Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/13625577.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Major_Character_Death, Rape/Non-Con,
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Hermione_Granger/Thorfinn_Rowle, Hermione_Granger/Viktor_Krum, Hermione
      Granger/Theodore_Nott, Thorfinn_Rowle/Original_Female_Characters, Harry
      Potter/Ginny_Weasley
  Character:
      Hermione_Granger, Thorfinn_Rowle, Antonin_Dolohov, Harry_Potter, Ron
      Weasley, Ginny_Weasley, Reina_Rowle
  Additional Tags:
      Slow_Burn, Angst, Fluff, Violence, Oral_Sex, Smut
  Collections:
      The_Death_Eater_Express
  Stats:
      Published: 2018-02-09 Updated: 2018-03-23 Chapters: 7/? Words: 32489
****** A Promise Unspoken ******
by Kittenshift17
Summary
     Thorfinn Rowle had a mission: Ruin Hermione Granger's life like she'd
     almost ruined his. To trap a lion cub is easy, but when this little
     lioness grows up Thorfinn will have to walk a knife-edge between hate
     and love to avoid her sharp claws. Revenge is a dish best served cold
     and unspoken promises are deadly.
Notes
     ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: Canimal and Freya Ishtar are responsible for
     infecting me with this plunny. Canimal's mention of this opening
     scene, in passing, in her story: The Dark Mage's Captive, is what
     sparked the idea. Canimal is also responsible for Thorfinn referinng
     to Hermione, in later chapters, as 'Princess'. Reina Rowle is a non-
     canon character Canimal invented and I ran with. If you wish to
     include her in your own scribblings, you must PM her for permission
     to do so.
     Fancast: Chris Hemsworth as Thorfinn Rowle.
     Beta love: Freya Ishtar
     JOIN THE DEATH EATER EXPRESS - THE FACEBOOK GROUP STARTED BY MYSELF,
     CANIMAL AND FREYA ISHTAR - FOR EXCLUSIVE SNEAK PEEKS, ARTWORKS AND
     OTHER GOODIES PERTAINING TO ALL THINGS DEATH EATER.
***** Chapter One *****
                              A Promise Unspoken
                               By Kittenshift17
===============================================================================
                                  CHAPTER ONE
===============================================================================
Horror. That's what she felt when she rounded the corner in the Library of
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry on the fifteenth day of term. Her
eyes widened in revulsion at the sight before her. Right in front of her eyes,
in full view of anyone using this section of the library, a big blonde seventh
year Slytherin boy was leaning against the bookshelves, his trousers around his
ankles and his expression wrought with bliss.
Kneeling on the floor before him was a dark-haired Hufflepuff girl and, despite
her young age, Hermione Granger didn't need to be a genius to figure out what
she was doing as the Hufflepuff's head bobbed up and down in front of the boy's
groin. Drawing in a sharp gasp of shock – what were they thinking, doing
something like that in a library? – Hermione backpedalled, not wanting them to
see she'd caught them. She'd heard rumours about Slytherins and the last thing
she wanted was to be caught by one who was experiencing fellatio and had such
little regard for the rules that he was doing so in the library.
It didn't at all bode well for her continued sanity or peace of mind to catch
such a boy in such an act. One she was morally obligated to report. Not matter
how alarmingly handsome he might be and no matter how he might be enjoying what
he was currently experiencing. The girl on her knees before him was making
sucking noises and, if she weren't so revolted, Hermione Granger might have
found herself morbidly intrigued by the sight the older boy and girl made as
they practiced oral sex.
His hands were tangled in the girl's dark hair, his head tipped back as though
floating in a seas of bliss, and his expression was one of pleasure while
Hermione tried to back away without being caught. No matter how intrigued she
may or may not be, this was against the rules, it was disgusting and it was
illegal. She needed to report it and she needed to avoid being spotted by
either rebellious party as she did so. Especially the Slytherin. He was likely
to make her pay if she tattled on him, or probably even if she interrupted
them.
Hermione backed slowly away, being careful where she put her feet and biting
her lip on a hiss of surprise when she brushed against a book not properly
filed. It toppled from the shelf and hit the floor with a soft thud. Hermione
stifled her cry of pain when the heavy book landed on her foot, not wanting to
be caught - something that proved useless when the boy's blue eyes snapped open
and landed on her. Hermione expected that, having been caught, he might be
embarrassed; that he might cease his actions immediately or at the very least
attempt to stop the girl or to order Hermione away. She hoped he'd be decent
about it and feel remorse over what he was doing, desecrating such a sanctuary
as the school library with his vile behaviour.
She hoped in vain.
The boy's half-lidded blue gaze fell upon her and a wicked smirk grew upon his
handsome face. Hermione covered her mouth, her eyes wide with the shock of such
a sight. The boy began to chuckle very softly as though being caught by someone
so young heightened his amusement, rather than mortifying him. His partner
tipped her head, having heard his chuckle and probably thinking she was doing
something wrong.
"Something funny?" she asked, pulling her mouth from his turgid flesh and
shuffling her knees upon the rough carpet.
Hermione's eyes widened in horror and then slammed shut when she caught sight
of the boy's private business, every throbbing inch of it on display and
standing at attention. A terrible serpent reared and ready to spit venom at
her. The muffled sounds of slight protest and surprise that Hermione could only
imagine stemmed from the girl suddenly finding her mouth full once more, met
her ears, and Hermione may have gagged just a little.
She peeked through her lashes as she ducked down for the book that had landed
on her foot before shoving it haphazardly back onto the shelf. Hermione hated
herself when a lip-smacking sound of someone trying to keep from drooling
coupled with a low groan snapped her attention back to the couple for just a
second. The last thing Hermione saw was the boy winking wickedly at her,
clearly extremely amused by her embarrassment, before she spun on her heels and
raced away in search of Madam Pince.
The image of that boy in all his naked, erect glory, winking at her
lasciviously, seemed to be burned in the back of her brain and Hermione tripped
over her own feet, and a chair, and almost landed on a disgruntled Ravenclaw as
she raced away. She searched desperately for Madam Pince. She was sure that if
she just found the librarian and put a stop to the behaviour, she wouldn't have
to spend the rest of her life haunted by the sight of a hulking Viking of a
Slytherin boy with his serpentine trouser spear. She was certain that if she
found Madam Pince, she wouldn't have to worry about the boy threatening her
into silence or about stammering embarrassedly for the rest of her natural
life.
"What do you think you are doing? Running in the library?" Madam Pince hissed
when Hermione raced out into the main party of the library and stumbled over to
her desk, her cheeks still crimson and her breath coming in sharp gasps.
"M-Madam P-P-Pince, there's a boy and a girl being extremely i-i-inappropriate
in the Goblin War section of the library," Hermione blurted immediately, her
revulsion evident in her tone despite the way she stammered and blushed, "Right
up against the shelves, knocking books on the floor. They're…."
"They're what?" Madam Pince asked. Her eyes narrowed dangerously at the idea of
anyone being inappropriate in any manner within her literary fortress.
"P-P-Practicing f-f-fellatio," Hermione whispered. Her eyes were wide and
frightened, her cheeks still glowing as she tattled on the senior students for
their behaviour.
A half-choked, strangled sort of squeak left the librarian's thin lips and her
eyes bugged in her head, widening so far Hermione feared her eyeballs might
fall right out of their sockets. She too turned a mottled shade of red, but
rather than simply being embarrassed - as Hermione was - the librarian was
livid at the idea of her sacred sanctum being so befouled. Hermione watched
Madam Pince clutch at her bony chest for a moment, looking beyond horrified.
She dashed away as fast as she could without actually running – that was
against the rules - and Hermione pursed her lips as the librarian disappeared
in the direction the couple had been being inappropriate.
She couldn't stop thinking about the sight burned into her retinas. The tall
blonde-haired, blue-eyed boy with more muscles than sense – apparently – and a
cock the length of her forearm, winking at her. All while his cock was licked,
sucked and swallowed right down some poor girl's throat. Sweet Merlin, Hermione
thought she might faint. She was in danger of swooning with a combination of
disgust over the rule-breaking, awe over the sight he had made in all his
naked, rippling perfection, and fear over the utter absurdity of what he might
do to her when that boy realised she'd tattled on him.
"THORFINN ROWLE! This is a library!" The librarian's voice came a few minutes
later. Hermione cringed as everyone in the vicinity looked up in shock, all of
them terrified of the shrill sound within the usually quiet sanctum.
"HOW DARE YOU DO SUCH VILE THINGS?" Madam Pince shrieked. "DESECRATING THESE
BOOKS AND DISRESPECTING THIS INSTITUTION WITH SUCH BEHAVIOUR! THE TWO OF YOU
ARE GOING STRAIGHT TO THE HEADMASTER'S OFFICE! I'LL SEE YOU BOTH EXPELLED FOR
THIS!"
Hermione cringed in horror that she might've inadvertently gotten two people
expelled – her own biggest fear. The idea was alarming, but at the same time
she didn't feel too badly. This was a library, for goodness sake! How dare they
engage in such acts in a public setting? It was against school rules. It
was against the law! They deserved everything they got. And right up against
the bookshelves, too! Disgusting. Wretched people, that's what they were.
Hermione refused to feel bad about them being in trouble for something they'd
done, knowingly breaking the rules and risking this exact punishment.
She continued to assure herself she'd done the right thing even as the
strapping Slytherin boy and his mortified Hufflpeuff accomplice were both frog
marched around the corner and towards the doors of the library. To make matters
worse, the blonde boy didn't even look repentant. His cheeks weren't stained
with embarrassment over his actions. Not like his partner's were. He looked
smug. Amused, even. Indeed, he was refastening his trousers and re-buckling his
belt as his ear was pinched and pulled on by the irate librarian. Something he
was clearly only allowing the woman to do to keep from further irking her,
given that he was almost a foot taller than the short woman and had to stoop
just to have his ear pinched at all.
It was obvious to Hermione that the boy could've pulled away if he wanted to.
The Hufflepuff girl, on the other hand, burst into tears of mortification as
she was marched past several other students, Hermione included. She was trying
to wipe her mouth free of whatever she'd gotten into it during her romp with
the Slytherin and she winced at the grip the librarian had on her ear. The few
other students in the library – all Ravenclaws – looked disgusted by their
behaviour, all of them shaking their heads condemningly even if they didn't
know exactly what had been going on.
Hermione cringed a little when the blue eyes of the Slytherin – Thorfinn Rowle,
she assumed – landed on her where she was stood, arms folded, glaring in their
direction. He leered at her, his eyes narrowing a bit, a glitter of anger in
those stormy depths. For a terrible moment he looked like he might explode at
her in a rage, break free of his punishment and attack her for getting him in
trouble. Her heart leapt into her throat and Hermione flinched back when he
took a threatening step in her direction. Hermione squeaked involuntarily with
pure terror. Something about the noise seemed to calm the boy because suddenly
he straightened once more and looked as though he'd never been angry. He even
winked again as he was dragged past her.
Hermione gulped at the promise in his voice and in his eyes, wondering if maybe
she ought to have just minded her own business when he threatened her quietly,
clearly ignoring the temper-tantrum and the verbal dressing-down Madam Pince
was giving the pair of miscreants. Fear filled her at the unspoken promise of
pain in his eyes as he hissed;
"I'm going to get you for this, little lion cub."
***** Chapter 2 *****
                              A Promise Unspoken
                               By Kittenshift17
===============================================================================
                                  CHAPTER TWO
===============================================================================
"I demand they both be expelled from Hogwarts immediately, Headmaster!" Madam
Pince hissed in Dumbledore's office several long minutes later, while Thorfinn
Rowle tried not to roll his eyes at the woman's tantrum.
"I hardly think that they should be robbed of their education over an
indiscretion, Irma," Dumbledore attempted to calm the witch while offering
Thorfinn's partner in crime – Helena Crawford – a handkerchief for the tears
she shed.
He lost the battle not to roll his eyes at the sight she made. Tender-hearted
Hufflepuffs were so dramatic.
"INDISCRETION!?" Pince exploded. "Albus they were… a poor first year girl saw
and hastened to tell me straight away."
"Tattling little bitch," Thorfinn muttered under his breath. He glanced around
Dumbledore's office with interest at the many magical devices he kept within
it.
The portraits all muttered to one another in horror over his receiving a
blowjob in the library, but Thorfinn could tell it was mostly an act. The wink
Phineas Nigellus Black shot in his direction told him they all knew about the
Hogwarts Rite of Passage handed down through the ages of graduating wizards. A
long list of tasks to check off the bucket list, as it were, before graduation
day. Every graduating seventh year had a sacred duty to do his utmost to
complete that rite of passage, achieve every task on the list and earn the
magical tattoo it granted as a badge of honour.
Thorfinn's list was shrinking by the day. At this rate he'd be finished and
inked long before graduation. He only had about twenty things left to go on the
long list of more than one hundred tasks. Every graduating Slytherin male knew
about it, even Phineas Nigellus Black, former headmaster and rumoured creator
of the Rites. Thorfinn smirked at the portrait in return and tipped his head
back to stare at the ceiling while the librarian and the headmaster continued
to argue.
"Mr Rowle, is it true that a first year saw the two of you engaging in sexual
conduct within the library?" Dumbledore asked. The Headmaster sighed as he
turned his attention from the apparently Silenced librarian to interrogate him.
"Sexual conduct is against school rules, Professor," Thorfinn replied. He
wasn't about to be tricked into admitting guilt that easily. His eyes flashed
with anger again as he recalled the snitching little first year who'd caught
them going at it.
"I am well aware," Dumbledore replied coolly. He eyed him carefully over his
half-moon spectacles and Thorfinn reckoned the old geezer was practicing
Legilimency on him when he felt a headache begin to niggle behind his eyes.
"However, if it's true that you have potentially corrupted another student with
your vulgarity you will be punished severely, Mr Rowle."
"I would never…" Thorfinn immediately lied through his teeth.
"Keep in mind that lying to your teachers is also against school rules and will
result in further punishment before answering me, Mr Rowle," Dumbledore
interrupted Thorfinn's protests before he could utter them, his eyes glittering
dangerously.
"She was a kid," Thorfinn sighed. "I doubt she knew what we were doing,"
"Irma reports the girl used the terminology 'performing fellatio' when
describing just what she believed you to be doing with Miss Crawford,"
Dumbledore replied. Thorfinn's eyes widened slightly at the frank manner the
Headmaster was employing.
Helena hiccupped in shock next to him, her cheeks flooding red again and
Thorfinn rolled his eyes.
"If she's the type of freaky kid who knows the terminology, Professor, I don't
reckon I'll have scarred her for life," Thorfinn retorted, a smirk on his lips.
"You realise you are facing the very real threat of expulsion from Hogwarts,
don't you Mr Rowle?" Dumbledore asked. He raised one eyebrow at Thorfinn for
his tone and his negligent attitude. Thorfinn almost rolled his eyes again.
Fucking old goat and his preferential treatment of Gryffindors.
He'd bend the rules and let the Boy Wonder play Quidditch in his first year,
but one little incident of being sucked off in the library and the bastard was
ready to kick him out, just because he was a Slytherin.
"Albus, do keep in mind that teenagers are disgusting beasts who cannot be
constantly expected to refrain from their baser urges," Phineas Black spoke up
in his defence, though it didn't much sound like it.
"Yes, thank you, Phineas," Dumbledore said. He levelled a glare at the portrait
just in time for the door to the office to fly open with a dramatic bang, a
swirl of black fabric announcing the entrance of Professor Snape.
"You summoned me, Albus?" Snape said. His tone could always be counted upon to
suck all the fun out of a room and make people wary enough to sit up, shut
their mouths and pay attention. Beside him, Helena stopped sniffling and
sobbing and the Silenced librarian ceased her gesticulating. All because of
Snape's mere presence. Thorfinn envied him the skill.
"Ah Severus, perhaps you can shed some light on things here," Dumbledore said,
smiling pleasantly. "You see, Mr Rowle and Miss Crawford have just been caught
engaging in oral sex within the confines of the library, where they were
stumbled upon - mid-act - by a first year."
Snape's withering glare made Thorfinn cringe just a bit. Now he was in for it.
Snape wasn't likely to let Dumbledore expel him from the school, but once
things were dealt with here, Thorfinn expected he would receive additional,
private punishment from Snape for being caught in the first place.
"Which first year might that have been?" Snape asked. His nostrils flared in a
way that rather unsettled Thorfinn.
"Hermione Granger, I believe."
"Ah, our newest resident swot," Snape sneered. "Of course. She would be the
only first year scouring the confines of unused sections of the library and
likely to tattle."
"I hardly think her character should be called into question in this instant.
Irma is demanding I expel both students from the school."
"For a little inappropriate groping?" Snape snorted, arching one eyebrow. "Will
we be expelling the entire Hogwarts population for their similar – if unproven
– activities?"
"The rest of the school is not currently my concern. As you know this is a
serious matter and Mr Rowle - in particular - has a long record of past
transgressions. I do believe he was informed on his last stint of bad behaviour
that he would be expelled if he caused any more trouble after that explosion he
caused last year."
"Expulsion for acting like a horny teenager Albus? Really?" Phineas spoke up
again, Slytherins sticking together before the biased Gryffindor-lover.
Thorfinn was dimly aware his heart was pounding heavily in his chest, fearful
of being shipped home without graduating over a blowjob. Not even a good one,
either.
Narrowing his eyes and folding his arms, Thorfinn began to plot the doom of the
tattling little lion cub who was responsible for this mess. If she'd kept her
mouth shut, none of this would have happened and he wouldn't have a new black
mark on his record two weeks into the term.
"I hardly think expulsion is warranted." Dumbledore held his hands up. "But we
can hardly allow students to think this is acceptable behaviour. Canoodling is
not allowed and to make matters worse, they were caught by a first year."
Thorfinn watched with growing amusement when Pince began gesticulating wildly,
unable to vocalise her thoughts but clearly ranting about the damage and
desecration of books.
"What do you suggest?" Snape raised one eyebrow, also eyeing Pince with masked
amusement. "A few months' worth of detention will surely dent the amount of
time they have to engage in sexual behaviour on school grounds."
"I was considering detention in addition to the elimination of privileges
afforded senior students. No Hogsmeade trips. No extracurricular activities –
such as Quidditch – and potentially a ban from entering the library,"
Dumbledore replied evenly.
"You mean to exclude a seventh year with a prospective career in the Quidditch
industry from playing, as a result of a non-Quidditch related incident, whilst
flouting the laws on age restrictions and allowing Potter to play?" Snape
hissed. His eyes flashed dangerously at the idea before Thorfinn could even
begin to fear for his Quidditch career. "Tell me, Dumbledore, how much more
preferential treatment do you mean to offer the snot-nosed little brat? Perhaps
a list of all the things he'll be getting away with would save tedious
arguments over your favouritism?"
Dumbledore eyes flashed and a silent battle of wills began for several long
minutes. No Hogsmeade? No Quidditch? Detention for months? No access to the
library? How was he meant to graduate if he wasn't allowed to do his bloody
homework? That was bang out of order. Thorfinn's temper began to flair and he
made a conscious effort to stuff his wand deeper into his pocket so he wouldn't
do something stupid, like set the Headmaster's office on fire. The fucking
bastard wanted to screw with his future. Thorfinn Rowle wasn't going to just
bend over and take that kind of shit from a senile old man who was more
interested in babying a child celebrity than justice for all students.
Narrowing his eyes hatefully as his temper fizzed out of control, manifesting
as accidental magic that made the fireplace flare angrily, Thorfinn recognised
that he couldn't go after Dumbledore for this. Not directly. No, he'd broken
the rules and Dumbledore had to enforce them. Oh, but once he'd graduated,
Thorfinn was going to bury the old man.
"No one else was suitable to fill the positon of Seeker for Gryffindor,
Severus, we have already discussed this," Dumbledore snapped. Clearly he was
exhausted of the topic already.
