The numbness Hermione had grown to rely on was threatening to leave her as she sat within the Slytherins living room. The more Theo tried to lighten the mood, the more everyone tried to act like the situation was normal, the more she could feel the unease surfacing. To close off to your emotions is far easier when you are in a routine, when you have certainties, a place to hide from it all.
All things that she had lost that day.
Yes, she had lost a hell of a lot more than that over the last few years, but even if she was at odds with what the Order was doing, she had known for a very long time that was where she was supposed to be. Now… well now she was feeling the cracks in her walls beginning to tremble under the weight of it all.
She had not been part of the golden trio for a long time. Long lost was her standing as the golden girl. She had lost her best friends, her parents, countless members of the resistance, but she had always had the Order.
She had always had the Weasley twins to break the silence in awkward situations, always had the excitement of when Charlie arrived at camp, always had Snape to mentor her even if it was reluctantly, and always had Remus's calming presence, even if that calm sometimes drove her mad.
Sure she had Neville and Luna, she could contact Charlie, but she had lost so much at this point she wasn't sure who Hermione actually was anymore.
The rage she had been running on for so long had left and turned to hurt, to abandonment, and to confusion. How had the Order turned them out so quickly, and how had the Slytherins been the ones to help them when push came to shove.
So, she found herself sitting in the Slytherins living room, squished between Luna and a very excited Theo who was currently rambling on about the new movie he had talked them all into watching. At this moment in time all she could think was thank Merlin for Draco Malfoy, a thought she never would have believed she would have. But he had provided alcohol for them all and that was going to be the only thing to get them through this evening.
Hermione had never really been one for movies, finding it far more interesting to get lost within a story through written word, and she sure as hell didn't feel up to sitting here surrounded by people right now. She would have looked for an excuse to get out of this at the best of times, however after the day she had had all she wanted was to lock herself away in the quiet and process everything.
As the opening credits rolled she looked round the room, taking in the extremely odd gathering of people looking highly uncomfortable, well all bar Theo and Luna who seemed quite at ease.
Blaise, Pansy and Neville had squeezed onto the sofa to the right of them, and Draco had pulled a chair in from the kitchen and placed it as far to the left of everyone as possible.
As if sensing her staring he looked up, and she averted her eyes as quickly as possible.
Draco Malfoy was an anomaly, always had been, and Hermione didn't like the unknown. This was why she had always been unable to ignore him, unable not to rise to his bait, because you can't solve a puzzle by avoiding it. His actions today had been yet another puzzle piece, however she couldn't help feeling like every time she was rewarded with a piece, instead of solving the puzzle it just grew bigger.
No, Malfoy no longer seemed like a puzzle but a labrinth.
Theos choice of movie title hadn't been lost on anyone, 10 Things I Hate About You was hardly a subtle pick given how much Malfoy had been sulking since agreeing to allow them to stay. However it wasn't the title, or even the plot, that caused the next hour and a half to be one of the most torturous Hermione had been subjected to.
They may be in the middle of a war, may have lost people, killed people, but none of that compared to being the only muggleborn in a gathering of witches and wizards watching an American chick-flick.
"STOP! There's Dolores!" Theo had almost rolled off the sofa laughing, and Hermione couldn't unsee it as soon as he had made the comparison to the Principal.
"No, absolutely not, she has a bloody cat mug!" Blaise had joined in, followed by Pansy's horrified cry of "She just purred!".
Then, despite how many times Hermione had to reassure Neville that she had never had to dissect a frog or toad in class, and that it really didn't happen in Muggle schools in the UK he had gone on and on, "I can't watch any more. That one just stabbed someone's pet with a pocket knife!"
To which Blaise rightfully pointed out he had stabbed numerous people with more than a pocket knife, but Neville insisted this was different. Eventually Blaise had just rolled his eyes as Neville muttered "Poor Trevor didn't know how good he had it."
Pansy, always so put together, was practically drooling over Heath Ledger. Hermione couldn't help but smirk as she remembered that same expression from Parkinson in third year as she nursed Malfoys 'injury' from Buckbeak.
She had definitely not been watching Dracos reactions to the film, curiosity over his silence had just caused her to glance over to see if he was still watching - that was all. During those small glances she had noticed how he would place his hand in front of his mouth so no one could see when he found something amusing, or how he would roll his eyes when he found something ridiculous.
