Chapter 11

Disclaimer: Does it need saying?

Months passed in a blur, and too soon it was approaching the holidays. The leaves on the trees had long ago turned their glorious colors; the colors that Hermione had read and hoped they would turn.

She loved the colors. They gave beauty to what others may overlook. She had taken to doing her studying or homework outside on the porch, where she had set up a table just for the very reason of being the middle of it all. She loved reading out there on her spare time, with a cup of tea, and looking up to watch the leaves swirl around her and to the ground, like a vibrant soft tornado.

When she commented about them to Draco back when they first began to change color, he told her that he was impressed that she could see such beauty in death. That the leaves were dying as she stood watch over them, turning these brilliant colors as their final moments were sucked from them.

After that, she kept her comments to herself.

Draco had been acting off for a while now. He was moody, distant, and just a downright pain in the arse. Hermione had figured that he was just nervous about the lack of information and communication with his father, so she tried not to pry.

She had seen an array of men traipsing through the house from his room for at least two months. After the first one from the night they went dancing, she didn't see another guy for a few weeks, but Draco became moody and insufferable, constantly asking her if she had received letters from Harry or Severus.

Finally, she couldn't stand his mood anymore and told him to get laid. He had looked at her with something in his eyes she couldn't quite place, then replaced it with a look of determination and nodded. After that, he constantly had someone warming his bed.

A few hours after they would leave him, though, he would sink right back into a depression. Hermione regretted telling him to do it in the first place; she was now afraid he was using sex to self-medicate himself into not caring.

They were planning on going home for the four-day weekend holiday they were getting from school for the American Thanksgiving. It was only four days, but that was more than the two days they normally got. And they were both homesick. Knowing it was dangerous to be returning, they did not consult with anyone, except for Dumbledore. She had basically planned on literally popping into Grimmauld Place. Dumbledore was sending a portkey through her floo which would take them both to his office, where they could use the floo to get to Harry.

She probably could've let Harry in on it, but she wanted to surprise him.

Hermione couldn't wait, and was counting down the hours until classes were over on Wednesday. London was five hours ahead of Massachusetts, so Dumbledore was sending the portkey around three o'clock their time. Both of their last classes ended at noon and when they finally popped into their kitchen, both pairs of shoulders visibly relaxed as tension came off.

They were going home.

Running upstairs, Hermione checked her in-tray reflexively, hoping to see the portkey earlier than expected, but there was only a few letters.

"Mail?" Draco asked from her doorway.

"Yes, from Severus and Harry."

Draco's facial expression instantly tightened. She didn't even have to ask to know that he had received no such letters.

"You didn't tell them, right?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Of course not, although I'm sure Severus could be trusted. If it wasn't for the unfortunate company he keeps, that is," she added, and Draco chuckled.

"So what does Boy Wonder have to say?"

Hermione scanned the short letter, and then read it out loud.

Hermione,

I really wish you would stop worrying about me. I'm fine, and not every issue I have has to do with Voldemort, you know. Sometimes, I have real-life normal young adult issues as well.

You mentioned Thanksgiving coming up? Isn't that where you sit around and eat turkey? Are you going to attempt to cook a whole turkey, Hermione? You remember the chicken debacle. Do yourself and Malfoy a favor and just buy a cooked one, if you can.

-Harry

Hermione scowled at the letter when she finished.

"'Debacle'. Such an exaggeration. There was only a little smoke," she said, looking up at Draco. "You okay?"

Draco's face had screwed up, and he looked torn between pain and extreme anger.

"I'm fine. I could care less about what Scar Head says. You could have saved your voice. Next time, don't bother telling me what precious Potter" - he spit the name out angrily- "has to say unless it's actually important," Draco said, then turned on his heel and went into his room, slamming the door behind him before Hermione could even react. She just sat there, blinking, and staring at the spot he just stood in.

Eventually, annoyance replaced her shock and she jumped to her feet.

Even from a few feet, she could feel the wards he had put up on his door. She knew she could unravel them, but felt like giving him the opportunity to come out. First, she tested if the wards would do anything if she tried to knock, though. They seemed like standard locking spells, however, so she went and knocked on his door. And then she knocked harder. And then she got upset and started to pound on his door, telling him to get his scrawny arse out there and talk to her.

That's when he made the door impenetrable to knocking, flinging her back a foot. Fuming, Hermione stomped her foot and went back into her room, slamming the door. There was no way she would remind him about the portkey. He better be in here on time, or she was leaving without him. The portkey had a two minute delay so they would have some wiggle room.

She picked up Harry's letter, and then put it back down. She would just reply in person.

Instead, she decided to read the one from Severus.

Hermione,

I'm pleased to hear of your grade for your paper on healing potions. I'm happy that the information you pried from me was helpful in some way. Unfortunately, I've had quite a lot of experiences mixing together potions to help mitigate pain.

