(A/N: Okay here is the new chapter. OMG such a high word count. Um yeah so there is some T/M (idk it's just like typical overactive sex drive of a teenage boy) suggestive stuff. This was supposed to be cute, I intended for a light fluffy chapter but I got this depressing chapter instead. Hope you enjoy. The characters don't belong to me but I hope you enjoy the chapter.)
Draco's prediction had been correct. He'd found Hermione exactly where he'd thought she'd be. Sitting at the small back table that looked out at the huge window, giving whoever sat there a picturesque view of the rolling landscape of the Hogwarts grounds.
He caught her between assignments, the few moments she took, allowing herself to breathe and her mind to stall, as she gazed out the window. Her brown eyes were large as she stared past the library window, past the rolling hills that surrounded Hogwarts, past the magical barrier that separated platform 9 ¾ from the muggle world, past the bustling muggle streets and into the home where her parents. He could see it in her eyes, the memories that flashed behind her dark lashes when she would tell him about her childhood. The same glistening spark flashed in her eyes now and Draco couldn't help watching her a bit longer. She was always on high alert, and in some ways he was thankful for this, but he longed for the moments when he could catch her unaware of his presence, when she was free and most expressive.
The quill in her hand dangled loosely, her grip had slipped as her mind became occupied with something more important than a school assignment. For a split second he considered leaving her to her work, knowing how she hated to put things off. He could clearly remember the day they spent searching the corridors for a student's pet frog. They'd come to a truce at that point, they were uneasy friends but friends all the same. They never did find the frog, days later they discovered that the student had accidentally casted a camouflage spell on it, making it blend in to its tank. But neither of them had minded being sent on the pointless search, they'd spent the night asking questions.
Back and forth they would ask and answer. Some questions were innocent, 'what is your favorite class' or 'how do you make your tea'. Others were harder to answer, for both of them, 'why are you friends with them' or 'what did you want to be when you grew up'. One of the ones that was hardest for Hermione to answer was meant to be a harmless joke, poking at her bookworm nature. 'Why do you take schoolwork so seriously?' He said it was a lightness that felt out of place coming of his lips but also tasted so sweet.
She stopped walking, looking at her feet as blushing red overcame her cheeks. 'It's sill.' She claimed trying to suppress the blush. 'When I first got to Hogwarts someone who knew I was muggle-born told me if I didn't do well in my classes they'd make me leave.' She shrugged, her eyes still on her feet. 'Hogwarts was the first place I didn't feel like an outcast. I wasn't the only one who had made something unexplainable happen because of their magical abilities. I didn't want to go back.'
Draco couldn't quite see her eyes but he could guess that they were sad, he decided to try something he'd always failed at as a child, something he'd given up trying to do; he tried to cheer her up. 'Well you showed that person wrong, you're top of all the classes and are more talented than most pure-bloods.'
She let out a short laugh, the blush returning to her cheeks after she'd tried to hide her embarrassment. Draco felt something swell in his chest, a bit of pride. Not the misplaced and misguided pride his father had taught him. It was an innocent pride that coupled with the lightness in his stomach made him feel almost giddy. They'd continued their search, more interested in the questions they continued asking. Hermione asked him about all the pureblood traditions and hierarchy. Draco asked about muggle technology, his father had made it that he never took Muggle studies and he hadn't learned even the basics of the muggle world. Hermione might never tell him, but there was a question that had been poised on her lips the entire time, dying on her tongue when they parted ways. She felt the question etched in the bite mark left on her lips as she made her way back to the Gryffindor common room, 'why does blood matter?'
That question was never asked by Hermione, but Draco had asked himself that question every time he noticed something new about Hermione. Her incorrigible interest in every subject Hogwarts had to offer, the way she longed to learn more than her textbooks could ever teach her. How she tried harder to perfect her technique than any other student, pureblood or not, ever had. How easily she embraced the magical world when she'd been told all through childhood that witches and wizard were just Halloween costumes and that Dragons and elves were just fairy tale creatures. Why should her blood matter when she embraced the magical world in such a way, letting it wash over and engulf her.
Back in the present Hermione had returned to her schoolwork, though her fear of being kicked out had slipped away the studious habit was ingrained in her and she was too far gone to even try and change now. She didn't want to though, her grades were easy to maintain with this habit, and it meant she had time to help her friends do theirs and just bask in the glory of not having to run to the library after Sunday's dinner to crank out a paper or project. Hermione had actually finished all the work that was due, she only had one paper left to write and it had been assigned Friday and wasn't due until next week. She eyed it, her fingers tapping the parchment, before slipping it back in her bag with all of the work she'd completed thus far. The paper could wait. She let her hair fall out of her ponytail she'd shoved it into haphazardly when she'd first walked into the library.
Draco was feeling like a bit of a creep standing just outside of her peripheral vision watching her. But he didn't want to miss seeing what she would do next. It wasn't often that the brightest witch of her age left work undone. He watched, curious, as she let her hair fall out of the elastic band, the smell of honey and mint wafting towards him, beckoning him forward. Her hands moved, her fingers slipping through her hair, getting caught momentarily on an unmanaged curl. Her eyes closed and she let her head fall back, her back arching away from the back of the chair, the curve delicate and inviting. Draco tried to ignore the way her stretching, arching her back, had thrust her chest up a bit and pulled the material of her sweater just a bit tighter, clinging to every womanly curve. He was not successful, he failed miserably at ignoring the erotic positon her stretching put her in but with all his will power he couldn't stop the rush of blood heading south or the way his pants got tighter with each passing moment. It was too much when she let out the mew as the muscles in her neck and shoulders loosened.
