Shades of Grey
Chapter Fourteen: Humanity
"You must not lose faith in humanity. Humanity is an ocean; if a few drops of the ocean are dirty, the ocean does not become dirty."
- Mahatma Gandhi
When he was younger, Draco often times linked emotions to different colors. A deep blue, for instance, made him think of sorrow so aching and tangible that he swore it would rip through his very core. A vibrant red reminded him of anger so fierce and blistering that it was scorching to the touch. A shimmering shade of silver was linked to his childhood and heritage, and therefore he associated the light color with propriety and class. For all the colors on the wheel, Draco was certain he could find some sort of emotion or memory to link it to; it was the easiest way for him to identify when he was feeling when he was younger. But now, as he went about preparing himself for the day in a numbing fashion, he found that for all he was worth, he couldn't find any shade of color accurate enough to describe his current state. There wasn't a color in existence that correctly portrayed what he felt whenever he looked at her; what happened to him when their fingers brushed or their lips whispered secrets to one another. For the first time in his life, Draco was at a complete loss to decipher himself, and that bothered him more than he was willing to admit.
Because for all it was worth, and for how much he'd struggled in vain, there didn't seem to be an emotion to explain what he felt for Hermione Granger.
Maybe he was just over-thinking things-perhaps there was a simple solution to this problem that he couldn't see because of how perplexed he'd been lately. But despite the amount of times in which the pale Wizard had struggled to remind himself of such a fact, he found it impossible to believe. There was something about the way he felt during and after their...interactions that left him foggy-headed and bemused, and there was no way that anything simple could be derived from such an astonishing reaction to her presence. But, as per usual, Draco chose to ignore his emotions for the time being-he was, after all, particularly skilled in shutting down that part of his personality in favor of moving forward. It had been one of the things that helped him get through school all those years ago, and it would help him get through this mission.
Really, it was the only option he had left.
So it was with a fierce sort of determination that Draco finished lunch in his room and completed preparation for their meeting today. He then exited the small room he'd been permitted to stay in at Hogwarts in favor of clomping down the tower's steps rather noisily. He focused on nothing but the patter of his loafers against the aged stone floor of the castle, breathing in and out and struggling to center all of his energy on what he and Granger had planned for today-delivering the Stone to Potter.
It had been a rather unanimous decision, really-neither Draco or Hermione felt comfortable possessing something so small and significant while on the move; Hermione was afraid it would get stolen, and Draco was worried they'd end up losing it. Either way, keeping the Resurrection Stone while there was still one Hallow lost out there wasn't the most...intelligent idea, so the day after their arrival at Hogwarts, Granger had composed a letter to Potter explaining that they'd successfully obtained the Stone, and that they wished for him to Floo to Hogwarts in Headmistress McGonagall's chambers at roughly three in the afternoon the following day. They hadn't heard back from him yet, but Hermione was thoroughly convinced it was a good idea to wait an hour or so in McGonagall's office for him. Perhaps he thought it was unwise to write back in case someone had intercepted the message, or maybe he just expected them to be waiting for them.
Either way, Draco found it bloody irritating. What if the idiot orphan never showed up? What if they waited around and wasted another day of idleness because Scarhead couldn't be arsed to show up to a meeting on time? He snorted at the thought his upper lip curling into a snarl as he made his way down one of the school's vacant corridors. One thing was for damn sure-if Potter didn't show up today, Draco was sure as hell going to say something to him about it.
As he neared McGonagall's office, he began to think about what had happened the night before last...it had been over twenty-four hours since Granger had found him alone on the Astronomy Tower. Roughly twenty-four hours since they'd kissed, and a bit over a day's worth of time since he'd admitted out loud for the first time that he hadn't even thought about Astoria since he and Granger had set out on this mission together. It had been something he'd refused to acknowledge for quite some time; sometimes at night, alone in his cot in the tent they shared back in the woods, he'd brush off the nagging thought and tell himself that it was simply because he hadn't had the time to think of anything but their mission. But that wasn't true, and he knew it full well. He thought about her all the time...thought about her when he really shouldn't have. He thought about the way her eyes widened slightly when she grasped hold of a tough problem she'd been struggling to find the answer to, the way her lips fought against the urge to curl into a smile whenever he said something she was pleased with. He thought about the way her curly hair bounced slightly as she bent over tables to furiously scribble something out onto parchment with her quill; he thought of these things all the time, and instead of being immensely irritated by these little quirks the young Muggle-born possessed, he found himself reflecting on them with what could only be dubbed as fondness.
Fondness. He linked fondness to Hermione Granger.
The thought was...disturbing, to put it lightly. Never in his life had he ever imagined he'd feel the slightest bit of positive emotion towards Gryffindor's one and only Mudb-Muggle-born heroine, and yet...here he was. He couldn't even call her the same names he used to without bloody choking up about it. He shivered slightly in the hallway, walking with an air of determination towards where he knew the Headmistress' office resided and told himself he wouldn't think about Granger anymore. It was a rather...impossible and unrealistic goal, to be sure, but...but he had a girlfriend. A girlfriend who he was planning on proposing to when he returned home. Even though he didn't exactly feel very enthused about it.
