No more installments after this until I get some feekback...
Chapter Four
A soft knock on the door broke her train of thought. Hermione didn't turn around to see who had entered the room until she heard the soft voice calling to her.
"Mum?" Evelyn asked as she took a step into the room. Hermione turned around and smiled at her daughter, motioning for her to come and sit by her. Evelyn crossed the room and took a seat by the empty chair next to her.
"What are you doing?" she asked curiously.
"Just thinking," Hermione replied whimsically.
"Are you thinking about daddy again?" Evelyn asked.
Hermione nodded as the smile on her face faded to sadness. Evelyn knew better than to ask when she already knew the answer. That was one of the many things her mother had taught her.
She had heard the story of her father many times. It used to be her bed night story when she was much younger. She had never met him, but had once believed just like Hermione that he would come home to her. That was long ago when the war was still amidst. When she grew out of her pretty frilly dresses and pink ribbons, she also grew out of that fantasy. It had broken Hermione heart the first time she had stated that he wasn't coming back, that she had stopped believing.
"Did I ever tell you about the time he had saved my life from drowning?" Hermione asked hopefully. She missed the days when Evelyn used to believe. She missed how big-eyed she would get when hearing one of their stories.
"Yes, you have, mum. Many times," she answered back sympathetically.
"Did I ever tell you why?" Hermione asked.
Evelyn smiled sadly at her mother. She gently patted her on the leg and stood up, making her way to the door. As she began to close it, she stopped and turned back to her.
"Because he loved you mum, because he loved you." She said in a light whisper and left.
Hermione turned back to the window and sighed.
"I meant why I was drowning."
Hermione sputtered and coughed the last bit of water caught in her lungs. Her body trembled as a wave of realization hit her.
"What are you doing out here?" she asked.
"I saw you running through the hall and out the door so I followed you," Draco snapped annoyed. As far as he was concerned, she was in no situation to be asking the questions.
"Why did you save me?" Hermione continued as if his answer meant nothing.
Draco looked at her mildly stunned. "What was I supposed to do? Let you drown?" he practically yelled.
A single tear escaped from Hermione's already burning eyes.
"Yes!" she shot out painfully. Her head began screaming at how everything was ruined. He was sure to run off to a teacher now and tell them everything. They'd send her to one of those places they ship off suicidal maniacs to.
However, he didn't run off. He didn't spill the event to the nearest person. Instead, Draco sat beside her completely still and silent. Hermione looked at him and saw something in his demeanor that she had never seen before.
She didn't know what it was, and she didn't like it too much.
"You actually wanted to drown?" Draco asked after an eternity of silence.
Hermione nodded slightly.
"Why?"
She didn't answer, and found herself curling into a small ball. She was so ashamed. She wanted to give up her life and she couldn't explain why. People would kill to live the life she had. Hermione was the top student at school, a brilliant witch, and had friends worth dieing for. Yet she preferred death.
To her it wasn't so much a question of why she wanted to die, but a question of why she wanted to live. When she debated the pros and cons like the logical thinker she was, no answer came to mind. Like there was logic in this sort of debate in the first place.
Hermione began to cry. The emotions inside of her had built up to a point she could no longer control. Draco gathered her into his arms with no hesitation. He began running his fingers, to the best of his ability, through her soaking wet mop of hair.
No more questions were asked. No more presumptions were made. There they sat, on the bank of the lake, together with no hostility for the first time since they had known each other. One was a girl torn up inside, who had everything and nothing at all. The other was the boy holding her, seeking the same thing she was without even knowing it.
Not one other person in the castle behind them even sensed their absence.
It would have appeared that Draco was walking Hermione to her room, had they not been the head boy and girl and shared the same living quarters. The corridors were silent, dark, and void of any other life. The emptiness created a sort of awkwardness between the couple. Every now and then Draco would sneak a peak at Hermione, only to find the same blank expression each and every single time. He felt as if he should say something, but felt at a loss as to what he should say.
