Chapter Ten

When You're Not Looking

Hermione rose early the next morning before Malfoy could stir, and as she climbed outside to lean against the metal railing of the balcony, she sighed, looking out at the vast expanse of greyness and cloud above her.

The Lodge was too asphyxiating, but being outside was not much better, she mused, a cold feeling of dread settling in the pit of her stomach as her eyes failed in distinguishing a horizon, once more, in the distance.

She tried not to remember what had transpired the day before, tried to tell her stomach to stop feeling as though it would drop out of her body. She was stuck here for the rest of her life - well, until she saved Malfoy - and she didn't want to get into something in the meantime that was too overwhelming to keep up with.

But he had called her pretty... and 'that' suddenly made all the difference in the world...

She turned over to see that he was still lying in bed beside her, his body propped on its side so that he was facing her.

But his eyes were closed, and his pale lashes swept over his fair cheeks as he shuddered slightly in his sleep, his hand clutching his bandaged arm as though it were giving him immense pain.

She felt her heart dip for some reason, and she stretched her hand out towards his arm as the grey clouds outside suddenly lightened as though allowing her eyes passage to see him more clearly.

But there was an invisible barrier between their bodies, and her hand could not move much further than the mid-point of the width of the bed. He had obviously placed a barrier charm there, and she frowned, wondering whether he had done it for his peace of mind - or for hers.

Now 'there' was something to consider - Malfoy paying heed to her feelings?

No, she forced herself to think, withdrawing her hand and scrunching her body up for warmth beneath the covers. It had probably been safest for him anyway to put a barrier between the pureblood and mudblood, lest, God forbid, he be tainted by her.

But of course, 'kissing' a mudblood was exempt from that rule, wasn't it? It had certainly been the case for him the previous night.

She passed a hand over her lips and closed her eyes, thinking of the pure agony he had rendered her under with his slow kissing and hoarse whispers the night before. What had gone wrong with him, anyway, and why was he acting as though they were more than just friends?

For that fact, more than just 'enemies'?

And he had called her 'pretty'. Not foul, not buckteeth, not mudblood. 'Quite pretty', though she didn't exactly know how that was different from if he had just called her 'pretty' alone.

She felt an urge to get up from the bed all of a sudden, and she moved towards the bathroom, braving past her inner protests as she closed the door behind herself and regarded her face in the mirror.

This had been the first time in a while that she had been superficial enough to scrutinise her facial features, and she sighed, noting the stark paleness of her taut skin, the dark brown circles that had manifested themselves below her blazing brown eyes, the dryness of her curls and thinness of her cracked, pale pink lips.

And she knew then, with a grimace at her weathered face in the mirror, that there was no way in hell that a person who had gone out with Parvati Patil, would ever seriously look twice at a plain Jane like her.

Unless that person were the epitome of virtue and decency.

Or blind, of course.

She sighed, hating herself for caring about his opinion so much, but it suddenly mattered to her, he suddenly mattered to her, like he had never mattered before, and maybe that was because they were the only ones in this together, or that she couldn't help but start to feel... alive... ever since he had kissed her and touched her in those ways.

And that suddenly seemed to sustain her, like it had never done with Ron, a time when she had had her dreams and goals to keep her going as well.

A lone tear escaped her eye, and she felt like crying, feeling as though all of her ambitions, her hopes and aspirations as a young witch in Hogwarts had suddenly dissolved to the mere goal of one day saving Malfoy's life, so that she herself may die peacefully in the knowledge that she was no longer indebted.

And with no information from the spellbook to aid her in reaching this goal, she knew that she was doomed, that they were doomed, to live like this forever, for surely Malfoy couldn't have been enjoying this any more than she was despising it.

Perhaps'despise' was too harsh a word, she granted, for it had been bearable, sometimes even pleasant, talking to Malfoy sometimes. Apart from yesterday, when it had been downright frightening.

But he was not Harry or Ron, and a tear escaped her eye as she clinked her empty mug of butterbeer on the metal railing, looking down at her pale, ashen hands as she ached to hold them close to her and hear their voices once more.

True, she had only seen Ron a few weeks ago, but Harry… it seemed like eons since she had last seen his emerald eyes glisten from the bottle-frames of his glasses…

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Hermione was making her way to the boys' dormitories in Gryffindor Tower early evening that day, finding it hard to ignore the rather exasperating insinuations and protests from Parvati and Lavender that she was only going up there for one reason, and that it was unfair that she should exercise her power as girlfriend of Gryffindor House Captain in such a manner.

She rounded on them angrily, sparks flying from her form as she glared at them.

