23
September 12th – Sunday – End of Week 3
The moment the hinges squeaked in protest, Draco jumped off the couch, and she was completely taken aback when he actually walked toward her. He stopped a few feet away from her but seemed to be having an internal struggle about whether or not to come closer. His eyes were wild, in a way she'd only ever seen them in Luna and Nicola's memories. She'd seen him angry or upset, but only in their memories had she seen this – fear. In the faint light of the room, the small bits of blue in his gaze were completely gone, traded with a stormy dark grey, almost black. He had scratches across one side of his face and a black eye.
"What happened to you?"
He seemed confused by her question before realization hit and he touched his face. "Nothing. Are you okay?" There wasn't so much as a beat between his sentences, like the markings on his face were completely irrelevant.
Clearly, he didn't want to talk about whatever happened to him, so she nodded and walked past him to the couch, pulling her knees up to her chest and pulling the soft throw blanket around her tightly.
He stood there halfway across the room for a moment, unmoving and his back to her before he sighed and walked to the couch to join her. They sat together in a completely awkward silence, each on their own end of the couch.
She sighed as well and dropped her head onto her knees, her face to the side so she could look out the window behind them. "Just say what you want to say." She rushed the words out before she could rethink them.
"Did he hurt you?" The words rushed out of his mouth the same way hers had, as if he were afraid he'd second guess himself as well.
"I think that's pretty obvious at this point, Draco." There was no anger in her voice.
She looked toward him and was momentarily thankful that she didn't find his eyes boring into her. That feeling was quickly replaced with confusion. He was shaking, only slightly, but enough that she could see his fingers trembling on his knee and the shaky way his chest was rising and falling. The flush on his cheeks and deep set of his jaw further perplexed her.
Was he angry? At her? At Greyback? Alys did say that some of the others were upset when Walt didn't intervene on her behalf. She hadn't given it too much thought at the time, but now the idea that Draco had been one of them, somehow comforted her.
"Did he…" He paused long enough to take a breath and swallow. "Did he rape you?" The sentence came out slower than the last, as if this time he was struggling to get his mouth to cooperate.
"No. He…" She closed her eyes and found that she couldn't say the words herself. "He did other things. He told me that Voldemort would give me to him for finding Harry." The fact that Draco never even flinched when she said Voldemort's name encouraged her to go on a bit further. "But he promised me he'd do that and much worse."
They sat in silence, and Hermione was aware that saying at least that little bit made her feel slightly better, the heavy weight bearing down on her chest since Greyback first stepped out of that cupboard had finally receded slightly. Hermione opened her eyes and saw Draco breathing deeply, but the shaking in his hands was no longer evident. His teeth were still clenched if the rolling of the muscle in his jaw was any indication. "Are you okay?" she asked, causing him to turn toward her sharply.
He scoffed derisively, and Hermione felt tears sting her eyes again.
This was a bad idea. Why did she think for a split second that he of all people would comfort her in some way? Her mind immediately brought up the image of Seamus kissing Parvati's knuckles and the way Parvati had laid her head across his back. Why the hell was she thinking about that? She and Draco weren't together? They weren't even friends, remember?
She buried her face in her knees and cursed herself for being so incredibly weak. She was crying, once again, only now it was due to allowing herself to hope for only a split second that someone would understand. Why the hell did she think it would've been him? She'd never told anyone what happened in that forest with Greyback, and for whatever reason she'd shared more of it with him than anyone else. Just that one sentence to him was more than she'd ever told Harry, Ron, Ginny, or even Alys for that matter, and now she felt like a complete idiot for having shared it with him. The fact that he asked, though, was more than anyone else had ever done. Ron seemed to know something had happened to her during the war, based on her panicked breaths and shaking limbs any time he ever touched her, but he never asked. Not that I would have told him anyway.
Lost in her thoughts and her never-ending slew of self-directed insults, she didn't realize he'd slid across the couch and was now directly in front of her.
"Do you… Do you think I'm upset with you?"
