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“Okay, Hermione, just breathe.”
She had been talking to herself for the better part of a half hour. Whether trying to convince herself to continue with the ritual or reprimanding herself for being so ridiculous as to think it would work, Hermione couldn’t say. One second, she was convinced it was the only way to fix everything she had ruined, and the next, she was certain that it would damage everything further.
As she stood in the center of her office, a white pentagram drawn in salt on the dark stone floor, candles lit in a circle around it, Hermione chewed her lip. She only needed to repeat some ancient language exactly as Mister Burke had told her, and then she could have her parents back.
It was that easy.
Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and recited the words from memory. “Voco te, Paimon.” Nothing happened. She steeled her nerves and repeated the words again. Stronger, more confidently. “Voco te, Paimon.”
Everything went eerily still. A beat passed. A sudden roar of wind lifted her skirt and blew her curls around her shoulders. The flames of the candles flickered and flared. She blinked. In the time it took for her eyes to open and focus on the space across from her, a dark figure appeared. It had no defined form, save for the curve of horns at the top of it where she assumed its head to be.
Fear flooded her. It worked. She didn’t plan on it working.
“Granger, what’s—”
The door to her office blew open and she turned to find a wide-eyed Draco Malfoy standing in its frame. His hand clutched the doorknob as his eyes swept over the scene in front of him. She panicked and jumped from the protective circle.
“Get out!” She shouted at him with her arms extended.
“What?” He grabbed onto her hands and pulled her toward him. “What the fuck are you—”
The air shifted and blew and salt scattered across the floor at her feet. They were drenched in sudden darkness. Hermione turned toward the shadowy figure to find that it was gone. It was too late. A broken sob left her and she tore her hands away from his.
“Look at what you’ve done!” Hermione gestured to the empty, still circle behind her. He’d ruined everything. “Nevermind,” she sighed and ran her hands over her tired, crestfallen face. “Just get out of here, Malfoy.”
“Nu-uh.” The click of a tongue, wrapped around a deep, hoarse voice, drew her eyes back to where he stood. “Draco’s otherwise preoccupied.”
Breath left her lungs, squeezed from them by the dread that washed over her.
The circle of candles jumped to life again, lighting her office. Draco was pale, face pinched in a familiar, furious scowl, but he definitely wasn’t Draco Malfoy any longer. Two horns protruded like dark shadows atop his head, contrasting against his platinum hair.
“Get out of him!” Hermione shrieked, hand to her chest as she took quick steps away from the demon-Draco. “I command you to leave his body!”
“I’m afraid not.” Draco chuckled. The sound was wicked, echoing around her chamber as goosebumps rose from her skin. “I quite like it in here. It’s delightfully miserable. This wizard has suffered and it is delicious.”
She gulped. If she could just get to the ancient tome on the corner of her desk and read how to banish this… this thing from him. Hermione took a step back and to the left towards her desk, not daring to take her eyes off of the demon.
“Ah-ah.” He wagged a finger at her, face twisted in a devious sort of smirk. “I don’t think that’s what you want to do, Hermione Granger. We aren’t finished here, after all.”
Wiping her hands on her skirt, Hermione trembled in fright. She’d never once been afraid of Draco, not ever. But now? Her heart ached. What had she done to him? Their relationship at work was tense at best, but never out of hatred, not anymore. After this? How could he ever forgive her — if she could even save him from this?
“Why have you summoned me, witch?” The demon took a step toward her and when she backed up, the backs of her thighs collided with her desk. If she could just lean back and— “You want something from me, or else you wouldn’t have called me here. You don’t seem the type of summon a knight of the underworld for no reason.”
“Draco,” she whispered, gaze flicking between his black eyes. “You have to fight it. Don’t let it win.”
A creepy, echoing laugh boomed through her office. Chills ran up her spine. “You are incredibly boring for a witch,” the demon mused, even as he used Draco’s smirk to taunt her. “I’m not going to hurt him. I am merely borrowing his flesh. He’ll be returned to you right as rain when I’m finished.”
Does one ever truly trust a demon? Hermione surveyed him through tight eyes and decided that no, she didn’t trust him one bit. She crossed her arms and tried to remember what she’s read about banishing the demon once she’d called it forth.
“How about we play a little game.” Draco clapped and rubbed his hands together. The motion felt awkward; Hermione couldn’t imagine Draco ever having done anything similar. She didn’t like it. “If you tell me a secret, I’ll help with your little problem.”
Her parents. That’s why she had done this, after all. Save Draco from demonic possession, or save her parents’ memories. That was her choice.
It really wasn’t any choice at all.
