CHAPTER 27
The two days until the weekend flew by. Draco had actually 'trained' with Ginny Friday morning – meaning he watched and she flew. In DADA, they had started to repeat everything from their first year onwards, nothing spectacular yet.
But Draco was exhausted. He hadn't been able to sleep for more than an hour the last night and the big, empty weekend was looming over him like a dark cloud. His homework was partly done already because he could use last year's notes, and he feared the inactivity. He couldn't stay holed up in the Common Room forever; however, on the weekend much more students would be about outside. It felt like he was presenting himself as prey if he dared to go to the lake. Hermione wouldn't even be there the whole time since she had an appointment with her healer.
To distract himself, Draco grabbed his notes for wandless magic, the book he was reading, and a torch Hermione had lent him and closed the curtains around his four-poster bed. He couldn't stay like this for a long time. After an hour or so, the claustrophobia would take over, but it was still more comfortable than the Common Room.
He hadn't read for long, though, when one of the curtains was ripped open and Theo stared at him with an unreadable expression.
"Am I keeping you awake?" Draco asked quietly. "Sorry."
Theo shook his head. "That's not it. I just …" He opened his palms and revealed a large phial with a characteristic pink colour – Dreamless Sleep Potion. "I made some for you, Tracey, and Hermione."
Draco stared at the Slytherin, agape. "Thank you, but … but I shouldn't…"
"I'm good at potions. It won't interact with the Pain Potion you're taking," he said almost softly, still offering the phial.
Tentatively, Draco took it and stared at it for a second. "Still. I can't get addicted to another …" He interrupted himself although he knew Theo was aware of his painkiller addiction.
"Then only take it in emergencies," Theo murmured, his face returning to an unreadable mask. "But you need sleep. Tonight. You looked ready to collapse the whole day."
Draco gritted his teeth. He had known Theo was perceptive, but he hadn't expected him to say something or interfere. "Fine," he snarled and put the books to the floor. Switching of the torch, he closed the curtains in front of the other Slytherin and cuddled into the pillow. Then he stared at the phial in his hand, arguing with himself whether to take it or not.
Doing that, he must have fallen asleep because his eyes suddenly flew open when he heard a low splintering sound followed by a muffled thud. At once, Draco opened his curtains, scanning the room thoroughly. Nobody was there who wasn't supposed to be. He met Theo's opened eyes for a second – he must have a lighter sleep than he pretended to have – but quickly averted his gaze and untangled himself from the bed sheets. When Draco looked back at the other Slytherin, he had closed his eyes again.
Silently, Draco grabbed his wand – feeling safer with it – and left the dorm. The intense smell of spilled cocoa and strangled sobbing greeted him in the Common Room, and he needed a second to locate its origin. Hermione sat under the window-sill, her hands covering her face. Her wheelchair stood just out of her reach.
"Hermione?" he asked, rushing at her side. "Are you hurt?"
"No," she choked out and threw her arms around him.
Carefully, he lifted her up and put her down on the sofa. But she clung onto him so tightly he had to sit down with her.
"What's wrong, love?" he whispered and wiped her tears away. New ones took their place instantly.
"I-I just … it's s-s-so stupid," Hermione sobbed and buried her face into his pyjama.
Reassuringly, he rubbed her back. "It's okay. Just tell me."
She buried her head deeper into his shirt, so he could barely hear her answer. "I-I couldn't sleep, so I asked the elves for some hot chocolate. I wanted to sit at the window-sill like I used to … bu-but I spilled the hot chocolate… because of my stupid, clumsy legs. I got such a fright from the sound, I somehow let my wand fall to the floor, and automatically I bend down to reach it …" She sniffled a little. "I lost my balance and … I-I just forgot I couldn't … I …"
"It's okay," Draco whispered. So he had heard the cup splintering and her fall to the floor. "You haven't hurt yourself, have you?"
She made a negative sound and moved her head against his shoulder. A headshake, he realised.
"Good. Let me look for your wand and clean that up quickly, okay?"
Instantly, her fingers tightened around him. "No. Don't go." Her voice was nearly begging him and he had to obey.
"O-okay. Okay I stay. Just … breathe, okay?" he said awkwardly.
Hermione took in a loud breath and then exhaled slowly. After a few controlled breaths, her sobs died down and her fingers loosened a little.
"Better?" he whispered and nudged her gently.
Finally, she looked up. "I'm okay." Draco could read the lie in her eyes, could see how much effort it took her to regain her composure. "Can you get my wand?"
Draco nodded and stood up. He needed a while to find it and then clean up the mess she had created without wand. He wasn't used to doing things manually.
Finally, he sat back down on the sofa with her. Hermione instantly cuddled into him and draped a thick blanket over both of their bodies. He could see her chest heave in an effort to suppress more sobs and knew she wasn't okay yet.
"The problem's not the spilled cocoa, is it?" he whispered and tightened his arms around her.
She shook her head, her lips pressed tightly together.
"What is it then?"
She opened her mouth, but, instead of word, a stifled sob escaped her lips. At once, she turned her face away from him, but he could still see fresh tears glistening on her cheeks.
"Hermione?" he asked alarmed.
She didn't answer, just shook violently from silent sobs.
"Let go," he murmured and reached for her cheek to wipe the tears away. "It's okay. I'm here. I catch you. Just let go."
Hermione looked at him, and he didn't know what she saw, but she listened. All the pent-in sadness, and tears, and sobs broke out of her, and this time, she didn't stop them.
He just let her cry until her sobs died down. Crying helped sometimes and it helped her. When she finally looked up, her breathing nearly even again, the deep desperation in her eyes was gone.
"Can you tell me about it now?" he asked quietly.
She rubbed her red eyes to clear away the last traces of tears. "I … I don't want to hurt you."
"Why would it hurt me?" he asked cautiously.
She sighed in response and looked into the dying fire. "Because it'll make you feel guilty and I don't want that. It's better now. I'm okay."
"No." He jerkily shook his head. "We promised to tell each other things. Tell me."
She sighed again, giving in. Her eyes stayed fixed on the pulsating embers when she spoke. "It's my birthday today." He stiffened, but before he could apologise for not knowing, she continued. "It's my birthday and my parents don't even know about it. I can't write them or call them because they've forgotten me. I can't even reverse the effect now because I'd need to travel to Australia and I can't leave you –"
"But –"
She interrupted him. "Also, I don't want them to see me like this." She pointed at her legs and gritted her teeth. "So, all I'll do for my birthday is visiting the healer and tell him, yes, I did the exercises the physiotherapist had shown me every day, withholding the fact I actually do them three times a day and it still doesn't get better. I'll make a brave face and smile as if I don't care about it." Hermione shook her head and her curls whipped through the air. "I hate it, Draco. I know I seem like I don't mind and I want everyone to think that, but … but I hate being chained to this chair."
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
She ignored him. "I just miss them so much. That's all. I want my mum to tell me I'll be fine so that, for a second, I could believe it. I want my dad to hug me as if he could protect me from the whole world." Her voice broke. "I don't know how Susan survives. I couldn't. At least, I know they're alive and well, even if I'm not with them."
