Disclaimer: If I were JK Rowling, I'd pair up Draco and Hermione and hand Ron over to 'Lav Lav'. Of course, if you understand my sarcasm.
A/N: I can't believe I took ages writing this! From an angsty, totally gory retelling to a sad (according to my brother) and rather fluffy one-shot. Well, I can't possibly write something depressing for Christmas! Anyways I'm quite satisfied with the result, so I hope you enjoy reading this!
Random rambles: I bet you've heard about the 7th book's official title? Yup, I hyperventilated for a while, and now I just can't wait for it! In case you don't know what I'm talking about, go to MuggleNet and you'll know :)
Winter Memoirs is a trilogy of separate one-shots, written as Christmas gifts for Harry x Ginny, Ron x Hermione, and Draco x Hermione shippers. Three different stories, told by three different people of their memories during a fateful winter after their sixth year. Unsung Melody is the third and final one.
Summary: "People don't fight because they want endless power, Malfoy. They fight, even reluctantly, for the sake of living, even if it's just one more day."
Pairing: Draco x Hermione
Point of View: Hermione
Unsung Melody
- 6th January 1998 -
"… We appreciate it if you give your full cooperation, Mr Malfoy, as well as your honesty… and in return we can have a truce, securing you safety with the Order…"
I press my ear deeper against the door, hoping McGonagall's voice won't fade away. I curse inwardly, having not purchased one of Fred and George's Extendable Ears when they offered a Christmas discount a few weeks back, because this is the time when I need one most. The incantation I'm using to counter McGonagall's charm (which makes the room soundproof) isn't working as well as I hoped. Damn, that woman knows me too much.
"Miss should not try at all, it don't work," Kreacher remarks rather wickedly from behind me.
"Go away," I retort, fighting back a random kick to emphasise it. My S.P.E.W. campaign still plays an important role, despite a certain house-elf whom I'd love to banish to eternity right now.
I focus my ear for any voices, but I hear none. I sigh in dejection, ignoring Kreacher's satisfied grin as I give up and lean against the wall beside the door, waiting for the interrogation to be done.
It's thanks to McGonagall that I've been unkindly forbidden from joining Harry's Horcrux-searching team ("You may follow Potter and Weasley next time round, but for now your duty to the Order lies here," she told me sternly when I argued.), and Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place isn't exactly getting many guests, because Mrs Weasley isn't allowing anyone – even the twins – from stepping a toe into this house, because we're holding a dangerous prisoner here.
A Death Eater by the name of Draco Malfoy, who is found nearly-dead, smattered in blood and a limb or two broken in the Forbidden Forest.
I always wonder why Madam Pomfrey isn't responsible over him, since she knows much more Healing than me. A crash course on Healing techniques during the summer isn't enough to beat an experienced medi-witch by any levels. But, by no hesitation McGonagall put me in charge of Malfoy.
"We need you to cure him, make sure he stays alive so he can testify for the Order. His information may be valuable," Remus told me the day Hagrid brought Malfoy over, an hour after I was summoned by McGonagall in the middle of a wizard chess game (I was nearly beating Ron).
"Malfoy's nothing short of a traitor, he doesn't need any healing for all that he's worth," I remember growling venomously, gritting my teeth as Remus and I watched Malfoy, his pale blond hair completely covered in blood, being carried to a clean room.
Yes, one week of confinement to this miserable house, without any permission to leave this compound (aside from an occasion where I've to move my things over temporarily from Ron's house) gives me a constant mood swing. One week of loneliness, only an unconscious patient and my singing voice as company.
It takes one week for my anger at Malfoy to slowly ebb away, and replaced by mixed emotions and pity.
The door opens sharply and I quickly push myself off the wall, waiting for McGonagall, Remus and Kingsley to step out of the room. "So, did he say anything?" I ask curiously, keeping a grim note to my voice as the three adults exit out to the corridor.
McGonagall rubs her temple exhaustedly and obliges to answer, "He's already given us enough information to give us a lead. He's still weak, so rest is crucial for him to fully recover before he tells us the rest."
"I'm quite surprised at how well he's cooperating," Kingsley says rather amazedly, "normally it takes force to weed information out of his kind."
