Hermione sighed in exhaustion as she tucked her hair behind her ears. A steady ache was building in her temples, reminding her that out of the last thirty-six hours, she had only slept for two. She felt as though lead had replaced all the blood in her body. Countless defensive charms and jinxes swirled in her overtired mind, blending into long, unending streams of gibberish.
"That's the last of them. A mouse couldn‘t get out of this house without us knowing about it," another voice said. Reluctantly, she prised her eyes open and squinted at the person collapsed in the chair beside her. Ron looked even more tired than she felt, if such a thing was possible. Dark circles lined his eyes, and he yawned so hugely his jaw cracked.
"Don't," she murmured, resting her head on her arms. Her jaw itched in empathy.
"Don't what?" he replied as he finished.
"Yaw --" she began, only to be cut off by a yawn even bigger and longer than his. "'S contagious," she muttered sleepily as her yawn concluded. His lips quirked up in a quick smile, and he too folded his arms and dropped his head onto them.
"Hi," he whispered.
"Hi to you too," she mumbled back.
"You okay?"
"Mmm."
"It's just I noticed you weren't yourself this morning… is it Malfoy?"
Through the fog of tiredness, various parts of her brain began broadcasting warning signals. "What about Malfoy?"
"Well…it's a bit weird, having the real one back. I know you got kind of close to the other one… do you miss him?"
"A little. But he wasn't really real," she replied carefully.
"I just want you to know…I'm real, Hermione. Okay? So if you ever want anything, or need anything, I'm there." He slid his hand over hers where it lay right next to his face. She noticed sleepily that he still bit his nails.
"I know, Ron."
"I love you, Hermione," he said softly.
That kicked her back into wakefulness. "Ron…"
He raised his head and sat up a little. "You said we should wait. I know why you said it “ you were right about the dangers, as usual. But… but aren't some things worth a little danger? Wouldn't it be worth the risk just to be together?"
"Ron," Hermione protested, propping herself up on her elbow, "it's too late for this. We can talk about it later, when we've had some sleep."
"It's only nine o’clock," he pointed out stubbornly.
She pulled herself to her feet, irritation lancing though her weariness. "I'm going to bed."
He caught her arm. "If you won't consider it, then at least tell me again that you love me," he demanded.
She shook herself free. "I already told you, I'm too tired to talk about this."
His blue eyes bored into hers. "Three words won't take that much out of you."
"Oh, Ron!" she cried irritably. She stalked out of the room, uncomfortably aware of his hurt face as the door swung shut behind her.
Arrogant, chauvinistic idiot, she fumed. Does he think I have nothing better to do than pamper his ego? Anyway, I never said I loved him. I may “ I do have strong feelings for him, but I've told him about what I think about people randomly declaring themselves in love. It's ridiculous.
Coherent thought became increasingly difficult as she staggered up to the top floor where her room was, down a little corridor from Malfoy's. It was like trying to wade through waist-thick soup. She paused for a moment outside Malfoy's door, rubbing at her eyes in the vain hope it would keep her awake a little longer.
Strangely, now that she was so close to her room she was feeling a perverse inclination against going to bed. A reckless desire awoke in her to check on Malfoy, see him one last time before she went to sleep. Common sense screamed that she was too tired, he could overpower her and take her wand, but she ignored it, unlocked the door and gave it a gentle push.
The fading daylight cast faint shadows over the figure sprawled across the bed. His chest, wrapped in blankets, rose and fell softly as he breathed the deep breaths of sleep. One bare leg dangled off the bed from the knee, while his head rested on one of his slender hands. His dark hair hung down over his face, half-covering the ugly bruise on his forehead. The eyes that she had found so hard to meet earlier were closed, dark lashes brushing his cheek. Hermione felt his heart clench at seeing his face so peaceful, so relaxed.
He frowned suddenly in his sleep, his hand clenching the pillow tightly. A sound she would have thought a whimper had she heard it anywhere else escaped his lips and his body twisted, arching into the air as he cried out in obvious distress before collapsing to the bed again.
"No…" he moaned, his voice rising in a crescendo as his face contorted with pain.
Hermione froze for a moment in shock. Harry and Ron had said he had nightmares, but this bad? This was far worse than she had ever imagined. In a few steps she was beside his bed.
“Malfoy!” she hissed. The lines on his forehead intensified, and he began muttering feverishly.
Hermione glanced helplessly around, unsure of what to do. She dithered for a moment, then seized his bare shoulder and shook him.
“Malfoy, wake up!”
