Disclaimer- nothing's mine.
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To say she was surprised would be an absolute understatement. She was speechless, a first for Hermione Granger. She didn't know what to say, she didn't know what to do. She was utterly shocked. She thought her ears had deceived her, she thought she was losing her mind.
"Wha.. What did you say?" she asked stupidly.
"You heard me." was all he said.
"Why?" she asked quietly.
"We've changed. I've changed, you've changed. We're not the same people we were last year. When you were there, in my room, I had a strange boost of bravery; all I thought about was protecting you and not giving up because you were there." he explained. He felt some strange vibe through her, one that he felt he could tell her his biggest fear in the world, and she wouldn't tell a soul, and she wouldn't laugh at him. That's probably why he's having no trouble in saying everything he's feeling.
"Uh-huh." was her reply. She was even more shocked than she would have imagined. He was Draco Malfoy, her 'enemy' since first year, but he could see right through her better than Harry or Ron. How was that? How did he, of all people, know that she wasn't the same person from before? How did he know something her best friends didn't even recognize?
"What happened to you?" he asked in barely a whisper, but his face was straight. He showed no emotion on that perfect face of his, but in his voice you could hear it.
She didn't know what to say. How could she tell him this? She hadn't even told Ron or Harry. Some things are better left unsaid, but it was nagging on her to tell him, to make him understand why she isn't the same person. She was scared, she's never felt this way with anyone besides Harry and Ron for the last 7 years! And now there was this guy, whom she's never had a civilized conversation with before, making her feel more comfortable then she's ever felt with her two best friends.
And that was where she told the whole sad story of her unborn sister. How she had been mad at first because of the baby, but then she was ecstatic about it, and how she got extremely close to her mom, and how the baby was going to bring joy to the whole family. She told about how her mom had pains one night, how the doctors said the baby died ("I'm sorry Mr and Mrs. Granger, it looks like the baby didn't survive."), and how her family fell apart. She told about how her parents fought constantly, how they blamed each other for the baby's death, ("If you would have been home instead of at work all the time while I was pregnant, this wouldn't have happened!", or, "If you didn't over work yourself while you were pregnant and actually took care of yourself, she'd still be alive!") and how eventually it was all Hermione's fault that her unborn sister died ("You were jealous! You couldn't handle having another child living here; you were selfish. You didn't want a sister, you wanted it to be just you! So you killed the only thing that has made me happy lately!"). She told him how that because of her being a witch, because of her knowing magic, that her parents disowned her and blamed her for the death of the baby ("You cast a spell; you cursed my baby with that thing you carry around! I don't ever want to see you again, I don't want you in this house, in our family. I hate you!"). She told of the faces her parents held everytime they looked at her; the faces of disgust and hate. The faces that made her want to crawl into a ball and die. She told him of how she almost broke her wand in half because of the ridiculous assumptions.
"I did love her, you know. I was looking forward to raising a little sister. I had wanted it my whole life. When my mom told me she was having a baby, I got mad because I'd be missing out. It felt like the were replacing me because I was almost an adult. It hurt. But then, I don't know, I just took joy in knowing they'd be happy and they'd have something to occupy their time. I decorated the nursery, I bought clothes, I did everything. I wanted to be involved with her. I even picked out her name." she paused.
"And when my mom was having pains, I was so scared. When they said that we'd lost the baby, I was so upset. I just wanted to die too. Then everything just fell apart. I loved her more than anything in the world. I think they couldn't think of a logical reason for her death, so they blamed it on me because they didn't understand magic. So naturally, it was all my fault."
The whole time she cried, the whole time he looked on with concern and regret, the whole time a bond was formed that neither of them knew about. And when she was done, she did not feel sorry for telling him. She was, in fact, happy that someone had given her their time to listen, and that someone actually wanted to listen. She felt better than she had since it happened. Maybe it was the sense of comfort that she felt before she started telling the tale, or maybe it was just because she needed to get it off her chest; but either way, she poured her soul out to him, not regretting it one bit.
He didn't say one thing the whole time. He just sat there, staring at her now, digesting what she said; eating it up as she went, feeling as if she ever stopped talking, the world would end. Her voice intoxicated him, he never wanted her to stop talking. But she did. And he heard everything she said. He was saddened quickly. This girl, who didn't have anything to do with her sisters death, was being blamed because she was a witch. Stereotypes. Because she was a witch, she cast a bad spell. Because he was a Malfoy, he was a death eater. It all worked the same. He knew how she felt, somewhat. He didn't know anything about being accused of killing your family, but he knew how it felt to be stereotyped.
"What happened to you?" she asked, tears still flowing down her cheeks.
He sighed. He knew she'd ask, it was inevitable. But he wasn't sure what to say. In a way, it would be discriminating against her and every other non-pureblood, and he didn't want to hurt her, as odd as it may sound. Sure, he's spent his life hurting her, but he just didn't care anymore. He wasn't going to be what his father wanted him to be. So, he told her.
