Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Never Mine	By : RynStar15 Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 21248 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or the characters therein and do not make any money or intend any copyright infringement by placing them here.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
- 6
My lungs seared from holding my breath. I closed my eyes and willed myself to shrink further back between the statue of Gregory the Smarmy and the wall, the small alcove shadowing me from view. The well-meaning Ravenclaw was chirruping about how I had collapsed as she led a worried looking Professor Sprout around the corner. Every muscle in my body was taut as they hurried past, not even glancing in my direction.
I didn't have much time, they would realize I was missing and come looking for me, possibly alert others. Sneaking out from behind the stone figure, I slithered silently down the hall and ducked through the nearest tapestry; a shortcut that would lead me down two floors right outside the Prefects bathroom.
For the first in my life I hated the grand scale of Hogwarts castle. There was so much space between me and my destination. My heart pounded as I thought of the possibility of not getting there on time.
What if he was gone before I could stop him?
…
Two months, one week and five days earlier…
"Hermione?"
My head snapped up so fast my neck cricked. I rubbed at the sore spot and glared at Harry.
"Did you hear me?"
"Sorry, Harry, I wasn't listening," I apologized, wiping the irritated glare from my face. It wasn't his fault I was daydreaming. Again. "What did you say?"
"I asked if you knew what the seventh ingredient to Veritaserum was."
"Hellibore," I answered offhandedly, returning to my own essay. I had finished it hours ago having worked on it all night, but the boys needn't know that. I snuck a glance at them; Harry was hastily scribbling down what I had told him and Ron was chewing on the tip of his quill, his brows furrowed.
"Ron, get that out of your mouth, you'll be pulling feathers out of your teeth at breakfast tomorrow," I sighed. He did so without even looking my way and leaned over the coffee table the two were using for a writing surface, adding something to his parchment. I looked down at my completed essay and for the life of me could not remember what I had written. Sighing, I rolled up the parchment and sealed it with a tap of my wand. Harry and Ron looked up.
"Are you done already?" Ron asked, astonished. I gave him a look as if to say, do you really need to ask? He grumbled and returned to the three measly paragraphs he had so far produced. Stuffing the scroll in my bag, I opened the book I had used to write my own essay on (or at least pretended to) and tried to look engrossed, but my mind wouldn't cooperate. It kept floating back to Malfoy where he was locked away in a tiny room at Headquarters like a dog. I found it hard to think of anything but, and the fact that I knew he could enter my mind at any given moment disturbed me to no end. I'd spent all of yesterday buried inside books; poring over old tomes about Occlumency and they all said the same thing: you had to have eye contact. Then how the bloody hell had Malfoy managed it from hundreds of miles away?
Voldemort had done it with Harry, yes, alright, but that was a completely different situation! Not only was he much more powerful than Draco Malfoy, but they had that uncanny connection he had unwillingly forged when he'd tried to kill Harry as a baby.
So how was Malfoy doing it?
"Hermione!"
"What?"
"What do you do after you stew the Scurry Grass?" Ron asked exasperatedly.
"Honestly, don't you two pay attention at all? Where are your books?"
"Slughorn took them, remember?" Ron said slowly, and he and Harry looked at me oddly. I nearly winced at my mistake. Of course he had, the assignment was to see how much they could remember without the book so he had confiscated every copy in the castle and locked them in his office.
I sighed. "Cut the Hemloch into four centimeter bits and stir counter-clockwise for seven minutes."
"You're the greatest friend a bloke could have," he grinned and I rolled my eyes.
Fifteen minutes later I couldn't stand it anymore. I was so restless I couldn't sit still and the boys were starting to notice. I darted out of my seat and was about to make a beeline for the library for some more research when Tamara Hadley, a sweet second year, hurried up to me.
"Professor McGonagall asked me to give you this," she gasped, obviously having just run the entire way to the common room to deliver the message.
"Thank you, Tammy," I said brightly, watching the young girl light up with pride. "How did that History of Magic exam go?"
