Prince of snakes | Dramione

Chapter 11

Hermione had returned to the fold, to the same dreary atmosphere where Draco and she were supposed to hate each other and not speak. She found it all childish. While the Slytherin excelled in his efforts to immerse himself in deep denial about what had happened, Hermione herself was struggling. She couldn't stop thinking about him and their kiss, filled with that incandescent passion. Why was he acting as if they didn't know each other? Was he filled with that immoral fear of attachment, or was it something else? These inner questions brought her no answers, and it was inconceivable for her to continue in this direction with him. Not when they had exchanged such words the night before.

Yet, in the early morning, as she headed towards the bathroom, Malfoy barely glanced at her, his chest still dripping with water droplets. He ignored her with such astonishing force that it was painful. Hermione gritted her teeth, pretending to be indifferent. But what a lie. She couldn't ignore the pang in the depths of her chest, nor the acceleration of her heartbeat as she looked at his face, trying to understand what could be hidden behind that steel shell he seemed to wear on every occasion. Was there ever a moment when he felt free to express his emotions, to show vulnerability? Or was he like that only with her?

Carefully dusting off her black pleated skirt that reached mid-thigh, she put on long stockings and tied her hair, forming a loose bun with pencils. Looking at herself in the mirror, she let her caramel-colored eyes wander over her face. She had regained color, her cheeks tinged with a bright pink hue. Her eyes sparkled with fervor, brimming with life. Draco had restored this radiance long lost, and clenching her fists until her knuckles turned white, she thought it was surely an illusion. He couldn't have so much power over her. Over her soul.

Chin raised in false determination, she unbuttoned her shirt, revealing the beginning of her chest. The black lace she glimpsed contrasted with the whiteness of her top. As she ran her fingers over the soft fabric, she found herself imagining another hand, and her erratic breath took shape again. For God's sake, she thought. Couldn't he leave her alone?

Exhaling with exasperation, she grabbed her book on Occult Transformations of the Magical World and headed briskly towards the Great Hall, where her classmates were waiting, a innocent smile playing on her lips, unaware of the thoughts of the young Gryffindor. Hermione caught a glimpse of the Slytherin table out of the corner of her eye. Malfoy was chatting quietly with Theodore, and he nodded at her arrival, giving her a benevolent nod. She found herself smiling back at him. Nott could be a real idiot and a rebel at heart. But she saw his good side, especially when he had defended her a few hours earlier. Blaise was exchanging hearty handshakes, laughing heartily with a friend.

Hermione had barely placed her butt against the Gryffindor bench when a head with short black locks darted in her direction. She held her breath at the sight of the newcomer. With sharp and surprisingly mocking eyes, Pansy Parkinson hissed her name in a singsong voice. Hermione didn't move, simply staring at her with curiosity. Harry, facing her, had lost his spoon in shock. Ginny gave the young Gryffindor such a hateful look that she swallowed hard. Why was Ginny mad at her? Hermione didn't know any more than her friends the reason for the Slytherin's visit to their table. And it wasn't just a silly party that was going to make a difference, she grumbled, forcing herself to lower her eyes to her plate, avoiding her best friend's glances in the process.

"What's going on?" he whispered, casting not-so-subtle glances at Pansy, who was coming in like a tornado.

She shrugged, swallowing her pumpkin juice with difficulty. Good Lord, she grimaced. She didn't even know why she kept drinking this filth. She hated it. Grumbling against the whole world under her breath, she wanted to bury herself underground. She was embarrassed. She had let out one of her biggest secrets to her former enemies. And she felt almost no remorse. Almost.