Arbitrary Alignment (11/?)
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Hermione/Draco
Rating: PG13
Summary: A Draco goes to the Order's headquarters/werewolf fic.
Disclaimer: If Harry Potter belonged to me Tom Felton would have had much more than a couple lousy minutes in Half Blood Prince. In fact I would change 'Harry Potter' to 'Draco Malfoy'. Because bad guys are more interesting. If only...
AN: An extra long chapter ripe with lemons.
-
-
-
Apart
excluded from consideration; away from one another in space or time
"Black Swan" Thom York
What will grow quickly you can't make straight
It's the price you gotta pay
Do yourself a favor and pack you bags
Buy a ticket and get on the train
Cause this is fucked up, fucked up
People get crushed like biscuit crumbs
And laid down in the bed you made
You have tried your best to please everyone
But it just isn't happening
No, it just isn't happening
And it's fucked up, fucked up
And this is fucked up, fucked up
This your blind spot, blind spot
It should be obvious, but it's not.
But it isn't, but it isn't
You cannot kick start a dead horse
You just crush yourself and walk away
I don't care what the future holds
Cause I'm right here and I'm today
With your fingers you can touch me
-
-
-
Previously
She thrusts out both hands at him in a desperate attempt to halt his advance. "Malfoy?" She says desperately looking for some sign that he is still in there. His eyes are feral, devoid of any kind of human emotion. "Malfoy stop."
She searches the gray depths for him. For the Malfoy that sneered at her and called her Mudblood so many times. For the Malfoy that taunted her with laughter after his curse made her teeth grow past her chin. For the Malfoy that glared at her with black hate every time he tripped or pushed her. She even looks for the new Malfoy she has seen, the scared confused Malfoy of the last couple of days. But he isn't there. Only hunger stares out of the wolfs eyes.
Then he leaps. Her body tenses for the feel of jaws around her throat while at the same time she instinctively flails, fingernails connecting with his chest and scraping across his pelt in a futile attempt to dislodge his weight which bears her down unto the mattress. His talons dig into her.
She kicks out. Hard. And miraculously one of her feet connects with his leg with a sickening crunching sound.
He howls in pain and his grip loosens enough for her to shove him to the side and break free. He limps after her, favoring his left leg.
She runs for the door mind screaming "HURRY HURRY HURRY...".
Tears cloud her eyes and her hands, palms slick with sweat, slide and fumble on the door knob. Finally she grasps it fully and pulls it open. But before she can step through to safety his taloned claw has shot passed her head pushing the door closed with a brute strength she could never hope to match.
He growls, baring his fangs in her face and then swipes his paw at her, flinging her easily across the room as if she is nothing more than a rag doll. She sails through the air and hits the floor hard, sliding across it until the back of her head connects against the bed post with a dull thud. The blow makes her vision fuzzy. Its odd but she doesn't feel any pain, the adrenaline is keeping it at bay for the time being.
She can feel the wet sticky drip of blood from her shoulder from where his talons swiped her. Everything is going foggy now, reality is slipping away from her like sand through the hourglass.
He steps closer towards her and into the moonlight. The moon shining on his fur makes it glow. He closes the gap between them. And right before the glow surrounds them both her last thought is how beautiful he looks.
-
-
-
The darkness is blinding. All encompassing.
Her head hurts, throbs with pain.
She blinks and there is light so bright the pain in her head intensifies tenfold. She quickly closes her eyes. After a moment the pain dulls down and she cracks her eyes open again, slowly. She is lying on the floor in the hallway outside of Malfoy's room.
Ron's face, all three of them, sway in front of her. "Hermione?.." he turns to someone behind her and slowly his faces blur into one, solidifying. "Harry she's come to."
"Ron? Harry? where...?..."
Harry moves to her other side and grasps her hand in his. "I'm right here Mione, I'm right here."
Ron takes her other hand. "Merlin Mione, you gave us a scare. For a moment we thought that..." He shakes his head and looks away from her like he can't bear to say the words out loud.
But she is fine. Truly. She is not dead, not even hurt really. She knows of course that she must be hurt or injured in some way but besides the splitting headache she feels nothing. What she can feel is the back of her shirt sticking to her skin with dried blood, from where Malfoy's claws, she shudders at this, dug across her back, and yet there is no pain.
Harry and Ron stare at her, taking in her shudder and no doubt interpreting it for pain. Their worried faces are almost comical and she, ever the assurer, hurries to tell them everything is all right.
"I'm fine. Really! I don't even feel any pain."
Ron shakes his head at this. "That's the numbing spell from Lupin. Should wear off in a couple hours than you'll be feeling it."
His hand grips hers hard, "I can't believe Malfoy did this to you." His face tightens again, this time in anger. Then he abruptly snorts. "No of course I can believe it. Its bloody Malfoy were taking about here. This was probably part of his plan all along, sneaking in here and waiting until your defenses were down to strike."
Now is is her turn to snort in disbelief. "Ron, you know that isn't true. Do you really think Malfoy, with all his pride in his pure blood, would let himself be cursed with lyrynthapy just to get to me? And you know, it wasn't him, not really. So it is hardly his fault now is it."
She doesn't know why, but she is compelled to defend him. The feeling is strange and alarming but not as alarming as her next urge. The urge to inquire after him and make sure he is alright. She glances across at the door to her left that is eerily silent. She wishes anything but silence. She wishes to hear him howling through the door, or even to hear a voice cursing him, and yet it is silent The silence makes her imagine him lying still, unmoving and breathless. For some reason, and she is not ready yet to examine that reason quite yet, the image of him thus terrifies her.
"What happened" she asks. And of course what she means is what happened to Malfoy, but she can hardly say those words.
"Malfoy happened thats what", Ron growls out. "Moody came straightaway after you flooed and heard a commotion upstairs. He said Malfoy was standing over you ready to... to...". He shakes his head violently and looks away from her.
Harry's voice, tired and sad sounding, pulls her attention. "I'm so sorry Mione". He releases her hand and looks away as well. "I'm sorry I ever asked you to look after him. This is all my fault".
She can't stand it. She can't stand that Ron is so angry, with that quiet deadly rage. She can't stand that Harry is taking the blame for this just as he takes the blame for everything.
"No!!!" She exclaims, forcefully drawing their attention back to her. "No" she repeats, "Harry this is not your fault, its not anyones fault not even Malfoy's..." Ron scoffs at this but she ignores it and continues on, "...this was an accident and no one should be blamed."
She can see her words do not reach them; they are lost in their own thoughts and conclusions. Harry's are thoughts of self pity, Ron's are of rage. She feels helpless and lost. Without them she is no longer part of a golden trio. She is just Hermione Granger. Muggle-born. Dismissible.
