Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Twisted	By : BB_Rosie & ArielKidd Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 31731 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 6
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I don't make any money from this story. I own nothing.

Chapter List
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The corridors were quiet midday. Most students were in class, or in the library. That’s where Hermione was headed to spend her free period. One may label that as predictable, but she perceived it as part of her routine which she cherished greatly. Her routine and diligence attributed to the label of Brightest Witch of her Age, after all.
Ronald was in Care of Magical Creatures; Hermione had chosen not to take the subject that year. Harry had slept late, again; he’d been with Dumbledore all through the night. Thus, Hermione was alone in journey to the library. It mirrored how she felt at times that year. Harry and Ron shared all their classes together, shared their meals together, shared their Quidditch practices and games together. Hermione, on the other hand, spent most of her time alone in the library, study hall, and her more advanced classes. With guilt, she could admit to feeling … excluded from the trio for the first time since first year. It wasn’t anybody’s fault. It wasn’t Harry’s, who had a pile of problems to manage daily. It wasn’t Ron’s, who was as oblivious as a brick wall. It wasn’t hers, either; she simply wanted to succeed in her year at Hogwarts academically, and assist Harry whenever possible. But the individual focuses of each member of the trio undeniably caused separation and slight cracks.
Full disclosure – Hermione felt robbed. She and Ron had been blossoming over the years, together. Hermione had half expected a budding romance to occur between them. But they were months into the school year, and nothing had happened. He carried on with his chess and Quidditch, and she trudged on with her homework and helping Harry. The best way for her to cope with – or ignore – her woes about Ron was to lose herself in the library books. It was her escape – her nirvana. So that is where she went, even when she didn’t have to.
As she rounded the corner, a forgotten issue sprung to mind. Ahead in the corridor was Professor Snape and Draco Malfoy. They were having what looked like a heated discussion. They didn’t notice Hermione’s arrival; she stood there, uneasily, and observed their odd behaviour.
Snape had Malfoy against the wall by the collar of his robes. The Professor hissed silent words into the aristocrat’s face, but Malfoy didn’t look fazed. Malfoy merely muttered quiet words before he slowly turned to face Hermione. She tensed and panicked slightly, which showed in her startled eyes. Snape followed Malfoy’s gaze to Hermione and sneered at her.
Snape released Malfoy and stepped away, and they both stared her down. Hermione swallowed and clutched her books closer to her bosom. The iciness of their eyes stabbed into her like jagged daggers. She had intruded on something private, that much was obvious.
Confidently, Hermione ignored their hostility and walked down the corridor. She walked right by them without a glance. But they stared at her, and she could feel their eyes burning into her back as she disappeared down another corridor.
Before long, she arrived at the library and submerged herself in the deepest shelves of the oldest literature. Her favourite nook in the library was a quiet spot in the Ancient Runes section, with a window and a little desk pushed against it. She set up her station at the desk and took a few tomes from the shelves. She quickly became engrossed in her studies, and didn’t notice the Slytherin appear behind her twenty minutes later.
Blaise Zabini leaned against the shelf, crossed his ankles and folded his arms over his chest. He studied the back of the Gryffindor in silence for a while and she remained none the wiser. Eventually he cleared his throat to announce his presence.
Startled, Hermione whipped around in the chair to face him. She gaped at the pristine Slytherin before she composed herself and became wary.
“Zabini,” she greeted cautiously.
“Granger,” he said and inclined his head politely. But even when polite, he had an air of superiority about him. She wasn’t offended – he seemed to constantly be arrogant with everybody.
“Forgive me if I am speaking out of turn,” he said, and walked over to her at the desk. “But I have noticed that you are mostly alone, of late. Trouble in the Golden Trio Nirvana?”
He perched himself on the edge of the desk and folded his hands on his lap. His dark eyes appeared indifferent, but Hermione sensed a hidden intensity within them – like he was assessing her.
“I do,” said Hermione. He arched his brow and waited for her to continue. “Forgive you for speaking out of turn, that is.”
