Also. OMFG OMFG THANKS FOR ALL OF THE REVIEWS! I got so many more than I could ever have hoped! Thanks to these people: loveHP47, DramioneLover123, Edward'sCutie, beccky, Ahkasha , yoyoyobo, Maisy C, SweetTies, Charlotte, AnotherHarryPotterNerd, Arsenicsauce, Oh. my .god, TheInvisiblePrincess, Vanessa85, Emswarek17, Coley213, magic2011, Shaa-kirah7, smileylol, xX-ChildOfTheShadows-Xx, Winter'sThunder, Emz, StarKiss666, Starst, 8, XxX Fleur-Delacour XxX, Natalie1027, 30percentalpaca, desirable69, chubbypenguin, TheMalfoyHeir, Blood-blossom16, LeahKeehl13, TracesOfHumanity, Saoirse Driscoll, McKenzie Shea, Christine, liverpoolsunrise09, pirateKitten11893, May Stryker, Sylverquill, Orange-Coyote, Thetempest11112, Nala Moon, HyperChrome, Mariaxxx, ap149, Svaler, , sksprinter259, MelisaKaraDemetriaVolturi, , thelovelykay, Zoem2112, anninimouse, yumyums210, Alexa, and Evior.
IMPORTANT! PLEASE READ BELOW!
I am terribly terribly sorry for the wait. A bit of drama has been happening in my life, and for this reason, I have been having a bit of trouble finding the words in the chapters I have been trying to write. I would like to delicate this chapter to Shane de Boer, a wonderful young man who I have gone to high school with for the past three years. After all that you have done for me Shane, I wish that I could have given something back to you.
It was suicide that claimed his life on August 27, 2011. The number twenty-seven has always been my favourite number, however every time I think of it now, I will remember you, the person that noticed when I was having a hard time and came over to help me out, even though we never were close friends.
I realize that this is a FanFiction, but I want to take this opportunity to come out at talk about suicide. It is NEVER the answer. Even though you may feel that no one is interested in what you have to say as a result of bullying, or the world is against you, you will be missed by someone. Each person who is reading this has so many people that care about them, even though they may not realize it. I have been through it, and I can relate to anyone who has ever felt like it is the correct answer. If you ever need someone to talk to regarding an issue, I hope that you will PM me. I am not the type to judge. You also do not need to give me any personal information, you can just simply vent. I happen to have support on FanFiction for recent and past issues…you know who you are :)
Thank you very much to SweetTies, who happens to be a very wonderful beta and very close friend to me. It is because of her that I continue to post these chapters. If you are looking for a wonderful and personable beta, I really recommend her skills :)
R.I.P. Shane de Boer. You will be missed.
Chapter 26
"Gallopin' Gorgons Hermione! You're pacing is driving me up the wall!" Lavender covered her eyes with her palms, displaying a set of blood red talons. She had recently learned a charm that increased the length of nails, and she had obviously been overly keen on practicing it. Usually Hermione would argue that you could 'never over-practice a spell', though in this case, she was willing to make an exception to her vantage point.
"Really, would you just relax? You have already begun to give me a migraine! And I am pretty sure that you are starting to do in that floor you are walking on as well!" The curly blonde haired girl complained, giving up on hiding her face behind behind a gossip magazine with a picture of a rather alluring witch on the cover. Since the moment she had left Ron and Harry to complete their transfiguration essay, Hermione had been pacing relentlessly, wringing her hands.
"What's got you so terribly riled up anyway?" Lavender asked from behind the pages. Hermione dug through her brain in attempt to produce a believable lie, not that it would be difficult to fool the bubble-headed blonde before her. Hermione was certain that if she desired, she could even convince her roommate that Blast-Ended Skrewt, despite their outwardly frightful appearance, that they were actually cuddly pets.
"Oh, uhm, I have a History test second period tomorrow that I am not adequately prepared for." Obviously her typical 'Hermione response' had fooled her, as she merely shrugged in acknowledgment. The brunette would admit that it would be difficult to distinguish her lie; she did indeed pace like a mad-woman the night before a test. The nerves in her stomach would not cease; much like tonight.
Hermione continued to pace the floor at the foot of her bed. The scrap bit of parchment that Draco had given her earlier was burning a hole in the pocket of her robes. She was afraid to touch it, afraid to take it out, as though by seeing it, it would verify the meeting time that she was trying (and failing miserably) to convince herself was non-existent. The anticipation of possibly meeting Draco loomed over her, creating a feeling that rivaled even the most important of her examinations...almost.
She sat down on her red duvet with a huff. It was nine-thirty p.m., and in a measly two hours, Draco Malfoy had requested that she meet him in the Astronomy tower.
"It's only a test Hermione! Relax!" Lavender rolled her eyes behind her magazine, audibly pleased that the girl's pacing had ceased for the present time. Hermione did not reply.
She was not actually considering going, was she? Of course not. The rational section of Hermione's brain told her that this was bad news! Red flags jumped out at her the moment she allowed her mind to stray to even consider the meeting as a possibility, entertaining the idea that she might allow herself to be so foolish and go.
Another section of her brain, also used quite as much, played upon her curiosity. Gryffindors are naturally curious creatures, and Hermione would be lying if she admitted she did not fit this stereotype. Of course she wanted to bloody well go! It was in her nature! What was so terribly important that he had decided that he needed to talk to her in private? There was so many things that she wished to know! If this was her chance to get inside his head for a second time, she would entertain it!
Parvati walked into the dorm, flicking her wand as she went to extinguish the small fire in the corner of the room, placing them in complete darkness.
"Hey!" an annoyed Lavender shouted from somewhere in the darkness. She had clearly been reading a rather juicy bit of gossip before she was interrupted.
"Oh do shut up Lavender! I need my beauty sleep!" Parvati informed the girls, rolling over on her mattress. The girl huffed before shoving the magazine rather aggressively beneath her bed to accompany the piles of other magazines that described the scandalous behavior of famous witches or wizards Hermione had never heard about.
Hermione lay back against her pillow, in the darkness, adjusting her pajamas nervously. The silence that fell over the room allowed her mind to return to the debate that she was having moments before Parvati arrived.
Two hours. She had two hours to make up her decision of whether or not she wanted to take the risk and meet her enemy. But he does not seem to be much of an enemy anymore, another part of her mind countered. He had recently taken to assisting her. Though there could always be some underlying reason of why he was doing so; Malfoys did not just choose to help people; their hearts, if they even had such an organ, would be tainted with evil that flowed from the ink that supplied dark mark with its power. She was uncertain if Draco was indeed a Death Eater. Yes, Harry had his suspicions, but, judging by the age requirement that Stephanie had informed, her of, Draco was not yet allowed to be classified under such a foul title.