That wasn't a good sign, was it?
Resolving himself to focusing on the bigger task of the day, Draco paused right outside the extravagant entrance to McGonagall's office. Granger had told him the password the night before, and it was in a low tone that he murmured, "felis catus". He heard the door creak to life before him, and he watched as the winding staircase presented itself before his eyes. He moved forward, walking up the stairs towards the office, and by the time he'd finally entered the large and lavishly-decorated room, he noticed Granger was already there waiting for him. She was sitting down in one of the chairs facing the Headmistress' desk, fiddling with her wand in her lap and waiting rather impatiently for either himself or Potter to arrive. He wasn't sure which. Deciding to make his presence known, Draco cleared his throat, causing Hermione to jump slightly before her eyes shot in his direction.
"Oh," She breathed. "You're here."
"Of course I am," He said stiffly, as though it was the most idiotic assessment ever. He couldn't afford to let his guard down in front of her again; it was too risky. For both of them.
After a moment's hesitation, he inched closer to her, debating as to whether or not it was appropriate for him to take the vacant seat next to her, but eventually deciding it would be more beneficial to him to stand. A quick glance at the clock mounted on McGonagall's desk stated it was five till three, the proposed meeting date, and Draco shifted back and forth on the balls of his feet as he waited. Hopefully Potter would show up right away; then they could hand him the ruddy object, Granger could blabber on and on about their mission, then he'd leave and they'd be free to be on their separate ways for the evening. He told himself he felt smothered by her; that she was suffocating him with the amount of time they'd spent together, but he couldn't ignore the way his senses heightened and his heart raced in her presence.
Stupid bloody hormones.
"I hope Harry got my letter," She said suddenly, her voice laced with undertones of worry and anxiety. She was truly a wreck over this, wasn't she? He supposed he'd been so busy fixating on his own emotions and the need to separate himself from her before things got even more involved between the two of them that he'd ignored her emotions completely. For some reason or another, this upset him; it made him irritated with himself. But why? Why did he give a shit about her feelings? Why did he care that she was upset and hadn't shared it with him? Furthermore, why was he angry with himself for not having noticed her nervousness earlier?
It was the ultimate question, really. One that led to no clear answer at this point, which only served to irritate the young man even more.
"I'm sure he did," Draco mumbled in response, his toe scuffing the floor of McGonagall's office. He glanced around the room, noting the various trophy display cases, portraits of past Headmasters, and trinkets that decorated the room. It sent a chill up and down his spine to acknowledge that not so long ago, a different person had sat behind the large desk and ranked over everyone at school. Someone elderly with crescent-shaped spectacles and a long beard. Someone he'd been responsible for...
No. He wasn't going to do that to himself again. Not in front of her; not here, not now.
"But we can't know that for certain, Dra-Malfoy," She managed, stuttering as she tried to cover up her...mistake. He fought against the urge to tell her she didn't have to address him by his surname; it would have made things too personal between them. But then again...they'd been a hell of a lot more intimate with one another the past few months, hadn't they?
Damn it, he was thinking about it again.
Another quick glance at the clock told him it was a minute until three, and Draco's hands balled themselves into fists at his sides as he waited anxiously for the minute to roll into the next hour. He clenched and unclenched his fists, if only so that he had something to occupy his time with as he waited for Potter to arrive. Hermione seemed to pick up on the time, too, for she soon grew stiff and perched on the edge of her chair, her fingers clutched tightly around both her wand and the small bag she'd kept the Resurrection Stone in. Perhaps they could put all of this behind them soon, then; maybe Potter would come with news that they knew where the Elder Wand was hidden and then they could wrap things up. Maybe they were already in the process of defeating Bellatrix...maybe, just maybe, things were finally coming to an end. But for some reason, the thought of drifting back into his rather monotonous life didn't give Draco the sort of elation he'd been hoping for. On the contrary, it filled him with a crippling sense of regret. But then that in itself rose another question-
Regret over what?
As Draco mulled this over, the clock continued to tick by at what felt like a glacial pace. By the time he dared to glance at the clock once more, it was roughly five after three. Five minutes late. Draco tried not to let this discourage him, but he couldn't help but think that maybe Potter didn't get the letter after all; maybe it had gotten lost or the bird in charge of delivering it had become injured. Maybe he'd simply thought it was foolish to meet them at Hogwarts. But if the latter was the case, surely he could have managed to write them a letter in return, right?
So then where the hell was he?
