Resentment

Chapter 11: Chasing a ball

A/N: I own nothing except my mistakes.

It had been weird to get back home under such different circumstances. What was even weirder was leaving Hogwarts, knowing she might not return to it next year. Now that Dumbledore was gone, Harry would be in much more danger. And who was going to be the headmaster now, anyway?

As much as she loved Hogwarts, her main priority now was to keep Harry safe. And she never thought she would say this, but if that meant abandoning school, then she'd gladly do so.

Harry. She had not spoken to him at all since last week when they left for home. She had no clue on how he was doing, and how he was handling things. Neither had she spoken to Ron or Ginny for that matter, but that was done more on purpose.

She had been secluding herself from everyone. Even to her family she spoke less and only answered when she really had to. It's not like she enjoyed doing that, not even in the slightest. But it was necessary.

What Hermione needed right now was to think. Just to take a moment out of her day, and to think everything through carefully. She needed to sort out for herself what to do with Draco and their mental connection, and if she should now tell Harry and Ron as well.

After all, how much could it hurt now, right? Although, she guessed a lot. If they found out now that she had been aware of things going on for months and hadn't even let them on in it.. well, she was certain they'd end the friendship right then and there.

Of course the truth would come out eventually at some point – it was just inevitable. But she'd try to stall the moment for as long as she could. Not for the sake to maintain the friendship for selfish reasons, but to maintain the friendship to keep them together – to survive.

Because that's what mattered the most at the moment. To survive, and they'd need each other for that. Which is why she didn't want to linger too long on the things that were bound to happen after the boys did find out about the connection between her and Draco.

Draco. She wasn't sure if she was glad or a bit upset that he hadn't shown any sign of communication over the past few days. Not like she really bothered to dig into his mind. She just wasn't ready to face his thoughts on the matter yet, she supposed.

But she wouldn't deny that she missed him in some sort of a way. Hearing an occasional thought of the day had become a comforting habit to her – to assure that she wasn't alone even if some days she felt like it. But now it was dead silent, and at the moment she felt more alone than ever.

I'm still here. Hermione cursed the living hell under her breath as she jumped in her seat near her bedroom window, the voice clearer than she had heard it so far. But that might be due to the absolute silence that hung in the house so late at night.

Overcoming the initial shock, she relaxed into her seat again and waited for her heartbeat to go a tad bit slower again. In all honesty, she was just dreading the moment to figure out what to say in return.

Did she actually even want to talk to him? Yes, she did. Heck, that's what she had been craving for the entire week. Not that she'd ever admit it aloud, of course. But when Draco wasn't in his usual arrogant mood, then he could be incredibly calming to talk to, and she really did miss that.

So, she wanted to talk to him – that she was certain about. But what in the world could she say in return? Too many things happened last week, and she wasn't sure how to address it. She didn't even know if he even wanted to talk about that.

Granger, for Merlin's sake, just stop rambling and ask me how I'm doing or something. Hermione smiled at that thought, glad to hear some of the old Draco again. But then she frowned, releasing an angry huff in the process.

Hermione. She corrected him. What? The confusion he had sounded almost humorous if she had been in the mood to laugh. My name is Hermione.

I know that. Hermione released another angry huff, even though it was a waste of breath, really. It's not like he could hear her huffing. Then why do you keep calling me Granger?

Draco remained silent for a good few seconds, and she could practically see him shrug as he said his next reply. It's a habit, really.

Hermione let it drop, not finding it worth the effort to argue about now. She was sure that the time would come when he'd call her by her first time, and until then, she'd save her breath. Or well, she'd save her thoughts.

How are you? Hermione asked, sincerely meaning the question. I was only joking, Granger. You didn't really need to ask that.

I know, but I want to know. It remained silent again, something she was really starting to hate. I don't know. Her heart warmed as she could hear how honest his reply was, and she felt grateful that he shared it with her.

I guess that makes two of us, then. Hermione sighed aloud, focusing her gaze back on the window to look outside. She had let the curtains hang open so she could have a good look at the streets, which were illuminated by the soft lighting of the street lights. The world at night always seemed so peaceful to her, and it made it so much more difficult to realize that true horrors were happening right now.

Draco?

Yes?

Things will gonna be bad, won't they? Hermione watched her own reflection in the window, and only now saw how tired and crestfallen she looked. It angered her in a way, to see herself so weak and hopeless. She knew better than that, but on the other hand, she couldn't help the way she felt.

Everything was changing. Again and again, and sometimes that was just difficult. Especially when there was no way to determine the outcome. I guess.

You should really change that hairdo, Granger. A week's worth of unwashed hair really does not suit you. Hermione raised her eyebrows in amused surprise at the sudden change of subject. As if you're looking much better than me right now.

