"You heard her, how she demeaned us. What's wrong with Ron or Neville? She called us scum, Hermione," Harry said as he put food on his plate.
"Yeah, I heard her too. Clearly, she didn't know we've been talking. I told you he didn't plan anything against me, or he wouldn't have to hide it from her."
"Yeah, and you heard how he yelled at her. Good friend, he is."
"You don't know anything about him," Hermione mumbled and Harry, done with her behavior, almost slammed his fork on the table.
"That's enough, Hermione, do you hear yourself?" She sighed. "I still don't get why it's so important to you. If you want me to, maybe you should tell me what's going on. But just so you know, he's not going to turn his back to everything Pansy talked about just for you, you know."
"I know that," Hermione said quickly, hoping her cheeks weren't turning pink.
Harry paused, observed her for a moment, making her uncomfortable.
"What?"
"You're not hoping he does, do you?"
"Why would I?" She asked, still sounding offended. Yet, there was something off about it.
He seemed to be about to ask something, but he didn't. He stared, still, and she knew he guessed the true wishes of her heart.
Ron sat down next to Harry and the matter was dropped. Hermione got back to her plate, and Ron didn't talk to her once during the feast.
.
When the Gryffindors went up to their common room, Hermione went into her dormitory alone. She closed the door behind her and sat down on her bed, next to her cat, a shaky breath leaving her lips. She needed a break. Just a small one. She just needed to recover from that day, and all the others before this one.
She knew there was too much truth to Harry's remarks. Of course, Draco wouldn't leave everything behind for her. Obviously. Besides, he wouldn't fall for her, ever. She couldn't remember when she started thinking about him this way. She couldn't tell when she had started to obsess over him, to look forward to their secret meetings in the library. It was ridiculous. She was, just like Harry, shocked about her behavior, if she had to be honest. Draco was, and had always been, so contemptuous. She couldn't let herself fall for him even harder than she already was. But how could she break her fall?
Her gaze drifted to her pillow. She removed her cloak and lay on her stomach as she grabbed her notebook from under the pillow. She smiled as she held it. She hadn't seen his drawings right away. Not before the next History of Magic class, not before she opened it again. She wasn't expecting anything, and she was certainly hoping he didn't bewitch the book or do something to her notes. But he didn't. Well, he did something, but it was something that caused absolutely no harm.
She opened the notebook and her smile grew wider as she stared at the title page of the first chapter they had started with that year. After having them study and write an essay titled Witch Burning in the Fourteenth Century Was Completely Pointless - discuss , Professor Binns had talked about it at length with his class. Hermione observed the caricatural drawings moving on the page. Draco had drawn a couple of witches tied to wooden poles on each side of the sheet. Under them were piles of wood and straw burning. The witches were contorting with laughter and, a couple more witches were flying back and forth on top of the page, wands out, making rain fall from dark clouds. The scene kept repeating. The witches kept laughing continuously but the rain would stop falling and the witches on their brooms would make it fall again.
She skimmed through the notebook. While he hadn't done something on every page, there had been a few surprises the first time Hermione had looked at every single one to check what else he could have drawn. He mainly took care of the title pages but, when he found something funny to draw, he would add characters above or next to some paragraphs of her notes. He must have had time on his hands, given her extensive notes and how boring he probably found the class.
She jumped with surprise when the dormitory door opened and she flung the notebook back under her pillow before she turned to discover Ginny.
"Hey," Ginny said. She had seen, of course, Hermione could tell right away by her expression. "Is this a bad time?"
"No, no, not at all," Hermione quickly said, sitting up again. Ginny approached and allowed herself to sit on the bed next to Hermione's so they would face each other. She kept glancing at the pillow and Hermione hoped she wouldn't ask any questions. "What is it?"
"I just wanted to know how you were doing…"
Hermione didn't expect her concern to have this effect. A weight was lifted off her shoulders, and Ginny's genuine interest almost brought her to tears, which the red-head noticed too. She quickly left her spot to sit next to Hermione and grabbed her hands, holding them tight.
"You know you can talk to me, right? I won't tell Ron anything… I saw you at the feast, and I know he's still mad, and I just… I just wanted to make sure you're fine."
"I'm not," Hermione breathed out. She almost didn't believe it herself. Ginny's hands became tighter around her fingers and she reciprocated the grip. "I'm really not. This is too much for me…"
"What is?"
"Everything… The classes, your brother, Harry… my feelings…"
"Your feelings?" Ginny asked, getting curious by the second.
Hermione shook her head quickly, "I'm just confused I think. Well, I don't know. I'm not sure, I can't be…" She dared a glance in Ginny's direction and was plagued by guilt. "I can't talk to you about this," she said quietly, "it wouldn't be fair to you… not after everything he's said to your brother… or after what happened to you."
"What?" Ginny asked in the same tone. "You're starting to worry me, Hermione, what's going on? You can tell me anything."
"Can I, really?"
"Of course, you can. I'm your friend."
At that point, Hermione didn't know if it meant anything anymore. She got one of her hands out of Ginny's grip and softly patted Crookshanks on the head. She so wanted to tell her everything, to empty her chest of all these contradicting, torturing feelings and ache.