They help her off the floor, down the flight of stairs and into her room. After tucking her in and kissing her forehead dutifully they leave her to sleep. And sleep she does. It is a disturbed turbulent sleep.
-
-
-
She wakes suddenly, starting upright instantly, heart racing.
There is a pressing feeling of something approaching, something decisive and life altering. The taste of finality fills her mouth.
She pushes the covers off and slides out of bed. Her muscles protest loudly, the gouges across her back sore and throbbing. Lupin's numbing spell is wearing off and she is sorry for it. But there is something more important than her own discomfort.
She stumbles down the stairs and goes in search of... of what? She does not know. But she does know that it is happening and it is about to change everything. Voices drift from the dining room and she finds herself gliding nearer, as if in a dream. The door is half open and she can hear the voices inside. What they speak of terrifies her.
They talk of Malfoy, not as a person or even an enemy, but as an object; an obstacle in their path to be removed and destroyed. They talk of life and death casually. They speak of killing him as if it is nothing. They talk as if he is already dead.
She can't stand it.
Pushing the door aside she steps into the room violently, angry at the casual tone of their voices.
"Stop!"
At her angry voice all eyes turn to her; Ron, Harry, Moody and Lupin all sit around the table along with half a dozen others that she doesn't recognize.
"You can't do this, you can't talk of murdering Malfoy as if its the most common thing in the world. And yes I said murdering because that is what it would be!"
She is out of breathe with the force of her words, but she means everyone of them. She doesn't want Malfoy dead. Its wrong and against everything that the Order stands against but most of all she doesn't want him dead because she wants him alive. A few weeks ago she wanted him dead;she craved it with an intensity that was frightening. But now everything has changed. She needs him. She needs him alive.
Lupin greets her "Hermione woken up!" and purposely ignores her outburst, "how are you feeling?"
"No! no I won't be ignored. I am bloody okay alright? No one needs to die, not because of what happened, not over me."
Moody stands, his roving eye for once eerily still. "Granger this isn't about you this is about a threat to the Order that can no longer be ignored. He is a liability that we can not afford."
"You can't do this. If you take his life how are you, any of you, and different than them."
"His crimes cannot go unpunished."
"What crimes? Taking the mark? Letting death-eaters into the school? He was scared! He thought his family would die if he didn't! Shouldn't he receive our support as Dumbledore wanted us to give, or at the very least our pity?"
At the mention of Dumbledore the atmosphere in the room changes drastically and she knows. She knows that all her reasoning and begging will do nothing. They have already made up their minds.
She looks from face to face, searching for just a hint of understanding or empathy. "Ron...?"
He shakes his head forcefully, eyes dark and furious. "After what happened to your parents... fuck Hermione, you of all people should understand."
"Remus?" Surely he will side with her, she thinks, after all he knows first hand the painful effects of lyrynthapy.
But her former professor shook his head sadly, refusing to meet her eyes, "It would be better for him to di... it would be better. To be always feared and despised... it is not a life anyone would want."
Hermione resisted the urge to shake Lupin, to scream and yell at him until he understands that it should not be up to them to make that decision. Instead she turns to the only person there who is her last chance to save Malfoy.
She turns to Harry she pleads with him, begging "Please Harry you can't let them do this. He just a scared boy. Sure he tormented us at Hogwarts but he's just a scared boy. Scared and alone. He doesn't deserved to die. Please...!"
But Harry's face is hard and his voice is like steel. "He made his choice."
At his words her throat plummets to stomach. The feeling of hopelessness invades, suffocating.
"No... no! I won't be a part of this!!!"
"No one here is asking you girl" Moody grumbles, his mechanical eye whirling furiously in its socket.
And just like that she is effectively shut out. She stands there, surrounded by friends and allies, and yet she has never felt so alone.
And as she turns to leave they don't even look up. She has ceased to exist for them. They are too absorbed with the how and what of it. "Perhaps an efficient potion to off him " Ron suggest, "Or simply an Avada Kedavra" Harry counters. The words follow her out of the room and burn her ears. She is shaking as she climbs the stairs and enters her room but her hands are steady as she begins to pack.
She grabs her dad's old army duffle bag from the back of the closet. Inside are a kaki pair of cargos and his favorite red flannel plaid shirt, all that is left of him. She lays his clothes out on the bed than begins to fill up the bag. She takes her gun from beneath her pillow and places it inside then proceeds to throw in the rest of her things. Mind whirling, she hardly knows what she puts inside.
She climbs the flight of stairs between them and all to soon she is standing outside his door. She takes one deep, fortifying breath and pushes it open.
He sits up, starting at her entrance. She ignores the way the blanket slides off his bare chest and walks towards him briskly, closing the distance between them.
For a moment there is a twinge of fear. She has yet to forget the sight of his alter egos teeth aimed at her throat. Then there is, of course, the sting of the welts on her back to remind her of the length of his claws. But she firmly squelches the fear. There isn't time to be afraid. There is too much to do.
She throws the duffle bag on the bed between them. He watches, waiting. Silent.
She ignores his silence and reluctantly holds out her fathers clothes to him. "Put these on."
When the door opened hers was the last face he thought he would see. Though the memory was hazy he could still feel the bloodlust tighten his throat and his fangs snapping at her pulse. He was ashamed and sickened. Most of all though, and he hated to admit it, worried. Worried sick that he had hurt her in an irreversible way. Hell, the weaslybee and potter certainly had acted as if he had.
And yet there she was, strolling into his room and up to his bed, up to him, as if last night had never happened between the too of them. Bloody Gryfyindor courage.
He ignores the clothes and blankly stares at her.
Hermione sighs in frustration. There is no time for this. They need to go. Now.
"Put the clothes on Malfoy" she repeats, "we need to leave".
He still ignores the clothes and ignores the way his stomach flutters at the way she said 'we'.
"Your leaving?" he asks.
"We're leaving"
And there it is again. The 'we'. His traitorous heart soars at the mention of her and him, of them. Even so the years of his upbringing spring back to him, painting a sneer easily across his face.
"Why would I go anywhere with the likes of you?"
But she ignores his blatant attempt to get a rise out of her. There isn't time for them to do this, to play this game. The game where they argue and sneer and insult each other. She almost wishes that there was time for her to hit him with a snide comeback, for them to dance verbally. It is a game that she knows and in the knowing there is the kind of comfort that accompanies the familiar.
But what they are about to do, leaving this safe house out into the unknown, it terrifies her. But not as much as his execution terrifies her. So she ignores his hurtful words and shoves the clothes onto the bed between them.
"Come on Malfoy, you need to put these on."
"Why?"
"Malfoy NOW!" She is vibrating with anger.
He senses it. "Whats happened?"
She shudders running her hand through her sleep tossed curls. "Their going to kill you." There she has said it. She watches him closely for his reaction. It is not what she had expected.
