Author: Logarith.Aveon
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Summary: On New Year's Eve, Hermione finds herself running away from everything she's ever known, but an unexpected hand up helps her face her fears.
A/N: It's been a while since I've written anything, really. This is actually a response to a challenge that I read somewhere, but I've lost track of it. Ah, well. It still spawned the following fic, which I do hope is worth your time.
Ugh. This is an odd sensation. I've actually been mildly afraid to write anything because of all the people who are on Author Alert for me. Well, all twelve of them. Heh. Ah, rejection, you are a callous cat.
This is a bit late for New Years, but whatcha gonna do.
Much thanks to news for parrots, for looking over this story and giving helpful advice. Thanks, sis!
Warning: T, for potential disturbing imagery and some language. I play it safe, kiddos.
.oOo.
A Cold Winter's Night
The snow fluttered slowly down to the earth from the night, settling briefly upon a small figure rushing through the cramped city streets, her long hair flying behind her. Streetlights occasionally lit the figure as it ran beneath them, the freshly fallen snow catching the light and making the formless black clothes all the more visible to any onlookers. However, all those who might have seen had retreated to the front of their fireplaces to ward off the late night chill, or to late parties to celebrate the coming of the New Year.
Stumbling slightly, the figure fell to their knees, resting a hand against a storefront as they took deep gasping breaths. The snow that was collecting on the back of the figure shook off with every tremble. After a moment, it became clear the figure was sobbing.
"Oh, God." whispered the figure, a single tear dripping off the end of her nose, "What have I done?"
"Odd to find you here, Granger."
Hermione looked up sharply, finding that she was staring up into the quiet face of Draco Malfoy, who was dressed in a cool black trench coat. The usual sneer that always had adorned his face when looking at her was gone; instead, a look of mild concern faced her, and a look of sympathy glimmered in his gray eyes, and the light from an overhead streetlight reflected off his still platinum-blond hair. Hurriedly, Hermione jumped to her feet, but the quick ascent made her briefly dizzy. She heard him step forward to help her stand, but she brushed away his hand. Ignoring his outstretched arm, she stumbled down the street, trying to put as much distance between the two of them as she could, but her legs failed her. Falling forward into a deep pile of snow, she closed her eyes, willing for the snow to take her away from all her pain.
After spending a couple of seconds in the snow, she felt herself being lifted up by the arms, and one arm being slung across someone's shoulders. Opening her eyes blearily, she saw that Draco was helping her along the road. She struggled feebly for a moment, but realized despondently that she was in no condition to fight, and sagged against him.
"What are you doing, Malfoy?" she asked, after he walked her past a closed toy store. The bright colors of the game pieces in the storefront stood out from the white fluff which covered the building, and illuminated their faces as they walked past.
"Oh, the usual." Malfoy replied, picking up the pace as Hermione gathered her strength slightly, "Wandering about Muggle villages at the dead of night, picking up old schoolmates from the side of the road."
"Bet you loved that, didn't you?" Hermione spat; though she was exhausted, she could still produce an admirable amount of venom for the former Slytherin, "Seeing me fallen in the dirt…" 'Not like I didn't deserve it.' Hermione thought to herself, and a painful stinging built up behind her eyes as tears threatened to fall. She didn't let them out; she deserved this pain. There should be no respite from the consequences of her actions.
"Not really, actually," he said.
Hermione looked up at Malfoy in surprise, confused at his response.
"I suppose in the past I would have enjoyed it," Malfoy continued, surprising Hermione with such an unabashedly honest response, "but now, not so much." He took a deep breath, walking her around the street corner. "A lot has changed, Hermione."
Hermione barely registered that he had used her first name, as her curiosity had been roused. Her damnable curiosity, which had led to the current state of events.
"What do you mean?"
"I'll tell you when we get there," Malfoy replied, steering her through a dimly lit alley. The thought briefly occurred to her that he could just kill her now; there were no witnesses. She knew nobody would look for her body; hell, she wouldn't look for herself after what she had done. Someone who had done something so unforgivable deserved no funeral.
However, to Hermione's vague disappointment she made it through the alley unscathed, and Draco guided her into a small café. Placing her in a plush chair and pulling off her lumpy coat, she watched as he walked up to the counter after hanging up her coat. He dealt with the cashier more effectively then she expected, properly handling the Muggle currency without difficulty. She dimly heard him ordering drinks, but the words passed over her without impression. Hermione had paralyzed herself with her recollections of earlier in the evening.
