The week following Hermione and Draco's trip to Blackmoor Forest was one of the most miserable Hermione had ever experienced.
I've never felt so pathetically sheltered and babied in my entire life - and that's a life living with Harry and Ron.
In only seven days time, Hermione had been in about a dozen arguments with Draco - mostly regarding her competence to continue assisting in their research.
"My brain is completely fine, Draco," Hermione had said icily, only four days after returning from the forest, "It's my arm that's the problem, and even that will be right as rain in a day or two."
Draco was trying - yet again, to spoon feed her from the potion Snape had ordered him to brew.
The day she awoke, Hermione had offered to help finish brewing it, along with the blood-replenishing potion, but Draco had reacted as though she had just told him she was going to stroll up to Voldemort and ask whether he wore boxers or briefs.
"You shouldn't overexert yourself," he had said, "What use are you going to be to anyone if you can't even walk?"
"I can walk just fine, Draco!" She retorted, "That's what I've been trying to tell you!"
But Draco merely shook his head, and forced her to have another tablespoon of the foul potion.
Hermione was, quite frankly, completely taken aback that he was so concerned about her wellbeing.
It was unnecessary and embarrassing - the way he fussed over her arm; but at the same time, she felt strangely flattered.
"Unbelievable," she muttered under her breath, "At least give me something to read. I can still research while you're making me lie here, incapacitated."
"No, Hermione," he said with a note of finality, "You're not going near another book until I've looked through all of them, first. Do you want to come across another curse like the Mudiaticus?"
She stared at him, wide eyed, before she exploded.
"Dammit, Malfoy! I'm going to go crazy if you don't let me do something! Would you stop being so overprotective for about five seconds? I already have Harry, the entire Weasley family, and the Order that play the role of "big brother" - I don't need to add you to the list," she snapped, angrily as grabbed a pillow in frustration and tossed it across the expanse of her room.
"So we're back to 'Malfoy', now, are we?" Draco spat irritatedly, as he stood to retrieve the pillow.
Hermione sighed in frustration, "Look, I'm sorry. Bad habit. I've been calling you 'Malfoy', for as long as I can remember, okay? Now, would you quit changing the subject? Either move out of the way so I can get out of this bed, or bring me something to read!"
But Draco wasn't about to relent.
"Would you stop being to damned stubborn! You are not going near another one of those books, and that's final! There are curses in there that could kill you, Hermione! Kill you! What are you not understanding? I was a complete fool to let you read them in the first place! You're lucky that it was only your arm that was scathed!"
Hermione was about ready to boil over with rage.
Granted, Draco did have a point. Volumes on the Dark Arts were extremely dangerous for muggleborns to read.
And he was right - she was lucky that nothing worse had happened to her.
But did that mean that she had to be bedridden for a week with absolutely nothing to do?
"Draco," she said calmly, though her voice was quivering with restraint, "I'll stay away from those books, but I want you to at least let me finish the Polyjuice Potion."
Draco regarded her for a moment before he set the vile of steaming potion down on Hermione's nearby nightstand.
It was a sickly shade of green.
"Hermione..." he began.
"Don't 'Hermione' me!" She interrupted, "That's the deal. Take it or leave it."
She folded her arms squarely across her chest, as though the action alone would prove to Draco that it was, indeed, an ultimatum.
He sighed, audibly, as he sat back down in the chair next to Hermione's bed. Finally, he looked up and met her eyes.
"If you swear to me that you will not go near those texts, then I promise you that you can do whatever you like with the Polyjuice Potion."
"Hell," he back peddled with a smirk, "I'll even let you pick the muggles who's hair we'll use."
He'll let me.
That's rich.
"I'm so glad that you brought that up," Hermione said in an almost too pleasant voice, as a smug grin appeared on her face, "There is a particularly plump and elderly woman in Hanoock that I saw when I was getting supplies. I think that she'll do quite nicely for you."
The smirk instantly fell.
He stared at her quietly a moment longer before saying, "Give me your word, Hermione."
She looked at him, quizzically.
"Give me your word that you won't go near those books," he reiterated.
"Look, Draco. I give you my word. What do you want me to say? Would an Unbreakable Vow put your mind at ease?" she added, sarcastically.
Draco's eyebrows shot up for an instant, as though he were considering the idea.
"You've got be to kidding," Hermione said, exasperated, as she took in his expression.
He shook his head, "No, I trust you. Besides, we'd need a bonder."
