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Chapter Text

“Bend over Mudblood.” Draco ordered.
Hermione remained calm and did as she was told. She put her bag down on the ground next to her in the empty classroom. She turned around and bent over the desk. Her skirt was so short that she basically exposed herself when she bent over.
Draco easily pushed down her red lacy thong. He then undid his own trousers. He was already hard. He must have been practially bursting out of his pants.
Hermione could see Draco as he thrust into her solidly and determinedly. Hermione closed her eyes and waited. Draco was aggressive and brutal in his motions. He was young, however, so it didn’t take him long to come. He panted in relief when the deed was done. Self-satisfied.
When he was finished, he removed himself from Hermione’s vagina and stuffed himself back into his pants.
Hermione waited a moment until Draco was leaving to right herself off of the desk. She pulled her pants back up and pushed down her skirt. Her bottom half felt hot.
Draco left without saying a word.
Hermione took the contraceptive potion out of her bag and swallowed it.

Fortunately, Draco had been straight to the point this time, so she could enjoy a leisurely lunch. Hermione walked down to the kitchens to grab some food. She had some soup and a bread roll. The elves bustled around her. It reminded her of the comment Ron Weasley made back in third year, “So basically mudbloods are just house elves you can fuck.” Take it for Ron Weasley to be entirely derivative. Mudblood's position is much more complicated than a house elf’s. Hermione considered her place much more akin to a French courtesan of the seventeen and eighteen hundreds. Of course, many would disagree, but many wouldn’t even know what a courtesan was. Ron Weasley probably wouldn’t know what a courtesan was. A courtesan is a prostitute with a wealthy and upper-class clientele. People can turn their nose up at it, but it doesn’t bother Hermione.

Hermione continued to ponder this comparison throughout Charms. She sat at the back of class and watched. Mudbloods are prohibited from carrying wands. There are not many options for Mudbloods except being a sex worker, a maid or a secretary. Hermione didn’t identify with the term ‘sex worker’. It's not like she takes payments. Hermione looks down at her hand. There was a jewelled ring on each finger. She wore heavy diamond earrings and an incredibly expensive gold and ruby necklace. So no she doesn’t accept payments but she accepts gifts.

She thanks the gods for her looks. She hates the phrase but can’t deny its truth. “What’s worse than a mudblood? – An ugly mudblood.” She has a lot of pure blood callers. More than most. And Its not like she’ll fuck any pure blood. Draco himself was nearly dropped from her list last Christmas.

He came to her room in the dungeons last Christmas.
“Why are you avoiding me?” he asked look slightly dishevelled leaning against the doorframe hot an angry.
“I don’t like the way you speak to me in public,” Hermione replied, folding her arms. She had successfully avoided Draco for nearly a week because he made her give him a blowjob under the table a breakfast.
“I will speak to you however I wish to speak to you.” he growled.
Hermione hit him with a steely glare, “You can. But then you can also expect me to keep avoiding you.”
The muscles in Draco's jaw twitched. He was going to lose it.
Hermione had thought this through. Draco was too important to make an enemy of.
“- or else. We can continue on as we are in private together, but you make me feel slightly appreciated and then you can ignore my existence the rest of the time.” Hermione laid out haughtily.
Something flashed across Draco’s eyes.
“Ok” he gritted out.
They fucked like animals that night. Because Hermione keeps a small secret from him – she likes it. She likes him taking control of her. “Showing her her place,” as he calls it. She will do whatever he orders her to do. Diligently and willingly. Hermione understands it's a bit sick the way their sex gives her such a thrill. She can't help herself. If Hermione weren't so sick in the head, she probably would have found a way to drop Draco ages ago.
A week after that encounter. Draco got her matching gold anklets for Christmas with his initials on them. Hermione understood the horrific symbolism. She was his slave. She wore them on the 27th of December while she was on her knees upstairs in Malfoy Manor, giving him the blowjob of his life.

A note appears on Hermione's desk that jolts her from her thoughts. “Come up to me tonight at around 9 ~ P.” Hermione looked up. She catches Pansy Parkinson’s eye and nods.

The more important you were the better your room. A lot of children of the Scared 28 live in one of the Towers in Hogwarts. Most of the older purebloods have their own rooms. Coming up through the years they may have had to share with one or two but once they complete their O.W.L.S it is almost guaranteed that they will get their own room.

Half-bloods tend to have dorms on the ground floor.

Mudbloods live in the dungeons. They all have their own rooms because there is so much space and there is hardly any of them there. Except that the rooms are not the plush luxury of the upstairs. They are cold and wet and dark.

The only student with his own apartment is Harry Potter. Yes, a half-blood but the Dark Lord’s heir. He can basically do whatever her wants. It frustrates Hermione to no end that he has never shown the slightest bit of interest in her. She hasn’t tried that hard to get his attention to be fair. As a mudblood even looking like you are trying to seduce the Heir could get you killed. They have never even spoken.
She knows he dated Cho Chang in 5th year. After that she doesn’t know if he has shown any interest in anyone else.
Beyond that, he keeps his friend group incredibly small, basically only Draco.

Hermione remembers spotting him one morning, leaving Hagrid’s hut. That was one of the few times she ever saw him alone. He was like a problem Hermione couldn’t solve. She just couldn’t work him out. But if she could, if she could get him on side and win his favour, she would be protected. Very few people could touch her or threaten her.

The final bell of the day rang and Hermione made her way out to the greenhouses. She was alone when she got there, so she dropped her bag and took up her place again in “Carmilla”. Hermione had to go to class, but she couldn’t have a wand, and unless she acquired the textbook through some means other than buying it at a Wizarding book shop or the library, neither places which she was permitted to enter she couldn’t follow along. Hermione cried all night when she found out, back in first year, that she wasn’t allowed into the library. The only reason Mudbloods are even admitted to Hogwarts is to learn basic spells which most proper wizards can do wandless and to prevent them from becoming an obscurial. That and mudbloods can be used for other things. Hermione has tried her very best to repress the Dark Arts lessons in fourth year, where she was used as a guinea pig for the others to practice on.

“Hello,” Neville greets when he enters.
“Hi Neville,” Hermione meets with a smile. Hermione has always been particularly fond of Neville. He is sweet. Technically, he is a pureblood, but his parents were blood traitors, so he doesn’t have the same status. Nevertheless, he has never been interested in Hermione that way. They only meet and enjoy eachothers company.
“I got you ‘Bartimus Crouch: The Minister’s biography’,” Neville said, handing over the book.
“Thank you,” Hermione said, taking the book. Although Hermione couldn’t enter the library herself, nothing stopped a pureblood from getting a book for her. Hermione had to be careful with this desire because if she only asked her lovers for books, that might worry them. No one wants to educate a Mudblood.
Neville sits down next to her, and they fall into easy conversation about their day. Hermione omits any information about who she woke up with and her actions with Draco at the start of lunch.

After an hour, they leave each other. Hermione goes back to her room and completes any homework she has. It is harder without a textbook, but she has built up quite a library throughout the years. She uses the book Neville got her to complete her essay for History of Magic on any key political figure throughout history.

It was in fourth year that Hermione ran into a bit of trouble for doing too well in her course work. When Professor Aurora Sinistra, who teaches Astronomy, unexpectedly posted a class list at Halloween. To everyone’s shock and disbelief, Hermione was top of the class. Draco flew into a rage. He took it much worse than any of the others. Perhaps because he was ranked second.
“Apologise!” he demanded in the corridor outside class.
Hermione notched her head to the side, “For what?” She asked innocently.
“For not knowing your place.”
Hermione rolled her eyes (not her wisest move). “It’s a preliminary class list Draco. It means nothing.”
Everyone had gathered around to watch.
“Get on your knees,” he ordered out through gritted teeth.
Hermione was left at an impasse. On the one hand, if she didn’t do what he said, he could go back and tell his father whatever lies he wanted to and have her killed. Stuff like that happened all the time. On the other hand, she wasn’t going to do so willingly.
“Make me.”
“Ok,” he shrugged “Imperio.”
Draco ordered her to get on her knees and open her mouth. She had no choice but to do so. She steeled herself for the worst. She had never even kissed anyone. She was struggling to remain calm.
Draco came close and bent down. He leaned in to whisper something by her ear.
“This is where you belong mudblood. On your knees. Willing to be fucked in the mouth.”
Then he sauntered off, taking his posy with him.

Hermione was left there for three hours while everyone passed her in the corridors. A lot laughed. Eventually, someone lifted the curse, but Hermione never saw who. Her knees were sore and her jaw ached. She had spent to first hour wildly angry at Draco and every pathetic pure blood in the castle. Hermione spent the next hour reliving what had happened. She spent the last hour deciding that she would not let this happen again. If she was going to be humiliated, it would be on her terms, where she had the power.

Hermione knocked on Pansy’s door that night wearing a baby pink set of silk pyjamas and white feathery slippers, both items Pansy got her for Christmas. Hermione brought a bottle of red wine with her. She was careful not to be seen on the way up. When Pansy opened the door she smiled at the sight and pulled Hermione in. The two sat on the couch until midnight, just drinking and talking. Pansy has a private room in the North Tower with a bed and couch and fireplace.

Pansy told her everything. What was the harm? Who was going to believe what a mudblood said anyway. That was another part of Hermione’s power – secrets. If someone were to perform the Cruciatus on her now, someone would have to answer for it. Pure bloods do not like it when you touch their stuff. Beyond that, they all told her things. She kept their secrets. Discretion was the name of the game. Unless they told each other, Hermione never told them about anyone else she saw. She never told them about how they were in bed, what they were like, and she especially never told them each other’s secrets. Hermione probably knew the most about anyone in Hogwarts. Secrets gave her power. No one wants to piss off the person that they just told their deepest darkest thought to. Equally, no one is going to tell you their deepest darkest thoughts if you talk about other peoples.

By around midnight, both girls a quite drunk. They have moved closer to one another on the couch. The space is hot and smells of spice. Hermione leans in and kisses Pansy, warm and slow. Quickly it gets heated and passionate. Pansy cups Hermione’s face. Hermione nips at Pansy’s bottom lip. Hermione’s hand find Pansy’s breast under her top and squeezes. Pansy lets out a moan. Hermione kisses and sucks on Pansy’s neck as she plans to move down her body. They adjust so Pansy is sitting on the couch in front of the fire, throne style. Hermione makes it down to Pansy’s pussy. It's already wet. Hermione pulls her head under Pansy’s night gown as she moans. Pansy's hands hold in Hermione’s hair. She spread her legs open eagerly. Hermione licks and plays with her tongue along the vulva. Hermione holds on a spot when Pansy pulls her hair slightly. Pansy shrieks and moans increase in intensity and volume until she comes.

Slowly, Hermione gets up from the ground. She kisses Pansy full on the mouth before giving her a moment. Hermione smiles at the idea of being able to dishevel a woman so easily. They cuddle on the couch for a bit. When Hermione is certain that Pansy is asleep, she levitates her back to her bed, pulls on her silk dressing gown and leaves and quietly as she came. Hermione doesn’t like to stay the night. The morning after is best to be avoided. Hermione goes back to her own bed to sleep.

The dungeons were much colder than Pansy’s well lit room so Hermione was excited to make a hot water bottle before she went to bed. She tiptoed down the hall. And entered her room. It was pitch black. Wandlessly, she cast Lumos.
“Impressive.” Harry said as he was suddenly illuminated from his spot on the chair.
Hermione jumped back in shock. She got such a fright she nearly let out a scream.
“Sorry,” Harry said quickly and politely, “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
“What are you doing here?” she asked, the rush of the moment making her forget all her formalities. If she had been expecting him Hermione would have shown Harry extreme deference. In the present case she had not yet gathered herself.
“I came to see you. But then you weren’t here so I figured I’d wait. I must have fallen asleep on the chair and woken when you cast the spell.” Harry smile at the surprisingly innocent explanation.
A rush of excitement burst through Hermione that she couldn’t let show. Harry had come to see her. This was her chance. She bags Harry, and she’s safe. No one would dare hurt the mistress to the Heir. She smiles inwardly.

“What can I do for you, my lord?” she asked head tilted down and away from him.
“There is no need for formalities,” Harry said, appearing much more comfortable in Hermione’s room than she felt at the time.
Hermione didn’t respond. It was best if he led the conversation. Although, he said there was no need for formalities Hermione was not about to get caught disrespecting the Dark Lord’s heir.
“I wanted you to talk to you. But you must promise not to tell anyone what I tell you here tonight.”
“I wouldn’t,” Hermione says, keeping her eyes on the ground.

“I want to kill Voldemort.” Harry says in a rush.
Hermione gasps. Her head snaps up to look him in the eyes. This is high treason. He can’t have said what she thinks he said.
“Obliviate”, she whispers.
Harry looks around in disbelief. “Did you just obliviate yourself?”
Hermione looks at Harry surprised to find him in her room.
“Perhaps. What were discussing?”
“I want to kill Voldemort.”
Hermione is shocked by this statement and immediately obliviates herself again.
Harry pushes his fists to his eyes, frustrated by this exchange.
“Hermione we are just going to keep going around in circles if you keep doing this.”
“Doing what, my lord?”
“Obliviating yourself every time I tell you I want to kill Voldemort.”
“Obliviate.”
“Hermione,” Harry says, grabbing Hermione’s hands “I am going to tell you something and you have to promise me you can’t tell anyone else or oblivate yourself again when I do.”
“I’ve been obilivating myself?” Hermione asks surprised. That certainly doesn’t sound like something she would do.
“Yes you have and if you keep doing it I will get Headmistress McGonagall to put you slopping out the centaur stables with Hagrid for a month, ok?”
“Ok,” Hermione said, not breaking Harry’s gaze.
“I want to kill Voldemort.”
Hermione shucks in a breath. Harry’s gaze intensifies. Hermione’s temptation to obliviate herself after hearing this is very strong. She swallows it.

Hermione breaths in and out before asking, “Why are you telling me, my lord.”
Harry doesn’t pull her up on the whole ‘my lord’ business, just happy that she hasn’t obliviated herself again. “I need someone I can trust who is smart and knows how to play the game.”
Fuck, is all Hermione can think. If she says no, Harry could have her killed. But if she says yes, then she is committing high treason. Fuck, Hermione thinks again. Both choices could lead to her demise but only could bring her to her freedom.
“Do you have a plan?”

Chapter Text

Harry said it was too dangerous to talk so openly in Hogwarts. Even coming to Hermione’s room that night was a big risk. He said he would find a way to contact her tomorrow and they would arrange a time and place to meet to discuss things further. 

Hermione didn’t sleep a wink. Thoughts kept swirling around in her head. Fear and dread curled in her stomach. She didn’t even want to risk writing down any of the issues with her situation. Because what if she wrote them down, burned the paper and then someone asked why she was burning paper or had a secret spell that she didn’t know about that could restore burnt paper. If Hermione got caught planning not only a coup but an assassination, they wouldn’t just kill her, they would destroy her. She could spend the rest of her life being tortured. 

A terrifying image flashed in Hermione's mind of her being kept behind glass, except for where her mouth was held open and fused to a small opening in the glass. Her mouth the only accessible part to the public, and the rest behind glass. ‘This is where you belong mudblood. On your knees. Willing to be fucked in the mouth’ Draco’s words rang in her ear. She wouldn’t even be conscious; she would just be open. A janitor would have come along every night and scrape off scraps of food from a plate into her mouth. School tours would be shown around, and they would stop briefly at her — an exhibit of what happens when you disobey the Dark Lord. 
Hermione decided that there were a few things she needed to find from Harry before she followed him down this certainly doomed path. 

Hermione grabbed a scone for breakfast and took it back down to her room. Even being around the elves made her nervous. What if they could tell something was different? What if there were spies among the house elves? Hermione’s stomach turned. She forced herself to finish the scone just to have something in her stomach. 

Hermione had to go to class. Hermione breathed in and out. She had read about compartmentalisation techniques employed by the US military during the Vietnam War. She just needed to focus on what was important now. She coupled the exercises she had read about with a box breathing technique, and she went to class. 

Their first class was Transfiguration with Headmistress McGonagall. The Headmistress only taught N.E.W.T. students. Although Hermione had never been allowed to practice transfiguration, she enjoyed the class. She understood the theory easily, and Headmistress McGonagall had never gotten the other students to practice their transfiguration on her in class. Beyond that, the Headmistress even gave Hermione a second-hand textbook for her to follow along with the class. It was by far her favourite class. 

Hermione’s next class was a free. If she had chosen to keep on Potions, that would be her class at this time. She dropped Potions as soon as she could. Professor Snape is notoriously one of the most ruthless Death Eaters alive. He hates mudbloods. For four years, Hermione suffered under him in Potions. He didn’t allow her to participate in class despite the fact that they gave out the ingredients, and afterwards, he would make her do all the clean-up. Whatever class she had next, she would just have to miss it until all the cauldrons were clean and everything was tidied away. Only if there was another Potions class on right after them was she allowed to leave the clean-up. Professor Snape’s attitude was that a mudblood’s only place in a potions kitchen would be to assist their master. Hermione has seen Crabbe and Goyle make potions enough times to know that that is a load of rubbish. 
Hermione was halfway through her Transfiguration homework during to free when she saw Harry Potter strut into the Great Hall. Frees were the only time Hermione was allowed in the Great Hall. Even then, there was a convention that she sit down at the first-year side of the Hufflepuff table. Hogwarts: A History never explained where this convention came from. One thing that never happens is Harry Potter striding down the length of the Great Hall to personally hand a note to a mudblood and then striding out. 

Hermione heard the whispers build after he left. Hermione’s eyes went wide with shock when he handed her the note. ‘Oh my god. I’m colluding with an imbecile,’ she thought. 
What on god’s green earth was he thinking? If there was one way to attract attention to each other, this would be it. Short of screaming out her name in public, Hermione couldn’t think of many worse way to communicate with her. 
The note read ‘Meet me at 10 o’clock by the Whomping Willow.’
 Hermione rolled her eyes. At least he had the sense not to sign the blasted note. But if there was a way to kill the Heir before he got them both killed, Hermione might entertain that idea if he continues on with this stupidity. 

At 10 that night, Hermione put on a long black cloak and headed out for a night of treason. Hermione was lucky no one called on her today. She thought Blaise Zabini might, but he has become less frequent since having his head turned by Daphne Greengrass.
Hermione left purposefully as late as she could. If Harry were spotted, most people would be too scared to question him. It was more dangerous for Hermione. 

Hermione felt a spike of irritation as she approached the Whomping Willow and saw no one. Leave it to a pure blood to be late, she thought. As she made it to the outskirts of the tree, she was careful to avoid the malicious tree's branches. She heard a noise. 
“Psst, psst, psst,” 
Hermione turned around and saw nothing.
 Then, suddenly, Harry took down the hood of his cloak to reveal himself as nothing more than a floating head. Hermione nearly laughed at the sight. 
“Get in,” Harry ordered, lifting the inside of his Invisibility Cloak for Hermione to get under. There was no time for conversation. Hermione ducked under and kept close as Harry led the way under the Whomping Willow to a secret passage under the tree. 
Harry kept the cloak on as they walked southeast under the grounds of Hogwarts. 

Hermione idly thought as they went that she was probably one of the only mudbloods ever who had been this close to the Heir. It would have been a great opportunity to grab one of his hairs if she ever felt the need to make a Polyjuice potion and turn into Harry Potter. 

After about a mile and a half of walking, they eventually breached the surface again. They appeared to have found their way into an old boarded-up shack. There were scratch marks along the wall. The place filled Hermione with an uneasy feeling. There was an old bed with a done in a mattress in the corner. Once they arrived, Hermione removed herself from under the cloak. 

Harry sat on the mattress. “I brought some snacks,” he said as if this were some sleepover adventure. Hermione remained standing as Harry pulled out some sweets from his pockets. 
“Come on sit,” he ordered nonchalantly. 
So Hermione sat; right where she was standing on the floor. 
Harry rolled his eyes at how literally and immediately Hermione took the command before sliding off the mattress to sit opposite her on the floor. Harry put the sweets in between them. 

“Firstly,” Harry started, taking one of the sweets “I think it should be set out that we are equals here, you know, no avoiding my eyes, no ‘my lord’ this and ‘my lord’ that, and we get equal share of the sweets.” Harry finishes with a smile, nudging the sweets closer to Hermione. Reluctantly, Hermione took a Peppermint Pastie. 
“Ok,” Hermione agrees slowly, making a mouthful of every syllable. 
She doesn't point out the clear flaw with the command. They can never be equals in this. Harry will always hold all the power. But if the Heir wants to feign a democracy, then so be it. Hermione was well practised in role-play. “Good.” 

“Before we continue however I need to clarify a few things.” Hermione says, looking him in the eye like he asked. She needed to convey the gravity of the situation because his attitude was not reflecting what they were doing. 
“Oh?”
 “Why are you doing this?” Hermione leans in.
 Harry seems surprised that this is where they are starting from. He doesn’t answer right away. Harry takes another sweet from the bag and swallows before answering. He breathes in and out.
 “Remember in fourth year during the Dark Arts class when Professor Umbridge brought you up to the front of the class …” Harry hesitates as if he is struggling to go on, “… and she brought you up to the front of the class to show us the Unforgivables. You hadn’t even done anything. You were just there.” Harry swallows again “You screamed and begged her to stop when she cast the Crusiatus on you. Then she brought us all up to practice. And people laughed. And people laughed Hermione.” Harry grabs a fist of his hair, “like it was funny.”

 They sit in silence for a moment as Hermione thinks about what Harry is saying, or trying to say. Hermione hates that memory. More than all the others. She can’t even describe the pain. How can one describe that level of pain? Hermione was sure she was going to die. It felt like nothing else in the whole world. She stayed in the hospital wing for three weeks after that lesson. 
“I remember you casting the Crusiatus though.” Hermione remembered every student you cast the Crustiatus on her. Some couldn’t, like Neville, like Ron, they just didn’t have the power behind it to really mean it. 

“I did,” Harry responds plainly. “It was easy.” This set Hermione back. It makes her remember just who she is dealing with. “I’d seen it done enough times.”
 Hermione prepared herself to run. There was something wrong about this place, she knew it. “It was brought up around pure bloods. Taught to believe in the purity of the blood. Except no one would ever answer me when I asked about my blood. Why was I better than everyone else when I’m a half-blood?” Harry leaned in a whispered the next part, “My mother was a mudblood.”
 Hermione doesn’t know why, but the drama with which he delivered that line startled a laugh out of her. 
Harry smiled, delighted to have made her laugh and continued, “Even Voldemort is a half-blood. Worse than me too; his father was a Muggle. So I never quite got it. Not until I cast the Cruciatus on you.” Harry pauses and looks into Hermione’s eyes “I am sorry about that.”
 “Thank you.” Hermoine isn’t quite ready to accept an apology for it yet.
“It was my first time ever casting an Unforgivable. In that moment, I understood. It is all about power. To have power, you need to put someone down. You need to take from someone else. Well, that’s shit and I don’t want to do it anymore.” 

Hermoine takes this all in. She still needs to be convinced. “That was years ago Harry.”
“Yeah, I know,” he says, guiltily grabbing tufts of his hair. Something Hermione suspects is a habit of his. “But it took me like a year to really work through all my thoughts. There was a lot of them and there was a lot of denial and guilt. I don’t think its escaped your notice but doing in my father isn’t exactly going to do me any favours.”
“No,” Hermione laughs, “most people would kill for you position.”
“I know,” Harry sighs, “And then it took me like another year to figure out if there was anything I could do about it.”
“And you landed on just killing him?” 
“Yes, well, I have a few ideas, but how about we just take it one step at a time. I just know I need someone to help me with a few parts of the plan.” 
Hermione takes this in. It was an obvious deflection. “You’re not going to tell me the plan.” She shoots, snatching another sweet. 
Harry smiles in a charming, lopsided way that tells Hermione that he is used to people being charmed by his smile. “I need to be able to trust you first, that’s all.”

Finally, a careful mind that Hermione can appreciate. “Fine. Well, first things first, we need to find a better way to communicate,” Hermione throws the note he gave her earlier today at him, “because this attracts too much attention.”
Harry smiles again. For a man who shows no emotion in his daily life and has publicly perfected the image of aristocratic boredom, he sure is a smiley boy. 
“I was going for obvious obliviousness. You know when you don’t see something strange that is happening right in front of your face. Like when Seamus had no eyebrows for a month. I never noticed until they grew back.” Hermione absorbed Harry’s line of thinking for a moment, trying to decide if he was really smart or really stupid. How could he not notice someone having no eyebrows? No one seemed to have been talking about their encounter in the Great Hall, anyways. 
So, perhaps he had gotten away with it. “Regardless, we need to come up with a better plan than you just handing me notes during frees. People will get suspicious. So I’ve been thinking, if people thought we were involved with one another, that would give us plenty of excusable time alone with one another.”
“Involved with one another?”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “Sleeping together.”
“I don’t know,” Harry said, scratching the back of his neck, “I don’t think I can.”
“It’s the best way, Harry.”
“Ok I’ll try.” Harry got up “Come one we better get back. It’s a long walk back to the castle and we’ll both need our rest.”

