Title: Curiosity
Rating: R language and sexuality…
Spoilers: Books
Key: Hermoine/Draco mmm…
Summary: Hermoine decides enough is enough. She wants answers so she's going to get them, even if she has to hit Malfoy a few times…and she has no problem with that.
A/N: Screw tests, this is much more fun…
**
before
**
Malfoy wasn't feeling to good himself.
In fact, the more he limped, the more his scars flared up, and he felt the weirdest dizzying sensation. It snuck up his back, slowly, until he was faced with full frontal vertigo.
It was there, on the stairwell leading back to the medical wing, that he was hit was something other than vertigo or dizziness, or anything else.
He was hit with...guilt.
Surprisingly, he was getting used to the feeling, the guilt, the anger, the confusion, it was all rolled up into a tight, hard, ball of twine that rested neatly in the pit of his stomach.
What had he been thinking?
This was Granger, mud blood, waste of time. Not worth the energy and the self-hate that he was putting into all of this.
On the other hand...
There was no other hand, Malfoy slammed his good hand into the wall, out of frustration, out of anger.
There was no other hand...just-
It was then that Malfoy realized that his hand was bleeding. He hissed in pain and brought the errant knuckle to his mouth, trying to get the blood off.
It tasted nasty.
Metallic.
He winced, and made his way back to his cot and under the covers, grateful that Mrs. Pomfry had fallen asleep on a pile of books, grateful that Potter and Weasley were too far gone to care, and grateful that blankets and pillows didn't have the ability to talk back, and didn't hurt him back when he punched them.
**
now
**
Hermoine had finally returned to her room to see it as empty as before. The house-elves had already made the bed, and the sheets were back to their straight, clean lines.
She wanted to break something.
She sat down on the bed, slipping off her shoes with her toes and wriggling them out of their socks. She tucked her feet under the covers, and punched her pillow a few times.
It would have to do.
Even after her little nap in the library, she still felt tired, drained.
Only this time, after her eyes closed and her breathing settled into an even rhythm, she did not dream.
**
Malfoy woke up to Mrs. Pomfry muttering under her breath about insolent boys.
When he dared crack open an eyelid, he saw her moving around the med-wing, cataloguing potions and spells. Malfoy immediately closed the one eyes, not having the energy to deal with her at the moment.
"Mr. Malfoy, drop the act, I know you are awake." She spoke harshly, turning around to face him, tapping her wand against her hand, "And I am quite aware of your nocturnal activities."
Malfoy groaned, as he pushed himself up into a sitting position.
"I do not understand why you insist of exasperating your condition any more than necessary. If you insist on continuing your little midnight adventures, I will be forced to consult with Dumbledore, do you want that?"
Malfoy shook his head, but groaned again when it felt as if his brain was about to implode.
That did not feel good.
Pomfry, suddenly aware of his discomfort came rushing up, her wand already emitting a healing charm, "There, there," She muttered, patting his head with a cool towel, "You see?" She continued, as she fussed and bustled, "That's what you get when you don't listen to doctor's orders."
No, answered Draco to himself, You get slapped, poked, and kissed. All perfectly good reasons for tremendous headaches in the morning.
After Mrs. Pomfry finished her ministrations she left Draco to himself.
He sighed, and shifted a bit in his bed. The covers were much warmer than those back in his room; the pillows were much fluffier as well.
But he was uncomfortable. The pillow was stiff, the blankets...not warm enough.
He was cold.
His teeth didn't chatter, his toes didn't curl but the knot in is stomach felt dipped in ice.
He looked around for Mrs. Pomfry, maybe she could get him more blankets, or maybe a better pillow...something...anything.
But Pomfry had disappeared into her office, probably buried under medical texts and healing potions.
Potter and Weasley weren't much help.
He considered, briefly, grabbing their blankets, they didn't seem to need them, what were they going to do?
Fight back?
Light streamed in through the window and the whorls and eddies of dust were revealed. He caught glimpses of brooms flying by; bright, Gryffindor colors that hurt his eyes.
He was...freezing.
He called for Madam Pomfry once more, but no one heard him. He glanced at the dial on the wall, and bugger it was lunch.
That would explain the gnawing knot in his stomach.
He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, wincing slightly at the feel of the stone.
Cold.
The knot, Draco convinced himself, was from hunger. He was hungry, that's all, just....hungry.
**
Hermoine woke up to the sun streaming through the windows. The heavy curtains that she had drawn over them were open now, tucked in their little holders. A House-Elf had been through. Her shoes, dirty and blood stained last night, shone with black polish and her torn clothing had been replaced with a school uniform.
She yawned, feeling her muscles protest as she stretched and twisted her back. A dull headache, a seemingly permanent fixture since...it had happen...was already forming. It pounded dully behind and between her eyes. She groaned and kneaded the muscles of her neck.
No good.
She resigned herself to getting dressed, pulling on the school-issued stockings, the knee-length skirt, the white polo and her Gryffindor vest. She smoothed down her hair, the curls and tangles lying limply on her shoulders.
For some reason she was exhausted, more tired now than before.
His tongue pressed against her teeth, pushing, forcing-
The thought came unbidden and Hermoine cursed under her breath, not now, not after-
She forced his tongue back with her own, bringing her hand around to pull him closer, to bring everything closer-
She slammed her hand, palm open, against the table a resounding slap, hoping the sound would snap her out of this, out of-
His mouth was warm, hot and his breath fell wetly against her cheek-
GODDAMN IT!
She growled something unintelligible under hear breath.
This had to stop.
It had to.
Malfoy...Malfoy did something to her, she was sure of it.
She had so many questions, and not enough answers to go with them.
Why had Malfoy sent her the letter?
Why had he been caught in the Whooping Willow?
Why had he kissed her?
She had a few options open to her. She could mope around, crying or not crying, over Potter and Ron and Mum and Dad. She could confront Malfoy, find out why he was being such a sod, but that, she feared, would lead to more snogging.
