A/N: So sorry for the long absence from this fic. I was drained in my inspiration for a while and had to get fresh perspective to have the story move forward the way I want it to. I appreciate all the love this fic gets. I'll try to be more consistent with updates. I'm finally recovered from COVID and finding my writing urge again. Thanks for staying with it this long! You're the best. Stay safe out there and long live dramione
Chapter 26
The Way You Lie
Hermione was beyond shocked. She was numb.
Lucius Malfoy cursed someone, and it was possible he murdered that same wizard when he started to recover. That would have threatened to expose the Malfoy family in allegiance to the Dark Lord. It was the world's worst kept secret. Everyone knew of their loyalties.
Harry had a dream that revealed as much. He was so spooked that he told Hermione despite their differences that took place over the year. They were all in a scary situation together. Bound tight. He had to tell someone. Even if it was her…
That night in Gryffindor Tower, Harry, Ron and Hermione huddled together in a hug for what felt like hours. Not one word was said. Just the heat of their shared breaths as the fear of what they faced showed it's ugly head once more.
The world outside Hogwarts was in ruin. The castle repelled the nastiness, but all at once, when they were released back to their lives, the horror would find them all once more.
"You've got to fight harder, Harry. If you can see these dreams, the link is functioning. Voldemort can use it back."
"I don't try to see inside. It just happens."
"The Order's protection rests with you. All our safety. Mine and Ron's. Sirius, Lupin. All the Weasleys. It all rests with you."
"Not entirely," he said bitterly. "You've got Malfoy to protect you."
Yes. That was true. He would protect her if it meant cursing the world to darkness.
"Don't be daft, mate. Malfoy hasn't had a piece of spine the whole time we've known him. Doubt he'd do much of anything for Hermione."
Both their eyes, her two best friends, shined with expectation. They awaited her confirmation. Her word, a gospel between them. The encouraging blue of Ron's gaze to the piercing want in Harry's green, she was left with little option.
"Malfoy would sooner protect his robes than me," she said. "Against Voldemort? His hair would even curl and run away."
It brought a light splash of humor. The boys chuckled to themselves, wry smiles and gentle nods of agreement.
The idea of Draco Malfoy being cowardly was not hard to believe.
Hermione betrayed her own belief to say it, and it physically hurt to keep her evidence to the contrary to herself, but she managed to lift her friend's spirits enough that he agreed to apply himself in his private lessons. The stab at his pride to have to continue through his 'remedial potions' class did not rest lightly with Harry. She knew. He hated feeling so powerless against the threat that his own mind was.
They all hated it. Their power, gone from their grasp.
The sofa in front of Gryffindor Tower's fireplace welcomed the three friends back to its realm. Hermione took place in the center of the two wizards. Each held her hand as they watched the flames chew through the logs until nothing, but ash was left.
The common room turned cold with the fire gone. Goosebumps broke out all over her exposed arms. She withheld her shivers from trembling in her seat. She might wake Ron. His face was smashed against her shoulder. The sounds out of his mouth were that of a dragon, loud and deadly. He was more fearsome asleep than he was awake.
Sleep alluded her. She was alive with the thoughts of murder. Draco's father murdered a person with ease. It was not a leap to believe he could kill her if he wished to. And Lucius most certainly wished to.
A muggleborn tainted the Malfoy line. It compromised their safety, the honor of an ancient lineage, the integrity of their sole heir.
It was not beyond the work of a Slytherin Death Eater to kill her to ensure that doubt was not cast upon his life and that of his heir. Draco's continuation was the utmost importance. He carried on their line, their legacy, the only thing that mattered to a wizard family like the Malfoys.
Draco's fraternization with Hermione was a risk that Lucius would not continue to take.
A time would come that action would be required, even if it was from a cowardly Slytherin. Preservation of their pure line would trump all worries of interference. If not done by Draco's own hand, Narcissa and Lucius would kill her in spite of his wish to keep her alive.
It would come down to him. Draco's choice. His family or her.
Confidence in his dedication faltered. The falsehood that they were bound together beyond all interference was all she had, and it shifted the longer she contemplated the future.
But for now, he was hooked. Hooked on her, on sex, on control. It was what kept them together.
The shift in the sofa on her left side pulled her from the lost thoughts of the troubling wizard to the other troubling wizard of her life: Harry.
