"Pathetic. Lazy. Ordinary." Snape was naming all the worst possible adjectives to describe the results of their potions assignment. "I gave you more than a month to finish this, to refine it, and still, you handle me garbage." He said looking down at the class, from his high podium.
Every single student in this class was used to the disappointed look on Snape's face and his harsh words to the point they started to mean nothing. But not to everyone, certainly not to Hermione Granger. Draco glanced at her, who was sitting right next to him, curved to the point she looked even smaller than she used to. She was biting her nails nervously and her eyes were about to come out of her face, fixated in Snape's discrete hand gestures. She had black circles around her eyes, and she did not even bother to brush her hair this morning, just enough to make it seems proper decedent to the eye. Last night felt like had happened thousand years before. Between finishing up the potion before the full potency of the moon vanished and writing a 10-page report on the results and, of course, Ron's almost immediate death by Malfoy's stupid attempt, left Hermione exhausted, with no sleep. They went to their room at almost three a.m., leaving an awkward and painful silence between them after the task was finished. Hermione thought of saying something nice or easy-going, but then again, Ron's face pierced into her mind. His weak and vulnerable state, his words of love to her, that she did not deserve. She could see Draco was thinking the same thing, trying to gather his courage to say something, anything, to keep this from break. Hermione just sighed and went to her room.
"Your grades will be in the Great Hall during the lunch break," Snape said. He always did that. Tell them how bad the grades were at the start of the class, only to handle them two hours after, leaving them anxious and scared the whole time. "Now, turn to page 789." He said turning around to his desk.
Hermione glanced at Draco that did not seem interested in their grade or whatever Snape was talking about. She remembered their conversation last night; how frustrated and even angry Draco's words sounded. He always protected Draco like one of his own, even like a son sometimes. She did not understand the animosity of Draco's tone, but then again, she did not know him, did she.
Surely, it feels very surreal for him to be in the classroom like nothing was happening in his life and the world in general. As his family was not being kept in the Manor, under the rule of some maniac that wanted their heads like trophies of conquest. For what? A world without muggle-born, without half-bloods? What would that world look like? Draco often wondered about that hypothetical world, since these ideas and beliefs become something present in his daily life, in his group of friends, and during dinner with his parents. He remembered the bizarre tales about Voldemort being alive and his eventual return. His father used to tell him about His return, with proud and anxious eyes, waiting for something to happen, but to Draco they sounded like haunted stories to tell before dark about a man that most people feared and respect enough to kill for you, to leave their homes and families. And when he returned, weak like an infant, like something dead that did not belong in this place, Draco knew something terrible was about to happen, because the myth that he was, turned to bones and flesh.
Still, he was torn in what the dead walking man preached. His father taught him about the disease that was muggle-born and about the real magic that only old and noble families like their possessed. The royalty and sense of pride fascinated him, without understanding the real consequences of what it truly meant. But he came to realize that power was bloody and it usually meant the fall of something else or someone. While growing up the thought of being responsible for the fall of someone was something, he grows accustomed to. He wanted to be the best in everything, to be the chosen one in something that mattered and when he was so close to achieving that, he understood what it meant. It means the death of a thousand people that did not know about magic or Voldemort, the death of thousands of people that were just living their lives and did not even think about honorable magic. Ordinary people, with people they cared about and protected as Draco did. He wondered a lot about that mad world that Voldemort would create. If he survives all of this, surely, he will become a Death Eater, like his friends. Blaise, Pansy, Theo. In a blink of an eye, murder would become part of their world like it meant nothing, like it was their job, something banal like checking in the office and doing paperwork. He would be a killer and he did not find any honor in that.
He glanced at Hermione who was focused on the book, practically drinking all the words on it. It meant her death. He did not know the exact moment where everything changed between them. Maybe she was just a sign, a reminder of what his acts meant to most people. Maybe she was just a getaway from all the awful things he had to do. And now, she was holding his solution and his family safety. A part of him felt stupid for trusting someone that much, with the faith of his family and his. Lucius would be laughing at his face, dishonoring him for what he was about to do for his family. Trusting all his faith in an old bat and in the last girl he thought he would be linked to. A girl that cannot even look him in the eye.