Of course I do. Hermione scoffed at that, not believing a word of that. Then prove it. She challenged him. The dreadful silence popped up again, and she feared she had crossed the line with their conversation, but a breath of relief escaped her lips when he spoke again. How?

Hermione smiled deviously, glad to have persuaded him enough to consider doing it. Go stand in front of the mirror. Now, she only needed to figure out how to work the whole seeing thing out. They were nearing the next stage, but so far the only times she saw his view was when they randomly came at her.

Concentrating on her connection with Draco, she tried to picture his bedroom again as clear as she possibly could. Perhaps if she focused on the room he was in, her mind would follow and carry her eyes to show his view.

The room alone didn't seem to do it, however, and so she tried to picture Draco in it as well. Tried to imagine Draco standing there in front of his mirror with all his characteristics. Wait, what did he actually look like?

Bit by bit she tried to picture him as detailed as possible: the white blonde hair, the faint sneer that seemed to have become a prominent feature on his face after all those years; his grey eyes that were always carefully scanning his surroundings, and to top it off: his usual black suit.

Well, of course he wouldn't be wearing it now, seeing it was nearing midnight, but it was the outfit she had seen him wearing most of the past school year, and it seemed to do the trick for her brain.

Successfully her view shifted from her own bedroom to his, and here she was now, seeing Draco indeed stand in front of his mirror.

Taking in his appearance, she watched as the black sweatpants hung loosely on his hips and the white shirt he was wearing was hugging his torso. Hermione couldn't help but notice the Dark Mark on his left arm, and the moment she noticed it he covered it up by bringing his arm behind his back.

The view started to waver, but she refused to leave his mind before being proved right. Or wrong. Draco spoke, and she watched how unusual it actually was to hear his voice but not see his lips moving.

Because as she watched the reflection in the mirror, she saw his face – which was indeed looking as tired as she had seen it all year – being held perfectly still as he watched himself in the mirror. His hair was slightly messed up, a few pieces of hair sticking out to the sides, and they even seemed a bit damp.

Well, at least he had showered in contrast to her. Some people do care about hygiene, you know.

Oh, shut it, Malfoy. As if a miracle happened, he actually smiled. And oh, how good it felt to see the corner of his lips turn up into a lopsided smirk. Malfoy, huh? You're going back to last name basis?

Only when you're an annoying little brat. Hermione watched in relief as his lips parted slightly, his teeth showing briefly as he grinned for a few seconds. Then his face fell back into a faint smile, but it was enough to make Hermione feel a lot better.

If he could smile, then perhaps things weren't going to be as bad. Oh, what was she saying? Now that Draco suddenly smiled the world wasn't such a bad place anymore? Merlin, she started to sound like Lavender. And for what reason, anyway?

No, she just liked to see Draco smile after having seen the gloomy face for so long. That must have been it, she was sure of it.

That, or you just can't resist the smile many girls swoon over. His mouth turned into a smirk, and then he winked. Like, actually winked.

And that is my cue to leave. With that she snapped back into her own bedroom, and as she watched her reflection in the window she could actually see a smile plastered on her face. Oh come on, Granger, don't hurt my feelings like that.

Hermione chuckled, getting up out of the chair and stretching her body for a bit. Sorry, Draco, but we've been over this before. You're just not my type. It's not you – it's me. Hermione laughed to herself at the horrible cliché that she had encountered many times in movies when she watched the television with her family.

You're alone in that, then. I'm everybody's type. She didn't take the arrogant remark all too serious as she could hear his teasing voice, and so she simply rolled her eyes as she closed the curtains and climbed into her bed. Whatever helps you fall asleep, Draco.

Their thoughts died out again, and Hermione sighed in satisfaction as she closed her eyes, rolling onto her side. It was amazing how such a short moment of interaction could lighten her mood. And what was even better was that he didn't need to necessarily talk about the events. He was more than alright with just talking about other things to keep their minds off it.

Granger?

Call me Hermione and I might listen to what you have to say. Hermione smiled, thinking that she had him there. Too bad, you'll hear me, anyway.

Curse him. What is it, Malfoy? She didn't mean to sound so cold, but the words formed into a thought faster than she could stop it. I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that.

Whatever, Granger. His voice sounded careless, but she couldn't shrug off the feeling that the mood had shifted somewhat.

It went silent for the umpteenth time again, and Hermione was seriously considering to blast some music to finally have something else than the constant sound of nothingness.

What did you want to say? Hermione asked after a few minutes, having thought that he might continue, but he never did. And neither did he now. Draco? He couldn't have fallen asleep so soon, could he have?