As the clock was nearing ten minutes after the stroke of three, Draco heard the fireplace crackle slightly. Hermione bolted up from her chair, standing quickly and clutching the items she'd brought with her in her hands tightly, shifting from one foot to the other and watching as the fireplace seemed to roar to life. But rather than igniting with a mixture of golden and bright orange flames, the fire turned a vibrant and startling shade of green-an indication that the Floo network had been activated. Draco waited, albeit impatiently, as the silhouette of a masculine figure emerged from the fireplace, and blinking twice, none other than Harry Potter loomed into view.
Clearly relieved by his mere presence, Draco heard a soft rush of breath evacuate Granger's lips, and she was moving towards her friend, flinging her arms around him and hugging him tightly. Potter seemed confused by this gesture, and after a few moments hesitantly wrapped one arm around the petite Witch's build. A bit odd, really...hadn't the bumbling trio always been rather affectionate with one another? They hugged all the fucking time, anyways, yet Potter almost seemed as though her rather forward display of affection was distasteful. Perhaps it was just a figment of Draco's imagination, because Granger surely didn't seem to recognize any sort of difference in him.
"Harry, I was afraid you hadn't gotten my letter!" Granger exclaimed breathlessly, backing away and facing their leader a bit more fully. Harry merely shook his head-a quick and jerking sort of movement that left Draco uneasy. There was something...off about the orphan, but then again, hadn't there always been in Draco's eyes? He decided to brush it off as one of Potter's odd quirks, shifting slightly from where he stood and stuffing his hands in his pockets. He supposed he was really only here to nod and listen; Granger was the one with the Stone. Granger was the one who was friends with him. Granger was the one who liked to try and take charge.
Granger. Granger. Granger. Granger.
"Oh, no, I uhh...I got it, I just didn't think it would be smart to send one back, you know?" He asked rather breathlessly. There was something odd about the way he spoke...like he was struggling to communicate to her. His voice sounded a bit...thicker, if that made even an ounce of sense, and Draco shook his head once to clear his thoughts. He was just so used to noticing the odd things about him, that was all it was.
"Oh, right," Hermione replied, nibbling on the bottom of her lip for a moment. She clutched the bag tighter in her hands, observing Harry for a moment and tilting her head to the side slightly, an indication that she was lost in thought. He'd noticed her make that same face at least half a dozen times since they'd started this mission together.
"Harry..." She began, but Potter cleared his throat and cut her off.
"We don't have much time," He said rather impatiently, glancing towards the fireplace with a cautious sort of glimmer in his eyes. "You said you've located the Resurrection Stone, correct?" Hermione nodded her head slightly, and Draco would swear that out of the corner of his eyes, he saw her arm flex slightly-as though she was tightening the grip on the bag holding the Hallow in it. But why? Was she honestly still so protective over the damn thing, even inside the castle? Where they were safe and free of harm?
"I...know, Harry, but listen," Granger spit out in a rush, fumbling over her speech and inhaling a jagged rush of air before deigning to continue. There was something about the way she spoke to him...something that was laced with doubt and a hesitancy to speak. Merlin, this entire Bellatrix fiasco had really made a mess of the Muggle-born war heroine, hadn't it?
"Dr-Malfoy and I still don't have any clue as to where the Stone might be hidden...do you have any idea where it might be?" She inquired, her hazel eyes set hard on his piercing green ones. There was something...odd about their conversation with one another; something that made Draco's skin crawl and his mouth grow sour. It wasn't like they were friends anymore; it wasn't like they were even cordial. They seemed...cold, cautionary, distant. Things that set off warning signals in Draco's mind. Potter and Granger had been friends for as long as he could remember-even after the Second Wizarding War, being a redeemed member of the Order, Draco had noticed they had been as close as ever.
So then...what the hell had changed?
"Dunno...did you check Dumbledore's grave?" Harry said halfheartedly, giving a slight shrug of his shoulders; it was a quick and jerking sort of action...one that made Draco apprehensive all over again. Hermione studied him warily, clearing her throat and enclosing her fingers around the bag that held the Stone, studying him with that same look of contemplation on her features. After a few seconds had passed in a similar fashion and Draco thought as though this exchange with Scarhead was going to last a bloody century, Potter spoke up again.
"Uhh...the Stone?" He asked again, rather expectantly holding his hand out. "I told you, I haven't got a lot of time...things back at Headquarters are still kind of frantic." It was as he was demanding to take possession of the Resurrection Stone that Draco noticed her arm flex once more from under the confines of her clothes, and he stilled immediately. Something...wasn't right. The air had shifted the moment Potter had entered the room, and the tension had been on high ever since.
"Who's back at Headquarters, Harry?" Hermione pressed, her voice sounding small as the words squeaked out. A fleeting look of panic crossed Potter's bright green eyes, as though he'd forgotten himself, but then he was spitting out a quick response.
"The Weasleys," He said quickly, jutting his chin forward slightly. The Weasleys...something about the way he addressed them sounded wrong. Like the word was full of malice and detachment. Something not to be expected, given the fact that he was friends with them all and dating the youngest of the rodent clan. Had Potter had a falling out with them, as well?
