The Bracelet, Chapter 27
Title: The Bracelet
Author: AkashaTheKitty
Characters: Blaise Zabini, Draco Malfoy, Ginny Weasley, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Pansy Parkinson, Ron Weasley, Theodore Nott (whew)
Genres: Drama, Friendship, Hogwarts Years, Humor, Romance
Warnings: HBP Spoilers, although slightly incompatible.
Overall Rating: R
Summary: Hermione has everything she could possibly want... Except a life. People are getting sick of her superior attitude, especially Draco Malfoy, who schemes to get her down, once and for all. And then there's the thing with The Bracelet... 7th year AU.
Go here if you didn't read previous chapters.
The game was surreal.
Hermione was trapped in a dreamlike state, unable to process anything happening as actually happening to her. This was a nightmare that she would be sure to wake up from soon. Any minute now, she would open her eyes and be back in her bed. It wasn’t her wearing the Slytherin scarf to the Gryffindor stands. It wasn’t her people hissed at. It wasn’t she, who was cheering when the Slytherin team entered the pitch, earning a reproachful look from Professor McGonagall herself.
It certainly wasn’t she who cried out encouragement as one of the Slytherin Chasers sent the Quaffle straight for the hoops just above her. It wasn’t her voice Ron recognized, distracting him so he turned and stared down at her instead of blocking the hoop, leaving the Quaffle a clear path to fly right past him.
Slytherin ten points, Gryffindor nil.
Hermione was mortified. Or she would have been, if she could just shake this feeling that this wasn’t real.
Draco was hovering close and was grinning at Ron’s clear confusion, but not for long; he still had a job to perform, a Snitch to catch.
This was the last thing Hermione could clearly remember afterwards.
She was going through the motions, but somehow she wasn’t there. It was a mercy, really, to not hear, see or feel her housemates reacting to her changed allegiance. It was an even greater mercy to not register her friends’ reactions. She didn’t know if Harry and Ginny had even noticed her, but she assumed they had. She was a speck of green and silver in a sea of red and gold. She also absent-mindedly registered that Gryffindor scored many more goals than Slytherin, Ron having taken up his position as a Keeper with a vengeance, nearly perfectly blocking the hoops.
Suddenly the game was over and the fog lifted a bit.
She had no idea who had won. Both Draco and Harry had suddenly spotted something and had started diving for it. There had been a roar from the audience. She had called out the name that she didn’t really want to root for. And then… the two of them had hit the ground; Harry first, Draco toppling on top of him. They had been still for a few seconds and then Draco rolled to the side. They were panting heavily and were, for the most part, unmoving.
It had gone dark a while ago, but the pitch itself was somewhat lit, making it possible to identify the two, currently grounded, Seekers. Neither, however, showed any sign of having caught the Snitch and there were some confused mutterings from the spectators.
Then Harry slowly got up to his hands and knees, while Draco remained unmoving. The teams were hovering anxiously above them, while the audience had gone perfectly still. Madam Hooch had by now reached them both and was apparently making inquiries to their general health and the Snitch. Harry showed his hands to be empty, causing the Gryffindors and most non-Slytherins to groan in disappointment. On the ground a grin was spreading on Draco’s face as he lifted his arm and showed the small golden ball, firmly caught in his hand.
The Slytherins cheered wildly and Hermione was forced to join them in doing so, as the score was announced. Slytherin had won with a score of 180 to 100 - the Gryffindors had put up a valiant fight, but for the first time since Harry’s first year as a Seeker, they had lost to their Slytherin counterparts.
Hermione was confused, though. Harry had hit the ground first, so he must clearly have reached the Snitch first. Why hadn’t he been the one to catch it? She didn’t understand, but she didn’t have time to analyze this turn of events. The Slytherin team had won and she had to get out of there before she was made a scapegoat by some of the less forgiving people in her House. Nobody would openly hex the Head Girl, not here in front of the teachers, but she needed to go find a peaceful place to hide until she could be fairly sure that everyone had gone to bed.
