Chapter Nine
Well I'd better make up for that nasty cliff-hanger! Tenfold. This is honestly the longest Fanfic chapter I've ever written! I just couldn't split it into two, it didn't sound right. Lots of drama and angst ahead. And time for some progress I think. As always JKR is the creator!
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"Harry!"
Hermione stared at her friend in dismay as he took a step closer, moving out fully from the shadows. His expression was twisted in a glare of accusation and even in the dim lighting of the hallway she could see the twitching muscle in his jaw that signalled the rise of his infamous temper. Her trepidation increased. Hermione twisted her hands together and tried to widen her eyes in innocent surprise, despite knowing how suspicious she must look emerging from Draco's room in the pinkish pre-dawn glow, her hair tousled and wild from sleep and still wearing her pyjamas.
"What are you doing up so early?" she asked, her voice shaking with nerves. She saw Harry's hands clench into fists as his eyes pierced her, making her want to shrink back and through the door behind her as though she were invisible. He skulked towards her slowly, looking her up and down.
"What am I doing up?" he spat, his voice a hoarse whisper of outrage, "How about what the hell are you doing? Why were you in Malfoy's room?"
Hermione shrugged, aiming for a casual look.
"I was just checking on him. I thought I heard a noise."
Harry didn't even blink at her explanation. He loomed closer to her again.
"Don't lie to me, Hermione! I saw you sneaking into his room hours ago," her heart plummeted at this revelation and she felt her cheeks go stark white as the blood drained from her face. Harry continued in a low, dangerous tone, "At first I thought there was some harmless explanation. But I kept checking your room every hour and you never returned. You were with him all night."
Hermione pursed her lips. She was torn between feeling fearful about what Harry had discovered, as well as incensed that he had clearly been spying on her. It seemed he had not dropped the habit at all since their school days.
"It's not what it looks like, Harry," she told him with a stern frown, "I was just-"
"Just what? Shagging him?"
"No!" she replied, appalled at his rude tone, "I was comforting him. He was having a nightmare, that's all."
"Comforting?" he spluttered in disbelief, his skin dotting with a crimson blush of anger, "Is that what you call it?"
Hermione felt her teeth gritting together at his words and she folded her arms in front of her.
"For your information, Harry James Potter, yes it was just comfort. But even if it was something more, would that be so wrong?"
His mouth dropped open in an expression of revulsion.
"Are you mad? He's a Death Eater!"
"Not anymore."
"He has a bloody Dark Mark branded on his arm, Hermione."
She winced a bit at his tone, not used to hearing her friend sound so cruel. But his eyes were burning with rage in an expression she hadn't seen since the days of Professor Umbridge. She let out a breath and tried to speak to him calmly to diffuse the tension.
"It's just a mark, Harry. It doesn't define who he is now."
"Bullshit. Malfoy's always been an evil, slimy little prick. And he's clearly manipulating you! I bet he didn't even have a nightmare, he was just faking it."
She snorted, throwing her hands up and stalking past him, further into the corridor.
"Don't be ridiculous. Why would he do that?"
"To turn you against me."
Hermione stared at him with incredulity. She blinked a couple of times in shock at his ludicrous suggestion. But the more she thought about it, the more she realised that she should have expected this. Harry was her best friend and she loved him dearly. But he really did have a problem seeing the world in different shades of grey. To him everyone was either good or evil with no moral ambiguity in between. She thought of the way he had panicked and become so conflicted over Snape's memory of his father James. He could hardly reconcile the idea of his dad being a good guy while also having done some terrible things. So the fact that Draco Malfoy used to treat them so cruelly was a history that he simply could not overcome. Once a Death Eater always a Death Eater. She actually pitied her friend. After everything he'd been through, he was pretty messed up.
"Harry please listen to me," she said in a forced steady voice, even though she was seething quietly inside, "Draco is not our enemy. He regrets his past and he's trying to do the right thing. Horrible things have happened to him…"
"So you're calling him Draco now? You're defending him? How could you do this to me?"
Hermione groaned and knotted her fingers into her hair.
"To you? Merlin Harry, I'm not doing anything to you! This is my life, my choice. It's actually none of your damn business."
"So you are shagging him?"
"No I'm not! But that still doesn't give you the right to forbid it."
Harry glowered at her, pacing back and forth in front of her. His hair was sticking up in all directions and his face had gone white. Hermione watched him in her own state of silent fury. How dare he speak to her like this? She knew that he distrusted Malfoy, she knew he hated him, but there was no excuse to treat her like she had betrayed him.
