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Chosen	By : TillieJupiter Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 8284 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: In its use of intellectual property and characters of Harry Potter belonging to JK Rowling, Warner Bros, Bloomsbury Publishing, et cetera, this work is intended to be transformative commentary on the original. No profit is being made from this wor

Chapter List
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Though the break was a nice reprieve from school work and Head Prefect duty, the anticipation of seeing Draco again, for better or worse, was cracking at Hermione’s psyche. Even though she didn’t know what she was going to say, or even how she really felt about the whole thing, just having an end to the unknown was all she needed, and it seemed the biggest unknown was how Draco would react when she saw him again. For her whole life, nothing was much of a surprise—except when it came to things dealing with Voldemort and the impending war, but that was unknown to everyone. But now, after she impulsively thrust her destiny forward into an unknown path, the eagerness to have answers was all that drove her. Draco could outright dismiss her and they would pretend nothing had ever happened, and that was still a better conclusion than the unknown. But whether or not she would actually feel relieved when confronted with the truth still remained to be seen.
As she walked towards her dorm, she stood with her spine as erect and proud as she could bear. Pulling her trunk along, she could feel her heart rattle in her chest as she got closer and closer to the portrait door. She wasn’t even sure if Draco would be there, but the possibility made her hair stand on end. Behind that door could be the answer she was looking for, and no matter what the conclusion was to this tangent in her young life, she was eager to find out.
“Lucios lemos,” she said to the painting. The man standing before his dining family nodded and the door began to swing open. As light streamed out into the hall from the Common Room, Hermione found her breath hitched in her chest at the prospect that Draco may be only a few feet from her. For a moment she stood frozen in her spot, but then pushed herself through the doorway with her head held high. As the door closed behind her, she took a peak around the room and found it was empty. Bright sunlight and the reflection of the glare on the snow shone through the window illuminating the room. Some candles were lit around the Common Room, but could have been left that way from earlier that morning. For all appearances, it seemed Draco wasn’t there.
Hermione let a deep breath out from her tight chest as the anxiety of that moment escaped her. She pressed her hand to her heart where she willed the pitter-patter to cease. Though she was no closer to an answer, she wasn’t sure if her nerves could have really taken it; all of the adrenaline that was coursing through her system the minute she set foot in Hogwarts had made her weak and fatigued. She wasn’t used to situations of such high anxiety, except in cases of life or death with Harry and Ron years earlier; she figured she must be batty to really prefer those instances than the one she was experiencing and had been experiencing for the past weeks; at least then she didn’t feel alone in her experience when it came to fighting Voldemort.
As Hermione stood in the middle of the Common Room gathering her wits, a pair of gray eyes watched from up above in the shadowed doorway of his bedroom. As he leaned against the doorway, he was surprised she hadn’t seen him initially. But when she didn’t, he realized he was going to have to be the one that broke the silence and announce his presence—a Malfoy doesn’t just hide. For a moment he felt panic run through him as he tried to figure out what to say, which still eluded him after all this time no matter how many times he ran scenarios through is mind. But then, closing his eyes, he gathered himself and the Draco Malfoy character that exuded arrogance, insolence, and disgust quickly came back to him—he had perfected it over the years making this role he played seamless.
“Oh, it’s you,” he spat.
Hermione spun around on her heel in shock and looked up the stairs where the voice had come from. In her movement, she knocked over her trunk that had been standing up on its side. “Oh!” she cried as she leaned down quickly to pick it back up. She could feel his eyes on her, judging her, and she felt a mess already.
Draco chuckled at the scene below, and felt his arrogance strengthen within him at how uneasy she was in his presence—it was something he had always wanted to see from the Gryffindor witch; through the years she had usually remained so unfazed by him, building a resistance to his priggish attitude except if he was really cruel, but now in front of him she was like a little nervous child. He felt pride for the affect he had on her, and cruelly wished he had shagged her earlier just to have weakened her as an intellectual foe. As he watched her clumsily straighten out her trunk and herself, Draco began walking down the stairs towards her with a cocky smirk on his face.
