Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter is not mine.
1997 – February 28
Malfoy had been going to Hogwarts during the day and Hermione was glad. It meant the she had some time to herself. When he had been at the cabin, he either completely ignored her, are shot cold glares her direction whenever he was in the same room. She much preferred just to go back to her bedroom with the book or two she had selected during the day and not have to worry about the unfriendly encounters with Malfoy when he returned.
She was surprised that he actually came back to the cabin most nights and wondered why. Surely it would be less suspicious and easier for him if he stayed at Hogwarts instead of sneaking off the grounds each evening. It didn't make much sense that he would risk people suspecting him of murder to come back to a place where the only person there was someone whom he hated. Didn't his friends notice he was missing? There were a couple nights that he hadn't come back, so who really knew what was going on. Hermione couldn't help but feel that there had to be a reason why he was there, alone, with her rather than at school with his friends. If only she could figure out what.
Malfoy made her a nice dinner each night, which she was both surprised at, and thankful for. Sure, she could make her own dinner like she made her own breakfast and lunch when he wasn't around, but that would involve the awkwardness of being in the same room with him for an extended period of time and Hermione would much rather avoid that.
He never really spoke to her when dropping off a plate of food and, over time, Hermione was finding that she was actually missing at least some form of human communication. After a couple of days, she started to ask about what was happening at the school, how her friends were. She hated to think about how they might be hurting right now. Her mind kept flooding with thoughts of the pain she was putting her friends through, the guilt that the professors must feel. What if her "death" had caused a panic among the students? Hermione loathed the thought that she could have made other students fear for their own lives when nothing had really happened to her in the first place. She wanted, no, she needed to know what was occurring at Hogwarts, what damage this situation had caused to the atmosphere of the school.
Maybe she was getting ahead of herself, maybe she was thinking far too much and expecting the worst. Perhaps everything was just as it normally was and she was worrying over nothing. She was never able to know for certain, because Malfoy refused to reply to any of her inquires with more than a couple sentences. It was driving her absolutely mad!
It was possibly because of her own isolation and loneliness, but Hermione began to notice things about Malfoy in the few moments that he was in her presence each day. Through the cold, sneering responses, there was a sadness that he couldn't quite cover up, and when he looked at her, she swore she could see a hint of, almost longing in his stormy grey eyes, along with something else that she couldn't quite name. It made her think of what he must be going through because of everything he had done, everything he had saved her from. He had spared her and it had obviously done some damage to his own life. Was that the reason he spent most evenings at the cabin? Had his social life been hindered because of his choice not to follow through on his orders to kill her? Was the sadness she observed due to loneliness? She could definitely relate to that terrible feeling. Being alone was something that nobody should have to suffer.
She could be completely wrong about his reasons for being at the cabin, but one thing that she was certain about was that he wasn't some horrible monster like Harry made him out to be, that he was struggling just like anyone else, even more so it seemed.
Maybe it was a terrible idea. Maybe it was an experiment. Maybe her own curiosity was getting the best of her. Maybe she was reading Malfoy all wrong and was completely insane for seeing the good in the person who had kidnapped her. Maybe her need for some sort of human contact was clouding her judgement. But Hermione couldn't shake the desire to spend at least a little time with him, outside the safety of the room he had given her. She knew there was something going on, something deeper, something that he wanted to hide, and for whatever reason, Hermione wanted to at least try to figure it out. It might be totally mad, but perhaps, even some awkward silence in the presence of another person would do them both some good.
Hermione had heard Malfoy return a couple of hours before and sat on her bed in deliberation. Dropping the book she was reading onto the bed beside her, she took a deep, calming breath, and nodded her head in determination. She was going to do this whether it was a good idea or not. Surely things couldn't get any worse between the two of them then they already were.
It was almost comedic the way her nerves flared when she stood up and headed for the door. After everything she had faced with Harry and Ron, after learning that she had been targeted by Voldemort himself, simply eating dinner with Draco Malfoy was something that frightened her, or at least made her unbearably nervous. No, she couldn't back down now. This was something that she was going to do. This was something that she needed to do; in order to keep her own sanity, in order to quell her own curiosity. With one more deep breath, she took the plunge into uncharted territory; having a meal with Draco Malfoy.
Draco had spent the last week avoiding Hermione. It wasn't like she wanted to see him anyway, she shut herself away in her room as soon as he returned. Granted, he wasn't being exactly pleasant to her when he did see her… but it was all part of the plan.