If she didn’t, then she was fairly sure she’d receive some heavy emotional, if not physical, scarring.
She ducked under the stands and made a mad dash back to the castle, grateful that the dark was shielding her.
“You ran away.”
Hermione huddled more into herself under the tree where she was currently sitting. She had quickly decided that there would be no safe place within the castle, so she had found this place near the lake. Nobody would willingly be spending time out here in November, especially not on the night after a big game.
“Does the ring tell you where I am, too?” she tonelessly asked, not even looking up at the boy who had spoken.
“As a matter of fact, it does,” Draco replied.
“Of course it does,” she mumbled.
“I could have summoned you,” he pointed out.
She didn’t reply. She didn’t look up, either. She just stared out across the lake, numbly wondering when she might be able to sneak back to her room and when she might be able to safely leave it again.
“I notice that you aren’t with your friends,” he remarked. “Interesting development.”
“I don’t think they’d want to see me right now,” she quietly replied. “So I’m staying away. Unless, of course, you’re going to force me to go see them.”
He looked genuinely puzzled at this. “Why would I do that?” he asked. “This suits me just fine.”
She didn’t respond. She didn’t even move a muscle. All he could feel from her, apart from the fact that she was freezing, was a dull emptiness that was slightly alarming.
“Aren’t you going to congratulate me?” he asked after a few minutes of her ignoring him.
“Congratulations,” she muttered.
“Thank you,” he said.
There were a few more moments of silence.
“How did you do it?” she then asked. “Harry was first. He was closer. How did you manage to get the Snitch? Please tell me that you didn’t use me to distract him!” She couldn’t bear it if he had.
“I was better,” he sharply said. “I caught the Snitch, simply because I was better than him.”
Hermione didn’t believe that for one second. “If you say so.”
She knew she had just annoyed him, but what would he do about it? What could he possibly do that was worse than what he had already done today?
Knowing him, he could probably think of several things.
She didn’t really care. She just wanted everything to go away, especially him.
“Well, come on, then,” he finally said.
She looked up at him. “I’d rather not.”
“I didn’t ask you,” he coolly replied.
“Can’t you just go celebrate and leave me be for once?” she quietly asked. “I did what you told me to. They all hate me now. Can’t I just get a few hours of peace?”
“So you can what?” he harshly asked. “Sulk? Freeze to death? Drown yourself in the lake?”
The emptiness rolling from her was seriously leading him to believe that she might do something foolish. It hadn’t even been that bad; people hadn’t really jostled her or anything. He’d been able to keep an eye on her from the air, and it seemed that her housemates had been grumpy but hardly hateful.
“The bet is only half over, so I can’t tolerate any of that,” he added for good measure.
Hermione sighed and got to her feet. “I wouldn’t do that,” she muttered. “I’m not a quitter.”
“I might believe that if you actually stopped acting like one,” he said, ignoring her glare. “Running away, hiding. What good is that going to do anyone?”
“Excuse me if I don’t want to be hexed by both of our houses,” Hermione scathingly retorted. “It’s called self-preservation. You of all people should be familiar with that.”
“Running away makes you look guilty, though, doesn’t it?” he insisted.
“Why do you care?”
“I don’t really,” he said. “It’s working pretty well for me, isn’t it? But this depression of yours is annoying me.”
She gaped at him before she sputtered, “If me being depressed annoys you, then maybe you shouldn’t strive to depress me!”
“I don’t strive to depress you,” he matter-of-factly said. “I strive to humiliate you and ruin your good name.”
“How is that not the same?”
“Because I don’t care how you feel about it,” he irritably snapped at her. “Just stop sulking and stop procrastinating and bloody well come along!”
“Yes, master,” she dully said.
“If you think talking back to me will help any, then you’re sadly mistaken,” he growled as he grabbed her wrist and pulled her, stumbling, along after him.