"If you can make exceptions to the rules for a child, you can make it for
Slytherin's best player and team captain," Snape retorted coldly. "And
I know you don't mean to imply any student would be capable of passing their
NEWTS without access to the school library."
Snape's tone positively dripped with disdain for the idea.
"How do you propose to punish them, then?" Dumbledore snapped, both wizards
ignoring a still-gesticulating Pince.
"Detention until Christmas break. No Hogsmeade trips until after Christmas.
Loss of house points. Need I remind you, Albus, that this is hardly the first
incident of student fornication on Hogwarts grounds? I should think the last
thing you would want is more concern from parents after the debacle with the
pregnant witch graduating last year?"
"All the more reason to make an example." Dumbledore began arguing before one
of the portraits, whom Thorfinn didn't know, cleared his throat conspicuously.
The old man paused before sighing wearily, pulling his glasses from his nose
and beginning to polish them on his robes.
"Very well, we will do it your way, Severus. Fifty points from each of you for
your behaviour. No Hogsmeade until after Christmas. Daily detention until next
term recommences in the New Year. If either of you are caught engaging in
sexualised behaviour for the remainder of your Hogwarts career you will be
expelled. You will not speak of this to anyone, and I will be owling Miss
Granger in the morning to ensure she does not feel the need to tell anyone else
about your indiscretions. Neither of you will attempt to contact Miss Granger
regarding this matter either, is that clear?"
Dumbledore snapped out orders, clearly fed up with people for the day. When
Helena hiccupped her agreement and Thorfinn glared at the man but gave a curt
nod, they were all dismissed. As he got to his feet, Thorfinn knew even without
him saying a word, that Snape meant to continue the discussion in his own
office and he saw both students out, escorting Helena to the Hufflepuff Common
Room in silence before gliding off towards his own office where he could
chastise Thorfinn in peace.
Thorfinn rolled his eyes again, sighing in annoyance and trying to push through
the temper still sparking dangerously inside him. He knew that if he didn't get
a hold of himself he would fly off the handle at Snape and if there was ever a
wizard he didn't want to be on the bad side of, it was Snape. The man had a
worse temper that Thorfinn did. The last thing he needed was an up-close and
personal encounter with the vicious and cutting Potions Master. Thorfinn knew
who would come out on top in that duel, and it wasn't him.
Neither of them said a word as Snape stalked across his office and rounded his
desk. A flick of the man's wand slammed the door and Thorfinn braced for what
he expected would be a tirade of insults and belittling comments about his
levels of intelligence.
"Explain to me, Mr Rowle, which part of a girl being hauled out of here for
teenage pregnancy lends itself to the notion of getting caught engaging in
sexual activity?" Snape hissed. Thorfinn blinked stupidly for a second, his own
anger ebbing in the face of the vicious hiss rather than the shouting he'd been
expecting.
"I…"
"Do not believe me naive enough that I am not fully aware of what you were
doing in the library and why you were doing it, Thorfinn!" Snape snapped. His
eyes flashed angrily at Thorfinn's pathetic attempt to explain himself. "How
could you possibly have been caught?"
"That nosey little bitch came snooping." Thorfinn shrugged.
"And I don't suppose you made things easy for yourself by acting contrite,
ceasing your actions or otherwise trying to keep the girl from tattling?" Snape
said. He pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance.
"What do you think?" Thorfinn scoffed. "Pretty sure the little brat saw my
cock, too."
"Delightful!" Snape hissed. "As always, your gift for tact and your gentlemanly
manners set you apart from your peers, Mr Rowle."
Thorfinn was pretty sure that if words had flavour, Snape's would all be burn-
a-hole-in-your-tongue sour. He hid his smile at the man's obvious annoyance
with him, choosing not to be offended by the heavy sarcasm in Professor Snape's
voice.
"Let me see your list," Snape said when he offered no self-defence. Thorfinn
smirked, fishing the scroll of parchment from his pocket and handing it over to
his Head of House.
Snape unfurled it and scanned it with his eyes.
"If you get caught on any of these remaining activities, Thorfinn, I will not
be able to protect you again," Snape warned him quietly. He showed no sign of
being impressed with Thorfinn's progress.
"Yes, sir." Thorfinn nodded solemnly.
"As it is, I will have to do something to placate Madam Pince in order for you
to be allowed back into the library without her screeching at you and following
you everywhere." Snape looked extremely displeased and wrinkled his hooked nose
in annoyance over the notion.
Thorfinn felt a little nauseas at the idea.
"I'm really hoping that means you plan on threatening the witch or modifying
her memory, sir," he said quietly to the Potions Master, wrinkling his own nose
a little.
Snape slanted a cool gaze at him.
"Given that I've yet to see the woman actually show interest in anything other
than books and the destruction of students who damage them, I imagine I will
have to resort to something of that nature, Mr Rowle," Snape replied. "Though
the consequences of performing illegal memory charms on a colleague would
likely not be very pleasant."
"Better than… you know," Thorfinn said.
"Given that Pince is potentially asexual, I would personally consider it quite
the accomplishment to seduce the woman into forgiving your indiscretions,"
Snape said evenly, his voice completely devoid of any emotion and his face
blank of all expression.
Thorfinn wondered how he did that. He'd never been able to manage it himself.
"Should that be successful, and I suspect it will be," Snape went on, "there is
also the matter of dealing with the student who tattled on you. A first year,
you said?"
"Now I really hope you're implying memory charms rather than sexual bribery,
Professor." Thorfinn chuckled as he accepted the list of his remaining tasks
back from the professor.
"It would behoove you to refrain from such vulgar thoughts, Mr Rowle." Snape's
eyes flashed. "As it happens I merely intended to threaten the annoying little
swot into silence. It will be up to you to exact your own revenge on the girl,
Thorfinn."
Thorfinn felt a smirk grow across his face.
"Keep in mind that I will not be able to protect you if you get in any more
trouble this year." Snape reminded him when he spotted the bloodthirsty grin on
Thorfinn's face. "And be aware that Dumbledore will be paying extremely close
attention to how you interact with the child and what becomes of her in coming
months. Should anything ill-fated befall her before you have graduated, I do no
doubt the Headmaster will expel you from Hogwarts."
Thorfinn's brow furrowed slightly.
"I'm going to have to be very Slytherin about this, aren't I?" he asked
quietly.
"Indeed." Snape nodded, the faintest hint of a smirk twitching the corners of
his mouth. "Do try to ensure that you keep in mind the seriousness of her
transgression, Thorfinn. If not for my intervention, you would be on you way
home this evening to explain to your parents why it was you'd been thrown out
of school. She has threatened your intended career, your graduation and
essentially your entire future. Not to mention she is an insufferable know-it-
all. Be sure that you repay her kindness."
"Yes, sir," Thorfinn said with a smirk.
"Report to my office every evening between eight and nine for your daily
detention, Mr Rowle," Snape said briskly, as though he hadn't just encouraged
one student to pit his will against that of another and hadn't just suggested
Thorfinn destroy the girl's entire life.
"Of course, sir." Thorfinn agreed readily, getting to his feet and recognising
his dismissal.
He made for the door quietly, his mind already working through the
possibilities of how best to destroy the life of a tattle-tale twelve year old
witch.
"Do not get caught again, Thor," Snape called softly when he reached the door,
his hand upon the doorknob. "Either with your list or with your revenge against
Miss Granger."
Thorfinn recognised the concern in the professor's words at the use of his
nickname rather than his full name or his title. Snape might generally be an
arsehole to the school populous, but that tone told Thorfinn that, no matter
how angry he might be, or how heartless he might appear, or how wretched he was
to deal with, the man approved the actions of his students and cared for their
well-being.
He didn't answer the man as he left the room, but Thorfinn nodded to himself as
he closed the door softly behind him, already scanning through the best ways to
take someone down whilst making it look like he'd never be to blame for such a
thing. His cunning mind flared as an idea began to form, the possibilities
spinning behind his eyes over how he would break the little witch. She'd almost
ruined his life with her supposedly innocent little habit of following the
rules.
She was going to pay dearly indeed for that mistake.
***** Chapter 3 *****
                              A Promise Unspoken
                               By Kittenshift17
===============================================================================
                                 CHAPTER THREE
===============================================================================
She had been silenced and Hermione Granger could not be more livid about it if
she tried. First she had been summoned to the Headmaster's office, receiving
his owl at breakfast the day after the incident in the library, where she had
been told that she had done to right thing of reporting the senior students.
Then she'd been told that though it had been the right thing to put a stop to
such behaviour on school grounds and that she wasn't in trouble for doing so,
she'd been asked politely not to tell anyone else what she'd seen.
Hermione had been beyond appalled when Dumbledore had gone on to explain that
the Board of Governors were unhappy with things at Hogwarts after an incident
of teenage pregnancy the year before. That if the story of more sexual
behaviour taking place on school grounds was discovered, the school might be
forced to close. That the students involved had both been given detention and
had their privileges suspended until after the New Year. He'd also told her to
be on her guard lest the Slytherin boy involved – Thorfinn Rowle – or any of
his friends tried to intimidate, hurt or hex her.
She'd been told to report anything they did to her and they would be dealt with
accordingly. Told that she wasn't to mention to anyone else what she'd seen in
the library.
As if that hadn't left a bad enough taste in her mouth – not that she'd planned
on blabbing to anyone else that she'd seen a boy's genitals for the first time
or that she'd witnessed such transgressions at all – she'd then been asked to
stay back at the end of class after her Potions lesson. Professor Snape had
seen fit to inform her that tattle-tales were not taken to kindly within
Hogwarts and that she would do well to stop being such an insufferable know-it-
all and to mind her own business.
By the time she'd left his office after the verbal dressing-down and the veiled
threats he offered her when it came to her conduct pertaining to his Slytherin
students, Hermione had been in tears and had been shaking with fury and a
little fear. The man was scary at best, not to mention horrible. To add insult
to injury, he'd also reiterated that she shouldn't speak of anything like that
again and that unless a student's life was in danger, it was no concern of hers
what other students did in their free time on school grounds. He'd even hinted
that she had best be on her guard when it came to Thorfinn Rowle because the
boy was likely to exact his revenge on her in a most unpleasant manner.
Since then, Hermione had been on edge. She saw people breaking the rules and
she didn't say anything. She kept her hand down and didn't offer to answer any
more questions in Snape's classes and she had trouble even looking in
Dumbledore's direction. She was positively disgusted with the actions of both
teachers. They were essentially condoning illegal behaviour for the sake of
avoiding investigation of the institution and the sake of disgusting, perverted
boys who happened to be good at Quidditch. Rowle hadn't even been removed from
the Quidditch team or had his captaincy stripped from him, despite his
behaviour.
He was extremely creepy and Hermione found herself rather alarmed at all times
whenever there was even the faintest chance that he might hex her or say
something to her or even hurt her. She'd spotted him watching her across the
Great Hall a few times, a cruel little smile on his face as though he were
amused by something pertaining to her. Not knowing what he had planned was like
torture and Hermione gained a new depth of understanding when it came to the
psychological effects of anticipation as she waited to see how she would be
repaid for dobbing on him.
She'd begun paying attention whenever she was in the corridors, always on the
lookout for the hulking blonde boy. He was hard to miss when he was actually
around, given his size. Taller than everyone in the entire school except for
Hagrid, the Groundskeeper, he towered over his classmates and most of the
teachers. His golden blonde hair gleamed in the firelight, cascading
haphazardly around his shoulders like a huge lion's mane, untamed and rather
intimidating, making him look all the more fierce and wild somehow. Like he was
a lion himself, just waiting to pounce upon his prey.
She grew to be hyper-aware of the boy, all the more concerned when she noticed
little things about him. She'd learned to identify the scent of his cologne – a
citrus and smoke concoction that was actually rather pleasant. She could pick
him out in a crowd by the sound of his voice or even his laugh alone, the low,
deep tones of his voice almost a caress in her ears and his boisterous laughter
both cruel, yet strangely uplifting at the same time.
Almost a week after the incident in the library she'd been hurrying through the
corridors on the way to Transfiguration when she'd stumbled slightly – jostled
by an older student and unbalanced thanks to the number of books she was
lugging along in her school bag. She'd tripped and would have fallen right at
the boy's feet if not for the way his long strides carried him so far with
every step. Hermione had been beyond mortified when she'd tripped right into
him, her nose bumping against his tight stomach and beginning to sting like it
might bleed.
His huge hands had dwarfed her tiny frame when he'd gripped her shoulders to
straighten her, looking concerned at being attacked by a first year before
realising it was her. Hermione's cheeks had turned crimson when she'd looked up
to meet his blue eyes fearfully, her own hands pushing against his solid form
as she tried to right herself.
"Watch it, little lion cub," he'd said unsympathetically when he'd realised who
she was.
Hermione's nose had chosen that moment to begin bleeding and other than the
faintest flicker of something in his blue eyes, his face had showed no emotion
as a trickle of blood had run out her nose, down her top lip and dripped onto
her white school shirt. Other than to literally pick her up right off her feet
until she dangled a foot from the floor before setting her to one side and out
of his path, Thorfinn Rowle had done nothing to help her. He'd gone on his
merry way with his dark haired friend, laughing about something.
Her cheeks had burned in shame and her nose had bled for so long that Hermione
had spent the entire length of her Transfiguration lesson hiding in the third
floor bathrooms trying to stem the flow of blood and trying to wash the blood
from her shirt. Professor McGonagall had been appalled and angry with her when
Hermione had slipped into her office at the end of the hour to apologise and
ask after any homework she had, before being alarmed when she'd looked up to
the sight of Hermione covered in her own blood, her school shirt stained in
several places and her skin pale thanks to the blood loss. She'd been escorted
to the nurse for a blood replenishment potion whilst being interrogated over
what had happened to her.
Hermione had bitten her lip on mentioning that it had been Rowle she'd collided
with to cause the bleed. Snape's words played in her mind about the
consequences of being a snitch. Instead she'd simply said she'd been
accidentally shoved in the hallway and had bumped her nose against something
solid when she'd tripped. McGonagall hadn't looked very much like she believed
her, but Hermione didn't elaborate. Other than being given a potion to make her
feel better and being told what her homework was for the class, Hermione had
been sent on her way once more.
She was jumpy in the halls between her classes and the fact that no one wanted
to be her friend or liked her ate away at her every day. Though no one except
Professor Snape, Professor Dumbledore, Madam Pince, Thorfinn Rowle and the
unnamed Hufflepuff girl knew about her tattling, Hermione seemed to be
something of a social pariah. None of the other girls in her dormitory seemed
interested in being her friend. Marcy Stewart and the red haired Faye Dunbar
had become fast friends with each other, while Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil
had formed a budding friendship based entirely on a love of fashion.
Hermione - with her love of books, her year worth of study ahead of her peers,
her maturity and her know-it-all habit of being a teacher's pet obsessed with
her homework - was left friendless and she often found herself alone in the
castle. She sat next to other people in class, finding a few of the Ravenclaw
students interesting and knowledgeable but none of them seemed very interested
in befriending her outside of occasionally pairing up in lessons.
Most of them were offended that she – a Gryffindor – knew more about their
topics of study in class than they did. Hermione wanted to cry at the
unfairness of it all. It wasn't her fault she'd been born in the middle of
September. It wasn't her fault she'd turned twelve while many of them were
still just eleven. It wasn't her fault she'd been taken to Diagon Alley on her
eleventh birthday for her books and her wand and her uniforms, resulting in her
having almost an entire year to read all of her books many times over,
practicing spells, memorising facts and otherwise trying to immerse herself in
the magical world she'd been told she belonged to. It wasn't her fault she was
trying so hard to fit into this magical world when she'd never fit well in the
muggle world she'd left behind.
The muggle kids hadn't liked her because she was clever and she was magical.
They'd called her a freak and told her she was abnormal. They'd made fun of her
big front teeth and her wild curls. They'd been frightened of the things that
happened when she got upset – moving things without touching them, setting
things on fire by accident when she was angry, making flowers bloom when she
was extremely happy. The muggles had picked on her and learned to avoid her.
Hermione had been so sure that when she came to Hogwarts, she would find
friends. Other people would be able to do magic too. They wouldn't shy away
from her for being able to move things with her mind.
But they did. No one talked to her unless they needed help with something in
class. The teachers all praised her, but their praise felt hollow when Hermione
looked around the room and saw no one else could do what she could do. She felt
even worse when one or two of the teachers – like Professor Flitwick – looks
mildly alarmed when she could do things much more advanced than the rest of her
year-group. Professor McGonagall had suggested yesterday that maybe she would
like to involve herself in independent study at a more advanced level and had
begun giving her coursework for second and third year level topics, seeing that
Hermione was so far beyond her peers that she often found herself unchallenged
and a bit bored in her classes.
The idea meant she spent even more time by herself. She sank herself into the
study she'd been given simply because it meant she didn't have to sit in the
common room or the Great Hall awkwardly looking around with no one to talk to.
She'd seen some of the boys in her year – like Ron Weasley – making fun of her
when she'd answered questions so enthusiastically in class. He stuck his top
teeth out over his bottom lip, rumpled his hair and jumped around like a
monkey, waving one hand in the air and making unflattering noises of
excitement.
Hermione had felt even worse when, upon seeing him do so, she'd been torn
between wanting to cry and wanting to hurt him. Something that had expressed
itself by making all of the taps in the greenhouse during Herbology that
morning, explode. The taps had all burst off their pipes and water had sprayed
everywhere. To make matters worse, the resulting shower of water had drenched
the class, drenched the seedpods they'd been potting – causing tangle-vines to
grow wildly, jumping from their trays and their pods, reaching and stretching
for more water and almost killing several students when the silly vines had
decided humans made excellent climbing walls for them to better get more water
and more sunshine.
No one had blamed her, of course. No one had known. In the resulting chaos the
fact that it had been Hermione's accidental magic that caused the pipes to
burst was overlooked. But Hermione had known. She'd felt horrible for ruining
the class, endangering her peers and destroying school property. All of that,
combined with the stress of not knowing when – or even if – Rowle would mount
some kind of revenge attack on Hermione pushed her towards the end of her rope
and she found herself sitting alone in a secluded alcove after dinner, her nose
in a book.
She wasn't having much luck at actually reading it given the poor lighting and
the fact that tears kept welling in her eyes and trickling down her cheeks.
Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to stem the tears and trying to
pull herself together. She was better than this. She refused to let one stupid
Slytherin boy, some indifferent or nasty teacher and one insignificant, dull-
minded little ginger kid rob her of her dignity. She wasn't going to let the
fact that as usual, no one her age appreciated her brilliance, rob her of her
happiness. And she wasn't about to let the world think she was beaten just
because she'd had a bit of a bad month.
Pinching her nose hard enough she was in danger of making it bleed all over
again Hermione snapped her book closed with her free hand and made to stand.
Just as she did, the sound of shuffling footsteps, a huff of breath and a wet
sort of lip-smacking sound filled her ears. Hermione blinked her teary eyes
open slowly, searching the deserted corridor for the source of the sound.
"Oh, for goodness sake," she hissed to herself when she spotted what appeared
to be none other than the Slytherin boy she had been afraid of all week. Well,
at least she spotted some of him.
His bare backside, if her eyes were to be believed. Hermione shook her head in
horror at the sight before her when, across the corridor in the alcove one down
from her own, Thorfinn Rowle could be seen, his trousers once again around his
ankles as he engaged in lewd acts. Hermione narrowed her eyes when he twisted
slightly, some little witch pressed against the wall in his hold. Hermione
could see the girl's legs wrapped around his waist and she rolled her eyes at
the way the other witch dragged her hands through Thorfinn's long blonde hair.
She moaned breathily at the way the boy was rutting her and Hermione's lip
curled in disgust when the girl's face came into view as she tipped her head
back while Rowle kissed her neck. Whoever she was, she most certainly wasn't
the same Hufflepuff girl Rowle had been inappropriate with in the library last
week. This one had chin-length auburn curls and freckles dusting her nose. She
was also rather loud.
