Disclaimer: I don't own anything in the HP universe. So there.I flattened my body again the cold stone wall and leaned over to the corner, trying to get a look around it. Holding my hair back so no one would see it, I peered down the corridor. The coast was clear. Even the bloody pictures were asleep! I gloated to myself for a moment... those silly boys had to depend on enchanted maps and invisibility cloaks to get anything done these days. Hmph! With a satisfied smirk on my face, I crept all the way down to the end of the corridor until I came upon the portrait I was searching for.
I drank in all of the brushstrokes, the curves and points the artist drew and brought to life within the frame so long ago. The beauty trapped inside it captivated me... I nearly forgot myself as I reached out to touch it. The young witch inside awoke with a start and looked at me with deep aqua eyes that held disdain. "Password?" It was not so much a question as a demand, and I might have given her a right piece of my mind had she not stood, or hung, rather, between me and the appointment I had. Instead I drew a deep breath and straightened my back, determined to proceed.
"Billywigs."
With that, she slid aside. "Difficult to be superior to me when I have your password, isn't it?" I sniffed as I entered, careful not to brush against her gilded frame. I didn't heed her reply as she resumed her place behind me. Instead, I took in the scenery.
The room was beautifully adorned in forest green drapery and antique wooden furniture. A plush black carpet covered the floors and tickled my bare feet as I removed my shoes and white knee socks. Removing my shoes and socks, that was a rule he had about his living area. I set them to the side neatly, against the wall. The four-poster bed had so many black silk pillows on it that I could hardly see the platinum blonde contrast at the head of the mattress, with silvery grey eyes fixed on me. Those eyes I used to think were so steely and cold, but now I knew they were merely a reflection of his world. Nothing was black and white in it; only shades of grey. As I grew to know him, to love him, even, all I wanted was to lighten the grey for him. To not let those eyes and everything behind them fade toward black as his father's had.
I wanted to move closer, but my confidence had faded and been replaced by nervousness, uncertainty. As I had done every other time I'd entered his room, I wondered exactly why I was there. He seemed to notice this, or perhaps it was predictable by now. He sat up, his hair falling perfectly into place around his cheeks. "Gra- Hermione," he said, with a husky tone I'd never heard before. Not from him. I nodded my response slowly and watched him hold his hand out to me.
I wasn't even sure what it would mean to take it and go to him, but I simply didn't care. I, too, didn't know black or white anymore. It was plain, uncomplicated, too precise. While Harry and Ron still struggled to be pure and white, my mind had already grasped the truth of the matter: Nothing in this world is pure good or pure evil, and I was tired of living up to the standards. I didn't want pure. I just wanted right.
I wanted to feel alive, and the only way I ever did anymore was when I was with Draco. We talked about things that were real, we spoke of the real world and life and what happens outside the walls of Hogwarts. He rarely spoke of quidditch; instead he wanted to tell me of his travels and the places he'd seen. The Dark Arts tablets and artifacts his father kept at Malfoy Manor fascinated me, so he told me stories to satisfy my curiosities. He spoke of his mother with the utmost love and respect. He begrudgingly confessed a strange draw to Muggle technology, but he wasn't fond of it when I jokingly called him Arthur. He respected my intelligence and I respected his. It was refreshing to feel appreciated for being one person, not part of a trio. And I could be wrong, but I believe he appreciated me for wanting to know him as Draco, not as the heir to the Malfoy fortune and destiny.
Taking a deep breath, I walked closer to him and stopped at the corner of the bed. Without thinking, my fingertips grazed the luxurious fabric of the comforter. It was soft and inviting. It made me want to be impulsive. So I was.
I raised my hand from the comforter and placed it in his. I watched his lips turn up into a small smile and naturally returned the warmth I felt there with one of my own. He pulled me over to sit next to him, and I did so. But it was the strangest thing... neither one of us spoke. Ordinarily we'd be chattering away at one another within seconds of meeting, anxious to not waste the few precious minutes we stole, eager to get out the day's events and socialize in a way we couldn't with our respective Houses watching over us. But this time we were silent. Watchful. Slow to move. Unhurried.
Unnerved by the change, I cleared my throat and spoke. "Tomorrow we leave. You'll owl me, won't you?" I knew the answer though... he couldn't. There was too much at stake with his family and his reputation. He was going to leave me behind when he left Hogwarts. I'd known it since we became friends, though we never spoke of it. It was just common sense, though I resented it. I resented losing him.
The question fell flat on my ears even as I'd said it. I closed my eyes and bent my head to keep my burning cheeks from being seen. The gentle finger on my chin came as a complete surprise. It nudged my face upward and settled my eyes back onto his. "No. I won't owl you." Bloody hell, I'd known the answer, so why did it ache to hear it? Tears stung my eyes and threatened to fall, but I couldn't. I couldn't cry in front of him any more than he could owl me. I had to get up off of that bed, the place where I could forget that we weren't even supposed to be friends.
But he grabbed me. He grabbed my wrist and looked at me with those pleading eyes, the ones he saved for the times when he really wants me to understand or believe him. I could never deny that look. When he took my face into his hands and held it steady so I had to look at him, I did the only thing I could.
I kissed him. I closed my eyes and poured all the tears and hurt into that kiss. I couldn't explain it to him, I'd never summon up enough Gryffindor bravery to speak the words. But every time I ended one soft kiss and began another, I hoped he felt it. I even hoped he was well-studied in Occlumency, so he could enter my thoughts completely and know who I was, both with him...
...and without him. I simply needed him to know before I left.
Finally, I pulled myself together and pushed him back. I didn't wait to watch him fall back into the pillows. Instead I raced for the portrait hole, grabbing my socks and shoes along the way. I didn't look back. I couldn't bear to. I would not fall apart because of this. I wouldn't allow it. Hermione Jane Granger is more sensible than that. The plan was forming in my head as I hurried to slip my shoes on my feet; I would calmly make it back to the common room, where I would find Harry and Ron where I left them, playing wizarding chess, although I don't know why Harry insists on playing with Ron these days. Ron's gotten quite good at it and Harry doesn't have a prayer in winning anymore. And on top of it, they make their stupid bets- why can't I get this sodding shoe tied?- and Ron always wants the same thing, chocolate frogs from Honeydukes- finally! My shoes are on, I can head out and never look back at this disastrous-
"Hermione?" I froze.
"I won't owl you. So watch your muggle post."
-Six Days Later-
Dear Hermione,
Why didn't you tell me that muggle post is a bloody joke? These "stamps" of theirs are ridiculous.
I will be visiting Oxford in two weeks and would like you to accompany me. It will only be an overnight stay, but I trust we can be inconspicuous for such a short period of time. Please send a response to the address below.
Glancing at the address, I couldn't help but smile. He thought of something. I should've known he'd think of something!
P.S. Of course I'm well-trained in Occlumency. And I love you too.
-FIN-