He took her to the Slytherin common room. She wasn’t surprised. What better place to make her suffer than at the Slytherin after-game celebrations? He was, of course, greeted like a hero and led to a comfortable chair in the middle of the room. Hermione was being conspicuously ignored. She assumed it was because she had so clearly entered with Malfoy. It was ironic how his presence was all that protected her from them. She stood next to the chair, knowing that she probably wasn’t allowed to just slink off to a corner.
“Here,” Draco said, thrusting a glass of a golden liquid at her. “Stop looking like you expect us to attack you. Why would we? You cheered for Slytherin, didn’t you?”
He was looking far too smug for Hermione’s liking and she flushed a bright red with anger. How dare he act as if she had had any choice in the matter when she had begged him to let her off the hook?
“I don’t drink,” she tartly said, putting the glass down.
His eyes darkened with anger, but he didn’t respond.
“Where’s Theo?” he instead asked Blaise who had just made his way through the throng to greet his friend.
“I think he’s either in his room or at that office of his,” Blaise replied. “You know he doesn’t care much for Quidditch.”
Hermione noticed the brief look of disappointment on Draco’s face, before he managed to hide it. Apparently, he’d been counting on Nott to be there to congratulate him on his victory.
“His loss,” was, however, his only response.
“I’m sure he’ll find you once things quiet down a bit,” Blaise said in what Hermione thought must be a soothing voice.
Draco shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.” His eyes fell on Hermione as Blaise made his way across the room to talk to someone else. “Why are you just standing there?” he asked. “Find a place to sit down. Don’t go too far, mind.”
Hermione looked around the room for an available seat. There didn’t seem to be any. She froze as her eyes met the icy blue glare of Pansy Parkinson, who obviously didn’t appreciate her presence. She realized that Draco hadn’t even acknowledged Pansy yet and that she was getting the wrong idea.
“Um…” she hesitantly said, not sure if she should meddle in this.
“What is it, Granger?” Draco asked with a weary sigh. “You prefer to stand now? Honestly, sometimes I think you just love making this harder on yourself than it has to be.”
“No, nothing like that at all,” she rushed to assure him. “Although, there don’t seem to be any seats left. I was just wondering…”
He raised his eyebrows expectantly as her voice trailed off. “Get on with it, then,” he snapped when she didn’t know how to proceed.
She lowered her voice. “Don’t you think you should pay some attention to your girlfriend?” she asked.
That appeared to be the exact wrong thing to say. Again, his eyes darkened and his features turned into a scowl. “Not you, too!” he growled. “It’s none of your business! And she didn’t come over here, either, did she?”
Hermione glanced back at Pansy whose glare had not lost any of its intensity. Draco followed her look and then grinned.
“Oh, I see,” he said, sounding very amused. “It’s your own hide you’re worried about, then? I do suppose she might want to discourage you from any, ah, ideas you might have.”
“What ideas?” Hermione asked, bewildered. “She knows what’s going on.”
“True, but she’s still jealous of you wearing that bracelet. I wonder what she might do to you…”
Hermione’s eyes widened a fraction. “Do to me?” she squeaked. “Why would she have any occasion to do anything to me?”
Suddenly, Draco’s arm whipped out and grabbed her around the waist, toppling her across his lap, to everyone’s great mirth. Everyone’s but Pansy’s, of course. She looked murderous.
Hermione struggled up to a sitting position and then tried to get off him, but was firmly held in place.
“Think she might do something to you now?” he coolly asked.
“If she had any sense she’d dump you,” she sneered back. “Let me go! I’m sure you’re in violation of our contract.”
“Be quiet,” he said. “You have a place to sit now, don’t you? And exactly which point would I be violating? I’m not doing anything, really.” He looked entirely too pleased with himself.
Hermione’s eyes widened. “What is this?” she groaned. “What did I do to deserve this?” She was very aware of all of the stares she was receiving.
She hadn’t thought that this day could get any worse, but it just had.
