"A private matter, huh?" Ron said. The boys were sitting in the comfortable armchairs near the fire of their common room, playing a game of wizard chess.
"D'you reckon where Hermione is?" Harry asked.
"How would I know?" Ron asked with a shrug. "And why should I care?" He quickly added, as if Harry needed to be reminded that he was mad. Well, maybe Ron needed to remind himself. Maybe he was missing Hermione too. But they weren't on speaking terms at the moment, and he wasn't about to make the first move.
Harry thought Ron got a point — Crookshanks did eat Scabbers. Yet, it didn't change the way he felt about this unfortunate situation; miserable. He just wanted his bestfriends to get along, to tell them all of this at the same time, to brainstorm together.
Harry had a funny feeling since his meeting with Draco outside Lupin's office. What he heard hit him a bit too hard, maybe. Relating to Draco Malfoy was incredibly weird, upsetting really, and yet at the same time exciting… he couldn't explain it. He didn't even know what his discussion with Lupin had been all about, he could only wonder, dissect theories after theories. But there was nothing. Nothing that could explain how his enemy might understand that pesky, noisy, part of him better than his own best friends. Draco Malfoy was prey to doubts, to fear, to his own sort of destiny. He needed to talk to Hermione about what he heard. She was usually more level headed than Ron when it came to Malfoy.
"I thought she might find all of this interesting," Harry said prudently, getting a nasty glance from his friend. He didn't want to fight with Ron, not because of what happened, certainly not because of Malfoy, and even less because of Hermione; it would be too sad.
"She doesn't need to find it interesting," Ron mumbled, "It's so obvious what's going on, she doesn't need to be told anything. If she was that good of a friend anyway, she would have told us anything she knew too. But she'd rather keep secrets and let her demon loose, free to eat everybody's pets."
"I don't think Crookshanks's eaten any oth —" Harry got the hint from Ron's stare. "But you're right… I don't understand why she doesn't tell us."
"D'you think it might be something that'd get him expelled? All the more reasons to tell us… So if she doesn't… It means it's really serious."
"I mean… Lupin said Draco wanted to die… That he was alone, miserable… And he talked about hurting his parents, but it still doesn't tell us how. You saw his Boggart, it didn't make sense."
"D'you think it's about You-Know-Who?" Ron asked. They knew his family had been very close to Voldemort during the First War. Arthur Weasley wouldn't change his mind; Lucius Malfoy wasn't bewitched at the time. But what connection to Voldemort could Draco have that could hurt his parents? Unless it was the opposite? Unless he wanted out? Probably not, his behavior their first two years of school didn't show anything of the sort.
Harry lost the game of chess. He told himself it was because he was too unfocused, but he just wasn't on Ron's level yet and he knew it. That's only when they were done putting everything away that he excused himself, telling Ron he would go and look for Hermione to try and get some information.
Harry entered the corridor leading to the library when he suddenly came to a stop. On the very opposite side of the hallway was Pansy Parkinson. Alone, they had both stopped and were staring at each other before they approached the door in the middle of the corridor. Pansy hurried in first, quickly followed by Harry. He was hoping Pansy wouldn't notice Hermione if she was there, he didn't want her to be mean to his friend. Hermione was on the verge of tears and he didn't need to spend too much time with her to notice it. And if Pansy managed to make her cry, Harry knew she would gloat about it, especially to Malfoy.
He followed her close and when she came to a sudden halt again, Harry collided with her. Pansy managed to stay quiet, grabbing the shelf in front of her so she wouldn't fall, before she looked at Harry and quickly shushed him with a finger on her lips. Harry frowned. While he hadn't pushed her on purpose, he didn't understand why she wasn't retaliating. He decided to ignore her and walk past her but when he did, she grabbed his arm and pulled him back. When he was about to ask what was her deal, she insisted he kept quiet by putting her finger back on her lips. That's when he heard it. A quiet giggle . Harry hadn't noticed the voices before, they were trying to stay hushed, but Pansy did. She had recognized Draco, and Harry recognized Hermione.
