Chapter 28

The Animals Inside

Tensions between Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy rose.

There were several arguments since the public embarrassment of Professor Trelawney about Hermione's disregard for the rules set in place by Professor Umbridge. It was clear the professor was going for the throat. He would not risk Hermione all for their stupid little club. Draco was adamant that soon they would be caught, Hermione included. He demanded her resignation in Potter's forbidden student club. When she refused, it made things worse. It happened regularly. They'd argue and bicker and fight. He was furious; she, frustrated. When she declared she would sooner quit Draco than the club, it made him implode. He often disappeared in a huff to not be seen for the rest of the evening.

Crabbe and Goyle were seemingly ignorant to what their friend did. All they knew was to follow her around.

The DA never stopped. Hermione was at every practice, every meeting. The enchantment coin was kept stashed in her pockets where it always would be felt when called.

The endless fights with Draco had their impact, though. She was often irritable and impatient. It took all inside her not to snap when someone remarked on the size of her hair which had grown twice its size in the recent weeks. All her attentions were elsewhere. Her hair was the least of her worries.

Pressure to succeed in the O.W.L.'s was heavy, as was the tight rope act of being involved with Draco Malfoy while apart of the secret dueling club that would earn an automatic suspension if they were caught.

She was not certain how – her imagination could have concocted it from the lack of calm in her mind – but she thought Draco knew each time she went to the DA. Something about his behavior, the sharp glare in his eyes when he saw her. There was no reason that she knew of to explain it. He knew when she lied. He knew where she went. He resented her for it.

Hermione felt him everywhere. The only place she was free of his eyes was inside the Room of Requirement itself.

She tossed down her satchel against a wall after their meeting. Her shoulder ached. She cradled it against her body.

"Ron, let's go." Lavender pulled Ronald down the corridor. She was too eager to be going to study as she claimed they were. Ginny rolled her eyes as she passed the pair. "We've got to study for the OWL's."

Ron noticed Hermione off by herself. The wincing frown on her face triggered something within him.

He turned to Lavender and gripped both her shoulders as he spoke. "I'll meet you there. There's something I gotta do first."

"But Won-Won." Her bottom lip pouted.

"We studied last night." A wildfire spread across his cheeks. He lowered his voice. "We don't have to study all the time."

"I thought you liked to study," she whined.

"I do, Lav. I do. Hermione needs me right now. She hasn't been acting right so I'm going to see what's wrong. We'll just study later."

The Gryffindor witch put out her best disappointed expression she could before she retreated out of the hall. They were the last ones. Only Ron and Hermione remained in the desolation of the fifth floor.

Hermione paced back and forth as she rubbed the shoulder. Her mind raced through thoughts over and over. Potions, Charms, Draco, Harry, The DA, DADA, Draco, Voldemort, Transfiguration, Harry, Umbridge.

Ron frowned as he watched her wince with a hand on her shoulder.

"Shoulder still buggin' you?"

She jumped. "Godric, Ronald. Make some noise next time. You scared me."

He dipped his head low. "Sorry Mione."

"It's fine." She groaned. Her hand flexed against the curve of her shoulder and regretted it. It hurt when it wasn't touched but also when it was. She was at a loss. She didn't have time for an injury. "It's been killing me for days."

"Probably all those books you carry around."

"Well it's going to have to get stronger because I'm not going to stop." She started to pace again. Her body frantic in the motions. "I can't stop. I can't."

"One moment couldn't hurt, could it?" The innocent hope on his face brought clarity back to her rattled thoughts. Ron. He was her friend. Sometimes, it felt like the only one in the whole world who might understand anything which was rather oxymoronic because he misunderstood her a lot. "Just a moment."

The shimmery blue of his eyes held her lovingly, with hope. Hope that she might stop. Hope that she might notice him for once, after a year of being focused on everyone, anyone else but him.

She was an awful friend. Her pace stopped.

