The Inspectorate for Elfish Labour Conditions
Chapter 4: Regarding Psychological Burdens
Music: Leta's Flashback, James Newton Howard (Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes Of Grindelwald)
When they reached the door to the drawing room, Malfoy stopped and bowed his head, his hand resting on the elegant door handle. "You can still change your mind, Granger."
"I know," Hermione quietly acknowledged him, registering the tension in his voice. He still hadn't opened the door.
"But you won't."
"No."
An involuntary sigh escaped him, and the tremble she heard in it wrenched Hermione's heart. This was as much of an agony for him as it was for her. She reached out and tentatively placed her hand on his, in silent persuasion for him to open the door.
Malfoy stiffened at the unexpected contact but didn't let go of the handle. Instead, he gave Hermione a sharp look. "I take it that I can't persuade you?"
"No, I need to do this." Hermione's eyes didn't avert, and as they stood there in the corridor, both of their hands resting on the door handle, she saw the guilt in his eyes. Silently, she waited for him to overcome the urge to keep the door closed, a bitter smile curling up the corners of her mouth upon seeing his struggle.
Finally, he nodded curtly and pushed down the door handle.
If one of the few students staying at Hogwarts over Christmas had been allowed to stay up after hours, they might have seen the young man and woman, both a bit too old to be attending Hogwarts anymore, wandering the castle's silent corridors. There was something natural about the Gryffindor and the Slytherin walking side by side, their dark figures casting long shadows on the mighty walls while torches which ignited at their quiet approach guided their way.
When they finally reached the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, the sound of the heavy doors closing behind them echoed through the empty space. Like they always did, Malfoy positioned himself in the back of the classroom, while Hermione quietly sat down on her desk and pulled her winter cloak closer around her. It was unpleasantly chilly in the unheated classroom, but Malfoy didn't seem to notice the cold.
Folding her hands underneath her chin, Hermione studied him as he resumed his practice of the Patronus Charm, closely watching his movements and the way he closed his eyes before each attempt, his features showing concentration and unbelievable willpower. His determination fascinated her, and she was anxious to know what progress he would be making tonight.
This third night of practice saw a promising start. The first two times Malfoy called the incantation, the familiar ribbon of light appeared, but the third time he suddenly managed to enlarge the puff of light and make it a perfect, glowing orb. The moment this happened, he froze in shock. Hermione straightened up, her eyes glistening with anticipation. A drop of sweat rolled down his temple as Malfoy managed to maintain the ball of light for a minute before it petered out.
The development invigorated Malfoy. Pursing his lips, the Slytherin immediately raised his wand and called determinedly, "Expecto Patronum!" Another glowing orb shot from his wand, even brighter than the first one.
Hermione regarded his efforts with silent admiration. In less than two nights, Malfoy had managed to produce an actual start to a full-bodied Patronus. He'd been offered a chance and he had seized it with both hands. She watched as Malfoy struggled to keep the glowing orb going, but finally he had to admit defeat. It would be the last time that evening he would succeed in creating one. The classroom grew dark as the orb disappeared, but he had made fantastic progress again.
Hermione beamed at him and felt a little bit warmer when he responded with a small smile in return.
Purple.
The colour that marked her nightmares and haunted her waking hours. The colour which she had avoided wearing ever since. The colour she'd wilfully sought out to confront today. Hermione felt a little dizzy as she watched Malfoy finally open the door. From what seemed like an enormous distance, she heard him say something about his mother having redecorated the room, after... It sounded like an apology and she vaguely wondered what he was apologising for.
It felt like she was floating as Hermione followed Malfoy inside. The pounding of blood in her ears was the only link between her and her numb body. Her breathing quickened as she was finally able to take in her surroundings. At least three times a week since that fateful night, she'd been haunted by nightmares about this room where the torture had taken place - and now she'd gone back. Back to the source of her constant agony, hoping to finally put these demons to rest. But she didn't recognise it.
Disoriented, Hermione turned around as a fierce tremble wracked her body. The colour surrounding her was a gentle light blue. The memory of an enormous black marble fireplace had anchored itself in her recollection of that night, but when her eyes looked for it, trying to find something familiar in these unfamiliar surroundings, she saw that it had been replaced by a much more delicate white one.
Hermione stumbled back and her eyes were drawn upward. The large chandelier that used to hang from the ceiling was gone.
Of course, Hermione knew that Dobby had destroyed the drawing room while freeing the people imprisoned in the secret room below. However she had somehow expected the Malfoy family to be so conservative that they would have restored the room to its former state. Hermione turned around, looking for something - anything - that would have survived the destruction as panic engulfed her. She didn't notice that tears had begun streaming down her cheeks.
A small sound turned her attention to the window, through which the darkness of early evening seemed as bottomless as the hole in her heart. Her breathing had become ragged, harsh sounds in and out, as she focused her bleary eyes on the silhouette of someone standing next to the silk curtains. He looked at her with a sombre look on his face.
Vaguely, she remembered that he had been standing there six years ago, in the exact same spot. Draco Malfoy.
The memory struck Hermione with the power of a lightning bolt. The breaches of her conscience shattered with unexpected force. Then the floodgates of her mind were opened. She was hit violently by excruciating memories that she'd managed to keep locked away for six long years, except for the times she was sleeping. An excruciating pain echoed through her body, just like the sound of someone laughing maniacally.
