Chapter Twenty: The Fallout
Draco paced anxiously in the Room of Requirement, not sure when Blaise would return from Hogsmeade. He'd been on his feet, shuffling around, for an hour now. The vanishing cabinet still needed repairing, but today it stood alone, forgotten, with Draco's notes and a few books scattered at its base.
I shouldn't have let him do it, Draco thought. What if he mucks it up? What if he gets caught?
A startling image of Blaise, locked behind bars at Azkaban prison, overcame Draco. He groaned, kneading his hands together.
He'd planned for months. There were measures taken to ensure success and anonimity. The plan really shouldn't fail; so why did this painful foreboding fill Draco's head?
I should've been the one in Hogsmeade. Blaise should be in the common room right now, drinking cocoa and getting beaten at wizard's chess by Theo... Not out there, with a cursed necklace up his sleeve...
Then, another excruciating doubt came to mind: what if Draco's tampering with the necklace had failed? What if he'd actually done something worse to it, and it could somehow backfire? Or what if it would still kill the next person to touch it?
Draco threw himself at the nearest wall, sliding down to sit on his haunches, trying to reign in his fright. He clenched and unclenched his fists. Nothing, short of standing in Voldemort's own presence, had ever caused him this much stress.
He heard the rattle of a door handle turning, followed by footsteps. Blaise appeared from around a stack of broken furniture, his face stony.
Fear seemed to freeze over Draco's entire body. This was it. They were done for.
Blaise opened his mouth, but it took a moment before he could get out any words.
"It didn't kill anybody," he began. "But Katie Bell, the Gryffindor chaser, has been sent to St. Mungo's."
Draco looked down, trying to find his voice.
"What happened?"
"Her friend Leanne asked too many questions," Blaise explained. "They got in a quarrel over it, I think. I wasn't there. I just saw her - she was in the air, Draco - and Leanne and Potter and the others managed to pull her down, but -"
"'Potter and the others?'" Draco's head snapped up. "Who?"
"Weasley - er, Ron Weasley - and Hermione."
Hermione. Her name hit like a brick.
"She didn't touch it, did she?"
"No, mate." Blaise swallowed. "Hagrid got them all away. He carried Katie back to the castle, and made sure no one touched anything but the wrapping. They got back just when I did."
Draco breathed out slowly. Then, almost as an afterthought, "Are you alright?"
Blaise nodded. "I will be."
They fell silent.
So that was that. Dumbledore would know, now. They all would. And Potter would no doubt be singing out his suspicions of Draco Malfoy, making sure everyone knew who'd done it.
"Did anyone see you?" he asked.
"I was around the pub, yeah," Blaise answered. "But no. I made sure it went smoothly. I was careful."
As much as Draco wanted to grill his friend further on the topic, he knew it wouldn't do any good. Blaise was already proven to be quite powerful, and he was highly clever as well. If Draco could place his trust in anyone, it was Blaise.
He gave a short nod of acceptance.
Blaise rubbed at his face tiredly. "Look, mate... I'm headed downstairs. I might turn in early - tell Pansy I had one too many firewhiskeys, or something." He surveyed his still-crouching friend worriedly. "You should think about doing the same. Some rest would do you good."
He waited for a response, but none came, and so Blaise turned and retreated slowly out of the room. Draco heard the door click shut.
Sprawling helplessly on the cold stone floor, Draco closed his eyes. Maybe Azkaban wouldn't be so bad. After all, what were a couple dementors compared to the unforgiving wrath of Lord Voldemort?
...
Later that evening, when Draco emerged hungry and sore from his stint in the room of requirement, he trudged defeatedly toward the dungeons. He half-expected McGonagall or Dumbledore himself to pop up and interrogate him; despite Draco's concern, though, no one bothered. The few students he passed by didn't even spare him a glance, aside from a mousy second-year girl who smiled shyly in his direction.
He swung by the great hall in case dinner might still be underway - he had no idea what time it was - but the cavernous room stood empty. Draco's stomach growled, yet he felt nauseous from stress.
Slinking down the stairs to the dungeons, Draco tried to dust off his trousers and make himself look presentable. Then a hand shot out from the nearest broom cupboard, grasped a handful of his shirt, and yanked him inside.
"Oy!" Draco yelped, stumbling into sudden darkness as the door closed.
"Shh! Snape's not far off -"
A wave of relief came over Draco as he recognized that voice.
"Lumos," Hermione whispered, and there, only a foot away, the tip of her wand lit with a soft glow. It illuminated her face, which was screwed up in concentration. Footsteps sounded outside the door. They stopped. Then they started up again, slower than before, and gradually faded away.
