Hey, guys! Hope you enjoy!
-MissSunMessage
Guilt stabbed Hermione in the heart. Oh, Harry, she thought. It's not me you should be worrying about, but the fifteen year old boy who's got a death sentence on his head. Again, she desperately wished she could tell him where her mind was these days.
She smiled painfully.
"Right," and made as if to leave-
"Hermione, you haven't seen Harry's map, have you?" Ron asked suddenly, and Harry said, "Oh yeah. Did you?"
Innocently, Hermione repeated, "map", and pretended not to understand, all the while silently thinking, Wingardium Leviosa! and concentrating on hovering it past their heads.
"You know, the Marauder's Map..."
Come on, just a bit further- over to the desk-
"Oh. Isn't that it over there?" she asked puzzledly.
"Hermione, you're a saint," Harry sighed, and snatched it off the table.
"Hardly," she replied. "Good night."
That night, Hermione barely slept at all, so heavy was the conversation she'd had with Draco on her mind. What was she doing? Conspiring against Dumbledore, the entire school staff, Draco's family, and Voldemort himself? Something must have triggered this rebellious, fearless streak in her. Not to mention the fact that she was helping a Death Eater drop out of school.
Walking after class, she thought about how she'd caught Harry staring at Ginny, practically drooling, the other-
Hermione spotted Draco walking a few feet away, hunched over against the cold, hands shoved in his pockets. Quietly, she wove her way through students dressed in red, silver, brown, blue, gold, green, yellow, and bronze.
"Hey."
Startled, he stumbled and fell into her cloak. Reaching out, Hermione's fingers grasped Malfoy's gloved hand, and she steadied him.
Realizing what they were doing- holding hands- they both stepped apart quickly and looked around in panic, trying to detect if anyone had been watching.
"Sorry!" Hermione whispered fearfully. She thought she saw Luna glance over at them, but then her dizzy blue eyes lingered on a tree nearby.
"Can we talk somewhere? Somewhere quiet?" he muttered.
"Yes, I think-"
Suddenly Hermione became aware of the crowd that now surrounded them, eager to watch what they were sure was a fight. Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy inches apart, talking? Clearly, someone or something was about to explode.
Hermione winced.
Sorry, Draco! and yelled, "Barst Blada!" Blood spurted from Malfoy's nose, and he gasped, hand over his face. He looked up, furious and confused, to find eyes all around him focused, waiting to see how he'd retaliate.
"Filthy Mudblood!" he yelled, and sent a white-hot lash of magic towards her.
She came up, face burning, and flicked her wand smartly.
He doubled over, gasping, feeling a fist in his stomach.
Quickly, before he could respond in kind, Hermione ran off.
Draco looked up to see everyone watching him apprehensively. Sneering at them, he kicked a first-year's bag away and walked on.
No sooner had he entered a hallway than a sixteen year old girl flung herself onto him and started examining every inch of his face. "Oh, oh, your nose!" she squealed. "I'm so sorry, Draco! I didn't know what else to-"
He jerked back, and she flinched, looking at him anxiously.
"It's fine," he answered, taking the tissue from her and pressing it to his nose, which was still bloody from her hex. She certainly paid attention during Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts, didn't she? "What else could you do, everyone watching like that?"
Relieved, she backed away and watched him.
"We should get back to the game."
"But then when will we-?" It seemed Malfoy was afraid to even speak of their plans. Hermione understood all too well.
Briskly, she said, "Right. Well, during the game, meet me under the stands, okay?"
Teeth chattering, Hermione huddled against the wind, listening to the enthusiastic cheers of her fellow Gryffindors. She glanced at Neville.
"Hello, Hermione. Good game, eh?"
"Mm-hmm," she said with a private sigh. "How much longer till it ends, do you think, Neville?" she asked vaguely.
He glanced at her with a toothy grin. "Go, Hermione."
She sat up, surprised. "What-?"
"The game'll last long enough for you to go see whoever it is you want to see so badly," he assured her. "I'll cover for you."
She beamed at him.
"Thanks, Neville!"
"What do you know, it's warm under here," she muttered as she squinted into the dark underside of the stands. "Draco?" she whispered.
"Yeah," he whispered back.
She smiled at him. "Your nose looks better."
