Your mudblood is next.
2nd March 1999
Draco lies awake, his heart racing.
When he was a little boy, he always found it very easy to fall asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. He ran and played, and had so many things with which to occupy free hours of the day that he was always exhausted by the time his nanny came to get him ready for bed.
He found it easy to fall asleep until the summer before sixth-year.
After that, everything changed. He changed.
And then, after the war ended, sleep came easily once again but it was never like before—until she came into his life. Every night that she slept in his bed, holding onto his hand, he was able to let the chaos in his mind quieten.
But for the past two nights, sleep hasn't come.
There are so many things occupying his mind and atop the pile sits Hermione.
Hermione . She's everywhere.
Her scent, her smile. If Draco thought she invaded his senses before they slept together, then she rules over them now.
She rules over him.
He didn't think it was possible for twenty-four hours to change everything but it did, and it continues to wreak havoc in his head. He constantly replays moments from their day together, and he is certain that it will never be enough. After all, he knows now.
He knows how she sounds when she comes, and he knows the taste of her.
He knows what it is to wake up and find her lying on his chest, mumbling softly as she debates and argues in her dreams.
He even knows what it is to make love.
It was never love, the other times. Only fucking. Only bodies, never hearts. It was never love before her and now that he knows what it can be, nothing will compare. No one could compare.
It can never be love again, he reminds himself sternly. Never again.
Today, during Potions, Hermione's fingers brushed against his and he nearly slid off his seat in an effort to move away. He couldn't risk it. He couldn't risk her.
Not when—
It didn't— doesn't matter that she wanted to try. He won't put her life at risk by letting her saddle herself to him.
Hermione sits with Trelawney by the window, sipping a mug of herbal tea. It's disgusting, but the professor made it especially for her, so she's willing to finish at least one mugs' worth of the concoction. Peering down into the tea, she frowns. It's murkier than the Great Lake on a rainy day.
"Something's wrong," the professor murmurs, her voice sombre.
Hermione looks up with a frown. They've been sitting in silence for the past hour, except for those few moments when Trelawney fell asleep and started snoring.
It's odd, Hermione thinks, to feel such a great fondness for this teacher she once despised. After the hurt and confusion that was left in the wake of Draco leaving her bed, she felt herself in need of some comfort and familiarity. Since the safe harbour of his arms was off-limits, this was the next best alternative.
It doesn't compare.
"What do you mean?" she asks, placing her cup on the ledge. "Why would you think something is wrong?"
Trelawney crosses her legs underneath her and leans back against the window frame. She doesn't have her glasses on so Hermione has an unobstructed view of her professor's scar.
"Well, you're d-drinking that," she gestures to the mug, "and… and you didn't c-complain once about th-the taste. Not even once."
"Well, that's because—"
"And your aura… it's a-all over the place."
"Professor—"
"What is it?" Trelawney pats her knee gently. "You can t-tell me, dear."
Hermione's shoulders sink and she rests her head against the wall. The cold of the stone seeps through her hair to her scalp and she shudders. There are so many things she'd like to say. About her situation with Draco, about her parents, about the fact that her two best friends haven't written in two months.
Eventually, she settles on,
"Draco told me that he asked you to talk to me."
"Oh." Trelawney freezes, her eyes bugging out, and Hermione shakes her head.
"Don't worry," she says. "I'm not upset or anything, I just wondered…" She breaks off, shrugging. "I suppose I wondered why."
Trelawney's chin jerks forward. "Why?"
"Why you agreed to it. Draco is—I mean, I can imagine that you were surprised by the request."
Hermione watches as the professor's hand rises to rest against the window. Bony, trembling fingers trace patterns across the glass.
"He loves you."
Hermione lifts her eyes to Trelawney's piercing gaze, her mouth falling open. This isn't news to her, but surely he wouldn't go around telling people—
"What?" She leans forward. "Did he say something? Did he tell you?"
The professor smiles knowingly. "He didn't h-have to tell me. I saw it in h-his eyes. And I've seen it every t-time he looks at y-you. I couldn't say no t-to someone so… so desperate to h-help the person they love."
Hermione feels an ache in her throat that threatens to catalyse tears. She looks out at the dark night and clenches her jaw.
"He doesn't want to be with me," she says. "He's martyring himself because he thinks he doesn't deserve me. Sometimes I get so angry at him for it, because he's hurting both of us in an effort to keep his distance."
Trelawney is silent for a long time. Hermione doesn't bother filling the emptiness with more talk until the professor sighs and says,
"We humans f-fall in love with imperfections."
Bewildered by the crypticness of the statement, Hermione just nods her head in agreement, a trick she hasn't had to use in quite some time.
3rd March 1999
Blaise and Theo ask him to meet for a drink in the evening, but Draco declines. He tells them he'll be too busy studying for a Potions assignment.
The truth is that he's avoiding Hermione.
The object of his affection comes into view as he walks towards the back of the Potions classroom where she sits, waiting for him. Her hair is tied back into a bun today and he frowns at it as he takes his seat.
"How are you?" she asks, her voice a faint murmur.
