A/N: after another long, tiring wait, I've come up with another exciting chapter, purely for your enjoyment!
Before you start reading, let me clear out some stuff:-
Legilimency is the skill to extract thoughts and memories from a person's mind, often done with intense eye contact. Occlumency is the skill for blocking legilimens from penetrating into one's mind.
This chapter is really emotional and tragic and yeah, filled with explanations and stuff. so, you betters watch out for that! Anyways, I'm not going to go on spilling out its contents for you like this to spoil the fun. go read it and find out for yourself why our hero's life is in such great peril…
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Before he left, Snape paused at the bottom of the stairs. With his back turned to Draco, he said, "I hope you know that the minute I step out this room, we will be on opposite sides."
Draco sucked in the emotion that began to surface at the mention of those words and shook his head. "Yes, I know," he said tonelessly.
"And you do know that the next time I see you, Draco, I'll kill you."
Draco nodded as the professor climbed up the stairs. "I know," he said once the door closed. "I know…"
Chapter-4: Confession
Hermione was waiting in the hallway outside the library for the professor to come out. Her strange concern for Malfoy's health after his fainting in the morning and her curiosity in Snape's uninformed visit got her thinking that maybe Malfoy had gotten himself into trouble of some sort after the seizure.
she breathed a sigh of relief when the door opened, then tensed up again when the greasy-haired professor came out.
He walked by without acknowledging her presence and disappeared down the hallway.
Hermione knew that not even been his student for 7 years and exhibiting excellent skills at potion making would fetch her a second glance from him, because he after all was the slimy, cruel, git of a potion master, Serverus Snape. It would be stupid to expect anything else from him.
She opened the door of the library and stepped inside.
Inside, Draco was tossing aside a few books onto an empty armchair. He looked up at her when she entered, stared for a second or two, and then, turned to one of the tables and began flipping through some books noisily. "What've you come here for, Granger?" he asked, partly relieved to be talking to someone who wasn't planning to kill him (yet).
"I just wanted to see how you were doing," she answered softly, with mild concern.
"As you can see, I'm fine! I haven't been falling all over the place, half dead and bleeding to be spirited back into consciousness by dumb colour-crazy aurors and beaver-toothed know-it-alls," snapped an irritant Draco, slamming shut the cover of the book, sending out a cloud of dust into the air.
"Oh," she said, feeling unbearably stupid and nosy. She felt the puncture in her pride take out all her enthusiasm and well-being. Now she was staring to feel that having concern for Malfoy was a nonsensical and fruitless thing.
She grimaced and said with sarcasm, "sorry I asked. I just forgot, Malfoy's are just the most self-sufficient people around. They don't need anybody's care."
"You've got that right. They don't need anything."
"Funny," she said with a light laugh, "it seems like just yesterday I met someone with a lonesome stare and invisible companion, trudging the hallways to find wicked ways to insult other people's pets… to compensate for the terrible losses he faces on the inside I dare say. The same person was found fainting today morning, in dire need of medical attention and assistance…so, are you sure you don't need anything or anyone?"
"I'm damn sure, Granger. But if someone cares, I can't help but lean a little on it," he added with an upward twist forming at his lips. "- Does not mean I need them."
"What if it was someone's care or concern that could save your life someday?" asked the smart Gryffindor, "won't you be needing them, then?"
All the while, he had his back towards her. He was guessing the expression on her face - would it be something signifying disgust, or growing embarrassment - if she had taken it personally.
But on her tricky question, he halted the guesswork, and turned around to see that her real expression was something beyond disgust – it was hate. For she really did hate him when he said that.
"Even if the person was a rat arse. To save your life, anyone will do, right?"
He laughed on the inside at her words, but felt rather humbled later when he realized that with her prolonged silence, he had really hurt her pride and at the same time, seen right through her.
"You care for me, don't you?" he asked, leaning against the table.
"What?" stumbled Hermione quickly, before gathering herself and grimly protesting, "of course not! I'm just worried, Malfoy. That's all," she stated, fidgeting with a side button on her robe. Her face began to heat up, and to avoid him seeing it, she moved to a nearby table, pretending to be sorting out the books.
"What are you so worried about?" he asked snidely.
