Author's Note: Firstly, I hope all of my readers had a lovely Christmas, or whichever holiday you choose to observe! I also hope you have a wonderful new year. My third, and final, hope is that you enjoy these two lovely new chapters - yes two chapters ! I decided a little yuletide treat wouldn't go amiss, so here are the next two installments of "If". Thank you for all of those who read and reviewed my last chapter - it is, as always, greatly appreciated!
"And yet don't look too good, or talk to wise"
Wednesday 25th February, 1998
Draco had never once considered that his budding friendship with Granger would change the way her closest friends thought about her. He had continued happily enough, secretly revelling in the idea that he knew someone who he could learn to trust. He was so intrigued in their research, so swept away by his now busy days, that he completely missed how isolated and withdrawn Granger was becoming. It finally occurred to him one evening after dinner, when they were sitting in the library. Draco had his head buried in a book, but he noticed that Granger was not reading. She sat on the window ledge, looking out into the night; there was a storm raging, and rain lashed against the pane.
"Are you alright?" He asked. She turned her head to look at him; her face shielded by her bushy hair, and gave him a weak smile.
"Quite. Thank you." They lapsed into silence once more – a silence which was sporadically broken by Granger's sighs. Draco looked at her again, and watched her closely as her eyes remained fixed on the window.
"What are you watching for?"
"How do you know I'm watching for something?" Her voice sounded distant, disinterested.
"It's a look I've seen hundreds of times. I'm sure I often look that way myself. So do tell me what it is you're watching for."
Her head whipped round and her eyes flashed with something that Draco couldn't quite place. It seemed like anger, disappointment, regret…and it was all focused on him. He closed his book and folded his arms, leaning back against the chair languidly.
"Why is it any of your concern?" She snapped, narrowing her eyes. "I am perfectly allowed to watch for whomever I like." Draco tilted his head cockily, a smirk spreading across his face.
"It's your friends, isn't it? Well, I say friends…Scar-Head and Weasel King are hardly the best friends in the world – they just upped and left you, after all." Granger made a sound of disbelief and stood up, folding her arms across her chest.
"Why are you being so facetious?" She demanded angrily. "You're acting like the arrogant prat you were at school!"
"Yes, simply because you acted that way first." The harsh expression on her face dropped a little.
"I'm sorry." She sighed again before returning to her seat. After a moment, she spoke again. "But you must understand how it feels. They're my closest friends, and I have no idea where they are. You must know how I am feeling."
"Must I? Why?"
"Well, you always seemed good friends with Crabbe and Goyle. Wouldn't you worry about them? Be scared for them?" Draco laughed bitterly.
"Not at all. I really couldn't care about the safety of either of those great dolts. They were never my friends; in fact…I have always expected that my father ordered them to be my 'friends'." Hermione let out a gasp of disbelief.
"Why? They always seemed to like you enough, defend you, do whatever you said…"
"Yes, that is true. But they also sent a bi-monthly report to my father about everything from what colour jumper I wore to what I ate for my breakfast."
Hermione sat down, but this time she took her usual place on the sofa; she stretched her jean-clad legs out and rested her head on the arm.
"You must hate your father." It was a simple statement; not meant to be hurtful or painful, but it felt like she had thrust him with a dagger. In all of the time he had spent with her, he had never really thought about his father; in her presence, he managed to switch it off – the fear, the anxiety, and the hatred…it faded away. Sensing his discomfort she turned to look at him, propping her head up on her hand; she looked interested, but cautious at the same time. Draco let out a rattling sigh, before fixing his eyes on her and slowly nodding.
"I hate him more than you would ever be able to comprehend. He has destroyed everything, without even a flickering of regret. My mother is a broken woman, most of his former friends are dead, and I was forced to do something against my will."
"He made you join the Death Eaters…"
"No." Granger's dark eyes met with his, and they were filled with disgusted surprise. "My father did encourage me, of course, but the choice was mine. In fact, to begin with I was eager to give my life away to the Dark Lord." Draco felt something stir within him, when Granger's face blushed red.