"I know a trick that might help," Ron added with a soft smile.

"You do?"

He nodded. "Learned it after I joined the team. Works wonders when you have Angelina on your arse."

Hermione allowed Ron to pull her to the steady floor with his wand out. She appraised the fact that he intended to heal her with magic. All at once, the tension was back. Could she trust him to fix it or would it just make her worse? Was there something else at work? Did she have to worry if Voldemort was behind it?

Ron's hand gripped her tensed shoulder. "Whoa, whoa. I'm not going to hurt you." He sighed. "Would you prefer I do it on myself first?"

Was she bloody stupid? Ronald would no sooner harm her than Hagrid would turn away a stray creature.

She forced her body to release all the pent-up air in her lungs. "No. I trust you."

"Actually, I should tell you…it's going to hurt. Just at first. The spell is going to pop all the bones into alignment. I won't lie to you. It'll sting. A bit." Hermione flashed a doubtful look. "Alright more than a bit. But I swear it'll be better. I'll give it a bit of a rub to loosen the muscles. Then you'll be all set."

Her lips remained stretched thin. "It already hurts. Honestly, I doubt I'll notice the extra pain."

"Brilliant," he said, a bit too cheerful. His face changed when he noticed the lift of Hermione's brow. "No, not brilliant. I didn't mean brilliant."

She rolled her eyes. "Go on, Ronald. I know what you meant."

"Right."

He grabbed hold of his wand. The blunt end pressed against the divot beneath the shoulder blade. She sucked a breath through her teeth. He exhaled.

"Ready?" He asked.

"Do it."

His lips muttered a spell. Like he warned, it hurt. A lot.

All her bones crackled and popped in place like a sudden round of gunfire. She exclaimed an impolite word as the pain sharpened in her shoulder and down her arm and back. The pain was worse than before, a fact she thought impossible.

"Bleeding hearts," she groaned. Her arms stretched to their heart as she tried to breathe through it like Ron instructed. It did not help. Not one bit.

His wand dropped to his lap and his hands replaced it. They grabbed hold of her tense muscles and massaged their way around her entire shoulder. It was magical.

"Sorry 'bout that."

"That's alright," she hissed. His fingers were repaying the favor. "I'm used to it."

"What? Spells?"

"No," she answered in a hollow tone. "Pain."

Ron kept working at her shoulder, loosening it ever so slightly. He was behind her back. Hands at her shoulder. Hermione, released from shoulder pain for the first time in a week, relaxed back against him. She felt a heavenly release in that spell. Her eyes felt heavier.

Her friend exhaled a hot breath from his nose. "You know -."

"I don't really want to talk about him, Ron."

"Come on, now. You always say that. You've got to talk 'bout him sometime."

Up until that point, Ginny was the only one who knew the extent of her relationship with Draco, and that was vague at best. When they started shagging, Hermione stopped sharing. It became personal.

Besides, she thought it might make her look bad for shagging a wizard who was…well, Draco.

"We used to be best mates. Used to tell me everything, you did." Ron massaged down the front of her arm. "Now, it's like I don't know you or Harry anymore. You're both so angry all the time."

She snorted. "Honestly I don't know how you aren't angry. The weight of the world is on us. And we've got to prepare for a future that might not happen. Still, expected to be happy children when the entire world is falling down. We've got to pick sides when we aren't even old enough to pick our careers. Things have chosen paths for us, dark deadly paths, without our permission. The world just expects us to shine through like nothing has happened, people aren't dead, war isn't coming, life is possible. Like there isn't hate in the world."

"You've not let any of that stop you."

She'd been lost in her own continued ramblings of her mind that his words were a sharp dagger to all of them. "Pardon?"

"You and Draco have found something. Something weird and unusual, but it makes you both happy. I can tell you're miserable without each other. Despite him being a bloody wanker with a family like he's got. You've gone and done what you said shouldn't happen. Sure, things aren't easy, but I can tell you love him."