She closed her eyes and relaxed further into her pillow. The facts, fictions and possibilities swirled around her head, making her brain hurt. She resided to close her eyes for a short period of time, and allow her mind to make itself up. This momentary rest, slowly changed into a doze, which turned into a sleep.
...
Hermione took a deep breath in before beginning to mount the narrow stone staircase that lead to the tower that the Astronomy Class used for evening lessons at the beginning of every month. With each step, her heart-rate became faster, and her breathing became shallower. She did not know what to expect. Hermione Granger and not knowing did not fit well together.
As she came to the last of the steps, the open room came into view. Draco's back remained facing her as he gazed out at the Black Lake. He was leaning causally against the iron rail of the balcony, the whole of his body bathed in the pale moonlight that shone brilliantly from the full moon hovering above the tower in the cloudless sky. The calm surface of the lake resembled closely, a mirror, whose face reflected perfectly the image of the starry sky, and cast back the rays of moonlight.
Though his posture was casual, the blond managed to portray an air of nobility; he truly was a magnificent sight to behold, and even if asked, Hermione would not bother to deny such an obvious fact.
The boy's platinum blond hair swayed lightly in the breeze, causing the evening light to bounce off the strands of sliver.
Hermione stepped onto the floor quietly, feeling as though she intruded in on a quiet moment. She stood for several seconds, not knowing how to address him.
As though he heard her contemplation, he looked over his shoulder. She fidgeted uncomfortably, still feeling that, though invited, she was interrupting a quiet moment of reminiscence.
Draco pushed himself from the railing and began to walk toward her. The look on his face was unreadable, and for whatever reason, caused an unfamiliar churning in the pit of her stomach. Butterflies? In the presence of Malfoy?
Before she knew it, Draco was a mere step away from her; if she were to reach out her hand, she could easily come into contact with his chest. She noticed that the top few buttons of his shirt were undone, and Hermione could not help but gaze at the top of his toned chest.
If her mind had have been clear enough to think of something comprehensible to say, the words would have been caught in her throat, so, instead of speaking, she looked to him to initiate conversation. He had been the one that requested her presence at almost midnight; surely he would have something important enough to say. Obviously he did not, choosing to stand and regard her rather than speaking as Hermione expected he would. What she did not expect, was for him to take a half-step towards her and reach a hand out to gently run the back of his fingertips over the side of her face.
Her eyebrows jumped up in shock, not only because his fingers were lightly brushing against her jaw-bone, but because she was allowing him to.
Wherever his fingers seemed to go, tingles seemed to erupt. The brunette looked up to assess the look in Draco's eyes, curiously. He was not staring back at her, rather, his full attention was on her lips that she had parted in shock.
His fingers traveled lightly over their surface before his cool eyes finally flickered up to meet her own before returning to their previous focal point. The blond slid his fingers from her lips to a place them beneath her chin, where they tilted it upwards slightly in order to compensate for his substantially taller form.
Slowly, more slowly than Hermione ever thought possible, Draco leaned in to close the tiny gap of space that separated the lips of the snake, from those of the lion...
Suddenly, Hermione found that she was tangled in a mass of bed sheets. She straightened them out before returning to her previous position.
Malfoy? I just dreamed of Malfoy, of all people? She lay still for several seconds entertaining the thought while she waited for the tingling in her lips where Malfoy had touched them to disappear. She pressed them together tightly, hoping to aid with the process; however the action did no such thing.
How utterly stupid can one be? I just had a dream of a boy who seems to hate every fiber of my being...well the majority of them at least, showing interest in me! The more she thought about her dream, the more humorous it became. Like Malfoy would ever fancy someone like me, even if I did have feelings for him. The dream's vivid nature probably belonged partially to a tiny bit of Malfoy's memory clinging to her brain, and in combination with her own subconscious, produced a happening that was obviously not plausible or even remotely probable. Perhaps it was even as simple as her brain playing upon a fleeting thought she had produced following her witnessing the kiss he had planted on her.
She had spent the entirety of her Wizarding Government class, subsequent to Charm, thinking about it. The fact that he had actually made contact with her was startling enough, but the fact that he actually kissed her temple made the contact even more astonishing. She had herself convinced that the boy would not even prod her with a ten foot pole. This dream was indeed just her subconscious continuing to entertain this stupid idea.
She looked over at her clock; it was twenty-after-eleven. If she was going, she had ten minutes to arrive; she could easily make it on time, if she left now that was. When had she actually begun to refer to the Slytherin by name? She had been doing so subconsciously since she had been pulled into his memory.
The actions that Draco had done in the dream - she knew they were not real, simply her subconscious painting a picture on the canvas of her mind. Though, no matter how much she chided herself for her heart's hasty fluttering, she could not get it to stop.
Hermione managed to convince herself that it was simply her mind's way of attempting to make Draco appear to be more human.
Before she could change her mind, she pushed back the covers and tiptoed across the brilliant red carpet and down the winding staircase. The fire in the common room had burnt out, so the coals left in the fire-place were barely smoldering, leaving only a black load of char steaming on the bottom of the iron grate.
Hermione continued her departure as silently as she could, not wanting to wake the second year who had fallen asleep in one of the oversized armchairs, book in hand. She smiled, recalling the numerous times she had awoken to find herself in a very similar position in that vary place, an oversized book also unsurprisingly in hand. Things were so much simpler back then, she though ruefully.
Stepping out of the portrait, she made certain that the coast was clear before continuing into the hallway, in the direction of the Astronomy Tower.
Although she had convinced herself that she was indeed going to go to the tower, she could not shake the ominous feeling; the cold chill that washed over her the moment she left Gryffindor tower.
It is just my over rational mind attempting to convince me that this is a terrible idea. Well, it probably is, but at the moment, my luck could not get any worse. The most terrible thing that could happen to me while I am in the Astronomy Tower, is that Draco would be a complete git, but that would not be far off from the reputation he spent many years building.
Continuing through the dimly lit halls, she looked behind her, already certain that no one was following her. She was a prefect anyway. If a teacher found her out of bed after hours, she would not have an issue.
She rounded another corner. She would have continued down this corridor, at the end of which was the entrance to the staircase leading to the Astronomy Tower, however a figure blocked her path. This professor, would have an issue with her roaming the halls after hours.
"Out for an evening stroll are we?" Derrick smirked, grasping her upper arm. Before she could protest, her professor dragged her away, his destination obviously being the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.
...
Draco leaned lazily against the iron rail of the balcony, off-shooting from the top of the Astronomy tower. His calm demeanor did nothing to express the tremendous amount of nervousness he was experiencing.