"I can't tell you everything," Hermione said, and she felt her chin shake at the thought of Draco's terrible secret, "I'm not allowed to say everything… Or, I won't allow myself to say everything."
"It's alright, you should only talk about what you're comfortable with… But if it can help, you shouldn't keep it all in…"
"Alright. So there it goes," Hermione said. She breathed deeply, exhaled the same way. "There it goes," she repeated, nodding. Ginny gave her the time she needed, almost afraid of what Hermione could be hiding. "I've been talking with Draco Malfoy."
"Oh," Ginny said. Then, something hit her. "Oh."
The girls looked at each other, and neither could say anything else for a moment. It was uncomfortable, Hermione wanted to justify herself but she knew she couldn't, there was no excuse, and Ginny simply didn't know what to say. While it hadn't been as terrible a revelation as she started to think it could be, it wasn't nothing either. It was big. It was huge. She knew the number of reasons Hermione had to be anxious, to be feeling bad about it. Ginny didn't even know what to ask first.
"How did that happen?" was what slipped out of Ginny's mouth.
And at that moment, Hermione understood that Ginny wasn't judging her.
"That's it?" Hermione frowned.
"What do you want me to say? I told you, I'm listening…"
"But… After last year…" Hermione stammered, trying to formulate her thoughts, and Ginny interjected.
"Believe it or not, but I don't confuse Draco with his father. It's not to say he didn't do anything to us. Especially to Ron. But I also know you… there must be a reason, I mean… there's no other way around it. So, I'm listening."
Hermione felt so relieved. She observed Ginny, whose experience had made her mature so early in life. She smiled sadly at her and she tried to keep her chin stable this time, but she just couldn't.
"I don't know if you remember what happened at the first feast of the year?" Hermione asked. Ginny thought about it and when it came back to her, she nodded quickly. "I wondered what was going on. Obviously, I wasn't going to go and ask him, I didn't even think I would try and find out. I mean… It's Malfoy. I shouldn't have even cared. But… We ran into each other at the library, let's say, and… I couldn't help but ask some things."
"Like what?" Ginny asked, already absorbed by the story.
"I asked him if he was sick. I don't know if you've ever noticed but—"
"Everyone's noticed, Hermione. Last year, I heard there was even a bet organised by fourth years from different houses about what was going on with him."
"You're kidding…" Ginny shook her head and Hermione looked down. If Draco knew this. She sighed. "I've figured it out."
"Seriously?" Ginny asked, eyes wide. Hermione nodded.
"That's what I can't tell you about all of this. I can't. He doesn't even know that I know what's happening." Ginny was visibly disappointed but was respectful enough to not push. "It's a terrible situation, and it's part of why I could bring myself to talk to him more, despite what he's done or said in the past. Even if…"
"Even if?"
"I didn't know when… I first started talking to him. I was just curious about him," she confessed. Ginny slowly nodded. She could understand, in a way. "He…" Hermione cleared her throat. She stood up and went to her bedside table. She opened a drawer and got out a crumpled, miserable looking piece of paper that was now neatfly folded. "We were in the library, once again, together, and he sent me this from his table…"
Ginny opened the paper and her eyebrows shot up to her hairline. "What an artist…" she said quietly. Hermione chuckled and took back the drawing.
"Anyway, Professor Snape came for him, and I just couldn't help but wonder, again, what was going on… I didn't get a chance to really talk to him that day, he wasn't really nice either. But I just could tell there was something different about his attitude. I don't know if you've noticed but he's not going off on Harry and Ron the way he usually does." Ginny nodded again. "I knew there was something else going on. Long story short but Harry spied on him one night, and discovered some things, he overheard a conversation between Draco and Professor Snape, and all of it… It just rose so many more questions. I can't get into it, now that I know what it was all about, but it was so intriguing… I couldn't stay away. And when I finally realized what was going on… Everything made so much sense."
She knew her story was confusing, because she couldn't reveal Draco's secret, but Ginny was listening closely to her every word.
"His behavior, why he's sick, missing classes… why he's so stressed out this year, why he's been acting differently. His behavior the last few years as well, it just… I understood everything. I'm not saying it excuses it, of course, don't get me wrong. But we both know about his family, how he was raised… I keep thinking about how conflicted he must feel…"
"Just so you know, you've lost me, kinda," Ginny said and Hermione looked apologetic, "but continue."
"I suppose you've heard about his Boggart?"
"Yeah… Yeah, everyone's heard."
"Even that, I know about, now. And… I get it, you know. I just get him. So I wanted to… I don't even know what I wanted, or why I did it. I felt sympathetic, I guess? So I went back to talk to him a few times and he just… accepted it. So… we've been talking. Regularly, actually. We meet in the library… It's not- there's no arrangement beforehand, but… when we're both there, when we're alone… we sit at the same table and…" she couldn't help her small smile.
"It's hard to believe…"
"I know. But that's not all, unfortunately…"
"Keep going!" Ginny encouraged her, hanging to her every word.
Hermione smiled and grabbed what she had been so eager to hide under her pillow earlier. She handed the notebook to Ginny.
"Because he missed a class after the whole Boggart thing, I gave him my notes… He took them, and I thought I might never see them again but he gave them back to me and…" She nodded towards the notebook. Ginny opened it and looked surprised again, before she chuckled. She observed the drawing, turned a few pages before Hermione pointed at the few dog-eared ones. Ginny skimmed through those, each title page and a few pages of simple notes having drawings on them. She closed the notebook and inspected it.
