Chapter Five

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Harry had not spoken a word. Neither had Draco, although he had rolled his sleeve back down, and now clutched his arm in a way that looked so painful, Harry believed Draco wanted to rip it off. Both boy's eyes were watery: the green and the grey. Neither would look at the other. Harry plucked up the courage to speak, covering the words on his hand that had hurt both of them with his other hand. "Draco." No reply. "Draco?" Silence. "I know you_"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Brother?"

"I said I will not speak of it!"

"I imagine you're upset; I am too. You have to show that to Madam Pomfrey: it looks ghastly. You need it looked at."

"I do not care. It's true. It's all true." A tear ran down Draco's white face. "I am unworthy. I do not deserve to be the firstborn son."

"Draco! Stop telling yourself these lies!"

Draco was despairing; the expression on his face was one of utmost misery, anxiety and sadness.

"I SHOULD DIE! I should kill, or be killed. I could simply walk up to Voldemort and say, "please kill me."

Harry tried to grab Draco, but his twin stood up.

"I will go now. You will not know where to find me. I will be gone. You are the Chosen One, Harry. Only you can defeat him. Dumbledore knows. Snape knows. It's all in the pensieve. Trust them. Trust them, and you shall understand your destiny."

Draco left, leaving Harry somewhat confused, disjointed, and alone.

*

Curfew had passed at least an hour ago. Hermione wanted only to seek the stars at the top of her tower. Ravenclaw tower. The news Malfoy had told her through those two books in the library had brought a major change to Hermione's history. She had already read through cover to cover, and believed that she may be Half-blood. If she could find Malfoy, and thank him, she would. Climbing the spiral stairs, a muffled noise echoed. Were there people, talking? Was Umbridge climbing after her? The noise seemed to continue, but it wasn't loud. It was soft but not soft in a discreet way. It was simply... muffled. What she saw at the top of the stairs, facing out, looking at the grounds below and the stars above, was none other than Draco Malfoy.

"Malfoy?" He stiffened. She suddenly realised what the noise was. It was coming from the boy, and his body seemed to be wracked with coughs. He turned and the words froze in her mouth. For Draco Malfoy was crying, sobbing; tears cascading down his long nose, staining his robes. He seemed unashamed, standing there; he didn't bother to wipe away his tears as he simply looked at her. And her heart went out to his.

"Draco."

What she thought were coughs were just extremely violent sobs. Was he grieving? Had someone died? She did the only thing she thought humane. She walked over to her nemesis and put an arm round him.

Draco relaxed as Hermione embraced him, holding him to her as he cried freely; pleading his life's problems through salty water from his eyes, and praying for forgiveness, for redemption... for hope. And for a while they stood, arms round each other. And somehow, though he had uttered only silence, she understood. She felt his pain, she knew his sorrow and she realised that she should soothe his tears, and his grief. After a few minutes of the stars witnessing this miracle, they broke apart. The expression on Malfoy's face wasn't disgust, as usual when staring at her; it was gratitude. And Hermione watching him, knew her face showed only sadness: his sadness, reflected onto her. Draco didn't know where his courage had come from, but he reached out, and hoping for comfort, took her hand. And she didn't resist. It wasn't the books that had told her of human psychology and when to pity, and when not. It was simply watching a human with the most puzzling expressions, whose face was impassive when observed, but full of emotion when not. No words were needed. He rolled up his sleeve and looked at her face as she read the words that had caused such pain. She buried her head in his shoulder, her arm once more guiding his shoulders to relax. It could have been hours later, when she removed her guidance. She rolled his sleeve back down and her arm fell back to her side. Draco wanted to thank her, in any way. He could not speak; emotion had frozen his tongue. But not his lips. He pulled her to him and gently, softly, kissed her on the lips. Then he let go. And Hermione looked at him with compassion and sorrow, and walked away. The stars were now only his; he was alone with them in the wonder that was darkness.

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