Silver Eyes ( restless Sleep)
By tearsofher
Disclaimer: Don't own hermione or Draco. but sweet ol' Nickolas, I do.. Nasty little prick, isn't he? (I own the lovely plot too..)
Chapter Seven: Detention and the Pretty Girl
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Draco made his way to the Hospital Wing, where he would be serving detention for the night. He had tried to hide the happiness on his face when Professor Snape had told him, glaring at him like a madman. Professor McGonagall had left their punishments to Snape, for they were both in Slytherin, and she was awfully hungry. Draco caught himself almost chuckling at the look on her face as she hurried out of the room. Draco was happy that he was to serve detention in the infirmary; Hermione was to stay there the whole week, as he heard from Potter's and Weasley's conversation in the hallway. Perhaps this would give him the time to apologize to her again.. Or just watch her, look into her eyes, that would surely be enough. Although he hadn't gotten very much sleep last night, as always, he couldn't help but feel the tiredness he felt all day but kept hidden, leave him as he approached the Hospital wing's doors. He felt somewhat ridiculously giddy, which was unfamiliar to any Malfoy. But Draco recognized the feeling; he remembered it from Hermione's and his meetings in the library. He felt the same fluttery feeling in his stomach, his heart pounding in his ears. It was rather annoying, really.
He walked into the hospital wing, and almost instantly he felt his gaze fall upon the pretty Gryffindor girl, who hadn't realized that he had walked in. He felt himself smile; she was biting her lip, completely absorbed in the book, which was quite thick, mind you. He was just glad- gladder than he had ever been, with the exception of his father being sent to St. Mungo's- when he had found out she was already awake. But he couldn't visit her, no. Madame Pomphrey was already suspicious, and he didn't need any nasty rumors to greet Hermione when she woke. About him, especially. Well, there were already some things being spread around about Gottery's and his fight.. All revolving around Hermione. He just hoped she hadn't heard of the fight, or any of the rumors. He didn't know what she'd say, even though he had spent almost all his time observing her. He walked slowly, casually to Madame Pomphrey's office, and he saw Hermione's gaze meet his, surprise overshadowing the sadness in her eyes. Then he looked away, and entered the office.
Madame Pomphrey had given him precise instructions, all that talking must have tired her out, so Draco thought. But even as he worked, she heard her talking to herself. 'Apparently not,' he said to himself, as he walked out of her office. ' My goodness, that woman talks too bloody much,' he thought as he rubbed his forehead. He couldn't stand to be in the hospital wing for a week, even a bloody day. To have that woman fussing over him, forcing disgusting medicine down his throat. He shuddered just thinking about it.
" What are you doing here?" Draco froze. He recognized the soft, quiet voice, and had longed to hear it for some while now. He turned around, slowly. He looked her in the eyes, and he felt as if his heart had just grown wings and flown away. Although, it felt good, strangely.
" Detention," he said as he strolled towards her. As he got closer to the girl, he saw curiosity, but still a shadow of sadness was still there. There was also hurt, as always when he looked into her eyes. He felt his heart get heavy when he saw that. It always hurt him, pained him to know that he had hurt her, in such a big way he could never have imagined.
" Oh," she said, looking down at the book in her hands. She looked as if she had something on her mind, as if she was fighting with her conscience; it was quite too cute for Draco. He laid his hands on the cold metal bars that were at the end of her bed. She was refusing to look up at him; he could see it on her face. Despite that her hair was messy, and that she was in a hospital gown that Draco hated; he still thought she was the most beautiful girl in the world.
" How are you doing?" he asked quietly. One reason because he didn't want Madame Pomphrey to come rushing out and start yelling at him about disturbing the patients. Draco couldn't let that happen; he felt as if his ears were going to pop. And Hermione's voice always soothed him.
" I'm fine," she said, fumbling with the book, still refusing to look up at him. Draco just stared at her; happy that she was at least talking empty conversation with him now. But to Draco, it felt like the sun was shining down on the frosted ground, melting all the ice away. There were a few moments of silence, before Draco let go of the metal bars.
" I'm sorry, for what I did, Hermione. I really am," he said quietly, and headed to the medicine cabinet that he had been assigned to organize.
