"So you've befriended a Malfoy."
Harry peered at Hermione over the edge of his glass of juice, his eyebrows raised. Tonight was the first time that Harry had spoken to her today, because Ron had Quidditch practice and he was more focused on that. She kept fidgeting, trying to keep her gaze on anything but Harry.
"Just Draco," she said, staring at her lap. "Only Draco Malfoy."
"I think I got that far," Harry teased. "But I honestly didn't expect you two to become . . . friends. That sounds so odd, doesn't it ― ?"
"Yes, Harry, it's all very odd," she said. "I get it."
He placed his glass down on the table and narrowed his eyes at her. "Are you all right?"
"All right? All right?" She crossed her arms across the table and slammed her head into them. "No, I'm not all right, Harry. I'm sorry, but I'm just not. And it's not you, trust me. . . . Well, actually, it kind of is you. You weren't ―"
"Weren't what?" he asked.
She took a deep breath and looked him in the eye. "You weren't supposed to know we were friends."
"So you thought that hiding your friendship from me was a good idea?"
"Harry, I'm sorry, it's not that," she said. "It's just . . . I didn't know how you'd react, with you two being the way you are and all. . . ."
"I'm not saying I'm happy about it," he said, "but I'm not exactly in a position to tell you who to be friends with, am I? . . . Is Ron to know about this?"
"No," she said, hastily. "The less people, the better."
He smirked at her. "You're embarrassed to be friends with Malfoy, aren't you?"
She shook her head, but blushed. "No, no . . . I just don't want people to overreact. I don't think it's that big of a deal, but you never know how other people will react with all that House rivalry everywhere. I know for a fact Pansy Parkinson wouldn't be too pleased to hear it. She already thinks we're a bit too friendly . . . not like that, of course!" she added quickly, blushing harder.
He raised his eyebrows. "I didn't suspect you were like that, Hermione. It's funny, Malfoy actually jumped to the same conclusion last night ―"
"He what?" she hissed, leaning over the table.
"I was talking to Malfoy last night on the walk," he explained. "I was talking to him about you two. I saw you two having a conversation, in case you didn't notice. Well, I was surprised that you two were being so civil, to say the least, so I asked him about it. He immediately jumped to the conclusion that I was accusing him of liking you in a more-than-friendly manner."
As he took another sip of his juice, Hermione could feel her palms getting sweaty and her face getting hot.
"So you don't ― you don't actually believe that, do you?"
He shook his head. "Hermione, I'm not an idiot."
"Good," she said breathlessly, relieved by his reply.
He sat for a moment in silence and took another drink, and then turned to Hermione again.
"So how'd you do it, then?" he asked.
"Do what?"
"Make friends with him. Last time I checked you weren't very high up on his desirable females list. And that's no insult to you, that's just Malfoy."
She thought about it for a few moments. It really was a strange thing to think about. They had both changed so much towards each other. He no longer hated her for what she couldn't change. She no longer hated him for hating her. But, it wasn't like they were both suddenly incredibly civil towards each others' respective Houses. There was still that matter of House rivalry, regardless of who were friends between the Houses. It wasn't like their friendship would unite everyone with all of that ingrained tension and animosity.
Still, it was comfortable enough for the two of them to remain on friendly terms. That was far from being an issue. But it was only each other, really. Draco still didn't take very kindly to those who he thought were below him. That was simply due to his nature and his upbringing. And Hermione still wasn't taking well to the Slytherins, either.
She smiled lightly. "I guess he just made an exception."
"That's quite an exception to make," said Harry. "Considering how his family's practically dripping in the Dark Arts. . . . It's impressive, Hermione, it really is . . . but it's still a little strange. It'll always be strange, assuming you two remain friends for quite some time. . . . Just how close are you two, anyway?"
Hermione considered not telling him. She didn't want him to think that she was divulging all of her secrets; some of those secrets had to do with other people, after all. But, she figured, Harry was still one of her best friends, and the one she had the longest. She could tell him anything.
"We ― we're very close friends, actually," she replied. "And . . . I'm not sure about this, of course, but I think . . . I mean, he's got Crabbe and Goyle, but . . . I think I might be his best friend, Harry."
Harry sat silently again, his glass of juice now empty. "You and Malfoy are best friends," he said slowly, as if trying to register it in his mind. "Pure-blood git Draco Malfoy and muggle-born genius Hermione Granger are best friends."
She rolled her eyes. "He's not a git," she snapped, but not very harshly. "He's just . . . I don't know. There's a side to him that he doesn't share with anyone else. He doesn't want to, and I don't believe he ever will."
"Can I bring up that thing I said earlier about him being romantically interested in you again?"
