Chapter 4
The first days went by smoothly. While everyone was complaining about classes, I was glowing. Routines were easy for me, I never struggled to get myself together in the mornings, I was never late to class. It was nostalgic to walk in those corridors again, to watch the light creep in through those big fancy windows. The scent of magic laying thick and leading us forward. I loved the echoes of empty halls. Don’t get me wrong, I liked when they were filled with thousands of footsteps and giggling. Yet something about that silence of emptiness sent shivers down my spine making me feel alive. It dropped a veil of calmness on me, sometimes making me feel like a ghost myself.
I found my way to the library almost instantly. The sun was gifting this autumn with warm light, making the spaces between bookshelves feel more like home. I could stroll between wooden boxes, filled with binded parchment all day. Something about that placed seemed sacred. You could get all your answers there, no matter if it’s from a book or a long thinking session.
In the common room, I had the whole room to myself. None of the gryffindor girls from my year came back. I could’ve been housed with the sixth-year girls, such as Ginny. They were in the sixth-year since everyone agreed that lessons during Snape’s headmaster’s time were inoperative. But I was happy that they didn’t put me with them. I liked Ginny and her classmates, but I liked my personal space more. They squeezed my room down since it only had to accommodate one. Still I got lucky, and the window became a priceless painting, delivering landscapes in the day, and starry nights in the dark. I could sit, lay on the ground without anyone questioning my choices. I could read into the night and talk to myself out loud. I could let my emotions out without anyone knowing. It’s just easier.
Yet the first lessons went by… differently. Each professor started their teaching with a speech about the war, consequences and loss of many. There weren’t a lot of seventh-years, less than from any other year. And I found I lost all connections with my former classmates. Yes, communicating with some of them, like Neville, was easy, but it didn’t feel like he was a good friend of mine. As McGonagall said, slytherins joined some of our courses. There were even fewer of them.
Still, I couldn’t get that conversation with Neville out of my head… It wasn’t anything important. We had gotten back from the first classes. I was getting my stuff at the common room when he came up.
“Hello, Hermione, how have you been? Long time since I’ve seen ya,” he said.
“Oh hi, Neville. I’m… fine. And you? How was your summer?”
He shrugged his shoulders.
“I’m okay, after helping Hogwarts I spent time with my grandmother. Nothing much, you know?” His smile betrayed the awkwardness of the moment.
It was the distance that made me overthink everything. We had gotten close over the past years, becoming good friends and helping each other. But the prolonged summer stretch the tightrope of our friendship out further. But it wasn’t him who moved along with it, it was me. I felt emotionally disconnected with this person I knew, even talking with him felt somewhat… unknown. Like he was a stranger that I met not long ago.
Did life pull me away to another universe? Where are all those emotions and feelings, where are the connections and familiarities? I’m lost. How do I get that feeling of sincere closeness back? With who?
But I couldn’t spend any time on thinking now, I had to get ready for tomorrow’s classes.
McGonagall was glowing. Coming back to her natural habitat of teaching drove her forward with the gas pedal down all the way. She talked with her hands, energy flowing and filling up the class. The sun lazily left golden rays on the floor. Half of the students sleeping, other half – pretending to be listening. I was copying every word in my notes. My quill running on the parchment as if in a race. And I was in a race. A race against the number of McGonagall’s spoken words in a minute. Minute by minute.
Time flew soundlessly. I blinked as everyone were packing their stuff and leaving. Already? Gosh, I need to break the habit of dosing off. I stood up, fiddling with the inked parchment, trying to find the best way to carry it without smudging.
“Miss Granger,” I heard from the front of the class. I looked up as McGonagall’s eyes met mine, “could we have a word?”
“Yes, professor,” I answered, coming up to her table.
“How are your first days back?” She asked with a dazzling smile.
“Great, I feel like I’m… home.”
She nodded.
“Ah yes, I’m glad you’re comfortable.” She put her hands together. “I wanted to discuss a matter. Have you been in touch with Malfoy?”
I stood there, startled.
“Professor?” I asked.
“Well, about the tutoring,” she waved her hand.
Oh, right. I was so caught up in my regime I forgot the ‘little favor’ I agreed on.
