A/N: Okay well most importantly I want to thank everyone who is reading and reviewing; especially the regulars who I actually look forward to the comments of (I am sure you all know who you are by now).
Also in reply to 'Ashley Donnan'… I put my hands up to the fact I may not have been exactly regular with my updates. But I have passion. And I am really grateful that you haven't given up (yet)!
All comments are welcome and appreciated…
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
The notoriously wise and probably insane headmaster of Hogwarts School sat behind his desk, his eyes at this current moment lacking their usual sparkle and his face looking a little more aged than it had a moment before. His expression was un-readable as he observed the students before him in silence.
The head girl and boy sat in aligning chairs. Hermione Granger was quiet, for she dared not speak in fear it would once again cause the ocean of tears to erupt. The blond boy stared down at his knees intently; seemingly unsure what to do with himself, feeling neither of the two people in the room, were appropriate to rest his eyes upon. Hermione because he was sure any second now she would once again burst into tears, and Dumbledore, because the old headmaster had a way of reading him, and at this moment, he did not want to be read. Mostly, because the boy was unsure of what the man would find. There was something beautiful in her vulnerability.
The elderly man began to speak in a voice with which even in a whisper he could captivate a crowd. "I promise you Hermione we will find the culprit. But I must ask you one final time, you have no other clues as to what this is about or who it might be?" The girl shook her head a little too vigorously, and Draco managed to hold his tongue for now. "Then you are both excused; if Mr. Malfoy would be so kind as to walk you back to your room".
Draco stood up dutifully, and with a nod back at the headmaster he took Hermione by the arm, leading her towards to door. It was only once they were clear of the headmaster when he began to speak, "You should have told him," the boy mumbled.
Hermione said nothing, and instead followed the blonde boy towards the Gryffindor chambers almost hesitantly; however it wasn't until they reached the portrait of the fat lady that she managed to spill the words out of her. "I don't want to stay alone tonight," unsure how to take this, the boy stood there in an awkward moment, before decidedly responding with a quick, "get your things".
The girl looked at him questioningly, but he instead muttered the latest Gryffindor password to the portrait of the fat lady and leaned against the wall, patiently waiting for her to do as she was instructed.
Whilst he stood alone in the darkened corridor, waiting for the girl to re-emerge, the blond boy asked himself a hundred times over why he was doing this. Why he wanted so badly to help her. Pity. It had to be pity. Nothing more nothing less. Surely even a Malfoy was allowed this window of emotion.
He recalled her face as she looked upon the mangled body of her cat and fear was all he saw reflected in her eyes; and all he had wanted to do was hold her and tell her it would be okay. Yet this was ridiculous. For years he had seen a million emotions flash through her eyes and never before had it affected him in any way. He had always been indifferent; so why should now be any different? What had changed?
She had… well in a sense. In his eyes she was not the same girl, for he was getting to know her, and the void which was her in his mind, was now replaced with a girl he wanted to know. Time and circumstance had changed things. He had grown up, and so had she. It wasn't that he cared, he told himself; it was that he was no longer indifferent.
As Draco stood, trying to make sense of his own thoughts, the portrait of the fat lady once again swung open, and Hermione stumbled out carrying a small bag and a heavy heart. She seemed to be containing within her a torrent of emotions, and that was never a good thing.
"Come" he whispered, guiding her round the corner and and walked her down corridors which seemed all too familiar to the both of them. "It should be around here somewhere," Draco muttered to himself more than anything after a few minutes of wandering "It always appears when I need it!"
"Draco what are you…" Hermione began somewhat confused.
As she walked ahead, preparing to turn the corner Draco reached out for her arm and gently tugged her towards him, before pushing her into the room, "found it" he smiled, "the room of…"
"Requirment" the girl finished off for him, looking around in wonder. The room had changed itself into a large common room; a mixture of both their house colors; with elements of both held within. The usual sofa stood in front of the lit fire place as Hermione had grown accustomed to from her own house common room. Yet the statue of the famously feared yet utterly beautiful sauceress which stood by the window, she recognized vaguely from the Slytherin room.
"Perfect," he smiled leading the girl to the sofa and pushing her onto it, "sit" he instructed, whilst he chose a spot on the floor by the fire, keeping a carefully selected distance. After all, a Malfoy never got too close, and he was beginning to feel himself weaken.
"Why are you doing this Draco?" the Gryffindor girl whispered.
"Would you rather I had left you?" Draco asked defensively, clearly avoiding the question and choosing a more meandering route, for he had no answer to that which she asked.
"Of course not," she muttered, "but what makes you try, when I know this isn't where you want to be".
"Maybe it is," he shrugged.
"But this is me" she replied bitterly, "it's all me. Look around you Draco, why are we even here. Open your eyes"
"What are you talking about?" he asked confused but gently for he could see the tears in her eyes re-emerging once more.
"Can't you see why this is happening? The writing on the wall, the man in the forest, Crookshanks," at the cats name the girl gave an involuntary sob, "it's all because of me. Because I'm a mudblood," she spat the word as though it was poison. "He was an innocent cat," she continued not bothering to mask the hurt, "he did nothing to anyone; they didn't have to bring him into their game". The girl pulled one of the pillows onto her lap, and burying her face into it, allowing it to soak up the liquid pain which escaped her eyes. "Sometimes I wish I could be you" she laughed bitterly, "just be normal… be a pureblood".
At this Draco got up and moved himself to the sofa next to her ignoring all the logic within him which screamed at him to hold his distance, "I was an idiot Hermione, you were right all along" he shook his head. The girl looked down at her knees, his words not having penetrated, for she refused to accept them. For too long had she been told otherwise. Draco pulled his wand out of his pocket, "give me your hand," he said gently. The girl hesitated for a moment before complying to his request and placing her hand on top of his. The boy turned it round so her palm was facing upwards and placed the tip of his wand on it, muttering something under his breath and dragging the wand over her palm, making a small incision. The girl whimpered in pain, but Draco held onto her hand tightly not allowing her to pull it back.
"Draco what the hell are you…" she gasped, more in shock than in pain and stared in horror at the blood flowed freely down her arm; staining the tips of her robe sleeves.
"Shhh…" he whispered. Within seconds Draco had done the same to his own palm and then brought his own hand up to meet that of the girl's, "Your blood. My blood. It's all the same". At this the girl stopped struggling, and instead looked up at the boy amazed.
They both looked at their joined hands, blood coursing from one to the other, and running down both their arms; after a moment Draco took his wand and with a well placed spell directed at the both of them healed the cuts.
Gently pulling her hand back, Hermione looked down at her palm, it was the same as ever, no marks left, no blood left, no sign to tell of what he had just done… what he had just done for her. "Thank you," she smiled; the tears having already dried on her face and the smile which came through was one Draco had not seen before. Not for him.
"You know," she muttered, "you're nothing like I thought".
"I guess maybe I have changed just a little" he shrugged, "grown up; realized that sometimes not everything you are taught is solid; not everything you are taught is true;" he smiled to himself and then added almost jokingly, "plus, you need a friend like me".
The girl grinned, "and what makes you believe such a bold assumption?"
"Well you know," he laughed, "keep the ego in check; we can't have you thinking you're always right".
"I'm not always right," she laughed, before adding, "just most of the time".
"Hermione?"
"Yes?"
"Shut up," the blond boy grinned.
The two smiled inwardly, having momentarily forgotten the previous upset of the night, having momentarily erased the pain, and knowing as they looked into each others eyes, that these are the moments that you remember all your life. The simplest form of happiness. Friendship.
