Shades of Grey

Chapter Thirteen: Broken Confessions

"It's often just enough to be with someone. I don't need to touch them. Not even talk. A feeling passes between you both. You're not alone."

- Marilyn Monroe

There were few things about Hogwarts that Hermione Granger didn't like. Despite all the trouble that had come with the school, this institute had been her haven growing up-she learned everything within the aged walls of this castle, and anything she didn't learn in class, she checked out of the library and informed herself on. It was a beautiful school, really-magnificent entirely on its own and regal in the most sophisticated sense of the word. It was more than she'd imagined as an ecstatic eleven year old girl, and each year that she'd returned to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, her fascination with the established boarding school never faded or ceased.

It wasn't perfect. Granted, nothing ever was, but somehow-through its flaws-Hogwarts had been perfect for her. Imperfectly wonderful. It had been homage to her own world of magic, and everything about it was worth remembering. The good, the bad, everything in-between. All of it.

But despite that-despite the memories that Hogwarts brought her-Hermione couldn't deny that there was something...peculiar about staying here. She felt as though her time in the castle was expired, if that made even the smallest bit of sense. She'd gone through the motions of her education; she'd lived and learned to the fullest. She wasn't meant to be here anymore-she was supposed to have moved on. Taken up a job and bought a nice flat in London. And while she did, technically, have those things...here she was. Back at square one.

It was these thoughts that kept her up that night; tossing and turning in the vain attempt to get even an hour or two of sleep. She knew she'd be exhausted come morning, and made a mental note to ask for the largest brew of coffee Hogwarts had on staff and chug the contents right out of the pot if it would help to keep her awake. Her mind was frantic; all over the place with memories of her time spent at the school, fear that the Stone would somehow be discovered among their possessions and stolen (it was, after all, a rather small object), and speculation as to where the Wand could be. The Cloak was safe with Harry, The Stone was tucked away into Hermione's charmed bag (she'd checked to be sure at least half a dozen times in the last two hours alone), so that just left...the Wand. One third of what they needed, which in retrospect didn't sound too monumental, but with power such as the Elder Wand, well...it meant a hell of a lot.

It meant everything.

It was nearing two in the morning when Hermione decided she could toss and turn no longer. Groaning inwardly, the Witch pulled herself up into a sitting position, brushing her frizzy hair out of her face and tucking an errant curl behind one ear. She exhaled in a puff, blinking a few times as he eyes adjusted to the dim lighting of the room; illuminated only by the shafts of moonlight that slipped through the window cracks behind the curtain. Tossing the covers off her legs, she moved to stand, pushing away from the bed and making her way across the room to the windows. The room was quaint; traditionally furnished and well-kept, from the looks of it. McGonagall had given both her and Malfoy a suite to share, and Hermione thanked Merlin when she discovered upon entrance that it was broken up into two bedrooms-separated by a mahogany door. It allowed each of them the privacy they so desperately needed. Especially given the...state of things between them. How awkward and uncomfortable she felt in his presence.

The floor was cold, and Hermione shivered as she tugged on the sleeves of her sweater, padding across the room and moving towards the heavy curtain that hung in front of the windows. With a dainty hand, she drew the velvet curtain back, peering out into the dark silence that flooded Hogwarts at night. The air outside seemed still; in the distance, she could see the lines of trees along the forest and grounds of the school ruffle slightly, indicating a faint breeze outside. The moon hung in the sky-bright, white and brilliantly illuminating the world around her. The night sky was basking in the moon's milky glow; a soft hue spreading across the land and casting shadows over everything. It was beautiful, truly, but Hermione couldn't seem to think of it as anything but lonely. Dark and cold and lonely was the world at this time of night, when everyone was sleeping and the Earth was in its solitude and peace.

It unsettled her more than she was willing to admit.

