The Hidden Secrets
A Hermione/Draco Romance
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I am not JK Rowling, nor do I have anything to do with Harry Potter besides fanfiction. I am not making any money out of this story, and I am not worth suing.
AN: I've been trying to resurrect this story, so I apologize for this chapter being a bit different from the rest of the story, but I needed to give it an electric shock back into action. Any suggestions would be appreciated to continue the story!
Chapter 13
The school day started much the same, though with one exception. Hermione Granger wasn't shooting glances at Draco Malfoy, nor was she staring google-eyed at Ron, as though she were still unable to believe that he was back. Because neither of the two males in her life were there to watch. Malfoy had disappeared close to two-weeks earlier; only the Slytherin's knew where he'd gone, and they weren't liable to tell any outside their house. Especially not Servus, walking around with a constant smirk on his face.
Ron was still talking to Dumbledore about his classes, and catch-up classes. It made for an extremely tense morning. Hermione left the Prefect's common room with a sigh, and downcast eyes. She couldn't remember a time when she'd had a decent night's sleep… except for the couple of times she'd been with Draco… Malfoy, she corrected herself.
"Hermione, are you and Ron back together?" Lavender Brown asked, sidling up to Hermione as they both headed towards Transfiguration. Hermione shook her head, "No, we're not…. Now, would you mind getting the Hell out of my way?"
Lavender stopped, shocked suddenly, by the once-quiet girl's outburst. "Well…" she started, but Hermione ducked into the classroom before she could continue. Hermione took her seat near the front of the classroom, and ignored all those around her.
Lavender took her seat at the back, surrounded almost immediately by her friends, and wondered why her one-time good friend had become so snippy.
Professor McGonagall stood near the front of the classroom, and watched silently. This particular year group had touched her in a rather personal way… Ron, Hermione, and Harry, when he'd been there, were a lot like how James, Sirius, and Remus had been… without Peter, of course. She'd taken the disappearance of Ron and Harry to heart, and though she'd been shocked that Ron had found his way back, and all logic told her that the chances of Harry returning were slim to none, a small part of her held out hope that Harry would land on the doorstep of the school.
"Class," she began, bringing her thoughts away from the past. "We are in the phase of transfiguring…"
Hermione felt her concentration drifting away. In her mind, she was back in her study room, lying on her side on the transfigured bed, Draco (ahem, Malfoy! she corrected herself) curled up behind her. But then she'd say something, and it would be Ron lying behind her. But it was impossible to love two… was it not?
"Miss Granger?" McGonagall asked softly, snapping Hermione's head up. "Yes?" she asked, and McGonagall shook her head, sighing disappointedly. "As you are obviously not paying attention, is there someone here who can answer the question?" Hermione flushed scarlet, embarrassed; for the first time in her entire life she'd not known the answer to a classroom question, not known what the discussion was about.
The rest of the class progressed slowly, and at every moment she wanted nothing more than to escape back into her mind, but she forced herself to stay on task, and answered every question correctly after that. It was, for the first time, feeling like a chore to be in class. For as long as she could remember, school had been the only place where she'd been herself; class had been where she was in her element. She knew her mental capabilities, was confident in what she knew, and was never hesitant in showing she knew what she was doing.
The class ended, after what seemed like a small eternity, and Hermione was the first out of the door. She didn't stop to talk to any of the other girls her own age, nor did she turn around when McGonagall called after her.
She dumped her book bag on the closest couch in the common room, before standing back and looking around. The four loveseats looked empty, alone; the Slytherin couch heartbreaking, especially when the Gryffindor blanket lay folded over one arm.
Shaking her head, she walked past and into her study room. She couldn't bear to face the empty common room at the moment, anymore than she could face anyone in the school. A single thread of thought drifted through her mind, and although she tried her best to banish it, it refused to leave. She knew a way to deal with pain and confusion… she didn't need a party for an excuse. Besides, it would only be this once.
She grabbed her bag, and quickly counted the money she had on her. There was only one person she knew who would buy her the drinks and not ask questions…. With a sigh, she set out for the Hufflepuff common room. With luck, he'd be on a spare lesson.
Half an hour later, she walked into the Room of Requirement, a room she'd discovered by accident not too long after Harry and Ron had disappeared. The comfortable looking sofa sat by a window, though the curtains were drawn. Hermione sat her bag down gently, and walked to the sofa. She sat down softly, and opened the bottle she held in her hand. She didn't know what she had, nor did she care.
"Make sure it's the strongest stuff you've got," she said softly. Justin nodded, "All right… I've got Dragon's Breath left, and I think there's still some Fire Whiskey," he mumbled to himself as he pocketed her money. "I don't care; I just want to get wasted, ok?" Hermione added. Justin nodded absently, reaching into one of the cupboards near the fireplace. He handed her two bottles wrapped in brown paper bags. "It's the last of it… You won't need any more than this to get wasted… if you make it through both bottles, I'll be very surprised."