Draco gives her a brief smile. He knows he looks a fright. The dark smudges underneath his eyes are a telltale sign that he's exhausted. He studies her face and realises that she hasn't slept well either.
"I'm alright," he lies.
Her mouth turns down and she looks back to the papers in front of her.
"I'm not," she says, after a moment of silence. "I wish—"
"We can't." Draco hopes she can't hear the tremble in his voice as he turns to face the front of the class. "No more or it'll be difficult for us—for you when the term ends."
Her disbelieving laugh is short and sharp.
"You mean, when you plan on dying?"
Draco winces. "Granger, not now. Please." He clenches his hand into a fist to stop himself from reaching for her. Reluctantly, he adds, "We can talk tonight."
"Really?"
The hope in her voice is crushing.
"Yes. Tonight. I'll come by your room."
Draco collapses onto the floor beside Hermione, his breathing laboured.
Turning to look at her, he finds her staring at him with wide, confused eyes.
In all fairness, he had come to her room with the sole intention of discussing their situation but when her hand tried to encircle his wrist, he had her nightgown over her head within seconds.
"That was..." she starts to say, her palm pressed against her sternum as it rises and falls in unsteady movements. Draco lifts a hand to cover his face.
"That wasn't supposed to happen." He sighs, disappointed in his self-control.
Hermione shifts, snuggling into his side. Unbidden, his arm wraps around her shoulders until her head rests on his chest. She circles his hipbone with gentle strokes of her fingers.
"Why are you fighting this?" she asks sadly. "Why don't you believe I'd be happy with you? That we could be happy together?"
He stills her hand by covering it with his own.
"You know why."
"Because you don't want to hold me back, I know, I know. But you're wrong."
He opens one eye to glare at the mop of curls tucked underneath his chin. She lifts her leg to drape it across his thigh and he shudders.
"Hermione—"
"Think of the alternative, Draco. We could have such a good life together," she continues. "We could study, or travel. Whatever you'd like. We could get a flat in Diagon Alley, and wake up early to eat breakfast together, and I could take you to the cinema—"
"Cinema?"
"—it's a Muggle thing, I'll tell you later, and we could both—"
"Hermione, stop ."
She does, her breath hitching in an effort to curb her enthusiasm. Draco strokes his hand down the side of her naked torso before turning them both so that he hovers above her. With one knee between her thighs, he stares down at her.
"This is why I didn't want us to start sleeping together in the first place," he says. "You're already imagining a life with me after Hogwarts, as if our problems won't chase us out into the real world."
"Every person has their troubles, Draco. You can't protect me from mine."
"But I can prevent you from mine."
When Draco drags himself away from Hermione and back to his room, he nearly jumps out of his skin to see Luna sitting on his bed with her arms folded tightly against her body.
He's about to ask her if something is wrong when she holds up a slip of paper between her index and middle finger.
He rolls his eyes at his own stupidity. "Fuck."
He forgot to put the note away.
Luna holds it out, waving it in front of her.
"What is this, Draco?" she asks, and for the first time since he's known her, Luna sounds scared. She shifts, uncrossing her legs from underneath her.
Draco approaches cautiously, holding a hand out to take the parchment.
"It's nothing," he says. "Just a prank."
"A prank," Luna repeats, disbelief colouring her voice. "Are you serious? Do you expect me to believe that?"
"Luna, I swear—"
"No." She tosses it to the bedside table. "Someone threatened Hermione. And the fact that you seem pretty calm about this means that you've been getting these… these threats for a while now."
"They're not real. Luna, I swear." Draco takes the parchment and turns to the desk to file it away with the rest of them. "If they were real threats, the person would have gone through with at least one of them by now."
"What kind of notes have there been before this?"
Draco shrugs. "Just. The usual, you know."
A hand on his arm makes him pause, and he turns to see Luna looking at him with fiery eyes. In the lamplight, she looks like a force to be reckoned with. She shakes her head slowly, her mouth set in a grim line.
"No," she says solemnly. "I don't know."
For the briefest fraction of a second, Draco considers lying to her.
Then, he remembers just how fucking tired he is.
He sits in his desk chair and pulls open the drawer. Immediately, Luna lunges for the scraps as if she thinks he might change his mind at any moment.
"They've been coming since school started." He thinks back to the exact date. "Two weeks after our first day."
He watches as she sifts through the notes, her eyes flitting from parchment to parchment as she reads. Her mouth moves silently and her eyes grow wider with each message.
When a single tear rolls down her cheek and drips onto the hardwood desk, Draco stands and places a gentle hand on Luna's wrist.
"Stop."
She bats him away. "I'm fine."
Draco doesn't listen, tugging the bundle of notes from her hand and tossing them back into their drawer. He slides it shut before gently steering Luna back to his bed. He kneels in front of her, his palms on her knees.
"Listen to me," he says. "Use that Ravenclaw mind of yours and think about this logically. What kind of person writes all these threats—six months worth of them—and doesn't do anything else? Doesn't even try something?"
"Someone…who's probably waiting for you to graduate."