Apparently there was a heart in there, and a sense of humour, he just didn't want anyone to see it, not even in his own home.
The fact she was humanising the ferret should have been the first sign it was time to go to bed, but clearly the brain she was so well known for had upped and left her this evening.
The next sign should have been when everyone finally started to sort out sleeping arrangements and the option to actually go to bed was now there. Or when Luna, Neville and Pansy went off to their rooms to sleep.
But no, instead she had found herself sitting out on the balcony with Blaise, Theo and Draco, listening to them debate the plays of a quidditch match in fifth year. All she could gather from the conversation was that each of them were as happy to do a little cheating as the next if it meant winning. Apparently the damn game and talk of it was something she would never escape, and she felt a lump in her throat, for a moment her memories slipped back to late nights in the common room with Harry and Ron as they talked strategy.
This day had just gone from one extreme to the other, and Hermione fought to keep herself from succumbing to how overwhelmed she was. Distracting herself from giving in to the panic that was rising by drowning it out with the Ogdens in her hand.
She had built an extremely high tolerance to alcohol over the last few years, it was pretty common for everyone in the Order to partake in drinking regularly. Understandable really, it was hard to be at the losing end of a war and not want to forget about it all for a while, and Hermione had more than most to need wiped from her mind. However it meant that by now it didn't overly have an effect on her, and despite drinking twice as much as the three males here she was only just starting to feel a little more mellowed out.
Not quite tipsy, but definitely time to slow down, not keen on the idea of not being completely with it around the Slytherins even if they had proven to be slightly less pricks since their school years. All Hermione had been left with over the years was her mind, and the idea of it not being up to scratch to bite back when needed in present company was not something she was willing to risk.
At some point Theo and Blaise had migrated inside, and she had only zoned in enough to register the silence when they clicked the living room light off. There were small fairy lights around the balcony, no doubt Pansy's doing, but they offered little compared to the lights of the city around them. The sight was beautiful, and for a small moment you could almost imagine that the world wasn't going to shit.
"It's something else isn't it?"
Hermione startled, almost having forgotten Dracos presence until his voice broke the silence.
"Do you ever feel for them? The fact they don't know they are being hunted? The fact they don't know they are hated?"
Draco tilted his head slightly as he considered her question before responding quietly "I think I would prefer to not know, to be able to have a life until it happens. It's not as if the muggles could do anything to stop it really is it?"
It was a rhetorical question, they both knew that if the magical world couldn't hold back Voldemort that the muggle world had no chance. So instead of responding she grabbed the tobacco out of her pocket and rolled two cigarettes, handing one to the blonde beside her who offered the tip of his wand for her to light up on.
It was a surprisingly comfortable silence, the smoke dancing into the sky and the lights of the world around them causing a serenity that Hermione hadn't felt in a very long time. A moment of peace, of reprieve, a moment to pretend.
"I think I know what you mean," it was her turn to break the silence, "I don't think I can remember just…living. I don't think I really have been able to since I found out magic was real, not the way that you really should anyway."
"Honestly I'm not sure any of us ever did." Draco added, "Between the lot of us we didn't exactly have normal childhoods. Believe it or not I probably got the luckiest out of us all."
"Tell me about them?" She asked, and with his raised eyebrow she elaborated, "Your parents, tell me about them?"
She half expected him to tell her where to go, so his almost whispered "Why?" caught her completely off guard.
"I know what it's like, to lose them to those vultures. I also know that it hurts that no one really knows who they were like I do, that no one will remember them as strongly as I do."
She watched as he swirled the amber liquid in his glass, his eyes trained on it like it would give him the answer he was looking for. She turned back to look out across the skyline, convinced that that was all the conversation she was going to get, when he finally began to speak again.
"The others knew them like their own, they may have done some terrible things but eventually they were doing everything they could to protect us. I can't tell you why they got involved in the first place with him, but I'm guessing it was the same brainwashing I had lived with for years. Theo once told me he had read about the muggles having a man called Santa? That he was some vigment of the imagination that muggles made up a story for, and that muggle children all believe in him? Well once you all were old enough you figured out it wasn't true, that he wasn't real, that magic wasn't real, " The eye roll he gave after that was so typically Malfoy that it reminded her exactly who she was having this conversation with. "Well muggles are real, and magic is real, and the things they have done to magical beings, witches and wizards is all real. We are taught to live in the shadows out of fear they will find out about magic, from when we are no age we are told to hide what we are at our very core, and that's probably why we don't realise that what we are told is only stories when we are no longer children. My parents were good people, far better than I could ever be, they just didn't know they had been lied to since they could understand what was being told to them."