Shadows flickered in the lamp-lit corridors of Hogwarts. For a moment, Draco wondered why he was there. Shouldn’t he be… but the thought faded away quickly, leaving him oddly certain. Of course he should be here; he was a Prefect, wasn’t he, and needed to patrol -- though he didn't know why he was standing around in what was a strangely unfamiliar part of Hogwarts. He glanced down a corridor to his left. He should be heading towards the Entrance Hall, but something enticed him down this corridor. He felt a growing curiosity as he stared down its unlit length, sure he could see something moving in the shadows. He began walking, then running, trying to appease the gnawing longing. He thought he saw the end of a black cloak disappear around the next corner. He ran and ran, footsteps echoing in the strangely empty castle. Yet try as he might, he could never catch more than a glimpse of his quarry.
He rounded yet another corner, and spotted a flash of brown hair disappearing through a little door. For a second he was confused “ surely that door hadn’t been there before? “ but his relentless longing to catch this fleeing shadow drove him on. He strode to the door and reached out his hand to push the grainy wood. Yet the moment his fingers touched it, the door changed. What had been solid oak became planks of crumbling, rotten wood in a door that looked as though a breath would knock it off its hinges. He hesitated and pulled back his hand, unwilling to enter such a foreboding portal, but the memory of the enticing figure was too alluring. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.
A small moonlit room met his eyes. Rickety furniture lay scattered on the wooden floor, most broken, all old. Dust lay in a thick blanket across the entire room, undisturbed by anything except the tiny paw-prints of rats. There was no sign of the mysterious person he was pursuing. Draco took a few steps forward, trying to see if there was another way out that they could have taken. He jumped as the door creaked shut behind him.
The full moon shone in the broken window, its light glinting off the eyes of a rat that scuttled under a dilapidated chair. Draco turned slowly on the spot, the consuming longing in his stomach begging him to keep looking, no matter what “
Suddenly the door behind him slammed open so hard its rotten hinges gave way, sending it splintering to the floor. A tall figure stood in the doorway, pale skin glinting in the moonlight, red-tinted eyes alight with triumph.
“So this is where you’ve been hiding from me, Draco,” he hissed, his voice silky smooth.
Draco fell to his knees as the Dark Lord‘s slow footsteps sent clouds of dust into the air. Terror tugged at his vocal chords, tangling them in knots. “My lord… I’m sorry…” he choked out. A wand poked the soft skin of his neck and he flinched, awaiting the deadly words that would send him to oblivion. The smooth wood caught his chin and forced it upwards. Reluctantly, he looked into the insane eyes of his master.
“You have disappointed me, Draco,” the Dark Lord said softly. “Bad enough that you did not carry out my orders, that you did not kill the old fool even when he was at your mercy, but then to run away? That was foolish, Draco, very foolish.”
Draco let out a strangled sound as the wand pressed harder against his throat.. “My lord, please don’t… I didn’t mean….” His voice shook so hard he couldn’t even finish the sentence. The Dark Lord looked at him with contempt.
“Where is Severus Snape?” His high voice and sharp and icy cold. Draco looked at him in panic. “I know he brought you here. Tell me!” Draco tried to remember, but everything was such a blur. Terror fogged his thoughts; he knew that Snape had brought him here and told him not to leave before he came back, but what had he said then? Something about a place, Grimmauld Place! He opened his mouth to speak, but the words wouldn’t come out. Frantically he tried again but the words caught in his throat.
The Dark Lord’s eyes flashed in irritation. “Crucio!” he snarled.
Draco fell backwards, his eyes rolling in his head, hands curled into claws as unbelievably intense agony surged through his body. Scream after scream ripped through his throat until he was sure he was torn in two, it wouldn’t stop, it would never stop, he would just scream and scream until he died…
After an eternity, the pain began to ebb away. Draco lay on the floor, gasping and sobbing as tremors of pain, the aftermath of the curse, shook his body.
“I will not ask you again, Draco. Where is Severus Snape?” the dreaded voice said. Draco gulped, trying to strangle the sobs that still rose in his throat.
“My lord,” he croaked, “I don’t know where he is.” The Dark Lord’s eyebrows rose and he lifted his wand. Draco began gabbling, his voice rising hysterically as he tried to forestall the pain. “Really! He never told me! All he said was to stay here, I swear. I swear! PLEASE!”
The wand twitched and Draco collapsed once more, writhing in excruciating agony. Oh please oh please oh please STOP! he screamed, though whether in his mind or out loud he could not tell. Take me away from here, anyway, just not here, away away away… The pain intensified and he howled. I want to go home, go home now, be safe. A vision of Malfoy Manor rose in his mind, in his large airy room with its silk sheets and thickly carpeted floors. With all his heart he wished he was there.
A sudden feeling of compression surpassed even the pain, as though there were steel bands wrapped around his torso that tightened more and more…
“Draco!”
He shot upwards in the bed, chest heaving, heart pounding so hard it felt like it would burst free of his chest. He clenched his fists and breathed deeply, willing away the awful afterimages. It was just a dream, he told himself. Just a nightmare. Yet it had been just as clear as the night that“
“Are you all right?”
