Hermione sat motionless on the foot of her bed at the Leaky Cauldron the next morning. She was listening, not for anything in particular, but focusing her attentions on the sounds that creaked and croaked around her provided a way to avoid the sinking feeling from the hole in her chest where her heart used to be.
She listened to the steady dripping of the tap in the bathroom, the breeze rustling passed the window outside, the muffled grumbling of people in the vicinity, the footsteps outside her door, the light knocking-
"Granger, open the door."
She turned her eyes to the door and stared. She didn't move, or react in any way. She could hear a light tapping. Was that his foot on the floor? Was that his impatient finger on the door?
"Granger." His voice wasn't biting or annoyed like she would have expected. He seemed to be patiently waiting. "Open the door."
She slowly rose to her feet. She shouldn't open the door. She should ignore him, and let his impatience take hold and force him to leave. She should snap at him for even speaking to her last night. What the bloody hell is he playing at? Regardless, somehow she found herself at the door, her hand on the knob. He was still tapping, gently, barely audible.
"You're at the door, Granger. Just open it. I won't hurt you."
He was quiet, not pleading, but his tone suggested he definitely wanted her to open the door to him. She was staring at her hand on the knob. She tried to figure out if she felt nervous, angry, scared... anything. She didn't. All her natural instincts regarding Malfoy seemed to be nonexistent.
Her eyes flickered over the lock, and it clicked open. The tapping stopped. She slowly turned the knob, and opened the door enough for her to look into his stormy grey eyes through the crack. He'd stepped back a bit.
"Open it, Granger."
She kept her gaze on him, but didn't move. She thought she should demand what he wanted, or slam the door in his face, but she couldn't bring herself to do so. She opened the door fully to him now, and they both stood there in the doorway looking into one another's eyes.
He stepped forward. She did not react.
Her brain was lulled in his presence. She thought maybe he cast some kind of charm on her, but figured she'd been so numb for so long that maybe she just couldn't tell the difference anymore between complacency and a curse. She thought briefly he might kill her now, and she was surprised to note how welcome that thought was. She wondered how he might do it. He took another step forward, and stood just inches from her. Would he do it quickly, and give himself enough time to flee? Would he draw it out, make the mudblood suffer like he might have always wanted to back in their school days? Her eyes flicked up to his again in their closer proximity.
He raised his hand and placed it on her chest, right above her heart, and pushed lightly, forcing her to walk backwards so they were both in her room. With his other hand, he lazily gestured behind him and the door shut, the lock clicking back into place.
"Are you going to kill me?" She didn't know what made her ask that, she hadn't intended to. She thought going quietly would be fine. She wasn't even scared. She didn't care anymore. His hand dropped from her chest and he looked down at her.
"If I said yes?" he asked quietly, studying her response.
She watched him resolutely, trying to figure out if there was any hint of what he was thinking on his features. There wasn't, unsurprisingly. Then, she began to wonder how long had she been okay with the thought of death coming to claim her? How long had any fear or self preservation completely evaporated from her personality. She shrugged at him, eyes devoid of any actual emotion.
"I'm not going to kill you, Granger."
She sighed, slightly disappointed. He didn't miss the reaction, not that she tried at all to hide it from him. Mostly, she didn't care either way. Death would find her eventually.
"Okay." She said and walked over to her little table by the window and sat down. She stared at the worn wood surface of it. She could see Malfoy through her peripheral standing where she'd left him by the door. "Why were you so insistent I open the door, than?"
He finally walked over to her, and sat in the chair opposite. He crossed his legs, resting one ankle over his knee, and placed his hands, clasped, on his lap. She felt his eyes on her.
"I want to be near you."
She looked up at him, disbelief being the first emotion to cross her features in a long time. He smirked.
"How did you know I was here?" she replied, even though she knew she should interrogate him on what he just said instead.
"House elf." was his only response.
What did that mean? Did he have an elf seek her out, did one happen upon her and report to him? Or mention it in passing? But that would mean Malfoy was having conversations with house elves. Did he do that often? The questions swirled quickly from one thought to the next before she could speculate for any length of time about the possible answers.
"I see." No she didn't. "To what end?"