"Great! I remembered all about Ulric the Oddball and didn't even mix him up with Emeric the Ugly! Thank you so much for helping me!"
"Any time. I'm glad it came out well," I replied, suppressing the urge to correct the girl in her mistake. "Did you need more help with your Transfiguration homework?"
"No, it's pretty straightforward. Everyone seems to think McGonagall is really hard, but I think she makes a lot of sense."
I smiled at this. "I do too. Now, go get started on that homework, I don't want you up all night like last week."
"I won't!"
She scurried off and I felt a warm glow. The girl was smart; she simply had trouble staying on task, much like my two friends. I laughed softly when I noticed Tamara's gang gathering around her and listening in awe while sneaking glances my way. They all had a dream to be Head Girl and I had fallen in as their role model.
Ron snorted behind me. I glared at him. He was just jealous that these girls looked up to me instead of ogling him for being the Gryffindor Keeper hero.
Turning away from my immature friend, I slit open the red Hogwarts seal and quickly scanned the letter. My heart went into palpitations and I had to read it several times to believe what I was seeing. A small, triumphant smile crossed my face and I hurried toward the portrait hole.
"Oi, where are you going?" Ron yelled as I skittered around the table at a dead run for the exit.
"McGonagall wants to see me," I explained briefly and dove past the Fat Lady.
Professor Flitwick reminded me to slow down as befitting my station when I nearly bowled him over flying around a corner. I apologized profusely and slowed to a brisk walk until I had rounded the next corner, then broke into a run again. I slid to a halt outside the familiar gargoyles and took a moment to catch my breath, a smile still plastered stupidly on my face. Closing my eyes, I took a few deep breaths and reminded myself why I was called to this situation.
I am mature, I am in control of my emotions. I am the brightest witch of the age.
And I am goddamn right.
At the top of the staircase my face was a mask of calm inquisitiveness. When the headmistress opened the door at my soft knock I bid her good evening as she summoned me into the room.
"You wished to see me, Professor?" I asked innocently as McGonagall sank onto her chair behind the large mahogany desk, gesturing for me to do the same.
"Yes, I have a proposition for you."
"Concerning Draco Malfoy?"
She eyed me warily over her spectacles which I knew would take the exact markings around her eyes when she transformed into her Animagus.
"Yes, Miss Granger. We were hoping you could tutor young Malfoy."
I waited patiently for her to finish. She sighed.
"I can see you are somewhat skeptical."
"Forgive me." Yes, alright, I had mentioned going back to school to Malfoy the other day, but I hadn't actually been serious, and I'd never dreamed I would be tasked with the damn thing.
"No, this was why we picked you."
"We-?"
"The Order," she explained. The Order. The Order wanted me to tutor Malfoy. I struggled not to huff in annoyance. After all the missions, the battles, the hunts and raids, and now they want me to teach Malfoy Ancient Runes?
When I still looked confused, McGonagall removed her glasses and rubbed her temples in an exhausted gesture I had never before seen her do. It seemed the weight of being a teacher and Headmistress as well as a vital member of the Order was finally starting to wear on the aging woman.
"We have recently come across some information which gives us no small amount of unease," she began, bringing the spectacles up for inspection, then snatching her wand and tapping them, clearing away gathered dust and debris before replacing them. She turned her sharp eyes to me once more. "The Death Eaters appear to be very interested in retrieving young Master Malfoy. Inexplicably so."
My brows crinkled with this information. I had figured Malfoy's parents would be concerned and Voldemort likely livid at his defection but, by the tightness of McGonagall's lips, it seemed the Dark Lord was overly concerned with the whereabouts of one rebellious teenager.
"Aren't there other things they should be worrying about instead?" I asked. Perhaps the fact that with help of the Order, Harry, Ron and I had hunted up the remaining Horcruxes and disposed of them?