Draco silently hugged her tighter, and she nodded thankfully.
"And … I know it's utterly stupid, but …but I miss Harry and Ron." She looked cautiously at him, but his face gave nothing away. "They wanted to come to Hogsmeade and I told them to not be daft, I'd just seen them four days ago… but …"
"… but you miss them anyway," he continued her sentence and she nodded. He wasn't jealous. He understood she missed them for different reasons than she would miss him. They were her home also. There had never been a minute in all her years in Hogwarts where Hermione had been without them, and now she felt lost.
"We'll write them," he added. "Let's meet up in the afternoon and do something fun. You deserve to have some fun."
A ghost of a smile flickered across her face. "Do Slytherins know how to have fun?"
"Oh yes, glittering parties lasting the whole night." He nuzzled his face into her neck. "Happy birthday, Hermione."
"Thank you," she breathed. "Fun sounds good."
"Is there anything you want, anything you'd wish for?"
She turned to him. "You mean I can wish for something from you? As a birthday gift?"
He nodded. "Anything." He still had more than enough galleons to buy her a house and not a small one either.
Hermione's eyes glittered mischievously when she answered him. "I want … a kiss."
Suddenly, Draco's mouth went dry. "Oh." He had hoped for something less… physical.
She pulled her mouth into a pout. "Come on, Draco. It's my birthday." She turned her head and leaned forward, so he only had a few inches to bridge. Her face seemed to glow in the orange light of the fire, and he didn't care that her eyes were red from crying or her face was blotchy – to him she was beautiful and he wanted nothing more than to accommodate her, to kiss her senseless. The way her lips called to him seemed like magnetism.
Quickly, Draco looked back into her eyes, but she still had the same expectant determination in them.
"O-okay," he mouthed, his voice too weak to speak. With one hand he framed her face, the other trailed along her arm to intertwine their hands. Then, very slowly, savouring the tension between them, he leaned forward and touched her lips with his. He had intended for it to be a light kiss, but her reaction took him by surprise.
Hermione seemed to moan deep in her throat and hungrily returned the kiss with so much passion that he couldn't help responding. The hand that had cupped her cheek travelled into her hair, and he opened his mouth to deepen the kiss. As inexperienced as he was with relationships, kissing he knew. Pansy had taught him a thing or two.
Finally, Hermione broke away, and he froze. Had he gone too far? Was it too much? She smiled at him as if the kiss had blown all of her worries away.
"I'm better now," she grinned, and it made his heart light. He had made her smile. Even if he had accomplished nothing else in his life, that would be something he could do, and it would always fulfil him. Through her, he would know what happiness felt like.***
Hermione leaned forward and pushed blond bangs out of his face. "You need a haircut."
"Tomorrow," Draco promised. "Now we should sleep."
As answer, she snuggled back into the pillow so that he could lay down behind her.
Maybe it was the kiss or her presence, but Draco felt so comfortable and relaxed he fell asleep only seconds later.
Draco awoke slowly, relishing in the feeling of waking up without a nightmare. Pale morning light illuminated the Common Room and painted highlights of honey and caramel into Hermione's hair.
For a minute, he just lay there and watched her, not stopping the smile that crept onto his face. Then he yawned and glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. His eyes widened in surprise – seven o'clock already. He hadn't slept that long even in Malfoy Manor.
A bit stiff, he climbed over the back of the sofa and stretched. He felt … rested. More rested than he could remember being. Glancing back at the peacefully sleeping girl, Draco made a decision. He would make this day special for her, he would make her forget all the bad things. Quickly, he grabbed some parchment that was lying around and drafted a letter to Harry. Then he went to his room to change into the pants and trainers he used to wear for Quidditch, grabbed his broom and the invisibility cloak, and made his way to the Owlery and then to the Quidditch pitch. He wasn't sure Ginny would come – it was Saturday after all – but he reckoned she couldn't go through a day without training. But she wasn't there yet. Draco took a deep breath, put his broom down and began to jog around the field to warm up, like he had seen Ginny doing, however a quarter of the pace she had run. After one lap, he was already out of breath, but he forced himself to run another one before he slowed to a walk.
This night had changed something. It had shown Draco he needed to be stronger. He couldn't put all his weight on Hermione and expect her to carry it; he had to show her that he was capable of being independent, of surviving a month – or however long it took to find her parents – without her. Of course, he would go with her in a flash, but he was still in the clutches of the Ministry and wouldn't be able to leave the country anytime soon. So, this was his only option.
Wandless magic needed time – time he didn't have – that meant becoming physically stronger was not only his only option, but – looking on the bright side of it – also his best option. Besides, it might help him obtaining the discipline and strength he needed for the other task. Draco needed to be able to defend himself without relying on her. He couldn't put that burden on her. He knew something would happen sooner or later – conflict already smouldered beneath the surface of Hogwarts everyday life. He had to be ready.
After a short walk, he fell into a slow trot again. Slate-coloured clouds gathered above him, threatening rain, and cold autumn wind blew over the field. Having completed two laps, he fell to the ground, gasping. His muscles already ached uncomfortably and the air burned in his lungs. He couldn't believe how weak he'd become. Only two years ago, he'd have run twice as much without difficulties. But that had been before the war. Now, he was in his eighth year, and everything was different.
Draco watched the clouds until his breathing had slowed. Then he stood up and grabbed his broom, his fingers tracing the familiar angles and lines. His thumb lingered next to the silver letters of his Nimbus 2001 for a second, brushing over a scratch that the broom had suffered in his first game.
Should he try it? Or should he wait for Ginny? But what if she didn't show up? Hermione might already be awake and he needed to do that before he came back to her.
It was maybe a little too windy, a little too cold, for a casual flight, Draco told himself. But he needed to do something brave, to challenge himself – in baby steps, though. So, flying would be enough for the beginning. Then he'd know if he could face scarier things than his childhood obsessions.
Taking a deep breath, he climbed onto his broom and pushed. In slow circles, he ascended to the morning sky until the Quidditch pitch was in miniature below. Ginny had been right. Everything looked easier from above, manageable.
The air was fresh and cooled his heated face. He leaned forward and let the broom dive, the ground rushing at him like in a free fall. But suddenly, a harsh gust of wind hit him and the broom swung sideways, but Draco reacted without thinking and quickly controlled the broom. It only took a small command for his broom to return to a horizontal position. Suddenly, Draco realised he could still do it – fly. He hadn't forgotten anything, and the broom still obeyed even minimal commands. He also realised that flying had never had anything to do with his father's wishes. Quidditch, maybe. But flying itself was freedom – just as Ginny had said.
Draco sped up and zoomed over the Quidditch pitch like he used to do, relishing in the air blowing his hair out of his face, marvelling at the speed his broom was capable of achieving.
He had been so captivated by the new and yet familiar sensation, he didn't notice the two figures that had approached the pitch, two beater's bats and a set of Bludgers in hand, until it was too late.
