The Unexpected Update! (11/?)
Title: The Unexpected
Author: Jen3227
Pairing: Draco/Hermione
Rating: Mature/R
Status: WIP
Summary: What can happen in the amount of one year? After Hermione wakes up in Hogwart's hospital wing along side Draco Malfoy, she comes to discover new things that she never thought could have happened.
For previous chapters, click here
Part Eleven
“What we need to focus on, is how to get your parents out.”
Hermione sharply looked at him. “I really need some answers here, Malfoy.”
He looked at her strangely, tilting his head to the side. “I believe I just gave you some.”
“No-” Hermione shook her head quickly, clearing her thoughts and reforming a way on how to ask what she wanted. “No.” She breathed deeply, looking straight at him. “I need to know why you're here, what happened with you, why you want to help me. Every. Thing.”
“Why?” He automatically asked, as if it didn't matter to her. But oh, it did. He was so damn mysterious, such a horrid person. How could she trust him, even after a truce and a contract? But then again, she reasoned, the contract only entailed the information that guarded himself, that the truce was only made so he didn't have to bicker with her the whole time. Making his time with her easier. For himself.
It was all for him, for himself. For a selfish reason.
Hermione had no doubt he wasn't a well rounded person for making master plans. He even looked like a hell of a strategist. And this, him helping her get her parents out, sounded a lot like a scam, considering he would never, ever, want to help her.
“Malfoy... despite the fact that we did the truce, the contract, and that we're here, talking somewhat civilly, I want this to be done; to get this over with so I can sit somewhere and read a book peacefully without thoughts overbearing my mind.
“Do you understand that? Do you comprehend the part that I have to trust my fucking enemy so that I can rescue my parents? You must know what that feels like, on some level. You're smart, I assume, so you can see what this would do to a person. I just want it done.” She averted her gaze, looking to her twisting hands in her lap. “I need it done. Gone, and away. From here, life, and me.” She lowered her voice, seemingly okay with the fact that she was giving up. That she was breaking down, again, in front of her enemy. “Please. I need to know.”
She didn't dare look up. She was a big girl, and even though she didn't want pity from anyone, if she looked up, and he was wearing a self satisfied smirk on his face, she'd start crying right then and there.
But she got no such thing, instead, she found she was being dragged out of the common room in a very disgruntled manner; being led by her elbow, a grip very hard, and not even a glance in her direction.
“Malfoy!” She finally rasped out, halfway down the corridor when she realized she was getting dragged away. “What the hell are you doing?”
He didn't answer, only trudged on harder. Hermione, with no success, continuously asked him what he was doing, where they were going, and why he was doing this. His answer to every question was to walk just a little bit faster, hold on a little bit tighter, until finally, she was about to rip her hand from his fingers, when he stopped. She hadn't even noticed they were outside either, until this point. An insult died on her lips as she looked around.
It was remarkably beautiful. And looking around again, was not near Hogwarts in any way; a secret haven, she quickly revealed it as.
“I brought you here, because you need to relax. Calm down. Doesn't matter, as long as you aren't yelling at me. Pitying yourself in front of me, or anything.” He sat down, leaning against a dark tree trunk.
She didn't know what to do with herself at his proclamation and settled on crossing her arms over her chest, looking to the sky.
“I don't care that you have to trust me, and I don't care what it's doing to you. You know this, get it into your fucking head that I don't want to hear about it.” She gulped at his words and tried not to wince, not to show emotion. “I will, however, tell you everything. For why, you will understand later.”
She didn't move from her spot after she nodded, and he didn't say anything to make her sit down, either. There was only silence in the air, settling around their beings. An awkward silence followed, holding against their wills with the apparent need to talk to each other.
Draco huffed, then spoke. “Granger, just sit. This is going to be a long talk. Longer than I hope it will last.”
She took the spot on the tree, beside him, curling her knees under her. She was aware that she had to listen to him, that she had to sit here and hear him drone on about his past, present, and now, future. Intrigued, she may be, but scared over ruled. Of why, she couldn't quite figure out.
“You may think of me however you like. But you need to get the fact that I don't give a shit what people think of me. I don't care.” He looked to her and she nodded slowly, “Good. Now that that is taken care of, I guess we can proceed now, yes?”
Hermione nodded again, looking away. She didn't know what it was like to be in his position, because, she did care, but she was almost sure she wouldn't like someone staring at her while she explained her whole life existence.
She noticed, in the back of her mind, that the meadow they were sitting in was as beautiful as yesterday, when she had gotten out of the hospital wing. The birds were singing again, and the sun was high on the horizon. She couldn't help revel in the nice weather as he began to speak.
“I was given to the Death Eaters as a present.” Her head whipped back to him, wide eyes upon his skin. “Yes, Granger, given.
“I don't want to hear what you have to say, and I don't want to see your expressions like that. I don't want pity, and I don't want any sort of emotion. I'm not telling you this, to get that type of reaction.
She sighed, looking back to the sky. “Okay...”
“I was given because I was the son of a Death Eater. Our lives are organized before we are even conceived. I couldn't make a damnedest decision on my own, and it was used against me at every twist and turn of my life.
“It was horrible, to live that life. But I don't care for feeling sorry for myself on the past. I can only conform around it, work around it because it won't ever change. My mother helped me with that part, she was great.”
“I would have died without her. And at times, I wanted to die, to have her done worrying about her failure of a son. She was my rock, and she kept me far away from those thoughts. Now-I don't-” His voice cracked and he swallowed hard, cutting off words that he would never speak.