"I thought you were sleeping," she said in a soft whisper, as to not disturb Ronald. Not that he'd hear over his own obnoxious snoring. "Godric, it is a wonder he isn't deaf yet."
"He doesn't get much sleep," Harry answered. His eyes continued to stare at the empty hearth of the fireplace. The absence of light and warmth left it a cold, dark, hidden place, a reminder that fuel kept the fight of fire alive. "He watches me all night. Makes sure I don't do something in my sleep."
Harry sighed the long, knowing sigh of defeat. She recognized the tone. The absence of hope building in his head. "He doesn't think I know, but I do. Under your orders, I expect."
That hurt.
Her breath refused to waiver. The dedication to the good in the world and Harry was not a shameful act, even if it felt more like it as the days wore on. He might believe her untrue, but her heart held him in highest importance. His life was worth more than anyone. Even hers.
"Only because I know you'd not live with yourself if you did something in your sleep that you weren't aware of."
"You don't trust me, Mione, to know when to stop?"
"By the sounds of your nightmares, Harry, they're as real as you see me."
He nodded, a glimmer in his eye behind his glasses. No doubt Cedric Diggory popped to his mind. "Yeah, they are."
"Then who's to say what might be introduced to a nightmare of yours? Voldemort knows the connection. He knows what torture he's inflicting. He feels it. Just like you feel him. He knows how much you fear yourself and how you'd never forgive yourself if you hurt someone else. Not a stretch to think he might try to use you as your own demise, is it? What better way to hurt you than through you?"
"You could have just told me."
"Would you have listened to me?"
His eyes blinked hard. The shift sharp glance at her face with a pair of downturned lips. "Of course."
She doubted that. "Honestly. You've been angry at me all year. Haven't trusted a word I've said."
"I trust you, Hermione," he explained. "I just don't trust Malfoy. Can't trust a word he says."
"Don't you think I know that? You don't think I know him too? Haven't endured years of his abuse, too?" She growled. "You say you trust me. That I'm your friend."
Harry's grip on her hand suddenly released and then tightened, as if in surprise.
"I know. I do. I am. We are, I mean, friends."
"Then trust me, Harry. Really trust me. You've had my complete faith for years. Can't I have a little of yours?"
The castle of Hogwarts knew of Draco's attention to Hermione, and her willingness to be in his presence. They were never seen apart. Not without reason. Harry and the other Gryffindors were not oblivious to the relationship. They observed it like the rest of the school did. Draco ordered Hermione around and guarded her like a prized treasure from everyone.
Word they were dating was popular. It was the most believed reasoning.
Harry disputed it widely. Any mention was met with an almost violent denial.
"No. No. She'd never do that. She wouldn't. Malfoy has her fooled."
Although he never said, Ron believed that Draco and she were together. He implied it often. The wizard supported her endlessly. He never pressed the idea of her leaving when she had to. An understanding in his eyes brought her to tears if she lingered too long on the thought. He was the only one she knew would be there if she failed and fell.
Draco would curse her in anger, and Harry would just ignore her. But Ron? If it all blew up in her face and ruined the world, he would hold her with care and pick up the pieces.
The coldness of the common room stung harsher. An entire late night and early morning spent on the worn-in sofa without a fire filled a sadness through the air. She breathed it in with struggling breaths. It tasted foul.
Gryffindor Tower was smokey and warm. Never foul.
Harry grinded his palms into his eyes. The frail, thin glasses tossed atop his thighs without a care.
He looked tired. Worn thin. She related to it because it looked the way she felt inside. There was not enough of them to go around. By the way Ron was passed out against her, it was safe to say he was, too.
"His dad was there. In the graveyard. He was one of the ones who tried to kill me."
"I know," she answered in a hollow voice.
Lucius Malfoy and Draco were different. They had to be. Lucius was a monster. Draco was only a wizard stuck in a hard place same as she was.
"I just can't imag - ." Harry stopped. The muscles of his throat trembled and gulped before he continued. "What if Draco is on a mission? What if he hurts you? I feel it in my bones, Hermione. There is something different in how he looks at you."
Of course, there was. He was obsessed with her. Every waking thought centered upon keeping Hermione his own. She was the plague on his thoughts, his actions, his soul.
"I assure you, he is not on any mission other than to annoy me."
"How can you be sure?"
Good question. She would like to know the answer to it, too.