"That's what we believed and had expected the initial search would wane. However, it seems to only have strengthened. The Death Eaters are keeping posts outside Headquarters at all times, not to mention the ones stationed in Hogsmeade and several other safe houses. Dementors are scouring Great Britain for a scent of him, and the entire wizarding world is draped with pictures of the boy."
She reached for something beneath the parchment she'd been writing on and dropped a copy of the Evening Prophet in front of me. I had yet to receive mine and a glance at the clock behind the headmistress told me she got hers early. I pulled it to me, my brows rising in horror.
Draco's face stared out at me with an expression I had never seen; a terrifying, hideous contortion of rage. His wand was griped tightly in his fist as the picture-Draco raised it, a shower of white falling around him and what seemed to be a shock wave boomed from him. The headline read Dangerous Criminal Wanted for Crimes Against Humanity. A ball of horror and dread gathered in my throat, threatening to choke me as I read the article that followed.
"This can't be true," I whispered, my shaky hand dropping the paper on the desk before me. "Professor?"
I wouldn't believe it, couldn't believe that he had killed these people, that he had committed these atrocities. No, it wasn't possible…
"We do not know for sure, but we believe that it is a cleanly devised plan for the Death Eaters to obtain him."
"Why? What could they possibly want with him? Do we even know if he's actually a Death Eater?"
"We do not. Even if he is, it is now our duty to keep him safe."
"Then shouldn't he moved? If they're guarding Headquarters?"
"At the moment, they do not seem to be aware of which safehouse he's staying in, or even if he is. It would be precarious to attempt to move him now while we are under such scrutiny and we simply do not have the resources to mount such a feat."
My mind whirled with possibilities. "But…he can't be that important, he's barely of age! Why would they go to so much trouble for one lowly follower?"
McGonagall leaned across the desk, her blue eyes shining. "Why, indeed. That is why we require you, Miss Granger."
"Me?" I asked incredulously. I had figured she'd asked me here to discuss "Mr. Malfoy's current predicament" because he was finally breaking out of his shell and ready to come back to Hogwarts. The exhausted look on my mentor's face told me differently.
"You will go to Headquarters three times a week and tutor Mr. Malfoy. In doing so, we need you to gather any information about him that you can."
I could see the strain lines etching McGonagall's tired face. It was obvious she did not ask this of me lightly. If Malfoy had truly done even one of the horrible things mentioned in that paper, I could likely be placed in an incredibly dangerous situation. Apparently, I had severely underestimated my former classmate.
"What information do you need?" I would never let her down. If the Order needed me to do something, I would. It wasn't even a question.
"See if you can determine whether he has taken the Mark, what information he has about their operations. We need to find out why the Death Eaters have been so desperate to get to the poor boy. Dumbledore wanted to help him; he must have known something we do not. I trust Dumbledore even now. Mr. Malfoy is hiding something and I have a feeling this something could be essential to our victory. We need that information, Miss Granger. Do you understand?"
"Yes, of course, Professor."
"Good. Then I suppose you should get to it, we won't get away with hiding him for much longer. I have taken the liberty of collecting all the books you will need. Do not give him an option in this."
McGonagall waved her hand to a heavy satchel on the floor. I swallowed thickly and picked it up, turning for the fireplace.
"We're counting on you, Hermione."
It was the first time in all my years at Hogwarts that I could remember her addressing me by my given name. Pride surged through me and I gave her a reassuring smile.
"Don't worry about anything, Professor. I'll get you what you need."
Tossing the green powder into the grate, I stepped in and called for Headquarters. Upon landing, Tonks looked up from the steaming kettle Levitating before her at the counter and smiled.
"Been waiting. Tea?"
"No, thank you," I replied. It seemed I was the last to know about this whole ordeal. "Has he-?"
"Not a peep," she answered, carrying the mug to a thick book lying open at the kitchen table. "But that's what you're here for, isn't it?"
"It appears so," I said, the heavy bag weighing me down so that I was forced to hike it further up on my shoulder.
