Meet Me In The Broom Cupboard

Chapter Twelve: Seventh Year, The Battle of Hogwarts (pt. 2)

'Right as rain.' He said, pulling himself up to a seated position.

'Where did you learn that Muggle saying?' Hermione asked, assessing his other injuries while she spoke. He had small cuts and bruises and a sprained ankle which she bound by hand with bandages from her bag.

'You said it to me before.' He said, watching her as she wrapped the bandage around his bare foot and handed him his shoe to carry.

'When?' She asked. A small smile spread across her face as she realised he'd remembered an insignificant conversation of theirs.

'Fifth Year, I think. You were upset about something when we met in there.' He explained, pointing to the broom cupboard. 'I asked if you were alright, you said "right as rain" then proceeded to snog my face off.'

Hermione blushed and tried to hide it, but Draco's hand cupped her warm cheek. She looked into his eyes and brushed his messy hair out of his face.

'I did much prefer snogging your face off than talking about my problems in Fifth Year.' She mumbled. Draco let out a breath, as if he was trying to laugh but was in too much pain.

'Help me up?' He asked quietly.

As he staggered to his feet, one arm around Hermione's shoulder and the other holding his shoe, he contemplated what would happen next. He had two choices as far as he could tell; choose Hermione and hurt her when he was put on trial for his part in the war, or let her go and hope that it didn't hurt too much. He dragged them over to the cupboard and she laughed when she realised where they were going.

'Really?' She asked, helping him sit on one of the shelves.

'For old times sake.' He replied, pulling her onto his lap and looping his arms around her waist.

They sat there for a few minutes, kissing occasionally, and wishing that everything had turned out differently. Wishing that the last two years had been as normal as Fifth Year without the war and without Voldemort.

'We should get back.' Hermione whispered against his lips. Draco's hands were in her hair and he sighed when he realised she was right. He painfully put his shoe back on his injured foot and got up to leave the cupboard. He didn't use her for support this time, instead holding her hand and limping next to her.

Before they entered the Great Hall he stopped her, kissed her one last time, and told her that he'd meet her soon. She smiled, her first genuine smile in a long time, and pecked his cheek before rushing off to find Harry and Ron. Draco stood rooted to the spot and watched as she went back to her friends.

'So, are you finally going to admit that it was Granger you were snogging all through Fifth Year?' Blaise said behind him. Draco laughed and looked over his shoulder as Blaise stood next to him with a huge smirk on his face.

'How the bloody hell would you have known about that, Zabini?'

'You had a new love bite every week.' Blaise deadpanned. 'And Pansy was whining about you all the time so I knew it wasn't her. Doesn't take a genius like myself to work it out.'

Draco sighed and shook his head.

'I'm surprised Potter and Weasley took it so well earlier.' Blaise said.

'So am I.' Draco admitted. 'I don't think they really thought into it too much at the time.'

'So when's the wedding?' Blaise joked.

Draco sighed again. Decision time. 'I can't Blaise. I can't be with her when I could be sent to Azkaban for being a Death Eater.'

'Don't say things like that, Malfoy.' Blaise said, his face deadly serious as he turned to face Draco. 'You helped Potter win earlier, at great personal risk. They won't send you down because your father's a git who forced you into a cult at the age of sixteen.'

'I can't guarantee that.' Draco said, frustrated. 'I can't promise Granger anything until I know that I'm cleared. I won't do that to her.'

'You really care about her don't you?' Blaise asked. 'It's not just snogging in a broom cupboard?'

'If I didn't care about her, I wouldn't be making the choice to leave her out of this.'

'Are you planning on telling her this?' Blaise asked hesitantly. Draco shook his head. 'What if she hates you for making this choice without talking to her first?'

'She wouldn't let me make this decision.' Draco sighed. 'She's too nice. She'd try to act all high and mighty like it wouldn't bother her if I was convicted a war criminal.'

'Isn't that a good thing?'

'No, Blaise!' Draco spat. 'It might not bother her, but it would bother me. Now drop it.'

Blaise held his hands up in surrender and walked towards the Great Hall, wand out and ready to heal. Draco took one last look at Hermione and turned to leave the building. He wasn't planning to run away, just sit and watch the sunrise one last time before he was inevitably taken to the Ministry.

'Not so fast, Mr. Malfoy.' A deep voice said behind him. He turned and faced Kingsley Shacklebolt.

'Is it time?' Draco asked, earning a small flicker of surprise from the soon to be Minister of Magic.

Hermione looked towards the Entrance Hall, looking for Draco, and tried not to let the disappointment show on her face when she realised he was gone.