Selfish
By Cherished Dreams
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
This story is especially dedicated to:
People who have found love!
Running around the corner and finding a small shadow to immerse herself into, Hermione Granger hid herself from anyone lurking around the Hogwarts castle at night. Feeling frustrated, she had quickly ducked out of her room. Deep in her mind, she knew that she had a constant fear that she would wake someone up from her uncontrollable sobs and find out her secret. Even though she knew too well, that it was impossible. Being Head girl had advantages and that was her own room in the Heads' tower.
Harry, Ron and Hermione had been friends for almost seven whole years, and seven surprising years, since Harry and Hermione have found out about the wizarding world.
Hermione carefully pointed her wand towards her lips and whispered slowly, yet clearly, "Silencio". The sobs that she released were no more than puffs of white mist in the crisp winter, night air.
Hermione was finally tired of acting all fine and sympathetic. She was sick of patting on Harry or Ron's back whenever they cried. Hermione was their wall. They leaned on her for support. But she desperately wanted to cry, wanted them to understand that she was hurting too, that she needed someone to support her.
Harry had saved the wizarding world and destroyed Voldemort. Hermione saw him send that green light towards the Dark Lord. She saw him collapse out of sheer exhaustion. She was there, fighting the battle right next to him and Ron. Hermione had pointed her wand at so many of the Death Eaters and even had the unfortunate experience of meeting the person who killed her own parents.
Lucius Malfoy.
Hermione had cried many nights after receiving news of her parent's deaths. She cringed at the thought of making him suffer. Like he had done to her parents and her unborn little brother before they died. She faced him in battle, they fought viciously, and soon Hermione de-wanded him. He was without a wand; in front of her waiting to die by the thing he loathed his whole life. But she could not bear the thought of killing someone. A person. A very-cruel-and-undeserving-of-a-life person, but a person none-the-less.
Hermione had hit him with every curse and hex she knew. She sent him the unforgivable Crucio. And unlike herself, she cried all the way through the process. But Hermione didn't kill him. She had let one of the other aurors take him for the Dementor's Kiss. He didn't deserve less. But that didn't change the way that she felt. What she was feeling inside. Most Death Eaters were killed in the battle and the rest captured and given the Dementor's kiss. Harry was unconscious for a month, with many cuts and bruises. Ron had broken several ribs, and a broken arm. But Madame Pomphrey had healed them and many other wizards and witches in their year.
Harry was still recovering from the ordeal, after six months of blaming himself for the innocent lives taken. Ron had lost his brothers Percy and Bill in the battle and was healing just as slowly with Harry.
Tears fell more and more yet. Hermione trembled and calmed herself, stabilizing her breathing. She sniffed and found the night sky slowly lightening. She tiptoed back into her warm room, and changed quickly after a warm bath. She was slipping her day's books into her book bag when she heard water running in the bathroom. She shrugged her shoulders, thinking 'He's up early' and gave Aries, the statue guarding their dorms, a small smile, before walking to the Great Hall.
Draco Malfoy stood in front of the bathroom mirror looking at the person staring back at him. A person he had grown up with, someone who had seen suffering, and evil. He lifted his hand and traced the scars over his bare chest. His chest constricted and tensed. Tears welled up in his stormy grey eyes but he refused to let them fall. After all, Malfoys didn't cry. Bottled up anger flared within him, and he slammed the fogged up glass in front of him with a clenched fist. Draco growled quietly with fury, thinking of all the people he let them kill.
But most of all. Let them do what they did to his mother. The cruel monster that he had once called 'Father,'had her under the Imperio spell, before telling her to have a nice deep sleep. Which being under the spell, she did. Only after the war was Draco able to admit her to St Mungo's. Her usually creamy complexion was pale and her figure was frail. A whole month of sleep, with no nutrition whatsoever had been so unkind to her. He remembered telling the healers to give her the best of care, no matter what the expense.