When she finally straightened herself out, Hermione found herself face to face with Draco. She noted that he was standing closer to her than she remembered he ever had in most of their interactions, and she felt her spine stiffen as she met his eyes. She could feel her heart pounding harder and louder than ever before—so loud she could swear everyone in Hogwarts could hear it thumping. She hated that she had made a fool of herself, but she still couldn’t drag herself out of her anxiety-ridden trance that made her easy prey. As her eyes caught his, she noted they did not look much different than she had remembered from all the other times they quarreled. Searching his gray depths, she willed herself to see something more.
“Granger,” he said.
Hermione felt her breath hitch within her chest at the sound of his voice saying her name, but at the same time not actually saying her name—no, not like he had before. With that one utterance, she realized the tone of the conversation and she felt the walls build up around her heart. She clenched her jaw as the scenarios of more pleasant interactions seemed to burn within her as she hated herself for even fantasizing. Taking in his appearance, and the way he seemed the same as before, as if nothing had happened, she felt her eyes narrow into a glare—she could play this part if he wanted her to; after all, she had perfected it through the years.
“Malfoy,” she replied with indignation.
They stood there silent then, as if waiting for the other one to say something. Since he had set the tone of the conversation from the get-go, Hermione felt herself silenced by caution; he had obviously come to some conclusion about how to proceed past that night, while she had come up empty. Though she hated that she allowed him the power to somehow dictate her future, her inability to determine the meaning to his past influence, and their night of passion, left her at a stalemate; the fact that he was still such an unknown kept her from relying on and anticipating any true outcome, because she realized her will could be paramount to nothing in the end. However, she had to admit she felt some hurt for the fact that her will and feelings meant nothing to him.
As Draco scowled at her, he caught a whiff of her scent and instantly the flashes of their salacious activities that night weeks ago danced behind his eyes, but his face remained unchanged. These images had haunted him and had become part of his reality that he was starting to become tired. But now, with her right in front of him, these images again seemed real instead of from some perverse dream. For a moment, he lost himself, and he could feel his heart begin to pound in his chest as the propaganda machine in his mind went silent. Feeling suddenly free, he immediately felt panic set in knowing the fleeting moment only weakened him. With a vengeance, the screaming his mind started again as if a drill sergeant commanding his soldier in line. His grimace and brooding in his eyes strengthened as he glared at the girl who made him momentarily weak. She truly was his enemy.
“Stay out of my way,” he said in a low voice as his face darkened with menace.
Hermione remained silent and glared back at him. Her chin lowered slightly as she felt her pride diminish under his piercing gray eyes. She felt hurt at his malice—missing the man who bore his soul to her that night before intimately kissing and touching her. The questions, anticipation, and even hope she had were squelched with those words; what they had might as well have been a dream or a nightmare. As the pain resonated in her chest, she felt her eyes fall to the floor as she searched her soul for strength. The only strength she could draw from came from a place of anger, and her eyes flashed up at him. The hatred that was in her eyes was nothing he had ever seen before, as her face darkened before she spoke.
“Fuck you.”

It was Sunday night—the night the Head Boy and Girl were to do their rounds patrolling the castle. The next day classes were to resume, and the castle was quiet when the clock struck midnight. Hermione spent her patrol in silence, alone with her thoughts. The day before the weeks of anticipation had come to a conclusion, as the life she saw within his gray eyes hardened and disappeared. The malice and hate she had become used to through the years were ever present. This fact should not have surprised her, but the tender moments they had shared weeks prior had made her feel foolish believing it indicating there was more to the Slytherin Head Boy. Even in her moments of anger, a feeling still nagged at her that there was still hope. But then she wondered, What exactly do I hope?
As she walked down the darkened corridors, she began to analyze what it was that she felt like she lost. Did she lose a potential friend, ally, or lover? But she realized all of these things were selfish labels—ones that benefited her—even if true. There was an even more basic truth to the feelings of hurt she had felt—a loss of something even more important: Draco had lost himself. Hermione believed that everyone—or almost everyone—had good within them, and in those moments when he bore his soul to her, showing he had cared about something more than his Malfoy name, proved that he did have good in him; in showing kindness and intimacy to someone like herself, who represents an enemy to his blood, he demonstrated he was more than just a Slytherin soldier in the war against the muddied. Outside of the persona of Slytherin Prince, he became a person—a person who could be kind, tender, and caring. No matter what, the truth of the person inside of Draco Malfoy was exposed, and Hermione had been there to witness it. She felt fortunate to have seen this part of Draco, but saddened that he seemed set on denying its existence.