At that point, they immediately started working together. They approached the shelf they were hiding behind, grabbing each other as they tried to catch a glimpse of the unlikely duo. While they were silently pushing each other to try and have the best point of view, they were also pulling each other to make sure they were hidden. They also shared the same stunned expression, their incomprehension on their faces, and disgust in their eyes.
"How long have you known Professor Snape anyway?" Hermione asked him. At that point, it appeared that Draco was visibly amused by something. He tilted his head to the side, his usual air of arrogance painted on his face. He was clearly proud of something and the way Hermione was looking at him displeased Harry. He couldn't read her face, but she didn't seem annoyed, not the way she had laughed.
"My whole life," he simply said, a smirk appearing as he detailed Hermione's face. Her reddened eyes and untidy hair didn't remove anything from her appearance. Draco regretted his thought immediately but at the same time, he couldn't outright lie to himself. Lately, he had been coming to the library to see her, and to see her only. Having her notice him and still sit at the same table showed him that there was something there, an interest that even her bad day couldn't shake. "He met my father when they were studying here, actually. "
Hermione found it weird. Draco had known Snape when he was a kid. A baby, even. When Snape himself was in his early-twenties. Hard to imagine. As flashes of made up memories between Draco and Snape appeared to her mind, she raised her eyebrows at Draco. "That certainly explains a lot."
Draco's smile grew wider, "Does it, now?" He felt oddly satisfied when she smiled.
"The way he favors you, for example…"
"It never crossed your mind that I might just be that good at Potions?" Draco asked. She stared for a minute. Would Snape really describe Draco's potions as "perfect" if he wasn't favoring his House and a boy he had known ever since he was born? She shook her head and Draco had to clasp a hand on his mouth so he could muffle his guffaw of genuine hilarity. "Well, why don't you tell him then? 'Cause he taught me everything I know, I'm not sure he'll like that very much…"
"Before Hogwarts?" Hermione asked quietly, unable to keep her curiosity to herself.
"What's that?"
"He taught you before Hogwarts?"
Draco didn't answer right away. He stared, curious too, curious about her, curious about what it'd be like to sit next to her, curious about what he'd feel like, replacing the strand of hair that had just fallen in front of her eyes behind her ear. She did so and Draco looked down at her book as he nodded his answer, afraid she might be able to hear his thoughts.
"Wait, you can't be serious," he then said with a frown. He leaned forward, stretched his arm across the table so that he could pull her book towards him with the tip of his fingers. "Muggle Studies? Really?" He seemed flabbergasted and it only amused Hermione more. "Why on earth would you take that class? Don't you know everything there is to know about them?"
"I'll let you know that it's a very interesting class," she shrugged, trying to disregard what she thought would come next if they talked too much about Muggles.
"No it's not," he continued, leaning back on his chair again, "it's an easy pass."
"Oh, is that why you didn't pick it?" She asked, herself leaning forward. Harry's eyes widened. Was she teasing him? "Do you like a challenge, Malfoy?"
"Don't you?" He said in huffed tones. To Pansy and Harry, he sounded almost breathless.
"Hermione," Harry said rather coldly, getting away from Pansy's grip.
Both Hermione and Draco were startled by his arrival. It was clear to Harry that Draco wasn't as relaxed as he was a second ago, and he saw his cold expression regain its place on his face. And as he finally focused on Hermione, Harry didn't notice that Draco's gaze was also drifting back to her to examine her expression, her justifications. Draco was just as surprised as when Harry had come out from behind the shelf when she answered.
"What do you want?" Hermione asked sharply. Did something happen between Granger and her friends? Was that the reason she had cried? Was that why she was mostly alone, if it wasn't for Weasley's sister?
"Talk to you, can we?" Harry asked, already sounding more prudent that before, scared that Hermione would suddenly start shouting at him.