"Yes, yes, let's skip to the plans," he answered, bending over the detailed blueprint of the castle she'd drawn with painstaking attention to detail. "This is amazing. How did you do it?"
"I walk around the castle sometimes," she replied, looking it over approvingly. "Now, you see this entrance? It goes into the Great Hall, so it'd be a bit dangerous to go through there. What most people forget about is the entrance at the bottom end of the West Wing. There isn't much patrol there, so no one'll notice our leaving through there. I was thinking you could go during a free period, when everyone's sitting outside. That way, it won't look odd when you're leaving the castle during all hours. Is that okay?"
"Yeah, of course," he agreed, still absorbed in her sketch.
"We can go out sometime during lunch to try out some of the enchantments, okay?"
"What excuse do we use for leaving?"
"Leaving?"
"You know, the people we're always with. Potter, Weasley, Zabini, Parkinson. What excuse do we give them?"
She frowned at him. She hadn't thought to concern herself with such tiny, unexciting details. "Well," she said honestly, "I just usually say I'm going to the library."
He stared at her for a second, then began to laugh very hard. "Merlin, Hermione, you're really something, aren't you?"
She glanced at him, then smiled.
"Yes, well. Back to the map. You see that door? Meet me there at lunch on Thursday," she ordered. "Then we'll try out some of the enchantments."
Hermione climbed over to her chair, smiling at Neville. "You're a lifesaver."
He blushed fiercely. "Not at all."
"What's going on with the game?"
"Harry's going for the snitch. Again."
She cringed. "Tough break for him?"
"Not his best."
At breakfast, Harry spoke up. "What's with Malfoy? He looks all pleased with himself, the prat."
"Harry!" Hermione admonished. "Let him be!"
"But Hermione, he's a-"
She glowered at him. "Well, if he is, then that's even more reason to leave him alone!"
Ron, mouth full, grumbled, "What're you talking about?"
Harry looked at her skeptically.
Nervously, she said, "Well, if he really is a Death Eater, then shouldn't we feel sorry for him? It can't be easy, being fifteen and having to serve Voldemort!"
Ron snorted and pointed his fork at her. "Trust me, Hermione, if he is one, he chose it."
"What if he didn't?" she asked, her voice rising an octave. She knew she was speaking above a regular volume, and people were beginning to stare, but she didn't care. "What if he was forced? Don't you two have any empathy at all?"
Harry stared at her.
"Hermione, calm down. What are you talking about?"
But Hermione was feeling short of breath, and pushed her chair away and left the Great Hall without another word.
During lunch, Hermione sat down with Harry and Ron in the courtyard, still feeling uneasy about her outburst at breakfast earlier, but thankfully the two didn't say anything about it.
"How was Burbage?" Ron inquired, referring to Hermione's Muggle Studies teacher.
"Oh, the class was good. She talked about Muggle wars," Hermione explained. "She described guns as noisy, metal tubes that shot out hard projectiles very quickly. Oh, and Blaise Zabini asked if swords were ever used for picking your teeth. I don't think he quite understood the concept, although I give him credit for even taking the class at all."
Harry chuckled. "Remind me why you take that class."
Hermione smiled.
"Because he described them as fast metal tubes," Ron explained condescendingly.
Harry joined in, smiling widely. "Because it's simply fascinating."
"Because you need to understand the Muggle world through the eyes of a wizard," Ron offered.
"Because you need a free period to sleep."
"Because you sit next to Cormac McLaggen."
"Because you need to take an even number of classes."
"Because there's a nice view from the classroom window."
"Because it's right next to the library."
Hermione stopped laughing and stiffened. "Oh, Merlin, I forgot! I need to go to the library! Quick, what time is it?"
They frowned at her.
"Twelve fifteen. What do you need to go there for?" Harry demanded with an injured look.
"To study!" she explained, standing up.
"Hermione, you spend way too much time in there," Ron told her sagely.
"I'm sorry! I'll see you in Defense Against the Dark Arts, all right?" she called over her shoulder, bumping into several third-years in her haste to get away.
"Sorry, sorry!" she cried as soon as she entered the West Wing's entrance. "I forgot!"
Malfoy stepped out of the shadows, saying, "Don't be sorry. It's fine."
She glared at him. "Don't say that! This is your life we're talking about!"
"You were only late a few minutes..." he pointed out.
