Magnetic Attraction - Chapter Twenty

Chapter 20: WWCD? (What Would Cedric Do?)

Draco Malfoy was not an idiot. He knew that it was completely within reason to believe that Hermione was so focused on planning the Yule Ball that she had forgotten to take care of herself. He also knew that she was stubborn, and though she had learned how to share her workload with others years ago, she would lash out at anyone who tried to talk to her about her lack of eating. Finally, he knew that were the Weasleys, Potter, or McKay and her merry band of romantics foolish enough to attempt such a feat, it could very well lead Hermione to yet another breakdown.
They were friends now, at least by title, and if he was the only one who could talk to her reasonably, then perhaps he should try to. But he knew that if he came off as threatening, he would only make things worse for both of them. So at the end of the final prefect meeting, a week before the end of term and two weeks before the ball, he remained in his seat as everyone else left. Hermione had not yet bolted and was talking to a fifth year about when they would be setting up the karaoke stage. Draco waited for their conversation to end, calming considering what to say. He had gone over this for a while now, and wouldn’t mess it up.
The fifth year bid Hermione goodbye, seeming content, and the Head Girl turned back around to face the table, starting when she saw Draco had yet to leave the room. She found his expression very hard to read but knew that whatever he was going to say next would not be idle conversation. Trying to discourage him from speaking, she quickly walked back to her chair and snatched up her bag. He stood up as she began to rush away, and, without anticipating her reaction, coiled his fingers around her wrist before the brunette could take a step towards the door. Predictably, she jolted away and attempted to yank back her arm. In the interest of not appearing threatening, Draco let go quickly.
Hermione whirled around, already furious and scowling. Slightly frightened by her already hostile expression, he held up both hands, palms out in a gesture of peace. She softened, her stiff shoulders relaxing and snarl losing its intensity.
She frowned and said quietly, “Sorry, I’ve been on edge lately.”
He smirked as he responded, “I can see that.”
The Head Girl wasn’t sure if she should be mad at his comment and merely settled for a distracted grimace. “Now what did you find so important that you needed to scare the living crap out of me?”
Draco rolled his eyes, stepping an exaggerated foot backwards. She waited patiently for him to speak, genuinely curious now that her surprise had subsided. He hadn’t tried to talk to her about anything other than the ball for the past few weeks, so this had to be important.
“Am I not allowed to seek the pleasure of your company?” he teased, smiling innocently.
Hermione struggled to adopt a matching happy expression, his words biting at her heart. He was flirting. Perhaps he didn’t even notice, but she did. And though she pretended she was over the blond Slytherin, she knew that she wasn’t. Her hope that distance might help had failed a while ago, and the fact that she had to stand next to him and pretend everything was fine hurt. His sentence fell flat at her lack of response, and his smile sank into an awkward frown to match the growing awkward silence.
“Alright fine,” he started over. “I’m speaking on behalf of the Weaselette. She’s worried about you.” He watched anxiously as Hermione’s face twisted into a betrayed frown, her eyebrows knitting together.
Since when has Ginny discussed my well being with Draco? Hermione wondered, and she quickly came to a fairly accurate conclusion. She wants us back together. That little traitor!
“What possible reason would she have to be worried about me?” she blurted out.
“Apparently she has reason to believe that you aren’t eating as much as you should be,” he informed her, speaking slowly to discourage her from working herself up. She did anyway.
Hermione scoffed and dropped her book-bag so as to be free to gesture madly with her hands. One was placed on her hip while the other hovered half extended at her side as she exclaimed, “I eat perfectly well! What does she think? That I have an eating disorder? This is silly! I eat three meals a day with them, every single day of the year!”
Draco bit his lip in hesitation, considering whether he should engage in the argument she was obviously seeking, or to reassure her with blatant lies that she was eating fine and that they were just moronic Gryffindors. Deciding that backing off wouldn’t help her in the slightest, he countered, “What’s the last meal you ate?”
She crossed her arms over her chest, rising to his bait. “Lunch today.”
He resisted the urge to smirk as he asked, “And what did you have?” He continued as she struggled to remember, “Salad? You always liked salad, Caesar in particular. Or maybe a sandwich? They were fairly rubbery today, but good nonetheless. Perhaps you just had some of that soup?” He was talking for the mere reason to win now, forgetting the fact that he was doing this to help her. “Or did you read your book on decorating? Or review your NEWT Potions notes? Or just rest your head on your hand and try to regain some of the sleep you’re probably not getting lately?”
Hermione tried frantically to remember what she had eaten but found she couldn’t think of anything she had really eaten since she’d gotten out of the hospital wing. What had she done just a few hours ago during lunch? I was reading my Charms notes. Then I vanished my meal so that Ron wouldn’t tease me about worrying about my weight. But I wasn’t doing anything wrong, was I? Just how often do I vanish my meals? Surely not that often.
“I have to go,” she whispered, wide-eyed. She snatched the handle of her bag and turned to rush for the door. Draco called out after her, but she was gone before he could think of what to do.
“Well I guess that answers that question,” he said aloud to himself, realizing that helping Hermione out of her latest self-created mess was now his responsibility. He followed her back to their dorm and couldn’t help but feel a little pleased as he walked by her closed door. He had just found himself back in her life, and had to say that he wasn’t unhappy with the news.