He half shrugs his shoulders as if to say 'thats all?' and stares down at the red plaid pile between them. So quietly she almost misses it he says under his breath, "Yeah I thought they might."
It infuriates her that she is fighting so hard for his life and he doesn't care. He doesn't give a damn about his own life.
"What is your problem!?!" She is fairly yelling now and something in her voice makes him meet her eyes and sit up straighter. "I tell you their going to KILL you and thats it, thats all your going to say!?! Where is the self-preserving Slytherin that I know?."
He watches her through the tirade uterly spellbound. He is in awe of her in that moment. She is in all of her S.P.E.W. crusading glory.
"no..." She says underneath her breath.
Then she orders him with a tone that even the purest and oldest of pureblood nobility would be proud of.
"Get up Malfoy."
And he does. Catching the falling blanket around his naked hips just in time. She almost whines in disappointment. Wait... what? No Hermione, she tells herself, stay focused at the task at hand.
"Put these on" she demands pointing at the clothes. He picks them up looking at her pointedly. She looks back just as evenly. There is no way she will turn her back on him despite the new understanding between them. He's a Malfoy after all and she isn't called the smartest witch of her generation for nothing.
So she watches as blushing he wraps the blanket around his waist and slides the worn plaid over his head. When it comes time for the pants he turn his back and slips them on under the blanket which slides off just enough for her to glimpse his very delectably although very pale bum. He moves slowly and stiffly and she sees the awkward twisted angle of his leg and remembers her swift desperate kick the night before and the sickening crunch that followed. But there is no time to worry about his leg when his neck is on the line. Finally finished he turns to face her.
"Why are you doing this? Why are you helping me?" he asks.
She could lie to him. It would be easy enough. But if they are going to do this; go on the run together, than she owes him an honest explanation. This strange new partnership they are about to be a part of will never work if it starts based on a lie.
"I won't... I won't stand by and let them kill. I'm sick of death. Thats all this war ever brought. And I know that some day in the future people will look back and remember this war because it changed the course of wizard history. They will forget all the blood and pain and death. But I won't. I won't ever forget. Its all I can see. and I didn't... I don't want your death to be the same."
She hates that her voice cracks at the end. She hates how weak and broken she sounds. But she supposes that is what she is, something broken and weak. Porcelain cracked against the pavement. She expects him to laugh, to sneer, to rub her moment of weakness back in her face.
He surprises her. He does none of those things. "If you do this Granger" he says, "if you do this the Order won't let you come back."
It shocks her that he should care almost as much as it shocks himself. And he does care. He finds he cares all to much that Granger is ready to leave the Order and the safety of this house for him. The beast whispers that he should use her, accept what she offers with no protest. But he finds he can't without saying something of what she is giving up for him.
"You don't need to do this Granger."
She seems to know what he means even if he doesn't.
"I'm not doing this for you Malfoy. This is for me. I can't... I don't want your death. And anyways I haven't been a part of the Order for a while now, not really."
He wants to ask her what she means but she moves closer towards him and he finds the words refuse to come.
She picks up the duffle bag and throws it over her shoulder winching as it rubs against her aching wounds.
"Come with me if you want to live."
He nods once and so minutely she would have missed it if she wasn't looking straight at him. It is enough though.
She spells them both with a disillusionment charm and they sneak as silently as possible down the two flights of stairs. The front door creaks horribly as she is certain they will be caught but they cross over outside without a hitch.
For a moment they stand there and she looks up and down the dingy poorly lit street. She knows it is a good mile on foot to King's Cross and with Malfoy's injured leg and the growing pain of the wounds on her back she knows there is no way they can make it there on foot. She is hesitant to apparate since the Order might be able to track her spell and find them but she sees no other viable option.
Grasping her wand tight she holds out her other hand to him.
"Take my hand."
He stares at her outstretched hand and for and long instant she thinks that he isn't going to take it. The moment passes. He takes her hand.
She apparates them directly to Kings Cross, the muggle King's Cross, leaving the Order headquarters behind. Not once does she look back.
The station is deserted this late at night. The man behind the ticket counter has to be waken to sell them their tickets and she is relieved that she won't have to obliviate him.
Malfoy watches with pretend disinterest but she can see through it and sees that he is in reality awed by his muggle surroundings. She wonders if this is his first time in the muggle world. His fingers feel cool and oddly comforting around hers. He has yet to let go of her hand since they apparated here. But she doesn't say anything. She quite likes having a hand to hold and she doesn't mind in the least that it happens to be his hand.
But as soon as she realizes this, he realizes their intertwined hands and hastily retracts his with first a blush then with a forced scowl. She almost laughs at his transparency. She counts out all the money she has, it isn't much, and stares blankly at the man behind the counter as he asks "Where to miss?".
She hadn't thought of where they would go. In all of her planning it had never occurred to her that their journey would have a final destination. There wasn't enough time to think that far ahead there was only the pressing urgency to leave. But then the answer comes to her with a calming clarity that feels right.
She pays for their tickets and walks over to sit on the bench and wait for the train to come. He sits next to her, his shoulder brushing hers.
"Where are we going?" he asks.
She takes his hand.
"Home".
He holds her hand until they board the train.
-
-
-
The train compartment is small and smells like sweaty socks. There is a suspicious stain on the edge of her seat that looks like it was once urine. The windows are so smudged and streaked that it is almost impossible to see anything. Which means that she only has her companion to look at.
Malfoy sits across from her a horrified look plastered on his face. She would laugh at his expression if she wasn't so sure her face wore something similar.
The silence stretches on between them. Normally she would enjoy the chance to reflect on all that has happened and that might happen in the near future. But the silence is unsettling. She wants him to say something, anything at all.
"These clothes are hideous Granger. What bin did you pull this monstrosity out of?"
Ok. Anything but that. But whatever, she tells herself, she'll be the bigger person here and act the mature adult since he is so determined to be a total git.
"They were my dad's."
"Merlin's balls Granger! You have me wearing the filthy clothing of your idiotic muggle father"
She stands and has her wand drawn and pointed between his eyes so fast he doesn't even have time to looked surprised.
"Don't... don't...." She is so suddenly and completely angry that she is sputtering. Finally she finds the words and can hardly stop the angry stream even if she wanted to, which she doesn't.
"Don't fucking talk about him. Don't ever fucking talk about him!" Each angry syllable is accompanied by the forceful jab of her wand to his chest. She doesn't just say it she screams it at him.
He stares up at her like she's crazy and she thinks he must be right because she then unloads everything on him, her whole fucked up sob story. She screams it at him.
"You don't have the right... you're one of them! A fucking deatheater. The same as the cowards who murdered my parents!"