The blond looked down at his watch, for what felt like the fifteenth time. Where was Hermione? She had not exactly given him her consent that she would indeed meet him, though knowing her curious nature, he would have bet his new broomstick that she would have come, and that her punctuality would not have allowed her to me more than a second late.
But she was more than a second late. Eleven forty-five. Fifteen minutes had passed since his desired meeting time. He resisted the urge to pace, knowing that it would only cause him to become more stressed, and possibly cause him to walk right off the tower by mistake.
He resided to running his fingers through his hair occasionally, eventually causing the artfully placed strands of hair on his head to stick out in odd directions. Normally, Draco would have fixed his hair into place once more, but he was too anxious to care at the moment.
When Hermione arrived, which he was sure would be any minute, how would he breach the subject? She would obviously arrive, demanding why she had been asked to meet him, of all people, at the top of the Astronomy Tower, at a time that neared midnight.
Even after thinking over their impending meeting in the class following Charms, all through dinner, until now, he still did not know.
Another fifteen minutes passed, followed another ten, before Draco had finally accepted the Gryffindor would not be joining him and left the tower, deeply bothered. He really wished to approach her on the memory that he had seen. In all honesty, he still did not know how exactly he would even breach the subject. Now he had a longer period of time, obviously due to his expected sleepless night, in which to prepare.
Silently, he moved through the corridors in the direction of the Slytherin common room.
His ears perked up as he heard a light scuffling coming from down the hall. He slowed his steps, making them as silent as the hard stone beneath his soles would allow. Stepping into a shadow, he pulled out his wand for good measure.
Though he was off-duty, he wished to catch any miscreants wandering the halls at night, and it would be most beneficial if he were to take them by surprise. The credit he would earn would be all the more brilliant for his name!
The faint outline of a student could be seen, just turning the corner. The frame of the body was small, obviously a woman. From the distance, it was difficult for Draco to discern the identity of the figure, though the moment the mass of hair tangled atop her head was illuminated by a nearby torch, he could easily determine her name; Hermione Granger.
Her hair, though naturally unruly, was in complete disarray. Her clothing hung loosely off her body, twisted and tucked randomly into place, as though hastily thrown on. The buttons down the front of her shirt were buttoned through the wrong holes, and odd creases littered the usually crisp piece of clothing. The base was shoved roughly into the waistband of her skirt that was twisted slightly on her waist. Covering the ensemble, was her standard Hogwarts robe, also wrinkled and scrunched in places.
Aside from noticing her clothing, Draco's attention was immediately drawn to her heavy breathing as she leant up against a broad stone pillar, stifling a sob. Fighting to hold her composure, she continued to the next pillar that lined the open corridor, but without warning, collapsed against the stone wall that she had been walking along to support herself. She allowed her body to slide down the length and onto the floor, allowing herself to break fully.
Before he could think, Draco rushed towards the girl, now crying softly on the floor, his heart pounding more painfully than he had ever thought possible.
"Granger," he said softly, crouching down to meet her lowered height. Her face was tight, in an expression of pain as she sputtered out her line.
"I-I don't. I don't k-know what H-h-harry Potter is-is-is af-ter," she stuttered, clinging tightly to the base of the pillar, as though by letting go, she would be pulled forcibly away. "D-don't touch me, I-I promise, I don't k-know!" she whispered over and over, her voice breaking.
"Oh sweet Merlin," Draco whispered under his breath. He reached out a hand to place it in what he hoped to be a comforting manner. Draco was not exactly comfortable with the comforting of a witch; he didn't exactly know how. Dealing with a situation such as this was foreign to him.
As his hand made contact with her shoulder, she jumped away from his touch and sobbed, clinging, if possible, even tighter to the pillar. Draco drew back, from her quivering form, his eyes darkening.
He had a very vivid idea of where Hermione had been; his blood bubbled at the thought. If his inquisitions were correct, a certain Defense Against the Dark Arts would not have that much longer to live.
Draco did not even bother to entertain the idea that she could walk back to her dormitory; it was clear that, from her last display, that she might make it only a few steps before collapsing once more.
Wrapping one arm around her legs, the other beneath her back, he cradled her to his chest. "Don't t-touch me! I don't know! I don't know!" She struggled feebly against his tightened grip, crying softly.
"Shh. Hermione, it's me," he coed. He had never said her name out-loud, though the moment he did, it just felt right, it felt smooth; like a knife sliding thought warm butter. The brunette stopped crying upon hearing her given name and looked up at him curiously, through red-rimmed eyes.
"D-Draco?" she asked. His heart ached at the sound of her broken voice. Defeated. If he had to think of one word that would never describe Hermione Granger, it would be 'defeated.'
"Yes, it's me. You're going to be alright, I'm not going to hurt you," he responded gently, standing to his full height.
Realization seemed to dawn on her, and her face lit up with shock. The reality that she was currently in the arms of Draco Malfoy was enough to break her from her stupor, sobering instantly. He couldn't see her like this! No one could see her like this! She lowered her chin so he would not see her attempting to dry her eyes without his notice. It was a failed attempt, as he had already seen her tears.
"Listen, I think I should get you to the hospital wing-"
"NO!" she shouted. Draco looked down the halls around him, to be certain that a professor or a prefect had not been drawn to the sound of her protest.
"But your injured, I-"
"No. I-I cannot go the hospital wing," she whimpered, again on the verge of tears, "It is not nearly as bad as it looks."
Draco looked around helplessly. He could not just stand around and do nothing. He looked down at her in attempt to assess as much as he could while walking. As she was completely covered with her robes, he could do next to nothing to diagnose her state.
"Well what do you want me to do?" Draco replied, slightly frustrated. He did his best to keep as much edge out of his voice, not wanting to frighten her. She appeared to have regained some of her composure, though he did not want to trigger anything that would set her off.
"Umm, just-just put me down. I am fine to walk from here." Draco could tell from the tone in her voice, that she was doing her best to keep it level and strong. It did not fool him.
Hermione expected him to believe her lie, expected him to set her down on the ground and allow her to go her separate way, but he didn't.
"I am not as terribly thick as your friends." Draco continued to walk in the direction of the hospital wing, despite her protests.
"Malfoy! Draco? Please! I cannot go to the hospital wing!" Draco stopped, defeated. There was so much anger, so much emotion pulsing though him at the moment that he did not know the correct means of which to cope.
He took a deep breath through his nose. Had his hands been free, he would have raked them through his hair until the delicate strands stood on end. He looked to his left in attempt to calm himself and saw a portrait of Barnabas the Barmy, attempting to train trolls for the ballet. He knew that across from that portrait, was the entrance to the Room of Requirement. The blond had happened across the room in second year when searching for a place to hide various items he had taken from another student for fun.
