Broken Mirror

xoXOXox

It took a moment to swim up from the black depths of sleep but as her mind crawled through the heavy fog and into the waking world, Hermione took a moment to just relish the fact that she wasn’t in any pain. Sure, her body felt drained and sore from the magic that had sizzled through her during the ritual but overall, she felt amazing. The sharp stabbing and wild burning that made her skin feel like it was trying to tear off her body was gone. It sat, content but alert in her chest, waiting on her command now instead of having to force its compliance. The relief was so great that a few tears welled up and flowed down her cheeks as she blinked her eyes open.

The sight before her brought a gentle smile to her lips. Harry was sound asleep, brow no longer furrowed from his constant worry, hair falling haphazardly across his cheek and eyes. His lips were slightly parted as he breathed in a deep, even rhythm. Proving to her that for once he was lost deep in the world of Morpheus. Another piece of her rage settled in her heart as she took him in, only to have to suppress a giggle as she noticed he had an extra arm and hand lingering on his waist. One that was pale, with thin aristocratic fingers.

Gently lifting, she took in the wizard curled around her brother in all but blood. Malfoy looked just as peaceful. Skin pale as moonlight and his now white hair falling just as uncaring across his face. Where Harry was all tan skin and dark hair, Malfoy was the exact opposite. Two different spectrums of color and look and yet, looking at them from this angle, she realized what a beautiful pair they made side by side. If only the two of them could look past all that had happened and admit they wanted to be exactly like they were now, encased and surrounded by the other. 

Her and Ron had known of Harry’s ever unrelenting crush on his school nemesis. For years, he pinned and hurt and wished he could be other than what he was, feel other than what he felt. Both of them had stood by him, held him when he cried, and raged with him when he exploded. All for the simple but terrifyingly destructive emotion called love. When Ginny had been included, she had willingly become the shield to protect Harry’s most dangerous and deep secret. 

They all had known if Voldemort was to find out that Harry was uncontrollably in love with the Malfoy heir, it would be used to bring him in or break him. It had been a precarious road to walk for them all and one that had almost ended in tragedy once and had ended in tragedy the second time. No one really knew what had gotten Ginny killed. No one but the three of them. It was a stain on their victory, a scar that would never heal for any of them.

Sitting all the way up, being careful not to wake the two sleeping boys, Hermione slid out of bed, curious why she was even awake. She had been told the toll of the ritual would most likely keep her asleep well into the middle of the next day. And yet, as she looked up at the window in her room, she realized that the sun hadn’t even broken the horizon. It was still late at night and yet here she was, awake and feeling slightly fidgety. Closing her eyes and checking herself, she realized it wasn’t coming from inside of her. Whatever had her feeling like she wanted to run or jump or scream with excess energy was external.

With a wave of her hand, another useful side effect to the new blend of her magic, Hermione walked across her room and through her door on silent feet. Standing in the hall, she closed her eyes and waited. It didn’t take long for the feeling to make itself known and turning to her right, she made her way down to the very last room. Whatever had her on edge was coming from Nott’s room. Not wanting to intrude, she knocked lightly, waiting to see if he was still awake. Time passed slowly, seconds dragging on like hours until she heard the distinct sound of a whimper. Telling herself she wasn’t that person now didn’t help her any more than it had helped Harry. Once a fucking hero, always a fucking hero.

Turning the handle quietly, she slipped inside the darkened room. Using the spell she created, Hermione blinked to let her eyes adjust to the magic before taking in the room. It was bare except for the bed in the very center, the desk in the corner. and the school trunk at the foot of the bed. Nothing personal was on the walls or desk. Nothing out of place or order. If she didn’t know better, she would think the room was unoccupied. But she did know better, and the occupant of said room was curled up in the middle of the bed, hands gripping around his body as he shivered. Another whimper slipped past his lips and something inside Hermione broke off and floated away with the sound. 

Moving closer, Hermione stopped next to the bed, eyes taking in his tear-streaked face, hair stuck to his head with sweat, breath coming out in short, ragged pants. He was in the middle of a panic attack, in the middle of his sleep. Having dealt with Harry’s on occasion and her own, Hermione gently crawled onto the bed, pulling the covers from being tangled around his legs and feet. Careful not to hold too tightly, she cupped his face in her hands, flicking one towards the wall to light the scones so there was some light when he opened his eyes.

“Nott. You’re having a nightmare. Wake up.”

He whined louder, hands jerking from around his body to grip painfully to her wrists. Keeping her touch gentle and her voice calm, she leaned over just enough that her warmth would register against his skin as she ran her thumbs over his cheeks.

“Come on, Nott. It’s time to come back to the waking world. Whatever it is, it’s not real. Not anymore. It can’t hurt you. You’re safe here. Wake up.”

She continued to speak in a low, hushed voice, gently running her thumbs along his face and her hands up into his hair to smooth it back from his face. She had no idea how much time passed, her skin growing cool in the night air, knees and feet going numb from the way she was sitting. None of that mattered as she tried to pull him away from his monsters and back to Hogwarts where he belonged.

His waking wasn’t slow or soft. It was jerky and violent. His eyes flashed open, magic sparking along his hands and burning a path of pain along her wrists and arms. Gritting her teeth, she held on, keeping her touch as soft as she could while the wild magic ran like fire down her body. 

“Granger?”

