The Gloriana Set

Wrapsodi

Hello readers!

This chapter contains this story's very first ...

WARNING: The following refers to autoerotic asphyxiation. I know this isn't really that kind of story, and I can't begin to explain the context—just be aware that it's there.

Happy Holidays,

ThebeMoon

Hermione had every intention of breaking up with Theo Sunday morning, when her courage was high and she was fresh off a marathon LOOP session. She couldn't keep bleating, "I'm with Theo," yet still allow Malfoy to flirt with her, touch her hair, hold her close when they danced, to kiss her on that broomstick. That needed to end—not the flirting, touching and kissing from Malfoy, she was quite on board with that—but the situation with Theo. The black-haired Slytherin had been nothing but considerate, kind and agreeable (see LOOP, page 43, chart D). He didn't deserve to be left twisting in the wind. Hermione didn't know what would happen with Malfoy, maybe it would work and maybe it wouldn't. Maybe she'd end up with no handsome Slytherin at all, in which case she might actually have a decent chance of passing her NEWTs.

Either way, Hermione wrote in the pink light of dawn, the current state of affairs (pun intended) could not be allowed to continue. It wasn't fair to Theo or herself, or even Malfoy. Malfoy might look all smug and confident now, but eventually he'd crack, and Theo would end up as just a smoking burn mark on the Great Hall floor.

Hermione flipped back to page 43, reviewing Theo's pros-cons chart, but it was a sad waste of time. A whole other Theo lay beneath that suave surface, she just knew it. She wondered if she would like that real Theo better or worse. Well, it would be another witch's job to crack that code. Theo would remain a beautiful, bound book, while Malfoy's burned and tattered pages lay open to her touch.

So she was ready to act, but Theo wasn't waiting in the corridor when she left the portrait hole, and he wasn't at breakfast either. Malfoy was there of course, but besides a subtle wink and a positively indecent display of spooning his oatmeal, he kept to himself. Hermione headed to the library after breakfast, hoping Theo would seek her out there, but another Slytherin turned up instead.

"Thought I would find you here," Pansy said, perching herself on the table. She brought no books, of course, just a tiny seafoam green purse that matched her sweater dress. Her lips were painted a vivid pink.

"You can't be here to study," Hermione said, looking her over.

Pansy sneered. "Certainly not. I have a life."

"Just because I study doesn't mean I don't have a life," Hermione remarked. "If anything, I have too much life. What I need is a little less life."

"I'm inclined to agree with you," Pansy said, crossing legs encased in stiletto boots. "You're rubbish with men, Granger."

Hermione said nothing. She didn't need Pansy Parkinson to tell her that.

"Draco might be whistling around the Slytherin dungeons these days," Pansy continued, "but now Theo is brooding. He spent last night drinking in a corner of the common room, looking dark and dangerous, attracting every brainless twit in the House."

Hermione felt even more wretched—she knew Theo resented his exclusion from the Slug Club, and now she'd left him drinking alone while she swanned around with Vasile and Malfoy. Mean.

"But I'm not here to talk about Theo." Pansy leaned forward, and Hermione caught a strong wave of flowery perfume. "I want to know your plan."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "I plan to study."