Hermione awoke reluctantly, wishing that she could’ve slept longer. She had had that dream again, and as always, hated to see it end. My subconscious is so cruel…she thought. Why can’t I just see his face? But while she loved this dream, she was curious. Why was she having a recurring dream? And why this one? Before she could think about it anymore, her thoughts were interrupted by the soft, but ecstatic voice of Parvati.
“Seamus invited me to his house for the holidays!”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” asked Lavender, who was also awake. She sounded hurt that she didn’t know this information already.
“He only asked me last night. I was going to tell you, but you were already asleep.”
“You could’ve woken me up…” Hermione heard Parvati sigh at Lavender’s response, and chose this moment to open the curtains that surrounded her.
“G’morning girls,” she said sleepily while she crawled out of bed.
“Morning, Hermione!” Lavender replied brightly as she walked towards the bathroom with her school clothes in her hands.
“So, Parvati, Seamus asked you to stay with him for Christmas?” Hermione asked while trying to find her socks.
“Yes!” she squealed, “Oh, I hope that Mum and Dad will say it’s okay. Padma’s going home, and so they might want me to come home too.”
“I’m sure they’ll let you go,” Hermione replied, although somewhat absentmindedly. She had found one sock, and was now looking for its mate. Eventually she found it and gathered up the rest of her clothes. She walked into the bathroom, and after making sure a towel was within reach, she stepped into the shower.
As the warm water washed over her, her mind wandered back to the previous night. She still couldn’t believe that Malfoy had opened up, and to her of all people. He had told her everything there was to tell, cried, and accepted her sympathy. I really was spot on with that one, she thought. He is different, and the tragedy of his life caused that. She couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. He had lost everything to help the good side, and even he didn’t know why he risked it.
Hermione turned the water off and grabbed the nearby towel. After drying off, she wrapped the towel around her and walked out of the shower. She dressed quickly and sat down at her vanity, right next to Lavender. The girl seemed deep in thought, but after glancing at Hermione, she spoke.
“What’s Ron’s house like?”
Hermione smiled, as she was used to Lavender’s questions about Ron and his home life. At first Lavender had been jealous of how close the two were, but soon learned that there was definitely nothing more than friendship between them. Lately she had been asking Hermione a lot more questions than usual. Apparently, Ron didn’t talk about home all that much. Lavender wasn’t sure why, but Hermione knew it was because he was still embarrassed about his lack of wealth.
“It’s lovely. Tiny and cozy, and so interesting that you could spend months there and still find new things. It’s always full of great smells too. Mrs. Weasley is the best cook that I know.” A smile had spread on Hermione’s face as she spoke. There were tons of great memories that she had from The Burrow. Lavender smiled too, but then frowned slightly.
“I hope he invites me to go there for Christmas. He hasn’t even mentioned Christmas yet, and it’s less than a month away,” Lavender’s frown deepened, and she looked at Hermione.
“How about I drop the hint to him for you, Lavender? Sometimes he just needs a little help.”
Lavender smiled gratefully and said thank you as she walked back into the dormitory. Hermione turned her attention back to herself. Gazing at her mess of hair, she grimaced. Try as she might to tame it, she was never all that successful. Occasionally she would charm it but soon the spell would wear off and her hair would regain its bushiness. Today she decided just to run a brush through it and wrestle it back into a ponytail. After doing so, she inspected her face for spots. Satisfied with her skin, she brushed her teeth and put on some lip balm. Knowing that she didn’t need anything more than that, she walked back to her bed and folded her pajamas. The house elves may insist on making my bed, she thought (she had tried to make it once but came back to find that it had been remade), but at least I can do this.
Grabbing her school bag, Hermione walked down to the common room where she was greeted by Harry.
“Hey Hermione,” he said, “Where’d you run off to last night? You never came to dinner.”
Hermione wasn’t quite sure how she should answer that question. She was saved though, by Ron walking toward the two of them. Inwardly she sighed in relief, and she smiled at the redhead.
“Good morning, Ron!” she said brightly, but got no response. Ron brushed past her and went to talk to Dean. Hermione gazed at him for a moment, and turned back to Harry, hurt written across her face.
“Don’t worry about it. He’s still a little worked up about the fight you two had last night. I talked to him, and he should be over it by dinner. Maybe lunch, if we’re lucky.” Harry gave Hermione a reassuring smile, and they stepped through the portrait hole to go to breakfast. She suddenly noticed the absence of Harry’s girlfriend.
“Where’s Ginny?”
“She’s already at breakfast. Now, Hermione, will you please tell me where you went last night? I was worried about you.”
A knot tied up in Hermione’s stomach. Should she really tell him what happened last night? No doubt Malfoy would be upset if she told Harry. But…she thought, what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him. And she knew she could trust Harry with the information.
“I went out to the lake…and I had a bit of a run-in with Malfoy.” Harry stopped in his tracks, anger heating his face.
“Malfoy? Did he do anything to you? I swear I’ll hex him into next year if he did!”