Her thighs shifted in discomfort over formulating a response. "You shouldn't worry about people like Malfoy. He is only meant to distract you so that Voldemort can do his own bidding. Now that he is alive, you can only trust that he wants you to himself." Her fingers pinched into Ron's side. The melody of snores interrupted by his startled jump. "Your occlumency lessons should be your first priority."
"What's that now?" The red head was sleepy-eyed and he rubbed them with the hopes of silencing their need away. It'd been a long time since he was given a solid moment of sleep.
"Go to bed, Ron." She said with a soft smile.
Their bodies rose from the sofa. Only hers was held back by the hold on her wrist.
"I trust what you say. You are my friend. Which is why I know there is something wrong. I can't prove it, but I can feel it. You're hiding something." The intensity in his tone spoke to his belief of his words. "I won't let you be a toy for Malfoy."
Her blood turned cold. Draco's threat was real. Especially now.
If Harry tried to free her from Malfoy's hold, he'd get Harry expelled.
Her jaw clenched tight. She leaned in close so that her breath would just tickle Harry's nose. The moon pendant fell away from her throat to swing openly in the air.
"I will only say this once because I'm your friend and I love you," she pronounced in her firmest voice. "Stay. Away. From. Draco. Malfoy."
The discussion ended. It was left in the silent morning in pitch black, swallowed whole by the lingering sadness and separation, tension gripped the throat of the Tower until dawn pierced through the cold glass windows.
Fingers of frost rose through the clear panes, only splintered by the growing warmth of steady light. Still, the white spines stayed perched against the window as leeches to the warmth within.
Harry was not there when Hermione came back down for breakfast. She'd assumed he slept out on the sofa since she never heard him leave the common room but his absence concerned her. The first one to rise in Gryffindor Tower was her. Every day. Harry overslept.
She ran her fingers through her smoothed waves. Soon his obsession with Draco Malfoy had to end. It was bordering ridiculous. Harry had more important things to worry about. Being public enemy number one, as according the Ministry, was more serious than a petty rivalry. As was being hunted by a psychotic mass murderer. Umbridge was jumping at reasons to punish and eventually expel Harry. Any slip in his life was a long way down. It was not the time to be jealous. The time for action and preparation was upon him.
More so, she suspected he was not applying himself to his private lessons. There wasn't a fragment of resistance in his body. He allowed Voldemort to enter. It happened with ease. A reckless choice. It threatened the entire world. But did he think of that? No. He wanted to know if Draco had a larger wand!
A sharp stomp was at her feet when she left Gryffindor Tower. There was an absent welcoming party.
Her eyes scanned through the corridor. He was nowhere to be seen.
Draco and Hermione were the first to awaken most mornings. It was becoming habit for him to appear outside the Tower as she left for breakfast. In another world, it might have been sweet. Romantic, even. A lovely stroll down to the Great Hall as two people did, in polite congress and mutual admiration.
The case of the missing Harry Potter was all but forgotten. That was until she heard his voice. Shouting.
"You're a right foul git, you know that?"
"Watch the way you speak to me, Potter. It sounds too familiar for my taste."
"I don't give a damn about your taste!" Harry exclaimed. It echoed through the halls.
The early hour left little resistance for the sound to travel at its leisure through the castle. By the time it hit Hermione's ear, she might have been floors away. All she could do was listen. It carried through the corridors, winding and weaving. She followed. Her steps were quick below.
If Harry ruined everything she worked for in a rash moment, she'd explode.
"Leave Hermione alone. I mean it."
"You forget, Potter," Draco spat his name, "I'm one of the few who don't bow to the commands of lesser wizards."
"If you want to hurt me, then just do it. Don't bring her into this. Coward."
A sharp long hiss came from Draco's teeth.
"Coward. Tough talk for a wizard who couldn't save Diggory. You were there, weren't you? Could have saved his life. Oh, that's right. I forgot. Saint Potter only cares for himself. In the end, that's all that matters. It isn't your friends. It's you. All about you."
Godric, where were they?
The frantic pulse throughout her body was strong enough to move her limbs. Pains shot through her chest.
There was a shuffling. She heard their feet screech against the floor as they scuffled. A few soft blows split the air.
"Some protector you are!" Draco taunted. "Granger will be as good as dead if she stays with you."
