A/N: Chapter written by avdub's. Disclaimer: the mentioned poem 'Insomniac' is written by Sylvia Plath and I don't own it in any way. Enjoy!
When Hermione woke the next morning, she rolled to face the window to see that it was still pouring down rain. She hugged the blanket tighter to her chest and nuzzled into her pillow, her head still feeling fuzzy and her eyes heavy. Memories of the day before came creeping back; the way Draco's entire body relaxed as she had read aloud to him, the tired look on his face, and the look he gave her after she had read the first poem.
Hermione laid in bed for a while, her eyes drifting shut before popping open when another crack of thunder tumbled over the castle, and her thoughts were still stuck on Draco. Her initial curiosity had turned to concern and now her concern had turned into wanting to help him; to get him out of whatever it was he was caught up in. She wasn't by any means stupid or oblivious - she knew that his torn up hands and books on complex magic and strange disappearances weren't just nothing and it was obvious that whatever it was he was doing, he by no means was enjoying it.
She glanced at her clock and saw that it was only half past five. There was still quite a while until breakfast. She could read, or work on her extra homework assignments, or wander the castle in hopes of coming across Draco, but the dormitory was chilly and her muscles were a bit sore. All she really fancied at that moment was a hot shower.
She pulled herself from the warmth of her sheets and snatched her towel from on top of her trunk before going to the bathroom to start the shower. She undressed quickly, tested the water to make sure it wasn't too hot, and hopped in to escape the chill. She stood under the hot water with her eyes closed and her head tilted back. Her muscles slowly relaxed as the warmth soothed them. She took her time massaging her scalp with shampoo and washing her body, standing there for what felt like hours, inhaling the vanilla fumes from her soap and listening to the low rumbles of thunder. For once, her mind was empty and she basked in it. Her mind was always reeling, especially these days. She deserved this moment of peace, didn't she?
When she saw that her skin was tinted red, she shut off the water and climbed out with the towel wrapped around her. She cursed herself for not bringing her clothes into the bathroom as she raced back to the dormitory to pull out a pair of jeans and a gray sweater along with her bra, socks and panties from her trunk. She dressed quickly, brushed her hair, cast a drying charm and tied into a bun.
It was six thirty by the time she had brushed her teeth, put on her shoes and packed some books into her bag. After deciding she would wander the halls until it was time for breakfast, she climbed out the portrait hole and set off down the corridor towards a set of stairs. When she reached the fourth floor and was heading down the corridor to the next set of stairs, she heard footsteps behind her. They sounded hurried, judging by the quick pace. Gripping her wand just for safe measure, she whipped around to see Draco practically right behind her. She jumped and let out a yelp.
"Merlin, Draco, don't creep up on people like that!" she scolded, swatting at his chest.
He backed away, causing her to miss by mere centimeters. She didn't know if it was just her or if he did look quite panicked? Her gaze drifted down to his hands and when he realized what she was doing, he quickly shoved them in his pockets, but it was too late. She had already seen. Though they weren't cut up this time, his knuckles were bruised and bleeding.
"Draco," she began, even though she was at a loss for words at that moment.
"Granger," he said sharply. "Just don't. Alright?"
"Let me heal them," she said.
She was surprised when he didn't deny her right away. But instead mulled over her offer. "When we get to the Room of Requirement," he whispered.
Hermione nodded and together, they made their way back up to the seventh floor.
The same Room materialized for them again and Hermione felt a wave of relief wash over her. She loved it. They dropped their bags on the floor by the table and headed over to the couch. Draco plopped down first while Hermione wished the room to provide some dittany and took it off the coffee table when it had appeared. She sat down next to him and studied his hands, which were perched atop his thighs. He was leaning back with his eyes shut, his breathing steady, just as he had sat yesterday. Hesitantly, she picked up the hand closest to her and placed it in her lap. When he didn't protest, she unstoppered the dittany and dripped some onto his wounded knuckles. She pursed her lips in silent disapproval for his stress managing techniques, because what was punching a solid object going to do?
He cringed as the solution healed his wounds and he snatched his healed hand back and cracked an eye open. "A little warning would have been nice," he sniffed.
"Sorry," she mumbled, taking his other hand now and repeating her actions. She sighed when the last of the wounds disappeared, and then let his hand fall into his lap with a dull thud. "There," she said with finality. "Better?"
