A/N: Hey, peoples! I apologize profusely for the super, super, super long wait. I had the tests, homework, softball, and I was sick for, like a week. I cannot believe how long it took me to write this chapter! Please, please, please forgive me! Anyway, read on and review!
Chapter 11
Pansy knocked on the door. I didn't hear an answer, but it seems she did. Or she didn't wait for an answer.
Either way, I looked into the room for the second time that day. It was different from before; it was messy now. One of the curtains had fallen - or maybe yanked down - and the blanket on the bed was wrinkled and bunched up at the bottom. The chair was on the ground, laying in a way that showed it must have been kicked, and even more little stuff littered the floor.
And right in the middle of the bed was a blonde haired boy - well, man now, I guess, though by the way he looked, it was very much reminding of a young boy - that was sitting against the wall, his hair out of place. He had a blank look on his face, looking straight ahead at nothing, really.
Pansy strode over to the other side of the room, where the bed was, and sat down. Draco instantly moved over for her, leaning on the headboard. The whole time, his eyes stayed on the opposite wall. Pansy gently nudged him and muttered his name. He didn't respond. So she sat back for a few moments. When he still didn't do anything, she stood up and I started to open my mouth to protest. I thought she was leaving, and I wouldn't give up so easily.
But instead she bent down and picked up one of the many pillows on the floor, and walked back over to the bed.
"Draco," she said, snapping her fingers in front of his face. He finally looked up at her, but when he saw that it was only Pansy, he leaned back and his eyes became unfocused again.
Pansy threw her arms up and huffed. She finally lifted the pillow and hit Draco on the head with it. At first, Draco was confused, but he quickly understood what was happening when Pansy hit Draco again - and again - and again.
Draco put his arms up to protect his face, and he leaned away from Pansy. "Okay, okay, stop it, Pansy!" he exclaimed, speaking for the first time since he had stormed up the stairs. He glared at the raven haired girl.
"Well, what else was I supposed to do? You wouldn't do anything," Pansy stated.
"So you resort to violence?" Draco asked, still looking mad.
She nodded promptly. "Of course. That's what you would do." She shrugged her shoulders.
So did Draco. He leaned back against the wall again. "Why are you here?" he asked Pansy.
"She made me come. And now, I see why we had to." Draco snapped his gaze up from his floor to meet my eyes. I was still standing right inside the closed door. His eyes widened for a moment, like he didn't know I was here, but almost immediately narrowed again.
I raised my eyebrows. "Well... listen to her," I gestured to Pansy.
He sighed and turned back to Pansy. "That doesn't answer my question completely." He looked expectantly at Pansy, and glanced towards me.
Pansy rolled her eyes. "Right. Well, of course Potter and female Weasley wouldn't do anything; they barely know you. Marriett doesn't know what's going on, and Theo doesn't know much more. Blaise would just joke around with you," she rolled her eyes again, "because that is what most men do. No offense, but men aren't good with emotional stuff. So... we came." There was a moment of silence. Then Draco spoke:
"Why is she here?" He nodded his chin towards me.
I spoke before Pansy could. "Actually, I made her come, like she said. You aren't just going to mope up here all day. You needed a confrontation, and we are here to give it to you." I shrugged.
He sighed and looked at the ceiling. The room hung with silence like windows did with curtains. Draco was the one to break the silence.
"Okay. I'm waiting for the confrontation."
I sighed. He was still arrogant.
Pansy spoke immediately.
"Okay, then. Draco, the reasoning behind you staying here is stupid and an obvious lie. You know for a fact that your mother is okay; she is a strong witch. So that is out. Why do you care that your father was thrown in Azkaban? You despised him since sixth year. You couldn't care less if he was dead. You know what happened to my father. He died at Hogwarts during the battle. You know that. I'm not walking around and moping, being miserable. I loved my father more than you ever did yours, so why aren't I acting like you? I don't know. But you sure as bloody hell do. And we want to know that reasoning. Because we are your friends, no matter how hard you push us away. You've been getting better, but slowly. At the rate you're going, you won't be the same for the next four years. So tell us and can try to help you. What in Merlin's beard is wrong with you?" Pansy finished her rant panting, and I'm not surprised. Her voice rose then sunk, repeating the action many times over. Pansy's voice started with annoyance, then turned to anger, then desperation, and finally pleading.
