IMPRESSIONS chapter thirteen
Disclaimer: Don't own anything, except for stuff you don't recognize.
Summary: An emotionally, physically, and mentally wounded Draco needs someone to help him, whether he wants to admit it or not, after his father lands in Azkaban, his mother is committed to St. Mungo's, and his entire world crumbles. Romance/Angst.
Author's Note: Please review!
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"Hermione, I think you need to tell us the truth," he said tersely, holding the Marauder's Map in his hand limply.
Hermione went even whiter. She was sorely tempted to spill everything to her two best friends; however, her promise to Draco kept her from telling his secret. "Harry – Ron"-
"Hermione, what is going on with you and Malfoy?" asked Harry, cutting her off. "I can understand you saving his life because you're a good person, but pile this on with everything else…"
"Look, I pity him, okay?" said Hermione, hoping desperately her words would assuage Ron and Harry's thirst for the truth.
"You pity him? Malfoy?" said Ron in disbelief.
"Yes! It's just, his father's been horrible to him and he's – he's tired of all his Slytherin friends!" said Hermione. Well, that's the truth at least. His father is horrible to him.
Ron's freckles were standing out quite noticeably against his pale skin. "Hermione, since when do you care about poor Malfoy?" he spat. "When has the git been anything but a git?"
Hermione finally lost her temper. "Look, Ron, I don't have to justify myself to you! I can do whatever I want! And if that includes saving Malfoy's life, well, you'll just have to deal with it!" she shrieked, shoving the bag with Harry's Invisibility Cloak into Harry's chest. "Now just leave me alone, all right?" she stormed off, taking the steps to the Girl's dormitory two at a time.
Harry turned to Ron, who was staring after Hermione with his jaw sagging in surprise. "Mate, I think we might have pushed it too far," he said sadly.
"I don't care," said Ron savagely, kicking a pillow on the ground. "I'm not talking to her if she's going to chase after Malfoy."
"Ron, I don't think she's chasing after"-
"I don't care," Ron repeated, cutting him off. "G'night, Harry," he said morosely, and slouched up the stairs.
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I may have found something.
D. L. G. M.
Hermione crumpled up the note, her eyes red from crying. The entire school was buzzing about her saving Draco's life, and his strange disappearance from the Hospital Wing – and, indeed, the school. Even two days after the Quidditch game, there had been no sign of the Slytherin, in classes, at meals, or in Hogsmeade. They all assumed Hermione had hidden him, because Ron had 'accidentally' let loose that she had gone to visit him in the Hospital Wing.
Her fellow Gryffindors were all ignoring her. Even Ginny, whom she considered to be above such things, was fuming about Gryffindor's loss.
She took a bite of toast and shoved the Arithmancy book she was reading into her bag. She swung it over her shoulder, averting her eyes from her friends, and marched out of the Great Hall, doing her best to ignore her House back.
Deciding she might as well see what Draco had found as long as she had half an hour to kill, Hermione turned left when she exited the Great Hall and strode purposefully to the Room of Requirement.
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When Hermione entered the chamber, her eyes were drawn to the bed, where a lump under the covers indicated that the Slytherin was sleeping. She smirked when she saw the bedspread littered with books and parchments; he must have fallen asleep reading.
She walked as softly as she could over to him, expecting to his his face peaceful, as one's normally did when one was sleeping.
Her eyebrows rose, however, when she realized he was lying completely tense, his lips pursed tightly together, and his eyelids quivering.
His hand was clenched in a fist, and the normally pale skin was almost translucent. "Draco?" she breathed, unsure of whether to wake him.
His eyes flew open and he jerked away, wincing as he aggravated the inflamed skin around the gash. "Bloody hell, how long were you there?" he snapped.
"Not long, I just came in," said Hermione uncertainly. "You wake up easily, I just barely said your name."
"I'm a light sleeper," he muttered irritably. He ran a hand through his silver-blond hair. "What are you doing here, anyway?"
Hermione's lower lip trembled and she cast her eyes down, staring at the floor.
"What?" asked Draco unfeelingly. "What's wrong with you?"
She struggled to hold back the threatening tears. "Nothing," she mumbled.
"Like hell it's not. What's your problem?" Draco repeated, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and standing. He walked over to the sink, not bothering to pull a shirt over the stained bandage on his stomach. He grabbed his wand from under his pillow and tapped it on the faucet, which immediately began spouting warm water.
"It's just… Ron and Harry are terribly mad at me," said Hermione meekly. "Well, the whole of Gryffindor is, really."
"What for?" asked Draco, the barest hint of curiosity in his tone as he splashed some water on his face.
"Merlin's beard, you're daft! And unappreciative!" said Hermione wildly, her already fragile nerves beginning to teeter past control.
"They're mad at you because you slowed my fall?" said Draco, refusing to say that she had saved his life.
"Yes, but that's not all of it," said Hermione, turning away so the blond wouldn't see her tears.
"You'll get used to your House hating you," said Draco, in what he seemed to think was an encouraging way.
Hermione burst into tears. "It's not just that, okay? They hate me because I helped Slytherin win! And Harry and Ron are mad because"- she paused to take a breath amid her sobs –"because they know I've been seeing you – and they know you kissed me more than once!"
"But you didn't help me win," said Draco. "I caught the snitch before I fell."
"So? You think that I should try and tell them that?" Hermione sniffed. "And now, when I've pretty much shoved my friends away, you act like a prat."
Draco was mildly offended. "What? I haven't called you a mudblood or anything, I've called you by your name!"
"So? That doesn't make you a nice guy," said Hermione, brutally honest. "Tell me, why do you hate me?"
Draco was somewhat surprised by the question. "Truthfully?" he said finally, wiping his face with a towel.
"Of course," said Hermione, somewhat indignantly.
Draco sat down on the foot of the bed. "Well…" he seemed uncomfortable.
"Just spit it out," said Hermione exasperatedly.
"Fine," said Draco. "I hate you because… You're better than me. And I'm supposed to be superior to everyone in at least one way, and I'm not to you. And you're a mud – a muggleborn."
Hermione's jaw dropped. "What?"
He scowled. "Don't make me repeat it again," he muttered.
"But why are you supposed to be superior to everyone?" questioned Hermione. "And I'm not better than you! You're loads better in Potions and just as good in Arithmancy!" Somehow, she felt the need to reassure him of his skills.
He glared at her. "I'm still not better than you. And it's because…" he sighed. "Because I'm a Malfoy."
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Author's Note: Well, sorry that this chapter got out so late. I was banned from the computer for a few days, and wasn't able to write much. Expect another chapter soon, probably tomorrow!
Thanks to Monica, as always, for being my sounding board (on not just this, on plenty of other stuff, too… GIVEN!) and thanks to all my reviewers. I have 95 reviews! I've NEVER gotten that many before! I'm astounded! Thanks again!
Ar-Zimraphel