Draco stopped in mid-air and goggled at them. His stuff – except the invisibility cloak – still lay on the ground. Should he get it or disappear quietly? He decided to face the situation and landed casually.
"Training for the team?" one of them called over to him, and Draco recognised both of them as the beaters that had played in the Ravenclaw team the last two years.
He ignored them deliberately and hastily gathered his things.
"Hey, we're talking to you, Malfoy," the other one called. Draco saw them exchanging glances and knew he was in trouble. Last year's games hadn't been pretty. If he remembered correctly, Goyle had broken one of the boy's arms with a Bludger during the game, and nobody had called a foul.
"I'm not playing," he said quickly and began walking towards the exit.
A loud swishing sound warned him, and he let himself fall to the ground just in time. A bludger swooshed over him. Turning, he struggled to his feet.
"Are you mad?" Draco snarled, but the boys just laughed.
"Scared of a little Bludger?" sneered the one whose arm had been broken. Rogers or something like that. No - Roach, it was.
Draco shrugged stiffly, climbed onto his broom, and pushed himself into the air. This way he'd be faster. A second later, however, he realised his mistake. The two beaters also mounted their brooms and took to the sky, bats at ready.
Automatically, Draco leaned forward, pushing his broom to its top speed. The fierce wind cut through him, and he felt as though he had hit a wall of air. His heart beat loud in his chest with panic. They were the hunters, and he was the prey. Although Draco's Nimbus 2001 was one of the fastest brooms, the Bludger was still faster. It came in a curve from behind, aiming at his body. In the last second, Draco pulled his broom up, but the Bludger still found a way to hit his right knee.
Something cracked.
Hot pain shot through Draco and he bent forward, a muffled scream on his lips. His broom reacted to his involuntary command and dove. Desperately trying to suppress the pain, Draco struggled to control his broom. A strong gust of wind, though, sent him spiralling downwards. As if the Bludger had been spelled, it zoomed back towards Draco, gaining momentum. He saw it from the corner of his eye, and the only thing he could do to protect himself, was using his arms. Reflexively, his hands shot up to cover his face, forgetting to grip the broom. The Bludger collided with his body, catapulting him from his broom.
For a long second, Draco fell; then all air was pushed out of his lungs when he crashed to the ground. Luckily, the fall wasn't deep, but deep enough to hurt like hell. Draco groaned and tried to focus on the blurry figures above him.
"Not so strong without your Death Eater buddies, hm Malfoy?" he heard one of them laugh. The storm played with his blue Quidditch cape, making him seem even more threatening, standing over Draco.
"Do you think that'd count as a foul?" the other one smirked smugly. "I don't think so."
Draco groaned again and rolled to his side. The invisibility cloak had cushioned his fall and no ribs seemed to be broken. His whole body felt as though it was covered by bruises, and his knee stood in flames.
"Bastard," Draco muttered under his breath and had to fight the urge to reach for his wand. It would do him no good to start a fight now, even if it was self-defence. It would only get him expelled or thrown into Azkaban.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" an angry female voice suddenly shrieked, and Draco's head snapped up. He saw flaming red hair and an outstretched wand.
"Nothing," Roach answered nonchalantly, smirking at the approaching Gryffindor.
"We're training for the try outs," the other one supplied innocently.
"Oh, the season's over for you two. I'll talk to your captain and make sure he won't let you play. He doesn't need bullies in his team," Ginny snarled, stepping between the Ravenclaws and Draco.
"You can't do that. We didn't do anything!" Draco heard them protest as he sat up.
"Just let it go," he whispered to Ginny, trying to stand, but his knee gave out and he fell awkwardly to the ground.
The Ravenclaw beaters broke into a laugh full of malicious joy, but abruptly, it stopped. Draco glanced up and saw gigantic bats surrounding their heads. Bat-Bogey Hex, he realised.
Smiling grimly, Ginny offered him her hand. "Let's get you to the hospital."
"I'm okay," he panted, but accepted Ginny's hand. "Thanks," he choked out, suppressing a whimper when he put weight on his right knee.***
He managed to hobble a few steps before he broke down in the grass. Memories attacked him with a ferocity he hadn't thought them capable of after his peaceful night.
"Draco?" Ginny asked alarmed, but he could only roll into a ball and suppress moans of pain. The memories he couldn't suppress, they went on a rampage in his head and forced him to relive every single painful minute after his knee had been shattered in Azkaban.
"Pain … k-killer," he finally managed to choke out, and he didn't know how Ginny managed to do it, but a heartbeat later she shoved the potion into his hands. Thirstily, he gulped it down as if it was water in a desert. His eyes closed, he waited with bated breath, until it took effect.
Finally, Ginny's voice got through to him. "Draco? Draco, can you hear me? Say something! Hey! Are you okay?"
Draco lifted his head and stared blankly into her eyes. "Yeah. Good."
She rolled her eyes, grabbed his hand, and pulled him up. "Let me look at that knee," she murmured and nearly dragged him to the changing rooms.
"I'm okay," he panted after he had sat down on one of the benches.
"Liar," she hissed. "I saw them hit you with the Bludger, and I saw you fall."
"It's nothing. I …" He faltered under her hard gaze.
"A thank you would be nice, you know. After all, I just saved you," Ginny smirked.
"Bloody meddling women," Draco muttered under his breath, but then said loudly, "Thank you. At least, I listened to you and went flying," he tried to joke, but instantly her face fell.
"I'm sorry. I'll go to Flitwick – I …"
"It's fine, Ginny. I deserved that," he said tiredly and rolled up the leg of his trousers so she could have a look at the knee. He knew she wouldn't let it pass anyway.
The redhead gritted her teeth but stayed silent. Her hard, blazing look told him everything. She didn't agree with his words. Then she let her gaze wander to his knee and it suddenly turned distressed but with a gleam of anger. Draco followed her gaze and gasped.
His knee was swollen again and had taken an unhealthy purple colour. He swallowed loudly. "I don't suppose Episkey …"
Instantly, Ginny lifted her wand. "Episkey."
Nothing changed. That meant Madam Pomfrey. Damn! "I'm okay," Draco repeated mechanically. "It might heal on its own accord."
"Rubbish," the other witch murmured, kneeling down to touch his knee gently."This looks bad, really bad." He gasped when her cool fingers brushed over the bruise where the Bludger had first connected with his knee.
Jerkily, Ginny stood up. "What about your ribs?"
Draco sighed. "Not broken. I'm really okay. I just needed some painkillers."
Ginny shot him a stern look. "Take off your bloody shirt, Malfoy."
He stared at her, unmoving. Did she mean that?
"Do I need to force you?" she said, lifting her wand.
"Since when are you a healer?" Draco retorted, but she silenced him with a glare. Cursing, he pulled the t-shirt over his head.
An involuntary gasp escaped Ginny's lips, looking at his bare chest, and she reached for his shoulder.
Suddenly, a bright flash illuminated the room and both students jumped, but then gathered their wits and drew their wands. But when the smoke had vanished and their eyes had adjusted to the semi-darkness of the changing rooms, no threat stood in front of them. Well, not a physical threat.