Horrified, Hermione stumbled back as the world began to spin around her. The shock was too violent, too big for her to handle, and consciousness started to slip through her fingers.
"No," Hermione whispered, knowing that she was fighting a lost battle. She felt her eyes roll backwards. The last thing she saw was the figure by the window rushing toward her. And as her eyelids fell shut she heard the echo of his voice calling, "Hermione!"
Then everything went dark.
On New Year's Eve, the enchanted ceiling in the Great Hall was already preluding the midnight fireworks during dinner, but the two oldest students, however, weren't there to witness it. This would be the last evening they could practice, and Hermione wanted to have an early start, even before bedtime curfew. Over the past couple of days, Malfoy had been working unbelievably hard and eventually succeeded in both maintaining and enlarging the glowing orb, but so far a corporeal Patronus had remained beyond his reach. After the third time he'd seen the orb, which he'd so desperately been trying to solidify, disappearing, he growled in frustration, wiping glistening sweat from his forehead.
"This is very advanced magic, Malfoy, and we have had very little time to practice," Hermione stressed from the school desk. She was already wearing the elegant witch robes meant for the festivities later that evening. "You're already a much faster learner than most of the others."
It was hardly an encouragement so much as a simple statement of the facts. Malfoy only grimaced in disbelief before he slid into stance with renewed vigour. At an impressive pace, he produced another series of glowing orbs, each one smaller than the last one until he wearily lowered his wand. Trying to catch his breath, Malfoy leaned against the dusty blackboard and looked at Hermione with glazed eyes, on his features the growing realisation that there was no use in continuing. He was simply too tired. All these evenings practicing had drawn heavily on his energy.
With a grimace he lifted his wand for the last time and summoned his memory. "Expecto Patronum!"
The classroom was immediately bathed in a soft glow caused by the well known orb. Malfoy stared at it intently, obviously hoping to see it take any form until he jerked down his wand and put his hands before his eyes. With a choked sound he slumped down to the ground as a pained growl escaped him.
"I can't do it. It just won't work. What was I thinking?" His voice, rough from anguish, echoed through the empty classroom. "What-was-I-thinking?" he repeated through clenched teeth as he curled his hands into fists and pressed them against his bowed head.
Hermione watched in sadness as Malfoy's wand clattered down onto the ground. A paragon of defeat. Even in the old days, Hermione had never seen him lose control like this. Harry had once told her about the time he'd walked in on Malfoy crying. Only now could she imagine what the Slytherin would have looked like. The sight broke her heart. He had been so determined, so motivated to learn. She had seen the self-loathing in his eyes each time he'd failed to create a corporeal Patronus. And now he seemed to have lost all hope of ever mastering the skill. Hermione felt disappointed, too. She had so hoped that he would succeed, but at the same time, she'd known that the goal they'd set had been extremely difficult to achieve.
She folded her arms before her chest and heaved a sigh. "Perhaps you should reconsider your happy memory."
Malfoy's head jerked up. "That's impossible!" he snarled, his face contorted with anger.
"Why?" Hermione demanded, ignoring his bitter words. "Perhaps if you'll allow yourself to take a step back, there's another memory that might..."
"No!" he lashed out against her. His normally cool eyes were blazing with fury and sparkles shot from his wand. "You have no idea what you're talking about, Granger!"
Hermione fell silent and bowed her head. "I guess not."
Malfoy only stared at her, his rage slowly leaving his features as he saw Hermione's defeated reaction. Finally, he closed his eyes and heaved a bitter sigh. Hermione didn't notice the remorse on his face as he, too, looked down at the ground.
"I have no other memory that works as good as this one," he confessed softly, his hoarse voice laced with a sour tone. This part of the charm had still made him feel uncomfortably vulnerable.
Hermione nodded somewhat dejectedly - she had expected as much. "Perhaps we'll find a way to practice next semester," she tried, but her voice betrayed her doubt. The day after tomorrow the school would flock with students again, and it would simply be impossible to meet up with Malfoy without anyone noticing it. Neither wanted that to happen. There was nothing to it. They had tried but, in the end, they had to acknowledge that attempting to teach Malfoy the Patronus spell in merely four days had been too ambitious of a plan.
Sadness wrenched Hermione's heart as Malfoy rose to his feet in a surprisingly dignified manner given his current state and turned away from her. Fixing his eyes on the windows, he withdrew into himself. He clearly needed to be alone to come to terms with his disappointment.
Hermione bit her lip, withstanding the urge to go to him. The best thing she could do right now was also the hardest thing. She quietly slid down the school desk and crossed the classroom. Upon reaching the door, she cast a last look at the Slytherin. Malfoy's silhouette stood out against the cold moonlight. It was the unapproachable statue of a disappointed young man, gazing inwardly, who saw yet another failure added to the collection.
Then the door closed behind her.
"…wake up! ...hear me? Wake up, Hermione!"
The peaceful surroundings gently cushioning Hermione were roughly disturbed by an anguished voice, urgently calling out to her.
"Hermione… Wake up!"
She groaned softly, reluctant to obey the demanding voice and return from the soothing nothing. Vaguely, she wondered why the familiar voice called her Hermione. The person she knew who belonged to that voice would never call her by her first name, but instead would use...
