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Until Again	By : RynStar15 Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 15446 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Harry Potter and do not make any money by using the world of J. K Rowling here.

Chapter List
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The weeks following proved to be some of the hardest acting Hermione had ever had to do. True, seeing Ron with “Lav-Lav” was still gut-wrenching (and exceedingly disgusting) enough to have her running in the other direction anytime the two leeches were in close proximity, but she couldn’t seem to muster the pain it had brought on initially. After what she and Draco had shared everything else just seemed so…juvenile. Watching the two of them sucking face like they needed the other to breathe was just pathetic.
But Harry seemed as reticent to spend his time around them as she was and she was thereby forced to play the scorned woman. When she was too close to a laughing fit she would duck into the nearest bathroom to pull herself together. When Luna caught her snorting into her fist one day in the loo after watching Ron attempt to make fun of her she’d had to pull on her nose hairs to make her eyes water so it had looked like she was crying instead of laughing.
She honestly could not believe what had made him act this way. Hadn’t she tried to invite him to Slughorn’s party? She had thought she’d made her feelings towards him obvious. Did he truly find her that abhorrent?
And at the same time, she felt a deep shame that warred with the longing she felt every time she saw Ron and Stupid-Bimbo-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named holding hands in the corridors.
She would never have that with Draco. She would never be able to sit beside him in class and feel his hand upon her knee. Never be able to share a meal with him, cozy up to him beside the fire, go for private walks around the lake. No one could ever know the feelings that tore at her with every glance of his fiery grey eyes, the breath that caught in her chest every time she thought of the beauty they had shared.
No one would ever know that she was a traitor to her own kind.
But it was this guilt which made it easier and easier to lash out at Ron. It was his fault after all. If he hadn’t rebuffed her every advance she wouldn’t even be considering what she was doing now. If she wasn’t so desperate for attention she wouldn’t have to seek it from their greatest enemy. This merry-go-round of anger was spinning out of control until she was lashing out at Harry enough to drive him insane, she knew, but she couldn’t help it. She felt so betrayed by Ron and disgusted at herself she was hard-pressed to keep her mind where it belonged, until Harry brought out that stupid book, anyway. Couldn’t he see that it was clearly full of Dark Magic? Why was he so blind? He should have taken it to Dumbledore first thing. Or at the very least toss it in the first bin he came to. Hadn’t he learned anything throughout all these years?
After giving Harry yet another railing (to which he’d turned a deaf ear) and running into the Tentacula Twins, she found herself cornered once again by Cormac McLaggen. After repressing her gag reflex at her revulsion of him, she was suddenly struck with a feeling of revenge, a feeling she had rarely felt in any occasion, but the vision of Ronald wrapping himself around the sallow slag was fresh on her mind.
“Would you like to accompany me to Slughorn’s party this weekend?” she spat out, interrupting his incessant prattle. He was taken aback as she had always spurned his advance with utmost haste.
“Come again?”
She repeated herself, feeling as though she were courting a rather daft toddler. He readily agreed and went on about how she was bound to have fallen for his irresistible charm eventually and she cut him off telling him when and where to meet her and ducking around his attempt to grope her. She hurried down the hall and gasped in fright as she was yanked into an empty classroom and she fought, envisioning Cormac’s repulsive face but she was cut off by being tugged against a warm and familiar body even as he covered her mouth to prevent her scream and his other hand caught her wand which she’d brought up in self-defense.
“It’s me,” Draco whispered in her ear and she ceased her struggles. She ripped out of his arms and smacked him soundly on the arm.
“Quit doing that, you scare the dickens out of me every time!” she snapped. “I almost cursed you!”
He snorted. “I could have deflected it a year in advance. Your fighting skills require work.”
She started to retort but he silenced her with a wave of his hand. “Am I mistaken or did you just ask out McLaggen?”
Hermione blushed, embarrassed. “Yes, well, he has been groveling over me for quite some time and Ronald absolutely abhors him so I thought-”
“So you thought you’d give him a free invitation to maul you in public for your own immature form of vengeance? Hermione, he’s had his eye on you all year, you know what he intends. He’s a miscreant; he’ll drag you to the dungeons and have his way with you at the slightest chance!”
