Hogwarts seemed quieter, even darker than normal, as though it were being swallowed gradually into an almost imperceptible abyss. The crescent moon was too thin to reflect any substantial light and the stars were all hidden behind dark clouds. While it was not yet that late, it was after curfew and the majority of torches were out until they sensed a presence, but even then they were very dim.
He had been wandering around the castle aimlessly. Whether to find solace in a few minutes of solitude or to escape any reminder of his past, it didn't matter. Neither would come from walking the corridors. A scorch mark here, a bit of rubble there. His past lived in every hallway and followed him everywhere he went, like a shadow constantly berating him for his choices and his failures. Even after graduation, he would never be able to outrun the awareness of what he did and everything he had seen.
Deciding it was time to make his way back to the dungeons, Draco Malfoy descended the steps on the south side of the second floor. Before he entered the main passage to the stairwell that would bring him to his dormitories, there was a sound echoing through the darkness. Soft at first and muffled by the large wooden doors that separated him from the origin, his first thought was that the ghost of a young girl.
Anyone would be able to identify the sound as heavy whimpering, sobbing almost, and justifiably assume it was Moaning Myrtle. However, this one particular student was unique in that he could identify exactly who it was on the other side of the door. He knew who it was without any visual confirmation because had heard her before. In fact, he would never be rid of her. Even in the still of the night, Draco could hear her crying. Sometimes, he thought his ears would bleed from the mere memory of her screaming. In the darkness, he could see her face, and would never be able to forget the look of terror in her eyes.
He wasn't sure why she had looked at him, perhaps because he was the only person there she actually knew. The only familiarity in a room of adults who wanted to cause her pain, who wanted her to bleed out and die.
He'd never forget the feeling that rushed through him as he saw what dripped from her body. Her blood. Red and viscous, the same as his own. He knew it would be, deep down, but it was startling how undeniable it was in that moment.
They were the same.
No. That wasn't true.
From a young age, she had made him question everything he had ever known. Everything his parents told him, everything he and his friends believed to be universal truth. Lies. All of it. He was furious when he discovered that the brown-nosing, mudblood swot out ranked him in every class. A girl with no prior knowledge of magic was able to surpass every single note he had received in their first school year. His father had been merciless, goading him for allowing such an embarrassment to fall upon the family. Second year was the same. Even with the fear of falling victim to the heir of Slytherin, her grades never wavered. Third year, she appeared to be suffering and he thought to finally have her bested. She was exhausted, stressed and completely isolated from her friends, whereas he thrived. End of the year approached. Not only did she have three classes more to her name than he did, but she beat him again in each one they shared. She beat him, physically and academically that year. It was humiliating. Fourth year was no different, even when helping prevent her prat of a friend from dying. Not that he needed it, Potter had the 'not dying' thing down annoyingly well. Fifth year, he could barely show his face around his father. Of course, as always, she outranked him again. Sixth year didn't matter. She excelled but that was the least of their concerns. He had a task. One she would have accomplished more efficiently than he had no doubt, but one she never would have taken. Because they were different.
They weren't the same at all. She was pure and he stood by while others tried to sully her.
⁂
"DON'T TOUCH ME! Don't! Don't! Please don't, please." She was panicking. In all of the years that he had known Hermione Granger, he never once saw her panic over anything other than test scores. But this. This was deeply troubling, because he had seen this look on her before. She wasn't just panicking, she was scared. Terrified that he would hurt her. He had never hurt her though, not physically. He had never laid a finger on the witch, so why did she expect him to now?
He put both hands up in front of her so she could see them and spoke to her as softly as he could. "Okay. Okay, I'm not going to touch you, Granger. I wouldn't. Only if you asked me to and I'm sure that would never happen." He tried lightening the mood slightly, maybe enough for her to relax, but then something clicked. Something that made Draco's insides turn. "Who did touch you?"
⁂
"Granger. Who touched you?
⁂
"Password?"
Draco stood in front of a large portrait containing a pale woman in a pink dress who wore a scowl that rivaled that of everyone else who looked down upon Draco. "You know I don't know the password," he growled.
"Then you may not enter."
"Obviously, you stupid bint. Can you at least get Potter?" She didn't look like she was going to go anywhere at his request, which was fair. He probably shouldn't have called her a 'stupid bint'. "It's an emergency."
"Why does every emergency involve that boy?"
"I don't know, but this one is involving Granger and I need him to come out right now!"