"Granger!"
That was it. Granger. Hermione's eyes fluttered open and stared into a pair of grey ones very close by that raged with worry, fury, relief, and something she couldn't quite pin down. Captivated, she kept her gaze focused on those eyes as she slowly became aware of her surroundings. Then she noticed that the person belonging to those eyes held her in his arms and kept her half upright with her head leaning against his upper arm.
"Please, Hermione. Say something if you can hear me. Are you awake?"
There was that name again. Hermione. The blond man holding her in his arms really must be worried about her. Otherwise, he would have never let her come so close to him. She could almost touch his face.
Hermione opened her mouth with difficulty. "You're not wearing black," she whispered the first thing that came to mind.
His eyebrows lifted in surprise at her answer, but then his face lit up with relief. A small smirk momentarily tugged at his mouth. "Does that bother you?" he asked softly, and Hermione thought she noticed the hint of amusement in his voice.
For a moment, she only took in the sight of his eyes looking down on her with something resembling tenderness until she had to close hers. Suddenly, she felt exhausted. She shook her head against his arm. "No, you look less scary this way."
His grip on her tightened at her response. Then his warm hand gently cupped her cheek, guiding her head to rest on his shoulder. Before she drifted to sleep she heard him say in a strange voice, "I'm glad."
To celebrate the transition of the old year into the new one, the teachers had prepared a brilliant fireworks for the students to watch on the Fourth Floor Balcony, preceded by a lavish dinner. They had spared no expense to make the celebration a memorable one.
Hermione silently picked at her meal that evening, unable to work up interest for the festive dinner the house-elves had produced, and not participating in the excited chatter around her. Malfoy hadn't shown up for dinner and, although she wasn't surprised, the fact that his seat next to her remained empty didn't do much to improve her mood. While pushing around her food on the gold platter, she found herself studying the small Slytherin boy sitting next to the two Ravenclaws and the Hufflepuff. Whatever it was that had the boy so upset a couple of days ago, Malfoy must have done a good job of reassuring him. He seemed satisfied and happy as he chatted with the other students. It was scant comfort.
About a quarter to twelve, the small group of teachers and students headed for the balcony, with Hermione lagging behind. Within those fifteen minutes, fireworks would be ushering in the first virgin year following Voldemort's defeat. But Hermione couldn't bring herself to care. When she arrived outside, she chose a place near the parapet and stared at the grounds below where Hagrid had placed hundreds of torches that flickered in the icy wind.
As snow clung to her curls and eyelashes, Hermione's disheartened thoughts drifted to Malfoy once again. If only he had succeeded in creating a corporeal Patronus, this would have confirmed his new allegiance to the Light Side. But despite his spectacular progress he hadn't, and Hermione couldn't help but feel she had failed not only him, but all the loved ones she had lost during the war, by failing to show Malfoy the light. Malfoy was definitely a very talented wizard, but mastering the art of casting a full-bodied Patronus in such a short amount of time was something that hadn't even been asked from Harry to accomplish. Nevertheless, Hermione had wanted him to succeed nearly as bad as he did, as his strive to master the spell had also become hers.
Pulling her scarf more tightly around her, Hermione watched as the gleeful teachers prepared themselves to start their show, when suddenly a school-owl landed before Hermione and stuck out his claw to her. Baffled, Hermione blinked, wondering why she would be receiving a message at this time. But the owl was looking at her intently, so she detached the small note and carefully unfolded it. Then her eyes widened and she took a few steps back.
The teachers didn't notice when one of their students quietly left the balcony.
As the old year held its breath while the new one had yet to arrive with triumphant bangs and brilliant streaks of fire, Hermione opened the door to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom.
"I'm here," she called quietly. Her voice echoed through the dark classroom. "You wanted to show me something?"
The blond Slytherin standing in front of the blackboard turned around. Malfoy only looked at her with a strange expression in his eyes that caused something to flutter in her stomach. Then he gave a small nod. It was her cue to sit down at her usual spot by the blackboard. The Slytherin closed his eyes in a way which, strangely enough, suggested defeat and, as the night sky outside exploded in radiant colours, he called, "Expecto Patronum!"
Hermione didn't know what to expect at hearing the familiar incantation she'd heard him repeat so many times before, but it certainly was not the glowing animal bursting from Malfoy's wand. Her mouth dropped when suddenly a small animal jumped across the classroom. Dumbstruck, she stared at the Patronus - because that's what it was. An actual, corporeal Patronus cast by Draco Malfoy. Had it been merely hours ago that she had left Malfoy in this classroom, facing utter despair as he finally had to acknowledge he hadn't been able to master the spell over the holidays?
Euphoria washed over her. She jumped from the desk. "You did it! You actually did it!"
Perhaps Malfoy thought that she would fling her arms around his neck, because he stepped back and nodded in an uncharacteristically shy way. Hermione's excitement sobered a little, and she averted her gaze to study the Patronus as it jumped around them with striking flexibility.
"This is brilliant. This is absolutely brilliant..." she whispered with pure admiration. "But exactly what species is it...?" Her eyebrows furrowed as she contemplated the Patronus' small, lithe body, the thick tail and the slender snout. Then her eyes widened. "It's a…"
"A ferret. I know," Malfoy cut her off, adding bitterly, "Rather ironic, don't you think?"