Harry waited until the end of their class before lunch to enact the plan. Everyone was busy gathering up their stuff, and Hermione was about to leave. 
“Hermione, wait.” Harry called less authoritatively than Hermione would have liked and altogether too friendly. 
“Yes, my lord.” Hermione held her books close to her chest. She directed her gaze downwards in deference. She could feel that everyone had stopped what they were doing and was watching the exchange. 
“G-g-get on knees.” Harry commanded limply. 
 No matter how weak his order was, he was still, fortunately, the Heir. Just as Hermione was about to comply, Draco interrupted. “Wait. Stop.” Draco held out a hand. It was all that she could see as she kept her gaze down. What was Draco doing?
“Everyone get out,” he ordered. 
As the rest of the class quickly scampered out of there, Hermione also tried to take her books and leave. This plan was already going off the rails, so if Hermione could find a way to excavate herself from the situation quickly, then there might still be hope. But Draco held her back, “Not you Hermione.”
‘Shit’ Hermione thought.
Only once the last person had left and closed the door behind them did Draco begin to speak.
“What do you think the two of you are doing?”
“Sorry, mate?”
Hermione couldn’t see their faces, but she could practically feel Draco’s eye roll. 
“Hermione lift your fucking head.”
Hermione took a long breath in and raised her chin. The two men were at least six inches taller than Hermione.
“Do you have anything you would like to say?” Draco asked, and for the first Hermione could see that he was mad. He was trying to hold it together, but he was definitely angry. She didn’t know why he was angry; she just hoped that anger wasn't directed at her.
“Don’t drag her into this." Harry stepped in defensively. He could probably read Draco better than she could, "I just wanted to finally see what you were all talking about. You know get a piece of the pie.”
Draco pinched the bridge of his nose.
 It looked like this response had transformed his anger into more exasperation. “Harry, I have known you literally your entire life; if there is one thing you hate, it’s the way people have sex with mudbloods.”
“I do not,” Harry said indignantly as if he was being accused of something bad. 
“You called it sexual abuse last week.” Draco raises his voice. 
“My views have changed. I decided I was being too judgemental without knowing the full story.”
“So you were going to get the full story by… by what exactly?”
“You know,” Harry shrugged, “doing it with Hermione.”
Draco and Hermione share a glance. Both saying, ‘This man is the worst liar in the history of liars.’
Draco mouths the words 'doing it' before putting both his hands to his face in frustration.
When he lets his hands down, he opens and closes his mouth a number of times, clearly trying to find the best way to approach the problem that is Harry Potter. 
“I’m not going to let you do that,” he finally lands on. 
"You can't stop me," Harry puts simply. 
Draco takes a step back. Harry's right, he can't be refused. As the Heir, his desires are to be granted. From the look on Draco's face it appears that Harry doesn't often remind him of this fact. Perhaps Harry likes to role-play democracy with everyone. 
"You're right," Draco gathers his bag and puts his hands up in surrender, "I can't stop you from doing anything, my lord.” Draco bows exaggeratedly towards Harry. He casts Hermione one last steely look before closing the door behind him.  

Hermione has absolutely no clue how they summersaulted out of that conversation. Hermione had thought there might be a lot of time working in the shadows but, already, this plan which she doesn’t even know the elements of is having real world implications for her.
“Well, shit,” Harry says, “that probably could have gone better.”

Chapter Text

It had been a few days since the incident with Harry, and finally, the weekend had come around. It was a Hogsmeade weekend that Saturday. And Hermione was relieved. The castle would be much emptier. The daggers that all the girls were throwing at her all week were not fun. She knows that if they could get away with it, most people would have pushed her off the moving staircase. None of the guys wanted to go near her, lest they offend the Heir. Draco wouldn’t even look at her. Not even Neville would speak to her in private. Hermione fears she may have miscalculated slightly on the ramifications of her plan. It was peaceful. It was safe. Hermione felt it was unnerving. No one could touch her. She had been fighting for simple safety for so long that this sudden change in the wind terrified her.

Harry and her hadn’t even spoken for the rest of the week. Him merely taking an interest in her was enough to make people run. 

Even Hermione had stopped wearing the jewels she had gotten from other men to signal that she was not available to them. Because why would the Heir want his mistress wearing somebody else’s jewels. Hermione wasn’t quite ready to remove her anklets, however. She had been wearing them for so long it felt wrong to take them off. Sickeningly, they were by far her favourite pieces. Plus, no one could see them when she had socks on. 

With all of this going on, Hogsmeade weekend was a relief. She was permitted to go, but rarely did. In recent years, she only went in the afternoons if one of her older callers who may have left the school the year previously, rented a room above the Three Broomsticks.  For Hermione, it was almost like what it was before she began sleeping with purebloods. It was hard. Hermione didn’t believe people understood how much of a killer loneliness could be. Although Hermione would never consider herself the life of the party, she did like having someone to talk to. 

Hermione had long resigned herself that she was doomed to be alone. Then in fourth year, several Drumstang students came over for two weeks around Christmas on a cultural exchange. One of these students was the famous Vikor Krum. He stopped on the beach one day down by the Great Lake to talk to her when she was reading. All the girls wanted him. But he liked her because she was pretty and smart. Over the next two weeks, they spent a lot of time together just talking. Hermione couldn’t understand it. He knew she was a mudblood, but he kept talking to her. They kept their relationship fairly private, not on purpose; that was just the way it landed.

Then Krum invited her to be his date to the Yule Ball. He shouldn’t have asked her. She bought a nice pink dress because, despite what most purebloods presume, just because someone is a mudblood that does not make them poor. She shocked everyone when she showed up with Krum. She wouldn’t have been able to go to the Ball if Krum had not invited her. It was the first time Hermione felt what it was like to be protected by someone else. It filled her with glee that no one could do anything about her being there with Krum. They danced the entire night. 

That night, under the soft moonlight, they made love. They used Warming Charms to keep them cosy as they undressed each other in the Qudditch stand. They kissed each other slowly. Krum was gentle and kind. He guided Hermione, not minding her inexperience. Hermione still looks on that night with a smile. The things she would do to him now. Hermione lost her virginity that night. Although they have never seen each other since she still writes to him, infrequently. Before he left, Krum left her a signet ring. She wore it for months. But she hasn’t worn it in a while, now. 

When they came back after Christmas, Hermione felt the same but different. Her plan before Krum was just to keep her head down and get through school without being noticed. After Krum, she knew what it was like to feel safe at Hogwarts. She learned that her life could be so much easier if she made the purebloods happy. 

Most mudbloods fall into sex work when they’re older as a last resort. Because they are forced to go to Hogwarts, they don’t have any qualifications in the Muggle world and often feel out of place. Not to mind, going back to the Muggle world always leaves you with the potential to be killed for sport by some idle pureblood. If you were lucky you got work as either a maid or a secretary in some place in the Wizarding World. That was very rare, so most turned to sex work. Hermione did not turn to sex work. She pursued it passionately. 

When Hermione first turned her mind onto this, she knew two things: no pureblood wants to be seen to have an actual relationship with a mudblood, and teenage wizards are randy. Hermione needed to find a way that made it so purebloods could have sex with her, she could then be protected by them, and it was not a social taboo to do so. Of course, as usual, Hermione’s answer lay in books. Over that Christmas, Hermione researched the lives of French courtesans ferociously. She then modelled her plan after them. 

When Hermione came back after the Christmas of fourth year, she came back with a plan. She broke into the library on the first night back after the Christmas break and duplicated several of the Astronomy books. Professor Sinistra gave them a back-to-school test with all the subjects they were supposed to revise over the Christmas break. Hermione tried her absolute best. The following week, Sinistra had the test graded. 
“Well, I was ever disappointed with the results of this exam. I expect all of you to revise your mistakes and do better next time. Only one of you managed to score a perfect mark. Hermione come up here and get your test. You know you could all learn from her. It just shows if you really put in the effort you can do well.”
Hermione was wearing a particularly short skirt that day. But that was not the focus as she went up to collect her test. The room was thick with disdain towards her; she knew it. Especially when she refused to smother her proud smile. When she took her seat back at the back of the classroom, there was just a moment of fear at what would happen next. 

When the class ended, Hermione was slow to collect her things. She needed them to catch her. Hermione made it until halfway down the hall just like last time.
“Stop right there mudblood.” Draco called, once again, followed by his posse. The rest of the class gathered around to watch. When Draco finally made it to her, he stood over her. He radiated anger. He wasn’t as tall as he was now, but still tall enough that she had to crane her neck. 
“I thought you had learnt your lesson from the last time you forgot your place.”
“I don’t know,” Hermione shrugged, “Krum seemed to have a differing view on where my place was.”
“Krum’s not here now,” Draco spat. Hermione remained calm. 
“No, you are. And as I recall the last time you told me that my place was on my knees with my mouth open, if you are really going to so unoriginally as to pull that again I’ll just have to presume that you can’t get it up for a woman.” It took every bit of control Hermione had in her face not to smile as an ‘oooh’ rang out through the crowd. 
“Come with me,” Draco grabbed Hermione’s upper arm and dragged her to the nearest empty classroom. Everyone followed until Draco closed the door shut to the classroom behind them. Hermione thanked whatever gods above that she had hedged her bets correctly that Draco was too self-conscious to be an exhibitionist. 

Draco pushed her top half over one of the nearest tables and held her down while he undid his trousers with one hand. He then pulled up Hermione’s skirt and tore off her underwear. She was wearing plain black knickers that one buys in a five-pack in a department store. This was before men started buying her underwear for her to wear. It takes Draco a little bit to get his penis into Hermione’s vagina. She was so tight. Hermione was careful to make a bit a noise but nothing too loud. This first time was messier than all their other times. Draco was half soft when he put his penis in. It got harder as he began thrusting. His motions were irregular and jolty. The sex was still good. Draco increased speed as he came close to coming. Hermione’s cries also increased with the speed. She found herself not needing to fake it. To her great fortune, they both came quickly and simultaneously. 

Draco panted and took a moment before he removed himself from her. Hermione didn’t move as he righted himself. Her mind was spinning as she heard Draco begin to gather his things. Hermione turned around, leaning using her elbows to lean back on the same desk. If he had fucked her from the front, this would have been the position she would have been in. 
“You are right, Master Malfoy, I should remember my place. I’m sorry.” Hermione kept a serious, almost forlorn tone, but she could have sworn she nearly saw Draco’s penis get hard again. 

When Draco left, he swung the door open. Hermione had enough time to pull her underwear up before he left to see the whole class still outside. Hermione grabbed her bag and went in the opposite direction to Draco, away from the group, who followed after him. Hermione was sure to leave nothing show on her face. 

The final part of her plan came two days later when Wayne Hopkins, a half-blood in the Hufflepuff house, asked Hermione to give him a blowjob during Charms. They were supposed to be writing down five uses for the Aqua Eructo charm when Wayne mimed across a few students that he wanted her to give her a blowjob. Of course, others saw what he was asking for. That was all she needed. 

Hermione approached the Slytherin table the next day. To her, this was the most dangerous part of her plan. It was breakfast, and the Great Hall was a cacophony just like it was every morning. Hermione approached determinately. She was allowed in the Great Hall, she just wasn’t permitted to have breakfast in the Great Hall since she could be a part of any of the houses as a mudblood. When Hermione stopped in front of Draco at the Slytherin table, she felt half the hall go quiet. Hermione’s heart pounded in her chest. She tried her very best to remain calm. Although she wasn’t sure, she was quite pulling it off. Hermione hoped her fear was coming off as annoyance. 
“Draco, I need to ask you something because I would rather not get killed over this.” Hermione held her chin up. She spoke loudly to be heard over the din but also in the hopes of being heard by other students. It did appear half the hall was already listening. Except for Draco, you took his time looking up at her from where he had been laughing with Pansy over something.
“What do you want?” Draco asks, annoyed that he has to speak to her at all. 
“I need to be sure that you don’t care who else fucks me.” Hermione remained steadfast. 
Draco leaned back, stretching lazily, “No I don’t give a shit who fucks you.”
“Good. I just needed to be sure that you didn’t care if you had to share with some half-bloods as well.”
Draco actually snarled then and there. 
“Wait, your right I don’t want some filthy half-blood fucking you before me.”
“Ok, so long as none of them rape me, I’ll keep it clean, purebloods only.”
“None of them would dare touch my stuff.” Draco snarls loud enough for the now quiet hall to hear, “But yes, after that, I don’t give a shit which pureblood wants to use you.”
‘Bullseye, ’ Hermione thought. Draco had just publicly declared that Hermione was not to be touched unless you were a pureblood or suffer the consequences. It was very important that it was Draco Malfoy who declared this because he was second to Harry Potter on the scale of authority.
“Good to know.” Hermione turned on her heel and left as quickly as possible. 

Hermione blacked out until she made it to her room, where she immediately collapsed against the wall. She pressed her heart to her chest. She didn’t know her heart could beat that fast. Once the adrenaline had subsided, Hermione’s excitement began. Her crazy, stupid plan had somehow worked perfectly. 

From that moment, Hermione’s status changed. Hermione no longer had to dodge hexes in the hallway. She spent from then until Christmas curating her roster. It was well known she was off-limits to any younger purebloods, but Hermione had a number of older years ask her for sex. She obliged when she thought they could be useful to her. Hermione made sure that not only was she a concubine to purebloods, but she was a concubine to the best purebloods, the purest of the pure. Hermione had never actually slept with anyone outside of the Sacred 28 and Krum. Even being a member of that exclusive list did not guarantee you time with Hermione, as Ron Weasley so unfortunately found out when he tried to get her to give him a hand-job in an alcove by the courtyard. Hermione let out a polite laugh at the idea. 
“What are you laughing at, mudblood. Give me a hand job.”
“I could but I don’t think it will be appreciated by any of the gentlemen who call on me that I was ordered to give a hand job to a blood traitor.”
Ron went red in the face and stormed off. 

Hermione obviously never asked for payment, but once Ernest Yaxley got her earrings, a few more decided they too wanted to give her gifts. It made most of them hard claiming her with things. Objectify her with objects. Of course, this appreciation came with Hermione learning all of their favourite things. Since each person was different, Hermione learned what each person liked. It all seemed quite simple in the end, but no other mudblood seemed to be able to model Hermione’s success. It was a near perfect symbiotic relationship until Harry and his stupid plan had to come along and ruin everything.

Hermione was feeling particularly sorry for herself as she spent that Saturday alone in her room. Then a tiny white snake slithered into Hermione’s room. Around his neck, there was a note tied with red ribbon. 
“Come up to my apartment I have something for you”
The handwriting was uneven and scratchy. It was never the handwriting one would have expected the Heir to have. It should have been ornate and fluid with all the grandeur of a trained hand. This looked like it was written by a chicken. 

Hermione put on something relatively suggestive in case she was caught by someone on her way up. It was a green cardigan with nothing on underneath and a short black pleated skirt. When Hermione came back for Seventh year, she only brought one pair of jeans and school trousers. Now, after Christmas, she still had yet to wear them. She lived in dresses and skirts, underwear and sheets. The castle was cold today, but Hermione kept her mastery of heating charms to herself. 
She would have looked out of place with the other students returning from Hogsmead that afternoon, bundled up in coats and cloaks. With the castle filling up again, Hermione took the long way around, using back corridors that were less travelled to avoid as many students as possible. She didn’t have to; no one was going to attack her, but it was better to be safe than sorry. 

Hermione had never been up to Harry’s apartment. It was the old Headmaster Albus Dumbledore’s office and quarters. Headmistress McGonagall never took it when she ascended to the position. A historical pessimist would tell you that this was done to avoid any affiliation with Dumbledore following his death during the Renewal. More than likely, it was to keep a space for the Dark Lord should he need to stay at Hogwarts. Since he has only stayed when the castle is used for political events, Harry lives there. 
 Harry had given Hermione no instructions on how to get into the apartment. She made it across to the Gargoyle corridor. Hermione could not see the door until, suddenly and unexpectedly, the large stone gargoyle moved aside. This revealed a hidden circular staircase. Hesitantly, Hermione stepped in. She almost stumbled back when the stairs began to move and bring her up to a door. Hermione never raised her hand to knock. Instead, the door opened on its own, and she stepped through, revealing a magnificent stone room. The place was ginormous. Certainly fit for the Heir. 

The part she stepped into was set up as a living room. Towards the back, there was a raised dias which had been made up as a dining area. Hermione suspected there was a kitchen here as well. 
“Hermione,” Harry called cheerfully from his spot on the couch in front of the fireplace. He sat up from lying on his back, reading a book above his head. 
Overall, the space was cosy. The living space was furnished with a number of soft looking blankets, large chairs and squishy pillows, but hardly anything matched. It was like Harry just picked up whatever he liked throughout the years and added it to the space. This was quite different from a few purebloods who got an interior designer to decorate their room every year. 

“Come sit,” Harry waved her over. 
Hermione was still too on edge with Harry to sit on the couch, so she chose the two-seater sofa closest to the door. 
“I got you something,” Harry called, getting up the moment Hermione sat down and disappearing into the back rooms. Immediately, Harry returned carrying a large cat wearing a sparkly collar. 
Harry came over and held out the cat towards her face first. 
“What do you think?”
“Oh,” Hermione tried her absolute best to school her expression. One of the cardinal rules is to always be excited when presented with a gift. This was just such an odd way of presenting it, Hermione thought. “It’s gorgeous,” Hermione finally said emphatically, beginning to undo the collar on the cat. 
Harry watched as Hermione removed the collar off the cat and put it onto herself. 
“Really, Harry, thank you,” Hermione said genuinely. 
Absolutely stunned by Hermione’s misunderstanding, Harry keeled over laughing. Harry dropped the cat in his fit of laughter. He couldn’t stop himself. He began to cry with it. Harry's laugh was full and bright. 
“What?” Hermione asked innocently after a moment.
“I didn’t,” Harry wiped his eyes, “I didn’t – I didn’t get you the collar.” Harry chuckled, “I got you the cat.”
Hermione's face turned a bright red. She buried her face in her hands. “Oh my god!”
Harry was still laughing, and Hermione couldn't help but laugh along with him. 
When they finally regained themselves, Harry let out a long sigh. He was sitting on the floor, his back up against the couch perpendicular to Hermione. 
“His name is Crookshanks and he’s part Kneazel.”
Hermione took off the collar, “In my defence, I did one receive a diamond ring on the foot of a robin so I have received jewellery in some fairly odd ways.”
“I know but I just can’t believe you thought I was giving you an animal collar.” 
“It’s not the first time I’ve worn a collar Harry.” Hermione replied dryly. 
“I don’t want to know.”
“Good because I’m not going to tell you. I keep my clientele to myself, it’s their business if they want to tell people. And none of them have ever gotten me a live animal.”
“I thought you’d like him,” Crookshanks purring and looking for rubs, “its lonely up at the top.”
Hermione couldn’t disagree. She didn’t want to ask if him and Draco were back speaking to each other yet. She felt that was too personal. 

“And anyway, that is not the only reason I called you up here,” Harry said, jumping up and changing the mood. “I think it’s finally time we get to the substantive part of this plan. Now I have been gathering somethings for a while – “
“I thought you said it was too unsafe to talk openly in Hogwarts about this.” Hermione interrupted in case Harry was getting carried away with himself and forgetting that the walls have ears. 
“Here is fine. It’s basically Azkanban. Plus, there are no portraits anywhere in this tower so we are safe. That is a big plus with your plan about pretending to sleep together you can now access here without causing suspicion.”
Hermione looked around and realised Harry was right. There were no portraits, no photos, there was nothing personal in the room. 
“Anyways this is where you come in Hermione. You see I’m having a bit of a hard time finding Rowena Ravenclaw’s diadem. So if you could focus on that and I’ll focus one getting a few other things I think that will be a great place to start. Ok?”
“Ok.” Hermione nodded, delighted to finally be finding out some part of this wild plan. 
“Ok go team.” Harry finished holding out his hand flat. 
Hermione stood up and smiled, placing her palm on top of Harry’s hand. 
“Go team!” she responded, lifting her hand. 
Hermione scooped up Crookshanks and went back to her room. 

Chapter Text

Hermione was absolutely in love with Crookshanks. Hermione knew she had never loved any man more than she had loved Crookshanks. Mudbloods never had animals because they couldn’t use them in class anyways. It's just an additional, needless expense. Beyond that, an animal was unpredictable. One could be guaranteed that if your cat ate some pureblood’s rat, you would be transfigured into a rat yourself and kept as their pet to make up for the loss.   

Hermione had set up a small bed for Crookshanks in the corner using the jeans she never wore. But Crookshanks felt quite content to lay out on Hermione’s bed, and Hermione couldn’t refuse him. She got him treats from the kitchen. Feeding him on scraps of chicken and fish. The house elves didn’t mind; they always liked Hermione. Hermione was quite content to let Crookshanks out and about. He was part Kneazle, so he knew better than to kill someone else’s pet. 

Hermione idly stroked Crookshanks as she read up on Rowen Ravenclaw's lost diadem. It was such an odd item to request Hermione to find. There was almost nothing written on it in Hogwarts: A History. Only a throwaway line about how it was the only relic of Rowen Ravenclaw. Hermione had squirrelled away another book on the founders of Hogwarts, but it proved to be equally as unenlightening since it focused much more on Salazar Slytherin than any other founder. The lack of information was frustrating.

This led Hermione to her favourite nighttime activity – breaking into the Hogwarts library. Hermione had always felt most at home in a library. When she discovered she wasn’t allowed into the library, well, she refused to let that stop her. Hermione first broke into the library when she was in her first year during the Halloween Feast. It wasn’t a particularly difficult room to sneak into. Madame Pinch never locked the doors. She remembered being so scared someone would catch her. Hermione was so careful that she came up with a list of rules to follow.
1) Never open the door to the library with your hand in case you leave finger-prints
2) Always wear soft shoes for sneaking
3) Get in, grab as many books as possible
4) Mark them as on loan under people who have multiple books taken out (and never someone with late notices)
5) Do not carry the books out; put them in your school bag
If anyone caught her, she would just say that she was grabbing an essay for some pureblood who forgot theirs in the library. She had never been caught, and she had been doing this for years. Even if she got caught now, it would have been worth it for how often she broke in. 

Hermione waited until 1am to complete her smash-and-grab. Hermione gathered as many books as she could on Rowena Ravenclaw. It didn’t take long for Hermione to find something useful. She learned about how Rowena’s daughter stole the diadem and ran away to the Albanian forest, where she hid the diadem before being killed by the Bloody Baron. It was also mentioned that Helena Ravenclaw was the ghost of Ravenclaw, the Grey Lady. 

Hermione daydreamed in class the next day about how to talk to Helena Ravenclaw when she was rudely disturbed from her plotting by a truly disturbing sight.
Draco Malfoy walking into Dark Arts holding hands with Pansy Parkinson. The two sat done at the two-seater desk together, still holding hands. Hermione swore that a small bit of vomit came up when Pansy leaned in and gave Draco a small peck on the lips. 
‘What the fuck?’ Hermione thought. 
Technically, what they were was fine. To anyone who didn’t know them, one would think that it was completely normal. They both come from respectable pureblood households. They grew up together. But to Hermione, and to probably all of their friends, this was the biggest U-turn in history. Up until last week, the pair couldn’t stand each other. Draco thought Pansy was too loud. And Pansy thought that Draco was a self-important twat. How many hours had Pansy and Hermione spent on her sofa talking about what a knobhead Draco was? Equally, how many times had Draco told her that Pansy was the single most annoying person on the planet. Of course, Hermione kept her opinions to herself, those being that Pansy can be annoying, but she wouldn’t have her any other way and that Draco was a twat. 

Hermione couldn’t stop watching them for the entire lesson. Honestly, how could anyone focus when in the front row, there was the most awkward attempt at intimacy playing out? Pansy unnaturally leaned into Draco’s side. Draco delicately rubbed Pansy’s lower back, not in a sweet way. It was so awful, it made Hermione’s stomach turn. Hermione couldn’t take her eyes off it. 
“...And since Miss Granger is clearly listening so intently why don’t you come up here so you can act as a demonstration for the rest of the class.” Umbridge called. 
Whatever nausea Hermione had been suffering was quickly replaced by dread-filled butterflies.  

Hesitantly, Hermione got up from her chair and walked to the front of the classroom. Hermione did everything she could to stop herself from shaking. Something like this hadn’t happened in years. When Hermione made it to the front of the class, she saw Harry staring blankly. She couldn’t tell if he was daydreaming or what was happening, but he should have been putting a stop to this. Hermione mentally screamed at Harry to wake the fuck up.
“Now class as you know there is a practical side to your N.E.W.T. exam. Of course you will be judged on knowledge of the course …” Umbridge’s voice faded into the background. 
Hermione could see the rest of the class. At least a few of them were looking at Harry, who continued to sit there emotionless. 

Of course, it was Umbridge who was so out of the loop over what was happening within the student body who was doing this. She tried this every once in a while since Hermione became off-limits as a test subject. And every time one of Hermione’s many men would tell her that she couldn’t because they needed Hermione for later. She didn’t have that now; she just had Harry. Who wasn’t doing shit. 
“… now those looking to be awarded the highest marks will be expected to use some creativity. Spells you have invented yourself would be the best way in which to maximise your marks…”
Hermione glanced down at Draco, who seemed laser focused on Hermione. 
“… so I am going to demonstrate a spell invented by Professor Snape, which he invented in his sixth year…”
Hermione would not close her eyes. She just stood there like a statue.
“… Sectumsempra.”

Hermione let out a slow breath as Umbridge prepared to fire. Hermione relaxed and let her mind wander.
“If her uncle was a Duke she could have been betrothed to Prince Harry. They would have grown up together, of course. She would have been the co-captain with him of the polo team they played for…”
Umbridge cleared her throat like she always did before a demonstration. Hermione was aware that Umbridge raised her wand, but that didn’t matter because she was playing polo in Wimbledon. The skies were blue there. They had champagne after every game. 

"Sectum-"

“Stop.”

“I’m sorry, mister Malfoy, what was that?” Umbridge asked, lowering her wand. 
“I have it now, good authority that, my lord requires the mudbloods’ back to be intact for later.” Draco drawled, bored at the effort of having to explain himself. 
“My Lord?” Umbridge asks.
Finally, Harry arouses from his thoughts. He clears his throat, “um yes, yeah I do.”

Hermione doesn’t wait to be dismissed and immediately takes it as her cue to leave and go sit back down. 