“Oh, um, no,” I searched for my words. “I thought it be best if I waited some time. To get used to being back here, you know?”
“That’s kind of you, but I’m afraid we don’t have the time to sit around. It be best if you found out how much work this will take, and if you make great progress – you’ll have the end of the year to yourself.”
“Yes, professor.” I started to think how bad could it actually be.
“In fact, I’m having mister Malfoy later in class, do you want me to pass any information to him?” She seemed eager to push the matter now.
“Um,” I flipped my schedule in my head, searching for a gap that I could fill with this tutoring, “tell him to meet me tomorrow in the library. At seven in the evening.”
McGonagall nodded her head in agreement.
“Thank you, miss Granger, you’re saving our time.”
“No problem, professor.”
I smiled to her and left the classroom. My head was starting to buzz like a beehive, but I had to contain those thoughts. At least until the evening.
Pushing through the rest of the day with my head in a blur was hard, yet still I found some place for new learning theory. I sat through some more classes and when dinnertime rolled around I felt drained. I was so exhausted my mind just shut down. Walking in the great hall all I could hear was white noise, even though I saw the lips of many students moving. I sat somewhere in the middle of the gryffindor table. Many others were piled up in groups, chatting away about the lectures they had and complaining about the amount of homework given.
“It’s only the first weeks. If this is the homework for the start, what will await us next?!” One kid whispered way too loudly.
“I’m telling you, ever since he saw me two days ago he can’t help but stare at me” girls on the other side giggled in excitement.
“My guess is that professor Binns died of boredom. Have you been to any of his classes?”
“My parents swore to write me every day, but I guess our owl got lost again.”
I had a few bites before standing back up and walking out. I didn’t have an appetite. Yet something was beginning to blossom in the pit of my stomach. The feeling drenched me as soon as the door of my room was closed. I just felt empty for a few moments. I walked over to the bed, feeling like zombie.
Then, like a secret attack, dozens of thoughts interrupted my brain. Feeling like I couldn’t take it anymore I sat down and covered my head with my hands. It seemed there wasn’t enough space for the amount of different voices talking in my head. I swayed a bit, trying to calm them down like a baby. Soon the lingering silence felt calm, I could think on my own, whatever I wanted. There were so many topics to analyze.
It was almost the end of the second week. I felt more alive than ever, always on my feet and running around. Yet now a little voice in the back of my mind whispered in a weak voice. The feeling of guilt filled me up right to my throat. Why is it there? Isn’t it better that I’m happy now? Still the guilt of forgetting the people who were once the most important here settled. How could I forget my ex-bestfriends? The ones who showed me what it feels like to breathe a little in between classes. The ones who let me spill my knowledge out even if they didn’t need it. The ones who trusted me and made me feel like I did have a purpose. Well, for a while that was. Later on I just became the one who knew all the answers. ‘Oh, you have a question? Go to our own human google Hermione over here, she can tell you what to do.’ A dork, always too invested in literature and holding on for dear life on every word that slipped out of a teacher’s mouth. Shouldn’t it be the other way around? Didn’t I have to be a nerd at the start, and a friend at the end? There is a saying that the tables ‘turn’. Well, mine did a backflip or something.
Still I needed to understand where was all of that guilt coming from. I’ve been angry at them for a while. Now they can’t reach me and I can finally live, move on, start a new chapter. Huh, maybe it’s Ron, sitting up there in the clouds, playing with the people around me like chess. No matter what it was I couldn’t seem to hold that happiness for more than a few hours. I still caught myself looking over my shoulder frequently. Students around might think that I’m trying to catch someone’s attention. Truth is, I’m just trying to see if my friends are following behind. But every time I stop in my tracks and realize that they’ve been left far behind. Ron froze in time, becoming a memory I’m not sure where to place. And Harry is drifting away, just like sand – moving slowly, silently and unnoticeably. That was when I realized why I wasn’t able to let go and let myself be happy without them. This is not my world, it was ours. The world of witches and wizards might have been alive for centuries, but we built our own little world inside it. Brick by brick. Now I wasn’t able to leave it and step out. I felt trapped in the bubble we made for ourselves. Funny thing, we made it for all of us, but only I’m left there. I didn’t feel ready to walk out and admit that there was no longer ‘us’. That it was only ‘me’.