He sighed and lowered his voice to be sure that nobody else heard. “If you’ll just be quiet and sit still, it won’t be a big deal. They already believe worse of you, remember?”
“Then why are you doing this?” she whispered.
“Because both you and Pansy are annoying me,” he calmly stated. “I’m getting tired of her sulking and unfounded jealousy and your attitude and inability to shut up. This seems quite the easiest way to get both of you at once.”
“Why would you want to be seen with a… a Mudblood on your lap?” she asked, squirming a bit to get to the very edge of his knee.
“Why not?” he haughtily returned. “I don’t think you realize just how unpopular I am with that set, anyway. So, who cares if they think my purity has been tainted? Your discomfort is worth it.”
“Gee, I’m flattered,” she grumbled.
He leaned over and grabbed the drink she had discarded before and thrust it at her again. “Now, drink this!” he hissed. “I want you to relax, before you give it all away. We can’t have my sacrifice being all for nothing, can we?”
It was a clear order and Hermione was helpless but to start gulping down the drink. It burned, bringing tears to her eyes, and she was hard pressed to breathe, but she was powerless to stop.
“Stop drinking,” he quietly commanded after a few seconds.
She finally wrenched the glass free from her lips and gasped for air and coughed. What a vile concoction.
“You couldn’t stop on your own?” he asked.
She shook her head, still struggling for her breath. She had swallowed a good portion of the drink before he made her stop, and she felt a bit disconnected from herself. It wasn’t the same sort of disconnection as during the match, though. Everything felt more dulled and she felt slightly less like her world was ending. This was an upside. No wonder people drank when they were depressed.
“I’m sorry.”
Her head whipped up and her mouth fell open. What?
He grimaced. “Stop staring at me like that, Granger. I just didn’t mean to drown you in firewhiskey. Drink at your own leisure.”
“Can’t I just be allowed to go?” she whimpered.
He grinned. “Of course not,” he replied. “Can’t have Theo miss this sight, can we?”
Author: AkashaTheKitty
Characters: Blaise Zabini, Draco Malfoy, Ginny Weasley, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Pansy Parkinson, Ron Weasley, Theodore Nott (whew)
Genres: Drama, Friendship, Hogwarts Years, Humor, Romance
Warnings: HBP Spoilers, although slightly incompatible.
Overall Rating: R
Summary: Hermione has everything she could possibly want... Except a life. People are getting sick of her superior attitude, especially Draco Malfoy, who schemes to get her down, once and for all. And then there's the thing with The Bracelet... 7th year AU.
Go here if you didn't read previous chapters.
The game was surreal.
Hermione was trapped in a dreamlike state, unable to process anything happening as actually happening to her. This was a nightmare that she would be sure to wake up from soon. Any minute now, she would open her eyes and be back in her bed. It wasn’t her wearing the Slytherin scarf to the Gryffindor stands. It wasn’t her people hissed at. It wasn’t she, who was cheering when the Slytherin team entered the pitch, earning a reproachful look from Professor McGonagall herself.
It certainly wasn’t she who cried out encouragement as one of the Slytherin Chasers sent the Quaffle straight for the hoops just above her. It wasn’t her voice Ron recognized, distracting him so he turned and stared down at her instead of blocking the hoop, leaving the Quaffle a clear path to fly right past him.
Slytherin ten points, Gryffindor nil.
Hermione was mortified. Or she would have been, if she could just shake this feeling that this wasn’t real.
Draco was hovering close and was grinning at Ron’s clear confusion, but not for long; he still had a job to perform, a Snitch to catch.
This was the last thing Hermione could clearly remember afterwards.
She was going through the motions, but somehow she wasn’t there. It was a mercy, really, to not hear, see or feel her housemates reacting to her changed allegiance. It was an even greater mercy to not register her friends’ reactions. She didn’t know if Harry and Ginny had even noticed her, but she assumed they had. She was a speck of green and silver in a sea of red and gold. She also absent-mindedly registered that Gryffindor scored many more goals than Slytherin, Ron having taken up his position as a Keeper with a vengeance, nearly perfectly blocking the hoops.
