Fifth Year
Fifth Year:
The summer before fifth year was terrible, though it had its reprieves. Lucius Malfoy was busy nearly the whole summer, completing tasks for the Dark Lord and trying to maintain his appearances at the ministry. It left him precious little time to torment his son and wife. He always made up for lost time when he was home.
Now that the Dark Lord was back, no one but the Death Eaters were allowed to attend meetings. Draco stayed home, but his father made it very clear he would be expected to join the ranks in the future. He spent a large amount of his time at home lecturing Draco on the Dark Lord’s beliefs. Although Draco had not believed his father’s lies about muggle-borns for a few years now, he kept up his dutiful pureblood son act.
When he received his letter announcing his status as prefect, he could barely even muster up excitement for his mother’s sake.
He first saw Granger in the prefect meeting on the train ride to Hogwarts. He had hoped a summer away would have dashed the feelings he had been trying to ignore for all of the prior year. It didn’t. He saw her chestnut eyes glitter in the sun, her cheekbones more pronounced as she lost the childish roundness of her face, and he knew there would be no ignoring his feelings. He heard her soft laugh as she spoke with Weasley, and his heart skipped a beat.
They received their schedules for rounds. They would rotate partners, trying to switch house combinations to avoid any perceived bias. Every other Wednesday, he would be patrolling with Granger. Surely, he was in hell.
The moment they were dismissed from the Welcome Feast he made his way to Snape’s office. He had to knock only once before Snape opened the door, glowering. A raised eyebrow was the only welcome Draco received.
“Professor,” Draco began, “I need your help.”
Snape didn’t move. “Surely even you cannot have caused trouble already,” he drawled.
“Severus,” Draco pleaded, resorting to his godfather’s first name. “Please.”
Severus inspected Draco for another moment, his chin raised, before he stepped back and allowed Draco inside.
Severus sat in his armchair by the fire, picking up his glass that he must have poured just before Draco arrived. It appeared to be brandy. Draco was too wound up to sit, but his pureblood manners forced him to take the seat across from Severus.
When it became clear the older man would not speak first, Draco sighed. “You’re an occlumens.” It was not a question.
“I am.”
“I need you to teach me.”
A pause. “Why would you need me to do that?”
Draco studied him. His face was as unreadable as always. “I think you know why,” he said.
Severus took a long drink from his tumbler before setting it down. “What could you possibly need to hide from the Dark Lord?”
Draco paused only a moment before he said, “A girl.”
Severus narrowed his eyes. Draco was fairly confident Severus would know who he meant. There was only one girl who could hold so much power to make Draco come here, begging Severus to help him hide his feeling for her. “No,” Severus said. He gave no further explanation.
Draco’s jaw clenched. “Why not?”
“You are being ridiculous. Drop this now. Forget this girl, move on and the Dark Lord will see it as nothing more than adolescent lust. You may be punished, but you will be forgiven.”
Draco felt his temper rise. “This is not just adolescent lust,” he said.
Severus rolled his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. End this now Draco before things go any further.”
“Don’t you think I’ve tried?” he snapped. “You think I want to feel like this? To be in this position?”
What little patience Severus had been granting him dropped from his face. “Then try harder,” he said slowly.
“I can’t,” Draco said. “Please.”
Severus studied him for a moment, eyes narrowed to angry slits. “You are a selfish boy,” he hissed.
Draco reared back like he had been slapped. “I am doing this to protect her.”
Severus laughed without humor. “You are doing this to protect yourself. If you truly cared about protecting her, you would drop this and move on.”
“I’ve tried!” Draco cried. “I’ve tried to ignore her, to be with other girls, to forget her. It doesn’t work, nothing works!”
Severus stared at him. “I’ll teach you,” he said finally. “But only if you push this no further. You do not engage her, you do not tell her how you feel, you do not encourage these feelings you have for her.” The venom dripping from his words told Draco he didn’t believe Draco actually cared for her. It didn’t matter. He had agreed to help.
“I’ll do it,” Draco agreed.
Severus sighed. “We begin tomorrow night. Get out of my sight.” He said, refilling his tumbler.
“Thank you,” Draco said, rising from his chair.
He was nearly to the door when Severus spoke again. “You are a fool, Mr. Malfoy.”