Class ends shortly after. Hermione does something she definitely does not have the authority to do and grabs Harry outside the hallway after class and drags him to the nearest girls’ bathroom. The moment Hermione makes sure they are alone, Hermione rounds on Harry, not giving a shit who he is. 
“What the fuck!?” she yells. 
“What?” Harry asks, genuinely confused.
“What do mean what? With Umbridge back there. How in bloody hell were you going to let her use me as a demonstration up there? If it wasn’t for Draco back there I would have been spliced six ways to Sunday.”
“She always calls you up for a demonstration.”
“Yes, and which ever man I am sleeping with that day usually puts a stop to it.” Hermione hisses. 
“Ohh.” Realisation suddenly dawning on Harry’s face. Then “Oh” as more realisation comes along. “Hermione I am so sorry. I honestly didn’t think. I just… I am so sorry.”
“You should be.” Hermione folded her arms. “The only reason I'm helping you is so you don't get me killed. But I still expect something in return.”“I’m really sorry. I just didn’t think because you know, we’re not sleeping together.”
“Would you like that to change?”
“What?”
“Would that make it easier for you?”
“No absolutely not. Please don’t do that.”
“Do what? Try and protect myself.”
“I-“
“Look, Harry, I’m done.”
“What? You can’t –“
“I don’t even know why you brought me along. There were plenty of other more inconspicuous mudbloods you could have gotten as your fall guy. I don’t know why you picked me because I was doing fine before.”
Harry ran his hands through his hair and caught it up in fists. He was stressed at the prospect of losing Hermione. But Hermione had made her mind up. She didn’t understand what they were doing or what it was all for, and she was getting nothing out of it.
“I need you Hermione.” Harry whispered.
“Why?”
“Because I can’t figure it out on my own.”
“Can’t figure what out?”
“How to kill him.”
“There are lots of ways to kill a man Harry. Hit him with your car, drop a house on him, never love him eoungh.”
“No you dodn’t understand –“
“You’re right Harry I don’t understand and that’s why I’m done.”
Hermione was about to leave - “He’s tied his sole to objects to keep him alive.” Hermione paused. “That’s why he can’t be killed. I’ve found a few of them. I think the diadem is one. But I can’t even figure out how to destroy them. I need you Hermione.”
Hermione turned around slowly, “Why me?”
Harry gave out a soft laugh, as if the answer to that question was obvious. Hermione waited for an answer. 
“Because you’re bloody genius. Everyone knows it. And you are quite frightening. Frieghtening enough that no one is going to stop you for doing whatever it is you’re doing.”
“That’s a high compliment to pay to a mudblood.”
“It’s an accurate compliment to pay to a woman who has managed to half of the pureblood population into her little pawns.”
“I just do what I’m told.”
“Hermione I don’t think you have ever done what you are told.”
Harry steps close towards her. leans down and puts both hands on Hermione’s shoulders. Harry leans down and puts both hands on Hermione’s shoulders. “You’re right. I should have done something, and I am so sorry.” Harry said with not only sincerity but with genuine remorse. 
Harry then hugged Hermione, full, warm, and safe, like his laugh. Hermione shouldn’t have crumbled as easily as she did. But it all came in a flood of emotion. Hermione hugged him back tightly, and she cried. Hermione hadn’t been hugged in a long, long time. It was too much. The tears were full, ugly, wet sobs that required Hermione to switch shoulders after a little while because the other one was so wet. They sat on the floor, refusing to let go. They missed all of the next class as Hermione let all of her emotions come out, and Harry just held her. 

Chapter Text

“For the last time, I do not seek wisdom from your mother’s diadem.”

“That is what they all tell me.” The Grey Lady floated away again. Hermione followed after her. It was well after midnight, and Hermione was having the most frustrating conversation she could ever have with a ghost. She didn’t understand how that Bloody Baron loved this lady, but she could see why he stabbed her.

“I have enough wisdom of my own.” She didn’t add that, according to Harry Potter, everyone thought she was a genius.

“Then you are a fool if you do not covet more.” The Grey Lady continued to move away from her.

“I seek the diadem to destroy it.” She stated again. Finding the Grey Lady had been easy. Hermione knew that she would not tell her where the diadem was so easily. Hermione had not anticipated that speaking to the Grey Lady would be this difficult. She kept moving away from Hermione. And they had been spinning in the same conversation for the last half an hour.

“And I will tell you once again that it has been lost to time.”

“I don’t believe you. I believe a man many years ago found it.”

“No man could have found it on his own.” They had been here before, but the last few times, the Grey Lady hadn’t added on the “on his own” part.

“Then someone must have helped him, and the only person who could have done that it is you.” Helena stopped.

“I will not grant you the wisdom you seek.” she said quietly.

“I. do. not. seek. wisdom.” Hermione was getting fed up.

“Then what use do you have for the diadem then?”

“I have told you, I wish to destroy it. That man whom you helped did something very wrong to the diadem, didn’t he?” Hermione ventured, regaining control of her emotions.

“He ruined it,” she whispered, fainter than a breath. If it wasn’t the dead of night in an empty corridor, then Hermione would have never heard her.

“He did. And now you have to tell me where he put it so that I can undo what he did.”

“Why should I trust you? That man whom you speak of offered to destroy it many years ago.”
Hermione took a moment to think. How do you measure trust?

“You can’t. Trust is immeasurable. But I can prove to you that I do not seek the relic for its wisdom. Give me the answer in a riddle and I will find it and destroy it.”

The Grey Lady cast Hermione a suspicious look. She wasn’t sure if she was going to take the bait.

“You want it destroyed as much as I do.” Hermione pushed further.

“My mother would have liked you, clever girl. The diadem is here in the castle where lost things are hidden.”

“Thank you,” Hermione said graciously.

Hermione didn’t get to bed until 4am that night. She was exhausted and overjoyed when she finally got to collapse into her bed that night.

05:45am – Hermione is unceremoniously awoken by being slapped repeatedly across the face by a letter. “Come to the Great Hall”, it read in Harry’s signature chicken scratch.

Hermione was still half asleep when she threw on a jumper, wrapped herself up in a blanket and shuffled up to the Great Hall.

‘Harry better be waving around the head of his dead father when she gets up there, or I swear to god,” Hermione thought.

Hermione was not a morning person. It was partly why she never stayed the night. Usually, Hermione didn’t start functioning until she had breakfast. It was one of the benefits of having breakfast in the kitchens; she didn’t have to speak to anyone.

When Hermione made it to the Great Hall, Hermione was disappointingly not greeted with the decapitated head of the Dark Lord. Instead, what greeted her was the entire Slytherin Quidditch team. Hermione faltered in her step slightly. This was not who she expected to see, like at all. Hermione knew she looked a state. She probably looked the worst any of them had ever seen her, but then Hermione decided that they had called her out of her nirvana, so she really couldn’t find the strength to care. Hermione shuffled over, keeping her eyes as closed as possible and her blanket tucked tightly around her shoulders.

“Morning Hermione,” Blaise greeted her altogether too cheerfully. Hermione groaned a response.

“Would you like some breakfast?” Harry asked. That question proved too difficult for Hermione to answer at this time in the morning. So, she just plonked herself across from Harry, indicating her answer. Hermione had never sat at the Slytherin table. No mudblood had. She had been on her knees under the Slytherin table but had never actually sat at the table. If anyone saw it would be considered a major taboo, but Harry had invited her, so she sat.

Blaise sat to her right. Draco sat diagnol to her. Astoria Greengrass sat next to Blaise. Harper sat down from her. Vaisey and Urquhart sat down from Draco.

“He wasn’t inviting you to sit mudblood.” Astoria spat venomously.

Hermione kept her eyes closed. ‘Was the Great Hall always this bright?’ her brain idly wondered.

“Let her be Ast,” Blaise beguiled.

Hermione lifted her eyelids ever so slightly to find a sausage and pour some coffee.

Once she had those, Blaise said, “So, Hermione, we have realised that we have a slight problem in regards to the game this Saturday.”

Hermione didn’t care. She just wanted her sausage.

“What problem I hear you ask. Well its simple really, as you are aware the average Qudditch player tends to be very superstitious. You know we have certain things we do that we believe bring us good luck before a game.”

‘This is a really good sausage,’ Hermione thought.

“And so we’ve been discussing and well we feel it best not to disrupt those rituals before our game against Ravenclaw, you get me.”

This was all far too vague for this time of the morning, and Hermione certainly did not understand.

“Is she even listening?” Astoria asked meanly.

“You’re liking that sausage there, mudblood,” Vaisey snided.

“Wa rituals,” Hermione pushed out.

“You know with me and Draco and the underwear,” Blaise said lowly towards Hermione’s ear.

Ahh, they wanted sex. Sex that she had given them before every game in the last two years. It had become sort of a ritual, Hermione supposed. Because Hermione didn’t lend herself to younger men, it was only Draco and Blaise this applied to.

“Why ‘ I ‘ere?” Hermione mumbled

Blaise smiled and rubbed the bottom of Hermione’s back in a friendly way. Draco hadn’t said a word.

“I wanted to see if you were ok with it first, I didn’t want to catch you off guard,” Harry answered. So they had asked Harry’s permission, and Harry was clearly overcorrecting from the mishap earlier in the week. Hermione was Harry’s, and they wanted their toy back.

“Ya we’re just going to borrow her for a few days,” Blaise told Harry, “don’t worry Harry we’ll bring her back without a scratch. Maybe a few bite marks but otherwise not a scratch.”

“I’m fine with you doing whatever you need to do once Hermione’s ok with it.”

Yeah, it was fine. Honestly, she was surprised to be asked. Hermione was starting to wake up, slowly.

“Why can’t Daphne do it?”

“Because she is not a whore like you.” Astoria snarled, disgusted.

“Yeah, and come on ‘Mione, Daphne’s a pureblood so I can’t do any of that stuff with her.”

If it wasn’t the crack of dawn, Hermione could have come up with the answer on her own. Pureblood girls were not allowed to have sex before marriage. With the pressure of producing good pureblood heir,s they couldn’t afford to be promiscuous.

“Ok,” Hermione finally felt caught up, “do you want to go now?” Hermione's brain was still rebooting, so she would need much clearer instructions if they wanted to go right now.

“No,” Blaise breathed out a laugh, “as eager as that is we don’t need you now.”

Hermione closed her eyes as she smothered the anger of being woken up at 5 in the bloody morning.

“We just didn’t think we’d get another chance to chat with the whole team since this is our last training before the game and I knew you would not want to go out into the Qudditch pitch after our practice later this morning.” Harry supplied reading her thoughts like a book.

Harry was right. She would have hated him much more if he had asked her to come out and meet with them, for this is lashing rain outside. It looked to be a particularly wet and cold Scottish morning. He couldn’t have paid her enough to go out there.

“Oh and you and me can’t be together until the game,” Harry added.

Hermione did well not to laugh.

“Yes we need Harry laser focused on the game this week, ok?”

“Understood I can sex with everybody this week except Harry.”

“And any Ravenclaws.” Urquhart supplied.

“Fuck. Lune Lovegood it hot.” The others did not laugh, but she knew Harry was laughing on the inside.

Hermione was about to get up to go, leaving her coffee. She hoped that she could still catch some more sleep if she went now.

“I won’t be needing you,” Draco piped up.

Hermione’s eyes shot open.

“What?” everyone asked in unison.

“Is Pansy really giving it to you?” Astoria asked quickly.

“No.” Draco batted down immediately. Good, because something like that could ruin Pansy. “I just don’t her.”

Draco was a fucking liar. Hermione knew that, but the rejection still felt hard.

“Draco you are not losing us this bloody match jest because you can’t get your shit in order.” Blaise gritted out.

“There are a few other mudbloods I can use,” Draco shrugged. He wasn’t quite pulling off being nonchalant.

“That’s fine Draco,” Hermione stepped in, hoping to put an end to this. Hermione has not and never will beg a pureblood to have sex with her. “I don’t need you.”

It was only when Hermione made it back up to her precious bed did she realised that the jumper she decided to throw on was Draco’s. It was greyish purple. It was perfectly oversized and felt like butter. He gave it to her when she was leaving his room in the morning, where he had torn the buttons off her blouse the night before. She should have given it back, except it smelled fantastic, and he had given her better things, so he surely wouldn’t mind a jumper. 

Hermione woke up again two hours later, much more amiable to the world. Looking at it now, Blaise had given Hermione very short notice to get her affairs in order. Usually, she had a bit of time to source what she needed before a match. Before every match, Blaise liked to fuck her in the uniform of his ‘enemy’. Although Hermione had most of the Quidditch gear, she needed to find a way to get a Ravenclaw jersey. Cue Anthony Goldstein.

Anthony was a half-blood, but Hermione wouldn’t have been able to point out where the blood had been dirtied along his family tree. He was in Ravenclaw and relatively bright, but a bit self-important.

“Anthony can I talk to you,” Hermione asked while they waited outside for Professor Sprout to unlock the greenhouse.

Anthony looked unsure but ultimately obliged.

“What can I do for you,” Anthony asked automatically, leaning on one of the window sills.

“Oh well it’s a bit of an odd request,” Hermione bit the tip of her thumb, “I was wondering if I could borrow your Ravenclaw jersey for Sunday.”

“Why,” his eyebrows furrowed together.

“Harry said that he wanted me cheering on the other team on Saturday, and I’d rather not say any more than that,” she purposefully used his first name to indicate intimacy and kept it as vague as possible. The reason didn’t really matter, only that Harry said. Throwing Harry’s name out was much easier than when she had to come up with an actual excuse because he would have never given it to her if she said Blaise wanted it.

Yeah, sure, I can drop it over to you tomorrow after lunch.

“Perfect thanks,”

On Friday, Hermione got all dressed up to go see Blaise. It used to be when there were many older members on the Slytherin Quidditch team That the night before a match would be Hermione’s busiest night. Before they left the Slytherin Beaters, Peregrine Derrick and Lucian Bole would have a threesome with Hermione the night before every game to become more in sync. Now, Hermione was a little happy to be going up to Blaise. Since she ‘got with’ Harry and stopped having sex, she felt like her sex drive had gone crazy. Recently, if it had legs Hermione wanted to ride, she nearly caught herself staring at a table the other day.

It took Hermione fifteen minutes to put on all of the Quidditch gear. She threw a cloak over her outfit and went to Blaise’s room. She knocked solidly three times.

“Come in.”

Blaise was waiting for her by the windowsill in his full Slytherin uniform. Hermione did love a man in uniform. Hermione took off her cloak to reveal herself dressed head to toe in a snug blue and cream Ravenclaw Quidditch uniform that was all leather and straps. She had done her hair into a high ponytail plat as if she was going out to play. She has sourced knee-high brown leather flying boots, which perfectly matched her brown leather arm guards. Of course, Blaise had seen most of this get-up already this year when Slytherin played Gryffindor and won, and when Slytherin played Hufflepuff and won.

“Who are you?”

“My name is Alexis Owens,” Hermione responded, taking determined strides towards Blaise, “I’m the Ravenclaw central chaser and tomorrow I’m going to score 250 points against you.” Hermione got in real close to Blaise’s face and stared him down before abruptly changing course to the liquor cabinet Balise kept fully stocked in the corner.

“There is no need for you to introduce yourself, Blaise Zabini. I already know who you are you’re the man who is going to be begging me for mercy tomorrow.” Hermione poured herself and Blaise a drink, a martini with chilled vodka.  

“You seemed confused about who will be seeking mercy and when Alexis,” Blaise comes over, taking the glass that Hermione has offered.

“Oh? How so?”

“You are in my suite, drinking my drink, alone with me so do we think now is a good time to get on your knees and see how merciful I can be.”

Hermione carefully set her glass aside and took Blaise’s glass and set it next to her own. Suddenly, she pushed Blaise back onto the couch violently. Hermione gets on top and straddles Blaise. She leans in and whispers hot inside his ear.

“This is the position you will find yourself tomorrow with Ravenclaw on top and Slytherin underneath.”

Hermione kissed Blaise forcefully. Blaise kissed her back and cupped his hand to her ass while Hermione began to move her hips. She could feel him get harder underneath the culottes. Hermione squeezed her hand in between their two bodies and one-handedly undid his trousers. She continued to kiss him while she masturbated him.

“Get on the bed.” Blaise ordered.

Hermione got up, but then Blaise cupped her ass again and lifted her to the bed. They continued kissing until Blaise dropped her onto the bed. Blaise began quickly undoing Hermione’s outfit.

“Tell me who’s win tomorrow.”

“You.”

“Who’s the better team?”

“Slytherin.”

“Say it all to me.”

“Slytherin the better team than Ravenclaw.”

“Who is the better house?”

“Slytherin is the better house.”

Blaise was done. He had taken off his own trousers and left on Hermione and his jersey. Blaise kneeled over her.

“And what do you want me to do right now, Alexis Owens?”

“I want you fuck me”

“Why”

“Because I snobby, boring Ravenclaw girl who wants you to ruin me.”

Blaise came down on top of her and kissed her before whispering, “I’m going to make you take me, full, long and hard because that’s all you deserve.”

“Make me scream.”

Blaise pushed into her. Hermione gasped as her pushed. And then he began to thrust in and out and in.

Hermione moaned and took it. Blaise pressed all the way inside her.

“You fucking awful Ravenclaw,” Blaise gritted out before he picked up the tempo.

“I will wreck you.” Hermoine began to see stars.

“I will fucking annihilate you tomorrow.” Blaise shouted before he came, and then Hermione. Hermione shook with overwhelming pleasure.

A minute later, Blaise flopped down in the bed next to Hermione, satisfied. Their breaths were still shallow as they lay in silence, waiting to calm down. Eventually, they were themselves again and righted themselves to lie next to each other on the bed.

“Hermione can I ask you a question.”

“Sure.”

“I know you don’t like to talk about other men but what is up with you and Harry?”

Hermione didn’t know how to answer it. She wasn’t going to, but then she found herself saying.

“I don’t know. I think he’s just a bit lonely.”

“Because I can’t believe that he didn’t step in when Umbridge tried to cast to Sectumspra. I would have myself but I just didn’t know what he was doing.”

“No,” Hermione pushed her half-undone plat out of the way, "I understand. Well, hey, you won’t have to worry about that with Daphne now, tell me all about that.”

Hermione wasn’t sure if Blaise even noticed her changing the subject because Blaise absolutely lit up when he was talking about Daphne. He really did love her.

Hermione snuck out 20 minutes later, leaving Blaise to get a good night’s sleep before the game. When she was coming down the stairs, she met Draco.

Draco seemed surprised to see Hermione in a half and hastily done up Quidditch uniform.

“Hermione.” Draco nodded.

“Draco.”

Hermione moved to walk past. She made it two steps below him until he turned down towards her.

“I’ve changed my mind I actually wouldn’t mind seeing you now.” he said casually.

“No. I don’t want to.” Hermione said and walked off.

Chapter Text

Ch 6
The day was clear and crisp, and open. The air was cold, but the sun was shining brightly in a vibrant blue sky. Visibility would not be an issue today for the Quidditch game. It was perfect flying conditions. 

Hermione was lost in thought as she flipped over the Grey Lady’s riddle in her mind on the way down to the game. “It is where lost things are hidden,” The only thing she had given Hermione a solid lead on was that it was in the castle. She hadn’t had a chance to talk to Harry about it yet. It was frustrating her to no end. It felt like the answer was right in front of her if she just knew where to look. 

As she was walking down the steps to the match past the centaur stables, Hermione suddenly found herself on the ground by the path. Someone had pushed her to the ground. When she saw Ginny Weasley laughing, walking past with a group of Gryffindor girls, she knew it was her. She got confirmation when Ginny yelled back, "Watch where you're walking, wouldn't want you to fall on another dick." The girls around her burst into fits of laughter. 

Hermione was about to get up when Ron Weasley stuck out his hand to help her. She was surprised by the gesture but took it nevertheless. "Don't mind her, Hermione she just has a bit of a thing for Harry, I think."
She appreciated it. Hermione noticed for the first time that Ron had actually done a lot of growing up in the past year, and she wasn't referring to the extra inch he seemed to have grown. Neville had always liked him, and Hermione had never understood why. But she could see it now, when he wasn’t being a bollocks, Ron was nice.
“It’s ok I’m just surprised that she is the first one.”
In the moment Hermione took to dust herself off, she saw the centaur stables just over Ron’s shoulder. Centaurs are supposed to be sagacious creatures; perhaps she could ask them what the Grey Lady’s riddle means. 
“Do you want me to walk you down?” Ron offered. 
“Thank you but no thank you I think I might go back of the castle for a bit to get the rest of this dirt off me.”

Once Ron had turned around to go start walking back down the hill, Hermione doubled back and slipped into the stables. The centaurs were old wise creatures that were kept on the school grounds for Care of Magical Creatures. Hermione had taken the class in third year but quickly decided she would not be doing it for her N.E.W.T.S. When Vincent Crabbe picked up a pixie and tore her limb from limb, Hermione was done. She nearly threw up then and there. 

Hermione felt more vulnerable in that class than in any other. It was like all the horrible, torturous things the purebloods wanted to do were educated to them in the best manner. Like when they did a section on House Elves and Professor Davis explained that beating a house elf was entirely appropriate for proper care and management. That they like to be beaten since it shows them what they did wrong. And you should encourage them to beat themselves at times. 

The worst was a short chapter on Mudbloods. Hermione wanted to crawl into her skin and die during that lesson. They were taught that mudbloods were a mistake in nature. They were an abomination. They did not have magic like purebloods had magic; it was foul, and they should be discouraged from doing magic. Although they were allowed into Hogwarts, it was only to give them purpose in wizarding to society and to prevent unwanted outbursts of magic if they were to remain in the Muggle world. Mudblooods were not witches or wizards; they were Muggles who had the ability to do magic. 

Hermione hadn’t been into the centaur stables since fifth year, when she had to muck them out as part of detention for not being available to Marcus Flint because she was with Adrian Pucey at the time. The centaurs weren’t there the last time she was in. It smelled awful. It was dark and hot. 
“Lumos,” Hermione cast, forming a small ball of light in her palm. 
“Lower your wand child.” she heard someone say off in the distance, but her eyes had not yet adjusted, so she couldn’t see who. 

Hermione walked by the individual stalls. When she looked in, they all seemed to have their back turned to her. When she made it to the large group stall at the end, she was greeted by 30 pairs of eyes looking back at her. They were practically on top of one another. 

Hermione walked slowly back up the line and stopped at one of the stalls about halfway up. 
“Excuse me,” she said quietly, politely. The centaur would not turn around. She couldn’t blame him. He probably hated her if he thought that she was a part of the reason she was locked up in here. She had read once that the centaurs were noble creatures who, not so long ago, lived freely in the Dark Lords' Forest. 
“I was wondering if you could help me with something. Do you see I was given a riddle by the Grey Lady to find a place in castle ‘Where lost things are hidden.’ I was wondering if you might know where that was.”
The centaur unexpectedly turned around and stomped over quickly, sticking his head through the stall door. Hermione got such a fright she fell back. The centaur just stood there, arms crossed, staring at her. He was so big. 
“Apologise,” Hermione got up and dusted herself off, “You just gave me a freight.” 
Hermione thought about leaving, but something in her stopped her. 
“If you tell me the answer I will set all the stables free.” I was a foolish deal to make.
The centaur regarded her. He seemed to evaluate her person.  
“The Room of Hidden Things on the seventh floor walk past three times wishing what you seek.”
Hermione absorbed it all as quickly as she could. She got the feeling that the centaur was not going to repeat himself. 

The clever thing to do would have been to leave to see if the information had been correct and not a lie. However, that felt like a trick in the deal. It was not the right thing to do. Hermione undid all the single stalls in the front first. She worked as quickly as she could. The centaurs waited until she had all the doors undone. If some left now, it may not have felt enough time for the other to get out before being caught. When Hermione undid the last door, she was violently knocked aside by the stampede. If only for being able to fit in between the space where the door hits the wall, she would have been trampled. 

When they had all left, Hermione got up and moved quickly towards the entrance. She peered out and saw no one. She moved swiftly as she went around the back and rejoined the path down to the Quidditch pitch. She fixed herself, hoping to remove any unwitting evidence that may have been on her and walked down to the game as any other student. She wasn’t wearing any house colours; she never did. Hermiione feared it might attract attention to route for a house one was not a part of.

Hermione found a spot along the boundary fence. Mudbloods weren’t permitted to watch from the stands. Hermione didn’t have to go to the Quidditch match; she wasn’t a part of any house, but it was something to fill her day. If someone asked her, she would have said that she would like to see Slytherin win not only for Blaise, Harry and Draco but because it would put Slytherin in the final with Gryffindor, and that would be a much better match. 

The game wasn’t the most exciting. Slytherin took a decisive lead from the start. The only thing of note from the game was that it was Draco’s worst. Hermione had never seen him play so badly. He let chasers get past, missed point opportunities and sustained a pretty nasty hit to the stomach from a rogue Bludger. It was not easy to watch. Fortunately, Harry caught the Snitch after 45 minutes, so it was a relatively short match. 