His sharp gaze betrayed that he braced himself for Hermione's reaction to his Patronus, which had taken the form of the animal Barty Crouch Jr. had turned him into during his fourth year. But Hermione would never think of mocking him. Instead, she reached out to the ferret-shaped Patronus.
"Actually, it fits you," was her gentle opinion. "A ferret is an agile and resourceful predator and a brilliant Seeker."
The Patronus sat up and curiously sniffed her hand. The corners of Hermione's mouth curled up in a wistful smile. "It's also related to the otter."
The Slytherin didn't get the time to ponder why she had included this specific piece of information because his Patronus suddenly climbed up Hermione's arm towards her shoulders and sniffed her cheek.
Hermione giggled softly. "Oh look, I think he likes me."
Malfoy, however, looked on in absolute horror as his Patronus affectionately curled itself around her neck and rested its small head underneath her chin. He raised his wand to extinguish the silver ferret but suddenly found himself unable to do so when Hermione's eyes lit up. Inconspicuously, he stepped back into the shadows and a longing expression appeared on his features as he watched Hermione tenderly caressing the Patronus' lithe body. Not after a long moment, he managed to whisper, "Finite Incantatem."
Hermione didn't notice the tremble in his voice and said gently, "That was wonderful, Malfoy. Well done." And her heart skipped a beat when a small smile formed on his lips.
"Thank you, Granger. For teaching me."
Hermione drifted from calm seas of darkness to restless whirlwinds of memories blending purple and light blue drawing rooms. Her only anchor was the silhouette of a young man standing behind the curtains to which she clung for dear life. Sometimes, she managed to escape the clutches of her memories and graze the surface of her consciousness. One time, she felt how strong arms gently lowered her down on a soft bed and covered her with a downy duvet. Then, she'd felt how smooth fingers brushed a strand of hair from her face, the warm hand lingering on her cheek longer than necessary, before she sank into deeper levels of unconsciousness again. Another time, she heard muffled voices speaking in agitated pitches. Hermione recognised the slight drawl in the male voice, but she also heard an affected voice belonging to a woman. Before she was able to understand what they were arguing about, she sank back into oblivion again.
The next thing she noticed was someone gently shaking her shoulder. "Wake up, Hermione," a voice sounded close to her ear. "You have to go."
Her eyes shot open and she looked straight into a pair of grey eyes raging with worry, scrutinising her anxiously. As it appeared, she was lying on a bed and Malfoy was leaning over her with his hands placed next to her on both of her sides, his face mere inches from hers. Her breath hitched.
"Why?" she whispered in response, the first thing she said, and he pulled back a little. An odd pang of disappointment shot through her stomach.
"Because your inspectors are waiting for you, and it's almost evening. You're expected home soon," Malfoy said without his usual sneer. Instead, his voice only conveyed worry and perhaps something else, too. Was it regret?
Hermione's fuzzy mind tried to process this information as Malfoy straightened up and, much to her relief, sat down at her bedside. Somehow, she couldn't bear the idea that he would leave her now. He showed no intention of doing that, however. Instead, he kept watching her closely.
"Where am I?" she finally asked, looking around in the luxuriant bedroom she didn't recognise.
"In one of the guest rooms. Your male inspector and I carried you here, after you fainted," Malfoy replied evenly.
Hermione gasped in dismay. She had been so sure that she could cope with confronting the drawing room of her nightmares. But she had been wrong. She had collapsed and had put Draco Malfoy, whose steps were already watched like a hawk because of his past, in a very difficult situation. Ashamed, she turned her head away and squeezed her eyes shut. "I'm sorry. I can understand if you're mad with me," she said softly.
For a moment, Malfoy seemed confused. Then he shook his head. "I'm mad with myself," he said a bit grimly. "I should have never let you go into that drawing room again."
That had probably been what the fight in the hallway had been about, Hermione guessed. She could understand Mrs. Malfoy's dismay with the situation and realising this only added to the regret she already felt.
"Do you think you feel well enough to sit up?"
Hermione nodded wordlessly, and Malfoy leaned forward. Trustingly, she put her head on his shoulder and subconsciously inhaled his scent as he pulled her up. It slightly resembled the soap from the Prefect's bathroom she'd smelled on him before, only more subtle. Somehow, it had a calming effect on her.
"Here, drink this. It will make you feel better." He reached toward the bedside table and picked up a glass filled with some kind of potion. Hermione obediently took the glass from him and drank. A warm feeling spread through her stomach.
"How are you feeling?" he asked, looking at her intently.
Taken aback by the fierce look in his eyes, Hermione lowered her gaze as a blush rushed to her cheeks. "Better," she exaggerated it, trying to suppress the dizziness coming up again.
Malfoy seemed to believe her, though, because he nodded. "Good. You have some colour returning to your face, I see."
He got up but when he turned around, Hermione grabbed his forearm. "Wait. You didn't contact Ron or Harry, didn't you?"
Malfoy looked down on her hand holding onto him, and some extra colour was added to the blush on Hermione's cheeks as she hastily let go of him.
