A/N: Yes, another ridiculously long wait. Get used to it, guys. We'll probably get to see the next century roll in before I finish this story.
PS. I suggest you read the last few chapters to jog your memory!
The door intimidated her. It represented what she could have had, and that was unnerving. She could have stood there, gawping at it with grim satisfaction. But Hermione Granger had something to do. Something that could not wait. The door intimidated her. Nevertheless, she swiftly thumped it with a limp fist and stepped back. There was a sort of sick irony to the fact that here she stood again, yet she was no longer an insider of the password.
She didn't dwell on it, and It didn't take long for the door to swing open. Patricia Pandora, the new Head Girl, threw a grin and gestured for her guest to come in. "Hermione, I had no idea you were coming. I would have had some iced tea ready!"
Hermione frowned and shook her head diligently, more at Patricia's radiating complexion than her lack of need for the refreshing beverage. "Don't be silly. I'm not stopping, really. I came to see Malfoy. Is he here?" Patricia's demeanour so drastically metamorphosed to this suggestion Hermione gasped. "Has something happened?"
"I'm so glad you asked, Hermione. I had surmised that Malfoy would be cold when I moved in, but hadn't realised quite how insolent he could be! I hadn't really ever crossed paths with him, so all I knew was what I'd heard but… I've been ever so taken aback by his disrespect and downright discourteousness! How did you handle it? Any coping mechanisms?" She was seated now, on the sofas Hermione knew all too well. Hermione was forced to join her, as Patricia grasped at her hands. She was pleading.
"Patricia, what do you mean? I don't—Is he upstairs?" Concerned Patricia's shrill voice would travel to his dorm, she patted her hand. "Tell me what's been going on. It's okay."
"I mean, what hasn't been going on! I stayed up late last night unpacking my things and I heard crashing and banging and immediately thought, like any normal person, that my owl, Fletcher, had broken his wing and he was having trouble flying. He does that quite a lot." Patricia paused and sighed, smiling affectionately at Fletcher in his cage. "I went down to see the potential causalities and low and behold, my roommate had returned. Hermione, it was really bad… he'd been out with that Zabini boy. He was plastered, he could hardly walk straight. He was shouting about potions and trying to hex the refrigerator. He barely even noticed me and when he did he thought I were you. I was terrified, I didn't want to leave him but neither did I want to be the brunt of his attack. So, I eventually went to bed when he tired himself out."
Hermione grunted, inside she wanted to cry. She looked at the steps leading up to his dorm and tugged at the sleeves of her jumpers, desperately seeking for it to swallow her up. "Go on."
"This morning, I thought he'd be okay. Alas, he didn't go to any classes and when I came back from my meeting with Ms. McGonagall this morning to which, by the way, he was supposed to go, there were rats running round the place. He was firing spells at them like there was no tomorrow." Patricia smiled sadly, "You've just missed him, though. He went out with Zabini to buy some whiskey. Maybe you should wait to see if you can knock some sense into him." She got up to dangling a small shrew above Fletcher's head, before letting him devour it senselessly. "I'm sorry for the rant, Hermione. I thought you'd be the right person, having experienced it firsthand, too."
"Don't worry, I didn't realise he had got that bad." She stood to leave. "I'll let you know if I get through to him."
"I'm really glad we could talk, Hermione. Especially because, you know…" She gestured between the two of them.
"Yeah. Me too."
Hermione had made a mistake. She'd made a rash decision which had turned out to be a dreadful mistake. She wasn't sure whether she wanted to cry or scream. Either one would be beneficial; anything to let out the anger she was feeling towards herself.
Storming down the halls of Hogwarts, the fury and desperation her presence brought with it was undeniable as she thundered past younger students, quivering at the sight of her expression. Her feelings for Draco had boiled into a fiery pit; a menagerie of emotions that were ready to explode. She speculated whether she was prepared to let go and release all reservations she had about Draco in order to fulfil her desires. The mere thought of such liberation excited her. She didn't know how long she had left… why should she hold onto anything?
She spotted his silver hair from the entrance of the Great Hall. It irked her. Her senses were so heightened with the seething emotion, the sight of his flaxen hair made her want to pull at it and scream. Hermione calmed herself. The aching and tightening of her stomach nagged at her as all she wanted to do was run. She was closer and his gesturing hands were everywhere as he talked animatedly to the Slytherins. She could hear the stentorian voice over all the tables: he'd had a few. As he turned to witness Blaise shove a whole chicken into his mouth, she caught his eye. She was stood ten foot away. He didn't even try to hide the rolling of his eyes as he rose to speak to Hermione.
"We need to talk." She tried to smile sweetly.
Draco learned forward to talk in her ear, but didn't trouble to lower his voice much. Hermione could smell the beer on his tongue and breath. "You made it pretty clear you didn't want to talk anymore last night."
She gulped, but maintained endurance. "You're drunk, Draco. Let's go outside."
He gasped, "How dare you I am not drunk I am as sober as anyone in this room!" His slur and terribly slack jaw told her otherwise. People were beginning to turn at the raucous. "If you wanna talk let's do it right now."
