Chapter 23
“Draco, we need to talk.” Hermione took a deep breath, steadying herself for what she was about to say. This would likely end in her embarrassment. Poorly. Draco would probably laugh at her. Scoff and mock that she had had the audacity to think such a thing could ever be possible. That she could think there would be anything between them. He would probably call her a mudblood—No. Hermione reminded herself, he wouldn’t do that.
At least she didn’t think he would. Going off of what she knew about Draco Malfoy and the time they had spent together over the last few weeks. And given what Theo had just told her about the state he had been in for the last week. She didn’t think Draco would ever sink to the level of using such a slur. But you also didn’t think he would be the type of wizard to fancy Pansy Parkinson, did you?
No. She hadn’t thought that either.
It didn’t matter. She needed to do this. For her sake, and well…for her sake.
“I’m sorry.” Hermione’s head flew up at Draco’s voice and she realized she’d been staring at the floor.
“What?” She hadn’t expected that. For him to talk. Well, she expected it, but maybe she hadn’t planned on it? Who knows. Why was he apologizing?
“I’m sorry.” He repeated and Hermione frowned. He must have noticed because he continued then. “I swear didn’t know.”
Yeah, that didn’t really help much.
“Draco, what are you apologizing for? I don’t think I understand.” She asked, shutting the door to his room behind her. Hermione must have missed something earlier because as she took him in, she realized Draco really looked worse for wear. His hair was unkept, his robes were wrinkled from where he sat on his bed, and if Hermione wasn’t mistaken, he looked to be in a great deal of pain.
None of this stopped him though from sitting forward on his bed and entreating as he spoke. “I can only imagine what you must think of me, of my behaviour over the last several weeks. I’m quite sure that if I were looking at this from the position of anyone else in the situation, I would advise you not the speak to me again, given what has happened.”
The stormy grey of his eyes disappeared from her sight as Draco looked down, his fingers were twisting with something in his lap. Hermione realized it was the bracelet he always wore. Briefly she wondered if it still worked, if it still emanated that strange feeling of calm that she had felt when she’d first noticed it. Hermione wondered if Draco could feel it, she hoped he could, he looked like he would do well with a bit of peace.
But then the words he’d said clicked with something in her head and Hermione paused.
“Draco, what on earth are you talking about?” She asked, stepping further into the room. She would keep her distance from him now, but still, it felt strange to speak to one another from metres away, given their history—friendship.
When Draco looked up, he seemed bewildered, but his expression was fierce. “My intentions.” He answered as if that was any kind of explanation.
“Your intentions?” Hermione repeated, utterly confused. Intentions sounded like something out of a nineteenth century romance novel, and Hermione was fairly certain Draco did not mean it in the same context as Mr. Darcy did when he spoke to Elizabeth.
Judging by the furrow that appeared between his brows, she’d amend that to maybe certain? This must be a wizarding culture thing? Was she allowed to phone a friend?
“Of course.” Draco nodded as if that explained anything. “I don’t wish to imagine what you must think of me given that it seems I have allowed myself to carry on with you while planning to court another witch.”
“Courting?” Hermione accidentally burst out. She slapped a palm over her mouth, pausing for just a moment before recovering. “I mean, what?”
“I promise that I never would have allowed myself to grow so close to you if I had any intention of seeing another witch.” His face looked torn up over the idea and Hermione almost found herself feeling guilty for even coming if it had made him upset.
“It’s fine.” She assured him, but that only seemed to make it worse.
“It’s not fine at all. It’s unreputable.” He insisted, moving towards the edge of his bed so that they were technically much closer together. Before he had seemed nervous, shy, even. But now he seemed almost angry at her confusion and dismissal. Hermione didn’t understand. Was he…trying to make her disappointed in him?
“Draco, we’re friends. Just friends. And it’s just a dance. You are allowed to take whoever you want.” It was the truth. The hard truth. The one she had been trying to remind herself of for the last several days. They were friends, good ones even, but that didn’t mean Draco owed her anything. Even if it meant she felt embarrassed, he hadn’t technically done anything wrong.