I shifted in discomfort. I felt like I was intruding, and I'm not sure I was supposed to hear that. I didn't know about Pansy's father dying.
Draco seemed shocked by Pansy's outburst. His eyes were wide and he leaned into the wall. Pansy's breathing returned to normal, and she sat down on the bed from where she stood to speak. Draco finally seemed to get over his shock, as he relaxed and his eyes weren't the size of watermelon.
Draco sighed. "Okay," he said in a defeated voice. "Bring Blaise up here, and - and I'll tell you guys." His voice was scratchy, and Pansy stood.
"Okay. Thank you. Draco, really, we just want to be there for you. We can't be there for you when we don't even know your problem." With that, she left to find Blaise.
There was an uncomfortable silence that settled in the room for the first few moments. I shifted in my hard chair.
"Thank you," Draco said, though if he wasn't the only other person in the room, I wouldn't have believe it was he who said it, because it was said so quietly and softly. I stared at him for a moment before replying.
"For what?" I wasn't trying to be a jerk. No, I just didn't know why he thanked me; I don't believe I did anything that he needed to thank me for.
"For forcing Pansy to come up here. For trying to make me feel better. For caring." He shrugged as if it were no big deal, but I knew better. His voice was filled with gratitude.
I stood and walked the short distance, then sat where Pansy was before she left. "You're welcome. That is what you're supposed to do for your friends." I smiled at him, and he grinned back.
"But Blaise is my friend. You don't see him up here, attempting to console me. And actually succeeding." He smiled, genuinely smiled, and I stopped breathing for a moment. He was just so... well, breath taking whenever he smiled.
"Well, he's different. I know that already, even after only a few days with him. He cares about his friends, but I don't think he really understands what is happening with you and what you need," I replied, recovering from the lack of breath I had for a second.
Draco snorted. "And you do?" he asked, a bit of his old nastiness creeping into his voice. I sighed.
"Listen, I think I had it as bad as you with my parents. I had to erase their memory without their knowing and send them to Australia with no memory of me at all. I was worried pick that they found them for weeks after the war, and then I had to return their memories. If that isn't bad, I don't know what is." I stared at him with a look I can't quite describe on my face - but Malfoy had a look of surprise on his face, and he opened his mouth as if he was about to say something. But I cut him off, sitting up straight and taking my back away from the wall it was leaning on. I leaned forward, then turned face to look at him. "And don't say, 'I had no idea', because I don't want pity or anything. I was only telling you that to attempt to cut off your own feelings you have for yourself - pity. You cannot just sit here and wallow in self-pity your whole life when you don't even have it as bad as you think! There are people out there who have lost their parents, whether it was in a battle when the child was seventeen, or any other way when the child was two. So don't you even try to do what you're doing anymore. I don't know why you do it, and frankly, I don't think I want to know. No excuses, whatsoever!" I was standing by the end of my lecture, and I fixed my hard glare down at the blonde man while I shook. He had gotten me worked up after touching my sensitive spot.
What I said in the rant, about losing parents, was what made me feel like crying at that moment, because, really, it felt like I had lost mine for those few months. They didn't know I existed, and I didn't know that they were safe. I couldn't see them. They may as well have been dead for those long months.
That made me want to cry. And as Hermione Jean Granger - well, Zabini, now - I do what I want or speak my mind frequently.
So I cried. The salty tears flowed down my face like waterfalls, and I started shaking uncontrollably. My sobs racked my body and filled the room. I fell down onto the bed, curling up into a tight ball while I cried. When I was able to finally see through the blurry eyes that were full of tears, still, I saw Malfoy staring at me in shock. His face was full of multiple things: shock, surprise, helplessness...