Snogging, Hermoine had quickly learned, led to other bad things, especially with Malfoys.
What would Ron think?
What would Harry think?
But she had to do something.
This was ridiculous, all this moping around. She had been too late to save her parents, too late to do anything useful for them.
But Harry...Ron, they were still breathing.... there could still be time.
So Hermoine grabbed a sweater and headed out the door; she was determined to get answers. If Malfoy wouldn't give them to her, she would sock him good, the sodding bastard.
And no snogging.
Definitely NO snogging.
**
"And where do you think you are going young man?" Madam Pomfry's voice rang out from her office.
Draco Malfoy, currently in the process of sneaking out, cursed under his breath and stopped.
"I heard that!" Her voice rang out again. She came out of her office, her arms crossed, and irate look on her face, "Really, Mr. Malfoy, one would think that such a bright boy would learn quickly." She shook her finger at him, "So answer the question, Mr. Malfoy, where do you think you're going?"
He tried to think of a good excuse, but he realized he had none; they all seemed to have escaped him during the night, "Uh-um..."
"I imagine," Madam Pomfry continued for him as she walked towards him, "You would want to be heading back to class, since you are conscious and quite able to move about. Am I correct?" She looked at him expectantly, awaiting an answer to her rhetorical question.
"Uh...um..."
"I thought so." She clapped her hands, her eyes glimmering with mischief, "Let's get you dressed and out of here, I wouldn't want to keep your teachers waiting."
Before Malfoy knew it he was back in his school robes, his book satchel his hand, and Madam Pomfry's foot on his butt kicking him out.
Well.
He looked down at himself.
Madam Pomfry had hexed away his scars and his skin was back to normal. His robes hung a bit loose, and he still felt a little dizzy when he walked, but all in all he looked fine.
On the outside at least.
Inside, he felt like a mess of open nerves, all of them firing at random times.
Guilt. Worry. Confusion.
He slammed his fist into the wall.
Mud blood.
Fucking mud blood.
**
Hermoine was surprised to see Malfoy's bed empty, all straightened out and unslept in.
She spun on her heel, looking around trying to see where the slimy git had hidden himself. She was half-surprised that she hadn't ran into him yet, both literally and figuratively.
Harry and Ron were still in bed though.
That hadn't changed.
They still breathed, and still did not do much of anything.
At all.
She spun on her heel and left the room, unable to deal with what was growing in the pit of her stomach. Malfoy knew the answers; she had tried to convince herself of that.
He was somewhere around here, and she would find him.
She needed answers.
Now.
**
Draco managed to get through Potions without too much trouble. Crabbe and Goyle didn't seem to care that he had been missing for a day, Pansy was fawning all over him, constantly asking him how he felt, was there anything she could do. As for Snape, he wore a disapproving look on his face throughout the class; he must have known exactly why Draco had been missing.
The growing pile of homework that he had missed was more than enough to push the annoying Granger out of his mind for a while.
That was until he ran into her in the hall after potions.
Again.
**
Hermoine grabbed hold of Malfoy's collar as he passed her in the halls. Wrenching her arm, she pulled him into the shadows were she held onto his robe.
"Hello Malfoy." She whispered, her voice a dangerous mix of anger and calm, "How are you?"
Malfoy, not used to being pushed around by random small-framed girls. Especially Mud bloods. Especially Mud bloods.
"What do you want?" He hissed back, looking around to see if anyone saw him. It was bad enough that rumors were going around about him, Harry, and the whooping willow, but he did not need to add Granger to the mix.
"Answers." Hermoine's hand tightened its grip on Malfoy's robes.
"Is this how your mud blood parents raised you? Is slamming random persons against the wall polite from whatever place you came from"
"I really don't have time for your nonsense, so just answer the question."
"You didn't bloody ask me a question!" He grabbed her wrist with a hand in an effort to make her let go. "Ask your stupid question than leave me alone."
Hermoine slammed him against the wall, trying to get herself, and him, under control.
And then she couldn't hold up the facade anymore, her arms felt tired, she just wanted to stop with...with all the fighting.
Hermoine suddenly let go of his robes and stepped back, suddenly nervous, suddenly unsure.
"Just...tell me...tell me what's going on."
Malfoy, smoothing down his robes leant back against the wall that he had been previously pushed up against, "You'll have to be more specific than that."
"I just wanted a few answers." Hermoine felt tired all of a sudden; she had just woken up and now she was exhausted.
Students were making their way to their next class, and the halls rang with the sounds of rustling bags and feet.
Draco looked just past Hermoine, watching as students walked by their little alcove. He looked back at Hermoine who shifted from foot to foot, seemingly uncomfortable in her own skin.
He knew what she was asking, and he didn't want to answer.
If he told her, then everything....
Everything...
...Would change.
The late bell rang, and suddenly the bustling halls were empty again; everything was quiet. Draco still could not think of anything to say, and the thousands of bitter, angry, spiteful remarks that were on the tip of his tongue faded away along with his words.
He sighed, looking down at his feet.
"What do you want?" He asked, his voice devoid of anything Hermoine could recognize. He seemed tired.
Stretched thin.
"Why-Why did you send me that letter?"
"Which one?"
Hermoine grimaced, "You know what I'm talking about. Why?"
"I-" He tried telling the truth, just to see what it was like, "-I guess it was because I thought that you should know."
They both fell silent and Hermoine tried to see what he really meant. She looked into his eyes and tried to pry him apart.
Nothing was forth coming, and Hermoine gave up trying.
She looked down at her hands, watched them with curiosity as they twisted among themselves.
Why? She kept asking herself, Why is he doing this?
She gave up trying to figure him out; she looked back at him, "Tell me why you were at the whooping willows."
Draco felt his chest constrict, and something bubbled up against his throat, and he knew that he didn't want to answer, but he did anyway.
Because then she would know...
"I was curious...I wanted...I wanted to find out what happened."
...what you really are.
Hermoine glanced back up at him, "Curious? You were curious?"
Draco nodded, trying to avoid looking Granger in the eyes.
