Not a long author's note because its late and I want to post this so that I get a good amount of views for it.
Updated twice in one day, not bad!
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Probably my favorite chapter so far! Enjoy and review!
"'I can't hurt you…And I can't…can't do anything. And I can't let you help me and I can't tell you anything because then….' He didn't say it. He couldn't put it into words, because if he did, then everything would be too real. 'Granger, I can't…I just can't feel.'"
~Draco
Fear like nothing else shot through Hermione as her jaw dropped and eyes widened simultaneously. A hand shot to cover her mouth as she gasped, and her head started to shake, left, right, left, right. God, this was just the sort of thing she'd been trying to prevent. And it was all Harry's fault.
"Harry!" she yelled, trying vainly to keep her voice down in the crowded common room. "You attacked a student! How could you?"
She stood in front of the fireplace, facing the boy while Ron looked on from the couch, leaning forward with his hands clasped. His face showed seriousness and worry, but for his best friend and not the victim.
"I've already told you, Hermione," Harry sighed, turning around and putting a hand on his hip while the other worked at his eyes beneath unsteady glasses. "It was an accident. I didn't know what Sectumsempra would do."
"So why use it at all, then?" Hermione groaned, arms hugging herself to try and calm the racing terror she felt for Malfoy's wellbeing. "It could have been much worse!"
"I felt I needed to use it at some point." The black-haired Gryffindor looked at the potions textbook, which rested on the table in front of Ron. "But now I know. I'll never use that spell again."
"And hopefully the book, either!" Hermione glared at it, before crossing her arms and cocking her head at him. "I certainly hope that's what you meant?"
Harry wouldn't turn around to look at her. That was all the answer that she needed, and she let out a groan.
"You can't be serious."
"Hermione, that book has been saving my ass all year! I'm not going to give it up just because of one…incident."
Hermione gaped, exchanging looks with Ron. "'Incident'?! Harry, you jinxed Malfoy so badly that he lay on the floor, bleeding and crying and pleading. Have you ever heard him plead before? That's awful."
Admittedly, even as the blond's best friend, not even Hermione could say she'd heard him do as much. To hear he'd been writhing on the floor, screaming and begging for help…she had to fight back tears.
She blinked them away as Ron finally joined the conversation. "Mate, I think Hermione's right on this one. This Half-Blood Prince bloke can't be as good as you reckon he is. I'm not sure anyone deserves what happened, and this is Malfoy we're talking about."
Hermione turned to the redhead and nodded. "Exactly. Look, I know what that book means to you, but—"
"No, okay?" Harry said, hands clenching into fists. "I can't give it up. I've learned so much, and…." He sighed, shooting it a glance. "I can…I can see what you're saying, but…."
Hermione put her hand on his shoulder gently. "Harry, you don't need it. You've never needed some stupid book to be smart, if that's what you're suggesting."
He didn't say anything for a moment, then offered her a small smile. "Thanks, Hermione. I'll consider it, okay?"
Hermione wasn't entirely satisfied by this answer, but she knew it was the best she'd get out of him for a while. She just nodded, going to sit by Ronald.
Harry kept his back to them, looking at the fire. "But you can't deny it now. He's up to something."
Hermione looked at Ron, caution and apprehension in her eyes. "What do you mean?"
The boy spun to look at them, gaze suddenly serious and almost desperate. "I heard him say things, before we started dueling. He was crying, sobbing more like it; a complete nervous wreck if I've ever seen one. His entire body was shaking. And he kept on saying 'I can't'. What do you suppose that means?"
Hermione frowned in thought as the two turned to look at her, brown eyes watching the fire. Oh, how she wished she knew what Malfoy meant when he said "I can't". He said those words so often that at this point, she should know, but he would never even give her a hint.
Can't tell me. Can't allow himself any help. Can't just talk to me.
She looked at Harry. "Did he say anything else?"
His gaze darkened despite the fire reflecting off of and within them. "Yeah, actually. He said, 'He'll kill me. They'll kill her.'"
Hermione blinked in dull surprise and fear. So whatever he was involved in….
"I don't know," Hermione admitted quietly, shaking her head.
….Was going to kill him. That was why he wouldn't tell her.
"Any idea of who he was talking about?" Ron asked. "The 'her'?"
Harry shrugged. "Probably his mother. He has no one else that he cares about for him to worry about. Man or woman."
Hermione started noticeably. Holy—no. Wha…what? Could he be talking about….
"They'll kill her."
Her mouth fell open slightly and she took in a shaky breath, shuddering as it left her. What if…what if he was pushing her away because…because he had to? Because she was somehow in danger?