Draco examined them fleetingly before letting his eyes drift shut again. "Thanks, Granger."
Hermione hummed but was too distracted by sunken cheekbones and dark circles under his eyes to listen. "Come on," she said, an impatient tone to her voice. "Let's go to breakfast."
"I'm not hungry," he replied, his eyes still closed.
She huffed. "Well you still need to eat."
Draco sighed and shifted in his seat. "What's it going to take to get you to drop this?"
Hermione crossed her arms over her chest and glared down at him, even if he wasn't looking at her. She couldn't help but get protective when she saw him in this state. "Going to breakfast," she answered smugly.
"I hate how clever you are sometimes," he mumbled as he stood up reluctantly.
Hermione rolled her eyes but smiled at his form of a compliment. She went to pick up their school bags and handed his to him. They started to leave when Draco stopped in the middle of the room. "I don't really fancy going to the Great Hall," he said.
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "What did you have in mind?"
They returned to the Room of Requirement forty minutes later with platters of food floating in behind them. Hermione lit the fire while Draco wished for plates and goblets and silverware to appear and set the table for the two of them.
"Oh!" she gasped when she turned around to see the table set. "Draco, you didn't have to do all that."
He shrugged, taking his seat and gesturing her to join him. As she sat down he said, "I watched our house-elves do it for years."
Hermione giggled at that and even Draco must have recognized the humor as he cracked a smile. "The Life of a Privileged Pureblood, by Draco Malfoy," she teased while piling eggs and sausages onto her plate.
His expression grew dark and Hermione fell silent at once. She regretted the words as soon as they had escaped her mouth. She had no idea what Draco's life was like lately and to just assume…
"I'm sorry," she gushed. "I didn't-"
Draco held up a hand. "Don't worry about it, Granger."
Hermione bit her lip. He seemed fine but that didn't mean he was fine. But she let it go for his sake and returned to pouring some pumpkin juice for herself.
As they ate, she read him snippets from the Prophet and they discussed all the ways the Ministry was utterly failing, and when that got old they talked about how much they weren't looking forward to the rest of the student body returning later this week. Though it was foolish and childish, Hermione was not looking forward to Potions class with Harry and his book again and she had no desire to watch the aggressive and passionate displays of affection between Ron and Lavender. Draco, gathering from the disgust in his voice, was not excited for his housemates to return either. She was curious about that, but as she had come to learn when it came to Draco, sometimes it was best not to ask questions.
They finished the remains of their breakfast and it was while she was stacking their plates on the tray that she realized New Year's Eve was the very next day. The year was coming to an end and at that point in time, she would be spending it alone. She chanced a glance at Draco and saw that he was pulling out textbooks from his school bag, along with ink and quills.
The tray vanished with a simple thought on her part as she sat down again and pulled over her own school bag. "Tomorrow is New Year's Eve," she said conversationally, laying out several pages of notes in front of her.
Draco scoffed. "New Year's...what a pointless day to celebrate."
"Really?" she asked, her voice sounding much too high for her own liking. "A new year...a clean slate...a chance to start over."
He rolled his eyes and continued working on a Herbology essay. "Your shit doesn't just disappear just because it's a new year. Same stress. Same problems. Same bullshit."
Hermione scowled. His view was a bit pessimistic, even if he did have a point. "Well, regardless," she said, her voice a bit too shrill. "I don't really fancy starting off the new year alone in my empty common room reading or doing homework."
Draco cocked an eyebrow at her insinuation, but instead of addressing her subliminal request, he went another route. "How many new years have you brought in by doing homework?"
She stuck her tongue out and threw a broken quill at him. He ducked and it missed, landing on the floor behind him. He chuckled and shook his head. "None, if you can believe it," she answered him with a sigh. "Before Hogwarts, mum and dad always had friends over. So it was always me with a bunch of adults but…" She felt her words melt away as she remembered all the New Year's Eves she'd spent surrounded by adults, laughing and drinking champagne and some of them listening to her ramble incessantly.
Draco was waiting for her to speak when she sighed and shook her head, scattering her memories. "And after Hogwarts?" he asked, genuinely sounding intrigued.
"Either traveling with my parents, or being with Harry and Ron," she answered.
He was silent for a moment, fidgeting his fingers and looking anywhere but her. "I'll be outside the room at nine o'clock tomorrow night," he said quietly.
