Chapter Twenty-Four: The Very Bad Day

Draco paced in the corridor, chewing his thumbnail and trying to convince himself this was necessary. He'd decided to get Hermione something simple - just some chocolates in Hogsmeade - the trouble was, now he'd need to actually get them. Which would require permission.

Snape's office door had remained shut tightly all morning, resolute and uninviting.

The one time it would be handy to have a different Head of House, he thought bitterly. Their last interaction hadn't gone very well, after all. He nearly jumped when, mid-step, the door flew open.

"Are you going to come in, or did you plan on wearing a hole in the floor with that incessant pacing?"

Snape, pale and greasy-haired, stared down at Draco. He frowned more deeply than usual.

"Happy Christmas, professor," Draco said. "Er - can I come in?"

After receiving a formidable scowl, Draco shrugged his way through the door, careful to give Snape a wide berth.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" Snape asked, voice tight.

"I - er - wanted to ask something," Draco said. He drew in a breath. "I'd like to go to Hogsmeade today, sir. I know it's not a Hogsmeade weekend, but I thought -"

"No."

"No?" Draco repeated automatically.

Snape rolled his eyes. "You have work to do here, Draco. Do not believe for a moment that I will encourage your procrastination. The Dark Lord is already displeased with you."

"He is?" This was news to Draco. He looked for a seat to sink into, but settled for leaning against Snape's desk for support. "Why?"

"Because of your inaction, that's why," Snape hissed. "I had precious little to tell him, when questioned on your progress. You are very lucky I am a skilled Occlumens, Draco. Otherwise your unwillingness to cooperate would have been on full display."

Draco closed his eyes. So much for enjoying his Christmas.

"Though while you're here..." Snape continued. Draco looked up. "I have received word from your mother. She sent this for you." He indicated a large glass bottle that sat on his desk; Draco hadn't noticed it before, but looking at it now, it seemed quite old. "Your next move is being... Taken care of."

A distinct sense of unease crept through Draco.

"My next move?" he asked slowly.

Snape's eyes darkened, and he looked away. "Dumbledore, Draco."

Draco chewed this over. He didn't like that the plan was going through despite his efforts to ignore it. It was supposed to be his scheme, anyway... If he decided to drop it, then Dumbledore should be safe.

It seemed that wasn't actually the case.

"I see," Draco said, voice low. Now he really wanted to sit down.

"I hope that you do," Snape said. "And I suggest you return to work on the vanishing cabinet. They expect it to be in working order by the end of the month."

"That's not long enough!" Draco protested immediately.

Snape cut him off with a raise of his hand. "It will need to be long enough."

Fuck me, Draco thought miserably. Only an hour ago his main concern had been what flavor of chocolates to get Hermione. Now he had to face reality, or face Voldemort's wrath.

Or more likely, both.

"I noticed you're still keeping questionable company," Snape went on.

Draco winced. "Says who?"

"Don't be a fool," Snape snapped. "You think I can't see it? A student who previously never studied during meals, now spends his dinners scribbling on one lousy piece of parchment? His object of lamentable interest doing the same?"

Draco's heart dropped a little more with each word. He'd thought they were so careful...

"You would do well to end it now," Snape said.

"Maybe I won't," Draco replied, lifting his chin. "Maybe my lamentable interest isn't so bad after all, okay?"

Snape slammed his palms down on the desk, suddenly angry. Draco flinched back, stumbling a bit as he shuffled away.

"Do you not see?" Snape growled. "It's not only for your sake that I warn you. If you keep at this, Miss Granger will be targeted. She will perish because of your immature folly. Can you live with that on your hands, Draco?"

Heart pounding, Draco watched his professor with wide eyes. He'd never seen Snape come undone like that.

But aside from surprise at Snape's outburst... Draco had to admit, it rang with truth. An unfortunate truth that he'd been avoiding for months now, if not years.

Blaise's words, almost forgotten, crept through Draco's head: She's not an option. She never was.

"I don't want her to get hurt," Draco said softly.

"Then you'd do well to drop it now. Was there anything else you needed?"

Draco shook his head, unable to meet Snape's eye. "That was all, professor. I'll go."

