She seemed casual about it now in the warmth of the coffee shop, hands curled around her mug of hot chocolate. She had seemed casual about it then too; as though breaking into Voldemort's stronghold to murder the Five was normal. As though it was just as normal to stop on her way out to chat to one of the Dark Lord's inner circle.
Draco stretched his spine. "Did you make a habit of letting Death Eaters walk away from you?"
Bones smiled. "I thought it was that I couldn't kill someone who'd been at Hogwarts with me. Someone who'd been in my year," she explained before tilting her head to the side, her brow creasing. She took a breath, "That was before I killed Zabini obviously. I don't know. What do you want me to say? That deep, deep down I knew you were on our side? Well, I didn't. I had no idea. I thought you'd tell You-Know-Who I was an Auror at once. I waited all night for you to come after me."
Trying not to wince, Draco said softly, "I didn't mean to scare you."
Bones gave him an indifferent look. "I wasn't scared," she said and it worried Draco how empty her voice was. Shrugging her shoulders, she dropped her marshmallows into her hot chocolate. "I don't get scared anymore." Draco knew better than to think she was putting on a front. Bones was not the sort to pretend to be braver than she was.
He sat back in his seat and thought about the past few years. He couldn't remember a time when he hadn't been scared of something. The Forbidden Forest for a long time, and then the idea of his parents dying. Now there were the other Slytherins to be afraid for; and he feared the remaining Death Eaters taking vengeance. Sometimes he still woke from nightmares and walked to his parents' room to check that they were alright before remembering that they weren't. "It must…" he paused, unsure of how to proceed. "It must be hard. Not feeling fear."
"I miss it," said Bones, not sounding like it mattered.
It wasn't right. She was the Hufflepuff; she was meant to be teaching him how breathtaking life could be if he would just give it a chance. He wasn't meant to be trying to convince her.
She ran a hand through her hair and Draco watched her fingers snag in the tangles. "Cho Chang is single," she said eventually.
"So is Adrian Pucey." It only occurred to him after he spoke that Bones had never been the sort to engage in idle gossip.
She was looking puzzled by his comment when he cast her a confused frown though. He had the feeling he'd missed something.
Then her face shuttered off. Draco ran his gaze over her quickly, taking in the narrowed eyes and raised chin. She had finished her drink and he didn't push to stay longer afterwards.
They pulled their cloaks on and walked together down the quiet street. It was snowing again lightly. Draco looked across at Bones; her face was softer when she was concentrating on tucking her scarf around her neck. He was going to ask her out again and she was going to say no. He could tell by the slope of her shoulders. They weren't at ease the way they'd always been before when he was sure of her. When he was sure of her wanting to be with him at least. They were slightly taut, like those of a cat getting ready to run.
But he'd ask her. And then she'd say no.
"Bones," he said pulling up.
She turned and raised her eyebrows, not looking exceptionally interested. Draco paused and dug his hands into his pockets. So this would be the last he saw of her. Flushed, with snow-flakes clinging to her hair and her eyes less Avada Kedavra green than ever. He wished she'd killed him at Wicksworth. At least then she'd looked alive.
"Care to have coffee again?" he asked and was dismayed to find that his voice suddenly didn't sound like his. Christ, he sounded like his father.
She didn't bother smiling to soften her words, shaking her head instead. "Better if we don't," she said, turning away.
Draco let her go; watched her stride away, hands tucked into her pockets, closed off to the world.
Then he turned and, with the least movement possible, he smashed his fist into a Muggle car four times, fast. He would have kept going. He felt no desire in the world to stop, but as his fist was about to connect for the fifth time there was the sharp cracking sound of Apparition and a hand grabbed his shoulder, jerking him around. His shoulder hit the car, and he found himself staring at Bones.
"Really," she said, her voice cold but utterly without emotion.
Draco reached for her instinctively, fingers curling in his gloves as he moved. Before he touched her she jolted backwards, bristling like an irate cat, eyes narrowed and furious.
Letting himself slump back against the car, Draco struggled to pull himself together. The struggle was brief; and he lost. "Fuck," he snapped, slamming the side of his fist back into the car. "Just fucking leave. You don't want to be here; fucking go!"
A shadow passed across her gaze and for a moment he thought she was going to hit him. Not out of anger, but to slap some sense into him. Instead she caught his shoulder with one hand and pulled, fingers digging in to him painfully even through the thick layer of winter cloak.
She didn't say anything, but her motivation was clear. The misdirection and concealment charms built into most wizarding cloaks against Muggles would only do so much; and generally covering a wizard attacking a Muggle vehicle would be beyond its limits to conceal.
She turned him up the street and they walked in silence. Bones unwrapped her scarf from her neck and passed it to Draco, presumably to wrap his hand with. He hadn't noticed it was bleeding. The distance needed for the misdirection charms to be able to reassert themselves had probably been covered but if Draco mentioned that Bones would probably leave. Before long they turned into a narrow alley and walked the length of it, then turned into another alley from there.
Finally Bones started laughing. She stopped and leant against the grimy wall and covered her face with her hands and laughed. The laughter was hollow and haunted and hysterical, seeming to echo in on itself. She sank to sit by the wall finally, her laughter dying to a silence that was even more frightening. She had a smear of blood on her face. Draco's blood.
He'd been told that she was going mad. He hadn't believed it. It was Bones. Susan Bones, no less. Susan Bones who, after the war, had received all of forty-nine medals. Forty-nine. She beat Mad-Eye Moody thrice over.
He was believing it now. "Let's get you a drink."
"Only Christmas and birthdays," she replied, muffled with her hands still over her face.
"You need one," Draco pointed out. He wasn't used to being gentle, but he was trying for her.
"If I had a drink every time I needed one, Malfoy…" Bones began sharply and then let out a sob. "I should have died in the war," she said finally, her voice soft and wistful. "Some people are made for war."
"That's not your problem," said Draco reaching for her wrists and pulling her to her feet. "I'm going to Apparate you to my place," he said softly, closing his arms around her.
"I don't like your place," she protested.
He smirked down at her and was surprised that it made her relax. "Yes, I know," he said. "It looks like dead people live there. It should suit you fine."
And Bones actually laughed, a real laugh, before Draco Apparated them away.