Hermione all of a sudden looked up, but Draco's back was already to her, as he walked to the Madame Pomphrey's cabinet. She stared after him, not knowing exactly what she was feeling. He had apologized; he had sounded like he had meant it. But Hermione just.. She wanted to believe him, and she did, somewhere in her heart. But there was something else there; doubt. She remembered the tone of his voice back in the Great Hall, when he had said those harsh words. His voice was hard, tense, cruel. But, tense? Why was his voice tense? Draco's comments were mostly mean, but they sounded like that was natural for his mouth to let hurtful words slip. But when he had called her a mudblood -Hermione winced- it sounded somehow forced. So, maybe he had just said that to look.. Well, to prove that he was still the same Draco. Hermione's shoulders slouched, as she gazed at the book in her hands. The words seemed foreign, and hard to read. He was still the same Draco. But maybe, he just didn't want anyone to know.. But that hurt her even more. If he couldn't push his pride away, then she certainly hadn't meant that much to him.
Hermione closed the book softly, not wanting to alarm Draco, and laid it down on the side table. She stared at him for a few moments; he was certainly handsome. She could only see the side view of his face, but you didn't even have to see the full view of his face to see that he was obviously good looking. His silvery blonde hair slicked back, but still tousled in some way. His face seemed relaxed, but somehow tense, as if he was thinking deeply about something. Hermione's eyebrows crinkled in curiosity; he couldn't possibly be in deep thought about the potions and serums in the cabinet, could he? Hermione had looked in there, once before. Lots of bottles, some blue, some clear, some had labels she couldn't even read. But there was certainly not anything interesting there. Sure, she hadn't known Draco very long (on friendly terms, that is) but she knew he wasn't the type to get into deep thought about something as uninteresting as the bottles and vials in the old cabinet. She heard the "clinks" of the bottles, as he organized them. Just then he froze, and he turned his head towards the staring girl, as if he sensed her eyes on him. They let their eyes meet; and she didn't turn away. She searched his eyes, looking for some kind of clue, or hint. Maybe hate, pity.. Disgust. Like what the old Malfoy would feel about her. But even as she searched and searched, she didn't find anything. Not even a trace, or a trail from the disappearance. He didn't hate her. He wasn't disgusted with her. No one, even a boy like Draco, could hide such a strong emotion as hate. Or love. His eyes were clear, but there was a thick haze that prevented her from reading them completely. She couldn't see how he felt, but she saw what he didn't feel. They let their gaze go on for a few more moments, none of them realizing time passing by. Neither of them spoke; both felt as if their tongues were glued to the roof of their mouths. Besides, none of them wanted to interrupt this. Draco wanted time to freeze; he didn't even care about blasted Madame Pomphrey anymore. He would stay here, in the infirmary, stuck in detention for the rest of his life, if hermione was here.
He searched her eyes; no hate, no anger. Just hurt and pain. But he saw the question she wanted to ask him, but held it down in the depths of her heart. Her eyes asked him; Why do you look at me this way? Why can't I see a trace of hate or disgust in you heart? And the last one, he felt his stomach erupt with what seemed like bubbles.
What do you feel for me? If not hate, or disgust, then what?
Draco's eyes stayed on hers, unwavering. He wanted to tell her as much as she had wanted to know. But, he. Just couldn't. He felt nervous everytime he even thought about it. Just then, Madame Pomphrey came bustling out of her office. She grabbed a blue bottle off her desk, and went over to Hermione, not even noticing Draco. Hermione broke their gaze, to look at what Madame Pomphrey was trying to get her to take. Draco sighed; that woman had to get in the way of everything! He quickly returned to rearranging the bottles, still not being able to focus on anything else but the pretty brown haired girl, who was but only a few long strides away from him. He heard Hermione coughing, and Madame Pomphrey giving her a glass of water as she gulped it down. Hermione didn't make a fuss when Madame Pomphrey tried toforce it down her throat; she definitely was something else. Draco remembered he almost had to wrestle with the woman, refusing to take the disgusting medicine. But Hermione, not even a groan, or a complaint. He truly admired the brave, but strange and beautiful girl. Just then Madame Pomphrey rushed back into her office, not even glancing at Draco. Draco sighed again as he put back all the bottles, neatly arranged and organized. He sat there for a while, just staring at what he had accomplished. He felt empty; not even the least bit proud. But mind you, it was a simple task, even a fool could've done it. But not any fool could do it when the girl he was in love with was in the same room, perhaps maybe even observing him. Finally draco sighed, got up, brushed himself off, and walked into Madame Pomphrey's office.
" I'm finished," he said quietly, no expression on his flawless face.
" Alright then, Mr. Malfoy," she sighed, signing a piece of parchment. " You're free to go," she said, and Draco walked out. Draco walked towards Hermione, and stood at the end of the hospital bed, his hands on the cold metal bars again. She looked up at him; her brown eyes boring into his once again. Draco willed himself to walk away, but he couldn't; he felt like his feet were rooted into the ground. Just then, Hermione finally got her voice back, and bravely spoke.