She felt his hands on her arm, but she couldn't force herself to look at him, now while she was still trying to hold herself together. "No, I'm not okay. I'm fucking angry… but not with you, alright? I'm upset that I made you feel like you should be worried about me after what you just went through. And I'm pissed off that that fucking animal put his hands on you. And I'm reliving every single second of having to watch…" He took a shaky breath. "Of having to watch him do that to a dozen women and not being able to do anything about it. And I'm angry because he's already dead and I can't go fucking kill him right now."
He ended his rant breathing like he'd just run a marathon, and Hermione slowly lifted her head to find him staring at her, his face only inches from her own. He lifted his hand from her arm and hesitated for a split second before placing it to her cheek, just as she'd done to him the night before. "I'm sorry."
The warmth of his hand on her cheek seemed to relinquish the sensation that the boggart's touch left on her skin, and she found herself leaning into him without meaning to. His exhale huffed across her skin, and she realized that this was the first time she'd openly been touched by someone in any such intimate way without recoiling from it. "I'm sorry that you went through that. Before and now. I can't believe they just fucking let that happen."
He jerked away from her, raising his voice on the last sentence, causing her to flinch. "How the hell do they think that helped you?"
"Please, stop." The anxiety in her voice was completely transparent, and he turned back to look at her, his face instantly morphing from anger to guilt.
"Sorry. I'm…"
"Angry," she finished for him, with a slight smile.
"Yeah." He didn't return the smile, but his brow relaxed. He shifted back to his side of the couch, and Hermione realized that she didn't want him that far away. He had consoled her in some strange way with his vindictive anger both on her behalf and for all… Her thoughts broke off as she ran back over what he said. "Of having to watch him do that to a dozen women and not being able to do anything about it."
"What did you mean? About having to watch –"
"Exactly what it sounds like. All those lovely people that my father welcomed into our home had seriously fucked up ideas regarding their own entitlement. You saw how they treated Lovegood. Greyback was the worst." He paused and began spinning the ring on his pinky again. "You know your life is really fucked when you're hoping it's just the normal type of debauchery you have to witness rather than having to watch him actually eat someone afterwards."
She shuddered, trying in vain not to picture Greyback sinking his teeth into Lavender's thighs. She shook the image from her head and found him looking at her. "I really don't want to talk about that, Granger."
She hoped to steer the conversation away from that topic, so she said, "I thought we agreed that we weren't going by surnames anymore."
He gave her a half-smile and replied, "Actually, we agreed that you'd call me Draco. I remember nothing of having to say the mouthful you call a name."
Hermione stretched her legs out as she typically did, trying to get the images of all that Draco had just told her out of her mind.
"What happened to your face?"
He absently rubbed a hand across his cheek. "Well, apparently Seamus and I agree on one thing at least. He demanded that Walt intervene the moment the boggart actually touched you, but Walt disagreed. Finally, after you dropped your wand, Seamus tried to throw a curse at it, but Walt put a shield up. I took the ricochet to the face."
"Wait, Seamus tried to help me?"
When Draco nodded, she added, "But what does that have to do with you two agreeing on something?"
A slight flush began to rise up the collar of his shirt. "I… Walt wouldn't let me help."
She was still confused, and Draco turned away from her to look across the room again.
Why does this embarrass him?
He inhaled deeply and explained the rest all in one breath. "Seamus yelled at Walt but Walt, being the pretentious arse that he is, refused to listen. I tried to get to you, and again Walt stopped it, so I punched him. Then Seamus tried to stun the boggart and Walt threw a shield up. I took it to the face instead, then there was a lot of yelling, and finally Alys cast the charm and got rid of the boggart before it could actually kill you. That's about it."
She shook her head trying to make sense of it all. "That's… that's a lot to take in." She took a moment to think and twisted her hair up into a knot, securing it in place with her wand. "I'm very confused as to why Seamus would help me given his clear hatred toward me. Two, why in the world would you punch Walt and how are you even still here afterward? And, why would Walt so adamantly resist intervening when I was obviously in-fucking-capable of taking care of myself?"