"Now?" Hermione asked. Harry glanced at Draco again to make him understand that he should leave. Malfoy didn't stare back and Harry frowned when he noticed the way he was looking at Hermione. He couldn't read his face, but what was his problem anyway?
"I don't know what you're playing at," Harry told Draco, "but I'll advise you to go, now."
Draco turned to Harry, visibly amused, and Hermione herself was about to chime in when Pansy came out of her hiding place too.
"Pansy," Draco said quickly, suddenly looking very surprised and tense.
"Professor Snape's looking for you," she said, only looking at her best friend.
Draco slightly frowned. It took a second and then a thought struck him. He jumped on his feet, pushed his belongings in his bags before he hurried outside with Pansy.
Only then did Harry approach Hermione. He sat down next to her while she seemed to be going back to her book.
"Now that he's gone, we can talk, right?" He asked.
"I was asking because I'm working," she corrected him, "not because he was here." But maybe that was a lie. She didn't even know anymore. "This better be important."
He was surprised that she accepted to listen to him in the end. She did seem in a slightly better mood than she had been all week and Harry couldn't help but wonder if it was thanks to Draco. It was wrong. The thought of it made him sick to his stomach. Yet, he didn't say anything. He wanted to comment about what he had witnessed, he wanted to remind her that she wasn't working, when he arrived, but he didn't. First, he needed to give her some context.
.
"I told him you were working but he insisted on seeing you," Pansy said. They had walked silently, Draco very uncomfortable. Pansy still hadn't mentioned what she had seen and it was still weirding him out. How long had she been there? They were now getting down the steps to the Entrance Hall.
"I forgot I was s'pposed to go see him," Draco mumbled, making sure he didn't break and look at her. Crazy, he had forgotten about his potion. He thought about it all day, until Hermione stepped in the library.
"How come you forgot?" Pansy asked, as if reading his thoughts. "It seemed very important, he insisted that it couldn't wait."
"It slipped my mind," Draco dismissed the matter with a vague hand gesture.
"I see. It slipped your mind," she repeated in a curious tone Draco knew too well. He stopped in his tracks. She did the same, slowly turning to him. Their eyes met and she tilted her head, hands behind her back. "What?" She asked innocently.
"What are you implying?" Draco asked sharply. Crazy how the mood between the two could shift. Both always alert, both too ready to justify or defend themselves when they were afraid the other thought less of them. Unhealthy dynamic, probably, but they both had their reasons.
"That some things slip your mind easily, sometimes…"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I'm pretty sure you know more about it than I do."
"Come off it," Draco said, annoyed, "it's not funny."
"It's not, is it?" Pansy asked and he could hear the coldness in her voice and see the judgment in her eyes.
"Alright, fine. What do you want?" He asked, easily able to conceal the nervousness growing in his stomach.
"Me? Do I want something, Draco?" They started into each other's eyes but neither wanted to say out loud what it was all about. And she knew him. As much as she admired him, as much as she cared for him and no matter how high her esteem of him was, Draco had the bad habit of running away from his problems, and she couldn't deny the cowardice. "You better get a move on."
"We're not done," He said coolly. She simply stepped on the side so he could walk down towards the entrance to the dungeons. She didn't turn when he walked past her, she only listened to his steps on the cold steps leading down the castle.
.
Even if decided to talk about what he had just witnessed, Harry started with why he came in the library in the first place. He told her about Draco and Lupin, about the discussion he spied on. He saw Hermione's expression change all along his account, going from curious glances to the usual frown she had when thinking hard about something.
"It sounds like he's considering leaving his parents or something," Harry said, "because of those dreams, and the fact that he's afraid he'll hurt them. Ron thought maybe it's got something to do with Voldemort,"— Hermione shuddered —"we thought… what if he wants out? But it's far-fetched, don't you think?"