"My whole life I've been expected to be a Death Eater, my life has been planned out accordingly. Every thing is set, just waiting for the right time. Punishment after punishment has been used to get me strong enough to serve the Dark Lord. For a while, it's everything I wanted to be. My Father, in a lump sum. He was strong, he was wealthy, he was powerful, he was feared, he was perfect. I wanted to be him in every way possible, until this summer. I witnessed a bunch of murders. I chilled me to the bone. I can still hear the screams, still see their eyes. Everything that happened, I still see. I relive it every time I close my eyes. And when it came for me to kill, I couldn't do it. I couldn't live with myself after I'd kill innocent muggles. It confused me, because I hated everything about muggles. But the look on their faces; they didn't even know what was happening. It haunts me to this day. And when I was commanded by Father and the Dark Lord to kill them, it opened my eyes. I knew right then that I never wanted to be a Death Eater. I couldn't kill innocent people for no reason, especially muggles. They didn't know anything about the magical world; they didn't know that there are people out there who hate them just because they have no magical abilities. It was stupid and cold. I decided right then and there that I'd never be what my Father wants me to be. I'd never be a Death Eater, never kill innocent people again." he paused a bit, then continued, "I'll never be a puppet to Voldemort. He's a half-blood! And my Father continues to kiss his robes. My whole life I've been taught that pureblood was everything; never let a half-blood or mudblood control you. But look at my Father! He lives under a half-bloods rule. I know now, my whole life is one big lie. When I expressed--not intentionally, of course--my want to get married and be a father, I was severely punished. 'Malfoy's don't fall in love.' my father said. I think he actually felt the same way I do, but he's just too much of a coward. He likes the power, but he hates killing people. You can see it in his eyes, but he's scared. He's too far deep with his Lord. If he were to back out now, he'd be killed in an instant." he paused again, closing his eyes, reminiscing.
She sat there in awe, listening to his story. She was a little upset by him saying 'mudblood' but she can't say anything. It's just like she was brought up that people who eat too much sugar have rotting teeth.
She watched him as he remembered only stuff he knew, looking at him strangely. She was just now noticing that he, again, poured him entire soul into her. She felt needed, she felt wanted, and she loved the feeling.
He continued after a couple of moments of silence; beautiful silence.
"He never loved her, you know. My mother, I mean. He still doesn't. He just knew it would get him more power. He told me all that. How would you feel if your father told you that you were only created so he could pass on his power to you? That you were created by two filthy people who couldn't care less about you, except if you lived well enough to become powerful and influential? I want out. I'll never be anybody's puppet." And that's where he stopped talking.
They sat there, both completely quiet. Neither knowing what to say to the other. They were confused too, both feeling the same feelings. Why do I feel so comfortable with him/her? Why am I talking so freely with him/her? Why does this feel so right? Why do I feel as though I can trust him/her? What does this mean?
"Thanks, Malfoy." she broke the silence.
"For what?" he asked, but already suspecting what she was going to say; for he felt the same.
"For this. For all this. For talking to me, for listening to me, for not laughing at me, and not being rude. For understanding me better than I do myself." she said.
He smiled, a true smile. It wasn't big, but it immediately brightened the mood. He liked this feeling, the feeling of being needed and wanted at the same time. This girl in front of him was the only friend he's ever had.
"Thanks. For being a friend." they said together.
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The two talked long into the day, not bothering to eat lunch, both completely content with sitting in the hospital wing listening to the other talk. Both had the unmistakable feeling of understanding from the other person. Dinner was brought to them by Madam Pompfrey who insisted on them to stay one more night in the hospital. Neither objected, for neither wanted to leave.
Hermione was so interested in talking to Draco that she never thought about Harry and Ron never coming to see her after the game, never coming at all. She didn't worry about what would happen when she got out of the infirmary, how she would act around Draco. She was absorbed in the present, not in the future. She was carefree at the moment and didn't want to feel any other feeling for the rest of her life.
Their talking subsided late into the night, when the only light available in the infirmary was the light from the torches on the walls and the stars shining through the windows. During their talking, both made their way to their beds, which were right next to each other. Now both were in their beds, listening to the silence that consumed them. After hours of just laying in bed, Draco fell asleep.
Hermione lay awake, thinking of what new revelations the day brought. Slowly she drifted off into another land.
She walked down the same dark hallway, remembering every twist and turn like the back of her hand. She remembered every picture, door, and statue. She stared at the end of the hallway, watching the figure lean against the wall. She knew he'd be there, waiting.
"Hey." she said as she reached him.
"What took you so long? I've been waiting here forever!" he nearly shouted.
She made a gesture for him to be quiet, so he lowered his voice.
"I've been here forever, waiting for you!" he whispered.
"I was just up, couldn't go to sleep." she replied.
"So what are we up for tonight?" she asked.
"Not sure, guess we'll find out." he shrugged.
"Okay?" she whispered, her fright evident in her voice.
He stood from the wall and walked ahead of her, motioning for her to follow. He led her up the stairs to another long hallway filled with old paintings of people, all sporting the platinum blonde hair. They all had sneers on their faces, like it was permanately glued to every Malfoy born.
He walked into a door on the right side of the hallway and told her to wait outside. She stood there, looking at the paintings, the crimson carpet, the dark hallway, the unwelcoming feeling.
He came out about 10 minutes later, carrying a large dusty book. He had a smug look on his face as he walked out, looking proud.
"What's that?" she asked, motioning at the book.
"This..? It's research!" he replied, excitedly.
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Most of this you've read. The end part is kinda just nothing, I just needed to update so you guys know I haven't abandoned this story. Sorry if this isn't perfect. It was just thrown together.. I'll get a real chapter up sometime. Hopefully. But, I HAVEN'T given up on this. It's just taking a long time for me to update.