Hermione nodded in understanding and smiled at him. "Thank you."
Draco cocked an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "For what?"
After sharing their private breakfast and doing some schoolwork, Draco told her he had some things to take care of. She made him promise he would come for dinner, and he reassured her with a roll of his eyes and a wave as she disappeared down the corridor. As she made her way back to the common, she told herself she'd only made him promise so it meant he would eat at least twice that day and that it was definitely not because she wanted to see him again.
When the common room had made her feel too lonely for comfort, she had retreated to the library for some leisurely reading. She retreated to a well-lit area complete with a two person sofa, some armchairs and a small round table in the middle. Hermione kicked off her shoes and folded her legs underneath her as she sat down and opened her book she took from her bag. A slip of folded up paper fell to the floor in front of her. Curious and confused, Hermione bent down to pick it up.
She unfolded it and she gasped as her eyes scanned over the contents. Her heart was sinking as she drank in the words. The night is only a sort of carbon paper...he suffers his desert pillow...his head is a little interior of grey mirrors...he lives without privacy in a lidless room. It was a poem - Insomniac - by Sylvia Plath. She knew this was from Draco; there was no one else she had ever read Plath's poems with. One lone tear splashed against the parchment. She wiped away the wet remains on her cheek and sniffled. She was about to tuck the paper into her schoolbag when she noticed handwriting at the bottom right corner of the page. She squinted at the small elegant writing only to decipher two short sentences.
I don't like talking about such things. This is easier.
Contrary to how she probably should have reacted, her heart soared. Finally he was opening up to her! Even if it was in the forms of poems, she could live with that. It was something. Of course now her mind was filled with countless questions. When had he read this poem? She hadn't remembered reading it to him the day before, and when had he found the time to slip it not only into her bag, but into her copy of Angela's Ashes?
She made a mental note to try and ask him those questions later; whether or not he would actually give her answers, she didn't know, but it was a worth a try.
There was no way she was going to be able to read now. There was too much to think about, too many what-ifs and unanswered questions mulling over in her mind. What was making Draco feel this way? So scared that it was stripping him of normal sleep? Filled with such a fear for failure and death that he could no longer dream peacefully?
With a sigh of resignation, an odd sense of elation flowed through her at this minor breakthrough and a pang of pity settling in the pit of her stomach, Hermione got up from her spot on the couch, put her shoes on again and decided it was time for a lengthy walk around Hogwarts.
Draco had shown up for dinner like he promised, but the disheveledness in his appearance worried her more than she let on. His hair looked at though it had been raked through a hundred times over, he smelled faintly of perspiration and his tie hung loosely around his neck.
Hermione quickly glanced at the Professor's table and was horrified when she saw Professor McGonagall studying Draco. Hermione flitted her gaze back to Draco, who was now pushing mashed potatoes around with his fork. She cleared her throat and leaned forward. "Are you alright?" she murmured, careful not move her lips too much.
Draco glanced up at her then back down at his plate. "No."
She was taken back by his honesty, considering the note he had scribbled onto the poem. There wasn't much she could do right then, not with other people around. Though the other students hadn't even so much as glanced their way, there were other watching eyes. Hermione licked her lips before answering.
"Room of Requirement after?" she whispered.
There was the sudden sound of wood scraping against stone followed by footsteps. Hermione looked up to see Professor Snape striding over, his cape billowing behind him. Hermione cast her gaze downwards, trying to act as though she hadn't just been conversing with Draco.
She heard the sound of Draco's knee banging against the underside of the table. Draco hissed and glared up at Snape, who had his hand clenched tightly around Draco's shoulder.
"Good evening, Draco," he drawled. He paused. "Miss Granger."
Her cheeks burned as she forced herself to meet Snape's gaze. "Professor," she said curtly.
He regarded her with an expression she couldn't read before he turned his attention to Draco. "I hope you haven't forgotten about our meeting tonight," Snape said in a clipped tone.
Draco shook his head. "No, sir. How could I forget?"
Snape smirked and released his tight grip. "There's no need for cheek, Draco."
And with that, he returned to the Professor's table and she didn't see who he talked to after he sat down. It did not seem like a coincidence that Snape had come over to remind Draco he had plans this evening after she had just asked him if he wanted to go to the Room of Requirement. Draco was staring down at his plate, his fork gripped so tightly in his hand his knuckles were white.
