Close Quarters

"Strange how we decorate pain." -Margaret Atwood

The platform of nine and three-quarters was overcrowded with luggage, familiars, and the teeming, paranoid mass of parents about to send their children off to school.

Draco felt the paranoia distinctly; his skin prickled from the excess electricity, causing his body to twitch involuntarily. His customary black shirt and black trousers abraded against him like it was made from the cheap muggle sheets he slept under at Granger's, instead of expensive Egyptian cotton.

The train's gleaming exterior nearly blinded him in the midday sun. His mother stood in front of him, hands primly clasped and her eyes never leaving his face. His father stood to his left, facing the wall. The cane containing his wand pressed uncomfortably into Draco's shoulder forbidding him from escaping to the train's confines until the lecture was complete.

"You know what to do if you need anything. He will expect you to write home with progress," Lucius ground the word to emphasize its importance, "on a regular basis. This takes precedence even over your classes, Draco. You will not let this family down, do you understand?" Lucius hissed the expectations, the hostility scalding his neck.

The temptation to roll his eyes was strong. Like how you didn't let us down, right Father?

Draco continued to stare at his mother, nearly feasting on the health and vitality her body emanated; a razor thin sliver of hope that he would be able to keep her safe came to life inside him.

Anything to ward off the constant replay of her torture in his head.

Draco lifted his arms to quickly embrace his mother but a sharp, dancing pain on his shoulder stayed him while forcing him to bite his tongue. Hard.

Draco stared back into his Father's granite features; the cane still vibrated with the remnants of the Stinging Hex Lucius wordlessly cast but the force of the cane on Draco's shoulder didn't waver.

"I said, do you understand?"

Draco dropped his head dutifully and replied, "Yes Father."

The train's whistle split the air in warning, leaving Lucius no choice but to remove his cane from Draco. After a quick embrace to his mother- tangling incoherent soothing noises in her hair- Draco boarded the train and headed straight for the Slytherin compartment.

At some point he'd have to sneak away and take care of the tender exposed patch of skin on his shoulder- a parting souvenir from his father.

He kept his eyes trained on the aisle as he maneuvered around the last stragglers and when he couldn't help but pause as his peripherals caught that ludicrous mass of coffee-colored curls, Draco knew this year at Hogwarts would surely be the death of him.

The train just started to pull out of the station and Hermione couldn't help but sigh in relief. The weeks of unpredictability leading up to the start of school left Hermione restless, body and mind. She twirled a handful of hair, despite the frizzy mess that already framed her face, as her thoughts teemed from all the unanswered questions.

Across from her, Harry was equally fidgety. His eyes darted to the compartment door for the tenth time in as many minutes before he caved under the weight of his curiosity.

"What could Malfoy possibly be doing in that store that wasn't Voldemort related?"

Ron winced at the name. "Harry, shh, will you? Bloody hell, mate, you just jump right in."

Hermione glared at one of her two best friends. "Harry, you're starting to sound ridiculous. We have nothing to go on but what we saw, which wasn't much, mind you."

Harry stared at her, unyielding. "It was enough."

The trio lapsed into an uncomfortable silence since everyone refused to budge from their prospective beliefs. Hermione swallowed distressfully at the thought that Harry technically wasn't wrong and yet, she couldn't bring herself to betray Malfoy's secret.

It fluttered around her chest like a hummingbird, the incessant beating in sync with her heart and tickling the bottom of her throat in its attempt to escape.

Hermione's swift inhale pushed it back down; she knew it was safer if it stayed inside of her. At least right now.

The English countryside grew untamed out their window, civilization giving way to farmland and green wilderness. Hermione sat next to the window, savoring the September's sunlight's relative warmth as it poured through the glass. With only the humming of the train on the tracks filling the cabin, Hermione dozed off in the afternoon light.

Tendrils of repressed fantasies curled into her consciousness, the swift movement of a car in the English countryside… the heat rolling off Malfoy's body as music drummed in their ears… innocent brush of fingers in the popcorn container that was so sweet in its triviality that for a moment Hermione feels transported into a romantic comedy.

"'Mione!"

If the voice in her ear didn't jar her back to the present, the hand on her shoulder certainly did. Ron was leaning in close, trying to bring her back to consciousness. "Prefect meeting, Hermione. We have to go."