As she opened the door to the Astronomy Tower as one of the last sections of her patrol, she was startled by a figure standing near the ledge looking out. At her gasp, the figure turned around and looked at her. It was Draco. He remained silent as he peered at her, and his face seemed more neutral—no scowl or furrowed brow. In fact, his gray eyes almost looked sad to her as her wand illuminated his face. As she regarded him, she realized his wand was nowhere in sight. He had been standing there in the darkness.
“What are you doing up here?” she asked. This was out of the way for his patrol path.
“Nothing,” he said softly as he turned around and looked out over the ground again. His eyes looked like they were far away in thought, completely disconnected from his body. He stood there in silence for a moment, before turning around and walking past her.
Hermione felt his warm presence brush past her shoulders and she turned around to watch him leave. Suddenly, she felt words tumble out of her mouth. “I’m not the enemy,” she said quickly.
Draco stopped in his tracks and stood silent for a moment. His tall, dark figure seemed mysterious in the shadows. He then turned around, his face illuminated. The sadness she saw before seemed more present. “No, I am,” he said softly, his eyes not meeting hers. Draco then turned around and walked away, disappearing into the darkness of the castle leaving Hermione alone.
Hermione’s brow furrowed as the words seeped into her. Her feet carried her after him and quickly came upon him descending down the numerous stairs.
“You can’t just say something like that,” Hermione said with exasperation as she stepped after him.
“I’m not having this conversation,” Draco said continuing down the stairs.
“Why do you always run?!” Hermione accused as hurried her steps towards him.
“And why do you always fight?!” Draco suddenly shouted as he turned around to face her. “What the hell are you fighting for?!” he called desperately.
Hermione stopped in her tracks as they came face to face; a few steps below her, they were nearly at the same height as he turned to glare at her. She felt a pain within her as any of her leftover anger melted into sadness when she looked into his eyes; the sympathy she had begun to feel for him earlier that year was becoming overwhelming. Even if he hurt her, she felt even more pain for the hurt she saw in his eyes; it was a pain she not could fix, and she felt even more rage for the man that not only helped ruin the lives of her friends, but obviously of his sons. In humanizing Draco Malfoy, the years of moments she witnessed between father and son took a whole new meaning for her. The prospect of being the son of Lucius Malfoy seemed even more daunting than being an enemy. He was fighting a hard battle, and he seemed to not know why. The tension between them was palpable as his cries rang off the walls of the immense stairway far above the grounds of Hogwarts, and she felt tears begin to fill her eyes as his dark eyes bore into hers. “Myself,” she finally said softly.
Silence stretched between them as Draco’s gray eyes narrowed at the sight before him. His face seemed to grow dark as he regarded the Head Girl. Even with what seemed to be tears filling her hazel eyes, she exuded a strength he envied; that strength came from within her where she fought for herself, her life, which was a concept foreign to him. His glare pierced into her seeing his pain reflect back at him; she was like a mirror, and mirrors had become his enemy. Her tears, unlike before, weren’t full of confusion, anger, or sadness for herself—those tears were for him. “Don’t look at me that way,” Draco said lowly as he turned his gaze away from her, unable to continue meeting her gaze that seemed to see through him.
“I can’t look at you any other way…” she whispered feeling her throat begin to hurt as she held back tears.
“Then don’t look at me at all,” he growled. Before Hermione had a chance to respond her turned around and quickly continued his way down the stairs and was soon out her site as he rounded the softly graded corner.
Her feet did not will her follow him. His dark features were painted in her mind as the depths of his gray eyes seemed to sear into her, plucking at her heartstrings. Knowing the charade of their feud would continue, Hermione felt her resolve already begin to deteriorate after one day. Her anger and hate were waning, and the hurt she felt for his denial of her was beginning to become dwarfed by her empathy. Seeing the darkness in his eyes, and knowing what light could show, pained her. She only hoped one day that light could shine brightly again, even if she wasn’t there to see it.
