Love Thy Enemy (Finished)

A Change in the Game

"I'm..ah...I'm sorry Malfoy, I was just cleaning up," I mumble thickly, scattering to pick everything up which promptly falls to the floor again. When I bend to try again, I feel a warm hand on my arm, pulling me back to a standing position.

"Stop Hermione, just leave it. Can you tell me what is wrong please," he says firmly, but not unkindly. My shoulders slump and I give up.

"Just stupid boyfriend crap, it isn't important," I mutter, avoiding eye contact.

"It obviously is important. I'm your friend Hermione, you can tell me," he says and I can easily hear the insecurity in his voice. I realize then that what I decide to say now can either make or break this friendship, and I suddenly realize just how bad I need it right now. So instead of playing it off, and lying, I do something I never expected to do in my wildest dreams, I confide in Draco Malfoy.

"Well, Ron is supposed to love me, he says he does, and I have written him twice since I got back to school. But he has never writen me back and today, when Harry wrote to Ginny, Ron told Harry to tell Ginny to tell me hi. That's it, that is all I have heard from him since I got on the train," I spew quickly, realizing how lame it sounds. I am sure he is just going to laugh, call me immature and walk away.

"He is an idiot," says Draco, and for a second, I am sure I misheard him.

"What?" I ask through a stuffy nose.

"Weasley is an idiot. He obviously doesn't realize what he is risking. Don't let him hurt you like this Hermione. Don't give him this power over you, don't give anyone power over you, ever," insists Draco.

"I don't know why I let this get me so mad. I am not usually this crazy, I swear," I sigh, plunking down on the couch.

"I know that. This war has changed people Hermione, believe me, I know that better than anyone. We have both lost friends, people we loved and cared about. So now, when we see people pulling away, it is even harder to take. But don't let one insignificant flea like Weasley ruin you. You deserve so much better than that," says Draco, kneeling in front of me and placing one long finger under my chin, forcing me to look at him.

His stormy grey eyes burn into mine, forcing me to recognize the hurt and understanding burning in them. And I realize that he actually does know what I am feeling, his family was the same way with him at times, as were his friends. Without really thinking it through, I throw my arms around his neck and hug him tight. There is only a slight hesitation on his part before his arms wind around my waist and he returns my embrace, holding me tight against his chest. I can feel the pounding of his pulse in the base of his neck as it presses against my cheek. His arms are strong and warm around me, providing a sense of comfort and peace I haven't felt since before the war started. I release a deep breath I hadn't realized I was holding and settle in, more than content to stay her for a little piece of forever.

Draco

Hermione is so small and warm in my arms. I can feel her every breath as I hold her tight against me. I inhale deeply, taking in the floral scent of her hair and skin. She feels so soft and breakable but I refuse to let her go. Every dark thought and regret and nightmare that has plagued me since I got caught up in the war slip away as I hold her. Then, her shoulders begin to shake softly and a wet warmth spreads over my shoulder. I realize she is crying again, but I don't say anything. I just carefully shift us until we are both seated semi-comfortably on the couch and I just let her cry.

I don't know exactly when her sobs turned to deep, rhythmic breaths, but eventually I realize she is asleep. For a moment I am at a loss, I don't know what I should do. I could just slip away and leave her sleeping on the couch, or I could just stay here, holding her all night. The second choice is definately the more appealing of the two, but that would probably not be the best thing for either of us. So, moving with a caution I never knew I was capable of, I shift until I am standing with her craddled like a small child in my arms. Her head is still resting on my shoulder and her arms are still around my neck, making it easier to carry her across the common room, through her bedroom door and over to her bed. Carefully, I lean over and lay her down. Her arms slip from around my neck and her face falls to the side as it comes to a rest on the pillow. I manage to free a blanket from under her and, pulling off her shoes, pull it over her.