Chapter 1: The Unity Project
Chapter Text
"I've had enough of this ridiculous game, Ronald!" Hermione's spat as she angrily tossed the broomstick onto the grassy field concealed behind The Burrow.
Ron descended swiftly, his hair blending with the sunset's fiery glow as he landed by her side.
"You didn't even put any effort into it!"
"I did, but I simply don't enjoy it! I've never played Quidditch in my life!" she roared back
"You're just upset because you're not good at it!" Ron smirked as he crossed his muscular arms.
"No, I'm frustrated because I don't enjoy flying, or kicking, hitting, or tossing a blasted ball around. I'm not Harry!"
"Alright, alright!" Ron conceded, raising his hands in surrender. "Let's head in for dinner. We can do something you enjoy afterward, like reading a book or whatever you're into," he added, breezily playfully shrugging past her.
"I have other interests!" Hermione squawked back in defense.
Having been at The Burrow since the Battle of Hogwarts, nearly three months had passed. Hermione had been consulting multiple healers on how to restore her parents' memories. Healer Stroop had warned her that the process would be long and delicate, with a success rate of less than twenty percent and the potential for severe damage to their cognitive abilities.
Devastated by the uncertainty, Hermione had been so focused on the war, Harry's safety, and defeating Voldemort, that she had never fully prepared herself for the possibility of never getting her parents back. The possibility of what her life would be after the war.
Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were going above and beyond to support her. She was living at The Burrow, with Ron, Harry, and Ginny, but Harry spent most of his days with Kreacher, working to clean up Grimmauld Place to make it more habitable. He anticipated completing the task by Christmas.
Hermione turned for one last view of the setting August sun, inhaling the summer air- the dance of orange, yellow, and red hues in the skyline.
This place had been her sanctuary, a place of healing. The thought of leaving now felt like reopening a wound that hadn't completely healed.
Kingsley, now the newly appointed Minister for Magic mandated that all former seventh years must return to Hogwarts for a final year, expressing doubts about the readiness of these students to assume roles within the wizarding community. The trauma endured and the questionable characters that had served as professors during their time made him wary.
The mandate spared no one, not even Harry.
"Hermione dear, your Hogwarts school list arrived today," Molly said kindly, handing her the parchment as they sat around the dinner table.
"What subjects are you taking again, Hermione?" Harry asked from across the table, having just Flooed in from London as dinner was being served.
"Ancient Runes, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, Potions, Herbology, Arithmancy, and Alchemy. I tried to squeeze in Transfiguration, but McGonagall wouldn't allow it," Hermione counted on her hand.
"Bloody hell Hermione, you do know we only need to take five courses, right?" Ron remarked, munching on a piece of pork loin.
"Ronald, language!" Molly interjected sharply as Arthur Weasley took his seat at the head of the table.
"Let Hermione take what she wants. She's still unsure about what she wants to do in the Ministry next year, although we'd always love to have an intern in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office," Arthur added with a wink.
Hermione blushed.
The last thing she wanted was to work in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office, but she wasn't about to tell Mr. Weasley that.
"We're just taking what we need to get into the Auror Training Program, and that's it, right, Harry?" Ron continued.
Harry nodded in agreement as he quickly swallowed a mouthful of potatoes.
"We'll all Apparate to Diagon Alley tomorrow and pick up what's needed. Does that sound alright?" Molly suggested.
Before she had sent her parents away and erased their memories, she managed to transfer everything they had saved for her university education to Gringotts. She had a solid nest egg, enough to sustain her for the remainder of the year, and perhaps even use the surplus for a less expensive college if she chose to go back to Muggle school. Despite the financial security, she was still uncertain. Every time she thought about returning to Hogwarts, contemplating her future, the next steps beyond her daily routine, a surge of anxiety engulfed her entire body.
After dinner, Hermione, Ginny, Ron, and Harry gathered in Ron's bedroom. Ginny played music by the Weird Sisters, while Harry and Ron played a spirited game of wizard's chess. Hermione settled on Ron's bed with a book titled "Healing after Trauma." It was fucking rubbish, but her designated healer had assigned it, and she remained dutiful to her responsibilities as ever. In these moments, surrounded by the people she loved most, Hermione cherished the calm and relaxation, free from the pressures of expectations. However, she knew it would all come to an end soon. Only three days remained before they boarded the Hogwarts Express once again.
As tiredness glazed over her eyes, she struggled to keep them open. She had unintentionally dozed off in Ron's bed a few times, and Molly had caught them once, leading to a conversation she never wanted to endure again.
Ron and Hermione had embarked on their relationship after the Battle of Hogwarts. Refusing to die a virgin and fueled by the intensity of their kiss in the Room of Requirement, they had explored their newfound feelings in Ron's Gryffindor Tower bed after the final battle. Over the past few months, it seemed like their secret shagging had taken them into cupboards, garages, and even the field where they played Quidditch.
Harry and Ginny were well aware of Ron and Hermione's relationship. Despite being eighteen, almost nineteen, their opportunities for privacy were limited. Harry and Ginny, often sought moments alone at Grimmauld Place.
For Hermione, the reality of sex didn't quite meet her initial expectations. It could be awkward and clumsy at times. Climbing to the heights of passion often required the use of a hand or a strategic position on Ron's body. They were each other's firsts, and although they had been together sexually for three months, they had only managed to use a bed for their intimate encounters twice.
"Mione’, goodnight?" Ron said gently, waking her up.
Shite. She had indeed fallen asleep on his bed. She looked around, and a small candle still illuminated the bedside, but Ginny and Harry were nowhere to be seen.
"Oh Ron, I'm sorry," she said, rubbing her eyes as she began to sit up.
"You could stay," he suggested, his blue eyes swirling in the candlelight.
"Ron, remember last time I did," she reminded him.
He let out a long sigh. "You're right. I'd like to burn that from my memory, although I did hear a rumor that we might be getting our own dorm rooms this year. If we do, you could spend every night, and we could be alone," Ron said seductively, leaning down to kiss her lips.
"Yes, and we can use that time to study," she joked, pulling away and lightly tapping his arm with the book.
"I could watch you study all day and night if it meant you laying on my bed," he teased.
"Goodnight, Ronald," she laughed as she walked out of his door, heading toward Ginny's bedroom a floor below.
He didn't want to fucking be here at all; he despised sitting on this dreadful train. Theo, Blaise, Pansy, and Daphne, seemed to share his sentiments, judging by their expressions.
Goyle was in Azkaban due to his actions in the Room of Requirement last year. At times, Draco wished he were in Azkaban himself, but the fucking Boy Who Wouldn’t Die and the mud-no-Granger had testified on his behalf regarding his silence at the Manor.
Was it truly silence, or was it fear that kept him quiet last year? He often pushed that thought away.
Crabbe was dead and Davis and Bulstrode's family had disappeared after the war. So, this was what was left of them, and they were barrelling full steam ahead to the castle that fucking despised them all. Sometimes, he wondered if this was some cruel joke orchestrated by the world—an alternate form of torture that Potter, the Weasel, and the damned Golden Girl wished to inflict on him, slowly wearing him down mentally.
“Is this some sort of joke,?” Pansy’s shrill voice interrupted Draco’s thoughts
“What is it,” Blaise ripped the parchment out of Pansy’s hand.
“Dear Ms. Parkinson,
I hope this message finds you well. We would like to inform you that all returning 7th and 8th-year Hogwarts students are required to participate in the Unity Scavenger Hunt. Details of this Event will be reviewed this upcoming Friday, September 4th, 1998, at 8:00 PM.
On that day, please join Headmistress McGonagall, Minister for Magic Shacklebolt, Head of the Board Cassiopeia Forescue, and Unity Project Assistant Director Percy Weasley in the Great Hall. During this gathering, you will receive partner assignments, an overview of the event, and witness the unveiling of the grand prize.
It is essential to note that no exemptions will be granted; all returning students are expected to take part in the Unity Project.
Best regards,
Headmistress McGonagall - Order of Merlin First Class - Director, Unity Project”
"Being stuck in Azkaban would feel less like a prison," Draco sneered, reading the letter that materialized in front of him.
"A Scavenger Hunt? Do they think we're first years? The Unity Project? It's all a load of rubbish. Not a single person on this train wants us to be here, and now they're going to force us on them? Bloody brilliant idea," Blaise remarked, rolling his eyes.
"I'm rather excited; I hope I get Potter," Theo exclaimed, running his hand back in his shaggy brown hair.
"Excuse me?" Pansy gasped.
"I hope I get Potter; he's bound to win, right? He's won everything else," Theo quipped.
"You're a moron, Nott," Draco drawled.
"Potter isn't going to be paired up with a Death Eater," Pansy added.
"He might be, for the cause… think of the press, Pans– Harry Potter doing charity work, helping reform and unite wizarding kind," Nott said in a sing-song voice.
Zabini, and Greengrass both laughed, while Pansy continued to stare out the window.
"Whatever they do, we need to stick together this year… the whole school hates us, well, mainly me, Nott, and Malfoy, but still, we should all watch each other's backs. I'm on thin ice as it is. If some little rodent tried to jinx me behind my back and I tried to retaliate, I could get a one-way ticket to Azkaban," Pansy said, breaking her leer.
"Parkinson is right," Draco said, looking back out the window. Rain poured down over the Scottish highlands as the train twisted and turned, the sky growing darker.
They were almost there.
Hermione and Ernie were tasked with bringing the 8th years to their dormitory. All 7th years were instructed to return to their respective houses, spending their last year in familiar dorms. Unfortunately for Harry, that meant Ginny was now in Gryffindor Tower.
Hermione's mind was a whirlwind of anxiety. As soon as she stepped onto the train, a feeling of unease settled in. Upon reaching the castle, the anxiety intensified. She longed to be back at the Burrow, lying in the grass, stealing kisses in the cupboard with Ron. The Burrow was a safe haven, unlike Hogwarts, which was tainted with lingering memories. Even though McGonagall and her team of repair wizards had painstakingly restored the castle, the bloodstains seemed to be ingrained in the stone. Hermione couldn't see them, but she knew they were there.
During the Sorting, they all sat at their old House tables, and McGonagall delivered her first speech as Headmistress, emphasizing the importance of unity, that unity could have prevented the death and destruction they faced last year under Voldemort.
"Right... as if it were as simple as that," Hermione scoffed to herself.
Confusion had filled the Hogwarts Express when they received the letter about the Unity Project. Hermione was annoyed that Percy had kept it a secret all summer. It was challenging enough to be forced to return to the castle, and now they were forced to play a muggle game for a prize. In the name of Unity?
Hermione led the group of roughly thirty remaining 8th years down the corridor McGonagall had directed them to follow, noticing that the Slytherins trailed far behind the others.
When she first spotted Zabini, Nott, and Parkinson entering the Great Hall, it momentarily slipped her mind that they were forced to return too.
However, when she saw Malfoy following, his towering figure, white-blond hair, and clenched jawline drawing attention as eyes followed him to the Slytherin table—Hermione felt a slightly selfish sense of satisfaction. If she had to endure this castle, they should too.
"The password is Unitatem, and you'll have to tap your wand on this brick here," Ernie MacMillan explained.
"Clever, did you come up with that one yourself, MacMillan?" a sardonic voice sneered from behind them. Hermione turned to see Theodore Nott, standing at an imposing six-two, smirking beside Malfoy, who also wore a smug grin. She had rarely heard Nott speak, except in classes, and was immediately annoyed.
"No, Nott, but you don't have to use it, you could sleep out here in the corridor if you wish," Hermione retorted as Ernie stumbled over his words, his face turning red.
"No need, Granger. I'm all for Unity," Nott replied quickly, winking at her. Malfoy, still standing beside him, leaned casually against the wall still grinning- looking like a prat. They both did, and Hermione found it irritating.
"Alright, once inside, you'll all see a door with your name on it, and that will be yours for the rest of the year," Hermione's voice took on a slight edge as the entryway opened.
The room revealed itself to be a large circular chamber, they were inside one of the turrets. A grand common room sat before them, deep black and brown couches, complete with crushed velvet wingback chairs. Trestlework tables were scattered around the room, complemented by fluffy rugs and a bookshelf lining the window nook that offered a view of the Quidditch Pitch.
The tower included lavatories for both girls and boys on the main floor, seven bedrooms attached to the Common Room, and two spiral staircases that led to open-concept railings and hallways stretching up five stories. Each level featured seven doors, one for each room.
"Alright – Main Floor - Ron, Seamus, Parkinson, Neville, Justin, Lisa Turpin, and Malfoy. 2nd floor – Myself, Harry, Parvati, Zabini, Nott, Susan Bones, and Mandy Brocklehurst," Hermione continued, assigning each student to their respective dorm room. As they dispersed towards their new living quarters, Hermione walked up the spiral steps to reach her own. And of course, her door was situated next to Parvati's and Theodore Nott's.
"Lucky me," Hermione thought, side-eyeing Nott as he walked into his dormitory beside her, still with that grin.
The Common Room in the 8th-year dormitory was surprisingly docile on their first night. Hermione had observed Padma and Parvati chatting on the couches as she walked back down the spiral steps toward Ron's room. Daphne Greengrass sat alone in the window nook, staring blankly out of the window.
Ron's room was situated directly beside Neville and Justin's, and at the end of the wall, Malfoy's room, with Seamus to his left.
Hermione quietly opened the door, she found Ron unpacking his trunk and hanging Chudley Cannon posters. Harry sat on the chaise beside a small fireplace, engrossed in a Quidditch magazine, with a muggle song, "Save Tonight," playing gently on the radio.
"Hermione, I saw you're beside Nott... unfortunate. I got Zabini and Brocklehurst beside me," Harry said quickly, looking up.
"Did you hear him today, 'I'm all for Unity'? Yeah right, tell that to your Dark Mark," Ron spat as he folded a sweater into his drawers.
"We should try to include them. McGonagall will be looking to us to set the example," Hermione suggested.
"Mione, we're here to finish this year and move on, not to make new friends with Slytherins," Ron replied.
"It's a part of it, isn't it? The Unity Project. I doubt McGonagall is going to partner any of us with each other."
"Oi, remind me to tell off Percy for not giving us a heads up on that. What even is a Scavenger Hunt?" Ron roared.
"You get clues and hints to find something. Each new clue leads you to another. The first person to get all the clues and hints and find the correct object wins. Pretty simple," Harry explained nonchalantly.
"Annoying. This wasn't part of the plan. I was going to coast through this year until Auror Training," Ron grumbled.
"Shame about Ginny," Hermione said quickly, trying to change the subject as she crawled back into Ron's bed.
"We have a plan. As long as I get her in before curfew and out before classes, we should be fine... and, well, as long as nobody rats us out. The last thing I need is that information making it to the Prophet – 'Harry Potter Philanderer'" Harry said jokingly as he flicked through the magazine.
Hermione snorted, and Ron's face turned red.
"Do not talk about philandering with my sister!" Ron rounded back on Harry.
Hermione laughed; it felt okay, it felt normal. Ron's room exuded comfort. The presence of Harry and Ron made it feel like, for a moment, she was back at the Burrow. The crackling fire, the scent of spices and the outdoors, Ron's familiar smell – it all wrapped around her. She took a deep breath, savouring the moment. She knew she wouldn’t get too many of these moments, she needed to remember them.
The early morning light was barely visible in the greyness of dawn, and it had to be around 5 AM as Hermione checked the small clock on Ron's bedside table, his arm still slumped over her. She had spent the night in his room, and they finally had a moment of privacy. The sex had still been a little clumsy, but Hermione was able to orgasm, and so was Ron, and that was the point. He seemed to genuinely enjoy himself, and Hermione was pleased to make him feel that way. It made her feel sexy, a feeling she rarely experienced.
She slipped out from underneath his arm, careful not to wake him. Wearing a small black silky nightie, she felt a shiver from the cold as she left the warmth of Ron's arms. The fire had burnt out during the night, and she slipped on her slippers. There would be no need to cover much of herself; she was sure nobody would be awake at this hour, and she could just slip upstairs to her room.
Carefully opening the door to avoid making a creak- her eyes hit his.
Draco Malfoy sat unmoving on the black leather couch feet from the entrance to Ron's room, reading a small black book with gold engraving she couldn't read. He was dressed in all-black robes, his hair pristine, his skin like glass, and his eyes a storm.
"Granger," Draco purred, not looking up from his book. "Didn't know your room was down here." He said putting down his book and eyeing the sign that said ‘Ron Weasley’ above the door she had just come out of.
"It's upstairs," she replied, feeling stupid for saying it.
She knew he knew; he just wanted to embarrass her for coming out of Ron's room so early in the morning.
Yet, she kept staring back at him. She should have walked away, but she noticed his eyes trailing up her body. She was instantly reminded she had barely anything on and her arm—her Mudblood scar wasn't covered. Her hand instinctively went to cover it. Draco took a hard gulp, his eyes still fixed on her.
"Cold?" he asked darkly, and she looked down, feeling her face flush with embarrassment as she covered her hard nipples that poked through her silk. Hermione scoffed and she marched toward the spiral staircase away from Malfoy, cupping her breasts.
A flame shot out of his wand into the hearth, instantly warming her path.
"Bloody prat," she whispered to herself as she stormed up the steps to her bedroom. 'It's only Day 1,' she thought, marking September 1st on her calendar as the door closed behind her.
Chapter 2: The Welcome Back Party
Chapter Text
Draco couldn't comprehend why he felt the way he did when he saw Granger. It was a weird sensation, unexpected for him to witness her sneaking out of the Weasels' room at five in the morning, dressed in barely anything. The black silk clung to her curves, accentuating the way her breasts sat, and her nipples. They pierced through the silk—he wondered what they looked like bare.
Fucking hell. It had been a while. He shook his head at the lingering thought.
Feeling slightly aroused by Golden Girl was a horrifying notion, not because of the years of blood purity ingrained in him—he had shaken most of that off during the summer in Muggle London. Bringing back various girls to his flat, most of them Muggle, it became a routine. He was still a pariah in the Wizarding World, and apart from Greengrass drunkenly once this summer, he had started sleeping with Muggles to avoid the looks of disdain from witches at The Leaky.
After the first girl, he expected a void, a sense of shame or dirtiness. Yet, he felt normal, just as he did before, just slightly less horny.
It was exhilarating as if he was rebelling against his father and the Dark Lord. He had secretly hoped The Dark Lord had watched him from some deep hell, seething that the Malfoy heir was tumbling in sheets with muggles.
During his fifth year, he began to view Muggle-borns differently. He had indeed for years thought himself better, purer, more deserving—it was what his father had always said but Dean Thomas was a better Quidditch player than most Purebloods, and Justin Finch-Fletchley had nearly beaten every Slytherin in the year in grades, except for him. But there was always Granger – swotty, know-it-all, good girl Granger—who bested Draco in everything. He hated her on the principle of being a Gryffindor and a swot. Maybe he used to say it was because she was a mudblood out loud, but it was because she infuriated him on a level he could barely understand himself.
But, fuck, she looked delicious this morning.
He thought it was a massive shame she was coming out of Weasley's room, her hair a mess, her eyes caramel swirls, the way her cheeks flushed when he pointed out her nipples. The way she held her scar... he almost forgot about it until her hand grasped it. He barely noticed until then; he was too absorbed in her body.
I need a wank.' He huffed internally. There was absolutely no reason to think of Granger in that way other than she had caught him off guard. Jerking off in the shower should rid him of that vision of her in the black silk nightie.
He set his book down and stalked to the boys' lavatories. He couldn't sleep last night. The castle felt as if it were a cave about to collapse in on him. His room wasn't awful, had everything he needed, and was surprisingly comfortable. But every time he closed his eyes, he saw visions of Death Eaters running a rampage in the school, of Crabbe burning alive in the Room of Requirement, and the look on his mother's face as he stood in the courtyard while Voldemort hissed his orders. He guessed it was better than the nightmares he had at the Manor this summer, Hermione’s screams echoed in those halls.
He had been glad Harry won in the end. Although he’d never admit that to his face, but he fucking hated Voldemort; he fucking hated himself for thinking Voldemort was anything other than an evil monster, the things Draco did on his Orders still made his stomach wretch. He hated his father even more for dragging him and his family name down with them.
The Malfoys would be a Death Eaters forever, marked. Nobody would ever forget what they did.
“That was an awful long shower Draco,” Pansy huffed as she sat on the small chaise lounge in his dorm room.
She was right, he couldn’t shake the vision of Hermione under the rainfall of the shower and begrudgingly came to the vision of her bouncing on top of him—after twenty minutes of trying to imagine literally anything else.
Fuck he was an amateur.
"Bloody hell, how did you even get in here?" Draco was still in his towel, wrapped around his waist with beads of water still clinging to his torso.
"I know your tricks, my love. Breakfast? Theo, Blaise, and Daphne are already down there, but I figured it'd be best if we walked together," she sat up, her eyes heavy with bags under them.
"I don't need to be babysat, Parkinson,"
"I never said you did. I figured you'd want my company. We both have Arithmancy first period anyway."
"Are you going to sit here and watch me change, or maybe give me the decency to get changed in private?" Draco snapped.
"Nothing I haven't seen before. But if you'd like to play modest, I'll wait for you in the Common Room." Pansy seemed unfazed and haughtily walked by him.
Pansy and Draco walked down to the Great Hall for breakfast, arriving early at about quarter past six in the morning, seemingly having planned it to avoid the watchful eyes of other students. Draco assumed they all had as rough a night's sleep as he did. As they entered, he noticed a few other students at their house tables – three Ravenclaws, two younger Slytherins, and one lonely lion.
Granger.
She sat in her school robes, hair tied back, sipping a steaming cup of something, and engrossed in a book. Draco glanced at her briefly as they walked by, but her eyes never drifted to his. He looked at her robes. They covered a lot, no wonder he had been taken aback this morning. She always covered herself in frumpy, ill-fitted robes. It wasn't his fault he thought about her body like that during his shower, he’d never noticed there was a womanly figure hiding under all that fabric.
Yes, that's all it was.
"How was your sleep?" Theo asked lazily with a yawn as Draco sat down beside them.
"As awful as all of yours, it seems?" Draco said, looking around the table at long faces and purple bags hanging under their eyes.
"We've been here for a day, and I already hate it. I don't want to do this for another ten months," Daphne said in an exhausted huff as she picked her fork through her bacon.
"Not like it will end here. I doubt any of us will be able to easily nab jobs either, not with the Ministry the way it is right now. They'll never say it out loud, but we'll be on the bottom of a hire list," Zabini added.
"Welp, we got nine months to figure that out," Theo laughed.
Her first period was Arithmancy, a NEWT-level class she hadn't attended in almost two years. Professor Vector had always been a difficult professor, slightly unforgiving in her marks, but she looked as if she had softened slightly over the summer. Professor Vector had stayed and fought during the Battle of Hogwarts, witnessing students and staff die. It wasn't lost on Hermione that it would affect her just the same to stay teaching and try to move on; just as her students were trying to do. The class was small: Hermione, a seventh-year Hufflepuff, two seventh-year Ravenclaws, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Padma Patil, and Parkinson, Nott, and Malfoy. All three slumped into the back table, looking just as tired as Malfoy did this morning when she left Ron's room.
Her head turned for the smallest of moments, and both Nott and Malfoy smirked back at her as she made eye contact. She spun her head back around quickly, almost knocking her quill into Justin and Padma.
"Seamus and Dean are going to throw a party tonight in our new common room," Justin whispered to Hermione as she began taking her notes.
"It's a Wednesday," Hermione whispered back.
Justin shrugged slightly. "Most 8th years have light schedules due to taking only five courses. Seamus says it's a welcome-back party, and because of the Unity Project assembly on Friday, they want to do it tonight."
Of course, Hermione thought. Nobody really cared much about their classes; most were here because they had to be. Most of the war heroes would be able to get into their fields based on their actions during the Battle of Hogwarts, not their NEWT achievements, with the exceptions of Malfoy, Nott, and Parkinson. And they had been quiet all class, taking notes and barely speaking to each other. They'd have to get into any internship on their class merit; if that was even enough.
The remainder of the day was a blur, and Hermione was thankful for it. The more engrossed she was in school work, the less she thought about the ghosts haunting the castle, and the memories of the pain that was inflicted just three months ago. She avoided the hallway where Fred had died, and she noticed Ron did too. They had both unspokenly taken the long way to Charms. She knew internally why, but they continued chatting instead of tapping the surface of grief. Ron seemed like he was doing well, and so did Harry. They both only had a class or two a day, most of them double periods, so they spent their day in the Common Room, playing chess or discussing Quidditch.
Hermione didn't have the time. She was taking seven lessons, and almost all were double periods. Malfoy and Nott seemed to be in almost all her classes, at least every one she had on Wednesday – Charms, Arithmancy, and Alchemy. She couldn't escape them. In each class she attended, their towering figures would sulk in behind her. In Alchemy, the class only had four students, and to her horror, Professor Slughorn, who was teaching the class this year, made them all sit together. Padma Patil sat at the end, and Hermione sat sandwiched beside Theo and Draco. Luckily, even on day one, it was such an intricate subject that both Slytherin boys were kept so busy that they weren’t able to make a sarcastic comment on their seating assignments.
As class ended, Hermione grabbed her bag and shoved back her chair in a flash. She didn’t want to awkwardly walk steps in front of Malfoy or Nott on their way back to the Common Room.
She tapped the brick and uttered the password, the Common Room held an anticipatory buzz. Dean and Seamus were moving couches, Neville and Terry Boot were carrying in a keg of Butterbeer while Ernie MacMillian levitated a case of Gin, Whiskey, Firewhiskey, and Mead behind them. Pavarti, Padma, and Mandy Brocklehurst levitated decorations around the room, giggling each time a rocket popped out with glitter or streamers.
Hermione yawned exhaustively. She'd need a Pepper-Up Potion or a Muggle Red Bull, but she’d never find one here.
It seemed like everyone was getting into the party spirit. Harry and Ron were even discussing Butterbeer Pong, levitating plastic cups, filling them with Butterbeer, and tossing an inactive Snitch. Hermione watched as Justin set up a karaoke machine. She forgot that Justin was Muggle-born; the karaoke machine was something he must have brought from home, and charmed. She wished she was more excited. She wished she could get into this spirit like the rest of them, but all she felt was a wave of exhaustion. Hermione slipped back up to her dormitory, hoping she would be able to take a moment for her to clear her mind, but she was met by a roaring fire. The Weird Sisters blasted from her radio, and Ginny Weasley was rummaging through her trunk.
"Gin, what are you doing?!"
"None of these clothes will do!" the redhead spun back, looking at Hermione. Her face was flushed, she was in a short flowy baby blue summer dress with small yellow flowers on it. Her freckled face, blue eyes, and swooping red hair hung around her face.
"Gin, I'm tired," Hermione huffed, the energy was sucked more from her as she felt the pull of Ginny's enthusiasm.
"I brought this, you may not want to wear it, but you don't have a choice. You can't keep looking frumpy."
"It's not frumpy; it's comfy," Hermione said back shyly.
Ginny pushed a spaghetti-strapped white summer dress into Hermione's hand, then yelled, "Kreacher!"
The elf appeared in moments, bowing.
"Kreacher lives to serve his Master Harry Potter and his friend Ginevra Weasley," he said gruffly, the locket that Harry had given him last year still swinging around his ancient neck.
"Kreacher, go to a local Muggle market and nick a... Bull Red? How do you say it?"
"Red Bull," Hermione said, rolling her eyes.
"Knick a Red Bull, maybe three, and come back... and don't be seen, of course," Ginny said kindly as she bowed to face the elf.
"Kreacher will do as Ms. Ginevra says." And with a loud crack, he was gone.
"You shouldn't have done that, Gin..." Although Hermione was reluctantly thankful.
“Let me fix up your hair?” Ginny said kindly as she tucked a strand from behind her ear.
“Alright,” Hermione let out an exhaustive groan.
Ginny was quick to untangle and tame some of her curls. She let them flow down around her shoulders. The dress fit her nicely; her cleavage was a bit more than she wanted, but her skin was still kissed by the summer sun, and with a little blush and mascara, she could barely see how worn out she was. Kreacher was back in ten minutes with six cans of Red Bull, and she downed the first one in a matter of moments. The music from the downstairs party began to radiate into her room. Almost all the students were down there when Hermione and Ginny decided to move downstairs. Ron and Harry versus Neville and Seamus played Butterbeer Pong, and Justin was still fidgeting with the karaoke machine.
She looked around the room as Ginny passed her a glass of clear liquid; it was gin, maybe tonic?
Every 8th-year Ravenclaw, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and even a few 7th years were here. But not the snakes. Zabini, Nott, Parkinson, Greengrass, and Malfoy were nowhere to be seen.
She moved toward Harry and Ron, chugging her gin faster than she would have liked to as she moved through the room. She felt herself becoming slightly less anxious, less uptight with each drink, each gulp, and it kept her drinking more, kept her refilling her glass. She didn’t need to feel suffocated in a room full of people, as she drank the room felt bigger, and the memories of the castle slipped away.
“Hermione, you look smashing!” Seamus blurted.
“Oi, don’t be ogling my girlfriend,” Ron said incredulously as he sank the Snitch into one of Seamus' cups.
“You do look amazing,” Ron leaned over and kissed her lightly on the cheek as he kept his eyes on Neville’s throw.
“Thanks,” she said with a blush.
Some people were staring over at her, but with eyes she had not seen in years, most of the looks reminded her of her entrance at the Yule Ball, slightly stunned. Maybe she should dress a little less comfortably more often; she sipped again. Harry sunk the last of the cups in front of Neville and Seamus, and with a roar of victory, took shots of Firewhiskey.
“How was the rest of your day?” Ron said in a grimace from the fire whiskey as he moved beside Hermione, Harry mirroring his movements beside Ginny.
“Alchemy will be a lot of work; there are only four of us in the class.”
“Only four? Who else took it?” Harry questioned.
“Me, Padma, Nott, and Malfoy,” Hermione said, taking another sip.
“Nott and Malfoy?” Ron practically spat out his Firewhiskey.
Hermione just nodded.
“Where are the snakes anyway?” Ginny asked, looking around.
“Who cares,” Ron said, rolling his eyes.
“I saw them all go into Malfoy's room earlier,” Harry nodded toward the closed door at the back of the Common Room.
“Did anyone invite them?” Hermione asked him.
“Why would we?” Ron said again, annoyed.
“Unity,” Hermione spat back.
“I doubt even if we did, they wouldn’t have come,” Harry said back, casually sipping his drink.
A long, piercing sound echoed through the room, and Justin stood up with a microphone, the music quieted.
“Alright, I got the machine going, and Longbottom agreed to be up first.”
A cheer of approval came from the crowd, all calling loudly as Neville moved toward the microphone, a massive grin and bowing jokingly at his friends as he made his way up. The lyrics were magically projected in front of him as he picked up the microphone. Hermione drank deeper. She felt the liquor pulsing through her veins as the room focused on Neville. But her head was turned, staring at the closed oak door in the back of the room, the name ‘Draco Malfoy’ carved above.
“Life is a mysssstttteeryyy…” Neville began, drawling out a horrifying attempt at Madonna as the crowd began to yell in approval, Neville’s voice dropping an octave.
Hermione turned as Harry, Ginny, and Ron were entranced by the karaoke beginning, and something she couldn’t control was moving her toward the closed door. Her heartbeat increased, and her head was light; she sipped again.
She knocked.
Nothing.
She knocked again, this time louder and with more confidence.
“Granger?” Draco swung open his door.
He had silenced it as soon as the Common Room party began, and Theo, Blaise, Daphne, and Pansy all came into his room, shooting firewhiskey and playing exploding snap. It was better to be in a group than to sit alone while a party raged outside. He heard the quiet knocking and ignored the first attempt, but the second one was loud. When he swung open the door, he was attacked by an ear-piercing high-octave note that Longbottom seemed to be butchering, and he looked down to see Granger.
She smelled like lilacs and gin. And she looked, well, she looked... fit. Her breasts sat plumply as she took deep breaths, the hem of her dress was short and flowy, and he couldn't help but appreciate how fantastic a muggle summer dress looked on women but against her olivey soft skin…
Stop.
Fuck.
Stop, Draco.
He watched her peer around him into the room, and look back toward his friends. Pansy was laid out on the chaise, and Daphne sat cross-legged on the floor while Theo and Blaise sat by his desk. Draco felt their eyes staring back at her.
"Can I come in?" she asked, a slight slur, her cheeks flush. She was drunk, and Draco stepped aside for her to enter the room.
"Granger, I didn’t know you had tits," Pansy drawled, her eyes tracing the familiar path his did. She rolled her eyes but crossed her arms awkwardly, attempting to reveal less cleavage, though it seemed to have the opposite effect, as Draco noticed.
"Charming as always, Parkinson," Hermione snapped back, downing the rest of whatever was in the glass she was carrying.
"If you didn’t know, we are having a Common Room Party,"
"Ahh, is that what you’re doing out there? Thought it was a study session," Nott quipped sarcastically.
"I wanted to invite you all to join," Hermione pushed on, ignoring Theo’s comment.
Draco stared at her, slightly stunned, and it seemed his friends were equally taken aback. A heavy silence hung in the air.
"We have plenty of booze, karaoke, and snacks," Hermione continued awkwardly.
She was determined, Draco had to give her that. Deluded and drunk but determined. Always the teacher's pet.
"Thanks for the pity invite, Granger, but we'll pass. We'll be sure to let McGonagall know you did your due diligence on the Unity front," Pansy scoffed.
“It’s not a pity invite. If you’re worried about the reactions of the people out there, I wouldn’t worry about it. Everyone is too drunk to care who tried to kill who, or who tried to hand who over to Voldemort,” Hermione said deadpan.
Another silence. Fucking Christ, Granger had a sick sense of humor.
“Bloody hell, Granger, that was almost funny. I think I like you after all,” Theo laughed.
Hermione went to open her mouth again, and Draco saw a shadow appear in his open doorway—the ginger twat edging by his door, his face looking annoyed and his hand clenched on his glass.
"Mione, what are you doing?" Ron said gruffly.
Draco watched as she slowly backed out toward where Ron was standing, Draco could feel himself tense. He understood Potter, and in a way, was thankful to Potter, even though he still couldn’t stand the git. But he loathed Weasley—the Weasel got all this praise as some hero, yet rode the coattails of people smarter, stronger, and more powerful than him. That always annoyed Draco, annoyed him how smug Ron was about it all, as if he deserved everything he had.
“I invited them to join us,” Hermione said, moving to his side, “But it seems they don’t want to come,” Draco felt himself staring darkly directly at her as a roar of laughter came through the open door again. Ron casually slung his arm around her shoulders, his fingers dancing on her arms, and he leaned in, brushing his lips close to her ear. Draco didn’t understand why, but it pissed him off how comfortable she was with him, how annoying it was—how in love they were, destined for each other, and all that rubbish. He took a heavy gulp.
“I told you they wouldn’t,” Ron whispered loudly enough for Draco’s friends to hear.
“Actually, we’d love to,” Draco thought his ears had misheard, but Theo stood and moved toward the door, an effortless grin across his face. Pansy and Zabini stared daggers back at him, and even Draco gave him an icy glare. But Theo just pushed past them, and they all begrudgingly exited Draco’s room. Draco's eyes adjusted as he looked around the room. Longbottom was on a couch, snogging Hannah Abbott. Thomas, Finnegan, MacMillian, and Michael Corner were all playing some cup game rowdily in the corner. Pavarti and Padma grabbed the microphone from Justin and began to sing a song called "Cest la Vie."
“Nooo, Pavarti, anything but this song,” Dean shouted as he tossed a Snitch into a red cup.
“Sod off, Thomas, this is a masterpiece,” Pavarti shouted back as her sister kept singing.
He noticed Ginny Weasley and Potter glaring apprehensively as Nott came back with cups full of Firewhiskey. The party was in full swing, and Draco couldn't help but wonder if this wasn’t a horrible fucking idea.
“What’s that game?” Theo asked Granger and Weasley, who was still slung over her small shoulders. Draco watched as she took another long sip, her eyes glazed.
“Butterbeer Pong, Harry, and I are reigning champs,” Weasley retorted quickly, barely sparing Theo a glance.
“Wanna play me and Malfoy then?”
Draco could have fucking strangled Theo right on the spot. He didn’t want any more attention on him than there already had been, let alone playing against Potter and the Weasel.
“You and Malfoy against us?” Ron laughed in a shitty gloating tone.
“You sure you want to go down that road, Nott?” Harry said, entering the conversation with a drunken stagger in his step that rubbed Draco the wrong way.
“Can’t be that hard if you two play it,” Draco sneered back.
“I’m going to really enjoy this, Malfoy,” Ron spat as they made their way over to the floating cups.
Draco stared; he had no idea how to play. But as he watched Thomas and Finnegan finish up, it couldn’t have been that hard. You had to get the Snitch into the other team's cup, they drank, and whatever cups were gone first, that team lost.
Simple.
Weasley's smug grin and the way he sloppily kissed Hermione as he moved toward his side of the cups made Draco want to hex the life out of him. But a better thought formed.
“Let’s raise the stakes-Firewhiskey,” with the flick of his wand, all of the cups were replaced from butterbeer to whiskey.
“Fine” Ron scoffed.
Draco looked back at Zabini, Daphne, and Pansy sitting on a far couch adjacent to Draco’s dorm room, whispering to each other and drinking silently. Hermione and Ginny sat feet from the game about to take place, Ginny’s face smiling and freckling, Granger's gaze glossy, and her lip dragged back and forth over the rim of her glass. Draco watched her lip for a few moments too long before she caught his sight. Snapping back to the drunken smug faces in front of him, Potter had a shitty grin, and Weasley just looked like a cunt. He couldn’t wait to embarrass them both in front of their girlfriends, and a sinister feeling overtook him. He might not have been able to do anything to spite the Golden Boys actively, but he would win this game.
Ron threw the snitch first, and it bounced by, and Theo snatched it quickly. Ron rolled his eyes and moved back. Theo took the Snitch and tossed it gently, sinking it directly into a cup in front of Potter.
“Drink up, Potter,” Nott joked, and Harry grimaced down the shot and then he sunk one into Draco’s cups. He wasn’t worried about feeling too drunk. He had drunk his weight in every liquid imaginable this summer, and his tolerance was high, higher than these two morons for sure.
Draco’s turn; he sunk one directly in front of Weasley. Two to One. It went back and forth for ten minutes as muggle music blasted from every corner of the room, Fatboy Slim, Draco knew the artist well, he had spent every Thursday through Sunday night this summer in muggle London clubs, and after being called a posh tosser a few times, he learned quick. Classmates were getting sloppier, Ernie MacMillan had carried a giggling Mandy Brocklehurst back to his room, Neville and Hannah had disappeared completely and Justin was passed out on the karaoke machine. Draco still had one cup left to sink, and it sat directly in front of Weasley. Theo and Draco still had four; they were kicking the Gryffindorks' asses, and Draco bathed in it. The last look he gave Weasley as he tossed the Snitch into the cup was one of sincere satisfaction as Harry groaned, and Ron’s face turned green. He stumbled and took the glass, downing it despite the color of his skin.
“Mione’, I’m going to wretch!” Ron ran toward the boys' lavatories just as the last sips of whiskey hit his mouth.
Fuck yes.
Draco watched as Harry and Ginny turned worried as they watched Ron run off. He caught Hermione’s eyes, filled with the emptiness of her alcohol-infused state. She was wobbly to her feet but stood and stared back at him. He gave her the ultimate Malfoy sneer while taking another shot of Firewhiskey effortlessly, Theo patting him on the back, never breaking eye contact with her.
He didn’t know why, but he loved that he had just one-upped her boyfriend.
Her boyfriend.
The Weasel.
Why did it matter if it was her boyfriend or not? He was the Weasel; it had nothing to do with proving something to Granger and everything to proving something to himself.
“It’s worse coming back up,” he quipped as Hermione broke eye contact and rushed into the bathroom after Ron.
Her boyfriend.
Hermione woke up, her head throbbing. Ron was curled up beside her with a small rubbish bin beside his bed, and the room smelled of vomit.
“Scourgify,” she whispered as she grabbed her wand and rubbed her eyes. She was wearing one of Ron’s Quidditch jerseys that fit her like a dress, and she could tell her hair was a rat's nest. It was 6:30 AM if the clock on the bedside table was correct, and she had classes soon.
Fucking hell, why did she drink so much?
She knew why Ron drank so much; he was fueled by his loathing of Malfoy and stupidly agreed to down Firewhiskey even though he couldn’t handle it. She crept out of bed, searching for Ginny’s dress, but even an Accio couldn’t find it. She let out a long huff and opened the door again, trying not to make a sound.
“Granger,” the familiar drawl.
What did she do to keep deserving this?
She slowly turned around, Draco sat on the couch, the Common Room looked destroyed around him, as he read the same book he had yesterday.
“Do you not sleep?” She said annoyed, realizing she was standing in only a Quidditch jersey.
There was a pause as he eyed her. “The black nightie suits you better,” he said darkly, eyeing her exposed legs and the jersey that had the name Weasley in block letter embroidered on the front.
“Wasn’t asking for your opinion on my nightwear,” she began to storm back upstairs toward her room.
“Granger,” he called to her again, and she spun on her heels, waiting for the next insult.
“Here—we have Runes in an hour,” Draco stood and tossed her a small bottle that looked like a hangover potion, then walked back wordlessly toward his dorm.
Chapter 3: Chalice of Change
Chapter Text
Whatever Malfoy had included in that hangover potion worked within a matter of minutes. She instantly felt better as she strolled to the Great Hall, being one of the few 8th years who had made it to breakfast and for the first lesson of the day. Of course, Malfoy, Nott, and Zabini were all in Ancient Runes, but in the absence of Parvati and Dean, Hermione sat beside two seventh-year Hufflepuffs. The only class seemingly void of any Slytherins was Defense Against the Dark Arts, which Ron and Harry had attended but barely. Ron still looked green and kept gagging every time Professor Jones showed a slideshow of some grisly hex.
Hermione walked with Harry and Ron back to the Common Room. Ron was still nauseous, he had barely eaten at dinner, so she knew it was bad. They collapsed on the large black couch that Draco occupied every morning in front of the fireplace. Ron laid down and put his head in Hermione's lap, and she stroked her nails through his thick red hair while smirking up at Harry, who listened to Ron moan about wanting to die.
"Mione, you also drank a lot; how are you not feeling worse?" Harry questioned.
Shite, should she tell them about Malfoy and the hangover potion? There was no reason to lie, even though she wasn't sure why he gave it to her, or why he wasn’t sleeping, but she imagined she could guess why he wasn’t. The only reason she had been sleeping was exhaustion from shagging Ron or from getting into a drunken stupor. However, she couldn't engage in those activities every night; they weren't healthy coping mechanisms, or at least that's what her healer would say.
"Malfoy gave me a hangover potion," she admitted.
"WHAT? When?" Ron said, clutching his temples.
"This morning, before Ancient Runes."
"I hate that bastard! You shouldn't have taken it; it could have been poison," Ron hiccupped.
"Really Ronald? Poison?" she said mockingly as she looked down into his blue eyes.
"He poisoned me! Twice now," Ron said incredulously.
"You willingly drank last night, some masculine pissing contest," Hermione laughed.
“That Malfoy won,” Harry added, and Ron shot him daggers which Harry returned with a grimace.
"Why would he give you a hangover potion?" Harry asked, confused switching the subject.
"No idea. He just tossed it to me, maybe pity?" Hermione wasn't sure why Malfoy gave it to her; she was certain it wasn't out of the kindness of his black heart.
The Common Room door swung open, and a tower of blond sauntered by, with an equal stature of shaggy brown hair trailing behind. Draco's eyes glanced down at Hermione, with Ron's head in her lap, as she awkwardly moved her hand from his hair. Suddenly, she felt on display, making her squirm.
"Feeling alright, Weasley?" Draco sneered as he continued to walk to his room.
"Fuck off, Malfoy."
Draco just laughed and continued into his room, Theo still on his trail. She watched him, following the way his shoulder rolled as he walked, the way his arms twitched under his shirt, how his tie was loosely undone, and the way he ran his hand through his blond hair. "Cold?" his voice echoed in her brain as the memory of him eyeing her in her silk nightie came back to her. Then, "The black nightie suits you better." She felt a flush in her cheeks. The scent of leathery sandalwood lingered in the air.
Why the hell did he give her that potion?
"I'm going to bed," Hermione sat up, pushing Ron off her lap.
"Staying with me tonight?" Ron looked up at her, his eyes sparkling.
"I don't think so. Get some rest, and I'll see you both in the morning, Goodnight." She smiled back at both Harry and Ron
"Alright, Goodnight Mione’" Ron said, squeezing her hand as she walked upstairs to her bedroom.
“Goodnight,” Harry said back
Tomorrow was going to be hell. They were finally going to find out what the Unity Project Scavenger Hunt was all about, and Hermione couldn't help but have a sick feeling in her stomach about it. How much longer could she fake the smile? She just wanted to move on, finish her NEWTs, and move on. Yet, she was expected to be the Golden Girl, an idol for the younger generations, and it was exhausting having to live up to those expectations while she still struggled so much with her own unresolved traumas.
So far, she had done very well pretending not to be gutted by being in the castle again, but it was only day two, and she kept pushing down her emotions, burying them underneath studying, Ron, alcohol, and more studying. Hermione didn't know why she walked into Draco's room last night and invited them out; maybe it was selfish. If she couldn't hide, neither could they. Hermione tossed and turned in her bed all night. She would sit up, read, lay back down, and then the darkness would creep in—Bellatrix looming overhead with the knife, the flames in the Room of Requirement, Harry's body clutched by Hagrid.
She couldn't breathe, couldn't breathe.
She woke up panting, tears streaming down her face, the overwhelming urge to scream or break something gripping her.
"Fucking hell," she muttered to herself. The Burrow never felt like this. She would always wake up and Ron would be there, or Ginny or Harry, and she knew she was safe. But something about these brick walls made her feel suffocated. She crept down the spiral stairs, the embers of the fire illuminating the staircase. It was around 2:00 AM as she opened Ron's door; he was snoring softly, and she crawled in beside him. He stirred.
"Mione," he called groggily.
"Go back to sleep, I just had a bad dream," she whispered as she curled up next to him.
Ron felt safe; Ron was safe. Sometimes it was hard to take their relationship to the level it should be at. Sometimes she felt herself cringe or pull away from his touch. But she loved him; she did know that. She hoped that one day, maybe after she had healed fully, it would feel less forced and more natural. Or maybe this is just how adult relationships were, especially ones that started so young, that had been full of trauma, and had blossomed late.
She drifted to sleep, lost in her thoughts when the quiet vibration of her alarm woke her at 6:00 AM.
Drained, she crawled out from under Ron's arm, wearing her small blue lacy nightie. It had been warm in the castle, particularly hot in Ron's room lately due to the late September sun hitting his window. This time, she was smart enough to slip a cardigan over herself. Bracing herself for what she expected, she opened the door. And there he was, like the days prior, sitting on the couch reading his book.
"Morning, Granger," he drawled without looking at her.
"Why don't you sleep?" she pressed again, as she did yesterday this time with more force.
"Why did you invite me to your party?" he said back coolly.
"If I can't hide, neither can you," she answered honestly, she wasn’t in the mood to play coy.
Draco smirked, a genuine smirk, as his eyes met hers. She never noticed how icy gray they were; she felt like they stripped her bare.
"You didn't answer my question," she insisted.
"I figured you knew. It's the same reason why you can't sleep. It all plays in my head." Draco got up and walked toward her slowly, her breath caught.
"I'd like that one better without the cardigan." He said in a near whisper as he turned and walked toward his dorm.
"Again, I didn't ask for your opinion on my sleepwear," she scoffed back, but he ignored her.
"I'd like to start by welcoming you all here today. Regardless of the mandates, I appreciate your time. I understand how valuable it is," Kingsley's deep voice growled through the Great Hall.
All students from the 7th and 8th years were settled at their house tables, patiently awaiting whatever this farce was. Hermione looked around; the tension in the air was palpable, and she could feel it. They had all been through dictatorship and horror, and this setting felt reminiscent of that, regardless of its intentions.
“You've all received the letter from Headmistress McGonagall about the Unity Project, and I will gladly step aside and let her take it from here," Kingsley announced.
Kingsley moved aside, and a few lonely claps rang through the hall, quickly dying as McGonagall approached the podium. Percy looked awfully haughty beside her. Some things don't change, Hermione thought, glancing at Ron and giving him a grimace. He smiled and mouthed the words 'what a twat' back while eyeing his brother.
"Thank you, Minister. This past summer, myself, and the Board of Governors of Hogwarts worked tirelessly to rebuild this ancient castle, figuratively and metaphorically. Last year for many of you may have been the most challenging you'll ever have to face, and I truly hope that ends up being true. The past is behind us, but our scars are still there. There are sixty-six of you in this room today, yet there should be more. You've all come from different houses with different values. You've grown up together, but you've never fully understood each other. The Unity Project aims to rectify that. Purposefully or not, Hogwarts has divided its students' belief systems and morals for centuries. It goes so much beyond the personality traits of the sorting; we've undoubtedly caused stereotyping, and let roots settle for unnecessary hate. The Unity Project will begin with a Scavenger Hunt, and you, my students, are its trial subjects. If it ends up being successful, it will be something we will develop for generations to come. We debated on ridding Hogwarts of the sorting completely, but we pay respects to our founders, and that tradition will live on. However, if the Scavenger Hunt is a success, we will introduce it to students to promote inter-house camaraderie."
The Great Hall remained silent. Hermione saw people looking around at their friends anxiously. Her eyes met Theodore Nott’s; he was staring at her, and when she locked eyes with his, he didn't look away until McGonagall cleared her throat again.
Nott was odd, Hermione noted.
"With help from the Department of Mysteries, we’ve carefully selected students to be paired together. You'll be given clues to find the object you'll need to succeed in moving on to the next task. Partners will be given designated nights for their scavenger hunt and will be timed. The five teams with the best overall time at the end of hunt four will qualify for the final, in which all five teams will compete against each other in a final hunt. The winning team claims the prize, but before we reveal the Grand Prize, we'll reveal the partners, any questions before I begin?”
The room erupted in hushed whispers as students looked panicked at each other. Hermione felt slightly lighter. Okay, this wouldn’t be so bad—a few puzzles here and there. It would be like schoolwork, just with a forced partner.
She breathed deeper as a thick Scottish accent filled her ears. "Professor?" Ernie MacMillan's hand shot up.
"Yes, Mr. MacMillan,”
"With the coursework of NEWT level material, how much will this add onto our overstretched workloads?"
Whispers of agreement began to overtake the hall once more.
"Great question. While only three students have decided to take more than the allotted five NEWT courses, whereas in previous years it was seven, we believe this has allotted you all some extra time to dedicate one night every two months for The Scavenger Hunt. You are permitted to work with your partner at any time, but you are not permitted to discuss the tasks, hints, or clues with anyone but your partner." McGonagall’s voice was stern as she glared around the room, daring another question, yet none came.
“Alright, I’ll begin,” McGonagall cleared her throat once more. Percy handed McGonagall a large cauldron—silver with blue mist bubbling from its top, engravings of Ancient Runes Hermione couldn't make out from where she sat etched on its sides. The Headmistress placed her hand over the cauldron, and a parchment came out. She unraveled the first parchment.
"Daphne Greengrass and Neville Longbottom." Her voice rang out, as it had at hundreds of sorting ceremonies before.
Hermione looked over at Neville, who stood up awkwardly and began to walk to the front toward the cauldron. Daphne rose from the Slytherin table and sulked with her head down as well, her cheeks flushed. When they got to the front, McGonagall ushered them to sit on benches to the side.
"Dean Thomas and Justin Finch-Fletchley."
Following the same rhythm, they walked to the front. It went like this for another ten pairs before McGonagall said,
"Blaise Zabini and Ginevra Weasley."
Another round of hushed whispers and Ginny shot a despairing look over at Harry, her face going red. Hermione watched as Zabini moved quickly to the front, his face stony and unmoving as he looked forward. Ginny reluctantly followed suit.
Fuck, fucking hell.
Hermione's heart started pounding; she felt hot tears behind her ears. Why was she reacting like this? It’s just a scavenger hunt, it’s just a game. It wouldn’t be a big deal. She kept repeating to calm herself down as more names were drawn.
"Terry Boot and Susan Bones."
Breathe, deep breaths in deep breaths out.
Hermione felt Ron’s eyes on her as panic kept creeping up her neck; he reached for her hand and gave a light, reassuring squeeze.
"Pansy Parkinson and Ronald Weasley."
“You’ve got to be fucking joking,” Ron whispered to Harry and Hermione, rolling his eyes as Hermione watched Pansy angrily whisper something to Draco who sat beside her, and he smirked. With a loud screech of a chair, she walked head high to the front, Ron slumping behind; they sat beside one another, not acknowledging each other's existence.
“Padma Patil and Abbigail Fawley.” Hermione watched as Padma smiled at the younger Hufflepuff girl as they made their way to the front.
“Theodore Nott and Harry Potter.”
“Fuck yes, I wanted Potter!” Theo's voice rang out loudly in the Hall.
“Language, Mr. Nott, but we appreciate the enthusiasm,” McGonagall roared.
Harry blushed wildly from embarrassment as he smiled politely and walked up to meet his partner. The students still sitting at the house tables started dwindling as Hermione counted six pairs left. Her heart was beating in her chest so loudly she could barely hear McGonagall over the ringing in her ears.
“Parvati Patil and Seamus Finnegan.” Both Parvati and Seamus smiled at each other widely and walked up, leaving just three more students. Hermione scanned the room: Ernie MacMillan, Luna Lovegood, and Draco Malfoy.
Please don't be Malfoy, please don't be Malfoy, she begged internally.
“Ernest MacMillan and Luna Lovegood,”
Fuck, fucking fuck. She looked directly into Ron’s eyes as they shot to Malfoy's. Hermione followed his line of sight and saw Malfoy staring directly back at her, unblinking, his eyes a storm.
“That leaves, Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy.”
Hermione felt like her heart had stopped. What was her luck this year? What was this torment that this castle continued to want to inflict on her? She slowed and began to walk up to meet McGonagall. She felt Draco's steps behind her, his presence looming, and she could smell his cologne—leather, sandalwood, and mint. She took her seat on the bench beside him, refusing to look at him as they sat stiffly beside one another. Draco moved his hand, it just barely grazed hers, and a shiver sent a shockwave up her spine at the feeling. He was surprisingly warm.
“Thank you all, and I’m pleased you’ve all found your partners. Now, for the prize. Mr. Weasley, if you will,”
Percy stepped out holding a large object covered in a heavy cloak. Kingsley moved forward, grabbed the cloak, and ripped it off, revealing a small emerald chalice that glowed, haunting to look at. Hermione felt another shiver as if the chalice was calling to her, her eyes locked on the hue. The crowd was instantly silent.
“The Chalice of Change,” Kingsley’s voice ripped through Hermione's thoughts.
“This Chalice is an ancient magical artifact dating back thousands of years, to ancient Egyptian Wizards. It was crafted in the depths of the world, and its power is overwhelming. The winning pair will win the Chalice, to do with as they wish. Although the Chalice will only grant one wish, you and your partner must decide amicably what that will be,”
McGonagall began pacing up the long bench, her long pointed nose and stern lips pursed.
“You could ask the Chalice for a chance to see loved ones in the light they were supposed to be before darkness took them,” The Headmistress said, stopping in front of Daphne Greengrass and Neville Longbottom.
McGonagall's heels clicked as she paced further down the bench. Hermione’s eyes were locked onto the Headmistress as she moved.
“You could ask the Chalice for a chance to make others forget your mistakes,” McGonagall said, stopping and looking down toward Pansy and Ron, who sat as far apart as humanly possible.
Click, click, click the Professors heels continued.
“You could ask the Chalice for a chance to shed the sins of those who came before you,” she pressed, stopping in front of Harry and Theo.
An eerie silence lingered in the hall, yet the emerald glow of the cup rang like a sweet melody in Hermione's ears.
Click, click, click.
“You could ask the Chalice to give you the strength you thought you had,” the older witch continued as she moved past Ginny and Zabini.
Click, click, click, the heels growing louder as McGonagall stopped right in front of Hermione and Draco.
“You could ask the Chalice to rewrite the memories in others' minds, erasing or replenishing,”
Draco cleared his throat.
“Each pair has the chance to win this Chalice. This is an exercise in understanding, in patience, and most of all, healing. Your first task is to figure out why you're partnered together. Each of you shares something in common. Once you've correctly answered what this is, you're to come to me, and I'll assign the date and time that you'll be allotted for the next task.” McGonagall finished as she scanned the room of awestruck students.
A long pause where nobody spoke, nobody moved; she couldn’t even hear blinks. All their eyes were fixed on the glow of the Chalice. Reality broke in again as Kingsley tossed the heavy cloak back over the cup.
“Good luck, you’re all dismissed,” Kingsley boomed
Draco shot up so fast, that Hermione barely had a moment to register until she heard his dragonskin boots slamming on the floor as he stormed out of the Great Hall. Parkinson and Zabini rushed up to him, but he didn’t turn to look at them.
Chapter 4: Ginevra
Notes:
You'll end up seeing about five different POV's from characters as the story goes on - the main story will be told from Hermione and Draco's POV but you'll also see glimpse of Ginny's, Rons, and Harry's
Chapter Text
Draco slammed his door shut, fury overtaking him. What sick and fucked-up game was the Ministry and McGonagall playing at?
Did they want the Golden Girl to babysit him, watch over him? It had to be the reason all the war heroes had been paired with Slytherins.
Draco sat and conjured five glasses of Firewhiskey as Pansy slumped into the chaise, Daphne leaned against his dresser, and Blaise and Theo took seats on the edge of his bed.
“It’s as if we are some community project. Did you notice each of us paired with a war hero? This is to give them all better press. How thankful we should be that we got paired with such outstanding citizens and role models. Fucking joke,” Pansy spat out bitterly.
“I knew I was getting Potter,” Theo smiled and sipped on his whiskey.
“What is your obsession with Potter?” Daphne asked.
“Not an obsession, I just like the odds,” Nott responded casually, swirling his glass.
“You think you’ll win? Daphne pushed again.
“What hasn’t Potter won? He’s triumphed in almost every Quidditch match he’s played, the Triwizard Tournament, the Felix Felicis, even though he was dreadful at potions, and how could we forget he won the battle against the Dark Lord.” Theo smiled and threw back another drink.
"He didn’t do all of that himself, you realize that, right?" Blaise retorted.
“Obviously, but I have this curiosity about why we were paired together…”
“So you think you know why you were paired?” Zabini hissed.
“I have an idea, but I’m not sharing it with you… It’s against the rules.” Theo sneered.
“When have you ever cared about the rules?”
“When it comes to winning,” Theo shot back.
“The only thing Weasley and I have in common is the fact that we’re both on the list of the Sacred 28, even though the Weasleys are barely still on it,” Pansy interjected.
“Did you see the look Ginevra gave Potter when they called our names? It was like she was being forced to partner with The Dark Lord himself, and I’m not even a Death Eater,” Blaise commented.
“Ex-Death Eaters, we’re not still Death Eaters,” Theo drawled.
“Longbottom isn’t too bad; he’s always been nice to me, even when I didn’t deserve it,” Daphne admitted, her cheeks going slightly pink.
“You’ve been awfully quiet, Malfoy. The Golden Girl herself, did you see the look on the Weasel's face? I almost choked on my laughter,” Blaise teased.
Draco was watching Hermione as the last few names were called. He saw the panic in her eyes as she realized it was him she'd be paired with. It was like a stab in the gut, and he didn’t understand why. Why should he care if the Golden Girl wanted to be his partner or not? He guessed he couldn’t blame her; he'd called her a Mudblood and made fun of her looks, her lineage. He watched as his aunt carved into her skin last year.
Fuck, nope, he couldn’t think of that.
Hermione’s words this morning came back to him: "If I can't hide, neither can you."
What was she hiding from? She was the Golden Girl Hermione Granger, the Brightest Witch of her Age, the Muggleborn spokeswoman for fuck's sake.
What could she be wanting to hide from?
“I already know what Granger and I have in common,” Draco admitted darkly.
“Excuse me?” Pansy spat.
“I said, I already know what Granger and I have in common,” Draco repeated in a tone that discouraged Pansy from asking any more questions.
“Your love of house elves?” Theo smiled, and Draco stared back with his best icy glare.
“I’m going to try and win,” Daphne said quickly to diffuse the tension.
“Best of luck to you, Greengrass. But Potter and I will sweep,” Theo added.
“And what do you both want with the Chalice that badly? I’d love to win, but with that moron Weasley, I’d have better odds with Longbottom,” Pansy sneered.
“I’d love to forget, forget what we did, for them all to forget”
"McGonagall has lost it; someone needs to check if all the lights are still on upstairs because this, THIS is cracked," Ron roared, motioning wildly.
Hermione, Ginny, and Harry were all huddled in Ron's room, having hurried back from the assembly without exchanging much conversation, in case of being overheard. The tension in the air was mounting as Ron slammed the door shut, and Harry quickly cast a silencing charm. Ginny conjured a small flame in the fireplace and began to nervously bite on her nails
Ron's pacing was intense, his ears turning a deep shade of red—a clear indicator of his rising anger. Harry sat uneasily, his expression unreadable.
“Parkinson?! What the bloody hell does McGonagall and the Department of Mysteries think I have in common with Parkinson?” Ron exploded.
“Parkinson? What about Zabini?” Ginny huffed back at her brother.
“Does anyone else think Nott is a little weird? For being an ex-Death Eater and all, he was way too happy about being paired with me,” Harry added.
“It’s an act, Harry!” Ron said so nonchalantly, so sure of himself that it annoyed Hermione.
“I have Malfoy,” Hermione finally added in a small voice, still slightly shocked.
“I won’t let that happen, ‘Mione. I’ll talk to McGonagall... it’s out of line that they even dare try to partner you two together with everything that happened last year,” Ron interjected, still raging.
“NO, Ron, you won’t!” she shot back.
“You want to be partners with him?” Ron gave her an incredulous look.
“Of course I don’t. I literally begged Merlin for anyone else. But there is no way McGonagall will partner me with someone else now, and for some reason, I feel like this is a test on my sanity or my nerves, and I’m going to win.”
Ever since she laid eyes on that Chalice, a burning desire to win had taken root in her mind like a relentless parasite. She was determined not to let an obstacle like Malfoy stand in her way.
“You’re actually going to try to win this thing?” Harry said, questioning.
“Yes, of course. I might be able to get my parent's memories back if I win.” Hermione felt hot tears in the back of her eyes again, she was fighting them not to fall.
“If you win, and if Malfoy agrees on that being what the Chalice will be used for, then sure. But that’s a lot of ifs, Hermione,” Ginny said kindly.
“We’ve faced higher odds, haven’t we?” Hermione looked around the room at her friends, noticing Ron’s face softened slightly.
“I’m barely going to try…. I don’t think I want anything that much to work with Parkinson,” Ron admitted.
“That’s stupid, Ron. Of course, there is,” Ginny spat back furiously.
“You can’t bring back the dead, Gin, not even with the Chalice,” Harry said darkly, understanding fully what Ginny meant with her words.
“That’s... well, that’s not what I meant,” Ginny said flustered, taking a seat on the edge of Ron’s bed. Her eyes betrayed her as she looked over to a moving photo of Ron, Fred, and George in Gryffindor Quidditch uniforms sitting on Ron’s bedside table.
“I didn’t understand what McGonagall meant when she said ‘shed the sins of those who came before you.’ It has something to do with why they paired Nott and me together, but I can’t even fathom what I’d ask the cup for in the end. I can’t bring back Sirius, Lupin, Tonks, or my parents... Voldemort is dead... I’ve done everything I’m supposed to do.” Harry said somberly.
“Could always ask for more Galleons,” Ron suggested as he shoved a chocolate frog in his mouth.
“Ronald...” Hermione scolded.
“What? I’d ask for Galleons,” Ron shrugged.
Hermione just rolled her eyes at Ron and looked back to Harry sympathetically as he stared into the fire.
The next few days passed with an anticipatory buzz in the castle. Hermione had slept in her own bed on that Friday night, the first time that week she was able to sleep without some sort of crutch. When Monday morning arrived, it seemed like the entire castle was talking about the Scavenger Hunt. Seamus and Parvati had already figured out why they were paired and had their date set for their first task. Ron still hadn’t spoken to Pansy, and Harry was dodging Nott at every corner. Ginny was set to seek out Zabini in the library that afternoon, and Hermione resolved to finally talk to Malfoy, yet she hadn’t seen him.
He wasn’t in the Common Room over the weekend or in his usual spot in the mornings.
Was he avoiding her? She had a feeling he was.
Luckily for Hermione, she knew Malfoy was in almost all her lessons; he'd have to turn up there. But when he didn’t make it to Arithmancy, she began to worry that he’d disappeared completely. There was no way he’d choose Azkaban over working with her. Sure, they hated each other, but the Malfoy she knew cared more about self-preservation than loyalty to a cause. She witnessed that last year after the Room of Requirement; even after Harry had saved him, he still stood on the edge of the battle.
Draco never made a move without calculation; she remembered his eyes when Bellatrix stood over her, and she recalled those eyes when he refused to name Harry. He calculated that risk.
He had also moved slightly toward Bellatrix when Hermione was first hit by the Cruciatus Curse in the Drawing Room of Malfoy Manor. She didn’t remember much else after the first curse but the vivid recollection of the claw-like handle striking Draco’s chest, as he hesitated and stepped back floated back into her mind. She was writhing in pain, but she remembered the colour of his eyes as he watched.
He calculated that risk, and he didn’t take it.
Nott strolled casually into the Alchemy classroom, tossing his bag down next to Hermione, who turned to face him. Malfoy was still conspicuously absent.
"Could you do me a favour and let Prince Potter know he can't keep avoiding me? I'm eager to kick off this Scavenger Hunt," Nott remarked.
"Funny, I was about to ask the same from you for Malfoy. Where is he?" Hermione asked looking around again,
"Hospital Wing," Theo stated, reclining in his chair as Professor Slughorn approached the front of the class, shuffling his papers.
Padma's attention was caught when Theo mentioned Malfoy being in the hospital.
"He's unwell?" Hermione asked quietly not for Padma to overhear.
"Sort of. Some fifth-year seeking revenge hit him with a hex on the way to breakfast this morning. Blood poured from his nose, and he ended up with a black eye. I have no idea what hex it was, maybe something the kid came up with," Theo explained casually.
"Why would some fifth-year target Malfoy, unless he was being an arse" Hermione inquired.
"You weren't here last year... The Carrows used me, Malfoy, and the other Slytherins as lapdogs in their torture, whether we wanted to or not. As you can tell, we aren't too popular," Theo said, rolling up his sleeves to reveal just a hint of the serpent's tail of his dark mark.
Hermione shifted uncomfortably in her seat as Professor Slughorn began the lesson.
"I'll talk to Harry," she whispered in one final remark.
"I knew I liked you, Granger," Theo replied with a quick wink, prompting her to roll her eyes.
“Where is he? Where is he?" Ginny scanned the library, rows of books lining each aisle as she peered down at the trestle work tables hidden within them. Annoyed that she had to search for him, she felt he should have been the one searching for her.
Part of Ginny didn't even want to participate in this stupid Scavenger Hunt. She just wanted to focus on growing her Quidditch skills; after this year, she aspired to go professional. It was the dream she clung to before the war, before the loss. Quidditch was the one thing that allowed her to escape, to lose herself in the game. Anytime she felt overwhelmed with emotion, flying, hitting the ball, scoring a goal - it pushed everything from her mind.
If she won that Chalice, she would ensure her family never felt pain again, that she would never feel that kind of pain again. The pain of loss, the pain of grief. That was the sole reason she found herself in the bloody library at this hour searching for fucking Blaise Zabini.
A long dark arm lifted in a stretch in one of the last aisles, and Ginny caught a glimpse of Slytherin green robes. As she rounded the corner, there he was, engrossed in pages of potions homework, completely oblivious to her presence until she slammed herself down in front of him.
She had to give it to him on his reflexes; he barely moved, showing no sign of flinching even though she knew she had caught him off-guard.
He simply looked up at her, face stony, his eyes dark black orbs.
"We need to chat,”
"Now?" he questioned.
"Do you have a better time in mind?" Ginny felt her annoyance growing at the absurdity of the situation.
"I guess not," Zabini replied in a huff, closing his Potions book and looking back up at her.
"You want to know why we're partnered," Blaise asserted.
"No, the Ministry and McGonagall want us to know why we're partnered and don't pretend you're not enticed by the prize. Everyone is," she retorted.
"I'll admit, I'd like to win, but the only thing I see we have in common is either once being members of the Slug Club or that we both played Chaser for our house team," Blaise stated matter of factly.
"That's what you think it is? Slug Club members or Quidditch players... it's not going to be that surface level, Zabini," she retorted.
She thought Slytherins were supposed to be cunning, but this was like talking to a brick wall, though she had met brick walls with more personality.
"Obviously, but I know nothing about you other than that," Zabini quipped back.
"What do you need to know to make a better guess than the fucking Slug Club?"
"You don't have to be a bitch, Ginevra."
"I'm not being a bitch; this is me being nice, and don’t call me Ginevra.”
"I like Ginevra," Blaise said coldly.
Ginny felt herself flustered at that. The way he spoke was direct, and she wasn't used to it.
“ It has to do with something that McGonagall said in front of us, 'to give you the strength you thought you had.' You don't have any ideas about that?" she rebounded quickly.
“I didn’t put much thought into what McGonagall said, I think it's a load of rubbish that it just happened that every Slytherin 8th year remaining in this bloody castle somehow got partnered with a war hero,”
"You don't think we haven't thought the same thing? Why on earth is McGonagall punishing us after everything we've been through?"
She struck a nerve; Ginny saw Blaise's eyes darken.
"Everything you've been through? From what I can remember, you went into hiding for months before the battle, and the worst form of punishment ever inflicted on you was a walk in the woods with the oaf Hagrid..." he said in a tone dripping with loathing.
"Oh, really, Zabini? I don’t remember seeing you during the Battle of Hogwarts... fighting on either side. So it seems to me you don't have any right to tell me what I have or haven't been through," Ginny fired back.
"I don't have a Dark Mark, and I didn't have any reason to fight for Potter when all my friends were fighting against him," Zabini said through clenched teeth.
Ginny's temper flared. What a coward, she thought, and he dared to question her strength?
"I think your Pureblood Slytherin status gave you front-row tickets to watch your friends go down and you got to stay neutral, stay silent."
"Stay silent? Who do you think helped Malfoy figure out the Hermonia Nectere Passus incantation? Just because I didn’t take the Dark Mark doesn’t mean I didn’t want to help my friends, Draco was a shell of himself, all of them were shells of themselves. You don't think every day I wished I did more, that they asked me to do more, asked me to fight for them. I carry that every day, knowing what they went through and how I didn’t do enough.”
"Yet you tell me I wasn't doing enough?" Ginny knew her face was as red as her hair, and she felt her magic building inside her; she was unraveling.
"Do you think you did enough? Why didn't you go with Potter, your brother, Granger?"
"They didn't ask me to, Harry— he wouldn't let me," Ginny responded, as she felt her voice catch.
"And didn't that piss you off? That they left you behind. They didn't think you were strong enough, that you were too young, too fragile to help," Blaise's words cut deep.
Ginny hadn't let herself drift into those thoughts since the battle. She was there for Harry, willing to do anything for him.
“Don’t act like you understand,” Ginny gulped down a hoarse breath, as her eyes met his again.
“I do understand, and I think that’s what we have in common, Ginevra,”
A small piece of parchment materialized in front of both of them just as Ginny was about to give a retort. Blaise snatched it out of the air and unraveled it quickly, hungrily. He read the scribbled ink out loud.
"Ms. Weasley and Mr. Zabini, please come to see Headmistress McGonagall for your first task clue and assigned task date."
He gave her a wide, unsettling smile—a contrast to the usual stoic demeanor she associated with him.
Fucking hell, Ginny thought. It was going to be a long year.
Chapter 5: A Common Enemy
Chapter Text
Harry found himself constantly avoiding Theo, and he couldn't be more grateful for that invisibility cloak – a trusty companion even now. Every corner he turned, Theo seemed to be lurking, ready to pounce.
Harry had carried the cloak since Dumbledore's instructions in the sixth year, and it had proven its worth a thousand times over
He wasn't entirely certain why he was avoiding Nott. He understood that eventually, they would have to work together. However, Nott's excessive eagerness raised a suspicious feeling in Harry, reminiscent of the fake Moody and the Triwizard Tournament. He didn’t like it.
Harry was hiding in his dorm room, anticipating Theo's inevitable attempt to approach him in the Common Room. While he waited, he thought about the irony – the same person who had walked into the forest to face Voldemort was now avoiding a simple conversation with Theodore Nott.
In the aftermath of the war, Harry had dutifully played his part. He agreed with Shacklebolt's implementations, respected Kingsley, and appreciated the role he had played. Yet, as he walked the corridors, he struggled to remember the rubble and bodies that had undoubtedly been there. He knew they had been lying there just months ago, but the memories escaped him, and he hated himself for it.
Since the announcement of the Unity Project, a thought had been brewing in Harry's mind. Though he hadn't shared it with Ron and Hermione, unsure of their reaction, he couldn't shake the notion. Having testified at numerous trials, he knew the ins and outs of Ministry Hearings for Death Eaters and survivors alike. Every student who endured the Carrows and Snape, every combatant in the final battle, even Harry, Ron, and Hermione – they all submitted memories to the Department of Mysteries. These memories were locked in a pensieve deep beneath the streets of London, under high-security protection from Aurors.
Did the Ministry use these memories for the pairings in the Unity Project? If they did, it felt like a massive violation of privacy. What common ground did Harry share with Nott, or Malfoy and Hermione, Ron and Pansy, Ginny and Zabini?
His contemplation was interrupted as Ginny burst through the door, the force of it causing it to smash behind her. She smelled of parchment and flowers, her face flushed, and her eyes seemed on the brink of tears.
“Gin, what’s wrong?”
"Nothing," she replied, bustling past him. She pushed her bag down on the floor and unraveled a pair of warm pajama bottoms. Ginny then rustled through Harry’s drawer to find a t-shirt, likely to throw on.
"Nothing?" Harry inquired.
"Ahhh, Zabini is such an ass. Why? Why couldn’t McGonagall and Kingsley just let us finish this year in peace? This feels like opening old wounds."
"Maybe we need to? We can’t pretend nothing happened," Harry spoke from his own feelings, the struggle with not remembering the faces of some who had died. He had made sure never to forget their names.
“Why do you always take Kingsley’s side?”
"I trust Kingsley. If we forget and move on, what’s stopping the next Dark Lord from rising up and starting a new rebellion?"
"Aurors? The Ministry? You? You want to be an Auror to stop dark wizards. This Unity project isn’t going to change people’s fundamental views."
"It could," Harry insisted.
"You know, old Harry wasn’t always this optimistic."
"Yes, I was," Harry laughed, casually throwing a pillow toward Ginny, who reluctantly smiled back.
"Umbridge? You weren’t that optimistic about the DA at the beginning; that was a lot of Hermione's work," Ginny joked.
"It was always a lot of Hermione's work," Harry laughed.
"We got our clue and assigned date," Ginny admitted.
Harry found it interesting. They had figured out what they had in common, and curiosity was overtaking him.
"That was fast," he said, carefully gauging her mood.
"Next Thursday, 8 PM, our clue will reveal itself to us. Zabini is keeping it until then," she rolled her eyes as she mentioned Zabini.
"What do you have in common?" Harry blurted out, curiosity getting the best of him. He never learned to think before he spoke.
"I... I don’t think I want to get into that tonight, Harry," Ginny said so quietly that it gave his heart a little pang.
"If he was a jerk to you, you know I can always go and talk to him, right?"
"You don’t think I can do that myself?" she rounded back at him, her eyes looking like two broken crystals.
"Of course, I do. It’s just if you’re upset, I want to help," Harry pressed.
He hated seeing Ginny sad. Sometimes over the summer, when it had just been the two of them, he caught her crying in the upstairs bedroom at Grimmauld Place. She never said why, though he knew and he always tried to comfort her, to make her feel better. But she would just stop crying and pretend nothing happened. He never understood; she didn’t have to put on a brave face for him.
Ginny always left before Harry, slipping away from his dormitory around 7 AM. So far, it seemed like nobody had caught on to the fact that she was spending most nights in his room—or perhaps they were choosing to ignore it. To avoid pushing the limits too much, she made sure to leave before the morning rush of students to the Great Hall, ensuring she reached Gryffindor Tower unnoticed.
This particular morning, Harry was enjoying a lie-in, his first class not until 11 AM. As he finally decided to get up, he glanced at the clock – 8:30 AM. Realizing he needed to head down to breakfast, he heard a heavy knock on the door.
"Ron, I’m coming!" he called out, assuming his friend was about to complain about being starved.
Another heavy knock echoed.
"Ron!" he repeated, preparing to open the door.
But when Harry swung the door open, he was met with a surprise. It wasn’t Ron standing there.
Theodore Nott stood towering over him, with a toothy grin, holding a steaming cup of tea and some sort of pastry.
"Good Morning, Potter!" he roared, pushing past Harry and stepping into the room, passing the cup of tea and pastry to him.
"What are you doing? I have class," Harry protested.
"No, you don’t. Granger told me it’s not until 11."
"Well, I was about to go get breakfast."
"I brought you breakfast."
"You brought me a... croissant?"
"Most people would say 'thank you,'" Nott quipped.
"I'm not most people," Harry retorted quickly.
"No, you aren't, the Chosen One," Nott said.
"That's not what I meant."
"It's not?"
"No," Harry said, still flustered from the entire interaction.
"You've been avoiding me."
“Why are you so excited to be partners with me? Is this some sort of joke to you?”
“Is that what this is? You think I’m trying to take the piss?”
“Yeah, I do. Nobody has been this enthusiastic about helping me since Moody, and he led me to Voldemort, so you can see why I’m apprehensive.”
“The Dark Lord is dead, Potter. You saw to that. You aren’t telling me you're scared of ghosts.”
“I’m not scared of ghosts, but it doesn’t mean I feel any better about the idea of an ex-Death Eater being pumped to be my partner, seeing as three months ago you would have tried to kill me.”
“Ah, I see…. So, you aren’t the slightest bit curious why Precious Potter, Savior of our World, was paired with a Death Eater,” Theo's mood had changed, almost like Harry had offended him. Harry didn’t know Theo at all, didn’t know he could be offended.
“The rest of them think this might be a big publicity stunt for the Minister, pairing Death Eaters and War Heroes, but you— you were there. You remember our memories being picked apart like rabbit food. They watched them, analyzed them.” Theo’s eyes shot back to Harry’s, and Harry watched Theo more intently. There was something behind those eyes he couldn’t figure out.
“So, what do we have in common, Potter? It’s something that the Unspeakables have seen that connects us.”
A memory flickered back into Harry’s mind. He had never thought about Theo, and tried searching his brain for any moments that he could recall. There were only two that actually stuck out.
“You were the only other person in our fifth-year Care of Magical Creatures class who could see Thestrals other than me, but you pretended not to,” Harry accused.
“I didn’t pretend not to; I just didn’t say anything,” Theo's eyes were piercing, like he was surprised Harry had called him out on it.
“Why?” Harry pressed for an answer.
Theo kept staring, and Harry watched him take a gulp.
“Don’t be shy now, Nott. You were the one who barged in here to talk; let’s talk,” Harry pressed, annoyed. He was never one to shy away once into it.
“Potter, I didn’t think we’d get to this this morning. I figured we’d want to break the ice.”
“Well, we’ve smashed through it. You know why I could see Thestrals. I watched Cedric die; he was killed just for being with me in the presence of Voldemort. No other reason than that. He called him 'the spare.' Did Daddy not tell you that bit of the story, or maybe he got there too late?” Harry knew it was vicious, but he went on the attack anyway.
“Potter... watch it,” Theo's voice was ice, and Harry knew he was pushing.
Yet, Theo had already ruined his day, so he was determined to ruin his.
“Then tell me why.”
“I watched my Mother die,” Theo's voice didn’t waver. It was cold, crisp, direct.
Harry just watched him, letting the words sink in.
Theo had watched his mother die. When? How? He never knew that about him. How would he? He didn’t know anything about Nott.
“When I was thirteen. I’m not getting into the why of it today. If you can respect that,” Theo’s voice broke slightly at the end, and Harry knew to stop. It was a plea, it was quiet, direct, but a plea nonetheless.
“I don’t remember my mother dying. I know I was there; I know I saw it, but I was so young that for a long time, all I remembered was the green light. It wasn’t until the first time I saw a Dementor that it came back to me, her screams. Ever since then, I could picture it in my mind, whether it was the real memory or the one that subconsciously manifested. But not a day passes where I don’t wish to erase that memory again.” Harry admitted and he didn’t know why.
He barely spoke to Ron or Hermione about it; he had only really confessed this to Sirius. But the pain he saw in Theo’s eyes could have been a reflection of his own.
A piece of parchment materialized, settling itself down in Harry’s lap. He grabbed it, looking back toward Theo.
"Mr. Potter and Mr. Nott, please come to see Headmistress McGonagall for your first task clue and assigned task date."
Harry read aloud, and Theo sniffed quickly, clearing his throat.
“See, Potter, that wasn’t so bad,” Nott said, his mask of carelessness put back on.
"Ron, are you planning on talking to Parkinson?" Hermione asked, shifting comfortably on his bed. Ron, still awake and stretching in preparation for his upcoming Quidditch practice, looked over.
McGonagall had granted each house team two eighth-year players, and Ron and Harry were back on the team as Keeper and Seeker, respectively. Ginny resumed her role as Captain, with Peakes and Coote returning as Beaters, and an additional Chaser, third-year Amelia Louis.
Hermione was lying in his bed, reading the assigned chapter from Professor Vector. His bed was always warmer than hers, and she couldn't explain it, the smell of his sheets, the smell of The Burrow, the smell of Ron, comforted her.
"No," Ron admitted with a loud grunt as he stretched his legs.
"Why not?"
"Why can't she come find me?"
"Parkinson, come find you? I doubt it," Hermione replied.
"She should. I owe her nothing."
"Ronald, it's not about owing her anything, don't you want to make an effort to win?"
“Not really ‘Mione, even if we get there, we’d have to amicably agree on what it is we ask for, never in any lifetime do I think Pansy Parkinson and I will amicably agree on anything, so I don’t want to waste too much of my time,”
He had a point; Hermione couldn't imagine any scenario where Pansy and Ron would find common ground. However, the curiosity about what the Department of Mysteries knew about them, and why they were paired together, lingered in her thoughts like an unopened letter.
"Ginny was going to speak to Zabini tonight," Hermione added.
"Good for Gin," Ron groaned loudly as he stretched his forearms with elastic bands.
"I'm planning to talk to Malfoy tomorrow," she announced.
"Let me know if he's being an ass; I'll set him straight," Ron offered.
"I don't need your protection."
"No?" Ron snapped the elastic bands and approached her, his eyes a vivid sky blue, flickering in the candlelight.
"No," she breathed before he captured the bottom of her lip with his own.
"Ron... I'm reading," she moaned into his mouth.
"Put the book down." Ron took the book from her hand and tossed it onto the pile of dirty clothes scattered on the floor.
His hands traced up her fleece pajama pants to her cotton tank, eliciting a shiver, though not the desired one.
Sometimes, his touch felt obligatory, a response she felt compelled to give him.
She loved him; he brought her joy and comfort, but there was always a disconnect when it came to intimacy.
Pushing aside those thoughts, she deepened the kiss.
Hermione awoke at her customary 6 AM, greeted by the gentle sunlight streaming into the room. As she sat up, she glanced around, Ron still peacefully asleep. They had both succumbed to sleep almost instantly after the orgasm the night before. Some might label it a crutch, but for Hermione, it was a welcome escape from the haunting nightmares of Bellatrix. Besides, engaging in intimacy with her boyfriend was a normal and adult part of life.
Surveying the room, she summoned her fleece pajama pants and cotton tank from the floor. Padding over to Ron's dresser, she retrieved his familiar sweater – the one Molly knitted for him every year – and pulled it over herself.
Today, she intended to approach Malfoy. However, she doubted he would be awake and visible like he had been during their first week. In fact, she hadn't spotted him for the past four mornings, so she didn't anticipate a different scenario today.
She gingerly pulled open the door, careful not to disturb Ron's slumber, and closed it silently. As she turned, she found Draco seated in the usual spot, reading a different book this time – a leather-bound one with green script on the front.
"Malfoy."
"Morning, Granger." he drawled so lazily.
This was the moment she needed, and Hermione took the chance to approach him. His hair was neatly pushed back, and his right eye bore lingering shades of purple and black, evidence of repeated healing attempts. Despite the injuries, he sat upright and rigid in his customary black tailored robes. The distinctive scent of leather and sandalwood wafted from him.
"Can I sit?" Hermione inquired, standing beside the couch where he sat.
"I figured you'd want to," Draco responded.
"Nott told me what happened to your eye."
"Theo talks too much."
"Did you know him?" she asked pointing at his black eye
"The kid that did this to me? No, but apparently I Crucio'd him six times last year," Draco stated darkly.
"How do you forget someone you did that to?"
"Easier than you think, Granger."
"I want to win, Malfoy," Hermione declared abruptly
"Of course, you do,"
"I'll try with or without your help, but I'd like you to help."
"It's not like I have a choice not to help."
"You can sit back, let me do the work if you want."
"What, like Weasley and Potter do?" Draco snapped.
"No, Ron and Harry don't do that."
"Really? As a bystander to that weird threesome you have going on, that's exactly what it looks like," Draco's eyes shifted from the "R" on the front of her sweater back to her.
"I'm not here to talk about Ron and Harry."
"What are you here to talk about, then? You're a smart girl; I would have thought you'd figured this out by now."
"What are you talking about?"
"Don't play dumb with me. I was there." Draco looked at her, his eyes holding a thousand years of pain, as he gently tapped his right arm with his index and middle fingers.
She paused. Confused.
"You think... this is what we have in common." Hermione rolled up her sleeve to reveal the carved letters – Mudblood.
Draco maintained an intense stare, his eyes locked onto her scar- his jaw visibly twitching. The sunlight accentuated his face, carving out his cheekbones even more.
"If this was about being marked, why wouldn't Theo and you be partners?" she questioned.
"Maybe you aren't as smart as everyone says you are, Granger."
What the fuck was he playing at? Trying to draw a comparison between them? Why? Because he stood idly by while his deranged aunt engraved cursed letters into her arm for eternity? Did that somehow justify them being partners?
"Don't call me Granger; call me what you really want to call me. Call me what you'd call me if your side had won the war... Mudblood." She spat.
Draco's movements were swift, catching Hermione off guard as he yanked her toward him by her forearms—dragging her to his spot, so close that she was almost in his lap. His face transformed, contorted with rage, yet his grip on her arm was oddly gentle.
His eyes, however, bore into her as if she were sitting there with nothing on, nothing but her soul laid bare. The overwhelming closeness revealed every line, every old scar, every inch of his face, leaving Hermione breathless as his grip held her still.
"I don't want to call you that," he whispered, the low tone sending a chill down her spine.
Hermione drew in a deep breath as he turned her forearm in his hand, his thumb delicately grazing over the raised skin of the letters forever etched into her skin.
A tingling sensation shot through her, a burning flame running through every blood vessel. His white-blond hair hung in front of his eyes as he looked back up at her.
"Theo and I couldn't be partners because we didn't receive our marks the same way," he continued, releasing her arm.
Suddenly, she felt cold, as if the warmth had been sucked out of the room.
Draco rolled up his left sleeve, revealing his Dark Mark. Angry red lines surrounded the entirety of it as if it had resisted settling into the skin—marks she hadn't noticed around Theo's.
"You were forced," she breathed, realization dawning.
"We both carry scars we didn't ask for," he pushed back, reclining casually on the leathery black couch, her eyes remained locked with his, lost in the depths as if she was adrift at sea.
The enchantment was broken as a small piece of parchment materialized in front of her. She blinked back into reality, watching as Draco's eyes followed her fingers carefully unraveling it.
"Ms. Granger and Mr. Malfoy, please come to see Headmistress McGonagall for your first task clue and assigned task date."
She read it aloud to him, and he rose from his seat, straightening out his robes. His dark demeanor set back in as the atmosphere shifted.
"I want to win too,"
Chapter 6: Get a Grip Malfoy
Notes:
TW - light Ron & Hermione smut - but I promise it's for the plot LOL
Chapter Text
Hermione couldn’t shake the way Draco’s hand had felt on hers, the way his thumb had grazed over her scar felt like a healing salve. She tried to keep her heartbeat in check as they went to McGonagall's office to recover their first clue and task date.
Next Friday.
Seamus and Parvati would be the first; they would have their first hunt tomorrow night. It seemed like everyone was anxious to hear about what they would encounter. Of course, they couldn’t talk about it, but even Hermione hoped she’d get an idea about what they were up against.
Ron and Harry both hadn’t come down to breakfast, and Ginny barely spoke. It was a tense atmosphere, and Hermione assumed that Ginny’s conversation with Blaise had shaken her just as hers did with Malfoy.
“I don’t want to call you that,” the way he whispered it like it physically hurt him that he needed to say it, haunted her thoughts throughout the first lessons of the day.
She should have felt repulsed by his touch, but her skin hadn’t felt like hers since his fingers left it. The shame pooled; she didn't understand.
Ron and Harry were both already seated at their desks when Hermione arrived for the Potions. Harry seemed to be just as vacant as she was. The smell of leather and sandalwood hit her senses, and her head spun as Draco entered the room. His eyes never left hers, and he took his seat next to Zabini.
The air was sucked from her lungs, and she didn’t breathe again until he released her eyes.
“’Mione, you alright?” Ron asked worriedly as he pulled out her chair.
“Ah, I’m fine.” She muttered quickly taking her seat.
“You look ill,” Ron said, moving a hair on her forehead.
“I’m fine, Ronald.”
Ron looked back and must have seen Malfoy’s eyes on the back of her head because Hermione could still sense them.
“Did you talk to Malfoy?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“I don’t want to talk about it here.” Hermione breathed quietly as Slughorn began dolling out the assignments for the day.
“Mione, come on.” Ron pressed under his breath
“Ron, give it a rest…” Harry interjected sharply.
“What’s with you both today?”
“Did Theo talk to you?” Hermione asked Harry, understanding his mood.
Harry nodded, and Hermione knew not to push the subject any further.
“Come off it, it couldn’t have been that bad,” Ron looked between them both incredulously.
“Still haven’t talked to Parkinson, then?” Harry said smugly.
“No, and I don’t plan to.”
Ron’s mood had soured for the remainder of the day. He didn’t look at either Hermione or Harry, which Hermione thought was very on brand, but she couldn’t let herself divert too much of her attention to the fact that Ron was being sulky. He had been this way their whole childhood, and she knew that he would come around eventually.
Especially with the first Quidditch Game of the year, Gryffindor versus Slytherin, happening tomorrow afternoon. Ron had been practicing relentlessly and had these strange stretching exercises he was doing nightly.
He had walked directly into his dorm after dinner, without much of a word back to Harry or Hermione, to which they both rolled their eyes and took up residence on one of the couches closest to the fireplace. Harry’s mood had remained somber, but she felt like it was the right time to ask the question.
“So, Theo?” she asked.
“So, Malfoy,” Harry quipped. Hermione smirked slightly at that.
“I asked you first,” she joked, wanting to maintain ease in the conversation.
“He watched his Mother die. He didn’t tell me how or much else, but he remembers it.”
“I didn’t know that,” Hermione felt guilty.
“How would we? We know nothing about them really,” Harry continued quietly.
“Malfoy told me something this morning - he said that the reason we were partners was because we both carry scars. When I asked him how come he and Nott weren’t partners if that were the case. He showed me his Dark Mark, it looked red, irritated. He said that it was because Theo and him didn’t get their marks the same way.”
“Malfoy was forced?” Harry said curiously, a hint of doubt in his tone
“You think he lied to me?”
“No, actually I don’t. I’ve been thinking, remember all the memories we had to give up to the ministry? I think the Unspeakable’s used them to pair us up. I’m just more surprised that Malfoy didn’t willingly take his mark but Theo did. I would have thought it the other way around.”
“I’d never given it much thought actually. I hadn’t ever thought much about why they chose to do what they did,” Hermione said, staring blankly into the fire.
She had been so wrapped up in right and wrong, good versus evil, that she never thought to explore the why of the other side.
This partnership was painful, she was being forced to look at someone, someone she hated her whole childhood, someone who stood for everything she stood against. And today, it was the first time she looked at him and felt anything other than pity or loathing, and that stirring feeling was a hard pill to swallow.
The experience they had shared, although on opposite sides of a war, really wasn’t as different as she told herself it was. They had both been forced to make choices, make decisions for the people they loved—hard and brutal decisions. She hated the fact that she was sympathizing with the choices that Draco had made, and the discomfort of that realization gnawed at her.
That night, Hermione resisted the urge to go downstairs and crawl into Ron’s bed. He was acting childish, and she wasn’t going to be the first to try to make amends. They were both too stubborn, and they could play this game for weeks if they wanted.
She woke to the nightmares that would creep back into the abyss of her mind when she was most vulnerable. Bellatrix dancing in the darkness of the manor, the searing pain of the knife.
She had been up most of the night, she was going to need a lot of caffeine to get through the day. She still had a few cans of the Red Bull that Kreacher had brought her, and she stuffed one into her bag before walking downstairs toward the Common Room. It was early, and she was hoping that Malfoy wouldn’t be waiting in his usual spot.
To her relief, he wasn't. She made it through breakfast without falling asleep in her porridge and got through her classes with some difficulty, stifling yawns and forcing her eyes open, especially in Arithmancy.
She hadn't seen Ron and Harry yet today, but the entire castle was humming. It was the first Quidditch game of the year, against Slytherin. Seas of maroon and gold filled the corridors, but Hermione noticed a lack of enthusiasm for the opposing house. Sporadic emerald and silver, but nothing like it had been in years past. Hermione was desperate for a nap, but she knew if she overslept and didn't make the game, it would only fuel the petulant fire that was already burning in Ron.
As she trudged down to the Quidditch pitch right after her last class of the day, the cheering of the crowd was overwhelming on her already thin nerves. She looked down at the Gryffindor stands, almost filled to bursting. Even Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws were supporting Gryffindor, while the Slytherin stands were essentially non-existent.
She rooted in her bookbag for the liquid gold she had stashed there this morning, standing in one of the long wooden walkways under the stands. She cracked it open.
"Drinking already, Granger?" The voice hit her like a falling icicle, she spun around to see that familiar smirking face.
"No, it's a Muggle energy drink," she retorted quickly as Draco Malfoy made his way toward her from the shadows of the overhead stands.
"A Muggle energy drink? What does that even mean?"
"It's concentrated caffeine in a carbonated form," Hermione said quickly, her hand shooting out to offer him the can without even thinking.
She didn't know why she did it. He looked at her with confusion, then trepidation as he grabbed the can from her.
Draco stood, smelling the top of the can, then took a long gulp, instantly choking and coughing.
"Is that poison? It's foul,"
Hermione felt herself smirk. It was a sick satisfaction to watch him squirm over an energy drink. What a posh tosser.
But then Draco took another drink, this time his eyes changed slightly as he took another.
"Hey! I didn't say you could have the whole thing," she protested, attempting to snatch it back, but Draco effortlessly lifted it above her head, keeping it out of her reach. His tall frame towered over her, and he smirked down at her— that infuriating smirk she couldn't stand.
"Geminio." Hermione's wand light hit the can, and a second one appeared in her hand. She gave him a smug grin and turned.
"Watching your boyfriend? Why aren't you sitting with the rest of the Gryffindors?" Draco asked coldly as a loud cheer sent a shockwave through the stands as Ron saved a goal.
"Ron, Ginny, and Harry. But I just arrived and wasn't ready to face the crowd yet," Hermione replied.
"Hiding, just like me," he said in such a low whisper that it sent a shiver down her spine.
"Why are you here anyway, if you're just going to hide under the stands?"
"Supporting Blaise," Draco said coolly, taking another sip from the stolen can of Red Bull.
A haunting boo echoed through their conversation as a green blur sped past Ginny, who seemed contorted in rage. Hermione watched as her friend rebounded, cursing at Zabini, who had just said something, and veered off in another direction.
In a flash, Ginny was behind Cootes, snatching the Bludgers bat from his hand and hurtling toward the nearest Bludger. Swinging it with all her might, she aimed it directly at Blaise. He never saw it coming; the impact smacked him square in the face, and he tumbled from his broom toward the ground. Hermione watched in horror as Madame Hooch rushed onto the field, levitating Zabini and blowing the whistle furiously. Ginny threw her broom down and stormed off the pitch.
Meanwhile, Harry landed and engaged in an animated conversation with Hooch, waving his arms in frustration.
The entire stadium was quiet as they tried to listen. "Ginevra Weasley is out of the game," MacMillan's voice boomed from the microphone as boos flooded the soundwaves once again.
"Looks like they're getting along," Malfoy smirked, and by the time Hermione had turned around, he was already halfway toward the pathway leading back to the castle.
Draco made his way back to the dormitory before the rest of the school had a chance to leave the stands; he didn't feel like falling in with a large crowd.
Clutching his Muggle drink, he pondered its taste—it was good, in a gross way. It was hard to explain why he liked it. Perhaps it was the forbidden nature of it, or maybe the lingering trace of Granger's saliva on the rim. It was sweet, sickly sweet.
His mind wandered to her scar, the touch of her skin. It burned under his touch, a sensation that wasn't painful. It felt like her skin was dissolving an ache he didn't know existed. He hated himself for the way she looked at him, as she spat the word "mudblood.”
That's what she thought of him, that he still, after all this time, hated her merely for her birth. He couldn't blame her. He had shown nothing but disdain for years.
Why should she feel any different? Yet, it was a gut punch, unlike anything he had expected.
Every time he was in her presence, there was a building tension, a struggle to touch her, to feel her, to understand her. To know her.
He kept repressing that thought. It was Granger, for fuck’s sake.
They needed to work together for the Scavenger Hunt, and that was all. He needed her, she needed him, and they needed to win. Eventually, he’d needed to convince her to let him use the prize.
When Draco swung open the door to his dormitory, the Common Room was empty yet, Pansy and Theo were lounging about in his room.
"Why the hell don't you both go to your own rooms? How do you keep getting in here?" he growled as he moved toward the bedside, taking off his outerwear.
"Stop pretending like you don't love to keep us waiting on you, Draco," Pansy scoffed, flipping the page of her Witch Weekly.
"How badly did we lose?"
"Not sure yet. Zabini got hauled off after the Weaslette hit him in the face with a Bludger."
"What?!" Theo said in an amused snort.
Before Draco could recount the story, Zabini flung himself inside Draco’s room, his Quidditch robes filthy, his eye blackened, with a small vial of potion in his hand, undoubtedly from Madame Pomfrey.
"Ginevra nearly killed me!" he roared as Theo burst out laughing, and Pansy looked slightly uneasy.
"What happened?!" Theo asked through snorts of laughter.
"Okay… they were fucking destroying us, and……I wanted to get under her skin a little, to throw her off her game, so I may have used the information I learned about her to twist a little knife in. I flew up to her and asked her if she was going to let Potter win this game for her too. Next thing I knew, I was barreling down toward the ground with my skull cracked half open," Blaise said as he fell into Draco’s desk chair.
"Could you at least scourgify the boots? You're getting mud all over my rug."
Zabini rolled his eyes and flicked his wand in annoyance.
"She tried to take your head off for that?"
"You don't get it. She has this thing that she doesn't think Potter or her brother thinks she's strong enough or capable enough. I knew it, and tried to use it." Zabini said now more quietly like he was resisting the urge to tell a secret.
"So you deserved the Bludger in the face, then?" Pansy sneered.
"You're sticking up for the Weaslette?" Theo added in surprise.
"No, but if I told you something, and you used it against me, I'd have done the same," Pansy said with a flick of her hand, turning the page of her magazine.
"I'm off to the showers. If I don't come back, I've died of my head wound." Blaise got up and slumped out of the room.
"So dramatic, Zabini," Theo shouted after him, and even Draco found himself laughing.
"When do you and Granger have your task again?" Pansy now said, looking curiously up at him.
"Next Friday," Draco said coolly.
"Nott?" she asked Theo.
"Next Saturday," he replied quickly.
"Still haven't talked to the Weasel?" Draco asked, searching her face for any form of anxiety, and he could see it wash over her.
"No, I haven't," she spat back.
"Undoubtedly, we will have a party on our hands here in the next few hours. I'm sure with Gryffindors win today, Weasley will be in a good mood," Draco suggested.
He hated himself for even trying to think of a way to talk to Ron Weasley, but the look on Pansy's face, he didn't want her to have to suffer alone, or worse the penalty of not participating.
"We'll see," she said, and Draco noticed a heavy breath before she shook off the face of worry.
He was right; it had been less than fifty minutes, and the Common Room had exploded with energy. Draco, Pansy, and Theo all sat in his room, uncorking a bottle of Ogden's until Theo forced the three of them to go into the Common Room.
Draco was annoyed; Theo was becoming the bane of his fucking existence with this forced unity bullshit, but Draco trudged behind.
To his surprise, Daphne and Blaise were already seated on the couch closest to his dormitory, chatting between themselves, as kegs of mead and butterbeer were being emptied. Draco watched the room as he moved to sit over with Zabini and Daphne, as a chorus of "Weasley is our King" erupted as Ron and Harry walked through the door, both with smug smiles on their faces.
"Don't you hate that it’s his song now?" Zabini growled toward Draco, who shared a grimace.
He despised it—his self-created anthem in their fifth year, now haunting him as the Weasel turned out to be good. It was one of Draco's most significant backfires, alongside the debacle with the fake Dementors in the third year. Both utterly idiotic moves.
"I was such a little moron then," he reflected miserably as he observed Ron making his way toward Granger.
Granger had stationed herself in the corner, arms crossed, casually sipping a drink. Her hair fell in loose, tangled curls—messy, and Draco couldn't deny he kind of liked it that way. For once, she wore fitted trousers and a small white tank top that hugged her form.
She scowled at Weasley, and Draco found a strange sense of satisfaction in her displeasure. What had the Weasel done to earn that look from her? He observed Ron approaching her, and she casually pushed his arm away, rolling her eyes as if he was over-explaining something.
"Doesn't look like it's going to be a good night to talk to Weasley," Pansy sneered, following Draco's sightlines.
Granger had pushed past him and walked toward the keg of butterbeer while Ron stood stupidly behind her, throwing his arms in the air and turning back toward Harry.
Draco didn't know why, but his legs moved without him, and his body was dragging itself over to where she was.
She smelled like lilacs and honey; fuck, it was intoxicating.
Why did she have to look like this? Gone was the awkward swot he used to despise, replaced by someone who stirred conflicting emotions within him.
“Not impressed with the win?” he asked, a stupid fucking question. He was a fucking idiot.
“What?” she turned, her big dark eyes blinking perplexed.
“Didn’t look like you and the Weasel had a good chat?”
“Oh, that? He’s annoyed I haven’t told him why we are partners yet,”
Draco swallowed hard on that. Why hadn’t she told him? He figured he’d have known. He honestly thought Potter and Weasley would be the first people she told.
Although, he hadn’t told his friends. Anytime he tried to tell Theo or Blaise, it got caught in his throat, an omission he wasn’t ready to make.
“And why haven’t you?"
“He still won’t talk to Parkinson, so I think it’s unfair,”
“Ah, you want to know his secrets before he knows yours,”
That flustered her; he could tell. Her big brain started churning over time.
“Well, not exactly. It’s just... I... I,” she was stumbling on her words like she herself wasn’t sure why she was keeping it from him.
“It’s alright, Granger. I’d do the same. How very Slytherin of you,”
“That’s not what it is. I’m not trying to be manipulative.”
“It sounds manipulative.”
“It’s not. You don’t know Ron; he sulks when he doesn’t get his way, and it annoyed me, so I guess I’m being stubborn.”
“Of course, he sulks; he’s a bloody baby,” Draco rolled his eyes.
Of course, the Weasel would sulk if his pride or feelings were hurt, always the fucking martyr.
The vision of Hermione being dragged toward Bellatrix flashed in his mind. Weasley had been like a ravenous dog, throwing himself between the Snatchers to try to get to her, begging to go in her place.
Guilt flushed over him.
He did nothing, he stood there as Weasley actually begged for her life.
Fuck, nope, can’t think that.
Draco took another long gulp.
“Malfoy?”
“What?”
“I lost you there for a minute. You didn’t even sneer at my insult.”
“I didn’t hear it,” Draco admitted, and he hadn’t. He had lost himself in that moment.
“How’s Zabini?” Hermione said, and she smiled at him, a genuine smile, not a smirk or a condescending grin. A smile a friend could give another, and he felt his heart skip a quick beat at it.
“Pride is hurt. From what I heard, he deserved it.” Draco replied casually like a friend might.
“That’s what Ginny said, although she's not talking to Harry. He tried to smooth it over with Hooch, and it enraged her even more. I haven’t seen her since she stormed from the locker rooms.”
“The Unity Project, really bringing people together,” Draco sneered, and Hermione snorted a little on her drink. She was laughing at his joke. He hadn’t heard it in such a long time, it felt foreign.
“Tell Parkinson to try Ron tomorrow. I always find it easier to talk to him the morning after a win. His ego may get in the way tonight,” Hermione said breathily as her gaze went over to the couch where Pansy, Daphne, and Zabini were sitting.
“He sounds insufferable.”
“Don’t pretend like you don’t know anything about big egos, Malfoy.”
She was quick with her wit, and he had to give her that.
“I’m the biggest prat I know, besides Theo,” He held her gaze this time and watched as goosebumps took over her skin; her face flushed.
“Mione?”
Of course, Draco couldn’t get into a conversation with Granger without the overbearing presence of the ginger twat.
“Ron,” is all she said back, her eyes snapping to where Ron was standing feet from them.
Draco stepped back slowly, refilling his drink and giving her some space as Ron reached out for her hands, which she reluctantly gave him. Draco stood eavesdropping as he pretended to refill more of his drink.
“Mione, come off it. You know I’m sorry. You know how I can get into my feelings sometimes. I’m sorry.” Draco watched as Ron tried to nuzzle her closely to him, and Hermione’s body turned away slightly.
“Ronald, you can’t just be hot and cold whenever you don’t like something I have to say.”
“I know, I know, I should have been more understanding. You can tell me on your own time.”
Hermione stood, arms tightly crossed, and Draco couldn't tear his eyes away from her every movement. Why the hell was he so damn invested? It made no sense for him to care about the spat between the Golden Girl and the Weasel. If anything, he should be relishing their discord.
And, in a twisted way, he was reveling in it—just not in the expected way. He found satisfaction in her rejection, not because he enjoyed witnessing the Golden Trio unravel.
“Come on, ‘Mione, why don’t we go to my room? You saw me out there. You could spend the night with a sought-after Quidditch player.”
“Ron, it’s not the time to bring up Viktor.”
“What? Why would you bring that up?” Ron spluttered.
Draco choked. Hermione had just dismantled her boyfriend's ego without a hint of awareness, and Draco fought back a wild burst of laughter, his chest physically aching from the effort.
"You alright there, Malfoy?" Ron's face turned crimson as he shot daggers at Draco, but no glare could deter the deeply smug monster reveling in Draco's mind from basking in this moment.
"Oh, I'm fantastic, Weasley," Draco sneered
“Can we have some privacy, please?” Ron said as he grabbed Granger’s hand and began to lightly pull her towards his dorm room.
“Ronald!” Was all Draco heard as they were squabbling. She had turned and gave Draco a forgiving grimace before the door shut.
Draco trudged back to the couch where his friends lounged, infuriated.
Why on earth did he give a damn about her and that insufferable cunt of a boyfriend? Did he actually care? The twisted pleasure he got from their conversations felt like pouring salt into a wound, and he hated himself for relishing it. Was he going mad? This was a problem that screamed for a Healer's attention.
“Granger says you should try talking to Weasley tomorrow,” Draco said as he drank another shot of firewhiskey.
“Lucky me,” Pansy downed her glass.
The rest of the evening played out. Potter vanished at some point, and Nott was seen bouncing around, engaging in conversations with Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, who all maintained a slightly standoffish demeanor. The once lively crowd dwindled, the atmosphere not nearly as raucous as the welcome-back party. Draco and the other Slytherins occupied their corner couch, playing a game of Exploding Snap, keeping to themselves. Draco found his gaze occasionally drifting towards Weasley's door, but it remained firmly shut.
Draco exited the boys' lavatory, near Weasley's door, he paused, fidgeting uncomfortably in his robes when he heard the unmistakable sounds.
A pit formed in his stomach; moans, grunts, and a breathy voice reached his ears.
"Oh yes, yes, yess…. Ron, there…"
Granger...
What the fuck?
Did the Weasel not know how to cast a bloody silencing charm?
Justin Finch-Fletchy and Terry Boot walked past as Draco moved back slightly.
“What is that?” Boot asked Justin.
“Weasley and Granger shagging. I hear it all the time. Ron never throws up a silencing charm. Like we all get it, you’re fucking the golden girl,” Justin said, rolling his eyes toward his friend.
“Yeah, but who wouldn’t? Granger is fit. Weasley played the long game,” Boot laughed, and the two boys walked into Justin’s room.
Draco looked back down, he found his hand soaked in blood; the glass in his grip had shattered. His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths.
What the hell was wrong with him?
Get a grip, Malfoy.
Get a fucking grip.
Chapter 7: The 1st Clue
Chapter Text
Hermione always left early in the morning, kissing Ron on the cheek before heading off to classes. Ron couldn't understand why she cared so much about this year's classes, especially after last year.
It felt like they could coast until the end of the year—it was more of a formality than anything. Nobody ever again was going to question any of their qualifications.
She tried to guilt him about not speaking to Parkinson, but why should he feel guilty?
The same girl who, just months ago, attempted to hand his best friend over to Voldemort. Winning this game or playing it didn't matter to him. McGonagall would have to give in eventually and let him work alone, or let her work alone.
Ron was fed up with everyone pushing this unity agenda on him. Where was unity when Lupin, Tonks, and his brother Fred died?
None of the Death Eaters should have been allowed in public. Ron hadn't testified at Malfoy's trial; he did at Goyle’s, Lucius’s, and countless others to go to Azkaban. But Harry insisted on testifying that Malfoy had saved them. Saved them? Malfoy was a coward, unwilling to invoke Voldemort's wrath unless he was certain of personal gain. There was no way in hell Ron was going to testify to save his sorry ass.
Ron felt sick when Malfoy got paired with Hermione, and the unease sat heavily in his stomach when she wouldn't tell him why they were paired.
Why keep it a secret? Had he said something to upset her? Or had he tried to gain her sympathies? She still wouldn't tell him, he nearly begged but she was a stubborn witch.
They had reconciled anyway, and Ron loved it when she ran her fingers through his hair, kissed his neck, and wrapped her legs around his waist as he entered her.
Yet, he couldn't shake the feeling that she was fragile, as if she still wasn't entirely comfortable with what they were doing. Her brilliant mind seemed to teeter between their friendship and their newfound relationship, a problem that Ron didn’t seem to have. There were boundaries he wanted to explore with her, but he didn't know how to broach the subject, he didn’t want to scare her or have her think him repulsive.
Ron hadn't allowed himself the luxury of fully relaxing since the war. He refused to let the grief surface, keeping up a façade for Hermione, Harry, and his parents. When the order came to return to the castle, he felt a nauseating churn in his stomach. He had been so adept at pretending to move on—playing the jester, being the steadfast friend. Hermione had shared his bed almost every night, and he clung to her just as desperately as she clung to him.
All Ron wanted was entry into the Auror training program. Death Eaters and Dark Wizards like Malfoy and Nott wouldn't roam freely once he became an Auror; he vowed to ensure no dark wizard walked away unscathed again.
He was gearing up to head down to the pitch for some practice. He already had breakfast with Harry, and with only a Transfiguration class this afternoon, Quidditch became his primary focus. The rush of adrenaline pulsating through his veins as he worked his body felt like the one escape he had—aside from the feeling he got when he was between Hermione’s legs.
An unscratchable itch persisted within him. No matter how many times he and Hermione were intimate or how intensely he trained, a lingering emptiness persisted.
After an hour of solo flying, he finally landed, winded and covered in dirt. The clouds above looked ominous, threatening to unleash rain at any moment.
Should he head down to Hagrid's and have a cup of tea? He hadn’t really made time for Hagrid yet, and he definitely had the time to spare.
He began to make his way back into the locker room, but he thought he heard footsteps. Pausing, he listened more intently, and then the distinct clicking of small heels.
"Who's there?" he shouted, wand at the ready, as Pansy Parkinson rounded the corner into the Gryffindor locker room.
"It's just me!" Pansy said, visibly startled as Ron kept his wand pointed at her.
"Why are you sneaking up on people?" he huffed, lowering the wand.
"I was told you'd be down here. I didn’t realize you’d be so jumpy," Pansy explained.
"A year on the run will do that to you," Ron replied scathingly.
"Right, well, is this a good time to talk about the Scavenger Hunt?" she looked annoyed, her haughty nose stuck in the air.
"No," Ron rolled his eyes.
Did she really think following him into the locker room would be the key to unlocking whatever made-up connection the Ministry said was between them?
"When is a good time, Weasley?"
"How about never?"
"I thought you were supposed to be some hero, you’re acting like a child." She spat
"Me, a child? Rich coming from you, Parkinson."
"McGonagall isn’t going to just let us sit this out. Everyone else has their task dates, except for us." She looked almost pained, her vulnerability, it was strange seeing her with such raw emotion on her face; Ron could barely recognize her.
"I'm just calling her bluff. What is she going to do if we don’t figure it out? Detention?" he scoffed.
"Azkaban," Pansy said darkly, her eyes black and watery.
"They aren't going to throw me in Azkaban."
Was she mad? They weren’t going to throw Ron Weasley, a member of the Golden Trio, into Azkaban for not completing some Ministry assignment.
"No, but they might throw me in, Weasley, I know you don’t like me, but I’m not going to Azkaban because you refuse to play a stupid scavenger hunt with me."
"You tried to hand Harry over to Voldemort last year; you should be in Azkaban." He snapped harshly
His rage flared up. Who was she to pretend like it wasn’t more than she deserved? She was willing to hand over Harry on a silver platter and auction him off to be slaughtered.
"Over a mistake? Some of us didn’t have the intel of knowing you’d hunted down and destroyed Horcruxes. From my point of view, it was a seventeen-year-old versus the most powerful dark wizard to ever live, and he threatened to kill us all if we didn’t hand him over." Pansy’s eyes began to fill with water, and Ron felt his face contort with confusion. He didn’t even know Pansy could cry.
"Yet you were the only one to volunteer to give him up."
"I might be the only one who said anything, but I wasn’t the only one thinking it."
"That doesn’t matter. All people remember is you." Ron edged closer, his rage boiling over, he couldn’t hold it back any longer.
Pansy's face was close to his, her eyes black orbs. She was fighting back tears, her face pale, and her lips cherry red. She didn’t waver under his stature; she stood her ground.
“I know,” She said through gritted teeth,
“So what will it take? What will it take to help me? I want to win, is there nothing that you want? Nothing you want the Chalice for?”
“Not really, maybe galleons,” Ron shrugged, but he knew it wasn’t galleons. Deep down, he knew what he’d ask the Chalice for—it played in his mind sometimes when Hermione looked at him. Those same eyes that broke when he left them that night in the tent. He'd give anything not to have left; her screams in the pouring rain begging him to stay, still rang in his ears.
He gulped hard.
“I’ll give you galleons. How much do you want?” She was almost pleading.
“I don’t want your galleons, Parkinson,”
“Then what do you want, Weasley? I’d give you all the galleons I have to win that Chalice, to ensure that everyone forgot—forgot what I did, what I said that night. It will follow me forever, the girl who was a coward.”
“That’s why you want to win so badly?” Ron looked at her like she had three heads. There was no way Princess Parkinson cared this much about what people thought of her.
“You may not understand. You’ve probably never had a moment in your life where you weren’t brave, weren’t loyal, weren’t the person you thought you were.” Pansy scoffed and rolled her eyes, and her words cut through him.
There were plenty of times he wasn’t those things—in the fourth year when he didn’t believe Harry, when he acted out against Hermione at the Yule Ball because he was jealous, then again with Lavender.
The night he left; that night, any time he felt like he was brave, felt like he had done something right, that he was the man Hermione deserved, that night would pop up deep in his mind, edging its way to the front like a soul-sucking Dementor.
Ron was reluctant; he knew exactly why he was partnered with Pansy now, but he couldn’t formulate the words. He had never told anyone about leaving them. Harry and Hermione had kept it a secret as well, and he couldn’t fathom facing Ginny or his parents with the truth. Bill had managed to keep it a secret, and deep down, Ron had always hoped it would remain one. If nobody spoke about it, then it would be like it never happened.
“There is one thing I’d want more than galleons, Parkinson,” Ron choked out. Her eyes seemed to soften at his words, and she moved closer to him, as if terrified he’d back out of what he was about to say.
“I left them. Last year, one night when we were camping, hiding from Voldemort. It was the Horcrux; we were taking turns wearing it, and it wore me down. Everything horrible I’d ever thought about myself, about Harry, about Hermione, bubbled to the surface. Then, I left. I was able to come back, but it took weeks to find them again. Hermione's voice, screaming after me to stay, the way she looked at me when I Apparated. That memory will be burned into my brain forever. If I could, I’d take back that night.”
There was a long pause between them, it took all his strength to meet her eyes again.
“You could ask the Chalice for a chance to make others forget your mistakes,” Pansy said, staring directly back at him. But her eyes weren’t full of disgust like he had thought they would be like he knew Ginny’s would have been if she ever knew. Instead, it was understanding.
“We have something in common after all, although neither of us is proud of it. Kind of a sick way to make a pairing.”
“You’ve got that right,” Pansy let out a small laugh, and a piece of parchment materialized, floating down from the ceiling in front of them. They both watched as it landed on the tiled floor.
Ron grabbed it and opened it, watching Pansy the entire time.
"Mr. Weasley and Ms. Parkinson, please come to see Headmistress McGonagall for your first task clue and assigned task date."
“Well, you aren’t going to Azkaban today, Parkinson,” Ron shoved the roll into her dainty hands as she looked up at him, letting a few of her tears roll down her cheek.
He hated this year. He’d rather face the troll again, or maybe even Voldemort at least Voldemort never asked him to talk about his feelings.
Hermione stood waiting outside the Common Room; it was their first task. The week had gone by in a blur, and as October approached, her coursework began to pile up. Ron had finally spoken with Pansy, and she noticed a sense of relief wash over him afterward.
Ron had been reluctant to speak to her about the why of his pairing with Pansy, just as she had been hesitant to discuss her partnership with Malfoy. At first, she thought it was a way to punish her for not telling him about her and Draco’s scars. But he had been so sincere; it wasn’t his usual sulk. Hermione wanted to pry; she wanted to know more, but she thought better of it.
She tapped her foot impatiently; it was 7:56 PM, and Draco still wasn’t at their meeting spot, and he held the parchment on which the clue would reveal itself.
Seven pairs had already gone through their tasks, and each returned somber and unexcited, reluctant to share much. It made Hermione sick with anxiety all day about what they’d face.
In the Great Hall, there was a bulletin displaying the current time rankings of the top five pairs:
- Ernie MacMillan and Luna Lovegood – 25 minutes and 13 seconds
- Michael Corner and Mandy Brocklehurst – 27 minutes and 45 seconds
- Dean Thomas and Justin Finch-Fletchley – 31 minutes and 55 seconds
- Lisa Turpin and Anthony Goldstein – 36 minutes and 10 seconds
- Parvati Patil and Seamus Finnegan – 37 minutes and 5 seconds
"25 minutes and 13 seconds, that’s what they’d have to beat today," Hermione muttered to herself, taking a deep, steadying breath as Malfoy rounded the corner, looking nonplussed, which rubbed her the wrong way.
He was in his midnight black trousers, and a black button-up, running his hand through his hair like he always did. His scent, that delicious blend of leather and sandalwood, hit her nose.
"Cutting it close, aren’t we?" she remarked.
"Calm down, Granger. We still have two minutes," he retorted, rolling his eyes as he leaned against the brick wall beside her. She took another steadying breath, her stomach in knots as she watched the time.
"Nervous?" he asked.
"Aren’t you?" she shot back.
"Not really. It’s still a game; it can’t be that bad, can it?"
"Have you seen everyone’s faces when they return? They didn’t look like it was a stroll in the park."
"I never thought it would be, but we need to work together if we want to beat MacMillan and Lovegood’s time, so take a breath and stop berating me," Draco admitted.
“I’m not berating you,” she said a little quieter, less defensive.
The scroll unraveled itself in Malfoy’s hand, and as if an invisible quill was writing, letters began to show up in glowing gold before cooling to obsidian.
Hermione moved quickly to Draco’s side. She barely noticed that she was brushed up against him until she felt him stiffen at her touch, and she moved slightly away.
“I am the birth of love and spiritual beauty. A driving force of life, open what’s behind me, and may you find the memories you thought you’d lost,”
She looked from Malfoy back to the parchment, watching his face closely as he read and re-read. Her mind raced; the clock had started.
“I am the birth of love and spiritual beauty,” she whispered, and she watched Draco’s eyes dart to the darkening sky out the window.
“Venus?” he said, looking back at her curiously.
“Venus,” she cursed silently. She should have thought of that.
“Of course. You don’t think we need to go to the Astronomy Tower, do you? Can you even see Venus tonight?”
She watched Draco’s eyes darken at the mention of the tower, his jaw twitching.
“That would be the cherry on top, wouldn’t it,” he said through a grimace.
“But it doesn’t make sense. Open what’s behind me; there isn’t anything behind the Astronomy Tower, and I doubt you’ve lost the memories of what happened up there,” she said, understanding completely why his body language had changed.
“Astute as ever,” he replied, as if he wasn’t there, as if he was Occluding.
“Don’t….. Don’t Occlude. I need you.”
She wasn’t sure why he had listened to her, but she watched as his walls came down and his eyes shifted back to a smoky grey.
Hermione was determined. It all flooded back to her. Ron didn’t understand why she continued to work so hard, getting good grades, or keeping up with work. Ron always said they could coast; their accomplishments last year were enough. But they weren’t enough for her. In every news article, and every press conference, her name was always printed as “Muggleborn Witch Hermione Granger.” She was still proving herself.
Still, to this day, she was always going to be looked at like she wasn’t enough. And she was determined to win. Determined to win at everything, to prove she was a witch and a powerful one.
“Malfoy, The Birth of Venus?” Hermione asked, picturing the painting in her mind.
She had seen it before in the castle, or had she?
He looked at her slightly stunned. She didn’t have time to catch him up. She spun around, and behind her hung a large portrait of a stout old man in a dressing gown, peering out a window of an old cottage looking into a long field of wheatgrass.
“Excuse me,” she asked the man, who turned and looked very surprised that anyone was talking to him.
“Excuse me, sir. Do you happen to know if there is a painting somewhere in the castle of The Birth of Venus?”
The man turned, pondering her for a moment.
“Granger…” she heard Draco growl from behind her, but she waved him off.
“Yes, my dear. She lives up on the seventh floor, the long corridor toward the Charm’s classroom. She doesn’t ever talk to anyone, you know, or let people visit her painting or visit other paintings. Haughty if you ask me.”
“Thank you, thank you,” Hermione said, spinning around to look at Draco, his eyes flashing in realization.
“Open what’s behind me,” he said.
“It’s like the Gryffindor portrait hole. There must be something behind her painting.”
“Seventh floor?” Draco asked as he went to move, and Hermione’s blood suddenly ran cold.
The seventh-floor corridor, the Charms corridor. She hadn’t been there in months. The last vision she had was of Fred, lying there motionless under a pile of rubble. Ron’s face, she’d never forget it.
Her eyes swelled with water, and she was frozen. She tried to move a leg, but it wouldn’t budge.
“I can’t,” she let out a small sob in shock at the visceral reaction her body was taking.
“What do you mean you can’t?” Draco’s face looked twisted with confusion and what looked like worry.
“Fred... it’s where Fred died,” Hermione explained.
Draco’s face fell into a poignant realization, spreading over his sharp features. His eyes softened, a wave of understanding.
“You do not need to fear ghosts, Granger,” he reassured her.
“I don’t fear ghosts, I fear the memories,” she confessed.
Hermione felt a jolt as Draco's presence drew nearer. With every movement, his scent wafted toward her, wrapping around her like a familiar embrace.
The warmth emanating from him seeped into her, comforting yet unnerving at the same time.
“Can you Occlude?” he asked gently.
She just shook her head.
“Alright, do you trust me?” Draco moved even closer, his body so close to hers, his voice a whisper. He clenched and unclenched his fists.
Hermione hesitated, her mind racing with conflicting thoughts and emotions.
Trusting Draco seemed like a leap into the unknown, a risk she wasn't sure she was prepared to take. But as she locked eyes with him, something shifted within her. It was a fragile thread, woven from the understanding that had developed between them these past few weeks.
He placed his hands on opposite sides of her temples. They were warm, but she could feel the cold gold of his signet ring press against her skin.
His eyes locked onto hers, and his breath drew into hers.
Mint.
She felt her mind open. For the smallest of moments, she felt like resisting, but she didn’t. She let him in. She willingly opened the door.
Unfolding before her mind's eye, Hermione found herself transported to the familiar grounds of the Burrow. The vibrant hues of the field, bathed in the soft glow of twilight, stretched out before her. Overhead, the sky shimmered with an ethereal purple hue, Ron soared through the air, his fiery hair catching the last rays of the setting sun as he maneuvered on his broomstick, he tossed the Quaffle to Ginny, who darted through the air, her laughter echoing across the open expanse. Below, the comforting aroma of Molly's cooking drifted from the bustling kitchen window, mingling with the sweet scent of wildflowers and freshly cut grass.
The tranquil scene dissolved into darkness, shrouding Hermione in an unsettling void.
Yet, amidst the abyss, familiar sensations began to coalesce around her—a heady aroma of leather and sandalwood. Suddenly, like a bolt from the ice, a chilling sensation crept into her veins. Two iridescent orbs materialized before her, piercing through the darkness with an eerie intensity.
The orbs turned into a face, the features sharpened with stark clarity—an angular jawline, contoured cheekbones, and locks of white-blond hair framing a forehead creased with tension.
“Malfoy...” she whispered.
The seventh-floor corridor was now back in her vision, and they were both standing in front of the painting of The Birth of Venus. She was panting heavily as he stepped back.
He'd helped her Occlude, helped her get here without having to relive the memory of Fred dying.
The Birth of Venus was moving gracefully in front of them, the small waves crashing around the shell. Venus herself was unmoving except for her hair in a breeze, but her eyes followed them.
“We’re looking for the memories we lost,” Draco’s voice was hoarse, and he cleared it again before Venus swung open, revealing a long corridor with small burning candelabras lining the circular tunnel walls.
Hermione felt her heart begin to beat more rapidly, panic still surging in her. She wasn’t sure she was ready to find whatever lay at the end of this tunnel.
A searing hot touch, not painful, soothing, pressed on her lower back. Malfoy had put his hand reassuringly on her back to usher her through the threshold.
Her body shivered. It reacted without her brain at every lingering touch.
They both walked silently down the corridor, an emerald green glow illuminated from a chamber at the very end of the corridor. They were met with a glowing transparent wall with deep carvings of Ancient Runes on it.
“We need to translate to move past,” Hermione's voice echoed softly in the eerie silence.
“This is easy,” he scoffed as he moved closer to the wall. Both he and Hermione had studied Runes, and it seemed like they both recognized the basic symbols etched onto the invisible forcefield.
Hermione focused on one Rune as Draco took the next. Within a matter of moments, they had translated the entire slab.
“Remember the darkness, it will show you the light,” Hermione murmured as she finished translating the last Rune.
With a low hum, the glowing forcefield fell, and a strong breeze burst past them as two glittering shining balls hung in the air before them.
“Remembralls?”
“Two of them? Here.” Draco reached for them, plucking them out of thin air. He passed the other that had been suspended there to Hermione.
As soon as Hermione’s hands touched the ball, it felt like she was being shot through time and space. Memories, faces, and moments long gone swirled into her mind, overwhelming her senses. She stopped briefly, trying to steady herself amidst the torrent of recollections.
“Have you seen a toad?” It was herself, in her first year, opening Malfoy’s compartment door, trying to help Neville. He sneered something rude, and she kept going.
Another flash, and she was shot out again, propelled into another memory.
"Filthy Mudblood,” Draco spat as they stood by the Quidditch Pitch in her second year. She began to feel hot tears pricking at her eyes again.
Another shot, and she was standing at the entrance to the Great Hall, arm in arm with Krum, brushing past Malfoy with a defiant glance.
The last blast sent her reeling, and she felt herself falling. She was lying on the ground of Malfoy Manor, in the drawing room. She could hear Bellatrix’s cackle, but she couldn’t see her. All she saw were his eyes. Those iridescent orbs stared back at her with a mix of discomfort and fear. She watched as Draco moved, and squirmed, appearing horrified, his jaw twitching as he didn’t look away.
She blinked, and she was back in the room, both Remembralls had smashed onto the floor. Draco was standing against the brick wall, breathing heavily, like he was trying to catch his breath.
A glow from the shards of the Remembralls illuminated the space again, and the glass bits began shaking on the floor, pulling toward each other until they formed.
19 minutes and 5 seconds.
The shards suddenly caught fire, Hermione jumped back, watching as the flames consumed them until only embers remained. In the smolder a small piece of parchment emerged.
They both stared down at it, a silent tension hanging in the air.
Draco moved first, his shoes crunching on the burnt glass shards as he cautiously approached and picked up the parchment. Carefully, he unraveled it.
“Congratulations Mr. Malfoy and Ms.Granger, your next hunt will begin November 16th at 8:00 PM,” he read aloud, his voice betraying none of the emotions she knew were swirling inside him.
Draco turned, his jaw clenched tightly as he tucked the parchment into his robes. Without a word to Hermione, he stormed down the corridor they had just come down.
Hermione hurried after him, her voice echoing down the empty tunnel.
"Malfoy, Malfoy! What did you see?"
"Leave it alone, Granger," Draco snapped, his tone sharp and final. "We beat the time, that's all that matters."
"It does matter!" Hermione insisted "Do you think everyone went through that? Did we all get the same clue? If we did, we need to warn the others. I need to warn Ron; he can't go down that corridor either."
“We both know you can’t do that; I’m not risking losing because you want to save the Weasel from some discomfort,”
She felt her rage began to simmer, threatening to erupt into a full-blown fire. She couldn't make sense of Draco's behavior. He had been cooperative, even helpful until they reached that chamber. It was as if touching the Remembralls had triggered something within him, reverting him to his dismissive, aloof self.
Why did he insist on treating her with such contempt, especially after the moment of unexpected kindness he had shown her?
"You know," she started, her voice trembling with suppressed anger, "you're just like Ron. Hot and cold. Kind when you need something, and cold whenever you don't like something you hear."
Before Hermione could even react, he was on her. His body eclipsed hers against the cold, unforgiving brick wall.
The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows around him, accentuating the intensity of his stare. It sent shivers down her spine, holding her in a tight grip.
Her wrists were wrapped in his powerful grasp, his hands firmly pinning them against the rough surface of the wall.
The air crackled with tension, the silence broken only by the sound of their breathing, heavy and ragged.
“Never compare me to your boyfriend” His voice, was a low, venomous tone, the minty scent of his breath lingering tantalizingly close to her lips.
"I'm nothing like Weasley," Draco spat the words with a forceful intensity, releasing her wrists abruptly.
She stood there, speechless, her body still tingling from his touch.
Leaning against the wall, Hermione remained there long after Draco had stormed off down the corridor, the echoes of his boots fading into the distance. Her mind was racing.
She struggled to catch her breath.
What did he see in those memories? What was it about her comparison to Ron that had triggered such a reaction in him? Did he truly hate Ron THAT much? And why did he care so much?
The way he had held her against the wall- it was powerful and exhilarating, it left her reeling. It was a sensation unlike anything she had experienced before, and it left her questioning everything.
“What the fuck had just happened?” she finally breathed to herself.
Chapter 8: The Birth of Venus
Notes:
TW : This chapter will feature light infidelity
Chapter Text
Harry strolled from his dorm toward the small alcove outside the Common Room entrance, where he was supposed to meet Nott for the Scavenger Hunt. Hermione had returned last night in an erratic mood, refusing to divulge any information despite Harry's attempts to pry it out of her.
He wasn't exactly looking forward to whatever awaited him tonight. Two teams had already gone yesterday: Malfoy with Hermione, and Daphne with Neville.
Tomorrow, it would be Ginny's turn. But things between him and Ginny had been strained ever since last week's Quidditch Match. She wouldn't tell him what Zabini had said to upset her so much, and when he offered to talk to Blaise, she snapped at him.
The Unity Project was starting to feel more like a burden than a solution. Harry was tempted to bypass Ginny and go straight to McGonagall, demanding she intervene in the situation. He even entertained the idea of confronting Zabini without her knowledge, but the thought of provoking Ginny's anger held him back.
He felt torn between his instincts and what he believed was the right thing to do. Ginny insisted she could handle it, but Harry couldn't shake the desire to help her, even if it meant navigating through her wrath after.
When Harry had left the Great Hall after dinner the new standings were posted on the bulletin:
- Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger – 19 minutes and 5 seconds
- Ernie MacMillan and Luna Lovegood – 23 minutes and 13 seconds
- Michael Corner and Mandy Brocklehurst – 27 minutes and 45 seconds
- Dean Thomas and Justin Finch-Fletchley – 31 minutes and 55 seconds
- Neville Longbottom and Daphne Greengrass – 33 minutes and 14 seconds
There was widespread astonishment at how quickly Hermione and Draco had completed their task. Less than twenty minutes was going to be a tough time to beat, and Harry wasn't sure if he had the determination to push himself that hard.
He was competitive, sure, but he had already given his all to this school and the wizarding world.
"It's good to see you again, Potter. Almost ready, are we?" Nott's voice grated on Harry's nerves, his sarcastic tone already wearing thin.
"Nott, I saw you like an hour ago in class," Harry replied, his annoyance evident.
"It's called being polite. I thought you'd know that," Nott retorted.
Harry glanced down at the watch Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had given him. It was two minutes until 8:00 PM when their clue would be revealed.
"We'll have to beat Draco and Granger... 19 minutes," Nott said casually, drawing closer to Harry, the piece of parchment held tightly between his fingers.
"Don’t you think they have an unfair advantage?" Harry mused aloud.
Draco was book smart, cunning, and calculated—never making a move without careful consideration. Harry had never been fond of Draco; in fact, he'd hated him for most of his adolescence. But now, while he wouldn't call Draco a friend, he certainly respected those traits. And as for Hermione, Harry had never underestimated her. She was the scariest person he'd ever met, and he meant that as a compliment.
"See, I thought we had the unfair advantage," Nott laughed.
As the scroll began to unravel in Theo's hand, letters appeared in glowing gold before cooling to a deep black. Theo opened the parchment, and Harry felt his heartbeat quicken, a surge of adrenaline similar to before a Quidditch match.
"I am the birth of love and spiritual beauty. A driving force of life, open what's behind me, and may you find the memories you thought you'd lost."
"What the fuck?" Harry rolled his eyes.
Was this some kind of joke or a riddle? This wasn't his forte; he'd always been terrible at this sort of thing. It had taken him weeks to figure out the egg in the Triwizard Tournament, and even then, Cedric had to give him the clue about the prefect's bath.
"Not a fan of riddles?" Theo joked.
"I've never been a fan of any Riddle," Harry quipped back, and he watched Theo’s smile widen.
"Let's dissect, 'I am the birth of love and spiritual beauty.' We could start at the library. Maybe it's about the witch who created Amortentia?" Theo suggested, his brain seemingly working faster than Harry's; like he was flipping through an encyclopedia in his mind. It reminded Harry of Hermione.
"Amortentia is not a driving force of life, trust me. I saw Ron when he accidentally ingested some; it was painful to watch," Harry remarked.
"Right... 'Open what's behind me.' Whatever it is, it's hidden behind something else," Nott pondered aloud.
"There are so many hidden passageways in and out of the castle. Could it be one of them?" Harry questioned.
"Are any of them hiding behind a driving force of life or spiritual beauty?" Theo snorted.
"Gods, no. Unless they're talking about the Fat Lady guarding Gryffindor Tower, but I don't think anyone would call her beautiful," Harry laughed.
A pause, and Theo’s face changed, Harry watched as if a light had turned on behind his eyes.
"That's it, Potter, you brilliant bastard! The Birth of Venus!” Theo exclaimed, grabbing Harry's head in his palms and planting a kiss on his forehead.
"Bloody hell, Nott, the Birth of what?" Harry spluttered as he pulled away from Theo's grip.
"The Birth of Venus, that Italian painting! The castle has the original; it was done before the Muggles reworked it. It's on the seventh floor," Theo shouted, his eyes gleaming with delight.
"You know where it is?" Harry pressed, a small glimmer of hope erupting in his mind.
He did love winning.
"Yes, it's hung on the wall, on the way to the Charms corridor. In the second year, Blaise had a weird obsession with her; he'd always walk a little farther behind us on the way to class," Theo added quickly, his legs already moving before waiting for Harry's response.
Harry and Theo were now running up the hallway, their shoes clattering on the marble and brick flooring. They were only two floors away, so both boys' long legs got them there in minutes. Harry barely recognized the floor he was running on.
He knew this was the corridor where Fred had died, where the Room of Hidden Things had burst into flames. But no matter how hard Harry tried, the visions of their bodies wouldn't come back to his mind. He barely remembered Fred lying there. The pain in his scar had been so unbearable that his vision had obscured everything, leaving his memory faded.
Or was it his own death that made him forget that night? He didn't know, but he wasn’t haunted by the corridor the way he noticed Ron and Hermione were, and he felt guilty for it.
He ran fast to keep up with Theo. Theo was about a foot taller than him, and his legs were longer. Panting, Theo stopped as Harry stood beside him, still catching his last breath.
"She's here," Theo breathed.
Harry was taken aback by the sudden presence of the portrait, how had he never noticed her before? She was hauntingly beautiful, with small blue and white waves crashing around her pale pink shell. Her hair danced in an unseen breeze, and her eyes seemed to follow both boys.
"Will you open for us?" Harry asked, feeling a bit foolish for his blunt approach.
"Potter, that's a little crass to ask a lady," Theo shot back with a laugh.
"What memories have we lost?" Theo continued, and Harry felt stupid for not choosing his words more carefully.
The portrait swung open, revealing a small tunnel with candlesticks lighting their way. Theo stepped through first, his wand raised with a "Lumos."
Harry felt his heart pounding in his throat. What lay at the end of this tunnel? Another riddle? A test? Was it all over? Was this passage new? It had never appeared on the Marauder's Map before. Unless his father, Lupin, and Sirius had never known of its existence.
He noticed Theo's towering figure stop ahead as if an invisible forcefield barred their entry.
"What is it?" Harry asked, rounding beside him. As they came face to face with a massive translucent glowing slab, with runic carvings etched all down its surface.
"I've never taken Runes," Harry admitted, feeling even more foolish. He realized that Theo had carried them through this challenge so far—guessing the painting, correctly asking the portrait for guidance.
Harry cursed himself internally; he had told himself he didn't care about the challenge, but now he felt like he wasn't living up to Theo's expectations, and he didn't understand why, but he felt ashamed.
"I take Runes, and luckily for us, these are basic. It's no wonder Malfoy and Granger got the timing they did; they probably breezed by them in minutes. It will take me a moment, but I can translate," Theo said confidently.
Harry watched, still astonished at how calculated Theo's mind worked. He had always thought Theo was a sardonic ass, but now he understood his friendship with Draco. They were both clever, both calculated, and both sardonic asses. It sent a shiver down Harry's spine to think about it.
Then another thought, with Hermione's voice echoing in his mind:
" Theo and him didn't get their marks the same way."
Theo had willingly taken his Mark. Why? Harry didn't see any of the hate and malice that had poured from Draco over the years in Nott, yet Draco tried to resist getting the Dark Mark while Theo didn't.
Harry couldn’t make sense of it, but he couldn’t help but feel that he and Ron were wildly unprepared to be Aurors. If the Dark Wizards still on the run were anything like Nott and Malfoy, they might end up dead in their first week out of Auror training.
"I've got it," Theo's voice broke Harry's internal spiral.
"Remember the darkness; it will show you the light," Theo uttered, and the force field fell, revealing two shining white orbs suspended in the middle of a circular room.
Harry bounded forward but was instantly stopped by Theo's outstretched arm hitting his chest.
"We should smash them," Theo suggested.
"What? Nott, are you mad? Smash them? It's our last clue," Harry protested, they were so close.
"I don't think we want to remember what's in those," Theo replied.
"What do you mean?" Harry looked back at the glowing spheres.
"Remember the darkness; it will show you the light. If we grab those Remembralls, I think it will show us things I'd rather not remember," Theo said in a dark tone.
"Nott, if we smash them, we could get disqualified or marked as incomplete."
"Do you trust me, Potter?" Theo asked.
"Not really," Harry admitted.
Nothing in his past gave him any reason to trust Theo, but there was a nagging feeling at the back of his throat, a pulsing in his scar that made him, for a moment, consider that Theo might be right.
"Potter, I may be a massive prat, and ex-Death Eater but please, trust me," Theo said with all the sincerity in the world, his eyes burning into Harry's.
Harry sighed, then nodded, and they both stepped forward, wands raised.
"Bombarda!" they both yelled, and the two white crystals exploded with tremendous force, glass shards raining down on them. Voices and faces began to swirl in the room—Sirius, Lupin, Voldemort's—and then others, faces Harry didn't recognize, voices he couldn't place, swirling around the room in a chaotic tornado.
"Protego!" Harry roared, pulling Theo toward him as the glass shards rained down on the ground around them.
As the glass settled and the room cleared from the dark mist, Harry looked over, Theo had been right. He didn't know what he would have seen if he had picked up the Remembrall, but he was certain if he did, he would have been able to see Fred's face again.
He wasn't sure how he felt about it. The task was to face the darkness, but Theo hadn't wanted to, and selfishly, neither had Harry.
A glow from the shards of the Remembralls illuminated the space again, and the glass bits began shaking on the floor, pulling toward each other like magnets.
Theo and Harry stepped back, watching, waiting. Had they been caught? Were they about to be disqualified? Technically, they hadn't finished the task.
20 minutes and 25 seconds
A long pause filled only by Theo's breathing.
"Well, we didn't beat Granger and Malfoy, although we probably could have if you had taken Runes," Theo sneered with a smug smile.
Ginny had been simmering with anger for a week. She felt misunderstood, isolated, and lonely. Harry, as always, tried to intervene and fix her problems, which only fueled her fury further. Ever since they had started dating, Harry had always stood in front of her, trying to protect her. He had tried to persuade her to stay behind during the Battle, he hadn't wanted her to join their mission, and he even broke up with her to protect her. She understood his reasons, but it didn't make it hurt any less. It felt like he thought she was too weak to handle herself, too weak to handle what he faced.
Since being kicked off the Pitch, all Harry had tried to do was smooth things over with Hooch or in his fury chastise Zabini for her. But she didn't need him to fight her battles. She could handle Blaise herself.
She knew he had tried to get under her skin, and she had let him. She was more furious with herself.
Of course, a snake-like Zabini would resort to such tactics. Serpents strike most fiercely when trapped in a corner.
Almost her entire life, she had waited for Harry. Eleven-year-old Ginny would have swooned at the mere thought of Harry Potter wanting to rescue her, wanting to save her. Ever since he had risked his life for hers in the Chamber of Secrets, she had felt like Harry always looked at her as someone in desperate need of protection, as if in his eyes, she was forever that frail, innocent girl.
Ginny had never given up on him, but she had realized that she couldn't let her life revolve solely around Harry anymore. She wasn't that girl anymore. Her heart had shattered into a million pieces when she thought Harry had been killed by Voldemort. She had to relive that image in her nightmares until she woke up in his arms. It was a demented déjà vu.
Thankfully, they weren't the last to complete the hunt. Pansy and Ron were scheduled for next week. Harry and Theo had finished the night before.
In her brief conversation with Harry that morning, all she got was a reassuring, "You'll be fine, just take your time, and let me know if Zabini gives you any trouble."
Fucking Zabini.
Ginny tapped her foot anxiously, waiting for him to arrive at the meeting space they had been required to meet at. Draco and Hermione's time was daunting, and Harry and Theo had just missed it. She was determined to beat Harry's time. She wasn't sure why she felt the need to prove something to him, or maybe it was to herself.
"Ginevra," his voice was cold, shifting the air in the corridor as she turned to face his imposing figure standing stiffly in front of her.
"I liked your face better when it was purple," she sneered, meeting his gaze. The bruise had disappeared, and Zabini's smooth, dark skin was flawless again.
"I like your face exactly the way it is," he smiled back. It always gave her a sharp stab of discomforted pleasure when he spoke so directly to her. He didn't hide anything; he said exactly what he wanted to.
"I deserved that, by the way. I shouldn't have said that," Zabini admitted.
"I don't need your apology," Ginny replied in a scoff
"I'm not apologizing. I'm just telling you I deserved your retaliation." He moved closer, and Ginny felt a strange tantalizing sensation. He was so direct, so unapologetic. She used to think his personality was boring or stoic, but it wasn't. It was calm and decisive. She wasn't used to it, wasn't used to rational thinking. She thought, smiling to herself, thinking of Ron and Harry.
"Has anyone let any secrets slip? My friends have all kept tight-lipped about what’s ahead," Blaise continued, pushing through Ginny's silence.
"No, Hermione's been acting weirder than usual, and Harry seemed, well, he seemed almost shy about it…. I don't like it. Everyone’s acted like they were held under Veritaserum and forced to expose their darkest secrets," Ginny replied.
Blaise laughed, a genuine laugh. "That explains Draco," he replied.
A warm glow emanated from Blaise's pocket, and he instantly dove in to grab at the small parchment McGonagall had given them. He unraveled it to show tiny black cursive writing.
“I am the birth of love and spiritual beauty. A driving force of life, open what's behind me, and may you find the memories you thought you'd lost."
Blaise began to smile, and chuckle as he read the note, and Ginny looked at him with fury.
What the hell was funny about this? She had no idea where to even begin with this clue, and he hadn't even let her re-read it before his laugh sounded down the hall.
“Zabini!” Ginny snapped.
"Love is ever-changing, fickle, and chaotic," Zabini whispered in a low tone, drawing closer to her ear. She instantly swatted him away.
"What are you on about?" she demanded.
"An Ode to Aphrodite, The Birth of Venus, Goddesses of Love and Beauty. It's what I love about Ancient Runes and History of Magic—how ancient Muggle and wizarding communities alike blended to create images of divine beings. Aphrodite and Venus are my favorite. The world wouldn't be the same if I couldn't walk down Diagon Alley and have the pleasure of seeing many, many beautiful witches," His eyes lingered up and down her as he finished his sentence.
"You're foul," she rolled her eyes.
Was he playing with her? Did he know the clue, or was this all still some sick game to him?
"Don't pretend like you don't notice every boy's eyes on you, Ginevra. Before Potter finally pulled his head out of his ass, I think every bloke in the school had the hots for you. Many still do," Blaise said, so close to her that her heart pounded in her chest.
Why was he saying this to her?
There was another thumping, a thumping that sent pulses downward, to her core. His voice was like melted chocolate. She didn't understand. She hated this man. Why was he standing here saying this? Was he flirting with her, and did she fucking like it?
"So, what's the clue then, Zabini? Your mysterious persona is wearing on my nerves," she inched closer to him, closing the gap to see if he'd back down, but he didn't.
"Seventh floor. The Birth of Venus is hung in the corridor. I used to lag behind in my second year when I first noticed her. You can see a nipple... So, until I saw a live woman's nipple, she had me enthralled," Blaise gulped hard, but he didn't back down. He stood grounded in front of her.
Ginny pushed past him, her shoulder brushing against his as she began to march silently toward the stairwell that wound up toward the seventh floor. She could hear his footsteps trailing behind, but she didn't look back.
How had she never noticed this painting before? Was she so self-absorbed, so unaware of her surroundings? She must have passed it hundreds of times, granted there were thousands of portraits hanging about the castle.
She focused on her miss of the portrait, pushing down the swirling feelings of tension pulsing through her body from the way Zabini had pushed up against her.
"To your left," his voice rang out, and as Ginny swung her head, she saw it.
It was mesmerizing. How could she have never noticed it before? She stood stunned, Venus seemed to see into her soul, like they were connected by sight; bonded for a moment. The hair, so similar to Ginny’s color, blew in the wind.
"My love, will you show us what memories we have lost?" Blaise's oozed in his seductive tone, and the portrait swung open, revealing a cavernous tunnel stretching in front of them.
"After you," Blaise insisted as they stepped through.
Ginny felt the persistent feeling of the portrait's stare in the back of her mind like being birthed into this world whole, innocent, and full of love to give. Ginny hadn't felt that way in years. A part of her felt like she was looking back into the eyes of her younger self, doted on and cherished.
In the past year, she had felt moments where all the innocence and light that use to fill her life had been sucked from the world. She felt like she wasn't the person she wanted to be, that she struggled against the image everyone else had of her. The delicate balance she walked, wanting to please everyone around her, her family, her friends, and Harry; it felt like at any moment the wrong step would cause her to tumble and she would never get back up.
The glow hit her eyes before Zabini’s words did, the greenish hue emanating from the Runes carved into a translucent wall. She'd never seen anything like it.
She wondered what magic had created this. Was it McGonagall? Flitwick? Or the Unspeakables?
"You don’t take Runes," It wasn’t a question; it was a statement to which she said nothing.
"It makes sense now about Malfoy and Nott’s times..." Zabini took charge. Ginny stood to the side, feeling useless, and she didn’t like it. She had felt exactly how Harry always made her feel until he turned back again.
"Do you want to know what this one means? If you did, you'd be able to help me figure out the rest," his voice was hoarse, but oddly kind, like a professor's.
"Yes," she nodded quickly. He began to explain the etching of one of the more basic carvings. Then he grabbed her wand hand and traced over the lines, moving her wand with his, standing closely behind.
She could feel his pulse in his wrist as he grasped her hand. She could feel his chest rise and fall as he pressed against her back, his voice so low, like a light rain falling against a window, it was soothing.
Her heart beat fast, but not erratically. It was calm, steady, and focused.
They turned over each Rune, his hand never leaving hers, his instructions direct but not patronizing. He was encouraging her, teaching her, guiding her; she felt powerful, in control.
"Remember the darkness; it will show you the light,"
Ginny closed her eyes as the wall fell, and the breeze ran through her hair. She envisioned herself as the goddess Venus, cascading naked in the sun while a whispering wind sang through her.
When she opened her eyes, she saw Zabini move toward a white globe, suspended in the air. They glittered; there were two.
“We’re supposed to take them,” he said curiously as he moved forward.
Ginny following his lead, went to place her hands on the globe closest to her, she hesitated for a moment, then grabbed tightly.
Her eyes shot open as if she were being sucked through space and time.
It was nauseating.
Like being shot from a cannon, her mind's eyes opened, and she was being forcefully dragged into The Burrow. A masked Death Eater had his hand wrapped in her hair, and her eyes were frantic, searching for Harry, her brother, or Hermione, but she couldn’t see them in the panic of the crowd. Fred was running toward her, screaming to get off his sister, but the Death Eater laughed and hit him with a jinx.
Another shot and a Patronus appeared in her living room. It was Bill's; he said he had Harry, Ron, and Hermione, but they needed to get out; Death Eaters were coming. She looked toward her mum and screamed ‘NO!’, and her dad grabbed her hand, and they twisted into apparition.
Then, like she was falling from heaven, she landed. She was standing over Fred’s dead body in the Great Hall, tears streaming down her face. She saw a flash of black hair move away from the entrance hall, away from her. She stood staring at the spot Harry should have been beside her, each time she had fought, each time she had waited, and each time he had gone.
She felt a strong hand on her waist as her globe shattered all around her, and from the looks of the floor, so had Zabini’s.
He was behind her, holding her steady as she came back into the reality of the moment. The floor felt like it was shaking, and the shards of broken glass seemed to be gravitating toward each other, smoldering and glowing red-hot as they twisted on the ground.
“Whatever you saw, you’re stronger than all of it,” he whispered in the back of her ear
Ginny twisted in Blaise’s arms, looking directly up at him. His jaw was clenched, his hands steady on her waist. They burned. His heartbeat was almost her own; they were so entwined; she didn’t know where he ended and she began.
The room was filled with the crackling of the glass, and she didn’t know why, she didn’t know how, but her lips met his. With an intensity that burned almost as hot as the bursting glass on the floor, she was kissing him, wrapping her hand around the back of his neck and pulling him into her like a woman drowning, and he was air.
She heard the moan escape his lips, and she kissed deeper, she ached for more.
Her body sent electrical currents rippling through it.
She barely felt herself pull away from him. Her eyes were glossy, pixelated from the moment. She could just hear his breathing, tasting the lingering vanilla flavor on her lips.
She turned and looked down.
16 minutes and 37 seconds.
Chapter 9: Honeydukes
Chapter Text
- Blaise Zabini and Ginevra Weasley – 16 minutes and 37 seconds
- Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger – 19 minutes and 5 seconds
- Theodore Nott and Harry Potter – 20 minutes and 25 seconds
- Ernie MacMillan and Luna Lovegood – 23 minutes and 13 seconds
- Michael Corner and Mandy Brocklehurst – 27 minutes and 45 seconds
How the fuck did Blaise do it? Draco stood, biting into a green apple, letting the juice run down his lips. He savored the tartness that soaked in, a momentary distraction from the relenting wave of his thoughts.
They were going to Hogsmeade today, and he was waiting for Nott and Zabini. Pansy and Daphne were in the library, apparently buried in some brutal Transfiguration Essay due by Monday for McGonagall. All Draco could think about was how thankful he was not to have taken Transfiguration.
He was also thankful for the chance to get out of the castle, even if it was just to The Three Broomsticks. It was a welcomed escape; the castle was a type of prison and he couldn’t even read in the Common Room anymore. What had started as a fun game he played with Granger, enjoying her snarky comments, the embarrassed flush in her cheeks, and her little silk nighties. It had ended with Draco beginning to resent every time she left the Weasels’ room.
He noticed it the first time she walked out wearing his Quidditch jersey, Weasley's name sewn on the front as if he had claimed her; as if she was his property.
Draco struggled with the feelings Granger was stirring within him, hating her for it. The way she felt under him, the way she melted into him as he pushed her against that wall on the night of the hunt.
Her eyes egged him on, but that was a deluded thought. It had to be in his head.
He hated what he saw in his memories, and he knew, without really understanding why, that Granger had seen every vision he had.
"Admiring my work?" Zabini chortled as he walked up behind Draco.
"How the fuck did you do that?" Draco asked, utterly astonished. The last time he saw Zabini and Weaslette together, she had just hurled a Bludger at his face.
"Don't you remember the first time Zabini saw tits?" Theo's voice sprang up as he joined his two friends in the entrance hall.
"Fucckkk, how could I have forgotten?" Draco felt like a complete moron. The first time the Slytherin boys walked past that portrait, they all stared to the point where the surrounding portraits chastised them and even went so far as to threaten to tell Snape. Yet Zabini always lingered, up until the fourth year when he began to feel up Tracey Davis on the couches in the dungeon common room—an image Draco did try to forget.
“Having a late blooming seemed to have paid off," Blaise remarked.
He hadn't been with a girl until last year. Fooling around with Tracey for years, when she finally slept with him, it seemed to awaken something lying dormant in Blaise. He became a bit of a slag, with more girls than Draco could count. They had slummed it in Muggle London a few times over the summer. Something about the war, the threat of imprisonment, and death brought out lustful demons in all of them.
They kept their conversation light as they walked down to Hogsmeade, acutely aware of the keen ears that always seemed to surround them as if they were plotting to destroy the wizarding world or resurrect Voldemort.
Entering the Three Broomsticks slightly after 3:00 PM, Draco vowed to get properly wasted. He wanted to bury the memory of Hermione pressed against the wall, her black silk slip, her perky nipples, how she smelled, and how annoyingly right she always was in class.
He wanted to drink away any thought of Hermione Granger that still lingered in his remaining brain cells.
"Three fire whiskeys?" Theo asked as he stood to walk over to the bar, to which Draco and Blaise nodded.
"So, the Weaslette just let you take her to the portrait without any issues? I see that as highly unlikely unless you Imperio’d her," Draco shrugged.
"It took some convincing. Ginevra isn’t the most trusting of people, especially after I tried to use a secret to win a Quidditch match, but once we were there, she came around,” Blaise’s jaw twitched, and Draco picked up on it, he was always good at reading faces, subtle cues, although he may have been a miss with Grangers,
“What happened?” He pressed, knowing something did. Theo levitated three glasses onto the table and slammed his body into the booth haphazardly like Theo always did.
“We saw the memories, didn’t you?” Blaise looked back at Draco intently, Draco was searching for something, and something was there hidden, something Blaise wasn’t admitting, Draco picked up his drink and took the first sip.
