Bad Reputation

The Owl and the Pixie Cat

Hermione loves Hogsmeade in a way that is almost embarrassing. She loves it on summer days. She loves it on rainy days. She loves it at Christmas. Perhaps because it reminds her most closely of her home in the Muggle world.

She thinks she understands Malfoy's intent in inviting her to have their second lesson in town, away from prying eyes. She meets him in a crooked, dimly lit alley between a sweet shop and a stationery shop — an alley sketched in very specific detail on the note he sent her.

After a quick scan of the surroundings, he loops an arm around her and drops a quick, featherlight kiss on her mouth. As delicate as a butterfly landing on its favorite leaf.

It's fresh, sweet, and over before she can savor it. She looks up at him inquiringly.

His face is pure stone. "Just practicing," he says, arching an eyebrow. "Don't get any ideas, Granger."

She shrugs and begins walking alongside him as he explains that he has a few errands to run. Picking up some school supplies for a fellow Slytherin who's fallen ill. Picking out some candy for himself. More minty lip balm. A special salve for Quidditch players' hands.

"It's because of our death grip," he says wryly, and she groans.

They wind up at an obscure and empty café, The Owl and the Pixie Cat. Hermione gets bergamot tea. Malfoy orders a hot chocolate. They sit and regard each other.

"Your location scouting leaves a little to be desired," she says.

He rolls his neck and looks out the window. "We'll get around to studying. For now I just need — a little time away from it all."

She guesses he means the taunting. Sometime in the last week, the rumor mill about his sexual prowess had evolved from a source of school comedy into something more fraught. In Potions class earlier that day, she'd seen a girl threaten to hex him for cruelly using her friend, then breaking her heart.

He'd gone on blandly stirring his Veritaserum — as usual with the most difficult potions, he was one of the only ones in the class to produce it correctly. Slughorn deemed it top shelf, bottling a little jar of it and locking it in his desk. The girl who threatened him, Carmela Corvus-Cline, followed him out of the classroom while firing a Stinging Jinx at his heels. Without looking back, he'd pointed his wand behind him, doused the sparks, and shot a cloud of bats straight into her path.

"Tell me about you and Ginny," he says, nursing his hot chocolate. "She's dating Saint Potter, right?"

Hermione smiles. Ginny is so good for Harry. So grounding. She watches them sometimes and wonders why that kind of relationship doesn't seem...a good fit for her.

"She doesn't see Harry like that," she explains. "At the end of the day, he's just a boy and she fell for him. They fight, make up, make mistakes, and try again, just like any other couple."

"You say it like a great authority on the subject, Granger."

She sighs. "Well, you've got me there. While I have some small amounts of physical experience, stolen here and there, it's never been in a romantic context."

"Is it a choice? It couldn't be for lack of opportunity."

He stops there, not continuing the sentence she began in the library.

"I suppose...it didn't ever feel quite right," she says. "To just pair off for the sake of it. Because others insisted that that was the natural way to be."

"It's the only way I was ever taught to be," he says. "Maybe it's why I built up this image for myself, a little bit. It keeps me from having to go through the bloody performance."