Disclaimer: All right, I admit it. I don't own this. ::bursts into tears::
A/N: What was *with* my formatting yesterday?! I was wiggin' out! Did you see it? Ugh! It was all in one clump. Well, thank goodness FF.N has stopped being all wonky, and it shows my formatting the way it's supposed to be.
Sorry I took so long with this chapter. My play opened on Thursday, and it runs pretty late, so I've been spending most of my time on that. Good news is: we put on a wicked awesome show last night. ::ticker-tape parade::
And here we go!
*********
Hermione burst through the door to the hospital wing, found the occupied bed, and stormed towards it. "Malfoy, what--" she began angrily. Then she paused in her speech for a millisecond, slowing because of the picture Malfoy made. Paler than usual, with red, puffy eyes, he seemed to have shrunk among the white sheets of his bed. He was wearing the hospital-wing issue pajamas, which were pale blue and flimsy, and as soon as the door crashed open he had clutched at a clump of his blanket as if it could protect him from her wrath. But then the split-second passed, and Hermione forged onward as if nothing had happened. "Malfoy, what is this?!" she demanded, enraged, brandishing the newspaper at him.
"A newspaper?" offered Draco, confused.
"Don't play dumb with me," said Hermione.
"I'm not!"
"You're telling me that you don't know what this is? I refuse to believe that," Hermione stated, eyes narrowing.
"Believe it or not, it's true," said Draco, getting a bit defensive. "Care to share?"
"Here," she almost spat, shoving the paper into his hands. "See if that doesn't refresh your memory."
Draco scanned through the beginning of the article, growing more and more puzzled. Brow creasing, his voice was calmer when he asked her, "But it's not true, is it?"
Hermione had been tapping her foot, waiting for him to finish. "Of course it's not true!" she burst out. "I would never do anything like that to--!" she cut herself off, looking at the floor, troubled. "I would *never* do anything like that," she looked back to him. His eyes were still directed at the newspaper.
"So if you know it's not true, then...?"
"Nobody will talk to me, all right? They believe it."
"Are you sure that's the only reason they're not talking to you?"
Malfoy spoke as if he was thinking through a complicated Arithmancy problem. "What?"
"Think about it," he said, moving his fingers across the paper as if he were doing a connect-the-dots. "You've just lost your two best friends," his eyes flickered to somewhere over her shoulder, then back to the paper. "They'll be treading on eggshells with you, out of concern, yes? And then...you'll be the only one with any experience," he reasoned slowly.
"Experience?"
"You've seen combat." Now his gaze was somewhere near his feet, and his chin was placed thoughtfully on his hand. "They haven't. *Their* parents all hid them away from the war, while you were right in the thick of it. You're a veteran. They'll be intimidated by that. And then this," he gestured to the paper awkwardly. "They probably don't know *what* to think about you."
Just like that he managed to figure out the whole problem. "What if you're wrong?" asked Hermione lamely, since she didn't think he was.
"Then I'm wrong...so what did I have to do with all this?" he asked, not rudely.
Anger came flooding back through Hermione. He may have figured out her problem quite calmly and rationally, but he still had some explaining to do. Snatching the paper out of his hands, Hermione pointed at the bottom of the article, putting in his face. "There. *That's* what you have to do with it."
There was a pause. "When was this published?"
"This summer. Why?" Now she grew more interested than incensed.
"I was...otherwise occupied at the time. I didn't even know my mother had gotten a job at the paper," he uttered disconsolately.
"Oh," said Hermione, sinking into the chair beside his bed, all ire gone. She couldn't very well blame him, then, could she? Unless--her eyes narrowed suspiciously--he was pulling another one of his infamous cruel tricks. But...no, he was merely staring at his hand on the blanket, looking bewildered and very sad. Still not looking in her direction. "Did you...what are you doing in the hospital wing, anyway?"
