Hogwarts Castle
They both froze. Hearts pounded in their chest as the obvious steps of the caretaker crept closer, a dull light in the distance of the grand room, lanterned clanked against itself as it rocked in step. A sharp tug on her sleeve and Hermione was pulled down on top of one of the library tables in a way she'd never thought possible. Her knees wobbled.
What was she doing?
Before she could stop and assess the most logical route, Draco tugged her onto the ground and pushed her off through the door, down the stairs and out in the night where rows of quiet greenhouses rested in wait for the start of sun, and of a new day. The air was filled with noise. Wind whistled as it wound through the buildings of glass. Hermione thought their trail stopped, but his hand was still on her. He pulled her behind a nearby greenhouse, peeked from the side to watch and sighed after a few moments.
Hermione just began to unravel, when they shared a gasp, drowned out by the sound of the wind, Filch stepped out of the castle, lantern still in hand. She felt his signature mood: irritation. The man radiated it wherever he went, especially when it considered students in places they shouldn't.
Draco motioned for her to step back, against the greenhouse. Slowly they inched down the lane. The caretaker's footsteps echoed through the emptiness in a break of wind, and Hermione froze in fear.
It was over. They were over.
The thought of losing Draco felt like a knife to her chest, but she knew it was only a matter of time. It couldn't last. All the running and hiding. They were falling apart at the seams with all their fights, ultimately about things out of their control, just their lack of intimacy in each other's daily lives. It yanked them apart every chance. Somehow, they'd managed to keep it together. How? She felt at a loss what was the magic spark between the pair at opposites on everything possible.
Was it the hormones of puberty that kept them so locked in each other's own pleasure that they were growing blind to the incompatibility? There was certainly that aspect to consider.
The risk was too great for them to front alone. It was wrong to hold each other apart so selfishly on the standing that they'd be together. Draco was a Malfoy, with family honor and ancient tradition that bound him to a life so beyond anything her Muggle heart knew, and so, he held great respect from himself and his family honor. Her very existence threatened all that. A lifetime, his entire life, built on to a legacy that she would ruin in a split second.
Once the wind pushed through with icy stings, Draco grabbed hold of Hermione's waist and directed her where to go. His large hands atop her hip bones. She tried to pull away, but he wouldn't release her. She opened her mouth to whisper. He was furious. He shook his head violently. They ducked – more like he ducked them both – behind the last greenhouse. Hands clasped over her mouth as Filch was not too subtle with his movement. The man yelled out in the night for them to come forward and accept their punishment.
She glanced up at Draco and he shook his head.
They waited. It felt like ages, perched up against one another in the blistering cold as they heard Filch grunted high and low in search until he finally stepped through the aisle way to the longest stretch of houses. That was when Draco made his move. Hermione in his grasp just as before, hands on her hips as a steering wheel through obstacles like overgrown vines and large pebbles eager to trip someone unsuspecting.
They ran as hard as they could to the castle. He shoved her inside as swift as he could, before jumping right behind her, careful not to slam the door behind them.
Hermione watched in awe as they ran past the bathroom where she'd been attacked by a Troll, first year. She'd taken the blame for Harry's – Ron was an unwillingly participant – rescue attempt for her, since they'd been the ones to hurt her in the first place. McGonagall was surprised, then, that Hermione found herself in trouble. She long suspected that McGonagall knew from the beginning what truly happened.
The way to the Great Hall and their subsequent dorms was to the left. Draco turned, expecting her to follow. She didn't.
He was halfway gone before he noticed she wasn't behind him.
His eyes lit wild in confusion.
"What are you doing?" He whisper-yelled. "Come on, Hermione. They're going to catch us."
Hermione shook her head refusing to budge. "No. You go. I got you into this mess, it's only fair that I get you out, isn't it? Go. Run. I can distract him a bit longer before he catches me."
The door to the castle opened. The familiar groan of its hinges as the wood swung open signaled the time was soon ending. A point-of-no-return, so to speak.
"You're mental if you think I'm letting you take the blame," he whispered. "Now come on. We can still make it."