I would apologize for not writing sooner, but you understand my work.

How is young Mister Malfoy? He seems to be ignoring all of my communication attempts. It's almost as bad as Potter ignoring the Headmaster. And before you ask, I have no news on Potter either. According to sources, he shows up every day for his training, which he should be completing soon, and doesn't make any trouble. It seems as if he just stays home.

Well, it's time to get back to the students. They don't care what their Professor moonlights as.

Take care, Hermione.

-Severus

P.S.- The Headmaster has been nearly insufferable this past week. He's humming much more lately, and always gives me that infuriating benign smile when I ask what has him so enthusiastic. He only mentioned that he believes this is a good time of year, and that even I will find reason to be cheerful. I only mention this to you because it seems likely you would know what in Merlin's name he's talking about.

Hermione stared at the letter, her face screwed up in confusion. She had figured that Draco wasn't receiving letters. Why would he be ignoring Severus?

Unless he would read the letters and realize that they held nothing of importance concerning his father, so he refused to answer.

Hermione decided she would try to reply to him in person as well.

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At three o'clock exactly, a rather battered looking quill rolled out of her mini floo and Draco knocked on her door. When she called for him to enter, he walked in, wearing a small cinched backpack. Hermione was just finishing putting a few changes of clothes in her bottomless purse when he walked in, and stood leaning against the door frame.

The silence and tension was thick, but Hermione would be damned if she were the first to break it. He could refuse to talk to her the entire weekend if he chose so.

She finally turned to face him when he cleared his throat.

"Did Severus have anything important to say?" he asked.

Hermione just arched an eyebrow at him, unconsciously mimicking the person in question. "Maybe you would know if you answered any of the mail he sends you. Or, perhaps you would know if you wouldn't have stormed out of my room earlier for no reason!"

Draco winced slightly and walked over to the portkey, placing his finger on it to get ready.

"Listen, Hermione…I'm sorry about that. I just…," Draco trailed off. He looked like he wanted to say more, but Hermione just rolled her eyes and placed her finger on the quill as well.

"I know why you're upset, Draco," she said gently, and his eyes snapped to hers. "I can't imagine going through what you are. But that's no reason to take it out on me."

Draco nodded, and his eyes glossed over, taking Hermione by surprised. "He just pisses me off so much! It's like I don't even matter! I thought…it doesn't matter what I thought. Obviously he doesn't even care!"

"Draco! He loves you. Don't say that!"

Draco paled. "What?" he whispered. "That's ridiculous."

"No it isn't! It's not his fault! He's doing all of this for you! If Lucius could contact you, he would! But it's just too dangerous," Hermione said.

Draco had gone completely still. "You're talking about my father?"

Hermione cocked her head slightly to the side, confused. "Yes? I thought that's what…- Wait. Who were you talking about?"

"Harry, obviously! He didn't tell you?"

"About what?"

"About us!"

"What?! What's going on between you two?"

They felt the tug behind their navel at that second, and they were off. They roughly landed less than a minute later in the living room of Grimmauld Place, startling the two half naked men furiously snogging.

Hermione turned red and instinctively looked away, only to see Draco, completely pale, stagger backward a few steps.

He looked at Hermione.

"Nothing. Nothing at all," he said hoarsely, and dissaparated.

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There was virtually no sound in the large room except the popping of the fire. Hermione and Harry had been sitting in the living room for over twenty minutes in silence, neither one knowing what to say. It had been three hours since her and Draco had popped in unannounced.

Finally, Harry cleared his throat and set his tea down.

"So, you're here," he said lamely, and smiled slightly when Hermione pinned him with a look.

"We have four days off, actually. It's for the Thanksgiving holiday in America. I wanted to surprise you," she explained.

Harry let out a bark-like laugh. "Mission successful."

"Harry," she said, and he reluctantly turned his head to look at her. "What's going on?"

Her best friend dragged his hands down his face and groaned. "It's complicated."

"I'm clever."

He smirked and nodded. "It started at Hogwarts," he said after a few silent moments, "the week that I wasn't showing up to meals. Draco found me at the quidditch pitch, of course. I was sitting there, on top of the tower that holds the commentator. I had flown up there, and couldn't stop thinking about how easy it would be to just…fall."

Hermione gave a small gasp, but Harry stared straight into the fire, ignoring her.

"Prophecies will come true no matter what, so if I died, maybe that meant they would find out it was someone else meant to kill Voldemort. And I kept thinking how easy it would be to die. How quick. And then Draco flew up and sat next to me." Harry smiled sadly, still looking into the flames. "He scared me. I hadn't seen him walking, or flying up. I almost really did fall, but he caught me. Then, for awhile, we just sat there. We sat there until it was time to go to class, and then we both flew down and parted ways. Just like that. Until the next day during breakfast, he showed up again, and then again at lunch, and at dinner. Each time it was the same: we would sit in silence. I was surprised by how much I didn't mind him being there."

