Chapter 11

A Bloody Awful Train Ride

He couldn't believe how pretty she'd gotten over the summer. He was glad she'd taken his advice not to cut her hair, it was a mass of wayward curls but it was one of the things that made her...well, Granger.

She wasn't wearing the ruddy old jumpers and jeans like she had last year, she actually looked rather like a girl, he wanted to think her new look was because of him, he was attractive for his age, what girl wouldn't want him to think she was pretty? But he knew Granger too well, she wasn't like that, he'd seen the look on her face as she stared, longingly, at Lockhart, she only thought of him as a friend, bookworms like her saw no reason to dress up for someone who's just a friend. Of course, it was a good thing too, he oughtn't be thinking such ridiculous thoughts, really any idiot would think he fancied her.

Which was not the case. Not at all. He merely wanted her to put effort into her clothes for him and no-one else; he was a Malfoy after all.

He was sitting in his cabin on the Hogwarts express, Crabbe and Goyle were stuffing their faces with cakes, Licorice Wands and that bubblegum that wouldn't burst for days, while Parkinson was droning on about something, he'd lost interest in what she was saying long ago, in fact he think it was the very moment she opened her mouth. Draco wondered if the raven-haired girl ever got tired of her own voice, he highly doubted it, from her constant nagging and moaning about everything, he did think that maybe she was proud of that blasted, powerful pair of lungs she had on her and decided to make it known to everyone. Either that or she was making up for what she was lacking in the mental capability department. And there was loads to make up for there. He'd never had such un-stimulating conversations with anyone else. Maybe it was just Granger, she had an unusual way of making everything she said seem interesting, maybe it was her awkward babbling or her bossy attitude but in comparison to her, no-one was good enough.

Suddenly the door slid open and there she was, about to say something when Parkinson cut her off, it was so like the first day they met,

"What do you want, Mudblood?"

Granger gulped, a deep, worried frown marring her lovely features, something was wrong, she wouldn't usually barge in there like that or completely ignore Parkinson, her big dark eyes were fearful and boring into his, he wanted to move, to do something, but he couldn't, their friendship wasn't allowed,

"What's wrong?" he asked, sounding indifferent and concerned at the same time,

"Harry and Ron...I can't find them anywhere, they're-"

"Get it through your thick head." Parkinson stood then to roughly push the girl out of the cabin, much to Draco's anger, "We. Don't. Care." she said the words slowly and carefully, emphasising each one, before slamming the door shut.

Draco got to his feet, glowering at the Slytherin girl with enough hate to make her recoil, if looks could kill she would've long been doomed, he stepped out of the cabin to find Granger leaning against one of the walls a few rows down, the frown never left her face, her arms crossed over her chest, her lips turned down at the corners, she was quite shaken about this, wasn't she? He couldn't blame her really, evil seemed to follow Potter everywhere, it'd killed his parents, it'd possessed a teacher and released a troll into the school that had attempted to attack her, it'd been in the Dark Forest that night, and now this.

"Are you alright?" he said, praying she couldn't decipher the look on his face,

"I'm worried."

"Why? It's only Potter."

Did he always have to be so childish? Couldn't he at least try to comfort her and not make nasty remarks about her other friends? After all they'd been through last year, the fights atop the Astronomy Tower, the hiding, the lying, everything they'd done just to be together, anyone would have thought by now she'd be more important to him than his petty rivalries, he really should have grown up, but somehow jealously always got the better of him,

"Because, Malfoy, unlike you, I care about my friends!" she fired back,

"What's that supposed to mean?" he replied, thoroughly offended.

She scoffed and rolled her eyes,

"The only thing you care about is tormenting Harry. I was right next to you in Flourish and Blotts and you didn't even notice!"

His grey eyes widened for a second, shock hit him, she hadn't...had she? Did Hermione Granger want him to notice her? Did she want him to think she was pretty? He scowled, mentally berating himself for thinking such things, she was a mudblood, it was hard enough to be friends with her let alone anything else, not that he wanted anything else, he didn't, he just wanted her to want him to want more to come from their friendship, he wanted her to want him to want what she wanted- wait, what? Great, he was turning into her with her over-thinking! His racing thoughts and the sting of her words caused him to frown, his eyes narrowing,

"I was there! I saw you staring at Lockhart with that disgusting dreamy look on your face!" he snapped, "You were the one who wanted to be friends, it was your idea to pretend we hated each other. I didn't want any part of it!" he was thoroughly fed up, how could she pin the blame on him when this was all her mess?