Staring at a picture on the wall, her eyes ran over the details; the house covered in snow, the happy family in the front... Hermione turned away, the grief overwhelming her. Her hands shook against the arms of the chair, and a need to escape engulfed her.
Run.
Where?
Anywhere but here.
She sat up to flee the building, but a warm hand on her shoulder pressed her against the seat. They had found her! She struggled against it for a moment, before her eyes focused on the figure and she realized it to be Malfoy. While this did little to soothe her fears, she did realize that she was still too weak to get away and collapsed back against the chair. The smell of hot chocolate emanated from a warm mug she noticed he had placed on the small table before her.
"Why are you doing this, Malfoy?" Hermione asked, picking up the warm mug before her and holding it between her hands to warm her chilled skin.
"Well, there are a couple of reasons," Malfoy replied, blowing on his drink to cool it. Taking a sip, he took a deep breath. "I don't suppose you want to hear them?" he said before taking another sip. He watched her while he drank, his cool grew eyes as calculating as ever.
"Softening me up for your Death Eater pals?" Hermione guessed, slowly taking a sip of her warm drink. She watched as he nearly choked into his mug.
"The Death Eaters?" Malfoy blurted out, surprise showing in his eyes, before it was quickly replaced with comprehension. "Oh, I see… so that's where you all thought I had gone."
"I think it's understandable, considering you ran with them ever since…" Even after five years, it still hurt to say. "…D-Dumbledore died."
"Hermione, I left the Death Eaters the day after that," Draco replied, a calm look on his face. He took a cool sip of his drink as Hermione gagged on hers, staring at him with wide eyes. "I don't suppose any of you wondered where I had gone. Although, why would you?"
Hermione sat up, incredulously. "You left the Death Eaters?" she exclaimed, staring at Malfoy, who nodded slowly. "But, but why aren't you…well…"
"Dead?" Malfoy guessed, staring at her with a sparkle in his silver eyes. "Well, even though you always put me to shame at school, I am a decent wizard. Using a few tricks my father taught me – and a few of my own creation – I've been remarkably well hidden for years. Also…" Draco paused for a moment to sigh briefly, and to take another long sip of his warming beverage. "I've been living as a Muggle for almost that whole time."
As expected, this bombshell again caused Hermione to gag on her drink, forcing her to put it down on the table so as not to spill all over herself. She stared at him disbelievingly, "You? Living as a Muggle?" Hermione gasped out. Draco nodded slightly in reply, a slight smile dancing on his face. "But why?"
"Who would ever look for me there?"
It was, Hermione grudgingly admitted to herself, a good idea. How could Draco Malfoy, a certified Muggle-hater, possibly be hiding among Muggles on their terms?
"I do admit it was hard to drop my... shall we say, bias, towards Muggles. But there have been a few things that have made it worth the effort."
"Oh? Such as?"
"Well, this café, for instance. They make excellent coffee. There's also this cute little redhead that reads such excellent poetry here…" Malfoy trailed off, his eyes clouding over with memory for a moment. Hermione took this chance to observe him. He looked remarkably different from how he had looked during their time together at Hogwarts; his hair was longer and free of hair gel, he was sporting a decent goatee that made him look several years older, and his expression was… different. The way he spoke, the way he acted; he seemed free of… malice.
"In any case, that's not important," Malfoy said, straightening up and pretending to ignore her blatant observation of him. He hadn't survived this long by not being observant. "The question now is what you're doing out alone on New Year's Eve." Looking intently at her, she squirmed uncomfortably under his gaze.
"I was… out for a walk," Hermione lied quickly, but she could see that Draco was not fooled. Raising an eyebrow, he stared at her for a brief moment. Taking a sip, he looked away, looking over the other patrons of the café. A cute pair of teenagers huddled together by the fire, watching the snowfall and simply being content in each other's presence. A small smile played over his face as he watched them, but he turned back to Hermione after a moment, but she was looking at him with burning curiosity in her eyes.
"Let it out, Hermione." Draco said, staring at her. He let it hang just long enough for her to realize what he was referring to, "I can see you want to ask a question. You're looking at me as though I'm handing out final exam study sheets."
