Scarlet Woman

Hermione pushed Ron into the wall, her mouth on his. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer –

"Stop." He pushed her away.

Hermione looked hurt. "Ron-"

"No. You’re still with Krum." He folded his arms. "Much as I would like to snog with you, ’Mione, I do have a conscience. Does the word ‘loyalty’ have any meaning to you?"

Hermione sighed, and looked at the floor. "I broke up with him. Or, rather, he broke up with me. It happened months ago. He thinks we’re better off just friends."

Ron tapped his toe. "Uh huh. And I’m supposed to believe this? You haven’t been the most trustworthy person lately."

Hermione gaped at her friend, shocked. "Ron, I would never lie to you about something like that!"

Ron merely settled his cold gaze upon her. "Oh, really? That’s what you said the last time." He turned on his heel and walked up the staircase towards his dorm. "You’ve changed, Hermione, you’ve changed."

Hermione watched him leave the Gryffindor common room, now alone. Was it something she’d said? She sighed and collapsed into one of the overstuffed chairs by the fireplace, absently stroking the arm. She knew what it was, of course. You’ve changed, Hermione, you’ve changed. His parting words echoed back at her, only making her more miserable. She had changed, really. Ron was in love with the old Hermione, not the person she was now. He was in love with the sensible bookworm with a good heart, not the reckless, self-confident, loose Hermione she was now. Yes, she had changed…

"Loosen up, Hermione."

Those were the words that had changed her. Maybe it was for the good, she didn’t know. Viktor had said those words, in fact, right before he’d kissed her. She smiled, remembering. He’d finally gotten her name right.

"You need to relax, Hermione. Stop thinking about vork, do vot you feel like doing, just anything. Don’t think about vot other people might vant or think about you, just be yourself."

He was so sweet. The first guy she’d ever met who saw her as a woman, not just as ‘one of the guys’. They’d been together for two years before parting ways – they’d both decided it was for the better, and a distance relationship was always better between friends. Hermione thought of him as a sort of close penpal, these days.

She sighed and picked up her Arithmancy book, which had been leaning against the side of the chair. Hermione opened it to her present spot, smoothing out the creases of the long-used book. It was still her favorite subject – numbers always made sense. They seemed to relax her, take away all the aches and pains of the day as she pored over complicated number charts and diagrams.

Well, Hermione knew what was bothering Ron. Ever since her and Viktor had separated, she’d been… drifting. More precisely, He was commenting on the fact that he’d seen her snogging with Harry just a week and a half ago, made worse by the fact that they were both very bad liars.

The fire burned out, and rather than send for a House-Elf to light it (she still had reservations about them) she piled some wood and old newspaper on it herself. One particular article in an old copy of Witch Weekly caught her eye.

HARRY POTTER’S SECRET HEARTACHE

A boy like no other, perhaps…Harry Potter thought he had found solace in his steady girlfriends at Hogwarts, Muggle-born Hermione Granger…seems to have a taste for famous wizards…toying with boy’s affections…she’d be well up to making a Love Potion…bestows his heart upon a worthier candidate.

Toying with boys’ affections. Black Widow. Player.

Scarlet Woman.

She laughed, an empty, hollow sound, at the very term that Ron had said his mother used. The Queen of Hearts strikes again. Hermione thought wryly. The latest name on the long list of my conquests. Is this who I am? When Viktor told me to act like myself, not like people expected me to act, did I show my true colors? Of course not, she scolded herself. But…

Toying with boys’ affections. And she liked it.

She liked the feeling of power she had when a boy would follow her every whim, when she had thoroughly convinced him that she was his hearts’ desire, that she could grant his every wish. That feeling that he would do anything, anything she asked of him, simply because she was ‘his’ Hermione… she cut off that train of thought. What was she thinking? How could she toy with a person like that! It was… cruel. Sneaky. Deceitful.

But how could she help it if boys fell in love with her all the time? She was Head Girl, pretty, kind, and had charisma like no other. How could someone not love Hermione Granger?

* * * * *

"Harry…" Hermione said between his kisses, running her hands up and down his chest underneath his shirt.

