4.
Pulling a pill out of the blister, she put it in her mouth and began to dissolve it.
It's the only privilege from the world where she was born, and what Hermione brought with her here. The painkillers worked flawlessly on those days when her body, working like a clock, reminded her that she was a woman. And these processes, which Granger had studied from the age of six from her parents' books, were too painful for her.
And also… this Quidditch.
She wraps her coat tighter, wanting to hide from the bone-piercing autumn wind, and at the same time inhales the humid cold air, which is sobering from the pain. Nervousness, lack of sleep and a frequently changing mood are a consequence not only of her well being, but also of her desire to always be with friends at the right moment.
Yeah. Who needs it, I wonder?
He looks at Ron, for whom today is an important day, because he has been dreaming about the goalkeeper's place for several months. And now is the crucial moment.
She raised her hand and waved at him encouragingly when he looked in her direction, and frowned when she noticed McLaggen. The guy, having caught up with Weasley, was saying something unpleasant, judging by the evil look of her friend. Why did he stick to them? And you can't unhook it. What if he blurts out something unnecessary?
Granger only clucked when Cormac saluted her.
Isn't this feeling of well-being making her extremely irritated right now?
For the next half hour, the girl did not follow the action on the field, preferring to indulge in the eternal dilemma: «Take another pill, or the pain is about to go away?»
It was only when Ron came out at the gate that she couldn't look away. Watching his every jerky athletic move. For muscles and a trained body. Behind the red flowing hair. But she wasn't the only one devouring his body with her eyes. Lavender, a couple of meters away from her, without stopping sucking on a Sugar feather, shot her eyes in the direction of her best friend. Cherry. Hermione liked caramels better herself.
And the fact of having a seductively obsessive blonde was infuriating.
Hermione got upset when Ron gave up. She was upset and kept asking for a ton of luck for him. But her friend was frankly inferior to Cormac, and, deciding on a desperate step, shifting a little on the bench, Granger, pretending to sneeze, whispered:
«Confundus.»
It worked! Repulsed.
While Brown is happily clapping, jumping up from her seat, Hermione, smiling lightly and getting up, headed for the exit from the stadium… where…
Where Draco Malfoy himself stood at the exit, his gray irises catching her every move. And for some reason, Granger felt it. No. I read from his twisted lips that he noticed. That's it. I noticed absolutely everything.
***
Draco was in a great mood.
Today, in the Room of Requirement, he found something that will help him fulfill the Lord's order.
After examining the vanishing cupboard and making a plan to fix it, Malfoy, in high spirits and with a desire to start as soon as possible, was already heading to the Slytherin dungeons when he saw from the window the terrible red-brown cloaks of Gryffindor at the Quidditch stadium.
Sporting curiosity led him to the stadium by itself. It also played a cruel joke on him.
And when he caught the nerdy Granger in the second violation of the rules in two weeks, Draco was either in pleasant perplexity, or in furious excitement and wondered to himself… was this her limit?
Where is its edge?
Where is he?
After all, she proudly marched past to the applause addressed to the redhead.
That bitch.
Catching up with this Gryffindor, he hid her under the shadow of the arch and hissed:
«Duty, Granger, duty.»
Malfoy stared into her furious eyes. He frowned, noticing a drop of sweat on his temple and an open coat. He watched and tried to figure out what it was about this girl that his parents hated about mudbloods.
She was a wildcat.
And he repeated to himself, «That's a bitch,» when this very wild cat, giving her fleeting indifference with her lips in a banal kiss on the corner of his lip, went on. Without further ado. Even without her usual bickering.
He watched her go and already dreamed of hitting back.
In the very near future.
From the memory of grinning eyes and her quick indifferent and mocking kiss, with which she wanted to beat this… idiot, Hermione winced, crumpling the edge of the prophet in her hands.
The lines she had been naively trying to read for twenty minutes were infuriating.
«To be honest, I thought I was going to miss the last ball,» Leaning his elbows back on the sofa, Ron thought. Granger could feel his joy in her shoulder blades. «I hope Cormac didn't sulk too much,» the letters in the unfortunate newspaper blurred, and the girl put it down. «By the way, he likes you, Hermione.»
This turkey was still missing.
She rolled her eyes. What had Cormac said to him?
«He's disgusting,» with a sincerity that Weasley could hardly see in her words, she concluded.