"How long have you known about this meeting with Professor Snape?" she asked as they were leaving the Great Hall almost half an hour later.
"Why does it matter?" Draco asked, sounding annoyed.
They continued into the Entrance Hall and started walking towards the Grand Staircase. "Because," she hissed. Two Hufflepuffs passed and they both watched as they disappeared towards the lower floor. "It just seems fishy that not long after McGonagall was eyeing you, Snape comes over and reminds you that you two have a meeting."
Draco looked surprised by this, but it was soon replaced with a scowl and a shake of his head. "Not that it's any of your business, Granger, but this meeting with Snape has been planned since this afternoon."
"Oh," she said quietly, feeling slightly foolish.
"Why do you care if McGonagall was staring at me anyway?" he asked.
"Hm? Oh… No reason. Just...seemed odd, that's all," she said airily. There was no way she was going to tell Draco about her conversation with McGonagall.
She thought she saw a look of disappointment flicker across his features, but he was back to a blank stare before she had a chance to blink. She stammered, unsure of what else to say.
"Well I've got to go," he said, starting to walk away. "Nine o'clock."
Hermione nodded and waved as he got further away. "Nine o'clock."
She watched as he disappeared up the stairs and turned in the direction of Snape's office. Hermione shook her head and let out a sigh. As she began to walk up the stairs, she realized her heart had never felt so heavy before.
Hermione had spent the entirety of the next day counting down the minutes to nine o'clock. Much to her surprise and disappointment, Draco hadn't come to breakfast, lunch or dinner. She'd walked the castle for a while, checking all of their usual spots but had come up short. Typical, she'd thought bitterly. The one time we actually plan to meet up and he goes and disappears again.
When her watch read five to nine, she left the Gryffindor common room and headed to the stretch of wall that held access to the Room of Requirement.
"He better be here…" she mumbled grumpily to herself. "I swear if he's not, I'll-"
"Talking to yourself now, Granger?" Draco called.
Hermione's head snapped up. The corners of her mouth twitched upwards slightly. He actually came, she told herself. He was there, in the flesh, walking towards her and it looked like he was carrying something in both his hands.
"I'm surprised you're here," she said coolly. She wasn't letting him off the hook that easily, even though she was pleased to see him.
He set down the bag he had been carrying and smiled at her. In the few months that she'd come to know Draco, she had rarely seen him smile. The longer she studied him, the quicker she realized there was something different about his appearance. For the first time in months, it looked as though he'd slept more than a few hours. His hair was brushed, his clothes were clean and tidy and his tie was secured around his neck this time.
"You look well," she said, though it was more of a question than anything.
Draco gestured for her to step back so he could pace back and forth. It was then that she spotted the bottle of firewhiskey sitting on the floor next to the bag he had been carrying. Her mouth hung open as he paced, one, two, three times in front of the blank stretch of stone wall.
"Is that firewhiskey?" she asked incredulously.
He stopped, a playful smirk on his lips. The door appeared with a tiny pop. "Good to know you can read."
Hermione rolled her eyes and followed him into the room. He carried the bag over to the table and began extracting the contents. Cauldron cakes, pudding, fresh-baked cookies and other delectable foods covered the table. Hermione gaped down at it all, completely at a loss for words.
"I thought you hated New Year's?" she asked. Would she ever figure him out?
"I do," he replied. "But it doesn't mean we can't enjoy good food and a drink or two."
She hummed in agreement, because weren't they both in need of desserts and alcohol? Hadn't she spent one too many New Year's sitting on the sidelines, listening to adults chatter endlessly? Wasn't this year stressful enough? She deserved to let loose a little bit - they both did. But still, Draco was acting uncharacteristically chipper.
She didn't press the matter with him; if this was the Draco she got that evening, it was more than fine with her. He handed her a plate so she could load some food onto it. When they both had a fair share of sweets on their plates, they moved to the couch and Draco suggested that they play Wizard's Chess, and though Hermione wasn't a fan of the game, she agreed.
Draco made his first move and Hermione decided perhaps that it was a good time to try and talk to him about the poem he had left her.
"Insomniac," she said the name of the poem and rested her chin in her hand. "It's quite depressing, isn't it?"
It was her move now.
