Water

Title: Water
Chapter Nineteen
Characters: Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger
Genres: Angst
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Sexual References
Summary: "...You’re the one who needs help! You’re the one who makes my skin crawl whenever we stand in the same room! You’re fucked up Malfoy. And your father couldn’t even teach you anything other than how to fuck up everyone else with you-” Her wand went flying.


Disclaimer: All these characters belong to JKR. I own nothing, much to my dismay, and make no money whatsoever out of this story!


WARNING: This chapter has yet to be read by my beta. Please excuse any mistakes and typos!


Chapter 19.

The shortest days were in Winter. The shortest, coldest, most moronic days of the year.

The sky was dotted with clouds, tinted pink by the rising sun, and Draco couldn’t feel his fingers. He could barely feel his arse as he sat there on the frost covered bench, looking out at the frost covered grass, the sun bouncing off the iced over lake and reflecting back out into the sky.

“How is he?”

She’d been sitting next to him for over an hour. They hadn’t exchanged one word in that time until Draco mumbled the barely coherent question through his frozen lips.

Hermione nodded. He only noticed this because he had turned his head to look at her slightly, subtly enough so that she wouldn’t see it. She was staring straight ahead, scarf wrapped around her neck, covering the bottom of her chin. He could see her breath hit the air in tiny, violent bursts as her lungs struggled against the cold.

Draco wanted to mutter something about not caring anyway. Because he didn’t care. He was only asking for her. Only asking if Potter had in any way recovered because he was trying to be, in a most pathetic sense he noted to himself, everything she may want him to be in that moment.

Which was laughable, considering he’d brought them to this moment by being everything she hadn’t wanted him to be in the first place.

When the sun started spreading it’s light, when the sky started glowing in that new day-new beginning sort of way, Draco always wanted to hurt something. Or someone. Whatever came naturally. Because that was just it. It wasn’t brand new or fresh. Just a bunch of little, meaningless, tortuous moments to float him to the grave.

Fuck new days and new beginnings, your past will shape your future and nothing else. No dreams. No hope to become something else. Someone different. Unfortunately for Draco, his past was his own private hell. No surprises therefore that as this new day broke, he was still living in it.

Only this time without a badge to distract him.

“Who do you reckon will replace me?”

She shrugged.

“Hermione?”

She licked her dry lips.

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

She didn’t say anything.

“Your lips will be even worse now.” Draco shivered. “I thought you were supposed to be smart, Granger.”

“Shut up, Malfoy.”

At least that got some kind of verbal response.

“No need to be rude.”

Hermione huffed into the freezing air. “Why are you talking like that?” she snapped, turning to him in a frustrated manner. “Your tone, it’s like- it’s like the past twelve hours never even happened.”

“What do you want me to do? Kill myself?”

“Don’t be an idiot.”

“Just because I’m not sitting here in sodding silence like you, Granger, mourning the bloody night like it’s buried in front of us.”

“Oh do forgive me for being ever so slightly subdued after everything that’s happened,” she spat sarcastically.

“Why did you come here then? Why not just sulk on your own if you didn’t have anything to say?” scowled Draco.

“Right. I’ll go then, shall I?”

“No. Don’t,” he answered quickly, too quickly, “I’m just fed up of the silence. I mean what good has fucking silence ever done any of us?”

Hermione stared in front of her. She shook her head after a moment. “God knows,” she muttered. “But sometimes you just…” Again, she shook her head. “Have no idea what to say. There’s so much inside me it’s like, the only way I could possibly do my feelings justice right now would be to not say anything at all. Because I’d just get it wrong. I’m feeling too much.”

“Very poetic.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Whatever.”

Draco sighed. He had no idea why he was being like that. He supposed he was frustrated. Exhausted. Very, very angry. He took a deep breath. “Is some of that…some of that feeling towards me?”

“That’s a stupid question,” she replied, “You may as well ask yourself did you play a part in anything that happened yesterday?”

Yesterday. It was already yesterday and yet it still felt like only an hour ago.

What the fuck was the point in making something of tomorrows. He just didn’t get it.

“I just meant- I just wanted to know…” He cleared his throat. It was hard, asking certain questions. Showing certain emotions. Draco had become the most vulnerable person he knew of, but that didn’t mean he would ever give in to showing it openly.

She turned to him. “Draco-”

“Do you hate me again?”

Hermione looked stunned for a second.

“I mean-” Draco cleared his throat, looking away from her, to the side slightly and down again. Oh god. “I mean after what happened… After what I did to Potter. Has it undone things? Stuff between us. I just- I need to know, Granger.”

Granger. He would always hide behind her surname when he was attempting to regain some sort of composure. Keep face. It was a fairly pointless exercise that meant as little as nothing of course.

She opened her mouth, eyebrows raised slightly. “I- I don’t…”

“Don’t answer if you don’t know,” interrupted Draco, “Just don’t. I can’t be bothered with your hesitations, Granger. If the answer is yes then- then that’s fine. I’ll fuck off and we can go back to like it was before. I won’t care.” Stop talking. “It’s not the end of my fucking world, Granger. I’ll survive. So don’t just brush me off with half answers to save my feelings.” Stop talking. “It’s not like I can’t live without you.” Fantastic. You idiot.

You absolute idiot.

When he turned back to her she was frowning.

“Right,” she replied.

And that was it.

Draco rolled his eyes. “Look you know what I mean.” Please, Hermione. You know what I’m like. Please remember what a complete tosser I am and ignore everything I just said. Because I didn’t mean it. I just can’t not say it. I’m programmed to pretend I don’t give a fuck. I think it will take years of reverse therapy to change me. Either that, or you. I need you. “You know what I mean?”

How can she know what you mean if you say all the right things in your head, you pillock?

“You’re an idiot, Draco,” she said. And then something wonderful happened. She laughed. Shook her head and laughed at him. It was like she had never looked so beautiful.

Draco almost smiled. He almost fucking smiled. How mad was that amidst everything?

“And you’re laughing because?”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Super.”

“Well you are.”

“Okay then.”

“And- god- I don’t know,” she continued, “I mean bloody hell. What else is there left to do? I’m so exhausted. My emotions are too far gone as far as functioning appropriately is concerned.”

“Okay…”

“And that question. That stupid, stupid question.” Hermione shook her head, her laughter slowing. “Do I hate you?” She rolled her eyes. “I really, completely and utterly wish I did more than anything.”

Draco stared at her.

Hermione shrugged.

“So…” he mumbled.

Her expression had suddenly become serious.

“…What does that mean?”