Hermione didn’t get that much sleep that night. She spent most of the night listening to her charmed iPod and half-heartedly reviewing her notes on the Yule Ball. Whenever her mind wandered, however, it wandered to the boy sleeping in the next room, and what his interest in her could possibly be in their post-attraction situation.
We’re friends now, she mocked bitterly, lying on her back in bed. She stared up at her canopy, her iPod playing something random and muffled in the background. Friends who are too afraid to approach each other for fear of more awkward silences. Friends who secretly love each other and who wish the world wasn’t so messed up. She sat up and turned off her iPod before carelessly shoving everything off her bed. Parchment and books fanned out and landed with a series of dull thuds on the floor, but she couldn’t find the energy to get up and sort everything out. Collapsing into her pillows, she closed her eyes and pressed the side of her face against her arm.
It was in moments like this that she missed Cedric. She hadn’t thought about him often in the past few weeks, but now, when she was confused and so lonely that she couldn’t think straight, she missed his simple logic and comforting hugs. Had she loved him? She didn’t know. But she had depended on him when her life was chaotic and her life had been without a center until she had found Draco. She didn’t have Draco now and though her life wasn’t as busy and troublesome as it had been while Voldemort had been growing in strength, she was still stressed and exhausted. Everyone had a match, a person to turn to, except her. Harry had Ginny and Hermione would never wish them any unhappiness. As fake as Lavender and Ron were, they were happy with their fake teenage relationship of drama and deceit. Even Christine was flirting with Neville, and she thought they would be an adorable couple if one ever got up the nerve to ask the other out.
For a while she had had Draco, and they had shared each other’s burdens. She had listened to him talk about his parents on the rare occasion when he felt the urge to unwind. Likewise he had respected her late mourning of Cedric and been more respectful than she believed Harry and Ron could ever be. He had been an unexpected relief, a miracle, and she missed him, too. He was so close and yet so far away.
It wasn’t fair. She loved him. She knew she did. She hated sitting next to him once a week during meetings and pretending she hated him like every other Gryffindor. She hated listening to Ron badmouth him each evening in the common room. She just hated everything. With Draco everything had fit. Without him, everything was like a puzzle that just wouldn’t match up.
What would Cedric do? She asked herself idly, and the answer came to her quickly. He would ignore what everyone else said or thought. He’d go after the one he wanted. Maybe she should do the same.
But how?
The ball. It was soon, two weeks away. Should I ask him to be my date? No, too public. But what’s wrong with public? It would scare him off. He cared about his reputation, and perhaps being her date would be too much for him. Well, then what?
The idea that came to her was brilliant. She smiled as she reminded herself to talk to Luna the next day about it. Then she drifted off to sleep.

Draco put his plan into action the very next morning. He got up and prepared for his morning classes before going into the kitchenette and calling up two plates of bacon and eggs from the kitchens down below. Once they were delivered up by a courteous house elf, he arranged them at the small kitchen table where he and Hermione had eaten during the attraction. He poured them each a glass of ice water and set up a pitcher of milk on the counter, just in case she wanted it. Then he sat down in one of the wooden chairs to wait, pulling out a Princess Diaries novel that he had pilfered from Hermione’s rooms earlier in the week upon getting bored.
A third of the way through Princess in Waiting, Hermione stepped out of her room looking tired but determined. She didn’t notice him and strode towards the door once again.
“Granger!” he called out to her pleasantly once the purple book was safely hidden in his book bag under the table. Predictably, she stiffened and turned slowly around, seeming wary. Upon seeing the two matching plates of food, she fell upon the correct conclusion that he was still bent on this ‘Hermione doesn’t eat’ plan. Well, he cared. That was a small victory in itself.
“Good morning,” she said carefully, taking a step backwards. Draco stood up and walked around the table towards her. “I’m sorry but I must be going, I wanted to consult Professor McGonagall about the-,”
“Have breakfast with me,” he said slowly, interrupting. She stopped talking immediately, her hand frozen on the latch of the portrait. If she had been girly enough to let her imagination run loose, she could have said that there was a note of pleading in his voice, and that his eyes had a shine of desperation. Perhaps if she had been more girly, she would have realized that he was seeking her company. Perhaps if she had been less defensive, she would have allowed herself this small victory. However as it stood, Hermione Granger found her self-respect a step above her love for Draco Malfoy, and this was a primary obstacle in the way of them being happy together.
“I can’t,” she whined. It wasn’t because she didn’t have time; she believed that if she had breakfast with him, it would be admitting she had an eating disorder, which she refused to admit she did. But really, on a subconscious level, she just couldn’t allow herself to be vulnerable. Not yet at least.
“Oh come on, what’s stopping you?” Draco protested, marching across the room towards her. She backed up against the wall, refusing to let herself cave. But Merlin did she want to. “Are you worried that Potter will find out? Or Weasley? Or are you scared that by spending more than a second with me, you’ll be unable to pretend nothing happened between us?” Hermione gasped, unable to recall when his pleading had turned into something else, something about them.
She had to go.
“I can’t do this,” she forced out, her voice wavering and choppy. His face crumbled, showing his disappointment and hurt.
He ground out, “Granger. Eat. The. Fucking. Food.” He pointed at the table, his silver eyes locking with hers. He already knew his attempt was feeble.
“I’m sorry,” she said honestly before she turned her back to him and opened the portrait hole, leaving him standing alone in the middle of the room.
Once she was out in the hallway, the portrait closed behind her, she yelled out in frustration, “I’m such an IDIOT!”
At breakfast she sat down across from Ginny, and she made a big show of eating her breakfast of bacon, eggs, and waffles slowly. She savored every bite and knew Draco was watching. He had succeeded in more than one way. The first was that she was eating.
The second was that he had made her think.
‘Or are you scared that by spending more than a second with me, you’ll be unable to pretend nothing happened between us?’
She wouldn’t be able to pretend anymore.