It burned.
Fuck, it tasted good.
“I didn’t,” Theo announced with a swig of his drink.
“What do you mean? We all had to pick up those Remembralls,” Draco questioned.
“We’re friends, right?” Theo said, moving closer to them.
“Unfortunately,” Draco rolled his eyes.
“Potter and I smashed ours, we never picked them up, just smashed them,”
“What the hell, why?” Zabini nearly coughed his drink out.
“I slipped MacMillian some Veritaserum, the night of the Quidditch party. I was trying to get some information out of those who had already gone on the hunt, and I figured MacMillian would be the easiest to let it slip. He’s always been pompous. He told me the Remembralls dredge up memories, the ones that you want to keep buried, and once they’re smashed, it stops the clock. I Obliviated him and convinced Potter not to touch them when we got to the chamber,” Theo sat back, smirking and taking a long drink.
"Be sure to give my best to my father in Azkaban; you might get lucky and be cellmates," Draco retorted with a sardonic grin.
Theo was always reckless, always pushing the rules, but why not just play the game? It wasn’t that hard. Did he really want to win that badly?
"Don't worry, Draco. I'm confident in my ability to obliviate effectively.. Do you honestly think I wanted to be in a room filled with memories of Voldemort and my father killing my mother? I couldn't risk Potter seeing what I saw. And believe me, I wouldn't want to endure what Potter has been through in any version of my own personal hell either," Theo exclaimed, visibly withdrawing.
Draco leaned back in his seat, surprised by Theo's candid mention of his mother. While everyone knew about the incident, the Ministry had swept it under the rug. They never spoke of it.
“Never tell Prince Potter, his pride would never let him keep that a secret, I don’t know how you convinced him not to finish the task,” Zabini interjected as Draco sat back, another sip.
Fuck he loved that burn.
“I just asked him to trust me, and he did. Honestly, I think he was relieved. What’s one more repressed thought going to do to him, certainly not kill him.”
"Are you ever going to tell us what happened with Granger?" Blaise prodded.
"No," Draco replied, taking another sip.
"No?"
"It's because Draco is repressing his own thoughts, filthy ones that involve our Golden Girl riding his dragon," Theo blurted out.
"What? Why would you say that?" Draco choked on his drink.
What in the fuck was Theo thinking? Sure, maybe he had entertained a few inappropriate thoughts about her—imagining her naked, kissing her, or even picturing her writhing in pleasure underneath him—but that didn't mean anything. It certainly didn't mean he enjoyed being around her.
"You think we haven't noticed the way you watch her, the way you always find an excuse to talk to her? And I doubt that's all guilt from her almost dying on your floor," Theo remarked with a knowing look.
"Watch it," Draco snapped, Theo, treading dangerously close to earning himself a tooth-decaying hex.
Zabini remained unusually quiet, Draco observed. Normally, Blaise would seize this opportunity to add his own devilish commentary about Granger’s assets, but he stayed silent, leaving Theo to grin to himself, seemingly convinced he was the most clever man alive.
"Honestly, I think it's nice how welcoming Granger has been. The Weasel is a whole other story, but since the first party in the Common Room, things have been quite tolerable. People no longer jump when they see me. I still get a grimace here and there, and I probably wouldn't walk to a class alone for fear of being hexed by some fourth-year with a grudge. But I had expected we would have to spend all our time hiding out," Theo admitted.
"Good to know someone's enjoying it. I can't decide if Hogwarts is more tolerable than the Manor; they both feel like crypts, one just happens to have you idiots in it, which I guess is alright," Draco smirked.
"Ah, Draco's getting pissed, he's only nice to us when he's drunk," Zabini remarked, clinking his glass.
"I'm not even close to being drunk yet, Zabini, but I will be before tonight is over," Draco winked back at Zabini downing his third whiskey.
Theo's favorite drinking game was Exploding Snap; he could turn anything into a drinking game, but Exploding Snap held a special place in his heart. Tonight, Zabini and Draco were in the mood to get plastered, so they entertained him.
It felt like no time had passed before Draco could feel the burn of the whiskey coursing through his veins. The doorbell ringing over the Three Broomsticks usually wouldn't grab Draco's attention, but the voices that followed did.
When he looked up, he watched as Potter, Weasley, Hermione, and Ginny walked through the door, laughing and sitting down in a booth across the pub hall. He heard Granger's laugh first, of fucking course. Just when the liquor had him in that sweet spot of removing her from his thoughts, she walked in. It was as if he could smell lilacs from across the room.
"Oi, 'Mione, what do you want again?" Ron's voice boomed across the room as he and Potter made their way to the bar to order.
"Fucking moron, doesn't even know what his girlfriend likes to drink," Draco muttered under his breath, his gaze fixed on Weasley.
"Butterbeer is fine for now, thank you!" Hermione's voice rang out in response, but Draco's eyes never left the Weasels.
"If looks could kill," Theo snorted, earning a sharp glance from Draco.
"How can you not know what your girlfriend would drink? I feel bad for Pansy; I bet their time will come in around 40 minutes," Draco scoffed.
"I'll take that bet, 10 galleons on 37 minutes," Theo chimed in.
"10 on 45," Zabini upped the ante.
Draco's mind felt like it was racing as he observed their cozy little foursome. He couldn't help but notice Hermione glancing over from time to time. Each time their eyes met, she quickly looked away.
Why was she staring at him? No doubt she caught him staring at her.
He kept drinking, and he noticed Blaise's eyes wandering almost as much as his.
Barely an hour after their arrival, the Weasel and Potter seemed to vanish. Draco watched as they grabbed their coats. He watched even more intently as Ron leaned in and pecked Hermione on the cheek, eliciting a small smile from her. "What passion," Draco mused internally.
Zabini cleared his throat and checked the time. Hogwarts had a strict curfew; all students had to be back in the castle by 8:00 PM, and it was edging toward 7:00.
They still had time, Draco noted.
"I have an idea, and I'd like you both to go along with it because this is about me," Zabini began.
"When isn't it about you?" Theo chuckled.
"Excuse me? Gwen? Do you have champagne?" Blaise interrupted, flagging down the skinny blonde waitress as she walked by, about to serve the table beside them.
"I believe we have a few vintages in the back. Might be a bit dusty," the girl replied with a kind smile.
"That's fine. Could you please send a bottle with five glasses over to that table by the window?" Blaise requested, pointing directly at Ginny and Hermione's table, where the two girls sat speaking quietly to each other.
"What the fuck are you doing?" Draco growled.
"Oh, I love this," Theo grinned.
"We're going to celebrate my win," Zabini declared, sitting back and watching as the serving girl began to pile the champagne bottle in a charmed-to-stay-cold bucket, adding five coupes.
Just as Gwen was making her way over, Blaise stood up, stretched his legs, and turned back.
"Come on," Zabini urged, ignoring Draco's intense stare. Blaise didn't back down, and before Draco knew it, Theo had his arm and was hauling him upright.
Feeling a bit light-headed, Draco's legs weren't used to standing, especially under the influence of liquor. Yet, he couldn't deny he liked it—the heavy beating in his chest as they strolled toward the girl's booth.
"Zabini, what the hell is this?" The Weaslette rounded on them as Draco stood at the edge of their table, Hermione's eyes darting between the bottle Gwen had set down and Draco.
"We're celebrating our win, Ginevra," Blaise answered confidently, sliding into the booth beside her.
Theo shoved Draco into the seat next to Hermione, who gave him a cautious smile in return. They hadn't talked much outside of class since their task.
"We haven't won yet. Ron and Parkinson still have to go," Ginny countered.
"Please, Weaslette, even you must know your brother isn't going to beat your time," Draco interjected quickly, noticing a shy, reluctant smile crossing her lips
Zabini poured champagne into all five coupes, and Hermione smiled. Draco noticed the flush in her cheeks, the gloss in her eyes—she was giggly. She was a little drunk.
"Cheers to the first task and mine and Ginevra's accomplishment," Zabini proposed.
"Cheers to Zabini being a pervert. Who would have known it was going to pay off?" Theo added.
Draco noticed Ginny flush at that comment as she downed her entire glass of champagne in one shot.
"It's not a shooter, Weasley," Theo laughed.
"I know... but I needed that... it's good," Ginny replied quickly.
"It is good, thank you," Hermione chimed in, her cheeks flushing.
"Didn't take you for a champagne girl, Granger," Draco quipped, looking at her.
His heart rate felt like it was increasing, and he was getting those thoughts again the kind he had been repressing.
"What kind of girl do you take me for, Malfoy?" Hermione retorted, her eyes met his and glittered in the dim light of the pub.
"Mead, something sweet, especially after you gave me that awful muggle drink... what was it, Bull Red?"
"You gave him some of your Bull Red?" Ginny said, looking aghast.
"What's Bull Red, some weird sex thing?" Theo joked.
"No, it's not some sex thing... it's a muggle energy drink and it’s called Red Bull. And if I do remember correctly, I gave you a sip and then you stole the whole thing," Hermione replied with a grin, taking another long sip of champagne. Blaise was already refilling Ginny's glass, watching her intently.
"I can't believe you gave him some. You've never even given me any," Ginny said, looking shocked, and Draco felt a weird sense of pride. Hermione looked flustered, and he liked that.
"Oh, really?" Draco whispered, leaning closer to her ear. He watched goose prickles erupt all over her skin, it sent a shockwave directly into his groin.
He knew this was a dangerous game he was playing.
"It's 7:45. Should we think of heading to the castle after this one?" Zabini asked the table.
"8:00 PM is such a shit curfew. I want to get properly drunk tonight. What do you ladies say?" Theo added.
"Nott... you two especially shouldn't be past curfew," Zabini replied through gritted teeth looking between Nott and Draco.
"Are you worried about getting past Filch? Because I know a way we can stay longer and get back into the castle without anyone noticing," Hermione said in a shy but confident voice. Draco was intrigued.
She suggested it; she wanted to stay. She wanted them to stay with her and the Weaslette. Even Blaise seemed to be open to the idea now.
"Hermione..." Ginny said in a low, sinister tone of agreement.
"Tell me more, Granger," Theo moved in closer, his head in his palms.
"We'll stay longer, and I promise, I'll get us all into the castle tonight without detection, alright?" Hermione said with a cheeky grin.
Draco couldn't help but notice how much he loved that grin.
No, he didn't love it.
Fuck.
He took another long drink, trying to push away the conflicting thoughts swirling in his drunken mind.
"I'll make this a better deal. You get us back into the castle tonight without detection, and we'll keep buying the drinks." Theo finished.
"Deal," Ginny winked back, finishing another glass. Draco glanced over, and Hermione's glass was already empty.
"I'll get the next one then," Draco said quickly, waving toward Gwen and gesturing for another bottle.
Draco was surprised by how smoothly the conversation flowed between them all. Hermione and Ginny's guards were down, almost as if they were comfortable with one another. He didn't know how he got here after last week, after the mess in the Chamber. But as Ginny, Zabini, and Theo engaged in a heated argument over Quidditch, Hermione leaned closely to Draco's ear. Her lips were so close, her body warm, and he caught her intoxicating scent.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
"You have nothing to be sorry for," Draco replied, feeling a pang of guilt that she was apologizing.
He had seen what she had seen in those memories; she shouldn't be sorry for anything. He had overreacted, had thrown her against the wall. Acted like a total fucking moron.
"I do. I shouldn't have made that comparison. I don't know why I did it," Hermione confessed.
"It's fine, Granger. I shouldn't have overreacted. After what... after what I saw, after what I did... I can't believe you even still talk to me," Draco admitted, his voice filled with self-loathing. The sober part of him was horrified that he would ever admit that to her.
"I saw it from my point of view. You didn't have a choice, Malfoy. I'll never hold that against you," Hermione assured him.
Draco just took another long drink and inhaled deeply.
The way she looked on his floor... He had been taught to hate her his whole life, taught to think of her as less. But when Bellatrix was standing over her, he felt such a sickness rising within him. He moved forward, instinctively, though his father reacted faster.
He felt disgusted—disgusted with himself and with his family. Granger was a swot, yes, she had been his whole life, but watching her be tortured changed him. He would never live another day without remembering her screams, without remembering he did nothing.
He didn't deserve her kindness now, her friendship, or whatever the hell it was she was giving him. But he was thankful for it. Talking to her, working with her—this partnership was the one sad thing in his life he actually enjoyed, regardless of how much he rejected it, pushed it from his mind. Sitting here beside her like this, was the best moment of his week, and it tore him apart to finally acknowledge it.
"You've stopped reading in the Common Room in the mornings," Hermione stated, her tone matter-of-fact.
"I thought you didn't like my comments on your nightwear," Draco replied, trying to keep his tone light.
"I don't," she smiled.
"Any new nighties?" Draco felt himself burning, knowing it was flirty.
"A few," she smirked. Draco couldn't help but wonder if that was a flirt back.
No, she was just being nice.
Snap out of it, Malfoy.
“I like the black one,” Draco blurted out, cursing himself for being such an ass. The champagne mixed with Firewhiskey only fueled his arrogance.
“You'd be sorely disappointed. Now that it's colder in the castle, I'm back in fleece,” Hermione replied, her tone carrying a hint of flirtation in her own Granger way.
This was flirting.
“As long as it's not the Weasel’s Quidditch jersey,” Draco sneered, the memory of her wearing his jersey still burning a hole in his mind.
She laughed, glancing back at him. He smirked and took another drink.
"Draco isn't funny, Granger, so I know you're pissed," Theo finally interjected.
Zabini was close to Ginny, and she looked comfortable with his closeness. She hadn't pushed him away, which was weird. Draco had thought Blaise had been acting strangely all night, and now his suspicion deepened.
Something happened during that Hunt, and he would find out.
"Weasley, how did it feel losing your virginity to the Chosen One?" Nott prodded, clearly sensing the same thing Draco did.
"Nott," Draco warned at the inappropriate question
"I didn't," Ginny replied casually, as if the question didn’t bother her.
Draco turned, shocked, only to see that Nott and Zabini's faces looked the same.
"It's not kind to lie," Nott reminded her.
"She's not lying," Hermione chimed in, her voice almost singsong.
"Weasley... who?!" Theo practically begged while Hermione giggled.
"Dean, obviously. We dated all fifth year, until Harry, I guess..."
"Does Potter know?!" Theo exclaimed.
"Yes," Ginny laughed, and Blaise's face had a smug grin on it.
"I would never have guessed that," Theo lifted his glass and finished.
"That's not fair, you all know our firsts. What about yours?" Ginny asked, her tone devilish.
Fucking hell, Draco did not need to relive this tonight.
"So the Golden Girl did, in fact, lose hers to your brother then," Theo remarked.
"Eww, I don't want to hear it," Ginny protested.
Hermione gave a shy smile, and Draco agreed. He didn't want to hear it either.
"To be fair, the battle had just ended, and we didn't want to die virgins," Hermione explained.
"Please tell me, that you're not with the Weasel just because you didn't want to die a virgin?" Draco heard himself saying it, and he hoped it didn't sound as condescending as he had meant it to be.
Her face flushed, and she took another drink. "Of course not."
"I really don't want to hear about you shagging my brother," Ginny added, speaking for Draco as well.
"Zabini's was Tracey Davis, everyone knows about Malfoy and Parkinson, and mine was Greengrass," Theo continued pointing at each boy in turn, Draco gave him an annoyed eye roll.
"Keeping it in the Common Room I see," Ginny commented.
"Honestly, I always thought that Granger here was having both Potter and Weasley," Theo added, eliciting incredulous looks from both Ginny and Hermione. Draco couldn't help but laugh.
"I'd never. They're like my brothers," Hermione shot back, her voice firm.
"They? Your boyfriend too?" Draco couldn't help but pounce without a second thought, his heart pounding as he stared back at her, grinning as if he had won some imaginary victory.
"No... I didn't mean they... I meant Harry..." Hermione spluttered, and Draco felt almost bad about the satisfaction he felt at her words.
She saw Hermione look over to Ginny, her face flushing even more, and Ginny gave her a grimace.
"Speaking of Potter and Weasley, where are they?" Blaise asked, looking directly at Ginny.
"They had a Transfiguration essay to finish. Ron was sour that I didn't want to come help him. I don't even take Transfiguration," Hermione slurred, her eyes glossy.
"Won't they be wondering where you are? It's nearly midnight," Blaise pointed out.
"Is it? I'm surprised I haven't gotten a Howler by now," Hermione laughed, spilling a little of her drink on the table. Draco watched, noting that she might be a little too drunk.
"Harry will probably assume I went directly to Gryffindor Tower," Ginny added casually.
"Honestly, by the looks of Granger, we should probably get back before she's too drunk to remember the way, or we might have to get a room upstairs," Theo joked.
"That wouldn't be the worst idea," Blaise said in a whisper towards Ginny, and Draco watched as she tried to elbow him in the stomach, thinking nobody was watching. It was fucking weird.
"I'll get us back, but you're right, we should probably leave now," Hermione suggested, her eyes glossed over and her speech still slurred.
Draco quickly paid the tab, and they all began to get out of the booth. Granger got up behind him, looking dizzy; her legs wobbled, and she grasped the side of the table. Draco reached out and steadied her, relishing the fantastic feeling of her touch on his arm. She gave him a small smile.
"Where to, Granger?" Theo asked once they were on the street. Hogsmeade was asleep, and they were the only ones walking down the road.
"Honeydukes," she smiled widely, her steps wobbly.
"Honeydukes?" Draco questioned as they rounded the corner to where the sweet shop stood.
"It's closed," Theo confirmed.
"I can Apparate us in," Hermione suggested, but by the looks of her, it was an awful plan.
"You'll get us all splinched," Ginny objected.
"Give me a damn minute," Draco pushed past them, his wand fixed at the door. He cast three unlocking spells and dismantled two of the wards the shopkeeper had set up. Even in his drunken state, the locks were basic; he had seen worse.
"Come on, and be quiet," Hermione pushed past him sloppily and went through the door.
Their footsteps echoed softly in the dimly lit shop, the air heavy with the tantalizing scent of candies and chocolates. The faint glow of the moon filtered through the windows, casting light over the shelves lined with sugary delights.
His eyes fell upon a jar filled to the brim with licorice whips. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he reached out to grab a handful. Why not? He always loved sweets.
"Malfoy! That's stealing!" Granger rounded on him; even drunk, Granger was still righteous.
"Fine," Draco dug in his pockets and pulled out a Galleon, intending to place it by the jar.
"You can't leave it; they'll know we were here," she objected.
"Bloody hell, Granger, do you want me to steal the candy or not?" Draco retorted, holding the licorice whip between his teeth.
With an exasperated roll of her eyes, she beckoned them toward a nondescript back room behind the counter.
Leading the way, she descended a set of small wooden steps until they reached the bottom.
There, she moved aside a crate to reveal a hidden trap door, which she promptly opened to a narrow tunnel stretching out before them.
Draco exchanged a glance with Theo and Zabini, but Hermione and Weasley were already making their way down the steps, their figures disappearing into the darkness below.
"No other choice, mate," Zabini remarked, slapping Draco's shoulder before following suit and descending into the depths of the tunnel.
With a resigned sigh, Draco followed after them.
As they walked down the tunnel; it was dark and claustrophobic, and Hermione's Lumos spell was dancing all over the place. Her legs weren't taking straight steps anymore, and her breathing was slightly ragged.
"Hermione, are you alright?" Ginny came up behind her friend.
"I think I'm going to be sick," Hermione fell to the ground.
"Granger!" Draco pushed toward her, regretting letting her drink so much.
Fuck, and fucking Theo and Blaise. She couldn't keep up with them. He was even surprised the Weaslette was still standing.
Before Draco could even reach her, she was wretching on the dirt floor of the tunnel.
“Fucking hell," he muttered, running his hand through his hair.
"Evanseco," Zabini grimaced with a flick of his wrist.
"I'm going to stay here tonight. It's cold, and I like the cold," Hermione murmured weakly, curling up into a small ball.
"No, Granger, you're not sleeping in this bloody tunnel," Draco said through gritted teeth.
"Theo, come here," Draco continued as Theo hurried up beside him, lifting Hermione to her feet. Nott cast a levitating charm, and Draco slung her over his shoulder, keeping her head from bumping into anything.
"No, I liked the cold," Hermione's voice was so weak, barely audible.
Theo cast a cooling charm around them, and Draco watched as Blaise and Ginny were whispering ahead in the tunnel.
"Let's get going. We need to get her to bed," Theo shouted, and Blaise grabbed Ginny's arm to steady her walk.
It felt like the tunnel dragged on forever as Draco carefully guided Hermione’s limp body down the dark passage. Ginny's movements were becoming more staggered, and Blaise held her arm, keeping her steady.
"Weasley, do you have any idea where this tunnel leads?" Draco asked.
"Nope," was all the response she gave.
"Fucking brilliant," Draco muttered toward Theo, who just beamed with a wide, chaotic smile.
As they finally reached the end of the tunnel, there was a small ladder that ran upwards. Blaise went first, hauling Ginny under his arms to help her up. Theo and Draco hung back, keeping Hermione steady.
"Where are we?" Draco whispered as the light from above shined down.
"Fifth floor, relatively close to the Common Rooms," he heard Blaise whisper back down.
"I'll go up. Levitate her to me, alright?" Draco asked Theo. He nodded and grabbed Hermione's dangling arm.
Draco reached the corridor the tunnel exited at, and Hermione levitated through the entrance. He caught her in his arms.
She still smelled like lilacs, but her clothes were covered in vomit, and weirdly, he didn’t seem to mind.
What was wrong with him?
"I'll walk Ginevra back to Gryffindor Tower," Blaise insisted.
“ I can get there myself, Zabini. Take care of Hermione, Malfoy," she added, slurring slightly. The Weaslette looked like she was moments away from being exactly where Hermione was. She spun toward the staircase, but Blaise followed behind her anyway.
Draco didn’t have time to dissect whatever the fuck was going on there right now.
Theo slung one of Hermione’s arms around his shoulders, and Draco took the other.
"I hope to Merlin nobody catches us. This doesn’t look the greatest. The Golden Girl half-consciously slung around two Death Eaters' arms," Theo chuckled.
"Stop talking, and we won’t get caught," Draco warned.
"Ron... Harry..." Hermione whispered.
"THEOO-DORE," Theo corrected her, enunciating his name, then adding “DRA-CO”
“It’s not the time Theo,”
"Maybe she wants us to take her to Potter or Weasley," Theo speculated.
"If I knock on the Weasel’s door with Granger like this, I’m going to have to fight him... and no offense, I’d rather Zabini have my back than you," Draco added.
There was absolutely no way he could knock on Weasley's door with a vomit-covered Granger slung in his arms at 1:00 AM unless he wanted a full-blown duel in the Common Room.
They got into the Common Room undetected, carrying her toward her upstairs dormitory. She still lay slumped, barely audible.
"Granger, can you take down your wards?
Draco grabbed her hand and her wand, trying to get her to respond to the motion.
She just moaned and murmured something he couldn’t make out.
Fuck.
Draco felt a surge of frustration as Hermione gave no response, and he and Theo both struggled to get past her wards, both taking turns. They were surprisingly strong, and Draco couldn't help but be impressed.
How in the hell were hers stronger than those at Honeydukes?
"Well, I tried, goodnight, Draco," Theo said as he walked away toward his dorm, leaving Draco alone clutching Hermione.
"Theo, what the fuck am I supposed to do with her?" Draco said scathingly.
"Seems like you only have two choices... wake the Weasel or Potter, or just let her pass out in your room" Theo suggested casually.
Chapter 10: His Room
Chapter Text
Hermione's eyes were assaulted by the glowing light of the sun, its warm orange hues washing over her face. Her stomach churned with knots, and her head throbbed painfully.
With a groan, she reached out to feel her sheets, only to find that they felt different, smoother, silkier than her own. Confusion was set in her mind as she struggled to make sense of her surroundings.
Opening her eyes, she scanned the room. The wallpaper was a deep emerald, the woodwork a rich dark oak, and the bedding a combination of black, silver, and green.
Panic surged within her as she realized that this wasn't her room, this wasn't her bed.
"Morning, Granger," a drawl echoed through the room, causing her to turn over, her eyes still half-open.
There, lounging on the chaise beside the bed, was Draco Malfoy, stretching his long arms out with a small blanket and pillow thrown over him.
"Malfoy, where the fuck am I?" she moaned, her head pounding with each word.
"My room," he replied nonchalantly, sitting up.
He was shirtless, wearing soft-looking grey sweatpants. The way the light hit him accentuated his lean, muscular frame. Hermione couldn't help but notice the deep scars crisscrossing his chest, her eyes lingering for a moment before she looked away.
"What happened?" she asked, trying to piece together the events of the previous night.
"You were wasted," Draco explained, his tone matter-of-fact. "Threw up in that tunnel you dragged us through, then tried to pass out on the ground. Theo and I carried you back to your room, but your wards were too strong. I decided it was best not to hand you over to Weasley in the state you were in, so here you are."
Hermione sat up on the bed, taking in her surroundings. A small pile of her clothes lay bunched up on the floor by Draco's desk chair, and she realized she was wearing a large jersey — his jersey. It was green, silver, and black, with a serpent on it and "Malfoy" emblazoned across the chest. She felt a flush of embarrassment at the sight.
"Sorry, I didn’t have any little nighties, and I know how much you like sleeping in Quidditch jerseys," Draco said casually as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Hermione shot him a defiant glance in response.
"What happened to my clothes?" she asked, trying to divert her thoughts from the awkwardness of the situation.
"You puked all over them," Draco replied bluntly. "Even the best Scourgify didn't get it out. Don't worry, Granger, nothing happened, but I wasn't going to let you sleep in my bed covered in vomit."
Hermione's cheeks burned with embarrassment. The last person she wanted to be indebted to for such a humiliating situation was Draco Malfoy. She couldn't believe she had made such a spectacle of herself.
His words — "Don't worry, Granger, nothing happened" — echoed in her mind. What did he mean by that? Why would Draco Malfoy even consider the possibility of something happening between them? He had always viewed her less than him, dismissing her as a know-it-all. The idea that he might have any other opinion of her was laughable.
"Thank you, Malfoy," Hermione finally said in a huff as she moved toward the edge of his bed.
"Unfortunate for you, I don’t have any hangover potion left. I’m brewing some more, but it won’t be ready for another three days," he said as he got up from the chaise, walking toward his drawer and pulling out a clean white shirt to put on.
"Don’t worry, I deserve this hell," Hermione groaned, and she heard him give a genuine laugh.
"How are you not more hungover?" she continued.
"Must be used to it by now. I'm sorry to say but the only other one in your state might be the Weaselette," he replied with a hint of amusement in his voice.
"Oh no, Gin, she got back alright,” Hermione asked
"I think so. Blaise offered to walk her back to Gryffindor Tower," Draco added, his tone shifting uncomfortably.
"Good, good," Hermione just shook her head, trying to stop the pounding. She looked down at the time, and it was blinking at 9:03 AM.
"Fuck," she jumped, realizing the predicament she was in.
How in the hell was she going to get out of here without being seen? Without people noticing her leave his room in either puke-covered clothes or, even worse, his clothes.
"What?" Draco quipped as he watched her.
"It’s 9, the Common Room must be full of people. I can’t walk out of here like this. What if Ron sees me?" she fretted.
"What if the Weasel sees you? I told you, Granger, nothing happened," he reminded her.
She felt her cheeks flush again, embarrassed. Of course, he thought it absurd she was worried about what Ron would think.
"It’s not that. I just think, regardless, this is difficult to explain. Look at me," she said, pointing to the words 'Malfoy' across her chest. He smiled a smug smile, something behind those eyes like he was soaking up some moment of satisfaction.
"I’ll go and check to see if the coast is clear, alright?" he finally pushed from the dresser and moved toward the door.
Draco moved toward his door, and Hermione pulled the covers back over her head as he opened it. She didn’t come back out until she heard the door click.
“You’re good, it’s just Parkinson and Greengrass out there,” Draco reassured her.
“Just Parkinson and Greengrass? Are you joking? They are the last people I want to see looking like this, besides you,” Hermione muttered.
“Calm down, I’ll talk to them,” Draco offered.
Hermione huffed. The longer she stayed in here, the more likely someone would wonder where she was. She could cast a Disillusionment Charm, but the way the light hit the Common Room, it wouldn’t have been as effective. She wished for Harry’s cloak.
She got up and grabbed her clothes that had been balled up on the floor, tucking them into her arms.
“I’ll bring this back,” she said, looking at him and grabbing the jersey she was wearing.
“Wash it first,” he sneered back.
She rolled her eyes and swung open the door, Pansy and Daphne both looked back, probably expecting Draco, but instead saw Hermione: hair a mess, mascara under her eyes, clutching a ball of clothing wearing Draco’s Quidditch jersey. She understood she was a sight; both girls' jaws dropped, and she grimaced.
“Parkinson, Greengrass, never a word of this, got it?” Draco snapped in a tone that even made Hermione squirm as she ran up the staircase toward her room, slamming the door shut.
The nightmare was over.
Hermione stood underneath the hot water, she let the shower's warmth envelop her, scrubbing away the remnants of everything she had on her from the night before vomit, sweat, dirt. Finally, she threw her hair into a messy bun and donned her robes before heading down to the Great Hall for lunch. She had long passed breakfast, and she knew she’d have to show her face before Ron and Harry got worried.
As she entered the Great Hall, Hermione still felt queasy, but at least her headache had almost subsided. She spotted Ginny sitting alone at the Gryffindor table, looking just as Hermione felt—picking at her plate. The aroma of lunch was not sitting well, and Hermione desperately needed water or pumpkin juice.
“You’re still alive?” Ginny looked up as Hermione sat beside her, a small smile on her lips.
“Barely…” Hermione grabbed the jug of water and poured it into her glass.
“I’m never drinking with the snakes again,” Ginny said, rubbing her temples.
“Oi, where the bloody hell have you two been?” Ron’s voice echoed down the hall, Harry trailing slightly behind, Ron looking flustered.
“Indoor voice, Ron,” Ginny pushed.
“What happened?” Harry said, sitting down beside Ginny.
“We overindulged,” Hermione's face went red as she looked over at Ron.
“Overindulged? We didn’t see you come back,” Ron questioned.
Just as Ron and Harry sat down, Hermione saw them: Malfoy, Zabini, and Nott, all walking casually into the Great Hall. She looked up, and Theo met her gaze, giving her a wide toothy smile. As they walked past, Draco’s signature scent filled her lungs, and she didn’t exhale.
“How are we feeling, ladies?” Nott casually drawled tapping his fingers on the long table as the three Slytherins walked past, Draco dropping his head and nodding at her.
“What was that about?” Ron looked aghast.
“After you two left, Zabini, Malfoy, and Nott joined our table. Zabini brought over a bottle of champagne to celebrate our win,” Ginny explained, her cheeks flushed.
“What? You drank with them?!” Harry pressed, surprised.
“Your win? You haven’t even won yet, Parkinson and I go tonight,” Ron said, shoveling a sandwich into his mouth.
Ginny shrugged, and Ron swallowed.
“If it was only one bottle, why are you so hungover? Also, I can’t believe you’d ever touch anything those three snakes bought,” Ron remarked.
"Hermione and I were already a little tipsy, and then Malfoy bought another bottle. Then Nott bought another bottle, and then Granger suggested to break into Honeydukes and use that tunnel to get into the castle after curfew," Ginny explained rapidly, word-vomiting her account of the night.
“Hermione, what the fuck. Why?” Ron’s words began to rise, and Hermione could see the anger bubbling in him. She needed Ginny to stop talking.
Ginny quickly interjected, trying to defuse the tension. "Ron, calm down. It's not like they forced us to drink. We made the choice, and it was fun until it wasn't."
"What do you mean fun until it wasn't?" Ron roared again. Ginny looked at Hermione, panicked, and Hermione just nodded, letting her know to rip off the Band-Aid.
"To be fair, Hermione was wasted. She puked in the tunnel on the way back to the castle, and Malfoy and Nott had to carry her the rest of the way," Ginny confessed.
Ron almost spit out his food, his eyes wide looking between Hermione and Ginny.
"Those fucking bastards got you two pissed as some big joke," Ron exclaimed angrily.
“That’s a wild assumption!” Hermione felt her annoyance rise.
"Hermione, I agree with Ron," Harry added, his expression tense.
"They didn’t force us to drink anything!" Ginny interjected.
Ron stood up abruptly, followed closely by Harry. "I’m going over there," Ron declared, his anger evident in his voice. Harry quickly followed suit, and Ginny and Hermione exchanged panicked looks before rushing after them.
Ron slammed his fists down on the Slytherin house table where Blaise, Draco, and Theo sat, their faces turning serious as they stared back at him and Harry.
"Do you think it’s funny to get my girlfriend and my sister so drunk that they wretch?" Ron demanded, his voice filled with anger.
Hermione pushed past him, noticing Draco's eyes turning to steel as he moved between Rons and hers. Theo's smirk was still there, but Blaise's expression was dark.
"Ronald, you’re making a scene," Hermione said firmly. "I told you I was already drunk before they joined us."
"I doubt that, 'Mione," Ron countered.
"You both don’t think we can handle ourselves, or god forbid we get drunk and have fun without you?!" Ginny interjected, stepping between her brother and her boyfriend.
"I know you can handle yourself, Gin, but it’s unlike you," Harry added, his gaze shifting towards Ginny. Hermione noticed Blaise's eyes darken even further.
"You heard your girlfriends... they wanted to stay," Draco sneered, his words clearly intended to provoke Ron and Harry.
The tension surrounding the table was palpable as Pansy sat, her hands raised in a defensive gesture. "I swear I didn’t say anything," she insisted.
Ron turned his attention to Pansy. "What are you on about, Parkinson?"
Hermione felt the panic rising within her as she looked to Draco for support. His response was swift and commanding. "Shut it, Parkinson," he snapped.
But Ron wasn't deterred. "No! What do you mean?!" he pressed, his voice rising.
Hermione knew she needed to act quickly to diffuse the situation. "I slept in Malfoy’s room last night," she confessed, her heart racing. "I threw up all over myself in the tunnel, Theo and Malfoy tried to take me back to my room; but my wards were too strong, and he didn’t think it was a good idea to wake you, so I slept there."
Draco's smirk widened at her words, and he locked eyes with Ron, his expression challenging.
"What the fuck, Hermione?! You slept in his room? His room," Ron spluttered, his face turning a deep shade of red.
"Oh no," Harry muttered under his breath, realizing the implications of Hermione's revelation.
Ron lunged at Draco; his anger barely restrained by Harry's grip. Theo and Blaise rose to their feet, ready to intervene, if necessary, but Draco simply laughed and stepped back, his demeanor infuriatingly calm.
"Don’t worry, Weasley. I was a gentleman and took the chaise, although I do think she looks better in my Quidditch jersey than yours," Draco taunted
Ron's face contorted with rage, and Hermione's heart sank as she watched him wrench his arm away from her and storm out of the Great Hall without another word.
"Ronald!" she shouted after him, but he didn't look back.
Turning back to Draco, Hermione found his demeanor had changed entirely. The smile was gone from his lips, replaced by a cold gaze that sent a stab through her system. Their eyes locked for a moment, and Hermione felt a wave of unease wash over her.
Why the fuck did he just say that?
Ron was the definition of frustration and anger as he sat back watching Pansy look dully around the Astronomy Tower.
He couldn't shake off the image of Hermione laughing and drinking with Malfoy and his cronies. It infuriated him to think that she would willingly spend time with someone like Malfoy, especially after everything they had been through.
The memories of Hermione being tortured in Malfoy Manor still haunted him, and the thought of her associating with Slytherins made his blood boil.
But what angered him even more was his own sense of powerlessness. He felt like he should have been able to protect Hermione, to shield her from any harm. Yet here she was, willingly putting herself in risky situations, and he couldn't do anything about it.
Ron's fists clenched at his sides as he tried to reign in his emotions. He wanted to confront Hermione, to demand answers from her about why she was getting involved with him. But deep down, he knew that his anger wasn't just directed at her— it was directed at Malfoy; he knew how to get under Ron’s skin and he used it, and loved to twist that knife.
Pansy's sharp tone cut through the stillness of the broken chair on which Ron slouched, the tower's breeze adding a chill to his already frayed nerves. "Well, are you going to help?" she snapped
"The birth of love and spiritual beauty. A force of life, revealing forgotten memories... It must be Venus, but I don't get it. If it's not the Astronomy Tower, then where?" Pansy pressed on
"I have no sweet clue, Parkinson,"
"Yeah, I've gathered that. Thank you so much," she spat back, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
Ron offered her a wry smile and a nod.
"You know you're unbearable when you're sulky," she remarked quickly.
"And you're always unbearable, Parkinson. I'm only here to save your ass, so stop bitching at me," Ron retorted, his patience a string.
"You know that nothing happened between Malfoy and Granger. He just said that to piss you off. If anything, you should be glad he didn't just dump her on one of the Common Room couches or left her in that tunnel, the Draco I know would have," Pansy added, attempting to reason with him.
"I don't understand his newfound obsession with her. You know Malfoy, what's he playing at?" Ron expressed.
"You know, it may come as a surprise to you, but I don't spend all day wondering about Hermione Granger or Draco Malfoy," Pansy retorted, rolling her eyes.
"Give me that paper," Ron huffed, and Pansy outstretched her arm to hand him the parchment.
As he reread it, he felt out of his element. Strategic planning, defensive spells, dueling—those were his forte. Riddles? Not so much. That was Hermione's territory.
"How in the hell did Ginny and Zabini get it that fast?" he muttered to himself, perplexed.
"Zabini... Ron, say it again," Pansy's voice was tinged with excitement.
"How in the hell did Ginny and Zabini get it that fast?" he questioned
"Blaise Zabini, you fucking pervert! Weasley, I got it!" Pansy exclaimed, jumping and grabbing his arm in excitement, prompting a small smile from him.
"Alright, alright, what is it?"
"The Birth of Venus! How could I have been so stupid? It's on the seventh floor. Zabini used to try and catch a glimpse of her tits in the fourth year, all the boys would try when her hair blew a certain way," Pansy explained animatedly.
Ron's body froze immediately at the mention of the seventh floor. Fred. Fred. He hadn't walked that corridor since that night.
"Is there another way down?" Ron's voice trembled as he asked, his heart racing.
"Come on, Weasley. If we take the stairs, we're practically there. Let's go!" Pansy urged, her tone determined.
"Parkinson, wait," Ron halted, swallowing hard as his heart rate slowed. Fred. Fred, his big brother, the jester who always lit up a room. George had been struggling for months, and Ron had no idea how to help with his grief. He hadn't even fully come to terms with his own loss. With everything that had happened that morning with Hermione, he didn't know if he had the emotional bandwidth to walk that corridor.
"My brother died there. I haven't been since," Ron confessed, his voice heavy.
Pansy's eyes softened, her cherry-red lips trembling slightly. Then, to Ron's surprise, she did something he never would have expected—she hugged him. Pansy Parkinson was hugging him.
"Weasley, if you don't want to go, I can finish this alone. But I think you were supposed to face this fear," Pansy said so softly that Ron didn't even recognize her voice at first. It soothed him.
"Come on," she pulled back, taking his hand in hers, giving him one last look of reassurance before descending the steps.
Ron took the last step off the Astronomy Tower, heading toward the seventh floor, it all came crashing back—the brutality of Greyback savaging Bill, the chaos of the explosion, Crabbe's attempt to curse Hermione with an 'Avada'. Malfoy and his Hand of Glory allowing the Death Eaters entry. His hatred for Malfoy burned even more fiercely. The memories overwhelmed him, his grip on Pansy's hand tightening as she guided him down the hall.
"I wish Harry hadn't gone back to save Malfoy or Goyle," Ron confessed bitterly, his voice barely audible over the rush of memories. But the recollection of Hermione dodging the flames, of how they had all turned back for them, how Harry had risked everything for them—each thought stoked the fire of resentment within him.
He heard his heartbeat, each pulse a painful reminder of Fred.
"We all have dark thoughts sometimes," Pansy whispered back, her voice a salve.
He couldn't understand her calm demeanour, how her presence somehow comforted him.
Pansy Parkinson, of all people, had been the one to make him confront this fear, not evade it. Ron realized that Pansy must have been battling her fears all year, returning to the castle, and seeking him out. She was braver than he had ever given her credit for.
"It's here," Pansy announced, turning to face Ron. They stood before a portrait, depicting a woman with flowing red hair, her beauty captivating.
Ron found himself drawn to her, mesmerized by her angelic features. For a moment, he was lost in her stare, the world around him fading away, until Pansy's mumbled words snapped him back to reality. With a soft click, the portrait swung open, breaking the enchantment.
"Lumos," Ron's wand illuminated, casting a soft light as he positioned himself in front of Pansy.
"Follow me. We don't know what we're up against yet," he instructed, peering down the corridor. The tunnel brought back memories of the Chamber of Secrets from years ago, a shiver running down his spine.
A green glow appeared ahead, drawing their attention to a slab of intricately carved Runes.
The Runes stumped him; he had never studied them. That was another area of Hermione's expertise. No wonder she and Malfoy had breezed through this part. He wasn't certain if Pansy had studied Runes either, but he doubted it. His mind raced, recalling Hermione pouring over the Spellman Syllabary, rereading The Tales of Beedle the Bard that Dumbledore had given her every night in the tent.
"I stopped taking Runes this year, but I can try these. I would have continued, but I was limited to seven classes," Pansy explained, her eyes fixed on the Runes.
"You're taking seven classes? I thought there were only three of you?" Ron asked, surprised.
"One of three," Pansy clarified, raising her hand to examine the Runes closely.
"My goal is to be a well-educated trophy wife," she smirked back at him, evidently noticing his incredulous expression.
"After you," Ron stepped aside, watching as she began to translate.
Ron stood at the end of the tunnel, his anger toward Hermione had nearly dissipated. His hatred for Malfoy remained, but if he could alter his perspective on Pansy during this task, perhaps it wasn't entirely implausible to consider that Hermione had done the same with Malfoy.
Comparing the two felt wrong—Parkinson hadn't committed nearly as many atrocious acts as Draco, but Hermione, possessed one of the purest hearts. She was fearless, strong, stubborn—traits she shared with him, traits he admired.
Pansy dismantled the Runes one by one, Ron couldn't shake the feeling of claustrophobia creeping in. He knew he'd have to face the corridor again, or if Pansy would allow him, he could take the long way around, toward the Pitch—the way Hermione always let him go without saying a word. He felt as though he had taken a step, experiencing the anger, grief, and vivid recollections, the ones he was repressing with sex and Quidditch and he wanted it to be enough for the night.
"Remember the darkness; it will show you the light," Pansy whispered, and with her words, the slab fell, a breeze passing by them.
In the center of the chamber hung two Remembralls. He gulped and looked at Pansy hesitantly.
"On three?" he asked, seeking confirmation, and she nodded.
"One... Two... Three!"
Ron's hand gripped the Remembrall tightly as he was pulled through time, being sucked like a vacuum into the past.
He landed with a jolt, back on the train, in his first year.
"Hand-me-down robes must be a Weasley," Draco's sneer echoed down at him.
Another swirl, another memory, another vision, crashed into him.
"Harry Potter!" Dumbledore's voice thundered as he extracted the parchment from the Goblet of Fire. Ron felt that familiar pang of jealousy and rage, watching Harry awkwardly rise to his feet.
Then came the final blow, the last cannon blast. It was Hermione, sobbing in his arms. Hagrid carried Harry's lifeless body, leaving Hermione as Ron's only anchor. He felt her heartbeat against his chest, transported back to the courtyard surrounded by Death Eaters, with Voldemort's chilling laughter ringing in his ears.
Suddenly, it all broke around him. When he opened his eyes, glass shards littered the floor, and Pansy lay on the ground, still clutching her Remembrall, screaming.
He dove instantly, tearing the Remembrall from her grasp and hurling it to the ground, the shattering sound reverberating through the room. He gathered Pansy into his arms as she collapsed against him, gasping for air, her eyes wide with terror.
"You're alright, you're alright," he pleaded, holding her tightly as she continued to shake, her fingernails digging into his forearms.
"Always the bloody hero, Weasley," she managed through sobs, a weak smirk playing on her lips, and he finally let out a breathy laugh.
"You got me through that corridor; least I could do is get you through this room," he added.
The sound of glass moving and scraping on the floor caught their attention as fire erupted around them, fierce and fast, then smoldering just as quickly as it had appeared.
34 minutes and 23 seconds
Chapter 11: Conflicting Emotions
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“Try to stop the quaffle, Ron!" Ginny heard herself scream as the Gryffindor practice rolled into the evening.
She had been taking her frustration out on the field tonight, and maybe on Ron too, as he seemed to be letting everything in.
Pansy and he didn’t even break the top five as the first hunt had ended, and he was sulky—sulky about Hermione, and sulky about god knows what else. Harry was acting like a ping-pong ball, bouncing back and forth between Ron, herself, and Hermione.
Ginny knew she hadn't been open with Harry. She kissed Zabini, and it was just a kiss. But it was clear Blaise wanted more than that; he kept pressing her about it in the tunnel on the way back from Hogsmeade. Granted, she was drunk, but she still remembered him asking her why it happened.
She was with Harry, she had spent her whole life wanting him, doing everything for him. She waited, she understood, and she was patient. He was a part of her, but the flames she felt kissing Blaise were unlike anything she had felt before. It was like Venus rising from the ocean, taking her first breath.
It was an uncomfortable feeling, like being forced to open your eyes from a comfortable dream.
She decided to pretend the kiss with Blaise never happened, to simply return to her normal life. She grappled with guilt, feeling like she should confess to Harry, but she struggled to find the right words to explain herself. The kiss was born out of a moment of weakness, nothing more.
She was keenly aware of the way Zabini looked at her, driven by lust. She wasn't naive; she understood his intentions. He likely wanted to boast about getting with "Potter's girlfriend." But she wasn't interested in playing his games.
Harry was the right person for her, or else everything would be for nothing. She resented the way Harry treated her like a child, but had she ever actually told him that? Harry Potter didn’t need to save her anymore.
"Gin, you think that's enough for the day?" Harry zoomed over on his Firebolt.
"No, I don't. Ron's a mess out here," Ginny responded sharply.
"I don't think yelling at him is going to help," Harry cautioned.
"Harry, I'm the captain," Ginny asserted.
"I'm not saying you aren't, but you've been edgy ever since that night in Hogsmeade," Harry said coolly.
"Because you and Ron keep treating me like I did something wrong," Ginny retorted.
"It's not like you, Ginny, to hang out with them. That's all I meant by it. Especially after the last Quidditch game. I thought you hated Zabini. Now you're celebrating with him. I just want to ensure you're alright," Harry explained.
"Practice is over!" Ginny screamed as the team looked battered and muddy, descending to the ground.
Ron threw his broomstick and stormed back toward the castle without even changing.
"Gin, he's really going through it. Maybe go easy on him," Harry suggested.
"He's really going through it? Aren't we all?!" Ginny shot back.
"... You know the portrait? The one we all had to go find?" Harry began tentatively.
"Of course I do, Harry. What about it?" Ginny snapped as she landed on the ground.
"You know... that corridor is where... is where Fred died," Harry revealed softly.
Ginny turned, meeting his eye line, his hair damp and messy, his scarred face sincere with empathy. It was painful to look at him.
"...I... I never knew where it happened, or maybe I did... I just never wanted to think about it," Ginny confessed.
"It was painful enough just to get down that hallway. Hermione and him always avoid it," Harry confessed.
"You don't?" Ginny asked, genuinely curious.
"You know... I've never been able to remember. I've never been able to remember anything about that night before Voldemort killed me," Harry revealed.
Ginny was shocked. How could he forget? She had been through hell; she voluntarily fought for her family, for her future. She'd never be able to forget.
"I've never told anyone that," he admitted again, meeting Ginny's gaze.
Ginny gently placed her hands on his dirty face, the face that brought her so much joy and so much pain.
"Are you happy?" she asked suddenly, surprising even herself with the question. There was so much pain in their lives; it almost felt silly to ask about happiness. True happiness seemed elusive, something they glimpsed but rarely held onto for long.
Harry looked startled by her question, and she didn't even know why she asked. "I'm happy that we made it, that we all did, but sometimes I feel empty. Like, what now?" he confessed.
Ginny stood beneath the hot, scalding water in the locker room showers, letting it rain over her. She knew she should apologize to Ron, apologize to Harry for her behavior. It was childish, and she was projecting onto them.
She wanted them to see her as a woman, a strong, independent woman—not just as a little sister anymore. But she was acting like one, and she needed to stop raging, stop snapping. She needed to bury whatever that outburst with Blaise was deep beneath the surface of her mind.
She walked toward the steamy mirrors, taking a moment to really look at herself. Who was the woman she wanted to become? Who was the little girl she used to be? She traced the familiar lines of freckles on her face, gazing into her eyes—the ones she shared with her mother.
Since her first year, the darkness of Voldemort had loomed over her, over her family. Now he was gone, and Ginny was free. Harry was free, Ron was free, Hermione was free.
But it came at a cost, and they paid it.
Did Ginny have to keep up the persona, keep being the diligent daughter, the steadfast supporter? Could she be free in a new way, one that allowed her to truly meet herself?
She let out a small huff before changing into muggle jeans and a tank top. She was still hot, her skin and body warm from exercise.
She enjoyed the walk to the castle, letting the early October breeze cool her internal temperature. Grabbing her bag, she opened the door toward the stands. The sun had just gone down, painting the sky with shades of red. She loved the castle at this time of night.
“Ginevra,” she heard the name before she even realized the voice, his voice.
"You know Harry is probably around here somewhere?" Ginny remarked as she turned back, finding him leaning against the stands, his face—his stupid, flawless face—resembling a bronzed statue.
She didn't know what it was with Slytherins, but why did Malfoy, Nott, and Zabini all have to be so damn tall?
"He walked up to the castle about 30 minutes ago with Coote," Blaise replied, his tone annoyingly casual.
"Why are you here?" Ginny questioned.
"I wanted to talk to you," he responded.
"About? I don't think we have much to talk about," Ginny retorted.
"I do. You kissed me."
"Zabini, I shouldn't have. It was a mistake, a moment of weakness. I'm with Harry," Ginny confessed.
"I've gathered that, but why?" Blaise inquired, moving toward her.
"Why am I with Harry? I love him. I've loved him since I was ten years old," Ginny replied firmly.
"You're not still ten years old," he pointed out, watching her squirm.
"Just because you finally got something you've wanted doesn't mean it was all what it was cracked up to be," he continued, his gaze unwavering.
"That's what you'd like, isn't it, Zabini? For me to break up with Harry so I can sleep with you?" Ginny shot back; her tone tinged with frustration.
"That's exactly what I'd like," he admitted bluntly. He was always so direct, saying what he was thinking, what he wanted. It made her heart race.
"One time, Pansy caught me watching you. I always watched, whether you were laughing with your friends, studying, or playing Quidditch; how I used to dream about being that broomstick….” He breathed, moving closer. Her heart was pounding, she thought he could hear it. “She called me out in front of all our friends on the train after we were in Slughorn's compartment. It was the beginning of the Dark Lord's takeover, and tensions were high. I told her I'd never touch a filthy blood traitor, but I was lying," he confessed.
What was he doing? Why was he saying this?
"Why are you telling me this?" she breathed.
"Because I don't want to lie anymore. I'd give anything to touch you, Ginevra," he admitted, moving so close she could smell him. It was tobacco and vanilla.
“I’m with Harry,” Ginny stood her ground, shaking slightly.
"I'll wait" he murmured, his fingers lightly grazing her lips. Ginny remained still, her breath caught in her throat, the sensation filling her body, sending tingles through her core.
Ginny breathed heavily, snapping back into herself. She swung her hair and didn’t look back as she walked quickly back up to the castle, her body still on fire.
She was pacing inside his dorm, unable to talk to Ron for a few days, with his task, classes, and practice, he hadn’t come to see her, and she was giving him time. But she had waited long enough.
Hermione didn’t feel like she was entirely wrong, but she didn’t feel entirely right either. She had pushed the limits of her relationship with Draco. She wondered if they had become friends, but quickly dismissed the idea. They were simply partners in a project, nothing more.
Yet she couldn’t deny the burning feeling she got when she was close to him, she kept pushing that feeling deep down too.
She would write to her healer about that.
Was she attracted to him? He was undeniably attractive—like a damn god with his jawline and chiseled cheekbones and tall, muscular body. But that didn’t mean anything. She found plenty of men attractive; it was normal in a relationship to think of others as attractive.
However, the feeling she got when Draco touched her—was that normal? Did he flirt? She vaguely remembered him mentioning something about her nighties at the pub. It felt like flirting.
And why, why the hell did he say he liked the way she looked in his jersey? Was it just to antagonize Ron further? Or was there something else there?
She heard the door rumble, and Ron came barging in, his hair wet with sweat, his face muddy and angry. He looked at her and instantly turned away.
“Ron!” she cried out.
“Wait here, Hermione,” he gruffed, rounding the corner and closing the door behind him. She sank onto his bed.
In her fourth year, Hermione started to look at Ron differently than she did Harry. After Krum and the Yule Ball, she realized that maybe he did too. When he started dating Lavender, it ripped her heart out. She tried to be his friend, but the feelings were more than that—deeper. After what they had gone through last year, there was nobody in the whole world who meant more to her than Ron and Harry. The bond they had was more than her schoolgirl crush; it was love. But what kind of love?
She loved how Ron made her feel; he was always comforting when she needed it most. But he could also be vengeful, and hurtful. She didn’t know if it was a trauma bond that made their relationship real, or if they could manage being with each other without the overarching fear of losing each other forever.
Sometimes she thought she was too young to be destined to be with Ron forever, and they had rushed into their relationship after the war.
It couldn’t end now; she could never lose him. They had too much together, too much history. You don’t go through what the three of them had without being bonded for life.
But was this her forever? Was Ron Weasley her forever? Would they be able to find that passion, that burning desire, that flame?
Ron burst back in, a towel wrapped around his waist, throwing his soiled Quidditch clothes on the floor with the rest. He was drying his hair with a charm, but the beads of water still clung to his chest. His face was flushed, and he looked exhausted.
“How was practice?” she asked tentatively.
“Fucking miserable,” he replied in a rough voice.
“Flying conditions?”
“No, it was me. I didn’t stop bloody anything. I was atrocious,” he said as he collapsed on the chaise, clad only in his boxer briefs.
Ron had freckles all over his body; she liked to trace them with her nails when they slept beside each other, even though he hated it and said it tickled him.
“I’m sure you were great,” she said back, treading carefully as his nerves seemed shot.
“’ Mione, I’m too tired to do this tonight… I’m not mad at you,” he choked out.
“You seem mad at me,” she admitted.
“I was. I didn’t understand why you’d hang out with them, the snakes. And I was even more mad that Malfoy took you to sleep in his room, instead of just coming to wake me up. But I should be thankful you’re safe, and that you got back safe,” Ron replied, his voice strained.
“It’s not like we planned it. They came and sat with us, and for a while it was normal. It was nice not to have to try to hate them or be on guard. They were trying, an olive branch” Hermione explained.
“I don’t like the way Malfoy has been looking at you. He’s got a weird obsession with you, Hermione,” Ron continued.
“No, he doesn’t. We’re just partners,” Hermione protested.
“You know, Neville told me that this summer he spent it in Muggle London, every weekend bringing back a new Muggle girl to his flat,” Ron revealed.
“Really, Ron? And how would Neville know that?” Hermione questioned skeptically.
“Greengrass. She walked in on him once with two Muggle girls, a few nights after they had hooked up. I don’t know what his game is, but I don’t like it and I don’t like how close he’s trying to get to you,”
“Draco Malfoy, sleeping with Muggles?!” Hermione exclaimed incredulously.
“Don’t say it like that. The same bloke who wouldn’t share a quill with you last year, now is letting you sleep in his bed, wear his clothes?” Ron pointed out.
The realization hit Hermione like a ton of bricks. Malfoy's previous disdain for her, his derogatory remarks, and the sneers he used to give her were all too vivid in her mind.
Yet now, here they were, in a completely different dynamic. He treated her with a level of care and intimacy that felt good and unsettling.
"I don’t want to call you that," Draco’s voice rang through her ears.
"Even if he has had some cathartic revelation about blood purity, I still highly doubt that Malfoy is interested in anything other than winning this challenge," Hermione reasoned, trying to ease Ron's worries while maintaining a sense of caution herself.
"Just be careful, and tell me if he tries anything. I'd love to punch him in the face again," Ron said with a hint of determination in his voice.
"Unity, Ronald!" Hermione joked, mimicking her best McGonagall expression.
Finally, she saw Ron laugh—the kind of laughter that warmed her heart.
Hermione felt a rush of conflicting emotions as Ron leaned in, his eyes ablaze with desire. She wasn't sure if she reciprocated that feeling currently.
"What if you and I have some unity?" Ron whispered, his voice husky, as he moved closer to her on the bed.
"You aren't tired after practice?" she asked, surprised by his sudden energy. He shook his head, his hand gently tracing the curve of her lip.
Hermione's heart raced as she struggled with her mind. Despite their recent argument, she wanted to make Ron feel better, to reconnect with him.
Ron leaned in closer, she closed her eyes and surrendered to the moment, allowing herself to be swept away by his kiss.
Her body responded to Ron's touch, her breath hitching as he trailed kisses down her neck and toward her breasts. Despite the rush of desire coursing through her, her mind continued to race with thoughts and doubts, unable to fully relax.
Her heart pounded in her chest as Ron's hands slid up her skirt. She wanted to surrender completely to the moment. But even as she moaned in pleasure, a part of her remained guarded.
He started rubbing her clit softy, and she tried to push away the thoughts that nagged at her as Ron continued to lavish attention on her. Despite her efforts to focus solely on the sensations coursing through her body, her mind refused to quiet.
She couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't quite right, that this wasn't the connection she craved.
His touch intensified, she felt a pang of guilt for not being fully present, for not reciprocating his passion in the way he deserved.
“Ron, turn me over,” she moaned into his ear, as his fingers were coursing between her thighs.
Ron's eyes seemed to light up as he looked down at her.
"Are you sure? We've never done that," Ron's voice was low, but there was an unmistakable edge to it. He seemed torn between concern and disbelief.
Hermione bit down harder on her lip.
“I'm sure," she replied firmly, meeting his eyes head-on.
She let out a gasp as Ron's strong arms encircled her, flipping her over onto her stomach with surprising force.
She instinctively reached out, grabbing hold of his pillow tightly, she closed her eyes as she felt him lift up her skirt.
Then the pressure, he plunged into her, and he moaned instinctively.
“Fuck, Hermione,” Hermione's breath caught in her throat as Ron growled into her ear. She closed her eyes tighter, trying to focus on the moment, on the pleasure coursing through her body.
Ron continued to pump inside her, Hermione felt the familiar sensation of arousal building, but then she pictured a flash of blond, then the image of Draco lounging on his chaise, shirtless, stretching his arms over his head.
"F-fuck," she gasped aloud, her voice wavering as conflicting emotions swirled within her.
The pleasure was undeniable, she thought about Malfoy, pressing her against that wall, breathing into her, and she was so close, close to cumming and she wished, she wished that the thought would leave her mind as her pleasure overcame her.
She felt her body react, pulsing against Ron’s shaft deep inside her as his breathing got more ragged, her mind running a thousand miles a minute as guilt formed into one tangled knot inside her core.
Ron’s breathing was heavy as she felt his climax, he lay down softly on her.
"Are you alright? Was that alright?" he always asked.
There were unexplored territories between them, things they hadn't dared to do, and that was her fault. She held herself back, remaining neutral, waiting for the spark of desire to ignite completely.
"It was good," she reassured him as he sighed and pulled her close, enveloping her in his arms.
But why did the thought of Draco push her over the edge?
What was wrong with her?
She had a devoted boyfriend who would do anything for her, and who had already done so much for her.
So why did it feel off? Why did touching Draco ignite a fire within her that she never felt with Ron?
She wanted to cry, feeling ridiculous, overwhelmed, and utterly confused.
Notes:
TW - again....some light Hermione and Ron smut.. this one again..for the plot.
And it's not good - Hermione is struggling through it...really struggling
Chapter 12: Halloween
Chapter Text
October swept by, the leaves transitioned into a variegated array of colors, and the chill of autumn seeped into the castle, leaving many sick with the fall flu. It seemed like half the castle was under the weather.
Ernie had roped Hermione into assisting with the Halloween planning committee. They were organizing a feast in the Great Hall for all students, with a special afterparty in the 8th-year Common Room. She had little interest in party planning, but MacMillan had crumbled under the pressure, so the planning was left mainly on her shoulders, although Parvati was happy to assist and Hermione made use of that.
Already swamped with coursework, she could breathe a sigh of relief knowing the next task was weeks away, as she couldn't bear to add dealing with Malfoy back into the mix just yet.
When she arrived for Alchemy, she was slightly horrified to find both Padma and Theo absent, leaving Draco alone at their work table, the room empty.
"Malfoy," she added coolly as she sat beside him, having avoided him since the incident in the Great Hall.
"Where's Nott?" she asked quickly.
"Sick, as is Patil. It's just you and I, and Slughorn has instructed us to work on our Prima Materia paper," he replied.
"That's actually quite helpful. I think I only have a few pages left, but I can use this period to finish it," Hermione's focus shifted immediately to the task at hand.
"You and the Weasel make up?" he said, dangerously close to her ear.
"Yes, no thanks to you," she retorted.
"No thanks to me? I didn't say anything," he countered.
"You taunted him. What was that all about anyway, you going on about me in your jersey?" she snapped, her eyes locking onto his.
His eyes, grey and metallic, held hers in their gaze. She felt that familiar tingle, the sensation that prickled her skin every time he looked at her as if he could see right through her.
"Something about Weasley just brings it out of me," he muttered, clearing his throat and shifting uncomfortably. He began to organize his parchment, his quill and ink scattered across the table, amidst piles of completed papers bound together.
"At my expense?" she pressed.
"It wasn't meant to be at your expense, but what does it matter now? All is forgiven, I assume," his voice remained cool.
"Are you attending the Halloween Party this Friday?" she asked, feeling somewhat foolish for even bringing it up.
"I've heard my partner is planning it, so I've been told I have to go," he replied.
"Are you dressing according to the theme?" she continued ignoring the jab.
"Gods and Goddesses? Yes, clever. Especially after the first Hunt. Was that your idea or MacMillan's?"
"Ernie's," she admitted, feeling a blush creeping up her cheeks. Ginny had been discussing their costumes all week; of course, she had already planned all four of theirs.
"Will you be taking a Muggle girl as your date?" she blurted out, the words escaping before she could stop them.
He looked at her, his mouth forming a grin, his eyes suspicious but not angry—more like he was amused.
"What are you trying to say, Granger?" he asked, setting his quill down.
"I've heard some stories... about you. This summer in London, with Muggle girls... lots of them," she stammered, unable to stop herself. Why was she asking him this? Now that she was saying it, she couldn't seem to stop. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment.
He just sat there, smirking at her.
"I never would have thought Muggles were your type," she continued awkwardly.
"My tastes have evolved since I was a pre-teen. I've been very closed-minded until recently," he purred.
She flushed even more.
"How did you know?" he questioned.
"Ron told me,” she said quickly.
"Weasley told you?" he said with disbelief
"Neville told him,” she explained.
"Ah, Greengrass," he smirked.
"Did she also mention in this delightful tale that I was with two Muggle women as well?" he asked.
Hermione gulped and shook her head.
"Right... believe it or not, I think I've flushed every ounce of bloody purity out of my system this past year. And it wasn't just the women; it was living with the Dark Lord. That also did it for me" he said sarcastically.
"Two women, Malfoy? Seems like you were trying to bury feelings, rather than facing them," she remarked.
"I was definitely burying something, but it wasn’t feelings" he smirked at her unease, moving closer to her.
Her face must have been bright red, and his scent... his fucking scent was drifting into her senses, burning a hole into her core. Her entire body tingled, right down to her...
"Some men are incredible at multitasking. I happen to be one of them. I wouldn't expect you to understand. I'm sure whatever Weasley is giving you is very... vanilla," he teased.
"Don't," she pushed back.
"Don't? Then why are you asking me about my sex life if yours is going so well?" he countered.
Fuck, he saw right through her. She tried to regain some composure, but this conversation was going in a direction she hadn't anticipated.
Why did she have to bring it up? Really, she just wanted to know what had changed his entire outlook, the one she had known for years.
"Honestly, I was just curious. You used to wash your hands if I had even touched something that you touched," she explained, trying to steady her voice.
His demeanor changed, and he stiffened, his jaw clenched and his eyes darkened.
"Like I told you, I was a fucking idiot," he muttered, looking down as he picked up his quill and began to sift through his notes.
"I shouldn't have pried... I was... it just felt like a gut punch," she admitted.
"A gut punch?" he turned to look at her, his expression softening.
"Just thinking maybe it was me. It was so stupid. Never mind," she said quickly.
"Granger," he started, but with a loud bang, Slughorn burst into the room.
"Ah, my favorite students! Well, I know I shouldn't have favorites, but here you are! My apologies, I just had to step out for a moment. I hope the papers are moving along well?"
Draco jumped, and he quickly turned back to his parchment, setting down his quill.
She was dying to know what he was going to say. She longed for their conversations. She'd avoid him, and when she did, her feelings would simmer, and she'd play them off as nothing more than curiosity. But when he was with her, he could stir them back up with just a look, just a glance, the slightest of touches.
They didn't exchange a word for the remainder of the class. Hermione immersed herself in her paper, the only sound she registered from Draco being the steady scratching of his quill on parchment. When the class finally ended, he abruptly rose from his seat before she even had a chance to gather her books.
The scent of sandalwood and leather lingered in the air as he left.
As Wednesday faded into Friday, Hermione's attention was fully consumed by Halloween preparations. Ernie, overwhelmed by the mounting pressure, experienced a complete breakdown, leaving Hermione to pick up the pieces and salvage their plans.
Despite the unexpected setback, Hermione found solace in the fact that the Halloween Feast exceeded her expectations; transporting her back to her youth. She found herself surrounded by nostalgia, joking and laughing with Ginny, Neville, Seamus, Dean, Parvati, and Ron. It felt as though they were reliving their third year all over again.
Hermione and Ernie had dedicated the entire day to preparing the Common Room for the afterparty. They spared no effort in transforming the space into a lavish spectacle. Intricate fountains of champagne graced the corners, while marble statues covered the room. With some assistance from Neville and Luna’s adept charms, they turned the back bookcases into a labyrinth of flowers and vines, weaving through the space with an enchanting mysticism.
Their commitment to the gods and goddesses theme was evident, MacMillan's idea, she reminded everyone.
To accommodate the festivities, they removed all the tables, chairs, and couches, replacing them with a sprawling dance floor. Strobe lights were fixed overhead, while an enchanted speaker would pump music throughout the room, amplifying its size tenfold. Parvati’s transfiguration work contributed to the grandeur, creating the illusion the room had doubled in size.
After returning to the dinner, Harry, Hermione, Ginny, and Ron retreated to Ron's room to add the final touches to their costumes. Ginny, ever the planner, had meticulously selected a costume for each of them.
"Here, Harry," Ginny exclaimed, thrusting a white chiton into his arms along with a golden wreath of olive leaves.
"Gin, this doesn't leave much to the imagination," Harry stammered, fastening the clasp at the top. The garment barely covered his forearms and shoulders and revealed a significant amount of leg—more than Hermione cared to see from Harry.
"I like it," Ron chimed in, standing nearby in a breastplate, holding a massive shield and spear, a helmet perched precariously on top of his head, not covering his face.
Hermione felt the surge of attraction towards Ron as he stood there in his Ares costume. There was something about the way the armor accentuated his arm muscles that was particularly appealing to her tonight, it could have also been the third gin and tonic she was currently chugging.
"Here, relax a little. It's a party," Ginny insisted, pressing a glass of gin and tonic into Harry's hand as he grimaced.
"Do I have to be Zeus? It's a little on the nose," Harry protested.
"Exactly why it's funny," Ginny retorted, taking a sip of her drink.
Ginny herself was draped in a white and golden gown, with a small golden crown and matching cuffs on her arms. The dress hugged her curves in all the right places, flaunting her figure. Ginny was going as Hera.
"Now for my Athena," Ginny declared, turning to Hermione and thrusting a white gown into her hands. It was accompanied by a plated corset that Hermione felt constricted her breathing. She realized she was wearing even less clothing than Harry as she looked at her reflection in the mirror.
"We look great, I don't know what you're on about, Harry," Ron exclaimed, admiring himself in the mirror and giving Hermione a playful squeeze on the waist.
"Finish our drinks, and then we'll head out. I want to make sure Michael has the right set-up for the speakers," Ron continued, taking charge of the situation.
"As long as Hermione doesn’t get Hogsmeade wasted again," Ginny chimed in with a laugh.
"Well, if she does, I'm here and I've got her," Ron interjected, pulling Hermione closer to him and giving her a small wink.
"Bottoms up," Harry laughed, and all four of them finished their drinks before heading out for the night's festivities
"Merlin Theo, it's like you're wearing a hand towel?!" Zabini chuckled as Theo entered Draco's room, clad in a small white skirt with gold chains looped over his right shoulder, a small helmet sitting on his head sporting wings.
"Okay Blaise, you're completely shirtless," Theo retorted, downing a drink in response.
"We have to go out to this thing, right?" Draco inquired.
"Your future girlfriend is the one hosting," Theo replied dryly.
"Theo, fuck off and stop saying that shit," Draco growled inwardly.
He didn't understand why Hermione had asked him all those questions about his sex life the other day, but he relished the reaction he got from her—the way her cheeks flushed, how she shifted uncomfortably. He had fully admitted to himself that he had a crush on Granger; he'd stop repressing it.
The memory of her waking up in his bedroom, wearing his jersey—it was the best feeling he'd had in years, and he couldn't explain it. He loved seeing his name branded on her.
He'd be delusional to think anything could ever happen between them; she was with the Weasel. And not to mention that she had hated him, they had hated each other up until six months ago.
But why was she always prodding? She had flirted, and if she flirted, he wasn't going to stop her.
He was taking whatever she was giving to him. It was pathetic but he couldn’t resist talking to her.
"What do we think?" Pansy barged through the door, her gown barely clinging to her skin, and live snakes writhing through her hair.
"You could turn me to stone any day, Parkinson," Theo winked.
"Not too slutty?" Pansy asked, examining herself in the mirror.
"Can't be sluttier than Blaise," Draco laughed.
"Where's Greengrass?" Zabini inquired.
"Fall flu, poor girl. She's been sick all day," Pansy replied.
"I wanted to speak with her. Apparently, it’s been getting around that I've been sleeping with Muggle girls all summer,"
"The only thing that got around, Draco, was you. It's not Daphne's fault," Zabini reassured him.
"There's already a crowd in the Common Room, but let's be casually late?" Pansy suggested, uncorking a bottle of Fire Whiskey.
"I've always loved you, Parkinson. You know that right?" Theo replied, kissing her cheek and grabbing the bottle, taking a big swig.
"Theo, why are you oily?" Pansy scoffed, rubbing her shoulder where Theo had just grazed it.
"It goes with the look, doesn't it make my chest look bigger?" he replied, puffing out his chest proudly, it glimmered, he had clearly lathered himself in something.
"Not really. Zabini's does, and so does Malfoy's," Pansy teased, a smirk playing on her lips as she tried to provoke him.
"Unfair," Theo jokingly whined, playing along with the banter.
The four of them indulged heavily in the liquid until half the bottle was empty, and the loud, heavy techno music thumped outside their walls. With one last drink, Theo dragged them out into the Common Room. Bright strobe lights flashed rhythmically as people danced, creating a sea of bodies. The fountain that Hermione had conjured was flowing with champagne, and that was Theo's first stop. Draco spotted Michael Corner attempting to control the sound system, while Neville stood nearby, explaining to two uninterested Hufflepuffs about the intricacies of the vines he had brought in for the labyrinth.
"Ahh, our favorite Gryffindors," Theo exclaimed over the pulsating music, just before Draco turned and caught sight of her.
She looked stunning—an armored corset fitted in all the right places, accentuating curves that Draco found particularly enticing. Her eyes sparkled, and she was wearing a shade of red lipstick. She never wore lipstick. Her hair was slightly messy, almost tangled. The only downside to her outfit was the ginger slung over her shoulders, looking smug in bronzed armor plating.
"Let me guess... Ares, God of War, and Athena, Goddess of Wisdom. How very you two," Theo smirked, eyeing Ron and Hermione up and down.
Hermione smiled shyly, while Ron, the lumbering twat, simply rolled his eyes and took another swig of his drink.
"And you three? Parkinson is Medusa, clearly," Ron remarked, glancing at Pansy. Surprisingly, there was no trace of contempt in his tone, a stark difference from his usual demeanor towards her.
"Hermes," Theo smiled in response.
"Nott, why are you wet?" Potter's voice interrupted, and Draco had to stifle a laugh at the horror on Theo's face.
"No, I'm not wet! It's part of the costume," Theo retorted
Ginny laughed as Harry passed her another drink. Blaise stood close to her, unnervingly close, almost protective, and stared at her as if something was amiss.
Draco still hadn’t asked him about that, he made a mental note to do so tonight.
"Zeus and Hera, how very clever, of course Potter would be Zeus" Theo snapped back, looking at Ginny and Harry.
“See Gin, I told you it was too on the nose,” Potter rebounded to his girlfriend, Blaise's eyes still on her.
"Hades, God of the Underworld," Hermione breathed, her gaze fixated on Draco. Her eyes illuminated in the light, and Draco felt a surge of warmth in his chest.
He donned deep black robes, casually draping them over his shoulders, fastened with fiery clasps.
"Bang on," he replied, cheersing her with a light tap on her cup.
He watched as her eyes danced over his chest, and he couldn't help but feel a thrill at her stare, he purposefully let his chest bare, he wanted her to see his scars tonight.
"Zabini, are you Poseidon?" Hermione asked, breaking the gaze she held with Draco.
"It was the only costume that allowed him to be completely shirtless," Pansy laughed.
"And I thought Harry was showing a bit too much," Ron retorted, and they all shared a laugh. Draco couldn't shake the oddity of witnessing Weasley and Parkinson exchanging banter like friends.
He watched as Potter rolled his eyes.
"Anyone want a drink?" Harry asked the group.
"I'll come with you," Ginny said quickly, shooting a daggered glance at Blaise as she pushed past him. Nods of agreement circled the group, and Draco couldn't help but observe Hermione as she drank deeper, seemingly resisting the urge to look at him.
"I'll help Potter," Blaise chimed in, and Draco observed as Ginny mouth something at him.
"Mione, do you mind if I go chat with Dean quickly? We have a bet going on the Chudley vs Puddlemere game, and I think he has the radio on in the corner," Ron whispered quickly, his eyes flicking towards Thomas standing in the corner, listening to a small radio with Finnegan.
Hermione shrugged and nodded, allowing Ron to squeeze past Draco to join Dean.
"Cute couple costume," Draco remarked to Hermione, though he wasn't entirely sure why he felt compelled to comment on it.
"Thanks, but Athena and Ares weren't lovers. They were half-siblings, usually at odds with one another," Hermione replied, her tone matter-of-fact.
"How on brand, then," Draco quipped quickly, knowing the comment was somewhat distasteful.
"Granger, this party, it's good... I'm surprised you pulled this off," Pansy interrupted, cutting through the tension.
"I'll take that as a compliment coming from you!" Hermione sneered, her tone reminiscent of a classic Malfoy sneer.
Cheers erupted from a group opposite them,
"Well, now it's a party," Theo exclaimed as two Ravenclaw girls began to snog each other on the opposite side of the fountain.
Draco's eyes lingered for a moment as he watched, taking a sip from his drink. When he looked back down, he found Hermione staring back at him, her expression annoyed, her eyes holding something back.
"Drinks!" Harry announced loudly as he, Blaise, and Ginny returned with handfuls of cocktails. Hermione grabbed two and downed one in quick succession, her mood visibly shifting.
"I'm going to go dance," she declared, shooting a glare at Draco before heading off.
Draco was perplexed by Hermione's abrupt departure.
What the hell was that about
"Is Ron listening to that game?" Harry inquired, peering over Draco's shoulder. Pansy nodded, taking a sip of her cocktail.
"I'll be right back," Harry announced before pushing past Ginny and walking towards Ron, Dean, and Seamus.
"I'm going to mingle, and see what my options are tonight," Pansy winked at her friends before disappearing into the crowd.
"Ginevra, I thought you'd be Venus," Zabini flashed, leaning in close.
"Why?" Ginny spat back.
"Just the way you looked at the painting is all. She reminds me of you, that flowing red hair..." Blaise said devilishly, and Draco couldn't help but shoot him a confused look.
Did Blaise want to die?
"Zabini," Ginny retorted quickly, her tone laced with irritation, and Theo grinned wickedly at Draco; eyes wide in surprise.
"I'd love to see you naked by the ocean, the wind blowing in this hair," Blaise continued, pushing further, wrapping his fingers around a strand of fiery red locks.
"Blaise, stop it," Ginny said through gritted teeth as she pushed past him, her hands lingering a moment too long on his chest for someone supposedly disinterested.
"What the fuck is that!" Draco nearly spat out his drink in shock.
"What?" Zabini looked incredulous.
"That! I knew something was going on there. You were acting too fucking weird that night in Hogsmeade," Draco accused.
"Unfortunately, nothing is going on there," Blaise replied casually.
"You know she's dating Potter? Like, the Harry Potter?" Theo chimed in.
Blaise shrugged nonchalantly. "She could be dating me. Potter isn't right for her."
"And you know what's right for her?" Draco shot back.
"Just like you know what's right for Granger? 'Cute couples costume'?" Theo added sarcastically.
"That's different," Draco protested.
"Oh, why? Because you haven't actually admitted it to her, so the two of you just dance around it?" Theo retorted.
"I think it's one-sided, mate," Draco grimaced.
"It's not," Theo insisted seriously.
As the beat of the music thumped through the Common Room, the night went on. Pansy was dancing with a Ravenclaw, and Theo was jumping around from group to group, undoubtedly trying to spread his version of unity.
Draco and Blaise stood together, with Blaise watching Ginny converse with Lovegood and Longbottom. Draco lost sight of what was in front of him and focused on his drink, grateful for the distraction.
In the dimly lit room, with techno music pulsating to the rhythm of the strobe lights, Draco caught glimpses of movements on the dance floor. He began to walk closer to the fountain, drinking deeper, his eyes scanning the crowd.
And then, he found her.
It infuriated him.
Her hair was wild, cascading over her shoulders as she moved on the dance floor, her dress slipping down her shoulder to reveal more of her chest.
She was grinding her body against him, her head thrown back against his chest. And Ron fucking Weasley had his hands tightly gripping her hips, reveling in every movement.
Draco tightened his grip on his glass, feeling venom coursing through his veins.
What the fuck was this?
The music continued to thump, and he couldn't tear his eyes away. He sensed someone behind him and turned slightly to see Pansy refilling her glass, moving closer.
"Weird, isn't it? Weasley looks hot tonight, all armored up," she slurred, and Draco shot her a dagger with his eyes.
"What?!" he snapped.
"I mean, for the Weasel," she smirked, unfazed by his reaction.
When Draco looked back, Hermione's eyes met his, sparkling in the dim light. Her face appeared and disappeared with each flash of the strobe, and Draco could tell she was drunk. She looked almost vengeful as she locked eyes with him before turning into Ron's arms, throwing hers over his shoulder and sloppily bringing him in for a kiss.
Draco turned away, seething with anger. She was doing this to him, trying to make him jealous? She wanted to make him jealous... Did she care?
"Watch it, Potter!" Draco roared as he turned and nearly collided with Harry, who was clutching his drink tightly.
"Oi, sorry, I was just trying to rip out my eyes at that," Harry grimaced, pointing to the dance floor where Ron and Hermione were putting on a tumultuous show.
"Same," Draco muttered as he pushed past Harry, his eyes darting toward the labyrinth in the back where the music seemed oddly muted.
Draco felt an overwhelming urge to rip his whole brain out, to tear his chest open and rid himself of the feeling raging within. But Hermione was doing that for him. Why? Why would Granger do that? The thought gave him a sick sense of hope.
He walked deeper into the labyrinth, and even he was impressed by it. It felt as though he was truly outside, surrounded by vined high walls and small alcoves where couples were snogging.
He continued, the faint sound of music gradually fading until only the sound of his own footsteps remained.
Finally, he found a secluded spot against a statue and sank onto it, the weight of his emotions pressing down on him.
"FUCK!" he screamed, the sound ripping from his throat.
Why did it have to be Granger? Why did he have to fall for the fucking Golden Girl? She was smart, witty, and strong – so fucking strong.
He didn’t deserve to feel this way about her, nothing he did would ever make her feel this way about him.
Not after everything he had done to her, or didn’t do to her. He was a coward, he had let his parents; his family dedicate his life; and now he was in fucking ruins.
He took a deep inhale, then another, trying to steady his racing thoughts. And then he smelled it – lilacs.
Draco turned quickly, his heart pounding in the darkness. And there she stood, like the goddess she was, slightly sweaty, slightly out of breath.
"What are you doing here, Granger? Shouldn't you be fucking your boyfriend on the dance floor?" he spat out, knowing it was a vile thing to say.
"You called me vanilla," she retorted.
"I didn't call you vanilla, I called the sex vanilla... Is that what that display was for? To prove me wrong?" he shot back.
"You watched those two girls, the ones kissing,"
"Is that a crime?" he countered.
"No," she stood steady, her breath heavy.
Was she jealous? He barely caught a glimpse of them; he didn't even remember who those girls were.
"Why is it that every night in the Common Room, you sulk off into your dorm? You never stay when everyone else is out there," she questioned.
"Every night you go into Weasley's room," he pointed out.
"So?" she pressed, moving closer to him.
Her breath mingled with his in the cool air of the labyrinth. She was drunk, not as drunk as she was in Hogsmeade, but she was brazened.
He could feel the tension crackling between them, thick as the vines they stood under. His mind raced, trying to make sense of her presence here, so close to him. But there was something in her eyes, a glimmer of determination mixed with vulnerability, that stopped him from pushing away.
"Excuse me, if I don't feel like listening in on you faking your orgasm with Weasley," he pressed, his face so close to hers that he could see the different colors in her eyes - chocolate, espresso, creamy brown.
"You're lying," she gulped, her voice wavering.
"I'm not, but you are. You may have been able to fool the Weasel, but I know a fake when I hear it," he pressed, remembering the sounds from that night after the Quidditch Party, the sounds that had echoed through his mind. Her sounds.
"Ron casts a Muffliato," she urged her face flushing with embarrassment, maybe even resentment at the thought that he might have heard.
"Does he? Then how would I know... 'Oh yes, oh yes, Ron, right there.” he mocked. “You don't think he secretly wants everyone to know he's bagged the golden girl?" Draco closed the gap between them, their noses practically touching.
"I'm not faking it, Malfoy," she said in a breathy voice, one that even she couldn't pretend was believable.
"You are," he insisted.
"Why do you care anyway?" Her voice suddenly grew stronger, more assertive.
“Because you don’t know what I’d give to have you squirming underneath me…..to hear how you actually sound as you unravel around my cock. Weasley doesn’t even deserve the sympathy moans you give him,”
He watched as the breath caught in her throat and saw the goosebumps rising on her skin—those glorious goosebumps.
And he fucking knew she felt what he did.
She wanted this as much as he did.
"And you do?" she said her voice barely a whisper.
He seized her wrists, his grip firm. His lips hovered dangerously close to hers, their breaths mingling in the charged air, a silent invitation hanging between them, begging to be answered.
"I don't deserve it either, but a man can dream.”
Her tongue gently danced over her lips, almost meeting his.
The entire world had stopped, except for the pulse he felt in her wrist.
"’Mione! Hermione, are you in here?!" The voice of the ginger cunt pierced through the silence of the labyrinth, shattering the fragile intimacy that hung between them
He reluctantly released her wrists, his heart sinking as she took slow steps back, her eyes lingering on him for a moment before turning away.
Draco watched her chest rise and fall with each breath, as she finally turned and ran back down the path.
Chapter 13: Who is Harry Potter?
Chapter Text
Hermione and Ginny both seemed off, with Ginny's mood swinging, between sadness and a short fuse. Harry couldn't quite figure out what was wrong with her; she wasn’t herself, at least not since their return to the castle.
Contrastingly, Harry felt an odd sense of calm within the castle's walls. Despite the typical chaos of school life, no one seemed to be actively trying to kill him this year, it was a nice change.
The gnawing at him wasn’t from the memories that the walls held, but from the regret that he and Theo hadn’t really finished the first task, he should have grabbed the Remembrall, he should have felt those painful feelings as his friends did. It kept him awake at night thinking about it.
It was that that led him to Theo’s door early on Wednesday morning.
November had officially begun, and with his and Theo’s next task only a week and a half away, Harry felt the pressure mounting.
"Potter?" Theo swung open the door, his grin was as infectious as ever.
"Mind if I come in for a moment?" Harry asked tentatively. He wasn't keen on this conversation, but he wasn't one to shy away from uncomfortable situations.
"Of course," Theo sounded surprised as he stepped aside. Harry found himself taken aback by Theo's room—it was bright, with greens and silvers, but not the gloomy shades of the dungeon common room. The colors were vibrant, and there was actual art on the walls, not just posters. A small bar cart sat in the corner, along with a record player—a muggle one at that.
"How was Theo a Death Eater?" That question always lingered in the back of Harry's mind.
"What do I owe this pleasure?" Theo asked as Harry stood awkwardly by the door.
"I wanted to talk to you about that first task. Do you think we should have picked up those Remembralls? What if they were important for the remaining hunts?" Harry pressed, watching Theo's face tentatively.
Theo's smile wavered for the smallest moment, and Harry observed as a familiar expression washed over him. Thinking, calculating his next step.
Theo was good at masking his seriousness, often joking in a sardonic tone, but Harry had glimpsed that clever and calculated side of him that he usually hid.
"I've thought about it, I believe we were supposed to remind ourselves of what we've been through, rather than repress it. I hope it's not crucial to the remaining hunts, but Potter, there's no way I wanted to reopen those wounds," Theo said seriously.
"McGonagall said something to us about shedding the sins of those who came before us. Do you have any idea what that means?"
"You know I didn't take Divination, right?" he gave a sly grin.
"I haven't been able to stop thinking about it. When my friends talk about what they saw, I feel guilty—guilty that I didn't do it as well," Harry confessed.
" You need to stop feeling like you have to be everything to everyone or carry the weight of the wizarding world on your shoulders. You've done enough. You know that? If you don't want to see memories of the Dark Lord and death swirling in your head, then you shouldn't have to," Theo said, grounding Harry slightly.
"Why did you become a Death Eater, Theo?" Harry couldn't help himself; the question was burning a hole through him.
"You really want to know that story?" Theo's eyes flickered again, and Harry nodded.
"When I was thirteen, my father killed my mother. She tried to leave him; Tiberius Nott was a master of deceptions. He had everyone fooled—friends in the ministry, even pals with Slughorn and Fudge. The Nott name was revered. He was able to sweep it all under the rug, saying it was a heart issue. It wasn't.” Theo paused and cleared his throat, and Harry was about to interrupt but Nott waved him off.
“ I dove deep into my father's lies, and his delusions. I thought if I took the Dark Mark, I'd have some type of control over my life. I didn't truly believe in blood supremacy in regards to muggle-borns as the rest did, but I believed that my name made me undeniably better. It all shattered when I took the mark and realized what it truly meant. Draco always knew what it meant; he didn't want it, and he was angry with me for months when I took it. I'm glad my father died in the battle. I'm glad he was finally outed for what he was." Theo said, his honesty evident.
"He died? In the battle? Did you fight...?" Harry asked tentatively, wishing he could remember more.
"It was Lupin who finally killed my father, most of the battle I was trying to find Draco... I heard that Crabbe and Goyle were trying to backstab him, attempting to kill and hand you over to The Dark Lord themselves. If that happened, all three of them would have been dead. I was too late, as you know," Theo explained solemnly.
"I'm not sad about Crabbe or Goyle," Harry spat back.
"Neither am I, but I'm glad you saved Draco. When he told me that, and this is going to sound so fucking stupid, but it changed my life. After everything Draco did, you still went back for him, it gave me hope that I could have redemption. Not a day goes by where we aren’t thankful you won, although I doubt, you’ll ever hear that from Malfoy, but it’s true." Theo remarked his mask completely off.
"Malfoy saved me, and so did his mother. He knew exactly who I was in the Manor, yet he gave us time," Harry added.
"Don't act like he's the most honorable bloke in this place, he's not, and neither am I," Theo said with a smile.
"Next Hunt, we're going to do it right," Harry declared.
"If you insist. Again, not the most honorable bloke in the place. Apparently, that's you," Theo's sarcasm returned, and Harry knew he had pushed as far as he could.
"Appreciate it, Nott," Harry said as he got up to leave.
"I apologize about the Weaslette, the night in Hogsmeade. We should have known the girls couldn't keep up," Theo offered.
"Oh, that? I honestly don't know what's gotten into Gin, but you're right... you should have known," Harry replied slightly cooly.
"But just so you know... we'd always look after them. I don't think Zabini would let anything happen to your girlfriend," Theo said with a small, knowing smirk.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry rounded on him.
"They're partners. Just like I'm sure you wouldn't let anything happen to me," Theo winked and closed the door on Harry.
Theo was strange. Harry had never met anyone like him before—someone who could feel serious emotions but constantly hid behind a mask of frivolity, Theo seemed to know more than he let on, an agent of chaos.
As Harry reflected on his conversation with Nott, he felt like he had torn off one bandaid for the day, preparing himself for the next. He knew he needed to talk to Ginny. Their dynamic couldn't continue like this; the back-and-forth was exhausting. He needed honesty from her about what was going on.
All he wanted was for Ginny to be happy. That had always been his deepest desire for her, and it remained unchanged.
Harry thought a lot about his relationship with her. He knew he had asked for too much—diving into a relationship and then abruptly ending it after Dumbledore died, leaving her waiting and in the dark for months. The hardest thing he had ever done was walk past her that night on his way into the forest to meet Voldemort. He had never told her that.
He could vividly remember her kneeling over the body of a young girl. He hated that he could remember that image but not others.
He was in his own head, Hermione and Ron, he understood their feelings and their emotions because they had gone through it with him. Ginny, had been through a different type of hell, one that he didn’t fully understand and he felt she resented him for it.
She usually would come to his room, but the past few weeks had been sporadic. She wouldn't always show up, or he'd find himself asking if she would be staying. Today at lunch, he had asked Ginny to come over this evening, and she looked hesitant but agreed.
His stomach was in knots; he had the feeling this conversation wasn’t going to be a good one, especially given Ginny's avoidance of eye contact. He felt like their relationship had deteriorated so fast, and he couldn't help but feel like he was helplessly watching it crumble.
He was working on his Defense Against the Dark Arts paper for Professor Jones when he heard the creaking of the door and caught a whiff of her shampoo. Her face remained stoic, an expression he wasn't great at reading. She hadn't brought any of her things with her, something she would usually do if she were planning to stay.
"You alright?" he asked as she hesitantly sat down on his chaise.
"Yeah, you?" she replied dully, and he knew that this already wasn’t going well.
"Gin, are you going to tell me what’s going on or are we going to continue to pretend like it’s nothing?"
"I know I’ve been difficult... and not one hundred percent forthcoming with my feelings, but you need to understand being in this castle again, it’s forcing me to face all these feelings that I didn’t have over the summer," she explained.
“Why can’t you talk to me about them?” he pressed, moving closer to her, her eyes welling up with tears.
"Harry, I love you, and I’ve loved you for such a long time, but coming back here, it’s reminded me how much my life has been completely revolving around the war, and you, that I barely know who I am anymore," she confessed, her voice trembling.
"What do you mean? Gin, you have so much, you have me and Ron, Hermione, your family," Harry insisted.
"That's who I am though. I'm Ron Weasley's little sister or Harry Potter's girlfriend. I haven't felt like I truly have met myself, and I feel I need to fit into this box, to make everyone happy. After what my family has been through, after what you have been through, it feels like an obligation," Ginny explained.
"Is that what you feel with me? That I feel like an obligation?" Harry asked, his heart sinking at the thought.
"No, I don't feel obligated to be with you. I wanted to be with you," Ginny reassured him.
"Wanted?" Harry felt his heart constrict at her words, falling into a pit, his stomach dropping.
"Want, I don’t know... the memories I saw in the Remembrall, they were all about you somehow. Bill and Fleur’s wedding, when you three Apparated when the Death Eaters arrived, then when Bill’s Patronus told us you were safe at Shell Cottage, then when Hagrid carried you back from the forest. I saw it all. That’s all I saw: you," Ginny admitted.
"Ginny, you know I didn’t want any of that," Harry replied, his tone pained.
"I’m not blaming you, Harry. I’d never blame you. You did what you had to do, and I understand that," Ginny reassured him, her voice softening.
“I used to resent Hermione, that you took her with you and not me, that Ron got to be with her. We all knew there was something between them, and they got to be with together. I desperately wanted you to ask me to come,” Ginny confessed, her voice tinged with sadness.
“If I asked you to come, your entire family would have been in danger, and I couldn’t have done that. It was already such a risk, even taking Ron, but if you disappeared too... they would have known. You know that, I’ve told you that,” Harry pushed, wanting her to understand.
“I know it’s selfish, and I knew it was selfish then to want to come, but a part of me thought you didn’t think I was strong enough, didn’t think I could handle it,” Ginny admitted
“No... no, you’re one of the strongest people I know. But I wanted to protect you, and your parents, and your brothers... I didn’t want anyone else to die for me,” Harry said softly, watching as tears streamed down her face as she clutched his hand.
“Being back here, it feels like I’m in a coffin. I remember being here with the Carrows, and the thought of you was the only thing that kept me going, the thought of my family. Now, being here, I feel lost. I need to find myself again, Harry, and I need to find out who I am without you,” Ginny explained,
“What are you saying, then?” Harry asked, though he already knew the answer, needing to hear her say it.
“I think we need to take some time apart and find out who we are without each other,” Ginny replied softly.
Deep down, he knew she was right. The memory of that happy spring they spent in the castle before Dumbledore died was what got him through the darkest of times last year. But now they were here, and they could fall back into that routine, it just didn’t feel the same, and he didn’t understand why.
“Gin... I feel so lost,” Harry admitted, squeezing her hands tighter.
“I do too,” she sobbed.
“I don’t want you to feel like this is the end. I don’t think it is, but we can’t start a life together like this. We can’t start a life without healing properly,” she confessed.
“I just miss the summer and Grimmauld Place,” he said smiling, remembering their sweaty evening's painting, of flying in the field at The Burrow, her wrapped in his arms when Mr. & Mrs. Weasley weren’t paying attention.
“I wish we could go back to that time, but these feelings were going to come back no matter what we did, or how long we avoided them,” her eyes sparkling with tears, and Harry’s heart ripped apart.
He lay on his bed, staring at his ceiling for a long time after she left. His heart ached for the memories of what they had before the war, before Voldemort. Everything had changed. Their love had weathered one of the hardest storms of his life, yet their love couldn’t weather what came after the sea had calmed. She deserved to find out who she was, and he deserved to just be Harry Potter, whatever that meant now.
He had followed the righteous path, the path Dumbledore had laid out for him, following it blindly for years, unknowingly being pulled by its strings. Now, he was free from it all. He thought the only thing he wanted was to be normal, to have Ginny. But now that he had those things, she was right. It didn’t feel like enough, and he hated that he felt that way.
Ginny should be enough, but she couldn’t fill that empty void in his chest, the one he felt every time he tried to have a conversation with someone and didn’t know how to act or what to talk about, or how to be a person.
It felt like he had done everything he was ever supposed to do, and now that it was over, what the fuck was there left?
Ron was always going on about Auror training, and Harry had to admit it would give him purpose again, something to strive for, continuing the fight he had started that had not ended when Voldemort died.
He thought about what Theo said, about how he thought the Dark Mark would finally give him some control in his life, and for some sick, twisted reason, he understood. His scar had given him purpose, avenging his friends, his family, and his parents had given him purpose.
If Draco, Pansy, and Theo could find their way after being forced to confront all the wrong choices, he could find his way after making all the right ones.
He'd tell Ron and Hermione in the morning, wondering how long it would take for the rumor that Ginny and he had decided to go their separate ways to spread. He hoped to Merlin that Rita Skeeter wouldn’t get a hold of it; he didn’t need Molly or Arthur to find out through the paper. Ginny had promised to talk to them on her own.
This felt like a new start, one that terrified him. He wanted to find his way back to Ginny, when they both grew, when they both knew what they wanted and what type of life they wanted. But this felt like a moment where Harry Potter could be in control of his own life.
For once.
Chapter 14: Malfoy's Ego
Chapter Text
“I don’t mean to say I told you so, but I told you from the beginning, that I didn’t love this, especially after last year, leading her on…” Ron said, pacing as Harry sat in front of him and Hermione in his room early on Thursday morning.
“She ended it with me, Ron. I would have liked to try and work on it,” Harry replied cooly.
“I just don’t get what she meant by she can’t ‘find’ herself if she's with you. What does that even mean?”
Ron didn’t understand his sister. She had spent her entire childhood with a crush on Harry, and when he finally reciprocated, when he finally was available without the threat of death, she all of a sudden wasn’t available or didn’t know herself.
He didn’t understand girls.
“Ron, Ginny has only ever been there for you, for Harry, and for her family. She should get to experience who she is now,” Hermione reasoned.
“So, you’re on her side?” Ron rounded on Hermione.
“I don’t want you to be choosing sides,” Harry interjected, trying to keep the peace.
“Well, you’ve put me in a tough position, once again. Between my best mate and my sister,” Ron grumbled.
“I didn’t put you in any position. Nothing needs to change between any of us. Ginny and I will get along as friends, and if a day comes when we can both be more than that, then maybe we try again. But until then, please don’t make this a bigger deal,” Harry urged, hoping to diffuse the tension.
“Do you want that, Harry?” Hermione asked, her tone gentle.
“I don’t know. I do feel sometimes that I’m lost, wondering what is next. I had hoped Ginny would help me navigate that, but if she also feels the same way, two broken people can’t work on themselves and each other,” Harry replied sincerely.
Ron took a deep breath, contemplating Harry's words. He couldn’t wrap his head around it. It was mad.
He and Hermione were perfectly fine. Yes, they had their own issues. Sex didn’t always come as easily for her, and navigating the romance in their relationship could be challenging. But Ron understood that Hermione needed time to get over the hurdle from friends to lovers. They had been through a lot, and nothing had been easy.
Ron had hurt Hermione deeply last year when he left, and it took her a long time to get over that. He couldn’t imagine his life without her. She was his safety vest, constantly keeping him afloat, keeping them all afloat.
He didn’t know what he’d do if she decided she wanted to go back to being friends. They had crossed that line. How would they ever go back? Could they? He didn’t want to think of it.
He had no reason to believe Hermione was unhappy. Of course, she had her moments of sadness and guilt, they all did. It was a part of moving on.
“Mum will cry,” Ron finally huffed as he sat back down on the chaise.
“Ginny said she’d speak to your parents,” Harry said
“You know you’re still welcome, always,” Ron pushed, the Weasleys were the only family that Harry and Hermione had left. He’d never want either of them to forget that.
“I know, but I want to give Gin time, and space,” Harry added.
Ron hated this, hated the fact that Ginny and Harry had split up. He hated the fact that they even started dating. He was worried about this from the moment he first saw Harry and Ginny kiss two years ago. It was his best friend and his little sister, his only sister. And Ginny had loved Harry since the moment she saw him board the train to Hogwarts.
He felt stuck between them, unable to rationalize Ginny’s thinking. She had got her lifelong wish, to be with Harry, and he loved her—or at least he thought Harry had loved her.
It was all fucking confusing. He really didn’t want it to interfere with Harry’s friendship or how much time they’d spend at the Burrow, but Ron guessed that this summer was probably the last they’d spend there all together anyway.
In his mind, it all made sense. He'd get a flat in Diagon Alley, and he and Harry would be in the Auror Training program. Hermione would have decided on what she wanted to do at the Ministry and moved in. It was easy, laid out in front of them.
He was walking toward the library, his steps hurried and his mind racing. He had a Defence Against the Dark Arts paper that was due in two hours, and he wasn’t finished with it.
Hermione had helped with most of it, but she was in classes this morning and already overwhelmed with her own coursework.
So, Ron had to scribble what remained before Professor Jones scolded him in front of everyone. And she would, too. Hestia fought in the battle, and was an Order member; she didn’t care who Ron Weasley was, in her mind. Coursework was coursework, and deadlines were deadlines.
The library was surprisingly busy, with many fifth years taking up tables. Ron scanned for a while and decided to look in the backstacks closer to the windows he liked, the dread of finishing this essay creeping up with every step.
Rounding to his favorite table, he noted a small group already seated there. Adjacent was a large table with a singular occupant.
He dropped his bag across from her, and her gaze snapped up at the sound.
"Mind if I join, Parkinson?" he asked with a slight smile.
Surprisingly, he didn't feel the dislike toward her that he expected after their experiences in the chamber with the Remembralls; he was even beginning to empathize with her.
"Are you sure? People are starting to stare," she pointed out, gesturing to the younger Ravenclaws at the adjacent table who were clearly watching them.
But why should he care? He was just sitting at a library table with his assigned partner. Nearly everyone in the school knew about the Unity Project and who was partnered with whom; it had been the subject of much gossip, especially regarding Ron, Harry, and Hermione's partnerships.
"I've been friends with Harry since I was 11 years old. I'm used to people staring," he joked, pulling out his papers to get to work.
“Are you comparing me to Potter?” Pansy joked back.
After Ron broke through the outer defensive layer that was Pansy Parkinson, he began to notice her true personality more. She was funny. He had always assumed her demeanor was simply cruelty, and sometimes it was, but she could also be sharp and straightforward. Since he could dish it back as well as she could, he didn't really mind her jabs.
"Merlin, no. You couldn't pull off the unkempt hair," he teased.
"I'll take that as a compliment. His hair is horrid," she retorted with a smile.
"What are you doing anyway? I've only ever seen you in the library when Granger is dragging you in by the scruff of your neck," she added.
"Working on a paper for Defense Against the Dark Arts. It's due in a few hours, and I haven't finished it yet. I don't feel like being reamed by Jones today," he huffed stretching his arms.
"Slacker," she jabbed.
"Not all of us can take seven classes," he retorted.
"Not all of us will get jobs based on being Ron Weasley," she hissed back.
"Fair point. You know I still have to take the Auror training course, so does Harry," he explained.
"A formality, I assume?" she questioned.
"Not really a formality if we still have to do six months of rigorous training," he clarified.
"What do you want to do, Parkinson? I know you said something about being a trophy wife. Was that real or were you joking?" he asked curiously.
"It's what my parents wanted. I wouldn't mind opening my own shop... but who would ever visit a store owned by Pansy Parkinson?" she mused.
“What kind of shop? Can’t be a joke shop, couldn’t ever compete with Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes,”
"Do I look like a joke shop kind of girl?" Pansy retorted, still scribbling on her parchment.
"Clothing?" he guessed.
"Ding ding," she confirmed.
"And you're scared nobody will come into this hypothetical store" Ron probed.
"Nobody wants to be dressed up by an ex-Death Eater's whore," Pansy replied bitterly.
Ron was taken aback by her comment. It carried so much resentment, so much internal loathing. Is that how she saw herself?
"Death Eater whore? Why would you say that?" he asked, genuinely curious.
"All anyone ever associates me with is Death Eaters. Considering my Father was one, and that my parents tried to force me into marriage contracts with both Malfoy and Nott, that's all I'm seen as," Pansy explained cooly.
"I don’t see you that way," Ron responded earnestly. He meant it. Never once had he associated Pansy with the rest of them. He knew what she did last year was cowardice, and he had held a lot of hate toward her when he heard. But he never equated her with the atrocities committed by the Malfoy and Nott families.
She looked up at him, genuine surprise mingled with slight caution in her eyes as if she half-expected him to pull the rug out from underneath her like she couldn't quite believe him.
"You don’t?" she asked, her voice tinged with disbelief.
"No…. Mean? Yes. Death Eater's whore? No," he reassured her with a smile, trying to dispel the fear he saw in her eyes as if she had revealed too much.
She rolled her eyes, but a smile played at her lips. Ron was good at easing tension, he knew that. Yet, he was also skilled at creating it, and he also knew that.
"What do you think about the next hunt? We're scheduled for next Thursday," he brought up, as Pansy’s eyes returned to her paper.
"We have some time to make up if we want to crack the top five," she quipped
"I was thinking that too. I'll be more helpful this time. I regret not being more helpful at the beginning," Ron admitted.
"Glad you admitted that," she shot back with a smirk.
He rolled his eyes in response.
"Ginny and Zabini are up first. You don’t think you could get any intel out of him?" he asked.
"Couldn’t you get intel out of your sister, or out of her boyfriend?" she countered.
"Seeing as she's no longer his girlfriend, I think that's going to be impossible. And Ginny doesn’t tell me anything," Ron replied quickly.
"Potter and your sister broke up?" Pansy snapped; her tone sharp.
"Don’t go spreading that around... but yeah, they've been, uh, I don’t even know. I shouldn't have said anything," Ron muttered, regret coloring his words.
"Interesting," Pansy hummed, her tone suddenly mischievous, very Slytherin.
“Why?” Ron didn’t like her tone.
"Aren’t you supposed to be working on your paper? Not gossiping," she hissed back quickly, cutting off his train of thought.
With an exaggerated huff, Ron began to take out his quill. What did she mean by 'interesting'? Why did it feel like all the snakes knew more than they let on? He glanced down at his watch.
Bloody hell, he only had another hour before class.
Blaise had just moved his Bishop, and Draco was analyzing the board in front of him. He was close to checkmate, and Zabini could see it. He loved playing wizarding chess with Nott or Blaise; they both weren’t very good at it.
They were sitting in his room, after their last class, awaiting Daphne, Pansy, and Theo to join them so they could go to dinner together.
Draco had spoken with Hermione once since the night in the labyrinth on Halloween. It was in class on Tuesday when she dropped her quill, and he picked it up and handed it to her. Her face flushed as she said thank you.
He felt like a complete fucking idiot for saying what he did.
Of course, she wouldn’t reciprocate. What did he expect? For her to run off, end it with the Weasel, and jump into his arms?
He had been cruel to Granger for six years, and he expected all of a sudden after she found out he was sleeping with Muggles and after he told her that he wanted to make her orgasm; that her feelings would change?
It was fucking mad, he was fucking mad.
She probably thought he was only interested in fucking her. That he only wanted her as a way to rebel against his parents, against the way he was brought up, and against the Dark Mark. That’s what it had been this summer, but that’s not what this was.
The feelings she stirred within him, he fucking hated. He wished it could be literally anyone else. He didn’t deserve her. He’d never deserve her, but this was his twisted fate, a constant reminder of his past, his actions.
"Are you ever going to tell me what happened in that labyrinth?" Zabini asked, moving his bishop. Draco had him now trapped.
"The labyrinth?" Draco played stupid.
"I watched, you know? You walked in there, Granger followed you shortly after," Blaise pressed.
"I made an ass of myself. Is that what you wanted to hear?" Draco sneered.
Of course, Zabini was watching. He couldn’t even have a moment of peace within these walls.
"What happened?" Blaise insisted.
"I told Granger I'd like to watch her cum, and that I'd like to be the one to make that happen. Long story short, the Weasel came looking for her, and that's where it ended," Draco snarled, matter-of-fact.
Blaise looked up and laughed, a guttural laugh that pissed Draco off as he watched his friend roar at his expense.
"Oh, and the whole 'I'd like to see you naked, Ginevra' shit is any better?" Draco rolled his eyes.
"I just can’t believe it. You're usually much smoother than that, Malfoy," Zabini said, still with a laugh on his lips.
"Checkmate," Draco hissed, sitting back quickly.
"She probably thinks of me as some sex demon. Greengrass spreading her lips to everyone about me this summer, and then I go and say that shit to her," Draco huffed.
"From the way she was dancing with Weasley, I don’t think she's some innocent little lion," Blaise added.
Draco hated that image. He still saw it in his mind: Hermione grinding her body against the Weasel, sweaty, and how his hands rolled over her so effortlessly, like she was all his, always his.
"Just tell her you like her?" Blaise added as if it were the most casual thing in the world to tell Hermione Granger—the swot he had hated for years, the girl who punched him in the face in the third year, the girl who he watched being tortured at his home by his family—that he liked her.
"Oh, right, Zabini, brilliant idea. Let me give her the very last ounce of my self-respect," Draco retorted sarcastically.
"I didn’t think you had any left. Maybe give her some of your ego? You still seem to have a lot of that," Blaise smirked back.
The door crashed open, and both of their eyes flew to the doorway that Pansy had just barreled through. Her bag flew down by the chaise, and she looked like she had run here, clearly out of breath.
"Bloody hell, are you alright?" Draco asked with concern.
"Potter..." she gasped. "The Weaslette..." she continued to gasp, clutching her sides.
"Broke up," she finished, breathless.
Blaise's eyes flashed as he locked them with a gasping Pansy.
"Are you for real? How do you know?" he asked eagerly.
"Weasley told me,” She said quickly.
"Which one?" Draco interjected skeptically.
"Ron," she replied.
That was fucking weird. She called him Ron. He didn’t think she had ever called him Ron in her entire life. If she wasn’t calling him something foul, it was "the Weasel" or "Weasley."
"Ron?" Draco repeated scathingly.
"Yes, Ron Weasley told me. Are you daft? He was in the library, and we were chatting about our next hunt, and he let it slip. It must have just happened because he clammed up once I pressed more," she explained hastily.
"Interesting," Zabini said, looking delightfully smug.
"Oh, please. Don’t tell me you think this is because of you?" Draco snapped back. Theo might entertain such delusions, but not Blaise.
"This is what happens when you're honest, Draco. It forces others to be as well," Zabini shot back with a grin.
Draco shot him a look of disbelief. No matter what the hell Zabini was saying or doing to the Weaslette, there was no way it got her to end it with Potter.
He would have to face Hermione next week, as they were scheduled to go on their next hunt. He knew he should try to talk to her before then. After all, he still wanted to win, and he wanted to beat Zabini’s time. He wasn't sure how well their dynamic would continue to work if Granger thought he was going to try and jump into her knickers every time she was around him.
"Parkinson, since when are you and Weasley so close? Gossiping like schoolgirls, " Draco probed, drawing back into the room as Pansy sat heavily down on the chaise.
She shrugged her shoulders and pouted her lip. "He’s not so bad," she said oddly, a smile creeping onto her face.
"He’s not so bad? Are we talking about the same bloke?" Draco pushed further.
"Listen, you both weren’t in that chamber with me. He was. He pulled me out of that dark pit," she said with all seriousness in her tone.
"I hate this Unity Project," Draco seethed.
"I love it," Blaise said, the grin still wide on his face as he sat back and folded his arms.
Fucking hell.
He'd have to talk to Granger.
"Is anyone in the Common Room?" he asked Pansy.
"Ah, Boot, Longbottom, Goldstein, Finnegan, and a few others. I didn’t get a good look, I ran by," Pansy shot back.
"Weasley? Potter? Granger?" he asked quickly.
"Nope," she replied.
"I'll be back," Draco got up quickly and walked toward his door. Pansy and Blaise didn’t even have time to ask him where before he had opened the door.
He was going to rip off this fucking bandage now. He would need to.
He had the smallest moment of courage, or anxiety, or fucking mental illness—he couldn’t decide which one.
He walked out into the Common Room. Nobody paid him much attention as he walked up the spiral steps toward the second-floor room.
He stood for a moment, feeling his heart pound in his ears as he looked at the door labeled
'Hermione Granger.' He took a deep breath and knocked.
She swung open the door, and he could smell her before he saw her—her hair was wild. He loved that. She was wearing a small school skirt, her blouse unbuttoned, and she had a quill between her teeth. Her eyes widened at the sight of him.
“I thought you were Harry,” she said, her surprise evident, plucking the quill from her lips.
“Sorry to disappoint,” his heart still pounded.
“Can I come in?” he asked, vividly aware that everyone in the Common Room below could see him standing outside her door.
“Ahhhh, yes, no, I mean of course,” she stuttered nervously as Draco walked into her room.
It was like an explosion. It felt as if a library had erupted, with stacks of books and charmed calendars with rotating to-do schedules. Her bed was the same as his, but the comforter and duvet were white, and her hangings were gold and maroon Gryffindor colors.
The desk was cluttered with parchment, ink, and quills. He felt like her room was an indication of how her brain looked, and it fascinated him.
“Our next hunt is next week, and I wanted to clear the air,” he said, straightening up. Her eyes locked onto his as she slouched by her desk. He could melt into those eyes. His gaze trailed up her legs, briefly.
Focus, Malfoy, he gulped to himself.
“I shouldn’t have said what I did on Halloween,” he continued, clearing his throat.
“Mal-“ she tried to interrupt, but he stood up taller.
“It was out of line and inappropriate,” he said firmly.
“What am I to you?” she asked breathily, her eyes full of wonder, and he panicked.
What the fuck should he say to that? He had come clean, been honest, but how fucking honest should he be?
“You’re my Unity partner, and I respect you. Uhm-“ he cleared his throat again as he watched her brain churn behind those chocolatey eyes.
“Did you mean that, what you said?” she asked softly.
“Yes,” he said, feeling like he was ripping his soul open with each word.
“Yes?” she breathed again, her body erupting in those damn goosebumps again.
He wanted to run his tongue over them, to feel her shiver beneath his touch.
“I meant every fucking word,” he continued to stare at her, his heart pounding in his chest.
She stood and stared at him like she was resisting the urge to collapse. The tension was so heavy; it was like a magnetic force, and he knew she could feel it too, pulling them closer. He knew he needed to take these next steps carefully.
He moved closer to her, closing the gap.
“Like I said, I know I’ll never deserve it. I’ll take whatever you’re giving me, Granger, if it’s friendship or whatever this may be,” he said softly, his voice laden with sincerity.
This was the closest he had ever been with someone without ever touching them like her energy was wrapped around him.
A loud, obnoxious knock rang out on the wooden door, shattering the vibration in the room.
“We’re grabbing dinner,” it was Potter’s voice, and Draco heard his footsteps clambering down the spiral staircase moments later.
He tried to push past her, and she touched his fingers lightly with hers.
She touched his fingers.
“Friends,” she said quietly, looking over at a photo of her and the Weasel.
Draco nodded and opened the door to leave.
It tore at whatever was left of his blackened heart, but it was also the only string that held it together.
He could work with friends; he could work with that. It was more than he deserved. He knew he was never going to get completely what he wanted.
Weasley had been there for her time and time again, and Draco had been nothing but vile his whole life. Especially to her.
Always the boy who made the wrong choices, but fuck, he wished if he could make just one right one, it would be her.
Chapter 15: Moonlight
Chapter Text
Her heart felt like it was soaked in kerosene; it had been on fire since Halloween. She couldn’t get the thought of Draco Malfoy out of her head. And why the fuck did he have to come into her room and say that, say he meant those things?
She had really hoped he just wanted to sleep with her, in some internal cathartic purging. It would make it easier to push these thoughts away. But the sincerity in his eyes, the hitching in his words... Was this all some game to him? She didn’t think so. She felt like over the years she could tell when Malfoy was being a devious shit, but she didn’t think this was it.
He asked her to be friends. Friends?
She could be friends with him, but how come every time she was around him it felt like her heart throbbed for him, that her skin burned to be touched by his? That wasn’t friends. Even at the height of her crush on Ron, she never felt that.
Her thoughts were always with him, any moment her brain had shut off momentarily from schoolwork, or listening to her friends that’s when her brain would drift to him.
Standing in the labyrinth, breathing raggedly, telling her he wanted to make her orgasm—those words in her memory would always send a delightful shiver all over her body, and she hated that.
They were going to have the next hunt in just days, and she didn’t know if she could mentally handle what was in store. But she wanted to be prepared; she couldn’t afford a distraction. Ginny and Blaise had beaten their time, but they could make it up.
She needed to talk to Ginny; she knew that too. Ginny had been holed up in Gryffindor Tower since the breakup, and except for mealtime and the odd class, they hadn’t spoken much about it. She needed to talk to her friend, check-in, and remind Ginny that they were friends too.
She floated through her day, eating breakfast alone as usual. Harry and Ron always came down a few hours after her. Malfoy stopped sitting in the Common Room early in the mornings, and she couldn’t help but think this was because of her. She used to see him when she left Ron’s room.
She hadn’t been sleeping in Ron’s room as much as she had been at the beginning of the year. Her nightmares still persisted, but she was trying to persevere through them anyway.
She felt the memories of Bellatrix swirling in her subconscious were better than the ones of Draco that would linger in the forefront of her mind while she was sleeping beside her boyfriend.
She needed to snap out of this; she needed to pull herself together. She felt like she was unraveling, and she was getting exhausted trying to hold it all in.
Arithmancy was a welcomed subject; she could completely focus on her work. Even with the lingering scent of sandalwood and leather wafting in her nostrils as Nott, Pansy, and Malfoy all sat at their table behind hers, she felt his eyes look over toward her a few times, like rays of sun burning into her profile.
She met his gaze twice and gave a small awkward smile.
They had Alchemy today, and that table was small; she’d be close to him.
When she made her way to the Gryffindor table, she noticed Ginny sitting down with Neville and Seamus, chatting happily, while Ron and Harry sat a little farther away.
Weird. She knew they were giving each other space, but she felt like she was choosing when she went to sit with Ron and Harry. Ginny just gave a soft smile and Hermione smiled back and continued down the table.
“Alright, ‘Mione?” Ron said cheerily as she sat down.
“Busy day,” she huffed as she put her things down.
She noticed that Harry’s eyes kept glancing down at Ginny, and he seemed distracted.
“Alright, Harry?” she asked, trying to divert his attention.
“Yeah, yeah,” he said vacantly as he picked at his chips.
“How are you feeling about the Hunts this week? What day do you both go again?” Hermione quickly changed the subject.
“I’m tomorrow night,” Harry added.
“Parkinson and I are Sunday. I think Ginny and Zabini are tonight... interesting to see what their time will be this time,” Ron quipped.
"There's quite a buzz about their potential time. Padma and Justin couldn't stop discussing it this morning. Malfoy and I are scheduled for Friday. I'm hoping we can outperform them, all in the spirit of friendly competition, of course," she said, a hint of sarcasm in her smile.
"I still think it's unfair that you and Malfoy got paired up. You both excel in everything, and Draco had training under Bellatrix, twisted as she was, she was a powerful witch. And then there's you, Hermione, known as the brightest witch of your age. Seems like an unfair advantage to me," Harry remarked casually, catching Hermione off guard.
Hermione quickly countered, "If it was truly an unfair advantage, then why did Ginny and Zabini manage to beat us?" Harry just grinned and shrugged, "Fluke."
Hermione couldn't help but roll her eyes.
She only had a few minutes to scarf down a few bites before realizing she had only fifteen minutes to get to class. Rushing, she ran up the stairwell toward the classroom. Bursting through the door, she noticed Theo sitting directly beside Padma, in the spot she usually occupied, engaged in conversation, leaving the chair between Nott and Malfoy open. She gulped as a tingling sensation ran through her, taking a breath as she walked toward her seat.
Hermione couldn't ignore the changes she saw in Draco. He was making an effort, striving to be a better man. Despite the years of animosity and resentment she had harbored toward him, she found herself unable to muster any level of hatred, that would have been easier than what she felt now.
Placing her bag down beside her seat, she pulled out her textbook, parchment, and quill. Looking back down, she noticed Malfoy had slid over a piece of assignment paper on Soul Bonding. She smiled at him, and he gave a coy grin back.
“Hi,” she breathed quietly.
“OH hi, Granger, you know that I’m sitting here too,” Theo said, turning his head quickly and giving her his classic grin.
“Hi, Theo,” she rolled her eyes.
“Good Afternoon class, today we are going to start our coursework on Soul Bonding or Soul Binding, a particularly difficult piece of magic used to bind two magical individuals with each other for life, and some say even in death,” Professor Slughorn began as he walked toward the front of the class.
“Soul Binding is a type of Alchemy and magic only a few have ever achieved, and it’s mostly just theorized. Today we will be reviewing two different thesis works on the subject, and I’d like you to work with the partner beside you to go through these notes. Mr. Malfoy and Ms. Granger, and Mr. Nott and Ms. Patil, if you please.”
Hermione turned in her stool toward Draco, who looked up at her with heavy eyes, his face chiseled and jaw tense as the sunlight hit him. He ran his hand through his hair and pivoted toward her, arranging their paperwork in front of them. Professor Slughorn gave them two thick books, one by the long-dead Paracelsus, and the other from Cleopatra the Alchemist, one of the few female alchemists who were said to have made a philosopher's stone.
Hermione leaned over to reread the texts from Cleopatra, and she noticed Draco’s breath shorten as she moved closer to him. She didn’t even realize until she felt that tingling sensation, the one she always got when their bodies were close.
“Did you want to take the text by Cleopatra, or did you want Paracelsus?” Draco's voice had a slight edge.
“I’d love to take Cleopatra. I’ve searched the library for this text, and even the restricted section didn’t have it. I’m fascinated by how Slughorn got hold of it; it must have been from a private source,” her mind raced at the prospect, like touching gold.
Draco chuckled slightly in her ear as she leaned in.
“An old book, and you’re impressed. You should see the Manor’s library,” he teased.
She flushed deeply. She had heard about the older wizarding families' estates having monstrous libraries filled with ancient and lost texts, and she had heard that Malfoy Manor had the best collection of them all, inheriting almost all of the Black family's texts.
“Having all that at your fingertips, I’d never leave,” she said quickly, her words almost tripping over themselves in her eagerness.
She noticed him shift slightly, and he clicked his tongue together.
“Certain rooms in my home are tainted forever, but the library was never one of them. Anytime you’d want to come to see it, I could show you. But I’d understand if you’d never want to step foot into that place again,” he said in a gruff voice.
“Is there a direct Floo line into the library?” she smiled slightly, and he warmed.
He was right. She didn’t know if she could ever set foot in the Manor again. But she couldn’t resist the chance to see inside his library. And he was extending an olive branch, trying to bridge the gap between them.
“I could arrange that,” he mused and passed her the text.
She nodded, torn between conflicting emotions. Was it such a good idea to go to his home, alone, with him, after everything that had happened between them? Her mind and her heart were at odds, pulling her in different directions. She desperately wanted to see that library, to spend time with him in these small moments, but she was with Ron.
“After the next Hunt, you'd take me?” she suggested tentatively, aware of the potential danger.
“Whatever you want, Granger,” he replied with a smile, taking out his quill and beginning to make small notes on his parchment.
Ginny had planned to meet Blaise at their designated spot for the second hunt, and their recorded time was all anyone could talk about. Everywhere she went, whispers followed her, amplifying the pressure she felt.
She was determined to win, to prove to Harry and Ron that she was capable, but they had set a high bar, and maintaining that momentum was crucial.
The past few days had been incredibly tough without Harry. While most people had stopped probing about their breakup, Ginny was still grappling with the loss, navigating through the stages of grief.
Ending their relationship was the right choice, she knew, but it came with its own set of challenges – the loss of their friendship, the upheaval of her routine, and the absence of him.
Despite her initial surprise, Ginny found herself appreciating Blaise's newfound restraint. He had been so forward when she was with Harry, but now that they were apart, he seemed to respect her space, behaving almost like a regular human being.
"Ginevra,” Blaise rounded the corner with his usual cool demeanor, a wide grin adorning his handsome face.
"Blaise," she replied, leaning against the cold brick wall.
"Are you ready?" he inquired.
"As ready as I can be. A lot of people are hoping we don’t maintain our time," she responded quickly.
"We might have accidentally put too much pressure on ourselves," he smirked.
"All because of your fondness for tits," she joked.
He chuckled, then licked his lips lightly as he tried to regain composure.
"How have you been? Since you and Potter," he asked, his tone hardening.
"Isn't that what you wanted?" she sneered.
"It is, but it doesn't mean I expect you to feel nothing about it," he replied firmly.
She despised how calculated he always seemed, how he understood and exhibited patience. She wasn't like that; she could be impulsive and quick to react.
"You have the parchment?" she asked, eyeing his hand tucked into his pocket.
He nodded and retrieved it, and she felt her stomach churn with nerves as the moment drew near.
Taking a deep breath, she exhaled slowly, trying to calm the swarm of anxious thoughts within her. Then, she felt Blaise's hand on her forearm, firm and reassuring. Instantly, a sense of calm washed over her as she met his eyes.
The parchment unfurled in his hand, the golden writing transitioning into black ink, familiar yet electrifying.
“In a journey to fathom another's plight,
Peer past the woods, where secrets take flight.
Consult the bees, the leaves, the overlooked,
In their whispers, truths are tucked.”
"I hate riddles," she chuckled, looking up at him.
"Peer past the wood, consult the bees, the leaves, the overlooked. Let's focus on that to start with," Zabini reasoned.
Always calm, always patient.
"The Forbidden Forest... You don't think they would want us to go in there?" Ginny asked, a hint of apprehension in her voice.
"It's possible. It's the only woods around here unless we go to Hogsmeade, but I doubt they'd take us that far off the campus," Zabini replied.
"Consult the bees, the leaves... In Greenhouse Six, there's an Apiary. We could start there," Ginny suggested, surprised she hadn't thought of it sooner.
She loved honey with her tea, and Professor Sprout often allowed her to take some honeycomb after Herbology class.
"Anything you want," he smiled widely as they made their way down the corridor.
It was a quick walk down the stairs directly out to the Greenhouses, but the November weather greeted them with a chill. The leaves had changed, and the grass was beginning to wither. Ginny cast a warming charm as they exited through the back entrance doors.
“It’s this way,” she grabbed Blaise’s hand to pull him along faster, with such long legs she was still outpacing him.
“Just tell me where to go, and I’ll follow,” he said in a husky voice, which made Ginny blush.
She opened the gate of Greenhouse Six, it was dark, but she could hear the buzzing of the hives tucked into the back of the building.
“Lumos,” Zabini cast his light as they crept in, moving slowly toward the hives.
"Consult the bees, the leaves, the overlooked... something has to be here somewhere," Ginny whispered, her voice barely audible over the thrashing November wind against the greenhouse's glass paneling. She scanned the surroundings, searching for any clue that might lead them closer to their goal.
“Ginevra, look,” Blaise waved his wand over a pile of leaves dancing on the ground, blowing gently where no wind was present.
“In their whispers, they are tucked?” Ginny leaned down, trying to discern any hidden message, her fingers trailing through the soft leaves.
The buzzing of the bees grew louder, and suddenly, the hive swarmed around them. Blaise's instinct was to swat at them, but Ginny intervened.
“No! Wait, watch!” she urged, grabbing his arms and holding them still. The bees circled their heads, teasingly brushing past them. It was unusual behavior for this time of year, but they danced on, buzzing towards the door.
Ginny flicked her wand, unlatching it as the bees formed a long trail.
“We need to follow,” she yelled, grabbing Zabini's hand once again. He gripped it tighter as they ran after the swarm, heading down a small animal path toward the Forbidden Forest.
The forest was enveloped in darkness, viridian hues clinging to the late-season palette as they passed the threshold of trees. The buzzing of the bees still echoed from up ahead. It had been a long time since Ginny ventured into this forest, and despite herself, she couldn't shake off the nervousness. Zabini had his wand raised and ready as they raced over roots and greenery.
About five minutes up the trail, they reached an opening with a massive oak tree, five feet wide, anchoring itself in the middle of the clearing.
The bees had stopped and swarmed around it. Ginny glanced hesitantly at Zabini and took a step forward, the only sounds accompanying her being the crunching of her footsteps and the pounding of her heart.
Zabini stood rigidly behind her, so close she could feel his presence, his protective stance blocking her as they edged closer to the tree, his wand still raised.
With a shaking hand, Ginny reached out and touched the bark of the tree, feeling its roughness under her fingertips. Carvings began to burn into the wood, the bark pushing back where her hand had lain, revolving like on a track until a small circular basin appeared, shimmering like moonlight in liquid form.
Runes were carved into the stone basin, matching the etchings in the tree above, dripping with sap.
"You Must Choose Who You Let In. It Can Only Be One."
"It's a Pensieve," Blaise said in awe.
"I've never seen one this close, only heard about them from Harry," Ginny remarked, her hair strands dangling atop the swirling liquid's surface.
"You must choose who you let in. It can only be one,"
Ginny gulped, realizing the gravity of the situation.
"I'll do it," she offered.
"No, I’ll go," he countered.
"Are you sure? I'll see everything," she hesitated.
"I don't want to see you snuggled up with Potter," Zabini smirked, trying to ease the tension.
Ginny nodded, grabbing his hand once again. They both leaned forward, their faces reflected in the water, and then they dove in together.
Their descent was swift, plunging from the sky with a force that left an indelible mark in Blaise's memory. As they landed, the impact reverberated through their bodies, grounding them firmly in the scene before them.
They found themselves standing in what appeared to be the Slytherin Common Room, or at least what Ginny assumed to be so. The room was covered with intricate carvings of serpents, their sinuous forms intertwining along the walls. Large fireplaces nestled in each alcove, it was a surreal sight, to be submerged beneath the lake's depths.
"Malfoy!" Blaise's voice cut through the tension. Draco stormed through the room, his expression a mix of sweat and unease, like seeing a ghost; Crabbe and Goyle trailing behind him like specters from the past.
"You two, stay!" Nott's command reverberated through the room, his voice carrying an authority that Ginny had never witnessed before. It was as if she were looking at a completely different person.
Blaise reached Draco and pulled him into an alcove, his expression twisted. Draco's face was gaunt, dark circles hung beneath his eyes like bruises from sleepless nights.
"What's happening?" Blaise demanded
"He can't tell you," Nott interjected
"I can help," Blaise insisted
"No one can help," Draco retorted bitterly, his words full of defeat.
Ginny's head spun as she found herself once again thrust into another memory.
This time, she stood inside the Hog's Head, surrounded by chaos. Students of all years were flooding out of a tunnel leading from the Room of Requirement, panic and fear on their faces. Prefects and older students from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw were ushering the younger students from their houses to safety, while distant thrums of battle resounded from the castle.
Amidst it all, Blaise stood in front of a group of younger Slytherins who seemed to be struggling. Nobody else appeared to be helping them.
"We don't know where to go," one of the girls in green robes sobbed, her eyes darting around desperately. Ginny guessed she couldn’t have been older than eleven.
Blaise knelt down beside them, his expression grave. "Where are your parents?" he asked, his voice steady despite the urgency of the situation. Most of the children looked back toward the castle, their silent answer clear.
Ginny watched as Blaise turned to Parkinson, who stood nearby, frozen and pale.
"We have to get them out,"
"Zabini," Pansy responded sharply
"We have to get them out!" Blaise's voice rang out
“Where? There isn’t anywhere to take them,” Pansy's voice quivered, her eyes welling up with tears as she surveyed the group of fifty-some young faces staring back at them, each one filled with terror.
“We’ll apparate them. We can go to my place for now, until after the battle. We’ll figure out a plan. We can’t leave them here. We have no idea what Hogsmeade will look like in an hour's time,” Blaise insisted.
“Apparate them? All of them? Zabini, we’ll exhaust all our magic if we do that. Your estate is outside London,” Pansy countered.
“Pansy, I don’t care. I’ll do it all myself if you won’t help,” Blaise pleaded, desperation creeping into his tone as he glanced back at her.
Ginny watched as Pansy's face changed, she nodded.
Pansy rushed over and grabbed the hands of four students. “Hang on,” she instructed them, her voice firm but gentle. With a swift spin, they disappeared.
“I’ll take the next four, and we’ll keep coming back, okay? You will all stay in the drawing room until we tell you what to do next, alright?” Blaise reassured the remaining students.
Blaise grabbed the hands of four more students. Ginny could hear their cries and screams echoing around her as she watched Blaise disapparate on the spot.
With a flash and a heavy thud, they were back on the ground, surrounded by the leaves of the Forbidden Forest once again. The moonlight filtered through the trees.
Ginny watched as Blaise's ragged breaths filled the air, his figure silhouetted against the moonlit forest. The carvings in the wooden trees suddenly lit up, displaying a message.
"22 minutes and 43 seconds." But Ginny couldn't bring herself to care about the time.
Her focus was on Blaise, astonishment written all over her face. She couldn't believe what she had just witnessed — he had helped, he had gotten the kids out safely during the beginning of the battle.
“Zabini…” she began, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes searching his for answers.
“Don’t... I didn’t think you’d see that,” he replied, his voice rough.
“Why wouldn’t you want me to see that?” Ginny questioned.
“It wasn’t heroic. I still fled the castle, I didn’t fight for my friends” he admitted
“You got those kids to safety. You and Pansy. You must have had to apparate, what, five or six times in a row? Your body, it’s not meant for that,” Ginny pointed out.
Blaise remained silent for a moment, his eyes fixed on the ground. Ginny watched him, feeling an overwhelming wave of gratitude, like she was finally seeing behind the wall he hid behind.
“I’ll get you back up to the castle,” Blaise said abruptly, standing up and brushing the leaves off his robes. As he turned away, she reached out, grabbing his robes and pulling him closer to her.
“You did a good thing,” she said earnestly, pressing herself closer to him. She could feel the tension radiating from his body.
Blaise's eyes softened as he stared back at her, a flicker of vulnerability crossing his features.
He gently tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, his touch surprisingly tender. Ginny felt her heart flutter at the intimacy of the gesture.
“I don’t want this to change the way you feel about me, Ginevra,” Blaise murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I like it when you hate me. It’s easier for me to understand I can never have this.”
Ginny's heart ached at his words, the raw honesty in his voice tugging at her emotions. She reached up, placing a hand on his cheek and guiding his face to meet hers.
"Blaise," she began softly, her voice filled with warmth.
She leaned in, and they were kissing.
It was a kiss reminiscent of the night in the chamber, a kiss where their souls seemed to erupt, filling the empty void between them.
"Then make me forget," she whispered against his lips, and in an instant, he had her wrapped up in his arms.
She pulled her leg up on his hip, and she was falling, falling back into oblivion.
Everything she was feeling, everything she held onto, seemed to be lost. At that moment, she wasn't Ginny Weasley; she was someone she hadn't met yet, someone who reveled in the feeling of Blaise Zabini's kisses trailing up her neck and his hands crawling up her thigh.
She was Venus.
He growled against her ear, and she responded with a deeper kiss, feeling the heat building between them.
He pressed her up against the large oak tree, the one that held their memories, and his hands danced up her skirt. She urged him forward, bucking her hips into his, grinding her body against his.
He moaned, fueling the goddess inside her, as she surrendered to the passion of the moment.
The pulsing between her legs was almost unbearable; she needed him to touch her, to relieve the ache that consumed her. As if reading her mind, his fingers found the bundle of nerves, sending waves of pleasure coursing through her body, he was rubbing her clit over her knickers, her skirt hiked up around her waist as he held her firm.
"Blaise..." she moaned.
"My name sounds so fucking good on your lips," he responded huskily.
"Don't tell me to stop, Ginevra. I can't now," he added.
"Fuck me," she said boldly.
Without protest without any word, she heard the unbuckling of his belt, and the sudden pressure exploding inside her core, a deep moan as he entered her.
"Fuck.." he moaned into her ear, the sound echoing in the night.
He held her firmly against the tree, the moonlight casting a soft glow on her face.
Her hands were wrapped around his neck, her legs clasped around his waist as he plunged inside of her, each thrust taking her deeper into ecstasy.
Who the fuck was she? She didn't care.
All that mattered was the heat of his body against hers, the rhythm of their bodies moving as one, lost in the intoxicating pleasure.
She felt the volcano building inside her, her entire nervous system focused on him and his movements. She didn't care how loudly she moaned his name, grinding her hips to take him deeper, harder, desperate for the completion she needed.
"Don't stop," she pleaded, feeling herself on the brink of an orgasm.
"I'll never stop now that I have this," he groaned in a panted breath. "Now that I've felt you."
She crashed around him, waves of pleasure washing over her like the sea against Venus's shell. Her wetness flowed over him, her body twisting as he pumped the remaining pleasure of himself into her.
As he held her there, eyes wide open, staring at the moon high in the sky, she felt incredible. He felt incredible.
This was the most reckless thing she had ever done, and yet, in that moment, it felt utterly perfect.
She felt his heavy breaths against her neck, his embrace tight as they caught their breath together.
"39 minutes and 20 seconds total time. Thank Merlin they didn't count this shag, I'd never live that down," he murmured, his lips trembling against her skin as he let out a breathy laugh.
"I'll come to your room tomorrow night, and you can try again," she chuckled, feeling his grip finally loosen as he let her gently fall to the forest floor.
"Don't tease me," he quipped back, buckling his belt and watching her hungrily as if he were ready for more.
"I'm not that cruel," she replied softly, feeling a sense of power and freedom wash over her.
She was fire, she was moonlight, she was the stars.
She was Ginevra.
Chapter 16: Just My Luck
Chapter Text
“Ah, Potter, I've been looking forward to tonight," Theo said happily as Harry rounded the corner, pushing off the wall he was leaning on.
Harry was really not in the mood for Theo tonight, but he knew he didn't have much of a choice. Everyone had noticed that Ginny and Zabini had dropped from the top spot, which was expected as the second hunt was underway and more time was being added.
Harry, however, was giving her space and hadn't asked about her time, desperately hoping Hermione or Ron would inquire instead. Perhaps Theo knew from Zabini.
Feeling as lost as ever without Ginny, Harry did find a newfound sense of freedom in being able to stew in his own thoughts without constantly worrying about her feelings or being a good boyfriend and partner.
He couldn't ignore the attempts at flirtation from various girls in his year and below. It was strange; Hermione had told him in their sixth year that he had become someone girls looked at, but he still couldn't get over that hurdle.
Even when seventh-year Hufflepuff Abby Fawley asked him to go to Hogsmeade with her, Harry was taken aback. Abby was pretty, with long blonde hair and big blue eyes, undeniably attractive. Yet, Harry found himself stumbling over his words and making excuses instead of accepting her offer.
"Any news from Zabini about their time?" Harry asked, ignoring Theo's comment.
"He's kept his lips shut, but he seems very pleased with himself, so I'm assuming things went well," Theo replied.
"I don't understand how they keep doing it. Maybe I underestimated Ginny," Harry mused aloud.
"Oh, you've definitely underestimated Weasley, and probably Blaise too," Theo said with a devilish grin, hinting that he knew more than he let on.
“How are you anyway? I've heard about the break-up," Theo asked.
"I'm sure everyone did. Skeeter finally got her hands on it... But I'm great, thanks for asking," Harry replied, his tone a bit sassier than he intended.
"Strange, isn't it? The Unity Project was supposed to bring people together, but it seems like it's tearing people apart and bringing together people you never thought would work," Theo observed.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry hated how Theo would talk around a subject.
"You and Ginny breaking up, now she and Blaise seem closer than ever after all this winning. Then there's Parkinson and Weasley; she actually called him Ron the other day. And Malfoy and Granger, I've never seen two people more compatible," Theo gushed, his words painting a picture of shifting dynamics, that Harry never picked up on.
"I've noticed none of that," Harry said flatly.
"Then you aren't paying attention," Theo replied with a wide smile.
Harry didn’t like that. Hermione had always said he could be oblivious to those around him. He felt selfish at the comment as if she was calling him out for not noticing the small details in his friends' lives.
Ron had been nicer to Parkinson at Halloween, and Malfoy and Hermione seemed to exchange a lot of casual glances between them, almost like they were speaking in code.
And then there was Zabini. He had been a shadow over Ginny at Halloween, protectively. Harry hadn’t noticed it, hadn’t noticed the looks she was giving him until Theo had mentioned it.
What had happened during their hunts that made Zabini feel so protective over her? She always hated it when Harry tried to be protective of her. Why hadn’t she snapped at Blaise? Well, he guessed she did – she smashed a Bludger in his face.
Theo pulled a piece of parchment from his pocket as the minutes to 8:00 PM counted down. Harry had been so lost in thought that he forgot to even feel anxious as he watched Theo roll the parchment between his fingers. Then, with a snap, it erupted, the same glowing etching happening all over again.
“In a journey to fathom another's plight,
Peer past the woods, where secrets take flight.
Consult the bees, the leaves, the overlooked,
In their whispers, truths are tucked.”
Harry read the words out loud and then reread them. "Why did it all have to be fucking riddles?"
"I know how much you hate riddles, Potter, but this one seems even easier than the first," Theo remarked, rolling back the parchment.
"The beehives in Greenhouse Six?" Harry shot back, recalling the countless times he had waited for Ginny after Herbology as she cut chunks of honeycomb and wrapped them in wax paper.
"Clever," Theo smiled.
"I'm not an idiot, Nott," Harry snapped back.
"I'm very aware of that," Theo retorted sharply.
"We'll start there. I'm not sure what the bit about the leaves means, but I'm positive by the end of the night we'll understand each other even more than we already do. And since, like you demanded, we do this the right way, after you..." Theo sneered, holding out his arm for Harry to lead the way out of the castle.
Harry rolled his eyes and walked past Nott, who quickly rebounded beside him. It felt like almost nothing could rattle Theo, always wielding his shield of indifference, yet Harry knew that between moments, he saw glimpses of a different Theo, one that intrigued Harry more than the one he always saw.
"You don't think I'm observant?" Harry finally asked.
"I think you see a lot of things. Maybe you're just not reading the subtleties of those moments," Theo pressed.
"What do you think I'm missing? Because it seems like every time we have a conversation, I'm a step behind," Harry countered.
"I'll make you a deal. I'll tell you a secret if you tell me one," Theo joked.
"I don't have any secrets," Harry spat back, though he knew that wasn't necessarily true. But he doubted there were any secrets that Theo would actually care about.
"We all have secrets, Potter," Theo winked as he pushed open the large wooden doors marking the exit toward the grounds that led to the Greenhouses. The sky was foggy, mist hung in the air, and the wind howled.
Harry was thankful for his jumper as the wind hit his cheeks. Theo didn't seem to mind the cold and continued to pace beside him as they walked toward the long stretch of greenhouses tucked underneath the castle walls.
Harry pushed open the door to Greenhouse Six, revealing its empty darkness. Both Harry and Theo cast Lumos spells, illuminating the space. Harry walked toward the right-hand side of the greenhouse, the plants moving away from the light he cast, while the humming of the hives filled the air.
Theo was almost crawling on the floor between tangles of plants and vines that cascaded around him.
Harry thought he looked a bit of an idiot the way he was moving.
"Potter, come here!" Theo shouted over the loud humming.
Harry approached and looked down, noticing leaves from one of the plants blowing on the ground, yet no wind seemed to be making them move.
"That's strange. What kind of leaves are those?" he asked as Theo reached down to touch them.
As soon as Theo grasped the leaf in his hand, the thrumming of the bees grew louder, and they began to swarm out of their hives, enveloping them.
Both boys started swatting at them, but before they could react further, the bees formed a long line leading toward the door. Just as Theo was about to use his wand, the bees shifted, forming a path toward the exit.
Without hesitation, Harry blasted the door off its hinges, hoping to clear a path. "Follow them!" he roared, dashing out of the greenhouse, his heart racing as he pursued the line leading toward the darkness of the forest up ahead.
Harry didn't like being led into the forest. Each time he had ventured into its depths, he had encountered something horrifying – giant spiders, giants, centaurs, and Voldemort himself, twice. As they ran, he felt a sense of dread creeping over him, amplified by the memories of the past.
He heard Theo's long strides behind him as they breached the treeline, diving into the darkness. Theo's Lumos spell illuminated the way as they kept running, pushing past branches and jumping over roots and shrubs in their path. Harry's heart raced with each step.
As suddenly as they had entered, they stumbled into a clearing. It was an empty circle void of trees, except for one large oak with a massive trunk anchored in the dirt.
The bees had stopped and were swarming around the roots. Moonlight filtered through the gaps in the clouds, casting a grim glow over the moss-covered forest floor.
Theo panted behind Harry as they both stood silently in the clearing.
"A tree? That's it?" Theo exclaimed, still catching his breath.
"There needs to be more," Harry replied, creeping closer to the oak. He examined every inch, searching for a trace of something that would give away its purpose.
Theo followed close behind, his breathing steadying. "Should we touch it?" he asked, hesitantly.
"I'm not sure... maybe?" Harry responded awkwardly.
Steeling himself, Harry moved forward. He was a Gryffindor, after all.
His hands felt the sturdy bark underneath his calloused palms. Suddenly, the roots began to rumble, and the bark pushed back inside itself, collapsing. Like a train on a track, a large circular basin pivoted, and instantly Harry knew what he was dealing with.
"You Must Choose Who You Let In. It Can Only Be One." Theo whispered looking up at the leaking sap now dripping down the trunk.
"I'd hoped I didn't have to look into one of these again," Harry grumbled as he looked down at the Pensieve.
"You've used one? I've only ever seen them from a distance when they were harvesting memories..." Theo peered into the swirling incandescent lights.
"I've used one," Harry replied darkly.
"Potter, I know you said you wanted to do this right, but it looks like we're going to have to choose one of our minds to delve into, and neither of those options seems like an exciting prospect. Are you sure you don't want to blow it up?"
"Nott, we can't just keep blowing shit up... I told you we're doing this right!" Harry rounded on him, gulping hard.
Theo was right – neither of their memories was going to be a pleasant trip down memory lane. But Harry insisted on doing it right, and he felt like he should be the one to open that vault.
"We can go with mine," Harry pushed.
"Oh, fun... what a treat, thank you," Theo grimaced, putting his sarcastic mask back on.
"Well, did you want to go into yours?" Harry shot back.
"At least I'm prepared for what I'm about to see." Theo huffed finally.
Harry looked back over toward Theo, suddenly nervous. Yet, he nodded, and they shared a knowing glance. Theo gave one final half-smirk as they plunged their faces into the basin.
He landed with that familiar sensation he had always hated from his journeys with Dumbledore.
This time, he landed heavily in what looked like a dormitory room. The hangings were emerald, silver, and black, giving the room a dark, foreboding atmosphere.
The circular room was furnished with heavy rich walnut dressers and desks, and the only source of light came from a small port-hole window, casting a greenish hue.
Nott was sitting at one of the desks, and Malfoy, his white-blond hair disheveled, burst through the door. His face was contorted in anger, with deep bruise-like circles under his eyes, and Harry recognized the scene instantly. It was sixth year.
"Nott, you better tell me right now it's a fucking lie!" Malfoy slammed his fist down on the desk where Theo was sitting, his expression calm as he met Draco's gaze.
Harry had seen Draco angry, but he hadn’t ever seen him seething with this type of rage.
"What are you on about, Malfoy?" Theo drawled
"Show me your arm!" Draco was inches from his face now.
"Oh, you mean our best friend's tattoos?" Theo smirked, rolling up his arm to showcase his Dark Mark, the ink fresh, the serpent black as obsidian.
Draco was on Theo before Harry could even blink, his hand around Theo’s throat as he threw him against the wall, his eyes twisted in rage.
"You think this is a fucking joke, Theo?!" Draco snapped.
Through grated breaths, Theo gasped, "No, but I'm finally in control."
Draco released him from his grasp. "You're a fucking moron to think that you'll ever have control again."
The vision blurred in front of him, and Harry and Theo now stood in a dimly lit room. It was cavernous, with massive portraits of haughty-looking wizards hanging on the walls. There were at least eight others in the room besides Theo, all dressed in black robes.
"Death Eaters," Harry noted grimly.
"Did you bring the filth?" one grizzled older man growled, as another floated in a chained and gagged Muggle man, blood caked on his face.
Harry watched as Theo's eyes hardened, his face emotionless as he stared up at the man.
"The only survivor of the village we sacked, the one that was known to be where Shacklebolt was hiding. Dumb Muggles didn't even realize wizards had been there," a man laughed, and the room echoed with sinful laughter.
"Did you get the information out of him that we needed?" the tall, malevolent figure standing beside Theo said, his voice cold, calculated.
"He knows nothing, Tiberius," the man casting the Muggle in the air spat back. Tiberius, Theo's father. Harry noted.
Tiberius nodded and then looked toward his son.
"Kill him," he said casually.
The Muggle man screamed against his bonds, and Harry could only watch as Theo's eyes widened toward his father, a brief moment of panic flickering silently across his irises. However, Theo's expression remained impassive as he took a steadying gulp. When he raised his wand arm, it didn't shake.
The flash of green light shot them back onto the hard ground of the forest floor.
Harry's eyes took a moment to realize where they were, as he looked up toward the moon, still hiding behind shadows. The tree sap burned bright as "24 minutes and 12 seconds" showed on the bark.
"Well, that wasn't even the worst of it. 24 minutes and 12 seconds, not bad." Theo was up on his feet, brushing off the dust and dead leaves from the ground as he reached out a hand toward Harry.
“Nott…… your father made you kill muggles?" Harry felt disgusted at the memory, the way Theo stood there, one of them.
But was he? Harry knew that look of panic in Theo’s eyes, saw the look of disdain, the look of horror. He had seen it all too much in Narcissa’s eyes, Draco’s, and even at times Lucius, Snape's.
"Countless times, like I said before, Potter... I'm not sad he's dead," Theo said so casually, of Tiberius.
Harry pushed Theo's hand away and got up to his feet on his own, the look of hurt washing across Theo’s face momentarily.
"I told you we should have Bombarda'd it," he shot back.
"I told you we could have gone into my memories," Harry retorted.
"Why? To show me all the righteous and brave things you've done in situations of horror? The things I should have done in those moments with my father? Like I need to feel like less of a person in front of you than I already do," Theo moved closer, his mask coming down, showing emotions he desperately tried to hide.
Harry stepped closer to match Theo.
"I did things I had to do to survive. It wasn’t always righteous or heroic; it was necessary to save my life, my friends' lives, my family's lives. You might have made the wrong choices, but so have I, many times, and without the right person guiding me I could have gone down a different path.” Harry said, surprised by his own words.
He had let go of so much hate and resentment the moment he had watched Snape’s memories last May, understanding that the journeys they took to get here weren’t easy ones.
“I hate how good of a person you are, Potter” Theo said back in a whisper, a wicked smile that gave Harry a shiver, something about Theo gave Harry a feeling that he couldn’t ignore and he was so confused by it.
Like he was constantly picking at a scab that he didn’t want to open, knowing that Theo could be an influence to set him free from the chains he felt like he had worn his whole life.
“ That memory will die with me,” Harry added, hoping to ease some of Theos’ tension.
“Just my luck, you never seem to die...,” Theo turned and began to walk back up the path.
Hermione was sitting on her bed, re-reading the thesis of Cleopatra the Alchemist, fascinated by everything written. She couldn’t take her eyes off it.
She felt greedy for asking Draco to take her to the Manor’s library, knowing the feelings he had stirred within her could be pushing a line. Draco had been honest about how he felt about her, and she didn’t want to give him any indication that a move would be welcomed.
Did she think about it? Yes. Did she wish she wouldn’t? Yes. She thought about his hands, his lips, his body all over hers, what’d he feel like….but she wouldn’t succumb, couldn’t succumb.
She was with Ron.
A heavy, frantic knocking jolted her awake, disrupting her thoughts.
It couldn't have been Harry; he and Theo were out on their Scavenger Hunt. Nor could it be Ron; he was in the library with Seamus, working on their Transfiguration essay, and there was no way he had already completed it.
The persistent knocking continued, and Hermione glanced at her clock—it was almost 9:30 PM.
She made her way to the door, opening it to find Ginny pushing past her in a flash of long, flowing red hair. Ginny paced back and forth, chewing her nails, her cheeks flushed, her hair somewhat tangled, her skin flushed, and her neck... her neck.
"Ginny, what's that?" Hermione blurted out, noticing what appeared to be a love bite under her ear.
"Hermione, I know this puts you in an uncomfortable spot, and I hate to burden you, but I need to tell someone," Ginny pressed, weaving her way between stacks of books.
"Gin, you can tell me anything... I'm your friend too," Hermione urged
"I slept with Blaise..." Ginny blurted out.
Hermione felt like her ears were playing tricks on her; perhaps she had fallen asleep and this was all a dream. "Zabini? Blaise Zabini?"
Ginny nodded, still nervously chewing her nail. "Yes, that's him."
Hermione struggled to maintain her composure. "Oh, okay... How did this happen?"
"After our hunt yesterday, we shagged. And then again…. just now, in his room," Ginny admitted, finally settling onto a bench.
"Gin, I thought you hated Zabini?" Hermione questioned,
"I do," Ginny responded quickly. "Well, I don't," she quickly corrected herself. "He's been hitting on me all year. I don't know if you noticed him hanging all over me in Hogsmeade. He's been saying how he's watched me for years, thought about me for years... I can't explain why I did it, but we kissed after the first Hunt, then yesterday… I saw this different side of him. It felt freeing... It's all been so confusing." She was busting.
“You kissed him after the first Hunt? Ginny... did you break up with Harry for Zabini?" Hermione asked, shocked.
"No... I don't think so. I just didn't feel like myself with Harry anymore. Or maybe I felt like a version of myself I'd always been obligated to be..but... with Blaise... it’s like seeing myself for the first time. It was spontaneous and sexy. I felt like a goddess. And the sex, Hermione, the sex..." Ginny's voice trailed off. "I don't know what it is. Maybe it's just a rebound, and I'm getting this all out of my system. But it feels absolutely brilliant," Ginny added, her words oozing with a sense of liberation.
Hermione still couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She had never heard Ginny talk like this before. While she knew Ginny and Harry had been intimate, their discussions on the matter had always been matter-of-fact.
Ginny had never wanted to know about Ron, and Hermione had never wanted to know about Harry. But now, it was someone new, someone unexpected.
Hermione couldn't deny that Zabini was attractive. His family seemed like royalty, and each feature on his face and body appeared perfect. She had seen him shirtless on the night of Halloween, and she knew Ginny had too.
"I... I don’t know what to say. That’s... exciting? Do you like him?" Hermione's voice trembled slightly.
"I haven't allowed myself to think about that. Right now, I'm just riding it out... literally and figuratively," Ginny replied with a hint of humor.
Hermione couldn't help but laugh at that. She was happy for Ginny, but she couldn't shake the worry for Harry if he ever found out. Still, she hadn’t seen this side of Ginny in so long—not since the war, not since Harry actually.
"Please, keep this between us," Ginny urged.
"You don't need to worry," Hermione assured her.
"I couldn’t stand the thought of Ron... or Harry finding out. It'd be like another Battle of Hogwarts all over again," Ginny said with a small smile.
"Do you think he's told anyone?" Hermione's thoughts immediately went to Draco, always to Draco.
"I told him not to, but Theo is always smirking at me," Ginny said with a roll of her eyes.
"Theo smirks at everyone. I wouldn't necessarily assume he knows," Hermione added.
"I'm glad I can still talk to you," Ginny expressed.
"Ginny, I'm your friend too. You can always talk to me," Hermione reassured her.
"'Mione, you can always talk to me too, you know that. I know Ron is my brother, but you'll always be like a sister to me no matter what happens," Ginny affirmed,
Hermione lay on her bed for a long time, thinking about Ginny's situation. She felt a twinge of envy—Ginny was strong, even fearless. Hermione thought Ginny's decision to end things with Harry was brave, and her falling into whatever this was with Zabini was her seizing what she wanted, following her desires.
Hermione loved Harry like a brother, but if he and Ginny didn't work out, she was happy for Ginny regardless of her decisions.
There would undoubtedly be consequences if anyone found out, and Hermione was keenly aware of that. But Ginny would always have her, Ron and her family to fall back on.
If Hermione allowed herself to let loose, to be free, to take risks, and to act on her emotions, she would lose everyone.
Chapter 17: Acceptance
Chapter Text
- Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger – 19 minutes and 5 seconds
- Ronald Weasley and Pansy Parkinson – 34 minutes and 23 seconds
- Lisa Turpin and Anthony Goldstein – 36 minutes and 10 seconds
- Parvati Patil and Seamus Finnegan – 37 minutes and 5 seconds
- Blaise Zabini and Ginevra Weasley – 39 minutes and 20 seconds
Draco glanced at the current standings as he made his way from the Great Hall on Thursday evening. Apart from Blaise and Ginny, everyone who was listed hadn't yet begun their second hunt. But now he knew what time they had to beat to surpass Ginny and Blaise—they had 20 minutes.
They could beat 20 minutes.
Harry and Theo were scheduled to go tonight. Theo appeared to be in high spirits at dinner, and oddly enough, so did Blaise.
Blaise had been acting like a fucking lunatic since last night, smiling at people, being polite to those who bumped into him in the corridors. It was sickening to watch.
Draco strolled back to his room, absorbed in reading his portion of the thesis from Paracelsus. He was slated to work with Granger on their Alchemy project for the next month, until the Christmas holidays.
He had been pleasantly surprised when he realized she wanted to visit the Malfoy Library. He felt like an idiot for even asking the first time, but when she agreed, he felt a jolt of electricity course through his entire body. Granger, in his library—watching her brain churn and reading all day—it was a mesmerizing thought.
