Disclaimer: JKR owns anything that is obviously hers. I own the rest. I do not make any money off this.
Characters: Draco Malfoy, Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger, Theodore Nott, Others
Genres: Angst, Drama, Humour, Romance
Story Warnings: Epilogue? What Epilogue?, Profanity, Smut
Overall Rating: NC-17
Summary: Hermione needs to get rid of her pesky virginity for her very own reasons. The solution to that is, of course, to make a list of the boys at Hogwarts to find out which one will suit her purpose best! Draco Malfoy is at first left off her list, but when he finds out and teases her about it, she realises that maybe he has a point--after all, who would be better to take her virginity than the most gossiped about skirt chaser at Hogwarts? He's not quite as willing as she thought he'd be, though. Written to fit a prompt.
Extra Note: Thank you to mazvn and cklls for the beta and dollfaced for the banner. :)
Chapter Length: 5,455
Draco had had a prime view of Hermione's bottom from where he was holding the ladder. He was quite certain she knew that. She was wearing barely decent underwear under her skirt, he'd soon discovered. Or, rather, he supposed it was decent enough, but there was something about the way the fabric only partially covered her backside that was oddly mesmerising.
That, and the lace was awfully pretty.
Yeah, that was the reason he was staring.
When she fell, he thought it was another one of her antics, and he prepared to catch her, only to see her frantically grab hold of a step, resulting in a sickening sound. She cried out and almost immediately let go again, but had already gained hold with her other hand and feet and didn't fall.
It didn't seem like her to miss such a splendid opportunity to get up close and personal.
"Are you all right?" he asked, when she merely stood there and didn't move.
"I'm fine," she muttered.
He couldn't quite see, but she seemed to be cradling her hand.
"Did you hurt that?" he asked, nodding towards her hand, even though she couldn't see.
She slowly nodded. "I think so."
"Well, then you aren't fine, are you?"
She glared down at him. "I didn't break my neck—I consider that a fortune."
"What are you on about? I would've caught you."
She snorted. "Right." Then she began an awkward one-handed climb down.
He scowled at her back. She was always such a bloody martyr. “Why wouldn’t I? You were completely right about how people would see it if you got hurt.”
“I did get hurt.”
“Not through any fault of mine!”
She took the last step down and glared at him. “Except that you’re impossible to trust and that's why it happened.”
"Yes, you being stupid is completely my fault. Hospital wing, then?"
She wrinkled her nose, looking down at the hand she was holding protectively against her chest. "Nah... I mean... It hurts, but I don't think I broke anything."
"Let me have a look at it." He reached out.
She immediately stepped back, eyeing him suspiciously. "I don't think so."
And yet she thought she'd be able to sleep with him? He shook his head at the sheer lack of logic. "What exactly do you think I'm going to do, Granger?"
"I don't know. Relish my pain?"
"I can do that without touching you."
"You can't magnify it without touching me."
He wearily rubbed the area between his eyes that had begun to ache. "Granger, I can't fucking harm you and you know that. If I have as much as a bad thought, they'll stick me in Azkaban for the rest of my life."
She slowly nodded in acknowledgement of that. "But you have to admit it's suspicious when you all of a sudden offer to do something that could be viewed as nice or helpful."
"Why? You're evaluating me. If I help you, that'll mean a better evaluation, right?"
She still looked suspicious but only hesitated slightly in holding out her hand.
He grabbed the wrist, noticing her wince, and pushed the hand slightly backwards, making her cry out.
She tore her hand out of his grasp. "You did that on purpose!"
"I barely even moved it, Granger. And it's already beginning to swell. It might not be broken, but you really should go to the hospital wing."
"Fine," she muttered. "I'll go. But for your information, it doesn't look good that the first night you're helping me, I have to go to the hospital wing."
"Yeah, yeah, I heard you. It's all my fault. Are we going?" He began walking without making sure she was with him.
She only hesitated a few seconds before catching up with him. "I didn't say it's all your fault. I said it looks bad. People might think I'm trying to protect you."
He snorted. "Why would you do that?"
"Because I'm that kind of ninny."
She nodded enthusiastically and he noticed that her cheeks were flaming and her eyes were shiny. Her wrist must really hurt. "Yes, I'm extremely easy to persuade to not report someone. I have an unwavering faith in humanity."
"And that makes you a ninny?"
"Yes, of course. Humanity includes you."