Draco sighs. "I don't think so. They've had plenty of opportunities when I go to Hogsmeade. Open space, vulnerable target. It would be easy to kill me there and they haven't yet, so I doubt they'll try in the future."
Luna starts chewing on her lip speculatively. One of her knees starts to bounce up and down under Draco's palm and he waits for her next theory.
Finally, she says, "This was the only one about Hermione? I couldn't see any more about her."
Draco dips his chin. "The only thing I can think of is that she and I had breakfast in Hogsmeade on Sunday."
Luna's eyes grow to saucers. "You think they saw you there?" she asks, her voice dropping to a hush. "Someone from school, maybe? Or… I don't know, a disgruntled shopkeeper?"
"I can't be certain," Draco replies, shrugging his shoulders. "Whoever they are, they're clever. They've left no traces on their notes. I've tried everything, but I can't figure out where they come from."
He turns, sinking down to sit on the floor with his back against the side of the bed. Luna slides down to join him. She hugs her knees to her chest.
"There is something you haven't tried yet, you know," she says, tentatively. "Something that might solve this whole mess and keep you both safe."
"What."
"Telling an adult."
"Piss off."
Luna inhales a sharp breath and elbows Draco.
"Your life is being threatened and you're seriously not going to even entertain the idea of getting someone involved? The headmistress? Or even the Ministry?"
"No."
"Why, Draco? What reason could you possibly have?"
Draco leans his head back against the mattress. He's never told this to anyone before now.
"Do you remember, at the beginning of the year, when I told you that my freedom was out of my hands?" he asks.
Luna hums in answer, running her fingers along the sequined hem of her trousers.
"Well," Draco continues, "it's the same for my mother. Her freedom is out of her hands."
"Explain."
"It's in my hands."
"Explain more."
"My mother's on house arrest until June, and she'll go free if I graduate without any issues. And if she remains under house arrest without causing trouble, I get to be free after Hogwarts."
Luna frowns, deep in thought. "Your freedom is... circumstantial on the other's behaviour?"
"Correct."
"So you're not going to risk going to the authorities because you're worried that it might cause some issue with your mother's release from house arrest?"
"Yes. I don't trust the Ministry. I can't afford to risk her freedom."
"And what about Hermione?"
Draco shuts his eyes. "What about her?"
"Don't be like that, Draco," Luna chastises him. "She's in this now. She's being threatened, remember? You can't erase that, now that they know you're together."
"No." Draco exhales slowly., "We're not going to be together, Luna. It's done. It's over."
An uncomfortable silence follows his statement.
Suddenly, Luna shoves a hand against his shoulder.
"Fuck you, Draco Malfoy," she says.
Draco opens his eyes, turning his head to raise an eyebrow at her.
"What?"
"It's over ?" Luna shakes her head. "So not only is she your mate, but she's now being threatened and you think it's a good idea to break it off?"
"It's the only thing to do, Lu—"
"Imagine if something happened to her."
"Don't—"
"Listen!" Luna shouts. "For once in your life, listen. Forget your own issues and think about it logically. This person's not angry at you for being with her because they think you don't deserve her. That's your issue with the situation. They're angry at you because they think of her as an inferior being. They're one of them , Draco. How is that not terrifying you? Imagine if this awful person got to her and hurt her. They clearly hate Muggleborns, and she's the most famous Muggleborn in the Wizarding world. So, what happens if they kidnapped her? What happens if they torture her?"
Draco's head starts to throb with pain and he drops it into his hands.
"Luna, stop—"
She doesn't stop. "What happens if she dies because you left her defenceless? What happens if she dies thinking you didn't love her enough to save her?"
"Luna," he chokes out, and then there's a piercing light blinding his vision that leaves him incapacitated. He can taste blood in his mouth.
He doesn't know how long it's been, but there's a ringing in his ears and the warmth of a hand on his shoulder.
He lifts his head to see Luna looking at him with sad eyes.
"What happened?" he asks, but he knows already. He's seen it happen to Hermione enough to know that he became unresponsive.
"You went a little quiet for a few moments," Luna murmurs, before patting his back. "But, Draco, you have to listen to me now."
"What, Luna?" He twists his neck to look at her and watches as she steels herself. Then, in her lilting voice, she says,
"You can't run from this. At some point, you have to accept the situation and deal with it. No running. No sacrificing yourself when there's another way."
"But she—"
"She deserves to be happy, I know. I know. You've said it a million times, but let me ask you one thing." She pauses to give him a sad smile. "Wasn't she happy when she was with you last weekend?"
"That's beside the poi—"
"I know you're going to tell me it was just physical but you forget that I'm not an idiot. I saw you smiling. I saw her smiling. Gods," she breaks off, and he sees her eyes filling with tears. "I haven't seen her like that in—It's the most I've seen either of you looking happy in so many years, Draco. Why don't you just give it a chance?"
He scoffs.
"You're acting like choosing to be with her is like buying a coat that I can return, Luna. It's not. This is her life. Her entire life. She didn't ask for this, but if I let her choose me over herself, she'll live her whole life as a half instead of a whole. I can't let her sacrifice herself for me, and I won't drag her into whatever that ," he breaks off to gesture at the desk, "is. I won't let her become a target."
