Chapter 7: Reminiscent Rendezvous

This has to be the worst Christmas ever, Hermione thought to herself. It wasn’t a bitter thought; just a mere fact, a sad reality. It was Christmas Eve, and everyone had already gone to bed. But no matter what, Hermione couldn’t fall asleep. She sat up on her bed, in her temporary room at Shell Cottage, and turned the bedside table lamp on.

My parents don’t know I exist, Ron ran away…

Ron. Hermione liked Ron fine, but something had changed after he left. Or perhaps it hadn’t been there at all in the first place. He’d pleaded with her in sixth year to go out with him, and, not knowing any better, she’d agreed. But in his short absence, she realized that while he cared for her, they didn’t like each other in that way, much less love. And he had betrayed not only her, but Harry as well by leaving them.

Not wanting to break the fragile relationship between the three of them though, and with more pressing thoughts on her mind, she hadn’t said anything to him. Hermione wanted to keep it that way, at least until after the final battle had been fought. Meanwhile, it’d give her some more to think about it.

I was on the fringe of being murdered by Bellatrix LeStrange, we just barely escaped Malfoy Manor…

Malfoy Manor. It was only a few days ago that they’d been trapped there, held for questioning. Of all the events that had happened there though, she remembered one the most clearly: Draco. Bellatrix had asked – no, forced was more like it – Draco to come and determine whether or not they were actually thy “Golden Trio”. As soon as he’d stared into her eyes, recognition had flickered. He almost seemed to be peering into her, searching for something that wasn’t there. He had looked scared too. But then again, wasn’t everyone? Though he could clearly tell it was her, he’d flatly denied it. And maybe that was really what saved the three of them.

To this day, Hermione wondered why. Why would Malfoy, someone who she hated, and hated her right back, feel any obligation to save her life? As she’d stared into those steely grey eyes, she’d felt… a connection? She couldn’t quite understand it. But maybe it being there at all was enough for now.

Happy holidays Draco, she murmured, before fatigue finally overtook her and she fell asleep.

***

Draco lay awake, thinking. Suddenly he remembered that it was Christmas Eve. Damn Christmas, he thought. Everyone fakes being happy, and then everything goes back to their nasty state again. This year, his parents hadn’t even bothered pretending they were celebrating the holiday. They’d both been too busy focusing on the Dark Lord’s plans…

If it had been his choice, he wouldn’t have joined the force of the Death Eaters. He would’ve stayed out of the battle, in his own world where the Dark Lord did not exist. But his father had forced him to join, saying it would reflect well on their family. Secretly, Draco resented Voldemort. He knew the truth behind the Dark Lord’s lies and plans – murder. Murdering all who were not like them, though they did nothing wrong.

Like Hermione, he thought. For the past few days, his thoughts had flashed back constantly to that night. He’d stared into her pleading eyes, and felt… pity. Sadness. Anger that it had to go down like this. They were emotions he was unfamiliar with, and for that he was scared. Was he becoming like the Dark Lord too: cold and emotionless?

Despite all his actions, he secretly cared. About her. Though of course he’d never tell; not in a million years. But upon seeing Hermione being tortured again and again by his aunt, Draco had longed to go over there and protect her; take all the pain for himself, which he deserved. The one thing that stopped him was betrayal. He would’ve betrayed his family, something he could not bring himself to do.

Which was why he had grasped the chance of denying his aunt, and lied. He owed much more to Granger, but it had been the most he could do. For now. He hoped she was safe; there’d been no word on where they’d gone after disapparating with the house elf. He hoped that wherever she was now, she had a nice warm bed to sleep in and food on the table each day. These kind thoughts were foreign to him. But hey, I think I can get used to them. It was funny really, how much he cared about Granger now. Or, rather, how much he admitted it.

All this thinking is starting to get to me. Better go to sleep now, he thought. Merry Christmas, Hermione. Wherever you are.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Bleh! Didn't really like this one. I kind of rushed in order to finish, and so it's pretty messy. Argh. :(