CHAPTER 7
Draco had spent the night fitfully; his mind plagued with visions of torture, murder, and many other things that were common to…Death Eaters. When his eyes flew open the next morning, he was covered in sweat, and he was breathing a little faster than usual. Sighing and putting his head in his hands, he rubbed his temple with his fingers as he remembered that Hermione would undoubtedly want to meet with him again, and that the more she would be around other students, the more her impression of him would be warped and distorted.
Not wanting to drag himself into the bathroom and do everything manually, he performed two quick charms the equivalent of a rigorous tooth-brushing regime, and a good, long facial. Not that he would have any inkling as to what a facial was; he’d just always heard his mum blather on and on about it and its qualities. Really.
When Draco finally left his room, he heard Hermione animatedly chatting with someone else. It was probably one of her little Gryffindor friends like Harry or Ron or Ginny. (RON?! GINNY?! Merlin’s beard, I’ve gone off the fucking deep end!) But it wasn’t any of them…it was that Armani boy.
Draco’s eyes narrowed. Something Armani had just said made Hermione laugh merrily, and with a cold glare at the unwelcome visitor, Draco walked towards them.
“Oh, hello, Draco!” cried Hermione happily on seeing him. Her face was still a bit red from all the laughter, he noticed bitterly, and then he realized with a jolt that she was genuinely happy to see him. As if life couldn’t get anymore fucked up.
At the sound of her cheerful greeting, Armani turned to look at him, causing Draco to put on one of his handy-dandy “fuck-you” smirks.
Alexander’s eyes narrowed slightly as he watched Draco smirk, but before he could say anything, Hermione cut in, “Alexander, meet Draco, my roommate! He doesn’t speak much, but he’s still very nice!”
Alexander raised an almost insultingly cynical eyebrow at her remark as she continued on with the unnecessary introductions. “And Draco, meet Alexander Armani. He’s very kindly brought me some breakfast, and has been entertaining me with some excellent stories!”
She looked expectantly at Draco as she gestured to an open chair beside her. “Care to join us, then?”
Draco shook his head, trying to look faintly sorry, before glowering at Alexander and stomping out of the common room. Hermione looked a little disappointed as she turned back to look at Alexander.
“Sorry,” she said as she looked down into her hands. “I guess he isn’t very social. You know, Alexander, it’s the strangest thing, but sometimes I feel like I’ve known Draco for a very, very long time. I mean, I look at his face and I think, ‘I know this boy from somewhere, I really know him.’ Weird, isn’t it?”
Alexander hesitated before saying slowly, “Perhaps you do know him, Hermione. Maybe your memory is just a bit…dormant.”
Hermione smiled. “Dormant? Hmm, perhaps.” She stood up and stretched, not noticing Alexander’s eyes lightly trailing up her body as she did so. “Anyways, Alexander,” she added. “Thanks for bringing me my breakfast. Merlin knows I was starving!”
“You’re welcome,” he replied while picking up her plates and heading for the door.
“Say, Alexander,” she called just as he was about to leave. “Do you think we could go for a little walk sometime later on?”
He grinned a faint-worthy grin. “Of course we can. Let me know whenever you want, all right?”
Hermione gave him a thumbs-up before heading over to her private bookshelf to find a good book. Alexander frowned as the portrait swung shut behind him. He didn’t like leaving her alone in there, with the only other student knowing the password being that Malfoy boy. He’d seen the numerous articles written about the Malfoy clan, and he’d heard the many gruesome tales about their lifestyles and connections. No, he didn’t like leaving Hermione back there in that private common room.
He didn’t like it one bit.
***************
Draco chewed his food mechanically with his eyes fixed on his plate and his hands stiffly holding the spoon and the fork. He knew that Pansy was somewhere nearby, probably trying to burn a hole right through his head with her eyes. He’d actually snorted in amusement a few minutes ago when she’d been slobbering over another boy in their year, obviously trying to elicit a jealous reaction out of him. Before she could mentally scar anyone with her supposedly seductive antics, Blaise had loudly said, “All right, Pansy, let the poor boy go, you’ve terrorized him enough!”
Sure enough, the moment she loosened her hold a bit around her hapless victim’s collar, he sprang out of his seat and rushed out of the Great Hall. This managed to keep the rest of the table from retching into their pancakes and toast, (a right hard feat considering that Pansy had been sticking out her lips kind of in the way a chimp does when it’s trying to pout or when it’s “in the mood”), and Blaise was rewarded with a death glare from Pansy and hoots of laughter from the rest of the Slytherins.
After the mirth died out, however, Draco was back to brooding over what Hermione was doing and if that Armani boy was still with her or not. He knew that so far, Hermione thought well of him, but he also knew that Armani (and the rest of the world for that matter) would have no trouble dishing the dirt on Draco’s current “good guy” image.
He felt a tap on his shoulder. It was Blaise.