“But my father. My father, he didn't care. It was bad against good, parent against parent, and his pull over me of scariness was far more over the love for my mother. So I did both, I pleased my father, and I pleased my mum by telling her I had to, telling her I only did it to keep her alive.
“However, I could never, ever, tell her that I was finally handed over to Voldemort. I knew she saw a difference when I came home, but never commented and never changed her treatment of me. I was grateful, but guilty.”
Hermione could hear the sincerity in his voice as he talked. In short, it shocked her beyond comprehension. Where had the sure-as-shit-don't-care-about-you-or-anything, gone? She knew he was still there, under the words that he was talking about. He was only there, for people he truly cared for. And in a way, Hermione respected that. It was much better than acting as if you cared for someone, when you really didn't. But it also hurt more people than it kept sane.
Draco Malfoy, you are one hell of a guy, she commented in her mind.
“My father finally got it into my head that I was one of them, that I was programmed to do such things. My mum noticed when I changed fully, when I was finally on their side, and not hers. It broke my heart to see her crack, to see her drop to her knees from my harsh words.” His jaw clenched and he breathed harshly. “But I had to. To save her. It was the only way.
“My mother would be mercilessly beaten when she ever doubted my father, ever went against him. And it was hurting me at the same time, because I couldn't see her like that, couldn't imagine why she did it for me, even after I broke her heart.
“The beatings stopped, slowly, and my mother became a shell. I further cracked under the guilt, but I didn't change. I couldn't change. Not with my father still around.
“He would tell me to do things, and I would comply. I've killed, Granger. Do you know what that feels like? Going to bed after knowing you've ended an innocent life?” Hermione looked to him with saddened eyes. She hadn't known how much he was breaking inside, hadn't known and never cared to know. She only thought it was numerous tiny things that he was dented from, with a broken life, but it was much, much more.
She didn't know how to react, but huddled her body closer to his. Warmth, she knew, made a person a whole lot better. He didn't shy away like she thought he would, but he neither showed any reaction to her movement. For that, she was happy.
“I got through those nights, rejuvenating myself with firewhiskey and girls. I wasn't the best of people, then, and I was as grouchy as Scrooge himself. And then came the fateful night that occurred at your house. Did you know I worked on those plans for such a long time, and I knew they were foolproof? And it had all gone accordingly, but upon leaving from your house with the rest of the Death Eaters, it had gone horrifyingly wrong.
“I was so ecstatic, so happy, that I thought my father and I would go back to the Manor, share a glass of brandy, maybe, and congratulate each other on such a win. I just wanted to please the fucking bastard, that it took over me.
“When we got there, I was immediately taken to a simple room by two guards. Only one chair resided in this square, and I was tied up. Magical bonds and such. I don't know how long I sat there, two days, maybe three, I don't know. I was given water once, and bread twice. It dehydrated me more, and I understood what they were doing. Killing me, I suppose, before they did it with hexes and such, because, then, I couldn't defend myself.
“I had no idea why they wanted to, why they wanted to kill someone that could very well help their side a lot, but they did it anyway. Voldemort walked in a day later, maybe, and beat me until I couldn't breathe right. I was left in a bloody mess, dying on the floor. I thought I would die, but then my father walked in. And do you know what he said?”
He turned to Hermione, his eyes glinting down at her. “Do you know what Lucius fucking told me?” Hermione didn't answer, but only looked at him. “He told me that he had killed my mother, that I was going to die in your clutches. The good side, and that my mother deserved to die. I could have killed him then, but I was dying myself.
“He pressed a portkey into my hand, and I ended up in Dumbledore's office. I was quickly nursed back to health, and that is why you saw me in the hospital wing. I talked to Dumbledore directly after, and he offered me a way out, to take residence in your precious Order. I still haven't decided what I want right now, but I know that I want to get back at my father. Only him.
“And you, Granger, are the way there. Getting people that I had earlier kidnapped, and I know where they are, is enough for him to be extremely mad at me. I want to see him angry, I want to see him smash his perfect features in, and I want him to scream.” Draco heaved a heavy sigh, and rested his head against the tree trunk. “I just want him gone, I want him to see what killing my only anchor would do.”
And then he was silent, Hermione sitting closely now. She didn't know what to do. His eyes were closed, and his arms were tensed, muscles bulging under his shirt. Her only reaction was to feel pity for him, but he had told her she couldn't feel anything, show anything, or any kind of emotion toward him.
But she couldn't just sit around while he sat there, breaking. So she did the unthinkable, did what she never wanted to do. She wrapped her arms around his waist.
It was slightly awkward at first, for they were both sitting against a tree, beside each other. Hermione's body was facing towards his, but he didn't move. She felt him stiffen, and at the last second when she thought he'd push her away and curse her out, he wrapped his right hand around her waist, pulling her body into his as he breathed into her hair.
It was the most sensational thing that she could be a part of, in a way she didn't want to understand. Sure, she'd hugged Harry and Ron before, but it just wasn't the same. They weren't completely relying on her when they hugged her, but Draco, here, now, was.
She quickly buried her head into his shoulder, breathing in his scent. Despite the fact that this hug was supposed to comfort him, she couldn't help but think the tables had switched. She was clinging to him like she clung to life, and he was rubbing his hand up and down her back, nudging the top of her head with his. It was a two-way hug, something they both needed.
And at the time, neither knew that this changed things-completely.
TBC