A Hundred Storms
Chapter Seventeen: Don't Forget Me
There are some in this world who have strength on their own
Never broken or in need of repair
But there are some born to shine who can't do it alone
So protect them and take special care, take care.
-Don't Forget Me, by Smash Cast
Hermione and Draco rushed through the stone corridors until they were halfway up a staircase that decided to start moving before they could reach the top.
"Damn it!" Draco spat angrily.
"How could we be so stupid?" Hermione panted, doubled over with her hands resting on her knees. "The Room of Requirement! It's the first place we should have checked as soon as we realized something was amiss! It's so obvious!"
Hermione continued to rant while Draco remained silent. He remembered the hours, the months he spent holed up in that room, all the time spent that eventually led to the death of Albus Dumbledore. Whatever happened to the pair of cabinets he slaved over to repair? Did one still remain in Knockturn Alley? Was an intruder truly in Hogwarts, and was it once again his fault? More importantly, would the cabinet be traced back to him? Would Hermione suspect him? Blame him for the troubles that had been plaguing her since the term began? He did it once; it would not be hard for anyone to believe Draco Malfoy would once again betray Hogwarts.
It was like his past would not die, wouldn't stay where it belonged.
By this time Hermione has stopped her tirade and was looking at Draco cautiously.
"What is it?" she demanded.
Draco could only shake his head. The magnitude of what his past actions had nearly cost him was hard to reflect upon, let alone the thought that they might come bubbling back up to the surface after he had buried them. He couldn't tell her that he was afraid of what they would find in the room. He couldn't stand her looking at him again the way she used to. Wariness. Fear. Hurt. Disdain. Draco realized then that he didn't want to go back to the way things used to be. Too much had happened and he had lost too much for that to be possible now.
The staircase then connected with its destination, and without another word they continued on their way. When they finally reached the final staircase that would take them to the seventh floor Draco couldn't help but wish this staircase would move, too. Preferably back to their dormitory.
Fate was not on Draco's side. The stairway stayed perfectly still, and the two kept their hurried pace past the stone pillars and candles burning brightly in their sconces, the décor that had become all too familiar to Draco during his sixth year at Hogwarts.
They both slowed simultaneously as they grew closer to the general area where the door to the Room of Requirement lay hidden from the uneducated eye. Draco noticed Hermione had her hand already around her wand, almost casually. The defensive set to her body was obviously a familiar one. It was painfully obvious that Hermione was completely at home when it came down to defending herself. Draco wondered idly who would win in a duel, himself or her.
"Think about discovering what's causing the Maliceptor," Hermione commanded. "Even if no one is inside maybe the room can give us a clue as to where to look next."
"You're expecting a fight," Draco observed, looking pointedly at her wand.
"I'm expecting trouble," Hermione retorted. "It is foolish not to."
Hermione looked at Draco and then looked away. She couldn't help but remember that this room led to the catalyst of a series of events that changed her forever, and here she was standing beside the boy, the man that made it all happen.
"Look at me," Draco said quietly.
He towered over her, but Hermione looked up and met his gaze dead on.
"What is it, Malfoy?" she asked.
"I told you not to be obtuse," he said steadily. "I know what you're thinking about."
"Enlighten me, then," Hermione shot back, not breaking their gaze.
"I know what I did here," Draco stated simply. "I don't need your guilt trip."
"How can I not remember?" Hermione asked him fairly. "It's like asking me not to remember Dumbledore's Army or all the students that turned this room into their refuge under the Carrows. Don't be so self-involved, Malfoy, this room holds a thousand years of memories and not all of them pertain to you."
Draco assessed her words without breaking the gaze. Finally he nodded and turned towards the empty stone wall.
"Now what?" he asked.
"Think about what you want the most," Hermione replied. "I want to understand what is happening, and so that is what I am thinking about. Is this person a Death Eater? A Death Eater sympathizer? A student? This room might be able to give us some sort of clue."