"Disgusting," Hermione muttered to herself, knowing that she couldn't very well
get up and walk away without being caught or spotted by the couple. The last
thing she needed was to be caught by Rowle – again – when he was mid sexual
act.
The pervert would likely wink at her, threaten her to keep her mouth shut and
go right on doing what he was doing. It occurred to Hermione that she could
report him to Dumbledore and have the boy expelled for being an irredeemable
scoundrel, but even as she had the idea, the image of Professor Snape's
sneering visage flashed behind her eyes and Hermione shook her head. Biting her
lip, Hermione tried desperately to look away. To cover her ears so she wouldn't
have to listen to them going at it – this girl was entirely too loud for
anyone's good. Something Rowle seemed to agree with, silencing her with his
lips and driving into her.
Hermione hated the fact that as horrified as she was, her curiosity nipped at
her subconscious. She'd read about sex before, but other than spotting Rowle
mid-fellatio last week, she'd never seen anything more sexual than people
snogging and once, a man pinching a woman's bum on the Tube in London. Besides,
if they were stupid enough to have sex in a public place, they had to realise
that they might be spied on. Peering through the darkness from her own alcove –
having moved back further in it so no one would see her – Hermione found
herself watching the animalistic display.
It looked uncomfortable and kind of painful, if the girl's furrowed brow was
anything to go by. Hermione shook her head slowly from side to side, her gaze
drawn to the bare expanse of flesh Rowle had on display. The muscles of his
powerful thighs and his backside contracted and released rhythmically as he
thrust powerfully into the witch he'd pinned to the wall.
"Harder, Thor," the little witch moaned when she broke away from his lips.
Hermione felt her top lip curl into an even more disgusted expression at the
wanton words.
People called him Thor?
The idea made her feel squicky inside. It was a nickname, obviously, but the
idea of referring to the already Norse looking boy by the name of a Norse god
rather unsettled her. Surely such a boy didn't deserve the nickname that could
be construed as so powerful a being as a god? Not to mention the girl was
obviously a tart, shagging in a corridor and moaning like a well-paid trollop!
Hermione continued to shake her head, her own brow furrowing in concern over
the fate of the human race if such specimens were at an age where they could
potentially begin contributing to the gene pool.
"Like that, do you?" Rowle's low voice growled huskily, amusement and smugness
thick in his tone.
When the girl moaned again, Hermione decided that the last thing she felt like
doing – no matter her curiosity – was to continue sitting there watching the
Viking's arse muscles flex while the twisted couple dirty-talked. Standing,
Hermione clutched her book to her chest and left the alcove she'd been hiding
in. Her own bitter mood coupled with her disdain for the pair and before she
could think better of it, Hermione found herself speaking disparaging words.
"You should know he was shagging a different trollop last week," Hermione said
loudly as she passed the alcove where the couple was. "If I were you, I'd make
certain you're using extremely strong charms against STDs."
The girl squealed in horror at being caught and Hermione heard Rowle cursing
colourfully.
"Who was that?" the witch asked. "Let me down! Someone saw us, Thor! And what's
she talking about? You were shagging someone else last week?"
Hermione snorted to herself as she continued on up the corridor.
"Oi! Don't hit me, witch," Thorfinn growled. "Who the fuck said that? Where is
she? YOU!"
Hermione looked over her shoulder to see Rowle sticking his head out of the
alcove and looking in her direction.
"The little fucking lion cub," he snarled. "What the fuck is with you and
constantly interrupting me while I shag?"
"What's with you shagging in places I happen to be?" Hermione retorted coldly,
turning and walking backwards as she continued trying to leave the area whilst
arguing with the boy – not trusting him not to hex her from behind. "I was
minding my own business – again – and you just happened to pick the same part
of the castle to live out your perversions – again. Why can't you use an
abandoned classroom or a broom cupboard like everyone else, Rowle?"
Hermione watched the way the witch he'd been shagging fled the alcove, running
in the other direction away from where Hermione was standing and disappearing
around the corner.
"Oh and thank you for that," Rowle snarled, looking in the direction the witch
went as he stormed out of the alcove still fastening his trousers and buckling
her belt once more. "Come here, you little brat!"
Hermione ran for it. Spinning around, she sprinted down the corridor but
Rowle's legs were much longer than hers and he caught her easily. One of his
huge hands closed around her upper arm and jerked her to a stop, pulling her
around to glare up at him.
"Let me go or I'll hex you, you big moron!" Hermione hissed, her hair beginning
to crackle and sparkle with magic as her annoyance grew.
She'd been having a bad month, a wretched week and a positively terrible day so
she was in no mood to be jerked around or hurt by an irate Slytherin boy. Even
if he was bigger and meaner than her. Swinging the book she carried with both
hands, Hermione clobbered the big idiot with it right in the middle of his
chest. She hit him as hard as she could and she felt rather satisfied when he
grunted in surprise.
"Oi! Knock it off, you crazy bint!" he complained, snatching the book from her
hands easily enough and flinging it away onto one of the benches in the
corridor. Hermione growled at him like a rabid dog in her fury when he used his
free hand to grip her other arm. Liked he'd done when she collided with him the
other day, he picked her up from the floor, his hands tight around her upper
arms until her feet dangled above the ground.
"Put me down this instant, Thorfinn Rowle!" Hermione snarled. "Just because
you're bigger than me doesn't mean you can pick me up like a rag-doll! Put me
down!"
"Feisty little thing, aren't you?" he asked, his frown dissolving as he stared
into her angry face while she writhed in his hold.
"Get off me this instant!" Hermione insisted, ignoring his words
"You're a cock-blocking little piece of work, Granger," Rowle said, giving her
a gentle shake that still managed to make her teeth rattle.
"You're a perverted Neanderthal," Hermione spat in return, her magic flaring
dangerously and nearly slipping free of her control in her fury.
"Big words for a little kid," he retorted. "Stop squirming, little lioness and
I'll put you down."
"Don't you dare blackmail me!" Hermione snapped.
"You blackmailed me," he said. "Said to let go or you'd hex me."
"That's a threat, not blackmail," Hermione informed him coldly. "One I'm only
too willing to carry out if you don't put me down this instant."
"Certainly a reckless little lion cub, aren't you?" he laughed.
Hermione kicked him.
"Oi!" he shook her again in annoyance.
"PUT ME DOWN!" Hermione shouted, entirely losing her temper and losing control
of her magic in the process. Rowle dropped her when a Stinging Hex struck him
and Hermione winced as she tried to keep her feet under her, twisting her ankle
in the process.
"Bloody hell, witch!" he complained, rubbing at his chest where the hex had hit
him.
"Serves you right, you big brute," Hermione snapped as she limped over to
collect her book from where he'd thrown it and tried to make her escape.
Her ankle throbbed dully and Rowle blocked her path before she could be on her
way.
"Off to tattle on me again?" he demanded, raising his eyebrows.
"If I were, it would be no more than you deserve," Hermione said coldly,
glaring up in his blue eyes. "You're disgusting. No one wants to witness you
shagging every girl in the school, you know?"
"Stop interrupting me when I do it then," Rowle retorted.
"Interrupting?" Hermione scoffed at the older boy, "You're the one who does it
in public. If you don't want to get caught, do it somewhere private."
"Why you?" he sighed, running one of his hands through his long golden hair and
suddenly looking rather frustrated. "Why, of all the people who could catch me,
does it keep being you?"
"Probably because you have bad habit of doing it where I happen to be?"
Hermione suggested. "I was in this corridor first, reading. You're the idiot
who didn't check the corridor was deserted before dropping your trousers
again."
"Enjoy the view, did you?" he smirked unkindly.
"I vomited in my mouth," Hermione replied meanly. "You're disgusting and
probably diseased, given the way you apparently get around."
Rowle's eyes narrowed for a moment before he tipped his head to one side, his
expression smoothing out as he regarded her for a long moment in silence.
"If you weren't such a pain in my arse," he said. "You'd be kind of funny,
kid."
"Do you delude yourself into believing that I care about your opinion of me?"
Hermione retorted coldly, attempting to side-step him again.
Rowle suddenly snorted in amusement, looking like he couldn't entirely believe
his ears.
"You're the feistiest girl I've ever met!" He shook his head as he chuckled.
"Ah, now I understand how you keep talking your way into these girl's
knickers," Hermione sneered. "You clearly go for the door-mats who can't string
a coherent sentence together."
"Bloody hell, witch," he said, his eyebrows rising as he looked wickedly
amused. "How old are you?"
"How is that any concern of yours?" Hermione sniffed. "Get out of my way Rowle,
or I might forget the little pep-talk your Head of House gave me on your behalf
and tell on you for public indecency again."
"First year, right? Can't be more than twelve at the most," he said
speculatively as though he weren't listening to her. He continued to step into
her path when she tried to pass him. "Sharp-tongued little thing too, with no
regard for your own life if you back-talk everyone the way you back-talk me."
"Oh, did you expect me to be scared just because you're the same size and of
equal intelligence to a large boulder?" Hermione raised her eyebrows at him
before raking him with a disgusted gaze. Well, mostly disgusted. He was too
handsome for anyone to be truly disgusted by the sight of him.
"Blimey, you're going to be a fire-cracker when you grow up, Kitten," he
murmured, eyeing her in return, though he looked speculative and perhaps a
little appreciative rather than scathing.
"Are you going to continue preventing me from returning to my dormitory,
Rowle?" Hermione demanded, losing her temper and hitting him with her book when
he stepped in front of her and blocked her for the twelfth consecutive time.
"Are you going to run off and report me for shagging in the corridors?" he
asked in return, not looking the faintest bit phased by being hit.
"Why bother?" Hermione said bitterly. "The teachers are too scared of an
inquisition into the disciplinary actions the school takes against sexual
deviants after that girl got pregnant last year. They'll just cover up what you
were reported for and tell people like me to keep their mouths shut."
"Did you just call me a sexual deviant, little lioness?"
"Would you stop calling me things like that?" Hermione demanded, stamping her
foot in annoyance. "It's very annoying and rather clichéd. I do happen to have
a name, you know? And yes, I did call you a sexual deviant. You're a lascivious
cad who can't keep it in his trousers."
"Whom you're not going to report," he smirked wickedly at her.
"Let me past or I will," Hermione threatened coolly in reply, growing more and
more annoyed with him by the second.
"I don't think you will, kid. And I still owe you pay-back," he said, crossing
his arms over his chest as he stared down at her. "You nearly got me expelled,
you know?"
"Serves you right for being disgusting."
"You're going to regret it, you know?" he went on, his tone conversational as
though he was discussing something unimportant, like the weather, rather than
her potential demise.
"What are you going to do?" Hermione asked, rolling her eyes. "Hex me in the
hallways? I doubt it - you'll get in more trouble. Make fun of me for the way I
look? You'll hardly be the first person to do so. Ruin my reputation with
scandalous slurs of being a trollop? Not exactly possible given than I'm
twelve."
Hermione shrugged at him defiantly, glaring up into his handsome face and
hating the way she noted all the little things about him. The way his hair fell
into his eyes. The way his blue eyes glittered with a dangerous sparkle. The
way he really did look rather like the Norse god his nickname dubbed him.
She blinked when he stooped slightly, bending until he was on level with her.
He lifted one hand and brushed his fingers along her jaw before cupping the
back of her neck, his fingers twisting into her hair and forcing her to hold
his gaze. She squirmed a bit but the grip he had on the back of her neck meant
she couldn't really wriggle free of his hold. She opened her mouth, intent of
telling him not to touch her and to get out of her way again, but he cut her
off before she could say a word.
"You're not thinking big enough, Baby-girl," he murmured to her, his gaze
boring into hers, those blue eyes of his full of unspoken promises of just what
he meant to do to her in revenge. "Not nearly big enough."
He smiled then, a mean little smile that made her think of a snake preparing to
strike. Flexing his fingers once against the back of her neck, he gave a little
squeeze before releasing her and straightening once more. Hermione stared up at
him suspiciously, but he seemed to have decided he'd spent enough of his
evening on annoying first years. Stepping around her, Thorfinn Rowle strolled
off down the corridor that lead towards the lower floors.
Hermione felt a chill slide down her spine when he began to whistle a jaunty
tune as he went.
***** Chapter 4 *****
                                 CHAPTER FOUR
===============================================================================
Thorfinn Rowle watched the curly-haired little Gryffindor girl across the Great
Hall where she sat all alone, her nose buried in a book as she picked at her
food. He'd been watching her daily since the incident in the library and
keeping an even closer eye on her since their second encounter in the hallway
when the little witch had caught him shagging Becky Selwyn. It was clear to him
that Hermione Granger was a bit of a social pariah, even in her own house, for
her studious nature and her utter swottiness. Something he'd experienced first-
hand. He'd been contemplating how best to exact his revenge on the little
tattle-tale for ratting him out mid blowjob weeks ago.
If he was being honest, watching the way she twitched and flinched every time
she spotted him watching her or every time she had to pass him in the corridors
was almost revenge enough. Almost. She was positively terrified of what he
planned to do to her and the bravado she'd showed in the corridor after
catching him with Selwyn seemed to have dried up again. Clearly his reputation,
either as a short-tempered arsehole or simply as a Slytherin, proceeded him and
the little cub was terrified of what he might do to her.
As well she should be.
The plans he had forming in his mind were beyond reprehensible but that was
half the fun, wasn't it? The things he planned to do to that little witch would
ruin her life. She'd almost cost him everything. His family. His future. His
inheritance. His career. Even his merlin-cursed education. Her little act of
tattling on him had almost ripped all of that away from him and he wasn't going
to take that lying down. No, Thorfinn had a plan in mind that would cost her
everything she had almost cost him. She was going to rue the day she drew his
ire. Hermione Granger would one day lament ever having laid eyes on Thorfinn
Rowle.
Not that he was actually all that pissed off at her for catching him and
telling on him, when he thought about it. Sure, she'd ratted on him but he'd
still come before being interrupted by Pince. He'd still ticked that off his
Hogwarts Rite of Passage task-list. And anyway, it gave him an excuse not to
have that awkward dismissive conversation with the Hufflepuff tart he'd talked
into blowing him when he was done with her and no longer wanted to look at her
sideways. Saved him the easy let-down that would undoubtedly have turned cold-
fury shut-down when the pushy little swot wouldn't take no for an answer.
That said, he couldn't let the little lion cub think she'd got off scott-free
for being a tattle-tale. That wouldn't do. If she wanted to survive this place
the girl was going to have to stop being such a swot, get her nose out of those
books, stop showing off in class - the Malfoy kid never shut up about her know-
it-all ways in the classroom - and she was going to have to learn to keep shit
to herself. Thorfinn wasn't above teaching the little brat. Even if she had
kept quiet about Selwyn. She would learn to keep her mouth shut and she would
learn that all of her actions had consequences. Unpleasant consequences.
The question was, how exactly would he do it?
He reckoned she wasn't likely to actually be intimidated by him if push came to
shove. The little brat was rumoured to have run off after that troll that had
broken into the school, intent on taking it on all by herself. If not for the
Boy Who Lived and his ginger side-kick the swot would likely be dead. But if
she had the stones to willingly seek out a fully grown Mountain Troll and try
to take it on by herself even though she was just an ickle first year, he
wasn't sure she'd be so intimidated by him. She might looked petrified of what
he could do to her but she would likely turn on him all claws and fangs if she
lost her temper.
Now that would be a sight to see. It had been sight enough when she'd snapped
and snarled at him the other night in the corridor, clobbering him with that
heavy tome she'd been reading and sneering at him as though he weren't twice
her size and capable of literally snapping her in half in he wanted to. She'd
packed quite the magical punch too when she'd hit him with that Stinging Hex,
her magic lashing out spitefully in her fury with him.
No, the little swot might sometimes look terrified of what he might do to her
but she was reckless and daring and unafraid of the danger he presented. Her
fear was all in the terror of the unknown – the spine tingling chill of not
knowing what was in the dark; the sick thrill of waiting for the axe to fall,
waiting for the blow to come. Thorfinn knew that fear well enough. The tactic
of inspiring it was a favourite punishment of his father's when Thorfinn had
been a boy.
"How's the list going?" his best friend Antonin Dolohov muttered to him,
dropping down to sit beside him at the Slytherin table. "Got your tattoo yet?"
"Close," Thorfinn smirked, taking his eyes off the curly haired little witch
who'd almost gotten him expelled from Hogwarts. "Only about ten things left to
go."
"Bastard," Dolohov grumbled. "Pince is like a fucking hawk in that library
thanks to you getting caught. Nearly took my head off for even being in the
same row as a girl last night."
"Having trouble hitting your goals there, Dolohov?" Thorfinn needled his
friend, smirking at him in amusement. They'd begun their rivalry to complete
the list in first year when the graduating seventh years who'd completed their
lists had passed down the legacy to the next generation of students.
"How the fuck did you get caught anyway?" Antonin wanted to know, frowning.
"You never get caught breaking the rules."
"An ickle firstie walked up mid-way through," Thorfinn shrugged. "She ratted on
me."
"That lion cub you keep glaring at whenever you pass her in the halls? I
wondered what the fuck you were doing perving on the kid."
"That's the one," Thorfinn nodded, ignoring the mention of perving that was
clearly meant to get a rise out of him. "The little bitch nearly got me
expelled. Dumbledore wanted to kick me to the curb but Snape and Headmaster
Black's portrait talked him out of it."
"Tattling little bitch," Dolohov muttered darkly, levelling a glare in the
direction of the little Gryffindor where she was resolutely ignoring her peers
while she read her book and picked at her food. "I sweet talked Hastings into
blowing me in the library last night but before I could even snog the bitch,
Pince was on us like a bloodhound, loitering and muttering about getting our
books and getting out of her library."
"She's still furious because Snape talked the rest of them out of expelling
me," Thorfinn laughed. "Tried to ban me from the library too, but Snape argued
that I'd need access for my studies."
He chose not to mention what else Snape had said he planned to do to the woman
to let him back in the library. Thorfinn had been avoiding it whenever he
could, only sneaking in to complete his homework when he couldn't bully a
younger student into getting him the books he needed or couldn't sweet-talk one
of the Slytherin girls into doing his homework for him.
"Good man, Snape," Dolohov commented.
"Should've seen his face when I showed him my list. Did that thing where his
lips twitch when he wants to smile, but isn't allowed to encourage us,"
Thorfinn grinned.
"He earned his own tattoo before he graduated, even looking like he does. I
reckon he'll be disappointed in anyone who fails," Antonin laughed. "What do
you have planned for revenge on the firstie?"
"She's the one who went after that bloody troll at Halloween," Thorfinn
grumbled, his attention returning to the little witch. "I was just going to
scare the little brat into minding her own business, but I don't reckon she'll
scare so easy. She caught me again a week later nailing Becky Selwyn in a
corridor, interrupted us, suggested I probably had STDs, told Becky she was a
trollop and then argued with me when I went after her. Hit me with a book, the
little bitch."
"Letting her stew seems effective," Dolohov commented, eyeing the messy-haired
Gryffindor girl where she was still reading across the hall. She glanced up
every now and then as though sensing their gazes but she refused to look
towards the Slytherin table. Thorfinn smirked to himself. He'd noticed after
what he'd done when he told her she wasn't thinking big enough that she didn't
much like making eye contact with him.
"It does, but not for long… I've been thinking it might be high time I started
to use some of my inheritance to acquire some property actually," Thorfinn
smirked cruelly and Dolohov's returning smile was beyond wicked.
"That's cold, mate. Mudblood, isn't she?" Antonin asked.
"Yeah," Thorfinn smirked, having done his homework on the little witch via less
than savoury means. "Her filthy muggle parents are teeth healers. Got their own
practice and everything."
Antonin's laugh was utterly gleeful and a number of their fellow Slytherins
looked around in alarm at the sound, knowing well from their interactions in
the common room that someone was in for a terribly bad time whenever Dolohov
unleashed a laugh like that.
