The hallways were darker than they had been before. A shadow passed through them. It hung below the ceiling and over the head of a tall boy who was not yet a man. It was cold. Cold enough for white smoke to form around your mouth when you breathed, but nothing was as cold as his eyes. There were burning and yet frozen, defying logic and reason.
He walked the same way he had walked a hundred times already this year, heading for a destroyed room that would never open again. Sometimes, after he had sat against the wall for hours, he imagined he heard a high pitched scream coming right through the wall. It made him shiver to his core.
For the first time he could remember, someone already occupied the space where once a door could appear. He looked down on the tangled mess of bushy hair and pale skin, and sniffed.
"What are you doing here?" Draco Malfoy asked, tapping the girl with his foot. She slid further down the wall and her eyes snapped upwards. They were unfocused and there was something so raw in them that it chafed at him. He looked away and shifted uncomfortably.
"Malfoy?" her voice was soft like the first flowers in spring. "What are you doing here?"
She was so gentle he was caught wrong footed. He stood there at a loss for something to say. He looked at his hands, noticed he was wringing them and stuffed them in his pockets.
"Malfoy?" she said again.
"I asked first," he said sharply.
She looked down at her hands and fumbled with the ring on her hand. It was silent for a long while.
"Honestly, I don't quite know myself," she admitted eventually.
Draco put his nose in the air and looked down on her. "What?"
She smiled and there was a shimmer in her eyes that might have been tears. She shook her head, hair flying around her face. "Forget it," she said. "I can't explain it and I don't care to either. I suspect you don't either."
Draco sniffed and stood there a while. Her hair was like a bird nest - even more so than usually - and her uniform was filthy. He sighed and crouched down besides her, leaning his head back against the rough cobblestones. They sat in silence.
He closed his eyes and remembered the fire that licked at his heels, trying to cling to him so it could devour him. The heat had obliterated any thought that might have crossed his mind.
He knew he was going to die.
He stirred and found the girl next to him fast asleep. Her arm was slightly bloody. He took it in his hand, but it was only a scrape. He tied his tie around it and looked around, wondering how late it was. He looked back at the girl. He couldn't leave her there, so late at night. Not in this cold. He cursed under his breath and picked her up. She was heavy. He carefully adjusted his grip, not wanting to tear her away from her dreams. Something dripped on his shoulder and he looked up, but there was nothing there. He looked down at her and saw the truth. She was crying in her sleep, clinging to his robes.
He made his way to the Gryffindor tower and left Hermione on the doorstep.
He saw her again the next day in Potions, where they were being drilled for their N.E.W.T.s before the tired old Slughorn paired them up and gave them instructions to make their own potion. Draco set to it with a set-jawed, grim-faced determination than made Blaise Zabini make fun of him.
He was halfway done with his potion when her voice tugged at his ear. He scratched it, annoyed, and stirred the cauldron counter-clockwise for the seventh time. He started to count to thirty three.
Her voice reached his ear again. It irritated him. With all the noise in the room, why was it that her voice stood out like a bell.
"You stirred too early," Blaise said when Draco stirred again. "You needed to wait six more seconds."
Draco cursed and took his wand out of the mixture. "You do it, I can't keep my head focused."
"Did something happen?" Blaise asked, looking at Draco from the corner of his eye.
Draco shrugged. "Not really."
She seemed to be everywhere. He saw her in the great hall when he was eating, in the hallways when he was running late and in the owlery when he was sending a letter. Now, she was even here, standing in front of him as he was preparing for his rounds. Somehow it felt like it was the first time he saw her. It wasn't, and yet is was. It was the first time he saw the roses on her lips and the violets under her eyes. The paleness of her skin. The burning of her blood.
She shifted uncomfortable under his stare. "Hannah couldn't make it, she asked me to fill in for her."
Draco nodded. He didn't trust his voice.
Hermione still looked uncomfortable. She glanced around, then back at him, looking like she expected him to throw a tantrum of some sort. He didn't find it in himself to blame her.
"Shall we go?" she asked.
He gave another curt nod and began walking, not looking back if she would follow.
"Hey, Malfoy," she broke the uncomfortable silence that had stretched between them for the greater part of their patrol. "Did you carry me to the Gryffindor tower the other time?"
Draco muttered something under his breath, his face dark.
"What?" she asked.
"I was going that way anyway," Draco said. "It was just a coincidence."
"Don't insult my intelligence, Malfoy," she said and he could hear the frown appearing on his face. Then she added a softer "Why?"
"I don't know," he said sharply. "Because I didn't want you dirtying the floor there. The halls are filthy enough without you lot loitering around."