"I want to speak to you. Not here."
Draco sucked his teeth, grinning and stumbling out of the room. She was relieved, but it wasn't over. "Wanna humiliate me again?" He leant against the cold stone walls of the castle, his whole body feeling heavy. "How about I tell you I love you and then you can run away. That would be a right laugh yeah?"
Hermione folded her arms, "That's not what I want and you know it. I want to say I'm sorry. I was scared." She lingered. "Past tense."
51 hours earlier
"I don't understand. What are you saying?" She wasn't sure whether she actually was hearing this. She recognised the quivering of her jaw and fought to hold it. Taking his face in her hands, she stroked the taut skin over his cheekbone with her thumb and ignored the moisture underneath her fingers.
"Merlin," He cleared his throat and looked away. It felt like years were passing them by. He failed to notice the tears falling from her cheeks as he turned back. "I've fallen in love with you."
Her chin was trembling. She couldn't help but fight it. How could she go through with this? Thinking desperately of the consequences of a relationship with Malfoy was overwhelming. If anyone else became too attached, the impact of her demise would be devastating. She couldn't help care more about this than her quality of life before her death.
She grasped at the door of the broom cupboard, feeling relief as soon as a gash of light penetrated the dark atmosphere. Hermione turned back to Draco, he was now facing away from her. "I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice breaking. She slipped out the door and fled.
Present
"When I don't know how long I have to live if I hear someone tell me they love me, my first thought is not about the romance, it's about whether I'm prepared to destroy their life in the process. But, on reflection, I know that was stupid. I should live a little."
He had sobered up and his jaw was flexing violently. "The window of opportunity has gone." He said bitterly. "It doesn't matter anymore. Now, if you excuse me, Theo owes me a butterbeer." He had already closed up. She was astonished it had happened so quickly, but she had preempted this. Having known his predisposition to taciturn behaviour, she had realised he would probably shut off again after obtaining disagreeable results in opening up to her. Yet, something had to give.
"Draco, please." Her hand took a hold of his. The corridor was dark and no one appeared to be around. Throwing her head back, she let all her hair fall onto one side of her neck, so the other was exposed and inviting. The boy looked back at her, his eyes resting on her bare skin; her mouth parted slightly. "Draco, we don't need to fight." She saw him physically gulp, arousing satisfaction to course through her. The mere use of his first name, tumbling from her lips in dulcet tones, was enough to make him squirm. He closed his eyes briefly, before pulling his hand and himself away from her, striding defiantly back into the Hall. She sighed. She had somewhat known it would take more, but she was game.
"Get me that beer, Nott." Draco sat down, breathing heavily and gulping down the drink that was shortly tossed to him.
He felt crushingly conflicted. There was no way he could let her back in after such humiliating rejection. His thoughts were interrupted by an all too familiar voice. "Malfoy, we need to talk."
"Merlin, I have heard those words uttered to me way too many times at this table today."
Harry frowned. "It's about… our agreement. You know—"
Draco nodded to his friends before once again, rising from the bench and pulling Harry away. "I know. I'm aware. I've been working on it, but it's taking longer than I expected."
"Malfoy, we really don't have the time. Please, try and have them ready soon."
"Fucking hell. I'll have it done by tomorrow evening. Is that alright?" He spat at Harry with icy eyes.
Potter didn't answer, but instead nodded curtly and twisted round to walk away. Draco could finally finish his supper.
"Miss. Granger! I was so pleased to get your message. Do come in." The therapy room was cosy. It was embracing, with an array of books and an array of seating options opposite Dr. Meadows. There were paintings on the walls; rugs on the floor; ambient lighting to create a welcoming atmosphere. It said, 'come in here, you can tell me anything', which, really, was the objective. There was something about exposed stone brick which made her feel snug. Multiple dancing lights, emitted from the group of newly lit candles on the coffee table caught her eye and she was momentarily mesmerised. Meadows took a smoke from her cigar, waiting for her visitor to sit down as a grandfather clock at the back of the room ticked relentlessly.
Collecting herself, Hermione scrubbed at her face. "Thank you."
"What can I do for you? The last time we spoke, we left on good terms. You left with the intention of letting Mister Malfoy know your feelings, is that right?" Meadows was facing Hermione with an intense, fixed stare.
Hermione nodded, settling into the sofa and letting herself sink into it like a warm hug. "There's been a slight change of plan. I know that's what we planned to do and what we had talked about, but when I spoke to him... I just-he closed up again, and I know we knew that would happen, but I truly believe that telling him my feelings is not enough. He probably won't believe me. I mean, it's not like he trusts me anymore, so..." She let herself trail off, waiting for a response from Meadows.
The doctor continued to stare back, and Hermione wondered if she was ever going to reply. "I will be straight with you, Hermione. Never underestimate the power of just... telling someone how you feel. You have to have a little faith or else how can you expect him to settle? Whatever you're planning on doing, there will be a fallout, and you won't like it."
"I've been going through these last few months in fear of what I know what's going to happen. That's not how I want to spend my remaining time. I want to live, and if engaging in a little game is what it takes, then I'm willing to play."