As I walked through my beautiful garden
To her as to me, ‘tis be my Eden
My Eve, the night so dusky and dim
Talked of fruits and abominations of scarlet skin
I saw before me, instead two great snakes
Of undying darkness and glorious sin
- "Night" by Arielle Gray
The six of them sat in the common room of their new dormitories until they left on their mission. The fire was crackling merrily in the hearth and Harry and Ron were playing Wizard’s Chess on the coffee table. Meier had his feet propped up and was gazing into the flames, as if he was thinking about something that had great importance. Ferro sat beside him, his eyes wandering over towards Hermione rather often. Malfoy was writing an essay.
“I’m going to the library,” Hermione told Harry and Ron, although the other three probably heard her also. It was deadly quiet in the room, except for Ron and Harry’s occasional jabbering and the crunching sound of chess pieces being smashed.
“Why?” Ron asked, looking up from the board to study her.
“I need some books for an essay,” she lied, wincing as she did so. Hermione was a rather truthful person.
“You’re a horrible liar,” Harry told her.
“Thanks, Harry,” Hermione said sarcastically. “But I’m going anyway. I need to research some things.”
“You’re sure that you don’t want me to go with you?” Ron asked.
“Or me?” Harry put in.
Hermione rolled her eyes as she slung her backpack over her shoulder. “I’ll be fine. I have my wand. And if I’m not back in an hour, you can come looking for me.”
She turned away from them and stepped between the couches to reach the portrait that led out of the common room.
“Where’re you going?” Meier asked from behind her. Hermione sighed exasperatedly.
“Good God, I’m only going to the library,” Hermione snapped back at him.
“We’re supposed to protect you,” Meier told her, making to stand up from the couch.
“I’m in Hogwarts. I don’t need “protecting” from anyone,” Hermione spat.
“Fine. Ten minutes.”
“I’ll be gone an hour,” Hermione told him.
Malfoy glanced up at her from his essay and sneered, “Is the library even open, Granger?”
Hermione turned her amber eyes on him. “Actually it is, Malfoy. Not that you would know since you’ve never been there.”
“I don’t need books to prove my intelligence, Granger,” he spat back at her, rolling up his parchment.
“And I don’t need my father’s money to buy me positions that I don’t deserve,” Hermione snapped back. She passed by him swiftly.
The others winced at her harsh response and turned their eyes on Malfoy as Hermione flounced out of the common room angrily.
He merely took out another piece of parchment, dipped his quill in more ink and continued writing with a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.
Hermione was on her way back from the library, several rather large and heavy books cradled in her arms, when she was stopped by someone
A hand had wrapped around her upper arm in a vise like grip, startling her in the process. Hermione winced as her books hit the ground with a loud ‘thud’. Calming her shaking nerves, she looked up into the face of the person who had stopped her.
He was very handsome with caramel colored skin and slanted deep, hunter green eyes. Long black hair that turned to gentle curls at the ends, partially hid his face, and what wasn’t hanging free, was tied back in a low ponytail that fell a little past his shoulders.
It was his voice, really, that gave away his identity that was partially hidden in the dark. He sounded like Malfoy, although she rarely heard this man talk. Soft, but dangerous, like silk covered iron.
“Who are you?” he asked her softly.
Hermione tugged her arm, trying to get away from his grip, but it didn’t loosen. Blaise forcefully turned her around so that she faced him. Hermione cast her eyes towards the ground, hoping that he wouldn’t recognize her.
“You look exactly like Granger,” he said, peering at her face. Hermione grimaced. “Although there‘re some differences.”
“Yes, well…erm… I’m her cousin, here to visit the night,” Hermione lied. “But I have to leave now. So if you’d be so kind as to-”
“You’re beautiful,” Blaise murmured, drawing her closer to his face by her arm. His eyes peered at her. “You sound like her too.”
“Well it’s in the genes…”
Blaise studied her for a moment before picking up a tendril of long hair from her shoulder. “I think you’re lying,” he concluded, twisting her hair between his fingertips. “…only one person has eyes like yours-”
“I have to go,” Hermione interrupted harshly, her fingers fumbling in her pockets for her wand. She paled when she realized that she had to get to her bag in order to get her wand…and her bag was on the floor, nearly behind Blaise.
“Can I get a kiss, Granger?” he asked, his voice ragged, yet soft against her lips.
“I don’t think so Zabini.”
“When are you going to open up those creamy, long legs of yours?” Blaise said softly in her ear, making the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stand up. “When are you going to let me in?”
Hermione shivered at his words and was embarrassed to feel that he was actually having an effect on her.
