The Ball (Part 1)
As soon as the door opened, Hermione’s senses were assaulted from all angles. The great hall had been transformed into an elaborate ballroom, complete with a makeshift dancefloor in the center of the room. The massive candelabras that hung from the walls that were usually lit, instead lay dormant, the only source of light in the room being the hundreds of candles placed strategically around the room and the ceiling which had been charmed to mimic the nights sky outside. Even with the candles and the full moon up above, the great hall was considerably darker than usual, with the outskirts of the room completely shrouded in shadows. Surrounding the dance floor was a dozen or so large round tables, draped in deep red cloth and decorated with massive flower arrangements. The air was warm and perfumed; Hermione recognized the scent of Jasmine and Ginger, immediately answering her question about which flower species the arrangements consisted of. She inhaled deeply; the scent reminded her of the vacation she took with her parents to Hawaii a few years earlier. An orchestra was playing in the spot where the teachers table usually sat; something violin forward, slow and silky. Several couples were already whirling around the dancefloor, even with everyone concealing their identity with various masks, she spotted Parvati Patil, easily recognizable in a brightly colored Sari, dancing with someone she thought could be Dean Thomas. Between the music, lighting, and perfumed air Hermione was instantly entranced.
She was also surprised. When she imagined what the masquerade ball would look like, she assumed something similar to the Yule ball Hogwarts had hosted back in fourth year. The yule ball had been beautiful but was clearly decorated in a way that was appropriate for all ages. The room she stood in now, well, Hermione was at a loss for words. The dim lighting, night sky, warm air, and tasteful decorations filled the room with the palpable aura of romance. She supposed it made sense, the Yule ball had been for all ages, and this ball was exclusive to 6th and 7th years.
Blaise waited patiently for her to take in the sights around her before leading them through the crowd in search of an open table. She let him guide her as she craned her neck this way and that, trying to take in as much as she could. She recognized Ginny’s flaming red hair a few tables over, and Hermione waved excitedly. Ginny’s eyes connected with Hermione’s, and Hermione could tell she was struggling to identify who was waving at her. After a moment, Ginny’s posture stiffened, and she knew Ginny had made the connection.
Ginny did not wave back.
Ginny must have recognized Blaise, even behind the mother of pearl mask that stretched from his hairline to the top of his cheekbones. Hermione had seen it coming, all hope of her date’s identity remaining anonymous had died the moment she laid eyes on him in front of her dorm earlier. Sure, the top half of his face was concealed by a mask, but the sharp aristocratic outline of his jaw was unmistakable, and if that weren’t enough, the black slim fit wool suit he wore was a dead giveaway. Everything about him oozed generational wealth, classic old money.
Awkwardly, Hermione dropped her own hand back down to her side, her smile fading as her and Ginny regarded each other from across the room. Hermione could see the coldness in Ginny’s eyes, even from afar. She had expected disapproval, but to ignore her entirely? Hermione felt anger flaring to life in her chest. Hermione had practically grown up with Ginny, even spending the last few summers splitting her time between her childhood home and the burrow. Hermione had spent the last seven years saving the necks of both Ginny’s brother and boyfriend countless times at great personal cost, and sure, Ginny had made it very clear that she felt that Hermione was distracted, but attending something as inconsequential as a school dance with a Slytherin was enough just cause to freeze her out?
Hermione’s vision went red as fury coursed through her veins, and she broke eye contact with Ginny before she lost control and broke something else instead. She felt like hexing someone, anyone, which was unusual and alarming. Of course she got mad, she was only human, but Hermione had always prided herself on her rationality and ability to control herself. But at the moment, it was taking all of her inner strength not to turn back around and show Ginny just how distracted she really was and give her a first-hand demonstration of some of the dark curses Theo had taught her.
With auspicious timing, Blaise halted their step and pulled out one of the chairs at an empty table.
“For the lady” Blaise teased, bowing and gesturing to the open seat in an over-the-top performance.
It was just what Hermione needed, she couldn’t help but giggle at his silliness, and she felt some of the rage dissipate as she took her place in the offered chair. Her giggles morphed into a very un-lady like laugh as Blaise pushed her chair in, like her father used to when she was a toddler.
“Wow, you really are full service Zabini” she joked, looking back at him.
“It’s Blaise, and you truly have no idea just how full service I can be” he retorted with a playful wink.