“What do you want to know?” Hermione asked tersely, curling her hands into fists under her arms.
The demon’s lips crawled up Draco’s face.
It knew that it had won.
Draco unwittingly tapped his cheek with a finger and drew closer to her. The black in his eyes swirled like an obsidian storm and he wondered if she knew he could see and hear her. He certainly couldn’t talk to her, given how often he tried to force words through his mouth only to have them disappear the moment they reached his tongue.
Stuck. That’s what he was. He could hear the cackling of whatever had possessed him, taunting him as it wore his body like a costume. If anything, he was getting pissed at the way it used his face to leer at the pretty girl across from him. Its presence was malevolent and there it was alone in a room with Granger.
He wanted to shout at her to run. Get as far away from this thing as she could. Draco could hear its thoughts — none of them were good or decent.
It taunted him like a sinister echo in his mind. Never intelligible words, but rather an archaic language that chilled him to the bone. Yet, outwardly, the creature spoke fluent English in a thick, posh accent, as it caressed the space between it and Hermione with its wicked tongue.
“Tell me,” the demon spoke using his breath and the forced smirk on his face, “all about why you summoned me, Hermione Granger.”
The way her name rolled off his tongue struck Draco in the gut. The demon was toying with her, and who could blame it when she looked so vulnerable sitting on the corner of her desk, eyes flitting about the room nervously. Draco watched through the demon’s eyes as she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and chewed at the skin.
He tried to tell her not to answer. Not to give in. The demon was practically purring over the way she warred with herself. When she opened her mouth to speak, Draco shouted, but the sound died before it ever left his lips.
“My parents lost their memories,” she whispered, eyes darting to the ground at his feet. Draco swallowed, but the demon kept a cool demeanor. “In-in the war.”
“And how did they lose their memories?” He knew. He knew, and he tugged at her heartache until her eyes shone with tears. “Come now, dear, we cannot come to an agreement if you won’t be honest with me.”
Draco saw the way her jaw clenched, the pulse of her neck throbbing under stress. She crossed and recrossed her arms, fists clenching as they nestled under her biceps. If she could see his true face, she might see pride in his smile as he watched her wrestle with her emotions and win with a steady exhale. Hermione blinked twice, lifted her chin, and stared him straight in the eyes.
“I removed their memories,” she answered quite confidently, Draco thought, despite that he was told some time ago by Potter that she never talked about her parents. It was obviously a sore point with her, but her voice didn’t quaiver once. “To keep them safe from Voldemort. I sent them away and removed myself from their lives.”
“Pity,” the demon replied, not sounding very pitying at all. He felt glee course through his blood as the demon leered at her. “And you want my help to restore their memories?”
“It’s in your repertoire, isn’t it?” Hermione, the pure fucking gem of a witch, snarked with pinched lips and a raised brow. Merlin, he loved her like this. If he could shower her in a proud smile, he would, but the demon wouldn’t allow it as he shoved Draco further back into the recesses of his mind. “I gave you my secret. Now you must keep your side of the bargain.”
“Oh-ho, she’s got fire, doesn’t she boy?” The demon’s dark chuckle chilled his nerves and set him on edge. Powerless to do anything but watch Hermione’s lip tremble. “That wasn’t the secret that I was after, no. Why, however was I going to help you if I didn’t have the truth of your request?”
Her eyes narrowed in his direction. Draco’s lips twitched. The demon obviously knew nothing of Hermione Granger.
“So you can do it, then? Return their memories?”
“I can.” The demon reached out for her, but Hermione leaned back onto the desk. Her hand moved to the corner. “Let’s play a game, shall we? I ask you a question and you answer honestly.”
“Fine.” Hermione crossed her legs. Her hand moved over something behind her, but Draco couldn’t see what it was. The demon was too focused on cataloguing her mind; thoughts too quick for Draco to pick up any single thought. “What secret is it that you want from me?”
The demon’s amusement washed over him, twisting his gut in an uncomfortable way. “You know our mutual friend here, do you not?”
“Malfoy?” Hermione froze. Her eyes danced along his body, pausing at his eyes. The planes of her neck constricted as she breathed sharply through her nose. “I wouldn’t call him a friend.”
The demon leered at her, curled lips aching in his cheeks. “Not a friend, but you’re not… turned off by him, are you?”
She blanched. Lips parted. Chest heaved. “What do you mean?”
Draco waited with baited breath. His heart thumped, heavy and quick as the silence lingered between them.
“You don’t call him a friend, but I can see it behind your eyes.” The demon laughed, a twisted sound that filled the room with icy tension. Draco couldn’t pull his eyes away from the witch in front of him. It couldn’t be — could it? “Perhaps you’ve noticed lately that he’s rather dashing?”