"We're friends, Harry," she said. "It's hard enough for Draco to befriend a girl who's a muggle-born . . . I'd say seeing her would be much, much harder. He couldn't be interested even if he tried, he's too prejudiced. But I don't think he minds being friends and just talking to someone."
"Fair enough," said Harry. After only a few seconds, he changed the subject. "So . . . Dumbledore's gone."
Hermione glanced up at the staff table. It was a peculiar sight, not having Dumbledore right in the middle, having a conversation with one of the teachers or smiling down at the students. But, Umbridge wasn't there, either . . . her absence came at a cost.
"Listen," Harry said, interrupting Hermione's thoughts. "I think we need to make plans to infiltrate the ministry."
Hermione blinked. "What?"
"If they've got Sirius ―"
She rolled her eyes again. "Harry, how do you know it's not fake ― ?"
"Was Arthur Weasley's attack fake?"
She sat silently and contemplated his words. It would be dangerous, very dangerous. But Hermione knew that it would be hard for Harry to lose one of his loved ones, especially one that was the only good family he had left.
"Fine," she said, slowly. "We'll go . . . but Harry, we need to be careful, they're probably furious about what happened to Umbridge. . . ."
Harry nodded. "Yeah, I don't care. We're going. I'll get with Ron and talk to him about it."
"When is this going to happen?"
"Tomorrow morning, if we can," he replied. "That way I can see tonight if they've still got Sirius."
Hermione nodded and stood up from the table. "All right, I'll talk to Draco, I need to explain why I won't be there tomorrow. . . ."
"He wants to know this stuff?" Harry asked, his eyebrows raised.
"Yes, I guess we talk about a lot of things," she said. "Well . . . see you, Harry."
If a situation like this had arisen a few weeks ago, Hermione would've have gone straight to her dormitory, to write in her diary. And, perhaps, a time could be set aside later to do just that. But not now. She knew exactly what she had to do right now, as painful for multiple parties as it would be.
She'd have to break up with Viktor.
Draco seemed incredibly genuine when he told her that he liked her. And she liked him back, but unfortunately never got the chance to let him know just yet. Well, maybe she'd have to very soon. They couldn't go on like this forever, especially since he had already confessed that he liked her. It would be even more awkward to just ignore it. And he clearly wanted things to get a move on, too; after all, he was still a Malfoy, and when he wants something, he wants it right then and there.
But they couldn't move forward in their relationship as long as she was with Viktor. She obviously didn't hold any romantic feelings for him anymore; everything now was Draco. But she still wanted to be friends with him, that much was certain; but any romantic feelings between the two had to be settled. After all, she didn't know exactly what Viktor was up to back at home. For all she knew, he had found another girl already. She was surprised enough that such a physical being as Viktor would want to maintain a long-distance relationship with her. And as flattering as it was, that wasn't where her heart was. Maybe Draco was right; she needed a good emotional support.
So she set off towards her dormitory to write the letter that contained everything that needed to be said.
Draco never felt quite so guilty. Yes, what he told Hermione was true; he hadn't told Umbridge anything. He was innocent in that regard. He never would've imagined telling Umbridge about the DA. . . .
. . . But a certain Marietta Edgecombe might've.
She had probably wanted to do it for quite some time, judging by the way she acted about it. She would've snitched eventually. And Draco was probably the one who unintentionally convinced her to do it that night. While he was walking on the way to his dormitory, he ran into her, all alone. And, not wanting to be impolite, struck up a conversation:
"Good evening," he said. "It's Marietta, isn't it?"
She eyed him suspiciously. "Er . . . yes. And you're ―"
"Malfoy," he replied. "Draco Malfoy. Fifth year Slytherin Prefect, member of the Inquisitorial Squad."
"Wait, are you on a patrol?" she asked, her eyes widened.
He shook his head. "I'm not assigned, but I've got the permission; it's one of the perks, you see. . . . Now tell me, Marietta, what would a fine young lady such as yourself be doing out of her dormitory this late at night ― ?"
"I'm not in an army, I swear!" she cried. "If that's what you're here for, to interrogate me, you're wrong!"
So dramatic.
He raised his eyebrows. "So there is an army, then?"
"N-no, there's not, there isn't . . ."
There was an awkward silence for a few moments as Marietta struggled for words.
Draco placed a hand on her shoulder comfortingly. ". . . I can walk you back to your dormitory, if you'd like. You won't rouse suspicion that way. Sound good?"
She looked at him oddly again. "I thought you weren't nice to people. Why is this any different?"
Well, I don't know. Maybe if you got rid of that mess of bushy, curly hair then we could talk.
"I'd rather not be strict when I can be," he replied smoothly. "But, of course, if you'd prefer I enforce some rules more harshly ―"
"No, this is fine!" she said. "It's great! I just didn't know you could be so nice. . . ."