"The Weasleys," Granger murmured in response, and Harry sighed once before reiterating that yes, it was the Weasleys, and held out his hand once again-much pushier this time than he had been before. Rather than reach out and hand him the bag, however, Granger seemed to recoil from his touch. She took a step back, her previously curious eyes now gazing at him with both skepticism and accusation.
"Harry didn't put the Elder Wand in Dumbledore's grave," She said quietly, the words barely coming out as she addressed him. Something was off in the way she spoke-why was she referring to him by his first name? As though he wasn't there? One bright brow quirked as Draco studied her, his gaze flickering back and forth from the orphan to his companion.
"You haven't called me by my name since you arrived...you're demanding and stiff and...and...you called Ron and Ginny the Weasleys," Hermione continued, backing up another inch and gripping her wand in her hand. Draco watched slowly, his gaze moving over to where Potter stood, and a flicker of recognition overwhelmed his features for a moment. He didn't like the way Scarhead was staring at Granger...his gaze was predatory, almost; enough to make Draco want to punch the git in the bloody face. It wasn't a natural sort of look; it was one that made his skin crawl.
"Malfoy," She said slowly, never removing her eyes from Harry. "Get a grip on your wand." Confused, Draco slowly lifted his wand, showing her that he did, in fact, have a firm grip on it, and it was only now that he paid any attention to Harry.
Potter's lips were curled back into a snarl, baring his teeth, which were...yellow. A disgusting, rotting shade of yellow that hinted of poor hygiene and years of carelessness. It was enough to make Draco want to turn the opposite direction and gag, but he knew for a fact that Potter's teeth had never looked like that. The thought of making some sort of joke at the orphan's expense rose to his mind, but for some reason or another, Draco didn't think that was the brightest idea.
It was probably best not to, really, given what happened next.
One moment, Draco had been contemplating over Potter's disgustingly decaying teeth, and the next, said yellow-toothed Wizard was lifting his wand and pointing it at...Hermione. Granger's eyes widened with what appeared to be a mixture of shock and comprehension, and she only managed to stumble out of the way just as Harry growled, "Expelliarmus!" in her direction. Draco, still shell-shocked in the aftermath of what had just happened, barely managed to duck behind a chair before Potter could aim for him. He glanced over at Hermione, hidden behind a rather large trophy display and panting as she stuffed the bag with the Resurrection Stone deep into her pocket.
"What the fuck is wrong with him?" He mouthed, and Hermione's brows furrowed together for a fraction of a second as she struggled to comprehend what it was he'd said. No sooner had she opened her mouth to respond when suddenly, the sound of a glass trinket shattering around them disrupted their thoughts. Draco peered around from where he was hidden, noticing now that the striking green orbs that Potter was so well known for were replaced with those of a dark brown, and his frame seemed much...burlier than before. And that's when everything that Draco had been suspicious of-Potter's attitude, his manner of speaking, his avoidance of certain things such as Granger's name...it all pieced together.
This wasn't Potter. This was someone else.
In fact, the more this...figure seemed to transform into someone else, the more Draco began to recognize its form. The face of the intruder seemed to contort and twist itself into a disgustingly twisted mold with a sinister expression embedded into his features. His dark eyes were alight with determination, and his skin seemed to lighten to a sickly shade of pale; a color that made even Draco's already-light skin seem healthy and vibrant. The tufts of wild black hair that Potter was so well known for seemed to fall from his head, being replaced with greasy strands of dark hair that framed the man's face, reaching down to his chin and curling on the ends from the filth that resided in his tresses. It was only now, with the transformed figure of a monster standing before them, searching for his targets and the best way to attack them, that Draco recognized the man who had been parading around as the Chosen One.
This was Antonin Dolohov, and he was clearly here on a mission.
"Dolohov," Draco whispered, the word falling from his lips without any restriction. The man's beady eyes jerked in Draco's direction, and his lips curled back to reveal his teeth in a beastly snarl. He lifted a hand and pointed it in the direction of Draco, aiming and spitting out a hex that Draco couldn't quite identify. The pale Wizard ducked the spell, just missing as a particularly odd and brightly-colored purple bolt of magic whizzed past him, hitting a vase in the corner of the room and causing the decoration to explode into a thousand tiny fragments of painted glass.
"Blood Traitor," The Death Eater responded, spitting the word out with a clear display of resentment and malice. Draco froze for a moment, his brows tugging together as he foolishly glanced the room for any sign of the Weasleys. It was only when he realized that he and Granger were still very much alone with the brute of a man that he acknowledged that...he was the Blood Traitor. Him, Draco Malfoy-he who had spent the majority of his life condemning those of "inferior" bloodlines and making it known to the world that his superior status placed him above his classmates. But now he was one of them; a Blood Traitor, condemned and branded with another mark for this treason against the high class of Pureblood elitists-an invisible mark that would carry on for the rest of his life and smudge his untainted blood in the eyes of those who placed themselves so high above the rest of the world. He was a soiled Wizard now to even the community he had once belonged to, and he knew that he should have felt remorse for this newfound title; he knew he should have made a display of proving his worth as a Pureblood and a Malfoy heir-he knew he should have repented for joining the Order and tell himself he'd only done it to keep his family safe.