"No. I'd rather Side-Along Apparate you home than have Weasley standing at my door," he replied a bit coldly. He seemed to contemplate the idea for a moment because a bitter smile appeared on his features before he straightened up. "Your inspectors are waiting for you in the library. You've trained them well, I must say. They wouldn't hear of leaving you behind."
Hermione smiled weakly and tried to get up. Her legs trembled when she pushed them out of bed and was too wobbly to notice that Malfoy had taken her elbows to support her. When she finally stood, a triumphant smile formed on her lips but then a white, blinding pain shot through her head and she winced. "Ow!"
"Careful now. It will pass," she heard Malfoy say from somewhere above her as she lowered her aching head.
He was right. The warm potion in her stomach had already started to clear her head and strengthen her muscles. The spinning feeling subsided, and Hermione looked up at Malfoy with a shaky smile. "I think I'm all right now. Please, don't bother with bringing me home. I should be fine, and I have my inspectors…"
"No," Malfoy responded simply. "You're not all right. The potion I gave you merely provides you with just enough strength to be able to Side-Along Disapparate. We're not allowed to keep anything stronger in the house."
Hermione's face darkened at his words, but he disregarded it as he continued, "You're exhausted because of what happened, and because it happened at my house, I won't just let you go off alone with your inspectors."
Hermione closed her eyes and nodded, too tired to argue. She felt horribly guilty for the situation she'd put him in. "You're becoming a real Gryffindor, Malfoy," she whispered, "for going through all this trouble for me."
"Please!" he scoffed, but his eyes betrayed his amusement as he replaced his hands from her elbows to her shoulders, turning her toward the door. "The Apparition Room is not too far away," he apologised.
Easter was soon to arrive at Hogwarts when Ginny failed to attend Potions class again, this time for tryouts with the Holyhead Harpies. The Potions classroom was littered with painted eggs and roaming yellow chicks, giving the gloomy place an oddly cheerful look, when Hermione entered the classroom and started to unpack her bag.
There was a strange feeling of anticipation as she waited for class to begin. Hermione hadn't spoken to Malfoy since the Patronus lessons had ended. They had returned to their own lives, which had always been worlds apart, and the lessons had become a distant memory, almost like a dream that had never really happened. Whenever they would run into each other, they merely nodded in polite greeting, and Hermione soon realised she missed talking to him.
One time during Charms class, Ginny had whispered behind her hand, "Why are you staring at Malfoy, Hermione?"
Hermione shot up, startled. "Am I?"
Just like in all of the classes he attended, the eighth year Slytherin was sitting alone in a desk at the front, opposite from where Professor Flitwick, oblivious to his distracted students, was busy explaining a charm to them. Indeed, she'd been watching Malfoy as he was taking notes.
Ginny nodded meaningfully. "Yes, you are. Leave the poor man alone, Hermione. He's done nothing wrong to you," she jokingly admonished her.
Hermione rolled her eyes at her, secretly glad that she'd misinterpreted her stare. Because there was no use denying it. She knew that her gaze often wandered to Malfoy during classes. His serious expression and the dedication he showed when performing the instructed magic brought back memories of those intangible days around Christmas when they had wandered the hallways of Hogwarts at night and practiced advanced magic in the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. She started to hope for another opportunity to be partnered up with Malfoy during Potions class. Come Easter, her silent wish was finally granted.
Hermione's heart made a strange leap in her chest when Malfoy's tall figure appeared in the doorway and he immediately headed for her desk. As he sat down next to her, she couldn't suppress an amused grin. News travelled fast. She stole a sideways look at him. Malfoy's normally stony features actually held a hint of interest as he put out his wand next to hers and cast a quick glance at her.
"Granger."
"Malfoy," she smiled and to her surprise, he swiftly returned it. And as she reached for her textbook, the ridiculous thought crossed her mind that maybe he'd been looking forward to this moment as well, which made her happier than she was prepared to admit.
Patiently, the Gryffindor and the Slytherin waited for Professor Slughorn to come over and give instructions on an alternative potion to brew. However, the professor pointedly ignored them as he instructed his NEWT-students and then opened The Daily Prophet. When after several minutes the professor hadn't even begun to look in their direction, Malfoy drawled in a low voice, "You scared him off, Granger."
"Apparently," Hermione snorted, shaking her head in amusement as she reached for her textbook. "Well then…shall we make the choice for the professor, then?"
Within a few minutes, they had picked a potion which sounded to both of their liking and they quietly fell into their working routine. Soon enough, the liquid swirling in their student cauldron gained a colour of brilliant magenta, and they sat back in their narrow school desk, waiting for Professor Slughorn to muster his courage and collect his precious potion. It was a peaceful moment in which neither of them said anything. Having grown accustomed to the feeling of their limbs touching, they had stopped trying pulling back from the other a long time ago.
From the corner of her eye, Hermione studied the Slytherin's profile - the light blond hair falling over his forehead, his sharp, aloof features, the slender, aristocratic hands resting patiently in his lap as he sat perfectly still next to her. True to his position among their classmates, he didn't try to engage in a conversation with her, and Hermione knew that she had to start. But after all these weeks of barely acknowledging each other, this suddenly seemed extremely difficult. As Hermione tried to find a way to begin, she noticed that he sometimes cast a wistful glance at the small cellar window near the arched ceiling, from where faint sounds of voices calling drifted into the classroom.