He loved watching her mess her hair up in a bun, then letting it cascade down again when she stretched. He had noticed it in the Common Room, but he avoided their Common Room like the plague. He despised watching the Weasel touch her. At first, it had been a slight annoyance, but now it felt like acid burning in his eyes.
Friends, he had asked for. Pathetic. He was utterly pathetic, falling all over someone who was dating Ron Weasley? He hated himself. If the fourth-year Malfoy could see him now, he was pretty sure he'd bully himself for being such a spectacular twat.
He first noticed Hermione in a different light at the Yule Ball. He remembered Pansy calling him out for looking at a "mudblood," and he was repulsed at the idea, shoving it down. If anyone ever knew then what she stirred in him as she walked arm in arm with Krum, he would have been Crucio'd to death.
He thought that was the first time he ever looked at her with desire. Then, of course, the morning when she was wearing the black nightie—he loved that one.
The beginning of this year maybe it was just lust, but the more he watched her, the more she opened up to him, he knew it was more than that. She had become a fragment of him, a piece he didn't know he needed, and he'd take anything to keep her there.
If that was what friendship meant, then he'd torture himself forever by watching her love another man. He hoped that man wouldn't always be Weasley.
Draco didn't deserve her, he knew that, but damn, he was selfish enough to continue to try.
Draco's eyes felt heavy as he glanced over at his clock, realizing he still had another two hours of reading ahead of him. He wondered if he could ask Granger for one of those Muggle drinks.
It was slightly after 9:30 PM when Zabini burst through his door, slightly sweating and smelling of sweet flowers. His eyes were dilated, making him look crazed, which was becoming discomfortingly normal for Blaise.
"What do you want, Zabini?" Draco's eyebrow shot up as Blaise threw himself down on his chaise.
"I need you to be cool about something if I tell you,” He breathed quickly.
"When am I not cool about something?" Draco shot back.
"Almost always," Zabini laughed quickly in response.
Draco shot him a scathing look at his lackluster response.
"I've slept with Ginevra," he said casually.
"You mean….. in your dreams?" Draco was honestly perplexed. What was this about?
"In my dreams, in the woods, and now in my bed."
"Wait, are you being serious?" Draco moved, actually standing up and looking into Blaise's eyes for any sign of a lie.
"I'm so serious," Zabini said with a small grin.
"How... how the fuck did that happen?" Draco was floored. The she-weasel, Prince Potter's ex-girlfriend, had slept with Blaise? There was no way. It didn’t make any sense.
"Merlin finally answered a prayer... I know I've been pushing the line ever since we've been partnered, but I didn't actually think for a moment she'd want it" Blaise said in a surprised tone.
"And you're sure she does?" Draco asked hesitantly.
"I just had her bouncing on top of me, Malfoy. She wants it..."
"Fucking hell, Zabini... I do not need to picture that," Draco rolled his eyes.
Ginny Weasley and Blaise? He couldn’t get over it. She was with Potter, destined to be together, just like Hermione and Ron. They made the perfect war hero couplings. The thought of Ginny being with a Slytherin after everything that happened in the last two years was such a devious thought. One that pushed the boundaries of what he thought he could achieve with Hermione.
Zabini had been bluntly forward, direct. That comment at Halloween was downright vulgar. Draco knew that wasn’t his personal style, but it seemed to work for the Weaslette.
But what would work for Granger? Should he try harder?
He wouldn’t even know what to do with himself if she gave herself to him.
He knew exactly what he wanted to do, every angle he wanted to see her in, but that thought was only meant for the late hours of the night.
"You can't tell Nott, or Parkinson, or Greengrass," Zabini pushed, his tone more severe.
"I wouldn't tell Greengrass anything, she's got a big mouth... but Nott will know just by the way you've been acting today."
"I can't have Potter finding out. The last thing I want is the Weasel and Potter on my throat. They'd fucking 'Avada' me if they knew what I was doing to her, how much more I still want to do to her," Zabini continued.
"You're going to need to tone that down, mate, for my sake." Draco thought he was about to gag.
Blaise just laughed as he pushed up off the lounge chair.
"So you're just going to sneak around with her until she gets bored with you and goes back to Potter?" Draco added at Blaise's silence.
"I'm going to let her use and abuse me as long as she likes. I've wanted her for almost three years," Blaise pushed back. “If she goes back to Potter after me, then so be it. I didn't work hard enough. It will be my own fault," he finished.
Draco stared back at his friend. That might have been the smartest thing Zabini ever said.
Was Draco working hard enough? Would Granger leave Weasley? If she did, he'd make sure that he'd never lose her. She'd forever be his.
His.
Fuck being friends.
Draco stayed up until the wee hours of the morning, only getting small doses of sleep as Thursday turned into Friday. He had made his decision. He was actively going to try to win Hermione Granger over.
Zabini was right. Fuck friends, fuck the Weasel. He'd be the man she needed him to be, the man she deserved.
They were going on their Scavenger Hunt late Friday night, but he still had to make it through two classes until then.
Undoubtedly, the Common Room would be full of fire whiskey, butterbeer, and Exploding Snap as Hermione and he walked down to their meeting spot. But Draco preferred being alone with her.
Whatever this task was, it couldn’t be overly difficult if it allowed Zabini to shag the Weaslette right afterward. A thought that still astounded Draco, but it was the reality kick he needed.
Ginny wasn't Hermione though. Granger was righteous. She'd want to do the right thing, regardless of how much Draco could make her squirm or make her blood run hot.
But he was an itch she wanted to scratch, and Draco could tell, she felt it too, she had too.
Theo's mood had been sour all morning. Whatever happened on his hunt, it clearly didn’t go as well as Zabini’s. That's what Draco was stuck on. He doubted he’d get an outcome like Blaise's, but he really hoped he wasn’t going to get one like Theo's. Somewhere in the middle, leaning more towards Zabini’s.
It was a double period of Potions. Granger sat a few rows ahead, sandwiched between Weasley and Potter like she always was. She spent most of her time bouncing between the two of them, helping them dissect portions of their textbooks or stirring their cauldrons the correct way.
Idiots, the both of them. How did the three of them take down the Dark Lord? Most of it must have been Granger. Weasley couldn’t figure out how to make fucking Polyjuice Potion.
Draco observed her between shallowed huffs from Theo, and Pansy’s snide comments on the smell of the frogspawn. Ron would lean over and brush her, and she’d pull away slightly, or he’d place his hand on her back and she would lean closer to Potter. Something about it didn’t look comfortable for her, not like when they were at parties, Weasley’s hands dripping all over her. Draco would use that.
When the bell rang, and it was finally time for dinner, all he could think about was seeing Hermione in a few hours. Alone. But he had to still keep his head. Yes, he wanted to spend as much time with her as possible, but at the same time, it couldn’t be longer than 20 minutes. They’d need to push for that top spot.
He’d still win. He desperately still wanted to win. He'd also need to figure out how to convince Granger to let him use that chalice, but that was a delicate dance he'd save for another day. One hunt at a time.
Draco spent a long time in the shower that evening, fucking with his hair longer than he’d like to admit. He sprayed his cologne, the one he knew she liked. He always watched her inhale deeply when he’d walked past. He opted for casual trousers and a jumper. He hated himself for deliberating so long on which one looked more casual; like he had just thrown it all together.
He was leaning against the brick wall, gazing out at the grounds below through a turret window. Everything seemed calm, so peaceful, when he felt the prickling underneath, like a warm drop of pleasure under his skin.
He knew it was her before he even turned around. He recognized her by her smell, the way her foot fell on the ground, by the sound of her breaths.
"Malfoy," her voice dripped from her lips as he turned around to look at her.
Her cheeks flushed in the peony color he liked, her hair wild, her eyes swirled like a freshly pulled shot of espresso.
"Granger," he drawled back, loving the sparkle in her eyes when she heard her surname coming from his mouth.
"20 minutes," she said coolly, stating a fact.
"20 minutes," he responded casually, casually.
"Has Zabini told you anything? Let something slip?" she inquired.
Draco almost choked at the innuendo, no doubt she wasn’t aware of it, but he kept his composure.
"Nothing of importance," he replied smoothly.
She nodded, but the way her eyes darted, not meeting his, gave away that she knew too.
"You have the parchment?" she moved closer to him, bridging the gap.
He wanted to draw her even closer, clutching the parchment that would light up with the clue as close as he could, just to feel her warmth.
"Potter hasn’t said anything? Theo has been worse for wear. I haven’t seen him this moody in a long time. It’s unlike him," he remarked.
"Harry hasn’t been himself lately either, but that may have more to do with Ginny than Theo. I should ask. I’ve been trying to ensure both of them don’t feel like I’m choosing a side," Hermione replied as her mind was spiraling.
He shouldn’t have brought it up.
"It seems like the Weaslette is doing just fine," he probed.
"What do you mean by that?" her eyes darted to his. Oh, she knows.
"I just mean I’ve seen her walking the corridors, in class. She seems... happier?" he pressed.
"Oh well, I think this decision was the best one for them, for now," Hermione replied.
"For now?"
"She’ll end up with Harry... they just need time to work this out," she concluded.
Interesting, Draco thought. Hermione clearly knew about Blaise but still was confident she’d end up with Potter.
"I’ve never seen someone who was meant to be with someone look so happy to be rid of them, but what would I know," Draco leaned in, his lips closer to her ears as the scent of lilacs drifted into his senses.
The parchment began to unravel, the heat in Draco’s hand rising as he opened it, the golden writing staining into black.
“In a journey to fathom another's plight,
Peer past the woods, where secrets take flight.
Consult the bees, the leaves, the overlooked,
In their whispers, truths are tucked.”
It took them seconds to read, and their faces turned to each other, both with devilish grins.
“15 minutes, Malfoy,” Hermione smiled a smile that Draco had seen only a few times before. She loved winning. And so did he.
Her legs moved before his, and they were racing down the steps toward the greenhouses. Bees. Greenhouse Six.
No wonder the times weren’t that long yet; this clue seemed too easy. Too easy. Then the anxiety took hold, right as they rounded to the exit toward the grounds. If this clue was too easy, it meant what lay at the end wouldn’t be.
Hermione reached the door first, finding it unlocked. As they entered the greenhouse, Draco felt his apprehension rising in his chest. It was dark and silent inside. He went in first, casting Lumos to illuminate their surroundings, while Hermione walked closer to the hive, anticipating the buzzing that would fill the voids in the air.
Draco walked toward the rows of plants, his light casting shadows across the moss-covered floors.
“Granger, this seems too easy,” he said, his voice thick with unease.
“I know... something is off,” she added, scanning the greenhouse with him.
“Malfoy,” she whispered, leaning down at the end of a workbench. Draco moved his wand, lighting a small pile of leaves blowing around the ground.
There was no wind in the air; it was a still night. The moon was high, the air chilled, and frost had just settled on the grass.
She began to reach down, and he grabbed her arm.
“Don’t,” he said firmly, his eyes meeting hers. “We’re in this together now, Granger,” he meant it, and he wanted her to know it.
He kept his hand on hers, feeling her pulse rapidly beating underneath his clasped fingers. Her breath slowed as his eyes left hers and they reached down together, her fingers wrapping around a leaf. It wasn’t dead like the ones withering outside, but alive, soft.
The humming around them intensified. At first, he thought it was just in his mind as his hand still gripped hers, but then the bees dove from their hives and began to spin wildly around them.
He pulled Hermione closer, her face against his chest as he protectively wrapped her head in his arms. She didn’t tear away, she didn’t move. She let him hold her there as the bees swarmed around them, and within an instant, as quickly as they had come, they were gone, trailing toward the exit.
Draco shot his wand back toward the white-latched door.
“We need to go,” he said quickly, finally breaking her connection from his body. He felt her eyes dizzy as he grabbed her hand and led her toward the door, where the bees were moving.
They ran, Draco with Hermione's hand in his, the burning sensation fueling the adrenaline building in his body as they took strides toward the Forest.
That’s where they were being led. He didn’t even have time to feel panic; the reassuring feeling of Hermione's hand wouldn't let him.
They crested into the darkness in an instant, the foreboding of the woods enveloping them, a small animal path covered in roots and debris.
Draco made sure to be in front of her at all times, moving branches and alerting her to roots in the ground as they continued after the humming.
He would look up and see patches of the moon, illuminating through the canopies of the treetops, until there were no more treetops.
It was just an open vastness. A clearing. In the center stood a large oak tree, rooted as if it had stood thousands of years before the rest, and the bees danced around it.
Hermione’s ragged breaths filled the night air with clouds of hot breath into the cool night.
“Revelio,” she shouted pointing her wand tip at the tree, but the tree stood its ground.
“Really?” Draco couldn’t help the snide comment. She was smarter than that.
“Well, I don’t know. It’s a tree. Are we even in the right spot?” she retorted.
“Not everything is logic, Granger... sometimes it’s about feeling. Does this feel right?” He asked, his heart pounding, as he moved toward the tree.
Hermione Granger was logical, he knew, but he was trying to pull the strings that moved behind that big brain of hers.
She nodded, a nod hiding a million thoughts, a million ways to say yes, as they both moved delicately toward the tree.
“Feel it,” he said in a dark whisper. Her eyes filled with moonlight, her lips red from the cold.
He grabbed her hands in his again, delicate and warm, and placed them on the bark of the tree, spreading her fingers underneath his. She was so close to him now, pushed against her.
He understood Zabini and Ginny; this was intimate. It was raw. They were alone in the darkness, shaded by the forbiddance of the forest. His entire body felt the craving to grab her, kiss her, but the shaking of the bark underneath their hands broke the spell.
The bark pushed back and like a track pivoted. Dark sap began leaking onto their hands that still pressed on the tree, and a small marble basin formed at the base.
"You Must Choose Who You Let In. It Can Only Be One."
Hermione breathed the words, as Draco was stunned by the incandescent light emanating from the swirling basin. It was an ethereal glow in the blackness of the forest.
“It needs to be one of us,” Hermione breathed, looking into the Pensieve.
Draco felt a knot form in his stomach. He knew the end of the task would be fucking hell. He wanted to be the man she deserved, the man who should volunteer to dive into his memories. He didn’t want to have to ask her to take this hit. That wasn’t what Malfoy men did. But he was terrified of what she’d see.
She’d hate him.
She’d never be able to understand the things he did during the war, and she’d hate him for it. He'd ruin everything he had worked so hard for. She’d never look at him again.
“We’ll go in mine,” she erupted from the stillness of the air, snapping Draco out of his thoughts.
“No.. we can go in mine,” he breathed back, although he might have been unconvincing.
“I don’t want to see her any more than I already do,” Draco understood who she was talking about. Bellatrix. His body felt like it had been shot through. He had trained with Bellatrix for almost two years; she was a constant presence in his most guarded memories.
“If you insist,” he growled back.
He didn’t know what to expect. He had seen images of her happiest place: the Weasleys’ family home, her lying in the field with Ron, Harry, and Ginny. She had let him in once, and she was letting him in again.
He wished he could be as trusting.
She grabbed his hand, and warmth surged back into his bloodstream. She squeezed, and as he looked over at her, he saw such softness in her eyes.
Without hesitation, without thought, they both leaned down and as if falling from a towering building, he landed hard on the ground of a garden. The sun was high in the sky, birds were chirping, and there was a quaint three-story home nestled between tall hedges. A man and a woman were knelt in the shrubbery, picking weeds and laughing.
“Hermione, dear, come outside and enjoy the day,” the woman yelled back. Draco noticed Hermione standing underneath the pergola, her face red with tears, her trunk levitating behind her, her wand raised.
Her parents, he realized.
She looked determined through the pain on her face as she cast the incantation. The air stilled, the breeze stopped, and the birds ceased singing. The faces and bodies of the man and woman froze, petrified. Hermione disappeared within an instant, Draco following her as the vision vanished, and they were in another place.
In a dingy tent, the air was stale, and rain fell heavily outside. Draco felt his veins run cold as he watched Hermione, her shield charm up, Potter on one side and the Weasley on the other, a large locket swinging from his neck. All three of them looked haggard, faces dirty, clothes ragged. Hermione looked thin, too thin. It had to have been last year, Draco thought.
The screams from the trio were unclear in Draco’s ears like the memory hadn’t finished forming, until he heard the enraged voice of Weasley.
“Are you staying with him then?!” he spat, his face twisted in rage as he stared at Hermione. Draco watched her face sink, torn.
She stood silent, he turned, and the tent flap opened. Draco followed as the Hermione in the vision did, suddenly screaming in the darkness of the foreign wood as the rain poured down.
“RON!” she screamed through sobs.
“RON! Please don’t! Don’t go,” she begged, and Draco felt the urge to punch the past Weasley in the face. He was so angry as he watched Hermione pleading on the wet ground, while Ron turned and vanished.
Draco was back in the tent, Hermione curled by a book, her eyes still red from tears. She was saying something to Harry, who looked even worse than he had in the first vision. He was grasping Hermione’s wand, Draco noted.
“I’m doing everything I can.” She pleaded.
“You aren’t doing enough!!” he screamed back at her, as she looked broken at his words.
The vision vanished, and Draco’s eyes struggled to regain clarity. All he saw was a glowing orb in the sky, and then finally, the sounds of breeze and forest came back to him. He turned over to see the sap dripping again – the time.
“18 minutes and 35 seconds,” Hermione stated, her voice trembling slightly.
He rolled over, his insides churning with a fury that threatened to consume him, to see Hermione sitting upright, tears staining her cheeks as she gasped for air.
Draco's muscles coiled with an intense, seething hatred. How dare Weasley abandon her like that? How could Potter, after all she had sacrificed for him, treat her with such disregard?
They were blind to her worth, and Draco was enraged with disgust at their obliviousness. He struggled to contain the venom in his voice as he forced himself to appear composed for her sake.
“Weasley left?!” he yelled, his voice dripping with contempt.
"You don’t understand, he was wearing the Horcrux, his family was in danger," she said, her words barely audible between gasps for air.
"Don’t you dare make excuses for them, Granger," Draco spat her name like a curse, snapping her out of her daze.
"You weren’t there, and he came back... all he wanted to do was come back," she sobbed.
Draco's rage surged even higher. The Weasel was already on his third chance? After Lavender, after abandoning her? How much more abuse would she endure from him?
Yes, Draco had committed atrocious acts himself, allowing her to suffer without intervening, hurling insults at her, but Weasley did all this under the guise of what? Friendship? Love?
"You've given enough! You’ve given them too much, and they take it for granted, they expect it from you," he roared, fueled by his inner dragon.
He knew he shouldn't let this outburst consume him, shouldn't be consumed by anger, but his fury wasn't directed at her.
"Do you love him?" The question slipped from his lips before he could halt it, hanging heavy in the air.
"He's my best friend, they are my best friends," she murmured.
"Do you love him?" he repeated.
"If I lose Ron, I have nobody... you saw it! My parents are gone, the healers say I may never get them back, you saw everything. He's my anchor, Ron, Harry, the Weasleys... If I lose him, I've lost everything," she cried.
He moved toward her, enveloping her in his arms, her weight heavy against him, the moonlight casting a haunting glow over their entwined figures.
She didn’t resist, she let him take her, as they sat there, the fury within him slowly ebbed away.
"I know I’ll never deserve you, but neither does he…” Draco's voice trailed off, his gaze fixed on the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest. “I'd try every damn day, to give you everything I have... you don’t need to fear being alone," he admitted, surprising even himself.
He was willing to do what Blaise had done, be honest.
Brutal honesty that he knew would only wound him further when she inevitably returned to the castle, to Ron.
To fucking Weasley.
She turned in his embrace, their faces mere inches apart, and it was as if a shockwave coursed through him, realizing he could see the intricate details of her perfect lips, the myriad shades of brown in her eyes.
His breath mingled with hers, their closeness surreal yet undeniably real. She allowed him to hold her, to anchor her at that moment.
Gently, Draco threaded his fingers through her hair, cupping her face. Did she want this? Did she crave it as fervently as he did?
"I’m more terrified of what I feel right now, between us,” Hermione confessed, her voice trembling, her eyes locking with his “More terrified of what I feel for you than I have in my entire life," she admitted, her heartbeat thundering in her chest.
"You hold the power to completely shatter me, Granger, and I'd be so willing to let you,”
Chapter 18: My Hero
Notes:
TW - body image, and body shaming ahead.
Chapter Text
Hermione made her way back to the castle with Draco by her side, every step a struggle as she tore herself away from him on the grass in the forest.
She had meant every word she said; the feelings she had for him were all-consuming, relentless. Each attempt to push them aside only seemed to amplify their intensity.
But she couldn’t allow herself to succumb to her desires. She couldn’t betray Ron like that.
Draco had helped her to her feet, and though they had beat Ginny and Blaise's time, it didn’t feel like a win.
She had let him see her, bared her soul time and time again, yet he still carried himself in a veil of secrecy, as if she didn’t already know what Draco was trying to avoid.
Hermione understood that she would have to confront this with Ron. While she hadn't allowed her physical desires to overtake her, she couldn't deny the emotional infidelity that was pulling at her. She had admitted the truth to herself and to Draco, and she knew he wouldn't relent now that he knew.
He would only become more determined to invade her thoughts, her space, and her heart.
Despite her feelings for Draco, she still loved Ron, albeit not in the way he deserved or perhaps in the way he loved her. A moment's slip into Draco's arms would plunge her into a world she’d never be able to emerge from. She knew that if she surrendered herself to him, she'd be his entirely.
She needed to grasp the weight of what that meant—for her friends, for her life. It wasn't a decision she could make lightly.
Draco walked slightly beside her. It still felt surreal that Draco Malfoy would ever confess that she could shatter his soul.
She reflected on the times she had felt self-conscious in his presence, but not now, not since the day he had grabbed her arm, and rubbed her scar. There was a potency to his touch.
He was giving her space, allowing her time to think, yet she could almost feel his heart beating for her as they walked. As they neared the end of the corridor, toward the Common Room, the raucous sounds of chatter and loud music reached their ears. It was still the weekend, and they were, after all, nineteen.
Hermione grimaced at the thought of facing other people right now, when her heart and her head were so lost. She turned to look at him, his expression inscrutable, his eyes clouded with unknown thoughts.
“I asked, if after tonight, you’d take me to your library... would you still?” she inquired hesitantly, her question half an excuse to be alone with him again, half a pretext to explore the books she longed to see.
Regardless, it felt selfish to ask, as if he would deny her such a sin.
“A promise is a promise, Granger," Draco remarked with a sneer, a hint of satisfaction playing on his lips as he held the door open for her, ushering her into the bustling Common Room.
Her eyes adjusted to the bright lights, taking in the various groupings of people scattered around the room. Pavarti, Padma, and Lisa Tupin were engrossed in conversation, sipping from their cups and flipping through Witch Weekly magazines, laughing at Horoscopes.
Neville and Daphne Greengrass sat quietly in a corner, absorbed in an Herbology book.
As Draco began to move away from her side, a golden snitch zipped across the room, followed by a shout.
“Oi, ‘Mione, watch out!” Ron's voice rang out. He was engaged in a game of Butterbeer Pong with Harry, Seamus, and Dean. With snake-like reflexes, Draco intercepted the snitch, his expression twisting at the sight of Ron.
Draco turned away without a glance at her, pocketing the snitch and throwing a middle finger in Ron's direction.
"What’s your problem, Malfoy?" Ron slurred, clearly already tipsy.
Hermione didn't feel like dealing with his drunken antics tonight, but she walked closer to Ron and Harry nonetheless, a coldness washing over her as Draco left her side.
He swiftly made his way into his room, and as he opened the door, Hermione caught a glimpse of Pansy and Theo inside. A strange twist formed in her stomach at the thought—Pansy, his ex-girlfriend, his first.
They had managed to remain friends, but Hermione couldn't shake the brief surge of jealousy before it ebbed away. If they could maintain such a close friendship, could she and Ron?
"What was your time, Hermione?" Harry asked, quickly moving toward her with Ron in tow.
"Yeah, what do I have to beat tomorrow?" Ron chuckled.
"18 minutes,"
"Shit," Harry nearly stumbled at that revelation.
"Whose?" he pressed on.
"Mine," she answered simply. Harry had already finished his task with Theo, and he nodded in understanding.
"What does that mean?!" Ron interjected eagerly, hating to be left out and desperate for a clue.
"You'll find out,”
"Here, you'll probably need this," Harry said, passing her a glass of Fire Whiskey. It burned as it went down her throat, and all Hermione could think about was Draco.
“Wasn’t too bad, was it 'Mione? I mean, I couldn’t imagine having to deal with Malfoy for 18 minutes…” Ron started, then abruptly paused. “If it was only 18 minutes, why did it take you so long to get back up to the Common Room?” he asked, checking his watch.
Hermione felt a rising sense of panic. She didn't want to have this conversation now, not here.
"You'll get it tomorrow," Harry interjected, his expression somehow knowing. Hermione locked eyes with her friend for a brief moment, silently questioning.
Before Ron could retort, heavy and rapid footfalls rang out, and dark, chiseled skin descended the spiral staircase and interrupted them.
It was Blaise, clad in black sweatshorts and shirtless. The Patil twins dropped their magazines and stared.
Zabini looked like a god carved from stone, a fact even Hermione couldn't deny as he ran past and disappeared into Draco’s room with a slam of the door.
“What the hell was that?” Ron looked puzzled, casting a glance between Hermione and Harry.
Blaise appeared disheveled, sweat glistening on his skin, pupils dilated, and shirtless. Hermione scanned the room instinctively, but there was no sign of Ginny.
Zabini banged open the door again, and this time Draco and Theo stood in the doorway, their expressions smug as they watched Blaise pocket something and begin to ascend the stairs taking two at a time.
“Mate, just a little,” Draco called out casually, grinning wide, drawing a few curious glances from students in the common room.
“Ah, you should use a lot, whatever it is. I doubt it'll vanish until the early morning anyway, so really layer it on,” Theo shouted back with a devilish smirk.
Damn it. They knew. Draco knew. He locked eyes with her, a knowing smile playing at his lips, and he winked.
He bloody well knew.
Her eyes widened as she glanced back at Blaise, who flipped them both the middle finger before disappearing up the stairs. Ginny must have been in his room upstairs; she wouldn’t be able to leave with all of them here like this. Harry, Ron.
Fucking hell, she wondered if Ginny knew, Theo, and Draco knew. Parkinson's voice yelling in the background about some joke she wasn't let in on provided a note of relief, she at least, clearly didn’t know.
Harry and Ron were now watching, their expressions shifting to discomfort.
“What do you think that’s all about?” Harry asked a hint of disgust in his tone.
“Probably a boil or something,” Hermione spat out, struggling to keep her voice steady.
“A boil?” Ron grimaced.
“Must be. Malfoy's always tinkering with potions, some sort of experiment gone wrong, I'm sure,” she replied, her lashes flicking back to Draco, who continued to smile at her as he and Nott exchanged one last look before finally closing their door again.
Hermione's curiosity burned. What had Malfoy just given Zabini? “Just a little"? She knew she wanted an answer, whether from Ginny or directly from Malfoy himself.
But first, Ron. Ron had to come first.
She turned back toward him, his eye line fixed on the door that Draco had just closed. She could sense his annoyance, his drunken state making any conversation futile tonight. She'd have to wait until tomorrow, when he was sober, after his hunt.
Ron awoke to a pounding headache, feeling the weight of loneliness settling in once again. It had been nearly three weeks since Hermione had spent the night, and they hadn't shagged since Halloween.
Something was undeniably wrong between them. He wanted to bridge the gap, to mend whatever was broken, but it was becoming increasingly clear that Hermione wasn't putting in the effort like he was.
His frustration simmered beneath the surface, threatening to boil over. Ron's mind drifted into increasingly vivid and forbidden fantasies when he wanked, ones he knew Hermione would never entertain.
In his moments of self-release, she wore her school skirt, and he played out scenarios where he could dominate her, indulging in desires he knew were too taboo to voice. He envisioned himself as the hero, rescuing her from perilous situations, relishing in the role of her knight in shining armor.
Malfoy was getting to her, he could tell. Ron couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was, but he despised the way Draco looked at her. It fueled his hatred even more, adding another layer to the already extensive list of grievances he held against him.
‘Git’ Ron thought.
Ron made his way to lunch, he absentmindedly checked the standings. He vaguely remembered something about Draco and Hermione being in the lead, but, he and Pansy were now in the top spot. They were the only team left to go, aside from Dean and Justin.
- Ronald Weasley and Pansy Parkinson – 34 minutes and 23 seconds
- Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger – 37 minutes and 40 seconds
- Blaise Zabini and Ginevra Weasley – 39 minutes and 20 seconds
- Dean Thomas and Justin Finch-Fletchy – 42 minutes and 12 seconds
- Ernie MacMillian and Luna Lovegood – 44 minutes and 32 seconds
Ron stared at the leaderboard in disbelief. To beat Hermione and Draco, they'd have to complete the task in less than three minutes, an impossible feat. Even cracking the top five seemed daunting—they'd need to finish in around 10 or 12 minutes, a stretch considering their current performance.
Ron walked with a sense of resignation to the corner where he had agreed to meet Parkinson. Surprisingly, her presence wasn't all that unwelcome. In fact, he found himself looking forward to it. She had a certain sharpness to her, a delightful mean streak that he found oddly enjoyable at times.
Turning the corner, he spotted her sitting in the alcove, her feet tucked beneath her legs, her haughty nose in a book. She must have been waiting there for a while.
"Miss me so much, Parkinson, that you've been waiting all day?" he teased as he approached.
"Ugh, please," she scoffed, looking up to meet his eyes. "I was just trying to get some time to myself between Draco, Theo, and Blaise's egos. And since Daphne only hangs out with Longbottom now... here I am," she replied, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
“I don’t know how you stand it, hanging out with those three…”
“Oh, because your ego is so much better, hero,” Pansy shot back, looking up at him. Despite her condescending tone, there was something in the way she said it that Ron found strangely appealing. The word "hero" from her lips felt like a gentle caress.
“You think we can beat 3 minutes?” Ron asked eagerly, switching topics
“Gods, no. But we may be able to at least crack the top five spot if we do it in 10,” Pansy replied with a smile. “Honestly, even if we beat Theo and Potter, I’d be happy.”
“10 minutes? Let’s go for it,” Ron agreed, feeling a surge of determination coursing through him. He may not be as competitive as Hermione or Harry, but he loved winning. The thrill of victory, the rush of adrenaline, the congratulations—it was a feeling he couldn't resist chasing.
Pansy pinched the parchment between her fingers as Ron moved closer, a subtle scent wafting from her. He'd never noticed before, but she smelled nice—different from Hermione's floral scent. Pansy exuded the aroma of expensive perfume, with notes of amber, fig, and maybe even sandalwood? Whatever it was, he liked it.
“You smell good,” Ron commented, taking in a deep breath as she turned to look at him.
“Don’t smell me, Weasley,” she snapped, her tone sharp, but Ron couldn't help but smile.
With a sudden flurry, the parchment erupted, the gold ink fading into black. Ron leaned in to read the clue:
“In a journey to fathom another's plight,
Peer past the woods, where secrets take flight.
Consult the bees, the leaves, the overlooked,
In their whispers, truths are tucked.”
Ron's mind raced as he processed the riddle, and then it hit him like a slap in the face. Ginny always made him and Harry stand back when collecting honey from the bees. Before he could even voice his realization, Pansy shot up from her seat.
“Greenhouse Six,”
He wasted no time in following her lead, their feet pounding heavily on the staircase as they raced toward their destination.
Luckily, the spot they had agreed to meet in the castle was close to the exit toward the grounds, and they both ran as hard as their lungs and legs could carry them.
Pansy barreled past the wooden entrance doors, the cold air hitting Ron like a wave as they burst outside. The moon hung high in the sky, and the stars were beginning to twinkle as they rounded the corner and dashed into the greenhouse.
Pansy cast her Lumos, and Ron followed her into the dimly lit space.
The humming emanating from the hives reverberated through the small space, filling it with an eerie ambiance. Vines hung from every potted plant. Pansy wasted no time in moving toward the hives, and Ron followed closely behind her, his larger frame towering over her petite one. As they approached, he noticed an odd movement on the ground near her feet.
“What is that?” he asked, leaning around her to get a better look. The soft rustling of leaves filled the air, and he reached out to touch one of them.
As his fingers made contact, Pansy gripped his arm tightly, her nails digging into his skin.
Suddenly, the bees erupted from their hives, swarming around them like lava from a volcano. Ron reacted quickly, casting a Protego charm to create a shield in front of himself and Pansy.
The bees attempted to swarm but couldn't penetrate the barrier. They watched tensely as the bees formed a trail and began to buzz toward the open door of the greenhouse.
Pansy sprinted ahead, the door banging against its hinges as the wind slammed it shut behind her. Ron followed, surprised by her speed despite her short legs.
The bees were heading downward, toward the Forbidden Forest.
Fuck.
“Parkinson!” Ron yelled, halting in his tracks.
“What?!” she rounded on him; her expression impatient.
“That’s the Forbidden Forest,”
“No shit,”
“Last time I followed a bug in there, I was almost eaten by giant spiders,” Ron confessed.
“Stop being a pussy. You’re a Gryffindor. Let’s go!” Pansy urged.
That did it. It only took Pansy Parkinson calling him a pussy once for Ron to take the lead, running ahead of her. He leaped over roots and branches, determined to stay ahead, the hum of the bees still audible in the distance. He pushed thoughts of Aragog from his mind; the giant spider was long dead, thankfully, along with most of his offspring.
Ron came to an abrupt stop, feeling as though all the life and air had been sucked out of him as he stood in the middle of a clearing. The moon cast shadows on the swarming bees as they congregated around a hulking tree at the center of the empty opening.
He heard Pansy stop behind him, her breaths short from running.
“A tree?” she huffed haughtily.
Ignoring her sarcasm, Ron moved forward to investigate. The bees seemed to swarm around the tree but never made contact. It was intriguing.
“I think we need to touch it,”
Before he even turned his face, Ron felt Pansy behind him. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold air and the exertion. With both hands pressed against the bark, her long red nails lightly scratched the coarse surface.
Suddenly, the bark reacted, pushing inward and then swinging back out like on a carousel. Ron watched in amazement as a large marble basin emerged from the base where the roots had once sat.
The shimmering light of the clear liquid inside danced on Pansy’s pale face.
“A Pensieve,” Ron thought, looking up to see sap oozing from the bark where their hands had just been.
"You Must Choose Who You Let In. It Can Only Be One."
He knew instantly, and the memory of Harry and Hermione's conversation came back to him vividly.
“Whose?” Harry had asked. “Mine,” Hermione had replied.
Malfoy hung in the air like a bitter aftertaste. Ron felt a hit of rage at the thought of Draco manipulating his way into Hermione's mind, into her memories, into her thoughts. But he pushed the anger aside, focusing on the task at hand. They were making great time, and they could pull ahead if he stayed focused.
“We choose one, we can go into mine,” Ron suggested quickly, knowing that Pansy already knew the worst of his memories.
“No, we can go into mine,” she responded, almost as if she had to.
“Parkinson, last time you went into your memories, you came out screaming,” Ron reminded her, trying to dissuade her.
“Face your fears? This time I’ll have someone with me,” she replied, nodding toward him. Ron knew there wasn’t any sense arguing with her.
“Alright,” he agreed reluctantly, grasping the sides of the basin.
He looked over at Pansy, and they both plunged their faces into the cool pool, ready to confront whatever awaited them in her memories.
He felt like he was falling, just as Harry had described. They landed with a thud on in a dimly lit corridor, yet he felt no pain.
They were located somewhere down by the dungeons. Pansy looked younger, dressed in a delicate gown, facing someone in black dress robes with white-blond hair. It was Malfoy.
“You were staring at her! That Mudblood, don’t deny it. I watched you,” Pansy spat, her face full of rage.
“Calm down, Parkinson. I was merely wondering why Krum would choose her. Weren’t we all?” Draco responded coldly.
“Don’t lie to me, Draco. That wasn’t the look in your eyes. I know that look,” she hissed back.
“You know that look? Really? As if I ever gave it to you?” Draco retorted, closing the gap between them. Water welled up in Pansy's eyes.
Then, like a burst bubble, Ron felt himself falling again. This time, the landing was softer. They found themselves in a beautifully decorated room—a sitting room adorned with ancient tapestries, smoldering fireplaces, and large windows.
Pansy sat alone in a chair, and a woman walked in. Taller than Pansy, slender, but with her features. It must have been her mother. Ron noted.
“Pansy, you stupid little girl. I told you; you need to make a match with the Malfoy boy, and look what you’ve done... you’ve driven him away,” her mother scolded.
“Mother, I’ve tried…” Pansy began, but her mother cut her off sharply.
“You clearly haven’t. Look at you—bags under your eyes, and your waist, it’s chubby,” her mother spat.
“Mother, we are at war! The school…it’s changed…” Pansy attempted to reason.
“I know we are at war; this is why I’m pushing for a good match. If you do not make this work on your own, I will force you into a marriage contract with the Crabbe boy… would you like that? To humiliate us all?” her mother threatened coldly.
Another burst, another hard landing. This time, he felt Pansy’s hand in his, and he grasped it tightly. They were now standing in a dormitory room, similar to his in Gryffindor Tower but Slytherin. The hangings were black, emerald, and silver, and the greenish light filtered in from the lake. Pansy sat on the floor, looking awful—unhappy, scared. Beside her, a shaggy brown head bobbed up, gripping her delicate hand in his.
“Pans, I’ll do it. Tell your mother I’ll marry you. My father would be pleased, actually,” Theo's voice echoed in the room.
“Theo, I would never make you do that. You don’t see me that way… You’d live unhappily,” Pansy sobbed.
“It’s better than being sold like cattle to Crabbe. Plus, you’re one of my best friends. I’m sure we could come to an arrangement,” Theo added.
“You’re sweet Theo, but that’s it, isn’t it? I’ll never be good enough. Not for Draco, not for my parents, not even for you. I’ll be marrying a gay man, forever undesirable, that is if you even survive this war,” she insisted, pulling up his sleeve to reveal the Dark Mark blackened against his skin.
Ron stood there, blinking. Theo was gay? How could he not have known? With that revelation, he came crashing back down to the forest floor, his body slamming against the ground.
Ron blinked his eyes multiple times, trying to shift the light back into them, he felt a pit forming in his stomach. Pansy's feelings of being undesirable, not good enough, echoed in his mind. He couldn't shake off the weight of her mother's voice, the pressure Pansy felt from her parents to marry a Death Eater, forced upon her from a young age.
Then there was the other memory, the one involving Draco, the mention of Hermione. Ron saw it as his smoking gun, as the Muggles called it. Draco had harbored a lust for Hermione for years, and now Ron could use it against him. But what would that mean for Pansy? He couldn't exploit one of her worst memories for his gain.
Fuck, no, he couldn’t do that. He'd have to wrestle with that internally until Malfoy slipped up on his own.
Pansy rose to her feet, dusting the leaves from her skirt. Her face looked sad, and Ron felt a tug of sympathy. He wanted to say something, anything.
"You know, you're fit, right?" he blurted out, immediately regretting his choice of words.
"Excuse me?" she pressed; her face slightly annoyed.
"I mean, you're attractive. Very pretty," he stumbled over his words, trying to salvage the situation.
She stared back at him, unblinking.
"I'm not just saying that... It's annoying, because I'm supposed to dislike you, but you're very pretty," he finished awkwardly.
"What would Granger say if she heard you say that?" her voice held a hint of hostility, likely stemming from the memory they had just witnessed.
"I'm not sure, but I'm sure she'd be interested to know about that first memory. He's looked at her like that for years, then," he added knowingly.
"Not years, just that once... then again... this year..." she replied, not unkindly.
"At least I'm not going mad. You've noticed it too," he said, pushing down the rage bubbling inside him.
"A blind person could notice it, and for a while... I thought you were blind," she finished.
"I'm not blind, and I meant what I said... I'm sure a lot of blokes desire you, begrudgingly or not," Ron replied.
"We did it, you know?" she smiled with a genuine expression.
Ron was momentarily confused, did what? He felt a small blush creeping onto his face as she pointed toward the tree, the sap illuminating.
"10 minutes and 5 seconds."
"Bloody hell, we actually did it," he turned to her, smiling. "Come on, Parkinson, this Friday, I’m going to buy you the biggest bottle of Fire Whiskey in Hogsmeade."
"Alright, but I’m picking out the vintage," she laughed, a genuine sound that warmed him. They turned and began up the trail back towards the castle.
"You can’t tell anyone about what you saw." her voice was firm.
"I won’t... on my honor, as a Gryffindor," he said seriously as he helped her over a root.
"My hero," she rolled her eyes, and there it was again the words.
He liked them, he liked hearing her say them.
Chapter 19: The Tipping Point
Notes:
I apologize in advance for this chapter.
But it needed to be done, and it needed to be done in a way where you don't hate Ron completely.
I don't love fics that make him the bad guy for Draco and Hermione's relationship to work!
Chapter Text
Hermione woke up the next morning determined. She tossed and turned, contemplating how honest she should be with Ron.
She couldn’t bring herself to tell him about the conflicting feelings she was having for Draco, but she knew she had to be truthful that her feelings for Ron weren’t developing as they should. The knot in her stomach tightened at the thought of being completely truthful.
Tonight could end disastrously, or they could agree to return to being friends. Although she was confident it wouldn’t be that easy.
She couldn’t imagine the idea of losing the entire Weasley family. Ending things with Ron and immediately jumping into Draco's arms would be madness. Besides, she wasn’t even sure if she was ready to let Draco in. She knew she couldn’t keep hurting Ron like this. That’s where she needed to start.
As usual, Hermione woke early and made her way down to the Great Hall. She planned to get through her classes and find Ron after Quidditch practice. She rehearsed in her head how she wanted the conversation to start, but she had no idea how it might end.
Curious, she looked up at the current standings, she wasn’t actually expecting to see Ron and Pansy's time, and she was surprised.
Actually, fucking shocked.
- Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger – 37 minutes and 40 seconds
- Blaise Zabini and Ginevra Weasley – 39 minutes and 20 seconds
- Dean Thomas and Justin Finch-Fletchy – 42 minutes and 12 seconds
- Ronald Weasley and Pansy Parkinson – 44 minutes and 28 seconds
- Ernie MacMillian and Luna Lovegood – 44 minutes and 32 seconds
Pansy and Ron completed their task in ten minutes, which meant that once Dean and Justin finished their hunt tonight, they would be in the third spot.
Hermione wondered how they did it. Whose memory did they go into? For some reason, she assumed it would have been Ron's. He didn't have anything to be ashamed of, but she was sure he wouldn't want Pansy to know about that night in the tent when he left them.
So maybe it was Pansy's? Her curiosity deepened. She'd love to go into Pansy's memories and dig up something on the Slytherins, especially Draco.
She sat at her usual table in Ancient Runes, eagerly awaiting Professor Babbling. To her surprise, Draco slid into the seat beside her, a cheeky smile playing on his lips. She glanced over, he never sat beside her during Runes. As the rest of the class filed in, she blinked, slightly taken aback.
Shifting slightly in her seat, she should have anticipated this. She knew if she allowed him in, he would encroach on every inch, and a part of her welcomed it.
"Did you see the new times?" she whispered, curious if Pansy had already filled him in.
"I did. Ten minutes... didn't think Weasley had it in him," he replied hastily.
"Has Parkinson mentioned anything else to you?"
"She bragged a little about beating Theo and Potters time," he added
"Nothing more?" she pressed again
"They went into Pansy's memories if that's what you're getting at," he retorted, his tone slightly harsh.
"I thought it would be Ron's," she murmured softly.
"He probably didn't want to show her what I saw," his expression darkened.
"You knew about Ginny," she whispered hastily, shifting the subject
He turned towards her, a wide grin spreading across his face as he popped a mint into his mouth. She couldn't help but notice the subtle shift in his demeanor as he rolled the mint around on his tongue.
"So did you... but you didn't tell me,” He countered.
"And you didn't tell me,” She snapped back.
"Please, Granger. I could see it written all over your face when I mentioned the break-up."
"Ginny didn't want you to know," she explained.
"Who are we going to tell? It's not like we have many friends," he shot back.
"That display last night, you could have got them caught," she remarked.
"By who? Weasley and Potter? Those two are the most oblivious blokes in this place. Zabini could have had her bent over the side of the couch, and they still wouldn't have noticed," he scoffed.
"That's disgusting," she rolled her eyes as Professor Babbling cleared her throat and began writing on the chalkboard.
"Not as disgusting as what they were doing up in his room," he added, then a thought struck her: what did Draco give Blaise? What did he pocket?
"What did you give him? I saw him pocket something as he left your room, don't deny it," she pressed.
He shot her another wicked smile, clearly reveling in the moment of anticipation. There was a fiery intensity in his gaze that lit something deep within her. Uncertainty danced in her stomach as she wondered if she was truly prepared to hear whatever he had to say.
"Are you absolutely certain you want to know?" he drawled, his voice low as he leaned in closer to her ear, sending a shockwave down her back with his proximity.
"Yes, what if it has harmed Ginny," she countered, trying to push her flustered thoughts down.
"Please, I'd never give Zabini something without testing it extensively. And if you're that concerned, do check in on her for me. I'm sure she'll give you all the juicy details,"
"I want to hear it from you... what was it?" she insisted.
"Intensity elixir. I make it myself, it’s an oil texture... you'd only need a small drop, and with the right touch, or the right man, it can extend a woman’s pleasure for up to ten minutes. I've heard firsthand it can be a very cathartic experience, a spiritual awakening," he explained, a devious glint in his eye.
"Firsthand experience?" she breathed, her face undoubtedly a deep shade of scarlet as she envisioned it.
"I told you... I'd never give him something I haven't tried myself," he leaned back, sitting up straight, the taste of mint lingering in her throat, as he pulled his breath away.
She gulped, tearing her face away from his and squeezing her thighs together in an attempt to quell the overwhelming pounding sensation pulsing between them.
"Try to keep those thoughts to yourself, Granger. I can practically hear them, and it's driving me fucking mad," he whispered, catching her off guard.
Had she been thinking out loud? Could he hear her struggling to suppress the arousal inside her?
"And no... I won't give you a vial. The only way you're getting your hands on that; is if it's with me... in my bed," he added with a smirk.
"Malfoy," she finally growled back, and he gave her one last teasing glance before lowering his head to start taking notes.
Her entire body felt aflame, every inch pulsating and throbbing with sensation.
It took her the entire day to shake off the thought of Malfoy rubbing her with that elixir. She felt dizzy from it, his every action and word driving her to the brink of insanity. She feared she would explode if she didn't find release soon.
Ron and Harry went for dinner while she finished her last class, her nerves only heightened. She decided she would go down to his room after he returned, showered, and settled in for the night.
Gods, she hoped practice went well.
She listened patiently for the door to click shut, the familiar sound of Harry's voice fading as he passed her room. Then, like a twist of a knife in her gut, she knew it was time.
Standing in front of the mirror, she took deep breaths in an attempt to regain her composure, but her hands remained clammy and her stomach churned with nerves.
The weight of her dilemma pressed heavily upon her; she was torn between holding onto Ron and facing the unsettling truth. The reaction Draco had provoked in her today had crossed a line, and deep down, she knew it was only the beginning.
She took the first step down the stairs, noting Theo and Blaise sitting on a couch in the Common Room, watching her as she made her way toward Ron's room. With a dull knock, she heard his voice calling her in, and she turned the knob.
Comfort washed over her as she entered his room, the familiarity and warmth enveloping her, the scent of him calming her nerves.
"Hey," he greeted with a smile, still drying his hair, clearly fresh out of the shower.
"Hi. How was practice?" she asked, sticking to her rehearsed plan. If practice went well, she'd proceed; if it went badly, she'd abort.
"Fantastic. We're playing really well together," Ron replied, his face beaming with happiness. "I've got to give it to Ginny; she's put together a great team, and she doesn't even seem all that bothered with Harry. She's definitely less moody."
Hermione tried to ignore that comment, but she couldn't shake the fear that her expression might betray her knowledge of why Ginny seemed less moody.
"I saw you and Parkinson will be in the third spot. Congratulations," she continued, buttering him up. She knew Ron well enough to know how to layer her approach.
"Oh yeah... I don't think either of us could believe we did it in ten minutes. We went into Parkinson's memories, though. I remember you saying you went into yours. Was that... okay?" he asked shyly.
"As well as it could be, having someone invade your thoughts," she replied, deflecting the topic. She didn't want Ron to know that Malfoy had also seen him at his weakest.
"Are you staying? You know it's been a while..." Ron trailed off, his voice tinged with hesitance. But something in his tone made Hermione feel like he wasn't quite himself either.
" I was hoping to talk with you. I know we've been out of sync lately," she began, sticking to her practiced script.
"I've been waiting for this," he huffed, sinking into a chair, his expression darkening. "I know what's going on. It's Malfoy. He's been getting under your skin, trying to gain sympathy or whatever this is. I see the way he looks at you, Hermione. Please don't tell me you're giving in to this crap," Ron retorted, his sharpness returning.
Taken aback, Hermione wasn't ready for Draco's name to come up yet, let alone from Ron. She had hoped it wouldn't come up at all.
"Ron, that's not what this is about," Hermione insisted, trying to remain calm despite the rising tension.
"Really? It isn't? He seems very comfortable around you, and suddenly you're pushing away from me? For what? A Death Eater? Someone who made you crawl on his floor, watched as that was carved into your arm?" Ron pointed accusingly at her scar, his words stinging.
"What should he have done? Jump in front of me? Put his mother, his father, his life on the line for mine?" Hermione countered, her voice trembling.
"I WOULD HAVE!" Ron snapped, his fury overtaking him. "I would have, Hermione!" he breathed harder.
"That's not fair to compare those two things, and you know it!" she snapped right back, feeling the heat of the argument rising within her. "What if you had to choose between your father, your mother, and Parkinson, for example? A girl you seemingly hated until this year. Would you want that decision to follow you forever? I know you'd do that for me, Ron, and I'd do it for you and Harry... but it's not the same, or at least it wasn't then," she spat out. She noticed a flicker of something in his eyes—was it understanding? She doubted it.
"Then what is this?" Ron pressed.
"You know I've struggled, to bridge the gap between being friends and being partners. I don't feel like I'm giving you what you need, what you deserve," Hermione admitted, her voice strained.
"What I want is you, Hermione," Ron declared earnestly.
"Am I giving you what you want, honestly Ron, am I?" Hermione's voice trembled, her eyes welling up with tears.
"No... you aren't," Ron breathed out, the air feeling heavy and suffocating. "I've been patient, or at least I feel like I've been patient, but you don't let me take charge. It's like you're always too vulnerable, or like you can’t let go of the control, sometimes it…it feels stale." Ron admitted, his words cutting deep.
Hermione felt the sting of hurt at his confession. She had tried her best to feel sexy for him, to lose herself in lust. But it wasn't enough, and she knew it.
"You know this isn't working... and maybe it didn't even work in the summer, but we pretended it was something it wasn’t" Hermione acknowledged.
“It was supposed to work, you know. Everything made sense, our futures were clearly cut... but you're not wrong. The connection isn't there, and I'm the only one working on fixing that,”
"I did work at it, but everything I did I felt like something wasn't clicking. It was too familiar, and not in a good way" Hermione responded
Ron took a deep sigh, meeting her gaze with his vivid blue eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the truth they both had to face.
"You promise me this isn't about Malfoy? What you're feeling? Because I don't believe it, I don't believe you," he pressed again, an edge creeping back into his tone.
Panic surged through Hermione. Should she lie to him? What was better? She had done such a great job telling him the truth yet so carefully avoiding the edge that had been the tipping point.
She didn’t want to tell him about Malfoy; to spare his feelings, to preserve their friendship. If anything happened between Draco and Hermione and Ron found out, he'd hate her, he'd never forgive her.
She stood in front of him, her words stumbling over vowels, tears streaming down her cheeks, as she hesitated and he seized on it like easy prey.
"I FUCKING KNEW IT! I KNEW IT!" Ron roared, pushing past her. Hermione's entire body felt numb as Ron swung open his dorm door, his rage filling the air.
"Ronald!" Hermione yelled after him, the remnants of the Common Room turning, Blaise and Theo shifting in their seats as Ron stormed toward Draco's door.
Hermione cursed silently. She had no idea how Malfoy would react. Her eyes must have looked crazed as she tried to pull at Ron.
"Ron! This is between us, let's talk about this!" she pleaded, feeling desperation creeping into her voice.
"Malfoy!" Ron pounded on the door, and Draco was standing there within seconds, face to face with Ron but slightly taller, his expression steely.
"This... This is done," Ron pointed between Draco and Hermione.
"Ron," Hermione interjected through gritted teeth.
"It seems more likely that…this is done," Draco sneered back, repeating Ron's gesture but between Ron and Hermione. Before Ron could lunge, Theo was on him, grabbing his shoulders.
"Let's calm down there, Weasley," Theo urged delicately.
"Get off me, Nott," Ron spat.
"I see right through you, Malfoy. You're trying to get under her skin! This is all some sick game to you, isn't it? Trying to shag the war hero, the Brightest Witch of her age? To bring her down to your level, taint her name like yours?" Ron continued, his words laced with the bitterness of the accusation.
"You're such a fucking moron, Weasley," Draco spat, his jaw twitching, evident restraint.
"Ron, I told you... Malfoy and I are friends, that's it," Hermione pushed, meeting Draco's eyes briefly, sensing a hint of hurt in them.
She was being torn apart. She was always calculated, thoughtful, and in control. But now, she felt utterly out of control, of herself, of her emotions.
"Is that true? Just friends?" Ron directed his question toward Malfoy, his tone sharp.
She watched Draco's expression harden, his eyes locking onto Hermione's as if searching for an answer buried within hers. Theo still restraining Ron, while Blaise stood idly by Draco.
"It's true,” Draco admitted coldly, swallowing hard, biting down the lie they both knew it to be.
"You can't be fucking deluded enough to think she'd ever go for you? That you'd ever deserve her?" Ron shot back.
Draco’s eyes flashed, "Really Weasley? How did it feel, slithering back after abandoning them when the Dark Lord was hunting her and Potter like animals? Hearing her beg for you to stay, did it finally stroke your ego enough to think you're worthy of being their friend? Worthy enough of her? I wake up every day knowing I’m not good enough for Granger, but it makes me physically ill that you think you are," Draco spat out, his words cutting through the air like knives, each one aimed at Ron with precision.
Hermione felt the wind get knocked out of her, feeling a sharp pang of betrayal coursing through her. She couldn't believe how Draco could wield that memory against Ron so callously. She trusted him with her deepest pains, only for him to exploit them to wound Ron.
"You told him?" Ron's voice cracked with hurt as he turned to her.
"It was in the Pensieve," she admitted quickly.
"Yeah, I know just how fucking worthless you are." Draco seized the moment, his voice dripping with venom, and Ron's face darkened.
"How worthless I am? Rich coming from you!! You watched, you’re the fucking coward, watched as your psycho Aunt carved into her skin, Bellatrix was going to kill her, and you watched! You've been a foul and vile shit your entire life, and you think just because you've changed sides after the battle was already lost, it's redeemed you?!" Ron rounded on Draco.
Draco advanced menacingly towards Ron, his patience visibly wearing thin. Blaise instinctively reached out to restrain him, clutching his chest.
Ron, fueled by hate, suddenly surged forward, breaking free from Theo's grasp. With a swift motion, Ron's fist connected with Draco's cheek, but it was like hitting solid stone; Draco's expression barely flinched.
Yet, his eyes, now darker than ever, conveyed a chilling intensity that Hermione had never seen before.
Draco retaliated, delivering a powerful blow to Ron's face. Blood erupted from Ron's nose upon impact, staining his face crimson. As the chaos unfolded, Theo stepped in between the two, throwing Ron back, and Blaise wrestled with Draco.
"You'll never touch her!" Ron shouted, blood trickling from his injured nose. The commotion was attracting attention, causing dormitory doors to creak open, revealing pajama-clad students peering out with wide eyes.
"Want to bet on that?!” Draco retorted, his grin wild and eyes glinting with defiance.
Hermione needed to do something; this was getting fucking chaotic. She didn't even know how it got to this point. A pissing contest— it was always about their egos, their hate for each other.
"RONALD!" Hermione finally screamed.
"Is this even about us anymore? You just told me moments ago that I wasn't giving you what you wanted. Do you even care about that, or is this all about your pride?" She lashed out, her heart torn between them. They were both using her as a pawn in their power play.
“You know we don't work... but it's the fact that you think it’s about him that's causing you to act like an animal! It's not even about losing me, losing what we have, it’s about proving something to Malfoy!"
Ron had always been vocal about his anger regarding the leniency shown to Death Eaters after the war, especially Nott and Malfoy. He fought hard for Hermione and Harry to testify against them, but they didn’t. She was certain it was half the reason he was pushing so hard toward his dream of becoming an Auror. Ron had just acknowledged that their relationship wasn't working moments before he stormed out of his room, but he seized the opportunity to vilify Draco, to make him pay for whatever suffering Hermione was putting him through.
"No... I'm trying to get you to understand what he is. Don't let this fake unity bullshit fool you. He's a Death Eater, and to me, he always will be," Ron insisted, spitting through the blood, Theo still grabbing his torn shirt.
"I love it when you show your true colors, Weasley," Draco retorted with all the malice in the world.
“I can't wait until you show her yours," Ron spat back, pushing Theo's arm off his shoulder and storming back toward his dorm room, leaving Hermione, Draco, Theo, and Blaise in his wake.
It was over. She had lost him. She wasn't sure if their friendship could survive this. They might have been able to if Hermione stayed away from Draco. The moment she let herself succumb to him; he would never forgive her. She knew that now.
But she was angry—angry that Draco would use that memory against her, against Ron.
“Granger," she heard Draco’s strangled voice call out as the door to Ron's room slammed shut.
"Don't!" she turned with fury, tears in her eyes.
"I trusted you with that!" she spat, seeing his face harden again as she stormed away back toward her room.
“How many more lies did you want me to tell on your behalf?” Draco cut through her as she walked back toward the spiral steps, her heart ripping itself in half.
She had no excuse for her tears; she knew she was the architect of her own downfall.
Despite this knowledge, tears streamed down her face anyway. She understood she wasn't the one wronged, yet she allowed herself this moment of vulnerability, releasing the flood of emotions she'd suppressed for far too long.
It hit her like a tidal wave, more intense than any sorrow she'd experienced before – her parents, Ron walking out of the tent, Harry’s body in Hagrid’s arms. It all came crashing back, rendering her efforts and actions meaningless in an instant.
It felt like she had lost her family all over again—Molly and Arthur, George, Percy, even Bill and Charlie. She couldn't invade Ron's space; she was no longer a part of his life. Or at least, that's how she felt. It was as if her soul had been ripped in two.
She had made the difficult choice to be truthful, both to herself and to Ron. It was a level of honesty she hadn't embraced in ages.
She knew this ache would eventually fade, as it always did. She had endured the absence of Ron before, back in the sixth year, and they had overcome it then.
But now, having crossed the threshold from friendship to romance, could they ever go back? She regretted ever taking that leap, feeling foolish. They had been caught up in the moment, never stopping to think about what that would do to them, what future they had.
Why did it have to be Draco?
His presence consumed her, filling her with a bittersweet ache. Each moment with him - agony and ecstasy, a relentless tug-of-war.
“Fucking why did it have to be Draco Malfoy?!” she screamed into her pillow, her throat raw and hoarse.
The delicate balance she had maintained throughout these last few months finally crumbled.
Unlike Ginny, she didn't feel liberated; she wished she did, but that feeling eluded her.
She had made the right decision, but it exacted a heavy toll, one she feared she might not have enough left of herself to pay.
Chapter 20: OWL
Chapter Text
Ginny stretched her sore legs before leaving her dorm room. It was almost 11:00 PM, and most students would be in bed by the time she sneaked into the 8th-year Common Room to see Blaise. She had just returned from Quidditch Practice, feeling exhilarated; they had been flying exceptionally well, and Ginny was on top of the world.
Blaise was awakening something inside her that she didn’t even know was there. He made her feel wanted and sinfully sexy. He praised her like a goddess yet challenged her as an equal. She had only told Hermione, but hiding her relationship with Blaise was becoming increasingly difficult.
They would secretly snog in alcoves, broom cupboards, and even the deepest sections of the library. They had almost been caught by a nosy fourth-year Ravenclaw until Blaise hit him with a swift Obliviate, for some reason, that only turned Ginny on even more.
She moved quietly through the corridors, a path she had walked dozens of times during her relationship with Harry. Now that she was with Blaise, she had to keep going to the 8th-year dorms, it wasn’t like she could pull him into her dormitory that she shared with three other Gryffindors. Romilda Vane alone would be sure to spread that gossip throughout the entire castle in minutes.
She crept up the spiral steps, her heart pounding with each quiet footfall. The Common Room was deserted, but she climbed delicately, her senses alert for any sign of Harry. If he did catch her, she had always planned to pivot and slip into Hermione's room. As she ascended to the floor where Blaise's room was, she felt a surge of nervous anticipation. Without bothering to knock, she slipped inside. Zabini would be expecting her.
"Ginevra," Blaise smirked up at her.
He was sitting on his bed reading, wearing a crisp white t-shirt and dark grey sweatpants. She loved it when he looked casual, like a fallen god, trying to blend in. His room smelled like leathery tobacco, and it was intoxicating.
She barely entered the door before kicking off her trainers and leaping onto him. Straddling his waist, she leaned down to touch his lips, feeling his hands tangle in her hair as they locked together.
But then he pulled away, and she sat up straight, looking into his eyes, her heart pounding.
“I need to tell you something,” he said quickly, clearing his throat.
"Alright…" she replied tentatively, her mind already spinning with worry that Harry or Ron had found out about them.
Even with her mind twisting, she found herself unable to resist the magnetic pull between them, relishing the way his hands gripped her thighs, as she ground herself deeper on his groin.
Blaise's attempt at seriousness was currently being undermined by her distracting hips, rolling her bottom lip underneath her teeth as she looked down at him, smirking.
"I must be mad to do this now, seeing as you're rubbing yourself on my cock,” he breathed out heavily with a moan, “But I’m a good person," he finished, prompting an eye roll from Ginny.
“Malfoy punched your brother in the face about an hour ago," he explained. "It seems like he and Granger broke up, and he took out his rage on Draco, and there was a… kerfuffle."
"A kerfuffle? Is Ron alright?!" Ginny exclaimed, her focus shifting immediately to her brother's well-being, her hips halted.
“Physically, yes. Emotionally? Definitely not,” Blaise responded with a grimace.
"I should go see him. I should see Hermione… They broke up? Do you know why?" she asked, as she swung her legs over him to stand back up.
Blaise's expression remained stoic. "He seems to think it's because of Draco," he said bluntly.
"That's fucking mad. Hermione wouldn't break up with Ron for Malfoy," Ginny asserted vehemently.
"Just like you didn't break up with Potter for me?" Blaise countered, raising an eyebrow.
"I didn't break up with Harry for you," Ginny retorted quickly, rising to her feet and lacing up her trainers.
"Sure… whatever you tell yourself," Blaise smirked, his tone teasing.
She reopened the door, torn between stopping at Hermione's room first and heading straight to Ron's. In the end, her legs carried her down to her brother's door. She knocked loudly, but there was no response.
Knocking again, she heard a muffled voice from inside.
“Hermione, leave me the fuck-” Ron's voice trailed off as he swung the door open, looking surprised.
His nose appeared to be fixed, but there was still blood on his shirt, and his eyes held a sadness she couldn't ignore.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, taken aback, as she pushed past him to enter his room.
"Ahh... I heard about... well, that," she pointed at his shirt, covered in blood.
"How?!" he quipped.
Fuck, she hadn’t thought of that before she ran down here.
“Sure everyone has by now,” Ginny lied quickly.
She glanced around, taking in the disarray of Ron's space. Clothes strewn about; books scattered on the floor.
Ron followed her in, closing the door behind him. “What do you want, Gin?” he asked, his tone weary.
“I want to know what happened,” she said, turning to face him. “And I want to know why you're covered in blood.”
Ron sighed heavily, sinking onto his bed. “Fucking Malfoy happened,”
“Malfoy?” she demanded again.
Ron shrugged, avoiding her eyes. “Doesn't matter. It's over now.”
“It does matter!” Ginny exclaimed. “I won’t ask again, what happened?”
Ron hesitated. “Merlin, you sound like Mum.”
Then he sighed again “We argued. About Hermione.”
“Hermione?” Ginny echoed, her heart sinking.
“Yeah,” Ron muttered, looking away. “I accused her of breaking up with me because of him.”
"You broke up?" Ginny asked hesitantly, feeling slightly shocked at the words. Blaise had told her, but hearing it from Ron, it just felt different, felt more real.
She had thought everything was fine between the two of them, but perhaps she had been too absorbed in her own life to notice what was happening in her friend's life, her brother's life.
"We just don’t connect anymore, not like we should, and at first I completely agreed with her. But then this rage filled me, it was uncontrollable and all I could think about was the way Malfoy has been like a shadow over her all year, and I lost it." Ron's voice held a mixture of frustration and resentment.
Ginny gulped, recognizing that feeling all too well. It was like her and Blaise, but there was no way Hermione would feel that way toward fucking Malfoy, right? She thought back to the night in Hogsmeade; Draco had been protective, just the way Blaise was. He had kept close to Hermione. Ron might not have been completely wrong, but she wasn’t ready to admit that until she talked to Hermione.
"What did Malfoy say?" Ginny finally replied.
"That they were just friends, but it was clearly a lie…" Ron said moodily.
"You don’t actually think that ‘Mione would fall for Malfoy, after everything he’s done?" Ginny scoffed.
"I thought I agreed, but then she said something, something that’s been bothering me since,” Ron paused, gulping. “She said, 'What if it was me, and I had to choose between Mum and Dad?' What'd I do? Malfoy watched as Hermione was tortured, he was put in a position to choose. I used to think that it was simple - good versus evil. I was there, and I saw it so clearly... I know what I would have done. But I never really put myself in that position until I pictured one of the snakes laying there, and me standing where Malfoy was, and Mum and Dad."
"You know… They really aren’t that different from us," Ginny said, reflecting on the memory from Zabini’s Pensieve.
"Don’t tell me you believe in all this Unity shit too."
"If I tell you something... you can’t repeat it," Ginny pushed, and Ron just looked at her and nodded.
"I went into Zabini’s memories during our second hunt. It was during the Battle of Hogwarts, and Blaise and Parkinson fled. I thought they were cowardly, not fighting for either side. But I watched. Zabini and Parkinson helped Apparate fifty younger Slytherins to Zabini’s estate in London. They Apparated hundreds of miles back-to-back to help save those kids. You know what that’d do to your body, to your magic... They may not have made the decisions we think were right, but they aren’t evil, Ron."
“Parkinson too?” Ron questioned quietly.
“Yeah, pretty surprising, right?” Ginny smirked.
"Actually, not really," he said, a small smile playing on his lip, which Ginny found odd.
“Do you think you and Hermione will be able to go back to being just friends? You know we are all she has,” Ginny asked tentatively.
"I know, Gin... but I need time," Ron said wearily, his voice heavy with uncertainty. "And I don’t think I could ever forgive her if she was lying to me about Malfoy....I hate him," he added, the words dripping.
Her heart ached for Ron, and for Hermione.
They were children when this had all started, and in reality, they still were. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny had grown up together, experiencing the tumult of love and loss that comes with youth. They had forged bonds amidst the war, growing stronger with each trial they faced.
Now, with the threat of life and death gone, they could explore what more the world had to offer.
Ginny felt a wedge driving between them all. She had hoped Ron and Hermione would make it, but deep down, she knew this summer that their relationship was too familiar, too fraught with differences or perhaps similarities that clashed too harshly.
“Do you hate him more than you love her?” she finally asked sincerity in every word.
He fucked it.
He royally fucked it.
Something about Weasley just got under his skin, and clouded his thoughts, making it hard to make the right decisions and enact any type of restraint.
The way she looked at him when he used that memory to throw back in his face, seemed to shatter her.
Why did she want him to tell the Weasel they were just friends? She knew they weren’t just friends; he knew how she felt about him. She was scared of it, and so was he.
But wasn't bravery supposed to be a Gryffindor trait? Didn't she realize it took every ounce of his willpower every day not to tell her that she occupied a constant spot in his mind, that she had moved in there months ago and would never leave?
Draco couldn’t bring himself to face the whispers and stares in the crowded hallways. The idea of being labeled as the villain once again. ‘What had big bad Death Eater Draco Malfoy done to evoke the wrath of hero Ron Weasley?’ He could almost hear it through the walls.
He opted to skip class, barricading himself in his room with only his thoughts.
The bitter taste of regret lingered on his tongue as he replayed last night in his mind. How could he ever convince her to forgive him now?
He sipped his coffee, all he thought about was how would he recover from this. How could he convince Hermione to forgive him? All he had done so far this year was attempt to earn her trust, and at the critical moment, he had let it all slip away.
For what? To witness Weasley's ego crumpled on the ground, his face twisted in pain. Draco loved the sight, relished it, which was the sickest part of all.
‘Is it too early to start drinking?’ He glanced at the clock; it was 2:30 PM. He hadn't even noticed how quickly the morning had passed.
The door banged open, and Theo and Blaise strolled in, hands in their pockets.
"Can you two fucking knock?" he grumbled.
"Oh, are we interrupting the 'wallowing in self-pity' hour?" Theo laughed as he threw himself down onto the chair.
"I'm not in the mood, Theo," Draco snarled back.
"I was in the mood last night before you cockblocked me, Malfoy," Zabini said, rolling his eyes.
"And how did I cockblock you?"
"Punching the Weasel, so when Ginevra came to my room. I had to tell her, and she ran out of there before I could make her cum, and I love making her cum," Zabini explained, adamantly.
"That seems like your fault for telling her," Draco seethed.
"It's honorable, Zabini chose to be a good lad over sex. You must like her," Theo winked.
"I'd give that woman anything she fucking wanted," Zabini smirked.
"Again, I'm not in the mood to talk about you and the She-Weasel," Draco snapped.
"Let's talk about you and Granger then. That display last night... tough to watch," Theo added quickly.
"No fucking shit," Blaise agreed.
Blaise looked over to Theo, who quickly stood and walked over to Draco's small bar cart filled with booze.
"Crack the twenty-year," Blaise said, pointing at a dusty bottle of Ogden’s in the back.
"That's my good stuff!" Draco protested, but Theo had already opened it.
"You need the good stuff," Theo said, uncorking and pouring three glasses.
"Have you thought about shagging a random? Not having regular sex has made you even more moody, if that was possible." Zabini retorted, taking a long sip.
Draco shot him a daggered stare.
"I'm not shagging a random," he said through gritted teeth.
"He just needs to shag Granger," Theo grinned again, downing his glass.
"Can you both please leave?" Draco said, feeling the burn of the fire whiskey touching his lips.
"Not until you go and talk to her," Theo insisted.
"What are you two, my Healer?" Draco shot back.
"You couldn't pay me enough for that. We're just sick and tired of watching you two pine over each other. It's gag-worthy," Blaise added.
"She's not pining over me..."
"Did you see her last night? She was fucking ruined when you brought up that shit about Weasley. Whatever you see in your partner's Pensieve, you keep that to yourself, mate! That wasn't the look of a girl who was annoyed with her project partner, there was more to that hurt." Theo pointed out.
"Don't... don't bring it up. I know I was an asshole," Draco admitted, taking another drink.
"I didn't think you'd give up that easy, unlike you," Blaise said, looking over at Theo.
Malfoy men didn’t fucking give up. Zabini was right. Draco had told himself that if she ever became available, he'd make himself available. He wouldn’t lose her. Not now, not when he was so fucking close to having her, so fucking close to giving her everything she needed.
"I'll Owl her," Draco said, trying to sound casual.
Blaise twisted his eye back and blinked. Theo spit out his drink.
"You'll what? She's just upstairs, and you're going to Owl her?" Theo exclaimed.
"I'm not sure if she wants to talk to me yet. I'll test the waters," Draco explained, thinking it made sense in his mind.
"Dear Hermione, I'm sorry for punching your lifelong friend and ex-boyfriend in the face, all while spilling a secret you trusted me to keep. Please do reconsider letting me see you naked. All the best, Draco Malfoy," Theo began mockingly as if writing a letter.
Blaise roared with laughter, but Draco didn’t.
"Sod off, before last night, she wanted to come over to the Manor Library... I could still offer the invitation, a sign of peace?" Draco proposed, finding clarity in his thoughts.
"Then just go and ask her, don't you dare Owl her," Theo insisted, as he leaned his head back in his chair.
"I'm Owling her," Draco declared, ignoring the groans from Theo and Blaise, he made his way to his desk. He opened the window and summoned his Eagle Owl. Grabbing parchment and quill from his desk drawer, he began to scribble.
"I can't watch this," he heard Zabini mutter as he turned away.
Draco wrote quickly:
"Granger,
I don't expect your forgiveness for what happened last night, for what I did and what I said. But I'd never deny you wandering through the Malfoy Library. If you're still interested, I can take you this weekend. We don't have to speak."
With his message penned, Draco rolled it, sealed it, and sent his Eagle Owl when she came pecking at his window.
"Don't do it," Zabini exclaimed urgently as Draco's owl took flight around the turret of his window.
"He fucking did it. That's the craziest shit I've ever seen you do, and I watched you torture Dolohov," Theo added quickly, looking back toward Blaise.
Draco just drank, taking deep swigs as his heart pounded. Was that desperate?
He was going to come off like a complete lunatic, wasn't he?
Barely five minutes had passed before his owl returned to the window, tapping against it with a parchment rolled up in its beak.
"No," Blaise roared in disbelief.
Draco grabbed for the note greedily.
"Do you have ‘Death of Pandora and other Forbidden Spells’?"
That was the entire message. Draco even flipped it over, hoping for more information.
"Do you have that? Is it a book?" Theo peered over his shoulder, trying to make sense of the message.
"I don't know, but I'll get it if I don't," Draco shot back, determination clear in his voice as he scribbled a response.
"Yes." Clear, concise, simple.
He reattached the message to his owl and sent it off once more. Hermione must have been in her room because her response came quickly.
“Saturday, 6:00 PM? We don’t speak,”
"Fucking yes!" Draco thought, a surge of triumph coursing through him. He turned to his friends, who both looked baffled.
"Saturday, 6:00 PM, The Floo in the Hogshead. We don’t speak," he scribbled back frantically, reattaching the message to his owl one last time.
He had a shot. He'd deal with the "not speaking" part later, but for now, he had a shot.
"Alright, let’s drink," he said, clapping his friends on the shoulders, both still staring wildly.
Hermione Granger was single.
Hermione Granger was livid with him.
Hermione Granger might never forgive him.
But it was a hell of a better shot than he ever had before, with Weasley in the way.
He wouldn’t let a fucking moronic mistake ruin this. He had crawled back from worse; and he can crawl back from this. Regardless of how long it took to regain her good graces, he was going to do it.
He was all in.
Chapter 21: Friends
Chapter Text
Hermione wasn’t in class the next day, neither was Malfoy. Ron had shown up to his only class of the day, and Ginny felt uneasy about the fact that she still hadn’t spoken with Hermione yet. She didn’t want her to think she was upset at her in any way.
Ginny had hoped to catch Hermione on the way to Defense Against the Dark Arts or at lunch, but there hadn’t been any sign of her. It was mid-week, and the gossip about Ron and Hermione's breakup was spreading. It finally was eclipsing her own with Harry.
She felt thankful, yet guilty for it.
Rumors, the foulest ones, suggested that Ron had caught Hermione mid-shag with Malfoy, and that’s why they fought. Even worse rumors suggested that Malfoy had her under some spell or potion, which caused their breakup. Regardless of what was being said, none of it was true. Ginny had gone through it herself, and she didn’t want Hermione to suffer.
Especially if she thought she was alone. Ginny knew Harry would bounce between them both, but in reality, he would always lean more towards Ron. They were boys... just what boys did.
Ginny had the late afternoon free, and she decided to go into the 8th-year dormitories to see if Hermione was in her room. Ron and Harry had both gone down to Hagrid's for a visit, so she thought it was the perfect time to visit without being interrupted.
She knocked lightly and heard footsteps behind the door, but there was no response. She knocked again, and this time the footsteps stopped.
“Mione, it’s me… I know you’re in there,” Ginny said, grabbing the knob and twisting it.
When she walked into the room, it was the usual tower of books and parchment, but Hermione's bed was unmade. She was sitting there, her hair wilder than usual, and there were purplish bags under her eyes, reddened from tears.
“How are you? I’d come sooner. I’d hoped to catch you in class,” Ginny said quietly, moving towards her.
“I’m alright, Gin, as best as I can be. Harry was already here this morning. You could tell this puts him in a tough spot. Not like it's one he hasn’t been in before,” Hermione said through a sniffle.
“I spoke with Ron last night... Zabini told me what happened. Ron’s an ass for going off like that, but... Hermione, Malfoy?” Ginny delicately approached the subject.
“Not you too, Gin,” Hermione rolled her eyes.
“I’m just asking… I was there in Hogsmeade remember? His eyes were more than friendship.. but are yours?” Ginny was trying to put this delicately.
“Honestly? Yes…..and I know it sounds mad, Gin, it’s Malfoy out of all people, but there is something there that I can’t pretend isn’t. And I know you might hate me because I told Ron there wasn’t, but you didn’t see his face, see his rage. I wasn’t completely lying though... I didn’t end things because of Malfoy. You and I both know that Ron and I weren’t really working. We tried, and I love him so much, but it’s not the right type of love.. And now that we have our entire future ahead of us, I didn’t want us both to live our whole lives as partners who are just better friends.. he deserves more than that too,” Hermione said dully.
“Malfoy? Draco Malfoy?” Ginny couldn’t believe it. Sure, she had to admit that Draco was hot, if you were into tall, pale, tattooed types of guys, but he was the twattiest of twats.
“You can’t tell Ron or Harry, I know that’s a big ask, but nothing has happened and maybe these feelings will just go away on their own,” Hermione said, trying to convince herself.
“I’m not one to judge, look at me and Blaise… but I just thought.. after everything Malfoy has done to you, done to us all..” Ginny added.
“I’ve gotten to know him these past months, and he’s trying, he’s not that same person...” Hermione urged.
“Hermione, you don’t have to worry about me hating you, or being angry. Yes, Ron’s my brother but you’re my best friend, and I would support you no matter what, even if you do want to shag a Death Eater,” Ginny tried to add some lightness to her tone, but she felt it come out harshly.
“Gin,” Hermione said, looking hurt.
“I’m sorry, that came out wrong. You’ve supported me in this fucking insanity with Blaise, I’ll be there regardless of what happens… I can’t say the same about Ron, but you’ll always have me. Alright? Dad, George, Bill, Charlie wouldn’t hold a grudge… Mum and Percy might need some coming around if you do start dating Malfoy,” Ginny said quickly.
“Gin.. I don’t know if I’m ready yet to let someone else in, especially Malfoy. I think he already holds too much power over my emotions, I’m terrified to give into it,” Hermione admitted, her vulnerability showing.
“I know the feeling, but Hermione, it’s fucking freeing once you do,” Ginny smiled lightly, understanding exactly where her mind was at. Hermione may have been more cautious than she was, but Ginny had never felt like this in her life, the way she did when she was with Blaise – in control, wanted, a woman, not a child.
“I think that’s a little different,” Hermione finally smirked.
“I don’t… you know you don’t have to do this alone. Plus, we can finally start talking about our sex lives without me feeling utterly repulsed. And you know you’re still coming home for Christmas. I can make sure you don’t have to spend much time with Ron, we can go into the market or take a day trip,” Ginny tried.
“Actually, Harry was here this morning, and with Grimmauld Place finally completed, we’re going to do the Holidays there, we just to give you both some space..” Hermione admitted, trying to avoid Ginny’s stare.
Ginny was surprised at how much she was hurt by it. She shouldn’t have been, it was to be expected, but she hadn’t really thought about Hermione or Harry not being around this year. Last year's Christmas was awful without Hermione, Ron, and Harry, and she was looking forward to making a final memory, a good memory.
“But we’re still going to come over for Christmas dinner, if you’ll have us,” Hermione interjected, no doubt sensing Ginny’s unease.
“Of course,” Ginny said quickly to diffuse any tension.
“So…. How bad is it out there?” Hermione asked, and Ginny knew exactly what she was talking about.
“Well, I heard from Romilda Vane that you’ve been Imperio’d and Draco has been using you as a sex slave. Then I heard another rumor – I love this one by the way– that Ron and Harry are in a romantic relationship, that’s why Harry and I broke up and Draco caught them in the act, told you, and then you broke up with Ron causing the fight,” Ginny laughed. “I’ve been telling everyone the last one is true,” she smiled again, as Hermione let out a reluctant laugh.
“Alright, that’s not as bad as I thought it would be… it’s all just ridiculous,” Hermione said in a huff.
“Exactly, it’s ridiculous, so let’s get out of bed, clean yourself up and go back to being Hermione fucking Granger?” Ginny said, grabbing her friend’s hand and standing her on her feet.
“Let’s do Hogsmeade on Saturday, I’m going with Luna and a few of the girls from my dorm so I figured you’d want to come. We can drink, not that much though… I can’t make it through that tunnel again,” Ginny warned.
“Ah, that’s really nice, but I’ve agreed to go to Malfoy Manor’s Library. I’m looking for a specific text, and Malfoy has it, so he’s taking me. But we aren’t speaking, it’s purely academic,” Hermione said quickly.
“Right… ‘purely academic.’ A library is the most seductive place you could be in.” Ginny was a little apprehensive.
Hermione had just said she wanted space from Draco to figure out her feelings, that she was still angry about his actions the other night, yet was going to spend time alone, away from the castle, with him, in his Manor.
Ginny knew they’d fall into the same trap she and Blaise did, regardless of what Hermione was saying to her now.
“Honestly! I’m still furious with him about the other night… but I want that book, and I need him to get access to it, plus I’ve told him we aren’t speaking,” Hermione continued, trying to convince herself or Ginny. Ginny wasn’t sure.
“Well, do let me know how the sex is, I’d love to know what Malfoy’s like in bed. I feel like he’s a groaner” Ginny grinned.
“Ginny! It’s not happening,” Hermione protested.
“If it does, you can tell me… it’s fine, and I won’t say anything to anyone. You’ve kept my secret, I’ll keep yours?” Ginny smiled again.
She did wish Hermione could be interested in literally anyone else.
Ginny would always harbor resentment toward Draco, but if she had learned anything from getting closer to Blaise, diving into his memories, and understanding their roles in the war, Ginny could empathize with Hermione's potential newfound understanding of the blond ex-Death Eater.
Reflecting on her own past judgments and subsequent realizations of their fallibility, she wasn’t anyone to judge anymore.
She had judged, and she was wrong. She could be wrong about Draco as well.
Harry felt like his head was going to explode. It was like he was back in his sixth year, caught in the same tangled mess of emotions and relationships.
Did he have a time-turner around his neck or something? It was Lavender Brown and the birds all over again. Ron and Hermione broke up, putting him in yet another difficult position.
He had sensed the tension between his two best friends for a while, but he had hoped that after the past year, they’d work it out.
He had sought out Hermione early in the morning after speaking to Ron. Ron had been moody and didn’t say much, leaving Hermione to fill him in on the fight with Malfoy. Hermione liking Malfoy was utterly crazy, and it was even wilder that Ron believed that nonsense.
Harry worried that it was just an excuse for Ron to lash out at someone, because never in a thousand years or a thousand universes could Hermione develop feelings for Draco Malfoy.
Harry felt guilty about not spending as much time with Hermione as he did with Ron, but their schedules didn't align. All his classes were with Ron, and Hermione, true to form, poured herself into studying. He had tried to get her to spend some time with him on Saturday before taking Ron into Hogsmeade, but she refused, citing her workload.
Reluctantly, he convinced Ron to let him take him to Hogsmeade this weekend, hoping a few butterbeers might shake him out of his current mood. But Harry knew Ron well enough to know that these mood swings could last a long time.
Why couldn't everything just be normal? The girls were acting erratic, first Ginny, then Hermione. It was as if they were suddenly different people, no longer interested in what they had all been through together. He didn't understand girls.
He tried, but the more he attempted to reconcile with Ginny or talk to Hermione, the more he felt like he was sinking deeper into a pool of confusion.
Ron was easier. They'd exchange a few murmurs on the matter, maybe share a few pints, then go back to talking about school, Auror training, or Quidditch. They didn't need to dissect every little emotion like Hermione and Ginny did.
Hermione finally emerged from hiding mid-week, and so did Malfoy, whispers following them both as they awkwardly navigated the halls.
Harry couldn't help but notice the strange looks he received when walking with Ron, accompanied by light whispers. He shrugged them off, assuming they were gossiping about the most recent war hero breakup.
It was Saturday afternoon, and he and Hermione had only managed to have a few conversations and meals together. She insisted she was fine and that her afternoon would be spent diving into new books, a dull Saturday in Harry's opinion but clearly not for Hermione.
Putting on his boots, Harry prepared to make his way down to Ron's room, feeling a slight apprehension about what kind of Ron he would find. Nonetheless, he knocked on the door, his spirits high.
Ron swung the door open, still half-dressed, the room a mess in classic Ron fashion.
"Why aren't you dressed? We said 3…," Harry asked annoyed.
"Do we have to go? What if we stayed here? Played Wizarding Chess, cracked a few butterbeers," Ron retorted dully.
"We do that almost every night, plus Seamus and Dean are going to meet us. It'll be good for you to get out, some fresh air and all that nonsense," Harry tried again, his patience wearing thin.
“Bloody hell, alright…” Ron groaned, finally pulling on a jumper and jeans, dragging his feet as they walked down the steps of the castle. Harry pivoted to any conversation topic he knew Ron would like: Quidditch, Auror Training, The Burrow—avidly avoiding anything to do with Hermione or Malfoy.
That’s when he put his first foot in his mouth.
“About that… You're still coming for the Christmas Holidays?”
“Ah, well, actually… I already spoke to Hermione about this, but Grimmauld Place will be ready. And with everything going on with Ginny, you, and Hermione, I thought we’d do Christmas there and just come for dinner… that is if you still want Hermione to come. I can’t leave her alone over the holidays, Ron, or for dinner,” Harry said defensively.
“Fucking hell… this is ruining everything… You’re not staying at all then?” Ron said back viciously.
“You understand why, right? I’m not leaving Hermione alone, and I want to give Ginny her space,” Harry replied.
“Yeah, I bloody get it. Just sucks is all… Obviously, ‘Mione can come for dinner. Mum and Dad would never let me uninvite her, plus I wouldn’t do that no matter how angry I am… just as long as she doesn’t bring Malfoy…”
“Come off it, you don’t really believe that. Malfoy? That’s mad, Ron,” Harry replied.
“I do. You may not have noticed it, but I do… His eyes are always all over her,” Ron spat.
“Nott told me that they are just compatible with schoolwork, and they are in almost every class together. You may be looking at this the wrong way,” Harry countered.
“You’re looking at it the wrong way,” Ron retorted quickly.
Harry just grimaced. How much longer could he endure this? Ron with Lavender was bad enough, but at least Ron wasn’t mean, that time it was just Hermione.
Harry needed that butterbeer, and fast.
They pushed open the door to The Three Broomsticks. It was full of students. Dean and Seamus had saved them a seat in the booth, and they went over to put their coats down with them.
Harry scanned the bar. In a far tucked away corner were Zabini, Nott, Malfoy, and Parkinson. Theo smiled at him as their eyes caught. Harry gave back a quick nod as he looked for more familiar faces.
Ginny and Luna were sitting at a small table in the corner, a few other seventh years with them.
The pretty blonde server, Gwen, quickly rushed over with a few pints, and Harry chugged his down quickly, asking for another.
"What’s gotten into you, Potter?" Dean laughed as he sipped his.
"Long week," Harry quipped.
"I figured it’d be this bloke here who needed the drink," Seamus said patting Ron on the back, and Harry shot him a look, silently urging him to drop it.
"And why’s that?" Ron spat, unwittingly stirring up trouble.
Oh god, Seamus awakened the bull again.
"Just... with everything... never mind," Seamus shot back quickly, trying to diffuse the tension, giving an awkward smile to Harry.
"You know, Seamus and I were headed back to the castle after this one," Dean remarked, clearly not enjoying the atmosphere Ron brought with him.
Harry internally dreaded this. He had hoped to have another crutch; Dean and Seamus could have been that. Now they were leaving him here with Mad-Eye Moody the 2nd.
"Cheers," Harry said as Dean and Seamus finished their drinks and left. Ron was still scowling at the entire room, his eyes darting to where the chic blonde hair of Malfoy sat, shooting whiskies with his friends.
"Where’s Hermione?" Ron finally asked, on his third butterbeer.
"Books, studying? Not sure, she said she was going to the library,” Harry said, then seeing Ron’s eye line added “And clearly alone..." nudging toward where Malfoy was sitting.
Harry and Ron had sat for a few hours. It was looming at 6:00 PM, and Harry could barely get more than a few uninterested grunts from Ron, regardless of the topic. He was about to call it quits when two figures slumped in front of their table, both wearing matching devilish grins.
"Weasley, you promised me Fire Whiskey, or have you forgotten?" Pansy Parkinson stood at the edge of their table, clad in all black - a button-up cardigan, a skin-tight short skirt, and leotards underneath. Her lips were cherry red, and her eyes were slightly bloodshot.
Theo stood beside her in trousers and a button-up shirt. They could have passed for twins by what they were wearing, matching all-black outfits. Pansy had goblin-wrought silver snakes dangling from her ears, but Theo’s shaggy brown hair and perfect jawline gave warmth to them both.
“I’m not feeling very fun today, Parkinson,” Ron said, sitting back, but his eyes finally showing some life.
“You’ve never been fun, but a promise is a promise,” she said back, throwing herself down next to Ron, he let out a reluctant huff.
“Alright then, Potter?” Theo said with a big grin, pushing his way beside him.
Harry scanned the room. Zabini and Malfoy were gone, and the table Ginny was sitting at now was just a few seventh years and Luna. He hadn’t even seen her leave.
“Where are the other two snakes?” Harry asked quickly.
“Better things to do, I guess,” Theo shrugged casually.
Gwen came swiftly, dropping off a bottle of Fire Whiskey with four glasses. Pansy uncorked it as soon as the glass hit the table, pouring all four. Ron shot it down immediately, and Pansy gave him a half grin before refilling his glass.
“Weasley, are you sure about that? Last time Gryffindors drank with us, they couldn’t keep up,” Theo said with a coy grin.
“We aren’t a couple of girls,” Ron said abruptly.
“Speak for yourself, I’ve always been a lightweight,” Harry admitted, sipping his glass. Theo turned to him, his smile so wide he was showing teeth.
“I’m so shocked by that, Potter. I pegged you for a heavy,” Theo winked, his gesture sending a weird little tingle through Harry.
“Harry? A heavyweight, never” Ron interjected.
“Weasley, you were a wreck the first night back after that pong game,” Pansy spat quickly.
“That’s not fair, Parkinson. I was already wasted before downing five cups full of whiskey,” Ron retorted.
“Such a big man” Pansy sneered back sarcastically. Harry noticed Ron turning slightly red, surprised by how talkative he was becoming. It was astonishing that it was Pansy Parkinson who brought it out of him.
Exhaustion crept in; whiskey never really sat well with him. The constant back and forth, the emotional toll of this week, and the Quidditch practices had been more grueling than ever. He yawned, feeling drained.
Ron seemed to be in high spirits, laughing and bantering with Pansy like old friends, it was weird.
After about an hour, Harry decided it was time to head back.
“I’m gonna head back to the castle?” Harry asked, Ron looked back at him, slightly astonished.
“I’ll walk with you, Potter,” Theo offered.
Meanwhile, Pansy seemed content to stay and enjoy the bottle of Fire Whiskey that was now half empty.
“I deserve this bottle, and I’m not drinking alone,” Pansy said, flashing a smile.
“Alright, Ron?” Harry said one last time, giving Ron the chance to go with him.
“I’ll catch ya later, I owe her one,” Ron smiled, and Pansy shot him a hard look.
Nott grabbed Harry’s jacket and passed it to him, as they walked away from The Three Broomsticks, the late evening fog hung heavily in the air, reminding Harry eerily of Dementors. Theo walked backward, facing Harry.
"It's been a minute. How's the Prince of Hogwarts holding up?" Theo asked with a smile.
"I don’t like that nickname, and I’ve been better," Harry replied curtly.
"Which one is it, your breakup or Granger and Weasleys?" Theo prodded.
Harry shot him a look, but Theo just smiled back knowingly.
"You don’t get it; it puts me in an awful position. Hermione doesn’t have a family anymore, Ron, me, and the Weasleys, it’s all she has, it’s all I have. But it’s not fair for the two of us to put that on Ron and Ginny. I already had the awkward conversation about the upcoming holiday break..." Harry explained.
"The holiday break?" Theo questioned.
"Yeah, Grimmauld Place. My godfather left it to me, and I've been fixing it up all year. Hermione will stay with me there for three weeks. Before all this, we probably would have stayed at the Burrow. Ron’s sour I'm not going any longer, but I’d never leave Hermione alone, not after last year,"
"You spent it just the two of you, didn’t you? Maybe that rubs Weasley the wrong way, after having that just thrown in his face, another year he isn’t a part of it," Theo suggested.
"How’d you-" Harry began, but Theo interrupted.
"Malfoy saw it in Granger's Pensieve. He used it against Weasley. It’s the reason he got a punch in the face. Regardless, I’m sure the Weasel doesn’t want to think about the second year in a row without you two," Theo added. Harry was shocked; he hadn’t thought of that.
Theo had this way of looking at things, and understanding people's emotions. It always impressed Harry how attuned he was. He was jealous of it.
“I like how you do that,” Harry admitted, maybe it was the whiskey.
“Do what?” Theo inquired.
“Make sense of people’s feelings. I’m bloody awful at it. Hermione always tells me that. You seem to understand the emotions that bring out the best and worst in people... I wish I could,” Harry confessed.
Theo turned, looking at Harry, and he sensed the mask slipping off again.
“I’ve had to hide a lot of my true self, Potter. I got used to digging it out of others,” Theo explained.
“You hide behind your sarcastic mask, but that’s not who you are,”
“Ah, don’t pretend to know me that well. I am a sarcastic ass... I just have a serious side I only show friends,” Theo admitted.
“So, we’re friends?” Harry asked tentatively.
“If you want to be,” Theo replied with a smile, causing another shiver to run down Harry’s spine. It was strange how Theo was making him feel—uncomfortable yet oddly familiar.
“I do,” Harry felt his cheeks run hot.
“Alright, friend... Tell me more about these holiday plans,” Theo urged.
“I don’t have any. Figured Hermione and I might do some exploring in London. I want to keep her mind busy,” Harry explained.
“Keep her mind off the Weasel,” Theo remarked.
“And her parents. It will be the second year without them. Last year was a mess, so I don’t think she really thought about it. Knowing they were safe was enough. After the war ended, I think she truly believed she’d get them back, but...” Harry trailed off, uncertain of how much more he should say.
“If you don’t mind me asking, what happened to them?” Theo inquired gently.
“Ahh, well, she erased their memories and relocated them to Australia to keep them safe. Once Voldemort knew she was with me, she knew they’d be in danger. She’s been working with a team of Healers since the end of the war to get them restored, but it looks unlikely,” Harry explained.
“I’m sorry... I didn’t know,” Theo said genuinely.
“Not many people do,” Harry continued. “She did that for me... I want to try to make sure she has a good Christmas this year.”
“I understand,” Theo said delicately, his tone soft.
“Nott, what are your holiday plans?” Harry asked, surprising even himself.
“I’m now the sole heir of the Nott Estate since my father is dead, so I’ll be drinking alone... or maybe with Malfoy,” Theo chuckled.
“Come for Christmas Eve?” Harry blurted out.
“To Grimmauld Place?” Theo clarified.
“Yeah... why not? I’ll get Kreacher to do food and drinks... it could be fun?” Harry suggested.
Harry thought about it. It could be. He felt bad for Theo, wandering alone in that cavernous mansion, drinking with the stoic and somber Draco Malfoy for company. It sounded almost as bad as being ripped apart by Nagini.
It could have also been the Fire Whiskey talking, but he wanted Theo to be there. He liked his company. They were... friends?
“Are you sure?” Theo asked, genuinely surprised.
“Hermione might be sick of just me at that point. I think she’d like it if you joined... I would,” Harry insisted, feeling his cheeks hot again.
“Alright, I’ll be there, with a case of booze….friend,” Theo smirked, leaning and nudging Harry’s shoulder with his.
Chapter 22: PBD
Notes:
**** WARNING ***
Very R Rated Content Ahead.
SMUT, so much.
Chapter Text
Ron’s week had been absolute garbage; he barely paid attention in class, feeling distracted and empty without Hermione. While Harry had been doing whatever he could to make sure Ron was feeling alright, he needed time. This wound wasn’t going to heal overnight.
The worst part was that he didn’t even feel saddened by the loss of his physical relationship with Hermione; he was saddened that they weren’t friends.
He couldn’t just knock on her door or casually stroll down the hall to joke with her.
Their sexual chemistry had always been slightly off. They had tried, and it was good, as good as he thought it could be, but now he didn’t know how to get back to that, how to regain their friendship. To be fair, he hadn’t felt friendly toward her since the fourth year—that’s when his feelings began to change.
It was brand new territory, something he wasn’t going to be able to navigate easily, especially given the fact that Malfoy was creeping his way into her life. Ron didn’t give a damn about what Harry said; he knew what he saw in Pansy’s Pensive, and he remembered the sneer Draco gave when Ron found out that Hermione slept in his bed—the look of victory. Malfoy wanted Hermione, regardless of whether Harry wanted to see it.
He meant every word he said; he didn’t know how to forgive or move on with Hermione if something happened between her and Draco. He hated him too much.
The rage stemming from the constant bullying, Malfoy's actions or lack thereof during the war, letting Death Eaters into the school—resulting in one savaging Bill—the death of Fred, the mockery of his parents, his family; Malfoy was a cunt and always would be.
Ron couldn’t understand what redeeming qualities he had, or how he could win her over, and he didn’t want to be a part of her life if Malfoy was in it.
Ron and Hermione hadn’t spoken at all since that night, since he slammed the door. He only caught sight of her briefly in the hallways, and sometimes leaving the Great Hall after him and Harry.
He felt guilt, but he wasn’t ready to reach out, to bridge the gap. Finding out Harry wasn’t spending the holidays with his family felt like a nail in the coffin.
He was already feeling like his friendships were falling apart, and while he couldn’t fault Harry, that didn’t mean he wasn’t allowing himself to be upset with the situation.
Hermione and Harry were a welcomed distraction from the loss of Fred. His Mum and Dad spent a lot of time making sure they were comfortable, and it seemed to work. Without them, his entire family would be forced to recognize their grief.
Harry had dragged Ron to Hogsmeade, knowing he wouldn’t be thrilling company. However, now that he was here, and with Parkinson joining them, and the fact they were three-quarters of their way through a bottle of Fire Whiskey, it seemed to be taking the edge off.
Parkinson, a person he never would have imagined saying this about before, was good company.
She took his mind off everything. With Harry as a constant reminder that he didn’t have Hermione, it felt strange just the two of them, like there was a missing link. But with Pansy, it didn’t matter. It was just like two enemies breaking bread. She was fiery, and fun, and Ron didn’t have to constantly watch what he said; it took a lot to offend her. If he could at all.
Harry had just left, Theo walking with him back towards the castle. Hogwarts curfew was at 8:00 PM, and Ron only had another half-hour before they both needed to be back up at the school.
"We have half this bottle left and only a half-hour," he said, looking at Pansy, his eyes already strained from the alcohol coursing through his system.
"Is that a challenge?" Pansy sneered back.
"It could be, or we could swipe the bottle and walk back with it?" Ron suggested cautiously, not daring to push himself much further. He remembered losing Beer Pong to Malfoy and Nott all too well, the burn coming back up.
"A surprisingly good idea," Pansy agreed.
"Why is it always a surprise? I’ve helped you loads; you know we couldn’t have gotten through those challenges without me," Ron pointed out.
"You were terrified to even go into the Forest, I had to bully you in there," Pansy retorted.
Ron smirked slightly, remembering her calling him a pussy.
"There was no need to call me a pussy. I almost got eaten alive by hundreds of Acromantulas when I was twelve. You'd be scarred for life too," he shot back, his tone teasing.
“I’d never get into a situation where I’d be around a hundred Acromantulas. You and Potter have done some pretty stupid shit,”
“Stupid shit? You mean brave shit,” Ron countered.
“Don’t those two go hand in hand in Gryffindor?” she laughed
He rolled his eyes at her and poured another shot.
“Alright, Weasley, grab my coat…. I’ll swipe the bottle so Gwen doesn’t notice.”
“Hand me my wallet. I’m still going to pay for it,” Ron insisted.
“Suit yourself,” she shot back. Within seconds, the bottle had vanished, and Ron was standing, tossing the coat to her as he took out a few galleons that he had saved from working at the shop this summer.
Pansy was out the door before he could even turn. She was quick, he realized, his head feeling lighter, the whiskey burning in his veins. He felt good.
“You’re a minx, Parkinson,” he huffed, looking up at her as she stood in front of the pathway, swigging directly from the bottle.
“You have to be quick, Weasley. Do you know how many blokes this summer fell prey to the Parkinson drink and dash?” she laughed, the moon starting to lift in the sky, the path ahead back to the school empty.
“The drink and dash?” he questioned.
“You flirt with some unsuspecting bloke, get them to buy you a drink, and once you get it - dash,” she explained.
“Bloody hell, I guess I should be glad I’m not walking to the castle alone then?” he laughed.
“Well... I would have had to flirt with you first for this to be a drink and dash. Plus, I don’t want to walk to the castle alone. What better protection than famed war hero Ron Weasley?” she said in a sarcastic mimicking voice.
It didn’t matter that it was sarcastic; Ron liked it. He felt a pulse of heat at her words and watched as Parkinson’s lips pressed themselves around the top of the bottle.
“You say it like it’s a bad thing, but I think you like it,” Ron said, grabbing the bottle from her hands and taking a swig.
“Gag me,” she shot back, and Ron laughed as the whiskey burned.
“Did you want to talk about...you know? Granger... or anything?” she asked tentatively.
“Why would I want to do that?” he quipped.
“Apparently, it’s the thing to ask when someone you know is going through a tough time. It’s called being nice,” Pansy explained.
“I don’t like it when you’re nice, Parkinson. It’s off-putting,” Ron said jokingly, though he sort of meant it. Pansy was supposed to be a welcome escape from the persona he held with Harry and Hermione.
“Thank Merlin, it’s dreadfully hard not to be mean to you,” she said back, her speech slurring slightly.
“What are your plans then? Can’t just be getting pissed at 8:00 PM on a Saturday and calling it a night,” Ron asked, trying to break the silence.
“That was my plan... but it sounds rather pathetic when you put it like that,” Pansy replied with a grimace, finishing the last of the cinnamon-burning liquid.
“I have another bottle of whiskey in my room. We could play Wizarding Chess,” Ron suggested, hoping she'd agree. He didn't want to spend the rest of his evening alone either.
“I'm not that pathetic,” she shot back, but there was a hint of curiosity in her tone.
“Suit yourself,” Ron said, though inwardly he hoped she'd agree.
“What vintage?” she asked tentatively.
“The regular one? I don’t know, the one that only costs a galleon,” Ron replied.
“Fucking hell, Weasley. I’ll grab the good bottle from my room,” she said, relenting.
“So, you’ll come?” Ron asked, smiling at her.
“Only because of my massive empathy for how sad your offer was,” Pansy teased.
“Right... like your night was going to be any better,” Ron retorted as they walked up the steps into the castle. Filch was waiting, and it was 7:55 PM. He was tapping his foot, getting ready to lock the doors. Ron and Pansy held their breath, trying not to give away that they were absolutely pissed.
When the Common Room doors opened, they were both surprised at how tame the room was. Besides a few small clusters of students talking and playing music, it wasn't raging like it was on most weekends.
Pansy headed toward her dormitory, and Ron walked into his.
He had just pulled off his sweater, wearing just his white t-shirt and jeans, when the door to his room reopened and Pansy entered. She had taken off her leotards and was now just in the skirt and cardigan.
Ron gulped.
He hadn't noticed how short the skirt was until he could see her bare legs.
"What the fucking hell, Weasley, it's a pigsty in here," Pansy said, looking around the room with disdain, a freshly corked bottle of whiskey in her hands.
"It’s just a few clothes on the floor," he replied defensively, looking around.
Granted, there may have been some high piles, his closet door was open and messy, his bed unmade, and books scattered everywhere, but he wouldn’t say it was a pigsty.
"Just a few clothes? Why don’t you ask the elves to come in and tidy?" she quipped, stepping over a pile of laundry to his chaise.
"Can't," he said awkwardly.
"Why?!"
"It's a SPEW thing..."
"Ah, a Granger thing," she said with a smile, pouring a glass for them both.
"Doesn’t matter now, does it?" he said, clinking her glass and retrieving his Chess Set.
“Are you sad?” she asked hesitantly.
“I thought we weren’t talking about this,” he said quickly, glancing back at her.
He noticed her dark eyes sparkling in the warm light of the fire, her lips still tinted a deep shade of red. Her hair was perfect, as usual, and her nails—those long, red nails. She had a cheeky little glint in her eyes as she replied.
“I’m just curious,”
“I’m sad about our friendship, and how to move out of this,” he answered honestly, the whiskey burning inside him.
The way Pansy was looking at him made him feel a throb, a throb of desire that had to be the booze.
Just the booze.
It couldn’t have been Pansy.
Was it?
“You’ll be fine. I’m sure there are loads of girls who will be lining up at your door,” she said, her tone devoid of sarcasm.
“This is what I mean about your nice being off-putting. I can’t tell if that’s genuine or if you’re messing with me,”
“I’m being serious! You helped take down the Dark Lord—girls must love that,” she said, shifting her body so she was lounging on his chair, her legs sprawled.
“I’ve yet to wake up to a line, so I guess you’re wrong,” he chuckled.
She rolled her eyes, their bloodshot hue catching his attention. Her mouth hung gently over the rim of her glass as she steadied herself for another deep drink.
She finished her entire glass of whiskey before looking back up at him, wiping the dribble that ran down her lower lip with her tongue.
“Do you want to fuck me Weasley?”
Ron felt a twitch in his body, wondering if she had gone insane.
"Ah, what?" he felt himself stammering, his mind racing. The alcohol surged through his veins, clouding his vision and lightening up his entire body.
He felt a stirring in his groin. He shifted uncomfortably, knowing his face must have been bright red.
“Do you want to fuck me? I didn’t stutter,” she said back deadpanned.
"Ah, Parkinson," Ron croaked, his voice strained. His blood skyrocketed toward his cock, leaving him lightheaded. "I think you might have had too much whiskey. Maybe I've had too much whiskey," he babbled, trying to break the tension as her gaze remained fixed on him.
She rose from his chaise, her movements deliberate, her feet gliding gracefully over the ground. Her toenails matched the shade of red on her fingers, a detail Ron couldn't help but notice.
As she approached him, she reached for the top button of her cardigan, each one coming undone with tantalizing slowness.
Fuck.
Ron's breath caught in his throat as he watched, unable to tear his eyes away. Finally, she stood over him, her soft creamy skin exposed, the lacey black bra barely covering anything.
He was mesmerized, unable to tear his eyes away from her. She was fucking beautiful, and he found himself captivated by every movement she made.
She moved closer, the tension between them intensified, leaving him feeling almost paralyzed. When she positioned herself over him, one leg on either side, the closeness was suffocating, deliciously so.
Her head dipped down, her breath mingling with his, and he could smell the whiskey on her lips, along with hints of fig, amber, and cherry. Her fingers, with those long nails, trailed along his scalp, pushing back his hair as she drew nearer.
“It’s definitely the whiskey, but my question stays the same... do you?”
Her lips almost touching his as she spoke, her words barely audible over their heavy breathing. She took his wrist, her touch sending a jolt of electricity through him. Her hands were unbelievably soft as she guided his hand to her thigh.
“Yes….” he managed, as his hardened cock was already making his intention clear.
Every ounce of his being was focused on the sensation of her skin beneath his fingertips. He couldn't think straight, couldn't breathe without feeling the anticipation of what his hands were about to feel.
She moved his hand between her thighs, the fabric of her skirt against his touch, like silk. He ran his hand upward, his heart pounding in his chest. With her forehead resting against his, lost in the intensity of the moment. It was the most aroused he had ever felt.
She parted her thighs further, inviting, and at that moment — a soft moan escaped her lips. It was like sweet fucking music to his ears, a sound he never imagined he'd hear from Pansy Parkinson.
His fingers traced over her skin, he realized she wasn't wearing any underwear. The wetness between her thighs; dripping with arousal, spreading like honey over his fingers as they dipped into her cunt.
"You aren't wearing any knickers," he breathed, leaning in closer. With his left hand wrapped around her nape, as he explored her soaked pussy with the other, she responded with louder moans, her nails tangling in his hair.
His lips danced over her collarbone.
“I never do,” she breathed back deeply.
"So this isn't just for me," he groaned, pushing his index and middle finger deeper at that exact moment.
"That's not, but the rest of it is," she moaned loudly again, grinding her hips into him, drenching him once again.
The hand he had around her neck he moved down her back to the small clasp on the thin material that separated him from her breasts.
With a snap of his fingers, it fell off, and Pansy let it hang down her arms as his mouth immediately went to her newly exposed nipples.
They were perfect, the most perfect things he had ever seen in his life. His tongue glided over them, and Pansy dug her nails deeper into his skull, still grinding on top of him.
He was so fucking hard he couldn’t think straight; it was just her. The taste of her, the delicious flavor of her sweat.
Suddenly, she pulled away from him, breaking the spell. He felt as if the magic had been ripped away, but her big fuck me eyes were now looking up at him, the fire still reflecting in them. She was on her knees, her breasts still out as he rolled one in his hand.
“Take off your pants,” she said, the words so sexy on her tongue.
He did as she said, not even considering disobeying her. He pulled down his jeans, and her eyes were fixed on his throbbing cock. She moved her hands over the fabric of his boxers, and he almost fucking came from just the touch of it.
"Fuck," he moaned, his voice heavy as he tightly closed his eyes, relishing in the sensation, a delicious wave of desire crashing over him, making his senses reel.
With another louder groan, his eyes shot open, unable to contain himself as her mouth, those sweet cherry lips, enveloped him.
The warmth of her lips, the softness of her tongue, as she took his entire cock deep in her throat, each movement sending him deeper into a whirlwind of ecstasy, the wetness of it was almost as good as her cunt.
His hands clenched the sides of his bed, knuckles white, as her tongue traced every inch of his shaft —sending bolts of fire coursing through his veins. exquisite torture of her flicking and licking, her eyes darting up to meet his as if watching his face contort in pleasure edged her own.
“Lay on my bed, and spread those fucking legs for me,” he said in a deep growl, and she did as he said, moving quickly, obedient, fuck that turned him on.
She lay before him, completely naked, her chest rising and falling with each breath. Pansy smirked, and her legs spread invitingly, her glistening wetness calling him like a siren, a sight that made his mouth water.
He wanted to lick up every drop.
Slowly, he kissed his way up her thighs, feeling her nails dig again as she eagerly guided him forward. Her grip was firm.
He swam in her arousal, fucking loving the fact that he was the one making her twitch.
His tongue explored, savoring the taste of her like he would mead on a summer's day. He could have stayed between Pansy Parkinson's thighs for hours without needing to come up for air, and she willingly spread her legs further for him. She wasn't shy; she was taking what she wanted.
“Fuck me,” she said beggingly, and he was ready, his cock was aching. He would give anything to have her beg again.
He moved toward her, stroking his cock in his palm for some relief, he edged himself to her opening and dipped his tip into her cunt teasingly.
“Beg for it,” he whispered huskily, leaning over to finally touch his lips to hers. She eagerly responded, gripping him tightly as their tongues entwined together.
She tasted like cinnamon, sweet and potent.
He knew he would never forget the taste, and he’d never drink Fire Whiskey again without thinking of Pansy.
“I thought heroes weren’t supposed to make the damsel wait,” she teased.
“Are you a damsel, Parkinson?” he breathed, inching himself further inside her, barely breaking her in.
She nodded, her tongue flicking up at his lips, and whispered “And Weasley is my King,”
That was all it took to push him over the edge. With a final plunge, filled her completely.
Fuck, fucking, fuck.
His mind was gone, mush, evaporated.
“Fucking hell,” he groaned uncontrollably, unable to contain it. Pansy's pussy was like nothing he had ever experienced before. If this was what drugs felt like, he understood addiction all too well.
Every fiber of his being moved in harmony with hers as she dragged her nails down his back. Despite the pain, he was consumed by the desire to drive deeper into her, their hips moving together with each thrust.
He was plunging into her, in a rhythm that felt primal and raw. She was yelling his name like a chant, each repetition driving him further into an animalistic frenzy.
Ron, Ron, Ronnn, she moaned.
He lifted her thigh onto his shoulder, allowing himself to penetrate even deeper.
He was mesmerized by the sight of her, he watched drunkenly, not only by the whiskey but by her tightness, he watched himself enter her over and over again; her wetness sliding over his cock, the way her tits bounced as he moved in and out of her.
Fucking hell.
He moved his thumb over that little bundle of nerves that he knew he needed to hit to make her face contort. He wanted to see what she looked like when she came, wanted to feel her pussy twist.
“That’s so fucking good,” she moaned as he continued to rub his thumb over her clit.
“Cum for me,” he panted, rubbing faster, his thumb slipping.
"Anything, anything you want," she was utterly surrendered to him, willing to fulfill every craving he had wanted to satisfy for years.
He could feel the familiar surge of climax building, her every touch pushing him closer to it. But even in the throes of his own ecstasy, his focus remained on her.
He wanted to bring her to that same peak of pleasure before he succumbed to his own. With each thrust, he pushed deeper into her, his body leaning over hers, stretching her to the limits.
Their lips met in a sloppy kiss, tongues dancing — he was determined to watch her cum around him.
“Fuck, holy fuck,” she screamed, and he watched, enraptured by the sight of her squirming beneath him.
He could feel the pulsing of her inner muscles gripping him, amplifying his own as he guided her through her orgasm.
Her face moving in pure bliss, her mouth opening in silent cries of his name. Her teeth sank into her lip to stifle the intensity of it.
“Gods, you feel like fucking heaven,” he moaned harder, as he felt himself spill into her, the blood pumping his climax through his entire body.
His breathing was raggedy, as his body pulsed with a heady rush, a residual effect of the Fire Whiskey mixed with his orgasm still coursing through his veins.
Looking down at her, he found her breaths mirroring his own, heavy and labored.
He gulped.
Fucking hell, he didn’t know what to do or what to say. The realization hit him like a ton of bricks: he had just experienced the most mind-blowing sex of his life, and it was with Pansy Parkinson.
"So..ah.. you don’t want to play Chess then?” he said, clearing his throat.
“Fuck off,” she laughed, a genuine laugh that eased the tension.
“I’d ahh… do that again...” he said, rolling over on his side, raising his eyes at her.
“Give me a damn moment Weasley, it’s true about the PBD,” she said breathily.
“The PBD?”
“A thing Greengrass, Davis, and I use to speculate about,” she turned, her naked body still wrapped in his sheets, and he’d do anything to keep her there, her body glistening like freshly fallen snow.
“Are you going to fill me in or am I to keep me guessing?”
“It’s been rumored that Pureblood men are well endowed and very good in the sack,” she said, the naughty smirk he liked back on her face.
“And I’ve proven this theory… right?” he smiled knowingly.
“Utterly,” she smiled, moving away from him slightly, turning on her side, he missed her warmth.
“Are you going to tell me what PBD means?”
“Pure Blood Dick,” she laughed, and within an instant she had her tongue entwined in his again.
Chapter 23: Malfoy Manor
Chapter Text
Hermione had endured one of her worst weeks since returning. She hadn’t spoken to Ron or Malfoy, actively avoiding the bustling Great Hall and the Common Room.
She knew this would blow over eventually, but for now, she didn’t feel like being in the spotlight of it all. Yet she couldn’t escape the whispers in the hallways to class.
Avoiding Draco was fueled by resentment and a firm hold on a grudge.
Ginny found it ridiculous that Hermione still was going to his library, stating ‘If you’re that mad you wouldn’t go’ but she needed that book. It was crucial to finishing her essay for Professor Jones; the rest of her work wouldn’t make sense without it.
Or that’s what she kept telling herself, but whether she admitted it or not a hidden crevice of her brain craved him.
In class, Draco gave her a wide berth, as did Ron. It felt strange not having either of them nearby, especially Ron. Theo sat between them in Alchemy, and Harry positioned himself between them in Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts. Harry did his best to navigate these waters; he had done so before, but he always leaned slightly more towards Ron.
Saturday had finally arrived, the day she had agreed to meet Draco at the Hogshead. They were set to Floo directly to Malfoy Manor but with a stipulation: the Floo line had to lead straight into the library, sparing her from having to step foot in any other part of the estate.
She was a bundle of nerves, torn between giddy excitement and annoyance. A part of her knew deep down that she could easily give in to him. Hermione wished it weren't so, wished she could stand her ground as firmly as she had with Ron, countless times. But there was something about Malfoy that made her feel like she had no control.
She coached herself as she walked through Hogsmeade, the bustling Three Broomsticks packed with students. Ducking down an alley to avoid detection from anyone who might question where she was going, she repeated a silent mantra: "You’re going for a book and only a book." With each step, she tried correcting her brain, as it tried to push lusty thoughts of Malfoy to the front of it, it was as if she could already smell his cologne.
The bell rang above the door, and Aberforth stood behind the bar. She greeted him with a sheepish hello, relieved that he was never one for lengthy conversations.
The hearth crackled warmly as she checked her watch: 5:55 PM. Malfoy hadn’t arrived yet. Just as she was about to take a seat, the bell rang again, and his white-blond hair and tall frame immediately caught her eye.
He spotted her instantly, offering a small smirk and a nod.
Bloody hell, he looked delicious, and she could smell his subtle yet tantalizing scent as soon as he entered the room. His dark blue trousers and cream button-up shirt, sleeves slightly rolled. Running a hand through his hair, he walked over to her, continuing his silence.
They had agreed not to speak, but she realized the silence was too awkward.
“Thank you for agreeing to the terms, but I think some conversation might be okay,” she ventured, feeling herself already starting to cave.
“It’s... it’s good to see you,” his words sounded almost strained as if they were pulled from deep within his chest.
“You first, it’s your home after all,” she continued, trying to keep an edge to her voice.
He walked into the Floo, motioning for her to join him with a simple hand gesture.
She complied, moving beside him, her shoulder brushing against his arm. Even the brief contact sent warmth under her skin making her question the wisdom of this decision.
"Malfoy Manor Library," he roared, and the powder flung from his hand with force, engulfing them in swirling green flames that twisted and twirled together as they hurtled past other Wizarding hearths.
When they emerged on the other side, her eyes took a moment to adjust to the light. But when they did, she was awe-struck.
She stood in a vast fireplace within the grand library, surrounded by rows upon rows of floor-to-ceiling bookcases. A ladder ran along a track, allowing access to the highest shelves.
Stained glass windows lined one wall, filtering soft evening light into the hall, while sconces flickered with flames.
Deep jewel-toned couches and chaises lounged in every corner, inviting her to sink into their embrace. The air was filled with the scent of parchment, leather, and musk, overwhelming her senses most seductively. It was breathtaking, and despite herself, tears welled up involuntarily in her eyes.
“It’s just a library, Granger,” he whispered, his eyes fixed on her face.
“Just a library? You’ve had this in your home your entire life, Malfoy... I’d sleep in here, eat all my meals in here... I'd live in here,” she gushed, her voice filled with awe.
“That can still be arranged, but my bedroom is just upstairs and much more comfortable,” his tone teasing, and she shot him a look of disdain.
Damn it, she had let her guard down, and he pounced on it.
“You have the book?” she said quickly, ignoring his comment.
“Right, back to business,” he said, his expression unsmiling as he turned towards a small coffee table where the book sat waiting. Passing it to her, his face remained stony.
“You can take your time looking around... I don’t have anything else to do, so if you don’t mind, I’ll just relax on the chaise and leave you to it,” he said coldly, and she took a deep breath.
She wanted to accept, wanted to spend all night here, but he would be lingering in the foreground, just like he did constantly in her mind.
Shocking her out of her thoughts with a loud crack. A small house elf appeared.
“Mr. Malfoy is home, oh Topsy is so happy to see him,” the elf gushed, dressed in a crisp clean cloth-like dress, and Hermione was immediately horrified.
“It is lovely to see you, Topsy. Could you please bring a vintage of Odgens, a bucket of ice, and a glass, and for Ms. Granger?” Draco asked the elf.
Fury ignited within Hermione.
“Malfoy, you still dare to have elves?!” she roared.
“Topsy gets paid and has vacation time and benefits. She is an employee... I actually had to convince her to accept more galleons,” Draco replied calmly.
“Yes, yes, Ms. Granger, Mr. Malfoy is so good to Topsy. Topsy loves working for Mr. Malfoy,” the elf added fervently.
“Topsy, Mr. Malfoy pays you?” Hermione asked delicately, hearing Draco scoff.
“Oh yes, Ms. Granger. But Topsy doesn’t like it. She hates the payments and the forced vacations, but Mr. Malfoy insists,” the elf explained.
“Topsy, maybe grab Ms. Granger some of your scones and a pot of tea?” Draco said casually, refusing to meet Hermione's sight, and she felt guilt wash over her.
Guilt that she may have doubted him. With consecutive cracks, Topsy disappeared and returned with a pot of tea, blueberry scones with clotted cream, and Draco's Ogden’s.
“I’m... ah... sorry for doubting you,” she admitted, feeling her face flush with embarrassment.
“Not surprising, though, is it, given my history,” he retorted, his tone icy.
She fidgeted awkwardly, torn between keeping her composure and guilt.
“Granger. You have nothing to feel badly about. I’m just glad you still came after how I acted,” he responded quickly, sensing her unease.
“I trusted you with that, I trusted letting you in, and you broke that trust,”
“Did you want to know the worst part? Parkinson knew. Weasley told her at the beginning of their partnership. She never once said anything. Then she told me that Weasley saw a memory of me, a memory of me talking about you... the night of the Yule Ball. Weasley could have used it, but he didn’t. He didn’t want to betray Pansy’s trust. Do you know how much that fucking ruined me? Knowing that Weasley was the bigger man,” he confessed
Hermione couldn’t believe it. She couldn’t believe that Ron wouldn’t use every weapon in his arsenal to attack Malfoy. In her mind, Ron wasn’t the bigger person; his hatred fueled his actions.
“Ron wasn’t the bigger man. The bigger man wouldn’t have let that situation happen in the first place. He was out of line, the things he said. He may have had more restraint about using his partner’s memories than you did, but that does not make him any better of a person in that moment than you were. You were both idiots,” she snapped back.
She watched his face intently, noting the subtle movements of his eyes and the twitch of his jaw. He cleared his throat, avoiding her as he poured himself a dram.
“Go, explore... if you have any questions... I’ll be here,” he said quietly, and she nodded.
Moving quickly, her mind racing, she cradled her teacup in her hand. It was raining outside, the soft pattering of droplets hitting the windows. Draco sat stretched out on the chaise, engrossed in one of those obscure books with golden lettering.
She started at the very back of the library, drawn to a dimly lit corner filled with ancient parchments, yellowed and bound together with rawhide and animal leather.
First editions of books that would never be allowed in Hogwarts lined the shelves. Scanning the spines, she noticed titles like "Dark Arts - Origins" and "Curses of the Ancient World." Then, to her surprise, she came across a blackened leather binding with black embossing running down the side: “Ancient & Noble House of Black.” She paused, remembering that Narcissa, Draco’s mother, was a Black.
Lost in the labyrinth of bookcases, it must have been nearing 10 PM by the time she reached the center. As she scanned the case, she stumbled upon one book sitting perfectly in front of her, taking her by surprise.
It looked almost new, at least by the standards of the books in this library, and it was the strangest of all: "The Hobbit."
A muggle book.
“Malfoy,” she said, rounding the corner with the book clutched in her hand.
“Have you seen this?” She held out "The Hobbit" towards him, his eyes darting up towards her.
“Yes, have you read it?” he replied, slightly sarcastic.
“It’s a Muggle book, the only one in here,” she said quickly, and he moved from his position to grab the book and open it as if he hadn’t noticed before.
“So it is,” he said with a smile, handing it back to her.
“Why would your family have a Muggle book?” she inquired.
“Isn’t it about dragons, elves, dwarves? Some Muggles are closer to magic than they think. Perhaps it was a gift,” he added casually.
“So you’ve read it,” she noted, feeling a twinge of frustration at his cavalier attitude.
“I have. Why are you so surprised?” he retorted.
“It just seems out of place, like finding a magical book in a Muggle shop... I’m just trying to make sense of it,” she explained.
“Remember I told you, not everything is logic, some of it is feeling,” he reminded her, and she recalled the night in the forest.
She opened the front cover to see small markings; someone had written in the front.
“To your first adventure, Love A”
“Who’s A?” she asked again, but Malfoy just shrugged.
“You’re looking too deeply into this. Is that really the only book that interests you?” he smiled, finally cracking the stony facade of his face.
“Actually, no. There are so many... so many I’d love to read. This one just surprised me, is all,” she said, making a move to walk back to where she found it.
“You can come back anytime,” he said quickly.
“I don’t want to impose. You’ve already been kind enough to have me here tonight,” she replied hesitantly.
“You don’t understand, do you? Having you here... it’s the best memory I have of this place now,” he confessed, his words causing her heart to skip a beat. The strings that held it began fusing back together as his words washed over her.
“Malfoy...” she began, her voice soft.
“Could you ever forgive me? I’ve done nothing but ask for it time and time again. But I can’t stand not being around you. These last few days, not being able to talk to you or be near you... it’s been paralyzing.”
“I’ve already forgiven you. That’s the worst part of it all. You’re always there, in my mind... I can’t escape it. I can’t escape how you make me feel. It’s so painful pretending that I don’t envy the Hermione I was before we were partners. The Hermione who didn’t know what it felt like to have your affection, and before you had mine,” she admitted
“Why... why is it so painful?” he pressed, his eyes searching hers.
“Because I didn’t even think I could experience these feelings. They consume me every day. I’ve fought them down, but I can’t anymore,” she confessed, taking a step closer to him.
It was true. She was finally letting herself embrace what she had forbidden for so long, doing what Ginny had encouraged her to do: be free.
She wanted to know what it felt like to surrender to him, to let it devour her completely. It was terrifying, but also exhilarating.
“I wish I could Obliviate all of your memories of me, and introduce myself as a new man...” he whispered, moving even closer as she stepped back. The bookcase pressed against her back, he was in her space, nearing her face.
The dimness of the room highlighted every inch of his immaculate bone structure. She felt it—the desire—washing over her, without thought, without questions, without guilt.
“Draco,” she breathed, and he was on her in an instant.
His lips were a corrosive heat, melding into hers as if they were meant to be one. Her body felt euphoric, his hands instantly tangled in her hair, cupping her cheeks, bringing her lips into his as if he could never pull away.
“Say it again,” he growled, breaking away from her, the magnetic pull forcing her mouth back to his as she repeated his name.
“Draco,”
“I could die right now, knowing the last thing I heard was my name on your lips... you have no idea what you’ve done to me,” he confessed, wrapping his hand around her waist and lifting her against the bookshelf.
She felt the coolness of his signet ring on the patch of skin on her back that was exposed, sending a delicious shiver through her.
She let her head roll back, his mouth trailing kisses along her neck and collarbone like a painter over his canvas.
She was letting herself be free, and Ginny was right—it was incredible. The feeling of Draco Malfoy against her was like a phoenix rising from the ashes. She never knew she could feel so at peace, so lost in desire, that her brain shut off and all that existed was the intoxicating sensation of him.
Draco held her tight, his lips refusing to part from hers as his moans escaped between brief moments of air. He shifted his leg between hers, positioning her snugly between them. She was certain he could feel the pulsing sensation spreading between her thighs, the way she felt him harden against her.
She shifted, grinding her hips against him, trying to quell the overwhelming sensation building between them.
She felt his breath hitch at the motion as she moved her hand toward his, running it up her thigh. She let his fingers trail up to her knee before he pulled away.
“Are you sure? You’re already giving me too much,” he choked out
She nodded, not comprehending his words. Her brain only wanted one thing: him, his touch.
Every pump of her heart matching the one between her legs. She needed him, his hands, and when she felt it—warm pleasure spilled all over her as Draco moved his fingers into her soaked pussy.
“Fuck, Granger.”
“Draco,” she felt herself purr as he positioned himself for her.
“Say my name again,” he groaned back as he deliciously dipped his fingers into her, his signet ring dancing dangerously along her clit.
“Draco!” The voice wasn’t Hermione's; it was haughty and chilled, and Draco froze.
The connection shattered as he slowly pulled his hands from beneath her fabric, and Hermione felt her brain snap back to the reality of it all.
Draco had her pinned up against one of the bookshelves, his hands lost beneath her skirt, and his mouth had been all over hers.
Narcissa Malfoy was standing there like a fallen angel, white and ethereal, her beauty stark against her skin, directly at the entrance of the library, with a clear view of what the two of them had been doing.
Fuck.
How had she forgotten? Narcissa lived here; of course, she’d be around somewhere. Embarrassment and shame flooded Hermione’s cheeks and mind as Draco moved in front of her, shielding half her body to give her some decency.
She was so embarrassed she didn’t even register that she should be fearful. Narcissa Malfoy had just caught her son, the Malfoy Heir defiling a Muggle-born in their own home.
“Mother, what are you doing?” Draco said quickly, his tone stiff.
“I was going to ask you the same thing, dear,” she said so casually cold that Hermione blushed even harder.
“I got notification that our library Floo had been connected to one in Hogsmeade, and I heard from Topsy you were here… with company,” Narcissa added, looking around Draco, toward Hermione. “My apologies, Ms. Granger, for not welcoming you to our home earlier. It seems like Draco rather rudely neglected to tell me you were coming over,” she finished.
“I invited her to view the library,” Draco interjected.
“And has she had a chance?” Narcissa said back incuriously, and Hermione could have died on the spot.
It was the most humiliating moment of her life.
“Yes, thank you, Mrs. Malfoy. Draco has been kind enough to show me some very rare books. I'm grateful for the hospitality,” she said quickly, though she didn't even know why. It sounded dumb now that it was out.
“Yes, it does seem like my son is more than an adequate host,”
Shame flushed her cheeks again.
Holy fuck. Of course, this would happen the moment Hermione lost control.
“Mother,” Draco snapped, slightly more aggressively.
“I’m assuming you took precautionary measures before you invited Ms. Granger over?” Narcissa asked again, this time looking around at the bookcases. Hermione didn’t understand what she meant, but Draco clearly did and snapped.
“Obviously. Now, I think we will be headed back to the castle,”
“Is it not past curfew? You can’t be caught past curfew,” Narcissa said delicately, but Hermione clearly understood the intent.
Hermione hadn’t even thought of that, and panic began to set in. She took too long, she was being selfish, stayed too long, and was overstretching her welcome.
“We’ll be fine, Mother,” Draco responded.
“I’d very much prefer my son stay out of Azkaban. You will spend the night here. I’ll owl the Headmistress in the morning to inform her that you will be visiting home for the weekend, Ms. Granger as well.”
Oh no, Hermione couldn’t think straight.
She couldn’t leave the library. She couldn’t face the rest of this house; the memories were too much. She felt the anxiety surging, the panic coming back, the visions... until she felt his hand, warm in hers. Comforting.
“Granger isn’t staying here,” he said back darkly.
“We have a guest wing for a reason, Draco. Don’t be rude.”
Hermione knew what Draco was doing. He was saving her from having to walk into the rest of the Manor. He was trying to keep to his word, his word that she could come and go directly via Floo.
“You may have forgotten, Mother, but I haven’t. Last time, Granger was in this home, we didn’t allow her the option to leave at her own free will. This time, I will be giving her that,” Draco pushed back, and Hermione felt a surge of gratitude at the words. He was trying to protect her, trying to right even the smallest of wrongs.
Narcissa seemed to be taken aback at the mention of it, the mention of Hermione sprawled on the drawing-room floor.
She had put Draco in a precarious position for a second time. Granted, they could Apparate into the tunnel under Honeydukes and take that back into the castle, but then she’d need to convince Narcissa that she had a way into the school without getting her precious son caught.
Before her brain had time to catch up, she said it.
“It’s alright. Your mother is kind enough to allow me over for the evening, and I’ll take her up on the offer, as it is late,” she said, and Draco pivoted, his eyes shocked.
“Lovely, Draco, I’m sure you’ll be able to direct Ms. Granger to the guest wing, and that you’ll be the gentleman that I raised you to be in guiding her there for the night. I’ll see you both in the morning for breakfast,” Narcissa finished, leaving the room without another word, without listening to the protest that Draco no doubt wanted to make.
Draco spun towards her, his eyes panicking, she sensed he was searching her face for some type of emotion he could ease.
“You don’t have to stay. We can leave now. Just say the word,” he said, desperate, his voice laced with urgency.
“I’ll stay... but, can I stay with you?” she asked, and she watched his body contort, torn between the temptation of her request and the restraint he knew he should maintain.
She was his forbidden fruit, he was Adam. She wasn’t his to indulge in, not like this, yet the pull of desire was testing his willpower to its limits.
Chapter 24: Good Morning Ms.Granger
Notes:
TW - SMUT & R Rated Content
This whole chapter is deliciously smutty, if that's not for you - you may want to skip this one!
Chapter Text
He'd never been cock-blocked harder in his life, and by his own mother, no less. He honestly wasn't sure how he'd manage to meet her eyes again.
Had she seen where his hands were? The ring? His family fucking ring.
It was horrifying, and the look on Hermione's face left him utterly lost. He didn't know how to help diminish his own discomfort, let alone quell hers.
It was his damn fault; he knew kissing her there was risky, but fuck it all, when he heard her say his name, it hit a sweet spot in his mind that sent him reeling.
It was a bittersweet emotion, furious at his mother, yet strangely grateful for her overprotectiveness that somehow landed him in a situation where Hermione Granger was staying in his home... and she asked to stay in his room.
Fucking hell, he never thought she'd step foot into this place ever again, let alone his bedroom. Another fantasy he only let himself indulge in, never manifested.
He wondered what Theo and Blaise would say if they ever found out, but he didn't want to tell them. He wanted to keep their moment in the library to himself, forever being able to revisit it; selfishly.
He could have sworn this was all some sick dream that he'd wake up from and have it ripped away. There was no way that this was happening to him in this lifetime.
"Keep your fucking head" he continued to breathe to himself every time he felt his anticipation rise. The thought of her underneath him, pressing her body against the stacks, he couldn't let his mind go back there, he couldn't get too greedy.
Draco strategically led her up the staircase, taking the long way to his room to avoid the overbearing portraits of his ancestors. She followed delicately, each step hesitant, yet she kept her small hand firmly gripping his.
"Any time you want to leave, just tell me,” He would press every few steps, and she would just give him a small nod. Secretly wishing she wouldn't change her mind, every step she took forward intensified his dread of her leaving.
They arrived at two grandiose blackened double doors with serpent handles. He pushed them open, revealing his room invitingly arranged. He was surprised; Topsy must have been up here already. There was a roaring fire in his hearth, his two wingback chairs facing the fire, warmed. His bed was made perfectly, king-sized, and the lights in his en suite were on, with flickering candles on the wall sconces.
“I don’t have any little nighties, but I'll find something,” he joked, moving toward his closet.
“This is exactly what I expected,” she laughed, her laughter warming him slightly and easing his tension at her apprehension.
“What does that mean?”
“It’s very Draco Malfoy,” she smirked.
"Don't.. I have no faith in myself to hold any restraint, if you keep saying my name," he gulped, the intensity of his words charging the air.
“That was horrifyingly embarrassing,” she continued, reminding him of the position his mother had just caught them in.
He was three fingers deep inside her delicious fucking pussy, before he heard his mother's voice, shrill, cold, it was something that would forever haunt his dreams—knowing that his mother caught him in such a situation.
“I need to apologize for that. I didn’t expect her to be there,” he added.
“What did she mean, taking precautions?” she asked, and he dreaded that question, hoping she’d overlook it, but of course, that big brain of hers wouldn’t have.
"At one point, we had books that only Purebloods could touch. They'd violently curse any Muggle-born that held them, but I cleaned it all out months ago, so you don't need to worry," he explained quickly, feeling ashamed he even had to say it. He watched her expression closely, trying to decipher what it conveyed, and quickly sought to change the subject.
"Will this work?" he asked, pulling out a large T-shirt with the letter M on it. It was his older house team shirt from his fifth year, which would undoubtedly be more like a dress on her.
The idea briefly flickered through his mind to dig out some of those muggle lacey numbers he’d stashed from a conquest or two, but the very notion of another woman's garment touching her skin erupted a possessive flame within him.
No, if she was going to wear something like that, it would be something he bought for her himself.
"You love giving me things with your initials on them, don’t you?" she quipped and he couldn’t help but glance down at his signet ring. He hadn't even had the chance to explore its potential on her body, and he desperately wanted to.
“I wasn’t lying, my jersey did look better on you,” he said, moving closer to her until they were within arm's reach, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. He watched as her eyes traced down his chest, then toward his lips, before she broke away.
“Washroom?” she said quickly, clearing her throat, and taking the shirt out of his hand.
“Right there,” he pointed to the open door, and she moved quickly toward it, shutting it behind her.
Draco’s mind raced. All he could think about was the fact that there was a small door separating himself from her naked body, and he couldn’t help but feel the blood begin to pump into his cock.
Stop, fucking stop.
Draco took a deep breath. He knew he had to maintain control. He couldn't afford to push her away; he had to handle this delicately. Despite his overwhelming desire to have her in his bed, a longing that had burned him for months, he couldn't risk ruining it now that she was here. She needed to feel at ease with him, to trust him completely.
The door creaked open, and there she was, stunning as ever. She wore his black shirt, with an emerald M and a serpent coiled around it, her legs bare, her hair tumbling in wild waves over her shoulders. Their eyes locked - anticipation.
He cleared his throat, fighting to maintain composure. "I’ll take the chair, you’re welcome to the bed," he offered, stepping aside.
“Will you sit with me for a while?” Her ask sent a jolt through him.
Fucking hell. Every word she seemed to speak had a hold over him, and he would do anything to be close to her.
If she asked him to slit his wrists and bleed out of her, he was pretty damn sure he’d do it.
“Of course, did you want anything? I can call for Topsy.”
“No,” she said as she moved toward his bed, one leg crawling on top of it, the second following. He watched her slither deeper into the plush duvet, his heart beating increasingly unsteady as he observed her movements.
He moved closer, sliding himself beside her. He was uncomfortably aware that she was wrapped in his sheets, and he would do anything to run his hands up those thighs, to feel the wetness around him again. Would she still be that wet? Fuck, he hoped so.
“What was the memory that you said Pansy had of you in the Pensieve?”
It was another question he dreaded answering.
“Are you sure you want to hear this?” His voice cracked slightly, betraying his inner reluctance.
“There are very few things at this point that could make me change my mind about who you are” she assured him, her voice soothing.
“It was the fourth year, the Yule Ball, and I couldn’t take my eyes off you. I couldn’t fake it; you looked stunning, and it stirred all these thoughts—thoughts I hadn’t had before about… well, about a Muggle-born. I didn’t know how to handle it. Pansy called me out; we were together at the time, or sort of, and she was pissed. I didn’t know how to comprehend what I felt, so I just told her that I’d never look at her that way. I feel awful about treating her like that, but I wasn’t lying... I’ve never looked at someone the way I looked at you that night, the way I look at you now,” he confessed, his voice hoarse.
“And Ron… he saw?” she inquired.
Draco's stomach churned at the mention of Weasley's name. She was here, with him, so close to being his, yet the Weasel lingered in her thoughts.
“Apparently,” was all he could muster in response.
“His rage makes sense now,” she remarked.
“His rage always made sense, Granger... I want you and I would have told him,” Draco said cooly.
“I’m sorry for making you lie,” she replied, her cheeks flushing that rosy hue he adored.
“I get it. I might not have at the moment, but I do now,” he replied
He wasn’t lying. He remembered her happy place when she was Occluding. It was with the Weasleys. She was terrified of losing them, of losing the only family she had left.
“I’m also sorry for not realizing the time tonight. I shouldn’t have taken that long in the library.”
“Why do you do that? Always apologize for existing? For just being you?” he questioned.
“I didn’t think I did that, but maybe because I’ve never been able to just be Hermione Granger... before the war, it was mudblood, then after it’s Muggleborn, in front of my name in every article. I can’t escape it. I’ve tried desperately to fit into this world that has resisted me at every turn,” she confessed, her words heavy as she nestled herself into his pillows. He hoped the scent of lilacs would always linger on his mattress, yet he couldn't shake the shame. It had been him, his friends, and his family, who had refused her entry into this world, who had made her feel unworthy.
“Granger..”
“Don’t… I know what you’re going to say. You asked the question and I answered. I’m not looking for an apology.” she said, looking up at him with all the genuineness in the world.
“Looking over at you feels like a dream, seeing you here in my bed, in my clothes… this isn’t supposed to be my life... I shouldn’t get this...” he said in disbelief as he looked into her eyes.
She was so damn forgiving, and he struggled to comprehend it. She was too good for this world, too good for him, yet here she was, sharing herself with him.
He'd never take her for granted.
“This can’t be a dream or I’d be in that black nightie you like,” she laughed, her body inching closer to his with the subtle grace of a lioness preparing to strike.
This was his moment, and he knew it.
“Granger, keep sleeping in my bed and I’ll buy you every fucking nightie in every damn color,” Draco growled, seizing the back of her neck and crushing his lips onto hers. She responded eagerly, a hunger in her movements that matched his own.
Sweet caramel, he’d never tire of the taste of her.
“Draco..” she said it again, his name, and he couldn’t decide what was sweeter: the sound of his name or her lips.
His head was clouded; all he felt was the throbbing going directly to his cock.
She pulled away from him, her big brown eyes locking onto his, her teeth gently sinking into her bottom lip. Draco shifted his body, hovering slightly over hers, their proximity electrifying.
She reached down, her fingers delicately grasping the hem of the shirt, and she pulled it over her head, revealing the soft curves of her body.
His heart nearly jumped out of his fucking body as he took in the sight before him.
It felt surreal, almost as if his eyes were playing tricks on him. He wanted to pinch himself, but if this was a dream he didn’t want to wake yet. Hermione lay bathed in the warm glow of the firelight, completely naked.
Her body was olivey soft, her breasts rising and falling with her heavy breathing. Beautiful, supple breasts that would look fucking bewitching bouncing in front of him.
Her nipples were pink and perky, and they were just as he imagined them to be.
His eyes kept trailing down, to her pussy, and it had him speechless. The spot he wanted to know more intimately than any other. He felt his body react viscerally; he was so hard he could almost pass out, and her eyes never left his as he drank her in.
“Granger… you can’t take this back if you give this to me…… You’ll be mine; you know that?” he rasped; his voice thick.
Every cell in his body wanted her.
“I’m yours,”
His lips crashed back onto hers, and she had her hands running up his shirt, unbuttoning each one hungrily. Ripping at it, an animalistic side he had never seen before overtaking her control. She grabbed at his belt buckle, ripping it off, and he felt some relief from the ache in his groin.
An undeniable force led Draco’s hands down her neck toward her tits, soft and so fucking succulent. Their bodies were pressed together, and the warmth felt incredible, every inch feeding the monster that growled inside him.
Draco moved his hands lower, without breaking his lips from hers. Hermione let out a soft moan that he caught with his teeth, biting down on her lower lip and then sucking it lightly.
She was fucking insatiable.
He began to kiss down her body, his entire soul was set on fire, she was the best thing he had ever put his lips on.
Her body erupted in goosebumps, the ones he had only ever watched, never dreamed he’d be able to lick; his tongue trailed down her stomach, feeling her body contract under his touch. His hands massaged her breasts, flicking her nipples playfully as she squirmed beneath him.
He teasingly halted just before delving deeper, craving the permission he so desperately needed.
Looking up, the sight of her sprawled on his bed, her hair wild, her eyes swirling with pleasure. As he knelt over her, the image seared itself into his mind, destined to be a rune he worshipped.
He locked eyes with her and moved his hand toward her soaking fucking wet pussy that seemed to only throb for him, her arousal seemed to be spilling down her thighs, onto his sheets, he was tempted to never change them.
“Draco,” she let out a shuttered cry as he began to rub her clit.
Fucking Christ, she was going to be the death of him. His heart might just cease beating.
He couldn't believe it. It was too good to be true, too perfect, and he hadn't even scratched the surface of all he wanted to do with her.
His fingers worked their magic, he moved his signet ring toward the front of his index, pressing it into her, marking her as his own.
“This is mine,” he growled possessively as she twitched under his golden ring, her provocation driving him even wilder.
“It’s yours…,” she moaned, which drove him fucking insane.
Draco continued, her tits heaving as she struggled to keep her moans from escaping her throat.
Fuck it was hot, as his body pumped blood furiously into his shaft.
He dropped his head, cupped one of her breasts into his hands, and lightly began sucking on her nipples, they tasted like summer berries.
“I need to know how you actually sound when you cum… will you do that for me?” he breathed into her ear, and all she could do was nod, her eyes rolling into the back of her skull.
Draco dipped his head back into her thighs, kissing the throbbing wetness that was inside, she tasted like everything he needed as he sloppily licked her cunt, and her thighs pressed around him, and she thrust her hips toward him greedily.
“Draco… I’m going to cum for you,” she moaned, the sentence almost making him cum on the spot as he continued to pleasure her, his mouth eager to taste every single drop of her.
"Good girl," he found himself almost purring, encouraging her.
He had watched Granger for years; it wasn't hard to guess she might have a praise kink. She loved nothing more than the attention she got for doing something right.
He felt her body respond, her thighs trembling around his face as he held them steady, ensuring she felt every wave of him.
It took every ounce of his strength to pull his face away from her spasming core. His itch burned fiercely as he watched her surrender to the elation he was inflicting.
“I’m going to fuck you now,” he breathed heavily
“Please,” her plea ignited a primitive hunger within, that he struggled to contain.
He guided the tip of his cock to her entrance, knowing he was about to stretch her to her limits.
Slowly, he began to enter her, his movements deliberate and measured. He couldn’t help but look up when he heard her sharp intake of breath.
“Deep breaths, I know you can take me,” he growled, his control hanging by a thread as the sensation of her enveloping him nearly undid him.
She nodded in response, her eyes locked with his as she followed his instruction, taking a deep breath as he pushed himself deeper inside her.
“Fuck.. you’re so tight,” he gasped, his cock barely penetrating her.
“So big,” she murmured, her voice strained with pleasure as she took another deep breath.
“You’re doing so good... taking me so fucking well,” he reassured her, his hands tangled in her curls as he fought to maintain his own self.
He felt her entire body tense as he pushed himself deeper.
“Relax” he whispered and once she did, he was finally able to pull out slightly.
He could devour her completely, he never wanted to taste, or feel anything but her ever again. He didn’t care if she screamed his name out to the whole Manor.
She moved her hips to match his thrusts, and she was like a vice grip around his cock, soaking wet as he moved in and out.
He couldn’t control himself much longer; she was a goddess. A literal goddess who was allowing him, of all people, to have her.
She was his, he’d never be able to give up this feeling—the feeling of complete rapture.
Hermione’s’ tits were glistening from his silva, her sweat, and the candlelight hitting them—glowing and bouncing in front of his face, anytime he dipped his head down to capture her lip or a nipple.
Draco thrust deeper, burying himself entirely inside her, and she moaned desperately, louder than before.
“You….youu..” She was stumbling.
“Draco.. you feel so fucking good” she yelled loudly; her self-control completely lost. All he could do was grunt in response, every inch of himself focused on ensuring he could watch her cum again.
Hermione’s voice was ragged, and Draco couldn’t wait to watch her unravel, it was like staring directly into nirvana.
He pumped faster, moving his thumb back over her clit as he thrust rhythmically hitting her core, hitting the spot that he had aimed for, her entire body reacted, and her walls constricted around him.
The reaction set off a wild wanting, and he slammed into her harder.
“Fucking cum on my cock” Draco growled as Hermione whimpered, she melted into him like putty.
“Draco…oh… gods….” Hermione moaned loudly, as her entire body spasmed.
“Good girl, keep cumming for me” he rasped back, gripping her tightly.
Her eyes were rolled back into her head, and her pussy contorted around him, and she throbbed, her wetness spilling out over him.
The sight of it made him fall apart instantly, as he continued to stroke his life into her.
He couldn’t hold back any longer, his orgasm taking him into an out-of-body experience, it was so much pleasure it was almost numbing, like entering another dimension.
Coming back to himself, he felt his chest rising and falling heavily. He was still inside her, her eyes staring back up at him, her breathing matching his, a light sheen of sweat on her brow. He leaned down to kiss her, savoring the remnants of her orgasm.
“My god...”
“I’m flattered, but it's still just Draco,”
He eased out and off her, watching as her chest continued to rise and fall with the aftermath of their shared orgasms.
Her breath came back to her in staggered gasps, and he felt a wave of satisfaction wash over him. His own legs felt like jelly, weak from the intensity of his pleasure.
Gently, he pulled her shoulders closer to him, inviting her to rest against his chest.
She fell asleep in his arms, her body nestled against his. He vowed to never let her go, not after she had surrendered herself to him so fully.
He could have stayed in that moment forever, with her wrapped around him. She felt better than anything he had ever experienced, like his own personal bottle of Ogden’s’, stirring a thirst within him that could never be quenched, no matter how many times he drank from her.
Her naked body lay next to his, and he held her close, her hair tickling his neck, her soft breathing lulling him into a sense of peace. As he watched her eyelashes flicker in her slumber, he wondered what she was dreaming about, tempted to use Legilimency.
Draco was terrified to fall asleep, fearing that he would wake up alone and realize it had all been a vivid hallucination. But eventually, sleep overtook him.
He woke suddenly to a crack and felt Hermione startle beside him, hastily pulling the blankets to cover herself.
It wasn’t a dream; she was still here.
But bloody hell, he could strangle that elf right now though.
Rage was in his stare as he saw the bulging eyes peering over his bedside.
"Topsy, what is it?" he snapped, sharper than he meant to.
"Topsy is so sorry, sir, but Mrs. Malfoy has requested your presence," the little elf squeaked.
"Fucking hell, alright," he grumbled, instantly annoyed, and instantly aware that his mother knew Hermione hadn't made it to the guest wing.
"Draco, I'm sorry, I should have stayed in the guest wing last night" Hermione's voice was barely above a whisper.
"Don't, please, never ever be sorry for that... I'd take a thousand Crucios to keep you in this bed, to keep being able to do what I did to you last night," he said, a mixture of frustration and affection in his voice as he leaned down to kiss her lips reassuringly.
Caramel, still tasting of candied caramel. He could get used to that.
Draco quickly smoothed out his hair, and pulled up his trousers and a fresh button-up, preparing for whatever the hell his mother was about to say.
He ran through scenarios in his head, all of them somehow putting the blame back on her, though he knew how that would end.
He stepped into the abrasive morning light pouring through the large white windows of the dining room, his mother seated at the end of the long harvest table. Flower pots, fresh from the garden plastered the table, alongside small tiered stands that held pastries, and fine China was set out for three.
"Where's Ms. Granger?" she said quietly, pouring herself a cup of tea.
"Topsy said you wanted to speak with me," Draco replied annoyed.
"She must have missed getting Ms. Granger from the guest wing, where she clearly didn't stay. I'll get Topsy to bring her down for breakfast," Narcissa retorted coolly.
"Mother, what is this?" Draco felt his frustration mounting.
"You tell me, Draco. I'm not used to you bringing home your conquests. I was happier when you kept them to your London flat," she said, her words laced with disapproval.
"Don't talk about her like that. She's not a conquest," he snapped back defensively.
"I'm glad to hear it. Although last time I heard, you were only partners in that Unity Project the Ministry mandated. I read about it in the Prophet rather than hearing directly from you. I also read that Ms. Granger was dating that Weasley boy. So, you can only imagine my surprise to see my son pressing his so-called project partner up against a bookcase in a seemingly precarious position in our family home," Narcissa paused, allowing the weight of her words to settle. Draco opened his mouth to retort, but she continued before he could.
"After which, you continued to disobey me by not directing her to the guest wing," Narcissa quipped back.
"Mother," he began, but Narcissa cut him off sharply.
"No, Draco," she snapped. "I will not have any more negative press about this family, especially about you. Whatever this is with her, you better be sure you know what you are doing..." she cautioned, her tone stern.
Draco could hear a small shuffling of feet coming down the hallway, accompanied by the squeaking voice of Topsy. Moments later, Hermione timidly entered the dining room, wearing the same clothes as yesterday, a small awkward grin on her face.
"Good morning, Ms. Granger. I do hope you had a well-rested evening. Please come join us for breakfast, after which you and my son can head back to Hogwarts," Narcissa's demeanor had instantly changed, adopting the role of the ever-thoughtful hostess. Draco felt his jaw twitch in irritation.
“This all looks lovely, thank you and yes, I slept well," Hermione replied, her cheeks flushing slightly.
"I have no doubt you did," Narcissa shot another look over to Draco, who grimaced internally.
Bloody hell, of course, he wouldn't have been allowed to enjoy last night without a test of his patience and that's exactly what this was.
Chapter 25: Me & The Devil
Chapter Text
The roaring sunlight hit his face like a fiery blast, causing his eyes to burn and his head to throb as he opened them.
Slowly, the events of the previous night flooded back to him—the scent of fig, amber, and cherries, the lingering memory of Pansy’s body under his. He turned over quickly in his bed, the sheets still a tangled mess, his room in disarray. But she was gone.
He woke up alone, the only evidence that she had been there was the empty glasses by his chaise. A sense of emptiness settled over him as he realized she had left without a word. Glancing at his clock, he saw that it was nearing 10:00 AM; he had slept in longer than he wanted.
Why didn't she let him know she was leaving? Did she regret what happened last night?
Fuck, what if she regretted it? He didn't regret it, not in the slightest.
Though he wasn't sure how he felt about it yet, he knew it wasn't regret. There was something there, something he couldn't quite define.
He pushed himself out of bed, the weight of his hangover pressing down on him. Looking around his disastrous room, he knew he should tidy up. And he did. Despite the pain in his head, he began to straighten out the mess, starting with his closet. Clothes were tossed into the bin to be washed, and with a few Scourgify spells, dust was banished, surfaces were tidied, and his room looked cleaner than it had all year.
Throwing on some clothes, he couldn't shake the apprehension biting at him about what he was going to say when he saw her.
But first, he needed food. He was starving, having missed breakfast, but lunch would be served soon. Heading out of his room, he made his way to the Great Hall, hoping the distraction of crisps and a ham and cheese sandwich would settle his nerves.
"Long night?" Harry asked quickly as Ron took a seat opposite him at the Gryffindor bench.
"What do you mean by that?" Ron shot back, panic seeping into him. Did Harry know something?
"You look tired, is all. What did you get up to after I left?" Harry asked again, curiosity in his voice.
"Nothing just walked back up to the castle," Ron said quickly, dismissing any further questions.
"I know this is an odd question to ask you with the circumstances, but have you seen Hermione?"
"Hermione? No, why?" Ron replied quickly, his head swiveling around to the Slytherin table, where Theo, Blaise, and Greengrass sat, with Malfoy and Parkinson conspicuously absent.
"Just wondering, I haven't seen her since yesterday afternoon, and I knocked on her door this morning, but I didn't get an answer," Harry explained.
"Have you checked the library?" Ron scoffed
"Actually, I did, and she wasn't in there," Harry added, taking a sip of pumpkin juice.
"Did you check Malfoy's room?" Ron shot back with venom, even though he wasn't sure why he even said it.
Harry just let out a long sigh. "Never mind, I'm sure she'll turn up," he finished quickly.
Ron's eyes darted back over to the Slytherin table.
Where was Parkinson? Should he go find her? Try to talk to her. Figure out what the hell happened last night.
Harry left quickly after stating he needed to finish his paper for Potions, Ron waved him off slightly preoccupied. His mind kept flashing back to last night; Pansy’s touch, her lips, her body...
Fuck, he needed to go find her.
Pushing out of his seat, Ron made his way toward the table he despised. The smugness of the green-clad students rubbed him the wrong way.
"Alright?" he asked Zabini and Nott quickly, their shocked faces turning to look at him.
"Great, Weasley. How may we help you?" Theo smirked, his expression suggesting he knew some intimate detail he wasn’t sharing with anyone else.
"Either of you see Parkinson this morning?" Ron asked quickly, trying to keep his voice casual.
"Last time I saw Pans, she was with you... You haven’t misplaced her, have you?" Theo shot back.
"So you don’t know where she is then?" Ron snapped, his patience wearing thin.
"Unfortunately, no," Theo finished, and Zabini looked up at him oddly, his expression unreadable.
"Very helpful," Ron said with an eye roll and began to walk away.
"Always a pleasure, Weasley," he heard Theo call after him, but Ron just ignored it.