" I heard about the fight, between you and Nickolas," she said quietly. Draco felt his heart flutter at her voice. " Harry told me," she said. Draco just continued on looking at her, not knowing what to say. Then he noticed she began playing with her pale hands; he knew she was tense, and feeling awkward. She finally sighed, and looked down. Draco felt his stomach sink.
" Harry said he didn't know who or what had started the fight, but he told me some of the rumors-" she stopped abruptly, as if having second thoughts about telling him. After a few milliseconds, she started speaking again.
" There was one, concerning me," she said, looking down at her white sheets as if they were the most interesting thing in the world. Then suddenly, she looked up, straight into his stormy gray eyes.
"Is it true?" She asked, almost whispered. But Draco still heard it clearly; as clear as the blue skies were outside. " Yes," he answered, looking deep into her eyes. He saw surprise fill her eyes, and curiosity.
Hermione couldn't believe her ears. Draco had just admitted that he got into that fight, because Nickolas had called her a 'mudblood.' But why? Why would Draco do such a thing, for her? Could it possibly mean that he also had feelings for her too? Draco saw a thick haze of questions cloud her deep eyes, and he knew that they were all about him. And why he had started or gotten into the fight, for her. Hermione opened her mouth, as if to say something, but she closed it again. Draco was sure she was going to ask why, but suddenly changed her mind. To be polite, or because she just didn't want to know; he couldn't tell. But she just looked into his eyes, and Draco knew she didn't want it to end either. If only she could just ask why, then he would tell her. He would tell her that he was in love with her. That he, Draco Malfoy, was in love with her, Hermione Granger. But unfortunately, as a moment passed, she didn't ask, no word uttered from her mouth. So Draco let go of the metal bars, and stepped back, seeing sadness in her eyes; she knew he was going to leave.
" Goodbye Hermione," he said quietly, and took one last glance at her and started towards the doors. But just before he was about to push the doors open, he heard her speak. He froze.
" Thank you Draco," she said, staring longingly at him. " For everything," she whispered, but Draco still heard. Draco felt a faint but real smile spread across his face, as he pushed open the doors and walked out.
By tearsofher
Disclaimer: Don't own hermione or Draco. but sweet ol' Nickolas, I do.. Nasty little prick, isn't he? (I own the lovely plot too..)
Chapter Seven: Detention and the Pretty Girl
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Draco made his way to the Hospital Wing, where he would be serving detention for the night. He had tried to hide the happiness on his face when Professor Snape had told him, glaring at him like a madman. Professor McGonagall had left their punishments to Snape, for they were both in Slytherin, and she was awfully hungry. Draco caught himself almost chuckling at the look on her face as she hurried out of the room. Draco was happy that he was to serve detention in the infirmary; Hermione was to stay there the whole week, as he heard from Potter's and Weasley's conversation in the hallway. Perhaps this would give him the time to apologize to her again.. Or just watch her, look into her eyes, that would surely be enough. Although he hadn't gotten very much sleep last night, as always, he couldn't help but feel the tiredness he felt all day but kept hidden, leave him as he approached the Hospital wing's doors. He felt somewhat ridiculously giddy, which was unfamiliar to any Malfoy. But Draco recognized the feeling; he remembered it from Hermione's and his meetings in the library. He felt the same fluttery feeling in his stomach, his heart pounding in his ears. It was rather annoying, really.
He walked into the hospital wing, and almost instantly he felt his gaze fall upon the pretty Gryffindor girl, who hadn't realized that he had walked in. He felt himself smile; she was biting her lip, completely absorbed in the book, which was quite thick, mind you. He was just glad- gladder than he had ever been, with the exception of his father being sent to St. Mungo's- when he had found out she was already awake. But he couldn't visit her, no. Madame Pomphrey was already suspicious, and he didn't need any nasty rumors to greet Hermione when she woke. About him, especially. Well, there were already some things being spread around about Gottery's and his fight.. All revolving around Hermione. He just hoped she hadn't heard of the fight, or any of the rumors. He didn't know what she'd say, even though he had spent almost all his time observing her. He walked slowly, casually to Madame Pomphrey's office, and he saw Hermione's gaze meet his, surprise overshadowing the sadness in her eyes. Then he looked away, and entered the office.
