It was 2:14 in the morning when she started screaming. His eyes opened unceremoniously, already knowing her routine. Already knowing how he couldn't bring himself to silence the room, and block her out. She always had nightmares, the kind that made his skin crawl, despite her reckless combination of sleeping draughts, calming draughts, and some sort of muggle medicine that she told him was for anxiety.
He didn't know the first sodding thing about muggle medicine, but he asked her if it was safe. She'd dodged the question.
He sat up in the bed, sheets bunched around his waist. It would be take longer for her to get to sleep tonight. His words from earlier gnawed at him, how he'd mentioned he wouldn't do things for her if he didn't care. Staying awake while she was reliving the war was one of those things. It just didn't feel right to silence the room and sleep as if she weren't spasming in her own bed, screaming at an unknown face.
If she knew, she'd throw her arms around his neck, and her bottom lip would tremble as she fought the urge to cry. He knew that, and that's precisely why she didn't know about the little things. He shouldn't have even told her how he thought about her everyday; it only made it harder on both of them. Granger saw the best and the worst in him, and accepted him all the same.
He fucking hated it.
She used to be warm. She used to smile all the time, and while she smiled now, he knew they were fake. He knew she was breaking inside, collapsing in on herself and there wasn't a damn thing he could do to help her. They were still children, but they felt like they'd aged a decade in the last few years. He knew that behind her carefully constructed facade, she was itching for something. Anything. The world was peaceful, too calm for her.
Draco groaned, raking his fingers through his hair. For someone who thought he had a way with words, he finally had nothing he could have told her. He knew how easy it could be if he'd marched back into her bedroom and sat her down. He knew she'd spent a long while thinking of his last words, as he knew he'd done the same.
He'd counted on Granger believing he didn't care, but to hear her say it outloud. Fuck, if it didn't feel like she'd just plunged a knife into his heart. She'd always been different. Brilliant, and she was aware of how he felt (he'd made a mess of things by being so forward), but she didn't push.
He really hadn't been sure what had drawn him to her in the first few years, but he chalked it up to the fact that she was a mudblood. And that he needed to reign superiority over her. As if it had worked. She beat him in every class, every year.
Then fourth year came, and he saw the changes he'd elected to ignore. He remembered very clearly when the Dark Mark was cast, and he could never forget the way his heart hammered in his chest when she was about to do what she did best: throw herself headlong into danger with her Gryffindor pals. He didn't stop himself from telling her to keep her bushy head down, but to be quite frank, it wasn't that bushy anymore.
Then of course, the Yule Ball, and he realized her uniform was quite baggy, hiding a feminine figure. With Pansy on his arm, demanding his attention at an annoying fourteen years old, he hadn't been completely obvious. All he could say was that Krum was the lucky one, to be able to be open about his relationships.
By the time Voldemort put the mark on his arm, he'd masted occlumency, courtesy of Snape. It was the only thing that kept him alive, and didn't out him as a traitor. No, he found he did a rather good job of declaring that himself. Sixth year was the hardest. Being tasked to kill Albus Dumbledore, and get the Death Eaters into Hogwarts took it's toll on his mental and physical health. He found he barely slept anymore.
Even then she never left his head.
Granger was quick to point out that he hadn't called her mudblood in a while, and asked if he were losing his pureblood edge. Knowing Theo had told her made the conversation fall into place, amongst other things he'd yet to learn. It was after the Amortentia lesson, conveniently scheduled on Valentine's Day. She'd already known by then. Granger brought it up in private, during prefect patrols, and as if she weren't already suffocating him with her scent, she had to bring up the possibility that he didn't loathe her as much as he pretended.
The fact that he'd called her every slur in the book after that, and she'd bloody known what he was hiding, made him want to break everything in the room. Even if he'd known he'd been made, nothing could have changed. He couldn't have talked to her, not with certain death lingering over the Malfoys. The relationship with his father had been in a downward spiral since Voldemort returned.
He wanted to protect his mother; he was still sure if it were anyone, he would be the one to take his father's life, and beyond that, he wanted Hermione Granger as far from him as possible. He heard about her, clearly, from within Hogwarts.
When the three Gryffindors weren't on the platform, his stomach dropped. It was expected; their closest friends didn't bat an eyelash at the missing seats, nor did they breathe a word when questioned.