Reaching the painting that protected their rooms, Draco muttered the password and motioned for Hermione to go in first. They were greeted with warmth and the calm sound of a crackling fire slowly dieing down.
"Well, I guess I'll be off to bed then," Hermione said monotonously. To be blunt, she didn't know how to react to this situation. She had just been saved from a near death experience; most would be grateful to be breathing, yet she was as empty as ever. Without another word, she turned and headed to her room.
"You will be in class tomorrow?" Draco asked. He feared she would try to pull something in the middle of the night. Nothing was really stopping her. Hermione sighed and continued to walk to her room.
"I suppose," she said rather dejectedly.
"Promise?"
She paused in mid-step and turned slowly to him. Her eyes showed exhaustion and her words hinted annoyance as she spoke.
"What does it matter to you, Malfoy?" Hermione asked.
"It doesn't," Draco said pointedly. "But I just spent half my night holding a sobbing girl in my arms that I just jumped into a lake to save. I don't want that to go to waste when I find her dead in her room the next morning."
Hermione rolled her eyes, almost laughing to herself at the expected statement. Shaking her head slightly, she closed her eyes and rubbed the headache beginning to form between them.
"I promise," she finally said and left the room.
For some odd reason Draco felt compelled to follow her. He really didn't want to leave her alone tonight, and that bothered him to no end. Instead, he drug his worn out body to him own room and flung himself into bed. Falling fast asleep, the last image that clouded his mind was the set of her tearful eyes.
And for the first time he actually cared.
Light. Pain. Agony.
It all spilled into her room at the same time as the swishing of curtains woke Hermione from her sleep.
"Bloody hell," she groaned, using her pillow as a weapon to shield her from the harsh rays of morning.
"Language," Draco Malfoy tisked as he brushed past her bed to the near empty closet alongside the opposite wall. With a flick of his wrist he opened the doors, unsurprised by the vast appearance of clothing choice. He grabbed the one and only outfit, a school uniform, and tossed it on Hermione's bed.
"So you're my nanny now are you?" Hermione asked baffled, still fighting the mixture of dizziness, pain, and drowsiness swimming in her head.
Draco made no attempt to find amusement in the question.
"You made a promise, now get up," he said without enthusiasm and left her room, nearly slamming the door shut. It was as if Hermione was seven and he had to see her off to the bus stop on time. In some alternate universe one could call it cute, to Hermione it was belittling and condescending. She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest in a proud manner. However, seeing as her point would get across to no one, being that there was no one else in the room, she declined her urge to fight back and tenderly wiggled her way out of bed.
She dressed herself in her disheveled uniform and didn't bother to use her wand to smooth out any wrinkles. Barely brushing her hair, she performed her routine morning tasks of freshening up. Looking in the mirror for the first time she jumped a little, startled by the reflection gazing back.
Her eyes were hollow and sunken in, accompanied by dark underlines that reminded her of people who had experiences they wish didn't exist. People like Professor Snape. Hermione shook her head, trying in earnest to erase the mental picture of the professor's eyes, eroded throughout time by the things he had seen that should not have been seen by anyone.
She contemplated outlining her vacant features with the black eye liner she had grown to like in a sadistic way. However, her headache was still pounding and she longed to be out as quickly as possible. Skipping the make up, she threw her bag over her shoulder and sped out of the room.
"You're welcome," Draco drawled from the couch across the common area. He looked placid and comfortable, as if the first class' bell from five minutes ago didn't affect him at all.
"Are you not coming?" Hermione asked. At this point she half expected him to walk her to her classes.
"I have business to attend to," Draco said pointedly. Figuring that to be the extent of the day's conversation, Hermione adjusted her satchel on her shoulder and left.
As soon as she evacuated her presence, Draco rose from his seated position and walked to the fireplace, grabbing something from his pocket. Opening the small bag, he threw a pinch of its contents into the flames. After a hissing sound and a vibrant green light emitted, he took a step in the fireplace.
"Bridgington Manor!" he stated clearly and firmly. In a flash, he was gone and the ashes of the fire soon floated down to their normal establishment.