Chapter Four
Malfoy's Mark
The slopes were the perfect solution to keep her mind off of Malfoy. She concentrated on how her body swayed with balance, the bitter cold wind, and the crunching snow beneath her boots. She loved the small cafe's, and the pretty foreign language around her. She felt so grown up.
The nights were different. She read a chapter each night out of one of her preferred books, but when she laid her head down, and closed her eyes she was plagued with worries for Malfoy. It couldn't be helped, but she could have helped him. She would have been able to sleep with a clear conscious if it weren't for her pride.
Every night for a week she would wake from nightmares of green light, screams, and Malfoy's pale faced, and open dead eyes. Sweat would stick her clothes to her body, matt her hair, and chill her. She went through most of the hot cocoa they brought with them on those nights. It would warm her, and put her nightmares at bay, if only for a little while.
Hermione's parents knew nothing of this. As far as they were concerned, Malfoy, and herself just grew apart. It wasn't that she wasn't close to her parents, because she was, but they were dentists, and knew little of the world Hermione entered. She didn't want them to worry about things like deatheaters, and whether or not she was safe at school. If she had told of any of the incidents in her years at Hogwarts they would have pulled her out straight away. All that mattered was that she was safe, right? She saw no reason to tell them.
It was hard leaving France, and boarding the train back to school. It was going to be harder than it was in another country. She would have to face Malfoy, and know that she as good as handed him to the very people that could be the death of him. She wanted so much to blame him, but it couldn't be done in her logical mind. She knew she was to blame for this. She didn't forgive him, it wasn't that, but he was still Draco to her in some sense. Still that boy in the sandbox, and the only boy she would share her secrets with. She was a horrible person.
She didn't want to see him, didn't want to feel that guilt that was going to boil over, and hurt her. She didn't see him once on the platform, or the ride to Hogwarts. Worry gnawed at her insides. What if they hurt him? Killed him? Would she find out? She wished she could have joined the conversation (whatever it was) with Nevielle, and Luna, but it was all she could do to keep herself in her seat. A Gryffindor couldn't get up searching for a Slytherin, she would be hexed.
"Hermione
did the nargles get you?"
She shook out of her thoughts.
"No, Luna," she said tiredly. The airy girl was a good
friend, but it was tiring, her beliefs of things that did not exist
especially when her own mind was elsewhere.
"You know the symptoms -"
"Luna, I'm sorry, but I'm fine. Really."
Nevielle looked a bit scared, and scooted away from her. Luna was not phased in the slightest.
Hermione had to get herself together before she left the train. Luna, and Nevielle might be okay with not hearing why she was so upset, but Harry, and Ron would nag her about it until she gave in.
As she exited her compartment she kept her eyes out for Malfoy against all rational, and emotional feelings. If she saw him she would feel the guilt, and the regrets that came with it, but she had to know if he was okay. What if he wasn't? It was too horrible of a thought.
After every holiday that Hermione returned to school felt like she was coming home. It was the relieved feeling of normalcy, but she didn't have it this time. All she wanted to do was look for Malfoy. She told herself that there was no need. Soon enough, Malfoy would find her. She knew he would.
Harry, and Ron greeted her in the common room. When she mentioned the fact that Ron didn't write once during Christmas, he excused himself out of the portrait hole. Hermione, and Harry just shook their heads, and smiled. Ron would never change, and why would she want him to?
They were soon back to their schedules signaling that Christmas was truly over. Hermione's book bag was filled with its usual books, parchment, and quills. She heaved it over her shoulder one morning of their first day of classes. She double checked her schedule, and made her way through the crowded hallway to Charms.
She saw Harry, and Ron waiting outside talking between themselves. She barely made it to the doorway when her arm was jerked in the opposite direction. Hermione hardly let out a breath much less screamed when she was pulled into a dark, unused classroom. She didn't have to ask who it was.
"Malfoy! What do you think you're doing?"
His voice was harsh, and sounded as though he swallowed nails. "It's your fault!"
"What?"
The brackets on the walls suddenly lit up with fire. It casted flickering shadows over them. Malfoy shoved his wand into the pocket of his robe, and Hermione had never seen him look angry. He had been upset before she left for France, but now he was angry, his light gray eyes piercing. She was so entranced by them that she almost didn't notice that he was slowly pulling up his right sleeve.
Hermione tore her eyes away from him, and looked down at his extended forearm. What she saw sickened her to the core. A skull with a snake slithering through the gaping mouth was branded on his pale skin. Her head spun. It happened. It was her fault.
"I - I'm sorry..." She choked on her tears, "I'm so sorry..." She closed her eyes, but it didn't shut out the image of the dark mark. A deatheaters promise.
Malfoy stared at her as she cried. She reached for the closest desk, and slid in the seat, her book bag falling with a loud thud that echoed in the small room. He didn't move, but watched as if it was the most interesting thing he ever saw, almost like someone studying their prey. All Hermione could do was cry.
"You should be, Granger," he drawled softly.
She nodded. There was no use denying it. "Mal -"
The door slammed. He was gone. She pulled her knees to her chest. Once she calmed herself she wiped her tears on the back of her sleeve, and picked up her book bag. She had a clean record with her teachers, and Professor Flitwick wouldn't mind in the bit if she was a tad late. After all, she had the best marks in her year, no teacher was about to give her detention for a minor infraction.
Harry, and Ron knew something was wrong the moment she walked into class. She was glad that they were too busy charming each other to laugh to ask her any questions. For the first time in her life she wished she didn't attend her class that day. She was on autopilot during the entire class, and it was a testament to her skills as a witch, because not once did she make a mistake.
The rest of the day went by in a daze, and when her classes were done Hermione ambled up to her dormitory in order to avoid any probing questions her friends would have for her. She fell into her bed unable to recall any moment from when Malfoy left her in that classroom. She was crying, and he just left her, she couldn't get it out of her mind. The thing that frustrated her most was that she couldn't be mad at him, for anything. Not for destroying their friendship, for tormenting her all those years, every incident they had did not compare to when he pulled up his sleeve.
Before she surrendered to her tired body she promised herself that she would do anything for him. She would find him a way out of the situation he was born into if it was the last thing she did.