So when the first rumor dropped through the ranks of Death Eaters, trickling down into his classmates, the world broke on it's axis. While he couldn't say he knew her personally, he'd assumed what she stood for. Light, hope, and all the other shit that came with being a member of The Order.
Hermione Granger had killed a Death Eater when confronted.
She wasn't just an annoying pest to Lord Voldemort anymore, as he said. Draco had sat in silence one afternoon at in his childhood home. Umbridge sent him through the floo network, to attend to family matters. He listened with a blank face, but he could not believe what he was hearing. Dolohov weaved the story under the effects of veritaserum, and whatever he thought he knew, simply wasn't true.
In Godric's Hollow, they'd found Granger and Potter, visiting his parents' graves, and she warned them. Dolohov had put the memory inside of a pensieve, and once he was alone, Draco couldn't hide from his curiosity.
There was nothing to share, besides that she had snapped. So came an order to treat her as a lethal opponent. Draco had casted an avada more times than he cared to tell, but he always remembered how many. The crushing guilt kept him human, kept him remorseful, but Narcissa Malfoy was worth all the lives he'd take. But he hoped he never had to live with the guilt for years to come.
Malfoy listened for rumors about her, boasting loudly how he hoped he'd be the one to kill her to maintain his facade.
Then against every assumption he'd made, she was caught by snatchers and deposited roughly onto the floor of his drawing room. Bellatrix called for him to identify, and he lied, badly, but lied. As he'd told her moments earlier, there were a lot of things he'd do differently if he could go back. He'd murder Bellatrix, but before that, he'd have gotten his mother into a safe place.
But if he could go back to the beginning, the hesitant time before being branded by the dark mark, Draco would have told Albus Dumbledore and switched sides.
The present almost seemed harder than being in a state of emergency constantly. Fighting for his life, that he could do without so much a thought. Coming back to Hogwarts as if it were any other year just wasn't as simple as his mother had tried to reassure him. From the moment McGonagall asked him to assume the Head Boy position, the same spot he'd held a year earlier (under very different circumstances) he was sure that fate would never be so kind to let him out alive.
He'd been pardoned from a stint in Azkaban, thanks to the irritating witch across the dorm from him. He was under careful surveillance, but he found it wasn't so stifling when you had nothing to hide. His mother was breathing, keeping herself busy with maintaining house, and was slowly re entering the wizarding world. The prospect of her entering the public eye with no one beside her made his stomach churn.
No one had to remind him his father was still uncaptured. In truth, there were a few reasons he hadn't personally replied to Hermione's gift for his birthday. For one, he was a sodding idiot, and he didn't stop to think it might hurt her. For two, he wasn't home. He hadn't been home since the end of the trial, and Narcissa swore to never tell Granger. She was still an insufferable know it all, and she would have gotten her way. And he couldn't watch her fight for her life against his father one last time. To no avail, because he never found Lucius, who was now missing once again after breaking into the manor.
Her silence was deafening as the the cold draft of the room settled over him. Hermione was fast asleep again, and he knew from the previous weeks, that she wouldn't wake until sunrise.
XXXX
Blaise was the first to know they had a fight, as she cursed him out in the middle of the hallway for even mentioning having her sit at the Slytherin table that next morning. "Are you mental? Did you ignore everything I just told you?" She was yelling now.
"Okay, okay, okay." He rambled, clapping a hand over her mouth. "Believe me I heard you. Everybody in this wing heard you." Her cheeks were flushed as she swatted his hand away. "Why don't you tell me what happened?" He asked her in a much quieter tone. "This sounds like it's more than just a row you've had."
"I'm an idiot." She mumbled under her breath as he led her to an alcove where they wouldn't be heard. "You remember how Theo said to watch him during the Amortentia lesson?"
He chuckled. "As if any of us could forget. We've been making bets ever since on when Draco would give in."
"What did you bet?"
"That he would find you during the war. Hogwarts was so bad last year, and I think hearing the news about you kept him sane, just knowing you were alive. When he heard about Godric's Hollow, Theo was sure he was going to take off."