Ron's arm hadn't moved; he pressed into her almost forcefully. Hermione paused a minute to gather her thoughts.

I have my crush touching me and all I feel is vague annoyance to being wakened? Merlin, the world must be upside down.

Harry stared out the window, affording neither of his friends a farewell glance. "Just so you know," he says to no one in particular, "Slughorn has invited me to his carriage. I will see you later." Ron and Hermione shared a glance, mumbled "okay", and left the carriage- missing Harry slip the invisibility cloak into the back of his jeans.

The prefect carriage at the front of the train was already crowded. Ron snuck into a space near the door as Hermione unknowingly pushed forward, nearer to the Head Boy and Girl. The boy was a Hufflepuff, although his name was eluding Hermione; the girl hailed from Ravenclaw based on the colors of her robes.

"All right, you lot. Let's get started." The boy announced to the cabin. "My name is David and I'm Head Boy this year. This is Nora," he gestured to the blonde girl standing next to him.

The compartment door squeaked open, revealing a latecomer.

"And are we fortunate enough to be led by purebloods this year?" Malfoy's dripping disdain preceded him into the cabin.

All eyes swung to the pompous git, Hermione's included. She watched Malfoy's face almost relax into a sneer as he shouldered past Ron and a 5th year Ravenclaw.

"Sod off, Malfoy!" Ron yelled at his back, his face already blooming to match his hair in color, but Malfoy ignored him as he pressed his way toward the front.

"Enough!" David snapped. "If you don't like who is leading you, Malfoy, you can quietly rescind your position as prefect." Malfoy froze. His eyes narrowed, the gray irises darkening to nearly blend with his pupils.

"Maybe I will," he said, the words pointed and pernicious with intent.

Hermione couldn't pull her eyes from him. He was dressed exactly as he was over the summer, in head-to-toe black. A heavy silver ring, likely a family heirloom, sat on his right ring finger, the green stone like an eye boring into Hermione's gaze.

As David and Nora resumed their speech to the group, Hermione forced her face back on them even as her mind wandered.

It seems like Malfoy is back in all his handsome arrogance.

She involuntarily sucked in a breath, nearly choking on the internal acknowledgment.

Handsome? Not possible. Arrogance couldn't be handsome.

Hermione slanted her eyes to the left as the Head Boy and Girl explained scheduling for rounds. Draco stood mostly out of sight, although she could discern his blond head bowed like he couldn't be bothered by the information they were giving. Hermione returned her gaze forward, biting the smooth flesh of her lower lip.

Definitely not handsome. Not at all.

"Are there any questions?" David asked. The compartment remained silent, save for the shifting of discomfited bodies that were pressed too close together. "Okay then. Come get your schedules for the first two weeks."

The bodies protested as they moved forward together, sidling like a snake. One by one, the prefects collected their schedules and gratefully scooted toward the exit, where cool, fresh air beckoned. Although Hermione was near the front, she hesitated to grab her schedule.

Malfoy moved like a shadow into her peripherals, his body inexorably drawn to hers even with the growing free space of the compartment that would allow him to avoid her entirely.

"Move it, Granger. Some of us are in a hurry," Malfoy snapped as his right arm shoved into her left, the ring grazing her knuckles like a cool breeze.

Goosebumps raced up her skin. She watched him snatch his schedule from Nora's outstretched hand and as he made to stalk past her, Hermione panicked in her desire to stall him.

"S-Sorry, Malfoy," she sputtered, thrown off by the words that tumbled out.

He stiffened, just a moment, before storming through the door and slamming it. Hermione sighed, annoyed but not sure why. By now, Ron had retrieved his own schedule and bumped her shoulder to get her attention. Hermione smiled vaguely at him before taking her own schedule from Nora.

They left, some of the only prefects left in the compartment. Malfoy spirited down the aisle, his tall frame shrouded in black clothes and- by Hermione's best guess- a black mood. Ron stopped them at the trolley and after loading their arms with chocolate frogs, pumpkin pasties, and Bertie Bott's, the two made their way back to their compartment to dig into their sugar-laden lunch as they idly remarked on Harry's extended disappearance.

Draco, so vexed that he felt his eyebrow twitching, paused just shy of the Slytherin compartment door. He raked his hands through the ice-blond locks, disheveling the precise grooming job he fussed over this morning. Draco settled an impatient look on his face, his brows creasing over flashing gray eyes, knowing that there was no bloody way he'd be able to hide his feelings.