Draco didn’t respond. There was nothing more to say.
They began the next night and continued almost every night thereafter. Severus pushed him hard, but Draco didn’t care. He knew the Dark Lord would not be gentle, would not grant him a moment to clear his mind before plowing his way into Draco’s most intimate thoughts.
The only nights he would get a reprieve were those when he had prefect duties. Twice a week he made his rounds in silence. His partners either ignored him in indifference or glared at him for the entire hour. He was never partnered with Weasley, he noted. Even the Head Boy and Girl would know that was just asking for disaster.
The exception to these silent rounds came every other Wednesday. The first night he was meant to have rounds with Granger, he found himself inexplicably nervous. His stomach twisted and turned all through dinner until he finally gave up and went to his room until it was time to meet. He tried to read a book, but his eyes skimmed the pages without actually taking in the words. Would she even show up? Maybe the idea of spending an hour with him was so abhorrent she would beg someone to switch schedules. He found himself doubting that; the Gryffindor was too proud to back down from a challenge. So she would show, but would she ignore him? Glare at him? Hex him? He would hardly blame her. He knew he had been terrible to her and her friends, but he had his appearances to maintain.
The unease in Draco’s stomach grew on his walk to the meeting point until he feared he would be physically ill. He was early, but he hadn’t been able to just sit and wait in his room any longer. To his surprise, Granger was already there. She sat primly on a bench, a book open in her lap.
When she heard him approaching, she looked up. Seeing it was him she carefully tucked a placeholder in her page and stashed her book away in her bag. She stood. “Malfoy,” she said with a slight nod.
He swallowed, begging his voice not to reveal his nerves. “Granger.”
Without another word, she began on the path that would be their rounds, and he followed obligingly. The first half of that first night was spent in silence. Draco itched to say something, but he had given Severus his word he would not engage his feelings, and he knew it was for the best. He forced himself not to study her, not to analyze the look on her face. She appeared thoughtful, expression soft but lips pursed just slightly. Was she thinking of the book she was reading? Upcoming assignments? Her friends? Him?
Stop that, Draco chastised himself. He kept his gaze straight ahead.
After half an hour in silence, without finding any students to report, Granger spoke. “Are you alright, Malfoy?”
He was so caught off guard by the question he forgot he wasn’t supposed to be engaging her. He turned to find her studying him, that thoughtful expression turned to him. “Fine, why?”
She shrugged, facing forward again. “You just look a bit ill.”
Had he been that obvious? He forced himself to work harder schooling his features into a neutral expression. “I’m fine,” he snapped, harsher than he had intended.
She didn’t respond, and he assumed that would be the end of things. After a few minutes, she proved him wrong. “What are your thoughts on today’s transfiguration lecture?”
Once again, she had caught him completely off guard. “What?” he said dumbly.
“Today’s lecture,” she said again, as though that clarified everything. “Personally, I find it fascinating that so much focus is required for altering color. You would think it is something simple, elementary even, but I suppose it does make sense. There are so many colors that of course focus is required to be exact. Think about it, were I to ask a room of people to imagine the color ‘purple,’ they all could have a different color in mind. I was considering finding a muggle art book on color theory to study the topic further. What are your thoughts?”
What strange world had Draco stumbled into that he was walking the halls with Granger while she politely discussed a transfiguration lecture? Was this some sort of joke? Surely it wasn’t real life. He didn’t even realize he had stopped walking until she stopped as well and turned to look at him. “What are you doing?” he asked.
She tipped her head to the side in confusion. “I was discussing the lecture,” she said slowly.
Draco shook his head. “That’s not what I meant,” he snapped. “If you’re going to hex me, just bloody get it over with.”
“I’m not going to hex you,” she scoffed. “Are you going to hex me?”
“No,” Draco replied automatically.
“Then why would I hex you?”
Was she joking? She didn’t appear to be joking. She was looking at him with open curiosity and confusion. “Why wouldn’t you hex me?” What else could he say? He doubted he needed to list his many sins against her.
She took a step forward, slowly, as one would approach a wild animal. “Malfoy,” she spoke slowly as well. “I’m not going to hex you.” Her voice seemed sincere. “You’ve been cruel to me in the past, and I think you can be an absolute prick,” she took another careful step toward him, “but you’ve also been kind to me, in your own way. You’ve shown me you’re quite capable of being civil, and I would much prefer to keep it that way. So, as long as you don’t hex me, I won’t hex you.”