He jerked his hands away from her skin with a gasp, shoving himself to sit against the headboard as she released him and rubbed along her arms.

“Shit. I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?”

Taking a moment to assess, Hermione looked up and gave him a rueful smile.

“Takes more than a little zing of magic to hurt me, Nott.”

She had hoped the levity of her words would bring him further away from the darkness, but he only frowned at her, running a hand through his hair and gripping down on it.

“S’not funny, Granger. What are you doing here? I could have seriously hurt you.”

Tilting her head, she gave him an appraising look before shifting to sit more comfortably and allowing her legs and feet to regain circulation.

“I thought it was. I felt your nightmare. I was trying to help.”

He swallowed, his eyes turning confused.

“How did you know I was having a nightmare? And why the fuck would you want to help even if you did know? I’m a slimy, Slytherin, dark lord in the making. I’m your enemy. Why would you even care?”

She could feel her lips tipping down and with immense effort, forced her face to stay calm and blank.

“No you’re not, Nott.”

She couldn’t help it. The turn of phrase made her snot in a very unladylike fashion.

“You know, your last name leaves conversation open for so many puns. I think I have been missing out on years of amusement not saying your name.”

He blinked at her, then blinked again. She could tell his brain had completely stopped firing on all synapsis and it only made her tilted lips lift further. Before he could get agitated again, she sighed and leaned back on her hands, stretching her feet out in front of her, the same position she would take next to her best friends when conversing.

“You aren’t my enemy, Nott. And you aren’t a budding dark fucking lord. That is just absurd. You are a Slytherin but we can’t all be perfect. And slimy is not the adjective I’d use to describe you. Definitely a little sweaty at the moment, but considering the circumstances, I’d say that is acceptable. Are you okay now?”

Another blink that had her worrying for his mental state before his lips twitched and then he was laughing. It was the kind of laugh that expelled the terrors in one’s head. The kind that turned to hysteria if not kept in check. She knew that laugh well. It echoed in her nightmares and sometimes fell from her own lips. Moving carefully, she lifted back to her knees, reaching up to cup his face again. The touch snapped him out of his quickly approaching fall into madness so fast she worried for his heart, his eyes growing wide as he stared at her.

“Maybe try not to fall into complete insanity until you graduate, yeah? I’m told it’s really not all it’s cracked up to.”

Eyes flicking back and forth between hers, she watched out of her peripheral as his hand lifted and gently slid along hers on his face. His surprise turned to drowning confusion as he held her with his eyes and his hand. His words, when they came, were a mere whisper of breath.

“Why are you doing this?”

So many responses came to mind. Quips to lighten the mood. Half-truths that would make it easier for him to accept. But in the end, she was Hermione Granger and she had never hidden from the truths of the world, her own or anyone else's.

“Because you needed it, and I could provide it. Because I could feel your terror and I wanted it to stop. Because someone has to give a fuck, Nott, and even when I think I don’t want to, I still do. Call it a soft heart or a hero complex or just plain naivety but you needed someone, and I figured I was better than no one at all. I know I’m not who you would have wanted to find you that way and I swear it stays between us. I just couldn’t walk away. Okay? I couldn’t.”

He continued to stare at her, eyes wide and mouth slightly parted. She knew it would be hard for him to take considering how she had been when they first arrived and that was fine. She didn’t expect to be someone they leaned on. All of the Slytherin’s had just as much reason to distrust her as she had to distrust them. It wasn’t like they were friends. 

Realizing that was probably enough peer bonding for one night, Hermione slid her hands from his face and started to shift to leave him his space only to pause as his hand snaked out to wrap around her wrist. She held the flinch and her magic in, barely, grateful that the ritual seemed to have truly helped in that regard.

“Stay…”

Biting her lip, she turned her face to look at him, not sure what to do.

“Nott…”

He shook his head, eyes starting to glisten as his breath picked up in the beginning of another attack.

“Please, Granger. Please stay.”

She swore there was a time recently that her heart had turned to ice, and she could have scoffed at his obvious weakness and walked away without a care in the world. That time, it seemed, was passing along with the insanity that had sat under the rolling madness of her newfound magic. With a nod, she moved to lay beside him. Flicking his hand, something she did not know he could do, the covers slid back up to cover them both. Her wrist was kept prisoner in his hand as he settled back into the pillows, breaths slowing down the longer they lay in this odd sort of awkward silence. There was no way she was going to sleep like this. It was just too damn sterile.

It took a few tries before she was able to get him to release his hold on her. She could feel him tensing, his fear of being alone coming back to haunt him. Waving her hand, she blew out the scone before reaching over and pulling his shoulder. He seemed to stiffen further before giving up all resistance and rolling into her touch. 

She shifted as he did and was a little wary when he settled further down the bed, his head on her stomach, arms wrapped around her tightly. She waited a moment before realizing he wasn’t going to readjust. Lifting her hands, she ran them through his hair gently, letting one rest on his back as she buried the other one in the soft thickness. 

He froze once more before the air and fight seemed to leave his body and he sank into her fully. She continued to massage his scalp, gently threading through his hair and kneading along his back until his breathing evened out and he grew impossibly heavier against her. She didn’t think she was going to be able to sleep so close to someone she barely knew but as the night caught up to her again, she drifted off with her arms full of the broken boy and her mind clear of any lingering hatred or fear.

xoXOXox