Marked

The Knight

Chapter 14: The Knight

Hermione hurried into Draco's tent, trying to maintain a grip on all of the small boxes she clutched clumsily in her hands. She'd never spent very much time in his room - it was hardly a comfortable environment, with the dark hardwood floors and his family tree staring her in the face, a silent reminder that she was hardly sacred by any significant wizarding definition - but since she'd already packed up her tent to prepare for their imminent journey, his would have to do.

"I had Dobby smuggle in some muggle hair color for me," she announced, frowning slightly as she held up the labels, trying to read them in the dim lighting of his room. "What would you prefer, 'cinnamon,' 'mocha,' or 'chocolate'?" She paused. "I'm leaning towards 'chocolate,' personally, though I think I might just be hungry."

Normally he would have laughed at this, or more likely, given her a smug "oh, Granger" with a corresponding eye roll, but he didn't look up. He had his back to her, and his pale blond head - which would remain pale and blond for only a matter of hours now before being altered into some kind of dessert-inspired tone - was bent over something she couldn't see.

"Hey," she said quietly, letting the boxes spill out of her hands and onto his emerald green duvet as she slid over next to him. "What's this?" she asked, eyeing the book he held open in his lap.

It was a leather-bound volume entitled King Arthur, a collection of Arthurian legends including Le Morte d'Arthur, that she distinctly remembered having seen twice before. She pulled the book gently from his hands to angle it towards her, leaning her head against his shoulder.

"It's nothing," he assured her softly, though she could see the hint of pain that struck his features as he did so.

"That's not true," she said, biting her lip and leaning back to meet his grey eyes. "You had this book in your room last year. And the Room of Requirement showed it to me before, when we were here alone." She ran her hand down the page, letting her fingers hover delicately over the calligraphy. "This book means something to you."

He seemed to cringe slightly. "It's stupid, honestly," he told her, smoothing his hair back pensively.

She nudged his shoulder gently with her chin. "Try me."

He seemed to search her face for a moment before looking back at the book in his lap, sighing heavily. "When Theo and I were kids, we used to pretend we were in Camelot," he explained, his eyes repeatedly jumping tentatively to hers as though he expected her to laugh at him. "I was King Arthur, and Theo was Lancelot."

He shoved the book away. "It's nothing," he said again.

"It's not nothing," she said quickly, cupping her hand against the nape of his neck. "I - I didn't know."

"Well, why would you?" he sniffed. "I'm hardly a child anymore. And I certainly didn't turn out to be King Arthur," he added distastefully. "I think I fell a bit far from that a long time ago."

"You're making up for it," she said earnestly, biting her lip as a smile crept across her face. "After all, you did make a sword appear, even if it was the Sword of Gryffindor instead of Excalibur."

He grimaced. "I don't care so much about the glory anymore," he said with a smirk. "It doesn't really matter, if I never become a hero. I guess - " he paused. "I guess it's more that having the book around just helps me feel closer to Theo, somehow."

This was the first time they were discussing this and Hermione instantly felt queasy with nerves, never sure how to handle him when he was in a sharing mood. After all, it happened so very rarely, and he was usually much more willing to let her magically dive inside his head rather than to speak his emotions out loud.