"Yes," he said slowly. "Many of her poems are depressing, are they not?"
His move. She cursed herself as he took out one of her pieces. She never was the best at chess.
"I suppose you're right," she said with a light-hearted chuckle. "So you like poetry then?"
Draco shrugged as she made her move. She could have sworn her bishop was hissing at her from her poor choice in moves, but she wasn't paying much attention.
"It's alright," he sniffed. "From what I've read anyway."
It was his move, though her pieces were safe that time. She could tell he was avoiding the subject, but she'd come up with a new approach, and she was going to stick to it. Maybe if she opened up to him more, he would do the same. If she showed him she thought him worthy of hearing her thoughts and feelings, maybe he would let her into his own thoughts.
"Charles Baudelaire is another good poet. He's French-" she started to ramble on about the different poets that she knew of and ones she's liked and didn't like. It was when she just happened to actually look directly at Draco that she noticed he was staring, wearing an intrigued expression.
Her cheeks grew hot and she stopped talking immediately. Their chess game had become abandoned, the pieces yelling at them to make their next move. "What?" she asked after a prolonged moment of silence.
"Nothing," he said quickly, glancing down at his lap.
She studied him for a moment but decided not to press him. She did notice that he was smiling slightly and her cheeks only grew hotter.
After their abandoned chess game, Hermione thought it would be nice to have a radio and a second later, the room supplied one. When Draco shot her a perplexed look, she simply said, "For music. And the countdown to midnight later."
They played a few games of exploding snap and Hermione laughed hysterically when one of his eyebrows became singed, and he retaliated by chucking a Pumpkin Pasty at her. She shrieked and tried to dodge it, but clumps of pumpkin got stuck in her hair.
"Arsehole," she muttered as she picked bits of the sweet out of her hair while Draco practically howled with laughter, clutching his stomach.
"Sorry," he said as he regained his composure.
Hermione scowled at him but couldn't hold back her smile, "Are not." She swore there was another piece of pumpkin pasty stuck in her frizzy strands of wild hair, but she just couldn't find it.
"Here," Draco said suddenly, scooting forward so they were sitting inches apart on the floor. "Let me."
Her hands dropped into her lap as Draco's hands gently searched her hair. She winced when he ran into knots and he mumbled under his breath incoherently, though if she had to guess, it was snarky comments about the state of her hair.
"There you are, you little bugger!" She heard him exclaim as he pulled the last bit from her hair. As he did so, the tips of his fingers brushed against her cheek. She nearly jumped at his touch but managed to cover it up by fidgeting in her spot. Her skin continued to tingle even after his hands were nowhere near her hair or face.
"Thanks," she said as he flicked the bit of pasty into the fire.
"I shouldn't have, considering you laughed at my eyebrow in the first place," he said with a smirk.
She chuckled and shook her head. "I'll consider myself lucky then."
They spent the next hour or so sipping Firewhiskey and talking. Conversing with Draco, about anything that didn't have to do with him and his strange disappearances, was the easiest thing in the world. Easier than brewing a boils antidote, and she could practically do that in her sleep. She wasn't quite sure how they flowed from one topic to the next with such ease but they just...did. There were a lot of things about the two of them she couldn't explain. Like how they had even managed to form a friendship in the first place.
She had never thought Draco was stupid, because she was aware he was right behind her for best in their year, but she hadn't known the full extent of his intelligence. But after they had spent almost two hours talking about foreign policies and the corruption in government and ways Hogwarts desperately needed to upgrade their curriculum, she was burning to ask him one particular question.
"I have to ask," she said, her words slurring slightly. "Do you, well given our...friendship, do you still believe muggle-borns are inferior to purebloods?"
Draco sighed heavily at this, setting down his glass next to him on the carpet. "Honestly?" He paused and she was left waiting with bated breath for his answer. "I have no idea what to believe anymore."
Hermione didn't know what to make of his answer. Did that mean that even though he willingly spoke to her and picked bits of sweets out of her hair and took walks with her, that he still saw her as less than himself? Was a part of him still looking down at her for who she was?
"I don't...I can't see you as inferior to me," he said. "That much I've worked out."
Now this came to a shock. He'd thought about this before?
"Alright," she said slowly, swirling the liquid in her glass. At least he didn't look down on her anymore. When exactly that changed for him, she didn't know.
