Happy Monday! Here is another update for you all. I am hoping to get another one up this Wednesday and again on Sunday. I am really enjoying writing this. Please leave a review if you are also enjoying reading :) Thank you!
Hermione's hands felt warm and clammy as they lay still in the palms of Draco Malfoy. She shut her eyes for a moment and let out a slow, hot breath as her mouth circled into an "O" shape. She could feel Malfoy's agitation, but she waited for him to speak before she responded to his thoughts.
"Now what, Granger?" he asked as his eyes flickered from her face to their hands. "I'm not trying to sit here like this all night."
Her eyes opened with a flutter as she looked into his, taking in his essence - his soul. Her fingers gripped tightly around the back of his hand. "Right," she said. "According to the book, the best place to start is to start with word association. I'll say a word or a phrase and you will try to hide your thoughts connected to that word or phrase. They suggest imagining your thoughts are a train and my mind doesn't have a ticket to follow. Then, to be fair, you get to do the same to me."
Malfoy shifted his eyes awkwardly as he uncomfortably avoided her gaze. "Just a word?" he asked quizzically as he took in a deep breath and landed his eyes back on hers.
"Yes," she felt his short, sharp fingernails press into the back of her hands - she didn't remember him to be a nail biter. "Do you feel comfortable with that?" She only asked because his brain was swirling with thoughts of agitation, concern, and self-consciousness.
"Stop that," he said in a clipped tone, his eyes narrowing as they drilled into hers. She willed herself not to look away, despite the fact that she was feeling very out of place. "Yes, I feel comfortable." Hermione watched as his face softened. He rolled his shoulders back and a devious smile crept onto his face. "I'll go first."
"Uh - well," she staggered on her words, "I was thinking since I had done the reading I could observe-"
"Well, I was thinking that since you had done the reading," he mocked coldly, "that it would benefit me more to see how you emulate this train." She stared at him with her mouth slightly ajar. His smirk turned into a smile that feigned innocence. "I've always been a visual learner," he purred.
"Fine," she conceded. "You go first."
Malfoy leaned forward across their connected hands and stopped right in front of her face, their noses almost touching. His breath was hot as it blew out of his mouth and curled around her face. His breath smelled of mint toothpaste. He was so deep in his own thoughts of finding a word to torment her with that he hadn't noticed her focusing on his scent.
Suddenly, his mind landed on one. "Your parents." He pulled back from her and she suddenly felt very cold.
Just as the book instructed, her mind conjured a train that head to the areas of her brain that would contain any memory or thoughts on her parents. She could feel Malfoy inside her mind, but as her train of thought rode its way through her thoughts, her brain was taking him right along with her. The book was right - it was as if her brain was treating Malfoy like an extension of her - not an invader. Her left fingers loosened their hold on his hand as she skated them slowly up his right forearm and gave a squeeze. He'd had the cuffs unbuttoned, allowing her rough hands to graze along his hot bare skin. Her eyes focused on his as she willed her brain to separate the two minds.
It had been a failed attempt. Hermione had dragged Malfoy through memories of her childhood translated into thoughts. How her mother had taught her how to garden, stopping to play in the mud on rainy days. Sitting on her father's lap as he bounced her on his knee, reading her a scientific journal about the importance of oral hygiene. The loving acceptance they'd had when they realized she was special - their openness to sending her off to a school where she could thrive. Her heart was swelling with these memories; they were filled with warmth, happiness, and love.
Her mind then took a turn to more recent thoughts. Darker, sorrowful feelings and emotions. She remembered reading about the murder of Muggle-born families - reading on the imprisonment of the parents of Muggle-born students. Her fears of putting her family in danger because of her connection to Harry. Her mind flashed with thoughts of what to do with them to protect them.
Her mind went to a memory of Malfoy himself.
'Do them a favour and make them forget you ever existed.'
Ultimately, it was what she had decided to do. When the time was right, she would Obliviate them and send them off somewhere safe. She was just biding her time, relishing the fact that she was still their child for as long as she could hold onto that.
Malfoy's hand gripped her left forearm tight. "Enough," he said as he gave her a shake. "Clearly that didn't work."
Hermione let go of her hold on Malfoy's left hand and used her sweater sleeve to wipe tears from her eyes. She returned her hand to his and he held it as she slipped her fingers into his palm. Neither of them noticed.
"Actually, I realize I have to put a majority of my focus on you in order to recognize you in my mind," she said with a sniffle. Malfoy sneered in mild distaste. "I had thought physical contact of any kind would be enough, but it appears to work better when the contact is more intense."
There was a beat of silence where Hermione expected Malfoy to make a snide remark, or to hear his thoughts explode with revulsion and outrage. Instead, his mind was stuck on her memories with her parents. Her childhood experience wasn't what he had expected at all. In fact, he found some aspects of her childhood to be relatable to his. None of what he had just witnessed added up to what he'd been told growing up about Muggle families. He shook his head.
