Happy post-Halloween Monday! Enjoy!
As the door shut behind Granger, Draco let out a long and slow breath as he ran a hand through his hair. The pit in his stomach was so heavy that it was as though gravity had pulled him down onto the loveseat.
He hadn't been asleep. Not once the entire day.
Draco had not been fully honest with the girl with whom he shared his mind. In the weeks that they had been training, Draco had learned how to completely block her out of his mind. He wasn't perfect at it yet, but he was good enough at the skill to trick her into thinking that he was asleep throughout the day.
In all his nights of reading and researching, he had uncovered a way to push forth more superficial thoughts. This would allow her to believe that she still maintained access to his mind as he did hers. Right now, she would hear how he thought that they might be able to get over their childhood rivalry, whilst still struggling with his identity.
These feelings were true, and he wasn't deceiving her in that way. But he wanted to keep his more private thoughts, well, private. She, on the other hand, was not there yet. She had more responsibilities than he did, more connections, more work - less time in general. She couldn't possibly keep up with him considering the magnitude of potion learning, brewing, and testing she had been up to. All he had was time.
Draco dropped his head into his hands as his nails pressed into the back of his skull. He wasn't sure exactly why he hadn't told her - why he hadn't been honest about it. There was an urge there to stop everything - the lessons, the communication, the connection in general. He'd learned what he needed to learn and had all the power now. He could hold it over her for as long as it took her to learn and perfect on her own. He could try to bargain to make his way back to his family.
But for some unclear reason, he didn't want to do that - part of him tried to convince himself that he would be stuck with her thoughts and that would drive him mad, but he knew that was not true. He shook his head and leaned back against the cushions of the sofa. A few months ago he would have done that in a heartbeat. He would rub it in her smug little nose and force her into a permanent isolation - a powerful asset of the Order broken down to bits.
Now? Now he didn't have to be alone.
The feeling of shame and disgust that Draco had gotten so familiar with bubbled up in his stomach at the thought of enjoying the company of a Mudblood. A Muggle-born, his mind corrected against his will. Not just any Muggle-born, either. Hermione Granger.
Three times a week. Three times a week Draco waited for her to have the thought of a time to come and see him to train. Three times a week Draco's body flushed with pure excitement.
He wasn't even sure why. It's not as though they were having jovial discussions, or playing childhood games, or even sharing a laugh that often. It was business.
But it was business with the person he had grown to be more comfortable with than anyone else in his life. That made him ill with confusion - the ache of his internal turmoil throbbed every time he thought of her and smiled. Every time he snuck into her mind while she thought he was asleep and just sat with the company of her internal monologue. Every time he felt his heart flutter at the thought of her at all.
The worst part of it all was that she didn't have the same struggle that he did. He sensed no nerves or excitement. No happiness at just the thought of him. Sure, there were times where she flushed at the sight of him and thought him to be beautiful, but that was superficial.
Perhaps that was why he was hiding his ability from her. He couldn't let her know what she did to him.
So, when she came storming to the castle that night, wearing a Gryffindor red dress that fit her body as though it was melted onto her skin, he had to lie to her.
In a blink of an eye. The war began in a blink of an eye after that night. The days following Bill and Fleur's wedding flew past her as she was knocked into full potion-making mode. The stock she had built over the course of weeks throughout the summer was already nearly half spent.
Her mind was so focused on her work that she hadn't paid much attention to Malfoy at all. She imagined part of him must relish in the stress she was going through. Relishing in the idea that the war was in full spiral and he got to watch from the outside. If he was able to see her, she knew exactly what he'd say.
"Look at you, finally living up to your name, dirty little -"
She found herself ending her days caked in mud, slime, and sweat from the work she was doing. She'd hardly been able to sleep. She didn't have any time to go and visit Malfoy - she'd have to put their sessions on hold indefinitely. The Order, the cause, always had to come first.