Draco walked past the blank space of wall, thinking of a space that he could place Hermione, a place where she could rest, a place where he could talk to her.
After pacing past three times, an ornate wooden door colored in a dark, rich stain appeared. He pushed it open easily, swinging it closed with his foot.
The room was decorated primarily in various shades of black and silver with green accents. A large plush bed dressed in black linens rest against the opposite wall. The frame in which the generous piece was situated, consisted of black iron that had been welded together in long strips that curled to resemble branches of a tree that entwined with one another, occasionally budding off into silver leaves encrusted with tiny green emeralds.
A leather couch adorned with overstuffed green pillows faced two chairs situated before a crackling fire atop a detailed green rug embellished with carefully placed stitching in silver thread.
This will do, Draco thought, for the most part satisfied with his design choice. It was simple yet elegant - not that he needed an extravagant palace to house Hermione until she was stable enough, both physically and emotionally.
Hermione on the other hand, felt that the room surpassed the word extravagant. Had she more energy, she would have taken the time to examine many of the unique items that were scattered throughout the room on mantel pieces, tables and other various sculptures. As it was, her exhaustion and aching limbs were enough to again be thankful that Draco had found her, even though he happened upon her in an inopportune situation. She was far to fatigued to even think of feeling embarrassed.
Once inside the room, Draco made to carry Hermione over to the bed, however after taking three steps in the direction of the innocent piece of furniture, Hermione experienced a large release of her remaining adrenaline that had not been used up in her previous adventure. The surge of energy allowed her to make it perfectly clear that she would go no closer.
"And where the hell do you think you're going Malfoy!" Her screech, Draco would argue at that moment, rivaled even the ear-shattering cries of the Mandragora, causing him to wince slightly. The wince was suddenly replaced as a devilish grin lit up his face.
Not noticing his change in demeanor, Hermione returned to her initial struggle against Draco's arms. Being forcibly carried toward a bed was not something that she held well with, especially considering past events.
Draco slowed his pace, though continued toward his destination. As he did, he lowered his head toward hers slightly. The movement, so similar to the one she had experienced in the dream, had her heart accelerating to a pace that would probably convince Madam Pomfrey that she ought to be permanently detained for the remainder of the school year. It was quite pathetic, or so she thought, that even the knowledge that he was not going to try anything, did not help to cease the reaction that her body was making towards her savior.
Draco oblivious to her reaction throughout the duration of her episode, leaned in further and begin to talk in a low voice that Hermione felt reverberate through his chest.
"I thought that, seeing as I still don't have an adequate understanding of your definition of the word 'copulation', you could perhaps give me a demonstration of sorts. Purely for academic purposes, of course," he replied in a seductive voice.
She felt like a child being carried, and disliked it; she preferred to be in control. Her immobility paired with his little comment gave her the strength to whip her head up to send him a particularly harsh glare, only to find that his eyes were dancing with laughter.
The Gryffindor stopped struggling, choosing rather to cross her arms over her chest indigently; knowing full-well that she was pouting like the child that she did not wish to feel like moments ago. She knew full well that the Malfoy would not try anything. The boy was all talk, always had been, and always would be.
That little tosser, Hermione thought wickedly as he laid her gently against the fluffy pillows at the head of the bed before seating himself at the footboard.
"Well if you really were trying to seduce me Malfoy, I am sorry to say that the colors do not at all aid in this feat," she replied, playing along. The quick witted conversation did wonders in clearing her mind of its earlier trauma. "Color choice is very important in setting an appropriate mood. I would have at least thought that, given your reputation with the ladies, you would have done your research and taken into account that I am from Gryffindor, not Slytherin," she retorted, referring pointedly to the color palate of the room.
"I did," he smirked, nodding at one of the tables on the other side of the room, on which a tiny lamp with a red shade stood.
Hermione snorted, not bothering to worry that the sound was not exactly lady-like. Who was there for her to impress anyway?
"Nice try," she replied sarcastically. It was rather humorous, the lamp.
"Ouch Granger. I thought that Gryffindores were supposed to be encouraging, loving and caring creatures. You just brutally shot down my best attempt!" Hermione merely looked at him, doing her best to hide the genuine amusement that she was feeling.
"Right you are...As you have made an obvious error, you have in fact played upon my compassion, so I will provide you with some much needed advice. Next time you try to make a girl swoon, try something other than appealing to her affections with a lampshade."
"That 'obvious error' as you so eloquently put it, was my best effort!" Hermione rolled her eyes. If it was not for the smile pulling at the corner of his lips, Hermione might have believed him, after all, the boy seated at the edge of the bed had probably never had the need to court a woman. It seemed that he had enough of willing participants already if rumors proved to be truth. Who knew if the boy even had a romantic bone in his body...bloody red lamp shade...it wasn't like he was trying to appeal to her anyway.
Hermione narrowed her eyes as a smirk made its way over his lips. The lips that, in her dream, had almost made contact with her own...SHUT UP HERMIONE!
"Besides," he added, his voice taking on a husky tone. "I learn much better from trial and error anyway."
"Oh shove off Malfoy!" Her deterrence was only halfhearted. She found his jesting rather amusing, enough to distract her from...recent events.
Hermione shifted her back further up the cushion, wincing as a pain shot through her spine, and releasing with it a torrent of memories as to why it ached so terribly in the first place. She hoped that Draco did not notice; the moment her demeanor had changed, she did her best to set her face back into a neutral expression, though the millisecond between allowed him such opportunity.
If he did, Hermione wouldn't know. He chose to, like Hermione, drop the conversation where it ended. The two sat in a silence that, for Hermione, was growing more and more unbearable. In Harry's presence, such a silence would usually be comfortable, however with the blond sitting across from her, it was anything but.
Liquid mercury were his eyes as they lingered on her. They seemed to be doing their best to assess her current state. The scrutiny made her feel insecure, especially seeing as she did not exactly look presentable...that was an understatement; she looked like she had just been trampled by a herd of hippogryphs, and she recognized that. But what gave him the right to stare blatantly at her!
"What are you ogling at?" she said, slightly irritated. She refrained from calling him a rude name, as he had aided her in her weakened state, something that she was deeply embarrassed about, but she pushed that aside. She had more pressing matters to worry about, one of which included how she was going to get away from Malfoy, and the situation she was now in. She was tempted to question him on the kiss, but now was not the right time, especially after her meeting with Derrick.
Draco did not reply. He just starred at her, his lips pressed together in a tight line. Several moments of silence passed allowing Hermione the opportunity to further relax into the tasteful silk pillow, her eyes drifting shut.