She laughed, a low, lilting sound that made his ears ring. She was doubled over now, clutching her stomach, until she plopped onto the floor and continued to laugh.
Draco felt his face turn red and anger bubbling up into his throat, "Why are you laughing?" He whispered and when she didn't answer he slammed his fist into the wall beside her head. He leaned into her face, "Explain. The. Humor."
She tried to tame her grin into a frown, but she had frowned so long that it was tired, and she was tired, and all she could do was smile some more. In between fits of giggle she managed to get out, "It's funny! It's just-"
"What is so funny?"
"Isn't curiosity what got us into this mess in the first place?"
She looked up at him, her eyes glinting with humor and charm and wit and sarcasm and everything he had ever come to expect from the little mud blood girl and her sharpened verbal claws.
Her smile.... dazzling.
It broadsided him, and he felt something in him break.
It was...infectious.
Cathartic.
The tension, the anger, the strange knot in his stomach, unraveled and fell apart.
And then it bubbled up into his throat and before he knew it he collapsed beside her, laughing and wiping tears away from his eyes.
The laughter had stopped for a moment and Hermoine and Draco looked at each other, watching as the other tried to get their faces under control.
Of course, it didn't work (these things never did), and the giggles and snorts came back even harder.
It was nice... they both realized, most likely at the same time.... just to laugh.
The fit of laughter ended finally, with both of them gasping for breath, trying to pull in as much oxygen as possible into their tired lungs.
Draco couldn't remember the last time he had laughed like that...not even when Potter or Weasley did something stupid (per usual). He was surprised that it had comes so easy for him, and was surprised how good it felt.
For Hermoine, however, she remembered the exactly the last time she had laughed like that, the torrid storm of giggles and hiccups that ended when the need from air became so great that it came down to laughing or living.
She remembered exactly when.
It had been with Harry and Ron. Harry had said something stupid, leaving Ron and Hermoine to look at each other knowingly. For some reason whatever Harry had said (she couldn't remember) had been too funny for Hermoine and Ron and they had been hit by the storm.
And so, after Draco and Hermoine had stopped laughing and began to breath again, Hermoine felt the laughter leave and the sodding tears come back.
Draco was surprised then, that Hermoine began to cry, tiny little hitching sobs that wracked her shoulders as she tried to hide the tears from him.
Draco found his voice back, hoarse and sore from laughing, "What-what's wrong?" He asked, unsure of what to do. She couldn't answer him unable to form words out of the hitches in her breath.
Draco watched dumbly.
Should he...
His arm came up, floating just above her hitching back.
Could he...
He let his hand drop onto her back, his fingers unconsciously moving in small circles.
"Shh..." He managed to get out, feeling very out of place, "It's-It's going to be ok..."
**
Hermoine felt his hands on her back and she wondered for the hundredth time what in the bloody hell was he doing?
She looked up at him; he was slouched against the wall, looking glum and confused, the oddest expression on his face, "Sorry," She sniffed, wiping her nose, "Memories."
He nodded, as if he understood but Hermoine had a feeling that he didn't. She felt the question on the tip of her tongue and she let it escape.
"Why are you doing this?" She asked, finally.
He looked at her, but did not really see her. She wondered why it would take him so long to think of an answer.
"I guess-" He began, "I guess because...I don't know."
Hermoine felt her eyebrow go up in surprise, "Malfoy-"
"Draco."
"What?"
"My name is Draco. Malfoy is what everyone calls my father."
"So-?"
"So don't call me that." He sounded angry, withdrawing his hand from her back, and Hermoine felt the cold absence.
His hand had been...warm.
She turned to him, "So you want me to call you Draco?"
He nodded.
Hermoine let her headrest on her arms, which were wrapped around her knees, "Fine then. Draco. Answer this one last question, and I won't bother you again."
Draco snorted but nodded for her to continue.
"Tell me then...What the FUCK is going on?!?"
Draco, who had been examining his feet for some answers looked up at her in surprise, "What? What did I do to deserve that tone?"
"You're being too goddamn nice, that's what!"
"Excuse me?!? You're angry at me for being nice?!? Tell me, Granger, what in the BLOODY blue hell is wrong with you NOW?"
Hermoine pushed herself up off the floor, turning to point her finger (again) in Malfoy's face, "You-Malfoy- are bloody impossible to understand. For six years, SIX YEARS, you where a horrible prat who made our lives a living hell, and now, suddenly, you're all comforting and considerate and nice. WHAT THE FUCK is going on?!?"
"Nothing! Nothing is going on!"
"Bullshit, I don't believe you. You've got something riding on this, you know something."
"I don't know what you're talking about, I'm just trying to be nice-"
"BULLSHIT!" She shouted again, "This is not you, Draco Malfoy is a malicious git, not an altruist! So tell me, Malfoy, what do you have riding on this?"
He stared at her dumbly at first during her tirade, but when she finished, he too pushed himself up off the floor. What did she want from him? He tried to be nice, and now he assumed from Granger's reaction that it did not suit him. "Fine! Fuck this shit! You don't want me to be nice, fine, I can do not nice."
And he slapped her, open palm, in the face.
She pulled back, her hand already flying up to the darkening red spot on her cheek.
As for Draco, he withdrew his hand, and stepped back, his eyes cold.
Her face, the shocked, what-the-fuck-was-going-on face, chilling him to the bone.
"What-" Hermoine managed to get out through clenched teeth, "-Was that for?"
"That's how you wanted me to be," He snarled, before turning away from her.
He stepped back into the hall and hitched his book satchel onto his shoulder. He looked at her, his eyes boring into her own, a grim smile on his face:
"Right?"
**
His palm stung from where it had connected with her face.
It throbbed a bit; her cheek had been bony.
Cold.
And now his hand burned, vibrating slightly like a tuning fork.
He really, really wanted to throw up.
He made it to his next class, Arthimacy, without hitting any other mud blood girls.
What had he been thinking...what the...
**
...FUCK!
