Hey look, I'm back :) I want to say I was purely OVERWHELMED by the amount of reviews last chapter! I loved every single one, and I hope some of you are still around to read this one. I've been having plenty of inspiration but this was hell to write. It wasn't until I sat down and took a different approach that I was able to write it, and if I get just half the reviews I got for last chapter, It'll be a success in my opinion. It's a bit of a random chapter, but I hope in some small way it will be worth your time.
After the initial shock had worn off and the students returned to classes, Hermione found it much more difficult coping though she had schoolwork to occupy herself now. Everything reminded her of Harry; the professors, the classes, even the inanimate things like meals and books.
Needless to say, she was not faring well at all. Her grades were suffering horribly, and she had taken to skipping several of her classes altogether. In any other year she would have already drawn up study tables for Ron and Harry, as NEWTs were zooming toward them at an unexpected rate. Instead she wasn't doing the homework, and wasn't attending classes. It was the event most students had never even dreamt of seeing.
Ron wasn't speaking to her. She didn't know the reason; perhaps he blamed her or expected her to be coping much better, and he was just ashamed of her. She didn't exactly care to find out. The only thing that truly kept her going was Draco Malfoy.
He would make magical copies of his notes in all the subjects she had missed and plant them in her bag so she wouldn't accuse him of treating her differently because of the death of her best friend. In the evenings the two would talk for hours about anything but the war. He was careful not to mention anything regarding the object of her current depression.
Hermione, having never experienced the death of a loved one before, was confused. From all she had heard, people tend to accept death once they get closure. So why was it that she was getting worse and not better? She thought she had accepted the fact that she would never see the sparkle of her friend's shocking green eyes, she would never see him holding up a snitch in triumph, the one thing he truly loved.
She found it strangely ironic that the one who had ridiculed her best friend for years was the one who was, in a way, comforting her through his death. Draco had never openly mentioned Harry at any time, nor had he spoken of his care for Hermione, but she understood anyway. And she was unbelievable grateful to him, but never spoke of it.
One night after a day Hermione had spent holed up in her room, she sat in the commons, staring morosely into the fire. Draco sat down next to her, creating a plate of sandwiches, but she just shifted her gaze onto the plate and back to the fire. Draco could see the bright orange glow in her eyes.
"Eat," he said softly, not looking directly at her. She shook her head.
"Thanks, I'm not hungry," she replied, fidgeting with a loose string on the blanket she was sitting upon.
"You haven't been hungry for a day and a half," he reminded her, leaning back against the couch.
"I know," she said quietly, glancing at him to make sure he wasn't angry. He stared back at her and she shivered at the depth of his eyes. After he had been away for so long, she found it hard to readjust to having him around all of the time, and she had forgotten how complex he could be.
She found she was spending less time with Blaise than she would have chosen to, but when it really came down to it, she wasn't spending much time with anyone at all. Except for Draco, that was. But they did live together, after all.
"I spoke to Blaise today," Draco began, moving his potions assignment out of his bag. "He asked how you were doing."
"What did you tell him?" she asked, looking at him. He shrugged.
"I said I wasn't sure, and he said he might come see you tomorrow," he replied. Hermione wasn't sure whether or not to be excited at the news. She had no aspirations of leaving the commons anytime soon, but she didn't want Blaise to see her like this.
"Are you going to classes tomorrow?" he asked outright, gazing intently at wall past her head, deep in thought.
"I don't know. Probably not," she said shortly. He sighed audibly, turning his gaze on her.
"Look Granger, I've been trying to avoid it but it won't turn out beneficial to either of us," he began, watching her reaction closely. "NEWTs are only a month away, and I know you know that, and I know you have no motivation, not that I blame you, but this isn't like you. I've seen you every year since first treating year end exams like the end-all." He looked into her eyes, though she refused to hold his intense gaze. "I don't want to see you do poorly on the test that really matters."
Hermione knew he was genuinely concerned but it didn't stop her blood from boiling only slightly at his statement. She was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. And she bloody well knew how important her NEWTs were.
"Malfoy, I understand you care, and I am grateful, but honestly, you were the last person I expected to bother me about this. I'm sorry, but it's my own decision whether I go to classes or not. The reason I'm not going in the first place is that I know people will question me relentlessly about things I don't want to discuss," she explained with a tone of desperation. Draco was silent for a moment and she let out a frustrated sigh, covering her face with the Slytherin blanket she was currently huddled under, like she did as a child. Draco was almost tempted to smile, when he realized she wasn't going to come back out.
When she did it was without warning, and she looked ready to burst. "This just sucks! Why him?" she asked him, not expecting an answer, trying furiously to stop the tears from passing down her cheeks. "He did nothing but good, and this is where he ended up," she continued, pulling her knees onto the couch and wrapping her arms around them.
