In the Heart of a Dragon
Chapter 2: Tears
By: Winter's End
Disclaimer: All things Harry Potter are owned and copyrighted by J.K. Rowling. This story is only for the sake of pure entertainment.
Summary: Hermione begins to find sanctuary in the darkness... of the dragon's heart. (Ick! How cheesy!)
"I know that it may not be right for me to ask, but --- no! That's not right... ok... Let's try again. Um... I know that there may be a few complications should you choose to do so, but I have reason to believe that --- Damn!"
"What are you doing?"
Ron jumped from his chair. "H--- Hermione!"
"Don't 'H--- Hermione' me!" she protested, posing defiantly beside the door. She folded her arms across her chest. "What have you been doing here, Ronald Weasley?" she demanded, sternly pursing her lips.
"N--- nothing!" Ron answered, hurriedly. His mind suddenly began to form a tumult of questions that he feared to answer.
*How long has she been here? How long has she been listening? How much has she heard? * He couldn't think. *Damn! This is so embarrassing! * He shifted around for answers, trying to find one to answer the question 'How long has she been here?'.
He froze. Where was here?
Suddenly, he remembered. He was standing in front of the mirror that was situated inside the boy's bathroom. Relaxing, he finally found the solution to his problem. At least it would take the subject away from it. He gave her a glare, a grin slightly tugging at the corner of his mouth. "And what are you doing here, Hermione Granger?" he asked, almost teasing.
Hermione blushed. How the heck was she going to explain being in the boys' bathroom! She cleared her throat in an attempt to draw attention away from the reddish glow in her cheeks, which she knew would be a total giveaway of her discomfort. "We've been waiting for you, Weasley," she answered, hoping that he wouldn't detect the slight hesitation in her voice. "You missed an entire meal! Don't you think we'd even be a little bit suspicious to what you might have been doing at that time."
The grin escaped. "But that still does not explain you being here."
She flinched, "It doesn't matter," and shrugged, trying to look nonchalant about the entire situation. "Are you going to come now? Or are you just going to keep us waiting in an attempt to feed your narcissistic ego with how much you think your freckles look good on you?" Hermione gave him what she hoped was a menacing glare. He only returned it, and so she shrugged again. "Fine with me," she told him. "Be like that. But I won't be speaking to you again, Weasley. Not ever." And with that, she turned on her heals with an audible 'humph' and marched out the open door
"Wait! Hermione!" Ron shouted, but was left shouting it to a blank door. (It didn't seem to be amused.) "What is wrong with that girl?" he muttered to himself. And then, shaking his head, he walked back to his original place before the image of his reflection reflected upon the surface of the gleaming mirror, asking it, "So... would you mind if I ask you a question..."
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Hermione strode hurriedly across the hall, hoping to reach her room before she finally broke into a fit of tears. She didn't understand what had happened between her and Ron. It had been going on so well between them for the past few years that she had never thought that anything like this could have happened. Ron didn't care about her anymore... or at least... not how she had wanted him to. She shook her head at the grief of the loss. After years of having such a steady and consistent relationship, he was back again to treating her no more than how he had used to, just as if nothing had happened, just as if she had been nothing more to him than a common friend... just as a friend... This has now become the zenith of her torture. Being away from him that summer had already been torture enough; but having been with him for these two months, only to see the fading memories of a long-passed dream embedded in the gleam in his eyes was yet a harder form of torture. She couldn't
help but mourn for the loss, of a love that might have been --- and had been --- but never will be again...
She rubbed her eyes, feeling the presence of her tears blurring her vision as she walked steadily on. She absent-mindedly turned a corner ---
And bumped someone.
She stepped back, and sniffed, embarrassed. "Sorry," she blurted in a voice husky with tears.
"That's the seventh time these two months, Granger."
Her head jerked up at the sound of the voice. "Malfoy!" she breathed. Just her luck!
Draco arched a questioning brow. "Who were you expecting?" he asked in sarcasm.
Hermione stepped back. He was the last person she had expected --- or wanted --- to see. She couldn't bear the thought of him finding her like this! She was a mess! She quickly wiped her face with the sleeves of her robe, brushing away the lingering streaks that her tears had left to mark her face. She snuffed, and looked up at him squarely. "What are you doing here, Malfoy?" she asked, her voice a note higher.
"What kind of question is that, Granger?" he snorted. "Are you now going to tell me that attempting to rid the waste from my bladder is against school rules?" He glared. "Well then, it isn't, now, is it? So move out of my way."
"You can't order me around, you gutless worm. I'm a Headgirl, remember?" she told him, glad that it came out firm, although a little narcissistic.
