I Dare You

by slytherindiaries

Summary:

A shocking game of dare that leaves everyone baring all

***

Sick of feeling boring and safe, Hermione surprises everyone when she signs up for Nerve, a dangerous game where people pay the players for each dare they complete.

Whoever is controlling the game has a sick sense of humour. It's the only explanation for why she ends up paired with Draco Malfoy.

Notes:

Based on the movie Nerve

fuck j*r, fuck a*i

thank you to my betas esp sultrynuns as always (and for dealing with my tantrums and panic attacks. i'm a real hoot, ya'll)

My plan* is to have weekly updates!

*I've never been a planner in my life, but the fic is done (mostly)

Chapter 1

“Oh my god! Oh my god oh my god oh my god.” Lavender barrels toward the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall at lunchtime, shoving Hermione to one side and Parvati to the other to squeeze in the middle of them. “You’re never going to believe this.”

A schoolbag nearly takes out her head and as an elbow digs into her side, Hermione rolls her eyes and shifts in her seat to give her pseudo-friend more room on the bench.

Though Hermione uses the term ‘friend’ relatively loosely, she’s grown to understand Lavender and accepts all the things she has to offer that Hermione struggles with.

Clothes. Makeup. Talking to boys she hasn’t spent time in a tent with whilst running for her life.

Normal girl things.

Once they realised fighting over Ronald Weasley was completely asinine, it made returning to Hogwarts for eighth year much more enjoyable considering she and Lavender are roommates. It also helped that Ron chose not to return to finish out the final school year, instead opting to join the Auror Department with Harry.

They survived a war, for Merlin’s sake. Fighting over the ex-boyfriend that toyed with both of them was meaningless. They both want to move on.

While Hermione has her eye on one wizard in particular, Lavender has her eyes on…anyone. Everyone.

Waving around a sheet of parchment like a maniac—dangerously close to Hermione’s face, mind you—Lavender smiles broadly, basking in the attention from all of her friends as she keeps them on her toes. Her blue eyes spark with a mischief reminiscent of the Weasley twins. Hermione’s heart pangs in that all-too-familiar way at the thought.

Leaning away slightly—so as to not get a papercut on her cheek—Hermione tries to peer at the sheet to see what Lavender is so smug about. Before she can even ask, Ginny beats her to the punch.

“What are you on about?” the ginger asks, snatching the parchment right out of Lavender’s hand.

The blonde grins wickedly. “You’ve all heard of Nerve, right?”

“Nerve?” Hermione asks as she leans over the table, still trying to look at the page Ginny is now holding.

“Well, no, of course you haven’t heard about it.” Lavender covers up her comment with a nasally laugh. “It’s this, like, truth or dare type game but without the truth.”

“So just…dare.” Hermione deadpans. She sits back down in her seat, her disinterest evident as she picks apart a scone.

Lavender nods, her blonde curls bouncing. “Yeah and people pay you to complete the dares.”

Hermione’s brows furrow. “Where did you hear about this?”

“Well, my friend at Durmstrang played last semester, so I heard all about it. But then I was walking through Knockturn Alley—”

“Why were you walking through there?” Hermione interjects.

“—and I saw the sign up info on the ground, like, someone must’ve dropped it or something.” She holds her hand out and Ginny passes her the sheet back. “You can learn a lot in Knockturn. I also saw the club Evanesco is having an amateur night tonight, Mi,” she says to Hermione with a snort. “You should sign up.”

“To play Nerve!?”

“No, for amateur night,” Lavender laughs. She taps her chin, thinking out loud. “Which is more likely, Hermione playing Nerve or becoming an amateur stripper?”

“She could strip as a dare,” Parvati supplies unhelpfully with a laugh of her own, making Lavender cackle.

Pulling them back to the conversation, Ginny motions back to the sheet of parchment. “What’s a Watcher and a Player?”

“I was getting there,” Lavender retorts. “To sign up for Nerve, all we have to do is sign our name under the Player column and it gets magically linked to the creators on the other end.” Lavender taps the sheet, duplicating it. “I’ve already made a bunch of copies and passed them out as I was running here.”

“But…how does this even work?” Hermione can’t help but ask. “How do you get your dares? How do you get paid? Is there a line they won’t cross? How are you supposed to prove that you completed your dare? When—”

“Her-mi-o-ne,” the blonde enunciates, cutting her off with a roll of her blue eyes over one shoulder. “No one expects you to sign up. No need for the third degree.”

“I’m just looking out for you,” she mutters quietly.

She can’t help that her brain never shuts off and she’s always thinking three steps ahead. Instead of judging her for always being prepared, they could take a page from her book and think things through a little more before jumping in with both feet.

She’s tired of being judged, always being considered a killjoy. She can’t just turn off her brain and go with the flow, even when she wants to, even when she wishes she could.

“We get a magical dare card.” Lavender states like it’s obvious. “Every dare has a galleon value, so each time you successfully complete a dare, you’re promised that money.” Lavender grins, her mouth stretching toward the scar along her cheek left by Greyback in the final battle. “But there is a catch. If you break any of their rules, any money you’ve won gets taken away.”

Hermione bites her lip, but the questions burst out of her anyway. “What rules? And that still doesn’t answer how they will even know you completed your dare.”

“Merlin, Hermione,” Lavender huffs. “It’s like a secret society. There are people who were already included in the planning. Students amongst us. They’ll be watching, capturing everything as proof. It goes through the Wizarding Web and everything will be uploaded and via tiny little cameras.”

After the war, the wizarding world has focused on rebuilding and catching up with the rest of the world in terms of technology. Things like electricity and the internet that Hermione was already accustomed to from living at home, and she’s grateful the wizarding world is finally catching up.

Still, instead of focusing their efforts on uploading archive documents to make learning and research easier, apparently people instead had enough time to set up an entire secret game with passcodes and galleon transfers.

Priorities. Hermione grumbles to herself before telling her friends, “That feels invasive.”

“Well you don’t need to play!” the blonde finally snaps. 

Hermione shrinks, feeling small. She meets Ginny’s gaze across the table, and the redhead rolls her eyes, trying to help Hermione brush off Lavender’s outburst.

Fluffing her hair, Lavender takes a deep breath before continuing. “You don’t need to play, but you can watch. That’s the other side of it.” She taps her nail against the other column on the sign up sheet. “The Watchers are who donate money for your dares. It’s, like, an auction and the highest bidder for that round gets to choose your next dare.” She winks at them. “And I expect you all to watch me win. And donate, of course.”

“Hello, everybody. Lavender, I think you dropped this.” Luna dances over to the table, a serene smile on her lips. Her long, pale hair is braided over her shoulder with flowers weaved through the plaits. She holds out what looks like another sign up sheet.

“Luna, have you heard of Nerve?” Lavender asks with a wicked grin. “It’s a game of dare. The rules are, you can’t tell any of the professors about it. If you attempt but fail to complete one of the dares, you don’t get the money, and you can’t, like, request a new dare. Whatever they give you, you have to do. You can quit, but it has to be done in the time between one dare ending and before you receive your next dare or else you lose all the money.” Lavender has the small group of girls on the edge of their seat while Hermione is only half listening.

She knows that if she gave Lavender her full attention, she’d only come up with more questions.

Yet, she can’t help but mutter, “This all sounds needlessly complicated.”

“It’s just supposed to be fun, Hermione.” Lavender looks around the table at their small group of friends before refocusing on Hermione. “This would actually probably be good for you if there was any chance in hell I could convince you to sign up…”

When Hermione doesn’t say anything, Lavender continues with a sigh. “I won’t even bother. You’re a Watcher, Hermione. And that’s okay.” She shrugs. Turning on the bench, she addresses Ginny, Parvati, and Luna while holding up the sign up sheets. “How about any of you? Join me?” 

With a swirl of a quill, Lavender signs her name on the bottom and Hermione watches the ink fade as it seeps into the parchment to the person on the other side.

Before Hermione can make a retort, the doors to the Great Hall open and Blaise Zabini swaggers inside. Embarrassingly, Hermione’s head turns, trailing after him, watching his every move as he struts over to the Slytherin table.

“Why don’t you just go talk to him,” Lavender suggests after watching Hermione practically drool over the fit Slytherin. “You’ve fancied him all year. Now’s your chance, before the year’s over.”

Hermione shakes her head, curls brushing against her cheeks. “I can’t.” Especially not now. “He’s with all his friends.”

Lavender crosses her arms over her ample chest, but it’s the pitying look on her face that Hermione can’t stomach. “You’ll never know if you don’t ask. Who cares if he doesn’t like you! Then you can stop wondering and get busy finding a guy who will worship you.”

Hermione snorts. Yeah. Because that’s likely.

“Fine. I dare you to go talk to him.”

“I’m not the one signing up for Nerve, Lav.”

Standing, Lavender braces her hands on the Gryffindor table, her hair falling down in a curtain as she leans in to talk to Hermione. “Then I’ll talk to him for you.”

“Lavender, no!” Hermione reaches for her roommate, but the blonde is too quick, twirling just out of reach before Hermione can get a hand on her.

Shit. Lurching off the bench, Hermione rushes to her friend who’s already at the Ravenclaw table. She catches up to her housemate by the time they’re passing the Hufflepuffs and by then, people are already starting to turn and watch them.

Desperately, Hermione grips onto Lavender’s arm, trying to tug her away, to pull her away from the stares boring into her from the snake pit. Uncaring, Lavender continues to saunter over to the table and Hermione loosens her grip. She can’t follow her over there, doesn’t need to witness her embarrassment up close and personal.

She hovers by the Hufflepuff table, simultaneously feeling nauseous about watching this and yet unable to look away.

Hermione has a clear view of Blaise sitting beside Draco Malfoy of all people. The Slytherin prince is eyeing Lavender curiously, but doesn't linger. Instead, those silver eyes dart to Hermione with interest. That damned brow arches and his lips twitch.

He’s already laughing at her.

Shrinking into herself, Hermoine refocuses on the nightmare about to play out in front of her. Across from Blaise is Theo Nott who sits beside Daphne Greengrass and Pansy Parkinson. The girls look back over their shoulders and whisper to each other, laughing behind their manicured hands.

While post-war trauma healed them all in surprising ways, not everyone moved on from the house rivalries. Or general bitchiness.

Hermione cringes. All of the Slytherins are going to get a front row seat to her mortification. Briefly, she wonders if she can obliviate herself or at worst, avada herself.

She can’t hear Lavender from this distance, but the blonde leans between Theo and Daphne, palms on the table to talk to Blaise. Hermione’s heart stops when Lav pulls back and points her finger directly at Hermione. 

Oh, Merlin. Now everyone really is looking at her.

Lavender waves her hand to beckon Hermione to join them, but she can’t. She shakes her head as her cheeks flame, eyes still unable to pull away from Blaise. His mouth stretches into a broad grin as Lavender talks to him and Hermione’s breath catches.

The boy she’s lusted over all year leans to one side and meets her gaze. For a moment, Hermione doesn’t breathe. She’s not sure if her heart even continues to beat in her chest as Blaise Zabini drags his brown eyes over her.

Then her heart shatters, embarrassment flooding through her as the object of her desire shakes his head. She can’t read lips all that well, but she understands the shape they take when the word ‘sorry’ spills from his lips.

It’s another crucio to the heart when his eyes drag over Lavender appreciatively, lingering on her chest. He reaches a hand up to toy with her hair, blonde tresses tangling over the dark skin of his hand, and Hermione can’t watch anymore.

Her eyes catch on a pair of steely greys, her humiliation rampant and knowing he’s laughing at her. That they’re all laughing at her.

She backs away, nearly tripping as she bumps into Susan Bones, causing her books to spill onto the floor. Apologising profusely, she continues to back away, not even bothering to lean down and help Susan pick up the things Hermione caused her to drop.

Without another look or word, she dashes out of the Great Hall. She doesn’t even bother grabbing her bag, knowing Ginny or one of the other girls will bring it to her. Instead, she runs all the way to her room, throwing herself in her bed, and locking the curtains around her.

***

“Forget him, Hermione,” Ginny calls from outside Hermione’s bed.

“You’re too good for him. He’s nothing but a dumb jock.” Lavender’s voice soothes. Hermione flinches at the pity in her tone.

A laugh of incredulity bubbles from Hermione’s lips. If he were just a dumb jock it would be different. She’s used to dumb jocks: see ex number one (Viktor) and number two (Ron).

But Blaise is different. He’s quick, sharp. Yes, he’s a jock; she’s admired him during quidditch practises, flying around shirtless, broad chest shiny with sweat. But more than that, he’s been kind to her in classes, even when they had to partner up. He didn’t use her for her brain; he’s brilliant all on his own. He was easy to talk to, until she became besotted with him, anyway.

And now she doesn’t even want to think about being in the same room as him. She’s mortified.

Yanking open her curtains, she stares at her three friends standing outside, looking sheepish. “Why don’t you date him? He seemed pretty interested, just like every other boy in our year.” She looks at the blonde pointedly.

It’s a low blow, she knows that. It’s not Lavender’s fault what happened with Ron in sixth year. But it’s a bruise that Blaise unknowingly pressed. It’s left Hermione feeling raw. Will no one want her? Do they all want the loud, fun blonde with the big boobs?

Who is she kidding? Of course they do. They’re teenage boys.

“Well, what you missed after you ran out of the Great Hall was me slapping his hand away and calling him a pig. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Her anger dissipates. “Thanks,” Hermione whispers. 

She wants to know but she’s too scared to ask about the rest of the Slytherins and how they reacted to Hermione’s embarrassment. Is she going to have to endure them making fun of her for the rest of the year?

She can’t get those silver eyes out of her mind, the way he looked at her as if watching her reaction. As if wanting to see her embarrassment unfold in real time.

Before she has a chance to ask, there’s a knock on their dormitory window.

A brown owl holds a package in his talon. Lavender rushes over to the window to let the owl inside. She grabs the package from its claw and steals one of Hermione’s owl treats as payment.

Seemingly moving past, or already forgetting entirely about Hermione’s crisis, Lavender wiggles her brows and tears open the package. “It’s gametime, girls.”

Dumping the contents on her own bed, Lavender inspects the content of the bag. Two pieces of parchment, what looks like a large compact, and…a snitch?

Loving the attention, Lavender clears her throat and reads them the parchment. “Once you turn on the device, it's on for good. Use it to record your dares. They will be automatically uploaded in real time to the wizarding web.”

Damn. Hermione wonders if a muggleborn was able to figure out that level of technology for this game. Which further makes her wonder who created this game and why?

“Is that really what they mean? Once you turn it on, you can’t turn it off.” Hermione’s eyes go wide. “They’ll see everything.”

“Yeah, that’s the point,” Lavender winks. “The more they see of you, the more dares you’ll get, and the more money you’ll get.”

“How…” She can feel Lavender’s irritation filling the room. “How do the videos get uploaded in real time?” She’s not critiquing the game this time, at least. She’s simply curious about how it works.

Still, the blonde sighs. “I don’t know, Hermione. It’s magic.”

Hermione doesn’t argue further, doesn’t bother to tell her friend that when she’s doing something private that she should be careful about where her device is located. Lav won’t listen to her anyway, that much is clear.

Lavender picks up the snitch and when she does, Hermione sees the lens of the camera. Its wings pop out and she realises that is how the device will follow her friend around and record everything.

“I wonder if this… oh.” Lavender opens what Hermione thought was a compact but she can see the side of Lavender’s head from where the snitch is pointing at her.

It looks like something the neighbor boys used to play games on when Hermione was a kid. Opening up the plastic square, the top half has a screen and the bottom half has a series of buttons.

Again, she wonders if, whoever created Nerve, is a muggle or half-blood, adapting muggle technology into the magical world.

“To keep an eye on the competition,” Lavender reads.

Pressing one of the buttons, the camera angle disappears and gets replaced with a list of names.

“These must be the people who are playing.” She scrolls through, listing them off one by one. “Lavender Brown,” she says with a curtsey. “Seamus Finnegan, Luna Lovegood, Ernie Macmillan, Theodore Nott—”

“Wait, Luna signed up!?” Hermione asks.

“Apparently. Oh! Susan Bones just joined. This must be updated in real time too.”

The second piece of parchment is in its own envelope with script on the front reading Lavender’s name.

“I think this is my first dare.” No nerves coat her tongue, instead raw excitement seeps into the room as Lavender rips open the envelope. “Stand on the Gryffindor table tonight at dinner and announce your love for Dean Thomas.”

The other three girls squeal and laugh. “But Dean’s with Seamus now.” The words burst from Hermione’s lips before she can even think about stopping them.

Lavender rolls her eyes. “It doesn’t matter. It’s just a dare.” She sighs. “You don’t need to understand, but this is fun for me…and for people like Blaise.”

Her mouth falls open at the obvious implication. “So, this is my fault? Because I’d rather read a book than embarrass myself? But that doesn’t matter, does it? You already did it for me.” Her chest grows warm, the flush spreading up and over her cheeks.

“I’m sorry, Mi. I am. But you’re too good for him, and now you know he’s a prick.” Lav reaches her hand out to take Hermione’s, but she pulls away, drawing her hands into the sleeves of her jumper. With a sigh, Lavender shakes her head. “Alright. I’ll see you in potions. And Hermione, I hope you come to dinner. I could use your support.”

With that, Lavender and Parvati leave. Hermione lies back on her bed and Ginny joins her, laying down beside her.

“Screw her,” Ginny whispers. “Not everyone needs to play the game.”

Hermione sits up and looks over at her friend. “You don’t think I could do it? You don’t think I could hop up on a table and confess my love for, I don’t know, Crabbe or Goyle or someone?”

Ginny sits up, shrugging. “It doesn’t matter, ‘Mione. It’s not you. And your real friends like you for who you are, not the act you portray to the world.” The redhead bumps her shoulder into Hermione’s. 

“And who am I, Gin? Someone safe, boring? I overthink, I overplan. I’m indecisive because I’m too busy searching for every possible outcome and weighing every choice.”

“No, you’re smart and meticulous.”

“But I’m not fun. I don’t take risks in my personal life.”

Forgetting the fact that she’s a war heroine because apparently she’s the only one who remembers anyway.

Hermione lets out a harsh, emotionless laugh. “And yet it’ll never be enough, will it?” she mumbles to herself. Hopping off her bed, she moves toward Lavender’s bed and grabs the discarded bookbag sitting on the floor.

“You’ve taken enough risks. Safe doesn’t mean boring. Just because you’re not Lavender—” She stops mid-sentence. “Hermione, what are you doing?”

Not answering, she continues to rifle through Lavender’s things until she finds the piece of parchment she’s looking for. At the top of the sheet, in all capital letters, it says NERVE. In faded ink below, she can see Lavender’s name, etched into the parchment, swallowed up and raised like a fresh tattoo.

Beneath it, in hasty scrawl, Hermione adds her name.

Chapter 2

Fuck. This. Game.

Hermione stares down at the parchment, her first dare glaring up at her like a monster from her nightmares. Large, imposing, stagnant. Glowering up at her so every time she closes her eyes she sees the words clear in her mind, haunting her.

Kiss your lab partner in the middle of class.

Her lab partner this entire year has been Blaise Zabini. The root of her infatuation with him started from watching the way his deft fingers brewed draught of living death so impeccably. There’s no way in hell she is going to partner with him again today, let alone kiss him after what happened during lunch.

Lucky for her, the dare only says to kiss her lab partner. It doesn’t say she needs to kiss Blaise specifically.

She almost wishes Ron came back to Hogwarts right now. Almost. At least she’s already kissed him so she could use him for the dare.

Not that she would want to give him any reason to believe they’ll get back together. But if he were here, he’d probably play Nerve too and then he’d at least understand.

But he’s not here, which means…

Panic courses through her as she mentally runs through her classmates. Gryffindors have potions with the Slytherins, which doesn’t leave her many options. Plus, she’s not sure many people will be willing to switch lab partners at the end of the year.

But dare or not, there’s no way in hell she’s going to kiss Blaise. She can opt out of the game early, she supposes…but doesn’t that prove Lavender’s point? That Hermione’s not cut out for this. She can’t even give Blaise a quick kiss.

No, that’s it. She’s determined. All she has to do is get through potions and then it’s the weekend. She can go to dinner, support Lavender in this stupid game, and show her friend that she’s not afraid of a little dare.

But seriously, fuck this game.

Grabbing her bag, Hermione leaves her room and heads to the dungeons on a jog. She’s spent too much time worrying about her dare that now she’s going to be late to class.

She’s panting, which she absolutely doesn’t need right now since she has to walk through that door and kiss her crush who admitted in front of the entire school that he’s not into her with a brief, painful shake of his head.

Quickly, she pulls her ChapStick from her bag. If she’s going to be panting, the least she can do is not have dry, cracked lips during their first—and surely only—kiss.

Since she’s late, she needs to rush to her seat, but when she pulls open the door to the potions classroom, her usual seat is already taken by Theo Nott. That’s probably for the best, she thinks.

Hesitating, her gaze darts around the room until she finds the only empty seat left in the classroom.

Right now, Hermione would give just about anything to go back to five minutes ago when she was worried she was going to have to kiss Blaise Zabini in front of all her peers after he rejected her.

No, this …this is so much worse, because the only seat left in the classroom is the one next to Draco Malfoy.

He’s different this year, Hermione can admit. The war changed him, changed all of them. He’s nearly the same as he was in sixth year, just without the threat of death looming over him. He’s quiet, contemplative. He focuses on his classwork and doesn’t showboat in the way he used to.

House arrest, court-ordered mind healing, and a forced return to Hogwarts will do that to a person, Hermione presumes.

He also apologised over the summer with handwritten notes to Hermione, Harry, Luna, and maybe most-deserving, Katie Bell. (Ron’s name is noticeably missing from the list. The rivalry between the Malfoys and Weasleys runs too deep and none of them would forgive him anyway).

Despite their complete indifference to one another now, that doesn’t mean Hermione wants to be lab partners with the guy, no matter how good he is at Potions. 

No matter how many times he bests her score and they go back and forth holding the top marks in their year.

It especially doesn’t mean she wants to embarrass herself by kissing him.

Apologising for his part in the war was one thing, but there is still years of trauma between her and Malfoy, years of bullying and hatred spewed that she can’t forget. Mocking words full of loathing and disgust directed at her.

Oh, hi, Malfoy. I know we haven’t spoken much this year, but would you mind if I just… lay one on you real quick? Hermione grimaces. He’ll probably hex her.

On legs that seem to not want to bend, she forces her way into the classroom, near-stumbling onto her stool as she places her bag on the ground. It wasn’t exactly the soundless, sly entrance she was hoping for. The stool scrapes on the ground and everyone turns to look at her.

Everyone except for her brand new potions partner. 

Avada me now, she thinks.

Lavender’s brows pull together. ‘You okay?’ she mouths.

Hermione nods, forcing a disingenuous smile. Her nerves are rattling inside her, her heart thumping painfully, her palms sweaty.

Sneaking a look out of the corner of her eye, she focuses on the wizard beside her. His icy blond hair so perfectly messy in a way that always works for him. He’s filled out since the war, not nearly as thin and gaunt now that his master isn’t lording over him and threatening his life daily.

But that mouth, the one she apparently needs to kiss sometime over the next ninety minutes, that’s what her gaze snags on. His cocksure smirk she could handle. The way his mouth would turn down at the corner as he concentrated, that look would be preferred. A grin that would spread wide after a Quidditch win—well, that’s more of a dream. Certainly not a look that Draco Malfoy would ever direct at her.

But this…the look of pure, unadulterated disdain hardening his mouth is more than Hermione can take. How is she meant to just… kiss him, assault him, in the middle of class when the mere thought of her sitting beside him has him looking like that. He’s furious. Eyes hard, jaw clenched.

Looking around the room, her eyes find Blaise and Theo looking back at the pair of them. Blaise, at least, has the decency to look apologetic. Theo, on the other hand, is barely containing his laughter.

So this was all a fucking ploy. They had to further her embarrassment. It’s not like they had any idea what her dare would be, right? Or did they? Who started this game? Lavender mentioned that there would be watchers, people throughout the castle, their own classmates, who are watching them at all times. Did they plan this? Did they know she’d have to kiss her potions partner? Fuck. Did they choose this dare for her? 

Surely, her life is just one big joke to them anyway. Why not throw Malfoy into the mix to further her embarrassment.

It doesn’t get easier when she realises they’re brewing Amortentia today in class. She really does not need to kiss her childhood bully while smelling hints of his best friend.

Has she said fuck this game recently?

Staring at the cauldron, a thought blossoms. Maybe she should slip him some Amortentia. At least it would erase the look of contempt colouring his features.  At this point, Azkaban is preferable over being rejected by yet another Slytherin in the span of two hours.

She flinches and shakes her head, horrified by her own thoughts. No, Merlin, that’s insane. This game is already making her crazy.

“Will you stop that?”

Snapping out of her thoughts, Hermione glances over at her lab partner, his words hushed but sharp as silver eyes glare at her. “What?”

“Your quill. It’s bloody annoying.”

She freezes as she realises she’s been anxiously tapping her quill nearly this entire time, the ink splotching all over her parchment. She drops the utensil and curls her hands into her lap until they’re ready to start brewing.

When Professor Slughorn tells them to begin, Hermione starts warming the water in her cauldron. Every few seconds, she glances over at Malfoy. Should she just do it now? Should she just get it over with?

“Granger.” Her name coming from his mouth startles her, and she hates that she can’t get a read on his tone. “Why do you keep staring at me?” Malfoy finally asks as he puts the cover on his cauldron to simmer.

It’s now or never. Glancing around, she doesn’t spot Slughorn at all. He’s probably up in the office sleeping or eating or being blissfully unaware of the embarrassment that’s about to drown Hermione.

Reaching into her bag, she grabs the snitch camera and finally, she turns it on.

Malfoy’s brows shoot to his forehead and he almost looks…impressed? Maybe it’s just his look of surprise. Surely nothing Hermione could do would ever impress the pureblood beside her.

“You’re playing Nerve. Really?” The drawl of the words convey his disbelief.

“Don’t sound so surprised.” She really is a boring swot to everyone, isn’t she? She knew that, but the thought still grates on her. She’s a war heroine, dammit! She’s done a hell of a lot more than just stick her nose in textbooks.

And those books have saved her life a time or two, and the wizarding world, thank you very much.

Clearing her throat, she sets the camera on the table to face her.

“And what is Hermione Granger’s first dare?” Malfoy asks, his voice low as he leans into her. She can’t help her shiver as his breath ghosts over her ear, talking low as if he doesn’t want anyone else to hear what they’re talking about. Part of the rules, she supposes. The professors can’t find out.

“This.” Before she can talk herself out of it, she spins to face her lab partner. She doesn’t look around the room, can’t bear to know if anyone is witnessing this moment. Luckily for her, Malfoy is sitting on his stool because even with her standing, she needs to push up onto her toes to reach his mouth.

Her hands balance on his chest, supporting her quick movement. Her eyes close, not wanting to see the look of horror or disgust gracing Malfoy’s features as she leans in and kisses him.

She expects it to be over in a blink. She doesn’t expect him to react, and she certainly doesn’t expect the way his hands fall to her waist.

Draco Malfoy’s lips are soft and sure, confident. Somehow, he’s not even taken aback by Hermione kissing him, as if this is natural and they’ve been doing it all along.

It’s when the whispers turn to shrieks that she finally pulls away. Everyone is looking at them, staring, gawking. Her eyes land on Lavender and her friend’s blue eyes are hard, her mouth open in shock.

Sitting back on her stool, she finally risks a look at her partner. Malfoy’s eyes are dark, his jaw set. His lips…those damn soft lips are wet, a remnant from her? Or did he poke his tongue out to wet them, ridding them of her…or searching for one last taste?

Her brows furrow. Where did that thought even come from?

She doesn’t know, can’t reconcile it even in her own mind. She turns back to her potion as her classmates jeer and whisper, the heavy weight of their stares bearing down on her.

What’s worse, when she lifts the lid on her Amortentia, the usual scents accost her: parchment, fresh coffee, and oak soaked in red wine. Blaise.

And Hermione had just kissed his best friend.

Through the curtain of her hair, she risks a glance up at her usual lab bench where Blaise is sitting with Theo.

The curly-haired Slytherin is staring right at them, ribbing Blaise and laughing as mischief dances in his green gaze. Blaise, however... Tall, dark, and stoic to a T. His brown eyes are soft, both confused and laced with a nauseating pity.

Hermione looks away, wills her potion to smell like anything else. Her cat, perhaps. Her mother’s perfume or her father’s amber scotch.

Instead, all she can do is slam the lid back on her cauldron.

***

“What the hell was that?” Lavender’s shrill voice echoes in the dungeons outside of the potions classroom.

Hermione tried to scurry out of class before anyone could say anything, but of course her roommate had to catch up to her immediately.

As the rest of the Gryffindors and Slytherins leave the Potions classroom, they whisper and murmur about Hermione, eyes darting in her direction.

‘Can you believe she’s playing Nerve?’

‘Whoever made her kiss Malfoy is fucking hilarious.’

‘I’m sure he’s off sanitising his mouth as we speak.’ Hermione could recognise the bitchy tone of Pansy Parkinson’s voice a mile away in the echoing dungeons—it helps that she didn’t bother to lower her voice as she said it either.

Neville darts by her, eyes downcast and cheeks pink, with Dean and Seamus as his side. Seamus lets out a low whistle and Dean can barely contain his laughter as he drags his boyfriend away.

Hermione’s eyes pull away from her classmates and catch on a different blond than the one in front of her. Malfoy leans against the stone wall, looking right at her as if waiting for her. A dark brow is arched toward his hairline, that familiar smirk tugging at his lips. She doesn’t miss the way his eyes trail over her—

“Hermione!” Lavender snaps in front of her face, redrawing her attention.

“Sorry. What?”

Lavender looks over her shoulder, spotting Malfoy’s casual stance. “Really? So, since Blaise wasn’t interested you move on to his friend? Isn’t that a little…sixth year of you?”

Hermione rolls her eyes. “It was a dare.” She shows the fellow Gryffindor the parchment with her dare written out.

“A dare. What, are you playing Nerve now?”

Hermione shifts on her feet, readjusting her backpack on her shoulder. “I thought I’d do one dare, just to prove that I could.” She lifts her chin, not sure how she expects Lavender to react.

Of course, her friend reaches out, her finger twirling around one of Hermione’s curls. A soft grin graces her shiny pink lips. “I’m proud of you, Mi. I’m sure that wasn’t easy for you.”

Hermione can’t help it, she snorts. “You have no idea,” she grumbles.

“At least it was just a kiss. I’ve seen some of the dares people can get.” She blows out a heavy breath as she shakes her head. “I am not looking forward to that.” Then she grins. “It’s good you got that out of your system. But either way, Mi, only one person can win Nerve and get the grand prize and we both know it was  never going to be you.” She pats her on the shoulder condescendingly. “Might as well get out while you’re ahead.” Dropping her hand, she grins and tosses Hermione a wink. “You’ll be at dinner later, right? So you can see how the real players do it.”

Hermione grits her teeth. The nerve of Lavender—no pun intended. If anything, the insinuation that she’s not a real player lights a fire under her. At the very least, she can see what her next dare is, right? And if it’s something insane she can drop out. It’s not about the money for Hermione. It’s about proving everyone wrong.

Maybe she could even win. She suppresses a snort. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

With a fake grin, she tells her roommate, “I’m right behind you.”

Lavender hurries away, probably to meet up with Padma and Parvati before dinner.

“With friends like those…” Malfoy pushes off the wall to saunter toward her.

“Who needs you?” Hermione says, finishing his sentence.

“Funny. But it seems you do need me.”

Hermione sighs. “I’m tired, Malfoy. What are you talking about?”

He lifts his hand in front of her face, a tiny envelope dangling between his index and middle fingers. “I got this.”

“Is that—” She reaches for it and he pulls it out of her reach. “You’re playing Nerve?”

He cocks his head to the side, studying her. Those silver eyes slowly dragging over her enough to make her shift on her feet. “Of the two of us I’d have thought you least likely.”

She crosses her arms over her chest. “So why are you telling me this?”

Opening the envelope, Malfoy reads off his dare. “Go to Knockturn Alley.”

She waits. “That still doesn’t—”

“With Hermione Granger.”

Her mouth falls open. “What?” She barely breathes out the word.

“It seems the powers that be like us together.” He grits the word out, and she imagines it’s painful to him, being forced to spend time with her.

She lifts her chin, defiant. “Well, you don’t need to complete your dare. You can quit. It’s not like you need any more galleons in your vault.”

“You might want to read the envelope, Granger.” He holds it out to her and she stares at it as if touching it will send a jolt of cruciatus up her arm. Rolling his eyes, he turns the envelope over so she can see for herself.

The words she sees on there have her snatching the paper from his hand. “It’s addressed to both of us?”

“If you don’t go, you both lose,” he reads off the back of the placard. “I suppose this is your dare too.”

A noise of disbelief leaves her lips. “Well, when are we supposed to go? If it doesn’t say a time, we could—”

“Tonight. During dinner.” He shows her the back of the card with the extra instructions.

The creators of the game really do have a sick and twisted sense of humour. Now she needs to go to Knockturn Alley of all places, with Draco Malfoy of all people, over dinner, when Lavender is doing her dare.

If she doesn’t go, she’ll never hear the end of it from her roommate.

But if she goes, maybe in some weird way, she’ll earn Lavender’s respect.

Malfoy looks at her, head cocked. “What do you say, Granger? You in?”

Notes:

thank you to my beta ann for keeping my sane and answering all my grammar and last minute questions :) lymi

Chapter 3

“Well, we’re here. Now what?” Hermione wraps her arms tight around her frame, the cool April air chilling with the sunset. It seems as though everywhere she looks is doused in shadow, the entirety of Knockturn Alley, really. She turns to look at Malfoy who’s staring down at the dare in his hand.

The pair of them stick out like a troll in the dungeon, both of them looking wildly out of place as they walk along the cobblestones in their Hogwarts uniforms. Neither of them took a moment to change clothes before embarking on their dare.

“I was checking to see if it said anything else when—” He shows her the card and she reads along as new directions appear. “Go to this address.” He cocks his head to the side. “Shall we?”

Hermione hesitates on her feet. Her teeth find her bottom lip as she debates. It was one thing to come here with him, but to go to some mystery address? Who knows what they have in store for her. This could all be some kind of trap.

“It’s just an address, Granger.”

“It—” She feels silly even saying it. A trap. But she is well known and people do still hold a grudge against her, war heroine and muggleborn. The people whose allegiances lay with the wrong side of the war, who may not have committed crimes and may instead still be around, in Knockturn Alley specifically. “I don’t know.”

“If you’re uncomfortable, we can leave.” His lips twitch as he looks at her. “You do kind of owe me, however.”

She halts, her feet skittering on the cobblestones. “Owe you? For what?”

“For kissing me. I didn’t exactly ask for it, Granger.” He bites his lip as if to keep his grin at bay.

Her mouth falls open. “You didn’t exactly push me away, either,” she retorts.

His eyes go wide with faux innocence. “I froze. You could’ve hurt me, for all I knew.”

“Hurt you!?”

He grins, breaking and finally laughing at her. “Come on, Granger. Are you scared?” 

Is she? Not of him, she supposes. He probably won’t hurt her. Then again, it’s not like anyone knows she’s with him. Merlin, was it just a few hours ago she was chastising Lavender for coming to Knockturn Alley and now here she is, with Draco Malfoy no less?

She’s come this far. She may as well commit. “Fine. Let’s go.”

They walk side-by-side to the address on the card, Hermione’s arms wrapped around herself as if shielding her body from unwanted attention. Their cameras flutter behind them, hovering in the air and following their every move. Remembering they’re being recorded brings her an odd sense of peace. Surely, the game won’t lead her to a trap when it’s being broadcast for everyone to see.

After a few minutes, Draco stops.

Following suit, Hermione pauses. When she looks up, the first thing she spots is the neon sign. “No. Absolutely not.” The six letter word above her has Hermione shaking her head in defiance.

“You don’t even know what the dare is yet.”

“It clearly has something to do with tattoos, Malfoy.” She points up at the neon sign and in her pocket, her own card burns against her thigh, reminiscent of the protean charmed coins.

She pulls out her dare card and sure enough, the words unfold before her. “Let Draco choose your tattoo.” She nearly drops the card. “This has to be a joke.”

Malfoy’s smirk is wicked. “Oh, I have the perfect idea.”

“I haven’t agreed to this!” Hermione shrieks. “I’ve never even heard of this shop. What if they use old needles or they don’t do good work.”

“They’ve gotta be better than my guy.” Draco taps his forearm, one eyebrow cocked.

Right. Voldemort. The Dark Mark. “Funny,” Hermione deadpans.

“Come on. We’ve made it this far.”

“Is that how you plan on baiting me this entire time?”

“Is it working?”

She doesn’t want to admit that in a way, it kind of is. However, it has less to do with the wizard in front of her and more to do with her. She’s always done what she’s had to do, but she never got the time to explore the things she might want.

The bravery she displayed during the war was never a thought nor an option. It just… was. She needed to fight in order to survive. She never got a chance to sit back and explore who she is, or who she could be.

Does she want a tattoo? Does she want to kiss a boy in front of all of her classmates? Does she want to leave the castle with a boy she thought of as off-limits for years?

She doesn’t know… but maybe it’s time for her to find out. She’s never done anything like this before. She can see how people get addicted to this kind of thing, the rush, the adrenaline, the unexpected. It’s thrilling in a safe way.

“I’ve never even thought about getting a tattoo.” She bites her lip.

“Now you don’t have to. Leave all the thinking to me.” He grabs the handle on the door, waiting for her cue to head inside.

Taking a deep breath, she nods once. This is absolutely mad. If only Lavender could see her now… The thought has a grin blooming on her face.

The snitch camera buzzes beside her ear, a reminder that Lavender could see Hermione right now if she wanted. But her roommate is probably too self-absorbed in her own dare to check up on anyone else. Plus, Lavender told Hermione it was time to drop out. Surely, Hermione Granger would listen to the words of her friend, right?

With determination in her veins, Hermione takes a deep breath and meets Draco’s eye. Wordlessly, he pulls open the door and lets her walk in first. They head to the counter and some big guy stands behind a desk, covered nearly head to toe in tattoos.