He decided to try her room first, moving quickly back toward the Common Room. His head turned every time he saw an emerald green robe or a girl with dark hair walk by.
A large knot formed in his stomach as he approached her door. His palms felt kind of sweaty, and he wasn't sure why. What was wrong with him? He knocked, but there was only silence.
He knocked again, still met with silence.
Nothing.
Fucking hell, where was she?
The library seemed like the next logical place to look, so he made his way there, walking quickly down the corridors. He desperately hoped nobody would ask him what he was doing, because he wasn't even sure himself.
He walked to the fifth floor, it felt aimless, and he could feel himself slowly going mad.
What the fuck was he doing? Why did he need to talk to her so desperately? Then the events of the night replayed in his mind, and it did feel that desperate.
He rounded a corner, and he saw her. She was walking toward the statue of Boris the Bewildered, a small tote in her arms.
"Parkinson!" he shouted instantly, causing her to swing her head in shock. He saw her face flush and her eyes squint slightly like she had been caught.
"What do you want, Weasley?" she said back in her usual haughty tone.
"I wanted to talk to you... about last night, you know, we had se—" he began, but she cut him off quickly, pressing her fingers to his lips.
"Are you mad? These portraits will spread that information all over the school," she whispered.
“Why did you leave?” he pressed again.
“I’m not really a spend-the-night kind of girl,” she whispered back quickly.
“What does that even mean?”
“Have you ever just hooked up with someone?” she looked at him strangely.
“Before last night? Not really. Lavender and Hermione were both my girlfriends,”
“Bloody hell, well most of the time the hook-up doesn’t spend the night,” she explained.
“So you don’t regret it,” he said, seeking reassurance.
“Is this what this is about? Stalking me in the hallways? No, Weasley, I don’t regret it. Do you?” she shot back.
“Not at all. I was scared you did. The way you vanished. What are you doing anyway?” he said curiously, peering into her tote bag filled with toiletries.
“Taking a bath. The prefects' bath is usually not occupied this time of day,” she replied, folding her arms.
“You’re no longer a prefect, though,” he pointed out.
“Yes, astute observation, but I love that bath, and MacMillan is the easiest sucker in this place to get information out of,” she rolled her eyes.
“Well…can I join then?” he blurted out, the words slipping out before he could stop them.
It was the smell of her, intoxicating, the snobby little way her nose wrinkled, those lips...
“What?” she whispered, clearly taken aback.
“If you don’t regret it, and I don’t regret it, then why not do it again?” he whispered leaning closer to her ear.
She looked back at him, her mouth opening then closing, her mind clearly considering his proposition.
“Okay... but this is casual... no strings,” she quipped.
Ron put his hands up in defense. “No strings.”
She moved toward the prefects' bath, tapping her wand onto the brick.
“Squeaky clean,” she murmured, and the door swung open.
"Squeaky clean?" Ron questioned.
"I didn’t come up with it," she fired back as he followed behind her, scanning both hallways for any unsuspecting eyes.
Pansy moved to hang up her robes. Turning her focus to the grand pool-like tub, she pointed her wand toward one of the gold faucets. Lavender and eucalyptus-scented bubbles cascaded into the tub, accompanied by the sound of scalding hot water.
She turned to look at him, and within an instant, her lips were on his. His hands found the back of her head, gripping her hair into his fingers as they kissed like ravenous animals, barely coming up for air as they shredded off each other's clothes and moved toward the filling basin.
All Ron could think about was her, having her in that water, seeing the bubbles bursting on her skin.
With a resounding clack, like the moving of bricks, and in a heartbeat, the door unlatched, the whispered password escaping from unrecognizable voices behind them.
"Fuck... Weasley in there!" Pansy broke away, pointing Ron toward one of the floor-to-ceiling stalls. He panicked and ran toward it, Pansy following and throwing their clothes after them.
She moved to latch the door shut as the footsteps grew closer to the bathroom where they were now hiding inside an adjacent change stall.
Fuck, had they not locked the door? He should have put wards up.
"Did you not lock that door?" he whispered, their bodies pressed close together in the stall, their skin touching.
Ron was in his boxers, and Pansy was completely naked.
"I thought you did!" she shot back in a whisper.
He just shook his head as he heard a giggle, a sound he thought he recognized, but then he heard another deeper voice he didn’t place. Pansy's eyes widened.
"It looks like we may not be the only ones with this idea," she whispered, and suddenly his ears were hit with a soft buzzing. He could only hear Pansy's voice, not the water, not the other voices.
"Someone cast a Muffliato. Can you see who it is?" he whispered into her ear.
He felt her turn, the worst part was that he was still rock fucking hard since she was completely naked and pressed up against him in this tight space. He knew she could feel it.
Pansy began to peer through the very small crack in the stall wall, and then she turned back, her face as if she had seen a ghost, but she didn’t say anything.
"Who is it?" he pushed.
"I can’t see anyone," she said, not meeting his eyes.
"Then why is your face like that?" he argued.
"I was nervous they saw me,"
"Did they?!" he asked, panic rising in his body again.
She just shook her head in a quick nod.
"What do we do?" he asked quickly.
"Wait... I guess?" she grimaced.
Ron’s head fell back in disbelief. How the bloody hell was he in this situation? When he looked back down, he saw Pansy’s big eyes looking back at him, a devilish glint in them, a smirk on her lips.
“What?” he huffed, his breath catching in his throat.
“We could still pass the time,” she said quietly, pressing her body up against his, bringing one hand to his cheek.
He took a large gulp as her hand went down toward his cock, she slowly began to rub the fabric over his pulsing shaft, reaching her soft hand into his boxers and gripping him firmly.
“Fucking hell...” he breathed as she continued to stroke, her lips falling all over his chest as they stood there.
The terror of being caught mixed with the glorious sensation of her lips and hands swirling into a cocktail of erotic pleasure he didn’t know could exist.
Pansy Parkinson was the devil, and he was willing to burn in the fiery depths of her seductive hell.
It was late on Sunday afternoon, and Ginny found it strange that she hadn’t seen her brother, Harry, or Hermione.
She couldn’t complain though, she had spent the afternoon in the prefect’s bath with Blaise - a sinful soak she had always wanted to take.
At first, it struck her as odd that the tub was already full when they arrived, but she was too caught up in the sight of Blaise—shirtless and rock-hard—to really give a damn.
He had her in every imaginable position, their bodies intertwining as if weightless. For nearly 45 minutes, they lost themselves in each other, their soaked bodies melding together in the tub's warm water. But as the realization of time shot back into her mind, Ginny rushed him out.
It was nearly 3:00 PM when most students would be returning to their Common Rooms, and she could only imagine what it would look like—the two of them sneaking out, hair wet, cheeks glowing with post-orgasmic bliss.
The evenings were getting darker earlier as they only had one week left of classes before the holiday break. Ginny hated admitting this to herself, but she wasn’t sure how she would go three weeks without Blaise.
She felt silly, like a love-sick puppy. It wasn’t love—maybe a lust-sick puppy? But that wasn’t right either. He was her dirtiest secret, one she always loved keeping close, a moment of relief in the chaos of her world.
With him, she felt like herself—the Ginny Weasley she couldn’t be in front of her family. She’d have to put that façade back on for three weeks with no release.
But as evening approached Ginny needed to find Hermione. It was too strange that she hadn’t seen her friend yet. Last she knew, Hermione was going to Malfoy Manor, but she hadn’t been at breakfast or lunch. If she didn’t show up at dinner, something was definitely wrong, and Ginny knew the first person to turn to for answers - Malfoy.
Ginny walked to the Great Hall, students running toward the aromatic smells wafting from the doorway.
She rounded the corner, she didn’t see Harry or Ron, but she saw Hermione, her hair wild as ever, sitting quietly between Neville and Dean. Ginny rushed over.
“Where have you been?” she urged, throwing herself down beside Neville.
“I’ve been away most of the morning, and afternoon...” Hermione replied, blushing and avoiding eye contact.
“She fucking did it!” Ginny thought to herself. She knew that look—she had given Hermione the same look when she told her about shagging Blaise.
“Where exactly have you been?” Ginny pushed.
“Gin... not here,” Hermione said dangerously through gritted teeth, and Ginny’s head swung around toward the Slytherin table. Malfoy sat there, smiling and laughing at something Theo was saying. He was in a good mood, understandably so if Ginny was right.
Blaise caught her eye and shot her a cheeky wink, to which she responded with an eye roll.
“After dinner, your room?” Ginny said quickly to her friend as she smiled and greeted Neville and Dean, who both looked at them suspiciously.
Ginny felt herself eating faster, she was reminding herself of Ron, but she was desperate to know what had happened, until an owl appeared flying in overhead carrying a box, landing directly in front of Hermione. It was odd; most of the time, post-owls only came in the mornings.
“What’s that?” Ginny asked as she watched Hermione grab at the small note and opened it. Hermione pushed it close to her chest and turned scarlet.
“What is that?” Ginny demanded, trying to grab at the letter when another three owls came flying into the Great Hall, all dropping equally sized boxes in front of Hermione—one after the other until she had almost eleven boxes towering on her plate.
It caused quite a stir; many students were looking over, whispering, and giving them strange glances.
Except for Draco, who sat back, a smirk on his face, staring directly at Hermione. Ginny knew.
“Are those from Malfoy?” she pushed.
“Gin, help me get these out of here,” Hermione was still scarlet as she tried to carry six boxes under her arms, sending Ginny into a frenzy.
She grabbed the remaining five, and Hermione practically sprinted from the hall, Ginny scrambling- grabbing at the boxes in her hand trying to follow as all the eyes were on them.
Ginny moved quickly, her head spinning as she looked back toward where Malfoy, Blaise, and Theo were sitting; Malfoy looked so delighted with himself. Ginny rounded the corner and came to an immediate halt as she watched, it was all she could do, she didn’t react fast enough.
Hermione slammed directly into Ron and Harry as they were moving into the Great Hall for dinner. The boxes in Hermione's hands went flying in the air and came crashing to the ground.
“Bloody hell, ‘Mione,” Ron roared as the cardboard and gift wrap came tumbling down around him.
Hermione looked horrified as silky, lacy nighties spilled out, all in an array of different colors—forest green, blood red, cupcake pink, cream white, bronze gold, ocean blue, navy blue. Hermione was on her hands and knees to push them all back into their boxes and Ginny moved swiftly to help.
“What the fuck?” Ron spat; his assumption clear.
“What is this?” Harry continued, Hermione’s face still scarlet.
Harry bent down to try to help but awkwardly stopped as his hand met Ginny’s while they tried to pick up the same nightwear.
“We’re having a pajama party... all us girls. Hermione was nice enough to order these for everyone,” Ginny lied, and quickly.
She was pretty damn sure this was the first time Hermione and Ron had spoken since the break-up, and he didn’t need to know the truth right now.
“A pajama party?” Ron questioned suspiciously, while Harry eyed them both, disbelief on his face.
“A few seventh and eighth-year girls... to celebrate the end of term next week,” Ginny pushed again, stuffing what remained of the slips into one bag.
“Weird... girls are weird,” Ron concluded.
“How are you, Ronald? Harry?” Hermione gulped out gingerly.
“I’m fine. You?” Ron said coolly, averting his eyes.
“Great. Hermione, I was looking for you today. Where were you?” Harry asked.
“Library,”
“Strange, I looked in the library and you weren’t there,” Harry replied.
“Maybe we missed each other? You both going to dinner?” Hermione asked again, clutching the parchment and the boxes close to her chest.
“Yeah,” was all Ron said.
What an ass, Ginny thought. She couldn’t say it, it was still her brother after all, and she had just lied to him.
“Enjoy. We really should get these sorted and back to the girls, ‘Mione?” Ginny said, reaching to grab her friend’s arm to lead her away.
“Harry, we’ll chat later then?” Hermione said quickly, noticing Ron still standing there looking sour at the entire situation.
Fuck, did Ginny need to plan a damn pajama party now? What kind of excuse was that?
“You’re going to tell me everything...” Ginny whispered as they began up the stairs, and Hermione just nodded.
It took forever to finally reach Hermione’s room, the two of them rushing up staircases and corridors as students looked at them oddly clutching their disheveled packages. As soon as they climbed those spiral steps and slammed the door, Ginny felt her entire body spin on her heels.
“What happened? Why do you have all these slips? Did Malfoy send you these? Did you two shag? Where have you been?” Ginny's questions were rapid-fire
“Okay, one question at a time, Gin!” Hermione said, releasing her arms and everything fell to the floor.
“I will tell you one thing... I’m going to murder Draco Malfoy for this,” she said, with two of the silk slips clenched in her fists.
“So he did send you those!” Ginny roared, and Hermione stuck out the parchment that had arrived with the first box and read furiously.
“Apparently there are only eleven colors, don’t forget the conditions. - DM”
“Holy fucking shit... you shagged him!” Ginny couldn’t help but almost scream it.
“Gin…” Hermione said, biting down on her bottom lip, looking uncomfortable.
“You did! Spill now!” Ginny pushed.
“Alright... alright," Hermione said, her hands up in defense.
"He brought me to the library, and I was looking around, and it got late. Past curfew late. He asked if I could forgive him for the fight with Ron, and of course I could. I didn't have a leg to stand on. It was devastating having literally no willpower to keep a grudge. Then, next thing you know, I lost my head in the moment, and I'm up against the bookshelf, and his lips are on mine, and Narcissa caught us..." Hermione took a long pause, her face grimacing at the thought.
“What?! What did she do?! She caught you kissing, right?” Ginny asked.
“His hands… may have been in other places,” Hermione admitted sheepishly.
Ginny's mouth hung open, wordless. In no world would she ever have imagined Narcissa Malfoy catching Draco’s hands up a Muggle-born's skirt. The thought made her burst out laughing.
“It’s not funny!” Hermione urged.
“Oh, it so is!” Ginny continued.
“Well, she was upset we were out past curfew and made Draco spend the night, and insisted I stay too... in the guest wing,” Hermione continued.
“I’m assuming from this letter, and those boxes, you did not stay in the guest wing,” Ginny asked, watching as Hermione shook her head.
“And?!”
"And something inside me just let loose. I couldn't control it. It was as if I had no control over myself anymore. I was in his bed... beside him. It was overwhelmingly intimate, and his smell... it was intoxicating, Gin. I know this may be awkward to hear, but it was the best sex I've ever had. I know I don't have tons of experience, but it's what I've always assumed sex would be like—the kind you see in those Muggle films," Hermione confessed earnestly.
Ginny cut her off quickly. "Porn?"
"No, not porn... romantic-esque, passionate, spin your head around twice kind of feeling," Hermione gushed.
"Yeah, that's what Zabini and I do, and that’s porn," Ginny guffawed internally at the thought of Hermione trying to keep her delicacy.
Hermione continued to recount the rest of her night and morning, Ginny couldn’t help but laugh at the uncomfortable breakfast Hermione had to sit through with Narcissa and Draco. She chuckled at the numerous apologies Draco had made on behalf of his mother on their way back to the castle today.
Hermione was positively glowing, and Ginny had never seen her this happy before. It tugged a little at her heart, though. She had secretly harbored hopes of Hermione becoming her sister-in-law, but she’d never admit that now. Still, she was thrilled that Hermione was exploring who she was.
Ginny didn’t know what the end of this year was going to bring for them all, especially with the Unity Project still having three more Hunts, that is if they all made it to the final one.
Their next tasks were in January, and she couldn’t help but laugh at the fact that it seemed to be actually working, albeit maybe not in the way the Ministry had intended. She was sure nowhere in the pitch to McGonagall did Shacklebolt mention inter-house shagging.
“Are you two going to, like, start dating or something?” Ginny asked tentatively.
“We haven’t talked about it. I’m not sure I’m ready yet for everyone to know about this. Did you see the look on Ron’s face today? He still won’t talk to me. If he finds out about Draco…” Hermione trailed off.
Ginny didn’t know what to say. She wasn’t completely sure her brother would back down on his promise to rid Hermione from his life if she started dating Malfoy. But Hermione didn’t need to know that now.
“He’s an ass. He was drinking with Parkinson, Nott, and Harry last night as I left the Three Broomsticks… yet he holds a grudge against Malfoy?” Ginny understood, yet in her books, Parkinson was just as bad.
“Draco’s different in Ron’s eyes,” Hermione said dully.
“Oh, he’s Draco now?” Ginny swooned sarcastically.
“Stop! It still doesn’t mean he can keep doing all this,” Hermione said, looking down at the floor.
“Which one are you going to wear tonight?” Ginny asked, trying to lighten the mood.
“None. I’m so behind on these papers; I need to focus,” Hermione replied, gesturing toward the piles of books on her desk, parchment scattered.
“I’m going to tell Zabini I want some of these… but probably something a bit naughtier though,” Ginny said, holding up the fabric of one of the blue slips, curiously.
“Just make sure he doesn’t deliver them to the Great Hall,” Hermione huffed.
Chapter 26: Shagging Gryffindors
Chapter Text
"Blaise Zabini!" Pansy thundered into Draco's room, interrupting their game of Exploding Snap. The three of them had been sitting there since dinner, and Draco felt on top of the world, better than he had in years, perhaps since his fifth or fourth year. Unstoppable.
The memory of last night in his bedroom replayed in his mind, and Hermione's expression as all the packages fell onto her table. It was a subtle way to let everyone know she was his, a reminder, perhaps.
He was certain she would give him a slight scolding, but he welcomed it, especially if it meant she wanted to inflict some light punishment.
He had kept his lips shut to Nott and Zabini; they had begged to know what happened yesterday, and he was pretty sure they both knew, but the confirmation from his mouth they wouldn’t get it.
Draco savored having this secret to himself, having her to himself.
"What?" Blaise said rather unfazed, though the look in Pansy's eyes was one Draco had seen far too often, and even in the depths of his Death Eater hell, Pansy Parkinson in a full rage terrified him more than most of Voldemort’s followers.
"You're fucking Ginny Weasley?!" she yelled, her eyes wild, and all three of them turned to look at her in an instant, stunned.
How had she found out? Draco watched as Zabini's face twitched, trying not to give anything away. He was putting up a good front, but his eyes betrayed him.
"What are you talking about, Parkinson?" Blaise retorted quickly.
"Don't try to lie to me, I saw you! Today, in the prefect's bath!" she said rapidly.
Blaise was caught off guard, and Theo and Draco exchanged uneasy glances.
"What do you mean you saw me?" Blaise said, his voice edged with tension.
"I was in there!" she enunciated each word.
"You were in there?! What the hell do you mean you were in there?!" Blaise spat back.
"I was going to take a bath; I had the pool filled then you two burst in, snogging and giggling. I ran and hid in one of the change stalls!" she roared.
"You hid?! Fucking hell, how long were you there?!" Zabini's face turned ghostly pale.
"Forty-five minutes!" she yelled back, and Theo burst into laughter.
"Why did you hide? If you knew it was Zabini?" Draco asked, puzzled.
It wasn't like Pansy Parkinson to hide. The Pansy he knew would have burst out, maybe threatened Zabini a little, then moved on her way.
"I didn't know at first it was him... I thought I was getting caught using the prefects’ bath when I’m not a prefect!" she said quickly, her eyes darting around the room, suspiciously.
"Yeah, but once you realized it was Blaise, why didn't you come out?" Draco pressed again, sensing there was something Pansy wasn't saying.
"I was completely naked!" she shot back.
"And since when have you cared about that? Always an exhibitionist, Parkinson," Theo winked.
"Please... I'm not walking out stark naked."
"If you stayed and watched, you should have just joined," Zabini winked back at her.
"You're disgusting! And you two!” she said pointing at Draco and Theo. “You clearly knew" she roared.
"We watch for obvious signs, it's not our fault we're better at observing than you," Theo grinned.
"Parkinson, I'm going to ask you as a dear friend... please don't repeat this to anyone... Ginevra likes to keep me her little secret," Zabini said, sincerity edging into his tone.
"Of course, I'm not going to tell anyone, but a little heads up would have been nice. You three treat me like I have the mouth of Greengrass!" Pansy rolled her eyes and threw herself into the chair.
"Nope... I'm not buying it. Who were you hiding with?" Draco snapped.
Pansy wasn't telling the entire truth. She would have walked out stark naked just to bust him; she had a beautiful body, and she knew that. She wouldn't have cared who had seen it.
Plus, all three of them had already seen her naked at some point, maybe Draco more intimately than Blaise and Theo, but skinny-dipping in Estate Pools and too much champagne on a summer day would do that to a friend group.
"Don't be ridiculous, Malfoy," she rolled her eyes, though again she wasn't looking at him.
"You’re a shit liar, Parkinson," Draco pushed.
"Draco's right..." Theo sat up.
"Why are you interrogating me? Why is nobody more appalled that Blaise is with the Weaslette!"
"Because we've known for months... he's had a crush on her for what... like three years? The biggest shock was how he convinced her to do it in the first place. I still wouldn't take Imperio’d off the table," Theo joked.
"Watch it, Nott," Zabini spat back.
"Pans... just tell us. Is it Corner? We wouldn't judge if it was... MacMillan maybe?" Theo poked, watching her squirm uncomfortably as Draco observed her closely.
"No! If you three don't stop, I'll leave," Pansy threatened.
"No!" All three shouted at once, their curiosity getting the best of them.
"Parkinson, come to think of it the Weasel was looking for you earlier," Theo said with a sly grin.
"Was he?" Parkinson replied, seemingly unfazed, or at least trying to act that way. Draco couldn't quite tell.
"He was. Like a lost puppy…...what happened after we left last night?" Theo continued, earning a sharp look from Draco.
“After we left last night?” Draco asked confused.
"Well, after you two ditched, Parkinson and I sat with Potter and Weasley. I walked back up to the castle with Potter and left two partners to bask in their accomplishments... or did you accomplish something else..." Theo poked, and Draco noticed Parkinson's subtle reactions: a grimace, a blush, and a hardening of her eyes. She was good at masking feelings, but Draco knew her tells.
"Don't be foul!" Pansy interjected.
"Parkinson... did you…. shag Weasley?" Draco's tone was dangerous.
"No!" she shot back.
"You did!" Theo jumped up.
"Pansy, tell me the truth, did he see us today?! Gin and I?" Zabini's panic was evident at the mention that her secret shag could have been his secret shags brother.
"Of course he didn't, you damn idiot! I distracted him!" Pansy shot back, then immediately threw her hands over her mouth in horror.
"Oh, my fuck... she admitted it! She admitted it!" Theo was practically jumping with excitement, while Draco was absolutely floored.
"You have to be fucking joking?" Draco asked, incredulous.
It was a strange sensation that gripped him, a mix of triumph and disgust. Triumph because he now had something over Ron Weasley, something he could use to show Hermione what a shit person Weasley was, acting so self-righteous all this time and making Hermione feel ashamed for her feelings, yet he had jumped between Parkinson's legs days after the breakup?
Granted, Hermione had just given Draco just that in his own bed, but he wouldn't fault her for that.
But Weasley... he could use this to shatter any hope of Granger running back to him. Yet Pansy was his friend, one of his best friends, and he really didn't want to do that to her. He was torn between the Malfoy who would use that information without a second thought, regardless of the consequences, and the Draco who didn't want to rely on Weasley's mistakes to ensure that Hermione would stay with him.
"It was the fire whiskey, and he's like this muscular, arrogant, ginger bull, and I don't know what came over me..." Pansy said quickly.
"Apparently, he did," Theo grimaced.
"And he was in there with you today?!" Zabini said still shocked,
"Yes... but don't worry, he didn't see anything... I had to jerk him off to keep him from asking too many questions," Pansy said casually.
"I think I'm going to vomit," Draco muttered.
"You! Especially you! Can't breathe a word of this," Pansy said fiercely to all three of them but gave Draco most of her stare.
"Wait... so you were jerking off the Weasel while Blaise had his sister contorted in every position just feet away? That's messed up, even for me," Theo remarked.
"What would you have had me do?" Pansy retorted.
"Anything else! You could have shagged anyone else, but Weasley? Really?" Draco couldn't believe it.
What kind of messed-up magic did he have over these girls? He would never understand that appeal.
"Oh, so he could see Blaise and his sister splashing around in the tub? They would have had a bloody battle right then and there, like the time you got all those scars on your chest from Potter!" Pansy added.
"I agree with Parkinson, she did the right thing!" Zabini said quickly in her defense.
"So I'm the only one not shagging a Gryffindor?" Theo said a little sulky.
"What do you mean? Draco isn't..” she paused. “Bloody hell... you got Granger in bed finally, didn't you?" Pansy screamed, and Draco could have killed Theo right on the spot. He shot him a look that could have Crucio'd him.
"Well, he hasn't actually confirmed it, but he's in way too good of a mood not to have," Theo continued.
"For fuck sake, Theo, stop," Draco warned.
"You did! Oh, this is all too messed up!" Pansy roared.
"Alright! We make an Unbreakable Vow... right now, this conversation doesn't leave this room," Zabini suggested.
"I'm not making an Unbreakable Vow, you idiot," Draco pushed back.
"We'll just agree. We do not share this information with anyone else. Draco... Weasley and Granger can't know about this," Pansy said dangerously, and Draco just nodded.
Another lie or secret, he guessed. It wasn't actually a lie. It was just something he was keeping from her. Damn, he hated that.
"Obviously... I don't even want to know about you and Weasley," Draco replied with disdain.
"You were the one pushing for answers," Pansy retorted, annoyed.
"I regret that now..." Draco said in a huff, a disgusted look on his face.
"Zabini... you can't say anything to the Weaslette," Pansy warned.
"As if she doesn't already know about Granger and Malfoy. I saw the way she ran behind Granger after dinner tonight," Zabini replied.
"Let me get this straight: you three all know about each other, and Granger knows about Zabini and Ginny, and Ginny knows about Granger and Malfoy, but neither of them knows about Pansy and Weasley, except for us in this room, and Potter knows none of it?" Theo summarized quickly.
"Why do we keep saying Malfoy and Granger? I haven't confirmed anything," Draco fired back directly.
"Yeah, but we know. You're so obviously in a better mood today than you have been all week, actually in a better mood than you have been in years..." Zabini scoffed.
"Maybe I had a good night's sleep," he shot back.
"I'm sure you had just as good of a sleep as I did," Pansy rolled her eyes.
"I'm going to gag if you ever reference sleeping with the Weasel again. Please, I don't want to ever know any details," Draco retorted.
"How many freckles does he have down there?" Theo shot.
"Nope, absolutely not. If we start doing that, everyone leaves," Draco shouted.
"I feel bad for Potter, just wandering around the castle clueless," Zabini joked.
"I don't. It's probably the first time he's been allowed to wander clueless in his life," Theo replied quickly.
"I really wish I had better friends," Draco sighed.
"We're the best you're going to get," Theo smiled, propping his feet back up on the stool.
Fuck, Draco felt like he was in a headspin. It was one thing to keep him and Hermione private; it was another thing to keep Ron and Pansy quiet to Hermione.
A part of him desperately wanted to tell her. Would she care? Would she be jealous?
All these thoughts swirled in his head. He knew he couldn't. Maybe this Pansy and Ron thing would blow over, and it would be just a casual rebound hook-up.
Would she be mad at him if she found out he knew and didn't say anything?
Well, it wasn't his place to say anything. It was her ex-boyfriend, nothing to him.
Right? Fuck.
"Pans... you've really put me in a fucked position here," he said, the weight of the situation settling in.
"No, I haven't. You don't need to say anything to Granger. Frankly, it's none of her business anymore. They broke up, just as it's none of Ron's business whatever you two are doing," Pansy said quickly.
Fuck.
She was right.
Hermione woke up to find the hallways assaulting her eyes, winter's icy breath sweeping through the castle, bringing with it howling gales that echoed from the mountains.
Professor McGonagall had transformed the Great Hall into a haven of festive enchantment on Monday morning leading up to Christmas break.
The hall was filled with an overwhelming number of trees, twinkling lights, floating candles, and mistletoe in every nook and cranny. The halls played sweet melodies of holiday music that floated through the corridors, and the younger students seemed to love it.
Hermione couldn't help but think it was the most beautiful Hogwarts had ever looked at Christmastime. McGonagall understood that this Christmas would be marked by the absence of many loved ones for the first time, and an even more somber reality for those who had no home to return to.
For Hermione, it was the second year she would be spending without her parents, and the ache in her heart persisted regardless of time.
It was better than facing the fangs of a giant snake, as she and Harry could both agree on.
She had stayed up too late finishing a few Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts papers, but her mind kept drifting back to Draco Malfoy's bed—the way he felt, the way his body moved, his lips... She shook her head, trying to shake those thoughts away.
"Good girl..." His words sent a shiver through her, remembering his praise, his commands, and how she had obediently followed them.
Who was she when she was with him? She was an electrical current, and he was her voltage. A catalyst that brought her to life, igniting her inner fire and illuminating the darkest corners of her soul.
Breakfast with Narcissa had been a whole other ordeal. Narcissa kept asking Hermione about her plans for next year, how the Unity Project was going, and about Harry.
It was as if Narcissa was having tea with an old friend, an old friend who had been tortured by her sister.
It was unnerving, but Hermione was gracious and complied with whatever she was asked. Her parents had raised her to be cordial.
Draco apologized over and over to her, but he didn't need to apologize for anything. Honestly, this experience in Malfoy Manor had given her a complex about the place. She hated the poignant memories— one of the most painful of her life, the other the most pleasureful.
She was still going to ream him out, sending her all those nighties in the middle of dinner like that? It was so typically Draco; possessive. She knew once she gave herself to him. He had warned her.
She would need to take delicate steps. Draco Malfoy was quicksand, and she was already sinking. He had her in a firm grasp, and she could so easily run up to him and wrap her mouth around his for everyone to see. But that wasn't Hermione Granger.
She knew who she was, and she didn't want to unnecessarily hurt anyone. She'd keep this relationship, or whatever it was, to herself as long as she could. Maybe she could tell Harry over the holidays? If the time was right.
Draco sat with Theo, Blaise, and Parkinson in the one class they shared that Monday, his eyes never leaving hers. She would look back, and they'd share a quick side smirk, but she'd pivot around to avoid any suspecting looks from her other classmates.
As she walked toward the Common Room, the halls felt eerily empty. Strange noises echoed around her, footsteps, but when she looked around, she couldn't see anything.
Hermione’s heart began to race, and her hand instinctively went to her wand. Carefully dancing her fingers over the handle as she kept walking, this time slower, more watchful.
Every sound seemed magnified, every shadow elongated, and she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being followed.
With a fierce jolt, a hand materialized out of thin air, yanking her into a dark broom closet that seemed to lurk in the shadows of an alcove.
Her wand was a reflex, pressing against her assailant's throat, her heart pounding against her ribcage.
The lone bulb swung ominously, casting erratic shadows that danced around his face—his white-blond hair framing a smirk. As his adam's apple bobbed with a gulp, Hermione's wand bore into his skin a little harder.
"Granger... I anticipated your displeasure, but resorting to physical violence? I must say, it's a pleasant surprise," he drawled, his voice dripping with arrogance. She scoffed, releasing her grip on him with a forceful gesture.
"What are you doing? You shouldn't sneak up on me like that," Hermione admonished breathlessly.
"I wanted to get you alone, the thought of you... straddling that chair in Runes, wishing it were me," Draco's voice was a seductive whisper, his breath teasingly close to her ear.
"You should have been focusing on the class," Hermione retorted, trying to maintain her composure despite the electric current coursing through her veins.
"With that skirt riding up your thigh? I'll never be able to focus again," Draco confessed, leaning in to steal a kiss. He was intoxicating, a potent elixir.
"You! What were you thinking sending me all those nighties yesterday?! I ran into Ron and Harry in the Great Hall, and the boxes fell to the floor. Luckily, Ginny covered for us, saying we were planning a pajama party... now she's actually planning one," Hermione exclaimed, pushing against his solid chest, though his smirk remained firmly in place.
"Why didn't you just tell them the truth?" Draco inquired.
"Draco... are you ready for everyone to know? We haven't even figured out what this is..." Hermione's voice trailed off, a note of uncertainty creeping in.
He groaned softly. "Don't say my name, Granger…….I refuse to hide you forever. I want you on my arm, and proudly. I want everyone to know who you belong to... so I'll give you time to figure things out with your friends, but my intentions, I want them crystal clear to you," Draco pressed closer.
"I want to tell Harry over the holidays, see how that goes?" Hermione suggested, her hand caressing his jaw tenderly.
"You’ll be with Potter then the next few weeks?" Draco's question was rushed, his eyes betraying a hint of insecurity.
"We usually spend the holidays at The Burrow, but Harry suggested Grimmauld Place this year. I'm not sure if he has anything planned, but it can't be worse than last year," Hermione chuckled nervously.
"So, you'll be in London, in case an owl needs to find you"
"No more nighties... I have enough," she added, her hands lingering on his chest, tracing over it gently.
"You'll never have enough…..What do I have to do to see you in one tonight? To have you come by my room?" Draco's voice was a husky whisper, his hand slowly trailing up her thigh.
"Malfoy, it's dangerous for me to go down there..." Hermione protested weakly, her resolve faltering under his touch.
"I'll come to you," he suggested, his hand inching higher up her skirt, teasingly reaching her core. Her breath hitched.
"You'll come to me? " she breathed, his fingers now tracing circles around her clit, her panties already dampening as he teased her.
"I'll come to you if you cum for me. I'm going to spend every night with you I can before the end of this week," Draco murmured, biting down on her lip as his movements grew more insistent.
Hermione's body responded eagerly, craving him desperately. She wanted him right then and there, but the confines of the broom closet weren’t the right place, or was it?
He slid a finger inside her, and Hermione's world spun into a typhoon.
Why did it feel so utterly exquisite?
Her head fell back, baring her neck to his lips as they trailed over her jugular.
"Draco..." she moaned, her voice a melody of desire, only for him to capture it with his tongue.
"Not yet, my love... I'll see you in your room at nine, and I want you to be wearing the cream color" Draco murmured, withdrawing his hand from her, leaving her trembling and achingly aroused as he swiftly exited the closet.
"Malfoy!" she roared, frustration and longing mingling in her voice as she was left alone in the darkness, her forehead meeting the cool glass of the Voma-Gone bottles with a frustrated thud.
She'd wear the cream one. She knew she would.
Fuck.
And she did.
And she wore the Forest Green on Tuesday, the Navy Blue on Wednesday, and the Bronzed Gold on Thursday.
By Friday, her body was deliciously sore, covered with hidden hickeys she couldn't conceal with another disillusionment charm, although one thought lingered: she would miss him terribly over the next three weeks.
Chapter 27: A Very Grimmauld Christmas
Chapter Text
Harry was thrilled; it was the end of the term. Hermione seemed to be in very good spirits, and Ron had gone back to being himself. After the night in Hogsmeade, he seemed not to be moody unless Hermione or Malfoy’s names were mentioned.
Hermione was her usual self, except for disappearing every night this week. She didn't even help him with either of his final papers, which was odd for her. She would usually jump at the chance, but she always needed to be gone by 8:30 to "focus." Harry had no idea what she was focusing on. The term had ended, after all.
Harry had said his goodbyes; Ron and Ginny were using the Floo Network in Hogsmeade to return to The Burrow, and Hermione and Harry were planning to do the same, just at another scheduled time.
Being in their eighth year, they didn't need to take the train back like the younger students, so they were going to take advantage of the small perks they did have.
Hermione had packed her trunk and was carrying it down the steps as Harry stood in the entrance hall to meet her. He was rather pleased with himself; he had taken the time to schedule a few activities for them over the holidays. He planned to take her to all the best Muggle Christmas markets, ice skating at Hyde Park, then spend another day in Diagon Alley shopping; he had even purchased tickets for them to see The Nutcracker.
He hoped that would be enough to keep her mind at ease. He hadn't told her yet about inviting Theo over for Christmas Eve, but he had arranged with Kreacher to do appetizers, cocktails, and tree decorating.
This wasn't his sort of thing, but he was very happy with how well he felt it was coming together, all without the help of Ginny. Although Neville had helped him with a few ideas, he didn’t need to tell Hermione that.
"All set then?" Harry asked, grabbing a handle of her trunk as it levitated behind them, beginning to walk toward the Grounds.
"I really do appreciate this, Harry. I know this year isn't easy for either of us," she said, gripping his arm with her hand as he smiled and nodded.
"Don't even worry about it. This is still one of my better Christmases," Harry replied, and he wasn't lying. He could count on one hand his top five Christmases, and they were all after he began Hogwarts and got away from the Dursleys.
They arrived quicker than they thought in Hogsmeade. Harry had lightly gone over his itinerary for the next three weeks to try and gauge her reaction. So far, she seemed ecstatic about all his plans and was gracious to him for planning everything. He felt a small sense of pride as they stepped into the Floo.
"12 Grimmauld Place," he roared, and he and Hermione twisted in green flames.
They both landed in the drawing room. The team of renovators Harry had hired, which had cost a good chunk of galleons, had done an amazing job transforming the place. He had tried to preserve as much of the original structure and design as he could; to pay homage to the Blacks, but updated the furniture, carpeting, and wallpaper, and added new bedding and linens. It looked almost new, as it might have at the height of the Black family's power and wealth.
"Harry, this is wonderful," Hermione gushed as she stepped out of the Floo.
Harry had to admit it was wonderful, and Kreacher had held up his end of the bargain by hanging Christmas lights, evergreen trimmings, and bulbs to add some festivity.
"Welcome home Master Potter, Kreacher will take his trunk to his room," Kreacher croaked as he came around the corner.
"Kreacher, it's lovely to see you," Hermione pressed, but Kreacher turned away slightly.
"The Muggle-born Granger is with Master Potter. Does Master Potter want me to take Muggle-born Granger's trunk?" Kreacher said, not responding to Hermione.
"Yes, Kreacher, bring Hermione's trunk to the third-floor room, please," Harry said, trying not to scold the elf but at least he was trying.
"Oh, Harry no. I can do it!" Hermione reached for the trunk at the same time as Kreacher, her hand almost touching his, but he recoiled.
"No, Master Potter says Kreacher will do it," he hissed back quickly, levitating both trunks and dragging himself from the room.
"At least he's stopped calling you the 'M' word," Harry grimaced
"How reassuring,"
"Want the tour then?" Harry said, smiling back.
He walked Hermione through the house, showing her the familiar rooms that had been redone. No longer were there cobwebs and rodents scurrying through the walls. It was now a gorgeous London home. The kitchen boasted new appliances, both magical and Muggle. He had even brought in TVs for one of the living rooms.
Harry admitted he liked TV, reminiscence of his days with the Dursleys, sneaking peaks at whatever awful show Dudley was watching.
He showed Hermione her room, which was Regulus's old one. Golden, blue, and white hues adorned the space, with creams and light wood highlighted by the massive drapery on the windows. Moving photos of the three of them sat on the desk, a reminder of their trio. Now looking over he wasn't sure if she'd want that reminder of her Ron and Harry splattered all over the room.
"Harry, I'm speechless, honestly," she said, turning to him and pulling him into a massive hug. He saw the tears in her eyes, which made him slightly uncomfortable. He was never a fan of tears, especially when they came from girls.
"I know I haven't said anything yet, but you know next year when school is finished, you can always stay here. This could be your room. You've always been there for me, Hermione, and I haven't forgotten that," he said with all sincerity.
"What about Ron? I figured..." she pushed.
"Ron has a great room at the Burrow or with George in Diagon Alley. I'm sure he'd understand," and he hoped Ron would.
He'd be spending nearly every day in Auror training with him, and he was sure he'd still love to have home-cooked meals and someone to do his tidying for him.
Ron had options, but Hermione didn't. She had only herself to rely on, and if she did get into the Ministry, the salary of an intern was paltry, and London rent or Diagon Alley rent would eat up most of it.
Harry wanted to offer her this; he felt it was the least he could have done.
"I... I don't know what to say," she said, tears on the brink of falling down her face.
"You don't have to say anything now, but I needed you to hear it from me," he said, trying to ease her nerves. "Get settled, then let's head to the market?" he finished, and she nodded back.
Harry and Hermione decided to go to one of the Muggle markets in London. There were so many to choose from that they doubted they'd be able to visit them all in one day, but neither of them had any holiday shopping done yet.
"Alright... who do you have left to buy for?" she asked him as they sipped hot chocolates and made their way under the string of lights and holly, fir trees lining the closed cobblestone streets.
"Pretty much everyone," Harry said, looking down at his list, catching Hermione's eye peering over.
"You're still buying for Ginny?" she asked quietly.
"I've thought about that, but it only seems right... I can't show up with something for everyone and nothing for her. I've been back and forth on what to get her, nothing too intimate, but nothing too friendly. Will you still pick something up for Ron?" he asked shyly.
"Probably. I can't not, but I'm with you... what do you get the ex-boyfriend who's furious with you, who is also still one of your best friends?" she said back in a small huff.
They walked through the market for hours, Harry slowly picking away at his list. Bill and Fleur would get handmade chocolates and a flower vase from a local pottery shop. Percy would receive an inscribed notebook, while Arthur would get a leather briefcase and a Rubik’s cube—he knew he’d love that little touch of Muggle.
As for Ron, George, Ginny, Molly, and Charlie, they were all too hard to buy for in a Muggle market, so he’d have to head to Diagon Alley for that.
However, he did find a silk scarf for Hermione, along with matching gloves. He pointed at Hermione to the maker at the stall, and she picked out a blue shade, saying it would look great with her coloring. He shrugged that off having no idea what that meant, paid for the items, and had them wrapped.
Hermione had gone off to another stall when Harry caught up with her. She blushed quickly, giving a few pounds over to the stall owner, and shoved something heavy-looking wrapped in parchment into the beaded bag she carried.
“Did you find something?” he asked her.
“Oh yeah, but it’s nothing... Have you got everything?” she asked.
“I picked up yours, Arthur, Percy, Bill, and Fleur. Still missing Ron, Molly, George, Charlie, Hagrid, Ginny… oh, and Theo!” Harry remembered.
“Theo? Theodore Nott?” Hermione questioned, scrunching her face.
“I forgot to mention, I invited him over for Christmas Eve. He said he’d be all alone over the holidays, so I figured I’d pick something up for him. I doubt he’ll get anything else, or maybe the Slytherins exchange gifts. Regardless, he’s on my list,” Harry explained.
He remembered what it was like his first Christmas away from the Dursleys. He wasn’t expecting any gifts, yet the Weasleys, Hermione, and Hagrid had given him some. He remembered that feeling of being included, and he wanted to do that for Theo.
“Harry Potter and his Christmas for Orphans,” she said with a reluctant smile.
“Don’t say that, ‘Mione. You still might be able to get your parents’ back,” he said delicately.
“Harry, it’s alright. I’ve still got a few on my list too. Want to head back and try Diagon tomorrow?” Hermione said with a smile, linking his arm.
“Alright, but I’m grabbing another hot chocolate,” he smiled.
Hermione woke up on Christmas Eve feeling exhausted. The bed she slept in was one of the most comfortable she had ever experienced, but Harry had kept her on her feet throughout the last few weeks.
They had bounced around markets, visited Diagon Alley, gone ice skating, attended plays, made snowmen, decorated Christmas cookies, and even built a gingerbread house. It seemed like Harry was trying to cram in everything they had missed out on in their childhood into these three weeks, although Hermione couldn't help but think it was mostly for her sake.
She felt overwhelmed by his thoughtfulness. His invitation for her to stay with him next year during his Auror training had caught her off guard. She hadn't given much thought to her living arrangements yet, but as January approached, June would come faster than she anticipated. She needed a place to live, and staying at the Burrow wasn't a viable option.
Hermione seriously considered taking Harry up on his offer. If she decided to invest her small savings into higher education, she might not have the budget to live on her own.
Over the past few weeks, Hermione had managed to get a present for everyone on her list, including something for Theo now that he was coming over later that evening. She had also found something for Draco at the market, but now she felt silly every time she considered sending it to him via owl for tomorrow morning.
Draco had been sending her owls every few nights, usually just a few lines summarizing his day. It was odd, but she found herself looking forward to them each night. Most of his messages were about holiday gala events his mother dragged him to or drinking with Theo, while she felt like a little girl writing back about her trips to the market or ice skating.
Hermione spent most of the day in the kitchen with Kreacher, who proved to be a difficult chef to work under. He shooed her out of his way, never touching her, of course, and ignored her advice when she suggested appetizers to serve for the evening. So Hermione took it upon herself to focus on cocktails instead.
She pillaged the bar in the house, finding mainly Firewhiskey and mead, with maybe some wine mixed in. But she wanted to make muggle cocktails, drinks that Theo may not have had before, or Harry for that matter. She settled on margaritas, inspired by a show they had watched together on TV the other night where all the glamorous women were drinking them.
Hermione went to the store and bought as many limes and tequila as she could carry back.
Harry seemed excited, perhaps about the margaritas, or maybe about Theo's arrival. When he had mentioned Theo coming, it was surprising. She didn't realize they had become that close, or perhaps they hadn't, but Harry was clearly in the Christmas spirit.
Theo was supposed to arrive around 6:30 PM, and Harry took extra long preparing himself in the bathroom, which Hermione found odd. He even tried to put some Sleakeazy's Hair Potion in his hair, and he wore a white button-up shirt and trousers, looking rather dashing.
Hermione opted for a deep red turtleneck dress, which was skin-tight but still modest. She pulled her hair half up and half down.
Kreacher was just putting out the trays of appetizers, Hermione threw the listed ingredients into a blender and tapped her wand for it to blitz, hoping to give them a trial run before Theo arrived. Just as she did, the doorbell rang.
Instantly, Hermione cringed, expecting Walburga's portrait to erupt, but she had forgotten that a professional renovator had put a permanent silencing charm on it, so her screams went unheard.
"I figured he'd arrive by Floo," Harry mumbled back toward Hermione as they went to open the door.
With a quick pull, Harry swung the door open, revealing Theo standing tall as ever, grinning from ear to ear. He was clad in a long dark peacoat, his shaggy brown hair falling effortlessly around his face. He carried two massive boxes, one full of liquor and the other mysterious to Hermione's eyes.
But what caught her off guard, to her shock and absolute delight, was Draco standing beside him, leaning against the stoop. He wore a sleek black peacoat, trousers, and a button-up shirt, exuding his casual air of effortless elegance as he always did.
His eyes immediately met hers, and she felt her cheeks flush as he smirked.
"Hope you don't mind, Potter. Malfoy tagged along," Theo said, breaking the momentary silence.
"You told me he knew!" Draco shot back quickly, his gaze briefly leaving Hermione's before returning. As he moved, she caught a whiff of his cologne, and a rush of memories flooded her mind.
"Ah yeah it's not a worry, you're both welcome. Kreacher has probably overprepared anyway! Come on in," Harry chimed in with a wild smile, gesturing for them to enter.
Hermione stepped aside as Draco and Theo pushed past them, walking into the entranceway and hanging their coats on the hooks.
"Where can I bring this?" Theo called out, hoisting up his boxes.
"Hermione has everything set up in the living room. I'll show you," Harry said kindly, turning and guiding Theo down the hallway. He looked back at Hermione, gesturing for her to come with him.
She shot a coy look over to Draco, who nodded in response. As she turned to follow Harry, she felt Draco’s hand lightly grip the back of her neck. They walked down the hallway together, Theo chatting merrily as they went.
Draco leaned in and whispered, "Theo told me you knew," and Hermione shook her head slightly.
"I'm glad you're here," she whispered back, locking eyes with him. She found herself drawn into those swirling gray orbs.
Hermione trailed behind Theo and Harry into the living room, the festive ambiance wrapping around them. Their glasses, each filled with slushy margarita mix, sat on the bar. With a flick of her wand, she casually cast a Gemino charm, and another round appeared for Draco.
The hearth crackled, casting a glow throughout the room. The Christmas tree sparkled with lights, reflecting off the baubles and holly covering its branches.
Every corner boasted holiday décor. It was evident that Kreacher had been hard at work while they greeted their guests at the door, as charcuterie boards were elegantly arranged on the tables.
“Shit, Potter, this is where you live?” Theo remarked, looking around the room with curiosity.
"It was my Godfather's. It belonged to..." Harry began.
"The Black family," Draco finished, his eyes scanning the portraits that Harry had left on the walls.
"Yeah," Harry confirmed, noticing Draco's gaze.
"What are those?!" Theo exclaimed, moving dangerously close to the margaritas.
"Margaritas. I made them... it's a muggle cocktail. I thought we could all try them?" Hermione offered, levitating the glasses toward them.
"I've heard of these... aren't these full of tequila?" Draco asked, eyeing the glass suspiciously.
"That, and limes, simple syrup, and triple sec, blended with ice. That's what the recipe called for," Hermione explained, blushing at the thought of serving Draco Malfoy a margarita.
"Fucking brilliant, Granger. These are delicious," Theo complimented, downing half of his in an instant.
"Master Potter, Kreacher is bringing stuffed mushroom caps for Master Potter's guests," Kreacher announced as he shuffled into the room, dropping the tray onto the table and making a little bow before looking up.
"Kreacher, this is Theodore Nott and Draco Malfoy," Harry introduced the elf.
"Mr. Malfoy, oh what a pleasure it is to see you again. What a pleasure it is, Kreacher is so pleased to offer you mushroom caps," Kreacher's demeanor instantly changed, and he began to fawn all over Draco.
Hermione gave Harry an odd look, and he stifled a laugh.
"Ah, sure?" Draco hesitated, reaching for a mushroom cap and delicately putting it in his mouth, nodding in agreement, as Kreacher’s bulging eyes watched.
"Kreacher is honored that Mr. Malfoy likes the mushroom caps. Kreacher will bring out more food for Master Potter's esteemed guests," Kreacher declared before bowing and heading out of the room.
"Sorry about that. He's had a hard-on for you for ages.” Harry chuckled.
"I can see that. Does he know me?" Draco asked quickly.
"He'd like to," Theo interjected jokingly, finishing his margarita.
"Well, I got him to tail you most of the sixth year, and he had a really hard time about it. I think that's where the crush developed. He used to tell me all the time he'd prefer that you were his Master.” Harry said refilling his glass.
“Potter, you had that elf tail me?” Draco almost spit out his first drink.
“That's how I found you in the Room of Requirement, but don't worry. Kreacher is harmless. We just got him to stop calling Hermione 'Mudblood' and Ron a 'blood traitor,' so it's progress," Harry explained with a grin.
“Charming…” Draco grimaced and chugged a big swig.
“Alright, as promised, I brought Fire Whiskey, Gin, Vodka, Wine… Oh, and Draco brought the good champagne,” Theo said, lifting each bottle out of the box.
“Are we getting smashed tonight?” Draco laughed, his tone giving Hermione a delicious little stir.
“Why not? We don't have to be at The Burrow until dinner,” Harry said, pounding another margarita.
“The Burrow?” Draco asked, glancing over toward Hermione.
“Yes, we're having Christmas dinner with the Weasleys,” she replied, avoiding his stare.
“How are the Weasel and the Weaslette anyway?” Theo asked, quickly moving beside Hermione.
“Honestly, I haven’t spoken with either of them. Unless you’ve chatted with Gin?” Harry asked Hermione, and she shook her head.
“I promised Ron we’d go over. I think Molly would show up here and drag us over if we didn’t go,” Harry laughed, and Hermione felt her cheeks grow warm as she finished her first glass, Draco’s eye digging into her.
“Does anyone want anything else?” she held up her glass.
“I’ll take another,” Draco said, moving closer to her to the bar.
“What about your other twosome? Parkinson and Zabini?” Harry asked Theo, joining him by the side.
“Well, Zabini is in Italy with his mother. They have an estate there. And I believe Parkinson’s mom and sister are in Paris, but she’s seemed to weasel out of it,” Theo said with a wink to Draco, who gave him a glower. Hermione found that odd.
“Your mother won’t be upset if you don’t spend the night with her on Christmas Eve?” Hermione questioned.
“Are you inviting me to spend the night, Granger?” Draco flirted, and Hermione felt her body flush with heat.
Fuck, she'd love to feel his body next to hers tonight in that glorious bed.
“You both should! I have tons of rooms, and plus, by the looks of all this, you’ll be in no shape to Apparate,” Harry suggested.
“Fantastic hospitality, Potter. We’d love to,” Theo agreed enthusiastically.
“I’m just going to check that Kreacher hasn’t died from shock,” Harry said, looking around the door.
“I’ll follow. I’d love to take a deeper look around,” Theo said, smiling over at Hermione and Draco as they rounded the corner, and she pivoted toward him.
“You’re going to the Weasleys tomorrow?” he asked, moving closer as she backed against the wall.
“Yeah. Harry wasn’t going to go if I wasn’t, so…” Hermione replied, her breath heavy.
"I hate that," he breathed back.
"They are my family," she replied quickly.
"I fucking know... doesn't mean I don't hate it," he huffed. "But you look amazing," he whispered, closing the gap between them.
“I didn’t expect to see you. I’m happy that Theo brought you,” she confessed, pressing their lips together.
“Miss me, Granger?” he murmured, pulling away.
“Yes,” she breathed, her lips meeting his eagerly. It was like a drug she had been craving, finally getting the hit.
"If we manage to get Potter drunk, do you reckon I can slip into your room later?" he teased playfully.
"Absolutely not," she smirked, her hand firmly gripping his chest as she intensified the kiss.
The holiday lights seemed to dance around them, fueling the fervor of their embrace.
"I adore it when you try and resist me," Draco groaned, his hand sliding up her thigh.
“Yes, Kreacher, like Cantankerous Nott, so I don’t understand why I can’t have one of these lamb meatballs before Draco does? My ancestors wrote the damn book!” they heard Theo roar from around the corner, and Draco and Hermione broke apart. She moved to the bar to make another pitcher of margaritas.
After Kreacher insisted on feeding them every snack he had made, again refusing to let anyone try anything unless Draco did first, it became a drinking game for them.
Every time Kreacher fawned over Draco, they would take a drink. As the game progressed, a different kind of warmth began to surge, spreading like wildfire through her veins. Her legs, once steady, now felt like they were on fire as if they were swelling from the heat. Her face radiated a rosy flush that betrayed her soberness.
“I need to ask,” Theo drawled as the empty bottle of tequila fell to the floor behind the bar.
“Do you actually?” Draco laughed, and Hermione noticed a subtle gloss in his eyes, a redness in his cheeks, and Harry couldn’t stop laughing at everything.
They were getting drunk.
“What is this?” Theo pointed at one of the gingerbread houses they had made a few days earlier.
“Nott, have you never seen a gingerbread house before?” Harry stood, his feet a little unsteady.
“We made that!” Hermione felt herself giggle.
“You two made that?! No wonder it looks like ass,” Draco drawled.
“It does not look like ass!” Hermione retorted, and Harry burst out laughing.
“It does look like ass. We promised we wouldn’t use magic, and it does look like ass,” Harry giggled harder.
“So, what were you trying to do?” Theo continued.
“It’s a Muggle tradition. You get gingerbread, icing, and candies, and you build a sweet treat house. You’ve never done that before?” Hermione asked.
“Wizarding households don’t really celebrate Christmas; we celebrate Yule,” Draco said smugly.
“Wizarding households don’t really celebrate Christmas; we celebrate Yule. I’m Draco Malfoy Pureblood Prince,” Harry slurred mockingly, swirling his glass in a posh way, and Hermione couldn’t help but laugh loudly, widening Theo’s eyes as he laughed along.
“Did you just mock me, Potter? Real mature,” Draco said, but a smirk was on his face regardless.
“It’s all in the spirit of Christmas, or as you purebloods would have it, the Yuletide,” Harry said as he moved up toward Nott at the bar, Theo casually wrapping his arm around Harry and smirking.
“I love this man,” Theo smiled, and Hermione watched Harry blush slightly.
It was strange; Harry wasn’t shy.
“Can we play some music, please?” Theo continued quickly, glancing at Draco, which Hermione caught.
“What kind of music? Christmas music?” Hermione said, flicking her wand to the CD player.
“No, that Muggle garbage I love,” Theo oozed, spilling his drink slightly on the floor, and Draco quickly cast a cleaning charm like he had been cleaning up after Theo his whole life.
“Muggle garbage?” Hermione looked between the two boys, confused.
“Theo… loves…. Ice Ice Baby,” Draco said with a long-suffering sigh.
“What?!” Hermione was floored.
“Play it, Hermione!” Harry yelled, clearly wasted.
“Draco, it’s time to open the Dom,” Theo yelled as Hermione did as Harry said with another flick of her wand.
“Theo, no. We are not having another repeat of the Parkinson Paris Summer Incident of 1995,” Draco said begrudgingly.
Hermione couldn’t help but notice that Draco was smiling and walking toward the chiller where the bottle of Dom Pérignon sat. Within an instant, Theo had his arms out, enthusiastically thrusting and singing loudly.
“All right, stop, collaborate, and listen, Ice is back with a brand new invention,” Theo sang, moving around, and Hermione couldn’t help but unleash a guttural laugh and a whoop.
“Come on, Potter, you know this!” Theo shouted, and Hermione moved to the bar beside Draco, who continued to roll his eyes and reluctantly popped the champagne.
“Don’t indulge him, Potter!” Draco yelled as Harry moved quickly beside Theo.
Hermione was stunned.
Both Theo and Harry stood drunkenly, stumbling over each other and giving a horribly poor show of it, screaming:
“Yo, I'll solve it, Check out the hook while my DJ revolves it, Ice ice baby, Vanilla, Ice ice baby,”
“You both are bloody horrendous,” Draco yelled over the booming music, tipping the bottle of champagne and chugging it directly onto his lips. Oh, how she wanted to be that bottle.
“That’s not very Malfoy heir of you,” she said in her most haughty tone.
“Now you know all my dirty secrets,” he winked as he passed her the bottle.
“It feels better drinking expensive champagne directly from the bottle,” he continued, his breath smelling of the sweet bubbles, mouthwatering as she pressed it to her lips. Sour, and sweet mingling together as she took three large gulps, the carbonated liquid running smoothly down her throat, the lights in the room blurring.
“Pass that here, Granger!” Theo shouted, and Hermione passed the bottle over to where Theo and Harry were standing.
“You can’t tell me the golden trio doesn’t have a song, a song that you always would scream? Embarrassing or not?” Theo said, looking at Harry.
“Well, there’s that one…” Harry said, looking over to Hermione.
“Oh no, Harry! Not that one,” Hermione protested.
“What one?” Draco shot a mischievous look over at her.
“I need to preface that Ron had just discovered Muggle music and his taste was questionable,” Hermione joked.
“I need more!” Theo laughed
“Okay… Tubthumping,” Hermione finally released.
“Tubthumping?” Draco questioned.
“Yes… Ron had this thing when he heard it, he’d call it my song… because…” Harry began, and Theo cut him off.
“Because you got knocked down and you’d get up again!” Theo roared. “Oh, please, please play it!” he was laughing like a maniac.
“Only if Draco sings it too!” Hermione looked over, and Draco still had a smile, his lips reddened, his eyes bloodshot, his cheeks flushed, his eyes glossy.
Draco Malfoy was piss drunk.
“I don’t know the song,” he protested.
“You’ll figure it out, mate!” Theo shouted as Harry went to turn up the CD player.
After the first chorus of “I get knocked down, but I get up again,” Hermione noticed that Draco was slowly moving his head with the music and mouthing the words, joining where Harry and Theo were now on the couches, jumping with the beat.
“He drinks a whiskey drink,” Theo would shout, conjuring a shot of whiskey.
“He takes a vodka drink,” Harry would shoot back with a shot of Vodka.
Draco finally moved to the couches, and Hermione grabbed his hand to join him on the cushion that she was now standing on, looking over at Theo and Harry.
“He sings the songs that remind him of the good times,” Theo would shout to Harry, and Harry would shout-sing back.
“He sings the songs that remind him of the better times,”
Hermione was jumping, singing at the top of her lungs, the freest fun she had had in her entire life as she looked over to Draco, Theo, and Harry, all jumping up and screaming beside her the same lyrics.
“I get knocked down, but I get up again. You are never gonna keep me down!” It became their anthem at the moment, and the swirling of liquor in her head and veins kept her smile locked on her face until it was beginning to hurt.
Theo and Harry collapsed on the floor, their laughter echoing down the hallway, and Draco seized her hand and tugged her towards the doors, a mischievous gleam in his eyes.
"Draco, they'll notice," she whispered, trying to suppress a giggle.
"I highly doubt it," he murmured, pulling her closer, his touch igniting a dangerous lust within her. Leaning in, their lips met in a desperate kiss.
"Come to my room," she breathed, feeling the pulse in her core quicken at his touch.
"Show me the fucking way," Draco growled
Hermione took his hand and led him up the staircase, her steps unsteady with the sloshing of booze in her body.
He caught her waist, effortlessly lifting her the rest of the way in his arms. They burst through the door, consumed by their craving for each other.
Draco's hands impatiently tugged at the hem of her dress, their restraint crumbling. Hermione's fingers fumbled with his shirt, lust driving their movements toward her bed.
He lifted her into his arms, his strength unimaginable as he threw her back down on the mattress.
"Happy Christmas, Granger," he said, standing over her, his eyes smoldered as he unbuckled his belt.
"Happy Christmas, Malfoy," she breathed in response, stripped off her shirt, naked and ready for him.
He put his leg between her as she lay there and lifted her slightly against the sheets, bringing his fingers up her thighs.
She needed this. Needed him.
“Fucking hell, you are soaked..”
He began to put pressure between her pussy, rubbing her clit effortlessly, knowing the exact spot.
She gasped, the tingling was unbearable, and she squirmed needing more.
Her hand found the waistband of his briefs, and her fingers began rubbing the outline of his cock, harder and harder as she put more pressure and friction between the two of them. She was rubbing every part of her body against his, to get more, to feel more.
He groaned… “Granger..”
She flipped herself over on the mattress moving to her knees, blinking her big brown eyes up at him as she pulled down the waistband, she sucked on the bottom of her lip.
Slow, painfully slow, as she watched his eyes become heavily lidded. She pulled out his cock, it was throbbing in her hands.
Draco was still, looking down at her with hunger in his eyes, almost dangerous. He was unmoving.
She shivered and began to lick the tip. Draco moaned and thrust his hips toward her.
He was so big, but the liquid courage pushed her forward. She took his cock and slowly began to put it further and further into the back of her throat, licking and sucking as she went up and down.
“Fuck, you are such a good girl… my good girl,” He said encouraging her as she sucked, his hand delicately on the back of her curls.
Hermione kept licking up and down, letting her tongue linger over the spots that made him moan.
He put his hands under her chin, and brought her back up to him, kissing her. Draco grabbed her waist and hoisted her up on top of him, she was straddling him. He stared up at her, she needed his lips on her nipples, she needed him to grab her there, lick her there.
With one hand cupping her breast, he began to twirl his tongue all over her tits. Electric currents soared through her body.
“Draco” she gasped out. He looked up and smiled at her sinisterly, palmed his cock, and slide it inside her without protest.
“Holy fuckkk…” he groaned as his eyes rolled back into his head. “So fucking wet for me,” he finished in a grunt.
He thrust into her harder and harder, she felt his thumb rubbing her clit.
“I need you….” she kept moaning louder and louder.
She felt every inch of him sliding in and out of her, clenching as they were inching toward their climax.
The pleasure spilled over her, she knew he could feel her tighten around his cock as she came, gasping and pleading. Unable to control the want for him any longer.
Draco's thrusts became faster, unsteady and she felt his heartbeat as she held his wrists, trying to steady herself.
“You're mine, Granger. You're fucking mine," he breathed as he filled her.
They both sat there, gasping for air.
She was perched on top of him, her legs entwined around his hard, chiseled body. His jaw clenched as she ran her hands through his perfect hair.
He tasted of saccharine champagne.
"I brought you a present," he whispered, placing a kiss on her collarbone, and running his hands through her hair, not letting her leave his arms.
And that was the last thing she remembered: the alcohol coursing through her veins, her mind spinning with pleasure, and Draco Malfoy inside her.
Chapter 28: A Very Grimmauld Christmas Part. II
Chapter Text
Harry Potter was dead, he had to be – although the last time he died he wasn’t in so much pain. He swore if he woke up, he’d be back in Kings Cross; this time, Dumbledore would scold him over indulging with Theodore Nott and Draco Malfoy. He was scared to open his eyes. But he did anyway because he was pretty sure it was still Christmas morning.
The sunlight hit his eyes and he blinked rapidly, trying to assess the situation. He was still in his button-up, his hair a mess, and he somehow made it out of his trousers, but briefs still on. He was in his bed. Check, he made it there, but as he rolled over, so had Theo.
Harry gulped, rubbing his eyes and putting his glasses back on. Theo was shirtless, wearing his trousers still, his shaggy curly brown hair draped on his forehead like the perfection it always was.
Harry didn’t understand why he felt an uncomfortable stirring inside him when his eyes trailed down Theo’s chest. He was lean, but his abs were defined, a small trail of hair leading downward.
Harry shook his head; it was a weird feeling. He had seen a lot of men shirtless: Ron, George, Fred, Oliver, mainly in the Quidditch changing room. But why did he feel so... so... he didn’t want even to think it while looking over at Nott.
“Happy Christmas, Potter,” Theo stretched, tugging at his already taut muscular skin.
“Ah... Happy Christmas... what the hell happened?” Harry asked, quickly moving to his feet, feeling like he was going to vomit if he moved much faster.
“You got wrecked, or I should say we got wrecked,” Theo moaned.
“That doesn’t really explain why you’re in my bed,” Harry said oddly.
“I don’t have an explanation for that one... but it’s pretty cozy,” Theo smiled.
“We should get downstairs; Kreacher I’m sure is already cooking breakfast... if I can stomach it,” Harry said, feeling like vomit could make its way up at any moment.
“No need to fear, I brought some of Malfoy’s hangover potion; it’s the best around. He won’t tell anyone how it’s made, though... rather annoying,” Theo said, sitting up, dangling his feet over the side and pulling his shirt back on.
“I should go wake them up; I’m sure Hermione made it back to her room. If you want to go look for Malfoy... there’s a spare room a floor down if you want to start there,” Harry suggested, putting his pants back on.
“I’ll just follow you first,” Theo said, but it wasn’t a suggestion; it was a statement.
Harry and Theo both walked from his room, and Harry was right; Kreacher was definitely already making breakfast as the smell of crisping bacon hit his nose instantly.
“Oh god,” he said, his stomach churning.
“Which one is Granger's?” Theo asked, looking around the hallway of doors as he walked out of Harry's room.
“Last to the left,” Harry said, pushing past him and giving a small knock as he reached it.
No answer, but Harry knew that if Hermione was in the same state he had been, she might not have woken up to a knock.
“’ Mione, it’s Christmas morning, wake up,” Harry said in the cheeriest voice he could muster as Theo stood behind him, with a suspicious look on his face.
Harry opened the door to a sight that he wished he could permanently remove; he had his top five worst sights burned in his brain and ranked.
Number 5. When Harry watched Ron and Hermione grinding grotesquely on the dancefloor at Halloween.
Number 4. Voldemort on the back of Quirrell’s head.
Number 3. Voldemort rising from that bubbling cauldron in the graveyard after the Triwizard Tournament.
Number 2. Cedric dying.
Number 1. Sirius dying.
But he was positive this might now take the number 4 or 5 spot.
Draco Malfoy was completely naked, with Hermione also completely naked except for a pair of gaudy emerald earrings and a matching necklace hanging off her. There was a small sheet that was wrapped between both of their... well, bits. But Draco had her so entwined with him that Harry couldn’t decipher where one ended and the other began.
Holy fuck. Ron was right.
“Hermione!” Harry felt himself shout, not even realizing it.
“We found Draco... who would have thought? Not me,” Theo said dully as the thought of him wanting to come here first came back to Harry; oh, he fucking knew too.
“Oh my god, Harry!” Hermione's eyes shot open, grabbing all the sheets to try and cover herself, as she did she accidentally completely exposed Draco, who stirred unbothered that his entire area was on display.
“Ron was right! Am I actually that stupid?” Harry said in disbelief.
“I wouldn’t say that stupid Potter,” Draco drawled in a yawn, stretching; clearly not a care in the world that his dick was out.
“Could you please cover yourself up,” Harry said as he pushed his hands over the monstrous shaft that hung between Draco’s legs. How the fuck did he even walk was beyond Harry — Draco just scoffed and pulled some of the sheets back over himself.
“Harry... I was going to tell you. I promise I was,” Hermione said quickly.
“Tell me? So this isn’t the first time?” Harry asked again.
“Not by a long shot, mate,” Draco smirked, and Hermione nudged him hard.
“Alright... what is going to happen now, is you two are going to put on some fucking clothes and come downstairs, and we are going to have a nice Christmas morning…. I’m going to repress this horrid image deep in the back of my mind until after... then we’re going to chat, Hermione,” Harry said as he went to turn.
“Harry...” Hermione pleaded.
“You heard the man! And Draco as lovely as it is to see you like this, and the dragon,” Theo said quickly giving a chef’s kiss as he pointed to Draco’s... well, you get it.
“Get up, we have eggs to scramble, hangover potions to drink, and presents to open, but I can see that Granger has already opened hers,” Theo then pointed to the emeralds glittering off her ears and neck.
“So let’s go,” he finished, closing the door and looking Harry back in the face with a massive grin.
“You knew!” Harry said angrily as he walked by Theo, annoyed.
He always suspected Theo knew more than he let on, but he hated being right about it.
“And? It wasn’t my place to tell you,” Theo said, running a few steps in front of Harry as they swiftly moved down the staircase toward the living room.
Harry had never been more thankful for Kreacher than when he walked in to see all the liquor and food from last night had been cleaned, and beneath the tree was a stack of gifts, which had clearly grown in size since last night.
“You know, you have a knack for always making me feel stupid around you,” Harry said quickly as he watched Theo dig in the box he had brought that held gifts. Theo pulled out a long vial of dark blue liquid and walked back over to Harry.
“Interesting, I didn’t think I had any kind of effect over you, Potter,” Theo said, stopping in his tracks.
“Malfoy hates people like Hermione... I’m not going to let him hurt her or use her or whatever that is,” Harry felt his rage boiling, trying to gulp down the attraction that Theo was bringing up.
It wasn't about Hermione; Harry knew it was about the feelings that Nott was causing him to have.
“You really think that?! Upstairs, that’s hate? Hermione Granger dripping in a hundred thousand galleons of Malfoy ancestral jewelry, wake up, Potter, he’s obsessed with her,” Theo snapped back.
Harry stood still as Theo moved closer.
“Is that what you think of all of us, that we hate you?” Theo was now inches from Harry’s face, the vial still gripped in his hand.
“No...” Harry said quietly.
“No?” Theo questioned, moving his hand toward Harry’s face, placing it softly over his jaw and cheekbone, rubbing his thumb over the contour, and bringing the potion up to Harry’s lips.
Harry felt his heart stop beating as Theo tipped the vial inward, and he drank deeply. It was the only thing he could do with Theo standing so close, rubbing his skin.
He closed his eyes.
The vial had vanished, and it was replaced by something else, soft, supple, that tasted like menthol—lips.
Harry felt Theo's lips on his, and he couldn’t move, didn’t move as he just pushed back, kissed back.
Theo moved away, Harry heard him take a deep inhale, stirring an unfamiliar sensation within him. He found himself strangely drawn to it. Their eyes met, Theo's dark brown eyes locking with Harry's green ones. The smile had vanished from Theo's face, revealing a vulnerability beneath the mask he wore.
"How do you feel?" Theo's voice was soft, devoid of its usual bravado.
Harry felt a pang of longing as he realized he missed the sensation of Theo's lips on his own. It was a strange feeling; one he hadn't experienced before. He had never considered kissing a boy, yet here he was, wishing Theo wasn't so far away, wanting his touch again.
"Good," Harry managed to nod, though the pounding of his heart drowned out his words.
The sound of footsteps broke the moment as Malfoy and Hermione entered the living room, Hermione's cheeks flushed with a permanent blush as she avoided meeting Harry's gaze.
Kreacher shuffled in afterward, balancing trays of tea, coffee, and muggle liqueurs like Baileys and Kahlua.
"Happy Christmas, Kreacher!" Theo exclaimed, his mask of nonchalance back in place as he sprawled himself over one of Harry's couches, his long legs dangling.
Malfoy poured himself and Hermione another vial of the potion from the box, along with a cup of coffee. At Hermione's suggestion, he added Baileys, a combination he had never tried before. Soon, they were all indulging, while Theo rummaged through his box, revealing gifts for both Hermione and Harry.
"Did Malfoy get you those?" Harry's voice cracked slightly as gifts were passed around, his eyes lingering on the two massive emeralds in Hermione's ears and the long silver chain she had tucked into her sweater.
"Yeah," she blushed, fingering the chain, while Draco smiled warmly at her. Harry recalled Theo's words — they were Malfoy family heirlooms. Did Hermione know that?
The rest of the morning passed relatively normally despite the tumultuous start: the lingering memory of the kiss, the image of Draco and Hermione together, and the uncertainty about what to do regarding Ron.
Theo had surprised Harry with a thoughtful gift — a cream-colored quarter-zip jumper with a small maroon and gold lion engraved on the side. Draco had gifted Harry an expensive bottle of Fire Whiskey, and Harry had quickly wrapped one of the Black Family photo albums to reciprocate the gesture, surprised at how sentimental he had become over it. Hermione loved her scarf and gloves, even though Harry couldn’t top priceless gems.
Harry had picked up two books on Runes, one for Theo and one for himself, and Theo had laughed loudly when he suggested that Theo teach Harry, remembering the reason that slowed them down in the first hunt.
"There are four gifts here that I didn't wrap. Who are they from, 'Mione?" Harry asked, curious
"Kreacher… one is for you, Harry… and the other three are for Draco," Hermione said, a laugh escaping her lips.
"What?!" Draco exclaimed, swiftly moving to the wrapped parcels.
Hermione wasn't joking. Kreacher must have spent all night hand-embroidering a small, rather awful picture of himself and Draco, leaving Draco stunned — the first time Harry had ever seen him speechless. As Draco unwrapped the other two, he found homemade fudge and mushroom caps from the night before.
"I'll be sure to thank him on the way out," Draco grimaced.
"We really should be going, though. Narcissa will want Draco home soon, or I'll get the blame," Theo chimed in, preparing to stand up.
"Ah, Draco… I haven't given you my gift yet… although it feels silly now with these," Hermione said, as she touched her earrings.
"You are my gift, Granger," Draco joked, earning a nauseated look from Harry.
"Not yet… nope, not there yet," Harry interjected, while Theo chuckled.
"Here," Hermione pulled out the package Harry had watched her shove into her bag that day at the market. It all made sense now why she had acted so sheepish.
She watched nervously as Draco opened it, and three large books rolled out.
"That book you have in your library, these three come after it," Hermione explained, her smile growing as Draco held the Lord of the Rings trilogy in his hands.
Harry almost laughed; it was such a classic Hermione Granger move to get someone books for Christmas. He figured Draco would graciously accept, like all the times Ron and Harry did, then scoff after about another book they would read or have to read. But Draco didn’t. He looked at the inside of the cover, examining it, an expression of true gratitude washing over his face, one that Harry had never seen before.
It was as if she had just given him a piece of herself for him to keep.
"To your new adventure, HG," Draco read aloud the inscription written inside The Fellowship of the Ring, causing Hermione to blush even more.
"I liked the inscription inside the Hobbit… sorry if this is embarrassing… I didn't think you'd open it here," Hermione stammered.
"No… this is perfect," Draco replied, his smile genuine, a private moment passing between them that Harry felt he and Theo had intruded upon.
Malfoy and Theo left quickly after exchanging goodbyes and thank yous. Harry watched anxiously as Draco pulled Hermione into a deep kiss, a sight that made him feel like ripping his eyes out. It would take a lot of getting used. Hermione had the decency to blush, but there was something about Draco that made her glow.
It was something Harry had never seen with Ron. They had never been intimate in front of him. He had always assumed it was out of respect for their friendship, but watching Draco and Hermione, maybe there was more to it.
Theo smiled widely as he turned to bid Harry farewell, and a part of Harry didn't want him to go. A part of him wanted to kiss Theo the way Draco had kissed Hermione, but it was a crazy thought that gripped him.
Shaking off the notion, Theo walked toward Hermione and Draco, squeezing Harry's hand as he did so.
"Let me know when you want your first lesson on Runes," he said quietly, releasing the pressure between their entwined fingers. Harry felt his entire body heat up.
Fuck, what was this?
The door closed behind Draco and Theo, two sharp thundering cracks echoing through the crisp air, Hermione turned around slowly, a sense of apprehension settling over them like she was about to be scolded by an older brother.
"Yeah… that's the face you should have! Hermione, you lied to me, lied to Ron!" Harry's frustration, held in all day, finally spilled out.
"Harry, I'm so sorry… but I didn't exactly lie. Nothing happened between Draco and me until after Ron and I broke up…..Okay, yes, I had feelings for him while Ron and I were together. But you and I both know Ron, and if I had told him, we'd never be friends again…….Honestly I don't think he'll ever be friends with me again anyway once he knows about Draco… but I will tell him, Harry. I will… when I'm ready," she pleaded quickly.
"You're asking me to lie for you?" Harry asked hesitantly.
"Not exactly… I'm just asking you to not say anything," Hermione replied, her tone desperate.
"Hermione, Ron will take my head off, along with yours, if he finds out I knew," Harry pointed out.
"I know… you weren't supposed to see that. You weren't supposed to find out this way," Hermione admitted
"God, I hope not. I'm going to have the image of Malfoy's dick burned into my brain. It's like a third leg… I don't even understand how… actually, nope, we aren't going there," Harry said, feeling himself retreat from the uncomfortable topic.
"Please… just keep this between us, just for the holidays, and I'll tell Ron when we're back at Hogwarts. It's just been so nice having Draco to myself like this. As soon as Ron finds out, everyone finds out….. Skeeter will jump on it, I'm sure everyone will say awful things. I don't care what they write about me, but I do care about what they write about him. Please, Harry, just give me a little more time,"
"Are you planning on wearing those tonight?" Harry asked, pointing at her gift from Malfoy.
"I was," Hermione said quietly.
"Then I won't need to say a thing to Ron, he'll know," Harry finished.
Ron was going mad; The Burrow was a madhouse, and he was the craziest patient in there, well, between him and his Mum.
All through the holidays, he couldn’t escape the questions about Hermione or Harry, and then Mum would burst into tears randomly. It was a vicious cycle over and over. He really hoped Harry and Hermione were having the time of their lives at Grimmauld Place as he nailed shut his coffin here.
Ginny had been sulky until a mystery package arrived for her this morning that she had run upstairs to open. Luckily, Christmas morning had been significantly better, even fun. George, Percy, Bill, Charlie, Fleur, and little Victoire. Gifts galore; his family had probably overdone it slightly based on last year, but nonetheless, Ron was happy with what he gave and what he got.
Lifting his mood even more was when he got a letter back from Parkinson after he wrote to her. She had stayed behind on Christmas while her sister and mother went to their home in Paris, and she asked if he wanted to come by their place in Wiltshire.
Ron liked spending time with Pansy. He liked spending time with Pansy even more when she was naked and contorted in some position underneath him, but she was sarcastic and funny, and he had told her there were no feelings involved, and he meant that.
He didn’t have feelings for her.
Did he save up all the galleons he made over the break by working the holiday rush at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes to buy her a goblin-made tennis bracelet? Yes, but that didn’t indicate feelings; it indicated a thankfulness to her body. Or that’s what he’d tell her.
He told his parents that he’d be out for the afternoon visiting Dean and Seamus, and he’d be back for dinner when Harry and Hermione arrived, which was a massive lie that Ginny questioned him on. He’d need to figure out a way to get Seamus and Dean in on that lie before Ginny could ask on the way back to Hogwarts.
He'd apparate; the Burrow was too small to throw Floo powder and announce Parkinson Estate aloud, so he’d apparate to the gate, and she’d let him in. He had the small bracelet in a cushioned black box that he wrapped. He wrapped tons of gifts before, so it was nothing special, he told himself as the loud crack echoed in the icy fields surrounding The Burrow.
Ron became even more nervous as he apparated directly in front of a daunting hedge, a towering brick estate behind it. It was massive, reminiscent of Malfoy Manor when they got dragged there by Greyback, but it felt more inviting. The brick was whitewashed, and there were hanging gardens, dead from the winter but no doubt lush in the summer.
Ron made his way to the entrance Pansy instructed him to go to and knocked.
Nothing.
Knocked again.
Nothing.
He figured he'd just go in.
He cracked open the door and found himself standing in a large foyer with a crystal chandelier hanging above. He gulped. What the fuck was he doing here?
“Parkinson?” he called.
“Come up the stairs, the first wing, down the hall, and the last door on the left,” her voice rang out eerily in the empty house, but he followed her instructions. He went up one floor, down the hall all the way to the last door on the left.
“Parkinson, you know it’s Christmas, and most people greet their guests at the door,” he said as he swung open the door to find Pansy standing in intricate bright red lingerie, lace barely covering her tits and the smallest thong he had ever seen.
Her lips were just as red with matching heels and a fire roaring in the hearth.
He barely noticed anything in the room; he stood fucking floored as he took her in.
Fucking hell, he had feelings.
Maybe lust? Maybe not. He wanted her.
“Come to open your present, Weasley?” she smirked
“This is the best present I’ve got all day,” he ran to her and lifted her in his arms, her small frame weightless as she wrapped her legs around his body.
Her lips like Fire Whiskey on his, and her fingernails digging into his scalp the way he loved.
Ron’s hands moved down to the itty-bitty fabric, grabbing the silky material out of the way as he pushed it aside. His hands lingered momentarily, as she continued to moan into his lips. She rolled her head back as he threw her on her bed.
He kissed her deeper, and with his large hands, he grabbed her ass and pulled her body closer toward his, working his other hand in a circular motion over her clit, rough and quick. Hungry.
“Ron...” Pansy moaned softly.
His name sent him ravenous; he moved above her and ripped the remainder of the lacy fabric off her body, and she gave a scream of delight.
He began to kiss down her neck —moving his tongue softly over her nipples, moving closer and closer to her hip bones, down her stomach toward her wet cunt.
Fuck, she was hot; he jerked off almost every night over the break thinking about her tight pussy wrapped around him.
Pansy arched her back into him as he moved closer, his lips falling onto her clit.
Soft, wet kisses at first, then Ron made circular movements with his tongue. He drank her in, like he was crawling in a desert and she was the only source of life. And in this bed, in this moment, she was.
“Fucking hell, Weasley…”
He tasted her becoming wetter, the more his tongue circled her clit, and he felt her pussy throb, clenching and grinding into his face.
“Such a fucking minx,” he groaned as he looked back up at her contorting face. She looked so fucking pretty.
“Ron Weasley… be the hero and fuck me…” she whispered, egging him on with the game they played, wanting him to fill the desperate void inside her
“Turn around…”
He wasn’t even sure what came over him; he had never had sex that way before —sure Hermione had asked for it once but not like this.
Not like the view Pansy was giving him, the way she spread her legs wide, giving him the angle he was desperate for.
He could have come on the spot; she was knelt in front of him, exposed, dripping fucking wet. Like a perfectly packaged present that he wanted to rip the bow off of. He let out an involuntary guttural growl.
He bent her down lower to the sheets and started fingering and rubbing her pussy from behind, his hands feeling every curve of her lower back. His tongue met her clit, and he licked every inch of her while spreading her thighs wider.
“Please… please fuck me… I need you inside me… please Ron…” she begged, and that’s what he needed.
Oh, how he loved it when she fucking begged for him.
He drove into her, all of him at once, and as soon as he entered her, he wasn’t sure how long he was going to last. The angle, the feeling—it was fucking incredible.
He bent down, cupping her breasts, twisting her nipples softly as he thrust into her harder and faster.
“I’m not going to last…” he heard himself cry out as the warmth of her grip around his cock made him feel like he hadn’t known pleasure before - this position it put him over the edge.
“Fuck Parkinson…” He poured into her, pulsing into her walls.
She fell onto the sheets, and he fell on top of her, feeling like a complete and utter fucking moron. Had she cum? He didn’t even know; he was so caught up.
“Fuck.. I’m sorry.. I’ve.. I’ve never done that, it felt.. it felt too fucking good. You feel too fucking good,” he found himself explaining as she breathed loudly, his chest still on her back, feeling her laugh wrap around his cock as he was still inside her.
“It’s alright...” She turned to face him, as he slid out of her.
“We’ll just do it again.. how long do you have before you have to leave?” she asked, eyeing the clock.
“Ahh.. three hours,”
“You have three hours to make me cum then,” she smirked. “You owe me another one of those, you know that right?” she said, pulling the torn fabric of her lingerie.
“You should have known the risks,” he joked, rolling over on his side.
“Oh.. actually,” he moved toward the coat he had thrown on the floor, the first chance he had to look around the room. It was different than he thought; massive hearth, deep reds, mahogany, golds, and everything looked vintage but in a styled way, not in the way his home did.
“I got you this... Happy Christmas,” he said, pulling the black box out of his coat pocket. He felt his heart race as she looked up at him, those big dark eyes, long lashes fluttering.
“You got me a gift?” she asked, surprised.
“Yeah,” he said, passing it to her.
“Weasley.. I said no strings,” she said hesitantly as she began to unwrap.
“Does that mean we aren’t friends? I get my friends gifts, don’t you?”
She smirked and opened the box; her eyes widened, and she looked happy for a moment, then another face, like a shock.
“A tennis bracelet?” she asked, holding it up, the diamonds glittering in the light.
“Do you like it?” he asked tentatively, feeling like a total fucking ass, looking around her room. Pansy Parkinson had everything; she had family heirloom jewelry. She had every expensive item on the market, and he was sure her sheets alone cost more than all his clothing combined. Why would she like a few hundred galleon tennis bracelet? It was stupid.
“Why did you get me this?” she asked again, and Ron felt a heat rise in him. He had planned for this question.
“A thank you? I don’t know.. I saw it, and it reminded me of you.. and I hoped you’d like it,” he stammered, absolutely butchering the smooth line about her naked body he had planned.
He had never bought jewelry for a woman in his life; Hermione wasn’t the type, she liked books, and that’s usually what he went with.
But Pansy, Pansy was a woman who looked good in diamonds, looked good in those expensive things he knew he couldn’t afford. Which was why he felt the burning embarrassment of this stupid bloody gift.
“Weasley.. I love it,” she looked back, her eyes full of watering sparkle.
Pansy showed her love for it, over and over and over again.
They shagged for almost two hours until the line ran dry and his body was physically sore from it, and she still climbed on top of him, rubbing herself on his broken shaft.
He was almost glad to be out of there; when the time came, he was sure he’d need some type of numbing cream from the pain he was feeling.
He had never fucked like that in his life, and he wasn’t at all complaining; he was mesmerized but in pain.
He felt guilty leaving her there on Christmas night; she was standing, wrapped in a small slip dress as he was saying his goodbyes and a crazy fucking thought took him.
“You could come with me? For Christmas dinner, I feel awful just leaving you like this,”
“I’m going over to Theo’s. Draco and Daphne will be there, and I think Zabini just got back today so I won’t be alone, Weasley.” She said as she clasped the bracelet he got her on her wrist.
Chapter 29: 1999
Chapter Text
Ginny was upstairs, re-reading the note that Blaise had sent her, along with a bottle of Italian red and twelve naughty little nighties that she had mentioned wanting. The twelfth one did seem like an attempt to outdo Draco though. Blaise had given her a small box, inside a necklace; the end of the stunning chain was a golden pendant depicting Venus, the tiny bronze goddess gracefully swaying like the living artwork.
Reading his penmanship was like taking the first breath of fresh air since coming home. They hadn't had much contact since leaving Hogwarts due to his busy schedule with his family at their vineyard outside Bolzano.
He was exciting and spontaneous, and he was completely hers, something she didn’t have to share. She hated how much she was falling for him, and loved their secret romance. But how much longer could she keep him a secret, was she ready to be public?
The sound of her mother undoubtedly swooning over the arrival of Harry and Hermione snapped her back to reality; she should head downstairs. Ron should be back soon; it was mad that he had gone to see Dean and Seamus. It was definitely a lie, but Ginny didn’t know what it was covering up.
She was worried it had something to do with Hermione. She had found a small black box with a diamond tennis bracelet inside his bag one day as he brought home items from Diagon Alley. She was so sure that he was going to try to give it to Hermione for Christmas to try and make up with her.
He had been moody and grumpy since being home. The strain of just having the two of them there alone with their mum and dad was a lot. When Bill, Fleur, Victoire, Charlie, George, and Percy arrived, it was a much-needed relief. Now that Hermione and Harry were here, the tension could ease off even more, but undoubtedly her parents would pry more into the downfall of their respective relationships.
Ginny hurried down the winding steps toward the smell of her mum’s cooking. As she rounded the corner, she saw Hermione and Harry being pulled into about a dozen different embraces. She smiled at both of them, noticing the massive glittering emeralds that Hermione's hair was trying to cover.
“Gin, dear... Did you see Harry brought you something?” Molly said as Ginny entered the room.
“I brought everyone something,” Harry tried to politely correct her mother, who was obviously trying to begin their reconciliation now.
“Happy Christmas, Harry,” Ginny smiled back at him, though she couldn't muster the same warmth she used to feel.
“Mione!” she shouted as Hermione pulled her into a big hug, and Ginny whispered quickly before anyone else could hear, “Malfoy?” as she lightly touched her ears. The widened eyes were all the assurance Ginny needed as they moved to the table.
“Where’s Ron?” Harry asked, looking around the room. Ginny was surprised he hadn’t returned yet.
“He said he was meeting up with Seamus and Dean,” she replied.
“Probably drinking away his sorrows for letting this one go, eh Hermione?” George said, grabbing Hermione in a shoulder hug. Despite the awkward jab, she rolled her eyes and kissed his cheek.
“Only if you’ll have me instead,” she joked, and George gave a whoop.
“If it wasn’t for Angelina, you’d be next on my list,” he winked back and held out the chair for her.
Christ, Ginny thought, Fred was the flirt, but George was just as bad. The interaction made her heart ache for her lost brother.
Hermione sat down beside Percy and Charlie, Harry sat between Arthur and George, and Ginny sat between Fleur and Molly as they heard the echoing crack in the yard as Ron bustled in, his hair spiky in places, his face flushed, and slightly sweating, with a red mark on his neck, like paint?
“I’m so sorry I’m late, my watch must be behind! Harry! How are you?” Ron roared, moving over toward the table quickly in a seemingly fantastic mood, walking a little strangely, Ginny noted.
“It’s great to see you finally showed up! You were with Seamus and Dean?” Harry questioned as he moved over to let Ron sit by him.
“Ah, yeah,” Ron said quickly, glancing down toward Hermione, who Ginny noticed put her eyes down.
“Happy Christmas, Hermione,” Ron said a little stiffly, but it was progress.
“Happy Christmas, Ron,” she smiled back lightly.
“What's with your hair?” Ginny asked with a judgmental frown.
“It looks like it always does, Gin, absolutely terrible,” George quipped, and their mum swatted at his reaching hand.
Dinner was served quickly at the Burrow and unfolded in a riot of laughter, conversation, and the clinking of cutlery against plates. Of course, Mum prepared a feast that surpassed any she had experienced at Hogwarts. The long table groaned under the weight of it – piles of whipped garlic potatoes, a succulent chuck roast smothered with demi-glace gravy, and a colorful array of variegated garden carrots and green beans.
Her brothers exchanged fast-paced conversations, competing for attention in every corner of the room, voices rising and falling.
“Tell me more about this Unity Project, it’s causing quite the stir at the Ministry,” Arthur asked the table.
“Father, the only people who think it’s causing a stir are those who don’t see the vision and brilliance behind it all. It will unify future generations to see beyond the sorting or bloodlines, houses, purity—all that nonsense that caused this to begin with,” Percy interrupted.
“And who are you quoting? McGonagall or Kingsley?” George joked.
“It wasn’t nonsense that caused the war, Percy. It was one man who took years of ingrained bigotry and weaponized it,” Arthur said back.
“Exactly, and the Unity Project aims to prevent any further bigotry from festering,” Percy continued in his usually haughty tone.
Ginny stifled a small laugh. It had unified her and Blaise in many different ways—cowgirl, doggy, reverse cowgirl, legs up, legs down, the little dipper. Thoughts she shouldn’t be having at the Christmas dinner table with her family.
“Let’s ask the kids then? Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny?” Arthur continued.
“Ah, well, my partner is Theodore Nott," Harry replied, gulping potatoes.
"Theodore Nott? Interesting. His father was an awful man, a big manipulator. It took the Ministry years to see it. What do you think of the partnership?" Arthur continued, prompting Ginny to notice Harry's flushed face.
"He's kind of a sarcastic ass most of the time, pardon my language, Mrs. Weasley," Harry began. "But he's smart, very clever actually. Most of the tasks, he's carried the weight of figuring them out before me. He's told me about his father. He never had much of a chance, I guess, being raised in a home like that. I... um... I like having him as my partner," Harry finished strongly.
Ginny's eyebrows narrowed. She had never heard Harry talk about Theo that way. They hadn’t talked about Theo at all. But there was admiration in his tone, respect.
"See father, and Nott isn’t even the worst of them,” Percy remarked.
“Wasn’t Theodore Nott accused of killing ten people?” Bill's inquiry caught everyone off guard, prompting Ginny, Harry, Hermione, and Ron to pause their conversation and turn their attention to him. This detail had never been discussed with them before.
“That’s confidential Ministry information, as is the reason for his release,” Percy interjected sharply, his tone brooking no further questions. Nonetheless, all four of them exchanged puzzled glances.
“Then who is the worst?” Ginny's curiosity was piqued. She thought Harry had told her every detail of all the accused Death Eater's trials, but apparently, there were things the Ministry had kept from even him.
“Draco Malfoy,” Percy said with a huff, giving Hermione a sideways glance, knowing they were partners.
“And who iz hiz partner?” Fleur asked, bouncing Victoire on her leg.
“Hermione,” Ron shot coldly across the table and the entire table seemed to tense.
“I’m sure our girl can handle herself,” George rounded in her defense before Hermione could say anything back.
“And Ron? Who did you get again? I remember reading about Harry and Hermione in The Prophet, but I don’t recall yours,” Charlie interjected quickly, attempting to diffuse the tension Ron had created.
“Pansy Parkinson,” Ron said, his voice catching in an odd choke.
“Ah, yes, the majestic Serpent Queen herself," Ginny quipped, her tone laced with a hint of sarcasm. Thinking back to Pansy strutting down the corridors with Malfoy, Nott, and Zabini flanking her side, like she's leading her private parade.
“Or the bicycle of Slytherin,” George chuckled lightly.
“The bicycle?” Charlie questioned.
“Sorry Mum, cover your ears… Meaning she’s let them all take a ride, I heard she’s been with Nott, Malfoy, Warrington, Pucey, Flint..” George continued, laughing.
“Don’t talk about her like that!” Ron shot back fiercely his voice raised, wiping the smile off George's face, and causing Ginny to nearly drop her fork.
"Parkinson got me through that corridor. You remember which one, don't you George, Perce? You don't know her, so don’t talk about her" Ron defended his voice hardened. The room fell into a heavy silence.
Percy and George were both aware of which corridor Fred died in. Ginny knew they were both there when it happened. Harry coughed lightly, drawing attention, while Hermione absentmindedly picked at her plate. Her dad glanced back at them all, perhaps sensing the grief of the memory.
"I have Blaise Zabini," Ginny blurted out, not entirely certain why she said it, but desperate to fill the air as she watched tears being fought back in her mother’s eyes.
"I like him. We make a great team, and working with him has changed my perspective on some of the people we used to judge so quickly. I'm with Percy on this one—I think the Unity Project is actually making a difference. Before I got paired up with Zabini, I thought he was just a coward who couldn't pick a side. But going through what we have together made me realize it's more complicated than that. We all did what we thought was right to be here today and for the people we love,” Ginny finished confidently, waiting for someone to jump on the attack but nobody did. She shot a glance over at Hermione, who was grinning back at her.
"I've never been prouder of you, Gin," Arthur said warmly.
"Gifts? What about gifts? Harry and Hermione haven't opened theirs," Molly finally interjected, shifting the mood. Clapping her hands, she ushered them all from the table toward the living room.
Ginny felt a moment of relief—she had spoken about Blaise out loud, to her family, and they hadn't scolded her. But would they still feel the same way knowing the depth of what her words actually meant?
Following everyone into the living room, Ginny and Harry exchanged awkward gifts. He had gotten her a Holyhead Harpies lookbook, a familiar gesture, along with her favorite fudge. She had given him the newest Seeker gloves on the market. Oh, the flame between them, she chuckled inwardly as her mum gushed over their very non-romantic gifts.
But the most awkward part was Hermione and Ron's strange dance, trying to talk at the same time and then abruptly pivoting to something else. At least Ron wasn't being rude, which was a relief. When Hermione passed Ron his gifts, he opened the box of chocolate frogs and a brand-new Keeper helmet, much needed.
"Oh, 'Mione, thank you... I really needed that, mine's currently cracked!" Ron finally smiled in her direction.
"I know, I thought it was time for a replacement," she smiled back.
Progress, Ginny thought, although she knew it would all come crashing down once Ron found out about Draco.
Then Ron pulled out a smallish black box, and Ginny cringed. She knew what was in it—the diamond tennis bracelet. Oh, here we go again.
But Hermione unwrapped it and pulled out three long silver bookmarks?
"What the fuck?" Ginny thought, shooting a questioning look at her brother.
"They're bookmarks. If you put them in a book and close it, when you're ready to pick it up again, it'll levitate over and open to the page you left off on," Ron explained casually as if it were the best gift ever. For a friend, it kind of was. What happened to the tennis bracelet? Maybe he came to his senses and returned it.
Thankfully, the rest of the evening felt normal, or as normal as it could be. Ginny could see the heartbreak in her mother's eyes every now and then as she looked longingly toward where Ginny, Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat. Harry and Ginny didn't speak much, nor did Ron and Hermione, but they were trying their best to patch up the mess they had made by rushing into their relationships after the war.
When Harry and Hermione said goodbye and Flooed back to London, when all her brothers, Fleur, and her niece had gone. When her mum and dad had gone to bed, and when Ron wished her goodnight and limped upstairs for some reason. Ginny sat for a long time in the living room of the Burrow, watching the fire burn out while taking in her surroundings.
She remembered the little girl who had grown up in this room, cried in this room, laughed in this room; the girl who had lived and died for her family, for Harry. She pulled out the necklace Blaise had given her, rubbing the small carved Venus pendant with her thumb. It felt like she was introducing her past self to her new self, and she felt ready to bridge the gap.
She wasn’t going to hide Blaise anymore.
Draco couldn't help but feel like the world's most whipped bloke. The old Draco would've probably thrown verbal grenades and maybe even a few physical ones at his current self. Hermione Granger had him wrapped tighter than a Christmas present, and he was shamelessly reveling in it.
He'd bend over backward for her, no questions asked. It didn't matter what she demanded; he'd be there in a heartbeat. And that's saying something, considering he'd done some pretty fucked up shit in the past for far less noble reasons.
The books she got him for Christmas still sat on his bedside table. He knew she would have wanted him to bring them to his library to add to the collection, but he couldn’t part with them yet.
She had remembered, pulling out the only Muggle book he owned and then adding to it, marking her own little spot in his home, whether or not that was her intention.
It was New Year's Eve, and he was going over to Theo's. He had Owl'd Hermione a few times since Christmas, not wanting to seem too desperate to know how dinner at The Burrow went. But he was certain that if he got any indication that Weasley was a jerk toward her, he'd apparate directly there and kick the living shit out of him, all in the name of Christmas spirit. And if he tried to get too close to her again, he'd do the same.
Regardless, he was anticipating hearing what had happened. But she didn’t give any information other than it had gone well, and she and Harry were planning on seeing a movie on New Year's Eve and staying in. He didn’t mind that, knowing she was just with Potter.
However, she had also been very quiet about what Potter had said to her after they left Christmas morning. Did he approve? Was he slowly trying to persuade her to come to her senses?
He didn’t care if Potter approved, but he would care if he was trying to dismantle everything Draco had worked for and would continue to work for. He didn’t need a reminder that he was the luckiest man on the planet who was overreaching and didn’t deserve Granger. He woke up every damn day knowing that, but now that he had her, she wasn’t going anywhere.
“Draco... darling, do you have plans this evening?” his mother's voice chilled him as Draco moved to put two of the books Hermione had given him beside The Hobbit in his library.
Keeping The Fellowship on his nightstand as he was making his way through it.
He thought it was quite good, some of the wording and the backstory nuanced, but he thought the characters were beautifully written, the world an escape from his own.
Good versus evil, always seemed so easy when it was written down. Draco knew better, though.
“Yes, Mother, I’ll be going over to Theodore’s,” Draco said, putting his book on the shelf.
“Will Ms. Granger be there?” she asked quickly.
Fuck, she had asked about Granger twice now, tonight and after he got home from Christmas, and he wasn’t willing to share with his mother yet.
“No, Mother, it will be Parkinson, Zabini, and maybe Greengrass,”
“Greengrass? Her mother told me that she’s currently looking to court both her daughters. Should I tell her that my son is already courting another?” Narcissa asked like it was the simplest question in the world.
“Ask what you want to ask, Mother,” Draco insisted.
“You made a large withdrawal at Gringotts — the Gems of Endor. To my surprise and without my knowledge, those are priceless and very powerful. Do you know where they are?” she asked delicately.
“On Hermione Granger's neck and her ears, and they are mine to give to whom I want,” Draco said back coolly, feeling his patience coming to an end.
“Those are courting jewels; does she know this?” His mother was always spectacular at keeping a calm demeanor even in the most high-tension atmospheres, a trait he always envied.
“Not exactly,” Draco responded.
It was the truth. Hermione was quite drunk when he gave them to her, and she, of course, in Granger fashion, said they were too much and couldn’t accept, but he didn’t take no for an answer as he clasped them around her neck. She looked stunning wearing them completely naked, bouncing on top of him, like the golden angel she was, having his ancestral jewelry hanging off her olive skin.
All his.
“Not exactly? What are your intentions with Ms. Granger then?” Narcissa pushed again.
“My intentions are my own, and that’s the last I’ll talk about it for now... do you have a problem with it?” he said back sharply.
“No, but I will say I’ll have to let your father know about your mishandling of our fortune.”
“It’s not being mishandled, Mother. I have every intention of keeping those jewels in the family,” Draco shot back, and he wasn’t lying. Narcissa looked stunned for a moment, her pale face even more pale, her eyes dark.
“You can tell father that if you’d like?” He just smiled at her, watching her face trying to discern the emotions on it. When he realized he had The Hobbit in his hand, and opened it to the inscription inside.
“Whose A?” he handed his mother the copy, unsure of why. His mother looked like she had seen a ghost when he handed her the book, her hands trembling slightly.
“My sister,” she said in a small voice. “Andromeda gave me this my first year at Hogwarts. I read it three times, I loved it. Then Bellatrix called me a muggle lover once when she caught me with it. And I never picked it up again.”
“But you kept it,”
“Because it’s the only piece of Andromeda I have, a piece of the girl I was, the way she saw me then, the way I wish she could still see me, but there has been too much hate to try to make amends,” His mother said giving back the book, her eyes betraying the emotionless stoic face she had on.
Draco stood, not knowing what to say, what to do to comfort her.
His mother turned toward the doorway of the library, before exiting she lingered, her fingers delicately wrapped around the trim of the entrance.
“Ms. Granger is a fine choice, Draco. If that’s what you wish”
Draco was never so thankful to shoot a glass of Fire Whiskey as he was when he arrived at Theo’s that night. Zabini was already there, telling tales of the two weeks spent on his vineyard and how difficult it had been for him to be surrounded by all that sun and wine. Prick. Parkinson showed up slightly after.
“Do we have any resolutions this year, friends?” Theo said, uncorking a bottle of champagne.
“Why would we have resolutions when we are already perfect?” Pansy joked.
“You know, if you asked me four months ago, I might have had some,” Blaise laughed.
“Malfoy?” Theo asked.
“If I did have resolutions, I wouldn’t share them with any of you,” he replied quickly.
“Where’s Greengrass?” Zabini asked.
“She’s not coming,” Pansy huffed.
“How come it feels like she’s been avoiding us for months? I’ve barely seen her, and she never hangs out with us when I invite her,” Theo asked.
“It’s not really my place to say,” Pansy said back.
“What do you mean?” Draco asked.
“Oh, come on, you honestly don’t know?!” Pansy said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
“No,” Draco said, looking at Zabini and Theo for help.
“You... This summer, you slept with her when you know she’s liked you for years, then she walks in not even two days later to you having a threesome with two random Muggles?” Pansy said offhand.
“I didn’t know she was upset about that. We were fine the rest of the summer, weren’t we?” Draco shot back in defense; it had been a one-night stand. Nothing more, he had never told Daphne he had any intentions beyond that.
“You were fine the rest of the summer, and she just put on a brave face. But between Theo taking her virginity then announcing he was gay, and you fucking her over, she’s made friends with Longbottom and Lovegood and said that she’d rather hang out with them than you two,” Pansy finished dully.
“What?!” Theo said quickly.
“I didn’t lead her on, you know that, right? It was a one-night shag,” Draco said defensively — honestly taken aback. This was his first time hearing it.
“Oh, of course, Draco, nothing is your fault. Just treat women like disposal garbage and I’m sure it will work out fine” Pansy rolled her eyes.
“I don’t treat women like garbage,” he shot back.
“He doesn’t treat Granger like garbage. Has he told you what he got her for Christmas?” Theo interrupted, and Draco couldn’t tell if he was stirring the pot more or trying to come to his defense.
“A framed photo of the dragon?” Zabini laughed
“The Gems of Endor,” Theo said, and both Zabini and Parkinson nearly fell out of their chairs.
Fucking hell.
“Are you joking?” Parkinson asked; her eyes huge.
“No, they are mine to give to whomever I want to give them to. I don’t understand this obsession over them,”
“They’re courting jewels,” Parkinson said in disbelief.
“You sound like my mother,” Draco said back in a grimace.
“Aren’t they extremely powerful? Said to have been charmed by the Witch of Endor, giving protection to the wearer?” Zabini asked.
“Yes, they are said to have protection spells woven into them,” Draco said back coolly, casually. Like he didn’t already know, and that it wasn’t a massive reason he chose to give them to the woman who followed around the boy who had a target on his back his entire life.
“Did you mention to her that nifty tracking feature?” Theo said with a shitty grin.
He could have killed him. He hadn’t told her that the wearer of the jewels would also be trackable to the Malfoy signet ring he wore. A small detail he didn’t think he had to share.
“You’re tracking her? Good gods, Draco, I had almost forgotten how possessive you become when you like or want something,” Parkinson said chugging back her glass of champagne.
“Not so fast, Parkinson. What’s that?” Theo pointed to a diamond tennis bracelet clasped around her wrist, which had gone unnoticed until it hit the light as she drank.
“It was a gift,” she said in her haughty tone.
“From who?” Theo pressed.
“Weasley,” she said confidently.
“Ron Weasley?” Draco spat.
“Yes, that Weasley,” Pansy said annoyed, and Draco was floored. It was a nice bracelet, goblin wrought. Maybe he didn’t have to worry about the Weasel still pining for Granger after all.
“I thought it was just shagging,” Zabini asked.
“It is,”
“Yet he brought you a diamond bracelet? Seems like the Weasel has caught feelings,”
“He’s just thankful, I’m sure, for the sex, and for me carrying our team on my back. Plus, I’ve never had a man buy jewelry for me before. It’s nice,” Pansy said with a small smile, eyeing her wrist.
“Didn’t I buy you jewelry?” Draco tried to think back. It seemed like something he would have done.
“No, you bought me that expensive perfume I like, clothes, bags... never jewelry. You never wanted to get my hopes up that much,” Pansy said in a sarcastic tone, but he knew she wasn’t actually angry.
Unlike Daphne, he knew that Pansy hadn't harbored any resentment over their ending. Pansy and Draco had actually dated. He felt a twinge of annoyance about the whole Greengrass affair. He didn't view his treatment of her as dismissive or disrespectful. In his mind, she should have understood the nature of their encounter that night—purely physical. If she desired something more, she should have communicated it openly, and perhaps he wouldn't have taken her to bed.
Or maybe he still would have, summer Draco was a horny slag.
“The Weasel likes you, Parkinson. Stay vigilant,” Theo said in a mocking tone, and Pansy smirked and rolled her eyes, but something in her smirk said that she might not be truthful about the no-feelings part. To which, again, if Weasley was out of the way completely, he’d prefer that, so he wanted Pansy to keep shagging him.
“When is everyone’s next assigned hunts, anyway?” Zabini said, looking over at the magicked calendar that Theo had hung in the bar off the drawing room in his estate, counting down the days until their return to Hogwarts.
“Next Sunday, Potter and I taking another crack at the top five, I’ve promised to teach him a few things” Theo smirked, like he was having his own inside joke with himself.
“Saturday,” Draco answered, and he had almost forgotten he and Hermione would need to go on the third hunt, wondering how now that their dynamic had changed, would it affect the outcome.
“Friday for me,” Parkinson added.
“Ginevra and I are Wednesday... we only have two hunts from the final... everyone still adamant that your partner will let you use that chalice?” Zabini smirked into his glass.
Draco hadn’t thought about that in almost a month. He still wanted that Chalice. He had a very strong feeling Hermione would want it for her parents, and that ate at him.
She would want to use it selflessly, and he would want to use it selfishly for her sake, or that’s what he told himself.
“I know what Weasley will want to use it for, and I think he knows what I’d want to use it for, but we haven’t brought up that topic since we might not even place...” Pansy said, her mood shifting.
“Zabini, what about you? Since you’re asking all these questions trying to ruin the cheery mood,” Theo shot back.
“We’ll see when the time comes, like Parkinson said... we might not even place” Zabini winked back, clearly holding back what he actually wanted to say.
The next time Draco had glanced over at that calendar, it was 1999.
Chapter 30: The Family Jewels
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
"Harry, hurry! Our Floo slot is in four minutes!" Hermione yelled as she heard Harry scrambling down the staircase, his trunk behind him. The holiday break was over, and they were headed back to Hogwarts.
Hermione remembered the dread she felt when they left The Burrow this summer and were headed back to the castle, the way the walls had felt suffocating, and how she couldn’t sleep without Ron the first few weeks of school, this time felt so different. She was braver now, the castle still held ghosts and memories, but she felt them easing.
This year, with her tangled feelings for Draco and Ron, and the Unity Project that forced them to confront everything they had been repressing, it had been a relief from the significant pain the castle had inflicted on her in the past.
There was still a part of her terrified about what her relationship with Draco meant—for herself, for him, for the inevitable backlash they would receive. She didn’t give a damn what Skeeter wrote about her, but she felt a need to protect him. When Ron and he had fought, somehow, their argument had been twisted into tales of cruelty and dark magic on Draco's behalf. She didn’t want that kind of headline following him around.
They’d find a way to villainize him and make a victim of her, and that wasn’t her story anymore, or his.
“Hermione, are you going to talk to Ron?” Harry asked as he bustled beside her toward the fireplace. He had only asked her about Draco one other time, and this was the first time he had brought up speaking with Ron since Christmas, yet she knew eventually he would. She had asked him to lie for her.
She had been mortified when Harry found her and Draco Christmas morning, feeling like it topped Narcissa walking in on them in the library tenfold. Sometimes she found it hard to even look Harry in the eye, but she hoped that would pass.
“I will, I need some time to navigate this back at school,” she answered honestly. She did need time to plan before openly telling everyone about Draco. Plus, she wasn’t even sure if they were dating. It sounded so silly to think about, dating. He had never asked her, and while he made his intentions clear, they hadn’t drawn a line—or maybe she hadn’t let him.
“You should figure out something quick. The way Malfoy acts around you... he has no issues with letting people know that he wants you... or is with you... or whatever it is,” Harry said back, cringing slightly.
“I appreciate you letting me do this on my own time, Harry. I understand it’s not fun keeping this from Ron, but I promise it is better if you let him find out from me,” Hermione responded sharply.
“Well, let’s just hope he does find out from you, and not Malfoy or Nott,” Harry said back darkly. As if Hermione didn’t already have that fear. But Ginny knew, which meant it was likely Zabini knew, Nott knew, and now so did Harry. There were a lot of flaws in this plan of hers, or lack of plan.
“The Three Broomsticks” Harry roared and the green flames took them.
Harry and Hermione were horrified by the mountains of snow covering Hogsmeade when they finally arrived at the Three Broomsticks. It would be a miserable trek back up to the castle, and it was the only time she regretted not taking the train so they could take the carriages.
Luckily, they could levitate their trunks, but they were walking directly into howling gales and blowing snow that made the conditions almost a whiteout. They felt like they were yelling over each other as they trudged through the gates.
Hermione never thought she would feel a rush of excitement at the sight of Filch opening the door. But she did, as the warmth of the castle was like jumping into a scalding hot pot of water after being entirely frostbitten.
"Bloody hell," Harry roared as he shook off the matted snow from their hats and boots.
"I'll be freezing for the rest of the night," she shivered as they moved toward the stairway to their common room. She felt the chill deep in her bones, and her nose was running.
What a great start, she thought as the two of them burst through the doors to the Common Room. The hearths were roaring, and it looked as if there were only a few students back.
Ginny and Ron should be there soon, and she wanted to catch up with Ginny privately, as she hadn't had the chance to talk to her at Christmas. Hermione unpacked, threw on two jumpers, grabbed her book, and made her way down to the couches. She wanted to sit and wait with Harry.
Her mind kept slipping, wondering if Draco was back yet. She contemplated knocking on his door, but with so many people around, she decided against it. Perhaps she'd catch him coming in instead?
She felt like such a girl. She had always rolled her eyes at Parvati and Lavender when they were giggling and talking about how to approach boys they liked, but now she could have been right there with them. It was a strange notion, this flutter of anticipation mixed with nerves.
"Fucking hell, it’s a wasteland out there," Hermione heard Ron's voice boom as the Common Room door swung open, followed by Ginny trailing behind. They both shook off the snow that clung to them, while Harry and Hermione stood by the fire, enveloped in warming charms.
“You two walked up as well?” Harry laughed.
“I wouldn’t call that walking, it was a death march,” Ron joked. “Good to see ya though, Harry, ‘Mione,” Ron said with a smile.
It was a good thing; they hadn’t spoken much at Christmas, but she felt like it was progress. They hadn’t addressed the roots of their problems, and she knew to grow and move on, they needed to. But this was a start. She was happy with a start.
Ron had thrown his trunk in his room and stood for a total of ten minutes before complaining he was starving. He convinced Harry to go down to the kitchens with him to score some food from the elves. Ginny and Hermione rolled their eyes, but she was secretly happy they were getting rid of both of them so they could talk alone. The Common Room was filling up with students arriving back from holiday. The train had clearly arrived as more students came back without mounds of snow on them.
“So… those earrings… Malfoy? What happened? Did he Owl them on Christmas morning?” Ginny asked once the coast was clear.
A few little trios were sitting around them—Greengrass, Luna, and Neville sat a few clusters of chairs behind, while Terry, Justin, and Ernie were over by the window, all far enough away not to hear.
Hermione dove in, telling Ginny about Harry inviting Theo for Christmas Eve, how Draco had tagged along, about Kreacher’s weird obsession, the margaritas, Vanilla Ice, and then how she and Draco had snuck off, and he gave her the jewelry.
She barely remembered it; she just remembered waking up with them hanging off her and the look of disgust in Harry’s eyes. But she loved how they glittered, how they looked against her skin.
It was a gift that was too much; she had told Draco that. That they were too extravagant. But he just refused to listen.
She had the earrings on, and the necklace was tucked into her jumper, her bushy hair hiding most of the emeralds, unless she moved the right way and the light hit them. She had never been one for flashy, but something about wearing these gems made her feel like Draco’s touch was permanently on her skin.
“Harry saw Malfoy’s dick?” Ginny gasped, trying to collect herself from laughing
“Gin, it was horrible. Theo stood there smirking, and Harry looked like he was going to hurl,” Hermione said, trying not to laugh herself. It really had been utterly ridiculous.
“He’s not going to tell Ron, is he? After Christmas, he actually seemed to be in a better mood,” Ginny asked quietly.
“He said he’d let me tell him, but I’m not all that sure he loved that idea. He wants me to tell him sooner rather than later,” Hermione admitted.
“Give yourself time to figure it out. Don’t jump to it before you even know what you and Malfoy are. Who knows, maybe it will be a few shags and he’ll be out of your system,” Ginny smirked.
"Like Zabini is yours," Hermione countered.
She knew she was tangled up in Draco far beyond mere physical attraction. The ache of his absence devoured her, every moment away from him felt like an eternity. His voice, his scent, his very presence filling her, a void she hadn't even realized existed until he wasn’t around.
Hermione's attention was abruptly diverted by the sight of short black hair, a posh snobby nose, and the unmistakable sound of Mary Janes on the hardwood floor. Pansy Parkinson had just entered the common room, shutting the door to her dorm behind her with a sense of entitlement that just seemed to be natural to her.
Before Ginny could retort, Hermione's gaze was fixed on Pansy. If Pansy was back, did that mean Draco was too? Her eyes darted to his closed door again.
Pansy began to walk past, she made eye contact with Daphne behind Hermione and offered a small smile and wave. Just as Hermione and Ginny subtly shifted their conversation to ensure Pansy couldn't overhear, she halted behind the couch where Hermione was lounging.
"Granger, I never thought I’d see the day you’d be wearing green, let alone emeralds of that stature." Pansy sneered at Hermione; her eyes fixated on the glimmering emeralds peeking out from behind her curls.
"They were a Christmas present," she retorted, unwilling to play whatever game Pansy was.
Did Pansy know? It seemed possible, though Hermione couldn't imagine Draco divulging such information to her. They were friends, for reasons that escaped Hermione. While Pansy lacked any redeeming qualities in Hermione's eyes, she evidently had some appeal to the Slytherin boys.
"Very extravagant Christmas present; you must have generous friends. Do you mind if I look?" Pansy smiled back, but her expression was as cold as ever. Pansy reached out her long, skinny arm toward Hermione's ears, her red fingernails brushing a curl gently to the side. But just as her hand neared, Ginny's arm shot out like a Seeker's, clasping Pansy’s wrist where a diamond tennis bracelet hung.
“Parkinson, this is nice... where’d you get it?” Ginny's tone carried an odd edge that caught Hermione off guard.
Pansy snatched back her arm —Ginny releasing her grip.
“That’s none of your business, Weasley,” Pansy spat, pushing down the sleeve of her shirt.
“But it’s your business to know about Hermione's?” Ginny said narrowing her eyes.
Was Ginny trying to stop Pansy from prying? If she was there was a tension in the air that Hermione couldn't ignore.
“I guess not… They’re pretty, Granger…” Pansy snapped, though her tone lacked its usual nastiness. “Be sure not to lose them,” she added haughtily before giving Ginny one last side-eye and walking toward Daphne.
Hermione felt a knot tighten in her stomach. She didn’t trust Pansy; she didn’t like the insinuations she seemed to be making.
“What was that about? Do you think she knows something?” Hermione asked Ginny quickly as Pansy settled beside Greengrass.
“I’m honestly not sure of anything anymore,” Ginny replied, her eyes still on Pansy, her expression one of shock.
The common room door rolled open once more, and the familiar laughter of Theodore and the distinct scents of leather, sandalwood, and other expensive colognes filled the air.
Zabini, Nott, and Malfoy strolled in, seemingly untouched by the winter weather. Hermione felt a sudden jolt in her chest as Draco's grey eyes locked with hers, accompanied by a playful grin.
“Actually, 'Mione... I am sure about one thing,” Ginny said abruptly, rising to her feet in one swift motion.
“Zabini!” Ginny's voice cut through the murmurs in the room, drawing the attention of a few heads.
Hermione watched with a sense of impending doom as Ginny strode toward Blaise.
His expression shifted from surprise to confusion as Ginny approached, her fiery red hair cascading behind her. With a decisive movement, she looped her hand around the back of his neck and pulled him into a deep, lingering kiss. Hermione felt a collective gasp ripple through the room, her own shock mirrored by the stunned expressions around her.
Draco and Theo wore smug grins, clearly entertained. Blaise responded to Ginny by lifting her slightly in his arms before she broke away.
The entire common room fell into stunned silence, Ginny whispered something into his ear. The room seemed to hold its breath as Blaise's smile widened, and he cleared his throat.
"If anyone has a bloody problem with this, they can fuck off," Zabini yelled with a smile, and Draco chuckled. Hermione remained seated, stunned. Ginny had given her no warning.
"Alright, alright... fantastic speech, really well crafted," Theo added sarcastically, clapping his hands together into the tense atmosphere filling the room.
Without hesitation, Zabini took Ginny’s hand, and they hurried up the spiral steps, his trunk following closely behind.
What the fuck was that?
Ginny had seized control of the situation shamelessly, a level of no fucks given that Hermione couldn't help but admire.
Theo and Draco retreated to their rooms, and reality began to sink in. Hermione realized she had to keep her own feelings for Draco hidden a little while longer. The impending rage from Ron and Harry, once they inevitably found out about that very public display, was enough to make her abandon any thoughts of following suit. Ron and Harry could only handle one issue at a time.
She felt as though all eyes were on her now that Ginny and Blaise had walked away, expecting some kind of reaction from Harry Potter's best friend and Ron Weasley's ex-girlfriend. But she didn’t really know what she was supposed to feel. Closing her book, she made her way up to her dorm room.
Throughout the evening, she waited anxiously, expecting to hear the sounds of yelling or fighting in the common room below. But it never came. Either nobody had told Ron and Harry yet, or they didn’t care. Hermione suspected the former, as she set her book down and stretched her legs.
Sitting in her anxiety all evening had worn her down, and she had reached a breaking point. She needed to see him. Surprisingly, she made up her mind quickly, despite promising herself she would be careful this time. Harry had caught them once and had almost caught them twice before the holidays, knocking on her door when Draco was between her sheets.
Draco had always come to her dorm room, as it was easier to explain in case anyone saw him walking down the stairs. Both Zabini and Nott were on her floor. But tonight, for some reason, she didn’t care about the risks. He was her late-night craving, and she would indulge.
She knocked quickly but slipped in before he could open it. His room was warm, the only light came from the roaring fire. Draco sat on his bed, shirtless, his scars from Sectumsempra ragged over his chest. He was wearing those grey muggle sweats she liked as he eyed her, a smile growing as he realized it was her who had snuck into his room.
“Granger... this is a surprise,” he said, setting his book down.
“I wanted to see you,” she smiled and moved toward his bed
“Why is that? Miss me?” he teased as he shifted over, making room for her.
“You don’t miss me?” she asked, her heart racing as she slid under his duvet, feeling the silkiness against her skin.
“I asked you first,” he murmured, his hand lightly caressing her cheek.
“It’s painful how much I do,” she confessed, feeling his lips meet hers in response, a feeling of completeness washing over her.
“Why are you wearing so much clothing?” he groaned, his hand running over her layers of flannel.
“I’m freezing! Didn’t you go outside? It’s a blizzard,” she explained, shivering as she nestled closer to him.
“You walked? Outside? In that? Fucking hell, this is why I hate that you are friends with Potter. Idiot,” Draco snarled, pulling her closer and wrapping her body under the blankets.
“Didn’t you? Everyone who didn’t take the train walked,” she countered.
“We took the tunnel, the one you showed us in Honeydukes. Zabini, Nott, and I took one look outside, Apparated into the basement, and took the tunnel,” Draco explained casually, making her feel foolish for not thinking of it herself.
“I should have thought of that!” she snapped, exhausted, curling into him even more.
“Yeah, you should have. Maybe then you wouldn’t be frozen in my bed,” he teased.
“You’re right... I’ll go freeze in my own bed,” she teased back, starting to untangle herself.
“You’re not going anywhere, Granger,” Draco grabbed her and pulled her beneath him, his body warmth pressing on top of her as he moved his lips down her neck, holding her wrists firm.
“If you weren’t expecting me, what are you still doing up?” she asked
“Figured I’d wait to see if I had to be a second in a duel... surprised I haven’t heard Potter murdering Zabini yet,” Draco said
“I can’t believe Ginny did that,” she said quickly. “Do you want me to do that?” she continued.
“Do you want to do that? Tongue me in front of everyone...” he joked back.
“I don’t want to hide you,” she admitted softly.
"I don't want that either," Draco admitted, his voice tinged with frustration. "You can't imagine how badly I wanted you beside me at those awful society gatherings my mother insists on. It's unbearable, dealing with those Pureblood families clawing their way back into the good graces of the Wizarding World. All I could think about was you, looking stunning in a dress. I hate having to pretend. Dodging courting requests, making excuses... It's all shit. All I want to do is tell everyone that I already possess the most extraordinary witch imaginable. But you’re not ready yet, but when you are… I will be”
"I want to be ready... it's just..." she started, but he interrupted her swiftly.
"You don't have to explain…. Don’t get me wrong I love having you like this too, all to myself. Knowing that every bloke in this castle is trying to muster the courage to talk to you, yet you come back to my bed every night," he murmured, pressing kisses along her neck, causing goosebumps to erupt and a familiar heat to build between her legs.
She moved her lips to kiss him, her legs naturally parting as he moved closer, his hands sliding between her thighs.
"My good girl," he whispered, his hands exploring. She loved it when he praised her. It scratched an itch she didn't even know she had, but he fulfilled it so perfectly.
"Draco..." she moaned, but she couldn't shake off her thoughts just yet.
"Parkinson complimented my earrings," she said, her breath catching, feeling his hand tense slightly.
"That doesn't surprise me. Parkinson would notice earrings like that; she's always been observant when it comes to jewelry. If I got you a book, I doubt she'd even glance at it," he continued, kissing down toward the collar of her jumper.
"Parkinson has never complimented me before," she added, and Draco let out a low, almost primal sound, rolling onto his side and pulling her close, clearly abandoning the notion of sex for the moment. Hermione's mind had been elsewhere.
"I'd cover your entire body with diamonds if you'd let me,” he said in a husky tone, his words laced with possessiveness.
"Draco..." she teased.
"If I can’t have you on my arm, I want to have some part of me on you," he said, gently touching the emerald earring. She let out a breathy laugh, nuzzling into his outstretched hand, her body still clad in her pajamas, pressing against his toned chest.
Her fingers traced over zig-zagging scars that marked his skin, he didn’t recoil, he let her fingers run up and down.
“Courting requests?” Hermione asked, her tone light but curious.
“You caught that?” Draco laughed.
“I didn’t realize I was in a competition.”
“Trust me, there is no competition. This is usually the age where marriage contracts are signed, a very old-fashioned way of thinking, but the older Pureblood families still adhere to that tradition. Even after our family name has been dragged through the mud, there are still a few families that still pester my mother about who will be the next lady of the Manor,” Draco explained casually.
“For a long time, Pansy and I were expected to eventually get married, but thankfully that dream of her mother's died… Pansy and Theo were almost about to sign their contract before the Battle of Hogwarts,” Draco continued, surprising Hermione with this revelation.
“What? Theo and Pansy? I didn’t know they dated...” Hermione remarked, intrigued.
“They didn’t, but it was between marrying Theo or Crabbe, and Theo couldn’t exactly tell his father why he didn’t want to marry Parkinson,” Draco explained matter-of-factly.
“Because he didn’t love her?”
“Isn’t that sweet notion” He laughed “Love has nothing to do with it most times. Theo never told his father he’s gay. Pansy would have been a cover, and Pansy could have had her flings on the side. They had talked about it and came to an arrangement,” Draco revealed, shedding light on a side of Theo Hermione had never known.
“Theo’s gay?!” Hermione exclaimed, looking back up into Draco's eyes.
“Oh, come on, Granger... as if it isn’t ragingly obvious,” Draco scoffed.
“Actually, it isn’t...” Hermione admitted. “I didn’t realize you had so much of your lives planned out for you...” she continued.
"Lucky, right? Surprisingly, that wasn’t even the grimmest part about growing up in Malfoy Manor, but I don’t think either of us want to hear those bedtime stories tonight," Draco smirked, though Hermione sensed he was hiding behind it.
Sometimes Hermione could almost forget Draco was a Death Eater until her eyes fell upon the angry red lines bleeding into his tattoo. Theo, too, was a greater mystery now. Bill's echoing words from Christmas.
She and Harry had discussed it upon their return to Grimmauld Place that night. Harry hadn't been aware of everything; the Ministry had kept certain details hidden. Hermione knew it was only a matter of time before Draco's past came to light. Percy's off-handed comment of Draco's record being somehow worse than Theo's accusation of killing ten people weighed heavily on her mind.
If there was one lesson she had learned from the previous hunts, it was that these challenges compelled partners to confront their deepest fears and darkest memories.
Draco had kept his demons closely guarded so far. He hadn't told her what he saw in his Remembrall, and in the second hunt, they delved into her Pensieve. How long could he hold out? She’d find out on Saturday.
But for tonight, for now, all she wanted was to fall asleep in his arms.
"Can I stay the night?" she asked softly.
"If it were up to me, you'd never leave."
Notes:
Up next we see the repercussions of Ginny's decision. (I do love a call back to her HBP kiss) and Blaise and Ginny are the first to go on the 3rd Hunt!
Chapter 31: Boggart
Chapter Text
Draco awoke alone, aware that she had slipped away during the early hours of the morning. The scent of lilacs still lingered on the pillow. He was desperate for the day when he could wake up to find her still beside him. But he couldn’t get away from the feeling of selfishness that crept in whenever he dared to hope for more.
He craved her undivided attention, yet he knew that going public with their relationship would thrust them into the unforgiving glare of the spotlight.
He had braced himself for the inevitable backlash, knowing that their relationship would be scrutinized and likely torn apart. Old Pureblood families who still clung to outdated prejudices would never accept the Malfoy Heir with a Muggleborn, but he didn’t give a fuck about them.
His real worry was the Malfoy-hating witches and wizards in the community who had fought against Voldemort and his Death Eaters. If they knew their Golden Girl had fallen for him, what would it do to her reputation? He didn’t want to drag her down with him; it was a constant internal tug-of-war.
He had still kept so much from her, the darkest deeds of the past year, the worst of it. What the Ministry had asked of him and Theo after the Battle. What would she think of him if she found out? He and Theo didn’t speak about it anymore, hoping to bury those memories, but he was acutely aware that they had potentially three hunts left if they made the final five. Based on the past two hunts, it was very likely that his past would somehow resurface, forcing him to face it finally. He didn’t know if he could bear to see the loathing in her eyes again, the way she used to look at him.
The way she looked at him now, with trust and affection, was his drug. He didn’t want to lose that.
He wanted her to trust him, but could he truly be trusted? He kept so many secrets from her—the true powers of the jewelry he gave her, its tracking abilities. He had avoided telling her last night about Pansy's knowledge of their relationship. While he didn’t outright lie because she didn’t outright ask him.
In his mind, he justified it. She didn’t need to know these things; the protection was for her own good. And if she ever needed him, he would be there. Pansy was a different matter; keeping her and Weasley’s relationship secret was for both of their benefit. Regardless, everything he hid, everything he strategically withheld from her, was done with her well-being in mind. She was his to protect.
Most mornings, Draco headed down to breakfast before the rush. He still disliked walking in the hallways with crowds; while most seventh and eighth years had slightly warmed to them based on the common room parties and the Unity Project, there were still many younger students who remembered last year and still hated him for it. He couldn’t blame them if he were being honest. He didn’t care much about being jeered at, but he hated having to hold his tongue or not being able to retaliate. That’s what fucking killed him the most. It would be a one-way ticket to Azkaban, and at one point, he thought that might not have been as bad as being in this castle. But now that he had Granger, he would do anything to keep her.
"Blaise, you're still alive, I see," Draco remarked, eyeing Zabini as he took his seat beside Theo and Pansy.
"That's the unnerving part. Weasley and Potter haven't said anything to me. I've been on edge, waiting for it. But it hasn't come yet," Blaise replied, glancing over at the Gryffindor table, which lacked both Harry and Ron.
"They don't know yet," Pansy interjected, taking a sip of her tea.
"Do you know that for sure?" Blaise asked quickly.
"I rode the Weasley train all last evening. I can confirm he had no idea, or I'm sure I would have heard about it," Pansy sneered, and Draco immediately regretted taking a bite of his toast.
"Parkinson, I'm eating," he shot back with disgust. "Also, what's this about you complimenting Granger on her earrings?"
"She told you about that? Of course, she did. I was just admiring them, Draco. It's been Slytherin girl lore since I can remember. Who would those earrings finally end up on?” She mocked.
“ It's still wild to me that you gave them to Granger and the fact that she has no idea. You realize you're lucky that her hair is so bushy. Any Slytherin girl in the fourth year and above may be able to recognize those," Pansy explained.
"And how would they recognize them? They've been in my vault for years," Draco countered.
"There's a drawing of them in the Sacred Twenty-Eight, in the Malfoy chapter... Didn't you know?" she shot back. Draco admitted to himself that he hadn't opened that book since he was twelve, maybe thirteen, and he definitely wouldn't have remembered the drawing of the Gems of Endor being in there.
"Yeah, well, you didn't have to go and say anything. She questioned me about it. I hate lying to her," Draco admitted.
"Oh, but you do it so well," Theo joked, and Draco gave him his best dagger stare.
The rest of breakfast was rather uneventful, with more students starting to arrive. Zabini's eyes kept darting towards the Great Hall entrance, anticipating the potential arrival of Potter or Weasley, wands raised on the attack, but it never came.
Whispers echoed up and down the tables, accompanied by glances in his direction; the news was undoubtedly spreading. An unease settled over them, knowing that it was only a matter of time before everyone knew, including Ginny's brother and her ex. For some reason, Draco felt that Weasley would react worse than Potter would.
Luckily, their first class was also uneventful. Justin Finch-Fletchley had turned around and whispered something to Parvati, who then glanced back. Draco inwardly cursed. Blaise just smirked back, reminding him of what he had said last night: anyone who had an issue could fuck off.
It wasn’t until they headed toward the Common Room for their free period, that the roar bellowed through the corridor, causing Draco's hand to instinctively reach for his wand, though he didn't draw it.
"Zabini! You fucking son of a bitch, you think you can take advantage of my little sister?" It was Weasley's voice.
Ding, ding. Draco's guess had been right. Harry trailed behind swiftly, the look on his face was more of shock than anger.
"Who was it, Weasley who finally told you? Finnegan? Thomas? Or maybe it was Ginevra herself?" Blaise responded coolly, ever so coolly, while Theo and Draco stood by his side, eyeing each other.
"Don’t you call her that!" Ron was inches from Blaise's face.
"I always imagined that if I ever got the talk from one of the older brothers, it'd be by one of the scary ones – you know, the one with the scar or maybe the dragon tamer. But no, to my complete dismay, it seems I'm stuck with you,” Blaise said back in his collected tone, edging into Ron.
"You’re fucking asking for it. Keep your hands off my sister," Ron advanced faster.
"Did you tell that to Potter as well?" Blaise retorted.
"Don’t start with me, Zabini. I’m with Ron on this. I hate the thought of you anywhere near her," Harry spat back.
"We aren’t jealous, are we, Potter? That you finally lost at something?" Blaise snapped back.
“This isn’t a game to me,” Harry moved closer as well, and Theo also stepped forward. Draco remained guarded, watching.
“Nobody is saying it’s a game. Tensions are high, clearly," Theo interjected. "But Blaise doesn’t have any ill intentions toward your sweet little Weaslette" he finished.
“How long have you known Nott? Always the secret keeper, aren’t you?” Harry spat back at Theo, his voice dripping with contempt, and Draco saw Theo’s face slip slightly.
“Potter, it—” Theo began, but Harry sharply cut him off.
“It wasn’t your place to tell me?” Harry shot back viciously.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ron burst in.
“Nothing,” Harry rounded quickly, and Draco's stomach tightened, his wand hand twitching in case Potter decided to let everything he knew loose.
“Well, whatever it is, I want you to stay the hell away from Ginny!” Ron shot back at Zabini.
“You think that’s for you to decide? Ginevra isn’t a helpless little lamb like the two of you treat her to be,” Zabini shot back.
“Stop calling her that!” Ron lunged forward, and Blaise didn’t move, and Draco felt the heat rising.
“Why are you going to sucker me like you did Malfoy? You can kick the shit out of me all you like, but it’s not going to stop me from dating your sister!” Zabini fired back.
"Ron, come on," Harry said, pulling Ron back slightly.
"Listen to Potter, Weasley... your sister has made up her mind, this is pointless," Draco finally spoke up, edging closer to Blaise, rolling his eyes.
Fucking hell, he hated Ron Weasley.
"I don’t fucking trust any of you... I don’t know what this is that you two, especially,” Ron said snapping and pointing at Draco and Blaise “Are playing at, but leave Ginny out of it!" he finished.
"Is it all snakes you don’t trust... or just us?" Draco asked, feeling the rage bubbling within him.
He wanted to completely annihilate the Weasel on the spot, acting so self-righteous even though he was taking Pansy to bed every damn night. He was such a fucking hypocrite. But he couldn’t do that to Pansy, he couldn’t do it to her. But he fucking wanted to, Draco thought bitterly.
“Because it seems to me, that you trust your partner... Parkinson? You two have been getting along smashingly but for some reason, you can’t wrap your tiny brain around the fact that maybe Granger, Potter, or your sister have found some redeeming qualities in their partners. You’re such a fucking joke... you know that?” Draco's words cut through him, and he watched as Ron's face twisted, but it wasn’t rage—it was caution. He had never once seen Ron move with caution; it was always headfirst, like the bull he was. Something Draco said must have finally clicked for him.
“Malfoy...” Zabini warned, and Draco knew exactly why. It was a dangerous slope they were walking down.
Draco stepped forward, "I just want to know what makes Parkinson so different from the rest of us in his eyes. Do you want to enlighten us? Is there something we're not doing that can gain your trust, as Parkinson did? She’s obviously doing something we’re not..."
Theo interjected with a low breath, "Draco."
Ron replied, his tone devoid of rage, but rather stony, "What are you getting at, Malfoy?"
“Gentlemen, what is going on here?!” McGonagall's voice rang out sharply as Ron still had his wand raised. “Mr. Weasley, why is your wand raised at Mr. Zabini?” she pushed, her expression stern.
“Ahh...” Weasley began to stumble.
“Weasley was just showing me this spell I was struggling with, Professor” Blaise interjected. A lame lie.
“Oh really? Is that true? Potter? Weasley?” she snapped; her disbelief evident. The two boys just nodded.
“Get to class, or your common room... all of you, before I put you in detention,” she snapped, and Ron moved to walk past Draco, his eyes drilling into his. Draco just gave him a smug, knowing smile.
All eyes were back on Ginny again, but it seemed just as the gossip died down around her and Harry's breakup, it shot to Hermione and Ron’s, now again back to her as she knew it would be, jumping into Blaise's arms as she did. But fuck it. She didn’t care. It seemed like everyone else in this damn place was too scared to admit the hard truths.
Her brother was the worst of them all. The bracelet on Pansy’s wrist had to have been the bracelet that Ron had purchased at Christmas.
They were identical, and Parkinson seemed too skittish when Ginny called her out. At first, her mind said no way that Ron would buy her that. Or if he did, why? Then it flooded to her. Ron was sleeping with her —he had to be. For weeks now, he seemed in a better mood, higher spirits. He was sleeping with Pansy Parkinson, the way he defended her at Christmas, it all made sense.
Revolt and disgust, all of those feelings washed over her, and again another goddamn secret to keep. She wasn’t sure what the fuck to do. Should she wait and ask him about it? She really didn’t want to. That was a conversation that she’d never want to have with her brother.
“Your brother knows about us,” Blaise said as he turned the corner. They were about to go on the third hunt, and Ginny would be lying if she said she wasn’t nervous.
“I figured he’d find out eventually,” Ginny scoffed, moving closer to him.
“So does Potter,”
“Harry? They spoke to you?” Ginny felt herself flush. She hadn’t had a proper conversation with Harry in months. Maybe out of respect, she should have talked to him first. But last night when she saw the bracelet, critical thinking went out the window and she went for what she wanted.
“Wouldn’t say it was much of a conversation. I was warned to stay away from you... from both of them,” Zabini smirked.
“Bloody idiots,” she said, rolling her eyes, as Blaise grabbed her hand and pulled her into his chest.
“They’re just protective, even though you and I both know you don’t need any protecting.” He grinned as his lips met hers, and she kissed back. She loved it.
“You didn’t think it was hypocritical?” she asked tentatively, breaking away.
“Hypocritical?” he questioned, squinting his eyes.
“Yeah... seeing how Ron’s shagging Parkinson,” she said deadpan, scratching for a reaction. She was playing a strategic game. Did Blaise know? If he did, how long had he kept it from her? She watched as Blaise shifted, his eyes looking everywhere but at her, and he gulped, his adam's apple bobbing as if he was searching for the right response.
“How do you know that?” he finally admitted, conceding her early victory.
“You knew! And you didn’t tell me?” she pushed.
“I just found out before the holidays... and it's not an easy subject to bring up. Plus, she knew about us, so we made a deal,” he explained.
“You told her?” she asked, surprised.
“No. Remember the prefects' bath?” he gulped.
“Yes.”
“She was in there with your brother, and they heard us coming in and hid in one of those change stalls. Now don’t worry, he was none the wiser. She made sure of that. But she saw us....”
“What the fuck, Blaise?!” she was in complete disbelief, mortified at the thought. She had shagged Blaise in that bathtub, feet from where her brother was?
She thought she might hurl. Ron could never know. He’d definitely murder Blaise then. It was one thing to know they were dating; it was another to picture them splashing around in a tub together.
“I wasn’t ever planning on telling you about that incident. How’d you find out?” he asked again.
“Her bracelet. I found the box before Christmas. I honestly thought he was going to try to give it to Hermione, and when he didn’t, I thought he came to his senses. Next thing you know, it shows up on Parkinson's wrist. That was never for Hermione, was it?” she asked.
“No, I don’t believe it was,” Zabini responded directly.
“I honestly can’t believe it. What a little shit. The old 'poor me' act he pulled. I actually felt a little bad for him about the whole Hermione thing. The worst part is, I don’t even want to call him out because how awkward is that? To tell your brother you know about his secret shag? And Parkinson? He hated Parkinson. We could barely get him to speak with her in the beginning!” Ginny exclaimed.
“Like you hated me, or Granger hated Malfoy?” he quipped.
“I never hated you. I just thought you were a twat,” she smiled.
“Well, this twat says it’s 8 o’clock so are you ready?” he smirked back, holding out the small parchment that always revealed itself.
She gulped, and the paper unfurled, the golden writing transitioning into black ink like the last two hunts.
‘Amidst darkness deep, the light's your guide,
Confront your fears, take them in stride.
Ponder paths untaken, you'll see,
What could've been, devoid of choices made by thee.’
The paper ignited, transforming into a tiny ball of flames suspended in the air, eagerly traversing down the corridor.
"Here we go again,” she sighed to Blaise, who gently guided her forward with a hand on the small of her back, allowing her to take the lead.
“You think you'll let me under that skirt at the end of this one too?” he breathed into her ear, and she got a tingle of delight.
“I'd let you do it right now... if we weren't being timed,” she winked back.
“Don't tempt me...” he moved and gave her a small smack on her ass as she ran down the flight of steps.
“Get your mind out of the gutter, Zabini. We’re beating Malfoy and Hermione,” she joked as she pushed away his wandering hands.
They followed the flickering bundle of flames deeper into the castle's shadowed depths, navigating through corridors and winding staircases. Ginny's sense of familiarity was lost once they reached the dungeon hallways; she could barely recognize they were still in Hogwarts. If you had asked her, this felt like she always pictured Azkaban to feel like.
Finally, the ball of fire came to a halt at a nondescript grate on the stone floor. Blaise mentioned they had long passed the Slytherin Common room. His voice broke slightly as he looked into the darkness below, the flame dipping between the bars of the grate.
“I think we need to go down there,”
With a strained grunt, he hoisted the weighty metal grate, revealing a gaping hole that led into an abyssal tunnel below.
Ginny peered over the edge and jumped in, with Zabini following closely behind. The tunnel was cramped, small, and damp, but the flame continued to bob ominously ahead as they knelt and continued.
“I hate to say this, but this almost makes me miss the bees,” he joked behind her as they finally saw an opening ahead.
Ginny moved quicker, feeling her entire body on edge as she jumped into a cavernous room filled with dust and cobwebs.
In the middle lay a massive chess set, the pieces the size of people, with a few smashed pieces lying on the board. She swore she saw a pool of stained blood by a smashed knight’s horse.
“Where are we?” she asked, her voice echoing in the chamber. But the orb kept floating over the broken chess set as if leading them further.
“I have no fucking clue,” Zabini said back, pulling her closer to him as they walked.
Their footsteps echoed on the marble floor as they passed another tall knight, its stone gaze seemingly following their every move.
Approaching the heavy door to the second chamber, Blaise pushed it open with a grunt. The chamber was shrouded in darkness, illuminated only by the dim light of their wands. Yet amidst the shadows, Ginny heard the soft, familiar sound of sobs.
"Stop. What is that?" she asked, her voice barely rising above a whisper. As she moved her wand light, she saw a small bundle in the corner, crying and bleeding. She recognized the face, the body...
"Ginny... Ginny..." It was her mother on the ground, helpless, blood pouring from her throat. Ginny panicked, rushing to her side, but as she reached out, the body twisted, now her father was lying there, pleading for help, the light fading from his eyes.
"Blaise! Blaise, help, help me!" Ginny screamed, the scene shifting once more, this time it was Ron, lifeless and still.
Her heart ached; this couldn't be real, none of it could be real. Why were they like this?
"Ginevra, come here! It's not real... It's a boggart!" Zabini's voice boomed as he wrapped his arm around her waist, lifting her off the ground.
The body changed again, and Ginny saw herself... with Harry? Harry had Ginny wrapped up in his arms, and they were kissing.
"Riddikulus!" Blaise shouted, his wand casting the spell. The form changed once more; now Harry stood balancing teacups on his head and juggling bludgers. It was utterly ridiculous, and despite herself, Ginny let out a small laugh. She heard Zabini laughing beside her, though it seemed a bit forced.
With a pop, the form disappeared altogether, leaving Ginny feeling a sense of relief wash over her.
“Confront your fears, take them in stride.” Zabini huffed, surely rolling his eyes.
"Ponder paths untaken, and you'll see, what could've been, devoid of choices made by thee? What's bloody next, a Basilisk?" she murmured, the orb reappearing once more, illuminating their way through the darkness.
Blaise held tightly to Ginny's waist as they approached a massive doorway.
Together, they pushed it open, as they stepped into the room, the bright light of hundreds of flaming torches scorched their eyes. Blinking against the sudden brightness, Ginny and Blaise made their way down the steps toward a singular large mirror. It towered over them, as tall as Blaise and as wide as both of them standing side by side.
Blaise tightened his grip around her, his expression unreadable as he surveyed the mirror. The orb hovered nearby, casting dancing shadows on the walls, and Ginny couldn't shake the feeling of unease as she stared into the mirror's depths. This wasn’t going to be good, she thought internally.
Two small potion bottles materialized within the mirror, and Blaise nodded at her, taking her hand as they passed through a small veil that had appeared as the reflective glass vanished.
They found themselves in a tiny room beyond the mirror, peering back at the fiery hall they had just left behind.
"Unlock the secrets of roads unseen, only one choice reveals what might have been," Blaise read from the parchment between the bottles.
"It's like the Pensieve, but it seems this time we aren't given a choice. Do you think the potion will decide? Is one of them just a placebo?" Ginny asked hesitantly.
"It seems that way. Bottoms up, Weasley. We've made it this far," Blaise said, flashing her a reassuring smile. It was the kind of smile that made her feel like she could conquer anything, and before she knew it, she was tipping the bottle to her lips.
The potion tasted like strong cough syrup, a mixture of boiled cherries and fir tree.
As they swallowed the last drops, the room began to shake and reverberate, shifting until Ginny found herself standing in a large courtroom with high vaulted ceilings. The air was freezing cold, and Dolores Umbridge, Yaxley, Dolohov, and other Death Eaters she didn’t recognize loomed above. Everyone was dressed in black, their faces gaunt.
"What the fuck," Ginny muttered under her breath.
"Bring in the blood traitors!" Dolores screamed, and Ginny felt Blaise grip her hand tightly as a lineup of chains rattled on the ground. There they were—Ginevra Weasley, Luna Lovegood, Parvati Patil, Padma Patil, Lavender Brown. —all of them bruised and battered chained together.
“The court has reached a decision regarding your involvement in the treachery of Harry Potter and the terrorist organization known as Dumbledore’s Army. You have all been found guilty of the crimes you've committed. Ginevra Weasley, Luna Lovegood, Lavender Brown, Parvati, and Padma Patil, as witches of Pureblood or Half-Blood descent. The Ministry and our Dark Lord do not spill magical blood unnecessarily so you'll all be assigned to Pureblood families, to live out your days in servitude." Dolores slammed her gavel, and the room vanished.
Blaise held Ginny tighter as they found themselves in another dark room. Another Ginny sat sobbing on a large bed, the room around her grandiose, glamorous, yet its windows seemed devoid of light, casting a darker shadow over the world around them. It wasn't their world.
The Ginny she stared at had a hollow face, bloodshot eyes, her figure thin and devoid of muscular definition, yet her hair was still vibrant red. She wore crisp, clean white robes.
Another Blaise entered the room, his demeanor cold and rigid, clutching a small vial in his hand. Ginny’s eyes shot to Blaise beside her confused.
"Ginevra, I have a calming draught, if you are in need," he called her name, his tone familiar yet distant, his features hardened.
"Zabini! Please... please tell me... what happened to my family? Nobody will tell me anything. Why am I here?! How did I get here?" the Ginny on the bed pleaded through tears, her undereye purplish yellow.
"What do you remember?" the other Blaise asked, his voice catching in his throat, and Ginny felt the real Blaise's breath quicken, his grip on her tightening.
"I remember being told Harry was killed, I remember Death Eaters showing up at Muriel's, and then I was thrown into that cell. Into the cell with Luna, and Parvati, Padma, Lavender. Please, just tell me where my family is," the Ginny cried louder, and she felt herself freeze.
"Your father is dead, as is your mother. Charlie is still in Romania, whereabouts unknown. Percy fled the Ministry and took Fred and George when he did. Death Eaters are hunting them down. Bill is dead, and the Ministry has Fleur and is negotiating her release back to her parents in France," the other Blaise explained directly. Always direct even in this life.
"Ron? Hermione?" Ginny's tears continued to flow, her expression distant, as if she were holding back.
"Last I heard, Ron and Hermione are still being held at Malfoy Manor," Blaise said, attempting to reach out to her.
"Don't fucking touch me! Don't ever fucking touch me!" Ginny screamed, pushing away his attempts at comfort. "Why am I here?!" she demanded.
"They gave you to me," the other Blaise said, his voice chillingly calm, and Ginny felt Blaise's grip tighten even more on her arm, his heart pounding in his wrist.
"Why?" the other Ginny whispered, and Ginny felt a surge of sickness wash over her.
"I asked," the other Blaise replied coolly.
Ginny felt herself out of breath, choking, drowning, as the room dissolved around them, the other Blaise and Ginny melting away.
Gasping for air, they found themselves back in the torch-lit chamber, the floor solid beneath their feet once more.
The mirror still loomed before them, its surface now inscribed with writing where the potion bottles had been.
“Your current state is a result of choices made. Life could be different if paths had strayed. - 34 minutes and 55 seconds.”
“Are you alright?” Blaise held her tightly, but Ginny was lost in her tears, barely aware of his embrace.
“What the fuck was that?” she gasped, each breath a struggle to take.
“I think that's what would have happened if Potter had lost,” Blaise said softly, his fingers gently brushing through her hair.
“Why... why was I with you? You asked for me? I don’t understand,” Ginny's voice trembled with confusion and fear.
“Gin... it wasn't real,” Blaise reassured her, meeting her glossy eyes with his own, a hint of fear, but he remained composed for her sake.
“It felt so real,” Ginny's mind raced with horrifying possibilities.
Imprisoned, given away to another family... for what? She could piece together the implications from the trial, but it was still too awful for her mind to go back to.
“We're here now, just you and me... and none of that happened. You're safe, your family is safe. This was just to show us what could have been, not what is. Alright?” Ginny remained cradled in Blaise's arms, feeling a sense of security she hadn't experienced before, the first time she had truly let her guard down in front of him.
“I don’t know if I want to win the Chalice this badly,” Ginny managed to let out an exhausted chuckle, wiping away a tear.
“Yes, you do, because you're strong... and this was nothing but a glimpse into another reality that isn't ours. Come on, I'll get you some tea, and you're staying with me tonight,” Blaise said, his tone pointedly comforting.
“We should tell the others... this hunt will be the worst,” she said as he helped her to her feet.
“Let’s not count our luck yet, things can always get worse,” he replied darkly as they made their way back the way they came.
Ginny tossed and turned all night, the visions from the mirror haunting her thoughts, thankfully every time she woke up Blaise was there, his hands never leaving her.
What could have been if Harry had lost, the thought of Blaise asking for her while she was being auctioned off like cattle, while her family suffered and died, lingered in her mind. He had admitted to having feelings for her for years. Was that why he had asked for her in that reality?
But it wasn’t real, she reminded herself, over and over again.
Desperately wanting to confide in Hermione, Ginny knew that whatever Harry, Ron, and Hermione were going to see would likely be just as bad, if not worse than hers. But she couldn’t bring herself to share, not when it hadn’t been real, not at the risk of her being disqualified. Facing her boggart had clarified things for her. Now, more than ever, she wanted the Chalice. She wanted to win, to ensure her family would never be in danger again.
Chapter 32: Secrets
Chapter Text
Ron seethed as he and Harry stormed back to the Common Room. The look on Malfoy’s face, the way he goaded him on—what did he know? It seemed like Malfoy was pushing for something more.
Did he know about Parkinson? Did all the snakes know about their relationship – if you could call it that? He couldn’t have. There was no way Malfoy wouldn’t weaponize that secret against him to pull Hermione closer.
Pansy had said it was casual, and she had continued to say that almost every time she slipped into his room, or the countless times she told him over the Christmas break while her parents were away. Ron told himself it was casual as well, but he enjoyed her company, wanting her to stay in his bed, hating when she would quickly get up and dress. It was agonizing to see her put clothes back on.
“How are you not more pissed off? She’s your ex-girlfriend,” Ron roared as he slammed the door to his room, Harry quickly stepping in behind.
“You don’t think it bothers me that Ginny didn’t even come and talk to me before the entire castle knew she was with Zabini? I am pissed. I’m pissed that it seems like everyone is keeping secrets and I bloody hate it. Why not be honest, why couldn’t she tell me?” Harry snapped.
That hit home for Ron. Harry seemed more upset about all the secrets and lying than he did about the fact that Ginny had moved on. Ron secretly wanted Ginny and Harry to work it out, even though he didn’t love the thought of them together—his sister and his best mate—but he knew Harry was honorable and would always treat her well. He didn’t know a damn thing about Zabini.
He now felt even worse that he was also lying to Harry. He hadn’t told anyone about Parkinson. Maybe he should tell Harry. Harry would have told him.
“You’re not mad they’re together? You’re mad she didn’t tell you?” Ron questioned.
“All I’ve ever wanted is for Ginny to be happy. If for some reason she is happy with him, then I’m happy. Will I kill him if he hurts her? Absolutely. But I’m not going to rip her to shreds over who she chooses to be with. She chose not to be with me. I needed to accept it and accept who she was going to be dating next. I had braced myself for it, obviously, I never expected it to be fucking Blaise Zabini, but here we are. I’m just angry that she didn’t feel like she could have been honest with me from the beginning... It just feels like everyone is trying to hide things and I thought we’d be so far past that by now..,” Harry finished.
Guilt ran through him. He should be happy if his sister was happy. Why couldn’t he feel the acceptance that Harry had so clearly got to before him?
Zabini would never be good enough for his little sister, his only sister, but she needed to make her own choices, whether he agreed or not. If Ginny had found out about Pansy, he was sure she’d lay into him about her.
Maybe he was being a total twat.
“Harry, I need to tell you something,” Ron finally gulped.
“Fucking hell, what next?” Harry said, exhausted.
“I’ve been shagging Parkinson, for about two months now,” Ron ripped off the bandaid. Harry was his best mate, and he knew how much had been kept from him his whole life. Through everything, Harry had stuck by Ron, even when Ron hadn’t stuck by him.
Harry stared for a long moment, then just burst out laughing. A wild, maniacal laugh that seemed to Ron like Harry had just lost it, snapped. Ron sat there, staring, confused.
“Parkinson? Pansy Parkinson? You’re sleeping with her?” Harry said, still laughing so hard that he was wiping away a tear.
“Yeah,” Ron replied, worried that Harry had finally gone mental.
“Am I a fucking idiot, mate? Please tell me. Have I always been this oblivious?” Harry asked, standing up.
“No, you’re not an idiot,”
“How could I figure out how to find and destroy Horcruxes but I’m blind to the signs... I should have known. You didn’t go out with Dean and Seamus on Christmas, the way you defended her, you even stayed with her that night in Hogsmeade, and I didn’t think once to ask what was going on?” Harry continued.