Her eyes skirted over to the door that connected her room to Draco's, the urge to walk towards it and throw the separator open growing stronger with every passing moment. She couldn't explain why she felt the desire to talk to him-to be near him-but she found that now, in her most vulnerable state with the moon's pearly hue casting over her figure and spilling across the stone floor of the castle, that she wanted to be near him. It was irrational and ridiculous and everything she'd told herself she didn't need. And yet...she needed to see him. She needed to make sure that he was okay; that he wasn't still upset with her for having promised McGonagall that they'd stay at Hogwarts for the night. She could only imagine why the youngest of the Malfoys wished to be as far away from the school as possible; she didn't want to assume anything, but at the same time, her curiosity was threatening to consume her. Why was he so against staying here-even if for the night?

Curiosity getting the best of her, Hermione cast one more glance in the direction of the school yard, her eyes sweeping across the deserted landscape before allowing her grip on the curtain to fall. The heavy velvet curtain slid in front of the window once more, cutting off the light that had filled the room and basking her in darkness once more. Parting her lips slightly and swiping her tongue across the soft plush of her lower lip, Hermione glanced around her room, her eyes making out the dark and shadowy outlines of the furniture occupying the room. She spotted the nightstand a few feet to her right, and shivering slightly, the young Witch made her way towards the wooden end table, feeling for her wand. Her fingers grazed the intricate handle of her weapon, and she exhaled a sigh of relief upon locating the wooden instrument. Her fingers curled around the cool wood of her wand, and she kept her arm tucked securely to her side, making her way across her room and moving towards the door that separated her from Draco.

Merlin, she was going to end up regretting this decision, wasn't she?

Inhaling sharply, she lifted the hand that wasn't gripping on to her wand, hovering against the door before rapping softly once, twice, three times.

No response.

She hesitated for a moment, deliberating on whether or not she should even attempt to enter his side of the apartment. What if he was sleeping? Or worse yet...what if he was awake and choosing to ignore her? The last thing she wanted was to start another fight, especially when things between her and her partner were already...tense enough as it was. She stood for a moment, shifting her weight from one foot to the other and nibbling on her bottom lip indecisively. Oh, to hell with it! All of it! She was Hermione Granger, for Merlin's sake! She didn't...she didn't get fretful and fearful over things like disturbing Draco Malfoy's peace! With this in mind, she stood straighter, exhaling once before sliding her hand down to the brass knob, twisting it and allowing the door to creak open slowly. She peered into the darkness that was Malfoy's room, struggling to locate the shadowy outline of his bed. Once she'd found it, she slipped inside his room, leaving the door behind her cracked as she made her way towards his bed, her hands growing clammy at the thought of waking him up and being shouted at for invading his privacy.

Merlin, was it just her, or was it bloody burning up in here?

Clearing her throat lightly, Hermione's eyes glanced across the bulky shadow that belonged to Draco's bed, noting with a bit of confusion that...it was empty.

Empty? But how? Where could he be?!

Her heart hammered violently against her chest; fear and anxiety over the absence of Malfoy flooding her system, much to her dismay. She had no idea what it was that caused such a reaction-her compassionate nature, perhaps? A feminine sort of impulse?-but Hermione was terrified. A handful of hours ago, she'd stiffly bid goodnight to her pale-haired accomplice, and now...now this? Just...gone? Her heart was beating so bloody fast she was almost certain it was going to explode from her chest, and her forehead broke out into a slight sweat as her frantic eyes searched his apartment, muttering a hysteric "Lumos" and running about the length of his rather small room. She searched everywhere for him, but to no avail. He was gone.

Just...gone.

"Malfoy?" Hermione whispered, her throat aching with the mere utterance of his name. She leaned back against the wall, using the hand that wasn't maintaining a firm grip on the handle of her wand to brush her rebellious curls from her face. If he wasn't in his half of the suite, and couldn't be found in hers, then...he had to be somewhere around the castle. His suitcase had been enlarged and was lying in the corner of the room, so he couldn't have gotten very far. And the likelihood of someone sneaking into the castle and abducting him was slim to none-protection enchantments and security had been increased tenfold since the conclusion of the Second Wizarding War. The only reason she and Draco had been permitted entrance was because Hermione had been sensible enough to inform Hagrid of her presence before she and Draco had arrived at the hut.

Godric, had that really only been a handful of hours ago? It seemed like a lifetime.

