Disclaimer: See first chapter.
"Tension is building inside steadily, (Everyone feels so far away from me), heavy thoughts forcing their way out of me, (Trying not to break but I'm so tired of this deceit), (Every time I try to make myself get back up on my feet), (All I ever think about is this), (All the tiring time between), (And how trying to put my trust in you just takes so much out of me)"
"Well, I think that's the last of that!" Draco sighs loudly as he shuts his folder. Today is the last day of classes before Winter Holiday, and we have just finished planning the last few details of the Winter Ball menu. The house elves will have their hands full.
Sigh.
Ron looked so agitated during our last class (Potions, of all things), that I thought he might explode. He ran outside after dropping his bag, and proceeded to chuck a rather large snowball at me. Well, I wasn't going to leave at that, was I?
It only ended with Ron's begging for mercy. Not that he'd tell you that, though.
"Are you sorry you'll be missing the ball? It seems funny that after all our work, we'll both miss it," I question as I sit on my couch, "Where will you be going, anyway?"
He's seated on his couch, across from mine. His expression darkens as he looks away. "Nowhere. Anywhere but home I suppose."
Before I can reply, there is a familiar tapping on the window. I get up to open it, and Draco turns towards the fire. My owl that I received for my sixteenth birthday, Cytheria, and his eagle owl fly in.
The writing on the scroll Cytheria carries makes my heart skip. Harry! I turn away to go to my dormitory when I'm distracted by a violent movement from Draco.
He has ripped his letter in half, and is feeding it to the fire. I can't read his expression.
"Draco?" Probably the use of his first name makes him look up.
"If I start to trust you, do you think you can trust me?" he questions, almost menacingly.
I don't reply. All I'm thinking is, What the heck just happened?
"Do you, Granger?"
"Yes," I blurt, "Yes."
He looks back to the fire, and then puts his head in his hands. I go to sit next to him. "Malfoy, what happened?"
"It's Draco," he says, looking up, "and it's a bit of a story. Are you prepared?"
"Fine, but if I call you Draco, you've got to call me Hermione."
"Such a mouth-full!" he jokes before his expression grows stormy again.
"My mother is expected a child. I should be gleeful, but I cant help feeling guilty."
"Why?"
"Beacause this removes my responsibility to take my position in the Dark Lord's circle. I don't have to be a Death Eater! I don't have to be my father!" His laugh is strangled, as if he's trying not to cry, "But this kid gets those responsibilities. My little sister or brother. They'll get what I went through."
He pauses.
"Well, at least now I won't be expected home for Christmas. Or ever again."
I'm truly speechless, for once in my life. Wouldn't you be?
"So...You never wanted to be the next Dark Lord?" I carefully ask.
He laughs weakly. "I don't know, Granger. Hermione. I'm so tired."
I don't know if he means tired of his life or if he's sleepy. I move anyway so he can lie down, but sit close to his couch.
He stares at the fire, and I stare at Draco.
With some caution, I look at his face. He does look tired, like he hasn't really slept in a few years. He knows what he has been through. His hair is so blonde it's almost white, and I admire the way it falls over his cheek. He's much more handsome than his father, much more attractive than his mother. His eye's aren't the pure grey I thought them to be, but have a little dark blue in them. All the emotions swirling in them remind me of Harry's eyes. Then I remember the letter in my hand.
Before I stop to think about it, I blurt out, "Come home with me for the holidays, Draco."
Maybe it was my desire for Harry to be home. Maybe I wanted to help him. I start to regret my offer when Draco looks up but doesn't say anything.
I'm about to smile and say something like, "Just kidding!", when he answers.
"Okay, Hermione."
Oh, Lord.
"Tension is building inside steadily, (Everyone feels so far away from me), heavy thoughts forcing their way out of me, (Trying not to break but I'm so tired of this deceit), (Every time I try to make myself get back up on my feet), (All I ever think about is this), (All the tiring time between), (And how trying to put my trust in you just takes so much out of me)"
"Well, I think that's the last of that!" Draco sighs loudly as he shuts his folder. Today is the last day of classes before Winter Holiday, and we have just finished planning the last few details of the Winter Ball menu. The house elves will have their hands full.
Sigh.
Ron looked so agitated during our last class (Potions, of all things), that I thought he might explode. He ran outside after dropping his bag, and proceeded to chuck a rather large snowball at me. Well, I wasn't going to leave at that, was I?
It only ended with Ron's begging for mercy. Not that he'd tell you that, though.
"Are you sorry you'll be missing the ball? It seems funny that after all our work, we'll both miss it," I question as I sit on my couch, "Where will you be going, anyway?"
He's seated on his couch, across from mine. His expression darkens as he looks away. "Nowhere. Anywhere but home I suppose."
Before I can reply, there is a familiar tapping on the window. I get up to open it, and Draco turns towards the fire. My owl that I received for my sixteenth birthday, Cytheria, and his eagle owl fly in.
The writing on the scroll Cytheria carries makes my heart skip. Harry! I turn away to go to my dormitory when I'm distracted by a violent movement from Draco.
He has ripped his letter in half, and is feeding it to the fire. I can't read his expression.
"Draco?" Probably the use of his first name makes him look up.
"If I start to trust you, do you think you can trust me?" he questions, almost menacingly.
I don't reply. All I'm thinking is, What the heck just happened?
"Do you, Granger?"
"Yes," I blurt, "Yes."
He looks back to the fire, and then puts his head in his hands. I go to sit next to him. "Malfoy, what happened?"
"It's Draco," he says, looking up, "and it's a bit of a story. Are you prepared?"
"Fine, but if I call you Draco, you've got to call me Hermione."
"Such a mouth-full!" he jokes before his expression grows stormy again.
"My mother is expected a child. I should be gleeful, but I cant help feeling guilty."
"Why?"
"Beacause this removes my responsibility to take my position in the Dark Lord's circle. I don't have to be a Death Eater! I don't have to be my father!" His laugh is strangled, as if he's trying not to cry, "But this kid gets those responsibilities. My little sister or brother. They'll get what I went through."
He pauses.
"Well, at least now I won't be expected home for Christmas. Or ever again."
I'm truly speechless, for once in my life. Wouldn't you be?
"So...You never wanted to be the next Dark Lord?" I carefully ask.
He laughs weakly. "I don't know, Granger. Hermione. I'm so tired."
I don't know if he means tired of his life or if he's sleepy. I move anyway so he can lie down, but sit close to his couch.
He stares at the fire, and I stare at Draco.
With some caution, I look at his face. He does look tired, like he hasn't really slept in a few years. He knows what he has been through. His hair is so blonde it's almost white, and I admire the way it falls over his cheek. He's much more handsome than his father, much more attractive than his mother. His eye's aren't the pure grey I thought them to be, but have a little dark blue in them. All the emotions swirling in them remind me of Harry's eyes. Then I remember the letter in my hand.
Before I stop to think about it, I blurt out, "Come home with me for the holidays, Draco."
Maybe it was my desire for Harry to be home. Maybe I wanted to help him. I start to regret my offer when Draco looks up but doesn't say anything.
I'm about to smile and say something like, "Just kidding!", when he answers.
"Okay, Hermione."
Oh, Lord.