He stares up at her with something like disbelief mixed with fear. "No! that wasn't me. I wouldn't... wait, what?" His fingers clench his arm, right where his mark is. He shakes his head, mouth agape.
"Your one of them! the sick bastards who destroyed everything, killed everything I loved most. You ruined me!!!"
He shakes his head again, confused, "wait... wait... when did this happen?"
It throws her off. Off of her rant and her rage and she sputters to a stop. Now she is the one who wears confusion across her face. "What?"
"What day was it?", his voice is strangely urgent, frantic even, "when did it happen... what day Granger?!?"
She doesn't understand.
"I... it was months ago. Mum had made french toast for dinner. She loves breakfast food. I helped her make the batter. Dad wanted me to show him how to add songs to his I-pod but I told him I wanted to finish my book instead..."
Her voice has grown shaky and sad with remembering. It feels so good to remember, to feel sad, after so long of pushing those feelings down. It feels so good to unload. To feel. And caught up in feeling she can almost forget it is Malfoy she is breaking down in front of. Almost.
"What day Granger?"
She shakes her head, lost in memories. "...If I had know it was the last time we would have together I wouldn't have... I wish..."
"Please Granger! what was the date!?!"
It is the 'please', a word she never thought she'd hear out of Malfoy's lips, that shakes her from her reminiscent trance. She looks at him then, really looks. She reads the desperation in his eyes and it pulls the answer from her... "the 22nd."
"No...", he's grown impossibly more pale at her words and is staring at her as if she is a ghost, "...that was you?"
"What? what do you mean?" Now it is her turn to ask the questions.
He looks away avoiding her eyes. "Nothing... never mind."
"No I want to know. What do you mean 'that was you'?"
"Forget it Granger. Let it be."
He knows something, something about what happened to her family that night. She might have been content in the past to let his words slid by but this is the present and she has changed. There was once a time when she had never cast an unforgivable as well. But she was older and harder and much more jaded. She digs her wand into his broken thigh, leaning across his lap until they are nose to nose.
"Tell me."
He grunts in pain and tries to squirm backwards out of her reach. But his back is already against the wall.
"TELL ME!"
"Okay, okay. Just please..."
She lifts her wand off his leg and waits to hear what he has to say.
"I told you that I went on the run after Dumbledore... after I let the deatheaters into hogwarts."
She nods.
"Well at the beginning I wasn't on my own. Well I was but I kept in contact with someone."
"Who?"
"Snape. He was the one who helped me run, gave me muggle money and, at first, fed me information."
"But Snape is...?"
"Yeah I know, he's with the Order. He told me a few days after that night. He told me how Dumbledore came to him with an offer similar to the one he gave to me. Only Snape took it. Which is why I think he risked so much to help me. He let me know how my family was doing and what was happening in the Wizarding world and then..."
He hesitates, eyes shifting to look anywhere but at her.
"Then what?...Malfoy tell me."
"He told me about about an the next raid that was planned. He told me the targets were a muggle-born and their muggle family. Then he gave me one of your mirror communicators so I could send a warning directly to the Order's headquarters. The Dark Lord was beginning to suspect him of duplicity and he could not be the one to send the message. He said that it was my choice, my decision, and that he wouldn't think less of me if I choice not to send it because it just might mean my own capture and death."
It suddenly clicks. The attack. Her parents death, her almost death. The mystery warning from a unknown source. It all fits. She can't believe it and she can't stop looking at him like she has never seen him before.
"At first I wasn't going to do anything. I had been on my own for so long and evaded detection and I didn't want to jeopardize that. I was so scared of everything; scared of every little shadow, even my own. But I kept thinking about the muggleborn they had targeted and I kept seeing your face and I couldn't... couldn't..." He laughs, short and bitter.
His eyes meet hers and she is stunned. Stunned that she is where she is and he is where he is and that this is really happening.
"I couldn't knowingly do nothing, no matter how much I wanted too."
She stares at him, completely and utterly at a loss for words. She whispers to him in stark disbelief,"...You saved my life."
He shakes his head at this. "I didn't know that it was you."
"Still..." she reaches out and touches his shoulder, "Malfoy you saved me."
He shrugs off her hand, agitated and angry for some unimaginable reason.
"No you don't understand." He laughs again, the same short bitter laugh from before. "I absolutely hated you in school. I wanted you dead!"
"I know." She says softly and matter-a-factly. Because she does. It seems not so long ago that she hated him herself.
"No!..." He jumps up, towering above her. "...you don't know."
She feels small looking up at him and there is something in his face that makes her just a little bit afraid. Somehow, somewhere in this surreal conversation the power between them has shifted from her to him. The tiny train compartment seems much to small to hold all the volatile emotions flying between them.
"You understand nothing." His voice is fierce and determined. "Your beneath me. Your crude and dirty and filthy and everything that I was taught to hate. Your a mudblood!"
She recoils at the hateful words and when he advances on her she takes a step back for every step he takes forward.
"I hate you because your blood runs muddy in your veins. I hate you because your not supposed to exist. Your an anomaly, the exception to the rule. And I hate that you use magic just as freely and easily as me. But most of all I hate you because you made me want you. You made me want something that is beneath me, something that I was taught all my life that is crude and filthy, a mudblood."
She doesn't understand. She made him want her?
"Only your not, they lied to me, your not any of those things. You bleed just as red as I do. And I've always known that but I refused to believe it because it would change everything. It would make everything I am, my whole world, wrong. It would mean that I'm not any more special or higher evolved than you. I didn't want to have to change how I felt, or even be forced to come face to face with the fact that I have changed how I feel. But I couldn't ignore that everything had changed because you were always there to remind me. You were always there with you frizzy hair and know-it-all ways and muddy blood to make me see that you were just as good, even better than me; and I hate you for that." He repeats hopelessly..."I hate you." But there is no anger in his voice or any real heat in the words.
Her back is against the wall now and his face is inches away from hers and she can feel his breath wash over her face with each word. His eyes flutter close at the last words and when they open again she is suddenly and inexplicably afraid.
Then he does something unimaginable.
He reaches out and grabs her by the arms and presses her back into the wall of the tiny train compartment and then...
...then he is kissing her.
-
-
-
Next up: A fever means very honest conversation and post-coital anxiety. It also means an emergency stop at an old friend's house.
Preview Chapter 12: As she watch horrified his eyes roll back in his head and with a small exhale he lays deathly still.
"No!!! Malfoy? Malfoy!!!..." she screams his name, shaking him back and forth. But is is unresponding, his head lolling to the side on a limp neck.
"MALFOY!!!" she is near tears and desperate; all to aware that they are alone and completely isolated from anyone who could help.
I had posted this to fanfiction previously under the same user name and that where it will be updated first. I would love it if you guys would review/alert my story there...