"Dumbledore said I could stay here." _For some privacy,_ he thought. _Didn't wind up getting that, did I? Oh, well..._
"You talked to Dumbledore?" asked Hermione curiously. _This early in the year?_ "What about?"
"Oh--you know--planning the holidays and things. Why we're sharing a dormitory," he covered. Didn't want her to know the *real* reason: he couldn't handle his emotional overload.
"Why *are* we sharing a dormitory?" Hermione was now feeling quite guilty for bursting in here full of accusations when her roommate--who had yet to do anything more callous to her this year than hold back from conversing--was apparently sick.
"He says he trusts us," Draco smiled lightly, amused. "Oh, he says we can go to Hogsmeade if we want to get supplies for the holiday parties. Says he expects 'great things' of us." He was still focused entirely on his blanket, not looking at her.
"Oh," said Hermione. _Well, don't I feel awful,_ she was thinking. _He went and got us information, and *gave* it to me, even though he's been so tight-lipped before. He didn't even *try* to use it against me. And he helped me with my problem. And he looks so sad...why won't he look at me?_ It was unnerving. Hermione was used to connecting to people while she spoke to them. She was a bit distraught because of this subtle refusal to make eye contact.
Meanwhile, Draco was involved in an internal debate. _I won't do it,_ said one part of him.
_Don't you want to be a good person?_ argued the other part. _Now's your chance!_
_But she hates me!_
_Probably 'cause you were such a bastard to her._
_Yeah, well..._ one side of him ceded to the point.
_So make it up to her!_
_How?!_
_Apologize, dimwit!_
_To *her*? But she's been nothing but rude to me!_
_And *you've* been nothing but rude to *her!*_
_True..._
_You're going to be living with her, you know._
_I still don't think this was what Dumbledore meant..._
_Fresh start?_ reminded one side of him.
'But I'm afraid these are problems I can't really help solve: you have to deal with them on your own,' Dumbledore had said, and wasn't he supposed to be the wizest wizard available, all told? Hell, Draco himself had said he couldn't continue to mope around...he was going to have to talk to somebody sometime. And here was a somebody sitting right by his bed.
_Fresh start,_ he thought to himself.
Lifting his eyes to Hermione's for the first time since she had walked in, Draco paused until she looked back into his before speaking. "I'm sorry," he said softly. Now that he wasn't trying to project, it was audible that his voice was hoarse from crying. The words scraped out of his throat. "I'm sorry for everything I've ever said or done to you," he said, and realized that he meant it.
Well, it was a start.
*********
Writing letters home once a week. What had her parents been *thinking*? It would detract time from her schoolwork, for God's sake! And besides that, she was *seventeen*! She hadn't been homesick since her first week in first year! She certainly wasn't a baby anymore...she had combat experience, like Malfoy had said...well, she *had* made a promise. Sighing, Hermione pushed her Potions homework to the other side of the couch and pulled out one of the sheets of stationary her parents had given her. Using a regular Muggle...what were they called again? Oh yes, pens. Using a regular Muggle pen, she began putting her first letter to paper.
~Dear Mom and Dad,
Everything's going all right here at school. Having a bit of trouble in Ancient Runes, but nothing I can't handle. I'm a bit lonely without Harry and Ron, though, and--~
_No, no, no,_ thought Hermione, crumpling that sheet of paper. _Don't let them think you can't handle it._ Besides, who was she kidding? She was a *lot* lonely without Harry and Ron, especially since, despite her revelation about the reasons behind their silence, everyone was still avoiding her. Another clean sheet of stationary was drawn out of her bag, and she started over.
~Dear Mom and Dad,
School is pretty much going as usual, even though--~
No, that wouldn't do. Wasn't the whole point of this exercise that they didn't know anything about her school anyway?
~Dear Mom and Dad,
Here's my schedule for this year:
Monday:
1st: Potions, with Professor Snape. He tends to--~
Ugh! That was too just-the-facts for her parents. They didn't expect a report on her schoolwork, they expected a letter from their daughter.