Hermione rolled her eyes, as she threw the covers off the bed and made to hop down the side.
"What are you doing?" Draco asked, as he firmly planted his hands on the top of her shoulders, pushing her back in a sitting position.
"What does it look like I'm doing?" She asked, defiantly, as she reached up to lift his arms off her, "I'm getting up so I can check on the Polyjuice Potion. While you've been dillydallying up here all morning, the potion has probably been ruined! At very best, I will more than likely have to trace back three separate steps before adding the final ingredients. That alone could take days - and we're already behind schedule!"
Hermione was now standing, and walking the length of the room in her night robe, waving her arms wildly in the air as she vented her frustration.
"Or..." she said as she suddenly stopped, causing Draco to nearly run into her from behind, "I wonder..." she whirled around so quickly that Draco was startled to be standing a whisper's length from her face. "If the fluxweed was gathered precisely at midnight, it might have a counter effect since the potion has been stagnant for so long...there's always the possibility that the lacewing flies have..."
"Hermione!" Draco interrupted, as he grabbed her wrists. He noted, irrelevantly, that her arms seemed to take on a mind of their own whenever she was in the middle of a tirade. It was almost as though she didn't have control over them; like a cat's tail - constantly in motion. "Calm down, would you? I just checked on the Polyjuice Potion, and it's fine. It's nearly done. We'll be able to collect the hairs soon."
Hermione eyed him, knowingly.
Draco rolled his eyes, "Fine, I mean that you'll be able to collect the hairs soon, since I'm not allowed to leave the castle - despite the fact that I'm twenty-four years old and have been taking care of myself since I was sixteen," he said, angrily.
Hermione's eyes softened in understanding, "Draco, you know that Snape's only - "
"Yeah, I know," he interrupted, loudly.
"Trust me, I understand, " he said, while sitting on the edge of Hermione's bed, " But that doesn't mean I have to like it. Snape puts his life on the line every day of his existence and I...I sit here in the castle - doing nothing."
Draco had pulled out his wand, and began studying it intently, as his blond bangs fell down from his normally kept hair, momentarily obscuring his face.
Hermione regarded him in understanding before she walked over and sat on the bed beside him.
"Draco," she began, "We all have a part to play in this." Her sorrel eyes studied the length of his pale, smooth face. "Just because your part seems insignificant right now, doesn't mean that it is. We're all working together with the same purpose in mind."
He looked up from his wand and met her gaze. There were seven - no, eight, tiny freckles that dotted her otherwise flawless skin, just below the eyes.
Sighing loudly, he finally spoke, "I know. It's just...I wish I could do...more."
"You can," Hermione replied, cheerfully, "You can help fix the mess you made of the Polyjuice Potion."
"Hermione, that's not what I meant," Draco said, still fingering his wand.
She sighed, "I know what you meant, Draco. But do you now understand where I'm coming from? How you treating me as though you're my overprotective big brother is frustrating as all hell?"
Draco merely stared at her.
"I mean, this whole time - ever since I graduated from Hogwarts and became a member of the Order, and an Auror, I've been treated as though I'm this fragile, breakable doll," Hermione said as she stood and walked over towards the warmth of the fireplace. "And Harry is just as bad as the rest of them. You don't think that I understand how condescending it is to be told, 'Wait here, Hermione, while we go check this out,' or 'Hermione, I think that we have enough members going on this mission, why don't you just rest here till we get back?', or...and this is my personal favorite, 'Hermione, if anything ever happened to you, we wouldn't be able to live with ourselves!'"
Once more, her hands began to wave unknowingly in patterns around her head..
"Complete rubbish! All of it! Do you realize, Draco, the only person in the entire Order that I have not disarmed in a duel is Harry? And, not to mention, that I am the only one capable of doing wandless magic! And they think that I am the one that needs to be protected?"
Her chest was heaving up and down as she stood by the fire. And then, just as suddenly as it came on, the anger dissipated and she bowed her head, slightly ashamed of herself.
"I'm sorry," she said, quietly, "That was incredibly arrogant of me, wasn't it? I really don't feel as though I'm better than the rest...er, what I mean to say, is that...I just wanted to be treated..."
Hermione stopped speaking and chuckled to herself, "I'm being quite articulate, aren't I?"
A small smile appeared over Draco's bemused face.
And she returned, once more, to sit next to him, "I just don't want," she began, while eying Draco's wand, "...to be treated any differently than how Harry is."
Draco looked at her in surprise.