"Here, bring an ice breaker," Tonks suggested, rounding the counter again, her left elbow knocking over the still hot tea kettle. I hurried forward to help when Tonks hissed in pain but the kettle was airborne and two Butterbeers were being thrust in my hands before I could even lift my wand.
"Take these and go before I burn down the kitchen," the clumsy Auror chuckled. I shook my head and gave my thanks, making my way up the stairs and out of sight of the bouncy young woman. By the time I reached Draco's floor, my lungs, back, and legs were screaming from the effort it took to carry an entire seventh year's N.E.W.T materials and two full drinks up a hundred or more stairs. I had to catch my breath at the top-floor landing and shifted both drinks to one hand so I could open the door.
It was locked.
Grunting in frustration, I dug out my wand from the inside pocket of my robes and whispered "Alohamora!"
It didn't budge.
"Malfoy, open the door," I commanded. Not a sound answered. Curious, I muttered a Revealing Charm and noticed the light blue sheen that declared a Silencing Spell had been used as well as a block on the handle. It had seemed along with long-range Legilimency, ,Malfoy had been taught wandless magic. Rolling my eyes, I tried a few more unlocking spells and finally stumbled upon the correct one, the door swinging in of its own accord.
"Evening, Malfoy," I greeted, noticing that, for the first time, a lamp was lit and the room was not its usual dark, dank hole. The smell of body odor had gone and the air was simply a bit musty. A cleanly-shaven Malfoy looked up from the bed where an old Daily Prophet was open in his lap. His lips curled in an unpleasant snarl as he glared up at me.
"How did you get in here, Granger? Haven't I told you you're not welcome?"
"A simple counter to the Enemy Deterrence Charm did the trick, and you have indeed told me several times that I am not welcome. Butterbeer?"
Before he could say anything, I shoved the drink into his hands and dropped the heavy bag at the foot of his bed. He eyed it wearily and I began digging out the large books, tumbling them one by one onto the bedclothes.
"What the bloody hell is all this, Granger?"
"Your textbooks, of course."
"My textbooks? I was not under the impression that I attended Hogwarts any longer."
"Well, like I said the other day, under the circumstances, you cannot attend Hogwarts, but it is the Order's wish that you continue your studies anyway. Tonight will be the first of our tutoring sessions, so I suggest you pick a subject and we shall begin as it's been a very long day and I would like to get some rest."
"Then go."
"Not a chance, Malfoy. You're not getting out of this."
"Granger, there is no way in hell-"
"You really don't have an option, Malfoy," I snapped. "If you wish to stay here under our protection you will follow our rules. Or do you want to return to dear old dad?"
His face paled from its unusually sickly grey and his body sunk a fraction of an inch. It seemed he was not nearly so blithe when it came to returning him to the Death Eaters as he would have me believe. "Then find someone else because I refuse to be stuck seeing your bushy head every day."
"It is only three times a week and I was who they chose. We shall have to suffer through this together, I'm afraid."
"This is complete bullshite!" he thundered. I was a bit startled by his violent outburst of anger, an image of him screaming in rage surrounded by lightening flickering across my vision, but I quickly composed myself.
"Look, Malfoy, neither of us have a choice in this so you might as well get used to it."
"Why you? Out of every fucking seventh year there is, why did they have to choose you?"
I would never admit that the barb stung. "Gee, I don't know, Malfoy. Maybe because I'm the only seventh year besides Harry and Ron who knows you're here? Or possibly because I'm the head of our class? It couldn't possibly be because I am the only person in the entire Order who has enough patience to deal with you for more than five minutes?"
He was silent for a moment while I fumed. I closed my eyes and breathed in. Out. Calm.
"Look, we don't have to fight all the time. See this as an opportunity. We'll get you caught up and you'll be able to take your N.E.W.T's in June. With any luck, you'll be able to secure a stable job once this damnable war is over."
He shook his head, a sneer on his lips. "Don't you understand, Granger? When this war is over there will be nothing left. Do you really think Potter can defeat the greatest wizard there ever was?"
