The Vampire Malfoy

Chapter Seven

Suspicious minds

Suspicion, torments my heart

Suspicion, keeps us apart

Why torture me?

Every time you hold me, I'm still not certain that you love me

Every time you kiss me, I'm still not certain that you care.

So I keep on asking, do you, really, really love me

Or do you say the same things to someone else when I'm not there? - Carl Perkins

***

Hermione glared at Harry over her bowl of porridge. He sat, completely oblivious to her inner rage, chatting happily with Parvati Patil and Seamus Finnegan. She hadn't spoken to him since the previous night, when he'd come into the common room after midnight, sweaty and dishevelled.

He'd been in an extremely good mood, and had tried to hug her, until she pushed him away, demanding to know where he'd been all evening. He'd smiled, and dropping a kiss on her nose, simply replied, "Playing Quidditch with Draco Malfoy." He hadn't noticed her obvious disbelief, and had gone straight up to bed, cheerfully calling, "Good night," over his shoulder.

Hermione seethed with rage at the memory. Quidditch with Malfoy? Did he think she was born yesterday? Surely any halfwit could come up with a better excuse than that if they were... she paused in her thoughts. No. He couldn't be cheating on her. He was Harry. She trusted him with her life- and most of all, with her heart. They'd been together for almost a year, and he loved her. He would never cheat on her. Ever.

Would he?

She looked over at where he was talking to Parvati. It was no secret that she fancied Harry. The whole school knew. It was worse than Ginny Weasley's crush. But until now she'd never considered that Harry could fancy her in return. She watched through a jealous haze as Parvati placed her hand on Harry's arm, laughing at something he'd said. Harry grinned at her, then turned and looked over to the Slytherin table. Hermione followed his gaze to where the sixth year Slytherins sat. Blaise Zabini looked up from her conversation with Draco, and winked.

Hermione fumed silently, missing the brief exchange of Malfoy glancing over, and raising his eyebrow inquisitively. Harry nodded slightly, then turned back to his bacon and eggs.

Hermione slammed her spoon down into the bowl, earning her a number of strange looks from surrounding students.

Blaise Zabini! That red haired trollop! Harry couldn't possibly be... not with her!

She glared at her boyfriend, who gave her a dazzling smile.

Hermione stood up, knocking Neville over as she stormed from the Great Hall.

Harry turned to Ron, who was working his way through his breakfast, and gave him a questioning look.

Ron shrugged. "PMT?" he suggested through a mouthful of kippers.

Harry nodded in agreement, wiping flakes of fish from where Ron had sprayed him.

"Women," they said simultaneously, shaking their heads.

***

A few weeks later Ron was sitting in a corner of the common room, enjoying a good chuckle. The copy of Marvin Miggs, the Mad Muggle comic he had hidden inside the covers of PlayWizard magazine, so as not to hurt his reputation, was proving to be highly amusing. So he was none too impressed when Hermione snatched the comic from his hands and glared at him accusingly.

"What do you know?" she demanded menacingly.

Ron looked at her, bewildered. "Well, not an awful lot really. That's why I only got a handful of O.W.L's--" he began, but Hermione cut him off.

"You must know something! He's sure to have told you!"

Ron leaned back in the chair. "Now, calm down, Hermione. I want you to take a deep breath, count to ten and tell me what's wrong," he said, in a slightly soothing manner.

Hermione took a deep breath, counted to one, and grabbed him by the collar.

"Harry," she snarled at her best friend, "is cheating on me."

She let him go, and Ron fell back down into his chair.

"Don't be silly, Hermione," he said, straightening his robes. "Harry would never do that."

Hermione sat down, twisting her hair nervously. "He's out every night. He comes back completely dishevelled and sweaty, and exhausted, and won't give me a straight answer to where he's been."

Ron thought for a minute, then shrugged. "He wouldn't cheat on you, Hermione," he said with conviction. "I know him. You know him. He isn't like that. Besides," he added with a smile, "he knows that if he did, I'd kick his arse!"

Hermione grinned, and punched him playfully on the shoulder.

"Thanks, Ron," she sighed. "I just wish I knew where he went at night."

Ron snatched back his comic, flipping it open.

"Well," he said, over the top of the magazine, "you could always follow him and find out."

Hermione smiled.