Suddenly he stopped. "Herm," he said, "We’ve got to go. Potions next, remember?"

Hermione glanced down at her timetable, which was on the floor with her schoolbooks, and bit back a curse. Rebuttoning the top three buttons on her robes, she scooped up her things and raced down the hall, down the staircase toward the dungeons. If they were late, not only would she have to endure Snape’s sarcasm and have points docked, she’d probably get knowing looks and winks from both Slytherins and Gryffindors for the next three weeks.

She had just sat herself in a table with Harry when Professor Snape walked in and class started.

"Today we are going to work on one of the most advanced potions you’ll have to learn. You can be sure this will be on the NEWTs." Snape paced back and forth. "Veritaserum. The weakest version, of course, I doubt a single one of you – no, not even you, Miss Granger – could manage anything stronger. Most can resist it, and unlike the true version, an overdose will do you no harm. You begin with…" he began to list ingredients and how to put them together.

Near the end of the class, Hermione looked at her potion. It was sort of a milky white – true Veritaserum was perfectly clear. She peered over at Harry’s cauldron – his was a bit whiter.

"Mr. Longbottom," Snape hissed as he bent over Neville’s cauldron, "Isn’t this particular potion supposed to be white? Did I not specifically say that you add the Extract of Ghenna after the potion comes to a boil?"

Neville looked down at the floor. His potion was… well, orange. It looked like an orangey-yellow liquid half-dissolved in a perfectly clear one, rather like a lava lamp. He wasn’t as abysmal as he used to be – he had a bit more confidence, now, but he never ceased to mess up his potions.

Snape stuck a small vial into the liquid and brought it out, full. "Since you seem to be completely incapable of getting what you were supposed to make, let’s see what you did. I highly doubt it is poison, but you never know."

The implications finally sank in as Neville was dragged up to the front of the room.

"Bottom up, Longbottom," Snape said wickedly and handed Neville the vial.

Nervously, Neville screwed his eyes up tight and downed the whole thing in one swallow.

Oh! It was so… strange! He felt like he was floating, floating on air. All around him were orange clouds, orange clouds on a clear sky.

Neville opened his mouth. Here, in this marvelous place, everyone was happy! If he told them all his deepest secrets, they’d all understand!

"I have a crush on Parvati Patil!" he blurted. "I was the one who started that rumor about Pansy Parkinson working as a lapdancer in the holidays! She’d left her journal on the table after class, and I read everything in it, cover to cover! I know that Vincent Crabbe is gay, and I was the one who dropped the firecracker in Draco’s potion two weeks ago! I’m still afraid of the dark, and I sleep with a teddy bear named Bobo, and I –"

"That’s quite enough, Mr. Longbottom," Snape said, amused. "We don’t want you revealing your deepest, darkest secrets to everyone in the class, now, do we?" Neville nodded dazedly and wobbled back to his seat.

"Psst! Neville!" Ron whispered from behind. "What did you put in that potion??" he asked.

Neville recited perfectly what he had done, as if in trance, and Ron scribbled it all down with glee.

Hermione stayed a few minutes after class to finish copying some notes, and was about to leave when she saw Draco Malfoy arguing with Pansy Parkinson at the door.

"I’m not going to let you leave until you apologize." Pansy said stubbornly.

"Apologize for what?" Draco snorted. "You heard the guy, Longbottom started the rumor, and hey, it’s not his fault it’s true-" he ducked a slap from Pansy.

"You’re so mean!" she said tearfully. "First you dump me, humiliatingly and publicly-"

"Actually, Pansy, you dumped me, and it was actually quite a relief-"

"Shut up!" Pansy said, stomping her foot. "I might have been nice, but no, you just had to be mean!" she started to slam the door shut as Draco began a hex, but it was too late. She’d locked them in.

After a moment, Draco muttered "Alohomor-" he never even said the last letter as he was blasted back three feet. "Damn her." He tried a few other spells, all of them drew blanks.

"Crap!" he kicked the door, hard, but it didn’t receive so much as a dent. He sat down for a moment, then tried again – this time, he tried cursing the door open, with everything from lighting it on fire to disintegrating it to powder, but to no avail. The door held.