Was this a dream? Could Granger really have called him kind? He was many things – arrogant, stubborn, cowardly – but never kind. He didn’t respond; he wasn’t sure he could respond. After a moment, Granger turned and continued walking. He followed dazedly.
“Besides,” she continued, “believe it or not, not all Gryffindors are as trigger happy as Ron and Harry.”
Was that a joke? She was joking with him? Definitely a dream.
When a few minutes went by without Draco waking up, he found his voice again. “Tell me more this about muggle color theory?”
She did, and soon he found himself forgetting his theory that this was a dream, forgetting that he had promised Severus not to engage. He would ask her questions, and he admired the way her eyes seemed to glow when his questions would lead her to a new idea. They discussed theories, analyzed techniques, and the remainder of their patrols were over before Draco knew it. He didn’t realize until he reached the dungeons that he was still smiling.
Their next patrol, Granger began speaking nearly the moment she saw him in the corridor. She had read more on muggle color theory and was eager to discuss her findings and new theories with him. Then they moved on to discuss the charms lecture from that day.
They fell into an easy rhythm. The knot of nerves Draco felt before their patrols were replaced by anticipation. The hour would pass too quickly, and after their third patrol they had lingered in the hall, continuing their discussion even though they were done with their rounds. When they discussed potions, Draco found himself leading the conversation, and he swore he could get drunk off the hungry look in Granger’s eyes as he shared his knowledge and theories.
One day after their third round of patrols, Draco was sitting in the library working on a charms essay when someone plopped into the chair across from him. He looked up, startled; he had thought the library had been empty. When he saw who it was, he was shocked. Granger was sitting there, eyes alight and a book open in front of her. Before he could even say hello or ask what she was doing, she launched into a discussion on Polyjuice potion, continuing the conversation they had had last as if there had been no interruption before. Soon he was swept up in her excitement and theories and lost in the conversation as well.
They did not meet every day. But several times a week, when the library was empty, she would unceremoniously seat herself across from Draco and begin exactly where they had left off last or regale him with some new theory she was developing. They discussed their classes. She ranted about Umbridge, and Draco listened. He could agree that Umbridge was useless, but he could not speak that out loud. He knew where his loyalties were meant to lie. They discussed literature, and when Granger spent an hour comparing muggle and wizarding classics, Draco checked out a few muggle books to read in his room, alone at night with the curtains drawn.
He continued making progress with Severus. He could easily keep out moderate probing now, but the Dark Lord would not be gentle or kind. The day Severus broke through his walls and glimpsed one of his conversations in the library with Granger, he forced Draco from his office without another word. Draco had expected him to stop teaching him, per their agreement. But when he showed up to his godfather’s office the next night, the older man had opened the door and began their work as though nothing had changed.
He knew it was wrong. He knew he was putting them both at risk, but he couldn’t find it within himself to ask her to leave, to shut her out.
He kissed Pansy Parkinson in dark alcoves. He helped Umbridge search for Potter and his band of misfits, trying to determine what they were up to. He did everything a good little pureblood heir was meant to.
His meetings with Granger were growing more infrequent, but at least once a week she would still seat herself across from him and launch into a discussion. As though they didn’t both know he was trying to bust her and her friends’ secret meetings for Umbridge. They discussed O.W.L.s and Draco’s thoughts on the muggle literature he had been reading. Anything but the elephant in the room.
By the end of term, he could keep Severus out of his mind no matter how hard he pushed. Even when Severus hexed him while trying to enter his mind, Draco could hold his walls in place. He did not know if he would be able to hold it while being crucio’d – Severus had refused to do it when Draco asked to try – but he hoped it was enough. Severus instructed him to continue practicing over holiday and told him he would teach him legilimency when he returned. Apparently knowing one made you stronger in the other.
When Arthur Weasley was attacked, he was sure that Granger would come to her senses. She would hex him when she saw him next, he was certain.
But on the last day of term, he heard the familiar sound of the chair across from him being pulled out, and when he raised his head from his book, she was there. The smile she gave him was barely there at all, but it was there. She began talking about what subjects she hoped they would study the next term. Her rambling seemed to be more out of nerves than her usual excitement, but she was there, and she wasn’t hexing him. Draco didn’t understand why, but he was too selfish of a boy to question it.