Luna pokes him in the thigh.
"She's already a target. Did I not just say she's the most famous Muggleborn witch? Everyone knows her, Draco. They know who she is and what she did during the war, you can't pretend that it's not true."
"But imagine the most famous Muggleborn witch with the ex-Death Eater beside her. Imagine how she would be crucified by public opinion."
"You don't have much faith in her strength of character."
"It's not about her strength of character," Draco manages to say, his voice barely held together for lack of control. "It's about her future."
Hermione tries to preoccupy herself with as many activities as she can possibly fit into her day.
Anything to take her mind off last night.
After the previous night's slip up, she realised she needed space from Draco in order to think clearly because being with him behind closed doors is a recipe for disaster.
Sex with him is amazing, she concedes.
But it's not everything.
Hermione wants his laughter and his intelligent observations, and his snarky wit. She wants to debate him and dance with him. She wants to lie down with her head on his chest, falling asleep to the beat of his heart.
She wants to know what it is to be as happy and content as the couples that surround her in the common room every evening.
Tonight, she sits by the fire with Parvati, who has decided to try her hand at embroidering without magic.
"I don't know how Muggles can do it," her friend grumbles. "They must either be incredibly patient or have fingers made of steel."
Hermione looks up from her book. "They do," she says.
"What?" Parvati frowns at the bloodstains on the cloth.
"They're called thimbles. They cover your fingertips," Hermione breaks off to wiggle her fingers, "so that needles don't poke through your skin."
"Oh, right. Makes sense." Parvati sighs and throws the cloth, thread and needle into the fire. "Fuck it, I can't be bothered."
"Oi, you stupid bitch!" Padma shouts across the room. "That was my shirt!"
Hermione raises an eyebrow as she turns a page. "That was an overreaction," she agrees.
Parvati rolls her eyes, throwing a vulgar gesture in her sister's direction. "It's fine. She's always taking my things, anyway."
Hermione smothers a smile behind her hand.
After a few moments, she feels the toe of a shoe poking into her thigh. She looks up and her friend takes a deep breath.
"So," Parvati starts to say, fidgeting with the hem of her jumper, "I was wondering how you've been because… Well, I haven't seen you around for ages. You're always busy studying or resting."
Hermione shuts her book, placing it on the arm of her chair.
"I'm really sorry." She draws her knees up. "I've just been so—"
"No!" Parvati interrupts loudly. "No, it's not—I mean, please don't apologise.I'm not upset. I'm glad ."
Hermione hesitates.
"You are?" she asks. "Why?"
Parvati gives her a knowing smile but shakes her head.
"I don't know," she says. "You just have this… this glow about you. Like—"
"Parvati," Hermione interjects, worried that her cheeks are already on their way to turning scarlet. "It's not like that."
"Like what?" Parvati asks, sounding overly innocent. Hermione throws a cushion in her direction.
"Don't make it sound so salacious," she warns, trying not to laugh. "It's nothing, I'm just feeling a lot more like myself."
In an effort to steer Parvati away from the subject that she's dangerously close to broaching, Hermione decides to be a little more forthcoming about something else.
"Anyway, I wanted to tell you something," she says, leaning forward. There aren't many people in the common room but she doesn't need anyone else knowing. "But you have to keep it between us."
Parvati nods, her eyes wide. "I promise."
"You know how you've been speaking to Trelawney, sort of like therapy?"
"Yeah?"
Hermione shrugs her shoulders. "I've been doing the same thing. I started a few weeks ago and she's really helped me out—"
Parvati's eyes grow shiny and Hermione cuts off abruptly, alarmed by her reaction.
"No," her friend says, swatting a rogue tear from her cheek. "I'm fine. I'm just… I'm just really happy to hear that, Hermione. I've been so worried about you."
Even though she knows this already, the vocalisation of her friend's concern is a kick in the chest for Hermione.
"I'm sorry," she says, feeling guilty. "You shouldn't have to be worried about me like that. Not with what you went through. I've been so caught up in myself that I didn't realise you were concerned about me."
A warm hand covers her own and Hermione looks up to see Parvati smiling at her with shiny, fierce eyes.
"Your trauma is no less that mine," she says kindly. "You fought in the war. You lost people. Don't think for a moment that I consider your struggle unimportant."
"But—"
"My best friend died and it hurts every day." Parvati's voice breaks. "You lost your Mum and Dad, Hermione. You're hurting."
Hermione dips her head, looking at the fire. "It's better now. I'm happier now."
"Because of Professor Trelawney?"
Again, Hermione nods, but her eyes fill with tears.
"Yes," she says. "Trelawney."
5th March 1999
Dean is teaching Hermione how to play rummy when Luna drops down into one of the empty seats at the table.
"May I speak with you, Hermione?" she asks. "It's a little bit urgent."
Hermione nods, still focusing on the game in front of her. "Sure."
Dean looks up from his hand of cards and clears his throat. "Er, should I go?"