"It’s no use," Draco heard a voice from behind him, and turned around to face Hermione. "Snape spells all his doors against magic so that kids don’t come in and steal his ingredients. Suspicious little bastard, isn’t he? It seems they work from the inside as well."

"I didn’t ask for your input, Granger," Draco sneered. The he made a face. "There isn’t any other way out?"

Hermione wasn’t sure to be smug or pissed. "Nope. So now I’m stuck with you until Snape gets back. Just great." She sighed, and plopped back down on the nearest table.

"Well, he’ll be back soon, right?" Draco asked. "I mean, he’s still got classes… oh shit." That was when Draco realized that the seventh year Gryffs and Slyths were Snape’s last class of the day. "Someone might hear our screams?" Draco said weakly.

Hermione began leafing through her textbooks. "Do you know any spells that might get us out? Like maybe something that could summon someone you know?"

"Even if I did I wouldn’t help you, Mu-"

Suddenly Hermione stood up and slapped him hard across the cheek. "Shut up, Malfoy. I don’t have to deal with your crap. Harry can put up with it, but I’m sick of it. You hear me? I’m sick of your whining about every teacher except Snape. I’m sick of you showing off your fifty-Galleon name-brand robes. I’m sick of you boasting to everyone how rich your father is. But most of all I’m sick of how you think somehow that you’re better than me just because I’m from a Muggle family. If you’re so hyped up about bloodlines, Malfoy, go back to the Dark Ages when it really makes a difference." She slammed her book on the table in front of her and put her feet up in a very un-Hermione like gesture, staring straight ahead with a glare that could bore holes.

Draco just stood there, staring at her. He put a hand up to the red handprint-shaped mark on his cheek, just feeling it sting. That was what shocked him.

She’d slapped him before, sure, plenty of times. Hermione was one of the few people who could do it and return alive. But the way she spoke… she seemed so sure of herself, so confident. She wasn’t that book-obsessed teachers’ pet she used to be. She’d changed. You’ve changed, Hermione, you’ve changed…he only realized he’d spoken his thoughts out loud when he closed his mouth.

Hermione gave him a bitter smile. "Deja-vu. You know, Ron said the exact same thing to me yesterday. Is that a good thing, or a bad thing?"

Draco opened his mouth to voice some sarcastic remark, then shut it again. Something about what she said just… rang a bell. Struck a chord. Hit a nerve. Something.

Draco sat in a comfortable chair beside the fireplace, The Daily Prophet it his hands. He was reading the latest article…

YOU-KNOW-WHO RETURNS

The wizarding world has been thrown into panic at the untimely events at the Triwizard Tournament in June…one Cedric Diggory, fifth year at Hogwarts, killed…number of loyal Death Eaters unknown…

Lucius Malfoy walked into the room and saw what his son was reading. "Give me the paper." Draco handed him the paper as his father read the article with a faint smile on his lips, "Fools." He threw the paper down on his son’s lap, about to exit the room.

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" Draco mused under his breath.

His father heard anyway. He said nothing – only gave his son a hard, calculating look, and strode briskly out of the room.

Draco shuddered, remembering. He’d seen Cedric Diggory’s body. He’d seen the Death Eaters rejoicing over the Dark Lord’s rise. Some part of him had enjoyed it, reveled in the rise of his lord and master, and awaited the day when he could serve… but another part of him, small, insignificant… no! Not insignificant… had cried out, had been repulsed, had said this is wrong, look at him, how can you live with yourself every day when you know so much wrong has been done…

Draco shrugged, and sat down at the table beside Hermione’s. "We can’t be down here long. Your boyfriends will come looking for you, right?"

Hermione grimaced. "Not exactly. Ron is pissed off at me and doesn’t want to see my face for a week, and Harry has two overdue Transfiguration assignments and three overdue for Divination, plus his History of Magic homework. That’ll keep him busy for a while."

For a while they just sat there, in silence. Hermione took the spare time to do her Potions homework, and was halfway through her Charms as well when Draco spoke.

"You don’t know anything that will get us out of here? I’m freezing cold."