“I can take care of myself, thanks,” she replied coolly.
“Really? Because last I knew I easily dragged you in here without much resistance. I could have had you gagged and bound before you began your silly attempt to fight.”
“I highly doubt McLaggen intends to-”
“I can guarantee you that is exactly what he intends!”
“You know, there are some men out there who would want me for more reasons than my body!” she fumed, even knowing that he was precisely right. McLaggen couldn’t care less about her as a person and probably only wanted her because she was Harry’s friend and therefore his easiest chance at fame. But the blow she struck had done as she intended and Draco’s face darkened.
“Hermione, stay away from him. He’s more dangerous than you think.”
She snorted. “He’s harmless. And who are you to say who I go out with anyway? What, are you going to accompany me to Slughorn’s party?” He stared at her stonily. “That’s what I thought. Now if you’ll excuse me I would like to go to bed, the last place, it seems, that I can find peace in this blasted castle from you prats!”
She stormed from the classroom and made her way to her dormitory, snapping at the Fat Lady so harshly that Violet had squealed in reproach.
She wanted to scream. She wanted to hit something. She was so sick of it all! Who did he think he was, remarking on her decisions? He had no say whatsoever in what she did! They had only ever seen each other behind closed doors and that was the extent of their relationship. He could never have her in any other way, so why in Hades did he think he could tell her what to do?! She could do as she pleased and see who she pleased, not that it pleased her in any way to be seeing Cormac. The very idea brought chills and she was nauseated with her harried decision. But he didn’t need to know that. She was sure that Cormac was a fine man…deep, deep, down.
All of this was Ron’s fault anyway! Why couldn’t he have chosen her?
Shrieking in frustration she buried her face in her pillow and spent the night tossing restlessly.

***

Why?

Why in Merlin had she thought this was a good idea?
She attempted to duck under McLaggen’s arm for the umpteenth time that night but was stalled and his wet lips descended on hers once more. She whimpered in dismay and jumped as his hand crept ever higher. She shoved him back and followed a waiter back into the throng, weaving between people, looking for cover. She quickly spotted two abysmally clad members of the band that had played at the Yule Ball, whom she couldn’t remember the name of, and squeezed unseen between them. Only when she heard Harry hailing her did she emerge. However, he was a direct beeline for Cormac and she promptly had to make yet another escape, only halting when she heard Draco’s voice. She saw him struggling against Filch’s grip and his eyes caught hers. Get out, he mouthed quickly before loudly commenting on Filch’s preferred fragrance.
Despite his warning, she was rooted to the spot and watched the exchange between him and Snape with fascination. She could tell there was something stewing between the two and when Snape dragged him out into the corridor she followed and quickly darted into the classroom beside them, pressing her ear against the adjacent wall. She listened to the entire exchange, her heart sinking with every word. It was true, then, about Katie, about his “task,” about everything…
He was one of them. Voldemort had entrusted a task to him, no doubt as punishment for his father’s imprisonment, of which she was partially to blame. How could Draco even stand to look at her, knowing she’d helped put his father behind bars? It was something she hadn’t though much of, but which was clearly still an open wound for him.
She sat in the cold classroom hours after the two had left, listening to the party-goers filtering off to bed as she ran the conversation over and over in her mind.

***

The next day she said a hasty goodbye to Harry in the common room, an empty trunk by her side, and snuck back up to her dormitory when Ron and Lavender began crawling up each other like arborists. She was supposed to be staying with her parents but since the conversation she’d heard during the party she knew Draco would be staying behind to work on his “mission.” She scrawled a quick letter to her parents telling them that she just had too much studying to do to come home and begged them to understand. Her heart did sink a little as she sent the letter. She didn’t know how much more time she had with them and hated wasting these weeks without them. But the knowledge that Draco was doing something dangerous right under her nose was too much. She had to find out what it was. He’d made it pretty clear that he’d been the one who had cursed Katie and yet Hermione didn’t fall for it. Why would he target her, of all people? As far as she knew the two had never spoken off the Quidditch pitch and no amount of rivalry was worth murder. No, there had been another reason and Katie had somehow intercepted. So who was the deadly necklace for? Harry?