“Malfoy. Ready for the next instalment?”

Draco shakes his head as Hermione glances over at  him curiously. “Nah, not here for me, Jett. My…friend here is ready for some ink.”

“Oh yeah? What are you thinking?” The artist, Jett, turns to address Hermione. Clearly Draco knows this man, which Hermione makes a mental note to ask him about later.

“It’s his call, actually.” Hermione motions to her former nemesis.

Draco grins wickedly. Nerves or… something flutters in her belly at his expression.

“Can I at least make some ground rules?” Hermione asks. “Since it’s going to be on my body for the rest of my life. No dementors or clowns. I don’t want words that people are going to read off of me like I’m a newspaper.”

“Don’t worry, Granger. I got this.” Turning back to Jett, Draco asks, “Do you have a quill and some parchment?”

After Jett supplies a thin-tipped quill and a sheet of parchment, Draco leans over the counter and starts sketching something onto the page.

“What are you drawing?” Hermione presses up onto her tiptoes to try and sneak a peek.

“No looking.”

“What!? It’s my—”

“Just trust me, Granger, okay?” His eyes are soft, pleading. The set of his mouth and look in his eye has Hermione pausing, like if she tells him no he might actually break.

She lets out a heavy exhale. “Okay.”

After a few minutes, Draco sits up. “Done.”

“This it?” Jett asks, to which Draco nods.

“Can I see it now?” Hermione asks.

“Not til it’s done.”

Her voice nearly breaks on her shriek of disbelief.

“I’ll let you decide where to put it. It’s about the size of a sugar quill. Without the stick,” he clarifies.

“Merlin,” she mutters. She looks down, silently canvassing her body. Arm is too visible. She doesn’t think she wants it on her legs. Maybe her shoulder? But if it’s that long… “Here.” She rubs her hand over her ribs on her side just beside her right breast.

“Are you sure? Ribs are painful for most people,” Jett warns her. “Especially for your first time.”

Hermione snorts. A twinkling chandelier assaults her memory, nerve endings firing and burning, rancid breath and a slice of a knife. She’s been through worse. “I’m sure. I can handle it.”

Jett leads her through the shop to the back room separated from the front by a floor-length black curtain.

“I’ll wait out here,” Draco says, shoving his hands into his pockets.

While she’s not sure she fully trusts Malfoy, she certainly doesn’t want to be left alone with this Jett character whom she’d just met.

“Just come back. If it hurts as bad as he says I might need your hand.”

“You wanna hold my hand, Granger?”

She grins at him sweetly. “I’m hoping if I squeeze hard enough I might break it.”

Malfoy chuckles, shaking his head, and follows her through the curtain at the back of the shop.

Tapping on a black bench in the room, Jett tells her, “I’ll have you lay down on your side and reach your arm over your head.” Hermione moves to sit on the bench and get into position when he stops her. “You’ll have to take your shirt off. Bra too, if you’re wearing one.”

Hermione eyes dart to Draco. Maybe she shouldn’t have invited him back here with her. Then again, all the more reason to have a… familiar face if she’s going to be half-naked with a stranger.

She could change her mind, maybe get the tattoo on her shoulder. But even for that, she assumes, she’d need to take her shirt off. Might as well just get it where she wants it.

Spinning around, she faces the wall away from prying eyes. The camera hovers in front of her, watching her. With narrowed eyes she snags it out of thin air and passes it back to Draco.

“Hold this, will you?”

Without another word, she faces the wall once more and tugs her jumper over her head and places it on the bench. Next, she works the buttons of her Oxford shirt, slipping them through the fabric with shaky fingers. She drops it on the tattoo bench with her jumper before reaching behind her back and working open the clasp of her bra.

She doesn’t glance over her shoulder, not even once, despite the skin on her back burning with an imagined weight of a silver stare. She can’t bear to sneak a glance and find out if he’s watching her or not. Part of her isn’t sure what would be worse, if he was watching her, even as her back is turned, demanding privacy…or if he wasn’t, if he looked away, too disgusted by the thought of her to even chance a glance at her bare skin.

When she’s finished, she buries her bra under her shirt, hiding it away from the other men in the shop and shoving both items into her bag. Keeping one arm banded across her chest, she clumsily climbs onto the work bench and lies down. Her right arm is extended above her head and she uses her jumper in front of her body, bunched to cover her chest. She leaves one arm of her jumper over her breasts, holding the fabric against her skin to keep herself covered. The sleeve hangs over her side, making sure nothing is exposed.

“All set.” Her voice is a cracked whisper permeating the quiet space. Finally, she glances over her shoulder, spotting Malfoy still facing her but silver eyes hard, pinned on the wall over her head.

That’s probably for the best.

The tattoo artist finishes setting up and slides over on a wheeled stool to sit beside her. “This is gonna have to move.” He lifts the opening of her jumper sleeve that’s dangling over her ribs.

Her cheeks heat as she clears her throat and tugs the fabric away so all that’s left is the cotton under her hand, obscuring her nipple.

Jett explains the process briefly before he sanitises the area and lays the stencil. Much to Hermione’s disappointment, in this position, she still can’t see what Draco chose to get tattooed on her.

“It better not be a knitted hat or S.P.E.W. or anything related to calling me a swot or the golden girl,” she spits out hastily.

“It’s not. Trust me.” Trust him. Trust Draco Malfoy.

In no universe did Hermione ever imagine she’d be teaming up with Draco to play a high-stakes game of truth or dare, where she’d sit with him in a tattoo parlour half naked after he drew her a tattoo. If she woke up tomorrow and the last eight years of her life had all been an elaborate dream, well, that would be easier to believe than this.

“You ready?” Jett asks.

“I guess.”

The buzz of the needle fills the room and Hermione flinches in response.

“Get it out of your system now. You can’t be squirming when I’m tattooing ya.”

She clears her throat. “Right. Sorry.” She takes a deep breath as Jett places his gloved hand on her skin and positions the needle.

As soon as it pierces her skin, however, she learns she was right. This feeling is nothing compared to what she’d endured during the war.

Dolohov’s curse that ripped through her chest was five times worse. Bellatrix’s blade that carved into her skin was infinitely more painful, both physically and the emotional scarring that accompanied it. Compared to the fear that Harry had died and Voldemort won the war? This tattoo was like a brush of Crookshanks’ fur against her leg.

She’d survived much, much worse.

“You doin’ okay?”

Hermione nods then realises the man can’t exactly look away from where he’s tattooing her. “I’m good,” she verbalises. It stings like a bee, and the vibration over her ribs is a pinch of discomfort, but it’s nothing she can’t handle.

“Malfoy, wanna try?”

“What?” Hermione and Draco ask at once. She’d nearly sat up, but thought better of it at the last second, not wanting to ruin her tattoo or mess up the artist.

“Come here. Give it a shot. Nothing like tattooing your girl, right?”

“Oh, we’re not—” Draco hesitates, warring over the decision.

“It’s fine, Malfoy.” Hermione swallows thickly. In for a knut, in for a galleon.

“Are you sure?” His tone is full of incredulity.

“We’ve come this far,” she says, using his own words against him.

Clearing his throat, he approaches. Hermione looks as much as she can over her shoulder, watching Jett move out of the way and pass the machine to Malfoy.

“It’s a magical needle. It’ll guide you. Just hold her side, press your foot down on the pedal, and start.”

Silver eyes meet her frozen, amber gaze. He licks his lips, pink tongue darting out nervously. Hermione nods before lying back down, facing the wall once more.

Hermione inhales sharply as a cool hand closes over hers, long fingers overlapping. If her hand wasn’t there he’d be touching her breast.

His cool touch is a salve to the pain radiating under the slice of the needle.

The buzz of the machine starts up again and if she could ever feel the needle before, she completely blocks it out now. All she can feel is his hand, fingers holding her skin taut, the slide of them as they reposition, holding her in place.

The needle seemingly drags across her skin as Draco Malfoy tattoos his artwork onto her. He leans over her, concentrating. Every time he pauses, a puff of his breath blows over the tender skin, like he’s holding his breath every time the needle pierces her.

After what feels like an eternity, he backs away. “You should finish up.” The stool shifts, a slight squeak as the men switch positions.

The machine starts up and stays on for a few minutes as Jett seems to finish off her tattoo. Before she knows it, he says, “All done. Take a look.” The stool rolls away and Hermione is urged to sit up.

She does so unsteadily, trying her best to stay covered as she shifts to sitting up. Her legs dangle over the bench as she sits facing the wall. There’s a mirror off to her left. Keeping her shirt and arm banded over her chest, she hops off the bench to check out her new ink.

She doesn’t look at the wizards behind her, but she feels them tracking her every move, waiting for her feedback.

In front of the mirror, she turns to the side and lifts her arm. Her brows furrow gently, her mouth parting in surprise.

“Flowers?” She says and it comes out like a question. She turns around to face Draco, flushing as she confronts him whilst still shirtless, but she’s curious. “Why—”

He shrugs. “Thought they’d look nice.”

“Is that the only reason?” she wonders.

An imperceptible expression flickers over his face, gone too fast for her to decipher the meaning. “They’re just flowers, Granger.”

Turning back to the mirror, Hermione gently trails her fingers over the ink. The tattoo is a bouquet of different types of flowers yet it flows beautifully, like Draco drew it from memory. She can’t identify all of them, but the flowers range in shades of white and blue, her favourite colour. Almost the same colour as…

“But you…you drew this.” She’s amazed. “They’re really good,” she whispers, not looking at the Slytherin behind her. Clearing her throat, she turns back to both of them, eyes darting between her Nerve partner and the artist. “Thank you,” she says in general. “It’s beautiful.” She doesn’t know if she’s talking to Jett or Draco. Perhaps a little bit of both.

The artist goes over care instructions, but since it’s a magical tattoo it doesn’t require much upkeep. They were able to heal her skin right away. “It might just feel like a bruise for a couple of days,” Jett tells her.

Awkwardly, she waits for them to leave the room to redress. The band of her bra rubs against her uncomfortably. Shrinking it, she tosses it into her bag and throws on her shirt and jumper, foregoing the undergarment altogether.

Walking back out to the front of the shop, she stops by the desk, her arms crossed over her chest to mask the fact she’s no longer wearing a bra. “How much do I owe you?”

“It’s taken care of,” Jett tells her.

Her brows furrow, eyes darting to Draco whose expression is flat, unreadable.

Clearing his throat, Jett clarifies. “First time’s free.”

“Oh,” Hermione breathes out. “I feel like I should at least tip you—”

“Tell your friends about me. That’s good enough.” He grins kindly, and Hermione can’t believe she judged him so harshly earlier.

“Okay, well, thank you.”

“See you soon, Malfoy?”

Draco nods and with a hand on her back, leads her out of the shop. The cool air rushes over her skin and Hermione instantly becomes very self-consciously aware that she’s no longer wearing a bra.

She keeps her arms pinned over her chest and clears her throat. “That was—” She doesn’t know what she wants to say. The tattoo is beautiful. She can’t believe he drew it. She can’t believe he chose those shades of blue, ranging from almost a navy to periwinkle…

Before she can figure out how to finish the sentence, something in her pocket starts to burn. She pulls out the envelope as a new dare is being spelled onto the parchment.

“Choose Draco’s next dare.” She flashes him the paper with a wicked grin. This time, she’s the one who gets to ask, “What do you say, Malfoy? You in?”

His wicked smirk is all the answer she needs.

Notes:

sorry this chapter was late!! i was battling demons this week (migraines and a menstral cycle) - continued thanks to ann for being my beta ilu

what do you think Hermione will choose for Draco's dare?

Chapter 4

Notes:

thank you to my beta, as always. this one was one of my favs ;)

Slapping her dare card repeatedly against her hand, Hermione debates where to take Draco. She gets to choose his next dare, and she intends to make it a good one.

Worrying her bottom lip, Hermione weighs her options.

“I don’t like that look on your face.”

She pastes on her most innocent smile. “What look?”

Malfoy narrows his eyes. “At least give me my options. I can see that big brain of yours working overtime.”

Hermione tilts her head, considering. “Well, I could make you kiss your crush,” she offers with a smirk. The thought dawns on her. “Do you like someone?”

He freezes, almost imperceptibly so.

“You do!” She bounces on her toes. “Tell me.”

“No.”

She waves her dare card in his face. “I could make you.”

“You could make me do anything, and you want to waste it on schoolyard gossip?”

Her lips twist. He has a point. What if… oh. Oh. Her entire demeanor brightens instantly.

“Oh, no.” Clearly, he notices the shift.

It’s not surprising, really. Her grin feels feral. “I’ve got it.”

“Let’s go back to the other thing, actually. I’ll tell you who I like.”

She shakes her head. “Nope. Too late, Malfoy. Let’s go.” Without thinking, she grabs his hand and pulls him down one of the alleyways of Knockturn.

“Where are you taking me?” Hermione can’t place if it’s contempt or anxiety in Malfoy’s tone. She finds she rather likes keeping him on his toes.

They zig-zag through the cobblestone streets bisecting Knockturn Alley. Behind them, their video cameras flutter along, capturing every turn, every quip, and every smirk of their journey.

Just like the tattoo parlour, their destination calls to patrons with a neon sign hanging over the doorway to the brick building. In blue lights, the name of the strip club, Evanesco, illuminates the dark alley. The neon lights shine off of Draco’s white-blond hair, turning the strands a bright shade of blue.

“Hermione Granger brought me to a strip club? I’m glad this is being recorded because nobody would believe me.” His lips tug into a shit eating grin.

Hermione grins sweetly, loving the trap Malfoy is walking into. With her hands on his back, she pushes him to the doorway. It’s one of the only times she’s ever touched him, and suddenly she notices how broad his shoulders are and the muscles working under his shirt.

“So what’s my dare, Granger? Get a lap dance? Tip a dancer 500 galleons?”

As they walk into the building, a bouncer waits to check IDs. “You here for the event?”

“We are,” Hermione answers proudly.

“Dancers to the right through the curtain. There’s props too if that’s your thing.” The bouncer nods at them and they pass.

“You gonna dance for me, Granger? Please tell me my dare is to sit back and watch you strip for me.” Draco sounds almost too eager at the thought.

She rolls her eyes at his transparent attempt to bait her. “Wishful thinking, Malfoy.”

“A guy can dream.”

“Well, you are half right.”

His brows arch with interest.

“The club is having an amateur night tonight. But I’m not the dancer.” She pauses, revelling in  the anticipation. “You are.”

A slow grin unfurls on his face. “Oh, so that’s how this is gonna go?”

“Show me what you got, Malfoy. I was half-naked in front of you, now it’s your turn.”

He arches a dark brow. “Are you sure this is how you want to play this, Granger? There’s no going back after this.”

She lifts her chin, her gaze meeting his, taunting him. What’s he going to do about it? “Oh, I’m sure.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He winks at her, his mouth tugging up one side. “Make sure you grab a seat right up front. I wouldn’t want you to miss anything.”

“I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” She walks backwards for two steps until Draco pushes through the curtain to the back to prepare for his stage debut.

True to her word, Hermione finds a seat in the front right along the stage. Outside of one hen do and a seemingly separate stag do, it seems the club doesn’t have a great turn out for amateur night, luckily for her.

“Can I get you something to drink?” A waitress comes up to Hermione, and she nods. Why not?

“I’ll take a vodka soda. Thank you.”

Looking around, Hermione finally takes in the club. The place is dark aside from spotlights shining down on the stage. Behind her is the bar and all along the walls are booths and tables. There’s a second floor that’s roped off, presumably holding the private rooms.

All along the stage are seats where people can watch and tip the dancers in front of them. The entire back wall is curtained off and the stage covers the width of the building. In front of her sits the catwalk the dancers can walk the length of. There’s a pole at the far end of the catwalk and two more poles on either side of the main stage.

Hermione sits back on a laugh, imagining Malfoy twirling around one of the poles. She sets up the cameras, both hers and Draco’s, to capture the entire show whenever he steps out onto the stage. When her drink is delivered she settles in and waits for the show to begin.

***

The first amateur stripper started off strong, Hermione will give the girl that. Definitely someone with the intention of hyping up the crowd. She crawled across the stage, utilised the poles in a very impressive display of strength and got several tips from patrons old enough to be her dad.

But the crowd has grown, more people hovering around the stage. Hermione wonders if Malfoy will even notice her sitting here, and maybe it’s for the best that he doesn’t. While her aim was to embarrass him, she imagines he’ll manage to twist the dare and draw all the attention to her, sneaky Slytherin that he is.

The second person to come out is a drunk guy who pantomimes jerking off before ripping his shirt off and stumbling backstage once more. The third girl is timid in an endearing way. A group of girls in sashes cheer her on from the corner as they cackle and fall all over one another.

As she exits the stage, the lights dim and the club’s emcee pops out on the side stage from behind the heavy curtain. “Alright, give it up for our girl in blue! Next up, ladies we have a gentleman you won’t want to miss.”

Hermione gets comfortable in her seat and takes a sip from her second vodka soda as the lights go down. Music starts to play, a sensual beat drawing every pair of eyes to the stage. The curtain rises slowly, and with every inch that is unveiled Hermione gets a glimpse of the man behind the curtain.

Shiny black dragonhide boots are revealed first, followed by black uniform pants regulated by the Hogwarts school board.

Hermione’s heart thuds in her chest and she finds herself perched on the edge of her chair, getting as close as possible, itching to get a glimpse of who she’s sure is on the other side of the divider.

As the curtain rises, she grows privy to a pair of hands wearing rings, long, deft fingers that equally know their way around a potions lab as well as a quidditch pitch, quick enough to catch a snitch and strong enough to crush a bezoar.

His Slytherin tie is unveiled, which Hermione knows is already hanging loose and messily around his neck. The top two buttons of his shirt are undone and Hermione holds her breath as the last few inches of him are revealed.

She should have anticipated his smirk, surely. The aura of confidence that radiates off of him effortlessly. What she wasn’t prepared for was his eyes, the silver gleaming mischievously in the spotlight.

Throughout it all, music thrums in the background, but Hermione can’t even hear the song over the sound of her heart rattling in her chest. Instantly, Malfoy’s eyes find hers, like he instinctively knew where she’d be.

She swallows thickly as his eyes drag over her, as if she’s the one on stage ready to perform for him and not the other way around. Eyes trained on her, Draco takes his first step toward the catwalk. The women all around her cheer, as do some of the men. Their coins are transfigured to paper money that now litters the stage, tipping Draco in hopes it buys a moment of his attention.

As he walks, he loosens the cufflinks on his shirt and tosses them aside. Hermione imagines the plink of the metal hitting the stage, despite the sound being blocked by hoards of horny women screeching all around her.

Next, Malfoy loses his tie, dropping it carelessly onto the stage. He’s not even looking where he’s going; he’s only focused on her. He has to take a step down from the main stage onto the catwalk and he does it seamlessly, as if he strips for the club regularly. It’s effortless, the way he owns the stage and captivates the audience.

He moves down to his shirt, popping open the buttons and exposing a canvas of pale skin. The shirt parts and Hermione should be embarrassed by the way she devours every fresh inch of exposed flesh.

Draco’s movements are slow and methodical, he’s taking his time, drinking up the attention, though his eyes never stray. Without saying anything, his gaze conveys a lot. A dark, smoldering hunger drawing her in, locking her in place, tempting her. The quirk of his lips taunts her, the curve of his brow daring her to take a look at him.

And fuck, she does.

He’s no longer the scrawny little shit she remembers from earlier years at Hogwarts or the way he looked halfway to death during the war. He’s filled out, broad shoulders tapering down to a trim waist. His sectumsempra scars bisect his chest in a not-unsexy way that Hermione unfortunately notices. A ripple of abs and a delicate V point toward a happy trail that leads…

Draco drops his shirt onto the stage. He’s halfway down the catwalk now, not bothering to stop at the myriad of witches waving their hands at him, vying for his attention.

Hermione, on the other hand, is rattled with nerves at the thought that he’s beelining right for her, dropping articles of clothing in his wake. She’s nearly at the end of the catwalk and if things continue to progress…she can’t think about his state of undress.

Hell, she doesn’t need to think about it. Not when it’s happening right in front of her eyes.

Her gaze travels from his fingers up his left arm where a full tattoo sleeve decorates his skin, a stark contrast to his pale complexion. The dark mark is completely obscured, the snake that used to weave through the skull now slinks amongst a garden, brightly coloured flowers flowing into an emerald green serpent.

His entire arm is decorated. She finds constellations and a moon, a narcissus flower and a dragon all beautifully woven along the piece.

That must’ve been what Jett meant at the tattoo parlour when he asked if Draco was there for him. He’s been covering his Dark Mark, creating flawless art along his skin. Hermione itches to lean in and inspect the ink, to trail her fingers over the details and ask what it all means.

Instead, her eyes are drawn once more to Draco’s hands. Those deft fingers cluttered with rings move toward his belt before he hesitates, realisation stealing his attention away from Hermione.

He stops and the witches and wizards on either side of the catwalk holler at him, throwing their arms out to touch him. Right in the middle of the catwalk, Draco toes off his expensive shoes, kicking them to the side.

With the trance momentarily broken, Hermione realises that at some point she’d leaned in, her hands gripping the sides of the stage. She straightens her back and folds her hands in her lap.

Regaining his confident stride, his hands fall to his belt once more. As he rips open the clasp, the yells grow deafening. Hermione’s breathing goes rapid, her eyes zeroing in on those long, competent fingers grasping at the leather.

Malfoy rips his belt from his trousers, folding it in half once and snapping it together, making the leather smack. Hermione flinches with wide eyes, her lips parting. Beneath her shirt, unencumbered by a bra, her nipples harden, aching peaks pressing against the fabric of her Oxford school shirt.

To her surprise, Draco drops the belt as well, and his hands move to the button of his trousers right as he moves to stand in front of her.

She drags her gaze upward, over his long legs, passing his abs and chest, lingering on his neck and up to meet his eyes. Those silver orbs glint with promise and sin. He winks at her at the same time that his hand rips open the button.

Draco is standing directly in front of Hermione as he opens his trousers and drags the zipper down. Hands on his hips, he lets the fabric fall to the floor, leaving him in black pants and socks.

Draco Malfoy is standing half naked in front of her. She tries not to look, truly, she does. But she can’t fight the way her eyes dip to his briefs, can’t help but notice the way they stretch over him, concealing, or rather trying to conceal what’s barely hidden under the black fabric.

Turning back to face the crowd, Hermoine thinks that’s the end of it. She heaves out a breath, time finally resuming after being trapped in Malfoy’s wicked gaze. Instead, Draco walks the rest of the way to the end of the catwalk and once more, it’s not Hermione’s fault the way her eyes drink down his shapely bum and strong thighs. Thank you, quidditch. Suddenly, she has a newfound appreciation for the sport.

Once he gets to the edge of the stage, instead of stopping, he hops down, right into the crowd. His body moves gracefully, sustaining the slight impact on his socked feet with ease. Women all around him lean forward, hands stretched, desperately aching to graze along his chest, to grab at his arse, to feel the silver of his rings.

Draco, unaffected by the attention, walks around the stage and finds Hermione once more. Somehow, in the last minute, his gaze grew more taunting. Her breath hitches in her throat, pulse fluttering in her veins.

He saunters over to her, black briefs hugging his legs, his bare chest nearly reflecting the spotlights. Where Hermione sits pinned in her chair, Draco struts to her and leans down. His hands box her in, landing on either side of her, grabbing onto the stage holding nearly all of his clothes.

He leans in and Hermione can’t breathe. Is he going to kiss her again? Why does she want him to? She’s affected by his striptease; that she can admit to herself at least. Her gaze is trapped in his and suddenly she yearns to be a Legilimens, to know what he’s thinking, to discover his next move.

His minty breath brushes over her lips and on instinct, her tongue darts out, wetting her lips and nearly capturing his mouth with hers. At the last second he moves, lips grazing by her ear.

“Your move, Granger.”

Chapter 5

Hermione is pretty sure the flush hasn’t left her cheeks from the moment Malfoy stepped onto the stage. Now that she’s outside the club awaiting their next move, Hermione is grateful she can blame the redness of her cheeks on the bite of cool April air.

Still overheated, she throws her hair up messily, pinning it in place with her wand. She had to get out of the club, needed fresh air. She told the bouncer to let Draco know she stepped outside and now she waits, pacing along the cobblestone, anxious about what the rest of the night will bring.

Her heart seizes when the door to Evanesco opens behind her. She spins, eyes wide like a deer caught in neon blue lights.

Draco takes his time looking her over from head to toe. Wind chill or not, his attention isn’t helping the fire spreading over her cheeks or keeping her nipples from pebbling with need.

“Were you feeling warm, Granger?” he asks, a knowing look in his eye.

She glances down, pulling her eyes away from his. Clearing her throat, she passes him his Nerve camera back. “If all else fails I think you have a future here.”

Malfoy’s grin broadens. “I was hoping we could continue. Maybe you’d be next, we could get a private room…”

“Keep dreaming, Malfoy.”

“Oh, I will.” His voice drops, growing hot and raspy until Hermione feels the urge to fan herself.

“Do we have our next dare yet?” They’ve been volleying dares between them. Since Hermione got the dare on her card last time, she assumes Draco will get the next one.

“Not yet.”

“Maybe…” She licks her lips. “Maybe we should start heading back?” It comes out like a question, like she’s unsure if that’s what she wants to do. But it is far to go from Knockturn back to Hogwarts, even with the ability to apparate to Hogsmeade before walking the rest of the way.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Draco nods once. His gaze is heavy on her, flicking from her eyes to her lips, a curious expression dancing across his face. “If that’s what you want.”

She doesn’t know what she wants. This entire day has been intense and confusing. Despite distracting herself with Malfoy all day, she knows the second her head hits the pillow her thoughts and feelings for Blaise will flood back in. She’s still hurt and embarrassed and it’s made her act rashly all day.

She got a tattoo, she watched Draco Malfoy strip, she kissed him.

Hermione needs to think. She needs space before she does something reckless.

Like kiss him again. The thought seemingly comes out of nowhere, and she has to look away.

“I—” Her pocket burns.

With furrowed brows, she reaches in and grabs her dare card. Confess one of your fantasies. She blanches, eyes widening and cheeks reheating instantly. Her eyes dart up to look at Draco where he waits for her to read the card.

“It just says we need to head back to school.” She re-pockets her dare card, turning away from the club and effectively pulling her eyes away from Draco’s suspicious stare.

She turns down the alley toward the apparition point at the corner.

“Alright, Granger.” His long legs catch up to hear easily. “We can head back to school.” They get to the corner and Draco faces her, his hand grasping her elbow to side-along apparate. “But when we get there you’re going to tell me what the card actually says.”

He spins on the spot, taking her with him in a plume of black smoke. In a flash, they land in Hogsmeade. Hermione’s hands clutch at Draco’s biceps as she steadies herself while Draco’s right hand finds its way to her hip, supporting her. His hands flex against her waist before releasing her and he steps back, eyes downcast.

A chill rolls over her, alerting her to her peaked nipples visible under her thin shirt and jumper. Clearing her throat, she steps away from Malfoy and crosses her arms over her chest.

She starts walking toward the path that will lead them to the school. “So, we should get back—”

“What’d your dare card say, Granger?”

“I-I told you what it said,” she stutters and quickens her pace.

He quirks a brow, keeping up with her easily. “I’d have thought you were a better liar than that.”

“I’m not lying.” She scoffs.

“It must be something good,” he muses. “You’re embarrassed.”

“I am not embarrassed—”

“I thought you were a Gryffindor. Brave, courageous—”

“I am a Gryffindor—”

“Well, what could it be?” They forge through the muddy path back to school. “Did they want you to give me a lap dance?”

“Are you mad!?” she shrieks, her voice raising an octave.

“No? Did they want you to streak through Knockturn Alley?”

“I’m not going to dignify you with a response.”

“Not that then.” She feels the weight of his gaze on the side of her face despite refusing to meet his eye. He leans in, his words a whisper amongst the cricket’s chirps. “Did they dare you to fuck me?”

“Merlin, no!” She practically screams, silencing the nature noises around them.

“Would that have been so bad?” His voice is velvet, tempting and taunting all at once. “I think it’d be rather fun, actually.”

Hermione nearly chokes. “Malfoy—”

“You can call me Draco, you know. You’ve practically seen me naked.” He chuckles. “It’s what you wanted, after all.”

“I’m sorry?!”

“The dare. You chose it. You were just dying to get me out of my clothes.” His grin is wolfish.

Her cheeks burn as she looks anywhere but at him. “I was trying to embarrass you,” she argues.

“There’s nothing embarrassing about this body, Granger.” She risks a glance up at him. “Though, you know that by now.” He takes advantage of her attention, winking at her.

“You’re insufferable,” she grumbles.

“Tell me your dare.”

“No.”

He shrugs. “Then I’ll assume the worst. If you insist on kicking us both out of this game—”

She sees the gates of Hogwarts straight ahead, moments away from peace where she can get away from him for the rest of the night at least. For that reason, she finally snaps. She’ll be free of him soon, anyway. “For fuck’s sake, Malfoy! Fine!” She huffs and shoves her hand into her pocket. She pulls out the dare card and passes it to him. “Happy now?” she snaps.

“Oh, I get it.” He nods as they step through the gates to Hogwarts. “I understand now.”

“You understand what?” she asks, taking the bait despite knowing it’s a trap.

“You don’t have any fantasies. That’s why you can’t tell me any.”

“That’s not—”

“Gonna prove me wrong, Granger?” He quirks a brow. That bastard.

They walk into the school and thanks to the late hour, the halls are silent. Hermione doesn’t see a single other student around, no one to save her or distract her that she can latch onto.

“Let me guess.” He stops at the end of the hallway right in front of the library.

Hermione needs to take the stairs to her right to head up to the Gryffindor dorms. Malfoy would need to turn left to head down to the dungeons.

Instead, she waits, inexplicably, to hear what he’s going to say.

He walks backwards, eyes on her, until he reaches the door to the library. He opens it and silently, he tilts his head toward the entrance, a dare of his own making.

Looking around the hallway, Hermione weighs her options. Her heel taps on the ground, begging her to run. She can go upstairs and go to bed and forget this night ever happened, pretend like it never happened. She can give up on the game and still be impressed she played at all. No one thought she would even sign up, let alone make it through multiple rounds.

Or she can walk into the library with Draco Malfoy and hear what he thinks of her.

Ignoring her usual judgment, she beelines for the library, and Draco Malfoy’s answering grin gives her all the confirmation she needs to know she’s willingly stepping into a snake pit. It’s a decision she couldn’t have envisioned herself making even a handful of hours ago, yet it somehow doesn't feel like the wrong one.

Being back in the castle makes her want to prolong the evening, to postpone the inevitable loneliness and embarrassment that will flood her mind when she’s alone in her bed.

This entire day has been an apparition of emotions, twisting and turning her thoughts and feelings upside down. She could use a bit of comfort and familiarity in the one place she can always rely on.

She smiles in spite of herself and brushes past him as he holds open the door for her.

The library is dark, no students around to study this late at night and even Madam Pince has seemingly left by now. The tables are empty, the only light spilling in from the moon outside the high windows and the occasional floating candle.

Hermione wanders into the room. She knows Draco is behind her even if she can’t hear his footsteps. She drags her fingers along the wood of one table before spinning to face the Slytherin prince who lured her here.

Walking backwards, she continues through the tables. She could map out this entire library blindfolded; the thought shivering over her.

He meets her step for step, following her deeper into the stacks, as if the shadows will swallow her and make her forget what they’re actually doing here.

Confess one of your fantasies.

With her back against one stack, she raises her chin, forcing herself to appear confident even as her hands slip against the shelf, slick with nerves. “Well? Let’s hear it then.”

A smirk graces his face as he walks toward her. Malfoy stops in front of her, close enough for her to see the way his pupils are dilated. He leans back against the opposite shelf, appraising her with a slow drag of silver eyes.

He spreads his arms wide. “The library.”

“What?”

He grins, hands shoved back in his pockets. “Tell me you haven’t thought about it.” He cocks his head, reading her. “Maybe you sneak into the restricted section. You have a time you’re meant to meet. Like the swot you are, Madam Pince gave you the password to use at your leisure.” He drops his voice, taking her along on this journey into a fantasy. “You whisper it, afraid someone else will overhear.” He looks from side to side, searching as if he’s about to get caught. The action alone has her heart thumping against her ribs. 

When he speaks again, it’s back at his normal register, though clouded with something thick and silky, like molten chocolate. “With the gate unlocked, you leave it unlatched and slip into the darkness between the stacks. Not the first one, that’d be too obvious.” He tilts his head to the side, considering. “The third, maybe the fourth. You wait, pacing. You’re unable to hold still as the minutes pass. Your hands shake, knickers dampen in anticipation, those pesky nipples hard in the cool, dark air.” 

He pauses, gaze dropping to her jumper. “You’re on edge, in two ways.” He smirks.

Is he talking to her now…or the fantasy version?

“And you can hear everything. The creak of the gate opening, the footsteps growing nearer. You hold your breath, facing the aisle when he appears. You’re more secluded back there. You can be uninhibited. In three strides he’s there, pressing you against the stacks. You jump, he catches you, hands under your arse, slipping under your uniform skirt. You’re drenched, he can slip right in. One finger, then two.”

He's practically panting as he bites his lip and it looks like it’s taking everything in his power to stay on the other side of the aisle, pressed against his own bookshelf.

Hermione is matching him breath for breath. She can hardly think let alone speak as this fantasy he’s painting washes over her, playing out in her mind like a muggle movie in front of her eyes.

His tongue darts out, wetting his lips. Her eyes are drawn to the motion. “You’d moan, loudly. You seem like you’d be loud, Granger. You throw your head back and hit the books as pleasure rolls through you. With of flick of his wrist, your knickers would be gone.” He snaps his fingers and the sound, the implication, makes her gasp.

“He balances you on his waist as he lowers his pants and then he lines himself up, dipping into you. You’re drenched, already dripping down his cock before he thrusts fully inside you. You’d scream and he’d fuck you, hard and fast until you’re both breathless and sated, surrounded by books.”

His gaze drops lingering on her chest and lower, catching on her skirt and bare thighs. “Or maybe you’d do it right here.” He pushes off his shelf at last, crossing the space in two short strides until they’re chest to chest. He boxes her in, hands resting on the shelves behind her.

Hermione has to look up at him from under her lashes, her lips parted on account of her rapid breathing. She’s afraid to move or speak or do anything but listen to Draco’s melodic words detailing this beautiful filth.

“Maybe you’d be so desperate for him you wouldn’t care. You’d take him where anyone could find you, anything to get his hands on you, mouth on you.” He leans down, his lips ghosting over hers. “So, how close was I?”

Hermione’s breath hitches as she comes back to herself. Shaking her head, her hair catches on the books behind her, tugging slightly, but she barely feels it. “I’d never defile books that way.”

“No?” His eyes dart between hers. He’s so close she can see blue flecks in his grey eyes. “I must be projecting then… because that’s my fantasy.”

Hermione exhales sharply. She licks her lips at the very moment Draco finally pulls away. If he hadn’t her tongue may have danced across his lips.

She’s not sure if she’s relieved or upset that he pulled away before she had a chance to taste him with her tongue.

“But it’s your dare, Granger.” He’s back across the aisle now as if he never left.

For a second, Hermione wonders if she imagined the whole thing. If it was something he put in her mind. Why else would she have imagined herself perfectly the way he described it? Why else would she have imagined him as the wizard with her?

Certainly because he was the one narrating it. Right?

The Slytherin waits, looking as if he has all night to sit with her until she confesses her fantasies to him. She looks down at her shoes, a flush spreading up her neck. In all of her fantasies it was always his friend she’d envisioned. Surely he must know whatever she says will be in reference to Blaise?

Shit. She peeks out of the corner of her eye at the hovering camera capturing all of their moments together. He just confessed all of that for anyone to see, and now Hermione is meant to do the same thing.

Will the people watching also realise she’d envisioned Blaise?

“Come on, Granger. Any fantasy will do.” Draco’s voice is husky, thick with an emotion Hermione can’t place, nothing she’d heard from him ever before. “When you’re alone at night and your hand slips into your knickers, what do you think about? What do you touch yourself to? What gets Hermione Granger off?”

“I—” Merlin. She can’t believe she’s about to announce this out loud. “You were right,” she blurts out. “About...about wanting it hard and fast. I want…I want to be used for pleasure. That’s what gets me off,” she whispers. “I don’t want sweet and slow. I want someone to want me so badly they can’t stop themselves. I want passion and lust and raw need.” The words rush out so fast she’s not sure he’ll understand her. And if he can’t, maybe no one watching her camera will understand her either. She can hope, at least.

The confession is more of a yearning, she supposes, than a fantasy, but it’s the truth.

When she was with Ron, it was always slow and sweet. They were two best friends first. He didn’t want to do anything to hurt her, but now she needs more. She wants to explore, to try new things. Slow and sweet is nice from time to time but she aches for something hard and fast and…and maybe even a little degrading.

Draco walks over to her once more, hovering just in front of her. She could reach out and touch him but she waits for his next move with bated breath, wondering what he’ll say, if he’ll make fun of her for the dirty confession.

“You want someone who can’t wait to touch you.” He smirks. “Even if it’s in the middle of the library.”

Hermione exhales her breath before she grins up at him, grateful he circled the moment back to his own admission. “Not around the books,” she whispers.

Malfoy cracks a smile and the two of them linger in the moment, the air growing thick around them until Hermione clears her throat. Slinking away from him, Hermione leaves their secluded stack, moving through the library, back to the tables.

She walks around one of the tables in the corner before hopping up and perching on the wood. Pulling her dare card from her pocket, she sets it atop the table and waits. Beside her, Malfoy leans against a table near her, copying her with his own dare card placed face up on the wood.

It’s late and the game is meant to run through tomorrow until there’s one Player standing. She’s not sure how the game will separate her and Draco at this point; maybe tomorrow will be a fresh slate, but she can’t imagine it since they’ve been paired up this whole time.

The snitches flutter by them, recording the way they’re staring at one another. There were times she forgot about the cameras recording them, and she’s almost afraid to know everything they captured and who all saw her night with Draco Malfoy.