Luckily I can hide the source of them. Damn Granger.

A familiar voice carried over his shoulder, jolting him from his dawdling.

"Have a nice summer, Draco?" Blaise questioned, unwittingly conjuring further thoughts of Granger.

"What's it to you, Zabini?" He snapped before reaching for the door handle. Even with Blaise out of his line of sight, Draco could imagine the smooth one-shoulder shrug to his response.

"Just making conversation. That's what friends tend to do, right?"

Draco wrenched open the door and swiftly entered. Crabbe and Goyle lounged in the back corner with Pansy across from them. Without a word, he settled himself on top of Pansy, his head finding a comfortable pillow in her lap. She greeted Blaise who proceeded to sit across the aisle from them; through half-lidded eyes, Draco thought he saw a flash of white near Blaise's shoulder but Pansy had moved her hands into his already-ruined hair, thoroughly distracting him.

The Slytherin group sat in companionable silence to the point that Draco almost wished someone would start nattering on about the passing countryside.

Pansy broke it. "What did the Professor want, Blaise?" Her long nails scraped against Draco's scalp, not necessarily in a pleasant way. He winced from the intimacy of the act and thought about extricating himself until her question to Blaise, now processed, distracted him.

"What Professor?"

Blaise slanted a look at him, his dark eyes dancing with impatience. "Professor Slughorn. He invited a bunch of students to his compartment for lunch."

That information pulled Draco vertical as the jealousy began to build steam under his skin.

"What students? Why?" he pressed. Blaise turned his head to look out the window looking like a black silhouette against the setting sun. Pansy's fingers skipped across Draco's shoulders, running down his arms, but the eagerness that drove them only served to annoy Draco.

He swatted at her hand and continued to stare impatiently at Blaise, who finally decided to humor the little group with an answer. "He likes to surround himself with so-called talented and famous people. Naturally, Potter was invited. So was Longbottom-"

Draco scoffed, interrupting Blaise's list. "It's a sad day indeed when Longbottom is considered talented." Crabbe and Goyle laughed meanly at his quip but Draco's attention remained fully on his dark friend who returned his stare.

"Also the Weasley girl. Plus Belby, myself, and a few others I don't have the inclination of knowing."

Pansy's warm breath, heavy with the spice from pumpkin pasties, tickled his neck as she moved to lean over Draco. She cackled at Blaise and commented calculatingly, "So you have an inclination to know the Weasley girl?"

Blaise glared at her as Crabbe and Goyle erupted into laughter. Draco, now impatient with Pansy's attentions, shouldered her roughly and then shifted closer to the aisle.

"Perhaps I do, Parkinson." Blaise's voice was laced with sarcasm. "No worse than knowing Granger, I'm sure."

Draco stiffened at Blaise's comment and felt his heart pound fiercely in his chest when Blaise turned curious eyes on Draco. The stare was broken as Goyle stood up, still laughing, to grab his bag above Blaise's head. Draco's eyes drifted upwards, noting the air as it rippled strangely in the space that Goyle's bag just vacated.

Gray eyes narrowed before returning to his friends.

The remainder of the train ride to Hogwarts was uneventful, punctuated by Blaise's increasingly annoying, contemplative stares in Draco's direction. With the screeching of the train whistle announcing their arrival in Hogsmeade, the other Slytherins in the compartment gathered their belongings and headed for the exit. Draco tarried in his seat, his eyes surreptitiously on the overhead baggage rack, especially as Crabbe's fumbling for his rucksack caused another ripple to distort the empty space.

"Draco, are you coming?" Pansy queried from the door, her lips tilted into an impatient pout. Blaise stood directly behind her, his penetrating gaze all the more startling as his dark-skinned form disappeared in the recesses of the train aisle.

Draco waved them off. "I'll be right there. I want to check something." Pansy hesitated until Blaise, thankfully, pulled her from the now-empty compartment. Draco strolled to the door and clicked it into place, slowly lowering the blind over the door's small window.

He gripped his wand tightly in his left hand, agitation and a healthy dose of paranoia driving the magic down into his fingertips, awaiting release.

In a tight voice he remarked, "Your investigative skills are getting sloppy, Potter."

