A Hundred Storms
Chapter Eight: Turning Tables
Close enough to start a war
All that I have is on the floor
God only knows what we're fighting for
All that I say, you always say more
-Turning Tables, by Adele
"Your blood," he said, his gray eyes still locked on hers. "Your blood changed everything."
Hermione shivered and finally managed to tear her eyes away from his. She looked down at the book in her lap then back up, fixing her gaze on his mouth to avoid his eyes and regretting that decision immediately. His lips were full and perfectly symmetrical, currently pressed into a firm line. For a moment, so brief Hermione didn't realize it until it was gone, she was more fixated on his lips than she had ever been on anything she could remember in recent history.
It was somewhere in that moment that Draco Malfoy became something more than a factor in Hermione's life that must simply be endured. He wedged himself into an ill-fitting piece of her being that she didn't even know existed yet,
She collected herself. "What are you referring to?" she asked, already knowing the answer.
"Don't play stupid," Draco replied in a voice that was much harsher than it was a minute ago. "It doesn't become you. You know exactly what I'm talking about."
"Bellatrix," Hermione whispered, her hand absentmindedly tracing the scar on her forearm.
Draco sighed and nodded. "There was so much blood. Red blood. Not brown. I wanted to see brown blood. I wanted to see confirmation that everything I thought to be true was, the proof that I did not just gamble the rest of my life because my father had told me so. But the blood...the blood was red. Brighter and more red than even your Gryffindor colors.. Redder than anything I had ever seen before and nothing I wanted to see ever again. And then-" Draco exhaled and inhaled deeply, dropping his gaze before bringing it back to her.
"Then you looked at me. You looked at me, screaming about that bloody sword that wasn't even real. You looked at me and all I saw was an eleven-year-old girl with massive hair and horrified eyes, and then she screamed. I didn't even know where I was anymore. I didn't know who I was anymore."
The silence following Draco's soliloquy was deafening. Hermione could feel it pressing into her chest like she was being suffocated by an unseen source. For a moment she thought it was the poltergeist, but then she realized it was because she had been holding her breath..
And so she did. In and out, steady breaths filled her lungs until she saw small splotches of color behind her eyes while the oxygen restored her vision. She dimly remembered that now would be the appropriate time to speak, but words failed. Breath failed. Thought failed.
"I saw you, too," she finally said in a whisper. Their eyes locked again, and she felt like she was staring into the eyes of the basilisk, petrified and immobile. "You were there. I saw you, but nothing registered."
Silence fell again. She wondered if he was even breathing now. She couldn't see the rise in his chest, and she thought maybe he was hoping to pass out before having to say another word to her.
"The sword was real," she added, her heart quickening at memory.. "That's why I had to make her believe it was a fake. We needed it to destroy the last of the Horcruxes."
Disbelief flickered across his face. "You lied," Draco said in a monotone. "Under Crucio?"
Hermione nodded and bit her lip. She tasted blood. "I had to."
"You can't lie under Crucio," he said in the same flat voice. "That's why it's called torture."
"When you have no other option, you lie," Hermione said, feeling her own voice grow lower, a slight vibration in her chest that she wasn't really registering. "When a lie is all that stands between winning and losing, life and death, you damn well better lie."
"Bellatrix believed you. Then the goblin confirmed it." Draco sounded like he was reading from a particularly boring encyclopedia. Any emotion he might have had in his voice was long gone.
"You didn't want to turn us in." Hermione steered the subject away from her time under Bellatrix. "You knew, but you hesitated."
Draco said nothing, so Hermione continued.
"Do you know why I testified for you?" she asked cautiously. "Because of that day in your home. Ron didn't understand, of course. He wasn't there. You grounded me. If I had been alone with Bellatrix I would have broken in no time at all, but I just kept thinking that if you could watch, then I could hold on. One way or another it would be over soon."
Silence again. Hermione wondered if she had lost him. She wondered how this conversation had even begun. She wondered if she should leave. She wondered if she should run.
She got up to leave, but he shot up out of his chair like a speeding broom and was suddenly inches away from her face, towering over her and blocking any chance of escape.
"I hate you," he hissed under his breath.