How would it be to live in Potter's shadow all the time?
Perhaps the most brilliant witch of the epoch, being asked to sit on the sidelines for her own "protection."
She was right. It was as condescending as all hell.
And in that moment, Draco realized that he and Hermione weren't so different.
Despite their 'blood', their past, and the plethora of differences that couldn't all be listed on a five foot roll of parchment, they were more alike that he could have ever dreamed.
Everyone in this madness had a part to play; and they both were just acting their parts.
It didn't mean that they had to like it.
"You know," Draco said as he pocketed his wand and turned toward Hermione, "Despite what anyone might say or think, we're very much the same, Hermione Granger."
Hermione wrinkled her brow in confusion, "How do you mean?"
"This war," he began as he turned to look out her window, "And the subsequent circumstances that followed, have dictated the roles we play. But you and I, we were both born to play a different part."
Yes. That's it, exactly.
"You know, Draco, despite being a complete prat for the majority of the time, occasionally, you do manage to say something that is quite remarkable," Hermione said as she stood from the bed, "Now, if you would be kind enough to leave me for two seconds, I'd like to get out of this night robe."
Draco blushed deeply, as he quickly extricated himself from the bed, "I'll..just...er, be down in the dungeon, checking on the Polyjuice Potion."
He was out of the room within seconds.
Odd.
Never would have taken him for the bashful type.
Shrugging out of her night robe, Hermione walked over toward the dresser that previously housed her over sized witches robes. She paused, slightly, as she tapped her lip, and then disentangled a deep, crimson robe from the tiny area.
She dressed quickly, and gratefully left the confines of her room as she headed toward the east staircase.
As she started down the steep cool stairs, her mind turned to the new perplexing enigma that was Draco.
If someone had told me back at Hogwarts that not only would Draco Malfoy be singlehandedly helping me destroy Voldemort, but that we were on our way to becoming...'friends', I would have put a million galleons on it.
And, right now I'd be destitute.
Hermione paused midway down the steps, and leaned her head against the cracked, stone wall.
But are we friends?
Not really. But...not just acquiantances either.
We tolerate each other, we work well together, but does that make us 'friends'?
And what's more - his protectiveness - albeit annoying...is strange.
And the indescribable look in his eyes...
Hermione shook her head as she broke from her reverie and quickly continued down the length of the stairwell.
As she descended the spiral stairs that led to the dungeon, the potent scent of the Polyjuice Potion roughly assaulted her senses. She breathed it in deeply, relishing in the thought of applying herself to the task.
Draco was stooped over the boiling cauldron, steam obscuring his face.
Hermione smiled, slightly as she entered the modest room.
"So," she began, as she raised her head proudly, "I trust that you haven't completely destroyed the potion."
Draco smirked, "Hardly. I've already told you, I am indefinitely more capable than Potter. Come see for yourself."
Hermione ignored the jab at Harry and strode forward to peer over the massive cauldron.
She scrutinized it briefly before turning to face Draco, "How much Boomslang did you add?"
He rolled his eyes in exasperation, "Honestly, Hermione," he said, extremely bemused, "I got an "O" in Potions."
"Is that so?" Hermione asked, folding her arms, and trying miserably to hide her astonishment.
Draco merely shook his head as he returned to the potion.
"What do you think you're doing?" she asked as she moved to intercept his position in front of the cauldron.
Draco looked at her, quizzically.
"I'm taking care of the potion while you're looking through those texts, or would you rather I -"
"No!" Draco said, firmly, cutting her off, "No. I'll do the research. You...you finish the potion."
Hermione gave a slight smirk of triumph before she walked to the cabinet of the far wall to grab more ingredients.
Let's see...how much horn of bicorn do we have?
Hermione's deft fingers traced over various viles and bottles on the aged shelve that was adorned with cobwebs.
When she returned to the cauldron, Draco was leaning back against the bench holding the text, Darker Matter: The Art of Trasfiguration.
They worked in silence for several minutes before Draco audibly turned a page, and made a slight noise of intrigue.
"What?" Hermione asked, as she rolled up her sleeves, "Find anything useful?"
"Nothing about Horcruxes, no. It's just an interesting passage on transfiguring dark objects that I've never read before," he said, as he pulled the text closer to his face.
"I still don't understand how you haven't read those books when they were just sitting in your home for ages," she said, while stirring.