"He cursed Katie Bell! He almost killed Ron!"
"Those were the actions of a desperate boy," she retorted powerfully, her chin held high, "Do you really think he fully planned out those things as part of some evil scheme? Do those seem like the plans of someone thinking rationally? Or was it someone who was frantic and half mad with fear?"
"I don't care! I should never have let you speak to him in the first place."
"Let me?" she repeated furiously.
"He's using you! He's just trying to control you."
"You are way out of line, Harry. You are being totally unreasonable. You're blinded by your prejudices."
Harry's frown deepened and he froze in his pacing to step closer to her. He wasn't that tall really, but he seemed to tower over her.
"So that's it. You're happy to betray your best friends for him? For a quick shag?"
"For goodness sake, I'm not shagging Draco Bloody Malfoy!" she spat out in a tired, frustrated tone. The palms of her hands were sore from little crescent shaped indents where her fingernails had dug into her skin. She was also a bit self-conscious about the fact that her and Draco did actually have a past. They had kissed before, and even though it was a long time ago she could hardly ignore or deny the fact that she wanted to do it again. Falling asleep pressed against his body every night was…nice. More than nice. He was always so warm against her skin. And so tall that she felt safe and precious wrapped tightly in his arms, her petit form burrowed against him. Getting to know him the last week or so had also uncovered feelings deeper than she'd thought possible.
"But you want to," he remarked, seeing her guilty expression, "I've watched you spending more and more time with him, always disappearing into his room for hours. And now you're sleeping together!"
"So? I'm supposed to be taking care of him, aren't I?"
"You're supposed to just watch him to make sure he doesn't hurt anyone or do anything dangerous! Maybe get some information out of him. Not hop into his bed at night like some kind of..."
Harry trailed off sullenly and she felt her cheeks flush red with embarrassment and barely supressed rage. Her eyes turned cold as her friend squirmed beneath her stare. He looked instantly remorseful, his teeth biting down hard into his lower lip.
"Some kind of what?" she questioned in a steely voice. Harry looked nervous at first but then his face actually dropped and it seemed as though a lot of the anger had suddenly left him as his shoulders sagged. His eyes closed briefly and he let out a long, shaky breath. He stayed silent for a few moments while he collected himself before he spoke.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I just… I don't understand this, Hermione! This is Malfoy we're talking about."
She took a deep breath and thanked Merlin that he was finally calming down. A small flicker of hope lit up in her chest, seeing her opening. She looked her friend straight in the eye with every bit of sincerity in her tired body.
"No, Harry. This is me we're talking about. Not Malfoy. Have I ever let you down or given you any reason to doubt my judgment?"
"That's not-" he began, but she could see that his heart was no longer really invested in his argument, so she stepped forward and touched her hand lightly to his chest.
"Have I ever done anything to break your trust in me?"
She could see Harry's doubts and suspicion start to crumble. She saw the thread of anger in his eyes snap and burn out as he looked to the floor in shame. She knew his temper was legendary and that it had gotten into many difficult situations, mostly with Snape or Malfoy actually. But he always did the right thing in the end when he finally saw through that red mist. She thought she heard him very faintly whisper the word "no" as he stared at the floorboards with an expression of desolation.
But before Hermione could truly breathe a sigh of relief, that was the moment when things turned infinitely worse. A stiff spluttering sound could be heard in the shadows of the staircase and then the ginger head of Ron Weasley slowly emerged. His cheeks were flushed so dark the pinkish tinge was clashing with his hair. His ears were scarlet. And he was barely containing the shaking of his dangling fists as he stared at her in horror. Hermione closed her eyes for a moment, dreading what was coming next. She felt a jolt of nausea shoot down into her stomach and she wished with all her might that she was back inside the cramped, cosy room behind her. She wished she was still curled up with Draco in their own little world where all that mattered was seeking comfort against the pulsing heat of each other's bodies. Where he whispered sweet words into her ear and she brushed her fingers over his alabaster skin to calm his tormented thoughts.
Most of all she wished that Harry had just minded his own business. The last thing she wanted was to get Ron involved. If she wanted to sleep with Draco Malfoy then she would bloody well do it. She didn't need anyone to lecture her on who the enemy was.