When she was able to climb into bed at the end of her days, she did think about him sometimes. Specifically back to that night at the castle, after the raid at the Burrow, when she accused him of leaking information to the Death Eaters. He hadn't been the one to betray them. She gave him the opportunity to do so (stupidly) and he didn't. In fact, they were able to have a really frank conversation that ended in her learning a lesson.
Evil isn't born, it is taught. Those who some think to be evil may not see themselves in that way. People tend to believe they are the hero of their own story.
Maybe she was foolish, maybe she was tired, but Hermione Granger truly found that she trusted Malfoy. She trusted him to keep her secrets. Perhaps it was because she had access to his mind and all of his secrets, too, for collateral damage. For whatever the reason really was, she truly did trust him.
That is why when Professor McGonagall came to her late in the night on August 15th, 1997, Hermione was ready to say yes.
"Miss Granger," the woman was standing tall in the doorway. Her face was stoic but her eyes gave away her fear. Hermione had never seen that from the witch. "You know I wouldn't come here if we didn't truly need you."
Hermione's stomach dropped. Malfoy must have been asleep because she didn't hear his thoughts tonight. She felt alone. "Of course, Professor."
"There is news of a planned raid in Hogsmeade in the late morning tomorrow," she began, her hands clasping each other so hard that they went white. "We've already lost Hogwarts. We cannot afford to lose Hogsmeade this early in the war." She shook her head. "As you know, several of us Order members cannot openly fight."
Hermione knew this. McGonagall herself was one of those people. Those members of the Order who held positions within the Ministry and Hogwarts could not be known to be affiliated with the cause. "Yes, absolutely."
"We hope not to need you for a good long time after this, Miss Granger, but we cannot afford this loss."
Hermione was already throwing together a rucksack - specifically her bottomless bag. "I understand and I am happy to fight," she said as she ran an arm across a potion shelf, stocking up on her essentials. She threw her hair up into a bun. "Will Harry and Ron be there?"
Her former head of house shook her head. "As much as we can't lose Hogsmeade, we cannot lose either of those boys even more."
A feeling of hurt and fear ran through her body as she heard the words come from her former professor's mouth. She understood the sentiment, but hearing that she was more disposable than her two best friends hurt her all the same. "Of course."
Without another word, the two witches left the cabin cold and empty as they headed out into the night.
Draco's body was flushed with rage as he paced back and forth in front of the fire.
'As much as we can't lose Hogsmeade, we cannot lose either of those boys even more.'
He wasn't quite sure why that hit a nerve, but it did. It had always been those two. Protect them at all costs. He couldn't believe the gall of the old hag to show up at Granger's door in the middle of the night to ask her to put her life on the line because there were more valuable people to protect. Especially after promising to keep her out of the battles. He knew there would be more to come.
Draco's eyes moved over the mantle and he paused in his pacing as his eyes landed on the dried orange lily. He had plucked it from her hair the last night he had seen her. It had been over two weeks since she had come to see him. Over two weeks since her thoughts consisted of anything other than the war and the cause.
His conflicted feelings angered him. On one hand, maybe he would be relieved if something terrible were to happen to her. He'd no longer be pestered with her thoughts and he could focus on getting back on the path his life was meant to be on. On the other hand, the idea of loneliness hurt too much. The idea of her pain burned.
He sighed as he delicately held the lily in his pale hands. He thought back to that night - back to the vision of her, so radiant that he couldn't register the threat until his back his the wall. The power she yielded frightened him in a way that made him feel alive. He twirled the flower between his finger tips. The lily didn't hold a candle to the essence of her.
He shook his head and placed the lily back where he had kept it. He only felt this way because he was alone. There were quite literally zero other options for him to think of in such a way that it was only natural he felt a pull. That was instinct. The darkness that was bred into him fought every day to push those feelings away.
As he sat back down on his bed and honed into her mind, he knew. There was more light in him fighting to keep those feelings than there was darkness fighting to push them away.
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