He turned his attention to the window, watching as the clouds were slowly pulled across the grey sky by the passing breeze. He took a long time to answer, and she thought he might not.
"Curiosity... since after Hogwarts. I've changed quite a bit, and... I heard what happened to you. I've been trying to find you ever since. Imagine my surprise when I was told you'd been hiding under everyone's nose, here."
She took a moment to process his words. Curiosity? Regarding her? He heard about her parents, and searched a year for her? What was the point? To tell her she finally got what she deserves and so did they? Her hands began to shake. He noticed. He reached for them, and she flinched away.
He stood, walked around the table and knelt beside her. She looked down at him. She should have been shocked. Malfoy kneeling by her side? That should be one for the record books. He took her hands in his, and placed a kiss on the backs of them both. She should be surprised, revolted, scared... but she didn't feel anything, except for maybe some intrigue, or bewilderment. His lips were soft and warm pressed on the cold of her hands. She noted the contact didn't seem to bother or disgust him in the slightest. How could he, a Pureblood aristocratic wizard, kneel unwaveringly by her, the hated mudblood and third of the Golden Trio, and willingly touch her tainted flesh? He looked to her eyes again.
"I don't know what I want, Granger. But all I've thought about is you for all this time. I want to protect you." He whispered. She stared at him. She should retreat from him, kick him out, and go on the run again. She should hide herself away, never to be found again.
"I feel nothing."
"I know."
"I do nothing."
"I know that, too."
"I will push you away.
"You can try."
She wondered at him, trying to figure out if he was trying to tease her, or lure her into some kind of false sense of security. Couldn't he tell she didn't care if she died right now? Any games he would try to play would get little to no results. He stroked over her fingers with his thumb. She thought his legs might be hurting, knelt in that awkward position.
"I don't need protection. I never leave this place."
He stood, pulling her up with him, and slowly wrapped his arms around her small frame, pulling her flush with his lithe form. Her arms remained limp at her side's, but her face was rested firmly against his chest, and she didn't bother trying to push him away. She inhaled slowly, his scent filled her nostrils and for the first time in so long, she felt a stirring in her stomach and she actually felt warm.
"Malfoy?"
"I won't let you push me away." he whispered, but Hermione didnt hear him.
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"Harry, you honestly don't need to keep coming here to check on me. I never leave here anyway."
Hermione was watching her friend as he busied himself, tidying around her room. He was muttering about how the staff neglected Hermione on purpose out of spite, and that she needn't fuss over anything, that he was there to help no matter what. She sighed to herself and moved to sit on the bed again, but he shooed her out of the way to fumble with the bedding.
"Harry." She said, so quietly, the rustling of the sheets completely drowned her out.
"Harry, stop."
He still couldn't hear her as he was cursing the quality of the scratchy comforter.
"Harry," she was beginning to get annoyed. She hadn't noticed Malfoy standing in the open doorway. Harry left it ajar when he rushed inside, furious at the state of her room.
"Potter." He called loudly, and Harry snapped up, spinning around to find the unwelcome source of the all too familiar voice.
"Malfoy," he hissed, straightening up and narrowing his eyes at the blond. "What, The, Fuck, Are, You, Doing, Here?" he demanded, lethally. Hermione noticed his hand was slowly inching toward the pocket that held his wand.
Malfoy was leaning on the framing of the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. His head was tilted to the side, and he was giving Harry a funny look through the wisps of hair falling in his face.
"You were bloody well ignoring Granger, fussing over her bedding. She asked you to stop."
"No she did not."
Hermione looked lazily between the two. Was this actually happening right now?
"Yes, I did, Harry. You're being annoying."
Harry looked to his friend, a hurt expression on his face. Hermione looked at the floor, wanting to avoid his eyes. Harry always seemed to make her feel guilty these days without trying very hard.
"I just, don't need you baby sitting me, Harry..." her voice trailed off. Harry pulled his lips into a thin line, and studied her a moment before turning to Malfoy again.
"Really? Because it seems to me there's an infestation coming in that needs handled."
Hermione sighed again. Harry was being so ridiculous for no reason. He knew, probably better than anyone, that Draco Malfoy was no more an evil deatheater than Luna Lovegood was. He knew Malfoy tried to keep their identities safe, he knew his hands were tied but he still stalled Voldemort finding them. Harry knew he did everything in the end to save his mother, and Harry should understand why above all else that should matter.
