As It Was
A month ago.
Hermione had been looking for a way out of her own head, a distraction from the memories that still burned behind her eyes at night.
And she had found it, to a certain extent.
Her curiosity around the dark arts had ignited since the war. Not necessarily to use, but to learn. To learn about what had nearly taken her life countless times, that had stolen the lives of allies and influenced the nature of those who bathed themselves in its' power.
And knowledge was power.
Because they had won, but only just. Voldemort was gone and many of his followers had trailed after him into the icy pools of death.
But the cost still impacted Hermione greatly. Her parents no longer remembered her. She'd watched many people she cared about die in front of her eyes. She'd been tortured and maimed herself, the scars on her skin and within her mind a constant reminder.
Though the war had been won, darkness still remained. Lurking in the shadows while its' power rebuilt. Voldemort may have gone, but some supporters still remained, living in plain sight. Wanting to fulfill a vision of a muggleborn free world, where pure-blood armies reigned as the rest of society bowed at their feet in chains.
PTSD and paranoia definitely played a part in her darkest fears, but regardless, she wanted to be prepared. Know thy enemy.
So when she happened upon a text in the restricted section on the dark arts, more specifically, powers of the sanguine, her need for control and information overtook any righteousness.
Blood magic.
A way to both protect and fuel her power.
But curiosity had gotten the better of her. Studying the text no longer became about preparation or necessity. She was enthralled by it, completely fascinated by how the power was harnessed and wielded.
She became obsessed. Reading about rituals and rites that could enhance her power, strengthen it to use as a more competent weapon against her enemies. To make her feel more alive.
She experimented at first, beginning with a small solo ritual. Offering her blood to the earth under the rays of a full moon, reciting a spell that invigorated herself and her magic like never before. She'd been on cloud nine for weeks, feeling like she could take on anything, accomplish anything. Tricked herself into believing that everything was okay. More than okay.
But the feeling faded, and soon the itch to perform another blood ritual reared its' ugly head. That's what the book failed to mention, blood magic was addictive.
The solo ritual no longer fulfilled her like it had the first time. She needed more. Craved more. More power. More sustenance.
However, the more powerful rituals required another willing participant. And there was no way she was going to ask one of her fellow Gryffindors.
As with most of the Dark Arts (aside from Unforgivables) blood magic wasn't illegal, but widely frowned upon. As long as it was practiced with care and consent of all parties involved, it was deemed lawful but highly unorthodox. The ethics and morals surrounding the ancient magic weren't exactly acceptable within mainstream wizarding society however, and deciphering which of her fellow Gryffindors would be open to it would take up too much of her time.
Ever since Harry's brush with Sectumsempra, he'd all but vowed not to dabble with dark magic anymore unless it was absolutely necessary, afraid of potentially hurting someone he cared about. Ron had crossed her mind, but he very much only saw in black and white. Good and evil. Slytherine bad, Gryffindor good. Attempting to convince him that the world wasn't that cut and dry, that the lines can be blurred and benefits gained from dark and light...the very notion exhausted her. She didn't blame him though. The death of Fred had further instilled Ron's hatred of the dark arts.
So her mind shifted to the Slytherines.
They'd been tried and cleared of most crimes committed during the war, some forced to complete their final year of Hogwarts as a part of their probation. Their self-preservation and indoctrination by their families had been their primary defence, Hermione and Harry having provided testimony in many of their trials to secure the Slytherines' freedom.
But they'd had more than a taste of the dark arts. They'd lived and breathed it at one point. If anyone would've willingly participated in a blood ritual with her, she suspected it would be one of them.
As her eyes scanned the Slytherine table in the great hall during breakfast, her gaze had landed on Malfoy.
He hadn't spoken much to Hermione since the war, other than a well-executed yet formally written letter to her, Harry and Ron, essentially taking responsibility for the part he played and the actions he'd taken. She hadn't seen him engage much with anyone lately, other than Pansy Parkison and Theodore Nott who sat either side of him.
His face still harboured the signature Malfoy sneer, but a resigned sadness lingered underneath. Not quite broken, but not quite whole. Just there. Existing.
She could relate to that.
So one evening, the decision was made. She cornered him.
Hermione hadn't exactly been following him. If anything, she'd overheard a conversation between Zabini and him in Potions, explaining where he'd be later that night instead of a dorm party in the dungeons.
It was fate.