Suddenly the game was over and the fog lifted a bit.
She had no idea who had won. Both Draco and Harry had suddenly spotted something and had started diving for it. There had been a roar from the audience. She had called out the name that she didn’t really want to root for. And then… the two of them had hit the ground; Harry first, Draco toppling on top of him. They had been still for a few seconds and then Draco rolled to the side. They were panting heavily and were, for the most part, unmoving.
It had gone dark a while ago, but the pitch itself was somewhat lit, making it possible to identify the two, currently grounded, Seekers. Neither, however, showed any sign of having caught the Snitch and there were some confused mutterings from the spectators.
Then Harry slowly got up to his hands and knees, while Draco remained unmoving. The teams were hovering anxiously above them, while the audience had gone perfectly still. Madam Hooch had by now reached them both and was apparently making inquiries to their general health and the Snitch. Harry showed his hands to be empty, causing the Gryffindors and most non-Slytherins to groan in disappointment. On the ground a grin was spreading on Draco’s face as he lifted his arm and showed the small golden ball, firmly caught in his hand.
The Slytherins cheered wildly and Hermione was forced to join them in doing so, as the score was announced. Slytherin had won with a score of 180 to 100 - the Gryffindors had put up a valiant fight, but for the first time since Harry’s first year as a Seeker, they had lost to their Slytherin counterparts.
Hermione was confused, though. Harry had hit the ground first, so he must clearly have reached the Snitch first. Why hadn’t he been the one to catch it? She didn’t understand, but she didn’t have time to analyze this turn of events. The Slytherin team had won and she had to get out of there before she was made a scapegoat by some of the less forgiving people in her House. Nobody would openly hex the Head Girl, not here in front of the teachers, but she needed to go find a peaceful place to hide until she could be fairly sure that everyone had gone to bed.
If she didn’t, then she was fairly sure she’d receive some heavy emotional, if not physical, scarring.
She ducked under the stands and made a mad dash back to the castle, grateful that the dark was shielding her.
“You ran away.”
Hermione huddled more into herself under the tree where she was currently sitting. She had quickly decided that there would be no safe place within the castle, so she had found this place near the lake. Nobody would willingly be spending time out here in November, especially not on the night after a big game.
“Does the ring tell you where I am, too?” she tonelessly asked, not even looking up at the boy who had spoken.
“As a matter of fact, it does,” Draco replied.
“Of course it does,” she mumbled.
“I could have summoned you,” he pointed out.
She didn’t reply. She didn’t look up, either. She just stared out across the lake, numbly wondering when she might be able to sneak back to her room and when she might be able to safely leave it again.
“I notice that you aren’t with your friends,” he remarked. “Interesting development.”
“I don’t think they’d want to see me right now,” she quietly replied. “So I’m staying away. Unless, of course, you’re going to force me to go see them.”
He looked genuinely puzzled at this. “Why would I do that?” he asked. “This suits me just fine.”
She didn’t respond. She didn’t even move a muscle. All he could feel from her, apart from the fact that she was freezing, was a dull emptiness that was slightly alarming.
“Aren’t you going to congratulate me?” he asked after a few minutes of her ignoring him.
“Congratulations,” she muttered.
“Thank you,” he said.
There were a few more moments of silence.
“How did you do it?” she then asked. “Harry was first. He was closer. How did you manage to get the Snitch? Please tell me that you didn’t use me to distract him!” She couldn’t bear it if he had.
“I was better,” he sharply said. “I caught the Snitch, simply because I was better than him.”
Hermione didn’t believe that for one second. “If you say so.”
She knew she had just annoyed him, but what would he do about it? What could he possibly do that was worse than what he had already done today?
Knowing him, he could probably think of several things.
