AN: Sorry if this chapter is a bit OOC! It was interesting to write though, to say the least. Oh and THANKS FOR THE REVIEWS. I got 14 for the last chapter and it made me do a little dance of my own! You guys roccckkkk:D
Reviewers: Karate Chic Hehe she will. Read on and see! Smurfette Mariee Here ya go, updated! Hahha maybe Hermione won't be able to wiggle her way out of this one. BeccaSucks What dance do you think it would be fun for Draco and Hermione to do? :D LadyOfTheLancashireManor Here's a super big thank you for your super nice review... This chapter! Hehe. shadowontherun Hmm. Not months though, years. About 2 years give or take! Thanks! Rachel-Not ...would grovel in submission, to feed your own ambition! Hahah. Thanks. I like those lines too :P Update here, so I get to keep my heart yes. beautifly92 Thanks:D I hope I phrased it well! Nicconicco Thanks ever so much, your review made me smile like mad(: CourtneyUchiha94 I'm sure you'll do great, no worries! Wow you're a total pro. annaRAWR Yay, your review made me smile too! Thanks a gazillion! Lollo-BookLOOVEER heehee i know right. Our dracos in denial. LK-HoGwArTs-hEaDgIrL and missygrace101 thanks for your reviews too!
Chapter 12. Waking and Dreaming
A pained cry interrupted her musings. Hermione started. Someone was getting attacked! Someone was hurt! But where? She drew her wand and scanned the room rapidly searching for the cause of the disturbance. Her eyes alighted on a thrashing figure on one of the couches. He was clad in black silk pajamas which was in stark contrast with his almost platinum blonde hair...
"Malfoy," she breathed and crept forward.
He was curled on the couch, his blonde hair messy and matted, and his face, for once, was scrunched up in fear. Malfoy whimpered, softly this time. His hands and legs thrashed violently, abruptly, hitting Hermione on her shin as she stood beside his troubled form. He's having a nightmare, she realised. He looked so vulnerable lying there, assaulted in his sleep by the evils in his subconscious. Despite her better judgement, her heart went out to him. Kneeling on the soft carpet, she tentatively reached out her hand to rest it on his shoulder, attempting to soothe him.
"Draco, wake up," she said softly, patting him gently like her mother used to whenever she had a case of night terrors when she was younger. "It's just a dream, Draco. Shhh, wake up."
Draco was in the Forbidden Forest. Night had fallen. The only light source came from the moon, round and glowing in its fullness. All was silent, except for the sound of Draco's own breathing. He was utterly and completely alone. But not for long. Someone was coming.
A cold wind whistled through the air, the leaves rustled and the trees sighed. Something moved in the blackness and Draco knew, he was here, shrouded by night, hidden in the darkness. The black cloaked figure stepped out of the shadows and glided forward, the only discernable feature Draco could see was his cat-like blood red eyes, eyes that never held a hint of compassion, only glittered maliciously in the soft moonlight. Draco's heart hammered in his chest. Fear. Pure, unaltered fear gnawed at his bones and ate away at his heart. He shivered. Cold, so cold.
"You," the man said, his voice a raw hiss. The one word was uttered with indifference, indifference that gave Draco chills. He forced himself to stand straight, to find courage to face the soulless incarnate of evil in front of him.
"You don't scare me," Draco spat, fumbling in his robes for his wand.
"Foolish boy," He chuckled mirthlessly, his laugh held no warmth, no humor. It made Draco's blood run cold. "So foolish. I scare you. Of course I scare you." He drew his wand in a careless manner and twirled it before he continued. "I have tortured and killed. I have robbed you of everything you ought to have had. Of course I scare you. How foolish of you to presume things Draco."
"You thought the bumbling idiot of a headmaster could protect you. You thought you could run away, like the spineless coward you are. You thought that you could get away. You thought that you would be safe. You think I don't know? Seeing Lucius get caught, thrown in Azkaban, shook you. Being ordered to kill the headmaster shook you. You didn't bargain for all this, did you, Draco? Yes, you were brought up in the lap of luxury. Enjoying all the privileges your sheltered life had to offer. Messed around with the Dark Arts with Lucius. Thought it was a game. Thought it was fun. Easy for you to make fun of Mudbloods, hex them in the hallways, trash talk them at meals. You thought that was all there was to it." His tone was so patronizing. Draco clenched his fists.
