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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In the Great Hall for breakfast, Hermione sat alone at the farthest end of the Gryffindor table. Sunday mornings in the Great Hall tended to be quiet, and it wasn’t different that particular Sunday. Harry and Ron hadn’t even appeared yet — Hermione suspected they were sleeping in, or had gone to spy on the Slytherin Quidditch Practice. It wasn’t her concern, anyway.
It was the day after the Slugclub dinner party, and Hermione intended to avoid many people. She would avoid Harry, because he pestered her to have his cloak and Map returned to him; Malfoy, because he assaulted her in the corridor and she wanted to stay far away from him; Zabini, because he was ill-mannered towards her at the party; Ron, because he was snogging ‘Lav’ in the Common Room when she returned; and Luna, because she allowed Zabini’s attitude, and didn’t intervene when she found Hermione pressed against the wall by Malfoy.
Lazily, she stirred her bowl of porridge and rested her chin on her palm. The drama from the night before replayed in her mind over and over again. Malfoy was certainly different that year, and she had known that for a few weeks. But finally, Harry’s suspicions about him had begun to make sense. Hermione realised she may have to confess to Harry about what Malfoy had been doing and saying to her. He would freak out but she didn’t think she had any other option at that point. It was getting out of hand.
Hermione decided that she wasn’t hungry. She pushed her porridge away and left the Great Hall. In the atrium, she saw Luna coming down the stairs. She wasn’t as lively and bright as she usually was — Hermione noticed that straightaway. In fact, Luna looked tired. Her blue eyes were blood-shot and puffy and her mannerism was defeated. If Hermione didn’t know any better, she would think Luna was hungover.
Anger brewed within her immediately. Hermione balled her hands into fists and stormed up the stairs to meet Luna. All plans of ignoring her went out the window the moment she felt the anger.
“Hermione —” Luna began, ashamedly.
“Don’t,” interrupted Hermione sharply. “I don’t want your useless apologies or excuses. I just want to tell you that I thought better of you than that. I’m disgusted by your actions — You saw that I was cornered by Malfoy … You stood there and watched while he —”
“I know,” whispered Luna. “I don’t know what happened, Hermione. I was there … but I wasn’t.”
Hermione snorted rudely. “When are you ever really there?” She was angry… furious. It was rude of her to say, but she didn’t care. The injustice was too great.
“I know what people think of me,” said Luna sadly. “I know what you think of me. But I want you to know that I tried to help you, I just … couldn’t.”
“Are your priorities really that distorted?” she spat. “Are you so obsessed with Zabini’s approval that you’d let Malfoy do whatever he wants to me and not help me?”
Luna looked down at her hands guiltily. “I don’t know how to make you understand. My mind was so cloudy and strange. It was like Wrackspurts were nearby, but they weren’t.”
“What are you talking about?” snapped Hermione crossly. “You can’t blame this on your imaginary creatures, Luna. You watched me get assaulted! And you did nothing!”
“I ...” sighed Luna. She met Hermione’s livid eyes and explained, “Yesterday, before the dinner, I was in Hogsmeade by myself. I went to look at the Shrieking Shack for a while… I always go there. It’s nice. A good place to think and feel free, don’t you think? It helps me relax, and the shack is really quite lovely —”
“Do you have a point?” barked Hermione.
Luna nodded and licked her lips. “Zabini turned up and he gave me a bottle of butterbeer and we talked. We talked for a few minutes, not long. He asked me to the dinner and I said yes…”
Hermione looked at her incredulously. “I’m failing to see the strange part, other than you moseying about with a Slytherin.”
Then she realised — Luna said ‘Zabini’, not ‘Blaise’.
Before she could inquire, Luna said thoughtfully, “That is the strange part. I don’t know why I said yes … That’s when it went cloudy in my mind. I just wanted to be near him.”
Hermione stared at her blankly. It all pieced together in her mind.
Luna continued, “When I woke up, I felt odd … I still feel odd. My brain is thumping and my stomach is twisting… But worse than that, I feel sick that I watched you and couldn’t help.”
Hermione stood there for a moment in thought. She had several theories springing to mind, but one took the cauldron cake.
Suddenly, Hermione took off at a sprint up the stairs and left Luna standing there awkwardly. She ran back to the Common Room and into her dormitory. There, she removed the Marauder’s Map from her nightstand and unfolded it. Once she found Zabini’s name down in the Dungeons, she stuffed it into her pocket and went there.