“To be fair, it happened the night of Hogsmeade for the first time,” Ron said, still eyeing his best friend warily.
“So I guess this means you're over Hermione?” Harry said, sitting back down.
It was a question that Ron wasn’t exactly ready to answer. He hadn’t thought about what it meant to be "over" her. He would love her until the day he died, but not in the way of burning passion that would keep them together forever.
“Pansy and I are just casual,” was the only reply he could think of to that.
“Casual?” Harry questioned.
“That’s what she wants,” Ron explained
“What she wants?” Harry questioned back
“After the first time, I couldn’t stop thinking of her. It was like a craving... I felt like I was going mad. She’s witty and feisty, but once you get to know her, she’s warm and caring. She doesn’t put up with shit, and of course, I agreed to no strings, anything to have her again. But now... things have changed for me, and I don’t think they have for her. A part of me will always love Hermione, but Pansy has burned through me, unlike anything I had ever expected. I bought her a bloody diamond bracelet for Christmas. I'm in way over my head here,” Ron admitted.
“You still have Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches? You told me once it was pure gold,” Harry laughed, and Ron smirked.
“I don’t think any of those will work on Pansy,” he laughed.
“I don’t really know what to tell you mate, I’m bloody awful at all this too,” Harry joked back. “I’m glad you told me. I’m honestly a little dumbfounded; you two hated each other almost as much as you hate Malfoy. Maybe there is hope after all,” Harry joked.
“Fucking no shot I’ll ever think that Malfoy isn’t a cunt,” Ron grimaced.
“Are you going to tell Hermione?” Harry asked tentatively.
“And how would I do that? Oh by the way, ‘Mione, I’m shagging Parkinson?” Ron shivered at the thought.
“I just want you two to be honest with each other. Christ, that’s all I want. Between you and Gin... It’s a damn madhouse this year. I almost miss when my only problem was figuring out how to survive the year,” Harry laughed.
“No, you don’t,” Ron pushed back. “I’ll talk to ‘Mione when she’s ready to be honest with me... regardless of what she’s saying, she’s not being honest with me about Malfoy. I know you don’t agree, but I know something is going on there, and it’s more than friendship,” Ron rolled his eyes.
Harry paused for a moment as if racking his brain.
“Ron... Nott and Malfoy were over Christmas Eve. I had invited Nott because I felt bad about him being alone on Christmas, but Malfoy tagged along too. I really wanted to make sure Hermione had a good holiday, so I just went with it. He’s definitely still a prat, but he cares about her, even I could see that” Harry said, looking back shyly.
“You had Nott and Malfoy over for Christmas Eve and didn’t tell me!” Ron felt his anger flare at the thought.
“You were doing god knows what with Parkinson on Christmas and didn’t tell me,” Harry shot back,
Ron bit his tongue. “Right,” Ron huffed.
“And did you notice anything between them? Finally, admit that I’ve not gone mad?” Ron asked, unsure if he really wanted to know the answer.
Harry looked over at him, rubbing his forehead. “They’re close, you’re not completely mad,” Harry said quickly, and Ron felt a surge of vindication.
“I still don’t trust them. Malfoy, Nott, Zabini...” Ron muttered.
“But you trust Parkinson?” Harry smirked, and Ron felt himself floating back to what Malfoy was saying in the hallway just minutes earlier, redeeming qualities and all that nonsense.
He knew he was being ignorant, but fuck if he was going to admit that to Malfoy or even Harry at this point. Ron knew he could be bullheaded, but there was no way he was going to forgive and forget just by trusting the word of Harry, Hermione, or Ginny.
If Malfoy, Nott, or Zabini wanted redemption in his eyes, he’d have to see it for himself.
Harry stayed for a little while longer, and Ron couldn’t help but throw some light jabs about his newfound friendship with Malfoy and Nott, to which Harry would roll his eyes or snap something back. Ron was a little off-put by the information, but he didn’t have much ground to stand on. Though that hadn’t stopped him before from being petty, it probably wouldn’t stop him now.
Ron hadn’t seen his sister during dinner; it was her hunt that evening, and he knew that she’d be with Zabini. He was also dead curious to see what the third hunt would have in store. He slunk back into his desk chair in his room, overthinking it all.
He and Pansy hadn’t been sleeping together during their first two hunts. Would it change anything if they were faced with more awful memories? His spiral of thoughts was interrupted by a small tap at the door, and then, in a flash, black short hair.
Fig, amber, she was in her school skirt and white blouse, slightly undone, and she kicked off her shoes.
“Are you angry with me, Weasley?” she said, meeting his eyes, a small smirk on her lips.
“Why would I be angry with you, Parkinson?” he swiveled in his chair, eyeing up her legs as she moved toward him.
“Zabini, and your sister.” She moved closer, one leg about to dangle on his bed.
“So, you did know,” Ron snapped back quickly, yet he was finding it hard to hold any type of anger toward her.
“I did,” she said quietly, moving her other leg onto his bed. She was on her knees, upright by his pillows, and so far from him.
“You didn’t figure to give me a heads up,”
“Blaise is a good guy, probably the best of all of us. I didn’t think you had anything to worry about. If I felt differently, maybe I would have told you,” She said nonchalantly.
“Yeah... well, I’m hesitant to believe you on that,” he rolled his eyes.
“What’s going to happen now?” she asked again, moving closer on both knees as she sank deeper into his mattress staring directly into his eyes, that cheeky glimmer in them.
“What are you on about?” he asked back, though his breath was catching slightly as she bit down on her lip.
“I’ve been a bad girl, what’s my punishment?” she breathed, now on all fours, crawling toward the end of his bed.
His mind was racing…..He didn’t even give a fuck anymore about what she knew, or who she told. All he cared about was this game she played and how desperate he was to be a part of it.
Ron moved toward her, slowly lifting himself off his chair, moving around the edge of his bed, and taking her in.
"What should your punishment be?” he growled, kneeling on his bed to capture her lips with his own.
She kissed back eagerly. Fire whiskey – Pansy Parkinson was fire whiskey.
"What's under this skirt, Parkinson? It better be nothing, or you're going to be punished even more," he teased. She let out a sweet little moan as his hands wandered up the back of her skirt, her back arching into him.
The second his hands ran over her smooth skin and into her thighs, he knew she wasn't wearing anything underneath. His hands dipped into her soaked pussy.
His nerves were getting the best of him. He had played out this fantasy before in his mind when he was with Hermione, though it was shameful for him to think about, too dirty. But Pansy... Pansy might let him lean into it.
"You love being my dirty little slut, don't you?" he whispered into the back of her ear, feeling the shiver run down her spine. With one hand pressing down on her back and the other working its way between her sweet wet cunt.
“I’ll be whatever you want me to be,” she squeaked back as his hands were massaging into her.
Removing his hand, he unbuckled his belt, snapping it off loudly as the leather cracked against itself.
Pansy let out another small moan – did she want that?
He looped the belt into itself and lifted her skirt up. She spread her thighs wider for him, sinking deeper into the mattress.
She wanted it.
A light smack, his chest rising and falling, his heart pounding. His cock was rock solid as her body moved with the leather hitting her ass, a beautiful red mark appearing.
"Again?" he groaned.
"Yes," she let out in a breathy moan, and he did it once more, leather on her ivory skin, another delicious little red mark. She moaned again louder, and he grabbed her waist, flipping her over. Her face was dripping with want.
"You're going to beg for it," he grunted as he captured her luscious cherry lips in his and tied her wrists together to one of his bedposts with his belt.
He felt that primal desire that always overcame him when she looked like this, as he ripped off her blouse – she was braless.
Fucking hell, she knew what she was doing when she came in here.
His mouth instantly went to those perky nipples; and his fingers wandered back down between her legs, pumping into her as she squirmed, trapped, helpless to him.
His mouth moved down her body, toward his favorite taste. He could drown in her, as his lips devoured her alabaster skin, her heavy moaning of his name driving him to fucking burst.
His cock was throbbing, desperate to feel her, but watching her beg picked at a fucking piece of him that he couldn’t begin to explain. A sick desire.
His tongue swirled into her, lapping up everything she was giving him. She ground her hips into his face as he held her thighs down, her eyes shutting in satisfaction.
"Open your eyes, I want you to watch," he said in a husky voice, tightening his grip.
"Anything," her voice was bordering on pleading, her big dark eyes filled with lust as she continued to moan, she was getting louder. He thought about a silencing charm but he was almost at his edge.
She was the sexiest fucking thing he had ever experienced in his life, as his tongue and fingers continued to move in and out of her.
"Ron... please... please,"
Fuck, that’s what he needed to hear.
"Please what?" he pushed back, his tongue momentarily ceasing its rolling around her clit.
"Ron, please, fuck me," she was begging, and he was going to give her exactly what she asked for.
Moving, he pulled off the remaining fabric that clung to him and plunged into her, giving in to her immediately.
He felt himself fill her, ecstasy coursing through him. He thrust into her, his lips on hers as he pounded deeper. Her arms were still tied together, twisting underneath him as he preyed on every part of her body.
"Gods I love this," he groaned involuntarily into her lips.
"I’m so close," her breath was ragged, her words pouring over him in a frenzy. He felt himself thrusting deeper and harder, teeth biting into the bottom of her lip as he struggled to hold himself back, wanting her to unravel first.
He was holding his breath, as her body began shaking underneath his.
Thank fucking Merlin because he couldn’t have lasted much longer. His mind momentarily left as she screamed out his name, and it felt like he blacked out as he filled her, pumping himself into her aimlessly as he both collapsed exhaustively.
He rolled back onto his sheets, the lamp above swaying. His sheets felt clammy against his skin.
Blinking, he noticed faint flashes of stars in his vision. His hand rested on his chest, feeling the dampness of his sweat.
“Weasley, are you going to untie me?” Pansy’s voice snapped him back to reality.
“Oh, right,” he replied, snapping out of his reverie, and turned over to loosen the belt on her wrists. “I am tempted to leave you like this,” he joked.
“Pervert,” she retorted with a smile as she rubbed her wrists, moving toward him, her eyes meeting his.
“Ahhh, you think we could do this again?” he asked hesitantly.
“We do this almost every night,” she scoffed.
“I mean... like... the role play? Maybe something different next time?” he said with a small grimace, worried he might come off as a total wanker.
“Like a costume or something?” she asked, her tone curious.
“Well... do you have a costume?” His heart rate increased.
“I’ll make you a deal. Tomorrow night... you wear that Ares costume from Halloween, and I'll tie myself up and let you come save me,” Pansy smiled, biting back down on her bruised supple lip.
“I might have to save you anyway, our next hunt is tomorrow,”
Harry found himself hiding, not just from his friends, but from himself and his life. Blaise and Ginny? Draco and Hermione? Now Ron and Pansy? What the hell was happening? And the fact that not a single one of them was being honest about it.
Had they not been through enough in the past years to know that lying, hiding, and being secretive would ruin everything? Ron and Hermione should have known better. They were no better than Dumbledore or all the other adults in his life who tried to hide things for the greater good, thinking they were being helpful, protective, or whatever delusions they told themselves. Hermione and Ron would end up hurting each other more in the long run by playing their game of cat and mouse.
And then there was Ginny... His Ginny or he guessed Zabini’s Ginny now. He thought she hated him, but he had also been wrong about Ron hating Pansy or Hermione hating Malfoy, so what else was new? Had she broken up with him for Zabini, or was he just a casual fallback?
Harry was positive that eventually they would mend things, and move forward. He wasn’t daft or ignorant enough to think that other blokes wouldn't pursue her; they always had before. Hearing about Blaise and Ginny didn't stir up the desperate need to run back to her and beg for her to take him back, nor did it evoke jealousy or resentment. It just felt... empty. He still felt empty; lost.
The only time he hadn't felt disoriented in months was when Theo kissed him on Christmas. Fucking Theo. He had known all along about everything, about everyone. He had told Harry they were friends, yet held back so much.
And what about that kiss? Theo had kissed him, then just never mentioned it again. They had barely spoken since. Theo was a goddamn enigma.
Harry sat at one of the deepest tables buried in the back of the library, convinced that not even Hermione could find him there. He was done speaking with Ron; despite admitting his fucking strange relationship with Pansy Parkinson— Ron still made snide remarks about Malfoy and Nott coming over for Christmas. Ron could be the biggest hypocrite of them all, and stubborn at that.
The library wasn’t his first choice for hiding. He had considered the Quidditch Pitch, then maybe Hagrid's hut, or even the Common Room or his dormitory. But none of them felt like a secure enough hiding spot where someone couldn't easily seek him out—undoubtedly Hermione, or maybe even Ginny.
It was late, well past curfew, and he should have been back in the Common Room. But he had his invisibility cloak, so he could slip back at any time. He was also certain that Madame Pince had forgotten he was even back there. A small win on a day filled with defeats.
“You’re incredibly difficult to find,” the voice startled him, and Harry jumped from his seat, spilling his quill on his blank parchment.
“What do you want, Nott?” Harry said, looking up to see Theo leaning against a bookshelf, his brown hair falling over his eyes, which were filled with moonlight from the windows.
“We have our third hunt in two days, and I wanted to clear the air. You’re obviously angry with me,” Nott said, moving closer but not sitting down.
“How’d you figure that one out?” Harry said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.
“I gave you the opportunity to ask... you just never took it,” Theo replied.
“When?” Harry said incredulously.
“Our second hunt... I said I’d tell you a secret if you told me one,”
“What secret were you going to tell me then? Huh? That my ex-girlfriend was fucking your best mate Zabini? About Malfoy and Hermione? Or maybe Ron and Parkinson?” Harry snapped.
“You know about Weasley and Parkinson then?” Theo moved to sit in the chair across.
“Yeah,” Harry quipped.
“In my defense, Draco and Granger, and Weasley and Pansy hadn’t happened at the point; I was going to tell you about Blaise and Ginny,” Theo said stonily.
“But when you did find out about them, you added it to your catalog of funny things that Harry Potter was oblivious to. So you could laugh behind my back at how stupid I was for not seeing it,” Harry accused.
“Are you mad at me, or are you mad at your ex-girlfriend for moving on?” Theo shot back.
“I’m mad at you... I’m mad at all of them. I’m mad that everyone is fucking lying to me or lying to each other. Especially you,” Harry replied.
“Especially me?” Theo questioned.
“Why’d you kiss me, Theo?” Harry erupted.
“I wanted to, and I had hoped you wanted to too. Are you mad at me for that, or are you mad that you’re added to the list of people lying to one another or themselves?” Theo said casually.
Harry felt his body grow hot at the thought of it. Theo always had a way of ripping down to the root of the problem.
“I’m mad at myself too... I haven’t told anyone about the kiss” Harry gulped.
“So quick to judge your friends, yet you have something you’re hiding from them. Is it that difficult to understand their reasoning?” Theo rolled his eyes.
“It’s not difficult to understand the reasoning, it’s just after everything they’ve been through with each other, with me, this was supposed to be the easy part of our lives, who you want to spend it with, and who your friends are,” Harry added.
“It’s never easy to figure out who you want to spend your life with, and who will or won’t approve. It’s one thing we have little control over,” Theo said back.
“Theo… am I … am I gay?” Harry asked sincerely. The question had been on the edge of his mind for months, the way he felt about Nott, the way he was moving into his thoughts.
Theo smiled as if he were trying desperately to hold back a laugh.
“I don’t know Potter, are you?” Theo responded.
“You got me all messed up, you know that? That bloody kiss... I liked it... I’ve never kissed a guy before, but I liked when you kissed me. But I also feel like I don’t fucking know you at all...” Harry admitted. He felt like he needed to let this out. Against everything that was telling him not to trust Theo, he let it spill anyway.
Theo smirked, that knowing smirk like he held the secrets of the world, and let out an exhaustive, breathy laugh.
“Potter... let’s start with friends… actual friends, not like when you asked me last time. Ones that don’t keep things from each other. And if the moment's there and you want to snog or explore…. we’ll go from there. I’ve been through what you’re going through and I don’t think you're ready to fully understand what you’re feeling yet, but I can help,” Theo said, leaning back in his chair. Harry’s mind was in a full spin.
He knew Theo was right; he wanted to kiss him again, to try it again. But he was so hesitant, unsure of how he felt, how to navigate what Nott brought out of him.
Plus... Theo was... well an ex-Death Eater, someone who would have tried to kill him or capture him seven months ago.
“I’d like to actually get to know you...” Harry admitted.
“That’s a scary thought,” Theo replied with a grin.
“I don’t think it is,” Harry retorted quickly.
Theo let out a long sigh.
“Are you asking me to keep another secret?” Theo added.
“Yes,” Harry admitted, feeling ashamed especially after that big fucking speech he just went on.
Theo stood up, and walked around the edge of the long wooden table. Harry watched, waiting for him to call him a coward or a hypocrite or anything to remind him of how small he felt at that moment.
But he didn’t. Theo moved his hand over Harry’s chest, and Harry impulsively leaned into it, his eyes closing slightly. When he slowly opened them, Theo’s face was close to his again, his lips almost touching his. Theo pressed lightly against Harry’s, so gentle it barely felt like anything, before pulling back.
“I’ll keep your secrets, Potter. If you’ll keep mine.”
Chapter 33: Another Life
Chapter Text
Hermione woke up in her bed, a sense of disorientation washing over her. She couldn't recall how she had ended up there. The last thing she remembered was pouring over an Arithmancy workbook at her desk late into the night.
Turning towards her bedside table, she noticed a steaming cup of coffee. Draco must have been there, he must have placed her into bed, she had shown him how to bypass her wards last month. A smile played on her lips as she reached for the surprisingly still-fresh brew. She rolled from her bed, heading downstairs for breakfast. It was early, and with any luck, she could grab a meal and make it back to the girls' showers before the morning rush.
Pausing at the entrance of the Great Hall, Hermione was taken aback to see Harry and Ron already seated at the Gryffindor table. They were never up this early. She hesitated, considering her options. Ron had been slowly warming up to her lately, though they were far from being best friends again.
Plus, she hadn't had a chance to talk to Harry since the news about Blaise and Ginny broke. She felt another pair of eyes on her, gray ones this time. Glancing over, she met Draco’s stare, along with Blaise and Theo, all sitting at the Slytherin table. His eyes lingered on her, and she offered a small smile, which he returned.
Walking down the length of the house table, she made her way to Ron and Harry, taking a seat opposite them.
"Morning, you're both up early," she greeted them.
"Apparently this was the only time Ginny could book the pitch for practice, in freezing cold weather, at eight in the morning," Ron replied with a yawn, shoveling a piece of toast into his mouth.
"She said it was the only time open," Harry growled.
"And how are you?" Hermione asked Harry, feeling a bit shy.
"Fantastic," Harry replied curtly, clearly not in the mood. It seemed like it was going to be a touchy table to be at this morning,
Ginny appeared at Hermione's side moments later, in her full Quidditch gear, and both Ron and Harry's eyes immediately turned to her.
"Harry, do you have a moment to chat before practice?"
"You know, I actually would like to have a word with you too," Ron interjected, and Hermione couldn't help but let out an exasperated huff.
"Later, because I want a word with you," Ginny snapped back, and Harry looked up at her before glancing past her toward the Slytherin table. Hermione followed his eyeline, finding all three boys staring over at them, Blaise's eyes locked on Harry’s.
"Will your boyfriend be staring the whole time?" Harry retorted quickly, and Ginny turned and rolled her eyes.
"No, we can go into the entrance hall?" Ginny suggested, clearly noticing Blaise's intense stare.
Harry didn't say anything, but he pushed up from the table, and Ginny nodded. He followed her out of the hall.
Harry and Ginny left, Hermione became increasingly aware that she was now sitting alone at the table with Ron, something that hadn't happened in months, she felt herself shifting uncomfortably as Ron simply drank his pumpkin juice. She could almost feel the burning rays of eyes on the back of her head.
"He's actually really nice to her," Hermione ventured into the tense silence.
"What?" Ron asked, his tone slightly incredulous.
"Zabini... he's really nice to Ginny, he treats her really well," she continued awkwardly.
"Yeah, well, he gives me the creeps, they all do, Malfoy, Zabini, Nott," Ron persisted.
"You can't protect her forever, Ron. She's going to make her own choices," Hermione explained gently.
"Even if they are the wrong ones," Ron muttered, his expression still unreadable.
"You've never made the wrong choice before?" Hermione replied softly, trying hard to reconnect, and finally, his eyes met hers, vivid blue.
"I almost forgot who I was talking to for a minute," he smirked back at her, and for a moment, it felt normal.
"You know, I get to try out that new keeper's helmet you got me today, the only upside of having to play in this shit," he laughed, and Hermione found herself joining in with a small laugh.
"Good... you really can't handle any more blows to the head," she teased, and they both shared a moment of laughter.
"Weasley?" a voice came from behind Hermione, and Ron's face seemed to both drop and light up at the same time, a strange reaction that caught Hermione's attention. She recognized the haughty tone immediately.
"Can you take the parchment that has our hint on it for tonight?" Pansy was leaning over Hermione's shoulder, and Hermione couldn't help but notice the pleasant scent emanating from her, and the same bracelet Ginny had noticed still dangling from her wrist.
"Uh, yeah, alright. Why?" Ron replied, clearly flustered.
"I'm going to be busy and won't have time to head back to my room before the hunt to grab it," Pansy explained quickly.
"You can't just keep it in your pocket?" Ron gulped, and Hermione sat silently as she felt Pansy let out a sigh.
"I won't have any pockets on me," Pansy said, slightly annoyed.
"Oh...OH….okay. Right," Ron said quickly, his reaction striking Hermione as odd.
"Where... um, where did you want to meet again?" Ron cleared his throat.
"The usual spot," Pansy replied briskly before turning around, her shoes clicking on the ground as she walked away.
Hermione twisted in her seat and couldn't help but notice Draco's eyes fixed on hers, his jaw twitching, his expression unreadable. Pansy quickly sat down beside Theo, who glanced up at Hermione and gave her a small wink.
"You and Parkinson seem to get along alright. Do you think you're ready for it?" Hermione turned back towards Ron, noting the 360-degree contrast from where Ron had been at the beginning of the year, back then Hermione had practically begged Ron to even talk to Pansy.
"Ready? Uh, ready for what?" Ron's face turned bright red, an interesting reaction.
"Your third hunt," Hermione clarified, giving him a questioning look.
"Right. Yeah, I'm sure we'll be fine. I should, uh, probably get going, 'Mione, chat later, alright?" Ron said, getting up very quickly, his face still red, and she simply nodded. They had made some progress, though Hermione wasn't exactly sure where.
She left the Great Hall shortly after, noticing that all the eighth-year Slytherins had vanished. Hermione stood for a moment, looking up at the current timesheet. Zabini and Ginny's names had dropped, indicating they had been one of the first teams to go.
Curious, she wondered where Ron and Parkinson would fall after tonight. She wanted her and Draco to maintain their top spot.
- Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger – 37 minutes and 40 seconds
- Dean Thomas and Justin Finch-Fletchy – 42 minutes and 12 seconds
- Ronald Weasley and Pansy Parkinson – 44 minutes and 28 seconds
- Theodore Nott and Harry Potter – 44 minutes and 37 seconds
- Daphne Greengrass and Neville Longbottom – 47 minutes and 21 seconds.
"Excuse me? Hermione Granger?" the voice came from behind her as she stood in the entrance hall. She didn't recognize it—a shorter girl with long platinum blonde hair and striking blue eyes, pretty and wearing Slytherin school robes.
"Ah, yes?" Hermione turned to face her, noticing two other sixth-year Slytherin girls standing a little way behind, watching the encounter.
"I have to ask... where did you get your earrings?.. I'm Astoria Greengrass, by the way," she smiled, though it seemed forced, and she didn't offer her hand for a shake.
"Right... ah, they were a gift, a family heirloom," Hermione stuttered, the same way she did when Pansy asked her. What was with Slytherins and emeralds?
"So they're Muggle?" Astoria questioned, her tone grating on Hermione nerves.
"Maybe... I don't know, why?" Hermione snapped back.
"They just look an awful lot like the Gems of Endor..." Astoria said almost under her breath.
"Gems of Endor? I don't know what those are," Hermione replied, her voice becoming more direct by the moment.
"No... you wouldn't, being Muggle-born and all... Anyway, they're great knock-offs, Granger, for a moment there I almost believed the rumors," Astoria smirked back, in the iciest face Hermione had seen on another since Pansy Parkinson, and quickly turned on her feet toward the girls waiting for her by the entrance hall. Hermione heard Astoria address her friends.
"It's not them... some Muggle gem apparently... I told you!" she snapped at the one girl who had a long gaunt face with black hair, and the girls walked off together quickly.
Hermione stood baffled at what the hell just happened, what are the Gems of Endor? She had a sneaky suspicion that Draco knew, and that Parkinson had known.
Hermione pivoted and instead of heading back to her dorm, walked straight to the library to pull any book she could find on jewelry or gems.
"You didn't wear the costume!" Pansy said in a huffy voice as she pulled her skirt back on.
She had fulfilled her promise. When he went to look for her that night, he found her tucked behind an alcove, definitely not wearing anything that came with pockets.
He quickly cast a silencing charm, living out one of his favorite fantasies about his damsel in distress.
"I couldn't have walked around the school in that, plus we have our hunt in 10 minutes," he shot back, and she just rolled her eyes as she untucked her hair from her blouse.
They both stepped out from behind the tapestry, Ron quickly scanning the halls to ensure nobody had seen them. He had just shagged Parkinson up against a cold brick wall, lost in pleasure and oblivious to any passersby, he figured he check to see if they had accidentally captured an audience.
"You and Granger seemed cozy today at breakfast. Patching things up, are we?" Pansy asked quickly, her tone flat but still giving Ron a little jolt. Was this jealousy? Or just Pansy being her nosy self?
"It was the first time we spoke without Harry or Gin since the night of our breakup. It was awkward at first, we still haven't really talked about any of the real issues," he answered, keeping his tone factual.
"And once you do, you think you'll work them out?" Pansy pressed
What was she getting at? Was she trying to ask if he wanted Hermione back?
"I hope so. She's been my friend my whole life, regardless of how angry I am at her. It's tough not having her around," he admitted, unsure if that was the right thing to say.
"Right," she said quickly, and he noticed her hand twisting the bracelet he got her. He felt a pang of nervousness, fearing he had just messed something up.
"Are you asking if I still want her back? Like as a girlfriend?" he asked cautiously.
"No, why would I care?" she snapped in response.
"I don't know, that's why I'm asking," he continued lightly, trying to diffuse the tension.
He did want her to care, but he couldn’t let her know that he wanted her to care. It was a delicate balance between revealing his feelings and maintaining a casual demeanor.
"Forget I even asked, Weasley," she said curtly, ending the conversation.
Casual.
She had always said casual. Why was she asking about Hermione and him? As if this weren't casual. As if she might want more.
He couldn't come right out and say, "Parkinson, the only person I want is you." If she wasn't on the same page, it would drive her away. Yet he felt like he was missing something here.
He was bloody awful at this.
"You still have the parchment?" she asked, her tone changing, and Ron knew he had definitely done something wrong. She stood a little away from him, her hand held out, those long red nails catching his attention.
"Yup, now we wait," he said lightly again, scratching the back of his head as he tried to figure out what the hell was going on and if this would affect their next hour.
Pansy stood, tapping her foot into the silence as the parchment unraveled in his hand, lighting up with the golden cursive fading into black, the parchment waving into the air.
“Amidst darkness deep, the light's your guide,
Confront your fears, take them in stride.
Ponder paths untaken, you'll see,
What could've been, devoid of choices made by thee.”
They barely had enough time to read through the writing twice before the little piece of paper ignited into a fiery ball and floated mid-air, moving in the direction of the dungeons.
"I guess the light is our guide," Pansy shrugged and walked in front of him, her arms crossed.
"Parkinson, are you alright?" he asked tentatively.
"Of course, I'm alright. Let's just focus on following this little ball of fire to Merlin knows where," she spat back, and they silently descended deeper into the castle.
The halls and dungeons became almost unrecognizable as they kept moving. It felt like they had been going down for almost ten minutes before he finally got the courage to ask.
"Do you have any idea where we are?"
"We passed the Slytherin Common Room, three floors ago. I've never seen this route before," she replied, her voice no longer edged but filled with uneasiness.
They kept following until the rolling ball of flames flew down, bouncing in between small metal bars of a heavy grate lodged into the stone floor.
"Oh, for fuck’s sake, we have to go down there?" Pansy looked over at him, and he grimaced, kneeling down with his hands between the bars. The grate was heavy, but it moved easily enough as he pulled the top off, the orb moving down what seemed like a tunnel at the bottom of the hole in the ground.
"I'll go down first, and I can catch you after, alright?" he looked back up at her, and she flicked her lashes.
"Alright," she replied, her arms crossed.
It was pitch black beside the fireball up ahead dancing down the tunnel. He yelled up to Pansy as he steadied his feet, feeling a small puddle of water under him. The entire tunnel felt wet as he grabbed her waist and lifted her the rest of the way down, relishing the extra moments his hand got to spend on the pieces of exposed skin. But she quickly wriggled away from him after he set her down.
"Lumos,"
They walked quickly toward the light, realizing they had wasted too much time already following the flame down this deep. It was time to quicken the pace.
Ron noticed an opening ahead, where dim light shone through, and he felt himself move forward faster. As the opening loomed, they stepped into a darkly lit, cavernous room, and a wave of familiarity washed over him.
He had been here before, a very long time ago, but he still recognized the room, recognized the smell. The massive chessboard that McGonagall had set to guard the Philosopher's Stone, the smashed pieces now covered in a thick layer of dust and cobwebs. It was a surreal experience to revisit this place, where his journey had begun all those years ago.
"Bloody hell, this is still here," Ron heard himself say out loud as he looked toward the chess pieces. They had seemed so much larger when he was eleven.
"What do you mean, you've been here before?" Pansy retorted quickly.
"Yeah... in the first year... this was one of the guarding chambers that hid the Philosopher's Stone. I didn't make it past this room... look, I think that's still my blood," Ron said, pointing to a small dried crimson pool by a smashed knight. "I can't believe Dumbledore just left it here," he finished in disbelief.
"Really? You can't believe that? I know you Gryffindors worshipped the man, but who hides a dangerous and valuable item in a school and then sets a labyrinth full of murderous charmed objects to keep it safe?" Pansy sneered, her tone reminiscent of Malfoy, which Ron hated.
But Ron didn't really have much of a retort; honestly, she was sort of right.
"I've never been further. If Hermione told it right, there should be another door where the light is floating toward," Ron said, moving across the board, uneasily stepping by the knight that had knocked him off his horse almost eight years ago.
The light hovered by a massive oaken doorway and Ron pushed it open. But the entire room was cast in a darkness reminiscent of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder; his Lumos could barely make out what was in front of them.
He grabbed Pansy's hand to ensure she was still beside him, feeling her grip momentarily slip before firming up as the door slammed behind them. He felt her body move a step ahead of his, and then he heard the sound, a sound that he hadn't heard in almost a year: oafish.
"Parkinson, finally come to solidify that marriage contract? We could consummate it before it's even signed," the voice taunted from the shadows, and he heard Pansy's voice hitch.
"No... no, it can't be real," she stuttered, and like a ghost, Vincent Crabbe stepped into Pansy's wand light. Ron immediately threw her back behind him.
"Didn’t you already die?!" Ron yelled, about to raise his wand, but the figure shifted, contorted, and spun in the air, and suddenly, Aragog was planted in front of them, giant and furry, exactly like he had remembered.
"What the fuck!" he yelled stumbling back and Parkinson clung to his arm, her wand suddenly raised and her voice clear and direct.
"Riddikulus,"
Aragog shifted. He was wearing a little hat, and a bowtie, and all his legs were now on skates, exactly like Lupin’s DADA class in his third year. It was a bloody boggart.
How the hell was he still more terrified of Acromantulas than anything else he had seen?
He'd have to reevaluate himself on that. Pansy let out a small laugh, which developed into a larger one as the spider slid around on the floor and vanished in a loud pop.
"Really, Weasley? You've faced the Dark Lord, and some of the most heinous Death Eaters in his ranks, and you're still more scared of giant spiders," she laughed, her laughter feeling good in the darkness of the room. The ball of flame reappeared, and the obsidian surrounding them seemed to ease.
"I told you... that was traumatic," he huffed, knowing she was definitely right. It was pathetic.
Pansy began to walk ahead, and he reached out for her wrist, grasping it in his hand and turning her toward him.
"Are you still scared of Crabbe or a forced marriage?" he asked quickly.
"We don't have time to get into that right now," she gulped, locking eyes with his, her iris darting back and forth.
"Parkinson." he insisted.
"Of course, I am. Greengrass said her mother has begun courting her again. It's only a matter of time before my mother begins too. She may have stepped back after Theo and the Battle, but I don't think I've gotten off that easy," she snapped back, releasing herself from his grip and moving toward the light, opening the door in front of them as a blinding force of hundreds of torches shined in their eyes.
The statement made his stomach lurch. He didn't want to think of the idea of not being able to be close to her anymore or watching her in a loveless, forced marriage.
Hundreds of flaming torches were hung on the walls of the chamber room, casting a scorching glow. It was similar to what Harry had described, what he had pictured. Pansy walked a few feet from him, her skin almost bronze in the light that danced around her. They descended down large stone steps to where a singular massive golden-framed mirror sat.
"That can't be the Mirror of Erised," he whispered to himself, the crackling of flames drowning him out. It definitely wasn't, but it looked so similar.
Pansy's body reflected back at them first before Ron moved to see his own reflection.
Immediately, the reflections both dissolved and two small potion bottles appeared where the reflective glass had been. Pansy reached out her hand tentatively, her fingers hovering just inches from the glass. Ron watched with bated breath as her hand disappeared into the mirror, vanishing into the depths beyond.
Without hesitation, Ron followed suit, extending his own body toward the mirror. He felt a strange sensation as he passed through the surface as if he was crossing some invisible threshold into another world.
"Unlock the secrets of roads unseen, only one choice reveals what might have been," Pansy read from a piece of parchment amidst the bottles.
"We have to drink these?" he exclaimed in shock.
"What else would we do with them?"
"Fucking hell," he said, clinking the bottom of her potion and guzzling it down.
The taste was horrendous, like dirt and slugs.
Pansy set down her bottle, the room began to shake and reverberate, their surroundings shifting as they grabbed onto each other until Ron felt the air turn stagnant. The room around him felt familiar but darker, different.
He found himself staring into the drawing room at Malfoy Manor, at himself, beaten, bloody, chained. Voldemort loomed above him, flanked by Bellatrix Lestrange and Lucius Malfoy. A small body lay in the corner, dressed in dark, raggedy clothes, with black, unkempt hair.
Ron felt himself move closer, but Pansy's grip on his arm was deathly, and he remembered she was there, tucked behind him, as they watched.
It wasn’t real
"You killed him! You killed Harry!" he heard himself screaming on the floor, his voice hoarse and thick. Ron felt his eyes dart back over to the body in the corner.
"And what do you think will happen to you, blood traitor?" Bellatrix cackled.
"Enough, Bella..." Voldemort held up his hand to silence her.
"Mr. Weasley is of Pureblood, and half his family is on the run in the Order. We could use him," Voldemort hissed.
"Where's Hermione?!" the other chained Ron roared on the ground.
"HA! Look at how he cares for the little mudblood," Bellatrix cackled again, and Ron felt his real-time heartbeat rise, Pansy's nails digging into his arm.
"As a gift, I have given the mudblood to Draco to do with as he pleases. A thank you for bringing me Potter. Lucius, you have a gracious son. He will do well," Voldemort hissed again.
"Please... let me see her," the Ron on the ground begged.
"And what will you do for me in return?" Voldemort hissed again.
Like a smoke screen, the scene vanished, and he and Pansy found themselves standing in the cellar he remembered from the smell alone; dank.
The other Ron was on his knees, white-blond hair stood by the doorway—it was Malfoy, staring down at him kneeling on the stone floor.
Draco’s face was hard, his jaw tense, his wand tight in his hand, as Ron watched himself move closer to a bruised and battered Hermione, slumped against a stone column.
“Harry... he’s?” she cried, and the other Ron cupped her face in his hands.
“Yeah, but you need to promise me... promise me, Hermione, that you’ll stay alive,” Ron watched himself beg, feeling his veins on fire. Her face looked so broken, he looked so broken, as Draco Malfoy stood over them both, his face rigid.
“Ron... what... what are you doing?! Where are you going?” she was crying.
“Voldemort… he’s… he’s making me do an announcement to bring the remaining Order members in... it will air on Potterwatch channels... it’s our only chance,” he whispered to her.
“No. Ronald. No!” she said in a breathy sob.
“Listen to me... I love you, do whatever you can to stay alive, and maybe I’ll see you in the next one?”
Ron watched, his body filling with overwhelming emotion as he watched himself and Hermione; watched himself press a kiss on her lips, and he felt the warmth of Pansy’s grasp loosen.
“Let’s go, Weasley,” Draco moved to grab his arm, and the other Ron just stared down at Hermione as if it were for the last time, and the room vanished again as they could hear Hermione's screams echoing.
Ron and Pansy moved to a hallway; Draco had the other Ron latched into his grip.
“Are you happy with this, Malfoy?” Ron spat.
“What?” Draco stared daggers at the other Ron.
“Are you happy? Being Voldemort's lapdog... just like your father” he heard himself seethe.
“I’m happy that I get to keep Granger…that must drive you fucking mad,” Malfoy sneered.
Ron felt his body tense at the sneer, so reminiscent of the night of their breakup. Had Malfoy always harbored this obsession?
“Why do you want her anyway?” he watched the other Ron spit back, but Ron watched as he saw Malfoy shift uncomfortably, his stone face cracking slightly, then slipping back on.
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Draco dripped with arrogant disdain.
"If you don't always want to be a pawn, Malfoy, keep her alive... she's your only bloody hope now," as the other Ron turned to walk away.
"Weasley..." Draco said slower. "Don’t do anything stupid, I don’t want to be the one to tell her you’re dead," Draco continued, the first time Ron had ever seen any type of empathy or compassion on his face. It was strange.
The room dissolved into darkness once more, engulfing them in a chilling void. When the haze cleared, they stood amidst a throng of menacing figures, their sinister silhouettes illuminated by an eerie glow. Death Eaters.
Pansy's grip re-tightened around Ron's arm, her nails digging into his flesh as they both watched the horrifying spectacle unfolding before them.
Across the room, the other Ron was dragged forward, thrust onto a makeshift stage, when a towering microphone loomed overhead. Before he could comprehend the situation, a light flashed, and his doppelganger collapsed to the ground in agonizing convulsions. He had been hit with a Crucio.
Pansy pressed closer, he could feel her trembling against him, her breaths shallow and rapid.
With a steady hand, Ron reached out to intertwine his fingers with Pansy's. Beneath his touch, he felt the frantic rhythm of her heartbeat.
“Do it now,” the voice was Bellatrix's; the curse had been from her. He couldn’t tear his eyes away as he watched himself struggle back to his feet; his voice cracking again as he cleared it into the microphone.
“I’m Ronald Weasley. I’ve been taken alongside Harry Potter and Hermione Granger. The Dark Lord has won. Harry Potter is dead,” Ron heard his voice shake at the words. “I know the Order is still out there, my family is still out there. If you’re listening to this...” Ron watched himself pause and look around the room of faces. “If you’re listening to this, don’t stop fighting, don’t give up!” The crowd erupted in shouts of anger, but Ron's attention was fixed on his doppelganger. He felt a surge of pride mixed with fear as he watched the other Ron. “Percy, Lupin, Bill, if you’re listening... CHECK THE GHOUL!”
A green light flashed, and Ron heard Pansy's scream pierce the air. The other Ron crumpled to the ground, and Ron's heart seemed to stop.
He held onto Pansy tightly, and it felt like a blink, and he opened his eyes, assaulted again by the flickering torches, the massive mirror in front of them reflecting their bodies as the flames seemed to engulf them, leaving him feeling like he had just awoken from a nightmare, the wind knocked out of him.
“Your current state is a result of choices made. Life could be different if paths had strayed. - 32 minutes and 05 seconds.”
Then, he had actually had the wind knocked out of him, tiny fists were hitting his stomach as Pansy rounded on him, shouting.
"You idiot! You fucking idiot!" Tears were streaming down her face.
"Parkinson, what the hell! Stop! Stop!" he grabbed her two fists in his hands and shook her to look at him, and she sat there sobbing.
"I always make the joke... I always make the joke, the hero... always the fucking hero... but, Weasley, promise me you'll never do anything that stupid. You'll never just throw your life away. I know you want to be an Auror, and fight dark wizards and all, but don't be stupid. You don't always have to be..." she sobbed again, and it hit him.
She had watched as he deliberately knew he was sacrificing himself to give the Order a chance. It was his contingency plan. He had left clues under the attic floorboard where the ghoul had lived in case something happened to him, in case something happened to Harry or Hermione. Someone else needed to know about the Horcruxes.
"I'm not going to die... I'm right here," he whispered to her as his breaths began to steady.
"Oh really? You're not going to throw yourself in front of an ‘Avada’ for some moronic cause," she retorted.
"I didn't plan on it," he smirked, putting his thumb under her chin. "I didn't think I'd see the day that Pansy Parkinson would be so heartbroken at the thought of my death," he added.
"I'm not... but I'm sure Granger would be," she sniffed, trying to collect herself, and he knew exactly what she was getting at.
They had witnessed himself pressing a kiss to Hermione's lips and declaring his love for her, a sudden wave of realization crashed over him.
Ron couldn't deny that he loved Hermione, but in that moment, he recognized that it wasn't all-consuming.
Watching Hermione, he had underestimated the depth of his feelings for her, he missed her as his friend. Ron realized that he could still walk away from her, leave her behind in that life, without feeling the devastating loss he imagined.
The thought of leaving Pansy behind, of abandoning her in any circumstance, filled Ron with a sense of unease he hadn't anticipated. He questioned whether he would possess the same strength, the same resolve if it were Pansy in Hermione's place.
He had always been willing to sacrifice himself for the greater good, to fight for the Order's cause with unwavering determination.
But as he stood there, staring at Pansy with newfound clarity it struck him like a lightning bolt. He would do anything to keep living if it meant he could live in the same life as Pansy.
"If that was you. I don't think I would have been able to walk away," Ron confessed.
"What are you talking about?" Pansy's voice trembled, tears still glistening in her eyes.
"If I had to choose between life and death, I don't believe I'd be strong enough to leave you behind. You'd make a coward of me, Parkinson," Ron admitted, as they sat on the stone floor, his body slick with sweat from the torches' heat and the agony of a future that never came to pass.
"You don't mean that," Pansy whispered
"I do, I know you said no strings... but I have all sorts of strings," Ron chuckled, a self-deprecating edge to his tone. "I'm bloody awful at this... I know I am, but all I can think about is you... all day, you're on my mind constantly, and it's not just the sex, although I do love that. I just want to wake up next to you,"
Her big eyes looked at him blinking in disbelief. “I guess we can add some strings...and I’ll spend the night too," Pansy smiled, her hand gripping his tightly as he helped her to her feet.
"You mean tonight, right?" Ron smirked, receiving a playful shove on his shoulder in response.
"Yes, or else I'll have nightmares," she said darkly, as they began to walk back the way they came, navigating through the darkness and over the marble chessboard toward the tunnel.
"Weasley, you understand that none of that happened because Draco didn't reveal it was Potter that day at the Manor," she added casually, just as they stepped out of the dark room where the boggart had been.
The sentence caught him off guard, the thought had crossed his mind, but he didn't let it fester.
"That doesn't mean I should automatically forgive him for everything else he's done," Ron added firmly.
"No, but it's something to consider,"
Chapter 34: Death Eater Draco
Chapter Text
Hermione had been holed up in the library all day, and as evening approached, it was clear she had lost track of time. She had missed lunch, and now she had missed dinner as well, disregarding her classes.
She was on a mission, scouring through books on gems, jewelry, and family heirlooms, but her efforts yielded little on The Gems of Endor. They were barely mentioned, mere footnotes in other texts never divulging what or where they were. Frustration bubbled within her as she found herself hitting dead end after dead end.
She considered asking Parkinson for information; she suspected Pansy might know something. But that would be just as bad as asking Draco. Hermione refused to resort to that.
Seated at her workstation, surrounded by piles of books, Hermione felt defeated. But she refused to let this setback deter her. Just as she was about to delve into one of her larger volumes on magical gemstones again, Astoria's snide voice echoed in her mind.
"No... you wouldn't, being Muggle-born and all…"
She realized she had been looking in the wrong place all along.
‘Fucking hell’ she could have almost slapped herself in the forehead on the idiotic move.
She needed to consult a book she had only heard about but never cared to open. She quickly made her way to the Restricted Section, the moon now high in the sky outside the windows.
After searching some of the deepest corners, covered in dust and cobwebs, she found the book she sought: The Pureblood Directory
She cautiously pulled the book off the shelf and settled against it on the ground. Her eyes scanned the first few chapters: Abbott, Avery, Black... The chapter on the Black family was particularly long, but the book seemed to trigger a wave of anxiety within her, as if she were an outsider to its contents, as though touching it was somehow forbidden.
Skimming each page in search of any mention of the Gems. After passing through the MacMillians, she reached the section on the Malfoy family. Her hand hesitated over the page, but she pressed on, heart pounding with anticipation it’s all she could hear.
She turned the pages, and it found her. A detailed sketch that nearly made her gasp. It was an exact replica of the jewelry she wore around her neck and ears. Beneath the drawing were the words "Gems of Endor,"
"In the earliest centuries of the Malfoy family's arrival in Britain, Armand Malfoy journeyed to the shores alongside William the Conqueror, bringing with him the sacred Gems of Endor. These gems, once owned by the biblical witch of Endor, have become a crucial part of a courting ritual practiced by Malfoy men for centuries. Believed to possess protective powers for the wearer, as well as the ability to track the wearer's movements for the benefit of the Malfoy suitor, the Gems of Endor also hold additional magical properties that enhance the wearer's own magical abilities. Even today, they remain highly sought-after jewels, their worth priceless.”
She read it once, then again, unable to tear her eyes away. Courting gems? The witch of Endor? Protective powers, and fucking tracking abilities—did Malfoy realize what he had given her?
Of course he did. Draco was calculated; he knew exactly what these were.
A maelstrom of emotions swept over her—confusion, rage, then confusion again. Why had he given those to her? The anxiety sat crashed in her stomach, threatening to make her sick, while her head spun.
Draco hadn’t been truthful. How much more was he keeping from her? She felt a stab of betrayal. Why couldn't he just tell her what this gift meant to him?
With a frustrated grunt, she slammed the book shut and thrust it back into its place among the stacks, feeling her body temperature rise. Lost in a whirlwind, she couldn't even gauge the time it had to have been past midnight, how long she'd been there? Her head felt heavy, thoughts swirling.
What if she stayed here indefinitely? All night? How long would it take for him to find her? He would know her whereabouts; after all, he was tracking her.
Hermione sat on the floor for hours, attempting to digest what had just happened. She was exhausted; her brain felt like mush, as if her magic had been drained. At some point, her eyes must have closed, and her dreams were filled with whispers of Draco, swirling thoughts of jewelry. She found herself back in the vaults at Gringotts, drowning in jewels, only this time the vault belonged to Malfoy. Suddenly, she woke up to her head slamming against the hard wood floor.
It took what felt like the last of her energy to pull herself off the ground of the restricted section. Emerging into the light of the main library, it must have been early morning judging by the way the sun reflected off the windows.
Hot blood in her veins pumping her steps as the rage filtered back in, pushing the confusion aside she nearly ran from the library, each pulse seemed to reverberate through the emeralds, as if she could suddenly feel the power coursing through them. She knew it was all in her head, but it felt real.
Swinging open the Common Room door, she found it nearly empty. Without hesitation, she lunged towards the door with his name above it, bypassing any thought of knocking. She dismantled the wards and barged in, only to find it empty. The faint scent of his cologne lingered in the air, and the room was dark.
Another surge of hot blood rushed to her brain, propelling her into motion once more.
Fucking Malfoy. Why was he lying to her? What game was he playing? She felt foolish, repeatedly placing her trust in him, only to be met with deceit.
Did he truly believe he could casually gift her courting gems as if they were mere trinkets? Pretending they were just some jewelry he had picked up from a shop in Diagon Alley? Even that would be too much, but these were ancient, priceless. Hidden away in the vaults of Gringotts since Lucius gave them to Narcissa.
The Great Hall bustled with activity as she darted past the Gryffindor table. She barely had time to glance around for Harry or Ron, but she doubted they were there this early.
Her feet guided her towards the white-blond figure at the far end of the Slytherin table, engaged in casual laughter with Theo and Blaise. Seeing his face only intensified the flush in her cheeks, and before she knew it, she stood towering over him where he sat.
"Granger, are you having breakfast with us?" Theo turned quickly, but Draco's gaze remained fixed on her, his expression turning to stone as he recognized the tension on Hermione's face.
"What? No," she replied hastily, barely registering his tone.
"What's going on?" Draco's voice deepened with concern.
"I need to speak with you... preferably alone," she snapped.
"Is everything alright? Are you alright?" Draco quickly got up
Hermione didn't acknowledge the question. She simply pivoted on her heels and stomped towards the entrance hall. She knew she probably looked disheveled—her hair bushy, having not showered or looked in the mirror since yesterday morning.
She turned into a small alcove, away from the flow of students coming and going from the Great Hall, and Draco appeared within seconds.
"Is it Weasley? I saw you two yesterday morning, then you disappeared for the rest of the day. If he said something to you, I'll fucking kill him," Draco growled.
"Draco, what are the Gems of Endor?" she said coolly, arms crossed, watching him stiffen as his jaw twitched and his eyes darted to her earrings.
He cleared his throat.
"Why are you asking? You obviously already know," he replied stiffly.
"I want to hear you say it. Are these them?" she said, grasping one earring in her hand.
"Yes, those are the Gems of Endor.. Is that why you’re upset?” he asked still cool.
"Is that why I am upset? Draco, these are courting jewels. They have protective magic and fucking tracking abilities. They're supposed to be passed down in your family for generations. What is this? Some game to you? Some way of sticking it to your family, to your father, by giving me these?" Hermione heard herself say it and knew she had pushed too far, but she needed to know. These were meant to remain in a Pureblood household, and she felt like a fraud wearing them.
His eyes darkened into a storm.
"Is that what you think? This is some fucking way to get back at my family? Like I'm a boy rebelling?"
"I don't know, Draco. We haven't even discussed what this is. Our relationship is still a secret... nobody even knows we are more than partners, yet you gave me a gift you'd give to a woman you'd want to court?" Hermione pushed.
"And whose fault is it that this is a secret? I told you, Granger, I'm not afraid of what people say. You are." he rounded back on her.
"You have no right to lecture me about keeping secrets. How many do you keep from me?" she spun around, confronting him.
"I was doing it for your own good, Granger. You don't need to know everything, be in control of everything."
"My own good? Malfoy, you're fucking tracking me?"
"And it's not warranted? There are still loads of Death Eaters on the loose, and you're still a target. The war may have ended, but not for everyone. Trust me," he urged.
"Trust you? Trust you?" she felt her eyes tear up.
"You’ve never actually asked…. I’m supposed to just divulge the information when you haven’t asked for it?" he retorted.
She couldn't believe the audacity of it, that he was trying to evade responsibility on a technicality.
"Who all knows about these gems? Who all knows about us besides Harry and Ginny?" The question she had danced around for ages, and she watched as he huffed.
"Theo, Blaise, and Pansy," Draco admitted.
"So, Parkinson does know? Draco, you told me she didn't? Another lie!” she rounded on him.
"No... you said that Parkinson complimented your jewelry. You never once asked me if she knew. And who cares if she knows, Granger? She's not going to tell your precious little Weasel if that's what this is really about," Draco snapped.
"Don't! Don't you try to make this about Ron!"
"Isn't it? Isn't that the entire reason why we are still hiding this? I told you, and I'll tell you again, I want you. That's why I gave you the jewelry. I wanted you to have them, not anyone else," he countered.
"You could have told me what they meant to you?" she breathed back quietly.
Draco just stood in front of her, rigid, unmoving. His eyes gave her nothing, and she knew there was more, knew he still kept darker secrets.
“’ MIONE!" The voice boomed from the entrance hall, and she recognized it immediately—it was Ron. His eyes looked wild, and his hair was tousled as if he had barely slept. As he made his way toward her, she almost stepped back, but there was something strange about his expression—not angry, but almost thankful or happy. She couldn’t quite place it.
She glanced back at Draco, whose eyes narrowed and nostrils flared as he glared at Ron approaching.
"What is it, Ron?" she snapped a little harsher than she intended.
He enveloped her in a massive hug, squeezing her tight. Her eyes went wide; she didn’t even embrace back, and Draco's face looked murderous.
"Ronald... are you ill?" Hermione pushed.
"No... why? I just... I just needed to make sure you're here... you're alright. Have you seen Harry?" Ron pulled back, as if he didn’t even notice Draco. He must have been ill, or the events of last night's hunt were worse than she thought.
"I'll leave you two to rekindle whatever the fuck this is," Draco said scathingly as he pushed past Ron, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles were white.
Hermione's heart dropped to her stomach. She still felt the rage, the annoyance, the distrust, but seeing the way Draco looked at her when Ron hugged her, thinking he was the reason she wasn’t allowing them to be public.
Fuck.
"Malfoy!" Ron bellowed after Draco, and Hermione tensed, waiting for the altercation, while Draco's head snapped back, ready.
"Ah... thanks," Ron said in a very low breath, kind of stuttering, and Hermione looked up in complete shock. 'Thanks?' Thanks for what? Ron must have lost it.
Draco raised his eyebrows in suspicion, his eyes darting between Hermione and Ron, searching.
"Thanks? For what?" Draco sneered back.
"For not giving up Harry last year. I've never said it. Thanks for not being a complete monster," Ron said, his tone strained.
"Alright," Draco snapped back, his voice low, matching Ron's. He scrunched his face in a grimace, eyeing Ron up and down as if this had to have been a sicker joke, then turned and sauntered up the staircase, never looking back.
"Ron, are you sure you're not ill? Is everything alright?" Hermione spun around, placing her palm on his forehead.
"I'm fine, 'Mione... are you? You look dreadful," he said, eyeing her appearance.
"Ah, yeah. I'm alright," she brushed it off, though it was an absolute lie; she was anything but alright.
"Have you seen Harry?" he asked again, and Hermione shook her head.
"I'll go find him... 'Mione, good luck tonight," Ron finished as he began to walk back to the hall.
She had forgotten; she and Draco had their hunt later tonight. She was exhausted, barely slept, barely ate, and she was positive Draco absolutely resented her, and she kind of resented him.
Her eyes couldn’t help but wander over to the Scavenger Hunt standings as more partners went. What had Ron and Pansy’s time been? He was acting too strange for her nervousness not to creep in.
- Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger – 37 minutes and 40 seconds
- Theodore Nott and Harry Potter – 44 minutes and 37 seconds
- Blaise Zabini and Ginerva Weasley - 1 hour 14 minutes 15 seconds
- Ronald Weasley and Pansy Parkinson – 1 hour 16 minutes 17 seconds
- Ernie MacMillian and Luna Lovegood - 1 hour 25 minutes 27 seconds
Draco slammed his door, his fists hurting from clenching them so hard. He hated seeing how comfortable Weasley still was with her, the way he moved effortlessly in the open, in public, getting to hold her, and nobody would bat a bloody eye at it.
And why the hell did he thank him? The Hunt last night must have been seriously messed up if it got Ronald Weasley to thank him. Mind you, it was barely a thank you—Weasley still managed to slip in an insult somewhere. But Draco needed to ask Parkinson what to expect.
Granger and him were already in an unknown area, and if this was going to be a challenging night, he needed to prepare mentally as well. He hadn’t practiced Occlumency in a while, and his mental barriers needed to be strong.
She was angry with him, and there was still a lot he was holding back. Today wasn’t going to be the day he let it all fall apart.
Should he have told her about the Gems? Maybe. But he was right; it was for her own good. Why couldn’t she see that? Any other witch in the castle, pre-war, would have fawned over the idea.
But not Granger. Never Granger.
She was still wearing the jewels; that was a good sign. He needed to know how she found out, if there was a weak link.
Parkinson.
Draco was at her door in moments, knocking loudly. He didn’t think he had actually stepped foot in it all year, as Pansy swung open the door, her signature scent wafting out, and Draco pushed past her.
“Oh, lovely to see you as well,” she snapped, and he looked around. Her bed was made, the place was tidy, like she had barely been there at all.
“What happened last night? Weasley is acting weird this morning, and Granger knows about the Gems?” Draco began quickly. Pansy’s face looked steely.
“You and I both know I can’t talk about last night…... and about the gems all I know is that Astoria and her cronies questioned Granger about them yesterday... like I told you, someone would recognize. But the rumor now is that they are just some cheap Muggle knockoffs. I’m assuming she figured it out... leave it to Granger to not let a subject go,” Pansy replied.
Fucking Greengrass’s, desperate to ruin his life, one sister at a time.
He turned his attention back to Pansy.
"And Weasley? You’re really not going to tell me what that’s all about?" he pushed back, his tone tinged with frustration.
“I can’t! Just know... tonight, especially for you and Granger... it’s not going to be an easy one,” Pansy said softly, putting her hand on his shoulder gently, offering comfort.
“Fucking hell” he muttered, nodding. “She’s already pissed about the fucking gemstones,” he huffed.
"Well, my dear, that one’s on you— stupid move just to try and claim her in your own weird possessive way,” Pansy sneered,
“Thanks for the reminder,” he grimaced.
“Draco, whatever happens tonight. You’re not a bad person.” Pansy said, her eyes watering slightly.
If she thought she was being helpful or reassuring, she wasn’t. If anything, she was making it extremely worse.
Dread filled the rest of the day, which was pathetic considering he had faced unimaginable evils that would have shattered the average person. But the feeling of dread he got when he thought about their hunt, about facing Hermione who’s trust in him was hanging by a small thread, made the day feel like it was ticking by at a flobberworm's pace.
Whatever they were about to deal with tonight, he was sure it wasn’t going to win him any favors. He had been lucky for too long, and it was about to run out.
They hadn’t spoken since outside of the Great Hall. Draco tried to give her some space, even though it was killing him. He reluctantly did it anyway. He got to their meeting spot ten minutes early; she had been hard on him before for showing up casually on time, and he wasn’t in the mood to push her further. However, when he showed up, she was already there.
“Granger.”
“Malfoy.”
She was using his surname again. He’d give anything to hear Draco off her tongue.
“We need to beat 36 minutes. I saw Ginny and Zabini’s time this morning,” she answered coldly.
“Right,” he said, taking a deep breath.
Fuck, he wanted to die on the spot.
“I don’t know what was up with Ron this morning... we haven’t...” she cleared her throat. “We haven’t really talked all that much. I don’t know where that hug came from,” she said quickly, her tone still stiff.
“I’m going to assume we are about to find out,” he looked her up and down. She looked better, slightly more rested but still with bags under her eyes; she clearly had been up almost all night, and he blamed himself for that.
She looked down at the piece of parchment that was clutched between her fingers, and Draco noticed the glitter of the emeralds still in her ears, and the chain tucked into her sweater—she was still wearing his gift. A good sign. He’d take these wins.
The scroll unraveled itself in her hand, the invisible quill was writing, and letters began to show up in glowing gold fading to black.
“Amidst darkness deep, the light's your guide,
Confront your fears, take them in stride.
Ponder paths untaken, you'll see,
What could've been, devoid of choices made by thee.”
He kept focusing on the devoid of choice made by thee, he re-read quickly, relaxing himself, bringing down his heart rate.
He needed to be Death Eater Draco, collected, calm, rigid—the mask he hadn’t slipped on in months. But to win this time, to ensure that he didn’t falter, he needed to perform at his best.
The paper erupted into a deep flaming ball of fire that suspended in the air, the flames reflecting in the dark light of Hermione’s eyes, as it began to float down the corridor.
Hermione glanced over to him, and he watched as shivers ran up and down her arms, goosebumps appearing.
Of course, her body would react like that right now, just when he needed his focus the most.
He moved his hand for her to lead the way, and they quietly followed the light, heading toward the dungeons. Twisting down the familiar stairs he had taken for years, it was a nostalgia he hadn’t expected as he went to walk past the hidden entrance of the Slytherin Common Room, of course, Hermione didn’t notice.
They delved deeper, past alcoves that he and Parkinson used to frequent in the fourth year. But at some point, they pivoted down a corridor that even he didn’t seem to remember.
“Do you have any idea where we are?” she asked quietly, and he was disappointed to tell her.
“No idea. I’ve never been down this far... I didn’t even know this corridor was here,” he answered, hands in his pockets. He could sense the tension on her as they kept moving, the unease. He was desperate to reach out to comfort her, to let her know she was safe with him, and it took all his physical willpower not to.
The ball of fire came to a halt, then dove down between a grate in the ground they hadn’t even noticed, bouncing merrily through the bars. Hermione bent on one knee and peered down.
“Wingardium Leviosa,” she snapped her wand at the metal bars of the grate, and the top blew off, the sound echoing through the corridor around them. She looked over to him and jumped down before he could even react.
“Granger!” he yelled as the top of her head vanished into the ground.
Fucking reckless, and she had the audacity to question him as to why he gave her protective jewelry? Fucking Gryffindors.
He jumped down after her.
“Do you mind telling me when you decide to jump down random holes in the ground without any double-checking?” he growled as his boots hit the dank wet floor of the pitch-black tunnel.
“I don’t need to worry, I have protective enchantments,” she smirked back sarcastically, pushing her hair back to show off her earrings, and he rolled his eyes at the jab.
They both lit their wand tips and continued to follow the fiery orb. The tunnel seemed to stretch long in front of them, the sounds of their breathing and footsteps echoing as dripping water seemed to be all around them. Up ahead, they could finally see the very dim light of what looked like an opening, and Hermione began to pick up her pace as they burst into a grandiose room.
It was filthy, looking like it hadn’t been touched in years. A smashed giant chess set lay scattered in the middle, and Hermione just froze.
“Oh my god… this is still here,” Hermione breathed.
“What is still here? You’ve been here before?” he questioned her.
“Yeah... McGonagall did this to guard the Philosopher’s Stone. If we keep following the orb over the chessboard, there is a smaller room; that one was Snape’s... I don’t know why they took us through that tunnel, there is another way in, but I can’t remember where anymore,” she said as they moved over the board. He felt as if the eyes of the pieces were watching him. He gripped his wand tighter.
“There… it’s as far Ron got, his blood, it’s still there. I made it through to the next room with Harry, but the two of us couldn’t go forward, so I came back and got Ron, and we made it out just as Dumbledore got back to the castle,” she continued, her eyes darting around.
“That was real? The first time Potter saw the Dark Lord?” Draco asked as they moved toward a large oak door that seemed firmly shut.
They were about to walk into a sinister place; he could feel it.
“It was the beginning of it all,” Hermione didn’t meet his eyes as he pushed open the heavy door, and instantly darkness took them in its grasp.
The door slammed shut, and he didn’t feel her behind him. His wand tip barely illuminated the way, and he felt ice in his veins as he moved forward, the cries hitting his ears like they did so often in his dreams.
“Granger! Where are you?” he shouted, and then he saw her on the floor in front of him, the only light in the room shining on her. She was writhing in pain, and panic shot through him. She was screeching as he watched blood spurt from her arm, letters being carved into her.
“Hermione!” he yelled, lunging forward toward her, but a hand grabbed his arm, pulling him back.
“Draco! I’m right here, I’m right here... it’s not real!” It was an angel’s voice; tightly gripping his arm.
Hermione moved herself in front of him, but the visions didn’t change. It was just her, writhing and screaming, the sound ringing in their ears. Draco moved faster, his brain finally catching up to his shock.
"Riddikulus," he shot from his wand tip, and the figure was thrown back.
It was Hermione still, but now she was sitting on the ground in a massive frilly ballgown, pink with glitter, looking like a cupcake. He let out a reluctant chuckle as he looked down at her, Hermione’s head shooting back around, eyes wild. She looked back at herself and laughed too, a small laugh, maybe forced, but it was enough. The boggart disappeared, the orb now reappearing in its place.
Her voice trembled, barely audible, as she uttered, "Your boggart... it's me?" Each word felt like a dagger plunging into his already shattered soul. As he reached for the last door, the orb ominously floated around.
"I told you..." He said, his voice steady. "Out of everything I've ever done, not saving you is the only thing that keeps me up at night... your screams, keep me up at night." He turned to face her, his eyes meeting hers, filled with tears threatening to spill over.
With a grunt, he pushed open the heavy door, stepping into a room that felt like stepping into the core of the sun; the walls blazed with hundreds of torches.
He felt her presence beside him as they walked down the colossal steps toward a golden mirror that sat at the base of the room.
They both moved into the reflection, Hermione’s body tucked closely behind his as the veil of the glass seemed to disappear, revealing two bottles that looked like they were in a hidden room inside the mirror.
Draco stepped forward, his wand still at the ready as he passed through the veil, a suspicious chill pulling over him, as if he had stepped into a world that was no longer his, a darker one. He reached out to help Hermione’s hand through, feeling the warmth of her palm on his.
"Unlock the secrets of roads unseen, only one choice reveals what might have been," Hermione read slowly, picking up both bottles and passing one to Draco who looked at the vial suspiciously.
It wasn’t a potion he could pick out from memory, and by the look on Hermione’s face, neither could she.
“We drink them?” It was both a question and a statement; they both knew the answer.
“Don’t hate me Granger...” he breathed deeply as he pressed the vial to his lips. He could see from the slits of his eyes Hermione doing the same.
The potion was revolting, tasting like blood and vanilla mixed in a way he couldn’t quite fathom.
But as they swallowed it down, a sense of dizziness overwhelmed him, and the world around him began to blur.
The room was pixelated at first, then came into stunning clarity. Hermione and Draco stood side by side, looking as if through a lens at another world. Draco took a steadying breath as he watched, hoping this scene wouldn’t materialize again, but it did.
Potter was on the floor, on his knees, his hair ripped back and face disfigured. Granger and Weasley were bound to snatchers, wriggling as Draco moved toward the Potter on the ground.
"Are you sure?" Bellatrix hissed greedily.
"It’s Potter," the other Draco said definitively, and Draco felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him.
What the fuck was this? Hermione moved closer to him.
"Ha! I’ll call him! We got Potter!" Bellatrix jumped with excitement, and Draco sensed Hermione shifting slightly behind him. He needed this vision, or whatever it was, to end.
"No... I identified Potter. I’ll call him," the other Draco snapped quickly, taking his aunt back. She stared at him with crazed eyes.
"Draco..." he heard his mother press, moving to the other Draco’s side, fear in her eyes.
"Mother, I’ll call him," he watched his doppelganger stand strong, ripping up the sleeve of his arm. Shouts and pleas from the struggling Hermione and Ron rang out as he watched himself press the tip of his wand to his forearm, the black serpent beginning to slither.
The room shook violently, the floor beneath them morphing rapidly. Draco found himself standing in a long field, now watching himself and Theo dressed in black robes, Death Eater masks in hand.
He felt a surge of strain; he didn't recall this memory. Was it something he had repressed? What the fuck was this world?
Hermione stood close to his side; her breath caught in her throat.
"Don't kill them if you can, and make sure to get the girl out," the other Draco instructed Theo.
"You're sure this is where they are?" Theo's cold tone mirrored his past self, one Draco hadn’t seen in a long time.
"I broke through Weasley's lousy Occlumency walls; they're here," the other Draco affirmed.
"And Potter... he's dead?”
"Potter's dead," the other Draco confirmed, prompting a small gasp from Hermione.
This hadn't happened.
This wasn’t real.
"Just get the girl out. Zabini would have our throats if anything happened to her," the other Draco declared darkly.
They both put on their masks and stormed into the small cottage, screams echoing and flashes of green light illuminating the windows. Moments passed in stunned silence as Draco and Hermione moved closer, Theo appearing just as they reached the cottage door with a half-conscious Ginny Weasley in his arms before Apparating on the spot. As Theo vanished, so did the scene before them.
The field turned to stone, and the air became stagnant as they moved to another flash, Hermione still close but not touching him, not speaking.
He wanted to reach out but as the vision materialized, he was looking down at another Granger, sitting against a stone wall, and he watched himself kneel down in front of her. She looked defeated, and something in him told him that he was too.
"Granger, I’m moving you out of here... You’re going to get a more comfortable space, your own room," the other Draco began but was cut off.
"Where’s Ron?" the other Hermione pleaded softly.
"Weasley’s dead," the other Draco said slowly, not unkindly. The other Hermione began to sob, her eyes so red Draco could no longer see the light in them.
"Then why am I still here? Just kill me, Malfoy." she sobbed, her voice filled with agony. It cut him down to his knees.
The image of Hermione on the ground, begging for death at his hand, felt like a sickening curse in Draco's chest.
"I’m not killing you, Granger. Weasley was a moron. He refused to play the Dark Lord's game. He was supposed to tell the Order to turn themselves in, but instead, he told them to keep fighting."
"Then why are you keeping me?" she asked dully as if she had given up.
"Because you’re going to help me," the other Draco said back.
"I’ll never fucking help you!" Hermione on the ground spat back, some of her ferocity returning.
"Before Weasley died… he told me you were my only hope. I never planned for him to die, and I’m not going to let you die. I’m done being a lapdog…. So, what does 'check the ghoul' mean?" he pressed, seeing the hate in her eyes. It shredded at his heart. How much longer did they need to watch this?
"I don’t know," Hermione snapped back.
"Don’t play stupid, Granger. You’re not very good at it. You’re going to need to learn to trust me. I’m the only person you have left."
"I’ll never trust you," the other Hermione seethed, and the ground crumpled again.
The world spun, the swirls of orange coming back into the greyness of the stone as Draco landed heavily onto the ground.
His eyes dilated, heavily blinking into the light of hundreds of torches.
They were back. But it didn’t mean it was over.
“Your current state is a result of choices made. Life could be different if paths had strayed. - 34 minutes and 45 seconds.”
Chapter 35: The Invitation
Chapter Text
Hermione stared at her reflection in the mirror, her mind racing to process what she had just witnessed, trying to make sense of it all.
The sickness in the pit of her stomach only grew as she grappled with the implications of what she had seen. It was a chilling glimpse into what could have been, a world of pain and despair.
The world where Harry had lost.
Draco. He was at the heart of it all. His silence, his indecision, had led them to this point. With one decisive choice, he could have changed everything about their existence.
Hermione felt overwhelmed. The anger she had felt towards him, about the gems around her neck, now seemed trivial compared to what she had just witnessed.
She barely recognized the Draco that she had just seen. The darkness that consumed him, his willingness to break free from being a mere pawn, to seize control in that alternate reality—it stirred guilt within her. The boy who had been forced into his mark had taken a stand to reclaim his agency.
She heard his movements beside her and looked up to see him shaking the dust off his clothing, his face tense as she met his eyes.
"Don't... don't look at me like that, Granger," he choked out the words.
"That wasn't real... that wasn't you," she pressed.
"Please... don't pretend just because of the last few months we've spent together; you suddenly know who I am. Do you realize how many times that scenario ran through my mind? How I considered doing exactly that the day you three were brought to the manor, but I hesitated, I choked! I remember cursing myself for not betraying Potter when I had the chance, while I was being tortured by the Dark Lord, when you escaped... Don't for a second think that I wouldn't have done what you just saw!" he rounded on her, his tone filled with venom.
"But you didn't! Regardless of why you hesitated, the fact remains that you hesitated, which means somewhere within you, you didn't want Harry to die," she spat back, her voice filled with frustration.
Despite his words, he hadn't turned Harry in, and she needed to believe that it wasn't entirely selfish.
"I hesitated to save my own skin, because if I had called the Dark Lord and it had been some trick, we all would have been punished. But it didn't matter, did it? I was punished anyway" he gulped
"Do you really believe that, or are you trying to convince me?" she stood her ground beside him.
Draco moved swiftly towards the doorway, and Hermione quickened her footsteps to keep up with him. His wand blasted the doors of the room where the boggart had been, and he disappeared into the darkness, only to blast off the second set of doors. Hermione ran after him, her heart pounding in her chest.
"You can't just walk away from this!" she yelled after him.
"Yes, I can, and so can you! We've had our fun but you still have a chance for redemption, a chance to pretend this didn’t happen. I don't, and I was a fucking wanker for ever thinking I could," he snapped, his long strides carrying him back over the shattered chessboard.
"Redemption? The war is over, and you were cleared of all charges. You're free to do whatever you want in this life," she argued.
"That makes me free? Huh, very funny coming from you! You're free to do whatever the hell you like, Granger, but you're still hiding the fact that you love having this ex-Death Eater between your legs..." he stopped abruptly, and Hermione's body almost collided with his as he turned to look down at her.
Hermione's body froze at his words, her breath catching in her throat.
"What? No uplifting retorts? Why not? Is it because you're ashamed of how fucking wet you get when you see my Dark Mark disappear under your skirt? How you twist and moan my name? The same name that you've hated your entire life?" he taunted, moving closer.
"Malfoy, stop it," she pushed back, sensing he was trying to push her away, trying to find any excuse to run from what he had witnessed, run from her.
"Hit a nerve? The Golden Girl has a filthy kink she wants to keep to herself?" he pushed even further. "You want me to get my Death Eater mask, tie you up like I did in the cellar? Is that what you're into, Granger? Because I can do that. Show you what I am.." he said darkly.
"Stop it!" she yelled, her voice trembling with anger
Draco just stared at her, his eyes filled with darkness and self-loathing.
"I'm not ashamed of you," she began, her voice wavering slightly. "I told you, there are very few things that could make me change my mind about who you are, and that, what we just saw, wasn’t one of them.”
"You should be revolted. Why aren't you revolted?" It was barely a whisper.
"Granger, I've done such horrendous fucking things, things I haven't even told you. Who you saw in the vision... I've been that person," he confessed quickly.
"Even if that was who you were I’d still want you. You let me in, and I don't want to leave," she pushed herself against his chest, feeling his heartbeat under her palm.
"Hermione..." It was the second time tonight he had said her name.
His grip on her wrists tightened, not out of anger, but out of desperation, as if clinging to her were the only thing keeping him from crumbling into pieces.
“Having you terrifies me more than anything else in my entire existence," he confessed. “Having something I'm so fucking scared to lose... Everything I've kept from you... it's because I don't want to lose you. I don't want you to realize how much I don't deserve you. I should have told you what the gems meant to me. I should tell you what I’ve had to do, and if you give me time, I will," he breathed into her ear, their heartbeats synchronizing, and she felt herself relax at his touch.
"Draco, I'm yours. No visions of realities that haven't happened or what you had to do to be here today will change that," she breathed in the darkness of the room. She felt his head move back, and he looked at her.
"Say it again," he gulped cupping her chin between his hands.
“I’m yours, Draco,” she breathed, closing her eyes.
Draco let out a deep sigh, a mix of relief and pain. “Let's get the fuck out of here," he said, grabbing her hand as they walked back toward the tunnel.
They retraced the path they had taken earlier, Hermione feeling a weight lifting off her shoulders. There was still so much they needed to learn about each other, so much understanding to be gained, but she didn't care. She wanted him—all of him.
"You're not off the hook for the gems, you know?" she joked as they ascended the staircase toward their Common Room.
"I'll make it up to you. I'll buy you different jewelry," he smirked.
"What's next, a dog collar with a big 'M' on it?" she teased.
"Don't tempt me," he replied, pulling her close and brushing his lips against hers.
"Foul," she smiled into his kiss.
"You don't have to wear them if you don't want to," he said hesitantly.
"No, I want to wear them," she reassured him.
"Good," he said, slinging his arm around her shoulder and pulling her close as they reached the final footsteps.
She thought about being able to do this casually in public. What was really stopping her now? She knew nothing would change her mind, but the thought of Ron, the Weasleys, the community—it shot her anxiety back to the surface.
She would savor these moments a while longer, but she knew she couldn't escape the inevitable. She was falling for Draco Malfoy, and soon the wizarding world would know it too.
They walked into the common room, Draco released her from his arms, and she slipped quietly in behind him as they made their way toward his dormitory. There were some small pockets of students who looked up when they walked in, but nobody seemed to pay much attention. Hermione moved closer to Draco, feeling the heat between them and the throbbing sensation bubbling between her thighs as his fingers lightly traced her palm, still desperate for a connection.
He was right—there was a twisted kink about being with him, the danger of it that flared her arousal. The thought of hiding, the risk of being caught, the idea of her worst enemy now being her lover. It did make her wet.
Draco opened the door to his room, his body blocking her view as she crept in behind him. "Draco…do you still have that intensity elix—" she started, but was immediately cut off by the icy stare that met her eyes as she walked around Draco, once again feeling the intense wave of embarrassment wash over her.
"Ah, Ms. Granger, lovely to see you again. I was told by Headmistress McGonagall that your hunt was tonight. I do hope it all went well," it was Narcissa. Hermione couldn't help but feel like Draco’s mother saw her as some lust-filled Muggle-born stirring all sorts of depravity with her son.
"What are you doing here, Mother?" Draco snapped quickly.
"I had a meeting with the Headmistress, and she allowed me to wait for you in your dorm. I wasn't aware how loose the rules with the co-ed dormitories were this year," Narcissa said haughtily, glancing over at Hermione then to the clock on the table.
Hermione's face flushed.
"Why were you meeting with McGonagall?" Draco asked, moving his body slightly protective in front of Hermione's.
"I'm hosting a benefit gala for the Unity Project, or rather, we are hosting it," Narcissa stated calmly, her words measured. "I just met with Kingsley, the Board of Governors, the Headmistress. It will be in support of the Unity Project for years to come. Apparently, it has already yielded good results that the Ministry wants to share with all stakeholders and potential donors to encourage support for the project to become a tradition at Hogwarts. We will have the honor of hosting it at the Manor."
Narcissa paused before continuing, her tone remaining composed. "I've already taken the liberty to invite some, but not all students, of course. Harry Potter, Ginevra Weasley, Ronald Weasley, Neville Longbottom, and Ms. Granger among the select few—they will receive their invitations tomorrow by owl. And don't worry, dear, I didn't forget your friends, Ms. Parkinson, Blaise, and Theodore." She finished.
"A fucking gala, Mother?"
"Language, Draco.” Narcissa snapped. “Yes, a gala. It will be in two weeks from today. I've already arranged everything, so I just need my son to show up," Narcissa finished, her tone remaining composed as she went to walk back, leaving the two of them standing dumbfounded at the door.
"Ms. Granger, I'll be looking forward to seeing you there. Pleasure as always," Narcissa nodded as she went to open the door, her heels clicking on the wood.
“Draco..." Narcissa stopped suddenly, her face contorting as if in physical pain. "You both know how to cast the contraceptive charm, I assume?" She finished, looking down at her feet, the only time Hermione hadn't seen her look immediately confident, and Hermione wished she had stayed in the dungeons.
"Merlin, Mother, yes. Please leave, I'll see you at the gala. Goodnight," Draco snapped quickly, and Narcissa nodded before she shut the door.
"Your mother thinks I'm a harlot," Hermione said, her eyes wide as she looked at Draco.
"A harlot? What is this, the 18th century?" Draco replied
"Oh, you're one to talk, Malfoy" Hermione retorted, pushing back her hair to reveal her earrings once again, to which he rolled his eyes.
"I swear I'm going to develop a complex if she keeps showing up like this."
Harry's head was pounding as he woke up to a migraine. He could barely think straight. It was his evening to go on the hunt with Theo. They’d only exchanged heated glances in the corridor since their night in the library.
Harry was still grappling with how he felt. He wasn't sure if he was gay. He had enjoyed everything he and Ginny did—it felt good. But he couldn't pretend he didn't want to know what it would feel like to have Theo do those things, touch him in those places. The thought of it made him squirm.
Why did it have to be so complicated?
He let out a deep sigh as he moved out of his bed. Ginny had dragged him out of the Great Hall the other morning to chat—a chat he was very reluctant to have. It made him uncomfortable listening to her overexplain her feelings for Zabini.
He didn't want to know any of it. He was happy for her, he kept telling himself. But a deeper, more resentful part of him thought she was being kind of a bitch.
He would have to keep that thought to himself though.
Ginny explained the way Zabini made her feel like more of a woman, not always needing protection or treating her like a little sister. It rubbed Harry the wrong way. Did she honestly think that he viewed her as some child? That him showing that he cared for her was overprotective?
Maybe he was in the wrong, but Ginny definitely wasn't in the right either, but he couldn't force her to see that. She had asked if he and Ron could try to get to know Blaise. He had agreed through gritted teeth, hoping in no world he'd actually have to engage in it.
Harry stopped and grabbed Ron as they made their way down to breakfast. Ron had been acting like a psychopath —very affectionate toward Harry. He even admitted he had hugged Hermione and thanked Malfoy. That was utterly bizarre. If Ron's behavior was influenced by his hunt experience, Harry couldn't imagine being excited about his own turn.
Bracing himself, Harry and Ron sat at the Gryffindor long table. Harry had received an owl from Kingsley late last night about a Unity Project Gala. They would receive their invitations today. Kingsley had specifically asked if Harry, Ron, and Hermione could all attend together. The context of the letter suggested Ron and Hermione would be arriving as dates and potentially Harry and Ginny as well. He knew Ginny would never let that happen after proclaiming Zabini her boyfriend, but maybe Hermione and Ron would agree. He'd ask. He told Kingsley he'd ask, though he made no promises.
Just as Ron and Harry sat down, Hermione came bustling in after them, quickly taking her seat.
"Morning, ‘Mione, how was everything last night? Are you alright?" Ron asked cautiously, his tone empathetic.
"It wasn't what I was expecting, but I now understand your sentiment yesterday," she replied, looking back at him with those big brown eyes and reaching out to squeeze his hand.
A tall, blond looming shadow passed by. Harry looked up to see Malfoy seamlessly placing a steaming cup of coffee in front of Hermione without saying a word, then continuing to walk. Ron just stared up, not making any nasty retort, but Harry could see he was making a conscientious effort not to.
Hermione glanced back at Draco with a small smile, which he returned before making his way over to where Pansy and Theo were sitting.
"I hate going last," Harry huffed, realizing that tonight was going to be awful, especially if it caused Ron to choke back words upon seeing Draco show Hermione any sign of affection.
"It's not fun, is it? I've gone last the last two hunts. You're now in the lead," Ron smirked.
"For now," Harry rounded back toward Hermione. He had glanced at the standings in the hallway as he entered. Hermione and Draco had fallen to the number two spot, and he and Theo shot to the first.
- Theodore Nott and Harry Potter – 44 minutes and 37 seconds
- Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger – 1 hour 12 minutes 25 seconds
- Blaise Zabini and Ginerva Weasley - 1 hour 14 minutes 15 seconds
- Ronald Weasley and Pansy Parkinson – 1 hour 16 minutes 17 seconds
- Padma Patil and Abby Fawley - 1 hour 19 minutes 23 seconds
Lost in his thoughts about the upcoming challenge and the conversation that no doubt would need to take place, Harry was brought back to reality as the post owls descended.
Letters, with emerald green wax and gold seals, dropped onto their plates. Harry glanced over to where Ginny sat and watched as an owl dropped a letter on hers and Neville's plates as well.
"Dear Mr. Harry Potter,
It is with great pleasure that I extend to you a formal invitation to grace us with your esteemed presence as an honored guest at the inaugural Unity Project Donor Gala. This prestigious event is being hosted at Malfoy Manor on behalf of The Unity Project Initiative, in collaboration with the boards of Hogwarts and the Ministry of Magic.
The gala is scheduled to take place on Saturday, January 30th, 1999. We kindly request your attendance in attire befitting the occasion: Formal Wear or Dressrobes are encouraged. The festivities are set to commence at 7:00 PM and will continue until midnight.
Kindly respond to this invitation by returning the enclosed RSVP at your earliest convenience, indicating your gracious acceptance.
Sincerely,
Your host Narcissa Malfoy,
Minister for Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt
Headmistress Minerva McGonagall, and Head of Board for the Unity Project Cassiopeia Forescue”
“A gala? At bloody Malfoy Manor? I told myself I’d never step a foot back into that place,” Ron looked aghast as he read and reread his note.
“I got the heads up from Kingsley last night. He also asked me if we could try to arrive together, especially you two,” Harry felt himself hating what he said.
“What do you mean?” Hermione asked, but Harry knew full well she knew what he meant.
“He wants us, more specifically the two of you, to arrive together. He asked me if I could take Ginny, but I see no shot of that happening. I figured it’d be a no from you both as well, but I promised I’d ask,” he finished lamely.
“Why? Why does he want us all to put on a show?” Ron rounded quickly, his face flushing.
“He said the whole point of the Unity Project was to keep people together, the community banded around us. And now that the project has begun and we’ve, well… broken up? He doesn’t want people to think it was the Unity Project's doing.”
“Bloody hell,” Ron said, leaning back against the bench.
“Why don’t the three of us just go together? We'll all arrive and enter at the same time. That way, we’re still sort of doing what he asks, but it’s not forcing me and Ron to act as if we are each other's dates,” Hermione suggested.
“Hermione’s right. We should show up together. That way, we are each other's dates,” Ron agreed quickly, and Harry had a suspicion it had to do with his weird relationship with Parkinson.
Harry didn’t mind the idea either. That way, he wouldn’t be in the same situation he had been in during fourth year—desperate to find a date to the Yule Ball, or when girls were trying to slip him love potions for Slughorn's parties. This was the best way to do it.
“Alright, agreed. We’ll all go together?” Harry pushed, and Ron’s gaze fell over to the Slytherin table momentarily. Hermione's eyes followed Ron's as she was about to turn around. He shot back to her eyeline.
“Agreed.”
The rest of the day, Harry barely paid much attention to anything but the feeling of unrest that lingered in his body. He sensed from the atmosphere at breakfast that this evening was not going to be a treat. His relationship with Theo was already messed up enough, and adding these layers of deeper emotional connection skewed the line even further.
What did the Ministry think was going to happen when they forced healing students into proximity with others like-minded? Connections would form and break. They didn’t need a gala to prove that?
The whole notion of a gala to impress donors felt like a construct that Harry was very unfamiliar with. He'd need new dress robes, that was for sure, and apparently, he needed to prepare some speech alongside Hermione and Ron—an added request that Kingsley sent this morning.
Bloody hell. He'd be the chosen one forever, whether he liked it or not.
"How long do you wait here, Theo?" Harry smirked as he rounded the corner, noting that Theo hadn't once been at their meeting spot late.
"I'd wait all day for you, Potter," Theo smirked back, and Harry felt a rush. He was awful at flirting, always had been.
"Sounds like we're in for a tough hunt," Harry answered awkwardly.
"I've been warned," Theo said back coolly.
"Not suggesting we blow anything up tonight? That's growth," Harry pressed back.
"If you're not growing, you're not learning," Theo quipped back and flashed the small piece of parchment between his fingers.
“Amidst darkness deep, the light's your guide,
Confront your fears, take them in stride.
Ponder paths untaken, you'll see,
What could've been, devoid of choices made by thee.”
The parchment shined in deep black ink, and Harry caught the fresh scent of whatever smell was radiating from Theo—a slight distraction. Then the parchment erupted into a small ball of flame, leading them down the corridor, with Theo taking long strides in front of him.
"Keep up! We have 27 minutes to beat," Theo shot back.
"I'm walking just as fast as you!" Harry rounded back as they descended deeper into the castle, the walls dampening, and the corridors becoming unfamiliar.
Theo pointed out where the Slytherin Common Room was, though Harry didn’t really have the heart to tell him he already knew.
The deeper they went; the more disoriented Harry began to feel. It seemed like they were going in circles until the orb of light abruptly halted, dancing between a lone metal grate in the floor.
Without uttering a word, the grate shot off, smashing against the floor. Theo's wand was drawn so fast, with wordless magic, that Harry jumped back, clutching at his own wand.
Theo disappeared into the hole to follow the light, and Harry went in after. They both stood wordlessly in a dank tunnel that seemed to stretch endlessly in front of them, with the light of the flames leading their way.
“This might not be the best time to bring it up, but since we don’t know how long this tunnel is, why not? I hear you’re giving a big speech at Malfoy’s Unity Gala,” Theo pushed as he ducked down the tunnel.
“It’s not a big speech. Kingsley just asked if I could say a few words about my experience with the Unity Project so far,” Harry stuttered, again feeling slightly stupid having to explain himself to Theo.
“And how is your experience so far?” Theo asked with a sarcastic hint.
“Well, I’m crawling through a random wet dark tunnel somewhere miles under the castle while fighting back homosexual feelings for my partner, so I guess you could say it’s going smashingly,” Harry hit back, and Theo let out a loud laugh that echoed through the rest of the tunnel.
“You should begin with the homosexual feelings bit. I think that will grab hold of the audience better,” Theo joked as he moved quicker, and they finally saw the light at the end of the tunnel.
When Theo jumped down into the massive room, it instantly transported Harry in time eight years—they were back, in the same room where McGonagall had set up her chess set. Although it was smashed to bits and covered in cement dust, it looked almost the same; it felt the same.
“Theo, I’ve been here before,” Harry said, looking around the room.
“Why does that not surprise me,” Theo retorted.
“In the first year, it’s where they hid the Philosopher's Stone. If we follow the light, we’ll go through two more rooms. It’s strange Dumbledore just left it all down here,” Harry was thinking out loud.
“Is it? I know you idolize the man, and that may cloud your judgment, but Dumbledore wasn’t perfect,” Theo shot back.
“I know that better than anyone, but he was a great man, a great wizard,” Harry said defensively.
“A great wizard, yes, but you can’t deny he played favorites. The only good thing I can say about him is that I’m pretty positive that he knew about Draco and me taking the Dark Mark, yet he still allowed us both to come back to school without saying anything. It was the only thing I’ve ever been grateful for,” Theo explained.
“He knew about Draco. I’m not sure about you…” Harry said sheepishly. He couldn’t defend that Dumbledore had played favorites, yet for most of his upbringing, it didn’t feel like he did.
“Seeing as how I wasn’t tasked with murdering him, I’m sure it wasn’t top of mind,” Theo smirked, as they followed the ball of fire toward the door that Hermione and Harry had gone through years ago. Harry remembered the flames, remembered the darkness.
Theo pushed open the door with a heavy grunt, and both boys moved into total darkness, their wandtips barely lighting the way in front of them. Theo stepped forward slowly, carefully.
“Theodore, have you brought me Potter? The Dark Lord will be forever grateful. Good job, son,” the voice reverberated through the darkness, and Harry felt Theo freeze as the face from the Pensieve he had seen months ago moved into the light.
“Father?” Theo stuttered, “This isn’t real, you’re dead, I watched you die. I buried you,” Theo continued.
“If it’s not real, then why am I here?” the voice cackled darkly, and Harry shot out in front of Theo, moving his wand quickly and at the ready.
Just as Harry stepped into vision, the figure began to churn, to spin—a mesh of darkness, cloudy grey, suspending in the air, just spinning. Harry stood, unmoving for moments, for seconds, and nothing. Nothing appeared in front of him, just the spinning of a charcoal swirl.
"Riddikulus!" Theo shouted, and with a crack, the charcoal swirl vanished.
It had been a boggart, a fucking boggart. Yet, Harry’s was… nothing?
“Fucking hell, Potter, are you truly not scared of anything?” Theo rounded; as the flaming ball of fire lit back up to showcase another door.
“I guess not? I don’t know… after you already know what it’s like to die… what else is there to really be afraid of? Or maybe I’m less of a person now,” Harry huffed uncomfortably.
The thought formed in his mind that maybe his fear was fearing or feeling nothing at all, but he didn’t want to tell Theo that.
“What’s it like to live a life without any fear?”
“Empty,” Harry replied.
He had lived his entire life with fear clinging to his every move until Voldemort died, until that moment he watched him crumple to the ground. Everything since then had felt empty.
He didn’t know what was better, the constant fear and anxiety or nothing.
He pushed open the door and was blinded by the light of hundreds of torches. Familiarity hit him again. It looked exactly the same as it did years ago, the heat from the fire sinking into his skin as they walked down the steps hesitantly.
“I don’t like this... it feels exactly like it did last time. You don’t happen to have Voldemort hiding on the back of your head, do you?” Harry tried to ease some of the stress he was feeling.
“No, I like the back of my head the way it is, thanks,” Theo smirked as they both looked up to the mirror situated in the middle of the room.
It was large and golden. Just as their figures appeared in the reflection, they vanished, and two small bottles appeared.
Harry walked through the veil first, the warmth of the torches leaving him as he felt as if he passed into a different world.
Theo was beside him in an instant, opening the small piece of parchment that sat between the bottles.
"Unlock the secrets of roads unseen, only one choice reveals what might have been," Harry read, and Theo picked up one of the vials of potion examining the color.
“Ready for another fun trip?” Theo smirked as he pressed the bottle to his lips. Harry mirrored him and nodded, drinking deeply.
The potion tasted like nothing.
Once the last drop was down his throat, the room began to shake and turn, and like bricks, a new world was being built around them.
They stood in a large great room, ancestral portraits hung on the wall, darkness pouring in from the windows outside. The only source of warmth was a fire crackling in the hearth as they stared at another Theo standing, reading a parchment and looking down at his arm, his Dark Mark the blackest Harry had ever seen one. Theo’s face looked thin, and pale, a shadow of who he was.
“Theodore, we’ve been summoned. The Malfoys have captured Potter, and he’s been handed over to the Dark Lord. Apparently, Draco has been the one to name him." Tiberius paused then let out a long sigh. "You have no idea how disappointed I am to have you as my son. Draco has solidified his place among the Dark Lord, and what have you accomplished? A marriage contract? Pathetic.” The voice of Tiberius Nott rang through the room.
Just as they had arrived, the vision churned again, brick by brick rebuilding, and suddenly Harry stood in a dark field, the moon hanging high in the sky.
What the hell was this?
Had Theo actually been summoned when he, Hermione, and Ron arrived at Malfoy Manor?
Harry glanced over at Theo’s face, and it had hardened, showing no emotion, staring at the duplicate of himself and Malfoy outside a small cottage.
"And Potter... he's dead?" the other Theo's question hung heavily in the air.
"Potter's dead," Draco confirmed.
Harry knew this was a different reality, one that hadn’t come to pass, one where he didn’t make it out of the manor last year. He understood now, Hermione and Ron’s reactions this morning. They had seen this reality too. He wondered what they had seen, where they were in this world.
"Just get the girl out. Zabini would have our throats if anything happened to her," Draco declared darkly.
They both put on their masks and stormed into the small cottage, the real Theo and Harry following behind.
A green light shot from the other Theo’s wand with such precision and force that Harry didn’t even recognize him, a skilled and trained assassin.
Harry watched in horror as the light from Bill Weasley’s eyes left him at the hands of Theo. Another green light with just as much sharpness erupted from Malfoy’s wand hitting Arthur Weasley as Harry watched Ginny run from the steps, a purple light hitting her as the other Theo rushed to grab her, moving like a snake through the grass as he pulled her from the cottage. The only thing Harry heard as the vision slipped away was a resonating crack and the screams of Molly Weasley.
Was the girl Ginny? How long had Zabini held a secret flame for Ginny? Harry would think about that later, and the room spun.
“Pans!” the other was Theo clutching a bottle of Firewhiskey and a large leather wingback chair in the drawing room from the first vision.
It must have been the Nott Estate, Harry guessed.
He was slurring as Pansy Parkinson rounded the corner, her face broken, her eyes dead.
“What, Theo?” she said in an exhausted huff.
“I figured my wife would be happier to see me,” Theo slurred, and Harry's eyes widened.
What the hell? Wife?
“You’re piss drunk, Theo,” Pansy continued.
“I’ve been told, that we need to try for an heir…” Theo choked on the bottle.
“Try for an heir? So, what, you figured you’d get completely sloshed to bury the fact I’m not one of your Muggle men at that awful bar you sneak off to?” Pansy snapped.
“Don’t! Don’t fucking say that out loud,” the other Theo snapped, moving towards her. She took a step back, her lips rigid, her eyes filled with sadness.
“Are we going to live our entire lives doing what your father bids?” Pansy inched back.
“Until he dies, or until our child crawls from your womb so we can fuck them up just as much as we’ve been fucked up,” the other Theo paused, taking another swig. “Should we schedule the Dark Mark to be given as soon as they are born, or should we wait and pretend like they may have a choice? What do you think, Parkinson? Oops... sorry, I meant Mrs. Nott,” Theo slurred and pressed the bottle to his lips again.
Harry just stared in utter disbelief. He was dead in this world, but really, so was the Theo he knew. Pansy and Harry's eyes turned to the sudden twisting of the skull and serpent on his arm.
“My apologies. Looks like I’m being summoned. What Order member do you think I’ll have to torture and kill today? Lupin? Kingsley? You think they finally caught some more of the Weasleys?” Theo smirked, and with that, the vision disappeared, the world going blank again.
Harry found himself back on the cold concrete floor, the flames of a thousand suns swirling in his vision as the room where he had first encountered Voldemort came back into focus, his reflection intermingled with Theo’s disheveled one in the mirror.
Harry felt his heart pounding in his chest, the air filling his lungs; he needed to feel more, to feel truly alive again, the way he had the first time he entered this room.
Theo took a heavy gulp as he stared up at the words spread across the mirror, and Harry barely registered as he moved to both knees beside him.
His hands reached for Theo's shaggy brown hair, his perfect golden skin, and his beautifully angular face. Harry didn’t care anymore; all he wanted was to feel.
“Potter, I don’t need help up,” Theo quickly protested as Harry grabbed the back of his hair with his palm.
“I’m not helping you up,” Harry choked out as he pressed his lips to Theo’s.
He felt himself spiraling, tasting mint and the sweetness of Theo's saliva. Harry pressed deeper into the kiss, and Theo kissed back, his teeth biting down on Harry’s bottom lip.
Harry let out a reluctant groan; it was the most alive he had felt in months, Theo refilled his empty tank.
“Your current state is a result of choices made. Life could be different if paths had strayed. - 28 minutes and 35 seconds.”
Chapter 36: Options
Chapter Text
“I spoke with Harry,” Ginny said delicately as she lay her head on Blaise’s chest, the sound of his heartbeat comforting. They were tangled in his sheets, their bodies close, and she melted into the sensation of his skin against hers.
“I saw that,” Zabini replied in a low tone.
“I know you did, but you haven’t asked about it,”
“Did you want me to?” he inquired.
“I figured you’d be curious,” Ginny replied, lifting her head slightly.
“I am curious, but it seems to be your business. Unless you’d like to tell me what that was about,” he said, his fingers gently stroking her long hair.
“I felt guilty about how he found out about you and me. After all, Harry’s still... well, Harry. I hadn’t spoken to him much since our breakup, and I felt like I needed to explain. So, I asked him if he and Ron could get to know you,” Ginny explained hesitantly.
“Get to know me? And how did that go?” Blaise smirked.
“Harry agreed. I haven’t talked to Ron yet. He’s the real challenge,” Ginny sighed, knowing her brother’s stubbornness. Even if Harry genuinely didn’t want to get to know Blaise, he was usually adept at feigning interest. Ginny was confident in that much.
“Yeah, I’m sure your brother would love to go on double dates—me, you, Parkinson, and him at the Leaky on Saturday nights. Sounds like a blast,” Blaise remarked sarcastically.
“Speaking of, he still doesn’t know that I know. That was my plan when I talked to him. If he gets all uppity, I’m going to let him know I’m aware of Parkinson,” Ginny said, sounding almost like she was blackmailing her brother. Maybe she was. She loved her family, but she also knew how to navigate each of her brothers’ tempers, especially Rons.
“Am I rubbing off on you, Ginevra?” Blaise teased.
“So full of yourself, Zabini. With seven brothers, you need to learn how to manipulate, I’ve been doing this since I was six” Ginny smirked.
“Fair enough,” Blaise laughed in response. Ginny felt herself leaning further into his body, his hands delicately tracing over her shoulders, little goosebumps following his touch.
She didn’t once regret her decision to come out publicly with Blaise. Surprisingly, she hadn’t received any letters from her family—no word from her mother, brothers, or father. She figured they must have known, as everyone else did.
When she received her invitation to the Unity Project Gala, she felt a mix of excitement and nerves. It would be their first official public outing together as a couple, in front of her parents and brothers. She knew she’d need steelier nerves.
“You still want to go to the Gala as my date, right? Not scared off at the prospect of my family?” Ginny asked, fighting back her thoughts.
“Honestly, the only Weasley who slightly terrifies me is your mother,” Zabini joked, and she playfully poked him in the stomach.
“Joking…...sort of,” he laughed, but then switched his tone, becoming more serious. “I want to be in your life, and that means I’m going to try my hardest to ensure they support our relationship. I know how much your family means to you. I also know how much Potter meant to them, so I understand that it won’t be an easy feat. But I’m not going to let that deter my efforts,” Zabini said back, always so casually, always so good at making her feel comfortable.
“And what about your family? Will I be meeting the infamous Ms. Zabini?” Ginny asked, smiling.
“Eventually. My mother won’t be in England for the next few months, but she knows about you. I mentioned you frequently over the Christmas break. I was hoping to ask you if, over the Easter Holiday, you’d like to join me in Italy. I was waiting for the right moment to ask, but I guess now is good,” Blaise said, his voice wavering for the first time.
“Italy? What would we do when we were there?” Ginny asked, her cheeks flushing, another rush coursing through her body at the ask.
“I’ll soak you in wine, and drink you up every chance I get,” he said, pulling her into a kiss.
She pressed back, her tongue moving into his. She pulled back, feeling her smile so wide it hurt her face.
“So… that’s a, yes?” he asked, moving his hand back through her hair.
“It’s a yes,” she confirmed, sealing it with another kiss.
Ginny found herself sleeping in Blaise’s room almost nightly now. She’d do what she had done with Harry: slip out before anyone could really notice. Usually, she’d head back to Gryffindor Tower or directly to breakfast. But this time, she decided she’d go to breakfast and check out the standings. Theo and Harry had been the final partners to go on their hunt last night, and she was very curious to see where they fell.
- Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger – 1 hour 12 minutes 25 seconds
- Theodore Nott and Harry Potter – 1 hour 13 minutes 12 seconds
- Blaise Zabini and Ginny Weasley - 1 hour 14 minutes 15 seconds
- Ronald Weasley and Pansy Parkinson – 1 hour 16 minutes 17 seconds
- Padma Patil and Abby Fawley - 1 hour 19 minutes 23 seconds
Fuck.
Harry and Theo had beaten them by a goddamn minute. How? The entire alternative reality they had witnessed was solely based on the fact that Harry hadn’t won the war. You'd think that would put them at a disadvantage, right?
Yet, here Ginny and Blaise were, trailing behind. But if Harry had died in that world, it meant they had caught a glimpse into Theo's alternative life.
Ginny couldn't shake off her curiosity about what Hermione, Ron, and Harry had experienced, what their lives were like in that reality. After most of her family had vanished, Zabini had taken her in. That memory lingered in her mind, especially in the quiet of the night. She tried to push it down, but the nagging urge to know more persisted.
She wanted to know how she ended up with Blaise in that alternate world. As she ended up with Blaise in this one? Was it fate that brought them together, and would they have formed the same bond or would bitterness have poisoned their relationship as she endured a life tethered to him?
Ginny felt the pressure mounting as the competition among the top five teams grew. With their next hunt slated for early March, it would be their final chance to secure their spot in the coveted final five.
Ginny was determined to ensure they held onto their position and clinched a spot in the finals. Winning was still her ultimate goal.
Surveying the standings, Ginny had always considered Draco and Hermione as their main competition. However, with Harry in the mix and getting to know Theo better, she couldn't shake the feeling that underestimating them would be a mistake.
Entering the Great Hall, Ginny noticed Harry and Hermione were absent, but surprisingly, Ron was already seated at the long table, munching on a bacon and cheese sandwich.
"Why are you here so early?" Ginny asked, taking a seat across from her brother.
"Charms homework. It's due, and I haven't finished it yet," Ron replied between bites, crumbs falling from his mouth.
"Not surprising," Ginny remarked with a grimace.
"I've been meaning to talk to you. Mum's all upset about you and Zabini," Ron said, still chewing.
"She hasn't said anything to me. I haven't even heard from her. Why would she be upset?" Ginny asked, puzzled.
"Maybe because it's Blaise Zabini," Ron retorted.
"I'm taking Blaise as my date to the Gala. You can tell Mum that next time you two are having one of your gossip sessions about me," Ginny's temper flared.
"Really, Gin? Are you purposely trying to make a scene? Merlin," Ron replied, his tone growing aggravated.
"Making a scene by taking my boyfriend to a gala? I don't understand that logic. You'd rather me hide him; pretend I'm not dating him?" Ginny shot back.
"It'd be easier that way," Ron spat
"Easier for you, maybe," Ginny was going for the jugular, waiting for his response.
"What does that mean?" Ron looked incredulous.
"Have you noticed that pretty diamond tennis bracelet that Parkinson wears?" Ginny pressed, observing Ron's expression twist. "I saw it appear on her wrist after Christmas. Very strange, considering the fact that I saw that exact same bracelet in one of your shopping bags one day after you came home from Diagon Alley…..I thought you had lost your marbles and were going to give it to Hermione, yet it never surfaced. So, you can imagine my surprise when it showed up on Pansy's wrist. Now, a few things crossed my mind. Maybe she had blackmailed you somehow, but that didn't make sense. The only thing that truly made sense is that you're screwing her," Ginny concluded, crossing her arms and observing the horror and nervousness wash over Ron's face. "You weren't with bloody Seamus and Dean on Christmas. You were giving your secret little girlfriend her Christmas present, weren't you?" Ginny smirked.
“Gin, it’s not like that. Pansy isn’t like the rest of them,” Ron gulped heavily, his voice stuttering, his face bright red.
“Get off your high hippogriff, Ron. You’ve been acting so shitty to Hermione, to me, yet you’re with Pansy Parkinson? You know how fucking insane that is for you to act as if you have any right to judge me? At least I’m not scared to admit my feelings,” Ginny pressed her tone firm.
“It’s different, until recently, I wasn’t even sure if Parkinson felt the same way about me as I did about her. And if we go public, I could lose her. You don’t understand the pressure she has from her mother, from her family, on the whole fucking pureblood courting and marriage contract bullshit. If they know about us, it could ruin everything, and they could take her from me,” Ron said sincerely, his words almost making Ginny feel guilty.
“So, you genuinely like her? This isn’t just some... gross guy thing?” Ginny hesitated, not wanting to pry too much into his personal life, the thought making her uneasy.
“It’s not some gross guy thing. I care about her, a lot,” Ron affirmed
“Alright, alright,” Ginny said with a huff. “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll continue to keep this between us, but you’re going to stop being a prick to Zabini, and you’re going to help me out with Mum at the Gala, okay?” Ginny said, feeling herself give in to her brother slightly, softening at his words.
“Okay,” Ron nodded sheepishly.
It was still fucking ridiculous that her brother, Ron Weasley, could develop any feelings other than loathing for Pansy Parkinson. But she was biting her tongue because at the beginning of this year, she would have thought the same of herself and Blaise.
As Ginny rose from the table, finishing the last bite of toast, she prepared to leave.
“Gin,” Ron called quietly, prompting Ginny to turn back. “I’m sorry for being an ass. I’m working on it,” he grinned slightly.
“Don’t strain yourself,” she smiled before walking away.
The most distracting thing on this planet was Hermione Granger in a skirt. Draco found himself seated behind her in almost every morning class, unable to tear his eyes away. The way she shifted in her chair drove him wild. It was a thin line between lust and loathing, and he felt himself teetering on the edge constantly. He wanted Granger so much it almost made him hate her.
The third hunt had been the worst for him. Seeing what he could have been, what he could have done, was agonizing. He tried to push Hermione away at every turn, but she kept coming back, kept wanting him.
There was a sickening twist in his gut as he liked the idea of having her tied up and all to himself. And a part of him couldn’t shake the feeling that she liked it too.
This bloody gala his mother was planning was casting a huge shadow over everything. It seemed to be working to elevate the Malfoy name, by hosting such an esteemed event at the Manor. Only a select few students received invitations, and it shot Draco to the top of the most-wanted list among many seventh and sixth-year Slytherin girls.
They were desperate to be asked as a plus one, a massive contrast to his summer experiences. Then, he could barely get a witch in his bed. Now, he was followed by a horde of eager girls, which annoyed him.
He couldn’t openly admit that Hermione was his. She had told him that she, Weasley, and Potter had all agreed to go to the Gala together. It was a frustrating thought, but he was just thankful that she didn’t succumb to Kingsley's idea of her going with just the bloody Weasel.
Regardless of what Hermione said and what she saw on Saturday night, there was still a pool of anxiety in his stomach. He worried that she would change her mind, that she would snap out of her delusion that he was a worthy man. But damn, it felt so good to have her affection. If only he could arrive next Saturday with her on his arm, he'd be fucking invincible.
Draco walked back to the Common Room alone, trailing behind Granger, Weasley, and Potter as they chatted quietly. He was taking in the view, the view of Hermione’s skirt swaying from side to side, before he began noticing that he was attracting a small party of three blondes walking quickly behind him, led by Astoria Greengrass. It seemed that Daphne wasn't a deterrent for this social climbing pariah.
“Draco,” her voice grated like nails on a chalkboard.
“Little Greengrass,” he replied casually, taking a bite of his apple that he had been tossing in the air.
“How have you been?” she smirked, flanked by two giggling girls.
“Why do you care?” he replied in a monotone.
“I’ve always cared. Your friends with my sister, and our families have known each other for years. That’s why I was surprised when I didn’t receive an invitation to the Unity Project Gala when my parents did,” Astoria explained.
“I was friends with your sister. She hasn’t spoken to me in months because apparently, she’s still upset, that I shagged her and didn’t fall in love with her immediately after. Is that what you’re trying to do, Astoria? Shag me in hopes of getting an invitation to the gala?” Draco smirked, enjoying the discomfort in her eyes as she acted offended.
“I... um... Well, do you want to shag?” Astoria whispered, attempting to regain her composure.
“No,” Draco replied coldly and turned away.
“Try Longbottom. Maybe he'll take both you and Daphne if you ask nicely,” Draco tossed his apple into the air again and spun, hoping to dampen the leeches' spirits for the day. He felt rather pleased with himself, as he walked into the Common Room toward his dorm, as soon as he entered, the sound of music and Pansy, Theo, and Blaise greeted him. They were all sitting around the fire in his hearth.
“Why am I not even the slightest bit surprised you’re all here? Why can’t you go to Parkinson’s room when I’m in class?” Draco groaned as he threw his bag down.
“Parkinson’s room just feels different. The energy in here is darker and more self-loathing. I love basking in it,” Theo smirked.
“Pans, if Daphne says anything to you about me pissing off her sister, tell her I apologize. But I didn’t feel like being accosted by Astoria and her minions today, so I may have made some lewd comments,” Draco explained.
“How unlike you,” she shot back with a smile.
“The lewd comments or the apologizing?” Blaise laughed.
“Both,” Parkinson barked out a laugh in response.
“I don’t need her mother telling my mother. I couldn’t stand another random drop-in and a lecture on how to behave,” Draco said, rubbing his temples.
“It must be awful having a mother who cares about you,” Theo rolled his eyes, his tone shifting slightly, and Pansy and Blaise both looked up, the comment creating tension in the room.
“What? I can’t make the comment? Are we all going to pretend we didn’t see the same alternative reality? Draco, you and I, we were like raiders in the dark,” Theo’s voice tightened.
“You two saw each other?” Pansy asked slowly.
“I saw Draco, the Weaslette, and you, Pans,” Theo added.
“You saw me?” Pansy pushed; her voice curious.
“You didn’t see yourself?” Draco asked, questioning.
“I just saw Ron, and you…” Pansy looked up, and Draco felt his body tense. “I saw him tell… Vold… I saw him tell you-know-who that he’d help bring in the Order members. Then I saw him as he said goodbye to Granger. Also, we saw him and you… Ron asked if you wanted to be a lapdog forever, and something in your face changed. The last vision was of him telling the Order to keep fighting and to check the ghoul before Bellatrix killed him, and we were back,” Pansy said, her voice trembling.
“Check the ghoul?” Theo questioned.
“Apparently Weasley hid backup information about the Horcruxes in case something happened to him, Granger, and Potter. Honestly, the smartest thing I think he’s ever done,” Draco responded.
“Draco… you understand how close we came to that being our reality,” Pansy added.
“Pans… you don’t need to remind us. You and I actually ended up getting married. And you bloody hated me. But from what I can tell, I was a sick bastard,” Theo shot back.
“I was given Ginevra… Did either of you know about the servitude program?” Blaise questioned.
“It had been in talks during the war, about keeping Pureblood and Half-Blood prisoners. The Dark Lord was adamant about reducing the amount of magical blood spilled. But in regards to Ginny, Theo and I were the ones who killed half her family and dumped her on your doorstep. It seems like your crush persisted even then, although I doubt it would have blossomed,” Draco said back darkly, and Blaise shifted uncomfortably.
“Did you actually know it was Potter? Last year? I never asked,” Theo said, and Draco suddenly felt like he didn’t want to talk about this anymore.
“Let’s not dwell on this too much. The entire reality was a development of this fucking Unity Project, let’s not forget that. None of it may have happened even if Draco made the decision to give up Potter. The Department of Mysteries has the magical capabilities of creating these realities based on our memories, based on our fears, using soft magic like Divination and a great deal of assumptions,” Zabini chimed in, and Draco was taken aback at how fucking right he was.
“It felt pretty accurate to me,” Theo continued.
“If that was the third hunt, what do you think they will have in store for the fourth and then the final? I don’t want to get ahead of myself here, but I assume it's pretty likely that all four of us and our partners will make it to the final unless something really drastic happens in the fourth,” Pansy added, showing more interest in the conversation than she had in months.
“Then we’ll all have to compete against each other, on the same night, at the same time. What a delight,” Theo smirked, sitting back down and scanning around the room.
Draco hadn’t thought about the upcoming hunts much, too caught up in the whirlwind of Granger. He knew what he planned on doing, keeping himself and Hermione at that top spot regardless of the cost. But he would have been a fucking moron to think that his friends weren’t competition.
Blaise and Ginny had been surprising, keeping their times tight at each hunt. Theo and Harry were expected rivals; Draco knew both of them had the ability to devastate the playing field. Theo was one of the fastest wand duelers he’d ever seen, and he had been greatly powerful even during their earliest years at Hogwarts, and Potter was, well, Potter, he won fucking everything.
Pansy and Weasley were another story. Draco hadn’t thought much of them until recently, but he wouldn’t dismiss them anymore. Their personalities alone could be bullish and willful, but now that they were working better together. He’d no longer count them out.
Pansy, Theo, and Blaise finally made their way out later in the evening, or rather Draco forced them out. Hermione had been coming down more often, and he didn’t want her to be deterred by walking into a bunch of Slytherins in his room.
He used to go up to her room almost nightly, but she had been coming down to his sporadically, and he wanted her to. There was a part of him that wanted her to be caught coming or going.
He kept himself busy with a few papers, checking his watch as it neared 10:00 PM. This morning letters began to arrive for many students about internships and post-Hogwarts jobs, yet Draco didn’t even think about it, he hadn’t expected any. But to his fucking astonishment, he had received one from the Ministry, directly from Kingsley on behalf of the Auror department.
Draco had to reread it seven times to make sure it wasn’t a joke. He had never considered being an Auror; he had never really thought much about a "real job." All his life, he was supposed to take over and manage the Malfoy portfolios, to leverage the Ministry, not work in it.
He scoffed at the idea, but for some reason, he kept the letter on his desk, and his eyes wandered back to it.
At 10:02, his door creaked open, and Hermione's curly mess was in his doorway.
“I wasn’t sure if you were coming,” Draco said with a smile as he turned to her. Her hair was wild, and she was carrying a stack of books and opened letters as she moved casually to his bed. She wasn’t shy anymore, and he loved that. He loved that she had just made his space hers.
“I’ve had a flurry of letters today. I got caught up reviewing them all. Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Improper Use Magic Office, Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, Department of International Magical Cooperation, Department of Magical Transportation,” Hermione huffed as she kept throwing thick letters one by one on his bed. “Even the damn Department of Magical Games and Sports? It seems like every department wants me to intern for them. I got a handwritten letter from Arthur about the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office,” she finished.
“Why wouldn’t every single department want you working for them? You’re brilliant. I don’t understand how this is a shock to you, Granger,” Draco said, spinning in his chair to look at her face in the firelight.
“I guess it’s not really a shock, but you’d think that at the very least they wouldn’t just throw departments at me that I have no interest in. The Department of Magical Games and Sports? Really?” she scoffed.
“And what department has the interest of the Brightest Witch of her age?” he smirked.
“Honestly, I don’t know. I have thought a lot about attending a Muggle college or university. I have a small savings put away. At first, I didn’t think I could manage both Muggle college and living on my own, but Harry offered me a room at Grimmauld Place, and I’ve been thinking a lot more about it now,” she said shyly.
Draco hadn’t ever really thought of it, hadn’t ever really thought of what Granger had been living on after her parents lost their memories. He knew she had been bouncing between the Burrow and Potter’s, but why hadn’t he thought about it?
What a twat move on his part. He hadn’t even considered that being alone also meant she was financially responsible for herself. And Potter? Living with Potter after school? Sure, it was a nice gesture, but Draco hated it.
“Muggle college? For what?” It was the first thing that popped into his head, mainly due to the fact he didn’t like the thought of her being slightly out of reach in the Muggle world.
“A type of science perhaps, chemistry or medicine? I’d love to blend Muggle sciences with magical properties. But it’s all just a thought, though. I haven’t really decided anything,” she said, pushing again, not meeting his eyes.
“If you decide you want to go to college or university, you don’t have to live with Potter. I have a flat in London. Just stay there,” Draco added, his voice earnest.
He liked that idea better. She could stay at his flat, and he'd be able to be with her whenever he wanted. She wouldn’t have to worry about a thing. He’d take care of everything.
Hell, he’d even pay her tuition if she really wanted to go. She shouldn’t have to worry about silly things like galleons holding her back from achieving everything she wanted.
“The same flat you brought half the girls in London back to?” she quipped, and he smirked.
“I’ll buy a new one, along with all new furniture.” He added casually.
“I can’t ask that of you,” she said back kindly.
“You’re not asking. I’m offering,” he rounded back.
“Draco…” she warned as the letters fell to her side. He moved closer to her, grasping his own letter from the desk, not completely sure what was coming over him.
“I got this,” he said, handing it to her as he moved onto his bed, kneeling beside her. She grabbed it out of his hands and opened it, reading it carefully.
“An Auror? You’d make a fantastic Auror,” she said, her eyes swirling with excitement as she looked up at him.
Draco felt a gulp catch in his throat. Her eyes held so much—genuine belief in him, the sense that he could do anything. The way her face lit up at him was like the first ray of sunshine hitting your skin after weeks of rain.
“I don’t know about all that. It would mean I’d be stuck with Potter and the Weasel forever, that thought makes me want to die, plus I’d still need to manage my family's properties and portfolios. That would be an expectation, but I can’t act like this wasn’t a surprise to get,” Draco said quickly.
“Think about it. Because if I were a dark wizard, I wouldn’t want to come across you in full Auror robes,” she smirked, leaning her lips tantalizingly close to his.
“If you were a dark witch, you’d be the first on my capture list,” he growled, pressing his lips to meet hers, his hands trailing down her thighs.
“You’ve been punishing me all day,” he groaned as he pulled back.
“How?” she breathed, as his mouth trailed down her throat, her skin tasting like vanilla.
“Walking around in this little skirt, moving your tight ass around on your chair... I thought I was going to have to jerk off between classes just to get through the fucking afternoon,” he moaned, as her hands drifted down to his belt buckle.
“You know... I can do that for you,” she breathed back, her hand moving down his trousers, sending an electric current down his spine as her soft palms pressed against his skin.
Fuck, she felt good. He felt his hips instinctively move closer to her, seeking some release.
Her hand began to move up and down, working his cock. But he wanted more, needed more. He wanted her mouth, her lips.
“What about these sweet lips? Can they do that for me?” he smirked, his thumb grazing the bottom of her lip.
She gave him a little smile and nodded, bending down in front of him, and pulling his trousers past his knees.
She didn’t waste any time. Her tongue traced along his hardened cock, paying special attention to the head.
He felt his eyes rolling back. She wrapped her mouth around him, working both hands at his base and moving him deeper into the back of her throat.
“Fuck…” Draco moaned
She found a rhythm, taking him in, swirling her tongue, devouring him. She loved his encouragements, his fingers threading through her curls, helping her bob up and down on him.
Everything was wet—her mouth, his cock, and he was certain her pussy.
“Let me taste you,” he grunted out, as he popped out of her mouth, and he pushed her back onto the bed.
He fucking needed her.
He moved his head under her skirt, licking the sticky glistening shine on her thighs, tasting her arousal.
His cock pulsated hard as he tongued her clit, his fingers moving inside her.
Hermione’s soft moans fueled his want, igniting that fucking monster that lived in his groin. He wished he could capture those sounds and play them on repeat.
“Draco, can you... can you get the intensity elixir? I want to try it,” her breath was ragged.
He almost came on the spot at her request.
Was she sure? He thought about it all the time—drenching her entire body in the elixir, watching her orgasm for hours. On nights when she didn't show up to his room, he would wank at the thought of adding the slippery oil all over her body.
Shooting his head back up, he positioned himself at her entrance, rubbing the tip of his cock against her clit, breaking her in just slightly.
Wordlessly, with a flick of his wand, he summoned the little bottle he kept in his drawers. It was in his hands and he ripped out the cork with his teeth, keeping one hand on his cock that was encircling her. He emulsified the oil into his fingertips as he stared down at her heaving chest.
“Are you sure? You won’t be able to walk tomorrow, Granger,” he warned
“Is that a threat or a promise?” she moaned back.
“Both,” he replied, his sin matching hers.
Chapter 37: The Leaky Cauldron
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Ron needed new dress robes. The ones Fred and George got him after the fourth year were already too small, despite the charms he cast to stretch them. Kingsley had sent him, Hermione, and Harry a follow-up letter regarding the gala; apparently, the three of them were the guests of honor and needed to be fitted for specialty wear at Madam Malkin's and Wendolyn’s Witches Wear. The trade-off was they got free robes in exchange for handshakes and a speech.
Ron couldn’t complain much; it seemed like a fair exchange to him. Harry was annoyed about it, but Harry hadn’t always had to save up galleons anytime he wanted something new.
They had free periods most afternoons, so Harry and Ron had asked McGonagall to floo into Diagon Alley for their fittings during the week. She agreed, somewhat reluctantly, Ron guessed, since her name had been on the invitation and she couldn’t find a good enough reason to say no.
Ron hadn’t told Pansy that Ginny knew about their relationship. He was slightly nervous it would make her jumpy. Ginny wouldn’t say anything; he knew that. But it did mean he had to be on better behavior about the whole Zabini thing. He couldn’t risk her temper flaring, but it didn’t mean all of a sudden Ron was going to be nice to the bloke; he’d just not actively be a prick. That’s all she had asked.
“You think we can sneak a pint at the Leaky after this?” Ron asked Harry as they strolled into the cobblestone alley of Diagon. The shops were bustling, and witches and wizards were flocking in the streets. Many seemed to shake Ron and Harry’s hands as they walked.
Ron wasn’t used to it; he'd had a few encounters at the end of the war, but everything had been a blur. This felt different—it felt nice.
“Probably. As long as we're back by curfew, I couldn’t imagine McGonagall getting too upset, unless we show up piss drunk,” Harry laughed.
“It is Thursday, and we only have one class tomorrow,” Ron grinned cheekily.
There was something about the London air and the streets that stirred a desire in him to have a good time. Maybe it was because it was the first time he had seen sunlight instead of gray skies in four months.
“Let’s just get these robes fitted first, then we’ll figure it out,” Harry joked as they entered Madame Malkin's. She ushered them into the backroom, where a few haughty-looking wizarding tailors stood around seven tall changing stalls, complete with plush waiting cushions and tables with measuring tapes. Ron would have been thrilled for this private fitting if it weren’t for the fact that Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott, and Blaise Zabini all lounged on the couch cushions in front of them.
“Ah, Potter, Weasley, the guests of honor. Coming to get your robes tailored?” Theo smirked casually, as Ron looked incredulously at Harry, who grimaced awkwardly. Theo was sprawled out on one of the couches as if it were his own living room.
“Apparently we all had the same idea,” Harry said back, and Ron rolled his eyes.
“McGonagall told us if we wanted to do this, we had to do it today,” Zabini said back coldly.
“Of course she did,” Ron grumbled under his breath.
“Mr. Potter, and Mr. Weasley, it is so lovely to see you both in the shop today. It truly is an honor to fit you both,” one of the tailors moved over with his measuring tape floating at his side. Ron heard Malfoy scoff, and he shot him a dirty look, which Draco held.
“The Minister has selected five different styles and a variety of colors for you to try on. We have maroon, emerald green, charcoal grey, midnight blue, obsidian, and chocolate brown. Mr. Weasley, if you come with me, and Mr. Potter, go with Cyril there,” the wizard pushed, then grabbed Ron by the arms and guided him into a corner where the measuring tape moved all over his body.
“Do you think it’s preferential treatment, Cyril, that Potter and Weasley get fitted first even though we were here longer? It’s the Dark Marks, isn’t it?” Theo quipped, and Cyril, the other tailoring wizard, looked clearly uncomfortable.
“Theo,” Draco growled in his throat, and Theo waved it off.
Ron could have almost laughed, a smug satisfaction at these rich wankers having to wait on them.
“Harry, we don’t have to match Hermione or anything, do we?” Ron asked as the measuring tape lined up his inner thighs, a sensation he did not love.
“Ah, I don’t know. I didn’t ask,” Harry said back, confused.
“Ginevra and her are just up the street at Wendolyn’s Witches Wear. You could ask,” Blaise chimed in as he looked between the two.
Ron hated when he called her Ginevra, and a snotty retort was on the tip of his tongue when he remembered Ginny’s words: Do not be a prick. Before he could respond, Draco did.
“She is?” Draco's body sat up straight, his eyes darting quickly. Ron felt very unsurprised at the reaction.
“I can go ask, Potter. Doesn’t seem like we’re jumping into our fittings anytime soon,” Theo offered as he stood and stretched his legs.
“Thanks, Theo,” Harry said back with a small nod.
“Nott, if we do, can you tell her I’d prefer not to have to wear the maroon?” Ron said quickly, slight annoyance in his tone.
“I’ll make sure it’s the first thing I say,” Theo replied sarcastically, his smirk widening as he glanced down at Malfoy, who was giving his usual intense, cunty stare.
Theo vanished, leaving only Ron, Harry, Zabini, and Malfoy in the room, the atmosphere shifted. Malfoy seemed to pretend to look disinterested, even pouty, as the tailor ushered Ron into the changing room and tossed over a set of black robes. Ron quickly tried them on, liking how they looked on him.
The fitting continued, with the tailor throwing more colors and styles over the stall for Ron to try. As he stepped into a pair of chocolate brown robes, Theo's voice echoed in the room, followed by the muffled sounds of laughter from Draco, Blaise, and perhaps even Harry. "Granger said you don't have to match, but she asked to make sure that Weasley wouldn't be wearing the ones he wore to the Yule Ball,”
“She did not say that,” Ron retorted scathingly.
“Don’t Avada the messenger,” Theo quipped back. “I wonder if Parkinson will make me match with her, it seems like something she’d try to do,” he mused, loud enough for Ron to overhear.
Ron's ears perked up when he heard Draco's voice. “You’re taking Pans? You know, you both got an invitation. You don’t have to go with each other.”
“Saves us both from the mounds of classmates who are all of the sudden interested in us, so they can be a plus one. It was her idea, apparently, she’s gotten some lewd comments or asks,” Theo added, sparking instant anger in Ron.
Why hadn't Pansy told him about this?
In a burst of frustration, Ron emerged from the changing room, half-dressed, to face the others' confused and disgusted stares. “Harry, I’m going with the black,” he announced, handing the robes over to Cyril. “Alright, I’m probably going to do the blue-ish green,” Harry responded.
“It’ll match your eyes, Potter,” Theo remarked casually, earning odd looks from everyone, especially Draco.
“Ahhh, what was that about Parkinson, Nott?” Ron asked quickly, feeling a mix of curiosity and irritation. Draco's face changed into a smug expression as soon as Ron asked.
"Just that apparently she’s had some very forward blokes ask her to be her plus one, some more forward than others, if you get what I mean,” Theo said quickly.
“Do you know who?” Ron demanded, watching Zabini and Malfoy exchange smirks. He didn’t seem to care much anymore; his rage was bubbling over.
“Unfortunately, Parkinson kept that to herself. I’m sure she didn’t want the three of us in any trouble if we found out who, but seeing as your partners, I’m sure she’d tell you if you asked,” Theo smiled.
“Fucking gits” Ron growled under his breath, and he forgot where he was and who he was talking to.
“Ron,” Harry's voice tensed from over the top of the changing stall.
“Right,” Ron bit back.
He hated the thought of Pansy having to deal with shitty blokes. He remembered the comment George made—the Slytherin bicycle. Did other guys think they could just creep their way in and she’d give in to them?
He shouldn’t be worried about Pansy; she could hold her own he knew that, but he was angry she had to deal with it anyway. He was even more angry that it was orchestrated by her overbearing parents, who tried to match her with every damn pureblood aristocrat.
“Mr. Malfoy, if you’d like to come over, we’d be happy to start your fitting,” the other tailor waved Draco over, and he sauntered up, a grin still on his face as he walked past Ron.
“I’ll do any but the ones that Weasley or Potter took, for obvious reasons,” Malfoy quipped, and Harry finally shot open the curtain of his dressing room, handing the robes to Cyril.
“Should we go find Hermione and Gin?” Harry asked as he moved toward Ron, and Ron hesitated. He wasn’t really all that excited about the thought of hanging out with his sister and Hermione at the moment. He was still repressing thoughts in his mind of punching faceless guys who came up to Pansy.
“Ah, alright,” Ron snorted.
“Then we’ll see you later. Blaise here is meeting up with Ginny and Hermione after this at the Leaky, and we thought we’d tag along, didn’t we, Draco?” Theo snapped, and Draco looked venomous.
Fucking hell. This was not the day Ron wanted. He had already tolerated the Slytherins' company for the last hour. Would he actually be forced to sit with them longer? Harry would say no for them, he could count on that.
“Sounds great,” Harry smiled, and Ron looked over like he was a damn madman.
‘Sounds great?’ Those were the words that just came out of Harry’s mouth.
Draco looked murderous, and Blaise didn’t look too pleased either, but there was some odd exchange between Harry and Theo that Ron couldn’t place.
Ron and Harry exited the shop. Ron hadn’t said anything to him until they were clear of the storefront. “Sounds great?” Ron questioned.
“What? I don’t mind Theo, and Ginny did ask us to get to know Zabini. We are about to make this big speech next week about Unity; we should at least try not to talk complete bullshit,” Harry rounded as they entered Wendolyn’s Witch Wears.
“Bloody hell, you have too much of a conscience,” Ron rolled his eyes.
“Yeah, and so do you, don’t try and pretend you don’t,” Harry said back, as the ring of the doorbell went off.
Hermione was being fussed over, she hated being fussed over. McGonagall had made it clear that if she and Ginny wanted new dresses for the gala, they had to go today. So, with bushy hair and barely brushed teeth, Ginny and Hermione floo'd to Diagon Alley for their appointment at Wendolyn's Witch Wear.
Ginny was practically bouncing down the street, her hair billowing in the wind and her freckles glowing in the sunlight. She was in an unusually good mood, and Hermione couldn't help but wonder what had her friend so elated. Ginny's happiness was infectious, almost making Hermione jealous of how openly joyful she could be.
“Blaise asked me to spend the Easter holiday with him in Bolzano,” Ginny finally gushed as they sipped steaming cups of tea while walking toward the storefront.
“Bolzano? Like Italy?” Hermione asked, taken aback.
“Yes, that Bolzano. I said yes,” Ginny replied, her grin widening.
“Did you ask your Mum or Dad?” Hermione inquired, knowing Ginny's family had reservations about her relationship.
“I don’t think I need to. I'm an adult by all wizarding law,” Ginny said, tossing her hair back confidently.
“You should still ask. You don’t want to start this relationship off on the wrong foot,” Hermione advised.
“It's already off to a rocky start. Apparently, Mum is beside herself, according to Ron. But I’m going to force her to meet him at the Gala. It will be a public event; she can’t make a scene there,” Ginny declared, though Hermione wasn't as confident as Ginny seemed to be. She doubted Molly Weasley would hesitate to cause a scene in public.
“Let me know how that goes. I’ll be sure to avoid it next Saturday,” Hermione joked.
“How fun would it be if you and Malfoy came?” Ginny suddenly suggested, her eyes widening.
“To Italy?” Hermione asked, surprised by the proposal.
“I could ask Blaise. I'm sure he wouldn’t mind,” Ginny said.
“Gin, I thought you didn’t even like Malfoy?” Hermione questioned.
“I can be convinced if it means you get to come,” she smiled
“And what would I tell Harry or Ron? They'd surely ask what I was doing,” Hermione pointed out.
“Tell Harry to cover for you,” Ginny shrugged.
“Right. I’m honestly surprised he hasn’t pressed me again about telling Ron…”
“Just think about it. You don’t owe them an explanation for your Easter plans. I’ll mention it to Blaise,” Ginny said, pulling open the door to Wendolyn's, the doorbell ringing as they entered.
Ginny and Hermione were whisked to the backroom almost immediately after entering the store, where two witches bombarded them with every color gown and robe imaginable.
Theo had even popped in to ask about colors for Ron and Harry. She laughed at the thought that Draco, Zabini, Theo, Harry, and Ron were all forced to share a fitting room together.
They were stripped and clothed repeatedly, leaving Hermione feeling dizzy. Buying her dress for the Yule Ball had been much simpler; she had just ordered one from a catalog and it had turned out fine.
“No, Wendolyn, I don’t like the black. How many times do I need to tell you?” a shrill voice pierced the air, and Hermione recognized it as Pansy Parkinson's as she opened the fitting room door.
“Oh, Granger, Weasley,” Pansy eyed them both, her body half-covered in a lacy bralette and a small skirt with garters and tights. Hermione couldn't help but notice bruises on Pansy's throat, breasts, and collarbone, and she found herself staring a little longer than she should have.
“Nice hickeys, Parkinson,” Ginny quipped, but Pansy didn’t seem bothered in the slightest.
“Don’t pretend like your neck isn’t littered with them, knowing Zabini,” Pansy smirked back.
Draco hadn’t mentioned that Pansy was seeing anyone. Did he even know? It wasn’t really any of Hermione's business. It wasn’t a complete surprise; she had seen Pansy grinding with Michael Corner at Halloween. Perhaps it was him.
Ginny rolled her eyes at Pansy's comment.
“Fittings for the Gala, I assume?” Pansy snapped looking them both up and down.
“Fittings for your ride back to the underworld, to claim your place as Queen Bitch?” Ginny shot back.
Pansy smirked. “You know, Weasley, if you didn’t hate me, I think we’d be friends,” she said, and Ginny scoffed.
“Wendolyn, you can pack up the red. I’ll go with that. Invoice the account,” Pansy snapped, pulling the curtain close and throwing on a small cardigan over her bralette.
“Gin, I don’t know if I’m going to find anything here,” Hermione said, turning her attention back to the dress she was in. Everything felt wrong—the cut, the color—it just didn’t seem right. Ginny had already decided on a beautiful white dress with a deep plunging back and a halter top that hugged her curves and highlighted every freckle.
“We could always come back,” Ginny shrugged. Just as Pansy was about to walk out of the changing room, she paused.
“Granger, ask to try on the black. It has a golden serpent wrapping up the back. It could be hot,” Pansy said, not unkindly, which was very fucking surprising. Hermione turned to Wendolyn.
“I didn’t think that was really something of your style, Ms. Granger,” Wendolyn replied as she grabbed a ruched, tight black dress with a golden serpent slithering up her back, clasping the top straps together, with a high leg slit. As soon as Hermione tried it on, she knew it was perfect. It was one of the most provocative dresses she had ever worn, but she felt it was right.
Hermione and Ginny were getting their sizes and tailoring, Harry and Ron walked in, both looking slightly awkward as they surveyed the shop.
“Did you find everything you needed?” Harry asked Hermione quickly, trying to avoid Ginny’s gaze.
“We both got our dresses. How about you two?” Hermione looked back toward Ron and Harry.
“Yup, we got our robes,” Harry nodded. “Apparently we are all going to the Leaky?” he continued, and Hermione looked toward Ginny, confused.
“You’re both coming?” Ginny replied cautiously.
“Theo sort of invited us,” Harry replied, and Ron just stood there looking unamused.
“Alright… and you’re both going to...act...normal?” Ginny questioned.
“Normal? Why are you asking us that? You should be asking them that?” Ron finally interjected.
“Nope, you two aren’t coming,” Ginny declared firmly.
“Ginny, we’ll be fine. Alright?” Harry said, putting his arm on Ron, and Hermione felt her heart race. Draco wasn’t great at hiding his loathing of Ron and his affection for her, and she knew he would purposely pick at her, and make her squirm.
Ginny had made Ron promise not to be a total ass as the four of them walked up the street toward The Leaky Cauldron. When they entered the pub, it was bustling with Ministry witches and wizards moving around the bar. Hermione's eyes instantly sought out Draco as they scanned the room, as if drawn to his features.
She found him sitting at a dark booth at the back of the room, with Zabini and Theo lounging casually around him, a bottle of Fire whiskey and a few bottles of wine on the table. Ginny led the way forward.
Hermione couldn't help but notice Draco's eyes lingering on Ron and Harry as they flanked her sides.
“Lovely, you all made it. Wasn’t sure what everyone drank, so I got butterbeer, Fire Whiskey, Wine?” Theo smiled, and Hermione saw Harry smile back and sit down opposite him.
One side of the table was occupied by Draco, Theo, and Zabini, with Ginny bridging the gap, while Hermione, Ron, and Harry settled in on the other side.
Draco smirked suggestively at Hermione as he sipped his fire whiskey, while Ron awkwardly cleared his throat.
“This fire whiskey for everyone?” Ron asked quickly, already pouring himself a dram.
“Go ahead, mate,” Theo nodded.
“Great, thanks,” Ron said, downing it and making a face.
“Did you get the dress you wanted?” Zabini asked Ginny, moving closer to her and pouring a glass.
“Both Hermione and I ended up getting our dresses,” Ginny smiled, though the tension still lingered in the air. Ron poured himself another shot, and Draco reached out to pour Hermione a glass of wine.
“What’d you get, Granger?” Draco asked coolly, looking her up and down as if picturing her wearing nothing but her knickers, and she felt that hot flush roll up her body.
“It’s just a regular dress, nothing special,” she replied, pressing her glass to her lips.
“Should we play a game?” Theo asked into the void.
“No,” Draco and Blaise replied quickly.
“Why not?” Harry laughed.
“You don’t play games with Theo, Theo plays games with you,” Draco remarked, drinking deeper. Hermione noticed Harry's expression change, almost disappointed.
“Don’t tell lies, Draco; everyone likes my two lies, one truth game,” Theo insisted.
“Your what?” Ron asked, downing another shot. It was shot four, and Hermione was getting anxious.
“Ron, maybe you should slow down,” she whispered.
“Don’t tell me what to do, Hermione,” he retorted quickly.
“Maybe you should listen to her,” Draco intervened, and Hermione recognized the loathing in his eyes. Ron placed his glass on the table, about to shoot back, when a voice interrupted them.
“What the fuck is this?” Pansy Parkinson stood over the table, hand on her hip.
“What are you doing here?” Draco snapped.
“What are you doing here?” she spat back, gesturing around the table at the eclectic collection of them.
If you had asked Hermione a year ago, even in her wildest dreams, she wouldn't have pictured this.
“Drinking!” Theo said as he slammed a shot. “Blaise and Ginny were coming out for drinks and we all tagged along,” Theo explained, and Pansy glanced around the table. Hermione noticed Ron's shoulders untense.
“Right, and I didn’t make the invite list?” she looked directly at Ron, who looked like he was about to stumble something out.
“I didn’t realize you were in Diagon, love. Why are you here exactly?” Theo questioned quickly.
“I got my Gala dress today,” Pansy said, sitting down beside Draco.
“You did? I thought we would try and match?” Theo said, aghast.
“Why would we match?” Pansy grimaced.
“We always match,” Theo said, offended.
“No, we don’t,” Pansy shot back quickly, and Draco and Zabini chuckled.
“You’re ruining all my fun, Parkinson,” Theo pouted, sitting back and crossing his arms.
“It’s my goal in life,” she leaned over Draco and planted a kiss on Theo's cheek. Hermione didn’t like the way her stomach twisted in knots when Pansy leaned over Draco, the way she let her body brush against his. Draco kept his eyes locked on Hermione's the entire time as if he were reading her thoughts.
“I didn’t think you’d be here today,” Ron said quickly, sounding rushed. It was strange.
“I didn’t know I had to keep my project partner in the loop at all times,” she replied, grabbing a glass and pouring herself a drink, not meeting Ron’s eyes.
"I thought you'd at least keep me in the loop about certain things, but apparently not," Ron retorted, taking another sip of his drink.
Hermione shot him a puzzled glance, sensing there was something amiss from their recent hunt that had left him irritated with her, or whatever this mood was. Pansy exchanged a perplexed look with him.
“Pans, I was about to ask these Gryffindors if they wanted to play two truths one lie, and Draco and Blaise, so rudely said I shouldn’t,” Theo interjected and Pansy smiled.
“Why did you say no? Don’t think they can handle it?” she smirked, looking directly at Ron. Hermione watched his face flush oddly, then he downed another shot.
Draco continued to stare at her, those dark grey eyes fixed.
“It wouldn’t be fair. We should do it in teams: me, Hermione, Ron, and Gin, against you four. I would know instantly what is a lie and a truth if we didn’t,” Harry interjected.
“Are you sure about that, Potter?” Draco smirked, giving Hermione a small wink when Ron’s head was turned.
“Potter’s right. We should do it in teams,” Theo agreed, his eyes glinting mischievously.
“Pans goes first, she was the last to sit down,” Zabini added.
“Only because nobody told me about this weird group outing, but alright. Potter, Granger, Weasleys.” Pansy nodded. “I have two sisters, I’ve kissed three people at this table, and I’ve been asked to intern at the Department of Magical Games and Sports,” Pansy smirked, looking around the table.
Ron drank again, his palms sweaty as he wiped them on his jeans. Hermione focused on Pansy, trying to decipher the lie; she was positive it was the last one.
“The last one, that’s the lie,” Hermione said quickly, unable to stand being wrong.
“Great guess, Granger, but you’re wrong. It’s the second one. I’ve only kissed two people at this table,” Pansy smirked, and Ron cleared his throat again.
Hermione tried to think about who they would have been; she was sure one was Draco, something she did not want to picture. The other must have been Nott; they were too close. Hermione's thoughts couldn't help but wander back to the hickeys peppering Pansy's skin, and she found herself wondering if Draco's lips had ever left such marks on her. An instant surge of jealousy surged through her, but she quickly suppressed it.
“Are you going to tell us who, Parkinson? Or keep the Gryffindors guessing?” Zabini said with a smile, and Hermione watched as Ginny gave him a soft elbow in the stomach.
“What’s the fun in that?” Pansy said with a click of her tongue. Ron shifted beside Hermione again, almost knocking her glass over with his elbows.
“Ron, are you alright?” Hermione asked as she moved her glass, and he just nodded quickly, glancing around the booth.
“Alright, who wants to go on your team?” Theo smirked.
“I’ll go,” Ginny answered quickly.
“My first time was with Harry, I fell off Fred’s broomstick at 11 and broke my arm, and it’s never been healed properly, and I’ve never seen a Muggle TV show,” Ginny finished. It was an okay first attempt, Hermione thought Ginny could have done better.
“It’s the first. You told us last time in Hogsmeade you lost your virginity to Thomas,” Zabini responded quickly.
“Gross, immediately gross, and I didn’t know that nor did I need to know that. Harry, did you know that?!” Ron said, repulsed.
“I knew that,” Harry laughed.
“Alright, one point for team Slytherin, zero for team Gryffindor,” Theo joked, and Hermione rolled her eyes.
“Draco, come on, your turn,” Theo urged.
“Really, Nott?” Draco pushed back.
Hermione's stomach did flip-flops, slightly concerned about what he’d say. Draco had the ability to unhinge just for the thrill of it, not to the extent of Theo, but she didn’t want to risk it, not here, not with Ron and Harry letting their guards down.
“Come on, Draco,” Zabini laughed.
Draco let out a reluctant huff, “My biggest fear is being poor,” Ron let out a wild annoyed snort. “I did know it was Potter last year, and I love muggle dance music,” Draco finished.
“It’s the last one, right?” Ron whispered to Harry and Hermione, but Hermione knew.
“The first one is a lie,” she said confidently.
“Is it?” Draco asked.
“I saw your boggart, I know your biggest fear,” Hermione said, and the rest of the table looked toward Draco with eyes wide.
“Granger, I’ll give you a hundred galleons if you tell me what that is,” Zabini offered.
“Two hundred,” Pansy added.
“Granger’s right... the first is a lie,” Draco leaned back against the booth, finishing his glass.
“So, you did know it was me last year? I guess I have you to thank that I’m not dead?” Harry quipped, and the booth went silent.
“What? Like we all didn’t see the same reality? I died,” Harry finished.
“Well mate, I didn’t last much longer than ya,” Ron laughed, and Hermione looked at him with surprise, he had clearly had too much to drink.
“Weasley,” Pansy warned, her tone carrying a weight that made Hermione pause.
She watched as Ron smiled back at Pansy, seemingly oblivious to the underlying tension in her black eyes.
“Ron, you died?” Ginny asked earnestly.
“Oh, I died,” Ron responded with a reluctant chuckle.
“Ron, I don’t think any of us needs to relive that,” Pansy reiterated, her words tinged with a hint of admonition.
Hermione glanced over at her in surprise, realizing that she had never heard Pansy address him by his first name. Draco's gaze flickered between Pansy and Ron, sensing the unspoken tension between them.
Pansy had seen Ron die, Hermione hadn’t thought of it until now, and what that would have been like.
“I said this the other day, but… we all know those realities were created by the Ministry. They may not have ever come to light even if you had lost Potter,” Zabini said, looking over hesitantly.
The group fell silent for a moment, Hermione pondering the implications of Blaise’s words. It hadn’t occurred to her before that the Department of Mysteries might have manipulated what they saw. She would have to inquire further about it at the Gala, there would have to be Unspeakable there, and she would try to pry it out of them.
“Zabini is right,” Ron finally said, Ron's sudden alignment with Blaise's sentiment left Hermione speechless, her eyes darting to him. Draco, too, seemed taken aback by Ron's unexpected agreement.
"I'm sorry, what?" Draco asked, his expression reflecting his disbelief.
"Zabini's right," Ron reiterated, his tone firm. "After everything, the Ministry has put us all through, especially you, Harry…..… I mean, I know we like Kingsley and all, but that doesn’t mean I trust the place. Merlin only knows what the hell they’ll throw at us next. It’s like psychological warfare as if we needed more of that." He finished, slightly slurring.
“You know, I didn’t think of you as much competition Weasley, but I may need to reevaluate that,” Theo smirked, and Draco looked puzzled.
"I don’t think that was a compliment," Ron grimaced, sensing the underlying tone.
"It wasn’t," Pansy chuckled, clarifying with a laugh.
"Granger, your turn," Theo interjected swiftly.
Hermione's cheeks flushed. Draco's smile, aimed directly at her, sparked an ache she both hated and was desperate for, she was being tormented by the proximity between them, wishing she could touch him.
“Okay…” she breathed. “I once trapped Rita Skeeter in a jar for two weeks, I kissed Cormac McLaggen, and I used to have a crush on Harry in the first year,” Hermione finished.
“What?!” Ron rounded on her.
“Good gods, I hope it’s the second that’s a lie or the third… I don’t know which is worse,” Draco grimaced.
“Thanks, Malfoy,” Harry rolled his eyes.
“Alright… personally, I think it’s the second,” Pansy said toward Draco and Theo.
“It might be the third,” Theo questioned.
“Is it crazy that none of us think that it’s completely unbelievable that Granger trapped Skeeter in a jar?” Zabini laughed.
“Oh, that happened, no doubt, but in no universe do I want to picture you snogging McLaggen,” Draco retorted scathingly, the hint of jealousy in his tone.
“Okay… let’s go with that then,” Pansy finished.
“It’s the last one. I’ve never had anything but platonic feelings for Harry,” Hermione smiled.
“You snogged McLaggen?!” Draco and Ron said at the same time.
“I was actually trying to make Ron jealous by taking Cormac to Slughorn's Christmas Party, then he got too handsy under the mistletoe and kissed me. I immediately pushed him off and hid behind a curtain for the rest of the evening,” Hermione added.
“He kissed you and it wasn’t consensual?” Draco flared
“Well, it wasn’t exactly warranted, but I wouldn’t use ‘nonconsensual,’” Hermione finished, watching as Draco gripped his glass tightly and his jaw twitched dangerously.
“I didn’t know that,” Ron slurred. “Honestly, ‘Mione, you really could have kissed anyone else, and that would have been better,” he finished in disgust.
“Even Malfoy?” Theo jumped in, and Hermione could have wrung his throat.
“Yeah… bloody Malfoy would have been better,” Ron sloshed, and all of them looked around the table, clearly Ron had had too much to drink.
Draco's eyes shimmered with an intensity that made Hermione nervous, his movements quick as he approached the edge of the table.
"Ready to put that to the test, Weasley?" His grin was infectious, spreading across his face like wildfire. Ron looked utterly bewildered, and Hermione's heart raced at the mere thought of kissing Draco right there, amidst the chatter of the crowded table.
"We should probably get him back," Pansy suggested, her gaze shifting from Ron's face to Hermione and Ginny.
"Yeah, I'll take Ron," Harry volunteered, stepping forward and taking hold of Ron's arm.
"I'll come too," Pansy added unexpectedly. Hermione couldn't help but find it curious. Pansy seemed genuinely concerned about him, suggesting they might have been getting along better than Hermione had assumed.
“I’m fine!” Ron slurred.
"I'll go as well," Theo chimed in, sliding out of the booth and heading towards where Ron was swaying, with Harry guiding him. Pansy stood with her arms crossed in her typically haughty manner, while Theo sported his usual grin, seemingly unfazed by the chaos unfolding around them.
It didn’t take long for the four of them to head over to the Floo at The Leaky, and for Ginny to get more comfortable in Zabini’s arms as soon as her brother and her ex disappeared into the green flames.
"So, can we drop the act and admit you two are obsessed with each other now? Merlin's beard, Malfoy, I swear you were about to leap over the table at her just then," Ginny remarked with a knowing smirk.
“Gin!” Hermione chided.
“What?” Ginny smirked.
"I must say, I thought I did a rather decent job," Draco remarked, his smirk growing wider. "I even considered testing the waters by sliding my hand up your skirt, but I couldn't be certain it wouldn't end up on the wrong thigh," he added, his tone teasing.
Ginny spat out her drink a little, clearly taken aback by Draco's words.
"Draco..." Hermione scolded, though her words held a hint of amusement, and Draco simply winked back at her.
"Do you reckon your brother will always need to be that plastered to tolerate us?" Blaise interjected with a chuckle.
"Probably... Oh! Blaise, do you think Malfoy and Hermione should join us for Easter?" Ginny piped up eagerly.
"Easter?" Draco echoed, surprised.
"I invited Ginny to Bolzano... I suppose she’s extending the invitation to you two now," Blaise explained casually, taking a sip of his drink without a trace of concern.
"You're okay with that, Blaise?" Draco asked.
"Theo will be insanely envious... so why not?" Blaise laughed.
"Granger... Italy in April?" Draco's smirk widened, and Hermione's heart skipped a beat. The idea of being with him in a place where she wouldn't have to hide their relationship lingered tantalizingly on the table.
"Italy in April," she affirmed, raising her glass in agreement.
Notes:
Do we think by the end of this, they'll all finally warm to each other?
Chapter 38: Detention
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Harry knew they were in deep shit the moment he saw McGonagall's stern expression. He and Theo struggled to hold up Ron as they emerged from the fireplace, with Pansy trailing behind. McGonagall’s’ arms were crossed, and her lips were tight as she eyed all four of them.
"Shit," Pansy muttered under her breath as McGonagall fixed them with a sharp stare.
"Shit is right, Ms. Parkinson. Would you mind explaining what is going on here?" McGonagall's tone left no room for evasion.
“Weasley is feeling unwell, perhaps something he ate?” Theo attempted to offer an excuse, but Harry knew it wouldn’t work.
"Or perhaps it was an entire bottle of Fire Whiskey?" McGonagall interjected, cutting through Theo’s feeble attempt at a lie.
"Professor, it's not as bad as it looks," Harry ventured, but Ron's incoherent mumbling only worsened the situation.
"Potter, Nott, take Weasley back to your Common Room immediately and ensure that nobody sees him in this state. I expected more from you, Weasley, and you too, Potter. You are meant to set examples for the younger students. I'll see you four in detention Monday morning, and I assume Mr. Zabini, Ms. Granger, Mr. Malfoy, and Ms. Weasley will also be returning smelling of a pub sink?" McGonagall snapped.
"Yes, Professor," Theo, Pansy, and Harry chorused, while Ron managed a slurred affirmation. “Yes..Proess..Professsssor,”
"That's enough. Just go," McGonagall sighed, clearly disgusted as she returned to her desk. As they exited her office.
"Do you think we should warn them? Tell them to find another way into the castle?" Pansy asked Theo.
"By the time an owl or a Patronus got there, it would be too late," Theo reasoned as he and Harry carried Ron between them. "Also, this is the second time I've had to carry a Gryffindor back to their dorm room after they got plastered. You all really need to learn to hold your liquor," he added with a laugh.
"There seems to be a correlation between those two things," Harry remarked,
“Oh, you can’t blame this on me,” Theo laughed.
“Parkinson, do you want us to take him to your room, or his?” Harry asked, his patience wearing thin. Pansy looked stunned at the suggestion.
“Excuse me, Potter? My room? Why would I want Weasley in my room?” Pansy feigned repulsion.
“You can drop the act. I know all about you and Ron, whatever it is,” Harry said bluntly.
“Oh. You do?” Pansy halted behind them; her voice tinged with uncertainty. “Look, Potter, I know you hate me but…” Pansy began, but Harry quickly interrupted her.
“I don’t hate you. Why do you think I hate you?” Harry responded, confused by her assumption.
“Because I was the girl who tried to hand you over to Voldemort, and your best friends used to date each other, aren’t anymore, and now I’m involved with Weasley?” Pansy said, her confidence sounding forced.
“So? I don’t hate Malfoy or Nott, and I’m not the biggest fan of Zabini, but that may be because his hands are all over my ex-girlfriend,” Harry responded.
He hadn’t really blamed Pansy for what she had done last year, and he had barely thought about it since. He didn’t expect everyone to die for him.
“You like him, right? Because he likes you” Harry added glancing over to Theo, who had a massive grin on his face. Theo's eyes blazed back at Harry, and Harry felt that familiar lump in his throat.
“That’s a very personal question, Potter,” Pansy said quickly, catching up to them. “But yes, you can bring him to his room, and I’ll just stay for the evening,” she added, clearing her throat. Harry smirked to himself.
“Alright, but it’s not pretty when he wretches; he sounds like a crup,” Harry laughed as the Common Room door swung open.
“Delightful,” Pansy huffed as she moved toward Ron's room, opening the door as Theo and Harry dragged Ron behind her and tossed him onto his bed, Pansy swiftly summoned a few trash bins and then went to his closet to retrieve some of his large t-shirts. It was odd seeing her act so compassionate; Harry hadn't really thought of her as someone with a softer side. She moved around Ron easily, speaking to him gently as she approached the bed and ran her fingers through his hair.
Harry couldn't help but notice how differently Pansy handled Ron compared to Hermione. While Hermione was undoubtedly compassionate, she didn't often show it through physical touch or comforting gestures. Pansy's approach seemed almost maternal, although Harry knew it would be fucking strange to describe it that way.
“We’ll leave you to it then?” Theo added as he made his way towards the door.
“Parkinson, you’ll be alright with this?” Harry chimed in, waving his hands over Ron’s unmoving body.
“I’ve been friends with Malfoy, Zabini, and Nott for years; this isn’t my first time nursing a drunkard,” she laughed, flashing a smile at Theo.
“I’ve never!” Theo said back, aghast.
“The summer incident at my Paris apartment?” Pansy retorted.
“Right, well, goodnight, Pans,” Theo swiftly moved to the door, and Harry followed him out.
“What is the summer incident? This is the second time it was mentioned,” Harry asked as they shut the door.
“You remembered that? I thought you didn’t remember anything from Christmas,” Theo smirked as they walked toward their second-floor dormitories.
Harry felt a surge of heat rise in his cheeks as Theo leaned against the wall, the golden flecks in his eyes locking with Harry's. That smirk, that perfect face—being alone with Theo was dangerous, but Harry found himself unable to resist.