"I mean, you're obviously brilliant," he continued, staring straight ahead now. It would have been funny to see him with his pink cheeks, drunkenly going on like this, but the matter at hand was too important for her to even crack a smile. "I can't very well deny that you're a talented witch."
She was blushing now, and she was quite thankful for the heat of the fire hitting their faces. Maybe he wouldn't see just how red her cheeks were, and if he did she could always blame it on the fire and the alcohol.
"But I think the question that needs to be asked," he slurred, sloshing a bit of liquid onto the carpet. "Is why the hell you want to be around someone like me." His voice cracked slightly as he spoke and Hermione felt something in her chest snap.
"Draco," she said quietly.
"I mean, did you hear the question you just asked me?" he said over her, his features marred with disgust for himself.
"Stop it!" she nearly shouted. She wasn't going to sit there and let him tear himself apart like that. "I…" she stammered, but for the first time in her life, she didn't have a logical explanation. Because nothing about this was logical at all. She shouldn't want to spend as much time with him as possible. She shouldn't lay awake at night worrying about him and wondering if he was alright. She shouldn't have been so excited to be with him tonight. He was supposed to be her enemy. He was supposed to hate her, and she was supposed to hate him.
"Look, I can't really explain it," she breathed. "I...I like spending time with you. And I think…" she inhaled deeply then took another sip of her firewhiskey. "I think you're not really what you seem. There's more to you than meets the eye and...what's underneath isn't so bad."
Draco remained quiet, picking at bits of fuzz on the carpet. The fire crackled in front of them. The radio host had just announced there was only thirty minutes till midnight before the next song began to play.
"You're mad, Granger. You know that?" Draco muttered.
She hummed quietly and took another sip. Her glass was nearly empty now. "Some would say the same about you. Hanging around with a Muggle-born."
Silence fell between them again and then another important question popped into her head. Something she'd been worried about these last few days as the holiday drew to a close, but one she didn't really want to think about.
"We'll have to go back to ignoring one another once our friends come back, won't we?" she asked, her voice sounding too small for her liking.
"Seeing as your friends hate me, and mine hate you, I suppose we will Granger, yes," he said dully.
Hermione noticed that he didn't look thrilled about it either. A weight settled in the pit of her stomach. Of course they'd had to sneak around even during the holidays, with Professors watching over them, but that was different to being surrounded by their classmates. At least with only Professors around, it was easier to hide away. Hermione had never dreaded the start of a new term quite so much before.
"And with only fifteen minutes left until the New Year…" the radio host's voice crackled through the speakers, disrupting her thoughts.
Draco handed her the bottle of Firewhiskey so she could refill her glass, before helping himself to more as well. He set the bottle between them with a thud and leaned back onto his hands, his legs stretched out in front of him. Hermione mimicked his position, sighing in relief as the blood flowed to her calves. She noticed the pained expression on his face, the tension in his shoulders and the grinding of his jaw. This wasn't exactly how she imagined their New Year starting out.
With a sense of determination flowing through her, Hermione got to her feet and held out her hand to Draco. "Get up," she said.
"Why?" he asked, looking slightly apprehensive.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Just do it."
And so he did. She pulled him before turning the volume on the radio up. The Weird Sisters' new single was now playing loudly, filling the cozy room. With enough alcohol in her system to numb any sense of embarrassment, she spun around with her arms in the air and a smile on her face. She was slightly dizzy as she stood before him, her hand outstretched. "Care to dance?"
Draco looked at her hand and took a hesitant step backwards. "I don't know…"
"Oh come on!" she pleaded. "Don't tell me you want to start out your New Year sitting on the floor moping?"
Before he could answer, Hermione grabbed the bottle of firewhiskey and poured the last of its contents into his cup. "Drink," she ordered. "You probably won't remember this in the morning, now."
To her surprise, Draco obliged, drowning the contents of his cup in one go and with only a moment of hesitation, he grabbed her outstretched hand and spun her underneath his arm. Hermione smiled gleefully as she clumsily came to a stop in front of him again.
"Well come on then," she chuckled. "I know you Purebloods know how to dance."
Draco smirked and in the blink of an eye, pulled her to him, so their fronts were touching and her hand was clasped in his. He had one arm around her waist as they began to move slowly around the room. "Yes, Granger," he murmured, his breath warm on her face. "We Purebloods are quite good at ballroom dancing."