At the foot of the bed sat Draco Malfoy, torn between forcing her to talk about the issue that hung between them, and allowing her to sleep. Witnessing the battle she was having with her eyelids, he decided that the latter would be the best option for the brunette in front of him.
The moment they had closed completely, he shifted his weight off the bed and walked over to a nearby leather chair, over which was draped a soft green blanket. Turning back, he noticed that Hermione had managed to win out the struggle.
The shift on the bed at her feet, caused when Draco had stood, caused her to jerk awake, though the exhaustion she felt upon doing so nearly convinced her to curl up and resume her rest. Realizing that she was about to doze off in the presence of Malfoy, she was thankful that she had been awakened.
Draco looked down at the piece of cloth in his hands before placing it back on the piece of furniture, still standing. It was a sweet gesture, and Hermione recognized this, however she just wished to be alone, away from everyone where she could reflect. What she needed was a nice hot shower to wash Derricks essence from her skin. She knew it was for the most part impossible; his touch seemed to infect every cell he came into contact with, seemed to kill them one by one. Soap and water could not cleanse such wounds.
The Slytherin made no move, simply looking at her. Such an action made Hermione realize that the longer he stared at her, the more she felt that he could see the filth that had begun to accumulate on her skin because of her cousin. She nervously pulled at the sleeve of her robe unknowingly, pulling it further over the scarred initials.
Draco's eyes flickered down to her wrist, noticing that her attention was no longer with him. Her fingers were simply toying with the edge of the black material, tracing the stitching, stretching it slightly. Figuring that her movement was merely that of nerves, he looked back to her eyes which now focused on a point on the wall, just over his right shoulder.
He sighed inaudibly, squeezing his eyes closed. The blank expression she wore remained burned into his eyelids. He had done his best to make her feel comfortable in his presence with his playful jokes, but now it seemed that the time for questions was now.
The thing was, Draco did not know where to start. How do you initiate a conversation regarding something so inconceivably vial? It also did not aid his case that he had acted as her enemy for years.
The blond opened his eyes to find Hermione's gaze had remained fixated on the wall behind him. It was difficult to miss that her skin had paled even further from its already achromatic shade in the matter of seconds that had elapsed while his eyes were closed. The lack of color made him more perturbed, knowing fulfill that her body might react unpleasantly, Draco blurted out the first concern that came to his mind.
"Do you think that you require Blood Replenishing Potion?" he asked, seriously.
As if electrocuted, Hermione's head, along with her haunted brown eyes, snapped to his own. Blood Replenishing Potion? How had he figured out that she drank blood replenishing potion? She was certain that he had not seen the list of ingredients she had carried with her the night he had caught her attempting to knick a few ingredients from Snape's private stores! That was the only possible way he could have figured her secret out, given that he had not done so from observing her potion drinking habits in class. The latter would be unlikely, as it was not uncommon for a student to carry with them a bottle of water or two...
Unable to think of something to say, Hermione merely stared back, doing her best to raise an eyebrow skeptically in attempt to convince him that the idea that she needed a potion to regulate such vital occurrences of life was preposterous.
"I don't have an inkling as to what you're-"
"And this is no time to flaunt your Gryffindor brain," he cut her off, slightly sarcastically, ignoring her expression. Going back to his concerned tone, he added, "If you require it, than you require it! Even if you are feeling the slightest bit peaky-"
"Why would you just assume that I drink blood replenishing potion?" she snorted rather sharply. Despite her rude tone, Draco did not appear to be put off in the least.
"As previously mentioned, Hermione, I am not as daft as your petty little friends are, regardless of your impression of me."
Hermione hated to admit that his statement was true. Her best friends did not have a clue as to the toil she underwent on a daily basis; Ron had not noticed...nor had Harry. They had not spent much time around her so far this year, that much was true, but in the time that they had spent together, Harry was the one to point out to Ron that she was looking a little thin.
Draco on the other hand, had also noticed her newly acquired angular appearance, as well as her potion drinking. Whether he had figured it out before or after he had warned her of his future involvement in getting to the bottom of the problem, she did not know. It did not matter anyway, he knew, but the amount of information that he had gathered and had yet to share was still unclear.
Again, Hermione chose an uncharacteristic approach; silence. She figured that more damage could be inflicted by simply opening her mouth, so she resided to keep it closed, but anyone knowing Hermione Granger, knew that would be an impossible feat.
When she did not reply, Draco added pointedly, "You don't suppose that Dumbledore sent you those vials of blood replenishing potions, do you?"
The bushy haired brunette's eyebrows shot up to disappear behind her fringe. She did not figure that their headmaster had been the sender, but she certainly did not think that it would have been Draco Malfoy.
"That was you?" she asked incredulously. He only smirked, but there was a sad note to it. "But how...?"
"You honestly didn't think a Slytherin would go by their word and return a sheet of paper that the owner desperately did not want them to read without making a copy did you? Not all of us are so Gryffindor-"
"You made a copy of my ingredient list!" Hermione seethed. Her anger quickly diminished and she let out a capitulating sigh. She supposed it did not matter much now anyway; Draco had found out regardless, and she could not change what had happened.
"Yes, though the vials I sent you were originally from the hospital wing-"
"You took medicine without permission? You did didn't you!" she accused. "What if Madam Pomfrey were to suddenly acquire an emergency patient! You might have jeopardized their chance at survival! It could have been down to life or death for someone!" Such information also confirmed that it was Draco that had given her the potion while she had been unconscious, saving her life in the process. Hermione was thankful for what he had done, knowing that it was uncharacteristic to admit that he had helped her; that was possibly why he had not mentioned he had aided her; a blow to his pride perhaps, or his ego. However, partnered with her thankfulness was irritation. How dare he take Blood Replenishing Potions!
"It was a matter of life or death," he replied quietly. "It still is."
She looked up in shock to meet the azure eyes staring intently back at her. The intensity that they held kept her anchored to the spot on the bed as he strode slowly toward the iron footboard.
"But why? Why would you be so...so willing to help me? Your past actions have done nothing to convince anyone, including myself, that you care the least about what happens to me." She really was genuinely confused as to why someone who had set their distaste towards all Muggle-Borns, especially toward herself, in stone for everyone to see, would choose to help her, going against all that was inbred into him from a prejudice family.
"It does not matter now. At the moment, all that is important is the answer to the question. Are you feeling dizzy at all? Do you need a replenishing potion?" The genuine concern, not only in Draco's voice, but his expression as well, really touched Hermione, but made her suspicious at the same time.
She paused before answering, knowing that if she did, she would be admitting to him a piece of her life that she wished for no one to ever know. "No, I am okay for now. I had a full vial before...before...never mind-".