The “H. R. H.” world. Harry, Ron and Hermione. From most important, to, well, less. Still, these names stood out in our time. Friends, best friends, trio, golden trio… what are we now? Mourners? Strangers? Just… people? Gosh, I need to stop thinking about this. Nothing will change no matter what solutions I come up with. I don’t have enough of a magnet to pull me away from this metal I’m stuck on.
I have to learn how to live alone. Just me, just Hermione. Not a best friend, not a part of a trio. Yet creating a solo story seems too much work now. I know what I’m capable of, I know I’m smart, but that won’t help me in creating a new life here. I need a new persona, someone I could be remembered as just myself, since now I’m nothing without my friends in the eyes of others.
But maybe they’re right, maybe I am nothing without them.
Another thing to think about is this ‘Malfoy situation”. I’m always keen on helping others, but what about him? A simple talk will give me enough information to make a detailed schedule on what he needs to relearn. Then I need to plan meetings every… month? Two weeks? I’ll decide that later. Also I’ll need to make a list of books that he should read for theory. Wait, will he need practice? If that’s the case, then I’ll need a classroom full of ingredients and other stuff. The Room of Requirement should help. And if he starts spitting mouthfuls of insults? I’ll proudly lift my head and say goodbye. Wait, will I?
It’ll be interesting, communicating with him again. He’ll just probably won’t talk unless it’s something about the tutoring. But will that make me sad? I’m not a saint, I do have an interest in gossip. Not that I would call this gossip, but getting to know what happened to the Malfoys after the war? Well, spill the tea! Yet everyone probably knows about that now, giving my summer life was equal to living under a rock. Maybe he found new friends and started to become a better person. Maybe he didn’t.
The morning was unforgiving. My eyes were wide open way earlier than they should’ve been. And no matter what I did, they couldn’t be shut close again. So I got up, got dressed and with my disheveled hair left the castle for a morning stroll on the grounds. The nature was drowning in fog, like a blanket was covering her while she slept. The birds sang a quiet melody, only understandable to them. I sat on a rock near the Black Lake to listen some more. The song had beautiful rhythms, jumping unexpectedly. We’re not so different from birds, I thought. Only they understand the music they create. While to us they seem beautiful creatures, singing different notes, it could all be way darker. For instance this morning melody could be a cry for help, a scream of someone tearing apart at the seams, and we would still think ‘wow, this sounds wonderful’. People do this too. Not everyone can see through you. If I’d put on a smile and sit in the common room amongst other gryffindors they wouldn’t even know I’m questioning my life every day. They don’t know me well enough to see what I actually am.
Fresh air in my lungs helped me to wake up. I came back to gather my books. This time on the way out I brushed my hair back as much as I could, and tied it up into a bouncing ponytail.
The fog was only the start to a gloomy day. It started to rain at lunch. All the students who were enjoying time outside ran back in and started to shake like dogs, trying to get their friends beside them wet. They were laughing so hard that the echo most probably traveled all the way up the moving staircase.
It stayed like that for the rest of the day.
After my classes I spent some time in my room doing homework, trying to get as much done as possible. Yet the clock didn’t give me the opportunity to finish McGonagall’s task, as it announced it was time to go. I got to the library five minutes earlier. But how could I be so stupid? I didn’t tell Malfoy where to meet me. Cursing myself in my head I started to walk along the shelves, hoping to spot silver hair and grey eyes. And after some time I did. Draco was sitting far from other students, closer to the widows. I rushed over there and took a seat in front of him.
“Uh, hi,” I stuttered.
He only turned to look at me.
“How’s the start of school?” I had no clue what to ask.
“Really?” He asked as if I was joking. “Do I have to ask ‘how was your morning walk’ now?”
It came to me as a surprise. I haven’t heard his voice in a while. It seemed cold, yet so… delicate. His tone was one you could get used to. It flowed off his tongue like a running river. I believed that if I could touch his voice it would feel silky smooth. If he would talk for a longer time it might even work as a lullaby.
I got so lost in his magic that only the truth blew away the mist.
“Wait what? You were following me?!” I almost screamed.
He rolled his eyes.
“Trust me - following you is on the bottom of my agenda list.”
