Disclaimer: The characters of Harry Potter featured in this story all belong to JK Rowling.
Chapter 13
Clad in only her bra and underwear, Hermione Granger leaned forward to peer at herself in front of the foggy mirror. She rubbed a patch of it clear and tilted back. Slowly, she lifted one hand to pinch at her cheeks.
Was her skin really that sallow?
Her hair hung in straggled wet knots; sad evidence of her lack of time nowadays to even brush a comb through it, much less wash it properly. Her frame had shrunk dangerously thin, to the point where she could see the outline of the bones in her back. Her skin was dry, her lips were cracked, and her features had lost their chubby glow. She was hard pressed to admit it but she even she had to concede that her pinched visage looked even more ferret-like than Malfoy's ever had!
Was this the face of Hogwart's savior?
The last few weeks had been a whirlwind of activity. With Draco out of commission, Hogwarts had been handed to her on a, well, somewhat tarnished silver platter. The first thing she had seen to was the sick and injured in the infirmary. Madam Pomfrey was holding up well, but there were so many that needed her attention that even she was swamped. Hermione had had to pick out a few Ravenclaws who were well versed in potion making to help in concocting the healing potions.
Next, she had seen to the repairs in the castle, most notably to the entrance of Hogwarts and the Gryffindor Tower. The latter was a dangerous area, and fallen beams and stones had regularly cascaded in response to any loud noises or large vibrations that were the result of spell casting. She was however particularly proud of the rebuilding of the tower, as she herself had a hand in magically bringing the stones back up, one by one, with the help of Professors Flitwick and Sinistra and Madam Hooch. Now, it was all ready to receive new occupants, save for the furniture that she had yet to conjure up. Unfortunately, this new Gryffindor Tower would not retain the same grandeur the old one had, as they had not the resources nor the time or energy to decorate it as prettily as its predecessor. She had, nonetheless repaired Ron's Chudley Cannons banner, placing it in an honorary position above the new fireplace, and wiping an errant tear away as she did so.
Somehow though, she was extremely reluctant to move out from the Slytherin dungeons despite having the Gryffindor Tower repaired. She had told herself and Draco that the reason for this was because she was loathe to stay in a roomful of noisy, meddling strangers, ignoring Draco's smirks all the time as she tried, and failed to even convince herself.
Draco himself was hale and healthy after one week's of forced bed rest. Madam Pomfrey had even put a compulsion charm on him to make sure he would not want to move a metre away from his bed. This was of course after she had caught him sneaking out in the day to see if he could help in the repairs (apparently he had been somewhat sorry that the Tower was destroyed. Neville Longbottom however knew better and knew Draco was only doing this to get into Hermione's good graces).
Her situation with Draco now was…well, no, she did not want to think of him here! For Merlin's sake was she not free of him even in the bathroom? Ever since he had been up and about…well, she'd think of that later.
She had also visited Ginny for the first time in weeks.
She had not wanted to. In fact, she put it off so many days that she finally began to feel disgusted with herself and her lack of the much vaunted Gryffindor bravery that she faced down her fears, and marched into the infirmary.
Most of the sick and injured had by now gotten better and had left the infirmary. Tonk's burns were fading gradually, and even she herself had joked about the smooth purple patches that covered one side of her body and face, saying that now she could change the colour of her hair to match her skin. Fred had also woken up from his coma, and was slowly but surely being rehabilitated. His attitude and fortitude had really made Hermione beam with pride. Walking slowly towards Ginny's bed, she glimpsed Molly Weasley sitting by the side of a sleeping Ginny, keeping vigil over a girl who would never come back. According to Draco and Madam Pomfrey, she had been doing that almost every night, ever since the day Ginny had fallen.
Asleep, Ginny looked infinitely peaceful and at rest. To Hermione, she resembled…Sleeping Beauty, forever awaiting her Prince Charming to come and wake her up; a Prince Charming who would now never come, forever lost to her. Mrs. Weasley was looking tenderly at her daughter, and glanced up when Hermione touched her shoulder.
"She looks so…at rest, doesn't she?" She wiped away a tear. "One part of me likes to think that she is in fact at rest. That she has already joined her Harry in the afterlife. Another part of me though can't help but hope that she might someday wake up. That one day, she would open her eyes and instead of seeing that creature in her, I would see my Ginny."
"I am so sorry Mrs. Weasley." Hermione whispered. She had been so selfish to sequester herself, while others suffered around her.
"Oh Hermione, it's not your fault. It's You-Know-Who's." Suddenly, she turned to grip Hermione's hand. "Promise me Hermione. Promise me you'll get him." Mrs. Weasley's eyes were shining so bright; with such a fierceness in them that Hermione dared not tell her otherwise.
"Yes, Mrs. Weasley. You have my word."