Come on, Hermione, figure it out, She thought to herself bitterly, squeezing her eyes shut tightly and causing a million stress marks to crinkle her forehead. She clenched her jaw, drawing her hand into a fist and pressing it against the middle of her forehead. If he wasn't here nor there, where the hell could she be? Her hand fell to her side, and she took in a heaving gulp of air, focusing all of her energy on figuring out where the youngest Malfoy could possibly be hiding out at.

The Slytherin Common Room? No, she thought, shaking her head slightly-the password would have changed by now. Besides, there would be no real reason for him to revisit it-it wasn't as though he had anyone from his former House that he wanted to keep in touch with. Everyone of their age had already left the school. What could it be, then? The Potions classroom? She nearly groaned at the thought-that was a ridiculous suggestion. He might have had a proclivity for the subject, but why would he have wandered off to the classroom in the middle of the bloody night? It had to be something that held some sort of meaning to him...something that he either wanted to remember or strove to forget.

Realization dawned on Hermione in that instant, hot and persistent as an epiphany coursed through her veins, aching and pulsating and brilliant. Her eyes shot open and a light gasp escaped the young Witch. She didn't know what awaited her at the end of this hunch, or even if it was anywhere close to being correct, but...but if she was right...if her suspicions were correct, then she knew exactly where to find her lost partner.

Feeling adrenaline pump through her veins, Hermione jogged from Draco's room back to her own, strengthening the amount of light that shone from the tip of her wand, rummaging through her charmed bag and grumbling to herself as she struggled to receive what she sought for. Coming across a pair of slippers, she exhaled in relief and slipped them on, grateful for the warmth they provided her near-frozen toes with. Brushing her hair off her shoulder, she then made her way to the door that led to the corridor of the tower they'd been placed in, opening it after a moment's hesitation and glancing up and down the corridor. The portraits hanging on the wall were all sleeping rather peacefully, but there was no sign of human life up and down the hall. Silently, she shut the door behind her, pausing for a moment before decisively taking a left, making her way down the corridor and struggling to make as little noise as possible.

"Put that damn light out!" came the gruff bark of one of the portraits, and Hermione murmured a sincere apology before dousing her wand. She knew better than to upset the portraits-soon all of them would stir and demand she turn down the light on her wand. Her slippers scuffed against the floor of the castle once or twice as Hermione made her way through the familiar castle, turning right here and left there as she made her way towards her destination. She didn't have much worry for someone discovering her-she wasn't a student anymore, after all; how much trouble could she get in for being caught out of bed, really?

Nevertheless, the young woman was certain to keep as quiet as possible. The area she'd supposed Malfoy had wandered off to wasn't too far away, and it was with a determination to discover him (though for what particular reason she was so keen on finding him, she didn't exactly know why) that she made her way through the castle. Pausing at the bottom of a flight of stairs, Hermione craned her neck and looked up into the blackness that overwhelmed the stone steps. The tallest tower in Hogwarts. The tower that looked over the sky and allowed people to observe the stars; to appreciate the scenery of the ancient castle and appreciate the beauty of this place for all it was worth. The tower she'd studied in, the tower she'd snuck up to with Harry their first year in an attempt to safely deliver Norbert to Ron's brother.

The tower that would probably mean more to Draco than anyone to else at the school.

Steeling herself, and praying to Merlin that the Gryffindor courage she was so recognized for would hold out, and her legs of lead soon began to carry her up the winding path that led to the tower. Her fingers brushed against the stone walls of the cramped and narrow stairwell, and more than once Hermione feared her legs would give way beneath her and she'd tumble down the length of the steps. When at last she reached the top, her eyes swept across the landscape of the tower; dark shadows were cast across the area, only illuminated by the shine of the moon that hung so brilliantly above them. A slight breeze filled the area, and Hermione took a large gulp of fresh air, her hazel eyes falling on the lean, slender silhouette of a man standing across from her. His back was turned to her, and he appeared to be hunched over the railing of the tower, looking out into the opening that it provided and gazing down at the world around him.