Hermione stiffened besides him. "I shouldn't have asked." she said and busied herself, checking a broom closet."
Draco dug his nails into his palms, silently berating himself for his quick temper and sharp tongue. When Hermione turned to leave, he reached out to her and caught hold of her wrist. She turned to look at him, a cold anger hanging over her.
"I'm sorry," he said, "I didn't mean that."
He was halfway through reading a scroll on the properties of the Billywig Sting Slime when she appeared once again. When he looked up, she was sitting there, reading a book of her own like it was the most normal thing in the world. Maybe it was, Draco had never been a good judge of these things.
She looked up, catching him staring at her. Instead of looking away like a blushing maiden, Draco held her stare, raising an eyebrow. She didn't look away either, but he saw a faint blush beginning to cover her cheeks. She opened her mouth but no words came out.
"Hello Granger, to what do I owe this…" he paused for a moment and drew his last word out, "pleasure."
"You spelled consensus wrongly," she said in that snotty way of her, pointing at his notes. Draco met her eyes with a flat stare. Her mouth twisted and he'd almost think that she was on the brink of laughing.
She cleared her throat and fiddled with a page of the book she had been reading.
"I wanted to say thank you, for carrying me back to the common room that night. And for being there. I don't think you know how nice it was to know I wasn't the only one who hadn't forgotten."
Draco looked away but his eyes drifted unfailingly back to hers.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he said and turned back to his books.
It was dark , smoke all around him. The air was difficult to breathe, smoke pressing against his lungs. The heat was insufferable. It pressed against him like the sun, licking his heals, eating his clothes. It was all around him. He was desperately climbing higher, up the pile of rubbish and lost treasure. Splinters pierced his fingers and blood fell down like raindrops. Higher he climbed until he could climb no more. The fire was all around him, stalking him like a wolf on the prowl.
He was going to die.
He held his hand up.
"Malfoy," a voice shook him out of his memory. He looked down at his hand and was surprised to see them whole, not a scar lining them. He looked to the side and saw her, settling down next to him. Her hand rested on his shoulder. He felt drained, tired and alone. An irrational urge to cry swept over him.
"Granger," he said. His voice was faint. "Why are you here?"
Her smile was sad. "I wanted to return the favour."
He nodded, rested his head on her shoulder and began to weep. If she was surprised she didn't show it, nor did she push him away. She took his hand and sat there.
They were having a conversation. He wasn't sure how it had started, but here they were, walking to the greenhouses and talking to each other as if the last six years had never happened, as if they were of no real concern.
She laughed and it was a wonderful sound. He looked at her and she glanced at him, suddenly growing serious as if the same thought had crossed her mind. What were they doing. Who were they fooling?
She fidgeted with the ring around her finger.
"I don't think we have ever talked like this before," she said.
He shrugged and pulled his coat tighter around himself.
"It's nice to know there was a person deep beneath those layers of bastard."
He smiled to himself. "It's nice to know there was a person beneath those layers of know it all stuck up-ness," he responded. His wrist itched and he resisted the urge to scratch it.
"Oh come now," she said, "I wasn't that bad."
Draco took a few hurried steps forward and turned around, facing her. He put an expression of pure eagerness on his face and raised his hand, stepping from foot to foot.
"I know, I know," he squealed in a high pitched voice, "It's Colloportus, professor. Oh I know, it's Moonseed, professor. Recognisable by their sickle-moon shaped appearance. It is highly poisonous so you must be very careful in measuring the correct dose. Oh professor, I know."
Hermione swatted him, her cheeks a bright red.
"I get it, I said I get it," she said, glaring at him. "Please stop."
Draco lowered his hand. "Do you promise not to spread any more lies concerning your obnoxiousness?"
"That was years ago," she said, avoiding his question.
"And it was very much you."
She glared at him again and they walked in silence for a bit, until a startled yelp from her broke it into a thousand pieces. Draco turned and reached out just in time to catch her outstretched hand. As soon as he held it, he knew he was too late anyway and he fell down with her, landing on top of her. His hands hit the ground hard and he was sure he had torn open his trousers at one of his knees. Everything stung. He opened his eyes and took in a shallow breath. Her face was startlingly near his.
He smirked through his pain. "It's slippery," he said, pushing himself off the ground and helping her up.
"Merlin, you're heavy," Hermione said. She brushed off her clothes and looked away. He pretended not to notice her red cheeks and adjusted his own clothing.
Draco tisked and shook his head. "Pulling me down with you. I knew you were a bore, but I never took you for a cliché as well."
"Oh please, reaching out like I was falling out of a window like that. If one of us is a cliché, it's you, Malfoy."