She growled. "That's because I'm stupid, Ron."

Her friend snorted. It was a healthy chuckle from his lips that helped ease her further.

What about Ron made it so easy to be herself?

"Quite an oxymoron, that. Hermione Granger, stupid. Hell, I'd have to be bloody stupid to believe it possible." His amusement at the statement spread to her. Although she still felt a rotten idiot on the inside, her mouth held a smile. When their laughs finally died back down to the quiet of the corridor, Ron shook his head. "If you're stupid, then Malfoy's right there with you, eh? He's gone and done what you've done, too. Loves you in spite of everything. I'd imagine it's harder in his shoes."

Hermione's fuse sparked. "There is nothing in that wizard's life that has an ounce of difficulty. He was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, with a bloody elf's hand at the end of it."

Struggle? A pureblood elitist of his caliber did not know the meaning of struggle. Not a bit.

He was handed all that he had. Tutors given at his every whim, to expand his mind, enable him, challenge him. Books were like a constant, too. She bet Malfoy Manor had the largest personal library in the whole country. If they managed to not have a book he wanted, they'd pop out and get it. Or worse, have their enslaved elves do it!

Draco Malfoy didn't know the meaning of the word difficulty.

"I don't mean money, Mione. I mean, he's doing what you're doing, too. I'll bet all his friends think he's mental for carrying on with you. Can't imagine what his parent's faces look like. Or what they might do to him about it. They're His most loyal followers. What do you think it means to have a son with a Gryffindor girlfriend? I bet he's scared for his life. No way his parents haven't threatened such either. I mean, he's got the whole of his family in harms way all because of his love for you. Doesn't sound like him at all, does it? That's something a Gryffindor would do. It's like he's -."

"Brave," Hermione finished.

"Exactly!" Ron said. His hands worked little circles into her flesh. "So, you're on different sides. At least our side won't kill you for it. His will."

Godric, she hated when Ron was right. Especially when it was something she knew all along just didn't want to ponder on.

So much drained from her mentally to know that Draco's safety was based on her. He pulled so much of her away. Her friends. Trust. Pride.

For all she criticized Draco for being sinfully prideful, she was no different.

She fell back against Ron's chest with an echoing thud. "Why do you have to make so much sense?" She questioned bitterly.

"Been friends with you too long, that's why." His head bent to rest against hers.

There they were. His hands on her exposed shoulder, massaging her despite the uncomfortable position she put him in as she laid against him. But he made no movement to separate; neither did she.

The intimate bond she felt with Ron refreshed her hope of the world. She remembered what it felt like to confide in someone. The secrecy of Draco and Harry was a burden that pressed against her chest with each bit of strength to keep her quiet and confined. Only the words released that tension. Words that were secret, unable to be repeated or else all would be lost.

Her hand reached up and touched Ron's cool cheek. "You're the best, Ron. I might not say it enough, but you are."

His hands stalled.

"Thanks Mione." A soft smile raised his mouth.

"You won't tell anyone about Draco, will you, Ronald?" Her voice asked quietly. Her Gryffindor heart trusted him completely, but it was the suspicion of an implanted Slytherin that made her sneak confirmation of their confidence. "Not even Harry."

"Oi, I'm not mad."

"Are you certain? You've dealt with Harry and I all year. It's a miracle you aren't totally mental by now."

"Harry does wear on me a bit," he admitted.

She held her breath. "What about me?"

"You?" He snorted. "How can I be mental when you've finally found someone who makes you happy?"

"All I am is angry and frustrated."

"Ah you're like that anyway. Now it's just at Malfoy, and not at me and Harry."

The observation was not far off. Teenage boys offered up the worse temper in her. They were just so infuriating that she lost control of her patience more often than not. For all of Harry and Ronald and the rest of Gryffindor Tower's moronic behavior that she complained of constantly, it was not so different than the budding, unstable moods of a certain Slytherin wizard who was not in touch with his own emotions.

