A Trip to the Loo

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. The option was never in the deck of cards dealt. I can say with all certainty that what unfolded from one misguided trip to the loo took us both by surprise.

We hid it well, of course. The outcome of the year weighs heavily on my heart and I have to make a conscious effort to put the past three hundred and some days out of my head. At times I find it easy to do. Ron and Harry help. There’s a wedding to help prepare for and I learned at an early age how to submerse myself in work. It doesn’t seem as though Mrs. Weasley will run out of chores any time soon. After that we’ll be leaving. The three of us once more, the way it should be, off to search for the horcruxes. But nighttime is my enemy and as I lay here on the cot in Ginny’s room listening to her softly snoring, the now familiar routine of memories flood my thoughts and I succumb.

I had to pee. Desperately. There wasn’t time to make it to the prefect’s bathroom or even the loo two corridors over. It was duck into Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom (a place I’ve desperately avoided since second year) or mess myself. That particular embarrassment was not an option so in I went.

As I was straightening my robes, preparing to step back out of the stall, I heard the door open. I stopped in my movements and waited, listening. Slowly I stepped back onto the seat of the toilet behind me and crouched. It was odd behavior, I know, and I admitted as much at that point in time. But no one ever came in here. For someone to be here now it was only logical to assume something was amiss. Once again, I was right.

I could hear his footsteps as he paced, muttering curses underneath his breath. The sound of his voice tugged a familiar cord in my mind but I couldn’t yet place it. Moaning Myrtle’s voice rang out then. Panic crept up in my throat, setting the hairs on my arms on end and causing my hands to shake. Whoever was out there was mad. If Myrtle told him I was hiding in here it would mean a confrontation. While I’m good with my wand, one of the best all modesty aside, I lose my nerve when I’m approached and unprepared. Luckily she only wanted to swoon over her guest.

As she talked he stopped pacing. She complimented his hair and his eyes and I knew who was out there. I shuddered so hard I nearly fell from my perch. Draco Malfoy. One of the last people I wanted to be confronted with when alone. He had made it his life goal at school to goad my friends and me. If he knew I was sitting mere feet from him, all alone, there was no telling what he would do.

I listened intently as he spoke. At first he dismissed her, telling her to piss off. But after a bit of her usual simpering, Myrtle pressed the issue. He told her it was none of her business why he was angry. She should sod off before he called in the exorcists. She gasped and flew into her own stall, water rippling as she dove into the tank’s water. Through the crack in the frame of my hiding spot I watched Malfoy bend over one of the sinks, grasping the ceramic tightly with his hands. He was paler than usual with dark circles under his eyes. His head was bent, eyes closed. He looked as though he was suffering a physical pain. But that didn’t make sense to me since Malfoy knew his way to the infirmary and always exploited any excuse to visit there, using illness as a common excuse to slack should he find laziness fit for any situation. I watched him silently as he collected himself, straightened, and left the room on an angry stride. The mystery had been presented and I was hooked.

I returned to the same stall every day at the same time from that day forward. I listened as Malfoy began to open up to Myrtle, fear circling my heart as I waited for her to expose me to him. For whatever reason, she never did. I exposed myself.

School was three months into the term and Malfoy hadn’t made anything more than a halfhearted verbal attack on Harry, Ron, and me all year. At that, it was only the one instance. The boys didn’t know what to make of it. I didn’t either, but I had a better clue than they did.

I still don’t know why I didn’t just stay hidden. I can’t figure out what prodded me from my hiding place. Nor can I rationalize why he didn’t hex and obliviate me on the spot. I think it was the tears.

He was bent over the same sink again, his body trembling visibly, tears pouring down his perfectly pale cheeks. He was speaking to Myrtle, telling her he couldn’t do it – asking how he could have been assigned such a hopeless task; saying he knew it was only a matter of time until his own death and the deaths of his parents.

Without thinking I lowered myself silently to the floor and slid from the stall. He heard my shoe scuff across the ground when I was little more than a foot from him. He turned and his shock was quickly replaced by a sneer.

“Come to have a laugh then, Granger?”

It didn’t really register at the time he hadn’t called me a foul name. He hadn’t insulted me or done anything to place me in as venerable a spot as he was standing in. Instead he stared at me and ran his sleeve over his face, waiting for my reply. I might as well have been in a trance. I was no more in control of my actions than he was in control of the tears that continued to run down his face. I stepped towards him and raised my hand. He flinched as though expecting me to slap him. Well, I can’t really blame him given our history. But instead I carefully wiped away his tears, marveling all the while at how smooth his skin was.

He watched me, his stormy eyes suspicious. He didn’t move or speak. Neither did I. I returned the stare, silver and gold. (Though only on good days do my eyes actually look gold, it’s merely something I humor myself with – blame it on vanity). Still without speaking I turned and left the room. I could feel his eyes boring into my back as I left, but he didn’t say anything.

I didn’t hide after that. I still went there, every day. Myrtle surprised me by not causing a scene by replacing her as Draco’s confidant. Perhaps she could sense the severity of the situation. Maybe she knew something I still don’t. Maybe she just remembered me from second year and knew if she ever wanted a chance to set eyes on Harry again she would have to put up with me.