"Well, nothing really…just things…"
She gave a vague reply, praying that he wouldn't ask anything more, for she didn't know how she was going to handle the situation if he saw through her again. If he ever knew that she had been concerned about his health and had been worrying about it all day, he'd probably tease her senseless about it or never look in her direction again!
"What kind of things?" he prodded on, watching her with interest.
Hermione spotted a biography lying on the table, which had to be placed into one of the top shelves. Taking in a deep breath, she reached for it and walked up to the bookcase, saying curtly, "it's none of your concern."
"Of course, it isn't any of my concerns!" cried Draco, pretending to be offended. "I'm just curious."
Hermione gave him a sideways glare and returned to the bookcase. With ill luck, she found the original place of the biography to be too high to reach with her hands, and clicking her tongue, spied the wooden ladder for sometime before pulling it towards the bookcase. She climbed onto the first few steps carefully, aware of the imbalance of her posture and the discomfort of her interfering robe.
Draco walked over and leaned against the bookcase next to her. He folded up his hands, smirking. "Worried about the war, Granger? Your personal safety? Or are you worried about me?"
At present, Hermione was most worried about the dangling length of her skirt and the coverage of her robe – but she didn't let anything show her worry and remained concentrated in making it to the top steps, repelling any thoughts relating to the particularly quirky tone of his voice.
She pushed the book into its slot, blowing off some dust from the shelf slab, then, slowly and carefully, began to make her way down….
"I'd say you are, unless you're worried about your stupid boyfriend, Potter, sad that you won't be able to have babies in the next few years because of the dark forecast of the war and all…"
Honestly, he loved the expression that came across her face just then.
Draco, you have got to hand to yourself man, you can really make the girls go mad! – He applauded himself silently.
But just as he finished thinking that little self-praising thought, Hermione stepped over the end of her robe and BAM!
She slipped on the step, lost balance and fell from the ladder with a squeal.
For a minute, Draco just stood there, staring open-mouthed at the freely falling body, unaware of what to do, then, before he knew it, he'd caught her fall.
Heroic, cliché, whatever you would call it – but he held her around the waist, trying to regain feeling in his legs which were pushed down in the force of her fall. Ouch, he thought, this was hard. Would she just stop kicking?
Hermione had covered her face in her hands, too embarrassed to even look around. She knew that she had fallen. She also knew she never reached the ground. She could feel the hold of someone around her, another warm body against her, holding her up.
She inched her fingers away from her eyes and peaked out at her savior –
DAMN!! She thought, shutting her fingers around her eye again. Damn! Damn! Double damn!
-she'd landed into Malfoy's arms!!
"Hermione, please," he said with a bit of struggle for breath, "I'd appreciate it if you'd stop kicking.- "
"You called me 'Hermione'!!" she cried out suddenly, removing her hands from her face. The thrill and disbelief of hearing him say her name overwhelmed her, temporarily making her forget their situation.
"Yes. Yes, I did," he said, "-wasn't intended, but I did. Now-"
He stared into her big, brown eyes, full of surprise, for a brief moment, admiring their beauty. They were lovely, large and soulful. He'd never seen eyes like hers before.
Hermione felt her feet touch the flooring, the grip around her waist loosening. She was so in disbelief about hearing her name from his lips that she didn't realize that he hadn't taken his hands away and was still holding her lightly.
A kind of warmth was spreading through Draco's cheeks when he saw how close they were. The only time she'd been this close to him before was in the forest, during the fog. That time, she'd cuddled into him, partly to feel his presence so that she wouldn't lose him and partly to feel the warmth of a body close by, for the chill had been excruciating.
The warmth spread down his throat and heated him inside his robes, making the room feel stuffy and hot. He wasn't quite sure why he was blushing like this, but he guessed it was something to do with the funny feeling he had stuck in his throat…
Hermione stared into the clear, silver eyes, entranced by their sparkle and light. The hazy grey outline was visible like a ring around a bottomless silver ocean. Her gaze was transfixed in their enigma and unearthly lure.
Malfoy had never been this close to her, but now, as she began to realize the small distance between them, her thoughts were whirling, scanning her memory for any instant in her life when she'd found such thrill in weakness.