But then she realised that Ron was a slightly different issue. He was looking at her like she'd slapped him in the face. His expression was twisted with jealousy. He would certainly take her actions much more personally. They had been dancing around each other for a while, neither one wanting to take the leap to get into something serious. Hermione wondered now whether they had ever stood a chance. It was true that she had certainly felt awkward and envious when he had been flaunting his relationship with Lavender Brown. But confusing her feelings throughout it all had been the memory of kissing Draco in fifth year. The intensity of that moment had left her breathless and quaking down to her toes. Hermione was certain that if she had felt even a fraction of that kind of longing for Ron she would have done something about it. Now it seemed she should have probably had a serious talk with him about it ages ago.
"Mione? You're sleeping with that fucking Death Eater?" were the first words to come out of Ron's mouth, spittle flying from his lips. Hermione groaned in annoyance.
"No!"
Ron practically stomped his foot in his rage.
"Don't lie to me. I just heard Harry say that you were in his bed."
She felt her pulse race and she fiddled nervously with her locket.
"Well…yes, technically I was in his bed… but nothing happened…" she stammered, not really sure how to handle Ron. With Harry she had felt indignant and within her rights to scold him for his misconceptions. But Ron was likely to get really hurt, because unlike Harry his heart was on the line. His anger came from a place of jealousy.
"How could you, Mione?" he whispered in disgust, "Malfoy? Seriously? That evil piece of filth?"
"He's not…" she sighed and trailed off, not sure that defending Draco was going to win any battles in this situation. Ron would be determined to despise him no matter what. But at her tentative words he went a shade darker until his cheeks were almost purple, stepping up to stand shoulder to shoulder with Harry.
"He's not what?" He paused, but when she didn't respond he continued, "Tell me the truth. Do you fancy that evil git?"
Hermione remained silent. She knew the answer to his question of course, but saying it out loud to the boys in a moment of anger didn't feel right. It wasn't supposed to come out like that. And she'd only just accepted it recently herself. But her silence only confirmed his suspicion.
"Bloody hell. You cannot be serious," he was shouting now, and Hermione tried to stand steady and calm in the face of his rage, "After all this time, after everything you and I have been through, you choose him? That slimy stuck up little ferret?"
She cleared her throat and raised her chin up high.
"I'm not stupid. I'm not merely going to jump into something with my eyes closed. You just don't know him like I do, so you can't possibly understand."
She stood her ground as Ron approached her, moving so close that she could feel the wild, hot air of his breath on his face, sharp from his panting. His eyes widened in stunned disbelief.
"I understand what it feels like to be stabbed in the back," he hissed and Hermione flinched a bit at the malice in his tone.
"It wasn't my intention to hurt anyone," she retorted stubbornly. Ron's body shook with barely restrained fury. She'd never seen him so unbridled.
"That fucking son of a bitch tried to kill me!"
Hermione swallowed. A muscle twitched in her jaw as she contemplated the two boys before her in concern.
"He didn't try to kill you, Ron. He had no idea you would be the one to drink that wine. He was desperate and sca-"
"Don't give me that shit," Ron argued and she saw Harry look distinctly uncomfortable over his shoulder, "He's playing you. The only reason he's here now is because he's a fucking coward."
"He's here because he doesn't want to be a Death Eater. Doesn't that count for something?" she reasoned, her hands on her hips as her hopes for a resolution started to drift further and further away. A dull weight settled in her chest, one of dread and anguish.
"He's here because he wants to seduce you, Mione! He planned it all along, turning up out of the blue with your stupid bloody locket. And you just let him get away with it. Harry and I have talked about it, we both reckon he's still on their side. He's here on another mission."
Hermione looked towards Harry for confirmation but he couldn't meet her eye.
"Ron…" he began wearily, before trailing off and looking at the wall again with an expression of uncertainty. She felt a bit sick. She knew that Harry at least didn't really believe this. But she also knew how hard it was for him to stand up to Ron. He had never quite recovered from their fight in fourth year when the two boys had gone their separate ways for a while. The isolation had been too much for him. Harry had dealt with a lot of loneliness in his life, so naturally he clung to his friendship with Ron more than anything.
"What mission?" she challenged in a voice that somewhat resembled a growl.
"He's been sent here to turn you against us," Ron declared, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Hermione barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes at his ridiculous claim. But she did glare at both boys at the realisation that they'd been discussing her like this behind her back. Harry instantly flushed with guilt.