"What excuse did you give Pansy and Blaise?" she inquired.
He smirked. "I didn't."
"What do you mean? What did you say when you got up and left?"
Again, Malfoy gave her a little knowing smile. "I didn't say anything."
She gaped at him. "You mean you just walked away during a conversation?"
He nodded casually, examining his wand. "Do it all the time," he told her.
"What, and they still talk to you?"
He shrugged. "Apparently."
Shaking her head, Hermione declared, "Whatever. Let's get started."
"What do I do?"
"Nothing. You stand over there and keep quiet."
And, moving towards the doorway, she began muttering strings of words that he either didn't know or just couldn't understand, faster and faster, until it became a steady stream of incantations. Occasionally, she jerked her wand up or flicked it, but for the most part it remained stiffly directed at the door.
Finally, Malfoy just sat down on the floor and watched her in wonder.
She seemed so familiarized, so at peace, like doing this magic gave her inner happiness. Thinking to himself, Malfoy admitted that he couldn't think of anyone that was better suited to be a witch or a wizard than Hermione Granger. He wanted to ask how she knew all of this, but he strongly suspected her answer would be "the library", and he didn't want to distract her and have something go wrong. Something gave him the feeling that this was a highly dangerous thing to be doing.
After what seemed to him like an hour, Hermione's hand began to shake, and with it, the door. Malfoy could actually see the wood splintering along the edges, and the hinges quivering.
He jumped up, swearing. Was this what was supposed to happen? "Hermione!" he shouted.
She stepped back, eyes wide, lips slightly parted.
"It worked," she murmured. Then: "Draco, it worked!" she cried ecstatically.
Looking at her so proud of herself, he couldn't help but be proud of her too. Why hadn't he ever seen how beautiful she was? But...
"Hermione, shouldn't we run now?" he asked nervously.
Dazed, she answered, "Oh... Yes, we should," and made no particular effort to tear her eyes away from the slowly exploding door.
Alarmed, he gripped her wrist. "Hermione, come on!"
Blinking, she seemed to understand at last that they were both in danger of being crushed by her spell.
Holding his hand, they ran like thieves through the castle.
Bursting into Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, laughing, they collapsed onto the soaked tiles.
Myrtle floated out of a stall, eying them suspiciously. "You aren't laughing at me, are you?" she demanded.
"No," Hermione gasped, "We aren't. Promise."
Malfoy grinned at her. "You did it. You actually did it."
"Well," she said breathlessly, "That's just the initial step. There's still more guarding enchantments to break. But yes, I got through it."
Abruptly, Malfoy's smile faded. "Can they trace you to it?"
Hermione shook her head. "Well, they could, but I think only if they check wands... They shouldnt, though, because then they'd have to check the whole schools'... There's Veritaserum and truth spells, but they're not supposed to use those on students. Remember when Umbridge did, last year?" But she was really only talking to herself at that point, so Malfoy kept quiet and listened to her think aloud.
"Most likely they'll just ask if anyone knows anything, and assume the worst... That there's an intruder... Maybe search the school? I don't think that breaching boundaries can be traced without checking wands for their spell histories or without confessions... I don't think they'll trace me to it," she concluded, looking up at him. "They could, but not without difficulty, so they won't."
"Will students hear about it?" he asked curiously.
"Listen for an announcement at dinner," she shrugged.
Sighing, Malfoy leaned against the wall and smirked at her. "That was quite something to watch."
She blushed. "It wasn't that hard."
"Oh, don't be modest. That was amazing," he said quietly. "I didn't even know what you were saying."
Hermione giggled. "Well, some of it was in Bulgarian."
"What, where that Krum was from?"
"Yes, he taught me some very tricky spells they learn over there."
"Didn't you go out with him in fourth year?"
She gave him an strange look. "Yeah, so?"
"Nothing." He paused. "Do you still talk?"
The next look she gave him was curious and amused. "Sometimes. Why?"
"Just wondering," he muttered. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of what was not quite jealousy, but something very close to it.
She smiled oddly. "Draco..."
She leaned her head on his shoulder.
"Don't overanalyse everything."
He stiffened, and she lifted her head up. "Do me a favor?" she asked hesitantly.
He tilted his head irritably.
"….. Tell me about yourself."