"I see that you've marked the ones he drew on," she said innocently enough. Hermione played with her fingers, biting her lip as she looked down.
"That's why it's not all, isn't it?" Ginny asked.
"What do you mean?"
"That's why you weren't done, that's why your story wasn't finished with the fact that you talk to each other." Hermione went pink in the cheeks. Oh, yes, Ginny knew that look. "You like him, don't you?"
Hermione looked down again. "I'm a terrible person," she whispered.
"I'm not sure why you would be," Ginny commented, handing her the notebook back. Hermione took it and held it against her as she avoided Ginny's eyes.
"I'm talking with Malfoy. I'm… I have a crush on Draco Malfoy," she confessed in a whisper. She knew, of course, before she ever told Ginny, but pronouncing the words was different. To her surprise, Ginny giggled at this. She crossed her legs and placed her hands on Hermione's forearms.
"What's about him? Tell me."
Hermione bit her lips, hesitant, but she couldn't resist for too long. She placed the notebook next to her and sat the same way Ginny did.
"He's… well. As hard as it is to admit, he's funny… When he's not demeaning, he's funny. He's clever, too. It was weird at first because… I think because I never, ever, had a real conversation with him before, so I was surprised. He knows a lot of things, he talks about a lot of different things, he… We think we know him because of what he shows, but… we don't know him at all. At all. And I like… I like when I manage to make him laugh… I like when he smiles and—"
"Wow, Hermione… This isn't just a crush. You're going full out…"
"I'm not," Hermione said quickly, red in the cheeks again. Ginny's expression told her she was lying to herself, in her opinion, and she looked down. "I'm not… I can't be…"
"You can't or you don't want to?"
"I think it's a bit of both…"
"Then why do you keep talking to him? If you know you shouldn't, or if you think you shouldn't, and if you don't want to…" Hermione didn't know what to say and Ginny smiled mysteriously. "You can't, can you? You can't stay away?"
"I don't want to," Hermione whispered. Ginny chuckled and held Hermione's hands.
"I'm not judging you, you know. You can't control these feelings… I think… Well, a lot of people would think you can do better than him. I think you're free to do whatever you want. But… I obviously don't know if he shares your feelings, or if he'll ever be allowed to do something about it if that's the case. I don't know what you know, I'm sure there's more to all of it. I just want you to be careful."
"I am. Or at least, I'm trying to be… Harry saw us earlier today…"
"Oh no!"
"Yeah… Pansy Parkinson too, you know, Draco's friend… So I don't know how it'll go now. They're both probably going to keep an eye on us."
"Did you talk about it with Harry?" Ginny inquired.
"Yeah, a bit… We didn't fight, so that's something already. But he's really not happy about it… He thinks Draco's up to something, and he can't understand why I'd waste time talking to him, these sorts of things."
"I mean, can you blame him?" Hermione shook her head slightly.
"Of course not… I know how it must have looked like, especially when he came in the room… You should have seen Draco." Ginny couldn't help but smile a little when Hermione looked down. She patter her shoulder, trying to be as comforting as possible. "Anyway, he wasn't exactly mad, he was curious I think. I'm just afraid he's going to tell Ron."
"He wouldn't give him more reasons to be mad at you, I'm sure… He knows how it could turn out."
"I don't know… Besides, I'm not sure Draco will ever talk to me again anyway…"
"Why?" Ginny asked, alarmed.
Hermione explained what she and Harry witnessed while going down to the feast.
"He has too much to lose. No matter what I think of this whole blood issue, no matter what he feels about it nowadays, if there's any change in his mentality… He won't risk it all just to talk to me. I can always wish, but… Nothing's ever going to happen, and that's probably for the best."
Draco had lost too much already. He wasn't going to throw away how little he had left just for her. While his parents did keep him in despite the situation, she didn't know how he was treated at home. It sounded like he was still cared for, given what Harry had told her about the conversation with Lupin, but how could she be sure? And she wouldn't give them a reason to completely turn their backs on their son. Draco would never forgive her, and they didn't need the pain.
She realized that she was thinking way too far ahead. As if Draco even remotely felt the same way about her. Maybe Ginny was right, maybe it was more than some little crush…
"I'm sure he'll find a way to talk to you. If he really wants to, if there's really something there… I'm sure he will," Ginny said, her hand on Hermione's knee. They smiled at each other. Hermione was definitely feeling better about it all. Besides, nothing was actually going on, and nothing would happen, probably. She could talk about it to her friend, she could let some of it out and relax a little. Everything was fine.
.
"Malfoy? Really?"
Everything wasn't fine.
Ron was trying not to shout, it was late, they were supposed to be in bed, but Hermione and Ginny were still up near the fire, talking about it all when suddenly, Ron barged in. He left his dormitory, closely followed by Harry, and they ran down the stairs.
"So I was wrong about that," Ginny mumbled.
"What? You knew?" Ron asked, shocked.
"Oh, you're leaving me out of this, especially with that tone," Ginny said.
"You couldn't help yourself, could you?" Hermione asked Harry.
