*Title from song by Depeche Mode*
Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling, so unfortunately, I do not own the Harry Potter world!
Hi there! This is my first fanfiction ever, so I hope it's okay! Enjoy!
-MissSunMessage
The sun was setting, and in a few hours the Equuleus Constellation would be visible from the grounds of Hogwarts Castle.
"Right, I'm going to go and see if I can make anything out of it and turn in a paper as extra credit," Hermione told Harry and Ron.
"Extra credit," Ron repeated weakly.
"What do you need extra credit for?" Harry demanded incredulously. "Hermione, you won't get any sleep, and tomorrow's our Quidditch Match!"
"'Sides, your grades are perfect, and Astrology isn't even a main subject!" Ron added.
"Honestly, is Quidditch all you two think about?" Hermione asked loftily. "It's fascinating. You can only see it in mid-September. And extra credit never hurt anyone, did it?"
"No, but sleep-deprivation did!"
"Goodnight," Hermione said firmly.
Hermione walked languidly towards the designated spot she had prepared to set down her telescope. Once organized and with plenty of time to spare, she gazed up at the castle. She didn't think any of the students their age ever stopped to marvel at the stunning beauty and age of their school. Especially now, in the evening, the West Wing-
Wait a minute. What was that-?
Was that a student standing on the roof of the West Wing?
But that was so dangerous, what were they thinking?!
Hermione peered upwards, squinting.
That was definitely a person! And those looked like student robes!
Without a moment's hesitation, Hermione sped off towards Hogwarts.
Making her way quickly up the stairs, she burst through the door that led to the roof she suspected the person was on.
Hermione gasped as she realized the student was none other than Draco Malfoy, and he was standing very, very close to the edge.
"Malfoy?"
He spun around, hand flying to his wand.
"Protego," she said impatiently. "What are you doing? You could fall off!" Hermione added concernedly.
"Granger," he spat, "Leave me alone."
"As a prefect, it's my duty to-" With shock, she realized he'd been crying. "What's the matter?"
Registering the scene before her, she recalled Malfoy staring down with a calculating look in his eye. "Are you- you weren't about to jump, were you?" she asked sharply.
"I said to go away!" he sneered.
"Draco Malfoy! I am not about to leave this roof when you were obviously about to jump off!" Hermione cried shrilly. "What kind of person would I be if I did that? If you want me to go away, tell me what's wrong with you!"
He looked up, his face paling even further. "Fine," he said wildly. "I was about to jump off. I- I wanted to kill myself before- before he did. Before I could fail..."
Stricken, Hermione whispered, "Who? Fail at what?"
"The Dark Lord," he whispered. "If I don't do it, he'll kill me."
She froze. He was already a Death Eater? At fifteen? Harry had been right... Oh my God. Then at Borgin and Burkes, had he shown Borgin his Dark Mark? What had he been buying? Voldemort had let in a fifteen year old boy?
Somehow, despite all the years of mutual hatred, and her recent understanding, her heart went out to him. "Do what?" she asked urgently.
Malfoy just shook his head and turned away.
"Draco," she pleaded, "tell me what's going on. I can help you..."
"No, you can't. Why would you want to? I was horrible to you," he muttered.
"That doesn't matter at all. Just tell me what he's told you to do..."
"No!" he snapped.
Full of pity and sympathy, Hermione took a step back. "Please, Draco, come away from the edge," she pleaded. "You don't have to tell me anything at all, just please don't jump."
Pointing his wand at her suddenly, his eyes narrowed. He couldn't do anything through her shield, of course, but she felt a tinge of fear anyhow. "You can't tell anybody," he said fervently. "Not Potter. Not Weasley. Not-not Dumbledore, either."
"I promise," Hermione agreed quickly.
Oh, God, just don't let him jump.
Reassured, Draco moved back. "Okay." He hesitated. "Thank you... Hermione."
She smiled at him in relief. "You can talk to me any time," she said resolutely.
He said nothing, just indicated for her to drop her shield and left the roof.
Hermione went to bed, thinking hard about what she'd just witnessed. Cold, cruel, arrogant Malfoy had acted lonely, desperate and remarkably frightened.
What had happened to cause such a transformation? What accounted for the change of a person's personality and mindset? Hermione wondered. She could barely look at it rationally, so great was her compassion for him.