"I couldn't care less what you are!" he snarled. "Now, move out of my way!"
She snorted --- or tried- to. "What? Find yourself unmanly enough to hold it in? I thought better of you." She grunted. What was she doing?
His eyes widened; then just as quickly, turned into ominous slits, a menacing glitter in his eyes that made her want to wish she hadn't said anything. He flashed her a smile. It wasn't very nice. "And I, Granger," he whispered, "thought better of you." And with reptilian grace, he leaned down, putting his face inches apart from hers. His lips parted slightly, sensually, into a sneer. "I never knew you could want to host me as much as this, Granger."
She swallowed a lump. "What are you talking about, Malfoy?" When she spoke, she realized that there was a horrible hitch in her voice. She wished against wish that he hadn't heard it. He might take it the wrong way and prove it to be a fatal mistake. He was doing this to her. He was making her feel all shifty and unsure. Of course, she knew what he was talking about, and knew that he did, too. She did this to herself. And why? All because she hadn't been humble enough to get out of his way! She had known that defying him hadn't been the right thing to do. But why had she done it? Why hadn't she stepped aside? And now he thought that...
"You are an idiot, Malfoy!" she sputtered.
He leaned closer. "I don't think so," he whispered.
That wasn't good. Her heart gave a painful jolt. She felt it rip through her chest as if wanting her to give in to him; and she realized that he knew what had happened by her sudden and unexpected intake of breath. She gritted her teeth. He was too close. But still she remained her ground, ignoring the warmth of his breath intermingling with her own.
"I'm warning you, Malfoy," she began.
"Warning me... about what?" He leaned closer. "That if you can't have me at this moment, that if you can't feel me at this moment, you would report me to the headmaster. Tell me, Granger," he whispered, "don't you think I would be a much better..." --- he grinned --- "...guest... than your friend, Weasley?"
Hermione drew in a sharp gasp of protest. She flared. "That was not what I meant, Malfoy! You know that was not what I meant! How dare you imply that of me! How dare you even think that of me! How dare you!"
To her surprise, Draco tilted his head back, and laughed.
He gaped at him, openly, her ears and her face red with embarrassment. She should have known... She should have known! How could she have left her guard down!
Unable to hold it in any longer, she covered her ears from his laughter, and screamed, "STOP IT!"
Eventually, Malfoy did. He looked down at her, noticing that she was about to break down in tears. He snorted. *Pathetic, * he thought. He never thought she could be conquered that easily. He glared down at her, and grinned. "Pitiful," he whispered. "Some people never change no matter how much they think they did." He looked her over. "You're no exception, you know. Just behind the glory of that badge of yours lies a sniveling, buck-teethed mud-blood, trying to be of good use to others who don't even need her."
"Stop it..." It came out as a silent plea, almost a whimper. But he went on.
"Take Weasley for example... you thought that he needed you. Isn't that the very reason that you agreed to be his 'loved one'? Strange... and I was beginning to think that there hadn't even been a change... Inside, I knew that he had considered you no more than a friend. But to everyone else, you're no more than a wretched mud-blood."
"Please..."
Hermione was already down on her knees, feeling her words wrench painfully at her heart, at her pride. She could still hear them being spoken even through the barrier of her hands on her ears. She hated him... because what he had said was true...
Draco watched her, saw the tears flowing uncontrollably, saw them drenching the floor with their salty awareness. He felt something tug the walls of his heart, and for once, he didn't hesitate to obey it. "Get up," were his silent words of command. He didn't expect her to listen, but surprisingly, she did, slowly. And what was even more surprising was that she did it without the slightest hesitation.
She was finally back on her feet, and she wiped her tears away with the back of her hand, she sniffed.
"Look at me."
Draco's voice was firm. However, she did not know what it was that had compelled her to obey him, but she did, and even surprised herself that she did. She was sure that he was going to laugh at her for that. However... she was too weak with realization to protest. And it couldn't bring any harm to obey him just one more time.
She looked up at him...
And was taken aback.
Was she seeing right? Was she actually seeing something in those eyes other than their unfathomable depth? Was she seeing... pity? Or was it merely a hallucination that was brought about by her sadness and her fear to see him with such utter loathing? But no... through the haze of her tears, she was seeing more clearly than she could without them. She could see it, an emotion that lay deeper, beyond what any mortal's eyes could see. She was seeing him for the first time. Not the vile snake that she had been used to, but an inner virtue of such dire emotion that she could not fathom. She saw... love?