"I just wanted him to talk to you again and as you can see… He's talking to you!" He said, quickly looking away at the fire when Hermione glared at him. Ginny, on her comfortable armchair, was amused though.
"That's not the point!" Ron said, probably a bit too loudly.
"Can you stop yelling at me?" Hermione asked calmly.
"But- But- Malfoy!"
"And since when do you care?" She said, standing up, eyes narrowed at Ron. He had taken a step back when she stood up. Hermione sighed and turned around so he could only see her back as she crossed her arms.
"I'm worried for you, that's all," Ron said quietly. Ginny smiled again and shook her head, glancing at Harry with a knowing look. He seemed amused too and he sat down on the armrest of her chair. Ginny managed to control herself and stay on her seat, no matter how nervous she could still be around Harry sometimes, especially when they were alone.
"What could have possibly crossed your mind when you chose to talk to him? That's… insane!" Ron continued. Oh, what Ginny knew. She turned to the fire so no one would see the grin she was trying to conceal.
"I don't know if I prefer when you're worried for me or when you're mad at me," Hermione said.
"I-I'm still angry," Ron said quickly, even though the softness of his voice betrayed how tired he was of their bickering, "but it doesn't mean you should do this kind of stuff."
Hermione, shocked at the accusation, turned suddenly to Ron.
"Do you actually think I'm talking to him to have your attention, Ronald?"
"I didn't say that," Ron said even more quickly, face turning red. "But it's Malfoy so either way, why in the world would you speak to him, I mean—"
"I don't need a reason, and I don't owe you one, I can do whatever I want."
"Alright, I get that, we're not here to order you around. But look, I know you work a lot, and that you're tired, and that you're, like, really stressed out, but don't you think you're going a tad far with this? We're worried, and for good reasons!"
"You weren't so worried about me being so stressed out when it came to Crookshanks."
"Because that monster ate Scabbers," Ron said and Harry rolled his eyes.
"Guys, not with that again…" he mumbled. He didn't want to be a part of the argument either, but they were just about to go in circles again.
"Besides, it doesn't mean I don't care about you anymore!" Ron confessed abruptly, "I'm mad but it's more important for me to know that—"
All eyes were on him now. Hermione's expression softened.
"That what?" She asked gently.
"I don't know," Ron mumbled with a shrug, "that you're safe, y'know."
And just like that, they buried the hatchet. And Harry hoped Hermione wouldn't feel the need to talk to Draco again.
But that wasn't Hermione's plans. And Draco, well… he was trying to push away the idea, but he couldn't.
.
Still, they only got the opportunity to talk to each other once right before the next full moon. Pansy was monopolizing Draco to make sure he wouldn't hang out with the wrong sort of people, and Hermione was spending much of her time with the boys, to catch up but also so they wouldn't wonder where she was, and so they wouldn't follow her around.
Draco and Pansy were walking side by side to go to their next lesson when Hermione came from the other end of the corridor, apparently in a hurry. Books in her arms, her heavy bag on her shoulder, she was walking rapidly when she tripped. She barely had time to gasp when hands grabbed her by the arm, stopping her fall before she met the floor face first. She was just as startled as Pansy when she realized that Draco had caught her.
Draco Malfoy. A few months ago and he might as well have pushed her himself. A few months ago, even if he had caught her on reflexes only, he would have dropped her and wiped his hands on his cloak. They stared at each other a few too long seconds before Hermione straightened up. They both looked exhausted, pale, red eyes, as if they hadn't slept that night.
Hermione placed her hair back behind her ear as she stammered her thanks, and she quickly walked away. Draco watched as she left, unable to detach her gaze from her, or his mind from his desire to talk to her. He glanced down and noticed a book that had fallen. Neither of them had noticed.
"Hey, Granger, you forgot—" But Hermione was long gone. "—your book."
"Well, I guess you'll have to burn it now," Pansy said with a little smirk. Draco kept staring at the corner Hermione had disappeared behind, as if hoping she would suddenly come back for her book. But she didn't come back, and he turned to Pansy.
"Nah, I don't think so," he said. Pansy raised an eyebrow, unimpressed by the decision she knew he made.
"You're not serious," she grumbled.
"Let me be, Pansy," Draco let out, annoyed. His calm was enough for Pansy to know this was his worst kind of annoyance and she wasn't about to push him too much, especially when he forced a smile, continuing too softly. "I'm about to have a terrible day. Just let me live a little."
Pansy frowned, not understanding what he meant, and she quickly followed Draco to their classroom when he walked away.
.
Later that day, after he managed to successfully avoid Hermione, he went to the library, hoping she'd be there. They hadn't spent time together there for a while, but they had received a certain amount of work that week and he hoped his intuition would be right.
He entered the library and congratulated himself on how clever he was. But he didn't directly walk towards their table, because Hermione wasn't alone. She was with Weasel's sister.
He discretely walked behind some shelves, getting a good look at Hermione. He stayed there for a couple of minutes, hidden behind the shelf, eyes closed and the back of his head resting against the books. He thought that if he walked aimlessly in the room until Hermione noticed him, maybe she would ask Ginny to leave her alone. But that was just wishful thinking… what was he doing anyway…
He breathed deeply, but still did what he truly wanted to do. But Hermione was too focused on her work to notice anything, and it was Ginny who granted his wish.