Harry reached for his door, "Are you going to invite me in?" Theo's voice was smooth, sending a vibration through him. He hesitated for a moment, unsure how to respond.
"Ah, yeah... I don't have all that much to offer," Harry stammered. "Maybe a few bottles of butterbeer?"
Theo's smile widened, sending Harry's heart racing. "I think you have a lot to offer, Potter," he said, his finger trailing down Harry's chest as he confidently stepped past him into the room.
Theo had been here before when they first became partners, but this time felt different—more intimate, somehow.
"Do you like music?" Theo asked, nodding towards Harry's small radio. Harry usually just played something on the wizard wireless, but he had a CD player stashed away at Grimmauld Place, now he wished he had brought.
Theo tapped the wizarding radio, and it began playing a light, jazzy song that Harry had never heard before. He watched as Theo surveyed the room, feeling slightly self-conscious. Was it clean enough? Did it look okay? Did it smell strange?
"You said you had butterbeer?" Theo's smile brought Harry back to the present, and he moved towards the cabinet to retrieve the drinks. With a quick flick of his wand, Harry cast a cooling charm over both bottles as Theo deftly cracked them open, the familiar sound of fizz filling the room.
Theo looked at Harry with curiosity as he pushed his hair out of his face, he wore perfectly tailored brown trousers and a cream short-sleeve waffle button-up. A signet ring wrapped on his pinky finger, and a large brown watch on his wrist.
"Are you nervous around me?" Theo questioned, and Harry couldn't help but feel a pang of anxiety. Being this close to Theo alone always made him nervous. He stirred something within him that he had never experienced before, and Harry thought he had experienced almost everything.
"A little, yeah," Harry admitted honestly. The last time they were alone, he had kissed Theo impulsively, unable to resist the pull he felt towards him.
Theo bit his lip in response. "Yet last time we were alone, you snogged me."
Harry sighed, trying to find the right words to explain the complex of emotions pumping through his mind. "You're the only person who makes me feel something. This sounds insane, but I feel like I lost a piece of my soul last year, like I've been haunting my own body. When I kiss you, I feel alive again... but ahh…I’m probably not explaining this very well," he said quickly.
“I want to continue to be the person who gives you what you need,” Theo’s voice was raw.
Harry was speechless, his heart pounding in his chest as Theo inched closer, his hands gently cupping his cheeks. The touch sent tingles like electricity coursing through Harry's body. Theo's thumb traced the curve of Harry's lip.
"What can I give you?" Harry's voice trembled; his eyes locked on Theo's.
"Don't ask me that," Theo's voice was barely a whisper, his lips hovering dangerously close. "You don't want to know how much I want from you."
Harry's breath caught in his throat as his words hung in the air between them. Draco's warning echoed in his mind, reminding him of the dangerous game they were playing.
"Malfoy said you love to play games. This isn’t one of them?" Harry's voice wavered as he spoke.
"I do love playing games," Theo admitted, his stare unwavering. "And I have been playing a game with you. But you've been playing me right back."
"I didn't realize I was..." he trailed off, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Giving me glimpses of you, giving me moments I can take, then ripping them away... that's not a game?” Theo said delicately.
“I said I'd help you through this... and I will, if you'll let me. Then I can take what I want from you," he continued to whisper, moving closer.
His hand trailed down the front of Harry's jeans and placed a delicious amount of pressure right on his cock.
Harry groaned at his touch, his body feeling like liquid fire.
Theo seized the opportunity, pressing his lips against Harry's, their tongues dancing in a frenzy as Harry's mind went blank, consumed by Theo. But just as quickly as it began, he pulled away, leaving Harry wanting for more. It was as if someone had opened a window and a gusty draft was let in.
"Thanks for the butterbeer, Potter," Theo smiled, licking his lips where Harry's saliva lingered.
"You're... leaving?" Harry stuttered, noticing the bulge in his pants.
"We're going to take our time," Theo replied smoothly.
"Right, of course," Harry muttered, feeling a twinge of desperation in his tone.
Theo cracked his knuckles and moved past Harry, hiding a delighted grin as he headed for the dormitory door.
"Oh, and about the Gala... I chose blue green as well. I guess I'll match someone after all," he winked before shutting the door behind him.
Harry collapsed onto his bed, his heart still rattling in his chest, his erection pressing uncomfortably against his pants.
Fuck.
He knew he was in over his head. Part of him didn't want Theo to leave, but another part was relieved he did. He needed time to process all of this. He couldn't rush into anything. Confusion swirled within him. He wasn't sure how he felt, but one thing was certain: the moment Theo left, Harry felt a familiar sense of loneliness creeping back in. And despite the uncertainty, he wanted Theo.
Draco woke up annoyed; they had wound up in detention all because fucking Weasley couldn't hold his damn booze. Hermione had been so distraught she didn’t even want to stay in his room to quote “not push their luck.” He wasn't really sure what that meant. Did she expect McGonagall to pop up out from the Floo mid-shag to scold them more? It was mad.
He almost had her last tonight, he almost went in for the kill, for the kiss. He'd love nothing more than to tongue her in front of Weasley, to show him what it was truly like to taste her. But Pansy got him out of there before he could.
Italy was a perfectly acceptable alternative. Too bad Zabini and the Weasley girl had to be there. Otherwise, he'd tie her to his bed, and they wouldn’t leave for days. But by all standards of hospitality, that would be rude.
McGonagall had assigned them all different detentions. Zabini and Ginny had to help Hooch clean up the splinters from Bludgers in the stands on the Quidditch pitch.Hermione and Pansy had to tutor younger students in Arithmancy. Potter had to assist McGonagall in going through Dumbledore's old office. In the Trophy Room, Weasley was back to shining with Filch, perhaps the worst punishment. For some reason, Theo got to help the elves in the kitchen. Draco wasn’t exactly sure how he talked his way into getting fed and fawned over for four hours.
As for Draco himself, he had to clean out the private cupboard and the store cupboard in the Potions corridor. Honestly, he couldn’t complain much; he was sure it wouldn’t take too much time, then he could put his boots up and flip throw a book for the last three hours.
Draco made his way down to the dungeons after the day's classes and dinner, he walked the familiar haunt he had years before. Coming down here without Snape; even having Slughorn as a professor felt odd. But Slughorn gave him a few directions on what needed to be done, and Draco entered his office.
He was cataloging Slughorn's private store and then the student cupboard; as Draco walked into Slughorn's office, he was slightly tempted by the idea of grabbing a bottle of Ogden's and downing it, but he decided to be the good Draco, the behaved Draco, although the depraved Draco was scratching at his skin.
He opened the cabinet, pulling out Aconite, Abraxan hair, and Aromantual Venom… he definitely wanted to nick that. He hadn’t had a non-diluted vial in months. As he moved through, organizing based on toxicity, acidity and what two components couldn’t even sit next to each other, he heard the voice he never thought he’d hear again.
"Billywig wings next to Bloodroot? Have I taught you nothing, Mr. Malfoy, or do you want to burn Professor Slughorn's office to the ground?" Severus Snape loomed above him in a portrait frame that Draco hadn’t even seemed to have noticed.
Fucking hell.
“I was just setting them aside,” Draco rounded, gritted teeth.
“For what? An explosion?” Snape pushed.
“I didn’t realize your portrait was in here. I’m assuming McGonagall did when she assigned me this detention. Seemed too good to be true,” Draco grimaced.
"Cease your insolence, Draco," Snape's voice dripped with disdain. "Your lingering grudge remains clear, even in death," he remarked.
Draco rolled his eyes. Of course, he still held the grudge. Snape took the Unbreakable Vow, killed Dumbledore to save his soul, and protected him at every corner, and yet, he never once told him why, never told him it was all for Potter.
If Snape believed his soul could be redeemed, why not give him a chance to do it himself? But Draco wasn’t even sure he would have taken it then. He still blamed Snape, blamed his father, blamed the Dark Lord. Most of all, he blamed himself.
"It's not a grudge I'm holding, it's resentment, Professor," Draco said back coolly.
"You comprehend nothing of the cavernous chasm of resentment, incapable of truly understanding the bitter taste of self-loathing. I shielded you, and Lily’s son, yet I understand it was due to my own foolishness, my misplaced trust in those unworthy of it," Snape lamented.
"I know more than you think of misplaced trust," Draco snapped back.
“Why do you think I took the actions I did for your mother? For Dumbledore? Your prospects for redemption outweighed mine, Draco. I bestowed upon you the care and affection of a father, though I understand if your perception differs." Snape concluded.
Draco huffed. He knew that without the sacrifices Snape had made, Draco would never have been able to crawl from that dark pit, if he had murdered Dumbledore.
"I do understand your actions for Potter... It took me a while to grasp. I've never had someone for whom I'd go to such lengths for before now." Draco breathed.
"Yes, you did,” Snape affirmed, his voice softened with a rare warmth. "The mark on your arm, a testament to the empathy and love you held for your parents, not the Dark Lord,”
"I was a bloody terrified teenage boy, willing to do anything to prevent losing my parents, to prevent losing everything I had—status, wealth. But now I realize there are things worth risking it all for," Draco's thoughts immediately shifted to Hermione, how he would do anything to be with her, to protect her, to bask in the warmth of her smile.
"Ah, young love, how repulsive," Snape oozed, breaking Draco from his reverie. Annoyed, Draco returned to organizing the bottles, silently arguing with the portrait in his mind. He felt like he belonged in St Mungo's psychiatric ward.
"Do tell me it's not Parkinson," Snape sneered, probing into Draco's personal life.
"It's not Pansy," Draco replied curtly, shutting down any further discussion on the matter.
"You might consider placing the Cockroaches next to the Death-Cap; they complement each other, balancing out their properties. Or perhaps your grasp of basic potion fundamentals has slipped from your mind?" Snape queried with a hint of exasperation in his tone.
How much longer was this going to take, Draco nodded to himself rearranging once again.
"It's Hermione Granger, the girl... it's Granger," Draco blurted out, his words escaping before he could stop them.
He felt a surge of regret flood through him, already planning his retreat to St. Mungo's or contemplating the depths of the lake as a final escape.
"The insufferable know-it-all? How unsurprising" Snape retorted.
"Unsurprising? Are you serious?" Draco shot back, his frustration bubbling to the surface.
"I do not jest, Mr. Malfoy," Snape replied icily.
"I do not fucking understand how in any world, real or painted, you, of all people find it unsurprising that Draco Malfoy’s cold blackened heart only beats for Hermione Granger," Draco retorted sharply.
"Because that's precisely what cold, blackened hearts do—they beat for the sole light in their desolate worlds. Trust me, I know," Snape finished quietly.
Fuck.
Draco just admitted his heart only beat for her? It was true, but he had never said it out loud before. He silently stowed away the remaining ingredients before departing to complete the store cupboard in the classroom, his mind feeling weighed down with contemplation. He didn't respond to his old head of house until he reached the door.
"Professor, how... how long does it last? The constant fear? The agony that you may lose her?" Draco inquired.
"Always," Snape concluded with a heavy sigh.
Draco made his way back to his Common Room, he knew McGonagall wanted him in that room with Snape, for some fucking inexplicable reason. And strangely enough, he felt... better?
Somehow, talking to Snape had alleviated some of his misery. Granger had a similar effect on him, but coming from a man who had committed so many despicable acts, all for what he believed to be the right reasons, it was surprising if Snape, with his history of darkness, could find some semblance of redemption, perhaps Draco could too.
The idea of winning the Chalice, his beacon of salvation, now felt distant. He hadn't entertained the thought since Christmas. It had been his plan all along – win the Scavenger Hunt and win the bloody Chalice to cleanse him of the Dark Mark, to purge the stain of his family's allegiance to the Dark Lord. But that was before he truly knew Hermione Granger. Before he understood her, felt her pain from the loss of her parents. Would erasing his mark ease her burden? Would it free her from the judgment and whispers that would plague their relationship? He knew now what it meant to surrender everything for her sake, and he fucking would.
He pushed open the door to his dormitory, and there she was, his own personal angel amidst a sea of books. The flickering firelight played across her chocolate curls as she slept in his bed.
He couldn't help but stand there, captivated by how stunning she was. These moments, with her in his space, felt like stolen treasures, his bed, his girl.
Draco approached, the creak of the mattress under his weight stirred her from her sleep.
Fuck, he ruined it.
Yet, as she blinked sleepily up at him, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of warmth at the sight of her tired eyes.
Fuck, she ruined him.
"You're so late," she mumbled, her voice heavy with drowsiness.
"I couldn't afford to do a slack job. Can't let my reputation as the top Potions student be tarnished,"
"I'm the best potions student," she countered, making room for him beside her.
"Whatever helps you sleep at night, Granger," he replied, slipping into bed beside her.
“You help me sleep at night,” she said, batting those lashes at him. His heart practically stopped.
“I'm going to tell Ron,” She murmured, nestling into his arms.
Draco was still frozen, but his was mind racing at her words. Had he heard correctly? Was she really planning to tell Weasley?
The thought sent a surge of panic through him. He was desperate for everyone to know that Hermione belonged to him, but the prospect of their relationship being exposed filled him with dread. The scrutiny, the criticism—it would be relentless. And Hermione... She would bear the brunt of it all. The thought of it made his stomach churn, and he knew his rage could never handle it.
Fuck, he despised himself for putting her in this position.
"When?" he managed to ask, his voice strained with apprehension, though he tried to mask it.
"After the gala this Saturday," she replied, her tone resolute. "I think it's best if we get through that first. Besides, the night in Diagon Alley wasn't as bad as I feared. I'm tired of hiding this, of hiding us. Ron is the first step."
"I just want to know when I should have my wand ready for a duel, and I'll get Nott to help with the burial spot when I no doubt have to hide the body," Draco quipped, eliciting a stir from her.
"Neither of you is going to Avada each other," she scoffed, rolling her eyes.
"Each other? You think Weasley has a shot at 'Avadaing' me?" Draco scoffed back; his tone laced with incredulity.
"I'll tell you when I'm going to speak with him, and if he does happen to approach you in a raging Ron fit, you are going to be polite and collected," Hermione joked.
"Granger, I'll be one or the other but never both at the same time,”
"Draco Malfoy polite and unhinged, or collected and rude?" Hermione laughed; he loved that laugh.
"You're learning... good girl," Draco teased, nuzzling his head into her curls. He could practically hear her swoon; she fucking loved it.
"There is something I want to do to you, the night of the Gala," he confessed, feeling his dragon stir within him. He had envisioned this moment countless times, indulging in the fantasies of her submitting to him completely, of marking her as his own, of hearing her beg for him
"What?" Hermione's voice quivered. Draco watched the subtle movements of her thighs; she was squeezing them together and he swore he could almost hear the throbbing from between them.
"If you stay the night again... in my room at the Manor, will you let me live out a fantasy I've had of you for so long?" he murmured, his breath hot against her ear.
He could see the innocence in her eyes, and he felt a sickness in him to exploit it even more than he already had.
"What is it?" she asked her sweetness too much for the fucking filthy thoughts swirling in his mind.
"I want to claim you completely, to hear you beg for more….to take ownership of your pussy... before the wizarding world knows it's mine… I want you to scream out just for me," Draco whispered, his lips brushing against her skin,
“Will you be a good girl, and let me?” he asked again when she became non-verbal.
"Yes," she moaned, drawing herself back into him, her tight ass grinding against his cock.
“I have a surprise for you too," she whispered.
Draco groaned; intoxicated by the feel of her body pressed against his.
Fucking hell, he was in love with Hermione Granger.
Notes:
Next Chapter - the beginnings of the Gala! Who's POV are you most excited about? Harry, Hermione, Draco, or Rons?
Chapter 39: The Gala Part. I
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Ginny admired herself one last time in the mirror before heading to the 8th-year Common Room to meet Blaise, Ron, Harry, and Hermione. She thought she looked rather pretty, with her curled hair cascading over her shoulders and her white dress hugging the parts of her body she liked best.
She was about to leave her dorm when Romilda piped up with her usual snide comment. “Don’t you look nice… all that just for a Slytherin?” she laughed, which instantly annoyed Ginny.
Romilda was always making snippy comments about her choices, whether it was her relationship with Harry and now her house loyalty.
“No, all this for a party, one that you’re not invited to. But by now you must be used to not getting invitations anywhere.” Ginny smirked, and with that, she walked out the door, her night was already off to a great start having one-upped the smug bitch.
When Ginny entered the 8th-year Common Room, it was bustling with activity, and she received plenty of comments from the Patil twins, Seamus, and even Dean about her dress as she made her way toward Ron's room. Spotting Daphne Greengrass and Neville in the corner, dressed in their finest robes and laughing, Ginny couldn't help but find it intriguing that they were going to the Gala together.
"Are we all ready?" Ginny asked as she entered the room, finding her brother still buttoning up his jacket while Harry stood awkwardly, sipping on a glass of mead.
"You look nice, Gin," Harry nodded, and Ron scoffed as he finished buttoning himself up. Hermione had yet to arrive, and neither had Blaise. He had been reluctant to meet in Ron's room, but he had agreed, as she knew he would.
"Thanks, Harry. You both look dashing. And do you have your speeches ready?" she asked, glancing at the notes tucked into Ron's pocket.
"As best as I could manage," Ron grumbled as a knock sounded on the door. Ginny moved to open it, and Blaise was standing there in dark green dress robes, towering over her with a smile that made her knees weak. He smelled of sandalwood and sage.
"You look absolutely fucking delicious," he murmured, leaning in for a light kiss, prompting Ron to interject with a disgusted sound.
"Not here!” He spat as Blaise awkwardly stepped into the room.
"Alright, Potter? Weasley?" Blaise nodded, and Harry simply returned the nod. "It would be better if you weren't ogling my sister," Ron remarked, earning a scowl from Ginny.
"I brought a little bottle of champagne. Thought we could crack it before we go?" Blaise quickly suggested, ignoring Ron’s comment and casting a glance around the room.
"Ah, yeah, sure...... that’s kind," Ron replied, sounding as though it physically pained him, while Harry stood still, looking somewhat awkward.
Another smaller knock echoed from the door just as Blaise began handing out glasses of champagne, and Hermione entered. Ginny was utterly floored; she had never seen Hermione look... well, look so Slytherin. Pansy had been right—the dress was hot.
Hermione wore a tight, long black gown with a daring slit up to her thigh. It was backless except for two intricately wrought silver serpents winding up her spine, connecting to the straps. Her hair was pulled in a messy updo that showed off the massive gems Draco had gifted her for Christmas dangling from her ears and with the matching necklace sitting on her collarbone.
"Merlin, Hermione, you look fucking hot," Ginny gasped, while Ron, Harry, and Blaise's eyes widened in surprise.
"'Mione... is that what you're wearing?" Ron nearly choked,
"What's wrong with it?" Hermione snapped back.
"It's just very unlike you. You look... well, you look like you belong in Slytherin," Ron commented, his tone laden with disbelief. "Also, where did you get those?" Ron asked finally noticing the massive gemstones that had hung from Hermione's ears for a month now.
"Really, Ron? Are you just noticing these now? I've had them for months," Hermione retorted.
"I've never seen them before. Where did you get them?" He looked back incredulous.
"Because you never pay attention. I've already told you," Hermione snapped, not missing a beat, and Ginny and Harry exchanged knowing looks.
"I love the look, Granger. I'm sure I won't be the only one," Blaise chimed in, sipping his drink and coming to Hermione's defense, while Hermione’s cheeks flushed, undoubtedly thinking of Malfoy.
"Thank you, Blaise, and it's the Unity Project Gala, Ronald. I thought I'd make a statement," Hermione huffed.
"It's a statement, alright," Ron replied rudely.
"Don't be such an ass, Ron," Ginny added sharply.
"You don't have anything to say, Harry?" She turned her attention to Harry, who looked a bit bewildered by the sudden focus on him.
"Yeah... uh, you look... great, Hermione," Harry replied, glancing around nervously. Hermione grimaced slightly as Blaise handed her a glass of champagne.
"Are we ready? I believe they don’t want you three to be late,” Blaise interjected quickly looking between Ron, Harry, and Hermione
"McGonagall connected the Floo in the Common Room to the Floo in the entrance to Malfoy Manor, so once we finish these, we can go," Harry added, downing his glass immediately, with Ron following suit.
They decided to go in pairs since they couldn't all fit in the hearth at once. Ginny felt a bit silly as it seemed the entire Common Room was watching their exit, shouting words of encouragement or light jabs. Harry went first, then Hermione and Ron, and finally Blaise grabbed Ginny's arm, leading her into the hearth.
She felt a sudden surge of panic as the green flames burst all around them. She shut her eyes tightly, and just as the wind of the flames died down in her ears, she opened her eyes to the most grandiose home she had ever stepped foot in.
Blaise let her step out, and a small elf appeared, carrying a tray of champagne. The elf's words were lost on Ginny as she took in the opulence around her. Everything sparkled and shined, with massive vaulted ceilings, plush fabrics and cushions, and artwork everywhere.
"You alright?" he whispered into her ear as she took his arm.
Witches and wizards turned their heads as they entered the room, and Ginny felt judging eyes and heard small whispers as she walked arm-in-arm with Blaise Zabini. Heat flushed up her neck as she felt the scrutiny, her eyes finally meeting a group of red-headed people in the corner. It was her mum, her dad, and Ron all congregated together.
"I'm alright... will you be?" she smiled up at him, and he nodded back, looking confident. He looked so good tonight; there was no way his parents wouldn’t love him, right?
"Lead the way," he grinned.
"Oh, Ginny darling, you look absolutely beautiful," her Mum immediately grabbed her and pulled her into a tight hug. "Have you seen Harry, dear? Ron said you came together," her Mum continued talking, ignoring Blaise's presence.
"Molly..." her dad interjected. "And who is this young man?" he asked, eyeing Blaise.
"Dad, Mum, this is Blaise Zabini, my boyfriend," Ginny introduced, and she watched her Mum's face fall with a hint of heartbreak as Blaise reached out to shake both their hands. Her father shook Blaise's hand quickly, greeting him kindly, while her Mum's handshake seemed forced.
"Zabini is a brilliant Quidditch player... and a stand-up student," Ron chimed in, just as Ginny had coached him to do. She was thankful for his support, however lacklustre.
"Thanks?" Blaise said slowly, giving Ron a weird look as Ron raised his glass.
"It’s such a pleasure to meet you both this evening. Ginevra talks a lot about how much you all mean to her, and I want you to know that I’m very honored to be dating your daughter," Blaise said smoothly, eloquently, like the perfect Pureblood heir he was raised to be. Ginny watched as her mother's eyes softened slightly.
"Oh, well, that is very kind of you to say... honored, Arthur?" her mum said, glancing over at her dad. Ginny felt like she hadn't taken a breath in years.
"Yes, indeed. Well, Mr. Zabini, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance as well. Other than Quidditch or schoolwork, do you have any other hobbies? It's rumored that you and my daughter have become quite the contenders in the Scavenger Hunt," her dad asked.
"Ah, yes, a lot of that is due to your daughter's influence, I'm sure she'd be able to achieve those times all on her own," Blaise replied with a smile.
"That's not true, the first hunt was all you," Ginny smirked, and Blaise gave her a sly grin. Ginny probably shouldn’t mention Blaise’s love of tits winning them the top spot in front of her parents.
"But, ah, yes, I'm actually hoping to get an internship at St. Mungo's as a Healer. A lot of my time has been dedicated to that currently, so outside of Quidditch and the Unity Project, that is my main focus," Blaise continued, and Ginny's heart swooned.
"A healer?" Ron questioned rudely, and Ginny shot him a look. "A noble career choice," he quickly added.
Just as Ginny was about to retort, she noticed the glazed look on Ron’s face, his jaw slack, as his eyes stared in the direction of Pansy Parkinson stepping out of the Floo. Pansy wore a strapless flowing blood-red gown, her short black hair pinned straight with cherry-red lips. Ginny watched as Pansy straightened her dress and casually sipped champagne as she moved through the room. Ron was still transfixed, and Ginny couldn't help but roll her eyes at how obvious her brother was.
"Ron? Ronald?" their mother’s voice snapped them both back to reality. "Wha... what?" Ron said quickly, practically wiping the drool off his face.
"Are you ready for your speech? We are so proud, dear," Molly asked.
"Ah, right, the speech. Ready as ever," Ron said quickly, and Ginny knew it was time for a quick exit.
"Mum, Blaise, and I need to make the rounds, talk about the project and all... I'll see you both in a little bit?" she smiled.
"Sure, but if you have time later, I’d like to chat. I feel like we have an awful lot to catch up on," her Mum finished as Blaise nodded his goodbye to both of them, and Ginny just smiled and wheeled him around.
"That wasn't so bad," Blaise said, taking another long drink.
Ginny knew her Mum was having a difficult time; she loved Harry like another son, and she was sure she was dreaming of the day he would officially become part of the family. Ginny had ruined that chance. It wasn't Blaise's fault that he wasn't Harry.
"That wasn't, but why does it feel like everyone is staring at us, do you also feel the energy off in this room?" Ginny said as they continued to attract looks, with reporters snapping their pictures randomly.
As they entered a second room, Ginny noticed a small stage with a microphone, and there was a lavish bar up ahead where Malfoy and Nott were casually slung over.
"Ah, Zabini, you look sharp as ever," Nott smiled as they approached, shaking hands. Ginny watched as Blaise noticeably relaxed.
"Weaslette, who would have known you clean up so well," Nott winked back.
“I could say the same about you,” she snapped back.
"When did you two get here?" Malfoy asked, glancing around them, clearly not asking the question he really wanted to.
"About ten minutes ago. Granger is here if that's what you're asking, but we lost her and Potter at the Floo," Blaise laughed, and they saw Draco's face turn towards them.
"Right... I’ll see you both later then," he downed his champagne and pushed past them.
"He's getting a bit desperate, isn't he?" Theo mocked.
"You wait until he sees her," Ginny smirked.
"Alright, I’m going to see how much trouble I can stir up. You said Potter is here? I’ll go check that he has me being thanked in his speech," Theo announced, downing a quick shot and patting Blaise on the shoulder.
Finally, they were alone as Blaise ordered them drinks and Ginny heard a sharp voice from beside her.
"So it’s true... darling Ginevra Weasley left The Chosen One Harry Potter for the Zabini Heir. I’ve only heard the rumors but never could confirm. How about a photo for the Prophet? Any words for our readers?" Rita Skeeter and her quick-quote quill were standing beside them like a parasite clinging to its owner's back. Ginny immediately felt herself flare in anger, about to snap.
"Rita, it’s lovely to see you. My mother does give her best. I appreciate the interest in our relationship, but I can assure you that our relationship has nothing to do with Ginevra and Potter," Blaise answered coolly, and Ginny bit her tongue as the Quill wrote on.
"So, it’s not true that this relationship developed after the two of you were partnered together in this Unity Project? The project that began and the partnership that began while Ms. Weasley was still involved with Harry Potter?" Rita oozed, in a tone that made Ginny wish she still had that jar of Hermione's.
"Is there really nothing else newsworthy, Skeeter, other than our relationships?" Ginny spat back.
"You don’t understand. All the rage, all the talk is about this Unity Project... and what it’s doing to our beloved Hogwarts students. Information has been difficult to get from the school, and the Ministry has been very tight-lipped. I’m just doing the research our readers are desperate for," she smiled back.
"Well, you’re not getting anything from us, except for the fact that we both fully support the project's ideals and aims," Blaise snapped, grabbing Ginny's arm and moving her elsewhere.
"You know she’s going to somehow twist it all?" Ginny said nervously.
She was getting the sensation that many attendees were there more out of curiosity than support. The atmosphere was tense, and strained, with a clear divide among old Pureblood families, Ministry officials, and the families of those who had lost the most during the war.
"I guess we’ll have to wait and see tomorrow’s Prophet," Blaise looked around darkly, and Ginny gulped her drink quickly.
It was five seconds after Harry stepped out of the Floo, and he was swarmed by photographers snapping photos. He barely made it out of the way before the flames erupted again, and Hermione and Ron came out behind him. They saw the photographers and both bolted, leaving Harry by himself.
Twats.
He would make sure they knew that.
Harry felt out of place. It wasn’t his first time being bombarded; he was used to it, as much as one could be. But that didn’t mean he liked it. It was awkward enough with Zabini, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny getting here. He had been thankful to leave. Now that he was here, he almost missed the tense atmosphere of Ron’s room.
Ron had been right. Hermione was dressed... well, he didn’t really want to comment on it, but internally, she looked like a Slytherin.
Ron was right about a lot of things unfortunately when it came to Hermione, and Harry knew exactly why she was wearing it.
But if the statement she was trying to make was anything other than "I’m dating Draco Malfoy," then the outfit didn’t make sense.
"Potter, great to see you," Kingsley greeted him with his booming voice, shaking his hand rigidly, stopping mid-shake for a photo. Harry just nodded.
"I need to speak with you for a quick moment before you go in if that's alright?" Kingsley said in a whisper.
"Yeah, alright," Harry nodded, and Kingsley led him over to a side alcove, out of the way of the main entrance to the ballroom at Malfoy Manor.
Harry hadn’t even really had time to observe the fact that this was the first time he had been in this place since they had been dragged there by Snatchers. It should have stirred uncomfortable feelings inside him, but it didn’t. Again, he felt nothing.
"Listen, Harry. I really appreciate your cooperation in all of this. I know these Galas can be haughty. But something you don’t know is we have been getting a lot of negative feedback on this project. A lot of the families that lost the most feel as if it’s rubbing salt in the wound. Not only have certain Death Eaters been let off, but we’ve now put them back into the school and partnered them with their cherished heroes. On top of it, now I’m not saying this is your fault, but now that Ginny is with the Zabini boy; Ron and Hermione... there has been concern that it’s all due to this project. Now I can’t let it slip what I asked of Nott and Malfoy after the battle, in order to reassure those families. This project needs to work, and I need you to help me champion it," Kingsley continued, and Harry’s mind raced.
This was the second time something had been brought up about Malfoy and Nott after the war? Could he ask Theo?
What the fuck did the Ministry ask them to do? And of course, it was all coming back to him to help save this damned project from crumbling. He didn’t understand why it was a surprise, that the community had been outraged. It was a feeling they had all felt at the beginning of it as well.
After watching Ron and Pansy, Hermione and Draco, and even himself and Theo, he did believe in what Kingsley was doing.
Whether or not he agreed with the way the Ministry went about it, it did force them to view those they always hated, always viewed in contempt, with empathy and caring, as people worth a second chance.
"Kingsley, what do you mean you don’t want “it” to get out about Nott and Malfoy? What did you have them do?" Harry asked quickly.
"I can’t talk about that here, but it was a large part of their release, especially Nott’s. Yours and Granger's testimony was enough for Malfoy, but when we approached Theodore, Draco agreed to assist," Kingsley said, his eyes wild, looking around the room. "Harry, do you have your speech prepared?" he added, and Harry looked at him as if he had three heads.
“Yeah,”
"Good, don’t be surprised if you don’t get overwhelming encouragement or claps, but stay focused,” Kingsley finished, and Harry felt like he had been hit by a fucking bus.
Why was Kingsley telling him all of this now? Maybe he would have put more effort into his speech if he knew how much doubt there would be in the room.
"I’ll stay focused, but Kingsley, I want you to tell me before we leave tonight, somewhere in private, about Nott and Malfoy. If I’m agreeing to all of this, I want to know the entire truth, alright?"
"Very well, Potter," Kingsley finished, patting Harry fatherly on the shoulder as he moved toward Molly and Arthur Weasley who were now eyeing them both as they huddled in the corner.
Harry was about to walk out of the alcove, toward the Weasleys past a small door, when a strong grip grabbed his robes and hoisted him into the room.
Harry's eyes strained against the light as he found himself in a massive library. He had been dragged through what looked like a servant's door. The room was dimly lit by wall sconces, but Harry knew it couldn’t have been all of it. He was pressed against a stack of books, and Theodore Nott stood in front of him, his eyes holding the reflection of the flames on the walls.
Theo was wearing blue-green robes that matched Harry’s, the only slight difference between the two was their white-cuffed collared shirts underneath. Theo looked... well, he looked like all those handsome movie stars Harry had seen in American films.
"Potter, are you already hiding from high society?" Theo asked, his hands still on the chest of Harry's robes, his body pressed against his.
“I wasn’t hiding; I was talking to Kingsley. It looks like you’re the one hiding,” Harry pushed back against his chest.
“I just wanted a moment alone with the star of tonight’s evening,” Theo smirked, letting go of him slightly, and Harry desperately wanted his touch again.
“I don’t think I’ll be the star for much longer. Apparently, the whole project isn’t as popular as we’ve been led to believe,” Harry finished.
“I could have told you that. Other than a few Pureblood families—the Greengrasses, Parkinsons, and the Flints—nobody here has so much as glanced at me. Except for the Abbotts and what’s left of the Bones family, who have shot me nothing but daggers. I’m half expecting one to curse me when I walk by. Hogwarts might be warming to the idea of having us back in the school, but Potter, I can assure you nobody else likes the idea of us being this close to you, or Weasley and Granger for that matter,” Theo explained.
“I like you being close to me,” Harry blurted out.
He was always kind of an ass when it came to this stuff, and Theo smirked at him, pushing his messy hair out of his face, his thumb lightly brushing his scar.
“And what if people find out you like kissing me? That you like the taste of my mouth? What then?” Theo asked quietly, and Harry froze.
He didn’t know.
He had never been in a position where anyone questioned him on who he liked to snog. It had been difficult when he dated Cho, considering he was the last to see her ex-boyfriend alive, clutching his body until he had been ripped off him by Dumbledore. That had been confusing enough and had ended horribly, but he never thought he’d have to explain why he liked kissing a boy, on top of it, that boy being ex-Death Eater Theodore Nott.
“I haven’t let myself think about it,” Harry said.
“You and I both know this could be dangerous… you’re the champion they rallied around, and I’m everything they fought against,” Theo added, running his hands down Harry's chest again, lazily dragging his fingers over his stomach, moving toward the spot he had put pressure on the other night.
Harry groaned again; his head tilted back as Theo’s hands rubbed against Harry’s erection.
He didn't even realize when all the blood in his body rushed to his groin. Theo’s lips hit the exposed stubble on his neck, his tongue slick and his lips pressing hard on the skin.
“Fuck, Theo,” Harry felt the sound escape his throat before he could even think.
“I love getting that reaction from you. Fucking hell, it’s hot,” Theo whispered in his ear, and Harry felt Theo unbuckle his belt.
A fleeting thought shot through his mind, to tell him to stop, but everything Theo was doing felt so good. He hadn't felt this good in a long time.
He liked it, he wanted it.
Theo’s hands pulled Harry’s pants down, and Harry closed his eyes tightly in pleasure, moving his hips forward, aching for it. He felt the softness of Theo’s hand on the hardness of his cock.
Bloody hell, he was seeing stars as he opened his eyes to see Theo looking down at his shaft, moving his hands up and down, rubbing his thumb lightly over the tip.
Theo’s lips were parted slightly, and he bit down on his bottom lip as Harry watched him work his hands on him.
“Gods,” Harry grunted as Theo moved his hand all the way back on his throbbing cock and Theo’s face turned up and pressed his mouth to his.
He tasted delicious, like whiskey—not fire whiskey, but Muggle whiskey. It was a visceral sensation. Harry felt his body jerk forward, and Theo laughed into his lips.
“Slow down, Potter, enjoy it,” Theo said as his tongue slipped back into Harry’s mouth, and Harry matched the rhythm, feeling the pressure building up in his cock from the glorious feeling of Theo’s palms.
He broke away, and Harry gasped at the sudden break in contact. Theo dropped to his knees, looking up at Harry with fire still in his eyes, and Harry felt himself gulp, craving his lips.
He had never experienced this before. He had never watched Ginny when she did this to him, when she took him in her mouth, he would usually just close his eyes and lay back.
But at this moment, Harry couldn’t rip his view from Theo.
Theo’s tongue hit the tip, and it was like an explosion of nerves. He had to grip the bookstacks behind him to steady himself. He had enveloped him completely, running his tongue up and down, and Harry felt his legs shake.
Holy fuck, he wasn’t going to be able to control this much longer.
Everyone had been right—Theo was dangerous, but not in the way they had meant. He was dangerous to Harry because he sparked a wildfire of exhilaration in his brain.
It was like Harry’s mind burst open to a different universal plane as Theo continued to lick, his saliva running up and down, creating glorious trails of gloss every time Theo moved down his cock.
Theodore Nott was blowing him in fucking Malfoy Manor’s library, while hundreds of people were waiting outside for his speech, and it was taking every inch of himself not to cum.
“Theo… I’m… I’m not going to, ah…last” Harry stuttered, unable to get the words out as he felt himself on the brink of release.
He wanted to give Theo a warning, a heads up. Theo grasped onto his forearm and gave it a squeeze as he continued to take him deeper into his throat.
Fuck, what did that mean? Was that the okay? Harry was lost.
The farther Theo took him, the more thumping he could feel in his groin. He had lost all sense of time, space, and even where he was. As he lost control, he felt himself release as Theo’s mouth tightened around him.
Harry’s orgasm melted over his entire body, his knees finally buckling, and Theo’s strong arm holding him up. Harry’s heavy grunting filled the air, as the warm wetness of Theo’s mouth finally left him.
“Merlin, you’re sexy when you cum, Potter,” Theo said as he moved up to face him, wiping the saliva from the corner of his lip. Harry felt the rush of blood thundering back into his veins.
“Ahh…that was… brilliant,” Harry managed to say in a breathy strained voice, feeling like a complete wanker for the compliment.
Idiot, he was an idiot.
Theo laughed and glanced down at Harry’s watch, clutching his wrist as it showed the time was closing in on five to eight.
Fuck.
Did he look like he just got sucked off? His hair was no doubt a mess, he was probably slightly sweaty.
Fuck.
He needed to get back to the party.
“Don’t you have a speech to make?” Theo gleamed then disappeared out the door he had just pulled Harry through.
Notes:
Any guesses on who's POVs are next?
Chapter 40: The Gala Part. II
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Stepping out of the Floo into the Manor, Hermione was blinded by all the flashing lights assaulting Harry. She exchanged a look with Ron, knowing by the expression on his face that he understood, they both bailed.
Hermione darted around, thanking a small house-elf as she grabbed a glass of champagne and drank while moving close to the edge of the ballroom. She was getting stares, a lot of them, and she felt it was her outfit. She knew it was daring, maybe even more revealing than she had ever worn. She smiled, and nodded, adding to the faux confidence that was wavering as she tried to melt into the walls.
There was a band playing, and a few people were swaying to the music as the hall began to get crowded. She felt her eyes roaming around, trying to spot that white-blond hair, and feeling rather desperate.
“Granger?” The voice was thick, one she hadn’t heard in a while, and she spun on her heels.
“How are you? It’s been months?” It was Oliver Wood, looking dashing as he always did in black tailored robes and a big smile.
Oliver had been the first boy she ever had a crush on as if he had ever even noticed her then.
“Oliver! It’s lovely to see you. How have you been?” she said politely.
“Ah, yeah, I’ve been great. Well, as great as I can be after everything, of course. And you’re alright? I’ve heard about this project, obviously, and, well… your partner… I hope he’s not giving you too much trouble,” Oliver smiled.
Hermione couldn't help but blush at the thought of Draco causing trouble, finding herself oddly amused by the idea.
"The project, yes. It seems like it's very top of mind for everyone, which I guess is why we are all here tonight. And actually, Dra- Malfoy and I are currently in the lead, so I can't complain all that much," she added graciously.
"That doesn't surprise me that Hermione Granger is top of something," Oliver remarked with a smirk, taking a sip of his drink.
Was he flirting? Hermione shifted uncomfortably at his comment.
"I had also heard from George that you and his brother are no longer together. I'm sorry to hear," Oliver added, though there was no hint of sorrow in his tone.
"Unfortunately, Ronald and I are better off as friends. I think we both agreed to that," Hermione replied, trying to be as politically correct as possible.
"Well, you look absolutely stunning, the dress is very different than I would have expected" Oliver smiled again, and Hermione felt the need for a fast exit plan.
"Ahh, yes, well, for the Unity Project Gala, I figured I'd try to promote inter-house unity. Seems like everyone else is noticing that too," Hermione replied, blushing again as stares continued to come her way.
Never had she imagined that Oliver Wood would describe her as stunning. In her third year, the idea would occasionally dance through her mind, but only in the quiet moments before sleep.
While she should have felt validated by the compliment, she knew that she had dressed with Draco in mind, and the only ogling eyes she craved were his.
"I think they are all just as surprised as me to see what a woman you've grown into, Granger," Oliver said, moving slightly closer.
Hermione felt her breath catch in her throat, unable to determine how she was going to leave this conversation without causing any embarrassment.
She sensed his shadow before she even saw him, her body reacting to his presence. Leather and tobacco filled her nostrils as she breathed deeper, and she felt goosebumps erupt across her skin.
"Malfoy, funny enough we were just speaking of you. Fantastic party you're hosting," Oliver said in a strained voice, and Hermione didn't allow herself to fully look at Draco, only letting her eyes glance to the side.
His jaw was tense, a dangerous edge to his facial structure that always appeared when he got possessive. Hermione felt a shock ripple through her body as he lightly grazed his fingers up the exposed skin of her back while reaching for his drink.
"Yet it seems like the only part you're partaking in is chatting with my project partner, Wood....You know, I saw that there are some first-string Puddlemere players here. Don't fancy a chat with them? Or do they not speak to reserves?" Draco sneered back, and Hermione heard herself groan.
"I'm only a reserve due to my injury," Wood interjected fiercely. "And I was just about to ask Granger for a dance actually," he smiled back at Hermione, who felt panic begin to rise within her.
"I doubt your healer would allow such exertion with an injury like yours. Plus, it's customary for the first dance of the night to be with her project partner," Malfoy snapped back.
"You don't think she's already had to endure enough of you this year, Malfoy?" Oliver retorted.
"I don’t think Granger will ever get enough of me, Wood” Draco sneered back. “Excuse us," He smirked and winked at Oliver, pushing past him and leading Hermione to the dancefloor, and she gave Oliver an awkward goodbye smile.
Draco placed his hand on the small of her back, causing the tension to rise in her body at the feel of his skin on hers.
Finally, she locked eyes with him, and he looked incredibly bloody hot in his perfectly tailored charcoal grey robes, his hair falling over his face in a way that made him look like a fallen god.
Fuck, she hated how much control he had over her.
"Are you trying to kill me?" he whispered as he continued to lead her onto the dance floor, hushed voices erupting around them and judging eyes following their every move. But Hermione barely noticed anything except for the touch and feel of Draco on the bare skin of her back.
"What?" she asked, puzzled.
"This dress, the gems I gave you... gods, woman, I want to take you right here," Draco whispered into her ear, his hand dropping dangerously low.
"Draco," she warned.
"Say it again, say my name again," he pressed into her ear.
"Draco, where are your manners?" she teased as they stepped perfectly into rhythm with each other, the band playing softly in the background.
"Completely gone the moment I saw this..." Draco moved his hand up her back again, feeling the silver-wrought serpents.
"If I were a madman, I'd drop to one knee and propose on the spot. But you're lucky I'm keeping my head about me," he added haughtily.
Hermione felt herself flush at the thought. It was just a saying; he didn't mean it. He couldn't mean that.
"That's what you consider keeping your head about you? You are a madman then," she laughed.
"You drive me mad….I almost bloody strangled Wood right there, the way he was looking at what is mine," Draco breathed heavily.
“You were awfully rude,” Hermione pushed.
"I wasn't rude enough..." Draco bit back, his teeth almost nipping her earlobe, as they were chest-to-chest dancing. In her peripheral vision, she could see flashes of photographers' lights.
"You know.…" Hermione began but was immediately halted by the sound of the most comforting voice she could imagine.
"Hermione! Hermione, dear," it was Molly Weasley rushing over towards her, Arthur in tow, and Hermione felt Draco's entire body tense, the mask slipping back on as he let go. Her hands lingered in his for a moment too long before he broke away.
"Mrs. Weasley, Mr. Weasley, it's so good to see you!" she hugged them both one by one, noting the intense side-eye Arthur was giving Draco as he stood by her side.
"Thanks for the dance, Granger," he cleared his throat awkwardly, nodding to Molly and Arthur before disappearing, and Hermione felt her heart rip.
"That's… um... a very interesting dress..." Molly looked her up and down, and Hermione felt herself blush.
She hadn’t even thought of the Weasleys. They were like parents to her. It would be as if wearing this in front of her own parents, a thought that made her sick and sad all at once.
"Oh, yes, I've been told….a few times.”
"You haven't seen Harry now, have you? I've been looking all over for him," Molly continued, and Hermione realized she hadn't seen him since they first entered. As if she had eyes for anyone but Draco anyway.
"I haven't..." she scanned the room. It must be almost time for their speeches, and she didn’t see him anywhere.
"Hermione, did you happen to give that letter I sent you any thought?" Arthur interrupted, and Hermione's mind shifted back to the letter he had sent her, personally inviting her to intern at the Ministry in the Misuse of Muggle Artefact Office, a desire she did not have.
"It would be so incredibly insightful to have a Muggle-born in our office," he added.
"I'm still weighing a lot of options. I'm not sure yet if the Ministry is going to be the right fit for me immediately after Hogwarts," she said, just as a screech from a microphone cleared the chatter out of the room and Kingsley's voice boomed over the ballroom.
"Ladies and gentlemen, good evening. Thank you all for joining us tonight. We're about to kick off with some speeches that shed light on the purpose of our gathering. The Unity Project has sparked curiosity and questions among many of you, and it's only fitting that you hear directly from those deeply involved. Please join me in welcoming Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, and Hermione Granger to the stage."
Just as Kingsley finished speaking, Hermione felt a rush of panic. The lack of applause, except from Ministry officials, pushed her reluctantly towards the stage.
The atmosphere seemed charged; a tension she hadn't noticed before suddenly palpable.
Walking onto the stage, Ron seemed preoccupied, his eyes fixed on something deep in the crowd that Hermione couldn’t see, he kept moving his head curiously from side to side and Harry's disheveled appearance appeared seemingly out of nowhere.
"Where have you been?" she whispered to Harry, adjusting his outfit with a flick of her wand, his white button-up was untucked from his trousers.
"Never mind that now," he stuttered "Hermione, whatever you say up there, just be careful not to seem..." Harry began, but Kingsley's voice interrupted, calling Harry to the forefront to speak.
Harry didn't have a chance to finish his sentence. What was he trying to warn her about? Not to seem too flustered? Because she definitely was.
“Good evening, thank you Minister Shacklebolt for honoring me tonight and letting me speak about this project in front of so many of you. Before this evening, I hadn’t been aware that so many of you weren’t aware of the intricate details of the Unity Project and the Scavenger Hunt. Sometimes our world in Hogwarts can seem so complete that we don’t always tend to look outside it,” Harry paused, and it garnered a few laughs from the crowd.
Harry continued, making a light joke here and there but seemingly beating around a lot of bushes about what the project truly meant. He continued to voice his support, but Hermione felt it lacked true feeling.
Maybe he didn’t have much time to prepare, or maybe this is how Harry truly felt; it was buzzing as Harry finished and began to step back toward Ron and herself. Kingsley stepped back to the microphone, eyeing Harry curiously.
“Thank you, Mr. Potter. Now we’ll hear from Ronald Weasley,” Kingsley pressed, and Ron looked startled like he had been called upon in class after not paying attention.
“Alright.......thank you everyone. I just want to start with the fact that I’m bloody awful at this stuff, and usually I’d have asked Hermione to write this for me, but here we go,” Ron said, garnering a laugh, and Hermione rolled her eyes; it was the truth.
“There were a lot of things I was ignorant to at the beginning of this year. Although if you had asked me then, I probably wouldn’t have admitted to any of them. I was outspokenly against this project, wanting to forget and move on with my life like many of us, but I don’t feel that way anymore. And I want to thank Minister Kingsley and the Unity Project for that. Without this Scavenger Hunt, I don’t think I would have gotten to experience or get to know the best thing in my life. So, uh, yeah. That’s it,” Ron nodded, and Hermione felt oddly proud of him.
She clapped as he looked back and grinned. A few claps rang from the crowd, and she could hear the whooping in the distance, no doubt George or Ginny. Sometimes their wolf howls sounded the same.
“Ah, thank you, Mr. Weasley,” Shacklebolt shook his head, no doubt regretting his decision to ask all three of them to speak.
“I’m going to finally ask Hermione Granger to come speak. Hermione and her partner, who also happens to be one of our hosts tonight, Mr. Malfoy…” Kingsley began then paused surveying the room.
“Where is Mr. Malfoy? Could we ask Draco Malfoy on stage?” Kingsley pushed, and Hermione felt her heart stop.
There was murmuring in the crowd, and finally, very reluctantly, she watched as Draco began to move through the guests like a snake in the grass, his face stoic. A few Pureblood families and Ministry officials clapped, another side of the room looking outraged.
Draco walked up beside her and held her eyes. She saw them darken, almost like he was trying to Occlude. She didn’t even think about what she was about to do; she just did it. Hermione entwined her hand into his, squeezing hard as he stood beside her, and she gave him a reassuring smile as Kingsley walked to the microphone again, the clapping dying down, flashes ensuing, and whispers erupting.
Hermione could feel Ron and Harry's eyes on her, and Draco's… they were smoldering.
“At the beginning of this year, Muggle-born Hermione Granger was partnered with Draco Malfoy,” Kingsley began, and of course, the Muggle-born needed to be in front of it. “The pairing seemed to shock many officials when deciding what these two may have in common. If you don’t already know, there was a connection between each assigned partner that they needed to figure out before they could begin. Since that time, Ms. Granger and Mr. Malfoy have secured the fastest time in almost all their hunts, being in the top spot for two hunts now—an impressive feat given the circumstances. I’m honored to ask Hermione to come up to the microphone and tell us about her experience thus far,” Kingsley said, and Hermione slowly let go of Draco’s hand, moving closer to the microphone. She felt herself grow colder, her heartbeat ringing in her ears.
"Ah, hi, thank you, Minister Shacklebolt, for that introduction. As I'm looking around this room, I see a lot of faces in this crowd I don't believe would have been in the same room with each other a year ago. A sentiment I shared when I arrived back at Hogwarts this year; the castle felt different, tainted, much like Ron, I wanted to focus on finishing the year and leaving the pain behind. But the Ministry had other plans for us," Hermione paused, noticing a few smirks and nods in the audience.
"When I was partnered with Draco, I didn't understand why. As many of you know, it's not like we've all been best childhood friends," that gained a few more sniggers.
"I couldn't have imagined what we would have had in common. But now, standing here, three hunts in, I understand. I wouldn’t have been able to get this far, accomplish any of it, without him. I'm not someone who enjoys giving credit away easily when I don't believe it's due, but I wholeheartedly believe that it's due. I've had to do a lot of things this year I don't like doing: swallowing some of my pride, and biting my tongue, in order to perpetuate this project, to get others to believe in its value. I dutifully played my part until I realized I wasn’t playing the part anymore; I became it, became a woman who believes in forgiveness, in second chances, in redemption." Hermione said turning slightly to see Draco standing behind her, his eyes dark, a small smile on his lips, but it was hesitant.
“I believe in redemption because I’ve seen it firsthand. We may not all have been friends before, but we’ve become allies in this project, and in that, we’ve found common ground. We’ve learned to work together, to trust each other, and to see beyond our pasts.”
Hermione paused, feeling the weight of her words in the room. She saw some nodding in agreement, others still skeptical, but she pressed on. She knew what she was doing, what she was saying was right.
“Finally, I’d like to add that The Unity Project isn’t just about completing challenges or winning a competition. It’s about building a better future for all of us.”
Hermione concluded her speech, the room exploded into chaos. Reporters surged forward, a cacophony of claps, cheers, and outraged murmurs filling the air. Amidst the frenzy, Hermione struggled to focus, her vision blurred by the relentless flashes of camera bulbs.
Rita Skeeter's venomous voice rang through the tumult, her question dripping with malice as Draco firmly grasped Hermione's arm, guiding her away from the stage.
"Ms. Granger, how does it feel to be bought off by the Malfoys?"
Amid the chaos Hermione had stirred up for herself, Ron couldn't help but feel a sense of validation. Deep down, he knew he had been right all along, even if Hermione wouldn't admit that she had feelings for Malfoy, she had just practically flaunted it to the whole wizarding world.
But Ron barely had time to process it all. His mind was consumed with one thought, one feeling all night: Pansy.
When she finally appeared, she looked so unhappy, as if she didn't want to be there.
He had meant every word of his speech, though he didn't lay it out as plainly as Hermione just did. Despite the commotion at the front of the room, where everyone clamored for Hermione's attention, the rest of the space seemed to settle into a quiet calm. Many had already left, leaving behind a subdued atmosphere, accompanied by the soft melodies of the music. Pushing through the thinning crowd, all Ron could think about was catching another glimpse of her red dress.
Where was she? She couldn’t have left. Ron had caught sight of her just as he took the stage, but then she vanished. He also spotted someone who he was pretty sure was her mother.
Ron stood toward the back of the room, with a curtain behind him that likely concealed some alcove or the gruesome pictures the Malfoys were trying to hide—either way, it didn’t matter to him at the moment, he had finally got himself a good vantage point to scan the room.
“I’ve heard you’ve been thinking about the Ministry. You know I have a lot of connections,” Ron heard a smug voice from behind the curtain, paying little attention to it at first.
“Ugh, sod off, McLaggen,” came Pansy’s voice.
Ron paused.
Was it Pansy's voice? He fought the urge to rip open the curtain. No, he needed to stay calm.
Pansy’s mother was here, and Hermione had just caused a scene. He’d wait for Pansy to come out.
“Don’t be like that, Parkinson. I know all about how you love getting into the good graces of wizarding society. Suck my cock and I’ll put in a good word. Let me shag you, and I’ll write you a recommendation letter. How about that for a trade?” Cormac's voice made Ron see red.
He lost control of himself.
“Get off me, McLaggen!”
Ron tore open the curtain to see Pansy looking terrified and relieved all at once.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing, McLaggen?!” Ron rounded on him, and Cormac stepped back.
“What do you care, Weasley? She’s a fucking slut. She was begging me for it.”
Ron's fist connected with Cormac’s face with a force he didn’t know he possessed. He was sure he felt Cormac’s jaw break, bones crack.
He hadn’t even punched Malfoy that hard.
All he saw was red spurt out of his mouth and Ron shook with fury, feeling his magic crackling—it was a sensation he had never experienced before.
Cormac groaned from the floor, clutching his jaw. Pansy stood frozen, her mouth hanging open in shock.
"Never fucking lay a hand on her again, do you fucking hear me?" Ron's voice boomed, drawing the attention of those nearby.
"Ron..." she urged, glancing around anxiously at the gathering crowd.
“Weasley? What are you doing? I've barely finished helping Malfoy extract Granger from the den of vipers up there, and now you’re starting a brawl? Do you Gryffindors seriously not know how to behave at a party?” Nott appeared, and Ron hadn’t even seen where he came from.
Ron looked around, he noticed whispers and haughty looks from witches and wizards, including Pansy’s mother, who seemed on the verge of approaching.
“McLaggen was trying to force himself on me, but I need to get out of here before she comes over,” Pansy said, pushing past them, noticing her mother's approach.
"Parkinson, wait!" Ron called out, but she was already disappearing into the crowd, her mother's disapproving stare lingering in the air.
Ron's blood boiled as he watched Cormac McLaggen writhe in pain on the floor, Theo moved down on the floor and pressed his wand against his throat.
"You're lucky it was the Weasel who stumbled upon you. I wouldn't have extended the same courtesy. Take your shattered jaw and get the fuck out of here. And if I see you again, you'll be begging for mercy from someone who won't even recognize your sorry excuse for a face." Theo's voice had darkened unlike Ron had ever seen; it was a completely different Nott.
“I need to go find Parkinson,” Ron said quickly, and Theo looked back up at him.
“I'll take care of this,” Theo winked, and Ron nodded, turning toward the exit Pansy had disappeared through.
His eyes briefly met her mother's, and he quickly looked away, blood splattered on the white of his button-up. He pushed through the crowd, which now made way for him, casting him grimaces.
Fucking Cormac McLaggen.
Ron hated him. He fucking hated them all, anyone who touched her, who thought they had the right to her. He hated the look on her face when she ran. He shouldn’t have lost his temper, shouldn’t have lost his cool, but he couldn’t stand it, couldn’t bloody stand it.
He was desperate for her, and would do anything to protect her—his fucking hero complex.
If she were here, he was sure she’d make a joke of it. Would she? He didn’t even know anymore.
Lost in his thoughts, he pushed through a large oak double door and was hit with the chilly night air. Somehow, he had made it outside, onto the grounds, at the back of the Manor. Down a small hill, tall hedges loomed, resembling a maze. At the mouth of the opening, a fountain with water cascading over it caught his eye.
He had found her.
Pansy was barefoot, walking cautiously on the edge of the cement, gripping a bottle of champagne. Ron sighed in relief. Lights were shining down from the Manor, and the distant sound of chatter and music faded as he walked down the hill toward her.
“Are you going to run from me all night?” Ron asked, exasperated.
Pansy stood on the ledge of the fountain, her small feet gripping the sides as she looked over at him, taking a swig from the champagne bottle.
“I wasn’t running from you, Weasley. I was running from my mother. All night, she’s been in my ear, introducing me to this man and that. When I saw the look on her face when you smashed McLaggen, I needed to run,” Pansy explained.
“Are you angry that I hit McLaggen? He was forcing himself on you.....has this happened before? Theo mentioned something about lewd comments,” Ron roared
“Theo talks too much,” Pansy snapped. “Believe it or not, Ron, I handled myself just fine without your help,” she finished.
“It didn’t look like you handled it just fine! And answer me, damn it, you’ve been avoiding this question for a week” Ron flared.
“What do you want to hear? That everyone thinks I’m a slut? I already told you people say it all the time, that blokes think I’m easy. Did you want me to tell you every time an asshole makes a lewd comment?” Pansy retorted.
“Yes, I do want you to tell me every time an asshole makes a lewd comment,” Ron fired back.
“Why, so you can go punching them in the face too?” she scoffed.
“I’ll punch every single one of them in the face. I don’t care. I don’t want anyone bothering you again,”
“You’ll end up with a broken hand,” she remarked, stopping to look at him, a smile playing on her face.
“I’ll heal it, then punch the next bloke, heal it, punch the next bloke, over and over again…” Ron joked.
“You’re an oaf, you know that?” she sneered “But I liked your speech,” she added, and he felt himself ease.
“You might have been the only one,” he said, moving forward.
“Are you going to come down now?” he asked, putting his hand out to help her off the ledge.
Just as she was about to grab it, it flashed before his eyes: her foot hit a moss-covered wet spot, her eyes widened, her dress flew up as her legs fell from underneath her, and she crashed into the water below, making a wild splash.
“Pansy!” he yelled, stripping off his outer jacket and diving in after her. The water hit his skin like ice as he searched for the soaking-wet fabric of her dress, feeling her small body underneath it.
How bloody deep was this fountain, as his feet struggled to find concrete.
He hoisted her up toward the surface, and they broke through, both gasping for air. His wet hair clung to his forehead as Pansy pushed the water from her face and eyes, rubbing her mascara all down her cheeks, giving her the appearance of a raccoon.
He laughed; she looked cute.
“Once again, Ronald Weasley, my bloody hero,” she laughed sarcastically, putting one hand on his cheek as they waded in the water.
"You look ridiculous, sort of like a clown," he chuckled, smudging some of the black makeup under her eyes.
"And you're hardly one to talk," she scoffed splashing him lightly as she swam toward the ledge.
He helped her over the edge of the fountain, the heavy material of her dress weighing more than her entire body. He wasn’t sure how she could stand as he lifted himself onto solid ground again.
“Parkinson, I meant what I said in my speech. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he said, staring back at her dripping wet in the moonlight.
Her face looked positively disheveled, yet it was one of the most beautifully raw moments he had ever seen her in.
She was perfect, in every way, in every form.
“You make me laugh, genuinely laugh. For the longest time, I didn’t think I would be able to anymore, not until you…” Pansy said, moving quickly toward him.
The slosh of her wet dress accompanied her lips meeting his, and he held onto her as if to never let go.
She was the only thing he needed all night, finally getting to be with her, finally getting to kiss her so openly.
Fucking hell, she was magic.
He was fairly certain she made his magic stronger, giving life to it as he felt the two of them connecting. Her lips tasted sweet, like cinnamon and Fire whiskey coursing into his bloodstream.
She broke away, and he let out a reluctant moan.
“I want to win that Chalice. If we do, I want to use it for something different.....I want to break free of the bonds my parents have put on me. I want to be with you without worrying,” Pansy said in a whisper, Ron still clutching her as her eyes darted back and forth.
“Do we need the Chalice? Is there no other way?” he grasped.
He didn’t want to think of it, didn’t want to put his entire chance on winning that bloody cup. But if it was the only way, then he’d beat Hermione, Harry, his sister— he’d be determined.
“They’ll disown me, disinherit me, and throw me out and I’d have nothing, and I don’t think we can survive on snogging alone,” she laughed.
“I wouldn’t let you have nothing, I’d get work at George’s shop, when I wasn’t in Auror training. I might not have as much to offer as you’re used to, or what some of these other Pureblood families could give you, but you’d never be unhappy. I can promise you that.” he choked, pressing his lips on her forehead that still held beads of water.
“I think I love you, Ron, though I've never loved anyone before, so I'm not entirely sure” she whispered into him, and his heart thumped.
“I love you Pans, it’s the one thing I do know for sure,”
Notes:
Last Gala POV next Draco's!
Chapter 41: The Gala Part. III
Chapter Text
Draco couldn’t understand how someone so fucking brilliant could be so damn ignorant, beautiful yet ignorant.
Hermione Granger couldn't read a room, that was obvious. Even if she could, Draco knew Hermione was too righteous to back down on what she believed in, she would have voiced her opinion regardless of who had asked her not to.
Draco knew this night wasn't going to be as easy as his mother had said it would be, he wasn’t blind to the looks he still got from Hogwarts students. He remembered barely being able to walk down Diagon Alley in the summer. There was no way that the general population was suddenly fine with the Unity Project just because they were hosting a gala.
The Ministry officials, as always, were clapping, putting on a show. The older pureblood families were hiding their grimaces, only to try and regain some grace. Then there were the families that lost significantly during the war. They looked like it physically pained them to be there.
Before Draco ripped Hermione off the stage, he saw some of the Bones, Diggory, and Fawley families leave almost immediately during the uproar from the reporters. He saw Pansy's mother sharing whispered conversations with Greengrass's mother and pointing to the gems.
That was what Hermione had clearly wanted, right? To out them? It had to have been, considering the way she showed up to the party so obviously his.
But the way she reacted in surprise as she was hounded by the press made him think differently.
Theo was at his side quickly and helped wrangle Hermione through the doors to the second floor.
"Why did you do that? Why did you drag me away? I wanted to fire back at Skeeter. Why would she insinuate I was bought? You didn’t even let me defend myself!" Hermione rounded on him, her updo coming undone, as she stood on the massive grand staircase, they had blocked off from the rest of the party leading to the upstairs rooms.
"Defend yourself, Granger? Are you mental? As if that would make a difference. Do you seriously not understand what was going on out there?" He rounded back on her, walking up the steps toward the 2nd-floor landing that had large glass panel doors to the terrace overlooking the grounds.
"I understand that Rita Skeeter will do or say anything to get a story,"
"Granger, you’re wearing my family gems. Half the guests knew that the second you walked in. You’re wearing a serpent dress, and you just told the entire room that I deserve a second chance. You basically just told the entire wizarding world that you are mine, that you belong to Draco Malfoy. Don’t get me wrong, I fucking loved it, but you don’t seem to realize what you have just done," Draco countered.
There was no way she could be this oblivious.
"Alright, I may not be exactly hiding it, but the Unity Project is supposed to bring us all together. Is that not what this whole party is for? Supporting the project, everything I said was true, and I stand by it," Hermione defended, stamping her heel.
"Everything you said may have been true, but that doesn’t mean half of them want to hear it. A lot of those families out there lost fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, and still blame people like me, Nott, and Zabini, and all the other Pureblood families who had either not taken a stance or had a part in it,”
"And they are the only ones who lost something? I lost my family too, Draco. That doesn’t mean I have to hate you all because of it," she screamed back.
"I know that! But do they? They see their heroes, the ones who bloody saved them from tyranny, suddenly supporting the same people who promoted it! You saw Potter, he understood, he supported the project, and he made sure not to openly support us...... Weasley’s jumble of a speech, I don’t think anyone even knew what that was about, and then yours… walking up there, my family jewelry on your neck, holding my hand, thanking me?” Draco pushed.
"Isn’t that what we both wanted? We finally wanted to stop pretending like there isn’t something between us. For everyone to know?" Hermione looked heartbroken, and Draco softened. "I thought you wanted it too," she pushed.
"Of course, it’s what I wanted; I told you… I fucking loved it! You should have seen some faces, it was brilliant. But you need to understand the weight of what you just did. We aren’t going to be able to casually walk away from this, from tonight," he added.
"I knew from the beginning that there would be people who weren’t going to take this well. I honestly didn’t think that my speech tonight would be the tipping point. I truly wanted to believe that the people who were here tonight were here for the right reasons, that they believed in the value of this project, and I wanted to be open about how it’s changed me..... I didn’t exactly think thanking you was going to start a goddamn riot,” She huffed, looking down at her feet.
"I guess that’s what Harry was trying to warn me about," she looked back up at him, her eyes swirling, her face flushed, but she still looked stunning in the warm light from the chandelier above them, her emeralds glittering, a slight sheen of sweat on her collarbone.
She was infuriatingly delicious, even in her anger.
"Potter warned you?" he questioned
"Not exactly. When we got on stage, he tried to tell me something, but then he was called up, and I never got the end of it. I’m assuming now he was going to tell me not to seem overly eager about the fact you were my partner," she laughed reluctantly, pushing her hair from her eyes.
"Did I just ruin the party?" she asked as he stared at her.
"It was quite shit before that, so I wouldn’t worry about it," he laughed.
“I need some air,” she huffed, rubbing her temples.
“Come on, we have a terrace just up here. We can hide out there for a little while until the vipers leave,” he smirked and pushed open one of the large double-paned doors.
The moon was high in the sky, and the wraparound terrace overlooked their hedge maze and fountain. He grabbed Hermione's hand, feeling the warmth of her skin as he walked her onto the marble flooring.
“I should go back down there… I shouldn’t be hiding up here,” Hermione said, looking up toward the night sky as the chilly January air hit their faces. She looked even more breathtaking in this light if that were imaginable.
“Why? Why do you feel like you have to go back down there? You don’t have to validate anyone else's feelings if that’s what you’re worried about,” he said, knowing exactly what was going on in that big brain of hers. She wanted to find Weasley, his parents, maybe even Potter.
“I like facing my problems head-on, and I’m so sick of hiding from them,” she turned to look at him, and he knew she meant it.
He had never known her to back down from anything in her life. An admirable trait, yet a foolish one.
“And dating me is your current problem?” he smirked.
“Dating you? Like you being my boy-“ She began and was immediately cut off by a scream from the darkness of the grounds below, causing both Hermione and him to turn and look down.
Draco felt like the night was about to get a hell of a lot worse.
Ronald fucking Weasley had just dove into his fountain after what Draco could only assume was Pansy Parkinson.
“Oh my god! Is that Ron?” Hermione yelled as Draco watched tight-lipped as Pansy and Ron erupted from the water, spasming and laughter echoing through the night as Ron helped Pansy back onto the ground.
“Looks like it. We should get back inside,” Draco went to grab Hermione’s hand, but she pulled away, almost transfixed on the situation below.
They couldn’t hear anything but the murmuring of soft voices as they watched Ron and Pansy both standing apart, clearly something going on between them.
Draco knew, and it seemed like Granger was about to find out too.
Fuck.
Pansy moved and wrapped her hands around Weasley, pulling him in, and they were kissing, their figures highlighted by the lights of the manor.
“What the fuck? Draco... are you seeing this? Ron.. Ron.. he’s kissing..” Hermione began stuttering, and Draco felt his body tense.
“Oh god,” Draco breathed as she turned to him, her eyes wild, and he searched them desperately for jealousy or sadness, but all he saw was shock.
His stomach dropped.
Was she jealous?
Did she realize now that Ron was snogging Parkinson, that their little game was over and she could go back to her real life, back to him? He felt physically ill at the thought.
“You knew! Malfoy! You knew!” Hermione rounded, her eyes switching from shock to rage, and Draco felt his defenses put back up.
She wasn’t serious, was she? She was angry at him?
“Oh, it’s back to Malfoy now, is it?” he spat back.
“How long? How long have you known?”
“Three months… the night after... well, the night after you and I,” he admitted coldly.
“The night after you and I? They’ve been snogging that long?”
“Definitely not just snogging,” Draco whispered under his breath.
“And you didn’t tell me?! Draco, what the fuck? Another goddamn lie!” she screamed, and he felt his blood boil.
Ron Weasley was the one snogging another girl, yet she was going to be angry at him? Was she using this as an excuse to run back to Weasley now that someone else might have wanted him?
Is this what Hermione wanted? Her Death Eater on the side, while her Golden Boy pined for her?
“I didn’t tell you because Parkinson knew about us, and if I told you about her and the bloody Weasel, she was going to tell him about you and me! What would you have had me do? We were so new, and I had just done everything I could to finally have you... I wasn’t going to let him ruin it,” Draco fired back.
“He’s been fucking Parkinson for three months and you knew and just didn’t tell me?!”
“For fuck's sakes, this is exactly why I didn’t tell you, so you can run back to him now? Is this what this whole thing is about? You’re going to use this anger at me for hiding this from you, just to end it so you can beg for him back?!”
“What?! No!” Hermione suddenly looked confused, staring up at Draco in disbelief.
“It’s because I’m going to bloody murder him.....I’m going to bloody murder Ronald Weasley. I’m angry with you for not telling me because I’ve held this guilt for so long that what we are doing is wrong; and that I’d hurt him and this whole time he’s been shagging Pansy, yet acting so self-righteous toward me?!” Hermione yelled, and it hit him.
She wasn’t trying to end things with him; she was angry that she had to hide their relationship for so long all because nobody had told her the truth.
Fuck, he felt like a wanker.
“So, you don’t want him back? You don’t feel jealous at all?” Draco asked.
“No, you moron! I’m livid!” Hermione shot back, and her ‘No’ was enough to not even press her on the fact she had just called him a moron. Her anger toward Weasley was slightly arousing.
“Right, well, he’s a shit fucking bloke, and you have no idea how weirdly erect I get at the thought of you wanting to murder him. Please let me watch that,” Draco pushed his luck slightly with the comment, but he went for it anyway.
“You should have told me, but I understand why you didn’t. I don’t know Parkinson well, but I know her enough that she would have been true to her word and told Ronald about us... gods… I’m still so bloody angry....He sulked! He sulked and made me feel badly for weeks!” Hermione was now pacing up and down the terrace, and a sick joy was filling Draco as he watched her anger now be redirected where it truly belonged.
“I really could listen to this all day, keep the bashing going. When you want me to chime in, just let me know because I have a lot of opinions on this subject,” Draco smirked, leaning against the railing.
“Not a day in his life has he ever had to fear the consequences of his actions, not the way I do!” Hermione shot back and Draco was confused again.
“What do you mean?”
“Draco, your vileness to Ron went beyond just schoolyard bullying. You went after his family, time and time again. The relationship between Arthur and your father, that had a factor in my decision to keep us a secret when we first started seeing each other. I had already lost so much; I was terrified about losing the only family I had left.... But has Ron ever had to fear that? No, not Ron, never Ron. He can do whatever he liked, make me feel terrible, shag Parkinson, a girl that he told everyone he bloody hated, and nothing will happen to him! Nobody will ever hate him, nobody will exile him from the family,” she growled.
Draco felt guilty. He knew he had been the jury, judge, and executioner at his own internal trials against the Weasleys.
He had been taught to hate them, to despise everything they had ever stood for. He never knew how much it would come to bite him in the ass in the future when he fell for Granger. How the people he had shown so little love for would hold so much contempt for him, and how much weight of their opinions they would carry in her mind.
She continued to pace, and he continued to watch her. He should have told her; he shouldn’t have cared about the outcome if it all unraveled before now.
“I should have told you,” Draco admitted.
“I should have known… the way they acted the other night at the Leaky....Christmas…. fuck... she was covered in hickeys the day when we went to try on gowns. Do you suppose Harry knows? He’s laid off me recently about telling Ron about you, I can only assume it’s because of that,” Hermione admitted.
“Yeah, Potter definitely knows... and I hate to break this one to you, but I’m going to take a wild guess and say so does Red,” Draco continued, and Hermione just stopped in her tracks, a blankness taking over her face and she started wildly laughing.
It was chaotic and uncontrolled, and Draco worried that tonight may have cracked her.
“Are you alright?”
“Honestly, yes. I feel… I feel fucking great. I feel liberated,” she smiled, looking up at him.
He wasn’t really sure if this was liberation or a small mental break, but he was going to go with it regardless because that was his girl.
“Do you want me to kill him for you? All you have to do is say the word. Nobody would find the body,” he breathed, grabbing hold of her finally and dragging her back into his arms where she belonged.
Her body was freezing cold; he didn’t even realize how long they had been outside.
“Why do I think you’re not joking,” she gushed as she pressed into him.
“Because I’m not,” he breathed into her ear, and her body was covered in goosebumps, but they weren’t from him, they were from the cold outside.
“Honestly, I feel great… I cared for so long about the feelings of others in regards to you and me, but why? Ginny doesn’t care, Harry doesn’t care, who gives a fuck if Ron does anymore. I finally understand what Gin meant; this is freeing,” she exclaimed, moving up onto the balcony of the terrace, looking over the grounds.
Pansy and Ron had gone, and it was just her. Just them.
“Draco… take me to your room,” Hermione moved away from her grip on the railing, the fire burning in her eyes as she pulled on his arms.
In no world did she ever have to ask him twice. He had been dying to get under her dress from the moment he saw her tonight. He almost came in his fucking trousers.
She knew exactly what she was doing when she came to the party dressed like that. She had his name written all over her, yet twats like Wood still couldn’t see that. But they would now.
He reached out, grabbing her waist, and in one effortless swing, he was carrying her in his arms. Her curls were almost completely undone, the strap of her dress falling over her shoulder, and his body warming hers.
“Draco!” she cried teasingly as he kicked open the glass doorway.
“Why not offend some of my ancestors tonight while we are at it,” he laughed as she was in his arms, walking down the long corridor that hung portraits of haughty Malfoy family relatives on his way to his bedroom.
He watched as they eyed him suspiciously, moving portrait to portrait, and Draco gave a few cheeky winks here and there.
“What about your mother?!” she asked, instantly killing his boner.
“Let’s not chat about my mother right now. She’s all the way in the other wing, and I’m sure she’ll be busy with the fallout downstairs for the rest of the evening,” he pushed quickly.
He was very sure his mother would lecture him sometime the next morning, but in reality, it had been her idea to host this farce anyway.
Draco's bedroom doors opened for him, Hermione still in his arms. He had planned it this way. He had made sure the lighting was low, there was a roaring fire, and a bottle of champagne just for the two of them. As he let her feet hit the ground once again, he moved to uncork it.
They wouldn’t be interrupted, he had cast strong wards, to keep noise in, and intruders out.
She stood, her chest heaving, as he passed her the glass. She took a large gulp, not one of nerves but one of triumph.
“It’s rude not to cheers before taking a drink, Granger,” he joked, and she tilted her glass once more.
“To us, and to ruining an evening,” she smirked, holding up her glass.
“We haven’t ruined anything… the evening is just beginning, and if you remember correctly, I had promised you that by the end of the night, you’d be screaming my name. I still mean to fulfill that promise,” he felt the dragon within growl.
She looked so sexy standing there, looking slightly crazed.
He moved toward her, and her head rolled back instantly as she gave him access to her neck, letting him trail his hands down toward her collarbone.
Her skin was perfect, and she smelled like vanilla and champagne. Small curls hung over her ears as he nipped at them with his teeth, the sounds escaping her mouth pushing him on like alcohol on flames.
“You’re so fucking sexy, Hermione,” he growled into her neck as his hands trailed over her exposed back.
He loved her in this dress; he wasn’t ready to have her take it off, torn between wanting to see her completely naked and wanting to see the fabric piled around her hips, her pussy exposed.
“I’ll do anything you want me to do, Draco,”
Oh, she was bloody delicious, his sweet girl, just begging for him.
“I want you to bend over my desk,” he growled in her ear, and she obeyed.
She moved toward the desk and bent down over it, sheepishly, without protest, a glow on her cheeks and a pinkness on her chest.
“Good girl,” he praised, and he heard her moan as his hand trailed down her spine, arching it.
She had closed her legs tighter than he had wanted her to; he’d need to fix that.
“Spread these for me,” he said, lightly smacking her thighs as he knelt down around the hem of her dress, slowly gathering the fabric and rolling it up around her waist.
She did as he said, spreading her legs farther with a small whimper. He could see the sheen glistening between her thighs.
Fucking hell, she was everything he wanted, everything he needed.
His hands moved like magnets toward her soaking wet cunt. The moment his fingers felt the slickness between her legs, he let out a deep groan. It was involuntary; she had this magic over him he couldn’t control.
“I’ve been wet like this since the first time you touched me tonight,” she whispered, and he could have strangled himself with lust. There was no way she had just said that to him.
“And it was for me? Nobody else?” he pushed.
She was feeding the dragon; she knew what she was doing. If this was freed Hermione Granger, then he would never let anyone put invisible bonds back on her.
Only him, and they’d be real bonds, and she’d be begging for his cock.
“Only you, Draco. Only you can make me this wet,” she moaned again, her face against the wood of his desk, his hands lost inside her. He was pumping his fingers and rolling his thumb over that delectable ball of nerves, but now he wanted to taste her.
He dropped to his knees immediately, placing both his hands on the outsides of her thighs, spreading her wider for him.
She groaned louder as his tongue hit the back of her clit, he didn’t even care if he suffocated. He gripped onto her thighs tighter, steadying her down as he licked up the sweetness that ran between them.
His cock was fucking throbbing inside his trousers, and the anticipation building inside him ached to have himself thrust into her from behind like this. They had never done it before.
He had been right about whatever vanilla sex the Weasel had given her. But Draco had been exploring, and he had taken his time, not wanting to push her limits.
But this woman laid out in front of him, this woman was different, was free. His naughty little lion, begging for more.
He pulled his head away, her legs shaking under his firm grip. He looked at her thighs and felt like there would definitely be finger bruise marks, but she didn’t seem to mind.
“Granger,” he breathed, and it came out hoarse.
“I’m going to fuck you like this, but at any time you want me to stop, if it's too deep....if I'm stretching you too wide... Tell me,”
She didn’t say anything, she breathed louder, small little moans still escaping. He had unbuckled his belt and was palming his cock in his hand as she nodded her head, biting down on her lip.
“I want you to say it,” he pressed the tip of his erection at the sopping wet mess that was now her cunt.
“I want you to fuck me like this, Draco,” she breathed, and it stirred something violent within him.
“Ask again,” he said, his voice thick.
“Please, Draco, I want you to fuck me,” she shook, and the madman that he had been keeping at bay all night pushed forward as he plunged his cock into her.
She was so wet, and he fit so goddamn perfectly, feeling her walls hug him.
“Yes, Draco!”
He felt the dragon roar again as he began to thrust even harder, his cock pulsing as he slammed into her, her hips moving into the desk.
She felt so fucking good; he couldn’t help it.
This angle, the way her hair was coming more and more undone, messy as he relentlessly pounded into her, the silvery serpents trailing up her back as he gripped onto them as he repeatedly pulled in and out.
“So fucking tight,” he gritted out
It was the only thing he could get out of his throat as he felt her pussy contracting around him, physically draining him.
She began to move her hips back, matching his strokes, and he almost came in a frenzy.
She was fucking him back, his naughty little lion.
“Good girl, fuck me back. Gods, you take me so fucking well,” he groaned.
He’d need to break away; it felt too good - she felt too good. He wouldn’t last much longer.
He pulled out, and he heard her scream in agony at the loss of him.
“Get on the bed and take this off,”
He wanted to plunge back inside at the sound of her moans, but when she turned, her chocolate swirls melting in her eyes, he just crashed his lips onto hers. She wrapped her hands around his neck, clinging to him, biting down on his lip.
Oh, she fucking wanted it. She wrapped her legs around his waist, and he carried her clinging body as he threw her down on his bed.
He stood over top of her as she latched her eyes onto his. He unbuttoned his shirt, standing with his cock twitching, knowing how close it was to getting back between Hermione’s thighs.
She had done what he asked, taken the dress off, her body completely naked, small finger marks on her thighs.
He loved marking her, making her his.
“You have a nice cock,” the words fell from her lips as she licked them, eyeing him up and down.
He thought he was about to have a heart attack; no way did those words come from her mouth.
“Fuck, you’re a dirty girl tonight....Do you want this cock?” he moved on top of her, pressing against her, feeling her throbbing matching his own.
“Yes,”
“And whose is this?” his hand trailed down, rubbing her clit, and she shot her head back, letting out a shriek.
“Use your words,” he smirked, loving the reaction he could get from her.
“Yours,”
“Whose?” he pressed again, this time with more pressure.
“Yours, Draco. It’s yours,” she moaned again, and he once again thrust himself into her, releasing a primal grunt.
He had promised her she'd be yelling his name, and the sound made him crazed as he fucked her, harder and harder.
She wrapped her legs around him, locking him into place as he pressed in and out of her at a punishing pace.
He could tell she was at her edge; her entire body was twitching underneath his, her legs tightening around him, and her walls contorting and seizing, her breath hitched.
“Yell my name when you cum,” he hoarsely whispered into her ear, and she just shook her head, her mouth open in a perfect little ‘O’.
He bore down, pumping himself harder, hitting the deepest spot he could that would make her drip all over him.
It was all he wanted.
“Draco!” she screamed, it ripped through the room, and he was bloody glad about those wards as he felt her body snap, her face twisting.
She looked so fucking beautiful when she came; he seared it into his mind forever.
The sound of his name, ripping from her throat, dug into that spot he needed for release, giving him the out, giving him the okay.
He let himself be enthralled by his pleasure as the air in his lungs ceased, and the muscles in his body contracted. She had drained the bloody life from him.
He was panting atop her; she lay there, breathing back, his body weight still pressed against her, her legs still lazily wrapped around him as his eyes came back into focus.
“Is that all you got?” she smirked, breathing heavily.
“I don’t think you know what you’re asking for,” he murmured, his lips capturing hers in a hungry kiss.
“I know exactly what I’m asking for,” she replied, her smile mischievous as her hand ran through his hair.
It took him moments to regain his strength and take her again.
But he did, Malfoy men weren't quitters.
Draco lay there, utterly spent, with Hermione wrapped in his arms, sleeping peacefully. He had given her his entire existence, and she just lay there as if they hadn’t just shagged four times.
He was completely empty, drained of every ounce of energy. She had sucked the life out of him in the most delightful way possible.
His head had spun at one point; he was sure he was seeing stars toward the end. But it didn’t matter. He had given her everything she wanted, and he was thankful that nobody could hear the filthy things that had escaped her lips. Those were only for him. She would only be that dirty, that naughty, for him.
The fire had burnt down to embers, casting a soft orange glow in the room. His sheets were tangled around them. He could only see the side of her face illuminated by the dying flames. It had to be almost six in the morning. He should sleep, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. He was enchanted by the way she looked so innocent after everything he had just done to her.
A light rap on the window stirred Draco from his post-coital reverie, and he blinked, momentarily disoriented. Hermione remained still, undisturbed by the sound. As the rapping continued, Draco cautiously approached the window, mindful not to wake her. His Eagle Owl was perched outside, a newspaper clutched in its talons.
Draco gently retrieved the paper, giving his owl a brief pet before it flew off into the early morning sky.
Returning to the desk where he just had Hermione sprawled hours earlier, Draco untied the twine securing the rolled-up newspaper.
Unfurling it, he was met with a jolt that shook any sleep from him as the front page seemed to punch him in the face.
It featured a picture of him and Hermione, Draco's hand entwined with hers, his lips pressed to her ear as they danced. He hadn't even been aware of the photo being taken, he read.
" War Heroine Turns Death Eater Sympathizer: Hermione Granger's Alleged Shift Raises Eyebrows at Unity Project Gala” by Rita Skeeter.
“The wizarding community is abuzz with shocking allegations against Hermione Granger, once hailed as a cherished war heroine and staunch advocate for the fair treatment of muggleborns. It is reported that Granger, known for her tireless efforts in promoting equality and abolishing blood purity, and helping save the wizarding world from “You-Know-Who” may have taken a startling turn in allegiance, aligning herself with former Death Eaters.
Eyewitnesses at the recent Unity Project Gala claim to have seen Granger adorned in lavish Malfoy ancestral jewelry, her arm entwined with what some speculate to be a new romantic interest - Draco Lucius Malfoy. The sight of Granger, affectionately dubbed the 'Golden Girl,' cozying up to a figure associated with the dark past of wizarding society has left many questioning her motives and integrity.
Accusations of being swayed by 'blood money' have ignited a storm of controversy surrounding Granger, prompting further scrutiny into her recent actions and associations. In the coming days, readers can expect in-depth coverage on page six, featuring firsthand testimonies from witnesses of the Gala and insights from other individuals, including fellow Death Eater sympathizer Ginevra Weasley.
As the community reels from these startling revelations, questions linger over the true loyalties of one of its most prominent post-war figures."
Draco's hands clenched into fists, his blood boiling with rage and self-loathing. This was all his fault, his selfishness leading to this inevitable disaster.
He wanted to crumple the newspaper and toss it into the fire. Part of him even entertained the idea of storming the Prophet Office and setting it ablaze.
But he knew it wouldn’t matter. The news would spread like wildfire, reaching every corner of the wizarding world within hours. There was no hiding from it, no shielding Hermione from the fallout.
As he looked at the sleeping angel in his bed, Draco felt a sickening pit form in his stomach.
Fuck.
Did she fully understand what she had done last night?
Chapter 42: Hidden Headlines
Chapter Text
Hermione woke to the gentle sunlight filtering through the slightly cracked window, with a faint breeze blowing in. The clock flashed at 7:35 AM, as her eyes adjusted to the light. She was still nestled in Draco's bed; and her body felt pleasantly sore, particularly between her legs, a tingle that was more satisfying than painful.
The sound of running water echoed from the ensuite connected to Draco's bedroom, and she felt herself tempted to join him.
However, another sense of urgency nudged her consciousness. They should return to the castle soon; they had been out all night without permission, and if they arrived too late it could mean another detention, and Hermione shuttered at the thought.
Just as she prepared to get out from under the blankets, the bedroom door burst open with a loud bang. She instinctively pulled the blankets closer around her, letting out a small shriek at the intrusion.
It was Theo, standing at the doorway with three towering stacks of newspapers floating behind him.
"It's just me, Granger. No need to panic," Theo reassured her, his tone casual. "I've seen it all before, and honestly, it's not my cup of tea anyway." He gestured dismissively toward her on the bed.
“Christ, Nott! Don't you ever knock?" she scolded, hastily pulling the blankets tighter around herself.
Theo smirked, raising an eyebrow. "Well, I do, usually. But this seemed like a matter of urgency. And trust me, I would have knocked if I had known you were... pre-occupied." He gestured towards the bed with a playful grin.
Hermione rolled her eyes, trying to ignore the teasing tone in Theo's voice. "What do you want?" she asked, trying to regain her composure.
“Don’t tell me you haven’t seen it yet?” Theo replied, setting the stacks of newspapers down on a nearby table, and tossing her one.
Curiosity piqued and Hermione tentatively reached open the front page, keeping the blanket securely wrapped around herself. As she scanned the headlines, her eyes widened, and her blood ran hot.
"War Heroine Turns Death Eater Sympathizer: Hermione Granger's Alleged Shift Raises Eyebrows at Unity Project Gala” she read aloud; her voice tinged with disbelief.
"What the fuck.”
Draco had warned her, and deep down, she knew this moment would come. But seeing it in black and white, staring at the accusatory words printed on the page, ignited a fierce rage within her. A sickening feeling churned in her stomach as anxiety crept over her.
Theo nodded, a proud smile stretching across his face. "Looks like your speech stirred up quite the buzz, Granger. But don't fret. I managed to nab a hundred and fifty of these gems this morning from the newsstand in Diagon, and I 'borrowed' the rest from my neighbors," he explained
The bathroom door swung open, and Draco stretched and yawned clad in nothing but a white towel. Water droplets glistened on his muscular torso.
"Bloody hell, Theo, what the fuck is this?" Draco said scathingly, as his eyes hit Hermione’s then shot over to where Theo stood.
"Draco, truly a masterpiece," Theo oozed giving Draco a small wink, but Hermione interjected before Draco could respond.
"Have you seen this?" She tossed the newspaper towards him, and Draco let out a disgruntled huff.
"I hadn't shown her yet. I had it all planned out, not expecting you to barge in here at the crack of dawn; and decide this is how you wake someone" Draco began to lecture, only to be interrupted once again by another loud bang, the door to Draco’s room once again flying open.
"I could only manage about fifty, also Draco your mother seems pissed" Pansy announced as she carried another stack of newspapers.
She appeared slightly disheveled as if Theo had dragged her out of bed. Hermione felt a lump form in her throat at the sight of Pansy, memories of last night flooding back. She pushed down her anger, directing it towards Ron instead. She knew exactly how and when to unleash it.
As if on cue, Zabini and Ginny rushed into the room, before the door had even shut.
"Ginny?!" she exclaimed.
"We managed to grab about eighty between us," Ginny announced proudly, her eyes sweeping over the room.
"So, this is where you two shag? Very ‘Vampy'," she joked, taking in the surroundings.
Draco's frustration boiled over. "Can someone please explain what the fuck is going on here?" he demanded.
"We're attempting to rid the world of this rubbish," Nott smirked, tossing a stack of newspapers into the flames, causing them to erupt wildly.
"You went out at the crack of dawn to gather newspapers?" Hermione asked incredulously.
“I needed assistance, obviously. I hadn't slept yet, so when the post owl arrived with these,” Nott said waving papers in his hand. “I rounded up Parkinson and Zabini…Red just happened to be there too," Theo explained.
"Honestly, a quick ‘Accio’ down a lane cleared most of them up, but the last few roads were dodgy. I was essentially chased out of Bath by what I believe was a hag,” Pansy added.
"Why on earth would you morons do that? You know it won't help anything, right?" Draco retorted scathingly, earning a dirty look from Hermione. Despite knowing it would not work, at least they had tried.
"We're well aware of that, Draco. But we thought we could at least slow down the impending disaster, and a 'thank you' would be appreciated. I was pulled from a very pleasant sleep for this," Pansy snapped, her tone sharp.
Hermione felt a flush of annoyance heat her cheeks, knowing Pansy had likely enjoyed her sleep, probably with Ronald between her legs.
"You did that for me?!" Hermione directed toward Parkinson
"Please, Granger, I did it for Draco," Pansy snapped back.
"Well, I did it for you, ‘Mione, and a bit for myself. Rita mentioned me, you know? Only time will tell how she twisted my words," Ginny huffed.
"I never asked any of you to do this," Draco remained defensive.
"Do you think you two could put some clothes on?" Zabini finally interjected, and Hermione felt embarrassed once again
"You barged in here! It's not like we're in my kitchen!" Draco shot back, exasperated.
“So instead of doing any damage control, you two thought you’d just shag all morning?” Zabini asked aghast.
"Granger was still asleep! I just took a shower! She didn't even see the damn paper until Theo threw it in her face," Draco rounded back.
"It was a light toss, mate. No need to be dramatic," Theo defended.
"The only people I need to talk to are your parents, Gin. Nobody else. I don't care what Skeeter writes, and honestly, does anyone else?" Hermione breathed; frustration tingling.
"I already snagged my parents' copy to buy you some time. But there were a lot of people who were pretty pissed last night, Hermione. You should have seen Amos Diggory... and Amelia Bones's family. Honestly, you need to think about damage control. And what about Ron? Are you going to talk to him?" Ginny asked sheepishly.
Pansy's guilty gaze darted away, and Hermione felt her rage rise again just as it had last night.
She never asked to be dubbed the Golden Girl. She just wanted a better life for herself, her friends, family and now everything she did was being judged?
"Merlin, alright. We all need to get back to the castle before McGonagall throws us in detention again. I'll deal with Ron, then I'll write to your parents. As for the rest of them, I don't owe anyone else an explanation. And honestly Gin, I don't believe I owe Ronald anything either," she spat, glaring directly at Pansy, who refused to meet her eyes.
"Right, well, we'll head back to the castle then,” Theo smiled, ushering a crestfallen Ginny, an annoyed Pansy, and a smug Zabini out of the door.
The clock blinked at 7:55 AM; Theo was right, they needed to leave quickly.
As soon as the door shut, Hermione threw her head back down on the pillow, releasing a small scream of annoyance at the entire bloody situation.
What were Ginny, Nott, Zabini, and Parkinson? Her new fucking PR team?
"I didn't want to wake you like that," Draco murmured, his eyes flickering over to her, betraying no emotion.
"It's only about to get worse, isn't it?" Hermione sighed.
She knew it would.
She knew the students at school wouldn't understand, especially those Draco had tormented under the Carrows last year. She knew the families of victims wouldn't understand either. She wasn't even entirely sure if the Ministry fully comprehended the implications of pairing them together.
She felt herself hurtling down a long tunnel toward falling in love with Draco Malfoy, and it was turning her whole life upside down.
But her feelings for him, what she knew was right, the person she knew him to be – that was all that mattered. She didn't care what the papers wrote about her being bought off or "switching sides." Harry had endured worse, and she would weather this storm too.
"What are you feeling? I can't gauge it," Draco cracked, his anxiety punching the air. It was odd to see him like this.
"I knew this was going to happen. I knew I was being selfish when I told you I wanted everyone to know that you're mine. Look where it got you. You're being slandered for my fucking mistakes?!"
"Draco, I don't bloody care," Hermione retorted fiercely.
"Rita Skeeter is the vilest woman on the planet. She's been waiting years to have something on me. I've made my own decision. Don't try to act as if you're forcing this on me. You're not. I'm just as much in this as you are!" She rounded back
“If you're going to be my boyfriend, then you need to realize that," she added, the words slipping out before she even thought about them.
But that's what he was, wasn't he?
Draco Malfoy was her boyfriend? Gods, she could almost laugh.
She was pretty sure her past self would have fainted at the thought.
"Boyfriend?" Draco pounced on the word, his eyes shifting, but a smug smile playing on his lips. Hermione huffed in response.
"Well, what would you call it?" she said through gritted teeth, knowing he wouldn't make this easy for her.
"Hmm... I don't know... boyfriend... boyfriend," he mused, deliberately provoking her.
"Alright, I'm leaving. I'll see you back at the castle," Hermione declared, moving to get off the bed.
"No, you're not," Draco countered, moving closer to her, his face mere inches from hers, the smirk still present.
"I've changed my mind," she snapped.
"No, you haven't," he growled back, capturing her lips in a kiss.
Hermione protested weakly but soon found herself falling back onto the bed as Draco's hands began to explore her bruised thighs.
"Does this mean I can take you on a date? Girlfriend?" Draco purred
"A date?" Hermione questioned, caught off guard by the sudden proposal.
"Yes, a date, Granger. Please tell me the Weasel took you on a bloody date?" Draco pushed himself off her, looking horrified.
"Well, Ron and I usually just went to the Leaky with Ginny and Harry, or sometimes had picnics in the field behind The Burrow," Hermione admitted, realizing she had never really experienced a proper date like the ones in movies.
"Wow, Parkinson is a lucky girl then," Draco snorted, but Hermione shot him an edgy look. She wasn't quite ready to joke about that.
"Since the entire Wizarding World will know in about five or six hours, what do you say? Let me take you on a real date?" Draco continued, looking nonplussed by her side eye.
"A date? Alright, Draco. You can take me on a date. Do I get a say in where or what we do?" Hermione questioned, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves.
"Muggle date or Wizard date?" Draco offered.
"There's a difference?" Hermione raised an eyebrow.
"A huge difference," Draco explained, scrunching his eyebrows in amusement.
"Muggle. I've had enough of the Wizarding World for one night, and I can't wait to see you interact with Muggles. It's going to be a treat for me," Hermione smiled.
“Oh, you’re in for a treat alright...” he leaned down and re-captured her lips
"We need to leave," she managed to say between kisses, but her words were futile.
"Ten minutes, give me ten minutes," Draco murmured against her mouth, his hands becoming more insistent.
They were going to be late, and Hermione was certain they would face another detention. But if it meant allowing Draco Malfoy's lips to be all over her, she decided it was worth it.
Theo had barged into the dormitory at the crack of dawn, the sun barely up, and Pansy had been beautifully wrapped around Ron as Theo tossed a newspaper at them.
It took Ron a moment to realize that firstly, Theo clearly knew about their relationship, and secondly, Hermione had royally fucked up by the look of the front page of The Daily Prophet.
He wasn't about to dash off around the countryside rounding up newspapers, and honestly, he was surprised that Pansy had agreed to do so. But she quickly rolled out of bed, throwing on some clothing.
"You're not seriously going, right?" Ron asked, stunned, as she buttoned the final button on her cardigan.
"And you're seriously not going to help?" she shot back.
"It's not like it will make a difference, Hermione did this to herself! And from my point of view, Malfoy doesn't deserve anything except this type of publicity," he spat, sitting upright in bed, feeling the coldness now that she was gone.
"Right, but your sister does?" Pansy retorted, holding up the paper and pointing to Ginny's name as well.
"Bloody hell, fine! If I come, don't you dare tell Malfoy!" Ron thundered, throwing on his pants.
He was slightly hungover, his hair wild from Pansy's hands running through it all night, and she just gave him a satisfied smirk.
"Also, care to let me know when Theo found out about us?" Ron nudged Pansy, and she just shrugged nonchalantly.
"He's my best friend, the same way that Potter knows," she smirked back, and he grimaced in response.
Fuck, he didn’t think she’d bring that up. He guessed she must have felt comfortable having Harry and Theo being the few who knew, she would want to keep it that way.
"Right, where to then?" Ron added reluctantly as they moved toward the Floo in the Common Room. McGonagall had set it up the night before for the Gala, leaving it open until 8:00 AM this morning, so they'd need to be quick.
"Somerset," Pansy said as she stepped into the hearth.
The morning had been rubbish. Pouring rain, icy cold—nothing seemed to go right. Even after Apparating into nearly ten different villages, they had only managed to gather about fifty papers. Pansy had nearly been run down by a hag as the villagers woke up and realized their Prophets were missing. Ron shot a stunning jinx, and they Apparated back to a small Inn, using the Floo to get back to Hogwarts, it had taken them almost an hour.
But now, Pansy was adamant about going back to Malfoy's. There was no way Ron was going to show up at Malfoy's this early in the morning to admit he had been rounding up newspapers like a madman, to help cover his and Hermione's ass— and perhaps even his sister's.
He should feel worse about Hermione, but the picture from last night on the front page had proved everything she had lied to him about.
Though Ron didn’t fully agree with Skeeter’s editorial, he couldn't deny that Malfoy was trash, that bit had been correct.
He completely understood why some families were outraged. At this point, all he wanted from Hermione was for her to admit what she had done. It was a matter of principle.
Ron stepped out of the Floo, just at 7:45 AM. Pansy only had fifteen minutes to get to Malfoy's and back, and he felt anxious for her. The Common Room was already littered with Daily Prophets and students, had their noses buried in the papers.
Suddenly, Ron felt the weight of everyone's eyes on him as a few students whispered back and forth.
"This can't be true, now, can it? Malfoy and Granger?" Seamus shouted towards him, sitting with Dean at one of the tables by his room.
"They sure do look cozy in this," Dean chimed in. "This must be why you punched Malfoy in the face, Ron?" Seamus blurted out again, and Ron felt annoyance welling up inside him.
"Why don't you ask Hermione?" he shot back, slamming the door to his dormitory room and falling back onto his unmade bed.
He was with Pansy. Not Hermione.
He was in love with Pansy.
She had a knack for making him feel perpetually intoxicated as if he were in a blissful, almost surreal haze— if that made sense. He was bloody rubbish with his feelings.
If he could, he'd shout it for the entire common room to hear. Hearing her say she loved him felt like a release; she was without fault, utterly perfect.
It broke his heart completely that he couldn’t be open about their relationship. He had made a promise to himself that by the end of this year, she’d be free from the grasp of her mother, and he’d take care of her.
He’d make sure she was happy; she’d never have to worry. If that meant winning the Chalice or working two, three, or even fucking four jobs this summer while she interned at the Ministry or worked on the shop; she had told him she wanted to open, he’d make it work for her. He’d do fucking anything for her.
But he was sure that everyone probably thought he was still not over the fact that he and Hermione had broken up. Now, her new relationship was splattered all over the goddamn newspaper—the relationship she had fervently denied. This is what Harry must have felt like when the news broke of Ginny and Zabini. He felt trapped.
He'd get more letters from home—distressed ones from his mother, concerns from his brothers and father—and all he wanted to say back was, “I love Pansy Parkinson. I don’t give a rat’s arse who Hermione dates.” And strangely, he found himself actually meaning it. Even if it was Malfoy, the bloody king twat of twats, it didn't hit him as hard as expected.
Just months ago, the mere idea of Hermione and Malfoy together would have sent him into a rage. Sure, he still resented the lies from his best friend/ex-girlfriend, all for Draco's sake.
Yet, the expected surge of hatred seemed to be missing. Instead, there was just a faint pang of... what was it, irritation maybe?
Ron's eyes were still heavy as he reclined on his bed. He couldn't pinpoint when he drifted back into sleep, but he did. He jolted awake to the sound of laughter echoing from the common room, realizing it was nearly noon. He had missed breakfast and hunger gnawed at him. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he set out toward the dormitories, intending to find Harry.
Ascending the staircase, he noticed an unusual silence in the common room below, with copies of the Daily Prophet still scattered about.
Knocking on Harry's door, he was met by a disheveled crazed best mate who looked like he hadn't slept a wink.
"Are you alright? Is Hermione alright?" Ron pushed, his first instincts kicking in, as he remembered the events of the previous year.
"I haven't seen her yet, but I’m sure she's fine.” Harry waved him off and Ron stepped into his bedroom. Piles of newspaper clippings, ripped parchment, and books, Ron was surprised he didn’t see one of those muggle flow charts with names and dots connected somewhere on the wall.
“Last night, just before I went on stage, Kingsley said some cryptic stuff about the project and how it's crucial for covering up something the Ministry did after the war. I made Kingsley promise to tell me before I left...I've been lied to by too many adults in my life,” Harry explained, pacing back and forth.
“Alright, I don’t love where this is going,” Ron gulped.
“Dolohov, Yaxley, Amycus, Alecto, Avery, Mulciber, Rosier,” Harry counted on his fingers.
“Death Eaters? What about them? Aren’t they the few who are still on the run after the battle? The Aurors haven’t found them yet,” Ron asked, confused.
It had made big news that the Ministry had lost some of the worst of Voldemort's followers, but Kingsley had set a team of Aurors to track them and assured the community they’d be no threat.
“They aren’t on the run, Ron. They’re dead,” Harry said firmly.
"If they were dead, wouldn’t that be front-page news?” Ron countered quickly.
“No, not the way they went about it. After the Battle, after the Trials, some higher-level Ministry officials thought it best to try to capture all the escapees at once, and they leveraged Nott and Malfoy to get it done,” Harry explained.
“I’m really not following along here,” Ron admitted, feeling thoroughly confused.
“They asked Theo..... Mine and Hermione's testimonies were enough for Malfoy. But they asked Nott to leverage his father's position to entrap the remaining Death Eaters and bring them in. If Theo succeeded, he’d be released without any issues or stipulations. Kingsley said that Malfoy stepped in and agreed to help. Apparently, the plan went horribly wrong, and Kingsley said that Draco and Theo killed them, all of them—almost twelve in total at the end of it; it was a massacre. The Ministry was so horrified they tried to find a way to cover it all up.”
Harry continued, looking crazed, and Ron felt a heat rising within him.
What the fuck?
He couldn't picture Theo killing anyone. Honestly, he could barely picture Draco killing someone. After the Battle, after the Room of Requirement, Draco had seemed... reluctant? Yet, he had volunteered to help Nott. It didn’t make much sense.
"Alright... But I don't understand how this has anything to do with the Unity Project," Ron questioned, trying to make sense of the situation.
“The Ministry doesn’t want it to be known they were involved with essentially hiring assassins. If the Unity Project fails, it could bring to light all the Ministry's failures since the end of the war. There could be an inquiry and if there is an inquiry, Kingsley is worried that the public will find out what the Ministry has done, what they asked of –“But Ron interrupted.
“What they asked of two teenagers? How is it even possible that Malfoy and Nott were able to kill twelve Death Eaters?” Ron was floored.
The depths of the deception ran deep in any Ministry official, not just the ones who had been in charge before the war. How could Kingsley have let it happen? Ron believed in justice; he believed in the Auror department; in Kingsley.
“I’ve been partners with Nott for over five months, and Draco trained with Bellatrix, Rodolphus, maybe even his father… trust me I don’t think it’s impossible. Kinglsey said it was Theo who lost it, they saw it in his memories, once Theo gathered all the fleeing Death Eaters at his Manor, he snapped.. and Malfoy had to jump in, it was a bloodbath.” Harry breathed loudly, finally sitting down.
"Fucking hell," Ron said in disbelief.
"I feel like I've been stabbed in the fucking back!" Harry bellowed, slamming his foot into the stool with a resounding thud.
"By Kingsley or Nott?" Ron questioned, surprised but Harry's sudden outburst
"Of course, by Kingsley! That bastard used me as his goddamn poster boy for unity, for progress, for heroism! He paraded us around at every damn trial, shoved this project down our throats, and all the while my partner was being coerced into assassinating people? It's insane! And we're supposed to just keep smiling and playing along to keep the damn community happy? Well, let me tell you, the community isn't fucking happy, Ron! They're furious! And they have every right to be! They're being lied to just as much as we were!" Harry's voice cracked with rage as he spat out his words.
"Pretending like we're doing some grand fucking favor by helping right wrongs and change viewpoints. All the while it's all lies! Malfoy and Nott didn't deserve to be used as pawns by Voldemort and then the goddamn Ministry, only to be shoved back here and hated by all of us, like they're the fucking bad guys! The Ministry..."
"Don't be crazy mate. They were the bad guys..." Ron interjected, trying to reason with Harry's boiling anger.
"Malfoy didn't even want the Dark Mark, didn't want to kill Dumbledore, didn't want to hand me over to Voldemort! He's a product of goddamn circumstance!" Harry spat out, his voice dripping with venom as he defended Draco, a sight that made Ron's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. A sight that Ron had never in his entire life thought he’d see.
"And Nott?" Ron pressed, curious.
"I... I don't know. Sometimes, just when I think I understand him or know him, I'm a hundred miles off," Harry muttered, sinking into his chair.
"What can we even do about it? We can't just out them! That could make everything even worse—for Nott, for Malfoy, for the Ministry! Especially after everything that went down last night. The resentment is already there, the hatred is still there..." Ron pressed.
"We need to win this damn Chalice, one of us, either you or me. I get it, Hermione will probably want it for her parents, but if we make it to the final Hunt together, we should work together! If one of our teams wins, we can actually use it to make a difference, not just talk about it!" Harry insisted, his determination burning, though Ron couldn't shake off his unease about the idea.
"You can't just magically make every problem in the wizarding world disappear," Ron retorted.
"Yes, you can! It's literally the whole point of the Chalice," Harry argued back, his voice growing more desperate.
"Harry... I just... I don't know if I can agree to that right now," Ron admitted, feeling torn. Winning the Chalice had been his own selfish desire, for Pansy.
"Okay... do you not want to win?" Harry pressed again.
"Of course, I want to win!" Ron snapped
“Well, what do you want then?” Harry asked again
"I want to win for Pansy, so she can be free to do what she wants with her life, not forced into something by her parents," Ron admitted, feeling the weight of his confession hang in the air.
"Oh..." Harry's expression fell, a mixture of understanding and disappointment in his eyes.
"I could abolish those rules too? Pureblood traditions? We could eradicate everything, create new policies," Harry suggested, his exhaustion clearing taking over in his words, but Ron could see the fervor in his eyes.
Harry needed sleep.
"Honestly, you think you're going to rewrite all our laws and policies just because you’ve won the Chalice? Something is bound to get messed up! It's not that simple," Ron countered, his voice tinged with skepticism.
"Why not focus on making change where we can actually have an impact, like in the Auror training program? We can start there, work our way up, become head of department... Asking a Chalice to change the whole world is bloody insane! We don't even know where to start or what needs to be changed. Also how do you plan on convincing Nott without telling him you know he’s a damn murderer?" Ron reasoned, hoping to bring some sense back into their conversation.
"Don’t call him that," Harry snapped, his tone sharp. "It’s the entire reason I want to do it. I want to win for him now, I know you understand that" Harry said quietly, leaving Ron utterly perplexed.
"If you and Nott have become friends or gotten close, then why don’t you just talk to him about this?" Ron suggested tentatively, very unsure about where this conversation was going.
"When have you become so reasonable?" Harry huffed, the bags under his eyes heavy with fatigue.
"I've heard that stupid shit and Gryffindor goes hand in hand, and I'm trying to rewrite that narrative," Ron smirked to himself, thinking of Pans.
"You know... if we're going to start talking about our feelings now, then we should go find Hermione," Harry suggested, glancing over at the Daily Prophet on his desk. "I'm sure she's anxious about all of this," he added.
"She's dating Malfoy, right? That is true?" Ron asked, though he already knew the answer from the events of last night.
"She's with Malfoy, I don’t know if they’re dating... but I should have told you. I've known since Christmas, but when I came back and found out about Zabini and Ginny, then you and Parkinson, it all got so fucked up that I just... well, I just thought it kind of pointless," Harry chuckled bitterly.
"Since Christmas then? And they've... you know?" Ron grimaced, the image of Hermione wriggling under the sheets with Malfoy was not sitting well with him. He couldn't shake off the feeling of unease, knowing Malfoy's womanizing past and Hermione's reserved nature.
"Gods... I walked in on it at Christmas. I think I'd rather have my scar burn again than be reminded of that sight," Harry laughed, but Ron felt a wave of nausea at the thought.
Hermione was still his ex-girlfriend, and the idea of her with his lifelong enemy left a bitter taste in his mouth, the fact that Malfoy had been Pansy’s first left him with rage, and jealously he couldn’t describe it, although the thought of Draco was always just general loathing.
"Yeah, that's probably enough imagery for me," Ron nodded, feeling a bit queasy. "I'll go talk to 'Mione, and you should take a nap," he suggested, turning back toward Harry.
"No, I'll go too. I didn't get a chance to talk to her after the speech last night, and it was before I knew about all of this from Kingsley, so I gave some lame vague speech, and she took the hit," Harry insisted, getting back up from his seat.
"How big of a mood do you think she'll be in? Should I bring my wand?" Ron laughed as they left the dorm.
Chapter 43: You've Been A Real Bitch
Chapter Text
Harry’s head was spinning as if on an axis. He felt dizzy, almost like at any minute he could collapse. He had been running on almost forty-eight hours without sleep, feeling like he had lived a hundred lives.
Just seventeen hours ago, he had Theo’s mouth around his cock, and Harry enjoyed it, actually he fucking loved it. Then just a minute later he was rushed off into a hushed corner after Hermione’s blow-up of a speech and told by Kingsley that Theo had helped execute twelve of the most dangerous Death Eaters to exist.
He didn’t know if he could forgive the Ministry this time. The anger ebbed and swelled. Not once since Harry had entered the wizarding world did he feel like the Ministry had done anything other than fuck shit up.
He was driving himself crazy wanting to ask Theo what truly had happened. It was no surprise that Theo had snapped, after everything Harry had seen in his Pensieve, and Theo’s mirrored future self.
How many people had Theo killed? He couldn’t picture it. Theo was an enigma, and Harry wanted to know more—no, Harry needed to know more.
Was Nott truly cruel? Or was he just seeking vengeance? Harry wasn’t sad to hear about the deaths of Dolohov, Rowle, and the Carrows, but the way it had come about—Malfoy and Nott could have died, and the Ministry would have just covered it up? Harry couldn’t think of it.
He felt like the largest fucking twat on the entire planet, having gone up on that stage last night and lazily danced around the truth. But had that been Kingsley's plan? To keep him in the dark just long enough to do his bidding?
Harry had let Hermione take the biggest hit, the biggest fall. She got up on stage and spoke the truth he should have, but didn’t.
He needed to go find her. So, when Ron suggested they should, he knew he couldn’t sleep now. His mind was still on fire. He needed to apologize, to explain, but not explain too much. He didn’t know if he could trust Hermione not to tell Malfoy about what he had found out, and he was 100% sure that Malfoy hadn’t told her anything.
She cared about him too much, and Harry knew what it meant to be cared about by Hermione—she’d do anything to protect her loved ones, even throw herself on the metaphorical stake. He couldn’t risk her finding out yet. The time wasn’t right. Harry needed to figure out what he should do if Nott and Malfoy even wanted him to do anything at all. He felt he shouldn’t stand by idly, but was it his call to make?
“You haven’t seen her at all today, have you?” Ron asked, snapping Harry out of his thoughts as they walked toward the Common Room after knocking at Hermione's door and finding not a sign of life behind it.
Their eyes darted to the room below, whispers hushed as they took each step. Harry had dealt with it enough over the years that he barely registered it.
“Nope. But Parkinson went to Malfoy's this morning after we went on a wild goose chase rounding up Prophets, so the snakes might know” Ron huffed as they took their last step onto the Common Room floor.
Harry's eyes moved to Draco’s room, feeling slightly anxious about what he was about to suggest. Ron seemed to be more reasonable about the knowledge of Hermione and Draco being together, but Harry didn’t want to push it too much—Ron's anger could flash quickly and suddenly without much ignition.
“I hate to suggest it, but... maybe we should...” Harry grimaced, looking toward Draco’s door. Ron let out an exasperated sigh.
“Bloody hell... alright,” he agreed.
Harry walked up first, feeling slightly bonkers with his wild hair, bloodshot eyes, and purple bags under them—honestly, he reminded himself of how Malfoy looked all sixth year.
He knocked with firmness, internally hoping that neither Draco nor Hermione would be there, and she'd be in the library or he'd be in the Great Hall. To his dismay, the blond hair and sharp, contorted features of Draco appeared seconds later.
“What do you two want?” Malfoy said incredulously, but with less harshness in his tone than he had in the past.
“Do you know where Hermione is?” Harry said bluntly, feeling Ron shifting uncomfortably behind him.
Draco stared between the two of them, searching, calculating, his tongue pressed against his cheek as he leaned against the doorframe. Harry tried to peer in to see if she was behind him.
“Why?” he finally asked.
“Fuck off, Malfoy, and tell us where she is. We don’t need to tell you why we want to see her!” Ron barked quickly.
“Actually, Weasel, since you’re asking me where my girlfriend is, I think it’s well within my rights to wonder what you want with her,” Draco replied with a devilish smile.
Fucking hell, Harry had made the wrong decision coming here.
“Girlfriend?” Ron said back in disgust.
“We just want to know if she’s alright,” Harry said earnestly, trying to evoke any empathy Draco may have had. He knew it was in there somewhere, buried.
“I haven’t seen her since we Floo’d back from the Manor this morning. We thought it might be best to gauge the reactions of the general student population in small bits, but I’m sure she’s in the library with Red,” Draco said back sharply as if it hadn’t been his idea to be away from her.
“Right, we’ll start there then,” Harry replied.
“Floo’d back from your Manor this morning? She stayed the night?” Ron said back in shock.
“It’s not the first time,” Draco smiled widely.
“Thanks, Malfoy,” Harry said quickly, ensuring that the interaction between Draco and Ron wouldn’t escalate.
“Weasley, you may want to have your wand ready,” Draco winked and slammed the door.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean? And can you believe she’s slept there? In that haunted fucking house? She must have gone absolutely mental. Should we get her Healer to do an evaluation?” Ron said quickly, more concern than anger in his voice, which was a surprise.
“Let’s just start with finding Hermione,” Harry growled through his exhaustion, and they pivoted toward the doorway leading to the corridor.
As they moved, Harry heard the latch of a door swing back open, and Draco rushed back out, throwing a blazer over his button-up, a delighted smile ripping up his cheeks.
“Second thought, I should probably tag along, just to see how she’s doing,” he grinned and pushed past both of them.
“Seriously, Malfoy? I think you should sod off and stay here. You’re only going to make it worse,” Ron snapped.
“We’re fine to talk to her on our own,” Harry interjected, his tiredness not putting him in the mood to deal with this pissing match.
“Don’t worry, I’ll walk a little ahead so nobody thinks we’re all mates now. That would be horribly embarrassing for me,” he smirked and continued walking.
Harry rolled his eyes and looked over to Ron, whose face contorted in frustration.
“I don’t know what the fuck she sees in you,” Ron spat, and Draco waved him off quickly.
“Funny, I used to say the same about you.”
It was a silent walk down the hall, Draco pacing about five feet ahead, and Ron looking like he wanted to hex the back of him. Harry was slightly worried that Ron was going to go off on Hermione, especially now that Draco had just rubbed more salt on the wound.
Harry sensed he was walking into a duel. He could turn back, pull the parachute, and nap, but no, Hermione was his friend, and he wasn’t going to let her deal with this alone.
Honestly, for the conversation he wanted to have with her, it might be better if Malfoy was there, as long as Ron could keep his temper in check.
They walked into the library, and dozens of heads spun as soon as Draco walked in, several feet ahead of them, then back to where Ron and Harry were. Harry hadn't anticipated this many students in the library, but they were mostly fifth-years.
He paused for a second and pulled Ron aside, wanting to ensure they put distance between themselves and Malfoy.
“Alright, walk casually down this stack and meet me by the restricted section, at that table she loves.”
“Alright,” Ron huffed and broke off.
Harry walked quickly down the long rows of stacks and abruptly halted in his steps, his ears catching the hushed but intense voices echoing from the obscure corner of the library.
It was Hermione's unmistakable tone, possibly Ginny's, and undeniably Draco's. As he turned the corner, their conversation came into view.
"No, I'm not in the mood to talk to Ronald right now, and frankly, I can't believe you decided to tag along for it," Hermione's scolding voice reached him first, followed by Ginny's worried expression when their eyes met.
"Um, hi... we wanted to have a word with you..." Harry began awkwardly, noticing Ron appearing on the opposite side of the table.
"Merlin, did we really have to go through all that just to find her?" Ron grumbled irritably, prompting Hermione to whip her head around, her expression dangerously fierce, while Draco leaned smugly against the wall.
What the fuck was going on?
"Don't give me that look! I came here to check on you after everything —after months of you lying to me!" Ron snapped. “Nothing going on between you and Malfoy? Really? Because he just told me that you're his girlfriend. How does that make sense, 'Mione? You lied, and for him? For bloody Malfoy!" His words spilled out, and Ginny shook her head, signaling for him to stop, while Harry instantly regretted agreeing to come.
"Don't you dare, Ronald Weasley!" Hermione shot back, her posture straightening, and Harry could practically feel the waves of magic radiating from her.
"Me, a liar? Me? Maybe you'd like to start again? Perhaps offer me an apology for the way you've treated me?!" Hermione began, her voice rising, while Draco chuckled.
"The way I treated you? Seriously, 'Mione? You told me there was nothing going on between the two of you. How long did it take after we broke up for you to hop into bed with him? Huh? I'd be less annoyed if you'd just been honest from the start, but you tried to hide it, then outright lied to me about it, and even tried to manipulate me into thinking I was mad for suggesting it!" Ron accused
"How long it took ME to hop into bed after we broke up?!" Hermione roared with a bitter laugh, reminiscent of Bellatrix, and Harry immediately understood.
Hermione knew about Pansy.
"Seven days, to be precise," Draco interjected, clearly relishing every moment of this confrontation, while Ginny buried her head in her arms on the table.
"Draco," Hermione warned, her tone sharp.
"Seven days? Surprised it wasn't the same damn night," Ron scoffed, but Harry didn't detect jealousy in his expression; instead, he saw the indignation of being deceived.
It was strange. Pansy must have really had a hold on him. The Ron he knew would have exploded at the mere thought of someone else even kissing Hermione, he recalled the Yule Ball all too vividly.
"And what about you, Ron? How long did it take before you found yourself between Parkinson's thighs? From what I know, it was also seven fucking days! You hypocritical bastard!" Hermione's roar filled the air, and Ginny attempted to quiet her down, but Ron's face drained of color instantly, and Harry let out a frustrated groan.
Bloody hell, what a shitshow.
The only person seemingly to enjoy the argument was unsurprisingly Malfoy, Harry understood why he was so eager to tag along now.
"You told her," Ron rounded on his sister, and Ginny stood up, clearly annoyed.
"I didn't tell her anything, you idiot!"
"No, Ron, I have eyes! Something you clearly didn't have when you decided to snog Parkinson in Malfoy's garden last night for all to see……….. Did you even bother to check if anyone was on the terrace?" Hermione's voice dripped with sick satisfaction.
"Oh, fuck, the terrace..." Ron breathed, realization dawning on him. "Hermione, me and Pansy, it's different. It wasn't planned... it just happened! I didn't have feelings for her until after we broke up. I never lied to you!" Ron defended himself, his tone desperate.
"You never lied to me? No, instead, you just made me feel like bloody garbage for four months while you've been shagging Parkinson all over the castle," Hermione shot back.
"I haven't been shagging her all over the castle, for bloody sake, Hermione. I'm in love with her! Look, I know you're pissed at me, and I'm pretty pissed at you, but please don't say anything about this to anyone else?" Ron's tone shifted from anger to almost pleading.
"Why not? If you love her, why not just admit it? Why are you hiding? Are you ashamed of her or something?" Hermione fired back, her words dripping with hostility.
Harry knew it had crossed a line, but Hermione had been hurt, Ron had been hurt, and tensions were running high.
It was the first time the smug smile was wiped off Draco's face, and he watched Hermione closely, searching for the exact emotion.
"So we can end up on the front page of the bloody Prophet like you two?!" Ron shot back. "I'd be the first person to admit it to everyone, and I've already told her how I feel. But what you don't understand is not everyone has the freedom to do as they please like you do! Pansy’s still in the grasp of the old regime, whether her parents admit it or not, she doesn’t have the freedom to just choose who she’s with, I can’t risk it!"
"Free to do whatever I want?! If I had been free to do whatever I wanted, I would have told everyone about Draco a long time ago. But I was terrified of losing you, losing your mum, your dad. You think this bloody article is somehow freeing?” Hermione gasped outraged.
“I've lost the most important people in my life. I couldn't stand the thought of losing the only people I had left because of my feelings. And if you truly understood that, then you wouldn't have been so damn cruel to me for as long as you were……. It was selfish. You've always been selfish Ron. You seem to understand those feelings when it comes to Pansy, but not when it's one of your best friends. Regardless if we crossed that line from friends to a couple, that should have only made you understand more. But it's only when it suits your needs that you develop a shred of understanding" Hermione finished, her breath shaky, anger receding and hurt washing over her.
"'Mione..." Harry began, moving toward her.
"No, Harry... What the hell was that last night? You caved. You should have told the damn truth," Hermione's eyes filled with tears, and Harry felt a pang of guilt.
She was right. He did cave.
"I know, Hermione, I fucking know. That's why I wanted..." Harry started, but Hermione cut him off sharply.
"No... I don't want to hear anymore," Hermione's eyes were watery as she clumsily grabbed her bags, and Malfoy moved to her side, grabbing her last book, as she stormed off, leaving Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Draco in her wake.
"That wasn't as satisfying as I had hoped it would be….” Draco said “You two idiots take her for granted, and one day she'll realize it," he added coldly before stalking off after her, leaving Harry to huff out a frustrated breath as Ginny glared up at him from the table.
Ron bolstered off without another word, leaving just Ginny and Harry. Harry felt oddly uncomfortable in her presence alone. He couldn't remember the last time it had been just the two of them.
"Well, that was a mess, wasn't it?" Ginny broke the tension with a heavy sigh.
"Yeah, well, not everyone can just run up and snog their respective partners publicly, can they?" Harry snapped back, unsure if it was fatigue or genuine annoyance driving his words.
"What the fuck, Harry? I thought you were okay with Blaise and me," Ginny looked back, stunned.
"I guess I'm not. You know, you've been a real bitch to me this year, Ginny. And I've let you. I've let you walk all over me, and I haven't said a word because I know we're all going through it…..But I think you should hear it because you haven't handled yourself any better than Ron or Hermione have," Harry rounded on her, and Ginny just stared at him, speechless. He couldn't recall ever speaking to her like this before.
"Tell me honestly, when did you and Zabini start?" Harry pressed, his suspicions lingering all year yet suppressed as he grappled with his own demons, Theo becoming one of them.
She let out a long sigh. "After our first hunt, we kissed. But then I told him it meant nothing. And I truly didn't think it did. But for so long, I felt like you treated me like a delicate little sister, and Blaise didn't... I didn't let myself actually get involved with him until after the second hunt."
"Right. And was all this to punish me for last year? For leaving you behind? For worrying about your safety?" Harry blurted, feeling a pang of betrayal. His suspicions hurt to hear confirmed.
"Of course not. None of that was about you or wanting to hurt you. That's the worst part. Everything in my life had been about you up until Blaise. Him and I... that's about me," Ginny said, her voice cracking.
"That's what I'm talking about, Gin. You're not even apologetic about it!" Harry burst out, feeling the surge of frustration.
"Harry, you didn't fight for us either, you've shown zero emotion about the breakup —about Blaise, about any of it until right now," she huffed
"I didn’t come here to start an argument. I just wanted you to know not to act like you're mightily above the feelings of others in your journey to 'find yourself'. I just hope you like who you are at the end of it," Harry finished and walked back down the stacks, feeling a bit of his old dramatics creeping in.
He wasn't sure if he truly meant what he had just said to her, about liking herself. But he wanted to hit her hard.
She had always been strong-willed, and unforgiving to some extent, but she was smart, witty, popular, and fun to be around. He didn't see that Ginny anymore, or maybe she just didn't let him see that side of her anymore. It was probably the latter.
Harry felt delirious as he walked, the exhaustion swirling within him, the emotions of Hermione and Ginny pulsing through his core. This year was supposed to be easy, yet it had been full of emotional struggles.
They were all so fucked up, and they just walked around like they weren't fucking each other up at the same time.
Harry pushed through the Common Room door to a flurry of conversations and students, then clamored up the steps directly to the door beside Hermione's, and pounded.
"Potter?" Theo casually leaned against his door, shirtless with only light linen pants on. His room was bathed in warm orange light, with music playing and a light smell of skunky smoke in the air.
Harry didn't say anything, he just pushed past Theo and entered his room. He noticed a joint hanging off his desk in an ashtray, and a few open books sprawled on the desk. Haunting music played from the record player; it was muggle music.
Harry looked down at the spinning record. He didn't recognize it, but the album cover depicted a man and a woman, her leg dangling over his as he stood. The band's name read Fleetwood Mac.
"What is this song?" Harry asked as Theo shut the door and moved toward him, running his hand through his shaggy brown hair, a smirk playing up his left cheek.
"Dreams," Theo said slowly, as the song pulsed through the air, somehow feeding into Harry's desire to press his lips onto Theo's.
"What are you doing here?" Theo moved closer, placing his palms on both sides of Harry's cheeks, examining his face as if he were reading a rune, trying to decipher its meaning.
"I want you to kiss me again," Harry said, his heart pounding.
He was admitting it, admitting the truth to himself and to Theo. He wanted him. The only time Harry felt truly alive was in Theo's presence. He cared about him. Harry cared about Theodore Nott, and it wasn't the same way he cared about Neville or Seamus. It was... intimate.
"That's all you want, a kiss?" Theo leaned in, capturing Harry's bottom lip with the last word, and Harry instinctively groaned, the weight of the day falling off him.
"From you, it's what I want," Harry said gruffly.
"You have no idea how fucking hot you are, do you?" Theo gripped his hands harder onto Harry's cheekbones and pressed his tongue hotly into Harry's throat, and Harry just let it happen.
He wanted to let it be natural, but he also wanted to explore. He wanted to make Theo feel the way he had felt last night in Malfoy's library, his mouth soaking up his shaft.
So, he took the initiative and rolled his hands down toward the center of Theo's thighs, stroking his cock.
It was a strange feeling, unlike anything he had done before, and warmth spread through his blood. It didn't feel wrong; it felt uninhibited. Theo let out a moan at the movement of Harry's hand.
"Are you sure you're ready for that?" Theo broke away, gasping at the smoke that filled the air from the still-lit joint on the desk, the music swirling in their brains like dopamine.
"Why wouldn’t I be? I’m brave…. daring... and sometimes... reckless," Harry panted as he swirled Theo's pulsing cock in his palm through the sheer linen of his pants.
"Don't do that to me, Potter. Don't rattle off your fucking Gryffindor house traits like it won't immediately make me cum," Theo groaned, throwing his head back.
At Theo's words, Harry lost all sense of control, as if he had much left anyway.
Ginny's panting filled the room as Blaise's tongue dipped deliciously in and out of her cunt, long deep sweeps over the sensitive skin of her clit.
She wrapped her legs around his strong shoulders, her head pressed back against his soft pillows.
Across his bed, a Montrose Magpies Quidditch poster stared back at her. Every inch of her body was on fire at his touch, her wetness dripping onto his lips, so why couldn't she relax?
"That's it, baby, cum for me," Blaise moaned into her as his fingers continued to rub her clit.
"I need your cock, Blaise” Ginny huffed, and Blaise moved quickly, latching her legs onto the tops of his shoulders and spreading her wide.
She felt the coolness of the air tingling her raw bundle of nerves now that the heat from his mouth was off her.
"Thank fuck," he grunted as he grasped himself in his hand and thrust his cock into her—relentlessly
She felt her body swell with pleasure; she loved feeling him inside her. It drove her wild watching him slide in and out of her like this; she was desperate for an orgasm.
Harry had gotten under her skin, and she needed a good fuck to rid herself of any guilt she might have been feeling.
"Look at you, Ginevra, a bloody masterpiece," Blaise groaned as his hands ran up to massage her breasts, flicking at her nipples the way he always did.
"Baby I need you to really fuck me, don’t hold back" she gasped as he pressed against her thighs, his movements swift as he grabbed her hips and flipped her onto her stomach.
Her breath hitched as his cock hovered dangerously close to her entrance, and her pussy contracted at the loss of him in the movement.
"Grab the headboard," he demanded, his tone firm, exactly what she craved - roughness.
Blaise leaned down, placing a tender kiss on the small of her back, his hands pressing down and arching her toward him, she was fully exposed and ready for him to take her.
She buried her face in the pillow, panting and flushed, lost in the sensation as he entered her once more, the ringing in her ears drowned out by her desperation for it.
Slowly, he withdrew, and in her haze, she hadn't realized he hadn't fully entered her until he sank deeply into her walls, eliciting a squeal as her clit throbbed against his pelvis.
"Fuck," he moaned, holding her steady with hands gripping into her ass, his fingers digging into her as he pulled back and then drove into her again with force.
She clutched the headboard with all her strength, the pleasure, and pain blurring into an intoxicating sensation that consumed her thoughts, as she begged for more.
He was slamming into her with a force that threatened to overwhelm her, every thrust pushing her limits. She fought to stay upright, the pressure of his hands on her back almost too much, yet so fucking good.
His raw power only fueled her want, her arousal dripping down her thighs with each relentless movement. The need for his bollocks to collide with her clit becoming almost unbearable.
"Blaise...yes...please...more," she pleaded, her need for release mounting. Her eyes rolled back, and her mouth hung open as she called out his name.
Her orgasm crashed over her like a searing hot wave, her thighs tensing and knees buckling as he held her firmly, his own release mingling with hers as he continued to pump into her.
“Shit,” Blaise finally panted as he let Ginny’s body sink back into his duvet cover, she felt the mixing of their cum swirling between her thighs, and he dipped his fingers back into her and rubbed the their stickiness over her still-sensitive clit.
"You have no idea how fucking sexy this is right now, you filled with me," Blaise said breathily, as he spread her legs wider to take in the view.
With whatever strength she had left, Ginny reached for her wand and cast an ‘Evanesco’ before flipping over to face him.
"Not fair," he teased
“I can’t sleep like that,” she teased back.
“Why not?" he asked as he settled down beside her, the mattress bouncing at his weight.
"Covered in cum?" she shot back, her tone teasing.
"I think that's when you look best," he joked
"Such a pervert," she rolled her eyes playfully. "I needed that, after what happened with Harry this afternoon, it's all I could think about," she admitted, surprised at her own bluntness. Her brain hadn't quite caught up with her body yet.
Blaise shifted quickly in his bed, looking at her stunned. Panic set in as she realized the implications of her words.
Oh shit... maybe Harry had been right, maybe she was being a bitch. Why was she blurting out every damn thing that crossed her mind?
"What the fuck? Were you just thinking about Potter then?!"
“No! That’s not what I meant, it sounded different in my head than what I said out loud,” Ginny explained quickly, her words rushing out in an attempt to clarify.
“It sounded like you were fucking me to get the thought of your ex-boyfriend out of your head,” Blaise retorted, his tone direct as always.
“Blaise... no... it wasn’t like that at all. It’s just... he kind of went off on me today in the library after the blowup with Ron and Hermione, and he made me feel... well, he made me feel like maybe I’ve been selfish and bitchy. I've never in my life heard him talk to me that way... so yes... it’s been bothering me. But please believe me when I say not a single part of my body just now thought about anything other than you,” she explained earnestly.
“What do you mean he’s never spoken to you that way?!” Blaise's jaw tensed.
“Well... I think I may have deserved it. I told him about kissing you during the first hunt,” Ginny admitted
“You did?!” Blaise looked slightly shocked. “Why would you ever do that? Now that you two are over, you don’t have to tell him shit,” he continued
“Hide it from him forever? Like it or not, Harry will always be a part of my life somehow. I’m not exactly sure how he fits in right now, but... he’ll be there in some way,” Ginny explained.
“Gods... I had hoped that maybe that wouldn’t be true,” Blaise huffed out, annoyed.
“It’s just... I’m sorry to be dumping all this on you now, after... well, after that orgasm,” Ginny said, looking down at him with a smirk. His face softened with a jokey smile.
"No, don't apologize for that... This is probably the best time to do it. I feel very relaxed," Blaise smirked, his tone deepening.
He rolled his arms behind his head as he laid back, the dark muscles twitching with the movement.
“All it takes is a shag and I can say whatever I’d like?” Ginny laughed.
“Honestly, I was never going to let you go after the first time you kissed me. You could do or say pretty much anything, and I wouldn’t put up a fuss. Except if you told me you were fantasizing about Potter while we shagged... I would have been pissed about that, but then I would have fucked you so hard that you’d never think of him again” he laughed back.
Since she had been with Blaise, Ginny had felt empowered, as if she had finally taken control of her life. But had it come at the expense of others?
Had she been treating Harry poorly? The lack of communication from her parents about last night's events only added to her anxiety. And she knew she hadn't been the kindest to Ron lately either.
She worried about the potential repercussions. She had stolen her parents' copy of the Prophet this morning, but with her dad's return to the office tomorrow, the backlash could easily come via owl at any time Monday morning.
Hermione was handling this better than Ginny ever would have, she was being the bigger person. She had been enduring sneers and harsh comments from fellow students all day as they walked into the library. Ginny admired her friend's resilience as she lifted her head and continued forward.
But when a fifth-year Ravenclaw called Hermione a traitorous slut, Ginny snapped.
She rounded on the stupid bitch, her wand at the ready, prepared to hex the girl's hair into a buzz cut until Hermione intervened, grabbing her arm and urging her to keep walking. It was just the beginning of the hostility, and Draco and Hermione hadn't even made their relationship officially public yet besides the words from Skeeter and the obvious photo in the paper.
Ginny realized she needed to try and reconcile with Harry, with Ron, and make more of an effort with her parents. With Rita Skeeter and the Wizarding World potentially sending a storm their way, she needed her allies, her friends, and her family, to be supportive of her decisions.
She needed to let them into her new self, not keep them out. Finding a balance between embracing her newfound freedom and maintaining the essence of the girl they knew her to be. It wouldn't be easy, but it was necessary for her own peace of mind.
To start she’d invite Blaise over to dinner at the Burrow next weekend, she had decided, she’d write her parents in the morning.
Chapter 44: The Royal Suite, Obviously
Chapter Text
Draco seethed with the desire to burn down the entire castle, with almost everyone still inside. Then, he’d set fire to the Prophet office, even the Ministry itself.
He fucking despised the world he inhabited, tempted at times to flee with Hermione back to the Muggle world, snapping his wand in defiance. But such thoughts were nothing more than dramatics; he knew he could never bring himself to do it. Since Rita’s article first hit the stands, things had only spiraled downward.
The following week brought more articles about Hermione, in Witch Weekly and the Prophet. One particularly hurtful quote from an idiotic anonymous source stuck with Draco: “I hoped my girls would look up to the heroine Hermione Granger, not anymore…” He could tell that one got to her, despite her attempts to brush it off. Even though she had said that she had never asked to be a role model, he knew her well enough to read the signs of hurt.
It was all his fault.
He had pushed for their relationship to be made public, selfishly, and now he was consumed with a guilty conscience. Hermione hadn’t spoken to Potter or Weasley since their confrontation in the library. Draco couldn’t help but replay those moments in his mind, relishing the sight of the Weasel’s face being drained of color. Potter had made several attempts to reach out, but Hermione wasn’t ready yet.
For now, Draco was reaping the rewards of having her to himself. They hadn’t fully broken down all barriers yet; Hermione still hesitated to join him for meals in the Great Hall and there was no fucking way he was sitting at the Gryffindor table.
But they walked to class together, and occasionally studied together in the common room, it felt like a sanctuary, shielded from prying eyes and judgmental whispers. While some Gryffindors still cast disapproving glances, Finnegan and Thomas mostly, the remainder of the older students seemed to just ignore their relationship entirely.
Draco had been wanting to take Hermione on a proper date, something genuine, not just some fucking picnic in a backyard or a drink at the Leaky Cauldron. He wanted her to know how much she meant to him.
However, convincing McGonagall to grant them a night off wasn't a simple task. He couldn't bring himself to ask the Headmistress for permission to wine, dine, and shag Hermione Granger.
Instead, true to his nature, Draco found a way to make it happen regardless of obstacles. Hermione had agreed to meet with heads of departments at the Ministry at the end of the school week—the Department of International Magical Cooperation and Magical Law Enforcement—after receiving numerous letters inviting her to intern with them, seizing this opportunity, Draco reached out to Kingsley regarding the offer to join the Auror training program in July.
Kingsley replied, expressing interest in discussing it further in person, which Draco had hoped he would. So, when he approached McGonagall's office to request leave from Friday into Saturday, she had no grounds to refuse.
With the fourth hunt approaching, Draco saw it as a chance to bring up the topic of the Chalice. It was something he had been postponing for months, but he wanted a clear understanding of Hermione's strategy for winning and he wanted her to understand his own.
"What time do you meet with Kingsley again? I meet with Ivy Triff at 3:30 on Friday then Dawlish at 4:30?" Hermione's question was tinged with anxiety, repeated almost four times. Draco remained determined to stick to his plan for the evening and keep it a surprise.
"4:00, so after you're done and I'm done, we'll meet in the Atrium," he replied kindly as they strolled from Alchemy toward the Common Room.
"And then we goooo?” Hermione asked casually as if he had inadvertently revealed something. She was sharp, but he wasn’t Potter or Weasley so easily fooled.
"I told you, just let it be a surprise," he teased.
"I'm no good at surprises. I can't plan for surprises. What should I wear? What should I bring? Do I need my toothbrush? Do I need hiking boots? Or maybe my potions briefcase? You can surely understand where I'm coming from," Hermione rattled on.
Draco chuckled, enjoying seeing her momentarily lose her sense of control, clearly desperate to regain it.
"Are you truly struggling this hard to have control over a date?" Draco laughed. "I can tell you a few things: you will absolutely not be in need of hiking boots or a potions briefcase. Just pack your overnight bag, whatever that includes. Make sure to slip in one of those naughty little nighties I love, and show up around 5 in the atrium. Alright?" he finished, and she gave him a side scowl.
"Alright, but if I don't bring the correct apparel, that will be your fault," she scoffed.
"And I'd happily take the blame," he rolled his eyes as they rounded a corner, where a group of about four or five students were gathered. It looked like a mix of Ravenclaws and some Gryffindors, maybe sixth years? Draco didn’t like how the energy shifted in the hallway as they walked.
He needed restraint.
For the past six months, all he had done was exercise fucking restraint. He didn’t care what these leeches said about him, and in some cases, he had deserved it.
"It's fine," she whispered, observing his face, clearly noticing his tensed jaw and carefully watching eyes.
He felt his hand hovering over his wand, he was faster than most, he knew that much, if they tried anything.
He had already been hit with a hex or two in the hallways this year, and he had always just let it happen, but he wouldn’t if anything were to be directed at Hermione, he’d fucking murder them all.
The group's voices hushed down a little as they walked by, exchanging glances and stifling laughs as they continued on their way.
"Hey Granger, which cock do you like more? The war heroes or the Death Eaters? I never knew Muggleborns were such sluts for purebloods," a snide Ravenclaw shouted from behind them as they were just feet away.
This fuck was in for it.
"Draco," Hermione threatened, but he was already spinning around.
"What did you just say?" Draco was on him in an instant.
This was going to be satisfying, and he knew it. All year he had repressed his anger every time some incel spat bullshit at him.
Not anymore. He'd go to Azkaban for Hermione; and it would be worth it.
"Granger, you better get your dog back on its leash before it's locked up," the boy taunted, standing tall with his group of cronies behind him, clearly feeling invincible.
Little did he know, it would take Draco about a minute to severely maim all five of them.
"You think because there are witnesses, I won’t ruin that already ugly fucking face of yours?" Draco said in a low voice, taking a step forward. His demeanor was calm, and calculated, and the boy's face instantly dropped.
"It’s five against one, Malfoy," the boy stuttered stupidly.
"I’m usually up for a challenge, although this won’t be much of one," Draco replied, eyeing the Gryffindor who was about to reach for his wand.
Draco was faster. With a swift lunge, his fist connected hard against the Ravenclaw's cheek. Then, he rounded back with another blow to the brutish Gryffindor behind him.
He felt like starting with physical violence; for some reason using his wand felt like an easier way to be expelled or thrown in prison.
"Draco, stop!" Hermione pushed, but it didn’t matter. Both boys were sprawled on the floor.
"Speak to her like that again, and next time it won’t be my fist," Draco spat, and both boys shot up, spitting blood.
The Ravenclaw clearly had a broken cheekbone, and the three of the other students took off, the Gryffindor grabbing his injured friend and rushing behind him.
This might have earned him a detention, for the rest of the year….
Draco looked over to where Hermione was standing, hands on her hips, looking thoroughly angry.
"Pleased with yourself?" she stammered.
"Very much so, I didn’t even have to use my wand," he said back with a shitty grin, and she scoffed and spun on her heels.
"Granger! If you ever think I’m going to let anyone talk to you like that, then be mad because it's never going to fucking happen again in my presence" he shouted after her.
"You don’t think I can handle myself?" she rounded back.
"I know you can handle yourself; I’ve seen it firsthand, don’t forget,"
"Then why go around risking expulsion or bloody prison just because some stupid teenage boys decide to be jerks?" she asked, and he took steps closer, seeing her face in the light now.
He watched her breath catch as his lips were close to hers, and he brushed a strand of curls behind her ear.
His hand had blood on it, but he ensured it didn’t touch her delicate skin.
"Because you’re mine, and nobody speaks to what is mine that way," he whispered.
"Are you angry with me?" he pushed again, enclosing her against the wall, so he had her completely engulfed.
"Yes," she breathed, with no hint of anger left. "Yes?" he questioned, his fingers dancing up along her thigh.
He didn’t know what it was, maybe a sickness in him but anytime he was faced with a fight, he got so fucking horny after, and Granger in his presence would do nothing but stroke that desire.
She breathed heavily as his fingers continued to run up her skirt, and toward her panties, she voluntarily parted her thighs.
“Fucking Christ, you’re soaked”
He could have collapsed, her panties were drenched.
She fucking loved watching him punch those cunts in the face. “Did you get turned on watching that?” he moved his lips to her ear, and she let out a long-moany breath and nodded.
Naughty, naughty girl.
“You’re so sexy Granger.” he bit down lightly on her ear and he slipped two of his fingers into her beautiful pussy, ensuring it was the one with his signet ring— always the one with his ring —he thought deliciously to himself.
"Draco – fuck – that…. that feels too good," Hermione moaned as he held his body in front of hers, ensuring nobody else got the view of her that he did.
His blood-soaked hand was firmly against the wall beside her face, as she closed her eyes and bit down on her lip stifling the reaction in her body.
"What feels better, these?" he moved his fingers deeper, rolling his thumb on her clit, "or my cock?" he finished.
"Your cock," she moaned, the answer he knew it would be.
"Do you want it?" he asked again.
"Now? Here?" her eyes shot back open, scanning up and down the hallway.
"There’s an alcove just up there... I don’t know if I can make it back to my room," he gulped heavily, the throbbing in his pants growing.
"These public displays are getting a little out of hand, don’t we think?" the voice trailed down the hall, and Draco instantly held Hermione tight, removing his hands from their precarious position. The urge of the exhibitionist in them just did not want them to succeed in public shagging.
"Please, fuck off, Theo," Draco turned as Theo’s shaggy brown hair and stupid smile were now just feet away from him.
"Hi, Theo..." Hermione said in a small embarrassed voice as Draco helped adjust her skirt.
"Lovely to see you, Granger," he winked. "This doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that I just saw two bloodied sixth years running by?" Theo questioned, eyeing the blood caked on Draco’s hand.
"Running straight to Pomfrey or McGonagall?" Draco questioned, weighing his options.
"Pomfrey. They can’t seem to remember what exactly happened to them," Theo smiled and twirled his wand in his hand, and Draco knew exactly what he had done.
“Anyway, I didn’t want to interrupt but I need to get through this corridor to get to my dorm so if you don’t mind resuming your shag maybe until I’m gone or perhaps taking it somewhere else, unless you want me to stay and watch?”
“Nott,” he growled, and Theo understood completely that he was on his last nerve. Theo nodded and kept walking, the boner in Dracos pants losing steam.
“Did Theo mean that he… did he Obliviate them?” Hermione’s eyes were wide in disbelief.
“It’s his favorite spell,” Draco replied quickly, still slightly annoyed at the interruption.
“Draco… if he is caught... he could go to Azkaban. I remember the terms of his release,” Hermione said quickly.
“He won’t get caught, and how do you remember the terms of his release? That was months ago…” Draco questioned.
“I remember the terms of yours as well,” Hermione looked up at him suggestively and moved from the wall, walking down the corridor.
He followed like the good dog he was.
“Do you now?” he questioned her.
Hermione cleared her throat and began to rattle on like she was reading from the verdict papers “Draco Lucius Malfoy stands acquitted, absolved of all allegations against him. However, the tribunal deems it necessary to impose certain conditions upon him. He shall forthwith resume his studies at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for a final academic session, during which he must successfully pass all his NEWTs. Moreover, he is strictly prohibited from engaging in any form of dark magic, and his movements beyond the borders of the country are restricted until the conclusion of December 1998. Furthermore, he is enjoined from employing any malevolent spells or curses upon his fellow students or associates during his last term at Hogwarts. Additionally, he has levied a fine of 100,000 galleons as a consequence of his actions. These terms are binding and must be adhered to without exception.”
“Merlin, Granger, your mind terrifies me,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around her small body as she walked in front of him, and she smiled back at him smugly.
“Technically, you didn’t break any of your probation terms. I don’t remember the Wizengamot saying anything about you not being allowed to punch people in the face,” she cooed.
“I’ll keep doing it if it gets you that wet. Who next? Potter? Weasley? Hell, Theo?” he teased, leaning down and putting his head on her shoulder.
“Don’t push it, Malfoy,” she joked as she let him kiss up the back of her neck.
Fuck, she was incredible.
Hermione couldn’t have been more thankful that it was Friday. The last few weeks had been excruciating. She wasn’t speaking with Ron, and Ron wasn’t speaking with her.
Harry had tried a few times, and she knew she’d eventually have to hear him out, but she wasn’t going to let him off that easy. It didn’t matter if she was walking the halls with Ginny, by herself or with Draco; she heard the backhanded comments, the whispers.
Her heart almost felt ripped out of her chest when a third year came up to her in the library and told her that she and her friends had fought against the regime of the Carrows last year, supporting Harry, Ron, and herself. The girl confessed she was devastated when she found out her hero was with one of the men who made her life hell.
That hit Hermione hard. How do you expect children to understand the complications of war? She barely understood it herself.
She tried her best to keep her head up, but she felt sickly satisfied when Draco slammed his fists into those fucking sixth-year boys' faces.
Even if she didn’t want to admit it, it was like she drained some of her own pain through him. She didn’t have a leg to stand on being angry with him; she wished she could, but she was getting tired of being the bigger person.
She wrote to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley but didn’t hear a reply until she wrote again, letting them know she’d be at the Ministry this afternoon. Arthur had replied and said he would meet her at 3:00 PM in the café inside the Atrium, and that had really been the extent of it.
She had requested to Floo directly to the Ministry. McGonagall had written her a special permit to allow her overnight leave and to return to the castle on Saturday at 12:00 PM.
She hadn’t been to the Ministry since the trials in June, so it felt strange when she erupted out of the Floo, the black marble tiles and green jets of fire erupting around her as she quickly moved out of the way for the next passenger.
She felt prepared to meet Arthur, and Dawlish, and Triff, she wore high-waisted cream trousers and a white button-up with a matching blazer. She tamed her hair as best she could and cast her Extendable Charm on her bag to tuck everything she would need to meet Draco later.
It was causing all sorts of weird fluttering feelings in her stomach, the thought of spending the night away with him in the Muggle world. She had desperately tried to pull any information out of him she could, but he was a stone wall.
What she hadn’t prepared for were the looks she was getting from Ministry employees: some very cordial nods, and others, looks of repulsion.
She could handle it at school, but here —in this world that she already struggled in, she felt the heat of tears boiling behind her eyes, unsure of how to push them down.
"Hi, Mr. Weasley, good to see you," she greeted Arthur politely as he was reading a file folder, sipping a cup of tea at a table for two in the Ministry café.
"Hermione," he looked reluctantly sad as he stood up to greet her. "How are you? I hear you’re meeting with Dawlish and Triff?" he continued as she sat down, and he pushed a cup of tea toward her.
"Yes, I’m interested in those two departments if I decide I want to intern here, so I’m looking forward to understanding more about what the roles and career options for me,” Hermione said back, matter-of-fact.
“Well, you couldn’t go wrong with either,” he said back cordially but stiffly.
“Ah, Mrs. Weasley, she hasn’t, uh, returned any of my letters,” Hermione asked, feeling the heat behind her eyes again.
Arthur let out a long sigh. “I’m sorry. I don’t think Molly is quite ready yet. You know, you don’t have to go into detail about your personal life with me. I understand that teenagers like yourself have complex emotions, but if it’s true, you’re with the Malfoy boy... well, it’s just been hard to swallow. We haven’t heard much from Ron either, but he says he’s fine... I’m not sure if you two are speaking right now, and frankly, it’s not my business. Just know that I view you like one of my own, and there may have been a part of me that wanted you to be officially a member of the family, but if that won’t be the case, please know I will always be there for anything you need, Hermione. You’re always welcome in our home. Molly may need some time to soften, but all I want is for you to be healthy and happy. Do you understand?” Arthur said delicately, and Hermione felt the tears betraying her.
“I do... it’s just... you know you’re the only family I have left, and you’ve always meant so much to me, and I really didn’t want to do anything to hurt any of you,” Hermione quickly wiped away the tears running down her face.
“I know, dear. I’ll defend you until the bitter end, but the Malfoys... you know I don’t have any kind words for that family, and I don’t trust them. There are a lot of people who are wanting to see their downfall or yours now too, for that matter... just be careful, alright? Be sure you know the people who you are putting your trust into,”
“Draco isn’t his father,” Hermione said softly.
“I truly hope that you are right about that.” Arthur nodded. “Now, let’s finish your cup of tea, and tell me more about what interests you about Magical Law Enforcement or International Cooperation, and I’ll give you some tips with Triff and Dawlish,” Arthur said, passing her an inconspicuous napkin.
Arthur was good at distraction through difficult conversations; she always knew that Molly was going to be the one who held her resentment closer to her chest. Her children were her everything, and Draco had poisoned Ron, maybe accidentally aimed at him, but nonetheless poisoned him, bullied him, and of course, Lucius and Arthur. But she was very grateful for the conversations with Arthur regardless; it made her feel slightly better — not completely whole again — but better.
Her interview with Triff went really well; they went back and forth about what the department was looking for, what Triff had felt like it lacked, and was strong at.
Hermione couldn’t help getting slightly excited about the prospect. Triff needed someone to be the point person between the rest of the European Ministries, a job that would keep Hermione learning about other magical traditions yet wouldn’t take her too far from home, from Draco.
Dawlish, on the other hand, Hermione was positive he had been confounded too many times, as his questions and answers were lackluster. She was sure that Harry would be head of that department by next year.
She thanked Dawlish quickly at the end of their half-hour meeting, and he seemed grateful for the chance. Neither Dawlish nor Triff seemed to hold any animosity toward her despite the political shitstorm surrounding her personal life. Triff had let it slip once that she was keeping up with the Unity Project, but Hermione also suspected Department Heads were so tightly aligned with Kingsley that showing signs of negative disposition wouldn’t garner favors.
She stepped out of the lift into the Atrium exactly at 5 o'clock, feeling her body relax as she glanced across the lobby.
There, she spotted the tall, impeccably sculpted figure of Draco Malfoy leaning against a pillar, with other witches and wizards giving him a wide berth as they passed by.
"Hello there,"
"Malfoy," she smirked in return. "How was the interview?" she asked quickly, noticing heads turning to watch their interaction.
"Let's get the fuck out of here first, shall we? I'm already checked in, so once we're at the Apparition point, we can head straight there," he said swiftly.
"Checked in? Are we not staying at your flat where you bring all your Muggle girls?" she quipped, feeling a twinge of jealousy at something that had happened months ago.
"No, Granger, we're not going to my flat where I used to bring all those Muggle girls. I've actually put it on the market. Got an offer, so it should go quickly," he replied casually.
"You're selling your flat?" she exclaimed in surprise as they walked.
"I told you I would, didn't I?" he retorted casually.
"So, where are we staying tonight? The Inn above the Leaky Cauldron?" she joked, knowing full well that Draco Malfoy would never.
"Gods, no. The Royal Suite at the Savoy, obviously," he exclaimed.
"Oh, right, obviously, how could I be so daft" she replied dripping with sarcasm.
As soon as they reached the Apparition point, Draco grabbed her waist, and they spun on the spot, feeling the familiar squeezing sensation until both their feet landed on the ground.
She was entranced; she didn’t think she had ever been in such a nice hotel room in her life.
Now, she hadn’t exactly grown up without money, but it was nowhere near this level of lavishness.
She looked around as Draco watched her intently. There was a bottle of champagne chilling in an ice bucket, with long-stemmed glasses. When she looked into the bedroom, the bed was undeniably luxurious, and there was a white box with a big black bow and dozens of creamy peonies in vases.
”Draco, this… this is… I'm speechless," she uttered as she walked into the bedroom. "Is this for me?"
"It's all for you, Hermione," he replied, his voice catching in a way it rarely did. She walked to the box, her heart racing.
Draco always went big; he had at Christmas with the jewelry and this date, it was too much.
"You shouldn't be spending Galleons on me like this," she said as she went to untie the bow.
"I'd drain my damn vault for you. You're the only person who I want to spend Galleons on," he smiled as he moved toward her.
She felt her face flush, not knowing what to say as she untied the bow and found a dress. It was ivory, backless, similar in cut to what she wore to the gala, yet a little less formal.
"I've planned dinner for us, in about forty minutes. If that gives you enough time to change, then I figured we could walk back through the palace gardens, slightly tipsy, and come back here... and maybe I could transfigure this dress into something a little more revealing?" Draco moved toward her, and she felt a pulse in her body.
"Draco Malfoy, you think you can take me to bed after the first date? You must think I'm easy," she scoffed jokingly.
"Oh trust me, I'm going to work for it," he murmured before capturing her mouth.
Hermione managed to extricate herself from Draco's roaming hands and slipped into the washroom to get ready.
She was nervous; she had never been to a fancy restaurant on a date, with a boyfriend. After cleaning up and refreshing herself from her day, she slipped into the dress.
She didn't understand how he could pick something out that was so perfectly her.
When she finally emerged, he was standing with a glass of champagne in his hand, outstretched to her. He wore a muggle outfit; black trousers, a crisp button-up with the top buttons undone, and a suit jacket.
He looked delectable.
They clinked their flutes and with a few sips of champagne to calm her nerves, they departed for the restaurant.