When the game finished, the players dismounted and the stands filed out. Hermione was walking past the changing rooms when she heard her name being called. Hermione turned around to see Harry waving her over, still kitted out, standing next to – oh shit – his father. He must have come to see Harry play.
Hermione came over. Despite the cold day, she could feel her hands getting clammy. She didn’t have time to panic. When Hermione came over, she bowed her head and kept her eyes to the floor. 
“Father, I would like to introduce you to Hermione, the only mudblood in my year.” Harry supplied cheerfully, almost excitedly. Hermione could not believe he was putting her in this situation. 
“It is an honour my lord.” Hermione blessed her brain for not stalling. 
“Please let me see you.” The Dark Lord instructed. 
Hermione raised her head but continued to try and not look him in the eye. She could see him, though even if she didn't look at him. He looked so like the picture and statues Hermione had seen of him. He was very handsome, tall, with soft, black, cropped, wavy hair.
“You are very beautiful.”
‘Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.’ (excitedly)
“Thank you, your grace.”
“The only muggle-born witch in the year and it has come to my attention that you have made a number of associations with several of your pure blooded classmates,” The Dark Lord enquired earnestly.
‘Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.’ (terrifyingly) 
“I live to please,” Hermione's voice came out delicately. 
“Hmh, no doubt you get something out of it yourself. I believe my son has given you a cat.”
“He did. It was very generous and most kind of him. A pet for his pet.”
The Dark Lord laughed in a practised chuckle. It was just a different laugh from Harry’s. It was so much colder. 
“A woman who knows her place, very attractive.” He turned to Harry, “I can certainly understand the appeal son but explain to me why just her.”
“I don’t want any pureblood girls thinking they have any power by just being with me, At least when it’s just this mudblood they know that she exists to serve me – at my pleasure.” Harry spoke in a practised, clear, diplomatic tone so like his father. It was very different to how he usually was. 
“And you don’t think this will give her ideas above her station?”
Harry looked down at her, flicked his eyes up and down in one quick sweeping evaluation. 
“No.” Harry said in such a definite tone that it made her want to obey.
Hermione felt like a dog. She was an animal Harry was asking to keep. 
“Very well,” Volodmaort said with a smile, “she does appear to be well trained.”
Harry got distracted form a commotion that was coming from the locker room. 
“It looks like I have to go as well.”
Hermione was dismissed. 

That night, when Hermione came up to Harry’s room, she was dressed in her pyjamas with Draco’s jumper on over. They sat in front of the fire and shared a tube of vanilla ice cream between each other in front of the fire eating straight out of the tub with their own spoon.
“Why aren’t you downstairs partying in Blaise’s room with the rest of them?”
Harry shook his head, “I never really like to go to those things. I think I put people on edge. Like people really relax and have a good time if I’m around and now that me and Draco aren’t speaking I wouldn’t really have any one to talk to.”
“Oh?” Hermione was curious about Harry and Draco, but she didn’t want to pry too much and have him shut up. 
“Yeah, Quidditch practice has been a nightmare and then everything blew up today in the locker room while I was outside talking to you. Sorry again about my father he had made enquiries into how I was progressing. I don’t know who in their right mind would have told him about you. And then when he brought it up I had to introduce you,” Harry rambled. He had already apologised about the whole thing when she stepped into the apartment. 
“It’s ok, really.” Hermione wanted to hear more about what had happened with Draco.
“Well, yeah, but only because you were amazing. When he brought up about your ‘associations’, bloody hell, I wanted to die of shame.”
“You really think I did well?”
“Yeah and that line about ‘I live to please’. God Hermione in any other universe you would be ruling the world.”
“He wasn’t that bad. He just seemed sort of protective.”
“Oh yeah he’s protective.”
“That’s nice though.”
Harry bobbed his head to the left and right, ‘either or,’ he was saying.
“Now that I’ve met him can you please explain to me why you want to kill him.”
“He kills people Hermione.”
“But only enemies,”
“Sorry are you seriously trying to defend a brutalistic dictator right now.” Harry squeezed one eye shut in thought.  
“No but like he is your father. I don’t know wasn’t Grindlewald in prison for a long time,”
“Firstly, I was raised by Impirioed muggles. Voldemort is not an affectionate father and more so like his trophy than his son. And secondly, putting someone in prison is way harder than killing them even when they several objects dotted around the place keeping them alive and especially when its Voldemort.”
“Yes, even if we kill him what will that change?”
“It will change everything.” Harry threw his hand up in the air and fell onto his back. “If we kill Voldemort then the whole game changes. Nothing can happen while he is in power.”

Technically, Harry’s answer was good enough, but Hermione needed to expand further, see how much of all this he had really thought through.
“You know most great heirs wait until they come to power before enacting a time of change.”
Harry sat up and looked at her, “He’s immortal Hermione.”
‘Fair point.’ she thought.
“Why don’t you lead a social campaign for change using your position of power.”
“He would have me killed or impirioed before I even thought about saying anything against his regime. No Hermione, I have spent three years thinking about it.”
Hermione didn’t press the subject further. She moved the conversation on to talk about what the centaurs had told her. They agree to meet the next night on the third floor to check it out together.

Hermione was absently stroking Crookshanks on her lap in the kitchen while finishing up ‘The Best Laid Plans’ by Sidney Sheldon when Pansy walked in. She looked frantic yet determined. Hermione was surprised Pansy even knew where the kitchens were; no pureblood ever came down her. When Pansy spotted Hermione, she immediately sat in the wooden bench across from Hermione and placed both her elbows on the table, intertwining her fingers. 
“Did you say no to Draco Malfoy on Friday night because you thought him and I were together?”
Pansy wanted to get straight to the point. Hermione set her book down; she needed to be very careful about what she said next. She wasn’t sure what part Pansy was so upset by. Was it her saying no to a pureblood outright, was it them being together, or was she happy she said no to Draco? Hermione needed more information. 
“Where did you hear that I said no to Draco?”
“Everybody was talking about it last night at the party. Apparently, Blaise blew up at Draco for playing like shit in the locker-room after the match and said it was because he wouldn’t do whatever pre-game stuff you and him usually do before a match, and so supposedly they had been screaming at each other for like five minutes before Draco finally admitted to asking you and you saying no. And now I’m being dragged into this because he turned you down because him and I are together.”
That was a lot of information. So, everyone knew that Hermione said no to Draco. That’s ok, she had said no to people in the past, but in this situation, she didn’t really have the power to refuse him. It was a stupid and rash decision on her part. Now Draco is probably fuming because he’s embarrassed and will more than likely take it out on Hermione later. She’ll need to talk to Harry about this when she sees him later. Will he even want to get involved? She will have to make him get involved. Draco could do anything. 

Now, why was Pansy here? There was nothing she could do about it, so the only way out was through with this conversation. 
“I did say no but not because you are together but because I was hurt when he said he didn’t want me.” Hermione didn’t even know that was the truth until she said it. 
“Ok good,” Pansy breathed a sigh of relief, “because you know me and him aren’t actually together. We’re betrothed but we don’t actually like each other. I was just really worried you were angry with me for like trying what it was like to be with him, it did not go well. And then I couldn’t really talk to you because you know Harry.”
“Why were you worried I was angry with you?”
Pansy frowned “Because we’re friends.”
Hermione was completely taken aback by this. She liked Pansy, yes. They told each other so much about themselves. Pansy was the only one who ever asked about her childhood. And Hermione told her all about the books she was reading. Pansy curated half her wardrobe. Hermione had just never thought about it before. She supposed, in their own twisted way, they were friends. 
“Thank you, Pansy.”
“You’re welcome and don’t worry I’m not going to let Draco do anything bad towards you.” Pansy stood and put her arm out to Hermione, “We women need to stick together.” She said before leaving. 

Chapter Text

Hermione waited in an alcove where a ghoulish-looking gargoyle stood by Harry’s apartment, waiting for Harry to come and meet her. That is when she heard yelling and the telltale signs of the stone steps moving on the entry stairs. Hermione instinctively hid behind one of the gargoyles and pressed herself to the wall. She peered out around the wing of the gargoyle to see Draco storming past. Once he had gone, Hermione dislodged herself from behind the statue. Harry was standing outside his room with his fists in his hair. 
When Harry noticed Hermione, he smiled and told her to wait there while he got his cloak. Hermione didn’t know what all that could have been about. Maybe they were finally talking again, she didn’t want to ask. When Harry came back, he threw the cloak over both of them, and they walked to the seventh floor. They threw off the cloak when they made up there. The seventh floor was simply one corridor. 
Harry started at one end of the corridor and Hermione started at the other. 
“Remember, think Room of Hidden Things.” Hermione whisper shouted down the hall. Harry threw up two thumbs up. 
They began to walk toward each other. They crossed over, made it to the end of the hall, turned and crossed back again, and turn, cross and turn. 

Suddenly, there was a door that had never been there before. Harry and Hermione ran to the centre of the corridor. Relief and gratitude waved through Hermione towards the centaurs. She hoped they were doing ok.

Harry didn’t hesitate as he pushed out the door. Hermione thought they should have run some diagnostics charms before entering a strange, magical room that appeared out of nowhere, but she didn’t want to seem like a mudblood.
“Bloody hell,” Harry said when he opened the door into a room filled and filled with stuff.
‘Shit,’ Hermione thought ‘how were they ever going to find anything in here.’
“Accio diadem,” Harry waved his wand. Nothing happened. He sighed, slightly disappointed. “Looks like we are going to have to try this the old-fashioned way.”
Harry and Hermione start walking down two parallel rows searching for the diadem.  

They had been searching for about 20 minutes when Harry asked, “Hermione, if you were to seduce to seduce me, how would you do it?”
“What!?” Hermione bursts. 
She saw Harry shrug his shoulder as they passed a tower of old newspapers. “You know, if you were going to try and get me to sleep with you, how would you do it.”
Hermione was thinking of her answer when Harry added in post “Obviously you don’t have to answer if you don’t want I was just curious, you know because I thought if anybody would know it would be you.”
Harry was nervous that he had offended her, which was sweet. She knew that he saw her as so much more than a sexual object, so she really didn’t mind the question.
“I don’t know,” Hermione picked up a necklace, it wasn’t a diadem so she put it down again, “I would probably have asked Draco about you first to get to know you a bit and then I probably would have Tried to talk to you about Quidditch either before or after a practice and then I would have just let it go from there.”
They had made it to a large gold statue of a particularly flamboyant-looking wizard by the name of Gilderoy Lockhart.
“How does someone lose something this?” Harry asks, distracted by the ludicrousness of the object.
‘The defender of the people,’ the inscription read. 
“Maybe the person who made it forgot where they put it,” Hermione throws out.
“Maybe.”

They continue on for another bit until they both meet at either side of a large wooden cabinet. 
“Not to sound arrogant but I don’t think it would have worked.”
“My seduction?”
“No, trying to catch me after practice and talk to me about Qudditch isn’t exactly inventing the wheel here Hermione.”
“Well, you caught me off guard. Had this been a life-or-death situation, you wouldn’t have even known that you were seduced until it was too late.
“Is that what happened with Draco?” 
“What?”
“Nothing. You’re right. You would have probably tricked me into inviting you onto a merciless treasure hunt where our certain doom is already guaranteed.”
“Of course, this was my plan all along. How did you know?” Hermione agreed with a smile. This treasure hunt did seem hopeless. Hermione paused, thinking of Ginny and Pansy. Ginny’s vicious outburst and Pansy being betrothed to Draco and being perfectly happy with him, both sleeping with Hermione.

“Are you asking me about my methods because you have someone in mind you want to seduce?”
Harry turned a deep shade a red and walked away, “I think we should go this way.” He walked in a completely random direction. 
“Harry, wait,” Hermione said, calling after him, but he was fast, and there was so much stuff. She lost him around a sculptural pile of chairs. 
“Harry!” She called. 
“Hermione!” she heard a moment later. He wasn’t too far away.
She shouldn’t have lost him; he wasn’t that far ahead of her. “Harry, stay where you are, and I’ll come find you.”
“Ok,” Harry yelled, but he sounded much further away now than he did before. Can he have moved that fast, or maybe he was behind something? 
“Marco,” Hermione shouted. It took a moment before she heard Harry shout back, “John.”
“No Harry you’re supposed to shout back Polo.”
“Why, John is a much more common name.”
Hermione didn’t have the time to explain the history of the game to Harry. Hermione turned a corner only to find she was right back at the large wooden cabinet they had stopped at earlier. But that couldn’t be possible. The cabinet should have been behind her. Unless it moved. It was still covered in dust. Hermione looked down at the floor and couldn’t see any scuff marks. If the cabinet had moved, there would be some sign of it. 

“Marco,” Hermione yelled again, resuming the task of finding Harry. “Paula,” Harry shouted back.
Hermione rounded another and came back to the large gold statue of Gilderoy Lockhart. Feeling fruitless in her methods, Hermione began to climb up on the statue of Gilderoy. She got both her feet onto his shoulder, which were out in a wand dual position and grabbed onto for additional support. 
Hermione could see so much more from this angle. She looked back from where she came from and saw her path close up. It wasn’t the objects that were moving; it was the floor under them shaping the routes. This was a magic maze. And Harry and Hermione were trapped inside. Hermione looked around frantically for the door. To her delight, it was still there. Except when she looked closer, she saw that it was blocked by more and more stuff. 

“HARRY!” she screamed in a panic. 
“POLO!” he screamed back. 
“Harry can you see me?”
“No, where are you.”
“I’m up on the statue.”
“I can’t see a statue.”
“Harry this is a maze.”
“Ya I know.”
“No, it is a moving maze. The paths keep shifting. The room is trying to trap us in here.” Somewhere off in the distance, Hermione swore she saw a shot of fire shoot up.
“Ok what should we do?” Harry screamed back. Hermione needed to think fast. They needed to get off the ground. 
“Harry we need to find a broom.” 
Hermione waited a moment to hear Harry shout back.
“Harry?” Harry didn’t answer. “HARRY.” Harry wasn’t answering. 

Hermione dismounted from the man and began to run. She needed to find Harry. Hermione heard a large crash behind her as she went. She looked back and saw that the floor was trying to keep up with her pace. It was trying the change direction as she sped along its byways. The fast pace of the floor caused the amount of stuff to fall as they were pushed too quickly due to the precarious nature of their construction. Once one pile fell, they all began to fall. Hermione watched almost in slow motion as an avalanche of stuff started falling her way. She was going to be crushed. Hermione raced down a lane way as fast as she could. She needs to keep going as the world started to fall down around her. Books, toys, clothes, chairs, mirrors, make-up, odd things and small things, greater and all things began to fall and crash and smash. 

Hermione skidded around another corner. She saw the large wooden cabinet at the end of the row. Maybe if she could just make it inside that she thought, she might be safe. She ran, she ran faster, she could feel the landslide behind her, nearing. She wasn’t going to make it, she wasn’t going to make it. Hermione stretched out her arm in hope. The darkness grew above her head. All the things were coming down. 

Bang!

Hermione was tossed to the side. Instinctively, Hermione shut her eyes. But then she never hit the ground. Hermione was moving fast. She could feel the wind at her back. She slowly opened her eyes to see Harry smiling down with his big goofy smile. Harry flying on a broom, carrying them out of the chaos. 
“Wotcher, Marco.”
Hermione laughed. In sheer euphoria, they had survived. Harry was flying towards the door. 
“Wait what about the diadem?” Hermione called.
Harry gave a smug look, only to pull the diadem out from his pocket. 
“It spotted it up high while I was trying to find you on the statue. It was like I was drawn to it. Then, well anyways I got sort of distracted.”
Hermione threw her hands more around Harry, just so happy. They had made it out of there alive. 

Chapter Text

Harry walked Hermione back to her room. He came in a quickly threw up a Silencing Charm. 
“Meet me back where we first met not tomorrow night but the next night.”
“Ok,” Hermione hesitated and added before Harry left, “Oh Harry I don’t know if you’ve heard what happened between Draco and I but I need to know that you would stop him if he tried to get me back for it.”
“Draco would never hurt you.” Harry said definitively in his Heir voice. He threw his cloak back on and left. 

Hermione let out a sigh and pulled a few pieces of jewellery that she had grabbed from the room and stuffed them into her pocket. Hermione got on her hands and knees and pulled out a lockbox from under her bed. She added the treasures to her very full collection. Although Hermione didn’t grow up poor, she knew her dad wanted her out of the house as quickly as possible. Her gifts were her ticket out of here. The master plan. 

Ever since Krum gave her his signet ring back in fourth year, she knew that she needed money and power. The only way Hermione could get either in the Wizarding World in Britain was through sex. Hermione didn’t want that for her life. Even though Hermione could live in the lap of luxury, she didn’t want to do it sitting on someone else’s lap. She was going to take all her jewels and fly to Australia and build a life for herself over there. Mudbloods aren’t even granted port key passes in Britain. But in Australia, Muggle-borns are viewed as equals. She won’t even register; she’ll just live as a Muggle and start her life anew. Luckily, she wasn’t short on jewels or else Harry’s plan would have really bolloxed her over. 

Hermione’s first class on Monday was History of Magic. The ceilings were high, and light flooded in from the wall of windows to Hermione’s left. The roof was decorated in romantic buttresses that came to multiple points above her head. 
Hermione was rereading a part of her History essay when Harry and Draco walked in. Most people probably didn’t know that Draco wasn’t talking to Harry because from the outside, they behaved the same. They still went to all their classes together, played Quidditch and went to their meals together. It was all normal until Draco did something very strange. 

Completely out of the ordinary, Draco sat down next to Hermione. He didn’t say anything as he began unpacking his books. Hermione’s blood ran cold. What was he up to? Hermione kept her head down. Whatever he was doing, she would not be blamed for starting it. 
Only when Harry got to the front of the classroom did he realise that Draco wasn’t behind him. He looked around and spotted him sitting next to Hermione. They must have looked a scene. No one sits next to a mudblood. Even if there is only one seat next to them available, it is expected that the mudblood should move to stand at the back. This was different. This was their first class. There were loads of seats available. It was so late into the school year that they basically had assigned seating at this stage.

“Draco.” Harry called. 
Draco was slouching in his seat, and Hermione could see out of the corner of his eye him stick his tongue to his cheek. He was contemplating to consequences of not coming when called. Harry locked his jaw and pressed a stare. Then Harry turned around and sat down. Draco stayed where he was. 

Hermione could feel the others stare at them as they filed in. Draco didn’t move. He didn’t say a word and behaved completely normally. Hermione’s nerves began to twitch. Draco participated in class. Mr Binns didn’t seem to notice the change, although, Hermione doubted he noticed much. 

Then Draco did it again in the next class. And again. And again. Hermione was relieved when lunch finally came. But for every class they shared that day, Draco sat next to her. He didn’t say a word except in Transfiguration when he leaned over and asked if McGonagall said the test was on this Friday or next, it was next. 

Hermione could not figure out what he was doing. The best he could come up with is that Pansy told him he couldn’t hurt her, so he has opted for discreet psychological warfare. 

On Tuesday, their first class was Dark Arts. Umbridge had tolerated the new seating arrangement yesterday, but clearly wasn’t happy about it, which was evidenced by her disapproving squeak. And so on Tuesday, when Draco came in just after Hermione and sat down next to her, Umbridge came bounding down the aisle. 
“Mister Malfoy I may have tolerated this nonsense once because of how high your father is in the Ministry but I’m afraid that this cannot continue,” she huffed. 
Hermione smirked. Draco cast her a look that said, ‘Can you believe this woman?’ as if Hermione were in on the joke. Everyone was watching. 
“And where would you have me sit?”
“Where you usually sit would suffice,” she said with a simpering smile.
“Oh no,” Draco elongated the vowels “Do you see, my lord, has ordered me to sit right here.”
Umbridge shook with anger as she looked back at Harry. Harry sat pin-straight towards the front of class. Hermione could not believe that Harry had ordered this, but then she shouldn’t doubt him just because he has shown himself to be kind. He has also shown himself to be cunning. 

Hermione was too busy thinking about Harry to notice Umbridge’s attention move to her. 
“Well, move,” she screetched.
Panicked, Hermione began to collect her stuff. 
“Honestly, the fact that you thought you could just sit there. You, young lady are a prime example of a mudblood who needs to be taught some discipline. Detention tonight I think it’s about time that someone put you in your place.”
“Professor I can assure you Draco has put me in my place on numerous occasions.”
Umbridge actually turned pink with anger. Draco snickered as Hermione sat down next to him. 
“Get out!” Umbridge screamed. Hermione was about to protest. 

“Professor do you intend to start the lesson at some point today or will we all be forced to suffer as you fail to rectify something as inconsequential as seating.” Harry directs mundanely from the front of the classroom.
There is a murmur of agreement from the rest of the class. Umbridge stomps her little foot and marches back up to the front of the room. 
“Yes, my lord,” Umbridge does a half-awkward little bow to Harry. 

The next lesson they had together. Draco once again sat next to Hermione, but this time he shared his textbook with her. She took the offer, but it did not negate her suspicions of the game he was playing. 

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Ch 10 – It gets hard sometimes

Hermione was contemplating changing where she ate breakfast. Too many people had been bothering her at too early in the morning. This morning it was McGonagall. Although she loved the headmistress, Hermione just wanted to be left alone in the mornings.

But McGonagall was in a panic. She insisted Hermione show her her arm immediately. Hermione had wrapped it up before going to bed last night in the hopes that it would help the scars heal. So she had to undo her wrappings to expose her arm. When she did, McGonagall gaspedand  insisted that she make her way to the Hospital wing. To ensure she went ,McGonagall escorted her to Madame Pompfry.

“I know you may think me an old fool Miss Granger but really how did expect to hide this from me in class?” McGonagall asked as they walked along the hall.

“I’m sorry Headmistress.” Hermione said quietly, a little ashamed that she hadn’t even thought about going to the Hospital Wing. There really was no need to make a fuss.

“Well I glad you told someone or else I fear that we would have never known what discipline methods Umbridge was administering.”

Hermione furrowed her brow in confusion. They knew what Umbridge did. The only reason McGonagall was here now was because Harry had been offended.

“You are a bright girl Miss Granger. I am worried that the path you have chosen might not be the most suitable.”

Hermione snapped, “What would have me do? End up dead in a ditch like Justin!” It was early, she knew better than to talk back. But being criticised for what she did by McGonagall for the first time hit a nerve. Plus, with what happened with Umbridge last night, Hermione was just having one of those weeks. She immediately felt guilty for using Justin's name to land a blow. 

“There is really no need to raise your voice at me. I understand the dangers you face. I just wish that you would be careful. The children you are dealing with are rash and irresponsible. And you, you are not just dealing with their emotions, you are dealing with their hearts. Young people are just as quick to love as they are to hate, Miss Granger. This is where I leave you. Do be careful.”

Hermione flipped over the conversation she had with McGonagall over and over in her head. It was ironic that the Headmistress had chosen to say all this to her now, the one time in the last few years that she wasn’t actually sleeping with anyone. Hermione was alive with fury by the time she was patched up. She kept thinking of things she should have said rather than the extremely stupid thing she did say. She hadn’t meant to use Justin’s name. It had just slipped out. Hermione buried the thought of her old friend deep, deep down.

When Hermione was released from the Hospital wing, she ditched class and went to the edge of the Dark Lord’s forest. Tucked on the outskirts of the grounds just before the tree line began, there lay a grave. Marked by a cross of simple wood. Hermione hadn’t gone yet to visit this year yet. She felt guilty for avoiding it. The guilt she felt spurred her on to see him now. If she didn’t go, no one would and then Justin would just be forgotten.

Justin Finch-Fletchley was the only other mudblood who started in the same year as Hermione. They were quite different personality-wise wise but they grew close due to their proximity.

They met on the train up to Hogwarts in the back carriage that was reserved for mudbloods. Where the other carriages had plush, cushioned compartments for the purebloods and thinly cushioned seats with open seating around tables for the half-bloods, they had two-seater wooden benches that hurt after sitting on them for a long duration. Hermione had excitedly hugged her parents goodbye on the platform. Despite what she had read, Hermione thought she might finally fit in at this school. Her parents were relieved to see her go. Since getting the news that Hermione was a witch, they had also gotten numerous pamphlets about the danger of Muggle-born witches. One even said that if Hermione didn't become an obscurial, she would almost certainly become mad with untrained magic and begin tormenting those around her. This pamphlet listed numerous historical sources which Hermione found to be unverifiable. And Hermione knew that she would never hurt her parents. But the several readings they had been given had done enough to scare them into being glad she was going. They said they still loved her even if she was different now. Hermione didn't feel any different, but she was excited to meet other children who were different like her.

When Hermione boarded the carriage, she noticed that there were actually very few Muggle-borns, only about one, maybe two at a stretch, every year. With the way the writings focus on them, she thought mudbloods were a much more prevalent problem in wizarding society. Hermione saw a small boy by himself on one of the first rows of benches. She figured he must be in first year just like her because the older years tended to sit towards the back of the carriage. 

“I’m Hermione Granger.” She said, holding out her arm for him to shake, “And you are?”

“Justin,” the boy responded with a pout. He was clearly upset about something.

“What’s wrong?” she sat down beside him.

“You know where they're taking us, right?” His arms were folded, and he continued to stare out the window.

“Yes. They're taking us to a school.”

“It is for them. Not for us. We are only being forced to come so we don’t accidentally blow something up. We don’t even have wands.”

“I’m sure we will still learn a lot. Cheer up, we get to learn magic. It will be fun.” She encouraged. How wrong she was.  

Justin didn't cheer up. He didn't want to be here. He told her about how he wanted to start school with all his other friends in Birmingham. He had read that they only played a weird sport called Quidditch, no football. For every negative thing Justin would say, Hermione would say something positive, like how the food was probably much nicer.

When Hermione first started, she was so eager to prove herself as a real witch. She put up her hand in every class. She was desperate to be called on. She never was; the teachers would just scan their eyes over her and act like she wasn’t there. She tried so hard in all of her classes. She didn’t care that she wasn’t allowed to do certain things; she was still going to try her best. Justin was different, he was angrier. He kept telling Hermione to shut up and be quiet. She wouldn’t listen.

On the second Tuesday before Christmas break, they a big fight in their room that night about how Hermione was acting in class. Earlier that day, Justin had been hit with a Stinging Hex meant for Hermione. Justin said that if Hermione didn’t learn to keep her head down, Stinging hexes wouldn’t be the worst thing she’d suffer. Hermione tried to argue that if they kept trying, the others would see that mudbloods were just as good as them and accept them. Justin was sick of blind naivety and stormed out. Hermione went to bed crying. Justin was her only possible friend here, and she just couldn't manage it. She never had any friends back home, and now she wasn't going to have any friends here. She fell asleep crying that night. She never noticed that he didn't come back. 