Hermoine really wanted to hit something.
Actually, not just anything.... a specific someone to be more precise.
That blonde-haired, blue-eyes, sodding piece of SHIT.
She had tried to catch up with the bastard, so she could give him a few choice words before she rendered him impotent, but Draco-Malfoy- had already run off somewhere.
She was left, then, pissed off, angry, and a little bit annoyed.
She didn't know, however, where this annoyance was directed to, herself or Malfoy?
He had been trying, she realized it now, to be nice, in his horrible, fucked-up Malfoy way. He had hardly gone out of his way to purposefully hurt her.
He had tried to comfort her twice now.
Fuck, he had tried to kiss her twice now.
Jesus, she thought, things just keep getting worse and worse and worse and don't seem to be getting any better.
She really wanted to hit something and the wall was looking like a very attractive candidate.
But she didn't.
Rather, she kicked it a few times in effort to blow off some steam. She only managed, however, to hurt her toe.
Bloody Malfoy. She cursed under breath, Bloody wall.
She knew now what she had to do, and it pained her to even think it.
She had to apologize.
She sighed in frustration.
She had to apologize to Draco Malfoy.
Goddamnit, she thought as she made her way out of the alcove, this sucks.
**
Malfoy was half-way to his next class when he felt the mud bloods familiar hand wrap around his robes.
Oh no, he thought as he was pulled into yet another alcove, Not again.
He turned to her, hands already crossing over his chest, "Fuck, Granger, do you have a bloody death wish?"
She scowled at him, her hands on her hips, her nose crinkling in the cutest way, "Is that what you want to do Malfoy, kill me?"
"No, but you seem to have an unhealthy fascination with pain."
"Look, Malfoy, I'm sick and tired of-"
"Is this what you tracked me down, again, for? You want to scream at me some more? Didn't get it out of your system the first time around?"
"Mal-"
He waved his hand to cut her off, "Let's just get to the part where you poke me in the chest, call me something involving the world 'bloody' and 'shite'; get in a little snog, and go home. Ok?"
"MALFOY!"
"Or we can just go straight to the part where I slap you." He grinned, "You want that? You seem to get off on pain-"
She slapped him, hard. His ears were ringing, his cheek flared red, and the sound of breaking glass seemed to penetrate his brain.
Through the dizziness and the lancing pain he found himself impressed.
Good arm, he thought as he was pushed against the wall (again).
Hermoine smiled through gritted teeth, "I decided to skip that part, let's just go straight to part where I get what I want."
Malfoy grinned, unable to help himself. This was so easy.
So very easy.
"If it involves coco-butter and a feather tipped wand, be my guest-" Hermoine's hand cut him off, covering his mouth as she leaned in.
"Just. Shut. Up." She growled, "I'm trying to apologize."
Malfoy tore his mouth away from her hand, "Is that what you were doing? Color me confused, I thought you were PHYSCIALLY ASSAULTING ME!" He shouted.
"ARGH!" Hermoine let go of Malfoy's robes, "That's it! I am sick and tired of all this bickering, just answer my question, ok? That's it! Give me an answer and I'll bloody well LEAVE YOU ALONE!!!"
Surprisingly Malfoy didn't shout anything back.
They looked at each other dumbly, both trying to figure the other out.
Stupid bloody, fucking, mud blood...
...How dare he?!? How dare…
…She looks so goddamn hot. Bloody distracting....
...the way he constantly fucking argues, I just want a bloody...
...answer her. Fine, she wants an answer; I'll give her...
...Something, just anything, just give me...
Draco broke their gaze, shifting his gaze to study the tips of his shoes.
"An answer. You want an answer. You won't like it Granger, and that's why I really don't want to tell you-"
"Why? Why can't you tell me anything..." Her voice lowered, "Is it Voldemort?"
Draco winced, shaking his head, "No, that's the thing Granger," He looked back up at her and she was struck at how honest he looked, "It's not Voldemort, it's not Dementors, it's-"
"Stop stalling Malfoy," Hermoine sighed, trying to get her voice under control, "Just-" She looked down at her feet, "Tell me."
He wanted to snap at her, to say something cruel because that was what his old self would have done.
He wouldn't have been so nervous.
He wouldn't have been at a loss for words.
He wouldn't have cared.
But he was nervous; he was at a loss for words, and bloody, fucking, blue- balled, hell, he did care.
"-They were stupid, Hermoine," She looked up at him, trying read into what he was saying, trying to look under the double meaning that weren't there, "They were stupid. Just bloody stupid," He sighed and dug his toe into the ground, and tried to avoid her eyes, "That's why I was at the whooping willows. I wanted to know, Hermoine," He looked up at her, his eyes pleading and open and so goddamn truthful, "I don't know why," His voice turned bitter and he turned away from her gaze, "It's all your bloody fault Granger."
He found that it suddenly became hard to breath...She was looking at him with here big, brown-somanyfuckingcolors-eyes that just begged him to take it back and give her something solid to hang on to.
To blame.
He heard her breath hitch in her throat, a small cry escaping from her lips before he didn't hear much at all.
She seemed to have stopped breathing. Her small hand was to her throat and the way she stared at him looked as if he had slapped her again.
His throat felt raw, lined with sandpaper.
God, he thought, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'll take it back, I swear, it was Voldemort, it was an evil plot, it was fucking Hitler but please, please, please don't cry.
He didn't think he could take it anymore.
Don't cry, just don't fucking cry…
**
A/N Ok, I thought we were nearing the end, but plot bunnies have taken over my brain so there maybe even more chapters than I originally had imagined. On the other hand my writing skills seemed to have escaped me, ergh, and the full grip of tests is taking hold. Writing essays 24/7 has worn me thin, and as you can see, it reflects on the story.
HOWEVER.
I have the plot all lined out and it WILL be finished. I am determined.
Argh.
Like the Pirates.
-dafnap
To all those who have reviewed all-ready: I love you. No really. I wish to bear the child of each and everyone of you, and I mean that in the nicest way possible.