Slowly, very slowly, he backed her against a wall and molded his body to hers, allowing her to feel his hardness through his robes and trousers.
“I’ve been watching you, Granger,” Blaise continued. The tip of his tongue traced the shell of her ear and stopped at her throat. “You should know better than to be as beautiful as you are.” He stopped and pulled away, searching her wide eyes with his own. “But you don’t even know how stunning you are, do you?”
Hermione turned her head, not wanting to meet his intense gaze. Heat was gathering in her stomach and she knew that it would progress into something more if he kept on going the way he was. She shouldn’t be feeling like this, especially in the arms of Blaise Zabini, second only to Malfoy in the intricate game of seducing girls, bedding them, and then dumping them.
He paused a millimeter from her lips. “Let me show you.”
“Is this what you say to every girl before you shag them, then leave them?” Hermione asked him, her breathing caught in her throat. “I don’t bed Slytherins…sorry.”
“So far, to my knowledge, you haven’t bedded anyone yet,” he replied smoothly, trapping her against the wall between his arms. “And you won‘t be, unless it‘s me.”
Hermione reddened at his comment. “I wouldn’t sleep with you if you paid me, Zabini,” she snapped back.
“Believe me, Hermione.” Hermione looked up at him with surprise at the use of her first name. “Money won’t be my currency.” He pressed against her suggestively, raising his hand to stroke her cheek with long finger.
Hermione opened her mouth, and whether it was to steal another breath of air or to spit out a comment at him, she wouldn’t know because she didn’t know what she was going to do anyway. Instead, Hermione found a pair of soft and demanding lips on her own. His tongue traced her mouth, asking for entrance and Hermione found it hard to yield. She struggled to get away from him, pushing his broad chest with her hands and she even considered biting his tongue. The kiss was fiery, caresses with his lips and those hands…those hands were weaving themselves in her silky tresses, moving down to her back and resting on the swell of her…
“Zabini!” a male voice growled from down the hall. “What in the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Hermione jumped back from Zabini’s mouth, startled and staring at the intruder like a deer in headlights. Her cheeks were growing red from embarrassment that she was actually letting Blaise kiss her. She inwardly groaned when she saw a shock of silvery blonde hair approach them.
He was most likely going to make matter worse by telling Harry and Ron when they got back. He really was the last person she wanted to see.
“Taking what’s mine,” Blaise said silkily to the blonde, although there was an malicious undercurrent in his voice, “before anybody else does.”
“Excuse me?” Hermione asked. “I don’t belong to anyone, least of all you-”
“Let’s go Granger, we need to patrol again,” Malfoy said gruffly, grabbing her arm and pulling her away from Blaise. “It’s been over an hour,” he added in a lower tone in her ear, as he snatched her bag from the stone floor.
“She doesn’t want you,” Blaise said to the blonde nastily. “You’re too fucked up for her, Malfoy.”
“What in the hell are you on about?” Malfoy asked in a dangerous tone, as if challenging the other boy.
Blaise stepped forward, now chest to chest with Malfoy. “I’m telling you to stay away from her. I know what you want Malfoy.”
“I don’t want her, Zabini,” Malfoy snapped. “And if I did, what makes you so sure that she’d want you?”
Malfoy then grabbed Hermione’s arms again and roughly pulled her along the hallway, away from a seething Zabini.
“What is he going on about Malfoy?” Hermione asked, almost tripping when Malfoy abruptly tugged her into a corner as a group of conversing Hufflepuffs walked by.
“Are you daft?” he snapped, his hand still wrapped tightly around her arm. “He likes you, Granger. He has since last year. I guess he’s finally snapped.”
“Let go of me!” Hermione said, pulling herself from Malfoy’s grip. “And what do you mean “snapped”?”
Malfoy rolled his eyes and wiped off his hands on his robes as if his fingers were dirty. Hermione scowled at his gesture, that once again implied her uncleanness.
“Finnegan told Brown that he was going to Hogsmeade with you, Granger. Naturally, she told the whole school.”
“Well why hasn’t Blaise told me?” Hermione asked curiously. “He didn’t have to get all schizophrenic on me and scare me out of my wits.”
“Muggles aren’t kindly looked upon in our world,” Malfoy replied, referring to the bigoted Pureblood aristocracy run by Voldemort. “I don’t know why he likes you anyway. You’re just a filthy, little-”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “When are you going to stop using Daddy’s pathetic comebacks and come up with your own, Malfoy?” she interrupted.
“As soon as he starts making them for me,” the blonde sneered. “Believe me mudblood, my retorts are all my own.”