And suddenly, the world around her faded, and she was whisked away into those darkening eyes…
she saw the strangest things: a tall, aristocratic man with his hair in a ponytail, pointing his wand towards a small scared boy of about 10; the cold, sneering face of a house head… a dark, moonless night in a forest, a few hooded men with their wands out, a leader rising out of blue fog in their midst, his face inhumanly scaled…
She saw the first face of Lord Voldemort. The red, snake like eyes, gaunt cheekbones, wounded slits across the ear surface…
Blocked in a hazy, dream-like world, Hermione watched fearfully as his body gained shape in the form of a wraithlike, black shadow, which disappeared into the tall, shifting grass of the clearing. Then, it struck her - she was seeing one of Draco's memories…
The form appeared to be hovering above the ground, speaking words she did not understand – snake language. Her insides did a somersault as she saw a smaller hooded figure step up in front, towards the unearthly form.
That was him, she realized. That was Draco.
Panic raked her on the inside and her heart began to beat wildly in an uncontrollably fast pace as the form glided over to him and spoke in low tones, before a taller hooded figure walked up to him and seized his left arm.
What were they going to do to him? Why wasn't Draco protesting? All kinds of crazy thoughts and worries flooded Hermione's mind. She couldn't believe that she was inside one of his memories, living such a nightmare.
The Dark Lord raised a decayed, ashen hand and moved it over the hood, which fell off to reveal a bowed silvery blonde head.
No, it couldn't…this couldn't be…this didn't happen…
Hermione's eyes welled up with tears. She placed a trembling hand on her lips and watched the boy lift his head to face the wraithlike form, fear and immovable resolute displayed across his features.
No, he didn't…thoughts turned upside down, hopes shattered. Her faith in Draco died the instant the other figure lifted up his sleeve, readying him to receive the searing Dark Mark.
The wand was placed down on his white skin.
Draco turned his head away, closing his eyes, waiting for the excruciating pain to come…
The next second, the night sky lighted up with a blaze of yellow light, which blinded even the stars. The whole forest lit up with the fluorescent glow spreading through the trees and shrubs.
….the Dark Mark had been branded onto Draco's arm….
A jolt at the back of her neck brought her back to reality. All force of her penetration was repelled and the insight into his thoughts and memories was blocked with occulemcy.
Hermione came out of the trace-like state, shaking, dazed and confused. Her insides were gripped with frozen fear.
She couldn't believe that she'd seen what she'd seen.
And all this while, she thought he was innocent…
"Granger?"
Draco's voice seemed so distant, almost unreal. The world around her was moving; the ground appeared to be shifting beneath her feet.
She caught on to Draco's arm, trying hard to steady herself. No, I couldn't…he didn't…
She didn't know why she was still protesting. The facts were clear, weren't they? She'd seen it.
But how could he-? Draco? What was he thinking?
She looked into his eyes, afraid about what would happen if she allowed herself to drown in them one more time.
The thing was, when they had made such intense eye contact, she'd unconsciously performed legilimency, allowing her to penetrate thought and see into his mind. It was completely unintentional; she wasn't exactly paying attention to what she was doing.
And he was unguarded.
"Draco, I – I-"
His face was cold and hard, looking almost murderous with the steely glint in his eyes. "What did you see?" he rasped.
Hermione sighed and looked away, trying to clear her mind. God, she'd been so wrong… it was the only thing she could think of at the moment, for her mind just seemed to be frozen by the truth.
Deciding that her views and feelings shouldn't get in the way, she looked back at him boldly. "You're a death eater, Malfoy," she said. She took her hands from him and crossed them in front.
Draco eyes darkened to a shade of murky black...
So, she'd seen it, he thought. She had seen his worst memory.
"Yes, I am."
He thought that maybe he had seen a flicker of disappointment in her eyes, or was it just movement somewhere outside the window reflected in them?
Inside him, something collapsed. He felt like he was standing in front of her, stark of integrity.
"I - I didn't want you to see that," he said dryly, trying to break the awkward silence forming between them.
But she wasn't intent on saying anything back; she didn't want to talk to him. Her whole idea about him was now horribly violated. Unknowingly, she placed a hand over her lips, silently wishing him to go away.