::grin::
Rating: R language and sexuality…
Spoilers: Books
Key: Hermoine/Draco mmm…
Summary: Hermoine decides enough is enough. She wants answers so she's going to get them, even if she has to hit Malfoy a few times…and she has no problem with that.
A/N: Screw tests, this is much more fun…
**
before
**
Malfoy wasn't feeling to good himself.
In fact, the more he limped, the more his scars flared up, and he felt the weirdest dizzying sensation. It snuck up his back, slowly, until he was faced with full frontal vertigo.
It was there, on the stairwell leading back to the medical wing, that he was hit was something other than vertigo or dizziness, or anything else.
He was hit with...guilt.
Surprisingly, he was getting used to the feeling, the guilt, the anger, the confusion, it was all rolled up into a tight, hard, ball of twine that rested neatly in the pit of his stomach.
What had he been thinking?
This was Granger, mud blood, waste of time. Not worth the energy and the self-hate that he was putting into all of this.
On the other hand...
There was no other hand, Malfoy slammed his good hand into the wall, out of frustration, out of anger.
There was no other hand...just-
It was then that Malfoy realized that his hand was bleeding. He hissed in pain and brought the errant knuckle to his mouth, trying to get the blood off.
It tasted nasty.
Metallic.
He winced, and made his way back to his cot and under the covers, grateful that Mrs. Pomfry had fallen asleep on a pile of books, grateful that Potter and Weasley were too far gone to care, and grateful that blankets and pillows didn't have the ability to talk back, and didn't hurt him back when he punched them.
**
now
**
Hermoine had finally returned to her room to see it as empty as before. The house-elves had already made the bed, and the sheets were back to their straight, clean lines.
She wanted to break something.
She sat down on the bed, slipping off her shoes with her toes and wriggling them out of their socks. She tucked her feet under the covers, and punched her pillow a few times.
It would have to do.
Even after her little nap in the library, she still felt tired, drained.
Only this time, after her eyes closed and her breathing settled into an even rhythm, she did not dream.
**
Malfoy woke up to Mrs. Pomfry muttering under her breath about insolent boys.
When he dared crack open an eyelid, he saw her moving around the med-wing, cataloguing potions and spells. Malfoy immediately closed the one eyes, not having the energy to deal with her at the moment.
"Mr. Malfoy, drop the act, I know you are awake." She spoke harshly, turning around to face him, tapping her wand against her hand, "And I am quite aware of your nocturnal activities."
Malfoy groaned, as he pushed himself up into a sitting position.
"I do not understand why you insist of exasperating your condition any more than necessary. If you insist on continuing your little midnight adventures, I will be forced to consult with Dumbledore, do you want that?"
Malfoy shook his head, but groaned again when it felt as if his brain was about to implode.
That did not feel good.
Pomfry, suddenly aware of his discomfort came rushing up, her wand already emitting a healing charm, "There, there," She muttered, patting his head with a cool towel, "You see?" She continued, as she fussed and bustled, "That's what you get when you don't listen to doctor's orders."
No, answered Draco to himself, You get slapped, poked, and kissed. All perfectly good reasons for tremendous headaches in the morning.
After Mrs. Pomfry finished her ministrations she left Draco to himself.
He sighed, and shifted a bit in his bed. The covers were much warmer than those back in his room; the pillows were much fluffier as well.
But he was uncomfortable. The pillow was stiff, the blankets...not warm enough.
He was cold.
His teeth didn't chatter, his toes didn't curl but the knot in is stomach felt dipped in ice.
He looked around for Mrs. Pomfry, maybe she could get him more blankets, or maybe a better pillow...something...anything.
But Pomfry had disappeared into her office, probably buried under medical texts and healing potions.
Potter and Weasley weren't much help.
He considered, briefly, grabbing their blankets, they didn't seem to need them, what were they going to do?
Fight back?
Light streamed in through the window and the whorls and eddies of dust were revealed. He caught glimpses of brooms flying by; bright, Gryffindor colors that hurt his eyes.
He was...freezing.
He called for Madam Pomfry once more, but no one heard him. He glanced at the dial on the wall, and bugger it was lunch.
That would explain the gnawing knot in his stomach.
He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, wincing slightly at the feel of the stone.
Cold.
The knot, Draco convinced himself, was from hunger. He was hungry, that's all, just....hungry.
**
Hermoine woke up to the sun streaming through the windows. The heavy curtains that she had drawn over them were open now, tucked in their little holders. A House-Elf had been through. Her shoes, dirty and blood stained last night, shone with black polish and her torn clothing had been replaced with a school uniform.
She yawned, feeling her muscles protest as she stretched and twisted her back. A dull headache, a seemingly permanent fixture since...it had happen...was already forming. It pounded dully behind and between her eyes. She groaned and kneaded the muscles of her neck.
No good.
She resigned herself to getting dressed, pulling on the school-issued stockings, the knee-length skirt, the white polo and her Gryffindor vest. She smoothed down her hair, the curls and tangles lying limply on her shoulders.
For some reason she was exhausted, more tired now than before.
His tongue pressed against her teeth, pushing, forcing-
The thought came unbidden and Hermoine cursed under her breath, not now, not after-
She forced his tongue back with her own, bringing her hand around to pull him closer, to bring everything closer-
She slammed her hand, palm open, against the table a resounding slap, hoping the sound would snap her out of this, out of-
His mouth was warm, hot and his breath fell wetly against her cheek-
GODDAMN IT!
She growled something unintelligible under hear breath.
This had to stop.
It had to.
Malfoy...Malfoy did something to her, she was sure of it.
She had so many questions, and not enough answers to go with them.
Why had Malfoy sent her the letter?
Why had he been caught in the Whooping Willow?
Why had he kissed her?
She had a few options open to her. She could mope around, crying or not crying, over Potter and Ron and Mum and Dad. She could confront Malfoy, find out why he was being such a sod, but that, she feared, would lead to more snogging.
Snogging, Hermoine had quickly learned, led to other bad things, especially with Malfoys.