Rita Skeeter plus photographer peaked into the room, smiling from ear to ear.
"What are you doing here?" Ginny exploded.
"Miss Weasley, how lovely to see you. Am I interrupting something? A little rendezvous in the changing room maybe?" The reporter entered completely and shortly wrinkled her nose because of the smell. "Is that how you repay Mr. Potter's trust, Mr. Malfoy? Stealing his girlfriend?"
In jerky movements, Draco put his shirt back on and glared at her.
"Don't you dare to print that!" Ginny threatened. "You're not even allowed to be in here."
"Oh, I was invited by the headmistress to write a little piece about the reopened, Death-Eater-free school." Skeeter smiled predatorily. "But this is much better! Girlfriend cheats on war hero with former Death Eater." The look on her face told them she was already picturing the headlines.
"Out!" Ginny bellowed and pointed her wand at the blonde witch, who only smiled patronisingly.
"Are you threatening me, little girl? I'm unimpressed."
Draco stood up. "Well, you should be. By any chance, did you see the guys that were chased by gigantic bogey bats?" He tilted his head and watched her. A muscle in her cheek twitched and confirmed his suspicion. The Ravenclaws had pointed the reporter to them. "That was her," he added coldly.
Skeeter glanced at Ginny, who still aimed her wand at the blonde woman, flinched, and then said, "I think we have everything here, Marc."
With that, the two disappeared into the streaming daylight.
Draco groaned and sat back down on the bench. "Fuck."
Ginny still shook with anger. "I – I'll write Harry and… and he'll … he'll stop her!" she sputtered, her fists clenched.
"Better tell him to not read the Prophet tomorrow," Draco whispered dejectedly. He didn't think there was anything they could do.
Suddenly, Ginny went very still. "I'm sorry, Draco."
Surprised, he looked up and noticed that her eyes were too bright and her lips were tightly pressed together, but no longer in anger.
"Ah, don't worry about me," he said, trying to smile. "I've survived worse. Worry about your image and about Harry. The press will rip you both apart."
"I don't care," Ginny whispered. "Harry's not stupid enough to believe anything Skeeter writes. Still…" Her fists clenched again. "I'll stop her."
"Just help me back to the castle, yeah?"
She nodded and together they hobbled up the hill into the castle. Actually, he had wanted to sneak into the Common Room, but Ginny dragged him up to the hospital wing.
"Quidditch accident," he murmured when Madam Pomfrey looked questioningly at him, and kept silent about his other injuries.
The nurse rubbed something on his knee, murmured an incantation, and told him to cool it and not use it for the next day or two; that was it. Draco nodded and walked with a barely noticeable limp down the stairs.
"Thanks," he said to Ginny, who promptly disappeared into the Great Hall for breakfast. It was nine already. Draco, however, needed a shower first. Under the cloak, he crept to the southern side of the building, carefully avoiding other students, and jumped into the shower at once.
The warm water helped a bit, but he already craved a new pain potion. At least, Madam Pomfrey had restocked his supply.
Only with a towel around his hips, he went back to the bedroom and froze when he saw Theo standing there. The dorm had been empty before. Draco had thought everyone was down for breakfast.
The other boy gasped when he saw Draco's torso, and, this time, Draco knew why. He had checked himself in the mirror. Normally, he avoided doing that because the ghostly image of his thin figure always guilt-tripped him into eating something, but he needed to know what Ginny had seen. Dark bruises bloomed over his right ribcage, emphasising the fact that you could still count them easily. They trailed from his chest over his right shoulder and ended in small, purple spots on his wrist, where he had landed on the harsh earth. On his left side, a nearly black shadow seemed to be painted on his upper arm where the Bludger had made first contact.
"Who?" Theo asked so icily Draco shuddered.
"Nobody. Quidditch," Draco lied and quickly put a long sleeved shirt on to hide his bruised body.
Theo, however, didn't believe a word he'd said. "Who?" the Slytherin repeated, and Draco could see that he was shaking with anger.
"Just forget it, mate," he sighed, trying to discreetly cover his hurt knee with the towel. But instantly his friend's gaze travelled down and fixed on the only partly covered, swollen knee. Then he turned around and punched one of bed posters with full force.
"Theo!" Draco exclaimed and reached for his friend's wrist. "Don't."
Theo flinched back from the touch and let his mask flow over his face. Only his heavy breathing betrayed his anger. "You can't let people get away with … that." His blue eyes flashed. "Tell me what happened. I'm your friend."
Draco stepped back and continued to change his clothes. "I didn't know you cared. I didn't know we were still friends." When he had put his trousers on, he turned to the Slytherin. Theo's fists still shook with suppressed rage, but his face was relaxed. The perfect mask. But Draco could see that his comment had hurt him. So he said, "I went flying and the two beaters from Ravenclaw aimed a Bludger at me. I fell from the broom." He tried to sound casual, but it was still starkly obvious that it hadn't been an accident but intent.
"Holmes?" Theo asked in a strained voice.
"And Roach," Draco nodded.
"Okay," Theo merely replied, turning to leave the room.
"Wait!" Draco called after him. "Don't do anything stupid on my behalf." But Theo just left without indicating that he had heard Draco.
After drinking another potion, Draco went to the Great Hall for a late breakfast. Hermione was already there, sitting at the nearly deserted Gryffindor table with Luna and Ginny.
"Hi, love," he whispered and her face instantly lit up.
"Draco," she smiled.
Ginny raised a questioning eyebrow, but he ignored her and started to pile porridge on his plate. He was terribly hungry. He could feel Hermione's gaze on him while he shoved the food into his mouth and tried to slow down, but he couldn't. He almost ate as hastily as Dean, who always appeared as if he was eating his first and last meal for days.
"Are you okay?" Hermione asked tentatively.
"Went flying," he mumbled and took a sip of the pumpkin juice.
Hermione looked at Ginny for confirmation, and when the girl nodded, she beamed at Draco. "That's great."
He nodded, avoiding her eyes. He didn't feel like telling her about the incident yet. Ginny, however, had other plans. "I've written Harry," she said pointedly.
"Hm," Draco mumbled.
"And I might have placed a Confundus charm on the Skeeter cow. She walked against the door frame twice." Ginny smiled smugly at him.
Against his will, a content smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "I hope it hurt."
"Wait – Rita Skeeter?" Hermione interjected and Draco stiffened. He had walked right into Ginny's trap.
"Um…" he murmured eloquently.
Ginny helped out quickly. "The bitch took a photo of us in the changing rooms. If Harry can't stop her – don't read the Prophet tomorrow."
"In the changing rooms?" Luna asked curiously. "I bet it makes you look like you were making out."
Draco nearly spit his pumpkin juice over the table and started to cough heavily. Hermione gave him an irritated look and stared at Ginny. "What's she saying?"
Ginny sighed and looked down at the table, scared to meet the other girl's eye. "Actually, Luna's right. Draco wasn't wearing his shirt, and I was reaching for him … it might suggest something that isn't there."
"But nothing happened!" Draco added quickly.
