Hi everyone!
Sorry for the long delay.
Also, apologies if this chapter is terribly sad I literally just came back from seeing The rise of Skywalker and I mean if you've seen it you can guess why I am sad haha!
Anyways enjoy this chapter and let me know what you think. I really enjoyed writing it.
Much Love 3
Draco's Point of View
There is a sweet almost sick serenity I find in watching her. I like to watch the way she interacts with her friends. How she moves about and carries herself when no one is watching. It's become a fascination of mine as of late. I can't say it's the healthiest but it's there nonetheless. It is almost like watching a life you wish you could have. I watch her in class when she's not looking but my favourite place to watch her is in the Great Hall during meal times. Lately, she had taken to sitting with her back towards the Slytherin table and I don't blame her. But it makes it easier for me to watch her this way, free from the fear that she might turn her head and catch my eye at any moment.
It is in these small moments that I get such an insight into her life and the easiness with which she carries herself around her friends. There is a force between them so palpable that even I can feel from almost four rows away. It mostly keeps my thoughts at bay to watch her but the odd time I am filled with uncountable jealousy. Immeasurable and it is in those small moments that I find myself scared of my own rage and what it could do if I were to ever lose it, really lose it. I have not properly lost it in a long time. It mostly happened when I was younger and riddled with uncertainty. Now I manage to keep it quelled better. Besides, it's hard not to want that life for her. The way in which she jokes with Potter and the weasels. The way they touch and hold each other like it is the most natural reaction in the world.
I turn my attention to the long rows of Slytherin students around me and note the differences in the way we carry ourselves. Nobody is touching, nobody is holding their stomach from the pain of laughter. We speak and move differently. Everything is measured and noticed and calculated. It is like we all lack free will as if we were machines rather than actual people. But the first years seem more like humans and I guess it is nurture rather than nature. Over time the easiness in which we were born with is just beaten out of us rigorously. We are shaped and moulded without really knowing it. I guess its easier to do when we're younger and want to be like our peers.
For Granger's world, it is the opposite. Comradery and friendship seem to reign above everything else. Your life is worth the same as the person sitting beside you whoever they may be. We are polar opposites in that sense. But I guess I wasn't ever like that to begin with. Before I came here, I was the same as I am now. I guess it was easier then I didn't have to live up to the Malfoy's name as much because my father hadn't failed as much as he has now.
It's easy to sit here and think if I could go back to that day at the sorting hat, I would have asked to be put in any other house than Slytherin but that wasn't who I was back then. I didn't know what I know now. I think I was colder then than I am now. Everything was black and white back then but now there are so many different colours and hues. Every day I seem to see a new one and it can be quite blinding. So, I tend to keep my eyes low. Unless it comes to her.
There is a different type of commotion at the table today. The attention seems to be focused more on the weasel girl. Perhaps it is her birthday or something. As if confirming that thought they all suddenly raise their glasses and clink them together as the weasel girl goes bright red, more than usual. It must be her birthday so. Granger hugs her tightly as Potter and Weasel pat her warmly on the back. The other Gryffindor's cheer also and raise their glasses in support.
Blaise slips in beside me and starts to stuff his face copiously. When he doesn't start hounding me about anything I'm glad. I turn my attention back to Granger and the mass of people surrounding her group at the Gryffindor table. I watch as she flips her hair over her shoulder and the Weasel girl throws her arm around her and the table starts to sing Happy Birthday very loudly and out of tune.
When the noise drops to a dull roar a couple of the students from the table get up and start to leave. Each group congregating at the entrance before heading their separate ways. Granger stands and Potter and the Weasel join her. I watch as they leave the great hall and in typical fashion that is characteristic of her by now. She stops and turns back towards me. I drop my head before her eyes can find mine and I make sure to keep my head down for the next five consecutive minutes just to be sure. When I'm sure she's gone I turn longingly towards the entrance to the Great Hall. To my disbelief, she's still standing there as if she had been waiting for me to turn back around this entire time. I jump back a little in the chair from the fright of seeing her. She smirks at me and leaves a group she had been standing talking with. I watch as she rounds the corner and disappears from my sightline.
I wipe the sweat from my forehead and lean my head against my hands on the table, exhaling loudly into the space between my knees. My knuckles feel cool against my scorching hot forehead. Blaise elbows me in the ribs.
"Sit up," he says harshly. I sit upright and look around at some of the questioning eyes watching me. I eye Blaise who's watching me with a wary expression. I reconstruct my facial expression and sit for the next 20 minutes wearing the expression of quiet optimism which is expected of me.