She then wrote another note asking him to meet her in the Transfiguration practice room at midnight. She knew the halls would be much more deserted since very few students had stayed behind this Christmas season. She doubted more than one teacher would be lurking about and they would therefore likely be undisturbed.
Nerves jangling, she arrived quite early and sat in the dark, shivering. She could of course turn on a light, but it might be seen out a window and she wasn’t ready to face him in the light anyway. The soft glow of the moon was oddly comforting.
When he finally strode through the door he slammed it behind himself so hard that she jumped right out of her seat.
“What are you doing here?” he growled darkly.
“I-I just wanted to see you…” she stammered, confused at his anger. He couldn’t possibly know she’d overheard!
“You’re not supposed to be here. You should be at home. Why are you here?”
He had not come any closer and yet she could see clearly his red eyes and drawn features. His angry demeanor had her dander up and she straightened her shoulders. “I’m not sure that it’s any of your business. I certainly don’t require your permission to do as I please.”
She had half a mind to send him walking as she had not anticipated this behavior, but she needed information from him and it couldn’t wait.
“As it so happens, I’m here because of you.”
He looked taken aback, the response she’d been looking for. She took a steadying breath and stepped forward in an attempt to rattle him.
“I heard every word you and Snape exchanged last night,” she said, watching the fear enter his eyes. “I know about Katie, I know you have the Mark. I saw it last summer when you used it to intimidate Borgin and you don’t hide it very well when we’re together. I know you have a mission and that conversation with him played a role. I know Snape is a traitor; he’s made the Unbreakable Vow to help you. I know a whole lot more than you think. What I don’t know is why.”
He stood there for several long, silent minutes. Hermione waited. She could practically hear the wheels turning in his head.
“I don’t owe you an explanation. If what you say is true, then why haven’t you reported me?”
“Because I wanted your side of the story.”
“You won’t get it. You’re meddling in things that reach far beyond the realm of your pretty little world. You best get out while you still can.”
“I’m in this, Draco. If you hadn’t forgotten, I happen to be one of those pesky little Mudbloods that you and your Master are working so hard to rid the world of!”
“Then you’d better watch your step.”
“Or what?” she trilled. “Are you going to do me in? Go ahead, you know the spell!” Hermione spread her arms wide and dropped her wand to the floor. She knew she was playing with fire, but she couldn’t stop. “Go on! Now I’m wandless! And being you’re so very clever I’m sure you can come up with some fine excuse! Come on, what would Voldemort give you?” She smiled when he started at the sound of his name. “What, don’t like that I can say it? Voldemort! There, I said it again!”
“Watch yourself, Granger-”
“What, is he suddenly going to appear if I say it? Aren’t you two bosom buddies? Why shouldn’t you use his name?”
“You have no idea-”
“Oh, yes!” Hermione threw her head back and laughed. “That’s right, I know nothing of what he can do! My best friend hasn’t escaped him several times, or anything. And as a matter of fact, if I remember correctly, I escaped him last summer as well! Although it’s true, I never had the pleasure of meeting him face-to-face, but if I recall your father didn’t come out so well! Oh, no, have I said something to upset you?” she said as he turned on his heel for the door. But he whipped around so suddenly she had no time to react. His hand was at her throat and he had her on her toes, grasping at his wrists.
“I could kill you, you know,” he murmured darkly, his breath hot on her face. Her lungs started to burn moments before he softened his grip, lowering her back to the floor. When he dropped his hand she coughed and reached up to rub the sore spot.
“Then why don’t you?”
“You know why,” he grated out, grabbing her upper arms, pulling her up so that she could see the anguish play out on his face. “You’re the only thing I’ve ever wanted in this world and yet you’re the one thing I stand to lose. Do you have any idea how much this is tearing me apart? I can’t turn back, not now, I’ve come too far. He’ll kill us all if I fail. Not just me, but my mother, my father…I know the game he’s playing. He expects me to fail, he wants me to. But I can’t, not this time. I have to do this, me, not Snape! Don’t you see?” Her heart shattered as tears sprang into his eyes. “Either I lose them...or I lose you. Either way, my life is over. It’s over.”