Luna nods, smiling apologetically. "Please don't take it personally, Dean. I just need a few moments and you can get back to this."
Dean carefully lays his cards facing down against the table and points to Hermione with a suspicious glare.
"No cheating," he warns her, and looks back to Luna. "Don't let her look, okay?"
Hermione laughs, throwing her cards down as she watches Dean walk over to sit with Neville and Theo.
"What's wrong?"
Luna drums her fingers against the table. "You know, I promised Draco I'd stay out of your relationship," she says. "And I have. Mostly. I mean, I've interfered here and there but—"
"Luna," Hermione interrupts, "you said it was urgent. Is everything okay?"
"No."
"What is it, then?"
Luna starts to jiggle her leg up and down.
"I know that he's told you he won't be with you because he wants to save you, and all that, and I know you think it's rubbish."
Hermione nods. "That's correct."
"So," Luna continues, "I can't tell you what he told me because he made me promise, but what you need to know is that, under all his bravado and stubbornness, he's just a traumatised, hormonal, part-avian teenage boy. He thinks that if he pushes you away, you'll eventually grow tired of him and leave of your own free will. Do you know what that means?"
Hermione frowns. "You know I would never grow tired—"
"It means that he's not thinking properly. He's so caught up with trying to protect you from this situation that he's not being clever or practical in any way. His only goal is keeping you safe, but I fear that he might be putting you in danger by pushing you away."
"Wait, what?"
"Which is why I think you might be able to wear him down by proving to him that you're not going anywhere."
"But, Luna," Hermione says, feeling helpless. "He won't let me."
"Please. You know what he's planning." Luna looks at her imploringly. "Please try, Hermione."
For a moment, all the fierceness that has built up in Luna's eyes over the past few months fizzles away and Hermione is reminded that this is a girl who has lived a lonely, tragic life; a girl who is desperate to hold on to the very little family she has left.
Hermione covers her friend's hand with her own and sets her jaw.
"I'll do my best."
Draco is half asleep when he hears a soft knock on his door.
He's out of his bed within the next second. He pulls the door open to see Hermione standing there, and, just like that, it's as if they're back to their old routine. She looks up at him with her wide brown eyes and his heart drops.
She looks so small in the doorway, her robe swamping her frame. Draco waits for her to speak and when she doesn't, he steps aside to let her come in.
"What's wrong?" is the only thing he can think to say. She turns around to face him once she's standing by his bed, and she tilts her chin in the direction of the door. He shuts it.
"This is ridiculous," she says. For a moment, Draco is paralysed by the fear that Luna went straight to Hermione and revealed the truth about the notes. When she pushes off her robe and slides under the covers, he sighs with relief. She sits back against the headboard.
"What are you doing?" he asks.
She yawns, her hands twisting her curls into a loose hairstyle. "I'm plaiting my hair," she says, "and then I'm going to sleep."
Draco cautiously approaches the bed. "But why are you here ?"
He watches her tie off the end of her plait with one of the stretchy Muggle hair rings that she used to lose underneath his pillow. She slips down, covering her shoulder with the duvet.
"I'm here because I'm tired of lying awake all night, wishing I was here with you instead of being by myself. And," she pauses to prop herself up on her elbow, "I know we can't sleep together in that way until you realise that I'm not going anywhere."
"But—"
"So," she goes on without listening to him. "We might as well go back to the way things were before. That's my proposition for you. Until the end of the year; until your stupid plan goes into motion, we sleep in the same bed. If you're planning on," she breaks off to glare at him in place of saying the actual words, "then I want to make the most of this while I can. You owe me that much. So… you can either get into bed or you can sleep on the blasted floor, but I'm sleeping here."
Draco stays where he is, standing stock still. Hermione looks up at him fiercely, the challenge laid out between them.
"You…you want to sleep?" he asks. " Just sleep?"
Hermione nods, flopping back to the pillow.
"I'm tired, Draco," she says in a small voice, "aren't you?"
Draco watches as she closes her eyes, her skin reflecting the flicker of the candle standing on the table beside her. He waits a moment to see if this is a hallucination. When she rolls onto her stomach and burrows her face into the pillow, he decides not to fight it.
Carefully, he lowers himself into the bed, shuffling closer to her. When his knee brushes against her ankle, she hums contentedly.
Draco falls asleep before his mind can begin to overthink the situation.
6th March 1999
Hermione wakes up to the feeling of strong arms squeezing her tightly. She tries to breathe deeply only to find that her lungs are being constricted. Wriggling, she turns to find herself held down against Draco's chest, his body half-covering hers. The arm underneath her digs into her ribs.
Draco is sound asleep, his face buried in the crook of her neck.
"Hello," she croaks, her throat dry. "Draco? Wake up, you're hurting me."
He groans and snuggles closer, and the hardness pressed between them is even more apparent now. Hermione feels torn between arousal and annoyance, because she never had to deal with this problem when they first started sleeping in the same bed.
He's too strong.
"You're crushing me," she tries again, wheezing softly. "Oh, Merlin, please wake up."
"G'sleep," he mumbles. "'S'was a good'dea."