The next morning, after the students had settled back into their normal schedules again, the Gryffindor students were sitting at their table eating breakfast. The giddiness of the holiday cheer had worn off, and some of the students already looked tired from their busy schedules. Hermione sat reading and trying to memorize the upcoming chapter in her Potions class while she drank her orange juice.
“Hermione!” a cheery voice called from down the table. Hermione looked up from her book and caught the bright blue eyes of Lavender Brown. Hermione offered a smile to the girl and waved.
Ron, catching the scene, furrowed his brow in a perplexed look. “What’s that all about?” Ron accused.
“Oh, didn’t you know? Hermione and Lavender are friends now,” Ginny said nonchalantly. Hermione had told Ginny about running into Lavender over break in the pub when Hermione had come up early to spend time with the Weasleys.
“Friends? You two are friends now?!” he said incredulously.
“Yeah, so what?” Hermione said nonchalantly as she looked down at her book again.
“So what?! After all that grief you gave me after I went out with her last year, now you two are just friends? What about how you think she’s such a–” Ron said, beginning on a tirade. Before he could finish his sentence, Hermione leaned over in alarm to cover his mouth with her hands.
“Shut up!” she whispered harshly as she looked over towards Lavender’s direction to see if she was listening. When it seemed Ron was no longer going to finish his sentence, she quickly sat back down and smoothed out her robes, to demonstrate her calm.
“People change,” she said resolutely.
“I was just dating her, I should know she hasn’t,” he defended.
“I wasn’t talking about her!” she shot back.
Ron then looked perplexed as he regarded his friend. Hermione did seem softer somehow, and the fact that she was accepting of Lavender as a friend spoke volumes to him. Over the years, Hermione had built up walls of conceit that allowed her to not feel the harsh denial of her peers. Within those walls, Hermione was untouchable. The only people who seemed to hurt her were her true friends, or enemies. Now in their last year, surrounded by both, she seemed to actually be expanding beyond those walls, and Ron wondered if the constant attacks from the enemy—Draco Malfoy—were beginning to wear on her. Suddenly, he felt sympathetic for his friend, and wondered if her new friendship with Lavender actually showed that she was lonely, or desperate, for acceptance. It was then that Ron felt a resurgence of the need to protect her.
“What did he do to you?” Ron suddenly asked incredulously.
“What?! Who?” Hermione asked in confusion.
“Malfoy!” Ron accused.
“Wait, what are you two talking about?” Harry said jumping in when Draco’s name caught his attention.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Ron,” Hermione said firmly.
“Never mind!” Ron said harshly, standing up. His anger was so sudden that he didn’t even know what he was accusing at this point, but he knew he was mad. He stormed off out of the Great Hall and his friends watched with confusion.
“Can Weasley still not find the mysterious clitoris?” Seamus called to Harry, Hermione, and Ginny when he saw Ron storm out of the Great Hall. He and his friends laughed as blush rose to Hermione’s cheeks. Not only did she feel mad at the continuance of the insults toward Ron by the other Gryffindors even though at the time Hermione had felt vindicated by it, but she also felt somehow violated by the insinuation of her involvement sexually.
“Shut up, Seamus!” Harry growled.
Seamus and his friends continued laughing and Hermione, Harry, and Ginny all looked at each other.
“What was that about?” Ginny asked Hermione.
“I honestly don’t know…” Hermione admitted softly.
“Well, I guess that’s my cue. I’ll go see if I can talk him down,” Harry said as he stood up. “Don’t wait up for me,” he said to Ginny as he took a final swig of his orange juice before leaving.
“Boys…” Ginny said sighing and shaking her head.
Hermione felt her heart beating in her chest as she felt the panic rise within her. Ron was suspicious that something had happened between her and Draco, it appeared. Even though it was improbable he had any clue about the truth, she felt anxious nonetheless. And the fact that she herself was unable to concisely determine what the truth was, made her even more unsettled. She couldn’t answer his question even if she wanted to; any answer she could provide would be dreadfully incomplete. Hermione knew there was more to the story than even she knew.

