Disclaimer:
Mirror Mirror on the Wall,
No one owns Harry cept J.K. Rowl.
Thank you Queen of Duct Tape for calling me all-knowing and brilliant. (Though I'm not sure the ego boost is good for me.) Technically however, I am an artist by profession. (only because one of my friends bought a sketch from me for a quarter. Thank you Carli)
Chapter 9: Arrival of Earl, the oldest owl
Draco could feel the heat of angry tears run down his face. Why did she always make him cry? No one else ever could, not even his father. Draco glanced around in search for some kickable armor.
"Damn it" he breathed. There was none anywhere in sight. Draco pulled out his wand and pointed it at a stone in the wall. Lowering it, he realized that there was no curse he wanted preform on it that was even remotely legal, and he wasn't going to risk getting in trouble again. Not that using the killing curse on a rock would get him time in Azkaban.
Draco knew he was being a prat, but for some reason he couldn't help it. He had risked everything to save her. He had destroyed all the bonds of loyalty he had before. He'd given up everything. He nearly got sent to Azkaban. And now she couldn't even remember why. She couldn't even comprehend the reasons behind him saving her. She just knew he had. Draco tossed the idea of returning to the Slytherins up in the air. He didn't have to stay to endure this shame or misery, he could go back.
"But to go back means to go back as a traitor. I'll have no more power or honor there than Crabbe. And even he would have more. No. I am not going back." Draco headed for his shared dormitory with Hermione. Part of him felt like trashing the whole place, but yet another wanted to feel close to what he'd lost. As long as he could be there, standing in the place where he told her everything, he felt it might be alright. He felt that maybe she'd remember him.
-----
Hermione stumbled down the hall wearily. Thoughts circled her mind, crowded it with things she wished she could merely forget. The mess with Draco, feeling guilty about not remembering someone who loved her. What her father had done right before she fell unconscious. She knew she'd forever be indebted to Draco. He was, after all, the only reason she was awake at this moment. He was the only reason she'd escaped the fate her father had planned for her. But her father had been right. She couldn't escape the mark of McKlain. She was scared by McKlain, by his kiss. The mark was part of her. It was part of her being. His filth was part of her skin. His blood was part of her own. No one could save her from that. No one could change who she was. Not even Draco.
Hermione tried to lift her head, but it dangled from her neck helplessly, swaying back and forth as she wondered down the hall to nowhere in particular. Her shoulders felt weighted down, tethered to the floor by every thought in her head. Her feet refused to move any great length, and her eyes began to droop. Any passerby might have assumed she'd been drugged, or hadn't any sleep the night before. It seemed the light had gone from her eyes, and she was not more than an empty husk. A shadow of Hermione Granger. For she was not indeed a Granger, but a McKlain, and she loathed every minute of that knowledge.
But why had it occurred to her now? She'd known for two days. She'd sat alone in the hospital wing with the memories of her father for long hours alone, and yet, it only now began to bother her, to make her feel ill.
Hermione picked a destination in her mind and ran. Her legs pumped beneath her, carrying her to the one place she could get clean. Hermione could feel the sweat begin to drip down her side. The filth of McKlain pouring out onto her skin. She began to scratch at her arms, ripping, tearing, at the sleeves of her robes. Hermione fell to the ground and pulled at her hair. Tears streamed down her cheeks and she cried out in rage.
Hermione backed into a corner behind a suit of armor. The portraits on the wall all turned to look at her. Some in sympathy, some in irritation. Hermione grasped the helmet off the armor and threatened to chunk it at the next portrait to even glance in her direction. Within minutes, most of the people had cleared from their frames to leave her alone. Hermione shuddered from the next surge of pain.
Someone laid a hand on her shoulder. Hermione jumped under their touch. More tears streamed down her now raw cheeks. Without even looking at who it was, Hermione turned around and clung to the bottom of their robes. The person attempted to stroke her hair, but she merely jerked away from their grasp.
"Don't touch me!" She shouted indignantly, cling tighter to the hem of their robes. Hermione's vision cleared slightly, and she realized that the robes hung and inch off the ground, exposing fairly old dress shoes. Hermione could feel hands rap around each of her shoulders and lift her to a standing position.
"You know Hermione, it's just not fair of you to ask that of me. Being that you won't let go of my robes." Hermione looked down at her hands. Indeed she still had the frayed bottom of robes in her hands, exposing the dress pants the boy was wearing. Hermione gazed up into the eyes of him who held her. They were gray and piercing eyes, but at the same time sympathetic.
"Draco!" Hermione squirmed in shock. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean for you to see. . . WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE!" Draco quickly let go of her arms, allowing her to scream at him from a safer distance.
"Nothing you would care about," he suddenly noticed the familiar sneer had returned in his voice. "I just couldn't help but hear your wailing all the way down by our common room."