The next morning, Hermione woke to find Justin’s bed empty. Once she saw that his bed was empty, she sprang up and began to search for him. She searched to whole dungeon. When she couldn't find him anywhere down there, she went into all the classrooms. She still couldn't find him; she had searched for him everywhere she could inside, so she had to go outside. It was freezing, she was still in her pyjamas, and she hadn’t perfected heating charms the way she had now. The ground was covered in a blanket of snow. The cold bit at her toes and extremities. As more and more time passed and she still couldn’t find him, Hermione grew more and more panicked.

Then she saw something out on the frozen Great Lake. Hermione ran down the hill as fast as she could in her slippers in the snow. When she got closer, she could see the red. The blood. It pooled around this small, still body. If it wasn’t for all the blood, Justin looked like he could have been sleeping. Hermione never stopped running towards him. She skidded across the ice and landed on her knees by his head. She remembered calling his name, trying to wake him. If she could just get him to wake up, then it would all be ok.

“Miss Granger!” she had heard someone call off in the distance. It was McGonagall “Young lady it is freezing get inside at once.” She yelled.

Then she saw the body. She stopped. She called at Filch to get Madame Pomfry. Hermione's memory faded into spots. She knew someone had grabbed her and brought her up to the Hospital wing. And she remembers little bits after that, but she will never forget finding Justin dead on the ice.

School continued on as normal. No one said anything. No one said it was a tragedy. Justin was just dead. There was no investigation. It was like Justin never even existed. Sometimes she wondered if people in her year even remembered him. Of course, she will never know what happened that night, but from that moment onwards, Hermione was quiet.

It came in moods for her, frequently over years, where she just had a week or two of feeling a great guilt that Justin died and not her. She was nothing. She deserved to die. She deserved to be torn apart by them, forced to lick their boots. These ideas didn’t stay for long, but they did pass by more commonly than Hermione wanted.

Two years ago, on the anniversary of Justin’s death, Hermione wanted to be ruined. She wanted not to think. To place her hand over the candle and let her flesh burn. So she went to Draco.

On. Her. Knees.

She had felt the feeling bubbling in her all that week, and she knew that on Justin’s anniversary day, she didn’t want to think. So when Draco came in from Quidditch practice that morning, Hermione was there waiting for him. She wore a silky, emerald green, baby doll lingerie that made her breasts look delightfully perked. Draco paused at the sight of her.

“Please let me suck your cock, Master Malfoy.” She said willingly.

It took Draco a moment to recover from his initial surprise before he walked over with fierce purpose. He took Hermione by either side of her waist and lifted her up as if she weighed nothing. Then he kissed her and kissed her again as he lifted her over to the bed. Draco kissed her as he did most things with determination and precision. Then, once she was laid out on the bed, Draco grabbed his wand and ran a diagnostic charm to check that it was actually her.

“I need to go for a shower.”

“I’ll come with,” she responded eagerly. Draco smirked.

“You’ll need to undress me.” Hermione went to do just that. Draco stopped her. “No hands.” Draco flipped them over so Hermione was now the one on top. Straddling him, she patiently used her mouth to undo every buckle and strap that encased Draco’s muscular body. When Hermione got the pants, she took her time. She could feel that Draco was already erect. Draco didn’t stop her as she began to kiss and lick his impressive member. He definitely didn’t object when she spun herself around so she ass faced him and took his significant length. She started slowly. Letting her mouth take in all of him before releasing him with a pop. Then Draco placed two of his fingers on the outside of her underwear, rubbing her exactly where she needed to be touched. Hermione picked up speed. She still refused to use her hands as she adjusted her head to take down as much of him as she could. As the tempo increased, so too did the length that she took in. Hermione's tits became undone from the top and slapped rhythmically as Hermione's head moved to consume Draco's throbbing cock. Suddenly, Draco let a deep moan as he came inside her mouth. Hermione swallowed it all up, willingly.

When the moment had passed, Hermione spun herself back around to face him as he panted.

“Did I please you, Master Draco.”

Draco smiled and rubbed his hands on the outside of her bare thighs. “Yes you did. Even if you did fail to undress me.”

“I’m sorry. Please punish me for my short comings.”

That he did. They fucked in the shower until the water ran cold. Hermione used her legs to push herself up against the shower wall, and Draco rode her into oblivion. Draco carried her back to the bed, kissing her as they went. When Draco dropped her back onto the mattress, he said, “We should probably go to class at some point today.”

“No stay.” Hermione reached up and grabbed his waist, pulling him towards her, and she opened her legs for him to step between.

“You don’t want to go to class today.” His hands casually rested on her lower thigh. No, she thought, she wanted him to make her feel like nothing but his. 

“No, I want you to keep me today. I want only live for you today.”

She didn’t want to go to class. Class meant long hours of sitting and thinking about today. In Draco’s room, she was nothing. She was nothing to him. She was something to fuck. She wanted to be just something to fuck.

Draco didn’t argue again about it as he shoved his hardened cock inside Hermione. Hermione took it in with a gleeful gasp. 

Chapter Text

They had a free the next day for Dark Arts and rumours about why circled Hermione’s head like wild fire. Hermione went to sit in usual spot on the first year end of the Hufflepuff table when a hand grabbed her. He dragged her semi-resistantly over to the seventh year side of the Slytherin table. Hermione had heard some one group of seconds years once refer to this spot as the corner of the gods. But Hermione had learned when not to say no, when to let go.

So she let Draco guide her over to the Slytherin table and put her sitting right next to him facing the room. She breathed in calmly as she sat down. Their whole world was watching. The rest of the class stared at her. All of the other Slytherins stared at her. She hoped it was abundantly clear that she was here against her will.

Even when she took out her new book ‘The Bell Jar’ by Sylvia Plath, Drcao pushed it away and push his text book towards her.

“You’ll never pass your N.E.W.T.S. if you don’t study,” he whispered in her ear, only loud enough for her to hear.

“You don’t want a dumb whore?” she whispered back.

“If only you were dumb, then perhaps you would not torment me so.”

A cough across the table distracted them before she could respond. It came from Millicent Blustrode. Millicent was a plain-looking half-blood. She was the only half-blood in Slytherin and somehow she thought that evevated her above the others. Hermione always found it odd that she was such a strong blood purist, given her own situation. Regardless, Hermione was already feeling self-conscious enough sitting at the table so she decided to just put her head down and start studying from Draco’s text.

When the bell rang out for lunch gorgeous roast beef with gravy and mash potatoes appeared on the table before them. There was a place set for each of the including Hermione. Hermione began to pick up her stuff to leave. She was going to have her lunch in the kitchens as always. Then Draco placed a hand on her thigh to keep her there. When she said she wanted to find a different place to eat yesterday morning this was not what she meant.

Millicent rolled her eyes as Hermione was in a half sitting, half standing motion with Draco’s hands on her thigh. “Have some decorum.” She tsked.

“Yes, I think everyone has had a great show and I must go.” Hermione agreed. People were starting to arrive for their lunch. She was getting stares. Stares were not good. Stares meant people were watching her. Hermione hated to be watched. Even more than that she hated to be seen and she was being seen by every Slytherin at the table.

“Sorry, Millicent I didn’t know you had such strong opinions about where people sat, perhaps you would like to sit down with the Hufflepuffs since there are much more or your kind over there anyways.” Draco threatened casually. He never took his eyes off Hermione. Millicent went pink and hung her head. She didn’t reply.

“Yes,” stay Blaise smiled one of his charming smiles there are somethings we want to clarify before Hogwarts rumour mill starts churning.”

“I’m sure Harry could clarify them for you.” Hermione tried.

“You expect the Heir to be your mouth piece?” Daphne asked with her head cocked to the side innocently. Daphne was always nice but damn could she be cutting.

Reluctantly, Hermione sat down.

People were still staring when Pansy threw up a Silencing charm around her, Draco, Harry, Daphne and Blaise. Hermione felt impossibly trapped. Like her leg was caught is a bear trap. The others began to eat. They were carnivors and she was prey.

“So,” Pansy began scooping a large portion of mash potateo onto her plate, “Let’s get the first and most obvious question out of the way. What happened with Umbridge

“I don’t know.” Hermione said staring at Harry not registering Draco putting vegetables onto her plate.

“So, you don’t know what happened in the detention you had with her?” Daphne asked maintaining that ever innocent tone.

“Am… well…I…” Hermione stumbled. It wasn’t that she couldn’t talk to purebloods but she had no control over this situation. Hermione tried to look to Harry but he was giving her nothing. She spoke the next words slowly, “There may have been what one may consider in certain circumstances an incident that could offend.”

“Hermione,” Blaise said pressing the crook of his arm over his eyes, “You’ve suck my cock at least once a week for the last two years, you made Draco come right a breakfast where Crabbe is sitting right now last year, what could Umbridge have possible done that you feel embarrassed about?”

“Didn’t need to know that, darling,” Daphne adds.

“Only once in the name of Quidditch since I got you, my love.” Blaise drew Daphne closer and kissed her on the cheek.

“The point is,” Pansy continues rolling her eyes at the happy couple, “if you don’t tell us we’ll be forced to get creative to fill in the blanks.”

“Oh yes,” Daphne squealed, “perhaps she tried to get you to jump off a tower.”

“Or perhaps she got you to clean the whole classroom naked.” Blaise laughed.
“Or maybe she made you eat her out.” Pansy added.

These were truly disgusting thing that made Hermione’s insides curl. It frightened her also that these ideas came so readily to them. At least they though a teacher would get fired for doing these things to a mudblood. Hermione didn’t think they would get so much as a slap on the wrist. Draco and Harry hadn’t said a thing they were just staring at eachother. It was like they were in their own conversation. For the first time Hermione considered that Harry may be a Legilimens. The Dark Lord was fame for skills in the mind so why not his beloved Heir. It made Hermione feel uneasy at the thought that he could be inside her mind and she’d never even know it.

“Interesting how you think that would get a teacher fired.”

Blaise pursed his lips together, “Not in typical circumstances – But when you’re the plaything of half of the young Death Eaters and the secret keeper for the other half that does afford one with a certain kind of protection.”

She didn’t respond. There was no good way to answer that.

“Isn’t that why you fuck us mudblood so we’ll protect you.”

“Blaise shut up,” Pansy interjected.

“You fuck us and like it so someone might save you.”

“Blaise,” Daphne tried to call back.

This side of Blaise only came out very rarely. He was right about her keeping his secrets. She knew all about his mother, who he hated, who lived a life not too dissimilar to her own. Them pretending like they were friends was a mind field. But hatred and humiliation that was checkers to her.

Hermione smiled “Well done Mr Zabini after three years you finally caught on.” Hermione had been in way worse situations than this. She knew that Blaise didn’t want humility right now, he wanted a fight. “Would like a blow job or a hand job as your reward?” She maintained her sincerity.

“A blow job if you please you hand jobs are quite shit” No they weren’t she thought.

“Of course Mr Zabini but remember I do have half of the young Death Eaters at my beck and call so if I just so happened to bite off your penis while I’m down there don’t get too upset with me or one of them might get you.”

“You’re right best grab that mouth clamp I know you have for those long nights.” Blaise smiled. He was back to enjoying their teasing now. Hermione found it so strange that he could be the nicest boy in the world then it the middle of a conversation it’s like he goes away for a while and comes back. She hadn’t worked out if it was just with her, because of his mother or was is with everyone else as well.

“Why wait for me to head down stairs and come back up when me and Daphne here could just tag team it. She takes the penis and I’ll stick my finger up your –“

“Can you stop playing with your food?” Draco interrupts for the first time. She stops.

“Can you show me your forearm?” he asks simply without any emotion.

Hermione pulls up the sleeve on her shirt to reveal the still pink letters – Mudblood.

Madame Pompfry had her put a salve on it to heal. The word would never be fully gone from her skin but it would fade.

“Shit.” Pansy exclaimed when she leaned in to see it. For the second time today Hermione felt very uncomfortable at being seen.

“Blood quill.” Harry stated.

They sat back, and Hermione tucked her forearm back up her sleeve.

“Like it’s not the worst. Like we’ve seen worse. We’ve seen her do worse. But – wow. Its just so permenant.” Daphne exclaimed.

“How many times did it take?” Pansy asked gently.

“Once.”

The way Pansy looked at her with such abject pity made her want to get up and run.

“Well I for one am glad she’s gone. Sorry Hermione I know you got hurt but she was a shit teacher. She is gone right, Harry?”

Harry nodded, “She’s dead. Sectumsempra.”

Hermione’s blood ran very cold. Her stomach turned and she regretted eating any food at all. She had never liked the woman, no. She had wished her dead many a time. Hermione took a deep breath in and remembered all the pain she had caused her. Then she was fine. Hermione was numb to the idea of it. A moment later Hermione even found herself slightly giddy at the thought.

That afternoon the story about what happened to Umbridge was out. People ran from Hermione. It was completely different when Harry had first chosen her. They used to ignore her existence now they feared it. Hermione actually saw group of fifth year Gryffindor boys move seats in the courtyard because Hermione came out and read her book.

Hermione should have hated this more but she didn’t. The purebloods the ones she served didn’t fear her. She didn’t mistake today’s adventure to the lunch table for friendship. It remained a roll of give and take. She would sit and entertain them, give them the gossip first and in return she got to sit at the table for a while. They didn’t need to fear her the way the others did. They just didn’t need to offend Harry with how they treated her.

Except she got the feeling there was something more there to their conversation. It was like it had been pre-discussed. They had wanted to show the student body something. Perhaps that she was theirs. Purebloods who were so rich and powerful they could keep people as pets.

Even with this new found power Hermione remained level headed. She was only allowed sit at the table so long as she was useful.

Hermione need to break into the library again that night. She needed to begin her research on how to destroy powerful objects.

She went at midnight. She snuck up the back stairs that led directly to the second floor where the library was located. She tip-toed down the hall letting the moonlight be her only source of light. When she opened the door to the library she cast a small Lumos in the palm of her hand and continued inside.

Hermione made her way through the shelves picking up books as she went. When she got to the last shelf were most of the Dark Arts books were housed she notice that the door to the Restricted section was open. The Restricted section was never open. She had never been inside. Although, she had wanted to break in so many times throughout the years. Did Madam Pince really leave the door unlocked? Really what if what she was looking for was anywhere it was probably in the restricted section, she thought. She couldn’t help herself and darted in past the intricate black iron clad gate that made a wall separating the good books from the bad books.

Hermione became enthralled by the titles inside, ‘Nine ways to kill a Unicorn’, ‘The Manifesto of Geralt Grindlewald’, ‘Bewitching Blood Curses: How to ensure effective application’. They were all brutal in their own ways. Hermione wanted to read them all. So many books in here were on topics she had never even heard of.

Idly Hermione walk through the shelves. Her hand stopped over a book entitled ‘Muggles and Wizards and Co-habitation’. She was surprise a book like that survived on the shelf and hadn’t been burnt a long time ago. Then she heard muffled whispers. Hermione stomach dropped as she realised that she was not alone. Hesitantly she looked through the shelves but could see nothing. She could most definitely hear something. She pressed her ear to the shelves and listened.

“I just don’t understand why it has to be her,” a posh sounding voice said pleadingly.

“I need her,” the deeper-sounding voice said.

“But you don’t even love her,”
“And you do?”

“I care for her more than you,”

“Possession isn’t love.”
“Possession is all I can have.”

“No. That’s all you are brave enough to look for,”

One of the many books Hermione was holding dropped from her hand at that moment.

“What was that?” one of them asked in a panic. Hermione dared not to move. She heard the pair walk quickly out of the Restricted Section with taking a second to stop and then she heard them lock the door behind themselves. Hermione waited another moment to make sure the pair had left the library before she darted to the gate.

It was locked. She rattled at it, but it would not budge.

“Alohamora”, she tried. Fuck, it wouldn’t work. Every first year with half a brain cell knew that spell. The place probably had and advanced locking charm in place. She was trapped.

She could wait it out until morning. Get caught and suffer the consequences. Even being the Heir chief breeding bitch wouldn’t get her out of blatantly breaking the school rules though. She needed to think. Maybe the answer was in one of the books. Surely one of there was some book in here that dealt with lock breaking.

Frantically she skimmed the shelves until she came across a book called, ‘Locks and Keys and Other Means of Keeping Prisoners’. Hermione skipped to the chapter on cell breaches. It described a rune enchantment that could break most muggle iron pad locks. She had a basic understanding of how rune magic worked. It was worth a go, she acknowledged. She would just need to draw the runes on the lock and press some magic into it. She hoped she understood what it meant by press some magic into it. Now all she needed to do was find something to write with.

Hermione reached for her ankle and took off one of her anklets. She grabbed the sharp ‘M’ and scratched the runes from the book onto the door. She scratched the symbols carefully and precisely. There was no room for error once a mark was made it couldn’t be rubbed out. Once she double checked her work she put the anklet back on glad to have it back where it belonged. For the short period it was off it felt strange. Hermione walked forward and placed her palm on the rune. Then she pushed some of her magic into the symbol.

Bang!!

The door exploded open with a crash. Hermione grabbed her books and ran.

Chapter Text

They were all marched into the Great Hall before class the next morning. Hermione stood against the back wall with the rest of the mudbloods. Headmistress McGonagall stood at the top of the room. The tension in the room was palpable. A soft murmur filled the hall before McGonagall spoke. The mudbloods didn't speak to one another. Whats was a bigger target than one mudblood? Two mudbloods. Hermione stood against the back wall, her head down. She put in an effort to make it look as though her head was just casually facing down, rather than what she was actually doing, which was avoiding people's eyes. There was so many people, it was a habit from first year to keep one's eyes trained on the floor. Hermione didn't really know the younger mudbloods; everyone sort of kept to themselves. She often felt guilty at not putting in a bigger effort at getting to know them. Maybe she could help them. But how could she do that, she couldn't even help herself. They were all so busy just trying to survive, they kept to themselves. So, she hadn't asked them why they thought the school had been gathered. Hermione suspected that the news hadn't yet broken and that no one knew why they were here. 

McGonagall stood. Her powerful presence caused a wave of silence to wash over the crowd. She didn't need to press the tip of her wand to her voice box to be heard, instead her voice carried easily to the back of the room with ease. “It appears last night that some hooligan broke into the Restricted Section in the library and decided to have their pick of the lot. Several rare, precious and frankly dangerous books were stolen last night. And we intend to search every room and dorm until the culprit is found. Now, you can save us all the trouble and face a much lighter punishment if you reveal yourselves now.”

No one spoke up. Hermione kept her eyes pinned to the floor. She wasn’t stupid enough to admit to her crimes. She would have to find a way to hide the books she had taken last night and the other mis-borrowed books she had in her possession over the year.

“Do not worry we have no intention of interrupting your schooling for this. Room searches will be carried out during your classes.” All the students let out a collective groan. “Now off to class.”

Hermione made a beeline for Harry. He was walking out with his friends when Hermione grabbed him roughly by the head and kissed him passionately in front of everyone.

“That was for last night.” She said loud enough for others to overhear. Hermione was standing on either side of Harry’s legs, on her tiptoes, pressing her vagina onto his thigh.  “But I’m nervous with these room searches, they’ll see what a mess we made.” Hermione looked up at Harry through her lashes, her tits pressed delectably towards him. She willed him to play along. Harry took a moment to process what she was saying before it seemed like his mind was rebooting. 

“You're right, let’s head down to your room before class. I’m sure they won’t mind me being slightly late. And perhaps we’ll find the time to fit in another go,” Harry’s arm had snaked around her waist as he gave her ass a tight squeeze. Hermione yelped playfully. Harry grabbed her by the hand a quickly led her down to the dungeons together.

Once they were alone, they separated. They walked soundlessly to Hermione’s room. Harry closed the door behind them when he came inside and took in all the books Hermione had gathered. He let out a low whistle.

“Merlin Hermione, when you said you would research it, I didn’t think that meant cleaning out half the library."

"Its a very difficult thing you are looking to do, Harry," Hermione answered quickly, already starting to gather up the books, "I'll talk to you more about it later because I know you don't like talking in here but it's proving to be quiet a challenege."

"Trust me I know. Did I tell you I tried buring the locket in Dragon fire."

"No. You have a dragon?" Hermione was putting all the books on the bed to make sure she didn't miss any hiding in the corner. 

"Draco, has a dragon," Harry picked up a large pile and grunted as he toppled them onto the bed, "How did you even carry them all?” he exclaimed after having felt the weight of a few ancient texts. 

“Shrinking spell,” Hermione answered quickly, doing a final auxiliary check around the room. “We need to find a way to either hide these here or somewhere close by, or we need to find a way to transport them up to your room and keep them there.”

“Ok, what if we shrunk them down again and put them in your school bag and transported them up that way?”

“I never shrunk down the rare ones, it would damage them too much,” Hermione grimaced.

“Ok ok what we made never ending bag and put the books in there and brought them up to my room.”

“Like Mary Poppins.”

“What?”

“Never mind, how do we do that?”

“Ammmm”, Harry scrunched up his face trying to remember the spell.

Suddenly, he is broken from his thoughts as he hears footsteps approach, click heels on the flagstone floor down the hall.

Hermione looks at Harry in a panic.

“Quick lie on top of me,” she whispers.

“On the books?” Harry indicates the piles of books Hermione had placed all over the bed.

“On the floor.” Hermione quickly instructs as Harry gets on top of her, fully clothed, squeezing in an awkward angle along the narrow space before the door.

The door opens back, and parts of their limbs spill out onto the feet of their intruder. Draco looks down at them, boredom etched across his face. He looked down at that entangled couple and drawled, “Do I even want to know what you two bozos are up to?”

He stepped over them in a single stride into the room.

“Draco”, Harry says as Hermione says “Malfoy”, getting up and dislodging themselves from the floor.

“What are you doing here, mate?” Harry asks, straightening out his uniform.

“I came down to see what you were up to. That display at breakfast was almost disturbingly bad.” Draco explains, never moving from his staccato tone. He looks around the room, “So you’re the book thief.” Draco casually picked up one of the tomes.

“Why aren’t you in class?” Harry asked, a tinge of panic lacing his voice.

“We have Professor Avery this morning, he lets purebloods do whatever we want.” Draco continued to flick through the book he held before putting it down calmly. “I think it's about time you two tell me what the hell it is you're up to because I know you’re not fucking.” Hermione's mind went blank. She needed to convince him that she and Harry were together. She could jump on Harry, she thought. But before her barin could even formulate a semi-coherent thought, Harry answers - poorly.
“We could be.” Harry's voice rose indignantly at the suggestion, “You saw us there practically all over each other writhing on the floor.”

Draco raised a perfectly arched eyebrow and sighed. “What were you doing, dry humping on the floor with your clothes? Please,” he rolled his eyes, “Unfortunately, I have the displeasure of knowing both of you, so forgive me for not buying it.”

In the moment it took for them to respond, Draco turned back to the bed of books, “What do you even need all of these books for anyways?”

Hermione’s mind scrabbled for a lie. Anything that would explain this all away.

“Harry is helping me find a way to remove my magic.” She said it all in a single breath. It was the quickest thing she could think of.

Draco stilled. He straightened his back and turned around to the desperate couple. His eyes were wide with horror and disbelief.

“What?” he asked, honestly shocked at what he had just heard. Harry nodded his head next to Hermione fervently.

“I don’t want my magic.” Hermione had made the lie, now there was backing out of it, she had to double down.

“You want to be a Muggle? That’s worse than being a Mudblood!” anger raised in his voice. Hermione had faced worse than an angry Draco Malfoy. She responded calmly, “To you.”

“To anyone with a braincell. Which is clearly lacking among this group.” He began to yell properly, now referring to Harry and Hermione.

“I don’t want this. I never wanted this," Hermione's voice didn't meet Draco's volume, but it cut with a cool edge."I want my nice, upper-middle class, suburban, normal life,” she was surprised how easy the lie came. She had thought about these things, of course, but she never voiced her thoughts about the life that could have been. She was born with all the privileges in the world, and at age 11 she was struck down. She went from being able to do anything, to being told she was the scum of the earth and should live to serve her betters. It wasn’t fair. So, yes, she had thought about the idea of giving up her magic. She could live a quiet, normal life, only having to worry about wizards if she happened to run into one on the street.

Draco studied her before his eyes snapped to Harry. Harry stilled under the stunning gaze. "And helping her with this-this-this... why would you help her with this?"

Harry lifted his chin, "I believe its the best thing for her," he said in the voice of the Heir. He would not be questioned any further on this. 

Draco took a step back. He looked at her, through her, beyond. A flurry of emotion saturated his face in an instant. Then he settled and saw Hermione with such passionate sorrow on his face. 

"You don't want this." Hermione was struck with the feeling that he was asking about something so personal between them as if only they shared the gift of magic. 

"No." Hermione forced out.

Draco ran a pallid hand down his face.

“What do you plan to do if it works?”

“That parts the easy part. Oblivate myself and run off with all the jewels I’ve earned” The lie once again came so easily to her that it nearly astonishes her, but she supposes that it is a half-truth.

Draco takes a longer moment to digest this information. Even this lie, which is much milder than the trut,h is difficult to wrap one’s head around. Hermione is essentially telling Draco that she wants to burn that part inside of her that makes him feel so superior. “Fine.” Draco swallowed, brushing back a strand of hair that had come loose. Hermione is a bit stunned, she would have never expected him to be supportive of this. She thought he might try and put a stop to it.

“What are you going to do about the books?” he moves the conversation along.

They told him the plan, and luckily, he could remember the spell for the enlargement charm. Harry carried the books up to his apartment, saying he knew exactly where to hide them. Draco and Hermione went back to class together, saying no more between each other. Draco was right, Professor Avery doesn’t care what the purebloods do. Hermione felt a pang of guilt for the lie, but she couldn’t take it back.  

Chapter Text

Draco groaned a deep, pleasured moan. Hermione was over him, wearing his favourite lingerie set, a green and silver silk lace corset with high green garter tights and those fucking gold anklets that made him half hard whenever he caught a glance of them. She was gently waking him up with a blowjob. Softly lapping up his long, eager member in her mouth, her curls thrown to one side out of the way. She caressed and fondled his balls in her hand to the easy rhythm of her head. He felt like a fucking king. 