She couldn't help but wonder how long it had been since he'd been up here. Had he ventured to this wing of the school on the Battle of Hogwarts, or had he avoided it like the plague? She gingerly took a step forward, hoping that she'd gone unnoticed thus far so that she could study him further. Swallowing the knot that had begun to form in her throat, Hermione watched as he shifted slightly, leaning his weight on one leg as he stared out at the world around them.

Her lips parted slightly, as if to call out for him, but something stopped her. She wasn't sure if it was a fear that he would cast her away, or out of courtesy and respect, but she stayed quiet as she silently made her way across the tower towards him. It wasn't until she'd joined him by the railing, hesitantly placing her hands on the metal rail and craning her neck to look at him that he acknowledged her presence. A part of her wondered if he'd known she was there all along. Malfoy was, after all, much more observant than he led on. It unnerved her a bit, if she was being completely honest with herself.

"It's a bit chilly out," She commented softly, folding her arms around her chest and tucking them closer to her, hoping to keep warm as a cool breeze swept through the early November air. She resisted the urge to grind her teeth together, instead glancing over at his rather blank features and waiting for him to speak in kind to her statement.

"I suppose," was all he stated, the words coming out in a small murmur; almost as though he was...distracted. But how distracted could he be, really? They were the only two creatures up here on the Astronomy Tower, after all. Unless...his thoughts were dominating his being so entirely that it hindered his ability to even communicate properly? Or, more likely, he didn't wish to be disturbed. He didn't want her there.

That unnerved Hermione more than anything else tonight had.

"What are you doing up here?" She inquired gently, finding that the question was too fierce and intense for her to simply ignore. Rather than answer her directly, Draco grew silent for a few minutes, his gaze dropping down to his hands, which were clutching the cool railing fiercely.

"Just thinking," He replied, his voice hardly louder than a hushed whisper. Hermione nodded, nibbling on her bottom lip and struggling to come up with something intelligent to say in response to something so...evasive and vague. He wasn't the most skilled in the art of conversation, that much had always been certain about him.

"You know..." He began suddenly, his voice husky after a proper lack of conversation. Hermione stilled against him, watching him with wide eyes in fear that if she moved even a fraction of an inch, he would be distracted from his speech and cease to talk once more. She felt like she was addressing a fragile, delicate sort of creature; as though if she moved the wrong way or said something improper, he'd snap in front of her very eyes and break into a thousand pieces.

"I haven't been up here since that day," He continued, and Hermione's brows crinkled together slightly in order to listen as he spoke. "Back in sixth year...the day that Dumbledore...died."

"Oh," was all that Hermione could manage to say, her hands curling into fists from where they were tucked against her, and she wrapped her arms around her more tightly. "Not even, uhm...not even during the battle?"

"Especially not during the battle," He breathed, his voice wavering slightly.

"Malfoy," Hermione mumbled, his surname tumbling past her lips ungracefully. She scooted closer to him subconsciously, her hands moving to grip the rail in front of her. Slowly, her right hand slid closer to his second, and she swore she could feel the erratic pounding of her heart against her chest; the beating filled her being-it overwhelmed her and rushed through her ears in a fast, uneven sort of beat. If he moved any closer, she was sure to combust right then and there! "You don't still...it wasn't your fault-that night."

Draco only snorted in retort.

"What happened that night, just-you weren't the one who killed Dumbledore," She continued softly, her throat aching at the mention of her former Headmaster. "I don't-I can't pretend to know how you felt, or what it was that must have been going through your mind. I wasn't there, so I can't...defend you, or defend what happened. Dumbledore's gone now, but not by your hand. No, I just...I go by what Harry told me about that evening."

"Potter," Draco grumbled, his voice strained as he choked out his school nemesis' surname. "I'm sure he told you such wonderful things about that night." Hermione grew silent for a moment, her lips pressed together thoughtfully as she pondered an accurate reply to his bitter statement.

"He told me you were lowering your wand," She breathed, the words barely ghosting past her lips. But he could hear him-she was sure of it, based on the way his body grew rigid next to her own. "He told me what Dumbledore said to you. You might be many things, Malfoy-you're arrogant and conceited; hot-tempered and prejudiced against anyone who differs from you. You're full of faults, just like any other human being. There's a lot of things I can call you, Draco...but a killer isn't one of them."