“So, tonight has been…unexpected,” Hermione says hesitantly.

Malfoy nods, a glimmer in his eyes. “You could say that.”

They’re circling around one another. She doesn’t know what to say to him now. They’re being watched at all times and they just confessed their fantasies to each other. They’re at the mercy of the creators of this game, waiting for the next line to be drawn.

“Where do we go from here?” she asks in a whisper.

“In the game?”

Sure, she thinks. Let’s start there. “Yeah. Things seem to be…”

“Escalating?”

She nods, and then her eye catches movement on the table. Looking down, words bubble up on the dare card. Hermione holds her breath as the letters flutter across the parchment.

Congrats, you survived day one. We’ll see you both again tomorrow… Goodnight.

The snitch flies over to them, landing in Hermione’s lap, the camera powering off for the night. She sighs in relief. She hadn’t even thought to worry about the camera watching her sleep until it powered off just now.

Her mouth falls open in an ‘o’ and she looks up quickly. “I guess…I guess it’s over for tonight.”

He holds up his own dare card. “Seems that way.” Pushing off the table, he pockets his dare card and the camera. “Let me walk you back to your room. It’s late.”

Hermione swallows thickly. The second the cameras turned off, he wants to be rid of her. She knew that this was all part of the game, but a small part of her is upset. Had he really spent all day flirting with her just for the cameras? And why? It’s not like people think Draco likes her. It’s odd he put on such a show for the game when he clearly doesn’t feel that way otherwise.

Thinking, she stays seated on the table, her nails tapping rhythmically against the wood.

“Granger?”

With the cameras off, this may be her only chance to ask him this question. Once the game is over, things will be sure to go back to the way they were before. “Wait.”

He stops, his brows furrowed. “Yeah?”

“Why have you been…” She hesitates. What if she’s misread the entire day and he wasn’t actually flirting with her? Maybe that’s just his personality, something she’s never been privy to up until this point. “Never mind.”

“Spill it, Granger.” He waits, arms crossed over his chest. When she doesn’t say anything, he says, “We’ve come this far.”

Her lips tick as she fights a smile.

“No? Well then, I dare you to tell me what you were going to ask.” He walks back toward her until he’s standing in front of the table. He leans in, hands bracketing either side of her hips. “Dares seem to work for you, yeah?”

She rolls her eyes. “The cameras are off, Malfoy.”

“So? Tell me anyway.” His face is level with hers and those blue flecks light up his grey eyes.

Before he accuses her of being a fake Gryffindor again, she asks, “Why have you been flirting with me all day? Is it all for the game?”

“Do you want it to be for the game?”

“I asked you first.”

His eyes fall to her lips and slowly ascend to meet her wide eyes. “I like seeing you flustered.” He breathes the words over her mouth, his voice dangerously low. “Your cheeks turn Gryffindor red, the same shade they get when you argue with me in class.”

She swallows past the lump in her throat, her eyes flitting between his. “Draco?” His given name slips out and she stutters, hesitating as her teeth dig into her bottom lip. “Truth or dare,” she finally says.

He grins. “We’ve been playing dare all night. Why stop now.”

“I dare you to tell me who your fantasy was about. Who you envision here with you in the library.”

He licks his lips, his left hand coming off the table and toying with the hem of her skirt. Hermione’s breath hitches, gaze drawn to his long fingers playing with the edge.

Slowly, testing her boundaries, his hand cups her thigh. He pushes her legs apart and she doesn’t fight him. She has no idea what this is but a part of her, the part of her that’s been playing with fiendfyre all day, wants to see what he does next.

Stepping between her now-parted legs, he touches her chin, forcing her eyes up to meet his. “And if I said you? That you’re the star in all my fantasies? The ones in the library, the ones in my dorm room, the ones in the potions lab, the ones behind every tapestry and hidden alcove in this castle? What then, Granger?”

Her throat clicks with her swallow. “Then I’d have a lot more questions.”

His hand burns as it circles the skin of her outer thigh. Their most intimate parts aren’t touching, she’s too far back on the table for that, but she can’t help but wonder what would happen if she scooted forward to the edge. Would he kiss her, push his cock against her core? Would she find him hard, as worked up as she is right now? Would he push her knickers aside and take her right here on this table?

He leans in and Hermione licks her lips in anticipation. Her lashes nearly flutter closed as Draco’s lips descend.

“We should get some sleep.” The words are brushed against her mouth and Hermione’s eyes snap open.

A cocky smirk graces Malfoy’s lips and Hermione exhales sharply as the bloody bastard stands to his full height.

Hermione hops off the table and her legs wobble. Draco catches the slip up, looking all too pleased with himself at how affected she is.

Too embarrassed to argue with him, Hermione lets Malfoy walk her all the way up to Gryffindor tower until she’s standing in front of the Fat Lady.

“Goodnight, Malfoy.”

“Tomorrow, Granger.” He turns, jogging down the first flight of stairs as Hermione stares bewildered after him. When he rounds the first corner, he looks all too happy to find her still watching his retreat.

Whispering the password, she heads inside. Despite the late hour, she knows there’s no way in hell she’s going to be able to fall asleep tonight, not with all of Malfoy’s revelations or the entire day they spent together now filling her head. Not with the vision of him stripped to his briefs at the club, either.

However, her steps falter, eyes going wide when she makes it to her dorm. Lavender Brown is sitting up in her bed, waiting for Hermione with a scowl on her face.

Fuck.

Notes:

continued thanks to my beta <3

Chapter 6

“Finally.” Lavender sniffs. She’s sitting up in bed in her pink silk pyjamas, her arms crossed over her ample chest.

Sneaking a glance to the third bed, she finds it’s still made and Parvati is nowhere to be found. Surprising, considering Lavender usually prefers to have an audience for her confrontations.

“Hey.” Hermione grins shyly, guilt seeping into her expression. She puts her wand on her nightstand and grabs her own pjs from her drawers. Turning her back on Lavender, she moves to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

“Are you seriously not going to talk to me?”

Hermione sighs and spins back to face her friend. “I am, I just—”

“What? Too good for me now that you’re all buddy buddy with Draco Malfoy?”

“Of course not. We’re not even…” Her mind stutters, rehashing the day she had with the Slytherin. The game, the flirting, the library… “It’s part of the game. I’m sorry I missed your dare—”

“Right. The game. You hardly missed much, nothing like what you’ve done tonight.” Lavender throws her curls over her shoulder with an accompanying eye roll. “In the game you’re only playing because of me.”

Hermione sets her things down and sits on the edge of her mattress facing Lavender. “Yes, you’re right, okay? I only signed up because…because…”

Lavender huffs. “Because what?”

“Because you told me I couldn’t!” Hermione finally snaps. “I’m sick and tired of being the goody two shoes, the butt of every joke, the girl none of you think knows how to have any fun.”

“Well, Draco Malfoy sure brought it out in you, didn’t he? Nice strip tease. Almost makes me wish I took a turn there…”

Hermione grits her teeth. “Surprised you haven’t. You’ve gone after everyone else,” she snaps, having had enough.

“Not everyone. I’ve kept my distance from Blaise because of you when I didn’t have to.”

“Oh! Yeah, because you can have every guy you want, right? Including my boyfriends.”

Lavender shrugs. “I’m just being honest with you, Mi. That’s the reason Blaise doesn’t like you. That’s what he told me in the Great Hall earlier. He likes me.”

Hermione tries not to react to the bite of the sting those words leave behind. “Maybe he just likes how easy you are.”

Those blue eyes narrow into dangerous slits. “You’re being a real bitch tonight, you know that?”

“Maybe I am! But it doesn’t even matter. None of this even matters, not to me, anyway.”

“And what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Hermione chuckles without humour. “It means that in a few months we’ll be done with school. I’ll take a job at the Ministry. I’ll make real changes to the world and make the Wizarding World a better place. Whereas you…” Hermione waves her hand. “This is everything to you, Lavender. You’re the type of girl who will get married, have babies, and relive your golden years back at school. You’ll host teas and do lunches and gossip with your friends about what everyone else is up to. The rest of your life will be nothing more than a highlight reel about Hogwarts. Some of us are bigger than this place.”

Lavender’s eyes grow glossy under Hermione’s watchful gaze, the harshness of the words sinking in.

Hermione reaches over and grabs her pyjamas once more and her toothbrush to finally get ready for bed. Behind her, Lavender sniffles, speechless at last.

And while she feels a sliver of guilt over the way she spoke to her friend, it’s nothing compared to the years of torment she’d endured from Lavender.

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” She throws the words over her shoulder before disappearing into the bathroom.

***

The following morning when Hermione wakes up, the room is quiet. To her left, she sees Lavender’s bed is empty and freshly made, as is Parvati’s beside hers. With a sigh, Hermione sits up and her eyes catch on movement to her right.

Whipping her head to the side, she catches Ginny closing the door to the eighth year dorm and slinking toward her with a soft smile. Sighing, Hermione scoots back against her pillows, sitting cross-legged as Ginny joins her on her bed.

“I brought you breakfast.” Ginny climbs up at the foot of the bed and pulls a couple of pastries from her backpack. “I figured you didn’t want to eat in the Great Hall where everyone will stare at you.”

Hermione groans. “Is it really that bad?”

Brows raised, Ginny levels her with a look. Right. Great. “People are just…confused.”

“People? Or you?” Hermione asks.

“Both?” The younger girl toys with the ends of her ginger hair. “I don’t understand why you spent all day with Malfoy. Game or not. And the dares you participated in…”

Hermione flushes, distinctly remembering one dare in particular. The one she orchestrated. “What is everyone saying, Gin? Spit it out.”

“I…haven’t heard much,” Ginny says slowly. “Honesty, I haven’t,” she promises. “I’ve been trying to Floo call Harry…”

“Did something happen?”

Ginny shrugs.

Hermione’s brows furrow. “Is everything okay with you two?”

Ginny picks at her scone, ripping it into small pieces. “I don’t know,” she admits. “There’s…” Hermione waits as the youngest Weasley twists her lips, heartbreak splitting across her freckled face. “I think there might be someone else.”

A gasp leaves Hermione’s lips. “What? Ginny, no.” She shakes her head. “I think Harry has been…” Processing his anger and grief by pushing everyone away, she thinks. Instead she lands on, “Distant, but I can’t imagine he would do that to you.”

The younger girl’s mouth pops open then closes, her lips pressing hard together. It almost looks like she’s trying to stop herself from crying.

“Gin, Harry loves you. He just needs to work through some things.” It’s the same sentiment Hermione has been telling herself since the end of the war. That Harry will come back around. That she didn’t go through all of that just to lose both of her best friends anyway.

Heaving a breath, the redhead pops a piece of pastry into her mouth, chewing thoroughly and swallowing before moving on. “You’re probably right.” She sighs, the worry still heavy in her tone when she says, “But my problems can wait for another day. Tell me about Malfoy.”

A startled laugh bubbles out of Hermione. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

Ginny lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “Try me.”

Hermione rubs at her forehead, sitting up straighter as if to give herself an air of confidence as she tries to explain her day with Draco Malfoy to a Weasley of all people.

“I don’t know, Gin,” she sighs. “It was…surprising. I know you hate Malfoy—”

“I thought you hated him too.”

“I…thought he hated me but it was…I don’t know. Nice, I guess?” Ginny’s wide eyes make Hermione hear what she just said. “Trust me, I never thought I’d use the word nice to describe Malfoy.” She shakes her head, brows furrowing. “He was nothing like I expected.” Flirty. Confident. Hot…

“What about his friends?”

“What about them?”

“Theo… Blaise…”

Hermione looks down, toying with her fingers. “I need to move on from that.”

“With Malfoy?”

“I…” She meets Ginny’s gaze and repeats her earlier words back at her. “I don’t know.”

“But I mean…what are you like, friends with him now?”

Hermione sighs. “It’s just a game. It was just one day. I don’t expect anything to change.” And that’s the truth, no matter how confusing the blonde Slytherin prince is acting.

“Good, because if you expect me to become friends with Draco Malfoy… ” She rolls her eyes. “He’s probably no worse than Lavender, though.”

Hermione tries not to laugh. Ginny and Lavender still don’t quite get along. “How was her dare?”

“Oh, she put on quite the show, don’t let her fool you.” She pops another torn piece of pastry into her mouth. “She’s been begging people to give her dares. It’s sad, really.”

“Really?”

Ginny nods. “She’s been like, following you and Malfoy. Watching you two together. I think she’s jealous.”

“Of me and Draco?”

One red brow arches. Hermione realises her faux pas using his first name. “I think it’s more how well you’re doing in the game when you didn’t even want to play. She thought it was her thing.”

Hermione isn’t surprised. She swallows the bitter pill. “We kind of got into it last night.”

Ginny scoots closer to Hermione on the bed, grinning. “Tell me everything.”

***

After giving Ginny all of the details—well except for the slightly juicy, off-camera ones that she still needs to mentally work through—the younger Gryffindor slinks off to call Harry again, leaving Hermione alone once more.

She falls back against her pillows, her curls wild around her head. With a puff of her lips, she blows a rogue curl off her forehead. Now what?

She can’t leave her room, not knowing that people are gossiping about her and Draco after watching them play Nerve yesterday.

The freaking strip club.

She groans. That is going to haunt her for a long time. Her mind can’t help but replay that moment, Draco’s eyes on her as he slowly peeled every last article of clothing off of his body.

Well not every article.

But her mind will try to supply what he was hiding under those black briefs—

She shakes her head. No. She can’t go down that path.

Reaching for her bedside table, she grabs her Nerve camera and dare card. Maybe she got a dare already this morning so she can focus on that instead of wallowing—see: hiding—in bed. Yet, when she flips over the card, it’s still blank.

The camera hasn’t turned back on yet either. She reaches for the other device, popping it open and turning it on. Once the screen loads, there’s a list of names she can scroll through. She hovers over her own name before selecting it where, once it loads, she can watch herself go through the dares she got yesterday, starting with the very first one where she had to kiss Draco Malfoy.

Not wanting to relive her embarrassment on how she practically attacked him, she hits the little x on the screen and it takes her back to the main list.

She can watch everyone’s dares this way.

Beside her name is a little red dot, but some of the other names have a green dot beside them. There’s a third category of people with black dots. She wonders if that means the green dots are active players with new dares and maybe the red dots are players who haven’t gotten new dares yet.

Right at the top of the screen, in alphabetical order, she sees Lavender Brown with a little green light. Using the compact controls, she clicks on Lavender’s name.

The screen brings up a live feed of Lavender on what looks like the quidditch pitch. Wind whips her blonde curls and muddles the audio on the video as if Lavender had cast a muffliato charm.

In one hand, Lav holds a broom and as she gets to the centre of the pitch, Hermione notices a small gathering of people around her. Including Parvati, her sidekick, no surprise there, as well as Cormac McLaggen and a bunch of other seventh- and eighth-years.

Rolling her eyes, Hermione keeps watching as her friend mounts the broom in a black skirt and purple jumper. She kicks off the ground and goes soaring into the air.

That would be enough of a dare for me, Hermione thinks, but Lavender’s dare doesn’t end there.

She scoots to the middle of the broom, just enough so she doesn’t nosedive. Her left hand is placed in front of her, gripping hard around the wooden handle and her right hand moves behind her, holding onto the broom near the bristles.

Hermione gasps as Lavender shifts her body and brings her left foot up to rest on the broom. She can’t. There’s no way she’s going to…

As soon as Hermione thinks it, Lavender pulls her right foot up to balance on the broom. Nearly flashing her knickers to the camera, Lavender pushes to stand and somehow is able to ride her broom like a muggle skateboard in the sky.

Hermione’s heart is racing just from watching her, but she can’t look away. She needs to make sure her friend is okay. She’s panting as Lavender laughs and grabs the broom, sitting back down on it easily and landing on the ground as if that was the most natural thing in the world.

These are the types of dares other people are getting? She’s not going to complain too much anymore about her tattoo or public kiss.

Closing out of Lavender’s name, Hermione scrolls through the list and spots Seamus. She opens up his camera feed watches just in time as Headmistress McGonagall catches Seamus lighting up a joint in her office.

The screen goes black while the words Dare Failed. Eliminated. flash across the screen.

When Hermione is sent back to the list of names, Seamus’s name now sits beside a little black dot. The black dots must be eliminated players. Scrolling through the names, she sees a bunch of people signed up to play Nerve but have already been eliminated.

Scrolling to the bottom, she discovers Blaise isn’t playing the game—despite what Lavender said about being the type of guy to sign up for Nerve—but she finds Theo Nott’s icon green. Glancing at the list, she sees that beside Draco’s name, his little icon is red. She doesn’t bother opening his profile. She doesn’t need to relive all of their dares from his point of view.

Instead, she clicks on Theo’s name. Immediately, she can tell he’s high in the air, the camera pointed at his back as he overlooks the school grounds.

“Theo, fucking stop. You don’t need to do this.”

Hermione gasps as the voice registers through the device. Draco. The camera flutters away, giving Hermione and anyone watching a clear view of Theo.

It becomes clear that he’s at the Astronomy tower. Except, it’s not just that he’s overlooking the grounds of the school, but he’d stepped over the railing. One movement or harsh wind will send him freefalling to his death.

Theo’s hands are behind him wrapped around the wrought-iron railing, though otherwise he doesn’t even appear nervous. He has a smile on his face like this is a regular Saturday in his life. Circe, maybe it is.

Hermione leans forward as if she’ll be able to get a better view and see things clearer. Behind Theo are Draco, Blaise, and Pansy Parkinson. Theo beams and leans so far over the ledge Hermione is certain he’s going to slip. Blaise watches on with an air of confident amusement in his smirk as Draco, contrarily, looks horrified.

Her eyes widen as realisation dawns. The Astronomy tower. She’s sure Draco is horrified simply being in that building, up on that deck. Standing at the place where Dumbledore fell to his death at what was supposed to be his hand.

Now his best friend stands there like some kind of joke.

Or some kind of dare, rather. Merlin.

“I can do better!” Theo booms. He turns around, facing his friends now. Finally, a flicker of something akin to fear flashes over Blaise’s face, his grin dropping ever so slightly.

Meanwhile, Pansy paces in the background, her mouth running like she’s yelling at Theo, but either she’s been silenced or the camera isn’t picking up on her words.

Theo lifts his left hand as if…is he…waving? At his friends? With his right hand wrapped around the black iron banister, he jumps.

Hermione shrieks.

Through the camera, Pansy’s shrill scream permeates first. Draco and Blaise, both equally terrified, lunge for the railing, their hands wrapping around it as they lean over.

One handed, Theo waves to the Nerve camera, smiling and laughing as he dangerously dangles from the Astronomy tower.

“You idiot!” Pansy screeches.

Blaise and Draco reach for Theo, various arguments of ‘get back up here!’ and ‘what the fuck is wrong with you!? spilling through the device.

With Hermione’s heart racing, pounding in her chest, her own hands grow sweaty as she watches. After what feels like an eternity, Draco and Blaise pull Theo safely over the banister.

Hermione turns off the device and tosses it on the bed.

She doesn’t much care to turn it on ever again after witnessing that.

***

After a long, steadying shower, Hermione gets dressed and decides to face the day.

On instinct, she heads to the library, but halts right outside the double doors. Her teeth dig into her bottom lip as she remembers last night, the things she and Draco said to one another, the way his hand felt on her thigh…

Pivoting, she heads for the courtyard. Besides, it’s a rare sunny day today and she doesn’t want to let the nice weather go to waste.

She has her Nerve snitch-camera with her, but since it shut down last night it oddly hasn’t turned back on. Maybe the game is over? She keeps tapping the screen as if it’s going to turn on and give her another dare, but so far nothing.

Still, she threw the camera in her bag and tucked her dare card into the back pocket of her denims. She doesn’t want to lose the game just because she left her card behind in her dorm.

Disappointment slogs through her veins at the prospect of the game being over. For the first time she’s proving to her schoolmates and friends that she’s not just a swot and bookworm, but she can be fun and daring, even. She’s a Gryffindor, for Godric’s sake.

While a small part of her feels the tiniest smidge of relief at not having to confront the mixed feelings brewing inside of her since last night, there’s the larger part of her that feels despondent about not getting to spend more time with Draco.

What might have happened today? Where would the game have taken them?

He was flirting with her and it felt exciting and new and…somehow easy. Playing the game distracted her from all the other shit she normally feels and deals with, and a lot of that is because of him.

Her disappointment is replaced with irritation as an overly loud, girlish giggle interrupts her peace and quiet. Lavender leads Parvati and Padma into the courtyard, whispering and cackling as their eyes flit repeatedly toward Hermione.

Clearing her throat, Lavender stands tall and pushes her long blonde curls over her shoulder with one hand. Her blue eyes sneak another glance at Hermione as a wicked smile unfurls before she addresses the twins.

“Did I tell you guys how much money I’ve made so far?”

“You only get to keep it if you win, right?” Padma asks.

“Yes,” Lav scoffs, “but I’m going to win so it will be all mine.” She makes a show of opening her device and pointing the screen at Parvati and Padma.

Parvati grabs Lavender’s wrist, pulling the compact device toward her with her mouth open. “Holy shit, Lav. Your broom dare was worth seventy-five galleons!? That’s mad.”

“I know!” Lavender giggles, intentionally talking loud enough for Hermione to overhear. “I’ve made a total of one hundred and fifty galleons so far. Isn’t it insane?”

Hermione swallows her snort. Insane indeed. How Lavender is so comfortable taking money from her peers, she’ll never understand. The dares she’s seen have ranged from embarrassing to downright dangerous. Is the game really worth a couple hundred galleons?

For Hermione, signing up for Nerve was never about the money. She hasn’t even checked her bidding pool to see how much she’s earned. Then again, she can’t imagine she’s made as much money as Lavender for her few dares with Draco.

She glances up in time to make eye contact with Padma. Shit. “Hermione! I’ve been watching your dares,” she says kindly. “Ow!” She yells when Lavender not-so-subtly elbows her in the ribs.

“So, let’s hear it then. How much have your dares made you?” Lavender snickers.

“I don’t know. I haven’t checked.”

Her roommate rolls her eyes. “What, you just plan to check when you win?”

“No,” Hermione shakes her head and fights her own eye roll, not wanting to stoop down to Lavender’s level. “I don’t expect that I’ll win, so why bother getting attached to money I won’t keep and don’t need?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you made a lot,” Parvati adds. “Loads of people might try and bet on the Golden Girl,” she adds with a sneer.

Hermione grits her teeth. “I doubt it. I haven’t done anything as dangerous as standing on a broom.” The words come out with a bite, but the sentiment is honest. After seeing what some other dares people have been given, she’s glad the worst she’s ended up with is a tattoo.

“So, you’ve been watching.” Lavender notes with smugness.

“Sizing up the competition?” Parvati adds.

“I don’t care about the bloody competition,” Hermione mumbles under her breath.

“Going to quit now that you know what you’re up against?” Lav asks.

“You should worry more about Theo Nott and less about me,” Hermione says honestly. If anyone is going to give Lavender a run for her money, it’s that chaotic Slytherin.

Besides, it’s not like Hermione even has another dare right now to continue the game anyway.

“Interesting. You seem to be growing mighty close to the snakes. First your crush on Blaise, then Malfoy in the game, now keeping tabs on Nott…” She smirks.

Bitch. Hermione huffs, finally sick of Lavender’s baiting. “You know what Lavender, why don’t you just worry about your dares and I’ll worry about mine?”

“Oh, I’m not worried about yours at all. Maybe I’ll try and team up with Nott since apparently partnerships are allowed now.”

“Go for it. Break a leg.” And an arm, while you’re at it.

“Let’s go.” Lavender smirks and giggles her way out of the courtyard, whispering Merlin-knows-what about Hermione as she goes.

Once they leave, Hermione can admit (to herself, anyway) that curiosity is eating at her. Pulling out the compact device once more, she goes to her player profile and clicks on the galleon icon. Each of her dares is listed and beside them is the amount of the bid.

Her jaw falls open. Kiss your lab partner – 100 galleons

Sweet fucking Circe. Maybe they thought she really needed to be bribed to kiss him. That makes sense.

Go to Knockturn Alley with Draco – 150 galleons

That wasn’t even her dare! Why should she have gotten paid for it? Just because she had to go with?

Let Draco choose your tattoo – 250 galleons

In three dares—one that wasn’t even hers —she’s made 500 galleons!? A small part of her wishes she let Lavender see this. It doesn’t matter, though. No matter how much money it is, it’s not like she’ll get to keep it.

Sitting on a bench in the courtyard, she pulls out her book and tries to forget about the hundreds of galleons taunting her. The sun beats down on her and she pushes up the sleeves of her jumper until a shadow hovers above her, blocking the rays from hitting her.

Glancing up, she finds Draco Malfoy, eyes glaring down at her exposed skin. She follows his gaze, landing on her forearm and the letters carved into her skin.

Ripping down the chunky fabric, she covers the scar, a greeting caught in her throat. “H-hi.”

Whether it’s her voice or the motion of covering her arm, he breaks out of his trance. “Granger.” He sits down on the bench beside her and pulls her book from her grasp. “To the Lighthouse?”

“I assume you haven’t read it.” She snatches her book back from him playfully. “So…I saw Theo’s dare earlier.”

Draco’s jaw clenches and ticks, his gaze far-off. “He’s an idiot,” he grumbles.

No argument there. “I’m glad he’s okay. You seemed—” she searches for the right word, but before she can find it and finish her sentence, a noise trills from her bag. Digging to the bottom, she finds the camera she tossed in and discovers the light has turned on, blinking green once more.

It’s back on.

The dare card sitting in her back pocket starts burning through her clothes at the same time, and a zap of excitement shoots through her.

How odd that the moment she comes into contact with Malfoy she gets another dare. She wonders if his camera was already on, so the Watchers realised they were together.

“What’s it say?” Draco asks, leaning over to read off her card. Guess he doesn’t want to talk about the Astronomy Tower anymore. Looking up from her card, she notices his dare card clutched in his hands as well.

Now she can’t help but wonder how many galleons went into choosing this dare…

“Attend tonight’s party in the room of requirement,” she pauses. “With Draco as your date.” She looks up at the Slytherin from under her lashes, the word date causing a fresh bloom upon her cheeks.

Lifting his dare card, Draco flicks it. “Guess my card is first then. “Go to Lusso. Buy each other an outfit to wear to tonight’s party in the Room of Requirement.’”

“Lusso? Isn’t that…”

“Blaise’s mum’s store, yeah.” Draco’s jaw tightens at the mention. His eyes flicker, voice softening as he looks down at her. “Is that—I mean, are you—?”

Just like he doesn’t want to talk about the Astronomy Tower, she doesn’t want to talk about Blaise. The last thing she wants right now is to recount how Blaise rejected her.

Merlin. Was that really only one day ago? So much has happened since then. Somehow, that moment led to everything that’s happened so far with Draco and with this game.

That’s all the last twenty-four hours have been: a game. Whatever…moments have transpired between her and Draco mean nothing. It’s been a fun distraction, but come Monday everything will go back to the way it was, just with a little extra ink etched into her skin.

Her dares so far today include going shopping and going to a party. Compared to everyone else's dares, it hardly seems fair. Then again, if it stays like this, she may just have a shot at winning after all...

She ignores Draco’s question and his look of pity entirely. “Come on, Malfoy. We have a game to win.”

Notes:

had to include a nod to To the Lighthouse. iykyk :)

Chapter 7

He smirks up at her and pushes off the bench. “Suddenly we’re trying to win, huh?”

“Consider me inspired.” The nagging, presumptuous voice of Lavender whispers in the back of Hermione’s mind, mocking her, setting fire ablaze in her veins.

“In that case, exactly how far are you willing to go, Granger?” Mischief brightens his silver eyes.

Hermione glares at him pointedly. “Don’t get any ideas about going back to that strip club, Malfoy.”

“Oh, my head’s already full of them.” He smirks at her, his gaze dripping over her like honey.

In return, she pays him the same attention. She eyes his crisp white button down shirt and plain black trousers. She’s used to seeing him in an oxford shirt and trousers, thanks to the standard Hogwarts uniform. She also now has seen him in his boxer briefs, a memory she can’t seem to forget (not that she’s tried very hard…or at all).

But she can’t help but wonder…

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I just…” She nibbles at her bottom lip. “Don’t you ever wear, I don’t know, t-shirts?” What does Draco Malfoy lounge in? Does he ever just wear grey sweatpants? Do they hang low on his hips, showing off the V Hermione can’t get out of her mind, dipping down to—

“You’re wondering if I ever wear t-shirts right now?”

She clears her throat as she forces the wandering thoughts of Draco Malfoy in grey sweatpants from her mind.

“Just…you’re always so… proper. Do you have a special three-piece suit you sleep in?”

“Of course not.” His lip twitches. “I sleep naked.”

Hermione nearly chokes. “Well, then, I guess that’s why we need to go shopping for some clothes.”

Moving ahead of him, she starts toward the path that will lead them to Hogsmeade, her mind racing. From there, she assumes they’ll apparate to Diagon Alley again.

Draco catches up to her quickly despite the way she rushed away from him. Will they side-along like they did last night? How can she hold onto him now, after the library, after his admissions of his fantasy and this newfound little fun fact. I sleep naked.

She glances over at the tall blond out of the corner of her eye trying to get in his head, to understand what game he’s playing with her specifically. Caught, She looks away abruptly when he looks back at her, appearing all too smug. His grin nearly splits his face as they trek on.

The walk to Hogsmeade feels shorter than ever before and she’s ill-prepared when they reach the apparition point. Draco looks at her with a cocked brow, his lips still tilted with amusement.

Hermione’s never been in Lusso but she’s heard Lavender talk about it plenty, and she knows it’s an obvious staple for the Slytherin girls.

Looking up at him, Hermione throws caution to the wind. “I’ve never been to the store, so maybe you should apparate again, if you don’t mind,” she tacks on.

The Slytherin doesn’t bother to hold back the way his grin stretches. He offers her his hand, and Hermione glances down at it, confusion crinkling her brow. When she places her palm against his, he tugs her hard into his chest. He quickly wraps his arms around her and spins on the spot, disapparating them in a cloud of black smoke.

When she opens her eyes, they’re in Diagon Alley and Hermione is clutching onto Malfoy’s shirt, quickly realising that she doesn’t want to let go.

On unsteady, apparition-laden legs, she steps out of his warm embrace. They’re right in front of the storefront on the corner of Diagon and Knockturn where the store resides. A white building with the name hanging in large black letters above the entryway.

Reaching for the handle, Draco holds open the glass doors and Hermione steps inside. The store is as luxurious as the name suggests. It’s split down the centre, the right side housing the men’s clothes and the left side holding the women’s.

The entire space is mostly white with black accents aside from the clothing itself. The chandeliers above her head are sure to be pure crystal with flickering candles lit overhead. The spaces on either side are welcoming with couches and tables holding fresh flowers.

Hermione feels immensely out of place. She fears the only thing she’ll be able to afford to buy Draco in here is a fresh pair of socks.

The thought of his socks takes her back to Evanesco and the way he stripped and commanded the crowd, all while making her feel like the most important person in the room. The memory washes over her, the scar marring his chest, his tight abs, those black briefs…

“Granger?”

“Yeah?” She whips around to look at Draco.

“I said, meet me back here in thirty.”

“Right. Yes. Of course.” She turns to the left, heading for the women’s clothing.

“Granger.” His pale brow is quirked, amusement clear on his face. “I’m meant to shop for you, yeah? And you’re—”

“Yes. Right. Over there.” She nods and beelines across the store to the men’s section.

Merlin, what has gotten into her? Shaking her head, she focuses her attention on the clothes before her, dragging her fingers over the expensive fabric. She has to pick something for Draco to wear to the party tonight.

Where he has to go with her.

As her date.

Butterflies flood her belly at the thought. Maybe this will be good for her. It will surely distract everyone from her earlier rejection, at least. At this point, everyone must have forgotten the way she was humiliated in front of everyone in the Great Hall. She nearly has. Who knew Draco Malfoy could be such a good distraction?

The stripping certainly didn’t hurt.

She shakes her head as if to physically clear away the thoughts clouding her mind. She needs to focus. She needs to find something for Draco to wear. Which, this bet, she realises, isn’t really fair. All Hermione can pick out for Draco is a new shirt, maybe a new pair of trousers, if they’re on sale. But he has so many options he could choose for her, and she’s a little nervous to see what he comes up with.

After looking through every option twice, Hermione lands on a black shirt that will contrast nicely with Malfoy’s pale skin and hair. She’s seen him in all black before, and despite how it should look harsh and out of place on him, instead it works for him.

What doesn’t work for him? She’s not sure she can come up with an answer for her rogue thought.

Splurging, she decides to personalise the shirt, getting his initials monogrammed on each sleeve in black string on the cuffs, a small detail no one will notice unless they know what to look for.

Moving to the register, a young witch with red hair puts Draco’s new shirt in a bag and winks at her. “It’s been handled.”

“Sorry?”

“You’re all set.” The girl pushes the bag across the counter and Hermione takes it in a daze. She hopes Draco didn’t pay for his own shirt. The entire point was she was meant to get something for him.

Weaving back toward the front of the store, she finds Draco lounging in one of the many couches. His legs are outstretched, feet crossed at the ankles. He’s twirling his wand through his fingers mindlessly as he waits.

“Malfoy,” Hermione starts as she approaches him. His motions freeze, eyes scanning up her body until he meets her gaze. “Did you pay for this?” She holds up the bag.

He stands, picking up his matching bag containing whatever he chose for Hermione to wear tonight. “No, it seems the game paid for it.”

“What?”

He shrugs. “The watchers, the creators…someone took care of it.”

“Oh,” she breathes out. If she’d known that she would’ve chosen something more for Malfoy.

“We should put them on before we get back to Hogwarts.” He holds the bag out on his index finger, tempting Hermione to snatch it from him.

She worries her lip. “We can change back at school.”

Malfoy leans in so his breath ghosts over her ear. “But then I won’t be there to get your reaction or see you in it for the first time.”

“My reaction? What did you get me, Malfoy, lingerie?”

“Don’t tempt me.” He bites his lip, his eyes undressing her, burning through her.

Hermione grabs the bag from his hand with a huff and passes her purchase over to Malfoy. “Fine.” Together, they make their way to the dressing rooms, the witch at the registers watching them with amusement.

Closing herself in the fitting room, Hermione opens the bag and pulls out a Slytherin green dress. She rolls her eyes at his transparency. It’s a halter dress that ties with a bow to expose an open back, the fabric open in a way that’ll show off her new tattoo. The dress is short with a layered tulle skirt. It’s absolutely stunning.

However, it’s not the only thing in the bag. Malfoy also bought her a pair of black heels and—

“Malfoy!” His name is ripped from her throat before she can overthink it. At the bottom of the bag sits one more scrap of fabric. The lace is see-through, held together with thin ties and a barely-there gusset at the bottom.

She storms into the seating area of the dressing room in a huff, the offensive knickers dangling on her finger. Not finding him anywhere, she marches across the room to the door she knows he chose and rips it open.

He’s half-undressed, his white Oxford shirt on the hanger as he holds his new black shirt in his hands. Her gaze gets trapped on his tattoos, eyes tracing over every delicate line until she nearly forgets why she stormed over to him in the first place.

He clears his throat and Hermione finds his brow arches toward his hairline, a smirk weaving its way back onto his face. “Couldn’t wait to see me naked, Granger?”

She glowers at him, coming back to herself. “What the hell are these?”

He cocks his head, admiring his purchase. “Those are knickers. Do muggleborns not normally wear knickers? I can show you how to put them on but I’d prefer to help you take them off.”

Her face heats. “Hilarious, Malfoy. I know what knickers are. I meant, why did you buy me these?”

“It’s obvious, no?”

Hermione waits, holding the green lace between her fingers, keeping them away from her. Her cheeks burn as Malfoy watches with amusement.

“I like how easy I can make you blush,” he whispers the words, either like a secret or something he didn’t mean to admit. “Go get dressed, Granger.” He grins at her, as if the sight of her before him is one he wants burned into his memory. He shuts the dressing room door in her face and she has to take a step back.

Back in her own dressing room, she drops the knickers back into the bag. She won’t forgo her dare—it’s just an outfit after all—but… shit. Does she have to wear every item Draco bought her to complete the dare?

She considers it as she undresses. The dare said they just had to pick out something for the other person to wear to the party, not that they had to wear it, right?

Then again, is it worth risking it over a technicality? Not to sound like Malfoy, but she has come this far already.

And it’s just a pair of knickers. It’s not like he’ll ever know she put them on.

Hermione pulls on the dress first, tying the knot around her neck. She looks herself over in the mirror, admiring her new tattoo in the process. Shifting on her feet, she reaches under her new dress and tugs down the cotton knickers she had on. Grabbing the green scrap from the bag, she slides the thong up her legs and tugs it into place.

When she’s done, she opens up the box holding her new heels and pushes her feet into the high-arched shoe. She’s going to need to hang onto Malfoy’s arm as they walk the cobblestone streets back to the apparition point.

Maybe that was his point.

She banishes the thought. She’s not going to read anything further into Malfoy’s flirtations. She can’t deny she’s been surprised by him every step of the way, but it’s probably just that he likes messing with her. Surely, it’s not like he’s being serious.

He just likes to make her blush, he said so himself.

And the game is forcing them to spend time together, she rationalises. It’s not as if they would be together if not for Nerve.

Would he really commit this much time to her, to the game, just to embarrass her? Maybe Malfoy from fifth year would have, but she can’t imagine he would have willingly spent any time with her, whether he was being paid or not.

And he’s different now. Isn’t he? Is he just pitying her? Is that even any better than an elaborate plot to embarrass her?

She sighs. If she spends any more time in this fitting room, he’s going to think she bailed on him.

After throwing her clothes and shoes into the bag, she steps out of her room and finds Draco leaning casually against the wall, waiting for her.

His eyes devour her as she steps out of her dressing room. The slow perusal of his gaze burns through her, his silver eyes turning molten as they drag over her body in the dress he chose.

“Did you put everything on, Granger?” he asks, a huskiness to his voice. His lips are pulled into his signature smirk and his brow is cocked, awaiting her answer.