Draco sighed deeply and looked back at the mirror. It was cracked and only when he looked down at his shaking hand did he realize that his fist was bleeding. He took his wand in his other hand and magiked the blood away and the mirror to be fixed. Looking at the still bleeding fist, he magiked bandages to stop the flow. Draco packed his books and bits of parchment and walked out of the dorm quarters. Aries shot the Head Boy a concerned look as he left the dorm quarters, but the silver haired boy paid him no attention. He stalked all the way to the Prefects' common room. It was a dark morning for December. It looked like rain. Stormy and dark.
Just like his mood.
'Granger would be at the prefects' common room already, waiting patiently.' He thought, knowing of course, because even at one of his earliest, she always seemed to find a way to beat him there, for Friday morning prefect meetings. And as he had predicted she was there on one of the chairs at the head of the meeting table.
They were early as usual than the others and by the parchments that she had out that he could see, she wanted to talk about the celebrations in about two months. Striding in as usual, robes billowing behind him, Draco's shoes clicked on the stone below him and her head snapped up from what she was writing. He gave her a curt nod and a quiet "morning," and she returned it with a small smile. Sitting down in the seat next to her, he sighed deeply, with closed eyes. He massaged his temples with his index fingers. When Draco opened his eyes again to get down to work, he found Hermione watching him with those brown eyes of hers. The same ones that haunted him in his dreams.
Narrowing his own grey eyes, Draco snapped, "What are you looking at?"
Hermione averted her eyes away from his and retaliated, "Nothing ferret boy, just..," she paused and bit her bottom lip, "..a bit worried about you."
An eyebrow rose.
She sighed in defeat and pointed, "You have bags under your eyes again."
His hand unconsciously flew up to his pointed face and found them. Draco sneered at her. 'Meddling girl.'
"And what?" he spat, "Like you don't have any?"
Fire burned in her eyes and she opened her mouth to snap back, but she stopped herself when a prefect stormed in mumbling about waking up too damn early for meetings. She greeted the boy as he slunk back into his chair feeling somewhat guilty.
The morning meeting went smoothly. Hermione said her goodbyes as the prefects left and then plopped back on her chair. She conjured an apple and ate it as breakfast, while she looked at some of the plans for the celebration. She was re-reading the final plans, when she finally noticed that Draco was still in the room. She watched him sitting down by the window reading a book.
His eyes looked up and their eyes locked for a moment, before she jumped and averted her eyes hearing the bell ringing for their first class. Hermione swallowed nervously and fumbled with her bits of parchment and quills. She stood to leave holding the parchments of the plans, when Draco stopped on his way out of the portrait and said, "Thanks for your concern, Granger." The portrait slammed behind him and she stared at the place where he had been standing just moments ago, rooted to the spot, shocked.
Hermione couldn't concentrate in her morning classes at all. What Malfoy had said to her had been terribly shocking. By lunch time even Harry and Ron had noticed her strange behaviour. They sent her concerned looks all through the rest of the classes she had with them and she smiled back at every single one of them, reassuringly. They dismissed it but after eating dinner in the Great Hall, they ventured to the Gryffindor common room, where there were only a few students. They took our seats on the couch, looking at the fire before Harry broke the blanket of silence over them.
" 'mione you okay?" Harry asked looking at her, concern written all over his face.
"Yeah, I mean you haven't been yourself since this morning in Potions." Harry winced at the memory as Ron started to retell the story.
"Snape had said to—," he stopped abruptly and shook his head. "Never mind."
His face turned sympathetic. "Just good luck on that 3 foot long parchment essay, on the dangers of incorrectly brewing the Nubeculae potion and its effects on the environment if it should happen to explode. " And then he grinned.
Hermione shot him a look and the grin on his face was wiped away. Harry nudged him with his elbow in his ribs and Ron muttered a soft "sorry." She nodded and regarded him with a smile.
The subject was dropped and the boys started to talk about Quidditch. Hermione tuned out and her thoughts soon pondered about Malfoy saying thank you. It was awkward and weird. Her mind analyzed a reason for it, but none of them were realistic enough to apply to the walking enigma. It bugged her with no end; frustrated, she marched out of the Gryffindor common room, Harry and Ron staring at her back, and towards the Heads' towers.