"Honestly, I didn't want to have anything to do with them," Draco said from behind the great volume, "For me, embracing these texts meant that I was embracing the same fate and path of my father. I despised them," he added, as an afterthought.
Hermione nodded before she began to cough violently into the fumes of the potion.
Draco looked up from the text, "You okay?" he asked in bewilderment.
When Hermione finally found her breath, her eyes were full of tears, "Merlin, this stuff is strong," she said before she went into another coughing fit.
Draco smiled slightly before returning to the text. His eyes paused and reread over a particular section.
"The most difficult and complex of all transformations is that of the Animagus. Dark Wizards throughout history have strongly supported the notion of the transformation. Grindelwald, himself, is said to have been quoted, saying that an Amimagi form is 'an invaluable asset when facing an opponent.' Methods on proper transformation techniques can be found..."
"Hermione, that's it!" Draco exclaimed, loudly. The noise startled Hermione so greatly, that she dropped her wand into the potion.
"Oh sorry," he said, as he made to stand up and retrieve the wand.
"No," Hermione said, as she waved her hand, dismissively, "It's fine, I can get it."
And she stretched her right hand over the cauldron and said, with a firm voice, "Accio wand!"
Her wand flew from the boiling potion with such force, that it splashed goop and matter all over Hermione as she grabbed it.
Draco chuckled, loudly.
She shot a glare at him before pointing the wand at herself and said, "Tergeo!"
Immediately, her crimson robes were cleaned.
"It's not funny, you know," Hermione said with her hands on her hips.
"Of course not."
"Now, what did you find that was so important that nearly gave me a heart attack?"
Draco picked up the text and handed it to Hermione to read.
"You're letting me read this?" she questioned, while tentatively taking the volume.
He nodded, "This one is fine."
Hermione read over the passage he had pointed to, and looked up at him in confusion.
"I don't understand. What does this have anything to do with -"
But Draco cut her off, "An Animagus, Hermione! What an invaluable asset! Just like Grindelwald said! You should really consider..."
He trailed off, as Hermione's eyes turned to the size of dinner saucers.
"What?"
And then it hit him.
Of course! How could I be so thick?
"But you...you... have already perfected your Animagus form, haven't you, Hermione?"
Hermione roughly handed him the text before returning to the Polyjuice Potion.
"Haven't you?" he pressed.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she said as she pulled out her wand and began to stir the potion.
"You know exactly what I'm talking about," he said as he moved in front of her and gently grabbed the sides of her arms - careful to avoid her bandage.
His determined eyes sought her now fearful ones.
What is she so afraid of?
"I know," Draco continued as he held her eyes, "that having an Animagus form is a requirement to be in the Order of the Phoenix. Snape told me once, long ago, so don't bother trying to deny it."
They stared at each other in silence for several minutes before Hermione spoke, "Yes, it's true," she said, so quietly that Draco had to strain to hear her.
He regarded her as she freed herself from his grasp, and continued to work on the potion.
"So what's wrong? You're acting as though I've just told you that you have a Death Eater for a brother. Hermione, if anything, this will help us tremendously. I...I can only use my Animagus form under very specific circumstances..."
But Draco never finished. He watched as Hermione stared blankly into the potion.
"Hermione?" he asked, gently, "What is it?"
But Hermione was not listening. Her mind was wandering far away to several years earlier in a moment she had long since forgotten.
"Well, come on, Hermione! What are you? We haven't got all bloody day!" Ron yelled.
"Ron, I can't..." she replied.
"Hermione," Harry began, "It can't be that bad! We've already seen you at your worst, and that was in second year when you were half a cat! It can't be any more horrible than that!"
"Yeah," Ron pipped in from around a large tree, "And we've shown you ours. Blimey, I can't believe that you're a stag, Harry! Just like your dad!"
"I was hoping it would be the stag," Harry said, quite obviously pleased with himself, "Now come on, Hermione! It can't be any more embarrassing that Ron's. He's a bloody unicorn for crying out loud!"
"Watch it Harry, or I'll run you through with this here horn, and we'll see how funny it is," Ron replied angrily.
"If you don't come out from behind those trees, Hermione. We'll just come find you. Come on, we're your best friends!" Harry said, as he walked closer toward where she stood.
"Fine!" Hermione yelled. "It's just...it's just that the form is all wrong for me! I don't understand!" she said, as she finally came around the side of a gnarled tree.
Harry and Ron's mouths both hit the floor.
"Bloody hell, Hermione," Ron said.
"Hermione, you're a...you're a..."