Her eyes narrow, a retort crawling up her throat but she swallows it back. With slow, measured steps, she crosses the waiting area toward him. “Would you like to find out, Malfoy?” she asks, her voice low and hopefully seductive.

His eyes widen briefly, thrown off guard. Closing the distance between them, Hermione places her hands on his chest, her head tilted back to look at him, curls dancing across the open back of her dress.

“We could ditch the cameras, sneak into one of these dressing rooms…” She makes a point to look around. “Then you could find out for yourself. What do you say?” Her fingers toy with the collar of his shirt. She feels his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows.

Draco Malfoy rendered speechless. She likes him better this way.

A peal of laughter bubbles out of her. “Let’s go, Malfoy, before you swallow your tongue.”

Moving back to her side of the dressing room, she grabs her bag of clothes and moves through the store, heels clicking along the polished wood floors.

Malfoy quickly catches up to her, moving in front of her to grab the door and hold it open before she can get a hand on it.

“Thank you,” she says.

“Brat,” he responds. She smirks at him, which only makes his sour expression deepen.

She heads through Diagon Alley to the apparition point. “I guess we should just head back to school then.”

“Actually…” He pulls his dare card from his pocket. His brow furrows as he reads over the words. “We have another dare.”

“What is it?”

His lip ticks but he fights the full grin. “I think this one’s better left as a surprise.” He holds out his arm, daring her to take it.

Hermione looks at him, weighing her options. If it’s his dare, she probably doesn’t need to go with him. But somehow this feels like a test all on its own.

She doesn’t need to go with him, but she wants to. Taking his arm is acknowledging whatever is building between them, and that she trusts him even without him telling her where they’re going.

His arched eyebrow taunts her, dares her to take his arm. In for a knut…

Grabbing on, she revels in Malfoy’s grin before he apparates them…to Grimmauld place?

“What are we doing here?”

“It’s our next dare, Granger.”

“Our?”

Draco takes her hand and pulls her toward the alleyway. Like two clandestine criminals, they slink toward the back of the building.

“What are we doing here?” Hermione whispers. Every click of her heels sounds like a bombarda to her ears on the quiet streets. Her heart is racing as she teeters to keep up with Draco.

The Slytherin doesn’t answer, slinking toward the shed in the back of 12 Grimmauld Place.

“You know who lives here, right? Harry? Ron? You’ve heard of them? You know they’re aurors now?”

Draco snorts. “Yeah, I’m shaking in my dragonhides.” Moments later, he’s walking Sirius’s motorcycle out of the shed.

“What are you doing?” Hermione’s eyes are wide, her voice an octave too high.

“This is my dare. I have to steal Sirius’s old bike.”

“That belongs to Harry now!”

In a dramatised whisper, he retorts, “That’s why I’m stealing it, Granger.” He rolls the bike quietly onto the street behind the row of homes.

Regardless, all the lights are off in Grimmauld Place. It’s unlikely Harry or Ron are home, but she keeps sneaking glances toward the back door like they’re going to be caught any second now.

With his wand, her partner-in-apparent-theft shrinks down their shopping bags and shoves them into the pockets of his trousers.

Draco swings his leg over the bike, straddling it and keeping one foot on the ground as he looks at Hermione pointedly. “Hop on, Granger.”

“Why do you need me for this?!”

“Because stealing the bike was only the first half of the dare. I can’t do the second part alone.” He holds out the only helmet for her to take and put on.

Hermione glances at the helmet and back to Draco. “What’s the second part of the dare?”

“I have to drive it…” She waits for the other shoe to drop. “Blindfolded.”

An incredulous laugh bubbles out of her. “Nope. No way. You’re insane. I’m sorry. I’m out. I’m not doing that.”

“Come on, Granger. I need you.”

“You can’t be serious.” He looks completely serious. “Draco, come on. This has been fun, seriously, but there’s no way…”

“You’ll be completely in control.” Her resolve falters. “Please. Say yes.” His arm drops slightly where he’s holding out the helmet.

Fuck. This is insane.

“If we die, I’m going to kill you.” Her arms are already shaking as she takes the helmet from his grasp.

He fucking beams. “You won’t let that happen. I trust you.”

He trusts her. He said it so easily, gave his trust so easily.

Hermione swings her legs over the side of the motorcycle and climbs on behind Draco.

Notes:

again, with the motorcycle scene, I HAD TO. iykyk! <3

Chapter 8

“You’re sure about this?” Draco asks, his head turned to the side to look at Hermione.

She lets out a nervous laugh. “Don’t back down on me now, Malfoy.” She wraps her arms around his waist, clinging to him tightly.

“You’ll be in control. Just lean left or right to steer.”

Hermione presses against his back, making sure she can see clearly over his shoulder. “Right. Got it. Where are we driving to?” She was hoping to sound more confident than she feels, but her voice cracks, shattering any illusion that she’s not completely petrified.

“Kings Cross Station.”

Hermione nods, hyping herself up. “Okay. That’s fine. That’s not that far.” Just have to avoid hitting anything. Or anyone. They can do this.

Her heart is hammering in her chest and her palms are surely leaving sweat marks on Draco’s brand new shirt.

“Wait. I need a blindfold.” Lifting off the bike, he pulls out their shrunken shopping bags. “Can I use your new knickers, Granger? Unless you’re wearing them.”

He’s all too smug, baiting her into confessing. She glares at the side of his face instead. “They’re practically see through anyway. They won’t do.” She says and yanks her shopping bag from his grasp to avoid him finding her other pair of knickers. Instead, she pulls out one of her socks. It’ll have to do.

She transfigures it large enough to fit around his head and tie in the back.

“Ready?” he asks.

Not even a little bit. “Uh huh.” Both of their snitches buzz by, flying in front of them to record them. Hermione had nearly forgotten all about them but somehow seeing them again puts everything back into context.

Her nerves are rattling, legs shaking where they hug either side of the bike.

Draco faces forward and starts the bike, kicking off the ground, and then pulls out onto the road. Blindfolded.

Hermione screams as the bike loses balance, the pair of them tilting from side-to-side as they try to get their bearings.

“We’re going too slow. We can’t stay upright,” Draco calls over his shoulder. “I have to speed up.”

“SPEED UP!?” Hermione screeches.

“Just lean left or right to steer. You’ve got this, Granger.”

Hermione licks her lips as Draco twists the knob on the handlebar and picks up the pace. Except, they’re heading directly toward another building.

Shrieking, Hermione leans to the left and overcorrects, nearly toppling them both off of the bike. She squeals as they lean back together, righting themselves and the bike.

“Are you okay?”

“I think so!” Draco reaches for his blindfold but Hermione stops him. “No! Don’t, it’s okay. We can do this.” Maybe if she sounds determined, they’ll actually get through this unscathed.

Luckily, the streets aren’t crowded as they weave through the buildings, but soon they’re going to have to get on a main road.

“Stay straight,” Hermione tells Draco. “I’m going to practice steering.”

He nods and slowly, carefully, Hermione leans to the right. Draco follows and the bike obeys. She repeats the process, leaning to the left. She nods against his back. “Okay. Okay. We can do this.”

“You’re in charge, Granger,” Draco reminds her.

Right. Okay. Placing her hand over his on the handlebar, she increases their speed and leads them to Pentonville road.

As they’re slowly driving toward the main road, a patronus she doesn’t recognise appears in front of them. The Black Stallion shocks Hermione, and she nearly steers to miss it, but the patronus simply follows them.

“You have two minutes remaining,” says the voice of the patronus.

“What! I didn’t know this was a timed dare!?” Panic turns into a heavy rock in her gut.

“What was that?” Draco calls.

“A patronus! I didn’t recognise the voice.” It sounded distorted to Hermione’s ears. “Shit.”

They need to make a left turn onto a busy street.

“Can we make it?”

Hermione’s brows crinkle. They’re going to have to.

Without thinking, she makes the bike move faster. She winces as she takes the sharp turn onto Pentonville road, and out of the corner of her eye she catches an approaching bus. She screams, putting out her hand as if they’re going to stop them from being run over.

They narrowly miss getting squashed and Hermoine speeds down the road. She weaves in and out of cars and before she knows it, she can see Kings Cross Station.

Right before they get there, a car cuts them off, pulling into the drop off line. Hermione shrieks, darting around them.

“Take the blindfold off!” Someone screams as they drive past.

“Watch where you’re going!”

“What are you doing!”

They ignore everyone and Hermione pulls into a spot at Kings Cross with seconds to spare. Once the bike is stopped and they’re parked, Draco rips off his blindfold.

Hermione hops off the bike, tempted to kiss the solid ground she’s now safely standing on.

“Holy shit.”

“Granger.”

She looks up from where she’s bent over breathing heavily, her heart racing in her chest. She stands, ripping off her helmet just in time for Draco to reach her.

Before she can react or say anything or allow the anxiety to bubble out of her in a fit of laughter, Draco’s lips are on hers.

She gasps, clinging to him and opening her mouth for him to explore, and Merlin, but he takes the opportunity.

His tongue caresses hers as they tangle together. She holds him close, her fists clutching at his shirt once more, pulling him tighter against her. His hands cup her face, sinking into her hair.

The adrenaline from the motorcycle has nothing on this kiss. Her heart is ready to pound out of her chest. She didn’t even realise she pushed up onto her tiptoes until Draco pulls away and her heels lower back to the ground.

He grins at her and that overzealous heart of hers stutters in her chest. A full giggle slips from her lips. She’s trapped in his gaze, those silver eyes searing into her. She opens her mouth to say something, but instead—

“Hermione?”

She freezes. She knows that voice. Spinning around slowly, she’s met with the shocked and certainly-growing-angry expression of Harry Potter.

“Harry.” He’s in his auror robes, hands loose at his sides.

Green eyes dart behind her, surely meeting a gaze of hardened steel. Fuck.

“Malfoy.”

“Potter.”

“What are you doing here?” Hermione asks, when really, she’s the one out of place, not Harry.

“I should ask you the same thing.” His eyes zero in on the parking space behind them. “Is that Sirius’s bike?”

Shit. Somehow Hermione had forgotten that bit. “We, ah, I can explain.”

“Why do you have my godfather’s bike?” Is Hermione imagining it, or did Harry’s hand twitch toward his wand?

“Well, he’s also my cousin.”

Hermione elbows him in the ribs. “Not now, Draco.”

Harry’s brows shoot up. “Draco? You’re on a first name basis?”

“Probably because she saw me half-naked yesterday.” Hermione pinches her eyes closed at the smug Slytherin.

Hermione whips around and glares at her partner. “You are not helping.”

He smirks. “I assure you, I’m not trying to.”

“Merlin, Hermione. I knew things were bad but…what’s Ron going to think?”

Hermione rears back, facing her former friend once more. “Frankly, I don’t care what Ronald has to say. He doesn’t get to have an opinion on my love life.”

“Love life?”

Circe. “That’s not—” She looks back to Draco to help her. Instead, his arms are crossed over his chest, a cocky brow arched as he looks down at her with amusement.

“No, do go on. I’d love to hear this too.”

Prat. “Look, Harry, we will return the bike—”

“No, you will leave it here. I’ll take it home.” Hermione nods, shrinking under Harry’s scrutinous gaze. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, ‘Mione—”

She blurts out, “With me?” Scoffing, she continues. “No, you’re right. You wouldn’t know, would you?” She shakes her head. “How’s Ginny, by the way?” Hermione knows it’s a low blow, but Harry is looking at her right now like she’s a stranger he’s disappointed in.

Harry’s jaw clenches. “You should get back to Hogwarts.”

“At least that we can agree on.” Spinning on her heel, she meets Draco’s gaze and prays he doesn’t make another smart remark before she brushes by him so they can walk to the nearest apparition point.

“So, are we going to talk about that?” Draco catches up to her easily, considering the foot of height he has on her and the fact that she’s in heels.

“Nope.” She can’t get into her relationship with Harry right now. Not here, not with Draco. “Let’s just get back to school.”

“Or you could go on a date with me.”

That stops her in her tracks.

Her entire body flushes what she’s sure is a shade of Gryffindor red. “What? That’s not part of the game.”

“It’s part of our game.” He raises his brows. Her mind wanders to last night, their own version of truth or dare they played. “Truth or dare, Granger?”

She flashes back to the library, the line they precariously balanced on. “We have our dares, and my card says to go with you to the party tonight.”

“A party that doesn’t start for hours. So, we can sit in our dorms waiting around for it to start.” He steps closer to her and suddenly she’s struggling to breathe. “Or you can go on a date with me.” He bites his lip, waiting for her answer. “Come on, Granger? I dare you.”

Notes:

sorry this was a shorter one! it wrapped up in a nice little perfect bow and i couldn't bear to force any more words into it

thank you, as always, to ann <3

Chapter 9

“This place is really nice,” Hermione whispers as the hostess leads them through the restaurant to a table in the back.

“Here you are. Enjoy.”

Draco steps into the booth, sliding across the bench nearest them. Hermione steps ahead to get to the other side when her date’s hand darts out, lightly grabbing onto her as if her wrist is the snitch. She certainly feels caught. He tugs her down onto his side of the booth, causing her to let out a gasp.

She looks over at him with raised brows. “You’re a same side of the booth kind of guy?”

His gaze dances over her face, frequently landing on her lips. “Is that a problem?”

“I’ve just…never been with someone who wanted to sit on the same side as me. Most people think it’s weird.”

“Do you think it’s weird?”

 She considers it. “No.”

“Good. And we already know you don’t exactly have the best taste in wizards. If you sat too close to the Weasel your meal would be shovelled into his face before you even got a taste.”

Hermione elbows him and tries not to laugh, but his observation isn’t exactly wrong. She’s had to cover her plate even when sitting across from her ex. “Be nice to Ron.”

“No.”

Hermione sighs.

“After our interaction with Potter back there, I certainly haven’t grown a soft spot for your friends,” he says pointedly.

Hermione can’t argue with him there. “Well, my taste isn’t all bad. What about Blaise? He’s one of your friends after all.”

Draco rolls his eyes. “Like I said, Granger. You have shit taste in men.”

Before she can ask him to elaborate, a waitress comes over to take their drink order. “I’ll just have water, please. Sparkling.”

“I’ll have the same,” Draco says. Once the waitress walks away, he turns to her. “Water?”

“I want to have my wits about me.”

“I can’t imagine you’ve ever lost your wits, Granger.” He cocks his head to one side, perfect white teeth finding his bottom lip. “Unless you’re worried about being with me specifically.”

“What do you mean?”

“I make you nervous.”

“I’m not scared of you, Malfoy.”

“That’s not what I said.”

The waitress comes back all too quickly and Hermione hurries to take a large gulp of her water before ordering her meal.

When the waitress leaves, Draco turns to Hermione, studying her like he can’t understand her. “Explain it to me.”

“What?”

“Blaise. The appeal.”

Hermione feels warm all over, imagines her face turning an unflattering shade of red.

“I mean, it can’t just be because he’s handsome and rich.” His dark blonde brows raise pointedly.

She rolls her eyes in response. “Maybe it has to do with the fact that he’s nice to me. Treats me like an actual person.”

“He’s not that nice.”

Hermione rolls her head from side to side, considering Malfoy’s words. “Makes sense. Why else would he be friends with you?” She grins sweetly before taking a sip of her water.

“You don’t…you just don’t know him as well as you think.” He shifts in his seat as if growing uncomfortable.

She scoffs. “I never claimed to know him. It was a stupid crush.”

“Was?”

She freezes. “Hmm?”

He speaks carefully, deliberately. “You said it was a stupid crush. So, you don’t like him anymore?”

“I—” She’s at a loss of what to say.

She’s hardly thought about Blaise in the time she’s spent with Draco. She looks over at him, her eyes snagging on his lips, lingering there, remembering the feel of them against her own. Her heart races at the memory, at the taste of him. She licks her lips distractedly, and pulls her gaze from him with reluctance.

Whatever that kiss meant… It’s not… It doesn’t matter. Malfoy is a distraction, an effective one, surely, but nothing more. He can’t be.

Can he?

The burning in her cheeks resumes considering she spent the better part of the last two minutes staring at him, thinking of his lips, and hands, and the broad expanse of his scarred chest…

Clearing her throat, she deflects. “They’re feelings, Malfoy. It’s not as though I can turn them off and on with a flick of my wand.” Though she wishes she could, wishes she could understand whatever she’s feeling with the help of magic.  “But…” she takes a deep breath, huffing. “When you put yourself out there and he completely rejects you…I kind of have to move on. It would be embarrassing not to. To pine after someone who doesn’t want you…I’ve done that already,” she adds, mumbling under her breath, quiet enough so he can’t hear her.

It always comes back to freaking Lavender. First, with Ron. She liked him for years and he never saw her. He chose her instead . Now, the same thing’s happening with Blaise.

Why is it never Hermione? Why is she never enough? What does Lavender have that Hermione doesn’t? Why can’t she ever measure up?

“Granger? Are you listening?”

“Hmm?” she snaps her head up, eyes wide. She wasn’t listening.

Luckily, their food arrives before her mind can wander away again.

But Draco doesn’t let her off that easily. “I said, if you want someone to help you get over Zabini…” He smirks.

She pulls her gaze away, not taking him seriously. The kiss was one thing, but… “Oh, you’re offering?” Hermione snorts.

“So what if I am?”

She pauses with her fork halfway to her mouth. This is just more of his flirting. Another way to embarrass you as payback for the stripping. She takes a bite of her food and chews methodically. Should she call his bluff? Might be worth it if only to see his reaction.

Hermione bites her lip. “Well, you know the best way to get over someone, Malfoy, don’t you?”

Silver eyes dart to her lips. Is he thinking about their kiss again, too?  “I do.” They’re both leaning in slightly. At this rate, if they keep going…

Merlin, what has gotten into her!? Two days ago she was obsessed with his best friend. Yesterday, she may have seen him half naked and maybe she hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it—or picturing it in her mind—and an hour ago she may have kissed him, but this is Draco Malfoy. She knows him. She knows whatever game he’s playing is just that—part of the game.

Because why else would he have kissed her?

Hermione pulls back. Her voice is shaky when she says, “I already agreed to this date with you. Isn’t that enough?”

He licks his lip, swiping away a bit of butter. Hermione can’t help but track the movement. “Oh, Granger. This is only the beginning.” His eyes are seemingly glued to her lips but as they trail back up her face and meet her eyes once more, she finds his silver gaze darkened. Molten heat simmers in his expression.

Goosebumps pebble on her arms at his look alone. Under the table, his hand finds her thigh where he toys with the hem of her dress, fingertips delicately grazing her leg. Toying, teasing.

Her breath stutters and she forces herself to look down, to see him touching her, to see for herself if the heat of his touch is truly branding her like it feels it is.

“We should get going soon, yeah?” he says, his voice husky and close, lips hovering by her ear.

She’s afraid to answer, knowing her voice would come out in no more than a cracked whisper. Instead, she nods, and Draco’s hand cups her thigh, fingers squeezing into her flesh.

Butterflies erupt in her belly, heat coursing through her veins and she can’t even blame it on alcohol.

As Draco flags down their waitress, she tries to pay her half and the scolding look gives her has her biting her lip to hide her grin.

She climbs out of the booth and finds him staring down at his dare card, his brows furrowed. Quickly, he shoves it back into his pocket before looking at her.

“Everything okay?” she asks. Did he get a new dare? Is it about her?

“Yeah, I thought I felt my card heat up.” He shakes his head. “Must’ve imagined it.”

Digging through her bag from Lusso, she finds her own dare card and checks it just in case. Nothing’s changed, not that she really expected it to. The  same dare as earlier stares back at her, telling her to go to the party tonight with Draco.

As her date leads her out of the restaurant, his hand presses on her lower spine, palm grazing the open back of her dress. Once they step out onto Diagon Alley, Draco slips his hand into hers, their fingers intertwining.

They walk hand-in-hand to the apparition point. Every so often Hermione feels the graze of Draco’s thumb as it circles the back of her hand.

She can’t pin down his motive for any of this. The date, the flirting, the kiss , the willingness to play the game with her. Her mind races as she pours over every moment, trying to find what she’s missing, searching for an explanation but coming up short.

They stop at the apparition point, Draco facing Hermione and taking both of her hands in his. Her shopping back dangles between them, bumping him lightly on the thigh. He looks down, and his eyes catch on her forearm. She feels the weight of his gaze before she realises what he’s staring at.

Is that it, then? Is this game some kind of penance for everything she’s been through thanks to his blood?

Feeling self-conscious, she pulls her left hand from his grasp, tucking her arm against her body and hiding the ugly scar.

“Don’t.” His voice is rough, eyes hardened with anger. His left hand squeezes her right, rage tightening his hand around her. “Let me see.”

“No.”

“No?”

“If that’s what this is about, if it’s just because you feel bad—” Why is her voice coming out all watery?

“What are you talking about?”

“This! The game, the date…all of it. Is it just because you feel bad? You’re trying to make up for the past—”

“That’s not what this is at all.”

“Then what is it? Explain it to me? And why do you keep staring at my scar?” She feels childish, the urge to stomp her foot strong, but her frustration seeps out of her like noxious gas. It’s never about her. No one just wants her.

Ron dated her because he thought he should, because they were best friends and it felt like they were supposed to give it a try. After he chose someone else first, of course.

Viktor dated her because she was the only one not outwardly fawning over him. It was a chase, but it was never about her as a person.

Blaise, it seems, was nice to her just to get her test answers.

And now Malfoy is showing interest because he feels guilty because his aunt carved a slur into her arm.

“Is it so hard to believe that I actually might like you?”

She bursts out a cackle that both feels and sounds unhinged. “Yes, actually!”

“Granger—”

“No, I get it, Malfoy. You don’t need—this is unnecessary. You gave me your apology and we moved on. I’m just glad I finally know why you were so open to spending time with me. Well, your conscience is clear. This —” she holds up her arm, showcasing the jagged letters carved into her skin. “—isn’t your fault or responsibility. There’s nothing for you to repay. Now, I think I’m done with the game, so I’m going to—”

“Salazar, will you shut up?”

Hermione snaps her mouth shut.

Draco’s hands find her biceps and for the briefest of moments she feels the tension in the air change and she wonders if he’s going to kiss her again.

Instead, he steps away, one hand mussing up his hair. “I do feel bad about your scar, okay? Every time I see it, I feel like shit, knowing I should have stepped in and done something.”

“Draco—”

“No. I know I didn’t carve those letters into your arm and I probably couldn’t have stopped her from doing it, but I did nothing. And I’m sorry.” His eyes are clearer than she’s ever seen them. The expression on his face, the open regret, it breaks her.

Hermione licks her lips before swallowing over the sudden lump in her throat. She nods, her voice trapped behind her budding emotions.

“But I’m not spending time with you because of that, Granger. I want to spend time with you. I do like you, actually. You’re brilliant and sexy as hell and you deserve better than Zabini.”

An emotion-clogged laugh bubbles out of her. “And you’re better than Zabini?” she whispers.

His hands slide down her arms, their fingers tangling once more. “No,” he lets out a self-deprecating kind of laugh. “But I can be. I’m trying to be.”

Hermione blows out a heavy breath. This is all so fucking surreal. Draco Malfoy likes her? Her? It doesn’t make any sense.

She hates that she doesn’t believe him. There’s just this voice in her head telling her that no one could like her for her, especially not Draco sodding Malfoy.

“So, can we go to the party now?” He nods toward the date card sticking out of her bag. “Together?”

Hermione weighs her options. She can still bail and quit the game…or she can follow through and continue to prove everyone wrong.

And okay, maybe there’s the part of her that knows Lavender will be at this party, a part of her that wants to show up and show off and win this thing.

She’s Hermione Granger. She fought in a war. She survived, but everyone else seems to forget that. People still underestimate her.

Shaking out her curls, she takes a deep breath and squeezes Draco’s hand. Hermione fucking Granger is not a quitter.

Notes:

continued thanks to my beta <3

Chapter 10

Music floods the hallway as the doors to the Room of Requirement open and welcome them. The bodies packing the space part as Draco and Hermione appear and step inside. Cheers and whistles ensue, a few girls shrieking and giggling with Hermione while the guys clap Draco on the back.

With wide eyes, Hermione looks around, overwhelmed at the sheer amount of attention they’re receiving. Luckily, she spots Ginny in the crowd—bless her bright red hair—and drops Draco’s hand to beeline for her friend.

“Gin!” Hermione pulls the younger girl in for a hug.

“Damn! You look hot,” Ginny says while holding Hermione at arms’ length and dragging her gaze over her new dress. “And your tattoo. Damn. Malfoy did good.”

Hermione flushes, and promptly changes the subject. “What is going on? Why is everyone cheering and—”

“You guys made it to the final four.”

“What?” Hermione rears back. There’s no way that’s possible. No, she wasn’t keeping track of the other players, but the final four?

Ginny, however, nods. “It’s you, Draco, Theo, and…” The redhead pauses and bites her lip, but Hermione already knows who the fourth player is.

“Lavender,” Hermione says, resigned.

Ginny confirms with a nod. 

“Of course it is.” Hermione bites her lip, wavering between bringing up the topic of Harry or not. But considering Harry crashed the end of her last dare with Draco, the cameras may have captured him. “Have, um, have you talked to Harry?”

Ginny looks away shaking her head, her gaze pinned on the floor and lips pursed with hurt.

Is she upset at Harry or at Hermione?

“Did you see the end of my last dare with Malfoy?”

That brightens her brown eyes. “You mean the kiss!? I wasn’t sure if I could bring it up but since you did, tell me everything!” Ginny squeals.

“Oh um…” Hermione’s brows crinkle. “No, I meant, well, yes, that happened but—”

“What? Spit it out,” the redhead insists with a giggle.

Hermione pulls her toward the side of the room where it’s not as loud and they can talk more privately. “We ran into Harry. At Kings Cross Station,” she spills rapidly, as if confessing to a betrayal.

“What?” The word is hardly more than a breath leaving Ginny’s mouth.

“He kind of…caught us, with Sirius’s bike. He was pissed. Didn’t the cameras…?”

“I don’t know, I…I was distracted after your kiss. I didn’t finish watching.” She wrings her hands in front of her. “What was he doing there?”

Hermione shrugs. “Working, I think. He was in his auror robes.”

“Oh.” Her face falls. “Right. Of course.”

“Gin…”

“No, I just…” she laughs but it lacks emotion. “It’s stupid. I thought maybe he was trying to catch a train, surprise me…”

“I’m sorry, Ginny. I wasn’t sure if I should tell you I saw him.”

“It’s fine. We haven’t…I mean, we haven’t talked in a while, anyway. It was stupid.”

“It’s not—”

She cuts Hermione off. “What did he say?”

She winces. “We, ah, we got into it a little bit. I may have…” She pauses.

“Merlin, ‘Mione, you what?” the younger girl snaps.

With a sigh, she admits, “I sort of yelled at him for treating you so poorly.”

Ginny freezes. “You didn’t.”

“I’m sorry. He was…he was being a complete arse, Gin, and—”

“It’s okay. Really.” Her smile isn’t convincing. “You’re a good friend, ‘Mione.”

“Ginny…”

The youngest Weasley shakes her head as if forcing the drama from her mind. “More importantly, let’s get back to you and the kiss and did I see you holding Malfoy’s hand as you walked in?”

Hermione’s cheeks heat. “It’s…complicated.”

“Oh, I think we covered that.” She smirks. “So what happened to it’s just one day and it’s just a game? Did we skip right past the friend stage with him orrrrrr?”

“I think I need a drink if we’re going there.”

Ginny grins wickedly, links their arms together, and pulls her toward the bar.

They slip through bodies, people gossiping and dancing. Music plays loudly overhead, twinkling lights flash but the room is otherwise dark.

“What is behind the doors?” Sporadically placed throughout the room are what look like classroom doors.

“The Room extends beyond them. They’re privacy rooms. For dares or hookups,” Ginny winks over her shoulder.

On the far back wall is a screen with a projection of the game. Someone or something flips through and replays various dares from other classmates. Hermione watches the current dare play out where Hannah Abbott tries to catnap Mrs. Norris, and fails.

She’s lucky she didn’t get expelled.

As they approach the bar, Hermione spots a familiar face mixing and serving up the drinks.

“Hey, sorry about your dare,” Hermione says in greeting. “I caught it this morning. Ballsy.”

“Go big or go home.” Seamus shrugs. “What can I get ya?”

Hermione grimaces. “Where’s your partner?” She normally trusts Dean’s drinks a hell of a lot more than Seamus’s. Mainly because the latter is as good at bartending as he was at Potions. Mixing things is just not his forte.

“He’s around, grabbing more bottles.” In addition to unofficially stepping into the shoes Fred and George metaphorically left behind, the two of them became the defunct bartenders for all of Hogwarts parties this year.

Hoping for something he can’t mess up, she tells him, “Pour me something strong. It’s been a hell of a day.”

“Oh, I know exactly what kind of day you’ve been having.” Seamus smirks. “Where is loverboy anyway?”

“He’d probably avada you if he heard you call him that.”

“He can try.” Seamus smirks and passes a goblet of something pink over to Hermione. “I call that an Obliviate, because once you drink it you’ll forget everything by morning.”

Hermione makes a mental note to sip slowly.

“Get your boy over here and I’ll make him a Liquid Luck. Seems he might need it if he’s trying to get in your pants.”

“Fuck off Seamus,” she says through a laugh. Taking a sip of her drink, she’s pleasantly surprised that it’s not bad.

“I know I’m no finalist, but I’d like a drink too,” Ginny says.

Seamus rolls his eyes and starts on Ginny’s drink. “What’s your next dare?” he asks. “Everyone’s waiting to see if you and Malfoy go all the way. In the game, I mean.” He smirks. He definitely did not mean in the game.

Hermione rolls her eyes. “I don’t know yet. My last dare was just to come to the party with him. Now I wait, I guess.” She grabs the dare card but finds it suspiciously blank.

“There you are.” Draco sidles up behind her at the bar, the words whispered in her ear.

She spins and looks up at him, finds heat in his silver gaze.

“Okay, ew.”

Hermione turns to look at Ginny.

“If this is how you two are going to be now I’m going to need to drink a lot of ginger tea. For the nausea. Of seeing all that.” She faux gags as she looks between them.

“What can I get ya, mate? Liquid Luck?” Seamus asks.

Hermione whips around. “If you don’t knock it off he won’t need to avada you because I will,” she hisses through clenched teeth.

“So you’re saying he doesn’t need luck, then?

Hermione narrows her gaze.

“Just a firewhiskey,” Draco says. “What’s he on about?” he asks in Hermione’s ear.

“Nothing,” she snaps as the Slytherin quirks a pale brow.

“Draco!”

Merlin is this how it’s going to be the entire time? Hermione turns to find Theo and…Blaise approaching. Fuck.

She shrinks into Draco until their sides are touching.

“Ginevra. In another life we could’ve teamed up like Draco and Granger here?” Theo winks before turning toward Hermione. “Granger,” he greets. “You two have had quite the adventure together, yeah?”

Hermione clears her throat. “Nothing compared to your dare earlier.”

“You saw that?” She nods. “Well, as much as I enjoy having the memory of Draco stripping burned into my retinas, I would’ve preferred to see you up there.” Theo reaches for her, his thumb grazing against her arm.

Be brave, Hermione. You’re a bloody Gryffindor after all. She shrugs off his comment and looks up at Draco. “I don’t know. I don’t mind having the memory burned into my mind.”

“Is that right?” Draco asks through a smirk.

She bites her lip, lifting her goblet to take a drink as she holds eye contact.

“So, you two are a thing now?” Blaise asks, though she can’t place the meaning behind his tone.

It’s like all the other noise around them ceases to exist with those words coming from that wizard. The music quiets, her classmates disappear, the oversized projection of the dares on the back wall vanishes.

“I guess since you didn’t want her, Draco decided to take her for a ride.” Theo winks.

The slow rolling heat of anger entangled with embarrassment snakes its way along Hermione’s skin.

“Theo!” Ginny gasps at the same time as Draco snaps, “The fuck is wrong with you, Nott?”

“What?” Theo blinks, head swivelling between Draco and Hermione’s gazes.

Either he’s a really good actor or he truly has no idea that he’s being a giant arse.

“It’s fine, Draco,” Hermione starts before glaring at the two Slytherins opposite her. “We’re—”

A second round of screeching applause halts her words. She looks around, noticing everyone once again facing the door. At her height, Hermione can’t see who or what they’re looking at, but considering the applause she received on arrival, she has a good guess.

“Hey, Lav!” Theo calls, amplifying his voice over the crowd.

Hermione feels like she’s watching in slow motion as the crowd parts like a sea and Lavender appears. Her friend is certainly in her element in the wave of attention she’s receiving.

She’s smiling, chatting to everyone. Her right palm lays against her chest as if she’s at all modest about the attention.

The bouncy blonde flits and flirts her way through the crowd until she’s pushing to stand in the middle of Theo and Blaise.

“Well, hello boys,” Lavender purrs.

Hermione has the sudden urge to shoot Blaise’s earlier words back at him; ‘so, you three are friends now?’

“Hermione,” Lavender drawls in greeting, boredom in her tone.

“Lav. Congrats on making the final four.” It’s an olive branch, even if the words come out through a pasted on, forced smile.

“Thanks.” She offers no congrats in return. “I should probably go. I’m waiting on my next dare.”

“So am I,” Hermione offers with a wave of her blank date card.

All at once a lull of silence falls over the room. The music stops, cut off in the middle of a song. The lights dim and brighten, focusing like a spotlight on the back wall where the projection of the game is being played.

Their four names show up in a square on the screen in  boxes like their parchment dare cards; Draco and Hermione side-by-side on top and Lavender and Theo on the bottom.

People all around them part, creating a circle as the four of them stand together watching the screen. Their names start to shuffle on the screen. Slowly and then quickly, scrambling faster than Hermione can follow her own name.

When their names are nothing more than a constant beige blur, the screen goes black. Murmurs fill the space, and Hermione is too enraptured to look away, to risk missing a single detail.

The screen starts…peeling almost, the black folding in on itself. Every inch that gets exposed shows the brown colour of parchment filling the screen.

Hermione holds her breath as letters start to appear, revealing one single name. Theo.

She sighs in relief, looking up at Draco. His face is hard, eyes a fraction wider than usual, jaw sharp with tight muscle.

Her brows cave in with worry until he looks down at her and the expression melts away. She pushes up to her tiptoes to ask him, “You okay?”

He nods, but his eyes are still cold. “Just nervous.”

“You can drop out you know,” Hermione says coyly. “There can only be one winner after all.”

“And you think it’s going to be you?” His pale brow arches, his smirk reappearing.

Whispering in his ear, she tells him, “Well, I’m sure as hell not going to let it be Lavender.”

Draco laughs. “I’ll help you win,” he promises her.

“Only if you lose your dare. Fair is fair.”

“Sure, Granger.” But something about the way he says it feels foreboding. She hopes he doesn’t plan to throw the game for her. As fun as this has been, she wishes they could both win. She wouldn’t have gotten this far without him, anyway.

Refocusing back on the screen, more words start unveiling in perfect script. This time, the words are read aloud, accompanied by a deep male voice Hermione doesn’t recognise, something charmed to protect the game makers, surely.

 

Welcome to the final four. Only the most daring can make it to the end of the game.

 

Well, that certainly sounds like a Gryffindor in Hermione’s opinion. The words disappear and everyone in the room seems to wait with bated breath.

A montage of his dares play on the screen, and Hermione’s jaw drops as she watches. Theo has ridden on the back of an acromantula, gotten tangled in devil’s snare—though he seems to be mildly enjoying it and Hermione does not want to know what is happening under the tangle of vinelike limbs—and dangled one-handed from the Astronomy Tower.

 

Theo,

You have proven you’re not afraid to go to great lengths to win this game.

Yet, one question remains. Do you have the Nerve to give up control?

 

 Whispers bloom all around them as the words slowly vanish and the room goes completely dark. Hermione leans into Draco, taking comfort in his closeness.

Finally, the twinkling lights turn back on, creating a dim glow in the room and letter by letter, Theo’s dare is displayed for all the seventh and eighth years to see.

 

Theo, your dare is as follows.

 

A floating tray hovers before him with a single potion vial containing a clear liquid. Immediately, Hermione has an idea of what his dare will entail and based on the way Theo stiffens beside her, he knows too.

 

Drink the vial of Veritaserum and answer three of my questions.

 

“Fuck. FUCK!” Theo bellows.

Apart from a few rogue whispers followed by a chorus of shushes, silence fills the Room of Requirement.

Theo paces and everyone watches as he makes up his mind. “Come the fuck on. I’ll do anything. Want me to streak through the forbidden forest? Take Amortentia? Seduce McGonagall?”

That earns him a round of snickers.

“I can’t even know what the three questions are before I take it?” He asks, to no one in particular, yet new letters unfold on the screen under his dare.

 

You have one minute to decide.

 

Accompanying the words is a countdown clock, seconds ticking away without a decision.

“Okay. Okay.” Theo reaches for the vial, his hand shaking. Holding it in front of him, he turns, eyes flitting between Blaise and Draco. “Don’t let me—”

“We won’t,” Blaise answers.

A chair appears on a makeshift stage, a spotlight beckoning Theo forward.

“Okay. Fuck.” He tosses the potion back, shaking his head as it slides down his throat.

The crowd erupts in cheers as he swallows the potion, parting to let him through as Blaise follows behind him. Hermione and Draco are left with Lavender and Ginny as the two Slytherin boys make their way to the back of the room.

“What do you think they’ll ask him,” Ginny asks, moving to Hermione’s other side.

“I don’t know, Gin.” The game made it seem like Theo’s been using the game to hide his vulnerabilities. “Maybe something with who he likes or an ex?” She looks up at Draco. “Do you have any idea why Theo was freaking out about the dare?”

Draco has to unclench his jaw to answer. “Could be any number of reasons,” he says simply.

Right. Not going to spill his best friend’s secrets.

Beside Ginny stands Lavender, her arms crossed over her chest in her pink crop top. “Lav,” Hermione calls. The blonde whips her head to the side, meeting Hermione’s gaze. “Can we talk?”

