"Malfoy, a word?"
Hermione found him in the library; it was nearing ten o'clock. He was sat in a secluded corner with his feet crossed at the ankles atop a study table. A book rested in his hands. He held up a finger, and she tapped her foot impatiently. When he didn't stir in over a minute, she huffed and slid into the chair beside him. He finally looked at her, eyes widening a fraction. She pulled out a heavy journal, three books, two vials, and a quill and arranged them on the table in front of them.
"Granger...what in Merlin's name are you doing?" Malfoy stuttered, closing his book. She glanced over at the title and snorted. The twat was reading "A Tale of Two Cities".
"It's wonderful, isn't it?" She asked.
"What?"
"The novel. The Dickens one, there in your hand. You know," she quipped, "the very author you taunted me for reading a few weeks ago. It seems you fancy him if you've already read it twice."
"What!?"
"Oh, do stop blathering, Malfoy. I heard you explain the plot to Theodore in the hallway a while back, and now that it's in your hands again I assumed this would be a second read." She paused to think, pointer finger tapping along her upper lip. "Although I do suppose you could be on a third read if indeed you're a quick reader."
Malfoy's mouth dropped open for a second before he righted himself, smoothing out his crisp black shirt. He lightly set the novel down and turned to face her. Hermione wasn't looking at him anymore, she was distracted by the journal before her. He cleared his throat.
"Sixth."
"Hmm?"
"Sixth. I'm on my sixth read. I'm struggling not to be insulted. It has been two weeks, after all. To think I'd only be on my second read," he rolled his eyes. She didn't look up from her scribbling. Malfoy grunted in frustration.
"Honestly, Granger! What are you doing?"
"How do you mean?"
"Here! You're here...in my corner. At my....table. In my space!"
"Yes, so?" Of course he felt entitled enough to claim a public table in the Hogwarts library. She was already regretting her decision to come. He slumped a little in his chair, apparently defeated. She couldn't help the smug look that crept onto her face. He leaned his head back against the head of his chair and closed his eyes.
"Fine, sit with me. Ruin my peaceful moment, interrupt Sydney Carton's declaration of love. I don't mind at all."
At this Hermione lost her inner battle and let out a raucous laugh. She couldn't stop herself, and within moments was wheezing in glee. She glanced over and saw Malfoy cross his arms, fighting a grin of his own. Warmth swelled in Hermione's core as his eyes finally locked on hers. Her mouth formed a small 'o' in surprise. His eyes were the brightest blue, a shade she had never seen in them before. She sat back as she puzzled through it.
"You occlude." If he was impressed she figured it out, he certainly did not show it. He held her gaze, face remaining impassive. She considered the boy in front of her. Of all the people who would need such a skill, the son of a Death Eater would. For the first time since she had known him, she imagined what his life must be like.
Raised by a cold sadistic father, pledged to the darkest wizard in history. The expectation not only to be a perfect pureblooded heir but also someday take the Dark Mark and join Voldemort's ranks. It was rumored that during the war, Voldemort even stayed in Malfoy manor. She couldn't imagine what that would be like, how the fear would take hold after being in his presence so much. Hermione swallowed with difficulty but continued to hold his gaze. And his mother...Hermione did not know very much about Narcissa Malfoy, but it was clear her son had a soft spot for her. Over the years, countless fights had ensued if someone had made any sort of comment about her. What would cause such a reaction? Surely his mother loved him and there was a closeness by definition of the relationship, but this was more. What if...what if Malfoy felt the need to protect her? What if there had been a time when he wasn't able to...multiple times, perhaps...and he tried to make up for it at school. Hermione was filled with horror as she remembered a time last year when Malfoy had simply stared at her as she was tortured by his aunt. He had stared at her with grey eyes.
He had been occluding, she was sure of it. At the time, she had assumed he was filled with glee at the prospect of her pain. He had always bullied her relentlessly, but what if he fell back on occluding because he wasn't truly indifferent to her pain? Perhaps it was a habit. Perhaps he had learned the skill from watching another person suffer. She immediately shut down her train of thought. She would need to unbox this later but now was not the time.
"Would you like to know the truth, Malfoy?"
He narrowed his eyes at her. "I suppose you plan to tell me regardless of my wishes?"
"Yes," she sighed. "The truth is, I've been working on a research project with Madam Pomfrey in the infirmary. It's been going on for months." She gestured at the papers around her. "It began as a way to distract me."
"But now you think you've found something?" She nodded. He leaned forward to read one of the titles, now interested. " 'The Power of Bonding the Magical and Muggle'." A mocking smile spread across his face and he ruffled through the notes on the table, murmuring to himself. She gave him time to process. As he read, his expression changed. The grin faded and his brows furrowed. Every few minutes he would purse his lips in thought, nod quietly to himself and flip to the next page. He didn't speak.
Hermione reached over Malfoy's arms and snatched "A Tale of Two Cities". For the next hour, neither of them broke the silence except for turning pages or scratching quills. It was a comfortable time, far more so than studying with Harry or Ron had ever been. Her two friends were incapable of remaining still or focused. Malfoy's company, however, was perfectly suitable for a library.
"I see." Hermione glanced up at the sudden break in the quiet.
"You do?" She asked softly. He met her gaze and nodded.
"It's brilliant, Granger. Truly. I might have some knowledge to share on the specifics of certain newly-developed curses that could have been used, and combined with your Muggle knowledge of lab tests and diagnoses we might just be able to–"
"We?!" She interrupted breathlessly. He rolled his eyes.