What would Ron think?
What would Harry think?
But she had to do something.
This was ridiculous, all this moping around. She had been too late to save her parents, too late to do anything useful for them.
But Harry...Ron, they were still breathing.... there could still be time.
So Hermoine grabbed a sweater and headed out the door; she was determined to get answers. If Malfoy wouldn't give them to her, she would sock him good, the sodding bastard.
And no snogging.
Definitely NO snogging.
**
"And where do you think you are going young man?" Madam Pomfry's voice rang out from her office.
Draco Malfoy, currently in the process of sneaking out, cursed under his breath and stopped.
"I heard that!" Her voice rang out again. She came out of her office, her arms crossed, and irate look on her face, "Really, Mr. Malfoy, one would think that such a bright boy would learn quickly." She shook her finger at him, "So answer the question, Mr. Malfoy, where do you think you're going?"
He tried to think of a good excuse, but he realized he had none; they all seemed to have escaped him during the night, "Uh-um..."
"I imagine," Madam Pomfry continued for him as she walked towards him, "You would want to be heading back to class, since you are conscious and quite able to move about. Am I correct?" She looked at him expectantly, awaiting an answer to her rhetorical question.
"Uh...um..."
"I thought so." She clapped her hands, her eyes glimmering with mischief, "Let's get you dressed and out of here, I wouldn't want to keep your teachers waiting."
Before Malfoy knew it he was back in his school robes, his book satchel his hand, and Madam Pomfry's foot on his butt kicking him out.
Well.
He looked down at himself.
Madam Pomfry had hexed away his scars and his skin was back to normal. His robes hung a bit loose, and he still felt a little dizzy when he walked, but all in all he looked fine.
On the outside at least.
Inside, he felt like a mess of open nerves, all of them firing at random times.
Guilt. Worry. Confusion.
He slammed his fist into the wall.
Mud blood.
Fucking mud blood.
**
Hermoine was surprised to see Malfoy's bed empty, all straightened out and unslept in.
She spun on her heel, looking around trying to see where the slimy git had hidden himself. She was half-surprised that she hadn't ran into him yet, both literally and figuratively.
Harry and Ron were still in bed though.
That hadn't changed.
They still breathed, and still did not do much of anything.
At all.
She spun on her heel and left the room, unable to deal with what was growing in the pit of her stomach. Malfoy knew the answers; she had tried to convince herself of that.
He was somewhere around here, and she would find him.
She needed answers.
Now.
**
Draco managed to get through Potions without too much trouble. Crabbe and Goyle didn't seem to care that he had been missing for a day, Pansy was fawning all over him, constantly asking him how he felt, was there anything she could do. As for Snape, he wore a disapproving look on his face throughout the class; he must have known exactly why Draco had been missing.
The growing pile of homework that he had missed was more than enough to push the annoying Granger out of his mind for a while.
That was until he ran into her in the hall after potions.
Again.
**
Hermoine grabbed hold of Malfoy's collar as he passed her in the halls. Wrenching her arm, she pulled him into the shadows were she held onto his robe.
"Hello Malfoy." She whispered, her voice a dangerous mix of anger and calm, "How are you?"
Malfoy, not used to being pushed around by random small-framed girls. Especially Mud bloods. Especially Mud bloods.
"What do you want?" He hissed back, looking around to see if anyone saw him. It was bad enough that rumors were going around about him, Harry, and the whooping willow, but he did not need to add Granger to the mix.
"Answers." Hermoine's hand tightened its grip on Malfoy's robes.
"Is this how your mud blood parents raised you? Is slamming random persons against the wall polite from whatever place you came from"
"I really don't have time for your nonsense, so just answer the question."
"You didn't bloody ask me a question!" He grabbed her wrist with a hand in an effort to make her let go. "Ask your stupid question than leave me alone."
Hermoine slammed him against the wall, trying to get herself, and him, under control.
And then she couldn't hold up the facade anymore, her arms felt tired, she just wanted to stop with...with all the fighting.
Hermoine suddenly let go of his robes and stepped back, suddenly nervous, suddenly unsure.
"Just...tell me...tell me what's going on."
Malfoy, smoothing down his robes leant back against the wall that he had been previously pushed up against, "You'll have to be more specific than that."
"I just wanted a few answers." Hermoine felt tired all of a sudden; she had just woken up and now she was exhausted.
Students were making their way to their next class, and the halls rang with the sounds of rustling bags and feet.
Draco looked just past Hermoine, watching as students walked by their little alcove. He looked back at Hermoine who shifted from foot to foot, seemingly uncomfortable in her own skin.
He knew what she was asking, and he didn't want to answer.
If he told her, then everything....
Everything...
...Would change.
The late bell rang, and suddenly the bustling halls were empty again; everything was quiet. Draco still could not think of anything to say, and the thousands of bitter, angry, spiteful remarks that were on the tip of his tongue faded away along with his words.
He sighed, looking down at his feet.
"What do you want?" He asked, his voice devoid of anything Hermoine could recognize. He seemed tired.
Stretched thin.
"Why-Why did you send me that letter?"
"Which one?"
Hermoine grimaced, "You know what I'm talking about. Why?"
"I-" He tried telling the truth, just to see what it was like, "-I guess it was because I thought that you should know."
They both fell silent and Hermoine tried to see what he really meant. She looked into his eyes and tried to pry him apart.
Nothing was forth coming, and Hermoine gave up trying.
She looked down at her hands, watched them with curiosity as they twisted among themselves.
Why? She kept asking herself, Why is he doing this?
She gave up trying to figure him out; she looked back at him, "Tell me why you were at the whooping willows."
Draco felt his chest constrict, and something bubbled up against his throat, and he knew that he didn't want to answer, but he did anyway.
Because then she would know...
"I was curious...I wanted...I wanted to find out what happened."
...what you really are.
Hermoine glanced back up at him, "Curious? You were curious?"
Draco nodded, trying to avoid looking Granger in the eyes.