Lavender scoffs. “Why, so you can insult me some more?”

Hermione tries to swallow her anger. She truly does.

She fails.

“Like you’ve been insulting me since we’ve known each other?”

Lavender stares at her for a beat, eyes darting between Hermione to Draco and back again. “I gotta go.”

Hermione sighs, watching as she heads the same direction Blaise and Theo took off toward only moments ago. She’s not sure they’ll be able to move past their fight and really, she’s not sure she wants to anymore. She tried to be friends with Lavender, but at what cost?

“Are you okay?” Draco asks.

Hermione shrugs. “I think so.” If not, she will be. She’s survived worse than Lavender Brown.

In the front of the room finally, Hermione sees Theo sit on a lone chair on the stage beneath the game projection. The screen is lit up but she doesn’t see Blaise or Lavender or anyone else for that matter, aside from silhouettes and shadows all around her.

Hermione looks around her, catching Draco’s eye, his expression tense. Ginny’s hand on her arm pulls her attention away from her partner. She’d almost forgotten her friend was still standing beside her.

“I’m, um, going to find Luna. I told her and Neville I’d meet up with them.”

Hermione nods and returns her gaze to the back of the room as Ginny slips through the crowd.

The screen lights up once more and Theo becomes shrouded in light where he perches on the makeshift stage. He’s looking around, his leg bouncing anxiously as he waits for his three questions.

 

Question number one:

‘What was the last potion you brewed?’

 

Theo grits his teeth and rolls his neck as if testing the limits of the potion. When he clears his throat, the sound is magnified for every person to hear.

Hermione gasps. The vial must have been imbued with a sonorous charm. That’s really complex magic, Hermione thinks. Professors Slughorn and Flitwork worked together in Potions class one day to teach everyone how to combine the two, and most of the class couldn’t replicate their results.

Except for Hermione and…

“Veritaserum,” Theo answers clearly. His expletive of “Fuckers,” comes out as a mumble under his breath afterwards.

Hermione’s mind reels. Was the Veritaserum he just took the potion he himself brewed?

As soon as the question is answered, the words disappear from the screen and a new set unfolds.

Hermione’s eyes widen as the words appear and she sneaks a glance at her date. Draco’s jaw is sharp and defined thanks to the way he’s clenching his teeth. His eyes are hard steel glaring at his friend upon the stage.

 

‘Who is the last person you had sex with?’

 

Shocked whispers ring out in the room, people immediately starting to gossip, leaning into their friends and dates with grins of mischief.

Hermione only feels pity for Theo. He didn’t ask for his personal life to be put on display. Then again, he could have said no to the dare. Still, he didn’t know that was going to be asked.

As Hermione focuses on Theo, his hands curl into fists on his knees. His jaw is clenched tight, lips rolled. He’s actively trying to fight the potion. His hair flops with every aggressive shake of his head from side to side and his knee is bouncing more and more harshly with every passing beat.

He really, really does not want to answer this question, that much is clear.

But he’s going to have to open his mouth eventually, if only to take a breath, and when he does—

“Ginevra Weasley.”

Chapter 11

After Theo drops that bomb, the room becomes a flurry of activity, everything happening at once.

The hushed whispers from before turn into a frenzy of chatter. Hermione’s jaw falls open, a gasp slipping from her lips. Oh my gods.

“Fuck. Ginny!” Theo bounces off the stage, foregoing the last question as he runs through the crowd. She loses sight of Theo through throngs of people, and on the screen on the back wall, the words of Theo’s last dare fade away. In their place, the screen reads:

 

Dare failed. Eliminated.

 

Turning back to Draco, Hermione utters a quick, “I need to find Ginny,” before rushing off.

Hermione pushes through crowds of people, catching judgment and gossip with every group she passes.

“Ginny cheated on Harry?”

“Are they even still together?” Followed by, “Probably not anymore.”

“I overheard Ginny crying outside of the Great Hall last week.”

“Because of Harry? Or because she’s a slut?”

One conversation makes Hermione pause, taking the time to press onto her tiptoes and search the room for long red hair as she eavesdrops.

“What does this mean for Harry and Ron?”

“Probably nothing. You saw how they treated Hermione when she and Ron broke up. The three of them don’t even talk anymore.”

“Yeah, but Ginny is Ron’s sister. It’s different.”

“I guess we’ll see.”

Hermione whips around to glare at the offending parties, finding Pansy Parkinson with Daphne Greengrass. Of course.

Pansy looks Hermione square in the eye as she says, “And you saw what happened to Hermione Granger since, right, Daph? Slumming it with the snakes. Maybe she should check Draco’s dares and see how he really feels about her.”

Hermione stumbles backwards, away from the nasty, raven-haired Slytherin and her conspiring friend.

She shakes her head, ignoring Pansy’s words. They’re just words. Pansy Parkinson is a liar. She’s intentionally trying to get under Hermione’s skin, as she has for years.

So why is Hermione’s hand shaking? Why can’t she swallow all of a sudden? Why has the kernel of doubt grown into a boulder at the witch’s words? Hermione already didn’t believe Draco could like her. She already suspected he was lying or just playing the game.

Why didn’t Hermione think to watch any of his dares? What if this was the game all along? To get her to fall for him, and then embarrass her.

Steeling herself, she shoves those emotions into a box to address later. The room goes dark before she can spiral any further and the black screen shows her name along with Draco’s and Lavender’s. As it did before, the screen starts to spin and shuffle their names.

Heart in her throat, Hermione can’t help but watch, praying it’s not her turn. Luckily, the screen reads Lavender.

Hermione sighs and turns away. She doesn’t need to worry about her housemate’s dare right now. She just needs to find Ginny.

Along the back wall, Hermione spots one of the doors to the private party rooms cracked open. She rushes toward it, wondering if Ginny had slipped inside to hide from the rest of the students gossiping about her and calling her names.

Behind her, the screen must go dark, but Hermione pays it no mind. Not even when gasps ring out around her or when her classmates whistle and catcall. She has a one track mind, and she needs to find her friend.

Pushing open the door, Hermione learns all too quickly that, for one, Ginny is not hiding out in this room and also, she quickly determines what the other seventh and eighth years were hollering about.

In the private room is a bed where Blaise Zabini lays shirtless with a half-naked Lavender on top of him. Fluttering around the room recording the entire thing is Lavender’s Nerve camera.

Lavender’s legs straddle Blaise’s waist, her hands pressed to his chest as his grabher arse. They look more like they’ve been arguing than kissing or anything more than that, but clearly if they haven’t gone further yet, they’re headed in that direction.

Hermione scoffs, the sound leaving her throat before she can stop it. At the sound, Lavender whips her head around, long blonde curls skating across her back. She averts her gaze as her roommate turns toward her, not needing to see Lav’s bare chest.

“You know, everyone out there is watching what you two are doing in here.” Hermione lets out a laugh. “Though, I suppose it’s nothing half of them haven’t seen anyway.” She winces at her own harsh words. Merlin, she’s no better than everyone else out there calling Ginny a slut.

With a roll of her eyes, Lavender says, “Who cares? I’m proud of my body. They’re just breasts, Hermione. Everyone has them.” She crosses her arms over her chest but makes no move to climb off of Blaise’s lap.

Hermione looks at them, really looks at them for the first time since walking in on them. She shakes her head as the realisation sinks in. Her roommate, who she once thought was maybe her friend, is hooking up with Blaise. Even after knowing how Hermione felt about him.

“What is wrong with you?”

“Why are you even here?” Lavender screeches.

“I’m looking for Ginny. My actual friend.” Hermione turns to leave, but fire scorches up her arms, flooding her veins and igniting in her fingertips and she can’t help herself. “Gods, Lavender. This is just fucking like you.” She turns back to face her roommate, no longer caring at her state of undress. “Does it make you feel good about yourself? Taking everything away from me just because you can?”

Lavender grins and it’s cruel. “I didn’t have to take him. He wanted me. Just like Ron did.”

Blaise starts to sit up and pushes Lavender off of his lap. “Look, I’m sorry, Hermione. I didn’t mean to get in the middle of…whatever this is.”

“You don’t need to apologise to her,” Lavender snaps.

Blaise opens his mouth but Hermione holds up her palm, stopping him. “No, she’s right. You don’t owe me a thing. You like Lavender and Lavender likes hurting me. I can’t fault you for going for it.” Hermione shakes her head.

“He didn’t even play Nerve, you know,” Lavender starts. “He just signed up to watch me. He probably picked all my dares, set everything up.”

“Like you set up the camera to record all of this?” Hermione’s lip curls in disgust. “I am so over this.” She turns back for the door, her hand on the knob. “When you’re done with whatever the hell you think this is, Lav, it’s your turn for your dare. I wouldn’t want to win because you forfeit.” She turns her head, talking over her shoulder. “I want to win because I fucking took it from you.”

With that, she storms out of the room, nearly slamming into Draco on the other side.

“Hey.” His face is stricken with concern, hesitant grey eyes searching hers, trying to read her. “Are you okay?”

She nods once. “I’m fine.”

He looks at her, searching her eyes.

Hermione sighs. She’s… 

She gives herself a moment, letting the argument with Lavender and everything she just walked in on sink in. Replaying it all in her mind, it dawns on her that she didn’t lie to Draco. She really is fine. She’s not jealous about Lav being with Blaise in that way like she would have expected.

She’s only mad at her roommate because she knows Lavender set that up on purpose. She wanted to get under Hermione’s skin, wanted her to see it. That’s why she let the camera record it all.

Worry creases her forehead as she remembers what she was doing when she walked into that room in the first place.

Running a hand over her hair, she pushes up onto her tiptoes again for another futile look through the crowd. “Have you seen Ginny?”

Draco shakes his head. “Theo left, and I’m assuming Ginny did too.”

“Right. Fine. That’s just…fine.” She sighs, her soul feeling like it weighs three tons.

She’s stuck in a limbo of sorts. She can’t leave to find Ginny unless she forfeits the game. She can’t do a dare until the room or players or whoever decide it’s her turn, and she can’t take her turn until fucking Lavender comes out.

She glances to the back wall as sound erupts from Lavender’s camera. Blaise is holding out Lavender’s shirt, his own chest covered once more by his own.

“We don’t need to leave.”

“You heard Hermione. Everyone out there is watching.” Blaise looks directly into the camera, his eyes hardening slightly.

“So what?”

He scoffs. “So, I don’t need to ruin my life with a sex tape, Lav.”

“Oh my god, who cares? It’s just sex! Fuck. You’re all a bunch of fucking prudes.” She yanks her shirt back over her head, fluffing her hair where the fabric trapped it against her back. “You should have ended up with Hermione.” The blonde rolls her eyes. “Too bad you missed your chance. Though, I’m not convinced she’s into Malfoy, so maybe you still have a shot.”

Lavender knows exactly what she’s doing and saying.

Hermione looks over at Draco who’s as still as a statue. “Draco—” she starts, wanting to explain but not knowing what to say. The words Pansy spoke earlier still ring loud in her head, and worst of all she believes them. Worries that Draco could be using her. If she puts herself out there now—

“It’s fine, Granger.” Based on the tension in his jaw, it’s not fine.

The camera pans, following Lavender as she reaches for the door to the private room. As soon as she re-enters the party, all of the other seventh and eighth years whistle and holler at her.

Lavender acts like she likes it, but Hermione notices the look on her face. She’s smiling, but it’s forced. The tip of her nose is red like she’s holding back tears. She’s masking her pain, the vulnerability lying just under the surface of her rouged cheeks.

Shit. Guilt slams into Hermione, her emotions warring with one another. Why does Lavender make it so hard to be her friend?

She’s torn. Does she go to Lavender, talk to Draco, or abandon everything to find Ginny?

In her periphery, Lavender moves to the middle of the room and faces the back wall, awaiting her dare.

As if somehow knowing she’s appeared, the feed blackens before text pops up the same as it did for Theo.

Hermione watches, her decision made, and somehow she chose none of the above. She stands frozen, reading Lavender’s dare as they unfurl on the large screen.

 

Lavender, your dare is simple.

You’ve already bared all for everyone to see.

Now face your greatest fear.

Skinny dip in the Black Lake.

 

A hysterical laugh bubbles out of Lavender’s throat as the words appear and settle onto the screen. “What? No. What the fuck. No. This is—this has to be a joke. How did they—who even knows about that?”

Lavender is terrified of the giant squid and won’t even go near the Black Lake. She couldn’t stop talking about it during fourth year when Harry was in the Triwizard Tournament and Hermione was one of the hostages. Anyone could have overheard her talking about it.

 

You have one minute to decide.

 

Lavender starts pacing the floor, her hands sinking into her blonde curls. Similar to Theo, she starts bargaining, as if whoever is running the game can hear her and is willing to make deals.

“I’ll do literally anything else! Come on, that’s not fucking fair!” She whirls around, finding Draco and Hermione in the crowd. “She got a fucking tattoo! And he just had to strip! Hell, give me Theo’s dare! I’ll take fucking Veritaserum! That’s not fucking fair!”

The clock starts counting down. Thirty seconds to go.

Lavender is babbling, demanding another dare. Ire burns in her gaze as she screams, her pleading going unanswered until the countdown ends.

 

Dare failed. Eliminated.

 

Almost instantly, the screen pulls up Draco and Hermione’s name. It’s quick to decide as the screen goes black and this time, Hermione’s name ends up front and centre.

Her pulse races in her veins, heart thumping loudly against her ribs. There’s no preamble, no shuffling of names, no big show. The dare appears quickly, simply.

Hermione could kiss whoever is controlling this game.

 

Hermione Granger

Your task is simple

Complete Lavender’s dare

Skinny dip in the Black Lake

You have one minute to decide

 

The text all appears at once and it’s the easiest decision Hermione has made. “I accept,” she announces aloud, assuming someone is here to monitor and track the game and players.

Spinning on her heel, the crowd parts for her as she heads toward the door to the Room of Requirement to complete Lavender’s dare.

***

A small group of people follow Hermione down to the Black Lake. Most of her classmates stayed back in the Room of Requirement for the party and, much to her dismay, probably because they’ll have a better view of her dare from there.

She shivers at the thought.

Mere minutes ago she was chastising Lavender for nearly creating a sex tape and having all of their friends see her naked. Now she’s nearly about to be in the same scenario.

She walks down the dock, Draco and a bunch of their classmates following behind her. The small camera flutters around her, circling her as she approaches the water.

With narrowed eyes, she tracks the camera and snatches it out of the air quickly. Turning back, she asks Draco, “Can you hold onto this?”

The camera fights her grip and tries to break free as she passes it along to her Slytherin partner. Her arse is one thing, but the dare is to skinny dip, not for the entire school to see her tits.

Kneeling down, Hermione’s hands shake as she undoes the clasp of her right shoe and repeats the action on her left. Barefoot, she stands up and reaches up to undo the bow at her neck, tugging the halter free. On instinct, she grabs the fabric at her chest, not wanting it to fall and expose herself.

Knowing she’s going to have to bare all anyway, before undressing fully, she turns back to Draco once more. “Do not let anyone steal my clothes.”

He smirks, his eyes drifting downward to where she’s covering herself, before nodding in agreement.

Merlin, she hopes she can trust him.

Gathering her legendary Gryffindor courage, she takes a deep breath and faces the lake. Then she drops the top half of the dress, letting it fall before moving her hands to her waist and shoving the fabric the rest of the way over her hips until it falls to the wooden dock.

Behind her, several classmates clap, cheer, and whistle. She straightens her shoulders, her hair shifting along her back. She walks to the very edge of the dock, painfully aware of the several sets of eyes surely staring at her arse by now. Her toes curl over the ledge of the dock before she bends her legs and quickly dives straight into the murky water.

The water is bitterly cold, but the adrenaline pushes her forward, arms and legs slicing through the lake. She’s a few feet further than where she started when she breaks the surface with a gasp.

Applause greets her, her classmates cheering and clapping as she faces them. She starts swimming back toward the dock where Draco is now standing at the edge, the camera in hand.

Her hands wrap around the ledge, but she doesn’t get out just yet, not wanting her friends to see her shivering, naked body. “Did I do it?” she asks. “Check my dare card.” She points toward her discarded dress.

Kneeling down, Draco tugs the parchment free, turning it to show Hermione the words etched on the card.

Dare complete.

Hermione laughs, adrenaline and excitement pumping through her veins. She hardly even notices the cold anymore.

As she looks up at Draco, the wings of the camera die down, the flickering light turning off.

“The camera’s off,” she notes.

“Guess they’re giving you your privacy after all.” He offers her a hand.

Hermione lifts up with her fingers enough to peer around Draco. “Can, uh, can you get everyone else to leave?”

Draco’s eyes heat at her words, at the implication. “And what about me, Granger?” he asks, voice husky.

Hermione bites her lip, fighting a grin she can’t contain.

Adrenaline courses through her veins. She feels high on accomplishment, on her dare, on the game, on Draco. She wants to hold onto this feeling, extend it, drown in it.

She wants to do something equally daring.

The words Pansy Parkinson uttered to her earlier don’t even cross her mind. She isn’t self-conscious; isn’t thinking about how this weekend started, her embarrassment with Blaise, Lavender’s multiple betrayals and their fights. She’s not thinking about Ginny or Harry or Theo; not her schoolwork or the fact that nearly one hundred people just saw her naked.

She’s Hermione fucking Granger, war heroine, Nerve finalist. And all she wants to do right now is kiss Draco sodding Malfoy.

Standing and spinning to face the lingering crowd, Draco tells them, “Show’s over.” He waits as a few people leave, but a group of people stay, giggling to one another. “Fucking leave,” he snaps.

Grumbling, the rest of their classmates disappear and only after casting a revelio and confirming every last person has left, does Draco turn back around with a cocky grin and a quirked brow.

“We should probably get back.” He says the words like a test, like bait he doesn’t expect her to take.

“Probably.” Hermione’s teeth are chattering but she pays them no mind as she looks up at the handsome blond. Her feet can touch the ground but she keeps her legs moving, trying to keep herself warm. “It’s probably time for your dare now,” she notes.

With Theo and Lavender eliminated, it’s down to the two of them, and Hermione just completed hers.

“Draco,” she starts, waits as his eyes scour over her freckles and meet her gaze. “I dare you to join me.”

Chapter 12

Draco looks down at her, and Hermione wonders for a moment if the lake is as black as the name suggests, or if Draco can see her beneath the surface, see shadows or curves or anything else.

“I don’t think we’re playing the game right now.”

Hermione bites her lip, her eyes hot on his. “Come in anyway.”

“You just want to see me strip again.”

If the water weren’t keeping her cold, she’s sure a blush would warm her cheeks. “So what if I do?” Hermione asks.

Without another word, Draco parts the buttons on his shirt until he’s able to slide the fabric over his shoulders, allowing it to fall to the wooden dock.

Her eyes drink him in, selfish in their slow perusal. It’s nothing she hasn’t seen before at this point, but she’s no longer ashamed of her blatant appreciation of him.

His chest and arms are filled out with lean muscle, nothing like the scared, skinny boy she once knew. Her eyes bounce along the sectumsempra scars bisecting his chest, the marks her once-best friend carved into Draco. Even with those silvery imperfections, he’s infuriatingly beautiful.

She wants to reach out, to climb onto the dock, to touch him. Her fingers twitch with the urge to trace over the perfect, detailed lines of his tattoo.

But then her mind goes blank as his hands move to his trousers and Hermione thinks she may stop breathing. He flicks the button open, drags the zipper down, and beneath his tailored trousers are black briefs, similar to what he wore the last time he stripped for her.

Except everything is different this time. There’s no dare standing between them, no crowd of hen dos or drunk bachelors screaming for attention.

It’s just them.

Tension crackles in the air as heady desire floods her veins. She pushes up on her tiptoes, eager anticipation making it impossible to stay still. Draco’s eyes flit downward, at the fresh expanse of clavicle shown from her movements.

Before his pants fall to the dock, he toes off his shoes, shifting them aside and letting his expensive trousers join his shirt. Unfortunately, before he removes his briefs, he tugs his socks off his feet, leaving him with one last article of clothing.

Hermione’s eyes dart from his fit body to his eyes and back again, drowning in his gaze.

“This isn’t fair, you know. You made me turn around before you jumped in.”

She cocks her head to one side, teasingly. “You want me to turn around, Malfoy?”

He drags his thumb along his bottom lip, eyes full of moonlight flashing. “I didn’t say that. I just said it wasn’t fair.” Without further preamble, Draco pushes his thumbs into the waistband of his pants and shucks them down his legs.

Hermione stares, wide-eyed and unable to look away, as Draco’s impressive erection springs free and bobs before standing at attention.

She licks her lips subconsciously and catches Draco’s famed smirk as he steps toward her to the end of the dock.

The Slytherin dives into the lake, submerging and quickly reappearing with a gasping breath.

The water is shallow enough to stand but deep enough that she’s covered to her shoulders. Draco’s entire chest is nearly out of the water where he towers over her, wading through the lapping waves as he moves toward her.

“This is how you wanna play it, Granger?”

“Yeah,” she says, the word just a hair too breathy, betraying her.

Draco stops in front of her, close enough to easily reach out and touch her. She’s painfully aware that they’re both naked, separated by only a few inches of black water.

He looks down at her with his smug, handsome face. “I have a few things I’d like to dare you to do.”

“Like what?”

He’s right in front of her now, and she has to look up at him. He eclipses the moon and it feels like they’re hidden in the shadows together, nothing but the water lapping gently against them.

“Kiss me,” he says.

Hermione’s breath hitches, and she licks her lips. “That wasn’t a dare.”

He offers her a slight quirk of his lips. “Do it anyway.”

Her palms find his bare, chilled chest and the muscles react under her touch. Her mind wanders down a dangerous path, but for the first time, she doesn’t run away from her thoughts. She doesn’t cower from her wishes or her fears, no matter how they both scare her almost equally.

She confronts them. She’s a Gryffindor, after all.

Hermione takes the leap, admitting to herself that what she desperately wants is for all of this to be real. That whatever is happening between her and Draco isn’t solely because of the game, even if it was the catalyst to…to whatever they are now.

It’s exhilarating and terrifying and she sees what looks to her like matching thoughts swirling in Draco’s storm-grey eyes.

Then all at once, Hermione pushes up onto her toes and Draco slides his hands around her naked back and with her own hands finding his neck, she pulls his lips to hers.

His hands slide down her body under the water, skating over her side and grabbing at her arse. Weightless thanks to the water, he lifts her easily, and she lets him, wrapping her legs around his waist without breaking the kiss.

She’s half-exposed in this position, her breasts pinned to Draco’s chest. Beneath her, she feels all of him, where his bare cock is slotted between her legs. Her hips begin to shift on instinct, the pair of them moaning into each other.

As their lips part, her tongue pokes out, seeking entry to his mouth that he happily grants. Their tongues tangle, exploring and learning one another. She rubs herself tighter against him, wrapping her arms around his neck, elbows dropping over his shoulders.

Draco groans into her mouth, squeezing her bum, his fingers spread on each cheek. More, Hermione thinks. She wants more.

He drags her body along his hard length—impressive considering the temperature of the lake—offering precious friction against her swollen clit.

He breaks the kiss, damn him. “Granger, we don’t—”

“I want to, Draco,” she says, cutting him off. She meets his gaze, finds those silver eyes darkened with wide-blown pupils. She wonders if her gaze is as wrecked as his. She feels as though it must be.

She’s so tired of planning and overthinking every single thing. If playing Nerve taught her anything, it’s to live in the moment. And more than that, to enjoy every moment life has to offer.

Granted, maybe she’d feel differently if her dares were as extreme as Theo’s.

She wants to focus on the here and now. They survived a war. She deserves to just enjoy her life. And maybe for right now, that means doing something reckless, something she’d never have done even a few days ago.

Something like fucking Draco Malfoy in the Black Lake.

Threading her fingers through his silken hair, Hermione leans in and captures his lips once more. Every tangle of their tongues and every nip of his teeth against her bottom lip shoots straight to her core.

His palms grip her arse and hoist her up higher. She deepens the kiss, moaning into his mouth as he reaches down between them. Every nerve in her body is alight with anticipation as Draco aligns his cock with her entrance.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice gritty with lust as he holds her hovering just above his length.

She nods emphatically, muttering consent against his lips in between hungry kisses.

She gasps as he guides her onto him, the head of his cock pushing inside. She tugs on his hair, elbows digging into his shoulders as he fills her. She holds him there, with legs wrapped around his waist. She revels in the stretch of him, the fullness, the reality that this is happening and it’s not a dare.

“Is this real?” she asks him, her quiet fear slipping out into the night. Pansy Parkinson’s voice still rings out in her head, a cruel carrot dangling in the back of her mind, the threat that this is all part of the game.

Draco’s hand comes up to cup her cheek, eyes wide, and in those silver depths Hermione finds lust and promise and maybe even a little fear of his own.

He swallows thickly, his adam’s apple bobbing. “Everything between us has been real, Granger. At least it has for me.”

She kisses him then like she needs his lips to breathe. His arms hold her to him tightly, their bodies flush until she can hardly determine where she ends and he begins.

He pulls back, dragging his length from her channel slowly before pushing in again. The pace is languid, torturous. Hermione needs more, craves the frenzied pace of reckless abandon.

“Fuck, you feel good,” Draco groans, looking down at the lake as if he can see anything through the dark water. “I want to see you.”

“I’m right here, Draco.”

“All of you.” He nips at her bottom lip, soothes the bite with his tongue. “I want more than a quick fuck in the lake, Hermione.”

Her body reacts to hearing him say her name, her walls bearing down on him. He grips her tightly at the feeling, a moan falling from his lips.

“Little late for that,” she tells him in a whisper full of laughter.

He snaps his hips roughly to orchestrate the point. “I’m serious, Granger.” He leans in, lips meeting her jaw, dragging down her neck and back up to her ear. “I want to take you on dates,” he tells her with a slow drag of his hips. “I want to kiss you in between classes,” another thrust with this statement has her moaning mindlessly. “I want to fuck you in my bed,” a snap of his hips, “in the prefect bathroom,” a drive of his cock, “in the room of requirement,” a frenzied thrust, “and if you’ll let me,” he breathes heavily into her ear, “I’ll take you against the shelves in the library.”

Hermione cries out, her nails digging into his back, her eyes pinched closed.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t fantasised about it at all.” He presses wet kisses against her neck as his hips drive her wild under the water. “I’ve imagined you hundreds of ways, fucking into my hand every godsdamn night. Thinking of you bent over a desk, bouncing on my cock, taking you in hidden alcoves, warming my cock as we study. I want you sprawled out on green sheets as much as I want to hold your fucking hand.”

He kisses her, silencing her moans, cutting off the fantasies that now run wild in her mind. She can see it, letting him claim her, walking from class to class together; the way people would stare at them as they already had at the party tonight.

She envisions laughing with him—laughing with Draco Malfoy!?—the thought, once foreign, is now clear as Veritaserum in her mind.

She thinks she could want that, that she could open her heart up to him. The thought is equally as exciting as it is terrifying. She just hopes that if she succumbs to the freefall, he keeps to his word and he’s there to catch her.

“Hermione.” She’d been lost in thought and Draco pulls her back. “Be here with me. Be in the now.” Her own words, her own thoughts echoed back to her.

Be in the now.

She kisses him once more, the feel of his lips on hers makes everything seem right. This is real. This is happening. Their bodies create waves in the water around them the harder he fucks into her.

“Fuck, Draco,” she cries out, digging her teeth into her bottom lip. She doesn’t—she can’t—she needs—

His lips find her ear and she can hear the laughter in his tone as he says, “I dare you to come on my cock.”

Panting breaths turn into a breathless chortle of laughter, and then—“Oh.” He angles their bodies so with every drive of his cock into her he rubs against her clit. Her breasts are exposed, nipples hard from their air and icy water and him. “Yes,” she hisses, her head falling back. She grips hard onto his forearms as he drives into her over and over again. “I’m close,” she moans.

She focuses on the feeling on her clit, the tingling spreading through her, the deep, hard drive of his length.

Her breath hitches—and she falls. She screams out his name, the crest of her orgasm crashing like the waves all around her.

“Fuck fuck fuck.” His hips stutter and stop as a deep, sexy moan leaves Draco’s lips. His cock twitches inside of her, and Hermione moans knowing he’s filling her up, the thought alone creating another aftershock of her orgasm.

Almost immediately, as the adrenaline wears off, her teeth start chattering, neither one of them having thought to cast a warming charm in the moment.

Pulling Hermione against him once more, Draco plants a soft, lingering kiss against her lips. “Let’s get you dry,” he tells her.

“Then we can start on your list.”

“My list?” He helps her to the dock, lifting her out of the water until she’s sitting on the edge, her legs dangling around where he stands between them.

“You know. Your bed, over a desk, in the library…”

He smirks, his brow cocked. “Already thinking of round two then?” He sounds so smug she almost wants to take him down a peg.

She moves out of his way so he can climb out of the lake. “Well, I’m surprised you could even fuck me with how cold that water was.”

Palms planted on the dock, he pushes out of the water and joins her on the ledge. “Granger, the giant squid could have tried to attack me and it wouldn’t have stopped me from being able to fuck you just now.”

She flushes, looking down to hide her grin. 

Painfully aware that she’s naked with the cold air blowing over her, she reaches for her wand and casts a drying and warming charm over them both.

“Thanks,” Draco says with a grin. He seems completely unbothered by his nakedness as Hermione gets up to get redressed.

In the pile of her things, she half expects to see writing on her dare card, yelling at them to come back to the room or eliminating them both, but her card is blank.

She spots Draco’s own dare card where it must have fallen out of his trousers when he got undressed. “You dropped—” She glances at it, noticing it has writing on it. “Looks like you got your dare here since they couldn’t reach you,” she says with a smirk of her own.

She turns the card to read it when Draco yells, “Hermione, don’t—”

Her brows furrow as she reads and rereads the dare on his card.

“Draco, what the fuck is this?” She spins the parchment around to face him, showing him where it reads, ‘Tell Hermione the truth.’

Notes:

thanks to ann for not only being my beta but also forcing me to keep this sex scene in ;)

Chapter 13

Oh, Circe. This can’t be real. This can’t be happening.

Is it true, then? Has this been a long ploy, part of the game all along? She knew it, deep in her bones she knew there was no way Draco Malfoy would like her. The one time she doesn’t allow Pansy sodding Parkinson get into her head. How could she be so stupid? And after they—

Oh my gods.

She shoves the dare into his chest as his eyes go wide with clear betrayal. Caught. Hastily, she spins, wishing to cover herself as quickly as possible. She tugs on her dress, grabs her shoes and beside her wand lying there on the deck, she finds it.

The camera.

Merlin, no. Please, please tell me it wasn’t on this whole time.

“Was that your dare, then? To fuck me and record it?” She chokes on a sob, horrified as the words spill out of her mouth. “S’pose you don’t need to tell everyone then. They already saw it.”

“No, that’s not what happened,” he insists.

She feels sick. Bile climbs up her throat, the drink Seamus made her threatening to make a reappearance. If only the name of the drink was prophetic and she could forget about everything—this moment, the last thirty minutes, this entire fucking weekend.

“Hermione, you have to let me explain.” He’s pulling on his trousers, looking as though he’s racing through the motions to catch up with her.

She scoffs in response. “Why? So you can win the game?”

“I don’t give a fuck about this game! I never have!”

His outburst makes her freeze. They’re steps away from each other but they may as well be miles apart.

“Then what has this been, Malfoy?” Her tone is cold and controlled. “What is this truth you have to tell me?” She doesn’t give him the space to answer. “Did you just record us—”

“No! Of course not. That was real. I wouldn’t do that to you.” His eyes are clear as he stares back at her and mere minutes ago she would have believed him, but now…

She barks out a laugh. “Well that doesn’t give me much relief considering all the things you have done to me over the years.”

He steps toward her, stumbles, really. Begging. “I didn’t record us and I wasn’t dared to kiss you or fuck you or take you on a date. I wasn’t even supposed to play Nerve.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Despite the fact that she’s dry from their stint in the lake, the air blowing off the water is cold and she’s in her short, flimsy dress. She crosses her arms over her chest, her heels dangling in her hand.

“Do you want to go inside—”

“No, I want the bloody truth, Malfoy,” she snaps and casts another warming charm over herself.

He nods and licks his lips. His face cracks with pain, as if he has any right to feel upset by what just happened. “I’m the reason you were dared to kiss me. I’m the reason we had to pair up for the game. I’m the reason for all of it.”

Her mouth falls open, brows wrinkling with confusion. Hermione thinks back to the Great Hall with Lavender, back when she was explaining the rules of the game. ‘People pay you to complete dares… The highest payer for that round gets to choose your dare.’

Her eyes snap up. “You paid for my dares.”

Draco runs a hand through his hair and blows out a heavy breath. “It’s more than that—”

“How did you know I’d sign up?”

He shakes his head. “I didn’t. I wasn’t even meant to play. I just saw an opportunity and seized it.”

She scoffs, unbelieving. “So, you spent money to get me to spend time with you…why? To embarrass me?”

“No! Fuck. because I wanted to spend time with you. I wanted to see if you’d give me a real chance.” He reaches for her, but thinks better of it, his hands dropping to his sides.

“Nothing about this has been real!”

He flinches like she’d slapped him. “To me it has. I told you—”

“How the hell am I supposed to believe that you just woke up one day, after years of hating me and bullying me and my friends, that suddenly you, what, have a crush on me?” A hysterical laugh spills from her lips.

He throws his arms wide, exasperated by her at last. “Like you didn’t just fuck me because you walked in on Brown and Blaise.”

Hermione rears back with wide eyes. “I—I didn’t—”

He rubs a hand over his jaw, looking at her through stormy eyes. “I get it now, Granger. Nothing I say will make you believe me.” Bending to grab his things, he pockets his socks, shoving his bare feet into his shoes and tugging his shirt back on, leaving it hanging open as he heads back toward the castle.

Hermione’s throat feels thick with an emotion she can’t quite place. She’s angry and even a little betrayed and if she admits it to herself…she’s hurt too. She stupidly thought… She actually believed him. “So, that’s it?” She sniffles, fighting a wave of emotion. “That’s the truth, then?”

“Yeah. That’s the truth.”

Hermione nods as tears threaten to spill. She kicks her dare card and the camera to the side, leaving them on the dock. “Then congrats, Malfoy. I guess you just won the game after all. Keep your bloody galleons. I quit.”

She pushes past Draco, her shoulder connecting with his arm as she blows past him and runs up the hill. 

Her breaths come out in pants by the time she steps through the castle doors. She has no idea if Malfoy ran after her but if he did, she has no interest in speaking to him. Instead, she climbs the stairs two at a time, heading for the one place he can’t get to her.

Whispering the password to the Fat Lady, she crawls through the portrait hole to the Gryffindor common room. Luckily, it’s empty but for a few fourth and fifth years, everyone else surely still partying in the Room of Requirement.

Running up the stairs, she pushes open her dorm room door and thank Merlin the room is empty. No sign of Lavender or Parvati.

But her steps stutter as she turns toward her bed, noticing her curtains drawn when she distinctly remembers tying them open before she left for the day.

Curious if this is a part of the game or a cruel prank courtesy of Lavender, Hermione tiptoes toward her bed with her wand drawn. She places her heels down gently, not wanting to disturb or set off whatever is waiting for her behind the curtains.

Tiptoeing to the bed, Hermione uses her free hand to carefully grab one of the curtains and yanks it back, aiming her wand at—“Ginny?”

The curtains opening break the silencing spell the younger witch must have cast, the room now filled with sniffles and broken sobs. Hermione lowers her wand and sits on the edge of her mattress beside her friend.

“Oh, Ginny.” Hermione rubs a hand over her back, consoling her as much as she can.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know where else to go.” The redhead sits up and Hermione notices the tear stains marking her pillow.

“What happened?”

Ginny levels her with an incredulous glare.

“Okay, I know what happened. But…did you…and Harry break up? Have you talked to him? Or Theo?” The younger girl shakes her head, her eyes pinched closed as her body wracks with sobs. “Oh, Gin. How did this all happen?”

She shrugs and wipes furiously at her cheeks. “It’s been going on since we got back from break.”

“Since Easter break?”

Ginny bites her lip. “Christmas.”

Hermione’s jaw falls open. A lot of the returning seventh and eighth years ended up staying at Hogwarts over Christmas hols. Hermione didn’t really have a home to go back to whereas most of the Slytherins stayed back since most of their parents, if not dead, are in Azkaban.

But Ginny was so excited to go home. She invited Hermione along, but it felt too weird being around everyone after she and Ron broke up.

When Ginny came back early, Hermione wondered if it had anything to do with Harry, but she didn’t pry. The younger witch simply claimed being at home without Fred was too depressing for everyone, and Molly wasn’t exactly up to celebrating.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because of the way you’re looking at me right now!” she cries. “Because of the history with Harry.”

“Yours or mine?”

“Both.” Ginny sighs. “He’s been…I mean you know how he’s been since we got back here. Since the war, really.”

Harry’s been struggling with guilt, a lot of survivor’s guilt, really. He started drinking immediately after the war, feeling nearly no pride or joy in their success. How could he be happy and celebrate the losses of Sirius and Fred and Dumbledore and every other person sacrificed to the war?

He claimed Hermione didn’t understand, that she didn’t directly lose anyone. That even though her parents don’t remember her and never will, “at least they’re alive, Hermione!”

He pushed everyone away except for Ron. At least Ron understands. Ron lost a brother.

Hermione knew Harry was giving Ginny a similar treatment, despite Ginny also having lost a brother. But then there was the excuse that she wasn’t there with them. She could never fully understand.

It’s like he’s hellbent on being alone.

“I’m so sorry, Ginny.”

“No. No, I don’t deserve your pity.” She shakes her head as fresh tears begin to fall. “I should’ve been there for him. I should have tried harder.”

“You did try. He’s just not ready to hear it.” She lays a hand on Ginny’s knee.

“It doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t have…”

“Ginny, what happened? How did you and Theo…?”

She lets out a heavy sigh, finally sitting up against Hermione’s pillows with her legs crossed underneath her. “The first time with Theo was…”

At her hesitation, Hermione offers, “A mistake?”