“You beat up my best friend so badly he fell unconscious.”

Draco gritted his teeth. Love it. Love it when you call him that.

“But…” She halted her breath. “You did it because you thought…you thought he was hurting me.”

Draco felt a sharp, incredibly untimely stab of guilt hit his stomach.

He nodded.

“Unless…” continued Hermione, a little to his surprise, “You knew.”

“What?”

“Unless you knew it wasn’t him. Unless you realised his nose wasn’t broken, that he was wearing glasses-”

“Hermione, I didn’t register any of that. I promise. I didn’t. I was too-”

“Okay,” she nodded, her expression still solemn. “I believe you.”

“You do?”

“Yes.”

“So you understand?”

She shook her head instantly. “No, Draco,” she snapped, tone suddenly deeper, more agitated like before, “Never ask me that question. Never ask me to understand- to condone what you did to Harry. I won’t forgive you for it, Draco. I can’t.”

Why. Why the fuck not.

“He would have done the same to me, Hermione, if the same misunderstanding happened the other way round. You know it. Not even he’s too much of a sodding hero for that.”

“But that’s not it. That’s not really it at all.” She took a breath. “I don’t hate you. I don’t really know how to hate you. Not anymore. I think so many thoughts, feel so many things about you that I’m completely lost. No idea. I genuinely have no idea anymore. And it’s- it’s awful. I can barely look Harry in the eyes because of it.”

“You don’t have to hate me just because he does.”

“No. But you’re not even sorry.”

Draco’s heart jolted. “What?”

“You’re not even sorry for what happened. Are you? Not sorry that you made the mistake.”

He didn’t know what to say.

“That’s what makes it so wrong of me not to hate you. Not to hate the man who beat Harry mercilessly and didn’t even regret the mistake.”

“You couldn’t even begin to understand-”

“And I don’t fucking want to, Malfoy. I think it’s disgusting.”

Draco frowned. “Then hate me for it, why don’t you?”

“I have no idea.”

“It can’t be that hard. Just forget I even exist, Granger. It’s not like we’ll be living on top of each other anymore.”

“Oh stop it, Draco.”

“Why?”

“For god’s sake.”

“Why can’t you?”

“I don’t know!”

“Yes you do. Of course you do. Just ask yourself.”

Hermione shook her head. “If you really want me to,” she breathed through gritted teeth, “Then I’m sure I can find a way.”

“Did I say I wanted you to?”

“Is there a point to this?”

I have no idea how you feel about me. And I need to know. Now. I need to know whether it’s worth it. How much I’ll have to fight.

Do you love me?

Draco shrugged, rolling those thoughts off his tongue to the back of his throat, and swallowing them.

He was struggling not to fall back into himself. Not to lose all idea of what the hell he was supposed to do with himself now. Not to wander around aimlessly from class to class, wait for the end of the day and then lock himself away again, hoping, praying that something will come along and just end it all.

Because what was there now? Supposing she didn’t want him any longer? Supposing she never did?

Hi, my name is Draco Malfoy.

Who?

Malfoy.

That name… I recognise it from somewhere.

Yes. That’s probably because it used to mean something.

Her words cut through his thoughts.

“Draco?”

“Yes?”

“I’m going to Dumbledore.”



*


It was much harder to keep up with her than he would have liked to think. Maybe it was because he was tired, throbbing all over, always surprised at how easily he forgot about pain and injury until he was forced to confront it, head on, struggling to run after the girl who was about to make a big, big mistake.

“I don’t understand, Draco,” she huffed, rushing up the path towards the castle doors, “I don’t understand why I just didn’t do this earlier.”

“You were afraid,” he panted, limping several feet behind her, “You were afraid because it meant everything would come out. The whole truth. Us. Potter and Weasley. There would be no hiding from anything anymore.”

“Maybe.”

“None of that has changed, Hermione,” he strained his voice against the biting cold, “And if you go to Dumbledore, I’ll still lose it. I’ll still lose Head Boy.”

Hermione stopped in her tracks and spun around. It caused Draco to stumble straight into her. She grabbed his shoulders and firmly pushed him away.

“Is that why you think I’m doing it, Malfoy?” she frowned, “To get you back Head Boy?”

“I don’t- perhaps not. But-”

“Because you’re right, it won’t get you anything back. Not the things you’ve lost, not the things I’ve lost. It’s too late to get back the things we miss and maybe that’s well deserved. You’ve done far too many terrible things in this school to ever have been given Head Boy in the first place. What Dumbledore was thinking I’ll never know. But I suppose he’s been shown the error of his ways now-”

“What?” spat Draco, “You think I should never have been given the title?” He understood why she thought it- of course she thought it, sometimes he even thought it himself- but it would never be okay for anyone to say it. It would never feel any less than a knife slicing right through his chest for the one person he cared about to take the one thing away from him that gave his life any sort of purpose.

“I think you know you shouldn’t have,” she breathed, “It was pity more than anything else. It was a distraction.”

“Don’t you dare call it fucking pity, Granger!” rasped Draco, “I’m not sorry I had it! I’m not sorry I took it right out of Potter’s pathetic little clutches and I’m not sorry you all looked the way you did when I walked up there!”

“You know why he didn’t get it, Malfoy.”

“I know exactly why he didn’t get it, Granger.” Draco shook his head. “Potter is brilliant. He’s a great guy. Maybe with a bit of coaching he would even have a personality. But he’s not Head Boy. And he never would have been.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

“He’s not a leader.”

“How can you possibly say that?”

“He’s good at being led. He’s fucking superb at getting things done and playing the hero. But he’s just a puppet, Hermione. And he’ll always be one. He doesn’t want any of it. He’s just trained to feel like maybe he should. Given half the chance he’d walk away. Golden boy would just throw in the towel and walk the fuck away. But he can’t. He doesn’t have the choice.”

“Harry is the most courageous, selfless person you will ever know, Draco.”

“Right. The most manufactured, self-righteous, jumped-up little prick to ever be called a hero. For a guy who spends his life being so fucking adored by everyone it’s hard to believe why someone doesn’t just smash in his brooding, sulky, woe-is-me little gob more often.”

“He doesn’t want the attention. He didn’t ask for any of it!”

“Wake up, Hermione you idiot! He loves the attention! He has everything!”

“How can you say that?!”

“He has you.”

“What?”

“And he has a family.”

“His parents are dead.”

