Chapter Two
Hermione's knuckles went white and the parchment in her hand crinkled under her grip. She was speechless. Harry and Ron shook her arm, but she stood up wordlessly, dazed, and scanned the now-standing students in pursuit of the blonde head of hair she had been avoiding since their arrival at Hogwarts.
She finally spotted him, still seated, gawking at his piece of parchment like it read the date of his death. She heard Harry and Ron whispering worriedly behind her until her feet managed to move her heavy, weighted body towards her partner. Her feet were like lead and it seemed to take a lifetime to reach his table.
Draco Malfoy finally tore his gaze away from the parchment and swallowed, staring up at Hermione with what almost seemed like sympathy. Like he doesn't want me to be stuck with him.
The thought was dashed away at the sound of his voice.
"Granger," he said, almost cordially. She nodded stiffly back and sat on the sofa beside him, skin crawling at the thought of being in the same air bubble. Malfoy's friends - Blaise and Theo - seemed amused at the situation that was in front of them. She nodded in greeting to them as they snickered.
"Granger," Blaise acknowledged, "I don't have anything to say other than; shit luck, mate."
Despite herself, Hermione gave him a tentative smile.
"Who did you get?" she asked politely. It wasn't that she particularly liked the two Slytherin boys, especially since they had been part of the crew that had once called her names and slurs, but they had never directly insulted her, so she figured that it was right to be courteous at least.
"Neville Longbottom." He grimaced, getting to his feet, "Poor sod."
Hermione hummed in agreement and when Blaise raised his eyebrows at her, she realised her mistake.
"I wasn't agreeing! I only meant he's a bit fragile and you're-" Hermione didn't finish her sentence, but she didn't have to. Blaise snorted.
"I won't break your precious little friend. Believe it or not, some of us are actually willing to try and do this thing." He lifted a hand in farewell and headed out into the crowd to find Neville. Theo sighed and got to his feet too.
"Guess I should go and find my perfect match." He wandered off, mock saluting to Hermione as he left.
Well , Hermione thought, that could have gone much worse . With her distractions gone, she turned her head to acknowledge the person sitting to her left, who had been staring at her relentlessly since she had sat down. She looked anywhere but his eyes - his hair, the window above his shoulder, the collar on his shirt, the slightly-shaking hands in his lap that he hastily tucked in his pockets. The silence stretched between them.
"You'll have to look at me eventually, Granger."
She closed her eyes and let out a long, deep breath. Then opened them and stared straight into Malfoy's eyes.
"Hello," he said sarcastically, but it chipped away at some of the heavy air between them and she found her lips quirking upwards.
"Hi," she replied. After another silence fell over them, she tore her gaze away and ran a hand through her hair, letting out another deep breath, "Look Malfoy, are you expecting me to ask how your summer was? Talk about the weather? This," she gestured between them, "Won't work. We can't pretend like the past eight years didn't happen. We can't."
Malfoy finally - finally - took his eyes off her.
"Didn't say it was going to and frankly, I'm not willing to try," he replied, picking up the tiny piece of parchment from the table in front of him and slowly tearing it into strips. Hermione's piece was still clasped in her now-sweating hand and she placed it on the table in front of her. Two pieces of parchment, one with Hermione's name that was torn to shreds, and one with Draco's crumpled into a tiny ball.
"Okay everyone, now that you're in your pairs I want you to share one secret, no matter how big or small, with the person you're with. Tell them about the time you wet the bed when you were fourteen, or about the time you saw a man die in front of you - however far you feel like going. But remember; this is about pushing yourselves. The person sitting across from you will be one of the only people you can share your secrets with and know for certain that they'll never be able to spread them." Magoro's voice called out over the loud chatter. The room immediately quietened to a dull, restful titter of words. She waved her wand and curtains began to surround the sofas one by one, cutting all pairs off into their own little alcoves.
Hermione watched with terror as it happened to each sofa, working towards the back until it finally happened to them. The noise from the classroom seemed to disappear instantly, though the light still filtered through plenty.
It was Malfoy and her now. No distractions, just silence.
She shuffled in her seat, picking at the hem of her school trousers, the lead that was once in her feet now in her stomach. What was she supposed to say? She had a million secrets and none of them she was willing to share with Malfoy, of all people. When she raised her eyes to look at him again, noticing that he had begun to roll the shrapnels of parchment into tiny little balls, she clapped her hands on her knees.
"Okay," she said, determined, "We can't sit here in silence. I, for one, have never failed to excel in my classes and I would very much like to continue, even if there's no grading system. I owe it to myself."
"I would expect nothing less," he replies back in a flat tone.
After a brief moment to recollect herself, Hermione straightened up and opened her mouth to say her small confession.
"I think this is a bigger waste of time than looking after vicious creatures with that huge oaf." Hermione closed her mouth, frowning at Draco's unexpected and unwelcome confession.
"That 'huge oaf' is a much better person than you'll ever be," she spat, surprising herself at the viciousness behind her tone. Draco wrinkled his nose at her.
"Always was a huge bleeding heart for those less fortunate, Granger."
"I would hardly call Hagrid 'less fortunate', he's not you so that puts him into the fortunate category without question."