"You can't seriously believe that?" she asked, her eyes flicking between both her friends as disappointment clenched in her gut. Harry looked like he wanted to be anywhere else in the world right now.
"It's obvious isn't it?" Ron sneered and his face was truly looking a sickly purple colour now. He opened his mouth to speak again and she could tell from the expression on his face that he had lost it. Whatever he was about to say was going to be bad. Hermione had always been able to read the signs and know exactly when Ron would stick his big feet right in his mouth and lose control of his senses. It was one of his most unforgiving vices. He looked at her with vicious eyes and drawled, "We just never expected you'd be so willing to spread your legs-"
Hermione's chest seized in a convulsion of sadness at his words. She had known this was coming, she knew logically that he was being fed this cruelty by his jealousy at the thought of her with Malfoy when it was so clear that he was burning a candle for her himself. But unfortunately not everything was logical. Her heart still ached at the callous disregard for her feelings. In the corner of her eye she saw Harry's mouth drop open in surprise at his friend's words too.
Then, as if it wasn't already terrible enough, the one voice that was bound to tip everyone over the edge and make everything worse suddenly chimed in and Hermione spun around in alarm.
"You'd better shut your fucking mouth, Weasel."
Draco Malfoy was leaning in a deceptively casual stance against the doorframe of his room. But despite his laid-back body language and his serene tone of voice when he spoke, his grey eyes were positively burning.
Oh…holy…shit…
On the surface it was the same pale haired boy she had gotten to know so well, the tender, sensitive one she had come to care very deeply for. But simmering there beneath the surface was a hint of their old Slytherin nemesis, proud and vicious and unforgiving. And he had murder written in his silvery stare. Hermione could only stare dumbstruck at him as his lips curled into a cold, threatening snarl.
Draco Malfoy was back with a vengeance.
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When he woke up, Draco instantly knew that something was different. He blinked drowsily for a moment, taking in every detail of the room, but it looked the same. The bed next to him still carried the indent of Hermione's head on the pillow and the sheets were warm. They smelled softly of lavender and honey. Draco's lips twitched into a smile as he stretched his limbs out, enjoying the way his joints cracked. He propped his head up and peered around the room more closely. When it still appeared as though nothing was out of place, he spun his legs around to slip out of bed.
That was when he heard it.
There was a strange noise coming from outside the room. It sounded like raised voices that were muffled by the thick wooden door. Draco frowned in puzzlement. He couldn't usually hear anything going on outside the room. Hermione was more than willing to bend the rules where he was concerned, but when she left his room in the early morning, she still always remembered to recast the wards and charms keeping his room isolated. He didn't resent her for doing it. Draco had a feeling that she wasn't just obeying the Order, but that she was also trying to keep him safe and secure from anyone who might want to harm him. With a twinge of anxiety, Draco contemplated the door on the other side of the room. Slowly, he crept over and tilted his head very close so that he could hear what was going on more clearly.
There was definitely an argument happening outside, and he could distinguish Hermione's voice indistinctly through the door. She sounded calm enough, but there was an underlying tension in her voice that made the fine hairs on his spine prickle and stand up. Then another grating voice cut through hers and he curled his hands into fists. It was unmistakably that stupid oaf Ronald Weasley. Draco shuffled forwards to press his ear against the door, listening to the conversation outside. The ginger menace was accusing Hermione of stabbing him in the back. He rolled his eyes. What a wanker. Then he heard the ridiculous accusations that he was somehow trying to seduce her, and Draco's blood boiled with disgust. How could they have so little faith in their friend? She was without a doubt the most intelligent and compassionate person he knew. Even if he were trying to manipulate her, he would never be successful. She was much too loyal. She couldn't be turned from the ones she loved so easily, even if he had intended to try. And anyway, it sounded like they were doing a far better job themselves turning her against them than he ever could.
Draco pressed his hand against the door and felt for the vibrations of magic that would signify the usual wards sealing the room off from the outside world. But just like the silencing charms, they were missing. Maybe Hermione had been taken by surprise and didn't have time to recast them. Draco tentatively grasped the handle and tested it out. He felt it give a bit and he twisted until the door opened just a fraction. Inching forwards, he peered out through the gap and observed the scene before him. Weasley was the most prominent figure in the group, mostly because of his stupid orange hair and the matching bright flush of anger spread all over his face. Potter was lurking there too, his mouth turned down in a sad, guilty frown. Then he noticed Hermione, standing with her hands on her hips facing away from him. Her curls were still a bit wild and tousled from the night before. He couldn't see her face, but he could tell from the way she was holding her body so tensely that she was upset. Her foot was tapping nervously on the ground, a gesture so subtle he wouldn't have recognised it if he hadn't been studying her as intently as he had been for over a year. She was feeling hurt, and that made a wave of righteous anger swell up inside him, desperate to seek revenge on anyone who dared cause it. He had already brought her enough pain in his life so far. He would be damned if he allowed any more to occur if he could do anything about it.