“You make your own family. You know that. You two and the fuckbag Weasleys practically take baths together in that shack of a home. But it’s family, isn’t it? It’s all the love and care and affection you’ll ever need. But still- poor old Potter. His parents died right? I mean fuck. What a crappy little life that boy leads. Seriously- got to feel sorry for the guy with all that money and power and love behind him.”

“He deserves it all.”

“And I don’t?”

Hermione opened her mouth to respond. Nothing came out.

“He’s nothing special, Hermione. He’s just lucky.”

“Lucky? He’s spent half his life abused, Draco. Without love. Without care. All these things he has now only just begin to fill what huge holes his childhood was left with.”

“My father beat me. Mercilessly. Every single fucking day. I didn’t sulk about it. I got on with everything. No one knew. No one had to know. I didn’t want attention for what a sorry life I led.”

Her voice was quiet. “Draco…” she paused, shaking her head slowly, “I’m sorry that happened to you. But you’re not making sense. I know you hate Harry. I know you do. But he is a good man. He has saved lives, Draco.” She looked down. “Your beliefs have killed hundreds.”

Draco flinched.

“My father’s beliefs,” he corrected, “My father’s beliefs have killed hundreds.” Draco bit the inside of his cheek. “I was just a boy who loved him. I was just lost.”

Hermione nodded. “Maybe,” she said, “Maybe you didn’t know. But if he was still alive, Draco, you’d still be following him.”

“He’s more alive to me than you will ever know.”

“And you. What about you, Draco? Not everything can be attributed to Lucius. You hurt people. You hurt me.”

“I know.”

“As people, you and Harry are more similar than you think. A lot of the basics are the same. You’re both insanely stubborn, both incredibly passionate and both struggling with a past that should never happen to anyone. But in life, to other people, you are worlds apart.” Hermione bit her lip. “The essences of who you are? The things that are finish off the package? Completely different. Harry is good, Draco. He is safe, trusted, respected. You work out the rest.”

She turned back.

Draco felt so frozen, so thawed by her words that it was even more a struggle to remind himself of why he had been following her. Because she was going to Dumbledore. Because it was all about to get littered with broken rules, expulsions, stolen glories.

“What if he takes it away from you?”

Hermione had only taken a couple of steps before she turned back around.

“What?”

“What if he takes Head Girl away from you?” he asked.

She looked down. “Then that’s what I deserve. For lying. For keeping this mess so stupidly to myself. To us. It was wrong from the start.”

“So what do you tell him, Hermione?” asked Draco, taking a step towards her and raising his voice, “That Pansy seduced some Slytherin shit into taking polyjuice potion? That he was framing Harry for attempted rape? That that was the reason I beat him unconscious- but the real Harry that is, because pretend Harry got away, right? And Pansy- Pansy wasn’t actually there from what I can remember so we’d have to work on proof for her involvement, because she sure as hell won’t admit to it without a fight. In fact we should probably work on proof for all of it, so maybe that’s a bit of a messy point to start at. It sounds like we got high and fucking hallucinated it all. How about you go back to the beginning? We kissed. And then we almost kissed. And then we probably almost kissed again, I can’t remember. You struggled so much. It got so fucking boring, Granger. Potter and I got into a fight in the dungeon where you got hurt. What happened next? More holding you against walls? I think I slept with Pansy along the way. You could throw that in. Tell him I wanted it to be you. This could be useful information. I mean, Dumbledore will solve this all with enough information.”

“Stop it-”

But he kept on, teeth gritted as he threw up the past few months all over them. And he didn’t really know why he was doing it. But he was. He couldn’t stop. Angry, burning and very, very real. “The ball. That’s the biggest thing I remember, I don’t know about you. And you know, I was looking forward to that dance, Granger. I know we didn’t have to but- I wish it I could have danced with you the entire night. Not just to see the look on Potter’s face but to see the look on yours. By that point I knew you needed me like I needed you. And you would have felt exactly what I felt. You looked beautiful. You looked more beautiful every time I looked at you that night. Even when you were bleeding everywhere. Because of Pansy, that is. You met Pansy in the toilets and she hurt you, remember? Of course you remember. How much of that will you tell Dumbledore? Everything? I presume that’s the first thing he’d really be interested in. I mean Potter and I fighting is as normal as taking a shit. But you? Hermione Granger? I reckon he knows about us anyway so all the shit before that night won’t be anything new. Dumbledore the fucking radar. Only he didn’t pick up on what Pansy did to you. He didn’t pick up on that night, did he?” Draco laughed. “In fact I think it’s almost worth you telling him just to see the look on his face when he realises how much he’s missed.”

“Draco, why are you-”

“Sorry- I’m getting distracted, aren’t I?” He hit his forehead against the palm of his hand in a sarcastic fashion. “The ball. That night. I found her. I found Parkinson. Now this bit you really should listen to, Hermione, because this is the real fucking icing on the cake that is my downfall. And you’ll need to know everything if you’re going to tell this right. That night I met Pansy- I hit her, quite hard, I think her head smashed the wall or something, it was brilliant. I remember every second of it. Even the vomiting straight afterwards. Because I never thought I’d hit a girl. I guess I was wrong. Still, it was for you. I was so angry. I was so angry, Granger. And when I came back upstairs, I couldn’t face you. I was so ashamed that I’d let it all happen, and now I’d lost the one thing I had over my father. I didn’t hit women. Only I did. I had. And now I do. I broke the mirror, remember? I don’t know if you need bother telling him that part because it’s fine now, isn’t it? All repaired like nothing ever happened. It’s so wonderful that you can do that with some things.” Draco quickly noted Hermione’s stunned expression before he went on. And on. “We had sex.” He had to pause for a second. “I can still taste you from that night. Blood and something else. Something addictive. I still can’t quite work out what we did on that bathroom floor. I wouldn’t call it fucking and I wouldn’t call it making love. It was desperate. I came quickly, and you- you didn’t have much hope of climaxing but it still bothered me, god knows why. Virgins don’t, they never do, but it still pissed me off. I was a complete failure that night. But I was still inside you. And I’ve never forgotten that feeling. That part I think you can leave out.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because this is what you’ll be dragging up in front of Dumbledore.”

Hermione shook her head. “It won’t be like that.”