Some ruddy Christmas this turned out to be.

...

While sitting alone during dinner, pushing his potatoes around his plate in disinterest, Draco felt his pocket get warm. He hadn't been able to part with Hermione's magicked note, and he wasn't sure he'd be able to in the future, but for now he'd need to ignore it. After all, Snape sat only so far away, up at the professor's table with the rest of the faculty. By now Hagrid was hiccuping loudly, cheeks rosy, and sharing jokes with McGonagall and Sprout; on Snape's end of the table, no one spoke.

He pocket continued heating up.

Take a hint, won't you? he thought. He knew he didn't mean it, though.

Finally, when his leg began burning to an unbearable point, Draco slid the paper out of his pocket. It felt cool on the skin of his hand, oddly enough. Draco unfolded it and scanned it quickly.

Are you alright? You don't look well, it said.

Draco frowned down at it, resisting the urge to look up at Hermione. He knew he probably didn't look well; he didn't feel well. The prospect of calling things off with his newly-acquired girlfriend - if that was the right word - made him feel queasy. Maybe he could at least put it off until after Christmas...

Finally making up his mind to reply, Draco watched the little makeshift quill form with impatience. It fell into his palm. He scribbled quickly.

Bad day, he wrote simply. Then, after cringing at himself, he continued. See you tonight?

What's wrong?

Draco frowned, growing annoyed with Hermione's need-to-know attitude. How was he supposed to keep her safe and out of the way when she refused to let things go? But, at the same time, wasn't that curiosity exactly what made Hermione... Well, Hermione?

Later, he wrote. He could almost feel the paper heating up again, bursting with Hermione's questions. With a sigh, he wrote on.

Snape knows.

He stared at the paper, but no response bloomed onto its surface. One long minute ticked by, and Draco chanced a look up. Hermione sat at her table, now apparently quite content, sipping from a goblet. She stared at an open Daily Prophet.

Draco smiled. Her paper wasn't in sight; she must've gotten the message.

Of course, none of this changed their awful situation. Snape's words still floated around in Draco's head, but it was the passion behind them that struck a chord... By now, Draco was almost certain that Snape had some terrible backstory behind that facade of apathy. He'd always known that the man cared more than he let on, but to see him that angry...

Draco's thoughts drifted helplessly, unwilling to trail back to Hermione. He chewed on a heel of bread, but it was tasteless on his tongue. After a few minutes of trying to convince himself to eat more, Draco pushed away from the table and left the hall.

...

Draco sat against the wall outside of the Room of Requirement, his posture more slumped than usual, and he waited quietly for Hermione to arrive. He'd been equally dreading and welcoming this moment all day, and it still felt like his brain couldn't decide how to feel about it.

Right on cue, light footsteps came hurrying up the corridor. When Draco looked up, he saw a very breathless-looking Hermione. She didn't stop at the entrance of the room, however. She instead gave Draco a significant look and walked directly past him, her lit wand held aloft as usual.

Draco scrambled to his feet, then managed to catch up in a few short strides.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"Someone's following me," Hermione whispered, keeping her eyes straight ahead.

Draco felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. The only person he could think to suspect was Snape. Glancing quickly over his shoulder, Draco saw nothing but shadows.

"How do you know?" he asked, dropping his voice. Hermione led him down a staircase, her pace quickening as they reached the bottom.

"I could hear them," she said. "Their steps are heavier than mine, almost like yours… They've kept up."

Draco faltered, but still kept pace quite easily. Hermione's shorter legs had to work hard to take her anywhere quickly, so he had the advantage there.

"Snape wouldn't be heard, he knows better," Draco said slowly.

Hermione nodded. "That's what I thought, too."

Hermione led them down another corridor, then eventually they found themselves at the moving staircases. She grasped Draco's arm and dragged him onto the first set of stairs to arrive.

"Who else would follow you?" Draco asked, feeling much better once the staircase got moving.

Hermione didn't answer, but instead chewed on her lip, a worried expression on her face. The pair took the next corridor at a run, and after a few turns - which had Draco very thoroughly lost, though Hermione seemed to know what she was doing - she suddenly halted in front of a statue.