~Dear Mom and Dad,--~
Hermione sat in thought for awhile. When nothing came to her to write, she growled in frustration and scribbled out what she had written, crumpling this paper, too.
"What are you doing?" came a voice from the doorway. Hermione looked up. There was Malfoy, looking curious, but more importantly, less than hostile.
"My parents are making write home to them every week. They insist I use the Muggle post, too. It's stupid."
"That sucks," he agreed, moving to sit in the armchair nearest the window. "Do they remember how old you are?"
"No," she chuckled, surprised at herself. "And, apparently, the fact that I'm Head Girl means that I'm immature and irresponsible." He smiled lightly at her as he drew out his homework to work on. Hermione turned back to her letter, but didn't return to thinking about it yet.
It had been a few days ago when they'd had that little...moment...in the hospital wing. Since then, Hermione had been confused and anxious to the point where she was distracted from her schoolwork, which was most *certainly* not a good thing. After he'd apologized to her, she had made a slightly strangled noise in the back of her throat, and then made a rather hasty exit without another word. He'd apologized to her...
The look in his eyes had been enough to make Hermione prone to believe him. He had truly *seemed* sorry, for apparently the first time in his life...well, that wasn't true, she hadn't known him his whole *life.* He wasn't about to cry when he'd met her eyes, though it looked as though he might have been doing that earlier. No, he'd just been remarkably sincere and apologetic.
For the first day or so Hermione had thought it might have been one of his heartless pranks. But as time wore on, she thought about it, and it seemed less and less likely. For one thing, he'd helped her figure out her problem. That alone was enough to dissolve some of her resentment towards him. For another, he told her that he'd known nothing of his mother's article. And then he'd apologized...
And he hadn't *seemed* like he was lying. Hermione stole a glimpse of him in his armchair. He looked positively *docile,* just sitting there, scratching his quill across his parchment, looking up a word or two in his book.
So far he hadn't been cruel to her at *all.*
_Oh! I've been sitting here doing nothing,_ thought Hermione, picking up her pen again.
~Dear Mom and Dad,~ she wrote.
He'd apologized...and he hadn't asked for her forgiveness.
Hermione startled a little, and Malfoy looked up at her. She bent to scribble on her stationary.
~School's going okay. Been studying really hard--~ he looked down again, and Hermione breathed a very tiny sigh and stopped writing.
He *hadn't* asked her. Of *course* it wasn't some cruel joke--what had she been thinking? If it had been a joke, he would have *begged* her, played it up so he could tell his friends later about her reaction. But he'd just *told* her. And now, she realized, she'd gotten a little glimpse of what he was really like, how he really acted when he wasn't insulting her or her friends.
He'd shown her something of himself. Hermione glanced up at him again, and this time he glanced up, too. She quickly looked back at her paper.
~--and all my classes are really great. They're really challenging this year, 'cause of N.E.W.T.s. Have I told you about N.E.W.T.s? It stands for Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests. I already took my O.W.L.s, remember? I showed you the results.~
_I never thought I'd be thinking this, but...Malfoy's not so bad,_ thought Hermione, astonished. He'd been nothing but nice to her yet this year, and she'd been...well, pretty horrid to come into the hospital wing like that. It was almost as if he was trying for a...fresh start with her. _A fresh start. And he said he was sorry._
Once more she looked up at Malfoy, but this time she said, softly,
"I forgive you."
He looked up, shocked, and she turned, smiling, back to her stationary.
~Since I'm Head Girl I get a new roommate, and we get to work on a few special projects together. He's nice, I don't know if I told you about him before, his name is,~ Hermione wrote, ~Draco Malfoy.~ Resolving to find a way to put it in the Muggle Post tomorrow, she signed the letter "with love" and folded it up.
And for the next half-hour or so, Draco wore a tiny, watery smile.
*********
A/N: Well, there you have it. Mush. And *that's* the turning point in their relationship. Hurray! Feedback is begged for on bended knee.