"Malfoy…" Hermione started hesitantly, but cut herself off when Professor Slughorn finally decided to inch closer. Disappointed, she sat back in their desk.
It was then that the small window above the eighth years crashed into thousands of pieces. A screeching sound penetrated Hermione's ears, and automatically she cowered when suddenly she felt the weight of a body shielding her from the razor sharp splinters showering down on her. Hermione gasped for air as a pair of strong arms circled around her, holding her tightly against a warm chest as the scent of soap from the Prefects' Bathroom reached her nose. Her eyes shot open and stared right into the heavily embroidered green and silver emblem of a snake on a black background. Her heart suddenly pounded in her chest.
"Can't breathe…" Hermione finally choked. The iron grip on her shoulders lessened immediately and she was pulled to her feet quickly. Then Malfoy shook the glass splinters from his robes and out of his blond hair. Somewhere in the otherwise dead quiet classroom, someone whistled. Malfoy's expression darkened in embarrassment, but then something distracted him and his eyes widened. Before Hermione was able to say something, he mouthed at her, 'wait.'
He hadn't even turned away yet when panic broke out among their classmates, and before Hermione registered what happened, Malfoy had already left their desk and was moving through the group of seventh-years with astounding agility. He lightly jumped on another desk and then swiftly grabbed something from the air. He then turned around on the desk, holding in his hand a winged, golden ball fighting to escape his determined grasp. The cause of all the trouble. A golden Snitch. The class fell silent at seeing the hated Slytherin's spectacular actions, apart from a few impressed whispers.
But Malfoy ignored them and stepped from the desk with an unintentionally elegant movement. He leisurely strolled back to where Hermione was sitting, put his hand on the weathered tabletop and leaned forward. Expertly, he closed the golden ball's wings.
"And Slytherin wins the game!" he smirked teasingly, his gaze challenging. His eyes were glistening as vividly as during that magical moment when he'd finally cast a full bodied Patronus, and an involuntary shiver ran down Hermione's spine.
Though the Quidditch Captains had been given permission by the Headmistress to select eighth years for their teams, for obvious reasons Slytherin had started the season with another, lesser talented Seeker than Malfoy, and Hermione suddenly realised that Malfoy missed playing Quidditch. It was perhaps his only passion, and he was good at it.
A sad smile appeared on her lips as she slightly tilted her head, her curls falling over her shoulder. "Thank you," she said simply, "for shielding me just now."
Malfoy's smirk faltered and he straightened up, nodding curtly. He started to pack his bag.
A lost feeling came over Hermione as the class around them was doing the same, whispering among themselves. "Malfoy…"
He looked up, a blank expression in his eyes.
"Well done. You really are a good Seeker," Hermione added quietly, and for a moment she saw in his softening expression the gaze she'd been looking for during the past double hour of Potions, mixed with feelings of pain and regret.
That was the moment Professor Slughorn sauntered over to them and gasped in dismay. "Oh no! My beautiful potion! It's completely spoiled!"
When Malfoy opened the door of the guest room, two very worried faces belonging to her inspectors appeared in Hermione's view. "Miss Granger! Are you all right? What happened?" asked her female colleague, having heard from her colleague how he'd helped the owner of the house carry an unconscious Hermione to this guest room.
Hermione instinctively grabbed Malfoy's arm as she collected her whirling thoughts. "I passed out," she said simply. "Draco and I were talking about our Hogwarts days when I fainted. Perhaps I should have finished my sandwich during lunch."
She didn't dare to look up at the blond man supporting her, but she had felt his body flinch at her mentioning of his first name. He didn't comment on it, though, and she let out a breath of relief, inwardly wondering why she had done it anyway. She wasn't sure. In part, she'd wanted to reassure the inspectors of Malfoy's good intentions and in part, it seemed right somehow.
The inspectors looked at each other doubtfully, but to Hermione's silent gratitude, Malfoy prevented further questions as he said tersely, "The Apparition Room is right ahead. Please, follow me."
The Apparition Room was a small room - a closet really - located at the end of the hallway. It had white plastered walls and no windows. As she entered the small room, Hermione tried suppressing a new wave of dizziness threatening to wash over her. She held her hand clasped around Malfoy's arm as his other hand rested on her shoulder, stabilising her. Having accepted that the inspectors weren't about to leave their colleague behind, Malfoy curtly instructed them as the female inspector closed the door.
"We're Disapparating to The Burrow. From there, you can go wherever you see fit." His gaze softened somewhat when he turned to Hermione and added in a low voice, "I think it's best you hold onto me entirely, so we won't risk you letting go of my arm and getting Splinched."
"I'd rather not," Hermione tiredly agreed. After a moment of hesitation, she wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head against his shoulder. Shyly, she pressed herself against him. Colour rushed to her cheeks when she felt his breath hitch slightly. She hoped he didn't feel how her heartbeat quickened in response to his closeness.
Then he wrapped his arms around her shoulders, pulling her tightly against him. Stars appeared behind Hermione's eyes and it felt as if the world disappeared around them. The only thing remaining was the feeling of Malfoy's arms holding her and the warmth of his body supporting hers. The blood pounded in her ears as Hermione realised nothing had never felt so right. And also terribly unnerving.
Her eyes closed involuntarily when he lightly rested his chin on the top of her head and with a forceful jerk, they Disapparated from Malfoy Manor.
