Magnanimous Chapter 13 – Conversing

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A/N: Firstly, apologies for the one-day lateness. I have a valid excuse; my internet died.

Onto other news: I have a new 'one-shot' up. I say one-shot; it's almost half the length of Magnanimous! It's called 'Journals', is D/Hr, and won first place in the contest on my friend's forum. Go read, because I absolutely adore it.

Thanks also go to my betas, who made this much less awful that it would have been otherwise. To Simrun of the alarm bells, Sophie of the tucking-hair-behind-ears, and Orchid of the worshipful improvement of pretty much everything, I offer huggles and much chocolate.

Oh, and someone asked how many more chapters there would be. The answer is, I'm not entirely sure, though not many. I'm aiming for fifteen.

That said; read and enjoy.

~*~

'And that's pretty much all that happened,' Hermione finished lamely.

She and Draco were in Dumbledore's office, sitting on two comfortable plush armchairs that Dumbledore had conjured for them. Hermione had done most of the talking, Draco only interrupting to add the occasional detail.

Hermione had described why and how they'd decided to go, artfully glossing over the fact that they'd freed Professor Snape's Runespoor. She'd mentioned Harry and Ron's argument, but not gone into detail on it. Then she'd gone on to say how it had been Draco who gave them the instructions and directions – Draco had stayed determinedly silent at this point – and then she'd given a brief account of how they'd all been split up in the sandstorm.

Now, the office fell into an uncomfortable silence, and Hermione squirmed uneasily on her chair. The portraits hung on the walls began to disconcert her; most of them were pretending to sleep, peering at them through slitted eyes, and it made her nervous.

Dumbledore spoke, breaking the silence in his usual serene manner, addressing Hermione. 'Thank you for your account,' he said thoughtfully. He paused, and then turned to Draco. 'Forgive me if I act for a moment like a nosy, prying old man,' he asked, folding his hands and looking seriously at Draco over the top of his glasses, 'but I must ask: what exactly was it that prompted you to take part in this expedition?'

Hermione took a sharp breath, slanting a nervous glance at Draco. She knew the answer, of course – Ceros - but Draco would never tell someone like Dumbledore… What would he do? What would he say?

Draco shrugged elegantly. 'Personal reasons,' he said indifferently, and to Hermione's relief Dumbledore did not press further.

'Very well.' Dumbledore replied, his eyes still fixed on Draco. 'Is there anything more you've not said, or anything you need to ask?'

Draco shook his head, but Hermione spoke up. 'I have a question…' she said slowly. 'It's to do with… Harry survived turning the Aculux curse off, didn't he? But one of the Death Eaters said that only the person who set the curse up could stop it without dying. So… how did Harry survive?'

'Are you sure he was telling the truth?' Dumbledore asked. 'It's documented that people do die from stopping the curse, but not why they die. He could have been lying.'

'It sounded like truth to me,' Draco threw into the conversation. 'And I can usually tell truth from lies, he added, smirking a little at his expertise.'

Dumbledore frowned at this, and appeared for a long moment to be thinking. At length he asked, 'It was Voldemort who set the curse up, was it not?'

'I'm fairly sure it was,' confirmed Hermione.

A further pause. 'Interesting. Very interesting,' Dumbledore said slowly, before brightening up. 'And now, I think you both should go and get some sleep in a proper bed. May I suggest you return to your respective dormitories?'

They nodded – Hermione felt quite happy at the prospect of a proper bed – and stood up to leave. As they turned to the door, Dumbledore spoke again. 'One more thing, if I may…'

He looked at them, his eyes still serious but now with a hint of glitter in them, and a slight smile on his face. 'Inter-house relationships are renowned for being unusually difficult,' he told them, 'so allow me to wish you both the best of luck. Now, goodnight to you both.'

They mumbled their goodnights – Hermione blushing bright red, Draco looking mildly amused – and left the Headmaster's office. They didn't speak, initially, as they descended the spiral staircase to the corridor, but when they reached the bottom of the stairs, Draco spoke.

'I was trying to think of something to compare the colour of your face to,' he said thoughtfully, 'but I can't think of anything red enough.'

