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Hermione wasn’t allowed to be a sweet tooth or generally go anywhere near sugar – so how had she ended up tangled in her current predicament?
“Come on, you. We're ready to get shacked up!”
Oh. Right. Ginny Weasley. That's how.
“They’re melted beyond recognition. Have you thought that maybe that's why you couldn’t get them to work?” Hermione complained, eyeing the handful of sparkly yellow candy in Luna's hands with distaste. And distrust.
This was a terrible, terrible idea.
“It’s sizzling, Granger. What did you expect?” It was most unusual to hear Pansy's bored drawl amongst their group, but she was learning to tune it out. “And they're enchanted lemon drops. I very much doubt a little heat will disable them completely.”
“No, probably not. A Finite Incantatem might,” Luna said softly. “Or vinegar, perhaps.”
Pansy took a deep steadying breath, clearly not amused. “Aren’t you supposed to- I don’t know, see things, you damned fruit loop? I thought you'd be my best bet!”
“Hey, none of that or we're not doing this at all,” Ginny warned with a glare.
Pansy crossed her arms in defiance. “Get real, Weasley. You're just as giddy to find out if you're fated to the Chosen Dong. Let's not pretend this is solely for my benefit, yeah? You were the first to agree, much to Granger’s annoyance.”
Ginny smiled, as wide and fake as she could. “Mere curiosity. You, on the other hand, have an engagement to plan and no fiancé in sight, don't you, Parkinson?”
“Your situation is a bit more dire, Pansy,” Luna agreed.
“Dire enough to request the help of Gryffindors, no less.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, Weasley. My galleons were on the Loony Bin the entire time. You two just happened to tag along.” Pansy's eyes rolled back before zeroing in on Hermione. “Now, if none of us regular folk or the Swottiest Witch of Our Age can activate the candy, I officially give up.”
Ginny leaned back on the grass and snorted. “You really think it's wise to insult the one who in a few minutes may very well hold your future in her hands? It’d be oh so easy to tell you that your pale little pinky is attached to, say, Vincent Crabbe's…”
Pansy shuddered visibly. “That outcome would officially hurl my plan out the window. If my soulmate is round and smells of cheese rolls, I'm marrying out of convenience. I don’t care.”
“It’s good that your dealbreakers are so few. That way you don’t set yourself up for disappointment,” Luna praised with a small smile, earning herself a scowl from the Slytherin witch.
Ginny stifled a chuckle. “So, that’s the bottom of the barrel, then?”
“No, no. That spot is reserved for the males of your house,” Pansy scoffed.
“Again, playing it loose given our elbow room to ruin your love life.”
“Granger's elbow room. You won’t see shite. And I'm counting on her Gryffindor honour,” Pansy said, eyes pensive. “Then again, some Veritaserum would be nice…”
“No way. Take it or leave it, Parkinson,” Ginny said with finality.
Pansy huffed. “Fine. So, what are you waiting for Granger?”
Hermione watched as the three heads of vastly different coloured hair turned to her simultaneously. Hadn’t she felt so at odds with their arrangement, she would have found amusement in their varying degrees of eagerness.
“Hm, for you to forget I'm here?”
Both Ginny and Pansy groaned before the Slytherin witch spoke up. “What’s the bloody harm, Granger?”
Hermione scanned the scattered groups of people enjoying the shade at Hogsmeade Park. Harry and Ron were still sulking by a bush for having been shooed away from the girls as soon as Parkinson had approached them. On the other hand, the four of them probably looked deranged, sitting on a small hilltop that overlooked the whole expanse of verdant green with some binoculars Hermione had transfigured out of a twig. Certainly not how she pictured her Saturday playing out.
“I don’t know if I feel comfortable having that kind of knowledge about all these people,” she argued, plucking small blades of grass from the ground.
“It would only be detrimental should you choose to tell the parties involved,” Luna offered kindly.
Pansy gestured to the Ravenclaw like she had momentarily become the sane one in the group. “Precisely. We only want to know ours. We're giving you our consent.”
“Speak for yourself. I want the juicy!” Ginny rubbed her hands like a fly, an excited grin on her lips.