Hermione couldn't comment on that, as Theo had told her in one of his many letters that Malfoy took special care to hear about her. And she knew he'd seen the memory of the first avada she'd ever used. "Can you keep a secret for now? You can't even tell Theo or Pansy."
"I'm the only one who keeps secrets around here."
"You won that bet." She said softly, feeling a weight lift off of her. "He found me in the Chamber of Secrets right before the end. I'll spare you the details, alright. We kissed, and to make matters worse, he tells me how I should marry Ron, or some other bullshit about having the life I always wanted. He made me a promise, and it was that we could talk after the war. He told me he had a present for my birthday and it was a petty fight."
"What did he say?"
"He told me how of course he'd return the favor since I'd sent him a gift for his birthday and then I yelled at him how I couldn't tell since he never replied." Blaise frowned. "I took him the wrong way, and then he asked me if I was raised with any manners and I blew up on him. He knows about Theo and I."
Blaise's eyes shot open. "That explains his pissy attitude this morning." Hermione nodded.
"He told me he didn't care, but it's a shock." Blaise nodded. "I feel like shit for even saying anything." She told him how she'd combusted, all her frustrations coming out, directly at him. She told him, despite her humiliation, how she'd accused Malfoy of not fighting for her. His last words were still ringing in her ears.
"He's not mad at you, Hermione."
"He'd better not be, especially since I walked in on him and Pansy in the prefects bath in fifth year." Blaise snorted. "That's neither here nor there. He's not mad, but it would be so awkward to sit across from him as if nothing happened."
"Would you rather sit with Ron or Draco?" She glared at him. "I'm not going to let you sit by yourself."
"I'd rather be myself." He shook his head, and she sighed. "Fine. I'll sit with you all today. It's not like it can get any worse." It was something she knew she shouldn't have said, because it can, in fact, get worse.
XXXXXX
At the beginning of the term, there had been some laughs over the newest Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. There had been some jokes, mostly from Theo, of how they would be making daisy chains instead of learning how to fight. Hermione Granger wasn't surprised easily anymore, and the fact that Pomona Sprout was their newest professor didn't cause her to so much as bat an eye.
She'd heard how they needed someone like Alastor Moody, an ex auror, and someone with a firm hand. Certainly not the Hufflepuff head of house. She'd already heard how since she'd spent years in Herbology, she'd never be able to hurt a fly.
Well, they were bloody wrong. Hufflepuff, as the Sorting Hat said, are kind and unafraid of toil. What the Sorting Hat didn't sing to you on the first day of the term each year, was how honey badgers were not to be trifled with. She watched Goyle try to saunter into their duels in the second week of school, boasting how their own professor couldn't even best him. A fact altogether laughable, since Hermione was certain an untrained monkey could best the likes of Gregory Goyle.
With a mischievous smile, and a twinkle in her eyes, Professor Sprout used non verbal magic to knock Goyle to the wall, besting him in combat before he ever had a chance to use a spell.
There were no more jokes of daisy chains, and how she'd be better suited to remain in Herbology. Sprout had the habit of choosing Hermione for demonstrations ( she was Head Girl after all ) but today was different. Over the years, she'd tackled every area of magic that she could, excluding Divination.
In white chalk there was a spell written across the black board, and she knew her words to Blaise earlier that morning had tempted fate.
Expecto Patronum.
"Miss Granger, would you mind demonstrating?" Professor Sprout called, and she gripped her quill too tightly, bending it beyond repair. "Miss Granger?"
"I can't, Professor. Ginny Weasley can." Ginny caught on fast enough, nodding her head.
"Yours is beautiful to see, Miss Granger. I simply love otters." Hermione swallowed, shuffling in her seat. "Why can't you demonstrate?"
"Because I can no longer conjure a patronus." She answered and the smile slipped from Sprout's face. "You need a happy memory to conjure a corporeal patronus, and while I have happy memories, I'm just not able to cast the charm now. I'm sorry." The truth was out there, and her professor's gasp caused a scowl to settle on her face.
To conjure a patronus meant you were on the right side, part of the light as the Order frequently used them as a means to communicate. To have lost the ability to produce that tiny otter anymore...it hit her hard. Behind her, Goyle sat with a small group of boys, who reluctantly tolerated him, and they were laughing under their breath.
"Is there a problem, Goyle?" Ginny snapped, turning around in her seat with a pointed glare.
