Devil In His Own Way

PANSY IS A BADASS

It was four in the morning when someone knocked on Hermione's door. She laid in her bed, staring up at the ceiling. If it was Alice coming to cry over Malfoy doing something ridiculous, she wasn't in the mood for it. She hadn't even been able to fall asleep; there was no way she could even pretend to care about Alice's troubles. Her body was buzzing with Theodore, but her mind flashed images of blond hair and low-hanging satin pants.

When she didn't answer, there was another set of knocks. Hermione pulled the blankets over her head, curling herself into a ball. The knocking took up a continuous banging, not stopping until she pulled herself up.

"I'm bloody coming!" she yelled, rubbing at her eyes as she padded her way to the door. She opened it without checking, which she regretted. Malfoy was standing in front of her, looking flustered. Somehow the green satin pants had managed to slide lower, barely clinging to his hips. Hermione's throat ran dry, and she fought to keep her composure.

"Sorry," he said, his voice quieter than it had been hours before. He seemed less alert, perhaps even half-asleep. "I. Um. Pansy sent me here to apologize."

Of course, Pansy had to send him--he couldn't just apologize on his own. Whether it was the truth or a lie, it was hogwash. Hermione rolled her eyes and attempted to close the door, but his hand came out to block it. She pulled it open again and gave him the best get-the-hell-away-from-me look that she could muster.

"Well, tell Pansy I accept. Now, if you'll excuse me--"

"Granger-- Hermione ," he sighed, his arms dropping to his sides. "I was an ass earlier. And I recognize that now."

"You do?" Hermione crossed her arms over her chest. She felt like a teacher scolding an eleven-year-old.

"Can I come in?"

"I'd prefer if you didn't."

Her words hung between them, building up a wall. Malfoy seemed resigned to her statement and nodded slowly. He cleared his throat.

"I understand that we don't know each other that well," he started, speaking slowly. Hermione could tell that each word was filtered as it left his mouth; he carefully selected his words. "And I understand it's not clear why I invited you here."

"Of course it isn't," Hermione scoffed. "You invited me of all people to a place like this? And then got mad when I participated? What? Did you want me to police the party instead? Keep everyone six inches apart from each other?"

"I'm not mad that you're participating ," the word ground out of his mouth like he was chewing on glass. "I'm mad about who you're participating with. And, mad isn't the proper word."

"Why does it matter who I participate with?"

Malfoy, what the hell are you doing? She screamed the words inside her mind, her eyes searching his face for any indication of his emotions. All she could find was offense with a sprinkle of--sadness? Distress?

Instead of answering her question, Malfoy just stared at her. Hermione didn't know how long they stood like that, with Hermione's hands still on the door and Malfoy's fidgeting awkwardly at his sides. He opened his mouth to speak and then closed it.

Then, Malfoy was walking away from her. Rather than his usual, easy-going walk, he half-sprinted back to the mansion. Within seconds he was gone from view, and moments after that, she heard a door slam shut. Sighing, Hermione closed the door and made her way back to bed. She still had six hours until she had to be up for breakfast, and she was going to try and make the most of them.

__________

Malfoy didn't show for breakfast. Neither did Theodore. Hermione sat in her seat, stirring her tea until the sugar was beyond dissolved. It was curious that neither had shown. Surely, she thought that one of two things would happen. One: Theodore would trot into the room, a shit-eating grin on his face while Malfoy wallowed in his hangover behind his bedroom doors. Two: Malfoy would saunter into the room, pretending that Hermione wasn't there, buttering his toast while Theodore got shipped off to the hospital.