Anger, confusion, exasperation, hopelessness and hurt played in her dark brown orbs, he hadn't wanted to hurt her, but she had hurt him, she was always there for Potter, she never had time for his problems. She opened her mouth to say something then stopped, he could tell she was dealing with some kind of internal conflict. He wanted her to tell him that she gave a damn, that she would never care as much about Potty as she did for him, he wanted to know he'd never be second best for her, because he was tired of being just that to everyone else.

His father didn't love him, he simply wanted him to grow up and become a Death Eater, he wasn't exactly certain what it was they did but he understood they were powerful, Draco liked power, so he would agree to it. His mother wanted him to marry a pureblood, Parkinson in particular, his friends wanted him for his money and reputation. Nobody liked him for who he was let alone loved him for it. And one of the most important people in the world to him, the only person who'd given him a chance to be himself was turning her back on him after only a year, it wasn't fair, why must everything he truly wants be taken away from him?

"What do you mean? You didn't want any part of it?" she asked, her voice cracking slightly,

"I'm fed up, Granger," he sighed, "I'm tired of hiding and lying for you when all you do is run to Potty and that Oaf the first chance you get."

She didn't say anything, the silence was unbearable, he watched as she bit her lip, her eyes darting to the side in thought, he could imagine the cogs in her chest whirring with muddled feelings and coming to a painfully abrupt halt, giving them both a kind of heart-wrenching whiplash,

"Are you saying you don't want to be friends anymore?" this time when she spoke her voice was hoarse and filled with the emotions that he had always been afraid of, that he had never felt until he met her, that he wished he'd never felt at all, something so good wasn't meant to be so painful, it was his turn to not speak, he was thinking about what to say, the words caught in his throat, it was him or Potter and if he gave her that ultimatum it would only make their fight worse, but that just meant having to get his point across another way and he had no idea how to do tha-

"Draco! I was wondering where you'd run off to. You had me worried." Parkinson said, stalking over to them and taking hold of his hand, he saw Hermione swallow hard before looking away, "What are you doing here, Mudblood? God, you follow us everywhere! Anyone would think you fancy my Draco or something!" she laughed, seeing the shock on the other girl's delicate features, "Oh, no, don't tell me. You do, don't you? That's the funniest thing I've ever heard!"

He saw her eyes shine, but it was the dim light of unshed tears, making her beautiful dark eyes look like pools of muddy water, there was a knife twisting in his stomach, the pain was so sharp he thought he might have actually been stabbed, he glanced down, there was no blood seeping through his khaki green polo neck, this was a different kind of agony. The feeling only intensified when she sucked in a shallow breath and turned to leave,

"Granger!" he called, not even bothering to hide his desperation, she half-turned to face him, her long hair whipping her face,

"What, Malfoy?"

He winched at the bitterness of her tone, setting his jaw. It was over then. He barely had to look at her to guess as such, she had wrongly assumed he didn't want to be friends and she had gladly taken to genuinely hating him, was it that easy for her? Had their friendship meant so little? Was their silent unbreakable vow just lies? He felt the sting of his own tears, like a claw scratching at his throat, like the tingling sensation of blood rushing through the vessels in is nose after being hit. He had suffered his father's beatings because he'd wanted to be her friend and this was how she repaid him? By trampling on his every hope with her ugly, mudblood shoes? No, he would not allow it.

"Don't talk to me again. I don't want to catch something! Better yet, don't even look at me, I feel sick when you do!"

The tears toppled over, trailing down her cheeks in a kind of twisted way of torturing him, her fists clenched, she was shaking, but whether it was from her own anger or the sobs that seemed to rattle her very core, he couldn't tell,

"I hate you! You're nothing but a waste of space! You're pathetic and utterly vile! And I'd be happy to never speak to or look at you again! I. Hate. You!" she screamed, crying profusely, her breathing seemed ragged and laboured, like she had only seconds left to live. She was dying inside.

As was Draco. What little colour there had ever been in his handsome face was gone, his heart was erratic, pounding painfully against his ribs, he could barely hear Parkinson's words in his ear, he could only see Granger, could only hear her retreating footsteps, could only feel the blood thumping through his veins in fear. He was very afraid. The same way an arachnophobe feared spiders. It was the kind of fear that pinned you in place and ate away at your sanity.

He was afraid he'd lost her and there wasn't a thing he could do about it.

This had turned out to be one bloody awful train ride.