The class ended without Draco paying a single moment of attention. Passing the year with good grades becomes something trivial, too small for him to care about. Like most things, he lost the passion or enjoyment for it. Potions were one. If it were not for Granger and her annoying rants about the value of education, he would not even do his homework. Most days he wished to stay in bed.
"Ready to find out our grade?" She said, for the first time since last night.
"Sure." He said, maintaining eye contact longer than needed. Hermione glanced down immediately.
Draco looked around, of habit. His friends were waiting for him to close the door. Only Blaise was looking at him interested in their conversation. Sometimes Draco wanted to smash his friend for being so nosy. Hermione soon realized where he was looking and gathered her things and left without a single look at him. He felt a pinch of anger and something he could not put his finger on rising in his chest.
"Granger." Blaise said acknowledging her presence with a smile.
"Blaise." Hermione responded walking past him with her head in the books.
"Draco! Let's go." Pansy yelled for him. "I'm starving." Draco grabbed his things and joined his friends, ignoring the curious and playful look Blaise gave him until the Great Hall.
"How are you feeling Ron?" Harry asked, clearly worried for this best friend. Ron looked a lot better, less pale, and more himself. And high as fuck. "You look great." He said noticing his friend's wide smile.
"I feel great mate. Over the fucking moon. Honestly. You should try. Just give up that chosen one role and have fun." Ron said with eyes wide open like he just understood something know that no one else gets it. "I'm being serious." Harry, Hermione, and Ginny changed a look and started laughing without stopping. "Mione... listen to me. We are losing our golden years and for what?"
"To save the world and everyone on it from a maniac bastard?" Hermione asked playfully.
"Yea. Fuck him, that is what I think. You know what we should do?" Ron grabbed Harry and Hermione's hands to him. "Go on a vacation! I'm tired of this crap and gloomy weather, always so fucking depressing."
"You're right Ron." Hermione said looking at Harry and then at Ron. "We should. Maybe after everything." Hermione said being hopeful. She did not believe in her words; she would never admit to her best friends but a part of her did not believe she would survive this war. Maybe because she was a walking target, on the high of a kill list of Voldemort. Maybe she was just tired. The idea of vacations and running away never sound more appealing than now. Harry glanced at her and nodded. He understood her, even at this moment, even in the silence she left behind.
"You too Ginny. And Fred, and George. Just… don't tell mom." Ron said. Ginny smiled and their bickering between brothers soon begun, after she said Ron was a mommy's boy. Even high, Ron's temper was present.
"Ron, what they gave you?" Hermione asked of pure curiosity.
"I don't know. Some pills. They tasted amazing." Ron said amazed. "I wish I could keep some."
"I bet you do, mate." Harry said. "Are you ready to get out of here?"
"Fuck yes. We have practice mate! The game is already next weekend, and I am not ready. I'm slow, Harry and…" And Hermione stopped listening to the boys that went to some heavy quidditch rant that could last for hours and hours.
Hermione and Ginny agreed to wait outside for them to get ready. She looked better, less shaken up about last weekend but it was evident to Hermione that was something going on with her. She wished she could help a friend from those doubts that were hanging on her head.
"Have you talked to him?" Hermione asked. "I may have lost slightly my temper with him, just for a few seconds."
"I heard about it. All school's is talking about you and Dean's hot affair." Ginny said. "I suspect he got his ass kicked."
"Hot affair? Jesus fucking Christ, who made up that shit?" Hermione thought of Blaise, who saw everything, but then again, a lot more people were in the corridor at that time.
"Thank you H." Ginny said talking her hand. "For everything. But I think I can get it from here. Not that I do not love your badass- hero act, I just need closure for myself."
"I understand Ginny." Hermione said hugging her friend. At that moment, Harry and Ron got out of the infirmary and Ron started racing to them, embracing the girls in a sandwich hug. Soon Harry joined.
"I love my friends." Ron said. Everyone is laughed at because Ron would never do something like this or say something like that. "Why are we hugging?" He asked genuinely confused.
"We love drugged Ron. Much more pleasant to be with." Ginny said. "How long until the old grumpy Ron kicks in?"
"I had an idea!" Ron shouted and then hushed at no one in the corridor. "We should get drunk."
"I think you had enough Ron." Hermione said. "You can barely walk or talk."
Ron approached Hermione fast, too much for her comprehension. He grabbed her face gently, his both hands at each one of her cheeks. "Well, but you are not, Hermione." He said changing his tone to one more seriously. "Why the sad face Mione?" He asked.