He knew he shouldn't be coming back at all but school was unbearable. The rumours had spread and while some people glared, whispered, shouted, hexed, or avoided him, his fellow Slytherins wore signs of pride and relief that Hermione was gone. They held full conversations covering the nostalgia of how horrible Hermione was and how great a feat it was that she was finally dead. It was sickening and he couldn't stand it longer than he absolutely had to. The worst thing was that he had to play the part. He had to join in on the laughing and name calling. He knew he was supposed to be showing Hermione how much he still hated her, but he wasn't sure how much longer he could take this. He saw how lonely she was, how much this isolation was hurting her, and he just kept bringing it.
Every time her eyes met his, he felt a twinge in his heart. Draco worked so hard to keep his cold expression while his emotions seemed to be running wild. How could he have let things come so far? How could he let himself care so much to begin with? It was getting harder and harder to be around Hermione and not crack his hard exterior. If he just stayed at Hogwarts, he at least wouldn't have to worry about her discovering anything. He wasn't quite sure he trusted himself to continue to treat her this way for more than a minute or so.
One thing was for certain though. He couldn't stay at the school. He tried, he really did. Once he realized how much more difficult this was all getting, Draco stayed for a couple nights. Those were the worst nights he had had in a very long time. He was constantly having to be around his Slytherin group, paranoid of what people might do who suspected him, and was continuously on guard for anything Hermione's friends might try to pull on him. Just having to be around the Slytherins all evening was like torture. He couldn't do it. Draco came back to the cabin just to face the problem again that he had been running from.
Draco was shocked when he heard the door to Hermione's room creak open and her light footsteps make their way down the hall. He was just finishing up making them dinner when she sat down at the table. He couldn't believe the feelings that immediately began to run through him; fear, relief, a strange warmth growing from his core, and fear, fear, fear. His heart began thudding faster and faster. Why was she there? Why did she sit at the table? Was she going to eat dinner with him? And just as fast, he felt the will to be a horrible human being to her, fading away. He knew he had to find it again, but it was just, gone. He couldn't keep up the role he was playing tonight. Not when he felt so damn good that she was even in the same room with him, not when he might actually vomit at the thought of doing anything more to hurt her. He absolutely hated being forced to show her the villainous side of himself he had been taught to develop.
Draco dished up the food onto two plates, picked them up and took a deep breath, desperately trying to stop the nervous shaking of his hands. When he had steadied himself the best he could, he turned around, wordlessly setting one plate in front of her and one at his own place setting.
They ate in silence with Hermione staring at her plate, not daring to make eye contact. That was what made it a bit awkward. It was clear that she was very uncomfortable being around him. He couldn't understand why she was even trying. Why was she sitting there with him? He was so confused by the action, but it also alighted something inside of him. He realized he desperately wanted to talk with her, like a normal human being instead of like the bully he pretended to be. He knew it was wrong, and he knew it would ruin everything he had worked so hard to do; it would show that he didn't really hate her as much as he portrayed. But something small inside of him was saying, to hell with it all. And that small something was quickly growing into something large.
But Hermione was completely silent and Draco didn't want to seem too eager for conversation either so he stayed quiet also, leaving only the sounds of forks and knives scraping across plates, and light chewing.
Suddenly, Hermione put down her cutlery and cleared her throat. "I don't think I ever thanked you," she told him as if she had been planning the conversation for the entire meal. She didn't look up as she spoke. "You didn't have to spare me. It probably would have been much easier on you if you had followed through with your mission. I just thought you should know that I appreciate your sacrifice."
Her words felt like a dagger being thrust into his chest. Sacrifice? Is that what she truly thought of him? That the decision not to kill her was so difficult? Sure this whole situation was messed up, terrifying, and a social disaster but he wouldn't change what he did. He would change having feelings for her in the first place because that was what lead to Hermione being in this much danger, but sparing her? That had been the easiest choice in the world. It would have done so much more damage to his already broken soul if he had killed her. And Hermione thanking him for all this sacrifice was disgusting.
"What did you say?" she asked. He looked at her and found her staring back at him, her eyes questioning. Draco couldn't even find it in himself to pull out the glare he knew he should be showing her, just looked back at her, admiring the beautiful gaze she had been denying him of these past days.
"Did I say something?" he questioned back, knowing full well that sound had escaped his lips. Damn it! What is wrong with me lately? It's like I can't keep a single thought to myself!
"Well, it was more mumbled than said," she replied, returning her eyes to her now empty plate.
Draco wished she wouldn't look away so much. No, her turning away is a good thing, making it easier on you. He didn't believe anything he was telling himself. What did any of this even matter anymore? Wasn't he really only protecting himself by treating her the way he was? If somehow she was captured, she would be killed anyway. It didn't matter if she found out about his feelings or not. You'll probably be killed anyway as well. That was certainly a sobering thought.