Summer arrived at Hogwarts, bringing hot days and warm, lazy nights, and the NEWT-students were soon expected to be reduced to mere shadows of themselves as they began studying for the most important exams in their lives. The last match of the Quidditch season, Gryffindor against Ravenclaw, would take place next Saturday. And when she arrived at Potions class from Ancient Runes, Hermione found out that Malfoy had already taken place in her desk. Her face lit up at the sight. Since Easter, she'd been hoping for one last double hour of Potions with Malfoy, and perhaps he felt that way too. Pausing in her steps, Hermione took a moment to watch him. He was reading notes with a concentrated expression on his face as the sun lit up his blond hair. A smile appeared on Hermione's lips. Most students were not expecting to receive instruction anymore this close to examination week, but Malfoy clearly was prepared for them to brew Professor Slughorn one last potion.
Hermione quietly sat down next to Malfoy as the hot summer air brushed her skin through the open window above them.
"I was thinking that we may give Professor Slughorn a parting-gift," he said without looking up. "Since our last potion didn't work out for him." His even voice held a slight hint of amusement and something else she couldn't quite pinpoint. Was it regret?
Hermione looked at the tin cauldron in front of them, feeling sad. As their final year was drawing to an end and their NEWT-examinations would soon commence, the time was inevitably coming closer in which they would go their separate ways. This would be their last collaboration over Potions class and the last time she could enjoy his quiet intelligence and calm attentiveness to their work. Hermione felt the tears prick behind her eyes as she nodded wordlessly and took her Potions textbook from her bag.
"That would be a good idea," she agreed a bit hoarsely.
Professor Slughorn didn't enter the classroom until after the Gryffindor and the Slytherin had already started preparing ingredients for their potion. He had been a little late, expecting his NEWT-students to be in an exuberant and not too productive mood. Therefore, he was surprised to see his eighth year students bowed over a steaming cauldron. The sight of the two young adults stuck in their cramped school desk had become his favourite over the year and, despite himself, a hopeful expression lit up his face. It was then that Hermione and Malfoy suddenly looked up and smirked at him. Hastily, Professor Slughorn averted his gaze and hurried over to his desk, disappearing behind his newspaper.
Almost two hours later, Hermione quietly read the last instruction and watched as Malfoy efficiently brushed the nightshade from his silver knife and into the cauldron. The brew in the cauldron started to whirl around in a glistening vapour, like it had done all those times before.
"So," Malfoy asked tentatively as they stared into the cauldron, their heads mere inches from each other, "what are you going to do, when you leave Hogwarts?"
Startled, Hermione looked up. She wasn't expecting a question, let alone such a personal one, from him. She wasn't sure, though, if he was interested to hear her plans for the future. For a moment, she hesitated. She hadn't told anyone about her ambitions yet, and she expected Malfoy to be the least understanding of all. But she had never been one to avoid a question.
"I would like to work in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, to improve the lives of house-elves," she confessed softly, bracing herself for his reaction. But whatever snide reaction she expected, it didn't come. Instead, he only nodded dejectedly, and Hermione asked gingerly, "And you?"
The breath he let out resembled a silent sigh when he replied, "I don't know. Return to Wiltshire, I guess." He didn't sound too happy about it, and Hermione recalled what he'd said earlier that year. 'Anything to get away from home.'
She realised that he probably envied her for being able to pursue her own career. And being one third of the Golden Trio, her prospects were expected to be brilliant. She had the world at her feet, whereas he wasn't expected to work for a living, what with his father still being the wealthiest wizard in all of western Europe. For him, there was no escaping the surely tense and embittered atmosphere of home.
Malfoy's voice then pulled her from her thoughts. "Listen, Granger. Since this probably will be the last time we'll ever speak to each other, I'll say this now." He drew in a shallow breath as he kept his eyes trained on the magenta brew in the cauldron. He wasn't used to putting himself in a vulnerable position. "I want to thank you. Despite the things I've done to you and your friends before, you were the only one in school to be civil with me this year and…I…I appreciate that. You've made this year bearable for me."
He cast a bitter look at the seventh year Gryffindor and Slytherin students who were busy biding their time with talking and laughing.
Hermione followed his gaze. "I have no reason to treat you the way they do," she responded softly. "You saved us, and your mother saved Harry, and for that I'm forever grateful." Her honest reply made Malfoy's features harden.
"Saved you…" he repeated whisperingly, and his grey eyes filled with anguish. It evoked memories of pain Hermione was not prepared to think about right now. She looked up at the ceiling, fighting against the tears welling up.
"We haven't always been easy on you, either, Malfoy," she said in a low voice to prevent it from turning hoarse.
"Well, that's absolutely true," Malfoy sneered in his familiar way, but it didn't sound convincing.
They fell silent as the sound of the boisterous class around them screeched in their ears. Their heads bowed dejectedly, they waited for Professor Slughorn to collect his potion, knowing that this was the last time they would be crammed in the small school desk together, their arms and legs pressed against the other's. When the Potions teacher finally found their desk, they simultaneously rose to their feet and for the last time their eyes met. In Malfoy's, Hermione read the same regret she was feeling.
He extended his hand. "Good luck on your exams, Granger."