The holiday was blessedly quiet. His father was busy with the Dark Lord, leaving Draco and his mother in peace. He knew something big was coming, but he didn’t know what. He knew whatever it was, he would be powerless to stop it.
Once again when he returned from holiday, he expected Granger to have come to her senses, to find an end to their conversations. He was wrong. In fact, when he went to the library the first day of term, he found her already seated at his usual table. He forced his feet to work, to walk to the table and take the seat across from her. “Granger,” he said carefully. His typical greeting.
“Hello, Malfoy,” she nodded. “How was your holiday?”
“Fine, you?”
“Quite fine, thanks.” She was silent for a moment, chewing her lip. Then she snatched a piece of parchment from her bag and laid it on the table. She slid it toward him.
He quirked an eyebrow at her before picking it up. He had no idea what he was looking at. “What is this?” he asked.
“A list of topics,” she said. When he didn’t respond, studying the page, she added, “I didn’t want to forget anything.”
She had made a list of things she wanted to speak to him about? Her face and posture were the picture of confidence. Only the faint blush staining her cheeks gave her away. Draco realized then he wanted desperately to kiss her. He dropped his gaze before he did something utterly idiotic.
“Where would you like to begin?” she asked.
Draco cleared his throat, begging his words to come out clearly. “How about magic’s interreference with muggle electricity?”
Granger was nodding. “Oh yes, I desperately wanted to watch a Christmas film over holiday, but we were in a magical house. That got me thinking . . .” And so it went, as they fell back into their normal pattern.
Severus told Draco he would have to cut back on their occlumency – and now legilimency – lessons. He didn’t tell Draco why, only that he now had another commitment several nights a week. That was fine with Draco; he was happy to use his extra time to sit in the library. Just in case.
When his Aunt Bellatrix and nine other Death Eaters escaped Azkaban, Draco could hardly eat for a week. He had never met his aunt, but he had heard more than enough stories. He knew she was the Dark Lord’s most dedicated follower, that she was certifiably insane, and that she was cruel beyond measure. He also knew she was an incredibly powerful legilimens, and he found himself even more grateful for his lessons with Severus.
He didn’t speak to Granger for a week after that, despite going to the library every day. He saw her in the Great Hall and in classes, and each time he did he felt relief. She’s perfectly safe here, he told himself, but it didn’t work.
The next time she came to him in the library, she had barely sat down before he blurted out, “Let’s talk defensive spells.”
If Granger was surprised by his sudden taking charge, she didn’t show it. “What did you have in mind?” she asked simply.
It was ridiculous, he knew. His aunt would have no reason to encounter Granger, let alone to intrude on her thoughts. But he couldn’t stop thinking about what would happen to the both of them if she did and she saw that Draco had been friendly to her. Even if she couldn’t know Draco’s feelings for the girl sitting here with him, his aunt was insane. Perhaps she would kill Granger just for daring to speak with a Malfoy.
He tried to appear nonchalant. “Oh, I don’t know. Do you have any experience with occlumency?”
Granger paled, which confused Draco. Did she know his reason? “Why do you ask?” she said, and he could tell she was feigning casualness as well.
He tried to keep up the act. “No reason in particular. It’s a good skill to know. I’ve been trying to learn legilimency myself. Perhaps we could practice our skills with one another?”
She studied him. She knew he was hiding something, just as he knew she was. Neither would question the other. They both knew this arrangement they had was balanced on a knife point. They both had their secrets, and it would have to remain that way. Eventually she nodded. “Alright.”
Draco nodded as well. “Good, you should start with reading theory and practicing by yourself. We can begin next time. How are your shield spells?”
And so they continued. Draco quizzed her, testing her knowledge on defensive spells, counter curses, and anything he could think of. To his surprise, she began to quiz him as well. She tested his knowledge on protective spells and lectured him on warding spells. Before they realized, it was nearly curfew – the longest they had ever spent together.
As they were packing up their things, Draco asked. “Can you dance?”
Granger whipped her head up in confusion. “I’m sorry?”
“Can you dance?” he repeated. “I know you waltzed with Krum at the Yule Ball but was that a fluke?”