“It will, Granger. Because all these little things, all these little details need each other in the story. You can’t just tell one part on it’s own. And Dumbledore knows that. He’s the fucking king of prying into other people’s heads. I mean this thing- what we have here- it’s an epic, Granger. An epic that gets absolutely fucking nowhere. A story without a beginning middle and end. It’s just one long fuck up. That’s all it is. And it’s so boring. I think he’ll actually fall asleep. I mean what comes next? Potter and Weasley kicking me in? Surprise surprise we got into a fight! And you still managed to avoid telling them what was going on. I mean Potter- we both know Potter’s known for a long time. But Weasley? What an idiot. Top marks on achieving complete and utter ignorance throughout this whole thing. He’s done well, the poor deluded fool. Shame that it won’t last long. Soon he’ll know everything. Just like Dumbledore, right? Soon everyone will know how I made you scream my name with my head between your legs in that classroom.”

My god he loved making her cheeks turn red.

“No,” she muttered, “The only thing I need to tell Dumbledore is the what the hell happened last night. You know as well as I do, they will keep questioning and questioning until the truth comes out.”

“Then make it up.”

“No.”

“Even if you tell it like it is, Granger, it’s one word against another.”

“How?! Dumbledore knows I wouldn’t make up anything- let alone something as serious as attempted rape. And he knows Harry would never do such a thing, so polyjuice potion is obvious!”

“And I suppose it’s then obvious that Pansy was responsible for it?”

Hermione narrowed her eyes. “Are you trying to protect her?”

Draco shook his head firmly. “No.”

“Are you trying to protect yourself? What are you scared of? That she’ll tell Dumbledore about you hitting her?”

Draco cringed. It still sounded disgusting and it always would.

“I forgot to say, actually,” continued Hermione, “Thank you.”

Draco’s head jolted up.

“…For what?”

“For that. For hitting her. I couldn’t do it. Not very well I don’t think. Not enough anyway. And I don’t care that you did it. What she did and has done since…” Hermione shook her head. “I can’t believe she’s still in school. And that’s why I’m going to Dumbledore. I want her out, Draco. I want her gone.”

But Draco was still stuck on thank you.

Thanks.

How?

Hermione must have noticed him struggling.

“You don’t hit women, Draco,” she murmured, “And you never have to again.” She took a small step towards him. They still weren’t close enough, but closer as least. “What Lucius did was different. It was nothing like that. And you don’t have to be anything like him. Pansy deserved more than what you gave her. And that’s what I’m taking care of.”

Draco shook his head. “You’re not.”

“I am.”

“It won’t end like that. Politics, Granger. Not even Dumbledore can escape politics.”

“What are you talking about? This isn’t a question of politics, it’s the difference between plain right and wrong.”

“What kind of world do you think we live in, Granger? Why do you think Dumbledore never expelled me? Why do you think he won’t? Hogwarts can’t be seen expelling students, particularly those that are clearly from one side of the fight.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means it will be more trouble than it’s worth for the school. Have you met Pansy’s father? They won’t hear the end of it. Dumbledore knows that and so does Pansy.”

“What are you trying to say? Dumbledore will overlook conspiring an attempted rape in order to frame someone else simply because it could cause the school a bit of hassle?”

“I’m just trying to make you see, Hermione. There are other ways. Ways that don’t involve teachers. And I get it. I get that you lot have this special relationship with Dumbledore. It’s fucking weird and I’ll never understand why the hell you do but you have to listen to me. You’ll only be getting us all into more trouble than we can handle in our final year. And I’m not talking about myself- I’ve already lost everything he could take away from me- but you haven’t. Neither has Potter or Weasley, not that I give a fuck about them, but I care about you, and I know you love them. So please, just think about what you’re doing.”

“How could not going to the Headmaster be the right thing to do? It doesn’t make sense.”

“None of this does. Everything I just told you? The story of the past few months? So much has happened. Yet we’ve got absolutely nowhere. Nowhere whatsoever. How does that make sense?”

“Dumbledore is a good man. He’s above it all, Draco.”

“He likes to think he’s above it all, Hermione. And he sure as hell tries to be, the stupid sod. He does well. He’s achieved a lot. I’m not pretending he hasn’t, even though I hate to admit it. But there are some things that not even he can control.”

“I’m going. Even if you follow me to the door. Even if you follow me inside. Don’t you dare lay a finger on me Draco because I will scream.”

He shook his head. “I wouldn’t. I can’t- I can’t force you not to. I know that.”

She nodded. “Well… Good luck.”

“Good luck with what?”

“When he talks to you. Try and believe that the truth is sometimes right.”

“Please, Hermione.”

“You’re saying this like we have a choice. Like we can choose not to say anything at all if we want. But you know they’ll get it out of us. You know the consequences could be even worse for refusing to say anything at all.”

“Don’t be so sure.”

“Well there’s only one way to find out.”

Draco panicked. “But what about- what about that thing I need to tell you? The reason I asked you to meet me?”

“It will have to wait.”

“But it’s waited long enough!”

“I’m sorry, Draco. I should have done this a long time ago.”

*


Harry can’t have slept at all. His eyes were bloodshot against his bruised and darkened skin. His temple was twitching slightly. He looked entirely awful. You could almost feel your own bones ache when you looked at his face. Almost taste your own blood on your own lips. Feel cracked ribs underneath your own skin.

Of course, Draco probably had all those things already. If not from last night then from some other time he was beaten up. He was not about to feel sympathy pains for Harry Potter.

No. The pain he was feeling when he looked at the boy he hated was his own. Purely.

“Good morning, Potter.”

Harry’s head snapped so fast it must have hurt. Draco could imagine it, every single nerve ending burning inside Potter’s skull. Every move causing his mind to plummet, his brain banging every rock on the way down.

Draco took a step towards his bed. It was virtually empty in the hospital wing. The pale sunlight streamed eerily through the window onto them both.

“I’m sure you’re thrilled to see me,” Draco continued, feeling the air throb threateningly between them. “Or maybe not. Maybe that’s a little naive on my part.” He flicked his tongue to the corner of his mouth, slid it quickly over a cut that Potter had given him only hours earlier.

Draco wondered whether some of the dried blood on his cheek wasn’t his own. He wondered if some of the blood he could taste, smell, feel crusting on his skin belonged to the boy lying in front of him.

“On the contrary,” rasped Harry, “I knew you’d be here sooner or later.”

It was a shock. A small shock. Draco had expected the get outs, the fuck offs, the usual Potter and Malfoy show. But then, at the same time, it very much made sense that Harry had been waiting. Of course he had. There was nothing left to do.

Draco and Harry. It was their time. When all the fists and elbows had failed. This was their time.

Draco took a step towards his hospital bed. “She’s gone to see Dumbledore.”

Harry looked down briefly. “And?”

“Just because you all think a thousand wands shine out of his fucking arse, Potter, doesn’t mean she’s doing the right thing. It doesn’t mean things will get solved. You know as well as I do that if we wanted to get Pansy-”

“I don’t care about her.”

