Disclaimer: Anything recognizable doesn't belong to me. The wonderful world of Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling.
Hermione wasn't sure exactly what compelled her to walk up to him in the library. Well, she knew what, but she couldn't understand why. His feelings about her presence had been made perfectly clear over the last few years. Still, after seeing him bloodied and bruised by an unknown hand that night, she felt that she needed to confront him. To see that he was okay.
So when she noticed him enter the library, her usual turf keep in mind, she believed that he might have wanted to talk to her too. Though, he had been sitting at a safe distance from her and she wasn't even sure if he had actually registered her existence. As the library thinned out, and Madame Pince seemed intent on her own reading, Hermione made her way over to Draco's desk.
"Not now Granger," he said without looking up, before she even had the chance to open her mouth! Hermione harrumphed.
"Really, I just came to see if you –" she trailed off as his gaze hit her with its cold intensity. She mustered her Gryffindor courage. She would not falter before such a look. He owed her an explanation at least.
"Are you alright? Did I manage to … fix everything?" she asked, conscious of the possible prying eyes and ears around them. Malfoy continued to glare, not uttering a word.
"Seriously Malfoy, a simple nod would do. There is no need to be such a – a –prick!" She exclaimed, frustrated. "Your silence is childish. Though that is to be expected, so I suppose your behaviour is an indication that you are feeling top notch again. A pleasure as always, Malfoy." Hermione turned to leave, but his low hiss stopped her.
"Why do you even pretend to care? You'd be quite happy if I turned up dead. As would most people in this place," he muttered darkly. Hermione stared at him sadly.
"It must be miserable to be you. To think and feel that way. But the way I see it, for now at least, we are still fellow students. We are the same age, in the same school, in many of the same classes. Whether you like it or not Malfoy, we do share a history. And for me, that means if I see you as I did I want to help. And I would like some answers about what exactly happened the other-"
"Enough!" Draco snapped, cutting her off and casting a wary look about the room. A few students lingered, seemingly intent on their work, but he wasn't taking any chances.
"You want to talk? You need answers?" he sneered, "Fine. I'll consider it. But only because of what you did. I don't want to owe you a thing. Then we'll be even."
"I'd hardly say we're even Mal-"
"Not now! And most definitely not here" he spoke over her in quiet hushed tones. "Meet me in the Astronomy Tower tomorrow night at ten o'clock. Tell no one. Bring no one. Do not be seen."
He gathered his things and went to storm away.
"How can I trust that this isn't a setup? That you don't have a trap planned for me?" Hermione demanded. She was genuinely concerned and wanted answers, but she wasn't stupid. He was still a Slytherin. A Slytherin connected with Death Eaters. Not exactly a safe and trustworthy sort.
He let out a hollow laugh.
"You were the one who wanted to talk Granger. Do whatever the hell you want." He avoided her gaze as he walked out, tossing back quite loudly "You'll just have to wait until I'm done with the book Mudblood. Too bad."
She stared after him in confusion, until she noticed that they had garnered the attention of Madame Pince and one of the remaining students. Letting out what she hoped sounded like a frustrated sigh, she returned to gather her things and retreat to the Gryffindor Common Room.
Hermione apprehensively climbed the steps of the Astronomy Tower. She had borrowed the Marauder's Map from Harry, claiming the need to do some extra research for their Potion's assignment in the library, so she knew that the coast was clear. She had felt a twinge of guilt as he complied without question. And now she started to wonder if it had been wise to take the map with her instead of leaving it with Harry. If this was a trap, after all, then they boys would have had a better chance knowing something was wrong if they checked it.
"Too late now," Hermione murmured. But she wasn't stupid enough to let Malfoy, or anyone else, get his hands on it. She quickly muttered "Mischief Managed" and shoved the map into her robes. She felt secure enough to leave it. The castle was quiet tonight.
Hermione worried her lip as she entered the seemingly empty Astronomy Tower. Come to think of it, it had been too quiet. She hadn't noticed Malfoy's name on the Map. Did that mean he wasn't coming to meet her after all?
She huffed. Perhaps this was just some dirty trick. She'd wait here and be caught by a Professor. He'd report her to Snape, of course. Hermione turned to leave, determined not to be made a fool of. Her foot hit the first stair, but then she hesitated. She knew that there was Ancient magic involved in life debts. Perhaps Malfoy believed he owed her a debt for her assistance. She paused, debating with herself, finally deciding to wait. She had the map, after all. If she heard anything, she'd hide, then whip it out and await the opportunity to escape.
Realizing that she was a prime target just standing smack in the middle of the room, Hermione edged towards a corner where she had a good view of most of the space. There were all sorts of nooks and crannies, but she was just going to have to take a leap of faith.
Fifteen minutes later, Hermione was considering giving up and heading back to the common room. Perhaps this hadn't been a set up, but it didn't look like Malfoy was going to show up to give her those well-deserved answers. Typical Slytherin. She pushed off from the wall, determined to leave.
