Clean

The Lesson

Chapter 7: The Lesson

It had been a difficult week for Hermione.

First, there was Ron. So far she had done a poor job of dealing with the situation, opting instead to avoid him, and that was not an easy thing to do. Before the night she'd had with him, they had spent almost every free moment together. Now, she was forced to make excuses to be elsewhere between classes, making a point to avoid places Ron might be. The one time she didn't have to worry about dealing with Ron was every night around 8 pm, and then she had her own, entirely different set of concerns.

Because, of course, that meant time alone with Malfoy. It was almost a lucky thing that the potion was so difficult – the previous night, they had essentially no need to speak to each other. They'd had a wailing mandrake, a series of escaped flobberworms, and some errant leeches infecting the fluxweed, all of which they'd had to juggle while shouting instructions. They hadn't had the opportunity to discuss her brandishing her wand in his face, much less his response. To some extent, she was relieved; it was much easier to pretend it hadn't happened.

But it had happened, and as much as it relieved her that he was ignoring it, the more it haunted her that she couldn't forget. Whatever it was about him that she couldn't identify – whatever that "intensity" was that she'd tried to convey to Harry – she'd seen it up close when he'd pinned her to the ground. She thought she'd seen something in his eyes with him that close to her; his glacial cool had threatened to crack.

It certainly wasn't helping her concentrate.

She wasn't particularly focused at the moment, lazily holding her head up with on her palm as she traced mindless patterns over the pages of her book. She'd finished her work ages ago, but hiding out in the library seemed like the wisest place to keep to herself. She had tried spending time with Luna or Ginny, but she found that without telling them what was going on in her personal life, she was forced to tell more lies – or at least, omit more truths – than she wanted to.

She picked up her quill and let it linger over a piece of parchment, dripping ink while her mind wandered. She should be furious at Malfoy for manhandling her like that. Why wasn't she?

Maybe because I wasn't totally innocent, she thought. She smiled in spite of herself. She'd felt victorious for a few moments, before he'd wrestled her to the ground, and even after he'd left, she still felt a sense of triumph from hitting Malfoy where it hurt. She'd been right, of course; in many ways she surpassed him in ability and intellect. But while she'd spent so many years hating him, she had spent the last week or so finding that the more she learned about him, the more interesting she found him.

"Does he challenge you?"

She heard Malfoy's words about Ron echo in her mind and she shook her head vigorously, trying to erase the thought. If Ron wasn't a challenge, then why couldn't she look him in the eye?

"Hermione! There you are."

She suppressed a groan as Harry enthusiastically pulled out a chair next to her. Ron followed closely, smiling tentatively at her.

"Hi Harry. Hello Ron," she said, nodding politely at him. She immediately felt guilty when she saw him stiffen.

"Where have you been?" Ron asked quietly, pulling out a chair for himself. She opened her mouth to speak – reaching into her vast library of excuses – but Harry interrupted, ignoring the tension between them.

"So – tell me about your potion."

"Oh really, Harry?" she said, a bemused smile on her face. "You're interested in discussing my work?"