“No, no way, Gin. If I do this, I'll tell you what I see for each of you and that’s it,” Hermione replied before taking one sticky lemon drop from Luna's hands, urging them to concede.
“Ugh, alright already,” Ginny groaned but plastered a huge smile on her face a second later, anxious to move along. “Here. The bye-culars or other.”
Hermione took them from the redhead and turned to Pansy. “Fatum Filum Revelio, right?”
The brunette picked the discarded box from the ground, read the notes on the underside and confirmed with a nod. “That's what it says here.”
Hermione reached for her wand and held the candy to her lips. “If I get a cavity, you'll have to answer to my parents,” she said, and then uttered as clearly as possible, “Fatum Filum Revelio.”
A flick of 10¾ inches of vine, and the web appeared.
And Godric, was it other-worldly.
Hermione stared in amazement at the tangled mess before her eyes, the binoculars quickly forgotten on her lap.
Every strand was different. Old couples had theirs worn-out, with tiny bits going astray from the years of use. Some were bright, and strong as a boat's ropes, others a faint burgundy that she didn’t quite understand yet. Some were tangled in a maze too complicated for her teenage mind to comprehend, others not complicated at all except for the people they were connecting.
Her eyes lowered to the red knot around her own finger, but she gulped her curiosity down and refused to look for the other end. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know.
“So?”
Someone's voice brought her out of her stupor, and she turned her neck to see three pairs of hopeful eyes examining her with curiosity.
“I see them,” Hermione breathed, unable to keep the dreamy pitch away from her voice. “I can actually see them...”
The three girls screeched with excitement and before she knew it, Pansy had grabbed her shoulders and turned her towards them.
“Me first!”
“Why do you get to go first?” Ginny asked and Hermione could tell it was simply out of habit of sparring with the Slytherin witch.
“Because it's my family heirloom,” Pansy answered matter-of-factly and thrust her left hand in Hermione's face. “Good news, for the love of Salazar, Granger. Please!”
With a nod, Hermione focused on the bright red string around Pansy's pinky and followed the trail down the hill. Her hands gripped the binoculars, already expecting it to lead her towards the group of Slytherins all the way across the field, but the first twist of the thread had her eyes widening in surprise.
“So? What do you see?” Pansy fidgeted on her knees.
Hermione cleared her throat. “Remember how you said Crabbe wouldn’t even be the worst possible result?”
“Yeah.”
“And remember how you cringed at the prospect of a Gryffindor?”
“Yeah.”
Hermione paused to glance at her. “Do you really not see where I'm going with this?”
Any wider, and Pansy's eyes would have exploded, she was fairly certain.
“P-ha! Who is it? Oh, this is too good!” Ginny was already doubling over. “Better not be Harry. I'll hex your finger off right now.”
Hermione shook her head with a chuckle and returned her attention to Pansy. “Do you want to know?”
Pansy plopped down beside her with a defeated huff. “Might as well. Just my luck, of course.”
“Hey, you could do a lot worse, believe me!” Hermione cheered while giving the other witch a comforting, albeit awkward, pat on the back. “It’s Neville.”
“Longbottom?!”
“No, the football player,” Hermione joked. “Of course, Longbottom!”
Ginny scooted over, a playful glint in her eyes. “He’s anything but round and usually smells woodsy and herby and nicey, you know?”
The Slytherin glared at the redhead before letting herself fall back on the grass. “This is a disaster! He's a blob. My mother would never allow it.”
“Didn’t she give you the candy precisely so you'd find your other half?” Hermione asked with a raised brow.
Pansy rubbed her eyes in frustration and let her hands rest there. “So I'd get the best possible match amongst the Pure-bloods.”
“Neville’s a Pure-blood,” Luna noted.
“Let me rephrase that. Amongst the wealthy, Slytherin Pure-bloods,” she murmured. “It wasn’t exactly an invitation to run off into the sunset with my intended.”
Ginny scoffed in response, though her mocking expression softened. “A dangerous move on her part, if you want my opinion. Her plan could have very easily taken a wrong turn.”
Pansy took a moment to compose herself before sitting up again. “Well, it didn’t. And it won’t. Because I won’t do anything about it. This stays between us.”