“Then how did you find out?” I couldn’t just leave this topic.
“I saw you leave the castle,” he said sighing, “although you looked like a psychopath. Sitting there alone and staring into a dot in front of you.”
“I was… thinking.” My words got lost for a moment.
“I don’t care,” he cut off coldly.
That’s true, why would he care? Why am I looking for excuses?
“Let’s get to work then,” I said, pulling out my quill and parchment.
Malfoy sat still, looking away. His gaze was pointed through the window, deep into the night. I saw his reflection in the glass. It seemed he could travel down those paths outside with just his bare glance. That was enough for him to leave reality, to disconnect. He soared through the sky on the other side of the wall like a bird, twisting itself to avoid raindrops. None of his feathers got wet, but his journey wasn’t finished. I saw it in his eyes – he was tired from all of it. Only now it dawned on me what a nightmare his life must’ve been. With his parents switching sides practically last minute the pain was neutralized, but they still had a dark history creeping behind them like a shadow. The problem was that everyone saw that shadow no matter if it was daylight or nighttime. A burden of hatred from half of the world fell on their shoulders, his included. He just wanted to be done. And for that I found us similar. Maybe I didn’t need to experience such hard times, but after the war nothing was the same.
I snapped out of it.
“So,” I cleared my throat, “I decided to gather information from you and your notes about what you studied, what you remember and what needs to be looked over.”
He didn’t even move.
“I’d appreciate if next time you would bring me everything you have written down.”
“Why?” He spoke.
I looked at him.
“Like I told a minute ago, so that I could gather information and…”
“I heard that, but why do you need that? I thought that the Granger’s calendar was full already, you wouldn’t have time for that.”
This question caught be out of the blue.
“I think it’s obvious, no? So I could have the details of how much you know and what topics need to be touched.” I shrugged, “besides, I want to take this seriously. Don’t you want to be finished with it? The more you learn the faster and easier you’ll reach the end.”
He stared at me for a minute.
“And why would you spend your time on something so tedious like this? On someone like me?” He raised his eyebrows.
I let out a breath.
“Because I like to do my job correctly. And I’m not so packed on activities like you think.”
‘I also need something to get my mind off of things’ I thought to myself.
“Ah, that’s right, without your best friends you don’t have much to do during the days.” He concluded.
I froze.
Why did he had to bring it up? I had enough thoughts about it already, I didn’t need him jumping on this wound too.
“Anyway,” I tried to act like nothing happened, “I’ll be waiting for your notes next time.”
My voice shook a bit before becoming neutral and callous.
He still caught the change.
“Did I hit a sensitive spot?” He asked, almost bored.
“No,” ‘yes’, “we met up to talk about other things.”
He looked at me, almost scanning and waiting for an alarm to go off.
“Go ahead then,” he waved his hand.
“Well, do you remember what the last thing you learned in potions was?” My quill was leaving ink traces behind.
“No,” what a lovely small talker he is.
“Transfiguration? Charms?” I was trying to find something to start off of.
“No.”
I blinked.
“Herbology?” I tried again.
“No.”
I let out a sigh.
“Well, can you at least tell me what you remember from the lessons in general?”
“Nothing.”
I raised my eyes.
“Seriously?”
“What did you expect?” He shot back, his eyes glistening cold. “That I’d be a perfect student, remembering every single term that rolls off a professor’s tongue?”
I got lost.
“Um, no,” I blinked, “I just want to help you.”
He pinched his nose bridge.
“The only information I can give you is that I don’t remember anything.” He concluded.
I just stared down and nodded. After a few minutes of silence he took a sharp breath.
“This is pathetic,” he murmured under his breath and, loudly sliding his chair back, stood up before storming off.
I was left speechless. Just sitting there and wondering what have I gotten myself into.
Next day came the weekend and I was ready to relax a little. But not too much of course. While many wondered off to Hogsmeade I stayed in the castle. After breakfast and a quick trip to the library I gathered my stuff and went outside. I wanted to enjoy the last warm autumn breeze before the sun took on colder temperatures. Now the weather was perfect for sitting outside, doing whatever. While picking up some books a letter fell out. That’s right – during breakfast an owl landed almost perfectly into my porridge bowl. Spitting out a letter it flopped its wings knocking down a few pieces of toast and rose up. I stuffed the message into my bag but forgot about it.