It felt strange being in the Muggle world; she hadn't been since the summer. The hostess didn't seem to care who they were as she led them to their table, eyeing Draco more than Hermione would have liked. But he placed a firm hand on her lower back as they walked.
The restaurant wasn't stuffy; it was vibrant, old money, yet fast-paced. Within minutes of sitting down, a bottle of champagne was dropped in a bucket beside them at their table, and the waiter set down their menus.
"Are you going to tell me how the interview went now?" she asked, holding up her glass.
"Surprisingly well. Kingsley pushed pretty hard on that he'd like to have me join. We touched on all the backlash I've currently been getting and how my presence in the law enforcement office might not go over well. He mentioned he'd prefer if I were on a specialty team, one a little less in the spotlight than the one he wants Potter and Weasley on, which honestly could be a good thing," Draco said, watching her.
"What would this specialty team do?" she questioned, not loving the fact that Kingsley was being so secretive about Draco's placement.
"He didn't elaborate too much, but I can assume he'd want me to go after or do the things that he doesn't want The Chosen One to do," Draco said casually.
"And that's something you're interested in? Doing the dirty work?" she asked quickly, and his eyebrows peaked at the innuendo.
"Granger... you know I love doing the dirty work," he winked.
"Prat," she scoffed.
"I'm considering it. I told him I'd let him know by the registration deadline of April 30th," he said coolly, and Hermione nodded.
It was still almost two months away.
"And your other options?" she asked.
"I could always continue to work on my Potions research, and use my inheritance to fund some experiments. I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm top of the class. Quite good at Potions," he said, smiling.
"Enough about my conversation. How was Dawlish, Triff... Weasley?" he asked, the last name sounding as if it pained him.
"Arthur was good, supportive, as much as he could be. I don't think I'll be going around for dinner anytime soon but it was a start. Dawlish was... well, Dawlish. But Triff, honestly, that piqued my interest. They'd want me to be the liaison between Germany, Netherlands, Belgium, and France, which would be fascinating. I did ask if I could do part-time so I could attend Muggle college, but she insisted it was a full-time position. So, I thought maybe I could do Muggle college part-time..." she continued, her head swirling as the options raced through her mind. She didn't want to lose the opportunity for studies or to work in International Magical Cooperation.
"That sounds like an awful lot of work, with not a lot of time for extracurriculars," he said as their first course was placed in front of them.
"It would be about 70-hour weeks, from the calculations in my head, but I think I could do it," she said determinedly.
"Do you want to do it? You know, either one could wait for the other," he reasoned.
"Yes, but if I go directly into the ministry, stepping back and going to school may be hard. And if I go back to school, the opportunity may not be there again,"
"You're Hermione Granger; the opportunity will always be there," he assured her.
"I don't think the name means as much anymore as you think it does," she said coolly, looking down.
"I didn't want this to happen, any of it, for you to be dragged down with me," he began, but Hermione cut him off.
"Draco, it's not your fault. I don't want to dwell on it tonight; I'm having such a lovely time," she continued.
"Is there something else I could bring up, and if you don't want to talk about it, we don't have to, alright?" he asked earnestly, making her feel anxious.
"Alright," she agreed.
"We're going into the fourth hunt next week, and unless we completely fuck it up, which we won't, we'll be in the final. We have a damn good shot at winning that Chalice, and I already know what you want it for, and I wholeheartedly support it. What I want to know is, what are the chances of restoring your parents' memories without it?" he brought up the topic abruptly, and Hermione wasn't ready for it.
"Oh, alright... well... in the summer, speaking with their Healers, it didn't seem likely that they'd come back at all. The recommendation would be that I'd walk away from it to avoid mentally handicapping them," she answered.
"What Healer were you working with?" he asked carefully, calculating, Slytherin.
"Stroop," she answered and took a bite.
"Would you be open to me having Healer Van Beek take a look? He's world-renowned and..." he began, but Hermione jumped in.
"I've heard of Van Beek. I tried, Kingsley tried, but at the time he wasn't taking any more special cases," she said.
"I could get him if you wanted me to," Draco pressed.
"How?" she questioned.
"Doesn't matter how; just know I could get him.”
"It does matter how Draco," she said back quickly. "Let's say you get Van Beek and he cures my parents. Is that what you're hoping for, so you can use the Chalice for something else?" she questioned, not upset, just wanting to understand.
"I would. I want to use it for us,"
"For us?"
"The reason why you're going through what you're going through is because of me, my past, my name. If I could rewrite what that name meant in society, you would no longer have any doubts coming from anyone about your intentions, about your feelings. You wouldn't have to play this game with your family and friends. We could just be together without the bullshit. I know I don't deserve to have my past erased, but you sure as hell don't deserve to be treated unfairly because of it," he said genuinely.
Hermione looked into his grey eyes, and she felt herself soften. She knew where he was coming from, and she knew it wasn't just about him, his reputation.
There was no doubt in her mind that at some point earlier on in their partnership, maybe right after they were partnered, what he was asking her was for selfish purposes, to give himself a new start. But now, he wanted to give them a new start.
"Draco," she croaked. "I'd live every day of my life under scrutiny, tolerate whatever they write about me or say about me —if it meant I could have my parents back,"
"Alright, I'll do whatever it takes to win," Draco simply said back, as if he had just bound himself to an internal Unbreakable Vow.
“Just meet with Van Beek. If he says the same thing as Stroop and the others, then we still have the Chalice," he added.
"I'll meet with him," Hermione agreed.
"I would do anything for you to be happy. If I can give you both, I will," he breathed, and Hermione felt herself stumbling internally.
She was in so deep with him.
Ron had told her that he was in love with Pansy. It was such a surreal feeling when she heard that slip from his mouth. She was still angry with him, but she understood love enough to know why he had done everything he did.
Draco had been concerned about what feelings would surface when Ron had admitted he loved Parkinson. Hermione should have felt... jealous? That's what most girls would have felt when their ex fell in love with someone else.
But she was so entrapped in her feelings for Draco that she didn’t even register it as an emotion she should have had.
She loved Ron, yes. She loved Harry. Now more than ever she realized how similar those two loves were. Friendly, brotherly.
They were nothing compared to how she was feeling with Draco.
Was this what it meant to be truly in love? It was terrifying. Her entire body had been burning since September, and she was terrified of it being extinguished.
Hermione felt intoxicated by the evening. Draco had been perfect, joking with her, easing her mind after their conversation about the Chalice. He had ordered the entire dessert menu when she had told him she couldn’t make up her mind.
He had been wildly offended when she grabbed for her bag when the bill came, and he pulled out a Muggle credit card which Hermione gaped at.
"You have a credit card?"
"Honestly, I think Gringotts could learn a thing or two. It's very convenient rather than having to carry Galleons on you at all times," he said as he helped her off the seat.
He held her arm, and they began to walk out of the restaurant, the overly enthusiastic hostess saying goodbye to Draco as she eye-fucked him.
Hermione rolled her eyes as they stepped out into the busy London street and began to walk toward the gardens.
"Alright... tell me... how did you end up in Muggle London this summer? It’s so weird to see you like this... so... normal?" she joked as he kept his hand on her lower back as they walked.
"As you know it started with the entire wizarding community wanting to see me in Azkaban, or dead, so I got a flat in Knightsbridge, and luckily Blaise, Theo, and Pansy were feeling very similar."
"And Greengrass?" Hermione added, and Draco huffed. "And Daphne," he confirmed.
"We got bored the first few weeks of drinking and smoking in my flat, so Theo thought it was a good idea to try this Muggle nightclub called the Ministry of Sound. It was bloody wild that first night. I had never heard music like that, or seen cocktails and outfits so outrageous... it was like I was on another planet. I got addicted to the atmosphere, I used it as an escapism."
"That…and the girls..." Hermione continued, and she blushed it was her second time bringing it up.
Fuck.
"Yes, Granger, and the girls..." he clicked. “I knew you were jealous when you were questioning me in class,” he continued, and Hermione flushed.
“Jealous?” she spun.
“Jealous...” he leaned into her ear and whispered it.
“I was fully immersed in the life here. Granted, we’d Floo back to the Manor or Nott's estate for day drinking, pool parties, and Quidditch, but we knew there was an expiry date of how long we could hide. It wasn’t until I got back to the castle, the first time I saw you come out of Weasley's door, that I knew I had changed. I wanted you so badly. I resented it. I actually wanked in the shower to the thought of your nipples, begrudgingly, of course, because I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact you could hold that power over me. But look at me now, completely powerless for you,” he finished and Hermiones entire body thumped at the thought of Draco being at her mercy.
“Have we gotten to the part of the night where you transfigure this into something more revealing?”
“Jumping ahead, are we? You’ve always been such an eager student,” he grasped her wrist tightly and pulled her close, and within seconds spun on the spot.
The echo of their reverberating crack rang through the gardens.
Chapter 45: Slow Long Drags
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Ron was tapping his quill on his desk, trying to focus on the remaining parchment in front of him. He knew he needed to finish his Charms work before Flitwick was on his ass again.
But, the door to his room swung open, and Ron watched as the Disillusionment Charm faded, revealing Pansy standing in the doorway. It had become routine for her to spend her nights in his room.
“Don’t you get sick of having to cast that every night? You could just walk in?” he quipped, his eyes drawn to the subtle display of cleavage as she loosened her tie and unbuttoned her blouse.
Pansy smirked knowingly, moving closer to Ron’s desk.
“Not yet but soon, anyway it’s a small price to pay for the pleasure of your company, Weasley,” she teased, leaning against the desk.
"Plus, I'm getting rather good at it," she said with a mischievous grin, kicking off her heels.
Ron's attention immediately shifted, his eyes lingering on the exposed tops of her breasts. She knew exactly how to drive him wild, and in that moment, he had the naughtiest idea.
If he was going to procrastinate, he was going to do it right.
“Can I fuck your tits, Parkinson?” He asked, still tapping his quill on the desk, his eyes locked on hers with a half-open smile.
“And why would you want to do that?” she asked, unbuttoning another one, delicately.
“I think they’re perfect for it,” he began, and meaning it; despite her small frame, she had developed very nicely.
“And I think too much of my attention has been elsewhere. I don’t want them to feel like they've been left out,” he half-joked as he moved to help her continuing to unbutton.
“They are feeling thoroughly neglected,” she whispered, and the remaining fabric of her blouse was on his floor, swiftly followed by her bra.
She stood over him in her school skirt, and knee-high socks, her breasts directly in his face.
He was instantly rock hard as he lifted his hands over them, her nipples hardening at his touch.
He stood, towering over her but he loved leaning down to capture her mouth. Their tongues smashed together as they both fell back onto his bed.
Ron was straddled over her chest, which rose and fell with a wicked smirk on her wet cherry lips.
She unbuckled his trousers, and Ron tugged them off his feet along with his boxer briefs.
His cock now angled at her sternum, she used both her hands to push her tits together, letting her fingers interlock as she brought them forward.
Running her red nails over her creamy skin and along her nipples, it was undeniably fucking sexy.
The blood pumped into his cock faster, and Ron's breath hitched at the sight.
“You have me wrapped around your finger, don’t you?” he asked as she continued pushing her breasts together then letting them fall back down.
“You tell me…” she smiled, lifting her head from his pillows and opening her mouth to let a slutty trail of saliva roll down her tongue and into the cleavage of her chest.
“Fucking hell…..Yes, yes you do,” he breathed louder, the glistening spit running down between the crease he needed to be in.
He set his cock between them, her hands moving back to her breasts making it as tight as possible around him, the pillowy soft sensation enveloping him.
He slid himself back and forth on her skin. It felt fucking magical, like every other part of her.
Her big dark eyes darted up, watching him in his rapture– it turned her on, he knew that about her now.
He moved deeper, sliding his cock faster, and she squeezed herself together harder, her perky pink nipples caught between her index and middle fingers. Even that sight sent him reeling.
But that wasn’t enough for Pansy, of course. She was the fucking devil, and she loved watching him burn.
She opened her mouth and stuck her tongue out, licking at the tip of his cock every time he pushed up.
“You filthy little slut, this is making you soaked, isn’t it?” he moaned each time her tongue flicked at him.
“I’m always wet for you, Weasley,” she said back breathily, and he reached out, one hand still steadying his balance over her, to feel between her sweet thighs.
His fingers dipping into her soaked cunt —she wasn’t lying. This was driving her just as wild as it was him.
He moved himself into a position, using all his core strength to continue thrusting onto her chest. Her tongue still popped over his tip, lingering in her warm mouth sometimes a moment or two longer before pulling back.
He was determined to keep rubbing her clit. He loved the feeling of her arousal on his hands.
He didn’t actually think he’d be able to cum from this, but Pansy must have taken that as some type of challenge.
She was bucking her hips, sometimes so uncontrollably that his fingers slipped into her, and he felt the circles on her clit becoming unstable as the sensation building in his groin was about to send him over the edge.
“Keep doing that,” she moaned, and he pressed thumb into her harder.
“Fuck… Pans… I’m… I’m… where do you want me to cum?” he barely got it out as she was breaking apart underneath him.
“My mouth,” she moaned, and he felt his heart stop.
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
She couldn’t be serious, but he was in no position to ask again. He wanted to feel what it was like, her mouth around his cock as he emptied deep in her throat.
“Pans…” he warned, and she shot up and took his entire shaft far into the back of her throat.
The warmth of her tongue sliding down to the to his hilt as if she was draining him with it, and he completely let himself loose.
“God damn…” he groaned.
It was the only phrase he knew, the only phrase he felt, as his entire body contracted and he came in her mouth, her eyes still fixed on his face as her lips were at his base.
He pulled out slowly, breathing heavily, and watched her swallow, taking a gulp and then licking her lips.
He heard himself groan again louder.
She was too damn hot.
His sheets were tangled, and she had just untucked her hair from her back and rolled over into his arms.
They were panting, still slightly sweating. In these moments, his heart pounded for her rapidly, at her most vulnerable.
“Fuck, I love you,” was all he said as he ran his thumb over her lip and turned toward her.
He did. He fucking loved her. Every damn inch of her. Her wit, her brain, her snobby little attitude, the way she’d snap her fingers together when she laughed, or when she pursed her lips together when she found something interesting. Her perfume, amber, fig, coconut.
He loved every piece of her.
It had been almost two weeks since the blow-up in the library. Hermione hadn’t told anyone about him and Parkinson, clearly, because nobody had asked. He continued to receive sympathetic looks from other classmates and students, even a few comments about hoping he had been doing alright and how he deserved better. He quickly shot those down, he didn’t need pity.
Hermione wasn’t completely wrong; he had been, potentially, hypocritical. He had started sleeping with Pansy in the exact same amount of time that Hermione started up with Malfoy.
But the fact remained the same in his mind: he never lied to her about it. He never had those feelings for Pansy when they dated.
Maybe he had warmed to her, yes, and maybe he felt a pulse of attraction. But then, he wasn’t going to break up with Hermione over it. She could say what she wanted, but she called it quits with him to be with Malfoy. And if she had been honest from the start, he’d feel less betrayed.
Well, would he? Looking back, he probably would have bloody flipped even more than he did that night when he and Malfoy punched each other.
He let out a long huff.
“What’s going on up there?” Pansy rolled over and ran her hand through his hair, her lips close to his ears.
“Do you think I’ve been kind of a prick?” he asked her.
“Do you want my honest opinion?” she laughed, and he let out another sigh.
“I mean, with the whole Malfoy, Hermione thing. She hasn’t told anyone about us, and it’s weird not being friends. We’ve been through this before where we didn’t talk for a while, but this feels different, and I think I may be in the wrong...”
"You’re asking me if you’ve been a prick and that you think you may be in the wrong? Is everything alright Weasley? Have you been confunded?" she teased, her hand intertwining with his as she challenged him with a knowing look.
He ignored the jab “What did you see in Malfoy?” he asked, curious. It was one thing for Hermione to be with Malfoy; he was chalking that up to her cracking a bit after the war. But Parkinson, she’d known Draco for a long time.
Granted, even Ron could see Draco wasn’t as foul as he had been years ago, but Pansy knew him when he was. Hell, Pansy was quite vile herself in their childhood.
If he was going to mend things with Hermione, he needed to understand Malfoy.
“Why? Are you interested?” she smiled, and he rolled his eyes.
“I’m serious... You dated, broke up, and you’re still friends. You both even seem to be okay with the fact you’re shagging people the other one hates,” Ron suggested.
“I don’t hate Granger,” Pansy said “Sure, she’s a know-it-all, and honestly, I find her rather annoying. People say I’m haughty? She’s haughty. But I don’t hate her,” Pansy added quickly.
“As for Draco, well, for a long time, we weren’t friends. I had a crush on him since the first year, and I did anything for his attention. I’m pretty sure it’s the reason I slept with him in the first place. I was desperate to keep him interested. We broke up because, in the end, he didn’t truly have those feelings for me that I thought I had for him. I was furious when I found out he had slept with Alissa Fawley right after we broke up in the sixth year. We had this big blow-out in the Common Room. It took months for us to become friends again.” She paused and glanced out the window at the evening sky. “I didn’t understand what he was going through at home. It wasn’t until we all came back last year that I realized that we were all each other under the Carrows. Now, I look back and laugh at that silly girl, pining for him. I even slept with Adrian Pucey right after to try and make him jealous…. That was a huge bloody mistake; he just spread it around that I was easy. But I couldn’t imagine not having Draco in my life. He’s been a good friend to me, even in the darkest of times he was there. We really were all there for each other, especially this summer,” she reflected.
Ron thought about that. Christ, if Pansy and Draco could figure it out after all that, surely, he and Hermione could. They had only really dated for five months; Pansy and Draco for almost two years.
“Adrian Pucey? Huh... I’ll remember that,” Ron said quickly.
“You’re such a fucking boy, that’s all you got from that?” Pansy rolled her eyes.
“I’m just keeping tabs on men I hate. Who else?” he asked, not sure if she’d actually answer. He had always been curious. It wouldn’t truly matter to him one way or another, but he knew it couldn’t have just been Malfoy.
“Why do you want to know?” she looked at him curiously.
“I just want to know who I’m being compared to,” he smirked.
“Weasley, you’re not being compared to anyone, but if it makes you feel better, it’s been Malfoy, Pucey, a muggle one night this summer after a club —wasn’t memorable, and Oliver Wood,” Pansy finished.
Ron couldn’t believe Oliver Wood made that fucking list.
How in the hell did that happen?
“Oliver Wood? What? When?” he said aghast.
“I knew that one would get you riled up,” she laughed.
“He’s been a big proponent in the Pureblood society circle since the battle, with Puddlemere and the Department of Magical Games and Sports raising funds for his athletic causes. It was one night after the Annual Sports Charity Gala this summer. He was actually the one who sent me my offer to intern at the department after the school year ends,” Pansy said matter of fact, and Ron’s temper grew at the thought that Oliver fucking Wood had slept with Pansy and then offered her a damn job.
“Well, you absolutely can’t work there now,” he shot back.
“Ugh,” she groaned. “I hate that it turns me on when you’re an arrogant and controlling bull,Weasley.” She oozed.
“You think it’s arrogant and controlling of me not wanting you around that scumbag Wood, trying to get his hands all over you again?” Ron shot back as Pansy moved to straddle him.
Fuck, she was distracting.
“Scumbag? Interesting, I thought you Gryffindors all loved him. He’s a war hero as well, you know?” she said back devilishly as she ground herself on top of him.
“Welp, now you’ve made me hate him,” he gripped her thighs and held her body to his waist.
"The only hands I want all over me, Ron, are yours..." Pansy smirked, leaning in to kiss him again before pulling away.
Ron leaned back, a grin spreading across his face as he wrapped his hand around the nape of her neck, flipping her over once more.
"Music to my ears, Parkinson," Ron replied, as he felt himself growing hard again at the thought of her moaning his name.
"I do have some other news that may ease your concerns," Pansy said, running her hand down his chest.
"My only concern right now is if I can hear those little squeals you make when I fuck you," he added and she rolled her eyes.
“Theo has offered to fund my shop. We got on the topic the other day in the library, and he’s looking for some new investment opportunities instead of squandering his inheritance. He's very interested in helping me get started, which would also mean I wouldn't necessarily have to work at the Ministry or ask my mother for anything" Pansy smiled as she revealed the news.
Ron was taken aback, unsure of how to feel about it at first. However, he knew Theo well enough to understand that his motives were genuine and rooted in friendship only. Despite his initial surprise, Ron was happy for Pansy. She deserved this.
"Pans, that's bloody fantastic," Ron exclaimed, pausing to search her eyes. He could see the happiness radiating from within her, and it warmed his heart to see her so elated.
"We're going to look at storefront options in Diagon over Easter, and I... I was hoping you'd join," Pansy said, her tone slightly shy. Ron knew these moments were rare for Pansy, and he was determined not to mess it up.
"Yeah, of course, I'd love to, if you want me there," Ron replied. "I'm probably not much help on the subject of real estate, but I worked with George enough over the summer to understand what sells, and how to market in Diagon. Although, jokes are a bit different than clothes, but still, I'm just glad you asked." He realized he was rambling, but Pansy watched him with a smile in her eyes
“Don’t cum in your trousers over it,” she joked.
"I’m not wearing trousers so I’ll just cum in you instead," Ron pushed back
“Wait…wait,” she stopped and looked at him right as he centered his cock in her still-soaked pussy. Surprising himself at his ability to recover so quickly.
“Bloody hell.. you’re killing me” he groaned.
"Did you get the timing and date for next week’s hunt from McGonagall?" Pansy asked, her voice barely above a whisper as Ron edged into her slowly, teasingly breaking in the tip.
"Tuesday, 8 PM," Ron grunted, as he thrust into her, giving in to the sensation of being inside her.
"Now let me shag you," he groaned.
Harry choked, he struggled with the inhale, it felt like he was coughing up a lung.
“Don’t inhale so much next time, slow, long drags,” Theo coached.
They lounged casually, shirtless in Theo’s room, sharing a joint in his bed. The room was filled with the soft sound of music from Theo’s record player, the light casting a warm glow, as it always did, and the air held the mix of Theo’s distinct cologne and pot.
"Where do you get this stuff anyway, isn’t this muggle?" Harry asked, his throat feeling sore from the harshness of the smoke.
"Longbottom, he grows it. It's a mix of muggle marijuana and gillyweed," Theo said casually, taking another puff.
"You get joints from Neville?" Harry asked in shock.
"Actually, I get them from Greengrass who gets them from Longbottom," Theo corrected.
"I had no idea," Harry said, feeling the relaxation sinking in.
"Wow, what a shock," Theo chuckled, and Harry felt himself flush at the comment, knowing it was a fair jab.
"Are you alright... with what just happened?" Theo asked again tentatively.
After the library, after the argument with Ginny, and after Hermione, Harry found solace in Theo. And lately, he had been pushing his sexual limitations. Theo mentioned to Harry last week that he was a bottom, but Harry had no bloody idea what that meant until twenty minutes ago.
Did that mean Harry was a top? He didn’t get the verbiage yet. He felt like he was juggling six balls at once, not literally. But Theo had made him relax.
He had tried to reach out to Hermione multiple times, and he knew she’d come around eventually. He would need to grovel a little. He still felt awful about what happened the night of the gala and the aftermath.
He wasn’t so oblivious to the jeers, the shitty insults, and the quips that were aimed her way. Anytime Harry heard harsh comments, he’d round back on them furiously, he’d defend her regardless if she was speaking to him. He had even told Seamus and Dean to fuck off about it.
"Yeah... it felt, well, it felt fucking great for me... I’m sorry if it wasn’t for you. I... uh... well, you know it was my first time doing that, with a... with."
"With a man, Potter. Yes, I am aware. This is why I’m asking if you’re comfortable," Theo said kindly. "And don’t worry, it felt great," he added reassuringly.
"I was just worried, knowing you’re more experienced than me in that area," Harry pressed, feeling slightly embarrassed.
"Can I pry?" Theo continued, as haziness fell over Harry’s eyes.
"Even if I said no, would it matter?" Harry laughed.
"How did that compare to Red?" he asked casually, and Harry’s internal interest heightened at the probe about his and Ginny’s sex life.
"Ahh…different, and to be honest, I can’t say I like the sensation of one better than the other," Harry answered honestly.
"Alright, different question, did you like shagging her?" Theo asked again.
"Yeah, I did. I used to love the way Ginny’s tits bounced, how soft they were, and the feel of her around my cock. I liked watching myself slide in and out of her too, but I also loved watching myself do that to you, and the way your lips feel, your body feels… it’s very confusing for me. Am I gay, or is it just you I’m gay for?" he chuckled to himself, and he meant it.
He was fucking confused. Sex with Theo was fucking hot, and Harry bloody loved every second of it.
"It sounds like you're bisexual. Because when I slept with Daphne, I didn’t enjoy any of those things. Yes, the sensation was pleasant, but I didn’t thoroughly enjoy her body or get turned on by it, so that helps answer my question about you," Theo smirked as he rolled over to face Harry.
"Whether or not I’m gay or bisexual? I guess bisexual would make the most sense," Harry agreed, though it didn’t feel that simple to him.
“What about other men? Weasley?” Theo questioned.
“Absolutely fucking not, never a day in my life have I had a thought about Ron that way,” Harry scoffed.
“… Granger?” Theo questioned.
“Again, never, literally never,” Harry repeated.
“Malfoy?” Theo asked, a little hint of insincerity in his tone which caught Harry off guard.
“Gods no, I don’t get the hype around Draco. Sure, even I’m not so oblivious to see he’s an attractive bloke, but way too damned brooding,” Harry said, maybe the joint made him too relaxed, and Theo laughed.
“Parkinson?” Theo asked again.
“Are you just naming what friends of yours that you think I think are hot?” Harry laughed, and Theo just smiled and clicked his tongue in agreement.
“Parkinson could get it,” Harry said, a little jokingly and a little not.
He understood Ron in that aspect. Maybe Harry was too high; he felt he was being too honest, and Theo snorted in laughter.
“That is a bloody wild thing to say, Potter. If I wasn’t so confident in myself, it might have even hurt my feelings,” Theo quipped.
Harry knew something so superficial could never hurt Theo’s feelings. He didn’t care much about looks or attractiveness; that wasn’t his type of jealousy. His hurt came from doubt on his character, and what Harry thought of him as a person.
Harry hadn’t brought up what he had found out the night of the Gala from Kingsley. He kept meaning to, but every time he did, he didn’t know if he wanted to see the hurt on Theo’s face like he did each time they went on a Hunt when Theo would reluctantly show another part of himself to Harry.
“Good god, please don’t tell anyone I said that,” Harry snorted back as Theo laughed even harder. Harry couldn’t help it; everything felt so funny to him.
“Yeah, I’m not going to promise that,” Theo said, stifling his laughs and wiping a tear from his eye.
“Alright, what about my friends... any of them caught your eye before?” Harry asked.
“Oh, all two of them?” Theo shot back.
“That’s not fair, I have more friends than just Ron and Hermione... Luna, Neville, Seamus, Dean, George, Ernie?” Harry listed off the people he was friendly with.
Theo may have had a point; he had been lacking in the being-a-good-friend department this year, especially to Luna and Neville.
“I used to have a thing for the twins. I’ve always had an affliction for funny men,” Theo smirked.
“Do you think I’m funny then?” Harry jumped on it, not wanting to think of Fred right now.
“Ah, in your sassy ‘I’m the Chosen One’ kind of way,” Theo added with a smirk.
“I am, you know, the Chosen One,” Harry leaned in, and Theo pressed his lips together. Harry grabbed the bottom of Theo’s lip with his teeth.
“I got this today,” Theo broke away and rolled over, his long arm grabbing at a parchment on his bedside table.
“Our next hunt, we’re scheduled for Monday, 8:00 PM. What do you think they’ll throw at us this time?” he said casually, but he gulped, his nonchalance mask almost slipping off.
“I’ve already been up against a troll, a three-headed dog, a werewolf, dementors, a dragon, merpeople, a giant spider, Devil's Snare, and Voldemort, so I feel like at this point I could pretty much take on anything,” Harry said back confidently.
“What a fucking Chosen One kind of answer, and also, what I secretly hoped for when we were partnered,” Theo said lightly. “We’re currently just a few minutes behind Granger and Malfoy. If we keep up this pace, we’ll likely end up in the final five. And then what? What if we win?” Theo asked.
“We need to agree on what we want to use the Chalice for. You’ve never really told me what you want,” Harry said quickly.
“What do you want?” Theo asked, and Harry panicked.
Just last week, he had the madness of wanting to rewrite the entire wizarding world and its laws due to being heartbroken over hearing what Theo and Draco had to do last summer on Ministry orders. But he couldn’t tell Theo that, not now.
“Honestly, there are a few things I’d like to try to change in our laws…” Harry beat around the bush, he was getting good at doing that lately.
“Change our laws? Potter, this is supposed to be indulgent, something you can’t actually accomplish without it. You’ll be able to change laws in half a year once you kick Dalwish out of his spot as head of a department; everyone knows he’s a placeholder,” Theo said suspiciously.
“Then what do you want it for?”
“I’d rid myself of this,” Theo said, holding up his arm where his Dark Mark was, “And maybe a few of these,” Theo then tapped his finger to the side of his head.
“There isn’t a way of doing that without the Chalice?” Harry questioned.
“Malfoy and I have tried a few different options in regards to our Dark Marks, but they’ll be with us forever, and no Healer will come within ten feet of the mess that’s in this brain, so rather than constantly pushing it all down, why not rid myself of it completely,” Theo added callously.
“The entire purpose of this project isn’t to erase our past, but to find a way to heal and move forward,” Harry found himself echoing the Ministry’s rhetoric, even as he questioned its sincerity.
“Are you healed, Potter? Have you truly moved on? Have you allowed yourself to feel the depths of your grief?” Theo’s inquiry was piercing, and Harry met his eyes with caution, feeling the weight of unspoken emotions pressing against him.
He hadn’t fully healed, hadn’t truly processed his grief, but he wasn’t ready to erase it all either. He wished he felt something more than the intense heat whenever he was with Theo.
“What are you truly trying to escape from, Theo? What is it that you’re actually wanting to forget?” Harry asked, questioningly, would Theo tell him on his own?
“It’s not just my past I’m protecting, Potter,” Theo’s expression darkened suddenly, sending a shiver down Harry’s spine.
It reminded him of the haunting visage he had glimpsed in the Mirror, a side of Theo he hadn’t fully comprehended.
Harry realized he hadn’t actually faced his own demons yet. In the first task they cheated, the second delved into Theo’s memories, and the third projected an alternate future in which Harry had died.
He had been remarkably fortunate, perhaps too much so. Was this all part of Kingsley’s plan? Had he orchestrated events to ensure Harry emerged unscathed, mentally primed to assume the role of a loyal lieutenant in his government?
Harry resolved to confront his innermost fears head-on, next week during their fourth hunt. He would push himself to confront the darkest corners of his psyche, hoping to break down the barriers between him and Theo, and ultimately showing Theo, his truth was nothing to be scared of.
Notes:
Alrighttt.... I love a good dialogue filler chapter as you know by now so the next few chapters will be Hunt # 4 - will our favorite partners all be able to keep in the top five to compete in the final?! Will any of them NOT make the cut?
The next chapter will be posted by Ginny & Blaise & Harry & Theo, after that Draco/Hermione and Ron/Pansy!
Chapter 46: Past, Present, A Real Future
Chapter Text
The fourth hunt had come too quickly for Ginny in her opinion; she wasn't sure if she was ready. She and Blaise sat at the third spot. In reality, they were only minutes away from the top spot, but when push came to shove, that time felt like hours.
Ginny had brought Blaise over to The Burrow for dinner last weekend. Her father did his best to be warm and polite, and really, so did her mother. She was sure that Blaise hadn’t noticed much of the reserved nature of her parents that evening, but she did. She knew what her parents were like when Hermione and Harry had come to visit. Blaise's dinner had been reminiscent of the summer of Phlegm.
Honestly, the warmest person and the most engaging had been surprisingly, Fleur. Bill had to work, so she brought over baby Victoire, and George was busy with the shop, so it had just been herself, Blaise, her parents, Fleur, Victoire, and Percy. Percy seemed to ask a lot of questions, but he was his usual haughty self; warmth was never something she associated with Percy.
He had asked a lot about the Unity Project, and their thoughts, and oddly, he seemed to ask a lot about Hermione and Malfoy, a subject that her dad continually tried to shut down.
Blaise was in Malfoy’s room, his usual haunt in the evenings, playing Wizarding Chess or Exploding Snap. At least, that’s what he told Ginny. She always liked to imagine them sitting there gossiping and flipping through Witch Weekly. She would have asked him to meet her at their spot, but instead, she figured she’d just walk with him. For some reason, her nerves were getting the best of her tonight.
“Are you ready?” Ginny asked politely as Draco opened the door to his room after she knocked. Blaise was just getting up from the desk, where a chess set lay half-played, and Theo lounged back on the chaise, smiling up at her.
“Best of luck to you two, but not too much luck. I like my second spot just as it is,” Theo smirked, and Blaise slapped his foot as he walked by.
“Save the trash talk until after tomorrow night, Nott,” Blaise quipped.
They walked quickly out of the Common Room. A few other partners had already gone, but she never knew their times. The board only ever showed the top five, but Padma and Abby seemed to have dropped off.
“You seem nervous, why?” Blaise asked as they walked. It was almost 8:00 PM.
“It’s odd. Now that this is the make or break for the final five, I am realizing how desperate I am to win,” Ginny answered honestly.
“Hey,” Blaise said, turning to her. “We’re great together, and I don’t just mean that now. We were great at the beginning of this, and we’ll be fucking great at the end of this. Alright?” he finished as the piece of paper in his hands erupted in the foreboding flames, accompanied by the obsidian writing.
“In fire's embrace, this domain was claimed,
Where dissent thrives and renewal's named.
Two paths unfold within this realm's domain,
One seeks the lost, the other, the gained.
To reunite once more, in fate's refrain,
These paths converge, to find each other again.”
Ginny’s heart was pounding so avidly that it was the only thing she could hear as she and Blaise took a moment to re-read. She was stuck on that first sentence.
From their past three hunts, the first sentence usually told them where to start, and then the finishing sentences would tell them what they were up against. From this clue, Ginny had the chilling thought that they’d have to separate at some point.
“In fire's embrace, this domain was claimed…” Ginny repeated out loud
“Blaise, I think we need to go to the Room of Requirement” Ginny finally let herself say it out loud.
It had to be. Blaise gave her a cold look, knowing that if she were right, the hunt would mean that Hermione, Ron, Draco, and Harry had demons to face.
“I didn’t think it had recovered after the battle..” Blaise said quietly, almost hopeful.
“My parents always said there is magic in these walls, that I don’t think we’ll ever truly grasp,” Ginny finished as she took the first step toward the staircase. They were just a few floors down; they could get up there within minutes.
“You know how to get in?” he asked again as they were running up the staircase.
“It’s been almost a year, but yeah, I think I’ll be able to do it,” Ginny said determinedly.
She wasn’t sure if the room would remember what it needed to be opened, but Ginny knew exactly what she needed from the room. If the core of its magic was the same, then she knew she’d be able to crack open that doorway once again.
She reached the landing, the one she had come to hundreds of times in her fourth year during Umbridge's reign, and her sixth year during the Carrows. Neville had conquered this room last year before Ginny had fled, it was where they held Dumbledore’s Army meetings while Harry, Ron, and Hermione were off hunting Horcruxes. She gripped Blaise’s hand, closed her eyes, and opened her mind.
“Two paths unfold in this realm’s domain. I need to find out my way back,” it was the only thing she repeated, an internal chant.
“Ginevra,” Blaise said quietly as she opened her eyes and the familiar door had appeared in front of them, a sense of uneasy nostalgia washing over her.
Blaise moved forward first, then Ginny was inside the room, the room she had hoped she’d never need to see again, but there it stood looming over her.
Instead of mounds of hidden objects from students, it appeared to be a maze of towering stacks of books, old ones, the smell of mold and parchment hitting her nose.
Standing at the entrance to the room, Ginny knew she had been right. There were two entrances to the maze, one that seemed to go to the right, and one that went to the left.
“Left or right?” she asked Blaise hesitantly, and he looked as if he didn’t want to answer.
“Is there no way we are wrong? That we should pick one together?” he asked reluctantly.
“I don’t think so,” Ginny smiled over at him, her entire heart with him.
He nodded, “Left.”
He squeezed her hand one last time before swiftly entering the shadowy entrance, as if lingering would weaken his resolve.
Ginny proceeded to the right entrance. She felt completely enveloped by darkness, her footsteps echoing and then fading away as she navigated the maze. The pungent smell of books surrounded her, and a creeping sense of panic began to set in as she felt like she was going in circles with no progress.
Ginny felt anger and anxiety coursing through.
Fuck. What awaited her this time? More memories? More visions? The uncertainty gnawed at her, but she knew she had to find Blaise.
She turned a corner and encountered a familiar face leaning against a shelf, smiling. Was it an apparition? It couldn't be a ghost.
Ginny felt a surge of emotions at the sight of her brother, tears streaming down her cheeks as she whispered his name. Fred leaned against the shelf, wearing his trademark grin.
“Fred?” Ginny said in a whisper, her heart pounding.
“Ginny,” he replied with a smirk, turning to face her.
She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Was this truly Fred, or just some figment of her imagination? Had she gone mad? Was this a trick?
“What is this?” she stuttered, her voice trembling.
“I’m not sure. This isn’t exactly my ideal afterlife, now is it, stuck here amongst stacks of old books?” Fred smirked.
“I don’t understand why you’re here,” she continued.
“Why are you here?” he pressed, raising his eyebrows in unison.
“Ahhh, it’s the Unity Project, a Scavenger Hunt. My partner... Blaise Zabini, we need to find each other to win,” Ginny explained quickly, trying to make sense of the situation.
“Zabini? The snake? The only damn decent Chaser on Slytherin?” Fred quipped casually as if they were having a normal conversation over dinner rather than encountering each other as a ghostly apparition in the depths of a maze within the castle where he gave his life.
“Yeah, he’s my boyfriend,” she replied, her mind still reeling from the shock.
“Boyfriend? What does that make him now? Number four?” Fred smirked. “Potter wasn’t good enough anymore? Wasn’t cutting it?” he continued, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “I never saw that lasting long anyway,” he finished
“Me and Harry?” she questioned
“Don’t get me wrong, love the bloke like a brother, but Gin, you’re too spirited, too wild. That’s why you’re my favorite sister,” Fred remarked
“I’m your only sister,” Ginny pushed back
"Right, well, if this is some Scavenger Hunt, I must be here to show you the right way then," Fred continued, his smirk never leaving his face.
"I don’t want to leave now, I don’t want to leave you," she said, tears still in her eyes.
"Don’t worry about me, I’m fine. I check in every once in a while. Can’t believe George started on with Angelina, the bloody git. I miss him, though. It’s not as fun in the afterlife without him," Fred joked
“I think he feels the same about life without you…. we all do,” she said, her voice cracking. “Mum’s still heartbroken, and I don’t think I’m making it any easier on her, especially this year with Blaise and Harry..” she continued.
“Mum’s greatest fear actually came true Ginny, don’t take it to heart. We all know what she’s like, but when it comes to us, she’ll love you as long as you’re happy.. choose to be happy, no matter what, alright? Life’s too short.. I should know,” he smiled, and just as she went to walk toward him, he vanished like mist in the morning, leaving a long direct pathway instead, one she hadn't noticed before.
She felt herself gasp, trying to reclaim her breath and wipe away the tears. It took every muscle in her body to move forward, stifling her sadness as she continued.
It was only about thirty feet before she felt the atmosphere shift. She wasn’t surrounded by books anymore; she was surrounded by picture frames, large ones like the portraits in the halls, all pictures of her.
The first one was a moving photo of herself and Hermione. It looked like summer; they were outside Hogwarts, swaying back and forth, like they’d finished, finally finished school. Ginny couldn’t help by smile, after everything they had been through in these halls, they had made it.
She moved forward, and the next frame she noticed was herself and Harry. They were kissing. It wasn’t a photo she recognized; Harry had scruff on his jaw, and Ginny’s hair was shorter. Harry had on Auror robes.
"What the fuck was this?" She didn’t want that. Did she? She didn’t want to be kissing Harry again. She felt the panic rise in her chest and she moved again.
Being struck with another picture staring back at her, surrounding her mind. Ginny in a long white dress, Harry in dress robes with Ron and Hermione on either side of them.
They were married?
Ginny stood staring, Harry was smiling and kissing her cheek, and Hermione and Ron both with massive grins.
She felt the panic ripple over her body again. Was this the future? If it was, it felt wrong. It wasn’t what she wanted. A betrayal of everything she had fought for throughout the year.
She couldn't bear the thought of reverting to the same path she had walked before, of undoing all the growth and self-discovery she had worked so hard to achieve.
She moved again, trying to escape, and there was another photo. This time it was her, surrounded by dark-haired children. Her smile was weak; she looked... unhappy. Harry sat on the opposite side, a dull smile across his face as well, the children bouncing around on them.
Ginny barely recognized herself, and once she did, she didn’t like who she saw: a withered spirit-looking woman staring back.
Ginny ran, her feet moving faster than her body as the pictures kept changing, different variations of her life with Harry flashing before her eyes. Living in Grimmauld Place, bringing their kids to Kings Cross, nights alone as Harry worked late.
She had never become a professional Quidditch player, she never traveled, the spark completely gone from her eye as she kept running, finally stopping to catch her breath.
She screamed, “BLAISE!” Huffing, she opened her eyes, and there was another photo staring back at her.
This time, her heart lifted, and she could finally breathe fresh air.
It was a photo of her and Blaise, sitting in what looked like an estate lawn, by a pool, with large glasses of champagne Ginny had a big smile as they were in bathing suits, his arm wrapped around hers.
As she moved, another photo showed Ginny zooming on a broom, her hair sleeked back in the wind and she was wearing a Holyhead Harpy uniform, her eyes determined. Ginny felt her breath catch as she stared, then moved again, knowing she needed to keep going to find Blaise.
In another photo, she was standing in a white dress, a vineyard in the background. She looked slightly older, in her late twenties, maybe?
Ron and Draco stood on one side of Zabini, Ron even looked like he wasn’t forcing a smile, that it was genuine. Parkinson and Hermione were on the other side, sharing a laugh. It was incredible to see.
She moved again, and it was Blaise and her on a balcony, looking over the Mediterranean, a small child with them, holding up a wizarding newspaper with her face on it, "Captain." She felt her heart swell. In this life, in this future, she looked happy, she had her sparkle.
At last, there she was - standing upon a white sand beach, her wavy red hair cascading around her shoulders, a gentle smile gracing her lips. She wore a white bathing suit with a subtle pinkish hue wrap waving in the wind, she recognized the pose instantly, recalling its inspiration: The Birth of Venus.
She felt herself move forward, wanting to feel the photo, wanting to see who was on the opposite side of the camera. She knew, deep down, who it would have been.
Her hand went toward the frame, but it immediately fell through, and she was captured into heavy, strong arms. She felt her body lifted, her mind easing, and she knew this was exactly where she was supposed to be.
Ginny made her choice: she was choosing happiness. And her happiness was herself, but not just herself—herself with him.
“I got you; I got you!” he said quickly as she pawed at his chest, looking back up into his dark eyes.
She had found him again, Blaise.
“I love you,” she breathed, and she grabbed the back of his neck the same way she did back in September after the first hunt, after the first time he had caught her fall.
“I've loved you for a very long time. I just had to wait longer for you to love me back,” Blaise whispered, his voice heavy. “Wait, and hope…” he added, before leaning down to capture her lips.
The bookcases surrounding them all began to slam down hard into the ground, disappearing one by one as dust erupted from the floor and the room shook. The door was once again visible in the distance, a burning fire igniting beneath their feet.
“31 minutes and 12 seconds.”
Ginny and Blaise had fallen off the standings, with Pansy and Ron taking the third spot, and Neville and Daphne Greengrass edging into the top five.
Blaise and Ginny had kept quiet about what their time had been, being one of the first pairs to go.
Well, Ginny kept quiet on a lot of things; they hadn’t actually been on speaking terms since the incident in the library.
Harry had been in the Common Room with Ron, finishing up his papers for DADA, before he packed up to meet Theo at their usual spot. Harry hadn’t been able to tell Ron yet about Theo, and he wasn’t sure why.
Was he concerned about what Ron might think about Harry having it on with Nott? Ron had supported him through pretty much everything; he couldn’t imagine that he’d be upset or weirded out. But every time it was on the tip of his tongue, he backed out, not ready to let anyone else in.
This hunt was important to him; they needed to secure their spot in the top five. He worried about what it would be like to compete at the same time as the remaining teams, especially if ended up being Ginny, Ron, and Hermione.
He didn’t have that experience during the Tri-Wizard Tournament; he didn’t speak to Krum much, or Fleur for that matter, and it had taken him a little while to warm up to Cedric. So, he had looked at them as competitors, but now, he’d be competing against friends, it just felt different.
“31 minutes, Potter,” Theo said as Harry rounded the corner, a smile lighting up his face as he clutched the familiar roll of parchment.
“That’s Zabini’s and Ginny’s time? He told you?” Harry questioned, feeling a knot of anxiety forming in his stomach.
“He lost a bet, so he had to,” Theo joked, but Harry couldn’t help but feel more uneasy now that he knew the exact time.
“Right..” Harry huffed.
“You’re not worried, are you?” Theo questioned searching his face, moving to grip Harry’s hand in his.
“Performance anxiety,” Harry joked, and Theo laughed.
“You hide it well,” Theo winked as the parchment erupted into the air.
“In fire's embrace, this domain was claimed,
Where dissent thrives and renewal's named.
Two paths unfold within this realm's domain,
One seeks the lost, the other, the gained.
To reunite once more, in fate's refrain,
These paths converge, to find each other again.”
Harry felt his body seize, as soon as his eyes rolled over the first sentence, he knew exactly where they needed to go.
“The Room of Requirement….” Harry looked at Theo, and Theo stared back at him, searching Harry’s face.
“It can’t be anything else?” Theo asked again, and Harry shook his head.
“Dissent thrives and renewals named, Dumbledore’s Army... it has to be the Room of Requirement,”
“You can still get in?” Theo asked.
“Maybe…” Harry looked back toward him; his stomach tight at the thought of what it might look like inside the room.
The last vision he had was Draco on the back of his broom, engulfed in flames. Would the room be charred ash? Or would it look as if nothing had been touched?
“Lead the way,” Theo stood aside, and Harry moved toward the staircase quickly. They were a few floors down, but both boys knew the time disadvantage and raced up the steps, determined to beat thirty minutes whether they had said it out loud or not.
Harry stood where he had stood countless times before. At one point, he thought he had truly mastered and understood the room, until Draco, until he couldn’t breach the walls in sixth year.
Harry closed his eyes and thought hard, pushing the thoughts of the flames, Goyle, and Crabbe's screams out from his mind. He opened his eyes.
Theo stood, staring between Harry and the wall, the door not appearing.
“We’re in the right place?” Theo questioned.
“Yes,” Harry said through annoyance. It felt like every time he was supposed to be in control in front of Theo, he came off like a complete moron, especially in these hunts.
“I just need to focus on what I need from the room, but all I can see currently is the flames,” Harry said aloud, and Theo squeezed his arm. “But that’s not even the worst Harry Potter has been up against, has it?” he smirked, and for some reason, the light joke, the smirk, it eased the tension.
Harry nodded, closing his eyes again, letting his mind be completely open.
“I need to complete this scavenger hunt, I need to get inside, where two paths unfold, to find my way back,” he repeated the mantra.
Harry felt Theo loosen his grip, and when he opened his eyes again, the door had appeared - a cruel familiarity.
Harry moved toward the door, Theo trailing behind, looking around the corridor as they disappeared into the room.
It was as if he was transported back to that fateful night in June, the castle walls reverberating with enchantments trying to break down its defenses, the screams, the war cries, and the adrenaline.
It was the first time he had felt it, and the flood of emotions was so powerful Harry started choking. The smell in the room was similar, musty, and old, he had wished for the ash, hoped for ash.
He couldn’t catch his breath as it felt like the looming stacks of the maze-like bookcases in front of him were crushing down on his chest, tears erupting from his eye sockets. The pain consumed him whole.
“Woah…woah.. Potter.. just let yourself feel it, don’t resist,” Theo grabbed at his arms, steadying him as the tidal wave crashed over him. Harry had been desperate to feel something, anything for months, but the intensity was overwhelming.
Harry struggled to control his breathing, Theo enveloped him in a tight hug, initially exacerbating his sense of suffocation. Harry's instinct was to push away, but gradually, he found himself surrendering to the embrace. Theo held him close, the tension in Harry's body began to melt away, his racing pulse gradually slowing.
"Fuck.. I... I didn't anticipate... I didn't expect to react that way," Harry wheezed, finally regaining his voice as Theo let go of him gently, their eyes locking in mutual understanding.
"Your mind is no longer holding back its memories," Theo responded softly, his hand comforting as it ran through Harry's hair, both of them turning their attention towards the labyrinth of bookshelves ahead.
"I think we should split up. I'll head left, and you take the right. You’ll be fine?" Theo asked as Harry composed himself, inhaling deeply and steadying his stance at the entrance to the books on the right.
"I’ll be fine. After all, I am the chosen one," Harry quipped lightly, allowing himself a moment of levity to ease Theo's worry. Theo smirked and nodded, as they both ventured into the labyrinth ahead.
From the clue given, they would need to find their way back to one another. It was slightly more reassuring than having to find the Triwizard Cup, and what he encountered in that maze, but he highly doubted they would have put a sphinx in the Room of Requirement—or at least, he hoped not.
Even though Harry could see the faint moonlight from the windows above, walking through the maze eerily felt like traversing a tunnel, claustrophobic and dank. He tried to favor left turns as much as possible, hoping it would lead him closer to Theo, but it seemed like he was only circling back on himself.
Frustration boiled within him—was this really the hunt? Would he just continue circling until someone was found?
He rounded yet another left corner, and his heart stopped for the second time that evening.
“I wondered when I’d be seeing you, it took you a while to find me,” Sirius Black stood translucent, perched against the shelves, reminiscent of that night Harry walked to his death, Resurrection Stone in hand. But how had the Ministry done this?
“Sirius” Harry smiled and walked closer, realizing that they wouldn’t be able to embrace.
“How have you been, Harry? It seems like life still isn’t any easier?” Sirius smirked, his knowing smirk, and for once he looked healthy, happy like he had in those photos of his dad and Lupin all those years ago.
“Different challenges is all,” Harry smiled.
“Ah, of course, you wouldn’t tell me anyway. Never wanted me to worry,” Sirius pushed.
“I don’t understand, why are you here? Is this part of the puzzle?” Harry questioned, not wanting to give up this time with Sirius.
But if Harry had met a ghost on his way to the end, so would Theo, and that thought hit him hard.
“I assume I’m to put you on the right path as if I ever did in life,” Sirius joked.
“You did more for me than you realize,” Harry smiled to himself softly, understanding he was only talking to a mirage of the person Sirius had been.
“You’re looking for Theodore Nott?” Sirius questioned again, and Harry looked up quickly at the sound of his name, nodding back quickly.
“Don’t let yourself be scared away from this, Harry. I never told you, but I was in love once, and I lost it. I was young, reckless, and stupid, and even though we remained dear friends, that flame never died for me, even after all those years,” Sirius continued.
“Who was it?” Harry questioned.
He had never known Sirius to talk about anyone that way.
“It doesn’t matter now. We couldn’t be together in life or death. Don’t make the same mistakes as I, Harry,” Sirius said quietly.
Harry felt the stab of truth. Sirius had spent half his life behind bars of some kind before his death, not truly living for himself. Harry had come so close to understanding that before he defeated Voldemort.
He was given the chance to live the life that his parents didn’t, that Sirius didn’t, that Lupin and Tonks, Fred, Colin, Lavender, and so many others didn’t. He wouldn’t squander it by feeling empty.
Harry looked back at the face of the father figure he loved, that he cherished, that he had blamed himself for his death for so long, and he let it all go. Letting him go.
“I’m going to be alright. You all don’t have to worry about me anymore,” he tried to say reassuringly, and Sirius just laughed.
“We’ll always worry about you,” Sirius finished with kind eyes, and the apparition vanished, leaving a clear path where he had just stood. Harry knew it was where he needed to go, moving faster, knowing that he needed to find Theo.
Harry continued to walk, the atmosphere changing, towering picture frames encircling him from every angle. Harry felt uncomfortable as the first photo raced into view: him in Auror robes, with Ginny beside him.
Her hair was shorter, and she smiled, a dull smile playing on both their lips. Harry was confused. Had they made up? Were they finally friends again?
Harry took another step, and the next frame showed himself slightly older, with more stubble, standing and kissing Ginny at an altar. They looked happy. He looked happy. It was so strange.
What was this? Was this Sirius’s way of telling him he should patch things up with her? Should he try to reconnect? It didn’t feel right, but the photos—they were too real.
He had always assumed he would marry Ginny, officially becoming a part of the Weasley family. Ron would be his brother-in-law, and Arthur and Molly his parents-in-law. He had wanted it for so long that he hadn’t stopped to think whether it was Ginny he truly wanted or the family he never had.
Moving again, he saw a photo of himself beside a very unhappy-looking Ginny. They were surrounded by kids, but instead of the overjoyed faces he always saw in the Weasley family portraits, they both looked broken as if the light had gone from their eyes.
Was this what his life had in store for him? In another photo in a dimly lit pub, Harry and Ron sat together, their expressions worn and heavy with the weight of years.
They looked miserable as if the burdens of life had taken their toll. Harry couldn't help but wonder, was this what he had fought for? Was this bleak existence to be his future?
He moved again, and this time he found another photo. Harry looked slightly older than he was now. It was himself, Theo, Ron, Zabini, and Malfoy.
Harry stopped, staring at the photo with wide, disbelieving eyes. It looked like they were all at The Leaky Cauldron, drinking. Ron, Malfoy, and Harry wore Auror robes, while Theo and Zabini were in suits. They were laughing, drinking, almost friends?
Harry continued slowly down the pathway, his eye landed on another image. Harry was holding up a pint of butterbeer while Theo had his arms wrapped around Harry's waist. It appeared to be taken in someone's home, with a large sign reading "Congratulations" hanging overhead.
Confusion flickered in Harry’s mind.
His breath caught in his throat at the sight of another unexpected image. In this one, he stood alongside Theo, Malfoy, and Hermione. Hermione was wearing all white, while Draco wore elegant dress robes. But what captured Harry's attention the most was Theo's gesture—he was gently grabbing Harry's face, pulling him into a kiss behind the backs of Hermione and Draco, who stood beside them.
Both Harry and Theo radiated genuine happiness, their usual dynamics momentarily forgotten as they shared a moment of affection in front of their friends.
Harry thought back to the clue, the two paths crossed his mind once more, dividing his life. Initially, they were just part of the hunt, but now he grasped their significance.
There are two paths you can take, two roads. There's always time to change the road you're on.
Harry knew which road he wanted to take. He wanted to see Theo's smile, to experience the happiness they shared in the photo in front of him. Determined, he approached the picture frame, his desire for that life burning within him.
Harry's hand made contact with the frame, another hand shot through from the opposite side, clasping Harry's fingers with his. Without needing to see a face or a body, Harry knew whose hands they were by touch alone. It was Theo.
He squeezed Theo's hand tightly, feeling a rush of warmth and reassurance flood his senses. It was as if they were connected by a tether pulling them together. A thought flitted through Harry's mind, and a pang of concern crept in. If the Ministry was orchestrating this hunt, did that mean Kingsley and the Unspeakables knew about the depth in which Harry cared for Theo? Or were they simply employing magic beyond their comprehension, the truth being known to only the partners?
“It took you long enough” Theo's teasing quip greeted Harry as the frames dissolved, revealing Theo with a familiar smile, like the one he saw in the photo.
“I want to feel every fucking moment with you, to truly live. We can face this shit together.” Harry burst out uncontrollably.
Theo's expression transformed, a wide grin spreading across his face, unlike anything Harry had seen before.
"What are you saying Potter?" he questioned, the stacks of books around them collapsing like a cascade of dominoes.
The room emptied, leaving only the moonlight streaming through the windows and the distant door, now seeming miles away. A fiery message appeared on the ground.
“31 minutes and 48 seconds.”
Chapter 47: The Last Left
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“How was it last night?” Ron asked tentatively as Harry threw himself onto the Common Room couch beside him, stretching out and looking exhausted.
“Ahh, it’s not the worst one, honestly. Just a bit of a mind fuck,” Harry huffed, and Ron glanced at the clock. He had about twenty minutes before his fourth hunt.
“So just like every other one?” Ron laughed. "Are you going to tell me your time?" he prodded, knowing it was likely a hard no.
“Nahh... you’ll have to wait and see,” Harry smirked back.
With only seven partners having gone so far, both Harry and Theo and Ginny and Blaise fell off the top five board.
“Right... the competition finally starting to sink in?” Ron quipped, and Harry nodded tiredly, taking off his glasses to rub his eyes.
“I was hoping I could talk to you in the morning. There’s been something I’ve been meaning to tell you,” Harry said quietly. Ron was slightly shocked and slightly anxious.
Was this Harry’s way of trying to throw him off his game? What more could Harry possibly need to tell him, that he didn’t already know?
“Fucking hell, don’t tell me you’re also dating Malfoy,” Ron joked, though it was half-hearted. Harry sat up and turned to look at him. “Well, no, but…” He was immediately cut off by the swing of the common room door as Hermione and Draco walked in.
Hermione was smiling at him, laughing slightly as if Malfoy could ever have a sense of humor to make anyone laugh.
“Alright, Hermione?” Harry said, sitting up quickly, clearly attempting to make amends.
“Hi Harry,” she nodded coldly, and Draco threw his arm around her shoulder as they strode toward his room. Ron let out a disgusted huff.
“Still not even talking to you yet then?” Ron asked as Hermione and Draco disappeared into his room, Draco giving Ron a smug smile as he closed the door.
Fucking prick. Ron rolled his eyes and turned back to Harry.
“Are you just going to sit here all night, or are you going to help me win this next hunt?” Pansy’s voice punched through the air; he hadn’t even seen her leave her room. He couldn’t help but smile at her snobby little retort, one hand on her hip.
“Chat later then, Harry?” Ron said quietly as he stood up to walk toward Pansy. Harry nodded, and without even thinking, Ron wrapped both his arms around her waist and hoisted her body over his shoulder as she let out a startled scream.
“Weasley, what the bloody hell are you doing? Put me down!” Pansy protested weakly as Ron laughed, realizing that most of the common room had turned to look at the commotion.
“Let’s go win this thing, Parkinson,” Ron said, still carrying Pansy over his shoulder as he walked down the corridor, letting the common room door bang shut behind them.
“Ron, you’re such a damn git.. have you lost your mind?” Pansy pushed again as he finally set her down at the end of the hall.
“Nobody is going to say anything, Pans... it’s not like I snogged you, although I would have liked to,” he said, pulling her close and edging his lips toward hers.
"Should I just write my mother now? Letting her know I’m officially dating Ronald Weasley, famed war hero and blood traitor? Disinherit myself, and get her to start scratching my name out of the family history books a few months early? Then you could Owl yours while we’re at it? Set up afternoon tea?" she snapped quickly, but her laughter filled the air, and Ron knew she was being her usual aloof self.
Pansy had told him that she wanted to wait until she had secured her storefront in Diagon until the year was over and her plan was complete. But he bloody hated waiting.
"Don’t tease," Ron replied, wrapping her hands over his and placing them on his heart.
Every time Pansy laughed at one of his stupid jokes, he felt a rush of warmth flood his chest. There was something about her laughter that made him want nothing more than to continue to be the source of it.
The scroll unfurled from her hand like a bursting firework, its golden writing flickering against the black obsidian parchment. They both stared, and Pansy's hand still clasped his chest, fingers tightly gripping his collar.
“In fire's embrace, this domain was claimed,
Where dissent thrives and renewal's named.
Two paths unfold within this realm's domain,
One seeks the lost, the other, the gained.
To reunite once more, in fate's refrain,
These paths converge, to find each other again.”
"Are we supposed to split up?" Pansy's voice carried an edge as she questioned, prompting Ron to re-read the clue. She was right. It seemed the clue hinted at them taking different paths, but where to start exactly?
"I think so, but where? 'In fire’s embrace, this domain was claimed,'" Ron recited aloud, recognizing that the first sentence often held the initial clue.
Suddenly, it hit him like a falling bludger from the sky. It was the flames, consuming everything in their path before they stumbled upon the brooms. It was Hermione clutching his waist, facing off against Crabbe, Goyle, and Malfoy. Ron braced for the familiar surge of hatred, but instead, he felt a pang of fear—fear of taking Pansy into that room, fear of what Harry had warned about it being a mind fuck. It hadn't been the worst, but what did that even mean to Harry?
"The Room of Requirement. It's the only place in the castle that was completely destroyed by fire," Ron finally verbalized, meeting Pansy's hardened eyes and bracing for any signs of resistance.
"What about Hagrid's?" Pansy suggested coolly.
"I wish, but I doubt it. Hagrid wouldn't have been able to keep that a secret, and I saw him yesterday," Ron explained. He had paid Hagrid a visit after class, knowing the man well enough to detect any signs if he had been involved in the Scavenger Hunt.
"I've never been to the Room of Requirement before. You'll have to lead the way," Pansy replied with resolve, recognizing that this might be easier for her than for him.
Ron took the lead, moving up the stairs with Pansy's swift footsteps echoing behind him. They reached the corridor in no time; a place Ron had actively avoided until Pansy had pulled him through it back in September.
Slightly out of breath, he realized he'd been slacking at Quidditch practice lately, his only real exercise happening between his sheets. Embarrassed by his wheezing, he composed himself and turned to Pansy, who was still catching her breath beside him.
"There," he managed, gulping for air and pointing to the wall.
Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes, the exertion pulsing in his ears. He tried to clear his mind, focusing only on the task at hand. But the scent of Pansy's perfume lingered, heightening his senses until she was all he could think about. He needed to push those thoughts aside, to focus on the hunt, yet they clung to him, all he wanted was to finish quickly and not be away from her behind these walls for too long.
"Ron..." Pansy's voice interrupted his thoughts, and he opened his eyes. The door materialized before them, and reluctantly, Ron took a step forward.
"Whatever happens in there, it changes nothing out here," Ron declared, pausing to grasp Pansy's hand tightly just before they crossed the threshold of the door. Pansy nodded, her grip firm in his.
He entered the room first, taking in the familiar yet altered surroundings that in his mind resembled a poorly painted horror house.
A labyrinth of books sprawled out before them; the scent of decaying paper thick in the air. Two entrances sat in front of them, signaling the point where they were meant to choose separate paths.
"I'll go left?" Pansy suggested, turning to Ron with a weak smile.
"Right it is," he confirmed, swallowing hard, determined to keep it together for her.
Pansy started to move toward the opening flanked by books, and a sudden realization struck Ron, prompting him to move fast before he lost her. He thrust the Deluminator into her hands, the one Dumbledore had given him. He wasn't entirely sure why he had kept it in his pocket tonight, but something told him they might need it, or she might need it.
"What's this?" Pansy questioned, confused.
"It was Dumbledore's. It's a Deluminator. If it gets too dark, or you’ve really gotten lost, just click it." Ron explained, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze before heading toward the right entrance again. He watched as she hesitated by her own entrance.
"I'll find you, alright? It should only take me 10 minutes - if that. I'll smell your perfume," he joked, trying to lighten the mood. Pansy smiled down at the ground before vanishing into the shelves, and Ron followed suit.
He ventured deeper into the maze, the stacks of books seemingly closing in with each step. Gripping his wand tightly, he attempted to cast the "Point Me" spell. But nothing happened, it didn’t work, the charm did nothing.
Immediately enveloped by darkness, Ron felt as if the shelves were closing in on him more rapidly than before, a trick of the light or perhaps just the foreboding feeling creeping into his veins. He moved forward, uncertain of how far he'd need to go or what he was going to encounter. Harry's ominous warning about the maze echoed in his mind, suggesting that the real challenge might lie in the disorienting nature of the labyrinth itself.
He felt like he was circling the drain, lacking any sense of direction, unsure of where he had been or hadn’t been.
His head spinning, Ron rounded another corner and was suddenly greeted by a familiar voice.
"This is the second time I’ve had to wait in this bloody place. I must be a popular bloke,” It was Fred. Ron froze in his tracks, a lump forming in his throat.
"Fred? What are you doing here? You're dead," Ron blurted out, his mind reeling.
"Sharp as ever, brother," Fred chuckled, his tone pointed.
Ron was confused. Was this part of the scavenger hunt? A trick? Fred's form shimmered in the moonlight streaming through the windows, his translucent figure unsettling.
"What do you mean, the second time?" Ron asked, realizing that this must be some sort of illusion. It couldn't truly be his ghost.
"I've already had to show Gin the way. I guess you now too? Honestly, if either of you two wins, I should get half the prize," Fred quipped, eliciting a slight smirk from Ron.
"If you're here, does that mean Parkinson will also see some version of you?" Ron questioned, feeling a tightness in his chest at the thought of what Pansy might encounter.
"Parkinson? Pansy Parkinson? She's your partner, then? Unfortunately, I don't have insight into what they see on the other side," Fred replied. Ron felt an urgent need to keep moving, to find Pansy as quickly as possible.
"Right... I need to keep moving then," Ron urged forward, determined to push through the maze.
"Always in a rush, and for Pansy Parkinson, never thought I'd see the day," Fred needled.
"I'm in love with her, I don't care if you want to sit here and make jabs at it, but I don't have the time for it," Ron confessed, his voice firm.
"After all those years of you and Hermione awkwardly rummaging around each other, you ended up in love with Parkinson? You deserve to get teased over that," Fred joked.
"Fred... it's not like before the war, and it's not like I didn't try with Hermione. We just...” he paused “We were kids. I had no idea what it really meant to be with someone, to love someone not just as a friend... I'm sorry if you never got to experience that. I'm sorry for a lot of things... I wish... I wish you were still here. And honestly, I wish I could hear you and George making fun of me over this. I miss it," Ron said, his body relaxing.
He knew that this conversation, even if only a figment of this hunt, was just a reflection of his brother's true self. But hearing his voice, and seeing his face, released a year's worth of pain.
"Go on then, don't let me hold you up," Fred smirked, and before Ron could even say goodbye, the figure vanished, leaving a direct path in front of him.
Ron lowered his head and barreled forward, knowing he had to be closer to finding Pans. As he ran down the long stretch ahead, he noticed the books transforming into moving pictures, each featuring himself.
He paused, searching for the next clue, but was caught off guard by a photo of himself and Hermione, flanked by his parents, seemingly at an engagement party—their engagement party.
Ron gulped, noticing Hermione's smile, not the same as the one she had worn when she walked into the common room earlier and looked at Malfoy. Ron's own expression appeared happy, but it lacked the true joy he knew he had once felt.
Moving forward, the photos shifted. He and Harry sat at a booth in the Leaky Cauldron, both in Auror robes, looking older and weathered. Ron was drinking heavily, his face devoid of happiness. He noticed the absence of a wedding band on his finger as he lifted his butterbeer. Hermione and he had never married, or if they did, they weren't together anymore.
It wasn't the life he wanted, but it was the one he had begged for at the beginning of the year, the one he had repeated to himself over and over again, before the project, before Pansy.
"Parkinson! Parkinson, can you hear me?" Ron roared in frustration as he moved forward once again, the frames twisting and shifting with him. This time, it was a picture of himself and Pansy standing in front of a shop in Diagon Alley. Pansy looked radiant, holding up a just-opened sign, while Nott and Ron stood on either side of her, smiling widely. Ron's pride swelled as he gazed at her watery eyes, laughing as the photo was taken.
Moving on, he was hit with another image. This time, it showed Pansy straddling him in a large wingback chair. They appeared to be in their late twenties, and she was trying to force-feed him a slice of cake, likely his birthday. They were both laughing together, and Ron noticed wedding rings on both their hands. Was he married to her? His heart thudded.
He leaned in to examine the picture closely, he saw the lamp light behind the chair flickering, turning on and off as if someone were clicking behind the frame. The Deluminator.
"Pansy!" Ron shouted and lunged at the frame. Instead of crashing through it, it seemed to fade away, and he tumbled hard onto the floor. As he looked up, he saw a pair of Mary Janes in front of his face. Pansy.
"Are you alright?" she leaned down to grab his arm and help him up, but all he could feel was the warmth of her touch and the indescribable feeling of being with her again.
"Are you?" he asked, gripping her back, and she nodded, a small tear in her eye.
"I'm writing my mother tonight, I want this life, and I don’t want to waste any more of it" she confessed.
"Thank fucking Merlin, I’ll write mine too... when do you want me to schedule afternoon tea?" Ron exclaimed with a breathy laugh, cupping her face in his palms as he pressed his lips against hers, finally, fucking finally.
He didn't even hear the sounds of the bookcases slamming down around them or the feeling of the room shaking uncontrollably. It wasn't until she broke away and peripheral flames caught his attention that he realized the time.
"28 minutes and 17 seconds,"
"As much as it's deeply satisfying watching you ignore Scar Boy and the Weasel, I hate to see you like this. Are you sure you don't want to at least try to talk to Potter?" Draco asked.
He could see that this was still weighing heavily on her shoulders, and despite everything he had ever taught himself, he knew that her friends could help ease this burden. He had tried to be the sole person in her life whom she might have needed to feel better, but as hard as he tried—and fucking Merlin, he tried—it was only a matter of time before she would need to speak to them again.
He had even had her sit in his dorm room one night while Theo and Blaise played Exploding Snap and Wizarding Chess, hoping it might cheer her up. But between Theo's incessant dramatic rants and Blaise's unsavory comments about his sexual exploits with Ginny, it was safe to say she might not come back down for boys' night anytime soon.
"I'll talk to Harry and Ronald when I am ready to talk to Harry and Ronald," Hermione huffed back, flipping another page at the library desk they were currently sharing. They were set to start their hunt in the next half hour, and they figured the library was the most central location to wait until their clue revealed itself.
"Alright then," Draco didn't want to push further. After their date in London, they had spent the remainder of the evening wrapped in each other's arms, just talking. Draco had never in his life allowed himself to be so vulnerable with anyone, but she was so fucking easy to talk to.
The looks, the jeers, the comments—they continued to rain down on them. And although she maintained a thick exterior, Draco could tell it was wearing her down. Without her moronic duo, she seemed lost, and there was nothing he could do, besides going to bloody Weasley and Potter himself to try to bridge that gap.
Fuck, should he do that? It would be a last resort, a very last resort.
"I met with Van Beek last night," Hermione finally admitted, as if Draco hadn't known that, and as if he hadn't instructed Van Beek to give him the exact information as soon as he left his meeting with Hermione to be relayed back to him.
"You did?" he asked, feigning nonchalance.
"Don't pretend you didn't know," she smirked.
"I wanted to hear it from you," he danced around the fact that in reality, he desperately needed to know.
"There is a possibility... Van Beek ran some preliminary tests under the Ministry of Australia's guidance and with Kingsley's permission. The possibility would be small, but with my agreement, he has some trials he'd like to begin," Hermione started.
Draco knew the exact chance. He had asked Van Beek himself. The possibility was a 21.1% success rate—small, meager, but enough of a backup plan.
"The funniest part was that when I asked how much these trials would cost, he told me that it wouldn't be any cost... or at least not a cost to me. Do you happen to know anything about that?" she smirked again as if she had caught him.
"You helped save the Wizarding World, Granger... Is that not enough payment?" he stretched.
"How much are you spending on it, Draco?" she asked again.
"Don't worry about it. If it works, I'd pay whatever Van Beek asked," he answered casually.
"... I don't want to be indebted - " she began, about to scold him.
"You're not indebted to me. You're my girlfriend. This is what people do for their partners. They support them with any means they can... Obviously, besides my intelligence, wonderful personality, and immaculately toned body, my means also just so happen to be my family vault, so I won't hear about the price tag of this," Draco replied firmly. Hermione's eyes softened as she stared at him for a moment before reopening her mouth.
"Did you see the standings in the Great Hall?" she asked, and Draco dropped his eyes, confirming that he had indeed seen them.
Hermione and Draco were among the last few pairs to go on their hunt, so they remained in the top spot. However, it was becoming increasingly clear that if they maintained it, they'd be up against all their friends.
"The fifth and fourth spots could still be up for grabs. MacMillian and Lovegood are still after us, I think, as well as Thomas and Fletchley, and Brocklehurst and Flint's ogre of a brother in the seventh year," Draco said quickly as if he hadn't been weighing the options against them.
Lost in their back-and-forth Draco had seemingly lost track of time. Just as Hermione was about to retort, a small piece of parchment unrolled on the desk, shooting into the air and erupting into flames.
“In fire's embrace, this domain was claimed,
Where dissent thrives and renewal's named.
Two paths unfold within this realm's domain,
One seeks the lost, the other, the gained.
To reunite once more, in fate's refrain,
These paths converge, to find each other again.”
They both stared at the riddle, reading it again, and Hermione's eyes met his, silently acknowledging each other. He exhaled deeply, realizing exactly where they would have to go.
She glanced back at him, her eyes moistening.
"I didn't think it had recovered," she whispered.
"I tried to avoid thinking about it altogether," he replied, pushing his seat back with a screech.
"Draco... it might not look the same. It might be completely different," Hermione tried to reassure him, sensing the turmoil in his mind. But deep down, he knew that whenever he recalled that room—the nights of torment, the days of agony, the anxiety, the mental torture, and the moment when Crabbe and Goyle had aimed their killing curses at her—all he felt was rage. Not directed at the room but at himself.
Draco walked ahead, distancing himself from her slightly. They both knew the way, as he had traversed this path countless times. He didn't want her to worry about his emotions or what memories were resurfacing.
He understood that the room held just as many demons for her as it did for him. She had nearly lost her life in there, because of him—because he had been fucking stupid enough to bring along Crabbe and Goyle.
She trailed behind him in silence, yet her thoughts resonated so loudly that he could practically hear them.
"Granger... I'll manage," he muttered through clenched teeth, knowing exactly what she was thinking.
"Can we even still get in?" she asked as they reached the landing where the door would appear.
Draco felt a twitch in his jaw, unsure if he wanted to delve into the recesses of his mind that held the key to unlocking this fucking door. He wasn't certain he wanted to recall how he used to force it open, how he had once schemed and plotted for Dumbledore's death behind these walls.
"Draco... could you... could you help me with Occlumency, like last time? I believe... I think I could open it," Hermione suggested, he knew her thoughts would racing faster than his own.
He couldn't believe she was asking him to allow her back into her mind, although he wasn’t sure if he was mentally prepared to return to her sanctuary—the Burrow, the damned Weasleys'.
He nodded, stepping closer, their eyes locked as he closed the distance between them. His palms outstretched, he gently placed them on either side of her temples.
She mirrored his actions, closing her eyes as he did the same. It was like the first time she had allowed him to do this, back in September, although when he first attempted to probe, he encountered the slightest resistance from her, this time all her barriers were down. He slipped effortlessly into her mind, bracing himself for the expected vision. Instead, he found himself and Hermione entwined in the sheets of the Royal Suite, her body snugly nestled in his arms as he ran his fingers through her curls.
He felt her relaxation wash over him. He was now her sanctuary, her refuge, where she sought solace. It was with him.
His heart raced with the realization that he would never be able to let her down. He was prepared to do whatever it took.
When he finally withdrew from her mind, it felt as if he was tearing himself away from a place he wanted to remain forever. But as his focus returned to reality and her espresso-colored eyes, he descended towards her as if he hadn't kissed her in years, and she reached out, her lips tender against his.
"I'm your happy place?" he whispered, his lips hovering over hers.
Fucking hell, he was completely hers.
"For a long time now," she confessed, her hand tracing down his button-up shirt, lingering over his dark mark. She paused, gazing down at the reddish-black hue visible through his white shirt. Her head turned, and his followed, both now fixed on the looming door ahead.
Fuck, they still had to go in there.
Without hesitation, they stepped inside. Draco wasn't certain what he expected to find, but the familiarity of the grand arches and the distinct smell was both comforting and unsettling. It seemed similar, yet it was nothing compared to the piles of discarded treasures that had haunted his dreams and plagued him every day of his sixth year.
There were two entrances, just as he had thought back in the library. This task would separate him from Hermione, something he dreaded. But the most important thing to him was remaining in the top five and winning that fucking Chalice.
"I'll go right?" he suggested, and she nodded determinedly.
If it had been almost anyone but Granger, he might be worried. But he doubted that whatever McGonagall and the Ministry had put in this maze would actually harm her physically. And as long as he did everything he needed to in this maze to find his way back to her, he'd support her if the mental strain of this hunt became too much.
He found himself completely engulfed by the stacks around him, only realizing they were books when he paused to look. "Fucking hell," he thought out loud. Of course, Granger would stop to read all these damn books, wouldn't she? This was like porn to her. This must be the test. There was no way her love for books, and her curiosity for old texts, wouldn't slow her down in navigating this maze.
He pressed on, refraining from casting any spells or lights. Instead, he slithered down the paths as quietly as a snake, unwilling to give anything lurking in the shadows a chance to find him first. He grew frustrated, feeling like he had been wandering these winding corridors for ages, yet still feeling like he was going in circles. But he needed to maintain his composure, to stay cool and collected. He knew how to be the predator, not the prey.
Turning another corner, this time sharper than anticipated, he finally found himself in an unfamiliar place. And before him stood a woman, one he recognized only from photos and one he had believed to be dead.
“Cousin, it’s about time we were properly introduced, isn't it?” The woman with mid-length purple hair emerged from the shadows, her form illuminated by the faint moonlight. It was a surreal sight, leaving Draco unsure if she was a mirage or a ghost.
"Nymphadora," he replied coolly.
He had heard of his cousin briefly before the war, and then venomously as Bellatrix would seethe about murdering her niece and her sister for turning blood traitor. He had watched his mother's face during those moments, searching for signs, realizing that blood truly meant nothing.
"I'm surprised you know my name, Draco," she smirked, her hair flashing jet blue.
"I've heard it enough... although it was more of a curse," Draco retorted.
"What are you doing here? You died during the battle, along with Lupin," he pressed, not prepared to deal with the idea of reconnecting with a dead cousin who wasn't truly here anyway.
"In a manner of speaking, so did you? Didn't you? This isn't the person I remember knowing or hearing about... You're not that same boy," Tonks added, her tone contemplative.
"I don't want to talk about the reasons for my shift of allegiance. I need to get past you and find Hermione Granger," Draco interjected, cutting to the chase.
"Hermione Granger? Oh, I love that girl... and from the way your eyes shifted when you said her name, so do you?" Tonks needled a hint of mischief in her tone.
"I'm not having this conversation with you, dead or alive... Now, can you tell me how to get the hell out of here?" Draco snapped.
He had never admitted it out loud, but he did love Hermione Granger. She had burned a hole through his heart, and only she could revive it.
"Not before you admit it, out loud. I want to hear Draco Malfoy tell his long-dead cousin about love... Give me hope that my son gets raised in a different world than the one we did," Tonks pushed, her words striking a chord within him. He hadn't even considered Teddy, the cause of so much outrage just last spring.
It was for him, ultimately, that Lupin and Tonks had fought and died. This project wasn't truly for the 7th and 8th years alone it was for the children who would come after them, the ones they could ensure wouldn't end up damaged like himself, or Theo, or Potter, or Granger.
"I'm in love with Hermione Granger," he reluctantly admitted, even though every fiber of his being was consumed by it. He didn't want to talk about it with a practical stranger, ghost or not. "Happy?" he finished bitterly.
"Are you?" his cousin smirked and vanished, leaving a distinct, direct path before him. Draco ran with the impulse to find her, the desire pumping through every blood vessel as he dashed into a long corridor. The books vanished, and frames erupted, hung like a gallery wall. But instead of portraits, they were moving photos.
The first that caught his eye froze him in place. He watched himself, stiff and unmoving, clad in full aristocratic dress robes, with Astoria Greengrass beside him, wearing a soft smile in a lavish wedding gown. His mother and her parents stood rigidly on each side.
It was a gut punch. What the hell was that? He looked only a few years older than now, yet... horrified. In what fucking universe had that happened? He prayed it wasn't this one.
Shaking off the shock, he moved again, and the photos shifted. He stood beside a small blonde-haired boy, his face gaunt, his eyes dark swirls. Astoria stood beside them, her demeanor resembling every haughty portrait of his ancestors he had ever seen. They looked... they looked too much like the photograph of himself with his father and mother hanging in their drawing room: stern, angry, emotionless. He couldn't imagine living his entire life like that. He couldn't bear the thought of bringing another human being into this world without experiencing true love between parents. He knew what unconditional love was; his mother had shown it time and time again. But he desperately wanted his future children to have what he didn’t.
Fuck. A lump formed in his throat. This was his life, this would have been his life if he hadn't been partnered with Granger, if Granger hadn't somehow found a piece of him desirable, let alone bloody tolerable.
He moved again, this time faster, and the photo spun. He was standing alone in his manor, his eyes completely broken. He appeared older, almost his parents' age, and he was... alone. Completely alone, in a dark, cavernous room. It was the life he believed he deserved, the life he thought he would have after everything that he had done. But now that he had tasted the sweet sunshine that was Hermione, he needed it. He clung to it, realizing it was the reason he breathed in the morning.
The photos spun again, and this time, there she was—a goddess beside him, her light somehow reflecting his own. They stood hand in hand, him gazing at her. They were in the gardens of the manor, the sun high in the sky, and she wore a silky white dress while he was in robes, but not as uptight as in the previous photo. She wore a ring, and so did he... Were they getting married?
Draco couldn't believe it. He was marrying Hermione Granger. He wasn't sure if his heart could handle the sight of her. He just kept staring, praying, hoping this wasn't some sick illusion about to be ripped away. But it wasn't.
His brain struggled to comprehend how this could become his life. After everything he had done, he felt like the luckiest man alive. The Draco staring back at him was the luckiest man alive.
Draco moved toward the photo, longing to feel the frame, to see if he could touch her through it if he could somehow fall into that world.
Just as his hands were about to touch the picture, he hesitated for a moment. Then, from the photo in front of him, he heard the faintest whisper of her voice: "Draco."
It was like an angel's call. His hand reached again, and the corridor that held the gallery wall disintegrated around him.
Hermione stood before him, her hair wild, her eyes slightly watery, but the happiness in her eyes matched what he had seen in her mind, what he had seen in that photo.
"Good God, I never want to be away from you that long again," Draco said, gripping her waist and pulling her close.
Tears spilled from her eyes, running down her cheeks as he held her tightly, her safe space, her happy place. It was his life's goal now.
The room began to disappear around them, the stacks of books slamming into the concrete floor and dusty winds whipping about as a fire erupted in the now empty space, a small flame burning the time into the ground.
"29 minutes and 58 seconds,"
Hermione let out a small laugh as they both looked down at their time.
"You can't let me be away from you any longer than a half-hour?" she joked through her pain.
"It felt like a lifetime without you... and I wouldn't have had much of a life," Draco confessed, grabbing her arm and turning it in his hands, pressing his lips to the raised scars on her forearm.
"Draco, you saved me, just as much as I saved you."
Notes:
Ahhh with the final hunt done - do we think all of our favorite partners will make the top five?
Up next - the final five revealed, and the Final Five dinner hosted by McGonagall and the Ministry what could go wrong when you put all these couples in the same room when half aren't speaking? Probably nothing, right?
Chapter 48: Finalist Dinner
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
- Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger – 1 hour 41 minutes 23 seconds
- Ronald Weasley and Pansy Parkinson – 1 hour 44 minutes 34 seconds
- Theodore Nott and Harry Potter – 1 hour 45 minutes 00 seconds
- Blaise Zabini and Ginny Weasley - 1 hour 45 minutes 27 seconds
- Neville Longbottom and Daphne Greengrass – 1 hour 47 minutes 25 seconds
Hermione stood outside the Great Hall; her mind fraught with anxiety as she glanced at the list of final contenders for the scavenger hunt. Ernie and Luna had been the last partners to do their fourth hunt. It was now confirmed that she would be competing against all her friends.
The fourth hunt had solidified many things for her. She loved Draco, and she wanted the life they could build together, despite the challenges she currently faced—the scrutiny from Skeeter, the backlash from the wizarding world, and the growing distance from Harry and Ron. Seeing those photos had stirred something deep within her, reaffirming her desire it had become an obsession in her mind.
In the depths of her side of the maze, she encountered a ghostly version of her mother from before the war, before her mind was lost. The sight nearly brought Hermione to tears. Bringing her parents back, and restoring her family, had been her goal all year since she found out about the Chalice. Van Beek might offer a way to achieve it without winning the Scavenger Hunt, but Hermione couldn't help but wonder if she was being too selfish in her pursuit, blinded by her love for them, and her pain.
What about Draco? Especially after witnessing her contrasting futures. In the life she saw with Ron, she felt suffocated; sacrificing her ambitions for his, and losing herself in the process.
But with Draco, it was different. They encouraged each other, striving for their individual goals while supporting one another. Hermione pursued her career in the Ministry, even becoming the Head of the International Magical Cooperation Department. They built a life together, fulfilling their dreams with each other.
She realized that while she may have attained everything she wanted, Draco's life was still marred by the scars of his past. His Dark Mark, always present and irritated, symbolized the burden he still had to carry, a reminder of the choices he had made or was forced to make.
She struggled with a flurry of conflicting thoughts as she walked through the maze, her conversation with her mother weighing heavily on her. They appeared happy and fulfilled in their new life in Australia, their minds unburdened by the traumas of the past. Restoring their memories would mean confronting the rift that would undoubtedly form between them, and seeking forgiveness for using magic on them without their consent, regardless of her intentions.
Had she been naive to believe that her parents wouldn’t be traumatized by their altered memories, by what she had done?
She should accept the consequences of her choices and refrain from delving into her parents' minds once again.
Instead, she could offer Draco his original choice, allowing him to decide whether he wanted to pursue a different future, one without his mark. It was a chance to start new, to shape their future together without the weight of the past hanging over them. While it wouldn't erase his past, it could offer him a chance to live without the constant reminder burned into his skin, the constant reminder of the decision he didn’t get to make.
“Congratulations Hermione!” Neville said politely as he stopped and interrupted her thoughts before going to breakfast.
Hermione returned Neville's polite greeting with a warm smile. "Thank you, Neville, congratulations yourself as well!" she replied as they walked into the hall together. The early hour meant there weren't many students present yet, giving them a quiet moment to chat.
"Thanks... you know, the last two hunts, Daph and I were really determined to make it,"
"Now I guess we are all really competing against each other. At least we have about a month before the final," Hermione said with a laugh, trying to maintain a sense of levity despite the growing tension inside her.
Their conversation was interrupted by the sudden appearance of two cards that materialized in front of them, with a small pop, that shook them both awake. Neville and Hermione exchanged startled glances before grabbing their letters and breaking the wax seals.
“Dear Ms. Granger,
It is with great pleasure that we extend our warmest congratulations to you on your outstanding achievement of reaching the Final Five of the Unity Projects Scavenger Hunt. Your remarkable performance alongside your partner, Draco Malfoy, has been consistently exceptional, demonstrating exemplary teamwork, perseverance, and ingenuity in overcoming each challenge encountered.
In recognition of your remarkable accomplishment, we cordially invite you to the Final Five Partnership Dinner, to be held in Headmistress McGonagall’s wing this Friday, at 7:00 PM.
Yours sincerely,
Minister for Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt
Headmistress Minerva McGonagall Head of Board for the Unity Project Cassiopeia Forescue”
“A dinner? With all of us? That should be fun!" Neville exclaimed
Hermione couldn't help but grimace inwardly at the thought. ‘Right, it should be fun... in a small room full of people who were barely on speaking terms. Great fun..’
"Granger... stop fidgeting, you look beautiful. It’s just a dinner... no different than eating in the Great Hall," Draco tried to reassure her as they walked down the corridor toward McGonagall’s wing. She kept pulling at the hem of her dress and flipping her curls out of her face.
“I don’t think that’s really the comparison you want to make,” she said back through gritted teeth.
They were one of the first pairs to arrive. The room was exquisite, with two large harvest tables fully set for dinner. Kingsley and McGonagall greeted them at the door, and they both picked up a glass of champagne from the adjacent tray.
Kingsley ushered them to one of the harvest tables, one designated for Ministry officials, McGonagall, and the Board, and the final ten competitors at the other.
Hermione took a small gulp as she looked around. Blaise and Ginny were already there, talking to Percy across the room, while Neville and Daphne Greengrass had just arrived and were still at the door.
She glanced at the assigned seating at the table. She was sitting beside Draco, with Pansy Parkinson next to her, and Ron beside Pansy. Blaise, Ginny, Harry, Neville, and Daphne sat on the opposite side.
"Fantastic," she breathed, looking back up at Draco.
“Did you want to trade seats?” he asked quickly, noticing Hermione's stare at Pansy’s name.
She just shook her head as Ginny pulled Blaise's arm over to the table, and Percy remained in a haughty conversation with a Ministry official.
“Thank Merlin you two are here. I couldn’t stand a second more of Percy’s ramblings. Are you getting excited for next week?” Ginny asked enthusiastically as Blaise and Draco nodded toward each other.
Hermione hadn’t forgotten about their trip to Bolzano for Easter. She was very excited to spend some time with Draco away from this castle, this weather, this atmosphere.
And seeing as how everyone in the wizarding world knew about her and Draco's relationship, she didn’t have to explain her plans to anyone. It was going to be a much-needed vacation from her real life.
“Ahh! Look who it is, my most fierce competitors. Everyone looking lovely tonight as usual,” Theo burst into the conversation with Harry trailing slightly behind.
“You know we are in second place now, right?” Pansy interjected quickly.
Hermione hadn’t even noticed Ron and her walk in, but she was clutching his arm, and Ron seemed to be more than comfortable with it. She knew they were together, but physically seeing it was so odd.
“This is cozy, isn’t it?” Pansy added, looking down at her name placed beside Hermione’s, and Hermione just gave her an annoyed smile.
“Hermione, Malfoy, congrats on the top spot,” Harry said warmly.
“Thanks, Harry,” Hermione smiled. She knew that he was trying, and really, she shouldn’t be so hard on him.
“Good evening, good evening. If you could all please take your seats,” McGonagall’s voice echoed through the room, and they all took their seats quickly.
Theo had a wide grin, and there was a heated exchange between Daphne and Neville, which Hermione found curious. She heard Ron clear his throat, and Hermione was stuck between the delicious leathery tobacco smell wafting from her left and the scent of fig and amber from her right.
Damn it, the Slytherins always smelled so good.
“Thank you. I’d like to begin by welcoming the ten of you, and our board here tonight and express my highest congratulations. The pairings I have in front of me were some of the most controversial from the Ministry's perspective. Yet, each one of you has exceeded expectations tenfold. Although we are not close to being done quite yet,” McGonagall began. “Before I review information about the final hunt, I’ll let Minister Kingsley say a few words.”
Kingsley stood up from his chair, and Hermione noticed Harry roll his eyes in anger, immediately looking disinterested. She found that odd too.
“Thank you, Headmistress. As you are all very aware, this project has been met with heavy criticism. But the exact circumstances that have led you all to be in this room tonight are why we consider this project internally to have been such a success. Overcoming the obstacles that once set you apart, wielding the pain from last year into something achievable. This... this is the future we are building. Each and every one of you is a crucial part of that,” Kingsley finished, and the room held a lackluster applause, with Harry not bothering to clap at all.
“Thank you, Minister. Now, for the reason you’ve all agreed to give up your Friday evenings,” McGonagall said sharply, and Hermione saw the table around her give guilty smirks. “In a month, on May 22nd at 8:00 PM, the Final Hunt will begin. You’ll be called that morning to be given the official starting point. Each pair will then get a clue. Each clue in this hunt will be slightly different, yet the end goal is the same: at the wand light eruption, you’ll begin the hunt. There will be ground rules. You may not actively seek to bodily harm or severely injure another team or player, yet you can use spells to try and slow each other down. Anyone using a harmful spell will be disqualified immediately. The first partners to reach the Chalice will win.” McGonagall finished and Harry finally popped up.
“Professor, can we please double inspect the Chalice to ensure it hasn’t been turned into a Portkey to lead someone to their death? It seems like an oversight you might not want to make again,” Harry snapped quickly, and Theo burst out laughing, McGonagall's face went white.
“Harry…” Ron grimaced.
“What? I just figured I’d bring up a valid concern. Don't you think it is one?” Harry pushed.
“Potter, of course, we have every single member of the Auror department and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement overseeing this,” Kingsley injected.
“Right... it’s not like those departments haven't made mistakes before,” Harry quipped back, and Draco snorted.
“Harry, I'm sure the Ministry has looked at every option and is ensuring our safety,” Hermione pressed, not fully understanding Harry's sudden shift in tone.
“You’d like to think, wouldn't you, Hermione,” Harry pushed back, and Draco, Theo, and Blaise were all hiding smug smiles.
“Potter, if you have concerns, please feel free to stay behind and voice them at the appropriate time,” McGonagall snapped.
“I’m all good, Professor,” Harry smirked and downed his glass of champagne, while Hermione's eyes went wild at his lack of respect towards Kingsley and McGonagall.
“Well, dinner is served then,” McGonagall snapped, and their first courses appeared suddenly in front of them.
“Thank Merlin, I’m starving,” Ron's voice rang out, and Hermione rolled her eyes.
“What else is new,” she quipped, not realizing she had said it out loud.
“What was that, Hermione? I couldn’t hear you over the heavy breathing of the vampire sitting next to you,” Ron snapped back, and Draco just kept his gaze fixed in front of him, taking a long drink and throwing up the middle finger in Ron’s direction, to which he scoffed at.
“Pans… I’ve heard from my mother that you’ve officially told her about your inter-house PBD experiments,” Daphne smirked kindly at her friend, sharing an internal joke that made Ron choke and the Slytherin boys groan.
“Daph… really?” Blaise interjected.
“I have told her.. and now I’m officially disinherited. So cheers to that... and cheers to your obvious experimenting with it as well. Have you also found it crosses the inter-house divisional lines like we had suggested?” Pansy winked toward Neville, who looked clearly confused.
“Parkinson, you’ve been disinherited?” Blaise and Draco said almost simultaneously, interrupting the conversation before.
Hermione wondered what the PBD was, some pureblood club she’d never been a part of.
“Yes... my family is no longer speaking to me, and honestly, it’s freeing being this poor, not knowing what’s next on the horizon,” Pansy said happily.
“Yeah…you probably won’t say that in a few months, but I appreciate the optimism Pans,” Ron said quickly, and Hermione nearly choked on her food, surprised by his choice of words. Draco glanced down at her with a curious expression.
“And what about you, Granger? What are your thoughts on the PBD? It’s crossed house lines for you too, hasn’t it?” Pansy asked with a slickness in her tone.
“Parkinson…” Ron warned in a groan, while Draco shot his friend a dark look.
“I’m not sure I know what that is, some sort of club?” Hermione replied, her curiosity piqued, but not wanting to give in to Pansy in case it was some sort of joke on her.
“Technically, not a club, more of a theory we’ve been discussing for years. It wasn’t until this year that we tested it may not be exclusive to Slytherins only,” Pansy explained, glancing over at Daphne, who stifled another laugh.
“Pansy, I don’t think this is the bloody time to talk about this,” Ron interjected again.
“I hate to agree with Weasley, but he's right,” Draco added, his tone tight.
“I’d love to fucking know, Parkinson, what’s getting these two to agree on something” Ginny chimed in, her expression a mix of curiosity and amusement.
“See, Ron? Draco? Let’s stop pretending like this isn’t super fucking weird. It is, so why are we all dancing around it? Granger, yes, I’m dating your ex-boyfriend, and oddly enough, you’re dating mine. Can we please just move on from it?” Pansy said matter-of-factly, and Hermione felt a punch of shame at being lectured on maturity by Pansy Parkinson.
“Thank Merlin, someone finally said it,” Theo huffed.
“Fuck off, Theo,” Draco shot back defensively.
“What does any of that have to do with this PBD theory?” Hermione countered, refusing to admit defeat just yet.
“Pure-blood Dick,” Pansy replied quickly, and Hermione nearly snorted champagne from her nose at Pansy’s cavalier tone.
Draco, Blaise, and Ron all groaned, while Neville and Harry looked utterly confused. Ginny and Theo, on the other hand, seemed delighted.
“Excuse me, but did you just say 'pure-blood dick'?” Hermione questioned, incredulous.
“That’s right. Daphne and I have been theorizing for years. For a long time, we thought it might just be Slytherins, never really considering crossing the line. But you pureblood Gryffindors have proven my theory correct, and apparently Daph’s too,” Pansy said, winking at Neville, who went as red as Ron’s hair, making Hermione feel slightly nauseated at the thought.
“Wait... are you two shagging?” Blaise interjected, looking between Neville and Daphne.
“We’re seeing each other,” Daphne blushed.
“I thought you were with Hannah?” Ron questioned.
“Ron, they’ve been over for months,” Ginny interrupted, and Neville nodded in agreement
“So, this is the reason you’ve been ditching us? You’ve been fucking Longbottom?” Theo smirked, and the entire table seemed relatively speechless.
“I haven’t been ditching you just to shag, we enjoy spending time with each other, and we’re a really good team. That and Draco is a twat,” Daphne said matter-of-factly, catching Hermione off guard. Her eyes shot up to meet Daphne’s.
“I can agree with you there, Greengrass,” Ron added.
“Shut up, Weasley. And what the fuck Daph? You’ve never once come to talk to me; you've pretended to be fine then just bitched behind my back all year, but I'm the twat?” Draco huffed.
“That’s enough, Malfoy,” Neville interjected suddenly, his tone sharp.
“You've known for months I was upset, yet you haven’t once come to apologize?” Daphne pushed, and Hermione felt like her head was spinning in six directions, remembering Daphne walking in on Draco with two Muggles. She pushed the thought out of her head, but then another thought surfaced: Draco had been with three of the four girls at this table. Jealousy did surge.
“Yeah, because you've been being fucking ridiculous,” Draco shot back.
“What’s fucking ridiculous is this conversation about blood superiority dick,” Hermione shot back, still unable to shake that out of her mind.
“I have to agree with Hermione, being the only non-pureblood at this table, I’m feeling slightly self-conscious now about my dick,” Harry added.
“Fucking Christ, Harry,” Ron scoffed, and Pansy let out a delighted little snort. But as Hermione looked around the room, besides herself and Harry, everyone else who sat at this table was of pure wizarding blood.
“Harry, I’m not a pureblood. Apparently, we aren’t being tested in this theory,”
“You’re not being tested in this theory, Hermione, because you don’t have a dick,” Ron retorted, and she flushed in embarrassment.
"Weasel, steer clear of discussions about my girlfriend's anatomy," Draco interjected abruptly
“I’m not sure what you’re asking, Granger, but if I finish the rest of this bottle of champagne and Draco lets me, I’d give you a go,” Pansy said back, and Theo smiled over at her, while Ginny oddly looked disappointed.
“Pansy,” Draco growled.
“Wait…. what?” Ron choked.
“Are we almost done with this dinner?” Draco huffed, rubbing his temples just as the main course was served.
“You're not exactly my type, but I appreciate the offer,” Hermione joked.
Pansy had a wit reminiscent of Theo's, which now made sense as to why she clicked with Draco, Blaise, and Nott so effortlessly.
Theo interjected with a mischievous grin, “Speaking of giving people a go, Potter mentioned he'd give you one, Pans.”
Harry's face flushed bright red, and Ron's fork clattered against his plate.
"What the fuck…" Ron scoffed. "I agree with Malfoy, is this bloody dinner almost finished?!"
“Theo…” Harry pushed, clearly uncomfortable.
“He was very high at the time….Harry, I told you I wouldn’t keep that a secret,” Theo smiled mischievously.
“Potter… honestly— flattered,” Pansy oozed, teasingly.
"Harry, you got high?" Hermione asked surprised. She knew Harry drank occasionally, but getting high with Theo felt strange for him.
"Yeah... but I only really smoke after a shag," Harry said nonchalantly.
The entire table fell silent, every eyes fixed on Harry and Theo, who both sat beside each other as if Harry had just said the most casual sentence in the world.
"After a shag... you mean... you two?" Draco asked, his voice cracking as a big smile erupted onto his face. It made Hermione think he had finally lost it.
“I don’t know who else I’d shag then share a joint with,” Harry replied, and Ginny started coughing wildly.
“I feel like this would be a good time to mention there is nothing wrong with your dick, Potter,” Theo winked at him.
“Harry... you never told me you were struggling with your sexuality,” Ginny finally managed through coughs.
“I’m not struggling with it, at least, not anymore. I like Theo, and I’ve liked girls too, I’m bi-sexual” Harry explained.
Hermione turned to Ron to gauge his reaction, finding him with his jaw hanging on the table.
“Sorry... I just need to be clear... not upset or anything... just a little confused... are you having us on?” Ron finally cleared his throat.
“No, I meant to tell you the other day... but honestly figured I’d just mention it with everyone here, I’m done with all the secrets,” Harry replied.
“Good for you, Harry. You know, for a long time, I thought I might be gay, but then I realized I was just bloody awful with girls,” Neville interjected.
“Ahhh thanks, Neville,” Harry responded quietly.
“I wish you would have told us... that must have been terribly confusing for you,” Hermione admitted, feeling horrendous for not checking in with Harry about his journey to find himself this year.
“Not like you’ve really been talking to me lately...” Harry added. “And Ron, I was going to tell you, mate... I hope this isn’t... strange for you,” Harry finished, and the words hung in the air as everyone held their breath, waiting for Ron's response.
“Nah, just fucking shocked is all... although... the morning after the Gala is making a bit more sense now...” Ron finally swallowed.
“Oh, right... I gave Potter a blow-job in your library, Draco,” Theo blurted out quickly.
“Granger, did you want to give it one last look before I torch it?” Draco responded.
“Draco...” Hermione pushed his retort aside. “Harry... I’m... I’m so sorry. I truly wish that I had been more present,” Hermione said quickly.
“Hermione, it’s alright. You were right to be mad at me for the Gala. I should have been honest,” Harry smiled back at her, and Hermione noticed Pansy elbowing Ron.
“What?” he whispered, and Pansy just eyed him.
“Ronald...” Hermione began, but Ron quickly interrupted.
“‘Mione, listen. I was in the wrong, alright? I shouldn’t have been as shitty to you as long as I was, and even though I don’t fucking understand the whole Malfoy thing...” Ron started.
“Fucking hell, please don’t tell us this is another one of your eloquent speeches?” Draco interjected scathingly, and Hermione gave him a quieting look.
“I was being a hypocrite. I fell for Pansy, and I was still holding a grudge against you, even though it was really a grudge against Malfoy,” Ron continued.
“Are you really going to keep talking about me as if I’m not sitting right here?” Draco interjected again.
“Anyway, ‘Mione... I’m sorry I was a fucking ass... but I’m working on it,” Ron smiled.
“Don’t strain yourself too hard,” Ginny quipped, and Hermione looked over to see her friend beaming at the hopefulness that they all could be friends again.
“Thanks, Ron... I’m sorry too, I should have been honest with you about my feelings for Draco” she replied, and she felt Draco’s hand run up her thigh.
Fuck.
He couldn’t do that here.
“Awwwwww, look at all of us… are we all friends now?” Theo said wildly.
“No,” Blaise, Draco, Ron, and Daphne all said in unison, indicating that there was still some unresolved tension in the room.
“Should I yell over to McGonagall and let her know the reason we are all in the final five is because we started fucking each other? I feel like that might be important data to add to their findings,” Theo added quickly, and Hermione felt herself laugh.
“Has every partner agreed on what they will ask if they win the chalice?” Zabini said finally, observing the group interact for the past hour, saying little.
Hermione recognized that calculating look; he was assessing his competitors.
“You’ve asked that now twice, yet you don’t seem to want to give up anything yourself, Zabini,” Draco retorted sharply, voicing the exact thoughts Hermione had been harboring.
Hermione couldn't shake the feeling of surrealism. Just eight months ago, she almost cried at being partnered with Malfoy. Ron and Pansy were barely on speaking terms, Ginny detested Zabini enough to slam a bludger in his face, and Harry avoided Theo like the plague.
Looking around the table, she saw they weren't miraculously healed or transformed into picture-perfect versions of themselves, at least not yet. But she couldn't deny that this project was making progress.
“I just thought I’d ask the group... it’s a stipulation for the winning pair and just wanted to see who’s discussed it or not,” Zabini reiterated, and the room tensed.
“When Granger and I win, we know what we will be using it for,” Draco shot back confidently, and Hermione felt a hot flush rising within her.
Was she still sure? She couldn’t bring it up now.
“Pretty cocky, don’t you think, Malfoy?” Daphne countered.
“Coming from the team that barely hung on to the fifth spot?” Draco retorted incredulously.
“It’s not going to be about who is the fastest at solving riddles now, Draco. We’re going to be up against each other... it might be who has the fastest wand work,” Theo smirked.
Hermione pondered that thought. She hadn’t considered it from that angle; they were allowed to try to impede each other, not to harm, of course, but to hinder each other's efforts.
“You think your wand work scares me, Nott?” Draco replied in an eerie tone, one that sent a shiver down Hermione’s spine.
“None of you scare me and Pans… we’ve got this in the bag,” Ron announced proudly.
“Do you?” Ginny scoffed. “You two have underestimated me my whole life, and now I just want to prove you wrong,” Ginny finished, looking between her brother and Harry.
“A really nice plan, Gin, but you two won’t win,” Harry spat back, a little fiery, and the comment seemed to take her aback.
Neville remained ominously quiet.
"Honestly, we could debate all night about techniques and who's better at what. This isn’t about brute strength or sheer intelligence. It's about who has overcome the most mental barriers this year, and that could be any of us," Hermione concluded, taking a quick sip of her drink.
She understood the purpose of these hunts: to test them in every possible way. This was a test she wouldn’t fail.
“Professor!” Theo shouted as dessert was being served.
“Malfoy had the loveliest idea, seeing as how we are all getting along smashingly, he said that he’d like to host a small after-gathering in his dorm room. Could we be excused, or would you like us to listen to more of the prepared speeches you have to give?” he added with a mischievous grin.
“I’m going to fucking murder you,” Draco growled under his breath toward Theo.
“Nott, do whatever you wish, but please do not disturb any other students. If I hear one complaint, it gets shut down. Not a soul leaves these grounds or the Common Room once you’re in there for the night. You’re all adults by Wizarding Law, but I don’t need to influence the younger students,” McGonagall huffed in a low, exhausted breath.
“Fantastic, thank you! And thank you to our host,” Theo smiled, and Hermione couldn’t help but chuckle.
The only two who seemed more reluctant to go back to Draco’s dorm than Draco himself were Ron and Daphne. It took Pansy all of three seconds to shut down Ron’s weak protest, which surprised Hermione. If it had been her, Ron would have argued all night about it. Neville seemed ecstatic about the invite, so Daphne smiled politely and agreed to go.
Honestly, Hermione herself was not feeling completely up to it, but Ginny looked excited, and after feeling so ashamed about not being there for Harry and just apologizing to Ron, she figured it wasn’t the worst idea.
They had made it through dinner, barely, but they did, and when they walked into Draco’s room Pansy immediately transfigured it to be larger, and Theo and Blaise brought in two cases of Firewhiskey, Butterbeer, and Champagne, she suddenly got slightly worried.
“Where did you even get all that?” she said wildly as Pansy grabbed one of the champagne bottles and popped it open aggressively.
“Call it a cumulative effort,” Theo winked toward Parkinson and Zabini. Ron looked slightly uncomfortable and didn’t lean or sit against anything.
“Parkinson, are you sure you don’t want to go study instead?” Ron said, insisting, and Hermione shot her eyes over, completely in disbelief.
“Study?” she questioned.
“It’s code for sex, Granger. He doesn’t actually want to study,” Pansy laughed and poured Hermione a large glass of champagne.
“I didn’t need to know that,” Hermione grimaced at the image.
Draco hovered over her cautiously, as if he was nervous about her overstimulation.
“It’s really kind of you to host this, you know,” she joked.
“Fuck, not you too,” he laughed and clinked her glass. “I wasn’t lying, I am going to murder Theo.”
“Can you believe him and Harry? I wasn’t expecting that one,” Hermione said as she looked over to see Nott explaining something to Harry as he pushed Harry’s hair from his eyes.
“Neither was I, but honestly, not much can surprise me anymore,” Draco quipped.
“Alright, alright, now for the real speech of the night,” Theo exclaimed, stepping onto Draco’s chaise and clinking his glass with his wand.
“Shoes off, Nott!” Draco roared, and Hermione smirked.
“On behalf of the 8th-year Slytherin Community, and the Department of Tortured Souls, in conjunction with the ex-Death Eater support group,” Theo said in a mocking tone, kicking off his shoes as he did it.
“Boo to the ex-Death Eater bit! You tried to kill us,” Ron roared and downed his drink, causing Hermione to pause.
Was Ron actually joking? There was a small laugh on his face. He was actually bloody joking.
“Please save all heckling until the end,” Theo continued.
“I’d like to congratulate every bloody one of us. I’d also like to pat myself specifically on the back for believing in and trying at this project from the launch of it, more than I can say for most of you” Theo added, and Hermione watched as Blaise and Draco rolled their eyes.
“But truly, I think this year would be a lot less fun if we hadn’t gotten paired with our favorite Gryffindors, reluctant or not, we’ve worn you down. I’d like to say before things get ugly between us, especially after Harry and I win next month.”
“Boo!” This time it was a unanimous boo, except for Harry who smiled.
“I’d like to say! Drink up, we’ve earned it,” Theo smiled wildly and downed his drink, followed by a wolf howl from Ginny, and they all followed suit.
Notes:
Up next - Easter!
Seeing as Ginny, Blaise, Draco, and Hermione will all be spending Easter together, and Ron, Pansy, Theo, and more than likely Harry will be in Diagon looking at storefronts, do we think that discussions of alliances in the final hunt will be formed?
Chapter 49: Strengths and Weaknesses
Chapter Text
"Potter, I didn't know you were coming along today," Pansy said quickly as Theo and Harry walked down the staircase toward the Floo.
Theo had told Harry that he had wanted to invest in Parkinson's store, which she had plans to open in early September in Diagon Alley, and they were planning to view the space today. Harry didn't have much else to do, and Ron was going, so he figured he'd tag along.
"I figured we'd Floo back to my estate after our viewings before these two head back to The Burrow for Easter," Theo suggested.
It was going to be Harry's first time there, and he felt slightly anxious at the notion. Malfoy Manor felt stuffy, cold, desolate—would Theo's estate feel the same?
News of Pansy and Ron, and Harry and Theo, had spread through the castle like FiendFyre, completely eclipsing talk about Draco and Hermione. Harry was surprised that Skeeter hadn't published anything yet, but he figured it'd be a matter of time without any solid proof other than the whisperings of teenagers.
He received some questions, especially from Dean and Seamus. Some of the girls in lower years giggled or whispered. Nott's past wasn't as hated as Malfoy's, as it wasn’t as well known; he had always been good at blending in, even if he had inflicted pain and suffering last year. Most seemed to despise Malfoy more, but that didn't mean Harry was free from some shady taunts about how the Golden Trio were now all intertwined with snakes. People in this castle knew how to hold a grudge, that was for sure.
Again, Harry had dealt with worse, so the snarky comments about him being with Theodore Nott didn't faze him.
Honestly, he had been more concerned with coming out as bisexual, but it seemed the wizarding world was more accepting than the Muggle one.
Ron and Pansy, however, seemed to receive little outward hate from their classmates, especially from the boys in their year. Pansy was attractive enough that Harry assumed guys understood why Ron was dating her. Although her reputation, whether truthful or not, caused some of the girls to talk behind his back, saying that Ron's type must be slags. Harry had heard some seventh-year say it to her friend, but when he rounded back, they seemed to have disappeared.
"Are you alright with that, Ron?" Pansy asked, and Ron seemed eager just to have been there.
"Yeah, for sure... Why not? It will just prolong all the questions Harry and I will get bombarded with as soon as we arrive home," Ron said with a shrug.
"It’s settled then, let's go. Our first viewing is in ten minutes. We're seeing three open spaces, right Pans?" Theo said as he squeezed Harry's shoulder.
Theo had been very off-put by the fact that Ginny, Blaise, Hermione, and Draco had all gone off to Bolzano together for Easter. He kept making comments about a couples' trip that apparently he and Harry didn't make the cut for.
Honestly, Harry was relieved. He was just exploring his feelings for Theo, and he didn't need his ex-girlfriend and her new boyfriend around while he did. So, the trip to Diagon was going to be a welcomed distraction for Nott.
They Floo'd directly into the Leaky Cauldron, and they had arrived early in the morning. It was barely 9 AM, so the streets weren't very full yet—not like they would be in about an hour's time. It was a strategic timing that Harry assumed Theo had thought about as well.
The first storefront they were going to see was shoved directly between Ollivanders and an off-brand potion shop. An older witch was standing out front with a quill and a stack of parchment, pounds of makeup on her face that seemed to age her even more. She was wearing a tailor fluorescent pink suit.
"Theodore Nott, Pansy Parkinson?" she greeted them warmly as they walked up to the front of the street. Harry thought it was a good size, with lots of natural light from big windows and sandwiched in a prime location, but what did Harry know about real estate?
"Pleased to meet you in person, Mrs. Mulhollan. This is Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley," Theo introduced them, and Harry shook her hand politely.
"Oh my... Harry Potter... Ronald Weasley. Truly a pleasure," the witch smiled, the cracks in her face deepening.
"This is the most expensive plot that we will be looking at today... but it is also some of the most sought-after real estate in Diagon," the witch began.
Harry watched as Ron squeezed Pansy's hand quickly before they walked through the space. Pansy talked about how she would want everything displayed, how it would be curated with men's and women's wear—a combination blend of muggle streetwear and wizarding culture, something Harry didn't quite understand and was surprised that Pansy did.
Ron nodded enthusiastically at everything she was saying, letting her know he'd be able to help with some of the handiwork in fixing the odd broken shelf or paint job.
The Weasleys were always patching things up at the Burrow, so it was no surprise that Ron knew his way around handy spells. Pansy seemed to beam, and Harry was proud of Theo for investing in his friend. Harry had told Theo about his Triwizard Tournament winnings funding Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, and it only seemed to excite Theo more at the prospect of being associated with something impactful.
They saw two more spots. One was smaller and less pricey, located just off the cusp where Knockturn Alley and Diagon met. Pansy thought it could give her shop a slight edge, which Ron seemed to grimace at. The other store was too close to Madame Malkin's, and Pansy didn't want the two shops confused.
Pansy and Theo both agreed that they liked the first one the best. They exchanged some light conversation about how much it would actually cost. Theo promised he'd give her the initial investment and fund the rental space for the first year. Pansy tried to work out an interest rate for paying him back, but Theo continued to shut down the idea.
"Parkinson, it's a gift... an inheritance of sorts, since you're no longer getting one from your parents. You can call me Daddy now," Theo said quickly.
"Yeah, that's definitely not happening," Ron rolled his eyes at the joke, and Harry laughed.
"I'll have to start on the lines quickly. I'll need to Floo to Paris to get some materials after June, and all summer, dusk to dawn. It will take a lot of work, but honestly, I just can't believe it. Theo…Ron... I couldn't have done it without the two of you. Truly," Pansy gushed, tears welling in her eyes. Ron looked the proudest he ever did, and Harry watched as his chest puffed up, radiating back her joy.
"Parkinson, where are you going to live now that you can't go back to your parents?" Harry questioned. He thought he also should follow up with Hermione on his offer to let her stay at Grimmauld. He hadn't spoken to her since Christmas about it.
"Actually, we haven't told anyone yet, but George renovated the single flat into two flats over the shop, so he's agreed to let us stay there for the next year until we figure something else out," Ron said proudly, and Pansy glowed.
"You're moving in together?" Harry said, stunned. They both looked at each other and shook their heads in agreement.
"Why didn't you ask me? I have tons of rooms at the Estate," Theo said, aghast.
"We both wanted to be close to Diagon. Ron's going to work part-time with his brother when he's not in training, and I'll be at the shop every day," Pansy added, and Theo looked sulky.
"Fine, but just because you're growing up doesn't mean I have to," Theo said, rolling his eyes as they walked into the middle of the street, just beginning to fill up with weekend shoppers.
"We can Apparate from here," Theo suggested, and Harry and the rest nodded in agreement.
It was almost noon, and he knew they were moments away from Ron saying that he was starving. With a massive resounding crack and the feeling of being sucked through space and time, all four of them landed firmly in front of a large hedge, the goblin-wrought gate with Sphinx engravings.
The Estate that sat behind it was massive, not as big as Malfoy's but more inviting. Springtime flowers were blooming, moss covered the brick as they walked down the path. Theo had a massive pool and a Quidditch Pitch as if he had spent a lot of time making this his own personal playground. Everything looked new.
"Master Nott is home, Peechy is so excited to see him and his guests. Peechy has lunch ready in the atrium…follow me….follow me" a small elf appeared as they walked into Nott's Foyer.
It was completely different from the house Harry had seen in Theo's visions; it was warm, and bright, like Theo's dorm room, with all the portraits of family stripped from the walls and replaced with art.
"Great, I'm starving," Ron said on cue.
"Theo, this is fantastic," Harry said, looking around as they walked into an atrium that overlooked the pool and pitch.
"Theo spent all summer on it. Once it was complete, we had a lot of fun times in the yard," Pansy added fondly, taking her seat and sipping the lemonade that Peechy had left out.
Peachy had prepared a delightful spread: treacle tarts (no doubt Theo influenced this), puff pastries filled with jams and cream, tiny sandwiches, small roasted Cornish hens, and a medley of vegetables.
Theo and Peachy seemed to be friends, like childhood friends, the way he treated her kindly and softly, unlike his teasing tone with Parkinson, Draco, or even Zabini. It made Harry slightly sad to think about his own relationship with Dobby and how much he truly missed it. Harry realized he hadn’t let himself feel that grief until he looked between Peechy and Nott. Kreacher didn’t really have the same warmth. Although, Harry learned to love him in his own way.
"So, let’s chat about the real reason I brought you all here today," Theo said as he stretched and poured them all glasses of mead.
"It wasn't out of the kindness of your heart?" Harry added.
"Only for you, my dear," Theo said kindly, and Harry felt himself melt into the chair.
“The final hunt, now that we understand the essence of it, what we can and can’t do... I think we should talk strategy," Theo said quickly, catching Harry off guard.
“Why would we share our strategy to win with you?” Ron said, not defensively but curiously.
“You can’t honestly think that a weekend away in Italy is just going to be shag city for those four, do you?” Theo pressed.
“Disgusting... one happens to be my sister,” Ron spat.
“What are you getting at, Theo?” Pansy said, catching on faster, and Harry already knew. An alliance.
“Pans... you know that Malfoy and Zabini are the most cunning and ambitious of us all. Now that we know that we can hinder one another's chances to win, it’s safer to work together to take out some of the other pairs and slow them down. Then, when we are positive it's just the four of us left far enough ahead, we can go our separate ways,” Theo added, and Harry didn’t like the thought of plotting against Ginny and Hermione.
“You’re asking for an alliance? You honestly think Gin and Hermione would go along even if Zabini and Malfoy suggest it?” Ron suggested, his interest grabbed.
This was his forte, Harry knew.
“Gin would,” Harry pressed. “You heard her, she’s so determined to beat us, I don’t think it would take much convincing at all.”
“And Hermione?” Pansy asked.
“Hermione wants to win, she’d do anything to get her parents' memories back, and if the three of them agreed I think she’d be reluctant but she’d do it,” Ron admitted, echoing Harry's internal sentiment.
“Who is the bigger threat? Honestly, we don’t have to act coy here.. between Zabini and Red, and Granger and Malfoy? What do you two think?” Theo asked, and Harry watched as Ron hesitated before answering.
“Malfoy and Hermione, obviously,” Harry said, sparing Ron from having to say it first.
“I agree, Parkinson? Weasley?” Theo pushed.
“Malfoy and Hermione… Hermione is terrifying in her own right, but I’m not going to sit here and pretend that Malfoy isn’t just as dangerous, regardless of how hard it is to admit,” Ron responded.
“Don’t count out Blaise, he’s got magical stamina like no other. I’ve seen it firsthand; he could rattle off forty spells and the last would be just as powerful as the first,” Pansy interjected.
“And Ginny's fast, very fast,” Ron added.
“This is good, let’s talk about strengths and weaknesses for each of them,” Theo moved, conjuring a large chalkboard as if he had planned this conversation exactly. Slytherin tactics, Harry chuckled to himself.
“Are we including Longbottom and Greengrass?” Ron asked, rising to his feet, clearly getting into the planning process.
“Not now, let’s focus on Blaise first. Strengths, weaknesses? I’ll start with magical stamina,” Theo prompted, and Blaise's name appeared on the board.
“Zabini is level-headed, calculated, and direct. It’s a strength when looking at clues, but he’s slow to make a decision, and he’s terrible at charm work,” Pansy said quickly, and the pros and cons appeared on the board.
“Brilliant, Pans. Weasley, Potter, what about Ginny?” Theo added
“Ginny’s Bat Bogey Hex is the best I’ve seen, all her hexes really, and since it’s not technically harmful, she’ll try to use them. She’s also fast like Ron mentioned, but she’s stubborn and prone to a blow-up before thinking things through. It could slow them down if we piss her off; it will throw her off her game. Remember the Bludger?” Harry added, and Ron nodded in agreement.
“Okay next..” Theo pushed forward.
“Malfoy... Strengths? Weaknesses?” Harry continued as the board began to fill up with notes on Ginny.
“Malfoy’s spell work is almost flawless, and he can use wordless and wandless magic depending on the spells. His occlumency is a wall; you can’t play mind games with him, not if he sees you as an opponent,” Theo added
“Weaknesses?” Ron gulped.
“Granger,” Pansy smiled, slightly more evilly than Harry would have liked.
“What do you mean?” Ron asked.
“Draco’s possessive, and overly protective. If we aim all our collective effort at her, it will throw him off; he’ll be consumed by focusing solely on protecting her. If we go after Granger, we have a way of slowing them down,” Pansy explained.
“I don’t like the sound of ‘going after Granger,’” Harry interjected.
“Right, and you act like going after Hermione is some easy task. She’s blasted back some of the worst Death Eaters known to the wizarding world. She dueled bloody Bellatrix,” Ron pointed out.
“With the help of Luna and Gin, but Ron isn’t wrong... Hermione isn’t an easy target,” Harry reluctantly admitted.
“And with that, Granger... Strengths? Weaknesses?” Theo turned the question to Harry and Ron.
“Hermione will do anything for Malfoy, we know that. And she’s not as righteous as you think. If a dirty trick gets played on her or she thinks she’s been wronged, we’re in for it. She’s not above trapping us in a jar. Plus, she’s always been great at charms, and her wand work is precise,” Harry said quickly.
“Weaknesses?” Pansy asked.
“She struggles if she feels like she’s not good at something. She was never great at casting a Patronus, and the more she thought about it, the more she spiraled. If we can catch her off guard once, it may take her a moment to rebound. Hermione will try to think through all options; she won’t react fast, especially if it’s a clue with variable outcomes. We could use that... throw her off the trail if we place an edge of doubt in her mind,” Ron finished.
“We need to be sure that McGonagall won’t let her wear the Gems of Endor. We have to make sure it would be a violation; not a single one of our spells would get through that magic,” Theo looked at Pansy.
“Gems of Endor?” both Harry and Ron asked.
“Those emeralds Draco gave her for Christmas,” Theo explained quickly.
“I bloody well knew she was lying when I asked her about those before the Gala,” Ron shook his head ruefully.
“They’re ancestral jewels. We couldn’t believe he gave them to Granger; he might as well have proposed. But Theo’s right, she can’t wear them or we’ll have zero shot at beating them,” Pansy added.
“And here we are... the masterminds of a plan... let’s strategize,” Theo smiled wickedly, and Harry looked over to Ron.
They had just patched things up. Hermione and Ginny would understand, right?
It was a competition; they were competitors. It wasn’t anything personal.
It was almost dinner time before Ron and Harry landed back in the living room of The Burrow, the adrenaline still coursing through Ron’s veins. He loved the planning, the strategy, the moving of the chess pieces.
It had been a fantastic day. Pansy was happy; she and Theo were going to sign the lease on the shop. Despite the very cold letter from Pansy’s mother and the very long legal packet explaining her disinheritance, Pansy seemed joyful. She shed tears of pure uninhabited joy when she received the papers. Legally, she was free of her bonds.
His parents, however, seemed slightly more reserved, although he had anticipated that. They sent back a cordial letter, explaining they were happy he was happy, but that was about it.
George didn’t seem all that surprised when they met to discuss the plans to move into the flat above the shop, stating he got the hint at Christmas, with a smirk and a smack on the shoulder.
Pansy and Ron agreed that if they had won the Chalice, Pansy would find a way to rewrite the legality of her disinheritance to ensure that she did, in fact, get the portion she was entitled to.
It wasn’t just about the Galleons; it was the principle that her family would still have her in their history books, and hopefully with the last name Weasley beside it, one day, Ron smiled to himself, not wanting to get too far ahead.
Ron did feel a twinge of guilt about plotting against his best friend and sister, but honestly, it was a competition. What would they expect?
“Ron, Harry, my dears, get your trunks settled; dinner is almost ready!” his mother called warmly, and both greeted her before heading upstairs towards Ron’s room. It felt odd to walk by Ginny’s knowing it was empty.
“What do you think?” Ron asked as Harry threw down his trunk with a thud.
“About the plan? I think it will work... although I don’t love dividing us like that... but honestly, I think Theo’s right. I think they will team up against us,” Harry said, and Ron knew they both felt the guilt churning.
“You don’t think they’ll hate us if, by chance, Nott’s wrong, and they don’t actually make an alliance, and they really are just enjoying a trip to Italy?” Ron asked again.
“Nott’s almost never wrong, trust me, it’s annoying,” Harry laughed.
“You’re just saying that because he’s your boyfriend,” Ron joked, and Harry rolled his eyes. Ron had his suspicions the night after the Gala, the way Harry was talking about Nott and how appalled he was at what the Ministry had made Theo and Draco do for acquittal.
He was still surprised that nothing before Theo made Ron question Harry's sexuality, but to be very frank, he didn’t really think much about Harry's sexuality, especially since Harry’s relationships consisted of a brief relationship with Cho Chang, then his sister. It was never in Ron’s interest to know more.
He understood the appeal of Nott, he guessed. Other than Pansy, he was Ron’s favorite Slytherin. Nott was clever, witty, and actually quite kind.
Harry and Ron slumped downstairs toward the dinner table. All his family was present except for Ginny. Ron had asked Pansy if she wanted to join, but she was staying with Theo. But really, Ron thought she was nervous about being officially introduced to his family as his girlfriend.
“You came directly from school?” his father asked as they took their seats.
“Ah, no, from Theodore Nott's. We were looking at storefronts in Diagon for Pansy, then we stopped by his place for lunch,” Ron answered quickly.
“How is Ms. Parkinson? She didn’t want to come around for dinner?” his mom asked, with her tone implying that Pansy might be too haughty to come over, or maybe Ron was being too sensitive.
“I asked, she would have come, but it would have meant Theo would have been stuck alone, so she stayed behind,” Ron replied quickly, and the table tensed slightly. Bill and Fleur exchanged glances, while Percy feigned disinterest.
“And Nott wouldn’t have been welcomed at the Parkinson home?” Molly pushed.
“No,” Ron began to chew. “Pansy isn’t even welcomed in the Parkinson home. The moment she wrote home about our relationship, she got disinherited and written out of the family book,” Ron said candidly, and his whole family now looked at him stunned.
“Disinherited?” his father said aghast.
“Her mother had a marriage contract ready for her in June. Once she told her mother that we were dating, and she wouldn’t be marrying whatever aristocratic pureblood her mother set her up with and would continue to date me; legal document were drawn up, signed, sealed, and delivered. Pans can’t go home,” Ron said quickly.
“Are you telling me that Persephone Parkinson kicked her daughter out of the house after she refused to stop dating our son?” His mother looked around the room wildly.
“Ah yeah, mental right?” Ron said, confused at the reaction.
“Ronald, you did not tell us this! We would have insisted she comes for dinner…... poor thing. I’ll make sure I pack you some fudge and biscuits to take to her... I can’t believe the audacity of Persephone. Like our son isn’t good enough for her daughter? And what has her family ever done? You, Ronald, have accomplished more in your short nineteen years than Persephone has in her entire miserable life!” His mother's sudden tone shift caught him off guard.
“Well, it’s not like you’ve all been the most welcoming either,” Ron said back to his family.
“Right.. well it’s been an interesting year.. with you all…uhmm…”
“Dating Slytherins, and war criminals? Is that what you mean, Mum?” George laughed, and Ron let out an exhausted huff. It hadn’t even been five minutes.
“You aren’t allowed to discuss the trials of those acquitted, it’s top secret. Although I can’t pretend, I don’t find Hermione and Malfoy's relationship concerning. I just hope she isn’t being tricked somehow,” Percy interjected.
“We aren’t going to talk about Hermione right now,” Ron growled
“Percy, how much do you know about the trials of those acquitted?” Harry pushed in his edgy tone.
“I’m not allowed to answer that question, Harry. I assume you can understand,” Percy replied quickly.
“Not really, no. You seem to mention it a lot for someone who isn’t allowed to mention it,” Harry pressed again, and Ron felt himself groan.
“Why don’t you just talk to Nott already,” Ron whispered through gritted teeth at Harry, and Harry waved him off.
“You’re right, I’ve already said too much,” Percy shut himself up in a snap.
Getting through dinner didn’t end up being that bad. Everyone danced around the subject of Ginny not being present, and Harry kept glancing over at Percy. Bill, Fleur, Victoire, George, and Charlie were a welcome release, catching up and making their usual jokes and jabs.
By the time Harry and Ron walked back to his room with big yawns, Ron secretly wished he could apparate to Theo’s and be wrapped between Pansy in some grandiose bedroom.
“Mate, you really need to talk to Theo about this whole Ministry mess, you’re coming undone over it,” Ron said as he shut the door.
“I just don’t know how.. I’ve been his partner for almost eight months, and every time he’s let me in, to see what his life was like during the war, he looks so broken, a shell of who he really is. He doesn’t want me to think of him differently, or to view him as some monster,” Harry pushed.
“You don’t think it’s worse if you don’t tell him at all? What if one day he finds out?” Ron suggested.
“I’ve tried to get it out of him, but he said his past isn’t the only one he’s protecting. I know he means Malfoy. I think he’s worried I’ll say something to Hermione, and honestly, I don’t know how she’ll react if she finds out,” Harry admitted.
“What happened to ‘I’m done keeping secrets?” Ron said mockingly.
“This isn’t my secret to tell... The worst part is that both Malfoy and Nott seemed to have moved past it. If I dredged it up, would I only be making it worse?” Harry suggested.
“What would make it worse is if people found out what happened. Does Theo realize that?” Ron asked.
He knew far too well that burying demons would only make them resurface with more of a vengeance.
“Maybe after the final hunt?” Harry said back.
“Hoping the Chalice will erase what they’ve done? If it did, it’d bring back a lot of evil people into the world,” Ron added.
“Maybe not erase the deed, but erase how it happened?” Harry suggested again.
“That’s a fine line, one you don’t want to play with, without knowing all the details, details you can’t get without asking the questions,” Ron rolled over on his bed, wishing it were more comfortable, or at least had Parkinson in it.
Harry released a defeated sigh.
Chapter 50: A Simple Yes or No
Notes:
R Rated Content below!
Chapter Text
It was the first time Hermione had traveled outside the country magically. She didn’t realize it was still such a process. Nothing compared to Muggle airports, but Ginny, Zabini, Draco, and herself all needed to register with the International Magical Co-operation department.
They were brought to a room inside the Ministry dedicated specifically for International Floos. Zabini had booked ahead for his villa to be directly connected, but they still needed to fill out the correct forms. Draco had more paperwork than the others, based on his probation.
“Dear Traveler,
As you prepare to enter our country, you must adhere to our regulations regarding the importation of goods. We must inquire whether you have any items that are deemed illegal for entry into our jurisdiction. Such items include, but are not limited to:
- Magical Creatures: Any creature classified by the Ministry as XXXXX, XXXX, or XXX.
- Dark Arts Artifacts: Objects imbued with dark magic that have not been duly registered under Ministerial Law and accompanied by the requisite documentation. For further details, please refer to section 3.1 of our regulations.
- Magically Modified Muggle Objects: Any objects originally created by non-magical individuals (Muggles) that have been altered through magical means, particularly those incorporating Muggle motor systems.
- Exotic Flora and Fauna: Plants, herbs, and fungi that are not indigenous to the region you are traveling to. For specifics, consult section 2.1 of our guidelines.
By completing this declaration accurately and honestly, you contribute to the safety and security of our nation. Failure to declare prohibited items may result in confiscation, fines, or other legal repercussions.”
Ginny read the customs document as they all signed, declaring nothing, and passed it back to the very bored-looking wizard checking documentation. He then ushered them to Floo #4, which now lit up to say "Bolzano, Italy – Zabini Villa."
They all stepped in together. It was one of the largest Floos Hermione had ever been in. Locking eyes with Draco, who gave her a rueful smirk, the green jets erupted around them. It was quick.
Hermione closed her eyes and held tightly onto those she thought were Ginny and Draco until the sunlight hit her eyelids again.
Exiting the hearth, she walked out into a villa unlike any she had ever seen. They were in the countryside, surrounded by mountains, with sunlight streaming in through floor-to-ceiling windows. The home was completely marble and ceramic, creating a light, airy atmosphere. The windows overlooked a vineyard that seemed to stretch endlessly, with a small dirt road winding through it, enclosed by meter-high brick walls around the entirety of the estate.
"Alright, Malfoy and Granger, I'll walk you both to your room for the weekend," Zabini said.
Hermione followed, completely entranced, as Blaise showed them a massive king-size bedroom with an ensuite that was all white marble. They had a wraparound terrace with a small table and chairs for two.
"Blaise, this is magical," Hermione said, turning back to see that Ginny was just as entranced as she was.
"Thank you, Granger. I think that's the kindest thing you've ever said to me," Zabini winked.
"I'm going to show Ginevra to our room. I'll meet you on the terrace in five minutes. We're doing dinner and a wine tasting," Blaise said quickly.
"And I mean it…five minutes, Draco," he added sternly as he closed the door.
"You're only outing yourself with that timing mate, I almost feel bad for Red," Draco shouted back, and Hermione gave him a scolding look.
"Noo..." Hermione warned as he turned to her, flashing his familiar, lustful smile.
"We could be late..." he suggested, running a finger down the side of the bed.
"Wouldn’t that be awfully rude as guests?" Hermione said biting down on her lip, thinking about herself spread for him like butter.
"It’s just Zabini. Who cares if we’re rude?" Draco continued to advance toward her, his intentions clear. Hermione felt her heart race, but she needed to maintain composure.
“I’m getting changed for dinner,” she insisted firmly, attempting to deflect.
“Let me help you,” he pressed, moving even closer.
Feeling his proximity, Hermione undid a top button of her dress, knowing the effect it would have on him. It only made Draco advance further, and when she felt his hands, she quickly spun on her heel and darted for the bathroom, with her dress and facewash in hand.
“Not fair, Granger...” his voice trailed behind the door.
Hermione felt a rush of heat as she stepped out of the bathroom, clad in a thin-strapped white linen dress that grazed slightly above her knees.
She had tamed a few unruly curls and washed the Floo residue from her face, pinching her cheeks lightly and swiping some mascara.
Draco stood before her in beige linen trousers and a crisp white shirt, the top buttons undone, revealing the scars on his chest.
She felt like he did that purposefully for her.
If there was ever a moment she felt like diving into bed, it was now. He rubbed that cologne she loved between his wrists and ran his hand through his blond hair in a gesture that was arrogantly fucking Malfoy.
“That’s going to get torn off you tonight…” Draco's words sent a ripple down her spine as his eyes traveled from her thighs to her lips, reminiscent of the first time he had looked at her with such intensity, the first morning back at Hogwarts.
“You’re the most beautiful woman on earth,” he huffed, his voice heavy, and Hermione felt a flush of warmth.
“You haven’t met every woman on this earth; how could you compare?” she replied, offering a smile to mask her own insecurity.
“That’s the thing, isn’t it? Nobody will ever compare,” Draco's words were direct and unwavering as he extended his arm for her to take.
“Dinner?” he asked.
Draco led Hermione down the spiral staircase, his familiarity with the surroundings made Hermione think he had been there before. Soft music filled the air, and a gentle breeze swept through the home, a glow of pink, purple, and golden hues reflected off the mountaintops.
Hermione couldn't help but feel that this moment would become one of her favorite memories as they settled in to join Ginny and Blaise at a harvest table overlooking the vineyard.
“Malfoy, I didn’t realize you owned normal human clothes,” Ginny teased, taking a sip from her glass of pale yellow wine.
“I don’t think I’ll take that as a compliment,” Draco replied dryly, taking his seat beside Blaise as Hermione nudged Ginny gently.
“Alright, to start this weekend, we have a tasting menu that I personally helped curate with our chef,” Blaise announced confidently.
“We'll begin with our classic Gewurztraminer, a very floral grape. I find it pairs best with shrimp or codfish, so Chef will be bringing out those pairings shortly.”
Draco nodded appreciatively, swirling his glass before taking a sip. “Excellent choice, Zabini, what vintage?”
“It’s 1987,” Blaise replied.
“Zabini, your chef? Is he a house-elf?” Hermione inquired curiously, noticing that most of the staff she had seen so far appeared to be Muggles.
“No, he's a Muggle, Obliviated a few times, like most of our staff here. We don’t have house-elves,” Blaise explained matter-of-factly.
“My family isn't old money or old magic enough to inherit house-elves.”
“New money... it’s very showy,” Draco quipped, gesturing toward the food spread before them. Ginny chuckled, and Blaise raised a hand as if to affirm Draco's observation.
“How beat up was Nott over the news?” Blaise inquired, turning to Draco.
“He spent about three hours complaining in my dorm, then spent another five asking if it was because he was dating Potter... I didn’t answer right away. I let him sit with that one, to punish him for not telling us he was shagging the Chosen One,” Draco smirked.
“Are either of you upset about it? You know... with all our interesting pasts?” Hermione asked delicately.
“You mean how we all used to hate each other? No, Granger. Honestly, I can breathe a little lighter now, knowing he won’t be after my girlfriend anytime soon,” Blaise replied, glancing at Ginny.
“Blaise has a deep-seated insecurity that I’ll wake up one day and decide I want to marry Harry after all,” Ginny rolled her eyes.
“I understand the feeling, although I don’t think it’s that deep-seated,” Draco smiled back at Ginny.
“You think Granger will run back to my brother?” Ginny asked, taking another sip of her wine, and Hermione huffed.
“Fuck no. Holding onto something once you’ve got it, that’s more terrifying than never having it at all,” Draco remarked, glancing between Ginny and Hermione. Both of them blushed.
The servers brought out fresh glasses and cleared the plates, Blaise cleared his throat as the staff waited with the bottles of what looked like rosé, keeping the labels turned toward them.
“Next we are trying a blend, this is the first batch ever made. I’ve overseen the entire process, spending a lot of time back and forth, and during my time over Christmas. This wine is very special to me.” Blaise paused. “Because I created this wine for you, Ginevra,” Blaise finished, looking over at Ginny.
Hermione's eyes widened as she observed her friend's reaction.
“It’s a rosé, made from Lagrein grapes. It has this beautiful strawberry, and raspberry hint on the nose, but when you dig deeper, the grapes pull you into dark fruit flavors, with notes of spice. I call it ‘Venus’,” Blaise finished, and Ginny's jaw dropped, her eyes sparkling in the setting sun, her lip quivering over her glass. Draco shifted beside Hermione, sporting a smug look on his face.
“It will be paired with a charcuterie board, with local cured meats, soft cheeses, and summer berries covered in dark chocolate,” Blaise continued, looking around the table as the food was brought out and the wine poured, revealing the label—a sketch of a woman on the front, with a striking resemblance to Ginny.
Ginny grabbed the arm of a server to get a closer look at the bottle.
“Oh, you are getting shagged so hard tonight,” Ginny said boldly.
“Please, for Merlin's sake, cast a powerful silencing charm,” Draco scoffed, and Hermione couldn't help but laugh.
The fifth course was served with another glass of wine and a triple-layer chocolate ganache dessert, Hermione felt her cheeks redden and her jaw ache from laughing and smiling so much.
Even Ginny and Draco seemed to be getting along, discussing Quidditch and the trades of players. Blaise asked Hermione about the cutoff for the upcoming internships, and she told him it might be a last-minute call.
The last course reminded her of Ron and Harry, and she knew Ginny was thinking the same thing.
“This is bloody delicious. If Ron were here, I think he’d die and go to dessert heaven,” Ginny laughed.
“Speaking of, what were your brother and Potter doing this Easter?” Blaise asked, glancing toward Draco as if they had been waiting for this topic.
“Ronald told me that he, Theo, and potentially Harry were taking Parkinson into Diagon Alley to view some spaces for a store she wanted to open, and that was pretty much the end of it,” Hermione said to the table. She and Ron were newly on speaking terms, so they kept their conversations about their respective partners minimal if they could.
“So the four of them? Potter, Nott, Parkinson, and Weasley, they’re all together then?” Blaise asked coolly.
“Zabini, are we going to do this now? We're having a nice evening,” Draco said under his breath.
“What are you talking about?” Hermione looked between them, confused —Draco's face illuminated by the setting sun.
“We are going to have nice evenings all weekend, Malfoy. We should talk about this now,” Blaise said back.
“Blaise, what the hell are you on about?” Ginny interrupted.
“We’ve known Nott our entire lives... I think Theo will use this weekend to convince Potter, Parkinson, and Weasley to form an alliance in the final hunt. We all understand the rules; McGonagall laid them out clearly. He knows us four are the biggest competitors, and I believe we should not only be prepared for them to be all working together as allies, but I also think we should too,” Blaise said, looking at Draco, who let out a long, reluctant huff.
“That’s mad, Harry and Ron wouldn’t go for it,” Hermione said quickly without really thinking.
“They wouldn’t?” Draco asked, moving his chair closer to her.
“Hermione…” Ginny pressed as if she were weighing the options.
“It wouldn’t make much sense to form alliances; in the end, it’s each team for themselves,” Hermione mentioned again.
“Yes, but if us four can work together to slow down the rest - divide and conquer, then we can then split up and… well… to the last pair standing…” Zabini said, taking a calculated drink.
“I honestly just can’t see Harry and Ron going along with it, Harry especially, he’s above plotting” Hermione reiterated.
“Granger… how much help did Potter get with the Triwizard Tournament?” Draco asked, looking at Hermione with those swirling grey eyes.
“That was different; some of those challenges could have killed him,” Hermione replied.
“How much help?” Draco asked again.
“The fake Moody may have given some clues, Hagrid, and then Cedric…” Hermione admitted, taking another drink, feeling like she had betrayed some secret.
“How much did you and Weasley help?” Draco continued probing.
“As much as we could,” Hermione admitted.
“Gin, honestly… some help here?” she appealed to Ginny.
“I think we should do it. Ron and Harry will work together if they can,” Ginny said, and Hermione felt floored.
Would Ron and Harry think of them as much of a threat?
“It feels wrong even talking about it, I’m plotting against my best friends,” Hermione said loudly between the table.
“We’re plotting against ours. It’s the entire reason I’m positive that this conversation has already been had, miles away. Theo will sell it, and if Potter and Weasley really want to win, they’d agree. It’s a competition. We’re all playing to win, let’s give ourselves a better edge,” Blaise countered.
“You honestly think Nott would convince them?” Hermione turned to ask Draco.
“I don’t think Nott would need to do all that much convincing,” he replied swiftly.
“Gin... that’s your brother?” Hermione pressed.
“That’s exactly why I know he’ll do it. He knows I’d do anything to win, he hates Malfoy, and I don’t think he gives Zabini much thought, and he knows you inside and out,” Ginny admitted.
“Don’t, please... remind me that Weasley knows her inside and out,” Draco cringed.
“If we decide we want to ally, what does that look like?” Hermione asked, giving in slightly.
“Nott loves his pros and cons lists, which means he would have already ripped apart our strengths and weaknesses. We need to know theirs,” Draco answered.
“You don’t know Theo and Pansy’s?” Hermione questioned incredulously.
“Of course we do, but you don’t, and we don’t know Potter and Weasleys,” Zabini answered.
“You want to know Harry and Ron’s strengths?” Ginny asked.
“Well, I don’t think Weasley has any, but Potter’s... yes,” Draco answered, Ginny was about to defend her brother, but Hermione stepped in.
“Don’t discount Ronald. If what you both are saying is true, Ron will already be mapping out this night in his head. Ron is a strategist; he’ll play all of us, faking out a left when he actually goes right. He’ll be steps ahead. It’s not just about knowing more spells or being faster for him; it’s a game, and he’ll play it. He also has brute strength on his side; a backfire jinx from Ron’s wand almost crushed my ribs once when we were practicing dueling,” Hermione said, and Draco stared at her calculating, just like Zabini.
Fucking Slytherins.
“Perfect, perfect, Granger. That’s what we need to know,” Zabini said sitting back in his chair and taking another deep sip of wine.
“Potter?” Draco asked.
“Besides being the boy who brought down Voldemort?” Ginny laughed.
“Half of that was Granger, your brother, your family, Dumbledore, and the Order of the Phoenix. What are his strengths alone, without backup?” Draco replied.
“Harry is the best at defensive spells. Honestly, he could teach the class and put Jones to shame. But since we aren’t allowed to use dark magic, small hexes, and jinxes—other than a Protego— he won’t know what else to do. He spent a lot of time on defense; his offensive spells aren’t as strong,” Ginny replied, and Hermione shook her head in agreement.
“But he’ll have Nott with him... I remember the vision in the mirror, Draco,” Hermione said coolly.
“Out of Parkinson and Nott, Nott is our biggest threat,” Zabini answered.
“I’m not scared of Theo,” Draco said in a shrug.
“We aren’t scared of any of them, Malfoy, but it doesn’t mean they don’t have the ability to take us out of the game,” Ginny interjected,
Finally, the night sky around them began to be illuminated with stars.
“You just need to mirror Nott’s behavior with your own; he hates seeing himself in that light,” Draco answered reluctantly.
“Parkinson?” Hermione asked.
“Pans... Our sweet Pans,” Zabini chuckled.
“She’s cleverer than people give her credit for, and she uses that to her advantage. She knows it won’t work on us, but she may try to use it against you two. And her transfiguration is the best I’ve ever seen, almost at McGonagall's level,” Draco added.
“Are we considering Neville and Daphne?” Ginny asked, and Blaise and Draco shared a glance.
“Not at this moment. I don’t know Longbottom well, but we know Daph... and well... in order to still be kind, she’s not the brightest flame under a cauldron,” Blaise finished.
“Who do we need to slow down first?” Ginny asked.
“We should start with Parkinson and Ron, get them out of the way... then we focus on Theo and Potter. If you both think that Weasley will be mapping out the plan, we need to shut it down from the start,” Draco said.
“Harry and Theo won’t be able to reorganize as quickly. Nott will retake the role, but Harry is too hot-headed,” Ginny added.
“Aren’t all you Gryffindors?” Zabini laughed, and Hermione and Ginny didn’t bother to protest; he wasn’t wrong.
Hermione had been quiet. She understood that if she wanted to win, she might need to play slightly dirty, and she needed to win.
She still hadn’t talked to Draco about her doubts about using the Chalice for her parents and refocusing on his life and their future.
“Zabini, you think that’s enough for the night?” Draco interrupted as Hermione stifled back a yawn.
“Right, we’re headed into town tomorrow morning, so don’t stay up too much longer,” Zabini said as he stood and offered Ginny his hand, to which she stood immediately and wriggled her eyebrows at Hermione, who laughed.
“We’ll talk about this tomorrow?” Zabini said, nodding toward the two of them.
“Goodnight,” he finished, and Ginny echoed his words, giggling as they walked quickly upstairs, leaving Hermione and Draco to sit in the moonlight together.
She pressed the rim of the glass to her lips, savoring the tartness of the wine.
“You don’t like it, do you?” Draco asked, his eyes fixed like he was deciphering a rune.
“Not particularly,” she admitted.
“I watched Weasley beg for your life,” Draco started, and Hermione’s head spun, not understanding where this conversation was going.
“Dr-“ she began, and he cut through her.
“I watched him beg for your life, in exchange for his. That image, that day, will haunt me forever. I hate Weasley, you know that. But it’s the bravest thing I’ve ever seen anyone do for someone they love -which makes me hate him even more. Potter... you’ve saved countless times; you’ve been there for him when nobody else was. I’ve always watched you three... so as an outsider looking in, I have to think to myself…. If Weasley would put his life on the line for yours, what lengths would he go to to win for Pansy? If Potter could save someone else, to be what you were for someone else, what lengths would he go to for Theo? They’d be asking themselves the same questions….about me, what I’d do for you….about you, and what you’d do for me..” Draco looked into her, and she gulped in understanding.
“You are the entire reason for my soul’s redemption. I will never live down what I’ve done, and what I’ve said to you, or your friends... but if I can do one good thing in this life, it will be to win this Chalice for you...You are my only priority in this final hunt, and I will take out my best friends, and yours if it means that I can give you more happiness...I’m madly in love with you, Hermione... I could rip out my heart, and it would only still beat in your hands,” Draco admitted in such a low tone.
"I love you, Draco..." Hermione whispered, resting her forehead against his, her heart pounding with the magnitude of admitting it.
It was a decision she had agonized over for so long, but now, her body, her soul, her heart, it was his.
"You’re a good man, you deserve this life, just as much as anyone else,”
“No, I don’t... but fuck, you make me feel like I might,” he murmured, and his lips were on hers, his hands around her waist as he hauled her body onto his lap like a rag doll, his touch hungry. Her head rolled back as she let the skin of her neck be exposed to him, his lips trailing along her jugular.
“I love you,” he pressed another kiss into her neck, his hand running up her torso over the linen of her dress as her legs wrapped around him.
“It feels so fucking good to say it, I love you, Hermione,” he kissed again in a groan, and she heard herself whimper, melting into a pool.
“Draco... we should...” she urged, as he gripped the ribs under her breasts and squeezed.
“Go upstairs?” he asked as he stood, his arms wrapped firmly around her body, lifting her like she weighed nothing.
“You can’t carry me like this,” she laughed.
“Who said anything about walking? I’m not waiting that long,” he growled and turned on the spot with a crack, and in a split second of suction, she landed directly onto the luxurious king bed, her body bouncing underneath his from the weight of the Apparition.
“Will you bounce on me like that?” he asked as he licked his lips.
“Only if you ask politely,” she bit down on the lip he had just licked, sucking on it, tasting the residual wine.
“Ohhhh... I can be so polite,” Draco groaned, as her dress disappeared from underneath her. She hadn’t even seen him grab his wand or utter the words.
Draco moved his hands up her thighs, caressing every inch as he parted them. Hermione let them hang down loosely as she spread herself for him.
“Beautiful...” he whispered as he stared down, examining the nakedness of her body.
“Is that you being polite?” she laughed as he moved his head slowly between her legs and began to kiss the insides of her thighs—soft kisses, then longer ones as he made his way over to her clit.
“No... it’s the truth...” he whispered.
“Fuck...” she let out in a breathy groan.
Draco was a master with his mouth, she couldn’t deny it, like he had practiced over and over to ensure that both he and Hermione could get off from his swirling tongue—long, flat licks, then a quick swirl around her bundle of nerves.
Each time she felt the heat from him swell, and a knotted pleasure formed in her core.
“I want to be on top,” she pushed through a breathy moan, and she did. She felt this pulsating desire to watch the pleasure on his face and take total control.
Draco gave her a smirk, wiping the excess saliva from his mouth with the back of his forearm.
Some twisted part of Hermione got turned on watching her arousal mixed with Draco’s spit being dragged across the serpent's head of his Dark Mark as if he was using it as a healing salve.
He lay back on the bed, his chest rising and falling, and his eyes never leaving her body. His arms were tucked behind his head as if he were getting ready for a show.
Gods, he was hot.
She straddled him, both her thighs pressing against his waist.
She reached down to align herself with him, dragging the tip of his cock deliciously slow through the folds of her soaked pussy and balancing herself on his chest as she watched his eyelids become heavy.
“Fuck…how much longer will you tease me?” he groaned out, as she let the tip slip slightly deeper than before. His hands slid down to her thighs, his thumb stroking her already overly sensitive clit.
She had only been on top of him like this a few times. The size of his cock—it filled her like nothing else would.
It was a pleasure and painful cocktail that drove her to the edge of madness anytime he hit the decadent spot deep inside her.
“Take your time,” he gritted out, but Hermione felt it a challenge and drove herself downward onto his cock completely.
He was huge and so hard she could feel the pulsating of the blood coursing through him, and the pain of him hitting the back of her cunt almost took her breath away.
She rose slightly just to feel the wetness of her pussy sliding against him, and he dug his fingers into her thighs as she watched his eyes roll into his head.
She did it again, this time taking him deeper, feeling the base of his cock hit her clit.
Fuck, she liked it, and he let out some type of breathy word that she didn’t understand.
But it fueled her want.
She felt so fucking sexy on top of him like this, watching him strain through the satisfaction she was giving him.
It was a demented thought, but she thought it anyway. She felt a sadistic form of revenge watching the boy she used to hate cave completely to her, knowing it was her body that was doing it to him. She loved making him cum so hard that he made no sense, shouting profanities, his pureblood etiquette gone under the wetness of her cunt.
“Does that feel good, Draco?” she moaned, as she paused, savoring the fullness, then slowly raising herself back up. His eyes shot up to hers, and she could tell she was driving him fucking wild.
“God fucking damn, you know it does…..You know you feel fucking fantastic,” he exhaled as if it were taking everything he had to control himself.
“I like to hear you say it,” she moaned back.
She repeated the rhythm, bouncing herself up and down over him - his grip loosened on her thighs as if he were succumbing to the release.
She kept letting herself grind on him with each downward movement, bringing herself closer to orgasm. The tip of his cock clutched the inside of her that she needed it too. She repeated the movement at an aggressive pace- craving the feeling.
“If you keep doing that, Granger, I’m going to cum in that pretty pussy of yours,” he said in a raggedy breath.
“I thought this pretty pussy was yours anyway,” she moaned back, and his eyes shot open again to meet hers, and he looked like a ravenous wolf.
“You’re fucking right it is,” Draco panted, and he moved his hand through the soaked mess that connected them.
Hermione watched as he turned his signet ring slightly on his finger and pressed it directly into her clit, the cold metal shooting through the heat of her edging orgasm like ice against a poker.
“Draco,” was all she could manage, the feeling overpowering as he rubbed his ring into her clit harder, branding her.
"Your cunt is mine, Granger,"
She fucking loved it.
She was sick.
She loved being his.
He was matching her downward stroke with a forceful thrust upward. She reached down and grabbed his wrist from her core, bringing his hand closer to her face.
Hermione opened her mouth, and let her tongue guide his hand. She began to suck on his finger, the finger he wore that fucking ring on. She paid special attention to the engravings, savoring her own taste.
“Fucking hell…my good girl” he growled as he began pumping faster and harder underneath her.
She wanted to cum all over him.
She was waiting for him to make her unravel.
She needed it, needed him.
Loved him.
She rode him faster, her head tilted back, her curls and breasts bouncing.
He was transfixed.
“Hermione... if you keep doing that…” he blurted in a strangled voice.
It only made her bounce harder. She felt him pumping into her, and she felt his cock grow inside her, like a heartbeat, pounding on her wet walls.
She was so close.
A few more moments, a few more strokes, and she erupted, shaking on top of him, moaning his name as his hands caught her waist and he guided her through the last few thrusts of her orgasm, completely limp, hands on his chest to steady herself. He finally had his out, and he kept taking her, needing to finish.
“Fuck....Hermione,”
She loved hearing him call her name.
Ginny woke early, the sunlight streaming in and hitting her face. Zabini slept beside her, but she was too excited to fall back asleep.
Everything about her first night here felt amazing—the wine, the dinner. The fact that Blaise had spent months preparing a rosé, for her. She was deliriously happy.
She padded down the spiral steps to the kitchen, the villa already a kaleidoscope of yellow and orange hues, the breeze warm.
She started a pot of coffee and leaned against the counter, looking out the window toward the mountains, savoring this moment. When she heard footsteps, she looked up to see Draco Malfoy staring directly back at her, in a white t-shirt and grey sweatpants.
“Morning,” he said, almost surprised to see her there as if he hadn’t expected anyone else to be awake.
“Morning,”
She didn’t think that she had ever been alone with Malfoy before.
Sure, they were friendly enough when they were drinking or there was a group of them. In those moments, she could almost forget she was talking to, well... Draco Malfoy.
But now, the silence in the kitchen was almost deafening as they both seemed to be watching the eruption of the coffee pot, waiting for it to be ready.
A lot of Zabini’s villa was muggle, and she wasn’t in a rush, so she waited for her coffee like a muggle, rather than using a flick of her wand.