With an upbringing like his, it can't have been easy for him. His father a Death Eater, his mother related and married to a Death Eater, well, pretty much all the Malfoy's, the whole lot of them, were Death Eaters, or at least sided with Voldemort. Poor Draco!
Hermione resolved to keep a close eye on him and watch to make sure he didn't do anything rash.
In Potions the next day, Hermione took her customary seat next to Harry and Ron.
"So tell us, how did your little Astrology lesson go last night?" Harry asked her, raising his eyebrows. Hermione gazed at him blankly until she remembered why she'd gone out yesterday.
"Oh, fine," she murmured, turning her attention to Professor Slug-horn, who was explaining what a Mass Potion did.
"Fine?" they repeated incredulously. "Where's the 'oh, it was so fascinating, you two really should read about it'?"
Hermione blinked at the two.
"Honestly, I don't always do that," she said indignantly. "Now pay attention!"
Slug-horn was explaining something about weight vs. length. "What was that?" she whispered frantically. "Did you hear what he said?"
Ron shook his head vaguely, staring at his blank parchment.
Coolly, a voice said from her left, "He said that for this potion, when we get our ingredients we'll have to weigh them rather than measure them, seeing as this is specific to the Mass Disguise Potion."
Startled, the three turned to stare at Malfoy, Hermione looking decidedly more pleased than Ron or Harry. For good measure, Draco added, "Pay attention, Mud-blood," and looked back up at Professor Slug-horn. Ron relaxed a bit, assuming everything was normal, but Harry was unsettled.
What was that look they'd exchanged? It'd looked almost like... Warmth. And understanding. "Thanks," Hermione murmured, and added it to her notes.
"Now, I'll split you up into pairs, and we'll try it out, have a little competition," the professor said enthusiastically. Hermione sat up a little straighter.
Mentally, she begged him to place her with Harry, recalling how he'd won the Felix Felicis, Lucky Potion, just last week. He had the graffitied Potions book, and while she wasn't the best Potions student, merely second-best, now pushed to third-best, she'd surely do well partnered with him.
"Let's see..." He rattled off names, coming to an end with, "Zabini, Parkinson. Patil, Brown. Goyle, Crabbe. Weasley, Potter. Longbottom, Thomas."
All these students were staring at their remaining classmates, who had reddened significantly, each for their own private reasons.
"And Granger, Malfoy," Slug-horn finished neatly. "Get into your pairs, find a desk, and begin making your potions, please."
Resigned, Hermione and Draco gestured mutually at each other and made their way over to a table in the back.
"Do you have your book?" Hermione asked briskly.
Draco nodded, and began weighing the crow's feathers they were to include.
Quickly, Hermione realized what an exemplary Potions student Malfoy really was. Yes, she'd always acknowledged him as the best in class, but there was simply a wayward, natural grace to his movements as he prepared their potion.
Somewhere in between mixing in snake-skin and waving away smoke from their cauldron, Hermione muttered, "Are you okay today?" and Draco glanced at her sideways.
"Yes," he replied curtly, clearly opposed to discussing it, and began to swat at the thick, blue smoke heading towards them from Neville's cauldron. As he flapped his arms irritably, the sleeves of his robes fell down, exposing half of a black tattoo on his wrist.
Hermione froze for a moment -Oh My God, she had never really seen a Dark Mark up close before, and had never heard of a fifteen year old boy receiving one, how horrible, she recalled how fiercely Harry had argued with them that he had one, that he was a death Eater, and they had disagreed- then coughed quietly and, as Malfoy turned to stare at her, tapped her wrist.
He instantly knew what she meant and quickly pulled his sleeve back up, turning crimson.
They spent the rest of the class in silence, each remembering what the other had said last night. At the end of class, he had worked so efficiently, and Hermione had worked so quietly, that when Professor Slug-horn came to their desk, collected a vial, and dropped it on a cube, it weighed virtually nothing at all. "Well done, Mister Malfoy and Miss Granger! Fifteen points to Gryffindor and Slytherin," he said brightly.
Malfoy eyed Hermione, and she couldn't help the smile that crept onto her face.
Why did Malfoy, the boy who'd she'd called her enemy until last night, who accused her of having dirtier blood than himself, who she'd hit in third year because he'd caused her just that much aggravation, who was vain, filthy rich, at times downright heartless, and prone to causing many people grief, possess the ability to make her feel so light-headed?