"Oh, well…" said Hermione, obviously caught off guard. "Why did you leave the Death Eaters?" Hermione blurted out.
"Well…" Draco hesitated, as Hermione watched. A battle seemed to rage behind his eyes, and Hermione was sure he wouldn't tell her. Therefore, she was surprised when he began to explain, placing his drink on the table. "That night, the same night I left Hogwarts, I was invited to join the Death Eaters. The thing about joining the Death Eaters is that they give a test."
"A test?"
"Yes, a test. But there were only two questions. What is the most horrible thing you can think of, and Would you allow it to happen if the Dark Lord required it." Draco leaned forward in his chair, resting his face on his clasped hands. "After you say yes, as nobody who said no survived the rest of the test, they… make sure you answered honestly. "
"How so?" Hermione asked, an unnameable feeling of trepidation growing at the bottom of her stomach.
"They do it. They take the goddamn answer to the first question and do it right in front of your eyes, and then damn Voldemort orders you to stand back and let it happen. I had to watch my mother and Pansy be murdered right in front of me, and I couldn't do a thing to stop it," Draco paused, taking a deep breath, "So, understandably, I was not in any great rush to join them after that. "
"Oh, God." Hermione said, greatly regretting that she had even asked the question at all. A taunting thought passed through her head.
'This is what happens when you get curious.'
"But that's me," Draco said, his silver eyes glinting under the incandescent lights. "How about you?"
"What about me?"
"You're running, too."
Hermione looked sharply at Draco again. Was she really that transparent?
"Don't look so shocked. We runaways learn to recognize each other… and we give a helping hand," Draco said, smiling over the cup of his drink, which he had picked up to sip again. "Anyway… I've shared a big secret of mine. Are you in a sharing mood?"
Hermione paused for a moment, taking a deep breath. Then, suddenly, it all slipped out. Coming home. Finding the body. Finding the Death Eaters. Letting them go. The looks of betrayal on the faces of Harry and Ron when she told them what happened. It was all too much to take, and Hermione broke down crying in her chair.
"You let them go?" Draco said slowly, his voice quiet. Hermione nodded, sniffling. Draco stood up, grabbing a box of tissues and sliding them across the table towards her.
"Yes, I did, I let them go even after they'd killed Luna."
A long pause.
"Why?"
"I wanted to know why the bastard had done it," Hermione replied, her fist clenching on the armrest, "I wanted to know what possible reason there could be for killing her. She wasn't even involved in the damn war."
"Does it matter?" Draco asked softly, staring at her across the table. "Even if they had provided a plausible reason, would it have changed how you felt about the situation?"
"Well, I... I just wanted to know something, even if the reason made no sense," Hermione replied, rubbing her eyes tiredly. "Then I could have just killed them and be done with it."
Draco looked across the table at her with a critical eye. Hermione squirmed slightly in her seat, not enjoying the inquisitive look on his face as he stared at her.
"Murder begets murder, you think?" Draco said slowly, sipping his drink, "You think killing them would have made the situation better?"
Hermione glared across the table at him, quickly picking up her drink. "Of course not, I-" Her shaking hands dribbled the hot chocolate, accidentally spilling it onto her exposed arm. "Dammit!" she cursed, standing up abruptly, rubbing fiercely at her arm.
Draco jumped up, grabbing a wad of tissues and applying them to her arm. Wiping off the hot drink quickly, he tossed it away to a nearby garbage can. At that moment, they both realized that Draco was still holding her wrist. He smirked.
"Come on," he said, pulling her towards a nearby staircase, " I want to show you something."
"Should I bring my-"
"Don't bother. This will only take a second."
Hermione followed hurriedly behind Draco, who bounded up the stairs enthusiastically. Once they reached the landing at the top, he opened a glass door and stepped out into a small balcony.
Hermione gasped. "It's..."
"It's a beautiful sight." Draco supplied, leaning on the railing after letting go of her wrist. The two were standing on a small balcony, with minuscule snowflakes dancing around them, catching the light of the balcony. A nearby tree was bedecked with lights and a family played in a decently sized field across the way, tossing snowballs and rolling about in the soft snow. A tiny pond was frosted over, electric streetlights reflecting off the shimmering surface.
