Lost

"Wow."

"Yeah."

"Seamus's foot, you say?" 

"Yeah, he really should see Madam Pomfrey about it. Dunno why he doesn't."

Hermione watched the slug in slight disgust while it's slimy body writhed around. Harry and Ron looked at it with a shared fascination, the pride of their discovery smug on their faces. 

"Well," she sighed, "maybe keep your distance? I'd hate for you to have to chop it off." She looked out, a bird landing in a pink-flowered tree catching her attention.

Ron's face paled, "Chop it? Chop what?"

"Your foot, Ron. Best hope that's not contagious." 

Harry quietly nodded along with raised brows. He tucked his hands into his pockets, giving Hermione some Déjà vu of her previous exchange. Ron noticed her quick change in mood and grew uncomfortable. 

"What did Malfoy say to you?" he asked with concerned eyes. Harry shot her a when did this happen? look. She rolled her eyes before answering.

"I've been zoning out in class again. I don't know what's going on, but these days I just get so... Anyway, I accidentally stared at him and he caught me. I have no idea how long I was staring for, but he took it as if I were drooling over him and we were at each other's throats. A bit of ugly name calling, really."

"Just ignore him," Harry snubbed, "Malfoy's always been jealous of us. He probably enjoyed riling you up, it's pretty obvious when you're zoned out." 

"Yeah, and you weren't really drooling at him," Ron released an empty, airy laugh. "Right?" 

Hermione and Harry both glared at him. "Obviously, Ronald," she huffed. "He just plucked a feather is all. I'll be fine; actually, it's almost time to get to class." 

Ron let out a dramatic groan while wincing at the sky. "Slughorn said we're working with a partner today. You heard him right? He said he's doing unusual pairings! What if I get paired with that pug-nosed prat Parkinson?"

"I think it's safe to say you wouldn't pass..." Harry swayed on his heels and turned back to the courtyard. Hermione and Ron followed closely, sharing their pessimistic sentiments. As they braced the walk back to the castle, clouds managed to block Hermione's precious sunlight, forcing the spring joy and life to wane under the shade. 

"Malfoy."

"Granger."

Hermione inhaled through her nose before plopping her bag on the floor and sitting down next to her newest headache. Slughorn had better give her an outstanding mark on this assignment, since her hell couldn't be any realer today. Every negative emotion possible flooded her body as she longingly gave Harry a look from across the room. He gave her a Oh, best of luck to you look as he shimmied over to Pavarti's desk. At least he had a tolerable partner, even if she was a bit dimwitted. 

"Now that you're all partnered up," Slughorn began, "I want you to go think the unthinkable, obtain the unobtainable, and challenge each other. This is no easy task, no..." Hermione scowled over at Malfoy, who looked forcibly bored and indifferent. He smelled nice, and it made her cold with nausea. The air felt toxic to breathe. "By the end of the week, I require one vial of whatever potion you dare choose from each pair on my desk. I also want a thorough research examination for proof of effectiveness. No animal testing please." Hermione perked up in shock. Testing? On themselves?

"Your goal," he continued, "is to impress me. I do not seek any ordinary potion, no...but something astounding! Reach for the clouds, children, and I anticipate your intuition!" He motioned for the class to begin, and the air between Hermione and her partner felt weighted. Noise of chatter, frantic page turning, and chairs pushed around filled her ears, but the silence between them was louder. As Malfoy began opening his book, she glanced over at Ron, who was a translucent slice of paper next to Pansy Parkinson. 

"So, um...maybe we should discuss what-"

"I'm brewing Veritaserum," he said, his attention remaining fixed on his book and quill. Hermione paused in ridicule.

"Veritaserum?" 

"Mm." 

She tried to read his face for any Just kidding, what would you like to brew? signs, but after two seconds, her hand shot into the air. 

"Professor Slughorn? I need a different partner." The class grew quiet, their attention all fixed among her, Malfoy, and Slughorn.

The professor turned to meet her eye. "Oh? Miss Granger? Whatever for?"

"Personal reasons. I feel that my opportunity of success is limited and at risk with and I'd rather work alone."

"Oh, nonsense! Mister Malfoy here is an exceptional student with highest marks of the class! After yourself, of course. I find you'll see this is a unique opportunity; carry on." 

Hermione's face went hot when the noise resumed. She wanted to yell at someone, or better yet, leave. Instead, she glared at the being next to her with as much force as she could muster. Malfoy remained busy, but annoyance attached itself to his face. 

"I'm not brewing that." She crossed her arms to show...defiance? Frustration? Judgement? Something to show she disapproves. Something.

"Good," he spat. "I can get my A, you stay out of my way, and you fail." He began writing a list of ingredients on some parchment; if they weren't in conversation, she'd have thought he wasn't acknowledging her presence. She didn't notice Slughorn approach with a delighted smile.

"And what do the class stars have planned for me next week?" he asked with twinkling eyes. 