She dropped her gaze to study the black duvet that covered the king sized mattress. Upon first entering, she had deemed it to be a simple black color, however upon further examination, she noticed that tiny silver stars were charmed to flicker lightly, contrasting their onyx backdrop. They reminded her of Draco. Upon first examination, his soul had appeared to be of a similar color, while remaining unseen, were the tiny flecks of light that fought against the dark.
Hermione choose to study them, considering her comparison as they fell into another silence, her unfinished sentence looming in the air between them. It was Draco who chose to break it. He knew it was too soon, though he could not keep his mouth shut. He needed answers, as he was on the brink of insanity.
"It was him again, wasn't it?" Draco asked gently. Hermione closed her eyes, her head still tilted downward toward the duvet. In her eyes, she knew he would find the answer to his question. She did not understand how he would know who 'he' was, and Hermione could tell that his statement was not a bluff.
Collecting her courage, she lifted her gaze to look into a pair of silver eyes that were becoming less and less foreign, while the emotions linking to their shade remained to be discovered. Their usual hardness seemed to have vanished, melting away to reflect the tender tone of his voice. His light colored eyes seemed to extend so much deeper than she had ever realized, but then again, perhaps she had not taken the time to notice.
The sympathy she saw in his eyes made her feel even worse; it further verified that Draco had successfully detangled her artfully crafted web of lies; had avoided the spiders that were to protect her secrets from everyone attempting to breach the entrance (A/N working well enough to also deter Ron :P). Somehow, Draco was able to sidestep her precautions and travel directly to the heart of her misfortune.
"I-I really don't know who or what you are talking about." Her voice gave away her fib.
Draco clenched his teeth, an action that did not go unnoticed by Hermione. He had already known that Derrick had seen her that evening, that he was not there to protect her from the beast. He knew that his loathing for the arsehole who did this to Hermione would not assist him at the moment, so he did his best to control his rage and help the defeated witch in front of him.
"Hermione," he said, his voice constricted voice, holding back the anger that he had suppressed since Charms class. "You know exactly who and what I am talking about."
Hermione kept her face calm. In their conversation thus far, the boy had used her name more times than he had throughout their years at Hogwarts; it sounded foreign coming from his lips.
"What ever happened to the name Granger?" Hermione asked bitterly, looking for possible way out, even if it meant creating an argument. "You suddenly decided to-"
"Don't change the subject," he replied quickly, though not unkindly. Secretly he didn't know the answer himself. He had subconsciously been calling her by her first name since he had assisted her in the hospital wing after her fainting.
"Well, if you won't answer, would you care to explain the state I found you in?" Draco challenged, taking an alternate route. His voice had risen more than he had expected; he hoped that the volume would not deter her from answering.
"I-I was walking," she began, blinking repeatedly. Draco did not bother to raise an eyebrow as she expected.
"You were walking..." the blond prompted impatiently.
"Yes. Walking. To-to meet you." Draco turned his head so she would not see him bite his lip...or to see the pain that filled his eyes to the brim. Had he not requested for her to meet him this particular evening, then she would be currently safe in her common room, curled up before the fire, most-likely with an abnormally thick book. He needed to press on, as much as he did not wish to; Draco blamed himself, and in getting her to admit her fate, he would also confirm further his own guilt.
"And how did such an activity ultimately place you in such a state?" he questioned with a bitter edge, not because of her understandable restraint in putting forth information and obvious evasion of topic, rather it was his own compunction and self-reproach. It was not her fault.
"I tripped down the flight of stairs leading to the Astronomy Tower," she said quickly, after a moment of thought. Even to her own ears, her lie sounded false, sounded forced, but she had no energy to even attempt to correct the words that had already left her mouth.
Hermione watched as Draco shook his head slowly, seeming to fight some internal demon; the conflict raged clearly in his eyes. "It was Derrick, and we both bloody well know it," he whispered, lifting his gaze to meet her own.
Had Hermione been in her natural mind-set, she would have utilized such an opportunity to observe the emotion in his eyes, however the scene before her seemed to fade slightly, the edges of her vision blurring. It felt as though the charmed knife that her cousin had used to assault her skin had suddenly sheathed itself in her heart. At the sound of her cousin's name, the world seemed to stop. Draco had learned many secrets that she had tried painstakingly to cover up. The little slips bothered her, but she did not actually think that he would have gone so far as to locate the source of her agony. How could he possibly know? This had to be a dream! There was no possible way...But it was real.
"Listen Malfoy," she stood as primly as she could manage given her fatigue, straightening her impossibly tangled robes. Hermione did her best to maintain her dignity despite her current situation. "I don't know what you are talking about. I had a bad accident earlier this year, but you are jumping to conclusions..."
"Jumping to conclusions- That may perhaps be true, but you did not deny any of them," he pointed out, his voice strong.
"Stay out of my business!" Hermione eyed the closed door behind him on the other side of the room, searching for a door to lead her from it and into the corridor where she could escape. She could not just sit there while Malfoy unhinged her life, while he knocked over the brick wall she had so firmly built up to hide her private information.
Understanding her intention, Draco lifted himself to his full height in attempt to stop her. She was here and appeared to be physically okay, now it was time to see if she was alright mentally.
Hermione adjusted her stance to take a step forward, however her eyes widened suddenly upon realizing exactly how saturated the gauze was that surrounded her torso. Draco had already discovered too many secrets of hers for her liking; she had to get out before he learned yet another.
She decided to tell him the truth about her intent; that she wished to head for the showers. Hermione knew he would be more likely to allow her to leave if she had a destination in which he could not follow her, other than the common room.
"Listen, I just want to take a shower. It was nice of you to bring me here, but I should go..."
She made to walk past him in the direction of the Prefects bathroom, but he held out his arm to stop her.
"Bathroom is over there." He motioned his chin to the back corner of the room, where a door was slightly agar. Draco wanted answers, but he knew he could not push her for them. She had to be ready to tell him. Even if it meant that he had to wait for the girl to finish washing her hair, he would eventually get them.
Hermione eyed the room skeptically. Should she use that bathroom? As much as she did not want to shower off of a room in which Malfoy was also present, but walking through the halls looking like she currently did, would not be the smartest idea, even if there would probably be no one else up to see her. She also feared that she would not reach the Prefect's bathroom before the red fluid seeped through her entire uniform, leaving a trail of blood that Flitch would probably follow. Her dignity would not allow her to blame it on her period.
Just a quick shower, she thought. She hoped that getting the spray on her body as quickly as she could might lesson the effect that Derrick's fingers had on her that evening. Perhaps then she would not heave up her entire dinner later that evening, or what little she had consumed.