"Why? Was it the power, the promise of a thrill?" Draco was reluctant to answer her question. He picked up his book once more, and attempted to bury himself in it. However, he felt the touch of her small hand on his arm. "Do tell me why." He looked up at her, his face impassive but honest.
"Those were simply added bonuses for me. My decision to join the Death Eaters was fuelled by my opinions – I hated muggles and muggle-borns, and I wanted the magical world rid of them."
"And your hatred is still the same. Your opinions have not changed – it is clear on your face."
"No, they have not changed."
They sat in silence for five minutes or so. Draco pretended to get back to his book, but his eyes were simply fixed on one spot – his heart was no longer in it. Granger had led back on the sofa once more, her eyes focusing on the ceiling. He wondered what she was thinking, what was going on it that busy head of hers; she was always thinking about something, he knew. Suddenly she spoke, but her eyes still remained on the ceiling.
"And do you hate me?" Draco swallowed; he could either tell the truth, or fabricate a lie. A lie would be easier to tell; it would be less embarrassing, and no doubt give him less discomfort. A lie would probably be better for her too; admitting any connection to her would put her in extra danger – could he do that? She sat up and moved closer to him; her open, pretty face tilted towards him. Whispering, she repeated her question. "Malfoy…do you hate me?" Swallowing again, he shook his head.
"No. I have come to learn that…I do not hate you." Granger smiled in quiet victory. She reached forward and placed her hand on his.
"Good." Vaguely, somewhere in the back of his mind, Draco acknowledged that everything had changed.
Saturday 28th February, 1998
Draco watched through the window, feigning disinterest, as Granger received a letter from an owl in the yard. The beautiful owl sat on her arm, looking almost haughty, as it fed from the palm of her hand. She clutched the rolled up letter in her other hand, and Draco found himself growing curious as to its contents. She smiled as the owl flew from her arm, as she turned to re-enter the house. Draco watched carefully as she sat opposite him, and unrolled the scroll. It took her about two minutes to read the letter, and then she read it again as her face became increasingly red. Mrs Weasley, clearing her throat, scuttled from the room leaving the pair alone. Granger looked up at Draco, blinking, before she pointed her wand at the letter and set it on fire.
"What was it?" Draco asked, trying hard to keep his voice from sounding too interested. "A letter from Potter and Weasley?"
"Yes! And I cannot believe their audacity. To write me such a short, distant note when I had sent them three pages of parchment! I am supposed to be their friend and yet…and oh how can they tell me what to do when they aren't even here?"
Draco was surprised she didn't stamp her foot. She was throwing a complete tantrum; thumping her fists angrily on the table, glowering at the pile of ash, and tossing her hair back. Draco thought she looked almost majestic in her anger – like a spoilt queen who determined to have her own way.
"Will you write back to them?" He asked nonchalantly. "If I were you, I would never write to them again."
"I shan't!" She declared angrily. "They told me to stay away from you, you know! Harry said you were slimy, befriending me to wheedle out information! And Ron! Ron's comment was beyond absurd! He said you were too good looking to be spending so much time with me! Why, if they were to come here now I would kill him!" Draco found their letter amusing, as opposed to Granger's finding it offensive. Potter was clearly feeling insecure; Draco suspected his attempts at finding Horcruxes were probably going awry, and that Potter was looking for someone to blame. As for Weasley…well, he was clearly jealous. Draco smirked, seeing an opportunity to jibe at Weasley.
"It is natural for Weasley to feel threatened and jealous, of course. If I were him, I would not like my girlfriend spending so much time with someone as handsome as myself." Granger tossed her head back and laughed.
"Your vanity is astounding, Malfoy. Ron has no need to be jealous or threatened, for he knows perfectly well how I feel about him." Draco's face fell – his taunt had not been successful. With a somewhat smug smile on her face, Granger stood up and walked towards the door.
"So you are going out with Weasley then? I thought – " Hermione laughed again, before leaving him alone in the kitchen. Draco, with an unfamiliar feeling stirring in his stomach, stared at the pile of ashes on the table. He had clearly missed something, but he couldn't exactly place what it was.