Yet not as far-fetched as one might think, Hermione told herself. She frowned, wondering if there was a real dissonance between Draco and his parents, because of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. After all, his parents kept him in in spite of his condition… while they had their beliefs, were they completely loyal to their so called Dark Lord? And since he had tried to come back in the past, what would happen if he ever succeeded? Would Draco's parents join his side again? Would they abandon Draco? Would he have to serve him? If his parents were discussing bringing him back… Hermione could understand Ron and Harry's reasoning, but she knew better, and the mere thought of Draco's fears weighted on her stomach.
"And, there's something else," Harry continued, seeing how Hermione wasn't giving him any answer. He got her attention right away, maybe because of how disturbed he sounded. "Just after Malfoy talked about leaving his parents… Lupin said that Malfoy was afraid of who he might become… And that if he became what he's afraid of being like, he'd be all alone. That people would leave him, or that he'd hurt them, basically that he'd scare them away. He said that because of that, Malfoy's already pushing everyone away, and that… Well… He mentioned something Malfoy told him…"
"Harry, what is it?" Hermione whispered.
Harry met her eyes, still hesitant, but he had to spit it out. "That every day, he wanted to die…"
No matter her reactions during his recounting of the events, Harry didn't think he would ever see Hermione so distraught for Draco Malfoy as she was now. She grabbed at his arm, clasping her other hand on her mouth and she shook her head, horrified.
"Oh, Harry!" She tried to keep her voice down but her shock was getting the upper hand. "Oh, no, Harry, you should have never told me this," she continued, her hands now on her head. "This is so incredibly private… You should have never listened to that conversation!"
"I know, I know," Harry said quietly, grabbing her wrists, then her hands. He did seem a bit shocked too, as the real weigh of those words was now pressing on his mind. "I couldn't help it… I obviously didn't think they'd talk about that kind of stuff…" Hermione was still shaking her head, eyes closed. "But, you know, Lupin told him that he was there for him, as well as his parents, and even Snape," he said, wanting to reassure her.
"And what good will that do?" She said, getting up and out of his grip. He let her pace for a minute, she needed to gather her thoughts and calm down. She sat back down after a moment.
"Lupin's right, Harry, maybe it's nothing you ought to know…"
"Aren't you saying that only because you know what it's all about?"
She gazed at him, indecisive. She couldn't reveal his secret, could she? No. No, she couldn't. She couldn't put Draco in any more danger.
"Look, Harry —"
"No, it's fine," he interjected. He didn't want to hear justifications. Given how serious the matter seemed to be, he could understand that she was keeping his secret. Yet, there was this anger growing in the pit of his stomach. Yes, Malfoy was suffering, and had some dark secret that might be the source of his pain, but it didn't give him the right to be a slimy little brat with everybody else. How could she look the other way? How could she look his direction the way she had when they were talking? How could she even talk to him the way she was? He didn't deserve it. Harry couldn't understand. "It's fine that you don't tell me, I guess. You don't want to tell your friends what's going on with Draco Malfoy, well, whatever. What annoys me, really, Hermione… It's that you're becoming his friend, now."
Hermione looked as if she had just heard the most absurd thing that could have ever come out of Harry's mouth. "We're not friends, Harry, we were just talking."
"And since when do you talk to him ? No, better yet, with him? I heard you laugh, and I'm pretty sure it wasn't my imagination." He was looking at her right in the eye, expecting a straight answer. She took her time, the words burning her lips, desesperately wanting to come out. But she knew how harsh she'd sound. And yet, she couldn't help it this time.
"Since he's been nicer with me than Ron is, and that's saying a lot, Harry." She closed her book, stood up and started to put her things in her bag. Madam Pince was coming their way, they could hear her, and it was best if they just left on their own at that point. Still stunned by her words, Harry followed prompt. She was walking fast and, once in the hallway, Harry put his hand on her arm.
"Wait, Hermione, just —"
"I've had enough," she said, suddenly turning to him, her eyes filled with tears. That was the last thing Harry wanted to happen. "I can't take it anymore. I can't take Ron's mood, I can't take your reproaches, I can't take —" she caught herself before she could let anything else slip out.
