Amid the Falling Snow

Chapter 3: Coffee and Revelations

As Draco opened his eyes, an unfamiliar sight came into focus. The room was painted and covered entirely in his worst nightmare, besides plastic, of course: Flowers. Had he died and gone to hell? Memories of the night before came swarming back to him. He was in Hermione's flat. No, he wasn't in hell, but the plastic was pretty damn close. Standing up, he took another look around. He really did hate those flowers on the wall.

He staggered out of the room, the scent of coffee and sausages reaching his nose. He went into the kitchen, where he saw Hermione sitting at the table, sipping her coffee with her head deep inside a book. Without looking up, she said:

"Grab a cup if you want."

"What?" he asked, still vaguely aware of his surroundings.

"Grab a cup of coffee?" she offered, giving him a puzzled look.

"Oh, right."

"Shouldn't have drank so much," she told him when he sat down.

"Sorry?"

"YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE DRANK SO MUCH," she yelled. His head throbbed in pain.

"Don't do that!" he hissed, rubbing his temples in an attempt to make the pain go away. The girl did it just to spite him! The horror of it all!

"Do what?" she asked innocently. She knew exactly what she was doing!

"Is there a reason I woke up in your flat?" he asked, curious. He remembered a lot of what happened, but why he was in her home was beyond him.

"You were too drunk to remember your own name," she told him, smirking.

"You shouldn't do that to your face. It's quite cruel to the people who have to look at you," he informed her.

"Oh, SHUT UP!" After a few moments of silence, Draco spoke again.

"I'm leaving." And he stood up and walked out.

He wasn't going to say thank you for what she did. She didn't have to bring him inside. She could have left him out in the cold for all he cared! Draco felt a throb in his head like no other. He groggily went to his door and couldn't get it open. If he was in his right mind, he would have remembered that he was in fact a wizard with a wand. But of course, he didn't, so he went back to Granger's and knocked on the door.

"What do you want now?" she asked when she opened it.

"I can't get into my house."

"Oh, alright. Come in."

When Draco sat down on the couch of hell, he turned to her. "Why are you so mad about Weasley getting married? If I were you, I'd be delighted to get him out of my hair!"

"That's none of your concern, Malfoy," she snapped.

"Oh, we both know you're dying to tell someone!"

"You are very wrong. Can we please talk about something else?"

"No, not until you tell me," he persisted. It was fun to bother her!

She crossed her arms and turned away. She was cracking. This amused him.

"Fine, I'll leave it alone," he said finally. She wouldn't be able to resist telling him now.

"I'm afraid," she said suddenly. Hah! He got her!

"Afraid?"

"Yes, afraid. I'm afraid that I will lose a good friend. I hardly see Harry as it is, and losing Ron, too, would be just dreadful. I'd have no one to turn to!" Her eyes welled with tears. He hadn't counted on her crying. He didn't know how to comfort the distraught.

He moved closer to her and put an awkward hand on her shoulder. "It'll....be fine." Being nice was too weird for him. Unnatural, unheard of! She'd better not get used to it!

"Thanks," she said, smiling and wiping tears from her face. Oh, good. She was smiling! Now she could leave him alone!

"My pleasure," he whispered. Did that just escape his mouth? He didn't really mean that!

"Draco, would you-"

"Uh, sorry. I have to do a bit of shopping. I'll see you around," he said hastily. He didn't want to be dragged into a repeat of the night before.

"Oh, alright. I'll see you later," she answered.

As Draco was leaving through the door, she cried, "You have a wand. That should open your door."

Damn. How could he have forgotten he was a wizard? Seven years of hell should have stuck that memory into him. Shaking his head, he opened the door with a quick swish of his wand and strode inside. Still feeling as if someone slammed his head into one hundred tons of iron, he made his all too familiar drink. He guzzled it down and slumped on his plastic-free sofa.

Hermione was still a mystery to him. Why was she so afraid of expressing her feelings? She was terrified of everything! Afraid of loss, afraid of failing, afraid of friendship, and, he thought, afraid of love. He was so sure that was the only reason she broke it off with him. She was scared. Fearful of what in particular, though? To get too close to someone? To actually share feelings? Maybe when her parents were killed that summer, she closed herself off.

He could be the one to help her, but she didn't seem to want his help. Although, he thought to himself, she did invite you into her house. She seemed to want a friendship, at least. Yes, someone to cling onto when her life goes down the drain. No, she was better than that. She just wanted someone she could really talk to, but since when had the Malfoys been known to hold a decent conversation? She must have been seriously misinformed, that was for sure. He laughed to himself. Malfoys, concerned about others? That was a joke! When they were caring, hell would freeze over. So everyone knew that wasn't happening any time soon...

The sun was blazing through the window, leaving streaks of light all over. He hated the light, so he closed the curtains and resumed his thinking state. He probably should have been going to work, but he just didn't feel like it. He'd have his new apprentice fill in for him. It wasn't as if he really had to be there. It'd take care of itself. Ripping a piece of empty space off the Daily Prophet, he scribbled a note giving orders to the kid, slipped it onto his owl, and went back to laying down on the sofa. He was extremely bored. Twiddling his wand with his fingers, he pondered. What could he do to pass the time?

Well, there was always sleeping. Merlin knew he could use it. No, that'd be boring. He needed a wee bit more fun. Oh, who was he kidding? Draco Malfoy having fun? No, the only way he could do that was by torturing someone, and Potter was a bore now. Sighing, he realised something. His house was a mess. Oh, bugger. He really loathed cleaning. He wondered if there were any house elves that would still enjoy cleaning after they were freed. That was doubtful, especially a house elf that would be willing to go near him with a hundred foot pole. He supposed he'd just have to do it himself. That was a shame.

Getting up, he decided he'd tackle the very room he was in. Boxes upon boxes were about the floor and some had toppled over. He picked up the first box, digging through its contents for anything worth saving. Glasses and paperwork. That was an interesting combination. He tossed the box carelessly into the kitchen. The sound of glass breaking could be heard. He caught sight of a box labelled, Letters. Ignoring any thought of finishing his cleaning, he picked up the box and went into his room. Setting the box on his bed, he stared thoughtfully at it.

He could open it and search through the letters, but there was that creeping feeling that he'd regret it. Part of him wanted to read them, to remember the few good days of his life. This was quite a decision! What he'd do, he wasn't sure. As the Muggles say, curiosity killed the cat. On second thought, that little saying made absolutely no sense, and he quickly opened the box and pulled out a letter. Without a second thought, he opened the letter and glanced over it. It was a bad idea...

Draco,

Do you ever wonder about love? We're awfully young, as you know. Could this just be one of those...what do they call them? Oh, flings? I mean, it's only been a few months! How can two young people such as us make such a commitment with those three little words? It's just so surreal! You must understand where I'm coming from, don't you?

Harry and Ginny are getting married and I honestly wonder what made them do such a thing. Could they really love each other? It's such a commitment, and frankly, I'd be afraid! Sigh. I wish there was an easier way to do things. Draco, you can't honestly love me. We're two different people with two different lives to live! You...well, you are a Death Eater! And me, I'm just not. We're also just getting too serious. It was never meant to be... Do you understand? I really think we should break it off, see other people. Please, don't be angry with me. It's what is really best, for the both of us!

Hermione

Folding the letter, he stared off into the distance at nothing in particular. He felt a burning in his throat and forced away tears. That was the last time he touched that bloody box! Throwing it across the room, he clenched his jaw in anger. All thoughts of sadness disappeared instantly. Although he wanted to be so mad at her for tearing his heart into pieces, he couldn't. That was the past and forgetting the past was his goal.