In front of the Slytherin Common Room, she banged on the stone wall and shouted Zabini’s name. There was no portrait for her to speak to and demand entrance from as a Prefect. There was a stone wall entrance, and that’s all. Soon into her violent knocking, her knuckles began to bruise and ache.
The stones disappeared and outstepped Blaise Zabini, looking at her curiously. He was amused, but intrigued mostly.
“Granger,” he greeted and stepped into the corridor. The stone wall shut behind him.
Hermione’s lip curled. “What did you do?”
“Excuse me?” he smirked and leaned against the wall casually. “You’ll have to be more specific, Granger. I get up to all sorts of mischief — It’s in my nature, as you know.”
“Luna,” she spat, stepping closer to him. “What did you do to her?”
“Ah,” he grinned. “Notice that, did you?”
“Don’t play games with me, Zabini,” she all but growled. “I will report you if you don’t tell me what you did right now.”
“It’s not too difficult to figure out,” he chuckled. “Not if you really think about all the signs.”
Hermione went white. Her theory was correct. “You imperiused her.”
Zabini laughed. “No, Granger. That would be illegal.”
“You only just admitted, seconds ago, to getting up to all sorts of mischief,” she argued.
“Mischief, yes,” he agreed. “Criminal offences? Not quite. What I did was perfectly legal … but prohibited within the walls of the castle.”
Hermione thought for a moment and said, “A love potion.”
“Ten points to Gryffindor,” he grinned devilishly. “Although, I must confess — I didn’t think anybody would detect oddities in her behaviour. She is, after all, a dreamy and dazed girl without the potion…”
Hermione seethed, “You freely admit to drugging a student, Zabini, and all you have to say is you didn’t think anyone would notice?”
“Oh, please,” he dismissed. He lazily flicked his hand. “I did not take advantage of her. I stole no kisses from her lips, and took no touches from her body. I stole only her attention and time.”
Hermione inhaled through her flaring nostrils and tried to calm the wave of wrathful fury within her. His nonchalance was infuriating — He drugged Luna and acted as though it was nothing.
“It is not against the law to administer someone a love potion,” he smirked wickedly. “All you can do is refer my misconduct to a teacher, and I may receive a detention or lose House points — only because it is against school policy to bring it into the castle or use it. That’s all you can do, Granger — You’ll need a lot more than that to bring me down.”
He was right; they both knew it. He would certainly receive a detention — Hermione would make sure of it — but it was a perfectly legal substance sold in Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley. She made a mental note to fight against the potion when she made it into the Ministry of Magic in her future career.
“Why did you do it?” she asked suspiciously.
“I wanted to,” he shrugged. “I showed her a glimpse into the courtship I can offer her.”
She scoffed. “You couldn’t ask her on a date like a sane, functioning person?”
“Ask her?” laughed Zabini. “And be rejected? I think not, Granger.”
“With all those secret meetings and liaisons you’ve had with her, I’m sure she would’ve at least considered it,” argued Hermione. “But now, when I tell her what you did, she’ll never look at you again.”
Zabini looked confused for a moment. And then he chuckled, practically giddy with glee. “Ah, that potion worked wonders. I highly recommend it.”
“Pardon?”
“Luna and I have had no such interactions,” he explained proudly. “The first time she ever spoke to me was yesterday at the Shrieking Shack. Even when I’d greet her in the corridors, she only smiled at me. At first, I welcomed those dreamy smiles, but I quickly wanted more, so took more from her.”
“Against her will,” snarled Hermione.
“Minor details,” he dismissed. “Now Lovegood will see the gentleman I am, and will entertain my advances in future.”
“Over my dead body,” she promised. “And when she learns of what you’ve —”
He interrupted, “That I cannot allow. Did you really think I would divulge everything to you and let you run back to her and spill my secrets?”
Instantly, Hermione whipped out her wand and pressed the tip against his chin. He only laughed.
“Try it,” dared Hermione.
“I already have,” whispered Zabini coldly.
His charming façade disappeared completely and she felt like she was staring into the eyes of a Malfoy double. A shiver ran down her and she saw what Zabini really was… He was a monster just like Malfoy.
Coldly, he whispered, “Don’t be so foolish to think that Luna is the only prey in this castle, Granger. And I’m not the only Slytherin on the hunt— The only difference is, is that I prefer my prey willing.”