He jumped and realised with a sinking heart that Granger was right beside him. Had he been talking in his sleep? His cheeks burned at the thought that she might have heard him.
“Fine,” he muttered.
“Only… could you let go of my hand, please?”
“I’m not“” He glanced down and realised that he had her wrist tightly in his grasp. He snatched his hand away as though it had been burned.
Granger rubbed her wrist, still looking at him in curiosity and . . . was that pity he saw?
“Malfoy, are you sure you’re all right?” she asked him hesitantly. “I “ I heard you screaming.” Draco bit back a groan. Perfect, Malfoy, just perfect, he fumed.
“None of your business,” he growled. His heart was gradually settling down by now, no longer trying to break out through his ears.
Her eyes narrowed. “Fine,” she said coldly, and left.
Draco lay back down and ran his trembling hands through his hair. Images of that crazed face leaped at him whenever he closed his eyes. He shivered.
If I go back, the Dark Lord will kill me. I have nowhere to go. The icy realisation slid into his stomach. He couldn’t stay here with Potter “ there was no telling what they might do to him! “ but if he escaped, where could he go?
His heavy eyelids began to sink, but he forced them open again. I can’t sleep. Must stay awake. Bad dreams. Must not….
Sleep.
The sun peeked in through a crack in the heavy shutters. Hermione watched lazily as motes of dust swirled in the golden air. Sometimes she wished she could stay forever in that dreamy state between sleeping and waking, enjoying her snug bed and the soft light without the worries and cares of life heaped upon her.
She particularly didn’t want to get up today after that little talk with Ron last night. The flush of irritation that accompanied that memory swept the last cobwebs of sleep from her mind. Reluctantly she drew her bare feet into the open air and onto the threadbare carpet. As she made the bed, she couldn’t help wondering why Professor McGonagall lived in a house that was, not to put too fine a point on it, uncared for.
The kitchen was empty when she finally got downstairs, dragging a brush through her unruly hair. The silence and peace after the last day of chaos was restful. Hermione set about making herself some toast and was just spreading butter onto it when Harry walked in the door, yawning hugely.
“Morning,” she said casually, taking a bite of toast.
“Morning.” He sat down in the chair opposite her and ran his hands through his hair, making it even messier than usual.
“So,” she began, “what’s next?”
Harry shrugged. “Wish I knew. Lupin and the rest of the Order want us to baby-sit Malfoy.”
“Have you told them where you think the next Horcrux is “ Ravenclaw’s tiara, I mean ?” she asked, lowering her voice. Harry had written to her in a state of great excitement earlier that year as he told her about the mysterious diadem he had seen in the Room of Requirement earlier that year. Harry shook his head. “Harry, I really think you should. It can’t do any harm, can it?”
“You mean, they can’t decide to lock us up forever?” Harry snorted.
“They kind of already have,” she pointed out. “If you explain, maybe they can help! After all, that’s what the Order is there for “ to get rid of Voldemort. How can they help if you won’t let them know what’s going on?”
“Stop it,” Harry muttered. She blinked, surprised.
“Stop what?”
“Being practical and sensible.” He gave her a half-grin to let her know he was joking. “You’re right… it’s just I’m afraid they won’t let me go if they think I’m going to be hunting Voldemort down.”
“It’s only because they love you, Harry,” Hermione said softly.
“I know. That’s what makes it so hard.”
Hermione opened her mouth to comfort him, but just at that moment Ron walked in. Pointedly ignoring Hermione, he said “Alright, mate?” to Harry, grabbed and apple and slouched out of the room. Hermione bit her lip in irritation.
“What?” she snapped, seeing Harry looking at her with his eyebrows raised. He rolled his eyes but said nothing.
“Ron is being such a prat, I can’t believe it!” Hermione fumed. Harry gave his breakfast far more attention than burnt porridge ever deserves.
“How dare he ignore me like that!” Hermione snatched up her toast and took a violent bite out of it. “He needs to grow up. We’re not twelve any more, he can’t just ignore me and sulk every time we have a disagreement.” She shot Harry an angry look. “Don’t tell me you’re on his side!”
“Mpf!” Harry almost choked on a mouthful of porridge as he hastened to re-assure her. “I’m on no-one’s side , since I have no idea what you’re fighting about “ and I don’t want to know!” he added as she began her indignant explanation.
Hermione huffed and began buttering toast with such vigour that the knife sliced right through the bread.
“Er… didn’t you eat already, Hermione?” Harry asked cautiously.
“This is for Malfoy,” Hermione informed him coldly. As she poured tea into a chipped mug, Lupin walked in the door.
Water dripped off his nose, and as he swept his hands through his hair a sheet of water fell to the floor. He left a trail of puddles behind him and his robes hung in sodden folds from his haggard frame.