He glared at her. "I know you're in pain, Granger, but could you stop with the pissy comments? I didn't actually do anything!"
She blushed even more. "You're right, I'm sorry. But in my defence, you were much more fun when you used to give as good as you got."
"I know." He sighed wistfully. "I miss being able to insult all of you plonkers without any repercussions."
"You can insult me," she offered. "I won't tell anyone."
"Yeah... not going to take that chance. Sorry." Too much was at stake. He might regret not being able to call her names, but that was far preferable over going to Azkaban because of his 'attitude'.
She pouted. "No fun. You won't sleep with me and you won't even insult me."
It was his turn to blush. She certainly had a way with words sometimes. "Then maybe you should go look for a bloke that will do both if that's what gets you off."
She actually cracked a small smile before going back to looking displeased. "I think I'll take one or the other."
He didn't reply but merely shouldered the door to the hospital wing open. With any luck, this wouldn't take too long and he'd be allowed to go to bed soon.
Hermione eyed the wrist splint she'd been saddled with and deepened her everlasting pout. You'd think they could make the pain immediately go away with magic.
"Oh, come off it, Granger," Malfoy said, seeing the look on her face. "It'll be gone in a few days."
"It's my right hand!" she whinged. "I can't take notes like this."
He rolled his eyes at her. "So you won't take notes for a couple of classes. You'll live."
She knew he was right, but she felt like being surly so she merely scowled at him.
"All right," he said, getting up from the chair where he'd been sat all through her treatment. "You'll live and I trust you don't actually think I had a part in your clumsy adventure."
She pursed her lips. "Of course you had a part in this."
He stopped dead to stare at her. "You can't be serious."
"I am. I'll be sure to tell the Headmistress all about it."
His jaw tightened. "You'd really do that?"
"Of course. She needs to know that you examined it, talked me into going to the hospital wing, and even walked me here and stayed with me."
He stared at her as if unsure what to make of her story. "Of course I did! I couldn't risk pissing you off."
"You could've shrugged and walked off and you know it."
"Not when I could risk being blamed for your injury."
"Oh, shut up, Malfoy. It's not such a bad thing to be a decent human being."
"But... I'm not!"
"Of course," she patiently agreed.
"That's what I said!"
"I'm not contradicting you."
"You're humouring me and that's even worse!" He was beginning to look downright distressed.
She sniggered. "Wouldn't dream of it."
He frowned at her and then without another word turned on his heel and left the room.
Hermione couldn't help but laugh out loud.
Draco managed to have an almost Granger-free weekend—how that happened, he wasn't quite certain, other than she’d cancelled Friday’s work—but Sunday afternoon, she found him again. She was still wearing her wrist splint and a skirt he would mostly describe as perky.
"Can I count on you tonight?" she asked without preamble.
"Uh, for what?"
She pursed her lips. "I was thinking library duty, but that's negotiable..."
He mentally groaned and reminded himself not to give her any openings. "Sunday isn't one of my days. I'm supposed to report in Tuesday and Friday."
"Technically, I decide when you're supposed to report in. And I'm having problems doing the work with this hand."
"So... it's an order?"
"It's a request."
"I can turn it down?" he asked, ever the optimist.
"You can. But your review would suffer from it."
"So what you're trying to say is that I only have the pretence of a choice?"
"That's fairly accurate."
He sighed. "See you after dinner, then."
"You know, Granger..." Malfoy said after they'd been at the library a few minutes. "If you keep wearing those skirts, you're going to catch a cold. I promise you, I've already seen your legs."
Hermione hid a smirk, slowly climbing up to put a single book away. She'd noticed him more than seeing her legs. His fascination was her entire reason to keep wearing skirts. "Don't worry, Malfoy. I’ve not caught a cold in ages. I exercise, eat my vegetables, and make sure to catch a bit of sun whenever it's available. You can look at my legs without concern for my health."
"You honestly think that your legs are sexy enough to convince me?"
She climbed down and turned towards him, noticing how he wasn't looking at her but seemed very concentrated on reading some titles. He couldn't even look at her?
"Why, Malfoy..." she purred, "are you saying I have sexy legs?"
His cheeks pinkened, although Hermione noted that the blush was less severe than she was used to. Aww. Her effect on him was wearing off.
"I think you know exactly how appealing your legs are; why else would you flaunt them?" he bit out.
She'd never given them much thought, really. She was only flaunting them because it worked. She cocked her head. "How about my breasts, then?"