She blinked, slowly. “I – it wasn’t a fluke. I took ballet as a small girl, and I suppose I still remember some. I can dance alright, but it takes practice.”
Draco nodded. “Then you should practice. Dueling is just as much your ability to dodge and be light on your feet as it is your spell casting ability. Dancing is good practice.”
He watched as understanding finally shown in her eyes, and then they glowed in that way they did when she had a million ideas churning through her head. She nodded, then bit her lip.
“What?” he asked. He recognized that face as well – she had discovered an obstacle.
“Well,” she was blushing, “I don’t know anyone who could teach me. Ron and Harry are useless when it comes to dancing.”
Draco forced himself to focus on putting his books in his bag. “Fine then. We’ll practice that after occlumency.” He would not allow himself to look at her as he walked out. He would not allow himself another word as he passed her, afraid of what he would say.
He expected it to be another week before he spoke with Granger again, but to his surprise she sat across from him the next night, dropping several books onto the table in front of her.
His brows raised. Peeking at the spines he saw she had two books on occlumency theory, and one on dancing. He looked back to her, and her chin was raised, eyes daring him to challenge her. “You are such a swot,” he said.
Instead of hexing him or cursing at him as she may have once, she merely twitched her lips up in what was almost a smirk. “I know,” she said. “Are you ready?”
His mouth felt dry. He hadn’t thought this all the way through before. “Granger,” he began, “I should warn you. If you cannot keep me out, it means I will see inside your mind. Your thoughts and feelings.” Although he had just begun his legilimency lessons with Severus, he had picked up on it much quicker thanks to his work with occlumency.
“I know how it works,” she responded.
Of course she did. “I’ll try not to pry too much, and to leave as soon as I break through.”
Granger narrowed her eyes. “Don’t you dare go easy on me, Malfoy.”
His lips twitched of their own accord. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
She was a natural occlumens. Draco was not surprised. Between her natural talent and his still developing legilimency skills, he did not have much success breaking through her walls. Twice he was able to get through and peaked a memory before he withdrew. He was relieved both times it was benign – all he saw was a quidditch pitch before he pulled away.
After an hour, they were both exhausted and decided it was enough for the day. “You did well against me, but a stronger legilimens would have been able to get through no problem,” Draco said.
She nodded. “We will keep getting stronger together.”
Draco hated the way his stomach felt when she said “we.” He was a hopeless sod.
Granger stood. “Ready to move on to dancing?” she asked.
He really hadn’t thought this through. He was glad he had moved on to legilimency with Severus because he was sure his godfather would murder him if he knew what he was doing. But he rose anyway, nodding slowly. They were in the back corner of the library, deserted especially at this time of night. There was just enough space between the shelves to suit their needs.
Slowly, he walked up to Granger. She held up one hand for him to take and placed the other on his shoulder. He moved to lift his hands, only to find them shaking.
“Malfoy,” she whispered. He couldn’t meet her eyes. He never should have suggested this. “Malfoy,” she repeated. When he still didn’t meet her eyes, she asked, “Is it really so bad to touch me?”
Now he met her eyes. “No,” he whispered firmly. “No, Granger, that isn’t it.”
She looked skeptical. “Then what’s wrong?”
He took a deep breath and forced his occlumency walls into place. His hands stopped shaking, and he was finally able to put one on her waist and clasp her free hand in his. “Nothing,” he said. “Let’s start with a waltz.”
He wouldn’t say she was a natural dancer, but she was a quick learner. It took little practice for her to get the steps down, and soon she was moving gracefully on her feet with him.
They continued their new routine, meeting when they could to practice occlumency, legilimency and dancing. Between his sessions with Severus and Granger, Draco was nearly as strong a legilimens as Severus after a couple of months. Granger was quickly catching up to his occlumency skills as well, and he felt confident she would soon be able to hold her own even against his aunt. Though if it was up to him, the two would never meet for her to have to test her skills.
Draco had taken the habit of putting his occlumency walls into place the moment they switched to dancing. It made it easier. He could smell her hair, lightly hinting of coconut and mango, see the flecks of gold in her eyes, and he was able to keep his focus. Once, as he stepped to Granger after a few months of practice, she stepped away from him in response.
