IMPRESSIONS chapter twenty-six
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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Draco was standing at the table, his face in slack disbelief as he held Hermione's neatly written translation in his hand.
He glanced towards her, his mouth open. "Were you going to tell me about this?"
Hermione, her eyes wide and her face scarlet with embarrassment, said nothing.
"How could you lie to me? You told me that you only had three-quarters of it done!" he accused, crumpling the parchment in his hand.
"Look, Draco, I was humiliated and confused and I didn't know what I wanted to do, it was so strange… I mean, obviously I'm glad that there's a cure, but the fact that it's me… And I don't know what to do, especially now that you know, and I felt so guilty, especially when you were ranting on about dying and"—
His gray eyes widened. "What are you talking about?" he asked frankly.
Hermione deflated. "What?"
He handed the parchment to her, perplexed.
She accepted it and realized, while it was her translation, it was the second-to-last page, not the last, where the actual cure was written.
She went green and stalked over to the room, grabbing the appropriate parchment. "I have to go," she said breathlessly.
He stared at her undisguised confusion. "What is wrong with you?"
She paled and crumpled up the papers and stuffed them in her pocket. "You shouldn't be here! You should be in the Hospital Wing! You're going to make it worse!" she chided shrilly.
His eyebrows rose in elegant bewilderment. "Hermione, I don't know what is wrong with you, but I would very much like to find out."
She went paler. "Nothing, okay? I just—I just"—she broke off. Tell him the truth, you bloody coward. Tell him that he isn't going to die. But he might, Hermione's logical mind said. I have to fall in love with him. So what? Who's to say that's going to be as hard a feat that you make it out to be?
"What are you hiding?" his eyes narrowed maliciously. He walked towards her smoothly, reaching into her pocket and withdrawing the parchments. Hermione trembled violently.
"Draco, stop"—
"What is this?" he questioned mildly, flattening out the thick papers.
Hermione bit her lip. "Please, don't"—
He silenced her temporarily with a glance, but Hermione quickly regained her boldness and moved forward, trying to snatch the parchment from him before he had a chance to read through it.
He stretched out a long arm and held her back, but his arm fell to his side. Hermione's heart thudded in her chest.
He raised his eyes to her, his fingers letting go of the paper. Hermione's translation floated gently to the floor, coming to rest on the floor. "Tell me it's a joke," he said blankly.
Hermione's eyes filled with tears and she stared at her feet. "No."
He did the last thing Hermione expected: his face split into an evil smirk. "This is bloody brilliant!"
"What?" asked Hermione in disbelief, her face scarlet.
"You"—he pointed to her—"have to fall in love with me! That's brilliant!" the blond Slytherin couldn't suppress a snort of laughter.
Hermione glowered at him. "I don't have to do anything, you pompous git!"
He observed her easily. "But you will," he said dismissively, his eyes glinting with withheld mirth. "That's excellent. If you don't want me to die, you have to… Profess your love," he leered. "And you will. No girl can resist my charm."
Hermione squared her shoulders and she placed her hands on her hips. "Excuse me?"
He glanced at her, the unexplainable delight still etched on his features. "You're female, aren't you? Therefore, you won't last long."
Hermione bit her lip in the effort to keep herself from cursing the boy into oblivion. "I don't believe you!" she snapped.
He winced. "Calm down," he said irritably.
"I will not! You are such an unbelievable prick!" Hermione hissed. "I wish that I had never tried to help you! I wish you were stuck in the miserable situation by yourself!"
Holding a hand to his stomach, Draco shot daggers at her. "Well, if it weren't your bloody Gryffindor 'help-everyone-whether-they-want-help-or-not' complex, I wouldn't be in this 'situation,' as you called it! You have your own self to blame!" he spat.
Hermione fought to keep the tears back. "I wanted to help you! You think I would just let you die?"
"Well, you are now!" Draco shot back, his voice dripping venom. "I don't see why you're so upset, anyway!"
"You don't see 'why I'm upset?"' asked Hermione in disbelief. "You're mind-boggling. I don't understand how any one person can be such a complete prig!"
His eyes narrowed and he said nastily, "A complete prig? You didn't seem to think so when you were"—he paused for effect—"so deliciously reciprocating my kiss."
She went crimson and her mouth hardened into a thin line. "I hate you," she spat, forcing herself to ignore the look of surprise—and extreme pain—that flashed across Draco's face. He stumbled back, breathing raggedly.
"Have it your way," he said hoarsely, defeated. "Go away."
She stared at him for a second before turning and stomping out of the room. He stayed there for much longer, cradling his throbbing stomach.