That startled him enough that he looked at her. "Excuse me?"
"I showed them to you. Did you like them? Are they too big? Too small? How about the nipples? Too dark? Too big? Not big enough?"
"I didn't notice." He looked away again.
"You want me to refresh your memory?"
"No!" He stared at her. "Seriously, Granger! Have you no shame?"
"Not in my body, no. Bodies are perfectly natural. Besides, I feel like I maintain mine to the best of my abilities. There are, however, certain things that are outside of my control—my nipple size, for instance."
He kept staring at her for a few moments where she merely blithely smiled back before he blinked and shook his head. "For what it's worth, you're embarrassing me."
"I know. But I also know I arouse you."
"I told you that blokes can't control that."
"How much do you want to bet that I could show Harry my legs without him raising a tent in his trousers? Besides, I've kept an eye on the other young wizards I've come across lately. Some look—well, most do, actually—but very few show visual signs of arousal."
"And do you show these other wizards your diddies and throw yourself at them every chance you get?"
Hermione sniggered. "I love it when you show your claws, Malfoy."
"Fuck you, Granger."
"That's what I'm trying to get you to do..."
He roughly inserted the last book he was holding and turned to face her. "Don't you get it? Even if we did do it, it would be cold and impersonal. Why do you want that?"
"Never mind why, but it is what I want." Somehow, she didn't feel like telling him about Ron and her decision.
He snorted. "It's never what girls want."
She raised an eyebrow. "That's funny, coming from someone who's supposedly been with a lot of girls."
"Let me put it this way, then—I don't need for you to have regrets and let my evaluation suffer for it."
"That's not a concern."
"For me it is."
She shook her head, trying to squash the excitement of this sounding an awful lot like negotiation. He had so many different excuses to turn her down. "No, it's not. I'd never let those things influence each other."
"Dragon dung. You let all kinds of other crap influence you."
"I'll write your evaluation first if that changes your mind."
She sighed. Of course not. "Then why are we having this discussion?"
"You could've fooled me."
He didn't reply but merely scowled at her.
His stubbornness really wasn't very titillating. "Look, Draco," she said, intentionally switching to his first name, hoping he’d read sincerity into it. "If you really don't want anything to do with me, then what's the problem? I'm not out to rape you in some dark hallway."
He shot her another dark glance. "You sure about that?"
"No, I accidentally rape boys all the time!" she snapped.
He snorted again. It really wasn't a polite sound.
"I hate to break it to you, Draco," she added, "but you're not that irresistible. I'll eventually get bored and find someone less prudish."
"And how long till that happens?" he asked.
She couldn't prevent the small twitch of her lips. "A rough estimate will be shortly after you stop ogling me and licking your lips whenever you see bare skin."
"I don't do that!"
"Uh-huh. Yes, you do."
He sneered and went to get more books.
Her shirts had become lower cut. She really was asking for a cold. Fortunately, Draco at least didn't have to look at it during classes because of the mandatory school robes. He'd never loved the robes as much as he did these days. How would he ever get any schoolwork done if she was sitting there next to him, flaunting her breasts and rubbing those bare thighs against his?
Granger, of course, seemed to think that this was all some great joke. She could barely look at him without laughing at his plight.
He currently had a theory that she didn’t actually want to sleep with him at all. She was working some elaborate scheme to embarrass him as much as possible as some kind of petty revenge for everything he’d ever done to her and her friends.
Or maybe she was merely playing him for her own amusement.
Of course, maybe she really was out to get laid, but she was still bad news. She was working from a position of spite and couldn’t be trusted not to try to find his secrets and use them against him. She could hardly get him thrown in Azkaban for most of the things he was hiding, but she could make him the laughing stock of Hogwarts. That wasn’t something he was interested in.
So Tuesday night, he did his damnedest not to ogle her inviting thighs or cleavage, and by the next Friday night he’d even somewhat mastered his blushes, to her very obvious great chagrin.
If he could keep this up, she would leave him alone in no time.
Hermione felt like she was floating along the hallway. This had been the best idea she’d had in a while. In fact, it had been the only good idea she’d had for weeks.
The Malfoy thing certainly was a disaster. He seemed to become more and more immune to her advances with each passing day and she hadn’t even got a good snog out of him yet! It was fairly depressing.
In comparison, getting drunk—or at least very tipsy—at the unauthorised party she’d come across quite by accident really was the plan of the year.