"Please…" he said, reaching for her arm. "Try to understand…it's not what you think."
She slapped his hand away and said in a tiny whisper, "Just go."
Draco watched her for a minute, wondering what she was about to do. Her eyes were strangely watery, they looked full.
"Just…" she leaned back on the ladder and shrugged, "just go!"
(xxx)
The afternoon sun had completely descended among the farthest row of houses, and darkness was falling over the town. Rain clouds dotted the horizon, black puffs up against the blue-black sky, lighting up with occasional lightning and thunder.
Inside her room, Hermione sat cuddled into a big green armchair, stroking her cat, which was curled up in her lap.
"And you know what he said, Crookshangs?" she asked it, tugging at its soft, pink ears.
"He said he was a deatheater…."
The cat meowed and licked its paws. It then sprang from her lap onto the tabletop, knocked down the reading lamp and leaped down towards the door through which it silkily passed and disappeared from view.
"You wouldn't understand would you?" she called back at it, "after all, you're a cat…"
Scowling, she threw her legs over the edge of the chair and was readying herself to get up when the door swung open and Ginny came in. "hey Gin," said Hermione with a small smile, sitting back up in the chair.
Ginny smiled at her and sat down at the end of her bed. She was looking oddly flustered, and slightly unhappy, though she was smiling.
Hermione noticed how she was straightening out the pleats of her skirt and fingering them down, and taking the action as a hint, asked, "Hey, what's on your mind?"
"Oh, nothing," came her soft, tired reply.
"Really? You sure?"
"Yeah. I'm sure – well, there is this one thing…"
Hermione's lips were twitching. She knew that the uncertain, distracted look on Ginny's face could indicate just one thing –
"And what's that?" she asked.
After a long, hesitant pause, Ginny looked up into her eyes and shrugged, "its Harry…"
"What did he do?" asked Hermione, her smile breaking out finally.
She knew that both of them fancied each other more than they knew themselves. She wasn't blind. She'd been witness to their love blooming right from their first days at Hogwarts. Though Ginny had realized her feeling for Harry, Harry hadn't.
"He didn't do anything, that's what he did," said girl, frowning. "I don't know why he's so clueless! He's always so clueless!"
"But he likes you! He really does! You're perfect for each other!" exclaimed Hermione trying to cheer the girl up, but her efforts were in vain.
"Likes me? Likes me? Hello! If he liked me, he would have at least picked up the hints! Like, how long does he think I'm going to wait? Till the next millennia?" cried the frustrated redhead.
"Don't say that, Ginny…maybe he's just having a tough time right now, with the war and all. He's preparing himself to fight, remember?"
Seeing the disappointed look on her face, Hermione added, "you're his girl, Gin'! You know it, though he doesn't. Meanwhile, just try to understand his position…"
Try to understand…
Try to understand…
She remembered Draco saying those words. The memory plunged through her like a slab of ice. Unknowingly, her face muscles tightened and she shifted in her chair, suddenly feeling outraged.
He asked her to understand? Understand what? The fact that he was a sodding deatheater with the mark on his arm? Boy, that was an easy thing to do!
What next? He was born with muggle parents and dumped in an orphanage at the age of three?
She looked away from Ginny, not wanting her to see her expression.
"Yeah, I try to understand. Try to understand nothing! He's mad I tell you! - maybe I should go out there and attack him!"
Hermione rolled her eyes and stared out the window. The dark rain clouds were fast approaching. A spark of lighting lit up the whole bottom layer of the cloud, making it look like a skeleton across the sky.
"Ginny, can I ask you something?"
"What?"
"Do you think we'll win this war?"
"…I definitely do! Why do you ask?"
"I don't know, I guess. I just – just have a strange feeling…I mean, what if we don't win? We're a lot to lose, aren't we?"
"Yeah, we are. But I bet Dumbledore wouldn't let that happen."
"But Dumbledore's getting old. He can't always be there for us."
"Well, we have to learn to fight for ourselves then, shouldn't we? There's no other way."
Hermione sighed.
"I would like to think so too."
(xxx)
Dinner was a quiet affair as there had been news of death eater sightings in a nearby town. Arthur Weasley strictly warned all of them against going outdoors at any time of the day and had pointed a finger particularly to the twins who wore looks of complete comprehension, pretending to be terrified of the situation.
