It had been two hours and thirty-six minutes since Hermione had left for the holidays, and it was absolutely ridiculous that he even knew that. Usually, it didn't bother Draco to have time away from Granger. In fact, it was often a relief. She really did ask an obnoxious amount of questions, and her rambunctious curls continually hit him in the face when she was excited. She had grown on him over the past few months, but that was no reason to know how much time was passing after her departure.
The first few minutes after nine, Draco had been filled with a restless energy that sent him pacing in the halls. Was he falling ill? He had no idea what was wrong with him. He tried to occlude, but he couldn't even identify what he was trying to suppress. With increasing frustration he stomped up a set of stairs, tugging a hand through his hair. As he marched around corners, no destination in mind, the portraits snickered. Too aggravated to endure any commentary from them, he sent a silencio ahead of him. On the seventh floor, he looked up and was surprised to see himself face-to-face with the discrete entrance to the Room of Requirement. He blinked in confusion and wondered what he would find if he walked in. What was he in need of?
Draco tentatively reached for the handle, looking over his shoulder to confirm he was alone. No one. He took a breath and stepped inside.
At first, he was plunged into complete darkness. When he scrambled for the door behind him, his hand only met air. Panic began to set in, and he reached for his wand. He hated the dark. Darkness triggered his claustrophobia, and the Room of Requirement seemed to know. Draco hastily cast lumos.
For a moment he was afraid his magic wouldn't work, but a faint glow bloomed at the tip of his wand. He was able to breathe again and waited a moment for his heart to calm. Never again. Never again would he let himself feel trapped. Sometimes it was difficult to remember the war was over. In the light, it was easier to rationalize his fear. There were no monsters here, hiding behind silver masks, ready to terrorize him in his own home. This was just a room. A classroom, really, and although it was full of magic and took many forms, none of it was real. The logic soothed his pulse and Draco wiped his sweaty palms on his trousers. He willed his lumos to brighten and spread throughout the room.
When the room was fully lit, Draco staggered back, disoriented. The Room of Requirement had created almost an exact replica of Draco's own mind. Ahead was the obsidian maze, towering so high he couldn't determine its true stature. He looked in amazement to the side and saw the usual clutter of memories, thoughts, and desires he hadn't found time or care to deposit within the maze. These were things he didn't deem dangerous or incriminating. Although it was all vastly familiar, it was unnerving to physically walk through it. A soft green glow emanated from the maze entrance, and Draco stepped toward it.
Like the tales of will-o'-the-wisps, the soft flame disappeared when he reached it, only to reappear a few meters away. Draco crept after it, led deeper and deeper into the maze. He wondered what the Room wanted to show him inside his own head. They passed trivial memories of quidditch, Hogsmeade trips, and writing essays in the library. As he followed, the memories became more sacred. A small smile from his mother. A quiet walk through the Manor gardens before He came to live with them. Flying alone over the castle during sixth year. Listening to Theo play in the abandoned classroom. Draco slowed his walk, hoping to spend more time in these moments, but the green light didn't wait for him. He made himself jog to catch up; he wasn't sure if he could become lost in here and didn't want to find out.
A few more minutes passed, and the memories took a dark turn. Images of war and suffering attacked his senses, and Draco struggled to remain upright. He knew they must be nearing the heart of the maze; he had a tendency to toss anything he didn't have the capacity to process toward the center. Here, Draco did not meticulously place the memories as he did on the outside. These were not images he wished to remember. Fortunately, the flame led him onwards. With a shock, Draco realized he had never wandered past the heart of his maze, but now they were making their way deeper. The air grew humid, and he got the distinct feeling of being inside a cave. A sound of rushing water erupted as they took another turn, and he looked down to see the floor was transparent with a violent river coursing underneath. He quickened his pace, glancing at the walls to either side of him. Instead of branching off into other tunnels, this passageway straightened farther than he could see. With nowhere to turn, he plowed forward.
Finally, they reached the end, and Draco stood directly in front of a small ebony door. He looked down to ask the wisp what he was to do but found the small light had vanished. He shrugged and pulled open the door to a small cavern. Stalactites hung from the ceiling, low enough to pierce him if he raised up a hand. Torches lined the rock walls, and in the flickering light, he could see a small pedestal situated not ten meters away. He couldn't quite make out what was sitting on it, but it was something rather small. He floated forward as if he were magnetically attracted to it. He reached for the object and brought it close to his eyes. The room was exceptionally dim, but he could tell it was a book.
"What the hell."
His words echoed through the cavern, bouncing off the wall and layering over each other. Draco ignored the sound and peered closer at the book in his hand. Jane Eyre. It wasn't by an author he recognized, but the cover was worn as if the novel was well-loved by its owner. He flipped it open and hastily read the words penciled inside.