She shook the thought from her head. If she was in any sort of eminent peril, he'd surely warn her. He wouldn't just ignore her and let her fend for herself. She knew he cared too much for that.
And she couldn't just jump to that sort of conclusion from nowhere. She'd talk to him about it, whenever he woke up and whenever she could meet him in secret.
Hermione hated that she had to keep their friendship from Harry and Ron, from the school, the world. She was tired of sneaking around, tired of caring what other people thought. At this point, she just wanted things to be simple.
She wondered when she'd tell her two best friends; at some point, they'd have to know. And it had to come from her. It would blow up, yes, and things would get messy, but better her than anyone else. Like Malfoy. She didn't want to think about what would happen if he was the one to somehow tell Harry and Ron about them.
Hermione would have to tell the two Gryffindors. That was a fact.
But the day she told them was not that day. She'd find another time. A better time. And everything would work out fine in the end.
It had to.
. . . ….. . . .
It was not with a quiet opening of the eyes that he awoke, but a body-wrenching gasp and heave that forced his entire top half to sit up on the too-clean bed of the hospital wing. Immediately, he regretted his sudden consciousness; a pain ripped through him unparallel to any other, and he cried out before flopping back to the pillows.
His entire being shook from the effort, from the agony. For a moment, he almost forgot where he was, why he was there, who he was and what. There was so much white. Too bright. Too light.
His chest heaved as ragged breaths in the form of whimpers left his throat, tears threatening to fall at the edge of his eyes. A shaking, whiter than parchment hand rose above him, and he surveyed it through dread shrouded silver orbs. Wrapped in bandages, with lines of red bleeding through.
His fingers slowly found their way to his chest, where they shook quietly over crisscrossed gauze mixed with red and white skin. He swallowed, a harsh attack on his throat, and his hand reluctantly moved to his face.
He could hardly even feel any skin aside from the huge amount of bandages and healing pastes. There was nothing around his chapped, pale lips, but aside from one of his eyes and a small part of his forehead and cheeks, no skin was showing.
Draco had hardly even realized that he could only see from one eye. He wasn't sure how he'd failed to recognize it. Probably from his panic and sudden realization that he was awake and alive.
It squeezed shut, fighting a tear. The simple action seemed to require so much energy, and Draco was sufficiently spent already.
He sighed slowly, head turning to look at his bedside table. Draco was surprised to see that all of his stuff from his dorm room had been moved down for him, including his bookbag, suitcase, and—
A shot of fear raced through him, battling for superiority with the pain. The picture of Granger and him in Potions sat facing him, smiling up in its innocence and good nature.
Had anyone seen this? Would she get hurt from it? If someone affiliated her with him, and she got mixed up in everything, and she got hurt because of him—
Breathe.
His breathing was coming fast now, too fast. He ignored his aching limbs and grabbed for his parchment, groaning and hissing as he fumbled around in his bookbag. But finally, he found it.
With a note from her already on it.
D—
Harry told me everything that happened and I'm terrified beyond belief. Write to me AS SOON as you're up! I'm visiting and I don't care what you say. God, please just be alright.
~H
It was short, but brought a small smile to Draco's face. He wiped it off, biting his lip.
H—
I'm awake.
The pain from writing the two words was enough for him to squeeze his eyes shut and bite down on his tongue to keep a strangled cry from escaping. Why, why did this have to happen to him? Still, he kept writing.
I'm awake. I can't write much right now because the pain is awful. Come whenever, you know I have no visitors to worry about running into. Tonight. Please.
~D
He flopped back onto his bed, sighing as the ink sank into the parchment. She'd come. She always did. She always would.
He had to explain things. Maybe tonight. Hopefully not.
. . . ….. . . .
Granger came into the hospital room with many a hurried movement. 11:00 exactly. Nothing else could be expected from her.
She swooped to his side, eyes widening at how beat up he looked. Her hand went to her mouth, covering it in shock as she looked at him.
There were too many tears in too many eyes nowadays.
"Malfoy…." Her voice was small, shrouded with grief. "I…."
He gave her a small smile. "Hey. It's okay."
She let out a laugh, a harsh one, and she chewed on her bottom lip with a sort of nervousness. "Things aren't okay, Malfoy. Things are never okay."
Her hand traveled slowly, as if moving too fast would scare him like a wild animal. She rested it softly on the side of his face, feeling over the bandages lightly and rubbing her thumb gently at the skin next to his one visible eye. Hers showed sadness, guilt. Her touch, such an intimate movement in the darkness of the wing, sent a jolt through him, a sudden warmth that he'd never felt and one that he welcomed.
Her brown eyes traced over his face, taking in the little skin that could be seen. "Pomfrey says you'll make a full recovery?"