It only encouraged more scuffle. Harry grunted. A sharp intake of breath she knew to be Draco's resulted. More blows. They grew louder.
She was close. The air of the castle turned to tense thick cloud as she neared.
"If she's left with you, her blood will coat the wallpaper at Malfoy Manor. Or should I say, Mental Manor."
That was too far. Even she felt that change in Draco's temper.
The two wizards stood apart. Each were tense from their fight. Ruffled uniforms, red marks on their faces. Draco's tie was wretched over his shoulder and Harry's glasses were bent against his nose.
The morning light highlighted the drastic friction from their opposing bodies against the wall. A tainted shadow puppet show of hate in human motion.
One arm drew a long rigid stick and bared it in their hand.
"Locomotor Mortis!" Draco cried.
Harry was quick to draw his own wand. The spell was deflected away.
"Expelliarmus."
"Reducto!"
Neither of the wizards noticed Hermione's approach.
Harry's back was to her. He blocked the path to see Draco's eyes. Yet, the violent action of his shadow only told of his fury. He fired his curses in rapid-fire with barely a breath between.
Spells flew back and forth. Both were quick with shields. Neither landed a spell.
The pace quickened. Their bodies moved in reflection of one another's steps. Eyes only saw the others.
Another spell shot past. "Expelliarmus."
It was answered with a wayward swing of Draco's wand. "Reducto."
The two-second delay in Harry's motions prevented him from diffusing it. His only action was to step aside to allow it to pass. And when he did this, the spell crossed their battle arena, straight for Hermione.
The pounding of her heart, already violent from worry, then lurched as the unexpected curse beamed toward her. She slipped through the folds of her cloak, grasped the wood she trusted so dearly, and flexed it across her chest like a shield as she muttered the counter curse under her breath.
It broke against her body with a sudden gasp.
Both wizards stood frozen in horror.
"Hermione," Harry breathed.
Draco's eyes filled with red. They flickered over to Harry, the burning desire to kill him on sight raise through his expression, all that waited was for the taut clench of his jaw.
His arm brandished the wand to the wizard. The temptation to curse rose. It overtook the red with pure black.
He stepped forward, intent to harm Harry with all his might.
"Stop it!" She cried. Her voice was an exclamation comprised of love and disappointment. "Stop this, the both of you."
"You were almost hurt because of him," Draco replied.
Harry's eyes were hardened with resolve. "It was your spell."
"Meant for you."
"It wouldn't have happened at all if you had left her alone," Harry declared. "She's not yours. She's not for a Malfoy. Go on. Tell your dad he can't have her. Or Voldemort. Hermione is not for sale."
The air was full of Draco's palpable anger. Each mention of Hermione from Harry's lips brought an unstoppable rage throughout him.
Harry was not better. All she saw was anger in him. It was more Voldemort than it was Harry. And that was not her friend. It was grief and fear and pain that made Harry Potter who he was now, not the wizard or friend she loved so dearly.
Both of the wizards went against their promises to her. Their word.
She couldn't stand it any longer. "Stop using me as an excuse!" She shouted. "I am not an item to be tossed back and forth when you want it. I'm a person. And the only reason you fight is because of yourselves." Her throat clenched closed. It didn't want to say it. "Both of you betrayed your word to me, and for that, I'll never forgive you. If you want to kill one another, do so without using me as a shield but I'm not going to be there to pick up the pieces. I'm done."
In the spilt second, her eyes looked to the one she loved more than anything. She saw the blow to his heart land direct center. The look of pure heartbreak shattered his expression. It was only a moment, but it molded to her mind. An image she'd never forget.
Before either were able to form another sound, another syllable that might erode the strength she found, her lips murmured, "Fumos," and with a large burst of smoke throughout the corridor, she slipped away.
A single destination didn't leap to mind. She found her body moving toward a place she didn't realize until she was wrapped in a warming charm and out in the snowy, bitter morning to watch the iced water move below the foot bridge. The quiet of the morning deafened everything. Her heart, her mind, her soul, her magic. It all was lulled to sleep in that blank emptiness.
Evergreen trees coated in a layer of sparkling white glinted with the golden rays of morning sun reminded her of Christmas. She used to spend it on her grandparent's country estate with rows of trees as tall as a house. Early morning walks after a night snowstorm were her favorite. Beauty and peace after such devastation. The howling moan of the wind as it pushed against the house lost to the still of daybreak. Endless spread of white snow and frosted trees.
