Disclaimer: I do not own anything. All the credit goes to JK Rowling who created these wonderful characters and story lines and made my mind run wild with 'what ifs'. Enjoy!
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Prologue: The Bathroom
Occupying her usual spot in the Great Hall, Hermione couldn't help but wish she'd made the decision to skip breakfast this morning.
Initially, the day seemed promising. She had been over the moon following yesterday's events with Ron subconsciously gravitating towards her in St. Mungo's following his accidental poisoning.
For one, it left Lavender in a grave state of devastation, much to her satisfaction and Harry's amusement. She sat by his bedside for a good portion of the day, watching over him as he recovered. Up until nightfall came and she was forced to leave his side as visiting hours had ended.
Thus leading to the morning after with Ron believing he was merely 'boggled' from the events that occurred.
To say she was severely disappointed was an understatement. Instead, she forced herself to ignore the subject for the time being and focused her attention on Harry who was still held captive by that wretched book. She tried on several occasions to highlight the malevolent ambiance that surrounded this particular version of the textbook. Especially after he shared some of its contents with her. It was clear to her whoever the previous owner was had a considerable fascination and appreciation for the dark arts. She made to comment on it again before she noticed someone in her peripheral caught her attention.
"Harry, that's Katie—" she hissed across the table, "—Katie Bell."
Recognition flashed across his eyes and intention followed shortly once he'd turned in the direction Hermione was gesturing to. Once spotted, Harry stood and closed his textbook, holding it tightly to his side as he proceeded to make his way over to Katie.
Hermione and Ron watched the two interact from afar, witnessing Harry's posture slump slightly after a few words were exchanged.
"Guessing she still doesn't know who hexed her, eh?" Ron whispered to her. Except the brunette found herself unable to reply as she noticed a drastic shift in Katie's posture.
All of a sudden, she became tense. Shoulders that were once hunched had tightened. She appeared frozen in place. But the key notion was that she was no longer paying any attention to Harry.
Curiosity peaked, she followed Katie's line of sight past Harry's shoulder until her eyes landed on someone standing directly in front of her.
Malfoy.
The existing tension grew exponentially when Harry turned, eyes narrowing as he saw what caused Katie's abrupt change in behavior. The rising guilt in Malfoy's eyes and the way Katie became rigid with his presence told her Harry's suspicions had been right all along.
Before her very own eyes, she saw him unravel. He began to fidget, likely due to his discomfort at the unwanted attention. With newfound panic, Malfoy's eyes darted briefly about the Great Hall and downward before turning his heel, keeping his head down as he hastily walked out the way he came in.
From a distance, Hermione could practically feel as well as she could see Harry's jaw clench. If being his best friend the last six years had told her anything, Hermione knew in that instant Harry had made up his mind about something. And knowing him, he was planning on doing something extremely foolish.
The second he made a move to follow the fleeing wizard, Hermione jumped up from her seat, nearly knocking the food over as she less-than-gracefully maneuvered across the surface of the table. She hopped off and stood her ground in front of her enraged friend. Small hands were planted firm on his chest, halting him in his step.
"Harry, don't," Hermione said firmly, standing her ground.
"Hermione, he's getting away," he whispered urgently. "You saw the look on his face. You know he's up to something—"
"Your obsession with him this year already has you in a bad spot with Snape and McGonagall. You keep pursuing this and it won't matter if you're right or not," she hissed. Ron barely managed to get a word of the conversation even being in close proximity to the two. "I'll go—" She chose to speak at a normal volume this time, indicating that it was meant for Ron to hear as well.
"But—"
"I'm going," she said definitively, grabbing her bag and leaving her untouched food forgotten. It wasn't like she was hungry anyways. "And don't try to entertain any ideas of you 'talking it out' with him. In your current state, you'd probably end up sending him to the hospital. Or worse."
"You're joking, right?" Ron remarked incredulously. "You're actually worried about that ferret? Don't tell me you're going soft for the bloke, 'Mione."
