hermione. two.

[bookishlion]

Who: Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy
Where: Hermione's Cottage
Style: Third
Status: Closed

[continued from here]

Comments

[mudbloodhater]

It took him a while to get his wits about him, get dressed, and pad up to her room. The entire time, he still couldn't figure out for the life of him why she was helping him out. Maybe it was just the fact that she didn't want to hear him screaming, or maybe it reminded her of something. Either way, Draco was finally going to find something out.

His hand lingered over the doorknob briefly, and his mother's voice echoed in his mind, reminding him of his manners. Quietly, the blond muttered to himself, "Yes, Mother," and rapped at the door instead.

[bookishlion]

The knock was surprising. She had expected Malfoy to barge in, wand in hand, demanding to see whatever proof she had. Perhaps sixth year really had changed him more than she realized. She had assumed as much as the year progressed, but had never been very vocal in her thoughts to Harry or Ron.

"Come in," she called from where she was still sitting on the bed, the pensieve sitting next to her on the nightstand.

[mudbloodhater]

Even if it was just Granger, Draco thought that she deserved some level of respect. She was helping him, after all, much as they both hated each other. For the time being, he would be polite - or as polite as the situation warranted, at least.

He entered quietly, shutting the door behind him. There, he lingered briefly, staring at her with still-numbed gray eyes until glancing over to the pensieve beside her. He swallowed, padding forward a step or two, "Let's get this over with."

[bookishlion]

"Let's," she said, refusing to meet his eyes. Instead, she waved her wrist towards the pensieve in offering. "It's all set up for you. For obvious reasons, I won't be joining you. It's not a memory I wish to relive."

She pulled out her wand, silently moving a chair from across the room to her nightstand, giving him a place to sit. "Well, be quick about it, Malfoy," she snapped, but it was lackluster and filled more with the anxiety she felt of sharing something so painful with someone she hated. Again, she wondered why she was doing this for him; he probably didn't understand what she was sacrificing in showing him such a memory.