But she was hardly heard. Ron smiled, exchanging glances with the Lavender coquette, and Hermione…
And Hermione wanted to…
She wanted to say something, but she couldn't find the right words to draw his attention to herself. For him to talk to her. To get a little bit of interest from your best friend.
What is she doing wrong?
All.
Why is she worse than Brown?
Maybe she's not as beautiful as he would like?
Perhaps Granger should think about asking Ginny to help her choose cosmetics. Or maybe she should buy those pearl hairpins that she liked in Diagon Alley? Lip Gloss…
Does she want to feel beautiful?
«Have you heard anything about the Sectumsempra spell?» Harry turns around, interrupting her useless stream of thoughts.
«No, nothing,» Hermione blinks and excitedly reminds her friend. «And if you're honest, then you should return this textbook…»
Ron interrupts her, and Harry starts flipping through the pages of this book again.
«He's the best in our class now,» Thanks for the reminder, Ron Weasley. You are terribly tactful. She just clicks again and shakes her head when she is defeated. «Slughorn thinks he's a genius!»
Pride in Harry slips into his tone.
The Gryffindor rises to her feet, stubbornly brushing invisible specks of dust from her trousers, as if it were the residue of those painful phrases from Ron for her. A bittersweet sediment.
«I want to know whose textbook it was,» holding out her hand and completely forgetting that they are actually in the faculty living room, she exclaims.
In this very tone, Hermione Granger usually crushed the strongest beliefs of her opponents.
***
The half-blood prince.
Is it a cipher?
A nickname?
This very prince was not only talented, but also insanely brilliant in his carelessness, if he left his diary in such a prominent place that Ron and Harry could find it.
Hermione drifted thoughtfully towards the library in order to solve this mystery. She put her fingers to her chin and hypnotized the masonry of the castle, then her shoes, and thought, thought, thought. Some kind of weird textbook. Harry didn't even want to give it to her until the last moment. If Ginny hadn't intercepted him and read who owned the diary, they would have had a catch-up in the living room.
«Ouch,» Clutching her left shoulder, she looked up at the one she was lucky enough to bump into.
Ernie Macmillan.
It's about nine o'clock at night. What is he doing here?
Granger clicked her tongue while Ernie looked at her curiously.
«Granger?»
He nodded, answering his own question.
And her: «You're blind?» It got stuck in my throat because the Hufflepuff abruptly threw out:
«Hermione, come with me?» The girl's eyes widened with each of his subsequent phrases. «There's a whole queue lined up for you. To the duel… to the duel, turn, Granger. You and Malfoy made a splash. I haven't told you yet how much money your sparring cost. Now you are the most delicious piece, for the fight…
Granger froze and, clenching her jaw, digested his monologue.
«Ernie, I would…»
Staying in his dreams, the guy interrupted her again, now firmly grabbing her wrist.
«You didn't report us, so you lik…»
«Macmillan, get the fuck out,» Malfoy's voice cut through the eardrums, and this blade that continued on its way had already come closer to them. «And don't get caught by the Gryffindor Prefect anymore.»
Malfoy, as unshakable as the most expensive steel, stood behind her.
He was the most expensive Japanese blade that killed at a time.
Оne.
Two.
Her interlocutor disappeared, as if Hermione had originally been alone in this corridor.
But her gut told her that this was not the last such offer from the Head of the Hufflepuff.
Thank You.
Granger mouthed it and continued on her way to the library. The girl did not want to talk to Draco, let alone, she would not even have the strength to turn to him now.
That was her maximum right now.
Which didn't suit the cheeky Slytherin.
Turning her by the elbow, he slammed the girl into his chest.
A confused and insanely tired girl.
«I've already paid for it today…»
Hermione felt rough fingers squeeze her shoulder.
«A kiss is not enough, Golden Girl.»
She was tired.
I wanted to… hide from it all.
She looked into his eyes, and in the pupils, cold as ice chips, there was a challenge.
So what?
Aren't you a golden girl?
And somewhere there, under her ribs, she was seized by liberation when she decided to be rude.
She decided not to be shy, not to fool around and just… just repeat the movements that Malfoy himself introduced her to. Hermione Granger poured out all her fatigue and disappointment in herself, biting his lips and then gently, almost playfully, running her tongue over them.
The dampness and darkness of the corridor were consumed by the sounds of this under-kissing. And somewhere beyond that orbit of burnt-out patience was their mingled breathing, his somehow wet fingers on her neck and… madness.
And her thoughts «why am I not like this» disappeared in a single realization:
«I want to be desired, not just beautiful.».