Hermione felt her cheeks heat up; he truly was handsome, and if he had introduced himself perhaps even just a few months before, then maybe, just maybe they could have shared something more than friendship. She could feel a spark between her and Blaise, but what was a spark compared to the out-of-control inferno that Theo had ignited within her?
“Can I get you a drink?” he asked, snapping her out of her thoughts.
“Sure” she replied with what she hoped was an eager smile, thinking of Theo had made her sad again. She missed him, and she hated herself for it.
Blaise sauntered off towards the drink table, leaving her alone with her thoughts. How had she gotten to this point? She had known her mission from the beginning, and even when she decided to go off mission and instead pursue an avenue she thought would better assist the order, she had still known a simple fact; that her and Theo would never work. There was no future between them. Even if the truth came out and she was blacklisted, their worlds where still just too different.
Even knowing that hard truth, she had still allowed herself to get attached. She was weak.
Feeling hopeless, Hermione rested her head in her hands, staring down at the table solemnly. Even in a room full of people, she still felt somehow completely alone.
Hermione heard the sound of approaching footsteps from across the table, so she forced the most convincing smile she could manage before looking up, expecting to see Blaise returning with drinks in hand.
A couple stood in front of her, and Hermione’s smile dropped. Definitely not Blaise.
Hermione could tell that the tall blonde girl in front of her, wearing a slinky metallic dress so short that her thigh gap was visible, was one of the Greengrass sisters. Both Daphne and Astoria where beautiful, and boy did they know it. Their beauty and privilege, a blessing by any standard, had come at a price, a superiority complex and deep-set narcissism. They were like the first snowfall of the season, breathtaking until you realize just how damn cold it is.
And standing next to Greengrass, looking straight at Hermione, was Theo.
Hermione realized with a pang that he looked great, he had forgone his usual athletic attire that he wore when they were training and was instead wearing a deep blue navy suit. His hair was slicked back in a style she hadn’t seen on him yet, he usually just let his curls hang loosely over his forehead. A black mask that appeared to be made of snake skin covered the left half of his face. He looked expensive, like the rich pure blood he was born to be.
The way Theo carried himself, most people could instinctively sense he was dangerous just by looking at him, but cleaned up like he was right now, expensive suit, slicked back hair, silver cufflinks reflecting the candlelight, had Hermione feeling more on edge than ever. He looked like a professional assassin.
Hermione stared at Theo, her fake smile falling as soon as she met his eyes. She knew she should look away; she knew that every second that ticked by betrayed the casual act she had put on ever since the night they had received the ball invitation, but she couldn’t. Time stood still whenever she looked at him, like a break from reality, a drug, and she hadn’t had a fix in days.
It was only when Greengrass cleared her throat pointedly that Hermione was able to tear her eyes away from his, her gaze shifting over to his date instead.
Greengrass was looking between them, her eyes slightly narrowed.
“Do you know her Theo?” Greengrass questioned, not even attempting to hide the irritation in her tone.
Theo cleared his own throat, shaking his head subtly as if just remembering where he was. “Right, Daphne, meet Her- Granger. Granger, meet Daphne” he mumbled looking between the two of them.
Neither girl said anything as they sized each other up. Hermione needed to break the silence if she was going to manage to keep pretending she wasn’t as attached to Theo as she actually was. She was the one that had proposed the idea they attend the ball with different people in the first place, and just because actually seeing him with someone else had been harder than she had imagined it would, it didn’t change anything.
Hermione stuck out her hand towards Daphne, “It’s nice to meet you Daphne, I’m Nott’s roommate in the head boy and head girl’s suite”.
Daphne didn’t even look down at Hermione’s outstretched hand and instead wrapped both of her hands around Theo’s upper arm, pulling him closer to her in a not-so-subtle display of possessiveness.
“A pleasure, I’m sure” Daphne responded icily.
Theo’s eyes flicked back to hers, and she could see the silent apology in them for a moment until his gaze shifted upwards, looking at something behind her. Suddenly his expression hardened, and she could see his posture stiffen ever so slightly.
She turned to look, but all that was behind her was Blaise approaching with two drinks in hand. She twisted her head back towards Theo, confusion written all over her face, but his eyes where still trained on Blaise.
“Theo!” Blaise greeted boisterously as he approached, coming to a stop next to Hermione.
“Blaise” Theo responded in a cool voice. Hermione was confused, weren’t Blaise and Theo friends?
