Innocent

c h a p t e r t h i r t e e n

BREATH IN. BREATH OUT. 

Hermione raced down the stairs, and past the banners. Please. Dread continued traveling up her throat like vomit. If Malfoy hadn't reset the spell on the closet, she could snag another bottle of Wolfsbane. If he did- She took one last breath. She did not want to confront him right now. It was too risky over the fact his face bathed her vision in red. 

The door loomed in front of her like a tombstone. She pulled the door open. The dark void encompassed her, as the door clicked softly behind her. The closet was at her left. Breath in. She studied the stained coloring of the closet door and the rusted hinges. 

"Please."  She murmured under her breath. 

She gave a short tug on the handle. The door jostled but stayed shut. Maybe it was just jammed. She gave it another tug, already knowing the ending result. It was locked. He must have reset the charm, and she had no way of getting in. Of course, Malfoy wasn't stupid enough to leave the door wide open again. Anyone, including her, could creep in and steal potions. Her vision grew hazier. Another pulse went through her skull. Anger welled in Hermione's stomach. Screw him. Screw Malfoy. Screw everything. One moment Hermione was staring at the door, and the next her fist was throbbing. Her hand was stretched out towards the door, in a punching motion. It hadn't even left a dent. She numbly clenched her fist in her hands. This was going to leave a bruise. 

This was the last time she was going to talk to him. She would figure out the charm for unlocking the door on her own, and then she would get Wolfsbane. Hermione walked up the steps slower this time. Her fist was turning into a red galaxy with red stars. Gosh, it hurt. Punching walls? That wasn't like her at all. She took a step around the corner. He was probably out practicing for quidditch. This is the last time, then it's over,  she reminded herself. 

Outside, the grass was still damp. Faint mist hugged the hill, and the quidditch stadium. Shadow like figures flitted through her mind, whizzing around. She could feel their presence in her mind. It was almost like looking at things from the farthest corner of her eyes. She could sense them, but the constant focus caused her head to hurt. 

Hermione walked towards the lake. She knew she was delaying the encounter, but she preferred anything over his face. Just thinking of his eyes on her made her want to disappear- and punch him in the face. And help him. A small portion of her, wanted to pity him and tempt him out of his shell. Thinking about it all, made her hate that part of her even more. She focused back on the quidditch stadium. It was now or never. She summoned the fading strength inside. 

The quidditch stadium was almost empty. The few players flew down and dismounted. The fog engulfed the whole sky, encompassing the entire world into a snow globe. Hermione saw the last few players sweep down to the field like eagles, and pull abrupt stops. Just watching them fly, sent a jolt through her body. She craved that exhilaration. Just to spin freely, and speed, and let go. She shook her head. Focus. From what she could make out, they were all Slytherin players. None of them had taken notice of her. Either that, or she was really invisible. After the war, most Slytherins seemed to pretend she didn't even exist. She looked around for Malfoy. As she advanced, more players formulated from the fog. His figure was leaning against a wooden pillar. He was pushing his broom into the dirt with a defeated look on his face. 

"Malfoy."

He didn't move. 

"Malfoy, I need to talk to you."

He was still silent. She almost felt like screaming at him for all the crap she'd gone through, but she tried to hold herself together. Hermione felt like a piece of wood that was splintering into crisps and dust.