Draco stared at the wall alongside Hermione, and when the plain, unadorned door appeared he drew in a breath and went in first.
"I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, I imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families.
No one asked your opinion, you filthy Mudblood!
Granger, they're after Muggles, d'you want to be showing your knickers off in midair?
I got the idea of poisoning the mead from the Mudblood Granger...you care about me saying Mudblood when I'm about to kill you?
The room was almost exactly as they left it.
It's that Mudblood! Avada Kadvra!
C-Crabbe...C-Crabbe...
Draco was staring at the contents of the room. Contents would be generous. The things left in the Room of Requirement were scorched, most beyond recognition. Draco took it all in and saw a burnt and forgotten cabinet at the base of a pile of other random oddities. He let out a breath he hadn't known he had been holding. The charred piece of wood looked like it would crumble to the touch, there was no way it was being used to secretly ferry enemies into Hogwarts.
Hermione followed Draco's gaze. "You thought it might have been the cabinet," she observed.
"I hoped it wasn't," Draco replied honestly.
"I did, too," Hermione said simply.
Draco tore his gaze away from the twisted piece of wood and looked at her. "You thought it was me?"
"I'm logical and pragmatic," Hermione replied easily. "But just because I knew there was a possibility doesn't mean I wasn't truly hoping the possibility was slight."
Draco wanted to be angry. He wanted to be so furious that he could just deal with his Muggle-born problem and be done with it. Unfortunately, the anger never came. What came was hurt and disappointment and acceptance.
"I understand," he finally said.
Hermione never took her eyes off him. "You really do, don't you?" she asked, almost in wonder. "I'm sorry I didn't have more faith in you, Malfoy."
Draco didn't say anything, just took in the scene of destruction that the Room of Requirement had to offer them.
Hermione's eyes wandered about the room. The last standoff of her class of Gryffindors and Slytherins flashed through her mind. It was such a small part of her whole year, Hermione thought. It was just as things were truly coming to a head; she hadn't really stopped and thought about the events in this room in their entirety, what it meant to the classmate she lost, what it meant to the classmates that were left behind.
"I didn't like Crabbe," Hermione said shortly. "But then again, I can't say I liked you. He was an idiot, using Fiendfyre in such a closed space, but he believed in what he did, however wrong it was. I'm not going to pretend his death was justified, or brave, or remarkable. It wasn't. But he was loved, he had family and friends who cared for him. He was a person and he's gone now. That's worth something no matter what side he was on. That's worth remembering and worth mourning. There's nothing wrong with that. What's also worth remembering is that you're still alive and in a position of power. Not everyone has that."
Hermione looked up at Draco and waited for a response. He didn't seem to be listening. She searched his profile for some sort of acknowledgement, but it looked like Draco had left his body, a shell was all she saw.
Draco remembered the night Albus Dumbledore died. He remembered when he finally fixed the Vanishing Cabinet, when he was finally able to send living, breathing organisms through from Hogwarts to Knockturn Alley, and vice-versa. He remembered the steady stream of loyal Death Eaters cascading out of the Cabinet and his race to the Astronomy Tower.
He remembered Dumbledore's words.
Draco, years ago, I knew a boy, who made all the wrong choices. Please, let me help you.
I don't need your help! I have to do this! I have to kill you...or he's gonna kill me!
"I made all the wrong choices," Draco said to no one in particular.
"You made a few right ones," Hermione said softly.
"What right ones?" Draco demanded. "What the hell did I do that was right? Nothing. My family is tainted, my name is trash. What the hell do you know, Granger?"
"What do you know, Malfoy?" Hermione countered. "Family names can be rebuilt. Reputations can be restored. Life goes on for us but it doesn't go on for them. We need to be the ones to go on for them. We're the only ones left."
Draco looked around at the burned room, empty of any life except for himself and the Muggleborn in front of him.
"What do you want from me?" he finally asked.
"I don't know," Hermione replied quietly.
He looked at her, and to her surprise she extended her hand to him. To both of their surprise, he took it.