Acting entirely on instinct and throwing caution to the wind, Hermione's hand slid closer to his own, and she moved to place her hand on top of his in a gentle and mildly affectionate manner. He flinched initially at the touch, but after a few moments of her dainty and warm hand pressed against his larger and more masculine one, she slowly began to feel the muscles in his hand relax; almost as if he was giving in to desire and the security of her touch.

"Why are you doing this?" He inquired suddenly, turning his face so that he could gaze down upon her. Slightly startled, Hermione blinked a few times in rapid succession, her lips twisting into a slight frown as she assessed his rather vague sentiment.

"Doing what, sorry?"

"This," He pressed, using the hand that wasn't resting beneath her own to gesture to her. "Saying these things to me. Especially after we...you know..." He trailed off, leaving the rest of his sentence up to the imagination for interpretation.

It didn't take a genius to understand what he was referencing to.

"I...I don't know," She answered honestly, shaking her head sadly and supplying him with a soft and shuddering sigh. "I'm supposed to stay away from you when we aren't working. Be infuriated at myself, you know, and all that-I'm supposed to worry about nothing but this mission, and while it is what dominates my thoughts all of the time, I can't help but..." She paused, her words trailing off as she felt her throat swell shut with an excess of emotion.

"...What, Granger?"

"...I can't help but find myself thinking about you," She confessed, her eyes sliding down to gaze at their hands. Hers, small and delicate, placed on top of his own. Her lips parted slightly, and Hermione idly traced her tongue against the soft plush of her lower lip, feeling her blood pulsating in her veins and filling her cheeks with a rosy sort of tint. She shouldn't have said that-a bloody rookie mistake, that's what that was! Feeling embarrassment flood her system, she snatched her hand away from his, exhaling in controlled bursts of air and bringing her hand to her chest, clutching at her chest and willing the pounding ache and thudding sensation to dull down. She was nearly certain that Malfoy could hear her heart-fluttering wildly against her rib cage and shaking her entire being. How could he not?

So lost in her own thoughts, Hermione almost didn't hear Draco speak up. In fact, if they hadn't been as close in proximity as they were, she doubted she would have comprehended anything he said.

"I have a girlfriend," was all he said. She felt her heart sputter slightly from within her chest, an aching and sinking feeling encompassing her. She had no right to be upset; no right to feel the slightest bit disappointed-because really! What was there to get upset over in the first place?! And yet...yet, she couldn't deny that it was there; a very present and tangible sort of ache in her chest.

But why?

She remembered Astoria Greengrass, of course; not initially, otherwise...things between her and Malfoy more than likely wouldn't have occurred, but upon remembrance that he was, in fact, a taken man, Hermione remembered the younger Witch. She hadn't known Astoria in school, what with the young woman being two years below Draco and herself, but she'd seen her at a few Ministry and Order events hosted after the conclusion of the Battle of Hogwarts. She was...undoubtedly pretty, so to speak; elegant and graceful in her well-bred appearance, and upon recognition that she was Draco's significant other, Hermione felt something akin to jealousy swell in her chest and spread through her being.

But she...she had no reason to be jealous. Right?

"-But I haven't thought about her at all since we've been...alone," Draco continued suddenly, his voice hesitating on the last word. Hermione turned to look at him once again, her brows drawing together and her face clouding in bemusement as she struggled to comprehend what it was Malfoy was attempting to convey to her.

"I-you-you haven't?" Hermione breathed, inhaling a shuddering breath and angling her body to face him. Draco did the same, their bodies mirroring one another in position as he gazed down upon her. Something in the air seemed to shift and change; the atmosphere was filled with a static sort of electricity, and Hermione swore that the tension would burst any moment.

Merlin, had it gotten warm up here, or was it just her?

"Not at all...that's got to mean something awful, doesn't it?" Draco continued, his voice a bit crisper this time than it had been only moments before. "But it's like...everyone expects us to end up together, you know? Everyone expects us to live up to the cliché Pureblood expectations and...get married, but I don't...I don't love her."

He...he didn't love her. He didn't love Astoria Greengrass, and Hermione-oh, Merlin.