"Well, I'm helping you, obviously. How on earth do you expect to get proper results without me?" Hermione reached over and lightly punched his shoulder. His eyes widened and he inhaled sharply. It was such a friendly touch, Hermione was surprised herself that she had done it. She huffed out a laugh. The last time she touched Draco Malfoy was when she punched him in the nose. The redness blooming on his cheeks made her think he was remembering that as well.
"Excellent. Could you meet me in Madam Pomfrey's back laboratory tomorrow after Potions? I'll acquaint you with Muggle equipment and show you the rest of my research. I only brought the most relevant information tonight."
He nodded and reached over to help her reorganize the scattered parchment. Hermione gathered the books into her bag and stood up to head to her room. She ran her fingers through her curls, trying to untangle the locks. It had been a very long day, and she needed a shower. When she raised her head, she found Malfoy staring at her.
"Malfoy?"
He blinked, then straightened. "See you tomorrow, Granger." He strode away from her quickly, making a beeline for the library doors. After a dozen paces, he halted and whipped around, a pained expression on his face. "Granger."
She looked up at him expectantly. He took a shuttering breath.
"Do you think this will work?"
Hermione hesitated. "I don't know. I hope it does."
Malfoy nodded. Hermione softened as Malfoy ran his fingers through his silver hair. His clear blue eyes were so open, and his expression sent a pang through Hermione's heart.
"If we start now, I think he has a chance, Malfoy." He nodded once, turned on his heel, and strode out the library door. The second he was gone, a tear slid down Hermione's cheek.
***
Hours later, Hermione found Theodore Nott in the lonely classroom on the sixth floor. He was sitting in a dark corner with his head against the stone wall, eyes closed. A violin lay carefully beside him, bow across his bent knees. She delicately slid beside him.
It was a foggy night, and the dark clouds prevented any moonlight from leaking into the cold room. The silence was suffocating, in stark contrast to the same room all those nights ago when Theo's music charged through the air. Hermione couldn't speak.
"Draco told me you know. I don't suppose it took you long to figure out."
She sighed. "No, it didn't take me long. I had my suspicions, but when you left that blood on my hand after our duel, I ran to my lab and tested it."
He chuckled. "Of course you did." He didn't seem upset, but Hermione wasn't surprised. She expected it took much more than that to perturb Theodore Nott.
"Will you tell me your story, Theo?" She turned to look at the frail boy. He appeared paler than usual tonight in the dim lighting. After all of her research, it had been easy to spot that the boy had a blood curse. His pale skin, shaky hands, the cold sweat. How protective Malfoy was over his friend, the blood splattered from a cough. He would disappear from classes for days at a time, then return as if nothing happened. All other ailments should have been curable by magic, but a blood curse was a nasty thing.
Blood curses were always caused by Dark Magic, inflicted on the victim in pure malice. Wizards feared a blood curse in much the same way that Muggles feared cancer as an incurable death sentence. In Hermione's research, all accounts noted that if a young wizard suffered from a blood curse the average live expectancy was twenty. The boy beside her was eighteen.
"It's not a particularly nice story, Hermione." Theo's eyes remained shut. He had thick, dark lashes that fluttered against his high cheekbones every few seconds. A curl had dropped over his forehead, and Hermione fought the urge to brush it back. Instead, she wrapped her arms tightly around her knees.
"That's alright. Mine isn't either." At that, Theo turned to face her. He seemed to make up his mind and took a deep breath.
"My story begins with my family, though I wish it didn't. So much darkness has occurred due to the Sacred Twenty-Eight, but I suppose we cannot escape our lineage."
"No, I suppose we cannot." Theo gave her a small smile of understanding. He continued.
"In the First Wizarding War, my father served Voldemort as a Death Eater; he was one of the chosen to be in the Dark Lord's inner circle, along with Lucius. My father was a fanatic. When Voldemort disappeared, he raged throughout the home. Most of the valuable dishes were thrown across the room. The drawing room curtains were sliced clean through. He would hex the walls until deep gouges appeared and no amount of magic from the house elves could make them go away. It took a toll on my mother, and she began to have nervous breakdowns when he left the manor. I would cling to her as she cried, wrapping my small arms around her. I loved her dearly."
Hermione reached for his hand and curled her fingers around his. He squeezed back.
"When I was five, my father returned home during one of her breakdowns. He took one look at me clutching her and went mental. He started screaming that I was a weakling and a coward, that I had turned out no better than a puny girl. Then he shot an avada at me, hoping to rid himself of his failure." Theo paused here, unable to continue. He sank his chin onto his knees and gripped Hermione's fingers tightly. She ran a thumb over his knuckles reassuringly.
A shadow peeled itself from the wall and sauntered over. Hermione wasn't surprised. She wasn't sure the boys were ever separated for long. When he reached them, Malfoy dropped to a crouch and placed a hand on Theo's shoulder. His icy grey eyes met Hermione's. His tone was cold when he said, "His mother jumped in front of him to protect him, and she was hit by the killing curse. Theo's father was infuriated and decided Theo deserved something worse than a quick death. He thought of the nastiest Dark spell he could imagine, and sent it nonverbally into the chest of his five-year-old son, cursing his very blood."
Theo's hand that was still gripping his bow shook and Malfoy gently peeled it out of his fingers. Hermione met Malfoy's eyes again, and understanding flashed between them. As one, they wrapped their arms around their friend and let his tears fall freely for the remainder of the night.