“Well, I guess he kind of did something,” Hermione contemplated, and then saw how furious Harry looked, “But it was nothing like that, Harry! He didn’t hurt me! He…he…erm…told me a very sad story.”
Hermione spent the next ten minutes telling Harry exactly what had happened out at the lake. She hesitated for a moment before telling him that she held Malfoy while he cried, but it came out anyway. She described how she had soothed him, and that her song had made his tears stop. By the end of her tale, Harry had a very interesting look on face and Hermione couldn’t tell what it meant.
“Harry? Harry, please say something.” Harry looked her in the eye, and she could see the shock in his eyes.
“He told Dumbledore? It was him?”
“Yes.”
“And Voldemort killed his parents?”
“Yes.”
“And Dumbledore kept him safe?”
“Yes, Harry. Why are you making me repeat myself?”
“It’s just…wow,” he let out a low whistle, “You were right.”
“I guess so,” she replied, feeling her cheeks flush slightly, “but I didn’t know that he did that.”
“I don’t think anyone would’ve guessed that, Hermione. He’s a Malfoy, and no one would expect that from a Malfoy.”
The pair walked in silence the rest of the way to the Great Hall. Hermione was happy that she told Harry what had happened. He was the type of person who would understand. She would tell Ginny soon, but she would need a longer amount of time to convince her that Malfoy wasn’t so bad. It was his father, after all, who had secretly given her Tom Riddle’s diary. As for Ron, well, she’d have to wait a while until she could tell him. He would be too stubborn about it, and they’d probably end up fighting again.
At last they reached the doors to the Great Hall, but Hermione put out a hand to stop Harry.
“Please don’t tell Ron, Harry. He wouldn’t understand, not yet anyway. I’ll tell Ginny later.”
Harry nodded in response, and the two walked toward the Gryffindor table, absolutely famished.
Draco saw her as she walked in with Potter. She sat down with her back to him, but he could tell that she was laughing at something that Ginny Weasley had just said. He gazed at her for a few more moments, and then returned to eating. He was alone at the Slytherin table, as usual, but he didn’t feel as isolated as he had before. He had finally told someone what had happened, and that was all that he needed to do.
A loud, musical laugh filled the air, and Draco looked up to see Hermione clutching her sides, shaking with laughter. He smiled, and realized that everything today seemed so much better than all of the days before. The sky seemed brighter, the laughter seemed louder, and the food seemed to taste better. He wondered if Hermione was the cause of this. If so, he liked it. The feeling felt a little strange, but it was nice to be happy again. Well, he thought, maybe happy isn’t the right word quite yet. But I’m a hell of a lot happier than I was before.
The rest of the day was pretty normal for Hermione. In Charms they continued to work on the Sleeping Charm nonverbally, which she had been the first to master after only three tries. Transfiguration was considerably harder, as they were changing pigs into dogs. Arithmancy was quite complicated, and Professor Vector set them an essay that had to be at least 18 inches long, due the following week. Her only other class that day, Ancient Runes, was spent reviewing what they had learned in the past two weeks.
During lunch, Hermione had met with Ginny in the back of the library, telling her exactly what she had told Harry. She didn’t look too convinced, but said that if Hermione felt that he was okay, then he was okay with her. After all, in all the years of his tormenting, it had been Hermione that he had hurt the most. If she could say that he had changed, then it was probably true.
Now, Hermione was trudging up the stairs from the Ancient Runes classroom to the Gryffindor common room. She was going to drop off her things, and then head on down to dinner. She was starving since she had only grabbed an apple for lunch, and wanted to get to the wonderful food as quickly as possible.
She gave the password to the Fat Lady, and darted through the common room and up the stairs. She threw her bag onto her bed, and paused for a moment to catch her breath. Then she skipped on down the stairs and walked very quickly through the common room, only stopping once to pick up Neville’s toad and hand it back to him. Finally she was back in the halls and making her way downstairs.
When she reached the third floor, she saw him. He was walking toward her, his long, lean body gliding quickly through the shadows. His blonde hair fell into his eyes, and he brushed it away with a flick of the wrist. When he was about five feet away from her, he stopped.
They looked at each other in silence for a while. His silvery, gray eyes searched deep within her brown ones. Like the night before, the silence was not awkward. Both of them realized in that moment that they understood each other, and that their relationship would never be the same again.
A loud crash from the floor below shook them back into reality. Draco flushed slightly, the pink contrasting with his pale skin. Hermione half-smiled, and began to walk away, but turned back around when she heard him speak.
“Wait.” Hermione could hear in his voice that he needed to say something. She nodded her head a little as a gesture for him to continue.
“Thank you.” And with a swish of his robes, he was gone.
She whooped in delight as she read the letter the owl had brought her. She had been hiding for far too long, and now she knew that in only a few months time, she could reveal herself. Continuing to whoop and laugh with glee, she hastily wrote a reply, and sent the owl off again.
Only a few more months, she thought, a wicked grin forming on her lips. Only a few more months, and that brat will wish he had never been born!