"I'm not," she retorted harshly, "but one of us has to be sensible. So stay put. Both of you." She bit back any further comments and proceeded to hurry in the same direction Malfoy took off in before either of them could protest.
Thankfully, it didn't take too long to catch up to him.
She kept up a quick pace in her step until she had a manageable distance between them. The sound of his shoes hitting the floor kept up with the anxious thudding in her chest. Judging by his haste footing, he was a few paces shy of running. As swiftly as she could manage, Hermione made her way down the corridor using light footsteps, being cautious as to not to bring attention to herself.
Hermione waited to round the corner as he approached the end of the corridor in case he glanced past his shoulder to see if he was being followed. When she continued behind him, she could see him tugging at his tie and collar as if he were being suffocated. She eyed him curiously as she studied his mannerisms, hoping it might give her some assistance for when she eventually confronted him.
She cursed under her breath as he ducked into the boy's lavatory, deciding it was the universe punishing her for forcing Harry and Ron into the girl's bathroom second year. Not to mention the time they rescued her from a troll their first year. Also in a girl's lavatory. Also her fault.
Yes, perhaps it was an overdue punishment.
As the distance between her and entrance to the bathroom drew to a close, she grew hesitant.
Relax, she told herself. It's just Malfoy.
But that in itself was the problem.
He hated her and everything she was. Too late to turn back now, she concluded as she forced herself to continue onward, breaching the entryway with hesitant steps.
Hermione steadied herself, keeping her ears alert.
Shuffling of fabric...an old, rusty knob to a faucet being turned...frantic breathing...water splashing.
She kept her back pressed against the wall as she got closer. Once she reached the edge, she stayed hidden as she took a quick glance into the room. He had removed his jumper and was hunched over the sink. When she briefly looked at his reflection in the mirror, she did not expect to see him so distraught.
So broken.
She certainly did not expect to hear the gut wrenching sobs suddenly being expelled from his throat. Hermione grimaced, refusing to let the sympathetic part of her become dominant before knowing the reason behind his tears.
As the adrenaline settled, logic came forcing its way back.
Hermione was often the one who thought things through. Always had a strategy in mind with an end in sight, and never willingly put herself in risky situations unless otherwise necessary. But as she stood here in the boys' lavatory with Draco Malfoy's back to her, she didn't have the faintest clue on what to do.
Part of her wanted to turn around and leave him be.
But she came for a reason and she needed answers.
It was now or never.
She took a deep breath to calm her nerves before turning the final corner. She was placed several feet away behind him before she hesitantly took a step forward.
"Malfoy?" she said softly. He hadn't heard her.
"Draco?" she tried again in the same hushed tone.
Instantly, he looked up from the sink to the mirror in a panic, focusing his eyes on her figure. He turned to face her, outwardly conflicted on what to do now knowing he was no longer alone. He decided to settle for the defensive tactic, instinctively grabbing his wand from his pocket, determination flashed in his scrutiny.
She almost rolled her eyes at him as she quickly reached for her own wand.
How predictable.
"Expelliarmus," she chanted effortlessly. His wand was jerked from his grip before landing in her left hand, her right still armed and taking aim. "Honestly, what is it with you men resorting to your wands for everything? Have you ever tried simple conversation?" she asked incredulously.
His eyes filled with manic and fear drew themselves back. His posture was fixed. As if he suddenly remembered who his company was. "What are you doing here, Mudblood?" he spat. "Last I checked, this was the boy's lavatory. Come to sneak a peek?" he sneered distastefully.
She hadn't flinched when he used the derogatory term. At this point, his usage of it was a given whenever she was given the displeasure of his unwanted presence. Still, Hermione was disgruntled when she lowered her wand. Not because of his crude words but because of his appearance.
