Undefined

Chapter 20

Inevitably Inevitable

Draco scratched furiously through his essay in the library, fuming and cursing under his breath. He paused for a moment, his quill suspended mid-air before drawing in a deep breath and continuing. Aconite is an extremely poisonous plant that is also referred to as monkshood because of the shape of the flowers somewhat resembles a monk's...Had he finally gotten the nerve to speak to Harry after months of silence, but had done so in the form of an insult? His face burned and his insides squirmed wretchedly as he recalled the look on Harry's face: all crestfallen and dark and seeming ready to hex Draco within an inch of his life. His resolve had completely vanished as he glided out of Potions, his bag hitting his legs as he pushed through the students, wanting to scream and punch the wall with his bare fist when he turned the corner.

However much he wanted and needed to fix what he'd done, he found he was totally at a loss of how to do so, and his heart once again grew heavy and his throat constricted at the mere thought of Harry. If only he could talk to Hermione...and suddenly that was the only thing in the world he wanted to do. He feverishly finished his essay, scribbling out half sentences and selected words from the texts stacked beside him and quickly exited, ignoring Madam Pince's demands that he place his books by the door as was customary for students after pulling them from the shelves.

As soon as he stood in the fourth floor corridor, he felt at a loss regarding how to contact her. He considered trekking to the Owlery to send a message, but it seemed too much of a waste of time given he was due for lessons with Snape in less than half an hour. Instead, he held his head high, pulled his bag upon his shoulder and marched to the seventh floor, standing outside the portrait leading to the Gryffindor common room. He waited for a few moments until the Portrait swung open and a short third-year girl exited.

"Is Granger around?" he barked. The girl stopped and looked at him wide-eyed, finally nodding slowly. "I need a word. Go on, then! Hurry up! I don't have all day!"

The girl stumbled back through the portrait and a few moments later Hermione emerged, followed by the short girl.

"It's ok, Cassandra," Hermione said quietly, and the girl walked cautiously away, glancing over her shoulder the whole time as though expecting Draco to hex Hermione.

"Well, you made a right mess of things," Hermione whispered before walking past him, and he quickly followed, tailing her to the fifth floor where they entered the empty Prefect's bathroom.

"What on earth were you thinking?" Hermione shrilled, water dripping loudly from one of the bathtub faucets.

"I wasn't," Draco said quickly.

"That much is clear. It took me hours to convince Harry you didn't mean to insult him and that it just happened to come across that way because you were too apprehensive to talk to him properly."

Draco bowed his head and nodded, too ashamed to look her in the eye.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, don't sulk! That won't do any good now!"

"What do I do, Hermione?" he asked desperately.

She folded her arms and appraised him a moment before speaking. "You're going to have to get up the gumption and talk to him properly; the first words out of your mouth being 'I'm very, very sorry, Harry.' Think you can manage that without messing it up?"

Draco nodded.

"Are you certain?" Hermione said, her eyes boring into his.

"Yes," he said, feeling as though he had no choice in the matter. If it didn't clear up soon he would go mad, the uncomfortable mix of anxiety and hopelessness were wearing him down after so many months.

"Good. Obviously, you're too scared to approach him on your own so tomorrow morning after breakfast I'll stall Harry and Ron just outside the Great Hall by fixing a strap on my bag. I'll tell Ron not to say anything to Harry so he won't be distracted when you see him. You'll walk out as soon as you see us leave and then, when you see Harry standing there, not talking to anyone, not distracted in any way at all, you'll say..."

"I'm very, very sorry, Harry."

She smiled. "Excellent. If you don't show up, so help me God, I will come after you and hex you into next week. Do you understand?" Draco nodded. "Good, we should be off then, God knows what Ron's letting Fred and George get away with in the common room..."

I'll do it tomorrow, I'll do it tomorrow, Draco thought as he walked to the dungeons. I'll just get it over with; Hermione's got it all sorted out.

"First Potter, then the Mudblood?" Katrina tutted from a dark corner near the first floor landing. "It seems you are acquiring a soft spot for Mudbloods and blood traitors."

"It's none of your fucking business," Draco said coldly.

"I'm afraid it is; sneaking off into the Forbidden Forest, meeting Granger in the Prefect's bathroom, honestly, I thought you would have had better sense than to consort with the likes of her," Katrina said, her voice cold as ice.

"I'm not fucking her if that's what you think."

"No? Hmmm, what a shame. She's quite pretty when she tries. But I guess all that doesn't matter as long as she's willing to spread her legs."

Draco's insides shook furiously at Katrina's shrill laugh and cold eyes. No wonder, he thought as Katrina continued to laugh, no wonder Hermione hates the likes of us.

"You can believe what you like," Draco said, "but my business is my business outside"--he dropped his voice to barely above a whisper--"of the O.S.! You can tail me all you like, and create fantasies telling yourself it's all true but you know damn well they aren't."

He pushed past her and she quickly followed him to Snape's office, entering immediately behind him and pushing past him.

"Sir, it's the Mudblood! It's the Mudblood he's been involved with all this time," she said triumphantly.

"How singularly interesting, Ms. Hillquist, now if you don't mind, this is a private lesson between Mr. Malfoy and myself, and I would be most appreciative if you would please leave."

She looked aghast before walking out, the door slamming hard behind her.

"I won't bother asking if it's true," Snape said, "nor will I bother to ask why you were in the Forbidden Forest last night as I have no way of knowing if you are lying or not. However, pray you keep such activities buried as deeply as possible, or else you may find yourself at the bottom of the Black Lake."