The next few weeks he saw a lot of Hermione. He joined her at her usual table in the library, she joined him when he snuck into the kitchens to steal some chocolate, She helped him with an extra curricular astronomy chart and he accompanied her on one of her many trips to the owlery. He wondered if she had been lonely with her friends all gone. The only one who was still there for her was her boyfriends little sister, but he didn't see the two of them together that often.
His hand brushed hers again, returning his thoughts back to the present. he withdrew his hand like it had touched fire and cursed being left handed. She didn't seem to notice him at all. Gritting his teeth, Draco continued working on his assignment.
She leaned in.
"Can you hand me that book?" she asked in a hushed voice. Her eyes never left her scrap of parchment, no doubt looking it over for any mistakes she might have missed while writing it. She frowned and scratched out a line, writing above it in her precise handwriting.
He handed her the book and watched her write for a bit. He had found that he got a significantly smaller amount of work done when she was around. To make up for that, he spent more time in the library than he had done before. Still she was always there - If she wasn't working on some assignment, she was reading a book or silently practising a piece of magic - and he didn't mind the extra hours in the stuffy old library in the least.
He turned back to his book and resigned himself. He still had five more chapter to slug through.
"Say, Malfoy," Hermione said, her eyes still on her parchment, but her quill had stopped scratching.
"Yes?" he asked.
"Do you have anything planned for next weekend?"
He shrugged. Next weekend was a Hogsmeade weekend. He'd planned to go to the hogshead to get a good drunk with Blaise.
"Not really," he said, glancing at her from the corner of his eye, trying to gauge what she was up to.
"You're not going to Hogsmeade then?"
He thought about it for a moment, then conceded, "I am, it's nice to get out of the castle for a bit."
"Then, would you like to go together?" She asked. There was not a hint of embarrassment in her voice and her quill was scratching again. "Ginny said she wasn't feeling well and I don't like to go alone."
Draco laughed. "I don't think you'd like the things I want to do," he said. She raised an eyebrow at that.
"Planning on deflowering some maiden in a back alley, are we?"
"You think so highly of me, I can see why I hang around you."
"Well, if it's not that, then I am sure I am up for whatever you want to do," she said. She looked at him, daring him to say something to the contrary. Draco smiled and shrugged.
"Your funeral."
"Something you want to say?" Draco asked as he entered the Hogshead with Hermione in tow. She looked around, and uncomfortable expression on her face.
"Maybe something along the lines of 'I was wrong, you were right, oh dear Draco.'"
She scowled and took of her coat, following him to a table near the back.
"What are we doing here?"
"Well," he said and leaned closer to her, "there is a gathering in less than ten minutes - right here at the Hogshead - about finding a way to revive the Dark Lord. It's quite the event."
her eyes widened, then narrowed. "You're joking."
"I am," he said lightly.
"How can you joke about that," she asked.
He shrugged. "How can you not."
She looked at him and it was clear what she was thinking. How dare he make light of what had happened, how insensitive was he.
He cursed under his breath and sat down.
"It's not that…" he dragged his hand through his hair and knacked his knuckles. His irritation was rising. "I know it's not something you're supposed to joke about, it's just that..."
Then Hermione laughed and sat down next to him. "Oh stop, Malfoy. I understand. I think it's wonderful you can joke about it already." She flicked his ear. "It wasn't a funny joke though."
He stared at her, not sure how to react. She looked around the shabby bar with a vague interest and picked up the menu, scanning it over. "So," she asked, "Now that we're both equally uncomfortable, can you tell me what you lured me here for?"
Draco nodded and waved the waiter over, who looked at him with a solemn eye before making his grudging way over to their table.
"One bottle of Firewhiskey." Draco said to the man. When the barman didn't move and shot him a dark look, Draco raised an eyebrow. "Sir," he added. The Barman scowled at him and was off.
"I didn't know they served tables here," Hermione said, looking surprised. Draco looked at her, wondering if she had seen how the man had looked at him.
"They don't."
A few minutes later a shabby bottle of Firewhiskey was set in between them, accompanied by two glasses that had stains as permanent as the pattern of the glass. Draco took the bottle and poured a generous amount of the Firewhiskey in both of the glasses, daring her with nothing but a look.
Her face was set in a grim determination as she took the glass, looking at it like it was a mission rather than a gift. Draco smirked and raised his glass.
"To Hogwarts," he said. After a moment, Hermione raised her glass as well.
"To Hogsmeade," she corrected and took a sip of the burning liquid.
They were not in any state of soberness any more and Draco had just finished telling a rather bad joke about a goblin, a centaur and a wizard. Hermione was laughing, her face his her arms. He saw her shoulders shake. They were surprisingly slight.