I nod understandably at them. Since there's nothing left for me to do, I'm just about to trail back to my room when McGonagall holds me back. "Hold on, Miss Granger, I assume Mr Malfoy still needs some check-up before you go to bed," she orders.
Immediately, I frown at the prospect of having to do more chores. Apart from being nosy, I don't deny I don't want to see Malfoy. Not right now, I've gotten so used to him being asleep that it's an embarrassing thought.
McGonagall gives me a nod and descends down the staircase, Kingsley and Remus following behind her. I sigh, and enter the dark room. The only resource of light is from the candles lit on the bedside table, where it shines on the grave face of the occupant lying on the bed. Quietly, I seal the charm on the door and shove my wand into my pocket. With an Anti-Magic field placed on the room, I won't need it.
"Come to make fun of me?" Malfoy asks coldly, without sparing me a look.
I look at him unperturbedly when I coolly reply, "Verbal abuse isn't going to do any good, if you're trying to tell me that."
"Don't lie into my face, Granger, I know you'd love to mock me," he snaps, finally turning his head in the pillow and focus his cold eyes on me.
I ignore him as I take a seat on a chair beside the bed and start examining his bandaged arm, which is the nearest. "There's nothing to mock, Malfoy. I'm only here to heal you, not taunt you for what you are," I tell him rather kindly.
Taking this chance of needed silence, I gaze at him, who returns back to staring at the ceiling, resting his head deep in the feathered pillow. For a while we exchange nothing more than nods and grunts, and I quickly examine his injuries. I smile in relief at the sealed gashes on his chest, and the countless cuts are starting to heal. I leave his arm in the cast as it is and gesture to his head.
"You should've killed me."
I stop unwrapping the bandage from his head and look down at him with wide eyes, still comprehending his words. "Excuse me?"
Malfoy's piercing gaze cuts into mine when a hollow laugh leaves his throat. "You think I don't know what's cut into my arm?"
A gasp gets stuck in my throat and I unconsciously cover my mouth with my hand. No, I've covered his arm with so many bandages and even put on a cast, how could he possibly know?
You don't deserve to serve the Dark Lord, maggot.
I remember the tears welling in my eyes when I saw those words slashed deep into his skin, over the now-distorted Dark Mark on his arm. There're also many thin slits which look like they're self-inflicted, as if he's trying to hide the disgraceful tattoo. I've tried all my best to conceal it, but the words are just too deep, it'll stay as a long-term scar.
"I know… I can still remember their spit when they said it into my face, throwing whatever lousy punches they can give," he murmurs bitterly, closing his eyes in a violent, painful expression. He clutches his unhurt hand into a tight fist angrily, that it's shaking badly.
"Malfoy…" I start, but he cuts my sentence.
"I don't need your pity!" he roars hoarsely at me, his eyes flaring open. I flinch at his outrage and retain an expressionless face, though I'm clearly bewildered. Malfoy turns away and continues, "There's nothing left for me, I'm not safe anywhere, and I've no power."
Looking at him, feeling pitiful and weak like a bird that lost its wings, it's just pathetic. For some reason, I feel angry, disappointed even, that he's giving up so easily. Yeah, there are times that I feel he deserves to be tortured for what he did last year, but seeing Malfoy's true colours, it's just aggravating that he's weak. This is really getting on my nerves.
"Being powerless doesn't mean there's no reason you should live," I yell at him, not aware of my raised voice. I move closer and grab him by the shoulders angrily. "Even if there's no hope, people still fight, even reluctantly, for the sake of living even if it's just one more day. There're so many people out there who died when they wanted to live, so don't tell me life is worthless, Malfoy!"
I breath deeply, unable to control the stream of tears rolling down my cheeks. I hardly notice the shocked, speechless look registering on Malfoy's face. All I know is that I loathe how his mouth hangs open, hardly any words coming from him, and his reaction when my tears falls on his neck. A thousand thoughts are running through my mind, waiting to pour out of my mouth.