"Anyone who wasn't on the side that lost the war is now more fortunate than those that were. But either one of them could have been the loser."
Oh, so the war was being brought up now? How long had it taken before he'd decided to slip in his great defeat? Less than four sentences? She gritted her teeth together, the hairs on her arms prickling as irritation spiked its way through her body.
"Both sides were losers in the end weren't we? Hard to feel victorious when there are funerals to attend," she said. Draco's jaw had begun to throb half-way through her statement and she could see the muscles in his neck tensing. He jerked forwards and she flinched, immediately hating herself for it.
"Don't talk to me about your pitiful little losses, Granger. You've come away with 'heroine' stamped on your abnormally sized forehead. Some of us have 'traitor' burned across our entire bodies."
Regaining her composure, she settled her calm gaze on him.
"Those people made their choice. They should live with the consequences." Neither of them realise the curtains have swished into thin air, leaving them both exposed to the classroom. Luckily, their classmates were too busy reacting to the new light to notice them.
"What about the people that didn't have a choice? You're so quick to defend house elves, wanting to set them free from their controlling owners, so where's that big Gryffindor heart for the children trying to protect their families? Becoming slaves themselves, for their parents and brothers and sisters? Don't pretend like you're some kind of saviour, Granger. You act like you have some kind of oversized heart for everyone in need but you don't. You only have time for the ones who you've decided are already good. "
Hermione doesn't even have a chance to think of a response before he's pushed himself out of his seat and stormed out of the classroom, the door rattling the walls behind him.
Draco was rigid, his limbs working robotically and his feet thudding against the stone beneath them. He ran a hand through his hair and loosened his tie, rage clouding the corners of his vision as he tried to figure out what direction he was going in.
This year was going fucking fantastic. He'd been glared at, tripped, spat at, pushed away and insulted - that was all expected and brushed off. But to have to deal with all of that and stare Hermione Granger in the face every day for a lesson that was completely unnecessary - that was the tipping point. He didn't need it; didn't need her self-righteousness and belief that there was nothing in the world she had done wrong. Perfect little girl with a perfect little family and perfect little friends - living the life that all the children on the Dark side had wished they had. And there she was, grinding it into one of those children's faces like he didn't know already.
He approached the portrait to the Slytherin's dormitory and gritted the password out, storming in and returning each and every gaze and glare that came his way. He was not in the mood to be the guy they blamed for it all.
Draco turned sharply and marched into the Eighth Year sub-dormitory, a tiny blip of gratefulness that they all had their own separate dormitory and rooms for this final year. He head towards his room and without hesitation, he dropped his knees to the floor, reached under his bed and in less than thirty seconds he had the Firewhiskey in his hand and was taking as many mouthfuls as he could handle.
Hermione couldn't move. She was stiff, shaking and couldn't stop swallowing even though her throat and mouth were dry. Malfoy had been horrible to her before; he had said mean, mean things. Words that cut her deep and left her empty.
But he'd never said so much to her in one moment and his words had never left her so raw, like he'd torn her open and mixed up her insides before sewing her shut again. It wasn't that she had been left with stuff to say or that he'd said something that had left her riled up.
It was because it was all true.
Draco Malfoy had left Hermione Granger speechless. Draco Malfoy had left Hermione thinking. Because maybe, just maybe, he was right this time. She had all the time in the world for those mistreated creatures. The house elves, the giants, the werewolves, the centaurs - she advocated for them at every turn and fought with people who told her they were worth less because of who they were.
But she'd just said the same to Malfoy. That he deserved to be treated like dirt because of who he was raised to be, because of where he'd come from, because of who he is.
She felt like there was glue on her tongue and ropes around her chest.
"Hermione?" She looked up at Harry, who had approached her silently. He looked worried. "You okay?" She swallowed again, looking down at the table.
"It's fine- I'm fine. Everything's fine," she replies, stumbling over her words. Ron stood next to him glumly, red hair flopped across his forehead.
"We'll talk to the Professor, Hermione. Get you switched to someone else," he says comfortingly, resting a hand on her shoulder and gripping it.
Hermione didn't say anything for a moment, thinking hard. She looked up at the Professor across the room and saw her staring in their direction, brow crinkled and lips pursed. Obviously whatever magic that was working in the room had already alerted her to the fact that Malfoy and Hermione hadn't shared a single secret. Even worse, Malfoy's theatrical exit was more than enough evidence that the pair did not get along.
Something told her that no matter how much anyone protested - even Harry Potter himself - it would only make her want to keep them together more.
Hermione sat up straighter and clenched her teeth together. No. She didn't want to switch. She didn't want to run away from a silly little boy in the body of a man. Malfoy had been a leech in her side for so many years, like an itch she couldn't scratch. The war was over, she didn't want to spend her last year at Hogwarts continuing a new, pointless little skirmish. She'd end it.
"No," she swiped Ron's hand off of her shoulder gently, smiling up at them both in reassurance. "I'm okay." She stood up, ignoring their looks of surprise. She grabbed Harry's hand and hooked her arm through Ron's and made her way to the Great Hall, already feeling better.