“Is something wrong?” he asked.
“Don’t do that,” she responded.
Had he done something wrong? He racked his brain but could think of nothing he had done out of the ordinary. “Don’t do what?”
“Don’t occlude just so you can handle dancing with me.”
Had he not had his walls firmly in place, he was certain his face would be ashen. Did she know then? Did she know his feelings for her? “Why not?” he asked calmly.
Her eyes were angry slits. “If it is so unbearable for you to be near me, then perhaps we should just cease these meetings.”
Unbearable? It was difficult, sure, to maintain his composure while he danced with her, but he would hardly call it unbearable. Then he understood. She had no idea how he felt for her. In fact, she believed he occluded because he was disgusted by their proximity. His walls slipped. “Granger, you’ve got it all wrong.”
She crossed her arms. “Oh? Then enlighten me.”
“I can’t,” he said lamely.
She huffed and began to turn away. He couldn’t let her leave, not like that.
He caught her shoulders and forced her to face him, his grip gentle but firm. He let his walls slip so she could see the sincerity in his eyes as he spoke. “Granger, please believe me. That isn’t it. But I cannot tell you the reason. We both have our secrets, that’s how this works. You’ll just have to trust me on this one too.”
She studied him for several moments, and then her face softened. She nodded, and he released her. “Alright, I trust you.”
He had to snap his walls right back into place to prevent the feelings those words stirred in him from spilling over. He took her hand in his and they continued their lessons.
They were caught on April first. Draco wanted to throttle Potter for how careless he had been. He did have to admire Granger’s jinx placed on the paper. It was a very Slytherin thing to do.
They didn’t meet again after that.
His lessons with Severus ended, but there wasn’t much more he could have taught him anyway.
He joined the Inquisitorial Squad, patrolled the halls and docked points constantly. He played the good little pureblood heir.
But he searched the Great Hall for her every meal. He held her eyes longer than he should have when they met across the large room. Once, when his friends were preoccupied, he even cast a subtle legilimens under the table, just to test her.
He hit her walls and she raised an eyebrow as if to say, “You really doubted me?” He was only mildly surprised to feel pride swell his chest.
When he began to catch Gryffindors practicing subtle dance steps before classes, he knew it was her. She was teaching them the only thing she still could.
During the day he was a menace, doing Umbridge’s bidding without question. At night he dreamt of her. The night he dreamt of arguing with her over transfiguration theory in the library, he knew he was a goner. He missed her desperately. He was pathetic.
He had never hated Potter as much as he did the night that he caught them in Umbridge’s office. He shoved Crabbe out of the way so that he could grab Granger. The idea of Crabbe’s gruff hands gripping her was unacceptable. Draco pinned her arms to her sides, keeping his grip as loose as he dared. She was fighting him, struggling against his hold. “Stop it,” he hissed in her ear.
Umbridge was shrieking at Potter, distracted from Granger for the moment. “You have to let us go,” she whispered. “Please, Malfoy. It could be life or death.”
His grip tightened, though he was careful he did not hurt her. Umbridge was still not paying them any attention. “Whatever you think is happening, it’s likely a trap, Granger.” His mouth was nearly brushing her ear, but he wouldn’t let himself think about that now.
“Harry can’t take that risk. Please.”
Her tone, pleading and desperate, felt like a knife in his chest. But what was Draco supposed to do? Perhaps if it was just him and Umbridge, but there were too many witnesses. If he did something, they would all know. He couldn’t take that risk. “I can’t,” he whispered.
She began her thrashing again. He felt sick.
Umbridge was going to torture Potter. Granger was nearly shaking in his arms. He wanted to hold her, not as a captor, but as support. He tightened his grip.
“Just tell her, Harry!” Granger screamed.
Everyone froze.
“Tell me what, dear?” Umbridge asked. Draco wanted to hex her, to punch her in her toad-like nose.
Then Granger was rambling about some “secret weapon” of Dumbledore. He knew she was lying. He knew it had to be a trap. He heard it in the tremble in her voice, the way her hands still shook. But Umbridge believed her, and he would not correct her.
Umbridge had turned her focus back to Potter, getting him to stand to be ushered out the door. Draco did the one thing he could think of to help Granger. He had taken her wand when he caught her in the room. Now he slid it up her sleeve as covertly as he could. He felt her stiffen. “Don’t let Potter get you killed,” he hissed in her ear.