Pairing: Hermione/Draco
Rating: PG13
Summary: A Draco goes to the Order's headquarters/werewolf fic.
Disclaimer: If Harry Potter belonged to me Tom Felton would have had much more than a couple lousy minutes in Half Blood Prince. In fact I would change 'Harry Potter' to 'Draco Malfoy'. Because bad guys are more interesting. If only...
AN: An extra long chapter ripe with lemons.
-
-
-
Apart
excluded from consideration; away from one another in space or time
"Black Swan" Thom York
What will grow quickly you can't make straight
It's the price you gotta pay
Do yourself a favor and pack you bags
Buy a ticket and get on the train
Cause this is fucked up, fucked up
People get crushed like biscuit crumbs
And laid down in the bed you made
You have tried your best to please everyone
But it just isn't happening
No, it just isn't happening
And it's fucked up, fucked up
And this is fucked up, fucked up
This your blind spot, blind spot
It should be obvious, but it's not.
But it isn't, but it isn't
You cannot kick start a dead horse
You just crush yourself and walk away
I don't care what the future holds
Cause I'm right here and I'm today
With your fingers you can touch me
-
-
-
Previously
She thrusts out both hands at him in a desperate attempt to halt his advance. "Malfoy?" She says desperately looking for some sign that he is still in there. His eyes are feral, devoid of any kind of human emotion. "Malfoy stop."
She searches the gray depths for him. For the Malfoy that sneered at her and called her Mudblood so many times. For the Malfoy that taunted her with laughter after his curse made her teeth grow past her chin. For the Malfoy that glared at her with black hate every time he tripped or pushed her. She even looks for the new Malfoy she has seen, the scared confused Malfoy of the last couple of days. But he isn't there. Only hunger stares out of the wolfs eyes.
Then he leaps. Her body tenses for the feel of jaws around her throat while at the same time she instinctively flails, fingernails connecting with his chest and scraping across his pelt in a futile attempt to dislodge his weight which bears her down unto the mattress. His talons dig into her.
She kicks out. Hard. And miraculously one of her feet connects with his leg with a sickening crunching sound.
He howls in pain and his grip loosens enough for her to shove him to the side and break free. He limps after her, favoring his left leg.
She runs for the door mind screaming "HURRY HURRY HURRY...".
Tears cloud her eyes and her hands, palms slick with sweat, slide and fumble on the door knob. Finally she grasps it fully and pulls it open. But before she can step through to safety his taloned claw has shot passed her head pushing the door closed with a brute strength she could never hope to match.
He growls, baring his fangs in her face and then swipes his paw at her, flinging her easily across the room as if she is nothing more than a rag doll. She sails through the air and hits the floor hard, sliding across it until the back of her head connects against the bed post with a dull thud. The blow makes her vision fuzzy. Its odd but she doesn't feel any pain, the adrenaline is keeping it at bay for the time being.
She can feel the wet sticky drip of blood from her shoulder from where his talons swiped her. Everything is going foggy now, reality is slipping away from her like sand through the hourglass.
He steps closer towards her and into the moonlight. The moon shining on his fur makes it glow. He closes the gap between them. And right before the glow surrounds them both her last thought is how beautiful he looks.
-
-
-
The darkness is blinding. All encompassing.
Her head hurts, throbs with pain.
She blinks and there is light so bright the pain in her head intensifies tenfold. She quickly closes her eyes. After a moment the pain dulls down and she cracks her eyes open again, slowly. She is lying on the floor in the hallway outside of Malfoy's room.
Ron's face, all three of them, sway in front of her. "Hermione?.." he turns to someone behind her and slowly his faces blur into one, solidifying. "Harry she's come to."
"Ron? Harry? where...?..."
Harry moves to her other side and grasps her hand in his. "I'm right here Mione, I'm right here."
Ron takes her other hand. "Merlin Mione, you gave us a scare. For a moment we thought that..." He shakes his head and looks away from her like he can't bear to say the words out loud.
But she is fine. Truly. She is not dead, not even hurt really. She knows of course that she must be hurt or injured in some way but besides the splitting headache she feels nothing. What she can feel is the back of her shirt sticking to her skin with dried blood, from where Malfoy's claws, she shudders at this, dug across her back, and yet there is no pain.
Harry and Ron stare at her, taking in her shudder and no doubt interpreting it for pain. Their worried faces are almost comical and she, ever the assurer, hurries to tell them everything is all right.
"I'm fine. Really! I don't even feel any pain."
Ron shakes his head at this. "That's the numbing spell from Lupin. Should wear off in a couple hours than you'll be feeling it."
His hand grips hers hard, "I can't believe Malfoy did this to you." His face tightens again, this time in anger. Then he abruptly snorts. "No of course I can believe it. Its bloody Malfoy were taking about here. This was probably part of his plan all along, sneaking in here and waiting until your defenses were down to strike."
Now is is her turn to snort in disbelief. "Ron, you know that isn't true. Do you really think Malfoy, with all his pride in his pure blood, would let himself be cursed with lyrynthapy just to get to me? And you know, it wasn't him, not really. So it is hardly his fault now is it."
She doesn't know why, but she is compelled to defend him. The feeling is strange and alarming but not as alarming as her next urge. The urge to inquire after him and make sure he is alright. She glances across at the door to her left that is eerily silent. She wishes anything but silence. She wishes to hear him howling through the door, or even to hear a voice cursing him, and yet it is silent The silence makes her imagine him lying still, unmoving and breathless. For some reason, and she is not ready yet to examine that reason quite yet, the image of him thus terrifies her.
"What happened" she asks. And of course what she means is what happened to Malfoy, but she can hardly say those words.
"Malfoy happened thats what", Ron growls out. "Moody came straightaway after you flooed and heard a commotion upstairs. He said Malfoy was standing over you ready to... to...". He shakes his head violently and looks away from her.
Harry's voice, tired and sad sounding, pulls her attention. "I'm so sorry Mione". He releases her hand and looks away as well. "I'm sorry I ever asked you to look after him. This is all my fault".
She can't stand it. She can't stand that Ron is so angry, with that quiet deadly rage. She can't stand that Harry is taking the blame for this just as he takes the blame for everything.
"No!!!" She exclaims, forcefully drawing their attention back to her. "No" she repeats, "Harry this is not your fault, its not anyones fault not even Malfoy's..." Ron scoffs at this but she ignores it and continues on, "...this was an accident and no one should be blamed."
She can see her words do not reach them; they are lost in their own thoughts and conclusions. Harry's are thoughts of self pity, Ron's are of rage. She feels helpless and lost. Without them she is no longer part of a golden trio. She is just Hermione Granger. Muggle-born. Dismissible.