Draco closed his eyes and just said part of the truth she needed to hear. "It wasn't that difficult." When he opened his eyes again, her gaze had returned to him, full of confusion.
"But you hate me," she said.
Draco just shook his head. This time it was his turn to turn his gaze towards the table. He wasn't going to give her any more than that. He just didn't want her to feel so alone, like he knew she did.
"I don't understand." Draco could hear the confusion in her voice as she spoke.
He had definitely let her see too much now. But for some reason, this didn't terrify him as it should. Draco knew that he would probably be in more danger if she discovered his true motivation behind sparing her, at least emotionally, but at the moment, he didn't care. Even if he was going to be killed anyway, he still didn't want her to find out everything. He didn't think he could handle the rejection that he was sure would follow.
He loathed that she thought he still hated her. Sure for their first few years of school there was a very strong dislike, but that soon faded away. Now, it was all an act; an act that he was tired of playing.
"But in school, you've been horrible to me and my friends. I am everything your prejudices say shouldn't even be allowed at Hogwarts," she pressed.
The prejudices. The part of his upbringing that he wished he could have been smart enough to reject. One of the most shameful things about being a part of the social circle he was. Hermione couldn't see that he had moved past those thoughts, that he no longer believed she was anything but amazing. He hadn't let her see any of the progress he had made over the years. He hadn't allowed her to know what he truly thought of her.
"And now, you won't even speak to me. You refuse to let me know what is going on at school. You glare and sneer and make me feel small and unwanted. You say you don't hate me, but what am I supposed to think?"
She was supposed to think that he hated her. That was the plan. That was what had happened. That was what was currently falling apart. And Draco never wanted anything more than for that thinking, those feelings she had, to be destroyed.
"Do you hate me?" he asked hesitantly, still not meeting her gaze.
She seemed to consider that for a moment before answering.
"No," Hermione finally responded. "I don't hate you."
Draco lifted his eyes to hers.
She doesn't hate me.
She doesn't hate me.
She doesn't hate me.
The words came somewhat of a shock, but he felt his heart begin to melt. After everything he had done, after everything he had put her through, she didn't hate him. Draco knew he was stepping into dangerous territory, that this whole meal had been a horrible turn of events when it came to the strict plan of not letting her see his feelings. But even though he knew how much worse the situation was becoming, Draco couldn't help the emotions welling up inside of him. He felt better than he had in a very long while.
"Things are more complicated then they appear," he told her, hoping he wouldn't regret all this tomorrow. "I don't hate you either."
It was small, but Draco swore he saw the edges of her mouth rise, just slightly, into an almost unnoticeable smile.
That was the moment his left forearm began burning as if acid had been poured down his sleeve, then set alight with flame. It was nothing compared to when he was first marked, but every time the Death Eaters were called, it was still agony. He clutched at his arm and tried his hardest not to cry out, ending up making strangled grunting noises through clenched teeth.
"Malfoy, what's wrong?" Hermione sounded scared.
He had to be called this night, the night when he was finally having even a few civil words with Hermione. Draco remembered Snape's warning not to go to the Dark Lord's side, to just wait out the pain. He couldn't let her see him like this! He didn't want to confirm all of her worst fears about him. Draco was a Death Eater, and there wasn't anything he could do to change that. He pushed away from the table and began heading away from her to lock himself in his bedroom. To his surprise, Hermione stood up and started to follow him.
"Malfoy, what is it?!" she asked again.
Her eyes drifted down to where he was holding his left arm and Draco saw the moment that realization of what was really going on struck her. Her eyes widened and she stopped moving.
"Yes, Granger, be afraid," he spat through the pain. "I am an evil Death Eater just like Potter says I am." With that, he ripped open his sleeve to reveal the dark mark, writhing like a snake on his forearm. Hermione took a step backwards. The look of fear in her eyes hurt almost worse than the burning of his mark. Hermione was afraid of him, of who he was linked to, of who he was, of what he could do to her. He couldn't blame her. He was a horrible person, a monster, evil.
"Yes, that's it. Run away from the scary Death Eater!" Draco rushed into his room without another glance back.
Author's Note:
I hope the chapter wasn't too scattered. There is a lot of conflicting thoughts and emotions, and insecurities from both characters. I feel like their thoughts would be a bit scattered right now, especially Draco.
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A huge thanks to negativecreep91 and bennettfan84 for your thoughts on chapter 6, it really means so much to me.
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