As tears ran down his face, Hermione knew. For some reason, they had been thrown together. Two people who were never meant to be, and yet they were. Above everything else, this was real.
“No, Draco,” she whispered, reaching up to wipe away his tears. “You won’t lose me. We’ll get through this, somehow. I understand the situation you’ve been put into. No matter what you decide…I’ll be here. Do you understand? We will always have this, we’ll always have us. Never doubt that.”
She watched as her words sank in. He looked as though he wanted to say something, his haunted features taut, but he refrained. He finally nodded jerkily and pulled her into his arms, crushing her against him, sinking his face into her shoulder. She had never seen him so wrecked and could only imagine the pain he was going through. What if her parents were on the line? Could she say no, even if she wanted to? What if it was them versus Harry? What would she decide? It was too horrible to consider and her heart broke knowing it was a choice Draco had to make.
He pulled her back enough to look into her chocolate eyes. “How did this happen? How did our lives come to this?”
Hermione let out a soft, sad laugh. “Don’t ask me. One day I’m ten years old reading about scary witches from story books and now I’m in a secret school learning things I’d never have imagined in my wildest dreams, caught up in a magical war, trying to stay alive against an army of wizards who want me and my kind eradicated.”
She watched his features fall, the now familiar line between his brows deepen. His hands fell from her face and he stepped backward, sinking onto a table, his features hard, tremors wracking his body. His head hung and he gripped the edge of the table hard.
Guilt assailed her as she played back the words she’d just said. The mark on his arm proved which side of the war he was one, the one opposite her. He was obviously torn up about his role and she’d gone and thrown it in his face. Ashamed, she took a step forward.
“Draco…”
“Don’t. Please,” he grated out, not looking up. “Don’t say anything.”
She pressed her lips together, her curiosity burning within her. She watched silently as he warred with demons she would never understand. Suddenly nervous, she hugged herself, scared of the wedge she’d unknowingly driven between them. She had known from the beginning what he was, who he was. They’d come together despite their differences and now she was throwing it in his face, interrogating him, causing him even more pain. She didn’t know what to do or say and was mortified by her behavior. He had never asked her about Harry, had never probed, never forced her to reveal anything about the Order. All he’d ever done was give her pleasure, make her forget for a short time about her fears and anxieties. He taught her what it was to be wanted, to be held and cherished. And here she was using their intimacy against him.
He was silent for so long that she jumped when he stood, scrubbing his face and going to the window where the stars twinkled silently above them, high above the woes of those on the ground. He leaned his hands against the sill and Hermione watched as his breath fogged the glass. She ached to go to him, to apologize, but she dared not make a sound.
“How can you even look at me?” he finally croaked. Taken aback, Hermione turned, her hands dropping. She had expected him to rant at her, scream at her for breaking the sanctity of their agreement. But the pain in his voice made her heart ache.
“Draco…”
“How can you even stand to be in my presence? How can you look me in the eyes, bear my touch? How can you allow me to take you, give yourself to me, after all that I’ve done? After everything I represent? Can you even imagine the thoughts that have gone through my head about you?” He turned and looked at her finally, wretched. “The first time I knew what you were, a Mudblood, I wanted to set you on fire, to tear you apart and send my father the pieces so he would be proud. I was so disgusted I wrote home begging to be sent to Durmstrang where I wouldn’t have to live amongst your kind. I dreamed about that basilisk dragging you down into the depths of the chambers to rid myself of your presence. I could hardly stand to be near you and all the other Muggle-borns in this school. You sickened me. You were all defiling my castle, stealing magic that wasn’t yours. I remember working so hard in my classes so I could help my father one day; help him scrape the scum of you from our perfect world. You didn’t belong here.”
Hermione was shocked at the words he spewed, the conviction behind them. She had known he’d hated her, but he had been a child…had he truly wished her dead?