To his surprise, Hermione started laughing. "That's – haha – the best – ha –the best story I heard for ages. You – haha – you and Gin – hahaha."
"So you believe us?" Draco asked cautiously.
Hermione shook her head, a smile still on her lips. "Merlin, Draco. It took you my birthday wish to kiss me, and I'm to believe you made out with Ginny just hours later? That's ridiculous."
He sighed in relief, ignoring the reactions of the other people within earshot about their kissing revelation.
"So, the question is what can we do to stop that ludicrous rumour or even better prevent the story from being printed?" Hermione pondered out loud. "If Harry visits Skeeter, he should take some Mason jars with him."
Draco gave her a quizzical look, but she didn't react. She didn't even seem as angry as he would have expected her to be.
"Stop!" Ginny said suddenly. "Can we go back to the kissing part?" She waved her hands between them. "So, it's official now?"
Hermione nodded absent-mindedly. "Not that you didn't know before. But what's more important now –"
She was interrupted by Ginny who squealed at her, "But that's great! We can go on double dates."
Hermione gave Ginny a stern look. "How can you focus on that right now if there are more important things to think off?"
"Oh, I think love's important enough," Luna said and took a sip from her tea.
"I agree," Ginny smiled. "It's nice to think of something pleasant now and then."
Draco shifted uncomfortably. He had noticed how the voices of the Gryffindor sixth and seventh years had died down and they had begun to listen intently on their conversation. And with the glares they shot him, they weren't too happy about what they were hearing.
Before he could change the topic, however, Luna said, "Looks like Ravenclaw's going to lose in Quidditch again. Is that why you talked to our captain earlier, Ginny?"
Draco looked up and saw a dark-skinned boy – Ravenclaw's captain – gesticulating at Roach and Holmes, who looked like they had a fight. Holmes bled from a split lip and Roach tried to hide a black eye. His voice, however, was too low to reach them.
Ginny smiled smugly, like a cat that had eaten all the cream. "I just told him that his beaters are unfit to play, as you can see." She glanced at Draco, who was searching the Great Hall for Theo.
He found him nonchalantly slipping into the room, openly meeting Draco's gaze. And just like that, Draco knew.
"Excuse me," he whispered and stood up to walk over to the Slytherin table. He intercepted Theo before he could sit down. "What did you do?"
Theo stuffed his hands into his pockets to hide the small scrapes on his knuckle, but Draco had already spotted them. "They deserved it."
"You could have gotten into trouble," Draco murmured lowly.
Theo shrugged. "Forget it." With that he sat down at the far end of the table, ignoring Draco.
Draco sighed and walked past the boy back to his Gryffindor friends. He also might have muttered thank you in passing.
Hermione looked critically at him. "What was that about?"
He shrugged noncommittally. "Nothing. Aren't you late for your appointment?"
Hermione squinted at her watch and took in a panicked breath. "Merlin, you're right. And I wanted to finish that essay on the legitimacy of using Dementors in Azkaban before leaving." She quickly rolled out from under the table. "See you later, guys." With that she dashed out of the Great Hall and Draco took in a relieved breath. He really didn't feel like explaining the beater's attack to her.
Ginny watched him quietly, but didn't say anything until he stood up. "Where are you going?"
He smiled crookedly at her. "I don't need a watch dog, Ginny. I'm fine. I'm going to prepare something for Hermione."
"And your essays?" she asked sceptically and followed him along the Gryffindor table.
"Done. You know I don't sleep."
She shot him an unreadable look. "Well, we're in the library if you need us."
Draco nodded and watched the two girls rounding the corner. After he had checked his surroundings, he threw the invisibility cloak over his head and limped up the stairs to the Room of Requirement.
"Why are you so giddy?" Hermione asked when they walked – or floated, respectively – down to Hogsmeade.
"I'm just happy to get out of the castle," Draco answered. It was the truth. He couldn't wait for the shadows of the castle to disappear behind the mountains. But it wasn't the whole truth. He had organised for Harry and Ron to meet them at two at the Three Broomsticks.
"Me too," Hermione said barely audible. He knew that was something she barely wanted to admit to herself.
They walked the rest of the way in comfortable silence. Draco didn't dare to ask about her healer's appointment. He knew if there was something to say, she would tell him.
Although Draco was taller, Hermione saw the two boys, standing in the shadow of the three-story café, first. "Ohmygod," she choked out and looked at Draco. "Did you…?"
Smiling, he nodded at her.
"Thank you," she said, beaming, and he could see on her face how much she wanted to stand up and run to her friends. Instead, she started to race at breakneck speed through the crowd. A young witch even had to jump out of the way to not be hit by the wheelchair. Draco followed her, smiling to himself, and watched how she hugged her friends.
He was very careful to not show the slightest limp. He had actually taken another painkiller before leaving and felt like he was walking three feet under water. His body was comfortably numb, but he also had to concentrate harder to understand the slightly muffled voices.
Harry led them to a table at the end of the garden, a bit hidden from the view of the other guests. Draco thankfully took his seat next to the large lilac and waited for Harry to get some Butterbeer.
When Harry returned, Ron took out a small envelope from his jacket and handed it to Hermione. "Happy birthday, Mione. It's from Harry, Mum, Dad, and me."
Gingerly, Hermione took it and stared at it for a second before she opened it. She took out three small pieces of paper and gasped, almost letting them slip through her fingers. "But … but how …?" she asked and looked up.
"I'm Harry Potter," Harry stated dryly.
Draco twisted his neck to be able to read the inscription. As far as he could tell, two seemed to be tickets for something and the other one was the booking confirmation of a hotel in … Brisbane, Australia.
"You've found them?" he asked incredulously, and the two boys smiled proudly.
"Yes. We actually had to take a Portkey over there for one day to confirm their identities, but we just managed to do it in time," Ron explained smugly and for a second he reminded Draco of Ginny. They had the same crooked smiled if they looked smug.
"Thank you!" Hermione burst out, looking like she wanted to hug the boys again. "The hotel and the Portkey tickets … they must've cost a fortune."
Harry shrugged. "It was nothing, Mione."
"Don't worry," Ron added. "I'm working in the joke shop now, and it pays well."
"But…" Hermione wanted to object, but then she interrupted herself and said instead, "Thank you. You don't know how much that means to me. How long are the tickets valid?"
The boys exchanged a glance. "Until a year from now. But … but we thought we could go together in the Christmas holidays."
Draco stiffened. Christmas. He hadn't thought about that holiday at all. And if she was gone … what would he do?
Hermione seemed to have the same train of thoughts because her eyes darted to Draco. "No. No, I'll wait until … I can walk again."
Harry's green eyes narrowed, but he nodded in understanding. "We just need to inform the Ministry a week in advance."
"Fair enough." Hermione turned to look at Ron. "How's the joke shop?"
A muscle in Ron's jaw twitched. "Good. George is … he's very busy, so most of it's down to me and Jolene." He swallowed. "Well, and Katie helps out every now and then."
"Jolene?" Hermione asked.