He snickered. "Me? Why?"
She glared at him. "Well, if you're going to run away soon and go into hiding and I'll never see you again, then I want to get to know you. I mean, I hated you all these years until I realized what you're really like, and now I want to know what you're really like."
"Fine. You start."
Taken aback, Hermione stared at him. "Me? Why?"
He raised an eyebrow. "Because I hated you all these years until I realized what you're really like, and now I want to know what you're really like," he said unblushingly.
Hermione laughed. "Okay. Like what?"
"Like your favorite color."
"Blue." She glanced at him expectantly.
"Yes, more."
"Okay." She took a deep breath. "My name is Hermione Granger. I'm a Muggle-born witch. On holiday, I live with my parents, who are dentists. My favorite color is blue. I hate Divination class. I love to read. My favorite season is fall. I created an organization called the Society for the Protection of Elfish Welfare. I don't listen to music much, but I used to play the violin before I came to Hogwarts. But losing the ability to play the violin was a small price to pay in exchange for becoming a witch and learning all these new, amazing, world-defying concepts. I can't imagine growing up with magic, so I envy you for that. I always sleep on my right side. My favorite flowers are carnations. I think I've changed since I saw you on the roof that night."
Malfoy leaned forward to hear what she'd say next, but she raised her eyebrows. "Your turn." He sighed heavily, and she smiled.
"My name is Draco Malfoy. I'm a pure-blood wizard. On holiday, I live with my parents, who are wizards. My favorite color is green. I hate Divination class, too, but it's a fairly good class to sleep in. I don't really read. My favorite season is winter. I've heard of your organization, but its spoken of as SPEW, not the Society for the Protection of Elfish Welfare. I played the piano before I came to Hogwarts, and I haven't forgotten how, but I haven't exactly practiced, either. I never learned all these new, amazing, world-defying concepts, since I'd been hearing about them ever since I was born. I can't imagine growing up without magic, so I envy you for that. I always sleep on my back. I think I've changed since I saw you on the roof that night, too."
Hermione gazed at him. "You forgot something," she said disappointedly.
"Oh, yeah? And what would that be?"
"You didn't say what your favorite flowers were," she accused.
He snorted.
"Tiger lilies," and she couldn't tell if he was joking or not.
"Liar," she said anyway.
He sighed, smiling down at his feet. "Roses," he announced.
"Seriously."
"Dandelions. Daisies. Foxglove. Orchid."
"Draco!" she said indignantly, "I mean what's your actual favorite flower? Not kidding?"
He laughed. "You'll have to find that out in time."
She sighed and shook her head exasperatedly.
There was a long silence, and then Malfoy took her hand gently.
Hermione was too shocked to pull away or say anything. "Come with me."
Relaxing, she glanced at him sideways. "Where?"
"I mean run away with me."
And all her shock flooded back, violently.
"Run away with you," she repeated dizzily.
"In April," he clarified.
"But... But... Why?" she finally asked.
Bracing himself, Draco closed his eyes and spoke. "Because you're amazing and brilliant and you're helping me so much and I'm afraid to go alone and because..." He took a shallow breath. "I think I love you."
Hermione lost the ability to speak. She closed her eyes and tried to think of what she felt when she thought of him. Draco watched as her eyes darted back and forth beneath her dark eyelashes.
A desire to help him, yes, attraction, that swooping sensation she got when she saw his face, affection, recognition, and- She couldn't quite identify that last feeling, and that scared her.
Her voice cracking, Hermione choked out, "I think I love you too."
Confidence boosted by a mile, he began to talk faster and faster. "You could finish your classes by then, I know you could, and have taken all your final exams, and you know more about what to do than I ever could, and then it wouldn't be half as terrifying for either of us, not if we were together, and we both know you're twice as smart as I am, and I don't think I could do it without you, and I know it's asking a lot, to run away from your friends and your family for who knows how long, but I can't really thinking of any reasons why you would want to, just why- why I need you to," he finished hopelessly.
Hermione looked at him. "Okay," she said quietly.
He looked up. "Did you-?"
"Okay, I'll go with you. A trouble shared is a trouble halved, right?"
He gave a rare, genuine laugh of delight, and as she looked up and reached for his hand, she realized that he was reaching for her hand too.
And that his lips were reaching for hers, too.