It was from Arthur.
“Dear Hermione,
I wanted to fulfill your request and update you on everything going on here.
It feels like Molly is cemented in the Burrow’s ground while the rest of us are on rotation to helping her. Time stopped and we’re still moving, but the effort isn’t making a difference. Charlie, thankfully, stayed. He leaves the house sometimes, helps George out in the shop. Talking ‘bout George, well, he isn’t himself. It’s all understandable but it seems he felt a little better with you here. You always had a talent of adapting to anyone you talk to. No one needed to pretend something. You were a safe place, a safe person to talk to. Bill visits sometimes, his job has become harder, you can see it from his under eyes. Fleur is a wonder, she keeps Molly company often. I feel bad that we’re taking away the joy of creating ones own family. Still she assures us that everything is fine. Harry rarely shows up. The first few days he was here all the time but after that he just comes to say ‘hello’ and ‘goodbye’. I can’t imagine what it feels like to lose a best friend right after the war. Molly is holding up for now, although I’m afraid that soon she can break down. I’m trying to stay by her side but sometimes I run out of words to say. I wish to speak about him, about them, but as soon as she hears those two names she drowns in tears of pain and loss.
I’m very thankful for all your help during the summer, we really couldn’t have done it without you. We’re glad we can call you family. If you need anything feel free to write me.
Also, how is the school year going? How is Ginny?
Sincerely,
Arthur Weasley”
The parchment laid in my palms, a single drop falling down close enough to blur some letters together. I wiped my face with the back of my hand. It’s easy to tell that he was writing this in a hurry, maybe even over the span of a few days. The sentences are strict, straight to the point. I did ask him for updates before leaving. I’m not sure what I expected. The words hit hard like stones. It was good knowing that the rest of Weasley siblings are helping their parents. Yet those are not the words that stuck. ‘I can’t imagine what it feels like to lose a best friend right after the war’. Yes, you can’t, because your pain is much greater than the one Harry is experiencing. And if Harry thinks he’s the only one hurting, he should be put back in his place. Losing a son is hard for parents, let alone losing two. I honestly thought that their hearts cracked a bit from all the pain. Every day became a task. Moving, talking, breathing. Soon it seemed more like a routine rather than living. Yet Arthur feels sorry for Harry. He feels sorry that Harry lost a best friend. ‘But I lost one too,’ a little voice in my head whispered. As much as I didn’t want to involve myself in this, it was still true. The forced nature lingered in my mind, I saw those words with my eyes closed. It’s like I wasn’t even considered Ron’s best friend. Like I didn’t spend half my life with him, laughing and arguing in these big halls. Like we didn’t fight together just hoping that the other stays safe. It wasn’t history, maybe not even a mere memory. It was a fact, a statement that maybe some heard but ones didn’t believe in it, and others just forgot.
Here I am. Hermione Granger. Not a best friend. Probably not even a friend anymore.
And I am extremely lonely.
Along with a new week came wind, blowing colder each day. It brought nightmares to my garden in which sorrows grew like wildflowers. The letter made me feel uneasy, unlocking every doubt, bad thought and regret that I put away. Ron visited me in my dreams, only it wasn’t really him. The scenarios often occurred in different places, but he was always the same – black and white, without any color whatsoever. The only thing that proved his movement were the ever changing shadows and lights. He never talked, but I understood everything from his face. Ron did always communicate through his facial expressions, overtime I learned them. I learned them all. And in these dreams he acted like a ghost. He seemed unhappy, bored, even depressed sometimes. I tried helping him.
“What’s wrong?” I asked him one time, touching his shoulder lightly.
He moved away with a face full of disgust.
“Are you hurting?” I whispered through my tears, my heart breaking into a million pieces.
He looked up at me, eyes full of life, but just a second after they were hidden behind a shadow.
He never answered me. Not once did he say a word.
But that wasn’t the only bad part – he was not the only one appearing in my dreams. Yet Fred was always drowning in colors, so alive and bright. His hair and freckles stood out. He usually came wearing a smile. They would exchange glances with Ron as he moved away, taking the black and white world with him. Watching him walk away Fred would always start talking.