The more she learned of the darkness that spread, she wished for the hope that beauty might emerge through it all. A night finally ended; bright rays of morning brilliance to reign over England. How the hope that she might be whole enough to enjoy serenity faded as time passed.
In the shadow of evils that walked the earth, how could any semblance of beauty continue on? Was it not touched with the spreading illness, the rot, decay, fermentation of the world? Would there be good left to live with?
Her hands grasped the cold railing of the foot bridge. They were small against the wood. Small compared to the empty beyond that awaited just on the other side. So small.
The fate of hands so small against a world so large, so threatening, so heavy. What could two hands do in the face of relentless hate?
Hermione stared off into the frigid morning until it was time for class. She was the first to enter, taking a spot within Gryffindor space and allowing her dorm mates to filter in around her. Romilda Vane was kind enough to take the seat alongside before either of her friends were given the choice.
No matter how many times Harry tried to catch her attention (he sat right behind her), she focused only on the lecture and note taking. Whenever she did happen to catch his eye, she pretended to see right through him.
Draco, too, was painfully obvious to be very displeased by her behavior. More than once, a paper ball was flicked into her curls or at her cheek so that she might be tempted to look over.
Both wizards only irritated her further. They'd screwed up enough to know how to apologize properly. Half-arsed attempts to woo her with force was not the key to her graces. A fact that was bound to set in soon.
The rest of the day was not any easier. She avoided Harry like the plague. He was patient, and confident enough that she'd come around. His attitude made it easier to resist the urge to extend forgiveness without apology.
Draco, on the other hand, was the plague. He had her running through the castle to slip past his grip. She knew his wiles. He knew how to use them on her. There was not enough trust in the world she could find that would resist whatever the hell tempted her into love with Draco Malfoy. All she knew was that it was too powerful to doubt.
He tried sending his cat after her, and his friends. She managed to slip through time and time again. But she was getting tired of being so drained, so broken, so lonely, so disappointed all the time.
It was only during Slytherin's Quidditch practice that she found any peace at all. She was buried within her studies with the freedom to roam the castle without fear of where he might show up. The library was an old friend that she needed. The one stroke of sanity in the madness that reigned. One of the few comforts. Reading for pleasure was currently on hold as she had lessons to study, but there was immense comfort in the words of a book and unending aisles of knowledge tucked between pages.
Her eyes kept close watch on the clock. She knew when practice ended. She planned to find a very crowded space with lots of Gryffindors around. He would not tread where so many lions waited. That, she knew.
Of course, the only place that was full of Gryffindors that Draco could not enter was Gryffindor Tower. Harry would be there, though.
She grinded her teeth as she loaded her books into her bag. His behavior was even more despicable as it seemed to hardly matter that she was angry at him. Books were then slammed into her bookbag as an expression of frustration.
Bloody wizards!
If she had an ounce of intelligence she'd do away with the wizards altogether rather than be forced into her dormitory because of their idiocy.
Were her words audible? Was her mouth only an accessory for them to use for their own wills and not be acknowledged when it went against their wants?
Hermione passed by the others in the common room, Harry included, and went straight to her room. She heard the soft confusion of Ronald as she ascended the stairwell. A place he could not follow.
"Where's she going?" He questioned.
Why did Draco and Harry have to ruin everything?!
Drogon was the only one with whom she could stand the company of. Lucky he was the one she needed.
Her knapsack dropped to the floor. The slender tail twitched against the white animal. The grey eyes dipped low as he watched her feet slip from her shoes before she fell face first atop her perfectly made bedspread.
The cat waited a while. He was silent and still as she laid there, face in the darkness, frustrated to the point of tears and screams until one of them broke first. Drogon gently walked around the silhouette of her body. The dragging of his tail against her arm was the only indication he was there as he was silent and seemingly weightless.
An extended meow erupted from his mouth.
"I know I shouldn't care," she spoke against the blankets. Her voice was muffled.
"Meow," Drogon said again.
"No. Not until they really regret it. I won't give in."
His paws kneaded against her frizzed curls. Claws extended and retracted with the rocking motions of his arms.
She smiled at his cat-like attempt at comfort. It was the most feline behavior she'd seen him do.
Hermione Granger took a breath and received a renewed sense of strength against the wishes to go back to her friends. Her vengeful lioness was not satisfied just yet.