"Sir," she huffed, "Malfoy wants to make Veritaserum-"

"Oh! Is that so? Well now, marvelous! I knew the moment I put you two together, you'd brave the unexpected!" Malfoy graciously nodded at Slughorn's praise, radiating a dazzling display of humbleness. Hermione huffed and crossed her arms. Ridiculous. 

"But sir, the use of Veritaserum outside the hands of the Ministry is purely illegal, we aren't allowed-"

"Now now, Miss Granger, we all know what happens here in this classroom stays in this classroom, yes?" He paused, but before she could refute, he continued, "And Mister Malfoy's father works for our respectable Ministry. I assure you, should we need any defense against the law, Mister Malfoy will provide the finest of testimonies. Don't feel fear towards the limitless opportunities in these walls. This assignment might just get you two into my little celebration later this season, wouldn't that just be fantastic? Do carry on." Her eyes burned holes into Malfoy's skull as Slughorn walked away, checking in with every remaining pair. She briefly heard his poor attempt to act pleased with Pansy Parkinson's suggestion of brewing Ammortentia. 

"Even if you successfully brew that difficult of a potion, which is hard to imagine, I'm not letting you test that on Weasley here."

Hermione ignored the chatter around her and tried to mimic the way Malfoy laced words with hate, but she ended up just sounding childish: "I'm not helping you brew that. It's against wizard law and I'm required to report you."

Malfoy huffed and leaned back into his seat, still refusing to look at her. "Your contribution to this means so little to me that I'll only say this once: I'd rather be buried alive than receive any efforts from you. I don't need your help, and I don't need your constant nagging that you give Weaselbee and Potter."

"I wouldn't give you an ounce of what I give them, you don't deserve it." 

His eyes met hers. She made an effort to remain hard, but she felt her attention shift to the closer features of his face. That's new. She'd never seen him in this proximity before, or if she had, she didn't pay much attention. His skin actually had a texture...it wasn't just this pale colored marble she'd imagined. She could see just the briefest color of rose on his pale cheeks, evidence that he carries blood in his veins. Blood that he thought was cleaner and pure. She wondered if he bled the same as her, or if it turned to jewels the moment it hit oxygen. His eyebrows moved into his typical scowl, as did the rest of his face, but Hermione felt like she was looking at someone else. Maybe it was just because the flecks of white in his irises were newly visible. "And what is it that you give them, hm? I can't imagine a girl like you can fulfill the wildest fantasy a man can have with...this," he gestured to her whole body. She felt heat flush to her ears.

"How dare you talk to me like that! My personal life is none of your business, and as far as you're concerned, neither is my relationship with my friends." 

He grinned and leaned back again, amused. "So it's true then? Of course you fuck them, why else would they cling to you like lost dogs?" Hermione jumped up, her chair shooting behind her as she towered over him. Everyone around them seemed to pay no mind, all busy searching with desperation for a way to impress Slughorn. 

"I'm not like that at all. Someone who doesn't know what love is insults like that. Just because your life is pathetic doesn't mean you get to talk to me like-"

"Oh, love is it? Yes, keep telling yourself that when your redheaded oaf of a lover stares at your arse again like he's found a trophy with his name etched." 

Her fists clenched as she leaned down to meet his eye. Electricity. His stupid game was so enticing, begging her to stutter and defend herself like a whimpering child. Of course everyone knew her relationship with Harry and Ron was platonic. He's trying you. He's baiting you. She could see his craving in his eyes, waiting for tears to fall at her cheeks. She refused to let him drink her adrenaline. His smell flooded her nose-sharp and cool, like cedar and moonflowers. It filled her with this odd flame; she hated to admit it, but she felt powerful.

He smirked at her lowered voice, "Careful, Malfoy." 

"Clearly your muggle parents didn't love you enough, so you need it between your legs. At least mate with your own kind instead of sticking even the lowest of purebloods into your web." 

There it went. Whatever patience she had, whatever small thread that was holding in the avalanche, it snapped. Her right hand found the small knife on the desk while her left grasped his wrist. His eyes winced as she sliced open his palm and threw the knife on the floor. He snatched his wrist away, and when she tried to grab it again, his hand crushed her own. She felt his blood make his grip slick and warm, but she kept her eyes on his. 

"Hm," she hummed just enough for him to hear between deep breaths. "It's just red." 

Malfoy sneered through his nose, every facial feature of his contracted into a terrifyingly fixated stare. Hermione could feel his gaze ripping her to shreds inside, tearing through every layer of herself until there was nothing but her core left. A gasp from behind them broke their energy; Nora Shaw, a Hufflepuff Hermione once heard talking about growing cabbage children, was looking queasily at Malfoy's dripping hand. When the class grew quiet yet again, he dropped her hand as if it burned him. He stood and stormed out of the room with his belongings, slamming the door shut behind him.