"Oh, she's the girl George employed after it was obvious we both couldn't manage alone." Ron tried to smile, but Draco realised that there was something wrong about it. He guessed it wasn't too easy to deal with George right now. He didn't know how they even managed to keep going after … after one of their brothers had died. But they probably had to. "She's okay. Not as efficient as Verity, but … well, you know," Ron added and all three grimaced as if remembering something painful. Draco didn't really understand what that was about, but he guessed said Verity hadn't survived the war.
After a while, the conversation changed to the Auror job Harry had been offered. He had to complete a two-month training and then would be working as a full Auror.
"Are you … are you ready?" Hermione asked tentatively.
Harry's hand fluttered to his scar, but he stopped it before he could touch it. "I don't know. I want to be. I want to catch the Death Eaters who got away."
Draco swallowed loudly and tugged at the corners of his long-sleeved shirt. It was actually much too hot to wear it, but he couldn't expose his bruises to the others.
He liked watching the three of them interact. They were such tight-knit friends, he always felt a bit left out. He wasn't angry about it because he knew they didn't exclude him on purpose, it was just the way they worked. He could, however, detect a slight awkwardness between Ron and Hermione, but as the hour progressed, it disappeared and was replaced by their usual camaraderie.
Without warning, the feeling of unworthiness hit Draco. Hermione should be with the war hero, who could give her the life she deserved. He had pushed himself between her and Ron, their easy friendship, their complicated, interweaved love story.
Quickly, he took a large gulp of the beer to cover up his need to drink another pain potion. He couldn't take more. He was already on a too large dose as it was.
Harry interrupted his dark thoughts. "Oh, I nearly forgot – what's the deal with Rita Skeeter? Ginny's letter was too vague for me to confront her."
Draco swallowed visibly. "Well…"
Hermione chuckled. "The cow took a photo of them in the Quidditch changing rooms, and it looks like he was seducing her or anything."
Harry's shoulders stiffened slightly, but his expression remained carefully neutral. "Ah. I'll see what I can do."
Ron frowned at Draco. "What were you doing in the changing rooms?"
Nervously, Draco pulled his sleeves further over his wrists. "We'd played Quidditch," he said instead of the arrogant remark he normally would have given.
"And why would the photos look compromising if you're just chatting?"
Draco bit his lip. "I wasn't wearing a shirt."
Harry's gaze focused on him and then travelled down to Draco's hands. "You were changing?" he asked slowly, as if he had another theory about what Draco could have done in the changing rooms.
Usually, Draco would have replied with a snide remark, but now he just shrugged and resisted the urge to fiddle with the sleeves. Harry was watching him too closely. "She waited for the right moment, that bitch."
"I got you a Mason jar," Hermione chimed in and summoned something out of her handbag. "That should work nicely."
Harry chuckled, momentarily distracted from Draco, and took it.
"Can I come with?" Ron grinned. "I want to see the look on her face when we force her to write something nice about Draco."
"With a jar?" Draco asked sceptically.
Hermione tilted her head slightly. "You know she's an Animagus, don't you?"
"Um," he mumbled. He did remember that from his fourth year, but he didn't think it wise to confirm it so openly.
Hermione chuckled. "Don't worry about it."
"So you – what? – threaten to lock her into the jar if she doesn't comply?"
Hermione looked positively devious. "Oh, yes."
Draco couldn't help the smile that played across his lips. "She doesn't stand a chance against you."
Harry nodded in agreement. "But we should go before the editorial deadline." He grabbed his beer and suddenly lifted it to a toast. "Before, however, a toast on the most brilliant, brave, and…" He winked at Hermione. "…cunning witch I know. To Hermione."
"To Hermione," Draco and Ron repeated and bumped their glasses with Harry's.
When Draco lifted the glass to his mouth, he realised that Harry wasn't drinking but staring at something on his right arm. Draco's gaze travelled down and he realised that his sleeve had slipped down only half an inch, but it was enough to outline the dark shadows on his wrist. Quickly, he put the beer down and tried to cover his joint, but Hermione's hand came out of nowhere and grabbed his hand.
"What the hell …?" she hissed and roughly pushed his sleeve up to his elbow.
"Who did that?" Harry asked in a dangerous voice.
Draco glanced at his arm. In the afternoon sunlight the shadows seemed even deeper than they actually were. "It's nothing. Really. I fell from my broom."
Harry looked sceptically at him and was about to say something, but Hermione was faster. "The Ravenclaw beaters!" she exclaimed and unconsciously squeezed his hand hard. "That's why Ginny was so angry."
"What did they do?" Ron chimed in.
"Nothing," Draco protested.
"Rubbish," Harry hissed. "That's not nothing." His eyes still glinted dangerously and Draco knew he wouldn't let it go.
"I really fell from my broom … after they hit me with a Bludger. It's nothing serious, really!" Draco finally admitted after he had lost the staring contest with Harry.
"They what?" Ron hissed.
"Oh, I see," Hermione murmured slowly. "But Ginny couldn't have …" She looked questioningly at Draco, and he rolled his eyes.
"Theo," he whispered, knowing what she was implying.
"Theo?" she repeated disbelieving. "But he … he never …"
Draco sighed. "He's something of a lone wolf, true. But he cares for his pack."
"Could you fill us in?" Harry asked a bit impatiently.
"Theo apparently beat them up for it," Hermione said briefly without the slightest sign of displeasure. She rather seemed to approve of it. "Theodore Nott," she clarified after she had caught Harry's and Ron's questioning look.
The trio exchanged glances, and Draco had the feeling to miss an essential part of the conversation.
"He seems nicer than expected," Ron finally said and emptied his glass.
"Not all Slytherins are evil," Draco protested weakly and freed his hand from Hermione's grip. "I'm okay, guys. Could you stop that thing when you look at each other and convey a whole conversation with it?"
"We should leave anyway," Harry said, glancing at his watch. Ron nodded, emptying his glass, and after hugging Hermione, they both hurried away.
After they had left, Draco and Hermione snuggled together on the bench and savoured the last warm sunrays of the year. September was nearly over and October would bring coldness and rain. They had only sat there for a few minutes when Madam Rosmerta appeared unannounced. Their glasses were already empty, and they looked a bit guiltily at her for not ordering new ones. That, however, didn't seem to be the problem.
"I would kindly ask you two to leave. You are driving my other customers away," she said not kindly at all, and Draco froze. She didn't mean Hermione with that but him. Automatically, he started to gather his things, but Hermione stopped him.
"Why? I don't see a problem here, and you apparently also haven't seen one only a few minutes ago when Harry and Ron had still been here," she replied icily.
Madam Rosmerta seemed unimpressed. "Fine. I want him out," she spat full of menace.
Draco stiffened. "I – We're going," he said quickly, ignoring Hermione's protest. "And … and I would like to apologise to you for … for the Imperius."
Madam Rosmerta only gave him a look full of contempt, turned on her heels, and left. Carefully, Draco rolled Hermione through the garden out to the street.
"That … that … how could she …!" Hermione sputtered, so angry she was unable to form coherent sentences.