Draco, especially, deserved to suffer more.
"Drogon?" She hummed. His grey eyes appraised her face with curiosity. "Do you think you can deliver a note to a Slytherin?"
"What's with him?" He heard whispered around the room of the darkened common room. The green and black hues casted a darkness overtop of them, even as they read from their school books.
There was a flurry of hushed whispers, like the wind blowing. It all filled his ears with pressure. He felt it build the longer he stared at the fire, hand clenched on his chin as the warmth of the flames so near to his face did nothing to heat them.
It was too cold. The bitter fire of anger refused to radiate. Instead, it froze deeper through his guts into the deepest depths that were seldom touched. Numb descending cold.
"I hope it's the mudblood," Pansy snarled below her breath. Draco bristled beneath his skin. Apparently, she'd not been told that her whispering was still audible to the entire room. "I hope she's dead. You think she's dead?"
The black eyes of the one beside her raised from a Herbology book. Draco noticed raise of Blaise's head, felt his eyes, tensed at the audacity, but rather remained perched in front of the hearth, growing colder by the moment.
"No," Blaise answered back in his low grumbling tone. "She's not dead."
"She hasn't acknowledged him for days. You can see it in her dirty little eyes that she isn't afraid. Not of any of us. He just lets her leave, lets her do as she pleases."
The dark fingers stroked the spine of the book within his grasp. "You notice only Malfoy."
A sharp snort exhaled from her nose. "So?"
"You failed to notice the other thing of interest." The pages were flipped open once more. His eyes dipped down to his finger that marked the continuation of his reading. "He's not the only one she's avoided. There is another who has swung to the wayside of her temper. A fact more persuading than his rejection." He swallowed. The thick gulp audible swallow that sounded like an attraction than a polite clearing of the throat. "Why has Potter, too, been added to Granger's wrath?"
He hadn't the energy to scowl to the whisperings of the others for their indiscretion against him, their fabled prince, the one that made their knickers wet, and their eyes burn with envy. The thought to snap was there. He wanted to. He wanted to feel like he would. That couldn't be feigned. The regard for his peers was gone, at the wayside of attentions, just like Crabbe and Goyle's notice of anything non-consumable, like the cat that somehow eluded them their pursuit.
No. It was only coldness that held him now. Unshakeable ice.
Potter was just to blame as he was. Potter sought him out, not the other way round. But did that matter to her? No! The only bloody thing she worried about was whether her precious friend might be hurt. But him? Did she mind that he might have been injured?
Clearly not.
Granger. Hermione. The time she avoided him last was unbearable. He was hot with anger the entire time. Every time he saw her then he just wanted to show her just what she was denying because of her pride. Shag her right in front of them all to prove much better he was.
This was much different now.
A week was torture. He yearned for her every moment. His thoughts circled nothing but her. He worried about where she was, if she took care of herself. Was Weaselbee getting all her attention now that she was free for the taking? He couldn't stop himself. And her lips! Oh Salazar, how he wanted the kiss of her lips.
He wanted her, needed her. He could not stop.
The rising tide behind his eye filled within until it was nothing but a blurry mess of orange. Why won't this bleeding fire warm me?
He took a long sigh. It shot out of his nose. He felt the shimmy in his chest. A sob was unacceptable. Over Hermione Granger. He could not lose himself. No tears, no emotions, just pure carnal control. Every wizard's fantasy played that exact tune. He was living that dream for them to choke on.
It was easy for the dolts to fantasize about. He welcomed them a day in the life of the work that went into it. It was not just an easy life like he'd thought it would be. Granger did not just lay there and take it. She fought. Every second of every day, she fought him. He had to fight back. It was endless effort. Wizards tried their luck everyday. He had to beat them off with a bloody club to get them to understand. Higgs had taken a beating just to get the point. No. Best left for wizards like him, ones who knew how to commit to their fantasy.
He made that choice. He committed to Granger. They sealed it in the only way possible. Nothing would tear that apart. He made sure of it.
Nothing and no one could break them.
"Oi. Terry! Looks like you've got an admirer."
The common room was split with the attention of whom was as ridiculous to chase after a wizard for their affection. It was only when a chorus of 'aw' came from some of their pitiful lips that Draco cared to look.
Hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. A small white cat sat at the back of Terry's cloak, one claw latched into the black fabric. His eyes blew wide open.