When most of the Great Hall is empty Blaise stands and motions for me to follow. I hadn't realised it had become so empty until I noticed the time. A quiet noise comes swopping from overhead as my owl glides over the Slytherin table, dropping an envelope in front of me. It lands between two apples, sitting upright facing towards me. In clear print, I notice my father's handwriting. I gulp, taking the envelope. Blaise watches me nervously, sitting down again on the bench.
With the sharp side of the knife, I scoop under the envelope and rip the top off. At first, I think it might be empty but in the bottom right-hand corner I find a tiny piece of parchment. When I pull it out I can feel the panic in Blaise. A tiny piece of parchment is not a good sign. Even he knows that. When I open it the words 'Tomorrow night' sit neatly in the centre. There is nothing else written except for those two words. I fold the piece of parchment and click my fingers muttering the word incendio. I hold on to it for too long and the fire that engulfs the tiny piece of parchment burns the tip of my thumb and forefinger but I barely feel it. In fact, it feels good to feel the pain.
Blaise stands back up and rests his hand on my shoulder giving it a hard squeeze. The pain feels good also.
"I'm sorry man," he mutters before turning and taking his leave. Blaise is good like that in a sense. He knows when to walk away. He knows when shit is serious. But for a second I almost ask him to stay but that wouldn't be very Slytherin of me. I know that this path I am on I must walk alone. When the fire is extinguished and the ash is all that remains of the piece of parchment I turn my attention to the teacher's table and I notice Snape's watching me curiously. A look of brief sadness crosses his eyes but he stands taking his leave before I can shoot him any kind of questioning look.
Dumbledore catches my eye as he sits in the centre, leaning towards Professor McGonagall, listening to her. But his attention seems to be on me. I turn away, too ashamed to look him in the eye. When I leave the Great hall I feel his eyes on me the entire way out.
When I've checked both the bridge and McGonagall's classroom for the third time for Granger I sit on one of the windowsills behind a large pillar outside the Gryffindor common room. In my present position, I am concealed enough that anyone entering or leaving won't notice me. It is an unwise move I know that especially considering what's going to happen tomorrow. But it is precisely for that reason that I find myself on this windowsill.
I can not guarantee what will happen tomorrow. I can not guarantee that I will even be able to succeed and if not surely that will mean my own death. Even if I do succeed time will move quickly. Everything will move quickly and perhaps the cold war will be over and the real war shall begin. There is no room for us in a war. There is only now. Right this second. This moment here where I am still me and not a pawn. I understand that I am a pawn but a pawn still has to do its job to protect those it cares about. Even if it means death.
I don't want to be a pawn but I guess I am lucky because most pawns don't even realise they are pawns in the first place. I know my position, my place in all of this. I am the Kickstarter and they aren't often remembered. Perhaps when it is all over I will be at peace. If I die. Let it be peaceful. If I die. I hope she is far away from it all.
A noise catches my attention and I peak out from the windowsill, between the aperture of the wall and the pillar. A mop of ginger hair catches my attention as the girl Weasel leaves the common room. My patience and time are running thin. The words are out before I catch myself.
"Hey!" I exclaim, stepping up from the windowsill. The Weasel turns around with a jump and eyes me with a confused expression.
"Malfoy?" she asks, unsure. She eyes my expression and obvious dishevelled appearance. I run a hand through my hair as if that might make up for anything. I try to think of a logical explanation but my mind can't. There is nothing that I can say that won't come off wrong and I don't have the time or the energy to be as careful as I usually think I'm being.
"Get Granger," I say when nothing else comes to mind. She looks at me with such a pitiful expression I want to smack her but I hold back my rage.
"Why?" she asks, dragging out the word. Her eyes take on a knowing expression.
"I need to talk to her, Okay? Now are you going to go and get her for me or what?" I ask harsher this time. The Weasel just smirks at me, rolling her eyes as she turns around and heads back into the common room. I run my hands nervously through my hair again as I sit back down on the windowsill.
When almost fifteen full minutes past the painting swings open and Granger steps out. At first, she looks confused as she looks up and down the hallway. She eventually spots me behind the pillar and walks towards me. I wipe the palms of my hands off against my trousers.
"Malfoy? What are you doing here?" she asks, leaning into the space between the pillar and the wall, making the windowsill feel like a place where only we exist.
"Someone could have seen you," she warns. I roll my eyes at her. There isn't any time left for that. I know I should worry about being so reckless and careless right now but there is such little time left. It's already 10 pm.
"I'm not worried," I say. She searches my eyes with an unsure expression.
"Malfoy, what's going on?" she asks.