Guilt. "I was worried for you Ron." She said truthfully. "And I do not think it wise to get you drunk when you already have drugs in your system."
He sighed. "Fine. Well, maybe you guys can get drunk then." He said cheering up at the idea. "I think we all need a break, don't we? For everything." He said.
"I guess stoned Ron was replaced by wise old Ron." Ginny said. "He may be right."
"Harry… back me up on this." Hermione pleaded. "I am head girl; I cannot be a part of this shenanigans." She crossed her arms and her friends approached her with their puppy eyes. "You cruel creatures."
"C'mon Hermione. Just today." Harry said. "Do you have patrols tonight?"
"No." Hermione merely said avoiding looking at his best friend. "Besides, where we would get free booze?"
"Oh, my dear friend." Ginny said smiling proudly. "Don't worry about it. I got it." No one questioned Ginny and Hermione wandered what kind of connections her friend may have.
"See. Ginny's got it. You just have to look away and relax, Mione." Harry said putting his arm around her.
"For me?" Ron pleaded. "I had a really bad night, if you did not hear, I was poisoned." He said putting his hand on his heart looking hurt and fragile."
Hermione could not help but smile at the dramatics of her best friends, each one worse than another. She had no desire to lose her badge of Head's Girl, but then again, she desperately needed to back out just for a moment. What could go wrong anyway?
A lot could go wrong in just a couple of hours, especially when you put four drunk kids, each one with their problems, in one small room. Things got weird fast between Harry and Ginny, both intoxicated with muggle beer that somehow Ginny got her tiny hands on it. Hermione missed ordinary beer, the one that does not taste that good but just lets you sink in a state of nonexistence for a while. She was thinking about Draco and hating herself for doing it; about how their friends – the same ones that declare their dying love for each other just a few minutes ago – would react. Would they call her a traitor? Would they hate her for helping the enemy? Those thoughts were interrupted when Ginny, who was dancing with Harry, with a drink on her hand, rather suddenly dropped the bottle to the coffee table and walked out. "I need some air." She just said.
Harry smile's that lighted up his face at the early of the night were long gone; Hermione knew him enough to know it was not sadness or confusion, but rather a sense of understanding that disturbed him deeply. It was a statement that made him like that; just as was clear he was in the center of the war, that he was a chosen one with a rule to play, Harry knew something that involved Ginny and Hermione dread that truth for her friend.
"What was all that about?" Ron asked, rather sleepy at the coach. The drugs were starting to lose their effect.
Harry just told him to forget about it and Ron returns to her sleepy state. Hermione was glancing at him, remembering the words he said to her. I love you. She knows it was true, just like she loved him, just not in the same way. In truth, those words made her feel deeply sad, almost in an existential way mostly because she was grieving a part of them that would never happen, not now. She was grieving the part of her that loved him in the same way, for many years; that wanted him just the same way; that longed to hear those words and for them to be together. It made her sad to see that potential of something, that was always lurking beneath, just disappear in a matter of months. But was it really that suddenly? Or was something changing, over time, deep in her. She was not fooled to ignore Draco's presence on it. The booze was making her sad and sloppy when she just wanted to forget all of this in the first place. Maybe she was also grieving for her and Draco, for a world made of what-ifs, for a world where she could simply make room of her feelings about him; in a world where he did not almost kill Ron.
"I am going to check on her." Hermione said, grabbing another beer. Harry nodded, lost in thoughts. Ron mumbled something that sounded nice and comfortable like he sometimes did when he was asleep, and she had the hard job to wake him up.
They decided to have this little party in the Room of Requirements, which conjured up a cozy and small room for them. Leaving that room to the harsh and cold corridor of the school made her tremble, she missed the warmth. Ginny was not around like she doubted she would. She was probably at the lake, despite the cold that was setting in. Once again, Hermione forgot her cloak and she seriously thought, at that point, she was begging for a cold. Her face felt hot, probably because of the alcohol reaching her face. She lost the count of how many beers she had, maybe four. Maybe it was not wise to wander around the school in this state, but clearly, Hermione was not thinking straight.