Ginny smiles at her softly despite her watery eyes and red-tipped nose. “No. An…accident, maybe? But not a mistake.” She takes a deep breath and toys with the red duvet. “It was Christmas Eve. Do you remember, I was really upset and I went for a walk?”

Hermione nods. She tried to follow her and console her, but Ginny insisted she wanted to be left alone.

When she starts talking again, there’s a small smile on her face. “Every Christmas Eve, Fred and George used to replace all of Mum’s presents under the tree with prank gifts from their shop. They’d wait until she went to bed and then swap everything out.” She’s looking far over Hermione’s shoulder, clearly lost in a memory. “I think Mum secretly enjoyed it.” Her brown eyes turn glassy and she looks down. “I just…I remembered it was Christmas Eve and Fred wasn’t here…”

Hermione’s own eyes start to burn as she watches a tear fall from Ginny’s face to the mattress.

“So, I went for a walk. I just needed to get out, get away, clear my head. It was windy and cold and I just wanted to feel numb. I was sick of feeling…everything.” She pauses, either lost in the memory or trying to find the words. “I went to the Astronomy tower. I knew it would be cold and empty and I could be alone with my thoughts… Except Theo was there.”

Hermione doesn’t say anything despite the thousands of questions itching to burst out of her.

“Merlin I…” Her red brows furrow. “I think I was angry. Angry that he was in “my spot” as if I had any claim to it. But this imaginary claim I made in my mind, this perfect place to go and sit and stare at the sky and feel…nothing was suddenly tainted, and I lashed out.”

Hermione’s brows shoot to her forehead. “How’d he take that?”

“The thing is, I think he was there for the same reason I was.” Ginny almost smirks. “Well, not exactly the same. He was drunk and dishevelled. Apparently the Slytherins had a party that night.”

Hermione isn’t the least bit surprised about that.

“And his shirt was half untucked and half unbuttoned and he had a joint dangling between his lips and his wand twirling in his fingers. He was leaning against one of the towers, so casually…”

Hermione doesn’t point out that Ginny clearly committed every minute of this interaction to memory.

“He pulled the joint from between his lips and offered it to me. Said I looked like I needed it more than he did.” She shrugs. “So I took it from him and I got high and he didn’t ask me about my dead brother or my arsehole brother or preen over Harry Potter. He didn’t say anything.”

Hermione nearly snorts. “I almost find that hard to believe.”

“He’s really not who you think he is,” Ginny says softly, almost sadly. Hermione wonders if she’s talking to her or to herself. “He’s actually really kind and funny and thoughtful. Vulnerable, if you get to know him.”

“And you know him?” The only Theodore Nott Hermione has ever encountered is loud and brash and offensive, uncaring of other people’s feelings entirely.

“I’m starting to.”

“And what about Harry? Are you two—have you talked to him?”

Ginny shakes her head. “It’s been over since long before anything happened with Theo, Hermione.” She sighs and runs her hands through her red hair, looking lighter already now that the weight of her secret is off her shoulders.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

Hermione pulls her into a hug. “You can always come to me. I’m not going anywhere, Gin.”

The younger witch pulls back. “Same goes for you. So, tell me.” She sits up straighter and gives Hermione a pointed look. “What happened with the game? Who won? Why aren’t you off snogging Malfoy?”

Hermione groans. “I don’t—”

“No, I told you about Theo. Now spill.”

“There is no me and Malfoy.”

Ginny blinks, her mouth open like she doesn’t know what to say to that. “What happened? You two were downright nauseating only a few hours ago.”

Now Hermione feels the urge to collapse onto her mattress. “You were right. Everyone was right. He was only using me.” She shakes her head and looks away from her friend. “He bought all my dares. He’s the reason I even had to spend this weekend with him. He—” Hermione gasps. “Oh my gods. He dared me to kiss him? That feels…that’s wrong, isn’t it?” She shakes her head, continuing to ramble. “I guess unlike Theo there’s nothing under Malfoy’s surface. What you see is what you get.”

Ginny snorts.

“What?” Hermione narrows her eyes as Ginny gets an all too familiar look on her face.

“Malfoy didn’t dare you to kiss him.”

“He told me—”

“Theo sent you that dare. Though, it does explain why your dares were to go shopping and Theo’s were to dangle from the Astronomy Tower,” she says with an accompanying eye roll.

“He—what?” Hermione considers; Ginny isn’t wrong. She’d thought over and over again how her dares were much easier compared to Theo’s or even Lavender’s.

Ginny nods. “He was taking the piss.” At Hermione’s expression, the younger witch continues. “Theo…told me some things.”

“What is with everyone beating around the damn bush?” she mutters. “Spit it out, Gin!”

“I guess Malfoy’s been harbouring a crush on you for a while, that’s all I know.”

“No.” Hermione shakes her head. “No, that doesn’t make any sense. He hated me.”

“Love and hate—”

“Ginny.” Hermione snaps.

“No, I know. I don’t condone Malfoy’s actions, but you have to admit he was effective in getting your attention.”

“By bullying me!”

“I’m just telling you what I know.”

“What else do you know?”

Ginny sighs. “Malfoy knows about me and Theo.”

“He what!?”

“He caught me leaving their dorm room. He wasn’t supposed to be there. Malfoy and Zabini were out at a pub but Malfoy came back early, I guess.”

“And he didn’t tell anyone?” Hermione quirks a brow. “And you didn’t hex him then and there?”

Ginny snorts. “I thought about it,” she smirks. “This was…after Theo told me about Malfoy’s affections for you. I may have simply…threatened him a little and asked him not to tell.”

“And if he didn’t you’d, what put in a good word for him?”

Ginny shakes her head. “No. I didn’t promise him anything. I just asked him not to tell.”

“Surely there was an implication—”

“Hermione,” Ginny snaps. “I think maybe he’s a little more like Theo than you thought. The Theo that I know.”

Hermione’s brows arch toward her hairline. “You’re really defending Malfoy? You? Ginevra Weasley?”

“I just…” Her expression pinches as she chooses her words carefully. “I think we deserve to be happy, ‘Mione. This entire year I feel like I’ve been walking on an emotional tightrope. Harry’s more distant now than he was when the three of you were living in a goddamn tent! We won the war. We should be happy, but I’m exhausted. I’m so fucking tired and from what I’ve seen this weekend alone, you’ve had more fun with Malfoy in two days than you’ve had all year. No matter what feelings you do or don’t have for him, I think that means something, and I think maybe it’s worth exploring.”

Hermione allows the words to settle over her, letting them seep into her bones and considering them carefully.

She realises Ginny has a point. She does want to be happy. Losing her friendships with Harry and Ron felt like a splinching, a complete separation of her body.

As crazy as it is, in a span of two short days, Draco has been able to get under her skin and make her have fun. He’s made her laugh, something so simple yet she doesn’t feel like she’s really laughed in months.

And the dares…is it really so bad? If all he did was buy her company? If, like he said, he was merely hoping for a fair chance?

He could have given her dares like Theo got, but he took her shopping, helped her step out of her comfort zone, and outside of that, took her on a date. Intentionally making sure the date wasn’t a dare, that it was real.

Over and over he tried to tell her, to convince her, but her fears ultimately got the better of her.

And Merlin, she’d already slept with him.

Did she make a mistake?

“Gin, you, um, didn’t happen to catch my last dare, did you?”

“No, why?”

Hermione needs to make sure it wasn’t all a ploy, that Draco didn’t film them having sex in the Black Lake for their entire class to see. “I just…I heard you, Gin. I did. I have something I need to do now.” She hops off her bed and holds out a hand to the younger witch. “And you need to go have a conversation.”

“With who?” she grumbles.

“With both of them. You need to be honest with Harry, and then you need to tell Theo that you’re in love with him.”

“I’m not—”

Hermione’s don’t bullshit me expression cuts her clean off. “Apparently you need to be honest with yourself then, too.”

Digging through her things, Hermione grabs a pair of muggle denims and a simple black jumper, changing out of her dress and slipping into a pair of trainers. With Ginny morosely on her heels, they leave the Gryffindor common room.

Jogging down the first set of steps, they reach the second floor landing when Hermione stops in her tracks at the wizard standing in front of her.

She breathes out the name on a gasp. “Blaise.”

Notes:

sorry for another (small?) cliffhanger

Chapter 14

“Sorry, we were just—” Hermione tries to walk past him. “I didn’t see Lavender up there.” The words are forced, harsh but coated with sugar that probably doesn’t fool anybody.

“I’m not looking for Lavender.” He scratches the back of his head as he looks down at Hermione. “I was looking for you, actually.”

“Do you want me to…” Ginny’s eyes dart between Hermione and the Slytherin, the question clear on her face.

Momentarily rendered speechless, Hermione shakes her head. She clears her throat before saying, “No. You go. I’ll be fine.”

Once Ginny descends the stairs, the echoes of her footsteps vanishing, Hermione turns back to Blaise.

Hands in his pockets, he rocks on his feet, his discomfort evident. “Can we talk?”

What on Merlin’s green Earth does he want to talk about? “Sure.” 

She leads him down the second floor corridor, slipping into the first room she sees to give them a semblance of privacy for whatever this conversation will entail. As she closes the door behind him, she realises she’d led him into the potions storeroom. Crossing her arms over her chest, she snaps, “What?”

“I want to apologise.”

“You have nothing to apologise for. Is that all?” She moves like she’s going to slip behind him and out of the tight room, but he stops her.

“We were something like friends this year, weren’t we?”

Hermione sighs. She really doesn’t want to do this now. Or ever. They’re going to be leaving Hogwarts soon enough and she can put her embarrassment behind her. “We were potions partners.” She nods, if only to convince herself. “That’s all.”

“Fuck, Hermione. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

She pushes her hair behind her ear restlessly. “You didn’t hurt me. You don’t even need to apologise. You were under no obligation to reciprocate my feelings.”

“I know, but everything that happened after Lavender approached me in the Great Hall—”

Was anything Lavender told her even true? Did Blaise actually hit on her, or was she just spinning a tale to get under Hermione’s skin?

Hermione thought she knew what she saw that day…but maybe lost in the fog of hurt she read more into the situation than she should’ve.

“I have a feeling that has a lot more to do with her than it does with you.” The thoughts of her…friend? Roommate still ache like a bruise being poked.

“Hermione—”

“Merlin. Fine. Yes, I had a crush on you. Yes, it sucked to be publicly humiliated in the Great Hall Friday morning, but even that wasn’t your fault. I asked Lavender not to say anything to you and neither one of us can help our feelings, right? I’ve…I’m… past that. It’s fine. You can go be with Lavender if you want or anyone else. This is not necessary.”

She spins around, perusing the potions vials in hopes that Blaise will slip out of the room quietly and they can forget this conversation ever even happened.

Instead, Blaise says, “That’s not all we need to talk about, though.”

A low groan slips from her lips as she rests her head on one of the dusty shelves before straightening out her shoulders and facing the determined Slytherin.

“If this is about Draco—” She shakes her head. She doesn’t even know how to end her own sentence. Don’t bother? I don’t need your warning? Tell him to fuck off? Tell him to come find me?

“It is. You should know he bought your dares. He… he’ll kill me for telling you this, but no one was forcing you two to play the game together. It was just him.”

She pushes her curls out of her face with a sigh. “Yeah. I know. He told me everything.”

“Everything?” Blaise’s eyebrows shoot to his forehead with shock. “I feel like I should apologise again, then. None of this would have happened if I didn’t bring the game to Hogwarts.”

Hermione’s head snaps up, eyes searching Blaise’s. “You brought the game to Hogwarts?”

His brown eyes widen as realisation dawns.

“I thought it was just that Draco was buying my dares… was he in on the whole game?” Her mind reels, going over his confession and their conversations. “He said he wasn’t supposed to play the game, and you told Lavender you didn’t sign up either. Is that why?”

“Fuck,” Blaise mutters under his breath. He runs a hand over his cropped black hair. “Theo—”

“Theo was in on it too!?” She wonders if Ginny knows.

“Theo wanted to play. He heard about it from my brother—”

“You have a brother!?”

Blaise gives her a look of mild irritation at yet another interruption. “Step-brother from one of my mum’s many marriages,” he waves his hand. “We keep in touch. About a year ago, he told me about this game that he heard about. He wanted to take it to Durmstrang.”

“So you, Theo, and Draco got the game from him and brought it to Hogwarts.”

“Thought this place could use a bit of fun.” Using one finger, he swipes a bit of dust off one of the nearby shelves. “It’s our last year, we just survived a war… Once Theo gets an idea in his head, there’s no way out of it.”

“So, the money was fake, then? You three just wanted to… what, get richer by having the students pay you? And then you’d keep and pocket the money, is that right?”

Blaise’s brows furrow. “What? Of course not. The money for the dares was a pledge. People only had to actually pay if their player won. The winner can do whatever they want with the money, but they earned it. We merely handled the pledges and doled out the dares.”

“Well, then Draco pledged a lot of money for no reason—”

The Slytherin shakes his head as frustration begins to seep into his tone. “He pledged the money to spend time with you. For him, that was the reason.”

Hermione starts toying with the potions bottles, picking them up, inspecting them, before putting them back on the shelf. Her hands shake, and she’s careful not to knock anything over as she asks, “So, what, you’re going to tell me how he’s had some years-long fantastical crush on me?”

“He has.”

She huffs, spinning around. “Then why—”

“Salazar, Granger, for someone so bright…” He rubs at his forehead, eyes falling closed. “He knew what you’d say, how you’d react. Just like this!” He motions toward her. “He never bloody shut up about you. Even when he was younger and acting like a prat, making fun of your hair or whatever, we knew what it was. It was just an excuse to talk about you.”

“And that’s supposed to be a charming story?”

“No,” Blaise admits. “Draco’s an idiot.” Hermione nearly snorts. “He was an arse then he became a Death Eater who thought he was going to die before thinking he was going to prison. He knew the shit people would say if you two got together—”

“And what? I’d have no say in the matter? You all seem awfully sure I would’ve jumped at the opportunity to be with Malfoy despite all the years of vitriol. Weren’t my feelings ever considered?”

His expression flattens. “Don’t be obtuse, Granger. No one thought you’d ever give him a shot. Why the hell do you think he never said anything?”

She looks away, toying with the sleeve of her jumper. Clearly, she’s proven she has no idea what goes on in Malfoy’s head.

“Once you signed up for Nerve, he saw the game as an opportunity. Not just to spend time with you, but for you to see how people would react. To see how you would react.”

If the reaction was bad, he had a scapegoat in the game.

“No one cares that I was paired up with Malfoy,” she says. Then she realises. No one cares. No one spread nasty rumours. People didn’t threaten Draco to stay away from her and no one called her a Death Eater whore. If anything, her friends just wanted to understand what she saw in Malfoy and people like Seamus preferred to crack jokes at her expense.

And the two people who probably would have judged her most harshly she’s not even friends with anymore. 

Wasn’t she the one trying to convince Ginny that Malfoy wasn’t all bad mere hours ago?

‘He was surprising…he was nothing like I expected.’

Maybe her temper did get the best of her once again. She’s always been logical, taking time to think things through, yet she assumed the worst. She didn’t want to take Draco seriously, didn’t want to fall for him only for him to rip the rug out from under her.

So she ripped it out first.

“For what it’s worth, Hermione, Draco’s my best friend, and he’s grown up a lot over the years. If we were something akin to friends this year, I would advise my friend to give the guy a chance. I don’t think you’d regret it.”

“I’ll think about it,” she promises.

He raps his knuckles on the closest shelf. “The other reason I was coming to find you—”

“Merlin, there’s more?”

He chuckles. “We need to get back to the Room of Requirement. The game’s over.”

Right. The mature thing to do would be to follow Blaise back to the Room of Requirement to congratulate Draco on his win.

As long as he didn’t use her and record…

But would he really do that?

Gods, she’s so confused. She can’t separate the Draco she grew to know from the Malfoy she knew as a kid.

Can’t she, though? She never would have had sex with Malfoy a year ago…

Circe, and now she’s arguing with her own conscience.

With her mind spinning, she follows Blaise out of the potions’ storeroom and they walk side by side up to the seventh floor corridor. Every so often she can feel him looking at her, his gaze burning into the side of her face, but she ignores him.

Blaise paces in front of the wall three times until the door appears. He pulls it open for her and when Hermione steps inside, it’s similar to her earlier arrival. The crowd parts and cheers for her.

Her brows furrow as she looks around at all of her classmates. While most of them are drunk and they try to clap her on the back, a few of them call out words of ‘Congratulations, Hermione!’

She looks around, finding faces she recognises amongst the masses. Seamus lifts a glass to her, Neville gives her a big thumbs up, and Pansy Parkinson smirks in her direction when she catches her eye.

“Congratulations, Hermione,” Luna says.

“Why is everyone congratulating me?” Hermione asks.

Smiling, Luna says, “Because you won.” As if on cue, the back screen lights up with the words Nerve Winner: Hermione Granger.

“That—that doesn’t make any sense. I quit.” Looking around the room, predictably she doesn’t find Ginny or Theo, and it seems she lost Blaise once she stepped into the room. She thinks if she’d won Blaise would have told her in the storeroom. It must be some kind of mistake. “Excuse me,” she says to Luna.

Pushing through the crowd, she tries to find Blaise again, but with the lights and crowd of people, she can hardly find anyone.

As she moves toward the screen in the back, her dares start to play, replacing the words on the screen.

She cringes as she watches herself enter the Potions classroom, knowing what’s coming next. She can see the panic on her face, the way she warred with herself, the way she had to talk herself into kissing Malfoy, especially after they were bickering.

What she doesn’t expect is the way his body immediately reacted when she went for it. His face relaxed and he reached for her. Almost…almost eagerly. Like he couldn’t stop himself even if he wanted to.

And when she pulled away, there was a flicker of disappointment on his face that she’d missed the first time.

By the time the Hermione on screen looks back at Draco, his eyes are dark and his jaw is clenched hard. At the time, she thought it was because she just kissed him.

Now she realises, the look of anger that took over his face happened after Hermione snuck a look at Blaise.

The screen morphs, moving from the Potions classroom to the two of them walking through Knockturn Alley. Over the noise of the party, Hermione can’t hear what they were talking about as Draco leads her to her next dare.

It switches again, and she’s in the tattoo parlour, and she’s half naked and the look on Draco’s face is telling. She never noticed it, but the snitch camera caught everything. Every last sneaking look. Every burning, lingering gaze. The trail of his eyes over her bare skin.

Then he’s tattooing her, touching her carefully, eyes etched into her skin. Hermione’s breath hitches, almost as if she can feel the ghost of the memory now; his hand on her body, the tattoo he so carefully chose…

The fingers on her left hand reach to her ribs, finding her fresh ink and dancing over the flowers.

“Don’t tell Lavender I said this, but that moment was insanely hot.”

Hermione looks over to find Parvati standing beside her, her brows raised as she watches Draco delicately tattoo Hermione on the screen.

“Where is Lavender?”

Parvati rolls her eyes. “She ran off after her dare. She’s probably lighting your underwear on fire in your room.”

Great, Hermione thinks.

“Did you know?”

She looks up at her roommate. “Know what?”

Parvati motions to the screen. “That Malfoy was into you when you teamed up for the game.”

“He’s not—” She stops herself, the knee-jerk denial catching in her throat. Her cheeks burn and she shakes her head, her thoughts all mixed up.

Between Blaise telling her everything about Draco’s feelings, Ginny saying Theo even knew about the crush, Draco himself admitting to it, and now Parvati mentioning it…

When will Hermione start to believe it?

Parvati snorts. “Hermione, be serious. It’s obvious.” She shrugs. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he orchestrated the entire thing himself.”

You’re not far off, she thinks.

The screen morphs again, moving to the next moment she and Draco shared together. The strip club.

Parvati whistles and all of the drunken classmates still partying it up in the Room of Requirement begin to cheer. “Oh, I am making myself comfortable for this one. Congratulations on the win, Hermione. I won’t lie, I really didn’t think you had it in you.”

She’s left alone once more and can’t help but watch Draco’s dare unfold on screen. Despite the strip club being full at the time, from her perspective it’s as if she and Draco were the only two people in the room.

Their eyes are locked and Hermione can feel the tension through the screen. She’s eye-fucking the hell out of him. Is that really how I looked at him!? She blatantly checks out his body, her eyes moving in a way her hands yearned to.

And Draco is no better. His eyes are dark with want, his gaze consistently flitting to her mouth. Merlin, he wanted to kiss me.

If she would have admitted it to herself, she wanted to kiss him then too.

She feels a presence beside her, but even now, she can’t pull her eyes away from the screen. Away from Draco.

“See what I mean?” The rich voice appears over her shoulder, moving to the left of her.

She sighs and glances over at Blaise. His brows are raised, a knowing grin tugging at his lips.

She couldn’t see what was right in front of her. It still doesn’t make sense, how Draco Malfoy could like her, but looking on from an outside perspective, it does seem pretty obvious.

“You should talk to him.” Blaise nudges her with his elbow.

“He’s not here.” She’d looked. She hadn’t realised until this moment that’s who she was looking for, but she didn’t see him.

She’s not sure she’s even ready to face him, not with the proof staring her in the face. She needs to think. She already slept with him, but was that in the heat of the moment, the excitement over the game?

Merlin, who is she kidding? She’s still Hermione Granger. She can blame the game all she wants, but the reality is she’s been keeping a pro/con list in her head the entire weekend. She’s never made a rash decision, no matter how many times she tries to convince herself that’s what she was doing.

She slept with Draco because she wanted to. Because she… She…Fuck. Because he got under her skin. Because he made her forget, made her feel worthy and wanted. She didn’t want to believe it because he’s Draco Malfoy, but watching it unfold the same way everyone else did over the course of the game? She can’t deny her own feelings either.

And she doesn’t think she wants to anymore.

She turns, facing Blaise head on. “How did Draco lose the game?”

“He didn’t complete his dare.”

“No, I get that but…what, or…why…”

“You’ll have to talk to Draco.”

Hermione groans, frustrated.

Blaise scratches the back of his neck. “Draco’s last dare was to tell you the truth. That’s the dare he got entering into the final four, before you all got to the party,” he says, motioning to the room around them. “But Draco didn’t record it. He didn’t submit it as a dare.” Reaching into his pocket, Blaise pulls out a snitch. “He gave me his camera before you finished Lavender’s dare. He quit, Hermione. He never planned to win.”

Her mind reels. Spinning on her heel, she runs toward the exit of the Room of Requirement once more.

“Hermione!” Blaise stops her as she yanks open the door. “Veritaserum.”

Her brows crinkle as she looks at him.

“Just remember that. Sounds like you’ll need it.”

They were just in the potions storeroom and now he tells her she’ll need Veritaserum?

Shaking her head, she ignores Blaise. She’s not going to use truth serum on Draco just to get his true feelings out of him.

She needs to stop wasting time. She needs to find Draco.

Chapter 15

After rushing out of the Room of Requirement, Hermione skids to a halt, quickly realising she has no idea where to go. She and Draco didn’t exactly part on the best of terms, and in part that’s her fault for not hearing him out, but he jumped to some awful conclusions as well.

There’s a part of her that wonders if this is the way it will always be, the two of them reverting back to their old ways, tossing daggers to see which one will draw the most blood.

She owes it to herself to find out.

She’s drawn to him for one reason or another, and maybe a part of her owes it to Draco also, at least the version of him she’s gotten to know this weekend. Her blooming feelings are real and scary and she’s going to spiral if she doesn’t talk to him.

Maybe they’ll hurt one another along the way, but she knows that right now, in this moment, not talking to him hurts too.

With renewed determination, Hermione takes a page out of her own book and assumes Draco would probably go to the one place she couldn’t get to him: the Slytherin dorms.

Running through the school, she wishes she were able to apparate inside the castle walls. She’s panting by the time she reaches the dungeons.

She stops and stands in front of the bare stone wall where she knows the Slytherin common room door is magically hidden. Shit. She was really hoping another student would be here to let her in. Taking a shot, she walks right up to the blank wall and raps her knuckles against the stone a few times.

Nothing happens. She knew that wouldn’t work, but she felt like she had to try something to try and get the door to appear.

Leave it to Slytherin house to not even have a visible door unless you know the password.

What the hell could the password be? She should’ve asked Blaise before she— 

Oh.

“Veritaserum.”

The wall transforms before her eyes, a black wooden door magically appearing, carved with etchings of a serpent.

Without another thought, without even stopping to consider knocking on the door this time, Hermione grabs the handle and pushes into the Slytherin common room.

She’s grateful that the party in the Room of Requirement was still going strong when she left. Most of her seventh- and eighth-year classmates are all still there getting drunk. But she didn’t take into consideration the younger students who would be milling about their own common room.

She smiles awkwardly as a group of fifth-years stare at her, none of them seemingly knowing what to say to her.

“I had the, ah, password,” she explains, hoping that knowledge will appease them into believing she’s supposed to be here. “Where are the seventh- and eighth-year dorms?”

One of the fifth-year boys rolls his eyes. “Up the stairs to the left. Draco’s room is the last door at the end of the hallway.” The group of them smirk at her.

Great, so they all know about her and Draco.

She forces a smile. “Thanks.” Hopefully this isn’t a prank.

Following the instructions, she runs up the stairs and heads down the hallway. There are several doors down the corridor, some open with younger students inside their dorms, others closed. The very last door is closed and her hand hovers over the knob for a moment, nerves causing her hesitation.

Taking a deep breath, she pushes open the door. Four of the beds are open and empty but the last one has the emerald and black curtains drawn.

“Draco?” Hermione whispers.

The curtains rustle and Hermione feels her heart thumping violently against her ribcage. She ran here without thinking what she was going to even say to him and now—

A curly head of dark hair pops out of the curtains.

“Theo?”

“Well, Granger, I knew one day I’d find you in my dorm room but unfortunately for you, I am not in the mood today.”

Hermione shakes her head. “I’m looking for Draco—are you okay?” she asks as Theo disappears back into his bed.

She walks over and pulls open the curtains, only to find Theo lying on his back, facing the ceiling.

“Theo?” He drops his head to the side to look at her. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Talking isn’t my thing.”’

She raises her brows. For all the years she’s known the Slytherin, the one thing she knows about him is he doesn’t seem to shut up.

“Are you sure about that?” she asks slowly.

He blows out a heavy breath. “You were there, Granger. You saw what happened.”

“Yes, and ironically I found you and Ginny in the same position, except she was hiding away in my bed.”

“Are you inviting me into your bed, Granger?”

“No!” Theo smirks at her, a semblance of life returning to his tired eyes. Hermione sighs. “Have you tried talking to Ginny?”

He flinches, like just hearing her name causes him pain. “She doesn’t want to talk to me. She ran away, probably to Potter.”

Hermione pokes his thigh. “You’re not listening. She ran to my room. I talked to her.”

“And?” He tries to sound bored, but Theo’s eyes betray him, looking up at Hermione with interest.

“And you should go talk to Ginny.” She grins. “Last I heard she was off to look for you.”

“Really?” He sits up, the melancholy washed off of him in the space of one blink to the next. “Well, why didn’t you lead with that?”

Hermione rolls her eyes. “Because I’m not here for you. I’m here for Draco.”

“He’s not here, Granger. Salazar. And you’re meant to be the brightest witch—”

She groans. “Do you know where he is?”

Theo sighs, looking exasperated. “I can’t possibly keep track of all my friends.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Now. Can you tell me where Ginevra got to?”

Hermione scoffs at the irony. “Try the Astronomy Tower. She had some good things to say about it.”

“I bet she did.” He smirks and wiggles his brows.

“Ew, do not make that face about my best friend. Go.” She shudders.

Theo leaves to find Ginny and Hermione is left alone in Draco’s dorm. Where the hell would he be?

As quickly as she can manage, Hermione slips out of the Slytherin dorms and out of the common room. She paces the dungeons, trying to think back over their conversations over the last two days.

Maybe Draco isn’t like Ginny. Maybe he doesn’t want to hide away from Hermione.

Maybe he wants to be found.

Spinning on her heel, she runs to the doors and bursts out of the castle. She runs over the Hogwarts grounds, back to where she left him at the Black Lake.

Running down the hill, she nearly trips and only barely catches herself as she pushes through the trees toward the dock. She thinks maybe he stayed here, waiting for her? Or maybe—

The dock is empty.

Shit.

Sitting down on the dock, she takes off her trainers and dips her feet into the icy water. She kicks her legs, thinking about how only an hour ago she was here with Draco.

She looks out on the Black Lake, the moonlight reflecting off the surface, the rippling waves lapping at the back of her calves.

She wanted him. In the heat of the moment, when the adrenaline was racing through her veins, she wasn’t thinking about anything else. Not about Lavender or Blaise. She was thinking about Draco.

How he’s been with her the entirety of the game. How he’s made her feel through all of it. Confused, yes. Also excited and nervous and wanted.

He tried to tell her the whole time, didn’t he? That he liked her. Between the dinner and his confession, the way he kissed her, the way he looked at her, Merlin…

He’d said some horrible things to her, yes, she won’t deny that. But she can’t deny her part in it either. She made awful accusations at him when… when he put himself out there these last two days for her.

To spend time with her.

And what did he get out of it? A clueless partner who no one would’ve bet on. No one but him.

He embarrassed himself for her. The stripping, the confessions, the fantasies he told her about. He joked that they were all about her but was it really a joke? The things he’d said in the library…

Wait. The library!

Pushing up off the dock, Hermione grabs her shoes, carrying them in her hand as she runs back up the hill to the school. She doesn’t stop to put her shoes back on as she tiptoes through the corridors toward the library.

After quickly peeking over each shoulder, she opens the door and slowly closes it behind her with a near-silent snick. At first glance, the library appears empty. She doesn’t spot any tall, blond, cocky Slytherins at any of the front tables, there’s no one pacing through the stacks or leaning against a wall.

But she has this feeling in her gut that he’s here.

Slinking along the wall, she moves toward the back of the library where the private tables are, the ones she usually studies at because they’re quieter and less packed.

Finding them empty, she slips between the stacks, peeking down every aisle and finding them empty.

Hermione moves through the empty areas, tiptoeing silently though the library, her shoes dangling from her fingers, until she comes to a set of locked double doors. She whispers “Alohomora,” and slips inside, closing them once more behind her with a, “Colloportus.”

Once in the private section, she slips toward the back of the room, back where another set of locked doors waits. Checking quickly on either side of her, she whispers the password to the restricted section. “Ludwigia inclinata.”

The doors unlock with a resounding click and she’s able to step inside. Not the first aisle. That’d be too obvious. She recalls his fantasy, how clearly he’d painted the picture in her mind.

She walks down the centre aisle, checking down each set of stacks. She finally finds him down the fifth aisle on the right-hand side.

He’s facing out toward the middle as if he was waiting for her. “I’m surprised you found me.”

She shrugs. “You told me exactly where to look.” Hermione looks down at her bare feet and drops her shoes to the ground before looking back up at Draco.

Fuck, he looks so handsome. His hair is in complete disarray like he’d been running his fingers through it all night. The dress shirt Hermione had picked out for him is untucked and half-unbuttoned, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

“Granger…”

She manages to pull her gaze from the exposed expanse of his chest to meet his eyes.

“You’re staring.”

She shifts on her feet, her teeth digging into her bottom lip.

In three strides he’s there, pressing you against the stacks. You jump, he catches you, hands under your arse, slipping under your uniform skirt. You’re drenched, he can slip right in. One finger, then two.

The fantasy replays in her mind, the echo of his words stirring up an aching need inside of her.

He looks at her like he’s desperate for her, his silver eyes tracking her every movement, her every breath. His eyes draw a map of her skin, from her wild hair to her bare toes. He waits, stoic but she knows better. When did that happen? He’s still, guarded. Waiting.

She takes a step toward him. “You’re not pacing.”

He cocks his head, eyes dragging over her once more. “Pacing?”

She nods. “Your—” She has to lick her lips to get the words out. “Your fantasy. That you’d be here waiting. Pacing.”

He tsks. “I was imagining you. Where you’d get eager with nerves, I’m capable of…waiting.”

“So you’re not eager then?”

“I didn’t say that.”

She takes another step, moving to stand directly across from him against the opposite towering bookshelf.

“What are you doing here, Granger?” His voice is deeper than it was a moment ago, as if he’s suddenly imagining his fantasy too.

“I—”

The truth is she came here to talk to him, but seeing him with a replay of his fantasy swirling in her mind, standing there looking like that… She suddenly has a very different idea about what she’s doing here.

“Did you mean it? When you told me it was…that it was me you were…fantasising about?” She’ll be surprised if Draco even heard her question over her thudding, racing heartbeat.

“Yes.” He says it so simply, so confidently.

Her eyes snap up from the floor to find him already watching her. Trapped in his stormy gaze, Hermione’s breathing turns rapid. Her back presses against the bookshelf behind her as her fingers toy with the hem of her jumper.

He was right; she is a ball of nervous energy.

Isn’t that what this entire weekend has been about? Doing things she wouldn’t normally do? Proving to herself that it’s not just about being brave to save her friends or survive in the middle of wars…but it’s about the small things too? Kissing someone just because you both want to, skinny dipping in a lake, getting a tattoo!

Not everything has to be life and death. Some of it can just be…fun.

She won Nerve. Regardless of her dares, her fate, though unbeknownst to her, was in Draco Malfoy’s hands this entire weekend, and he didn’t embarrass her. Shouldn’t that be proof enough?

He leans casually against the shelf across from her, one ankle crossed over the other, his hands in the pockets of his trousers. Patient.

She bites her lip as she studies him. “How did you word it? That I…I want someone who wants me so badly they can’t wait to touch me.”

He nods once, a mere dip of his chin. “But not around the books, right, Granger?”

Is that why he’s holding back? Because I said I wouldn’t defile the books? “What if I changed my mind?” The words are a whisper, but clear in the otherwise silent restricted section.

Draco’s eyes darken and anticipation floods Hermione’s veins like a drug. He pushes off the shelf, stalking across the short space separating them until he’s looming over her.

He boxes her in, one hand gripping the ledge beside her head, his other hand reaching for the hem of her jumper. “Have you?”

She leans her head back against the shelf, looking up at his hungry gaze.

“I have to hear you say it. I wouldn’t want to…defile any books without your permission.”

“I’d still prefer we didn’t defile any of the books in the process.”

“Granger,” he practically growls.

“I want you, Draco. Right here. Right now—”

Her words are cut off by his lips. He leans in, devouring her, kissing her senseless until her knees are weak and she has to hold onto him for support. Her hands curl into the sides of his shirt, fisting the fabric and pulling him into her.

His hand brushes against her thigh as he searches for the button on her denims. “This would be a lot easier if you hadn’t changed.” He tears at the button, the force of it lowering her zipper in the same motion. He shoves at her denims until they’re below her arse and fall to the floor.

Fingertips skate over her bare leg, higher and higher over the sensitive skin, moving to her inner thigh until they hit the lace separating him from her core.

Hermione widens her thighs, spreading her legs to give him room. Slipping downward, he brushes his fingers over the gusset of her panties.

“Mmm. Fuck, you’re soaked.” His fingers dip under her knickers to trail over the lips of her pussy.

Her breath hitches as he moves toward her entrance, and he moans at the feel of her, hot and slick and ready for him.

He pushes a finger inside and she bears down on him instantly. Her eyes fall closed at the intrusion, her head banging against the shelf. Her hands curl into tighter fists as he pumps his finger in and out of her before adding a second finger.

“Fuck, look at you. So wet and eager for me.” He pulls his fingers out and Hermione whines at the loss.

He grabs her knickers and works them down her thighs, collecting them when she kicks them off her feet.

Holding them up with his finger, his grey eyes spark as he dangles the green lace in front of her face. “Fuck. you wore them. I couldn’t tell back at the dock.”

“It was part of my dare. To wear whatever you bought me.”

“If I’d have known that…” He looks down at her, eyes blazing, pupils blown wide with lust. Pocketing her knickers, he crowds against her, reaching for her. His hands move under her thighs as he lifts her, her bare cheeks in his palms.

Hermione gasps and wraps her legs around his waist on instinct. Their lips are mere inches apart. His gaze clings to her mouth and Hermione takes the plunge, crashing her lips to his.

She kisses him fervently, tongue licking its way into his mouth, tangling with his as she tastes him. She moans, clawing at him, wanting more of him—so much more.

Draco presses her back against the shelves, the edges digging into her spine as he supports her weight. His arms shift, hands reaching between them; the clink of a belt buckle loud in the quiet library. His zipper follows and soon enough he’s there, hard between her thighs, pushing at her entrance.

“Draco,” she pants, the tip of him barely pressed inside of her.

His eyes snap up to meet hers, the cords of his neck tense, his jaw clenched.

“Do you remember what I said? About my fantasy?”

His eyes flare and his cocky smirk takes over his face, his body relaxing a fraction. His hands gripping her arse are his only warning before he slams into her in one hard thrust.

Her back bows, a scream climbing up her throat and her nails claw at his back. “Fuck.” She moans as he pulls out and snaps his hips, fucking her hard against the bookcase.

Her eyes are half-lidded as she looks at him, not wanting to miss the rapture on his face. Instead, his signature smirk greets her gaze.

“I knew you’d be loud,” he pants between thrusts. The arsehole.

Her fucks her hard, making her moan so she can’t retort. Chasing his own pleasure, he slams into her over and over again. She cries out his name as ecstasy builds in her body like a slow rolling fog.

“Is this good, Granger? Fuck, I need to feel you come. I need you to come on my cock.”

“Just…don’t…stop,” she pants.

Shifting their bodies, he moves Hermione to fuck into her deeper, hitting that delicious spot inside of her with every stroke, the spot that makes her vision go white and her toes curl. Static pleasure blooms, spreading from her limbs, centring at her core.

“Oh, fuck. Draco.” Hermione bites her lip as her eyes pinch shut.

Waves of bliss roll over her as he pounds into her, taking and taking and not stopping until a deep, satisfied groan spills from his lips. His hips stutter and still, his hands branding her with his grip.

Hermione moans with the aftershocks, revelling in Draco’s undoing as he spills inside of her.

Sweat dots his forehead from exertion of fucking her mad and holding her up at the same time. He’s panting and she’s sure she looks equally wrecked.