A brash moment of tenderness spawned in the openness of the castle corridor between the pair, detention circled overhead like a vulture. Hermione touched Draco's cheeks, trailed down the edge of his taut jaw. Warm, brown eyes drooped in sadness as she regarded him, perhaps for the last time in privacy. Her puffy lips parted to say it, but at the last minute, he pushed her into a classroom behind them and closed the door silently.
It was a prayer they wouldn't be discovered.
He held the latch of the door and listened as Filch hunted their scent down to the corridor. Draco grimaced in disgust as the man sniffed about. There was an echoing meow down the hall. Mrs. Norris, the caretaker's only friend and beloved pet. He greeted her with a kindness that he never cared to show anyone apart from school professors.
"Now where did they get off to?" Filch asked himself aloud.
Hermione stood, intent to open the door and reveal herself before Draco and her were discovered, but he caught her wrist mid-air and twirled her into his arms. He watched his brow furrow as he listened at the door. The faint touch of his cologne aroused. As much as she tried to resist his hold, she didn't want to leave it. She examined him, though not directly, as he focused on Filch.
It was clear now by a murmur of voices, more than one person took to the halls. The other, Hermione couldn't discern who, believed them to be heading toward the Great Hall to get back to student dorms. It was wise, since that had been their plan all along. But Filch's lollygagging ate up most of their time, revealing that if they had kept running, they'd be back by now. In their beds, warm.
She was warm now, just not in the same way. It was her body that warmed when he neared her. The smell of him as he pulled her close, heart pounded in his chest, Draco made her ache with it.
The voices outside stopped. They'd walked away, each in the same direction.
Draco stepped away from the door, a deep sigh birthed to the room.
He released her hands and she rubbed them, just to make him feel guilty. Pain from him long stopped hurting. It was all pleasure.
Hermione stood as he paced the room. Every so often he ran fingers through his slick hair. The grease was limp, nearly useless now. So disheveled and forbidden. A tug in her belly made her gasp out.
Draco startled.
A thick blush came to her face as she ducked away and said, "Sorry."
"What were you thinking?" He gushed suddenly.
She jumped out of her skin at the sudden emergence of his voice. It played through her mind like a record, broken and skipping. What has she been thinking? She was not a reckless person. She took calculated risks, ones she felt weren't truly challenges because she was prepared. Admittedly, she'd thought she was prepared for Malfoy and all the games that came with him, but not the pressure she'd feel on her heart. She was forced to choose a choice that benefitted no one. No one!
"You were just going to take the fall for it? You are a smart girl. You know what Umbridge does in those detentions of hers. I thought you Gryffindors knew better than that."
Hermione gasped. "I wanted to do it for you. Or are you too blind to see that? No, I guess you'd think it was to take away the glory of being a known outlaw. You and your other outlaws wouldn't know loyalty for someone else if it jammed you to the ground. But that's not what we are. Not who I am. I am a Gryffindor. I stand for those that I love, find courage when I have none. All for you, Draco. Don't want to see you hurt by something I did, not in the least."
Draco scoffed. His kicked his feet into empty air as he tried to think. What was there to say to something like that? Sure, his heart beat against his ribs with excitement at her declaration. He thought she was lost to him. But there was his pride that tumbled in. It wrecked through all his confidences and reminded him that he didn't need someone to protect him. It was supposed to be the other way around.
It was the job, the honor bound duty, of someone like him to protect a girl from any harm. She prevented that. She wanted to do that job herself, let him ride off the comforts of her success. There was no way it'd happen.
"You think I'd rather see you in there suffering with the rest of them, like a common hoodlum, than do it myself?" He growled. Draco stepped closer. "It's like you don't know me at all."
She knew he wasn't angry. His eyes were too soft as they admired her now above her head. He was so tall. Draco kept his neck craned down while she gazed up, a crick in the back of her neck formed. It pushed at her nagging, "don't you feel me?", but breaking away from Draco's gray stare was impossible. He captured her, entrapped her in his vibrant web of entanglement and confusion. He, himself, a very puzzle longing to be worked out, solved.
Hermione grasped his cold fingers. The electric shock zapped hers awake, alive with the memory of beating flesh against hers.
Guilt nuzzled its way inside, too, never letting the moment get too off course. Draco had a right to know. She guarded a secret so precious, so terrible, so…important. There was more behind her actions than Draco understood, but if he knew the dire circumstance, there was no way he would not forgive her. It was for their protection. His protection.