"Going so soon, Granger? Pity." Hermione started and whipped out her wand. Malfoy emerged from the shadows just in front of her, looking bemused. She glared at him, furious that he had jumped out at her like that.
"How long have you been there? Why didn't I see you come in?" She lowered her wand slightly, but didn't budge in her defensive stance. She glanced at him warily.
"About ten minutes. Though I didn't think those were the questions you wanted to ask me." He walked past her to the edge of the Tower, looking out on the grounds below them. Hermione watched him, but didn't move. Instead, her brain worked at a mile a minute constantly doubting his sincerity. Would he be honest with her? Why had he been waiting so long to only appear when she was about to leave?
"No, those weren't the questions…" she paused, wondering how far she should go.
"Go on then. That little know-it-all brain of yours must be bursting with curiosity. How on earth did the Slytherin Prince wind up in such a state? Dabbling in the Dark Arts? Duelling without supervision? Or the most troubling question, is he a Death Eater? Did you just help the enemy?" He didn't face her as he spoke, but Hermione noticed the way his jaw stiffened at that last bit. Suddenly, she felt very foolish and callous. No matter the reason for his predicament, he had been gravely injured. She was right to help him. She was not a villain.
"Those weren't the questions either." She replied, moving towards him slowly as one would do with a wounded animal. And they actually hadn't been the first things on her mind when she entered the library. Naturally, she had wondered what had happened when she saw him that night, and how it came to pass, but at the library she had been more concerned with how he was healing. Which she promptly told him.
"I was more curious about my handiwork. I haven't done many healing spells. I wanted to see how the wound was progressing." By this point she had reached his side.
He finally tore his gaze away from the horizon to stare at her in disbelief. Tentatively, she reached for the arm of his robe.
Without breaking eye contact, she asked "May I?" and gently rolled up his sleeve at his cautious nod.
She let out a hiss when she saw the jagged lines across his forearm. They were red and looked raw, but healing.
She didn't look up as she gently ran her fingers over them.
"Perhaps I should get you a salve…" she murmured. Finally, she looked up to see Malfoy eyeing her with the most peculiar expression.
"You've done enough Granger." He roughly pulled his arm away and yanked down the arm of his robe. She frowned at him.
"For a moment there, I actually thought you appreciated my help. My mistake." She was tempted to turn and leave him there. What had she expected? That he would turn around and thank her again? Make her his confidante? Yet leaving felt too much like giving in.
"Which healing spells were you using when I found you and why didn't they work?" If he was surprised by her question, he didn't show it. Hermione had surprised herself by asking it first. There were so many other important questions to ask, yet that had been the quickest out of her mouth.
"It wasn't a healing spell. It was a stasis spell. I was trying to stop the damage from spreading. If I knew why they didn't work, then I wouldn't have been using them in the first place." He moved away, putting some distance between them. "Why did you use the stitching charm?"
Hermione was startled at the question. She had come seeking answers. She hadn't expected to have to answer any questions herself.
"It's what came to mind. I needed to close the wound." What she didn't tell him is that it's what Muggles did. Muggles stitched their wounds.
He looked at her hard and for a moment she thought he knew her thoughts. Saw that her instinct was both Muggle and witch. But instead of sneering at her or scoffing or reminding her of how far below him she was, he simply nodded.
Deciding to push her luck, she asked the question he had been expecting from the start. "How did it happen?"
He shot her a dirty look. It seemed as if sharing time was over. Still, though, she persisted.
"I'm simply asking because, loathe as I am to admit it, you aren't half bad with a wand Malfoy. In most circumstances, I think you'd know how to heal yourself." He smirked at the faint praise and then his gaze darkened.
He turned from her and was silent for so long that Hermione thought he wasn't going to answer her. Just ignore her forever. It seemed though that Draco Malfoy did need a confidante. Needed someone to talk to. And somehow, Hermione Granger had stumbled into the role. When he finally spoke, it was as if he was speaking to himself.
"Pureblood families. We all have our secrets. Skeletons in the closet. Crazy aunts locked in the attic." His voice was a low murmur, but Hermione saw the truth in his words.
Bellatrix Lestrange. After her escape from Azkaban last year, it made sense that she would go to her sister at some point. And with Lucius now out of the picture… Hermione was beginning to see that life at Malfoy Manor was not what it used to be. Especially for the Slytherin prince.
Draco wasn't sure why he had come to the Astronomy Tower. Granger didn't deserve any answers from him. He couldn't afford to spill his secrets. To confide in a Gryffindor. And not just any Gryffindor. A member of the bloody Golden Trio. Bloody Potter's best friend.