Mimicking the same way she'd lifted her fingers to count off each question, Draco did the same with his answers. "I don't think Seamus hates you nearly as much as he likes to let on. I am an idiot, obviously. Susan and Alys also thought Walt went too far, so they didn't kick me out. And I'm pretty sure I already answered the last one. He's a pretentious arse."
He very clearly did not want to talk about the fact that he'd punched Walt… for her; she couldn't wrap her head around it either. The events of the last six hours were much too heavy, and she really didn't want to think about them. So, she shifted further down, taking her normal spot on the couch, and said, "Okay."
"Okay?"
"I don't really want to think about it anymore."
"Okay."
She looked at him over the blanket she'd tugged close to her chest. He seemed to deliberate for a moment before he asked, "Do… do you want me to stay?"
"Please."
He seemed unaware that she was able to see him from where she was laying, and her heart did a strange flip in her chest when one side of his mouth turned up into an almost smile.
"You can lie down this time." Something in her words caused him to face her, and he blinked a few times when he noticed her staring at him.
"I can sit somewhere else and still stay. I don't –"
"Draco, shut up."
So, he did. He took his shoes off and threw his long legs up beside hers. She kicked the bottom of the blanket, offering him half, and he shifted down on the couch to get comfortable. When he stopped moving, she took a moment to try to breathe and push away all the images of the day as well as her normal over analysis of everything. She threw one leg over his, giving him room between hers to put his own.
"Draco?"
"Hmm?"
"Thank you."
"You're welcome, Gra – Hermione."
Despite the day's awful events, she fell asleep with a smile on her lips.
Hermione woke up to Draco's leg shifting beneath hers. She lifted herself up, straightening her t-shirt in the process, and found him attempting to extricate himself from their tangle of limbs.
"I was trying not to wake you," he said, as he reached for his shoes.
"It's fine. I… I guess I have to face everyone at some point." She glanced down at her watch and realized that it was already well into breakfast. She hadn't slept so late in a year. She took a quick inventory at realizing that she'd actually slept in and found that other than her neck being stiff from leaning on the arm of the couch, she actually felt great.
She couldn't remember the last time she'd actually gotten eight hours of sleep, whether broken up over the night or in one go, and she felt more refreshed than she'd felt since her nightmares began.
She sat up, and out of habit, her hand went directly to her hair. She'd inadvertently fallen asleep with it still pinned in place by her wand, and she pulled it out now, letting her curls loose. She ran a hand through her hair, hoping she didn't look too much like a kneazle.
"You're wasting your time. It may actually look better than it did last night."
She shot him a look, and he only shrugged. She took a second to gauge his appearance as well. The dark circles beneath his eyes had faded considerably, and he looked much less pallid than he had a few days ago, certainly better than he'd looked on their first day here. It occurred to her then that maybe being with someone at night was just as much a comfort to him as it was to her.
However, one disadvantage of his improved complexion was that the bruise covering his left eye was even more prevalent. The spattering of small abrasions stood out in stark contrast across one cheekbone. It hadn't looked nearly as noticeable in the faint light last night. He rubbed a hand absentmindedly down his face and winced, likely having forgotten about the wounds from the night before until the stab of pain reminded him.
He sighed and stood up, lifting his arms above his head in an extravagant stretch. His back was to her, thankfully. She'd lie until she was blue in the face if anyone ever asked, but she couldn't resist taking the opportunity to appreciate him from this angle.
She tried not to actually think about the fact that she was currently marveling at the ass of Draco Malfoy at the moment, but hell, she hadn't actually properly checked someone out in far too long. Hermione had always been pragmatic, and if the occasion presented itself, she wasn't above getting an eyeful.