Hermione's brows furrowed. “Pansy…”
“No, Granger. You don’t get to give me a friendly shoulder to cry on after a half hour of bonding time. Slytherins don’t work that way…”
Back in their first few years in Hogwarts, Hermione had promised herself never to feel pity for Salazar Slytherin's house, no matter the circumstances. Yet, at the moment, she couldn’t shake the feeling off.
“All the more reason to consider broadening your horizons,” Luna encouraged, but didn’t receive a response from the distracted brunette. “Can I go next?”
Hermione welcomed the diversion from the uncomfortable topic. “Sure, Luna.”
The blonde's pale fingers were held out in front of her but, strangely enough, nothing appeared. Hermione frowned and clasped her other hand. Seeing as they were far from knowledgeable on the mechanics of the strings of fate, she had to exhaust every option. Perhaps some people had them attached elsewhere.
Hermione was weary of voicing her discomfort, knowing it could arouse panic. Luna's encouraging nudge gave her the green light.
“I- I don’t see anything…”
Luna didn’t seem fazed. “I don’t have a thread?”
Hermione assented before looking around. “Quite a few people don’t, actually. I wonder why that is…”
“Mother said that's normal.” Pansy rejoined the conversation. “You can’t see it unless the person is nearby. Makes senses, really. How lucky would we be if all our soulmates just so happened to go to school with us?”
“True,” Ginny agreed, sending Pansy a pointed nod.
By the look on Pansy's face, Hermione could tell she grasped Ginny's message just fine. As strange as it would feel should she remember it later, Hermione wanted to comfort the witch of the opposing house.
“See the old couple by the pond there?” She pointed to their right. “There’s no string connecting them. Yet, they seem perfectly content.”
“They do, don’t they?” Luna agreed promptly.
Hermione nodded, still playing with the candy in her mouth. “And I won’t tell you who it is, but Cho Chang's one and only is in the arms of another blissfully unaware soul while she snogs Cedric Diggory within an inch of his life.”
That got a giggle out of Pansy. “I’m pretty sure they're planning on marrying as soon as she graduates.”
“They should. They're a perfect couple, after all.” Hermione smiled. “I guess some stories are just not meant to be told.”
The silence stretched out between them after that, each of the girls lost in their own thoughts.
Ginny was the first to speak again. “So, you can't see every strand? Not if the other person isn't close by?”
Hermione nibbled on her bottom lip while scanning the park. “Nope. Doesn’t look like it.”
“Well, that's unfortunate. What if they're just in the village? We should be able to follow it and find out. Or! We could just pull on it like a leash 'till his ass is dragged to you!” Ginny laughed.
“How can they even say romance is dead?” Hermione snickered. “Can you imagine the mess? The whole world would turn into a huge cat wool ball. Crookshanks would have a field day!”
“Maybe cats can see it,” Luna wondered, laying on her back.
“Would explain why they flip out out of nowhere.” Ginny shrugged and Hermione saw the moment she decided she'd been waiting long enough. “So, do you see anything around this area right here?”
The younger Weasley's hand was shoved in her face and Hermione had to playfully push it back to get a look around. She picked the binoculars up, just for show, so she didn’t give anything away since Harry was close enough.
“I do. And I know who it is,” she said, keeping her voice as neutral as possible. “Do you want to know?”
Ginny was about to frantically agree, but a quick glance at Pansy deterred her. Hermione could understand her concerns. The younger girl had been in love with her best friend for the better part of the last three years, and a negative response from Hermione could dampen her mood for the next five.
She could tell her. Harry was the person on the other end of the string. If Ginny chose to know, she would confirm it in a heartbeat. But Hermione truly believed their decisions should not be dictated by what they were told today.
Hence why she would think nothing of Ron's bare hand.
“Will you tell me? If and when I ask in the future?” Ginny finally whispered.
Hermione smiled. “Of course, Gin. Whenever you're ready.”
By the time they had finished, the lemon drop had dissolved on her tongue and she was back to seeing the world without tangles and knots. Hermione was surprised, when Pansy handed her another piece of enchanted candy.
“Please? I just need to know one more thing.”