True, she should probably have reported every single participant there and confiscated all the alcohol, but why would she do that? She’d broken a fair few rules herself over the years and a party was as harmless as could be.
Besides, she’d hoped that some bloke might take advantage of her. Make Malfoy superfluous. But no such luck. Mallory had been there, but apparently he now had a girlfriend. Too bad. He really was cute. As for the rest of the boys... she supposed one or two had eyed her, but nobody had been aggressive enough and she was tired of taking all the initiative. Was it really too much to ask that every once in a while the boy would initiate contact?
Sighing, she decided to pass by the library. Drunk or not, she was very awake and if she put the last of the books away tonight, she could take it easy tomorrow.
In a few weeks, either Madam Pince would be back or the Headmistress would hire a real temporary replacement. Hermione didn’t mind the work so much, though. They were actually compensating her a little bit for her time and it was always nice with some extra pocket money.
Humming, she entered the library, but then stopped and frowned. Something was off. Why were there lights and parchment on the table? She’d closed the library herself, and who’d sneak in at off hours on a Saturday?
The answer appeared from behind a bookcase and then froze, staring at her.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Malfoy. It’s after-hours, you know.”
“Uh, yeah...” he muttered. “Figured there had to be some perks to constantly sorting this place. I'm behind on an essay.”
“It’s Saturday night! Don’t you have better things to do?”
“Don’t you?” he shot back.
She snorted. He wasn’t going to get her with that. Not today. “I already saw to that,” she said, making a flourish that started out all right, but ended with her stumbling a bit and giggling.
He stared at her again. “Uh, right. I can see that. Maybe I did too.”
“Did you have sex?” she immediately asked.
He groaned. “I thought you said you were going to spare me that.”
“Spare you what? Why would I spare you of anything?"
“You said that whole jealousy thing wouldn't happen,” he elaborated.
“Oh.” She laughed. “It’s not a jealousy thing. I was hoping you might share some details with me.”
“Why would I do that, Granger?”
“Because I need to learn somehow, and the whole male student body is entirely uncooperative.”
He muttered something under his breath that she couldn’t really decipher, even though she strained to hear it, and then a little louder said, “I’m sure that’s not true.”
“No, it is!” She put on her best pout and carefully began moving towards him. “Everyone is so passive, Malfoy. All I want is for someone, anyone, to reach out and touch me. But nobody ever does.”
He shook his head. “That’s not all you want and you know it.”
“But it is,” she insisted. “I just want to be touched.” She’d reached him and slowly raised her hand and put it on his chest. “Like this. See?”
He didn't move away from her, but he wasn't acting very encouraging either. “You wouldn’t stop there.”
She worried her lower lip for a few seconds, giving the pretence of considering his words, before she nodded. “You’re right. I’d probably like a kiss as well. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve been kissed?”
He didn’t answer right away but merely looked at her. After a while, she thought he wouldn’t answer at all, but then he sighed. “Let me guess—sometime before you came back here for your seventh year.”
She nodded again. “Exactly. That’s more than six months, Malfoy! My body is lonely.”
“I don’t doubt that. But you wouldn’t stop there either.”
She glanced up at his eyes to gauge his mood, but found it tremendously hard to read him right now. She took a deep breath. “If I promised to stop there, would you indulge me?”
“What do you mean?”
“If I promised to not push for more tonight, would you kiss me?”
He frowned. “You'd only stop for the night?”
“You can’t ask me to stop altogether, Malfoy. After all, you have the cutest arse in Arithmancy.”
He shot her an exasperated look.
She sighed, disappointment and resignation stealing all of her energy and leaving her with no will to play this game any longer. “It was worth a tr—mmpf!” She stared up at him. He’d covered her mouth with his hand and was intently staring at the door. She didn’t quite understand that reaction. Had he heard something? He was in violation of the rules, but she wasn’t, and she’d merely say she’d asked him to help here tonight, so what was the problem?
“Come on,” he muttered, grabbing her arm and dragging her deeper into the library.
“There’s really no reason to fear getting caught,” she said, still puzzled.
He stopped when they’d reached one of the more obscure corners and turned to face her. “Yes, there is,” he said.
And then he grabbed her shoulders and covered her lips with his own.
Hermione felt a shock go through her, starting at her lips and ending at the tips of her toes. It was a good shock. The kind that left you slightly breathless and excited for more.