Slowly, his eyes looked over her shoulder and she, too, turned to follow his line of sight.
Draco Malfoy stood in the corridor behind them in his dirty Quidditch gear. His wand was aimed right at Hermione’s head and his icy eyes were filled with malice. How long had he been standing there?
A cold smirk was all she saw before he said loud and clear, “Obliviate.”
Books and tomes were piled around her on the desk. Brown curls bounced above the mountain of literature as Hermione Granger switched book after book. She had been there, in the library, the entire evening. For a few days, Hermione sensed that something wasn’t right. She had lost chunks of her time in memories and had randomly found herself alone in the Slytherin dungeons last Sunday. She didn’t know why she was down there – she didn’t even remember going to the dungeons. The whole night of Slughorn’s dinner party was a blur and she couldn’t account for her actions once she left. All she knew was that something was wrong…
Hermione never forgot herself – therefore, she never forgot her memories. At the dinner party, she hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol, nor anytime afterwards. In fact, she wouldn’t even had realised her memories were gone if Luna hadn’t brought the dinner party up. Apparently, she and Luna had argued Sunday morning, but Hermione didn’t understand why.
Luna had explained to the best of her ability – According to her, Malfoy had pushed Hermione against the wall and had tried to kiss her, which was utterly bizarre and ludicrous. Malfoy wouldn’t want to touch a ‘mudblood’ with his wand, let alone his lips. So she dismissed Luna’s account of their argument and decided to get to the bottom of it herself. Hence her urgent business in the library.
Hours she had been there … Hours upon hours of researching book after book. She searched through medical tomes – perhaps she had fallen and gotten a concussion; she fingered through dark arts literature – perhaps she had touched a cursed object at the dinner party; she rifled her way through a stack of magazines in search for any article that could explain her symptoms. It was a long shot, she knew, but she had to look everywhere.
It was frustrating, and an awful way to spend a Friday night. Hermione could better spend her time on homework and helping Harry – the friend that was gone with Dumbledore most of the time, and still showed signs of anger towards her. She did, after all, still have his cloak and Map. And by the pile of unfinished homework in his schoolbag, she didn’t plan on returning the items any time soon.
The sun set outside, and the library light dimmed – the candles were all that lit the room when the night came. She was about to admit defeat, but forced herself to read one final tome. She grabbed one from the pile at random and flicked through it lazily. She had no expectations of finding her answers in the pages before her, but she gave it a half-hearted shot anyway.
Her eyes widened suddenly and she gaped.
‘How could I have been so stupid?’ she muttered huffily to herself. ‘Honestly, Hermione – Brightest Witch, my backside.’ — Even when speaking to herself, she was reluctant to say ‘arse’. That was more of a Ron-type word than one she would use.
On the pages in front of her was an in depth description of charms she knew all too well: Memory Charms.
Hermione scanned the subtitles and the symptoms of each type of memory charm until she found it – ‘Obliviate’. The symptoms included an inability to recall past events, broken memories, a headache when attempting to remember, random spurts of nausea and, rarely, a bloody nose forty-eight hours after the spell was cast. She had experienced the headaches and nausea, but not the bloody nose. It was enough for her to know what she had been assaulted with, though. Her mind had been tampered with.
That said, she knew that most Obliviate spells were undetectable by the recipient. Most of the time, the recipient of the charm would believe they were doing a specific and favourite hobby at the time of the blank memories. For instance, if the spell was properly cast, she would simply think she’d been in the library in the times she couldn’t remember.
Whoever had cast the charm on her either wanted her to know she’d been obliviated, or was inept at producing a strong spell.
The last thing she’d remembered from the broken memories was wandering the corridors of the Slytherin dungeons aimlessly. No doubt, the culprit was a Slytherin. Luna had claimed they’d argued about Malfoy … Perhaps she had gone to confront him? And he had obliviated her …
The motive was still unclear, but she had no intention of letting the matter go. She would get to the bottom of the incident, and would expose Malfoy’s intentions. But one thing had to be seen to first – she needed to tell Harry what had been going on with Malfoy. That way, she could enlist his help … And she might just be starting to believe that there was some truth to Harry’s conspiracy theories.