"There's a lot of things you don't know about me, then," he said with a smirk.
She rolled her eyes. "Typical, a measly little fifth year hitting on an older girl ―"
He held his hand up to stop her. He grabbed her by the arm, dangerously close to her, and looked her dead in the eye. She wasn't even Hermione's height, so he had to look down at her.
What a pathetic excuse for a woman.
"This measly little fifth year has more power and influence than you will ever have at this school. If you don't want to pay the High Inquisitor a little visit tonight, I suggest you keep your mouth shut."
She smirked at him, in a way that he interpreted as flirtatious.
Hermione's smirk is better. Step it up.
"I like your style," she said.
"And why exactly would you like that?" he asked. "I'm threatening you."
"It's pretty forceful. I like that, it's really attractive, you know. . . ."
She placed a hand on his chest and leaned in. Draco instinctively shoved her back as lightly as he could while still getting her away.
Not today, bitch.
"Don't touch me."
"You were hitting on me when you first saw me," she pouted. "Why did everything change?"
"We have different motives," he replied. "I only wanted information. You clearly want a good snogging. And unless you can be of any use, you're not getting any of anything. Actually, no, you're still not getting anything even if you help. It'd just maybe increase your chances by like, one percent or something."
She smirked again. "I might be able to help you. Maybe we can go pay Umbridge a visit tonight."
Oh, lovely. Hermione'll be absolutely thrilled.
Draco reluctantly followed Marietta on the walk towards Umbridge's office, white-faced and shaking, knowing completely that it would hurt Hermione to no end.
And that was it. It was his fault, but he was too much of a coward to own up to it. He was a Slytherin all the way through. He was more concerned about his own safety than the safety of others. It was in his subconscious, he couldn't control it. But he wanted to. Oh, how he wanted to. But to a Malfoy, that would be impossible. And no matter what he did, he would always be a Malfoy, whether he liked it or not.
But the least he could give her was honesty. That was key in any relationship. And at this point, that was where they seemed to be heading.
He walked the corridors near Gryffindor tower, in the hopes that maybe Hermione would be there. And soon enough, he caught sight of her.
Way better than Marietta Edgecombe.
She was walking alone, looking determinedly in front of her. She had something to do, clearly. But he had to do this, he didn't care.
He sped up to meet her, and placed a hand on her shoulder when he had reached her. Her head and gorgeous mane of chocolate curls spun around to look at him. The expression on her face turned from shock to one of confusion.
"Draco," she whispered. "What are you doing here?"
Other students walked around them, leaving the Great Hall. They looked at them curiously as they passed, but no one seemed to make too big of a deal out of it.
"I need to talk to you," he said slowly. "I realize I haven't been very honest with you lately. Well, you're going to hear everything. You need to hear everything. . . . Come with me, we need to talk about some things. I know you said you wanted to talk, too, that night in Umbridge's office. . . . Let's try that Room of Requirement."
They were completely silent on the journey there. But they had eventually reached the room, after Hermione and Draco wished for a place that they could talk in private. They entered the room, which looked slightly like a living room, with couches and chairs and a lovely little fireplace. Hermione took one of the chairs, and Draco sat down in the corner of the couch closest to her.
"So . . . we both want to talk about some things," said Hermione.
Draco nodded and stared into the fireplace. "There's a lot of questions that need to be answered. . . . But I still think I've told you my side of your question. I don't know how much further investigation that needs."
"It doesn't need any," she said. "I wanted to talk about my side of it, actually."
"Oh."
"But I think you should tell me what you need to first."
"Great." He tore his gaze away from the fireplace and instead looked into the fiery pair of hazel eyes that were looking back at him. "I'm going to be completely and utterly honest with you. Do you understand the implications of this?"
She nodded.
"I don't want any arguing, screaming, or unnecessary physical punishment for this. That means no slapping, punching, whatever. Understand?"
She nodded again, but looked more let down. "So . . . it's not good, then, is it?"
"No, it really isn't," he said. "But I have the decency enough to tell you what's up, so there you go."
". . . Okay."
He took a deep breath. "So, I sort of persuaded, without meaning to, Marietta Edgecombe to come and snitch on you guys. And I'm really sorry."
Her face completely fell. She looked livid. She stood up, looking as if she were going to walk out. Not wanting to let her escape, Draco stood also and grabbed hold of her wrist. She turned around to look at him.
"We had a deal," he said. "No physical harm."
"No unnecessary physical harm!" she said. "I think this is pretty necessary!"
She swung her hand back and slapped him across the face repeatedly, with a surprising amount of force. He fell back down on the couch while she was still attacking him, holding his arms up to defend himself as best he could.
This is going to be a long night.