Draco could think of no suitable answer so he merely watched her for a moment.
"It's not fair," she added stubbornly, looking at him. "Has anyone ever mentioned how creepy it is when you stare at them like that?"
He blinked at her sudden change in mood and topic. "No, actually, they haven't," he replied, directing his gaze elsewhere.
There was a knock on the portrait and Draco stared at Hermione for a moment then stood up to open it. Hermione watched, lost for words, as Ron Weasley walked in, throwing himself down on the other couch. Draco shot her a glance, and she nodded, before he closed the door and walked over to her.
"I'll be upstairs," he said quietly so Ron couldn't hear. She gave him a tiny smile before he left the room.
"So," she prompted conversation with Ron as he stared angrily at the table.
"So? Hermione, what's the matter with you?" he asked darkly. "Any reason you haven't been in class for days now?"
"I... haven't been up to it, Ron, that's all," she answered quietly, not allowing herself to meet his gaze.
"That's your excuse?" he asked in disbelief. "You haven't bloody been up to it," he repeated and Hermione suddenly felt sick.
"Yes, if you want to call it an excuse," she replied scathingly.
"You think you have a right to keep locked up in here than I do?" he asked angrily. "You've hardly spokento him all year."
"You think since I've been working my ass off with head duties it doesn't give me a right to be upset about the death of my best friend?" she asked, anger rising.
"Clearly your best friends don't even belong to Gryffindor anymore, as you spend all your time with Slytherins," he said simply, glaring at her. "Harry was never your best friend."
"Don't you bloody talk about him like that," she muttered, voice quaking with rage. "Don't you bloody insult his memory that way. Harry was the best person I knew, and I wouldn't trade him for anyone."
"Yeah? So what impulses you to spend every minute in here with Malfoy?" he asked, voice rising. "If you care so much about Harry, why even speak with his murderer."
"Draco did not murder Harry, he is not his father, Ron," Hermione wiped away at the tears flowing down her cheeks.
"If he isn't now, he will be." Hermione stared intensely at Ron, the one person who she thought would understand her entirely, and instead she suddenly hated him with every fibre of her being.
"Don't talk about things you don't fucking understand," she hissed, beyond upset and burning with animosity. "Get out of here."
He sneered at her then, but didn't turn to leave. "Of course, you wouldn't want to keep Malfoy waiting, would you? He could move on to his next little whore."
With this remark he knew he'd gone too far. At least, far enough to find Hermione's wand aimed at him, hand shaking with anger. He shook his head and left the room, leaving Hermione to let out a strangled cry of frustration and she stormed up the stairs. She threw open the door neatly labeled 'Head Boy' and the occupant of the room glanced up in surprise.
"What's wrong?" he asked, frowning as he saw her red eyes.
"Ron's an idiot," she muttered, glancing down. She took a deep breath, looking back at him. "Could I maybe, stay with you tonight?" she asked hesitantly, eyes hopeful.
"Um yeah, sure, it's a bit of a mess, but..." he said, glancing around the room.
"No," she said softly, cutting him off. "I mean, can I stay with you?" she repeated and he paled as he understood her meaning.
"I don't think that's a good idea right now," he said gently, massaging her shoulders, but she pulled away.
"Why not?" her eyes flashed and he sighed.
"Hermione," he began and paused, as she let the sound of her name in his drawl wash over her. "Meaning no offense, you're not thinking rationally."
"So? I don't care, I want this," she whispered, catching his gaze, hating the pity it contained but unable to look away.
"I won't deny I want it too, but just not now," he said softly.
"Then do me this favour, please," she asked, discarding her remaining pride. "I want to forget, just for one night. Is that too much to ask?" Her lip quivered as she fought to stop more tears from flowing.
The pain in her eyes was too much, and he felt his resolve weaken. He traced her cheek with his thumb, wiping away the stray moisture. She shut her eyes at the touch, taking a shaky breath.
"I would..." he glanced away. "It feels wrong."
"It would feel right with any other girl, wouldn't it?" she asked suspiciously. He shook his head.
"It's not even that; you're upset with Weasley and you're emotionally unstable. I don't want you to do anything you'll regret," he held her gaze once more.
"I won't regret it," she said quickly, losing patience. "Why can I not do anything that I might be unaccountable for? When you left," she took a breath. "Well, I did a lot of thinking while you were gone, about what you said. About giving immorality a chance," she gave him a conspiratorial glance and he laughed.
"You think sleeping with me will be immoral? That's hardly a reason, Granger," he smirked.
"Come on, Draco... yes or no?" she stated, holding her breath while he stared at her.
"Well," he drawled, taking his time. "Since you called me Draco..." he leaned towards her ear, biting down on her earlobe. "Yeah, alright," he whispered, eyes glowing.