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The entire Gryffindor common room was empty when Hermione stormed in, except for Ron. He was sitting in one the comfortable armchairs in front of the fire, staring at the flames stubbornly. Caught by sudden inspiration—and rebelliousness—Hermione slowed her steps and walked towards him. "Ron?" asked Hermione quietly, deciding to take a chance.
His head jerked towards her. "What?" he snapped.
"Ron, can we be friends again, please?" asked Hermione timidly.
"You can't have both worlds, Hermione," said Ron tightly. "It's Malfoy or us."
"Ron, Malfoy is not my friend, okay? He's a prat," said Hermione. A complete and utter prat.
"Are you sure? Because I've seen you a couple times now where it looked more than friendly," Ron growled, turning his gaze back to the roaring fire.
Hermione sighed and bit her lip, trying to hold back the tears. "It wasn't what it looked like, okay? We're doing an Arithmancy project together, that's why we've spent so much time with each other," she lied, the words burning the tip of her tongue. "I hate him just as much as I always have."
"But you didn't see yourself up in the Astronomy Tower, Hermione," said Ron stubbornly. He swallowed. "Or in Hogsmeade. You were wearing his cloak."
"Only because he gave it to me! And I was cold!" Hermione protested. "He didn't do it for any reason other than to make you look bad!"
Ron glowered at her. "And did it?"
"'Did it' what?" asked Hermione wearily, beginning to regret her decision to talk to Ron.
"Make me look bad!" Ron said angrily. "Since my cloaks obviously aren't nice enough!"
Hermione sighed. "Ron, what are we arguing about? Cloaks? This conversation is ridiculous. All I want is for us to be friends again."
"But I want more than that," he whispered, staring determinedly anywhere but her.
Hermione felt her breath catch and she forced Draco from her mind harder than ever. "Ron…" His life depends on you, Hermione, what are you doing? Her mind screamed at her. Stop! You're just angry! This isn't fair to Ron! Hermione ignored the voice. "Ron, me too…" she said, compelling her voice to sound genuine. This will show the prick that I will 'fall for his charm.'
Ron looked astounded and he went very pink. "W-what?" he asked hesitantly, not sure he heard her correctly.
"Didn't you hear me?" asked Hermione, a bit disappointed.
"I thought I did," said Ron weakly. "Did I…?"
Hermione nodded, swallowing. Ron mistook this for nervousness, and reached out for her arm. He pulled her closer to him. "Hermione…" he whispered, his face close her hers.
This is wrong this is wrong this is wrong this is wrong this is wrong Hermione chanted in a mantra inside her head, as his face loomed closer. She fought to keep a neutral expression on her face as he leaned in and kissed her.
While it was understandable that Draco had considerably more experience in the activity, Hermione couldn't help compare Ron to the blond. Ron was too insistent, too wet, too messy… Hermione suppressed a cringe. It was like kissing her brother. She felt none of the fluttery jump present when Draco kissed her, for he left her with weak knees and trembling hands.
It was obvious that Ron felt none of these things, however, as his arm wrapped around her waist, drawing her closer. Hermione suddenly panicked and jumped away, breathing hard. "Ron, too fast…" she said, her eyes wide.
There was a glimmer of hurt that flashed behind Ron's eyes but it disappeared quickly. "Right, of course," he said, his ears bright red. "Just lost control of myself," he mumbled.
"I should—should go to bed," said Hermione lamely, turning and positively fleeing up the girl's dormitory stairs.
Ron watched her retreating back, a slow grin spreading across his face. He settled into the armchair, crossing his arms. He had beaten Malfoy.
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Dear Diary,
What in Merlin's name was I thinking? I kissed Ron. I kissed Ron because I was mad at Draco. And Draco's life is in my hands; his life depends on my loving him. Merlin, what kind of twisted love triangle is this? What was I thinking? What am I trying to prove? All this will accomplish is eventually hurting Ron. And killing Draco. Bloody hell, I even told him I hated him! What was I thinking?
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Author's Note: Shorter than I would have liked, but this is a pivotal chapter. I don't want to throw too much at you, though I'm sure you all wouldn't mind. Thanks to Monica, Elle, Julia, all the regulars, and to my reviewers!!!
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I AM SO EXCITED I CAN HARDLY TYPE!
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THANK YOUAr-Zimraphel bidding you a fond farewell…
Postscipt: I was hoping for 450 reviews, but is that too much to hope? I made a new reviews-per-chapter record with chapter 25, can I make another one? =) Thanks, everyone.
PPS: Besides, I got this chapter out with alarming rapidity… all due to the incredible number of reviews. So, drop one…