It seemed rather obvious that teenage boys were a condition that varied widely but was no less frustrating whatever the stage.

She remembered how much of a fuss she made over Ron pronouncing his spells wrong, and Harry's total ignorance of his magical education while Draco was wildly impetuous in his behaviors over his insulted ego. It was all the same story, only different sides.

Godric save her from the menace of puberty.

Ron grabbed his things as he readied to go. "I've got to go meet, Lav. I said I'd meet her for a spot of…studying."

His face was consumed with a blush. Over snogging. Merlin, what would he do when he started shagging?

Her brow quirked in doubt. "Studying? I'm glad to see you've finally understood its importance."

"Actually." He stepped closer, in her confidence once again. "Studying is what we say when we want to sneak off and snog."

She crossed her arms. "Yeah, Ron. I cracked the code."

"What?"

He had no right to be as stunned as he was.

"Honestly, neither of you have ever studied as much as you do now," Hermione explained. The last thing she pictured in her day was an examination over their romantic secrets. "We were able to put it together fairly quick."

"We?" He repeated.

The audacity. "Yes, Ronald. We. As in, the entire castle."

Somehow his complexion turned the same shade as his hair.

"Oh," he said. He turned as if he thought to walk away, which she prayed might happen. Snogging with Lavender was not an imagine she would like clarified in her mind. It hurt enough to know it was an image, but if he filled in any more blanks, she'd really have to curse her memories herself. "Actually, Mione, can I ask you a question?"

No. No. NO.

"Wouldn't you feel more comfortable asking Harry?"

"Harry?" He snorted. "He's got less a clue than me. And I really need the help."

Regret. She knew she'd regret it, but she couldn't turn him away.

"Alright then," she said. "Ask."

"What am I supposed to do with my tongue?"

Her eyes went wide. The muscles of her jaw just tore themselves open to leave it hanging open like a broken hinge.

She swallowed. "Your tongue?"

"Yeah. Lav says she don't like what I do with my tongue when I kiss her," Ron explained. Whew, kiss. That was good. "But the twins said to flick it back and forth as fast as I can."

She withheld her own blush as it fast approached her body. The heat raised from her neck to the underside of her jaw. If he saw her blush, he might put some information together.

Hermione bit back her discomfort to the best of her ability. "The twins meant that for something else, Ron."

"Something else?"

She nodded. "Violent tongue flicking is not for snogging. Just be gentle and slow. Find each other's rhythm. She might even be able to show you with her tongue how she likes it."

Ron absorbed the information. "So, not fast circles?"

She almost burst into a fit of nervous laughs. "Nope."

"Okay."

Everything seemed finished. He was satisfied with the information. His bag was pulled over his shoulder, ready to get to more important things like 'studying'.

"Say, Hermione?"

"Hmm?"

"If the tongue flicking isn't for snogging, what is it for?"

Needless to say, Hermione was late to the library for her agreed upon meeting with Draco. When she arrived at the quiet room, she saw that it was mostly empty except for a few stray students frantically scratching away at their assignments. She went straight back to the Slytherin section of the library where Draco preferred to take his studying.

He was present in an armchair, an open book in his palm, though his eyes were not focused on it.

They stared straight ahead. Hermione followed his gaze upward to the ancient clock ticking away.

"You're late," he stated bitterly.

She noticed the pair of them were actually alone. Crabbe and Goyle were nowhere in sight.

"I might ask where you've been," he said as she sat in the armchair next to his, "if I didn't know what you've been doing. And with whom."

Hermione grabbed out a worn Charms textbook from her satchel. His mood was better ignored.

"I've got to study," she said.

"Sure you wouldn't prefer studying with that weasel? Or a quick rub in the corridor is all you need?"

The book dropped from her hand. Her eyes filled with question. Were they saw by someone or had it been him following her?