They should be sworn enemies. He should be doing all he could to destroy them. Destroy her and her kind. And yet… she had helped him. Had helped him when his own family had done him harm. The past year had changed everything for him. His family was falling apart and the past was coming back to haunt him. It was one thing when he was parroting the ideals he had been brought up with but now… He had seen blood. Torture. Death. His home was not what it used to be. His father was gone and his insane Aunt Bella was roaming the halls, casting curses at will. And the Dark Lord. At first, Draco thought it would be an honour to be a Death Eater. To follow in his father's footsteps. He realized now that he was following the shadow of a madman. There was no glory here. Only terror. And anger.
Oh he had been angry. It had been easy enough to direct that anger at Saint Potter, the Weasel, and the Mudblood. At first. But once he was away from the Manor - it was the Manor now, not home – and away from the madness, truth began to glimmer. He was angry, that was true. But with his insane Aunt Bellatrix. The Dark Lord. But most of all, his father. The man whom he had admired for so much of his life. The man who he had strived to be like. He was the reason Draco's life was in turmoil. If he had never become a Death Eater in the first place, there may have been a chance of hope. As it were, there was nothing but a bleak future. However short that may be. For Draco didn't doubt that the Dark Lord did not expect him to survive this task. It was a suicide mission. But he had no choice. It was not only his life at stake. He threatened his mother. And if Draco thought for a moment that Bellatrix's loyalty would extend to protect her sister, this weekend proved otherwise.
A little coded owl from his mother had arrived, informing him that he would be coming back to the Manor on the first Hogsmeade weekend. It was the only way they could figure to get him out without a lot of notice. And when he had arrived… all hell had broken loose. With nothing to report regarding his progress, he had seen just how fragile his mother's place in her home was. And Aunt Bella hadn't hesitated to show her displeasure with him either.
After a round of curses, she had attacked his forearm with vigour, disgusted that no Dark Mark had been graced upon it. He didn't understand that. His mother had never been marked.
He was grateful that she hadn't seen what Bella had done to him. He managed to leave without seeing her again. A punishment for her, yes, but a blessing too. If his mother had seen what her sister had done to her beloved son it would have destroyed her. And she was in enough straits as it was. Draco hated adding to her burden. He had the freedom of Hogwarts while she was trapped within the house walls.
He hated to admit it, but he was grateful for Granger's help too. If she hadn't arrived… well he would have survived but the next spell he had planned wouldn't have been pretty. In his panicked state, he hadn't been thinking clearly. He had been thinking emotionally and that was part of the problem. He couldn't shut off the anger. Couldn't shut off the fear. The stress. He couldn't escape any of it.
His snarky conversation with Granger earlier had been the closest thing to normal he had experienced in months. He had liked it. It just seemed so right. The little goody-two-shoes helping him. His attempts to fend her off. He wanted to hold onto those moments like a life-line. Something that finally made sense in this whirlwind that was now his life.
He felt her waiting jut behind him, expecting him to say something. Anything. He sincerely wished he had it in him to comply. But he felt only emptiness. He couldn't confide in anyone. Especially not Granger.
"It can't be easy," her tentative voice broke through his reverie. Her attempts at empathy amused him. As if she could ever understand the burden he suffered. The task he had to conquer or else face death.
He let out a hollow laugh. "Don't bother trying to understand Granger. Even with your sharp brain, you couldn't possibly fathom it. And don't pretend you actually care. I'm sure you're on some fact-finding mission for Potter." The words were filled with venom. Draco noticed the flash of hurt cross Hermione's face and felt a twinge of regret. He hadn't meant to be so mean. In fact, he actually felt gratitude towards Granger. For treating him as she would everyone else. For not letting this bloody war affect everything.
"You're right!" Hermione snapped angrily. His hurtful words had only wounded for a moment. Because in some ways, she was on a fact-finding mission. It was answers she was seeking after all. But that didn't excuse his behaviour. "How could I possibly understand the stress you must be under? We fall on opposite sides of this war, and I am quite aware of that Malfoy. But if you believe one side is all sunshine and roses, you are sadly mistaken." She entreated upon his personal space and poked at his chest. "It is my kind you hate, or have you forgotten? That makes me a significant part of this. And the hatred is cast upon me. I have worked my arse off for the last five years, trying to prove myself. But it's not worth it. Because there will always be people like you who think you are better because of your blood."
Hermione yanked his injured arm towards her. "I've seen your blood Malfoy. I've actually kept it from spilling out all over the floor. And let me tell you, it looks the same as mine." She angrily flung his arm away from her, determined not cry. It was just so stupid! Blood purity and all the ideals that went with it. "People will die Malfoy. People like you. People like me. But in this moment, we live outside of that. Within these walls, we are all Hogwarts students. We are the same."
Having said her piece, Hermione turned and walked away from Malfoy, head held high. She was so far down the stairs, she was lucky she heard his reply.
"I think people like me need people like you Granger." The words were spoken so softly that Hermione wondered if he'd meant for her to hear them at all.