Now, she realized it was a mistake.
She could hear the ticking of the clock, and the dripping of the faucet. It was just cold silence between them.
“Did you have a good sleep?” she asked, needing to fill the uncomfortable void.
“It was alright. I didn’t expect anyone to be up this early,” he said quickly.
“Neither did I,” she quipped back as the coffee continued to brew.
“You don’t like me very much, do you?” she asked, feeling there was no better time to ask.
If it was going to be awkward, she might as well lean into it.
“What makes you think that?” he asked back, clearly startled.
“Literally everything you’ve ever said or done, to me and my family, up until you started dating Hermione,” she asked, feeling it was important to address the hippogriff in the room.
“Weasley... are we really going to have this conversation over morning coffee?” he asked back.
“Better than over wine, right?” she smiled, and he nodded. “Fair point,”
“I don’t dislike you, honestly, and I don’t dislike your family... I wouldn’t rush after saving the Weasel if he were on fire, but that has nothing to do with the rest of you, and more to do with me,” he added.
“That’s contradictive to how you’ve acted my entire life,” she pushed.
“I’m sorry...” he began, but she cut him off.
“I’m not asking for an apology. I’m trying to understand the change of mind” She rounded back at him, as the timer on the coffee pot finally dinged.
She passed a cup over to him, and he nodded at her.
“Your family were blood traitors, muggle lovers... My father told me my whole life that no respectable wizarding family could be those things. Like all young boys, you look up to your father and respect him, and his views. Your father was never fooled by mine, he always saw through him….. Anyway, when I was told to befriend Potter, to get information on him in the first year of Hogwarts, and he chose to befriend your brother instead, it went against everything I had ever been told, and so began...”
“Years of bullying?” Ginny finished for him, trying hard to feel any type of empathy for him.
“Don’t act like you all didn’t get your blows in too. Potter gave me these…” Draco said pulling down the collar of his shirt “And I remember a punch in the jaw from George after Quidditch in fifth year, another from Ron during the Battle of Hogwarts, and again this year, and an awful vile Bat-Bogey Hex from you in Umbridge’s office,” he continued.
“You started almost all of those,” Ginny replied.
“I’m not saying I didn’t deserve it, but you weren’t helpless either,” Draco answered coldly.
“Do you love her?” Ginny asked as the sunlight began to hit her face.
“I’d bleed out for her,” he answered directly.
“You don’t need to be dramatic. A simple yes or no would do,” she added, watching Draco smirk.
“It’s not a simple yes or no. I tried to pretend I didn’t have these feelings for her... knowing everything I had done to her, to her friends, family... I know I don’t deserve this…. deserve her. If you believe nothing else, or that I don’t regret how I treated your family, then believe that I do love Hermione, more than I’ve loved anyone in my life,” Draco finished
Ginny stared at him, taking a sip of her coffee. She had never heard anything of the sort come from his mouth, it was authentic- raw.
It looked like Draco was about to walk out, about to leave her in her small moment of peace, but he rounded back toward the door.
“I also think it’s mental that you still let Potter play Seeker... Sure, naturally he may be the better player, but you put in the work, and train harder, it’s obvious... You don’t rely on habits; you move based on your opponents… You should be Seeker.. and it’s bothered me all year,” he said quickly, and Ginny felt herself stunned at the compliment.
“Morning, Malfoy,” Zabini’s voice roared from the hallway before he rounded into the kitchen to see Ginny.
“I was wondering where you went,” he smiled between the two of them, surely sensing the tension.
“Granger up yet? I can’t wait to show you how ridiculous Draco looks on a Vespa,” Blaise added.
“I do love it when Malfoy looks like an idiot. Call it cathartic,” she smiled at Draco, who looked back at her quickly.
“If you want to be like that, Weasley, I think your rosé was shit,” Draco shot back in a joking tone, and Ginny laughed into her mug.
“That’s actually a slight on me, mate!” Blaise roared as Draco walked back up the hallway with a second cup of coffee in hand.
Chapter 51: Nott's Pool Party
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“Have you spoken with Theo yet today?” Pansy asked as she sat down beside Draco in the Great Hall.
It had been a hell of a two weeks since they had returned from Easter. All seventh and eighth years were swamped with coursework. Even Draco couldn’t seem to pull himself out of the library chair and Granger was his cruel dictating overlord with her schedules, workbooks, and to-do lists. If he didn’t love her so much, he might toss the whole lot into the lake, along with himself.
The heavy workload also seemed to be working as a distraction from all the gossiping about who was sleeping with whom, a welcome fucking relief.
Although when he was walking alone, he heard weak jabs, he felt they were becoming rather unoriginal, and boring, the same old stuff. He thought maybe someone would come up with something new to throw at him, but that would be asking too much from the general moronic population of the school.
“You’ll have to be more specific; Nott talks at me every day,” Draco said back sharply. He didn’t mean to; he was just exhausted.
“He wants everyone to come over to his Estate on Saturday night for a party,” Pansy explained.
“Who is everyone? And why is Theo taking it upon himself to throw a party in the middle of the busiest time of the school year?” Draco growled.
“That’s exactly why he is throwing it. We’ve all been buried. I think we can take one day off to relax a bit. And by everyone, I think he’s invited Potter, both Weasleys, Zabini, you, and Granger,” Pansy said quickly.
“Fucking hell, is this going to become a thing? I don’t want this to become a thing. Half of us don’t even get along,” Draco muttered.
“You mean… you and Weasley don’t get along, because if I remember correctly, you spent Christmas with Potter, and a weekend in Italy with Ginny, so you can’t dislike either of them that much,” Pansy added.
“It’s not just me…. I don’t think your boyfriend likes Blaise, and I’m positive Zabini and Potter aren’t going to be best mates anytime soon,” Draco retorted.
“They tolerate each other. It’s only you and Ron who make immature jabs,” Pansy rolled her eyes.
Draco just rolled his eyes back at her. “I doubt Granger will agree to go. She only allows me breaks to eat, bathe, and shag her. For some reason, the bossiness that comes out of her this time of year really turns me on,” Draco smirked to himself at that last line.
“Lovely revelation about yourself there, but she’s already agreed to go,” Pansy said in a final huff as she sat up and was about to walk away.
“Fuck, she has?!” he roared after her.
He'd need to find Hermione.
Hermione had bloody agreed to go, she said that Theo had been unrelenting in his begging for their presence, and Draco had to grit and bear it.
Although he didn’t mind the idea of drowning some of the stress of completing these assignments, on top of the pressure to win the final hunt in the following week, with a bottle of fire whiskey and an actual king-sized bed with Granger in it at the end of it all.
What surprised Draco even more was how Theo got McGonagall to go along with it. Even though their weekends were free, the curfew was 8:00 PM to be back in the school. Theo said the curfew should only apply to students visiting Hogsmeade and not their homes however he had sweet-talked or manipulated her; it had worked.
McGonagall did refuse to connect a direct Floo line, stating she didn’t need a repeat of when she had let them go into Diagon Alley for their fittings.
So, Draco and Hermione had to walk to the bottom of the grounds before they could Apparate.
Annoyed, he tramped behind her, determined to arrive slightly late.
He was not going to let this become a fucking thing, regardless of how much Theo pressed it or how much Pansy pressed it.
They weren’t going to become one big happy fucking friend group just because their respective partners were hooking up with each other's friends.
Had it become slightly incestuous? Yes. But Draco was determined to not let it happen.
Fuck, this had been the point of the goddamned Unity Project.
As much as Draco rejected it- thought it was bloody horrendous, stupid, and a waste of time, he wouldn’t let the Ministry win. He wouldn’t let them call this a goddamn success, even though… it might have been.
"You are acting slightly ridiculous, you know. It’s just a party, and I think it would be good for all of us to actually hang out with each other. I barely see Ginny or Harry or Ron lately because I’m always with you or they are always with their partners... What Theo is doing is nice," Hermione turned to him.
"See, that’s the thing I worry about because Nott isn’t nice. So, this little party he is hosting, it’s not just out of kindness, I can assure you," Draco growled.
"You used to hang out, slumming it up, boozing, womanizing with Nott, Zabini, and Parkinson all summer, and now, whenever he invites us around, you have a problem with it?" she challenged, stepping past the great boars on the gates.
"You love to throw the womanizer in there, don’t you?" he smirked back at her.
"Together?" she reached out her hands toward his, and he grabbed them, pulling her in closer, wrapping his arms around her waist.
"What if I took you to the Manor instead, spent the night in my room? I’ll get champagne... perhaps some chocolate, or whipped cream…….or London again? Whatever you want…" he tried one last time, and Hermione gave him a knowing look before spinning on the spot.
Draco landed hard on the ground, Hermione still in his grasp, as they looked up toward Nott’s Estate, the entirety of it lit up.
He had to give it to Theo; since his father died, he had spent reckless amounts of money and time reimagining the entire home, making it into something almost unrecognizable from the darkness that used to cover the walls.
Draco envied it.
He wasn’t sure if his mother would let him do the same. His father would likely be in prison for the remainder of his life or at least another twenty or thirty years. Draco wasn’t even all that sure he wanted to live in the Manor; he had liked his London flat. Since he was looking to buy another, he and Granger could stay there, live there.
Then what would become of his ancestral home? Theo had completely changed what his ancestral home meant to him, and any future generations of Notts...
Could Draco do the same?
"Ah, Hermione, Draco, you’re the last to arrive, I had galleons on that" Theo greeted them with a smutty grin as they entered his home.
Hermione appeared fascinated by Theo’s collection of artworks and the relaxed atmosphere he had cultivated. It was clear to Draco that Theo had put considerable effort into creating this non-stuffy ambiance, despite the appearance of effortlessness.
Draco heard the loud music and voices coming from the atrium as they made their way inside, he watched the familiar surroundings that had once been the Slytherin’s favorite spot during hot summer days.
The wrap-around bar, poker tables, and wizarding chess set brought back memories—some fond, some best left forgotten. They had spent countless hours here, indulging in drinks and distractions, trying to escape their troubles rather than confront them.
He scanned the room. Pansy and Weasley were standing at the far bar, her laughter in response to something he must have said, the Weasel's eyes seemed to be locked on her.
Blaise and Ginny, along with Potter, were engaged in conversation at a poker table. Draco could only guess it was about Quidditch.
He noticed the absence of Longbottom or Greengrass, assuming Theo had extended the invitation and Daphne hadn't accepted. Probably due to the fact the poker table against which Zabini leaned was where Draco had shagged her months ago.
How the idiot thought that could turn into love was beyond him.
Although he was certain that if it had been Granger that had allowed him to fuck her on a poker table or even a damned park bench, in any universe, he probably would have been just as smitten as he was now.
Hermione made her way over to where Harry, Ginny, and Blaise were standing, and Draco sauntered over to Theo, who was smiling as he looked around the room.
"What's all this, Theo? Why are you pushing so hard?" Draco asked quickly, leaning in beside his friend.
"Pushing what exactly? Just having my boyfriend and his friends, along with my friends, all hanging out together?" Theo smirked back.
"Pushing a Ministry agenda... the whole nonsense about Unity... I thought the days of you and I doing anything for the Ministry were over," Draco said darkly, and Theo's head snapped to attention.
They hadn't talked about that night, not since... well…the night that Theo had snapped.
"Coming from the man who is going to be an Auror?" Theo shot back, and Draco had no idea how Theo had found out.
"How'd you know that? I only had one meeting with Kingsley. I haven't agreed to anything," Draco looked back, wondering if Potter or Weasley had known.
"I go through your desk drawers sometimes when you're out of your room," Theo shrugged.
“Nott, what the fuck?” Draco spat.
"I'm joking, you left the letter out on the desk once... I didn't see much, just glanced over it. I'm surprised you even took a meeting with Kingsley. Do you think it's wise for either of us to get mixed up in that again?"
"Those documents and files are locked, under the highest security. Plus, Kingsley wants me on an elite team," Draco said through gritted teeth.
"Oh, so this time they'll pay you to be an assassin?" Theo looked at him, delivering a gut punch, and Theo knew it.
"I wouldn't have had to be one at all if you had kept it together...” Draco snapped
“Really nice party, Nott, I love the delusion you’ve created here for yourself..." Draco stalked off.
What the fuck did Theo think he was saying or doing?
Kingsley had promised, under oath, to protect that information from getting out. The wizarding community would go after their necks if those files were leaked.
If any information were to be leaked, Theo and Draco could end up in Azkaban, and Kingsley could be stripped of Minister and replaced by someone who had pushed hard for them all to be imprisoned. That information needed to stay buried. The files on the Carrows, Dolohov, Rowle, and the rest still needed to be active missing criminals cases in the Auror office. If Draco joined, he could ensure it.
He looked over at Hermione, the way she was laughing and smiling, he couldn’t fucking lose that.
The small house-elf appeared at Draco's side. Peechy was a welcomed face as Draco grabbed a cocktail that Theo seemed to be passing around.
It looked like gin, with some elderflower, maybe?
Raspberries?
There was a taste Draco couldn't place, but the room seemed to be enjoying it, so Draco continued drinking.
"Alright, we're going to play a little game! Everyone, come out onto the deck!" Theo roared, and Hermione looked back and gave him a small wave as they walked to the outside patio with lounge chairs and thick pillows.
Theo had clearly cast a warming charm, as sitting on the pool deck, listening to the water feature under the moonlight, was reminiscent of summer.
"What's the bloody game, Nott?" Zabini huffed jokingly as he and Ginny took their seats.
Hermione nestled in closely to Draco as they both settled into an oversized lounger. He noticed Weasley's eyes flash over momentarily as he lazily threw his arm around Granger.
"Truth or Dare," Theo said, eliciting a groan.
"Theo, we can't play that. You three especially... things tend to get out of hand," Pansy said, eyeing Nott, Zabini, and, to Draco's internal amusement, himself.
"We're all trying to get along a bit better. Why not play it the Slytherin way?" Potter defended Theo, to Draco's surprise.
"This is why you are quite annoyingly perfect, Potter," Theo said, leaning over and kissing Harry on the lips. Harry blushed.
It was the first time Draco had ever seen them kiss, which was odd.
"I've never played... how do you know if the person who selects truth isn't lying? It seems faulty," Ron burst out, and Draco had the horrifying revelation that he knew exactly why the cocktail he had just sipped tasted odd, yet familiar.
"Fucking hell, Theo!" Draco roared
Theo laughed. "Draco has figured it out!"
"Figured what out?" Ron looked puzzled.
"The answer to your question, Weasley. What keeps people honest in this game," Theo answered. "I've put Veritaserum in all your cocktails," he smiled.
An outcry from the group ensued.
Weasley looked green, and Pansy and Zabini both rolled their eyes; like Draco, it had been no surprise to them.
Ginny let out a small laugh of disbelief, Harry looked like he regretted backing up his boyfriend, and Hermione seemed outraged at the act of deception.
"Since I'm the host, I'll start," Theo smirked and looked around the group.
"Potter, truth or dare," Theo smiled toward Harry, who looked apprehensive.
"Ah, dare... I guess," he answered.
"Perfect... I dare you to jump into the pool stark naked," Theo said, smiling, and Harry groaned.
"You couldn't have let me have a few more of these first?" Harry laughed, shaking his drink.
"I mean, we've seen most of it at Halloween anyway, mate," Zabini said, stifling a laugh, and Harry shot back a look of disdain toward a giggling Ginny.
"I can close my eyes, right? I don't have to watch?" Weasley said with a grimace
"Whatever works, Weasley," Theo snapped, and Potter stood up, chugging the drink in front of them and walking toward the edge of the pool.
He stripped stark naked and jumped in, eliciting laughter and grimaces. Hermione laughed grimly and looked away, and Draco kept his eyes on her as if to say, "I told you so."
Potter emerged sopping wet from the pool and finally covered himself up, casting a drying charm, he sat down beside Theo with a grin that seemed too massive for someone who had just exposed themselves to the group.
Harry looked around at everyone and dove back into the game.
"Parkinson, truth or dare?" Harry asked, and Pansy squinted in contemplation.
"Truth..." she said slowly.
"Who made the first move, you or Ron?" Harry asked, and Draco glanced over, hating that he was intrigued by the question.
Pansy hadn't really mentioned it, and Draco always assumed it was the Weasel, but the churning behind her eyes, the tightness of her mouth, and the smug look on Weasley's face suggested otherwise.
"Fuck," Pansy bit out, as if she couldn't stifle it any longer.
"I did. I made the first move," she admitted, and there was a collective gasp.
"I told you, mate. I don't know why you didn't believe me," Weasley retorted to Harry.
"How, Parkinson?" Blaise asked with a sly grin, and Draco even noticed a small sliver of laughter on Hermione's face.
"Yeah, Parkinson, how?" Weasley urged, and she shot him a murderous look.
"I said, Weasley, do you want to fuck me," Pansy said matter-of-factly, the serum edging the truth to her tongue.
"And I did, obviously," Ron interjected, rubbing his girlfriend's back kindly after her embarrassment.
"Gross," Ginny spat, Hermione gave a small shudder and Draco let out a laugh, as did the remainder of them.
"Christ, Parkinson, forward as ever," Zabini said, almost in tears.
"You're all twats," Pansy said, looking unabashed and eyeing the room.
"Ginny, Truth or Dare?" Pansy asked quickly.
"Truth," Ginny answered.
"Who is the best flyer in the room, besides yourself, Is it your boyfriend, your brother, your ex-boyfriend, or Malfoy?" Pansy said, looking delighted with herself, and Ginny went slightly red.
"Malfoy," Ginny said easily, and Draco turned his head toward her in shock.
She wasn't wrong, but he didn't think she thought it.
"It's good to see someone in this room with some sense," he quipped, while Harry, Blaise, and Ron looked taken aback.
"Malfoy? Really, Ginevra?" Blaise said back.
"He's the best flyer. Ron is sloppy, Harry's goal is speed not precision, and you, love, are boisterous. You ride your broom like you ride your Vespa," Ginny answered, her face getting redder for the truth.
"Give the girl a break. It's not her fault she's just being honest," Draco said back, a smug grin on his face.
Maybe he did like this game after all. Hermione nudged him slightly, but the warmth in her cheeks was spreading. He knew that look. She was getting slightly tipsy as the cocktails kept coming.
"I can't believe nobody has preyed on Theo yet. Truth or dare, Nott?" Ginny asked, and Theo laughed.
"I'll make things interesting... Dare," Theo smiled, clearly aware that Ginny had hoped he would pick truth. Draco was sure Theo knew that too.
"Alright. I dare you to snog Hermione," Ginny said, and Theo's eyes widened.
"Nope, touch her and you die, Nott," Draco rounded, pulling Hermione closer into his lap.
"Seems there is an obstacle in the way of my dare, Weasley," Theo smiled.
"Oh, come off it, Malfoy. Just let Theo kiss her," Zabini chuckled.
"You want Nott kissing Red?" Draco rounded.
"Draco, it's fine…. Come here, Theo, a little peck on the lips," Hermione said, and Draco felt himself fume.
He'd need to remind her later tonight whose lips those were.
Theo leaned close, and Draco's eyes were deathly fixed on his. Theo lunged in with a quick kiss and flew back. Draco was sure that Theo knew not to push his luck.
"Nott, are you that terrified of Malfoy?" Blaise laughed.
"I didn't feel like being strangled in my sleep... even though everyone here knows that as lovely as you are, Granger..."
"I’m not your cup of tea?" Hermione laughed back in response.
"Exactly... who hasn't gone yet?" Theo pondered, looking around the backyard "Weasley," Theo smiled.
"Bloody hell... I'll do truth," Weasley said reluctantly.
"What's the naughtiest thing you and Parkinson have done?" Theo asked, and Ginny groaned.
Internally, so did Draco. Pansy looked the shade of a boiled lobster.
"I'm so sorry, Pans..." Weasley began, trying to hold back the truth as hard as he could, which made the rest of them laugh harder.
"Pansy waited for me in the alcove outside Transfiguration, in a slutty version of her uniform, tied up and gagged, and I had to rescue her. My reward for saving her was fucking her against the wall, pretending the villain got to watch.." Ron admitted, looking horrified.
The entire room looked slightly stunned, and Pansy looked like she wanted to die.
Honestly, it was kinkier than Draco had ever expected.
"Blaise, I'm going to need you to Oblivate that from my memory," Ginny said.
"Oh my god..." Hermione ended up being the first to burst out laughing. "I'm so sorry.....it’s just so uncomfortable to picture.." she continued in her truth, and everyone else burst into laughter.
"Do you always dress up, Pans, or enjoy spectators because you’ve never asked me to watch," Theo chuckled, and Harry gave him an eye roll.
"No... Ron and I like playing a damsel in distress, and he's my hero, and we like the thrill of being caught, not watched" Pansy said through gritted teeth.
"That actually makes a lot of sense," Harry added with a laugh.
"Fucking hell... I hate this game," Ron rolled his eyes, and Draco couldn't help but stifle another laugh.
"Zabini... truth or dare," Ron said as another round of cocktails was being passed.
Draco was feeling his buzz, heavier than before; these were strong drinks.
"Dare," Blaise said quickly.
"Because I don't want to know or see anything to do with my sister... I dare you to chug this entire bottle of champagne," Ron said quickly, passing the bottle over to Blaise.
"The whole bottle?" Blaise asked, stunned.
Draco didn't even think he could do that.
"The entire bottle," Ron smirked.
"Some Muggles use a funnel, with a big hose at the bottom. I saw it on TV," Hermione interjected with a giggle.
"I fucking love it, Granger!" Theo shouted, and Peechy was back in a moment, carrying this charmed-together funnel with a hose-like contraption on the end.
"What the bloody hell am I supposed to do with that?" Blaise roared.
Honestly, Draco was amused, yet nobody had asked him truth or dare yet, so he shouldn't get too comfortable.
Hermione jumped up to explain "Ronald is going to have to hold the top of it, you'll put your mouth here at the end, and Draco can pour… You'll have to open your throat so you don’t choke"
"How many girls have you said that to, Zabini?" Theo shot back
"Six," Blaise scowled, the Veritaserum still coursing through their veins.
Even Draco thought it was clever.
He grabbed the bottle and stood beside Weasley, the closest they had ever been to each other without trying to strangle one another. Weasley looked flushed as he held the contraption up, and Blaise looked between the two of them with slight horror.
"You can do it, babe. You heard Hermione, open your throat," Ginny laughed hysterically.
"Fuck," Blaise said with a final agreement, and Draco began to pour.
Zabini was doing surprisingly well considering the carbonation and the fact it was an entire bottle of champagne.
There was only the slightest moment where Draco could see pain behind his eyes, but he powered through, throwing down the hose as the last drops ran off his face.
"Honestly, good job, mate," Draco said, patting Blaise on the back as the group whistled.
"I should have chosen truth," Zabini said to Weasley as they clapped hands.
"Granger... Truth or Dare," Zabini asked, and Draco felt the protective heat rising in him.
"This is hard... I want to say Truth, but I'm nervous I'll admit something rather embarrassing. But I also don't want to do what you just did... so... I'll have to go with Dare?" she finished sheepishly, looking at Blaise, and Draco felt like it had been the wrong choice.
"I dare you to give Parkinson a love bite, on the top of her cleavage there, Pans can pick which side," Blaise said, smirking, and Draco felt like he was going to have to strangle Zabini now too in his sleep.
"You know I wasn't the one who made you chug that champagne," Draco snapped, and Parkinson let out a laugh.
"You can do the right one," she smirked, and Weasley looked like he was fighting back his words with every ounce of strength he had.
"Payback, Weasley…. Tonight, when you two undoubtedly fall into a bed somewhere, and you're about to shag, you'll have to stare down at a love bite that your ex-girlfriend gave her," Zabini snapped, and Draco cringed.
Fuck, it was good. Draco would have loathed it- if it had been reversed.
"Alright, Parkinson, I'm not one to back down to a challenge," Hermione straightened herself up and gulped her cocktail.
"Why couldn't you have asked her to do it to me," Ginny huffed, slightly sulky, which Draco thought was an interesting revelation.
"This sexually will confuse me again," Potter joked, or didn't, since he had to tell the truth, and Draco shot him a death glare.
He hated the thought of Hermione's body touching anyone else's. It physically coursed venom through his veins.
Yet, the vilest part of him hated the fact that he knew, deep down, somewhere in his fucking groin, that watching Granger suck on the top of Parkinson's tit would somehow get him hard and pissed off all at once.
"Alright... if this has to happen, nobody is allowed to ask Malfoy or me any questions, or even look at us... I think that's fair?" Weasley announced quickly, and surprisingly, Draco fucking agreed.
There was no way in hell he was going to tell the truth about how this made him feel.
"I agree with Weasley, no questions," Draco said quickly, and everyone seemed to stifle a laugh yet not one of them actually agreed.
Hermione moved off the chair and knelt in front of where Pansy sat, smirking up at her. The two girls awkwardly found a rhythm.
For some reason, when Hermione agreed, it almost looked like respect that washed over Pansy's face.
Pansy unbuttoned the top of her blouse, exposing more of her breast, Hermione turned back and gave Draco a little wink, which sent a shot of jealous lust straight to his cock.
Fuck.
"Draco, are you watching?" Hermione pressed in a devilish tone.
"Yes," it was a direct answer, grunted out.
Hermione's lips met Pansy's chest, and the group hooted, except Weasley who struggled not to look. Draco could almost hear his fucking thoughts because he was having them too- picturing the two of them together.... He wanted to rip Ron’s throat out, but he also didn't dare say a fucking word.
With a wet pop, it was over.
Draco was pretty sure he was sweating, his body clenched, and he felt a slight relief as Hermione’s mouth was finally off Pansy’s breasts.
“There... I feel like I did a pretty good job,” Hermione said in her usually swot-like voice, as if she had just given a damn presentation in front of a professor.
Fuck, why did that turn him on even more?
"Lovely job…" Pansy laughed, and Weasley looked on the verge of a heart attack.
“Draco, do you think I did a good job?” she rounded, and he let out an exhausted huff.
She was playing with him. Toying with him.
“Yes, you’re such a good fucking girl, Granger,” he said in a strangled voice.
“Fucking Christ, Malfoy, keep it together,” Weasley burst like a pipe, and Pansy turned like she was going to say something to him again, but he interjected.
“Please, Pans, don’t. My sister is here,” he said in a weak voice.
“Yes, please, please let him keep it to himself!” Ginny said in a disgusted tone.
“So it’s my turn now?” Hermione looked around, smiling toward Draco, and he gave her a pleading look.
“Actually, Harry… truth or dare?” she spun.
“I’ll do truth this time,” Harry said quickly.
“When did you start to have feelings for Theo?” Hermione asked.
It was a sweet question, a welcome break from the debauchery, and Draco felt himself getting a little drunk. He had pounded two glasses during Hermione’s dare.
“Sexually, Christmas. Emotionally, probably right after our second hunt,” Harry answered honestly.
“I kissed him on Christmas morning, right after we walked in on you two..” Theo said with a smile over to Harry, and Draco internally smirked remembering the stupid look on Potter’s face when he had caught Hermione and him.
“Malfoy... I have been wondering... how on earth do you walk around with that thing between your legs?” Harry asked, honestly, of course, now Draco couldn’t lie.
“I’m used to it, but thank you for asking... and now... sharing...” Draco said back.
“Sharing that you have a monster cock, that we call the dragon, Malfoy?” Theo laughed, and Draco had to answer. Hermione looked extremely red while Weasley looked nauseous.
“Yes, Theo,” Draco said dryly, not being able to say anything else.
“So... Malfoy... truth or dare,” Potter smirked.
Of course, it’d be Potter that got him first. The irony.
“Truth,” Draco said.
Nothing could be worse than Ron Weasley knowing the nickname for his cock.
“What’s the most precarious situation you found yourself in?” Potter smirked, and Draco instantly hated himself for saying truth.
He hadn’t thought of this, buried it, had hoped he wouldn’t have to think of it again.
“Damn it,” He swore, fighting.
“My mother caught me with Granger….. her skirt around her waist, while I was fingering her against a stack of books in my Manor’s library. Honestly, mother's reaction is seared into my memory forever,” Draco said, and Hermione groaned.
“It’s also seared into mine!” Hermione spat back, and the group erupted in laughter, even Weasley seemed to think the situation ridiculous.
When Draco finally stood up to go to the loo, he felt his legs slightly weak, his head spun.
He was fucking piss drunk; he had to be. They all had to be.
Luckily, they didn’t have to play much more of the game. Draco had only been asked truth or dare one more time by Ginny, and when he chose dare, she made him and Zabini race through the pitch.
That’s when he knew they were fucking plastered because Draco and Blaise barely made it meters without crashing into each other.
When he and Granger finally crashed through the doors of their bedroom for the night, Red had passed out on the poker table before Zabini stumbled her back up to bed. Weasley had thrown up, as per usual, and Nott and Potter disappeared.
“Granger…” he drawled.
“That mouth of yours… it seems to have wandered quite a bit this evening. Will it need to be reminded who it belongs to?” he edged, and Hermione's face was a deep red flush, her hair a wild mess.
“I think it will…” She bit down deliciously on her lower lip, and he desperately needed his cock in her throat and her lips around his shaft.
“On your knees… you’re going to let me fuck these sweet lips, to get the taste of Parkinson and Nott off them,” he drawled again, and Hermione fell to her knees, his hands in her hair, hitting the back of her throat over and over again.
It sent him into the drunken oblivion that he needed.
She was his fucking good girl, and he loved his girl.
There was a rustling sound, and Draco was still half asleep, his head assaulting him and his body feeling cold, the familiar hangover that he knew all too well from waking up in this bed over the summer, giving him a scare that he didn’t need.
He had barely squinted his eyes open to see Granger standing by the window, a sheet around her naked body and reading what looked like parchment.
“What are you doing? Come back here,” he groaned as she let the sunlight in.
“I need to get going,” she said quickly, the sentence shooting him awake immediately with anxiety.
“What are you talking about, what is that?” he asked, finally looking at some sort of letter she was holding, an owl perched on the windowsill.
“I just desperately need to get back to studying, I have too much to do,” she said quickly, folding the letter and walking toward her clothes piled on the floor.
“Who’s the letter from?” he asked.
She clearly wasn’t telling him something.
“The Ministry... another internship request, and this early, and this persistent, it’s mad.” She huffed, pulling up her jeans, and Draco’s head thumped harder as he tried to figure out her reaction.
“I’ll go with you, we can go back together,” he pushed himself up.
“No... no, you stay... I need to stop into Hogsmeade very quick first, then I’ll meet you back in the Great Hall for lunch. Alright?” she moved to the side of the bed, shoving the letter in her bag and kissing him on the lips in her haste.
“I love you,” she kissed again, and Draco grabbed her face.
“You’re alright? You’d tell me, right? If something was going on?” he questioned again.
“I’m alright, I’ll see you in a few hours,” she smiled and turned quickly toward the door, and he heard the crack of apparition in the hallway.
With heating anxiety, a pounding fucking headache, half a hard-on, mixed with nausea, the lingering thought of what the fuck was in that letter that made her disappear so fast?
He was positive it wasn’t another internship request.
Notes:
What do we think was in that letter? Will Hermione finally find out about what Theo and Draco did for the MInstry this summer? And if so, will it throw a wrench in the relationships before the final hunt?
Chapter 52: The Snitch
Chapter Text
Ron groaned to himself as he rolled over in the big bed that Theo had assigned them, his head pounding and his mouth dry.
He was violently hungover, having overindulged and wretched throughout the night. He'd really need to reconsider some of his actions, as he kept wrenching.
Last night had been fun, actually fun. At first, he was a little annoyed that Pansy had dragged him there, and it was odd watching Hermione and Malfoy be so intimate, but Theo’s game seemed to be distracting, lessening his usual hatred for the blonde twat.
Watching Hermione give Pansy a love bite was fucking painful, swirling thoughts of the two of them together were very confusing.
He loved Pansy with all his heart; she was the only woman he’d ever need. But he couldn’t help but think about what it would be like to watch Pansy and Hermione naked together, even if he wasn’t a part of it. He'd like to watch.
Pansy played with him more as soon as they were alone last night, following him into one of the downstairs loos, pressing herself against him, asking him what he thought about taking her and another woman at the same time.
His heart pounded, his throat closed—was it a test? He didn’t think it was because she shoved her tongue down his throat and seemed to be soaked at the thought of it. She was fucking filthy, and he loved it.
“Ron, stop hogging the blankets,” Pansy’s small voice moaned from beside him.
“How are you feeling?” he croaked.
“Bloody horrendous,” she moaned, and Ron leaned over to look at the clock flashing 10:30 AM.
“We need to go back to the castle soon if we want to make lunch” he groaned.
“Nooo..I’m not leaving this bed anytime soon, I’ll just call Peechy for some breakfast,” Pansy moaned.
“Peechy,” she yelled, and the small elf appeared in a crack, catching Ron off guard as he pulled up his blankets.
“Ms. Parkinson, Mr. Weasley, what can Peechy help with?” the little elf oozed.
“Peechy, my dear, would you be so kind as to get us some breakfast, you know the one I love the most from summer, with all the berries, and maybe some orange juice, coffee, and tea.. oh, and water?” Pansy asked very kindly, the duvet pulled under her arms.
“Ohhhhh… yes….yes… Peechy loves making Ms. Parkinson her favorites; Peechy has missed Ms. Parkinson over the past months,” Peechy squealed and vanished, and then Pansy laid back into their bed.
“Parkinson, I hate to break this to you, but you realize I don’t have a house elf, and it’s very likely when we move into the flat, we’ll probably have to make our own meals,” Ron said to her, and she batted her big dark eyes over at him.
“Yes, I’ve thought of that. I’m not a very good cook.. I’ve never had to do it before, but I’m excited to learn.. Can you cook, Weasley?” she rounded, and Ron flushed, thinking back to the tent; there had been a lot of animosity about cooking when they were on the run.
“Honestly, not very well.. but my mother is an excellent cook. If you want, we could ask her to teach us a few basics?” his heart pounded; he didn’t want to say that all the cooking had to be Pansy's responsibility, even though in his house it had been his mother.
Pansy and he would both be too busy, and he saw how that worked with Hermione last year; lesson learned.
“You think she’d teach us? I’m bloody awful at household spells as well. I’m not sure how to do the laundry and things like that.. and I’ve been really concerned about disappointing you when we move in. It’d be really nice if your mother would show me a few spells,” Pansy said, almost in a shy tone.
“Disappoint me? Pans, why on earth would you disappoint me? I’ve been worried I’m going to disappoint you. I can’t give you this,” Ron pointed around the room. Theo had offered for them to stay there, and she wouldn’t have to give up the life she was used to.
Peechy was back in a crack, and Ron chugged about four glasses of orange juice before Peechy even left the room again.
“You’re just so used to having a homemaker. I’m not that kind of woman…… Of course, I know we’ll be on our own, and we’ll have to do the basic household things people do, but I don’t know how to do bloody any of it, and I didn’t want you to look at me one morning after I burnt some toast and realize you aren’t going to get that again,” Pansy admitted, dipping a strawberry into some cream.
The fact that it turned him on slightly, he needed to push from his mind as they were having a serious conversation.
“Parkinson, I love you. I don’t care if you can’t make toast. We’ll figure out how to eat, or how to wash sheets, we’ll learn that stuff together… Honestly, my mum did everything for us. I almost wished I had learned to be a bit more independent. I watched Hermione and Harry be able to cook, pack, and clean without any instruction. I felt rather useless sometimes. As long as neither one of us burns down the flat, we’ll be alright?” Ron joked, taking a bite of bacon.
“Plus, if George has figured it out, I’m sure we can,” he added, and he saw her soften.
“We can’t mess it up that much, right?” she smiled.
“Not anymore than we already have. We’ll find our flow. Once July hits, I’ll be 7-3 at Auror training, then 3-9 with George. The one thing you need to promise is no sleeping at your shop.. you’ll be home and in our bed every night?” he shoved her shoulder.
“I don’t know if I can make that promise. If I’m not home, you may have to send an Auror out looking for me, and once I’m found, I’m sure I’ll be very grateful,” Pansy smirked, licking the cream off a berry.
“Fucking hell, I can’t believe I had to tell everyone about the alcove,” Ron just remembered a bit more of the truth-or-dare game from last night.
“Who cares, we know that Granger has a praise kink, which I’m sure is feeding directly into Draco’s possessive one,” she joked.
“A praise kink?” Ron questioned.
“Yeah. When Draco called her his good fucking girl, did you see the way she melted?” Pansy laughed.
“Honestly, I was focusing on getting my blood to pump back up to my heart,” he joked back.
“Such a boy.. you’re so easy to tease..” she moved to kiss him, and he wrapped his hands around her head, keeping her there.
“You have no idea how happy I am to be able to wake up like this next to you, every day,” he said, holding her close, and her eyes welled slightly with tears.
“Can we spend the day together?” he asked, realizing they hadn't ventured much outside of school
“We spend every day together,” she laughed.
“Yeah, but doing something, maybe we could go into Diagon Alley for a bit? Get lunch? I don’t know, just something the two of us,” he suggested.
“Are you asking me on a date?” she looked back at him, and he realized what a mistake he had made in not doing so before.
He felt like a total fucking wanker; they had been shagging and dating for months now, and not once had he taken her outside of the school grounds on a real date.
"Yeah, a date. I’m asking you on a date, Parkinson,” he smiled back at her, determined to make up for lost time.
They only had a few weeks before their schedules would become so busy that making time for each other would be more of a challenge.
He had thought about buying a ring as soon as he could, but would she want that?
Was it completely fucking mental? It seemed fucking mental, should he talk to Harry about it? George?
After escaping her forced marriage, and finally getting her freedom to own her store, and her life, would she so quickly want to tie herself to him?
He hoped she would. He’d support her, let her grow, but he wanted to wake up every morning, look down at her hand, and know that every day everything he’d do would be for her.
Hermione re-read her letter as she Apparated into Hogsmeade, her heartbeat racing. She didn’t like lying to Draco, but she was desperate to understand what this note was about.
“You’ve been in the dark too long, meet me at the Hogs Head in an hour if you can. Come alone– Room 12”
That was the entire letter, yet she recognized the penmanship, she just couldn’t place it.
Should she have told someone in case this was a trap or scheme? Probably.
She needed to know what she was in the dark about, why did she need to come alone?
She was wearing her emeralds; she knew she’d have some protection, even if she went missing or was taken, Draco could find her, but this did start to feel risky for so early in the morning while she was nursing a hangover.
She walked into the bar, Aberforth was nowhere to be seen, a lonely witch in the corner mucking herself over a plate of sausages and eggs.
Hermione turned toward the staircase that led to the rooms above, anxiety twisting with the residual gin and champagne cocktail in her stomach. She wanted to wretch, the floorboards creaking as she stood in front of Room 12. She knocked lightly on the door and held her breath.
“Hermione?” the voice from behind the door rang out.
She knew that voice.
“Ah, yes…” she answered, and the door opened slightly. She saw the horn-rimmed glasses and the bright red curly hair.
“Percy?” she questioned, and he ushered her in, looking around the hallway to ensure they wouldn’t be seen.
“You’re alone?” he asked, as he cast a variety of wards and silencing charms on the door.
“Obviously. What is this about? Is your family alright? Arthur? Molly?” Hermione’s mind began racing a million miles a minute.
“Yes, they are fine. This is to do with you,” Percy answered quickly, closing the blinds and walking to the desk where a stack of papers enclosed in a warded brown file folder sat.
“I’m risking everything to be here. I’m risking everything to show this to you… But I need you to know, who you are with…” Percy sat, clutching the side of the desk.
“Who I’m with? Percy, what is this?” Hermione spat.
“You’ve grown into a very smart, talented, beautiful woman, Hermione. Honestly, I love my family, I love my brothers, but I didn’t necessarily agree with you and Ron. But I was happy to keep my peace. However, when I found out about you and Malfoy, I held my tongue for as long as I could. I couldn’t sit and do nothing anymore… There is something you need to see,” Percy said, and Hermione was floored.
She looked toward the file, and she knew she was actually about to wretch; the anxiety and booze creeping up her esophagus.
Also, was Percy hitting on her?
“What is that?” Hermione demanded again, her voice hardening, as Percy was about to pass her the file.
“I broke fifteen Ministry rules to bring this here. I only have an hour before the alarms will go off that it’s missing… It’s Malfoy's file, it’s highly confidential,” Percy said, and Hermione gulped, feeling like taking the file and looking through it was a massive violation of his privacy, but she needed to know.
“I already know everything in this file. I sat through his trials,” Hermione said sternly, trying to keep her composure.
“Look at the date… This isn’t his trial file,” Percy pointed and tapped.
“This is inappropriate, Percy. You shouldn’t be tempting me to look through this!” Hermione roared back, yet her eyes kept glancing back down, betraying her words.
“You don’t think I know that? I hate the thought of you being with him. After everything… especially when you don’t truly know what a monster, he is… I had to bury my feelings when you were dating Ron, but I can’t stand to hear or read one more comment negatively slandering your name because of him!” Percy roared back, and Hermione gulped.
“I wasn’t aware you had… you had these feelings for me,” Hermione shook, her fingers now dancing lightly on the folder.
“I do, and have since the summer… You don’t understand the guilt I felt, having these thoughts about my brother's girlfriend. I had just lost Fred, and I would never risk losing Ron. Even still now, I know not to act upon my feelings, but I can’t watch you drown, especially if this were to get into the wrong hands…” Percy's voice softened, and Hermione heart thumped, was it a threat, or was it just him being cautious?
"The wrong hands? How many people can access this?" Hermione questioned.
"Not many know about it," Percy replied solemnly. "I wrote all the documentation. Dawlish and five hand-picked Aurors, Kingsley as well. But there's a lot of unrest at the Ministry right now with the Final Hunt next week. People may be towing the company line in the office, but that doesn't mean they believe it. If you and Malfoy win, it could cause more discord and division than there already is. Speculation of us rigging the competition, etc. All it would take is for someone nosy to dig into this more, an inquiry..."
"You think if Draco and I win, there could be an inquiry into why we won? And whatever is in that file may come to light?" Hermione hesitated, her heartbeat quickening and her mind racing with possibilities of what could be so bad, and why the Ministry knew about it and was hiding it.
"It's a possibility, one I don't know if Kingsley is taking seriously enough," Percy responded, his tone cold.
"He wants the project to be successful and thinks that regardless of who wins, it will automatically turn the wizarding world into believers. He has too many people around him not telling him the truth."
“I thought you believed in the project too?” Hermione asked sarcastically.
“I do believe that unity will create a better world for us all, but that doesn’t mean I also don’t believe there are some beyond redemption,” he replied sternly.
“Could you get me some water, Perce? I, uh... need a moment,” she lied, her body tense with anticipation as she kept her gaze fixed on the file, calling to her.
She felt a mix of urgency and guilt, but the need to uncover the contents of the folder outweighed her reservations. And she didn’t need Percy to be hovering the entire time.
“Of course, take all the time you need,” Percy nodded, removing the protective charms before heading downstairs.
Hermione moved to get seated at the desk, her heart pounding in her chest. Her fingers trembled as she hesitated to open it.
She knew she shouldn't invade Draco's privacy like this, but unable to resist any longer, she opened the brown cardstock.
Harry left Theo’s place early, Nott still asleep as Harry slipped out. He was so fucking behind on his schoolwork lately but spending time with Theo was addictive. Last night had been enjoyable, a taste of normalcy in Harry's otherwise not-normal life.
Theo had a way of making him feel like he could just be a regular person. Harry made his way back to the castle from the Apparition point, his head throbbed with the beginnings of a headache.
It was early, and he planned to grab a quick bite of bacon before locking himself in his room for the day to tackle two essays and a Transfiguration assignment.
He had just settled at his desk, sipping from three separate glasses - boiling tea, water, and pumpkin juice to rehydrate his severely dehydrated body, when furious knocking at his door interrupted his solitude.
Checking the clock, he saw it was only 10:00 AM—no way Ron was back, or even Theo. With a groan, he resigned himself to dealing with whoever it was, hoping it wasn't Seamus or Dean with their usual antics.
The knocking persisted, growing louder and more urgent until Harry finally pulled open the door.
"Hermione! You're back early," he exclaimed, surprised to see her. She brushed past him, her hair a disheveled mess and smelling like a pub sink. Clutching her hands tightly, she looked unwell, pale, ghostly.
"What's going on?" he asked.
“What do you know of the conditions of Nott's release?” Hermione asked, her voice strained.
Harry realized instantly that Hermione had uncovered the truth, he couldn’t deflect or play games with her. It almost brought him a sense of relief, as if he could finally exhale.
However, he also understood that now that she knew, he would inevitably have to confront Theo.
"You know," Harry replied, taking on a cool and cautious tone.
“What do I know, Harry?!” Hermione said frustrated, she was unraveling before him.
“How did you find out? You need to tell me everything….. and I’ll tell you everything I know, alright?” Harry insisted, reaching out to squeeze her hand as she sat on the edge of his bed, a tear rolling down her cheek, he understood her state of mind as he had been in it months ago.
“I got a letter this morning, from Percy. He asked me to meet him in the Hogs Head.. He showed me… he showed me this file. Harry….. it was pages upon pages of photos, documents, reports…” Hermione's voice trembled.
“Wait.. Percy gave you the file? Why would he give you the file?” Harry interrupted, unable to believe what he was hearing.
Hermione nodded in confirmation.
“I don’t know… apparently he’s been harboring some weird feelings for me and doesn’t want to see me 'go down' with Malfoy... What have you been told?” she continued.
“Kingsley told me after the Gala, he told me that if the project didn’t go well, there could be an inquiry... He was worried about those files surfacing... I’ve never seen actual proof, Kingsley just explained what happened...” Harry explained
"Percy said that even if the project goes well, there could still be an inquiry depending on the outcome of the winner, speculation if it had been rigged or forced... Either way, it seems like this information could come out. It’s a lose-lose," Hermione stated
Harry could tell her mind was already strategizing on how to solve the problem, evident in the way her eyes were darting around the room.
“Twelve… Harry… Theo killed seven, and Draco killed five... And the Ministry is hiding it... Hiding what they asked them to do... I can’t.. I can’t believe Kingsley would have let this happen..” Hermione wavered.
“Why do you think I was so hard on him at the Finalist Dinner? It’s sickening, they wanted them to be pawns, they could have died..” Harry vented.
“Theo doesn’t know you know, does he?” Hermione's eyes shot up to meet his, and Harry shook his head.
“I have no idea how to bring it up..” he admitted. “What else did the file say?” Harry couldn't help but feel a gnawing curiosity.
“It started with Kingsley approaching Theo while he was still detained, Draco was just about to be released back to the Manor. There were pages of their discussions, terms, and finally agreement. Theo agreed to lure the remaining Death Eaters into his Estate, Aurors would arrive and arrest them. The next pages indicated that Draco approached to assist Theo, that they could claim they were to take over the roles of their fathers and play the Ministry game as they had for years. That’s how they were going to convince Dolohov to bring the Death Eaters who were on the run to meet at Notts…” Hermione paused, taking a deep breath.
“Kingsley agreed, only about five other Aurors knew of the plan, and Percy.. he documented everything….Kinglsey actually fucking agreed to have two nineteen-year-olds to be stand-ins at a bloody raid..” Hermione pressed on.
“Once Theo and Draco got the communication back to Dolohov, through old Death Eater channels, they agreed to meet. The next information was a scribbling of testimonies from both Theo and Draco. Theo admitted once the targets arrived, his rage overpowered his magic, and an explosion of sorts happened from Nott's wand. It's redacted exactly how, but the explosion caused three of Death Eaters to die instantly. The next report indicated that the remaining Death Eaters knew it was a trap, and dueling began. Dolohov was found with his throat sliced open, and Draco’s name was attached to that report…” Hermione paused and took another gulp.
“Avery was found beheaded, also with Draco’s name attached to that report. Alecto and Amycus; dismembered. Theo’s name attached….it goes on like that.. how they found each of them, the autopsy, the wand used..” Hermione shook, and Harry paled at the thought.
“Hermione... they did what they needed to do. If the Aurors didn’t get there in time, then all Theo and Draco could do to survive was to fight back,” Harry said back in defense, remembering the pensive memories of Theo’s, the battle between the person he wanted to be and the person his father had raised him to be.
“You don’t think I know that, Harry? I’ve tried all year to convince Draco that nothing will change how I look at him, or how I feel. I meant that... they never should have been put into this position….. I can’t blame them for what they did…. I do blame Kingsley, for thinking that baiting Death Eaters was the solution to bringing them in, instead of doing their damned job as Aurors! Because of Draco and Theo’s actions, their families' actions, and their dark marks, their lives didn’t mean as much? If they died in the raid, nobody would have cared?! I believed in what we fought for, Harry… that it’d be different this time…” Hermione trailed off
“If the public found out about this.. about the Ministry’s deception.. if the files were leaked... I don’t know if Nott and Malfoy would be free of persecution again. I don’t think the Wizarding Community would see it like we do….. There is still an outcry that they got such light sentences, probation, and the allowance to finish their coursework, also inquiries as to why the Ministry hasn’t found or arrested any of the missing Death Eaters… It’s all I’ve thought about for months now.. How much longer can the Aurors say they are on the run, hoping everyone will just slowly forget they haven’t caught dead men.” Harry admitted.
“This information can never get out, Percy said “I can’t watch you drown, especially if this were to get into the wrong hands,” Hermione continued, and Harry felt a flash of fury at the comment.
“Was that a threat?” Harry pounced.
“I don’t know... I don’t think so, but if Percy could have taken the file and brought it to Hogsmeade… who says someone with a vendetta can’t access it, or if there is a formal inquiry at the end of the Unity Project… We need to tell Theo and Draco we know,” Hermione said, and Harry groaned, fearing she might suggest that.
“I’ve been trying to avoid letting Theo know, in hopes he tells me naturally,” Harry suggested.
“Harry.. they need to talk to Kingsley, these files.. they need to be destroyed,” Hermione asserted.
“Destroyed? That doesn’t erase everything. You think that file is the only documentation. I’m sure there are more secure ways to keep this information locked away,” Harry explained.
“You want to just sit back and wait- hope none of it sees the light of day,” Hermione looked taken aback.
“What if we ask Harry? It’s not like we are trying to erase what happened. They don’t want to forget their pasts, but they don’t need to be haunted by something they should never have had to do in the first place,” Hermione pleaded.
“This isn’t SPEW, Hermione! This isn’t our decision to make for them!” Harry spat more viciously than he would have liked.
“Theo hasn’t been in control a day in his life until this year. I’m not taking more of that away from him, and honestly, you shouldn’t take it from Draco either. I’m not going behind their backs, growing up the way they did... all we should do is finally admit what we know and let them make the call, let them know we’ll be there for them, in whatever way they may need us,” Harry finished, watching as Hermione's eyes hardened.
“Kingsley asked Draco to be on an Elite Auror team after Hogwarts… what do you think that’s for, Harry? Corruption seems to be running deep... It looks like you and I will also have to make a decision soon, I won’t let anything else happen to him… I won’t lose him..” Hermione said, standing.
Harry knew what she meant—they could follow blindly or accept their positions in the Ministry and make real change.
“Who else knows?” she asked, looking at him sharply.
Harry exhaled. “Ron.”
“Ron knows?” she questioned.
“I told him after the Gala. He’s not going to say anything... you know that,” he looked up at her, knowing that despite Ron's dislike for Malfoy, he would keep the secret to himself.
“I know that, I just wish either of you would have told me,” She said quietly.
“I was delirious after I heard……..and it wasn’t my secret to start telling. I needed time before I told Theo I knew, and honestly, I knew you’d want to go straight to Malfoy,” Harry answered.
She just shook her head, and Harry knew she understood, reluctant or not.
“McGonagall?” Hermione pressed.
“I don’t think so. I don’t even think Parkinson or Zabini knows,” Harry answered.
“Harry, I am telling Draco… Should I tell him you know as well?” Hermione asked.
Fucking Hermione, always the best one of them.
Harry released a sigh. “Yeah, it’s time. If Percy is actually concerned that one way or another this information may leak, we need to warn them... I’ll go and find Theo.”
Chapter 53: Spiraling
Chapter Text
The sickness underneath her skin was seeping into every vessel of her life. She couldn’t move past the images she had seen in the file; her mind would flash, replacing the faces of the dead with Theo or Draco.
It could have so easily been their fate, she could’ve been partnered with someone else this year, maybe she’d still be dating Ron, and she would have had the life she saw in the frames.
She never would have known what it was like to love Draco Malfoy.
The thought sat heavily in the back of her throat, forcing her to gag anytime she thought how close she came to losing him and she didn’t even know it.
What it must have felt like for him to carry it around with him this year, to be so violently hated that his life was worth risking... She couldn’t stomach it.
Had Draco done awful things? Yes, she knew that. He had repented, he had shown her that he constantly worked on being a better man, he had proved it in blood.
She didn’t blame Harry for keeping this to himself; she didn’t even blame him for being completely limited in how to broach the subject with Theo. She knew what it was like to have someone try to push her away after getting too close; Draco had tried after the 3rd Hunt.
She took a deep, steadying breath, pushing back the tears in her eyes before she knocked on his dorm door.
He swung open his door, standing there rigidly, menacingly, his brow furrowed as he looked down at her, a coldness running over him.
“Are you going to tell me what this morning was about now?” he asked, knowing her too well.
He could see it this morning on her face, and he could see it now; something was amiss.
She nodded and pushed past him, letting him shut the door as he edged closer. She could see his fists clenching and unclenching in nerves, his shoulder muscles twitching.
“I got a letter this morning,” she began, pausing to look at him.
“I’m aware, and I’m going to assume it wasn’t from the Ministry?” he voiced, harshly, with anxiety on his tongue.
“It was, of sorts... It was from Percy Weasley, asking to meet me… He showed me a file,” she said nervously, hoping he’d fill in some gaps, but she knew he’d be unrelenting.
“What fucking file, Granger?” he growled darkly.
“Your file, not from the trial but… from Theo’s release,” she said, her breath shaking, and Draco’s eyes went dark. He went to another place, and she desperately wanted him to come back.
“Dolohov, Rowle, The Carrows, Mulciber, Avery... I know what they asked you to do, Draco. I saw everything—the photos, the reports, I read the testimonies. You should have told me,” She said, her voice trembling.
“Why the fuck did Percy Weasley show that to you? And why do you think you have the right to know about it?” Draco rounded back on her viciously.
“Some deluded responsibility he somehow thinks he owes me, and I could have helped. I could have done something... you and Theo... you didn’t need to carry this alone,” she pleaded.
“Carry this alone? Granger, I fucking hated those men. I was thrilled when they started fighting back, all that rage, all that torture, I unleashed it... all of it. You saw the photos... and you are sitting here acting as if I’m some poor little lamb? I don’t need your help or your pity,” Draco snapped back darkly.
“A poor little lamb?! Do you mean a sacrificial lamb? That’s what they asked of you! They put you two in a cage to be murdered,” she exclaimed.
“They didn’t ask me. You read the reports. I volunteered to help Nott... I wasn’t going to let him have all the fun,” Draco retorted.
“Stop! Stop acting as if this was something you enjoyed,” she pleaded.
“It was,” he bit back.
“It wasn’t,” she bit back fiercer
“You take no joy in killing. You’re not like those monsters... You may have felt vengeance watching the life leave their eyes, but don’t you dare sit here and tell me that you enjoyed it... You’re only fooling yourself.”
She was face to face with him, his grey eyes like charcoal rocks, and she could see his jaw twitch.
“It wasn’t supposed to happen that way…. I wasn’t going to let Nott walk in there alone. Useless fucking Aurors were supposed to be there in five minutes after Dolohov and the rest arrived... Theo... he couldn’t fucking contain the rage. It was a room full of people who made our lives miserable, and we had to play the part like we wanted back in....Nott couldn’t fake it. The magic in him, evil, and powerful, had been repressed for weeks in a cell under the ministry, it erupted from his wand. I barely had time to react. They knew it was a trap..... Our wands were out, and my magic coursed through me, dark magic, like hot oil in my veins. It felt as if Nott and I were feeding off the hate. I blacked out. I don’t remember much until the Aurors broke in, and Theo and I stood in his drawing room, surrounded by bodies, covered in blood...” Draco admitted, his voice cold.
“You never should have been there,” she said, grabbing his forearms.
“We were glad to help in the beginning. You sat through the trials; people hated us, they wanted us to rot. Kingsley gave us a chance to redeem ourselves, and we fucked it up,” Draco said back darkly.
“You didn’t need to die in order to redeem yourselves... the Ministry fucked up, not you!” Hermione felt her voice becoming hysterical.
“I hate when you do that!” he shouted in a low breath.
“I hate when you try to make excuses for me. This is why we haven’t told anyone! We should have controlled ourselves,”
“I’m not making excuses, Draco, I’m telling the truth... They used you both, they preyed on your situations and made you pawns, scapegoats... What happens when this information gets out? Who do you think the public will seek retribution from? Percy? Dawlish? Kingsley? Maybe... a slap on the wrist, loss of their roles, shame? But some new haughty minister will come in and seek to rectify the wrongs of the previous administration, and you and Theo will be their prizes. You’ll pay for all their mistakes,” Hermione urged.
“It won’t come out! You don’t think I have a plan? Kingsley’s Elite Auror Team? I’ll be covering up every single death... They can only go so long without catching one of them before questions are asked. That information. That file. It. Will. Not. Get. Out,” he said with such harsh confidence that Hermione almost believed him.
"Percy Weasley delivered the file to me, in Hogsmeade!? It just takes one person, asking the right question to the wrong individual, and suddenly everything is at risk of being exposed. Percy warned me about the possibility of an inquiry if we win, raising suspicions of Ministry manipulation, to garner media attention... All it takes is one influential official to accidentally let that document slip, and our entire futures could vanish," Hermione confessed, her eyes brimming with tears.
He watched her, calculating his next words, thinking about his next step. She had gotten to him, she realized. She almost thought she saw a moment of panic wipe across his face.
“I won’t lose you, Draco. I won’t,” she pressed.
“I need to talk to Theo,” he said, looking at her, his chest rising and falling.
“Harry already is.”
“Potter fucking knows? You told Potter?” he asked incredulously.
“Harry knew before I did. He found out after the Gala; Kingsley told him... He’s been keeping it to himself for months,” Hermione explained.
“Fuck… Kingsley told Potter? Too many people are starting to know” Draco said back, and he began to pace swiftly, realizing the gravity of the situation.
“We can’t win the Scavenger Hunt; we need more time... we need to convince Kinglsey to destroy those files,” Hermione pressed, and he paused.
“No. I won’t. I won’t let you suffer again because of me!” he yelled in frustration.
“I’ll suffer more if you get taken from me!” she screamed back.
“I can’t keep letting you bail me out! You did it this summer, with your fucking testimony, and you’re trying to do it now, after everything I did to you... I won’t let you lose your parents because of me... I won’t. I told you I’d do anything to win, anything to help you get what you want, and I meant it.”
"I want you, Draco! Ever since that night after our date, it's all I've been able to think about. I know I promised to do anything to get my parents back, but how is it fair to them? Wizards shouldn't control Muggles, using our magic against them, stripping away their autonomy...... I took that autonomy from my parents, a decision I don’t regret to save them. But I’ve been selfishly delving into their minds, so fixated on getting them back and returning to normalcy, but it won't be normal. I chose to rewrite their lives, and I can't undo it now without horrendous consequences..... I've already written to Healer Van Beek to halt the treatments; I sent the owl this morning. I've come to terms with losing them, but I won't accept losing you. I love you, and I want the future we saw in our frames."
“I can't... I can't let you do this for me," he murmured, pressing his lips gently against her knuckles.
“I’m not going to purposely lose this hunt, I made a promise to you, and I’m keeping it, I’m using the Chalice for you,” Draco said.
“We’ll win the hunt, but let me use it to destroy the files,” a hot tear ran down her cheek.
“We need to agree amicably” he threatened.
“Then agree with me,” she begged.
“I deserve the consequences of my actions, and you deserve your family, to be happy.”
“What about Theo? Your Mother? Me...” she cried.
“We need to amicably agree and I refuse, I refuse Draco... If we get the Chalice you need to promise me, promise me you’ll let me choose us, choose our future, and Harry's, and Theo's.”
He stood over her, cupping her face, squeezing her temples in his large hands, they were chest to chest, feeling each other's breath -she was struggling- she was begging.
He breathed out, his lips brushing against her forehead as tears streamed down her cheeks.
“Draco... please,”
"Harry... you snuck out on me this morning?" Theo smiled as Harry pushed into his room.
"I know, I had a mountain of bloody work to do, but it seems like that isn't going to get done today anyway," he said, swinging back onto the bed, his heart in his stomach as he prepared to broach the subject, unsure of how it would go.
"Giving up already to come shag? I've been a horrible influence on you," Theo smirked, though Harry could sense the joke was layered over a mask of anxiety.
"Kingsley told me about Operation Thorpedo after the Gala," Harry said, bursting to share, not quite sure where to start, and he watched as Theo's expression shifted.
"He told you? You've known for months, and you haven't said anything to me?"
"I wanted you to tell me on your own," Harry said shyly, and Theo burst into laughter, a reaction that caught Harry off guard.
It was a dark laugh.
"You wanted me to tell you on my own that I bloody snapped? That I murdered seven people in five minutes? Oh, Potter... you're so sweet it kills me," Theo laughed, and Harry looked up at him.
"Don't do that, don't make me feel stupid! That's what you always do when you're feeling self-conscious or on edge. I just want to be there for you... I know what happened, all of it. I've used Unforgivables, more than once... I know what it's like to not have a choice between life and death, to make the decisions you need to survive."
"Why haven't you asked before now? Why bring this up" Theo remarked.
"Hermione knows," Harry added in a huff.
"Lovely, should I expect Draco here soon to murder us both?"
"I didn't tell her…. Percy Weasley cornered her in Hogsmeade with the file. There's worry in the Ministry that there may be an inquiry after the Final Hunt this weekend. He's nervous the file is going to be leaked, as proof of the Ministry's corruption, both in the Hunt and over the summer," Harry explained, hoping Theo would understand and let him in.
“Fuck,” Theo said, running his hand through his hair, worry finally hitting him.
“We need to destroy the files, destroy the evidence. You need to let Hermione and me help,” Harry pushed.
“Malfoy will never agree to it. He loves to live in his self-loathing... he'd never ask Granger to do that for him,”
“He'll have to. Hermione won’t let him go down for this. I won’t let you go down for this. It’s the Ministry's fault, their actions!”
“I’m not going to Azkaban, Potter. I wasn’t then and I won’t now,” Theo gulped hard.
“This year, you... you've given me something to live for, I'm not having that ripped from me,” Theo said, and Harry's heart felt like it was about to shatter.
“You’re not going to Azkaban, it won’t happen, I won’t let it happen, we won’t let it happen,” Harry reassured, moving forward to calm Theo, who seemed more shaken than Harry had ever seen him before.
“How likely is it for us to get into the Ministry? You’ve been before? Department of Mysteries?” Theo asked.
“That time it was a trap, so I assume it was made easier for me to get there... but I don’t think we should start off being too deceptive. Honestly, if we can avoid involving the Ministry, I think that's best. They've lost all my trust. All our focus needs to be on winning the Chalice. If we win the Chalice, we can erase all evidence and ensure it never resurfaces. We'll bury it completely,” Harry explained.
“And if we don’t win the Chalice?” Theo bit down on his lip, and Harry was desperate to comfort him.
“Can you talk to Malfoy? I know we’ve agreed to help Parkinson and Ron... but if we can get Draco and Hermione to align their request for the Chalice with ours,” Harry began, but Theo waved him off.
“Draco won’t... he’s determined to help Granger get her parents' memories back. I’m sure he’d rather be in Azkaban than risk her being unhappy,” Nott said coolly.
“You’re going to need to try” Harry pushed, realizing they were walking on a thin wire, and any moment could spark an explosion.
Theo nodded, his pace quickening around the room.
“You’re not angry with me? That I didn’t tell you I knew sooner? I just really wanted to give you the option... I wanted this to be your choice, whether you told me, whether you wanted to act upon it.” Harry moved grabbing Theo’s hands in his.
“I’m not angry with you Potter, but I’m terrified of losing you…” Theo squeezed back, and for once it was pure genuineness in his eyes, these rarities that Harry cherished, but he wished it wasn’t full of pain.
“You aren’t losing me. You and I... we can win this Hunt, like you said, remember? I’ve won everything else.”
Hermione had left, too angry with him to spend the night.
Draco sat in the dark, with only the flickering light from the hearth illuminating his dorm, sipping on a glass of Ogden's neat.
He wasn’t going to lead her down this path again. Regardless of how difficult it was to say no to her when she pleaded.
He had witnessed her most intimate moments in the Pensieve, in the Mirror. She had always sacrificed a part of herself for someone else, endlessly giving to Potter and Weasley for what she deemed a righteous cause.
Did he now represent her righteous cause?
Maybe Harry and Weasley hadn’t noticed, hadn’t realized everything she had given to them over the years.
But it didn’t make sense to Draco that something she had desperately wanted all year—getting her parents' memories back, reuniting their family—suddenly felt selfish in her mind, right as she found out that Draco's life could spiral out of control if the Ministry's information got leaked.
Fucking Gryffindors.
Hermione gave herself to everything she felt justified it. He wouldn’t let himself be the reason she didn’t get her family back. He had promised her, and he was going to fulfill that promise.
He had sat on the sidelines and watched her struggle before, witnessed the dark spells aimed at her as she dueled Crabbe and Goyle, and watched as "Mudblood" carved into her arm, and after she was petrified from the Basilisk his father had let loose.
He had volunteered to help Theo; he knew what would happen if the files got leaked. Despite how much it would kill him to never be with her again—so much so he'd rather die—he couldn’t let her give something else up for his sake, for his future. She had saved him too many times, in more ways than he thought imaginable.
He knew they needed to amicably agree on what they would use the Chalice for if they won. He'd need to convince her to let go of the dream of erasing his past, erasing what he and Theo had done.
"Self-loathing? Granger was already here then..." Theo cracked open his dormitory door; Theo never knocked, why would he? That'd be polite.
"You spoke to Potter." It wasn’t a question; it was a statement and he said it darkly.
"I did," Theo said, moving to the bar cart and pouring himself a dram.
"So you know that we’re fucked," Draco edged, his eyes meeting Theo's.
"We don’t have to be... Potter and I, if we win, we're using the Chalice to erase the evidence. You and Granger should too," Theo said coldly, as if he knew Draco’s answer.
"I’m not doing that. I've already had this discussion with Hermione. I'm not having it again," he practically growled.
"What did she say?" Theo asked tentatively.
"Exactly what you said. That she wanted to use the Chalice to erase the files, erase the evidence so that we never have to worry about it resurfacing."
"And you fucking said no?"
"It’s not her burden. I promised her I’d help get her parents' memories back, and that’s what I’m going to do." Draco bit out.
"Are you fucking mental, Draco? Actually fucking mental?" Theo's voice was slightly raised.
“We could go to Azkaban for life. Granger knew the risk when she erased her parents' memories, and she'd be willing to let them go for you, and you're just saying no? Think about your mother, for fuck's sake, think about me, and my life,” Theo rounded.
“I did fucking think about your life! Ten months ago, when I volunteered to help-I was thinking about your life......It was before Hermione gave me a taste of what it was like to truly live. I’d rather die than live without her, but I’d rather die than take something else away from her because of the choice that I made! Don’t you understand what an impossible fucking situation this puts me in,” Draco slammed.
“If we go down for this, you don’t think she will too? That Potter will too? They faced the Dark Lord and hundreds of Death Eaters hunting them for months, and they fought and they hid. Do you think they’ll just walk away from this?! If we burn, they’ll burn with us. Do you want that for her? Do you?!” Theo was now yelling, and Draco felt himself being unstable with rage.
“They wouldn’t have had to, Theo!! They wouldn’t have had to if YOU KEPT TO THE PLAN!” Draco screamed back, clenching his fists.
“Alright! So it’s my fault that we are in this bloody place?! Then let me help… and help Potter and me win, let me fix this.”
“No,” Draco gulped.
“YOU FUCKING IDIOT!” Nott roared and smashed his glass against the fireplace.
Draco lunged, the hatred, the anger overtaking him, grabbing Theo by the collar and throwing him up against the wall.
“I will not let her do this for me, she’s done too much for me,” Draco said through gritted teeth.
“Because she loves you... she wants to do this because she fucking loves you! That’s what you don’t get?! Do you truly hate yourself so much that you want to punish yourself forever? Not even realizing the only people you're actually punishing are the people who care about you the most,” Theo croaked under the strain of Draco holding him against the wall. His eyes filled with black pools like they had been the night after the Operation went wrong.
“Don’t act like you’re standing here, asking me solely because you worry about my future,” Draco rasped, finally letting up as Theo slid down the wall.
“I’m not. I want mine too. I don’t fear death anymore; I fear living without a reason to. I have dreams again... and I’m not letting them be stripped away by people who don’t understand what we went through, by the people who put us there in the first place. I’m winning that Chalice and you can thank me when you get the life you want with Granger…” Theo pushed off him.
“So, stay out of my fucking way on Saturday, Draco. I’m not letting you ruin all our lives because you refuse to believe you’re worthy of a second chance, because I am worthy of it,”
"Is that a threat, Nott?" Draco rounded back as Theo opened the door, straightening the collar Draco had just pulled on.
"Yeah,” Theo nodded and slammed the door.
Chapter 54: The Final Hunt Part.I
Chapter Text
Ginny's nerves were completely shot to hell. She could barely get out of bed this morning without feeling like she wanted to wretch, let alone sleep last night. It was a tug-of-war of anxiety. She needed to pull herself together.
She should have listened to Blaise and slept over, but she knew she'd keep him awake and one of them needed to be on their A-game, and the partners they had allied themselves with seemed to be crumbling.
Something was going on with Draco and Hermione that Ginny couldn’t figure out. Anytime she asked her friend, she would say it was nothing, but Ginny always walked in on them having hushed, tense conversations, and she knew that Hermione wasn’t sleeping in his room, for the past four nights.
She stretched her body the way she would before a Quidditch match. Luckily, her annoying roommate Romlida was still in bed; she had been obnoxiously trying to take bets on the winner of today's final hunt, and of course, Ginny was never mentioned.
Walking toward the Great Hall, Ginny knew she and Blaise would need to go and meet McGonagall to get their clue for tonight and the instructions on where to begin. She walked toward the Slytherin table. Draco sat there, looking reminiscent of his sixth year—heavy eyes, gaunt face, tired. Ginny thought he still looked annoyingly handsome, even though it looked as if he hadn’t slept in days.
Pansy sat beside him, chatting with an enthusiasm that no human should have at 8:00 AM, and Blaise's eyes followed Ginny until finally, she sat down.
She had never sat at his table before, but she couldn't care less she just wanted to be in his presence.
“Joining the snakes for breakfast, are we?” Pansy smirked, and Ginny sat more comfortably in her seat.
“Honestly, who bloody cares anymore who sits where,” she quipped, taking a piece of toast and buttering it. A few eyes glanced over, but none stayed on her long.
“Try telling your brother that,” Pansy laughed, picking up her coffee.
“You all seem in good spirits for today. I haven’t slept a bloody wink,” Ginny said, looking over toward Draco, who looked solemn, not speaking, picking at his food.
“I didn’t sleep much either. I tried to work through my nerves with some physical exertion,” Pansy smirked, and Ginny spit out her toast.
“Disgusting,” she said back at the innuendo.
“I told you to stay over,” Blaise said, clutching her still-shaking hand when the post owls began to descend over the hall, dropping packages and papers, with a Daily Prophet landing on top of them.
Ginny unwrapped the paper and looked at the headline, surprisingly shocked to see it today of all days.
"Families of Victims Seek Independent Investigation into Hogwarts' Unity Project," Ginny read aloud.
“What?” Draco barked out and snapped the paper from her hand, his eyes searching the page hungrily.
“I was reading that!” she snapped, and Pansy glanced over Draco’s shoulder and read out loud.
“In a bold move, families affected by the shadow of He Who Must Not Be Named, alongside those associated with the Death Eaters, have launched an independent investigation into the much-discussed Unity Project currently underway at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The initiative, aimed at seventh and returning eighth-year students, has come under scrutiny for its opaque operations and alleged hidden agendas.
Philip Bones, acting as the spokesperson for the concerned families, has voiced their collective apprehension regarding the conduct of authorities involved in the project. Bones stated, "The questionable behaviors exhibited by officials and the clandestine nature of the tactics employed are not only distasteful but also deeply misleading." He further added, "We are appealing to the Wizengamot to thoroughly examine all pertinent files related to the participants and to ascertain the authenticity of this project. We must ensure this initiative is genuine and not merely a ploy to garner positive publicity.”
As of the latest update, there has been no official response from Minister Kingsley's office regarding the allegations. Given that the case has only recently been opened, inquiries into the matter are still ongoing. It remains uncertain when the Wizengamot will convene to authorize the investigation and shed light on the concerns raised by the affected families and their representatives.”
“I’m not sure what they expect to find…” Ginny said, shrugging casually, and looking around. She watched as Draco's eyes darkened, snatching the paper from Pansy and storming off.
“What the fuck was that about?” she looked between Blaise and Pansy, who exchanged a concerned glance.
“Theo and Draco still not speaking?” Pansy asked Blaise, ignoring Ginny’s probe. Blaise shook his head in a no and added, “And every time I see him and Granger, it looks tense.”
“Do you mind looping me in?” Ginny pushed.
“We don’t know. We are only speculating, but we both think something happened with Nott and Malfoy last summer… neither has ever spoken about it, but something is up,” Blaise looked at the Great Hall doorway that Draco had just stalked through.
“And you two haven’t bothered asking?”
“And get the wrath of the dragon? No…” Blaise continued.
“You don’t think this is just a tactic? To throw us off our game for tonight?” Ginny questioned, and Pansy looked over again toward her, locking eyes.
“I don’t think so,” she gulped, and Ginny felt queasy. She hated not knowing what was going on.
“Ginevra, we should get going,” Blaise stood and held out her hand.
She nodded toward Pansy, who shifted uncomfortably and Ginny got up to her feet. Her stomach clenched again as the two of them walked toward the Great Hall exit, toward McGonagall's office.
Ginny and Blaise stalked down the hallway, each step making her heart race faster. McGonagall had given them the directions; each pair got the same starting point they had in September.
They were to grasp the Portkey that was waiting for them when it shook, and it would take them to their starting stage with the rest of the final pairs.
Blaise kept Ginny’s palm locked in his, the small piece of parchment that they had received at the beginning of the day tight in her hand. The ink would show itself just before the wand light erupted for them to begin.
They finally reached the end of the corridor where it all started months ago, she was a different person than she had been then, and she swung her face to his.
His scent, those eyes, that calm fucking demeanor. She stiffened herself. She was going to be Venus; she was going to be strong; she was going to win.
“Listen, whatever happens tonight, at the end of this... you and I... we’ll be just fine. Let’s not rely on Malfoy and Granger too much. Help them if we can, and vice versa, but the first chance we have to slow them down... we take it? Alright?” Blaise said, squeezing her hand in his, and Ginny nodded.
“Merlin, I need to pull it together. I feel like I’m a mess, my face is blotchy and red,” Ginny paced, shaking her hands loose, using her pre-game Quidditch technique.
"I like your face exactly the way it is," he smiled back, and Ginny felt a flutter in her stomach, realizing it was the same words and the same feeling she got when he had told her that in their first hunt.
A small, dented hanger that sat on the bench of the alcove began to shake.
Ginny had assumed it was the Portkey immediately upon settling at the end of the hallway. The vibrations against the wood rang down the hall, and Blaise smiled toothy and wide. At the same time, they both grabbed the metal wire, spinning through space and time. It was quick, a moment of suction, and then the two of them landed heavily onto a thick circular stage.
It was only four feet wide and four feet high. As both of their eyes adjusted to the light, Ginny realized they were outside, standing in the Quidditch pitch. Circular four-foot mounds formed a circle all around them as the starry night sparkled above, pops and gasps echoing through the night.
Malfoy and Hermione came into view on the stage across from them, Harry and Theo landing heavily to their right, Parkinson and Ron to their left, and beside Draco and Hermione, Neville and Daphne.
They all stood motionless. Ginny could feel the tension crackling.
Nobody else said anything; they all looked at each other.
She didn’t see McGonagall or Kingsley or any other Project Official. It was just the ten of them, though she knew they were being watched.
“Fucking hell,” Ron’s voice breathed into the night air.
Ginny scanned the others; they all seemed to be looking through the sky, watching patiently for that wand light, quietly calculating.
She could hear Hermione and Draco whispering to each other, her eyes locked onto them.
Abruptly, Draco grabbed onto both her arms and pulled her into a deep kiss, his hand clutching the back of her curls for dear life, and Hermione's hands digging into his forearms.
It was a lot, Ginny thought to herself.
“Is right now the best time for that?” Blaise interrupted.
“I may not get time later,” Draco said in an arrogant tone that seemed to be masking a hint of pain underneath it.
She heard Theo make a noise similar to one that would accompany an eye roll, and she heard Hermione whisper Draco’s name, sounding almost like a plea. Something was going on, and Ginny didn’t like it.
“Good luck, you guys,” Neville said kindly as he and Daphne swayed on the stage.
“Thanks, Neville,” she chorused alongside Harry, Ron, and Hermione, the snakes not pitching in.
Tension sloshed even more in her gut as they waited for the light.
She heard Ron rummaging around in his pockets and Pansy’s insistent voice as everyone grabbed for their parchments, all hungrily holding them in their hands and looking around at one another.
Draco stood on the small stage, the pitch dark around him, his opponents all looking apprehensive which was a good thing, except for Theo and Potter.
He steadied his breathing and heart rate like he had so many times before, finding that place in his mind where he needed to be in order to strike.
Hermione’s eyes were digging into him, pleading, and he almost couldn’t stand to look at her. He was doing this for her—why didn’t she understand that? He was doing this for her, giving her something that she was dearly owed.
He had seen the Daily Prophet this morning —his time ticking on a clock before he was dragged away from her, ripped away.
She pleaded even harder this morning, begged him. He was so close to giving in to her, but that was the selfish part of him.
He knew she was giving up a piece of herself for him.
He couldn’t let her do it.
He wouldn’t be Weasley, he wouldn’t be Potter.
He kissed her lips as if she was life’s elixir, as if she was blood in his veins; like he might not ever be able to do it again.
He could feel her erratic heartbeat, feel the tremble at his touch, as wanting and needy as his own.
Ripping himself away was the most difficult thing he had ever done, but the hunt was about to start, he could feel it.
He stood on the platform, and like sizzling firecrackers, all five of their parchments crackled in front of each pair, glowing red-hot then cooling.
He dove for it, Hermione’s hair blocking the black ink lettering appearing on the parchment.
“Where you laid your memories bare, start there,
In that hallowed space where pasts and truths share.
Face a fierce challenge, strength and wit in tow,
To unravel the next clue, onward you must go.”
Draco stood on the platform, rereading the parchment as fast as he could, memorizing it. He could hear Hermione’s low voice, saying it aloud over and over in a whisper only he could hear.
The quiet around them was stark as the partners around them read.
A cannon blast shook the night, and a white light pierced the sky as if heaven above was opening up, lighting the stage.
Before Draco could even look at his opponents, a bright jet of red light was ricocheting toward him from Theo’s wand.
Fucking Nott, he should have known.
“Protego!” Hermione screamed, and a mass shield was thrown up between them.
“Colloshoo!” Draco shot back toward Theo, as Potter leaped off the platform, Theo jumping out of the way of the blue light that shot from Draco’s wand.
“Confringo!” Blaise’s voice pounded through the dense night toward Harry and Theo, who were now running toward the southeast exit of the Quidditch Pitch.
Draco spun, his wand at the ready, but Parkinson and Weasley were gone, the flash of blonde hair from Daphne disappearing as she and Neville ran toward the northeast exit.
“Ginevra, COME ON!” Blaise yelled, and Ginny jumped from the platform, darting after where Nott and Potter had just disappeared.
Hermione’s protective shield dropped, and her head spun toward him.
“Where your memories lay bare, start there... The Pensieve, the Forbidden Forest,” she yelled as if Draco didn’t already know exactly where to go.
They both jumped from the stage and began barreling toward the southeast exit.
“Potter and Nott have a head start!” Draco yelled as Hermione ran, her legs slightly slower than his. He grabbed her hand to have her keep up.
Once outside of the Quidditch Pitch, he carefully scanned the grounds before them, the castle looming above with lights flickering from the windows.
He could see the hill they needed to go down, yet he didn’t want to take the obvious route, knowing that the others could be just ahead, waiting.
“Let’s stay by the tree line. I don’t want to be out in the open,” Draco moved to grab Hermione, but she was already ahead of him, darting through the heavy brush—sticks, and twigs cracking around her feet.
Draco cast a wordless Muffliato around her legs to ensure nobody could hear them coming.
“Face a fierce challenge, strength and wit in tow...” Hermione kept repeating it to herself as if she were trying to solve the puzzle before they got there.
“Wand ready, Granger,” he ordered, and she nodded, still wordlessly mouthing the clue like an incantation.
They crept closer to the mouth of the path they had followed back in November. Draco bent down in the brush, eyeing the opening, watching, hunting, or being hunted—he couldn’t tell.
“It’s clear,” Hermione whispered in a hushed tone, but Draco hesitated slightly before moving, crouching low to the ground toward the opening of the path before them.
Hermione behind him, her heart beating fast but her hand steady.
He fucking loved that. She was nervous and he knew it, but she was hardened, toughened.
A rustling in the bushes up ahead made Draco spin around —but it was just a small black cat, purring as it bounced toward them.
“Fucking hell,” Draco thought out loud to himself as he pointed his wand at it.
“Draco, no! It’s just a kitten,” Hermione urged behind him.
Draco knew it wasn’t just a kitten.
“Parkinsonn…….. where’s your dog?” he growled, and from behind them, Ron roared from the hidden bush.
“Incarcerous!”
Draco whipped around. “Stupefy!”
The red jet shot from Draco’s wand, hitting Ron square in the chest, and he fell like a brick to the ground.
“Draco!” Hermione yelled as thick ropes slithered around her legs and arms, binding her tightly.
He felt torn— but he had to focus on the threat before him, before he could save her, or they wouldn’t have a chance.
He steadied himself and turned back to where the cat had been, only to find Pansy standing there, legs apart, wand pointed directly at him with a sly grin on her face.
“Animagus…. you’ve finally perfected it? Registered yet?” Draco sneered, matching her movements as they circled each other.
“Just did...last night,” Pansy smirked, knowing her move was illegal if she hadn’t registered. Clever.
Hermione’s grunts on the ground snapped him back into focus as she struggled with her binds.
“Don’t worry, love, I’ll get you out,” he breathed into the night air.
“Looks like Pans wants to dance first……You and I both know I’ve always been a better dancer though,” he smirked, then wordlessly shot a red jet from his wand at her.
Pansy was fast, throwing up her shield charm and darting to the side as she rounded back at him.
“Such a big ego, Draco - Alarte Ascendare!” she yelled, but Draco was quicker, moving out of the way and blocking fast with his wand.
“Come on, Parkinson, you can do better than that can’t you? That’s a second year spell.” he egged her on, with a sneer.
He saw the rage twisting on her face as she lunged forward again, sending jets of blue and white light his way. Draco effortlessly blocked each one, purposefully not breaking a sweat to infuriate her even more.
“If you want to stand over there by your boyfriend, you can take a nap together. No shame in being out of the game this early,” he taunted, nodding toward the unconscious Weasley lying behind Hermione.
“Draco, hurry up!” Hermione yelled, still struggling to wriggle free from her bindings.
“Expelliarmus!” the voice rang out from the top of the hill, and Draco internally groaned as his wand was ripped from his hands, flying directly into Potter's grasp.
“Incarcerous!” Pansy rounded on him, and Draco found himself being pulled to the ground beside Hermione by his thick crushing ropes.
“FUCK!” he shouted as Potter and Nott ran toward Weasley and Pansy, a Rennervate spell jostling Weasley back to his knees. Pansy helped him up, and they both ran toward the treeline without looking back.
“What is this now? The third time I’ve disarmed you, Malfoy?” Potter yelled as he and Theo jumped over Draco and Hermione's wrangled bodies.
“You can thank me now, Draco, or later!” Theo shouted as they followed Weasley and Parkinson into the woods.
“I’ll fucking kill you, Nott!” Draco grunted, as two jets of white light shot over his head toward the treeline where the foursome had disappeared.
But before he could manage to try to grab Hermione, both he and her were fighting against the air as Zabini hit them both with red lights that broke the binding spell.
Ginny planted herself firmly into the ground as she fired jinxes into the forest.
“Confirmed they’re working together then,” Zabini huffed as he helped Hermione off the ground, Draco moved to ensure she wasn’t hurt.
“Are you alright?” he pushed, his heart pounding with rage that he no longer had a fucking wand.
“I’m bloody fine,” she gritted, rubbing her wrists where the ropes had been.
“I can’t believe it was Ronald who got me” she huffed in annoyance and a surge of pride washed over him at the jab.
“We need to keep going!” Ginny urged; as the four of them picked up their pace down the forest path.
Ginny outpaced them all. She was fast, Draco noted, filing that away for later—after he murdered Potter and Nott.
“Longbottom? Greengrass?” Draco breathed hard toward Zabini as they ran.
“Haven’t seen them yet,” Zabini huffed back breathlessly from the cardio.
They were almost there.
Draco knew the opening was close.
Suddenly, a blood-curdling scream and a violent roar echoed through the forest, and all four of them stopped in their tracks.
“What the fuck was that?” Ginny said, her voice tense as they saw fiery orange flames erupt through the dense trees ahead. Draco could make out four figures ducking, their wands emitting a rainbow of colors.
Draco moved forward, Blaise following closely behind, both trying to make as little noise as possible while keeping Ginny and Hermione firmly locked behind them.
Gryffindors, Draco thought —if they saw Harry or Weasley down. Draco couldn’t risk Hermione’s spurts of wildly unthought-out bravery.
Another roar rang through the trees, and he heard Potter and Nott both yell an incantation, vibrant purple hues shooting from their wands at the same time. Whatever was spitting fire at them darted off.
“It’s a Chimera,” Hermione gasped.
“That’s fucking insane... it can’t be... we could die,” Ginny responded.
“Anyone have a Pegasus?” Blaise asked sarcastically as they watched the foursome up ahead battling.
“PANSY—WATCH OUT!” Ron’s scream pierced the chaos as a burst of fire barreled toward her, and they watched as Ron threw himself at Parkinson.
Hermione lunged forward before anyone could stop her, just like Draco fucking knew she would.
“God fucking damn it, Granger,” he yelled.
Draco moved fast behind her as Hermione cast Aguamenti on the flames that caught on the back of Weasley’s robes. He held down Parkinson in the dirt and Draco almost stumbled over them as the beast rounded back, now on Zabini, Ginny, and Hermione, all standing in the clearing. Nott and Potter leaned against a tree their faces blackened with ash.
“It’s not a Chimera, it can’t be. It has to be something Polyjuiced as one – we’d be dead if it was,” Potter yelled over to them as they arrived. “It’s guarding the next clue!” he finished.
Draco was torn—torn between wanting to finish Potter and Nott, take them out of the game, and not completely burning to ash.
Regardless if this was a real Chimera or not, it was still breathing bloody fire
“I need my fucking wand back, Potter!” Draco yelled as he felt defenseless, edging around the circle where the Chimera was chained to the tree.
Harry had been right; there was no way this was real, or the Ministry would never have been able to tie it to a tree.
“Too bad, Draco!” he heard Theo yell, and Potter argue slightly, the two of them muttering back and forth.
Fuck it, Draco thought as he darted past the fiery hell beast and rolled onto the ground in front of Potter and Theo, surprising them both as another round of fire unleashed upon them.
Theo cast a Protego, and Draco reached up to Harry’s trousers where his wand was jutting out and ripped it from him.
With wand in hand, he shot a stunning spell directly at Theo, who collapsed to the ground—the protective shield dropping and Harry falling on top of them both, shielding them from the flames.
“HEY! Over here!” he heard the scream, and it was fucking Red, waving her hands above her head, trying to distract, as Parkinson and Weasley circled on the other side.
Draco looked to see Daphne and Neville barreling into the middle of the clearing, both wands raised, wildly unprepared.
Blaise moved stealthily behind Ginny, his focus solely on ensuring her safety. Another roar of flames erupted toward her, and Draco watched in horror as Hermione dashed toward her friend, pushing her to the ground and shielding her from the rainstorm of heat.
The flames licked at Hermione's back as she braced herself against Ginny.
Hermione pinned Ginny down to the ground, he saw her whispering fervently.
Ginny's eyes widened, her head shooting over to where Blaise was standing.
What the fuck was that?
What did Hermione just tell her?
He couldn't hear their words over the chaos of the battle, but the urgency in Hermione's movements impressed to Draco that Granger was playing her own game.
Another roar of heat; as a jet of light shot from Longbottom's wand, and Draco needed to focus on the task at hand, on retrieving the clue but his mind kept going back to the look on Red’s face.
"Draco, we need to move!" Blaise's voice broke through his thoughts, snapping him back to reality.
With a determined nod, Draco refocused.
Potter rolled and revived Theo, the two of them springing to their feet, standing side by side.
At that moment, it clicked—they'd need to work fucking together.
“All wands at once! We need to aim and hit it together!” Draco roared, his voice cutting through the madness.
Without hesitation, they all stood and steadied themselves toward the chained creature, ready to unleash their combined magic.
“Polyfluis Reverso!” they shouted in unison, a kaleidoscope erupting from their wands as they directed their spells toward the mane of the beast.
As if drenched in water, the mighty lion, dragon demon from hell transformed into a small, orange-red Kneazle—a FUCKING Kneazle?!
The clearing fell into stunned silence, shock on their dirty faces.
Weasley's laughter broke the stillness as the tree lit up with small compartments revealing clues.
Draco's focus shifted again back to the game, and they all dashed forward.
Ginny was the fastest, positioning herself in front of Longbottom, Greengrass, her brother, and Parkinson, throwing up an impenetrable shield charm while yelling at Zabini.
Ignoring it all, Theo and Potter darted forward, but Draco sent a wordless, wandless jinx—familiar from countless uses at the manor—causing them both to trip and smack to the ground, immediately getting stuck in the muddy floor of the forest.
A vengeful glee filled his soul.
“Be thankful I’m not allowed to use harmful spells!” Draco sneered as he jumped over them.
“Hermione, go!” Ginny's command rang out, and Draco saw the desperation in Blaise's eyes as he looked to Ginny for understanding—a plea Draco already understood.
He knew exactly what Granger was doing, but to his complete fucking disbelief was Red going along with it?
Hermione reached the tree first, the parchment falling into her hand as she yanked open the compartment with their initials.
Without hesitation, she took off into the darkness of the forest, her curls bouncing in the moonlight, knowing he'd follow.
And he did, spurred on by the yells of their competitors battling for the next clue behind them.
“Granger! Stop!” he yelled, and she spun around, almost collapsing into his arms in exhaustion.
She clutched the blackened inky parchment in her hand, waving it in victory.
He grabbed her wrist to read what they needed to find next; amidst the arena, they were playing their own game of cat and mouse.
“In the room where stars blaze bright,
Where mystic arts chart the course of night,
Atop the summit, seek the next light.”
“The Astronomy Tower,” she breathed.
Chapter 55: The Final Hunt Part.II
Chapter Text
Hermione and Malfoy disappeared into trees, darkness completely enveloping them, as the forcefield created by Ginny was still keeping them back, despite struggling against it.
Nott had been right – Zabini, Ginny, Malfoy, and Hermione were working together, although it was strange that Ginny had let them go ahead of them.
It was an odd play; one Ron couldn’t piece together. It did make him feel less bad about throwing an Incarcerous at Hermione.
The final hunt so far had been brutal, and they weren’t even at the second clue yet.
The fact that The Ministry had Polyjuiced a bloody Kneazle into a Chimera was absolutely mad.
He and Pans almost burned alive.
“Pans, can you get to Nott and Harry?” Ron grunted as he slammed hex after hex at his sister's shield. Zabini snaked toward the tree, with Neville and Daphne battling the shield charm beside him.
When the hell did Ginny get so strong?
Pansy was being thrown back, Harry and Theo still stuck to the ground just beyond the circle of the forcefield.
Ron could hear the muffled voice of Zabini shouting out, and he finally noticed Ginny taking steps back. She was about to break, Ron knew it.
He would only get one shot at her; he knew that too.
Blaise was at the trunk of the tree; he must have grabbed their next clue. Ginny was steps away as Neville, Ron, and Daphne moved closer. Pansy moving around to where Theo and Harry lay, slashing and reversing the hex that held them down.
Ginny’s forcefield fell suddenly, and Ron was ready. He shot a stunning jinx at her, but Blaise was fucking faster, he must have somehow known the jinx would come from Ron’s wand.
The strength behind it blasted him back, along with Neville and Greengrass.
When Ron scrambled back to his feet, Ginny and Zabini were gone, with only the shaking of the bushes left behind as they disappeared.
“Fuck! Harry? Theo? You alright?” Ron ran over to where Pansy was helping Nott and Harry off the ground, Neville and Daphne seized the opportunity and ran for their clue, then back up the path they had stumbled down minutes ago.
“What was that? Why did Ginny let them go?” Harry asked Theo, and Theo shook his head.
Ron had wondered the same fucking thing.
“I don’t know, but we need to go. All six of them are now ahead of us,” Ron roared and ran toward the tree, hearing Pansy's breaths behind him as they found the compartment that had their initials on it.
Harry pushed to his side immediately, trying to get his own clue.
The parchment felt warm in Ron’s hands, and he caught a whiff of Pansy's perfume from behind him, feeling her chest pressed against his back as she tried to read over his shoulder.
Harry and Theo were a few feet away, greedily re-reading their own.
“In the realm where stars ignite,
Where magic guides the path so right,
At towers peak, find the next insight.”
“The Astronomy Tower,” Pansy whispered into the back of Ron’s ear, her small hands squeezing his trapes.
He nodded, swinging around toward Theo and Harry—who were already making a mad dash back up the path.
Ron’s heartbeat slammed in his chest as he ran harder.
“Weasley!” Pansy yelled in a high-pitched whisper. “I know a faster way!” she continued, and Ron spun in his tracks to face her.
When Ron stopped, she stopped, and with a swift nod of her head to the right, he followed.
Harry and Theo never looked back to see where they went. Pansy was taking what looked like an even narrower animal track, maybe Centaur? He wasn’t sure.
“Pans, where the fuck are we going?” he yelled between hard breaths.
“Firenze showed us this path… Centaurs… the Astronomy Tower… there’s a way to get closer from the forest… even on the ground… it’s the best unobstructed view…” Pansy panted out as she ran ahead, jumping over small roots.
She was right; Ron could already see the tower through the trees, and they were going to come out by the North exit toward the grounds. They might just beat Theo and Harry.
The treeline was looming, and Ron felt a sudden clench in his stomach. They couldn’t just burst out into the grassy hillside. Malfoy... Hermione... Zabini... Ginny... they could be waiting.
“Parkinson, wait!” he yelled just as she was about to cross the line of trees.
She paused; her breath and his heartbeat were the only things he could hear amidst the ringing in his ears.
“Disillusionment Charm?” he suggested, and her eyes lit up.
“Can you do me too? You’re better at it,” he smiled at her.
“Obviously I’m better at it,” she quipped, moving toward him with her snobby little walk. He couldn’t help but smile; she looked fucking cute even in the craziness of this evening.
He couldn’t help but be madly in love with her.
She moved her wand over the two of them, a ripple of air vibrating until she was sure they were completely blended into the background.
Then they moved out into the openness of the night. Ron cast silencing charms around their feet as they walked across the grass, both their wands still out as they headed toward the north entrance of the castle. He was prepared for the door to be locked and was more hesitant when he found it opened.
“Someone else must have come this way,” he said, glancing at her, and she nodded, gripping her wand more firmly as they moved toward the staircase.
The castle was ominously quiet as they rattled up the steps, higher and higher toward the twisting passageway that spiraled up towards the tower.
They were almost at the base, and Ron could see two figures lying motionless at the bottom, paralyzed on the stone floor.
“Ron… who is that?” Pansy whispered as they edged forward.
Why was he always finding bodies in this bloody fucking school?
They moved closer, Pansy’s grip tightening on his arm as they realized it was Daphne and Neville lying stunned at the foot of the staircase, with the door toward the tower wide open.
“Should we…?” Pansy began.
“It wouldn’t be the worst thing to have them a little behind, or out of the game completely,” Ron responded, though he hated feeling so ruthless.
After all, it was a game, but it was also Neville.
“Right… maybe on the way back down?” Pansy asked, but her tone suggested otherwise.
“On the way back down,” he half-heartedly agreed as they ran up the circular staircase, listening intently for any signs of the other teams, but he couldn’t hear any.
They were at the top of the wooden steps, which bowed underneath them as they walked onto the platform that formed the lookout.
Ron felt an odd chill run over his body. Pansy and he looked around, finding nobody else present, which could either be a good thing or a very bad thing.
Pansy waved him over to a chalkboard—long and almost as tall as he was, rooted to the ground with glowing Arithmancy equations.
Ron immediately felt annoyed; he hadn’t taken Arithmancy. Malfoy and Hermione did, he was positive, as did Theo and Blaise. The realization that they may currently be sitting in last place felt like a stake to the chest.
“Pans… I have no bloody idea how to solve that,” he admitted, looking at her and realizing she did.
She took Arithmancy. Thank Merlin.
“I know… You only ever took jock subjects,” she laughed, tapping her wand on her leg anxiously.
“Jock subjects?” he objected weakly, knowing she was right.
“Herbology? DADA? Charms? The hardest subject you ever took was either Potions or Transfiguration,” she continued, not sparing him a glance.
Pansy solved aloud, her wand tracing the equation before her.
"These twos, and the seven, they signify the Moon and Orion. The celestial patterns must hold the key to our next clue... But, I'm not certain about these two symbols and their corresponding numbers." As she spoke, the first two correct answers shimmered in white light.
“Ron…” Pansy asked in a low tone, “Where is the Draco constellation in tonight’s sky?” she turned to face him, her expression slightly pale.
“I don’t know what the fuck the Draco constellation looks like,” he confessed in a huff.
“Merlin,Weasley, it’s a good thing you’re pretty…” she joked and moved him aside and grabbed the scope, peering out towards the black lake, studying the sky, then dropping the scope down.
She repeated this action several times before locking onto a spot and moving away from the eyehole, motioning for Ron to view. He didn’t like the way she wasn’t speaking.
It took him barely a second to look through the telescope to understand her resistance.
Dumbledore’s marble tomb sat directly under where the Draco constellation appeared in the clear night sky. He moved the scope around the base of the lake, trying to catch a glimpse of any other competitors, who may already be there.
“I can’t see any…” he began but was immediately halted by a jet of red light that erupted from behind him and ricocheted off the wall.
He spun on his feet.
“Protego!” he yelled throwing a shield charm around Pansy as Ginny and Blaise came into view.
Zabini threw another ‘Confringo’ at them, blasting the chalkboard to shreds.
Ron had the sickest feeling it was intentional.
“Don’t you two morons need that to move on?” Pansy shouted back, shooting a blue light toward Ginny, who blocked it immediately.
“This is as far as we’re all going!” Ginny screamed back.
“Impedimenta!” His sister called as Ron’s arm shot back up, and he blocked it as another spell came from Zabini, which Pansy dodged.
“Are you mental? Maybe it’s as far as you’re going, but not us!” Ron screamed back.
“Bombarda!” Pansy shot toward a case of glass crystals that hung on a shelf over Zabini and Ginny’s heads, causing the shards to come pouring down around them.
Ron seized the chance to leap, landing on top of his sister and wrestling her and her wand to the ground as she kicked and punched at him—struggling as if they were children again.
“Get the fuck off me, Ronald!” Ginny struggled, while Pansy aimed her wand directly at Zabini, both now submissive.
“You’re not stronger than me, Gin,” Ron asserted as she continued trying to knee him in the bollocks.
“Don’t make me do the spit thing!” he yelled at her.
“You wouldn’t dare!” Ginny shouted back.
“Could you two stop for a moment!” Zabini roared.
“Pans, you need to stay behind,” his voice rang through Ron and Ginny’s fighting.
Ron realized this probably wasn’t the manliest thing to do in front of his girlfriend, to fight with his little sister like they used to.
“What the fuck are you two on about? Blaise, tell me now... where’s Theo, Harry, Draco, Granger?” Pansy's voice was direct, an edge to it.
“Our suspicions……they were right about this summer with Theo and Draco.. something happened...” Blaise gritted out as if trying to whisper, but Ron immediately understood what he was talking about.
Harry’s expression the night after the Gala, the Prophet this morning, and the tension between Hermione and Harry the past few days.
He hadn’t seen Nott and Malfoy together, and now he realized that Hermione looked disheveled. He thought it was just stress from the hunt, but it was all falling together now.
“Do you mean what the Ministry got Malfoy and Nott to do for them? The sting operation? What does it have to do with us staying behind?!” Ron spat.
“You know?!” Ginny wriggled, looking up accusingly.
“I’ve known since after the Gala. How do you know?” Ron rounded on her.
“Hermione... she just told me, when she saved me from the Chimera. I didn’t get the whole story, but the inquiry into the Project... they are worried whatever the Ministry asked of Theo and Draco will come out. She said their lives... they depend on winning,” Ginny heaved.
“I understand, Blaise, but why you, Ginny? Why are you giving up winning for them?” Pansy said in a heated tone.
Ron knew that tone; he knew it hit Pansy deep down. She was fighting back tears.
“Because I love Harry, and I love Hermione... I want them to be happy. I get that with or without the Chalice, but they might not,” Ginny squirmed.
Ron turned his head to look over at Pansy, who had her wand down by her thigh again, tapping. Her eyes locked with Blaise's as if they were having a silent conversation.
“Ron... you didn’t say anything?” Pansy asked, but it wasn’t anger or malice; it was something like respect and disbelief.
“It wasn’t my secret to tell, Pans... even though I can’t fucking stand Malfoy.. Nott, he’s alright... I wasn’t going to spill anything. I wasn’t going to risk it getting out. They could go to Azkaban for life, and honestly, ridding the world of Death Eaters... which is what they did, by the way... ridding the world of evil... it’s not a crime they should suffer for,” Ron answered.
However horrific the details had been, he was more disappointed in the system he had desperately wanted to be a part of.
He no longer believed that Nott and Malfoy should rot in jail….. He truly didn’t feel that way, which honestly was something he never thought he’d be able to admit to himself, let alone out loud.
Although he still thought Malfoy was a twat, he didn’t change his mind on that.
“What do you want to do? I’ll do whatever you want me to do…” he asked her, and he meant it.
He knew how much Theo and Draco meant to Pansy, and Harry and Hermione meant the world to him. They’d be shattered, and in reality, they all would be if this information got out.
They had come so far, reluctantly together.
“Then why is Theo trying to stop Granger and Draco?” Pansy asked.
“Draco’s self-sacrificing. He believes he isn’t worthy of a second chance. He still wants to win for Hermione’s parents. And Nott, well... disagrees,” Ginny answered.
“Again, I didn’t get much from the thirty seconds of Hermione whispering on top of me,” she added, and Ron finally let up, though she kneed him hard in the shin.
“Fucking hell, Ginny,” he groaned. “I was letting up,”
“Yeah, but you still annoyed me,” she retorted, throwing her head back to look at Pansy.
“So, it’s just going to be the four of them? Why not stop Malfoy and Hermione too? Let Theo and Harry, win it?” Ron asked.
“Draco needs to come around on his own. He needs to forgive himself,” Blaise said, looking between Ron and Pansy.
“Parkinson? What do you want to do? Honestly, all I want is you... and I have that. And as long as I never lose you... I don’t need the bloody Chalice,”
He watched as her eyes sparkled with tears, and she dropped her wand, rushing toward him.
Jumping into his lap, she straddled his waist and kissed him like a maniac before she broke away.
“Always the hero.”
“Draco... your constellation……where is it?” Hermione stepped back from the Arithmancy board, her eyes reluctantly settling on him.
Each moment spent in his presence was like a dagger twisting in her chest, reopening wounds. She couldn't stand to see the pain in his eyes, the guilt that she knew lingered.
She waited for his response, and a torrent of conflicting emotions surged within her. The desperation to make him understand left her paralyzed. She wanted to believe that he would do the right thing, that he would choose their life over his own misguided sense of duty, or whatever the fuck it was.
Her frustration boiled over, mingling with a sense of helplessness that threatened to engulf her, she could barely focus, she had let Ron best her back there. Why couldn't Draco see what was right in front of him?
Why did he insist on clinging to his stubbornness, even at the cost of their happiness?
The realization that she might have to resort to drastic measures dug at her conscience, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth.
She had pleaded with her best friend and begged her to give up on her and Zabini’s chance at victory for the sake of Nott and Malfoy.
It was a selfish request, she knew, but she couldn't lose Draco.
She knew Draco had seen her and Ginny’s hushed conversation, and she knew he saw through her fake façade, and that he understood the depth of her desperation, yet they continued to dance around it.
“I don’t need to look through that scope to know where we need to go next,” Draco said darkly. “The Astronomy Tower, my Constellation… it’s the grave,” he finished,
Hermione moved to his side, his presence tingling her body as she brushed past him to confirm what they already knew. She tucked a curl behind her ear—the feeling strange not to have her emeralds there.
McGonagall had made her take them off. She knew exactly who had given away the secret powers they held: Nott.
“We should hurry. I can see Theo and Harry coming up from the forest now,” Hermione spun as she watched the two boys sprint up the grassy knoll of the grounds through the telescope.
“What about Weasley? Zabini?” Draco looked back at her quickly.
“Can’t see them anywhere” she replied.
“Why would Red let us ahead like that?” he asked again, gripping her wrist, and forcing her to look at him.
“We’re working together, aren’t we?” she shot back, trying to reference the alliance they had made.
“You tell me, Granger… Are we?” Draco closed the gap between them.
“We need to go,” she replied, moving closer, her stomach in her throat.
“What are you up to? I told you hundreds of times… I made that promise to you, that night at dinner. I made an internal vow to myself; that I’d get your parents' memories back. Don’t ask me to break it just to save my own ass. You’ve saved me too many times……I can’t keep taking from you!” Draco yelled after her as she walked toward the staircase.
“To save us, Draco! To save us!” she fought back.
“I’m choosing you. Will you please…. please understand that?” Tears threatened to spill from her eyes as she pleaded with him.
“We need to amicably agree. What’s the sense in even keeping on going if we aren’t in agreement?” she continued, her voice trembling.
“We have a lead. Let’s not lose it,” Draco said coldly as he moved past her, his cologne in the air as she let one solitary tear escape down her cheek.
He needed to come to this decision on his own, or he’d never forgive her if he felt like she orchestrated the whole thing.
She had already considered trying to lag behind, to tell Harry and Theo to win, but she’d just end up losing Draco in another way.
He needed to find himself, to find them at the end of this.
His footsteps echoed down the wooden steps, and Hermione knew that this tower, this clue, wasn’t making his thinking any fucking clearer.
She remembered when she had suggested they come up here during their first hunt back in September. She watched the black cloud form behind his eyes, obscuring his thoughts. If they were going to be forced to go to Dumbledore’s grave next, she knew that he was internally spiraling, loathing himself even more for every mistake he had ever made.
Standing on this tower, then to the man’s grave that he had plotted to kill but ultimately wavered—as he had at the Manor, none of it was helping Hermione’s cause.
She ran down the steps after him, knowing Harry and Theo would be bursting to the top of the steps any moment. She had her wand ready, but Draco was out of the door before she was.
Two flashes of quick crimson light followed by two thunks as she rounded into the hall and saw both Neville and Daphne lying at the base of the staircase, stunned.
“Theo and Harry must be coming another way. Let’s take the west wing exit,” Hermione said, looking back up at him as he nodded and moved to her side.
Someone would help Neville, right?
Draco ran ahead, his legs taking longer strides. Hermione felt like her lungs were going to explode from her chest trying to keep up; she had clearly forgotten that he was much more fit than she was.
As they descended into the darkness of the West Wing, they threw themselves toward the Transfiguration corridor, barreling toward the large oak doors that led down to the black lake.
She used to take this exit to meet Krum back in the fourth year. She knew it was the fastest exit, and she knew Harry and Ron didn’t know about it; she had made sure to keep it a secret.
The night air parachuted into her lungs, knocking the wind out of her as Draco continued down the steps, looking back toward her as she tried to regain her composure.
“Hermione, are you okay?” he looked worried and ran back to clutch her in his arms, those warm, strong arms.
She could feel his pulse thumping.
“I’m…just… not… as… fast…” she huffed out.
“I’ll slow down,” he grabbed both sides of her head, searching her eyes, those grey storm clouds receding. He grabbed her hand, and they kept going.
She hadn’t been down to the grave since the day of the funeral. Anytime she walked by the lake, she avoided the area. Now that she came to think of it, she was pretty sure that Draco had never been there at all.
The grass was a welcome relief on her feet as she ran, the softness cushioning her aching knees as they rounded to the banks of the shoreline toward the glowing marble tomb.
She looked up to see the glitter of the Draco constellation sitting perfectly above them. The stars have never needed to plead for absolution; theirs an existence of serene observation, a cosmic view unburdened by the need for forgiveness, what she would give for such a life.
His footsteps halted before her eyes drifted downward; he stood just a few feet away—the moonlit lake sparkling behind him.
Every muscle of his body pulsed with oxygen, his hand sweeping through his blond hair, a thin sheen of sweat catching the moon's glow.
She moved closer, he looked ethereal, godlike. Wrapping her arms tightly around his waist, she rested her head against his back, and his hands ran over her arms, his thumb tracing the skin of her scar, as they caught their breath together.
"I've never been here..." he whispered into the night air as they stood before the tomb.
"His death wasn't your fault, Draco... Dumbledore was dying all year; he would have only had a few months longer to live," Hermione spoke gently, breaking away from their embrace.
Draco remained silent, his hand gliding over the smooth marble, the engraved words glowing ivory.
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore – Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
The words moved into the still air in front of them, glowing and dancing, twisting and changing.
Hermione realized they’d need to solve it—an anagram, without having to say anything; Draco must have known, too.
She had to admit it was nice not having to explain every step of the way like she would have if it were Ron or Harry standing beside her. They began to move their wands, just as they heard the echo of wand blasts in the distance and lights erupting from the Astronomy Tower.
Her heartbeat quickened as male voices echoed in the night. It had to be Harry and Theo; they must have been coming out of the front doors.
Hermione's head spun, and thank Merlin it did, as a maroon light shot toward them from behind the hill, and she threw up a shield charm.
“Granger,” Draco said as she spun back, the anagram hovering in the sky.
“In the chamber of secrets, a chalice hides.”
“Fuck,” Hermione felt it was a gut punch.
She knew how to get in, but she didn’t know Parseltongue. Harry did, and Ron had figured it out last May.
“Arresto Momentum!” Draco shot toward Harry, who was barreling down the hill, and his wand batted it away, the anagram in the shining light disappearing as Hermione ran forward.
“Go! They’ll still have to figure out this clue” she screamed as a rainstorm of jinxes and hexes were being hurled at them as they ran toward the hill to get back to the castle.
She noted Harry and Theo being cautious not to shoot too close to the grave.
Respectable, she thought to herself.
“Avis Oppungo!” Hermione yelled toward Nott and Harry, Theo finally tripping as the tiny birds flocked toward them, giving Hermione and Draco their edge to break off over the knoll back toward the castle.
“You know where to go?” Draco yelled at her as she let her feet race back into the massive doors of the entrance hall.
“Yes… but do you happen to know Parseltongue?” she yelled back as she leaped toward the second-floor girls' lavatory.
“What?! No!” he rounded, overtaking her strides. “How’d you get in last year? Without Potter?” he questioned.
“Ronald… he mimicked what he had heard Harry do countless times,” Hermione breathed as they crashed through the girls' bathroom doors.
“Well, if bloody Weasley can do it, I’m sure I can,” Draco barged in, his head swirling around frantically as Hermione walked toward the faucet, the faucet with the serpents entangled. She hated that they were going back down there.
“Let me try.. I’ve heard it enough,” Hermione steadied herself on the sink's basin, looking down as she started the awful hissing noise, Draco standing with a scrunched face.
They waited in anticipation, but nothing happened. Hermione tried again, producing the same unpleasant hissing noise, yet still, there was no response. Draco released a long huff.
“Give me a moment,” she said back angrily and began again, this time getting closer to the faucet.
She tried to mimic the exact sound Ron had made last year, digging into the depths of her memory to find it.
A rumbling sound emanated from under their feet, and the tiles and marble began to shake, creating a sensation akin to a small earthquake. The sink fell apart, giving way to a large tunnel opening.
“It’s not the best landing and a lot of it’s caved in. We’ll need to be careful,” she looked back toward Draco, who gripped her hand as they both stood over the opening.
“I’ll go down first love, then come after me?” he suggested.
Hermione nodded, finally letting go of his hand. The warmth dissipated quickly as Draco steeled himself, plunging down the tunnel, the rock whirling around him, speeding him down.
Seconds after he disappeared from view, she jumped after him, the whizzing of the dank air surrounding her.
She cast a softening charm down toward the bottom of the rocky slide just before she sped into Draco, instantly intertwining with him.
She landed on top of him, sending them both rolling and wrapped into each other.
Draco held the back of her head as they rolled. Once they stopped, he lifted himself off the stone ground with one hand and set her head back down gently.
His fingers tucked a small strand of her hair behind her ear, and he whispered, "You alright, Granger?" in a devilish tone, his lips close, it was the first glimpse of the Draco she loved that she had seen in days.
“I’m alright, Malfoy,” she said back, as he was still lying on top of her.
Their heartbeats were in sync, flighty and erratic. They were both covered in ash and dirt and now drenched from the stale mineral water that had sat at the bottom of this cave for years.
Despite it all, the overwhelming desire to kiss him pumped through her and she crashed her lips onto his, and he greedily sank back into it, running his hand through her rat's nest of hair.
They were twisting together like the interlocking serpents on the faucet miles above.
“Theo! It’s already opened! They can’t be much further ahead” Harry’s voice rang down, snapping them back to reality.
They needed to move.
Chapter 56: The Final Hunt Part.III
Chapter Text
It wasn’t lost on Harry the significance of the final clue: Dumbledore's grave. It marked the very divide that separated Death Eaters from members of the Order of the Phoenix. Two years prior, at that pivotal juncture, allegiances were cemented.
Harry and Hermione stood on one side, while Theo and Draco stood on the other.
Now, in a convergence of time, they found themselves bleeding together at the very place that had torn the fabric of the Wizarding World apart.
Harry didn’t trust that Draco would come around in the end. He knew exactly what it was like to sacrifice oneself, and how it felt to feel as if everyone around you had given up everything for your sake. He understood it the most.
He had walked into the forest last year with the intention of dying so everyone else could live. Draco seemed to want to rot in a cell so Hermione could have her dreams and her family.
It all came back to love. The undying, relentless persistence of love. Harry's love for Theo, Hermione's love for Draco, and Draco's love for Hermione, even as misguided as it felt right now. It was all for love.
Draco mirrored himself in a way they both knew—haunted by the knowledge that others had sacrificed; for them to have the chance to make the right choices. They had prospered and learned from their mistakes, living lives shaped by those who came before them and died for them. He didn’t blame Draco, but he needed Draco to understand it was bigger than just him.
Harry hated how he was repeating what Dumbledore used to preach. He used to think it was silly, but he understood it well now. It was the reason Lupin and Tonks died, it was the reason Fred died, Colin, Sirius, and his parents. It was the sacrifice Harry was willing to make. He was also sure it was the reason Blaise, Ginny, Ron, and Pansy weren’t seen in the last half hour – their own act of sacrificial love.
Harry slammed against the cave floor, the impact jolting through him. He didn’t remember the descent to be so unforgiving—though granted, he was about 40 pounds lighter and three feet shorter the last time he'd been down here. It took moments before Theo's body crashed into his, sending them both sprawling, they were covered in a grimy mixture of dirt, ash, water, and Merlin knew what else.
"My whole body's gonna need fucking icing after this, bloody hell..." Theo groaned as Harry pulled him upright, casting a Lumos spell.
The tunnels smelled the same, that was for sure, but they seemed much more claustrophobic now, as if the walls and ceilings were closing in on them.
"Does Granger know her way around down here?" Theo asked, his voice echoing slightly in the cavernous tunnel.
"She's only been once, but so have I, and it's been longer for me... but if we move quickly, we could catch up to them. There's a caved-in section about five minutes down this tunnel. They'll have to go through one by one... we could separate them there," Harry suggested.
"We have time... it won't matter, even if they get to the Chalice first, they still need to agree on its use. And if what you're saying about Granger is true, and she hasn't changed her mind…. But it's not lost on me that Red and the others are nowhere to be found," Theo quipped as he followed Harry deeper into the cave, the crunch of small animal bones beneath their feet a reminder of the Basilisk's victims.
"Hermione won't change her mind... it needs to be Draco... or we need to finish it for them. I'm not coming all this way to lose you, to lose us. I've finally found the man I want to be, and he doesn't exist without you," Harry confessed, a flicker of hope thumped in his chest as he thought he saw a ghost of a smile across Nott's face, a rare sight since his falling out with Draco.
Harry's mind drifted back to the forest last year, to the ache in his chest as he walked away from Ginny. He had thought that was the most difficult thing he'd ever done.
But in reality, the true heartache came from the emptiness that had consumed him since defeating Voldemort, a void only Theo had been able to fill. Every drop of blood in his body surged for Theo. He couldn't lose him. He would do everything in his power to keep Theo with him, to heal together.
"I understand, you know... Draco's feelings," Harry began as they quickened their pace, the sound of water dripping around them as they navigated through the cave.
”I once tried to run away from Hermione and Ron. It was at the end of the sixth year, after Dumbledore's funeral, and when my trace was about to come off. I hated the thought that so many people were risking their lives, their futures, and their families for me.... When Moody died, I tried to run. Ron and Hermione never would have let it happen, yet they both lost so much for me... Hermione especially."
They arrived at the part of the cave where the collapse had occurred, blocking Ron's path and forcing Harry to confront the first Horcrux—the moment that had unknowingly set the course for the Horcrux hunt years later.
"Do you remember when everyone thought you were the Heir of Slytherin?" Theo chuckled. "Us actual Slytherins never believed that, by the way," he added with a hint of amusement.
"It would have been nice to say something," Harry smirked in return.
"Back then? Never. We were told to keep quiet about it... Of course, Malfoy never was. Always the investigator. I guess he's part of the reason you had to come down here to save Red," Theo probed.
"It's not because of Draco... I don't blame him for what his father did," Harry replied firmly, Theo’s probing seemed almost as if it were a question about himself.
"Of course you don't," Theo said with a knowing nod.
"We're almost there... I remember this place now... just up ahead, there will be two intertwined stone snakes guarding the chamber entrance... Hermione doesn't speak Parseltongue, honestly, I have no idea how she and Ron are mimicking me that well," Harry said incredulously.
"You are very mimickable," Theo laughed, earning a disdainful look from Harry.
Theo and Harry were cautious not to run too fast down the corridor, the shredded Basilisk skin still scattered on the ground.
It was slippery, and one misstep could easily take one or both of them out. Harry was terrible at healing spells; he figured Theo might be good at them. Theo was good at everything.
"This place... it's... I can't explain it. My whole life, I was so proud to be a Slytherin. We were ancient, true legacies... But seeing this... seeing what the founder of our house did - what kind of wizard would build this in a school full of children?" Theo questioned as they stood in front of the doors, wands gripped tightly in their hands, aware that Draco and Hermione could be on the other side.
"Once this door opens, duck. Immediately drop to the floor... I have Draco. Distract Granger..." Theo instructed.
"We don't even know if they're in there," Harry remarked.
"They're in there, Potter..."
Harry nodded, but as he opened his mouth, the sound that came out was the exact one he had made years ago—a language he heard in his head as English, but now knew to be Parseltongue.
Theo's eyes gleamed with a malevolent glint as he looked toward Harry, almost proud.
Theo was deranged like that, and Harry liked it.
"Do you trust me?" Theo whispered as the stone doors began to unclick and rumble open.
"Not really," Harry smirked, and Theo smiled back, taking them back to the smashed room full of Remembralls.
"NOW!" Theo screamed, and Harry dropped to the floor as a forcefield of ruby-red light zipped over their heads.
Theo tucked and rolled, firing off hexes faster than Harry had ever seen. Harry looked up to see Hermione running from behind the corpse of the Basilisk, and Draco doing his best to dodge and block Nott's rapid fire.
Hermione and Draco hadn't reached the Chalice yet.
Where the hell was the Chalice?
Harry scanned the room but didn't see the ominous green glow of the cup.
"Where's the Chalice?" Harry screamed, slipping on the wet chamber floor as Hermione remained tucked behind the skeleton, shooting hexes his way, all of which Harry managed to block.
"We don't know!" she screamed back as Harry countered with an Impedimenta jinx.
Theo and Draco were locked together, their wands moving with such precision that jets of light ricocheted off each other without the need for blocking spells.
Harry had never seen anything like it from two wizards; it was as if he was watching Voldemort duel McGonagall, Kingsley, and Slughorn again, yet all four of them wrapped into just Nott and Malfoy.
"Bombarda!" Harry shouted, aiming his wand at the bones which Hermione was hiding behind.
The skeleton erupted, causing Hermione to scream loudly and jump into the flooded sunken floor below. Her scream caught Draco off-guard as his wand swung immediately toward Harry—it worked. To get to Draco, he had to get Hermione.
A ferocious Confringo jinx was aimed directly at Harry's head, but he dropped again, giving Theo a chance to shoot an Impedimenta at Draco, who barely dodged it, his foot slipping in the thin veil of water that covered the floor.
"You're getting sloppy, Nott," Draco growled, shooting another flash of tidal wave blue light at Theo, who blocked it and slid closer to the mouth of the Salazar statue.
"I'm just warming you up... I've always enjoyed foreplay more than finishing first," Theo retorted sharply.
Hermione aimed another hex at Harry, the two of them engaging in a strange game of hide-and-seek ping-pong.
He despised being on the receiving end of Hermione's bloody spells.
"Aculeus!" Harry shot at Hermione. The stinging jinx zapped her arm, and she let out a small shriek, her hair frizzling.
"Fucking ouch, Harry!" she yelled.
"Sorry!" he yelled back, seizing the moment to dive into the basin of water between them. He needed to disarm Malfoy; he and Theo were still battling, which must have been exhausting or thrilling them even more, he couldn’t really tell.
Another wordless spell spun from Theo's wand and smashed directly into Draco's beam of light. Harry could see the sweat on their faces, covered in dirt, Draco's shirt ripped-Theo's torn, their forearms pulsating with the strength of the magic emanating from their wands.
"Stop being such a fucking idiot, Draco," Theo grunted in a yell that seemed to drain all his energy as they remained fastened in their duel.
"I'm not letting you win, Theo! You'll have to beat me!" Draco roared back, while Hermione frantically searched around the Salazar statue.
Harry knew the Chalice wouldn't be hidden in plain sight; there had to be something else concealing it, something they needed to do for it to reveal itself.
But what? Harry was desperate, perhaps grasping at straws, but this duel couldn't last all night.
"Theo! I love you!" Harry shouted suddenly, his voice echoing in the chamber. Hoping that somehow, his declaration of love might trigger something. Remembering the sentiment that love conquered all.
"Harry... what?!" Theo yelled back, even Hermione pausing in her search.
"Hermione, I love you too!" Harry screamed again, scanning the surroundings for any sign of revelation, but found nothing.
"Draco... I... uh... I love you too..." Harry continued, his enthusiasm waning.
"Ew, Potter... what the fuck?" Draco retorted scathingly, as Harry looked around, seeing nothing change.
"I'm just trying something! Nevermind... it didn't work," Harry yelled back, diving toward Hermione, who shot another stinging hex at him.
Harry dodged it and began to climb the statue that Theo was standing at the base of. He was almost where Hermione was, grabbing at her foot as she tried to kick him off, muttering to herself.
"I got it! I got it!" Hermione yelled down at him, and Harry's grip slipped as beams of light continued to streak across the chamber behind them.
"You could ask the Chalice to rewrite the memories in others' minds, erasing or replenishing," Hermione screamed.
"Harry... Harry... what could you ask the Chalice?" Her voice grew louder as she urged him for an answer, but Harry was stumped, searching his brain for any clue.
Ah, fuck. He knew it, he knew it.
"You could ask the Chalice for a chance to shed the sins of those who came before you," he finally uttered slowly.
As he spoke, the ground beneath them rumbled, causing both Theo and Draco to slip down into the crevices of the floor.
The chamber quaked, dust and rocks falling from the ceiling as Hermione clung to the statue. Harry's grip finally slipped, and he fell back down onto the solid ground below.
The mouth of Salazar opened again, just as it had years ago when the Basilisk slithered from its depths. The radiating emerald glow from the cup, perfectly perched on the carved stone tongue, almost blinded them.
Hermione was the closest, yet the light seemed to enter all of them. They stopped, stood, stared, completely intoxicated by the energy that now filled the chamber.
Harry hadn't seen the cup since the first time it was revealed, and he forgot the potent hold it had over him. Its magic gripped them like a vise around their throats, squeezing off their airways as all their brains could think about was the glow.
Hermione must have snapped out of it first. Her wand erupted and smashed against Harry's side, thick ropes pulling him tightly together as she moved toward the mouth. Theo rounded back to reality as Harry hit the floor.
"Stupefy!" - but Draco was just as fast, deflecting Theo's spell back at him.
"Draco, I can't... I can't take it unless we agree!" Hermione screamed, her body, her arms, her very existence hanging on the brink of the iridescent shine from the chalice.
"Then agree with me, Hermione!" Draco screamed through his duel.
Even from Harry's bound vantage point, he could see that Draco and Theo were exhausting their magical reserves, and their bodies along with them.
"What's the point in standing here dueling me, when Granger is right behind you... you're the ones truly dueling!" Nott yelled back at Draco.
"I'm not taking this from her..." Draco roared in frustration. "I'm not letting you lose your parents forever because of me," he rounded back to Hermione. "I've taken enough from you! I won't take this," Draco screamed into existence, and Harry looked up to see Hermione shaking, her jaw twisting as she looked back at him with pain.
"You're a fucking idiot, Draco, bigger than I thought... you didn't take anything from her! I DID!" Harry's throat seemed to rip at the hoarseness of his words.
Hermione's eyes darted down to where Harry was trapped on the floor, and for a moment, he saw Draco's grey steel orbs flash over.
"I took from her, over and over again! From the moment we became friends eight years ago... I took from her..." Harry screamed again.
"Harry..." Hermione said with a whimper.
"She's helped me through every test, given me her knowledge, her time, and dedication to whatever I've asked of her, whether she believed I was right or not. She's been petrified, cursed, carved... ALL BECAUSE OF ME!” Harry pushed further.
“She came with me in fifth year, knowing I was wrong, knowing it was a fucking trap. She almost died in the Department of Mysteries. She gave up her parents so they wouldn't die or be tortured because of ME! She took the time to disfigure ME when the Snatchers took us, instead of trying to escape. She paid the price for me over and over and over again! I took from her, Malfoy, not YOU!” Harry paused.
“You and I aren’t all that different, I know exactly what it’s like to have everyone make sacrifices for my own sake, to have people give me their everything even though I felt like I didn’t deserve it. The only thing you'll take from her will be her happiness if you don't let us do this... If Hermione did all that for me, she'd go to the ends of the earth for you... She'll spend the remainder of her miserable life trying to save you if you make the wrong decision right now..." Harry yelled, gulping at the stale air.
"Out of everyone in this fucking room, in this fucking castle… she deserves this, she deserves happiness the most... You haven't taken anything from her; you've given her a new reason for a new life... But you're too bloody stupid to see it!" Harry finished; his voice raw.
Theo finally released his wand, his chest huffing and raggedy, his entire body slumped in exhaustion. Draco stopped dead in his movements, staring intently back toward Harry as he struggled against his ropes. His eyes pierced into Harry's skin; his face full of malice. Harry had seen it before, the moment before Draco tried to Crucio him in the bathroom in sixth year. Harry almost flinched before Draco twisted his head toward where Hermione stood, motionless and wordless.
Harry saw Malfoy’s eyes soften, and his body relax.
“I was so terrified of what I felt for you for so long. But once you let me in... I can’t lose you. Let me choose us. Let me be selfish,” Hermione said softly, her words directed to Draco as if she were truly only speaking to him.
Harry's heart pounded with a dangerous rhythm in his chest as he looked into Hermione’s eyes, watching a solitary tear tracing down her cheek. Despite the anguish on her face, she managed a fragile smile that shined through the pain.
The trials of this year's project had become a lifeline, giving Harry a sense of purpose he hadn’t had. Looking back on the journey they had all undertaken since Dumbledore's passing, the pivotal moment that marked a shift in the tides of war, Harry knew he had finally shed the sins of his past—the weight of the war, their father's and mother’s legacies, and the complexities of Dumbledore's influence, so had Theo and truthfully, so had Draco, and Hermione.
"You hold the power to completely shatter me, Granger, and I'm still so willing to let you,” Draco’s words barely above a whisper.
Theo's eyes remained fixated on Hermione's trembling hand, yet they flickered momentarily towards Harry.
Harry caught a glimpse of Hermione's sudden movement out of the corner of his vision-with a gasp, he turned back just in time to witness her entire body lurching forward, propelled by a force beyond her control, towards the Chalice.
Before Harry could react, a blinding green light erupted, engulfing his senses as though he had been thrust into the heart of a blazing sun.
Theo was the last thing burned into his mind.
Chapter 57: In View of Time
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Hermione was ensnared within the labyrinthine corridors of time itself, trapped in a disorienting sway between past, present, and future.
Every fiber of her being seemed to meld with the essence of the temporal fabric, leaving her suspended in a state of limbo.
The air zapped with energy as if reality itself was tearing at the seams, and amidst it, voices ebbed and flowed like waves crashing against unseen shores. A cacophony surrounded her, she was blind to where she was, engulfed only by a green ethereal glow.
Questions swirled within her mind—was this all a figment of her imagination? Had she grabbed the Chalice? Where was Draco? Harry? Theo?
She was touching something—lying on something soft, pillowy, comfortable... like a bed made from heaven's clouds.
Fucking hell, had the Chalice killed her? Was she dead?
Voices grew louder around her now, as the glow dissipated, and pixelated colors and structures began to reappear in her eyes.
She could feel her body again; it was sore, fucking achy-ripped to shreds. Shots of white-hot pain ran through her as she stretched out her legs.
"Mione? Mione?" The voice ringing in her ears was one she knew all too well. Ron. Ronald.
"Ron?" she croaked, barely able to get it out.
A swirl of red hair came into view, with another dark figure and a pretty face with short black hair beside them.
"She's waking up!" another voice rang out, softer. Ginny.
"Where am I?" Hermione continued, her eyes adjusting to the muted light around her. Faces were coming into focus: Zabini, Parkinson, Ron, Ginny.
Where was Draco?
"Where's Draco?" she pressed, trying to sit up.
"Ah... Malfoy... Nott and Harry are still unconscious. Apparently, the magic in the Chalice really kicks the shit out of you," Ron's voice came in a humorous tone, one she knew covered his worry.
She turned her head to see the white-blond hair of a disheveled Draco lying in the bed beside her. Then she turned again to see Harry and Theo to her right.
"Did it work?"
"Did what work?" Ginny asked politely.
"Give the girl a moment, give the girl a moment!" McGonagall's voice rang out down the hallway.
Hermione noticed Harry and Theo beginning to stir beside her as she looked over to see if Draco was as well.
"Ms. Granger!" McGonagall rounded on them, followed by Kingsley and Percy, all three looking delighted.
"Did it work?!" Hermione pressed again.
"Did what work?" McGonagall asked.
"The Chalice... the inquiry..." she pushed, noticing Harry's eyes open and groaning. Kingsley moved to his side to see if he was alright.
"The inquiry? Do you mean into the project? You haven’t heard yet. The three of you have been unconscious for about twelve hours now, but last night, during the Final Hunt, a terrible incident occurred in the filing and storage rooms of the Ministry, into the Department of Mysteries. An Unspeakable... an experiment gone wrong...... The entirety of the floor is vanished... records, memories, and data from the last five years are all gone... Thank goodness all records predating were stored in Gringotts. The catastrophe has caused such a stir; unfortunately, it has overshadowed the winners of the Scavenger Hunt, and the inquiry has been dropped immediately by the Wizengamot... I do apologize, Ms. Granger, and Mr. Potter, for the eclipse in recognition, I understand how hard you've all worked," McGonagall said kindly, and Hermione’s eyes flashed toward Harry, who also lit up.
"All of it's gone?!" Harry asked toward Kingsley and Percy.
"All of it... an absolute disaster," Kingsley finished.
"Regardless, we will be sure to let everyone know the winners... Congratulations, Harry Potter and Theodore Nott, on winning the 1st Annual Unity Project Scavenger Hunt... I do hope that you used the Chalice wisely, and if you both don't mind, when you're conscious and up to it, we still need an interview with the Prophet. Photos as well," Kingsley finished, and Hermione smirked even harder.
It had worked, it all had fucking worked.
She could have cried with joy. She barely felt her beat-up body as unfiltered joy unfurled through her, and Harry looked thoroughly confused.
"Theo and I didn't win..." He began, but Hermione cut him off.
"Really, Harry... the way you two beat us just in the last moments before grabbing the Chalice, it is truly what you wished for..." she smirked over to him, and Harry looked back in shock.
"Honestly, Draco and I don't need any more press, and you both deserved it…" she added, and Harry finally understood, looking slightly disgruntled but reluctantly happy.
"Ahh right. Well, thank you. Do you mind giving us a moment? Professor? Minister? Percy?" Harry added, and they all nodded at each other, Percy giving Hermione a small smile.
Had that also worked?
It seemed like everything she had asked the Chalice for thus far had come to fruition - erasing the evidence of Operation Thorpedo and ensuring nothing could ever come out, erasing the Ministry's memory of it - Kingsley, Percy, Dawlish, the other Aurors - also just because Hermione was sick of being in the papers, she wanted to ensure everyone believed Harry and Theo had won.
It seemed it had worked.
"Fucking hell, Blaise, that cologne could wake a man out of a coma. Maybe lay off it a bit," Draco groaned beside her, and Hermione jumped from her bed without realizing how sore and tense her body was. Ginny caught her before she fell, and Draco reached out to grab her.
"Easy, love... Nott and that Chalice beat the shit out of me too," Draco smiled as she fell into his arms, tears streaming down her face.
"I did beat the shit out of you, didn't I?" Nott's groggy voice stirred from the bedside that Harry was leaning over.
"Where was the final clue? McGonagall said something about the Chamber of Secrets? Don't know why they keep getting students to go down there- fucking mental," Ron gasped.
"So you all know?" Draco said in a darkened tone.
"I don't know what you're talking about, Malfoy. We don't know anything beyond the fact that we never seemed to make it past the Astronomy Tower. Someone accidentally blew up the board," Ron huffed, and Hermione's heart warmed.
They had all stayed back, all of them.
Even now, the way Ron glanced toward Pansy, he may not have done it for Draco, but he did it for her, for Hermione, for Harry.
"Idiots," Draco pushed back sarcastically.
"The only idiots here are you four. None of us are lying in hospital beds, black and blue," Pansy scoffed, but the smile on her face was contagious.
Hermione looked up at Ginny and mouthed the words "thank you."
She really did owe her best friend.
"Feels a little underwhelming, doesn't it? I wanted a parade of some sort for winning, I always knew we would… I said it from the beginning of the year…. Potter wins everything," Theo quipped, and Harry rolled his eyes lovingly.
"Weasley and I can carry you both through the Great Hall if that's what you want," Zabini laughed, and Ron groaned. "I'm good, thanks. Malfoy can do it."
"I don't even think I can walk at the moment," Draco shot back, wrapping his hand in Hermione's curls.
Never in her life had her heart felt so alive.
"So, you're not up for a celebration then?" Blaise asked the room.
"I could be persuaded... Will Pomfrey let us out?" Draco said with a smirk, and a grunt as he pulled Hermione closer into his chest.
It felt so fantastic and so foreign to be tucked into him like this, so exposed to her friends, yet nobody seemed to care.
"Expecto Patronum," Terriers shot from Ron's wand. "Tell Dean and Seamus that it's on... Pans and I will meet them in the tunnel to get the kegs from the Hog's Head," Ron shouted, and the terrier ran off.
"You've had this planned?" Hermione shot back.
"We thought, fuck it? Why not? The year is almost over, and we survived... again... might as well drink. No use hiding anymore," Ginny smiled over at her and Draco.
"If I can't hide, neither can you," Draco whispered into the back of her earlobe, as her friends' voices erupted around them.
A shiver ran down her body, and goosebumps covered her skin.
“I'll never not fucking love the fact that I can get this reaction from you," Draco said, trailing his thumb down the back of her flesh. "I'm so sorry, Hermione... I was an idiot... I love you. I hope you never doubted that."
"I never doubted it... Misguided, yes, moronic, yes... You love me to a fault, Draco... but you're my family now," Hermione said, pressing a small kiss into his thumb.
"They're my family now," she added, looking over at Ginny and Ron arguing, and Harry helping Theo to his feet while Blaise and Pansy moved over to steady them.
"Good gods... that's depressing," Draco laughed as they followed behind Pansy and Blaise, his arm wrapped around her as they walked slowly together toward the corridor.
His body held hers up, even though she knew it was taking all his energy.
"I'm not helping set this party up, especially if it’s for me – plus, us four are in desperate need of a bath," Nott roared, and he was right; they were all still filthy.
"Such a diva, don’t worry we've got it handled," Pansy quipped
"Wait..." Hermione's mind suddenly flashed back.
"Did anyone ever get Neville and Daphne?" she asked, and there was a small pause.
"Ah, yeah... But we're embarrassed to say how long it took... I'm blaming that one on McGonagall being distracted by the explosion at the Ministry." Ron looked between Ginny and Pansy
"... How long?"
"Till morning……some fifth years finally noticed on their way to breakfast..."
4 Months After the Final Hunt
They Apparated directly into Diagon Alley, outside of Pansy’s storefront. They were late, and it may have been Hermione’s fault slightly.
It was the opening day or rather opening evening; Pansy wanted to have the doors open with passed cocktails, appetizers, and invitations only to make ‘Modern Witch’ more of an elusive brand.
The September sun was still hot in the evening sky. It had been four months since they left Hogwarts and the Unity Project behind.
The Unity Project was seldom discussed after the disaster in the Department of Mysteries on the same evening of the Final Hunt. The story of Harry and Theo winning the Chalice was mentioned in one small article in the Prophet but was completely overshadowed by conspiracy theories and cover-ups, which Hermione knew none to be true. Luckily, the focus had shifted off them almost entirely.
And she did truly mean almost - Hermione navigated the lingering prejudices with resilience, understanding that some would never truly comprehend their shared journeys. Despite whispers and murmurs from those who still harbored animosity towards the Malfoy and Nott families, she refused to let them bother her.
Attending Pure-Blood society events on Draco’s arm during the summer presented its own challenges. While some extended pleasantries and adhered to modern societal expectations, Hermione could sense the underlying disdain and subtle insults. However, she met these challenges like she was raised to - respond with wit and grace.
Her favorite retort came when Pansy’s mother hinted at Draco and Hermione’s relationship being a mere summer fling. So, with a pointed jab about the sizeable rock currently on her daughter's finger and the impending wedding to a renowned war hero, Hermione left her speechless, relishing in the satisfaction of a spluttering Mrs. Parkinson, as she watched her haughty friends giggle behind her.
“Did you not receive your invitation?” Was the last thing Hermione said before she spun with Draco in hand.
Narcissa's kindness and warmth towards Hermione stood out amidst the challenges they faced in the Pure-Blood society. They had an extended afternoon tea, which Hermione felt was a cathartic experience, allowing them to share tears and reopen old wounds. Through their conversation, Hermione gained a deeper understanding of Draco's mother and their family dynamics.
Narcissa revealed that Lucius was aware of his son's relationship but chose not to disclose his exact opinions on the matter. With Lucius still serving time in Azkaban, Hermione decided that she could wait another twenty years to hear them. Meanwhile, Draco maintained his distance from his father, neither visiting nor communicating with him.
"Sorry we're late," Hermione huffed as the shop door rang out.
"Apologies, Pans... Granger couldn't keep her hands off me," Draco quipped, earning a daggered look from Hermione.
It wasn't entirely false; she'd been interning at the Department of International Magical Co-operation and had just begun part-time studies at Cambridge. Draco was fully immersed in Auror training.
Despite sharing a flat purchased by Draco in late June, their schedules hardly allowed for much time together. So, when he arrived home tonight, looking absolutely delicious in his Auror robes, she might have succumbed to the temptation to jump his bones.
"Alright, enough of the steamy details. Could you please lend a hand with these final racks? Theo's proving to be less than helpful, and Ron is nowhere to be found," Pansy said, moving with feline swiftness.
"I'm not unhelpful; I'm ensuring the aesthetic meets our standards!" Theo protested as Harry burst in, still clad in his Auror robes, carrying a large box of shopping bags stamped with Pansy’s logo.
"Perfect Potter!" Pansy exclaimed, and Harry appeared as though he'd sprinted the entire way from the printers.
"Where's Ron?" Pansy rounded on the question again.
"He might be delayed; he got Confunded during training today," Harry quipped, shooting Draco a sideways glance.
"You Confunded him? On a day like today? Really, Draco?" Pansy spat.
"It wasn't my fault; it was part of a training exercise!" Draco defended.
“It kind of was your fault..” Harry added, just as the door rang out, and a dazed-looking Ron burst in, his shirt and pants mismatched as if he'd changed in the dark, carrying a large pink box.
"Ron! Thank Merlin, what's that?" Pansy asked, pointing to the box.
"Cookies! I got them from this Muggle bakery – individually wrapped with your logo. You can hand them out as people leave tonight," Ron said excitedly, and Pansy nearly tackled him, peppering him with kisses.
"Parkinson, you're being unprofessional; you have guests!" Zabini's voice rang out as he and Ginny entered the shop, accompanied by Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.
Neither of them had truly warmed to Malfoy or Nott, but their loyalty to their children, Hermione, Harry, Blaise, and Pansy, they had gradually become more cordial, albeit only when the situation demanded it.
"Ah, it's just young love!" Mrs. Weasley gushed as she embraced Pansy.
"We're so proud, so excited... and to think, just a month away from the wedding!" she continued, clasping Pansy's hand.
Ron proposing to Pansy just a month after leaving school had come as a shock to everyone. Hermione was genuinely happy for him. Harry and Ginny had even helped pick out the ring. It seemed like Ron had matured in Pansy's presence, dedicating his free time to her store and various causes.
Draco and Ron still remained frosty towards each other, perhaps they would eventually thaw, or maybe this was as good as it would get. At least the jabs between them were becoming lighter.
"Hermione, your lipstick is smudged..." Ginny whispered to her, and Hermione panicked.
Draco had thrown her onto their island counter, and she probably looked almost as disheveled as Harry and Ron. Blushing, she turned to wipe it off just as the bell rang again, announcing the arrival of a lengthy line of invitees to the store. Among the first were Neville and Daphne.
Daphne and Draco had attempted to reconcile somewhat after the Final Hunt, but Hermione doubted they would ever be close friends again. Honestly, she was fine with that. She could only tolerate one of Draco's former conquests being in their friend group, and even then, she wasn't sure if she truly counted Pansy.
"Wait... wait... before we go any further, I'd like to say something," Ron said as he grabbed a glass of champagne and held it up.
"Not another speech, Weasley!" Nott laughed, but Ron waved it off.
"I once said that without the Unity project, I wouldn't have had the opportunity to get to know the best thing in my life... I was talking about you, Pans. Although many people at the time didn't know that, and I'm not sure if you even knew it. But I meant every word. You've made me a better man, a better partner. I had told my friends that in no universe could I imagine us getting along well enough to work together, and I'm so thankful I was wrong and it is indeed this universe. You mean the world to me. I'm so proud of you and can't wait to be your husband. Cheers," Ron said, eliciting a roar of applause. Pansy stood slightly teary-eyed, and Hermione smiled at Draco, who even clapped with a tug on his lips.
"I think he's smarter when he's Confunded," Draco leaned over to Hermione.
"Stop it," she laughed back.
2 Years After the Final Hunt
It had become a tradition for Harry to host Christmas Eve at Grimmauld Place. It was the second year he and Theo had hosted, bouncing back and forth between Nott's Estate and Grimmauld, neither willing to fully give up the other's residence. It had become a point of contention between them.
Ron, Harry, and Draco were now Aurors, but Draco had begun to experiment with potions on the side, developing and marketing them. It was proving to be quite lucrative; as if he needed more galleons.
Hermione continued her work at the Ministry and her college coursework. She had dropped a few classes after finally admitting she was overloaded, but both she and Draco remained busy.
Ron and Pansy had moved out of the flat above George's shop and bought a beautiful chalet-style home outside London. Pansy's shop was thriving so much that she was opening another in Paris. Their wedding had been absolutely stunning, in typical Parkinson fashion – clearly, she had planned the entire thing down to the smallest detail.
Ginny was soaring with the Holyhead Harpies, making a massive splash in the Quidditch community. She had swiftly become a fan favorite, and it seemed she couldn't go anywhere without someone wanting a photo or an autograph. She was nearly eclipsing Harry in terms of fame.
Meanwhile, Zabini's wineries had expanded, while he worked at St.Mungos as a Healer, and he and Ginny had a flat in London. However, between their busy schedules, their relationship mirrored Hermione's and Draco's – they were constantly grasping at the straws of time they could spend together.
Hermione stood making margaritas again, much to Theo's amusement – she feared she'd have to do it every year as Nott would beg. As she moved by the bar, their group of friends surrounded the living room, captivated by a frivolous story Theo was telling.
Draco's eyes remained locked on hers as she tapped the blender, and then he playfully gestured towards the staircase. Hermione felt that heady rush, reminiscing about sneaking off upstairs during their first Christmas together.
"I think Blaise is going to propose," Ginny said, taking a long drink of the margarita Hermione had just finished making.
"You do?" Hermione asked quickly.
After Ron and Pansy got married, Draco had been acting strange – sweaty and nervous. It wasn't until Hermione had dragged it out of him that he confessed he had been thinking about marriage a lot, specifically marriage to her. That had completely floored Hermione. At the time, they were freshly out of school, and new to their lives and jobs. She wasn't ready. She told him that, and he seemed disappointed at first. But after Auror training and months of grueling work, he seemed to understand her sentiment.
However, it had been almost two years since that conversation.
Was she ready now?
Was Ginny ready?
She knew she was going to spend her entire life with Draco – she didn't need a ring to prove that. But she also knew Draco. She knew he'd love calling her his wife, spoiling her with an opulent jewel that flaunted she was taken. His.
"He's been acting bloody batshit – all these weird owls in the early morning, conversations with Mum and Dad, and now he's trying to plan a trip to Amalfi right before Quidditch season starts back up," Ginny added.
"Well... you're going to say yes, right?" Hermione questioned.
"Of course, I am. I'm madly in love with him. I just need to lay expectations clear. I want to be like Ron and Pansy, and wait a while before we start having children. I'm at the height of my career; I can't stop now," Ginny smiled.
"I think Blaise would do literally anything you wanted to do," Hermione laughed.
"Ugh, I know. He's a god," Ginny laughed back
"Can you imagine... this almost wasn't our lives, without the Unity Project, I mean," Ginny said, a twinkle in her eyes as they both looked towards their friends.
"I think about that often... we could have married Ron and Harry," Hermione said, and Ginny laughed harder.
Hermione did indeed think about it often. She noticed that Hogwarts and the Ministry continued the Unity Project Scavenger Hunt, just as they had promised.
Every now and then, a small blurb buried in the back pages of the Prophet highlighting some of the partners or hunts would catch her eye, and Hermione always found herself reading it, hoping another group of kids would find their way after being lost for so many years, just as they all did.
It truly was her saving grace.
The Unity Project wasn’t the only article buried in the Prophet, over the last few years, mysteriously, bodies of the "Missing" Death Eaters were found. Cause of death or killers unknown.
She never asked Draco about it. She'd read the paper, then toss it, but she was positive it was orchestrated by Harry and Draco and honestly, maybe even Ron.
They hadn't talked about Operation Torpedo since the night of the Final Hunt. Nott and Draco still carried their Dark Marks, but they seemed to be fading with time. Draco said he always needed the reminder of his past; he'd use it to raise their family differently.
4 Years After the Final Hunt
"Do I look like a cunt?" Draco ran his hands through his hair once more, palms sweaty. Looking at himself in the mirror, clad in deep black trousers and midnight robes, topped with a white high-collared button-up.
Blaise and Theo stood behind him, as he kept running his hands down his arms to straighten them up.
“It's one of the few times I've looked at you and thought you haven't looked like a cunt," Zabini remarked with a smirk.
"Draco Malfoy isn't nervous, is he?" Theo wiggled his robes.
"No, of course not," Draco lied.
Of course, he was nervous. He was marrying Hermione Granger, and in twenty minutes, she would walk down the aisle.
They'd be surrounded by their loved ones, and he wasn't sure if his heart would be able to handle the sight of her. His brain couldn't comprehend how this had become his life. After everything he had done, he still felt like the luckiest man alive.
"I wasn't this nervous when Ginevra and I got married," Blaise quipped casually as he sipped another dram.
"You were both drunk off your asses on Limoncello in Capri... none of us were even there," Draco shot back.
Ginny and Blaise had been married for about two years; he proposed after last Christmas, and the two idiots thought it would be better just to get married on the spot. He thought it was very on-brand for Red, and of course, Blaise would never say no.
"Exactly why I wasn't nervous," Blaise chuckled.
"Should Potter and I get married? We haven't really talked about it..." Theo asked, looking at himself in the mirror.
"I'm surprised you haven't, for the sole fact that you would have a day where everyone's attention would be on you," Draco quipped back.
"Good point... I hadn't thought of that," Theo joked back as the door opened.
Pansy stood in a long black gown, clutching the hand of her two-year-old son Fred. Regardless of Draco's thoughts on his father, he truly enjoyed spending time with their son. He noticed Hermione's eyes every time Draco held Fred or let him whizz around on his broom. It was something he thought about a lot –children.
Hermione had even helped bridge the gap between Draco and his Aunt Andromeda. Their first few interactions had been uncomfortable, but eventually, after opening up about the Fourth Hunt and how he had finally spoken to his cousin Nymphadora, it seemed to break open the dam. She had sent Teddy to the wedding, although his aunt decided to stay behind. Draco knew that Andromeda still couldn't forgive her sister, his mother. He had even given her the copy of The Hobbit, with the inscription she had once written for Narcissa. Again, good versus evil always seemed so simple when written on paper.
"Are you ready?" Pansy asked as Fred kept trying to grasp at the hem of Draco's robes.
"Only if little man will walk up with me? What do you say?" Draco asked, leaning down and scooping Fred back into his arms. Pansy, Blaise, and Theo followed him down towards the rose garden where guests were waiting, it was an intimate wedding, with no more than twenty attendees.
As he stood at the altar, she appeared like a fallen angel, gliding towards him.
He knew it wasn't some distant heaven the Muggles spoke of because it was here, right in front of him: Hermione, embodying a goddess in a silky white dress that delicately clung to her. Her curls cascaded wildly, the untamed mess he fucking loved, and she radiated a golden glow.
He felt his heart pounding, each beat seemingly drawing her closer; she was his, forever.
14 Years After the Final Hunt
"Granger, you're going to be late!" Draco roared down their upstairs hallway, as she hurried toward the floo.
It was the fifteenth anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, and the celebration aimed to honor the victims and heroes. Hermione had to make a speech, but only if they got there on time.
Draco ran his hand through his hair in anxiety. He hated these things - the wounds of war had healed over time. Draco's dark mark had faded even more over the years, yet the ink, now a more subdued black, was still discernible.
He wasn't ashamed of it; he was one of the few who still bore the mark, who were alive and free, who got to right their wrongs, who got a second chance, besides Theo.
"I was helping Topsy put Larya and Scorp into their bedtime routine. Are you sure she can handle the two of them all night? Scorp has been wild all day," Hermione expressed.
"Yes, of course she can. Now, let's go, unless you want Weasley to make that speech," Draco urged.
"Also, when you yell at me, shouldn't you be yelling 'Malfoy'?" Hermione teased, referring to her hyphenated last name – a very Granger thing to do.
"Old habits die hard," he winked, wrapping his wife in his arms as they stepped into the Floo.
The ceremony was relatively painless. Many of the old prejudices had died a long time ago. It took years for some to overcome their reservations about Draco and Hermione's marriage, as well as Theo and Potter's. But time truly did help heal wounds.
There was a moment in time when Draco was certain he'd never feel the way he did now – like a man reborn; as if he deserved this chance. But then came fatherhood, and with it, a clarity Draco had never known. Watching Hermione become his wife, the mother of his children, was like witnessing the dawn after a long, endless night.
At that moment, all the doubts, the fears, the stupid fucking notions of giving it all up – they seemed so trivial, so inconsequential. How could he have ever considered walking away from something so precious, so beautiful?
If he had a time-turner, and Draco could face his younger self and speak words of wisdom born from the scars of experience, he’d tell himself this: it's a sick and twisted unpredictable journey. It has a knack for throwing fucking hexes, for testing your resolve in the most unforgiving of ways. He wouldn't sugarcoat it, wouldn't dress it up – life can be fucking cruel.
He wished that his children, as well as their friends' children, would never have to endure the trials, the bleeding fucking hearts, the agonies that they did. But Draco knew that life didn’t always grant such wishes.
Their children would ultimately go to Hogwarts, where they would learn about the deeds of their parents – the heroes and the villains.
They arrived at the Nott-Potter estate directly after the ceremony. After years of battling over where their family would live, they had decided on the Nott Estate. Though Grimmauld wasn't empty – Harry still kept it – it was important to Theo that a Nott would be raised in his ancestral home, "the right way," as he put it.
"Who else is bloody ecstatic our children aren't here?" Pansy laughed as she and Weasley were already pouring the champagne.
"I get nervous leaving them too long," Hermione admitted, and Draco knew she wasn’t lying; she had been antsy all night.
"Not us. Fred's going to Hogwarts in September, and we couldn't be more thrilled. Then we only have one year left before Rose does. We are counting down the days," Ron roared with enthusiasm.
"We've taken bets... we both seem to agree that Fred will be in Gryffindor, but Rose... Slytherin, maybe Ravenclaw," Pansy smiled widely.
"You shouldn't be taking bets on what houses your children will be in!" Hermione scolded.
"Oh, Harry and I have also placed ours. Sirius is too young for us to completely know yet, but we have galleons on Fred for Gryffindor, Rose for Slytherin, Blaise, and Ginny – Arthur will be Gryffindor, and we think Larya and Scorp.. sorry Hermione, both Slytherin,"
"Fucking right," Draco quipped, earning a scolding look from Hermione.
"We aren't setting them against each other so young,"
"We don't need to worry, 'Mione. It's all about Unity," Ron joked, looking around the room at the collection of friends they had become over the years.
If fourteen years ago someone had told Draco he would be standing in this room, with these people, and Hermione Granger would be his wife, he would have fucking laughed in their face. But now, he wouldn’t give it up for anything.
Hermione stood alone on the balcony, bathed in moonlight, while their friends laughed downstairs. Draco could see the goosebumps on her arms and the faint outline of her nipple through her dress from the chilled air.
"Cold?" he asked darkly, with a smug grin. She looked down and wrapped her cardigan around herself in a huff.
"When did we get so old?" she asked, turning to look at him.
To him, she looked exactly the same as she did fifteen years ago, if not more beautiful if that was even possible.
"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm not old," he smiled back, and she gave a small sigh as she let herself fall back into his arms.
They swayed softly together as he held her, her messy hair resting against his chest as they looked over the Quidditch pitch and the pool they used to menace as teenagers.
He delicately pulled back her hair with his fingers, tracing over the Gems of Endor that he had given her a long time ago. He didn't remember a day where she had taken them off, besides the final hunt.
"I remember the night I gave you these," he said softly.
"I do too. I gave you books in return," she laughed.
"Don't... I loved those. I still do. I'll re-read them now and then," he admitted.
"Do you?" she asked, intrigued.
"So do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us," Draco quoted "I think about that script a lot... I'll love you in every moment of this life, and the next... I've decided exactly what I want to do with the time that has been given to me, with the second chance I've been given, the second chance you gave me... I’ll never waste it”
She smiled, and let out a small whisper into the night.
"To your new adventure, HG,"
He leaned into her, whispering back —correcting—no, updating.
"To our new adventure, HGM,"
Notes:
Thank you so much to everyone who has been a part of this journey. I wanted to try and wrap up this story as lovingly as possible without dragging it out any longer.
I probably could have had tons more chapters of fun – maybe I’ll do some one-shot spin-offs because I love this little friend group.
I hope the ending is what everyone was looking forward to and healed a small part of the heartbreak we had seen in the last few chapters.
Lots of love to you all for liking and commenting!
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