Either way it didn't matter. There was nothing wrong with what she did. It wasn't snogging or shagging.

"Ron was helping me," she explained.

"Helping himself, I'd say." Draco was filled with venom. His tone was low, but it did not lack the bite that it needed to show his penetrating fangs. "Touching you all over. Rubbing you."

"My shoulder really hurt. It's been killing me for days. I could barely move it. Ron knew a spell."

His fingers snapped his book closed. "You'd rather trust his unskilled hands than mine, pet?"

Hermione read the offense in his eyes. He was disturbed by the fact she hadn't asked him.

"I didn't ask him to do it, Draco." She was exasperated from the pain. Back and forth, pulled here and there, it was tearing her apart. "He saw that I couldn't move and offered to make it better."

Draco's jaw clenched tight. "Come here."

His hand latched upon her wrist and dragged her back further into the library where many shadows hid the space for students to entangle themselves out of sight. Draco's idea was different. He put her on the floor in front of him just as Ron had done. His hands were rather pushy.

He pulled down the sleeve of her robe as well as her jumper.

There was no strange feeling to his touch on her bare flesh. Their magics knew one another and reunited as old friends. The muscles of her shoulder released under his flexing fingers as he pulled and stretched them.

She focused on the sound of his breath as he worked. In and out. Steady, smooth. Unchanged.

"Why didn't you tell me you hurt yourself?"

She answered honestly. "I didn't think you'd care."

"You can come to me with anything," he emphasized. "I take care of you, don't I?"

Despite the anger in his voice, his hands were sincere as they worked. Tender spots were treated with gentle touch, retreating whenever her breath caught from pain.

"You should have come sooner. It is close to being torn," Draco hissed, gentler than before. "You've got to be more careful. Your casting arm is your most important one."

She kept her mouth closed. It was one of the most positive interaction they'd had in a while. If she explained where she got the injury from or asked how he knew who she was with, the moment would be ruined.

The tensions between them were agonizing. She was accustomed to his watchful attention. His company, too. Their intimate, private time together filled her days with a source of connection that was no longer a constant from her friends.

They built something. Together.

Through blood, sweat, and tears, they came together as no other Gryffindor and Slytherin had before and made something that was supposed to be unbreakable, yet the days that they fought like neither of them had a thing to lose, she felt the emotions lessening in both their eyes. Neither sought the other out. It was routine. They fell into the motions of an old life that didn't embody them any longer.

Draco fought against Harry's hold on her. She fought against all the damned evils that held him.

The silence settled between them, but it was not satisfactory to the other one in the room.

"What is it that Potter taught you today? Or should I say, what spell did you teach Potter that he then pretended to teach back to you?"

She exhaled. "I'm not going to fight with you."

"But you'll fight with Weasel and Potter in that bloody club all day."

"Is that what you're so bent out of shape about?"

"I'm not bent out of shape," he spat. His fingers tensed against her back. "I merely want to know what it is that you share with those oafs that you don't share with me."

"Fear," she breathed. "We share fear."

To that he said nothing.

It was not in Malfoy nature to admit to such emotions like fear. They knew no fear.

Only. As Ron had said, it took a significant amount of bravery for Draco to go against his family for her. Fear was his ally, she imagined.

"Just like me and you share fear," she added. "We share a similar shade of it."

His hands slowed. The stretch of her bare flesh cooled by the shadows they hid in, away from the flames of the library, the light of publicity, an area neither could enter. Not for real. A fabrication of what they were was all they could show. What little that was. How little water it held in reality, but for what Hogwarts offered, it was the bit of protection they had.

Hermione swallowed. "We share that, don't we? You and I."

Still, silent he remained. His attentions at her shoulder, working away her woes. Breathing against the back of her neck. The heat of his air, the flare of his heart like hers. They were sparks of the same flame. Hearts twisted together in the fate of the world. Each, doing what they had to, to secure safety for the other.