"You'd almost think scenes like this didn't exist anymore." Draco breathed, staring about and taking deep breaths. He almost seemed to be trying to absorb the peacefulness of the moment into himself. "Even with all the war and devastation, there can still be peace, even if it's on a small scale."
Hermione nodded for a split second, before her face contorted in apparent agony. However unintentional it may have been, Draco had just reminded her of Luna... and her own failures in that regard. Turning for the door, she gasped when Draco's strong hand gripped her wrist.
"You can't run away from this, Hermione," Draco muttered, turning away from the happy scene to look at her seriously. "I know well enough that's not the way to deal with situations like this."
"How would you know?" Hermione burst out angrily, pointing at Draco, "You've been hiding for five years."
"The pain never went away. It's still with me, even now," Draco muttered, "You need to be with friends, Hermione. You need to share your pain with those who would understand, not bottle it up and flee from it."
Hermione laughed bitterly. "What friends? They'd all hate me by now, with what I've done."
"Potter? Weasley? Hate you?" Draco laughed quietly. "That's ridiculous."
"You weren't there... you didn't see..." Hermione murmured, shivering for reasons unrelated to the cold, "I've never seen such hate."
"Believe me, Hermione... if Potter hasn't changed into someone unrecognizable during the past five years, there's no way possible that he could hate you. As for Weasley... hell, even I could tell he loves you. There's no way they could hate you."
"How can you claim to know them so well? You lot were never friends."
"Heh... we were enemies. That's even better. I knew a lot about Potter and Weasley. How else would I have been able to irritate them so easily?" Draco said, smiling slightly. He paused, sighing. "Seems childish now, though."
"You were a bloody git."
"Were? Glad to see I'm improving."
"Heh..."
The two stood next to each other for a moment, the silent night settling over them slowly.
"I want to go back..." Hermione said, hugging her shirt closer to her. "I just don't know if they'll want me there..."
"Hermione, take my word for it..." Draco said, glancing over at her. "The two of them have probably already organized a search party looking for you. I wouldn't be surprised if they're running the streets looking for you as we speak. With Death Eaters around, they're probably worried sick about you."
Hermione blushed, looking down at the slick wooden deck below her. "I didn't think about that..." Hermione muttered, kicking her foot against the railing.
Draco smirked. "The great Hermione Granger forgetting something? I should write this date down..."
"Shut up!" Hermione retorted, with a slight smile. Hermione looked away from the snowy scene, staring through the glass door and down the staircase beyond it. "I should go back..."
"Yep," Draco replied, turning around as well. Opening the door, he gestured Hermione through and followed after her, traipsing down the stairs into the small cafe. They wandered back over to their table, throwing out the remnants of their cold drinks and putting on their jackets. Draco walked over to the door, stopping at it and glancing back at Hermione. Holding the door open for her again, they stepped out onto the snowy street.
They stared at each other. Draco scratched the back of his head nervously for a moment.
"It was... nice seeing you, Draco."
"...You too, Hermione," he replied, then looked down the street. A small smile passed over his face. "Now, I do believe that's somebody looking for you running up the street right now."
Hermione turned around in a hurry, staring down the street. Sure enough, Ron's flaming red hair was bobbing into sight. She turned around again to say something else to Draco...
...But he was gone. Only a trail of footprints, which were quickly being covered in another layer of snow, remained of him.
She turned again, and ran down the street towards Ron. Ron pulled her into a fierce hug, crying out in relief at having found her while threatening her at the same time to try to ensure she'd never do anything as reckless again as running out onto unsecured streets. Hermione barely listened, and just curled into Ron's embrace. Safe.
As they walked down the street back the way Ron had came, Hermione felt an odd lump in her pocket. Reaching discreetly into the pocket, she pulled out a slim white piece of paper, with a phone number scrawled on one side and a small note on the other.
Hermione read it, smiled, and tucked it back in her pocket. It faded from her mind as Ron walked her down the street; away from the cafe, and back into the war.
.oOo.
Conclusion: Finished! Woo! That only took me two months to do. Granted, a majority of that time was me not doing any writing and I wrote a majority of this back in December and only decided to finish it tonight... bah! Irrelevant!
This was supposed to be a response to a challenge; the basic premise was "a conversation between two characters, with one seeking redemption and the second offering it." I hope I did it well enough. Oh, please, strangers I've never met, be kind.
Thanks for reading, though. I do hope it was worth your time.