Then he let her go, and Umbridge led them out the door with her wand pointed at their backs.
He wanted to follow her. He reminded himself she was the brightest witch of her age, and Potter was a survivor if nothing else – Boy Who Lived and all that. He had to trust she would be okay.
Moments later the rest of Potter’s gang turned on them. Draco was hit with one of Ginny Weasley’s infamous bat boogey hexes.
“Give me Hermione’s wand, Malfoy,” she demanded, wand at his throat.
“I don’t have it,” he snapped.
“Like hell, I saw you take it. Give it over.”
He didn’t know if the rest of the Inquisitorial Squad was listening. “I. Don’t. Have. It,” he repeated. He let his eyes bore into hers, begging her to understand.
He didn’t know if she did, but a moment later, when Weasley yelled, “Come on, Ginny!” she let her wand drop and followed him out without another word.
It was a terribly long night. Draco had no idea where they had gone. He had no idea if Granger was alright. He paced in front of the Great Hall until curfew, hoping he would see her making her way back into the castle. Eventually he had to give up and he made his way back to his room. He didn’t sleep that night. He tried to read one of his muggle books, but he couldn’t focus. He tried to sleep, but he tossed and turned until he couldn’t stand it any longer. Eventually he just went and sat in the common room in front of the fire.
In the early morning hours, he couldn’t stand it any longer. He snuck out of the common room and made his way silently to the infirmary. He had a strange sense of déjà vu, remembering the trek he made in second year in search of the same girl. He hoped this time she wouldn’t be there.
She was. So were the rest of Potter’s gang – all except Potter himself. They were all asleep, and the light under Madam Pomfrey’s door was dark. He should leave. He knew she was here, she was clearly alive at least, but his feet wouldn’t listen. He crept to her bedside, telling himself he just needed to see the rise and fall of her chest, just to be sure and then he could leave.
She looked peaceful. He hoped that meant she wasn’t in pain. He could see no major wounds visible above the sheets, just some minor scrapes and bruises. Perhaps that was all she was here for? He doubted it.
Her tangle of hair was spread around her pillow like a halo. One strand fell in front of her eyes. Gently, careful not to wake her, he brushed it aside.
He must not have been gentle enough, because her eyes fluttered open. He was going to leave then, let her rest, but her breathing started increasing at a rapid rate, her head flipping back and forth as though she didn’t know where she was. He crouched down beside her bed. “Shh, shh,” he whispered. “It’s alright, you’re safe. You’re safe, Granger.”
She blinked at him in the dark, but her breathing slowed. “Malfoy?” she whispered.
“It’s alright, Granger. You’re safe.”
She nodded. Her eyes drifted shut once more, and after only a moment her breathing returned to the deep rhythm of sleep. He allowed himself one last look at her before he rose, creeping silently back to the dungeons, where he finally fell asleep.
She remained in the infirmary for two more days. He knew, because he searched for her at each meal.
His father was arrested. The events that had taken place after Potter’s crew left Umbridge’s office that night were announced in the Daily Prophet. The Dark Lord had officially returned. Draco knew that his father’s arrest would not grant him peace that summer. He did not know the details, but he was sure his father had been acting for the Dark Lord, and he was sure his arrest meant he failed. He didn’t know what that would mean for his family, but he was certain it wasn’t good.
On the last day of term, he sat in the library. He pretended to read a book on the history of brooms, but his eyes were staring emptily at the page. The library was empty since exams and classes were over. He knew she wouldn’t come, that he was being a ridiculous fool, but he sat there anyway.
He had been there twenty minutes when the chair across from him was pulled back. He couldn’t believe it when he saw her. He let his eyes rake over her. Her scrapes and bruises were fading, and she otherwise looked well, but her movements were stiff. Too much time in a hospital bed?
He realized he had been staring at her too long. “I didn’t think you’d come,” he said quietly.
She averted her eyes. “I didn’t think I would either, if I’m being honest.”
“Then why did you?”
She took a deep breath, then finally met his eyes. “I wanted to apologize.”
Draco could only stare.