“And yet at every turn, you beat me. First by befriending Potter, who scorned me, resulting in my first failure. I was supposed to befriend him, bring him onto our side, show him what it truly meant to be a wizard. With him by my side, we would show the world that You-Know-Who was right all along; even The Boy Who Lived understood the dangers of Muggle-borns. But no, he was friends with a son of a traitor and a Mudblood.” He scoffed. “My father was furious. My first month in this place and I had failed him. He was a Gryffindor, unreachable, forever surrounded by families of those who fought so hard to keep your lot alive. I couldn’t understand it. I didn’t get how a Pureblooded wizard from such prestigious lines could soil himself with the likes of you. Didn’t he see what he was doing? Tainting his name with the enemy?”
As Hermione held her silence, stunned to be hearing these proclamations, Draco began to pace. She watched him, every muscle tense, worried he might turn on her at any moment and pounce.
“And then there you were, top of the class, beating me in every test, mastering spells far beyond my skill level, far beyond anyone our age. You couldn’t imagine what it was like for the rest of us to struggle with the simplest of spells while you just whipped out charms like they were second nature. It confused me, how could this Muggle who had stolen magic be better than a Pureblood? Then the confusion turned to anger, the anger to conviction. I had to figure out how you could do it, how you could possibly be better than me.”
He finally stopped, leaning his hands against a desk. With his back bowed it seemed like he was unable to bear the weight of his words, as if the world was suddenly too heavy to carry any longer. He let out a sardonic scoff, shaking his head.
“I threw myself into research. You were proving everything I knew wrong. And the more I read, the more scared I became. Everything I had ever known was falling apart. There was no research whatsoever to prove that Muggle-borns stole magic. Magic is woven into a person, it’s in their blood, their cells, their soul. How could you steal that? In fact, it was proven that Muggle-borns could actually trace their heritage to a witch or a wizard, no matter how far back. It crops up randomly again, though I’m sure you know all of this already. You’ve read every damn book in the library.”
She couldn’t help but return his small, sad smile. He finally straightened up, looking at her. The pain in his features made her ache. Pity for his plight welled in her chest.
“How could my father lie to me all those years? How could he sit there and murder his own people? How could he torture someone just because their parents couldn’t do magic? Muggle-borns…are no different than us. Except for their parents. And if they could be prosecuted simply because of that…then where did that leave me? What chance did I have of ever becoming anything if my own parents were murderers and traitors to their own kind?”
“Oh, Draco…” she whispered, stepping toward him. But he shook his head and she stopped. He couldn’t meet her eye.
“No, don’t. Don’t pity me. I can see it in your eyes. And that is the most painful part. All these years, everything I’ve put you through, even after I knew…and you pity me. Because that’s who you are. No matter how hard things are for you, no matter what happens to you, it never fazes you. You were always so invincible, standing by Potter even though in doing so you were being dragged through hell. You took everything I threw at you with a smile and a shrug, standing up for others without blinking an eye, putting your life on the line for them. Anyone. Even me.”
He looked at her then, locking eyes, turning her into a statue beneath his penetrating gaze. “You would be murdered on the spot if anyone found out about us, you know that right? I would be tortured, an outcast, but they can’t lose me, not with how few Purebloods are left. But you…you’re dispensable…more than that. You’re wanted. You’re hunted. And do you know why?”
Hermione couldn’t do more than shake her head. She was hugging herself again to stop the tremors that wracked her body from his words. Fear flooded her from the look in his eyes. She realized that she probably didn’t want to know…
“Because of me. They know who you are, how powerful you are, what a threat you pose…because of me. I told them. I told them everything about you. I wanted nothing more than to see you destroyed. Until it was too late.”
Emotions slammed through her at his admission. Fear, betrayal, anger, resentment… But as she watched the tears well up in his eyes those feelings lost their grip and slid through her body and onto the floor, replaced by something else she couldn’t quite grasp, but which left her breathless nonetheless.