Hermione was ready to deny her, knowing she'd be asking about someone else, but the gentle plea laced in the other girl’s words forced her to grant her wish.
With a flick of her wrist, the red strings materialized before the setting sun.
“Does… Draco have one?”
Hermione exchanged a knowing look with the other two. “Even if I don't see it, he probably does. That shouldn’t make a difference, Pansy.”
“I know but… I'm not interested in him, don't get me wrong, but... I don’t need to know who. Just…”
Hermione knew it had been a terrible idea. For once, though, she didn’t want to be the annoying know-it-all. She wanted to make up for the disconcerted glint she'd unintentionally planted on the other witch's eyes.
Holding the binoculars up, she pointed them in the direction of the group Draco Malfoy sat amidst. Regrettably, he did have a red strand attached to his pinky. Hermione briefly wondered if love truly was blind, or at the very least idiotic, if the git had another half destined to endure his moronic self for the rest of time. That thought swiftly dissipated from her mind when she chanced a glance at Pansy. If there was one thing that afternoon had taught her, was that she shouldn’t be so quick to judge and that even Slytherins had feelings. Okay, two things.
“He does,” she confirmed.
One couldn’t say he didn’t have snake instincts. As if he'd been able to feel her stare on him through the lenses, his glacier grey eyes turned to her. Even through the poor quality of the dull glass, she saw the way they narrowed in annoyance. Oh, yes, what a catch.
Then, he got up.
“Uh- he's coming over, I think.”
Pansy panicked. “Not a word! Do you hear me? Or else I'll have to Avada you all.”
Ginny and Luna chuckled, noticing the actual lack of murderous intent in Pansy’s tone.
Hermione, on the other hand, was enjoying keeping the optical instrument in Malfoy's direction, just to spite him. The blond arsehole was marching through the middle of the wide field, just about to enter the large knot where a couple dozen strings met. Given their imaginary status, Hermione knew they couldn’t actually cause any harm, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t conjure up a pretty picture of her own. One that included him getting tangled up like a fly caught in a spider's web while hanging upside down.
She realized how long she’d been watching him when he stepped out of the red knot. She also realized how his string didn’t run left, or right, or back, but straight ahead. Straight towards them.
Oh, no.
Hermione lowered the binoculars, careful to mask her expression so the others wouldn’t notice. As Malfoy climbed up the hill, the length of his string shortened. And so did her own.
No, no, no, no, no-
“Never took you for a peeping Tom, Granger. There's something I didn’t know about you.”
Hermione breathed shakily, attempting to keep her voice steady. “There’s a lot I didn’t know about you either, Malfoy.”
What in the hell was that?
“Great. We should keep it that way,” he dismissed her before turning his attention to Pansy. “What in Merlin's name have you been doing with these nutcases the whole afternoon, Pans?”
The Slytherin witch shrugged. “Girl talk. Boys, knitting, cats and food – you know, the usual.”
Malfoy had the most comical expression of disdain on his face and Hermione would have found it hilarious had she not been on the verge of hyperventilating.
“How come this wanker gets to interrupt girl time but we have to sit across the trail like two undesirables?” Harry and Ron had walked up to them, but Hermione wasn’t sure who had thrown the barb.
“I do believe you just answered your own question, Weasleblee,” Malfoy mocked with a sneer.
“That’s enough, alright?” Ginny stepped in, latching on to Harry's arm. “We’ll go our separate ways and continue to hiss at one another from a safe distance. What do you say?”
Malfoy scoffed, holding a hand out to help Pansy up. “I always knew you were the sharp runt of the ginger litter, Weaslette. Let's go, Pans.”
The two Slytherins sauntered down the hill, while Harry, Ginny and Ron skipped in the opposite direction. Hermione tried not to focus on the fact that Ron hadn’t thought of holding his hand out to her.
“I agree with you, Hermione. I think some stories aren’t meant to be told.” Luna's dreamlike drawl had her turning her head towards the Ravenclaw. “But only if there's really a knot between the two ends.”
Hermione laughed, thinking of her own newfound conundrum. “Oh, there are some knots that have no chance of getting untangled.”