"I just think it's funny how Granger can't even conjure a patronus charm after all her bullshit about being on the right side. Did you use to killing curse too many times?"
Her chair screeched against the floor as she pushed away from the desk, turning with a harsh glare. "Would you like to know what I think is funny?" She asked sweetly, her hand curling into a fist. "I think it's utterly hilarious how Voldemort was only impressed with your performance as a Death Eater when it wasn't even you. It was me, some filthy little mudblood, who used a polyjuice potion." The grin fell from his face and Ginny was still beside her. "You have anything else you'd like to say?" His friends were silent, looking away from her burning eyes.
"You'd better watch your back, mudblood." He sneered at her.
She scoffed. "No matter what world we're in, I'll never be afraid of you."
Bringing up that very heated memory wasn't a good idea. She was warming up to the prospect of not looking over her shoulder every second, wondering if Lucius Malfoy was beneath some kind of disguise. He'd been very clear in his threats on the Hogwarts grounds, if you could call the rubble that, in the midst of the chaos.
He swore on the Malfoy name he was going to kill her like the worthless mudblood she was, and he'd murder his own son just as well. While he wasn't able to enter Hogwarts, she still never felt safe. Especially now that she reminded Goyle of what had to be the worst fucking day of his life. She expected a stray curse around every corner, but they never came.
"What happened in Defense Against the Dark Arts?" She shrieked, several books tumbling from her arms as she jumped. "For fucks sake." He groaned. Malfoy stood off to her right, hands shoved in the pockets of his robes. "Why are you so jumpy?"
"Figured you were Goyle, and you were about to murder me." She responded dryly. "What do you want? I thought we were ignoring each other."
"I was never ignoring you, Granger. You made that choice all on your own." He bent down to gather the books she'd all but thrown while she stood there.
"Right, that's why you left last night." She stated. "It doesn't matter. Nothing happened in Defense Against the Dark Arts."
"I know I've told you." He drawled. "You're a shitty liar. Pansy told me, who heard from your other Weasley friend."
"Ginny." She corrected. "Her name is Ginny."
"I don't care. Goyle left something for you in our common room; he followed me in under a disillusionment charm. I wouldn't ask you a question I didn't already know that answer to." She rolled her eyes.
"What did he do then?"
"He tried to leave a death eater mask on the coffee table." She stared at him, her mouth going dry. "It's still there. I assumed you'd want to see for yourself." She shook her head, keeping her eyes away from his.
"Get rid of it, or give it to McGonagall. Let me guess, the mouth looks like it's been stitched shut?" He nodded. "It belongs to his father; I killed him." Draco's eyes widened, only slightly.
"Granger, I didn't know." She shrugged.
"You'll find there is quite a bit you don't know, but it happened during the war, when I used the polyjuice potion to transform into Goyle." He set the books back on the table beside her. "I know you listened for updates about me; there's not point in saying you had no idea."
"Theo told you?"
"Theo always sent me letters and he had a habit of telling me about you. I imagine it's because of the.." She trailed off. How did she put it into words? "He mentioned how you listened for what I was doing, and how you watched Dolohov's memory."
"Should I not have?" He asked her then. She turned away without an answer. "Granger, we can't ignore eachother forever."
"I can certainly try. I need to be alone. Goyle was in our dorm, where I sleep, and left his dead father's memento. It's a threat, and I don't appreciate threats." She stacked the books inside of her bag, that still held the undetectable extension charm. "Whatever you want to talk about, I don't think it matters all that much right now.
"You didn't let him just walk out, did you?" She asked quietly, her back turned.
"You know I would never let him walk away." His voice was gentle, and she had only heard him speak tenderly when they were alone. "I changed the password to the one we discussed earlier this year." She nodded, her heart clenching as if the tenderness in his voice mattered.
What did matter was that while she might worry about how to defend herself against the likes of Malfoy's father, who had experienced what muggles liked to call, a psychotic break, she was not worried about Gregory Goyle. In fact, she'd already been down that road once, and it was easily traveled by.
XXXX
Look at me, I actually stuck to my update schedule. I hope you enjoy! Leave m a review of what you think. My pagebreaks didn't load properly through my iPad I apologize
-Kelsey.