"I'm just trying to understand, Hermione. You're my friend, I don't want him to hurt you. What if he's just manipulating you? You know he's not nice with anyone, not even his friends. Why would he be nice with you after everything he's done?"
"I'm tired, Harry," Hermione simply said quietly. "I'm tired of fighting with you two. I don't want to fight anymore."
"I don't want to either. We're not fighting… I'm just… worried for you," Harry confessed. "It's Malfoy. Out of all people, it's Malfoy… And suddenly, he's just being nice?"
"It wasn't suddenly," Hermione said, quickly wiping her cheek. Harry frowned.
"You guys have been… talking for a while?" He asked prudently. He hadn't noticed a lot of changed in Malfoy's behavior towards them, even if he seemed slightly less annoying that usual that year. But he didn't know if it had anything to do with Hermione, or everything to do with what made him so depressed.
"We're not friends, I've told you," Hermione said, her own words saddening her heart. She sniffed, trying to regain some sort of composure.
Harry slowly walked towards a stone bench and sat down, his back against the wall, a heavy sigh leaving his lips. Hermione approached and placed her bag next to her as she sat down.
"Look, I'm sorry," she said, "I know I can be a pain too, especially lately. But it doesn't make me… It doesn't impair my judgment."
Harry's lips twitched and he shrugged, "I remember someone called Gilderoy Lock—" she hit his arm and Harry chuckled. "You know I'm just scared that he's trying to manipulate you. I'm sure he can play a very, very long game if he wants to."
"You said it yourself, you're doubting his loyalties. If you're ready to believe he's thinking about going against his parents' beliefs, or whatever the reason he said these things might be…" Harry shot her a glance but he knew she wouldn't reveal anything. "Why is it so hard to imagine that he's trying to change?"
"Has he told you he was trying to change?"
"Why would he?"
"You guys talk, you know his secret… I'd like to think he at least apologized to you."
Hermione bit her lip guiltily.
"He hasn't," she sighed. Harry shot her a worried look. "Yes, we've talked a few times but… It's not like he knows I know."
"Then I really don't get it," Harry said as he stood up, frustrated. "How can you trust him? Why is it so important to you to think he's genuinely nice?"
"It just is," Hermione said, probably too obviously flustered.
"When did it start?"
Hermione looked down. "Towards the beginning of the year…"
"What?" Harry exclaimed.
"Look, I was curious! After what happened at the feast, and… He looked so sick. You know witches and wizards don't just catch colds or anything. So I tried to talk to him, to learn more about what was going on. I made… small talk. He wasn't very cooperative, we've only been truly talking since Christmas. When we're in the library… When I'm alone, and he's alone, he's not…"
"It's not like he'd talk to you in public. Did you see his face when I arrived? You don't deserve to make friends with people who get embarrassed to be seen with you."
"I know that," Hermione said quietly, touched by Harry's concern, even if it also came from a place of hatred. "I know what I'm doing, Harry. If anything starts looking fishy, I'll get out of this whole thing. Besides, it's not like I was hoping to be his friend. I'm not trying to replace you, or Ron. You know that."
"Yes, I do," Harry let out reluctantly. He knew he couldn't convince her to stop talking to him. He was so weirded out by this. He just thought he really needed to convince Ron to make peace with her. She must have felt really lonely, to be talking to Draco Malfoy out of simple curiosity.
"Let's not talk about it again," Hermione said, getting up too and grabbing her bag, "we've just talked a few times."
She shot a look at Harry. "It's unimportant."
For once, Harry wasn't entirely convinced by her matter-of-factly tone.
.
Draco came back to his common room after taking his potion, in order to leave his bag there before the feast. He was surprised to find Pansy sitting on one of the high chairs near the fire. He thought she'd be waiting for him near the Great Hall, or that she was already inside.
She waited when he went to his dormitory, and when he came back out, she was up and ready to go. They left the common room together, walking in the damp corridors of the dungeons.
"So?" Draco finally said. They were already reaching the steps towards the entrance and she didn't seem to be about to say anything to him. Snape had been unusually cold to him, and Draco had managed to escape any question about his lateness. He wasn't about to get a silent treatment from Pansy too. "Get a move on," he spat.