"Do you want to go for a walk?" I ask, suddenly feeling claustrophobic in the small space. It comes in waves now. The panic and fear. It hits me like a single punch to the chest and it's gone again but I don't know when the punch is coming so I'm almost constantly tense since I read the words on that piece of parchment.
"Walk? I'm not on rounds tonight Malfoy. If the other prefect catches us out walking there'll be trouble. Besides we can't just go for a walk together, remember?"
"Then let's not walk around the castle. Let's go down to the lake?" I suggest.
"Come on," I say, pulling her arm before she can come up with another excuse.
We walk quietly beside one another not speaking. Mostly so we can be sure to hear anyone coming but I also feel Granger bubbling with questions as we move. I feel lighter walking beside her despite it all. The way you used to feel when you were younger and you hurt yourself and your mother comforted you. Being around her feels like that sometimes for me. I sometimes don't realise or can't put a name on an emotion until Granger is around me because she has a way of alleviating that feeling and making it better. She doesn't always have to speak sometimes it is just her presence alone does that job just the same. Perhaps that is the reason I sought her out tonight. But I know that is not the only reason.
If I should die tomorrow I guess I want to die knowing that I could have had a life. I want to die knowing that regardless of everything I have done in the past that there was hope for me. That there was someone who saw something in me worthwhile. Worth the effort. Is that not the main goal in life? To find someone who sees something in you that you didn't believe to be in you. Someone who sees the real you. Someone who sees the soul you thought was not possible for you to possess.
When we reach the bridge I step to the other side of her to block some of the wind. She seems grateful but still pulls her light robe around her more tightly. Perhaps I shouldn't have suggested we go to the lake on such a cold night. I'll have to cast a charm when we're there to keep her from dying of frostbite.
As the hill descends I take long strides down it, breaking into a run until I reach the edge of the lake. The wind whistles loudly across the far edges as the lake water laps quietly at my feet. Granger stumbles a little before finally making her way to the edge of the later. Here our breath is transformed into thick clouds that carry a little out towards the water before disappearing into nothing.
"It's beautiful," she comments. I turn and look down at her rosy red cheeks.
"It is," I agree. I take off my outer robe and lay it on the ground and take a seat, casting a warming charm when Granger joins me.
"I wish I had come here more. I don't know why I didn't," I say.
"It's just far outside the castle is all," she says.
"Yeah but I still should have made the effort. It's different here."
"Different how?" she inquires.
"It's peaceful," I clarify. "It can be so loud up there sometimes," I say pointing towards the castle away in the distance. Granger turns and I watch her take in the view of the castle from here.
"It can be suffocating," she adds.
"Exactly."
"But down here it's like none of it even matters. It's like it's not real. It's just one giant postcard or something," I say to which Granger lets out a little snort.
"Very big postcard," she adds. I smirk.
"Malfoy?"
"Hmm," I say, skipping a stone out over the lake. The noise echoes through the forbidden forest on the other side.
"Did something happen?" She asks, placing her hand on my forearm, right over the hidden mark. Her fingers feel cold even through the fabric of my jumper. I move my hand up and catch hers in mine and rub my fingers against hers in an attempt to warm them up. Her hand freezes a little at this gesture and I don't blame her. I have not often done gestures like this. But tonight is a night where nothing and everything is wrong. A night where nothing matters and everything does so it's hard to know what to do and what not to do. So, I chose not to think too much about anything. Except what feels natural at the moment.
"Is everything okay? I mean something must be wrong if you approached Ginny?" she asks again, more forward this time, squeezing my hand to emphasis certain words. I look up at the stars, twinkling so brightly overhead. I think of war.
"What do you think men whisper to one another in the trenches of war?" I ask, still watching the stars. I lean back against the grass and fold my other hand behind my head.
"Malfoy you're worrying me," she says, pulling on my hand.
"When I was younger my father had a book about war. It was a muggle book so I thought it was super strange that he would have it. He always kept it hidden in the bottom right-hand shelf of his work table and I often took it out just to read when he was away," I explain.
"When I was younger I thought war was constant battles and fights and blood and death," I say narratively.
"But war is not like that at all. War can be so quiet, almost peaceful at times. Quiet as a mouse even. It's not all of those things. I mean it is but only sometimes. There are very few actual fights in war. Most of it is just waiting. That's all it really is. War is waiting. Waiting and waiting until one day you're time is up."
"I think those men in the trenches waiting for war actually wish for something to happen because they are so sick of waiting that when it actually does happen they would give anything to just be waiting again," I say.
Granger lays down beside me and turns her attention towards the stars. We both sit silently for a minute listening to the lake water lapping, nipping at the edges of our shoes.