"And swearing loyalty to me, the Dark Lord, alongside with your father. Thought it would impress your mates if they knew you served me, didn't you. Thought it would make you a cut above the rest. Thought it meant prestige, and it does. Prestige, and honor, more than you will ever know in your worthless existence. Your little stunt, your dereliction of duty brought shame on the Malfoy name. Lucius would be disappointed. See, Draco, you didn't know what it all entailed. Perform a childish hex on muggles, yes. But use an to use an unforgivable? You didn't dare. You didn't measure up. You failed. So you ran. And you were safe with Dumbledore and Harry Potter," his voice twisted, changing from the conversational tone that he had adopted before.
The Dark Lord smiled cruelly. "Oh, yes, you fear me Draco. Not only because I could kill you with a single spell or torture you to death with my wand, but because I have obliterated every single meaningful thing you've secretly desired. You never had a father, Lucius always was cold, reserved and why? You never had a real childhood, never heard those sickeningly sweet words of affection and why? Because I taught him it was weakness to show emotion. I take great pride in that, Draco. If only you had turned out as Lucius hoped. But you didn't."
"Crucio!"
Draco prepared himself for an onslaught of pain, but instead he heard a woman's voice screaming. He whipped his head behind, only to see a woman suspended in midair, writhing in agony as her white blonde hair fanned out behind her. Merlin, no! His mother! How dare he hurt her.
Without sparing a thought to how his mother got there in the first place, he launched himself at the Dark Lord in a haze of emotion.
"No, no! Please don't!" Draco first fought, then pleaded, but all to no avail.
"Oh, I forgot," The Dark Lord said coolly, restraining Draco with a flick of his wand, and subsequently letting Narcissa Malfoy plummet to the ground. "You love your mother. More fool you, who love."
"Imperio."
Draco's mind went cloudy, foggy, like he had to trudge through a murky mist to grab hold of coherent thought. Unbidden, he raised his wand, though everything else cried out in protest.
"Do it," The Dark Lord commanded. "Now."
Draco fought, tried to resist.
"Now." Authority layered thickly in the single syllable.
He ground the word out from his lips. "Crucio."
And his heart ached with unspeakable pain as he cast an unforgivable curse upon his own mother, his body was on fire as if a thousand white hot knives were stabbing into him, his vision blurred with tears, as if he was the one whose body was being tormented by magical agony, as if he was on the receiving end of the spell, not the caster of it.
"You condemned your own self, Draco." The Dark Lord seemed to take sadistic amusement in his anguish. "You will never belong. To us, you will remain a traitor. You who betrayed your own. To them, you will be an outcast. You will walk among them, fight alongside them, but you will never be one of them. They will think you a coward, selfish and unkind. You will never be loved. You will never be accepted. And it's your own fault."
"Draco, wake up."
Something in his mind shifted.
"It's just a dream, Draco, shhh, wake up."
Just a dream, just a dream.
She watched as his eyes flickered open, and shuttered close once more. Hermione heard him utter a soft groan.
"Hermione..."
She blinked twice in surprise on hearing her actual name coming from his lips, though she chalked it up to a moment of waking confusion. Hermione had experienced plenty of those herself. Once, in a Potions class that one of the Slytherins had charmed her to sleep through, she had woken up to mistake Snape for her father. A pretty sticky situation.
"It was just a nightmare, Malfoy," she said consolingly.
Malfoy dragged his hand over his face and struggled to sit up. He seemed disorientated to Hermione, so she tried to assist. He merely swatted her away in return, as if she were a fly.
"I'm groggy from sleep, Granger, not an invalid about to die," he insisted half heartedly. He leaned against the back of the couch, shoulders slumped and disconsolate, rubbing his eyes in an undignified fashion.
Hermione sat next to him on the couch. It struck her how human Malfoy was at that moment. Without his obnoxious facade and biting tongue, he seemed as fallible as any other man. Impulsively, she rested her hand over his, hoping to comfort him somehow. At her touch, he took a deep breath, his body shuddered. Hermione contemplated snatching back her hand, but then Malfoy turned to face her, features etched with such weariness that it sent a pang through her.
"Do you feel like talking about it?" she offered, feeling a tad awkward but feeling the urge to provide him a modicum of solace at least.