Slowly, he opened his eyes, groggy from sleep. That pool of pleasure was still building inside him. In the moments it took him to wake up, he realised it wasn’t a dream. Hermione really was there patiently sucking him off. What a wonderful way to wake up. Draco reached down his hands to touch her soft chestnut curls. Hermione looked up at him, realising he had awoken. She looked up at him from the top of her eyes kindly. 

Her tits bobbed up and down in time with her movements, softly smooshing up and down against Draco. Merlin, she had such wonderful tits. Hermione increased speed. Picking up vigour as she went. Until Draco came quickly in her mouth. Hermione took a moment to swallow it all up before climbing on top of Draco and cuddling in close. 

It had been a while since Hermione had woken him up like that. Last May, in the lead-up to their exams, Hermione had woken him up like that every morning. She basically lived in his room. He was fairly sure that she was just doing it to steal textbooks and have a quiet study space for the exams. He didn’t care, he was getting his cock sucked whenever he liked. But there was a reason that they hadn’t been together in a while, a reason his sleep addled brain took a moment to piece together. 

Suddenly, Draco threw Hermione off the bed.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked with a fright. Draco looked over the bed to where Hermione had landed on the floor. He didn't mean to throw her down. He just got such a shock. 
Hermione groaned from the sudden impact of the floor. It wasn’t bad, but she did hit her back. Then she looked at Draco with that fury in her eyes that made him go a bit hard again. 
“What does it look like I was doing? Irish Dancing,” she snapped. Hermione may have been quiet, but when you got her angry, she just couldn't help herself. 
“We can’t do this stuff when you’re with Harry,” Draco said rushdly. 
Hermione shook her head in disbelief. “I thought we went over this. I’m not actually with Harry.”
Hermione crawled back onto the bed and sat upright in child’s pose next to Draco. Draco was upset. This was not how Hermione wanted this to go. All she wanted was to get Draco’s assurances that he wasn’t going to tell anyone their false plan and perhaps to find out why he was behaving so oddly these past few weeks by sitting next to her in class. It was just best to have Draco on side, and Hermione only had so many tools in her arsenal. Fortunately, sex and young men was like a bazooka in warfare. You never knew quite where you were going to hit but you were going to hit something. So Hermione had decided that morning blowjob in his favourite outfit would surely do some good. She would never have expected Draco to throw her off the bed. Perhaps Harry was the issue in this relationship. Yes, things started going wrong when Draco thought her and Harry were sleeping together. 

“Draco, are you in love with Harry?” Hermione asked bluntly, voicing her suspicions. 
Draco looked at her was absolute horror streaking his face. He blinked a couple of times. Hermione waited patiently for him to deny it. 
“NO!” Draco blurted out in indignation at the thought, “Harry’s my best friend. He’s like a brother to me!”
Hermione put her hands up in defence, “I only ask because you are so close, and when I asked him who he liked he got all shy so you were my natural guess.” It was a strong denial. But was it too strong?
Draco sighed, “You’re as bad as he is.” He put a hand over his face, “Honestly, Hermione your like two sides of the same coin. Both intelligent people without a brain cell to pass around.”
A warm bloom of pride swelled in Hermione’s chest at the idea that Draco thought she was intelligent. Draco never paid her any compliments. He never even told her she looked beautiful. 

That was when she noticed that Draco’s hand had traced downwards to play with his anklet that she put on over her green garter. Draco notices her looking and draws back. 
“So have you gotten anywhere with your scheme?”
Hermione smiled, she was hoping he would ask this question. She had planned out her answer. Overall, there is absolutely no way to remove her magic. It’s a part of her. It would be like trying to find a way to get her stomach to stop digesting food. Draco views Hermione and his magic differently. In his mind, he is a wizard, whereas she is not a witch, she is a Muggle with the ability to do magic. If Draco really wants to help, Hermione just needs to find a way to focus his mind on the task she actually needs help with. Hermione lies down, drawing long beside him but resisting the urge to wrap his legs around hers. 
“Yes actually there is this ritual but it needs a syphon of a very powerful magically object based in destruction like the sword of Gryffindor.” 
Draco hums in acknowledgement. Thinking. 
“I’ll see what I can find. Research and catalogue potential items for you to use. Obviously, some are better than others, and some will be entirely unobtainable.” Draco was lost in thought, his hands behind his head. And there was something about the idea of Draco intensely researching something that made Hermione want to jump his bones. Hermione realised that the image of Draco poring over books in the library was a complete turn on.

They lay next to each other for a while, lost in their own thoughts. 
“So I suppose this makes us partners in crime then?” Draco said absently, “Dr Frankenstein and Igor and their monster.”
“Oh, piss off,” Hermione grabbed the pillow she was lying on a whacked him across the face with it. She knew exactly what he meant, In his head he was the genius mad scientist Dr Frankenstein. Harry was his trust, half-wit, compliant assistant and Hermione was that the monster.Draco laughed in a way Hermione never got to see Draco laugh. It wasn’t mean it was carefree. 
“Come on, you’d make a great reanimated corpse.”
“I’m leaving now,” Hermione got up laughing. Leaving before Draco could say anything worse and because it was coming up to breakfast. 

As Hermione crept out of Draco’s room, she turned to check up the stairs only to see Pansy standing there. Hermione stood for a moment in her beautiful underwear in shock. Pansy appeared equally startled. Then Pansy locked her mouth with a key and went back upstairs.

Heavy, black boots strode confidently up to the front of the Dark Arts classroom. Above them the figure was draped in a beautiful, handmade, designer robe. It was black with a leather accent around the cuffs. If there was a word for sexy Sirius Black was it. Beyond that Sirius Black was a legend. Heir to the House of Black, Master Cursebreaker at Gringotts, Head Chancery and genius inventor. 

Hermione was in awe. She also wondered how he got the job as there Dark Arts teacher but she wasn’t going to dispute it. 

Beside her Draco couldn’t stop smiling and when Hermione looked over at Harry she noticed that even he was struggling to stifle a grin. Of course, Harry and Draco would know Sirius Black. Hermione was fairly sure Draco was his second-cousin. Professor Black whipped around and leaned casually against the desk.

“Welcome class,” Professor Black boomed with charismatic air, “or should you be welcoming me this late into the school year. My name is Sirius Black. I will not respond to the name Professor Black and there are plenty other Blacks so please call me Sirius if you want to get my attention.” Sirius clapped his hands signalling the beginning of his lesson. 
“Now, your last teacher was pink bowed toad so I’m told.” The class giggled. “Quite an unusual animagus form but I am no person to judge.” Hermione was getting excited about this lesson.

“Today, I was thinking, since it’s my first day why don’t we learn about my favourite topic, I don’t believe you have covered blood curses this year.” The class shook there heads. 
“Excellent. Can anyone tell me what a blood curse is?” Sirius had this infectious energy about him. 
“Come on now Harry give it a go?” Harry kept his face plain an neutral but Hermione knew on the inside he was dieing of embarrassment. Hermione mused when did she learn to read Harry so well. 
“It’s” Harry coughed hesitantly, “It’s a curse that is place on a person’s blood and because of that it effects the entire family tree. Sometimes blood curses can be so potent that it causes the death of a family. Other times the curse can survive for years with the family just dismissing it as mere bad luck.”
“Fantastic, Harry.” Sirius beamed. “Now class what that means is that if anyone had cast a blood curse on my great great grandfather half the room would be dead.” Sirius laughed, it was a barking mad laugh. 
“Now blood curses are a tricky thing to get right. Typically, they involve a combination of a charm, a basic potion and rune. So I wouldn’t go casting them in a dual if I were you. No, a blood curse takes time.” Sirius then launched in to an enthralling explanation about types of blood curses and there effects. He did it all verbatim not having to refer to the book once. This was an complete 180 from Umbridge who almost exclusively read for the textbook. Hermione hadn’t realised how crap a teacher Umbridge was until Sirius. 
When class ended Hermione noticed Draco and Harry hang back to talk to Sirius alone.

“Stay to talk to Sirius with us.” Draco whispered to Hermione as she was packing up her books at the end of class. Harry, Draco on Hermione hung back to talk to Sirius alone. Once they were by themselves Draco and Hermione made their way to the top of the classroom, Hermione trailing slightly behind following Draco. 
“Padfoot.” Harry smiled and hugged Sirius affectionately.
“Prongslet.” Sirius returned with equally open and happy arms. “How have you been lad?” Harry ducked his head and pulled a hand through his hair. “You know” he shrugged, “overworked.”
“It’s not you who’s overworking him I hope.” Sirius said looking straight at Hermione. It took a moment for Sirius to realise he was speaking about her. She pointed her finger to herself for clarification. 
“Pads, no,” Harry blushed, “Me and Hermione aren’t actually friends like that.”
“Oh, well from what I here and from what you told Voldemort its exactly like that. Is this a sort of ride share situation?” Sirius asked dragging Draco into the conversation. 
“No! Uncle Siri. And if another person accuses me of having sex with Harry today I’m going to loose it.” Hermione was mortified. 
“Who said we were having sex?” Harry asked. 
“Who hasn’t said you’re having sex? I swear to god boys, Moony and I have 50 galleons on whether or not you’re doing it. No offence, Hermione, of course, you are a fantastic beard. You managed to convince the Dark Lord after all.”
“No-“we’re not”- absolutely not,” the boys started sputtering their objections. Sirius smiled. It was clear he took great pleasure in winding the two boys up. 
“Ok, ok, ok, you’re still having your gay awakening I get it. Ahh,” Sirius sighed, “I remember when your Uncle Moony and I were sneaking around Hogwarts, kissing and more in any corner we could find. Those were the days then Peter Pettigrew had to go and ruin it all by running his mouth to the whole school.”
Hermione knew the name Peter Pettigrew but she couldn’t remember quite where. He must have fought in the War if he went to school with Sirius and was a somewhat familiar name. 

Sirius gave a smothered disgruntled grunt, he pulled up the sleeve to his leather jacket to reveal his Dark Mark. Sirius growled. “Ok boys I have to go. I have the great pleasure of getting reacquainted with Snivillius so unfortunately I’ll have to cut this short. It was lovely to meet you Hermione.”
Sirius left. They others went to class.

Hermione was researching on her bed that night, close to curfew. She was reading one of the books she had brought back down from Harry’s apartment, “The World and Magical Artefacts” when she heard a knock at the door. Quickly, she stuffed her book under her bed.
“Come in,” she called. 
“Hey,” it was Pansy, “I just want to talk to you after what I saw this morning.” Pansy came over and perched on Hermione’s bed.
“Yeah.”
“Yeah so, well, basically, you know how were friends right?” Pansy blackmailed her innocently. 
“Right.”
“Well I was wondering if you could maybe convince Harry to go to Hogsmead with me this weekend, you know since him and you are so close.”
“I don’t know, Harry sort of does what he wants you know?”
“And I totally appricate that, I would just hate for him to find out that you were still sleeping with Draco on the side. Some men might take offence to that but of course I don’t know you and Harry’s relationship just like how Harry wouldn’t understand our relationship.
It was a threat. Kindly made. But a threat none the less. Get me a date with the Heir or I’ll tell him you’re shagging his best mate. Obviously, Harry wouldn’t care. But Hermione needs Pansy to think he would care.
“Of course, I’ll get it done.”
“Oh thank you Hermione.” Pansy hugged her. “You know out of all the Mudbloods I’ve ever met you are by far the most helpful.” Pansy jumped off the bed, conscious clear and practically skipped out of the room.

Chapter Text

“You foulsome, loathsome, little coakraoch!” Hermione screamed at Malfoy outside the Great Hall after dinner. Before – BANG! – She punched him in the face. The whole crowd let out an audible gasp as the blow was landed. People stopped to see what happened and gathered around. Hermione hadn't knocked Draco down, but he held his face and stared at her in disbelief. Hermione let her fury rage. 
“Miss Granger!” McGonagall yelled, “My office now.” Hermione glared at Draco for another moment before she began to follow the furious headmistress, “You too, Mr Malfoy, I can’t imagine you are entirely innocent in this buffoonery.” 
Grumpily, Draco trodded along after them, continuing to hold his probably broken nose. 

Draco had only just managed to close the door to the Transfiguration classroom before McGonagall rounded on them. 
“Now would either of you care to explain what I just witnessed out there?”
“Sorry, Headmistress,” Hermione hung her head, ashamed that she had angered McGonagall.
“What happened!"Draco's free arm flailed dramatically, "What happened is this dirty mudblood just came out of nowhere and punched me in the face. What kind of discipline are you putting on these creatures? The fact that they are even in the school is an embarrassment. Just wait until my father hears about this.” Draco said, but it came out all nasally and not as nasty as he would have liked because she definitely broke his nose.
“Well, Mr Malfoy from what I gather you have benefited tremendously from Miss Granger’s education at this school. Perhaps you would also like to inform your father of some of those activities?” McGonagall raised a terrifying eyebrow in question. “Now, Miss Granger would you please explain what on earth could have possessed you to hit another student.”
Hermione looked away, tears welling up in her eyes with the embarrassment of being reprimanded by McGonagall, her favourite teacher. McGonagall pursed her lips and waited for a response. She was giving Hermione plenty of time to answer. 
“Very well then, detention Miss Granger for the next three weeks.”
“What!?” Draco screeched his nasal objection. “You can’t just give her detention for this. Turn her in to a cat and make her Filch’s pet for a week, make her water the Whomping Willow, make her assist the oaf of a caretaker in finding the centaurs that you lost.”
McGonagall put up her hand to stop Malfoy. 
“I can see Mr Malfoy’s point. You can assist Hagrid for the next three weeks as part of your detention. Unless you would like to tell me what has transpired between the two of you.”
Hermione shyly shook her head. 
“Very well.”
Hermione tried to hide her smile behind her hair as she left the classroom. 

Really, there had been no reason for Hermione to punch Draco in the face. He had volunteered his face to be punched. The three of them had had a secret meeting last night in the Shack. Hermione had come to them with her findings. There were only two objects that fit the bill for destroying Horcruxes (or her magic, for the sake of Draco). The Sword of Gryffindor and the Elder wand. 

The Sword of Gryffindor was out. Apparently, before Harry started school, the Dark Lord, Harry and McGonagall had a private sorting in McGonagall’s office for Harry. And when Harry the Sorting Hat placed him into Gryffindor, the Dark Lord flew into a rage and burned the Sorting Hat. It was all kept very hush, and no one ever questioned it. The system was changed, and first years are now sorted based on which house their parents were in. You can only pick a house that one of your parents were in. Since the Renewal Mudbloods have never been a part of the house system, but with the new system just added to the reasons for their exclusion. Houses determine where you sit, who you play for and where your House points go, but it no longer determines where you live. After the Renewal, it was decided it was better to maintain societal structure than divisional House unity. 

Either way, neither Harry, Draco, nor Hermione were Gryffindors, so it didn’t seem possible that the Sword would reveal itself to any of them anyways.

And the Elder Wand was the Dark Lord’s wand, so there was no way in hell they were getting that.

Draco suggested they look at nature. Both Basilisk fangs and Unicorn horns had great magical properties, and both were sharp enough to act as knives. They had no idea where they could find a Basilisk, but Harry told them there were unicorns in the Dark Lord’s forest. They were just extremely difficult to find. 

Hermione knew that some mudbloods got sent with Hagrid for detention sometimes, thus their great plan was formed. Hermione would purposefully get in trouble, no matter how reluctantly that was. It would have to be something against Draco. Since any insult to Harry could see her immediately executed. So it was decided that Hermione would punch Draco in the face in front of everyone. That was Hermione’s favourite part of the plan. 

This is how Hermione found herself trailing after Hagrid with Fang in between, into the Forbidden Forest late that night. Hermione had decided not to tell Hagrid the plan. He seemed to care for the animals so much, and as Scammander said in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, “A unicorn without a horn is a dead unicorn.” So Hermione wasn’t sure Hagrid would be in favour of their plan, and she didn’t want him sending her away. 

The night was cold since the Spring had yet to heat up. But it was clear, and a full moon hung high in the sky. Hermione was wrapped up in a heavy wool cloak, and she had taken hiking boots and trousers from the lost and found. She looked in the mirror before she left and felt she looked shabby yet warm. 

The Dark Lord’s Forest was thick and covered in knotty roots that would be easy to trip on. The borrowed hiking boots didn’t fit the best, so Hermione feared that she would trip and fall on one of the roots. Hagrid led the way, lamp in hand. Hagrid had given her a strict warning to stay close by while they were in the forest. He was going out under the pretence of looking for the centaurs.

“Tell me ‘ermione why ye took a crack at Malfoy again.” Hagrid asked. He hadn’t asked about why she found herself out here yet. 
“Oh, there was no reason. Harry and I just thought that if I had detention with you for a while late at night no one would ask questions about me being out late at night.” Hermione supplied simply. She also wasn’t going to tell Hagrid about her lie to Draco because secrets were best kept close. If Harry wanted to tell him, he could. There was no point burdening Hagrid with more knowledge.

They walked along in silence for a while. The deeper they trudged, the thicker the canopy became until the moonlight was unable to penetrate down to the forest floor. The trees were black with night and appeared like monsters reaching out to grab you as you passed. Hermione’s face got cold after a while. 
“Hagrid?” Hermione called quietly; her voice carried easily across the crisp silence. Subconsciously, Hermione spoke quietly as if her voice could break the air. 
“Yes, Hermione.” Hagrid gruffed back. The idea struck Hermione that Hagrid would make a great Father Christmas if she knew what that was. But now was not the time to discuss holiday make-believe. 
“Are their unicorns in this forest.”
“Say so. Although never seen one me self, mind you, very shy creatures unicorns. ‘Course they’d be scared off by the light.” Hagrid indicated to the lamp in his hand. 
“Oh, do you mind if I go off on my own for a bit so I just always wanted to see a unicorn and it’s not like we are actually looking for the centaur.”
Hagrid hesitated. “I don’t know Hermione. It’ll be hard enough to see by your self and there are dangerous creatures out in this forest late at night. Especially with a full moon out.”
“Oh please, I promise I’ll be careful. I’ll only be gone five minutes.”
“Oh alright. But take Fang with you. He’ll show you the way back.” 
Hermione beamed, although she doubted Hagrid saw with the darkness. Hermione was beginning to really warm up to Hagrid. Maybe that story about him killing a Mudblood wasn’t true after all. 

Hermione took Fang and went off in the other direction. Hermione cast a variation of the Lumos charm. “Luna Lumos”, she cast with her open palm. A light that replicated moonlight shone in a floating ball in her hand. If Hagrid was right that his lamp light would frighten off any unicorn, then she hoped that maybe a light that shone like moonlight wouldn’t. She still needed to see in the dangerous forest after all. There was a potion that would make it possible for one to see in the dark. She should get Harry or Draco to brew her it to take before she went out tomorrow night, she thought.

Hermione wasn’t sure how helpful Fang would be if she did encounter a dangerous animal out here. She didn’t want to say anything to Hagrid, but she didn’t know why they didn’t take Fluffy. Surely, a giant three-headed dog would have been a much better guard dog than an elderly hound. Fluffy was a much younger dog, so perhaps he would have been more of a hindrance than a help in the Forest, with chasing after things.

Out of the silence, Hermione heard a bark. Instinctivel,y she looked down at Fang. Although sound seemed to come from too far away for it to be Fang. Fang equally seemed to be on high alert after the noise. Hermione waited another moment, and when she didn’t hear it again, decided to move on. Fang would not move. Instead, he started whining at Hermione. Hermione paused. Hermione trusted the dogs senses. Perhaps it was time she turned back. 

Then, up on the ridge in front of Hermione, she sawa  large black dog. For a moment, she thought it was a wolf. The dog began to bark at her aggressively. Snarling its teeth. It was being territorial. Hermione began backing away. Suddenly, the dog leapt towards her. Hermione scrambled back, managing to stay on her feet. Fang barked and challenged the dog. Growling. This gave Hermione enough time to turn and run. Fang ran after her. Unfortunately, so did the dog. 

Hermione ran and ran. Her muscles burned. Even with the light, it was still difficult to see. She hadn’t time to cast a stronger spell. Fang fended off the dog as best he could. Until, wham! Hermione tripped on a root in her ill-fitting hiking boots. She fell in a heap on the ground. She could hear the dogs barking until she couldn’t. Hermione looked down over her shoulder from the ground. Her face turned against the old, crakling brown leaves that dusted the forest floor.

Speared in a column of moonlight, she saw him. A werewolf. Eight foot tall, hunched over, grey, with snarling, sharp teeth and claws like razor blades. He was in no doubt a monster. A monster that was coming right towards Hermione. An encounter witha  werewolf was almost always fatal. Hermione got up and ran. She sprinted for her life. Her bones ached. Her muscles screamed. She could taste blood in the back of her throat. And she could still hear the werewolf catching up. It paws padded quickly. Fatser than Hermione could ever run.

Quickly, it got her by the leg. One of its claws caught her by the shin and pierced in. It used that leverage to drag her back towards him. Hermione screamed and scrambled against the motion. She screamed hoping anyone would come. The black dog leapt over Hermione’s body and jumped face-first onto the beast. This caused enough of a distraction for the werewolf to release his hold on Hermione. Hermione got up and ran. But she was badly injured. Even with adrenaline, her body was not cooperating. She dragged her leg limply behind her as she hobbled through the dense woods. The black dog and Fang tried to hold off the werewolf as best they could, but he was still making ground towards Hermione. 

Hermione thought that the canopy was lightening, maybe she was almost out of the Forest. If she could just keep going.

Splice. The monster grabbed Hermione around her neck and pinned her to the trunk of a thick deciduous tree. The other two dogs bit and pulled at the wolf's legs. He was unbothered by their presence and held Hermione tighly. His eyes locked with Hermione’s. Hermione kiked desperatly out and around in the hopes of connecting with something. Her hand tried to pry the animals grip off her. Her hair fell as she violently tried to escape the beasts clutches.The beast drew back, prepared to bite. Catch her around the neck and snap it for a quick dinner. His teeth were sharp and poweful. In a final desperate attempt at escape, Hermione stopped trying to pry the claw off her throat. She placed both palms flat against the trunk of the tree. 

“BOMBARDA!” she screamed.
The trunk exploded around them. The creature and the animals went flying back. Hermione was tossed up against the next nearest branch. Her back hit it at speed – hard. Hermione fell to the floor. The dogs were thrown back by the force. Then the tall, heavy truck that had just been destroyed from the bottom began to fall. It collapsed in a thunderous roar. The tree fell right where Hermione last saw the werewolf land from the explosion. 

It took a moment for Hermione to stir. But she still had a lot of adrenaline going through her, so she got up and hobbled out of the forest. She collapsed about 10ft outside the tree line. The last thing she remembered was Fang running up to her and licking her face. 

Chapter Text

Hermione woke up in a room of white. White linen gently draped the wall and covered her tightly in her soft, warm bed. The sun cascaded in elegantly through the window. It was all so beautiful. Hermione closed her eyes again, prepared to stay where she was forever. The dream smelled of lemons and disinfectant. A bouquet of flowers sat on her bedside table. A bouquet of Royal Azaleas. Purple and delicate as they always were. 

Hermione was happy in this heaven. Especially when her head felt so good. She's a bit dizzy but in a good way. It felt like she was flying. Hermione loved flying. 
“Oh, good, you're awake.” Madame Pompfry announced as she pushed back the white linen curtain around her bed. This forced Hermione to come to the uncomfortable realisation that she was, in fact, not in some beautiful utopia but instead in the Hospital wing. Hermione groaned. The light feeling inside her head was probably the drugs. Hermione groaned. And standing at the foot of her bed were McGonagall and Sirius. Hermione groaned. 

“Oh Miss Granger we’re glad to see you alive,” McGonagall’s Highland lilt held affection in the statement. “You gave Hagrid quite a fright when he found you on the Great Lawn. You we’re lucky he found you when he did or else I fear to worse might have happened. Now, you’ve been out for a couple of days but all your teachers have agreed to excuse your school work and you’ll be glad to know you’ve been excused from the rest of detention. I’m sure your brush with death has taught you enough. So rest up I hope to see you back in my class in a few days.” 
McGonagall smiled, and Hermione smiled back. 
She turned to leave, but before she did, she stopped, “Oh and Miss Granger, a very impressive use of Bombard, and wandless, mind you.” Hermione’s heart soared. She was feeling better already.

McGonagall casts Sirius a curious look before leaving. Hermione thinks that McGonagall must have taught Sirius in school. She wonders what the old Headmistress thinks of him now that he has become someone great. Did she see it in him when he was at school? Does she see anything in her?

Sirius comes to sit by the side of the bed, down by Hermione’s feet. He pats her foot over the covers and waits for a moment to speak. 
“I’ll have to agree with Minnie on this one, you had quite a run in.” Sirius pauses as if trying to find how best to phrase the next thing he’s going to say. “My suggestion to you is that we keep what we saw in the forest quiet. There are certain interests at play and I’ve heard that you are a reasonable person. You see the world for what it is and play the game with brutal precision. I’ll have to commend you for that.” Pause. “Now, I know you have found so relief with Harry but I can off you more –“
“That’s really sweet Professor Black but I don’t really do older men.”
Sirius looks disturbed, “Merlin, no, nothing like that. What I’m saying is that if you can keep this quiet it might avoid an unpleasant meeting with an executioner. You understand? Of course, you do. I believe there are a lot of out secrets you’re keeping to yourself.”
Perhaps it was the drugs, but Hermione was really struggling to follow what Sirius was saying. She gathered that if she told anyone about the werewolf, she would be killed. That was ok. It was not the first time she had been given that dilemma. In actual fact, she faced that option almost every night since she met Krum.

Hermione glanced at the bouquet again. Krum must have sent them. He always sent her purple Azeala’s. A little bit of Hermione might always love Krum.