She pushed ahead. “I was upset with you for not letting us go, that night. But I’ve realized now that was unfair of me. There was nothing you could have done, not with Umbridge and the Inquisitorial Squad watching. I see that now, so I am sorry for being unjustly upset.” Her words were spoken quickly, in an even tone. Like she had been rehearsing them.
When Draco could finally find his words, all he could say was, “You are absurd.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Am I not forgiven then?”
Draco shook his head. “Granger, you shouldn’t be apologizing to me. I – I should apologize to you. I let you down.”
She reached out and grasped his hand that had been lying on the table. She squeezed. “You gave me my wand. You tried to warn me not to go, that it would be a trap. You did what you could. You didn’t let me down, Draco.”
His throat tightened at her words, at her use of his first name. He had to swallow twice before he could speak again. “Were you hurt?”
Her eyes flicked away, and he didn’t miss the way her free hand floated to her abdomen. “I’m fine,” she said.
“That’s not what I asked.”
She met his eyes. “A curse to my abdomen, but I’m alright now. Really.”
The hand under hers clenched into a fist. “Did he do it?” He didn’t have to clarify who “he” was. His father.
“No,” she answered, giving his hand another squeeze. “Dolohov.”
Draco nodded, even though his blood boiled. He wished he could kill Dolohov then.
They sat in silence for a few minutes, neither looking at the other, but her hand still rested on his.
“Did you –” Her voice cracked. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Did you visit me in the hospital wing?”
Draco still wouldn’t meet her eyes. “I just had to make sure you were alright,” he whispered.
“Why?” Her voice had dropped to a whisper as well.
Now he dragged his eyes up to hers. “You know why, Granger.”
She dropped her gaze to their hands, and he knew she did. She was the brightest witch of her age, after all.
When she spoke again her voice was hoarse. “Let us help you. We can protect you.”
“No.” His voice was firm. “No, Granger. My path is sealed.”
She ripped her hand from his, suddenly angry. “Don’t say that,” she hissed. “We can protect you, it doesn’t have to be this way.”
He stood and walked around to her side of the table. He knelt in front of her. “Listen to me, Granger. If I leave, he will kill my mother. I can’t let him do that. And before you say it, my mother will never leave, not without my father. I cannot leave.” She looked like she was about to protest, so Draco reached out and clasped her hands in his. “Listen to me, Granger,” he hissed. “I cannot protect you. As you saw yesterday there is nothing I can do to help you. I have been selfish, talking to you, spending time with you. I’ve been putting us both at risk and it needs to end now. I don’t know what is going to happen this summer, but I know it won’t be good. I am trying to survive. To protect my mother. I can’t – I can’t worry about you too. Please, let this go, Granger.”
Her brown eyes were glassy. “No. There must be something we can do. We’ll talk to Dumbledore –”
“Hermione,” he whispered. “Please.”
She took a deep breath, blinking back tears. Finally, she nodded.
Draco sighed. He took her hands up to his mouth, brushing his lips gently against the back of her knuckles. He would allow himself this, this one last sin. He was truly a selfish creature. After a moment he stood, and she followed suit. “I’m sorry, Granger,” he said.
She shook her head. “I will not push you. But I have conditions.”
“Of course you do,” Draco grumbled, but he flicked his wrist in a “go on” gesture.
“First,” she began, “I’ll worry about me if you worry about protecting yourself.”
Draco rolled his eyes. This may be the first time someone had ever preached to a Slytherin about self-preservation. “I’ll see what I can do.”
She lifted her chin and met his gaze with steel in her eyes. “Second,” she continued, “the moment there is a way for you to safely get out, you take it.”
Draco sighed. “Granger –”
“No,” she interrupted. “Don’t ‘Granger’ me. I am not dense, Draco Malfoy. I know this is not the life you want. I know you don’t share the same beliefs as your father anymore. You are in danger every day you no longer hold those beliefs. You don’t get to act like you’re the only one who is allowed to worry about the other. I can’t live every day waiting for you to be found out. So, the moment you are safe to get out, you get out. Do you understand?”
He had never wanted to kiss her more. He settled for a smirk. “Yes, ma’am,” he said.
She nodded. She squeezed his hand once more before walking away. Draco stood there, simply watching her go. He would hold that look in her eyes, the fiercely protective note in her voice, close to his heart this summer. He prayed it would be enough to get him through what was to come.