I straightened my back. "I never suggested he was to take on Dumbledore. I do, however, have every faith that Harry can rid us of Tom Riddle once and for all."
He laughed; a cruel sound that rang around the sparse room. "So naive, Granger. You'll never understand."
"Oh, really? Because I've never been in battle! I have never fought against Voldemort-"
"Don't say his name!" Draco hissed.
"Or what? He'll send his little cronies after me? News flash, Malfoy! He's already done that!"
"You really think you're so invincible, don't you?" he snarled, getting to his feet and staring me down. "You think if he really wanted you he wouldn't have you?"
"He's tried before and look where I'm standing."
"As I recall you weren't exactly fast enough on the upswing now were you, Granger?"
My jaw clenched and I fought against the memories. Most days I was able to push it to the back of my mind. Now, at his thoughtless reminder, the images crashed over me until they threatened to steal the very breath from my lungs. I swallowed several times, pushing back the stone walls and the screams and the pain and the terror. Breathe…
"And yet I'm still here, aren't I?" I grated out, as much for his sake as mine. I was here, safe, away from that terrible place. It couldn't touch me anymore, they couldn't touch me anymore.
He stared at me for an embarrassing amount of time in which I fought not to squirm beneath his scrutinizing gaze. He gave a slight nod. "I suppose you are."
Turning away from his burning contemplation, I spread out the book selection and cleared my throat. "So, what would you like to work on tonight?"
I felt his eyes on me for an endless moment longer before he started forward and reached for a book, his arm brushing against mine unnecessarily.
"Arithmancy it is," I said all too cheerily to cover up the fact that just a slight touch from him had me reeling and, damn him, the bastard knew it, a smirk curling on his lips.
When I conjured another chair so we could sit together at the desk, he snorted.
"Honestly, Granger? You don't have to babysit me. I have the books, now go on back to the cave from whence you crawled," he said scathingly.
"Oh, shove it, Malfoy!" I snapped, plopping down in an irritated huff. In an instant, my chair was tipped back dangerously low and he was leaning over me, his hands holding the back of the seat, the only reason I hadn't yet crashed to the floor. His face was inches from mine and his spearmint breath seared my cheek.
"You just don't get it, do you?" he growled. "What do I have to do to get it through that thick head of yours? If you know what's good for you, you'll leave now and never come back."
"You don't intimidate me, Malfoy, and I don't take advice about what is or is not good for me from someone who couldn't even bathe without my intervention," I replied, my voice strong and unwavering, though I was slightly nervous that he would drop the chair.
"Hygienic habits aside, you are correct in assuming that you have no reason to trust me," he said, and I sensed a strain in his words, a shiver running through me as his eyes narrowed, a look I'd never seen washing over him. "But for just this once, use that supposedly brilliant brain of yours and heed my advice. Stay away from me, Granger."
"Did you just say I was brilliant?" I grinned, goading him.
"Dammit, Granger! This isn't a joke! Mind a bit of self-preservation and stay away!"
"Why are you so damn adamant about pushing me out?" I snapped. "Why can't you see that I'm trying to help you?"
A dark look ghosted his pewter eyes. "I don't need help."
"Everyone needs help, Malfoy," I said softly, holding his gaze. "Let me be yours."
He was shocked into silence by my sincerity, his eyes searching mine and reading the truth there. He cursed lowly, looking away, his hands gripping the sides of the chair tighter on either side of me. I could feel the muscles cording in his forearms, see the tension in his stance. "You don't want to get involved with me."
"I hardly think tutoring-"
His lips were on mine, it was the first thing I registered. I gasped in absolute shock at this realization, warranting him to press tighter against my lips, to deepen the kiss, urging me into responding.
The second thought that hit me in quick succession was the strength and passion pouring between that small amount of contact; an overpowering sensation which barreled over me, immersing me in its intensity.
The third, and most terrifying, was that I wanted this, so much.