“Have you met my date?” asked Blaise while holding out one of the drinks to Hermione.
Theo’s eyes flashed as he looked from Blaise to Hermione.
“Wait, of course you have, head boy and girl, how silly of me” Blaise responded animatedly before anyone had a chance to answer.
Hermione accepted the drink being offered to her and immediately took a large gulp, nervously looking between Theo and Blaise.
Suddenly, the air was ripped from Hermione’s lungs and she dissolved into a coughing fit as she struggled to swallow whatever she had just drank from her cup. She had expected it to be punch, but whatever she had swallowed tasted like rubbing alcohol with only a hint of punch.
Blaise laughed apologetically, “right, I should have warned you, it seems someone spiked the punch with what I believe to be vodka”.
“Someone, huh?” Theo repeated back, his eyes narrowing at Blaise.
Blaise shrugged and turned his attention back to Hermione. “Are you okay?” he asked her, rubbing small circles on Hermione’s back as she regained her composure.
Hermione didn’t miss the twitch in twitch in Theo’s jaw when Blaise touched her back.
“Yeah” she responded huskily, coughing one last time, “just caught me off guard”. She tried to give Blaise a small smile to prove she was okay, but the best she could manage was an awkward grimace.
Blaise laughed that easy laugh of his as he took a seat next to her, throwing his arm around the back of her chair once he was settled.
“Are you two moving on to your table?” he asked Theo and Daphne, gesturing with nod of his chin to the table a few over where Draco and his date sat.
“Yes –“ Daphne started to say.
“Actually” Theo interrupted, pulling out a chair for himself and sitting down, “I think we’ll sit here” he said with a tone that left no room for argument.
Daphne stared at him as he sat down, her mouth still open from when he had interrupted her. He hadn’t even pulled out her chair for her. She hesitantly pulled out her own chair and sat down with an audible huff. It was probably the first time shed ever had to pull out her own chair in her entire life Hermione thought with satisfaction.
“The more the merrier” Blaise cheered jovially, drinking deeply from his cup. Hermione took another sip of her own drink, wishing she could be anywhere but here.
Theo pulled out a silver flask from an inside pocket of his suit and twisted off the cap before taking a pull, his eyes never leaving Blaise. When he was finished, he tucked it back into his pocket without offering any to his date, who was now unapologetically pouting with her arms crossed.
“So, Hermione, are you enjoying your classes so far this year?” Blaise asked, turning in his seat slightly so that she was caged between his arm on the back of her chair and his face, which was now only about a foot away from hers.
Hermione sipped from her drink again before answering, silently begging the alcohol to ease the awkwardness. “Yes and no, I’m enjoying all of them except for history of magic…” she trailed off.
“Because Binns is clearly teaching with a heavy bias?” Blaise offered.
“Yes! Exactly!” Hermione exclaimed in surprise, she thought she was the only one that had caught that.
Blaise rolled his eyes, “The old codger forgets that he’s supposed to teach history from an educational standpoint, so most days he’s just sharing his own war stories. Half the time I expect him to pull out a cigar and tumbler of whiskey while he relives the horrors of whatever war from whatever year”.
Hermione laughed and genuine laugh, “I mean, if I had been around to witness over a thousand years’ worth of wars, it’s all I would probably talk about as well” she joked.
“Well, if it was you up at the front of the class sharing war stories, it would be much easier to stay awake” Blaise flirted, and Hermione felt herself blush.
A sharp thud from across the table made her jump, and she looked up to see that Theo had slammed his flask on the table.
Hermione needed to get out of here.
“Excuse me for just a minute, I need to go to the loo” she said quietly to Blaise, giving him a small apologetic smile before getting up and all but running out of the great hall. She felt like she couldn’t breathe.
Hermione ran down the hall to the closest girl’s bathroom, her heels tapping sharply against the stone and echoing against the castle walls. She burst through the door to the bathroom, lunging towards the nearest sink and gripping the porcelain with shaky hands like a lifeline. Her breath was coming out in short, ragged pants and it felt like the room was shrinking; she knew that she was on the verge of a panic attack.
It didn’t make any sense.
Hermione had understood when she’d had a panic attack after Theo had told her about Voldemort’s plans to set up muggle-born concentration camps; it was a fear like that she could rationalize, it had made sense, that as a muggle-born she would be petrified by the idea of not only herself, but everyone that shared her “dirty blood” would be subjected to death by execution. It was the type of all-encompassing fear that turned your blood to ice and ripped the air from your lungs.