Draco didn't let himself nod. "Yeah. It'll be a week yet, but I'll get better."
Granger's hand left his face, and the absence almost made him sigh in disappointment. The girl looked down, at her hands, shaking her head beneath the moon that threw the room into white and black light so magnificently. Her hair glowed silver, perfect under the stars, and that satin skin shone flawlessly. She looked to the side, and the silhouette of her face against the white of the walls showed perfect cheekbones, delicate eyelashes.
Draco had to tear his eyes away.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered. "It's all my fault. Harry's had that book—that damned potions book—since the beginning of the year, and I've always had a feeling about it….I should have forced him to give it to me, and now he's gone and done this…."
She sniffed and he caught her gaze. "Hey, hey, it's not your fault. It was bound to happen."
Draco remembered the first time through, how sudden and shocking the curse had been. It hadn't been as terrible because Snape had found him almost immediately, but this time…it had taken a while.
"Bound to happen?" Granger looked at him, confusion and incredulity on her face. "You make it sound as if it was fate."
He wasn't sure what to say, so he just stayed quiet. He knew she'd fill the silence.
And she did. Seemingly reluctantly. "Malfoy…Harry said he heard you say some things." He froze up at this, but still didn't say a word. "Something about how someone was going to kill you, or how someone was going to kill 'her'."
She looked at him, catching his gaze and hypnotizing him not to look away. He just nodded. "Yeah."
She bit her lip. "Malfoy, I…I can't stand this anymore. You're going to die, at least…apparently. I need to know. I can't do nothing. And it's killing me, okay? How can you not see that?" Tears were in her eyes again, and her words were a desperate whisper. "Stop pushing me away."
Draco wished he could tell her that he wasn't, that things were normal, just like they always were. That everything was fine. That she was imagining things and they were good.
But he couldn't. He couldn't lie to her, and she wouldn't buy it even if he did.
He finally broke her gaze. "I can't."
"Harry says you said that a lot, too."
"Because I can't, Granger," he snapped quietly, eyes darting away from her.
"You can't what?" She let out a raspy breath. "Can't what?"
"I can't hurt you," he said. Refusing to meet her eyes. "And I can't…can't do anything. And I can't let you help me and I can't tell you anything because then…." He didn't say it. He couldn't put it into words, because if he did, then everything would be too real. "Granger, I can't…I just can't feel."
She grabbed his hand, a sudden and shocking movement that even in its gentleness, made him start. "Malfoy, what does that mean? You can't feel? What…what does that mean?"
He couldn't look at her face or he knew his resolve would crumble and everything would come out. "I-I mean yes, technically I can feel, but I-I can't let myself. I can't, I can't, I can't—" He squeezed her hand. It felt good beneath the aching pads of his fingers. Warm and comforting and welcoming, present and nice.
"Let yourself feel?" Such a small voice against the darkness of the night. "As in?"
No, he couldn't face this. He couldn't tell her, because if he did, and if she didn't feel the same—and when had Draco Malfoy become such a wimp? But what could he do, none of this made sense but it was all his fault and-and there was n-nothing to do for it, but it just—it didn't make sense. He didn't make sense, and she didn't make sense, and both of them together made even less. He couldn't, he couldn't, he couldn't do it. It would only hurt her, and he shouldn't care, but he did, and—
"Malfoy." She rubbed the back of his hand, partially bandaged and partially bare, with her thumb. "Malfoy, there's something you aren't telling me. You know as well as I that I need to know."
He shook his head. "I can't. I can't tell you."
Can't tell her what? That I care? That…that there's no one else I care about? That the chances of her making it through this year are minimal at best—
NO! No! No, no, no no no no—
Granger's hand was at the side of his face again, urging him to look at her gently. He did. He saw fear, and caring, and something else on his face. But he wouldn't fall for that, if he was correct in assuming.
"You've said 'you can't' too much tonight." Her words were delicate on his skin and her breath was sweet against his cheek. His eye softened as it explored her face, every smoothness and curve and plain of it. "It's time you start telling me what you can do."
He blinked and looked away for a moment. She was right. She was always right, just like he was always running.
But he was scared. He was afraid.
But he had to do it. He had to.
"I can't tell you," he started quietly, "because…I don't want to hurt you. Because I can hurt you. I know that, and…it's all my fault. This is all my fault, and I just…I'm not sure what to do about it."
His eye flew to hers, pleading in it for her to understand. She watched him, pain in her eyes as her hand stroked his cheek comfortingly, slowly. Draco's hand moved to cover hers, holding onto it lightly and pressing it gently to his skin. He melted into her touch, into the feeling of her skin on his.