Hermione gave him a look, walking onto the corridor. 'I'm not that red.'

'Yes you are.'

'I'm not… Look, even if I am, I'm not getting into a childish argument about it, alright?' she snapped defensively, raising a hand to her cheek as if to shield it.

Draco paused for a moment, then laughed, a real, chuckling laugh. 'Fine, fine. But that doesn't change the fact that you've still gone completely crimson.' The gargoyle slid into place behind him, and he leant casually against it, raising an eyebrow.

Hermione shrugged and didn't answer, crossing her arms and looking almost uncomfortable. She was standing in the middle of the corridor, looking somehow fragile and delicate, as though the next breath of wind would blow her away. Draco frowned, but had only taken one step towards her when she spoke.

'Draco… I mean, what Dumbledore said… about us. And… inter-house relationships. What I mean is… well, is it?'

Draco frowned. 'Hermione you aren't making any sense,' he pointed out gently. 'What is 'it', and what are you asking about it?'

'I mean… us. You and me. Is it…'

'An inter-house relationship, as Dumbledore put it?'

Hermione nodded, her face still bright red, and Draco felt the corner of his mouth tug into a small smile. He crossed to her, then, and stood in front of her in the middle of the darkening corridor. Hermione met his eyes, and timidly looked away, the movement of her head causing a strand of hair to fall in front of her face. He brushed it back, tucking it behind her ear, and she shivered.

'I don't know,' he said simply. 'I do want to see you again, though. I want to find out.'

Hermione nodded. 'I guess I do too, it's just…' She looked upwards, finally meeting his gaze; Draco could pick out both hope and fear. 'It's all happened so quickly…'

Draco grinned, and then nodded seriously, 'I know it has. So lets… lets do something together tomorrow. Go for a walk outside. It looks like the weather should be good, if a little cold.' He shut his mouth, feeling a rather unfamiliar mixture of foolishness and vulnerability settle over him. He stared at Hermione; suddenly very aware of the time it took her to answer him, and felt a swoop of relief when he saw her face light up.

'Alright,' Hermione agreed, smiling. 'What time? I still have that transfiguration essay to do for McGonagall…'

'I don't think any of our teachers are really going to mind about late work,' Draco pointed out with a grin. He noticed a disapproving look flash into her eyes, something he imagined her wearing when Potter and Weasley weren't doing their homework, and laughed inwardly. 'But lets say the afternoon, to be safe. Meet me in the Entrance Hall at four?'

She nodded her agreement, and turned to leave for the Gryffindor Tower. Before she could move, however, Draco had planted the barest whisper of a kiss on her cheek, murmured a 'Goodnight,' and walked away, leaving her alone in the corridor. Turning, she was just in time to see him begin descending a flight of stairs. Touching a finger to the place he had kissed her, she watched after him for a moment, then turned and left.

~*~

Ron looked up to see Madam Pomfrey bustle over from dealing with an unfortunate sixth year that had been hit with a Reduction Hex. He'd been hoping she'd come over for quite some time; after a good meal, some potions and a lot of sleep, he'd woken up this morning feeling absolutely fine, and had been wanting to leave ever since.

'So, Mr Weasley, how are you feeling now?' she asked, beaming brightly at him. 'Did you drink all those potions?'

'Yes,' he sighed, screwing his face up as he remembered the taste. 'All of them.'

'Good, good. Any aches and pains?' she asked, pulling out her wand and muttering a few spells, presumably to check on his well-being.

'No, none.'

She nodded, muttered a few more spells, then finally put the wand away. 'Very well then, Mr. Weasley, you seem fine. It's about an hour before lunchtime. Miss Granger should be in the Gryffindor dormitories; she tried to come and see you earlier, but of course visits are banned till most of these poor people are better, I really can't be having with the entire school trying to see their friends…'

She rambled on, but Ron paid no attention, too glad to be finally getting out of the Hospital Wing. He was already dressed – the house elves had brought some of his own clothes from his room that morning – and so Madam Pomfrey could fuss him out of the room with great speed.

