Magnetic Attraction - Chapter Eight

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Chapter 8: Terrible Honesty

The Slytherin table hadn’t known what to think when Hermione sat down on the bench next Draco. So since they saw no other option, they ignored her, which suited her fine. Pansy had been most disappointed when he didn’t allow her to sit in his lap during lunch, and instead had settled in across from them, glaring at Hermione as she held Draco’s hand, (since it would be rude to take off their shoes at the table). When anybody made any snarky comments about the attraction Draco sent him or her a look that would have made even the late Voldemort cringe, before turning back to his meal. Hermione picked at her food just as she had at breakfast.

“You need to eat, Granger,” Draco ordered her, his voice low so only the girl next to him could hear.

“I’m not hungry,” she answered curtly, poking her chicken with her fork.

“Force down something so we can get out of here.” She made no move to do so, so he scowled and stood up. They didn’t mumble any goodbyes to the Slytherins as they took their leave, and Hermione ignored the Gryffindor table as they passed it. She was a little annoyed with the whole group; Ron could have easily saved her from Draco that first day in Charms class by saving her a seat. But then again, a little seed had been planted in her mind that maybe she wouldn’t be better off with them.

The rest of the day passed without incident. They finished their homework together, with Draco sneaking glances at her and Hermione pretending not to notice. As was starting to be pattern, they had dinner in their common room, or at least she did. She continued to pick away at her meal. It did not go unnoticed, but he chose not to say anything. After living his life with his mother and father he knew that harping on her behavior would only upset her and drive her farther away, something he didn’t want to do. However, he yearned to help her, force her out of her act of the perfect girl. She had put her mask back up, pretending nothing had happened.

They both remained without comment as they changed into pajamas and Draco didn’t protest as he slid once again into her bed. Neither went to sleep as they lay on opposite sides of the mattress. He closed his eyes, but could only wonder what would happen on Monday, when they were forced to work in class. Potions shouldn’t be that much of a problem, since Slughorn loved both of them and would be thrilled, and most of their teachers wouldn’t give them trouble. Their so-called friends were what caused him to worry. Hermione was so fragile as she softly rested her cheek on the pillow, eyes shut, and Potter and Weasely would try and force her to sit with them, just to piss him off. They didn’t really care. And what of the Slytherins? Draco was their leader, they would flock to him.

And yet why did he care? Because he did care about Hermione. It was fact now. She was all he could think about, everything else faded away. EH wanted to kiss her, to hold her, to have her look at him as if her was the only thing in the world. He much more than fancied her now. Do I love Granger? He asked himself. He didn’t know. See, this is where he needed his godfather Snape; he always knew these things about girls.

“Mya?” he asked softly about 10 minutes after they had shut out the lights. She didn’t open her eyes, just mumbled,

“What?” Taking a deep breath, he asked,

“What did it feel like when you realized you loved… well, him?” Her eyes flew open in surprise. She raised her eyebrows.

“Are you joking? Why do you want to know?” Ah yes, there it was. The dreaded question.

“No I’m not joking. Just tell me.” She sighed and searched his face for any sense of humor. His face was deadly serious.

“I can’t believe I’m talking to Draco Malfoy about love,” she whispered to herself, closing her eyes.

“Why is that so hard to believe? Just tell me!”

“Alright fine.” He watched as she took her free hand and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Don’t laugh.”

“Why would I? I have a heart. I’m not all bad. Just tell me.”

“It’s terrible,” she said finally, her voice quiet. “Because at that moment you realize your life will never be the same. Suddenly there’s this person who’s welfare is more important that your own. You can’t focus and you can’t think, because he’s all there is.” Hermione took another deep breath as Draco waited eagerly. Hopefully she would go off on a tangent and accidentally slip the name of a certain boy. He knew who it was, but he wanted to hear her say it.

“And you look at him and suddenly you know that if you ever loose him, you won’t be able to go on.” Ah ha! He’d gotten her. She was reminiscing and slipping.

“Nothing else matters, not friends, not family, not even grades. It’s only him and everything else fades into the background.” Ok, now he was a little scared. This was sounding a little too familiar. Her voice was breaking.

“And suddenly you would do anything for him, because you couldn’t live without him.” Maybe he was pushing her too far. Tears were pooling in the corners of her eyes. He raised his free hand and cupped the side of her cheek.

“It sounds positively dreadful,” he offered, smoothing some of her hair back from her eyes. She gave him a weak smile and a humorless laugh before they faded.

“My god I miss him, Draco,” she stammered helplessly, her defenses gone. That was easy. Without any hesitation he pulled her against him and held her head against his chest. “I just can’t take it anymore, I want him back.” Maybe he had a reason to be upset, his crush was crying because her love was dead, and couldn’t care less about him, but at the same time he just didn’t want her to be sad.

“Let it out, Mya. Let it all out,” he whispered as she moaned into his chest.

“Why doesn’t anyone notice? Why didn’t Harry and Ron or anyone see I’m miserable? Why doesn’t anyone care that I still love him?” she wailed, grateful that at least someone was listening. He rested his chin on the top of her head, wondering the same thing. “Doesn’t anyone care about me? Doesn’t anyone see I’m dying? I don’t want to be the perfect head-girl! I don’t want to pretend anymore! I just want to die! I just want to be with him again!” He stroked a finger up and down her spine, waiting for the inevitable climax. Her body was shaking as she had several racking sobs. 5… 4… 3… 2… 1… “I need him back! I need my Cedric!”

There it was. She’d admitted it at last. She was in love with Cedric Diggory and someone knew. Draco Malfoy knew. The world hadn’t ended! Um… now what?