Now that she was in close proximity, she could see his pristine grey eyes were now strained and sunken in. His pale complexion, once elegant and at times, charming, now made him appear ghastly. His shirt and trousers clung loosely to his figure. Somehow his uniform, branded and tailored to him, did not fit him anymore.
"What's happened to you?" she exhaled in a shaky breath. Instantly, she knew that wasn't the right thing to say when she saw him tense up. Hermione could tell he knew she was referring to his thinning and disheveled appearance. But something about his current state made her want to throw away all reason and remove any filters.
"Give me my wand," he demanded, but she maintained a firm grip on both of their wands.
"So you can hex me? Petrify me for someone to find like you did to Harry?" she asked, frowning.
"The tosser deserved it," he spat, venom spewing his words. "He was spying on me on the train! He—" he shut his eyes and took a deep breath, calming himself. "Look Granger, I really don't have time to deal with you and your bloody Gryffindor friends and I certainly do not have to explain myself to you. So if you don't mind—"
"Are you alright?" The words tumbled from her mouth before she could stop them. He narrowed his eyes in suspicion.
"What?"
Where's your Gryffindor bravery, Hermione?
"I asked if you were alright."
"Am I alright—?" he echoed tauntingly. "You're the brightest witch of our year, aren't you? Surely you can figure it out," he snapped harshly. She could tell he was only acting out his frustrations but that didn't deter her.
So she pressed.
"You're second behind me in all of our classes. Surely you know what I think," she quipped back.
"I think you're full of shit."
"Ever so eloquent," she teased, pressing harder. "Want to try something a little more advanced?"
"I think you're exceptionally full of shit."
"Oh come off it Malfoy, I'm trying to help you—"
"I don't need any help. Certainly not from you," he spat.
"Why? Afraid of accepting help from someone like me? A mudblood?" Testing the word on her tongue felt strange. What was even more strange to her was when she made out the faintest of a twitch in his eyes.
"I have no desire to accept help from someone who has little regard for the rules and gets pardoned for it all just because you're 'doing the right thing'."
"That's what you think?" she asked, appalled, as that was the furthest thing from the truth.
"You're part of the despicable 'Golden Trio,' are you not? The three of you have always been the exception to the rules."
"We are not immune to the rules or the repercussions of our actions, Malfoy. We endure the same consequences as everyone else."
"Such a pity you don't see what the rest of us see," Malfoy sniffed.
Hermione frowned, hesitating, and he fought an impatient sigh.
"So what? Does Potter get his underlings to do his dirty work when it gets to be too much for him?" he challenged.
She narrowed her eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"I take it he sent you here to interrogate me," he clarified bluntly.
If there was anything to admire about Malfoy, he made it explicitly clear how he felt.
Sometimes too clear.
"No, he didn't."
He scoffed, disbelief riddled in his demeanor.
"You're lying."
"No really, I saw you run off and I—" she froze as she realized she didn't have any good reasons to provide without admitting she wanted to prevent either of them from hurting each other.
She could already hear his taunting laugh as it had embedded in her mind over the years.
"I just wanted to make sure you were alright. That's all," she decided.
"You Gryffindors and your ridiculous morals," he spoke derisively. "I'm fine, Granger. Quit pressing."
"But you were upset just now," she sputtered. "You were literally just crying over the sink—"
"I've been under a lot of stress, what of it?" Malfoy protested. "School doesn't come easy to all of us." She had the impression he was as stubborn as they come. Unfortunately for him, so was she.
"Malfoy, when was the last time you slept—?" His eyes darkened dangerously. "Or ate a full meal?"
"Don't tell me you're worried about me, Granger. I might blush," he said wryly, passing her an arrogant smirk.
Was he...was he flirting with her?
No.
Hermione recognized the smirks and sneers he threw at her and her friends over the years. They were always intended to be taunting or menacing. This one was neither. This one was him trying to distract her. She could see it in his pleading eyes as he attempted to build a wall; a wall he desperately wanted between them as quickly as possible.