"For years I've gotten used to your bullying, that I hate you without needing a reason to. It's just so easy to feel angry at all the things you do, because you're just a pathetic fool," I bellow at the top of my lungs, swinging my fist vigorously. "But it's so hard to understand why, why I panicked when they told me you were beaten half to death, why I cried when I saw that ugly writing on your arm, and why I hope, against all that is logical, that you won't die. TELL ME WHY!"
I wipe the tears of my face furiously and glare at him, sniffing and swallowing the sob from escaping my throat. My legs give away and I drop onto the chair, and I cover my face with my hands. I keep telling myself there's no need to overreact, but it's not working. I've just spilled all the truth to him.
I just can't accept the fact that I've repressed feelings for Draco Malfoy. I'm in love with Ron, not Malfoy, I've been trying to convince myself that. I can't be falling for a Death Eater.
But that's what you've been doing for the past week, a voice in my head tells me slyly.
"Granger…"
I ignore him, even when he reached out his free hand and holds mine. I can't bear to look at him in the face.
"Granger… grrr, Hermione!"
My mind practically stopped functioning right now. I remove my hands from my face and look at Malfoy, a surge of confidence filling his face. He… he called me by my first name. It's so sudden, that I don't fight his hand off.
"I… I never told McGonagall or Lupin when they asked," he says softly, tightening his hold on my hand, "about you. I didn't tell them that I heard your voice, when I was asleep."
Despite the anger still boiling inside, I feel warmth rising in my cheeks as I blush furiously. I gulp the lump in my throat back down and reply, "It might be me, I was… singing while I was tending to your injuries. Most of the time."
Embarrassment aside, what shocks me is that a smile finds its way onto Malfoy's face, the corner of his lips curling into noticeable dimples. I've never seen him smile like that before.
"I woke up because I followed your voice."
I seriously have nothing more to say, because I don't know how I should react. Happy? Delighted? No, none of them fits. And I don't have another second to think, because out of nowhere Malfoy pulls me down and kisses me.
I try to pry away from him, because I can feel him wince painfully at the force my body is putting on his arm and his wounds. But his arm holds me tight to him, locking me in an awkward position on his body. I let him press his lips against mine, kneading his fingers against my back, and involuntarily I close my eyes and kiss him back. I can still taste the salt from my tears, and blood from the cuts on his lips. But there's something else in the kiss: it's comforting me.
He pulls away and I look at him in confusion. He chuckles and I narrow my eyes when I see the tiniest of a smirk forming on his face. I move off him and sit at the edge of the bed, my back facing him so I can hide the darkening blushes on my face from him. I absent-mindedly pat the invisible dirt off my robes, and a shudder rushes through my insides when he speaks.
"Thank you."
I spin around and stare at his sneering face. "For what?"
"For trusting me," he merely says, shrugging his shoulders slightly.
"I never said I trusted you," I snap curtly, glaring at him as he snickers silently. I turn around and choose to take a seat on the chair instead, in case he decides to grab me again. Then my mouth widens and I yawn noisily, watery tears blinding my eyes. I study my watch and see that it's nearly midnight.
"I'm going to sleep," I announce, but instead of getting to my feet, I wrap my arms around each other on the bed and rest my head on them.
Malfoy cocks an eyebrow at me with amusement. "Not going to your room? They might get suspicious, you sleeping with a Death Eater in a room. Anything can happen," he remarks, a taunting tone in his voice.
"Ex-Death Eater, you mean," I correct him, unable to hold back another yawn, "and shut up."
I can barely keep my eyelids from drooping, but in the end I surrender, gratefully closing my eyes and my mind drifts to sleep, unaware that Malfoy speaks the truth: I'm spending the night with a dangerous wizard in his room. But then again, I reason sleepily, it doesn't hurt if it's just one night.
A hand runs through my hair and gentle fingers brushes against my cheek. I smile at the warm touch, not really knowing whose hand it belongs to. But what I really know is, I don't want that touch to go away.
I don't even hear him murmur the words, "I love you."
Though I admit, even if I love Ron Weasley, I've already given half of my heart to Draco Malfoy.
A/N: Reviews feed my happiness, so if you'd be so kind of spare 2 minutes and write one, I'll be the happiest girl in the world! And I won't be writing for a while, so here's an early Merry Christmas to everyone! And happy holidays to those who don't celebrate it! – Love from Nessa