His arms were still lifted above his head, his fingers twined together, as he shifted up onto the balls of his feet. With this slight change of angle, the hem of his shirt rose above his chinos, and from her seat behind and to the left of him, Hermione got an exquisite view of one hip and a sharp angular muscle that ran diagonally from there to inside the seam of his pants. Hermione swallowed as she felt an unfamiliar yet altogether pleasant stirring in her abdomen at the sight. She'd only ever seen Harry and Ron without their shirts on before, and neither of them had any musculature like that. He moved his hands to rest on the nape of his neck, and her eyes moved to the distinct lines and ridges of his biceps pressing through the sleeves of his Oxford. She wasn't at all prepared for it. His stance hadn't changed at all to give her any forewarning to stop this reprehensible ogling of him, but just then he shifted to the left, twisting only his upper body, presumably to stretch the kinks from his lower back after sleeping on this cramped couch for two nights in a row. But, the second his face turned toward her, there was no hiding the fact that she was currently gawking at him, slack-jawed in a most undignified manner.
She snapped her mouth closed, cursing herself for being such an idiot for the first time that day, but if recent history was any indication, it certainly wouldn't be her last. She dropped her head quickly, trying to hide the obvious flush she felt on her cheeks.
idiot. idiot. idiot. idiot.
She stood and made it halfway to the door before he said, "You've forgotten your shoes, Hermione." There was definitely no denying that he knew now; his voice was utterly dripping with arrogance. She turned slowly but refused to look at his face at all as she took the ten or so steps back toward the couch, knowing full well that his characteristic infernal smirk was plastered on his face.
As she sat back on the couch to lace her trainers, she had to force out of her head the recurring thought to obliviate him. By the time she was done, thank Merlin he'd already left the room.
After brushing her teeth and giving her appearance a quick once-over, she headed for the kitchen, thinking she'd grab something quick since breakfast was already over, but she could hear shouting from the dining room before she even made it there.
It sounded like Seamus, but she couldn't make out what he was saying. When she rounded the corner into the kitchen, she heard Walt's voice, much calmer than Seamus's had been.
"I told you the situation had been contained. There was no risk to yourself or any of the others if there had been another magical explosion."
"You think that's what I was worried about?" Seamus' voice boomed across the dining room and into the kitchen, his words much clearer than they'd been before. "It never crossed my mind that she might do that again. I was more concerned with his hand around her fucking throat."
Hermione heard Parvati's voice but couldn't understand the words. It sounded like she was trying to quell Seamus's anger.
"No, no," Seamus roared. "He needs to hear this. You keep saying this is unchartered territory and all that shite, but you don't get to fuck around with us for the sake of learning something new!"
"I agree, Walt." Nicola's voice was much more controlled but still forceful. "She could've really gotten hurt. And how is being assaulted helping her recovery at all?"
"And how the hell are we supposed to trust one another if you wouldn't even let anyone help her? Did you expect us to just sit and watch that happen?" Seamus had calmed down a bit. His words were no longer being shouted, but his rage behind them was still evident.
Hermione took a shaky breath. It was comforting that these people were actually concerned for her, people whom days prior she thought were only barely tolerating her. But she didn't think she could face them right now. Even knowing that they'd wanted to help her wasn't enough to suppress the humiliation at needing to be rescued to begin with, and that wasn't even taking into consideration the shame of being groped and manhandled in front of an audience.
She took a step backward, hoping to retreat from the kitchen without being noticed, but she collided with something hard and felt hands grasp either side of her waist as she stumbled. She jumped at the contact and turned to find Draco holding onto her. He let go when she was firmly back on her feet and said, "You don't have anything to be ashamed of, you know. It's okay to need help sometimes… or at least that's what Susan keeps telling me."
I guess he heard as much of that as I did. She shuffled her feet uncomfortably, once again not meeting his gaze. She was so sick of crying, and the last thing she wanted was for him to think that she was always blubbering. She started to step by him, but he reached out and gently grabbed her arm.
"If you run away from it now, it'll just keep getting easier to run. Believe me, I know." His gaze fell for a split second to the floor, but he quickly recovered. He didn't give her a chance to respond before he let go of her arm and walked into the dining room to join the others.