Hermione had no time to think on that promise though as nowadays she was preoccupied with a hundred and one duties. These included firming up the defenses of Hogwarts, researching new spells and ways that they might be able to defeat Voldemort, seeing to the day-to-day running of the castle (luckily she had very valuable help from Hagrid), planning new tactics to attack and defeat the Death Eater strongholds (which had by now even included St Ottery and Catchpole, much to her and Molly Weasley's distress), receiving reports from the aurors and spies that had come over to their side, and corresponding with the ministry, discussing, and, well, practically pleading with them of the efficacy of their plans.
This last part was Arthur Weasley's doing of course. She herself would not have anything to do with the Ministry and that idiot of a Minister if she could help it. However, Arthur was convinced that the Ministry had intelligence and resources that they could not very well ignore, if they were to win this war. Thus, she had relented and had even sent a letter of apology to that dratted man, gritting her teeth all the while and helping Arthur with the missives to the Ministry.
All in all, her duties, as well as the stress of having to keep up a cheery outlook to raise the morale of those hemmed in at Hogwarts had made her skip her meals and lose her sleep, causing Draco to nag at her daily to eat her food and to take regular breaks. If Draco were not there to remind her, Hermione thought that she would forget she was hungry altogether.
Draco and herself had additionally been involved in a secret task that only the two of them, and, Merlin help her, Trelawney knew about. It was about the contents of the prophecy about Harry and Voldemort that Trelawney had made, and Draco's words about it all those weeks ago had made her want to search for any kind of loophole within it that might help them. She and Draco had pored over their copy of the prophecy incessantly, constantly going to visit Trelawney in her perfume-drenched tower for advice and counsel. That woman of course had kept repeating that Prophecies were not understandable by mere mortals like Hermione, and that the truth of the prophecy was only known to the diviner and no one else. Draco had almost snarled at her in pure irritation when he had asked her why, since she was the diviner, could she not tell them what the prophecy meant? Trelawney of course had muttered some rubbish about how mortals were not meant to hear the words of gods, or something of the like. Hermione had told Draco in private later on that this meant that even she did not know what the heck she was spouting all those years ago.
The thought of Draco made her tingle down to her toes. He seemed to her to become more and more handsome every day, even as she became more gaunt and tired. He did not seem to mind though, and was constantly at her side, keeping her company, only leaving her to complete his own duties around the castle. Despite his supposed preoccupation with 'his authority' (as he had told her the night he shouted at Lavender for insulting Hermione), he had seemed…totally happy to give up all leadership to her, almost seeming like a puppy dog in the way he followed her around. One night she had even almost caught him staring at her by her bedside while she slept. She had partially opened her eyes, awoken by a slight sound on her left side only to see a silvery- blond blur streak back soundlessly towards Draco's bed. Later she had stayed awake the entire night, listening to Draco's snores while trying to convince herself that that could not have possibly been Draco.
The situation between them was…somewhat complicated to say the least. After Draco had gotten well, Hermione had analyzed her feelings and come to the decision that while she did feel something towards Draco; something that was…more than friendship but not quite yet love; she needed time to truly get over Ron's death, so that if, if mind, she did decide to pursue anything with Draco, she would not be so plagued with feelings of guilt and sorrow.
Of course one would say that she should have just stopped analyzing and started feeling, but this is Hermione Granger we are talking about.
Needless to say, Draco had sensed that Hermione had begun to distance herself from him, and was sometimes irritable and always persistent. He had somehow gotten the idea that needling and pestering her like he did in their second and third years (just without the malice and insults that had marked his treatment of her then) would be the way to woo her.
Maybe he was on to something, because he made it very, very hard for Hermione to ignore him. She kept thinking about him, about how infuriating, annoying, arrogant, exasperating, sweet, intelligent, witty, funny, tender, kind…STOP! She almost screamed to herself. This kind of thinking would only lead to madness.
Just as she was getting ready to put on the rest of her clothes, the doorknob suddenly turned and a very familiar and much loved/hated voice called out, "Hey Hermione, are you in there? I was just thinking…"
Staring at him and clad only in her underclothes she gaped at him while he gaped at her, looking as if Christmas had come early and as if…well…as if he had found the most precious treasure in the world and could now die in peace. Slowly, she clenched her fists at her sides and shrieked, "DRACO MALFOY YOU GET OUT RIGHT THIS MINUTE OR, MERLIN HELP ME I WILL HEX YOUR BALLS OFF!" Forgetting that she was almost naked, she brandished her wand and chased him out, making one Draco Malfoy very very happy that he had stepped in when he did.
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Author's Note: Rest assured, there will definitely be some quality DHr interaction in the next chapter. Also I hope this isn't too…happy. I had set out to write a more angsty story. Thanks for reading and reviewing everyone!