As he opened the door wider, he watched with concern the way Weasley's pathetic face screwed up in an expression of petulant rage as the spit flew from his lips.
"We just never expected you'd be so willing to spread your legs-"
Draco felt his spine prickle at the horrible words. His stomach clenched with a sick feeling as he leaned into the wall next to him. A cold, fearsome expression overtook his features as his face stiffened and turned menacing.
"You'd better shut your fucking mouth, Weasel."
His eyes were staring daggers into Weasley's, enjoying the look of abject horror there. But he was distracted the moment that Hermione spun around to look at him. She seemed so vulnerable, and it shook him to his core. He loved how strong she was, how she could handle anything that came her way. But it was very different when it was your own friends you had to stand up to.
He stared intently into her round, bottomless brown eyes to ascertain that she was okay. But it was this momentary distraction that made him drop his defences. As he shuffled forwards slightly to check on Hermione, he didn't notice Weasley barrel forwards. When he realised the moron was flying at him, Draco's first instinct was to reach down for his wand. But it wasn't there. Of course it wasn't, they'd taken it away from him. His gut reaction was to cast a shield charm or respond magically, but he had forgotten in the rush of activity that he had been stripped of his wand and was no better than a muggle.
The fist seemed to come out of nowhere. The punch lacked any finesse of course. Even in a brawl Weasley was a clumsy fuckwit. It hit his jaw lopsided and made a crunching sound. He heard Hermione gasp at the same time as he felt the slight sting of pain. Draco reeled back into the wall, but recovered fairly quickly. It really wasn't a particularly hard punch. He wiped casually at his chin and cocked his head to the side.
"Is that the best you've got?"
Weasley was shaking with rage as he stood there dumbly, his fists swinging at his side. Potter had moved forward with an expression of slight shock to stand behind him, holding his friend back from inflicting any more damage.
"Why don't you crawl back into your room like the cowardly little snake that you are, Malfoy!" the red head spat.
"How original. Calling me a snake. I never would have thought of that one," Draco drawled, pleased that the attention was on him now so that the idiot didn't keep insulting Hermione.
"Shut your mouth, Death Eater! We know what you're up to!"
"Ron!" Hermione cried with an expression of outrage.
Draco stepped forward a couple of paces so that he was nose to nose with the ginger menace. He snarled at him and gave him a withering look.
"You really are as dumb as you are useless, Weasel. I heard your pathetic little accusations before. Are you honestly that stupid?"
"Shove off, Malfoy. Get out of me face."
"You really think that abandoning everyone I know and risking my life, throwing myself into the hands of your pathetic Order was all part of some great big ploy to get into your friend's pants?"
"How should I know? You're the evil wanker here."
"You sure sounded more confident about it when you were accusing Granger a second ago."
Weasley blustered a bit, puffing his chest up and trying to make himself seem bigger than he actually was. He might be tall but he was a scrawny freckled git. He didn't stand a chance.
"Just keep your filthy hands off her, Malfoy."
"Why? Are you worried that I'm going to steal your girl?" Weasley opened and closed his mouth a few times like a bloated fish and Draco almost rolled his eyes at how easy it was to rile him up. He sighed and continued in a low, dangerous tone, "Well I've got news for you, Weasel. Firstly, she's not your girl. And secondly, I'm pretty sure that no power on this earth could tell Granger what to do."
The other boy looked a bit stunned for a moment as he grappled for his next argument.
"You've probably imperiused her or something!"
Draco actually rolled his eyes and groaned. Behind them he saw Potter shake his head a bit in bewilderment. Clearly he thought his friend was going a bit far with his reasoning.
"Bravo Weasley. You beat your own record for sounding like an imbecile. How exactly am I supposed to curse her when I don't have a wand?"
