Lies, Buried and Bound - A Dramione Story

Part Ten

Draco was hopelessly confused. Who in the bloody hell was "C?" It kept him up nearly all night and it was still bouncing around in the back of his mind at breakfast... it just made no sense to him.

He drafted a flowchart on a placemat with a permanent marker - a list of all the people at Hogwarts that Hermione would've known whose names started with "C."

Cedric Diggory. Unfortunately, Cedric was very much dead. Amos Diggory too keenly reminded him yesterday, so it couldn't have belonged to him.

Draco crossed that name off.

Cormac McLaggen. No one had heard from him in years, he graduated the year before... before the Wizarding War. And if he recalled correctly, there was a period of time in which Hermione had actually gone out with the arse-wipe, but no one had really bought into that. After all, McLaggen's ego highly surpassed his IQ. But still, he had no reason to rule McLaggen out other than for the pure hope that he truly was out of the picture.

Cho Chang? If the way Hermione had gone down on him inside that cove behind that tapestry in year six was anything to go by, he was confident Hermione was perfectly into men rather than women. But he still couldn't be certain.

Colin Creevey. Oh god, he hoped that the handkerchief didn't belong to that... child.

Draco paused for a moment. Wasn't there a Weasley whose name started with "C?" He was pretty sure there was, but he still listed them off in his head. Weasel, weaselette, twin weasels, pissy weasel, wolf weasel... he knew in his gut there was another redhead - there were seven children!

But then he had a realisation. What if the letter was not a "C" but a "G" with a missing stitch? The handkerchief looked handmade, and the fabric was a bit thicker than one might expect. Visually, he found no evidence that there were missing stitches and that the "C" really was a "G" in disguise, but he was riding on the brink of total paranoia.

Looking into people whose names started with "G" opened up several new painful pathways of possibilities. George Weasley, Ginny, Goyle?! (Though he seriously doubted Hermione would ever love a dolt such as Gregory Goyle.)

But then he remembered she was brave enough to take her chances with him. Multiple times. If it was possible to love a Death Eater, then surely it was nice to love a bully like Goyle.

Fuck! He was prodding into the darker, more insecure parts of his mind. Places that once crossed into, were not easy to escape from.

He capped the marker and pressed his head into the table, willing the heat to leave his face so that he wouldn't cry.

Stop, Draco, stop, he pleaded with himself. She's a good person that took a chance on you. But don't hurt yourself by taking on heights too far out of your reach.

Arms laid out on the table and his head touching the wood, Draco sighed and breathed in cool air. Then he came up, steepled his fingers together under his chin, and stayed as mindless as possible.

"Hey, mate."

"Blaise, how'd you get in?"

Blaise raised a brow as he began to raid the Malfoy's muggle contraption known as a refrigerator, "Erm, I have a key. You gave one to me, Luna, and Theo, remember? Not to mention, the Floo Network is always open."

"Right, right, that's... sorry."

"You okay, Draco?"

"Do you want the truth or the lie?"

"Truth."

"I'm dreadful and I just want to turn all my emotions off again."

The dark-skinned wizard pulled a chair out and sat beside his friend, "Ah, I see. Now, just out of curiosity, what would you have said if I'd asked for the lie?"