"Hitting the task for shagging in a teacher's office tonight," Thorfinn told
his friend, changing the subject before anyone else could catch on. "Sweet-
talked Calliope Perkins into it."
"You bastard," Dolohov growled. "I tried to talk her into letting me eat her
during class and she turned me down."
"Try again next week, she muttered something about a schedule and not wanting
to shag more than one different bloke a week or something," Thorfinn smirked at
him.
"Whose office are you going to use?" Antonin grumbled, looking annoyed.
"Burbage's," Thorfinn chuckled. "The Muggle Studies bint. She's hardly ever in
there because no one takes her stupid class. It'll be nice and empty. Reckon
I'll be expelled if I get caught mid-coitus again so soon. I'm still in
detention thanks to the cub too."
"Want me to rough her up some in punishment while you're scrubbing cauldrons?"
Antonin offered.
"Maybe. Not too much though. You get too rough with the little ones and that
one will report you and have you out on your arse before you can say Quidditch.
Dumbledore's watching me when it comes to that one too. He'll bust us both if
you go after her too hard."
"Did they take you off the team? You've still been training?" he asked, nodding
his understanding and shooting a glare towards the teacher's table.
"Tried to. Snape wouldn't allow it. Reckoned that it wouldn't be fair to remove
me for something not Quidditch related and claimed that if they were willing to
break the rules and let Potter play even though he's a firstie, it would be
preferential treatment to Gryffindor, letting them break rules but not us."
"He does love to rub it in that the other houses get preferential treatment
over us. Dumbledore can't throw you off the team then?"
"Don't reckon Snape will protect me if I'm caught again though," Thorfinn
sighed. "So I might just have to make sure little lion cubs like that one don't
catch me or make sure they hold their tongues. She's kept quiet after I shagged
Selwyn, but you never know. Sounds like Snape put the fear of Merlin in her and
she lost some respect for old Dumbledore when he gave her a pep-talk about
avoiding investigation from the Board of Governors after that Hufflepuff chit
got herself knocked up last year."
"I'll see what I can teach her about keeping quiet then, shall I?" Dolohov
chuckled and Thorfinn smirked in return, recognising the blood-thirsty look on
his best friend's face and knowing that no amount of trying to talk him out of
it would keep him from roughing up the girl.
                               ~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~
She'd been on tenterhooks about the Slytherin's revenge for over a month by the
time any of them even hinted at making her pay for tattling on Rowle. He'd been
given three months' worth of detention and the girl with him copped the same.
Hermione had been beside herself, worried about what they might do to her. She
was a bit disappointed when it all came down to being shoved over and having
her bag stolen by a dark haired Slytherin boy she'd often seen Rowle with.
"Well if it isn't the squealing little pig of a Gryffindor," the boy taunted
her when she was trying to get to the library to work on her Herbology essay
for Professor Sprout after dinner on Wednesday evening.
She hadn't been paying attention to her surroundings as she walked, too busy
muttering to herself about the books she would need and about Harry and Ron
being so slack with their own homework. As such, she hadn't seen the bigger boy
until it was too late. She crashed right into him in the corridor and he
snatched her bag from her, letting her fall to the floor in an ungraceful heap.
Narrowing her eyes on the boy, Hermione pushed herself back to her feet,
ignoring the sting in her palms where she'd scraped them on the stone floor of
the corridor.
"Give me back my things, Dolohov," Hermione growled fiercely, drawing her wand
and aiming it at the older boy while he began to rifle through her bag, dumping
things out and generally making a nuisance of himself. Hermione loathed people
like him. He was clearly delusional, operating under the impression that she
would be intimidated by him just because he was bigger than her.
"Or you'll what, little piggy?" he sneered, tipping all her books out of her
bag.
Hermione watched with dismay as her inkwells followed, tumbling to the floor
where they smashed and splattered ink everywhere. Her quills floated out
afterwards and she winced when he stomped on one of them, snapping it in two.
When he located the little bag she kept on-hand for her feminine products,
Hermione forgot to care that he was bigger than her or that it was against
school rules to duel in the corridors. She fired a Stinging Hex at him
viciously and felt a little prickle of satisfaction when he yelped and dropped
her bag before he could tip out her tampons all over the inky mess already upon
the floor.
"You little bitch!" he snarled, glaring at the stinging red mark across the top
of his right forearm.
"Go away, Dolohov," Hermione snapped. "And tell your stupid friend that if he
has a problem with me, he should be a man and confront me himself, not hide
behind his inept bum-buddy. Run along now and lick your wounds. You're not
welcome here."
Dolohov narrowed his eyes on her and drew his wand in return, looking like he
was about to hex her for her cheek.
Boisterous laughter met her ears before Dolohov could curse her and Hermione
twitched at the sound. She knew it. She'd been on edge for weeks around Rowle.
She'd picked up the ability to recognise the sound of his laughter without
having to look at him. Some days she was relatively sure she'd be able to pick
him out by the sound of his voice or even the scent of his cologne.
"Little kitten's got some claws," he needled, still sounding amused rather than
offended. "Put your wand away Toshka, you can't curse a firstie for defending
herself."
"She called me an inept bum-buddy," Dolohov argued with his friend and Hermione
rolled her eyes.
"You deserved it. You just ruined all my books, smashed my inkwells and broke
my quill. You better be grateful I didn't call you a bumbling baboon with an
overbite or a knuckle-dragging Neanderthal," Hermione muttered, stooping to
pick up her destroyed things. She flicked her wand, muttering cleaning charms
to remove as much of the ink as she could from her books and her quills. She
repaired the shattered glass of the inkwells too, but nothing could return the
ink to the wells.
Rowle positively roared with laughter, clearly catching her words and noting
the way she turned her attention to cleaning up the mess, not paying Dolohov
any more mind even though he could likely hex her and make her life very
uncomfortable. She supposed it was a risky move after insulting him and hexing
him when he'd already been intent on making her life difficult.
"You need a fucking lesson in how to talk to your superiors, Mudblood," Dolohov
snarled at her and Hermione glanced up at him, frowning over the term he'd
used, not at all recognising it.
"When I find someone I consider superior, Dolohov, I'll be sure to remember
that," Hermione fired back, making sure not to let her confusion over the term
show.
Rowle was still laughing as she continued, straightening slowly to her full
height and glaring up at both older boys unflinchingly.
"You're not afraid of us, are you, little lion cub?" he asked, eyeing her as
though she were a puzzle he was trying to solve.
"Should I be?" Hermione challenged, tipping her head back to hold the gaze of
the strapping blonde boy.
He looked very much like she imagined a Viking warrior might. Hulking muscular
build, long blonde hair that gleamed in the torchlight, bright blue eyes that
sparkled with mischief and danger. He was easily half a foot taller than
Dolohov and had more than two feet worth of height on Hermione herself thanks
to her young age and short stature.
"Yes," he replied frankly.
"Of you? Or your..." she pursed her lips and swept a bold gaze over Dolohov.
"Little friend?"
Rowle narrowed his eyes slightly for her tone but Hermione refused to back
down. It had never been in her nature to back down from bullies who thought
they could push her around and she wasn't about to start now.
"Both," he informed her.
"Yes, assaulted by a pair of grown wizards in a school corridor who can't do
more than ruffle my feathers by stealing my bag and tipping my things out. How
terrifying," Hermione deadpanned. "Honestly, I know first years who do more
intimidating things to me than you two. If this is about that mess in the
library last month, you've waited entirely too long to seek revenge and it's
not a very effective way to discourage me from tattling on you by doing things
that are so utterly childish. I feel like I should tattle all over again to
make you realise you're both adults, not petulant little boys. I mean really,
I'd expect this type of behaviour from the likes of Malfoy and his goons, but
you two? This is how you put the fear of Merlin into a girl? Really?"
"Let me curse her," Dolohov practically begged and Hermione slanted a glare at
him. "Let me curse the uppity little mudblood bitch, Rowle."
"You want to go to prison for murdering her?" Thorfinn asked, raising one
eyebrow. "If you throw that curse of yours at her, she'll die and you'll land
in Azkaban over an ickle firstie telling on me for getting blown in the
library."
Dolohov looked like he thought it would be worth it just to pay her back for
her sassiness.
"Oooh, what kind of curse is it? Something illegal?" Hermione asked pretending
to be excited before letting her voice and her face go lax. "How predictable."
"Rowle," Dolohov growled, hatred glittering in his eyes. "Shut her up, before I
do."
"Walk away, you bloody git," Thorfinn muttered to his friend, nudging him with
his shoulder and attempting to shove him away down the corridor.
Dolohov resisted, lifting his wand and aiming it at her. Hermione felt just a
little bit of concern when the big blonde idiot spun on his friend and shoved
both his hands hard enough against the middle of Dolohov's chest that the other
boy went flying backwards. Literally. He stumbled several steps, almost lost
his balance, cursed and snarled profanity before spinning on his heel and
turning away. Hermione watched him stomp off down the corridor, his wand still
clenched in his fist.
"You need to be careful who you go making enemies out of, little lioness,"
Thorfinn propped one enormous shoulder against the wall and curled his inside
ankle around the outside one as he regarded her. "He's not likely to forget
that you humiliated him, even if it was just in front of me, or to forgive that
you didn't have the good sense to act scared, even if you didn't feel it. You
better watch it if you ever find yourself alone with him, Cub."
"Fortunately I make a point of never finding myself alone with dim-witted
drongo's like him," Hermione replied evenly. "Are you intending to ruffle my
feathers as well, Rowle?"
"Do I need to?" he asked, one golden eyebrow arching.
"It won't do you much good," Hermione shrugged. "It didn't last time, either."
"None of this would have happened if you hadn't tattled on me, you know?" he
retorted.
"Don't do disgusting things in places where you can get caught and I won't have
to report you," Hermione answered, refusing to back down from the idea that
she'd done the right thing.
"Nothing disgusting about a little BJ, Granger," Thorfinn smirked at her.
"You'll figure that out when you're older. If you're lucky."
"Maybe I will, maybe I won't. I know I won't be engaging in such an activity
somewhere like the library where just anyone could happen along and catch me,"
Hermione retorted.
Rowle snorted at her. "Half the fun is in the risk of getting caught, kid."
"You're twisted," said Hermione. "Now, thanks to your stupid side-kick, I need
a new quill and will have to fetch fresh inkpots to finish my homework. So,
thanks very much for all that."
"It's not like I upended your stuff," he protested, looking wickedly amused by
her attitude.
"He's your trained monkey, I don't doubt he did this on your orders. The
bastard better hope I don't ever catch him doing something disgusting and
illegal or I'll make sure he gets expelled."
"Feisty little thing, aren't you?" Thorfinn chuckled at her reply, shaking his
head slightly. "Just… don't be a tattle-tale, you hear? You'll get a lot worse
from others than just him if you tattle on people for breaking the rules all
the time. No one likes a rat, kid."
"Plenty of people like rats, they make interesting familiars," Hermione
retorted snidely.
"You're a real piece of work. No wonder so many people avoid you. How'd you get
those two gits to talk to you anyway? I know you didn't have any friends before
that business with the troll," he said meanly. Hermione bit her lip, looking at
her feet as she tried not to let the words affect her.
It didn't work very well and she felt tears filling her eyes at the mention of
how Harry and Ron had only decided to be friends with her when she'd lied to a
teacher instead of tattling on them. Turning on her heel, Hermione made to walk
away from him and she heard the older boy sigh heavily. When his large hand
closed over her small arm, Hermione shook it viciously, trying to dislodge him
from her person so she could cry without being seen. She didn't need anyone
thinking she was a wimp in addition to a swotty know-it-all and a snitch.
"Tell me something, little lion cub," Rowle said quietly, bending slightly
until his eyes were level with hers as he'd done after the Selwyn incident. His
fingers pressed insistently against her chin until she had no choice but to
lift her head and meet his gaze. "What were you thinking running off after that
troll?"
Hermione blinked at the older boy, startled by how alarmingly handsome he was
from up close when he wasn't threatening her; his were eyes a brilliant shade
of sapphire blue that seemed to sparkle in the firelight.
"I didn't run after it," Hermione admitted in a whisper. "I skipped the
Halloween feast because I was in a bathroom crying after Ron said I was a
nightmare, just for helping him in class and making him look stupid by being
able to do a spell when he couldn't. He said it was no wonder I didn't have any
friends. I was still in there when the troll got in and found its way to the
bathroom where I was crying."
"Why does everyone think you went looking for it?" Rowle asked, his brow
furrowed at her answer.
"Because it found me. Harry and Ron – having heard I was in the bathroom crying
because of what Ron said – came looking for me when I didn't return to the
common room like everyone else. They fought it while I crawled around on the
floor trying to keep from being clubbed to death. I lied to the teachers and
said that I went looking for it and they saved me to keep them from being in
trouble for seeking the troll out and to keep anyone from knowing what they'd
said to make me cry in the first place," Hermione whispered miserably. "They're
only friends with me because I lied to cover their bums. Because I broke the
rules."
Hermione pulled away from him as the tears overflowed from her eyes and
trickled down her cheeks. She ran down the corridor without looking back at the
blonde Slytherin boy.
***** Chapter 5 *****
                                 CHAPTER FIVE
===============================================================================
Thorfinn didn't speak to Hermione Granger again until after Christmas. The
little Gryffindor girl was practically the farthest thing from his mind, if he
was being honest. With his NEWTs on the way and the amount of homework the
teachers plied them with, Quidditch matches, Quidditch training and the number
of tasks he was still trying to tick of his Hogwarts bucket list, the last
thing he had time for was wasting brain power on some tiny, crazy-haired
Gryffindor mudblood. At least outside of the acquisitions he was making
privately that would later prove rather unfortunate for her, in any case.
The only time he gave the girl any thought at all in the lead up to Christmas
was when he had to elbow Dolohov in the ribs to keep him from glaring at the
girl, Toshka's grudge against her festering as she continued to do well in her
classes and continued to show disdain for his dark-haired Slytherin friend. He
had far more important things to think about. Currently, the thing he was
thinking about most was focusing on extremely boring facts about Quidditch
history in an attempt to keep from blowing his load inside the tight little
Ravenclaw witch he'd talked into shagging him as a means of relieving stress.
Something she'd needed more than him and a vulnerability he had preyed upon
when he'd caught her having a mental breakdown over the latest homework they'd
been given from Snape. She was biting his neck, clawing his back and gripping
his cock so tight with her hot, wet pussy that it was all he could do to hold
off until he got her there – he had a reputation to maintain, after all.
"Really?" a rather resigned voice sighed from somewhere behind him just as the
girl in his arms climaxed, her body clamping down on his and beginning to spasm
as she found her release.
Thorfinn followed the little bint over the edge, realising as he did so that he
hadn't even bothered to learn her name and ignoring the voice for the time
being.
"What is with you and public displays of indecency?" the same voice asked of
him, penetrating the orgasmic fog created as he blew his nut.
Thorfinn blinked stupidly for a moment.
"You say something?" he grunted at the witch he'd just hard-fucked against the
wall of the fifth floor corridor.
"No. Oh my god, what have I done?" the witch in his arms was muttering,
beginning to squirm against him to be let down.
"Over here, genius," that snarky voice called for his attention a third time
and Thorfinn looked over his shoulder to spot a curly-haired little lion cub
leaning her shoulder against the wall and looking comically disgusted and yet
somewhat amused by the sight before her.
"You again," he growled when he spotted her.
"It would be really nice if I'd been able to get through each term without
having to see you part-naked again, Rowle," Hermione Granger informed him, her
arms folded as she stared at him.
Her cheeks were pink with embarrassment at the state he was in, his arms still
hooked under the Ravenclaws bare thighs and his cock going soft inside the
squirming witch.
"Rowle? Oh god. Down. Let me down now, you Neanderthal!" the witch hissed,
beginning to writhe for release now and Thorfinn lowered the girl back to her
feet, pulling out of her even as she ducked down trying to grab hold of her
knickers where they were puddled on the floor at his feet.
"Don't forget the fucking Contraception charms," he called when the now-crimson
Ravenclaw snatched up her things and dashed off down the hall. "Oh, and you're
fucking welcome!"
The witch didn't look back and Thorfinn heard the little lioness snort as
though amused by his behaviour. Given that his cock was hanging out of his
trousers and his shirt was unbuttoned, he supposed he looked a sight.
"Enjoying the view, ickle firstie?" he asked, slanting at glance at the younger
girl.
"Try to be decent, would you?" she asked, clearly even more swottish than ever.
"Not going to run off and tattle on me this time?" he sneered, tucking himself
back inside trousers and fastening them as he turned toward the little witch.
"You'll be gone by the time I can alert a teacher," Granger shrugged her
shoulders at him. "Are you an exhibitionist? I've read about those."
"What kind of shit are you reading, kid?" he snorted, rather amused by her nosy
question and noting the way she dragged her eyes over the expanse of his chest
where his shirt hung open, revealing the muscled planes of his abs.
"My mother has peculiar taste in reading material and sometimes I run out of
books when I'm at home," the girl shrugged at him. "So, are you one?"
"Not that I know of," he shrugged in return, "Are you a voyeur?"
"I imagine anyone who has ever viewed pornographic material or accessed erotic
fiction would be considered a voyeur to some extent," she replied, her brow
wrinkling a little as though they were having a philosophical debate rather
than discussing porn.
"You're a weird kid, you know that, right?" he asked, sauntering toward the
little thing and noting that she didn't seem alarmed by his advance.
It looked as though sometime over the Christmas holidays, she'd gotten over her
preoccupation with the idea that he might hex her. Maybe she'd seen the number
of times he had to prevent Dolohov from hexing her and decided it would be in
her best interest to keep him on her side rather than turning them both against
her. Maybe she was innocent enough to believe he wasn't playing her for a fool.
"I'm not the one getting my jollies in the hallways," she retorted. "Must you
continue to engage in such behaviour where it might offend my eyesight? I'd
have rather preferred never to have seen any more of you naked than the glimpse
I got in the library at the start of the year."
"Perving on me, Granger?" Thorfinn smirked at the little witch.
"Dream on, Rowle," she replied.
"What are you doing up here interrupting me mid-fuck anyway, lion cub?"
"Trying to get to my common room so I can ditch my bag before dinner," she
said. "What are you doing up here, snake?"
"Shagging," he winked at her. "By the end of the day the teachers don't bother
coming up here unless they have to. Come here, would you?"
"What? Why?" she asked him, raising her eyebrows and looking alarmed as he
beckoned her toward him.
"Just do it, kid," he grumbled at her, buttoning his shirt slowly and fixing
things so he was properly attired – if rumpled – once more.
"You're not going to hug me, are you?" she asked cautiously as she approached.
"You're covered in essence of Ravenclaw and I don't want anyone to think I'm
responsible for that goofy look on your face right now."
"You're real mouthy sometimes, do you know that?" Thorfinn narrowed his eyes on
the curly-haired little swot before dropping down to sit on one of the benches
along the corridor and tugging on her arm until she toppled into his lap. She
squeaked in surprise to find herself there, clearly awkward and not trusting
him as far as she could throw him.
A wise move on her part.
"Hey!" she protested, squirming immediately when he looped his arm around her
middle and propped his chin on top of her bushy-haired head.
He arranged her easily, noticing as he lifted her to shift her slightly that
she weighed next to nothing. She was too young and too small to feel any
heavier than a blanket. Warm too, he noticed, settling her better onto his lap
and refusing to let her go despite her protests.
"Try not to wriggle, kid," he warned her. "Or you'll trick the other head into
believing round two is a viable option. Just hold still."
"Thorfinn Rowle, you let go of me this instant!" the fussy little thing
demanded, ceasing her squirming but continuing to try and pry his arm from
around her waist. He found himself alarmed by the way he kind of liked the
sound of his full name on her tongue.
Shit, that wasn't right. He was meant to be tricking the little swot into
befriending him so he could better manipulate her in future. He was not
supposed to be intrigued by the way she said his name.
