Hermione wasn't talking to him or acknowledging him and frankly, he couldn't blame her in the slightest. Hell, he wouldn't talk to himself either if he had the mercy of choice. He would have loved to escape his own body and the trauma that sought to terrorize his mind in the hours after Hermione had left him.
For a fleeting moment he'd felt free. She had heard what he had to say, knew what he had wanted to tell her. But then she had gone, leaving him numb and his sense of freedom had dematerialized into void.
Soon, the hole inside him had returned, stealing the life away from him one breath at a time. Everything seemed so meaningless. The weight of what he had done came crashing down upon him harder than he would have ever expected. He finally realized that there were truly things that he couldn't reverse: deep wounds that he couldn't heal, biting words that he couldn't take back, and broken hearts that he couldn't piece together again.
As he had watched her go, he sat trying desperately to pull her back in with his eyes. "It's too late," she'd said. He had known this, and yet, as the words left her mouth in confirmation, it still stole the air from his lungs. Complete and utter rejection crashed down on him.
He spent as little time as possible away from his room. He didn't feel much like talking, so Daphne had completely free range over conversation at lunchtime as, day after day, he distracted himself by pushing food around on his plate. He threw himself into his work and tried to concentrate as dark thoughts raged in his mind. This wasn't his first experience with rejection, but it was, decidedly, his worst.
On a particularly bad day, Draco was sitting, eyes closed with his back up against a tree, having taken refuge from the castle's suppressive walls in his secluded spot by the lake, when he heard someone come up from behind him. A glance over his shoulder revealed Daphne, who was trudging resolutely through the trees towards him. Without looking at him or making any comment to acknowledge his presence, she gingerly sat down beside him. Lacking the capacity to fully appreciate her company, he turned his attention back to the lake.
"Very nice, this," she said, looking about at the view. He said nothing. "Not intruding am I?" Though he debated this, he eventually shook his head. She looked at him, eyes narrowed as if giving him an inspection, and puzzled. After a few moments she inquired, "Girl troubles?"
His heart skipped a beat and he shot a worried glance in her direction. "How'd you know?"
She smirked. "I didn't. I just made an educated guess and I happened to be right. My second guess would have been daddy issues, if it makes you feel any better." Strangely, it didn't. He grunted and looked away again. Then, in a thoroughly loathsome display of dramatic flair and obvious feigned innocence, she gasped, "Don't tell me, it's not Granger?"
How, for the love of sweet Salazar, did she know that?
"Look," he said curtly. "If you're here to judge me, you can just leave." Then, reconsidering this and shifting as if to get up, he offered, "Or if you won't, I will."
"Woah now, no need to get all touchy. I swear I'm not here to judge you. I told you, first week. I'm here for you if you need to talk. So… here I am." She flashed a gentle, reassuring smile. Draco's scowl eased slightly.
"Speaking of here, how'd you even find me?"
"Followed you of course. I've been worried about you. You've hardly spoken a word in nearly two weeks and you didn't even smirk when Filch stepped on the tail of that wretched cat of his. I knew something was up and I wanted a chance for us to talk, so I followed you here." Her voice dropped to a whisper and with a wink she added, "Don't worry, your secret spot is safe with me."
The tension in his body began to subside. Daphne wasn't the type of person he could stay mad at easily. Yet worry still hung forebodingly in the back of his mind. His next question was formed with caution, though not because he feared asking it. Rather, he feared the answer.
"How'd you know it was Granger?"
"Please," she scoffed. "There's no need to insult my intelligence. As someone who nearly has a degree in both Slytherin and teenage boy psychology, it wasn't too difficult to figure out why you would always spend so much of your energy and attention on her. Not to mention you'd have to be gay, dead, or both not to find that girl attractive."
"That obvious, huh?" Draco paused and sighed heavily. "Well, secret out or not, it really doesn't matter how I feel about her. The past is the past and I can't take back all the things I've done." He picked up a stone and threw it out over the lake, watching it fly until it hit the water with a splash.
"What happened?"
He said nothing for a while, but eventually relented and told her what had happened during their last train wreck-of-a conversation.
"…then she said it was too late and went running out. That was nearly two weeks ago," he finished. "She's completely right. I can't change the past. I can't expect her to forgive me. How can I when I can't even forgive myself?" Daphne furrowed her brows, pondering over the things he had just told her.
"And you said McGonagall wouldn't replace you as head boy?"
He shook his head. "Which means that we're both stuck together. God, if I knew apologizing would make it worse I would've kept my fat mouth shut. But no, I thought that I would try to do the right thing for once in my sorry life! And where did it get me?!" He sighed. "I wouldn't know what the right thing to do was if it bit me on the arse."