In truth, Hermione hasn't felt this light for a long time. Rather suddenly she wondered what would happen if the attack from death eaters happened at this precise moment. Surely, she would drop dead, drunk, and lonely, and sad. The Golden Girl was found dead with a bottle of beer in her hand. Hermione laughed at that.
"I knew it would be you." He said bluntly. Hermione glanced back and shot him a half-smile – a drunken smile.
"Malfoy!" She screamed, wagging a finger at him. "What are you doing here? Are you following me?" She slurs.
"Granger." He merely said, confusion pierced into his forehead. "Patrols. And you?" He looked down at her hand. She takes another swig of beer, maintaining eye contact with him. Maybe in another scenario, she would look hot, but in this, she looked sloppy and not a pretty type of sensual drunk. More like a drunk monkey, she thought.
"Walking around. Enjoying the evening, you know."
He studies her for a long moment – his eyes carved on hers. He leans back against the wall of the corridor like he was too tired of being still in one place. "Granger, please don't tell me you are pissed-off drunk."
"Me? I am Head Girl. I don't get drunk. This is water from muggles, you know. Water." She said and giggled at that. "You should try some." She walked at him, trying to keep her balance, and failing. "Here." She handled to him the bottle. Draco looked at her suspiciously. "I promise it's not poison." She said smiling. "That's your thing, right?" She spits back bitterly.
Hermione half- laughed sarcastically and walked to one of the windows, avoiding him. His guilt and pleading eyes.
"Fuck you." Malfoy answered, dropping the bottle to the ground. "I don't fucking care about Weasley. If he dropped dead, I would sleep like a fucking baby. It was a mistake but one I don't feel sorry about." He said angrily. His nasty stern and arrogance were back just like that and Hermione wanted to devour him.
"That's the person I remembered." She said back. "The goody act doesn't suit you, Malfoy." She started walking away from him when he grabbed her arm too tightly and pulled her to him. Face to face. All the anger and the hatred facing each other. "I'm not your silly friends Granger. And don't act all that mighty with me." He smiled viciously. "I don't think I need to remind you what you were doing when Ron was in the infirmary." Kissing him. Hermione wanted to punch him, and he may felt her arms raising because he grabbed her even more tightly.
"Fuck you Malfoy." She said meaning every word." He lets her go slowly, without breaking the eye-contact.
Hermione felt herself growing hot and desire that beer more than ever. In the next instant, his hand is suddenly molded against her cheek, his touch is not gentle. It's hard and troubling and imminent. Making pressure. Waiting. It was fucking painful. Hermione closed her eyes and in the next moment, she closed the gap between them and kissed him – or collapsed into him. His fingers bury into her curls and he moves his lips just beneath her cheekbone. Small kisses left her making quiet moans. She does not recognize the sound she was making but it drives her to tangle her fingers in his white shirt, twisting around his green tie. Pulling him, closer and closer. She feels desperate, drunk in different ways – drunk in him. And it's now, more than ever, that she realizes how much she wants this, him. Draco drops his hands from her hair and draws her body against his, gently touching her lower back. Teasing her. His mouth never left hers and she wished it stayed like that for a long time. Until they hear urgent footsteps coming in front of them. Malfoy stumbles back, Hermione felt exposed, without his body molded into hers, without her months on hers. She felt raw, her lips were sullen and too sensitive.
"Who was that?" Draco asks, his voice low and musky.
Hermione stares at the dark of the corridor. Her head felt dizzy and she thanked for that because that was the only reason her paranoia was not kicking in and she was freaking out. She stared at Draco with his unkempt hair and loose tie and untucked shirt – did she do that? She wonders about her state but one look at Draco's hungry or possessive eyes is enough to know she was no better than him.
"I don't know." She said. They both stand there, gathering their breath for a long time. Hermione opens her mouth to speak, terribly afraid of what had just happened between them. She can't bear the reality of what just happened, of what she felt. It was no distraction from war or whatever she pictured it to be to make her feel good with herself at the end; this was burning inside her. If this were another boy, she would go running to Ginny telling her all about her feelings, but this was him. The secrecy of it all just made her want to crawl with him to their room; where no one judged, not even themselves. Because only Hermione and Draco could understand the mess they were in and that pulled them closer than anything in this world.
"I just need to finish this floor and then I'm done with patrols," Draco said like he understood her longing and conflicting feelings. Hermione nodded and joined him, walking just a little behind him. There was no need for any words.