"I know!" she screamed, cutting Harry off. "How can it be! It's all wrong!"
"Hermione, it's bloody brilliant!" Ron cried, as he walked closer towards her.
Harry nodded, in agreement, "The form chose you, perfectly, Hermione. Now it's up to you to learn to use it."
"Hermione! Hello, earth to Hermione! Is there anyone in there?" Draco's voice asked as Hermione shook herself back into reality.
"Err...sorry," she said as she looked up at him.
"Where'd you go?" he asked, bemused.
Hermione was silent for a moment, "Back to when Harry, Ron and I first joined the Order, and were trained how to become Animagi."
"Oh," Draco said, quietly.
There was a tangible silence between them.
"Did you...er...I mean," Draco began as he looked at the stone floor, "...did you love him? Weas - er...Ron, I mean?"
Surprised by the question, Hermione looked up, startled into his ashen eyes.
"I mean, you don't have to answer, of course, I was just...I mean...I'm sorry, I shouldn't have..."
"Yes," said Hermione, simply.
"Oh," Draco said, again.
Silence.
"Were you," he began again, "...in love with him?"
Again, silence.
"Yes."
Draco nodded, as he searched her eyes before turning his head away.
"I'm sorry. I can't even imagine - "
But Hermione cut him off, "It's okay."
And then she didn't know why she did it.
She had never spoken of Ron before to anyone - not even Harry. Maybe a part of her wanted to protect Harry from it - he was, after all, Ron's best friend. But since Ron's death, Hermione had never spoken of her feelings, had never confided in anyone - and suddenly, now more than ever, she felt that her chest would explode if she didn't say something.
"It's okay," Hermione said, again as she sat on the stool near the cauldron, "It's really...it's not so bad anymore."
Draco looked at her, puzzled.
"It's kind of like," Hermione began as she looked at the bandage on her arm, "...like a horrible wound in the beginning. The pain is so real, and so intense, that it feels as though you won't even be able to breathe again. You can't catch your breath...almost as though...everything is on fire, and all that you can hope for is to never feel anything, ever again."
Draco frowned as she continued to pick at her bandage.
"But after awhile...the wound isn't quite as deep. It still hurts, but nothing like how it did in the beginning. You feel this dull throb that always hitches up at the most inopportune times...when someone mentions their name, when you pass something familiar...when you hear their favorite joke...It's just like when you bump your arm, and you're reminded of that pain that didn't really happen all that long ago."
Hermione finally looked up to find Draco's eyes.
"And then, I imagine, that the pain eventually fades. You still have the memories, and all that you can remember is the good - never the bad. Because that's the way you want to remember them. And finally, after everything, all that you're left with.." she pulled at her bandage, "...is a scar."
Draco's eyes never left Hermione's.
In one graceful moment, he closed the distance between them, pulled Hermione off the stool, and embraced her. He closed his eyes as his face buried into her hair, "I am so sorry," he said.
Hermione's brow was furrowed in confusion against Draco's broad chest. This action of affection certainly wasn't how she expected him react.
But what had she expected?
For him to smirk and say, "Tough luck"?
No. That would have been Malfoy.
This was Draco.
"Hey," Hermione said, as she pulled away from him, "Hey. It's okay. I've come this far, haven't I? I've gotten through it. And I will continue on. I've got to go on with my life. I've got to keep moving. Voldemort is still out there. I can't just lie here and play dead. Now is the time."
Draco brushed a loose strand of Hermione's thick hair behind her ear.
"Now is the time," she said again, firmly.
He nodded.
"Yes it is. Now is the time we face our past, our fears, and the future. And speaking of fears..." he trailed off.
Hermione looked up at him, in confusion.
"Your Animagus. Whatever it is, I know that it frightened you."
"Yes," she confirmed.
"Show me," Draco asked, quietly.
Hermione looked as though she was fighting some inner turmoil.
"Please, show me," Draco said, again.
Hermione nodded as she stepped back from him. She walked with her head bent to the far corner of the room.
"Harry and Ron were the only ones that ever saw," Hermione said as she turned so she was facing him.
"It's okay," Draco said, calmly.
She nodded, again.
Suddenly, there was a brilliant bright light that emanated from where Hermione was standing. Draco's vision was obscured, and he put his hand in front of his face to shield his eyes from the light. When the light subsided and Draco's eyes finally adjusted, he looked at the space Hermione had just occupied.
Standing and staring right at him, was a griffin.
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