p class="MsoNormal""Draco!" She breathed, drawing him into her room, closing the door as silently as she could behind him. "How did you get in? Your mom is looking for you." She seemed to exhale all of this at him as if it had been preventing her from inhaling. He looked sideways, disinterested in her cross-examination. "The patio sliding door was open." He said in way of explanation. Hermione sunk into her desk chair, if for no other reason than to see if he would elaborate on what he was doing here. It struck her in that moment as if she were seeing him for the first time. He was still handsome, that couldn't be argued, but he had a constantly shifting force within him, like two energies at constant war. There was the quiet, self-effacing, do-anything-to-make-you-smile one and a second, darker, angrier one. One that seemed to invite argument in order to prove itself. It was his parents Hermione realized with a start. The answer was so glaringly obvious that it seemed to knock the wind out of her for a moment. Of course. Hermione suddenly felt bad for Draco in a way that she hurried to mask, knowing he would hate to see on her face. "I'm leaving. I came to see if you wanted to come with me." He spoke softly as if afraid the adults downstairs would hear him. Hermione sighed heavily. "Draco. We left. You know what happened. We came right back." A shadow crossed over Draco's face, disappearing as quickly as it had appeared. "You're right. It's a dumb idea." Hermione shook her head, sidestepping the emotion in his voice. "The way you feel is valid, but running away isn't the solution any more than it was the last time." Draco eyed her for a long moment, his expression inscrutable. "Okay." He said, and he turned for the door. Hermione could feel her stomach clench. She didn't want him to leave. She wanted him to come back towards her, to let her take him in her arms and convince him that everything would be okay. But already he was through her doorway, disappearing down the hallway. For a moment she almost forgot herself, almost ran after him, but she hung onto her desk and forced herself to stay where she was. It would be of no use. She had been on too many wild goose chases with him, it was starting to haunt her. It was as if her walk home had unlocked some new level of understanding that had been denied to her up to this point. Running away wouldn't fix anything, because there was nothing either of them could do that would fix anything. So there Hermione sat, gazing at the open door of her bedroom as if she could will Draco to return and understand as she now did./p
p class="MsoNormal"He didn't. Hermione sat, transfixed, until she heard Mal and Cissy depart, the front door shutting loudly behind them, followed by the sounds of her parents starting dinner. She could hear them laughing to one another as they cooked, and the sound was so normal, so familiar, it made her throat constrict. She felt as though she had done what she had to do, and yet it felt like a loss. She knew that somewhere out in the twilight Draco was racing, his gaze as tempestuous as the air in the Malfoy manor, his soul rebelling against his father's spirit. She had been there these last few months to help him drown out his father's voice in his head, but it had not relieved Draco as much as shifted some of the burden onto her. Hermione had accepted it, almost unwittingly, blinded by her desire to save Draco from the demons that seemed to haunt him, but she couldn't do it anymore. Not when Draco insisted on running the same routes every time the voices got too loud. It hadn't even helped him, just enabled him to keep living in this state of constant struggle. Hermione told herself all of this as she descended the stairs to dinner, pushing the cloud of guilt that seemed to be threatening her away. She had done the right thing, she had. Nothing could convince her otherwise. With this steady affirmation repeating with every step towards the kitchen, and her old life, she felt free for the first time in months./p
p class="MsoNormal"The next morning, Hermione was awoken from a dreamless sleep by her mother. "Hermione." Her mother was standing over her, a look of concern greying her normally cheerful face. "Hermione, something terrible happened last night." Hermione sat bolt upright, but the cloud that she had pushed away last night finally cracked with a thundercloud, revealing its true contents. It wasn't guilt at all, but fear. "Is it Draco?" Hermione asked, but her soul already knew. Her mother nodded. "It was all over the news this morning. His car drove off the Emmahasque bridge last night at around 2:30 am. By the time a patrol car found the wreckage, several hours had passed. I'm afraid they believe the worst."/p