She looked wary, but she turned and left her frame, coming back less than a minute later. Before she was fully within her portrait, the door swung out and Draco stumbled to get out of the way.
"Malfoy?"
"You need to come with me, right now."
"Yea, right. Why would Harry go anywhere with you?" He hadn't asked for anyone else, but he should have known better than to expect Potter to go anywhere without his pet weasel.
"I know how unlikely this is, but you both need to follow me. Granger needs you."
They looked concerned, but not nearly concerned enough. "Where is she?"
"The girl's lavatory, second floor." Potter gave Draco an incredulous look, and the flood of realization made him uncomfortable. "I don't exactly spend time there, Potter. I hardly have happy memories, having almost died on the tile! But I heard crying. I went in to see who it was-"
"You went to check on someone because you heard crying?" The two Gryffindors obviously didn't believe him.
"FINE! I knew it was her," he admitted through his clenched jaw.
"You expect me to believe that you know how Hermione sounds by her crying?" Harry asked.
"I will never forget the sound of her crying."
While the one looked stunned by his words, the other was only angered by them. "I don't buy it. Like you-" Weasley was interrupted by the bespectacled prat, asking him to be quiet as he pulled out a folded piece of parchment.
Draco was confused by what was happening. He told them that their friend needed them and he's looking at a piece of paper? "Are you kidding me? She needs you! Now! What could you possibly need from that rubbish?" Potter was now looking over the parchment that was once blank but now riddled with ink. "What the? How- You know what? Forget it. I'll keep helping her myself. I don't know why I tried to bother with either of you." Draco began jogging down the corridor. He reached the bottom of the first flight of stairs when he heard two others approaching.
"What did you do to her?"
"I didn't do anything to her! Why would I have gotten you if I had?"
"Then what did happen to her?"
"That's not for me to say."
⁂
"We should talk to him," a feminine voice suggested.
"Why?"
"Why?"
"Yes, Hermione. Why? He probably still hates us. Why do you want to go talk to him?"
"We kept him out of prison, Ronald. I doubt he hates us. I mean, he might, I suppose." She was now sounding even more doubtful. "He did help us at the manor."
"Kind of."
"Well, he helped me during our last year, that should count for something, don't you think?"
"I would have thought the auror training would have led to at least some improvements, but you three have gotten worse at this." The trio whipped around to see that Malfoy had left his spot in the corner and was currently standing by their booth. "Then again, none of you were ever particularly subtle."
Hermione was the first to recover. "We were going to invite you to dinner-"
"No, we weren't," Ron argued. Thud. "Ow! Stop kicking me, witch!"
"But some of us think you might still hold a grudge."
"A grudge, Hermione?" Ron laughed. "That's one way of describing his deep seeded hatred for us."
"I don't know if I'd go that far," replied an unamused, aristocratic drawl.
Hermione looked up at him with hope shining in her eyes. "So you don't? Hate us?"
"Potter, I hate out of principle. Weasley, you simply have no redeeming qualities, no offense." They all heard Ron grumble 'offense taken' under his breath, but no one paid him any attention. "You, on the other hand... you I'd have dinner with."
"Me?" He nodded. "Oh. Oh, okay. Yes."
"Hermione!"
"What are you doing now?" the blonde inquired.
"Right now? Uhm, nothing!"
Harry finally decided to chime in. "You're literally having drinks with your best friends. What do you mean, 'nothing'?"
"I'm completely free. No immediate plans." She heard one of the two mumble 'unbelievable', but again chose to ignore it as she slid to the end of the bench and went to stand. She froze momentarily when a hand appeared before her.
It was a brief moment of hesitation. Other than Harry, who was a constant source of comfort, Hermione had gone three years not allowing anyone to touch her. Only in the last year did she begin to open up more, and that was really only with the Weasleys. Peering up, she saw Malfoy looking down at her with his arm extended and a vulnerable look on his face. Surprising everyone at the table, Hermione gingerly placed her hand in his and was lifted out of her seat.
"Do you like Indian food?" he asked her. "I've been eager to try that new place around the corner from the Leaky."
"The muggle restaurant?" He nodded again. "Oh, ehm, yes. That sounds lovely." He wrapped her arm around his and led her out of the Leaky Cauldron into the busy London streets, leaving behind two worried young men. One, because he didn't trust anyone with his best friend after the incident and there she went with the enemy. The other because... well, he had a feeling his best friend was about to fall for Draco Malfoy, and he didn't think there was anything he could do about it.