“Hermione—” He started, pushing himself off of the bed to stand, but as he did so, something must have happened because Draco doubled over with a groan.
“Draco!” Hermione couldn’t really control it as she rushed across the room to check if he was okay. Boundaries be damned, apparently. She placed one hand on Draco’s back and sank down to her knees so she could see his face. “What’s happened?” She asked. “Tell me where it hurts.”
But Draco shook his head. Hermione watched his Adam’s apple bob before he looked her in the eyes. Slowly, he stood up to his full height again, his hands finding hers. Hermione hated the way she let him pull her up, but it felt like she was in a trance. Draco was looking at her so sincerely and she couldn’t look away.
“Draco, where are you hurt?” She asked again. He’d been injured, that was one of the main reasons she was here after all, was it not? He was supposed to be too injured to walk, and yet he’d just jumped from the top of his bunk to the ground. Stupid, she mentally chided, though to be honest she didn’t let go of his hands or pull away when he stepped towards her.
“I’m fine.” Draco said. “But Hermione, no.” He shook his head slowly, his eyes were different, there was something about the way he was looking at her, something she couldn't read. His eyes wide, and bright blue—and she really needed to remember to ask him how he managed to do that to them the next time she wasn’t feeling so helpless around him. “What if I don’t want to be friends—I mean, Hermione what if I don’t want to be just friends? What if I want to be more? What if I wanted to take you?”
“Well—” What was she supposed to bloody say to that? A part of Hermione wanted to cheer with excitement from Draco’s words—did this mean he…fancied her? But another part of her almost wanted to cry from his words because… “You can’t.” She said softly, not willing to meet his eyes and let him see the disappointment that Hermione knew was flooding her own.
“But—”
“Draco you have a date.” She couldn’t even let him finish. “One you chose to go with. Who you asked to accompany you. One who’s really excited to go with you. I mean, she hasn't even stopped talking about it once in the week since you asked her.” The idea was festering in her. This hurt. She didn't know why but the idea hurt really badly and the hope she felt made it worse. There were a lot of emotions circling Hermione’s head, and the one of horror was only growing as she found herself defending Pansy Parkinson. She slowly extracted her hands from his grip as she shook her head and took a step back. “You can’t be doing this.” Hermione said to his face, suddenly feeling both emboldened yet also really small as she looked up at the tall boy before her.
“This is wrong. This is really wrong, Draco. It—it’s just a dance, but it is my feelings. And it is Pansy’s too. You shouldn’t be doing this.”
“Hermione, I swear to you I have never once given Parkinson the impression that I wanted to do anything with her, let alone escort her around for an entire evening.”
“You can’t control how people perceive your actions.”
“But I, please, I haven’t done anything.” Draco’s voice cracked and Hermione hated the way he sounded desperate. Even more she hated the way her stomach dropped at the thought that she was hurting him. This was too much.
Hermione tried to tuck her curls behind her ears as she pushed down her nerves one last time. Draco had gone pale, really pale, his expression dropping into what might be fear, but she couldn’t stop—Hermione wouldn’t. “Look, I came because Theo said you wanted to talk and-and he said you felt horrible that I’d overheard like that. And I did overhear. But I heard what happened, Draco. I heard your dad telling Pansy, and maybe you’re telling the truth now. Maybe you want to go with me now. But you didn’t stop him.” Hermione paused, glancing down for a moment to gather her thoughts as she took a number of steps backwards again. “Pansy thinks you want to go with her, and it would be wrong to do any different.”
“I know that, but—”
“But we can be friends. That’s all.” Hermione said, sadly. “It’s for the better.” And then she turned, opening the door the room and closing it behind her. Hermione heard Draco call her name once before she was gone, but she couldn’t afford to stop and listen. She needed to leave, her eyes were starting to sting quite a bit and Hermione knew that if she didn’t run quickly then tears were going to start falling and someone was going to see, so she ran.