Draco swung around and pointed his wand at the space above the overhead storage. "Petrificus Totalus!"

His target hit the floor with a satisfying thud, although he remained invisible under that damnable cloak.

Draco strutted over; he twirled his wand between his fingers as he tried to curtail the itch to inflict further damage.

"Then again, what would you possibly be investigating? A little bit jealous of how the Slytherins live, are we?" With a flourish, Draco pulled the cloak from Potter's frozen body, his face stuck in a comical expression of shock. Draco chuckled unkindly before leaning over Potter's body.

"Stay the fuck away from me this year, Potter."

Draco straightened, brushing a hand down his smooth ensemble. He tilted his head consideringly. Perhaps there's a different way to release this violent itch.

Without flinching, he kicked Potter in the face and grinned with the sound of bone cracking on contact.

That's better.

He flung the cloak back over Potter's body, now growing sticky from the flow of blood from his nose.

"Enjoy your ride back to London, as a matter of fact."

Draco turned on his heel and then grabbed his leather case from his seat before making his way off the train.

Despite the sense of victory that infused his walk with pep, an unwilling and curious mx of emotions battled for the forefront. The paranoia from before turned his stomach as he wondered if Granger had, in fact, betrayed him to her precious dimwit friends.

Underneath the paranoia though, simmered an altogether uncomfortable sensation… if he didn't know any better, he would appraise it to be chagrin.

For he knew that to injure Potter was to incite the disapproval of his friends and it wouldn't be long before Granger stormed down on him for his behavior.

He really shouldn't find the idea so stimulating.

oOo

Draco was not remotely interested in pretending he gave a shit about prefect duties but when he saw who he was paired with their 1st night back, he felt it prudent to continue the act.

For the time being, at least.

As he waited in the 4th floor corridor, Draco's stomach rolled uncomfortably. He pressed on his abdomen to calm the nerves.

Perhaps this isn't a great idea. Other than Snape, she is the only one to know what I am.

Draco pressed harder. After spending the remaining days of holiday numbed by firewhisky, the severity of his situation spread like poison in his veins. There was no doubt that his death- and the death of his family- was the endgame.

Draco turned to stalk back to the dungeons but was arrested by the sparking, bushy hair that sped toward him.

Granger's eyes glared with a curious mix of accusation and worry as she shoved him roughly, her hands pressed against his chest.

"Why did you feel the need to kick Harry's nose in? Is there any chance of you two ever growing up?"

Draco instinctually ensnared Granger's wrists, squeezing firmly to remind her who had the strength advantage.

"Good to see you too, Granger," he drawled though he feared he couldn't keep the veracity of that statement out of his eyes.

Damn it all, I am actually pleased to see her.

Her skin was warm on his palms and that sinful scent of oranges wafted up as she struggled to break free of his hold.

Obliging her, he released her wrists but couldn't help running his fore finger along the inside of her palms, relishing the shiver that rippled through her body.

It's good to feel her too.

Their eyes connected after he let go and Granger's pupils dilated. Warmth unwillingly pooled in Draco's belly.

All right, stupid. Time to back away from the edge.

He turned from Granger and strode away swiftly, grateful of each step that widened the distance between their bodies.

"Malfoy!" she huffed irritatingly while the soles of her shoes slapped against the stone floor. He slowed minutely but kept his eyes trained ahead; the churning waves of anxiety were back in his stomach, replacing the addictive warmth. Draco knew it wouldn't be long before Granger's curiosity got the better of her… he only hoped the focus would remain on Potter.

Halfway down the corridor, once they settled into a suspicious silence, Granger deftly broke it with dramatic flair by flicking his wrist hard.

"Ow!" Draco exclaimed as he shook the discomfort from his arm.

She cocked a lopsided smile. "Must be nice to have that back," she noted, her eyes dipping to indicate the Hawthorn in his hand.

Draco narrowed his eyes in warning and fisted his wand. She wouldn't be that fucking reckless…

Granger looked around and dropped her voice to a whisper, the smile disappearing from her face. "I wasn't sure if I would see you at the start of this school year… I've been having horrible feelings, you see-"

The worry in her voice lifted him like a well-cast Levicorpus; it had to be why he nearly flew her into a dark alcove on their right.