Draco was on the chair, furthest away from the fire and closest to the window, with a book in his hands. Seeing him like that, she lost her hold on her frustration and it flew out the window.
He looked.. vulnerable.
Hermione stayed rooted to that spot for a few moments, before he frowned and looked up. He raised an elegant eyebrow, when his eyes landed on her.
"Granger are you going to close the hole or not? You're letting a draft in." He pointed to the hole. She nodded dumbly and regained her senses before shutting the wall behind Aries close. She turned to see him put the book aside and she felt blood rush up to my cheeks as she remembered why she had stormed up there in the first place.
"W-why did you..?" she stammered. 'Damn! Why do those grey eyes affect me so!' she thought, feeling even more blood rush to her cheeks (if it were possible).
He regarded her nonchalantly. "Why did I… change?"
For lack of a better word at that moment, she nodded.
He stared at the childish looking seventeen year old girl, looking down at the floor. Never had he witnessed such an act from her. She suddenly looked up, and their eyes locked twice that day. Standing, Draco averted his eyes and ran a hand through his hair pensively. He felt her eyes on him, through the act and decided that it wouldn't hurt him to let the head girl know.
"I didn't change."
An eyebrow rose.
"You can doubt me all you like. But I didn't change." He paused and looked back at her.
"This is the real me. That was a fascia." She frowned.
He sighed and ran his hand through his silver hair again. "Didn't think you'd believe me." And with that he started up the stairs to his room.
"There are some things that I will and won't believe in." she said quietly, as he reached the top of the stairs. Her words effectively stopped her.
"I never said I didn't believe you. What you said seemed unbelievable. But I'm willing to hear the rest of the story behind it."
Eyes widened slightly. Just slightly.
Draco slowly turned around and looked down at her from where he was standing. Hermione's eyes showed him that she was determined. He shed her a small smile, which she happily returned, as he walked down the stairs. He sat back down on the by-the-window chair and watched the fire dance merrily.
"I was taught manners, despite the contrary belief. But I was taught to keep them for people who mattered."
Hermione sat down on the couch and looked at him, like a small child listening to a bedtime story.
"I grew up with my father as an idol. I grew up in a cold household; the house elves keeping me company most of my life. Mother showed me as much love as she could, whenever we were out of sight from father. She was always away with father. As the wife of an important man, she was obliged to go with him to meet important people. I was tutored at home by the best, until I arrived here. I never had friends. The closest thing I've had to a friend was Pansy. She looked out for me."
Hermione looked down to the floor out of respect. Pansy Parkinson had died back in their sixth year before the battle field was even set. She faintly remembered how Malfoy had been that week; slightly uncoordinated, always unfocused. Then after a month, and a slight bruise on his jaw, he was back to normal.
"Father taught me how to act in public and how to behave in front of those who mattered. Told me to please him, and the Dark Lord. That we would be rewarded with great power. I was young and wanted only to please him, to have him to acknowledge me as his son.."
He paused and closed his eyes. She looked at him concerned for the first time for her long time enemy. "You don't have to tell me, if you don't want to." He opened his eyes and saw the concern in her eyes. He shook his head and continued.
"My mother, as you might or might not know, is currently in St. Mungo's, under the Imperio spell. My father… ordered her into a deep sleep, to stop from interfering with my upbringing just before the war. It's the first time I've ever seen her under it. The other.. others, being in meetings with them, seeing them do the things they did to innocent human beings… children…" He shuddered involuntarily at the thought.
Hermione lowered her eyes. She could tell there was more but stopped herself from asking more of him. It seemed to be the end of his story telling. He seemed to be bearing more than he had for a long time, to her. 'Why?' was her initial thought. But now that she had heard more of his story, she somewhat felt sympathetic towards him. She blinked back the liquid building up in her eyes.