As with every start to a New Year, a slow ballad came on the radio as the host counted down the final seconds of the remaining year. Hermione's head was fuzzy as she and Draco gracefully moved about the room, his arm still firmly around her waist. He was smiling down at her lazily, his hand warm and strong against hers. Their feet moved in perfect rhythm as the seconds drew closer.
"Five...four...three…"
He spun her out once more and drew her back in. They both laughed as she nearly lost her balance. "Two...one!"
The song changed quickly to a more upbeat tune, but Draco stayed where he was. His hand was still clasped around hers, their fronts still touching and her hand still on his shoulder.
"Happy New Year, Draco," she whispered.
"Happy New Year, Granger."
And then his face fell. As the first few seconds of the New Year ticked by, Draco sat down again and studied the empty bottle of Firewhiskey. It was then that Hermione realized Draco was absolutely right.
A New Year meant nothing. Your problems were still there, looming over your head. It was the same bullshit, just a new day.
Hours later, Hermione woke with a start. Her hair was plastered to half her face and there was a line of dried drool from the corner of her mouth to her chin. There was a dull pounding behind her eyes that reached behind her ears and her mouth was as dry as a desert. She looked around the Room of Requirement wildly, but found that she was alone. Her heart filled with disappointment as she laid back down on the floor. Of course he's gone, she thought to herself.
She waited until the room stopped spinning before she sat up to pack up her things and head back to the common room for a shower. As she cleaned up the last of the sweets' wrappers, she noticed a note sitting on one of the chairs by the table. She wandered over and picked it up.
Had some things to take care of. See you at dinner?
Hermione crumpled the note, contemplating ripping it to shreds. Instead, she stuffed it into the depths of her bag. She wasn't surprised that he was gone, but she'd just hoped that maybe...maybe when she woke up and he would still be there.
She didn't know when they fell asleep, all she remembered was watching the rise and fall of chest as her eyes grew heavier and heavier. She pulled on her shoes and tied her back into a ponytail before taking one last look at the room, and wrenched the door open.
When she reached The Fat Lady, she saw that she was slumped against the edge of her painting, her eyes barely open. Hermione stopped and cocked her head. It was The Fat Lady who spoke first, however. "Hungover too, darling?" she croaked.
Hermione nodded. "A bit," she admitted, shuffling her feet.
"Wine?" The Fat Lady asked lazily.
"Firewhiskey," she replied with a shake of her head.
"Hmm."
Hermione waited for a moment before addressing her problem at hand. "Erm...I don't think I was ever informed of a new password…"
The Fat Lady had dozed off for a moment but jumped when Hermione spoke. "Hm? Oh, yes, the password…" she trailed off. "Dear, it doesn't change to abstinence until Friday."
"Oh," she said. "Baubles, then."
The Fat Lady nodded before she swung open, allowing Hermione to climb through.
Hermione trudged upstairs, threw her bag down on her bed and drew herself a much needed hot bath, where she could wallow in her thoughts in peace.
Hermione had not seen or heard from Draco since dinner on Wednesday and it was now Friday morning. She was practically seething at this because in a few hours time, everyone would be back at Hogwarts and Draco was nowhere to be found. Hermione angrily packed up her books and pushed her chair away from the table, not caring that the chair had bumped into the bookcase behind her.
She had come to enjoy the last bit of peace she would get in the library and had been hoping Draco would show up and join her, but after being there for almost three hours, she'd given up. Her back was stiff and her bum had gone numb. They really need to get more comfortable chairs, she thought bitterly to herself as she walked along the fourth floor corridor.
"'Ello 'Ermione!" said a booming voice behind her.
Hermione turned around to see Hagrid striding towards her, a wide grin stretching across his features. "Oh," she said tiredly. "Hello, Hagrid."
He frowned when he noticed the crestfallen look on her face. "Somethin' the matter?"
Hermione shook her head. "No, just a bit tired I suppose. I had loads of homework over break," she lied.
Hagrid didn't seem to believe her but merely hummed and nodded. "Why don't yeh come round my place after lunch?"
She pondered the offer for a moment. It had been a while since she'd been to visit Hagrid, and it would be nice to get out of the castle. It might even distract her from thinking about Draco, which she seemed to be doing twenty-four seven these days.
"I will," she promised. "Three o'clock?"