This book belongs to Hermione Jean Granger, 1995
Draco couldn't seem to look away and ran a thumb over the words. He didn't know what to make of it, any more than he understood this entire experiment. Maybe the Room of Requirement had finally gone off its rocker. He slipped the book into his back pocket and prepared for a long walk back to the exit.
Before he could take a step, the room around him faded like a mirage until he was standing in a rather dull and dusty classroom, no larger than any of the others he had lessons in. He shook his head–apparently, the Room had given him what he required and was no longer needed. Time to go.
Draco sauntered down to the dungeons, but when he closed the door to his and Theo's shared dorm he ripped the book out of his pocket. Alone, he sank onto the lush green rug and began reading Charlotte Bronte's work. Initially, he scoffed at the rather slow start. This Jane had to be the most boring protagonist known to man, but a younger Hermione highlighted line after line, making small annotations in the page corners. As the story progressed, he became increasingly fascinated with Hermione's notes. She brought the story to life, and Draco felt himself become enraged with Jane's family, cursing at them for harassing her. How unfair it was for a child to be subjected to such disdain! He flew through the chapters of what he now realized was yet another muggle book and reached a page almost unreadable from Hermione's scrawl. For being such a swot, she really had horrendous handwriting. Draco chuckled to himself and tried to find the source of all her annotating.
There, a few paragraphs down, he found a line that had been underlined violently, with arrows pointing to the margins where she had written her own thoughts. This specific annotation was in a different color, as if it had been written at a different time. Rather than the usual black, it was a dark forest green. He hastily read the quote she was so captivated by.
Life appears to me too short to be spent in nursing animosity or registering wrongs.
He scoffed. Of course, a forgiving little Gryffindor would find this quote to be the most essential. She was absolutely ridiculous. Now at least he had proof she had always been this intolerably righteous. His eyes followed the path of the small arrow to her script in the margin and he froze in place. In her dreadful penmanship, she had written a note to herself.
Apply to Malfoy. Life is much too short to be angry with a boy who had no choice. I can choose to forgive. 3 June 1998
Draco reread the annotation over and over and couldn't make sense of it. He even cast revelio to see if the novel had been magically tampered with, but it remained infuriatingly ordinary. It was then that Theodore found him, stupefied by Granger's nonsensical declarations.
"Draco? Are you alright?" Theo asked as he crouched down beside Draco, gently laying his cane on the ground.
Draco blinked a few times but didn't even know how to begin explaining and settled for holding the book out to Theo. The other boy furrowed his brows uncertainly but wrapped his fingers around the pages. For a minute, Theo was silent, reading the open page before flipping to the front and seeing the name penciled inside. With a sigh, Theo wrapped an arm around Draco's shoulders.
"I told you she meant it."
Draco only nodded. This...This was astounding. This entry was dated only a month after the Battle of Hogwarts, and little more than that after her experience with his aunt. Yet still, somehow she had found it in herself to forgive him, even before he had formally apologized. He couldn't wrap his head around it...it was too big. Too much. His chest was beginning to feel tight, and a strangled sob broke out of him. Without a word, Theo wrapped his other arm around his friend. The room was silent but for the sound of Draco's weeping.
Draco's breathing eventually slowed, and he looked up at Theo and gave him a rueful smile. "Sorry, mate. Not sure where that came from."
Theo only chuckled. "Definitely not what I was expecting, but I'm not upset. How did you even find that book?"
"Room of Requirement."
"Ah." Theo slowly got to his feet and dusted off his trousers. He held a hand out to Draco and pulled him up. "I actually came to find you for a reason."
Draco raised his eyebrows. "Planning to rummage through the kitchens?"
Theo laughed. "No, not today. Actually, Blaise invited us to stay at his place over the holidays. I thought it might be more fun than staying here."
"Sure," Drago shrugged. Zabini Estate was far more interesting than dusty old Hogwarts. At least the Zabini's had a large stash of firewhiskey.
"Great. He wants to apparate out in half an hour if you're up for it?"
Draco nodded and summoned a small trunk to pack. He made sure to stash his broom; Blaise wasn't too terrible at quidditch and Theo loved to watch. He threw in some warm clothes and carefully placed the copy of Jane Eyre inside. He would have to give it back to Hermione eventually, but for now, he wanted to finish the story. Maybe he'd even tell Theo about it. After all, he had loved hearing about A Tale of Two Cities. When they finished, Draco and Theo made their way to the Great Hall to meet Blaise, and the three boys apparated to a lovely villa in Northern Italy. The Christmas holidays had officially begun.