“I’m sorry you had to endure that,” he would say.
“You don’t have to apologize,” I would reply, never knowing if he would give me an answer.
“Looking back I feel like I could’ve done something to make him a better person,” he was always calm, “instead I wasted my time doing stupid things and laughing life off.”
“I’m glad you did that, it made you closer to George,” I turned to look at him.
“George…” He looked down, his face washed over with a feeling I couldn’t recognize.
He took a couple breaths in.
“I wanted to thank you,” he looked up at me, “you helped George.”
“I doubt it made a difference.” I looked away to the horizon, blurring away like a warning that the dream would soon come to an end.
“Stop thinking bad about yourself, it made a big difference, not only for George but for Molly, Ginny, gosh, even Charlie started talking to someone other than a dragon.”
“Maybe it did then, but as soon as the disaster fell down, I broke down with it.”
“Hey,” he nudged me with his shoulder to look at him, “you’re an honest person, stop lying to yourself that everything is fine. You had the right to mourn and break down just as the others. This wasn’t just a person, Hermione, it was six years of your life. You need to bury that, you need to get it out of your system. You lost six years, start rebuilding them.”
“I have no one to rebuild it with,” tears were streaming down my face.
“And you don’t need someone, it’s your life, your years. Stop giving everyone the chance to write your story, you hold the quill.”
His words made me remember my own thoughts. I was the one commenting Harry’s actions and him being unable to let go. I was stuck in the same boat. I could easily reach the land and leave it all behind, but I was the one stopping myself from it. Thoughts of Ron were screwed in my head so secure, and I didn’t have the tools to unscrew them. I didn’t even look for the tools, I only told myself that it’s pointless.
The horizon was almost at our feet, everything disappearing into silver mist.
“Thank you,” I whispered and turned to him.
Fred was also watching the surroundings disappear.
“Will I ever talk to you again?” I asked.
He thought for a moment.
“I’m not sure. Because of us you have been having sleepless nights, I feel bad for you.”
“I would trade all my sleep just to see you again. Both of you.”
He looked at me.
“I’ll stop by then,” he smiled softly.
As the ground disappeared beneath my feet a question popped up.
“Am I imagining? Is there something wrong with me?” It sounded so cliché.
“There’s nothing wrong with you. Maybe your conscience is begging you to hear the truth that you know by heart. Your own mind wants you to listen to it.”
“I hate the thought of both of you being not real,” I said quietly.
“We’re always real in your head and heart. Just the way you remember us. If your words come out of our mouths it doesn’t mean we’re imagination.”
I closed my eyes, ready for the flight to reality where I will wake up in my bed. Right before waking up Fred’s voice rang out as an echo.
“Write to George, your honesty always helps.”
And I opened my eyes.
It was dark in the room. Probably the middle of the night. I was drenched in sweat as my hairs stuck to my forehead. My heart was beating fast as I tried to slow it down. It wasn’t the first night I hadn’t slept. It became like a habit, a circle that I couldn’t get out of.
I couldn’t sleep anymore. My mind seemed too tired to read, but I couldn’t just sit and do nothing. So I did the least logical thing – I went out for a walk.
God knows what hour it was, I didn’t care anymore. It was cold but refreshing at the same time. I walked around the grounds with no clear destination. I looked ahead not seeing anything. My mind was clouded with voices I couldn’t make out. After strolling around I found a rock to sit on. Wrapping myself up in the cloaks I looked around. It was dark, calm, quiet. You could hear the leaves swaying. The breeze softly caressed my face with a cold touch. It all felt so frozen in time I started to doubt if the sun would rise again. I looked up at the sky – it was full of stars. So beautiful yet so distant. Unmoving, always hanging up there by the same thread it was tied on years ago. Same sky, same place. Still you don’t get bored of them, you never think that they become ugly. While my eyes were swimming among the sea of endless dots I caught something. Clear ‘R’ and ‘F’ were seen made of stars. I smiled to myself. Maybe it wasn’t my imagination, maybe it was them visiting me in my dreams.
My feet started to get cold so I went back inside.