"Hush up and hold still would you, Granger?" he grumbled. "Just sit there and
don't wriggle while I hold you for a few minutes."
"No, let go of me this instant. You're covering me in essence of Ravenclaw.
Honestly, it smells like a perfume shop threw up all over you. It's
disgusting," Granger protested and Thorfinn snorted at her words.
"Is a bit strong, eh?" he chuckled, all the more amused that she was
complaining about the other witch's scent but not his. "No wonder she was
having a nervous breakdown when I ran into her. Probably can't think past the
noxious fumes of... what is that? Vanilla?"
"Vanilla and orchids, I think," Granger replied dryly, drawing a breath in
through her nose before coughing as though she'd been gassed. "In any case,
it's nauseating. You should bathe. Also, I think it should be noted that it's
extremely alarming that you're currently forcing a twelve year old into a post-
coital snuggle just because your tart ran off when she realised just whom she
was shagging. Not that I blame her, of course. Clearly her perfume made her
delirious and you've taken shameless advantage of the girl."
"Such a piece of work!" Thorfinn laughed at her snarky tone even though she
stopped wriggling. She remained rigid in his lap, reclining against his chest,
but still making it obvious she didn't want to be touching him at all. "What's
your damage anyway, lion cub? You're too young to be knowing about
exhibitionism, voyeurism, porn or shagging."
"I'm twelve, thank you very much," she said. "And it's hardly my fault I'm
mature for my age and better at conversing with adults than other children. Not
that I talk to adults about such things, but I do read."
"You're muggle-born, right?" he asked, his arm belted across her narrow waist
as he tried to put his brain back in order.
He couldn't rightly say why he'd pulled her into his lap rather than just down
to sit on the bench next to him. He was planning to blame post-shag dopiness if
anyone saw him at it, anyway.
"I hardly see what that has to do with my levels of maturity and the topics of
conversation I happen to be knowledgeable about."
"Everything, actually. From what I hear, Muggleborns tend to be ostracized by
muggle children for their magic. You relate better to adults because the other
kids didn't want to play with the weird kid who exhibits accidental magic."
"They don't want to play with me when they realise how thick they are compared
to me either," she admitted, sighing softly and relaxing slightly against him.
Thorfinn smirked to himself at the habit she had of admitting her faults
without restraint. It was a trait that would probably get her into trouble
later, but he kind of liked her bravery in owning up to them rather than
projecting bravado like a Slytherin would.
"That means you're knowledgeable about all things sex related too then?" he
asked curiously.
"In theory, yes," she replied calmly. "I am only twelve."
"You're going to be trouble when you're of age, kid," he chuckled again at her
tone.
"I'm never trouble. Would you care to explain to me why you're hugging me,
Rowle? I was under the impression you found me to be a nuisance who almost got
you expelled for your indecent behaviour."
"You are a nuisance who almost got me expelled," he reminded her. "But you're
also currently holding still. Not used to having the girls I nail run off when
I'm done with them. They all want to snuggle or whatever."
"And yet here you are, snuggling me, while your tart is nowhere in sight.
Careful Rowle, you might get a reputation as a needy, post-coital cuddler."
Thorfinn snorted at her attitude and pinched her lightly through her clothing
in punishment for her sass. She didn't respond to the attack and instead fell
silent, simply choosing to sit quietly and not squirm. He kind of liked that.
Her wild hair was tickling his neck where she leaned against him, the unruly
curls winding themselves free of the bun she'd pulled them into. She was tiny
compared to him, emphasizing her young age and small stature in comparison to
his own.
"How's the NEWT study going?" she asked conversationally when he sighed and
closed his eyes, leaning against the wall and trying to organise his scattered
thoughts thanks to his recent climax. Merlin, he needed sleep.
"A nightmare," he answered honestly. "Do yourself a favour Granger; take as few
NEWT level subjects as possible. Pretty sure I'd have failed last term if not
for Snape's insistence on me doing homework in detention."
"I'm planning on taking as many as OWLs and NEWTs as I'm allowed," she informed
him and Thorfinn snorted at her naive innocence.
"You'll change your mind after your OWLs," Thorfinn said. "They don't call them
Nastily Exhausting for nothing, Kitten."
"I like exams," she replied. Thorfinn noted the way her hand on his wrist,
where she'd been trying to get him to release her, began to idly trace a
pattern against his skin.
"Of course you do, I've heard all about your know-it-all ways in the classroom.
The firsties complain that you brown-nose too much."
"They're just annoyed because they don't know the answers and it gets me more
house points if I'm answering questions," she dismissed the topic with a shrug.
"Are you planning on letting me go sometime this afternoon, Rowle?"
"I haven't decided yet," he chuckled. "You're really warm for a kid in a
skirt."
"Given the energy you've been expending, shouldn't you be hot and sweaty?
Everything I've read on the subject suggests your activities make one hot and
sweaty," she asked, clearly puzzled by his answer and Thorfinn couldn't help
but laugh.
"Twelve year olds reading erotica is disturbing, Granger, you know that,
right?"
"Less disturbing that stumbling across your naked behind every other week," she
retorted.
"Yeah, yeah," he rolled his eyes. "Don't pretend you don't perve on me. You
interrupt me on purpose, I'm sure of it. Which makes you a cock-block, by the
way. Don't be a cock-block, Princess."
"I believe that term is only relevant if one keeps another person from actually
convincing anyone to sleep with him," she argued. "All three times I've
interrupted you, you were already engaged in the act and therefore not blocked
from committing it. Now, I might accept being called a sadist if my
interruptions led to a lack of completion of the act."
"You're twelve and you're getting technical with me about sexual terminology,"
he shook his head, laughing heartily. "Odd little thing, you are."
That's a matter of perspective," she argued.
Shaking his head slightly, he didn't bother arguing with her further. He let
his eyes drift closed as he leaned against the wall of the otherwise deserted
corridor, the little lion cub was quiet on his lap and felt alarmingly good
there. He noticed idly, beyond the scent of his Ravenclaw conquest, that
Granger smelled like lavender and green tea, floral and sweet, yet refreshing.
Much better than the sickly sweet and heady concoction his latest conquest had
been wearing, in any case.
The feel of her fingers continuing to trace a soft pattern against the back of
his hand and the top of his forearm combined with the post-shag sleepiness and
his already overworked state lulled him towards sleep.
                          ~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~
Hermione sighed softly when she felt Rowle relax beneath her. The tension
drained from his muscular form and the arm he'd belted across her waist
loosened until he simply held her for the sake of it, rather than to restrain
her and keep her in place. She suspected from the way his breathing evened out
that the hulking Slytherin had just fallen asleep right there in the corridor.
The idea amused her more than it had any right to and she chuckled very softly
to herself. He was rather comfortable to sit on, actually.
She supposed she ought to get up, get to the common room, put her things away
and then make her way down to dinner before Harry and Ron began wondering where
she'd gotten to, but right at that moment she didn't much feel like it. Ron had
been grumbling during class that he had lots of incomplete homework and Harry
was supposed to have Quidditch training, so she knew that if she went back to
the common room after dinner, Ron would likely corner her and try to talk her
into helping him with his homework. Which almost always ended up with her doing
it for him when he got distracted or pouted because he didn't like her critique
on his assignments.
The alternative, of course, was to hide out in the library doing her homework
there, but Ron was getting cleverer about finding her and apparently rather
gifted at hide and seek. If she hid out there for too long, he almost always
located her and nagged her to help him. She was put out with him anyway because
he'd been rude to her in class when she knew the answer to a question and he
didn't. As though it was her fault she did her homework readings and he didn't?
That, or she could stay right where she was on the lumbering Viking of a
Slytherin's lap, soaking up the warmth of his impressive form while he napped.
If she was being honest, the appeal of staying right where she sat was strong.
He was comfortable and underneath the wretched sweet perfume of his trollop, he
smelled delicious. The citrus and smoke scent of his cologne was rather
intoxicating and he was comfortable. More to the point, Hermione found she
enjoyed the feel of being touched.
Her parents had always been very affectionate with her when she'd been young,
pulling her into hugs quite often or into either of their laps or into
snuggling cuddles on the couch when they watched films together. As her primary
source of comfort, being away from them was hard. Especially when she hadn't
managed to really fit in here at Hogwarts any more than she did outside of it.
She missed them often and she missed the warmth and comfort provided by a
simple hug.
Harry and Ron weren't particularly affectionate. Ron got funny about being
touched and Harry, she had noticed, tended to flinch away from her hand
slightly if she ever held it towards him. The few comments and things he said,
combined with his actions led her to believe that the muggles he'd been raised
by were rather cruel to him. As such neither of the only two friends she'd
managed to make at Hogwarts were overly forthcoming with their physical
comfort.
Thorfinn Rowle, on the other hand, was currently willing to curl and nap with
her in his arms and pressed against his large frame. He was warm, he smelled
nice and most importantly, he had initiated the contact. Hermione wondered if
he simply did it for the reason he'd said – that the girl he'd shagged had run
off and he wasn't used to not providing post-coital snuggling. Did he maybe
crave comfort in the form of human touch too? She doubted that many Slytherins
were overly forthcoming with affection of any kind. Everything she'd witnessed
when keeping both eyes peeled for this one and his annoying friends suggested
that they weren't even very close. They might laugh and joke and spend time
together, they might also be willing to do just about anything for one another.
But they didn't seem friendly and warm and affectionate the way she'd been
taught to be. They were cold. Collected. The love-you-from-a-distance types, as
her mother referred to such people. She wouldn't be surprised if underneath it
all, they craved physical contact too. Rowle's propensity for finding himself
between a witch's thighs certainly suggested he enjoyed intimacy. And Hermione
wasn't above taking shameless advantage of his willingness to cuddle just
because some other girl had turned down the offer.
She liked to be cuddled and if he was going to offer it – even in the form of
his taking a nap whilst holding her – Hermione would take it. Fishing one of
the textbooks she'd borrowed from the library out of her school bag, Hermione
shrugged the heavy sack from her shoulder and let it fall to the floor beside
Rowle's feet. She shifted as little as possible, wriggling slightly until she
was in a bit more comfortable a position. When she was reclined against his
chest where he slumped against the wall, Hermione opened her book and began to
read, sighing softly to herself in contentment.
The corridor they were in was a little-travelled one and Hermione doubted
anyone would happen along and spot them. Probably the appeal of Rowle using it
to shag in the first place. Sinking into the depths of her book, Hermione
soaked up the warmth and comfort offered by pressing her body against that of
another human being's and she smiled softly to herself as she perused the pages
until it grew too dark in the corridor to read by without having to constantly
stop and wave her arm to trigger the sensor and keep the torches of the
corridor lit.
Rowle snored very, very softly, the faintest snuffling sounds of disquiet
thanks to his undoubtedly uncomfortable choice for a sleeping spot and Hermione
closed her book, setting it aside and simply listening to him breathe for a
little while. She really ought to go. Someone was likely to notice her absence.
People would certainly notice his. More importantly, she was frenemies with
this boy. She kept catching him in delicate positions and she had seen more of
his anatomy than anyone else's except her own, but she had almost gotten him
expelled.
He had told her point blank that he would pay her back; that he would get
revenge. And that she wasn't thinking big enough with ideas of teasing, name-
calling or hexing. What did he have in mind then? She'd spent much of her
holidays pondering it and asking her mother about the inner workings of the
male mind, trying to figure out what he had planned. He seemed to be of two
minds about her. On the one hand, he had gotten into trouble because of her and
kept being interrupted mid-coitus by her. Thus he disliked her and certainly
never showed her any favour or friendship in front of anyone else. She often
caught him looking in her direction in the corridors or across the Great Hall,
his gaze speculative, narrowed or even hostile at times.
Yet on the other hand, he seemed rather intrigued by her abrasive nature, her
willingness to stand up for herself and for what was right. Her standing up to
Dolohov had caught his attention and her rudeness to Rowle himself seemed to
have intrigued, amused and annoyed him all in equal measure. He could have been
hostile at being interrupted again today, but he hadn't been. Instead he'd
talked to her in a mostly civil way and had pulled her into his lap before
promptly falling asleep.
Twisting slightly on his lap until she was perched upon one of his powerful
thighs, Hermione peered at him through the flickering firelight. His golden
hair gleamed even in the faint light, a messy sprawl of blond locks. It was
long, hanging to his shoulders and resting against the black of his robes
haphazardly. Some of it hung over his face, his eyes currently closed in
slumber.
He was unbearably handsome, if she was being honest. With a high, proud
forehead, a straight nose and perpetually pouting lips, he was easy on the
eyes. He already had a few faint creases across his forehead from frowning in
concentration or anger. Hermione knew he was easily angered and prone to
violence when enraged. She seen him lose his temper with more than one person
last term, NEWT level study clearly stressful and draining on him.
His eyes were one of his most alluring features when they were open, often
glittering with mischief, malice or mirth. The brilliant blue of them was
breathtaking and she berated herself silently for the fact that her initial
wariness for the boy had begun to morph into admiration and perhaps even a
little infatuation. She had lectured herself about it at length over the
holidays. He was too old for her, easily five or six years her senior. He was
going to graduate at the end of the year and she would be stuck at Hogwarts. He
had an explosive temper and he had threatened to exact revenge on her.
The worst thing she could possibly do was develop a crush on the boy but
Hermione suspected it might already be too late for that.
Watching him carefully as he slept, Hermione wriggled slightly in his hold,
trailing her fingertips over the hair that had fallen across his face and
tucking it behind his ear. She marvelled at how thick it was and yet how silky
it felt against her skin. Unlike her own coarse nest of curls, the tawny
strands of Thorfinn's hair were soft to the touch and silky smooth. Tucking the
pieces of what she suspected had been a stylishly cut fringe that had been
allowed to grow out, behind his ear, Hermione looked over his sleeping face
carefully before noticing the way the long strands of his hair almost
immediately tried to fall back into his face.
Without even really thinking about it, Hermione found herself reaching into the
pocket of her robes where she carried a small green velvet drawstring purse
filled with hair accessories. When she'd first been taken to Diagon Alley, her
dad - knowing how much she struggled to tame her riotous curls - had spotted a
number of wizarding products designed to better help control wild locks. The
man also had a tendency to spoil her and to lose control of his exuberance.
Inside the purse Hermione carried hair ties, leather strings, ribbons, clips,
pins, and all manner of other hair accessories.
A particular favourite her father had liked when he spotted them were some
decorative gold hair-beads. Charmed to snap closed over the end of a plait –
having discovered the best way to tame her curls was to plait it all together,
he'd insisted on buying her a packet of twenty goblin-made gold beads.
The problem was that her hair was too dark for such a colour without drawing
all manner of attention that Hermione didn't want to be attracting. She'd never
worn them but she still carried half a dozen of them around with her. They
might not suit her hair colour, but they would blend right into the golden mane
Thorfinn sported. Twisting her fingers carefully into the hair just behind his
left ear, Hermione sectioned off a small segment and began to plait it until he
had one long, narrow blond plait, making him look all the more like a Viking
warrior.
Fishing one of the gold beads from her purse, Hermione closed it around the end
of the plait, watching it clasp the hair and hold, securing it in place to keep
it from unwinding once more. The colour was almost a perfect match, the bead
gleaming in the firelight from the torch across the hall.
"What are you doing, Kitten?" the sleep-raspy voice of Thorfinn Rowle startled
her so violently that Hermione squeaked and almost toppled right out of his
lap. She would have done if not for the way his arm tightened around her once
more, continuing to hold her against him.
He hadn't tensed other than his arm, giving no indication of when he'd woken
and how long he'd been watching her play with his hair.
"You scared me," Hermione whispered, wide-eyed as she lifted her gaze from the
bead she'd put in his hair to meet his gaze.
He still looked tired, his eyes ever so slightly bloodshot, but he looked a
little bit better rested.
"Were you playing with my hair?" he asked, her, tipping his head to one side.
"It kept falling in your face," Hermione defended, her cheeks turning crimson
as she averted her eyes.
"It always does," he agreed. "What did you do?"
"I… plaited a small section," Hermione admitted.
He reached for the section she'd been playing with and missed. She'd done the
plait small and narrow, almost unnoticeable amid the thick locks. When he
combed his fingers through it, trying to find it and missed again, Hermione
reached for it, picking it up and guiding his hand to it. His fingers slid the
length of it slowly until they encountered the bead at the end.
"What's this?" he asked, his brow furrowing slightly.
"One of these," Hermione dug into her purse again to fish out another one. She
held it on the palm of her hand to show it to him.
His frown deepened for a moment before he reached for it, lifting it up to the
light and examining.
"You put one of these in my hair?" he asked carefully, his gaze drifting to her
face.
Hermione was still too embarrassed at being caught to look at him and she
resisted for a moment when she felt his fingers press gently against her chin,
tipping her head up until she had no choice but to meet his gaze.
"You can take it out," Hermione said, feeling self-conscious and bracing for
his rejection of the unsolicited gift. "I just thought… well, the colour suits
your hair better than mine. Makes you look more like a Viking too."
His blue eyes darted between each of her brown ones for several long seconds in
silence.
"Do you know what these are? What they represent?" he asked, tipping his head
to one side.
"They're just beads," Hermione shrugged. "I got them at Diagon Alley when I
turned eleven but they don't suit me. Give it back if you don't want it."
He blinked at her slowly before something flashed in his blue eyes and a mean
grin flew across his face. Just for a moment. Then it was gone again and a
curious expression replaced it.
"And if I keep it?" he challenged.
Hermione shrugged again, "Looks better in your hair than mine. I can put more
in, if you want? I've got a few of them."
He smirked at her slowly, his fingers still pressed under her chin to make her
hold his gaze.
"Maybe another time, little lion cub," he murmured. Hermione's cheeks turned
crimson again when he brushed the pad of his thumb over her lips gently, making
them tingle. "How long have I been asleep?"
"A little over an hour," Hermione admitted softly.
"Couldn't you get free?" he asked, his thumb still tracing her lower lip while
she perched on his left thigh.
"I…" Hermione blushed again, trying to look away from him when he looked so
intrigued and so amused.
He didn't say anything as he waited for an answer but it was very clear from
the expression on his face that he was waiting for an explanation about what
she was doing on his lap an hour after he'd fallen asleep.
"You're really warm," she whispered finally. "And comfortable. And I didn't
want to go back to the common room and listen to Ron nagging me for help with
his homework because he was rude to me in class today. I knew he'd find me in
the library and no one else ever seems to use this corridor since it takes
longer to get to Gryffindor Tower. So I just…"
"Stayed put," he smirked at her, finishing her sentence. "I take it this is
yours too?"
He reached for the book she'd set aside before she'd begun playing with his
hair.
"It got too dark to read and I had to squirm a lot to make the torch keep
coming on," Hermione explained.
"So you started playing with my hair instead?" he chuckled, teasing her lightly
when Hermione blushed again.
"Sorry," Hermione whispered, nervous and jittery in his presence now that he
was awake and tormenting her.
"Don't be," he murmured. "You can play with my hair any time you like, Baby-
girl."
Hermione blushed at the pet names he insisted on using every time he spoke to
her. This was not at all conducive to the idea of her keeping from fancying
him.
"I should go," Hermione whispered, noting how sleepy he still looked and
feeling rather unsettled by the way he was looking at her.
There was cunning in those blue eyes of his and Hermione had to remind herself
that he was a Slytherin first. Any means to achieve his ends would undoubtedly
be used and Hermione worried that he might do any number of things to her in
order to achieve his final goal of revenge upon her.
"Probably," he agreed with a small nod, still watching her.
Hermione nibbled her bottom lip and began to wriggle, intent on climbing off
his lap. He stopped her before she could, holding the bead he still clutched
out to her.
"Do you want me to put this one in too?" Hermione asked softly, taking the
small gold trinket from his hand.
"If you want," he nodded, smirking at her just a little.
Hermione looked him over carefully.