Hermione pushed it aside. No. That wasn't right. It was only pity that she saw. Whether it was pity in its highest degree, it was pity nonetheless. He pitied her. For what? He pitied her because he knew that she was going to live the entirety of her life with the knowledge that she was an outcast, of this world and of her parents' world, belonging to both, and yet of neither. She was a Muggle with magical abilities. What kind of Muggle was she? What kind of wizard was she?
"I said, look at me."
Draco's unmistakable voice pierced through her reverie. And she saw something that she shouldn't have. She saw him as the boy who she had seen on the train, the boy who looked strange, but familiar, having both beauty and ugliness colliding in a single body, in a single entity. He was a different person all the same.
He watched her, long silver-blond hair falling over the sides of his face, strong and powerfully jaws tightly set, perfectly sculptured features, fair skin that she noticed was almost tanning, stretching over a lithe and hard-muscled body that anyone could die for.
She clenched her fists. It was hard not to look at him; and harder still to even look at him and find it impossible not to want him. He was... beautiful. Handsome wouldn't even come close in describing him. And whether she liked it or not, she felt almost as if she was in the presence of so holy a divinity that to even look at him would have turned out to be sacrilegious!
She narrowed her eyes. What was she thinking of! Surely she couldn't like him. Draco was Harry's enemy. Which made him Ron's enemy; and so, automatically, became her enemy as well, something that even he himself confirmed by the way that he had brought out the worst of her torment.
Suddenly, his gaze hardened, and he sidled away with the most silent of footfalls.
She hated him. He was her enemy.
*You can't mean that... * a part of her mind began to sigh, *he's so beautiful... And when you look at him... and his eyes... Oh! How can you pass off such a person as him! *
*Because he isn't a person, * the other part of her mind argued. *He isn't anything I want to be near to. He isn't anything I want! He isn't anything...*
*Just look at him ---! *
*Just look at me! I am nothing to him! And he is nothing to me... I love Ron...*
*But Ron does not love you...*
*And neither does he. *
*How do you know... *
*I know... *
The source of her sighs finally became a silent awareness that would she knew wouldn't be able to bother her for a while; but in one way or another, she could still hear its soft and longing breath sighing itself away, into a corner of her mind. But all the while, all she could ever seem to hear was the sound of her scornful laughter, and the contrast... the gleam of love in his eyes.
Chapter 2: Tears
By: Winter's End
Disclaimer: All things Harry Potter are owned and copyrighted by J.K. Rowling. This story is only for the sake of pure entertainment.
Summary: Hermione begins to find sanctuary in the darkness... of the dragon's heart. (Ick! How cheesy!)
"I know that it may not be right for me to ask, but --- no! That's not right... ok... Let's try again. Um... I know that there may be a few complications should you choose to do so, but I have reason to believe that --- Damn!"
"What are you doing?"
Ron jumped from his chair. "H--- Hermione!"
"Don't 'H--- Hermione' me!" she protested, posing defiantly beside the door. She folded her arms across her chest. "What have you been doing here, Ronald Weasley?" she demanded, sternly pursing her lips.
"N--- nothing!" Ron answered, hurriedly. His mind suddenly began to form a tumult of questions that he feared to answer.
*How long has she been here? How long has she been listening? How much has she heard? * He couldn't think. *Damn! This is so embarrassing! * He shifted around for answers, trying to find one to answer the question 'How long has she been here?'.
He froze. Where was here?
Suddenly, he remembered. He was standing in front of the mirror that was situated inside the boy's bathroom. Relaxing, he finally found the solution to his problem. At least it would take the subject away from it. He gave her a glare, a grin slightly tugging at the corner of his mouth. "And what are you doing here, Hermione Granger?" he asked, almost teasing.
Hermione blushed. How the heck was she going to explain being in the boys' bathroom! She cleared her throat in an attempt to draw attention away from the reddish glow in her cheeks, which she knew would be a total giveaway of her discomfort. "We've been waiting for you, Weasley," she answered, hoping that he wouldn't detect the slight hesitation in her voice. "You missed an entire meal! Don't you think we'd even be a little bit suspicious to what you might have been doing at that time."
The grin escaped. "But that still does not explain you being here."
She flinched, "It doesn't matter," and shrugged, trying to look nonchalant about the entire situation. "Are you going to come now? Or are you just going to keep us waiting in an attempt to feed your narcissistic ego with how much you think your freckles look good on you?" Hermione gave him what she hoped was a menacing glare. He only returned it, and so she shrugged again. "Fine with me," she told him. "Be like that. But I won't be speaking to you again, Weasley. Not ever." And with that, she turned on her heals with an audible 'humph' and marched out the open door
"Wait! Hermione!" Ron shouted, but was left shouting it to a blank door. (It didn't seem to be amused.) "What is wrong with that girl?" he muttered to himself. And then, shaking his head, he walked back to his original place before the image of his reflection reflected upon the surface of the gleaming mirror, asking it, "So... would you mind if I ask you a question..."
