The Grey In His Eyes! Dramoine Story (Draco & Hermione)

Chapter Nine ~ The Other Turncoat

As time passed, signs became clearer and clearer that somebody was giving the other side information. The problem was, they didn't know who it is. Everyone was accusatory of each other, but perhaps the person who got the most bullshit was Draco.

He had told his fellow Order members to 'fuck off' and that he would've dropped dead if he had broken his Vow to Potter, but regardless of the evidence they had, he was still the outcast. He was sure that whoever the traitor was felt the same way in the Death Eaters that he did here. Even Granger didn't trust him anymore.

Sure, she said she did. She said she still believed in him just as much, that she still thought he was a good person. He wished she meant it... But he wasn't quite sure that her declaration that she thought he was a good man was true in the first place.

He wished that they all could see it. He wasn't a perfect man, or a fucking archangel like Potter, but he wasn't bad, either. Like he had told Granger, he was grey. Neither light nor dark; a little bit of both. But his white was starting to outweigh his black.

He missed Granger. He missed everything about her. Her smiles, her witty comments, even her superior attitude. Something was missing from his life now that she wasn't there. There was a hole where she should've been.

The silver lining was gone. Now all he was left with was the massive black hole and the weight it forced him to carry. He wondered why the cross he had to carry was so much bigger than the others'.

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Knock. Knock. Knock.

Draco pounded determinedly on Hermione's door, set on getting her to open it. "Granger I know you're in there... We need to talk!"

She groaned internally, determined not to groan externally the way she wanted to so that Draco wouldn't be able to tell she was in there.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

"I know you think I'm the traitor but if you'd hear me out then... well, it would be nice to have someone to talk to".

Ah, there was that begging again. He was becoming nothing more than the average softie. He looked up to the ceiling to see mistletoe. Perfect, he thought, Remind me of what I don't have.

She felt a flash of pity for Malfoy, but then she remembered that he could easily be the spy. After all, they were out when the unknown person was watching them.

"Could you please open the bloody door, Granger?" he asked harshly, raising his voice. "I've been shunned all week and it would be great if someone would actually talk to me. There's five days until Christmas and I'm being treated like I don't exist".

Finally she gave in, coming out of her room and walking into the kitchen. "What do you want?" she questioned a little too sharply. "It's half past midnight".

It was quite hard for him to ignore the fact that she was wearing only a bathrobe... "Like you were sleeping. You're just as bad of an insomniac as I am. Your brain is always whirring".

She raised an eyebrow. "Tea?"

He shook his head. "No. I prefer firewhiskey". He summoned a large bottle of it with a lazy flick of his wand and poured himself a glass, downing it in one sip.

She frowned. "Why do you drink so much?"

"Why do you care?" he replied.

"It's - it's not good to drown out the pain, you know. It hits you harder when it comes back that way; And alcohol's bad for you, too".

"You know what else is bad for me?" he drawled, pouring himself another glass. "War, being untrusted by everyone, and not having any parents. Hell, I almost hope that the alcohol kills me. It would make things a whole lot easier".