His answer was irrelevant. It was truth. He showed that time and time again.

"Would you like me to show you what I learned today?" Her lips finally muttered through the silence.

She grabbed hold of her wand. The reminder of the strength at the palm of her hand, it revived her dedication to the wizard at her back whom gave all his to her. Her fingers cinched against the base.

"I already know a fairy summoning charm," he remarked snidely.

The shrug of her shoulder slipped her sleeves back over her flesh. His hands pulled from beneath the fabric.

Her feet found footing below. "This is something that Harry taught me." Her eyes aligned with his. "Not the other way around."

It was enough to prick his interest.

"Expecto Patronum."

White ethereal light emerged from the tip of her wand. A form emerged through. A small chittering animal swam amongst the watery light around it.

Draco's eyes widened. The creature – an otter – circled around him with glee, toying at the edges of his robes and his hair as it swam. It ignited the dark corner of the room. He bathed in the light of the spell until she allowed it to dissipate from air.

Although it was not on the Hogwarts curriculum, Draco knew of the charm.

"Potter taught you that?" He asked. His tone filled with doubt and distaste at the advanced skill that Harry had, that Draco did not.

"He learned it third year."

A harsh snarl raised the corner of his mouth. "Third year. I don't believe it."

She exhaled. "Do you want me to teach it to you or not?"

It took a moment for him to ponder. Only a moment.

"Fine."

Hermione went on to explain the spell and how it was performed. Draco listened. Really. He took notice of every motion, everything she did. It was fascinating to watch his process in person and the depth that he went to learn.

His eyes, the most appreciative of every motion. The breath in her chest caught under their gaze, he mimicked her actions precisely. The words said in identical tone and pitch.

She absorbed every moment of his attention as he absorbed her.

"A happy memory. You have to have that at the front of your mind," she explained. "Keep it there. Almost reenter the memory, feel it all over again. That will give you the strongest Patronus."

"Simple," Draco murmured. "No wonder Potty learned it so soon."

"It's harder than it looks."

"You'll find I'm a competent wizard, pet." He took his position. Wand held as his weapon of choice. "There is little that challenges me."

Her lips pressed closed. "Go on them. Show me your Patronus."

"Expecto Patronum."

The end of his wand barely lit with light before it diminished.

His brows knitted upward in their center. His body found his stance again.

"Expecto Patronum," he said, louder.

The same result. Time after time, Draco failed.

Every part was perfect. The physical part of the spell was not the problem.

It was easy to see the frigid icy frustration build beneath his flesh. The harder he tried and failed, the deeper blue his eyes became. Hardness, ice, numbness.

To fail was not natural to the wizard.

"It isn't strong enough," she said softly. The ice filled stare found hers, dissatisfied with her witness to his struggle. "The memory. It has to be the happiest you've ever felt."

"It is," he said stiffly.

"Find something deeper, Draco. It has to be deeper."

He thought a moment. He lingered in that space where his mind explored the stowed away emotions that were lost to his person.

The stance, he found again. Wand raised.

"Let it swallow you up, the memory. Live it." She hoped it would help.

The words rang out through the quiet library little louder than a breath and the darkened depths of the aisles were ignited in shimmery white light. Same as it did her first time, the light was a stream until it took shape, little by little, definition came to the being until it revealed the form it would be – reflective of his inner soul.

Hermione's mouth fell loose. She stepped closer to observe.

"Draco…"

Words failed her.

The creature observed her in depth before it approached. She reached out her hand. The nose sniffed the edges of her outstretched fingers.

Suddenly, the animal dropped away.

Hermione spun on toe, shocked. Draco, too, disheveled by the animal inside him.

His hand ran through his platinum strands. Their precious styling fallen to disarray.

"I expected a snake," she admitted. "A Basilisk or something."

He was the Slytherin Prince. All that was Salazar was Draco Malfoy. Everyone knew.

"But - ."

"A wolf." His brow raised.