Despicable Souls

Chapter 3

Hermione,

This new guy is going to get himself killed. I'm sorry for the delay in seeing you.

Why don't I need an explanation to where you've been? Because you're you. As soon as you found out you had matched with us, you researched as much you could about soulbonds.

Everything would bring you to the conclusion that our magical signatures are meant for each other. In mind and spirit. This isn't some nonsense being foretold in the tea leaves. This is real.

We are real, dragul meu.

What are your favorite sweets?

Charlie

He helped her feel whole and sane. He knew her better than she knew herself at times.

It would be easy to fall for Charlie.

The only reason she continued to talk to him was that he was safely residing in a dragon sanctuary in another country. She would hopefully be gone by the time he finished training his replacement.

Charlie,

Your kindness helps during the hard days.

Zabini thinks I'm a slag, I haven't seen Nott since I arrived, and Malfoy is bloody Malfoy. They have come to their own conclusions but it's better this way since I can't soulbond with them.

I can't with you either.

My favorite sweets are sugar quills.

Hermione

After sending off her reply, she fell back onto her mattress with a relieved sigh.

The week was finally over.

Zabini had been relentless with her fitness regimen, allowing only one afternoon of rest and that was to clean the training room and locker rooms.

Without magic.

Not that she was opposed to cleaning the Muggle way, but she felt her time could have been better spent cultivating and prepping ingredients for potions or getting a refresher in hand-to-hand combat.

She needed to find a job that would actually pay her since her soulbonds seemed to be under the delusional assumption that she didn't need the galleons.

What about clothes? She could only wash her Academy robes so many times and she wasn't about to go into Diagon Alley wearing her "Pete's Diner" t-shirt.

Perhaps she had forgotten money in her vault at Gringotts? With her childish curfew, there had been no time to stop and see... but that could be done tomorrow.

Hermione sat up at the sound of a knock on her door.

For fuck sakes, Zabini.

Not wanting to make barging in without permission a habit, she loudly groaned and went to the door.

However it was not Zabini on the other side but Malfoy. Someone she'd been avoiding all bloody week.

There was something about his silver eyes made her occulmency walls tremble despite its infallible security.

Her magic was desperate to reach him and the feeling was a constant ache.

"Can I help you, Minister?" she asked wearily, cracking the door ever slightly.