He began talking then. He was always vague. I never actually knew what was going on but I knew it would be nothing good for me in the long run. I never knew how bad it would be either, but how was I supposed to know?

Hiding everything from Ron and Harry was becoming more difficult but I managed. I hated with holding the truth from them. But I didn’t understand what was happening myself. How was I supposed to expect them to understand? Especially with Harry harping on and on about how Draco was up to something.

We were lounged against the wall, sitting on the cold floor, talking about random anythings when I made the first mistake.

“Does it hurt often?”

He just looked at me for a moment. I knew he knew what I was asking and I held my breath, silently berating myself for being so dumb as to ask that question. In what seemed to me as a rash decision, he shoved back the sleeve of his left arm and thrust his flesh toward me.

“What do you think?”

I searched his eyes, looking for permission. Finding neither that nor dismissal I hesitantly lifted my hands. I cradled his forearm gently, traced the stain of embedded ink with my fingertip. Out of the corner of my eye I saw his eyes flutter shut. On an impulse I bent my head and kissed the skin of his forearm, my lips brushing over the dark mark marring his perfect complexion.

His eyes shot open and he straightened, pulling away from me. My eyes widened, realizing what I had actually done. He stared at me like I’d grown a second head and I opened my mouth to apologize. I have no clue what I was going to say. But it didn’t matter. My brain shut down all functions and for all I know, hell froze over. That was the moment Draco Malfoy leaned over and kissed me for the first time.

He awakened emotions and feelings and sensations that had, up until that point in time, lain dormant and unaffected. I could tell he was as startled by our chemistry as I was. We didn’t say much else that day. Mostly just stared at each other before making excuses about homework and classes and making hasty exits. I left first, as I always did. He waited another ten minutes before slipping back out into the bustling world of the castle to carry on his day.

Things shifted after that. It was a surreal experience. We talked philosophy. We discussed Greek Mythology, which he was well versed in. Sometimes we would venture to again share a kiss or two. It was always light, though to me it carried a reassurance. I began to fool myself that Draco was making promises with his kisses that he couldn’t come out right and say. The curse of being female.

Some days he would surprise me and wrap his arms around me, holding me against him. I don’t know who he caught off guard more the first time he did that – me or himself. But it was nice. I shared physical exchanges with Harry and Ron. Touches to their arms or hands, a kiss on the cheek, a hug or playful slap. But to be held against someone, even if they are supposed to be your enemy, creates such a feeling of security and comfort… it can even allow the notion of importance to be entertained. That was mistake number two. Thinking I meant something more than I did with Draco.

But back then I didn’t see these mistakes. I was wrapped in a bubble world of bliss and contentment while leading a double life and putting on a charade with my two best friends.

The night of the battle at Hogwarts… my world screeched to a halt. Luna and I had been sent to fetch Professor Snape and he had stupefied us after we delivered our message. I came around first and revived Luna. We hurried up from the dungeons to join our friends and teachers in battle. I was just behind Luna on the stairs when a flash of white blonde and a billow of black robes caught my eye. I yelled to her to continue and changed course. He saw me coming and fell back from whomever he was following.

Tears again fell from his face, he had traces of soot blackening his skin and his eyes bore a pain that nearly broke my heart in two. He ran to meet me, catching me in his embrace before I was willing to allow him to do so. I fought to break free from him, ready to demand he tell me what had been done. What all the fighting was about. How the Death Eaters got inside of Hogwarts and why he was running away from it all. But he held me so close. Clung to me a child to its mother. He buried his face in my hair and sobbed. Over and over he apologized. The words that fell from his mouth sounded foreign on his tongue. Not knowing what else to do, I relented my struggle and held him.

He pulled back as a sharp voice called his name from down the corridor. Again, there was a tug of familiar quality, but I dismissed it, focusing on Draco.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t have a choice… please forgive me, Hermione, please…”

His name was called again. This time I almost placed the voice. But then Draco’s lips were on mine, desperate and delving, as though he wanted to memorize my taste and suck breath from me to sustain himself and I was lost in the sensations. Dimly I knew this would be the last time I saw him, that if I wanted memories of him to keep, now was the chance to make them. But I couldn’t. I was quickly falling numb and couldn’t stop it.

“I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”

His promise. His vow. Lost among his lies. Jumbled in memories and the tricks of my mind. If that wasn’t enough, he added one last complication just before disappearing from view.

“I think I love you, Hermione Granger. Find a way to forgive me. I’ll come back for you.”

So now I lay every night, dissecting the past. Cataloging every experience and cutting it apart for examination. I’ve made a mental list of what was real and what I took upon myself to fictionalize. Harry and Ron still don’t know. Ginny’s noticed a difference in me but no one knows the truth. I don’t even know the truth.

This war is crazy. It’s affecting us all. Reaching inside the chambers of our souls and twisting everything that ever made sense until it no longer resembles what we know. Our land is strange and ever changing. Promises get made that we know we can’t keep in attempts to maintain moral. But every night, before I allow myself to sleep, I can’t help but hope one promise is kept. That everything will work out for the good, that we find a way to live through all this and find victory, and that Draco Malfoy really does love me and will come back… as promised.