A small smile tugs at Draco’s lips before he leans in and kisses her, softer this time, taking his time with her.

He pulls out, vanishing the mess and lowering her to her feet. Hermione feels drunk off of…everything. Off of winning and pleasure and Draco.

A snort-like laugh spills out of her as she says, “Well, we know that aspect of us works”

Draco’s crooked, amused smile appears and his eyebrows shoot up. “Is there a part of us that doesn’t work?” He seems to be genuinely asking, like he can’t fathom anything but their easy compatibility.

Sighing and spent, Hermione grabs her denims, tugging them back up her legs before she sits on the floor. She leans back against the bookshelf she’d just been thoroughly fucked against. “I think we should talk.”

Notes:

thank you always to ann for refusing to take a break and reading through my smut (that i forgot i wrote) every week

Chapter 16

Hermione stretches out her legs, crossing her right ankle over her left on the floor of the restricted section. Slowly, Draco lowers himself to sit beside her, his right leg straight and his left knee bent.

“Talk?”

Hermione nods and takes a steadying breath. “Nerve’s over, by the way. Did you know?” She looks over at him to catch his reaction.

The muscle in his jaw jumps. “I suspected.”

“Why did you do it?” she asks, the words spilling from her lips in an exhale.

He taps his left pointer finger on his bent knee. “You’ll have to be more specific than that, Granger.”

“The game. You…quit. You didn’t finish your dare.” She thinks back on their argument then clarifies. “Or rather you did, but you didn’t record it.”

He drags an agitated hand through his hair roughly. “I told you. I never set out to play Nerve anyway—”

“Draco.”

He sighs and turns his head, looking down at her. “It wasn’t about the game, Granger. It was about you. I just wanted to spend time with you, and then next thing I knew you were winning.”

She licks her lips and looks down, her finger picking at the carpet of the restricted section. “Is that why you gave me easy dares? Because you didn’t think I could win otherwise?”

He pivots, looking at her head on as an offended scoff leaves his lips. “You’re a fucking war heroine, Hermione. No one thinks you’re weak or scared.” 

Her breath leaves her in a rush. She blinks rapidly and swallows past a sudden, unexpected burst of emotion. Lavender, Parvati, even Ginny were so quick to tell her she couldn’t play Nerve, that she should quit because being brave and daring isn’t her thing.

But here’s Draco Malfoy of all people reminding her of who she is, acknowledging that she doesn’t need some stupid game to be brave.

Sure, her dares may not have been dangerous and reckless like Lavender’s or Theo’s, but in a way, for her, it was even scarier.

She never balked about being brave while fighting alongside Harry and Ron. But putting herself out there with Draco required a different kind of bravery.

“If you had to do Brown’s dare. The one on the broom. Would you have done it?”

Hermione shrugs. “I don’t know,” she says honestly.

He tilts his head as he eyes her pointedly. They both know she wouldn’t have done Lavender’s dares. “I was hedging my bets. I couldn’t risk you bailing early on the game.”

“So, you took me shopping. For an obscene amount of money, might I add.”

Draco rolls his eyes. “It wasn’t that much money.”

“Not to you, maybe,” she mumbles under her breath.

“It was worth it.” His pinky twitches, his hand beside hers on the ground, the digit just barely brushing over her finger.

“I can’t keep your money, Draco.” She shakes her head. Something about it feels wrong, like she owes him her affections.

“I don’t expect anything from you,” he says, accurately reading her thoughts like he already knows her so well. “You won it. It’s yours to do with as you wish. As soon as you won the game, it was transferred over to your vault.”

Still…

Hermione pulls her hand into her lap. “I think I need to take things slow.”

“Granger, I just fucked you against a bookshelf.” He’s not angry; his tone is more amused than anything.

Her cheeks heat. There’s still this part of her that wonders when they’re back in class tomorrow—or today, rather—if things are going to go back to how they were. “I just need to make sure this is real.”

He nods, even though there’s a hint of something trapped behind his gaze. Fear or hurt, something Hermione can’t place. “Okay.” He pushes off the floor, wiping his hands on his trousers before offering her a hand. “Can I at least walk you back to your dorm? It’s late.” He smirks, the words reminiscent of the last time they were in the library, when they were merely sharing their fantasies instead of bringing them to life.

They walk side-by-side up to Gryffindor Tower, their knuckles brushing with nearly every step, but neither one of them will take the leap to hold the other’s hand.

When they reach the Fat Lady’s portrait, Draco pushes his hands into his trouser pockets, a handsome grin on his face. “Maybe I should dare you to go on another date with me.”

Hermione wrinkles her nose. “I think I’ve had enough dares for one lifetime.” She turns and whispers the password, the Fat Lady opening the portrait hole for her. Before she steps inside, she pushes up on her toes and plants a kiss on his cheek. “Goodnight, Draco.”

“‘Night, Granger.”

***

After leaving Draco in the corridor, Hermione lies wide awake, staring at the canopy ceiling of her bed. She tries to fall asleep, pinching her eyes closed, counting hippogriffs, deep breathing, but memories of the library, of Draco’s hands and lips on her body, distract her. She repeatedly starts the process all over again, but doesn’t successfully sleep at all that night.

Time passes, stretching between what could be minutes or hours as Hermione’s mind races and she tosses and turns in her bed. Giving up, she casts a silent tempus charm, the clock reading half four in the morning. She still has hours before breakfast even starts.

She needs to shower and her stomach keeps rumbling but she can’t bring herself to get out of bed.

What if everything is different now?

What if nothing is different now?

She’s not sure which thought scares her more.

Once Lavender and Parvati leave the dorm for the Great Hall, she finally slips out of bed and takes a long, hot shower, her mind racing the entire time.

After she finishes, feeling no more relaxed than when she got into the shower, she wraps her towel around herself, brushes her teeth, and heads back to her room. Once again, she finds a familiar redhead sitting on her bed.

“I wasn’t sure you’d go to breakfast.” She holds up two scones. “I had the elves bring me these.”

She knows me well. “Are you sure you just didn’t want to go to breakfast?” Hermione asks with raised brows. Her silence is all the answer she needs. I know her well too.

Turning to her dresser, Hermione quickly gets dressed, asking Ginny over her shoulder, “So? What happened yesterday?” After pulling on her uniform, she joins her friend on her mattress and takes one of the proffered scones, biting into it with a soft moan.

“Harry and I talked. For a while.” 

“Really? Did you Floo call him?”

She shakes her head. “I went straight to the owlery and sent him a letter asking if we could meet in Hogsmeade.”

“Are you okay?”

Ginny shrugs. “It hurts, you know? It sucks. But even he agreed it wasn’t working.” She starts pulling apart the crumbly pastry, popping tiny pieces into her mouth. “I think he’s finally going to see a mind healer.”

“Good. I’m glad.” Somehow, even though the war is over, Harry is still carrying the burden of it. Hermione sincerely hopes he gets the help he needs. “And Theo?”

She flushes as red as her hair.

“I’m happy for you. If he, somehow, makes you happy.”

Ginny snorts. “I have a feeling you’ll be spending a lot more time with him too.”

“Because of you?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, ‘Mione.”

She sighs. “Right, well, unless we plan on skipping class today, we should get going.”

“You’re not going to tell me anything?” Ginny groans.

“Merlin, you and Theo belong together.”

“Why does that feel like an insult?”

Hermione smirks and ignores her, gathering her school bag.

But Ginny doesn’t give up that easily. “What class do you have first?”

Hermione rolls her eyes. “You know exactly what I have first. Potions.”

“Hmm.” The redhead hums.

“Fine.” She knows her friend will be relentless until Hermione gives her something to hold onto, and it might not be the worst thing to confide in someone about what happened between her and Draco.

Plus, there’s a small part of her insecurities lingering, and if all of this with Draco turns out to be fake, well, Ginny has a mean bat bogey hex.

She moves toward her dorm room door, twisting her lips to hide her smile as she grabs the handle before admitting, “I had sex with Draco, okay?”

“You what!?”

“Twice,” she calls over her shoulder, jogging down the steps to the common room.

“Hermione Granger, you get your arse back here!”

She slips through the portrait hole, half-jogging away from Ginny who, thanks to her many years of quidditch, is right on her heels.

Laughing, she stumbles out of the portrait hole, and comes to a halt when she sees Draco on the steps outside of the door. He leans against the banister, a grin tugging at his lips when their eyes meet.

He opens his mouth, to say what, she’s not sure, because Ginny comes barrelling into her from behind.

“Hermione Jean Granger! You had sex with Draco Malfoy!?”

Hermione winces and shifts to the side so the witch behind her can see the wizard standing in front of her.

An amused smirk on his face, Draco raises his brows as he looks at Hermione before turning his attention to Ginny. “Weaselette,” he says in greeting.

“Shit. Oh. Well, hello, Malfoy,” she purrs with laughter in her voice. “I’ll, ah, let you two get back to it.” She slinks past Hermione, winking at her before jogging down the steps from Gryffindor Tower.

“What are you doing here?” Hermione asks, her voice suddenly breathless.

He steps toward her, and somehow it’s the first time she notices the small bouquet he’s holding in his hand. “I wanted to walk you to class. And to give you these.” He holds out a parchment-wrapped bouquet of white roses.

“They’re beautiful.”

“They symbolize new beginnings.” He shrugs, pushing his hands into his uniform-trouser pockets.

“You’ve studied flowers?” Bringing the bouquet to her nose, she inhales the sweet smell.

“It’s all part of growing up as a Pureblood. We study flowers, take dance classes…”

“You know how to dance?”

“You couldn’t tell back at Evanesco?” he smirks.

She flushes as the memory floods her mind. “There wasn’t a whole lot of dancing happening.” Biting her lip, she looks up at the handsome Slytherin before her. “Thank you, Draco.”

“You’re welcome.” Fuck, when he looks at her like that. Beaming. An expression she never would have imagined seeing on his face, let alone looking at her like that. “Come on. We’re gonna be late.” His hand twitches in his pocket, as if he wants to offer it to her, but he refrains.

Bouquet of flowers in hand, Hermione follows Draco down the steps from Gryffindor Tower, walking side-by-side the entire way to the Potions classroom. Once they’re in the dungeons, he holds the door open for her, and she steps into the cold classroom.

Immediately, her eyes find her usual table, the desk she shared with Blaise for the entire year until last Friday. Dark chocolate eyes find hers, a grin of encouragement tugging on Blaise’s lips.

Merlin things were so different only a handful of days ago. Getting that look from him last week might’ve been enough to encourage her that they could be more than lab partners, more than friends. Now, she sees him differently.

Even Theo, who turns around at their entrance and grins wickedly, winking at her and nodding at Draco behind her. In their own weird way, they’re looking out for their friend. Even if Hermione ended up caught in the middle of their theatrics.

She narrows her gaze at the mischievous Slytherin, eyes panning briefly to Blaise before she moves into the classroom and takes a seat at an empty lab bench. Carefully, she puts the bouquet of white roses on her desk, off to the side so they stay safe and out of her way. Naturally, Draco takes the stool beside her with a winning smirk on his face, as if Hermione was the prize all along.

Her eyes find Lavender’s judgmental stare; her blonde roommate rolling her eyes and huffing as she glares before spinning around and whispering to Parvati.

From behind her, Neville leans forward. “Congrats on Nerve, Hermione.”

She spins to look at him, smiling at the pride on his face. “Thanks, Neville.”

Dean calls out, “Free drinks to Hermione for the rest of the year!” while most of her classmates laugh.

“Shh!” Hermione urges, looking around for Professor Slughorn who, luckily and unsurprisingly, is late. “You and Seamus don’t even charge for drinks,” Hermione whispers.

“Remind me to never go into business with the two of you,” Draco adds over his shoulder.

Hermione bumps her knee against his and he gives her a private grin.

“No wonder we’re skint,” Dean mutters.

Hermione spins back around as Professor Slughorn finally enters the room, stumbling down the steps and chuckling to himself. “Good morning, good morning. Today we’re going to make Fiducia Brew.”

Hermione snorts under her breath. Turning her head to the side, she says, “I think a confidence boosting potion is the last thing you need.”

Draco quirks a brow at her. “That right, Granger?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Fiducia Brew is a rather difficult potion,” Slughorn continues on.

Hermione turns to her lab partner. “Hear that, Malfoy? It’s a difficult potion.” While there are some things between her and Draco she hopes will be different, there are other things she wants to stay the same.

Like the unspoken yet ongoing potions competition between them that she’ll never admit makes her a better brewer.

“Turn your completed potion in at the end of class and I’ll test them for accuracy by class on Wednesday,” Professor Slughorn concludes. “You may begin.”

Hermione eyes Draco’s hands, those talented, competent fingers as he reaches for his cauldron. She knows him to be patient, capable of simmering a potion to potent perfection.

A similar effect he has on her blood. Except, unlike the potions, his hands are far too capable of making her explode.

“What do you say, Granger? Whoever gets the better marks buys the other dinner?”

She narrows her eyes. “Is that a dare?”

“More of a bet.”

She holds out a hand so they can shake on it. “You’re on.”

She doesn’t mind one bit when his hand lingers in hers a bit too long.

Chapter 17

Braving the Great Hall Tuesday morning, she and Ginny walk arm-in-arm to breakfast, the pair of them getting stares (and glares) for a multitude of reasons. A lot of people have not gotten past the fact that Ginny cheated on the Saviour of the Wizarding World, not understanding the complexities behind the choice.

Not that Hermione condones the behaviour, but there’s a part of her that understands the desire for companionship. Harry and Ron abandoned her too. Not just by not coming back to Hogwarts this year, but ever since the war ended. Harry pushed everyone away, including her.

Not responding to Hermione’s letters is one thing, but Harry completely cutting off his own girlfriend is another.

Meanwhile, her breakup with Ron destroyed any friendship they had, which was already relatively frail and fraught to begin with.

And if he knew what she’d done with Draco last weekend…

Speak of the devil. “Draco. Hi.” 

She and Ginny just barely squeeze in at the Gryffindor table between Seamus and Neville before her boyf—her frien—her former… before the tall blond Slytherin approaches them.

“I wanted to bring you these,” Draco says, holding out a bouquet of purple flowers.

“Ooooooh.”

Hermione elbows Seamus in the ribs at his goading.

“They’re beautiful.” She smells them. “Irises?”

He nods whilst a grin tugs at his lips.

“And what do these mean?”

The smile broadens instantly. “Courage and respect. I thought they represented you well.”

Brows crinkling, she swallows thickly. “Thank you.”

He stares at her, the weight of his gaze heavy. Clearing his throat, he says, “Walk you to class?” On Tuesdays, she and Draco have Ancient Runes together in the morning.

Wrapping up the rest of her scone, she turns to Ginny. “You going to be okay?”

The redhead grins. “Go. Be all gross and coupley and make sure you remember every detail to tell me later,” she says with a wiggle of her brows.

Hermione rolls her eyes.

“You heard her, Granger.” Draco smirks at her, his gaze dragging over her and catching on her throat and again on the bare expanse of thigh between her skirt and socks.

Her body heats under his appraisal and as she passes by him, she feels his gaze on her arse. Leaving the Great Hall, his strides catch up to hers easily.

“We could skip class,” he says, leaning toward her with his hands in his pockets. “Sneak off to the library.”

Hermione snorts. “If you want someone who will skip class to have sex, you’re with the wrong girl.”

“Nah,” he says with a shake of his head, confidence oozing off of him. “That’s one of the things I like about you.”

“That I’m a swot?”

He stops them, grabbing her arm lightly and crowding her back against the castle wall. “That you have a passion for knowledge. That you’re ambitious and competitive and you nearly beat me in every class.”

“Nearly?” Her heart is thudding so hard in her chest as she looks into his silver depths.

He fights a grin, his eyes flitting to her lips. “I still beat you in Potions.”

“I guess we’ll find out tomorrow.”

“Our bet still on?”

She lifts her chin. “Backing out already? Where’s your confidence, Malfoy?”

He  bites his lip, his gaze trained on her mouth. “Oh, no. I’m just worried about you. I have expensive taste, you know. Seven courses, five stars.”

“Is that right?” She licks her lips.

He nods, lowering his mouth to hers slowly.

“Well, I do have a mountain of untouched galleons in my vault these days.”

He snickers. “Buying me dinner with my own money, Granger?”

“Figured you spent so much of it, you might need some back.”

“Are you calling me charity?” Draco laughs, incredulous.

No…but that gives her an idea.

Pushing up onto her toes, she gives him the briefest of kisses, a mere peck on his lips, before skirting away, heading for the Ancient Runes classroom.

He catches up to her easily, his arm wrapping around her waist to catch her. She laughs, feeling more carefree than she’s felt in a long time.

***

By Wednesday she’s almost expecting Draco to be waiting outside her dorm to walk her to Potions class. She can’t ignore the pang of disappointment that flares in her chest when he doesn’t show up.

When she gets to the classroom in the dungeons, she doesn’t overthink it as she takes a seat at the table she’s been sharing with Draco.

She looks around as the classroom fills up, waiting for him to show. The clock ticks past the hour and finally, the doors swing open.

His white-blond hair is windswept, a glow of pink on his cheeks and he’s breathing heavily. Yet, he still managed to beat Slughorn to his own class.

“Sorry I’m late,” Draco whispers as he slides onto the stool beside her. Their thighs are touching and neither one of them pulls away. “These are for you.” He hands her another bouquet, her third this week. Her dorm is going to smell like the Royal Botanic Gardens soon.

“Thank you.” She can’t contain her grin.

“They’re Alyssums. They mean—” But he’s cut off before he gets a chance to tell her.

Professor Slughorn steps to the front of the classroom, a vial in his hand and a grin on his face. “Good morning, class. I have the results of Monday’s potions lesson.”

“Moment of truth,” Draco says. Hermione shivers as his breath ghosts over her ear.

“I’m going to make you take me to a muggle restaurant.”

“I love muggle food,” Draco says, “but that won’t be necessary.”

“Why not.”

“That’s my phial.”

“How do you—”

“Congratulations, Mr. Malfoy.”

Draco winks at Hermione as Professor Slughorn calls out his name. Standing, he gets up to collect his potion, sauntering back to his seat once it’s in his possession.

Hermione glares at him. Raising her hand, she clears her throat until the professor notices her.

“Ah, yes, Ms. Granger?”

“I’m sorry, Professor, but was there something wrong with my potion? I want to write it down for my—my notes.” She stumbles over the words as they slip through her gritted teeth.

“Yes, Ms. Granger. While Mr. Malfoy’s potion was perfect—” The arsehole beside her beams. “—it appears you might have stirred it an extra few times too many before pulling it from the burner.”

“I followed the directions perfectly,” she argues, and feels a flush crawling up her neck.

“Right, well, next time, Ms. Granger. Yours was a very close second—”

Draco starts snickering beside her. She grips her quill so hard it snaps in her palm.

Professor Slughorn gives them a twelve inch writing assignment on the uses and measures of Fiducia Brew, also to be handed in at the end of class.

Leaning over, Draco says, “If you need help with the assignment, I’ll let you copy my notes.”

She considers stabbing his hand with the remainder of her broken quill. “I’m perfectly fine, thank you.”

“It’s alright, Granger. Exceeds expectations is a perfectly acceptable test score.”

She grits her teeth, knowing he’s baiting her and refusing to stoop to his level.

Covering her parchment with her arm, she writes out her essay, and intentionally ignores the laughter happening beside her.

***

After slamming her essay onto Professor Slughorn’s desk, Hermione grabs her school bag and her bouquet of flowers before exiting the potions classroom.

Following behind her, Draco calls, “I expect you to pick me up at my room on Friday, Granger.”

“I’m sorry?”

“It’s customary for a date, after all.”

She glowers at him. “Shall I bring flowers and chocolates, too?”

“Only if you want to seduce me.” Before she can say anything else, he adds, “So, yes.”

She tries to swallow her laughter but it bubbles out of her anyway. “You’re incorrigible.”

“No, I’m insatiable.” Lust-filled eyes scan over her very being. His heated gaze traps her, and once more she finds herself pinned between his arms against the castle wall.

More and more, she realises she doesn’t mind finding herself in such a compromising position.

“You never did tell me what these flowers mean.”

His mouth ticks up on one side. “Alyssum are flowers that mean ‘worth beyond beauty.’”

Her jaw falls open slightly, eyebrows dipping into a ‘v’. “Oh,” she breathes out. “I—” Unsure how to respond to that, she says, “I’ll pick you up at six on Friday.” Her chocolate eyes zero in on his pink lips.

He licks them, tempting her. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“Can you two at least do something worthy of giving us a show?” Theo says, interrupting their moment in the hallway.

“My striptease not enough to sustain you, Theodore?” Draco asks without even pulling his gaze away from Hermione.

“I told you, if it were Granger—”

“Don’t even finish that sentence,” Draco practically growls.

Hermione bites her lip and turns her head to the side. “Hi, Theo.”

“Granger. You look lovely pinned beneath my best friend. Maybe next time—”

Draco pulls away from her, stalking toward Theo and grabbing his jumper to drag him down the hall before he can finish his sentence.

***

Thursday brings pink Gladiolus. He waits for her after breakfast, collecting her from the Gryffindor table to walk her to runes class.

“I probably should have started with these,” he tells her.

“Why’s that?”

“Gladiolus represent integrity, strength, and victory. Specifically a gift for a graduate or game winner.”

She smiles. “You’re joking.”

Grinning, he shakes his head. “Seemed appropriate.”

“I love them, Draco. Thank you.” She can’t wait to add them to her collection. “Where do you keep getting all these flowers?” She’s not even sure some of them are native to the UK.

He winks at her. “I can’t tell you all my secrets.”

Shaking her head, she knows she’ll have to repay him in kind for their date tomorrow.

***

Hermione looks at her vase full of flowers, a thought niggling the back of her mind. She gets distracted, however, when Ginny barrels into her room and bounds onto her bed.

“I think he’ll approve of your outfit at least,” Ginny snarks, staring at Hermione who is still in her underwear.

“Hilarious.” Can Ginny hear the edge of panic in my tone!? She wraps a robe around herself to cover up.

“You’re freaking out.”

“A little, yeah!”

“Why?”

“Because I’m going on a date with Draco.”

Ginny continues to stare at her. “You realise you’ve already gone on a date with him and had sex with him twice, right? Or have you snuck in another round in the potions storeroom since last weekend? Has Malfoy decorated the room of requirement with rose petals and feather pillows?” she jokes, toying with one of Hermione’s many bouquets, all of which have a stasis charm so they don’t die.

“Hilarious,” she deadpans. “No, it’s only been the two times, which only makes me more nervous!”

“Why? Because you’re afraid you’ll jump his bones before the dessert course?”

“Ginny!”

The redhead snorts. “Come on, ‘Mione. You’re all twisted up that you’re not making any sense.”

“Can you just help me pick out an outfit, please?”

“What’s wrong with the very sexy lingerie you’re currently wearing?” If her eyes could shoot an avada, Ginny would be dead right now. “Alright! Alright. Show me your options.”

Hermione pulls out a jumper and Ginny fake gags.

“Are you eighty-seven? Next.”

She tosses it to the floor and grabs a modest dress.

Ginny tilts her head from side to side, her chin balancing on her fist. “It’s cute…but what else’ve ya got?”

“I’m running out of options here, Gin.”

“You’ve shown me two things. Do we need to go raid my closet?” Hermione laughs, but Ginny doesn’t seem to be joking. “Don’t you have anything tight and black? Or green! I bet Malfoy likes green.”

Hermione doesn’t tell her about the knickers he bought on their shopping dare.

Flipping through things in her tiny closet, Hermione diverts the conversation. “So, how are you and Theo?”

Ginny sighs dreamily. “We’re good.”

“That’s it? That’s all I get?”

“He does this thing with his tongue—”

“I just meant,” she says, cutting off her friend, “I haven’t seen you two together much.”

Ginny’s tone takes on one of mischief. “We still sneak around.”

“Are people giving you a hard time when you’re with him?” Hermione turns, her brows furrowed.

“Yeah, but that’s not why we do it.”

“Then why—”

“Because it’s hot,” she grins wickedly.

Hermione shakes her head, turning back to her closet. “Okay. What about this? Is this too boring?” The hint of panic returns.

Ginny cocks her head, assessing the simple black dress. “Not with the right accessories.”

Hermione’s shoulder’s fall a bit.

“Do you like this dress?”

“Yes,” she shrugs.

“Are you comfortable in it? Does it make you feel good?” Ginny keeps asking.

Hermione nods. “I guess.”

“Then that’s all that matters. You want to be comfortable on your date, right? You want to feel like you?”

“Like a hot version of me.”

“Bitch, you are hot. Draco Malfoy apparently fell for you when you had frizzy hair and lumpy Hogwarts sweaters.”

Hermione flushes. She still can hardly believe he actually likes her. Her fears that things would go back to the way things were after playing Nerve have been mostly unfounded.

Most things have gone back to normal, which she prefers. She’s still Hermione Granger the minute she enters the classroom. She’s still the first person to raise her hand and turn in her assignments. Aside from a few jokes, and promises of free drinks, her friends don’t treat her any differently.

But Draco Malfoy does.

Every day this week, he’s brought her flowers, walked her to class, walked her to her dorm at the end of the night. He hasn’t been pushy, and she’s welcomed his flirting if anything. He’s been…perfect.

That’s why she wants tonight to be perfect too. She’s put a lot of thought and effort into their date and she wants to wow him.

Dropping her dressing gown, she pulls the dress over her head, surely messing up her curls in the process.

The long-sleeve dress hugs her frame to her waist where the skirt flares out and lands at her mid-thigh.

“Okay, I lied, you don’t look boring at all.”

“How reassuring,” Hermione deadpans.

“No! You look hot, I promise. Just…come here.” Ginny kneels on the bed, waving her hand for Hermione to stand in front of her. “Turn. Let me fix your hair.”

Ginny fluffs and pins her curls, pulling the ringlets out of her face. “Spin.” She waits until Hermione is facing her. “Perfect. Okay, jewellery?”

Nodding, Hermione moves toward her vanity and jewellery box. “Should I do earrings or—”

“No. Let’s do…” Ginny moves some things around, grabbing a few different necklaces from the box. “These.” She layers a couple necklaces and nods when she’s satisfied with the look. “Now, shoes.”

“I was thinking—”

“No.”

“But you didn’t even let me—”

“Trust me. I’ll be right back.” Moving toward the door, Ginny slips out of the room and returns a few minutes later with a pair of boots in her hands. “These.”

“We don’t wear the same size.”

Ginny sighs, exasperated. “We’re magic, Hermione. We can make them fit.” She shakes her head.

Even after all these years, Hermione sometimes forgets the simple things, like that she can alter a shoe or dress size to fit her better.

Sitting on the bed, Hermione tugs on the boots. Once they’re laced in place, she stands and looks at herself in the mirror. “You don’t think a simple high heel would look better? Expose more leg?”

“No, trust me. That sliver of thigh where the boots end and the dress begins? It’s a wizard’s kryptonite.”

Hermione recalls the way Draco’s eyes would linger on the very same patch of skin when she’s in her Hogwarts uniform. “Okay. I trust you.”

On her desk she laid out the flowers and chocolates she bought for Draco. She grabs them and her purse before turning back to Ginny with only a few minutes to spare.

“How do I look?”

Tapping her finger on her chin, Ginny studies her, before her face splits into a wide grin. “That man is going to devour you whole.”

“Ginny!”

“What! You look hot.” She nods her head toward Hermione’s pile of stuff. “Flowers and chocolates?”

“It’s an…inside joke.”

“You and Malfoy already have inside jokes?” the redhead wrinkles her nose.

Hermione ignores her. With nerves and adrenaline fighting for control, she takes a steadying breath and leaves her dorm, ready to take Draco Malfoy on a date.

Notes:

sorry this one was a little late! i had a fest piece to finish up and submit this weekend.

thanks as always to ann, my beta!!!!! ilu

also....if you didn't notice....the chapter count is now at 20. whoops! ;)

Chapter 18

When Hermione gets down to the dungeons, she’s fully prepared to use the password to enter the Slytherin dorms, but she doesn’t get the chance. Draco is waiting for her in the hallway, leaning against the castle wall that she knows opens up to the Slytherin common room. He has one foot on the ground and one leg bent, his foot planted on the wall where he waits casually.

The heels of her boots echo on the floor and he looks up, his gaze dragging over her. She replies in kind, her steps slowing as she approaches, drinking him in.

Merlin, he’s handsome.

Her eyes raise from his brown dragon hide shoes to his dark tailored suit trousers. He twirls his wand between his fingers, the colour of the wood perfectly matching his shoes and belt. Silver cufflinks glint off the sparse dungeon lighting, the effect otherwise shrouding the wizard in shadow. Under a charcoal jacket that matches his trousers, Draco’s shirt is white and pristine, the top few buttons undone.

He pushes off the wall, almost looking angry in his severity. He pockets his wand smoothly as he moves toward her with fierce determination. The sharpness of his jaw contrasts the fire in his eyes and with his hands free, he reaches for her. His left hand slips into her hair, his right wrapping around her waist and tugging her flush against him.

Before she can even greet him, his lips are on hers.

Hermione manages to save the gifts in her hands, holding them tight as she wraps her arms around Draco.

He kisses her like he's  starving for her, his hands moulding her body against his. Lips parting, he slips his tongue into her mouth to taste her, a whisper of a groan sneaking from his throat as their tongues tangle together. His lips are soft and he tastes like mint and lust and something so perfectly Draco she can’t help but moan in response.

His hand flexes on her hip and he nips her lip, breaking the kiss breathlessly. He offers her one final peck on her lips before pulling away, his grey eyes stormy with need.

“Hi,” she says stupidly, breathlessly.

He smirks at her, his thumb brushing over her cheek. “Hi.” He takes a step back. “Once I saw you I knew I couldn’t wait until the end of the night to do that.” His gaze feels like fiendfyre as he looks her over once more. “You look incredible.”

She wrinkles her nose. “You think so? I wasn’t sure—”

“Hermione.” The growl in his tone is an aphrodisiac all on its own. “You look incredible.” He steps into her, tilting her chin up once more to kiss her again, as if he can’t help himself.

She smiles against his lips, accepting his kiss eagerly. “Thank you.” For the compliment, for the kiss, for bloody all of it.

Clearing her throat, she steps out of his embrace. “These are for you.”

He quirks a brow at her. “Flowers and chocolates?”

“As requested,” she says, mock-snootily with her nose in the air. Flowers and chocolates…only if you want to seduce me.

She ensured to grab both.

“I did research some flowers. I thought these seemed appropriate. Not the most complex meaning behind them, but—”

“Forget me nots?” Hermione bites her lip as she nods. “I love them,” Draco tells her. “But, Granger, I don’t think anyone could forget you.” He shakes his head, his teeth digging into his bottom lip. “I certainly don’t plan to.”

Her entire body feels warm with the weight of his words. She’s half convinced she’s melted into a puddle at his look alone.

He smirks as she’s rendered speechless. “I should put these in my room before we go.”

Hermione nods. Before Draco can whisper the password, she says, “Veritaserum.” The doors appear and Draco looks at her wide-eyed, impressed. “Didn’t Theo tell you I came looking for you in your room before I found you in the library?”

His eyes widen before zeroing in on her, his mind clearly wandering. “I always imagined you in my dorm room,” he smirks.

“Theo said something similar.” She laughs at his reaction.

“Well, no time like the present.” Taking her hand, Draco tugs her toward the doors to his common room.

She digs her feet in, not following him through the door. “I should wait here.”

“Why?”

Looking up at him from under her lashes she says, “Because I have a feeling if I follow you into your bedroom, we won’t be making the reservation I made.”

Flames of unfettered desire darken his gaze. “We can always skip dinner.”

Tempting. Hermione holds strong, shaking her head slowly. “No, you see, my date is very particular. Seven courses, five stars. I’d hate to disappoint him.”

“He sounds high maintenance.”

“Incredibly.” She grins.

“I’ll be quick.”

“And now he’s keeping me waiting,” she calls after him, laughing to herself.

***

“You know I wasn’t serious when I said I needed a fancy restaurant.” Looking over at Draco, Hermione notices his furrowed brows, contrition colouring his face.

Hermione snorts. “No need to lie to me now, Malfoy. I knew who I was going out with tonight.”

She leads him through the streets of London, stopping in front of a restaurant with white pillars out front and a balcony with outdoor tables above them.

Hermione grabs the brass handle and Draco immediately moves behind her, taking the door from her grasp.

Once inside, they’re led to a private booth in the back. Hermione takes her seat and fluffs her napkin onto her lap before looking at Draco.

Leaning across the table, she whispers, “Make sure you keep your wand tucked away. This is a very expensive muggle restaurant.” She grins at him. “So you can’t even think about paying tonight.”

“Cheeky witch,” he grumbles under his breath.

They fight over the wine course in a way that, instead of lacing Hermione with irritation, has her skin buzzing with adrenaline and ardour.

They flirt over the soup course, Draco staring at her mouth with every lick of her tongue along the silver spoon.

By the time the main course comes around, Hermione feels ready to burst, both from how full she is and also from how desperately she wants to hop over to his side of the booth and take him right here.

She’s spent more than two hours now noticing him. Cataloguing everything about him. The tilt of his lips when he’s flirting with her. The arch of his eyebrow when she flirts back. The genuine grin she feels lucky to see and have aimed at her.

How nice his hands are.

How broad his shoulders are.

The single freckle on his neck just above his collar, a spot her lips have gravitated to in the past. The way her eyes linger there, wanting to taste him more than she wants to taste what is surely a perfectly cooked chicken breast on her plate.

Eventually, their plates are cleared and Hermione has no interest in dessert, only wanting the sweetness of him on her tongue, but Draco has other ideas.

A cake is ordered, something chocolatey and covered in raspberries. The waitress brings it to their table, a single fork placed beside the plate.

Well, that’s okay, she thinks. I didn’t want dessert anyway.

Draco picks up the fork and pushes the prongs into the decadent cake. He whispers something she doesn’t catch because she’s too busy staring at his mouth. Then he’s leaning over the table, the fork pointed at her, the bite of cake an offering.

Oh.

For reasons she can’t place, nor does she want to address them in this very moment, there’s something oddly…sexy almost, about Draco feeding her.

Leaning forward in kind, Hermione wraps her mouth around the prongs of the fork. A moan escapes her throat, deep and heady, as the rich chocolate and raspberry flavour coats her tongue.

Her eyes snap up to meet Draco’s gaze, fire reflected in his smoky depths. She’s sure her expression matches his. She’s sure she’s been staring at him similarly all night.

Eyes on him, she doesn’t notice the way he’s helped himself to a bite of cake, not until the fork is in his mouth, his lips wrapped around the same metal hers surrounded only moments ago.

She bites her lip, shifting in her seat. Draco’s eyes snag on her lips. In the span of the next heartbeat, Hermione signals for the waitress.

***

“You’re all set. Have a good evening.” She grins the type of smile someone might have after inheriting a lot of money.

“I don’t understand,” Hermione says. “I haven’t paid yet.”

“The bill’s already been handled. You two have a nice night.”

She walks away and when Hermione tries to stop her, Draco’s voice interrupts. Suddenly everything clicks into place.

“How did you—”

Draco cocks his head, brows arched toward his hairline. “Did you really think I would go on a date with Hermione Granger and not be prepared for this possibility?”

“But I was—you didn’t have to—” She huffs. “I can buy you dinner, Malfoy.”

His lips twitch, threatening to tug up on one side. “It’s a date, Granger. I wasn’t going to let you pay.”

The feminist in her wants to argue but the romantic wants to swoon. She settles for a glare. “Thank you.”

“Yes, you look very thankful.”

She rolls her eyes, the heat between them no longer at a rolling boil, instead settling somewhere below a simmer. Not too far from the surface but not as urgent as it’d been over the dessert course.

“Care for a walk?” she asks. “Am I allowed to pick the activity?”

“You picked the restaurant.”

“I just couldn’t pay for it,” she notes.

Draco sighs. “I wanted to do something nice for you.”

“Funnily enough, I’m not dating you for your money.”

“Oh, no? Is it my charm, then? My good looks?”

Hermione shakes her head. “It’s certainly not how humble you are,” she mutters.

Draco laughs. “What is it then? Enlighten me. Why did you decide to go out with me?” There’s something in his voice, a vulnerability that slips through the cracks like smoke.

Is he afraid of her answer? Or more afraid that she won’t have one?

“I was worried that nothing would change after Nerve. That we’d go back to…coexisting in class. That everything between us was part of the game. And I know what you said, but I needed to see it for myself. That it wasn’t just a game to you, I guess.”

“It was never a game to me.”

“I think I’m starting to believe that.”

Draco goes quiet as they walk the cobblestone streets of London. Glancing up at him, it looks like he’s fighting with himself, his jaw clenching and unclenching several times. His brows furrow and when he sneaks a look down at Hermione, he realises he’s been caught.

“What is it?”

He stops walking, hands pressed against the half wall overlooking the river. Turning to face her, he sighs. “Do you know why I brought you those flowers every day this week?”

“You told me their meanings—”

“No, Hermione. Those flowers specifically?”

There’s that thought again, trapped in her mind as she thinks over the beautiful bouquet sitting on her nightstand in her dorm. Something just out of reach that she can’t place.

Draco steps into her, his fingers reaching and brushing against her side.

Against her tattoo.

Her eyes snap up, the lightbulb going off in her mind. Her tattoo. All of the flowers he gave her are ones he chose, ones he helped to etch permanently into her skin.

“Draco, did you…” She breathes out heavily, her brow furrowed. “How did you… Why…?” She has so many questions running through her mind that she doesn’t know where to start.

Each flower he gave her, and all of the meanings…

White roses for a fresh start.

Gladiolus for victory…but how did he know when he picked that flower for her tattoo?

Irises for courage.

Alyssums…worth beyond beauty.

A sob catches in her throat as she’s overwhelmed by emotion.

By his thoughtfulness.

She hasn’t said it, hadn’t even realised it, that it’s one of the reasons she is here with him tonight. Since the beginning of the game, the way he helped and supported her, but didn’t take advantage of her. From defending her to their friends and respecting her boundaries but still pushing her, like with the skinny dipping.

