Snakepit

Chapter 11

Hermione twirled a pencil around her finger as she stared off into space. With a frown, she wrote something down on a piece of paper already crowded with writing.

The whole morning, she had been trying to piece together information based on what Draco had told her. It wasn't easy work, and she wasn't even sure what she was trying to figure out. Well, okay, she wanted to figure out who his fiance was. Hermione had told him, or at least implied, that she wouldn't meddle in his business, but she couldn't help herself. She knew that he was legitimately trying to solve this case, and fast, but Draco himself had become a new mystery for her to solve.

Hermione couldn't pin down exactly why she was doing it. Yesterday, Saturday, she hadn't texted Draco at all and hadn't gotten anything from him either. She wasn't sure where they stood. When he drove her home on Friday night, their conversations had flowed well and had felt relatively normal, but the longer she stayed away from him, the less certain she became about their...friendship. It made her feel anxious and on-edge. She barely had an appetite and couldn't stop glancing at her phone. Every notification she received had her lunging for it only to be disappointed when it wasn't him.

To make matters worse, Ron had been texting her nonstop and she didn't know what to do about it. Last week, when she had felt giddy and excited by him, seemed like a distant memory now. He wasn't horrible...he just wasn't right for her. Still though, she halfheartedly wondered if entertaining him would get her to stop thinking about Draco.

As if on queue, her phone chimed and a text from Ron lit up the screen.

"I know you said you're busy...but do you want to grab dinner later? Or we could just take a walk. Whatever you want. :)"

Hermione took a deep breath, resting her forehead on her coffee table.

"I don't know what to do," she grumbled to herself. She wished that she had some friend who wasn't also her colleague at work to talk to. She wanted to tell Dean and Luna about what had happened between her and Draco (minus his actual predicament), but she didn't want people at work to know. Both of her friends had loud voices and talked a lot and she feared that she would be in big trouble with Rick if anyone found out about the kiss. Plus, Draco was engaged. It was all just a fucking shitshow and Hermione had no one to consult for help.

Hermione loved being self-reliant and independent. She was incredibly proud of everything she had accomplished on her own. But...but lately she had let Draco burden some of the weight she normally carried and it didn't feel as horrible as she had expected it to. All of a sudden, she felt a sense of comradery, of friendship, and she realized that she didn't want to lose it. She looked forward to seeing him. She liked the way he held the door for her and the way that he was so insistent and pushy when he took care of her.

Hermione lifted her head from the table. He took care of her. Multiple times. When she nearly passed out, he had gently nursed her back to health. When she had gotten drunk at the club, he hadn't left her alone. He had gotten her waters and helped her relax when she was overwhelmed. He had driven her home and tucked her into bed. He was attentive and much kinder than she gave him credit for.

She didn't want to consult just anyone for help...she wanted to talk to him, which was impossible. He couldn't tell her what she wanted to hear.

Hermione sighed and grabbed her computer. She wanted to say that she'd learned her lesson after she'd Googled Draco last time...but she hadn't. Into the search bar, she typed "Draco Malfoy and woman". She narrowed her eyes as she scanned the results. Hermione had already seen most of these images last time, but now she had a keener eye as she scanned through them. No, it couldn't be the married woman he'd been having an affair with...Hermione frowned as she looked again at the image of them trying to walk out of a club discreetly. Damn, they were both cheaters. Her stomach somersaulted with guilt.