“You should. Hermione does.”

Harry shook his head. “Is that what you’ve come here to talk about? Parkinson? Because yes. I’ll get her back. I will. But you’re first, Malfoy. I’ll get her back straight after you.”

Draco laughed. “Balls, Potter. You’ve always had them. And that’s super. But tuck them back in your knickers for a second. I’m here because this is the closest chance we have to talking without it breaking into a fight.”

“And what makes you so sure?”

Draco shrugged. “If I’ve learnt anything from the past few weeks, it’s that life is fucked. And you can try and get out of that bed and pound in my face, but unfortunately I came off better this time, so naturally I would easily get off better if you try it again in the next twenty-four hours. So there we go. Life is fucked. Get used to it and just stay under the sodding covers Potter because this is a conversation that needs to be had.”

Harry gritted his teeth. “If you say so.”

Draco hesitated. Perhaps he had started this all wrong. He had entered the room with the intention to use words. But real words. Not just verbal shit to annoy him. This needed to be balanced. They needed to be on the same level if he was going to get anywhere. “Listen. You know, right? I didn’t realise it wasn’t you. I didn’t realise it was someone else that had done that to her. And if I did- if I had known before-”

“Don’t waste your time. I know you wouldn’t have stopped even if you realised. We both know. Just because I wasn’t the bastard who did that to her, didn’t mean you were making a mistake by knocking me out, right? I mean yeah. You were beating me up because you thought I had hurt Hermione. But that was what? Less than half of the reason you were kicking me in?”

Draco shrugged. “Something like that. And you hate me just as much. Which is why I know you understand.”

“And why do you need me to understand?”

“I suppose I don’t.”

“What really gets me, Malfoy, is that you think I would do something like that to Hermione. She doubted it- not as much as I wish she had but at least she fucking doubted it. She knows I would never- never do that to her. But you? You jumped at the idea. You were probably pleased-”

“You think I was pleased? Pleased that she was so terrified?”

“I think you were pleased that it was me. That you thought it was me. How much easier would that have made everything for you? How much easier would that have made taking her away from us?”

“I’m not taking her away. It’s not me, Potter. The sooner you stop hiding behind it all being the big scary Slytherin, the sooner you’ll realise it’s your own best friend that’s pulling the strings.”

“You’re really not that big, Malfoy. And you’re certainly not scary.”

“Whatever. Just as long as you know why the fight started. And it was the reason.”

“And we’ve established that’s irrelevant. So what’s the point?”

“I never said there was one.”

“You’re lying. You don’t give a fuck whether or not I know what was going on in your head. You don’t give a fuck if I think you beat me up with the full knowledge that it wasn’t me. But there is a point. You’re doing this- you’re saying these things for her. Hermione. Only she’s not around, Malfoy. So this sick little show your putting on is only for me.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. Or her. I’ll never pretend to hate you any less than I do. I couldn’t. I’m only telling you because it’s the truth. Because it’s somewhere to start, if anything.”

“Well you may as well stop right there then. Because I’ll never be okay with you. You and I will never be friends.”

Draco laughed loudly. The sound bounced off the walls of the empty hospital wing. “You think I want to be friends? You’re everything that’s wrong with this place, Potter. You’re fucking life is the reason my Father is gone. It’s the reason my mother can’t look at me for longer than five seconds anymore. It’s the reason I can’t look at myself.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You. You and your- your life. It made him what he was. Because you had to go and sodding live, didn’t’ you? Make things complicated. It could have been so simple without you.” Draco laughed again. “You have no idea how many times my father told me that. So yeah. I can’t look at myself. I look too much like him. My father. And it wouldn’t piss me off so much if he were still around to distract me from it. But no. You had to be the boy that sodding got off from Voldemort’s curse and postpone a war that would have been finished a fuck long time ago, Potter. You should have just closed your little baby eyes and gone with it. Maybe then our generation wouldn’t have to flit about pretending to care about some stupid idiotic war.”

“You’re mad.”

“No. I’m not mad. I’m practical. Because whatever would have happened if you had died, people would be used to by now. And us? Well we wouldn’t know any better. So what all the mudbloods would be wiped out? Fuck. I can’t even begin to tell you how much easier my life would be without them. And he’d still be around. My father. The bastard. I love him. Your stupid pathetic life has ruined so much for us.”

“Us?”

“It would be over by now.”

Harry growled under his breath. “I don’t pretend I’m happy to be here, Malfoy. But none of what you just said made sense. If anything, it just gave me that buzz of purpose all over again. Outlined the difference between me and you. When it comes to it, taking out all the complications of who you’re trying so desperately to pretend to be around her Malfoy, you’d choose to kill people like Hermione. Whereas I would die to keep her alive.”

Draco stared at him. “Of course it doesn’t make sense,” he replied, “It makes no sense whatsoever. But that’s what I’ve been led to believe. By him. By Lucius. Since I took my first steps that was all that was ever drummed into my skull. Mudbloods are scum. And you- you were much worse. Like I said, you were the reason my father went out at night. You were the reason he came back so irate with war he’d beat his own wife. His own son. Your fucking miracle life was the reason. Because it would have been over so long ago.” Draco laughed. “How thick is that? And I believed it. I believed it like muggles believe in the Tooth Fairy. It was some myth. Some legendary excuse for why the world was like it was. Why we hunted, were hunted.” He shook his head. “And the sad truth of it all? Complete bullshit. It’s not your fault it’s happened, Potter. You couldn’t help living. And maybe it was his own fault. Maybe it was Voldemort’s fault for trying to kill a fucking child. Not even a child. A baby. And even then, I’m not stupid. If he had managed it- my life now? Of course. It would be simple. For me, very simple. I’d probably have had my pick of women to rape by the time I was thirteen. You know, stuff like that.” He exhaled. “I’m so glad I’m still human enough to recognise what the other lives there are around me. To not altogether disregard them. That respect wouldn’t be there if it had all gone Voldemort’s way. If it had all gone my father’s way.”

“I don’t understand,” frowned Harry, “Am I supposed to follow? I mean in the very least, the bit about respect for others has really thrown me off.”