But why was she panicking now?
Yes, the ball had been awkward to say the least, and it had hurt to see Theo with the beautiful Daphne Greengrass, but to coax such an extreme reaction out of her? She knew she had grown attached to Theo, she had been beating herself up about it all week, but this wasn’t the first time Hermione had lost something she had been attached to, so why was she on the verge of blacking out in the girl’s bathroom?
Hermione was no stranger to loss, being best friends with Harry had meant always having target on her back, and she didn’t see that changing anytime soon. She had taught herself long ago not to get attached to anything she couldn’t fit in a backpack. Theo had been a mistake, a miscalculation on her part. Her naivety had made her overly confident that she could be intimate with him and not get attached, but clearly she had been wrong.
But it still didn’t answer why she was so distraught. Hermione had lost plenty during her tenure as the brains behind Potter success; her childhood, her innocence, friends. She had witnessed people she loved die right in front of her, more than once, and just recently she had very literally erased herself from her own parents’ memories, knowing full well that it meant she would most likely never get to see them again. All of which had hardened her into somebody who had become fairly proficient at dealing with loss, but here she was, hyperventilating over a dirty bathroom sink, because of a boy?
Was she in love with Theodore Nott?
The thought had occurred to Hermione before, but she had never entertained it long enough to actually consider it. But in her current predicament, she wasn’t sure what else to call it.
Hermione reached out and twisted the spigot on the sink and plunged her hands into the icy water as tears started to sting at her eyes, threatening to spill over. In an attempt to stop them, Hermione splashed the frigid water over her face, grateful that she had spent the extra second spelling her eyeliner in place so that it didn’t run.
She raised her head up enough so that she was staring at herself directly in the mirror, rivers of water streaming down her cheeks and chin until they spilled over into the porcelain bowl below. Everything was the same, yet different.
Love.
The scientist in Hermione had known what love really was since she was old enough to read; a complex interplay of brain chemicals, primarily dopamine, oxytocin, and norepinephrine, which are released during feelings of attraction and bonding.
Love.
She had always assumed that because of her deep understanding of the human brain, she would be able to see it coming from a mile away; almost like a bad storm, something that could be prepared for. She would board over the windows of her heart, tie down anything that wasn’t bolted down, and shelter in place until it passed.
But Theo had been like a tornado in the night, and she hadn’t seen it coming; not just bulldozing through the front door, but flattening the walls that surrounded her, leaving her unprepared an exposed.
Hermione laughed out loud as she thought of all the beautiful muggle actresses in countless movies she had watched throughout the years, who’s lives had been a mess until they fell in love, and then, as if by magic, everything suddenly made sense, their lives suddenly had purpose. The irony of it felt cruel, almost like a cosmic joke. Her life had made sense, she had a true purpose that most people only dreamed of, and it was only once she fell in love that everything fell apart.
Love, in every book she read and muggle movie she watched, was portrayed like a drug, a high; subtle and warm, like cozying up to a warm fire. Instead of the euphoria that both literature and media had led her to believe that was synonymous with love, she just felt angry. She felt cheated. Hermione had been focused before, a woman with a clear goal, who never wavered and never questioned her morals. Then she met Theo, and he had wormed his way through her defenses, breaking down her walls brick by brick until she had let him in, so subtly that she hadn’t realized it was happening.
He had ignited a fire within her when they first met and then had spent the last few months stoking and breathing air into the flames until the old Hermione perished within the inferno. And then he had pulled back, leaving her reeling, the fire still raging inside of her with nowhere to go.
The rage that Hermione had felt earlier when Ginny had ignored her returned twofold, and the buzzing beneath her skin; untapped magic singing in her veins, reached a crescendo.
Hermione Granger had faced bullies, death eaters, and Voldemort himself, at only 17 years old. She was the smartest witch of her age, and that was only by Hogwarts curriculum’s standard, she was also equipped with some of the most dangerous and obscure dark magic spells in existence. She was a badass witch. If she could survive the loss of her parents, she could survive the loss of Theo, and she would be damned if she allowed herself to be pitied while he moved on.
Hermione suddenly realized the opportunity that had been front of her the entire night that she had been too emotional to see until now. Blaise Zabini had asked her to the ball and had been overtly flirting with her all night. Blaise fucking Zabini. Tall, handsome, rich, and the perfect person to level the playing field between her and Theo.