"Do you want me to?" she asked, frowning it him slightly. "I'm not sure I trust
you, Thorfinn Rowle."
His mean grin was back at her words.
"That's good, because you really shouldn't," he replied evenly. "But I'm not
going to prevent you from playing with my hair if it takes your fancy,
Princess. Put it wherever you want."
"You're not just going to pull them out later when you're friends spot them?"
Hermione asked. "They'll probably tease you about them. They look like the
immature type."
"I hardly think they'll find anything funny about being given such a gift,"
Thorfinn told her quietly. "I don't know about muggles but wizards find very
little amusement in the trading of body-adornment trinkets."
"Don't say it like that," Hermione wrinkled her nose at him. "They're just
beads."
"They're designed to be worn so that others can see them and know I was given
them," he disagreed. "Trust me Granger, no one who sees them is going to laugh
at me."
There was something in the way he said it, in the way he seemed so sure, that
made her feel a bit brave. Shifting across his lap to sit on his other thigh,
Hermione combed her fingers through his long blonde locks carefully, her cheeks
turning pink once more. Thorfinn held still as she did it, selecting several
strands of hair that rested against his temple. She made sure to pick the hair
from the under-layer, sectioning it off carefully and beginning to wind it into
a tight plait.
When she clamped the bead closed on the end of the plait once more, Hermione
smiled softly, feeling a little hum of something inside herself that felt
alarmingly like happiness.
"You like doing that, don't you, Baby-girl?" Thorfinn asked her, a smile
playing at the corners of his mouth.
"Yes," Hermione admitted bravely, her cheeks still pink.
"Good, you can put more in whenever you want, alright?" he asked.
Hermione nodded her head, climbing off his lap and watching as he handed her
bag and her book to her before getting to his feet himself. He was still
wearing his mean little grin as she nodded and he stretched before he spoke
again.
"Excellent," he hummed. "Then you and I have an understanding, Hermione
Granger."
With that said he winked at her cheekily, turned her by her shoulders in the
direction of Gryffindor Tower and walked away in the other direction, heading
back towards the lower levels of the castle. He didn't bid her goodbye as he
went but Hermione found herself watching over her shoulder as he left just the
same. She felt funny inside at the sound of him saying her name for the first
time. She felt another strange buzz of what felt suspiciously like magic inside
herself at the way he'd said they had an understanding, as though there was
something significant about it.
Shaking her head to herself, Hermione pushed the silly thoughts aside, scolding
herself for her ridiculous and growing infatuation with the boy. She walked
away and put the entire exchange out of her mind.
***** Chapter 6 *****
                                  CHAPTER SIX
===============================================================================
When the pop of Apparition announced the arrival of a House Elf two floors
later, Thorfinn Rowle couldn't say he was even a little bit surprised.
"Master? Is you alright?" Quincey asked in a squeaky voice. The little thing
dashed around in front of him to block his path, looking over him for injuries.
"I'm peachy, Quincey," Thorfinn smirked at the elf.
"But Master... my bonds to you... they is..." Quincey blinked at him before the
tiny female elf snapped her fingers, her eyes narrowed as she looked up at him.
Thorfinn watched in some amusement as the elf levitated herself to be on eye
level with him, her sharp eyes picking up the gleam of the two gold beads in
his hair easily enough. He held still as his personal elf reached for the beads
and examined them closely.
"Master... you is...?" Quincey asked, her eyes lit up with all the hope only
elves seemed able to express at the prospect of having someone extra to serve.
"It's an understanding, Quincey," Thorfinn told the elf quietly. "One she
doesn't know that she's just initiated and one I've yet to reciprocate."
"But you has acknowledged it, yes," Quincey nodded. "They is not the usual
trinkets given for such things, Master. She is special, this one."
"She's a right little swot, actually," Thorfinn laughed. "And a first year."
"She is young, yes," Quincey nodded, still fiddling with the solid gold beads
in his hair. "But she is strong. Quincey feels, Master. This one is strong. She
be good for Master, Quincey thinks. She be same as Mistress Pandora, yes?"
"A muggleborn?" Thorfinn nodded his head slowly. "My Father will throw a fit
when he finds out. Don't you go telling him either, Quincey. I'll not have him
knowing and trying to do the girl in. I forbid you from sharing her identity
with him unless not doing so would end a life."
"Of course, Master," Quincey agreed smiling toothily. "Mistress Pandora will be
so pleased when you tells her, Master. What is her name, Master?"
"Hermione Granger," Thorfinn told the elf. "And don't get too excited, Quincey.
This isn't permanent and won't be formally acknowledged for a long time. She's
still just a kid."
"Magic don't care about age, Master. Quincey knows," Quincey argued quietly.
"Why is it not permanent?"
"Because I'm going to use it to destroy her," Thorfinn told the elf. "She
nearly got me expelled last term. Nearly ruined my life. I plan to ruin hers."
Quincey blinked her big owlish at him and looked sceptical.
"If Master says so," was all the elf said on the matter.
"I need you to find me everything you can on her, Quincey. Health records.
Grades. Don't worry about things like property. I've already got hold of those
things. Dig into her family. How many cousins does she have? Aunts and uncles?
Where do they all live? Everything you can get for me. I also want a daily
report on what she's up to, alright?"
"Master is Quincey to show Quincey to the little Mistress?"
"Not if you can help it," he shook his head. "Not unless she's in danger or I
ask you to. She'll be confused if she sees you and I don't want her catching
onto our arrangement and my plans until I'm ready to reveal her undoing."
"Quincey understands, Master," the little elf nodded, smiling softly as she
allowed herself to levitate back to the floor where she stood, peering up at
him.
"Master?" Quincey asked after a few moments of silent debate.
"Mmm?" he asked, raising one eyebrow at the little thing.
"Quincey is pleased you changed your mind Master. When you was home you telled
Master Talon that you would never have such understanding or bond with a witch.
Quincey cried all night when you said that, Master."
Thorfinn's mouth twisted grimly at the reminder of the explosive argument he'd
had with his Father over the Christmas holidays when his father had begun
discussing the notion of seeing him engaged and beginning to settle down. He'd
even invited several witches and their families over for dinner in the hopes of
arranging a match. Thorfinn had smirked his way through every one of them when
the little trollops all tried not to blush crimson over the fact that he'd
already fucked most of them, either whilst at school with them or outside of it
at the number of Pureblood Elite functions he was expected to attend.
Astrid Parkinson had dropped her wine glass when he'd winked at her across the
table while no one was looking. Druella Carrow had choked on her appetizer when
he'd put his hand up her skirt under the table during the meal. Cassiopeia
Greengrass had tripped on her high heels when he'd been escorting her around
the gardens of Rowle Tower and had whispered in her ear that he had plans to
get grass-stains on her knees before he was letting her leave for the evening.
He'd done it too and Thorfinn knew his father had spotted the stains on
Cassie's knees as she was ushered out the door with her parents later that
evening. The argument that had followed had been beyond explosive and if not
for his grandmother discreetly dousing the fireplaces, they likely would have
burned the place down. His father had screamed at him about the indecency of
seducing his potential wife out of wedlock, about the disrespect to the witches
to have shagged them all before entering into any kind of formal arrangement.
The man had just about blown the roof right off the house when Thorfinn had
told him that he had no intention of marrying any of the uppity little
pureblood swots his father was trying to marry him off to, no matter the
political alliances it might buy them. When he'd gone on to insist that if his
father tried to have any hand in seeing him married before he was good and
ready for marriage - many years from now - he would never take a wife and the
name Rowle would die with him unless his little sister were to conceive out of
wedlock.
That particular argument had nearly bought him an early grave. All mention of
the idea that his sweet, obedient little sister - Reina - would ever do
anything but be a proper, pureblood princess, chaste and demure and innocent
forever, almost drove his father mad.
The princess of the family, doted upon and adored by both his mother and
father, Reina was an angel in their eyes. Admittedly, the mention of the notion
had rubbed him the wrong way too. His baby sister was much too special to him
to ever consider letting any rotten bastard lay his hands on her. He was
grateful he would be out of Hogwarts before she would be attending next year,
otherwise he was sure that by the time she was of an age where boys showed an
interest in her, he would rip them limb from limb.
Discussion of her conceiving out of wedlock had driven his father into a rage
that had ignited ever fireplace in the Tower and almost cost his mother her
favourite tapestry. Only his grandmother's intervention had kept him and his
father from murdering one another.
"I didn't mean to make you cry Quincey," Thorfinn told the small elf who'd been
with him since he'd been just a boy. "I simply didn't like the witches Father
was trying to fob off onto me."
"They was no good for you, Master," Quincey nodded. "They be much too amenable
to your will."
"You don't think I need a witch who'll do as I ask her?" Thorfinn snorted,
raising one eyebrow.
"Oh no, Master Thorfinn needs a witch who won't be afraid to scream at him,
even when he makes the fires jump. Master be needing a witch who will push his
limits and make him so mad he will want to rip her hair out and wring her neck.
The type of witch who will bend to Master's will, she be no good for Master.
Master Thorfinn would get bored. Quincey knows. Quincey raises Master Thorfinn.
Master always be getting bored when Quincey gives him what he wants, no
objections. Master used to throw his toys from the tower tops when he was given
them without a fight."
"You saying I need to be challenged or I'll pitch a fit?" Thorfinn chuckled at
the elf's assessment.
"Oh yes, Master. No challenge for Master, no interest to Master. This witch
with whom you have arrangement, is she challenging, Master?"
"She hits me with books and tells me I'm a Neanderthal and a moron and a sexual
deviant," Thorfinn chuckled. "But that's not the point. She's still a kid. Only
two years older than Reina. And until I reciprocate with some form of jewellery
in kind, it means nothing. Even when I do, it won't be permanent, Quincey."
"Magic don't care about age, Master," Quincey repeated, shaking her head from
side to side as she peered up at him. "Quincey fetches records now, Master."
Thorfinn nodded with agreement at her eagerness to fetch what he'd asked her
for. The elf bowed deeply before disapparating with a soft pop.
                               ~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~
Weeks passed before Hermione dared to even look in the direction of the
Slytherin table after the incident with Rowle in the hallway. Hermione herself
had been busy. She'd spent as much of her time studying as she could, going out
of her way to borrow as many books as she could from the library, reading them
all and returning them once more. She largely put Thorfinn Rowle and his sexual
deviousness out of her mind as she went about studying for her classes.
Exams were drawing nearer and Hermione could feel the strain upon the teachers,
the other students and even the castle. She often found herself searching for
reference books to do her classwork that other students had already checked out
or were already using. She was frequently denied permission from Madam Pince to
borrow many of the books she wanted for light-reading purposes in case NEWT or
OWL students needed them for exam study. People had begun having breakdowns.
In the Gryffindor common room two weeks prior, Percy Weasley had shouted
himself hoarse when some third years decided that a game of Exploding Snap was
in order. He'd been red in the face and positively frothing with rage by the
time Professor McGonagall had arrived. Matters hadn't been helped by the fact
that Ron's elder twin brothers, Fred and George, had further goaded Percy by
spilling ink on his homework, tripping over his collection of books and making
them all topple and then pretending to apologise to their brother profusely for
their clumsiness. Hermione had looked on rather disapprovingly at the way the
twins had goaded their elder brother until he'd screamed.
In the Great Hall just yesterday, another breakdown had occurred. This time it
was a seventh year Ravenclaw girl by the name of Arabella Hastings. Hermione
recognised her as being the Ravenclaw she'd last caught Thorfinn shagging in
the corridors. The poor thing had broken out in boils all over her skin, crying
and blubbering into her pumpkin juice at breakfast. She'd heard it had all been
a build-up of pressure pertaining to exam study, combined with the obvious
horror of having Double Potions that morning with Snape. Hermione had been told
by a first year Ravenclaw named Terry Boot that Hastings had sobbed in fear of
the failing grade she anticipated on her most recent essay.
Things were getting out of hand as exams drew closer and a number of other
inconvenient things had been happening for Hermione as well. Harry had taken to
wandering the halls late at night beneath his Invisibility Cloak. Muttering
about a mirror that showed his parents and how it had been moved. She, Ron and
Harry had all received detentions for being out of bed after hours with Hagrid
while the man foolishly hatched a dragon egg in his little wooden cabin upon
the grounds.
They'd been sent into the forest looking for dead unicorns and what might be
killing them. Even more alarmingly, poor Harry had encountered just what had
been killing them. Hermione had a terrible fear that for all that the history
books said He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was vanquished, the thing killing the
unicorn was him. Harry had said it had floated like some sort of bodiless
wraith.
Hagrid's slips pertaining to Nicholas Flammel and her subsequent research into
the wizard had taught her that there was a Philosopher's Stone and that it
could make a person immortal. She was convinced that the thing killing the
unicorns wanted the stone and that it was acting through one of the teachers to
get it. Snape seemed the most likely, given how creepy he was, she just didn't
understand why a respected teacher would be trying to assist a wraith at all,
let alone one that might very well be You-Know-Who. As such, things had been
rather hectic for Hermione.
That, combined with her embarrassment over being caught playing with Rowle's
hair whilst sitting on his lap and her embarrassment over having him know she
had preferred to sit on his lap while he slept than to seek out one of her
friends had meant she hadn't had much time or inclination for keeping an eye on
the big blond Slytherin. She hadn't dared to look at him for too long, lest she
notice whether or not he still wore the beads she'd put in his hair and whether
or not he was looking at her.
Despite her distraction, her interest in him had only grown and Hermione was
fairly certain she was nursing a small crush on the boy. Sighing to herself,
Hermione glanced towards the persistently giggling Hufflepuff girls a few
tables over from here where she was sitting in the library, trying to write the
foot long essay Snape had demanded on the uses of moonstone in potions. A group
of five fourth-year Hufflepuff girls had wandered their way into the library
and Hermione was thinking seriously about hexing all of them.
Every few minutes they would all giggle again, none of them paying attention to
their studies. Hermione narrowed her eyes on them as she glared at them again,
trying to figure out what they were laughing at. All of them were looking
across the library towards something out of Hermione's line of sight. Leaning
carefully, Hermione shifted at her table slightly until she could see what had
so captured their ridiculous attentions.
There, sitting at a table surround by scrunched up wads of parchment, an empty
inkwell, a broken quill and more books that she could poke a stick at was none
other than the Slytherin boy she was harbouring a crush on. Hermione supposed
that the girls must be laughing at his handsomeness, trying to earn his
attention or something equally annoying. He was very nice to look at, after
all. It was hardly surprising that they would be trying to gain his favour but
they were going about it the wrong way.
From the looks of the books surrounding him and the frustrated scowl on his
face, he was in the middle of studying and looked like the last thing he wanted
was stupid, giggling girls interrupting his train of thought. Hermione blinked
when his long hair all fell forwards into his eyes while he was bent over the
desk writing something. It was even longer than it had been weeks and weeks ago
when she'd been playing with it. Hermione watched in some amusement and
sympathy when Rowle loosed a low growl of annoyance, swiping his hands through
the blond locks and forcing it all back away from his face so he could continue
to study.
As he did so, she caught the gleam of a gold bead hanging from a small plait
leading from his temple and she smiled, more pleased than she had any right to
be to know he was still wearing her beads in his hair. Closing her own books
and beginning to pack up her things, Hermione knew she wouldn't be able to get
anything else done with her evening when those stupid girls giggled again.
Tucking her essay, quill, ink and books back into her bag, Hermione got to her
feet just in time to see Rowle's hair fall into his eyes again. He cursed
quietly before dropping his quill and snatching up his wand. Catching the evil
intent in his eyes as he grabbed a fistful of the long blond locks, Hermione
realised he was about to use a slicing hex on the strands and potentially give
himself the worst haircut of all time. Hurrying over to his table, Hermione
fished her hair-accessory purse form the pocket of her robes as she went.
She didn't even stop to think about announcing herself or about how it might
look for her to appear out of nowhere and help herself to his person. She
simply did so. Scooping her fingers through the long golden strands, Hermione
pried them all from his fist, unearthing a long black leather string form her
purse. Sweeping all of the strands back from his hairline, Hermione gathered
the offending strands that had been annoying him and tied them all together
with the leather throng.
"Who…?" Thorfinn was in the process of growling, making her job harder when he
turned his head and tried to see who was assaulting him.
His scowl died right there on his face when he spotted her wrapping the leather
into his hair to make it look manly rather than like he had a weird ribbon
holding his hair back. She made sure to only tie the upper layers, leaving the
long mane of tawny locks from behind his ears and his nape loose and free about
his enormous shoulders.
"Princess?" he asked, blinking bloodshot eyes at her stupidly for a moment.
"Hold still, could you, Rowle?" Hermione asked him quietly as she tied off the
throng until none of the hair was annoying him anymore.
"Where did you come from?" he asked, clearly surprised to see her.
"Over there," Hermione nodded. "Your fan club disturbed me with their asinine
giggling over your frustrations here."
He raised one eyebrow and Hermione tipped her head in the direction of the
Hufflepuff girls. Her fingers were still toying with sections of his hair and
Hermione watched the way he glanced at the girls before looking back toward her
and rolling his eyes in disgust. She found herself working another plait into
his hair as she looked at him, fixing a bead into the end of it with a soft
snap.
She felt a strange little hum of happiness course through her as she did so and
she noticed that the girls across the room had stopped giggling now.
"Jealous, Kitten?" Rowle asked her, quirking one eyebrow at her.
"Of what?" Hermione blinked at him in return and he smirked at her widely.
"You can keep doing that if you want," he told her shifting his head slightly
when her fingers toyed with the idea of another plait near the nape of his
neck.
"I'm not annoying you or distracting you?" Hermione asked as she plaited
another one and fixed a fourth bead into his hair.
You stopped it all falling in my face," he told her. "Not sure you could annoy
me tonight, after that. Come here, would you?"
He reached for her, scooping one arm around her waist and pulling her towards
himself.
"What are you doing?" Hermione asked him, frowning. "You're supposed to be
studying, Rowle."
"You don't have to keep calling me that, you know?" he asked, grinning. "You
can call me Thorfinn or Thor if you like. You've seen me naked, I hardly think
formalities need to be observed. Stop squirming, would you? I want you to sit
here."
He shifted back slightly on his chair, pointing to the cushion between his
thighs.
"How are you going to study if I sit there?" Hermione asked, raising both
eyebrows as the butterflies in her tummy all began to flutter violently.
"You're aware that you're tiny, right, little lioness?" he asked her, smirking
now. "I mean to work around you. And don't give me that look, I doubt you
actually object to sitting in my lap again and I know you can read quietly and
not distract me. Hell, you managed to sit quiet and read while I slept and
didn't disturb me. It'll be fine."
Hermione blinked at him in confusion even as he pulled her down into his lap
and manipulated her over his thigh until she bum was firmly on the cushion
between his legs. She hated herself a little bit for the fact that she suddenly
found herself craving the physical contact of being pressed against anyone in a
hug as she'd done last time she'd been on his lap. She hadn't been hugged or
touched so much in weeks. Not since the last time she'd been in his lap. And
much like she'd done last time, Hermione found herself relaxing slightly
against the warm strength of his body as she sighed softly.
"You're making even more people dislike me than already did," Hermione told him
softly, lowering her bag to the floor between her feet when she felt him prop
his chin on top of her head.
"Those slags?" he asked, clearly referring to the Hufflepuffs, all of whom were
looking scandalized and outraged at her behaviour and the obvious fact that
he'd just pulled her into his lap without a care in the world about who might
see them or what people might think of a seventh year Slytherin snuggling with
a first year Gryffindor.
"More people who will want to hex me in the hallways," Hermione nodded. "This
is all your fault, Thorfinn."
"You're the one who's playing with my hair in public, Baby-girl," he muttered
to her his arm sliding around her waist and shifting her slightly on the
cushion until she was pressed back against him, her back to his chest until his
warmth enveloped her completely.