"What are you trying to say, Malfoy?" she eventually asks her quiet angelic voice fitting perfectly with the sounds of the water lapping.
"I guess you don't know how easy you have it until your time is up," I say, pulling up some grass from the dirt. I throw it away and wrap my hand through another clump.
"Is your time up?" she questions. I can hear how hard she is trying to keep her voice even and it makes me smirk. I like how much she tries sometimes to play along with me. It is easy to talk to her. I will miss that. I chose not to answer her seriously.
"Eventually all of our time will be up. We just don't know it until it's too late," I comment. Granger pushes up onto her elbow and stares down at me. Her hair falls from behind her back and brushes against the corner on my jaw. Today it smells like citrus.
"Is your time up?" she asks again, her eyes concentrated. I tuck the hair behind her right ear but it falls back down again in front of my face, flooding me with its scent.
"How sweet you smell," I smile pushing her hair back again. Her facial expression doesn't change. She leans down and presses her forehead against mine. She throws her right arm over me and cups the right side of my face in her hand and just holds me, ever so still. We stay like that for a while, her forehead pressed against mine and I close my eyes because it doesn't matter if I can't see the stars anymore.
"I am scared," she whispers so low I wonder if I just imagined it. But I feel the small shakes she's trying to hide as the pressure goes to her face. I feel a small wet drop hit my cheek but she doesn't move or even acknowledge that she's crying so neither do I.
"Do not be scared, Granger. There are so many people there for you," I assure her.
"I am here for you," she says in a rushed voice.
"I know."
"Are you scared?" she asks, exhaling and sniffling as she wipes away a few fallen tears.
"Not right now," I say honestly. I am not scared just this second which is a relief. Granger lets her head fall onto my right shoulder so her chest is sprawl across mine. I take my arms and wrap them around her tightly as I pull her close, almost cradling her. She squeezes.
"Are you going to go away?" she asks. A lump starts to form in the back of my throat at her question.
"Granger," I start not wanting this conversation to continue.
"I don't want you to go anywhere," she confesses, wiping her wet face against my shoulder. I pull her body on top of mine and she shifts to get comfortable, eventually resting her head on my chest. She wipes at her face again and I try greatly to swallow the lump that won't let me speak.
"How long will you be gone for?" she inquires then. I brush my hands through her hair as I try to flatten it down.
"I don't know," I croak, my voice feeling unfamiliar and heavy against my vocal cords.
"Will you come back?" she asks and I feel her lips tremble against my neck. I clench my teeth so hard I'm momentarily afraid I might crack one of them.
"I don't know, Granger," I say with a shaky voice. The lump in my throat is so big now it hurts to breathe. She leans up and rests her head against mine again, pushing down with a little force.
"I'll be here, Malfoy, okay? I'll be right here," she says matter of factly.
"I don't want you to put your life on hold for me, Granger," I caution her.
"That's not your choice to make, Malfoy."
"I know that it's your choice, Granger. But you're choosing wrong," I explain, hoping she might reconsider.
"I don't want you to be waiting in the trenches too," I admit.
"Yeah but one day I won't be waiting right?" she asks hopefully. I close my eyes.
"Think of the life you could have, Granger. Think of the wonderful things you could do and accomplish. I mean do you have any idea what I would give to have your life. To have choices," I say.
"You have choices, Malfoy. There is always a choice. I mean, wasn't I one of your choices?" she asks, pressing her lips close to mine so they're just barely touching. I smirk against her mouth.
"I don't think you were a choice," I say to which she frowns.
"I think you were more of a gift," I add. "One I didn't always want but was addressed to me nonetheless. One I didn't want to open or taint or break. But still, one that was for me. I'm not always good at receiving gifts," I admit.
She presses her lips to mine in sort of a hurried, panicked kiss. I pull on her lips with mine fiercely and deeply until she eventually breaks the kiss and chooses to stare at me instead.
"What do you see when you look at me?" I ask, pushing away the hair from her face. She scrutinizes my face.
"It hurts to look at you sometimes," she admits, wiping at her face. In this light, her cheeks are glistening with tears.
"Why?"
"Because I always feel like it will be the last time I look at you. You have this look sometimes like you might just disappear forever. So it hurts," she confesses. "But I see you, Malfoy. The real you. I see it when I look into your eyes. I can see the person you are. You eyes are very telling. They don't lie," she adds. I smirk, wiping away a tear for her.
"What do you see when you look at me?" she asks, her cheeks getting a little redder from the question.
I weigh this up in my head for a moment as I watch her eyes waiting for me to respond.