The conversation halted completely when he entered the room, and Hermione took a moment to breathe and try to calm her racing heart and thoughts before she followed behind him.
Even if she hadn't just heard their conversation from the other room, it would have been explicitly obvious that they were talking about her. The moment she came into view every single eye in the room quickly flashed toward her. A few had the decency to look away just as quickly, but others, Walt, Seamus, and Alys, continued to stare. They all seemed to be looking her over for injuries, their eyes lingering briefly on her throat. She'd noticed before leaving her bathroom the distinct marks around her neck from where the boggart had sunk its fingers into the soft flesh beneath her chin. There was nothing to be done about it. She didn't even bring any makeup with her here, she'd never bothered to learn concealment charms for something as trivial as this, and of course, she didn't have a turtleneck. So, she tried holding her head up high and ignoring the stares. She reminded herself as she sat down that nobody here was judging her for her failure. Instead, they had all seemed genuinely upset about her being attacked. Besides, Draco was right; she couldn't run from it. She lived with these people, after all. Where would she go, anyway?
She poured herself a cup of tea and asked Dennis to pass the muffins, willing herself not to focus on the silence in the room. After a moment, stilted conversation resumed around the table, but nobody brought up last night's incident again. After breakfast was cleared and cleaned up, Walt announced that he and the rest of the counseling team would be remaining behind today, spending time with their own families at the Willows rather than leaving as they had on the past two Sundays.
The way he said, "We wanted to remain present in case anyone, you or your families, wanted to chat with us today," it was obvious that he was referring to the boggart attack. Thankfully, he didn't let his eyes stop on Hermione as he looked around the group.
"Hermione, could I speak to you for a moment?" Walt asked, as they all began to clear the room.
"Um, … sure." The last thing she wanted was to relive last night's events, but she felt like she would have to speak to him at some point eventually. It might as well be now. She followed him to his office and sat in one of the large armchairs facing his desk.
When Walt sat down at his desk, he shifted papers to one corner, and Hermione thought this was the first time she'd ever seen him appear remotely nervous or uncomfortable. When he stopped fidgeting, he looked up, his eyes meeting hers from behind his glasses.
"Hermione, I owe you an apology. I'm sure you overheard what the others were saying, and they're right; I should have intervened sooner last night. My lapse in judgment resulted in you being hurt, and for that I am sincerely sorry. Perhaps my desire for people to take control of their own healing made me delay interceding." He sighed and removed his glasses, sitting them neatly on top of his desk. "I hope that you'll accept my apology and believe me when I say that I do want nothing but the best for you here at the Willows."
He looked genuinely grieved with the situation they were in, and Hermione honestly felt no ill will toward him. Had she been able to banish the stupid thing as everyone else had, she wouldn't have been harmed by it. Instead, she failed. She'd fought dozens of witches and wizards and came out victorious, but both times she'd faced a boggart in her life, she'd failed miserably. That wasn't Walt's fault. That was hers.
"It's okay. I… I'm not angry with anyone but myself. Well, and Greyback I suppose."
Walt nodded solemnly. "It's completely normal to freeze up in the face of your fears." He paused for a moment before adding, "Alys tells me that you haven't exactly been forthright about what's happened to you, about why you're here."
Hermione clenched her teeth. Well this isn't fair. Was he blaming this on –
Walt lifted a hand, pacifyingly. "Please don't misunderstand. I'm not saying this is your fault or that you were unable to banish the boggart because you hadn't shared your story yet. I'm merely making a statement."
He wasn't wrong though. She had been glossing over the surface of her issues and skipping over parts that she wasn't ready to share. She swallowed nervously, hoping he wasn't planning to make her talk about it right now, with the imprints of Greyback's fingers still fresh across her neck.
"I… I don't think I'd like to talk about that just now." She began tracing the pattern on the arm of the chair, keeping her eyes trained on the intricate designs rather than his eyes on her. "I'd like to enjoy my visit with my friends today and just not think about it anymore to be honest."