“Do you love them?” Hermione asked absentmindedly, forgetting to answer the question and referencing her flowers. He held out her hand and touched one of the soft petals. 
“I love him so much. I gave up my freedom to have him.” Sirius whispered mournfully. 
Hermione thought that was an odd response to the question. Sirius patted her foot one more time and left.  

It was hours later when Hermione was reawoken. Her body was still recovering, and Madame Pompfry said it would be another few days before she would even think about letting her out. 
“Psst, Hermione, psst,” something shook Hermione. She knew the drugs were strong, but she didn’t think they were this strong. She couldn’t see anything. The white room was blue and grey now at night. There was enough light for Hermione to see the nothing that was shaking her awake. That is until. Harry shrugged off his Invisibility Cloak. 
“Harry,” Hermione said excitedly, trying to push herself up into a sitting position but finding it slightly difficult given her current weakness. “What are you doing here?” she whispered. 
“We came to see you,” Harry beamed his warming smile.
“We? Harry do you have another Invisibility Cloak?”
“What no.” Harry looked around to find no one there. But then, in the next moment, Draco strolled casually in. Hand in pocket. “Draco, I said to get under the cloak.” Harry chastised as Draco sauntered up to Hermione’s bedside and stood up closer to her head than Harry.
“And stand behind your atomic arse? I don’t think so. I just waited around the corner for Pmpfry to go on her fag break before slipping in the door.” Harry gave a fake look of annoyance at Draco’s remarkably simpler plan. “How are you?” Draco asked, pushing a strand of Hermione’s hair off her face. 
“Yes, we heard you got attacked by a monster. What was it? Did you see?” Harry asked, taking the visitor's chair. 
Hermione shook her head, “It was too dark.”
Harry slumped in his chair. He seemed to get lost in his thoughts. Draco continued to stare down at Hermione. 
“Are you ok?” Draco said quieter than their whispers. Hermione nodded.

“Well you can’t go out into the forest alone again anyways.” Harry decided for them. “Maybe Draco and I can some with you the next time. One of us will hide under the cloak or something. And maybe –“
“She’s not going out again full stop,” Draco growled, “This was a foolish endeavour to begin with and this is the end of it.”
Harry furrowed his eyebrows in a way that made Hermione wonder why he ever acted like the Heir. If he just acted like himself, everyone would still do what he said, if only to prevent that beautiful face from ever looking upset. Harry, when he looked put out felt wrong in every way. 
“Hermione do you still want to do this?” 
Did she ever want to do this? She thought. She only came along to stop Harry from having her killed for knowing too much. But now she had almost been trampled by centaurs, crushed by ten thousand things, lied to Draco, and nearly gotten eaten by a werewolf. Logically, she should want to run. Shut the door on this danger. Illogically, she has never felt more alive and herself at the same time. She finally has a friend in Harry, and they are doing something meaningful. She is more than a living sex doll to him. 
“Yes, we have to keep going.”
“Draco?” Harry asked.
Draco rolled his eyes, “I suppose, I look like a coward is the girl who almost died is saying yes and chicken out now.”
“Yes. You. Would.” Harry smiled. 

“So,” Harry clapped his hands, “What’s the plan guys?”
“Well, unfortunately, McGonagall has removed my detention so I can’t go down to the forest anymore.”
“Perhaps we’ll plot while you rest. Come on Harry, Pompfry will be back any minuet.” Draco caught Harry by the scruff of the collar and dragged him out of there suddenly before Harry could object. Harry waved goodbye over his shoulder as Draco stomped out. 

Hermione felt a little left out at the thought that they might plot without her, but she quickly fell back to sleep. 

Hermione dreamt of fantastic things. Hermione dreamt of the centaurs telling her to find the unicorns. But every time they spoke, she couldn’t hear them. 

The next morning, Hermione awoke to a bouquet larger than the Azeala’s, to a bouquet of white Lilies and red Roses. They were beautiful and in full bloom. The sender also left her Muggle chocolate and a book, Mary Shelly’s ‘Frankenstein’. She would have never known who sent them, but the book gave it away. Hermione’s heart soared full of affection. But she wished Harry or Draco would come again. 

Hermione was let out of the Hospital wing three days later, and one of the first things she did was plod down to see Hagrid. She thanked him for saving her life. Hagrid seemed a bit all over the place when she called. He said he felt so sorry for leaving her out there on her own. Hermione felt bad for not having even considered Hagrid’s feelings in all this. She had wanted to see him, but really the purpose of her visit was to find out if the centaurs were still anywhere close by. Her dream had stuck with her.  Unfortunately, Hagrid told her that the centaurs were long gone and that she wouldn’t be seeing them anytime soon. They really would have to think of a different plan. 

Chapter Text

Ch15 – Make love
Hermione worried that she would never find love. 

Realistically, she feared she had broken herself. Years of refining down her softer parts into a tradable commodity surely had an effect. Hermione has distilled down her sexual qualities into a commodity. She had studied how to be attractive. She knew what to make men go hard at the sight of her. She knew even better not to wear her best outfits all the time to allow for her moment to make an impact when she needed it. 

Hermione thought about this as she lay on Pansy’s bed waiting for her to get changed. Hermione was helping Pansy pick an outfit for her date with Harry in the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmead the next day. Harry was very understanding of the situation when Hermione had to explain why he had to ask Pansy out on a date. It was clear he didn’t want to, but when Hermione explained that she had been caught coming out of Draco’s room in slutty lingerie, he suddenly found the whole situation hilarious, and couldn’t stop grinning like a Cheshire cat. So Harry asked Pansy out discreetly after breakfast on Friday morning. He told her that he wanted to keep it quiet in case it put a target on her back. 

So here Hermione was looking at the same outfit she had seen three times already, but with different shoes. It was a brown swade mini dress with brown tights, a black jacket with fur trim and dark brown boots. Pansy's closet was ginormous and still overflowing. However, Hermione did have to admit that although she had studied fashion to an extent, and knew how to put an outfit together, she never would have Pansy’s eye for fashion. Pansy could bring pieces together in the most creative ways. And Hermione had learned over the years that if Pansy didn’t like something, she would tear it up and re-sow it to her liking. 

Pansy had also always been very generous with gifting Hermione clothes throughout the years. Genuinely, nice things that Hermione liked to wear. Of course, Pansy loved having a living doll, but it was always better than the underwear that Hermione commonly received. 

Hermione wasn’t even entirely sure why she was here. Every outfit Pansy had come out in had been beautiful and cool. Really, they were all suitable. Hermione got the sense that she was just there to be a sort of yes man. Usually, she wouldn’t have minded, but the issue with finding a thing to destroy the horcruxes had been weighing heavily on her mind since she left the Hospital wing. She felt like she had lost a lot of time and was anxious to make some progress. There was also the fact that Hermione felt like the answer was right under her nose the entire time. She just couldn’t see it. 

“Ok I think this is it.” Pansy said definitively, twirling around. She was so excited to go on this date. Hermione felt a little bad that she knew that Harry had no interest in Pansy. Then again, Pansy had orchestrated this whole affair, so she had to know that Harry didn’t actually want her. Hermione was vaguely unsure of what Pansy thought was going to happen on this date. Did she think that they’d go out for a drink, hit it off and live happily ever after? Harry and Pansy already know each other. If Harry had wanted to he would. Hermione just couldn’t understand what Pansy thought was going to happen here. And she wasn’t going to push it. If a girl wants to be delusional, it was not Hermione’s place to bring her down from that delusion. 

Scientifically, she knew that she would never be able to view sex and intimacy the same way again.
 After Hermione left Pansy, she padded over quietly down the tower to Draco’s room. He had recovered some of her stolen books and was keeping them in his room. Due to the fact that Hermione was already as comfortable as one could be in the space, he had agreed to let her research out of there. Hermione entered quietly. She was wearing an oversized Quidditch jumper that she stole off Puncey over a short school skirt. Even though it was quite covered up, Hermione considered herself to look very sexy in the outfit. 

She went over and sat down cross-legged by the coffee table and summoned her latest book over to her. Since many of the horcruxes were relics, Hermione thought that maybe there were some lesser-known relics that they could use. Hermione heard the shower going.

In truth, the book was not that interesting, so Hermione’s mind wandered back to her future. Hermione had an image of baking bread in a sunlit kitchen when her husband comes up behind her and kissed her on the neck, and holds her from behind. She laughs and stretches back into him. He laughs into her skin. It isn’t sex. It’s love and companionship.

How could she trust herself to find something authentic in the future and not just another man to use? She was being silly. She didn’t even really believe in love. What she wanted was a trustworthy partner who she enjoyed spending time with. Basically, she wanted a mudblood for herself. Maybe that’s why Draco had never really gotten bored of her. 

But the thing between Hermione and Draco was not love; it was possession. Possession that Hermione had manufactured. 

She knew why Draco was attracted to her. She had made herself attractive to him. She had put on a show for him. That wasn’t the real her. The real her was messy and bossy and proud. She wasn’t this shy, compliant thing he knew her as. Those feelings weren’t real. Draco couldn’t love the real her in comparison to the ideal woman she had created for him. 

Draco came out of the shower. The towel around his waist hung low. Just like Hermione in her sweatshirt, sometimes what you can’t see makes it so much more desirable. Hermione had always found Draco attractive. Now that he was fully matured, he looked like a Greek god. Except we all know how it goes for mortals who sleep with gods. 

Draco threw on a pair of blue and white pin-striped pyjamas bottoms. He tousled his hair with the towel and came over to Hermione by the coffee table. He looked over her shoulder to see what she was reading. 

“I was thinking we should go to Hogsmead together tomorrow. Go to the Three Broomsticks.” Draco said an outrageous statement as casually as one would remark on the weather. 
“What do you mean?” Hermione asked, trying to emulate Draco’s casual tone. He surely wasn’t going to book a room in the Three Broomsticks for tomorrow. The issue was not them getting caught having sex. The issue was that Hermione now had to freedom to deny Draco sex. And no, she had not told him that they would not be intimate any further. And yes, she had given a very satisfying blow job in the interim, but she still didn’t think he’d try to bring her to the Three Broomsticks. 
“You’d need to book a room ahead of time.” She wanted to fob him off politely. Draco was very good at research after all.
“No. As in like a sit down eat food and have a drink.” Was Draco Malfoy on drugs?
“Why?” Hermione was genuinely confused. 
“Because I figure if I’m spending all this time trying to figure out how to get rid of your magic I should at figure out you.”
“I’d need to ask Harry.”
“For permission.”
Hermione hated that. Like, really, really hated that.
“What about Pansy?”
“What about Pansy?”
“Wouldn’t she be in upset with you taking me out? And her and Harry are going to be there for their date.”
“Yes Pansy and Harry are going for their date. It has nothing to do with us.”

Hermione felt it was not the time to point out that Draco was literally betrothed to Pansy. Maybe this was all about that. 
What would he do if Pansy actually did end up wrangling a proposal out of Harry? Where would that leave Draco? His parents would probably have to secure another marriage contract with another eligible pureblood. They wouldn’t be able to say anything about Draco’s relationship with her. There was no pureblood daughter who could outrank Draco to end their relationship. Still, he deserved someone nice to be happy with. Well, not someone nice. He would eviscerate someone nice. Draco deserved someone who loved him.

She wanted someone to share her life with more than she wanted someone to be in love with her.
Draco was not that person.

Chapter Text

Hermione wished that she could have Pansy help her pick out an outfit. Hermione had cycled through half her closet. She couldn’t find anything to wear. For once, she didn’t actually want to look sexy. Hermione wanted to look effortlessly beautiful. It was really hard finding something that was warm, cool and casual. They had agreed to meet by the Grand Staircase at 12am to head down to Hogsmeade. It was now 12:05, and Hermione was just putting on her earrings. She was rushing. She was late. Hermione was never late. She wasn’t in a position to be late. But it had just taken her so long to pick an outfit. Eventually, she settled on a black dress with a cream cable knit sweater over the top. 

Hermione bounded out the door and rushed up the stairs. She saw Draco waiting by the bottom. 
“I’m here,” she breathed, entirely out of breath from the fast climb, “Sorry I spilled something on my first outfit and had to change”, she lied. 
Draco gave her a tight smile, “Will we go?”
Hermione nodded. 

As they travelled down the road to Hogsmeade, Hermione noticed that Spring had definitely arrived.
“Draco,” Hermione began. She thought that talking my settle her nerves. This was a very odd situation, and she felt people were looking. “Do you have a dragon?”
Draco smirked and nodded. “In Gringotts. He guards the vaults.”
“Surely, that’s inhumane for the dragon and dangerous for the goblins.”
Draco shrugged, “The dragon was there first. Before the goblins took control of the bank the dragon guarded our gold in the warren below Gringotts. All of Diagon Alley is built around our vault.”
Hermione never knew that. And honestly, after she dropped Care of Magical Creatures, she wasn’t that well-versed in dragons. 
“I’ve never seen a dragon.” Hermione mentioned idly. 
“I’ll have to show you sometime,” Draco replied easily. 

When they made it down to Hogsmeade, Hermione noticed how busy the town was today. The main street was packed with students. Hermione was growing more anxious now that they were here. She followed Draco as they ducked inside to the Three Broomsticks. Perhaps it was because it was still before lunch, but the place was busy, but not packed. It was comfortable. Draco looked across the pub for a table. Hermione glanced at Rosmerita behind the bar, who looked surprised to see her, then confused. 

Hermione always knew that Rosmerta wasn’t the most comfortable with Hermione visiting up satries and doing what she did with older men, but she got the feeling that the bar lady didn’t have a choice. She was a half-blood and thus paid higher taxes. The half-blood and blood traitors pay for the purebloods' lifestyles in higher taxes. While the purebloods pay nominal fees. The thinking is that the purebloods do enough for their society when they produce heirs, so it shouldn’t be on them to also be burdened by the economy. 

Draco found them a table by the fire in the annex to the left of the pub. Draco went to get them some drinks. Hermione realised that from where she was sitting, she could see Harry in the booth across the pub on his date with Pansy. It looked to be going ok. Harry was smiling anyways while Pansy spoke with her hands. Hermione couldn’t see anymore. She didn’t think Harry had seen them come in. 

Hermione also took a moment to spot who else was here. That it when she saw Ginny Weasley. The redhead was staring directly at Harry with a blazing fire in her eyes. She was clutching her glass while her group of friends around her spoke. It was clear that she wasn’t listening to a word. 

Ginny looked like a lion ready to strike at her prey, waiting in the Savannah, thinking about the kill. When she caught eyes of Hermione’s eye. Her emotions shifted to something more considered. Hermione immediately glanced away. But Ginny had come over pint in hand. Hermione was sitting at one of the rickety wooden tables. Ginny placed her pint on the table.
“Hermione, I’d just like to say I’m sorry about what I did on the way to the Quidditch pitch. It was wrong. And I am sorry.” Ginny's inflexion was staccato as if these were lines out of a play. 
“It’s ok,” Hermione twisted her hands uncomfortably under the table. 
“It’s just,” Ginny went on, taking Draco’s seat across from Hermione, “I don’t really get it. I mean you and him. I just thought he wasn’t stupid like all the other boys. And now he’s over there with – with – Parkinson,” Ginny spit out the name as if it were a vulgar thing to say, “I just thought he was different.”
Hermione didn’t really know what to say. Of Course, Harry was different. He was exactly to guy that Ginny believed him to be. She just didn’t know how Ginny knew about the real him. 
“My lord is very kind.” Hermione noted shyly. “I was unaware of his relationship with you.” Hermione poked. 
Ginny sat up beet red. “Well – um – no – actually – um – we – don’t have a relationship.”
Hermione smiled slightly, “So I see you admire my lord from a distance.”
“No like I would know him from Quidditch and things.”
That was a thread Hermione wanted to pull. Was there something Harry was keeping from her? Of course, Harry had shown himself to be a proficient liar, but that didn’t mean Hermione wasn’t allowed to know when the opportunity presented herself.
“Ahh.” Hermione leaned back, feigning recognition. She was letting her persona slip to hopefully let Ginny feel like she had also seen Hermione’s true self. The same way she had seen the real Harry. “I was curious about who girl was.”
Ginny looked like she was trying to fold in on herself. “It wasn’t that serious. Clearly not to Harry.” Ginny ended bitterly by casting a cursory glance across her shoulder to the booth where Harry and Pansy sat happily. 
“I don’t know he wouldn’t tell me anything. But when I asked he got all shy.”

“Ginerva.” Draco interrupted, holding two pints in hand. 
Ginny looked up, surprised to see Draco. And hastily moved off the seat. Apologising as she went and heading back to her own table. Hermione was annoyed at Draco for interrupting them. She felt that she could have mined so much more information out of Ginny if she had the time. When Ginny got up to leave, Hermione noticed Harry watching them across the pub, but he quickly brought his attention back to Pansy. 

Draco sat down on the now empty chair. 
“I also ordered two dinners at the bar. I wanted to our order in before this place becomes overwhelmed at lunch.” Draco pushed the Butterbeer towards Hermione. Hermione was still lost in thought about Harry and Ginny. 
“What did she want?”
“She was just saying sorry for knocking into me the other day.”
Draco pouted in confusion. He knew there was probably more to the story, but clearly decided not to probe. 
“Right,” he pronounced, “I wouldn’t trust any of the Weasley lot if I were you. They think their better than what they are.”
Hermione raised a questioning eyebrow as in to say ‘And I can trust you lot?’. In general, it was a very hypocritical statement. 
“What?” Draco asked, not understanding the look Hermione was casting him. 
“I knew you and Ron never got on but is there something between you and Ginny that I don’t know about.”
Draco looked disgusted at the thought. “No. Her and Harry had a thing. They kept it very quiet. And she feels like she has some claim over the man. She needs to remember her place.”
Hermione looks surprised. Draco was being so hypocritical right now, and he wasn’t even seeing it. “And what about me?” Hermione asked, tilting her head to the side in a playful manner. “You and I are sitting together in the Three Broomsticks by ourselves. I’m sure there are some people who would say that I need to remember my place, going off the picture alone, not knowing that you asked me here. Perhaps Harry pursued Ginny.”
Draco took a moment to think about it until he shook his head. “He didn’t.”
“How do you know?”
“Because have you met him. The only thing Harry could bag is the snitch and the only game he can play is Quidditch.”
Hermione smiled. Draco wasn’t wrong. Hermione could never see Harry going after Ginny. Harry and Ginny could have been on the same Quidditch team if Harry hadn’t had a private sorting, Hermione thought. Hermione looked up. Shocked. That was it, Harry was a Gryffindor. He could call on the Sword of Gryffindor. 

“Oh my God!” Hermione said. 
“What?”
“I have to go.” Hermione left the pub suddenly. Draco followed. Leaving there half-finished drinks behind them. Hermione had work to do. 

Draco and Hermione had ended up researching in his room for the rest of the day. They were both thoroughly engrossed in their own work when Harry came in. Hermione looked when she heard him enter. Harry closed the door behind him and leaned his back up against it. He looked exhausted. He breathed out a heavy sigh. 
“How did go?” Hermione asked. This stirred Draco to look up and see Harry in his room for the first time. 
“It was fine.” Harry said, coming over and sitting on the armchair. “But man, that girl can talk. I think I said five words the whole date. Harry counted off his fingers. “Interesting. Right. No. Yes. Um,” he hummed at the end, which could hardly be considered as counting as a word. 
“So I won’t have to draft a new marriage contract just yet.” Draco smirked. Harry gave Draco a dreadful look. Before he changed the subject, perking up. “What are you guys working on.”
Both Hermione and Draco smirked.
“We are going to try and kill you Harry.” Hermione answered factually.

Chapter Text

Harry stood out on a floating dock in the middle of the Great Lake in his jocks. It was early on Sunday morning. The rest of the school was still fast asleep. A thick layer of fog hung in the morning air. Harry danced around the platform trying to stay warm. While Hermione and Draco sat cosy on the dock, all wrapped up with books scattered between them. 

Hermione glanced at Harry as he danced. She couldn’t understand why the Heir would not just cast a simple Heating charm while her and Draco prepared the Gillyweed. She wasn’t going to tell him, though. It was a little funny to see him like this. 
“Hermione you know, I can apologise again about telling you to go back into the forest to find more unicorns.”
“You could.”
“Would that make any difference to you throwing me into the Great Lake?”
“Nope.”
“I think she’s kind of enjoying seeing you suffer Harry.” Draco added.
“Haven’t I suffered enough?” Harry held out his hands only to immediately bring them back close to his body. Draco and Hermione shared a look.
It was a ridiculous question coming from the Heir who had every whim catered for. 

The gillyweed was ready. Hermione got up and gave it to Harry to eat. 
“Now, remember Harry the Sword of Gryffindor only shows itself to those of are ‘of noble valour’, so be brave down there and maybe it will reveal itself. Are you ready.”
“Yeah.” Harry nodded. He stretched out a bit before jumping into the black and dangerous water below. 

The issue with Harry being their bravery sacrifice is that they can only put him in so much danger. You can’t openly start attacking in the Heir. If you need to put him in a situation where he has to be brave, one also needs plausible deniability if everything does go wrong. 

If something goes wrong here, they are going to say that Harry brought them along to make sure he was safe as he went for a morning swim in the Great Lake. Of course, they tried to talk him out of it, but he just wouldn’t listen. This plan could still find Hermione killed and Draco punished, but she was hopeful that everything would be ok. 

The Great Lake was supposed to be inhabited by a giant cracken, flesh eating mermaids and ensnaring seaweed that would drag you to your death. There had been numerous documented reports of all the dangers of the Great Lake, yet from the surface, it looked so calm and serene. The fog was cold, but Hermione thought it added to the beauty of the early morning. 

The plan was that Harry would go swim around in the Great Lake until he encountered one of these monsters. He would face them. Hopefully, survive, and the Sword of Gryffindor might reveal itself in the battle. 

Hermione waited with Draco on the dock. The gillyweed would only last an hour, so they only had to get worried after that. Until then, they just had to wait and sit, listening to the lapping water. 
“I finished the book.” Hermione broke the crystal silence. 
“Oh? And what did you think.”
“Igor isn’t in Mary Shelly’s version.”
“No he came in later adaptations.”
They fell into a comfortable silence again. 

“Do you think this will work?” Draco asked again after a while.
“I don’t know. Depends what he finds down there.” Hermione answered honestly. 
“No, I mean removing your magic. Do you actually think you can do it?”
Hermione nodded. She didn’t quite trust herself to speak. 
“I bought you an apartment in London.” Draco said. Hermione let the statement hang in the air, giving him the space to elaborate in the quiet. 
“For after school. In Mayfair. I didn’t know what your plans were, obviously. You probably plan to leave England if this works.” Pause. “But I bought you a place so you would have a place to stay in the Wizarding World. 

Hermione didn’t know what to say. It would have been perfect. She would have been kept. A kept mistress. She would have what was probably a beautiful apartment in London, with gorgeous clothes and jewels and nothing more. She would be nothing more than his.

“It’s still there if you want it.” Draco looked out across the Lake, never turning to Hermione. He was saying all this stuff to the air. “But I suspect you don’t. Before this, I just thought it was exactly what you wanted.”

Hermione felt cold. She felt outside of her body. Since she was very young, Hermione had never thought about staying in the Wizarding World after Hogwarts. She had her half-baked plan about leaving for Australia. But here Draco was giving her the chance to stay. She didn’t know what to say. 

Chapter Text

Harry had emerged from the water, gasping. He had only been in the water 30 minutes. Draco and Hermione rushed over. Hermione covered him in a heated towel. And Draco quickly ran a dignostic check. He was fine but shaken. It took him a minute to readjust the breathing air. Draco and Hermione crowded around him making sure he was ok. When he had regained himself he told them that he saw the Cracken. A gigantic purple squid with long ensnaring tenticles. It had one massive eye amber eye and a sharp beak like mouth that snapped and tried to eat Harry. He fought it off using a series of spells. As Harry deflected one tenticle another would swoop down. Then as he fought that one off she would try and snap at him. Harry wasn't fast enough in the water for her. Her tenticles swooped and glided quicker than he could swim out of the way. Eventually Harry fought her off with a Stupify right to the eye. She moved back and Harry took the opportunity to swim away. But it was close and he was lucky. Yet the Sword did not reveal itself. 

They took him back up to his room to get him cleaned up and make sure he was actually ok. They stayed in Harry's apartment all day brainstorming new ideas. It was late into the evening until they finished.

Draco had vetoed her idea to push Harry off the Astronomy Tower.
“Why would he need a sword then?”

Draco had rejected locking Harry in a cage with his dragon. 
“Harry would die.”

Draco had said no to Harry going to school naked.
“That is a nightmare not an act of valour.”

“Well you come up with an idea, then!” Hermione finally gave up. Draco was shooting down all of her ideas. Hermione was much more willing to put Harry in harms way for the good of the cause than he was.
The thing was Draco had no ideas himself. It was very difficult to put the Heir in danger without putting the Heir in danger. 
“Maybe he should go unicorn hunting on a full-moon.” Hermione thought out loud finally. 
“That’s not a bad idea.” Harry encouraged from his spot on the comfy armchair in his apartment. He laid across it with his feet hanging over one side and his head resting on the other. Harry had been much more supportive of Hermione's ideas than Draco had been. Hermione sat at the end of the sofa her feet curled up underneath her, tightly. Draco was lying back on the coffee table staring up at the ceiling. This back lying against the oak top. 
“No.” Draco rejected. 
“Why not,” Harry argued for their cause.
“Because Hermione only barely survived, so, no offence, mate, but you don’t stand a chance.” 
Hermione blushed but the two boys didn’t notice. 
“Are you saying Hermione’s better at magic than me, the Heir. I should have you beheaded for that.” Harry joked. 
“Well she at least has better survival instincts than you.” Draco commented.
“I reject that. I survived a Cracken today and I’ve survived being the Dark Lord’s Heir for nearly 18 years now.”
“Survived what?” Hermione teased, “Having everything you want.”
“Hey! I literally survived the killing curse need I remind the two of you.” Harry said pointing at them both. “So I’d say I have fantastic survival instincts thank you very much.”
“You had nothing to with that. That was all your mother.” Draco pointed out. 