He pressed his lips firmly to hers, trying to shove all negative feelings to the back of his mind. It couldn't possibly be considered as taking advantage if she was willing, could it? But as he kicked the door shut, pulling her as close as he could manage, he was lost of coherent thought. She was a damn good kisser; always a promising aspect.
Draco stalked down to breakfast the next morning, feeling quite irritable. Firstly he had overslept, forcing him to spend a mere five minutes in the shower, not to mention the fact that he had awoken with Hermione next to him. He felt as if he should be thrilled but just could not shake the thoughts that it was wrong all the same. She wasn't even thinking.
And he had been spooked by his abnormal awakening, causing him to hurry off without bothering to wake her, as she had said she didn't plan on going to classes. But the more he thought about it, the worse he felt about that too. She may have just assumed he had treated the night like a one-night stand.
Which he didn't think at all. In fact, it was the complete opposite and Draco found it hard to admit that it had quite possibly been the best night of his life. Adding to his frustration the fact that he couldn't celebrate it in a carefree manner like he would have wished.
Needless to say, as he threw himself down next to Blaise in potions after a skipped breakfast, the latter was taken aback.
"Rough night?" the brunette asked lightly, receiving a cold glare from the blond. Blaise sighed. "You got laid again, didn't you?"
The blond threw aside his visage of loathing for a moment to be replaced by question. "How the hell do you always know?"
"It's either a gift or a curse, I've yet to decide," Blaise replied, grinning. "So who was it?"
"Three guesses," the other drawled, tone dripping with sarcasm. Blaise pretended to go through a mental checklist.
"I've no idea," he said, though it was obvious he hadn't thought hard.
Draco glanced up the room at Snape; it was clear that the professor was allowing their conversation to continue without mentioning it.
"It was Hermione," Draco muttered, looking away from Blaise.
"No way," Blaise said simply, watching Draco. "You can't be serious, Malfoy."
"Something you'd like to share, Malfoy?" Snape drawled from the front of the dungeons.
"Not particularly, Professor," he replied simply, hardly bothering to glace at the man.
"Fine, keep it down then," Snape added, and continued with the lesson. Draco found himself for a moment and shot a smirk at Weasley, who appeared outraged. He shot a rude gesture at Draco who sneered back at him.
"No Weasley, I won't do this potion for you," he said, loud enough for Snape to hear. Blaise snickered beside him, and the Gryffindors shot them dirty looks.
"Fifty points from Gryffindor, Weasley, obviously you knew you wouldn't be able to perform in this course, so why bother?" Snape asked, before returning to the lesson once more. Draco opened his mouth to continue, as revenge would be sweet, but Blaise cut him off, jerking him back into his dark manner.
"Tell me you didn't fuck Hermione, Malfoy," he whispered, expression serious. "You of all people know what she's going through."
"It was unintentional," he stated, sighing. "Weasley was a bastard to her and she got riled and, well, asked me to, and I told her I wouldn't but..."
"But you did anyway? Tell me how something like that can be 'unintentional,'" Blaise repeated in disbelief.
"I don't bloody know, alright? I lost control," he muttered, skimming his notes under the pretense of looking busy.
Blaise stared at his friend for a moment in contemplation. "Will you talk to her?"
"No, I don't think I will," Draco replied scathingly. Blaise raised an eyebrow.
"If you're going to be like that..." Blaise said angrily, stubbornly ignoring Draco for the next five minutes, taking down the notes. Draco proceeded to sulk once more, folding a piece of parchment into a tiny swan to relieve his anger, and then squashing it with a fist.
"Tell me how she was at least," Blaise commented, smirking slightly.
"Incredible," Draco replied without a thought. Blaise looked shocked, watching Draco out of the corner of his eye as he finished copying the ingredients for the day's potion.
"That's a new one," Blaise said, laying down his quill. "You mean she surpasses 'mediocre,' 'nothing special,' and 'too bloody kinky?'" Blaise smirked as Draco laughed at the titles he had given other girls.
"Of course she does," he said stubbornly. "Which is why I plan on keeping her."
"So, Draco Malfoy," Blaise began in a cheesy tone, "how does it feel to be in love?" The blond's eyes flashed as they turned on his best friend.
"I wouldn't know, Zabini," he said, with a harsh coldness to each syllable. "As I've never been in love," he said the word as if it would kill him. His expression lightened as a thought hit him. "I should go talk to her at lunch, do you think?" he asked Blaise.
Blaise stared at his friend in disbelief for a moment, before laughing out loud at his misguided antics.
"Yeah, sure," Blaise said, smirking. "Just don't let your thoughts get too consumed by her or anything."
Draco shot him a glare as he pulled out his cauldron, and Blaise could have sworn he heard him mumbling something to himself, and he specifically heard the words not, bloody, and love.