Madame Pomphrey had given him precise instructions, all that talking must have tired her out, so Draco thought. But even as he worked, she heard her talking to herself. 'Apparently not,' he said to himself, as he walked out of her office. ' My goodness, that woman talks too bloody much,' he thought as he rubbed his forehead. He couldn't stand to be in the hospital wing for a week, even a bloody day. To have that woman fussing over him, forcing disgusting medicine down his throat. He shuddered just thinking about it.
" What are you doing here?" Draco froze. He recognized the soft, quiet voice, and had longed to hear it for some while now. He turned around, slowly. He looked her in the eyes, and he felt as if his heart had just grown wings and flown away. Although, it felt good, strangely.
" Detention," he said as he strolled towards her. As he got closer to the girl, he saw curiosity, but still a shadow of sadness was still there. There was also hurt, as always when he looked into her eyes. He felt his heart get heavy when he saw that. It always hurt him, pained him to know that he had hurt her, in such a big way he could never have imagined.
" Oh," she said, looking down at the book in her hands. She looked as if she had something on her mind, as if she was fighting with her conscience; it was quite too cute for Draco. He laid his hands on the cold metal bars that were at the end of her bed. She was refusing to look up at him; he could see it on her face. Despite that her hair was messy, and that she was in a hospital gown that Draco hated; he still thought she was the most beautiful girl in the world.
" How are you doing?" he asked quietly. One reason because he didn't want Madame Pomphrey to come rushing out and start yelling at him about disturbing the patients. Draco couldn't let that happen; he felt as if his ears were going to pop. And Hermione's voice always soothed him.
" I'm fine," she said, fumbling with the book, still refusing to look up at him. Draco just stared at her; happy that she was at least talking empty conversation with him now. But to Draco, it felt like the sun was shining down on the frosted ground, melting all the ice away. There were a few moments of silence, before Draco let go of the metal bars.
" I'm sorry, for what I did, Hermione. I really am," he said quietly, and headed to the medicine cabinet that he had been assigned to organize.
Hermione all of a sudden looked up, but Draco's back was already to her, as he walked to the Madame Pomphrey's cabinet. She stared after him, not knowing exactly what she was feeling. He had apologized; he had sounded like he had meant it. But Hermione just.. She wanted to believe him, and she did, somewhere in her heart. But there was something else there; doubt. She remembered the tone of his voice back in the Great Hall, when he had said those harsh words. His voice was hard, tense, cruel. But, tense? Why was his voice tense? Draco's comments were mostly mean, but they sounded like that was natural for his mouth to let hurtful words slip. But when he had called her a mudblood -Hermione winced- it sounded somehow forced. So, maybe he had just said that to look.. Well, to prove that he was still the same Draco. Hermione's shoulders slouched, as she gazed at the book in her hands. The words seemed foreign, and hard to read. He was still the same Draco. But maybe, he just didn't want anyone to know.. But that hurt her even more. If he couldn't push his pride away, then she certainly hadn't meant that much to him.
Hermione closed the book softly, not wanting to alarm Draco, and laid it down on the side table. She stared at him for a few moments; he was certainly handsome. She could only see the side view of his face, but you didn't even have to see the full view of his face to see that he was obviously good looking. His silvery blonde hair slicked back, but still tousled in some way. His face seemed relaxed, but somehow tense, as if he was thinking deeply about something. Hermione's eyebrows crinkled in curiosity; he couldn't possibly be in deep thought about the potions and serums in the cabinet, could he? Hermione had looked in there, once before. Lots of bottles, some blue, some clear, some had labels she couldn't even read. But there was certainly not anything interesting there. Sure, she hadn't known Draco very long (on friendly terms, that is) but she knew he wasn't the type to get into deep thought about something as uninteresting as the bottles and vials in the old cabinet. She heard the "clinks" of the bottles, as he organized them. Just then he froze, and he turned his head towards the staring girl, as if he sensed her eyes on him. They let their eyes meet; and she didn't turn away. She searched his eyes, looking for some kind of clue, or hint. Maybe hate, pity.. Disgust. Like what the old Malfoy would feel about her. But even as she searched and searched, she didn't find anything. Not even a trace, or a trail from the disappearance. He didn't hate her. He wasn't disgusted with her. No one, even a boy like Draco, could hide such a strong emotion as hate. Or love. His eyes were clear, but there was a thick haze that prevented her from reading them completely. She couldn't see how he felt, but she saw what he didn't feel. They let their gaze go on for a few more moments, none of them realizing time passing by. Neither of them spoke; both felt as if their tongues were glued to the roof of their mouths. Besides, none of them wanted to interrupt this. Draco wanted time to freeze; he didn't even care about blasted Madame Pomphrey anymore. He would stay here, in the infirmary, stuck in detention for the rest of his life, if hermione was here.