She nodded at him, avoiding his gaze, and walked toward the bathroom, locking the door right away upon entering.
Hermione was not at all surprised that the color scheme matched that in the main room. The tiles were made of a white glossy marble with black flecks, and the walls were painted a dull grey. The sink, as well as the shower tiles, were a shimmering black. In the corner, a tower of fluffy green towels were perched on an iron shelf. Hermione figured that he had purposely forgotten to think of a red towel for her.
Hermione stripped her clothing as quickly as she could, feeling Derricks fingers on her once more. She hoped that she would be able to scrub them off with one of the various luffas that hung in the shower. Green luffas of course.
She stepped into the shower, knowing full-well that it would have been more intelligent to heal her cuts first, but she could not bare the thought of having to deal with feeling and smelling Derrick on her any longer than necessary. She had drunk enough potion to assure her that she would be fine until the following morning, even if she had lost half of her blood or more.
Residing to heal herself after she got out of the shower, she turned on the shower-head and stepped in, not particularly caring what the temperature of the water was. That was until the spray hit her skin.
It was freezing. She let out a little squeal that echoed in the titled room and jumped out. Not seconds later, she heard a violent banging on the door.
"You all right in there?" About to step back into the shower, she paused. It could have been the loud pulsing of the spray in front of her obscuring the sound of his voice, but if she had heard correctly, he sounded frantic. Malfoy? Frantic? It did not seem to fit, but somehow she was certain that it was not her ears playing tricks on her. When she did not answer, he continued hitting the door, harder this time, until Hermione responded, fearing that if she did not, he would soon tear the door from its hinges.
"Fine! I'm fine!" Hermione sighed as she stepped into the shower, but not before changing it to a scolding hot setting. She was not fine. She was a wreck, and no one else knew but herself. Stephanie did, but she still did not understand to what extent it still affected her. Though she could tell that Steph still harbored dislike for Derrick, she had made it clear that she had moved on from that period of her life to an extent. With time, Steph had told her, the wounds do heal, but they will always remain.
Stephanie. She had not thought of her since Charms class that day. Hermione knew that she needed to have a discussion with her friend.
Sinking to the floor, she allowed the scolding spray to wash over her and clean the new wounds that had been carved into her skin, along with the old.
Each new abrasion to her skin represented each time she had avoided Derrick's questions regarding the plans of Harry Potter. She had lost count of the number of times she had chosen to keep her mouth shut, rather than expel all of the information she knew, nor did she bother to look down and count them.
Derrick had never outright admitted that he was a Death Eater, nor had she ever had the suspicion of him being one; during the sweltering weather of the summer, she had seen him wear only long sleeves. It was when he had started asking about Harry Potter during the summer that she knew. He now prodded at the barrier between innocence that separated their two worlds between Harry Potter and Voldemort, good and evil, light and dark. It just so happened that she was stationed as that wall, and for the good of her friends on the other side of it, she had taken it upon herself to remain strong and not crumble under the weight she now carried - that meant keeping it a secret.
With all of the efforts she had made to make her situation unknown, how had Draco figured out it was Derrick who had so drastically changed her life? She desperately wanted to ask, but in doing so, she would only be providing him with conformation. How was he able to figure her out before her best friends could? Ron, well, Ron was not the most observant of her friends, but surely he would have noticed something out of the obvious, and Harry had caught on to her odd behavior to an extent, but not to the extent that the boy currently on the other side of the door of the Room of Requirement had. She thought that she had put on a close to perfect mask, or at least perfect enough to keep her secret, but obviously not. She had failed Harry.
Hermione started to scrub at her arms with the soap in the shower, her tears disappearing within the spray as they fell. The cleaning of her wounds were almost as painful as receiving them. Almost.
Eventually, she gave up, thoroughly exhausted, and let the soap bar fall to the ground in front of her folded knees. She had completely forgotten where she was, that she was in the room of requirement, with only one door separating herself from her worst enemy, or so she thought to be until Derrick materialized.
Time ticked by, but no matter how long she stayed, the water did not run cold; a benefit to showering in the Room of Requirement. Perhaps she would come here to shower more often. Without Malfoy.
The bar of soap that rest in front of her, previously as large as her closed fist, had dissolved to the size of a dime. That piece of soap was the only thing that held her focus.
.D.
Draco pushed himself up from the bed and began to pace. How long had Hermione been in the bathroom? He didn't know, but it felt like it was a long time, and it had begun to worry him.
He walked up to the bathroom door. Behind it, he heard clearly the sound of running water. Surely the woman would not have a shower that long.
He knocked on the door. "Oi, you okay in there?" Waiting for several seconds without a reply, he knocked slightly louder. Again, no reply.
Trying the door, he found it locked. Not expecting the simple Alohamora to actually work, he stepped into the steamy room.
"Granger?" he called, squinting through the water vapor. "Granger?" His heart picked up speed when his ears met only that of the water slapping against the floor.
"What the hell Malfoy!" Hermione shrieked an octave higher than he had thought humanly possible, pulling a towel across her body. The wand, already in her hand that had been pointed at herself moments before, was now pointing in his direction.
Before Malfoy had entered, she was attempting to heal her injuries, a difficult feat under the restraints of exhaustion. Before healing each individual cut, she would rinse it with the water from the sink beside the shower.
He eyed the sink beside her, pulling out his own wand. The water draining away was not clear, having a pink tinge to it. That was most-likely the running water he had heard from behind the door.
"It would be just like you to walk in on a woman in the shower!" Hermione said, pulling up the towel that she had hastily thrown over herself, not only to hide her unclothed body, but the cuts as well. Though her arms were exposed, she was thankful that the thick screen of steam acted as a shield, not allowing the blond to see the lines of red.
"I knocked and shouted several times before coming in, so you have no right to assume that I had walked in on my leisure!" he argued back.
The brunette admitted to herself that was probable; she had been so focused on her healing spells that she might have ignored the calls without realizing it.
"Well what else am I to assume! You knew I was in here taking a shower, and I had the door locked!" She couldn't see any other reason why Malfoy would choose to walk in on her.
"Now that you are done ogling, turn around so I can put a robe on!" she shouted at him. Her hair was still soaked, dripping down over her shoulders, covering the abrasions there.
At the moment, Hermione was too angry to be embarrassed that he was seeing her in such a state.
Draco obliged, turning around to face the door leading to the other room. Hermione quickly retrieved her bra and knickers from the pile of clothing that hung on a rack beside the sink and pulled them on before sliding her arms through a robe hanging on the rack. Green. Of course it was green.
"What did you want anyway," she asked irritably as she tightened the sash around her waist."