So I took and took and didn't think as his lips bruised mine and my senses lurched. My hands had left the arms of the chair and wrapped around his neck before I had any recollection of doing so. He groaned when my nails scraped against his tender flesh and I shuddered, a reaction which only spurred him into action, his tongue pressing into my mouth, twining with mine, rubbing against it possessively. For a few moments, all I knew was bliss and the heart stuttering excitement he wrought from me.
Then it all came crashing down, quite literally.
The legs of the chair hit the floor so hard all the bones in my body protested and I had to grip the sides so as not to fly off. Malfoy stumbled back against the desk, gaping at me with a look to equal the one which had likely crossed my face the first time I'd ran into Fluffy. We were both panting, confusion clawing its way into our rational as we both wondered what the fuck had just happened and why the fuck it had felt so good.
"Go," he finally croaked, his whole body trembling. "Go, now. Out, just get out."
I upset the chair in my haste as I ran for the door. The stairs flew up at me and I wondered wildly how sprinting from his room had become something of a hobby of mine.
"Hermione, what-"
I said nothing to Tonks who shot to her feet at my harried arrival but jumped into the flames and tumbled into Professor McGonagall's office, very nearly crashing to the floor in my haste to put as much distance between myself and what had just occurred as possible.
"I didn't expect you so early," McGonagall said, her eyebrows drawn as she eyed my disheveled appearance.
"Yes, well, I explained things and he seemed insistent on doing it on his own," I babbled, brushing myself off and straightening my uniform as if that could wipe away my glazed look and freshly-kissed lips. "I thought I'd give him a little room you know, a little space before I try again…"
She stared at me with hawk-like eyes for a brief moment before returning to the long parchment before her.
"We need that information, Miss Granger."
Guilt burned in my chest. "I understand, professor. I won't let you down."
I slipped into the nearest empty classroom I could find and leaned heavily against as desk. Eyes closed, I focused on my breathing and tried to push from my mind the only thing that seemed to exist anymore. Lips and tongue and heat and want…
Why?
The word raced through my brain over and over but no solution came to me. Was he just trying to shock me? Scare me into leaving him alone? Was it a spur of the moment thing, or premeditated?
And why, why in Merlin's name did I kiss him back? Did I feel something for him? No! Then why? Curiosity? Loneliness? Simple reaction?
The longer I paced there in the dark room, the chill of the evening seeping into my bones, the more anxious I became. Realizing the moon outside had risen considerably since my arrival in the deserted classroom; I started my trek back up to Gryffindor tower, trying to drive away the image that was seemingly burned onto my psyche.
Harry and Ron were lounged before the fire and a couple of third year boys were sitting in the corner leaning over something, but the common room was otherwise deserted. The young boys in the corner looked up with wide eyes and, as soon as they saw me, ran for their dormitories, their robes bulging with items they did not want me to see. I caught a glimpse of a bright purple box and shook my head. I was not in the mood to chase after them.
I turned back to my friends and my face fell. Upon further inspection, my two boys looked incredibly haggard.
"What's going on? What happened?" I asked, panic rising. Ron met my eyes and confirmed my fear. Something was wrong and his glance to the parchment on the table said all.
It was a letter from Lupin, ones we all feared. I took a quick second to look at Harry, whose head was in his hands, before picking it up with a shaky hand.
The words blurred together, horror gripping me as I read. There had been another raid, a bad one. The Death Eaters had killed a Muggle family of four in Brighton, not anything out of the ordinary, but when the Aurors showed up to investigate, they were ambushed. Every single one was killed. Order members eventually arrived and the disaster was incredible, but wasn't all. During the raid about a dozen Death Eaters tried to get into headquarters unsuccessfully. The list of casualties followed, among them Dedalus Diggle and Hestia Jones. My stomach twisted at the thought of the bouncy man and pink cheeked woman lying in a tomb somewhere, still. Their deaths weighed heavily on us all and I knew Harry would be taking it even harder than I.
"Harry-"
"This is your fault."