But the only thing he could think of was Granger and keeping her safe.
As if on instinct, his eyes snapped over to the hidden location of Hermione, who was making sure the bag with the Resurrection Stone was hidden securely in her pocket and clearly preparing herself to make a move. Dolohov must have seen the way Draco's eyes flickered over to the corner, for they followed and he bounded forward towards Hermione, his intentions clear on his cruel features. Draco glanced around, noticing Hermione crouching down and securing her footing-she looked as though she was ready to bound out and attack him, seeing as how she was cornered between a raving mad Death Eater and a cluster of furniture. In that moment, all he could focus on was her-making sure she was safe, assuring himself that she didn't get harmed, and so Draco acted on an animalistic need and instinct first and foremost. He pushed off from where he was splayed on the ground, running towards the Headmistress' desk. His hands were trembling, and while the idea of pointing his wand towards Dolohov's back and spitting out a curse sounded tempting, he knew his aim and the proximity of the man to Granger put too much at risk-he might accidentally hit her instead.
Determined, Draco's brows drew together and he pushed off with his feet, landing on the desk and sliding slightly before redirecting his attention. A few slips of parchment fluttered around him, some floating to the ground and others crumpling as the heel of his loafer dug into the desk, securing his footing as he watched Hermione deflect hex after hex that Dolohov angrily sent in her direction. If there was anything to be grateful for in this moment, it was that Granger was skilled with spells-it wouldn't surprise him if she was able to best him before he could get to them in time. But...just to be safe...
Dolohov's attention was so focused on Granger that there wasn't a sodding way in hell he could have seen Draco coming. Grunting, Draco shoved off from the desk, launching himself the short amount of distance into the air before latching himself onto Dolohov's back. His heels dug into the man's sides, and Draco winced initially as he heard the crack of Antonin's rib cage as Draco's heels dug fiercely into his abdomen. His fingers groped for something to hold onto, finally finding purchase in the heavy robes he was wearing (which happened to be too short now that he'd transformed back into his natural form-if the situation wasn't so frantic, Draco might have allotted himself some time to chuckle at the sight). Dolohov gave a cry of pain as Draco's feet dug into his sides, and scrambling to keep his grip on his wand, Draco kicked one foot up and dislodged Dolohov's wand from his loose grip, watching as the dark wand-and the Death Eater's only weapon-clattered to the ground and rolled across the floor.
"Go, Granger! Go!" Draco screamed as a wide-eyed, astonished Hermione Granger stared dumbfoundedly at them from her position in the corner. A flicker of acknowledgement registered in her eyes after a few moments had passed, and as Draco wrestled with the Death Eater too distracted by the pale man straddling his back and digging into his ribs to try and retrieve his wand, Hermione ran the opposite way, nothing but a flurry of bushy hair as she distanced herself from the mass of tangling limbs.
"Hit him, Granger! Damn it!" Draco cried, the hand curled around his wand lifting up to also tug on a strand of the man's greasy locks, causing him to grunt as he tried to throw Draco off his back. He could practically sense Granger's hesitation, and when he thought that she was never going to bloody respond, he heard her squeak out-
"I might...I might hit you!"
Draco grunted, kicking Dolohov once more in the ribs and securing his grip on the robes of his back.
"I'm willing to take that chance, Granger; you're the best aim here. Just...for fuck's sake...do something."
There were a few more seconds of what he could only suppose was hesitation, and it was only when Draco was nearly certain that all hope of receiving help from her was lost that he heard her utter a spell so forcefully; so angrily that at the moment it hit Dolohov, the man grew rigid against him. He collapsed to the ground, clutching his abdomen and sputtering, his entire body erupting into fierce shivers as he seemed to struggle and gasp for air. Draco fell when Dolohov did, his wand slipping from his hands and landing next to him. Scrambling for it, Draco reached for the instrument quickly and turned to Dolohov, murmuring "Incarcerous" under his breath. Thick, white rope shot from the end of his wand, coiling and slithering around the Death Eater's body like a snake. It wrapped tightly around his stomach, tying his arms to his sides, and when the ropes had finished knotting themselves Dolohov winced, leaning over and sputtering up a dark red substance Draco could only suppose was blood.
"Granger..." Draco panted, dragging the word out slowly. "What did you...?"