Hermione’s blood boiled with furious injustice. Lavender practically straddled Ron on the armchair and ate his face off. Hermione narrowed her eyes disapprovingly at the spectacle. The Gryffindor Common Room was not a place for PDA as far as she was concerned. At least the other hormone-ridden students had the decency to hide in shadowed corners, or leave to snog in random parts of the tower. But, noooo; Ron just had to throw it in her face. The boy lacked tact, and she could admit that it was one of the few things she disliked about him.
“Hermione,” said Harry softly. He followed her eyes to the canoodling couple. “Ignore them.”
She blinked out of her daze and looked at Harry. “What – Oh, them? I don’t care about that…” Harry looked at her disbelievingly. “I was lost in thought about Malfoy.”
The mention of his arch-nemesis perked him up and he scooted closer to her on the couch.
“What’s he done?” whispered Harry intently.
“It’s not what he’s done, but what he’s doing.” An incredulous and questioning expression swept over his face. She explained, “Promise me, Harry, promise me you won’t fly off the handle.”
“What’s he doing, Hermione?” asked Harry severely.
“Well,” she exhaled, “where do I begin?”
“At the start,” he said.
Hermione looked down at her clasped hands and reiterated everything Malfoy had done – minus the rumoured kiss – and his constant, intimidating stares her way. Of late, he had been watching her in Study Hall, the Great Hall, Arithmancy, Astronomy, Ancient Runes, Potions… and so on. She told Harry everything, every encounter, every word, every watchful stare, the time she saw him disappear on the Map, and even about Zabini’s sudden interest in her and Luna. When she was done, Harry looked into the fireplace pensively and chewed the inside of his cheek.
Hermione watched him mull over the information overload she waffled at him. After a while she took out the Map from her schoolbag and gave it to him.
“That’s why I’ve decided to give this back to you,” she said quietly. “And the cloak.”
Harry took the Map as she pulled the cloak out of her bag, too. By the time she placed the cloak between them on the couch, Harry was already searching the Map for Malfoy.
“Say something, Harry,” pleaded Hermione desperately. She couldn’t stand the thought of him being disappointed in her – not for Malfoy’s actions, but for her keeping it from him for so long.
Harry stayed quiet and tapped his fingertip on the Map. “It’s always the same,” he said, as if to himself. “Blaise Zabini on the seventh floor – Never Malfoy. You said you saw that too, right?”
“Yes.”
“But every time I see their names go up to the seventh floor, Malfoy’s vanishes and Zabini’s stays in the corridor.”
Harry was worrying her. He hadn’t said anything about her lies or mistruths. His mind was churning, his pensive eyes said.
“They’re up to something,” he said, speaking what they both already knew. “I think he’s acting on Voldemort’s orders – I know you don’t think he’s old enough to be a Death Eater, Hermi—”
“That’s what I thought,” she interrupted. Looking down at her hands, she sighed. “But now… Now, I don’t know what to think.”
“You believe me, then?”
“I believe …” she paused and thought. “I believe that he’s up to no good, and I believe he’s dangerous. Whether he is a Death Eater or not, I don’t know.”
“Then let’s find out,” said Harry.
Hermione looked at him curiously and he stared back at her with guarded green eyes. She licked her lips and nodded.
“Hermione,” he said quietly, and scooted closer to her again. “This stays between us, ok?” She nodded and they both glanced at Ron, who had his tongue tied around Lavender’s. “Not even Ron can find out.”
“Find out what?”
“Malfoy’s interested in you in some way,” he said. “I don’t know why or what for… But he’s got his guard down more with you than he does with me or Ron… We can use that.”
“Use me, you mean,” she said.
Harry guilty licked his lips. “We can use his interest in you,” he corrected.
“What do you want me to do?”
The look in his eyes told her before he could answer – it was nothing she’d like.
Potions class was a much more pleasant lesson than when Professor Snape taught the subject. Professor Slughorn babbled on a bit, but Hermione kept up and was determined to maintain her position at the top of the class. Harry frequently turned around in his seat – directly in front of her – and gave her a meaningful stare. She ignored him after the first six times. He was making it too obvious. Malfoy had already noticed the exchange, he watched her from the other side of the classroom. His icy stare burned into the side of her face.
When Slughorn dismissed the class, Hermione took her time packing her things up. By the time she swung her bag over her shoulder, the classroom was empty of students – but she suspected Malfoy was slinking in the corridors, waiting for her. As was Harry, under the cloak.