"That's fine, Hermione. However, I do want you to think about how much this situation is still controlling you. Last night is proof of that. I'm not pushing you to talk about anything that you aren't ready to talk about. Even if you never want to share it in group, I do think that it's important to open up about it with Alys."
She swallowed and looked back toward him, offering him a nod and half smile in return.
That afternoon, when guests began to arrive, Hermione met Harry and Ron by the Apparation point and led them toward their normal spot on the front porch. Heaters had been set up since last Sunday along the edge of the porch, allowing all of them to be comfortable in the chilly September air without the need for magic.
Hermione and her friends took their normal table opposite Draco, Blaise, and Pansy. After hugs all around, they all sat, each of them sharing the last week's events with Hermione. Ron was in the middle of a particularly amusing anecdote about one of their recent products at the shop, and Hermione was laughing freely at the way he described George's two-hour stint stuck as a centaur before Ron was able to figure out the proper solution of the antidote. Apparently the sweet was meant to turn you into an animal for only a short period of time, but the mixture had been slightly off, resulting in George's prolonged disfigurement. Ron let slip, however, that he'd known the proper antidote for at least an hour before he agreed to change George back. The laughter from the visualization of George as a centaur and the warmth of the heater right behind her had Hermione casually unbuttoning the top few buttons on her jumper to cool off a bit.
She'd forgotten completely about the bruises all over her neck until she heard Harry loudly interject, "Hermione, what happened to your neck?" She felt her face grow hot and her hands immediately halted in their task. She shifted to pull her jumper up higher, but the damage was done. Ron peered closer too, his brows furrowed in confusion.
"It's… it's nothing. There was an accident…" The light caught in Harry's glasses as his focus drifted past her and Ron's gaze followed his. She turned in her seat to see Blaise, Pansy, and Draco looking in their direction, likely pulled from their own conversation by the sound of Harry's voice. She looked back toward Harry and she could practically see the gears turning in his mind, trying to piece together whatever puzzle involved the bruises around Hermione's neck and the black eye and scratches littered across Draco's face.
Ron's eyes passed quickly between Hermione's face and Draco's as well, but before he could say anything, Harry asked, "What kind of accident?"
Harry was speaking to her, but his eyes never left Draco's face. She'd known Harry for almost half her life, and she thought during that time she'd understood most of his facial expressions. She could tell when he was coming up with a plan, the way his brows stayed knitted together as he worked out the details. She could tell when he was overly excited by the way his eyes lit up and he smiled in that bright way that only he could. And, she could tell when he was being protective, a look that she'd seen on his face probably far more frequently than she should have over the time that she'd known him. He'd spent so much of his life trying to protect others, and right now, by the way his jaw was set tightly and his lips barely moved as he formed the words, she could tell that he was thinking something had happened between her and Draco, and he was trying to rein in his anger until he knew all the facts.
"Um… We were trying something in group last night and it didn't work out very well. There was a bit of an altercation and –"
"An altercation between who, Hermione?" It was Ron's turn this time. He was casting looks between her, Harry, and Draco. Pansy and Blaise had continued speaking, seemingly indifferent to the conversation going on just a table away and the way Draco was still looking toward Harry and Ron rather than his own guests.
Hermione licked her lips, wishing there was some way to talk about the situation without worrying them or making them think she was incapable of taking care of herself.
"Well, uhm… I was…" She knew she wasn't helping, but it was like her lips weren't forming the words her brain was telling it to. I was being attacked and Draco and Seamus tried to stop it.
"I was –"
"Did he do something to you, 'Mi?" Ron asked, his voice rising louder than it had been before, causing the others to turn to look back at them, Pansy and Blaise now noticing the way Harry and Ron were staring Draco down.
"No! No… I…" She took a deep breath. "Will you both stop and look at me?!" Both of them immediately shifted their gaze to hers, Harry at least looked slightly ashamed at having jumped to conclusions, but Ron's face was a little redder than before.
"We were supposed to be fighting boggarts, and I failed miserably, and the damn thing almost killed me. Seamus and Dra-… Some of the others intervened."