"I-I did the first thing I could think of," She managed, her voice wavering slightly and her face growing considerably paler. He couldn't tell if she felt any remorse over what she'd just done or if she was simply in shock. Draco strained to hear her speak, and after a few more seconds of silence passed between them, she finally revealed what she'd cast on him.
"It was the same curse he used on me-back in the Battle of the Department of Mysteries," She managed quietly, her large brown eyes studying the man doubled over in pain before her. Her bottom lip trembled once, and Draco glanced down towards Dolohov. It didn't occur to him that Granger would recognize the man now writhing in pain; it didn't even register in his mind that she shared any sort of history with him. The thought of Granger knowing any Death Eater on a relatively personal level aside from his family was...well, surprising to say the least. He blinked twice, unsure as to what curse she was even talking about, and his lips tugged into a slight frown as he studied the intruder.
"What does it do?" He asked, his mind instantly thinking of the blood that had sputtered from the man's mouth.
"Well, it...it causes internal bleeding," She managed finally, stuttering slightly and teetering from one foot to the other.
"So he's...?"
"He's...dying, yes," She said, her voice strained.
"Granger..." Draco began, his voice cautionary. Harming someone in self-defense was one thing, but this? This wasn't Granger at all, and judging by the way her face had paled considerably and her eyes had grown frantic, she seemed to acknowledge as much, too.
"He'll-we need to get him to Madame Pomfrey!" Hermione breathed, her words coming out jagged and quick as she leaped forward. She hesitated for a moment before reluctantly bending down, murmuring some unknown healing charm that Draco supposed she had either read up on in advanced texts or had bloody invented herself (with Granger, who the hell knew). This seemed to stop him from coughing up blood, but Draco knew as well as she did that in terms of internal bleeding, that meant nothing. He instructed her to back up, telling her to levitate him with her wand as he scoped the area out. Hermione made a jerky nod of her head, tugging on the sleeve of her shirt and flicking her wrist, causing the nearly-unconscious man on the floor to rise slowly from the ground.
The trip to the hospital wing was one full of fear; Draco was anxious that at any moment, some unsuspecting student was going to bound down the hall and find himself and the Gryffindor war heroine carting a bounded Death Eater through the halls of the school. Draco knew that what they were doing was probably stupid; they should have Floo'd St. Mungo's or contacted McGonagall straight away, but his mind had been in a panic and he suspected Granger's was, as well. By the time they finally arrived, Madam Pomfrey looked...startled, at the very least, to see them. After harshly criticizing them for what they'd done, she had agreed to keep him in a secluded area of the hospital wing, drawing a curtain around him after Draco had insured he was tied securely to the bed and promising to give Dolohov the necessary doses of healing potions until a St. Mungo's official can come for him. McGonagall met them halfway, astonished more than anyone else when she'd heard of what had transpired in her office, and after a long series of heartfelt apologies (on Granger's end, of course), the pair of Order members reluctantly departed from the school's hospital wing, heading back towards the tower they were staying in. Granger was quiet during the walk back to their respective rooms, and though Draco knew it was probably around (if not a bit after) dinnertime, he decided not to press the issue. If he was being honest, he wasn't hungry himself; Merlin knows she probably wasn't, either.
All in all, it had been an exhausting as hell day.
By the time they had finished climbing the stairs that led to their respective suites, Draco had thought a lot over about the events of their rather...hectic day, and he realized he couldn't stay silent any longer.
"Granger," He began, his voice quiet. They were halted outside her room, and she turned to face him, exhaustion weary and prominent on her features. "Today...back in McGonagall's office...what do you think happened? How did he get there?"
Hermione gave an exasperated sigh, fiddling with the hem of her shirt and giving a slight shrug.
"My guess is..." She paused, pursing her lips and narrowing her eyes slightly in thought. "I suppose my Owl was intercepted-they seemed to have brewed some sort of faulty Polyjuice Potion and sent Dolohov to collect from us." She paused, giving a sad shake of her head. "Here we thought we were covering our tracks, and it's clear they've been following us all along."
"Do you really think that?"
"It makes sense, doesn't it?" She asked, her voice a bit more forceful than usual. "How else would they keep tabs on us? How would they have known we would be at Hogwarts? How would they have found the letter I'd sent Harry? How would those Snatchers have known what forest to search in for..." She paused, her voice choking off. It was difficult to talk about; he understood that. Suddenly he felt far too weighed down with the pressure of the world resting on their shoulders, and he anxiously shifted his weight from one foot to the other, struggling to form a coherent sort of response to what she'd just insinuated.
"You don't know anything for sure," He replied, partially uncertain as to why he was trying so damn hard to make her feel better. She only nodded jerkily in response, glancing down at the stone floor of the castle and seeming to process something. After two minutes of staring at the ground in such a fashion her head snapped up, and she stared at Draco with a mixture of anger and sadness.