"Dissendium," she hissed.

By the time Draco realized what had happened, Hermione had opened the hump of the hump-backed witch, and pushed him inside. He stumbled, and the ground fell away. If he hadn't been so intent on hiding from their pursuer, then he would have yelped in surprise. Thankfully the drop was short, and it leveled out near the bottom, so Draco merely tumbled to a slow stop. A moment later Hermione's wand went out, washing them in darkness, and she collapsed onto him with a shocked "Oh!"

They both froze, listening intently. Draco counted the seconds, wondering how long they'd need to wait before they were safe; about half a minute later, he heard footsteps from above, and he felt Hermione go rigid. The steps didn't pause whatsoever, but merely continued until they faded away.

Relieved - but not entirely sure why he was frightened in the first place - Draco let his head fall back onto the ground. He felt Hermione lay her head on his chest, apparently just as exhausted.

"That was close," Hermione said.

"What was close, though?" Draco asked.

"I don't know," Hermione answered. "But if anyone finds out about the come-and-go room, we won't be safe meeting there anymore."

"Snape knows."

Hermione went still. Draco reached up and wrapped his arms around her small frame, taking a moment to enjoy having her near. Her cloak felt grimy, which made Draco wonder what they were both covered in after that fall.

"Help me find my wand," Hermione said, disentangling herself from Draco. He rolled over, and the two began patting the ground aimlessly. Draco realized that the floor felt like dirt, which was probably what got them all messy. He frowned unhappily at this.

"How do you know about this place?" he asked, unable to hide the disgust in his voice.

Hermione laughed. "Can't stand a little dirt, can you? Oh, here it is. Lumos."

Light filled the small space, blinding Draco for a moment. He blinked. They had actually tumbled into a tunnel of some kind, but to where Draco couldn't guess. They sat on the dirt floor, and patches of dusty brown marred Draco's pants, shoes, and shirt. He scowled.

"And to answer your question, Harry showed it to us," Hermione continued, brushing off her sleeves. It did little to help.

"Potter? Wait," Draco looked up the short slope, toward the hump-backed witch, then craned his neck to stare down the rest of the tunnel. "It goes to Hogsmeade, doesn't it? That's how Potter kept sneaking out during third year!"

Hermione, to her credit, didn't look particularly pleased about this either, and muttered something like "always has to break the rules" under her breath. She ran a hand through her hair, which looked considerably wilder than usual. It was getting long, well past her shoulders now.

Draco, his heart still beating fast from their escape-of-sorts, leaned back against the wall. He watched Hermione untangle her crazy locks, not quite sure where this left them.

"So," he said, "Any thoughts on the mysterious stalker?"

Hermione sighed, slumping against the opposite wall.

"I'm back to thinking Snape, actually," she answered, rubbing her face tiredly. She smeared dirt across her cheek unknowingly, though Draco was too distracted to notice.

"But - I thought we said -"

"I know, Draco," Hermione cut in, "But what if he wasn't trying to sneak up on us? Maybe he wanted to scare us off, instead. And let's face it, we have no idea who else it would be."

Draco chewed this over. Would Snape go through all this trouble just to scare them off? He wasn't sure. It seemed more like Snape's style to sneak around and then confront them directly, and Draco knew first-hand that Snape wouldn't be seen or heard if he didn't want to be. Instead of arguing the point, though, Draco just nodded slowly.

They sat in silence for a few long moments. Draco wondered what time it was.

"Some way to spend Christmas, huh?" he said. "I'm sorry I got you wrapped up in this."

"Don't be silly," Hermione said, shrugging her shoulders. She smiled. "Besides, it looks like I'm handling the dirt much better than you are."

Draco raised his eyebrows. "Only because it's smeared over half your face, maybe."

At that, Hermione blushed immediately, though it was difficult to tell in the dim lighting. She pulled up the sleeve of her cloak and started scrubbing at her face.

"Wait - you're just getting it everywhere," Draco said, grinning now. He pulled out his wand and leaned forward, gently taking the hem of Hermione's cloak. She stopped fussing.