Both of the men began talking at once, asking for clarification. "A boggart?" "Killed you?" "What do you mean, 'killed you'?"
"If you'd both stop speaking I could tell you." Both of them had the grace to shut their mouths and listen finally, as she filled them in on what happened, leaving out the form of her boggart and what it had said to her in Greyback's raspy voice.
"So, why does he look like that?" Ron asked, tipping his chin toward Draco and his friends.
"He and Seamus both tried to help me. Somehow in the process, he took a ricocheting stunner to the face."
She looked up at them when all she heard was silence following this declaration to find them staring at her as if they were waiting for her to laugh, like it was all some sort of joke.
"Why would he do that?" Harry asked, his eyes narrowing in Draco's direction, but Hermione never turned to see whether Draco was meeting his gaze or not.
Hermione honestly didn't know how to answer that question. Why had he tried to help her? Was it still some sort of penance for his actions during school and during the war? And if that were the case, was it specifically in relation to his treatment of her or just for his behavior in general. For some reason, the idea that he was only treating her kindly in order to make up for his past crimes made her frown.
Both Harry and Ron were still staring at her expecting some sort of answer. She shrugged, but after the way he'd tried to help her and the way he'd stayed with her for the past few nights just to help her sleep made her feel like she owed him more than that. She cleared her throat and continued.
"We're sort of friends, I think."
Harry's eyebrows disappeared beneath his fringe as he gaped at her in disbelief, but Ron's brows somehow knitted together even tighter.
"Walt asked him to teach me Occlumency in an attempt to control my magic, and we've kind of been forced into these situations together. I think Seamus is coming around too, actually. Apparently, a big part of therapy here is having us learn to rely on one another."
"And you think he's someone you can rely on?" Ron asked, his voice carrying across the porch. Hermione heard the porch door close behind them, and when she turned to look, the table where Draco and his friends had been sitting before was now empty.
"Yes, Ronald, I do," she said, as she turned back to her own friends. "A few weeks ago, wasn't it you telling me that they all deserved a second chance?" The look she gave them seemed to have settled the matter. Ron's eyes flashed back and forth between hers and the door over her shoulder. It took a moment of stiff conversation about nothing of any importance for them to return to their previous state of ease with one another.
Just before everyone left, Harry pulled a miniature binder from his pocket and handed it to Hermione. She'd discovered a CD player in the art therapy room, but there was no music in sight, so earlier in the week, she'd written to ask him to bring her CDs during his visit today. She was hoping that music paired with controlled breathing could help her to master Occlumency a bit better than she had so far.
She'd hugged them both tightly, Ron lifting her off her toes in his customary bearhug that never failed to bring a smile to her face. The both turned to head to the Apparation point, and Hermione had a moment to be thankful for them and the fact that she and Ron were back to their normal friendship before she turned to walk back inside and found Draco looking in her direction, with a scowl on his face. She was focused on his strange expression and didn't notice his friends were walking toward her until Pansy walked past, never even sparing her a glance and Blaise shooting her a two-finger salute and friendly "Granger" as he passed her.
Draco's face had shifted back to his normal look of indifference as they made their way toward the group therapy room. Despite the silence, she thought he seemed upset about something. Just as she opened her mouth to inquire about his visit with his friends, he snapped, "I see the Weasel still thinks quite highly of me."
This wasn't at all what she was expecting, and it caught her off guard. She hadn't heard that particular growl in his voice in a while, and it sounded strange to her, like that voice no longer belonged to him. Surely, he wasn't bothered by the fact that Ron and Harry weren't his biggest fans. "Based on your lovely moniker for him, your opinion hasn't changed so much either."
Draco scoffed beside her. The silence dragged on as they rounded the last corner, and just before they walked inside, Draco turned to her and snarled, "I'm sure your boyfriend would really love to hear that you spend your nights wrapped around my legs then, wouldn't he?"