She spotted him, a book in his hand, as he was apparently reading some titles on a shelf not far from them. She smiled, knowing Hermione would be happy to see him, and she got her attention with a soft kick in her feet. Hermione directly looked up, surprised, and Ginny discretely indicated Draco with her head. Hermione became really red in the face and Ginny had to stop herself or she would laugh out loud.
"I'll leave you to it," she whispered. She stood up and left in the opposite direction to disappear behind the shelves.
Hermione, nervous, tried to act natural. But all she could do was panic. She couldn't write anymore, her thoughts stepping over each other, pushing each other in all directions, she just couldn't think straight anymore. She dropped her quill, picked it up, put it back down, looked around and then at her books, not knowing what to do with her hands. When Draco glanced and noticed that Ginny was gone, he finally approached the table. He didn't know how long he'd have before she'd come back, and he sat next to her without warning and when she looked at him, he smiled mysteriously. She chuckled quietly at his expression and tried to hold his gaze for as long as she could.
"What are you doing here?" She whispered. He didn't answer. He was visibly amused and once again, she noticed that he was detailing her face. Was it just her confused brain that told her he was looking at her lips? "Draco?" She insisted.
"You dropped something, yesterday," he finally said, holding up her book. "You know, when I saved you from a near fatal accident?"
"Saved me, huh?" She repeated, amused. She tried to take the book, but Draco wouldn't let go of it."
"'Course. You should be happy I'm bringing it back to you. Pansy wanted me to burn it."
"Did you consider doing it?"
He held up his other hand, approaching his thumb and index finger to each other. "I was about this close…"
"What made you change your mind, then?"
He shrugged and she was caught doing the same as him; she stared a little too long. At his pale, pointy face, at his hair falling on his forehead, at the way his gray eyes shone under the light.
"Well, thank you then, that was very generous of you," she finally said and he let go of her book. She dared a glance at one of the windows. She knew he had to go somewhere else soon, and she wondered why he was still sitting there now that he had given her back her book.
"What's it about?" He asked, resting his elbow on the table and his head on his hand.
"What?"
"Your book," he clarified. She stared again. So she wasn't completely wrong. There was something going on between them. There was no other way to interpret his behavior, right?
"Um… It's just a story," she said, flustered. She could feel her cheeks getting hotter by the second under his gaze.
"You're not very talkative, today…" Draco commented. "Is it because of Scarhead?"
"Try Pansy, maybe," she said quietly. Draco nodded.
"You've seen her around?"
Hermione slightly frowned, mechanically glancing around. "No…"
"What's the problem then?"
She shook her head. "Well, I'll tell you what," she smiled at him, though uncomfortable. No, Pansy wasn't around. Ginny wasn't around anymore. He had to be sneaky to talk to her. Maybe she had to be patient… but maybe he just would never talk to her in front of other people, and what was the point of that? "You keep it, you read it, then you give it back to me. You'll tell me what you think of it, and I won't have to tell you what it's about." She handed him back the book. Draco glanced at it, then at Hermione, then at the book, then at her. He grabbed the book but didn't get it out of her hand either. He smirked.
"Alright, we have a deal. But… You know, it's not exactly on my list of priorities to read what you described as "just a story"," he started, and Hermione raised a brow, trying not to smile again. "So… It might take me some time."
"It's quite alright, you have all the time in the world. I, too, am busy," she said, gesturing towards her homework.
"Really, it's fine if I take, like… weeks?" He asked.
He was clearly going somewhere with this but he seemed suddenly awkward. "Well, yeah," she said.
"Because, you know, like I said, I'm a really busy man and — what?"
"Nothing," she quickly said as she stopped laughing.
"Anyway. All I'm saying is, I might not be done before Easter. I mean… it's a big book. Not that I have a problem with big books, that's usually what I read too, and…" He noticed that he was rambling on and getting nowhere. Uncomfortable, he stood up, finally getting the book out of her grip. "Anyway. I think I'll read it during the holidays… So, I might, you know, maybe… Maybe I could tell you what I thought of it during the holidays too. I could, you know, write you a letter or something. About the book. I could write a letter about the book."
There was a long pause. He thought about running away, his heart racing as fast as his feet would get him away from that place, but Hermione smiled at him and he couldn't go anywhere anymore.
"Fine by me," she said.
"Is it?" He asked quickly, regretting it immediately. How childish did he sound?
She chuckled before she scribbled down something on an empty envelope that was in her bag, before she handed it out to Draco. He took it and read her address. Content with his exploit, he slid the envelope in the book.
"You have no idea. I can't wait for your letter to arrive, I'm already counting the days," she said. Draco bit his lip to stop his grin from appearing.
"Well, get in line," he said before he winked. Absolutely mortified, he finally turned around and hurried outside, leaving Hermione absolutely speechless.
Once he was out, he almost jumped back in as he was surprised by Pansy. She was standing there, waiting for him to get out.
"I knew it. I knew you'd go and talk to her. I thought you were giving it back to her?" She then exclaimed, pointing at the book. Draco sighed heavily, ignoring her remarks as he walked away from the library, still ashamed of what he had just done.
.