"Don't' be mad," he replied. "It is her right."
"Rubbish. You can't let other people treat you like scum," Hermione hissed.
It was strange that she was the second person to tell him that today. Almost like a sign that he should believe it. He didn't, though. He had deserved to be kicked out by Madam Rosmerta for using her as an instrument to kill Dumbledore – and almost killing another student, Katie Bell. He had also deserved the revenge of the Ravenclaw beaters. Hermione, however, would never be able to understand his point of view. Harry maybe, but not her. She wasn't troubled and hunted by guilt like he was.
"Let's not argue today, okay?" he said softly and stopped the wheelchair to be able to look at her. "Forget it. Everything. It doesn't matter."
"But …" she contradicted, obviously not understanding how Draco could take it so lightly.
He shook his head to silence her. "No. Today is about you, Hermione. I had hoped it could be a – well, a care-free day, a normal day. I had hoped the darkness would leave us alone." He smiled crookedly. "It seems determined, however, to bother us. But I don't care, Hermione. So, could you please forget it? Could you pretend for the remaining …" he glanced at his watch. "… seven hours of your birthday that nothing at all had happened?"
She watched him attentively, her amber eyes x-raying him, and Draco felt as though she could see all his darkness. But then she nodded, and he knew the darkness didn't matter to her.
"Fair enough. What do you propose we do on this normal evening?" There was not a hint of sarcasm in her voice, only a slight mocking tone.
He smiled at her and winked. "Let's not spoil the surprise."
"Where are you taking me?" Hermione asked, a little breathless when Draco rolled her down the final stretch to the Room of Requirement. He had folded a scarf over her eyes and taken a few detours, so she wouldn't know which way they were going.
Draco chuckled lowly as he walked past the tapestry of dancing trolls three times. "Nearly there," he replied and eased the creaking door open that had appeared just a moment later.
Hermione leaned forward in her wheelchair as if she could access the room faster this way. Her cheeks were rosy, and she nearly vibrated with exhilaration. Her impatience elicited yet another amused chuckle from Draco while he led her through the door.
He gripped her hand tighter, as if to hold onto her, hold onto the feelings she evoked in him. The butterflies in his stomach, her pounding heart that had nothing to do with fear - for the first time in a long time.
Draco's gut clenched in anticipation as he stepped forward and into the room. At once, the ground changed. Wooden planks caused the wheelchair to jerk, making Hermione's head turn around in the hope of identifying her surroundings. After the door had been closed and locked, Draco wheeled Hermione to the end of the wooden pathway where a blanket, candles, and excellent food waited for them, courtesy of the house elves. A slightly salty breeze swept over them all of a sudden, and Hermione paused.
"Is that … the sea?" she asked, confused. The soft sound of waves seemed to reach them from far away.
"Shh," Draco whispered, lifting her out of the chair onto the blanket. "What do you feel?"
A little insecure, her hand felt around until she met the sandy floor. "Sand. A - a beach?" Her frown deepened. "I can hear the ocean, even smell it, but … that's impossible!"
Softly, Draco undid the knot behind her head and let the scarf fall to her lap. "And what do you see?"
She gasped and stared around with wide eyes. The Room of Requirement had really done a marvellous job. The whole floor was wrapped into a thick carpet of sand, and where the walls and the ceiling should be, there was nothing but endless white beach, softly moving ocean, and starlit night sky. Of course, the walls were still there, but the illusion was good enough to let them forget that, to give them a taste of freedom.
"Wow!" was all Hermione was able to choke out.
Draco grinned from ear to ear as he lowered himself to the blanket. His surprise seemed to work. "You didn't think I had no present for you, did you?" Her gaze found his and it was full of wonder. "Happy Birthday, Hermione," he added gently and took her hand for a second.
She opened her mouth and closed it again, still speechless. It took her a while to remember how to speak. "The Room of Requirement," she finally uttered. "Incredible." She let the sand run through her fingers. "You are incredible, Draco. Thank you so much."
Happiness bubbled up inside him like gas in sparkling wine. His chest was too tight to contain all this joy, and his breath hitched in his throat.
"You're very welcome. Are you hungry?" He reached for a picnic basket.
"Starving, after you convinced me to change into a dress," Hermione replied with a crooked smile. She tugged at the seam of her knee-length cotton dress, whose colour varied from off-white to a nearly ivory shade with grey nuances. It had three-quarter sleeves and buttons down the front. She had opened the first three, revealing a simple silver necklace. It was a very casual dress, but, to Draco, she looked stunning.
"It was worth it, wasn't it?" he asked impishly, smoothing out nonexistent creases in his crisp shirt.
She shrugged and tried to push the sleeves a bit further down her arm to cover her scars. Mudblood.
"Don't," he breathed. "You're beautiful. Perfect."
She looked questioningly at him for a second, then averted her gaze. "Is there food now or not?" she asked roughly, trying to distract him.
Draco pushed the basket over to her and let her open it while he took two glasses and filled them with home-made lemonade. His old self would have probably ordered champagne, but he wasn't his old self anymore. Now he preferred something simple, less decadent.
"Who prepared all this?" she asked, captured again by amazement. "I mean cold soup, couscous salad …" Her eyes widened. "Coronation Chicken? And here …" She took out a bowl with round brown balls. "Scotch Eggs! Really?"
"You don't like it?" Draco asked anxiously. He had never prepared a picnic before; that was his mother's speciality. But he had eaten large picnics in the Manor's garden, usually surrounded by other pureblood children. That, however, was all he could offer as experience. Quickly, he snapped his mouth shut as if he'd said too much.
She shook her head. "It's perfect. There's even Eton Mess as desert! You can't possibly have made that."
A lopsided smile danced onto his lips. "Why not?"
Hermione opened her mouth to answer, but he was faster. "You are right, of course. I didn't cook anything. I just asked the elves if they'd help me. I didn't expect all this!" The elves seemed to have very strong opinions about wizards who tried to meddle with their cooking skills and picnic ideas. He had only managed to give them some general instructions before he was ushered out of the kitchens.
"Elves?" she asked, slightly alarmed.
"They wanted to help me, believe me," he replied sincerely, sensing her dismay. She scrutinised him for a moment, but found nothing except for the honesty in his eyes.
"O-okay," she gave in and took a sip of the lemonade. "This is good. I can't believe how good this is."
Draco handed her a plate and she heaved food onto it. The elves had outdone themselves.
"I've never really celebrated my birthday like this, you know," Hermione suddenly disclosed between two spoons of tomato consommé. "I don't like to make something grand out of it. When we were at Hogwarts before, it was just Harry, Ron, and me, and sometimes Ginny, doing something together, something casual. And last year …" She interrupted herself.
"Is it too much?" he asked, again anxious he had overwhelmed her with his efforts.
"Actually, it's nice," she smiled at him. "I don't need it, mind you, but I like it. It makes me feel … special."
Draco let the happiness engulf him, wrapping the delight of this moment around him like a blanket."You are special to me," he answered huskily and felt a bush blooming on his face.