“I’m so sorry, Hermione,” he choked out, the words thick through the tears and pain. “I’m so sorry. I can’t tell you how sorry I am. I can never rescind my actions, I know that. But I swear to you, I swear, I don’t believe those things anymore, I don’t believe my father and I don’t want to follow the Dark Lord. I would do anything, anything, to undo the damage that I’ve done. But I can’t.” His lips quivered and tears streamed down his face in wretched turmoil and Hermione could feel her own tears welling. “I can’t. It’s gone too far, I’ve gone too far to turn away. They’ll never let me go. Pureblood or not, they’ll murder me and everyone I love if I leave. There’s too much at stake, too many people who would suffer if I abandoned. And I can’t put anyone else in danger. I already endangered you, the one person I truly care for in this world. And there’s nothing I can do to fix it.”
Her tears fell; she could no longer hold them back. She wanted to comfort him, but she didn’t know how. He seemed so far away, so untouchable. She’d had no idea, no clue of the lies he’d been fed, the agony he must have gone through learning the truth. The strength he must have to do what he had to do to survive, to save his family. The courage it must have taken him to admit these things to her. The compassion that welled inside him for her, hidden all these years, locked away for her protection.
So because words seemed so inadequate, she said nothing, but moved towards him. He watched her, still as a statue, misery marring his usually guarded face.
She stopped inches from him, having to cock her head up to maintain eye contact. With all of her Gryffindor courage, she reached up and placed her hands on either side of his face, her thumbs catching two more tears which cascaded down. His composure shattered and he sobbed as she brought his face down to hers and kissed him softly, stroking his face with her thumbs, digging her fingers into his hair, pulling him into her body until he broke down and wrapped his arms around her, dragging her to his chest. He wept desolately as she destroyed him with her forgiveness. She kissed him deeper, not minding the salty tears or snot, determined to show him how much his transition meant to her. After all he had been through, everything he’d been taught, he’d made it through all odds and proved with every touch what person he wanted to be. For her.
She felt him collapsing, the weight of his anguish dragging him down, so she lowered them slowly to the floor, her mouth never leaving his. They knelt before each other, hands clutching, needing, taking, giving. He muttered “I’m sorry,” over and over again into her hair, onto her cheek, against her lips. She took his words knowing he needed to give them, and accepted them, showing him with her body. Hermione felt every barrier she’d ever built around this man dissolve into the cold air around them, driving it away.
Their actions slowed, cooled. She dragged his head into the crook of her shoulder and just held him, felt his strong arms clutching her to his chest.
“Stay with me tonight,” he whispered.
“Draco…”
“Please.”
The desperation in his voice stamped down her fear and she nodded. There was no one here, no one to miss her. What harm could it cause?
He rose, taking her hand in his and her heart thudded in her chest as he led her out of the room, undid their barriers, and dragged her through the freezing corridors. Instead of going down towards the dungeons he led her up and she followed without question although curiosity burned in her chest. She clung to his arm with her spare hand and worried her bottom lip, her eyes and ears straining for anyone who might be about, anyone who might catch them and plunge them into a world of danger. She would never tell him, but after what he’d admitted about her being hunted she was more frightened than she’d ever been.
When he stopped outside of the familiar stretch of wall on the seventh floor, she waited patiently as he strode back and forth three times, remembering the last time she’d seen him here, last year when he’d very nearly gotten her and her friends expelled. Everything had changed.
A wooden door appeared and he took her hand again and led her inside. The room he’d created was warm and cozy, the only light coming from a low fire. A soft bed was accompanied by an intimate seating area and a cabinet in the corner. Dark wood panels lined the room and thick carpet beckoned beneath her shoes.
Draco turned her to him and kissed her softly, slowly disrobing her. She went to work on his clothes as well, not hurrying, and wondering why he didn’t sneak his hands down to her awaiting crevice. But she didn’t question, just allowed him to lead her to the bed where he lifted her and tucked her beneath the thick covers. He rounded the bed and entered on the other side, slipping beneath the sheets himself and pulling her close, tucking her head under his chin and kissing her softly on the forehead. Her hear swelled and her lids lowered, her entire body plait and more comfortable than she’d ever been in her life. She squeezed him tight and sighed as he played with her hair softly.
She drifted to sleep to the crackle of the flames in the grate and the sound of his heart beneath her ear.

***

XOXO

RynStar15
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Until Again