Hermione was stunned into silence, she had spent so many years hating the man in front of her, being belittled and bullied by him, yet at this moment he was being open with her. She didn't know how to feel, or how to respond, but luckily Draco felt the need to continue.
"The others' stories aren't mine to tell, but they all knew they could come to my mother for help and guidance, that she would love them no matter what. My father…my father was actually a very quiet man. He would sit with us all, him and my mother in the gardens, when we were all little and ran around causing mayhem. The one thing he was never quiet about though was when any of us were treated wrongly. I've lost count of the times he made Nott Sr. walk out with his tail between his legs, not enough to stop him long term, but enough to at least let Theo stay with us for long periods of time."
"Ah, suddenly the 'My father will hear about this' comments make sense." Hermione smiled, trying to break the heavy tension.
Draco snorted, actually snorted, a laugh. His eyes shone, reflecting his sadness but also the happiness the memories he had were bringing him. She couldn't help but wonder the last time he had felt like he could talk about his parents, or if he ever had. The Slytherins always gave off such a cool and collected demeanour, never showing outwardly their affection even at eleven years old, but deep down she knew these four could not be as close as they were had they not shared things together. Maybe not verbally, not sitting around talking about things like her and her friends had, but they had lived through it all together.
"He did in fact sort the things though, didn't he?" Draco smirked at her, and poured them both another measure.
"Mostly," She replied and nodded her thanks as she raised her glass, "Luckily you always had us to counteract all the stupid things you moaned about. Buckbeak's still alive, did you know?"
"What the hell is a Buckbeak?"
"The Hippogriff you tried to get killed due to your own stupidity. Escaped with Sirius Black, and to this day is still floating around between camps." She couldn't hold back the laugh as she saw the shock flicker across his face at her words.
"Not one of my finest moments admittedly…" He said, pausing to drain his glass again. "Though in hindsight, really not even in the top 10 deaths caused, or should I say should have been caused, by my actions."
The words sucked every bit of humour from the air, and yet again McGonagals final moments flashed in Hermione's mind. For one moment, one tiny slip, she had almost forgotten who she was talking to. She had still not decided if she was horrified or relieved at his actions, knowing it was a mercy for the Professor, but equally not knowing how she ever found herself being pleasant with someone who had killed her. The thoughts must have poured out of her mouth because Draco was responding as such.
"If I hadn't of done it someone else would have, but not before they made sure they got all of you and brought her as close to death without doing it numerous times over. You have no idea what they do Granger, your worst nightmares wouldn't even scratch the surface of the things I've seen those prisoners go through. You can hate me all you like, believe me when I tell you that you will never hate what I've done more than I do."
"I don't need permission to continue thinking of you the way I always have Malfoy, and I sure as hell am not ignorant to what they would have done to her. What I can't understand is how the hell you could hate someone as kind as her to be able to mean that curse."
"Hate isn't the only thing that fuels a killing curse Granger. You have to mean it, and I sure as hell meant it when I didn't want the woman to end up at the hands of the death eaters." Draco rubbed his eyes, looking completely done with the whole conversation. "You won't like the things I have done, you won't like the things I will have to do, hell you don't even like me, but maybe you should stop for a moment to realise that not a single one of us are doing the things we would actually like to do. We are trying to survive, and all we can hope for is that if we don't survive we at least die quickly and painlessly."
"Those are some big words from someone who has only shown cowardice as far as I've seen."
At her response Draco set his glass down and took a step towards her, closing the gap between them to only a few inches. She didn't flinch as he brought his hand to her chin, and she met his eyes as he tilted her head up towards himself. She felt like a deer in headlights, certain that she had taken this conversation one step too far and she was going to have to beat Malfoys ass for whatever retort was coming next.
"I may have been a coward Granger, but I promise you that I will move heaven and earth to rectify the things I once let slide." His voice was barely above a whisper, but the determination in it almost made her shiver.
Before she could process a response he dropped his hand while taking a step back, disappearing into the house so quickly if she blinked she would have missed it.
A puzzle indeed. She thought, raising her hand to touch where he had been, unsure how to unpack the day's events and desperately trying to ignore how her skin still felt like it had a lingering buzz from where his hand had sat.