Hermione blushed, too. She looked pretty and alive with her flushed cheeks. She quickly took another mouthful of soup. "Thank you," she muttered, then she added, almost as an afterthought, "Are you okay?"
"Yes," he answered as sincerely as he could. Being here, with her, was better than riding a broom, better than anything he had ever done in his whole life. And that kiss … oh, that kiss. Did he want to gulp down another pain potion? Hell, yes. But would he? No, not tonight. He wanted his senses sharp and clear for her, even if it meant bearing the pain.
"Your arm?" she asked tentatively and gestured towards his left arm with her spoon.
"Hermione," he sighed. "Let's skip that tonight."
She scrutinised him. Draco knew she was looking for the guilt he tried to suppress. He didn't deserve her, and he really shouldn't have kissed her. But he wanted to.
To distract her, he grabbed his plate and took a bite of the Scotch Eggs. She followed suit.
"I don't want you to feel like you can't come to me," Hermione said suddenly, her fork with the chicken hovering in front of her mouth. With a clink, she put it back down on the plate. "You don't need to shelter me. I don't want you to pretend you're fine when you're not."
Suddenly, the happiness he'd felt only a minute ago vanished. "Is it because I didn't tell you about the Quidditch accident?"
Hermione stared at him. "Accident? It was not an accident, Draco! Someone hurt you on purpose."
He shrugged. So much for keeping it casual tonight. It was no use to say that he deserved as much because she didn't see it this way. "It wasn't about sheltering you," Draco concluded. "Can we drop it?" His tone had been harsher than intended, and she flinched at it. He ignored her, biting into the chicken. It didn't taste half as good as when he last took a bite.
"Sorry," she murmured, finally. "I didn't want to spoil the evening."
He forced a smile on his face. "It's okay. You didn't spoil anything." He sighed. "And you were right, in a way, but not because I think you can't handle it, but because I don't want you to see the bad sides. I don't want you to blame yourself for anything."
Seemingly deep in thought, she chewed her couscous salad and swallowed. "Next time you'll tell me, okay?"
He looked into her determinedly burning eyes and knew he had lost. "Fine."
"And, actually, I don't want you to blame yourself either," she added forcefully. "I know you don't want to hear it, but nobody deserves to be beaten up or thrown out of a café just for the mistakes he made in his life."
"You call being a Death Eater a mistake?" he asked, incredulous.
"You were never a Death Eater, Draco, not the way the others were," she stated softly and reached for his hand. He didn't stop her from touching him, but he also didn't relax. "Besides, you were just a kid."
"I'm darkness, Hermione. I might not have been a Death Eater, but I'm not a good person. I deserve to be punished for the bad things I did." He let his shoulders slump and his head fall. "I really don't understand why you stay with me. Today … when I saw you with Ron …" He swallowed painfully. "He deserves you. He's kind, and loyal, and strong, and much more of a hero than I am. I – I'm just nothing like that."
Draco felt her move rather than saw it. She cursed under her breath when she spilled her lemonade over the blanket, but that didn't stop her from crawling towards him until she could reach for his head and force him to face her. "I'm not looking for somebody with some superhuman gifts, a hero or fairytale prince, Draco. I want someone who understands, someone I don't need to be strong for, someone I can kiss. I want something just like this." With that, Hermione bent forward and crushed her lips to his.
Draco simply couldn't resist her - all his defences crumbled under her kiss, and he found himself returning it. He was instantly aware of every part of her body that was touching him, and he wrapped his arms around her waist, drawing her in closer. The need to touch every part of her was all consuming, and Draco lost himself in the passion of the kiss.
The temperature in the Room of Requirement must have risen ten degrees, and he didn't understand how his body could be so warm and yet still shiver.
Hermione wound her fingers through his hair. Her body seemed to mould against his as if she were liquid, and just like that, Draco knew that whatever he was feeling was mutual. She loved him back. She really bloody loved him. The thought was pure bliss, pure happiness, and it made him feel warm inside, like a fire burning within.
But then, abruptly, Hermione pulled away, hair mussed and lips slightly swollen, and stared at him.
"That was …" she whispered hoarsely.
"A hell of a kiss," Draco said, no less hoarsely.
"… wholly unexpected," she finished her sentence at the same time.
The stared at each other for a second, breathing hard, and Draco had to fight the urge to kiss her again.
"You can't tell me you didn't feel that," she whispered and tried to distance herself from him, but he wouldn't let her. He wanted to never let her go, wanted to touch her and keep her close forever.
"I …" he uttered helplessly. She loved him, true and unfeigned. She really wanted him, him – the Death Eater, him - with all his darkness and guilt. He still couldn't wrap his head around it.
"Love is not about deserving it, Draco – although you do! – love is a force of nature, an element, like air to breathe and earth to stand on. You can't stand in its way, and you sure as hell can't deny it. We are right for each other!"
"I …" he repeated. All she'd said sounded so right, so perfect. Could he allow himself to be happy? "I know," he gave in, forgetting logic for then.
He wanted nothing more than embrace the gift she had given him, the joy, the delight of her company, the almost painful happiness he'd felt when they'd kissed.
A roguish smile crept onto Hermione's lips, recognising his words as the defeat they were, and she leaned forward to kiss him again.
Later, after they had eaten all of the delicacies the elves had prepared for them, they sat down on the hammock that had appeared in midair and gazed up at the stars glittering on the ceiling sky above them. Draco had never felt this good, so full and whole, in her life. Hermione's head fit perfectly in the crook of his neck, as if it was made for her.
"I have another surprise for you," Draco said gently and reached over to a low table where something big had been concealed with a cloth.
"Another one?" Hermione asked, grinning. "You spoil me."
He grinned back and removed the cloth with a sweeping movement, revealing an old gramophone. With a mischievous smile, Draco pressed play, and the gramophone came to life.
"What …?" Hermione asked amazed, but interrupted herself when the first notes of the song reverberated through the room. They seemed to touch something inside of her. Slowly, she turned to look at him, her eyes suddenly too bright. "You didn't forget," she whispered, her voice raw with unshed tears and emotion.
"Don't cry," Draco answered and pulled her close, letting her nestle her head on his shoulder.
"With the lights out, it's less dangerous. Here we are now, entertain us," Kurt Cobain sang in the background.
She could hardly speak through all her tears. "I'm not crying because I'm sad," she explained. She was happy, insanely happy; so happy, in fact, all she could do was cry.
Draco pulled her closer still and listened to the music. "Thank you for introducing me to Muggle music," he broke the silence after the song had ended.
She straightened herself, wiping her tears away and lifting her chin proudly. "You're welcome. How did you manage to get Muggle music to Hogwarts?"
Smugly, he grinned at her. "I have my ways."
He'd felt so utterly lost after the war, and Hermione held him together when he threatened to fall apart. Now, because of her, he wasn't lost anymore. This might have been the best date ever. He couldn't remember having ever felt this joy.
Hermione tilted her head, her eyes glistening in the starlight. "I think I love you, Draco Malfoy."
A/N: lets end on a good note for once^^