Chapter Text
In all his lifetime, if there was something Draco Malfoy was acutely aware of — it was his inability to do things in moderation. Whatever it was that concerned him, had to be done to excess. He believed in his morals to the point of suffocation and loathed with a passion enough to be mistaken for love. However all that was seeming to fall apart. The looking glass through which he saw the world was cracking and in its distorted reflection, all he found was his broken self. He'd trace the various cracks — some small, hairline scratches and some big, gaping, like wounds pouring forth invisible blood — and every time it'd leave him breathless.
There was no beauty in those fractures, no wholeness to belong to and cry for… and yet something swelled in his heart and splinched it all the same. Every time.
Life had been no better for as long as his remembrance stretched. All he was ever doing was running away.
Run away from his deepest secrets, nightmares and obligations.
Run away from the inevitable.
He was cheating fate itself and it made him laugh bitterly.
'Oh for the love of life…'
He closed his eyes.
And now that he came here, running away from the hands of death, to find refuge in the only place he felt an ironical belonging to, cruel fate imposed itself before him in the shape of an insufferable know-it-all. Hermione Granger, sickeningly righteous to the very core and laughably impossible to deal with. He sardonically lamented to himself, the clear memory of the morning playing before his eyes.
"I am sure he has suffered enough…" her voice still felt unreal to his ears. Tendrils of anger cut through his vision like white-hot knife and in a rare outburst (for Malfoys never yielded to petty things like 'emotions'), he sent the pile of books on his bed down crashing on the floor. He felt childish, belittled, misplaced. He wanted to go on a full blown rampage and tear up everything. Maybe then it'd quiet that thumping heart of his and not make his head reel. Maybe then he'd find peace.
Maybe then he'd have happiness.
His head was spinning and he was having double vision. 'I think I might die.' Swaying dangerously, like a man drunk on the despair of life, he fell down on his sprawling four poster bed. His heart, so very weak and fragile, splintered into countless pieces. He felt like crying, abandoning himself to wild hopelessness. His eyes were stinging, tears threatening to spill over. However he was a Malfoy and before any other traitorous feelings could creep into his system, he brought the large oversized pillow to his face and almost stifled himself to death in a bid to dry up any stray tear that might have escaped.
'Man up, Draco! Why should you be so bothered by what life throws at you? Aren't you a Malfoy? Malfoys are always excellent in self preservation and this rather unfortunate situation is just another opportunity for you to actually stamp out every bit of light from that Mudblood's pathetic life.' He scoffed at his particularly eloquent prep talk.
After another fifteen minutes or so of laying death still on his bed — all the time talking himself into foolish acceptance — he finally hopped up, doing a neat job of wandwork with his ruffled, shaken appearance, leaving behind no traces of an abominable weakness anyone (not even himself) could accuse of.
'Yes Draco, you got it.'
To Draco, his mask of indifference was all that he could put up before himself. It made himself feel whole (no matter how fake)...
… and it didn't hurt to wish on a scar, did it?
Hermione was really not keen about any company right then. All she wanted was some fresh air to clear her head and maybe a couple of uninterrupted hours in the deceiving silence of the Astronomy Tower. Everyone was gone by then — off to their next class — but poor Hermione! She was hunching down on one of the steps of the spiralling staircase, feeling utterly rattled and conflicted. Her conscience knew it was wrong of her to be skipping classes like that but another part of that conscience also knew that she could probably not last the trip down the stairs without sitting down again and breaking into hysterics.
'Why? Why does it have to be me?'
Had she known the Eighth Year was going to be this difficult, she'd have plain dropped out of school and thought of some other alternative. Sighing, she put her head on her folded knees, feeling so exhausted and drained out. By then, maybe everyone knew about her defending Draco and she wondered how Harry and Ron would take it in. Maybe it would be another explanation session. Maybe the Gryffindors would outcast her… She became surprised by her own vacillation. She did no wrong in defending him… 'but why should I be involved with what the hell he does?!'
She didn't know what to make of things — so much for being 'The Brightest Witch of Her Age.'
'My foot!'
Standing up, she suddenly stormed down the steps, headed off to the Gryffindor common room. 'You need to do something Hermione.'
"Professor McGonagall, please ask Granger to not bother herself with me. I can do my studies fairly on my own." Draco tried to appear as calm and unperturbed as possible, as he stared down at the Professor, seemingly occupied with some official parchments.