As he walked towards the exit, he passed the bed where he'd seen Dumbledore place Harry – was it only the night before? It seemed like an eternity ago. The curtains were drawn. Ron paused, and would have asked Madam Pomfrey how Harry was, but she had already turned to treat a Ravenclaw who appeared to have lost the power of speech.

Still, Ron thought as he closed the Hospital Wing door behind him and began the long trek back to Gryffindor Tower, he did wish the curtains had been open, just a tiny bit, so he could have seen if Harry was alright… Dumbledore had been to him that morning, for his account of the events. Ron had given him everything truthfully, except for the story of Bellatrix and Harry's frightening insanity. These he had left out of his tale completely; Dumbledore didn't appear to have noticed anything.

He didn't want to tell anyone about it, Ron realised; not even Hermione. Harry's actions had scared him deeply, and he didn't want to share them. Plus, Harry probably wouldn't want him to tell anyone either. Ron had seen how Harry had reacted, after he'd regained his sanity, and he knew not to share that story with anyone else.

So he was decided; he wouldn't tell Hermione. And of course, thinking of his other friend brought another occurrence to mind, and Ron scowled as he started trekking up a flight of stairs.

Malfoy. He'd seen how he was acting with her, how she was acting with him, and it has looked suspiciously as though they were… Of course, it was a ridiculous notion: Hermione loving Malfoy, Malfoy loving Hermione. Impossible. But it had seemed that way, from their actions… Hermione might hug himself and Harry, on occasion, and that was perfectly normal. But for her to be lying in someone's arms… That rang alarm bells in Ron's mind.

She couldn't be doing it of her own free will. Who would ever love a Malfoy of their own free will? Draco Malfoy, the filthy, insulting, hateful, bigoted, Death-Eater-to-be – although, if he were to become a Death Eater, why had he helped them? – was completely unlovable.

Madam Pomfrey had said that Hermione should be in the Gryffindor Tower; he would talk to her and find out. If she was under some sort of spell, it should be fairly obvious, shouldn't it? And if she weren't… she could give him a decent explanation.

This decided, he climbed the final flight of stairs, gave the password to the Fat Lady, and entered the Common Room. It was exactly as it always was, and he felt a warm surge of familiarity. The crimson and gold decoration was as warm and welcoming as ever; he could even see a fire crackling in the fireplace. Even the chatter was the same; same people, sitting in the same groups, talking and laughing and having fun. It made Ron feel, in a very real way, that the adventure was over and he had returned home.

He stepped inside, letting the portrait hole swing shut behind him, and wound his way through the crowds, looking for Hermione. His progress was hampered by his fellow Gryffindors, who continually stared in wonder at him – they'd heard the stories – and approached to ask questions: what happened, how did you stop the spell, was You-Know-Who there, did you fight him, did you fight Death Eaters, where's Harry, is he alright?

Ron answered them all as quickly as he could, not really paying attention to any of the questioners, scanning the room for Hermione. Eventually, he spotted her, sitting in one corner, doing work as usual. The sight made him smile; only Hermione Granger would be doing schoolwork the day after getting back from Voldemort's prison.

He pushed his way through the people, making his way slowly to her corner. She looked up as he approached, and smiled widely, obviously delighted to see him. 

'Ron! Oh, I'm so glad you're out of the Hospital Wing; I was worried there was something wrong… Are you alright? Is Harry still okay?'

'I'm fine,' he said firmly, 'and I expect Harry is too; Madam Pomfrey didn't tell me, and she'd have told me if anything was wrong.'

'Oh, that's good, I was really worried. I wanted to visit you both, but Madam Pomfrey won't let anyone in… Will you tell me what happened with Harry now? There've been the most ridiculous rumours; someone said you were fighting a Manticore, of all things…'

'We weren't,' Ron told her. 'But before I tell you anything, I want an explanation.'

'What? Oh…' she said, realising. 'About me and… Draco…' Her cheeks tinged slightly red. Ron frowned.

'Malfoy. His name is Malfoy.'

Hermione looked down and bit her lip. 'I'd prefer to call him Draco…'

'That's completely…' he searched for an appropriate word, 'unnatural,' he said finally, 'and weird,' he added for good measure. Hermione didn't answer. Ron shook his head, sighed, and sat down beside her. 'Does he have you under some kind of Dark spell? The Imperious?'