“It’s called a stream of consciousness, Potter. It’s not my fault your mind is too dried up and two-dimensional to think about anything more than good and bad. Anything more than black and white. You’ve been brought up in a sodding Candyland, Potter. You’re the good boy.” Draco started laughing again. “It’s funny because all I just said- the stuff about you being the reason- it’s not why I hate you. Not anymore anyway. I hate you because you’re a git.” He continued to laugh, felt his body twitch with it. “Because you’re just bloody annoying. You strut around completely overwhelmed by some higher purpose. And I don’t care what it is. I don’t care why you’re like it. You’re just all such morons. You and your ginger Weasley lover, all high and mighty like without you the fucking school would fall apart.” He licked his lips. “But Hermione? Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t like her either. I mean she started filling out about fourteen but she was still an annoying little bitch. But there was always one thing about her. She was genuine. She was always genuine. Her ways were things she was born with, not roles thrust upon her by the trusting good of society. Her eyes watered when she was upset. Her skin blushed when she was aroused. She was- is- so raw. So natural.”

Harry’s jaw had clenched. “Okay.” And then he moved his arms, started to push himself up. For a second Draco thought he really was going to get up and hit him. It would have been hilarious. Hilarious but sad. Sad because why was that all there ever was? Blood? But then he realised, Harry was only sitting himself up in bed.

“I’m not going to pretend a word of what you just said made sense to me. But I’m sure it did. And would. To someone like Hermione.” He looked down. “I’m not like you both in that respect. She’s got the brains. She’s got everything but- she’s really got the brains. And you- I don’t try and ignore the fact you’re almost top of every class. Or used to be anyway.” He looked back at him. “You can talk, Malfoy. Well done. You can say things and congratulations for that. But seriously? Why does that make you think you are so much better than everyone else? Why does everyone shrink in comparison to the fucking Malfoy? Because it’s not just about how you’ve been brought up, it’s about who you are, inherently. You may feel the little changes now, Malfoy, you may feel feelings, slight ounces of humanity, but it won’t change you. And why haven’t you said the word once? Not one single time? Because I thought this was truth time.”

“What word?”

“Jealousy, Malfoy. You have so much jealousy for people like Hermione, people like me, you’d do anything you can to corrupt the good in us just to make yourself feel that little bit better. And she’s let you. She’s given you a good chance. But I won’t let you finish her. Because Hermione- the idiot- she already thinks you’re worth saving. She already thinks you’re some sodding equation that can be sorted and solved. But you’re not. We both know that. You can never offer her the good life she deserves. You’ll never be able to let her love life like I know she is so capable of doing. Because you hate it. Happiness. No matter how many chances you get you’ll always fall at the last second, because you can’t let yourself be completely happy. People like you never can.”

“People like me?”

“Quite honestly everything I have to say I’ve already said. Either that or you know it already. So I’ll spare you from the dramatics even though you couldn’t do me the same courtesy. Because the long and short of it is? I couldn’t give a shit about what goes on in that head of yours- what you believed, what you believe now, what’s wrong and what’s right- I’m not interested. Keep it to yourself. It won’t change what I know can’t be changed. And that’s you and her. You can’t have her. You won’t work.”

“How do you know?”

“You’ll never have my permission, Malfoy.”

Draco laughed loudly. “And that’s the reason it won’t work? Because you won’t permit it? You really are a twat, you know that?”

“No. It won’t work for a thousand other reasons. I meant for her. If that’s what she’s wanting you to get- my understanding, my acceptance- if that’s the reason she’s holding out-”

“You think she’s holding out?”

Draco saw Harry’s jaw clench underneath his skin.

He rolled his eyes. “Listen, Potter. She can’t hate me. She won’t. So stop making her think she should.”

“It’s not like that. No one can make Hermione think something she doesn’t want to. No one can make her try and feel something she can’t feel. If Hermione knows you’re evil, it’s because she knows it. Not because I’ve told her to know it.”

“Evil? That’s a bit strong, isn’t it?”

“Not one bit.”

“Fine. But she doesn’t. She doesn’t know that. That’s the whole point.”

“You’ll ruin her life.”

“Have you ever been in love?”

“What?”

“It’s a question, Potter. Have you ever been in love?”

“I’ve felt things more real than you ever have, I’m sure.”

“Well she loves me. I know she does. And that’s a war that you don’t have a chance of winning, Potter. If I learnt anything from my mother in all those years my father trained me to hate, it’s that. Love triumphs. On both sides. You don’t need to be a romance novel for that to happen.”

Harry was staring at him. “She hasn’t said that to me.”

“She wouldn’t. She’s knows how you’d react.”

“How do you know how I’d react?”

“Let’s just say I’d bet my life on what you’d say to her.”

Harry shrugged. “Like I said, Hermione hasn’t said anything to me about love. Has she said anything to you?”

Draco swallowed a sharp moment of doubt to the bottom of his stomach. “She doesn’t have to.”

“I know- I know you two are doing whatever you’re doing. But I think she’s just lost. I think she’s incredibly lost. Be careful, Malfoy. Don’t get those two things confused.”

“I won’t. I haven’t.”

“Whatever you say.”

Draco clenched his jaw. “Jealousy,” he mumbled. “It works both ways, Potter.”



*


As Hermione listened to the calming sound of Fawkes breathing lightly in his sleep, she wondered how right Malfoy was. She wondered why she wouldn’t let herself believe him. Wouldn’t let herself lose trust that telling the Headmaster would solve things. Would redeem them all. Surely she had lost so many things she believed in before that this one should hardly matter? Or maybe it was that losing one more thing she held so dear would destroy her completely. There were so few things she could rely on anymore. So many things she thought were unwavering that had began to dissolve, slowly, bit by bit.

Ron. Where was he? How long had it been since they had last spoken? Properly? Why had she ignored all his attempts? All his beautifully caring, solidly genuine attempts to reach out to her. To be there for her. He had tried so desperately to be her friend, to stop her banishing him into the distant past like a good thing she used to have. With all the rest of the good things she used to have.

Like Harry. Lying broken and battered in the hospital wing. His heart breaking, his mind racing and all because of her. All because of her. And she hadn’t even told him the whole truth. Merely touched upon it. And he was still going to fight for her. Hermione couldn’t understand why. Why was he being so stubborn about it? Maybe because, from the outside, Malfoy hadn’t changed. Maybe she was the only one that could see the difference. And if that was the case, then of course Harry and Ron would be trying to protect her. They must have thought she was mad.

But she wasn’t mad. She was sad, lonely, exhausted. But she wasn’t mad. Something about the last few months still made sense to her. She could barely remember how they got here, and yet Draco seemed to remember every tiny detail. That didn’t make sense. She felt hollow, she had lost interest in the things that mattered to her before- Head Girl, work, friends. And that didn’t make sense either. So what did? What was the one stream of sanity running through this all? Because there was one. She felt it.

