After a long while, she became aware of a presence standing over her.
"Can you leave," she said finally, breaking the silence.
"You look different, Shacklebolt- or is it Potter now?" Malfoy murmured, a tiny sneer on his face. He gestured with hands and waved around his face, "A little sadder behind the eyes."
She ignored that, giving him a level glare.
"So, Shacklebolt, what brings you here to the pits of the school? The armpit of wizarding society, or whatever it is your brother and cousins call the dungeons?" He smirked. "Come to ask for another dance with me?"
"I wanted to be alone," she sighed, swiping angrily at the tears leaking down her face. She started fiddling with a loose thread in her jeans for a moment but then stopped. Folded and unfolded her hands before finally shoving them in her pocket. "No one I know would look for me here, not in Slytherin country."
Malfoy chuckled. "Never one to beat around the bush, huh, Shacklebolt?"
She was silent and watched him watch her. Malfoy tended to play with his food before he ate it, liked the dramatic tension of the wait. She knew if she sat silent long enough, he would get bored and want to blurt out whatever he was thinking so she would react and give him attention.
He cracked.
"How's it feel to have everyone talking about you? They think your brother is a liar, and I guess you, too."
"About what? He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?" She asked calmly.
"Yeah."
"I haven't thought about it yet." She rubbed her temples tiredly. "I'm still dealing with everyone finding out I'm a Potter and Cedric is—" Her voice broke.
"Did you want everyone to know? Like deep down?" He sat beside her, his tone growing conversational, curious.
"I don't know," she sighed. "I have a family, and they love me. I have Harry, he's known for about a year, I don't really know if it was something that really needed to be said."
"Do you actually remember it? That night? When…you know."
"Yeah," she closed her eyes. "It was my birthday, I was four, I have some memories, not a lot, just big moments. Watching your mum die, that's something you can't really forget."
"How come he didn't kill you?"
"My mum hid me in the wardrobe," She replied, opening her eyes to stare at her hands as they shook. "She told me to stay quiet and close my eyes." He was silent for a moment and then gave the faintest of shakes of his head.
"So, you're kind of The-Girl-Who-Lived, too, right? He didn't kill you either."
"Guess so."
"What happened with Diggory?"
She opened her mouth to speak but closed it, her face screwing up as hot tears spilled over from her eyes. She turned her face, curling into herself, ashamed to be crying in front of Draco Malfoy of all people. She felt a hand rest on her shoulder, and she flinched, and it retreated.
"You knew him or something?"
"Or something," she choked out, and his pale hand entered her line of vision, holding out a handkerchief. She took it, swiping at her eyes grudgingly.
"I thought he was dating that Asian girl," he was confused. She let out a sharp, barking laugh.
"It doesn't mean—it was—I never got a chance to say—" she slid across the step and leaned her head against the cool stone wall, closing her swollen eyes. "It was a secret—and I can never say anything about it."
They were silent for a moment, and another handkerchief was handed to her, she bit her lip, looking over at him. How many handkerchiefs did he have? He looked uncomfortable, but something else…empathetic.
"You can tell me," he said simply. "I won't say anything to anyone."
"Why are you being nice to me?" She raised an eyebrow, growing defensive. "We don't like each other."
"True," he shrugged. "But I hate you a lot less than most Gryffindors."
She rolled her eyes, looking away. He watched her eyes well with tears again.
"I loved him."
"Okay," he said simply, taking a breath. "Okay…now—now someone else knows."
A rueful smile crossed her lips, and she pulled a lock of hair behind her ear.
"So, you believe it then, that You-Know-Who is back?" She changed the subject and he nodded; his gaze thoughtful.
She decided she needed to get him to start answering things while he was in a somewhat amicable mood.
"Why do you believe it?" She asked him. His eyebrows furrowed as he thought that over. It dawned on her that he was a lot less revolting without his typical sneer.
"I've never really known you or Potter to lie. I think your brother is still an idiot, though."
"Not relevant."
"Still…" he shrugged. "You two aren't liars."
She thought for a moment.
"Malfoy?"
"Shacklebolt?"
She rolled her eyes at him. "What side are you on with all of this? I mean, the rumors about your family, where do you all stand on this?"
His eyes clouded over as he considered her words. "My father makes his own mistakes. My mum and I, we try to stay out of it, as much as we can…I'm going to do what I need to do, to stay out of it."
"Fair enough, Malfoy," she nodded her head before leaning it back against the wall, "Fair enough."
He leaned back, too, and they sat in silence for a long while. She didn't really understand why he was sticking around, but she found that she didn't have it in her to mind. Her eyes drifted close, her whole body feeling heavy. Something heavy shook her shoulder and she jolted awake to see Malfoy standing over her.
"Shacklebolt, it's late," he said, looking dead exhausted. "Like, it's four in the morning late."
She blinked at him, leaning back against the wall. "What's your point?"
"Don't you need to get back to your dorm? Get some sleep?" He pressed, stifling a yawn.
"Nah," she sighed. "I don't want to face anyone up there."
He studied her for a moment.
"Come on," he sighed finally, holding out a hand to help her up. She stared at it incredulously. "Come on, I'm feeling generous, I'm tired, follow me."
She rubbed at her bleary eyes, accepting his hand as he pulled her to her feet. He dropped it once she was standing and motioned for her to follow him. She had never noticed, as she walked beside him, that he was so tall. He was nearly six feet, not as scrawny as he had once been. He was dressed like the wealthy scion he was, loose expensive slacks, slightly rumpled shirt and jacket, hands tucked in his pockets, a platinum chain glinted from under his collar. He walked as if he didn't have a care in the world.
"Where are we going?" She asked him but he ignored her, turning a corner. Soon, he stopped at a tapestry and pulled it aside, revealing a door, which opened with an unlocking charm. He motioned her inside.
He lit a lantern that was sitting on small table.
"Er, Malfoy?"
They were standing in what was clearly an abandoned Professor's room. Drop cloths covering a bed, sofa, and desk in the small room.
"Relax," Malfoy rolled his eyes. "You can sleep in the bed; I'm going to sleep on the sofa. I come here sometimes, when Crabbe won't stop snoring."
"You mean it, no funny business?" Her shoulders relaxed. A bed sounded nice. He shot her a look and pulled the drop cloths off, cleansing the old bedding and sofa cushions with a few charms. He stole a throw blanket from the foot of the bed and a pillow and sat down to take off his shoes. She followed his lead, sitting on the creaky, but surprisingly comfortable bed. Her boots were muddy from the maze, and she felt her fingers tremble, realizing that was only hours ago.
"Go on, Shacklebolt, lay down," Malfoy was climbing under the blanket, laying back. "You look like death; you need the rest. No one will find us here, I'm pretty sure I'm the only person who knows about this place."
"For once Malfoy," she slid under the comforter, tired muscles relaxing. "Thank you. I mean it."
"Don't mention it," he said around a yawn, turning out the light on the lantern. "I mean it, don't mention it. This doesn't change anything."
She didn't say anything, just rolled over, curling into the pillow. Her eyes were too tired and dry to form tears, but as she thought over his words, it occurred to her that everything already was changing.
Cedric was dead.
Everyone knew she was a Potter.
Voldemort was back.
And Draco Malfoy was being kind to her.
Nothing would ever be the same.