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Hermione strode hurriedly across the hall, hoping to reach her room before she finally broke into a fit of tears. She didn't understand what had happened between her and Ron. It had been going on so well between them for the past few years that she had never thought that anything like this could have happened. Ron didn't care about her anymore... or at least... not how she had wanted him to. She shook her head at the grief of the loss. After years of having such a steady and consistent relationship, he was back again to treating her no more than how he had used to, just as if nothing had happened, just as if she had been nothing more to him than a common friend... just as a friend... This has now become the zenith of her torture. Being away from him that summer had already been torture enough; but having been with him for these two months, only to see the fading memories of a long-passed dream embedded in the gleam in his eyes was yet a harder form of torture. She couldn't
help but mourn for the loss, of a love that might have been --- and had been --- but never will be again...
She rubbed her eyes, feeling the presence of her tears blurring her vision as she walked steadily on. She absent-mindedly turned a corner ---
And bumped someone.
She stepped back, and sniffed, embarrassed. "Sorry," she blurted in a voice husky with tears.
"That's the seventh time these two months, Granger."
Her head jerked up at the sound of the voice. "Malfoy!" she breathed. Just her luck!
Draco arched a questioning brow. "Who were you expecting?" he asked in sarcasm.
Hermione stepped back. He was the last person she had expected --- or wanted --- to see. She couldn't bear the thought of him finding her like this! She was a mess! She quickly wiped her face with the sleeves of her robe, brushing away the lingering streaks that her tears had left to mark her face. She snuffed, and looked up at him squarely. "What are you doing here, Malfoy?" she asked, her voice a note higher.
"What kind of question is that, Granger?" he snorted. "Are you now going to tell me that attempting to rid the waste from my bladder is against school rules?" He glared. "Well then, it isn't, now, is it? So move out of my way."
"You can't order me around, you gutless worm. I'm a Headgirl, remember?" she told him, glad that it came out firm, although a little narcissistic.
"I couldn't care less what you are!" he snarled. "Now, move out of my way!"
She snorted --- or tried- to. "What? Find yourself unmanly enough to hold it in? I thought better of you." She grunted. What was she doing?
His eyes widened; then just as quickly, turned into ominous slits, a menacing glitter in his eyes that made her want to wish she hadn't said anything. He flashed her a smile. It wasn't very nice. "And I, Granger," he whispered, "thought better of you." And with reptilian grace, he leaned down, putting his face inches apart from hers. His lips parted slightly, sensually, into a sneer. "I never knew you could want to host me as much as this, Granger."
She swallowed a lump. "What are you talking about, Malfoy?" When she spoke, she realized that there was a horrible hitch in her voice. She wished against wish that he hadn't heard it. He might take it the wrong way and prove it to be a fatal mistake. He was doing this to her. He was making her feel all shifty and unsure. Of course, she knew what he was talking about, and knew that he did, too. She did this to herself. And why? All because she hadn't been humble enough to get out of his way! She had known that defying him hadn't been the right thing to do. But why had she done it? Why hadn't she stepped aside? And now he thought that...
"You are an idiot, Malfoy!" she sputtered.
He leaned closer. "I don't think so," he whispered.
That wasn't good. Her heart gave a painful jolt. She felt it rip through her chest as if wanting her to give in to him; and she realized that he knew what had happened by her sudden and unexpected intake of breath. She gritted her teeth. He was too close. But still she remained her ground, ignoring the warmth of his breath intermingling with her own.
"I'm warning you, Malfoy," she began.
"Warning me... about what?" He leaned closer. "That if you can't have me at this moment, that if you can't feel me at this moment, you would report me to the headmaster. Tell me, Granger," he whispered, "don't you think I would be a much better..." --- he grinned --- "...guest... than your friend, Weasley?"
Hermione drew in a sharp gasp of protest. She flared. "That was not what I meant, Malfoy! You know that was not what I meant! How dare you imply that of me! How dare you even think that of me! How dare you!"
To her surprise, Draco tilted his head back, and laughed.
He gaped at him, openly, her ears and her face red with embarrassment. She should have known... She should have known! How could she have left her guard down!