Hermione shook her head. "All the spells I could find involved having a piece of the person you want to call with you – like hair, saliva, toenail clippings, etcetera."

"Oh." Draco went back to tapping his quill on the table – it was a tricky game of coordination. You tap the quill between each of your splayed fingers in turn, then outside of them, going faster and faster and closer towards the center. It’s harder than it looks – Draco had got going pretty fast when Hermione broke the silence.

"Malfoy," she said, and he painfully jabbed the quill into his index finger.

"What do you want?" she sucked on his finger.

"If you’re creating a Assinger’s Web, do you multiply or divide the negative numbers in the third quadrant?"

"Depends. If you’ve got an odd number in the center, multiply, if it’s even, divide."

"Thanks."

Draco stopped sucking his finger. "It’s the same principle as the Prometheus cube, only you don’t square the fourth product."

"You seem to know a lot about Arithmancy.’ Hermione said, nibbling on the end of her quill.

Draco shrugged. ‘It’s easy. Logical. Once you know the patterns, it all falls into place."

"I know! Harry and Ron are always saying is so complicated, but really, it’s not, they just don’t understand-" she stopped, and blushed. "Sorry."

Draco snorted. "Sorry for what? Sorry for the fact that your little string of boyfriends have about as much brains between them as a house fly?"

"Harry is not-"

"Sticking up for Potter, eh? I heard he’s been using you as a bedwarmer for the past month and a half."

"Why? You jealous?" Hermione shot back. Draco said nothing, and Hermione went back to her work. She could help but be distracted all through her History of Magic essay by Draco’s profile. She kept glancing back at him – God, he’s got nice hands. Long fingers, smooth skin. Nice chin, too. Rather pointed without being too feminine. Nice lips…she stopped that train of thought before it had even begun. She sighed to herself – I’ve finally found the one guy who hasn’t fallen head over heels in love with me, and I’m more attracted to him than to any guy who actually likes me. Is it just me, or is that irony at its best? Then she grimaced. What am I thinking! For crying out loud, Draco Malfoy! Harry would choke! Neville would faint! Ron would go into convulsions!

Hermione Granger, you’ve finally lost it. You’re absolutely bonkers. Lost your marbles. Not dealing with a full deck. A few fries short of a Happy Meal. In short, you’re nuts.

Draco got out his Transfigurations homework and whipped through it. "Granger, if you think I’m that sexy then why don’t you just stare at me instead of taking sneak peeks? You can get more in one shot."

Hermione blushed and stopped staring at him. See? That’s what you get for falling for an ass like him. I’d rather date Lockhart than him. I’d rather date Snape than – no, that’s going too far. Snape in is underpants I something I just do not want to contemplate.

Draco slamed down his quill and stared at the paper. This was a mess! He’d better say bye-bye to his Charms mark, it was sure as hell going down the drain! He felt a presence by his shoulder and looked up to see Hermione.

"The Attraction Charm works best by night, not by day." She said, and pointed out the rest of his mistakes.

But right now Draco was receiving the full force of Attraction Charm, and no wands were involved. Sure, he’d thought she was pretty before, and she had brains, and the wits to use them, and she was charming, and funny, and – OK, OK, he said to himself. I give in. Let’s go with plan A.

Draco surged up and turned around, wrapped his hands behind Hermione’s neck and kissed her.

Hermiones’ eyes opened in shock. She’d definitely not been expecting this! But hey, why rock the boat, and Draco was a great kisser.

"Is anybody in here?" Someone threw open the door to the potions lab to see Hermione with her back on a table, Draco Malfoy on top of her, kissing passionately.

"Eep." Harry said quietly.

Hermione whipped herself up and face Harry, hair in a disarray and the first four buttons of her robes undone. "This isn’t what it looks like, really." She squeaked.

Harry blinked. "So you were not snogging Draco Malfoy in the empty Potions classroom. I did not come in here."

"That is correct."

Harry turned to leave. "Wait a minute – " Hermione asked. "How did you get in here?"

Harry blinked again. "I opened the door."

"It wasn’t locked?"

"No. Why?"

Hermione turned to glare at Draco, who was grinning sheepishly back at her.