She heard a rustle of robes and looked up. Draco was looking down at her on the sofa, with a look of perplexity on his face. Hermione looked up at him surprised. "Granger, I don't need your pity."
He stood up and went to his room. After hearing his portrait door slam, she let the uncomfortable tears, which were pricking her eyes, to flow unhindered. Soon she let out earth-shattering sobs, thinking about the life he led. The years they had made even more unsettling for him. The horrible memories of what had happened to innocent people. The thought of never really being acknowledged as a son.
Hermione didn't hear a soft click of a portrait or footsteps stopping beside her. But she felt a warm hand on her shoulder, causing her to look up in surprise, tears still flowing down her face. Even more confused grey eyes locked onto hers. "Why are you crying?" She looked down, and Draco knelt beside the couch, presenting her with a clean handkerchief, a gold embroidered 'D.M.' on it. She accepted it, wiping her tears away.
"I'm crying… I'm crying for you."
With that, an unexpected thing happened; he had swept her into his arms and into an embrace.
The shock of having Draco Malfoy's arms around her stopped the tears from flowing. She could just faintly hear his heart beat beneath his thick robes. After a moment of silence he pulled away and she frowned slightly missing the warmth. He pulled out a clean handkerchief and wiped her cheeks dry. Putting his handkerchief away, he looked at her with an emotion she'd never seen on his face, one that confused her.
"The only person that ever cried for me was m mother. Seeing you cry over a little explanation of my life, my past.. is overwhelming. You reminded me of my mother, and how I never wanted to hear or see her cry. " he said quietly.
He cared for his mother a lot, she could tell. She could also tell there were more to him, than what she saw, what he'd told her. But she would wait until he told her.
He stood up and walked her p to her room. After leaving her to her thoughts, he retreated to his room and after shutting the portrait behind him, he slumped down, his back on the wood of the portrait. She, Hermione Granger, his arch-nemesis of almost seven years had cried for him. He was beyond surprised. He felt torn between happiness and regret. He was somewhat happy of her reaction, yet at the same time he felt guilty for making her cry.
He was confused at first , but just after closing his eyes for sleep, he had to admit that something that felt nice was happening to him. And he liked it.
Days of sneaking out of his room at night followed afterwards,. He felt as if she would find out about him. The him that he left out when he had told her about his past. He felt a new emotion within him and he was confused by what it could mean or what it could cause, so he carefully avoided her whenever it wasn't required. But he soon found a yearning feeling arise in him.
Tonight, after slinking past Mrs. Norris, he made his way to the astronomy tower. With Filch's cat always on the prowl, he had to change his night time sanctuary regularly. Nearly reaching the top of the stairs, he unexpectedly stopped a mass of brown hair illuminated by the night's light. He was surprise, never having to have seen her around the castle at night before. He stopped recognizing it and unsure of what to do, he watched her silently from the top of the stair case.
She was sitting down in front of the large window hugging her knees to her chest. He had to admit, that through the six and so years at Hogwarts, that he had known her, he had never seen her at such peace. His stomach tightened. He sighed particularly loud, making her head spin around wildly. He she saw that it was only him; she turned back around to stare out of the window again.
He sat down a considerable amount of space away from her. He could feel she wanted to say something but was hesitating, probably weighting the consequences in her mind. He stayed with her until his patience grew thin and he decided to leave when she finally spoke. Her family had been slaughtered. Killed by the infamous Lucius Malfoy. He knew. She dwelled on her memories and her most cherished moments with her parents. Her voice was quiet and soft.
Hermione cried silently next to him. Snatches of happy moments with her parents flashed in her mind. Snatches of scenarios she had thought up of, of what might've happened with their encounter with Lucius Malfoy, screamed viciously in her mind. Cruelly played in slow motion. Her breaths were becoming rugged and she felt a hand nudge her elbow. Looking at her left, she found him handing her the same clean handkerchief h had offered her a couple of days back. She graciously accepted it.