They help her off the floor, down the flight of stairs and into her room. After tucking her in and kissing her forehead dutifully they leave her to sleep. And sleep she does. It is a disturbed turbulent sleep.
-
-
-
She wakes suddenly, starting upright instantly, heart racing.
There is a pressing feeling of something approaching, something decisive and life altering. The taste of finality fills her mouth.
She pushes the covers off and slides out of bed. Her muscles protest loudly, the gouges across her back sore and throbbing. Lupin's numbing spell is wearing off and she is sorry for it. But there is something more important than her own discomfort.
She stumbles down the stairs and goes in search of... of what? She does not know. But she does know that it is happening and it is about to change everything. Voices drift from the dining room and she finds herself gliding nearer, as if in a dream. The door is half open and she can hear the voices inside. What they speak of terrifies her.
They talk of Malfoy, not as a person or even an enemy, but as an object; an obstacle in their path to be removed and destroyed. They talk of life and death casually. They speak of killing him as if it is nothing. They talk as if he is already dead.
She can't stand it.
Pushing the door aside she steps into the room violently, angry at the casual tone of their voices.
"Stop!"
At her angry voice all eyes turn to her; Ron, Harry, Moody and Lupin all sit around the table along with half a dozen others that she doesn't recognize.
"You can't do this, you can't talk of murdering Malfoy as if its the most common thing in the world. And yes I said murdering because that is what it would be!"
She is out of breathe with the force of her words, but she means everyone of them. She doesn't want Malfoy dead. Its wrong and against everything that the Order stands against but most of all she doesn't want him dead because she wants him alive. A few weeks ago she wanted him dead;she craved it with an intensity that was frightening. But now everything has changed. She needs him. She needs him alive.
Lupin greets her "Hermione woken up!" and purposely ignores her outburst, "how are you feeling?"
"No! no I won't be ignored. I am bloody okay alright? No one needs to die, not because of what happened, not over me."
Moody stands, his roving eye for once eerily still. "Granger this isn't about you this is about a threat to the Order that can no longer be ignored. He is a liability that we can not afford."
"You can't do this. If you take his life how are you, any of you, and different than them."
"His crimes cannot go unpunished."
"What crimes? Taking the mark? Letting death-eaters into the school? He was scared! He thought his family would die if he didn't! Shouldn't he receive our support as Dumbledore wanted us to give, or at the very least our pity?"
At the mention of Dumbledore the atmosphere in the room changes drastically and she knows. She knows that all her reasoning and begging will do nothing. They have already made up their minds.
She looks from face to face, searching for just a hint of understanding or empathy. "Ron...?"
He shakes his head forcefully, eyes dark and furious. "After what happened to your parents... fuck Hermione, you of all people should understand."
"Remus?" Surely he will side with her, she thinks, after all he knows first hand the painful effects of lyrynthapy.
But her former professor shook his head sadly, refusing to meet her eyes, "It would be better for him to di... it would be better. To be always feared and despised... it is not a life anyone would want."
Hermione resisted the urge to shake Lupin, to scream and yell at him until he understands that it should not be up to them to make that decision. Instead she turns to the only person there who is her last chance to save Malfoy.
She turns to Harry she pleads with him, begging "Please Harry you can't let them do this. He just a scared boy. Sure he tormented us at Hogwarts but he's just a scared boy. Scared and alone. He doesn't deserved to die. Please...!"
But Harry's face is hard and his voice is like steel. "He made his choice."
At his words her throat plummets to stomach. The feeling of hopelessness invades, suffocating.
"No... no! I won't be a part of this!!!"
"No one here is asking you girl" Moody grumbles, his mechanical eye whirling furiously in its socket.
And just like that she is effectively shut out. She stands there, surrounded by friends and allies, and yet she has never felt so alone.
And as she turns to leave they don't even look up. She has ceased to exist for them. They are too absorbed with the how and what of it. "Perhaps an efficient potion to off him " Ron suggest, "Or simply an Avada Kedavra" Harry counters. The words follow her out of the room and burn her ears. She is shaking as she climbs the stairs and enters her room but her hands are steady as she begins to pack.
She grabs her dad's old army duffle bag from the back of the closet. Inside are a kaki pair of cargos and his favorite red flannel plaid shirt, all that is left of him. She lays his clothes out on the bed than begins to fill up the bag. She takes her gun from beneath her pillow and places it inside then proceeds to throw in the rest of her things. Mind whirling, she hardly knows what she puts inside.
She climbs the flight of stairs between them and all to soon she is standing outside his door. She takes one deep, fortifying breath and pushes it open.
He sits up, starting at her entrance. She ignores the way the blanket slides off his bare chest and walks towards him briskly, closing the distance between them.
For a moment there is a twinge of fear. She has yet to forget the sight of his alter egos teeth aimed at her throat. Then there is, of course, the sting of the welts on her back to remind her of the length of his claws. But she firmly squelches the fear. There isn't time to be afraid. There is too much to do.
She throws the duffle bag on the bed between them. He watches, waiting. Silent.
She ignores his silence and reluctantly holds out her fathers clothes to him. "Put these on."
When the door opened hers was the last face he thought he would see. Though the memory was hazy he could still feel the bloodlust tighten his throat and his fangs snapping at her pulse. He was ashamed and sickened. Most of all though, and he hated to admit it, worried. Worried sick that he had hurt her in an irreversible way. Hell, the weaslybee and potter certainly had acted as if he had.
And yet there she was, strolling into his room and up to his bed, up to him, as if last night had never happened between the too of them. Bloody Gryfyindor courage.
He ignores the clothes and blankly stares at her.
Hermione sighs in frustration. There is no time for this. They need to go. Now.
"Put the clothes on Malfoy" she repeats, "we need to leave".
He still ignores the clothes and ignores the way his stomach flutters at the way she said 'we'.
"Your leaving?" he asks.
"We're leaving"
And there it is again. The 'we'. His traitorous heart soars at the mention of her and him, of them. Even so the years of his upbringing spring back to him, painting a sneer easily across his face.
"Why would I go anywhere with the likes of you?"
But she ignores his blatant attempt to get a rise out of her. There isn't time for them to do this, to play this game. The game where they argue and sneer and insult each other. She almost wishes that there was time for her to hit him with a snide comeback, for them to dance verbally. It is a game that she knows and in the knowing there is the kind of comfort that accompanies the familiar.
But what they are about to do, leaving this safe house out into the unknown, it terrifies her. But not as much as his execution terrifies her. So she ignores his hurtful words and shoves the clothes onto the bed between them.
"Come on Malfoy, you need to put these on."
"Why?"
"Malfoy NOW!" She is vibrating with anger.
He senses it. "Whats happened?"
She shudders running her hand through her sleep tossed curls. "Their going to kill you." There she has said it. She watches him closely for his reaction. It is not what she had expected.