A/N: What was *with* my formatting yesterday?! I was wiggin' out! Did you see it? Ugh! It was all in one clump. Well, thank goodness FF.N has stopped being all wonky, and it shows my formatting the way it's supposed to be.
Sorry I took so long with this chapter. My play opened on Thursday, and it runs pretty late, so I've been spending most of my time on that. Good news is: we put on a wicked awesome show last night. ::ticker-tape parade::
And here we go!
*********
Hermione burst through the door to the hospital wing, found the occupied bed, and stormed towards it. "Malfoy, what--" she began angrily. Then she paused in her speech for a millisecond, slowing because of the picture Malfoy made. Paler than usual, with red, puffy eyes, he seemed to have shrunk among the white sheets of his bed. He was wearing the hospital-wing issue pajamas, which were pale blue and flimsy, and as soon as the door crashed open he had clutched at a clump of his blanket as if it could protect him from her wrath. But then the split-second passed, and Hermione forged onward as if nothing had happened. "Malfoy, what is this?!" she demanded, enraged, brandishing the newspaper at him.
"A newspaper?" offered Draco, confused.
"Don't play dumb with me," said Hermione.
"I'm not!"
"You're telling me that you don't know what this is? I refuse to believe that," Hermione stated, eyes narrowing.
"Believe it or not, it's true," said Draco, getting a bit defensive. "Care to share?"
"Here," she almost spat, shoving the paper into his hands. "See if that doesn't refresh your memory."
Draco scanned through the beginning of the article, growing more and more puzzled. Brow creasing, his voice was calmer when he asked her, "But it's not true, is it?"
Hermione had been tapping her foot, waiting for him to finish. "Of course it's not true!" she burst out. "I would never do anything like that to--!" she cut herself off, looking at the floor, troubled. "I would *never* do anything like that," she looked back to him. His eyes were still directed at the newspaper.
"So if you know it's not true, then...?"
"Nobody will talk to me, all right? They believe it."
"Are you sure that's the only reason they're not talking to you?"
Malfoy spoke as if he was thinking through a complicated Arithmancy problem. "What?"
"Think about it," he said, moving his fingers across the paper as if he were doing a connect-the-dots. "You've just lost your two best friends," his eyes flickered to somewhere over her shoulder, then back to the paper. "They'll be treading on eggshells with you, out of concern, yes? And then...you'll be the only one with any experience," he reasoned slowly.
"Experience?"
"You've seen combat." Now his gaze was somewhere near his feet, and his chin was placed thoughtfully on his hand. "They haven't. *Their* parents all hid them away from the war, while you were right in the thick of it. You're a veteran. They'll be intimidated by that. And then this," he gestured to the paper awkwardly. "They probably don't know *what* to think about you."
Just like that he managed to figure out the whole problem. "What if you're wrong?" asked Hermione lamely, since she didn't think he was.
"Then I'm wrong...so what did I have to do with all this?" he asked, not rudely.
Anger came flooding back through Hermione. He may have figured out her problem quite calmly and rationally, but he still had some explaining to do. Snatching the paper out of his hands, Hermione pointed at the bottom of the article, putting in his face. "There. *That's* what you have to do with it."
There was a pause. "When was this published?"
"This summer. Why?" Now she grew more interested than incensed.
"I was...otherwise occupied at the time. I didn't even know my mother had gotten a job at the paper," he uttered disconsolately.
"Oh," said Hermione, sinking into the chair beside his bed, all ire gone. She couldn't very well blame him, then, could she? Unless--her eyes narrowed suspiciously--he was pulling another one of his infamous cruel tricks. But...no, he was merely staring at his hand on the blanket, looking bewildered and very sad. Still not looking in her direction. "Did you...what are you doing in the hospital wing, anyway?"
"Dumbledore said I could stay here." _For some privacy,_ he thought. _Didn't wind up getting that, did I? Oh, well..._
"You talked to Dumbledore?" asked Hermione curiously. _This early in the year?_ "What about?"