"No, you don't," Hermione said, the realization just then dawning on her as well. "You desperately want to, don't you? But you don't, and that's what you hate. You hate the fact that you can't hate me anymore."
"What the hell do you know?" he demanded angrily. "You don't know a damn thing about me."
Hermione was still reeling and wondering if she had some sort of mental whiplash. Something just snapped between them, broken and irrevocably changed and maybe for the better or maybe for the much worse, but the change was undeniable.
"If you hated me, you wouldn't be standing here," Hermione said. "You would have finished your despairing comments and then went to your room. What are you doing here, Malfoy? What do you have to gain by telling me about my dirty blood?"
"Stop that!" Draco said loudly and turned away. "Stop saying that! How can I even entertain the thought of dirty blood when all I hear at night are your screams? How can I think you're anything less than human when all I see when I close my eyes at night is your blood spilled all over the floor? Tell me, Granger, tell me exactly how I have not changed."
He turned. Her eyes followed him. A draft went through the common room, and she felt the tears on her cheeks. She hadn't even realized she was crying. When had her world tilted upside-down again?
"Malfoy-" She reached out and grabbed his arm. His muscles stiffened under her touch as though he had expected physical pain.
"We're broken, aren't we?" she asked him softly. "Beyond repair."
Something unrecognizable flashed across his face and it was gone. His arm relaxed. She dropped her grip on him and took a step away.
"We've been broken for a long time, Granger," he said quietly. "But we've only just begun to bleed."
Before Hermione could ask what he meant, the creaking common room door announced the arrival of Nevile who was smiling until he saw Draco and Hermione standing just inches from one another.
"Hermione?" Neville quickened his pace to the two of them. "What's going on here?"
"Nothing, Neville," Hermione said quickly. "We were having a debate."
"Hell you are, why are you crying?" He turned on Draco. "What did you do to her?"
"Sod off, Longbottom," Draco said and turned away.
"Right, that's not going to happen." Neville grabbed for Draco's arm, but the blond-haired boy pushed him away roughly, causing Neville to stumble backward.
"Stop, stop!" Hermione grabbed Neville's sleeve and pulled him back. "Really, Neville, we're just reliving some old memories. It's nothing. Forget about it."
"I'm telling Harry and Ron." Neville turned to Hermione. "If he's bothering you, it's bound to be against his probation. We can get rid of him easily, Hermione."
Hermione felt something snap inside her. "Neville, if you dare go tattling on me to those two I will never forgive you. I am an adult and can take care of myself. They are not my parents, and you are not my guardian."
Neville looked taken aback. "I'm your friend, Hermione, I don't want to see you getting bullied by this scum."
Hermione fixed him with her best glare. "Neville, I am going to go to bed. You are going to forget this. I'm telling you it was nothing. Do you believe me?"
"No," Neville said flatly. "I don't."
"Just move along, Longbottom," Draco interjected. "This is none of your bloody business."
Neville looked a moment away from hitting the other man, so Hermione yanked on his sleeve again.
"I promise you everything is okay," Hermione told him softly. "This is what healing looks like, all right?"
Neville's eyes widened slightly then narrowed in suspicion. "What's really going on, Hermione?" he demanded.
"It truly isn't any of your business, Neville, please," Hermione begged him quietly. "Let's all just go to bed. It's been a long day."
Neville looked like she had struck him but didn't say another word. She released her hold on him, and he exited the common room into his own quarters.
"Tosser," Draco mumbled as soon as the door closed.
"I meant it," Hermione said tiredly. "Let's just go to bed."
"We aren't done here," Draco growled. "You don't give me orders."
Hermione threw up her hands. "Fine! Stay out here! I'm going to sleep."
Draco closed the distance between them again with a few sudden steps. "I said I wasn't finished," he said lowly.
"And you," Hermione said evenly, "are not to give me orders either. If you want to continue this, we can. Just not tonight, all right?"
Draco looked like he was going to argue, but something in the look he received from Hermione made him stop.
"Fine," he said. "But this isn't over."
"Is it ever?" Hermione asked with a sad note to her voice. "Is it ever over?"
With that she stepped around Draco and made her way to her bedroom, locking the door behind her with a soft click. It echoed like a gunshot in her quiet room.