The curtain of stars and darkness grew lighter, when he stood up. His footsteps stopped at the top of the stairs, when he asked gently: "Your favorite flower is the daisy isn't it?" She was surprised, how had he known? She turned around to face him, but he was gone.
Secrets, were kept by each of the residents of the Head's Tower. They were quiet, and went on with their lives outside the privacy of their tower, following their long practiced routines. Only at night did the two Heads converse with each other as friends. They talked about little nothings; school, duties, homework, and very little of their past. Neither mentioned anything more that might bring about the other to develop an inkling that they held deep secrets. Reputations and friends were on the line.
Hermione grew anxious at what he might've meant about daisies and how he knew about them. After plucking up enough courage, she asked him about it, to which he responded to with a slightly pale and slightly surprised look on his face. He had smiled and told her that it was his secret. She had pouted cutely, as he had put it, and pinched her cheek affectionately.
Their strictly head's-business sonly relationship turned into friendship and to the stage that each was the other's confidante. Harry and Ron weren't suspecting anything. Blaise and Millicent were nowhere near uncovering their friendship. They played their roles outside the Head's Tower perfectly.
One cool day in January, Draco was called to the Head Master's office from their Monday morning Arithmancy class, urgently and an hour later he was on his way home. Hermione had watched him quickly shoving his things into his book bag, unlike his usual neat packing, and rushed out the door with an urgent yet panicky look on his face. The whole class watched him quickly storm out. She frowned but turned her attention back to their professor.
By dinner time, she began to worry, not having even seen him around the halls. Harry and Ron noticed this, but she quickly reassured them that it was just nerves from homework. There was a screech and suddenly an eagle flew from one of the large windows, and into the Hall. Everyone's eyes were on it, when it landed perfectly in front of Hermione's plate.
The eagle looked at her patiently waiting to have it delivery removed from its leg. Harry and Ron looked at it suspiciously, but Hermione had already put down her knife and fork, to untie the parchment from the eagle's leg. It stood there on the table and waited. Noticing this, she sighed. "I suppose your master wanted a reply." It cocked its head slightly. Sighing for the second time, trying to distract herself from the stares the eagle was attracting, she stood, shouldered her book bag, and her out her arm. The eagle jumped on it, its talons, just slightly applying pressure, so that it could hold on, without hurting her.
With that, she walked out of the of the Great Hall, Harry and Ron's eyes on her. She headed to the Head's tower and when she finally sat down on the sofa, a fire blazing in front of her, she let out a breath that she hadn't known she was holding. The eagle jumped onto the coffee table in front of her, while she untied and unrolled the parchment. It was from Draco. Oddly enough it was insulting in every way possible before the post script, he had included.
It said: 'P.S. Trans p114 favflow'
She smiled instantly after reading it. 'How clever.' She thought. She pulled her transfiguration text book out and turned to page one-hundred, fourteen. 'Hidden Objects.' "By using the Mutati spell a witch or wizard is able to transfigure a precious object simple by attaching a password. Therefore, the spell is turned into. Mutati ."
She grinned again and tapped the parchment. "Mutati Daisies" It flourished and soon, laying there in front of her was an emerald colored piece of parchment with silver writing and the Malfoy family's coat of arms. The letter told her that he had talked to the Head Master. He had found out that his other had finally gained consciousness, but her condition was poor. Her body was pale and thin, obviously malnourished, and her mind was damaged by the strength of the spell. Dumbledore had allowed him to complete his work at home, provided that Hermione send them.
She read it quietly and then wrote on another parchment. Yes, she would send his work there, happy that his mother was conscious, the eagle's name was Orion? etc… She carefully ruffled the eagle's feathers unsure it would like it as an owl would, but it did and nipped her fingers affectionately.
"Orchideous!"
Hermione sent Orion with what looked like a howler a ribbon around it, for if anyone intercepted it. If it reached the recipient untouched, he would find a bunch of flowers and a letter from the Head Girl. She watched it fly out the window and wondered why a feeling of loneliness came over her and how much she was already starting to miss him.
