Outcasts | 5 Slytherins 1 Hermione

III

Hermione was in a royal mess. Actually, not royal. Just a mess. It was Monday morning, and she had already missed her first class of the day. With little sleep over the past few nights and forgetting her potions on the coffee table the other night, she was cursed with eyes of all kinds of different colors—silver, black, whiskey brown. Every time she closed her eyes, the three stared back at her. They had infiltrated her mind, and she couldn't shake them off.

The more she tasted, the stronger the craving became. Day by day, the hunger inside her grew, consuming her thoughts and desires. Sometimes, she contemplated seeking help. Perhaps a mind healer could offer a solution to her predicament. But then again, part of her feared what they might uncover. She did not want to end up locked in a hospital.

When the desire subsided, self-hatred took its place. But self-loathing had become her new normal, so when that failed to have enough of an effect, another kind of hatred consumed her: the desire for revenge. They had trapped her and forced her hand. Well, she knew that wasn't entirely true.

'Tell us to stop, and we will.' Those were Draco's words, but he knew she couldn't resist and took advantage.

She rolled over in bed with a groan. She was determined not to let it happen again. There was already too much complexity in their dynamic, and she had a sinking feeling that any agreement with them would entail far more than she knew. Besides, she was acutely aware that Riddle was the one calling the shots, and the very thought of him both repulsed and enticed her in equal measure.

The urge to break Riddle was strong. She wondered what kind of monster lurked behind his cool mask, what kind of demons she might unearth if she got too close. All three of them were more intoxicating than any drug, and if she wasn't careful, she would find herself completely and hopelessly hooked.

She could revisit the idea of reaching out to Blackwood. She remembered the way Draco reacted when she mentioned him—almost like he was jealous. Everything about this whole situation was confusing, and she was determined not to play Riddle's game, no matter how much she wanted to.

With a sigh, she resolves to play it by ear, to see how the week goes and decide what to do next weekend. Reluctantly, she rolls out of bed to get ready for her Charms class. Hermione may have become many things this year, but academics is the one thing she won't let slip.

~*~

Walking into class, Hermione curses at herself. She got a bit too dolled up because she knew Riddle would be in this class. Why is she trying to impress him? Sometimes she acts before her brain can process it, and it drives her wild.

She plops down in her usual seat, annoyed that she scanned the room to look for him and already knows he's in the back of the class seated next to Marcus Flint, who checks her out, but he usually does, so it doesn't faze her.

Her eyes feel a tug to look back, knowing he can look at her without her seeing him puts her on edge. It's like she can feel his eyes on her body, sending shivers up her spine. She remembers his hand on her forearm and how it felt when he touched her skin. She tried tirelessly to scrub the feeling off until her arm was raw last night, but it didn't work.

Her usual desk partner sits next to her, and they greet each other. She's a Hufflepuff girl who is too sweet for Hermione's liking, but they get along just fine and speak when they have to. Their conversation drifts to homework and their findings for an upcoming essay. Academics are the only reprieve from Hermione's traitorous mind, the only escape. She quite enjoys these conversations when they happen.

As the professor settled in and prepared to start the class, his voice cut through the air. "Move," he commanded her partner, without looking her in the eye. Instead, he busied himself with picking invisible lint off his sleeve. The Hufflepuff girl jumps and her eyes widen as she glances up at him, scanning the room for an alternative spot, but realizing there's only one available next to Marcus. With a nervous swallow, she gathers her belongings, preparing to move.