Hermione hated herself all the more for the riot of butterflies over his
continued insistence on using pet-names for her. Rather than commenting and
potentially saying something stupid, Hermione reached for her bag between her
feet, fishing her textbook back out of it and burying her nose amid the pages.
She heard Rowle snort at her behaviour even as he picked up his quill once more
and began scratching out information on his essay.
She was surprised by how easily he was able to work with her sitting where she
did. He was much bigger than her and the orientation of the chair and the desk
meant he could easily reach around her but he didn't at all seem to mind having
her pressed to him, her book resting against the edge of the table while he
continued his research. Unable to help herself, Hermione found herself reading
the essay he was working on, noting it was a detailed, NEWT level
Transfiguration essay pertaining to Animagi and how the transformation could be
achieved.
Having not yet learned about it, she read the essay avidly and when Rowle put
his quill down to reach for another textbook on the subject, clearly looking to
double check his facts, Hermione found herself picking it up and correcting the
sentence structure he'd been using. She didn't even think about the fact that
he might object or that she was interrupting him and drawing attention to
herself as she sat there correcting misspelled words, adding the proper grammar
needed in parts and scratching out whole sentences before re-writing them in
her neat script above his widely spaced, rather messy run-on scrawl.
"Having fun there?" he asked her when she scratched out an entire paragraph
about the use of mandrake leaves in unlocking the properties within the magical
core to allow for the transformation to begin, re-wording the entire thing.
"Hmmm?" Hermione asked, not really listening as she corrected his work.
He snorted in amusement at her distraction, Hermione noticed idly.
"You're a funny little thing, witch," he accused her softly. "You've pissed
those Hufflepuffs right off; you're correcting NEWT level work despite being a
first year; you've made an enemy of Dolohov and you're currently snuggled up
with the bloke you almost got expelled. This despite the number of times you've
seen my cock, my arse or both, all three times in incidents of sexual
deviousness that had nothing to do with you. Most first years are terrified to
talk to me."
"Are you complaining because you don't want me to correct your poorly worded
sentences, Thorfinn Rowle?" Hermione asked him mildly, still scratching away
with his quill.
"Hells, witch, don't full-name me unless I'm in trouble, yeah?" he chuckled.
"Makes me think my mother's about to rip me a new one. Call me Thor, would
you?"
"I can't do that," Hermione shook her head.
"Because you barely know me, despite the snuggling, the seeing me shag and
seeing me naked bit?" he scoffed.
"No," Hermione disagreed. "Because Thor is the name of a Norse god and though
you might look very much like a lumbering blond Viking, I don't much fancy the
idea of referring to you as though you're a deity. Your ego is rather big
enough without that, I think."
He began to laugh at her words.
"Only you would think about shit like that, Princess," he muttered, his mouth
by her ear sending her tummy-butterflies into a gymnastics routine. "You
actually have a problem with calling me Thor?"
"I do," Hermione nodded.
"Too formal calling me Rowle," he went on, musing quietly. "Especially given
our understanding."
He was quiet for a moment and Hermione jumped slightly when he reached up and
swept all the curls away from her right shoulder before pressing his cheek
against the side of her neck, hooking his chin over the top of her shoulder and
leaning into her a little more. His free arm curled around her waist once more,
pressing her against him in what could only be a cuddle.
"You can call me Finn, if you want?" he said very softly and Hermione got the
feeling from the way he pressed his hand flat against her stomach and the tone
in his voice that he never let anyone call him Finn. That if she were to do so,
she would likely be the only one addressing him that way.
The idea of having something special to call him without using a pet-name she
would stammer over and blush about was entirely too appealing to her and
Hermione began to suspect she was in trouble. She had had crushes in the past
of course, silly little things that meant nothing with muggle boys she'd been
to primary school with. But this was different. He was a seventh year student.
He would be graduating within the year. He was already seventeen and he
undoubtedly did not think of her in any manner that could be considered
anything other than platonic. If she was being truthful she doubted he even
thought of her all that fondly.
"Finn?" she whispered, rolling the name around in her mouth and getting a feel
for it.
"Mmm."
His hum of affirmation made her feel a little more confident.
"You don't mind?" Hermione asked. "Does anyone else call you Finn?"
"No one," he replied. "Except my grandmother when she was really happy with me
when I was a kid. Not in more than ten years."
Hermione nodded her head slowly. Just as she was opening her mouth to say
something, the words died on her tongue. Across the library, wandering around
with an essay dangling from one hand and clearly searching for her was none
other than Ron Weasley. He looked confused and frustrated, as though he was
annoyed that it was taking him so long to find her. Hermione would bet he'd
just realised they had an essay due for Flitwick tomorrow – the one she'd been
nagging him about all week. He clearly needed help on it and the last thing she
felt like doing was working on Ron's essay for him when he inevitably got bored
of it.
The pressure of knowing when it was due and knowing that he would be angry and
put out with her if he didn't get it done in time to submit tomorrow would
likely result in her writing the stupid thing for him and Hermione was getting
rather tired of that already. Her whole body went tense at the sight of the
red-haired boy who was clearly on the look-out for her but had yet to spot her,
obviously not expecting her to be sitting in the lap of a seventh year
Slytherin boy.
"Avoiding your little friends again, Cub?" Finn whispered in her ear, his arm
tightening around her middle subconsciously as though he were reacting to the
way she tensed and her sharply indrawn breath.
"He's going to try and make me write his essay that's due tomorrow," Hermione
whispered. "The one I've been nagging him to write all week."
"That right?" Rowle asked and there was a tone in his voice as though the idea
annoyed him.
"It's due first thing. He'll nag me for references and then ask me to read his
introduction, check the first paragraph. Then he'll get tired and bored and his
mind will wander and I'll be left to finish the essay for him to avoid feeling
guilty if it's not ready for class tomorrow," Hermione sighed, shrinking in on
herself and pressing back against Rowle even more. She found herself wishing
she could drop right off the cushion and hide under the table to keep from
being spotted.
"Hold still, Princess," Finn muttered in her ear. "And don't gasp. This will
feel funny."
Taking up his wand, the blond wizard tapped her on the top of the head and
Hermione shivered when it felt like someone had just poured a goblet of water
over her head to trickle down the back of her shirt. Disillusionment charms.
Holding perfectly still, Hermione even held her breath as she waited for Ron to
scan the section of the library before he moved on, obviously unable to see
her. He barely spared a glance in Thorfinn's direction, dismissing the elder
Slytherin quickly.
When he moved off again, Thorfinn lifted the charm.
"Tell me again why you're happy to sit here and correct my work but don't want
to help your friend with his homework, Kitten?" Thorfinn teased lightly.
"Because you've done the work yourself and have no expectation that I'll write
it for you while you goof off playing cards or chess," Hermione replied,
sighing. "Thank you for hiding me."
Thorfinn shrugged, jostling her slightly in his lap.
"I take it I don't even need to ask if you've done your essay?" he asked jus
the same.
"I've had my Charms essay done since the day it was given to us," Hermione told
him. "I was working on my moonstone essay for Snape until your fan club's
giggling drove me mad and I spotted you trying to give yourself a bad haircut."
"Yeah, saved me from that horror," Thorfinn chuckled. "My mother will be so
disappointed. She's been waiting for me to get frustrated enough with my hair
that I cut it myself or burn it off, for years. Since I was about fourteen."
"She doesn't like that you wear it long?" Hermione asked.
"Hates it," Thorfinn told her. "Thinks it makes me look scruffy and I that
overdo the Viking bit. Descended from them, you know? Dad's side. Mum hates it.
Says I'll never get a decent job with hair like this."
"Didn't I hear rumours that you're angling for a professional Quidditch
career?" Hermione asked in reply.
"Been keeping tabs on me, Lioness?" he teased.
"Ron follows the leagues extensively. I was under the impression after the last
match that you've been approached by the Bats?" Hermione shrugged, blushing
pink at his teasing just the same.
"You really are a know-it-all, Princess," Finn chuckled quietly. "The Bats made
me an offer a few weeks ago to play for them when I graduate, but I haven't
accepted it yet."
"Why not?" Hermione asked. "If you want to be professional player, why aren't
you jumping at the chance to accept their offer?
"I'm holding out to see if the Arrows will offer me a spot," he admitted. "One
of their Beaters will be retiring at the end of the season and I reckon I'm a
shoe in."
"The Arrows are your favourite team?" Hermione asked.
"Yeah, plus their home pitch is in Appleby. I don't much fancy moving to
Ballycastle to play, but I will if I have to."
"Why would you have to?" Hermione asked, baffled, "You're a wizard, just Floo
over there."
"The leagues practice every day," he scoffed. "And International Floo is rough,
even between here and Ireland. International Apparition is worse. The
likelihood of getting splinched increases tenfold. I'd likely kill myself
trying to get to practice. I'd have to move over there to play for them."
"Oh," Hermione said.
"You know what Apparting and Portkeys are, right Kitten?" he asked a few
minutes later and Hermione felt her cheeks turn pink.
"I know what a portkey is," Hermione admitted. "Though I've never seen one in
action. Apparation is like tele-porting, right?"
"What's tele-porting?" he asked in return.
"Disappearing from one place and appearing in another," Hermione explained.
"Yeah, that pretty much it," he chuckled. "Only it feels like being squeezed
through a long straw. Makes you a bit squeamish. Most people vomit the first
few times they try it."
"Delightful," Hermione grumbled, taking his quill from him again when he
misspelled several words in the sentence he was writing because he was
distracted.
"Snippy little thing," Finn muttered to her and Hermione rolled her eyes,
giving the quill back and returning her attention to her book.
Thorfinn continued on with his homework, adjusting her against him whenever he
needed to bend over and reach for something. Hermione found she didn't even
mind. He was warm, he smelled delicious and he didn't interrupt her reading
even when he did move her. She didn't know how long she sat there with him,
pressed back against his chest, enjoying the silence but for the scratch of his
quill and the occasional muttering he loosed when he would read aloud from one
of his books when he found contradicting facts.
"Oi, what are you working on?" Dolohov's obnoxious voice intruded sometime
later when Hermione was lost in the pages of her textbook and Finn was still
muttering to himself about the pros and cons of animagi.
Hermione felt the way Thorfinn's arm around her middle tensed slightly,
pressing her to him a little more firmly as though he were acutely aware of the
fact that he ought not to be getting caught with her sitting in his lap.
"And what the fuck have you done to your hair, you bloody git?" Dolohov was
laughing, eyeing him with amusement before his eyes fell on Hermione as she
slowly looked up from her book.
Hermione didn't doubt her eyes were wide with alarm at her position between
Thorfinn's legs.
"I see you've captured yourself a mudblood as well," Dolohov's smirk was cruel
as he glared at Hermione. "Holding her hostage for something?"
At that moment his loud voice summoned Madam Pince and Hermione looked back
down at her book, her cheeks burning crimson.
"This is a library, Mr Dolohov!" the librarian scolded. "If you cannot keep
your voice down, you will be removed immediately."
She was so intent on shushing Dolohov and Thorfinn had so many books spread
over his work desk that Pince didn't seem to see Hermione nestled against his
chest, trying to make herself as small and invisible as possible.
"Mr Rowle, I expect you to put every one of these books away when you are
finished them or you will serve another month's detention," Pince went on to
scold Finn when she was done with Dolohov.
She bustled away without another word, obviously not noticing Hermione where
she sat or not objecting to the position she was in if she did notice.
"You've got something foul stuck to your robes, there mate," Dolohov said when
Pince was out of earshot, throwing himself into the seat across the desk from
where Rowle was sitting and clearing enough space for himself to get his own
homework done.
"Where've you been?" Finn asked rather than commenting on Dolohov's rudeness.
Hermione decided to hold her tongue for the time being. She still hadn't been
able to figure out what the word 'mudblood' meant, though she could tell it was
an insult. She'd tried looking it up, but hadn't had any luck. She suspected
from the vicious way Dolohov liked to use it that it wasn't something polite to
say, even if only uttering it to determine the meaning of the word.
"Just got through with number eighty-seven on the list," Dolohov smirked at his
friend.
"Shit, with who?" Rowle asked, leaning forward a little to whisper across the
table.
"One from every house," Dolohov winked. "Hastings was the Ravenclaw, you knew
about Kendra as the Slytherin. Snogged that weird little Metamorphmagus bird
from Hufflepuff. And I just got done with Camilla Brown for the Gryffindor. Not
that she was thrilled about it, mind you."
"How many have you got left?" Thorfinn asked the dark haired boy.
"Only eight to go," Dolohov smirked, "I'm going to need a hand with number
ninety-three."
"Yeah, I know," Thorfinn chuckled, "Next week. Monday night, I reckon."
"Careful, you don't want to go tipping of the little tattle-tale of what we'll
be doing," Dolohov sneered in her direction, but Hermione ignored him.
"She's not going to tattle on me ever again, are you Princess?" Finn spoke for
her, his lips moving to her ear.
"Depends on what you do, Finn," Hermione replied, still not looking up from her
book, her cheeks turning pink and the butterflies in her tummy fluttering at
the contact. "If you break school rules badly enough, I most likely will."
"After everything I've done for you?"
"I do hope you're not referring to the idea of concealing me from my friends as
being a great service worthy of my eternal gratitude to you, Thorfinn Rowle.
You will find yourself sorely mistaken," Hermione told him.
"Do I even want to know what she's doing in your lap?" Dolohov asked, raising
one eyebrow at their exchange and eyeing Hermione like he might still enjoy
hexing her if he could get away with it.
"I call it 'sitting'," Thorfinn drawled in return.
"Bit young for snuggling, isn't she mate?" Dolohov asked. Hermione glanced up
to see him wearing an expression that might have been one of concern if not for
the lingering disgust and hatred for her that glittered in his eyes.
"Toshka?" Thorfinn asked, lowering his voice slightly.
"Yeah?" Dolohov queried.
"Blow me, mate," Thorfinn told the other boy, causing Dolohov to laugh.
"Perhaps my accusation of being bum buddies wasn't so far off," Hermione
muttered just loud enough for both wizards to hear her, though she kept her
eyes on her book.
"Keep it up, you little fucking bitch," Dolohov began darkly, "and I'll see to
it that your mouth is otherwise occupied in future."
"Don't be disgusting, Dolohov, she's a fuckin' kid!" Thorfinn growled low at
the other wizard. "Just back the fuck off. You deserved it for calling her a
mudblood. Don't provoke her if you can't handle it when she pokes you back."
"Now you're defending her?" Dolohov asked, looking surprised. "She nearly got
you expelled, Thor. She nearly fucked your entire life right up, and you're
defending her? Snuggling with her?"
Hermione didn't see the expression Thorfinn shot the other boy. She did see the
way the fireplace within the library across the room suddenly roaring, the
flames leaping halfway up the chimney and causing several people to exclaim in
surprise. She got the feeling Thorfinn was responsible.
"Don't get fiery with me, Thor," Dolohov narrowed his eyes at the blond wizard.
"I was just stating the obvious. She's too young for snuggling. She's a tattle-
tale. She's a mudblood, and she's a fucking Gryffindor. And she's a rude little
swot, to boot."
With all of that said, the dark haired boy lowered his eyes to his paper and
Hermione watched the way Rowle's fist clenched around his quill until it looked
like it was going to snap. The fireplace grew even more out of control and
Madam Pince came rushing over, wielding her wand to try and tame the flames.
Plucking the quill from his grip with some difficulty before he could destroy
it, Hermione tried to diffuse the tension by pulling his essay closer and
editing it again.
"Is she seriously doing your homework?" Dolohov asked a little while later when
Hermione was close to finished, re-writing a sentence that made no sense
whatsoever.
"Is he seriously this dense all the time?" Hermione asked of Thorfinn in
retort, being sure to parrot Dolohov's tone.
"You two are going to be the bloody death of me with this bullshit," Thorfinn
grumbled, taking his quill back so he could continue writing his essay.
"Don't you have somewhere else to be, lion cub?" Dolohov asked, his dark eyes
lifting to rake over Hermione subjectively for a few long moments.
He looked like he was seeing her for the first time.
"Nowhere that doesn't involve doing other people's homework for them rather
than simply correcting Finn's," Hermione replied evenly.
She eyed the boy in return, noticing his faintly scowling features and rather
loathing him for how handsome he looked in spite of the scowl. His dark hair
had a few waves in in, his cheekbones were chiselled and his chin was sharp. He
had just the faintest dusting of stubbled lining his angular jaw and his
dislike for her was obvious.
"What'd you call him?" he asked, looking amused by the address and smirking a
little.
"Finn," Hermione replied, shrugging her shoulders delicately and feeling the
way her body brushed against Thorfinn's.
Hermione watched the way Dolohov's eyes lifted to Rowle's face above her own,
his eyes questioning and looking confused and a little scornful as though he
were expecting Finn to scold her for calling him something she suspected he
discouraged others from calling him. Thorfinn shrugged his shoulders at
Hermione had done, his much larger body jostling hers as he moved. As he did
so, some of his hair fell forwards to tickle her neck and Hermione brushed at
it idly.
When the brushing was ineffective, Hermione set her book on her lap and twisted
slightly in Thorfinn's lap. A section of his hair almost directly next to the
plait she'd put behind his left ear – the first one she'd put in – was the
culprit for tickling her. Hermione didn't even think about it as she began
segmenting it off before weaving the long golden strands into another plait,
making him look all the more like a Viking by the second. She held the end of
the plait one-handed whilst digging into her purse with the other.
Another of those happy little hums of magic seemed to fill her as she closed
the bead around the end of the plait and watched with swing before it tinkling
softly as it collided with the one beside it. A soft chuckle left Thorfinn, so
quiet she felt it more than heard it. The sound of sputtering drew her
attention and when she looked back across the table at Dolohov, Hermione found
him staring at the pair of them wide-eyed. His jaw dangled, his mouth open in
surprise as his gaze darted between Hermione's face, Rowle's, and the plait
she'd just put in his hair.
"She just… you…" he spluttered.
Hermione felt Thorfinn's arm around her middle tighten slightly as she shifted
to a new position on the cushion, reaching across the table for a book as he
went on with his essay, seemingly ignoring his friend, though he stared at him.
Dolohov's eyes flashed with sudden understanding before they widened again,
jumping back to meet Hermione's confused look over his reaction to one little
plait. When a wretchedly cruel smirk crawled across his face, Hermione felt a
chill run down her spine and she leaned a little more firmly against Rowle,
drawing on his warmth to ward off her sudden unease.
It only grew when Dolohov whispered, "Bloody hell!"
***** Chapter Seven *****
                                 CHAPTER SEVEN
===============================================================================
Thorfinn found Antonin watching him from his bed in the dungeons several hours
later. He had his arms folded over his chest and he was reclining on his bed,
watching and waiting for Thorfinn to finish bathing and to be on the way to
bed. It had taken him hours to get his essay finished. Hours of sitting in the
library with a certain little lioness perched on the cushion between his legs
and reclining against his chest as though she belonged there.
"Do you know what you're doing?" Antonin asked without preamble. Their fellow
seventh years were already asleep, having turned in much earlier.
Thorfinn could see Pucey's arm hanging off the edge of his bed, one leg thrown
free of the sheets. Across the room, snoring obnoxiously, Thorfinn could also
see Bulstrode's massive form. The other three boys sharing his dormitory all
had their curtains drawn or were yet to retire to their beds for the night.
Shaking his head at his fellow Slytherins, Thorfinn focused his attention on
his best friend, towel-drying his hair with one hand and making two of the gold
beads tangled in it click together repeatedly.
He didn't have to be a genius to know what Antonin was referring to.
Granger.
Granger and her beads and the understanding they'd come to.
"Yeah, I do," Thorfinn nodded his head slowly.
"You've got a bloody understanding with her?" Antonin demanded. "Have you
reciprocated? How long have you been wearing those things?"
He nodded his head towards the four beads now at home in his hair.
"She put two in it weeks ago," Thorfinn shrugged. "And I acknowledged it.