Hermione glared furiously at him.
"You prat! One minute you confessing your love to me, and the very next you acting like a total ASSHOLE! What is your problem? Gosh, no wonder I don't love you." Hermione stamped her foot impatiently for a reply, but all he gave her was various gapes and long silences. "Oh, so now you have nothing to say? I'm leaving!"
"Where to?"
"Like I would tell you. I don't want you following me."
"I could anyways. Where are you going?"
"I actually have no idea." Draco gave her a solemn smirk. Hermione began to stalk off when Draco grabbed her by the arm. Hermione gave him a look of confusion and cocked her head to the side. Draco bent down and kissed her softly on the lips. Her eyes fluttered shut for the brief moment his lips were on hers. Draco pulled away and began to walk briskly down the hall. Hermione felt a tear roll down her cheek, but quickly realized it was not her own. Rubbing her thumb on her face, she came face to face with Draco's tear.
Hermione touched her lips in shock. They were completely and entirely warm, and more than that, she could feel them quivering, but not in fear. Hermione looked down the hall and realized she'd felt safe for the briefest of moments. Her father couldn't touch her when she was there. The mark of McKlain was no longer a poison. Hermione could feel her heart beating inside her chest. That was what she'd forgotten. She hadn't forgotten Draco. She'd forgotten what it felt like to feel your own eyes light up.
Hermione took no time in running down the hall after him. She knew she'd catch up, after all, he wasn't walking that fast. But when she rounded the corner, Draco had completely disappeared.
-----
Draco ran quickly away from his own shame. That was the third time he'd cried. The only problem was, this time someone had seen him. Draco slowed down and thought about this for a moment. Why did he keep crying? The first two were in anger. But the last felt much different. It felt warmer somehow. But his mind couldn't place a finger on it at all; not that his mind had fingers.
Draco soon gave up and decided to go back to his dorm. It had been an extremely long day and he'd cried twice. (If you count one measly tear crying.) Draco soon reached the entrance to the Heads dorm, which was the portrait of a wiry girl on a swing.
"Pumpkin bush." He muttered. The portrait of the girl flicked her straight black hair behind her. Draco groaned. She was stalling to keep him around and he knew it. Four days before she'd even flat out hit on him. Yes, he was very attractive. No, it wasn't cute to be ppesteredabout it. "PPUMPKINBUSH!" Draco yelled in annoyance at her. She merely stopped the swing and fluttered her eye lashes in his direction.
"Aw," the girl pouted, hair falling to her shoulder blades. "Why are you always so anxious to get in the dorm. Aren't I interesting enough for you?" Draco rolled his eyes at the way her lower lip quivered.
"You're a painting." Draco stated flatly. "Now Maria, could you be a doll and let me inside?" Maria rolled her eyes and opened the portrait hole for him.
"Anything for you Draco," he could hear her tease behind him. OUponentering the ddormitory Draco could see a vast number of very squishy couches in all four house colors scattered around the fire. Something else caught his eye however. On his desk was a very large (and tattered) gray owl. It had a muggle envelope tied to it's leg with wire twisters. Draco nearly laughed.
He walked over to the owl and untied the letter from his foot. Being that his own owl was in the ccustodyof his parents, Draco had no food for the obviously second hand bird. After a while it realized this and flew out the window. Draco opened the letter to find a vile of clear liquid in the bottom of it, and a note from the Grangers.
Dear Kids,
I and your father found this bottle lying in the back seat of our car and thought you might need it. I hope Earl, the bird we bborrowedfrom the Weasleys, got there alright. He seems like such a ffragilething. Hope the bottle comes in handy.
Can't stop missing you,
Mom.
Draco looked at the potion in his hand then read the short letter again. A sudden sadness came over him. The Grangers still thought he was their son. Draco took the letter and plopped onto one of the chairs. Popped the top of what he now recognized at the potion he drank at the beginning of summer, causing this mess in the first place, and drank.
-----
Hermione skidded to a stop at the front of the portrait. She looked Maria in the eyes frantically.
"By any chance did Draco come by this way?"
"UUnfortunately Listen, you can have him. That's boy is such a self centered prat!" Maria groaned eemphatically Hermione smiled.
"Thanks. Pumpkin Bush." Maria gave her a look of sympathy and opened the door for her, though she had to admit she'd done Hermione no favors. Hermione walked into the dorm and froze. In Draco's hand was the make a wish potion, or what was left of it anyway. The effect was that your deepest desire at that moment would be fulfilled, unless it involved making someone fall in love or dying. She'd invented the year before.
As she watched him drink it, memories began to flood her mind. Memories of him staring at her, of her slapping him, memories of going to the muggle arcade, and memories of them kissing for the first time. Draco put down the potion and wiped the corner of his mouth.
"What?" He asked innocently.