She decided to ignored the last bit of his sentence and continued. “And since you think that muggles are so vile, you decided to join the Order? Are you too dense to realize that that doesn’t make any sense?”
The two finally reached the portrait of the silver haired knight with stunning blue eyes and he stopped before they entered.
“I’m not doing it to save your kind, Granger,” Malfoy said. All of the sudden he seemed rather tired, as if the excuse he had come with wasn’t working for him anymore. “Not everyone who joins the Order is a fool looking to be saved in the act of helping human kind.”
Hermione searched his stormy eyes with her own, a small part of her hoping that what he was saying was a tired excuse. Because if it was, there was still a small hope of salvation for him. For him to prove her wrong, that people do change in the bouts of war. And just this once, she hoped that the opinions that she had made about Malfoy were untrue or misunderstood, because for once, she wanted to be wrong. She needed to believe that there was some good worth saving in everyone.
He paused, looking down at her and nothing but exhaustion was apparent in his gaze.
“They do it for their own good, as I am. I have no desire to follow some half blooded lunatic all of my life and risk my fortune and everything that I have. I hold no use to Voldemort and once he realizes that, he’s going to kill me.”
His voice seemed to grow angrier at her ignorance of his situation, that she dared to think that there was anything worth saving in him. He didn’t need her hope or her pity. He needed her hate, because that was all he knew, all that he’d been taught.
“Not everything is black and white, you stupid mudblood. Are you colorblind or do you just not notice those shades of gray?”
Hermione held her breath as they walked into the common room, hoping that Malfoy would keep his mouth shut and not mention her little snog fest with Blaise. It looked as though Harry and Ron were about to leave the common room, probably to go looking for her. They jumped up and glared at Malfoy as he sat down.
“It’s been over an hour,” Ron complained, his arms crossed over his chest.
“Well all of me is still intact, Ron” Hermione said, sitting down in her armchair. “If you were so worried, why did you send Malfoy to come get me?”
“We didn’t,” Harry answered, glaring at Malfoy. Hermione raised an eyebrow.
“Don’t flatter yourself Granger,” Malfoy spoke up from his position on the couch. “I went out to “visit” Parkinson.” Hermione rolled her eyes. “By the time I was leaving I ran into you. If I hadn’t come back, Weasel and Potter would’ve accused me of killing you or something stupid like that.”
“It’s Weasley,” Ron snarled, his ears turning red at the tips. “And who knows, Malfoy? You‘ve done so much shit, that no one can trust you.”
Malfoy smirked at him. “Like I would touch the mudblood filth anyway, Weasel. Why don’t you tell her you like her already? The other’s aren’t going to wait forever .”
Hermione’s cheeks began to turn scarlet and she attempted to stop them. “That’s enough Malfoy. And Ron, don’t-”
“What others?” Ron asked through gritted teeth, his fists clenching and unclenching.
“I don’t know Weasel. Zabini seems like a good start,” the blonde answered, as though he was in deep thought. “You know he’s been eying the mudblood for quite some time. From what I’ve heard, plenty more blokes-”
“Okay!” Hermione interrupted loudly, her fiery eyes swinging over the two young men. “You’ve really said enough Malfoy. Let’s just all calm down before something happens that we’ll regret.”
“Like what, Granger?” Malfoy sneered, standing up to his full height. He really was quite tall, a good three inches above Ron’s 6’1 frame. “Having your worthless boyfriend attack me? Because if it is, by all means, allow him so I can beat the shit out of him.”
“No, Malfoy,” Hermione seethed. “I have my wand. And that means that I can remove the only thing that makes you a good shag for all the disease carrying slags in school.”
All five of the men visibly paled at her threat and Harry protectively cupped his crotch. At this point, Meier stepped in from his seat in front of the fire.
“I suggest you all retire,” he said softly, although his voice held a tone of undisputable authority. “Your day of seclusion begins tomorrow and there is much to be done.”
Rustling of possessions being drawn together filled the room and Hermione stood up, snatching her bag now full with books from the floor. The three of them, Harry, Ron and Malfoy, had to share a room, although Dumbledore had to place a charm on it that allowed no physical damage to be done to the occupants by another. If one attempted it, they would fly back five feet.
After murmuring goodnight to her friends, and receiving no response from Ron, Hermione opened the door to her room next to the chessboard and threw her bag down. She slipped into the bed, fully clothed, too tired and exhausted to do anything about them. It was some time before she could sleep due to the yelling coming from the boy’s room, which was conveniently, next to hers.
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