Immediately after his lesson that evening, the weight of what was to come once again pressed against his chest like a vice. Draco fell asleep with the words I'm sorry running constantly through his head until it turned into a sort of mantra in his attempt to ready himself for the following morning. He awoke, the mantra still humming in his head, forgetting whether or not he had washed his hair as he showered, then did so, not caring whether it was the third or fourth or fifth time so long as he convinced himself to approach Harry and talk to him properly that morning.

He walked into the Great Hall, his hair still damp and his shirt and tie haphazard, dumping his bag at the Slytherin table and eating a breakfast that consisted purely of toast, his stomach feeling as though it contained several large pixies zooming about at the speed of light. He glanced at Hermione and Ron constantly, fidgeting in his seat, his legs twitching and his arms unable to stay still.

Finally, after what seemed like several hours, Hermione gave him a hard, blazing look as she gathered her things and walked out, followed by Ron and Harry. OK, OK, OK, OK, OK, he thought, shoving the last bit of toast in his mouth and grabbing his bag. OK? OK! OK...OK? OK?!!! He walked out the doors, turned the corner and saw Hermione fidgeting with the strap of her bag, Ron beside her with his hands in his pockets, making a point not to talk to Harry.

Harry stood alone, staring off at a far wall, his left arm crossed across his chest holding onto the strap of his bag, his stance resigned and miserable, his face looking so sad and lovely in the morning sun. Hermione shot Draco a murderous look as he walked slowly towards Harry.

"Harry," Draco said very quietly.

Harry snapped out of his trance and turned his eyes to Draco's. It was the first time he'd been in such close proximity to Harry in months; he nearly forgot what he was supposed to say until Ron cleared his throat loudly.

"Look, I'm...I'm sorry about yesterday," he said, as a group of Ravenclaws passed, their conversation adding the noise level Draco needed to continue, "and for ... well ... everything."

Harry gave him a hard look before turning his back on him and folding his arms. Draco stood uncertainly, and then moved on, Hermione flashing him a proud smile as he went, his brain singing a chorus of hallelujahs as he ascended the staircase.

He found it easier to approach Harry in the following days, his spirits rising beyond all expectations every time he said sorry or please forgive me or she meant absolutely nothing in whispers at every possible moment. A few days later he went a bit farther, telling Harry Pansy was the worst thing that ever happened to me, which elicited a small smile.

"He's starting to talk more," Hermione told him in the library late one night. "You may think it's doing no good, but he seems to be coming 'round a bit."

After two weeks, Draco's happiness soon turned to bitterness when Harry still refused to speak to him. He didn't know how often or how many more ways he could say sorry without so much as a nod of the head. Even a fight would be preferable to Harry's aloofness.

"I thought you said he was coming 'round," Draco said to Hermione in the library, which had become a customary meeting point for them in the evenings.

"He is," she said, looking very tired, "but it's going to take time! He's not going to just forget."

"I'm not asking him to forget," Draco snapped, "I'm asking him to at least say something!"

An unknown voice hushed him from somewhere deep within the stacks, and Draco almost told the person to 'fuck off.'

"Please, just give him a little more time," Hermione begged.

"Patience is not my strong point," Draco said impatiently.

Time passed slowly over the next few days, Draco begrudgingly agreeing to talk to Harry, but quickly losing his temper when he still elicited no response from him. His days became a blur of day and night lessons, homework, reading, and fitful nights of restless sleep. By the time Harry had come 'round to approaching Draco, he was so fed up with the previous weeks he was no mood to reciprocate.

"Hermione reckons I should talk to you," Harry said on the second floor corridor.

"Oh does she? Well, it's about fucking time!"

"There's no need to be rude," Harry said rudely.

"I don't really give a fuck what you think, Potter," Draco said, his nerves shot beyond recognition. "It's taken you damn long enough to talk to me after all my attempts!"

"Well, I'm not the one who fucked Pansy, am I?" Harry snapped.

"Oh great, throw that in my face! That's a great way to soften me up!"

Harry stomped away without a backwards glance. Draco seriously considered hexing him but thought better of it when Professor Flitwick turned the corner.

"Hermione's nearing a breakdown," Ron told Draco later that evening in the Room of Requirement after Ron'd demanded a private meeting earlier that day. Unlike Hermione, when Ron met with Draco he meant business and was not satisfied with whispering in the bookshelves of the library. "I don't know what to do with her anymore, and I'm about to go bloody berserk myself! You two are worse than a couple of girls!"

"It's not my fault," Draco said moodily.

"Who fucking cares whose fault it is!" Ron spat. "I don't care who fucked who or whatnot, it's not my business; but Hermione is. She's done all she can the past few weeks to make sure you two speak and she's worked tirelessly on getting Harry to open up. She's fought with him, which has made it worse on all three of us. The point is, I won't stand by and watch her go mad over you two when it's not her problem to begin with, even if she thinks she can mother the world!"

"Have you talked to Harry about all this?"

"Yes," Ron said, "and he's not talking to me at the moment. Not the first time. The point is, you clear this up immediately or I'll beat some sense into the pair of you myself. End of story."

It was a testament to how far Ron and Draco had come over the past few months that Draco did not threaten to retaliate, nor did he think Ron unreasonable. A small part of him knew this was dragging on long enough and that it was bound to come to a head eventually; how and when he didn't know, but at that moment, the inevitability of it was undeniable.