"We should just go to the feast, Draco," Pansy said. Her coldness was gone, her reproaches too. He frowned and stopped on the spot but Pansy didn't. She started climbing the stairs and he called after her.
"You can't be serious," he said, but she still didn't stop and Draco felt his annoyance burn up his cheeks. "What the hell Parkinson?"
He hurried up the stairs too and once he reached her, in the Entrance Hall, he grabbed her wrist, pulling on her arm so she would turn to him.
"Wait!"
"Draco! Let go," she said, taken aback and pulling her arm towards her. Draco immediately let go, realizing the tightness of his grip, the brutality of his actions. Pansy had her hand on her wrist, her fingers softly rubbing it, a look of concern on her face as she glanced at Draco. He opened his mouth but no words came out, no matter the apology he wanted to make.
"Look," Pansy finally said. He closed his mouth, ready to listen attentively to anything she might say. But she was clearly hesitant. She didn't know if Draco was truly oblivious, or if he was on purpose. It might be very hard for him to accept, but she just couldn't let his behavior slide anymore. She couldn't help but think about how honest he was trying to be with her lately, how he was trying to let her in on his deepest secrets, and she decided that they could indeed tell each other everything. It didn't come out the way she wanted, she didn't even know how to talk about it, and she was still too stunned about what he had just done. She looked down at her wrist, slightly reddened by Draco's grip. "You're getting too close to the wrong sort."
It wasn't even her worries, it wasn't a question, it was nothing else than a fact. If he had something in mind concerning Granger, a way to make her miserable, he would have told Pansy about it — he wouldn't play with her too, he would have justified himself immediately. He had done none of that.
"That's not it," he said, "that can't be it. I'm not getting close to anything." Pansy didn't look convinced. "Is that what you meant up there?"
"What else could I mean? Don't you see? Seriously, Draco, don't you see?" She asked, sounding almost desperate.
He stammered, shook his head, and rubbed his eyes with his palms. "Look, I truly didn't mean to hurt you, I—"
"I'm sure there's a lot of things you don't mean to do," Pansy interjected quietly. It stopped Draco then and there. She knew he was trying to change the subject, she also could see that he was becoming more irritable, once again. She knew it meant something, deep down, but she wasn't ready to understand it yet.
"Panse…"
"And visibly, there's a lot more things you can't control either…" She could see the muscles in his cheeks, how tense he looked. "What are you doing, Draco? Why are you throwing everything away like that?"
"I'm not… I'm not throwing anything away, come on. I just— I… I'm not."
"So what is it then? You decided that she was worth it? That she's worth our attention? She's not… She's never been." At that point, Draco was feeling dizzy.
"I know she's not," he quickly defended himself, but Pansy slightly smiled.
"Why were you talking to her, then? Because…" She laughed in a huff, to herself. "I always noticed something, you know. I always did. But, I didn't know you would ever act on it this way, I—"
"What's wrong with you?" Draco said as his anger rose in his tone. He looked offended, and she couldn't understand him. She couldn't tell if he was acting, she couldn't tell what was going on in his mind, she didn't get his duality. Either he was in, or out. There was no grey area in the matter. He couldn't betray his blood this way. Crabbe and Goyle probably never noticed, and even if they did, they were too scared of Draco to step out of line. But she wasn't. She had never been.
"What's wrong with me?" She said, her tone tainted with sadness. She didn't even want to put up a fight. "What the hell is wrong with you? You think I didn't hear you two? Casually talking? Laughing ? Like… Like she's anything like us !"
Draco breathed very deeply, these words punching him straight in the guts. And with each of them, he felt like throwing up, like he was reaching his breaking point. He just wanted to scream the truth at the top of his lungs, and be left alone.
"Like us, huh?" He said through gritted teeth, and he sounded incredibly bitter. Pansy slightly frowned, looking at him from head to toe.