Hermione snorted. 'Don't be ridiculous, no one in our year could use any of the Unforgivables…'

Ron flinched at that; only slightly, so that she didn't notice, but the irony in her words was too much. Harry, after all, had used one of the Unforgivables… Perhaps he should tell her? But no, no, he shouldn't do that… 'Wouldn't put it past him…' Ron muttered lamely, trying to return to the conversation. He went back to the original subject. 'How do I know you aren't under a spell?'

'Am I acting like I'm under a spell?' Hermione sighed. 'You can't tell, basically. You just have to trust me, Ron. I'm not under a spell.'

Ron looked at her, searching her face for any sign that she was lying. She wasn't. She looked honest and open and truthful; worried and perhaps a little guilty. He searched far longer than he should have, not willing to admit the other alternative, the possibility that…

He sighed, putting his head in his hands. 'This is so screwed up.'

She didn't contradict him, but remained silent for a time. 'Ron,' she said at last, 'I know this is a little… strange. But I do think that I… I like him, at least, as a friend if nothing else. I found out a lot about him in that dungeon. I know we weren't there for long, but I did see another side of him. And I like the person he is when he's not being mean to us, when he's not putting up that act, because it was an act, all those times he was horrible.' She paused, and when she continued her voice was even quieter than before. 'Can you try to forget about them?'

'It's not exactly easy, you know,' Ron said irritably. Malfoy had been his enemy for so long that he couldn't very well forget it all in an instant.  The endless taunts at his family, his home, his money, his friends, plus the daily 'Weasel' comments... they were rather hard to forget. Odd, wasn't it, how forgiveness worked? He could easily forgive a hideous Dark spell from one of his best friends, but not a handful of petty insults from an enemy. Hermione obviously could forgive those insults. And she was a smart witch; he should have faith in her judgement, and if she asked him to give Malfoy a second chance…

'I'll try,' he offered grudgingly, and Hermione beamed. 'But I'm not promising anything, alright?'

'Alright,' she grinned. 'And thanks.'

Ron grumbled and fidgeted a bit. 'Hermione,' he asked at last, 'you never said whether you…'

'Whether I what?'

'You know.' He looked up at her. 'You were all cuddled up together when I came in…'

'Oh! Whether I…?'She blushed a little. 'I don't really know… I mean, we kissed a few times…'

'You kissed him?' Ron asked incredulously, loud enough to draw considerable attention from the surrounding room. Hermione glared at him. 'Sorry,' he said, looking abashed.

When people's attentions had moved away, Hermione replied. 'Yes I did. And there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. I wanted to, he wanted to, it was completely mutual and if anyone tries to…'

'Calm down, calm down.' Ron cut her off hastily. 'I didn't mean anything; you just took me by surprise. I mean…'

He broke off there, conscious of her glare. After a pause, Hermione spoke.

'Well, I kissed him. But I'm not sure how I feel… I mean, I do like him, a lot, but it's only been a few days… It all seems so sudden.'

Ron sighed inwardly. Hermione looked downcast, and he realised that this was where he should say something inspirational and supportive to cheer her up. The only thing was, he really didn't want her within a mile of that Slytherin git…

He swallowed his hatred for Malfoy and mustered what he hoped was a supportive smile. 'Hermione,' he told her, 'just follow your heart. Do what you think is right. You know I'll stand by you no matter what.' It was the kind of thing they said in books; completely trite and ridiculous, but it made Hermione smile.

'Thanks.' She said, and gave him a quick short hug that took him by surprise. 'I'm glad you feel that way… But you still haven't told me what happened to you and Harry.'

Sighing, Ron began the exact same story he'd told Dumbledore, again omitting the part where Harry had gone insane. It was harder, this time, to miss it out; he felt he should tell Hermione everything. Only the memory of Harry's painful guilt kept him from telling her, the echo of the last words he'd said: I'm the one who deserves to die more.

He told Hermione everything else, and then answered her numerous questions until it was time for lunch.