If this was tipsy kissing, she saw no reason to ever be sober again.
Draco knew he'd made a bad decision before he was even certain he'd go through with it.
He shouldn't kiss her. It would only encourage her to go for more and cause him endless grief and embarrassment—not to mention inconvenient unfulfilled arousal.
Yet she'd seemed halfway human for once and all this playing nice must be getting to him, because he'd reacted to the vulnerability like he hadn't reacted to anything else she'd ever said or done.
Or maybe he was simply getting off on Harry Potter's little Muggle-born friend being at his mercy.
Either way, he was currently pressed against a warm, soft body, kissing even warmer, softer lips and it was surprisingly nice.
Nice wouldn't do, not at all. He could only imagine his own frustration if she decided that this wasn't a one-off. The way she was eagerly pressing against him was already doing a number on his self-control. No, he needed to convince her—if not himself—that this was better not repeated.
Maybe by introducing some crude reality into the mix?
He began pushing her backwards and she willingly followed. He used unnecessary force to push her against the nearest bookcase, but she didn't even flinch. She merely put her arms around his neck and raised her leg to rub it against the outside of his thigh.
It was all he could do not to purr. He might have been snogged more than her in the past six months, but anything more than that had been sorely lacking, and she was so damn inviting.
It was time to turn it up a notch.
He grabbed her arse and hoisted her up far enough to be able to comfortably grope her breast. This elicited a surprised gasp from her and he expected her to shove him away, but she didn't. Instead she merely bit her lip and arched into his hand.
Torture. Why of all the girls that could act like this did it have to be her?
He couldn't take much more of this. He was already aroused and knew she could feel it. He was touching so much soft flesh, and she didn't seem to mind at all. His hand on her arse had moved under her skirt and was tracing the lacy edge of her knickers. He wondered whether she would object if they dipped inside to explore for a bit but had a very ominous feeling that she wouldn't.
She would let him touch her whilst squirming and moaning and inviting him to go further.
This was bad. On top of everything, he had very vivid mental images of her breasts, her thighs and her arse going through his mind over and over and over again.
"Why not simply go for it?" she whispered, drawing him in to kiss him again. He shivered. He wanted to.
He couldn't. He broke free. "You're drunk," he tamely said.
"So? You don't care and neither do I." She nibbled at his earlobe and for a second his eyes actually rolled back.
"I... can't... afford..." he stammered.
"I told you, it's not an issue," she muttered against his collarbone, sending delicious vibrations through him.
She shook his head so her hair tickled his cheek. "No, it's really not. I've written nothing but praise about you so far and this won't change that."
He drew back. "I thought you weren't going to push for more if I kissed you."
She groaned. "That's so mean."
"This doesn't say a lot about your ability to stick to a deal."
"Hey, I didn't pester you about it. I only asked why you didn't go for it," she objected.
She pouted. "Fine... We'll keep it to whatever you want to do."
"I want to stop now."
"Are you certain?" Her hands were caressing his neck and her voice was so bloody throaty and sexy that he wanted to gag her. "I wouldn't mind more kissing."
He had to clench his jaw to keep his reactions to a minimum and then let go of her assets to grab her hands and remove them from his skin. "We both know that if it were up to you, we wouldn't ever stop."
"Of course we would. We'd need sustenance, after all."
"Please use my given name after snogging me."
"Hermione... I'm... not interested. At all. Please give it up."
"You say that, but it doesn't seem to register with the rest of your body."
"I was talking about your pupils, Draco. They dilate whenever you look at me. Say whatever you want, but that tends to mean want."
"Of course I want you; look at how you're inviting me!"
"Then what's the problem?"
"I..." He faltered. It was too damn embarrassing. "My body might want you, but my mind doesn't."
"Then what does it take to change your mind?"
"I don't want it changed."
She smiled. "Then we're at odds, because I do."
The next morning, Hermione staggered down to breakfast. She didn’t feel sick, per se, but she was parched and had what felt like a dehydration headache.
But at least Malfoy would snog her when she was drunk. She should remember that for another time. And maybe also remember to drink a large glass of water before bed.
She blindly sat down in her usual spot and began loading food onto her plate. She barely even registered that someone sat down next to her.
“Well, you look like shite today,” Ginny said by way of greeting.
Hermione snorted. No doubt. “Eventful night.”
“Yeah, I heard about the party. Shame on you, Head Girl.” She sounded amused rather than censorious.