Of course, it’s Blaise, Draco thought irritably. It’s always Blaise. When has it NOT been Blaise? The guy analyzes me like I’m a piece of fucking Arithmancy work! Obviously he’s going to try to be sympathetic towards me now, and try to get me to talk, which I won’t because I don’t even know what my own feelings are.
“Erm, Draco?” murmured Blaise as he viewed his friend with slight concern. “Draco, you look like you’re about to bite my head off.”
Draco struggled to rearrange his face into a calmer expression. After all, Blaise was his best friend. It wouldn’t do to sever his head now.
“Sorry, mate,” Draco mumbled back. “I’m just getting sick of Pansy glowering at us…that girl could make a mirror throw up if she tried. No, wait. Scratch that. She doesn’t even have to try.”
Blaise rolled his eyes. He’d seen Draco in this mood many times before. It was always the same drill: get mad or irritated about something, attempt to hide it from your best friend, and then channel your anger into insults and obnoxiousness. It never worked…for long.
“What’s wrong, mate?” Blaise asked quietly.
“I don’t know, Blaise,” Draco sighed. “I honestly don’t know.”
“It’s Hermione, isn’t it?”
Draco blinked. “Er, no. What would make you think that?”
Blaise scoffed as he took in Draco’s lightly tinged cheeks. “Well, considering the fact that you made a truce with her, made sure she was taken safely to the hospital, stood up for her, and can’t stand it when Alexander is nearby, I would say that clearly there’s something different going on with you and her.”
“She’s lost her fucking memory!” Draco nearly shouted. There was an awkward silence as people’s heads swiveled around to look at him. He gave each person a cold stare before he was sure they were all otherwise engaged. “Look,” he whispered fiercely to Blaise who bent his head down a little lower. “It’s not like I’m mooning after her or something, all right? I’ve just been thinking that if only people weren’t so damn single-minded, I wouldn’t have to worry about what everyone’s telling Hermione about me behind my back! But…it doesn’t matter, Blaise. I’m just being stupid now. Why should I give a crap about what she thinks about me? What is she to me? ”
Blaise had rarely seen Draco look so miserable, and he knew exactly what he was talking about. Having an arrogant attitude and a bit of a superiority complex was one thing, but having direct connections to one of the most notorious wizards of all time was quite another arena. These days, it was like you were completely defined by your parents and your background: Oh, your parents are Healers at St. Mungo’s? You must be a perfect angel! *gasp* Your parents were Death Eaters? SHUN THE NON-BELIEVERS!
Yeah. Something like that.
Blaise patted Draco on the back. “Don’t worry, man. I’m sure that Hermione’s not the kind of girl who goes off believing anything she hears. I’m pretty sure she’s a tad bit smarter than that.”
Draco grunted something indecipherable as he dropped his head onto the table.
“Hey,” said Blaise in an effort to bring some cheer into the conversation. “It’s Sunday and we’re all being let loose into Hogsmeade. Why don’t you go? It’ll be a nice change of scenery from this place, and you can go over to the Three Broomsticks and have a nice, warm butterbeer.”
“Oog.” mumbled Draco not very cooperatively.
Blaise sighed, nearly feeling like slamming his own head on the table. To his relief, however, Draco stopped acting like the living dead and got to his feet. He started to walk away before turning around and saying quietly, “I’ll go. But don’t wait up for me. I want to be alone.”
Blaise nodded before watching as Draco loped away like a drowsy tiger: weary, yet still trying to present himself as the height of power. It was strange what a person would do to try to keep up false pretenses, even when he was completely messed up inside; and it was sad that no matter what his best friend would ever do, no one would ever let him forget that he once had ties to the name of Voldemort.
This time when Draco entered the common room, Hermione was lying on the couch, her face illuminated by the perpetually dancing flames. She had her eyes closed and was humming to herself. Draco noticed that her eyelashes were really quite long, and that they rested lightly on her cheeks.
He tried to make his way past her, but she somehow sensed his presence and quickly sat up.
“Draco! It’s good to see you! Were you just going out somewhere?”
He looked at the light coat he had on, and then back up at her earnest face. “Uh, yeah.”
She clapped her hands as she cried, “Thank Merlin, the boy can speak! Hey,” she asked, “You’re going to Hogsmeade right? Would you mind terribly if I tagged along with you?”
He raised his eyebrows as a warning signal started beeping in his head. He ignored it. “Why not?”
She beamed. “Why, thank you, Draco! Maybe we could meet up with Alexander too.”
Then, seeing his expression, she laughed and said hastily, “Just kidding, just kidding!”
* * * *
Draco watched as she ran into her room, grabbed a warm coat and a scarf from her closet, and then ran back down the stairs before stopping in front of him. Quickly putting on the coat and scarf, she gave him a brief smile before striding forward and opening the door for him.
He stepped outside with a shocked look on his face. No girl had ever, EVER held the door open for him for anything. They’d all been too afraid of chipping their five hundred galleon manicures on the wood.