I just wanted to say goodnight, I guess. Hermione chuckled as she heard how uncertain and awkward that thought sounded, and she smiled into her pillow at the nice gesture. Goodnight, Draco.

Goodnight, Hermione.

She would deny it to anyone who would utter a word about it, but in all honesty, her heart fluttered at the sound of her name.

What in the world are you watching? Hermione gave a slight jump next to her father the next day as she was watching television, not having expected the sudden voice. You might think that after nearly six months one would be used to hearing random thoughts, but that wasn't the case for Hermione.

Football. She simply replied, staring at the television screen, not particularly interested in the game. Honestly, the only reason she was watching it was because she wanted to spend a tiny bit of quality time with her dad.

Football? Hermione had to suppress a laugh at his confusion. Yes, it's the name of the sport.

Muggles call chasing a ball like animals a sport? Oh, how much she would have given to see his face right now. It's not so different from Quidditch, really.

I beg to differ. His reply came, his voice turning more proud as she was sure he was thinking back to Quidditch. Really? So you don't find it a bit odd that Wizards decide to hop on a wooden stick that is enchanted to fly and chase around Quaffles and a Snitch to score points and meanwhile risk the chance of getting brutally hit by a Bludger?

Well, that sure was a mouthful. At times like this she was really glad that one couldn't be mentally exhausted from holding long conversations in your head with yourself, or in her case, with someone else.

Perhaps a bit. The reluctance and pain to say that was clear in his voice, and he hurried on to the next part to try and distract her from what he just said. But you can't possibly convince me that chasing a ball across a field is very sane, either.

Oh, I definitely won't disagree, Draco. Personally, I think it's a ridiculous sport, just like Quidditch. They're both absolutely useless. If growls were transportable over thoughts, she was sure she'd hear one now. Granger, I don't-.. you know what? I'm not even gonna bother with you.

Hermione chuckled lightly to herself, getting off the couch as she heard a hooting sound near the kitchen window. What are you doing? Hermione asked out of curiosity, feeling a little less awkward to ask such a question.

To be honest, so far these past two days had been rather alright between the two. As if some sort of brick wall was slowly crumbling between them and they managed to hold more casual conversations without lashing out on each other.

It was nice, really. She liked seeing this side of him way more, it made him more likeable. Nothing you need to know of. Or perhaps not. Her vision changed right at the moment she grabbed the letter from Ron's owl, and she fought to keep both views as she watched what Draco saw.

There has was, standing in a dark hallway in front of a mirror, the light from behind him that shone through a window illuminating his features. His face turned into somewhat of a grin, and he wiggled his eyebrows once. Just kidding. I'm walking around, really.

Her vision snapped back to her own kitchen, and Hermione rolled her eyes so hard she was sure they were going to roll out. Draco, please do me a favour and never make a joke again. You're downright horrible at it.

Oh come on, Granger, no need to be so rude. Hermione smirked slightly and took a seat at the dining table, opening the letter.

Dear Hermione,

How are you holding up? Mom says you can come over any time you want, although by now I think that should be a given. Haven't heard anything from Harry yet, though.. have you?

Dad also wanted me to ask you if it's alright if we stop by next week for a bit. Would you mind?

Love, Ron

Gonna spend the day with the Weasleys? Hermione rolled her eyes as she could practically imagine the sneer that went with that comment. I don't see why not.

Picking up a piece of parchment from the bookshelf, she got her quill and ink that was laying on the other end of the dining table.

Dear Ron,

I'm alright as far as I can be under these circumstances. How are you and your family doing? And is Bill recovering well?

I haven't heard from Harry yet. Although, I haven't really written to him either, though. I think he just needs some time to himself to grieve. I'm sure we'll hear from him when he is ready.

Next week sounds alright. Just make sure to use the front door, all right? The last time you came over by Floo my dad nearly got a heart attack.

Love, from Hermione

Folding the letter in half, she handed it over to Pigwidgeon and watched as it flew away, taking off into the distance for its long trip back to the Burrow.

Hermione sighed as she leaned back in her chair, wondering why in the world they would come over to visit her. It's not like she minded at all, it's just that she knew they wouldn't come without a reason. The only time the meetings were for fun was when she went to the Burrow.

It'll probably have to do with Potter. Hermione's head shot up at that, her brows furrowing. What do you mean?

I don't know much, but from what I've gathered they're trying to ambush him once he's of age. Hermione visibly paled at that, although it shouldn't have come as a surprise. After all, Voldemort wanted Harry dead. And now that Dumbledore wasn't there to protect him any longer, and Harry's mother's protection would soon wear off, he was as vulnerable as he could be.

Once more her mood darkened again as she thought of the hell Harry would have to go through once more.