The lid unscrewed easily, and Hermione lifted the bottle to her lips. It almost felt as though she were watching the scene unfold. The liquor burned like pure fire as it went down, and she felt the effects almost immediately. Dimly, she realised that she was missing one of her classes, but didn't care. She didn't want school, she didn't want friends, she didn't want Draco… Malfoy… she didn't want Ron. She wanted… she didn't even know what she wanted. Sadly, she looked at her hands. Her right hand gripped the bottle tightly, as though she were afraid someone would take it off her. Even while she wished someone would.
Her head felt as though it were stuffed with cotton wool, her eyes felt like they were bulging from her head. With a grimace, she realised that the first bottle was empty. How long had she sat there? How long since classes had begun? Did she care? Or was she only telling herself that?
Lost in her thoughts, she vaguely remembered opening the second bottle, vaguely realised she was drinking it. Why did she miss Dra... Malfoy? He was only another notch in the bedpost... wasn't he? Ok, she admitted that he was a great notch, but she loved Ron. She'd always loved Ron. Always. Somehow, her bag was in her hand. Somehow, her medicine, the anti-depressants her mother had forced onto her during the holidays, the medicine she'd steadfastly ignored, left sitting in her bag, made their way into her hands. She remembered opening the bottle, remembered counting blindly. But all was dark soon after that, and she realised that she wanted school, wanted her friends, more than she wanted to live….
Draco looked around the common room. It felt almost strange to be back, after two weeks of fighting with his father. His mother… he wondered if he still claimed her any more… her advice had been to follow his father's instructions, and forget that there was a school called Hogwarts. He felt the side of his face unconsciously, remembering the sharp pain where she'd slapped him, where her nails had dug deep furrows into his cheek. He was taller than his mother now, and more than a little surprised that she'd dared to raise a hand to him.
The common room was empty, not surprisingly, since most everyone was in classes, except for the book bag sitting on the edge of the Slytherin couch. Frowning, he walked closer for a better look. If the sheer size of the bag wasn't a give-away, the small tag at the top of the bag was enough to identify its owner. Draco prided himself on always knowing details, and he knew that the book bag should have been with its owner, in a classroom, not sitting on the end of the couch. Where was Hermione?
He headed out into the corridor, and looked around, though to what point or purpose he couldn't have said. There was a tightness in his throat that he didn't recognise, a tightness that was steadily moving down his chest, constricting his breathing. Where was she?
He already knew the library was empty – he'd cut through there while looking for Dumbledore – and he was pretty much out of options. He started in the places he knew she used to drink a lot, hoping that maybe in a worst case scenario she'd be there. Three parties were raging, mostly people on spare breaks, with a couple of skippers thrown in, but no Hermione.
It was Seamus who confirmed Draco's worst fear; he admitted, after a little 'gentle' questioning, that he'd seen Hermione leave the Hufflepuff common room with two bottles sticking out of her bag. Draco sighed; he had Seamus up against a wall by his collar, and the shorter boy was barely touching the floor with his toes. He let go of Seamus' collar, and the boy slumped to the floor, before climbing to his feet hurriedly.
Draco didn't even notice his leaving. He turned, and began to head to the towers to continue his search, when he realised someone was watching him. He looked over his shoulder, only to see Ron watching him closely. There was no frown, or happy look either, only a flat stare that made the Slytherin feel oddly uncomfortable.
They continued to stare at one another until Ron broke the silence. "Why do you worry so much about Hermione? She's just a Mudblood to you, isn't she?" Draco's expression didn't change, but he felt the embarrassment creeping up inside of him. Years of training meant nothing showed on his face, yet his eyes flashed angrily. Before he could say anything, though, Ron continued.
"Did you both think that you could keep it from me? That Hermione had been with you?" Ron's voice was as flat as his stare… he could have been stating something about the weather for all the emotion his voice held. Draco barely concealed the emotions from his face. "It wasn't my secret to tell," he snapped, momentarily cursing Hermione for leaving him to deal with this, and not telling her friend, boyfriend, ex, whatever he was.
Ron didn't seem to hear. "What have you done with her, Malfoy? She wasn't in class, and no one has seen her. Where is she?" Draco didn't bother to hold back his anger, stalking up until he was almost nose-to-nose with the taller Griffindor. "I don't know where she is, Weasle; if you hadn't noticed, I haven't been here for the last two weeks. And if I'm worried, then it's my business."
Ron nodded, as though satisfied. "Well, does your business include finding her?" Draco stepped back, somewhat surprised that Weasley hadn't tried to deck him when he didn't back up. He watched for any signs of jest, or sarcasm, and when none came he nodded. "Yes, it does."
"Good. Because I'd hate to hurt you," Ron added, pulling a faded parchment from his pocket. "If anyone hears of this, Malfoy, don't think that I won't hurt you." At Draco's nod, Ron opened the parchment and whispered words too soft for Draco to hear. "This is the Marauder's Map."
A/N: Ok, so I'm slowly and steadily getting back into this writing thing :) Any suggestions would be appreciated! As always, please R&R