I looked at him and said with great defiance and steadiness, "Go on. Go tell the world my weak spot! Make fun of me. I don't care. It's what you do." And I narrowed my eyes at him while the tears still flowed steadily down my lightly freckled face. The sobs that made the room loud continued on, louder than ever as I cried even harder.
"I would never," he whispered, shaking his head slowly, a horrified expression on his face. "I would never do that again. I still feel bad for when I did that to Potter in school. I... wouldn't." He shivered and shook his head, looking as distressed as I felt, and probably looked, too. "I wouldn't do that again. I wouldn't do that again." Again and again he repeated this, before I was forced to look up from my hands.
His face was pale, paler than usual. He had his knees held against his chest with his arms wrapped around them in such a way it seemed that they would never come apart. His worst part was his eyes, though. They had a deep haunted look in them, as if he was remembering something that was truly horrifying. I had no doubt he wasn't, what with the little past I knew about him.
He, after a bit, dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. And then he pulled them away. And then he put them back. But this time, he kept them there.
I reached forward and tried to pull his hands apart, trying to loosen him up, all the while still crying, though silently this time. His hands refused to come apart, and he kept repeating the sentence, "I wouldn't do that again," though it was muffled by the wrists that were positioned over his mouth, though not actually touching his pink lips.
I pulled his hands feebly, weakened by my tears and sobs. His hands were held to his face so firmly I believed that when he took his hands from his face, there would be red spots where his hands were fastened. But I still couldn't get his hands from his face, no matter how hard and long I pried. So eventually I gave up and copied his position, facing his on the bed. We stayed there like that, and I was crying the whole time.
Soon, I felt the bed shift and warm arms came around me, supporting me as if I were about to fall off of the bed. And I may have, for I felt myself creeping to the edge of the bed. But now I had these arms around my damp body, and I held onto them with my hands as if they were my life source.
I finally got the sobs and waterfalls of tears to stop, so I looked up into the blue-gray eyes that were staring at me. His eyes held great apologies that would have taken a century to describe with words. So I shook my head and said, "It's okay. It wasn't your fault, so don't be sorry. I don't like pity." And I let go of his arms, and then I scooched out of his embrace. "Thank you, though." I nodded.
"You're welcome," he replied, nodding back. There was a silence that was suspended for the next few minutes, but it was a comfortable silence, despite what the last five minutes - had it really only been five minutes? - held.
I leaned against the wall, exhausted from the tears that made my face still red and blotchy.
I was surprised Pansy and Blaise hadn't returned yet. They had been gone for nearly ten minutes, and I wasn't hearing any screaming or yelling downstairs, so I knew there wasn't any fighting that was holding them up.
I stopped the images in my head of what could have happened down in the kitchen that would have made Pansy and Blaise take forever when Draco spoke again.
"Why did you come so suddenly? I mean, after you found out that you were adopted?"
I sighed and looked into space. "I guess I was just curious. I wanted to see why I was adopted, and what it would be like to be a pureblood and live in a big manor. Besides, Blaise was never the one to tease me and make fun of me in school. He just stood by. And he seemed nice when he came to my house, along with Mum." I shrugged. "Why didn't I see you the first day I was here?"
"They knew what happened at school - obviously, Blaise was my best friend for the last four years of school, and I visited here almost every summer - so they thought it would be best for you to take things one step at a time. First your brother and mum, then the house, and then me. I was happy to oblige, but I wasn't happy with you coming here. Though this is technically more of your home than mine, because you were born here, and will own a bit of it when Sasha dies, I felt you were invading." He sighed and there was a moment of silence. "You know, I saw you in the library the first night. You were sitting on one of the armchairs, and you were engrossed in your reading." He smiled and stared past my shoulder, as if remembering. "You looked happy."
I shrugged. "I'm always happy when I read. It's like my stress reliever."
Draco smiled. "I know how you feel." He paused. "Can I trust you with a secret almost nobody knows?" I nodded, curious. "I am such a bookworm, I may be able to compete with you." I didn't have a chance to react before the door swung open, finally revealing Pansy and Blaise.
Blaise instantly walked over with a concerned look on his face. He sat down and got straight to the point. "What is wrong?"