She laughed, a low, lilting sound that made his ears ring. She was doubled over now, clutching her stomach, until she plopped onto the floor and continued to laugh.
Draco felt his face turn red and anger bubbling up into his throat, "Why are you laughing?" He whispered and when she didn't answer he slammed his fist into the wall beside her head. He leaned into her face, "Explain. The. Humor."
She tried to tame her grin into a frown, but she had frowned so long that it was tired, and she was tired, and all she could do was smile some more. In between fits of giggle she managed to get out, "It's funny! It's just-"
"What is so funny?"
"Isn't curiosity what got us into this mess in the first place?"
She looked up at him, her eyes glinting with humor and charm and wit and sarcasm and everything he had ever come to expect from the little mud blood girl and her sharpened verbal claws.
Her smile.... dazzling.
It broadsided him, and he felt something in him break.
It was...infectious.
Cathartic.
The tension, the anger, the strange knot in his stomach, unraveled and fell apart.
And then it bubbled up into his throat and before he knew it he collapsed beside her, laughing and wiping tears away from his eyes.
The laughter had stopped for a moment and Hermoine and Draco looked at each other, watching as the other tried to get their faces under control.
Of course, it didn't work (these things never did), and the giggles and snorts came back even harder.
It was nice... they both realized, most likely at the same time.... just to laugh.
The fit of laughter ended finally, with both of them gasping for breath, trying to pull in as much oxygen as possible into their tired lungs.
Draco couldn't remember the last time he had laughed like that...not even when Potter or Weasley did something stupid (per usual). He was surprised that it had comes so easy for him, and was surprised how good it felt.
For Hermoine, however, she remembered the exactly the last time she had laughed like that, the torrid storm of giggles and hiccups that ended when the need from air became so great that it came down to laughing or living.
She remembered exactly when.
It had been with Harry and Ron. Harry had said something stupid, leaving Ron and Hermoine to look at each other knowingly. For some reason whatever Harry had said (she couldn't remember) had been too funny for Hermoine and Ron and they had been hit by the storm.
And so, after Draco and Hermoine had stopped laughing and began to breath again, Hermoine felt the laughter leave and the sodding tears come back.
Draco was surprised then, that Hermoine began to cry, tiny little hitching sobs that wracked her shoulders as she tried to hide the tears from him.
Draco found his voice back, hoarse and sore from laughing, "What-what's wrong?" He asked, unsure of what to do. She couldn't answer him unable to form words out of the hitches in her breath.
Draco watched dumbly.
Should he...
His arm came up, floating just above her hitching back.
Could he...
He let his hand drop onto her back, his fingers unconsciously moving in small circles.
"Shh..." He managed to get out, feeling very out of place, "It's-It's going to be ok..."
**
Hermoine felt his hands on her back and she wondered for the hundredth time what in the bloody hell was he doing?
She looked up at him; he was slouched against the wall, looking glum and confused, the oddest expression on his face, "Sorry," She sniffed, wiping her nose, "Memories."
He nodded, as if he understood but Hermoine had a feeling that he didn't. She felt the question on the tip of her tongue and she let it escape.
"Why are you doing this?" She asked, finally.
He looked at her, but did not really see her. She wondered why it would take him so long to think of an answer.
"I guess-" He began, "I guess because...I don't know."
Hermoine felt her eyebrow go up in surprise, "Malfoy-"
"Draco."
"What?"
"My name is Draco. Malfoy is what everyone calls my father."
"So-?"
"So don't call me that." He sounded angry, withdrawing his hand from her back, and Hermoine felt the cold absence.
His hand had been...warm.
She turned to him, "So you want me to call you Draco?"
He nodded.
Hermoine let her headrest on her arms, which were wrapped around her knees, "Fine then. Draco. Answer this one last question, and I won't bother you again."
Draco snorted but nodded for her to continue.
"Tell me then...What the FUCK is going on?!?"
Draco, who had been examining his feet for some answers looked up at her in surprise, "What? What did I do to deserve that tone?"
"You're being too goddamn nice, that's what!"
"Excuse me?!? You're angry at me for being nice?!? Tell me, Granger, what in the BLOODY blue hell is wrong with you NOW?"
Hermoine pushed herself up off the floor, turning to point her finger (again) in Malfoy's face, "You-Malfoy- are bloody impossible to understand. For six years, SIX YEARS, you where a horrible prat who made our lives a living hell, and now, suddenly, you're all comforting and considerate and nice. WHAT THE FUCK is going on?!?"
"Nothing! Nothing is going on!"
"Bullshit, I don't believe you. You've got something riding on this, you know something."
"I don't know what you're talking about, I'm just trying to be nice-"
"BULLSHIT!" She shouted again, "This is not you, Draco Malfoy is a malicious git, not an altruist! So tell me, Malfoy, what do you have riding on this?"
He stared at her dumbly at first during her tirade, but when she finished, he too pushed himself up off the floor. What did she want from him? He tried to be nice, and now he assumed from Granger's reaction that it did not suit him. "Fine! Fuck this shit! You don't want me to be nice, fine, I can do not nice."
And he slapped her, open palm, in the face.
She pulled back, her hand already flying up to the darkening red spot on her cheek.
As for Draco, he withdrew his hand, and stepped back, his eyes cold.
Her face, the shocked, what-the-fuck-was-going-on face, chilling him to the bone.
"What-" Hermoine managed to get out through clenched teeth, "-Was that for?"
"That's how you wanted me to be," He snarled, before turning away from her.
He stepped back into the hall and hitched his book satchel onto his shoulder. He looked at her, his eyes boring into her own, a grim smile on his face:
"Right?"
**
His palm stung from where it had connected with her face.
It throbbed a bit; her cheek had been bony.
Cold.
And now his hand burned, vibrating slightly like a tuning fork.
He really, really wanted to throw up.
He made it to his next class, Arthimacy, without hitting any other mud blood girls.
What had he been thinking...what the...
**
...FUCK!
Hermoine really wanted to hit something.