"Haven't you heard of muffliato?" Draco asked.
Hermione glared at him. "Did you do it?"
Her accusatory tone caught Draco off-guard. He brushed back his (admittedly unwashed) hair.
"Do what?"
"Don't. Harry is absolutely convinced it was you."
"I -" Draco was about to claim ignorance, but stopped himself. "If you're talking about Katie Bell, then yes. I suppose that was my fault."
"Of course I'm talking about Katie Bell!" Hermione hissed, jabbing a finger at his chest. "The whole castle's heard by now! She's in St. Mungo's, who knows if she'll even recover. You nearly killed her, Draco! And I defended you - I told Harry you wouldn't possibly -" she cut herself off, rubbing her face in frustration. "Don't tell me Voldemort asked you to get rid of a seventh-year girl!"
"It wasn't meant for her."
Hermione eyed him suspiciously. "No. It was for Dumbledore, wasn't it?"
Draco didn't respond.
"She was in a hurry to get back to the castle, and who here would Voldemort most want to get rid of? Aside from Harry."
"Is there a reason why we're in a broom closet right now?" Draco asked, exhausted of this subject. "I can think of far more comfortable places to interrogate someone."
"Comfort isn't always an affordable luxury," Hermione snapped. "Besides, everyone who's acting oddly right now is suspect. I couldn't exactly be seen wandering around the dungeons, could I?"
"Then keep out of the dungeons."
Hermione fell silent, staring at Draco in surprise. He wasn't even sure why he said it - he wanted her there, he wanted her to keep nearby... But look what happened to people who got close. After all, Hermione was there at The Three Broomsticks. What if she'd touched the necklace instead of Katie?
Draco shuddered.
"You don't mean that." Hermione suddenly looked very unsure of herself. She pulled her robes close, lowering her wand.
"No," Draco said, "But it would be better. You know it would. I don't want this, not any of it - but he won't let me stop. It's dangerous."
"There's always a way, Draco -"
"Oh, come off it," he said, rolling his eyes. "You know there isn't. This isn't some little club I've gotten tired of. This is Death Eaters. This is fucking Voldemort. There is no way out."
"So you'll just blindly obey, then?"
"No, I'll just need to be smart. And defying him outright would be deadly. Failing him might even be worse."
Hermione pursed her lips, clearly unhappy. What did she expect?
Draco shifted uncomfortably in the cramped space. The handle of a broom poked him in the back, but if he stepped forward he'd be staring down his nose at Hermione. Before, all he'd wanted was to be this close - now it just made him angry.
"What right do you have, anyway?" he said suddenly. "You drag me in here and spew your accusations, try to tell me I can make it out, but where were you months ago? Where were you when I needed some bloody help?"
Hermione went stiff. "I told you, it wasn't -"
"No. Two months, Hermione. I went on a bloody limb and asked you - should I have begged, maybe?" Draco saw the way her expression changed, falling quickly from anger to worry, but he didn't stop. "In two months, you really never had the time to write a quick 'sorry, been busy, get back to you later?'"
She looked down, her eyes sparkling. Draco had never seen Hermione Granger look ashamed, but here it was. She sniffed.
"Don't judge me," he growled. "Don't you dare judge me, Hermione. It could have been different. But it's not."
"It wasn't that simple, Draco," she said quietly. "I wanted to - but -"
"But what?"
Hermione looked up. "But it took a lot more effort than I expected not to hate you."
Those last two words dropped like stones in the pit of Draco's stomach. She'd just reaffirmed his fears from the summer, the fears she'd managed to dispel back on the Hogwarts Express.
"I don't hate you, Draco," she continued quickly, "I promise. Not a bit. I'm... Mad. I'm angry with you, but I'm scared for you too. There has to be another way."
"There isn't," he said.
She didn't argue further.
While Draco tried to fend off overwhelming resignation, Hermione shivered. Her magic flickered.
"He'll kill my mother if I step out of line," Draco said quietly. Hermione's gaze went soft. "Not immediately, mind you. I've seen him do it - kill, torture - he casts out punishments and rewards at the same time, you know. Whenever a faithful servant's done well, Voldemort makes sure to give his praise alongside a good show against someone else. Keeps things balanced, that way. Peter Pettigrew - Wormtail, he calls himself - he stares at her. He's not the only one, but he's at least been faithful to Voldemort. So if I fail..." he couldn't finish. He'd spent enough time trying not to think of the reality of this particular situation. "Don't hate me. I think I hate myself enough for the both of us, I just don't see any way around it."