My heart might have actually stopped. "What?"
"Harry-" Ron started but he was cut off. Harry threw my copy of the Evening Prophet at me and I scrambled to catch hold of it as random sections scattered and fluttered to the floor. The wind was knocked out of me, not because of the strength with which the paper hit my chest, but because of the stinging accusation.
"You brought him to headquarters! None of this would have happened if you had just killed him like you were supposed to!" Harry thundered, gaining his feet and staring me down, his green eyes flashing with rage.
"Harry, I-"
"You are bang out of order, mate!" Ron yelled, shooting up and grabbing Harry by the bicep. Harry wrenched himself from the redhead's grip and rounded on me.
"You didn't give a second thought to any of the others you've killed, why him?" Harry cried.
"You know I would never-"
"Except that you did, Hermione! You brought this down on all of us! Hestia and Dedalus are dead, dead! And so are countless others! And why?"
"Harry-"
"Because you think you can fix everybody! You think you can turn everyone into perfect little clones of yourself!" he raged, his cheeks flaming. Ron tried to pull him back as he advanced on me and I backed away in utter, utter terror. "Not everyone is good, Hermione! How many times have I said it? How many people have to die before you realize that this is real life, not some silly story you read before bedtime where the good guys always win and the bad guys realize the wrong they've done?"
"Harry, please-"
My entire body shook as he loud out a howl of frustration. Ron dove between us and Harry bowed around his lanky form to continue through gritted teeth. "Some people are just bad, Hermione! What the hell don't you understand? This is a fucking war!"
"Harry, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean-"
"What did you mean, Hermione?" Harry roared, still struggling with a red-faced Ronald. "What did you possibly think could come of this?"
"That is enough!" Ron yelled, shoving our raven-haired friend backwards as I wrapped my arms around my body, the Evening Prophet strewn around me, drowning me with its painful allegations. Tears threatened and my heart ached with a betrayal I could never have imagined.
"Do you see that fucking article? Do you? He's murdered hundreds, hundreds! He is evil, Hermione, and he's fooled you! If you can't take care of him then I will!"
Harry shoved Ron so hard he crashed to the ground. Without looking at me, he stepped over his groaning friend and flew for the door. I couldn't move, my entire body was shaking so hard. A loud bang! sounded throughout the room and I nearly jumped out of my skin. Harry hit the floor and Ron was standing, his wand drawn, breath puffing between his lips. He stared at his hand as if shocked for a moment before hurrying forward, taking my upper arms in his long fingers as my knees gave out.
"Hermione, don't listen to him, you know how he gets," Ron huffed as he sank with me, lowering me gently to the ground. A hard ball was lodged in my chest, making it hard to breathe. How could he accuse me of something like that? Surely, he knew that everything I did was for the Order, for him? Ever since I'd met the misfit pair on the train, my entire life had been revolved around them. Harry had always come to me for help and I could always give him a solution. He had leaned on me in our battle for the Philosopher's Stone, during the Triwizard Tournament, when we searched for the Horcruxes. He came to me to destroy them when he couldn't bear to do it. After everything we had been through together, everything I had endured to keep him safe, he was ready to doubt my intentions?
"I didn't mean for any of this to happen," I said weakly. "How could he believe I would ever do anything to put the Order in danger?"
"He doesn't, you know that!" Ron cajoled, brushing my hair back from my face with a sweaty hand. "He was just upset when he read the letter, that's all. I'll take him upstairs and put him to bed, he'll come 'round in the morning."
I nodded; it was all I could do. I vaguely heard Ron offer me assistance to stand but I declined it. I didn't think my feet would hold me yet. I watched in a haze as Ron Levitated Harry's limp body up the staircase leading to the boy's dormitory. Once he was out of view, I gathered the offending papers, chucked them into the dying fire, and dragged myself up the girl's staircase. Disgusted with myself, I burrowed beneath my covers without undressing and shook until my tired muscles finally eased me to sleep.
...

XOXO
RynStar15
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