"I dunno, maybe you stole one…"
"And even if I did have a wand," Draco continued in a dry voice, "Unlike you, I'm not actually stupid enough to curse Hermione Granger, am I? I'd probably end up on my ass hexed six ways from Sunday. She's a bloody lioness."
"Stop talking about her like you give a damn about her!"
Hermione chose that moment to stomp her foot and groan in frustration at their display of animosity.
"Will you both stop talking about me like I'm not here?"
Ron turned to look at her with narrowed eyes. He was staring at her like she was a stranger to him.
"He's Death Eater scum, Mione! Just like he was at school. Remember the names he used to call you? Why can't you see that he hasn't changed?"
"He has," she argued fiercely, a stubborn scowl on her face, "If you'd just calm down and stop acting like a blast-ended skrewt then we could talk about this rationally. You don't even know him."
Draco's eyes met hers over Weasley's shoulder and his gaze softened a bit at the hint of concern painted there. A look of understanding passed between them. She didn't want any more conflict and this was killing her. With a relenting sigh, he started to take a subtle step back from the ginger haired boy, knowing that she was the one who needed to deal with this situation in her own pacifying way. That was his intention, anyway. But then Weasley opened his dumb mouth again and when he spoke his stare was as cold and spiteful as the grave.
"I know exactly who he is. He's Daddy's little murderer. Your father must be so proud, ferret."
Draco felt a tremor of anguish pass through him, a fairly common reaction to any mention of Lucius these days. His casual façade cracked and his cheeks flushed pink. Hermione gave a little moan of pity and her eyes widened as she watched his visceral response to the comment take over him. With a short, sharp jab he punched the ginger haired boy in the nose with deadly accuracy, hearing and feeling the crunch under his knuckles. It was a significantly more effective hit than Weasel's, he thought coldly, watching the useless twat grab at his face and howl in pain as blood spurted from his nose.
He went to grab Weasley by the throat, his fingers shaking, wanting nothing more than to wring the life out of him with his bare hands. But then suddenly the tip of a wand was pointed right in his face and he froze. Potter had raised it in front of him, looking nervously between his friend and the blond Slytherin. Draco took a tentative step back so that the wood wasn't pressing against his skin, raising his hands with a mocking bow of surrender.
"Harry! Please don't," Hermione called out to her friend in a horrified tone, stepping forwards to intervene but not sure what she could do. But Potter was looking around fairly calmly, and he seemed to take a few deep breaths as his friend whimpered in the background, trying to stem the blood flowing from his nostrils.
"I think Hermione's right," Potter said slowly, exchanging a careful, comforting glance with the curly haired girl, "I think we should just…"
But before he could finish, a spell vibrated sharply across the group, reverberating around the small space and bringing them all down to their knees. The wand flew from Potter's hand and landed in the grasp of Minerva McGonagall.
"Enough!" she announced into the small corridor as they all huddled on the floor in surprise, "I will not have you all duelling like a group of hot-headed first years."
The boys tried to open their mouths to argue with their head of house, but she had clearly silenced them as well as disarming them.
"Hermione, what in Godric's name is going on here?" she asked sternly, and the girl blushed under her scrutiny.
"Um…just a… small disagreement, Professor."
Minerva glared at them all one by one, and they cowered under the intensity of her scowl. She was a pretty fearsome lady when she wanted to be, Draco thought. Finally she looked back to her star pupil and released the freezing charm with a whip of her wand. Weasley was still clutching his face and whining. He was such a wimp, Draco thought sullenly to himself. The older woman observed them carefully over the rim of her glasses for a little while longer and then spoke again in a steady voice that brooked no room for discussion.
"Take Mister Malfoy back to his room, Hermione. I believe Molly Weasley can find something useful for these two dunderheads to do in the kitchen."
The girl nodded hurriedly, moving to do as her mentor ordered with impressive efficiency. She gently helped him up off the ground and ushered him back inside so fast he barely had time to flinch at the pain in his jaw from that stupid clumsy punch. He felt a trickle of satisfaction that he'd inflicted a lot more damage himself.
As she grasped the door handle, he saw Hermione share a last, slightly despairing look with Potter whose face was now crumpled up in an equally miserable expression. Then he was cut off and the door was sealed shut behind her. He watched with no small amount of anxiety as she concentrated on re-erecting the wards and charms on the room. She seemed overly focused on her task and her shoulders were tense again. The same foot was tapping against the floor like crazy.
