"Myrtle, how many friends have you made over the years?" Draco asked lazily, drawing wisps of clouds from his wand.
"There's you..." The apparition giggled, "... and Harry. Cedric was so shy..." She sighed, "... but so pretty. I had hoped when he died that he would become a ghost here. We don't have many pretty ghosts..."
"Friends help each other, don't they?" Draco turned his steely gaze towards her simpering form.
"Yes, yes." She breathed coyly, pushing herself near the Slytherin and he smiled.
"You can go anywhere in the castle, can't you?"
"Of course I can." There was a little hurt in her voice, offended that the boy might insinuate that she was somehow lesser than all the other ghosts at Hogwarts.
"It's just that I never see you in the dungeons," Draco tacked on quickly.
"And why should I go to the dungeons? The Slytherin girls are vile and cruel to poor little old me." Myrtle stifled a sob.
"You're not going to the dungeons to see the girls," Draco dropped his head back, eyes closed, allowing her to draw her own conclusions. Myrtle giggled at the prospect.
"I have a problem, though." He said, looking up at her through his fine, blond lashes, knowing the effect it must have on girls. "Something that only you can help with."
"What is it?" The girl asked with a tiny bit of haughtiness, enjoying the feeling of being wanted and needed.
"I-I've been asked to do something, and..." Draco began, feigning vulnerability. "If I can't– if I fail to do my task, I'm afraid I won't be coming back to Hogwarts."
"Oh, noo..." Moaned Moaning Myrtle, "How can I help?"
There was a ghost of a smirk on Draco's lips but it vanished as fast as it appeared, almost as though it was merely a trick of the light.
"If you could keep an eye on the new professor... Professor Selgentar... I need to know everything there is to know about her. But you mustn't let her see you..."
"Don't worry, Draco..." Myrtle purred. "She won't suspect a thing."
Satisfied, Draco bid his goodbyes and headed to class. During potions, Hermione intentionally drew his attention by saying, "Our class ferret seems to be looking better, d'you think he was really ill, or just ferreting around?"
"Ferreting around," He snorted, "Rich, that. Is that why you spend all your time at the library? Finding new words to prove how clever you are?"
"Enough," Professor Snape drawled, with a note of approval. "Don't lower yourself, Draco, it's unbecoming."
The Slytherin prince leaned back with a smug look, but in fact, he was worrying over whether she understood his hint. Unwilling to fail, he scribbled a note and sent it flying to her desk. When she turned to glare at him, he gave an earnest look for a split second before rearranging his features to look coolly bored, which was the expression Ron caught when he looked up.
The next time you're at the library, you might want to look up Witty Witchy Comebacks
Hermione rolled her eyes at the comment and chucked it at Ron so he could stop straining to see what was written.
"That git," He breathed.
When classes were over for the day, Hermione rushed to the Great Hall and was gone before Ron had even swallowed his first mouthful.
"Where's she gone off to in such a hurry?" Ron looked quizzically at Harry who only shrugged.
There was no admitting it, but Draco did care for Hermione. He thought her to be the most brilliant witch during his first year and was absolutely torn to see her becoming friends with the great Harry Potter - the boy who left him hanging. The boy who spurned his hand. The boy who rejected his friendship. It was out of shame that he picked on him every chance he got.
He had let slip Hermione's name to his father a few times, complaining of her intelligence when in fact he was enchanted by it. Like a magpie which is blinded by things that shine, Draco wasn't able to look past the beauty of her mind. Until his father began his tirade about how he had brought shame upon the family for losing out to a muggle-born girl with no great ancestry, whereas he was a Malfoy.
Every criticism tore at his convictions until he was split into a ragged version of himself. A monster filled with patches of admiration and holes filled with vehemence and intolerance for anything better than perfect in his father's eyes. At times, he found himself loathing the person he looked up to, hating how he made him feel. Other times, he let his father's convictions fill him with ideas of grandeur and that Malfoys were royalty that nothing tarnishes.
Something about the way the library door shut softly had his nerves on high alert. Unwilling to seem eager, he leaned back on his chair and rocked it backwards, letting his hair fall into his eyes and knowing how handsome he would look in the light. He could almost fancy himself one of those celestial beings muggles seemed to worship so much. A small smile tugged at the side of his lips and he allowed it, confident that it would make him all the more charming.
"Fancy seeing you here." She started with a grin.
"Here on my recommendation?" He retaliated, one eyebrow cocked but a smile on his face.
"Witty Witchy Comebacks, was it?"
They both laughed at the ridiculous idea, easing them back into the camaraderie of their early days.
"You got my message," Draco said, pleased.
"You couldn't have made it any more obvious," Hermione answered, sitting across the table from him, drinking in his apparent health and fervor.
"I needed to make sure you knew what I was saying, that I wanted to meet at the library."
"You did a great job, but there's really an easier way." She produced two Galleons, "I've been playing around with the Protean Charm and this should allow us to communicate more effectively. Look, if you write on yours, it appears on mine. It also turns warm when there's a message so you'd know to look."
Draco knew he wouldn't need that warning. He wasn't going to take his eyes off the Galleon at all.
"Isn't this what you used last year with your little gang of rebels? Another reason why you should have been in Slytherin."
"I wouldn't want to rob Pansy of her ringleader status, she wouldn't have any friends if I were in Slytherin." Hermione laughed. It was too vindictive for her, but she was feeling a bit devil-may-care.
"Why did you want to see me?" Never one for small talk, Hermione dove right into the heart of the situation. Maybe sensing how serious it was, or perhaps, having waited for this moment, she was impatient to wait any longer.
"I have decided to tell you the truth." The words weighed a ton because he knew that there was not going back from this. "The truth isn't going to change anything, but at least we'll be free from it."
He then launched into his tale, telling Hermione everything, from the task given to him by Lord Voldemort, to Professor Selgentar's interest in him. He had thought about lying about his Dark Mark but couldn't see how it would benefit him. If Hermione decided to wash her hands of him after he told her everything, all the better. He can move forward without holding on to the illusion that there was something else for him in this life... But while Hermione's face paled and punctuated his story with little gasps, she continued to listen.
"... which brings us to right now. She made the mistake of thinking that she could threaten me. I'm done playing her games. I want to play on my terms." There was fire in his eyes and Hermione, mesmerized by the way he talked, reached out and took his hand.
"We'll do it together."
YOU ARE READING
The Lost Timeline | Dramione | ✔
Fanfiction"Do not make the mistake of thinking I care what you think of me." She looked down and saw her book in his other hand. The unexpected kindness in the midst of poison was more than she could bear and she took it from him quickly before breaking into...