"under no condition are you two to step outside the house unless it is with Dumbledore's knowledge of your whereabouts, you hear me?" shouted the balding father, "if any of you chose to disobey this rule, you shall find your things packed and set to leave the order before you can say 'unfair'."
Hermione's heart beat faster and faster as she thought about deatheaters in the town. She couldn't imagine what it would be like if they ever found out the Order headquarters! It would be the end of all things good.
Plus, she had other reasons for fearing them now: her escape with Draco made him cheat them, thus endangering his life too. Draco's life was on the line along with theirs.
She told herself that she didn't care, that she couldn't be bothered about someone who was so despicably narrow-minded and shallow so as to have once joined the Dark Lord in his activities, no matter what his contribution to the Order was. She told herself that Draco Malfoy was simply a directionless, pitiable, prude figure to whom she had never been linked in any way.
But her conflicting feelings about him kept on messing up her thoughts. On one hand, she knew that she was concerned about him – she had always been concerned about him.
Right from her days at Hogwarts, the boy had captivated her. His ego fights, shallow tongue, pride, jealousy for her friend's position at the school had evoked deep, agonizing sympathy in her. Sympathy that was almost hard to contain when she saw him miserable after the holidays or after receiving post. Instinct forced her to believe that he was having a hard time at home and that he was under some sort of pressure, and that was why he was acting so vilely towards her and her friends.
That was the reason why she thought he was innocent, that was the reason why she almost believed in him…his hateful nature was due to an external influence, formed by situations around him, and not because he himself was evil.
She knew that there was hope for redemption, but now, redemption itself was too late…
The dark, stormy clouds rumbled with thunder. The whole land lighted up with occasional lightning, like an X-ray across rooftops and street lamps. The cold, freezing winds of an oncoming rain shower wiped through the house.
Hermione tightened her robe around her, trying to brace herself against the cold wind. Her cheeks were dry and frozen.
She was walking along the third floor corridor, eager to get back to her room and sit by the fire when out of the blue, along with the howl of the wind, she heard a human cry.
It was muffled and appeared to be coming from one of the rooms to her left.
There was a second cry, and her ears rang with the sound…someone was in pain.
Hermione moved quickly towards a door, pressed her ears against it. No, it wasn't from this room…
The cries kept getting louder and louder, and more desperate. Hermione could hear her own heart beat just as loud and clear as she stood outside each door and listened for the noise.
Finally, she came to a door behind which she heard the crashing of a dozen glass objects. Standing outside, she hesitated, scared whether it was Draco –
She placed her hand on the doorknob, pleading with some unseen force for the cries not to be Draco's, for she was terrified of something happening to him. Something bad. Like the seizure he had in the morning….
The doorknob turned and she opened the door.
(xxx)
The room was littered with papers and other objects. A desk had been overturned; shattered pieces of glass were lying all around it. A dozen beautiful vases and glass presents were destroyed with a swift motion of a hand.
Right next to the fireplace was a disheveled looking Draco Malfoy with his face held in his hands, breathing hard. He was on his knees, shoulders shaking.
He felt a hand on his shoulder, and at once, startled by the touch, removed his hands from his face and looked up. "Granger…"
His throat went dry when he saw her look down at him like that – eyes full of compassion, eyebrows knitted with concern. He hastily rubbed down on his face the tears that had seeped out during the burning seizure and got to his knees.
Hermione was standing right next to him, her eyes never quite leaving his. She waited for him to look around at what he had done to the room, then, when his gaze was back on her, said coolly, "you've been having those seizures a lot recently. Last time, it wasn't so serious, but this time, I think you've done fairly enough damage to the surroundings to make us take you seriously…"
She handed him a handkerchief and asked him to wipe the blood from his nose.
Draco stared at her long and hard, taking the handkerchief from her.
"Why would you want to take it seriously?" he asked dryly, wiping his nose and lips. He folded back the cloth; his heart skipped a beat when he saw the dark red colour all over it. Bloody hell, he'd have to get used to that.
"Because if someone else doesn't, you won't! And that will probably get you killed! Maybe us too."