The way he chose that beautiful dress from Lusso to painstakingly choosing her tattoo… and now learning the meaning behind it.

“What do the rest of them mean?” she asks, her voice wobbling.

Though her tattoo is hidden by her dress, his thumb trails over it perfectly, like he memorised where it sits on her body. “Hyacinths ask for forgiveness. Gardenias are for a secret crush.” A small, private grin tugs at his lips. “And I threw in some wildflowers because they’re resilient. They thrive everywhere, even in the harshest of conditions, even when others try to destroy them. They persevere,” he says quietly, voice catching.

Leaning into his touch, Hermione pushes up onto her toes. Her right hand moves to Draco’s neck to pull his lips down to hers.

Her fingers thread into his hair as her tongue dips into his mouth. She kisses him recklessly, any ounce of lingering nerves or hesitation vanishing.

Draco returns the kiss eagerly, his arms wrapping around her waist and tugging her flush against him.

Suddenly, it feels like one thousand butterflies invade her stomach, spinning her on the spot as her belly dips. She clings to Draco, holding him tight as the world around her fades to black.

It’s when her heels catch on uneven cobblestone and Draco has to hold her upright that she realises he apparated them back to the castle entry. The gates open for them and anticipation floods her senses as he takes her hand.

This time, she follows him.

He leads her into the castle, through the hallowed corridors, not stopping for anyone or anything. When they get to the dungeons, instead of leading her toward the entrance to the Slytherin common room, Draco diverts them, slipping down a separate hallway.

Standing in front of another bare expanse of castle wall, Draco whispers, “Firewhisky.” Instantly, a new door appears.

Hermione gasps. How did she not know about this passageway? “What is this?”

Draco looks over his shoulder at her. “I figured you wouldn’t want to go through the common room. This is an…alternate way into my dorm,” he smirks.

Briefly, she thinks of the Marauders map and wonders how long this passage had been here since she’s never known of it before.

“I’m breaking all the rules for you, Granger.” They stop at the end of the hallway in front of the sole door. Grasping the handle, Draco opens the door and they step inside.

They step right into Draco’s dorm, the door blending perfectly with the wall when closed. If she didn’t know where to look, she wouldn’t even see it.

He leads her across the room to what is presumably his space. She bites her lip, looking around at the empty beds.

“Is anyone else—”

“No. Theo and Blaise knew I was going out with you tonight. After a few…colourful comments they promised to stay out of the room.” Hermione flushes. “If they have matching curse marks on them you know why.” He winks. “And I warded the main door. No one else can get in.”

He rubs his hands over her shoulders and down her arms as if to warm her up, when in reality she feels overheated. In his room. In his space. Beside his bed.

“I want you to be comfortable. I want everything to be perfect.”

Wrapping her arms around him, she whispers against his lips, “Everything is perfect.” And then she kisses him.

This time it’s slow, like she’s taking her time with him. Memorising the way his lips form to hers, the groan that catches in his throat, the flex of his fingers on her hips.

He steps forward and she follows, walking backwards until her knees hit his mattress. She sits back, sinking into the softest mattress she’s ever felt.

Breaking the kiss, she tells him, “How is your mattress so much softer than mine?”

Draco smirks. “I brought my own.”

She snorts. “Of course, you did.” She shakes her head and Draco kisses the smirk off her face.

Hermione leans back as Draco leans over her, holding his body weight on his forearms on either side of her. He deepens the kiss as he hovers above her, his body slotting between her thighs.

She hikes her knees over his hips, their cores connecting. His cock is hard in his trousers as he grinds against Hermione’s core. A breathy gasp slips from her lips, her back arching off his mattress.

And they’re still fully clothed.

“Draco, please.”

He kisses down her neck, hot and wet, goosebumps pebbling from the delicious swirl of his tongue on her sensitive skin. Merlin if his tongue can do that on her neck, what else can it do?

His voice is rough as he responds. “I’m going to take my time with you tonight. No quick fucks in a lake or against a shelf. I want to savour you, Granger. I want to worship you the way that you deserve.”

She’s already practically panting. “I quite liked the lake and library, though.”

He chuckles, resting his head against her temple. His breath is hot on her ear causing need to skate down her spine.

“Don’t tempt me, witch.”

Her fingers reach to caress his cheekbone. “I quite like tempting you, though.”

“I’ve noticed.” His lips catch hers, their tongues reuniting in a now-practised dance. Hands glide down her body, stroking over her curves as he finds the hem of her dress.

He undresses her slowly, peeling her clothes off of her. Her heart swells under his watchful gaze, the way he can’t seem to stop looking at her, touching her. As if he can’t believe she’s here, and real, and in his bed.

Hermione works on his buttons with patience she’s faking despite the swell of need pulsing through her core. She pushes his oxford shirt over his shoulders, gliding the fabric along his arms as she undresses him.

As she goes, she finally gets her chance to study the art decorating Draco’s arm. The black and silver dragon sits beneath a full moon as if protecting the snake and garden. Hints of constellations peek through the art, layered like a book Hermione can’t read but is desperately trying to translate. His arm, once blackened and branded by hate, is bright with colourful narcissus flowers, an emerald snake, and a few white roses.

New beginnings.

Her fingers trail over the ink delicately as she takes her time, and Draco doesn’t rush her. “This is beautiful, Draco.” She bites her lip. “You’re kind of beautiful.”

His lips quirk up on one side. “See, I knew you were with me for my looks.”

She laughs and squeals as he rolls her over, pinning her beneath him to the bed. The laughter dies suddenly in her throat as she stares up into his heated gaze.

“Fuck.” The word is gritty on his tongue.

“What?” She sinks back into the mattress, glancing from side to side as a blush crawls up her cheeks.

“You. Look at you.” His eyes map a path his hand follows eagerly, over her cheek, dusting over her collarbone, dancing over her bra and landing on her side. His fingers brush against her tender ribs just below her bra against where her own fresh ink lies.

Following the same path as his fingers, he kisses her first on her cheek before moving to her neck. Hermione’s back arches, a gasp spilling from her lips as he hits a particularly sensitive spot. He nips at her collarbones before skipping over her breast, leaving her wanting. She aches for his mouth to explore every inch of her the way his hands did.

Her arm is draped over his shoulder as he moves south but he stops and sits up, inspecting the tattoo he so carefully chose for her.

Leaning in, he kisses the art with reverence, his eyes shining. His fingers trail over the spot as his lips pull away, and his silver eyes turn graphite.

“I love this,” he tells her.

Her brows raise. “I’m glad, considering you drew it and helped tattoo it into my skin.”

His grin turns wicked. “I like that there’s a part of me permanently on your body.”

She shakes her head, but can’t deny the way her knickers dampen under his possessive gaze. “You would,” she says, utterly breathless and aching for him.

Any restraint he held onto snaps, and he kisses her ravenously. One hand fists her knickers while the other slips into her hair to anchor her to him.

“Fuck, I’ve dreamt of this.” The words are a hungry rasp against her lips. “I need you, Hermione.”

Grasping his face between her hands, she waits until he opens those stormy eyes to meet hers. “Then take me. I’m yours, Draco.”

He kisses her once more like he never wants to let her go, like it physically hurts him to break the kiss and sit back on his heels. Leaning up on her elbows to follow him, Hermione reaches behind her back and unclasps her bra. As she lays back against the mattress, Draco reaches for her, pulling the straps down her arms and tossing the lacy fabric aside.

He presses a hand lightly against her throat before sliding his palm down against her sternum, right between her breasts and sits there, staring at his hand between her heaving chest.

Sliding lower still, he moves both hands to her hips and gently peels the matching underwear from her core, dragging it down her legs until she’s bare before him.

“Fuck.” His eyes scour over her bare body. “I really wanted to take this slow but all I can think about is sliding inside of you.”

Cheeks heating, Hermione pulls her gaze from his, but he doesn’t allow her to go far.

“What do you want, Granger?”

Licking her lips, she tells him, “I just want you. We have all the time in the world for everything else.”

At last, he shucks his trousers and pants down at once until he’s full bare and settled between her spread thighs.

He kisses her deeply as he presses into her core. Her breath catches as he slides in to the hilt. Hermione whimpers as he sits still, shifting her hips as she searches for friction.

“Granger, please. You’re testing all of my limits here.”

She laughs against his lips, the sound morphing into a moan as he drags out of her and thrusts back in slowly. Hermione’s hands make a map of him, sliding over the scars bisecting his chest and up to his shoulders, twisting in his hair before her nails scrape down the muscles of his back.

He’s everywhere. Over her, around her, in her. His body, his presence, his magic consumes her. Chocolate and whisky from dinner linger on his tongue as it caresses hers. His hand finds her leg, arching her knee over her hip, and gripping her arse in his palm.

The cadence of his thrusts increases, driving her to the brink of painful pleasure until she erupts, creating a memory of half moons on his shoulders and crying out his name.

His hips stutter as she flutters around him until he stills, her name a groan on his lips that is an aphrodisiac in its own right. She wants to hear him say her name like that every chance she can.

Their breaths syncopate as they finish and Draco rolls to the side. As always, he doesn’t let her go far and can’t seem to stop touching her. He tugs her in close until her body is pressed to his, her arm draped over his stomach and her head pressed to his chest.

The rhythm of his heart pounding in his chest is a constant reminder that it’s that erratic for her, because of her.

She presses a kiss to his chest and immediately feels his lips on her crown.

“I quite liked the bed, too,” she tells him.

He laughs and tilts her chin up to meet his gaze. “So the lake, library, and now the bed. Have you considered maybe it’s just me you like?” A soft smile rests on his lips and a lightness swirls in his silver eyes. Like for once he’s not afraid of what her answer might be.

“Mmm…” She purses her lips. “Hadn’t crossed my mind, no.” She grins and bursts into laughter as Draco pinches her sides.

“I…”

Her breath catches in her throat.

“I’m really glad you’re here,” Draco tells her.

Leaning in, she kisses him, long and slow, pouring all of her heart into the kiss. “I’m really glad I’m here too.”

Notes:

thanks again to my beta <3

Chapter 19

Notes:

Note: I've been told that British schools don't really do graduation ceremonies, esp for high school? But I envisioned the scene in my head with the colors of every robe and as an American, well... humor me :)

After this we just have the epilogue. I hope you've enjoyed the ride thus far <3

The rest of the year passes in a blur of cramming in the library for N.E.W.T.s …and Draco intentionally distracting her from studying as well.

Now that final exams have come and gone, she can try to relax until her scores are owled to her mid-summer. But where she’ll be and what she’ll be doing all summer long is still up in the air.

She glances toward the stack of envelopes still scattered on her nightstand. Seven letters offering her seven jobs, one from each department in the Ministry of Magic. She still hasn’t told Draco about them. They haven’t exactly talked about what the future will bring for them as a couple. She’s happy with him, and she’s learning that for now, that’s all that matters.

Grabbing two fresh envelopes, she seals the cheque inside one and slides a letter into the other before passing them off to her owl.

Before she’s too late to her own graduation, Hermione pins her graduation cap on her head and checks her reflection. Excitement thrums in her veins and she bites her lip as her grin threatens to split her in two. With a nod, she takes one last deep breath before leaving her dorm.

The quidditch pitch is a sea of colour, red robes melding into yellow on one side and blue and green robes across an open aisle. Families and friends sit in the stands behind them while the students face a stage with a podium. The heads of houses all wait in chairs on the stage to announce their graduating students.

The ceremony is larger this year, thanks to the combined seventh and eighth years graduating together. Once every student and family member is in their seats, Headmistress McGonagall approaches the podium. “Welcome to Hogwarts’ Graduation Ceremony.”

Everyone claps and cheers, the energy an intoxicating mixture of excitement and nostalgia.

“Graduating from Gryffindor House, these students have exemplified everything the house stands for. These have been some of the most courageous and brave students I’ve ever had the privilege to teach. Allow me to congratulate you all on your exemplary achievements—well, most of you.”

Hermione swears Headmistress McGonagall looks directly at Seamus when she says that.

Once instructed, the seventh and eighth Gryffindor students all stand and line up behind the stage where they’ll walk across and shake the hands of the Headmistress once their names are called.

“Lavender Brown.”

The blonde struts across the stage, her long hair curled to perfection. Her tassel is tied directly into her hair as if she didn’t want a hat to smash down her perfect curls. Peeking out of her red robes are flashes of pink, from her surely-skintight dress to pink pumps on her feet.

Hermione’s brow furrows as she watches her…former friend, former roommate…saunter across the stage. She winks at the crowd, ever-confident, before stepping down and returning to her seat.

She hates how they left things, trivial fights after a year of fighting for their lives. When they showed up at Hogwarts in the beginning of the year, Hermione wasn’t thrilled to be rooming with her, but along the way things changed. They were actually something like friends before all the drama with the game started.

While the Wizarding World is small, Hermione has no idea where she is going to end up, let alone Lavender or Parvati or even Luna. Does she really want to leave things fractured with the people she stood beside all year?

Thick emotion clogs Hermione’s throat as reality sinks in. Her time at Hogwarts is coming to an end, and who knows when or if she’ll see most of these people again.

Eighth year has brought her more than she ever could’ve imagined. Playing Nerve changed her, and at the end of the day, she has Lavender to thank for that.

The ceremony continues, and Headmistress McGonagall calls the next name with a hint of worry in her gaze. “Seamus Finnegan.”

Seamus climbs the stage and everyone collectively flinches when he pulls out his wand to set off fireworks (but doesn’t singe his—or anyone else’s—eyebrows this time).

Breathing a sigh of relief, everyone claps and cheers. When the noise dies down, Headmistress McGonagall pauses.

“I would be remiss if I did not give special recognition to our next graduate.”

Oh no. Hermione has one foot on the step leading to the stage and instantly she feels hundreds of eyes on her. Her face surely matches the colour of her robe at this point and she searches the crowd for a comforting face.

She finds grey eyes like a beacon calling to her. He’s smirking at her, one brow raised. Instantly, she feels more at ease.

She takes a deep breath as Headmistress McGonagall continues to sing her praises. “Ever-deemed the brightest witch in her year, she has never once boasted her achievements. If not for her, many of us would not be here today. Saving the world while maintaining perfect marks is no easy feat. Please join me in congratulating Hermione Granger.”

Before she climbs up the steps, she meets those stormy grey eyes once more. Draco offers her a wink and a twitch of a smile flickers on the corners of her mouth. Steeling herself with a breath, she walks onto the stage in her comfortable mary jane shoes. She shakes Minerva’s hand with a shy smile on her face. Her classmates all politely clap for her, some louder than others. She’s pretty sure she hears Theo whooping and hollering from his seat.

Stepping off the stage, she returns to her seat, slinking down to hide between her classmates. Over her shoulder, she finds the sea of green robes and smiles at the wizard who changed everything for her. Including himself.

***

With the graduation ceremony over, all the students, professors, and families pile into the Great Hall for food and celebration.

“Hermione.”

She whips around, a biscuit half in her mouth at the sound of that voice. She chews and forces a swallow, coughing as the crumbs scrape against her throat. After wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she blinks, wide-eyed, and says, “Harry. Hi. What, ah, what are you doing here?”

She scans the room quickly, trying to find Ginny, wondering how much he knows about Theo and if Ginny knows he’s here and—

He waves a rolled up piece of parchment. “McGonagall wanted me to come and get my degree. Pretty sure it’s honorary, but she insisted.”

“I’m surprised she didn’t make you give a speech.”

“She tried.”

Hermione smiles softly at that. “Is Ron—”

“He’s with, um, his family.”

Hermione nods in understanding, discomfort laced in her unasked question. “How, um, are you?” Merlin, it’s just as awkward between them. “How’s being an auror?”

Harry scratches the back of his head with a grimace. “I’m…busy. It’s a lot of hard work. Could use you there to save my arse.”

Hermione’s lips tilt to a grin. “I’m sure you’re doing great.”

“Still no interest in joining us?”

Hermione shakes her head. “I think I’ve had enough of chasing the bad guys for one lifetime.” She meets Harry’s green gaze. There’s a weight between them, a heaviness. A world of hurt and unanswered calls and trauma clogging the air around them.

“Hermione, I’m sorry.”

Her nose instantly starts to burn with emotion and she nearly chokes on a sob. Words she somehow never thought she’d hear from him, words she desperately needed to hear from him. She nods, blinking rapidly to keep the tears at bay from those three tiny words.

“I abandoned you after everything you did for me—”

“Harry—”

“No, don’t even try to tell me it’s okay, Hermione. It’s not. I know it’s no excuse, the things I was going through. I know you were going through them too. It didn’t give me any right to push you out of my life. I—” He shakes his head, rubbing at his lightning bolt scar. “I lost so many people and somehow it made sense to push you out of my life before I lost you too. To push everyone out. But it doesn’t make any sense, you know? I’ve lost too many people already. I should’ve…I wish I’d done a lot of things differently.”

“I know.”

“Hermione—”

“No, Harry. I’m not saying it’s okay. It’s not. I’m still so pissed at you. I’m hurt and you were my best friend and I needed you. But I can also understand where you’re coming from. I know what you went through. I get it.”

He nods. “I’m seeing a mind healer. It’s been really great. It’s, well, it started off as mandated by the department but I clearly needed the help.”

“I’m glad. It’s not a bad thing to need help, Harry. It doesn’t make you any less than anyone else.” She points to the parchment clutched in his hand. “From where I’m standing, there’s no one more worthy of graduating from Gryffindor house than you. Brave and courageous…it’s not honorary.” She pulls him in for a hug, holding him tight against her.

“Can we start over?”

Hermione huffs out a laugh. “Absolutely not. I don’t want to relive any of what we’ve gone through.” Harry chuckles. “But we can start again. I’ve missed you. We have a lot to catch up on.”

“Yeah,” Harry says sadly. He looks over her shoulder and Hermione wonders if he spots Ginny.

She catalogues Harry’s features, watching a world of emotions play out on his face. His eyes harden and then widen before narrowing as his brows tug with confusion.

“Potter.” An arm slung through a green robe slides over her shoulders and tugs her into a familiar body.

Hermione’s cheeks heat as she looks up at Draco and back to Harry.

“Uh, Hermione?” Harry’s eyes dart between her and Draco.

“Yeah…remember how I said we have a lot to catch up on?” She wrinkles her nose.

His brows arch toward his messy hairline. “So this is…a thing then?”

Hermione shrugs. “You see what happens when you abandon me?”

“You know I’m right here, yeah?” Draco asks. “Trust me, Potter. She’s in good hands.”

Harry snorts. “Right. The hands that commit theft.”

“I returned the bike in one piece. Go on, Granger. Tell him just how much you like my hands, maybe my fingers when I—”

“Alright!” She slaps a hand over his mouth before he details their sex life to her friend. Behind her hand, she knows Draco’s grin is wicked while Harry looks moments away from hurling up his breakfast.

“Can you give us one more minute?” she asks Draco.

He nods but leans down to kiss her—or rather, to mark his territory surely—in front of Harry. Still, she kisses him back.

“Really, Hermione?” He sighs, the words more confused, not an accusation, as if, like everyone else, he just wants to understand too.

She sighs. “I know. I’m as surprised as you are.” She shrugs. “But I actually want to say I’m sorry too.”

“For what?”

“I could’ve tried harder with you. I knew you were struggling and I let you pull away.”

Harry shakes his head. “I wouldn’t have let you get any closer.”

“I know.” She shrugs. “Doesn’t mean I couldn’t have tried. I love you, Harry.”

He runs a hand through his messy hair. “I actually need to rethink this friendship thing between us. I don’t know if I can hang out with Malfoy.”

Hermione laughs, and Merlin, it feels good to laugh with him again. “He’s really not that bad.”

“Maybe you need a mind healer. I have a recommendation if you want it.”

Hermione elbows him in the ribs.

***

Later that night, while everyone else is off in the Room of Requirement for one last party, Hermione sits alone in her dorm, cross-legged on her bed where she’s spent the last year of her life. In the place she’s spent the most formative years of her childhood; in the castle where her life changed.

She spent seven years here, not all of them good, but not all bad either. She met her best friends, she faced her fears, she helped save the Wizarding World.

She fell in love here. More than once.

It’s surreal that it’s all coming to an end, and in a vastly different way than she would ever have imagined.

She smooths her hands over the duvet, her fingers moving to toy with the curtains, as she takes it all in one last time.

The door to the dorm opens and her head whips to the side. She thought everyone else would be off at the party.

“Oh. Hi.” Hermione stands as Lavender moves toward her soon-to-be-former bed beside hers.

“I forgot something.” She opens up her end table and pulls out a piece of paper folded in threes. “I’ll let you get back to whatever—”

“Lav.”

Lavender hesitates, turning on her kitten heel to look at Hermione. She crosses her arms over her chest and waits.

Hermione sighs. “Look, I’m sorry for the things I said to you and the way I’ve been treating you. I hate that we let a stupid game come between us.”

Lavender scoffs. “Easy for you to say.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You won. Again. You always win everything and the rest of us just have to sit back and watch. You heard McGonagall’s speech about you. We all graduated, we all fought in the war. But we’re not all Hermione Granger, are we?” She shakes her head. “You won the game, you got the guy, you can have any job you want—”

“You can’t be serious. Lavender, I’ve spent years watching how effortlessly you carry yourself. You can talk to anyone, flirt with anyone. People love you. You can date anyone you want. You can do anything you put your mind to. I’ve seen it firsthand.” Hermione takes a deep breath. “I’ve treated you like shit because I’ve been jealous of you, and I’m sorry. You don’t even have to try. You’re carefree and brave and I wish I could be more like that.”

“You? Wish you could be more like me?” Hermione nods, and Lavender only laughs in response. “That’s insane. You might want to get your head checked.”

Hermione chuckles. “People keep telling me that.”

With a sigh, the blonde grins. “I’m sorry too. You had every right to snap at me. I’ve been a bitch to you all year.” She bites her pouty pink lips. “And I’m sorry about the whole Blaise thing. I was jealous of you and I was trying to hurt you. That was a low blow.”

“Thanks.” Hermione wrinkles her nose. “I mean, I had no claim on him and he was clearly into you…”

“No, he wasn’t. I was just…easy. And he was annoyed I kept talking about you,” she says with a grimace.

Hermione laughs. “Lav, you didn’t.”

She covers her face with her hands. “I know. Not my best moment.”

“Well, forget him. Let’s move forward now. I don’t want these petty arguments to be our last memories here.”

Lavender shakes her head. “I don’t either.”

Hermione pats the bed behind her, scootching toward the centre and sitting cross-legged. “Let’s change that then.”

Lavender joins her on the bed, leaning back against the headboard. “I have some exciting news.”

“Well? Tell me.”

Grinning, Lavender opens the piece of paper she took from her nightstand. “I got a job offer with the Ministry. I’m going to be an Unspeakable.”

“Oh my gods. Lavender! Congratulations, that’s incredible.”

She nods excitedly. “I’ll be working in the love room. And that’s literally all I can tell you. Mostly because that’s all I know.”

“I’m so happy for you. See! I knew you could do something like this.”

“Thank you, Hermione. Honestly, I don’t think I could’ve done it without you. You helped me a lot this year with studying.”

“You helped me too. I mean, if you weren’t such a bitch I probably wouldn’t have played Nerve.”

“Oh, fuck off.” Lavender laughs.

“And I wouldn’t have Draco.”

Her brows arch. “So, that’s real between you two?”

Hermione nods, a grin claiming her lips. “Yeah. Trust me, I’m as surprised as you are.”

With a laugh, Lavender hops off of Hermione’s bed. With a hand on her hip and a tilt of her head, she says, “Well, then you better come back to the party with me. Your boyfriend looked absolutely miserable without you.”

Unable to contain her grin, Hermione hurries off the bed to follow Lavender to the party.

As soon as they get to the Room of Requirement, Hermione loses Lavender in the fray of people and nearly barrels into Pansy Parkinson.

“Granger. Let’s have a chat, shall we?” The raven-haired witch links her arm through Hermione’s and tugs her away.

Shit.

Pansy pulls her toward a quieter area with couches, tugging her down to sit beside her. As much as Ginny and Harry don’t want to hang out with Draco, she hadn’t put much thought into spending time with Draco’s friends. Unfortunately for her, that means Pansy.

“What do you want, Pansy?” Hermione looks around the room, hoping to find Draco hidden in the throng of people walking by them.

“I’ve never liked you.”

Hermione sighs. “Yes, you’ve made that abundantly clear over the years.”

“Do you know why?”

“It’s not exactly something you’ve kept quiet about. My hair, my clothes, my family…”

Pansy waves her off. “Your hair and clothes can be changed and you have parents who love you. If anything, I was jealous of that. But no, that’s not the reason.”

“Does it have something to do with Draco?”

Pansy snaps her fingers and points at her. Hermione’s never seen the Slytherin drunk, but the way her eyes are glazed and her body sways, she must be far gone. She probably won’t even remember this conversation tomorrow.

“It irritated me how Draco was in love with you. I know, I know. I’m a cliché.” She rolls her eyes. “But here I was, rich, beautiful, Pureblood, and even though I was dating him, he was…indifferent toward me. Do you know who he wasn’t indifferent toward?”

Taking a (sarcastic) shot in the dark, Hermione answers, “Me?”

“You!” Pansy yells. “He hated you. At least, that’s what he said. He was a bloody liar. Everyone knows indifference is the opposite of love and obsession, and that’s how he treated me, not you. No…you…he hated. He would talk about you constantly, glare at you, find you in every room just to have an excuse to stare at you.” She shakes her head. “Guys only stare at a girl that much when they love her, hate her, or want to fuck her. And somehow, for Draco, you were all three.” She shrugs and finishes a glass of liquor on that table that Hermione is pretty sure wasn’t hers.

“I’m sorry, Pansy.”

“Why? You didn’t ask for Draco to love you. You didn’t ask for fame or to be brilliant,” she says, spitting the word. “I’m jealous of Hermione Granger.” Pansy snorts. “That’s the hardest pill to swallow of them all.”

Hermione blinks, the words sinking in. First Lavender admitting her jealousy, now Pansy freaking Parkinson!? Does Hermione have any sense of how other people see her?

She felt forgotten, shoved aside and left behind. She felt lonely and invisible, like no one remembered she was a war heroine. But after all this time she’s finally realising that wasn’t the case.

No one else forgot who she was. She forgot who she was. The constant reminder to herself became her armour, her reason for hiding, for spending all her time in the library. She lost her two best friends after risking her life for them over and over again.

She’s nearly as bad as Harry. She may not have pushed people away, but she certainly closed herself off.

Clearing her throat, she realises she’s been staring off into the distance. “Right, well… This has been…enlightening.” At that moment, Neville walks by. Knowing Pansy probably won’t remember this conversation tomorrow anyway, Hermione yells, “Neville!”

He stops and grins at her. “Hey, Hermione.”

“Neville, can you walk Pansy to her dorm? She’s…” Looking behind her, she finds Pansy slumped over the table passed out. “Or, I guess, carry her home?”

A blush spreads over his cheeks. “Yeah.” Hermione helps to get the witch out of the booth and into Neville’s arms.

Her eyes flutter open and go wide when she realises she’s being held in the air. “You’re really tall. How come I’ve never noticed how tall you are before, Longbottom?” She snorts. “Longbottom. Do you have a long bottom?” She hoists herself over his shoulder and reaches her arm around. “No, you have a nice bottom. Not long at all. Firm.” She pats his butt.

Hermione swallows her laughter. “Thanks, Neville.”

His cheeks are Gryffindor red the entire way out of the Room of Requirement.

“There you are.” Arms wrap around her from behind, a kiss placed on her cheek. “I’ve been looking for you.”

She spins in Draco’s arms and gazes up at him, her hands on his cheeks. “You found me.”

 ***

Whispering the password to the Fat Lady, Hermione slips through the opening with a grin, her boyfriend right behind her. She leads Draco to the foot of the stairs that lead to the girls dormitories.

“This is not at all how I imagined the Gryffidor common room,” Draco tells her.

“Oh no? Imagine it a lot, did you?”

He nods. “Oh, yeah. I thought there’d be a fireplace, a puffskein fur rug where I could spread you out and ravage you.”

“You think I’d let you ravage me in my common room in front of all my housemates?”

Draco shrugs. “I don’t know, Granger. You’re full of surprises this year.” She grins. “Mostly I assumed there’d be shrines of Potter everywhere.”

“So, in your fantasy, you were surrounded by pictures of Harry?”

“Don’t twist my words, witch.”

She throws her head back on a laugh. “Come on. I have to levitate you up the stairs.”

“You what?”

“There’s a spell on the steps. If you try to walk up them, they’ll turn into a slide to prevent you from getting into my room.”

“That’s real? I thought that was just a rumour Theo was starting.”

Of course, Theo would know all about the enchantment.

“So, levitation works? Have you brought a lot of boys up to your dorm, Granger?” he asks with a forced smirk, though there’s an underlying current of what Hermione has learned is jealousy in his tone.

She shakes her head. “I have no idea if it’ll work. I’ve never snuck a boy to my bed.”

His smirk becomes real. “Hermione Granger, I do believe I may be corrupting you.”

She nods. “And I think you enjoy every minute of it.” She kisses him before they successfully slink upstairs and disappear into her bed for one last night.

***

The dorm is still empty when they wake, with Hermione’s head on Draco’s chest and his arms around her as if he was afraid she’d slip away into the night.

“I have to go get my trunks. I’ll meet you on the platform.” With a kiss, Draco slips out of Hermione's room.

She tosses her pyjamas into her trunk and changes into denims and a sweater. On top of her suitcase, she has her Gryffindor robes she wore on the train at the beginning of the year. She runs her fingers over the crest, emotion flooding her veins.

This is really it.

She double checks that her nightstand, drawers, and chest are all empty, before ensuring each letter from the Ministry is safely stored in her trunk before closing and locking it.

Hesitating by her dorm room door, she stares at the space, taking in every nook and cranny, the view from the windows, the colour of her desk. A tear trails over her cheek and she wipes it away with her thumb.

She found herself inside these castle walls. For the first time, she finally fit in, she wasn’t weird, she had friends.

Merlin, is she going to miss it here.

With one final, silent goodbye to the tower she’s called home for seven years, Hermione disappears down the steps one last time.

She passes a few Gryffindor students in the common room as everyone starts heading for the platform.

A well of emotion builds inside her seeing the Hogwarts express one last time.

She told Draco she’d meet him here, but she follows the line of classmates onto the train. Instead of sitting in her usual cabin, she walks toward the back of the train, knowing this is where Draco always sat with his friends.

Several minutes later, he appears, hand on the open cabin door and a grin on his handsome face. “I was looking for you. Don’t you know these are the Slytherin cabins?”

She twists her lips “Doesn’t matter. We’re not them anymore. Slytherins or Gryffindors.”

“I don’t know.” He joins her on the bench, bumping her shoulder with his. “I think I’ll always be a bit of a Slytherin.”

She takes a heavy breath. “I think for once I want to be everything my house represents without the title or expectation of it, you know? I don’t want to be brave or courageous because I’m a Gryffindor, because it’s expected of me. I just want to be brave and courageous.”

“You can shed the house, love, but you’re still Hermione Granger. Everyone knows your name, knows who you are.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of. That’s a lot of expectation to live up to.”

Draco shakes his head. “You’ve never simply lived up to people’s expectations, Hermione. You’ll always find a way to surprise people.” He grabs her hand and leans in for a kiss.

She lays her palm against his cheek, revelling in the easy touch she’s grown so used to over the last couple of months. Somewhere along the way, kissing Draco Malfoy has become, not only natural to her, but a constant desire she’s often unwilling to stifle.

She sighs against his lips, her hand sinking into his silky hair. She’s half ready to climb into his lap if they keep this up, a whimper spilling from her mouth—

“Can we join you?” Ginny pops her head in the cabin with Theo right behind her. Pulling back from Draco, Hermione nods, and Ginny and Theo take the seats across from them.

Hermione blushes and looks down with a shy grin. Her last ride on the Hogwarts Express is nothing like her first ride all those years ago, but she wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Weaslette,” Draco says in greeting, distracting the other couple from Hermione’s slight embarrassment. “What are your plans after Hogwarts?”

“Oh, you haven’t heard?” She tosses her red hair over her shoulder. “I’m the new chaser for the Holyhead Harpies.”

“No shit?” Draco grins at her. “Congrats. That’s impressive.”

“I know.” Ginny smirks. What about you, ferret? Any grand plans?”

Rubbing his thumb over Hermione’s palm, he says, “Haven’t decided yet. I’m leaning toward an apprenticeship in Potions, but I’m keeping my options open.”

“Oh, me? I’m so glad you asked,” Theo announces to no one. “I’m going to be a HAB.”

“What?” Draco asks, deadpan. Hermione laughs at the boys.

Theo rolls his eyes. “It’s a sports term. Husbands and Boyfriends of players.” He throws an arm over Ginny’s shoulders and plants a kiss on her head. “I’m gonna follow my girl around the world.”

Hermione smiles. Even though it’s not what she expected, she knows this is the love Ginny deserves. She hopes one day Harry can be just as happy, and she’s just glad he’s on the path to finally getting there.

“Hermione, you never told me what job you’re taking.” Ginny turns to Theo and Draco. “She got offers from every department in the Ministry.”

Draco grins, eyes light, even as Hermione feels a rock of guilt slam into her for not talking about any of it with Draco.

“I’m not surprised,” he murmurs in her ear, pressing a gentle kiss to the sensitive skin there.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” she whispers back. Hermione sits up, all eyes on her in the cabin as she responds to Ginny. “Honestly? I haven’t decided yet.”

“What? But haven’t you made a list with all the pros and cons and—”

“The offers will be there later if I want them, but…” She looks at her friends before her gaze lands on Draco. “I actually got accepted into Oxford University.”

“That’s amazing, Hermione!” Ginny squeals, rushing across the cabin to throw her arms around Hermione in a hug.

She keeps her gaze on Draco and his small smile. “Congrats, Granger.”

“Only Hermione Granger would learn she’s a witch at eleven, go to boarding school, enter into a war, become a war heroine, graduate from Hogwarts, and still want to go back to school,” Theo says with a shake of his head. “I don’t know if I’m in awe of you or if you need your head examined.”

“You know, you’re the third person to say that to me and it kind of gave me an idea.” She bites her lip. “I think I want to become a mind healer. We all went through so much, and seeing everything that happened with Harry…” She winces and looks between Ginny and Theo, but the redhead wears a soft, understanding grin. “I want to help people.”

“I think that’s amazing, Hermione,” the younger girl says.

“Theo can be your first client,” Draco suggests.

“What’s wrong with me?” Theo asks

Ginny pats him on the thigh. “The trip home isn’t enough time to cover all of that.”

Hermione snickers. Theo pouts.

“So, a muggle university?” Ginny asks.

Hermione shrugs. “Well, actually… I reached out to St. Mungo’s about an internship program. I want to be able to help wizards and muggles. I’m going to complete my studies at Oxford and simultaneously intern at St. Mungo’s to get more experience.”

“I take it back. You definitely need your head examined,” Theo says.

“Well, soon enough I’ll be able to examine my own head,” she replies, sticking her tongue out at Theo.

“You’re incredible,” Draco whispers into her hair.

“You know, Wiltshire isn’t all that far from Oxford and I don’t want to be presumptuous but I’m sure I can find a place with a Floo and—”

“Granger.” The tone of Draco’s voice stops her rambling. “I’ll be wherever you are, as long as you’ll have me.”

She bites her lip, but her grin springs free. She opens her mouth to say the words that have been on the tip of her tongue for weeks now, but Theo interrupts her.

“So, that’s what you’ll do with your winnings then, yeah? Pay for university and a fancy new flat?”

Hermione gives him a deadpan look. “Is that really what you think I did with the money?”

“It’s what I would have done,” Theo says. “Well, not university, but definitely a fancy flat. One in every city the Harpies play in.”

“I guess you’ll just have to dip into your inheritance to buy them instead,” Hermione snarks. “No, I donated it.”

“Let me guess,” Ginny says. “To S.P.E.W.? Is it finally worldwide?”

“No, it’s probably the Hermione Granger Scholarship for—”

“No, probably to Werewolf Rights. I know you always had a crush on Lupin,” Draco jokes.

“I hate all of you,” Hermione says as she laughs. “Actually, I mailed a cheque to the Department of Magical Games and Sports because if Nerve taught me anything, it’s that students want to participate in something. We want connection and to cheer each other on, and outside of Quidditch, which is a team sport that not everyone can play, school can be isolating. I want to bring more sports and clubs and games to Hogwarts, and eventually all wizarding schools.”

“I think that’s a great idea,” Ginny says with a wink of encouragement.

Hermione grins. “Thanks, Gin. But actually…can you guys give us a minute?” She asks Ginny and Theo.

The former Slytherin scoffs with faux offense. “Kicking me out of my own seat?”

“Come on, let’s go shag in the loo,” Ginny offers with a wiggle of her brows.

“Bye!” Theo pulls Ginny from the compartment, the redhead giggling behind her boyfriend.

“I’ve always wanted to shag on the Hogwarts Express.” Draco arches a brow in a silent dare.

She takes a deep breath, gazing into his brilliant grey eyes. Being brave isn’t always about running headfirst into a war. It can be as simple as taking a leap, taking a chance or a risk, no matter how small and afraid you are, but doing it anyway.

“I love you,” she blurts the words out as if she couldn’t hold them in anymore. “I know you probably think it’s too soon and I’m sorry that I blurted it out like that—”

“Granger.”

“—I really wanted it to be special but I’ve been holding it in for weeks and I felt like I was going to explode if I held them in any longer. I love you, Draco, and you don’t need to say anything back—”

“Hermione.” He stops her rambling with a squeeze of his hand on her knee. When she looks up at him, his eyes are bright, his smile blinding. 

At his expression, she can’t help but feel the anxiety melt away, her own grin tugging at the corner of her lips.

Gently, Draco’s hand cups her cheek, his thumb dusting over her freckles. “I’ve been in love with you for years. I’ve just been waiting for you to catch up.”

Notes:

Obligatory apology for this being so late. I wanted to make sure it was perfect.

One more chapter to go :'( This ride has been so much fun and I'm already sad it's ending!

thank you thank you thank you again always to ann for betaing!!! <3