Hermione’s answering breath was so heavy, Draco could hear the panic behind it. “I—” She swallowed, eyes darting between his. Her hands clenched behind her. “I— I don’t think I know what you’re talking about.”
The demon cackled, shaking the room like thunder. “I thought we agreed that you would be honest. Stop playing coy, little witch. Admit it — you’ve noticed our Draco more and more lately, haven’t you?”
Her tongue darted out, wetted the chapped edge of her lip. Draco followed the motion like a hallelujah. His body reacted, trousers tight. “I… might have thought—”
“Let me be quite clear,” the demon snapped, crossing his arms; long, spindly fingers gripping onto Draco’s muscles painfully. “I’ll have none of these sheepish lies. You will speak the truth to me, with conviction, or I will simply stay until it pleases me.”
“You can’t!” Hermione jerked forward, hands out in front of her. “I’ll… okay. Okay.” A breath hissed from between her lips and she closed her eyes for a beat before she was staring at him quite plainly. “You’re right, alright? I noticed him. I — I think he’s quite… fit.”
“And when he bent over that desk last week?” The demon pushed on, and the image that it conjured in his head, straight from Hermione’s mind, left no room in his trousers. There it was, easy to see as the clouds in the sky; Granger checked out his arse. He growled, but the demon silenced him.
“Yes.” Hermione hung her head then, turned it away from them. “I’ve thought about him inappropriately. He’s… got a nice arse.”
Fuck. Draco wanted to take her in his arms so bloody fast. Snog her senseless. And the demon could sense it; it restrained him, wouldn’t allow words nor actions from Draco. He was a prisoner behind its vicious game.
The demon creeped up to her, using Draco’s body to pin her between him and the desk. “And if you were forced to be honest with Draco right now, what would you tell him?”
She took a breath. So calm that it set Draco’s nerves on edge. “I would tell him that even though we have nothing in common, and barely like each other, I wouldn’t mind seeing if our chemistry is really hatred or something… more.”
“And?” The demon echoed Draco’s thoughts and he was frozen as he watched her lips scowl and her eyes narrow. He missed the way her hand moved, the way her hair sparked at the ends. All he could see was the darkness in her eyes as she caught his stare again.
“Paimon, Abolesce!” Hermione shouted suddenly, and Draco’s world went utterly black.
The candles that had been flickering on and off went out at the same time she heard Draco’s body hit the ground with a weighty thunk. Hermione waved her wand around and cast a bright blue light in the room. She ran towards Draco’s prone body on the floor and kneeled beside him. The floor was hard on her knees, but she ignored it as she reached forward and set the back of her hand on his forehead.
Was it gone? Did she just ruin her chance to get her parents’ memories restored? Would it have been worth the cost, anyway?
She would be back at square one. But she’d never do this again; never mess with the Dark Arts and outside influences. If she was going to get her parents’ memories back, Hermione would trust in St. Mungo’s.
It wasn’t worth this. It could have ended so much worse. She could have lost Draco forever and while she didn’t know if they’d ever be more than hesitant co-workers, Hermione would never be able to face him if somehow he’d wound up possessed for the rest of her life.
She cursed under her breath. Her fingers swept through his soft blond hair; she never thought it would feel so silky against her skin. He looked so relaxed like that, unconscious on the floor. Her head tilted to the side and a small smile quirked her lips.
Hermione started to pull her hand away, but Draco suddenly lifted his hand and stopped her. His eyes fluttered open; the pale gray that stared back at her was dazed and intent, flicking between her eyes and her lips.
“Did you mean it?” His lips barely moved, voice a whisper.
“Of course not,” she answered automatically. He sat straight up and she leaned back, heart hammering so fast that she swore he could hear it in her quiet office.
“You’re lying.” Draco reached out, fingers grazing her cheek. “Merlin, please tell me you’re lying.”
“The demon—” Hermione chewed on her lip and dropped her gaze to the ground between them. “Is it gone?”
“It is.” He lifted her chin and offered her a small smile. “Is it true that you checked out my arse?”
She laughed, a blush creeping up her cheeks. “It is.”
“You fancy me,” he said on a single, low breath. His fingers trailed from her chin, along her jaw, and curled around the back of her head.
“I fancy you,” she agreed quietly as she watched his gaze flick to her lips.
It was going to happen, she knew, and she had only a moment to stop it. They’d always been at odds, always snarky, always just outside one another’s orbit. And now, suddenly, they were something else entirely. Hermione exhaled sharply and closed the distance between their lips.