"Do I feel like talking about it," he repeated hollowly, his voice raspy from sleep, turning away from her once more. "What's there to talk about? The war ended over two years ago. You won."
"So did you," Hermione reminded him quietly.
"Yeah," his voice cracked. "Won the highly coveted title of the Boy Who Jumped Ship and the enmity of most of my housemates and relatives." He laughed, but he sound was brittle.
Hermione decided to answer him honestly. "Well, I thought it was incredibly brave of you actually. Not a lot of people who've seen the darkness dare to step away and walk towards the light." She trailed off, musing more so to herself than talking to Malfoy. "And I suppose it was very nearly like walking into the lions den for you, joining the Order. Leaving the place of which you were accustomed and voluntarily entering into a...rather hostile, unfriendly environment does require a great deal of fortitude."
A reply did not seem forthcoming, so she was content to sit in silence with her one time enemy, hand in hand. The warmth of his touch was familiar, almost homey. It surprised her. The monotonous ticking of the clock signified the minutes passed, and Hermione slowly felt her eyes drooping. She was seconds away from dozing off when Malfoy spoke suddenly.
"I know I was a jerk back in Seventh Year."
Hermione did not acknowledge or refute the statement, deciding than holding her peace was the best option.
"I had my reasons," Malfoy continued. "I was...confused. Felt like the world had been snatched from under me. For the better part of my life, I'd grown up to believe in pureblood superiority and elitism. I spent my childhood watching Father practicing the Dark Arts. Cruelty and sadism was the norm. You don't understand how its like," he clenched his fist. "To have believed in something so firmly, then learn you've been wrong your entire life. So yeah, I copped out, turned over a new leaf, if you will, and joined your side. But...how was I to act? I know Potter and the rest all thought my change of heart was only because I knew in the end, the Dark Lord was going to lose. Thought I was taking the easy way out. Guess they expected me to act like, I don't know, like I used to."
"So I did. On one hand, I knew my family's ideals were wrong, but on the flipside, old habits die hard. And if no one expected me to develop a conscience, why try? Continuing in my old behaviour was comforting in an ironic way. At least I knew one thing hadn't changed and I was still a right bastard," he said bitterly, then pounded the sofa in frustration. "I don't know how to explain myself. I don't why I'm even trying to explain myself to you in the first place. In fact, tomorrow morning I'm going to pretend this never happened because I'm out of sorts from the damn nightmare and currently not thinking straight. But listen up, Granger," he said authoritatively. "You probably won't ever hear this again. I know I kind of hurt your feelings back in seventh year, with the whole Head Boy with a stick up his ass attitude problem. I knew you thought better of me, and I proved you wrong. And I just want to say, I'm sorry."
Hermione absorbed his confession and apology with a smatter of surprise. She didn't know quite what to say.
"Thanks, Malfoy," she said slowly, cautiously, tasting the foreign words and rolling it around her mouth, getting used to the unusual feeling of gratitude to the man seated next to her. Malfoy inclined his head, but his figure was hunched over, still brooding. It must have been some terrifying dream to put him in such a mood. She would have thought Malfoy would have simply shaken it off instead of being so affected by his nightmare.
"What was your dream all about?" she questioned, part of her truly desiring to provide a listening ear, yet there was also a smidgen of curiosity marring her good intentions.
"The usual," Malfoy muttered, avoiding looking at her. "The war, my mother, deserting, being threatened to be skinned alive, the Dark Lord taunting me..."
Hermione waited patiently and expectantly for him to continue. His voice dropped a notch.
"What really gets to me is that he's right," he whispered brokenly. "Everything he says, it's true."
Hermione rubbed her thumb in a circular motion on his hand reassuringly.
"What does he say?" she asked softly, as if a loud noise would somehow break the spell and Malfoy would revert right back to being his usual inconsiderate self.
"Doesn't matter." Instead of being short and curt, the answer just seemed to emphasize to Hermione how defeated her rival actually felt.
"Does too," she found herself insisting, albeit not very eloquently.
"It's not something we need to talk about now... or ever in fact."
As suddenly and abruptly as his moping started, it ended, and it ended with an unbecoming snort from the blonde wizard himself. "I can't believe it. I'm sitting here with you, Granger, divulging all my emotions and feelings, having one of those, what do you call it?"
"Heart to hearts," Hermione supplied helpfully.