"Scorgify," Draco said, and the dirt on the fabric flaked away. "Aguamenti."

He raised the edge of the cloak, now clean and damp, up to Hermione's cheek, and to Draco's mild surprise, she didn't object. Gently wiping at her face, and trying not to look into her eyes, Draco's thoughts returned to Snape's dismal prediction.

She will perish due to your immature folly. Can you live with that on your hands, Draco?

"I - I think it'll take more than just this to get cleaned up," Draco said, trying to steady his voice. His hand was shaking. He pulled away. "Think it's safe to head out?"

Something passed over Hermione's face, not that Draco could tell what, and she watched him carefully.

"Something's wrong," she said. "You said you had a bad day... Tell me about it."

Draco shook his head, trying to come up with an excuse. "I can't think with all this dirt everywhere. Let's go."

Hermione didn't question him like Draco expected, but merely fixed him with a concerned stare. She watched him get up, then accepted his extended hand, and they made their way back up the slope toward the hump-backed witch.

They strode slowly through the corridors this time, listening intently for another set of footsteps, but this time none came.

Draco didn't like the idea that someone had been following Hermione around, and it occurred to him that it might've even been unrelated to their excursions and Draco's Death Eater connections. What if someone had followed Hermione, just to follow Hermione?

He ground his teeth together. It wasn't as likely, he didn't think, especially since the stalker hadn't backed off once they'd met up outside of the Room of Requirement. In a small way, that was a relief - Draco could handle worrying about Snape, or someone snooping around where they shouldn't be, but the idea of some creep following Hermione around made him feel ill.

Still, to be safe, Draco led her directly to Gryffindor Tower.

"Look..." he said, and Hermione's face fell.

"We can't keep doing this, can we?" she asked, her voice soft.

Draco shook his head. Maybe this was for the better. He put a hand under Hermione's chin and lifted her face, though she didn't seem to want to look at him. His stomach dropped a little when he realized how disappointed she seemed.

"I need you to be careful," Draco said. "We don't know what they - whoever they are - well, we don't know what they want. Just... Don't do anything, well -"

"Don't do anything stupid," Hermione said, smiling slightly. "I'll be careful. Promise me you'll be careful too, okay?"

Draco nodded.

"I mean, I can walk you down to the dungeons, if you'd like -"

He rolled his eyes. "I think I can take it from here, 'Mione. But thanks."

Hermione blinked. It took a moment for Draco to realize what he'd called her, and for a split-second he felt sheer panic - the last time he'd called her 'Mione, she'd stormed off in a fit of rage, after all.

"Sorry," Draco said. "I didn't mean -"

"It's alright," Hermione said. "It's... It's alright."

She put a small hand on Draco's arm, then reached up and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. Draco wanted to grab her shoulders and tell her to stay just a while longer... But he didn't. He let her go.

"Good night, Draco," Hermione said softly.

"Good night, 'Mione," he replied.

She disappeared behind the portrait, but Draco wasn't watching. He wasn't thinking about anything except how empty he felt, how this didn't feel right. The only thing that felt right anymore had just left him for the night, and he wanted her back.

Draco's legs carried him down corridor after corridor, past flights of stairs, and he didn't take any of it in. Aside from lighting his wand with a hushed "lumos," he remained trapped in his own thoughts, unaware of anything else.

At some point his path changed, and he no longer strode toward the dungeons. At some point, he made a detour, and pushed open the heavy door to a deserted lavatory.

"Oooh, you don't look so good."

Moaning Myrtle, floating above the toilet stalls in all her pale and transparent glory, adjusted her glasses and peered down at Draco.

"I'm not here to talk," he said simply. He fell against the wall, slumped over in defeat. It was all too much - not just Hermione, but the vanishing cabinet, the mission to kill Dumbledore... He was just a kid. His biggest worry was supposed to be passing his N.E.W.T.s next year.

Wrapping his arms around his legs, Draco buried his face and went very still. He sat like that for a long time, trying not to think, before Myrtle drifted down and sat beside him, her usual taunting and wailing put on hold for now.

Author's Note: Prepare yourselves. It's about to get a bit dark.

Love you all,

Penny