Drogon.
Higgs knelt down. His fingers danced across the fabric to try to play with the animal. It, to Draco's satisfaction, did not engage.
"You're a wee little dove, aren't you?" The wizard cooed.
Then he dared raise his finger as an extension of friendship. A laugh nearly escaped from Draco's lips as he watched, ready to see Drogon's claws shred Higgs to strips. The bloody thing hated everyone. Especially wizards. Only a few times was Draco permitted a touch. A single touch.
Draco sat back, spine aligned with the back of the chair, spirits lifted from the melancholy. Here was Drogon now to carry a note of apology from Granger herself. A smile tickled the edges of his lips.
"Careful, mate. That cat don't like anybody," Crabbe suddenly grumbled. "Got a robe full of shredded sleeves to prove it."
Fucking Christ, Crabbe. The wizard ruined a good show before it even began.
"Nonsense. Look at that." The cat rubbed its head against Terrence Higgs palm like they were the best of friends. "Not got one nasty bone in it's body, do ya?"
A spell to the face would not have shocked Draco more.
His eyes went blurry all at once again. Heart pounded with frigid fury. Each beat was a painful thaw of iced organs as they tried to restart with life.
Just how familiar had Higgs gotten with Hermione under his nose? How often did that prat pet her cat? What the bloody hell was that blasted beast doing?
What the hell was she doing? She loved him. She loved Draco Malfoy. She said it herself. She was his, she promised. She gave her word!
"Look here. You've got a note," Higgs said. His face pulled to a rather curious expression as he pulled the envelope from the collar. His hands rubbed the soft white fur as the letter was wretched open. "Thanks for that. You're a good one. Head on. I won't keep you."
It was a lie to say Draco's chest inflated a little when Drogon traveled deeper within the Slytherin common room. He thought perhaps a note might be for him. A fleeting thought. A hope, perse.
Only to be crushed by the total avoidance of the animal completely. It walked by with its nose held high, a king's march upward to the girl dormitory staircase. Not to him. Not to Draco Malfoy, the one that bought the beast so that he might be able to connect with his witch any time he wanted. The person who cherished the witch who hated him so much for it. He thought of her while all she thought of us her stupid friends and justice and morals. Like that was a balcony to stand on!
He clenched his teeth as the pompous cat walked through ten minutes later with no other notes to deliver. A chance Slytherin happened to let the cat through the portal into the room. Happily, it bounced out of sight.
Next time he saw that cat, it was going back to the idiot who sold it to him.
The curfew came and went. The fire fell from hearty life to simmering heat. Studies stopped. Yawns and tired eyes filtered up to bed. Only a few young wizards continued on by candlelight as they scratched quills against the parchment in their laps.
Even they left eventually.
In the end, Draco was the only one left. On his own. Like always.
What was left to do but obsess about previous moments that he hated ever took place? How about when Higgs was given a letter from his pet's own familiar, a gift from him? Ha. That was something. Then there was the time when she ran away so she didn't have to talk to him. Classic. Of course, the kicker was the fact she said she'd never forgive him and left him in a constantly anxious state of pure madness with the need to know where she was which was impossible to riddle out because she avoided him so well.
Over and over, he remembered expressions as they crossed her beautiful face. The things he'd done to break her. How awful he was to the powerful exterior, and how even in that very moment, he wished to break and build her at the same time.
The stiff black leather at his back groaned as he pushed his weight further into the embrace. Each hand gripped the armrests, tense, taut.
The absence of Hermione left the peering black of what awaited him when he returned home. The bright red eyes, sickly hallow flesh, billowing black robes, the sound of snake scales as they slithered across the Manor's floor. The echoing of nails as they ran down the walls. A vivid haunting of the true demons that possessed them.
He knew the fear to be real. His own mother's hand practically bellowed it from the heights. Her letters grew more and more frantic about his association with someone like Hermione. The expressed disappointment in his choice washed over his flesh like waves of the Black Lake when he went for a swim with Hermione for the first time. Even then, it hadn't mattered. Nothing sank below. Except her. The rippling of her kinky hair as it moved through water, the visible beating of her heart at the center of her chest, the way her lips quivered on the edge of release.
Brown eyes. Their delectable shade of chocolate, cinnamon, warmth, amber whiskey, wood that filled his lungs with fire. He loved the watch them as they worked, but it was insignificant to the comparison of what it felt like to be adored by those eyes. Trusted by them.