"Can you believe it? She's telling me this? She talks to me like I'm a child!" Draco said, taking large strides towards the Shrieking Shack. Lupin was a bit behind, hands in his pockets, listening to Draco's ramblings. He had never seen the boy so overexcited the night of a full moon. "Oh, at first of course, she didn't bring it up again — she wouldn't want me to be mad at her, would she? But as soon as I said I was going to the library, she had to follow me and scold me again. When she saw I still had Granger's book… you should have seen the look on her face!" He continued, spewing every word as fast as he could.
Lupin was partly amused. He wondered if Draco was addressing his father this way, when rambling about Harry or any other inconvenience he could come across.
When Draco had come to the library to take his potion, he appeared to be in a bad mood. What stunned both his professors was when he told Snape that he didn't need him to walk him to the Whomping Willow and that he would just go with Lupin instead. Remus had avoided looking in Snape's general direction, he could feel the glare on him already. He didn't want to engage in this kind of useless fighting with Severus, he didn't want to fight for Draco. Neither had to prove who was closest to the boy. When they had left Snape's office, Lupin had tried to talk to Draco about it, but the boy didn't care about any of it. He told him he didn't want to talk about Snape and Lupin wondered if something had happened between them.
"In love, right? Who does she think she is, exactly? She doesn't know how I feel! You talk to girls about one tiny thing and they think they can control every aspect of your life from then on!"
Draco's over exaggeration of the situation was quite funny to Lupin. He wanted to ask: "Why so defensive, Draco?", but he knew better. If he had to be quite honest, he'd rather Draco be mad at Pansy than at him. They climbed in the Shrieking Shack, then upstairs, and Draco, relentless, continued his monologue as he paced the room.
"You should see her talking about it,"—he took a high-pitch voice for his following dramatic reenactment—"Why do you look at her that way Draco? Why are you acting this way Draco? Why Draco, why? Why am I better than everyone, Draco, why do I have to know everything better than everyone else, Draco?"
"Now, now, Draco," Lupin said when Draco kicked an already broken chair out of his way. "If what she thinks of your actions is so unimportant, you don't need to get carried away like this. But would she… talk to you this way if she didn't have any reason to do so?"
Draco stared for a moment before he paced again. "I am not in love with Granger! What's wrong with you people?"
Lupin tried to conceal his smile. How ironic. "I didn't say you were," he said calmly, "but your behavior is rather unusual. Can't we agree on that?"
"We just talked ," Draco said, articulating clearly the last word of his sentence. He knew what it meant. He knew how "just talking" was already way too much. But he wasn't about to admit it. Not to Pansy, not to Lupin, not to himself. He knew already. He just needed to diminish the impact of his actions so he wouldn't feel so guilty about it. But what could he diminish about his awkward flirting? About his need to see her, to talk to her, to make her smile? He felt another surge of anger and looked around for something else to kick. "I know I shouldn't, but that's the only thing that's happened," he added.
"I'm not saying you like her," Lupin sighed the opposite of his thoughts, "I just don't understand why you're getting so angry over something if you know you're not doing anything… worse than this, let's say," Lupin explained, trying to adapt to the Malfoys' mentality so he could dialogue with the boy. Draco glanced at his professor and narrowed his eyes. "Besides, apart from Pansy's thoughts on the matter… If you know you shouldn't be talking to her, why are you? Can't you resist even if talking to Hermione Granger is such an unacceptable thing to do? Why is it that bad to begin with?"
"Please, you know exactly why it's wrong," Draco said sharply.
"Ah, of course. But are you so clean yourself?"
Draco seemed taken aback by the question but soon, his lips were twisting again with fury.
"I have responsibilities," he said through gritted teeth. "The rest doesn't matter."
"Let's talk responsibilities, then. Did you accept these responsibilities? Has anyone, and by that I mean a single person, asked for your opinion on those responsibilities after you were bitten? There's no way your judgment hasn't changed, no matter how you still feel about people like Hermione. Or people like me for that matter."
Draco looked down. He knew Lupin was a half-blood, of course. Some people in his family had real problems with those too. His aunt, for one. He knew that on his mother's side, there had been inbreeding in the past, just so they would avoid any blood that wasn't pure at all cost. But the Malfoys… If they really had to, just so that they wouldn't marry relatives, did allow marriage with half-bloods.
Actually, if he examined the matter, he wasn't even sure… No. Draco pushed his thought away.
In the end, it was all about appearances. Maybe that was the key. The key to why his parents had kept him in. If nobody knew, then nobody knew. They would stay as opportunistic as they had always been.
"That's what I thought," Lupin continued. "Do you even know what you are anymore?"
"I'm pure," Draco said solemnly, his anger still heard in his tone. "My family's pure."
"It's got nothing to do with your ancestors, at this point. The night you were bitten, your blood was contaminated. Magical ancestors or not, you're not the same as your father or your mother."
"I'm still considered a pure-blood. It's enough."
"Is that what you all keep telling yourselves?" Lupin asked. Draco, furious, couldn't even bring himself to look at him anymore. Fists clenched as hard as his teeth, he was resolutely staring at Lupin's feet. "It's killing you inside, isn't it?" Lupin said quietly. "Knowing that it's not entirely true? That you all hide behind your titles, your masquerade… Yes, it's the way people see you. It's the way your friends see you. I'm not trying to hurt you, Draco, or anger you. I'm just trying to understand why you won't admit it out loud. Because I know you know the truth."