"Your friends are total wankers," he commented bluntly, still seething from their argument, "Where do they get off criticising you for something that's none of their bloody business? And I swear to Salazar if that ugly freckled git says anything foul like that to you again-"
His voice faded a bit when he saw that Granger wasn't even really listening to him. She was holding her wand to the door and casting a few extra charms on it, but her hand was shaking so hard she was having a difficult time keeping it steady. Instantly his anger crumbled, to be replaced only be a wave of concern at this sign of vulnerability.
"Uh…Granger?" he asked tentatively, moving up to stand behind her.
"Not now, Draco," she responded tightly, putting the finishing touches on her casting before finally she turned to face him.
And then it was just the two of them alone in the eerie silence of the room, and he found that he didn't know what he was supposed to say. Clearly his anger would not achieve anything here, that's not what she wanted. He saw the shadow of distress in her gaze and the pallid skin of her face and his heart clenched in sorrow. Reaching out a hand very slowly he brushed his knuckles against her cheek, watching her closely.
"Are you okay?" he murmured so softly he wasn't sure she'd heard him. And that was all it took for the dam to break. She blinked a few times as her eyes swam with tears and then she was falling forwards into his waiting arms and sobbing against his chest.
Once the initial shock passed, Draco let her cry for a long time, just murmuring nonsense into her hair. He lowered them both to the ground, and she shuddered, pressing her weight against him. He rocked her back and forth a bit, rubbing his hand over her back. He'd never really given someone comfort like this before. He wasn't sure he was doing it right, but this is what he saw other people doing sometimes back at school. At home growing up crying was always a terrible weakness and everyone just told him to bottle things up. But he thought maybe he was doing okay, since he felt her slowly relaxing against his body. She'd comforted him like this after his nightmares, very tender and quiet, and it always soothed his frayed nerves.
He couldn't imagine what it was like fighting with friends as close as them. He'd never really had any friends he cared about enough to even bother fighting with them at all. He felt the front of his shirt cling to his skin a bit as her tears soaked through the material, and he grimaced at her pain. When her tears finally petered off and he heard her release a few gentle hiccoughs, Draco shifted his legs slightly beneath him. It wasn't exactly comfortable on the floor, after all. Making a quick decision, he hoisted her up into his arms, marvelling at how little she actually weighed, and carried her over to the bed. Contemplating the small space, Draco slid across until he sat upright against the headboard, propping Hermione up between his legs, her back to his chest. He kept his arms around her and she slowly melted against him.
"I'm sorry, Granger," he began, murmuring softly into her ear, "I never meant to come between you and your friends."
"I know," she croaked quietly, tilting her head to mumble the words into his chest, her breath hot against his skin. It felt different. He realised it was the first time they'd really been together like this when it wasn't pitch black and they weren't half-asleep, "I'm sorry Ron hit you."
Draco snorted in disdain at the reminder of the so-called punch, and he felt the tugging of a smile on her lips where they rested near his heart. They were silent for a while, just matching each other's breathing, before Hermione spoke again.
"Can we just stay here?"
Draco smiled, reaching up to hesitantly run his fingers across her silky curls in a soothing gesture just like she'd done for him after his nightmares.
"For how long?"
He thought she wasn't going to answer, since her body had become fairly boneless against him. But then he heard the barest hint of her voice mumbling against his shirt so quietly he almost missed it.
"Forever."
A tingling of something happy and soft crept pleasantly up his spine and infused warmth into his entire body.
"Sounds good to me," he replied quietly. Shifting his arms slightly, Draco enfolded her more tightly in his embrace and rested his cheek against her hair. Hermione's breathing had slowed and he thought that maybe she was falling asleep. Even though she had only recently woken to leave his room, the stress of the argument and her convulsive crying had drained her to the point of exhaustion.
"Hermione?" he murmured, and heard her hum questioningly in response, blinking owlishly up at him. Fuck he wanted to kiss her so bad. But the timing was all wrong. She was tired and distraught. He smirked down at her instead, gazing into her drowsy brown eyes, and thought about how much he had learned about her just in the last couple of weeks. And not just from playing their little game, but from allowing her in past the prickly walls he'd spent years building around himself. He was actually seeing her for who she really was and he was letting her see him, flaws and all, in return. Ever since fifth year he had been watching her and thinking about her for so long he had been worried he'd created some kind of false mirage in his mind just to cope with everything. But this felt so real now. So tangible. And the reality was a thousand times better than the dream he'd been obsessing over. He took a shaky breath and spoke in a hushed tone.