“I’m glad you’re here, Hermione,” said Dumbledore, his voice soft. “You don’t need me to emphasise the severity of this situation. It’s a good thing you’ve come forward. Of course I will still need to talk to Draco and Harry.”

“Please,” she mumbled, “Don’t take it away from him.”

“Take what away?”

“Head Boy. From Draco. He depends on it.”

“Well I’m afraid that is far from obvious, Hermione. Both you and Draco’s concentration on your duties have been somewhat lacking these past weeks. More recently, to quite a serious degree.”

“I understand, Professor. I do. Which is why I’m coming to you. I want all the fighting- all the hatred to stop. I want things to go back to normal. But they can’t unless you give it back to Draco.”

“Miss Granger, need I suggest that it is perhaps the combination of you and Draco that has brought you here? Reinstating him would in the very least only cause this situation to continue.”

“But-”

“More importantly, I’m sure I will have to heavily convince myself not to expel both Draco and Harry over the next few days. Yesterday’s fight could have gone even further, Hermione. It could have caused damage beyond repair. And I don’t pretend to ignore the other fights that have gone on between Draco and Harry.”

“If you’re not ignoring them, Professor, then why didn’t you do anything about them?”

Dumbledore frowned. “Boys fight, Miss Granger. Not just Harry and Draco. Others as well. Across all years. Animosity between houses runs especially higher these days. The war has changed a lot. Far too much. And I had hoped that given enough time, Harry and Draco’s vendetta against one another would fade. Now that Draco’s father is dead, he has no immediate link with-”

“But Professor-”

“It is not my responsibility to babysit sixth-years, Miss Granger. There is too much to concentrate on. There are too many people to look out for.”

Hermione felt her cheeks get hot. “And that’s it?” she exclaimed, surprised at the tone of her own voice, “You admit that you knew they were fighting and you didn’t do anything about it?”

“I warned them.”

“But that clearly wasn’t enough!”

Dumbledore’s voice softened again. “Hermione, short of expelling one of them, what more could I do? This is the first dangerous fight between them a teacher has seen, and so naturally straight away there will be serious consequences. As for things that have happened in the past, we could only speculate as to how bruises came about. As the Headmaster there was only so much I could do with two pupils who perhaps, dare I say it, have more reason than most of be angry with life. It is not just about rules, it is about compassion. Some say it is my downfall. And maybe last night proved them correct. My compassion has gone nowhere with this situation and now rules must take effect. It seems that time and maturity will not in any way solve anything for Draco and Harry.”

Hermione looked down.

Dumbledore took a deep breath. “I have reason to believe there is something going on. Something that has been going on for weeks. And I know it does not stop with Draco and Harry. I know this fight is a result of many things, perhaps many people. This information I need to know Hermione. This information is imperative. If you want things to stop, then this is your chance.”

She couldn’t think. She couldn’t think of what to say.

Draco was right. It won’t be simple. It won’t get solved. Dumbledore was angry. She couldn’t remember him ever sounding so exhausted. The war. It had changed everyone. Everything. Emotions got in the way. Compassion didn’t work anymore.

There was no time for things to be solved. Only painted over carelessly so that you couldn’t see them anymore.

“I will help you, Hermione,” he said, “You and Draco. Your relationship. Am I right to think it is no longer platonic?”

“You say platonic like we used to be friends.”

“Which you weren’t. And I know that. I knew that when I elected you both. But I also knew that you, Hermione, had a gift. A gift with people. I knew, or at least thought, that you could work past it. I even thought, as foolish as this may sound, that through you Draco and Harry could perhaps begin to mend the huge rift that was formed between them.”

Hermione was scared. She was scared to start this. She knew that once she did, there was no going back. No backtracking, no covering up. Dumbledore didn’t miss a twitch of an eye when you were sitting in front of him. He was truth serum in human form. It was as if he had the ability to read your mind.

That had never once made Hermione feel uncomfortable until now.

Instead Hermione diverted from beginning it. She gave herself more time.

“I know you won’t expel Draco.”

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“You won’t expel him because you can’t expel Harry.”

“And what makes you so sure?”

“He isn’t equal. You can try and pretend that he is, like Harry’s just another pupil in the school when it comes down to it, but he’s not. And so you can’t, Professor. With respect. You can’t tell him to leave. You need him.”

Dumbledore smiled. “I don’t pretend Harry is like any other. And yes. I certainly do need him. We all do. But never assume, Miss Granger. No matter how much sense you may think it makes.”

Never assume, Hermione. Never assume.

Never assume that telling Dumbledore will help you in any way. Never assume that it will solve things for Harry, for Draco, for you. Never assume it will take you back to the way things used to be, or that it will even give you that sense of normality back. Never assume it will undo what you know, you know deep down can never be undone.

Hermione took a breath. “Draco and Harry have been fighting a while. As you said, last night was not the first time. There were other times. Times when Ron was involved too.”

Dumbledore nodded. “And why was this? It can’t just be the usual rivalry?”

Hermione shook her head. “No. You already know why, Professor.”

“Perhaps. But I need to hear it from you.”

“Because of me. Because- because my relationship with Draco has changed. And naturally, because of all the things Draco has done to us in the past, Harry doesn’t like it.”

“So Harry knows?”

“He has a fair idea. I think he’s known for a long time, but it wasn’t until last night I really admitted anything. Ron doesn’t know, though. I don’t think. He’s buried his head in the sand. He’s distanced himself from it all. I don’t really- I don’t really know what he’s feeling, actually. How he’s dealing with what’s happened to the three of us. Because it’s not the same anymore. We barely see each other. Barely talk. Not like we used to.”

“Last night, what happened exactly?”

Hermione felt her heart thunder against her ribs. She looked down. “We were on patrol. Draco- Draco said he had something to tell me so we were going to meet halfway. To talk. I don’t know what it was. I still don’t. But- but when I got to where we were supposed to meet-” Her pulse raced. “They were there. Draco and Harry. They were already fighting.”



*



“What am I jealous of exactly?” asked Harry. He was angry. It was so frustrating lying there, feeling the blood pump through his muscles just knowing he didn’t have a chance in hell of using them today. But he wasn’t too stupid to recognise that that was a good thing. Just frustrated. Just angry.

“Of me. You’re jealous of me.”

“Because you’re such a nice guy?”

“Because I have her. Because she wants me.”

“It’s got nothing to do with jealousy.”

“It’s got everything to do with it. She may not have noticed but I have. And you know I wouldn’t even put it past you to ignore it yourself.”