“I don’t think a silly house rivalry is a tight enough knot that you can’t work through.”
Hermione froze, her eyes immediately falling on the blonde girl. “W-What?”
“Draco Malfoy, correct?”
Her throat was so tight, Hermione couldn’t respond.
Luna maintained her serene posture. “I can’t see the strings, but I can see the Nargles. They were all over the place, forming lines, when you activated the magic. They were nibbling on air, I'm guessing the threads. We shouldn’t do this again. They may sever the ties.”
Hermione gaped at her.
All things considered, she wasn’t the least surprised that Nargles did, in fact, exist.
It was just her luck, of course, that there were no books that even brushed on the topic of the enchanted candy. Hermione had thrashed the whole Restricted Section, coming up short of results and with a serious case of untamed hair.
She did consider going to Pansy for more information, under the guise of academic curiosity, but she didn’t trust herself not to give anything away. Especially since Pansy would most likely be accompanied by her source of distress.
It just couldn’t be. Not Draco blimey Malfoy. Anyone but him.
“The one and only, Granger.”
Hermione screamed at the voice that came from behind her. She whirled around, wand in hand, to find the object of her musings and future nightmares leaning against one of the stands, arms crossed in front of his stupid chest, and mouth tugged up in a stupid smirk on his stupid face.
“How long have you been standing there for?!”
He sighed. “Long enough to hear you cursing me out like I killed a few dozen puppies today.”
“I said that out loud?”
“Loud and clear,” he mused, inspecting his nails. “You’ve been mumbling my name for the past ten minutes, actually, Granger. Wonder why that is…”
Hermione groaned and turned away from him. “None of your damn business.”
“Oh, forgive my assumption. I was thrown off by the mention of my name…”
She leaned on her forehead against the shelf in front of her. “Look. I have- research to do. So, if you wouldn’t mind putting off your daily dose of attempting to make my life miserable, I would deeply appreciate it.”
She glanced at him just in time to see him raising his hands in the air and offering her a suspicious smile before plopping down on one of the chairs close to where she was standing.
“Far from me to want to disturb the Golden Girl's studies, projects or other illicit affairs she might be conducting in the Restricted Section!” Malfoy beamed, holding her gaze as he reached inside his pocket and pulled out a familiar box. “Lemon drop?”
Hermione felt glued to the floor.
“I beg your pardon?”
“I was actually expecting you to beg me for something else entirely, but that will do for now,” he teased with a barely contained grin. “Would you like me to refer to you by Soulmate from now on? Or just Mate for short?”
There was no air left inside her lungs, she was sure of it. “You were able to activate it too?”
Malfoy rolled his eyes at her obvious question. “I’m gifted, witch.”
Hermione shook her head, refusing to believe they were even having the present conversation. “Pansy was bent on not telling you anything. How did you even find out?”
“Let’s just say magic is not all I'm gifted in.” He chuckled at her frown of disgust. “Calm down, Granger. She was upset about the whole ordeal, poured her heart out, happened to mention you saying I had one of those damned things around my finger, curiosity got the better of me, covered the school grounds since dinner – happy?”
She curled her arms around her torso and sat opposite of him. “Far from it. I’d be happy if you weren't on the other end.”
“That’s one way to hurt your Soulmate's feelings,” he said, feigning pain by taking a hand to his chest.
“You’d have to have access to those inside the dark recesses of your miniscule heart for me to hurt them.”
“Boosting the cattiness, huh? Was it the 'Soulmate' part? Do you really prefer 'Mate'?”
“No, I don’t like the sound of that, either!”
“Good, because I hate it. It's like I'm destined to a man or a werewolf's bitch, and both prospects fail to amuse me.”
Hermione groaned loudly, effectively shutting him up. “What do you want, Malfoy?”
“To know if you've found a way to sever the tie, of course.”
She looked up at him. “How do you know that's what I was doing?”
“Please, don’t insult my intelligence, Granger. You're too close-minded to even begin to think of it as a good thing, much less accept it.”
Her eyes narrowed at him. “I’m close-minded? You do know who you are, right? You do remember insulting your way past me for the last five years, don’t you? You're telling me your mighty Pure-blooded self would entertain the thought of actually pursuing a relationship with me, a Muggle-born?”