"What are you trying to say, Draco?" She managed, his first name sounding heavy on her tongue.

"Fuck, Granger, I don't...I don't know," He stated in exasperation, lifting a hand to run through his white-blonde locks. "All I know is that...I haven't thought about her-not once. But then there's you, and your bloody...infuriating presence that has me thinking about you when I'm not supposed to, and I can't make a damn bit of sense of any of it. None o0f it, Granger, because the things I should think about her, I feel-" He allowed the rest of his statement to choke off, hanging in the air unfinished. He stared at her with a look of exasperation, his grey eyes widening and his lips parting slightly as he observed her. A slight breeze pervaded the Astronomy Tower, ruffling their clothes and hair as Draco allowed his unspoken confession to ring through the tense air between them, magnifying everything Hermione felt by tenfold.

Before Hermione could appropriately assess this...flood of information and process everything that had just occurred between herself and the youngest Malfoy, Draco moved forward, his hands sliding to cup her face with his slender, slightly callused hands, and pressed his lips against her own. Hermione inhaled sharply at the first sign of contact, his lips soft as they brushed against her own. After an initial moment's shock, Hermione melted into the kiss, her mouth working against his own in response. She shivered against his hands, the touch scorching her and setting her bones alight with a fierce sort of need. Hesitantly, Hermione lifted her hands to wrap around Draco's neck, threading in the silken blonde strands at the nape of his neck as she kissed him in response.

It was beautiful. She never thought she'd use such an adjective to describe a kiss, but that's exactly what it was-beautiful. His masculine frame felt like it was made for hers; all sharp angles and contours that melded effortlessly against her softer and more feminine frame. They'd kissed before, to be fair, but she still felt as though Malfoy knew exactly what to do. His mouth was heated and fervent against her own, and after a few moments of snogging, his lips parted and his tongue snaked out to flick against the sensitive crease between her lips. Hermione obliged immediately, opening her mouth and granting him access into the warm, wet heat of her mouth. She gave a soft moan in response as she felt the strong muscle of his tongue curl and twist around her own, struggling for dominance as he deepened the kiss between them. Hermione, feeling a familiar and warm tingling sensation build in her abdomen and spread through her limbs, clutched to her fair-haired partner tighter, her fingers fisting into the soft locks of his hair as she tugged him flush against her.

Nothing had ever felt as good as this-Hermione was almost certain of it, no matter how...clandestine and wrong it was supposed to be, kissing Malfoy felt right somehow.

Just when Hermione felt as though she was about to explode, Draco pulled away from her, releasing his grip on her face and staggering back a few inches. Nothing but the sound of their labored breathing filled the air around them-Malfoy dragging his tongue across his kiss-swollen lips and gazing at Hermione with wide and confused eyes (an image which Hermione surely mirrored in her own expression). The two stared at one another in the same dumbstruck fashion for a few moments, and just when Hermione felt as though she couldn't handle the silence any longer, Draco opened his mouth to speak.

"I-I need to go," He breathed quickly, glancing around the Astronomy Tower to assure himself that he hadn't forgotten anything. He moved across the expanse of the Tower quickly, pausing only once to glance back at her before moving to descend the staircase, leaving Hermione alone and shocked in the aftermath of their rather heated snogging session.

Alone, and more inclined to follow him than ever before. But she didn't-she couldn't. For despite what Malfoy had said; despite what he'd revealed to her, and despite the fact that he'd kissed her so suddenly and so passionately, Hermione knew in her heart that she couldn't follow him. For as much as she wanted to; for as desperately as she wanted him in that moment, he belonged to someone else.

He'd always belonged to someone else.

a/N: Well guys, NaNoWriMo's over, and so is my first semester of college! Things have been really hectic lately, but I'm glad I was finally able to sit down and finish this chapter before Christmas. I hope you've all had a wonderful year, and whether or not you celebrate something during this season, I hope it goes well for all of you! As usual, your thoughts are always appreciated! I hope you like the chapter; it's more of character development than anything else, but I have big plans for the next few chapters! Well, don't forget to review, and I hope you all have a great end of the year!