"Enjoying the view, Malfoy?" Hermione mocked him quietly from where she sat, her eyes still closed and a smile on her pretty lips.
"Cute Granger." He replied, smoothly hiding the fact that he could barely form words into a sentence. Her smile got wider. She laid her head on the desk, cushioned by her left arm. Her right arm reached out towards him, her fingers stretching as far as they could reach. When she could reach no further she made a grasping motion with her hand. Draco just looked at her, confused but slightly amused. When he didn't come over to her she opened her eyes, her head still on the desk as she made a soft whine, "Draco, come 'ere."
Hermione had learned that Draco couldn't stand whining, he couldn't listen to it and would eventually cave to get her to stop whining. And, as usual, she was right. Draco gave in and walked over to the table, taking her hand in his and bringing to his lips. He kissed each knuckle, remembering well how those knuckles felt against his skin. The two let out a soft chuckle, both looking towards the other for an explanation as to why they laughed.
"Third year." They answered together, memories of her passion turned violent and how it felt to be hit physically. Draco had grown up know the hurt of a hex or a curse but a punch, that was a muggle attack that he was not prepared for, especially from the nerdy girl he'd bullied for three years.
"I was such a prat." Draco announced, taking the other seat at the table. Hermione was still giggling, somehow the absurdity of Draco kissing the knuckles that had given him a bloody nose was extremely hilarious. She nodded, seeing the guilty smile that he thought she never noticed. It appeared anytime something from their past history was brought up.
"Yeah, you were. But you aren't anymore." She smiled at him, looking at him and trying to imagine how he remembered things. She brought their still joined hands up to his face and brushed the blond fringe back. "You're in need of a haircut Mr. Malfoy." She teased.
Draco's nose wrinkled at the title, preferring not to think about his father, not when his mind had been so blissfully clouded by thoughts of Hermione only moments before.
"It wasn't really a priority over the holiday." He remembered all too well how unimportant his growing hairline had been. The house elves cowered around him family, and after spending the fall with Hermione, he didn't have the heart to order them around like he knew he was expected to. He spent the holiday in his room or in silence at his father's side.
Hermione noticed how his eyes grew dark and stormy as his mind drifted away from the present. She saw the stirrings of anger and fear and hatred mixing in the storm clouds of his eyes. Bravely she stood from her seat, without caution, and sat on his lap. Her legs dangled over the side and her head leaned against his chest, her arms pressed between them as they tugged at his white shirt.
She remembered sitting like this with her father, though the top of her head was nowhere near high enough to graze her father's chin, and her legs didn't dangle just inches from the floor. When she sat on her father's lap he was comforting her. Sitting on Draco's lap, something that still felt new and strange but so right all at once, she was comforting him. She didn't know what was bothering him, she could guess, but she knew he wouldn't tell. He tried to shelter her from the dangers that surrounded his family, convinced himself and tried to convince her that if she didn't know about it, it didn't' exist and couldn't hurt her.
She wanted him to open up to her, to tell her everything. She would help him, she would make sure no harm came to him. But that was a childish dream, everyone knew war was coming, it was on the doorstep with its fist raised to the door, and the magical world was just waiting for the knock to come.
Draco wouldn't leave his family. He knew very well that he could walk away, his father would call him a traitor and his mother would cry but neither would be stop him. He had every bit of confidence in what Hermione had offered him once, a safe place, and protection among the order. But he refused to take the easy way out. He would not leave his mother to suffer alone because she choose to stand by her husband, no matter how violent he got or how he threw the family into turmoil. He wouldn't abandon her for doing what she thought would keep her family safe.
Hermione couldn't watch him, couldn't watch the storm that would only build in his eyes. The storm would never come, all the anger he felt could never be released upon those that deserved it. She willed the dampness in her eyes away but the tears fell without permission. It was the dampness on his shirt that made the storm clouds in his eyes part and disappear.
In his lap was a teary-eyed girl he would never be good enough for, there was no communion enough to wipe away the evil he would have to do. Nothing would ever wash the sins from his skin, each new atrocity would only darken the mark that he'd kept hidden from everyone, including Hermione. He didn't want to see the disappointment in her eyes when they would eventually be forced to gaze upon the mark that symbolized everything she fought against.
That Sunday afternoon, Hermione squeezing Draco's waist as she tried to stifle the tears, and Draco's arms wrapping around her hitching shoulders as the only act of protection he could ever give her. That afternoon, hidden in the back of the library, the two wore their hearts on their sleeves, silently communicating all their fears. That afternoon, someone saw them in their bare and vulnerable states.
(A/N: Hope you enjoyed reading this chapter. My god this was depressing but idc. I liked it even if I didn't' intend it to be this way. I think it kinda helped me work through some of my own sadness – very sad things are happening in my life right now so if you read this note and wonder why I don't update soon, know that sad things probably go very worse. Hopefully that won't happen though. Please review, any and all comments are welcome and will keep me writing and updating faster.)