His arms loosen ever so slightly.
She smiles.
20th March 1999
Draco sits on the bleachers that overlook the quidditch pitch, sharing a Muggle cigarette with his two best friends. They've cast a shield around themselves to keep warm and dry, because the weather has turned and it's already starting to rain.
"Where did you get this, anyway?" he asks, hating the way it tastes. "Don't tell me you bought it yourself."
Theo takes a drag, makes a face and passes the cigarette to Blaise.
"Confiscated it from a fourth year last night during patrols."
Blaise's reply dissolves into a fit of coughing. Theo thumps his back with a laugh and Draco plucks the cigarette from between Blaise's fingers.
They sit in silence and Draco is grateful that his friends persevered in dragging him out here. He doesn't know exactly what Theo knows about his situation; Luna is far too difficult to predict, but he appreciates the fact that this excursion managed to take his mind off his burdens for a little while, at least.
He breathes in another lungful of smoke and feels a tug at his heartstrings. Looking up, he regards the dark, gloomy towers of the castle in the distance. It feels like his chest is burning from the smoke, and then he realizes that it's not his chest at all. It's the muscles in his back.
Something is wrong.
The weather is not kind today, with storm clouds brewing overhead and an unusually icy chill seeping its way into the castle.
Hermione stays in the common room all day, snuggled into the corner of one of the larger sofas with a blanket draped across her legs. Her Ancient Runes textbook sits heavily on her legs and she yawns as she turns a page. Parvati, Pansy, Daphne and her little sister Astoria are sitting on the rug in front of her, poring over the latest copy of Witch Weekly. According to Daphne, this month's issue contains a detailed list of the most eligible bachelors in the Wizarding world, and the girls are determined to find a man for every one of the single friends. Including Hermione.
They've been showing her potential candidates for the past hour.
"What about him?" Pansy asks, holding up the magazine once more, one beautifully manicured nail tapping the page in question. Hermione rolls her eyes.
"Seriously? Viktor Krum?"
Daphne giggles with Astoria. "You were involved with him before, why not try again?"
Hermione imagines the look on Draco's face if he were here to overhear this conversation and she can't help but smile.
"I think I'll pass on him, too." Because my Veela mate would slaughter the poor fellow if he got within a kilometre of me. "But thanks, guys. I really appreciate you looking out for me."
Parvati shoots Hermione a suspicious look before she turns her attention back to the magazine.
Before Hermione can resume reading, someone starts hammering away on the door to the common room and Neville runs over to open it. Ginny stumbles through, out of breath. She breathes a word of thanks to Neville before tearing across the room.
"What is it?" Hermione asks, preparing for the worst possible news as Ginny throws herself onto the sofa beside her. "What's wrong?"
"Listen. I've no time, I ran up as fast as I could to warn you," Ginny pants, a hand pressed to her chest. "They're here. I don't know why they decided to show up but I thought you'd want some warning since they've been cold bastards for the entire year so far."
Hermione throws aside her book. " Who , Ginny? Who's here?"
Ginny closes her eyes for a moment as her breathing regulates before opening them again.
"Ron and Harry."
Parvati rises from where she was lying on the rug, locking her gaze with Hermione's as her mouth falls open.
"Oh, fuck."
Hermione has barely a moment to process the information that Ginny gave her before her mind kicks into overdrive and she has a momentary panic.
What if they know something?
"Why?" she asks. Parvati comes to sit on the other side of her. "They've not… they've not said why they came? Did you write? Or, did one of them—"
"No!" Ginny shrugs her shoulders. "I'm the same as you, Hermione. I've not heard from either one of them in weeks, and I can't imagine why they'd show up randomly. I can only guess that it's to see us. But… but I know things are difficult because they've, you know."
"Yeah."
"Did you miss a letter from one of them, maybe?" Parvati speculates, but Hermione knows she hasn't.
Ginny shakes her head, too. "I didn't want them to arrive up here without warning and give you a fright. I'm sorry I couldn't tell you before. I just saw them in the entryway while I was getting some fruit from the kitchens and I ran up to tell you," she says. "I'm sorry. I know this is really odd."
Hermione places her hand on Ginny's arm and smiles as reassuringly as she can. It's sweet of her friend to worry this much, but in all honesty, she hasn't given Ron or Harry much thought in the past month.
"It's okay, Gin," she says. "I'll be fine. And you'll be fine, too. You know that, right? Ron's your brother. Nothing bad is going to happen."
"Right."
There's a knock at the door and Hermione's heart jumps as Parvati stands to go and open it.
She smooths her sweaty palms over her jeans. "It's just Harry and Ron," she whispers to Ginny, "and… yes, they've been distant for a while now, but that doesn't matter. It'll be okay."
Ginny nods. She looks down at her hands. "Fuck," she murmurs, her voice wavering. "It feels like everything is real. It was all pretend before but now they're back, everything's real."
They walk in like they never left.
Hermione stands up, and Ginny stands with her. The atmosphere shifts and conversation in the room halts.
They look different.
She catalogues the length of their hair, the way they're standing taller. The muscles that were not there before.