She felt like she'd been slapped. The sneer on his face was so out of character now that she could do nothing but blink at him. The curl of his lip quavered for a split second, and had he not immediately stalked away from her, leaving her standing stupidly by the door, she would have thought he'd regretted his words, but the view of his back as he walked away pushed that thought away like smoke.
She felt fresh tears stinging her eyes and clouding her vision and she blinked them away, cursing herself for yet again allowing something he said to bother her. She wanted to be angry at him, but instead, she couldn't shake the hurt that she felt at just how quickly he lashed out at her.
She walked to her seat and sat down, refusing to even glance in his direction. Then, it hit her. He'd said boyfriend. Then the image of his face when Ron hugged her goodbye came back into her mind. She thought it strange at the time, the way his brows dropped slightly, and a shadow seemed to drift across his features. Was… was he jealous?
The feeling of hurt was instantly replaced with a bubble of laughter rising up in her chest. She quickly put a hand over her mouth so no one would notice her stupid grin as she thought about the idea that Draco was jealous of Ron! There really was no other explanation. The way he'd looked at her when Ron was lifting her off her feet, bringing the same carefree smile to her face that he'd done a thousand times over the past nine years.
She bit the inside of her jaw to keep the smile that was threatening to surface at bay. A part of her wanted to laugh at him, to tell him how ridiculous this childish behavior was, but then again, he had gone out of his way to help her on more than one occasion now. Didn't that warrant some sort of compassion on her part, even if he was being ridiculous and hurtful?
She looked up when Walt's words pulled her out of her thoughts.
"I know many of you are upset about the events of last night, and," he raised a hand to silence Seamus just as he opened his mouth to interrupt, "you have every right to be. I take full responsibility for what happened. Seamus, Draco, you were both right; I should have intervened sooner. I've apologized to Hermione, and I'll apologize to each of you now. I let my desire for each of you to master your own fears overshadow my judgement, and in the process one of you was hurt. I promise you it will not happen again. I know it is unfair to ask for each of you to trust me again, so if you cannot, I'm willing to step away from the Willows. I really do wish nothing but the best for each of you, even if that means I should leave."
He let his words hang in the air as he looked around the room at each of them. There was no sadness or bitterness in her face, only genuine concern. When his eyes landed on hers, Hermione said, "I don't think that's necessary, Walt. I accept your apology, even though I don't think it's warranted. I…," she lifted her chin a fraction higher and tried to say the rest with conviction and without a shred of shame, "it was my own fault."
Walt gave her a somber smile, his lips only curving up on one side, and said, "It wasn't your fault. It's normal to freeze in times of severe stress. Had I intervened, or allowed the others to, it wouldn't have happened at all." When Hermione said nothing else, he went on, turning his eyes toward the others again. "Does anyone else have anything to add? There will be no repercussions or hard feelings whatsoever. I wouldn't have offered it if I didn't mean it."
As his eyes fell on everyone, they each shook their heads slightly. Seamus took a moment longer than the others, and he merely threw a hand up dismissively in response. When Walt turned toward Draco, he never even looked up; Draco merely shook his head slightly, less than an inch in either direction.
"Okay, if there are no objections, I would like to move forward with the rest of you tonight," Walt said, nodding toward the cupboard that still sat in the middle of the room. "I assure you the boggart will not be allowed to touch any of you. We'll be standing by to ensure that nothing like last night's events occurs again." He looked around again, as if waiting for someone to dissent. When no one did, half of them never even raising their eyes in his direction, he asked, "Would anyone like to volunteer?"
Nicola stood up. "I'll go," she said, as she moved her chair toward the back of the room, just as they had been arranged the night before, Nicola's heels clacking against the floor with each step. The others stood and followed suit, each of them pushing their chair toward the back of the room to clear a space for Nicola and the boggart. They didn't take their potion this morning, so there was no need for any to rid the suppressant from their system. Nicola looked toward Walt for confirmation, standing straight as an arrow with the hem of her satin blouse draping across her trousers. When he nodded toward her, she pointed her wand toward the cupboard and said, "Alohomora."