“You’re even weaker than before!” Snape howled as he continued to point his wand at the crumpled body on the floor.
Draco lay on the floor curled into a fetal position as he held his head. His entire body quaked as he whimpered from the searing pain in his head. His face was contorted unrecognizably into pain as beads of sweat dripped off his pallid skin. Gray, weak eyes were squeezed in pain and anger. “Please…stop,” he cried.
Snape exasperatedly pulled his wand away and paced away from the boy. A look of anger and desperation appeared on his face as he ran his hand through his dark locks in thought; for once, the professor seemed disturbed as there was a crack in his normally calm appearance. He seemed to mull over his limited options as he watched the broken body on his floor try to claw its way back up from the depths of despair. “What am I supposed to do with you?” Snape asked as if to himself.
As the searing pain eased on Draco’s brain, he felt the familiar fatigue take over his body. As he tried to peel himself up off the floor, his muscles and will cried out for rest. After a few moments of struggling to get to his knees, an exasperated Snape pried the boy harshly off the floor by his shoulder. When Draco got to his feet, Snape threw him back into the chair that had become his very own personal torture device.
“You’ll be dead the next time he curses you!” Snape yelled.
“Good!” Draco called back.
“Oh for Merlin’s sake!” Snape said in exasperation as he looked towards the heavens as if to ask for divine intervention. “I am not equipped to deal with teenage angst, Malfoy.”
“Then don’t,” Draco said as he started to try and push himself up out of the chair as if to leave.
“Sit down!” Snape said as he pushed Draco’s weak body back into the chair with little effort. “You’re not only risking your life, but my own. Do you think I would have taken the Unbreakable Vow if I had known how weak you were?! You can’t even fight for your life!”
Draco crossed his arms over his chest in a show of indignation. He felt spent of all energy and emotion, and the idea of fighting anything seemed impossible at the moment. He no longer felt like putting up a fight to spare his life; with more time, all he could do was bring shame to his family. He was already dead inside, so it didn’t matter anymore. “What life?” Draco asked with a dejected sigh.
Suddenly, Snape’s face was mere inches from his own, and his dark eyes bore into Draco’s. “You’re not even 18 years old, and you have decades ahead of you–” he said lowly.
“Decades? I’m a soldier. There are no guarantees,” Draco said darkly, interrupting Snape.
“There are never guarantees. But I can tell you this—I will with all my power protect you,” Snape declared fiercely.
“For fear of dying yourself,” Draco mocked.
Snape was silent as he leaned over the boy and stared him down. His face was contorted into a grimace. “I did not have to take that Vow; I made a choice, Draco,” Snape said slowly as he stepped away from him. “I took that Vow because I wanted to.”
Draco looked surprised, and he downcast his eyes towards the floor feeling somehow ashamed to meet the man’s eyes. He had never been privy to the details of the Vow that was made, but he had always assumed somehow Snape was coerced into it. With this new information, Draco suddenly felt guilt for being so selfish when Snape had been so selfless. “Why?” Draco asked desperately.
“Believe it or not, Draco, people care about you–” Snape began.
“–because I’m their puppet!” Draco interjected with a cry.
“No!” Snape bellowed as he whipped around to glare at Draco. “You might have been convinced by your father that your purpose was to be nothing more than that, and the Dark Lord may have preyed upon this weakness, but there is an entire world outside your anguished view. Though it may seem cliché, a mother’s love is infinite; even with the threat that the Dark Lord may punish her for speaking of your mission she came to me to beg for help. I would not have taken on your life if I did not believe it had value.”
Draco felt even more shamed by Snape’s words and cast his eyes even lower.
“We often do not live for ourselves; we live for those around us—to protect them,” Snape said softly. Draco looked up from the chair to his mentor and found Snape’s dark eyes soft as he stared off sadly in his own anguish. Then, his dark eyes met Draco’s again with a look of resolution. “You can protect them, Draco.”

Chapter Note(s):
Special thanks to Beta Reader Free_Buckbeak.
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