“I never said that.”
“What?”
“I said you were too close-minded to think of it as a good thing. Which would be the first stage and the one I'm currently at. Actually accepting it and doing something about it is a whole other story.”
Hermione ground her teeth and gripped the fabric of her skirt in both hands. “The damned candy has to be expired. There's no other explanation for it.”
Malfoy had the gall to laugh at her. “For all we know it assigns people to each other randomly. And even if it doesn’t, this little revelation doesn’t have to lead anywhere. We can both go on our merry ways and I'm sure we'll both be perfectly happy.”
Hermione pressed her lips together to keep from smiling. Weird. “That’s what I said too. Pansy seems to be keen on that course of action.”
Malfoy shook his head. “Wrong. Last time I saw her she was going down to the Great Hall to look for Longbottom.”
“What?” Hermione felt her forehead creasing in thought. “Really?”
“Really.” Malfoy suddenly leaned towards her, his torso nearly sprawled on the table. “Pansy Parkinson is proving to be more adventurous than you, Granger. Must wound your Gryffindor pride to the core, no?”
Instead of falling for his bait, she chose to remind him of something. “I honest to Godric can’t stand you.”
“I honest to Salazar can’t stand you,” he repeated, waiting for the next argument which she seemed to be having trouble to form. “But if there's even an infinitesimal chance of it being true, don't you want to try it?”
Hermione gave him a once-over. “My issue is not with trying it. My issue is with it working.”
Another bark of laughter. It deeply annoyed her how he was finding great amusement at her expense.
“That’s kind of the point, witch,” he explained like you would a child. “An answer, Granger. That's all I want right now.”
Despite her better judgement, she gave her eyes the permission they needed to scan him from top to bottom. Malfoy encompassed everything she hated in a man, all tightly packed in an unfortunately extremely beautiful casing.
He was rude, narcissistic, cowardly and deceitful.
He was also intelligent, resourceful, loyal and perseverant.
“No strings attached?”
Malfoy laughed again, rather innocently for once, and Hermione found that she quite liked the sound.
“Metaphorically speaking we’re attached alright, I'm afraid. But other than that, no. I promise the Malfoy engagement ring will only be owled to you a good three weeks from now.”
Hermione quickly picked up on the joke and allowed herself to smile freely. A small one, of course, but still a smile.
Before she could talk herself out of it, she concentrated every ounce of courage her tiny body possessed on her legs and got up from the chair. Malfoy was watching her with curiosity, his steel-grey eyes following her every move. Eventually, she ended up in front of him, just between his parted legs.
“Oh, this should be good,” he teased while resting both arms at his sides in invitation.
“It should. Literally. It's fated. If not, I'm gonna be seriously mad.”
With one knee on the padded chair, Hermione grabbed his collar and pulled his lips up to hers. Fate was right, as it turned out, and she was seriously mad but for an entirely different reason. It should not be okay for someone to taste like him. It should not be legal for someone to smell like him. And it most definitely should not be fated that her pinky be attached to his.
Hermione felt his tongue moving expertly against the seam of her lips, and she pitifully complied with his request for entrance. Malfoy had dragged her to his lap with a gentle tug on the small of her back, her thighs now encasing his waist on the chair. One of his hands travelled gently up her spine before delving in her mass of curls and tightening his hold. She felt a rush of liquid heat already travelling down her body and felt a little more than mortified.
“Fuck, you're good at that, Granger,” he groaned, low and moist against her lips and she attempted to clamp them to avoid an embarrassed whimper.
“I don’t want to do this while I hate you.”
“Pity. Hate sex is a real turn-on.”
Hermione snorted and sat back on his legs, putting just the smallest amount of space between them.
“I, uh- I've completed my research, I think…”
She saw him smirk under his bangs as he moved to plant a kiss on her collarbone. “Glad I could be of assistance. Do I get to hear your findings?”
Her eyelids felt heavy, her body already succumbing to his deliberate ministrations. Godric, she really couldn’t stand him!
“Strings attached, definitely.”
He smiled, before whispering against her parted lips, “Thought so.”