"How much more intense?" He asked her as he looked down at her hand on his forearm.
"This is good to start," she said as her calloused fingers wriggled against his smooth, bare skin. "I think if we grab each other's forearms instead of hands-"
"Just the right forearm is enough," he said shortly, pulling his left arm away from her creeping hand.
His mind quickly flashed to his Mark before his attention returned to her. Hermione swallowed slowly and nodded in understanding. She'd learned he had taken the Mark back that first day, but it was still so jarring for her to be reminded about it. "Yes, of course. This is fine for today."
Malfoy nodded as he opened his left palm back up for her. She grabbed it with haste. "Don't ask about my parents, Granger," he warned.
She looked to him - was he being serious? When she found no humor in his eyes, she nodded in agreement. Before he could catch onto what she was thinking, she said it. "Professor Dumbledore."
Her mind was taken on a journey as she followed Malfoy's train of thought as it tried to chug away from her. Unfortunately for him, she was a premium passenger and he couldn't seem to kick her off. They rode along through the mind and memories of Draco Malfoy.
Eight year old Draco Malfoy holding a Chocolate Frog Card of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore and his father swiftly ripping it from his hands. "You'll soon learn, Draco, that Great does not always mean Worthy."
Hermione saw Dumbledore through First Year Draco's eyes - the interest at the forefront of his thoughts, followed by the washing of hatred that had been bred into him.
Fifth Year, Malfoy was joyous the Headmaster had been displaced - now truly believing he was a detriment to the Wizarding World. Happy to see him gone.
Sixth Year… Malfoy's train of thought faltered and changed course. Hermione was watching in shock as his memories and thoughts unfolded. Him being honored and happy to take on the task of killing Dumbledore, begging to get the Mark to bring pride to his parents. Hours spent excitedly planning out the different ways he could assassinate the head of the Order of the Phoenix, and how he'd been adamantly trying all year, meeting some unfortunate bumps in the road.
Malfoy's thoughts of the Astronomy Tower that night. How he was finally going to get the chance to kill the man. How he was just about to cast the Killing Curse when a green light shot over his shoulder, striking the great wizard square in the middle of his chest. How Severus Snape stole his glory.
When the train ride was over, and Hermione and Draco both came to, they realized he'd had his hands laced behind her neck, his forehead pressed into hers - their eyes staring deep into each other's minds.
Malfoy was the first to leap back. "Well, that was a failure," he said as he got up to his feet and rubbed the back of his neck. "You know, Granger, if you're trying to cop a feel, just say so," he spat.
Hermione was sitting on the couch feeling absolutely bewildered. "How did you do that?" She asked quietly with her hands in her lap. "How did you make all of that up?"
Malfoy's hand dropped and clenched tightly at his side. "Make what up, Granger? Everything you just saw was the truth. You asked for it, I gave it to you. Just because it doesn't make you happy doesn't mean it's not true," his voice was angry and impatient. He was willing her to believe him.
She shook her head and looked up at him from the couch. "Draco," she said, using his first name this time, "I've been in your mind for weeks."
"So? Then none of this should be new." He was lying to himself and they both knew it. Malfoy was trembling as he paced in front of the fire. "And we're not friends, Mudblood. Don't call me by my given name," he shot a dirty glare at her over his shoulder.
"You never wanted to take the Mark," she began as she stood from her spot on the sofa.
"Granger…"
"Being tasked with killing Professor Dumbledore was the worst thing that had ever happened to you."
"Stop," his voice was eerily quiet as he rolled up his left sleeve.
"You were dead from the moment your father was sent to Azkaban and you knew that. You never wanted this for yourself."
"Enough!" He shouted as he spun to face her, his left forearm held out for her to see in all its glory. The Dark Mark had eaten into his alabaster skin - black, red, raised. "I am a Death Eater - I'm no better than the rest of them. Actually, they're better than me - I'm just a coward that couldn't follow through."
Hermione's eyes were locked onto the Mark, her mouth opening and closing as she fought to find the words to say.
Malfoy rolled his sleeve back down his arm and turned away from her. "The world would be better without the lot of you. I stand by the same values and beliefs as they do. So in essence, yes everything was true," he said. "I think you should leave."
Hermione slammed her mouth closed and nodded. "Right," she said as she picked up her cloak and book bag, packing the book away. Malfoy conjured the door with a flick of his wrist.
Standing by the exit, her hand on the cold bronze knob, Hermione looked back to Malfoy. "You may be a bigot, but you're not a monster," she said. "If any of what you showed me just now was true, I would have reported you to the Order and had you taken prisoner." She swung the door open. "I'm sorry you've had to grow up so fast, Malfoy. I truly am."
She left him to glower into the fire. His thoughts were quiet. Sad. Insecure. Anxious. One thought stuck out in her mind most glaringly. One thought he had begun to repeat like a manta.
'It wasn't my choice, nor was it my fault.'
I hope you all enjoyed - I had a ton of fun with this chapter. Let me know what you think!