She didn’t really care. She just wanted everything to go away, especially him.
“Well, come on, then,” he finally said.
She looked up at him. “I’d rather not.”
“I didn’t ask you,” he coolly replied.
“Can’t you just go celebrate and leave me be for once?” she quietly asked. “I did what you told me to. They all hate me now. Can’t I just get a few hours of peace?”
“So you can what?” he harshly asked. “Sulk? Freeze to death? Drown yourself in the lake?”
The emptiness rolling from her was seriously leading him to believe that she might do something foolish. It hadn’t even been that bad; people hadn’t really jostled her or anything. He’d been able to keep an eye on her from the air, and it seemed that her housemates had been grumpy but hardly hateful.
“The bet is only half over, so I can’t tolerate any of that,” he added for good measure.
Hermione sighed and got to her feet. “I wouldn’t do that,” she muttered. “I’m not a quitter.”
“I might believe that if you actually stopped acting like one,” he said, ignoring her glare. “Running away, hiding. What good is that going to do anyone?”
“Excuse me if I don’t want to be hexed by both of our houses,” Hermione scathingly retorted. “It’s called self-preservation. You of all people should be familiar with that.”
“Running away makes you look guilty, though, doesn’t it?” he insisted.
“Why do you care?”
“I don’t really,” he said. “It’s working pretty well for me, isn’t it? But this depression of yours is annoying me.”
She gaped at him before she sputtered, “If me being depressed annoys you, then maybe you shouldn’t strive to depress me!”
“I don’t strive to depress you,” he matter-of-factly said. “I strive to humiliate you and ruin your good name.”
“How is that not the same?”
“Because I don’t care how you feel about it,” he irritably snapped at her. “Just stop sulking and stop procrastinating and bloody well come along!”
“Yes, master,” she dully said.
“If you think talking back to me will help any, then you’re sadly mistaken,” he growled as he grabbed her wrist and pulled her, stumbling, along after him.
He took her to the Slytherin common room. She wasn’t surprised. What better place to make her suffer than at the Slytherin after-game celebrations? He was, of course, greeted like a hero and led to a comfortable chair in the middle of the room. Hermione was being conspicuously ignored. She assumed it was because she had so clearly entered with Malfoy. It was ironic how his presence was all that protected her from them. She stood next to the chair, knowing that she probably wasn’t allowed to just slink off to a corner.
“Here,” Draco said, thrusting a glass of a golden liquid at her. “Stop looking like you expect us to attack you. Why would we? You cheered for Slytherin, didn’t you?”
He was looking far too smug for Hermione’s liking and she flushed a bright red with anger. How dare he act as if she had had any choice in the matter when she had begged him to let her off the hook?
“I don’t drink,” she tartly said, putting the glass down.
His eyes darkened with anger, but he didn’t respond.
“Where’s Theo?” he instead asked Blaise who had just made his way through the throng to greet his friend.
“I think he’s either in his room or at that office of his,” Blaise replied. “You know he doesn’t care much for Quidditch.”
Hermione noticed the brief look of disappointment on Draco’s face, before he managed to hide it. Apparently, he’d been counting on Nott to be there to congratulate him on his victory.
“His loss,” was, however, his only response.
“I’m sure he’ll find you once things quiet down a bit,” Blaise said in what Hermione thought must be a soothing voice.
Draco shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.” His eyes fell on Hermione as Blaise made his way across the room to talk to someone else. “Why are you just standing there?” he asked. “Find a place to sit down. Don’t go too far, mind.”
Hermione looked around the room for an available seat. There didn’t seem to be any. She froze as her eyes met the icy blue glare of Pansy Parkinson, who obviously didn’t appreciate her presence. She realized that Draco hadn’t even acknowledged Pansy yet and that she was getting the wrong idea.
“Um…” she hesitantly said, not sure if she should meddle in this.