"Come on, you're starting to sound like my mother…"
He was about to turn away, putting the handkerchief in his pocket, when Hermione stopped him and said, "no, Malfoy. Your mother wouldn't have sounded like that. And stop turning away! I want the truth! What's been happening to you, Malfoy?"
"You want the truth?!" he asked raising his voice and facing her. "Fine then! I'm a deatheater about to be sentenced to death by the Dark Lord himself! I'm about to get slaughtered out there the minute I step out of this house, but you know what, I'm welcoming it coz I'm so sick of you all acting like I'm your biggest enemy! And you want to know another thing; my life is OVER as I know it, and nothings going to change the past!"
he continued sardonically, "and here's the happy part: the minute you defeat the Dark Lord, the minute he loses his powers and dies, I will die too, coz I happened to be a bloody stupid bloody deatheater and his blood runs in me!!"
He breathed hard and looked at her darkly, "was this what you expected?"
Without waiting for an answer, he came down on the corner of the bed, breathing hard. His mind had been numb from the seizure; every vein in his body had been bursting with uncontrollable negative energy. In fact, he had almost lost consciousness fighting it.
Draco had realized what the seizure actually was: it was Lord Voldemort's fury, flowing through his blood. And he was experiencing it because deatheaters shared His feelings and emotions. The Dark Mark indicated the presence of Him inside the wizard, making him His permanent supporter.
Lord Voldemort was probably furious about Draco's disloyalty and cheating, as he was the heir to the Rising Throne and an inner member of the Circle. He'd been confided in and was a valuable source of information. His betrayal would have infuriated the Dark Lord beyond anything else in the whole world, or he wouldn't have experienced such a burning seizure.
He also had reason to believe that the Dark Lord was angry about something other than him – for the past many weeks, he'd been trying to get a certain elusive stone claimed to be with the good side. The Stone of Eternal Life. Its powers gave him control over the universe as he knew it and with the stone in his hands, he could destroy any force that stood in his way, whether it be good or bad. But Voldemort has been unsuccessful at finding it and his constant failure may have sparked fury.
Draco felt unreasonably tired. Every fiber in his body was now exhausted.
He couldn't see reason in thinking or worrying.
He closed his grey eyes, taking in a deep breath.
"But that's what it is, Granger," he admitted, "that's how it's going to end."
The bed springs underneath creaked as the weight on them increased. Hermione sat down beside him. She breathed a sigh and looked at him earnestly. "I feel sorry for you, Malfoy," she said.
Malfoy looked strangely at her, but with complete understanding of what she meant. "You do?"
She nodded and continued, "all this time, I thought that maybe – just maybe you would change, that someday, you would take a side and fight your enemy boldly…but now, I've realized that you haven't changed. And – and there's no point in fighting because your biggest enemy is you yourself!"
She paused, watching Draco's expression solidify with contempt and shame.
"Draco…I – I think I understand-but you've got to be honest with me."
Draco's grey eyes, lighted by the firelight, appeared to be glinting mesmerizingly. They were focused on her, unmoving, staring at her in a way that slightly unnerved her. She could see his confusion in wanting to confide in her.
"Please," she said softly, "I can help you-"
Draco flinched at the thought.
She was trying to help him, trying to help him see light, Draco told himself a million million times.
Hermione Granger, the girl for whom he could only muster contempt, the girl to whom he could only say spiteful words and hateful insults, the girl who always paraded around with his high school enemy, wanted to help him – at this dire time in his life.
It did not make sense!
"It's just a question," she told, leaning closer, "just one simple question…"
Draco's mind went berserk with wild thoughts, hair-raising conclusions: she sincerely wanted to help him, and he really wanted someone to know. He didn't want to be treated like dirt by the house members any more, and this was the opportunity…but it didn't make sense that he should tell her anything…
"I want to know whether you made the decision with your full mind…the decision to become a deatheater."
Draco swallowed.
This is it, Draco, a voice kept telling him inside his head, this is it. This is the chance you have been waiting for! This is your chance for redemption…
Sweat formed on his eyebrows. He became dreadfully aware of her long, burning stare, determined to see right through him.