"You didn't respond when I called you," Draco stated emotionlessly, inducing Hermione's audible scoff.
"I am not a dog that will simply obey your every beck and call! How dare you assume-"
"How was I supposed know that you didn't faint again!" he challenged, overpowering her already thunderous choice in volume. Hermione paused, looking up at the boy facing away from her as he continued. "How was I to know that you had not drown in your bathwater when you did not reply, you stupid, stupid girl!" Draco was thankful that he was not currently facing the witch behind him. He knew, had she seen his eyes, that they would so easily provide her with all of the information that he had suppressed.
Hermione stood speechless. He had been concerned about her? Had she not heard the exasperation in his voice, she would not have believed that Malfoy even knew of such an emotion.
"You can turn around," she said quietly. Slowly, the blonde turned to face her, his locks falling haphazardly into his eyes, which stared ardently at her own. He combed his hand through them distressfully to position them neatly across his forehead, only succeeding in mussing them more. Involuntarily, Hermione felt her heart rate increase. Why did he have such and effect on her? He just moved his hands through his hair! That is all. She took a steading breath before speaking.
"So you were worried about me," she stated, a small smile creeping onto her face at the look of surprise and discomfort that sprung onto his face. She had over-looked the 'stupid girl' part because of what he had said during the rest of his sentence.
Draco looked uncomfortable. "Well...it wasn't exactly..." he muttered, indiscernibly.
"It appears that it was that exactly!" She crossed her arms amused at how the tables had so suddenly turned. It was only moments before that she felt unpleasant, however Draco's current look of discomposure almost made his uninvited entrance worth it.
The light smile that had snaked its way onto her features dropped suddenly, recognizing that she was standing before Malfoy in nothing but a bathrobe. She had to find some clothing and get out of there. Hermione felt that the more time she spent in his presence, the more opportunity he had to figure her out.
The boy furrowed his eyes at her sudden change of emotion.
Making to step around him and out of the bathroom, she slipped over a small puddle of chilled water that had drained from her body following her exit from the shower.
However he had managed it, Draco was able to reach forward and grasp under her arm before she collided with the marble. As she had fallen forward, his other hand had gone to the inside of her sleeve, so he could feel the chill that had settled over her skin. The steam that blanketed the room suggested a hot shower, while her skin was as cold as ice.
Hermione bit back a hiss as his fingers enclosed around her wrist. He lifted her to her feet gently, keeping his hand around her wrist unconsciously. He looked up at the witch to gauge her reaction. Should she fall again, he would be prepared.
Her features were contorted with pain. He had not been too aggressive had he? Surely not, he had been careful not to hurt her; he would never physically hurt a woman. She angled her body slightly away from his, choosing rather to stare at the corner of the room than his eyes, and pointedly avoided the hand around her wrist. Looking down at it would only draw more attention to the red flaws that she wanted to remain hidden.
Cautiously, he turned to face her, rather than pulling her back in front of him. The Gryffindor lifted her chin. Draco could tell that, through her stance, she was attempting to project strength. It was her eyes that betrayed her.
He let his hand drop from her side. It was then that he realized his hand was wet. He did not bother to examine it, assuming it was just wet because of the contact with her skin, as she had just stepped out of the shower.
The initial pain that she had felt upon Draco first grasping her arm had subsided somewhat, allowing her to feel the warmth of his skin melt the chill of her own. When he had removed his hand, she looked down curiously as the feeling of warmth suddenly disappeared and she began to feel the chill creep back through her veins.
Hermione's great inhalation at what she saw caused Draco to follow her gaze curiously, as it went to his hand. He discovered that what he had earlier assumed to be water from the shower was actually liquid scarlet glittering on his palm.
Looking up at Hermione, she too, was staring at the hand that had covered her arm with a look of horror.
Slowly, she lifted her gaze to meet his own, her eyes saturated with fear. Hermione fought the strong urge to look at her shoes, battled the pull to run once more. By doing so, it felt that she was giving up.
Draco's eyes were now a soft charcoal. The dark shade told her of the anger possibly brewing below the surface, though the softness in them was unrecognizable. Surely he could not care about her that much, could he?
The blond's gaze dropped to her green bathrobe wrapped tightly around her. He reached up to roll up her sleeve, but she stepped back.
Hermione's eyebrows were furrowed, her jaw set. Unconsciously, she pulled her arms closer to her body, snuggling her neck further into the collar of the robe, hiding.
Surely she could not be so thick as to not allow me to help her. Draco thought. The look she was giving him dared him to touch her.
"Hermione! Be realistic!" Draco half yelled, half pleaded. He was not angry at Hermione in the least. It was Derrick that caused the rise in his voice. He did not know the extremity of her injuries, and until he did, it would continue to nag at him. The girl winced, and Draco lowered his voice, not wanting to frighten her any more than she already was.
"Just let me see your arm, I promise I won't hurt you." He went to reach for her robe once more, though slowly this time to show her his intensions, but she moved back quickly, leaning against the sink, shaking violently.
Hermione could not tell if her shivering was due to the sudden change in temperature, having recently stepped out of a hot shower, or whether it was fear; fear of revealing more of herself to someone that did not care about her...though his past actions proved this statement different.
The blond stood uncomfortably, not looking at her, his hands clenched. He wanted nothing more than to wring the bastard Derrick's neck for making Hermione feel this way.
Hermione looked down at his hands. The knuckles on both were white from his tight clenching. He cannot be genuinely concerned. He is Malfoy! But the look on his face as he ran his hand through his hair before clenching them it once more seemed to convince her otherwise.
She turned around to face herself in the lightly misted mirror; much of the vapor having dispersed through open door.
She had told Steph about her cuts, though she had never pushed her to see them; something she was appreciative of. Hermione had been mentally open with Stephanie, and was able to share her emotional scars with her, but now, she felt it was time to be open with her physical scars with someone...and it appeared, that person would be none other than Draco Malfoy.
"Are you any good at healing spells?" she whispered. She felt the warmth of his body as he stepped behind her, studying her features in the reflection.
The foggy mirror could not hide the apprehension, pain and unshed tears that swirled in their beautiful brown depths. He nodded.
Before she even realized what she was doing, before she had a chance to allow the rational portion of her abnormally large brain to interject, she slid her robe down and over her shoulders.
...
"So what did you see?" His words hung in the air between them for several seconds. "Come on Hermione," he prodded.
Hermione looked over at the boy sprawled out, his feet up on the dark stained coffee table, seeming to measure him. Draco merely stared back. When her moment of scrutiny turned into twenty, he spoke. "It's my memory, I think that I deserve to know."
CHAPTER TITLE SUBMISSIONS ARE WELCOME MY FRIENDS!
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