"How would your precious Weasley feel if he knew you were off getting worked up over another bloke? Or would he even notice?" His smirk only grew at her chagrin.
At his inquiry, Hermione was speechless. She hadn't realized he paid her all that much attention.
"Y-you're barking. How do you—?"
"Seriously? Anyone can see it, thus proving my point that the Weasel is truly as clueless as I thought."
"Don't talk about him like that," she said firmly.
He eyed her curiously.
"Why? Are you going to tell me I'm wrong?"
"Why do you act like this?" she asked, exasperated.
"I think I've made it very clear why, Granger."
"No, I know you act like a prat because you simply are an arrogant, spoiled, entitled, rotten, Pureblooded arse—"
"—rich, talented, devastatingly handsome," he supplemented.
"—but you're different this year."
His smirk fell.
"You're so guarded all the time. It's as if you're paranoid that something bad is going to happen at any moment. You've been this way since we started classes. I recognize school stress and I know for a fact that is not what this is. We're the furthest thing from friends and most of the time, I would love nothing more than to hex—" she paused, considering her approach. Throwing caution to the wind, she cleared her throat and let her next words come out without hindrance, "—but as a fellow classmate I am concerned for your health."
In truth, this was an entirely different direction she anticipated to go in since stepping foot into the lavatory. But now that she'd opened the doorway, she'd become invested.
Malfoy swallowed uncomfortably. "Your brilliance has always been the bane of my existence, Granger. In many more ways than one. It pains me to say that I'm surprised you haven't figured it out already—" her eyes flickered down to his left forearm which was still covered by his white oxford. A subtle act which did not go unnoticed by him.
He drew his lips into a thin line before continuing, "on second thought, maybe you have—" he spoke with a soft, eeriness Hermione had never heard from him before.
He shut his eyes as he took in a deep breath. She thought it was to cope with the fact that he'd basically confessed her suspicions of him and his allegiance. However, when he opened his eyes again, they were empty.
He had taken the time during her rant to his advantage. He challenged her to distract her, knowing she wouldn't be able to resist. And he had succeeded. The wall had been completely built. His eyes were completely void. Any glimpse of weakness was gone.
"Then we are done here," he said, emotionless.
That was it. He made it clear he was not interested in talking anymore. Hermione had failed. "No, I told you I'm not here because of Harry. That's not fair—"
"Life's not fair. And whoever said so is currently rolling around, laughing in his grave like a twat." He retorted.
"Everyone has a choice, Malfoy. You made yours explicitly all those years ago when you said we were the 'wrong sort'. I think it's only fair that you own up to that choice."
"Enlighten me, Granger," his voice lowered, a low rumble as he took a step towards her.
Shocked, she stumbled backwards. Hermione hadn't noticed they somehow made their way closer to each other during their confrontation. She wondered if he did. She began to back up to the wall when he continued to step forward.
He definitely noticed.
"Since you are under the pretense that one has the privilege of making these choices for oneself—"
She stumbled backwards.
"—and that one should be judged by the choices they openly made despite the circumstances—" he resumed, continuing to get closer.
"That's not what I—" she attempted to defend when her back touched the wall but he did not give any pause.
"—but what is one to do when they are simply not given an option?" Malfoy sneered. He now stood in front of her, peering down at her, making her hyper aware of the foot height difference between them.
For the first time in her life, Hermione Granger did not have an answer. She frowned as she contemplated his words. The wording was simple but the implication was there.
She suddenly had a feeling he was not talking about their childhood feud anymore.
Malfoy sighed dejectedly, reaching forward to take his wand easily from her slack hold. She didn't even bother fighting for it. There was no point.
"Do us a favor and stay far away from me, Granger. Don't follow me, quit your worrying and just make it easier for everyone," he commanded darkly before swiftly walking past her and out of the lavatory.