p class="MsoNormal"The next few hours passed in a grey haze of anxious waiting. It seemed like a terrible intrusion to ask Mal and Cissy for updates, and yet there was no one else to ask. It hit Hermione as she sat at the kitchen island watching the local news update for what felt like the hundredth time that Draco had almost no one. Where was the community he had ostensibly been raised in? Hermione knew. In those big houses, set so far away from one another, community was gladly traded for privacy, the loss rarely observed until something dreadful happened. The perky blonde news anchor on tv was repeating the same report Hermione had already heard, the car found in the water, blood found in the car, the body presumed to be swept out to sea. The words seemed to beat a familiar patchwork into Hermione's mind, numbing her to everything but the most immediate of her senses. Her parents seemed afraid to speak to her after her mother's initial explanation, as if afraid that Hermione might spontaneously combust. Hermione felt that it would be of no help to inform them that Draco had asked her to go with him, or that she had refused to join him. Somehow she felt that it would cloud their opinion of them, and as confused as her emotions were towards him, she couldn't bear to have anyone else think anything but the best of him./p
p class="MsoNormal"He didn't. Hermione sat, transfixed, until she heard Mal and Cissy depart, the front door shutting loudly behind them, followed by the sounds of her parents starting dinner. She could hear them laughing to one another as they cooked, and the sound was so normal, so familiar, it made her throat constrict. She felt as though she had done what she had to do, and yet it felt like a loss. She knew that somewhere out in the twilight Draco was racing, his gaze as tempestuous as the air in the Malfoy manor, his soul rebelling against his father's spirit. She had been there these last few months to help him drown out his father's voice in his head, but it had not relieved Draco as much as shifted some of the burden onto her. Hermione had accepted it, almost unwittingly, blinded by her desire to save Draco from the demons that seemed to haunt him, but she couldn't do it anymore. Not when Draco insisted on running the same routes every time the voices got too loud. It hadn't even helped him, just enabled him to keep living in this state of constant struggle. Hermione told herself all of this as she descended the stairs to dinner, pushing the cloud of guilt that seemed to be threatening her away. She had done the right thing, she had. Nothing could convince her otherwise. With this steady affirmation repeating with every step towards the kitchen, and her old life, she felt free for the first time in months./p
p class="MsoNormal"The next morning, Hermione was awoken from a dreamless sleep by her mother. "Hermione." Her mother was standing over her, a look of concern greying her normally cheerful face. "Hermione, something terrible happened last night." Hermione sat bolt upright, but the cloud that she had pushed away last night finally cracked with a thundercloud, revealing its true contents. It wasn't guilt at all, but fear. "Is it Draco?" Hermione asked, but her soul already knew. Her mother nodded. "It was all over the news this morning. His car drove off the Emmahasque bridge last night at around 2:30 am. By the time a patrol car found the wreckage, several hours had passed. I'm afraid they believe the worst."/p
p class="MsoNormal"The next few hours passed in a grey haze of anxious waiting. It seemed like a terrible intrusion to ask Mal and Cissy for updates, and yet there was no one else to ask. It hit Hermione as she sat at the kitchen island watching the local news update for what felt like the hundredth time that Draco had almost no one. Where was the community he had ostensibly been raised in? Hermione knew. In those big houses, set so far away from one another, community was gladly traded for privacy, the loss rarely observed until something dreadful happened. The perky blonde news anchor on tv was repeating the same report Hermione had already heard, the car found in the water, blood found in the car, the body presumed to be swept out to sea. The words seemed to beat a familiar patchwork into Hermione's mind, numbing her to everything but the most immediate of her senses. Her parents seemed afraid to speak to her after her mother's initial explanation, as if afraid that Hermione might spontaneously combust. Hermione felt that it would be of no help to inform them that Draco had asked her to go with him, or that she had refused to join him. Somehow she felt that it would cloud their opinion of them, and as confused as her emotions were towards him, she couldn't bear to have anyone else think anything but the best of him./p