“Ignore what?”

“You have feelings for her, Potter. Feelings beyond friendship. I doubt it’s quite love but it’s certainly not the brotherly thing you like to think you’ve got going on.”

“You reckon?”

“Almost as certain as I am of you now denying it.”

“Clever, Malfoy.”

“So I’m right?”

“No,” Harry shook his head, “Maybe if you’d said it a month or so ago I might have hesitated but- no. I don’t want Hermione like that. She’s just- she’s the only girl I’ve ever cared about more than myself. And that makes her special. It makes her family. I’ve been confused in the past but not anymore. I love Hermione, she’s an amazing girl. And too good for you. But I think she’s too good for me as well. For different reasons. But still. That’s not how it is with us. So don’t bother twisting it, Malfoy.”

“You expect me to believe that?”

“I feel like this answer is given way too much between us but- I really don’t care. I really don’t care what you think or what you believe. Why don’t you get that?”

“Because it’s not true. Because you’ve been obsessed with me in the past. Obsessed with exactly that. Who I am. What I believe in and what’s wrong with it. What I care about and why I shouldn’t. You’ve probably analysed me more than I’ve analysed myself. And yet you still know nothing about me. Absolutely nothing.”

“And that’s a shame. But again, I’ll survive.”

“You don’t get it, do you? You’ll lose her, Potter. You’ll lose her if you don’t stand behind her. She won’t give me up for you. She might have felt like she had to before, she might still feel guilty now, but she won’t do it. You won’t be the reason. All you’re doing, all you’ve been doing since you started this campaign, is push her further and further away.” Draco narrowed his eyes. “I hate that she needs you but she does. So stop doing it. Stop forcing her into hiding her own feelings and accept them instead. You don’t even have to accept them just stop fucking destroying them. Stop making her feel ashamed. Stop claiming what you’re doing is all because you care, and instead realise it’s hurting her more. She may be uncomfortable with the way she feels about me, Potter, and who knows, she might even turn around and change her mind after all. She might realise it’s wrong. Realise it won’t work and that it was just lust or whatever. But let her realise it on her own. Let her make the choices on her own or I swear she will resent you for the rest of her life. She’ll resent you from keeping her from something just because you didn’t like it.” Draco shook his head. “For once in her life Hermione is breaking the rules. No one can make her feel any worse about that than herself. All you’re doing is being a bastard. Being exactly what she doesn’t need and nothing of what she does. I can never be there for her like you can. I don’t know how to be. Not right now anyway. And I know she’s suffering without you. Without you and Weasley. Don’t think I don’t hate it, because I do. I’m just telling you how it is. This isn’t coming from me. This is coming from her. It’s what her tears are about, Potter. More often than not, it’s not me she’s crying about. It’s you.”

He was terrified. Harry was terrified that it was true. That Draco was right. It was hard because he’d always here it from him, never from Hermione. He’d always hear how she felt through Draco. And that wasn’t okay. He couldn’t listen to him. It was as if it were literally impossible to believe the things he told him. Especially the things about Hermione. Especially the stuff that, as her best friend, he should know already.

It was terrifying because it made sense. It was unbelievable because it came from him.

Harry swallowed. It felt sharp, like wire has been shoved down his throat. He desperately needed a glass of water. The jug on his beside table was empty. He felt his dry tongue ache inside his mouth.

“I need some water.”

“What?”

“There’s a sink over there,” signalled Harry, “I need some.”

Draco shook his head. “You’ll get some water when you admit it. When you admit what you’re doing to her. When you promise that you’ll stop.”

“Just get me a drink.”

“No.”

“You’re not serious? You expect me not worry about you and her when this is the kind of thing you do to people? Manipulate them. Bully them into doing whatever you want. Saying whatever you want. It won’t work with me.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Just say that you’ll leave her alone-”

“Get him some water, Draco.”

Harry’s vision blurred around the edges as he glanced over at the doors, staring at Hermione as she walked slowly past the empty beds towards him and Draco.

Draco frowned. “Hermione? I thought you were-”

“I was. I have been.”

“That was quick.”

She nodded. “The sink is right behind you.”

Harry saw Draco pause. He could tell he was struggling with what to do. Obey someone, or continue to refuse. Both had their problems. Both said a lot. It was the question – what did he care more about? Keeping his pride in front of Harry, or doing something that he should most definitely do in front of Hermione.

Draco turned and walked towards the sink.

A fucking superb act. That was Harry’s first thought. Although he was beginning to wonder, which scared him.

Hermione came to the side of Harry’s bed. She rested her hand on his. “Are you okay?” she whispered.

Harry nodded. “Yes. Are you?”

She smiled slightly. It was a sad smile. No warmth.

Draco was standing behind her with a glass of water. She took it from him and placed it in Harry’s hand. He downed the entire glass, hearing her murmur a thank you to Draco as he finished it.

“What did you say to him?” asked Draco. “Why are you down here with us? And why- why isn’t he with you? Surely he’d come and get us straight away. Surely we’re not allowed to consult-”

“We’re not. I’m sure we’re not. I told him you were outside. I thought you were. He told me under strict instruction that I was not allowed to come here. Or to see you. He’ll be calling you into the office later.”

“And what?” Draco growled, pacing away from them both, “We tell him everything do we?” He shook his head. “Why did you do it, Hermione? I wasn’t trying to deceive you by telling you those things. I was trying to protect you.”

“I have to go. So do you, Draco,” she answered. “But you have to swear you will stick to this.”

The boys frowned.

“You were fighting because of me. Because of me and Draco. It started because you saw each other in the corridor. You argued. Your usual arguments. Draco you were coming to meet me, as we discussed. Harry you were- you were doing whatever you were doing when you were there in the first place. No Pansy. No polyjuice potion. Just a heated argument that turned into a fight. Try and give as little detail as possible and stick to the basics.”

Harry didn’t know how to react. “Hermione-” he began, “He’ll know you came here. He’ll work it out.”

“Maybe. But I didn’t have a choice.”

“It won’t work,” muttered Draco.

“And if I hadn’t have gone, then what? We all get forced to see him at some point today anyway? I’ve given him a story now. Given us a chance to cover this up. It’s a lie. You’re good at it, Draco, we’ve had plenty of practice. If it doesn’t work, it doesn’t work.” She turned to leave.

“Hermione,” called Draco, quietly.

She turned back.

“What about Pansy?”

“Revenge doesn’t have to be that complicated, Draco,” she murmured, “Neither of you do anything. Don’t even speak to her. Not until I have, at least.”




*