"Well, I won't argue with that," Daphne said, conveniently ignoring the glare he then shot at her. "But I don't think you did the wrong thing. Nor do I think this is any reason to have another crack at getting replaced. Sure she's mad at you. Honestly though, what's new? Now, even as a girl I'm no expert on the female brain, and certainly not one so complex as Hermione Granger's. But given what you've just told me and with some prior knowledge to how your relationship has functioned, I would say that she was probably just upset to see you expressing remorse. It's a lot easier to hate someone when you don't think they care.
"I would imagine that she probably hoped you'd apologize for humiliating her, but never in her wildest dreams actually expected it to happen. I think, if you give her some time, she'll come around. There's no doubt in my mind that you've changed Draco. And I think that once she comes to the same realization, things will start to get better. Not to mention, the girl has a work-ethic like nothing I've ever seen. She won't let something like this get between you if it means letting down McGonagall. She's not going to shirk responsibility for any reason."
"But I really hurt her Daphne," Draco said, unsuccessfully masking the pain in his voice.
"I never said you didn't. Look, I'm just speculating here. But I wouldn't try to build up your hopes if I didn't genuinely think that this would all blow over. I think that she'll be able to see past what you've done. She's not some lovey-dovey Hufflepuff, so she won't just forgive you without a shadow of a doubt. She's a stubborn, proud Gryffindor for crying out loud. Even if she does get over it, she's not going to suddenly ask you to afternoon tea and send you handwritten notes. It'll take a long time to convince her. But I think you're up for it Draco. I really do."
She looked at him with confidence. "It's never too late to do the right thing. I think that's something we all need to realize."
He huffed and ran a hand through his hair. Though his doubts had not been entirely allayed, what Daphne was saying was giving him some semblance of comfort. He glanced over and saw caring blue eyes looking back at him. A smile escaped him.
"You're a rubbish Slytherin, you know that?"
"There's the Draco we all know and love." She smiled as the two of them got up to walk back to the castle.
"You don't make a half-bad Hufflepuff yourself, Malfoy."
When they arrived back at Hogwarts it was nearly dinner time so they waited at Slytherin table as students trickled in through the doors. Draco had a good view of the entrance from where he was sitting and watched it discreetly as Daphne, growing increasingly more hungry and irritated, launched into a rant about underage magic restrictions.
The tables filled with food and the flow of students slowed and stopped, but Hermione was nowhere to be found. He gave up trying and attempted to scrounge up interest in the ham on his plate. He took a small bite and chewed at it as an excuse for something to do. Nearly half an hour later, Daphne finished her rant with a passionate swig of cider and excused herself to go study for their potions test.
He had forgotten all about the potions test. Grumbling to himself, he gave a last sideways glance at his food and got up to leave. As he reached the door, he was forced up against the doorframe when the red-headed triplets from Hufflepuff rushed past him, nearly trampling him in their hurry. He heard them snickering as they rounded the corner and noted their bulging pockets. Merlin, he thought to himself. They're nothing but trouble.
It occurred to him just slightly too late that, as head boy, he should probably have called them back and had them turn out their pockets. Though even if he had realized in time, he wasn't particularly in the mood. They were probably just smuggling out sweets anyways.
He turned back to survey the great hall one last time but caught no glimpse of the brown curls he searched for. Turning to leave, he collided with another body. He stumbled and fell back, meeting the cold stone floor with a solid thud. He cursed under his breath and readied a 20 point deduction to whatever house the unlucky student belonged to.
Just as he was about to speak, a glance upwards left him shocked when his gaze was met with a pair of chocolate brown eyes framed beneath the exact curls he had been searching for not moments ago. His anger vanished instantly, replaced immediately by gut-wrenching anxiety.
Her emotions were unreadable as she watched him stand and brush himself off. He was unsure what to do. He felt the urge to apologize, run, ask if she was okay, and assume the fetal position all at once. Finally, he stuttered a feeble "S-sorry." He was about to turn to leave when she broke her silence.
"If you're up for it, I'd like to have a word with you." Her voice was low and cautious. "Preferably somewhere more private." She glanced around the entrance hall. He nodded and followed her when she turned and walked off.
He trailed behind her silently as they ascended staircase after staircase and wound their way through empty castle corridors. She stopped when they reached an open but secluded portion of corridor not far from the observatory. She took a seat on a windowsill overlooking the lake which glistened mysteriously in the moonlight far below.
After several long moments of tense silence- in which Draco shifted awkwardly and hoped that he looked more dignified than he felt- she turned to eye him with displeasure.
"I've decided to accept your apology."
A/N: If you haven't guessed by now, the bad news is that I'm leaving you hanging again. Sorry not sorry for cliffhangers.
(^ D ^) Love you guys and the feedback!