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Chapter Eight

The Truth

Hermione asked her two friends to meet her on the fourth tallest tower in Hogwarts. Malfoy's tower as she thought of it, the place he always went when he was upset. If she closed her eyes, she could almost feel his presence, though it was probably just her mind making her feel better.

Dark clouds rolled over the sky blocking the stars, and moon from view. It was sad, fitting her emotions perfectly. She was glad it was dark, it would make talking to Harry, and Ron easier, not that it was ever hard. In fact talking with them had always felt good, but this time it was different. They loathed Malfoy, and knew little of the friendship they used to share.

A breeze blew past her, and she sighed. She checked her wristwatch. It was almost one in the morning. They should be there soon, and just as she thought of it, the door behind her opened.

"Hermione," Ron asked.

The door closed, and they walked beside her, Harry looking intently into her face. "Why did you want to talk here? Why not the common room, or the Room of Requirement?"
Hermione smirked. "Did you know that this was the place Malfoy went whenever he was upset?"

Ron scoffed, "how do you know that?"

"We used to be friends."

"What?!" Harry jaw fell.

"We met when we were four at the playground near my house. We met every Friday, and then we turned eleven, and came here, to Hogwarts... We became rivals our second year when he called me mudblood."

Ron narrowed his eyes at her. "Why are you telling us this now? After all these years!"

Hermione inhaled a shaky breath. "I knew you hated him. I began to hate him too. I never forgave him until a month ago..."

Harry gripped the wall, his knuckles becoming white. "What happened a month ago," he asked, his voice dangerously low.

"It started several months ago, to be honest. He came up to me asking for help. He was forced to become a deatheater, and I refused his help."

"Good girl," Ron muttered.

"No," she said, her voice breaking. "It was terrible of me! He's a deatheater, that's why he left school, not because he was being home schooled. It was my fault. I came up here to tell him I'm sorry, and he told me to stay away, because if Voldemort ever found out..." She closed her eyes. The incredulous looks Harry, and Ron were giving her were not fading. They were hurt, and she was hurting as well. "We forgave each other, and we've been writing..."

They were quiet for a moment, and then Harry spoke. "Where's this going, Hermione?"

She looked straight at him. He deserved to see the truth as well as hear it. "Voldemort is coming here tomorrow. The first battle is at dawn."

"We've got to tell Dumbledore," Ron said to Harry, and he nodded, and Ron turned to her.

"I can't believe you didn't tell us any of this."

"I just found out -"
"I meant about Malfoy!" Ron's ears turned a bright shade of red.

"Would it have mattered?"
Neither of her friends answered. They ran out of the tower, leaving her behind. She sat in the exact spot where Malfoy had comforted her not so long ago.

Where was he? Was he safe? Was he worried? Asleep? Or was he up like she was now, thinking of her, sitting, and hoping that tomorrow didn't bring them together.

In her gut, she knew that they would have to face each other. She still knew that he would have to be the one to draw his wand. She knew he wouldn't, so the only question that remained was what would happen when he didn't? Would someone else kill them both? Whose side would their murderer be on?

Hermione heaved two more logs into the common room fire to keep it going. It was nearing three in the morning, and she stayed awake on the couch waiting for Harry, and Ron to return from the headmasters office. She didn't expect them to come back too soon, there was a lot of details to go over in such little time.

She held a book in front of her face. She wasn't reading it, merely holding it for something to do. She didn't quite feel like going up to her dormitory to get her knitting supplies. She might miss Harry, and Ron coming in.

The portrait open revealing her two friends climbing in. Beneath the freckles Ron looked pale, and tired. Harry's black hair was messier than usual, his eyes not fully opened.

"What did Professor Dumbledore say," Hermione asked sitting her book beside her.

Ron glared at her, "he's talking to the other professors now."

Her blood boiled at the look he gave her. "You know, Ron, this isn't my fault. I didn't ask for this war. I didn't make this happen."

"But you were friends with Malfoy for years without telling us."

"For goodness sakes I didn't know you two when we were friends."

Harry ran his hand through his hair sticking it up even more. She suspected he had been doing that all night. "You were friends with Malfoy, our nemesis -"

"The evil that is causing this -"

"And it doesn't matter," Harry said, Ron glimpsed at him shocked. "Really, it doesn't bloody well matter anymore. What we have to focus on is this war. We have to sleep."

"I'm sor -"

"Don't apologize, Hermione," he yawned. "If it wasn't for Malfoy, we wouldn't know about this war, we would be taken off guard, and we would have all died."

Ron huffed angrily, but Hermione knew it was only because he didn't have a proper argument. He knew that they were right, and it was the best apology she could hope for from him.

Hermione stood, and pulled Harry into a hug. "I'm going to fight this with you. All the way."

He nodded wordlessly ambling up to his dormitory. At any other time he would have argued with her, but he was tired, possibly not even fully awake.

Ron shifted his feet in front of her. She stepped towards him, and he rushed towards her making her stop as he hugged her, letting her go just as quickly. She wasn't even sure if that had happened.

"What was that for," she asked, a deep blush creeping over her. One moment he was yelling, upset, and now he was… Sweet?

"It might be the last time..."

She shook her head tears brimming her eyes. "Don't talk that way."

He took the couple of steps that had separated them again, and brushed his hand over her cheek. "I don't want to be mad at you… I can't be… Not now…" He bent, and gave her a short chaste kiss on her lips. She thought her heart might jump out of her chest. "Night, Hermione," he mumbled.

She watched as he walked slowly up to his dormitory. "Night, Ron."