"I almost killed a man today-I might still; he could be dead as we speak," She managed, the words reluctant to fall from her lips. Draco studied her closely, trying to keep his face as vacant as possible as she ushered this sinful confession to him. So...that was the true root of her problems; not so much that they'd been discovered, but what she'd done in response.
"Granger...I don't understand," He began slowly, though he knew damn well he comprehended more than he let on. "You fought through the Second War-you've cursed and hexed and sent a thousand spells in the direction of hundreds of people. Why should this be any different?"
"Because it is!" She gasped in response, her words harsh and cutting through the air like a knife.
"Don't you understand, Malfoy?" She continued, clearly exasperated as her eyes widened, staring at him and imploring him to understand the truth behind her words. "That's the point of the movement; that's the point of fighting discrimination and hatred and ill-founded prejudices-you're supposed to be better than them. You aren't supposed to sink to their level, you're supposed to rise above it, because where they lack humanity you thrive on it. And I failed that today; I failed my own humanity."
Draco's throat suddenly felt far too parched; it was scratchy and aching as he stared at the broken figure of Hermione Granger. No, broken was too harsh of a word; he'd never associated it with her. She was...she was hurting, though, and Draco felt a sharp pain shoot through his chest at the acknowledgment. Much to his dismay, he found himself wanting to reach out and wrap his arms around her for security; to kiss her lips and whisper words of comfort and truth against her mouth. He wanted to comfort her the way a lover might, but he couldn't. Instead, he flexed his hands at his sides, taking a hesitant step closer to her and staring at her intently until she lifted her eyes and met his gaze.
"What happened today wasn't your fault, Granger," He began, his voice an urgent whisper. Her face mirrored the doubt he knew she felt, and he shook his head once, trying to illustrate that he wasn't finished speaking yet. "You...feel more strongly than anyone I've ever met. Your emotions are the most fearsome thing I've ever beheld; it's astounding and profound and...everything I wish I had but don't. Don't you understand, Granger? You aren't the enemy here, it's them; if Dolohov had bested you, he wouldn't have felt a lick of remorse. It's not in the nature of a Death Eater-to truly rise above in the ranks of dark magic, you must separate yourself from humanity. You must shut down compassion and empathy and guilt; you feed on hatred and nothing but. It's a lonely, pathetic sort of existence-the kind that eats you from the inside out until you're nothing but a shell of a human being. Some people crumble under the pressure, and others rise. Don't you get it? You are better than them-you feel everything so intensely where they lack the ability to. Compassion, guilt, remorse, anger, vengeance, affection...love...you feel it with everything in you, and that's how you're different. No one can take that from you, Granger, and that's what matters most."
He exhaled in a rush, the speech just as shocking to him as it must have been to her. He wasn't used to...expressing such things to anyone, not even himself. It made him feel vulnerable and exposed, as though his interior thoughts were on display for the entire world. Granger's face had contorted itself throughout his speech; she was staring at him with the most confused, heart-broken look on her face, and in that moment Draco wished he could wipe all the hurt from her body and absorb it as his own. It was a sick thought, given how much he was supposed to hate her, but it didn't make it any less true.
"Malfoy..." She began finally, his name falling from her lips in a slow rush, his voice barely rising above a whisper. "You can't...you can't say those things to me. Not when you belong to...it just...never mind. It doesn't matter. Thank you, I need to...I need to go to bed. Goodnight." She turned around quickly, swiping at her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt. She fumbled for her wand, raising it and letting herself into her suite. Draco's heart was pounding violently in her absence, and the loss of her was enough to nearly drag him to his knees. He stared at her door in silence for a few moments, and when he thought the temptation was suffocating and strangling him, he surged forward, forcing her door open and stepping inside. The room was dark, and he could barely make out the silhouette of her figure near the bed. She turned to face him quickly, and Draco stepped forward, wiping his clammy hands against his trousers and addressing her.
"No one gets to tell me who I belong to, Granger," He said quickly, reaching for her face in the dark. His hands managed to cup her face, and he heard a broken cry tumble past her lips as their faces crushed together. They were nothing but a writhing mess of limbs, his hands sliding down to reach for her shirt in the dark, and she did the same. His mouth worked against hers sloppily, his tongue parting her lips and delving into the wet heat of her mouth as their hands explored the other's body. There was a fierce shredding of clothing-more than once Draco heard a tear or snap as the fabric of their clothes got caught in frantic hands and were yanked and pulled from each other's figures. He was a mess of need and lust, his desire for her blooming in his abdomen and spreading through him like a fire. It licked and nipped at every fiber of his being, tearing through him and dominating his senses. He was lost in the extravagant mess that was Hermione Granger, and he knew damn well he'd never be able to claw his way out.
Not anymore. He was in too far deep for that.