Hagrid nodded and patted her on the shoulder before turning around to the way he came.
Hermione groaned inwardly as she made her way up the Grand Staircase after just having come back from Hagrid's. The Entrance Hall and corridors were flooded with students, all scrambling to see their friends or head back to their dormitories.
She hoped that maybe Harry and Ron hadn't arrived yet and she would be able to sneak up to the girl's dormitory for the rest of the evening but with her hand clenched involuntarily around a scrolled bit of parchment in her right hand, she couldn't. Dumbledore had stopped her in the Entrance Hall and asked her to deliver the note directly to Harry, leaving her no choice but to wait up for her friends. When she arrived at The Fat Lady, she saw Harry, Ron and Ginny standing there looking confused and annoyed.
"Well how are we supposed to know the new bloody password?" Ron asked crossly.
"There's no need to shout," The Fat Lady said curtly.
"Harry!" Hermione called, completely ignoring Ron.
Harry shot her a quizzical look as he took in her appearance, as she was bundled from head to toe. "I was off visiting Hagrid," she explained as she grew closer. She sighed deeply. "So, have a good Christmas?"
Ron started to speak, but Hermione ignored him and in instead handed him the note from Dumbledore. "I'm supposed to give this to you."
Harry took it and tucked it into his pocket. The Fat Lady made a scoffing sound, her arms crossed over her chest. Hermione thought she still looked ill. How much wine did she have exactly?
"Oh, right," Hermione said abruptly. "Abstinence."
The Fat Lady nodded and swung open, allowing them to enter the common room. Ron and Ginny climbed in first, with Harry and Hermione bringing up the rear.
"Erm, what's wrong with The Fat Lady?" Harry asked, glancing back at the backside of the portrait.
"Oh," she said. "She's still a bit hungover from New Year's."
Once inside, Hermione and Harry secluded themselves in a quiet corner of the common room. Ginny had disappeared, probably to meet Dean, and Lavender had flung herself into Ron's arms the moment she saw him walk through the portrait hole. They sat down at a small table as Harry read the message from Dumbledore.
"Brilliant!" he said excitedly. "I've got a lesson with Dumbledore tomorrow night."
"That's great, Harry-"
"How was your Christmas, Hermione?" he asked, but Hermione could tell he was itching to pick up their conversation from the start of Christmas Holidays.
"It was alright. Nothing exciting or unusual, really," she said flippantly. "What about Christmas at Ron's?"
"Hermione, please just try and patch things up between you two," Harry pleaded
"No," she said sternly.
"It's been two weeks. I thought this would-"
She held up a hand to silence him. If Ron was still acting like an arse, she wouldn't be speaking to him. Not only did she have no desire to witness Ron and Lavender's snogging sessions, but he hadn't apologized for mocking her in class. He was a different person after Lavender jumped down his throat the first time.
"I'm not the one who overindulged on wine," she said in a tone that left Harry no room to argue. Firewhiskey, yes. But Harry didn't need to know that.
Harry took that as his cue to launch into everything he'd been waiting two weeks to tell her. He recounted the night of Snape and Draco's argument, which she had been horrified to learn she had been right; of course Harry overheard that, but she gave him the courtesy of listening as he rambled. When he finished, she didn't say anything at first. She hadn't completely forgotten Draco's argument with Snape, but it had slipped to the back of her mind over the holidays.
"Look, Harry," she began, and he sighed, sinking back in his chair. "Isn't it possible that-"
"Snape was just pretending and it was all really on Dumbledore's orders so they could find out what Malfoy's up to?" he finished dully. "Yeah, I thought you might say that."
Hermione bit her lip. She really didn't want to admit it to herself, but the facts were hard to deny. "I'm not saying he's not up to something," she said slowly. "But it's not our business, Harry. Besides," she said, sitting up a little straighter. "I think you've got more important things to worry about other than what Draco's up to." She nodded at the parchment lying on the table between them.
He eyed her suspiciously, but said nothing other than, "I just wish I knew why Dumbledore's showing me all these memories."
"Me too, Harry," she sighed.
There were loads of things she wish she knew the reasonings behind. Draco's strange disappearances, his argument with Snape and his cryptic comments about himself on New Year's Eve. But she supposed she would either have to wait and see if the answers became clear in time, or if she'd have to find them herself.