With Draco making sure as to not walk too closely to Hermione, they both walked forward in silence until they reached the final boundaries where there stood a skeptical Professor McGonagall. Her lips thinned as she surveyed them both before tersely saying, “You may go.”
But as the two departed, Draco thought he heard the professor sigh, and he turned to see the elderly woman gazing at Hermione’s back with evident concern. Ashamed and discomfited at the same time for reasons even he could not state, he ducked his head into the collar of his jacket and trudged forward with Hermione at his side.
The two of them received a few odd looks from people passing by, but no one dared approach Draco as he nearly shot daggers from his eyes at anyone who attempted to snicker or gasp. Once, Hermione even put her arm through his in an obviously friendly manner, but he flushed a dull pink which caused her to immediately withdraw her arm.
“S-sorry,” she mumbled as she avoided his gaze.
Draco didn’t say anything, but inside he was yelling at himself. Damn it, that actually felt nice…fuck me and my bloody pale skin, always making people think that I’m uncomfortable! Gah!
The two first headed into the Three Broomsticks where Draco boldly ordered two firewhiskeys and a private booth. Hermione, who was standing next to the window, didn’t seem to hear his order, so when Draco led her to the private booth with two brimming mugs in his hand, she didn’t seem to suspect anything.
They sat down facing each other, and Hermione took a small sip of her drink. Her forehead crinkled a bit as she frowned and then took another sip.
“Is this butterbeer?” she asked as Draco took a swig out of his own mug.
“Ah, yes, it is.” he said as he thought, What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.
“Tastes different.”
“New flavor,” he said she glanced at him with slight suspicion.
In a while, however, both Draco and Hermione had let down their guards and had begun ordering a few more drinks. By their third mug each, both were reasonably drunk, and so began their mostly innocent conversation which was punctured over and over with hiccups from both parties.
“You know, Draco, (hic) I’ve never had this drink before. It’s (hic) quite tasty.”
“Of-of course,” grunted Draco as he desperately tried not to hiccup in front of a girl. “It’s the fire that keeps us going inside (HIC)!”
Hermione giggled madly at his enormous hiccup and his red face, and after moderate mortification, Draco joined in. (Not giggling of course, but just doing some sort of manly, high-pitched chuckle.)
After they both quieted down a bit, Draco unthinkingly said, “You know, you’re very pretty.”
The moment he said this, he tensed, but all she did was tilt her head and grin at him. “W-why, thanks, Draco!” she hiccupped. “I-I think you’re pretty hot too.”
She blushed as she saw him smirking at her before asking him, “What’s your favorite color?”
“Green,” he responded instantly. “What’s yours?”
“Actually, m-mine’s green too. Emerald, if you want to be (hic) exact.”
Draco was intrigued. “Really? But shouldn’t you be in love with red and gold like everyone else in your (hic) house?”
“Nah,” she said as she waved her hand dismissively. “Red and g-gold isn’t the greatest combination in the world, you know, (hic) and they do clash just the tiniest bit. Green is like, (hic) I don’t know, a subtle color of passion.”
Draco snorted, but Hermione retorted defensively, “It’s true! Everyone attributes red to passion, a fiery, insatiable passion. Well, I think green shows a deeper passion…a forbidden, stormy passion…a passion envied by the gods.”
Needless to say, Draco was slightly stunned by her words, but he asked teasingly, “Have you ever experienced this passion?”
Hermione had a faraway look on her face as she said softly, “Funny you should ask, Draco. The thing is, I really do feel like I have felt it before, but – but, I just can’t pluck the moment out of my head!”
Draco’s eyes widened as he remembered what he was sure she was trying to recall.
FLASHBACK:
She had seen the tear spill over from his eye, and unconsciously grazed his face with her fingers to wipe it away. The moment she did so, she dropped her hand from his surprised face and whispered, “Sorry.”
Then, Draco did something he’d never done before.
“Hermione.”
She froze for a heartbeat before slowly rotating her head back towards him. Draco stepped forward, and gently lifted her face up to his before whispering her name one more time, and then leaning down and kissing her.
Hermione relented for a second or two before giving in and rising on her tiptoes to wrap her arms around his neck. He responded by putting his arms around her waist and holding her close to him.
They stayed that way long before they realized that it had stopped raining.
END FLASHBACK
He now stared at the girl in front of him. She was twirling a strand of her hair between her fingers and looking off into the distance. He saw the steady pull of nostalgia tug at her mind as she bit her lip and tried so hard to remember that moment. A small pain in his chest caused him to look down before he realized what it was.
He’d been told many times before that he was heartless and that there was just an empty hole in his chest where his heart should’ve been. He’d always tried to act arrogant at the time, acting as if he didn’t care what they said, but since then, he’d always been afraid that they were right; that maybe he didn’t have a heart after all.
But now he knew that he did have a heart, because it was aching for the lost girl in front of him, and it was breaking as he wondered if she would ever truly recover again.
No comments:
Post a Comment