"Mr. Malfoy, I know you two share quite an 'amicable' history but sometimes you have to look past petty differences and think about the greater picture —"
"I don't think you follow me. I *am* looking at the 'greater picture' and that's why I am trying to call this off before it gets beyond our hands. I don't want to associate myself with that Muggleborn." Draco's voice was trembling with borderline panic and he knew it reflected poorly of his self-control, but he just couldn't keep still. The bottled anger, frustration seemed to swell within him, blurring his vision again and before it could affect his present judgement, he grabbed onto his robes, his fists white-knuckled with the effort.
Professor McGonagall, as if sensing Draco's discomfiture, looked up from her pile of paperwork. "Mr. Draco Malfoy. I shouldn't have to remind you that you are still not fully acquitted of your deeds by the Wizengamot. Yes, we did tell everyone that you *are* but that's still subject to reconsideration. If you do not show signs of positive development, you'll be open to trials again.
"Miss Granger is the most trusted option we have here! As the Head of this school, it's my duty to safeguard the rights and interests of my students, abiding by the rules and regulations that have been set down. You are no exception, Mr. Malfoy. I can stretch the law only so much that you may be safe but do you not have *any* responsibility? Didn't you see how they reacted? Nobody was willing to believe in you, not even your friends, but Granger.
"Can't you see —" and her voice dropped, becoming almost a bare whisper, "—that Hermione Granger is your golden ticket to redemption?"
Draco's eyes suddenly went wide. Suddenly he felt as if the air within the room had grown twice as rarer.
"What do you mean?" It came out of his hesitant lips, another whisper telling of a creeping fear.
"She's a War Hero. Her background is enough to change the way people think about you *provided* you two co-operate. She's one of them who drafted the new Constitution post War and her word carries far greater significance than any of us! Believe me, Draco! Her testimony bears the power to free you of this pain and sufferance! Just a few days, Draco and you'll be acquitted for your lifetime!"
A chill ran down his spine. Sitting on the armchair, body rigid with an unanticipated shock, he stared at Professor McGonagall in an arrested stance.
"Look, Draco. Your mother is very worried about you and she has personally asked me to make sure you are safe and well. I'm not being partial in any way. Narcissa is going through so much…" and there was a catch in her voice, "... I'm worried about you too Draco. I know you committed a mistake but you are repenting and I am just trying to help you.
"Think of your mother, Draco. Think of the hopes she has for you. Will you disappoint her too, Draco?" And that was enough. He knew she was referring to that *scumbag* of a father he had and he dropped his gaze. What he didn't know was why he felt flustered — was it anger or embarrassment?
He stood up with a startle and was about to leave when Professor McGonagall stopped him. "So Mr. Malfoy, shall I assume that you will behave?" She looked over her half-moon glasses, an uncanny glint in her cat-like eyes.
"Professor McGonagall, please ask Granger when she'd like to start the… whatever it is!"
She gave a small smile. "I knew you'd come around, Malfoy. Ask Granger to meet me at my office at 5, and you too."
Draco said nothing and stormed out of the office.
After having steeled herself from whatever accusations people might throw at her, she slowly proceeded towards the Gryffindor Common Room. Before she could utter the password to the Fat Lady, the door swung open and a disheveled Ron stepped out. If Hermione knew any better, he was barely holding it together.
"Mi, why would you do it? Why'd you defend that ferret!" It was more of a demand rather than some accusation and she flinched as Ron's anger spilled over, echoing throughout the hallway.
"Ron! Control yourself buddy! Let's talk this out calmly. I'm sure she has her reasons…"
"No Harry! Leave me—" Ron pushed away Harry's hands and rushed towards Hermione — his eyes had a craziness akin to that of a wild animal. "Do you always have to be so *bloody* righteous? How can you defend someone who practically *tortured* you!"
The three of them became still. Harry was gaping at Ron. "Ron you didn't just…
"Hermione! Hermione, wait! I'm sure we can work this out! Hermione!" Harry was running behind her but she never looked back nor did she falter. She hurtled on, her legs carrying her forward as if they had a mind of their own. It surprised her how fast she could run… 'and maybe just like that I can outrun these years too.'
'Why are you crying, you fool? Why are you crying over his words? Did you like him that much? Did you give him that much strength to hurt you?'
'Didn't you see that coming?'
Her tears fell endlessly, her heart lurching within her. Her legs, emaciated from all the sudden effort, were feeling limp, jelly-like and she just wanted to fall down and disappear from the surface of the earth and never look at anyone —
"—What the bloody hell is this!" She knew the voice, it was too familiar to be forgotten. That cold, callous drawl… it was none other than Draco Malfoy's. "Granger? Are you crying?"
For a while, she couldn't believe her ears. 'Is it really him? Why is he here?'
'Why does he care?'
"Granger? You haven't gone mental, have you?" And then more like an afterthought, she could hear him muttering to himself, "Maybe the fall was bad."
