Tastes the Sweetest

Part Two

Some nice changes in this chapter compared to the original 🥰

Trigger Warning: some allusions to what Fenrir could have done to her if the torture scene in the Manor had gotten that far. Draco pulls Hermione's hair and it hurts, and she pleads for him to stop.
ooo

Hermione's irritated glare cut through a shower of orange lights.

Malfoy looked as normal as ever—if one could call him sitting amongst his friends at the Slytherin table with a surly expression on his face normal. She supposed it was his normal. The only time she saw him crack a smile was when he was giving her Hell.

She didn't know if that was a good or bad thing.

Even though she'd healed her hand and cleared it of blood, she could still see the crazed look in his eyes as if they were back in the classroom. Hermione had faced death down quite a few times in her life. She was so certain that he wanted to slaughter her that she had no desire to eat.

She decided to glare at him instead.

What was he hiding?

Dean strolled into her line of sight, blocking her view of the Slytherins and filling it with a hopeful grin.

"Did you think about it yet?" he asked.

She jolted, unaware that she had become so completely absorbed by her theorizing that she hadn't realized how loud it was in the Great Hall. All Hallow's had apparently given the castle a pinch of excitement. Almost everyone was deep in anticipatory conversation about parties, sweets, and ghosts.

"Huh?" she said, focusing on Dean in spite of the way the noise hurt her ears and skin. "Oh...Right. Well, I suppose."

"You suppose you can manage the catering?" He pumped his fist in the air. "Ace, Hermione! I'll go tell Pansy!"

"What?" Realization slammed into her. "Wait, I haven't...never mind."

Dean was already dashing across the Great Hall to the Slytherin table. Hermione watched him telling Pansy Parkinson the good news with enthusiasm. A large amount of Slytherins were staring up at him and when he pointed over at her, they all turned their gazes.

Hermione grimaced and squirmed in her seat. How annoying. She didn't like to be stared at.

Especially when Malfoy was one of the ones doing the staring.

Feeling both frustrated and awkward, she pushed a few of her box braids behind her ears, ducked her head down, and took a bite of her pasta. Oh, bother. It tasted dry and bland. This stupid holiday was turning out to be a lot worse than she'd originally thought it would be.

Dean jogged back over.

"Pansy's ecstatic," he said, smiling as he slid into the bench across from her. "And Malfoy said he's gonna help you."

Hermione's fork froze in midair and her eyes snapped up to meet Dean's.

"Excuse me?"

Dean started plating himself some food, happy as can be as he detailed her demise.

"Oh, yeah. So, the plan is to ask the House Elves—and I know you might detest that—but when Pansy asked before, they said no. Malfoy told me that the Hogwarts elves—who are employed and properly compensated! Keep that in mind—can be quite finicky now, and they like to be gifted things."

Hermione frowned. "And how does he know that?"

Dean tucked into his food and spoke to her around a mouthful. "Apparently, he goes down there at night sometimes and they give him snacks. He says that they don't like doing anything for free anymore."