This is your last chance, Draco…your last chance to show her your motive. If you lie now, you will lose her confidence forever. If you lie now, she'll never look at you again in the same way she's looking at you right now…and you want that. You know you do..
Your last chance, Draco…
God, why was it so hard?
He clenched his fists and said, "Yes."
The minute the word left his mouth, Draco cursed himself. Damn, he thought, I did it again!
Hermione sighed. She got up and looked down at him.
"Then, you deserve to die," she said.
She got up from the bed and was about to leave the room when Draco called out, "yes, it was something I did with my full-mind. I did it because I thought it'd bring me power and give me a peace of mind… but now, I've started to think-"
"Now? You've started to think now?"
She turned back to him. "If you would have started thinking before the dark mark was branded onto your arm, then maybe, just maybe, things would have been different…"
She shrugged her shoulders and sighed, placing her hands on her hips. The strings of her heart were being twisted together, but still, she had to say the words.
(xxx)
Hermione exited the room feeling extremely down and disappointed. Her face showed the hopelessness she found in the situation.
Draco was a deatheater, he now wanted to get himself out of the mess he'd created for himself - but there was no way out other than death or suicide. The worst part was that it was causing her great anxiety and agitation, not to mention, it was her stress levels that were rising up more quickly than his.
For a moment, Hermione regretted saying such harsh words to him. She knew that she had gone over-board with her know-it-all nature, but nothing stopped her from saying what she felt at that particular moment. She couldn't believe that she'd told Draco that he deserved to die like that. It seemed almost unnatural to her, as if the words were spoken by someone other than her….
She stood at the door, her hand still resting on the doorknob, pondering over whether to go back in again and say something else to him, something hopefully more polite and stable, but she couldn't think of anything and decided that it was best if she'd didn't go pouring out her feelings any further.
Quietly, she turned around, and almost screamed when she saw Harry standing there in the shadows.
"Harry! What are you doing here?" she asked, moving towards him.
Harry was not smiling; his eyes were narrowed and glinting. The usual peace on his face was disturbed. "I'd like to ask you the same," he said, sounding cold and distant.
"I was just investigating the sounds…"
She trailed off; when it struck her like a ton of bricks that he knew the answer. The look in his eyes said it all.
"Harry…" she started, breathing uneasily.
"I heard," he snapped, "So he's a deatheater, isn't he?"
Hermione sighed.
She didn't want Harry to find out this way. Now, he'd be hating Draco more than ever, and suspecting her of being on his side…
Harry simply kept watching her, a scowl forming deeper and deeper on his lips. He sighed and stared intently into his friend's face. "Hermione, you care for him. You care for him in the way you care for me…just why?"
"I don't know."
Hermione shrugged her shoulders.
She looked down at his shoes, her head bowed with guilt.
"I'm sorry, I just don't know…"
(xxx)
That night, when the whole house was asleep and resting and the cuckoo tower was striking 12, Draco opened the door of his room and slipped outside. The invisibility cloak hanging over one arm, he tiptoed down the corridor and climbed down the stairs, carefully trying to make no noise.
The dinning chairs were all pulled up over the table, which gleamed in the moonlight pouring in through the large side window. Draco passed by the table and went into the living room, from where he collected a robe and a couple of port keys, put them into his pocket and headed to the front door exit.
The lamps were glowing brightly, spreading luminance that seemed unworldly along with the layers of moonlight. Fingers sliding against the walls, wand held outside, Draco turned around and scanned the place to ensure that he was alone, then, quietly, he put on his cloak, reached for the doorknob, and slipped out….
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A/N: AND BHAM! Our fav character is really in for it! trust Draco to ruin a perfectly good moment with a bit of his shady past! But ah, that's just him! always trying his best to put himself into the picture…
So, how do you like the story? going according to your expectations? Do remember to write down your views and opinions and send them to me via your reviews! Till then,
See ya!
Next chapter sneak preview:
"I'm afraid he's gone back because he's losing faith in himself and his ability to deal with his two sided image," said Dumbledore gravely.
"So you mean to say he's gone back to die?" asked Harry incredulously.
Dumbledore sighed. "I suppose so. Once he's within the grasp of the deatheaters, they are sure to kill him for his disloyalty. The price for disloyalty is often death."