Zabini hummed in approval of her reservations. She even thought for a moment that he had almost smiled.
“Zabini, why are you talking to me?” asked Hermione, bluntly.
He raised his hands and looked around the nook of shelves. “We are both here, are we not? Would you rather I ignored your presence and pretended you didn’t exist?”
“That is what you’ve done for the past six years,” she said. There was no hurt in her voice – she merely stated the truth. “And now you speak to me as though we’re friends.”
“Friends,” he repeated with a smirk. “A slight exaggeration, Granger. Perhaps acquaintances would be a more appropriate term?”
“Perhaps,” she agreed. “It doesn’t appease my confusion.”
“Allow me to confess,” he said and brushed a stray lock of his hair back into place. “You are friends with Luna Lovegood – I am interested in Luna Lovegood resting on my bed. Thus, I will befriend you in hopes of securing her attention.”
Hermione frowned at him. Slytherins weren’t the type to freely announce their intentions to anyone – not even their own, and especially not Gryffindors. He didn’t fool her at all. His intentions were a lot shadier than that.
A silence passed them and they only stared at each other. They both knew she wasn’t convinced, but Zabini said nothing to rectify that. He only stared down at her and blinked slowly. She didn’t realise before how long his eyelashes were.
“Luna is a nice girl,” said Hermione sternly. She had to break the uncomfortable silence. “Stay away from her.”
“Am I not worthy?” asked Zabini, unfazed.
“I didn’t say that.”
“Then why must I keep my distance?” he asked.
“Because I don’t trust your intentions,” she admitted. “I don’t fancy Luna getting caught in whatever game it is you’re playing.”
He only smirked. Hermione stood from the chair and walked over to the shelves. She didn’t need another book, but the conversation was too uncomfortable for her. The pretence of searching for literary material gave her a slight reprieve.
After a few moments Zabini spoke, “Sometimes, one cannot control which webs they are dragged into. And rarely can they free themselves from such tangles, because they didn’t know they were drawn in until it’s too late.”
Hermione turned to face him and saw that he was staring at the aisle ahead. She followed his gaze and saw Malfoy standing there, staring coldly at her. His dark steely eyes stayed on her when he inclined his head. Zabini stood from the table and left. Malfoy and Hermione were alone.
She immediately slipped out her wand from her skirt pocket and watched Malfoy warily.
“Making friends with Slytherins,” said Malfoy coldly. “A risky move, mudblood.”
“Zabini and I are not friends,” she bit. “And neither are we, Malfoy.”
He didn’t claim otherwise, but the implication was clear: She didn’t appreciate his random appearances and chats with her. He was not welcome.
Suddenly, Malfoy was in front of her. He had approached so quickly, she barely realised until he was towering over her. She swiftly raised her wand, but he snatched her wrist, slammed it against the bookshelf and shoved her backwards. Her back ached as the ledges in the shelf pressed into her. He slowly pushed himself against her and trapped her between him and the shelf.
“Let go of me,” she seethed. “I don’t need my wand to hurt you, Malfoy. Did you forget the deserving slap you received in third year? Or are you so desperate to be hit again?”
He surprised her. He didn’t hex her or harm her. He smirked a cold smirk, filled with malice.
“This is not our third year, Granger, and I am not a boy anymore,” he whispered huskily. “Things are different now, and you know it. That fear in your eyes proves my point, Granger.” – His face lowered and came closer to hers. His smirked disappeared and his sinister eyes send a shiver down her spine. – “And it’s so very tempting.”
Hermione huffed as he stepped away. She couldn’t stop the trickles of fear falling down her spine. Luckily, he turned and left without another word. The second he did, Hermione exhaled shakily. He was right – he was not a boy anymore, and things were different. For the first time since she had come to Hogwarts almost six years ago, she was frightened of Malfoy. And it only scared her more that she didn’t know why.
The Gryffindor Common Room was empty except for the two students sleeping by the fireplace. Ronald Weasley snored obscenely on the armchair and Hermione napped on the couch. They had tried waiting up for Harry to return from his meeting with Dumbledore, but had fallen asleep sometime after midnight.