There's a hard set to their mouths, too.
She doesn't know if it's because of their Auror training, or because of the war.
She doesn't know how to breathe all of a sudden.
The boys look around the room, eyes searching, and when they see Hermione and Ginny standing there together, they smile in unison. They say hello to everyone who comes up to meet them, making their way around the room until they're right in front of Hermione and Ginny.
Hermione feels Ginny's fingers interlacing with hers and she squeezes back.
Ron comes over first, and then both girls are engulfed in his hug. It's a flurry of chaos, and Hermione gets hit by two heavy walls of cologne as Harry embraces her.
"Hi," she mumbles into his shoulder.
He pulls back to look at her and she smiles up at him, trying not to appear nervous. Ginny hasn't let go of her hand. If anything, she's holding on even tighter than before.
"Hey, Hermione," Harry says, grinning easily. "It's great to see you."
Ron slings his arm around Ginny's shoulders. "How've you girls been?"
Hermione nods her head. "Fine," she says. "We're fine."
"We're good," Ginny nods. "We haven't heard from you in ages, though."
Ron looks abashed and he scratches his head, and suddenly it's like he's thirteen years old again.
"Sorry," he says. "We were—"
"Busy." Hermione looks at him with a question on her face, and he averts his eyes, colour on his cheeks. "You said that the last time you wrote."
"Yeah."
Harry nods. "Yeah," he repeats. "Auror training is… it's intense. There's so much to do."
Ron flops down onto the couch and pats the cushion.
"This is a nice place," he says, looking around. "McGonagall really did it up nice."
Hermione shifts her weight from one foot to the other, uncomfortable. Ginny finally releases her hand and she flexes it.
"We all helped to decorate it," she explains, pointing to the tapestry on the wall. "We wanted to represent all the houses."
She sinks down next to Ron and gets wedged between him and Harry. Ginny perches on the arm of the sofa, looking as if she might run off at any moment.
Conversation is stilted and awkward, and as they cover mundane, uninteresting topics in the interest of reacquainting themselves, Hermione feels something rising in her heart.
Anger.
Hermione can feel it electrifying the magic in her veins, boiling her blood. She can feel her neck tensing and her throat aching. She sits between her best friends and feels like she's in the company of strangers.
These are the two people who knew her better than anything. The two friends who ran to save her from the troll, the two brothers who saved her from the Manor.
And they're strangers now.
She can feel her breath shortening as Harry and Ron continue to talk, chatting endlessly about Auror training and everything else they've been doing for the past few months. Everything they've done with no thought to the people they left behind.
She knows that if there had been a better warning of their arrival; if there had been a letter or even a message passed through McGonagall, she would be handling it a lot better than she is.
But they didn't write, and they didn't call. She was at their side for months; for years , and they left her.
Her panic swells, and it threatens to burst out of her in a fit of anger and tears when the door opens.
Draco stands in the doorway, flanked by his best friends.
It's quieter than usual.
He steps in, and immediately hones in on where Hermione is squished between those two idiots. His hands clench into fists.
Hermione looks at him, and he can feel her distress rolling off her in waves.
He's surprised that no one else can see it, but then he notices Ginny Weasley hovering nearby with a similar look on her face and realises what has happened.
Those dumbfuck wankers showed up unannounced.
Theo murmurs something beside him, but Draco can't hear it over the blood coursing past his ears. He strides forward, brushing off a hand at his elbow.
"Granger."
Fear flashes across her face, and he knows she's worried about a confrontation. She gets up, and it's only then that Potter and Weasley notice him standing there.
"Hermione," Weasley says, "what's happened? Don't go just because Malfoy's here."
She ignores him, walking over to when Draco stands and he has to stop himself from grabbing hold of her.
"Are you alright?" he asks, his voice low so that only she can hear him. She dips her head briefly but he can see from the way her chest rises and falls erratically that she isn't remotely close to being alright.
Potter and Weasley approach in his periphery and he tries to ignore them until Potter starts tugging Hermione away from him, Weasley wedging himself between them.
"Oi, I don't know what you're playing at," the tosser says, pointing a finger at Draco, "but you're making her uncomfortable so piss off—"
Ginny is suddenly there, trying to pull her brother away from Draco.
"Listen, it's not like that, Ron," Ginny says. "It's different. He's our friend. He's not—"
"She's right!" Hermione shouts. "Stop being silly, he's not making me feel—"
"Gin, get out of the fucking way—" Weasley says, and he has the gall to pull out his wand.
Draco gently moves Ginny to the side and pats her shoulder in thanks for her valiant effort to keep her troll-brained brother away from him. He steps forward, and turns his head to where Theo and Blaise are watching with mild interest.
"Don't get involved," he instructs and Blaise just yawns.
Theo inspects his fingernails. "Please, we're not that close."
Draco smiles and turns back to where Hermione is being shielded by Saint Potter. She reaches for him, but Potter's hand bats hers away and the anger rising in Draco's body almost overflows.
"Granger," he says quietly. "Are you feeling uncomfortable at this very moment?"