"I see someone to be proud of. Someone that I wish I could be more like. Someone that I've always been jealous of because of how easy everything is for you," I admit.
"Malfoy my life is far from easy," Granger argues.
"I know that. But you handle things a lot better than I do and I don't think you get enough credit for that. I think people think you're weak. But they're wrong. I think you're strong, Granger. Stronger than me even. I know that your friends put a lot of weigh on your shoulders but you can always handle it. In a far better way than most people. I wish I could be more like you," I admit.
Grangers mouth falls into a small O as she searches my face.
"When?" she asks bravely and I avert my eyes.
"When, Malfoy?" she asks again, fiercer this time. I turn back to her.
"Soon."
"How soon?"
"Soon," I say with more emphasis this time.
"Do we only have right now?" she asks and I avert my eyes again afraid that she might actually be capable of reading my mind through my eyes.
"We only ever have just right now," I say, averting. I feel her nod.
"Okay then," she says at last, pressing her lips against mine in a slow, hypnotising kiss. When she breaks it she leans her head against my chest again and I feel her pulse start to quicken.
"Do you love me?" she asks and my own heart rate starts to sore. I was not expecting that.
"Granger-
"Do you?" she asks more serious this time. I search the stars for a plausible answer. It does not feel like the time to have this conversation right now. But right now, is all that we have. I know that. But still perhaps if I don't admit it then she will be able to move on easier if I should die tomorrow.
"I already know," she admits. "I'll ask you when you come back, okay?"
"Granger I don't want you to wait. I told you that," I chastise her.
"Why would I settle for something else?" she asks surprised.
"Because you never know who you can love if you give it a shot?" I say, feeling sick to my stomach at the idea of Granger married off to some other man. Some slimy git who works at the ministry and thinks himself above her or her abilities. He could never really know her. He could never really see her the way I do.
"I know who I love," she says suddenly almost cutting me off. I shut my mouth and stare up at the stars as the heat begins to rise to my neck and ears. I encircle my arms around her tighter and she shivers a little.
"Granger I want you to know that it's okay," I start.
"What?"
"If when all of this is finished with that you have a change of heart about me. I'll understand. You won't even have to explain I'll just know by looking at you whether or not things have changed, Okay?"
"You don't need to worry about that," she informs me.
"I'm being serious, Granger."
"So am I," she argues.
"If it should happen. Don't beat yourself up about it. I understand," I explain. She huffs into my chest but doesn't put up much of a fight.
"Come on, Granger. It's getting late. We're going to have to head back now," I say, leaning up. She continues to lie against my chest so that when I sit upright I'm cradling her in my lap.
On the walk back to the castle we walk slowly as if savouring each step together. I think she knows what's to come without me even having to say it. She understands that it's bad even if she doesn't want to admit and I think she is worried that her opinion of me will change. We move dreamily along the corridors because the entire night has felt like a dream. An entire night without a proper fight is progress for us. An entire night without my worries and insecurities overtaking my thoughts too much aswell.
When I reach the Gryffindor common room entrance it feels all too sudden and she wears a sulking expression when she turns around to face me. I walk over towards the windowsill area which is more hidden from view in case anyone decides to leave or enter the common room.
I capture her mouth in mine for what might possibly be the last time. I hold her so tightly flush against me as I move my mouth with hers in perfect sync. She tastes as sweet as she is and warm like a late summer evening. She tastes of home. Not the manor back in London but a home I never had but imagined as a child. A home where everyone was happy and content. A safe place to land.
I pull away, placing a small peck on her lips before she pulls back and smiles up at me.
"I'll see you soon?" she asks.
"Granger," I start.
"Just say you'll see me soon, okay?" she asks, her tone desperate. I nod.
"I'll see you soon," I say, trying to be as convincing as I can be. She leans forward wrapping her arms around me and I hug her tightly for a moment. Her lips move to my ear.
"Do you love me?" she whispers. She pulls back quickly and places her hand over my mouth, stopping me from speaking and turns her attention to my eyes, searching there for the answer instead. I look deep into her chocolate brown eyes. She smiles.
"I just wanted to make sure," she says.
"I'll see you soon," she says again as she turns.
"Oh and Malfoy?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm proud of you too," she says with a smile as she disappears into the Gryffindor common room.
How can she look in me and see it all? What does she see? Why couldn't I even see what she can see? She has this sort of unwavering conviction when it comes to me and for that I envy her. I'm not nearly half as sure of myself as she seems to be.
But as the painting closes and I'm left alone in the corridor way past midnight I feel it again. The silence of war is coming to an end and soon there will be nothing left but burning sound alight with fear.
My waiting is over.