~*~

Draco nervously climbed the stairs from the Slytherin dungeons to find Hermione already waiting for him in the Entrance Hall, wrapped in a thick winter cloak, scarf and gloves. He smiled to see her, and crossed to her side.

'How are you?' was the first thing he asked. She looked up, startled from her thoughts by his voice.

'Oh, I'm fine,' she replied. 'Still a little worried about Harry, though. And you?'

'I'm fine as well,' he assured her, and then there seemed to be nothing more to say. They turned, walking side by side, and headed for the grounds.

It was a cold day; they could feel the ice in the air, and Draco wondered how long they had before the first frosts coated the ground with white. The trees were already bare, and when the ice-laden wind blew, it whistled and clattered its way through their branches. Winter was fast approaching.

They walked in near silence, talking about nothing in particular. School, mostly, and lessons, and things they'd read in books. It annoyed Draco somewhat; they were meant to be talking about… other things. What they felt. What they were going to do about it…

They came, at length, to a place that was perfect for taking a rest in. It was bounded by trees on three sides, and the lake on the fourth, and in the centre was a collection of rocks that made a perfect seating place.

'How about a rest?' Draco suggested, although he wasn't tired. It might be easier, sitting down together, to bring the topic up. Especially in this clearing; it was idyllic, the stuff of Christmas cards, but for the lack of snow.

He sat down next to her, on the smoothest of the rocks. Something caught his eye: initials, scratched into the rock. LW, a heart, and then TM. Somehow it gave him determination, that this was a place where these things had happened before. Where they could happen again.

'Have you done the Transfiguration essay?' Hermione asked, breaking the silence. 'I started it, but then Ron came along and started talking. I only have a little more to do though…'

Draco cut her off. 'We both know we aren't here to talk about schoolwork.'

She sighed; just a small sigh, and gave him a weak smile. 'It made me feel less nervous to talk about it, though.'

'Don't be nervous,' he said vaguely, playing with a fold of his cloak. 'Don't be.'

'It's hard not to.'

'Perhaps…' Another pause; long and heavy with the things that needed to be said. This time, it was Hermione that spoke.

'It's just… It's only been a few days. Days! I know we spent a lot of time – all the time – together, and I found out a lot about you, but… I don't know, it just seems so sudden.'

'Does it?' he asked, turning his silver eyes towards her. 'I feel as though it's been forever.' And it did; the time they'd spent together in the dungeon stretched out on his mind, as if every day were a year.

She nodded, looking down. 'I just… Draco, I do care about you, and I do like you, and I… drat, I don't know what I feel. I don't know whether to trust myself. I don't even know what I'd do if I did trust myself. It's all so…'

'Confused?'

She nodded, and Draco paused before speaking. 'Only you can know what you want. But I… I know what I feel, and I know what I want. I don't understand why I want it, but still…'

She didn't look up to meet his gaze, but instead she closed her own eyes, her forehead creased as though she was trying to work something out. He waited for her, patiently, hopefully, fearfully, because he knew that she was deciding what she felt. Every heartbeat lasted a year, every breath a century, time itself crystallizing into raindrops that clung to bare branches.

And then her eyes opened, and met his, and before she even spoke he had his answer.

'I want… I want to try it. Try being…' She didn't say the words, but he knew them, and his heart soared strangely, something he'd never felt before. 'I feel like I've known you forever, even though it's just been a few days. The real you, I mean. And I feel like I've fallen in…'

Their eyes met; she never finished the sentence. Before, time had stopped; now it ended, so that there would be no more days or nights, no more years or minutes, decades or seconds. Only the endless, infinite now, reforming itself constantly to keep from slipping into the past, the now where their eyes met and nothing else mattered but that.

'What do you feel?' The question was whispered, almost silent; Draco knew the answer.

'This.'

Their lips met once more; this time gentle, soft as snow on a rose petal, or dew on the grass. Time flooded back with a rush as they wrapped their arms around each other – she shivered – and kissed as though the world would end; warm together even as the icy wind blew around them, and the first few drops of rain began to fall.

~*~

A/N:  I must say I like that final paragraph… but that's of no importance. What is important is what YOU thought of it all, so send in those reviews!