At an unknown hour, Hermione awoke to a scuffling sound. Her heavy eyelids opened and she rubbed her face tiredly. The scuffle noise continued. She sat up on the couch and looked around, but nobody else was there except Ronald and herself. The scuffle sound passed by her, and she realised what it was – footsteps.
Hermione jolted up from the couch and rounded on the location of the noise.
“Harry Potter, you stop right there,” she demanded sternly. The noise stopped immediately. “Take off the cloak.”
Harry sighed and pulled the invisibility cloak from his body. His form was revealed, and his uniform from the day was crumpled and dishevelled. His eyes were red and puffy and his spectacles sat crookedly on the bridge of his nose.
“When did you get back?” she asked. She snatched the cloak from his hands to confiscate it. He had far too much homework to do, and his meetings with Dumbledore were time-consuming. The last thing she wanted Harry to do was to run around the castle chasing conspiracies when he could be using his time efficiently.
“Just now,” he said sheepishly.
“And where were you going?” she asked. She glanced pointedly at the parchment in his hand – the Marauder’s Map. Harry looked at the Map and didn’t answer. “Harry, where were you going? Please don’t tell me you were going to look for Malfoy again.”
“Ok,” he shrugged. “I won’t.”
“Harry,” sighed Hermione. “You can’t keep doing this. You can’t keep wasting your time on that ferret. He’s –”
“I know,” he bit. He pulled unfolded the Map and showed it to her. “But look, Hermione.”
She exhaled wearily and took the Map from him. Harry tapped on the far left corner which showed the name ‘Draco Malfoy’ moving up the staircases. Close behind him was the ‘Blaise Zabini’.
“See?” Harry asked, as if he had just proven all of his conspiracies. He hadn’t. “What would Malfoy be doing roaming around the castle at three in the morning? Something dodgy.”
“Or,” she said, “he’s on patrol.”
“Maybe.”
“No, not maybe,” she argued. “He is on patrol. I checked the schedule this morning. I cannot say why Zabini is out after curfew, but I imagine he is only accompanying Malfoy on his patrol, Harry.”
Harry didn’t look convinced. He tried to snatch the Map and cloak from her, but she pulled back in time.
“I’ll hang onto these for now,” Hermione said. “You can have them back when you’ve caught up on all your homework. You still have to write your Potions essay and Herbology assignment, you haven’t even practiced Apparation yet, and when was the last time you read your Defence Against the Dark Arts textbook? You’re falling behind, Harry – This year is important. If you want to become an Auror, you have to work harder and not waste time on a vendetta you have.”
“No offence, Hermione,” he snapped, “but I might not even live through this war, and you’re telling me I need to study harder to become an Auror? You have no idea what –”
Hermione stepped closer to him and jabbed him on the chest. “Don’t you dare,” she hissed. “I might die, too, Harry. Everyone who fights in this war when it comes is in danger of dying. Even innocents will die. I have been with you every step of the way, and I want to see you defeat Voldemort – I am helping you do that to the best of my ability. But when you spend your time obsessing over an insignificant school-bully, it’s difficult to help you.”
Hermione sighed and Harry grumbled in annoyance.
“Go to bed,” she sighed. “You’re short on sleep and you need your rest. Tomorrow I’ll help you with your homework, and we’ll get you all caught up in no time.”
Harry nodded, but he was still furious. That much was obvious in his firmly set jaw and stiff demeanour. He pushed by her and disappeared up the stairs. Hermione woke Ron and sent him up to bed, too.
When she made it to her dormitory, she gave into temptation and unfolded the Map. She searched for Malfoy’s name on the staircase, but couldn’t find it. After a while, she realised that his name wasn’t on the Map at all. But Blaise Zabini’s was on the Map. He was alone on the seventh floor corridor, just standing there.
Hermione stared at his name for a while, but he didn’t move. Eventually, sleep became too demanding and she put the Map away before she fell asleep to dreams about Malfoy … Horrible dreams.
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