"In case you two have forgotten," she began, controlling her fury as Parvati and Lavender stood before her, looking as clueless as ever. "In case you two have forgotten, I myself am Head Girl, and thus any power held by Ron as House Captain is surpassed by my authority as Head Girl. And my visit has nothing to do with frivolous romantic pursuits, anyway."

Parvati and Lavender looked at each other, smiling conspiratorially.

"Oh, but of course, Hermione, we forgot," Parvati said grandly, looking at Hermione again with a glint of amusement in her eye. "You and Ron have the pick of the Captains' as well as the Heads' rooms. Of course you wouldn't choose the Gryffindor boys' dormitories for such matters."

Hermione rolled her eyes at them, and they giggled furiously, as she briskly swept past them and made her way to the boys' dormitories.

Harry was busy putting clothes and food into a small bag, as she had repeatedly advised him to do so despite his dismissive opposition to it – "Hermione, I'm going to go and fight Voldemort, do you really think it will matter if I'm wearing fresh underwear or not?" – and she was placated as she saw that he had indeed taken her advice. Ron was sitting on Harry's bed, and as he saw Hermione come in, he smiled and patted the space on the bed next to him for her to join them.

She sat down, feeling calmed as Ron put his arm around her shoulder, and she clasped his hand in hers, desperately telling herself not to start crying.

"So, you nearly done?" she asked Harry briskly, and as he finally realised that she was there, he smiled distractedly at her.

"Yeah, I suppose so," he murmured, turning around quickly to go to his drawer before returning with the photo album containing his parent's pictures in it from when they were younger.

Hermione stiffened, and swallowed the sob that was slowly climbing its way up her throat, and Harry tried to smile reassuringly at her.

"I might need it now more than ever, eh?" he said lightly, placing the album gently into his bag.

Hermione exchanged glances with Ron quickly, a sense of sympathy passing between their eyes, as Hermione placed a hand over Harry's hand, and saw his eyes close suddenly.

"You're not alone in this, Harry," she began, and he opened up his eyes to look at her, and she suddenly realised that they seemed red and swollen under the firelight. "I know you don't want us to come along with you, but you're not alone in this, so make sure you take Hedwig with you so that you can write to us if you need anything."

Ron remained silent, and Harry laughed croakily, withdrawing his hand from Hermione's grasp to do up the clasps on his bag.

"I know, Hermione," he said quietly.

"Just because you go alone, doesn't mean that you 'are' alone," Hermione emphasized, looking at Harry carefully.

"I think he gets the picture, Hermione," Ron started gently, but Hermione felt as though he had winded her in the stomach, and fell silent.

Harry saw that she had suddenly become withdrawn, and he sighed, moving over to where Hermione and Ron sat to kneel in front of them on the floor.

He took one of Hermione's hands in his, and she reluctantly looked down at him, suddenly hating the pull of gravity as noiseless tears poured down her cheeks in an unstoppable flow.

"I thought you told me to stop being daft, that everything was going to be alright?" Harry said delicately, and Hermione laughed amid her tears, rolling her eyes at him. "And you're absolutely right, Hermione, you hit the nail on the head, like you always do. I'm going to find those last Horcruxes, Voldemort is going to die and then we can all start living, really 'living' our lives when I get back."

His use of the word 'when', instead of 'if', made her sobs more audible, and Harry sighed, before reaching a hand to her face to wipe away the tears.

"You've got to be strong, Hermione, you and Ron," he urged her, and she looked at him quickly as a tear suddenly escaped his own eye. "Please, I'm asking you that you stay strong, because if I don't have your support, I'll be defeated before I even leave this room."

She felt herself nod quickly, anything to compound Harry's sense of determination at that point. Ron placed a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder.

"We're with you all the way, mate," he said rather sturdily, and Hermione knew that he was stopping himself from becoming teary too.

Harry smiled and nodded, before giving Hermione's hand a final squeeze as he rose from the floor, pulling his bag over his shoulder. Hedwig clinked her beak against the metal cage she was housed in, and Harry gave her a morsel of food before turning around to Hermione.

"You think Hedwig would follow me, if I let her out of her cage?" he asked.

Hermione laughed, wiping her face with the sleeve of her robes as she rose from the bed to move towards Harry.

"Of course she would, Harry, she adores you," she said, smiling at Ron as Ron came to stand next to her.

Harry grinned, patting Hedwig on the head in her cage.

"I just don't think this is the time to keep her here in a cage," he mused.

Hermione looked at Harry bitterly.

"No, neither do I," she said pointedly, before she could stop herself.

Harry looked back at her, and his gaze had become less open and warm.

"Hermione, don't get like that," Ron said, speaking for Harry as she looked to him instead.

She sighed, feeling utterly helpless as she kneeled before Hedwig's cage to pat her on the head.