"I've thought of a new question you can ask me."
Hermione's lips stretched into a lazy smile even as her eyelids drooped.
"Hmmm? What is it? Favourite Wëird Sister?"
Draco chuckled, running his fingers over her hair again and enjoying the weight of her heavy curls in his hand.
"Well obviously it's Kirley Duke on lead guitar, but that wasn't what I had in mind," Draco answered wryly. Hermione grinned and tilted her head patiently, waiting for him to continue, "You should ask me what my biggest regret is."
Her smile faded a bit at the seriousness of the question but he nodded encouragingly at her to go ahead so she took a deep breath.
"Draco, what's your biggest regret?" she whispered blearily into his chest, watching him with those big brown eyes, heavy and clouded, on the verge of sleep. He stared at a crack in the wood on the window pane next to them for a long moment before he answered, meeting her eye again with an intensity that made her shiver.
"My biggest regret is that, after that night in the hospital wing, I didn't just kidnap you and run away with you before any of this mess began."
Hermione was silent for a while, and he wondered if he had upset her, but then she smiled sadly at him. She burrowed closer into his warmth and let out a deep breath against his neck.
"Sounds good to me," she echoed his words from earlier, and his heart swelled. And as he watched her slip into a deep, dreamless sleep, he thought to himself that he would do anything to hold onto this perfect moment, even if it meant trying to make nice with her stupid friends. He would actually go out there right now and apologize to the troll-brained git for punching him if he had to. If that's what it takes he'll do it, he thought. He just wanted to stay here holding this powerful, fragile girl in his arms. Forever, she'd murmured softly into his chest. And that was more than all right with him.
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She wasn't sure what had woken her, but when she came to it was pitch black outside. Between sleeping and talking about nothing in Draco's arms all day, it had somehow become night again. Hermione eased herself from the blond Slytherin's embrace, reluctant to leave the warmth of his arms. Her fingers lingered over his pale skin for a few more seconds before she rose and turned towards the door. The wards yielded to her touch and she slipped from the room like a ghost. She wouldn't normally leave and use the bathrooms outside, preferring to stay within the confines of Draco's room and his small toilette. But something was prodding at her and calling her away as if she was being pulled along by a thread. She crept through the silent house and around two corners, her feet creaking on icy floorboards.
Finally she came to the rickety old staircase that spiralled up through the middle of the building. She glanced up and decided to go and check upstairs. Something wasn't right and it was gnawing at her inside. When she emerged into a new hallway at the top of the stairs she stared numbly at the speck of light before her. Moonlight fell in a small patch on the door to Harry and Ron's room, which was propped slightly ajar. Feeling an aching sense of dread in her chest she glided forwards on bare feet. Her hand reached out and gently pushed it open. It made an almighty groaning sound on its hinges as she stepped inside the room.
It was empty.
There was no sign of either boy within the decrepit walls of their room. The two beds were rumpled but empty. The draws were askew, as if cleared in a hurry. None of the usual piles of clothes lay scattered about. As she stumbled forwards to stand in the centre of the room, Hermione's desperate eyes sought out the one thing that she knew should be there no matter what. The one item that followed Harry everywhere. The snitch he'd won in his first Quidditch match. The one Dumbeldore left him. He always kept it propped on his bedside table or near his pillow at all times, cherishing it and obsessing mindlessly over Dumbeldore's final message.
But it was gone.
The absence of that snitch confirmed her worst fears and Hermione choked on a lungful of air as she gasped. They'd left, she realised with a wave of panic, spinning to look urgently around the room in helpless despair. They'd packed their bags and snuck away in the middle of the night to continue their mission to find horcruxes. Ron even had the tent, she realised with a pitiful moan as she suddenly remembered leaving it inside his bag a week earlier. They had deserted her.
Hermione released an involuntary whimper that seemed unnaturally loud inside the empty room. She felt her legs tremble unsteadily and she dropped to her knees on the dusty floorboards. Taking in more deep, gasping breaths of air, she stared in horror at the emptiness surrounding her. Her brain was foggy from panting too hard and spots blurred her vision.
They've left me behind. They're gone….
And with that thought echoing like a taunt on repeat in her mind, Hermione felt the room spin underneath her as she fainted.
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Woah, so much just happened. I don't even know what you're going to say. I promise I have plans and a direction for where this is going! Please review and let me know what you think.