He searched her eyes; no hate, no anger. Just hurt and pain. But he saw the question she wanted to ask him, but held it down in the depths of her heart. Her eyes asked him; Why do you look at me this way? Why can't I see a trace of hate or disgust in you heart? And the last one, he felt his stomach erupt with what seemed like bubbles.
What do you feel for me? If not hate, or disgust, then what?
Draco's eyes stayed on hers, unwavering. He wanted to tell her as much as she had wanted to know. But, he. Just couldn't. He felt nervous everytime he even thought about it. Just then, Madame Pomphrey came bustling out of her office. She grabbed a blue bottle off her desk, and went over to Hermione, not even noticing Draco. Hermione broke their gaze, to look at what Madame Pomphrey was trying to get her to take. Draco sighed; that woman had to get in the way of everything! He quickly returned to rearranging the bottles, still not being able to focus on anything else but the pretty brown haired girl, who was but only a few long strides away from him. He heard Hermione coughing, and Madame Pomphrey giving her a glass of water as she gulped it down. Hermione didn't make a fuss when Madame Pomphrey tried toforce it down her throat; she definitely was something else. Draco remembered he almost had to wrestle with the woman, refusing to take the disgusting medicine. But Hermione, not even a groan, or a complaint. He truly admired the brave, but strange and beautiful girl. Just then Madame Pomphrey rushed back into her office, not even glancing at Draco. Draco sighed again as he put back all the bottles, neatly arranged and organized. He sat there for a while, just staring at what he had accomplished. He felt empty; not even the least bit proud. But mind you, it was a simple task, even a fool could've done it. But not any fool could do it when the girl he was in love with was in the same room, perhaps maybe even observing him. Finally draco sighed, got up, brushed himself off, and walked into Madame Pomphrey's office.
" I'm finished," he said quietly, no expression on his flawless face.
" Alright then, Mr. Malfoy," she sighed, signing a piece of parchment. " You're free to go," she said, and Draco walked out. Draco walked towards Hermione, and stood at the end of the hospital bed, his hands on the cold metal bars again. She looked up at him; her brown eyes boring into his once again. Draco willed himself to walk away, but he couldn't; he felt like his feet were rooted into the ground. Just then, Hermione finally got her voice back, and bravely spoke.
" I heard about the fight, between you and Nickolas," she said quietly. Draco felt his heart flutter at her voice. " Harry told me," she said. Draco just continued on looking at her, not knowing what to say. Then he noticed she began playing with her pale hands; he knew she was tense, and feeling awkward. She finally sighed, and looked down. Draco felt his stomach sink.
" Harry said he didn't know who or what had started the fight, but he told me some of the rumors-" she stopped abruptly, as if having second thoughts about telling him. After a few milliseconds, she started speaking again.
" There was one, concerning me," she said, looking down at her white sheets as if they were the most interesting thing in the world. Then suddenly, she looked up, straight into his stormy gray eyes.
"Is it true?" She asked, almost whispered. But Draco still heard it clearly; as clear as the blue skies were outside. " Yes," he answered, looking deep into her eyes. He saw surprise fill her eyes, and curiosity.
Hermione couldn't believe her ears. Draco had just admitted that he got into that fight, because Nickolas had called her a 'mudblood.' But why? Why would Draco do such a thing, for her? Could it possibly mean that he also had feelings for her too? Draco saw a thick haze of questions cloud her deep eyes, and he knew that they were all about him. And why he had started or gotten into the fight, for her. Hermione opened her mouth, as if to say something, but she closed it again. Draco was sure she was going to ask why, but suddenly changed her mind. To be polite, or because she just didn't want to know; he couldn't tell. But she just looked into his eyes, and Draco knew she didn't want it to end either. If only she could just ask why, then he would tell her. He would tell her that he was in love with her. That he, Draco Malfoy, was in love with her, Hermione Granger. But unfortunately, as a moment passed, she didn't ask, no word uttered from her mouth. So Draco let go of the metal bars, and stepped back, seeing sadness in her eyes; she knew he was going to leave.
" Goodbye Hermione," he said quietly, and took one last glance at her and started towards the doors. But just before he was about to push the doors open, he heard her speak. He froze.
" Thank you Draco," she said, staring longingly at him. " For everything," she whispered, but Draco still heard. Draco felt a faint but real smile spread across his face, as he pushed open the doors and walked out.