"I'm sorry, Harry, I know I can't come," she submitted finally. "You know I will miss you a lot, though."

Harry laughed, just as Hermione captured him in a hug before she could stop herself, beckoning Ron to join them, as he somewhat reluctantly came forward.

"And I'll miss the two of you," Harry conceded, as they all let go. "But I'll expect you to organize a massive Gryffindor party when I get back."

This time Hermione managed to suppress her tears, as Harry patted Ron on the back with one hand while squeezing Hermione's hand with the other, and then he was off, clutching his bag and Hedwig's cage.

Hermione felt Ron kiss her on the forehead as he pulled her towards him.

"And he's gone, just like that," she said forlornly, and Ron sighed and only squeezed her tighter.

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She gasped, suddenly feeling the need to inhale volumes of air into her body, if only to chill the gnawing sense of sorrow that had begun to manifest itself within her. Her body shook, and she was shivering, as she looked at the ground below the balcony as suddenly inviting and beckoning.

A hand came from behind her to wrap consolingly around her neck and shoulders, and she knew it was Malfoy, as she turned to limp jelly in his hands so that he had to hold her up.

Her sobs became more violent, as she thought of Ron, and how he had held her like this when Harry had left them forever. That was when their trio had been split, that was the last time she had seen Harry, and it ached her very bones that she had not done more to ensure the success of his mission.

They could have been celebrating now, the three of them, up in Gryffindor Tower. But instead, she was the only one of three that was alive, and she couldn't help but think why she had been chosen to continue with her life, why Ron had believed that she was capable of ensuring Voldemort's defeat in the end.

She couldn't think of anyone more unworthy.

"Hermione," she heard her name escape Malfoy's lips, and she was too upset to care about feeling startled.

"Why did you save me, Malfoy, why?" she cried, her body racked with sobs and anguish as her hand squeezed his forearm wrapped around her. "I don't deserve it, so many other people could have been saved –"

"Hush," he said softly, and she inhaled air deeply, as Malfoy spun her body around and brought her closer towards him in a hug.

She grasped onto him for dear life, breathing in and out forcefully, feeling cold air rush within her and escape out as warm air, knowing that she was still very alive, as her heart pounded within her chest as Malfoy's hands supported her head and back.

"Why can't you answer me?" she hissed to his neck, her throat choking up as she felt Malfoy's hands tangle themselves within her hair. "Why did you do it?"

"Because," he started, and she quickly looked at him, startled that he had decided to answer. "Because… you didn't deserve to die, and I couldn't bear that stain on my conscience."

His eyes regarded her face, his blue-grey orbs sweeping over her tear-stricken red cheeks and bloodshot eyes. She knew she probably looked very unattractive, and she pulled away from him suddenly, feeling a sense of isolation and unease as she considered herself being held by him only seconds before.

"But so many others," she said, her eyes flashing disbelievingly at his logic. "So many others died that day, and before. Did they deserve to die? Did they not deserve some mercy as well, Malfoy?"

He looked away from her, as though she had struck him.

"I told you before, Granger, that sometimes, it takes one some time to develop oneself," he started, his eyes meeting hers once again. "This is not my excuse, but my folly, for not knowing myself and my true dilemma earlier on."

"It doesn't take much to distinguish evil from good, Malfoy!" she chided coldly, feeling a sense of satisfaction mixed with guilt at the thought of Malfoy crumbling under her words.

He sighed.

"Perhaps you are right, that that is the intrinsic ability of humans. All I can say in my defense, is that, that ability was squashed out of me at a very young age. Only now am I beginning to get a grasp of what you say everyone should inherently know."

An image of Lucius Malfoy passed through her mind, and she couldn't help but feel slightly sorry for Malfoy.

"You have sacrificed much, and I don't wish to prove that it was in vain," she said, looking away from Malfoy as he regarded her crumpling body before him with sympathy. "But I am dying, Malfoy, in my heart, and if I stay in this Lodge any longer, I think I shall be dead very soon. Please let me go with you, wherever you go, and I promise not to prove nuisance or be critical of your journeys."

His pity-filled eyes suddenly hardened, and his lips thinned to a perfectly horizontal line on his face.

"My intention," he began, his voice very cold and his eyes flashing scarily, "by keeping you here, was not to prompt your death, but to keep you alive."

Hermione started speaking, but Malfoy cut her off.

"For once in your life, shut up, Granger!" he roared, and Hermione felt her lip tremble as she quelled the sobs from reaching her mouth. "You are… a bloody freak, Granger! I save your life, and this is how you act? There must be something intensely wrong in your head, and –"

"Malfoy!" she exclaimed, her eyes narrowing to a glare. "Stop, before you say something you might regret."

He looked at her, his gaze the embodiment of frost.