“Lupin!” Hermione gasped. “What happened?”
He smiled ruefully. “I was just about to Apparate to the woods behind the house when I was… distracted… by some Death Eaters appearing. I missed my destination and ended up in the sea. I had to swim in “ not much fun when the water is this cold, I can tell you!”
“We’re by the sea?” Hermione asked in surprise.
“Yeah, of course! Didn’t you notice, Hermione?” Harry asked. “It’s all you can see from the front windows.”
“Oh,” Hermione said, feeling rather foolish. “I was mostly working on the back of the house… and I wasn’t really looking at the view.”
“Who does, these days?” Lupin pulled out a chair for himself and sat down. “Is that tea you have there, Hermione?” She poured him a cup, and he drank the steaming liquid with his eyes closed as though it was the elixir of life.
“So what’s going to happen with Malfoy?” Harry prompted after a few moments of silence. Lupin grimaced.
“I wish I knew,” he said wearily, setting his cup down on the table. “We need to find out where he’s been, and how he ended up near Hermione’s house. But he won’t talk. Or at least he wouldn’t yesterday. “ He sighed and stood up. “I suppose I’d better give it another try.” He began walking towards the door, but Harry stopped him.
“Hermione can get him “ can’t you?” he asked, nodding almost imperceptibly towards Lupin. Thank God, he’s finally seen sense! Hermione rejoiced as she nodded and left. She had begun to worry that Harry would never let anyone else in on his plans for the Horcruxes. Snape’s betrayal had shocked them all last year, and Hermione was sure she had seen a few signs of mistrust creeping into the Order.
She took a firm grip on her wand as she unlocked the door and pushed it open. Malfoy sat at the end of his bed, staring blankly out the window. His head whipped around the door creaked open and he stood, quickly assuming the same arrogant pose she had almost forgotten in the last few weeks.
“Planning to starve me to death, were you?” His eyes flicked her up and down, and Hermione suddenly became aware of how faded her jeans were, how plain her t-shirt was.
Get a grip, she told herself sternly. You’re just not used to this. Toughen up!
“This way, Malfoy,” she said coldly, taking a half-step out of the door.
“Why should I come with you, Granger?” he asked, lip curling. The familiar expression sent an unexpected stab through her as she remembered the easy smile he had turned on her only a few short days ago. Hermione said nothing, but shifted her grip on her wand meaningfully. He turned his eyes to the piece of wood she held so threateningly in his direction.
“You going to try to curse me?” he sneered.
“In about two seconds if you don’t move it,” she said coolly. His lips tightened, but he walked out of the room anyway. Hermione followed just behind him, her knuckles white against the wand in case he tried to snatch it from her.
He descended the first short flight with exaggerated slowness. Hermione resisted the urge to let a Stinging Hex fly at him in a place that would be most uncomfortable.
“Any time this year, Malfoy,” she said through gritted teeth. She caught a glimpse of a smirk on his face as he crossed before the dusty mirror.
Without warning he stopped dead. Hermione collided with him. Opening her mouth to snap at him, she saw a look of shock and horror spread across his face. He reached up his hand and traced it through his hair.
“What the hell happened to my hair?” he said in a breathless whisper that ended in a squeak.
Biting back a giggle, Hermione asked him, “Didn’t you know?”
“What do you think, Granger?” He stepped backwards, the familiar sneer returning to his face after the initial shock. “While getting my memory wiped, captured by enemies, locked in a room and starved, I wasn’t exactly worried about my hair changing colour!”
“I meant did you know how it happened in the first place!” Hermione snapped. He glanced at her for a moment; she could see his grey eyes weighing her up and finding her lacking.
“None of your business, Mudblood,” he said contemptuously.
Quick as a flash, Hermione raised his wand and jabbed it towards his face. Malfoy jerked backwards.
“I have had it up to here!” she snarled, snapping her fingers at eye level. “In the last two days I have been insulted, almost collapsed from tiredness, fought with my best friend, been attacked by Death Eaters and my worst enemy ki“” She stopped just before her mouth could run away with her. She felt the colour rising in her cheeks as Malfoy eyed her curiously.
“Just get down the stairs!” she snapped. Without a word he turned and walked down the stairs. Hermione followed more slowly. I can’t believe I almost said that; oh God, what if he guesses? Oh, I’m such an idiot!.
She took a deep breath. Just a few more days, she told herself. Put up with him and these strange feelings for a little while longer, then you’ll be off hunting Horcruxes and forget all about him.
Little did she suspect how very wrong she would be.
My Name is Draco Malfoy... I Think by mooncalf
Chapter Notes: Apologies yet again for the long delay, I was struck down by a most dreadful bout of writer’s block, something I’m very prone to. Thanks as usual to my wonderful beta, Hatusu.