Contingent | D.M. + H.G.

Chapter 18: Intent

A/N: Thank y'all so much for your patience lately. College graduation hit me hard, so the break was very much needed.

Betawork done by AlmondMilkTeaDoubleBoba, LeilahMoon, and lost_poet.

Update 1/7/22: My best friend commissioned art from VESPERICS for my birthday and I am OBSESSED. Thank you Lizzie for capturing this scene so perfectly!!

TW: Panic/anxiety attack in the last scene.

xoxo, carm

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She couldn't believe it.

Hermione was sat on the edge of the prefect's bath, fully clothed, but with her feet dangling in the warm water. It was the only inch of warmth that encapsulated her body. The rest of her felt numb.

That was the best way to describe it – the numbness. Deep down, Hermione had known that there was something going on with Malfoy. It was only a bottomless dive of nothingness – a black haze that simply existed to do nothing but swallow her whole. It served no real purpose – none other than to say 'I was right,' and suddenly she knew how it felt to be constantly one-upped in class.

She felt sick. So sick, she had to fight the bile that rose in her throat only to prove her wrong, to prove that she had something to lose, and she hated it.

It had been the same gut feeling that let her know when something was about to go horribly, horribly wrong. It was the same feeling that told her to use a mirror before peeking around that one corner in second year. The same feeling that hit her like a punch to the gut when Lupin had started to transform in third year.

It had never steered her wrong, and she was slightly disheartened to note that it still had yet to fail her.

When she'd seen the ink on his arm, it had been painful and horrifying, but all of the feelings that swarmed her were drenched in complete disappointment.

She dug the heels of her hands against her eyes, trying to force her mind, as well as her body, to go numb. It wasn't working – it never did. Hermione could feel the emotions all bubbling up, trying to come to a crux that wasn't there.

Without thinking, she took a deep breath and plunged straight into the hot water of the prefect's bath, completely submerging herself. Scrunching her eyes shut, Hermione let out a scream as strong as she could muster. She screamed until her lungs burned, were pleading for air, and if she were being honest with herself, she contemplated letting herself drop unconscious right there. Sink like a dead weight to the bottom and just stay there in ignorant bliss.

But, alas, she was Hermione Granger, and she wasn't about to give up a fight – especially with herself. Plus, she still had things to yell at Malfoy for, questions she needed to ask him.

So she shot up to the surface, gulping in the air in heavy, thick gasps. And then she submerged herself and did it again.

And again.

And again.

On the fifth submersion, she felt that she had it all out, at least for the time being. Stepping out of the tub, she had a sudden urge to go and talk to Draco; lay it all on the line.

Not bothering to dry herself, she stormed through the darkened hallways, sopping wet, and headed for the empty classroom she knew he liked to study in. Blasting open the door with a surge of magic, she flew into the room in a blur of red, gold, and brown.

He startled, jumping in his seat as he took in the sight of her, unable to mask his shock. "Granger?" he asked, eyebrows meeting in the center of his forehead. "What are you doing here? And why are you all wet?"