"I think I might have done much already, that I now regret," he said icily.

And he swept past her, roughly taking his bag from the room and slinging it over his bandaged shoulder, before exiting and slamming the door behind himself very hard indeed.

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Hermione muttered some harsh expletives in the general direction of the door to Malfoy's room, before taking her empty cup and lunging it from the side of the balcony to the ground below.

She cursed, realizing suddenly that the mug in question was actually a reasonably good one, and she sighed, before repairing it and levitating it back to herself on the balcony.

She did not want to smash the cup as much as she wanted to smash a certain other thing, she mused coldly, walking back into Malfoy's room and washing the cup vigorously under cold water.

"Well, that was certainly the last straw," she snarled, placing the cup to dry on the counter before taking a swig of butterbeer straight from the large bottle itself.

It did not seem to have its usual calming affect on her, and she groaned, wondering what she could possibly do to pass the day until they could continue their argument after he would return later that night.

But would he indeed return? He had certainly looked very angry, and more enraged than usual after one of their fights.

She rolled her eyes, and sat down at the table, facing the empty cream wall before her.

So what if he did not come back? Did that mean that she was stuck in here forever?

No, she mused, a thought striking her as she glanced out the window.

Today was a lovely day, compared to the black clouds and cold zephyrs that had consumed every other day that she had been here.

A lovely enough day, she contemplated, to take a walk in the village.

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As Hermione exited the Lodge, she could not help but raise her hood over her face, as Malfoy's stern reprimand kept playing over her mind.

It's not candy and roses out there, Granger!

Though she didn't quite care for his regard for her, there was no doubting that there was some truth in what he had said; this world certainly was not made of candy and roses.

Or, not anymore, anyway.

She suppressed her feelings of guilt at leaving the Lodge, glanced around left and right suspiciously, before continuing on her way, clutching the clasp of her cloak around her neck very tightly as she walked on the cobblestone footpath that she presumed would lead her to the village.

This was an ancient magical town, she knew, she had seen pictures of them in the books she sometimes perused over in Hogwarts. They were very few of these towns left, Hogsmeade being one of them. But this was certainly not Hogsmeade, or maybe it was, as she knew that Hogsmeade would certainly not look as quaint and idyllic had it been surrounded by the dark clouds and inescapable sense of foreboding that now enveloped her and her surroundings.

She shivered, walking faster as she saw in the near distance signs of smoke emerging, and she desperately hoped that it was smoke from a chimney rather than the smoke from a razed city of desolation and ruins.

She was relieved to note that her hopes were indeed confirmed, as she happened upon a small village that seemed to be rather busy with noise and commotion.

"Looking glasses!" a voice called, as Hermione entered what she presumed to be the village markets.

She gasped and raised her hood further over her head, taking in her surroundings as her heart sank within her body.

So this is what life was like after Voldemort had triumphed.

Certainly, there were markets, and people were still alive.

But the atmosphere was quite medieval, and people roamed around wearing torn garments while children cried incessantly from the edges of the dark and winding streets. The village was rampant with smoke, dust and debris, and she found it quite difficult to breathe, as she intrinsically moved away from the city centre, bumping into a pole behind her.

"Ah, a fragile girl like you, you look like you might need some Evil Repellants!" a man said, as Hermione turned around to regard him.

He was sitting in front of what seemed like a hut, with many intricate objects laid before him on the ground. His face was obscured with grime and oil, and he grinned up at Hermione, and she gasped to note that he had only a few teeth remaining.

"Evil what?"

"Henry, don't prey on little girls like that!" a woman's voice came, as a middle-aged portly woman emerged from the hut behind the man.

She looked at Hermione, raising a thin eyebrow and directing a steely, malicous gaze towards her.

"And you, get out of here!" she snapped, raising her wand up at Hermione.

Hermione quickly moved away, her heart pounding as she bumped into something else as a strange, musty smell entered her nose.

"Watch it, woman!" a voice snarled at her, and she saw a man behind her with a pale and pointed face that looked just like Malfoy, so much so that she sprang away, startled by the resemblance.

But his hair was more of a dirty blonde colour, and he seemed not to have a left arm at all, and Hermione mumbled a quick apology, before running away from the village, back towards the Lodge.

So this is what Malfoy had been protecting her from, she thought, as her heart pounded in her chest as she ran and ran. The village had been horrible, utterly grotesque, with its darkness and medieval surroundings.

But as she was soon safely inside the Lodge, and closing the door of Malfoy's room behind her, she remembered Malfoy's last words to her. And among the feelings of disgust and repulsion she felt for the village, she was somewhat placated by the way that she had extracted some revenge on Malfoy at long last.

Hope you enjoyed that rather long chapter, and please review :)