He finally looked up at his professor. "If you can't understand why we're different… Why we're better… Then I don't want to talk to you about it."
And of course Lupin was, again, faced with the fact that Draco was still a child. So, he nodded. "I couldn't care less about your blood being contaminated. Hermione wouldn't either. But if Pansy would… maybe it's time for you to sort out what life you want to lead."
"You don't care because you're contaminated too. You were born a half-blood, and now you're a half-breed. You can't afford to care!"
"Why can you?"
They stared silently at each other, until Draco walked away. He sat down on the mattress, arms crossed on his knees. He was frowning at the floor, muscles moving in his cheeks, thoughts twirling in his mind.
"I'm not filthy," he muttered.
"I never said you were."
"You implied it."
"And I never said you weren't worthy of your name anymore," Lupin continued as he sat next to Draco. "Knowing just enough about your mother's side… We both know you should be seen as dirt under her shoes," he said, thinking about Sirius Black. "Knowing that Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Black haven't thrown you out means more than you could ever imagine. And frankly, Draco, I think you are really lucky."
Draco closed his eyes and hid his face against his arms.
"Talk about luck…" Lupin heard him murmur.
.
The next day, at night, Draco left the hospital wing to go back to his common room. He didn't want to stay longer, but he only felt like regaining his own bed once everyone was asleep already. He left his bed, kept the curtains drawn so the matron wouldn't notice he was gone right away, he got back into his clothes and grabbed his shoes. He left on tiptoes, to make sure Madam Pomfresh wouldn't hear, and he closed the hospital door behind him. Hermione hadn't come see him that day, and Pansy didn't either. For Granger, it was predictable, as for Pansy… She must have discovered the truth by now. Did she? Did she want to let him rest before talking about it? She must have been shaken by the discovery, maybe she was the one who needed time. He would talk about it with her the next day.
Draco walked silently in the hallways. He didn't have his wand, it would always stay in his dormitory when he had to leave for the Shrieking Shack, but he could still feel some of the effects of the moon. It hadn't been twenty-four hours since his transformation, and it was high in the sky at that point, even if not completely full. He couldn't see everything around him, nor far away, but he could distinguish enough of his surroundings to know where to go. The portraits were asleep and without his shoes on, he was barely making a noise.
He only put on his shoes before going down to the dungeons. It was too cold down there, and he was far enough from everyone. He had managed to avoid Peeves upstairs, and he doubted the poltergeist would appear in the dungeons without making sure the Bloody Baron wasn't around.
Draco was getting close to his common room at that point, but when he was about to walk past Snape's office, the door opened and he suddenly stepped back, shielding his eyes from the light coming from Snape's wand.
"Would you like to tell me what you are doing up and around at this hour?" Snape asked coolly.
"Couldn't sleep," Draco said, still grimacing at the light. He kept a hand above his eyes as he looked at his godfather.
"Got something on your mind, have you?" Snape asked.
"Do you?" Draco asked, glancing at the office.
They had barely spoken two words to each other in the last few weeks. Snape was distant, cold, visibly busy with anything but Draco, and the boy, on top of his godfather's behavior, had too much on his mind. Vexed, he had given Snape the same treatment he was receiving.
"You're lucky I'm the one who found you," Snape said. He closed his door behind him and started to walk in the direction of the common room. Draco reluctantly followed.
Snape opened the passage and Draco got in the room. He turned and watched the wall close, leaving Snape on the other side. He sighed and started to walk towards the other side of the room. But before he could reach the stairs leading down to his dormitory, he finally noticed that somebody else was there. The fire was almost dead in the fireplace, but the light intrigued him, and when he approached the high chairs near it, he discovered Pansy. She was curled up in one of the chairs, a plaid around her body. She visibly didn't mind the fire, it was as if she was looking through it. Had she even noticed the common room opening? Apparently she did because, slowly, her gaze drifted towards Draco, but not on his face, she didn't meet his eyes. She looked pale, tired. Draco approached the high chairs.
"Panse, what are you doing here?" He only managed to ask quietly.
"I couldn't sleep," she whispered, looking away immediately. She seemed tense and Draco wondered if it was his fault.
"Pans—"
"Don't."
And so it was.
"I just—"
"I said—" She stopped and closed her eyes. Draco could only stare, feeling weak in the knees. " Don't ."
Her voice was trembling and Draco breathed deeply.
"I'm sorry," he said, more genuine than he had ever been. But she didn't want to hear it.
"I was worrying sick. All this time, wondering what was going on, wondering… if each day, you were dying a little bit. I even thought… I thought your family was actually cursed. But now… I get why you couldn't even look me in the eye and say it out loud."
As the light from the fire was dancing on her face, Draco guessed of which tragic song Pansy's thoughts were made, and a shadow was cast on his heart.
He became the image of his common room; his eyes cold, his face somber. He knew she would reject him. He had told himself so too many times, he even stopped himself from making her promise she'd stay by his side. He thought he'd understand her thought process, he thought he'd accept it. But he, too, couldn't accept their differences.
"I'm not dangerous," he only said. What else could he do? It didn't matter if he had planned on backing out, of lying to protect himself. He couldn't do that either. He had no strength left, no conviction in his voice, no desire to explain anything.