By the time the last of their clothing had been shredded, Draco was frantic as he pushed her down onto the bed, their harsh and labored breathing the only noise that filled the room. It seemed amplified, almost, and Draco decided it was his heightened senses as he crawled on top of the bare, writhing Witch beneath him. She gave a mewl of pleasure, arching her back and thrusting her breasts against his chest as he settled against her intimately. A fierce shudder tore through his spine as her nipples brushed against his chest, pebbling against the lean and toned form of his torso. He dipped his head, crushing their lips together and kissing her fiercely once again as his hips ground against her own. His cock was growing harder by the minute, causing a dull and aching throb to pound through his length as his erection pressed against the dripping lips of her pussy. Hermione gave a low, throaty moan in response, dragging her hands around Draco's back and raking her nails down his back. He could feel her fingers leaving grooves and scratches in the soft, pale skin of his figure, and he gave a low grunt of approval as she canted her hips against him and silently begged for more.
It was always more, more, more with them. There was no satiating their lust; no feeding the hunger of their desire and no calming the tumultuous waves of the want and attraction they felt for one another. They were all heat and energy just ready to combust, and Draco found that he didn't much give a damn. When it came to Granger, hell, he didn't give much of a damn about anything that wasn't her.
"Malfoy, Malfoy," She murmured frantically, her eyes searching for his in the dark. He broke his lips from hers, panting harshly against her mouth and locking his eyes onto hers. There was a silent sort of conversation that seemed to pass between the two, and Draco gave a stiff nod before bending his head and attacking her neck with a series of hot and open-mouthed kisses. He knew what she wanted; it was the same thing he'd wanted for weeks now. The press of their bodies, the union of their beings...maybe once, in a different time, it would have been nothing but a quick, rough fuck. But it meant more...it had for a while, even if neither one would admit so. Even if Draco wouldn't admit so even to himself.
Draco went about preparing himself, shifting his hips and aligning his hard cock with her core. The blunt tip of his erection pressed against her tight, wet opening, and it was with a groan that he shifted and drove into her. She gave a startling cry of pleasure, her jaw slacking and her eyes widening as she arched off the bed. Draco's fingers gripped the soft fabric of her bed sheet beneath him, and he focused damn near all of his energy on suckling on the sensitive skin of her neck as his hips snapped frantically against her own. His heart was beating painfully in his chest, and he let out a shuddering moan as the sensation of his thick, hard length stretching her tight, wet cunt overwhelmed him. He angled his hips, rotating his pelvis and stuffing his length further inside of her, feeling his cock brush against her at an angle that made Granger cry brokenly in desire.
"Yes, Draco, yes," She managed breathlessly, and the young Wizard derived some sort of intense pleasure from the way she said his first name. His lips sloppily kissed up the length of her neck, dragging across her jaw line until he met her kiss-swollen lips once more. Her mouth was sweet-it tasted of chapstick and was soft as velvet as it skirted across his own. Her nails continued to dig into his back, her hips lifting to meet each one of his brutal thrusts with her own as he fucked her with as much raw heat as he could manage. The arousal that had tugged and bloomed in his abdomen was now a fierce thing to behold; it was pulsating and persistent and dominant as it tore through him, and Draco knew he wasn't going to last much longer.
"G...Granger, yes," He managed, the words coming out like a murmur as he kissed her and snapped his hips more roughly against her own. She answered with pants and moans of her own, kissing him messily in return as he pounded into her. It was with a final twitch of his hips as his fingers tightened in the fabric of the bedspread beneath him that he came, his lips parting in a cry. He was nothing more than a mess of unraveled nerves, and he thrust against her violently as he rode out his rather intense orgasm, mounding his back and slamming himself against her as he reached the climax of his pleasure. She soon followed, crying out his name as she came around his thick, aching length, and he found himself winding his arms around her and holding her tightly against his chest as he unraveled, moving his pelvis against her own and aiding her in riding out her orgasm until neither one were anything more than a flimsy mess of limbs.
Panting, Draco shakily slipped out of her and fell down against the bed next to her. His limbs were quivering in the aftermath of the most intense and passionate bout of sex he'd ever encountered, and with a trembling hand he lifted to wipe a layer of sweat from his forehead. His hands rested against the bed, and for several minutes neither spoke. Draco listened to the sound of their uneven, labored breathing mingling with the fast beating of his heart; it was calming, in a sense. It helped him forget that the world around him existed-there was only him and only her. Their prejudices, their past, their mission, their positions, their responsibilities and obligations and everything else faded away.
There was nothing but Draco and Hermione, and Draco would have gladly kept it that way forever.
So when she looked at him, her eyes soft and hesitant as she searched his grey orbs for some sort of answer and asked "will you stay?", Draco could think of only one thing to say in response.
"Yes."
a/N: I am so sorry about the delay in updating, you guys! School's pretty much dominated my life, but I've finally got it up and I've planned a lot of the next chapters out, so things should be good! I hope you're all doing well! I debated for a while-going back and forth on how to write this chapter, but I think I'm fairly satisfied with how it turned out. Stay awesome, and don't forget to let me know what you think!