Days came and went and Draco and Hermione kept in the strictest of contact, homework and long letters were sent, and thank-you's and long letters were received. She missed him. Missed his wit and his ability to keep things down to Earth. She missed his rare laughs, rare smiles and those rare pair of eyes of his. She missed talking to him for hours, as they worked together on their homework. She missed his scent, those gentle looks he sent her, and the way he would wake her up in the morning. So days before Valentine's Day, she gave into the new feeling within her.
She liked so much, and she secretly hoped he felt the same way too. In his letters, he would mock her about having to tell her something, when he came back and teased her by keeping her in suspense. Everyone knew that Hermione Granger was curious about things that were in front of her that she didn't understand or know. She was disappointed when nothing 'special' arrived for her in the mail on Valentine's Day.
The day after, a letter arrived for her as she was walking down the hall to her Ancient Runes class. She stopped in the middle of the hall; too excited too move out of the way of other bustling students, trying to get to their classes. She ripped the envelope apart, and absently stroked Orion's feathers as she read the letter. The first part of the contents made her face pale. It was about her mother. How Draco had found a small picture of a daisy in the dirt where a body laid. He hadn't known that it was her mother until Hermione had described her to him.
Tears started to fall. Her mother.
So that was his secret. At that moment, she didn't feel any anger towards him, but sadness because he had tried to keep it from her for so long. Had he felt guilty keeping it from her? Was he trying to protect her from whatever consequence this piece of knowledge would cause?
Reading along, her questions were answered. He had felt guilty. He called himself selfish for keeping something important in regards to her, from her. She stopped reading and noticed the halls empty. She would be late to class. At that point, it didn't matter to her.
There was more:
'I was tired of sacrificing what I wanted to suit my family's needs. I was tired of having to follow my father's orders like a common servant, just to please him and a Dark Lord who failed to give his followers the power he promised.
I'm tired of having to put up this cruel façade; this mask I've kept up for too long.
I'm tired of being alone.
Thank you Hermione. One day, I'll have enough audacity to tell you what I'm keeping you in suspense for. And I know that, that day will come soon.'
Hermione was surprised. She thought the secret about her other mother was his secret. What else could he be keeping from her that was important? She frowned. Impatience was winning her usually controlled self.
Footsteps echoed in the empty hallway and she spun around, dropping the letter. There in broad daylight was Draco Malfoy. He looked at her, his face void of emotion; yet his eyes were filled with an emotion she had seen that night he had told her of his past. Her bottom jaw quivered, as he walked towards her swiftly. Soon, without realizing how he'd done it, he was standing in front of her, tipping her head up slightly, gently wiping her tears dry.
"Y-your letter…" She stammered softly.
He smiled. "Today I will tell you."
She looked at him surprised, her mouth shaped in an O, eyes wide.
"Like that letter said I was tired of doing things I didn't want to. Things that I knew were bad. I'm tired of having to act cold and distant to everybody. I'm tired of being alone."
Draco held her then, and Hermione let him. He breathed in her scent, and sighed sounding some what content.
"If I have to appear to be selfish to others just to have you to myself and in my arms even for the tiniest moment, then I don't care. I don't care anymore. I'm not going to hide from you anymore."
Stormy gray met earthy brown.
"I love you."
Hermione's lower jaw trembled into a small smile.
And then he kissed her.
You can call me selfish
But all I want is your love
You can call me unperfect Selfishly I'm in love with you
But who's perfect?
I just gotta have you for myself
I would take good care of you
No matter what it is you're going through
I'll be there for you when you're in need
Believe in me
So what's wrong with being selfish?
- Selfish by 'N Sync
A/N: My late Valentine's Day ficcie.. Hope you all liked that.. :P The long awaited D/Hr ficcie I've been promising you guys. :P Not so good.. I was trying to get it out on Valentine's Day but decided to finish writing it first. LoL.. Hope all is in good order. Any-who.. Hope you'll had a great Valentine's Day!