She tried to think of a way to say it. There was no way to break it without it being a shock. The secret was secret for a reason.
Draco watched her struggle with words silently. His curiosity stamped inside his gut ready to charge.
"Do you still want to be with me?" He asked gently.
He winced as he said it, instantly regretful. The last thing he wanted to hear was Hermione's rejection. She kept him onward more than any other. Hopeful of what the future might be, could be with the right kind of people to lead there. She was one of those. He felt it. Hermione Granger was a revolutionary in a tiny, hidden package.
Hermione swallowed back a lump in her throat. "Of course. There is no place I'd rather be than in your arms."
"Not even Weasley's?"
She groaned. "Really? The jealousy game, again? I thought you knew better."
"He's a pure blood, too. Dim witted, purely impulsive and not subtle in the least. He is your friend, though. There must be something you find appealing that makes you keep him around, drooling over you," Draco said. "You do have a reasonable explanation for your friendship, don't you? Or is it just a guy on stand-by kind of thing for you?"
He knew better than to cross that line, but he'd had the chance to stew all winter break. There were many thoughts on his mind. She hadn't responded to his letter, in any indication. There was no security. He drifted through the days uncertain if what he felt, what he wanted was in fact aligned with hers.
Current times left little time for anything else, but honesty. They had to trust each other or fall apart.
There was a tiny piece of Draco that suspected she didn't trust him.
"Wow. Really excellent, Draco," Hermione chided. "Are there any other objections you care to throw at me while you're feeling it?"
Draco shrugged, because he knew it'd make her furious. "Just him. Just Weaselbee. Wanna know if you're in love with him or not."
Hermione gasped. The same conversation over and over again left little impact. He was so fraught with worry that every boy who paid her the least bit of attention could steal her on glance! Did he think so little of her commitment? He loved to think of himself so highly. It seemed out of character for him to underestimate the degree of animosity that would come from any Gryffindor being even loosely associated with a Slytherin. A Malfoy was out of the question. Out of the realm of possibility. There was nothing worse that that, and that was what she was.
"I am not in love with Ronald. I love him as my friend, because that's what he is. It is absolutely ridiculous that you have stooped to being jealous of a wizard who is much less qualified and well off as yourself just because you're so insecure that your arrogance won't let you see it for what it really is."
"You love that. 'How it really is'. You know it all, don't you?" He sneered with a scrunched nose. "Go on, now. Don't leave me begging. I want to know about Weaselbee. What is this mysterious truth I simply must know?"
By now, Hermione fumed with disbelief that she could love someone so ignorant of his own feelings. He was so wrapped up in his own world, he failed to see what she did as anything but a chance to make him feel insignificant.
"Ronald Weasley is just a friend. A dear friend, but nothing more," she stated with venom dripping. Her mouth turned numb with anger. "The only way I'd possibly date Ron would be spite you. Merlin knows, I will be the one left broken hearted after all this."
"So it's my fault if you date him, someone I hate?"
He was kicking himself for making her so good at twisting arguments. It was a miracle. In a small moment of pride he realized he'd created a monster with whom he now grappled with for just a small bit forward.
Draco took a few loud breaths. He was heated, but he regained himself quickly. He shifted to a slick mood, suddenly interested with the hall. Again, he pressed his ear against the door. Hermione didn't hear anything.
"We should go," Draco explained, "if we don't want to get caught."
Hermione bit her lip. "Should split up, right? Less chance of getting caught by ourselves."
"Man, you just can't wait to get away from me." The words rolled off his tongue in distaste.
"But Draco…"
He snapped. "Nonsense, Hermione. I won't hear of it. I'm not going to leave you on your own to fend for yourself. Just follow me and don't speak. I'll get you back to your room undiscovered. Just trust me."
They rushed into the hall. Coast was clear.
Hermione sighed as he rushed past. "But, I do trust you," she whispered.
Draco didn't have time. He pulled her along the walls, careful to silence their steps near the intersections. He'd been out of been after curfew more than a few times. The school was different at night, all still and serene. Draco liked that. It spoke to him as he explored darkness with little fear of being observed and being ratted out to his father back home. He let himself be guided.
