For Hermione, the hardest part of the next few hours was watching Draco
suffer. He did not cry, but his eyes were glazed and tired, and he stood
stooped over from the day's exhaustion.
Dumbledore, thankfully, did not send him home.
"A young man in his condition needs some one to take care of him," Dumbledore said, his voice a strange mixture of empathy and tension. "Ms. Granger, would you take him to his dorm. I think he has it mostly to himself, but would you mind clearing the other students out. I think he needs his rest."
"Of course, Professor," Hermione answered, shocked that Dumbledore would allow her in the Slytherin common room. She walked Draco there, not really knowing where she was going. He leaned heavily on her shoulder, the weight of the day seeming to press upon him, making his thin shoulders burdened and slumped.
He walked through the common room as though in a daze, laying his hand on the wall to steady himself. Hermione followed him up to his dorm, helped him into a soft white shirt, and insisted he go to bed. He crawled onto the covers, seeming to her so small and lost in the blankets' folds of black and green. She sat on the bed across from his and looked at him, his eyes turned to the ceiling, his face barely lit by the bedside light.
"Come here," he said, his voice tight and drawn. Hermione came closer, almost wary of him. "Sit with me," he said when she reached his side, and she had no desire to tell him no. He looked especially frail in the candle light, and she knew how much he needed her.
She climbed onto the bed next to him, twining her fingers with his. His head fell heavily onto her shoulder, his chest heaving with silent sobs.
"She didn't deserve that," he said, his voice choked with the sound of tears.
"No, no she didn't," Hermione whispered, trying to not cry as well. His voice made her heart break.
"I still can't believe any of this... I can't believe I did that. I sunk to his level. I never thought of myself... as the sort of person who could do something like that," he cried. He struggled almost physically with his own thoughts, the idea that he was the same as his father.
Hermione wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly.
"I never thought of you as the sort of person to cry," she answered softly. "We're all wrong sometimes."
Draco felt enraged, confused, betrayed, and let out his emotions the only way he knew. Grabbing Hermione roughly by both shoulders, he kissed her. It was the most loving, angry, passionate kiss she could have ever imagined, and it left her reeling. It was the most bizarre feeling she'd ever experienced; a sort of infusion of all the horrid things he must have been feeling, all expressed as a passion. She looked at him, his faced streaked and his eyes shinning with tears, and knew that the only thing she could do for him now was to kiss him back.
Dumbledore, thankfully, did not send him home.
"A young man in his condition needs some one to take care of him," Dumbledore said, his voice a strange mixture of empathy and tension. "Ms. Granger, would you take him to his dorm. I think he has it mostly to himself, but would you mind clearing the other students out. I think he needs his rest."
"Of course, Professor," Hermione answered, shocked that Dumbledore would allow her in the Slytherin common room. She walked Draco there, not really knowing where she was going. He leaned heavily on her shoulder, the weight of the day seeming to press upon him, making his thin shoulders burdened and slumped.
He walked through the common room as though in a daze, laying his hand on the wall to steady himself. Hermione followed him up to his dorm, helped him into a soft white shirt, and insisted he go to bed. He crawled onto the covers, seeming to her so small and lost in the blankets' folds of black and green. She sat on the bed across from his and looked at him, his eyes turned to the ceiling, his face barely lit by the bedside light.
"Come here," he said, his voice tight and drawn. Hermione came closer, almost wary of him. "Sit with me," he said when she reached his side, and she had no desire to tell him no. He looked especially frail in the candle light, and she knew how much he needed her.
She climbed onto the bed next to him, twining her fingers with his. His head fell heavily onto her shoulder, his chest heaving with silent sobs.
"She didn't deserve that," he said, his voice choked with the sound of tears.
"No, no she didn't," Hermione whispered, trying to not cry as well. His voice made her heart break.
"I still can't believe any of this... I can't believe I did that. I sunk to his level. I never thought of myself... as the sort of person who could do something like that," he cried. He struggled almost physically with his own thoughts, the idea that he was the same as his father.
Hermione wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly.
"I never thought of you as the sort of person to cry," she answered softly. "We're all wrong sometimes."
Draco felt enraged, confused, betrayed, and let out his emotions the only way he knew. Grabbing Hermione roughly by both shoulders, he kissed her. It was the most loving, angry, passionate kiss she could have ever imagined, and it left her reeling. It was the most bizarre feeling she'd ever experienced; a sort of infusion of all the horrid things he must have been feeling, all expressed as a passion. She looked at him, his faced streaked and his eyes shinning with tears, and knew that the only thing she could do for him now was to kiss him back.