"Fall? Who fell?" She said slowly, her mind hazy with zillions of thoughts spinning in there.
Draco was marching down the deserted hallway, the words of Professor McGonagall still ringing in his ears.
'Think of your mother, Draco. Think of the hopes she has for you. Will you disappoint her, Draco?'
And suddenly the anger, the deep buried denial dissolved, melting away into nothingness. It's true he was being very selfish, wasn't he? He was walking under the same shadow of his *bastard* father. How could he let her down too? Ever since he could perceive things, he has seen how his mother lived each day. Always precariously on the edge of a knife. One trip and down you went. She did put up a tough front but he *knew*. He knew she was dying within everyday and he also knew that he was eating away at her life. He made her life for him, he made her suffer because of his inability. Redemption? He wanted to laugh. Did he even deserve it?
He knew she was risking her life trying to protect him and he felt ashamed of himself. Here he was — a coward hiding from the reality, deliberately averting his eyes and wrongfully holding onto petty grievances.
'Pathetic. You are so pathetic!'
He was relatively calmer, his anger having subsided, and his emotions were mostly tinged with the lingering thoughts that the voice within a city at sunset tells of — vignettes of a day having gone by, a bittersweet aftertaste in the mouth. He realised he was wiser and that dealing with Granger didn't even seem so much of a problem. All he needed to do was hold his ground and not sway.
'Yes Draco. Then Mother won't have to worry…' He was lost in his newfound epiphany, his eyes fixed on the floor when suddenly someone collided with him.
"—What the bloody hell is this!"
Owing to his Seeker reflexes, he was jolted out of his limbo and almost unthinkingly, he reached out his hands, trying to steady the other person but then he saw the face and for a while she was unrecognisable but it hit him.
'Wait, what? Granger?'
The shock was so utter that his weight gave in and down he went, along with her, on the floor, scattering her parchments in the air. The dust pushed up in his nose and he was sneezing. Well he was allergic to dust and he hadn't cast the anti-allergy spell earlier in the morning because he was too *occupied*. To save him the embarrassment, he quickly coughed up the spell and for the time being it was good enough for damage control. He really hoped she hadn't noticed because nobody knew about it other than his mother and he'd rather die than have people know about his weakness. His prayers seemed to have been answered for there she was — Hermione Granger sprawled confusedly on the floor, blinking stupidly at him… "Granger? Are you crying?"
'Merlin, she *is* crying.'
Her swollen, red rimmed eyes looked at him and he couldn't quite place it. Why would she cry? Was it because of what happened in the morning? Well he wasn't expecting to be affected by whatever it was that concerned her but then it's not like he wanted anyone to cry over him, especially *Mudblood* out of all the people. He was beyond pity, at least that was what he believed. No one asked her to stand up for him and he wasn't looking for cheap pity and he was grumpy because now he was indebted to her.
However he was kind of relieved. Relieved that after all this, she'd regret her decision. That she'd see through the fallacy of her misplaced optimism and come around to her spiteful self. Then they had nothing on each other and they would go back to being what they should be — sworn enemies — and not two helpless, forlorn beings shunned by the society and herded in misfortune.
He realised she was still staring at him. He was half-thinking it was probably a case of concussion but then she could have been temporarily shocked too. 'She didn't hit her head… right?'
"Granger? You haven't gone mental, have you?" Then he suddenly muttered to himself, "Maybe the fall was bad."
"Fall? Who fell?" She suddenly spoke, her throat thick and croaky.
"Bloody Merlin, I terribly hope Granger that you are regretting your decision. It's really no great deal if you want to call it quits right now because I get it that it's difficult for you —"
"Malfoy? Who fell?"
"Seriously? You slammed into me, do you remember? Or were you so really out of it? Gosh! Why do I even care? Here, come on. I think I'm having a concussion right now too. Come, I think you need some space to clear your head. You want to go to the library?" He didn't even know what he was saying at that point but as he said, *maybe* it was really a concussion or some tiny speck of guilt or some of that gloating sense of self-esteem. Nonetheless, he helped her up.
However suddenly she flew into a rage and shoved away his hands. Fresh tears rolling down her flushed face and hair all wild and everywhere, she was looking like a nightmare waiting to unleash. "I never asked for your help! Why, you pity me? It's fun for you, isn't it? I'm not some punchbag for people to come vent their feelings at! I'm a human too! And I have feelings too! Why do I have to be looking like some damsel in distress waiting for help?" She was more like a sobbing mess at this point and if there was anymore that she wanted to say, it got swallowed in those sobbings.
Draco was shell-shocked. Before he could even react, she went off, not bothering to pick up her scattered parchments lying about on the floor.