“I get that a lot. So, what’s the occasion?”
“For you to sit down with me. That hasn’t happened often since... you know...” It wasn’t that Hermione blamed Ginny for withdrawing a bit after Hermione and Ron had officially broken up, but it did make this encounter stand out.
Ginny picked at some toast. “We’re still friends, aren’t we?”
“But I was kind of wondering...”
“I don’t know. Harry has sent me some odd letters. Says that Ron is acting strangely, writing a lot of letters and tearing them up, obsessively checking for owls whilst muttering that this time he’s really done for and you’ll never forgive him.”
Hermione sighed. This would have to be the topic she least wanted to get into. “That’s personal, Ginny.”
“I know. I even thought you were done months ago. But can’t you give me something to tell Harry?”
“Why? So he can tell Ron? I’ll tell him when I’m ready.”
“What did Ron do?”
“I’m not telling you.”
Ginny shook her head and picked some more at her toast. “It doesn’t even matter. I’m sure it was something incredibly stupid. Just remember that in his own thick-skulled way, he loves you. And he’s a good person.”
“But it doesn’t matter?”
“I think I... need to see other people for a while.”
“Fair enough. Can I tell Harry that?”
Ginny nodded and then she was off again.
“Draco, I have to ask you something,” Pansy said without preamble.
“Shh! This is the library!”
She snorted. “And Madam Pince is out sick; everyone knows that. Since when are you at the library this early in the morning, anyway?”
Since he’d figured Granger and her distracting body would be sleeping it off. But saying that really wasn’t an option. “What do you want, Pansy?”
“I want to know why you’re avoiding me.”
“I’m not avoiding you.” Yes, he was. But only because her misplaced guilt for dumping him for Theodore Nott was becoming increasingly awkward.
“You are! And what’s this I hear about you and Granger?”
“All lies, I’m sure.” He faked boredom and returning to read his book.
“She sits next to you in class. Even I have seen that. It’s kind of creepy.”
He twitched. Granger was really out to ruin his reputation. “It’s her way of messing with me. She’s evaluating me, you know, and sees that as her cue to try to make me as uncomfortable as possible.”
“I was told you were exchanging notes the other day. What are you doing?” She crossed her arms and stared at him, accusation all over her face.
“Might as well get some use out of her brains whilst she’s harassing me, no?” He tried to shrug it off but even a glance at Pansy’s unaltered stance told him that it wasn’t working.
“Uh-huh. She’s Muggle-born, Draco! I can set you up with some Pure—“
“No, thank you,” he cut her off. “And I’m not doing anything with her, either. Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
Pansy snorted. “Don’t give me that. Everyone knows you’ve been thinking with your dick since we broke up.”
“Yeah? And why would my dick think of Granger?” He suppressed another wince. His dick did in fact think of Granger from time to time, but how could it not with all her antics?
Pansy pursed her lips and got a very calculating look on her face. “You do seem to fancy the waif-like ones.”
“Yes. Don’t deny it.”
“I don’t see how Granger fits that bill. She actually has curves and some leftover tan from summer. Also, do waifs have quite that many freckles?” Freckles that went down to her chest. And possibly other places. For a brief moment he even tried to recall her thighs, to see if he could remember any freckles there.
“Ah-hah! You’ve noticed her body!” She got an extremely triumphant look on her face.
He couldn’t help the laugh. “Pansy... I hate to be the one to tell you this, but most of us blokes take the measurements of anyone walking past us in the hallway. It’s nothing personal or even something that means we’re interested; it’s simply what we do.”
“Let me count the ways to be sexist...” she muttered. “Okay, fine. I’m just telling you she’s bad news. She could ruin your reputation, your credentials, your prospects, everything. If she got mad at you for anything you’d done, perceived or real, she could destroy your entire future. Not merely because she’s a Muggle-born, but because she’s one of them.”
And this was precisely why he couldn’t rebuff her more forcefully. “Is this some kind of alternate reality where you didn’t leave me to go bonk Theo?”
“You’re so crude.”
“And I’m also right. We’re not together any longer. You lost the prerogative to tell me what to do about other girls.”
“I care about you.”
“But I don’t care what you have to say. So please shut up and leave me alone.”
She didn’t reply but merely stared at him for a few seconds before she turned on her heel and left.
So maybe he still had some issues with how they’d broken up. Besides, her constant attempts to mother and pander to him to ease her own guilty conscience were annoying him like nothing else.