Unable to hold it in any longer, she covered her ears from his laughter, and screamed, "STOP IT!"
Eventually, Malfoy did. He looked down at her, noticing that she was about to break down in tears. He snorted. *Pathetic, * he thought. He never thought she could be conquered that easily. He glared down at her, and grinned. "Pitiful," he whispered. "Some people never change no matter how much they think they did." He looked her over. "You're no exception, you know. Just behind the glory of that badge of yours lies a sniveling, buck-teethed mud-blood, trying to be of good use to others who don't even need her."
"Stop it..." It came out as a silent plea, almost a whimper. But he went on.
"Take Weasley for example... you thought that he needed you. Isn't that the very reason that you agreed to be his 'loved one'? Strange... and I was beginning to think that there hadn't even been a change... Inside, I knew that he had considered you no more than a friend. But to everyone else, you're no more than a wretched mud-blood."
"Please..."
Hermione was already down on her knees, feeling her words wrench painfully at her heart, at her pride. She could still hear them being spoken even through the barrier of her hands on her ears. She hated him... because what he had said was true...
Draco watched her, saw the tears flowing uncontrollably, saw them drenching the floor with their salty awareness. He felt something tug the walls of his heart, and for once, he didn't hesitate to obey it. "Get up," were his silent words of command. He didn't expect her to listen, but surprisingly, she did, slowly. And what was even more surprising was that she did it without the slightest hesitation.
She was finally back on her feet, and she wiped her tears away with the back of her hand, she sniffed.
"Look at me."
Draco's voice was firm. However, she did not know what it was that had compelled her to obey him, but she did, and even surprised herself that she did. She was sure that he was going to laugh at her for that. However... she was too weak with realization to protest. And it couldn't bring any harm to obey him just one more time.
She looked up at him...
And was taken aback.
Was she seeing right? Was she actually seeing something in those eyes other than their unfathomable depth? Was she seeing... pity? Or was it merely a hallucination that was brought about by her sadness and her fear to see him with such utter loathing? But no... through the haze of her tears, she was seeing more clearly than she could without them. She could see it, an emotion that lay deeper, beyond what any mortal's eyes could see. She was seeing him for the first time. Not the vile snake that she had been used to, but an inner virtue of such dire emotion that she could not fathom. She saw... love?
Hermione pushed it aside. No. That wasn't right. It was only pity that she saw. Whether it was pity in its highest degree, it was pity nonetheless. He pitied her. For what? He pitied her because he knew that she was going to live the entirety of her life with the knowledge that she was an outcast, of this world and of her parents' world, belonging to both, and yet of neither. She was a Muggle with magical abilities. What kind of Muggle was she? What kind of wizard was she?
"I said, look at me."
Draco's unmistakable voice pierced through her reverie. And she saw something that she shouldn't have. She saw him as the boy who she had seen on the train, the boy who looked strange, but familiar, having both beauty and ugliness colliding in a single body, in a single entity. He was a different person all the same.
He watched her, long silver-blond hair falling over the sides of his face, strong and powerfully jaws tightly set, perfectly sculptured features, fair skin that she noticed was almost tanning, stretching over a lithe and hard-muscled body that anyone could die for.
She clenched her fists. It was hard not to look at him; and harder still to even look at him and find it impossible not to want him. He was... beautiful. Handsome wouldn't even come close in describing him. And whether she liked it or not, she felt almost as if she was in the presence of so holy a divinity that to even look at him would have turned out to be sacrilegious!
She narrowed her eyes. What was she thinking of! Surely she couldn't like him. Draco was Harry's enemy. Which made him Ron's enemy; and so, automatically, became her enemy as well, something that even he himself confirmed by the way that he had brought out the worst of her torment.
Suddenly, his gaze hardened, and he sidled away with the most silent of footfalls.
She hated him. He was her enemy.
*You can't mean that... * a part of her mind began to sigh, *he's so beautiful... And when you look at him... and his eyes... Oh! How can you pass off such a person as him! *
*Because he isn't a person, * the other part of her mind argued. *He isn't anything I want to be near to. He isn't anything I want! He isn't anything...*
*Just look at him ---! *
*Just look at me! I am nothing to him! And he is nothing to me... I love Ron...*
*But Ron does not love you...*
*And neither does he. *
*How do you know... *
*I know... *
The source of her sighs finally became a silent awareness that would she knew wouldn't be able to bother her for a while; but in one way or another, she could still hear its soft and longing breath sighing itself away, into a corner of her mind. But all the while, all she could ever seem to hear was the sound of her scornful laughter, and the contrast... the gleam of love in his eyes.