Yet, here he was, behaving like an absolute tosser at the unexpected appearance of the former Slytherin.
"Honestly, Potter, I grow tired of your pathetic insults. You're making entirely too much noise, and everyone staying in the surrounding area can hear you."
Malfoy uncrossed his arms, stood straight and put his hands in his trouser pockets. Hermione's eyes flickered over his appearance. He was wearing a muggle three piece suit. She would have gasped if she could bring herself to care much passed at least noticing.
"What are you playing at, Malfoy?"
"Harry, that's enough." Hermione moved to stand directly in front of her friend, blocking Malfoy from his line of sight. He raised his brows high into his hairline. "I'd like for you to leave." She knew he wouldn't refuse. When she got this tone with him, and said those words, he knew she was on the verge of having a burst of emotions in the form of an anxiety attack. He faced her for a moment, and snapped his mouth shut. He took several deep breaths.
"Hermione, I can't just leave while he-"
"He told me he won't kill me."
She heard Malfoy sniff out a soft laugh, and Harry sputtered in shock.
"Harry, just go." her voice was beginning to tremble, and try as she might to hold it together, she felt her walls caving in on themselves. Thankfully, Harry nodded and swept passed her. Malfoy stepped back into the hallway, eyes on a distant part of the floor boards. Harry paused next to the other man, not even looking at him, and hissed, "Lay one finger on her, and I rip your bowels through your goddamn mouth, Malfoy. Don't fucking go near her." Malfoy didn't react, or try to say anything. Only smirked, and gave a half nod. Harry took one more glance back at Hermione.
"I'll come back in a couple days. I've got to go meet with the French Minister, and won't be back til the weekend."
Hermione nodded, and Harry left, rather reluctantly.
She looked up at Malfoy. He was tapping the door frame, quietly assessing her demeanor. She didnt realize that now she was physically shaking, and could suddenly feel the panic rising in her chest. Her throat felt dried, and she couldn't stop the dizzying feeling of the world shifting sideways. She watched from what felt like miles away as Malfoy stepped into her room, shut the door and stood before her.
"Granger, focus on my voice."
Her head was thumping, her heart beat sounded like it was in her ears. She tried to speak to him, but felt her throat constrict. She began taking gasping breaths, and clutched at her neck and chest. She collapsed to her knees on the floor before him. She was vaguely aware that he had joined her, kneeling down and taking her shoulders firmly in his hands.
"Granger, my voice. Find it and hang on to it." He was calm and quiet, but firm.
Hermione fought desperately within her mind to seek him out. She looked up, gasping, tears prickling at her eyes. Her hands flew out and gripped his arms.
"I am right here, and I will stay as long as you need me to."
She was trying with all her being to focus on his words. He kept speaking in those quiet and soothing tones. She was half certain this could not be Malfoy, but an imposter. Perhaps he would kill her, after revealing his disguise and true identity.
"Hold on to my voice and come back from wherever you're trying to drift off to, Granger."
She felt her magic sizzle beneath her skin, trickling along her arms, to her fingertips, and seemingly reaching out to him. She felt her breathing calm, and her chest stopped hammering so much. He didn't back away from her, but she knew he could feel her magic tracing along his forearms, seeking him out, pulling him closer. Her sense of security and comfort had been shattered, and he was offering a way to mend it.
"Malfoy," she breathed, her voice barely more than a whimper. He moved his hands from her shoulders, and slid along her arms until he could take her hands into his. "Thank you."
He nodded and pulled her up to her feet again. She wobbled slightly, but he easily slipped his arms around her waist the same way he'd done the first time he entered her room. She stood limply in his embrace, eyes shut and focused on controlling her breathing.
Having been devoid of feeling, to suddenly experience an onslaught of it was exhausting, and also made her feel quite queasy. She could feel his strong arms wrapped around her, and as much as she knew she should jump away from him, push him aside and flee, she instead allowed the warmth to wash over her. She allowed herself to rest her head against his chest, and didn't try to convince herself that he was unsafe and unpredictable. She didn't care, because right now in this moment, it was the first bit of peace she'd had in over a year.
End Chapter 2