Chapter 4 The break of a linear process, round II

She stood there watching the men disapparate with Malfoy. She knew it was Pansy's own act, and Malfoy wouldn't have any difficulties proving it.

Besides, what was Malfoy's version of the events? Why had he been found in her room? What if the investigation revealed that there actually was a murderer?

Hermione sat on a trolley and leaned her elbows on the kitchen counter as she wonder why life had suddenly given up following its usual race. Her reason was telling her to go back immediately to London, to lock herself into her bedroom and wait for life to take back its linear process. But she felt involved now and she wanted to understand. She wanted to understand Pansy's act. And something about Malfoy's look was disturbing too.

This is how the witch found herself in Domodossola, the Franco-Italian prison situated under the White Mountain, looking for Malfoy. She first thought about pretending to be his lawyer, but Malfoy might have already met with his. Then, she just introduced herself as a witness.

There was no artificial sky: a few torches lightened the prison's walls like specters. As she followed the guard silently, smells of urine, vomit, and rot came one after the other and blended together, tightening the knot she had inside her stomach. On the other hand, the cells were guarded by wizard instead of dementors, Hermione noticed, which was less sinister.

Malfoy shared his cell with three other supposed criminals. Hermione had expected to see him standing like a peacock and cursing on everybody or looking self-righteous. But he was just sitting on the opposite bench alone, staring at the bars. When the guard went to pick him, she wanted to stop him or run away as if she was about to do to something against her nature.

Too late, Malfoy was in front of her now. The guard guided them towards a little room without doors or chairs, just space.

Hermione waited, trying to decipher Draco's thoughts, but his face wasn't expressing anything but incomprehension.

"What do you want?" He asked in a voice as cold as the voice of a Gringotts employee.

"I know you didn't kill Pansy. I want to know what happened."

"Why? It's none of your business."

"This is my business. You see, I just can't see Pansy alive and miserable, dead within the next hours, and then, go back home as if it doesn't matter to me." No response.

"Malfoy stop looking at me as if I'm a ghost and answer!"

"But that's what you are... You and Pansy, you're like poltergeists... messing with my almost quiet life like two rancorous ghosts. But, there are some ghosts who would be better to stay in their closet."

"What are you talking about? Do you realize that Pansy is dead? Dead Malfoy...!" Maybe because of him she wanted to add.

"And you know what? I did want to kill her. To tell you the truth, I wanted to squeeze her throat until her eyes left her head."

"But... I thought you were lovers..."

"Lovers?" Malfoy smirked. "I never loved anybody but myself, Granger. She knocked on my door, begged for help because she had some problems, but I have problems too. How could I protect her from sinking when I'm myself plummeting to the depths?"

Hermione was too upset to say anything. That might have been the reason why his face softened...or maybe he just felt relief after his confession.

"I, I reckon I was too harsh," he said after a pause, "...But she seemed to understand; I thought she was ok with it... Now, she killed herself like a vulgar muggle."

"You're a git."

"Well, what did you expect? I'm a Malfoy."

"I mean, you're still a git."

They stared angrily at each other, eyes full of reproach as old as Hogwarts history, full of antagonistic sorrow, filled them with despair. And then, something strange happened, everything was gone, years of hardship had blown away as they found each other's crack, which the rain would never be able to fill up.

Malfoy buried his head in his hands, shoulders down, and when he let his face appear, Hermione saw an unfamiliar look. Perhaps, it was just another mask?

"Time has passed for everybody except Pansy," he spoke softly. "Even Goyle is clean; I visited him in prison last year. He does gymnastic and created a group of anonymous ex-young-death eaters there... " A light smirk curved his lips.

"How did it happen", Hermione tried again.

"She sent me a message, asking me to come to the hostel. The two worst things you can say to me are: We can stay friends, and we need to talk, Pansy did both.

I accepted without thinking; it was just too weird to forsake her like that, after all these years... I found her lying on the bed with a big bloodied hole in her head. They walked in when I took the gun from her hand." It was that simple, Draco arrived too late.

"And you?" He asked.

"And me what?" Hermione retorted.

"Why are you here?"

"I already told you, I wanted to know what happened."

"No, why are you here, in Florence?" He didn't know why he cared, but he didn't want to tell her how lost she looked.

"I... met Ron."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "How is he?"

Hermione gulped. This conversation was absolutely incredible. Draco Malfoy, who used to dislike her, who used to take advantage of her slightest weaknesses to shoot her down, was, at twenty-three years old, confessing his sorrows and interrogating her about Ron. "He's fine."

"I heard he has a new girlfriend," Draco said casually, as if he was talking about the weather.

Checkmate! Straight to the heart, "Hum, yeah..." Shit, she should have known that he would find a way to hurt her.

Saved by the bell, the guard came in the room telling them that the meeting was over.

She left him without one more word.