That tasty sip of her hadn't been like whiskey, no. It was that of a love potion. The high of that delirium was all he searched for. Love like a flood spilled through him as if his skin was invisible. She reached the depths that had been seldom reached and pulled them deeper away from everything else.
It would not stop him now. Not his mother's disproval, or his father's pleads. He was too far deep to let her go, for it was too late now.
That was the bitterest taste of all. In the end, she would not love him for what he would do to ensure her survival. Nor would forgiveness come. If they survived the ending.
Draco lost all sense of time. He sat in that common room, unmoved, staring into an empty hearth that had long since diminished to ash. The chill of the icy waters of the Black Lake leeched through the glass of the windows. Constant thrumming of the water as it lapped against the panes kept him stuck in memory.
Color began to show through the dark. Soft morning light split through the waves like a dazzling glow of a moon through the black night.
The first sounds of the others as they awakened for the day fell to his deaf ears. Their soft thumps as they readied so as to not wake their dorm mates were too subtle for his notice. The sounds of his thoughts screamed over it all.
It wasn't until something touched his arm that he was pulled from the daze.
"What?" He snapped, startled and aware that he was no longer alone.
"I said, are you alright?"
A face with large black frame glasses appeared. The long flat locks of blonde hairs hanged past her shoulders and the assortment of mismatched necklaces laid at her throat.
"I'm fine." He bristled as he raised from his seat, wincing at the pain in his back as he did so.
"Were you out here all night?" Daphne asked. Her hands crossed her chest.
"Does it matter?"
"Yes." She answered in a soft hum. "It does."
He extended and bent his fingers. Their motions were stiff and ached. Hours of them clenched against something had made them useless.
"Perfect," he mumbled.
Charms class was all fingers. Of course, he had it first thing in the morning.
He'd thought that his disregard of her presence would encourage her to leave him alone. That's all he wanted. The questions, the pathetic concern for him, the whispers. It all needed silenced. Draco did not need the pity of those of lesser status. He was the prince of Slytherin, the sole heir to the Malfoy and Black family lines. To pity a wizard like him was to pity every single other person because they had so little compared to him.
"Thank you," her lips suddenly exhaled.
He went rigid. "Pardon?"
"Thank you for not carrying on and lying to my sister. That was kind of you."
"Oh." He'd never been thanked before. Not like that. Words failed to come to mind. He ran fingers through his hair hoping the sensations might awakened some conscious thought.
"You shouldn't carry on with someone unless it's because you love them," she said. Then she cleared her throat. "I know you didn't do it for me, but I still appreciate it the same."
He nodded. "Yes, well… you're welcome."
Her brows fell suspiciously low. Arms dropped to her sides. "It's worse than I thought," she murmured.
"What did you say?" He snapped.
Daphne dug around within the folds of her robes, reaching into the various pockets until she found the thing she'd been searching for. A pale envelope with a broken seal came into light. Her black painted nails tapped against it.
"I wasn't going to tell you," she started, "but it seems like you should know."
His forehead crinkled as he beheld the letter in his hands.
Her feet slowly shuffled away. "Keep it. I remember what it says."
Daphne,
If there was a way to change the past, change what I said, I would. I shouldn't have ever tried to hurt you because I was upset. I realize that I was wrong to be angry at you when it was Draco who put you in the position in the first place. I of all people should have realized how he controls those around him. It's like a compulsion. He can't help himself. And I can't help but feel like all along I've been a ploy to get to Harry. I can't riddle it out inside my head, and Godric knows I have all this time to think from loneliness. Have you seen how I run in the corridors like a manwoman? It's honestly pathetic how much I have to avoid my two seemingly best friends because of their disregard of who I am.
Perhaps it was a sign. Do you think so? That this world is not the place where I belong. My parents have asked me to move to Australia with them. The Ministry would take away my memories and I'd lose all my friends, including you, Daph. I'd be so sorry for that to happen. It is becoming increasingly clear that those around me don't respect me enough, so what is the point of even being here?
Harry never listens to my advice. Draco lies. They give me attention to spite the other. I'm their toy. Only used to make the other one jealous. I'm sick of being pulled apart from the middle. I think it might be for the best to go home.
Love, your friend, Hermione.