“What?” Hermione asked innocently from the couch. She had tried to find out as much as she could about Harry when she was in first year, to get her bearings on this new world. She had easily accepted Harry’s origins. His parents were members of the resistance against the Dark Lord during the Wizarding War. Their deaths marked the end of the War. After the Dark Lord kill Harry’s parents, he spared Harry to raise as his Heir. Harry represented the Dark Lord’s spoils of War. A child who despite his parents’ tragic end would worship and obey the Dark Lord as his Father. Harry also represented the next generation and the Renewal. The fact that he was a half-blood was not dicussed because he had been chosen by the Drak Lord. To question Harry's blood status was seen to question the Drak Lord himself. And people who did that often wound up dead. 

“Yeah,” Harry fiddled with the laces on his pyjamas pants. “My Father tried to kill me but my Mum’s sacrifice saved me. Why do you think he chose a half-blood as his heir? It was either that or admit he failed to kill a baby.” Harry smiled to hide the uncomfortable emotion of being vulnerable with someone. 
“He could have picked Neville. He would have been a much better heir. A pureblood and all.”

“Aww, Harry I think you’re a great heir. Very … heiry.” Hermione said shaking Harry’s leg that hung across the arm rest lovingly.

“Either way that does not mean you have good survival instincts.” Draco cut in.
“And you do.” Harry said back to joking.
“I’ll have you know that I have survived my family – Aunt Bella – for nearly 18 years, so yeah I’d say I’ve got good instincts.”
“Oh my God Aunt Bella!” Harry rolled his head. “Hermione you’ve never met Bellatrix Lestrange have you?”
Hermione shook her head. Of course, she had heard stories about the Dark Lord’s right hand woman but was never unfortunate enough to actually meet her. 
“If you ever do, run.” Harry said deadly seriously. 
Draco laughed almost sinisterly from the coffee table. “Remember that time she tried to get you to fly your training broom off the roof.”
“No, I actually decided to block that out of my memory entirely. That and the time she tried to get Nagini to eat me.”
“You smelled like a rodent for a week.” Draco laughed. 
“Do you see I do have good survival instincts. I survived all of those times. And I surived a Cracken today. And I’ve survived being you best friend my whole life.”
“I think you’ll find it’s the other way round. I survived being your only friend.”
“Oi!” Harry lifted his head in indignation as Draco laughed and Hermione joined in. 

Before it could escalate Hermione cut in, “Boys, it’s not even a competition. I’m a mudblood who has survived 7 years of Hogwarts.”
The two took a moment to look at her until they relented easily with soft nearly simultaneous “Yeahs”

“I have a question about that,” Harry said needless sticking his hand up in the air as if they were in class.
“Don’t ask a question.” Draco muttered.
“Yes, Harry.” Hermione smiled but in reality she was terrified of what he was going to say. 
“You don’t have to answer. And you certainly don’t need to answer honestly.” Hermione was really getting nervous for what he was about to ask. 
“Who’s the best shag?”
Draco
Her mind answered instinctively. They were terrible and awful and brutal together. But physically it was like the push and pull of magnets. 
“And don’t say Draco.” Harry added subsequently, loudly.
“Ya, we all know I’m a fantastic fuck.” Draco responded coolly. 

Hermione was gratful for the reprive. She was not going to be honest here. It was like asking a talk-show host who their favourit gust was. 

“Um, well, it’s kind of hard to say because like one guy might be really good foreplay but only ok in bed whereas another man might be terrible at all the other stuff but great at sex.” Hermione fumbled through.
“A very diplomatic answer Hermione,” Draco speaking up to the ceiling, “do you see this is why you have good survival instincts.”
“No but like,” Harry now turned to sit properly on the chair facing her. His hands were entwined together and his elbows sat in between his thighs. It was unusual Harry like this. The position made him look so juvenile. “How do you know like what someone wants? Like how did you know that calling Draco ‘Master’ that first time would make him feral.”
Hermione blushed at the memory and at the thought that Draco has discussed it in some detail with Harry. Everyone knew they shagged she just didn’t know that details they shared among each other. Hermione stole a glance over from Draco who just laid there like a statue. 
“… well … I … um just sort of guessed. You sort of need to take a person as you meet them that first time. If their always in control let them in control. That’s why a little bit of foreplay is important, it’s fun and people usually slip into their most comfortable roll. Once their comfortable in sex the first time won’t be that bad. You can work out the details later as you get to know each other more.”

Harry nodded, actively listening to what Hermione was saying. It was like she was giving the most fascinating lecture of his life.
“Ok and um let’s say the girl like being tough most of the time but like is really soft when she’s with you. Should I be tough or gentle?”
“I don’t know Harry. It’s also important that you feel comfortable. That’s probably just a bit of communication." Hermione answered genuinely. Harry nodded. Absorbing all of Hermione’s words. 

“Ok but then who was the worst shag you ever?”
“Well, I’m not going to tell you who it was –“
“It was Draco wasn’t it.” Harry stage-whispered to Hermione loud enough for Draco to hear. 
“Ha. Ha. Ha,” Draco laughed monotone. “I’ll have you know that Hermione always comes when we have sex.”
“He didn’t need to know that,” Hermione shakes her head. 
“My reputation is being threatened.”
“Well then yes one of the worst shags I ever had was Draco.”
Harry laughed delighted to get a straight answer out of Hermione that drags Draco down. 
“What. When.” Draco sits bolt upright. 
Hermione was threading in dangerous territory. She knew that. She smiled slyly. 
“That time after the summer in fifth year.”
Draco took a moment to think back to that time. “Ok fair enough,” he holds up his hands in surrender. “But I was not the only one at fault there.”
“Me!” Hermione points in disbelief to herself. Draco couldn’t be serious right now. 
“Why? What happened?” Harry asked wanting to be included in the conversation. 
Draco and Hermione share a look deciding if they should tell Harry or not. After a moment of Harry looking between them Draco answered. “I wanted to try something new. It didn’t work out. And I shouldn’t be shamed for that.” He pointed at Hermione. It was now Hermione’s turn to hold her hands up in surrender. “Hey I never shamed you but you’re here telling Harry that every time you have sex it will be great.”
“I’ve had sex before.” Harry clarified because he felt it was getting confused and lost in whatever conversation Draco and Hermione were having. He just hadn’t been with the girl he wanted to do it with.

“Ok enough of the sex talk.” Draco finished the conversation. “Back to how to get the Sword of Gryffindor. I was thinking maybe if could find out more about how the Sword has revealed itself to in the past and why then maybe we could figure out how to call on the Sword.” Draco said. 
“I don’t know maye we could just throw Harry in a cage with a hungry lion. That seems like a pretty Gryffindor thing to do.” Hermione joke.

And with that they retired for the evening.

Chapter Text

Pansy was acting crazy. Everyone knew Pansy was a bit crazy, but right now, Pansy was openly acting crazy. She was literally hanging off Harry’s arm as they walked into History of Magic from breakfast. She took Draco’s unoccupied seat next to him in class and would not let go of him. No matter how much he tried to worm and wriggle away, she just would not let go. It was hard to concentrate at the best of times in History of Magic, but with this gold standard comedy act taking place in the front row of class, it was damn near impossible to pay attention. 

Harry hadn't even mentioned his date with Panys once out on the lake or in his apartment yesterday. Clearly, Pansy had been thinking of him. Hermione imagined Pansy must have been searching the whole castle for him yesterday, waiting for him to reappear. She wondered why Pansy never came to the door of his apartment.

At the break of class, Harry made a run for it into the boys’ bathroom. And Pansy waited outside. Hermione was going to walk on to her next class when Draco stopped her. 
“Can you talk to Pansy?” he asked earnestly on Harry’s behalf. Eventually, when Harry did formally reject Pansy, Draco would still have a marriage contract to fulfil, so it really was in his best interest that his future fiancée not go around acting like a raving lunatic. 
Hermione obliged. While Draco darted into the bathroom to find Harry. 

“Hey,” Hermione began gently.
“Hi,” Pansy smiled, the elation clear in her eyes. 
“So you and Harry, huh?” 
“Oh my lord, yes! He’s so brilliant.” Pansy looked up at the ceiling and contorted with happiness.
“So I take the date went well,” Hermione continued with a gentle tone.
“Yes. We talked for hours about everything and nothing. It was amazing.” Pansy was genuinely acting as if Harry hung the moon and the stars.  
“Has Harry told you how he feels yet?” Hermione probed, hoping this might make the witch realise that Harry had barely spoken to her. 
“No but sometimes you just know these things. You know. You just look into their eyes and you know.”
“Right.”

Harry reappeared from the bathroom and looked startled to see Pansy standing there. Pansy quickly latched onto Harry, and they walked arm-in-arm to class together. 
“I thought you were going to talk to her.” Draco bent down and hissed in Hermione’s ear, annoyed at her lack of success. 
“I did. She didn’t get it. I can only say so much."
“Ok I'll try and talk to her a lunch."

Draco and Hermione continued on their way to class together. “Is there any chance that someone slipped Pansy a love potion or something?”
“Maybe. I’ll try and get an antidote anyway in Potions this evening. It can’t hurt to give her a dose of the cure if she is afflicted.”
“You better hurry. At this rate she’s going to force Harry to get matching tattoos.”

Draco slid into the seat next to her after lunch. Hermione could already tell that talks had not gone well.
“Forget matching tattoos, Pansy’s going to get their bodies sown together.” As if on cue, the loving couple walked in, body on arm. 
“She’ll get the hint eventually.” Hermione whispered. Sure, it might take weeks or months for Pansy to realise that Harry doesn’t like her. That was fine. For once, Hermione wasn’t the one suffering. She empathised with Harry, but it was no skin off her nose.

Hermione was eating a small snack after school outside while reading her book. It was one of the first fine days of the year. She had made a ham sandwich down in the kitchens and was finishing it off while reading her book, To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee. She was reading in one of the alcoves around the courtyard. Sitting in the stone arch, the sun kept her warm. The air was still cold this time of year, but with the sun, it was just pleasant.

There were a few other students outside who had decided to enjoy the sun as well. Ron, Neville, Seamus and Dean were not too far away, kicking a ball between each other in the yard. There were no leaves in the tree in the middle of the courtyard yet. Instead, tiny buds dotted the end of the branch. Every so often, a large fluffy cloud would cover the sun, reminding you that it was still early in the year. One of those clouds had just covered the sun, casting a familiar greyness across the land. It was all very peaceful until she heard the shouting.

Hermione looked across the courtyard to see Harry running out the door. Pansy was running after him, pleading with him to stop. The group of Slytherin students trailed after her again. Finally, when Harry got to the middle of the courtyard, he stopped and turned on her. He put his arm out as if trying to calm a wild beast. She stopped a few paces from him. It was then Hermione saw that she was crying. The group of Slytherins came to a halt on the steps. The whole courtyard stilled as everyone stopped to watch Harry and Pansy. 
“Look,” Harry said, “Pansy I don’t love you. I will never love you.”
There was a moment of cracking silence. A crow cawed from above just before Pansy broke down in tears. Hermione felt for her as she watched Pansy crumble. Her feet gave way beneath her, and she folded in on herself as the words landed. Harry breathed out. There was a moment of nothing but everyone watching this titan of a woman break down. 

Then out of nowhere, Ron ran at Harry and punched him square across the jaw. The force knocked Harry to the ground. Ron stood above Harry, panting in anger.

Hermione was watching in shock at what had just happened. One couldn't even speak ill of the Heir without getting into trouble. Before she got to know Harry, she wouldn't even look into his eyes. To strike the Heir was to ask to be killed. Ron had almost certainly just sealed his own death. 

Harry looked up a Ron, clutching his jaw in disbelief at what had just happened. 

Draco ran down to Pansy and poured the contents of a glass vial down her throat. He craddled her head and pulled it back and poured in the purple liquid. Pansy blinked back a few times. Still, no one dared move. 

"Where am I?" she asked, not loudly, but it was so quiet her voice carried so everyone could hear. So, it was a love potion, Hermione thought. Harry was still on the ground, clutching his jaw. It was like Pansy's words snapped Ron out of his stare down of Harry, and he realised what he had done. Ron looked a Pansy with forlorn longing.  Pansy looked at all of them. "What just happened?" a question they all wanted to know.

Chapter Text

“The first casualty when war comes is the truth.” - Hiram Johnson

Ronald Weasley needed to lie, beg, borrow and steal to get himself out of the death sentence he had committed himself to. He would need to be quick, and clever, and brave. There was a moment just before he sealed his fate that he could have changed it all. 

And in that moment – he ran.

Ron ran inside the castle, past the large group of Slytherin witnesses, into the dorm. He was running for safety, for home. Home would not save him. He was immediately found in the dorm and sequestered away from everyone.

The news spread like wildfire throughout the students, a pureblood had been poisoned and the Heir had been punched. Of course, stories varied as it grew legs. “The Heir was knocked out”, “Draco Malfoy was poisoned to fall in love with Pansy”, “Ron tried to kill the Heir”. It was madness. 

In the coming days, it was as if a live wire ran raw through every student at Hogwarts. It was a combination of the energy of something so unprecedented taking place and the fear of what would happen next. The event had served as a dim reminder at how quickly things can go wrong. Not just for mudbloods but for half-bloods as well.

If Hermione were in Ron’s situation, she would have gotten to her knees the moment it happened. He should have begged; he should have said that he was affected by the same love potion that poisoned Pansy; he should have claimed that he was affected by the Imperious curse.  He might have been just pureblood enough to get away with it. He would still have been punished, but he would survive. Anything was better than running. He lost his chance to change his situation when he ran.

He was being held in a room in the dungeons as inquiries were being made. McGonagall was desperate to find the truth in the matter and then lay it to rest. 

On Thursday, Hermione heard news that an official Ministerial inquiry was to be held on Sunday to decide Ron’s fate. They were not going to make a spectacle of it, but the message was going to be tightly controlled and brutal. No one touches the Royal Family. 

The purebloods had closed ranks. Draco sat next to Harry in every class again. They only spoke among themselves. Gates were closed. The lines of rank and importance were practically carved into the stones at Hogwarts. Hermione noticed that attacks on mudbloods had increased. Strangely, from half-bloods. She supposed that they wanted to distance themselves as much as possible from mudbloods. They wanted to align themselves more with the purebloods. 

Hermione hadn’t spoken to Draco or Harry in days. It reminded Hermione just how well she had done for herself. She came from no special family but yet she had a box of jewels and a pocket full of secrets from some of the most important members of their society. 

After school on Thursday, Hermione was sitting by the wall along a corridor. She didn’t want to retire to her room so early. The last few nights, there had just been nothing to do in the evenings, so she was spending all he time in her room. She was sick of it. She couldn’t do any research because Draco and Harry had all her books. So she sat by the wall and read while feeling comfort as the people went by. It was still bright out, but the sunset had begun, and colours were slowly spreading across the sky. 

Draco found her not long after she sat down. Draco was in his Quidditch uniform. He was clearly on his way down to practice, and her looked divine. He always did. But Hermione particularly loved him in his Quidditch gear. It was tight and form-fitting in all the right places. He must have been looking for her. He walked by casually. And then her stopped by her, but her didn’t turn his body to talk to her. They weren’t alone, and enough students were walking by every once in a while to put Draco on edge. It was enough people to make Draco whisper. 
“Harry wrote a letter to his father requesting that this whole ridiculous situation be reduced down to horseplay but the Dark Lord has refused. He just wanted you to know that he was sorry about what he has to do.”
Hermione expected this. Once the papers got a hold of the story, there was no minimising it. 

Hermione rolled her eyes at the headline two days before - “Punchlion”. It was a well-known fact that the Daily Prophet was a propaganda machine. But appears that they had overcompensated this time. In painting Ron out to be the villain, they had made the Heir look weak. The story they ran described how Ron, a rogue blood traitor, came out of nowhere and attacked the Heir, kneeling over him and beating him into a bloody pulp. Of course, Harry valiantly fought him off in the end. The Daily Prophet also explained how Ms Parkinson stood by, distressed and beautiful. She was traumatised by the ordeal. They claimed this all came from ‘witnesses at the scene.’- liars. Once the story was out there, someone was going to have to answer for it.

Draco didn’t stop for long, but they found themselves alone in the corridor for a moment. Hermione didn’t even think as she stood up and took this precious moment alone to wrap her arms around Draco’s neck and kiss him. It was a light, intimate kiss. Hermione didn’t even remember deciding that she was going to do it. She wouldn’t have been able to pinpoint the moment of desire to do it. Draco barely had time to reciprocate it with his lips before Hermione pulled back.
“Be careful,” she whispered. These times were uncertain. 

Draco smirked and leaned down even closer to her cheekily. 
“Don’t worry about me. It’s you we have to worry about,” Draco smiled, “Maybe don’t go releasing anymore centaurs during until the inquiry has past.”
“That wasn-“
“I fly high in the air I can see a lot of things.”
Just then, a group of three young Hufflepuff students came walking by, laughing. Draco and Hermione quickly broke apart. Draco walked away with his hands in his pockets as if he never even stopped by.  

Hermione considered what Draco had told her. Yes, perhaps this all could have been minimised if they could get to the bottom of it. But there was still so much that they did not know about. They still couldn’t figure out who poisoned Pansy. It was like a mystery that people could keep theorising over because no one could be wrong. Hermione had been considering this for a number of days. 

There were loads of reasons to poison Pansy. But it was the specific type of poison that intrigued Hermione. Why a love potion? Why direct it towards Harry? Why not poison Harry as well? It made no sense. The effect of the potion is quite detectable. Draco and Hermione realised it within the day. Was it all just some prank that went wrong, or was there more to it?

Then there was her. Everyone thought Harry was having sex with Hermione. Keeping her as his plaything. If they wanted someone with a sexual relationship with Harry, why not use her? If they wanted someone to hurt Harry in private, then why not use her – a disposable mudblood? Maybe it wasn’t about Harry, even though the potion was directed at Harry – the Heir. A dangerous person to make the subject of a prank love potion. It felt too sinister to be a prank. If it was a plot the what was it for? It had achieved nothing. It never would have gone beyond mildly embarrassing Pansy. So why do it at all if not a prank to embarrass Pansy? There are hundreds of easier and cheaper potions that could have done that. This brought Hermione back to where she started. Why a love potion? Was Ron involved? Hermione’s head spun in circles. She couldn’t figure it out.

She didn’t have to figure it out. Hermione was happy to fade into the background. She was happy to be forgotten about for the next few days. Let everything die down and get back to her research once the dust had settled.
When Sunday came, Hermione avoided everyone. With a Ministerial Inquiry happening, it was best to avoid everyone. People were unpredictable when they were excitable. Habit changed on days like these. And often disaster struck. She stayed in her room, knee deep in books. She was working hard, trying to study for her impending N.E.W.T.S. That was the one positive of her unrequited peace. She had lots of time to catch up on study. Hermione knew her score didn’t matter and that she was already heavily disadvantaged but she still wanted to try her best. 

She was left totally undisturbed until the afternoon. At three o’clock, a heavy rap came at her door. It was very unexpected. It startled her, causing her to spill some ink down herself. She tried to wipe it off but knew the attempt would be futile. She would have to lift the stain with magic later. 

She opened the door, and to her surprise, she looked up to find Professor Snape standing there. He looked unhappy to be there. But then again, he always looked unhappy.  
“You are needed upstairs in the Great Hall. Now,” he said curtly before turning on his heel and leaving, his long black robe billowed behind him. He didn’t even give Hermione a chance to respond. She supposed that she didn’t have a choice. It wasn’t a request, it was an order. 

Her stomach turned a little as he left. It was an easy conclusion to come to that she was being brought into the inquiry. What did they want her for?  

She knew it would not do well to keep them waiting. But she couldn’t turn up like this. She quickly put on something slightly more presentable. A knee-length picnic dress with a green background and delicate white florals throughout. It was low cut but pretty. She trotted up to the Great Hall, trying to make up time. 

Hermione came to the large oak doors, and they suddenly seemed unfamiliar. She gently pushed one side open and tried to make as little sound as possible as she slipped in. She tentatively closed the door behind her fully. She was even scared to breathe. 

The Great Hall was not set up the same. At the top, where the teachers normally sat, another group occupied their space. In the centre, sitting in the headmistress’s seat, which Hermione was only recognising for the first time, was an ornate oak throne was the Dark Lord. To his left sat Harry, the McGonagall, then Sirius, then Draco and Pansy. To his right sat Bellatrix Lestrange. Hermione remembered what Draco and Harry had told her about the wild and dangerous woman. Next to her was Professor Snape, and then two Ministry men that Hermione didn’t recognise. It was a court of execution and sat on the dias, judging he rest down below. 

Hermione shuffled along the wall. She had an animalistic desire to stay far away from the threat they posed. She kept her head down and moved to the side where a bench had been set up for the Weasley family to occupy. There really were quite a lot of them, Hermione remarked. Molly Weasley sat at the end, curled into her husband, softly sobbing with a handkerchief in hand. The rest of the family looked stoic, war-torn. None of them must have slept for days in the lead-up to this. 

In the centre of it all, kneeling up at the Dark Lord and pleading, sat Ron Weasley. 

Hermione’s skin crawled at the sense that she should not be here. It was an intimate private thing, and she should go. She couldn’t go. 

Hermione listened to the end of one of the Ministry men read out a report. Hermione had no context, so do not follow it. He finished, and there was a patch of silence. 
“Miss Granger, thank you for joining us, please step forward,” Voldemort called down from the dais. Hermione moved towards the centre of the room and stood a few feet back for Ron, behind him and off to the side. It was like she feared she could catch his fate if she got too close. 
“I believe you were present on the day in question” He does not go into any further detail. They all know why they are here. Molly’s soft sobs are the only sound in the moment. It doesn’t sound like a question, so it took her a moment to realise they were waiting for her to answer. 
“Yes, my lord.” She keeps her head bowed and eyes focused on the floor. The Dark Lord hums in thought. 
“Please enlighten us on the events.” he directs.
Once again, Hermione receives no further information. What do they want to know? Do they want to hear about how she helped set Harry and Pansy up, was that why she was here? No, keep it brief, keep it factual. 
“It was a singular punch to the side of the face landing on the jaw.” That was it. She was a mudblood. She had no place for storytelling. 

“Miss Granger you may look up,”
Hermione took a deep breath in. Really, what was the point in having strict rules surrounding etiquette if people just discard them to feign friendliness? The Dark Lord was smiling. He was trying to be nice. Lull her into a false sense of security. 
“I will be clearer. Do you have any idea as to who poisoned Miss Parkinson?” He spoke crisply and clearly. Hermione took another breath in. A simple question. One she knew the answer to. 
“No.”
“It appears she was poisoned to be humiliated with and undying infatuation for my heir. You and he have a certain relationship and I want you to take a moment to consider who might have done such a thing.”
They must have been following the same circle she was following. And come to the same end. Why use Pansy if you want to get to the Heir? Why not just poison the disposable mudblood who he already fucks?
She opens her mouth. No words come out at first because she doesn’t have an answer.
“I’m sorry, my lord,” Hermione directs her gaze back down to the floor, “I do not know.”
The Dark Lord hums again. “Very well.” He waves his hand, and she is dismissed. Hermione’s heart is racing. She goes back to stand by the wall. Such a simple thing, and she feels like she has been electrocuted a hundred times. 

“So now Mr Weasley, we have tied up all the loose ends. Barricaded in excuses or lies you might try and run. So tell us, what prompted you of such lowly birth to strike my Heir.” The Dark Lord spoke crisply and clearly. There was nothing but sheer venom in his words. 
Ron swallowed. Everyone waited to hear what he had to say. The air hung still in anticipation. “Well, I love her. Pansy, I love you. And when I heard the Heir here say that he would never love you and I saw you cry, well, I just had to do something. I’m sorry.”
Hermione couldn’t believe it. What a stupid boy! Her heart sank for him. 

“I would never touch that blood traitor like you.” Pansy spit. Her face contorted as if she had just eaten a shit flavour jellybean. Hermione thought that was all she deserved. A man was ready to die for her, and all she could give him was disgust. 

However horrible Ron’s death was going to be, it was clear from the look on his face that Pansy had just turned it into torture. Hermione had never seen the embodiment of heartbreak before. When she looked at Ron’s face, that was all she saw a world of heartbreak. Hermione never wanted to see that look again in her lifetime.

Ron would find no mercy here for such trivialities as love. Love meant nothing to these people. Hermione felt sick and faint and like lead all at the same time. She was going to watch a man die for love, surrounded by people who didn’t care.

The Dark Lord is about to speak again to cast his judgment when Harry steps in. 
“Father, I have been considering this over many days. I think I have a much more favourable solution for all parties present. Hermione's heart soars. Harry has a plan. Everything is going to be ok. Harry is going to get everyone out of this one. If there is anyone who can change Lord Voldemort’s mind, it's Harry.
“Go on.”
“Humiliation.” Harry says, “I think a death is too quick. I want to make an example out of him. If we kill him now he will be forgotten by next week’s news. No, I would like to be more creative with this. Plus, he is a pureblood so he has some breeding qualities that may be worth saving for later.”
Hermione is going to be sick. Her eyes are locked on Harry. She doesn’t recognise him. She can’t recognise him.
“I need a toad to practice my Transfiguration on in preparation for my N.E.W.T.S. I see it a quiet a fitting punishment, Father.”

Voldemort grins an oily smile. He lifts his wand to transform Ron. Ron tries to struggle, to escape. But he is trapped under the spell cast by the wand. Hermione watches as Ron’s skin begins to boil, then takes on a green tone. His legs and hands begin to shrivel and shrink. His eyes turn black and large and glassy. And then he croaks from his throat. Ron lands on the floor as a green warty toad.