Actually, not just anything.... a specific someone to be more precise.
That blonde-haired, blue-eyes, sodding piece of SHIT.
She had tried to catch up with the bastard, so she could give him a few choice words before she rendered him impotent, but Draco-Malfoy- had already run off somewhere.
She was left, then, pissed off, angry, and a little bit annoyed.
She didn't know, however, where this annoyance was directed to, herself or Malfoy?
He had been trying, she realized it now, to be nice, in his horrible, fucked-up Malfoy way. He had hardly gone out of his way to purposefully hurt her.
He had tried to comfort her twice now.
Fuck, he had tried to kiss her twice now.
Jesus, she thought, things just keep getting worse and worse and worse and don't seem to be getting any better.
She really wanted to hit something and the wall was looking like a very attractive candidate.
But she didn't.
Rather, she kicked it a few times in effort to blow off some steam. She only managed, however, to hurt her toe.
Bloody Malfoy. She cursed under breath, Bloody wall.
She knew now what she had to do, and it pained her to even think it.
She had to apologize.
She sighed in frustration.
She had to apologize to Draco Malfoy.
Goddamnit, she thought as she made her way out of the alcove, this sucks.
**
Malfoy was half-way to his next class when he felt the mud bloods familiar hand wrap around his robes.
Oh no, he thought as he was pulled into yet another alcove, Not again.
He turned to her, hands already crossing over his chest, "Fuck, Granger, do you have a bloody death wish?"
She scowled at him, her hands on her hips, her nose crinkling in the cutest way, "Is that what you want to do Malfoy, kill me?"
"No, but you seem to have an unhealthy fascination with pain."
"Look, Malfoy, I'm sick and tired of-"
"Is this what you tracked me down, again, for? You want to scream at me some more? Didn't get it out of your system the first time around?"
"Mal-"
He waved his hand to cut her off, "Let's just get to the part where you poke me in the chest, call me something involving the world 'bloody' and 'shite'; get in a little snog, and go home. Ok?"
"MALFOY!"
"Or we can just go straight to the part where I slap you." He grinned, "You want that? You seem to get off on pain-"
She slapped him, hard. His ears were ringing, his cheek flared red, and the sound of breaking glass seemed to penetrate his brain.
Through the dizziness and the lancing pain he found himself impressed.
Good arm, he thought as he was pushed against the wall (again).
Hermoine smiled through gritted teeth, "I decided to skip that part, let's just go straight to part where I get what I want."
Malfoy grinned, unable to help himself. This was so easy.
So very easy.
"If it involves coco-butter and a feather tipped wand, be my guest-" Hermoine's hand cut him off, covering his mouth as she leaned in.
"Just. Shut. Up." She growled, "I'm trying to apologize."
Malfoy tore his mouth away from her hand, "Is that what you were doing? Color me confused, I thought you were PHYSCIALLY ASSAULTING ME!" He shouted.
"ARGH!" Hermoine let go of Malfoy's robes, "That's it! I am sick and tired of all this bickering, just answer my question, ok? That's it! Give me an answer and I'll bloody well LEAVE YOU ALONE!!!"
Surprisingly Malfoy didn't shout anything back.
They looked at each other dumbly, both trying to figure the other out.
Stupid bloody, fucking, mud blood...
...How dare he?!? How dare…
…She looks so goddamn hot. Bloody distracting....
...the way he constantly fucking argues, I just want a bloody...
...answer her. Fine, she wants an answer; I'll give her...
...Something, just anything, just give me...
Draco broke their gaze, shifting his gaze to study the tips of his shoes.
"An answer. You want an answer. You won't like it Granger, and that's why I really don't want to tell you-"
"Why? Why can't you tell me anything..." Her voice lowered, "Is it Voldemort?"
Draco winced, shaking his head, "No, that's the thing Granger," He looked back up at her and she was struck at how honest he looked, "It's not Voldemort, it's not Dementors, it's-"
"Stop stalling Malfoy," Hermoine sighed, trying to get her voice under control, "Just-" She looked down at her feet, "Tell me."
He wanted to snap at her, to say something cruel because that was what his old self would have done.
He wouldn't have been so nervous.
He wouldn't have been at a loss for words.
He wouldn't have cared.
But he was nervous; he was at a loss for words, and bloody, fucking, blue- balled, hell, he did care.
"-They were stupid, Hermoine," She looked up at him, trying read into what he was saying, trying to look under the double meaning that weren't there, "They were stupid. Just bloody stupid," He sighed and dug his toe into the ground, and tried to avoid her eyes, "That's why I was at the whooping willows. I wanted to know, Hermoine," He looked up at her, his eyes pleading and open and so goddamn truthful, "I don't know why," His voice turned bitter and he turned away from her gaze, "It's all your bloody fault Granger."
He found that it suddenly became hard to breath...She was looking at him with here big, brown-somanyfuckingcolors-eyes that just begged him to take it back and give her something solid to hang on to.
To blame.
He heard her breath hitch in her throat, a small cry escaping from her lips before he didn't hear much at all.
She seemed to have stopped breathing. Her small hand was to her throat and the way she stared at him looked as if he had slapped her again.
His throat felt raw, lined with sandpaper.
God, he thought, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'll take it back, I swear, it was Voldemort, it was an evil plot, it was fucking Hitler but please, please, please don't cry.
He didn't think he could take it anymore.
Don't cry, just don't fucking cry…
**
A/N Ok, I thought we were nearing the end, but plot bunnies have taken over my brain so there maybe even more chapters than I originally had imagined. On the other hand my writing skills seemed to have escaped me, ergh, and the full grip of tests is taking hold. Writing essays 24/7 has worn me thin, and as you can see, it reflects on the story.
HOWEVER.
I have the plot all lined out and it WILL be finished. I am determined.
Argh.
Like the Pirates.
-dafnap
To all those who have reviewed all-ready: I love you. No really. I wish to bear the child of each and everyone of you, and I mean that in the nicest way possible.
::grin::