"Heart to heart talks," his voice seemed suddenly suffused with mirth. "I can't believe it. If you told me a year ago, that I would be sitting with you having a tete a tete, I would have assumed you'd gone round the bend like our dear dotty old headmaster."
"Professor Dumbledore isn't dotty," Hermione protested indignantly, before allowing herself a hint of a grin. "Although I do agree with you, this entire situation is extremely improbable."
"Only you would use words like improbable in everyday conversation, Granger. But seriously, who would've thought. You sitting here with me -"
"Way past midnight-"
"Confessing our most secret fears and feelings-" He said the last few words so incredulously that Hermione had to laugh.
"With you sitting right beside me..."
Their amusement fizzled away like the last few drips from a soda can as they simultaneously looked down and realised they were still holding hands. Hermione, with a heated blush colouring her cheeks, jerked her hand back in embarrassment. She glanced away and tried to get up.
"I think I should go back to bed."
"Don't," Malfoy implored rather unexpectedly, reaching out as if to stop her. It crossed her mind, that even it be for a fleeting moment, Malfoy was scared to be left alone.
"Um," she replied, not too coherently, as giant butterflies had once again decided to roam around in the confines her tummy.
A rational thought suddenly occurred to Hermione, distracting her from her flushing cheeks and unanticipated and mostly unwelcome emotions.
"Malfoy, haven't you ever tried Sleeping Draughts? They induce dreamless sleep you know," she informed him, relieved that she was now on safe ground. Dreamless sleep potions, very sensible and pragmatic. It helped her recall the logical part of her brain that always seemed to shut down in Malfoy's presence.
"They give me the worst headaches afterwards," Malfoy frowned in return.
"You could try headache antidotes. They might have a couple in the hotel infirmary as well as the Sleeping Draughts. Or you could use those healing charms...remember the temporary pain relief spell Professor Flitwick taught us in seventh year?"
"Antidotes don't work for me. And it may come as a shock to you, Granger, but not everyone is as adept in Charms as you are. If memory serves me right, you were the only one out of the whole class to master the damn charm." He admitted this slightly grudgingly.
"I could perform it for you tomorrow morning, perhaps?"
"It's fine, Granger."
"Will you be alright, if I leave then?"
"Obviously," he said in clear indifference, but Hermione thought she detected a hint of panic behind those enigmatic grey eyes.
"Weren't you begging me not to go just a few seconds ago?" she questioned laughingly. Seeing his scowl, she quickly retracted her statement.
"You know what, I think I'll stay for a bit. Not as if I could go to sleep back in the room with Ginny snoring loud enough to wake the dead."
Hermione didn't know why she decided to stay, or why she exaggerated Ginny's snoring to have a practical reason not to go back to her room. All she knew was that she was staying here, with Malfoy, entirely on her own accord, and that all these thoughts and feelings had to be shoved into a corner in her mind and never be touched again. She settled back down on another sofa, a safe distance away from Malfoy and his hands this time.
"You can try to get some shut eye, I'll wake you up if you seem to be having bad dreams again," she volunteered, ever so self sacrificing.
Malfoy looked torn. It was plain to see he liked her suggestion, but was loath to be reliant on the muggleborn witch.
"Okay," he finally replied. Pausing to smoothen the back of his hair, he continued, almost pleadingly. "Just don't tell anyone. About any of this."
"So much for gratitude," she teased and then quickly assured him, "But of course, wouldn't dream of it."
She watched as Malfoy made himself comfortable, shifting around on the sofa and adjusting the angles of the cushions. She transfigured her own cushion into a blanket and trudged over to the blonde boy. The poor exhausted thing looked half asleep already. She draped the blanket over him and tucked it under his chin with a quick, smooth tug, the motherly action done purely on instinct.
"You aren't half bad, honesty," he murmured, looking at her blearily.
Hermione caught herself smiling at him in return, in an almost fond and affectionate way.
"Neither are you," she said by way of thanks.
She returned to the sofa, her body sinking into the plushy cushions, vowing to watch out for Malfoy. The poor wizard was more troubled than he let on and a bout of compassion for her old rival seemed to have taken up permanent residence within her. Hermione sighed to herself as she relaxed. And promptly fell asleep.
AN:Like it? Love it? Simply can't stand it? Read and review please! My first time writing stuff like this so feedback is appreciated:D