The pair watched past the Transfiguration and Muggle Studies classrooms. Hermione felt a lump in her throat rise as they came upon the tower. Dumbledore's office, McGonagall's, and even Snape's was there! She pulled back her wrist. He was insane.
Hermione shook her head with wide eyes. She pointed back to the way they'd come. The look in her eyes told her fear before he could ask. He pushed lips together tightly. There was little to urge her forward. Her knees kept her locked in place.
Discovery would come if they stood still much longer.
Draco gently held her hand in his hand and kissed each knuckle until she bit back a shy smile.
"Please," he mouthed. "Trust me."
On track once again, they passed over the covered bridge toward the House dormitories. They were practically there! Hermione started to let her feet roam freely back to her House, but she was pulled back into a nearby closet, smushed against Draco in a very unflattering – that may have been what he was after – position.
"Draco, what are you doing? We're so close," she said, flustered.
"I don't want it to be like this between us. I miss you. I want you." He pushed his forehead up against hers. His hot breath flushed her skin. "Please, stay."
She wrapped her arms around his neck, pushed her cheek against his chest and sighed. "Then you have to trust me. More than you trust anyone else, yeah? And I'll do the same for you."
His head fell against her shoulder. A damp spot appeared quietly. "I hate this, Hermione."
He swallowed back an audible sob. Her heart lurched. Draco never cried. He was so strong, so infinitely distant. There was no one breaking through his shell. Never.
Hermione hugged him closer, and he accepted himself deeper in her embrace.
"I know. I hate it too," she answered softly.
"No. I hate this. It's killing me to keep it up." Another sigh. "Every day I feel like a failure, a traitor, a coward. Then I see you, smiling or being just so irritatingly smart, and I feel rotten. Ashamed of who I am. Ashamed of all I've done. Know the worst part? The only person I want in those times is you. I just want to smell your hair, and feel you sigh beside me. It's just so easy. All of it. You're not complicated, everything else is."
Hermione held him as he sobbed into her shoulder, sure to cast a silencing charm of the closet to keep them protected. It was the last on her mind, being caught, but she wanted Draco comfortable. He was so pent up within his protection, he never let himself slip through because then he felt embarrassed. She hugged until her arms ache. Her kisses on his exposed neck for a bit of reassurance. It was all she could do. There was no other comfort to give.
"I hate this," he whispered again.
The world was messed up. Corrupted. Everything their generation and next ones were entitled to was in danger of blowing to ash and leaving the realm of possibility. Even for kids just as Draco, too scared and bound into a world they didn't chose, forced to destroy it.
She let him weep in her arms for all the bad wills, malcontent and person he had to be, was forced to be, only knew to be before he met her. Draco was chained to the success of the Dark Lord, as she was in truth.
Their lives depended upon outcomes, stacked against the other.
Stray tears splintered the withheld demeanor she constructed. It was Draco's sorrow that ate its way under her sick as a burrowing tick. It fed on his heartbreak, bleeding to hers.
When his hands absently brushed against her cheeks, tears smeared. He pulled it back. But then he saw Hermione's face tortured by the same reality that never left his thoughts.
"Oh, darling," he cooed it so sweetly her pain melted. He rubbed her wet chin, sad smile upon his lips. For a moment he became distracted. She panted against him, teary-eyed and hurt, his despair just as deep. It felt like a moment of pleasure to watch her be so beautiful in the most natural way.
He cleared his throat, and sense of decency. "Listen to me. Listen. I love you, I do. With all my miserable old heart, I love you. And if there is a way, during all this shit, I can come to you, there will be nothing that can stop me. You understand? I will come for you. I will. Don't give up on me, ok? Promise me you won't."
Hermione sniffled back more tears. She tried to logical will them away – he'd said such a great thing – but it made her incredibly distraught. Being away from him in any capacity, not knowing. It was just about the cruelest she could think of.
"Hermione!" He said suddenly. "Promise. Promise me."
Why did it feel like a goodbye?
She wiped her tears away with a quick swipe. "I'll always trust you, Draco. There is nothing so black that will change my heart. Nothing."
"Say it."
"I promise," she murmured.