Carefully, she placed her hand in his and he shook it slowly. "You too, Malfoy. It's been nice working with you."
Long after his hand had let go of hers, she felt the gentle touch of his fingers curled around hers as each of them had gone their separate ways - Hermione to the Gryffindor Tower and Malfoy to the Slytherin Dungeon. Worlds apart.
They graduated with an Outstanding for their Potions NEWT.
At the graduation ceremony, Malfoy stiffly accepted his diploma scroll, accompanied by a meagre applause from the audience. He'd finished second behind Hermione. She hoped that he noticed that her applause for him was sincere as he returned to his seat next to her on the front row. The Malfoys left as soon as the ceremony had ended, not staying for the graduation banquet. With a melancholic gaze Hermione watched them go, but before they disappeared into the Entrance Hall, Malfoy turned around and it seemed like he nodded to her ever so slightly. The next moment, he was gone.
The Burrow was already shrouded in darkness when the two inspectors, Malfoy, and Hermione arrived at the Weasley family home. Hermione recognised the smell of freshly prepared food coming from the kitchen.
"You can let go now, Granger," she heard Malfoy's voice from above. "We've arrived at The Burrow."
He sounded a bit worried. Hermione struggled to open one eye and discovered that she was still clinging to Malfoy like a life-buoy. Flustered, she dropped her hands and the back of his expensive jacket fell from her fingers, crumpled, as she stepped back.
"Sorry," she mumbled, swaying a bit. His hands immediately shot out to support her. "Thanks." Her embarrassment couldn't be any bigger.
"You should say something to the inspectors. They're waiting to hear it's all right for them to go home," Malfoy encouraged her under his breath and nodded inconspicuously at some point behind her.
With difficulty, Hermione turned around and did her best to produce a reassuring smile. A few moments later, the inspectors Disapparated with a light pop after they'd cast a last doubtful look at Malfoy. He didn't seem to care, though, as he kept his gaze trained on Hermione. Worry simmered in his eyes when she bowed her head, her face pale.
"I can take you to the fence. Do you think you'll manage from there?"
Hermione grimaced and nodded. Malfoy obviously didn't want to get caught carrying a half-conscious Granger to The Burrow. And he was right. She looked up at him. His hair looked almost silver in the light of the waning moon. Something softened in his expression as he scrutinised her clammy face. His gaze reminded her of their time at Hogwarts, when fate and Professor Slughorn had crammed them in a small desk at Potions class, and something fluttered in her stomach.
"Malfoy," she started weakly without knowing what she wanted to say to him. The only thing she knew was that he would disappear the moment they'd reached the Weasleys' disorderly front yard across from the woods currently shielding them from sight. And she was strangely reluctant for that moment to come.
"Yes?" His gaze was mostly unreadable but for a slight hint of interest.
"Thank you for letting me see the drawing room. It may not seem like it, but I really am very glad that you did."
Malfoy nodded silently, though Hermione sensed that he didn't completely agree with her. "I hope you'll get rid of those nightmares now." His gaze, full of regret, showed what he had left unspoken.
Hermione swallowed. During their repeated seventh year at Hogwarts, he had somewhat lowered his guard to her and had shown her a different side of him. She had been surprised to discover that he was an intelligent, sensitive person with an unusual perceptiveness for the world around him. Someone who, against his Slytherin nature, had placed himself between her and danger two times now. Someone who unknowingly had become the centre of her silent fascination during that final year at the wizarding school.
"I hope so, too," Hermione whispered tiredly. She really wanted to remember Malfoy in another way than in her frightful dreams of that night. Something stronger than herself made her stand on her tiptoes and put her hand on his chest. An expression of surprise passed over his reserved features, but he didn't step back. Then she closed her eyes and pressed a gentle kiss on his cheek. Her lips were met with smoothly shaven skin, cooled by the wintry cold, and a jolt of electricity shot through her core at the feeling.
The moment Hermione's lips touched him, his breath hitched and his hands momentarily tightened around her elbows, but when he spoke his voice was even. "You have to go, or you will pass out again."
He was right. Hermione couldn't do more than nod, and together they approached the crooked house, stopping at the fence.
Malfoy made sure she had a tight hold on the worn wood before he turned to leave. He seemed reluctant to go though. "This is goodbye, I guess?" he said, his back turned towards Hermione.
Had it been six years since their last Potions class together? It suddenly felt like yesterday as regret once again wrenched Hermione's heart. This time, however... She swallowed.
"Well, actually there's something called a repeat compliance visit," she said softly, her voice barely more than a whisper.
"A repeat visit?" he repeated sharply. "When…?"
"It's a surprise visit." Hermione shook her head. "I can't say when."
"And I suppose you won't participate in this...repeat compliance visit?" Something in his tone of voice suggested his wish for her to confirm the opposite.
"I…I don't know. I haven't thought about it yet," Hermione said truthfully. She had wanted to make that decision upon the inspectors' progress.
Malfoy nodded. "I'll wait for that moment to come, then," he said and walked away with long strides. Moments later, Hermione heard the light pop of Draco Malfoy Disapparating, and she stumbled through the door of The Burrow, straight into the arms of a startled Molly Weasley.
A/N: Many thanks go to my beta Crimson Eyed Sakura for her wonderful work on this story.
Thank you for reading!