Harry finally turned to look at her, but it was hard to make out his eyes for the reflection of the fire on his glasses.

"Finally, on the third day, he told me he knew. He told me that he had heard you and I talking about me, and that he knew how I felt. He told me he was…was…that he was like me." At that omission, he turned his face away again. Hermione's heart felt cracked watching his pain unfold. "I yelled at him. I screamed. I told him he was disgusting and he had no idea what he was talking about. I told him he was wrong. The whole time," Harry choked out a laugh mixed with a sob, "the whole time he just sat there calmly. He let me rage at him. Then we went to class. And when I went out there for lunch, he was waiting for me already. And it started again. I yelled at him that entire day. Then, I went out again after dinner. After awhile, I realized I had stopped yelling at him, and had changed to yelling to him. I finally just sat down, and after a few minutes he told me his story. He said you already knew."

Hermione just nodded, still unable to look away from the profile of her best friend.

Harry cleared his throat. "Well, after that, for the rest of the week, we would just go to talk. Then, throughout the rest of the year, we were nicer to one another, which I'm sure you noticed." Hermione nodded again. "Then it seemed like we were always somehow finding ways to be alone. We wouldn't even plan to meet, but occasionally we would both show up to the pitch at sit there again, just talking. We would talk about school and the future and how messed up everything is. Sometimes, we would lie back on the canvas of that tower and our hands would meet. We would just stare up at the stars for what seemed like forever, just holding hands. It didn't even seem romantic at the time. We were more like an anchor for the other, holding on to someone else whilst staring into the sky, just to know for certain that you aren't alone."

Harry pushed his glasses up and wiped his eyes, then reached under the side table and pulled up a bottle of firewhiskey. He poured some in his tea and took another drink.

"The encounter with Ron hurt, but what scared me was how more upset I was at Ron for insulting Draco rather than for being an arse." Harry cleared his throat again and took a bigger drink of his tea. "When school ended and he started staying here, I realized that I felt a bigger pull to him than I should. Then, one of the nights that I was up drinking alone, Draco came downstairs and sat next to me on the couch. He took the bottle from me, gave me a sober-up potion, and kissed me. Just like that. We sat there, just snogging, for almost twenty minutes straight. When we finally pulled apart, he just nodded like he was answering a question. Then we started laughing, and started kissing again. After that, we would always find ways to fit in like snog sessions when you weren't around."

Hermione just stared at him, wide-eyed. She couldn't believe she had missed that, since she was home all the time. Then again, she spent a lot of time in her room, studying up for school or writing to Severus.

"The night we had the going away party, you went to your room. Draco followed me." He turned to look at her again. "We slept together that night. We were each other's first. In the morning, we woke up before you and he went back to his room. When we were all at the ministry waiting for the portkey, he came over to say goodbye. We hugged and he whispered in my ear that what we had done was so special to him. He said that he didn't know how I felt, but that he was going to miss the hell out of me. I started to tear up and told him I felt the same. That I didn't know what I would do without the both of you, because you both meant so much to me in different ways. Then he promised to write and you were both gone."

"I was so depressed without you both. It was hard to write to either of you, especially because his letters were so sweet." Harry's voice suddenly turned hard. "Then you wrote me."

Hermione's eyes closed and she leaned her head back on the chair. "The night after we went dancing."

She opened her eyes and saw him nodding, looking ahead again.

"I was so dumb. I thought what he said was true. That he meant it. But then you said you found him with some other man, and I got sick. Then, I got pissed off. Why should I be upset that he's with another man? We didn't lay claim to one another. He could be with whomever he wanted to. So I decided to move on."

"Harry, I had no idea. And I could tell the next morning that he felt awful about that guy. And looking back, now I see why he's been how he has. Draco's been just as heartbroken as you."

Harry barked out a harsh laugh. "Yeah, right. How many men did you say he was bringing home in all your letters? All those times you wrote to me, worried about him, and worried he was using sex to cover up emotions."

"That was my fault. I told him to get himself laid because I was tired of him being moody! I didn't know about you two! If I had, then I would have helped!"

Harry stood up and threw his glass into the fire, ignoring Hermione's wince as it shattered. "It doesn't matter! I was stupid to believe him. He never cared. I was just another lie. It's my fault for falling for it."

"You're wrong."

Hermione's head snapped to the darkened shadows in the hall, where Draco had just stepped from. His eyes were red from crying, and he was staring at Harry.

Harry had gone still at the voice, refusing to look at him.

"I meant everything I said. I cared then, and I care now." He looked at Hermione. "Can you leave? I think Harry and I have some things to discuss." His eyes darted back to Harry, who still stood completely still.

Hermione nodded and disapparated. She needed to pay Severus a visit anyway.

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Author's note:

SORRY SO SHORT! I just wanted to get this out.

Thanks for the read!