"What's going on with you, Draco? What are you playing at? You're not… questioning our place, are you?" She asked quietly, her heart pumping fast in her chest.
"Of course I'm not," Draco said coldly. He had never questioned the place of pure-blood wizards in their society, which was the exact reason he was questioning his own place. Pansy noticed that his cheeks were turning a shade of pink, but she didn't steer away from his gaze, she couldn't. "We talked. That's what happened. We talked . It doesn't mean anything. What you're implying is… It's disgusting ."
"You've always said that. You've always repeated your parents' words, but I can see it. Don't think I'm stupid. You can't truly hide everything from me, not that."
"What do you see, then, if you're so clear-sighted?"
"Where should I start, Draco? What about you tell me when?" She started counting on her fingers as she continued, "What about the way you look at her? Out of all the Muggle-borns in this school, you've always been the harshest with her, and I don't think it's because of Potter. You have this way of… looking at her, for too long, and then when you realize what you're doing, you insult her relentlessly. Is it to feel better about the way you feel? So you won't feel that guilty about it? I'm ready to believe you lie to yourself, Draco, that you really believe you've never looked at her that way. But now that you're braiding each other's hair, what am I supposed to think?"
"You be real careful now, Pansy."
"Tell me. Why are you always in the library, lately? 'Cause I sure as hell don't know, since you constantly lie about where you're spending time. You're not just catching up on your work anymore, are you? Or you wouldn't be sitting with her. She's not tutoring you, is she? Do you need help, Draco? Is she there for you? Or are you there for her?"
"Shut up, Pansy, I'm warning you."
"What are you going to do? Push me away again? And when you'll be alone, you'll blame me because I've pushed you in her arms? I'll become your new excuse? What's next, Draco? You'll hang out with the Weasleys? Then, Longbottom? You'll be Potter's best friend? If you start to affiliate with such scum, Draco, you can kiss everything goodbye, because it'll be all over. Your family, the Sacred Twenty-Eight, your friends, anything and everything you've ever cared about, it'll be gone, and—"
"SHUT UP!" Draco roared, startling Pansy. She finally stopped, looking at her breathless best friend. He was red in the cheeks now, his fists clenched, but she knew he wouldn't say anything else, he wouldn't leave, he wouldn't do anything. He would go back to the rest of his day. He would dodge, as always.
Draco's gaze drifted slowly at something behind her and she turned her head. She noticed Harry and Hermione up the large staircase. They were going down to the Great Hall when Draco shouted. Neither of them knew when they arrived, what they heard, but the look on their faces was enough to know they were visibly disturbed. Draco couldn't take it anymore. Pansy faced her friend again.
"Either you wake up, or I'll have to force you to," she said calmly, yet coldly. "You can't get any good out of this."
She turned around and left for the Great Hall. Draco watched her do so, unable to follow or respond. He gulped, glanced at the duo that was still up the stairs, and he briefly met Granger's gaze. It was too much. He hurried towards the Great Hall. He had to stop again to try and find Pansy, but he couldn't. He sat alone for a while, until she came to sit in front of him by herself. They didn't talk, they barely shared a look. He knew she was still there for him, it wasn't too late for him to change his ways. But he also knew that it wouldn't take her too long now to figure out what was really going on with him, and why his actions weren't the biggest step he could take away from the blood supremacy cause.
Pansy sometimes observed him during the feast, but Draco wasn't eating. She knew it was already a stressful year for him, and she wasn't helping in any way. But he needed to hear it. He needed to wake up. He seemed to be thinking about all of this, at least, and that was her only comfort.
Draco was, indeed, thinking about the conversation. But not the way Pansy wished he was. While he didn't question her words, he didn't question his own either. What she implied was disgusting. It was sickening.
He would never be good enough for anybody. Even Muggle-borns deserved better than a disgrace like him.
When he looked up, not at Pansy but at the sea of students, his eyes found her right away. She was looking at him, too. Hermione was looking at him with concern and he felt his heart sink.