So, she lingered in the shadows of the Prefect's bathroom late that night against her better judgement. She only had to wait ten minutes before she saw the silver cap of blonde hair enter. With a bit of wandless magic, Malfoy turned on the taps as steam filled the room before beginning to undress.
She was momentarily distracted by his bare torso. His lean but muscled figure had been sculpted by hours of quidditch practice and manhood. No longer the skinny scared boy who lashed out any chance he got, though the faded dark mark still stood to attention against his pale skin.
He was beginning to undo his belt buckle when she quickly shook herself out of her gawking and stepped into his line of vision.
His steel grey eyes crinkled with confusion at the sudden movement through the steam.
"Who's there?", he asked with mild annoyance, hoping to have the bath to himself.
She stepped closer, revealing her identity.
His eyebrows shot up, eyes widening with a start.
"Fuck Granger! What the fuck-..."
He quickly rebuckled his belt as he took her in, eyes wild.
"Can a bloke not bathe in peace?! Or some fucking privacy?!"
She rolled her eyes. "I'm not here to watch you bathe Malfoy."
"Then what the fuck are you doing lurking in the shadows then?!"
"I wanted to ask you something."
"And you chose now to do that?", he scoffed.
She shrugged. "It's a delicate matter."
"Fine. Fucking what then?"
She paused, unsure of how to ask. For once, she hadn't thought that far ahead.
"Well it's more of a favour actually..."
"Spit it out", he gritted through his teeth.
"I need you to perform a blood magic ritual with me", she said in a rush.
His eyebrows threaded, unsure if he'd heard her correctly.
"What?"
She repeated herself.
"I thought that's what you said. One question. Are you fucking insane?", he said casually, arms crossed over his bare chest.
She shrugged. "Maybe."
Hermione explained her reasoning without getting too personal, putting the emphasis on the growth of her magical abilities.
"Do you know how dangerous blood magic is?", he asked with an arched brow, looking at her as if she had sprouted two more heads.
"Have you practiced it before?", she asked curiously.
He shook his head. "No, but I know of others who have. If not done properly-"
"I've done it twice by myself and managed it just fine."
"Oh then you're practically an expert Granger", he snapped sarcastically.
"You will feel the benefits of this ritual just as strongly as I will. And according to the text, the increased power and vitality should last for at least four months."
"I don't need or care about more power Granger. I'm just trying to get through this final fucking year of Hogwarts unscathed."
His comment surprised her. A small part of her thought his ego would jump at the chance to strengthen his magic.
"Why me anyway? Why not ask one of your little Gryffindor friends? I thought the Golden Trio were inseparable."
She paused, running her tongue over her teeth in thought. She settled for honesty.
"They wouldn't understand."
He scoffed. "And I do?"
"Yes", she said simply.
He looked at her then, puzzling over the request in his mind. After a moment, he seemed to come to a decision.
"Ask someone else Granger. I'm not getting involved in your little experiment."
Hermione was afraid of that answer, but had prepared for it nonetheless. She pulled out the low blow before she could change her mind.
"Is it because I'm a mudblood?"
He stood still, body rigid and eyes wide.
She knew it wasn't the reason. He hadn't called her that in nearly two years. But guilt was all she had over him. The only tool left at her disposal.
He stuttered as a red flush creeped up his neck. "That's-... I'm not even talking about this", he waved a dismissive hand.
"It is isn't it? You can't stand the thought of exchanging blood with me. The thought of my dirty blood tainting your perfect pure blood. I mean I'm branded with it now, by your family no less-"
His fist suddenly slammed against the tiles, blood staining the wall and his knuckles.
"You're such a bitch Granger!", he spat with venom, forehead resting against his bloody fist against the tiles.
She knew she had him.
"How dare you throw that in my face", he roughly whispered, still not looking at her.
She swallowed the urge to apologise. "Do the ritual and I'll never bring it up again. Never ask anything of you again."
He finally lifted his head, looking her straight in the eye before suddenly striding over to her, leaving barely an inch between them as his towering form crowded her.
She stood her ground, maintaining eye contact even though she had to slightly crane her neck upwards.
When did he get so tall?
He pointed a long slender finger at her chest, his expression cold.
"If I do the ritual, you will never speak to me again. You will not even look in my direction. Is that clear?", he seethed, hot breath fanning across her face.
She gave a curt nod, mirroring his sneer. "Agreed."