“You’ll see him again, Mya. You will, I promise,” he whispered, kissing the top of her bushy head.

“I heard him, Draco, I heard him. He’s behind the veil. I could hear him, he was so close, just behind the veil,” she repeated, sounding as if it was a huge secret. He blinked, what veil? She struggled to harness in a fresh case of hiccups, her ragged breathing spreading across his chest. “It was like he was next to me, it was like he was just out of grasp.”

“What veil, Hermione?” he asked gently, as if she would break into a thousand pieces if he spoke to loudly. She pressed a hand to his skin, trying to regain stability.

“That veil at the department of mysteries. It scared me; I was like drawn to it. I couldn’t pull myself away. Ron couldn’t hear it; only Harry could, so I pretended I couldn’t. He would have thought I was crazy and asked who I heard, but I couldn’t tell them, I couldn’t!” Her voice was slowly becoming muffled and weak as her tears subsided.

“You’re crazy, Mya. I believe you, you can tell me about it,” he murmured, his voice alarmingly soft. But he didn’t care. Everything was fading away, his family, his friends, and his responsibility. Suddenly her welfare was more important than his own.

“I don’t want to pretend anymore, I don’t want to be sad. He told me not to be. He told me to move on if anything happened to him. But I can’t. Draco, I can’t forget. It’s impossible.” He pressed his hand on the small of her back, once again amazed that he was in this situation. Yet he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“It’s okay. It’s okay, I’m here. Draco’s here.” The idea that that would comfort her sounded comical, but it did. Her sobs continued to subside until the only trace of her melt down was the moisture soaking the sheets below them. Looking down he found she had cried herself to sleep.

Wow. Well, it explained a lot, but left him even more confused. ‘Who’ was answered, ‘what’ was next.

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“I hope you know that if you ever need to talk, I’m here to listen. Anytime, honestly,” Cedric told her as she sat down at the library table across from him.

“Thanks Cedric,” she responded, nervously picking at the hem of her long skirt, wondering what to say. He was reading a book about underwater magic. She didn’t ask why.

“Alright, spill Mya,” he said, sensing correctly that she was upset.

“Ron’s driving me crazy!” she started. “He just can’t understand that I’m a girl! He got all flustered because all of a sudden I’m pretty and relaxed! And he thinks I can’t make my own decisions and claims that Victor’s using me! Honestly, why is he so immature?” she ranted, gesturing wildly with her hands. Cedric watched without comment, giving her his full attention. It made her feel appreciated. “And Harry just refuses to take my side! Why doesn’t anyone think of what I want?” She gave up and rested her forehead against the desk, seething.

“Stop eating the table, you don’t want splinters on your face,” he advised with a small smile. She reluctantly pulled her head back up to watch him warily. “First of all, ignore Weasely. He’s just annoyed that he didn’t catch you first.” She grimaced. “Believe me, he just has a weird way of showing it. Second of all, of course Harry sides with Weasely, he’s his best friend, and he’s also angry. As you said, Weasely is immature and doesn’t understand you.” She glared halfheartedly at him. He hastily added, “Because you’re a girl, and he’s just a confused hormonal boy. Just ignore him. And last, people do care about what you want. I care about what you want. So what do you want?” He finished, never taking his eyes off her, book abandoned.

“I don’t actually know.”

Hermione opened her eyes once again, smiling slightly at yet another memory of Cedric. What she saw was not what she expected. Draco Malfoy was asleep, lying on his back, with his arm wrapped loosely around her waist, his fingers lightly pressed against her bellybutton. Her cheek was pressed against his stomach, and his skin was warm and comforting. It was either very, very early or very, very late, and he was still blissfully asleep. With a gasp of horror, she realized she had cried herself to sleep. And he knew. He mumbled sleepily,

“Wait Mya.” He was dreaming about her? How odd. Hopefully it was nothing bad or “mature”. Eh, whatever, it was his subconscious. He was still asleep, but he enunciated his words clearly. “The lake, please.” Maybe he was reliving the memory of them on the lake? Maybe it was none of her business. She settled her head back down on his chest, not really caring that her nose was only inches away from the elastic of his boxers. All thoughts of Draco and Cedric dropped out her mind as she fell back into slumber.

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“You’re back,” Draco noted as he looked across the rowboat to see Hermione. She blinked at him, chocolate eyes looking slightly green.

“Apparently,” she responded, as he noticed that she was her normal age for once. “Did you think I wouldn’t be?” He shrugged, sliding a finger over a crease in his black jeans. “Would you like me to leave?”

“No, stay,” he told her softly, looking fascinated by a loose strand he had found below his knee. “It’s nice to have company.”

“Alright.” He nodded as she shifted to sit cross-legged on the back rim of the boat. Then quietly she told him, “You shouldn’t be afraid of Cedric.” He jerked his head up, startled. She looked calmly back at him, face impassive.

“Why would I be afraid of Diggory?”

“Because I really care about him, and you wish I felt that way about you.” He twitched anxiously as she placidly looked him up and down. “You shouldn’t worry.”

“Why shouldn’t I worry?” he rocketed back, but she retained her peaceful demeanor.

“I’ll feel that way about you soon enough, you just have to be patient, Draco.” He scoffed, flicking back his fine hair out of habit.

“I doubt it, I’m nothing like Diggory. And you never got any closure.”

“You are a lot like Cedric, you just haven’t shown it. If I had no chance of falling in love with you, would Dumbledore tell you to cope with this? He would be out there looking for a cure. And think about this, Draco: I’ve opened up to you about things I’ve never even shared with Harry and Ron. I chose you. You alone can give me closure.”

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