"Oh--you know--planning the holidays and things. Why we're sharing a dormitory," he covered. Didn't want her to know the *real* reason: he couldn't handle his emotional overload.
"Why *are* we sharing a dormitory?" Hermione was now feeling quite guilty for bursting in here full of accusations when her roommate--who had yet to do anything more callous to her this year than hold back from conversing--was apparently sick.
"He says he trusts us," Draco smiled lightly, amused. "Oh, he says we can go to Hogsmeade if we want to get supplies for the holiday parties. Says he expects 'great things' of us." He was still focused entirely on his blanket, not looking at her.
"Oh," said Hermione. _Well, don't I feel awful,_ she was thinking. _He went and got us information, and *gave* it to me, even though he's been so tight-lipped before. He didn't even *try* to use it against me. And he helped me with my problem. And he looks so sad...why won't he look at me?_ It was unnerving. Hermione was used to connecting to people while she spoke to them. She was a bit distraught because of this subtle refusal to make eye contact.
Meanwhile, Draco was involved in an internal debate. _I won't do it,_ said one part of him.
_Don't you want to be a good person?_ argued the other part. _Now's your chance!_
_But she hates me!_
_Probably 'cause you were such a bastard to her._
_Yeah, well..._ one side of him ceded to the point.
_So make it up to her!_
_How?!_
_Apologize, dimwit!_
_To *her*? But she's been nothing but rude to me!_
_And *you've* been nothing but rude to *her!*_
_True..._
_You're going to be living with her, you know._
_I still don't think this was what Dumbledore meant..._
_Fresh start?_ reminded one side of him.
'But I'm afraid these are problems I can't really help solve: you have to deal with them on your own,' Dumbledore had said, and wasn't he supposed to be the wizest wizard available, all told? Hell, Draco himself had said he couldn't continue to mope around...he was going to have to talk to somebody sometime. And here was a somebody sitting right by his bed.
_Fresh start,_ he thought to himself.
Lifting his eyes to Hermione's for the first time since she had walked in, Draco paused until she looked back into his before speaking. "I'm sorry," he said softly. Now that he wasn't trying to project, it was audible that his voice was hoarse from crying. The words scraped out of his throat. "I'm sorry for everything I've ever said or done to you," he said, and realized that he meant it.
Well, it was a start.
*********
Writing letters home once a week. What had her parents been *thinking*? It would detract time from her schoolwork, for God's sake! And besides that, she was *seventeen*! She hadn't been homesick since her first week in first year! She certainly wasn't a baby anymore...she had combat experience, like Malfoy had said...well, she *had* made a promise. Sighing, Hermione pushed her Potions homework to the other side of the couch and pulled out one of the sheets of stationary her parents had given her. Using a regular Muggle...what were they called again? Oh yes, pens. Using a regular Muggle pen, she began putting her first letter to paper.
~Dear Mom and Dad,
Everything's going all right here at school. Having a bit of trouble in Ancient Runes, but nothing I can't handle. I'm a bit lonely without Harry and Ron, though, and--~
_No, no, no,_ thought Hermione, crumpling that sheet of paper. _Don't let them think you can't handle it._ Besides, who was she kidding? She was a *lot* lonely without Harry and Ron, especially since, despite her revelation about the reasons behind their silence, everyone was still avoiding her. Another clean sheet of stationary was drawn out of her bag, and she started over.
~Dear Mom and Dad,
School is pretty much going as usual, even though--~
No, that wouldn't do. Wasn't the whole point of this exercise that they didn't know anything about her school anyway?
~Dear Mom and Dad,
Here's my schedule for this year:
Monday:
1st: Potions, with Professor Snape. He tends to--~
Ugh! That was too just-the-facts for her parents. They didn't expect a report on her schoolwork, they expected a letter from their daughter.