Instead of replying, Hermione reached out her hand, finding his in the shadows of their broom cupboard. When she grasped it, fingers icy, Draco was shaking.
"I didn't know, Draco."
He nodded. "Yeah."
"Do you think... Is there a way I can help you, now?"
Draco carefully considered this. It had been enough of a risk to let Blaise in, he couldn't possibly include anyone else. He felt a bit better now that she'd offered, though.
"I don't know," he said carefully, "Can I think about it?"
Hermione opened her mouth, but instead of trying to convince him, she merely nodded. It would have to do, for now.
Draco glanced down at their hands. "You're freezing."
"Yes, well... Next time I sneak through the dungeons, I'll bring some gloves."
They smiled at each other, though it felt a little strained. It would take more time to forgive one another, but at least for now, they could move on.
"Draco?"
When he looked up, he found Hermione's big golden eyes uncertain and imploring.
"Yeah?"
"You... you fancy me, don't you?"
His pulse picked up. For some reason, questions like that always made Draco nervous - he thought that by now he'd have his emotions in check, but apparently not.
He tried not to let his voice waver when he answered. "Yes, I do."
Hermione smiled, but looked uncertain again. "It's just - well, I know what our friends would say, but they'd get over it I'm sure. Everyone else who gets together goes to Hogsmeade, you know. I'd - I think I'd like to go with you."
At Draco's blank expression (he blinked rapidly, still processing what Hermione proposed) she kept on. "I mean, we wouldn't go to Madam Puddifoot's or anything - I don't think you'd like that - but there's the Three Broomsticks, and the bookstore, and... and..." she trailed off nervously.
Draco still hadn't come up with a good response. On the one hand, his heart felt like it might just burst out of his chest, it had swollen up so much - Hermione Granger was asking him out to Hogsmeade? How in Merlin's name had he managed that?
On the other hand, he couldn't say yes. It wasn't safe. Word would travel quickly, especially over news that big, and even among the students it could get around to important ears. Ears like Snape's, for example, or Vince's father's, or Gregory's... Ears that could easily transfer word directly to Voldemort himself, even if they didn't mean to.
But Hermione was pulling away, assuming the worst, thinking she'd been rejected. Draco squeezed her hand.
"No, it's alright," he said, giving a reassuring smile to buy some time.
He wasn't sure what to follow that with, but it was too late. Hermione, a moment ago terrified and embarrassed that she'd been so forward, now had what she needed to feel confident. She sighed in relief. Then, before Draco knew what was happening, she reached up to his face and kissed him, wrapping her arm around his neck. She thought he'd agreed.
Instead of feeling panic like he knew he should (how could he get out of this one?) Draco felt Hermione press up against him, rising to her tip-toes, and he forgot about anything else. He snaked an arm around her waist, gripping behind her slender neck to pull her in further, kissing her deeply.
Hermione dug her fingernails into Draco's back, sending electricity down his spine. He moaned, he couldn't help it. Against his chest, he could feel the swell of her small breasts, which only raised more curiosity in the back of his mind. His imagination ran wild. His body began reacting.
She tasted like mint, like she'd brushed her teeth within the hour, and Draco had to wonder if she'd hoped for this - if her feelings for him had actually won out against her anger, even after the incident with Katie. Was it really so crazy for her to fancy him? Maybe, just maybe -
Draco broke away, breathing heavily, but after one glance at Hermione's beautiful face (he could tell even in the dark - when did the light go out?) he growled and ducked his head into her neck, kissing along her jaw. Hermione let her head fall back with a satisfied gasp, and Draco nipped lightly at her smooth skin.
This uncontrollable urge reared up inside Draco; in all his moments with Daphne, he'd never felt this desperate. It was like he needed Hermione, he needed to discover every inch of her skin -
He slipped a hand under the collar of her robe, and under the shirt beneath, clutching her bare shoulder. At any moment, Hermione would push him away, tell him they were being ridiculous... Except that moment never came. Instead she gripped him tighter, even raking a hand up through his hair and clenching a handful in her fist.
Fuck, he thought, the only literate thing in his head. He sucked hard on the nook of her shoulder, hoping to leave a mark. Somewhere deep in his mind rose a second word: mine.
Hermione pulled him by his hair, yanking him away; she paused to give him a wide-eyed look, before slowly dipping her head toward his neck. She nudged his chin aside with her nose. Draco closed his eyes, trying to commit this sensation to memory.
Gently at first, Hermione trailed kisses down Draco's neck; then she slowed, opening her mouth to bite at him like he'd done. He ran a hand across her collarbone, then slid his palm down her breast and side - over her blouse this time, just to be safe - wondering when he should stop himself.
