1992
In their second year, Draco noticed with discreet glances that Hermione held herself differently. The projected air of self confidence was less so, replaced with a girl more sure of her standing in the world without needing it to be voiced. Her hand still shot up into the air at the mere inkling of a question, she still lauded her knowledge and reading material, but it lacked a certain desperation that clouded her the year before. It irked him that such a shift was clearly visible in her whilst his own growth felt tethered by the mighty strings of his father. It was for that reason, he told himself, that he declared a silent pledge to remind her where she stood. He wanted to even the playing field, as it were, and have the balance restored. He didn't want to be left behind.
The Chamber of Secrets was a perfect opportunity to exploit a weakness and he clung to it, using her blood status as a focal point. In his mind, it was the largest cloud he could form over her ever reigning glow. He only hoped it would have the impact he desired. He really had very little to work with.
It worked initially, and he was pleased with her reciprocated sneers and witty retorts. It became a game of wills, and as it continued back and forth, he had to admit that the challenge became almost obsessive for them, respectively.
It wasn't until the first petrification of a student that he was hit with a cold hard dose of reality. His words and taunts were given a new tangible threat; the game wasn't a game anymore and he struggled with how to proceed. He found out rather quickly that he didn't prefer the balance being in his favour.
One late afternoon, with the sky already dimming to an inky purple hue, he made his decision and found his way to the library. It was a given she would be there, slumped over some monstrously large tome, and practically inhaling the words to regurgitate at some later point.
He found her, just as he'd pictured, jammed into the corner at the back of the room, with more texts than desk visible, and one leg tucked under her as she read.
He did love being right.
Snaking his way past the towering shelves, he gracefully dropped into the spare seat opposite her and quickly effected an air of nonchalance as he grabbed a tome and started flicking through the crisply aged pages.
As she was often known to do, it took her some time to realise she was no longer alone and it took a glance at her notes before she realised there was a blonde interruption too close to her personal space.
She eyed him up and quickly shut the book with an exaggerated slam to let him know she was aware and obviously displeased at his intrusion.
"You should go to the hospital wing," she said blandly, not bothering to show her true annoyance just yet.
He smirked already knowing what she was alluding to. "No Confundus here, just thought we needed to check in, can't be safe living with Slytherin's heir so close and all."
"Harry is not the heir of Slytherin! I know your inbred brain must struggle, but do try to keep up!
Draco snorted at that, she must be tired today if she went with that line first. "Inbred to perfection!" he retorted, flicking an invisible speck of dust off his robes. It was always those subtle actions of his that wound her up and he could see her eyes flicker to his hands, watching his careless gesture.
"Ugh! You're disgusting! What do you want? You obviously came here for a reason or are you really that bored with Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee?"
"Tweedle what? Granger, are you sure you aren't Confunded? You're speaking gibberish. Better get to the hospital wing, go on, off you go." He waved his hand towards the exit and gave her a look like she had some contagious illness.
Hermione crossed her arms and radiated exasperation at him. "It's a Muggle reference, a very accurate one. I do love that I can insult you with my superior knowledge of both worlds," she unwrapped her arms and started shuffling around with her notes, "I'm rather busy and this is important so could you please just leave and go blind someone else? This sunset is not doing your hair any favours." To emphasize her point she reached a hand up to shield her eyes from the supposed glare from his white blonde hair.
His jaw clenched slightly at that, she knew how he felt about his looks. He was getting off track though so he overlooked it. "What are you working on?" he answered instead.
The shift in his tone from banter to seriousness was not lost on Hermione. "Magical Creatures, why? I know you're not interested in this type of thing."
Draco had looked over the titles of the books she had piled around her as he had sat down. She was close, but she wouldn't make much leeway with the amount she was trying to get through and she needed to know now.
He tilted his head, pondering how to approach this when Hermione decided to prove her point and quickly jumped into lecture mode.
"Lethifolds, for example, are classed as a beast rather than a non-being like Dementors even though they have similar characteristics and are only repelled by a Patronus charm. Care to discuss?"
Her quality impersonation of Professor McGonagall was impressive and he had to reign in a chuckle.
"Well maybe it's because of their preference for tropical climates? I can't see a Dementor floating around a beach. Can you?"
She spluttered and quickly looked over her notes to fact check, a small amount of pink tinting her cheeks. "Yes, well, that still doesn't explain why they would be classified as XXXXX creatures by the Ministry."
"Granger, they are both equally classified as dangerous, that's what's important."
"Yes, but details are important! Information incorrectly labelled, or incorrectly detailed in the first place makes research and understanding harder!" She paused and seemed to remember who exactly it was she was ranting to.
"Like I said before, I know you're not into this. Just go, Malfoy. I don't have the energy to deal with you right now...Ok?"
He stared at her for a few moments and she met his gaze blankly. He knew she was keeping all her frenzied thoughts from being exposed and he admired her for it.
He looked down at the page he had flipped to in the book before him, turning it around and keeping his finger pointed to a specific section. She didn't look down to where he had indicated, instead holding the stare and waiting for him to speak.
"I'm know more about these things than you think, Granger," he voiced quietly, but seriously, and tapped his index finger on the paragraph she needed to see. She looked down to where he was pointing, her eyes growing large, before she jerked her head up to stare at him again.
He didn't say anything else, knowing it was enough, hoping it was anyway, as he quietly left her without looking back. He'd done what he could, right? Right.
~0~
Hours later Draco replayed their conversation over and over wishing he had said more. His feet felt too heavy as he dragged himself higher and higher away from the dungeons, barely glancing at the sleeping portraits who were rather noisy for non-living, supposedly sleeping paint.
He waited just outside the doors to the hospital wing, covered by the darkness of night and his own bleak thoughts. He didn't really know what he would do once he entered, he just needed to see first and go from there.
One step at a time.
The large magical doors blessedly didn't creak when he entered and it wasn't difficult to spot the drawn curtains around the beds of the petrified students and lonely ghost. What was difficult, however, was trying to force his shaking hand to still so he could see for himself what he was responsible for. Would she be breathing? Were her eyes open? The thought of seeing her corpse-like sent a shudder down his spine, and one micro glance at her perfectly laced shoe was enough to have him reeling back. He took several deep breaths before slumping down to sit on the floor at the foot of her bed, the curtain still dividing them.
He reached up, between the break of the linen walls surrounding her and placed his hand on her ankle. It was a small mercy that she was still warm to the touch.
"I'm sorry," he brokenly choked out, not even trying to ignore the gentle tears rolling down his cheeks.
It was the first time in his life that he had apologised for anything.
~0~
Present day
Draco kicked a small pebble and watched it ricochet away, he could have said so much more to her that day. His apology was meaningless to her and lacking for what he could have voiced. It was years later and still, he hadn't learnt.
There was no redemption in unheard apologies.