He half shrugs his shoulders as if to say 'thats all?' and stares down at the red plaid pile between them. So quietly she almost misses it he says under his breath, "Yeah I thought they might."
It infuriates her that she is fighting so hard for his life and he doesn't care. He doesn't give a damn about his own life.
"What is your problem!?!" She is fairly yelling now and something in her voice makes him meet her eyes and sit up straighter. "I tell you their going to KILL you and thats it, thats all your going to say!?! Where is the self-preserving Slytherin that I know?."
He watches her through the tirade uterly spellbound. He is in awe of her in that moment. She is in all of her S.P.E.W. crusading glory.
"no..." She says underneath her breath.
Then she orders him with a tone that even the purest and oldest of pureblood nobility would be proud of.
"Get up Malfoy."
And he does. Catching the falling blanket around his naked hips just in time. She almost whines in disappointment. Wait... what? No Hermione, she tells herself, stay focused at the task at hand.
"Put these on" she demands pointing at the clothes. He picks them up looking at her pointedly. She looks back just as evenly. There is no way she will turn her back on him despite the new understanding between them. He's a Malfoy after all and she isn't called the smartest witch of her generation for nothing.
So she watches as blushing he wraps the blanket around his waist and slides the worn plaid over his head. When it comes time for the pants he turn his back and slips them on under the blanket which slides off just enough for her to glimpse his very delectably although very pale bum. He moves slowly and stiffly and she sees the awkward twisted angle of his leg and remembers her swift desperate kick the night before and the sickening crunch that followed. But there is no time to worry about his leg when his neck is on the line. Finally finished he turns to face her.
"Why are you doing this? Why are you helping me?" he asks.
She could lie to him. It would be easy enough. But if they are going to do this; go on the run together, than she owes him an honest explanation. This strange new partnership they are about to be a part of will never work if it starts based on a lie.
"I won't... I won't stand by and let them kill. I'm sick of death. Thats all this war ever brought. And I know that some day in the future people will look back and remember this war because it changed the course of wizard history. They will forget all the blood and pain and death. But I won't. I won't ever forget. Its all I can see. and I didn't... I don't want your death to be the same."
She hates that her voice cracks at the end. She hates how weak and broken she sounds. But she supposes that is what she is, something broken and weak. Porcelain cracked against the pavement. She expects him to laugh, to sneer, to rub her moment of weakness back in her face.
He surprises her. He does none of those things. "If you do this Granger" he says, "if you do this the Order won't let you come back."
It shocks her that he should care almost as much as it shocks himself. And he does care. He finds he cares all to much that Granger is ready to leave the Order and the safety of this house for him. The beast whispers that he should use her, accept what she offers with no protest. But he finds he can't without saying something of what she is giving up for him.
"You don't need to do this Granger."
She seems to know what he means even if he doesn't.
"I'm not doing this for you Malfoy. This is for me. I can't... I don't want your death. And anyways I haven't been a part of the Order for a while now, not really."
He wants to ask her what she means but she moves closer towards him and he finds the words refuse to come.
She picks up the duffle bag and throws it over her shoulder winching as it rubs against her aching wounds.
"Come with me if you want to live."
He nods once and so minutely she would have missed it if she wasn't looking straight at him. It is enough though.
She spells them both with a disillusionment charm and they sneak as silently as possible down the two flights of stairs. The front door creaks horribly as she is certain they will be caught but they cross over outside without a hitch.
For a moment they stand there and she looks up and down the dingy poorly lit street. She knows it is a good mile on foot to King's Cross and with Malfoy's injured leg and the growing pain of the wounds on her back she knows there is no way they can make it there on foot. She is hesitant to apparate since the Order might be able to track her spell and find them but she sees no other viable option.
Grasping her wand tight she holds out her other hand to him.
"Take my hand."
He stares at her outstretched hand and for and long instant she thinks that he isn't going to take it. The moment passes. He takes her hand.
She apparates them directly to Kings Cross, the muggle King's Cross, leaving the Order headquarters behind. Not once does she look back.
The station is deserted this late at night. The man behind the ticket counter has to be waken to sell them their tickets and she is relieved that she won't have to obliviate him.
Malfoy watches with pretend disinterest but she can see through it and sees that he is in reality awed by his muggle surroundings. She wonders if this is his first time in the muggle world. His fingers feel cool and oddly comforting around hers. He has yet to let go of her hand since they apparated here. But she doesn't say anything. She quite likes having a hand to hold and she doesn't mind in the least that it happens to be his hand.
But as soon as she realizes this, he realizes their intertwined hands and hastily retracts his with first a blush then with a forced scowl. She almost laughs at his transparency. She counts out all the money she has, it isn't much, and stares blankly at the man behind the counter as he asks "Where to miss?".
She hadn't thought of where they would go. In all of her planning it had never occurred to her that their journey would have a final destination. There wasn't enough time to think that far ahead there was only the pressing urgency to leave. But then the answer comes to her with a calming clarity that feels right.
She pays for their tickets and walks over to sit on the bench and wait for the train to come. He sits next to her, his shoulder brushing hers.
"Where are we going?" he asks.
She takes his hand.
"Home".
He holds her hand until they board the train.
-
-
-
The train compartment is small and smells like sweaty socks. There is a suspicious stain on the edge of her seat that looks like it was once urine. The windows are so smudged and streaked that it is almost impossible to see anything. Which means that she only has her companion to look at.
Malfoy sits across from her a horrified look plastered on his face. She would laugh at his expression if she wasn't so sure her face wore something similar.
The silence stretches on between them. Normally she would enjoy the chance to reflect on all that has happened and that might happen in the near future. But the silence is unsettling. She wants him to say something, anything at all.
"These clothes are hideous Granger. What bin did you pull this monstrosity out of?"
Ok. Anything but that. But whatever, she tells herself, she'll be the bigger person here and act the mature adult since he is so determined to be a total git.
"They were my dad's."
"Merlin's balls Granger! You have me wearing the filthy clothing of your idiotic muggle father"
She stands and has her wand drawn and pointed between his eyes so fast he doesn't even have time to looked surprised.
"Don't... don't...." She is so suddenly and completely angry that she is sputtering. Finally she finds the words and can hardly stop the angry stream even if she wanted to, which she doesn't.
"Don't fucking talk about him. Don't ever fucking talk about him!" Each angry syllable is accompanied by the forceful jab of her wand to his chest. She doesn't just say it she screams it at him.
He stares up at her like she's crazy and she thinks he must be right because she then unloads everything on him, her whole fucked up sob story. She screams it at him.
"You don't have the right... you're one of them! A fucking deatheater. The same as the cowards who murdered my parents!"