~Dear Mom and Dad,--~
Hermione sat in thought for awhile. When nothing came to her to write, she growled in frustration and scribbled out what she had written, crumpling this paper, too.
"What are you doing?" came a voice from the doorway. Hermione looked up. There was Malfoy, looking curious, but more importantly, less than hostile.
"My parents are making write home to them every week. They insist I use the Muggle post, too. It's stupid."
"That sucks," he agreed, moving to sit in the armchair nearest the window. "Do they remember how old you are?"
"No," she chuckled, surprised at herself. "And, apparently, the fact that I'm Head Girl means that I'm immature and irresponsible." He smiled lightly at her as he drew out his homework to work on. Hermione turned back to her letter, but didn't return to thinking about it yet.
It had been a few days ago when they'd had that little...moment...in the hospital wing. Since then, Hermione had been confused and anxious to the point where she was distracted from her schoolwork, which was most *certainly* not a good thing. After he'd apologized to her, she had made a slightly strangled noise in the back of her throat, and then made a rather hasty exit without another word. He'd apologized to her...
The look in his eyes had been enough to make Hermione prone to believe him. He had truly *seemed* sorry, for apparently the first time in his life...well, that wasn't true, she hadn't known him his whole *life.* He wasn't about to cry when he'd met her eyes, though it looked as though he might have been doing that earlier. No, he'd just been remarkably sincere and apologetic.
For the first day or so Hermione had thought it might have been one of his heartless pranks. But as time wore on, she thought about it, and it seemed less and less likely. For one thing, he'd helped her figure out her problem. That alone was enough to dissolve some of her resentment towards him. For another, he told her that he'd known nothing of his mother's article. And then he'd apologized...
And he hadn't *seemed* like he was lying. Hermione stole a glimpse of him in his armchair. He looked positively *docile,* just sitting there, scratching his quill across his parchment, looking up a word or two in his book.
So far he hadn't been cruel to her at *all.*
_Oh! I've been sitting here doing nothing,_ thought Hermione, picking up her pen again.
~Dear Mom and Dad,~ she wrote.
He'd apologized...and he hadn't asked for her forgiveness.
Hermione startled a little, and Malfoy looked up at her. She bent to scribble on her stationary.
~School's going okay. Been studying really hard--~ he looked down again, and Hermione breathed a very tiny sigh and stopped writing.
He *hadn't* asked her. Of *course* it wasn't some cruel joke--what had she been thinking? If it had been a joke, he would have *begged* her, played it up so he could tell his friends later about her reaction. But he'd just *told* her. And now, she realized, she'd gotten a little glimpse of what he was really like, how he really acted when he wasn't insulting her or her friends.
He'd shown her something of himself. Hermione glanced up at him again, and this time he glanced up, too. She quickly looked back at her paper.
~--and all my classes are really great. They're really challenging this year, 'cause of N.E.W.T.s. Have I told you about N.E.W.T.s? It stands for Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests. I already took my O.W.L.s, remember? I showed you the results.~
_I never thought I'd be thinking this, but...Malfoy's not so bad,_ thought Hermione, astonished. He'd been nothing but nice to her yet this year, and she'd been...well, pretty horrid to come into the hospital wing like that. It was almost as if he was trying for a...fresh start with her. _A fresh start. And he said he was sorry._
Once more she looked up at Malfoy, but this time she said, softly,
"I forgive you."
He looked up, shocked, and she turned, smiling, back to her stationary.
~Since I'm Head Girl I get a new roommate, and we get to work on a few special projects together. He's nice, I don't know if I told you about him before, his name is,~ Hermione wrote, ~Draco Malfoy.~ Resolving to find a way to put it in the Muggle Post tomorrow, she signed the letter "with love" and folded it up.
And for the next half-hour or so, Draco wore a tiny, watery smile.
*********
A/N: Well, there you have it. Mush. And *that's* the turning point in their relationship. Hurray! Feedback is begged for on bended knee.