"You know what," Pansy said as she finally moved. She turned to him on her seat, her plaid falling off her shoulders. "I know it's probably not your fault. I know, I get that."
"Probably not?" Draco asked, but she ignored him.
"But how can you say you're not dangerous? I'm sick of your lies, Draco," she said, getting quieter with each word so he wouldn't notice how strangled she sounded.
"I'm not lying," he let out in this monotone voice that didn't seem to come from his throat. He felt his own existence crumpling under Pansy's gut-wrenching words. "Severus prepares my potion every month. I'm not on the grounds when it happens. I'm not a danger to you."
He didn't even feel like blaming the world this time. He made his decision. He chose to talk to her about it. He was now reaping what he sowed. What choice did he have left?
Why did he tell her? There wouldn't be any going back now.
"That's why…" She blinked rapidly and he knew she was trying not to cry. She stood up, abandoning the plaid on the couch. She was in her pyjamas, her small pigtails held by white hair bobbles still on her head. She probably never went to bed that night. She slowly crossed her arms and held herself. "That's why you can bring yourself to talk to her, isn't it?" Even her breath was shaky. "Because you know, you've always known, that you're not like us." She clasped a hand on her mouth to keep in a sob.
As much as he thought he was about to drop dead on the floor, Draco's heart started to pump furiously again. "Oh come on, I didn't make a blood-traitor out of you," he spat.
She recognized the tone, she knew she had hit a nerve. How could he speak to her like that? After everything he had kept hidden from her. Now that she knew the truth.
"Do you think I'm happy about this?"
"I didn't say that," Pansy said.
"So what? You think it was a fun little game, hiding this from you? Tell me, Pansy, should my parents have told everybody about me when it happened?"
She didn't answer, and when he took a step forward, she took one back, against her armchair. She instinctively looked down, the coldness of his eyes too much to bear.
"What?" He asked. He didn't approach more, he had noticed what she'd done. "Are you scared of me?" She closed her eyes and couldn't see the contempt in his. "The only reason you didn't know is that you didn't want to know."
"That's not true!" She exclaimed, alarmed.
"It is!" Draco almost shouted. He breathed deeply a few times, he tried to regain some sort of composure, then he carried on, more calmly but his coldness echoing with every word. "I've never rejected you. Never."
"It's not the same, you can't — you can't use this to your advantage!" She said, even though neither of them could think clearly, even though they could both be regretting anything they were saying in the next few minutes.
"Why isn't it the same, Pansy? You confided in me and I listened, and I tried to understand, and I held your hand," he said, his emotions now getting the best of him. The fire was reflecting in his watery eyes, his lips were contorted by his strangled voice as he looked at her from head to toe. "And now I can't even approach you? You're… You're actually… Would you run away if I did? Am I that monstrous? Am I that hideous?"
Tears were now rolling down both their faces. She couldn't say anything, because she didn't have the answers to his questions. She didn't know. She was confused, she felt betrayed, she was… afraid. How could she not be? Absent-mindedly, she reached for her wrist, the one Draco had held, had pulled, had hurt. She felt sick to her stomach at her contradicting thoughts.
"Why don't you say it, Pansy? You've known me all your life. Why can't you look at me and tell me what you think of me?"
"I can't…" she started, her sobs catching up with her voice so she closed her mouth. She swallowed her spit, looked up at him and chose to be honest too. "I can't because I don't want to hurt you, but I don't want to lie to you either."
Draco stayed stone-faced. She didn't see his heart break, she only watched as he turned his head, his mind gone as he felt the effects of her words. "Well. You wanna know something, Pansy?" He asked quietly. He didn't wait for an answer, for a nod, for an acknowledgment. He was done. "You can say it. I was terrified myself. When I saw it… when it attacked me… I was nine years old, Pansy."
He turned to her again. Her hand was back on her mouth, her tears crashing down on it.
"I was nine years old, and I did not ask for this. And all I wanted was to die. But we don't get everything we want in life, do we? There's so many things I wish I didn't have… So many things I wish I'd get… None of them I can hope to graze. And you know what? Sometimes… Sometimes, we'd be together, and I'd just…" He stopped, kept his sob down his throat again, closed his eyes to stop his tears. "I felt normal. I felt appreciated, and I'd wish I could feel this way forever…"
By that time, it didn't matter anymore if he had reacted too quickly, if he didn't try to have a calm conversation about it all. The rejection had triggered his defenses and again, he would do the actual pushing away, rather than letting anyone hurt him this way. He didn't want to hear what he was about to say, he wouldn't let her say it to him.
"So, you know what… Fine. I'll stay away. I'll stay away, and you'll be safe. Socially, too. 'Cause that's what you truly want, isn't it? It matters more than I ever could, doesn't it?" He stared at her face, knowing it would probably be the last time he'd see her this close. He never wished to make her cry this way, he never knew his condition would ever be the cause of her tears. Again, he regretted having told her anything.
He didn't know that she didn't want anything to change, but that she couldn't do anything to help it. He couldn't see how worried for him she was, because how could she show it to him? How did he expect her to react? She didn't have a choice, did she?
"Well, there you have it," Draco said bitterly.
Neither of them slept that night.