He stares up at her with something like disbelief mixed with fear. "No! that wasn't me. I wouldn't... wait, what?" His fingers clench his arm, right where his mark is. He shakes his head, mouth agape.
"Your one of them! the sick bastards who destroyed everything, killed everything I loved most. You ruined me!!!"
He shakes his head again, confused, "wait... wait... when did this happen?"
It throws her off. Off of her rant and her rage and she sputters to a stop. Now she is the one who wears confusion across her face. "What?"
"What day was it?", his voice is strangely urgent, frantic even, "when did it happen... what day Granger?!?"
She doesn't understand.
"I... it was months ago. Mum had made french toast for dinner. She loves breakfast food. I helped her make the batter. Dad wanted me to show him how to add songs to his I-pod but I told him I wanted to finish my book instead..."
Her voice has grown shaky and sad with remembering. It feels so good to remember, to feel sad, after so long of pushing those feelings down. It feels so good to unload. To feel. And caught up in feeling she can almost forget it is Malfoy she is breaking down in front of. Almost.
"What day Granger?"
She shakes her head, lost in memories. "...If I had know it was the last time we would have together I wouldn't have... I wish..."
"Please Granger! what was the date!?!"
It is the 'please', a word she never thought she'd hear out of Malfoy's lips, that shakes her from her reminiscent trance. She looks at him then, really looks. She reads the desperation in his eyes and it pulls the answer from her... "the 22nd."
"No...", he's grown impossibly more pale at her words and is staring at her as if she is a ghost, "...that was you?"
"What? what do you mean?" Now it is her turn to ask the questions.
He looks away avoiding her eyes. "Nothing... never mind."
"No I want to know. What do you mean 'that was you'?"
"Forget it Granger. Let it be."
He knows something, something about what happened to her family that night. She might have been content in the past to let his words slid by but this is the present and she has changed. There was once a time when she had never cast an unforgivable as well. But she was older and harder and much more jaded. She digs her wand into his broken thigh, leaning across his lap until they are nose to nose.
"Tell me."
He grunts in pain and tries to squirm backwards out of her reach. But his back is already against the wall.
"TELL ME!"
"Okay, okay. Just please..."
She lifts her wand off his leg and waits to hear what he has to say.
"I told you that I went on the run after Dumbledore... after I let the deatheaters into hogwarts."
She nods.
"Well at the beginning I wasn't on my own. Well I was but I kept in contact with someone."
"Who?"
"Snape. He was the one who helped me run, gave me muggle money and, at first, fed me information."
"But Snape is...?"
"Yeah I know, he's with the Order. He told me a few days after that night. He told me how Dumbledore came to him with an offer similar to the one he gave to me. Only Snape took it. Which is why I think he risked so much to help me. He let me know how my family was doing and what was happening in the Wizarding world and then..."
He hesitates, eyes shifting to look anywhere but at her.
"Then what?...Malfoy tell me."
"He told me about about an the next raid that was planned. He told me the targets were a muggle-born and their muggle family. Then he gave me one of your mirror communicators so I could send a warning directly to the Order's headquarters. The Dark Lord was beginning to suspect him of duplicity and he could not be the one to send the message. He said that it was my choice, my decision, and that he wouldn't think less of me if I choice not to send it because it just might mean my own capture and death."
It suddenly clicks. The attack. Her parents death, her almost death. The mystery warning from a unknown source. It all fits. She can't believe it and she can't stop looking at him like she has never seen him before.
"At first I wasn't going to do anything. I had been on my own for so long and evaded detection and I didn't want to jeopardize that. I was so scared of everything; scared of every little shadow, even my own. But I kept thinking about the muggleborn they had targeted and I kept seeing your face and I couldn't... couldn't..." He laughs, short and bitter.
His eyes meet hers and she is stunned. Stunned that she is where she is and he is where he is and that this is really happening.
"I couldn't knowingly do nothing, no matter how much I wanted too."
She stares at him, completely and utterly at a loss for words. She whispers to him in stark disbelief,"...You saved my life."
He shakes his head at this. "I didn't know that it was you."
"Still..." she reaches out and touches his shoulder, "Malfoy you saved me."
He shrugs off her hand, agitated and angry for some unimaginable reason.
"No you don't understand." He laughs again, the same short bitter laugh from before. "I absolutely hated you in school. I wanted you dead!"
"I know." She says softly and matter-a-factly. Because she does. It seems not so long ago that she hated him herself.
"No!..." He jumps up, towering above her. "...you don't know."
She feels small looking up at him and there is something in his face that makes her just a little bit afraid. Somehow, somewhere in this surreal conversation the power between them has shifted from her to him. The tiny train compartment seems much to small to hold all the volatile emotions flying between them.
"You understand nothing." His voice is fierce and determined. "Your beneath me. Your crude and dirty and filthy and everything that I was taught to hate. Your a mudblood!"
She recoils at the hateful words and when he advances on her she takes a step back for every step he takes forward.
"I hate you because your blood runs muddy in your veins. I hate you because your not supposed to exist. Your an anomaly, the exception to the rule. And I hate that you use magic just as freely and easily as me. But most of all I hate you because you made me want you. You made me want something that is beneath me, something that I was taught all my life that is crude and filthy, a mudblood."
She doesn't understand. She made him want her?
"Only your not, they lied to me, your not any of those things. You bleed just as red as I do. And I've always known that but I refused to believe it because it would change everything. It would make everything I am, my whole world, wrong. It would mean that I'm not any more special or higher evolved than you. I didn't want to have to change how I felt, or even be forced to come face to face with the fact that I have changed how I feel. But I couldn't ignore that everything had changed because you were always there to remind me. You were always there with you frizzy hair and know-it-all ways and muddy blood to make me see that you were just as good, even better than me; and I hate you for that." He repeats hopelessly..."I hate you." But there is no anger in his voice or any real heat in the words.
Her back is against the wall now and his face is inches away from hers and she can feel his breath wash over her face with each word. His eyes flutter close at the last words and when they open again she is suddenly and inexplicably afraid.
Then he does something unimaginable.
He reaches out and grabs her by the arms and presses her back into the wall of the tiny train compartment and then...
...then he is kissing her.
-
-
-
Next up: A fever means very honest conversation and post-coital anxiety. It also means an emergency stop at an old friend's house.
Preview Chapter 12: As she watch horrified his eyes roll back in his head and with a small exhale he lays deathly still.
"No!!! Malfoy? Malfoy!!!..." she screams his name, shaking him back and forth. But is is unresponding, his head lolling to the side on a limp neck.
"MALFOY!!!" she is near tears and desperate; all to aware that they are alone and completely isolated from anyone who could help.
I had posted this to fanfiction previously under the same user name and that where it will be updated first. I would love it if you guys would review/alert my story there...