A Slither and A Pounce

Chapter 13

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It wasn't completely unexpected, is what Hermione reasoned afterwards. She had awakened from the sound of a soft clatter with a jump. Suddenly her blood was pumping rapidly and all she could hear was the ringing alarm of "DANGER. DANGER. DANGER." It took her moments to reach for her wand and whip herself from bed.

Then her eyes opened.

Malfoy was holding his toothbrush in his mouth, looking very startled and a fair bit concerned (not a look she thought she would ever see directed at her). He was standing partially in the doorway between his bed and the bathroom, a white towel slung over his shoulder and his wand in hand. For one terrifying second, Hermione was certain he was going to send a cruciatus curse her way. Her jaw locked and her muscles tensed sharply. Every fiber of her being was prepared for the pain. Holding. Holding and waiting for it.

It never came. Rather, Malfoy set his wand down gently on his bedside table, holding both of his hands up in a mock surrender (toothbrush still stuck in his mouth), and moved back into the bathroom.

Feeling a mixture of unchecked anxiety and adrenaline, Hermione sat up and took a long breath. In for 1... 2... 3... and hold. Now out for 1... 2... 3...

It must have been a wandless summoning charm that woke her... the faint click of the wand being summoned from her bedside having been too close for comfort. Groaning in a mixture of embarrassment and frustration, Hermione dragged a hand over her face and sighed. Her PTSD from last year was getting worse by the day. Almost as if her body couldn't understand that it's failure to detect danger was representative of no danger, and instead it was a sign of her not trying hard enough to find the danger.

Figuring that now that she was awake she might as well get up, Hermione opened her trunk and searched for suitable clothes. It was Saturday so she could forgo the need of a uniform in place of some jeans and a sweater. She picked them out and hid the undergarments in the folds of sweater and pants. She had no clue as to why she felt ashamed of the chance that Malfoy might see her undergarments (despite them not even being on her), but she didn't question it.

Malfoy got out of the loo looking fixed and perfect as ever. His hair was fixed in a casual and charming mess, he was dressed in smart black trousers and a casual white button-up. He threw his towel on his bed and rolled his sleeves up to mid-elbow.

The Dark Mark on his forearm was nowhere to be seen.

Hermione must have let out a small gasp because Malfoy whipped around to look at her in surprise. His eyes followed hers for a second before finding the reason for her shock. His cheeks flushed but his eyebrows rose and he let out a huff, "Really Granger... you think I enjoy displaying it wherever I go? It's just a glamor spell." Pointing his wand at his forearm Malfoy muttered, "signum revelare." Instantly, the mark appeared, as though a wipe had taken off the paint covering it.

Hermione breathed out in relief. "I didn't realize it could be glamored." She said truthfully. Malfoy shrugged, muttering, "Signum recondunt," swiftly concealing the mark again.

"It took me a while to find one that worked. It doesn't work with the usual glamor spells." He admitted.

Hermione nodded her head and instantly felt awkward, "I haven't even thought about hiding mine..." She didn't mean to say her thoughts out loud... but then again she hadn't had her morning tea and her brain seemed to be working at half-capacity. She mindlessly traced the marks on her forearm, feeling the ridges of the white scar tissue and wondered if the knife Bellatrix had used was cursed, and if she would need a specific glamour charm for her scars too.