Hermione thought about Daphne. Tall, beautiful, and cold. Was that what Theo was looking for? Someone so involved in themselves that they didn’t have room for anyone else? Hermione supposed she could see the appeal; it made Daphne fun and uncomplicated.
If fun and uncomplicated was what Theo was looking for, Hermione would show him just how fun and uncomplicated she could be; with someone else.
Straightening up, Hermione wiped the water from her face and adjusted her dress until she looked presentable again and clicked out of the bathroom with a new sense of purpose.
She had only made it a few feet out of the bathroom before she was sharply pulled into an alcove, a large hand pressed over her mouth keeping her from screaming. Strong arms pushed her against the cold walls of the castle, and she felt a hard body press against her, effectively trapping her.
Hermione whipped her eyes up, trying to identify her assailant, only to be met with the endless cerulean iris’ that she had become so familiar with. It was Theo that had corralled her into the alcove and pinned her against the wall, but why?
He looked down at her, his expression unusually troubled.
“Are you going to scream?” he asked, hesitantly lifting his fingers away from her lips.
She seriously considered screaming just to fuck up his night.
“Should I?” she asked, not bothering to hide the irritation in her voice.
Theo’s eyes flashed back at her, but he removed his hand from her face. Hermione waited for him to step back, but he didn’t budge. Hermione’s heart ached briefly when she thought back to the many, many times he had pinned her against the wall in the past, but she refused to be that girl; the girl that pined after a man that didn’t want her.
The silence between them grew thick as each of them seemed to wait for the other to speak first. Hermione tilted her chin up defiantly, and she could feel his irritation radiating off of him in waves.
“Zabini” Theo ground out. It wasn’t a question; it sounded more like an accusation.
“Greengrass” she spit back venomously as she lifted her face even closer to his. She could feel her anger and magic pulsing right under her skin, almost as if the two had become one.
Theo’s eyebrows shot up and she could see genuine confusion in his eyes, but she didn’t want to talk to him any longer. He had barely spoken to her in weeks, and he had the audacity to criticize her date and then act confused when she did the same?
“If you have something to say Nott, then say it. If not, then kindly fuck off, I’m sure my date is wondering why I have been gone so long” she said icily, emphasizing the word date.
Theo flinched as if he had been physically struck, and such a sight normally would have filled Hermione with remorse, but all she felt was rage. It was almost as if it had taken on a life of its own, slithering just under her skin, alive and hungry.
Theo released her from the wall and took a step back, his eyes now cooly iced over; his gaze just as unreadable as the mask that concealed half his face. She continued to stare at him as her rage simmered and threatened to boil over, and her magic crackled in the air around them.
She needed to walk away, if she kept staring at him she was either going to kill him or kiss him. Drawing on all of her willpower, she turned away and stomped down the hall, and she had almost made it back to the large wooden doors leading to the great hall when she heard his voice behind her.
“Hermione” he called out for her, an edge of desperation in his voice.
Hearing her first name from his lips stopped her in her tracks, and she couldn’t help turning back to look at him.
He hadn’t moved from his spot down the hall and was so heavily concealed in shadow that she could barely make him out. She thought he might have looked concerned, or sad, but it could easily have been a trick of the light.
“Don’t trust him” said Theo, his words echoing eerily off the walls.
“Why not? I trusted you” Hermione deadpanned back. She didn’t wait for him to respond, she knew he wouldn’t. She turned around and pushed open the doors to the great hall and walked through them, letting them close behind her with a resounding thud.
The fragrant air of the ballroom washed over her, immediately putting her into an altered state of relaxation. She would have to ask the teachers about all the different types of flowers they used, they smelled heavenly.
Hermione spotted Blaise across the room, still sitting at their table and chatting with Daphne, right where she had left him. Hermione took a deep breath, she could do this, she could get over Theo. If she can battle death eaters and survive, she can flirt with Blaise Zabini for a night. Hermione ran her fingers through her hair one last time, making sure none of the curls had tangled, and then confidently walked over to Blaise.
Hearing her approach, he looked up and her and smiled, his white teeth contrasting beautifully against his dark skin.
“Ah, she’s alive!” Blaise joked and stood up to pull her chair out.
Hermione smiled back sweetly and accepted the open seat and waited until he had seated himself next to her before she turned to face him. She waited until his attention had returned to her before she made a show of crossing her legs, making sure that her thigh slit fell open on the side, exposing her tanned thighs and calves.