Hermione stalled further by going over an essay question with Slughorn. He explained it, and it was nothing she didn’t already know. When she left the classroom, five minutes after dismissal, the corridor was empty.
Hermione adjusted her bagstrap and slowly walked down the corridor. She tried to keep her face as calm as possible, but it was difficult – knowing someone was about to jump out of a shadow was unnerving. When she reached the second corridor and turned onto it, Malfoy stepped out of an alcove and blocked her path.
Towering over her, Malfoy cruelly stared down at her with those pitiless eyes that seemed to empty, yet so full of poison. The grey swirled with dangerous intent, she swallowed and stepped back.
“What do you want, Malfoy?” she asked, and even as she heard the question spit from her tongue, she realised that she was tired of asking the same old questions on repeat. Like that broken CD player she had in her bedroom at home, always skipping and ruining her favourite songs, playing the same line over and over again.
Malfoy’s lips parted, still forming a whisper of a sneer, and he went to reply. She held her hand up to stop him and said, “You know what?” she asked exasperatedly. “I don’t care.”
Hermione shoved by him, slamming her shoulder into his. Before she could take her next step, she gasped as she was slammed, hard, against the wall. Only this time, it was chest-first. Her face was turned to the side against the cool, rough stone and she winced from the impact against her tender breasts. Malfoy’s hand held her head in place and he came up behind her, slowly, and pressed his body against hers.
Her curls moved and his lips brushed against the shell of her ear. He whispered, “Do you what trumps courageous, foolish lions?”
His silky whisper was so quiet that she almost didn’t hear it over her own loud breaths. He chuckled darkly and answered his own question, “Poisonous snakes.”
Hermione didn’t reply, her voice had caught in her throat. Her position prevented her from removing her wand from her skirt pocket, and his body trapped her against the wall. Worse was that she was afraid to move – a long, hard bulge was firmly against the small of her back, and she knew what it was.
“What, no words of bravery to chew out?” he mocked darkly, barely a whisper. “Or are you only brave when you’re flanked by your bodyguards?”
Her courage didn’t return, but her anger did. She spat, “I remember a time when that was you – never without your Crabbe and Goyle pets to save you from whatever trouble you got yourself into. Is it just daddy who does that now, Malfoy? Or Volde-”
He hissed – literally hissed – warningly against her ear. The hairs on the back of her neck rose and shudder ran down her spine.
“Says the mudblood who brought the invisible, invincible Potter with her,” he purred cruelly.
Hermione’s eyes widened, and her heart thudded loudly – she was sure he could hear it.
“Potter,” spat Malfoy, and he stepped away from Hermione. She whipped around and fumbled for her wand, pointing it straight at him. But Malfoy was staring down the corridor at nothing – or what appeared to be nothing. “You might want to be a little more careful with your mudblood – as filthy as she is, a pretty thing like that will be devoured in these corridors … so many snakes slithering around, you see.”
Hermione’s wand shook in her trembling hand. Harry appeared at the bottom of the corridor, whipping the cloak from his body, wand pointed at Malfoy.
“And,” smirked Malfoy, “where there is one snake, there are more.”
Just like that, two Slytherins stepped into the corridor. Zabini and Nott emerged from shadowy alcoves and removed glamour charms from their bodies. They both had their wands fixed on Harry. Malfoy, so slowly, turned to face Hermione and he smirked with such cruelty she instinctively stepped back into the wall.
“Until next time,” he sneered, his handsome face contorted by the change in expression.
Malfoy turned and strolled down the corridor, Nott and Zabini followed him – Zabini winked at Hermione on his way, but Nott didn’t spare her a glance. When they’d disappeared down another corridor, Harry ran over to Hermione and checked her lightly scraped face for any sign of injury.
“Are you all right?” he asked worriedly. She swatted his hand away and smiled proudly. “You got it,” Harry said, dumbfounded. “I thought –”
“Never underestimate a Gryffindor,” smiled Hermione, and she pulled an object out of her pocket. She handed it to Harry and relief swept over his face. He fixed the glasses perched on the end of his nose and beamed brightly at Hermione.
“You amaze me,” he said. “Do I tell you that? How amazing you are.”
“Not enough,” she laughed. “I think I need to hear it daily after that.”
Harry grinned lopsidedly and stuffed the object into his pocket. He and Hermione left the corridor, both with unmistakably gleeful grins.
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