Chapter 16
Hermione closed the door behind her, leaning against the old wooden door, feeling the cold air slipping through the crack and brushing against her skin. She took a deep breath, her brown eyes sparkling with thought, mixed with a hint of excitement.
Malfoy. That name had once again occupied her thoughts, but this time it wasn't the usual annoyance or hatred. His words, the way he knelt down, his deep gray eyes filled with mystery as he called her "Goddess," had imprinted themselves in her mind. Hermione wasn't foolish enough to believe the worship in his tone. It was all a play, and she knew it. But in the end, the result was exactly what she wanted—Malfoy had agreed to cooperate.
Malfoy's presence in this plan was still a significant advantage. The Malfoy family—rich, powerful, and full of schemes—was a valuable resource. Hermione knew that with her intelligence combined with Malfoy's connections, they could build a force no one would ever expect.
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The next morning, sunlight gently filtered through the large windows of the castle, casting a soft golden hue over Hogwarts. The hallway was bustling with the chatter and laughter of students.
Hermione walked on the cold stone floor, her long black cloak trailing behind her with every step. The soft sound of her shoes clicking echoed in the quiet, but she paid it no mind. Her thoughts were focused on the plans ahead.
As she walked past a corner, a familiar figure brushed by.
Malfoy.
Their eyes met. Hermione immediately recognized the cold, indifferent gaze of his. His gray eyes seemed to pierce through her, carrying that ever-present contempt. She didn't stop, nor did she show any sign of discomfort. A slight smirk, filled with arrogance, was all she offered before continuing on her way.
Malfoy didn’t say a word, only glancing at her once more before walking past. But Hermione knew—this wasn't just a casual encounter. It was a signal.
The plan had officially begun.
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The Great Hall was bathed in the light of floating candles. Hermione entered, her demeanor calm and familiar, just like every other day.
She sat next to Ginny, pouring herself a cup of tea. The steam rose gently, but her mind was far from focused on breakfast.
Harry, sitting across from her, kept his eyes on her. His green eyes were filled with a tangle of emotions.
“Hermione,” Harry spoke softly, almost whispering. “Are you okay after last night? I followed...”
Hermione looked up, her gaze meeting Harry's. She maintained her usual calm composure, as though his question didn’t faze her.
“I’m fine,” she replied tersely, her voice firm, leaving no room for further questioning.
He wasn’t ready to let it go. “I saw Malfoy with you... did he do anything inappropriate?” Harry's voice trailed off, barely audible.
At the mention of Malfoy, Hermione paused, her voice quiet as she responded, “Harry, I’m not a 12-year-old. He won’t do anything to me, don’t worry.”
Harry didn’t seem satisfied with her answer, but he said nothing more. Ginny raised an eyebrow, glancing at Hermione but also keeping quiet.
Just then, Ron appeared, his face beaming as he sat next to Harry.
“Did you guys see how amazing I was yesterday?” Ron boasted, his voice full of excitement. “The whole team cheered for me! And... Lavender, Merlin, she’s just perfect!”
Hermione remained silent, gently stirring her tea.
“We had an unforgettable night,” Ron continued, deliberately emphasizing his words.
Harry forced a smile, clearly uncomfortable with Ron's bragging. Ginny, sitting next to Hermione, sighed in annoyance, whispering something to Harry.
Ron noticed Hermione sitting across from him and raised his voice. “The kiss with her was unreal, Harry. She’s so sweet, smells like body lotion, not like... books,” he said, eyeing Hermione.
“Nice, Ron. Looks like you had a great time. Congrats,” Harry said, taking a sip from his cup.
“Don’t be so down, Harry. If it were you, you’d be just like me,” Ron leaned in closer to Harry, grinning widely.
Hermione didn’t respond. She was too focused on finishing her breakfast. She savored every bite, despite knowing that something in Ron's words was aimed at her.
But that was nothing new. Victory had clouded his judgment.