Haven't reciprocated yet, but I mean to. Waiting for an excuse to give her
something without making her suspicious immediately. If she keeps up with
editing my bloody homework, I'll give her something as a show of gratitude for
getting me through my bloody exams."
"Fuck!" Antonin cursed. "Weeks? You've had an understanding with the witch for
weeks and you didn't fucking tell me? She's a filthy mudblood, Thor!"
"It's not like I'm actually going to go through with it, you idiot," Thorfinn
rolled his eyes. "She's going to learn what it's like to have her life ruined,
I get my revenge, and I can get on with shit without my folks nagging me."
"You…" Antonin began hotly before he stopped, "You're not actually going to
marry her?"
"What the fuck do you think?" Thorfinn scoffed. "It's just an understanding.
It'll drive anyone who knows what's what in our world away from her and she'll
find herself screwed over when she learns what else I've done to exact my
revenge. Dropping her at the end of all this mess will only hurt her prospects
further."
"And until then? Those types of arrangements come with fidelity clauses and
shit, mate. Violating them has unsavoury effects, alerts the other person,
makes them volatile and cranky. What are you going to do when she's old enough
to start screwing around and you fly off the handle and kill someone? You
already have fuck all control over your temper. "
"She's twelve," Thorfinn rolled her eyes. "And she won't know about that. Hell,
she won't even know about the understanding unless she looks it up at some
later date. Or unless it's still in effect by the time someone else tries to
form an arrangement with her or tries to bloody marry her."
"Do those kinds of things even work that young? Magic is about intent, if she
doesn't know what it's supposed to represent in our culture, she won't have the
intent to spark the bond," Antonin mused.
"Oh, it works," Thorfinn told him, smirking and tossing his towel on top of his
trunk. "Every time she puts another bead in my hair, I can feel it
strengthening the bond that's already forming."
"How are you going to reciprocate? When we graduate she's not going to keep
sending you beads or be putting shit in your hair. And if you keep in contact
with her once we're out of here, she's going to think that you're playing her,
especially if you ever asked her for more beads. The bond will fizzle out if
you don't renew it often enough with physical touch, additional trinkets or
regular meetings."
"I'll send her things anonymously," Thorfinn shrugged, "Birthday gifts and that
sort of shit. Something new every year will uphold it until I can unveil how
thoroughly I intend to fuck her over. Until she grows up old enough that I can
actually fuck her, too. She'll think she has an admirer and she doesn't know
the meaning of being given jewellery in our culture. She had no clue how
serious a thing she'd done when she put the first bead in my hair. Shrugged it
off with a "They're just beads," comment."
"And if she doesn't wear them? You won't know if she does or doesn't unless you
stalk her."
"You think I'm an idiot, mate?" Thorfinn chuckled. "Quincey knew what had
happened the minute Granger put the bloody things in. She's giving me daily
reports on every move that little lion cub makes. She and the Potter kid are
apparently trying to get their hands on something called the Philosopher's
Stone."
"Bloody hell," Antonin sighed, shaking his head slowly though a cruel grin was
crawling across his face. "You mean to hijack her entire life, don't you?"
Thorfinn smirked widely.
                            ~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~
"Damn it, Entwhistle, you're not even trying to help!" Thorfinn snarled a week
later as he and his friends attempted to pull their senior prank to tick number
ninety-three off all of their lists.
"Fuck you, Rowle!" Entwhistle growled in return from the other side of the
statue they were all attempting to levitate into the middle of the teacher's
lounge. The biggest statue they'd located within the school – a wretchedly ugly
piece shaped like the terrible spawn between a troll and a Thestral. Something,
incidentally, which had already been dropped on Entwhislte's foot more than
once.
"All of you jam the arguing and hurry the fuck up before we get caught,"
Antonin snapped. "If we get expelled when I've only got three Merlin cursed
things left on my fucking list, I'm going to personally murder the whole lot of
you."
"Bite me, Antonin," Pucey snapped, having been put in a sour mood by also have
the heavy statue dropped on his foot.
Some shoddy healing spells later and they had been on the move again but the
bastard was pouting.
"I'll bloody well start with you, Pucey, you fucking pussy!" Antonin snarled in
retort.
Thorfinn laughed as he listened to his friends argue, levitating the statue
along the corridor. They'd had to enlist the assistance of a few first years,
namely the kid of Nott and the Malfoy brat, to play lookouts for them. They'd
decided on a three part prank. Move the enormous, hideous statue into the
teacher's lounge; rig up the Great Hall with a surprise for everyone at
breakfast tomorrow that would activate the minute Professor Flitwick – always
the last to the breakfast table – began eating his porridge; and enlisting the
assistance of the Bloody Baron and Peeves to stage a fake-murder scene at the
bottom of the moving staircases.
While his friends continued to argue with one another, all of them cranky with
this part of the prank, Thorfinn heard the sound of the kid of Nott arguing
with someone.
"Shut up, you mob of cunts," Thorfinn hissed. "Someone's coming."
"Oi! Damn it, Granger! Where do you think you're going? I just told you that
you can't go down this corridor. You're going to regret it. Peeves is down
there and he's got his hands on some fake-blood leftover from Halloween,
combined it with all that candy from Halloween that what's-her-name tried to
give to Rowle and he's covering people in both. You've heard the tar and
feather bit, right? Same concept."
"Theodore Nott, do you actually believe me thick enough to buy that?" the bossy
voice of none other than Thorfinn's little lioness could be heard in response.
"You're covering for someone, which means you're trying to keep me from going
down here where I'll likely find someone breaking the rules."
"What? You don't think I'm a good enough person to stop poor, unsuspecting
girls such as yourself from ending up covered in blood and lolly-wrappers?"
Theo argued in retort, his voice smooth and even.
The kid had potential to be a great liar one day.
"I might've believed you, Nott, if it weren't for the fact that Malfoy is also
trying to stop people going down here. I think we both know that the potential
for seeing me come to some misfortune is not something he would attempt to
interfere with. Meaning there's rule-breaking going on down here and you're the
lookouts," Granger argued. Thorfinn smirked over how quick the girl was, even
if it was an inconvenience right then.
"Damn it, Thor," Antonin growled in a whisper as they tried to hurry and move
the statues faster. "That fucking lion cub is going to be a problem."
"Granger, I can't let you down there," Nott was saying and Thorfinn heard the
sounds of footsteps as the girl obviously tried to step around the kid.
"What you can't do, is stop me, Theodore," Granger argued with the boy. "Get
out of my way, or I'll hex you."
"Threats? From the likes of you? What happened to being a rule-follower,
Granger?" Nott attempted to taunt her. "Forget about the 'no duelling it he
corridors' rule, did you?"
"That kid's good, but he's got no chance of stopping her," Antonin hissed.
"OI!" Theo shouted, hissing in pain over an apparent hex. Thorfinn was betting
it the boy had just been hit with a Stinging Jinx. "Damn it, Granger! That's my
bloody wand hand!"
"That'll teach you not to argue with me then, won't it?" the witch's voice
could be heard in retort, sounding rather smug.
Her footsteps followed and Thorfinn could hear Theo trying to stop her again,
racing after her.
"Fuck, if that one catches us at this, we're done for," Antonin growled.
"Fucking meddlesome brat! Thor, get your witch before she gets us all
expelled."
"I'm on it," Thorfinn sighed, lowering his wand and watching his friends
struggle with the statue for a moment as he strode away to intercept the witch.
He kept his wand drawn, ready to hex the little brat if he had to.
"Granger! Don't go down there, I mean it," Theo was arguing with the witch,
still trying to stop her from catching the senior boys in the act of rule-
breaking. Thorfinn had to admire his spirit and his loyalty to the cause.
"You're only trying to stop me because you're protecting someone, Nott,"
Granger argued hotly with the boy and Thorfinn rounded the corner in time to
see the little witch trying to shove the kid out of her way. He was making a
valiant effort of stopping her, despite the way he kept one arm tucked into his
side gingerly, protecting the swollen limb where she'd hit him with a Stinging
Jinx.
Thorfinn didn't blame the kid. The witch had a mean hex on her. He'd been on
the receiving end of it more than once throughout the school year. He knew all
too well how it stung like a thousand hornets.
"I should've known you be involved if there's rule-breaking going on," Granger
declared when she spotted him striding down the corridor.
"Thor, I'm sorry," Theo spun, beginning to apologise when he saw Thorfinn
coming. "I tried to stop her."
"I know, kid," Thorfinn grinned at the first year boy. "Heard you trying to
deter this one from around the corner. Don't sweat it. This little lioness is
as stubborn as a mule."
He flicked his wand at Granger, who immediately looked scandalized while Nott
snorted in amusement.
"Don't try to deny it, Kitten," Thorfinn told the girl, turning his attention
to her. "You know you're a spitfire. Now, be a good little lion cub and run on
up to your tower via a different route."
"Or you'll what, Finn?" she challenged, narrowing her eyes on him daringly.
"Or I'll hex you, Baby-girl," Thorfinn warned in return, narrowing his eyes
right back at her.
"You're breaking the rules again, aren't you?" she demanded, crossing her arms
over her chest. Thorfinn noticed she was still clutching her wand like she
might use it on him or Nott.
"Don't reckon you want me to answer that, Kitten," Thorfinn smirked, winking at
her. "Else you'll be implicated in our misdeeds, too."
"Can't be sex in the corridors again," she rolled her eyes. "You've actually
got your trousers on this time. Colour me shocked. And you've got first years
on the lookout to warn people away. Meaning you're doing something big and
likely extremely against school rules. You know I'm going to report you, don't
you?"
Theodore Nott was looking at Granger like she'd lost her brilliant mind,
clearly shocked and beyond horrified at the idea of her back-talking him.
Thorfinn smirked. The rest of the firsties were all scared of him, but not his
little spitfire of a witch.
"You know I'm going to make my revenge on you ten times worse than whatever you
even potentially bring down on me, don't you, little lioness?" Thorfinn
retorted.
Thorfinn watched the way she began striding up the corridor towards him,
planting her feet firmly, defying his suggestion of running along to Gryffindor
Tower via another route.
"Granger," he warned, his voice lowering dangerously.
"Did you know that when you try to look intimidating like that, you just look
kind of constipated?" she sneered at him, stalking up the corridor and intent
on investigating their rule-breaking, especially when he heard what sounded
like Antonin cursing foully about something as though he were in pain and
furious.
Thorfinn glanced over his shoulder when he heard a bang.
"What was that?" Granger demanded. "What are you up to?"
Thorfinn turned back towards the little witch, letting her come a little closer
before he lifted his wand and fired a non-verbal Stunning Spell at her. Her
eyes went wide in surprise at the idea of being attacked magically by him. She
toppled backwards towards the floor and Thorfinn stepped forwards to catch her
before she could hit it and crack her head open. Looping an arm around her
back, he caught the suddenly limp and unconscious witch, bending to toss her
slight frame over his shoulder before straightening once more. She weighed next
to nothing, so it was difficult to tote he like a sack of potatoes.
"Bloody hell," Theo muttered, looking up at him and then at Granger's
unconscious form. "I knew she was barmy, but Salazar, she's completely batty,
talking to you like that Thor."
Thorfinn smirked at the kid looking up at him with something akin to awe – or
as close to awe as a snarky, pompous pureblood kid could get while still
maintaining his dignity.
"She's a bloody nightmare, mate," Thorfinn grinned. "Keep watch a bit longer,
yeah? Pretty sure those bastards just dropped the statue on Dolohov's foot."
"Shite," Theo said, paling. "I'm staying down here out of his way."
"Probably smart," Thorfinn laughed. He turned away and strode back up the
corridor, he was even to the corner before Nott called out again.
"Hey, Thor?" Theo asked quietly.
Thorfinn glanced at the kid over the shoulder that wasn't toting a tiny witch.
He raised one eyebrow.
"Did she really catch you shagging?" Theo asked. "Like, saw you naked?"
"Three times now," Thorfinn smirked. "Nearly got me expelled the first time,
too. And she'll pay for that."
Theo's eyes darted to the prone form of the witch dangling over Thorfinn's
shoulder again before he nodded his understanding. He adjusted his swollen arm
slightly and turned his attention back to guarding the corridor and keeping
others away from catching them in their mischief.
"For fuck's sake, Bulstrode, when I'm through with you, your grandchildren will
be thicker than fucking stumps!" Antonin was growling when Thorfinn rounded the
corner with the witch over his shoulder to find Antonin standing over a rather
intimidated looking Cygnus Bulstrode.
He was favouring one foot and his nose was bleeding as he snarled threats at
the other wizard.
"Got your knickers all in a twist there, Toshka?" Thorfinn needled his best
friend and he watched the way the rest of their motley crew looked relieved to
see him returning.
Thorfinn knew they were all afraid of Antonin. The bastard was a right cold
fucker when he wanted to be and would hex the bollocks off a man, slow and
painful, if he lost his temper. He had a nasty habit of inventing curses too,
most of which no one knew the counter curses for.
"You better be carrying that little bitch because you need me to help you hide
the fucking body, Thor, or so help me I'm cursing the pair of you," Antonin
spun on him.
"Dropped the fucker on your foot, didn't you?" Thorfinn smirked, ignoring his
threats and the way the dark-haired wizard narrowed his eyes hatefully on
Granger.
"Bulstrode tripped over his own fucking feet, shoved the cunt forwards into me,
crushed me against the wall and then dropped the ugly fucking bastard of a
statue on my damn foot when he lost concentration and broke the spell. Fucking
disgrace of a wizard, can't even maintain a simple fucking hover charm! How the
fuck are you even still breathing, Bulstrode."
"Oi, Toshka?" Thorfinn asked, drawing the irate wizard's attention once more
when he looked like he was about to hit their friend with his signature purple-
fire curse that burned a person to a withered, charred husk from the inside
out.
"Fuck you, Thor, I'm getting real sick of this bullshit with you not letting me
curse people who fucking deserve it," Antonin immediately hissed at him, his
eyes narrowing furiously.
"Blow me, mate," Thorfinn told his best friend. "And jam your fucking wand up
your arse while you're at it. If you don't point it somewhere else, I'll do it
for you right after I lodge my foot so far up there that you choke of the
fucking dragonhide of my shoe."
He narrowed his eyes on his friend, one hand resting on Granger's lower back to
balance her while he got right up in his friend's face and glared down at the
irate Russian bastard. Antonin proceeded to curse in his mother-tongue foully,
muttering threats, cuss words and other foul things that would've offended just
about anyone who wasn't Thorfinn if they knew what the phrases meant.
"Why the fuck did you bring that cunt of a lion cub down here?" he demanded,
glaring at the witch hatefully again. "Is she knocked out."
"I stunned her. She hexed Nott and was coming this way to catch the lot of us."
"Oh yes, makes perfect sense to bring her in here then," Antonin growled,
cursing again in Russian. "Why don't you just wake her up and tell her what
we're doing so she can give a full account to fucking Dumbledore."
"You got a better idea of what to do with her that means she won't know and
can't rat us out?" Thorfinn demanded.
"Oh, you bet your arse I bloody do," Antonin hissed darkly, lifting his wand
once more with murder glittering in his eyes. The rage inside of him thanks to
how long the prank was taking, the pain he was in and the frustration he felt
at dealing with the other morons of their year mated with his hatred from
Granger. Thorfinn just knew the red-haze was covering his friend's gaze and
likely to make him do stupid things.
Thorfinn punched him.
He didn't even think about it before his fist - still gripping his wand - was
suddenly in motion and colliding with his best friend's cheekbone with a dull
thud. Antonin groaned and staggered sideways, clutching at his head and closing
his eyes against the pain. He blinked stupidly a few times, trying to right
himself and trying to get his bearings. Thorfinn wold bet his ears were
ringing.
"So it's like that, then?" Antonin asked when he'd shaken the fuzziness away,
his cold brown eyes settling on Thorfinn while he still clutched his head.
"It's like I'm not letting you go to fucking prison over a mudblood kid, you
tosspot!" Thorfinn retorted, seeing the betrayal glittering in Antonin's eyes
over the idea of him defending Granger. Again. He subtly shook his hand out,
his knuckles aching as he suspected he'd just cracked Antonin's cheekbone and
two of his own knuckles with that punch.
"One day, mate," Antonin said quietly, lowering his voice and speaking coldly,
"You're not going to be able to protect that little cunt from me. And I'm going
to relish the things I do to her."
Thorfinn narrowed his eyes in return. That tone in Antonin's voice, that cold
expression on his face, they were all indications that he was at his most
dangerous. Like Thorfinn, Antonin had a temper. He was slower to anger and more
prone to cruel words and deeds than Thorfinn, but he was also quick to let that
anger go again when it was over stupid things. Thorfinn was the fiery one. He'd
lose his temper, unleash his rage and revel in the destruction that followed.
Dolohov was crueller about it. He'd snarl about things, pull a mean prank or
arrange some misfortune to befall someone who annoyed him, but he had more
control over his rage. And that made him more dangerous. Because when he
reached for that control he got quiet and deadly. Like a snake in the wood-
shed, he'd lay coiled and quiet, unnoticed until the precise moment to strike
and deliver his deadly poison.
"Until I'm done with her, you'll keep you wand and your hands off her or I'll
skin you, Dolohov," Thorfinn told him, drawing himself up to his full height
and fixing his friend a cold stare in return. He had a number of plans in place
to ruin the little muggleborn's life and they would not be cut short by an
irate Antonin Dolohov. They sure as hell wouldn't be interfered with just
because the bastard was in a foul mood.
Dolohov curled his lip in retort and began cursing foully in Russian once more
while Thorfinn glared at him before healing his broken foot, his fractured and
rapidly swelling cheekbone and the nosebleed his friend was dealing with. The
bastard didn't have the decency right then to say thank you. He fixed his own
knuckles with a faint hiss of annoyance, still glaring at the cursing Russian.
"You fuckers need healing too?" Thorfinn asked, turning to Pucey, Bulstrode,
Entwhistle, Flint and Selwyn when Dolohov turned away from him and walked
around the far side of the statue once more, still muttering darkly under his
breath in his mother-tongue.
"Yeah," Selwyn sighed out a breath. "Pretty sure I cracked a few toes."
Thorfinn rolled his eyes at the lot of the, flicking his wand at each of them
and listening to them all groan as he healed their broken bones. Everything
else could be dealt with later.
"Do I want to know why you and Antonin are arguing about a firstie?" Pucey
muttered to him when they were all once more levitating the statue along the
corridor and towards the Teacher's Lounge.
"The little brat's got a smart mouth and too much bravado for her own good,"
Thorfinn muttered back, adjusting Granger's slight frame over his shoulder.
"She got mouthy with him and he's got his wand in a knot over it. She's the one
who nearly got me expelled when I got caught in the library, too."
"Then why are you carting her around and letting him go easy on her?" Pucey
wanted to know, looking confused.
"I'm ruining her life," Thorfinn smiled. "Revenge is a dish best served cold,
my friend. And it will be stone cold when I rip her apart once she's all grown
up."
"Details?" Pucey asked, his eyes lighting up at the idea of a well-thought-out
long-con on the little witch.
"Win her trust. Dig into her life and slowly, quietly overtake all of it.
Follow her every movement. She put these in my hair a few weeks ago," Thorfinn
reached for the beads the little witch had plaited into his blonde mane.
"Bloody hell!" Pucey exclaimed when he spotted the small gold trinkets amid the
tawny locks. "She initiated an arrangement?"
"She has no clue what they represent," Thorfinn smirked. "Mudblood, see?"
"You're going to ruin her through that?" Pucey asked, raising one eyebrow.
"By the time she's old enough to consider forming an engagement with anyone
else, she'll be so thoroughly tied to me that it will ruin her life
completely."
"You're a cold bastard sometimes, Thor. You know that, right?" Pucey laughed.
Thorfinn smirked widely at his words, jostling the still unconscious witch upon
his shoulder and planning how best to deal with her just as soon as he was done
with the boys.
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