"The only way you can hurt me," she whispered, leaning in minutely, "is by pushing me away."
His throat ached from the feelings rising within it, and he felt tears around his silver orbs. "Oh, I wish that was true."
The girl swallowed. "Then tell me. Please."
His mouth opened slightly before any words could come out. "I…I—"
"Please don't tell me that you can't. You can. Please." Pleading. Begging.
Granger's eyes caught his, and there was so much emotion, overpowering. Longing—he could deny that no longer—and caring, need, want, brokenness. Tears, about to fall, but not for her. For him, because she cared, and she wasn't afraid to admit it.
She was beautiful. Everything about her was beautiful.
Draco's hand left Granger's alone on his face, moving to her neck, cupping her cheek and savoring the feeling of its smoothness and softness beneath his fingers. Her breathing hitched for a moment and her eyes sought after his, but he just watched his hand on her skin, her bare skin. He swallowed, sadness arising in his eyes, his face when he finally met her gaze.
"I can't feel." His voice was low, quiet, raspy in the suddenly deafening silence. "Or at least, I shouldn't. I shouldn't, but I do, and…and I care. A lot." His gaze dropped, but she beckoned it back to hers with her hand. "I care. A…about you," he finished in a whisper.
Her brown eyes never flickered, never blinked, just smiled at him above upturned lips. "I care, too." So quiet. "For you."
Her lips. Those pale pink lips.
It was in slow motion that he moved. Draco felt himself lean in, nearer and nearer, and he knew she was doing the same. His hand, cupped about her cheek and neck, brought her closer, closer, still closer under the moon and its approving light. Both hands rested on her face now, and she was so soft, so good, so perfect in the darkness of the hospital room that he just couldn't help it. He brought her face up to his, so painstakingly slowly, and her closed eyes fluttered beneath delicate eyelashes. Parted lips, so like his.
They were an inch apart. So close, but so far.
And it was at that moment that everything came crashing down. No. No, he couldn't.
"I care," he whispered against her lips, fighting back a break in his voice as a tear finally fell down his cheek. "But…but I can't. I can't do that to you."
Her let go of her.
Granger's eyes opened and stared at him, hardly anything registering in their depths. Dull surprise, dull hurt. Shocked that things had ended like they did.
He leaned back from her. "I can't do that to you. You don't understand, but…." But I can't have this. Whatever this even is.
Her eyes blinked rapidly at her feet as she sat back. "I…." The rest of her words were never spoken. The syllable simply fell off her lips, off those pale pink lips, and floated to the ground. Unheard. Unspoken.
Granger was so broken that it pained Draco, more than any curse ever could. And he had done that to her. But it was better than the alternative.
He couldn't lie to her anymore. "Granger…" The word was uttered softly. "I'll tell you everything. Everything. I promise."
Her eyes flicked to his quickly, skeptical that he'd finally succumbed. She looked reluctant to believe him.
He caught her hand. "I promise."
She watched their joined fingers with an emotionless expression before nodding. "Okay." Then she pulled away. "I'd better get to bed," Granger whispered, standing.
Draco felt a sudden panic in his chest. A memory erupted in his brain, of the beginning of the year when a bushy haired know-it-all had saved his life from one Blaise Zabini. She'd visited him in the hospital and then left in a hurry after he'd insulted her. He'd wanted to call her back, but he didn't.
He wasn't making that mistake again.
Draco grabbed her hand as she moved to go away. She looked down at him in surprise, eyes wide.
Despite his common sense, he knew he couldn't let her go again.
"Stay." A single word, spoken as a statement, uttered as a beg. "Please."
She looked towards the door before meeting his eye slowly and smiling slightly. She nodded. "Okay."
Granger lay on the bed next to his, though her back was to him. He faced her, watching her with a sad and regretful look on his face.
No, Draco told himself. I…I couldn't. I couldn't do that to her. I can't have this and I shouldn't even consider it an option. I have to protect her.
But when he saw the girl fiddling with a charm bracelet on her left wrist, a charm bracelet with a small lion and a piece of parchment on it, a charm bracelet that he'd given her, another part of him fought back.
But if you didn't want this, didn't even want to entertain the idea…
…Then why did you tell her to stay?
Draco swallowed tightly as his eyes shut closed. Oh god.
He liked her, more than he'd thought he'd ever like anyone. He like the girl who'd hated him for years, whom he'd tormented unendingly. He liked the girl who was best friends with the Pothead and stuck up for him despite his idiocy. He liked the muggleborn that knew more about magic than he, a pureblood, would ever understand.
He liked Hermione Granger. Cared for her.
More than liked her, as the night had proven.
And that was the worst mistake he ever could have made.
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