She hiccuped. "Oh Merlin, it's been a long time since I had fun like this," she said, shaking her head a little. "Far too long." She lifter her head and looked at him. "What is black with black flecks, and isn't a cow?"
Draco frowned. "Aren't cows brown?"
She shrugged.
"A cat," he said, thinking of Mrs Norris.
She shook her head.
"A car."
She burst out laughing. "It's an animal," she said, stretching the last word. "Not a car."
She continued giggling, much to Draco's irritation.
"You never said that."
"I'm saying it now, too much of a riddle for you to crack?"
Draco sniffed. "A zebra," he said without much hesitation.
"Wrong, a zebra has stripes, not flecks."
Draco put a finger to his temple and thought about it, but came up with a blank, he relented, "okay, what is it?"
She leaned closer to him and said, "It's secretly a cow anyway," and burst out laughing again.
Draco scowled for a long time before his face broke out in a grin. "Unfair play!" he said, pointing a finger at her. "You tricked me."
"It's a riddle, they are supposed to trick you."
Draco dragged a hand through his hair and shook his head. "It was a foul one, you have to admit that."
She nodded and stood up, slightly swaying on her feet. "We should get going. It's getting late and if I drink any more I think I might fall into the lake."
"You're assuming I won't push you in anyway," Draco said, his eyebrow raised.
"I am assuming," she said, brushing past him and turning to look if he followed her, "that I am smart enough not to give you that chance."
For the first time that year, the castle didn't feel cold and empty to Draco. He basked in the heat of her fury, her anger fueling his own. He felt the flush on his cheeks and his hands were trembling. He bawled them up in fists and stuffed them in his pockets. Her eyes were filled with a venomous determination to see him dead and buried.
"How dare you?" she spit at him. "How dare you use that word to anyone. How dare you!"
Draco gritted his teeth. "I told you, I didn't do anything. I don't know who you heard it from, but it's not true."
But she was shaking her head, her hair seemed to frizz more than usual in the heat of her anger.
"I knew I should have listened. They all warned me to stay away from you, but I thought they were fools. I thought you had changed." She bit her lip and glared at him. "But I was wrong and they were right. You're still the same coward you have always been."
Draco practically spat fire.
"I'm the coward?" he asked indignantly, pointing one finger to his chest, waving the other around. He spat.
"That's rich, coming from a girl who's afraid to admit her feelings to herself, much less to someone else."
She paled and stepped up to him, raising her balled fist as if she was going to take a swing at him. He met her eyes and he saw tears glistening in them. He remembered her, sprawled outside of the room of requirement with the same teary eyes. He gritted his teeth again.
"Am I wrong?" he asked.
She dropped her arm like his words had snapped the strings that had held it up. The anger dripped out of her. She leaned her forehead against his chest and shook her head.
"I'm sorry," she murmured into his shirt, "I believe you didn't say it. Ginny is just so convincing sometimes and..."
"And I called you that once, so it wasn't that unbelievable," he finished her sentence for her. His anger left him, leaving a cold, empty void behind.
But then she was there. She nodded and he felt her tears soaking through his shirt. He put and arm around her and suddenly she was everywhere. She filled the hole inside him. Her smell, the feel of her against him, the touch of her smooth skin, the tickling of her hair on his face.
She looked up at him, her eyes red and her skin wet. He traced his thumb along her cheek, wiping the tears away. His finger trailed her cheek and down her neck. Her skin was so smooth, he couldn't help but stare. Leaning down, he put his mouth to hers without thinking.
She cornered him the next day in the library. Her face was a mask as she sat down. She didn't have her usually overstuffed bag with her. Her hands were empty and folded on the table. He raised an eyebrow in a silent question, closing the book he had been reading.
"About yesterday," she said. She was twirling the ring around her finger again. Draco felt a sinking sensation in his stomach and ignored it, waiting for her to continue.
"It never happened." She looked away and bit her lip.
"So you're still running?" Draco more said than asked. there was no spite in his words. His mind was on the ring. He felt tired and cold.
Her eyes jolted back to his. "No, it isn't like that, Draco. It's just complicated. I'm engaged and... you're you. I don't know what I'm feeling, but I know I love Ron. Everything is so confusing. I don't know what I'm supposed to do." She tangled her hands in her hair, looking at him with big eyes.
Draco looked away, his mouth twisting.
"You should do what you think is best."
He opened his book again and ignored her, gritting his teeth. After a few minutes, she left.
An. WHAT AN ENDING. Sorry I had no inspiration for anything more satisfying than that, and I kind of like to leave it on that note. Please tell me what you think of it