It was when Draco felt Hermione trembling that he came-to. He pulled back and cupped a hand under her cheek, hoping he hadn't pushed her too far; Hermione panted softly, her eyes searching.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I haven't - not before, really - oh, I must be awful..."
"Awful?" Draco repeated. He sounded as stunned as he felt. "No, Merlin no, Hermione. You're great."
At his reassurance, she gave him a small smile.
"So... does this mean we're a couple, then?"
Draco blinked. "Er, I don't know. It's just..."
"Just what?" Hermione asked, pulling away.
"Just... I don't know, that's all. Our friends will go batshit, for one -"
"They'll get over it."
"- it's not safe, either -"
"I'm a bloody muggle-born, Draco!" Hermione argued, exasperated. "I'll never be safe, and being with you won't change that."
This gave Draco pause. Was she really fighting for him?
He felt her brush his hand away from her face.
"So what is it, then?" she asked, her voice rising in pitch. "I'm good for a snog in a broom cupboard, but you won't be seen with me in public?"
"Hermione, no," Draco reached out, but she slapped his hand. "When I say it's not safe, I don't think you understand exactly -"
"Don't understand? You don't think I understand?" Soon she'd be heard well into the corridor. "I'm muggle-born, I'm Harry Potter's best friend, I've fought in the bloody Department of Mysteries and been cursed to near-death -"
"I know you have, I didn't mean -"
"- so don't tell me I don't understand what's unsafe!"
"Hermione." Draco placed both hands firmly on her shoulders, trying to calm her down. She just needed to listen, then she'd see, surely. She'd know why he couldn't date her out in the open.
"Why won't you be with me?" she asked, voice broken.
Draco sighed, hating the way she sounded right now. "I want to, please believe me. I just don't want to be the reason why you get hurt, and the more people who know..."
"I don't know," Hermione said. "I can't think of many things that would hurt worse than this."
"Please, 'Mione -"
"Don't you call me that!"
Draco's mouth snapped shut, and he recoiled. He hadn't meant to call her anything except Hermione, his Hermione, but the nickname seemed to have drawn venom. He felt at a total loss. How could he convince her that it was too dangerous to be out in the open together? How could he explain the kind of giant target they'd have on her back - and his - if anyone knew?
"I'm sorry," he said honestly. "I'm not trying to hurt you. Please. I don't ever want to hurt you."
She shook her head, not meeting his eyes now. "It's fine."
"No, it's not. You're still upset."
"I'm still trying to wrap my head around how you could tell me no, after you let me snog you, and after you tried to feel me up. That's all."
"I didn't mean it like that!" Draco tried. "I wanted to tell you, but then you went ahead and - and practically seduced me -"
"So it's my fault, now? You're unbelievable!" Hermione shoved him, sending Draco back into the myriad of brooms and mops stacked in the cupboard. They rattled loudly but caught him all the same. "I wasn't seducing you, maybe you're just too bloody easy to rile up -"
"Me?" he laughed. "Me? I'm sorry, was I the one locking people in broom cupboards and throwing myself at them?"
That seemed to do it. Hermione growled in frustration, gripping her wand in hand. Draco realized with a pang that tears streamed down her face.
"Fine," she hissed, "I take it back. Don't go to Hogsmeade with me, fine. Don't tell your friends you fancy me, fine. But I'll have you know that I do not need to throw myself at someone to keep their attention, Draco. You're not the only one who fancies me in this school."
He felt his face growing hot. An irrational anger gripped him.
"Go on then," he dared her. "Let me know how that works out for you, yeah?"
Hermione gave Draco one last deadly glare before throwing open the door and stalking out into the corridor. He felt even angrier that she'd listened. Words bubbled up in his throat.
"So glad we could have this little chat, Granger."
She halted, but only for a moment. If Draco weren't mistaken, she walked even more quickly afterward, and her head ducked a bit lower.
Draco watched her go, furious at himself for being mean and desperate with Hermione in face of her stubbornness. When she disappeared around the corner, Draco rubbed his neck where she'd bit him only moments ago. If it were at all possible on this already-disastrous day, he really felt like he'd just mucked everything up even more.
A/N: Thanks for reading. You requested more Dramione, so there you go.
I realize that Hermione is acting quite immature. Let's face it, she's extremely intelligent, but she can tend toward being overly-emotional in the books. Don't worry too much - she really needed to express this stuff, but she won't act this immaturely much longer.
Thank you to all who have faithfully reviewed - you're quite lovely. Please continue to let me know what you think, and what you are looking forward to in this story.
Penny