The lack of sleep caught on to me very quickly. The very same day I was almost snoring away in class. Yet I managed to keep my eyes open until the very end. But there weren’t any chances of getting a few hours of sleep – since I’m head girl I had to patrol the halls, looking for any trouble. Still I pushed through with all my strength and walked around for far longer than I thought. When dinnertime rolled around I didn’t even go to the great hall. I had no appetite. I went to the library instead - so original of me. But I had a plan, I wanted to exhaust my eyes to the point of disconnecting as soon as my head hit the pillow. And reading in bad lighting does make your eyes sore.
I didn’t count the minutes or hours, but after sometime a chair squeaked on the other side of the table. I was so invested in running through letters I didn’t even hear footsteps. When I raised my eyes I got more surprised.
“Uh, hello,” said Malfoy.
Am I dreaming again? Because the Malfoy I know would never strike up a conversation with anyone but his friends. Especially someone like me.
“Hello?” I answered uncertain.
We sat in silence for a few minutes. He was looking down at his hands, I was looking at him, trying to figure out his intentions.
“I wanted to apologize, I ran off like a child last time, it was stupid of me.” He seemed questioned by his own words.
I looked around, trying to see if someone was following up with this, because if they were, they wouldn’t believe anything just as I can’t believe it.
“Well,” I swallowed, “it’s your decision. If you don’t want my help – I won’t bother you.”
He nodded.
“I need to study over my free time, I need to catch up, it’s just that…” he seemed embarrassed.
“I don’t care,” I said simply and went back to my book.
He looked up at me, his mouth parted but no sound coming out.
“Well, uh…” he cleared his throat, “I… uh…”
I paid no attention to him until his question popped up.
"Are you okay?" Draco asked.
I looked at him startled.
"Fine," my mind couldn't make out many words, like a limit was counting down for the day.
I went back to reading my book.
"You sure?" He tilted his head to the side.
"What's your problem?" I closed the book almost shouting, stopping myself midway.
His eyebrows shot up from my reaction.
I closed my eyes trying to calm down. It's like a tiger was living inside me and he wanted to break free. The only thing is that I didn't know that tiger, I never saw him before - these feelings and reactions were new to me and I cursed myself for them.
"It's just that," Malfoy continued, "your under eyes literally match the blue rug."
I looked down under my feet. He was right, the blueish purple rug stood out next to my skin tone. It wouldn't be hard to notice that on my face.
"I just had a rough night," I answered ultimately.
“Night or nights?” He seemed to be playing a game.
I inhaled and exhaled loudly, closing my eyes.
"Oh right, couldn't sleep from the daydreams of Weasley." He sneered.
"Well, it's hard when your dreams become nightmares." I said.
He looked at me again.
"What do you mean?" He asked after a pause.
"What?" I raised my eyes at him. Yes, the same ones that matched the rug now.
"What did you mean by that?" He repeated slowly.
"By what?" My throat dried up.
"Don't act stupid," he was losing his temper.
I leaned back.
"So you don't know anything?" I asked, possibly understanding where the plot hole is.
"Know what?" He shot back.
I looked down at my hands. I hadn't considered the situation where Malfoy wouldn't know the events that took place over the summer. I'm not even sure that I should tell him. What if he starts badmouthing the Weasleys?
"Cat got your tongue?" He asked coldly.
I was fiddling with my hands.
"Ron passed away," I said, swallowing a weep, "during the summer."
Even though I wasn't looking at him, I could tell Malfoy stiffened up. So it's true, it was news to him. He had to digest this information, even though I thought rumors spread fast, well, truth spreads even faster.
We sat for some time with the background of talking students on the other side of the library. I always chose this corner because it was the quietest place here. I didn't know Malfoy's reasons for the same pick.
It seemed finally I made him speechless. I could only guess the things running through his mind.
"I'm sorry..." He whispered in a quiet voice.
It was weird hearing him like this, it made a contrast against his cold sharp tone. This was almost a melody, like he was trying to caress my soul with it. And weirdly it kind of worked.
"I had no idea." He added in the same voice.
I wanted to close my eyes and fall asleep to that sound, forgetting all the things in my head. Just to run away from those thoughts, just for a bit.
“It doesn’t matter,” I said fiddling with my hands. “There is no other way, it is just the way it is.”