Devil In His Own Way

THE GAME HOUSE

Hermione nearly overslept the next morning. She'd gone to bed thinking about Theodore and how fingers had known precisely how to make fireworks shoot off in her head. But, in her dreams, it was Malfoy leaving trails of blazing hot kisses across her skin. Hermione had woken up a couple of times, gasping out his name. She hadn't done that in years, and even then, it had been for vastly different reasons. And she hadn't been gasping--she'd been screaming.

She pulled herself from her bed at 10:50, yanking on a t-shirt and sweatpants as quickly as possible. Hermione brushed her teeth in forty-five seconds flat and tried not to run as she made her way across the property. Hermione didn't realize that she'd forgotten her shoes until she stepped into the dining room, the wooden floor cold on the bottoms of her feet.

Fortunately, only Pansy, Alice, Callista, Leona, and Kiara were seated at the table. Hermione hovered by the door for a moment, unsure of where to sit.

"There's coffee, tea, and juice over there," Pansy pointed to a table beneath the window. "Help yourself. Food will be served when Draco arrives."

Hermione nodded and poured herself a cup of tea, adding a splash of milk and a few spoonfuls of sugar. She turned to face the dining table and pursed her lips. Alice tapped on the chair that she'd sat in the night before for dinner, and Hermione took her seat quickly.

"What products do you use on your face?" Alice asked, staring intently at Hermione. Her chin rested in her hand, her blue eyes scanning Hermione's face. "Your skin is gorgeous."

"Um," Hermione chewed on her bottom lip. "I don't?"

She hadn't meant for it to come out as a question. Hermione was never the kind of witch to worry about facial potions and charms to keep the acne at bay. It was never something that she'd struggled with, so the thought had never occurred to her.

"I'm jealous," Alice let out a small sigh. "I spend nearly thirty minutes a day on my skin, and it's still splotchy."

Footsteps approached from the hallway, and Hermione could barely contain the blush on her cheeks as Theodore stepped into the room. His hair was disheveled, chaotic strands sticking up at odd angles. He yawned as he took his seat, a smile forming when his eyes landed on Hermione.

"Morning girls," he said. Theodore's voice had a kind of sing-song lilt to it like he was moments away from breaking into a musical routine. "Morning, Hermione."

"Morning." All six of the girls responded in unison, their voices all carrying the same half-awake tone. Hermione wasn't hungover thank Godrick, but she was feeling a million other things. Rather than a pounding headache, the image of Theodore sitting there shirtless was causing her stomach to flutter. Instead of wanting to throw up, she wanted to jump into the pool and cool herself off.

No one verbally acknowledged Theodore singling Hermione out. Leona and Kiara seemed the most out of it, their eyes barely open. Both girls sat with their knees pulled up to their chests in their seats. Callista looked tired. Alice appeared radiant as always.

Pansy shot a side-long glance in Hermione's direction but didn't say anything. Hermione wasn't sure if the look on her face had kept Pansy's lips shut, or if the witch was planning a speech for when they were alone.

Did Pansy know? Was Pansy upset with her?

Malfoy entered the room then, rubbing at his temples. He sat slowly in the chair, directly opposite Hermione, his legs sprawling out before him. He was wearing the same clothing as the night before. Malfoy's muscles flexed with every breath that he took, and Hermione couldn't help but stare. Between Malfoy and Theodore, she was going to combust.