His gaze dipped down, taking in her freshly shaved legs and strappy heals. When he looked back up at her, his expression had morphed from playful and flirty, to hungry. She had him, hook, line, and sinker. It seems dark magic wasn’t the only thing Theo had taught her.
Speaking of which, she felt eyes on her, and she knew before even looking up that Theo was watching her from somewhere. She raised her eyes and looked around the great hall, spotting him near the entrance, looking straight at her and looking positively furious.
Hermione slowly looked back towards Blaise, who was still eyeing her exposed legs while sipping at his drink, which she noted he had refilled during her absence.
“Blaise” she cooed seductively, “It seems the clasp on my heel came undone, would you mind?”. Good god, who was she?
Blaise’s eyes shot up to hers, his dams apple bobbing at her words, the only crack in his confident armor.
“As the lady wishes” he responded in a husky voice, his eyes sparkling devilishly as he ducked down.
Hermione didn’t bother watching Blaise, and instead looked back across the ballroom at Theo, who was watching the whole scene unfold. His face was a mask, an impenetrable safe of secrets that was impossible to crack, a talent he had perfected; but his eyes gave him away. If a single look could kill, Hermione would have dropped to the floor as if hit with an avada to the chest.
Theo was angry.
Adrenaline shot through her body, a feeling that she used to dread, but now relished in. Adrenaline meant you were alive, and she never felt more alive than when she was around Theo. Did that mean she was afraid of him? Of course, she would be a fool otherwise. It was no secret that Theo was dangerous; being around him was like willingly walking into a cage with a domesticated tiger, no matter how much trust you build with them, you know they could still turn on you in a heartbeat. Hermione knew she was playing a dangerous game, but perhaps it was worth the price.
She never broke eye contact with Theo; not when Blaise slipped her shoe’s strap back into place, not when she felt his warm breath on her knee; not even as he trailed one of his long fingers up her calf and just under the hem of her dress as he righted himself in his chair. It was only when Blaise began talking that she tore her gaze away from Theo and remembered where she was.
“I’m sorry, what was that Blaise?” she asked apologetically, still slightly dazed. She reached for her drink and took a large gulp and forced herself to swallow the burn.
Blaise laughed, clearly not offended. “I was asking if you had a boyfriend” he asked cockily as he took a sip from his own cup.
Hermione heard Daphne snort from across the table where she was still pouting, and to her mild horror, realized that Theo was approaching the table again.
Theo arrived with drinks in hand and passed one of them to Daphne before taking his seat. Hermione eyed him nervously, trying to think of answer that wouldn’t provoke him any further than she already had. Sure, she’d had her fun, but she wasn’t trying to get herself or anyone around her killed. What did Theo want to hear? That she was single? Taken? It’s complicated? They had never talked about it when they were intimate and labeling it now after she had already fired she first shot felt risky.
Hermione was so lost in her thoughts that she had almost missed it, the slight movement of Theo’s arm in her peripheral. She turned her gaze incrementally just in time to see Theo draping his arm casually around Daphne’s opposite shoulder.
Hermione’s brain briefly turned to mush, so many conflicting thoughts swimming to the forefront that she temporarily felt empty, like a computer glitch resulting in a critical loss of data.
She locked eyes with Theo, desperately searching them for some of the answers to the endless questions swimming in the forefront of her mind, but of course his expression, calm and collected, betrayed nothing.
She was about to turn back to Blaise; apologize for wasting his time before claiming illness and fleeing the dance. At least then she wouldn’t have to worry about saying the wrong thing.
But right as Hermione opened her mouth to respond, Theo’s fingers on Daphne’s shoulder twitched, and she watched as he stroked her pale skin, light as a feather. He trailed his pointer and middle finger every so lightly up the topmost part of her shoulder until he reached the base of her neck and then reversed directions until he reached the sinfully thin strap of her dress, which he dipped his fingers beneath so that the strip of fabric followed his trajectory down, exposing her shoulder.
Hermione’s first instinct was to feel hurt, followed by rage, but when she locked eyes with Theo once again, she realized his gaze has turned playful, challenging even.
Hermione had assumed that she was the only one that was playing a game, but not only had Theo called her bet, he had raised the stakes.
Hermione raised her eyebrow at Theo and cocked her head in a way that she knew would portray exactly what she was thinking;
Game on.