Her eyes stayed glued to the floor as she heard his retreating footsteps fade. Had she misjudged him? She shook away the thoughts, remembering where she was. She knew she would get in a great deal of trouble if a professor or another student found her in the boy's lavatory. Hermione began to make her exit as well as she processed the newfound knowledge.
She took her time walking down the corridor on her stroll back to the Great Hall, knowing Harry would be expecting answers. What was she to say? Nothing he already didn't suspect. That Draco Malfoy was likely a death eater and was definitely the one who hexed Katie Bell. She certainly couldn't confirm it. He was already teetering on the edge and this information would cause him to go absolutely ballistic.
She didn't even get Malfoy's reasoning for why. But had she ever really known why? She had always assumed his actions were due to him being naturally born and raised to be such, taking a presence as a bully for mere entertainment and acting out because of jealousy. Maybe it started out that way. But now everything was so...complicated.
Hermione found herself walking through the doorway to the Great Hall where she found Harry and Ron, apparently anxiously waiting for her return. Once they spotted her, their tense postures slouched with content when she appeared unharmed.
When she took her seat beside Ron, Harry wasted no time in breaking the ice.
"Oh good, I was getting really worried about you. So? Did he confess?" he asked.
"Nope, he threatened me. Called me 'Mudblood' a few times, said hateful things about you and sauntered off before I could ask anything," she said, effortlessly. It slightly intimidated her how easy it was for her to lie just now. She was never really known for being a good liar.
"Sounds like Malfoy to me," Ron remarked.
Harry groaned dejectedly, "I knew I should have gone after him, myself."
"Stop it, Harry. If you pursued him, it would have only ended horribly." Something fluttered in her chest at that statement. She was just in a room alone with Malfoy and managed a slightly-less-than-hostile conversation with him before coming out unscathed. She did not feel many muggleborns could share the same sentiment.
"I would've gotten answers at least. Whether we fought or not, it would have confirmed my suspicions," he argued.
Hermione opened her mouth to retort but Ron beat her to it. "She's got a point, you know. I'm not a fan of the git either but your...fascination with him this year has made you a little mad if I'm honest—" Ron grimaced and briefly glanced over to Hermione. Almost as if he were looking for confirmation. He exhaled before continuing.
"I also think you should get rid of that book. It's bad news, mate."
Her eyes widened. Did he just—
Harry, on the other hand, was crestfallen. "Yeah, you're probably right. It practically screams 'dark arts', doesn't it?" He sighed deeply. "I'll meet with Ginny later on and figure out what to do with it. I'm still curious as to what this 'sectumsempra' spell does though."
Hermione cast her gaze downwards at the spell written out in the reopened, tattered book. She noticed that it was captioned, 'for enemies'. Perhaps that was what he was. An 'enemy'. Even so, she did not feel comfortable letting Harry confront Malfoy. She did not lie when she claimed to not know of the spell. However, she was able to make an educated guess on what the spell could entail given the Latin terminology. She shuddered thinking her best friend could have easily resorted to a dark spell as such in the heat of the moment. Not that she could blame him when he was taught to behave defensively, especially now that Voldemort had returned.
Later that night, Harry and Ginny went to dispose of that cursed textbook. Hermione settled for going to bed, mind plagued with thoughts of a particular blond. Somewhere in her gut she knew; she saved Draco Malfoy from her very own best friend. The mere fact tugged at her chest but she didn't think the fact that she helped someone she was meant to hate was why. It was the fact that it felt something unfamiliar. She told herself it was merely sympathy. Or pity. At the end of the day, she had her friends to turn to while he was likely alone to deal with all the hardships of school and life. As far as she could tell, he never really had any true friends. He was clearly suffering and he needed someone now more than anything. Perhaps that was the unfamiliar part of it all. The part of her that wished he had let her in.
As she drifted to sleep, only one thought preoccupied her mind;
In the depths of those steely grey eyes before he threw his shields up, she saw a haunted mind, a broken soul. There was so much that he was withholding.