Weasley and Potter both turn their heads towards her and she looks from them to Draco before nodding her head.
"Yes."
Potter looks satisfied. "There," he says. "You see? She's not—"
"Why are you feeling uncomfortable?" Draco continues, ignoring him. Hermione's mouth lifts in a small smile.
"Because my friends are being idiots," she says, before looking directly at the two idiots. "And I mean you. Not Draco."
Ginny nods, crossing her arms. "I agree."
Leveraging their shock against them, Hermione ducks underneath Potter's outstretched arm and walks over to where Draco stands.
"Ginny was right," she addresses the boys. "He's a friend to all of us. Every single eighth-year is friends with Draco Malfoy and every other Slytherin who lives here. You've come here and brought your old prejudice with you, but we don't behave that way anymore. Not here."
"Hermione, we're not prejudiced—" Weasley starts, and Draco rolls his eyes.
"No." She holds up a hand. "You're just shitty friends."
Potter's mouth falls open in shock and Draco wishes he had a camera handy.
Hermione continues.
"You left us. Ginny and I both needed you. It didn't matter that you were away at training, and both of you know that. You could have called, or written more often. You could have even visited."
"Hermione—" Potter tries to interrupt, but she carries on.
"Did you know that Susan Bones comes back to visit her little sister every month, even though she's in training too? She comes back. Every fucking month ."
Draco glances at Ginny, who has tears streaming down her face. He touches Hermione's hand, and she looks up at him.
"Do you need to get out of here?" he asks, and Weasley laughs hollowly.
"Come off it, Malfoy," he says. "They might all be your friends ,"—he spits the word out—"but don't seriously think Hermione's going anywhere with you."
"Ron…" Hermione warns, shaking her head. "Don't be rude."
"Rude?" The idiot scoffs. " I'm being rude?"
She nods. "Yes. And you're speaking for me as if I can't make decisions for myself. You came here without any warning and now you're throwing about your weight like you own the place. Ginny said it already. He's our friend. All of them are our friends. Theo, Pansy, Blaise, Daphne, and Draco. Get over it."
"Hermione, we didn't mean anything by it. Honest" Potter looks at her earnestly. "We just thought that you'd be pleased to see us—"
Weasley shakes his head in disbelief. "Merlin, we've only been gone half a year and everyone's suddenly acting like their lot," he breaks off to gesture wildly, "are good people now? What's wrong with everyone? After what they did—"
"Don't you talk about that, like they had anything to do with it," Ginny cuts him off, looking appalled. "Don't you dare."
"Ginny, stay out of this," Weasley snaps, and Ginny replies with a colourful array of curses. They start to bicker.
"Come on." Draco turns, seeing this as an opportunity to slip away from the argument, his hand at Hermione's back as he starts to lead her to the door.
"Doesn't our friendship mean anything to you anymore?" Weasley says loudly, addressing Hermione, and just like that, Draco's restraint snaps.
He was ready to leave without any issue and now, he's incensed. Turning around, he steps in front of Hermione; in front of Ginny, and faces Potter and Weasley head-on.
"Listen here," he says curtly. "You pathetic dimwits fucked off and left her here. You abandoned her like she meant nothing to you, and you let her wait on pathetically short letters that you deigned to send once in a blue moon. You fucking abandoned her, don't you get that?"
He turns to face Ron directly.
"And you, dick for brains. You left your sister to face the aftermath of the war by herself. Yes, your brother died and that was fucking horrific, but she lost him too. Your sister mourned the death of her brother by herself. You had your fuckwit best friend," he points to Potter, "and she had no one. Don't you get that? Don't you see how fucking self-absorbed you were, to leave her alone? Do you know how badly it hurt her? No. You don't, because you weren't there. You didn't come back to see her once. I would never treat my sister as badly as you have treated yours."
He can feel a deep pressure between his shoulder blades, but continues to lay into Hermione's stupid friends.
"You can't talk about friendship when you have proven yourselves to be the worst sort of friend. You left them. You left her. You left her and we all saw her fall apart without you, because she lost everything and suffered it alone. You. Her parents. She lost her life, you selfish bastards, and now you come back as if nothing has changed, talking about how I'm the one who's making her uncomfortable? You ought to be ashamed of yourselves."
He's right up in their faces now, but all of the anger in their expressions has leaked away to reveal shock.
Draco steps back and only then does he feel a small hand rubbing circles against his shoulder blades. Hermione comes into view and she lifts her hands to cup his cheeks.
"Hey," she murmurs, and when he looks down into her eyes, he sees an emotion there that he hasn't seen in a very long time.
Pride.
The thought that Hermione Granger is proud of him sends a frisson of happiness down Draco's spine. Hermione runs her thumb against his lower lip and smiles, and the other people in the room might be talking but she's the only person that matters. They all fade away.
"Let's go," she says and, before he can even think about it, he follows her out of the common space and down the corridor to her room.
Shutting the door behind her, she walks him over to the bed and uses all of her strength to push him down onto the mattress. He sits there, slightly dazed, and she crouches in front of him.
"Well," she says, "everybody knows now."