"Who have you told? Is that why Potter was trailing me on the train?" The questions fumbled over Draco's lips as the panic rose in his chest. He gripped her by the shoulders, pressing her body flush against the stone wall. In the dark enclosure, Granger's eyes sparked with ire and the fire in those caramel irises was the only thing Draco could see; everything else was by feel.

"How about we circle back to my original question and you tell me what happened on the train?" she said tightly, controlled as if the small space they were crowded in wouldn't contain her aggravation. Draco felt the impatience at her stubbornness rise like bile in the back of his throat but he swallowed it down; she reminded him of a damn niffler, the two incessant in their need to sniff out valuables.

"There's nothing to tell," Draco replied.

Granger bristled and immediately fought against his hold. Draco reluctantly dropped his hands but positioned his body so that she couldn't stomp out of the alcove.

"What is your problem, Malfoy? Haven't we already established some trust between us?"

He snorted, reflecting back on those fake Ministry names and then he hardened, internally cringing at the result of them.

Gray eyes bore into her. "Hardly."

She stared at him, the ire in her expression softening to one of hurt. Before he could read too much into it Granger dropped her head, their bodies so close that Draco could smell the sweet scent of the shampoo she used on those uncontrollable curls. It was vanilla, like her soap, the sweet potency cut by a woody tinge of rosemary.

Does she have to smell so bloody edible?

"Perhaps we should play another round of truth or dare so that you can be reminded of what I put on the table the first time around."

How about I just put you on a table?

In the darkness, Draco pinched his thigh hard and inwardly cursed the lustful direction of his thoughts. There was no time this year to waste on such pursuits, not that Granger was even worth pursuing.

She tilted her head back up to study his face, seemingly unruffled by his lack of reply. "Or," she pondered, "I could just claim my prize now. I'm rather curious about your mother."

Her screams echoed in his mind, slowly eroding the self-control that Draco was desperately relying on to see him through this miserable task. Even days later, the memories of her torture were never further than a hair trigger away, something Draco found agonizing as he believed his Occlumency skills to be exceptional.

What the fuck good are they if they can't block out thoughts when needed?

He raked his hands through his hair, an angry exhale escaping from his mouth. Granger had taken to leaning against the wall in a superficially casual stance, the low light from the corridor likely throwing Draco's form in relief. If it were anyone else, he suspected he would have cursed them into next week for bringing up his Mum but no, it was Granger.

Go fucking figure.

He eventually relented under her unwavering gaze. "Potter was spying on the compartment. He must have snuck in when Blaise and I returned from our meetings. We didn't talk of anything but Slughorn and his stupid club but I gathered why Potter was there."

Draco looked pointedly at Granger now, moving closer so that he could catch the deceit flicker in her eyes. She never broke eye contact but she did inhale swiftly as his body encroached on her space.

She rewarded him though- truth for truth. "Harry thinks you're a Death Eater after we saw you enter Borgin and Burkes that day in Knockturn Alley."

Draco stiffened. Granger tentatively placed a hand on his left arm, her fingers recklessly close to his Dark Mark. He made to recoil but she gripped him, forcing his attention back to her face.

"I didn't tell him and I didn't confirm his suspicions. You can trust me," she whispered as her other hand lightly creeped up his chest. "I don't know why but you can."

Against his better judgment, Draco sagged with visible relief. He knew there was terrible risk for one of the Golden Trio to know his secret but he also knew, at this point, that Granger was no liar. At least, not a good one.

Draco's forehead connected gently with the wall right over Granger's shoulder. Her hands turned to vises on his body as if she could hold up his weight; he didn't bother to correct the ridiculous notion.

For a few moments, Draco just focused on the rhythm of their steady breaths as they inched closer to rapid little pulls of air, out of sync and toeing the line of wild. He turned his head just enough so his eyes could rake over her profile, startled to see that her own wide brown irises were staring at him.

He exhaled and nodded his head once, briskly, the gesture unconsciously bringing him closer to her face.

Granger leaned into the admission like it was a breath of fresh air. The smallest slice of space kept their lips from connecting. Draco felt inexorably drawn into those bottomless brown eyes.

Then his mother's slight and listless frame flashed in his mind. He pulled back abruptly. Cold air and logic rushed into the deserted space.

"Finish up the round for me," Draco clipped before he bolted from the alcove and back to his dormitory.