“What is it, Granger?” Draco asked with a weary sigh. “You prefer to stand now? Honestly, sometimes I think you just love making this harder on yourself than it has to be.”
“No, nothing like that at all,” she rushed to assure him. “Although, there don’t seem to be any seats left. I was just wondering…”
He raised his eyebrows expectantly as her voice trailed off. “Get on with it, then,” he snapped when she didn’t know how to proceed.
She lowered her voice. “Don’t you think you should pay some attention to your girlfriend?” she asked.
That appeared to be the exact wrong thing to say. Again, his eyes darkened and his features turned into a scowl. “Not you, too!” he growled. “It’s none of your business! And she didn’t come over here, either, did she?”
Hermione glanced back at Pansy whose glare had not lost any of its intensity. Draco followed her look and then grinned.
“Oh, I see,” he said, sounding very amused. “It’s your own hide you’re worried about, then? I do suppose she might want to discourage you from any, ah, ideas you might have.”
“What ideas?” Hermione asked, bewildered. “She knows what’s going on.”
“True, but she’s still jealous of you wearing that bracelet. I wonder what she might do to you…”
Hermione’s eyes widened a fraction. “Do to me?” she squeaked. “Why would she have any occasion to do anything to me?”
Suddenly, Draco’s arm whipped out and grabbed her around the waist, toppling her across his lap, to everyone’s great mirth. Everyone’s but Pansy’s, of course. She looked murderous.
Hermione struggled up to a sitting position and then tried to get off him, but was firmly held in place.
“Think she might do something to you now?” he coolly asked.
“If she had any sense she’d dump you,” she sneered back. “Let me go! I’m sure you’re in violation of our contract.”
“Be quiet,” he said. “You have a place to sit now, don’t you? And exactly which point would I be violating? I’m not doing anything, really.” He looked entirely too pleased with himself.
Hermione’s eyes widened. “What is this?” she groaned. “What did I do to deserve this?” She was very aware of all of the stares she was receiving.
She hadn’t thought that this day could get any worse, but it just had.
He sighed and lowered his voice to be sure that nobody else heard. “If you’ll just be quiet and sit still, it won’t be a big deal. They already believe worse of you, remember?”
“Then why are you doing this?” she whispered.
“Because both you and Pansy are annoying me,” he calmly stated. “I’m getting tired of her sulking and unfounded jealousy and your attitude and inability to shut up. This seems quite the easiest way to get both of you at once.”
“Why would you want to be seen with a… a Mudblood on your lap?” she asked, squirming a bit to get to the very edge of his knee.
“Why not?” he haughtily returned. “I don’t think you realize just how unpopular I am with that set, anyway. So, who cares if they think my purity has been tainted? Your discomfort is worth it.”
“Gee, I’m flattered,” she grumbled.
He leaned over and grabbed the drink she had discarded before and thrust it at her again. “Now, drink this!” he hissed. “I want you to relax, before you give it all away. We can’t have my sacrifice being all for nothing, can we?”
It was a clear order and Hermione was helpless but to start gulping down the drink. It burned, bringing tears to her eyes, and she was hard pressed to breathe, but she was powerless to stop.
“Stop drinking,” he quietly commanded after a few seconds.
She finally wrenched the glass free from her lips and gasped for air and coughed. What a vile concoction.
“You couldn’t stop on your own?” he asked.
She shook her head, still struggling for her breath. She had swallowed a good portion of the drink before he made her stop, and she felt a bit disconnected from herself. It wasn’t the same sort of disconnection as during the match, though. Everything felt more dulled and she felt slightly less like her world was ending. This was an upside. No wonder people drank when they were depressed.
“I’m sorry.”
Her head whipped up and her mouth fell open. What?
He grimaced. “Stop staring at me like that, Granger. I just didn’t mean to drown you in firewhiskey. Drink at your own leisure.”
“Can’t I just be allowed to go?” she whimpered.
He grinned. “Of course not,” he replied. “Can’t have Theo miss this sight, can we?”