Dolor Draconum

Chapter the Twenty-Eighth

The conversation with Hermione went differently from how Ginny expected. She was tempted to say better, but she felt she was already risking accuracy just by saying 'conversation'. Hermione had sat silently, drinking Ginny's words in. Her silence had encouraged Ginny to talk more than she meant to, and she even found herself revealing the debate with Harry and Ron over whether she ought to be told.

"I'm surprised," Hermione said blandly. "I would have thought it was a no-brainer."

Ginny opened her mouth and closed it again. "I have no idea what you mean," she admitted. "It seemed really hard to decide to me."

"Ron was against telling me, yes?"

"I think so." Ginny wrinkled her nose. "It kinda changed. A lot."

"A sign of a good debate," Hermione sighed. She was sitting on Ginny's bed, her hands in her lap, head bowed slightly. The submissiveness scared Ginny a little. Something had changed. Something had happened.

"He told you, didn't he?" Ginny breathed. "Draco knew and he told you."

"A few hours ago." Hermione's mouth twisted into a wry smile at the irony.

"Hermione, what happened?" Ginny asked. She was really beginning to worry.

"Ron spied on us, before Christmas, and then he told Draco he was going to die," Hermione said heavily.

Ginny almost laughed with relief. "I know," she told Hermione. "He was tearing himself up about it. Felt really bad."

Hermione's expression flickered. "He should," she said eventually.

Ginny felt her relief evaporate. "Hermione, he's just a boy. Just a boy who really likes you, and who really hates Malfoy."

"But to sink to those levels, his levels," Hermione breathed.

"Who's levels?" Ginny said sharply. Hermione paled. "Malfoy's levels, right?"

Hermione stared at her lap, fingers twining together and fiddling and fidgeting.

"I don't understand who you're doing this," Ginny sighed. "I mean, I look at you and Draco and you're happy. And I'm happy for you. I just wonder sometimes if Draco and Malfoy aren't two different people for you."

"I can't reconcile it in my own mind," Hermione murmured. Ginny sat next to her and leant in so as to hear her. "I get so mad at Ron because the behaviour is cruel. It's out of character. And it's not that I don't get mad at Draco, it's not that I don't get mad when I think back at everything he's done either, but it is in character for him and somehow I accept that. I'm trying to change him," she sighed. "And I feel bad for it."

"He needs changing," Ginny reassured her. "Mum always says she had to change dad a lot before she could even think of marrying him. Had to get him housebroken," she grinned. Hermione caught the smile and offered a weak shadow of her own. "You can change him. You have." Ginny squeezed Hermione's hand. "And it's fine to be mad at Ron, but it did happen a long time ago now, and he really was incredibly sorry. So sorry he was sick!"

"Wow," Hermione said softly.

"Malfoy's not so bad. He's just had the wrong influences. Everyone can see he's better. Well, except the Slytherins."

"What if his dad comes for him?"

Ginny stared at their entwined hands for a moment before speaking. "You know him better than I do," she said quietly, "but I don't think he'd go. I think that depression's beginning to lift, and he's not going to go back to it."

"I don't think he'd go either," Hermione said, voice a little firmer, a little louder. "He wouldn't have told me otherwise. He might waiver, but as long as I'm there for him I can keep him on the right path."

"Exactly," Ginny beamed at her. "Is that all that's bothering you?"

Hermione considered for a moment. Sometimes she had doubts. She knew she had feelings for Draco, but she wasn't sure how far they extended. She knew Draco needed looking after, but she couldn't be his mother when he feelings for him were so non-maternal. She knew he'd changed, but how long would he retain the changes without constant reinforcement? Sooner or later, he was going to become a chore.

No, that wasn't the fear. She wanted it to be the fear though.

Instead, that niggling little doubt. What if he gets bored of me before I do of him? What if I become the chore before he does?

"Don't you worry about Ron, okay?" Ginny said, grabbing and squeezing Hermione's hand. "I'll find him someone."

Hermione chuckled, and to her surprise it wasn't forced. "That must be the ultimate embarrassment, being set up by your younger sister."

Ginny shook her head. "Try older brothers. The twins always try and get him paired off with the girl next door each summer, and even Percy," she swallowed, but ignored the pain in her chest, "tried to set him up once. Bill and Charlie both claim they don't know anyone the right age, but they always encourage the twins."

"Girl next door?" Hermione raised an eyebrow at Ginny. "You live in the middle of nowhere."

"It's a bit of a walk," Ginny acknowledged cheerfully. "Still, better than another cousin, right? This whole pureblood thing is worse than the royal family sometimes."

"What's she like?" Hermione asked, genuinely intrigued. And, if she could bring herself to admit it, a little jealous.

"Blonde, blue eyes, figure like a beach ball," Ginny grinned cheekily. "Her name's Chantelle. She's alright, good fun, but sometimes I think she's more interested in me than Ron, if you know what I mean." Ginny wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, making Hermione burst into gales of laughter. "Her mum's a witch but her dad's a muggle. She's got a brother here, two years below me, and a sister who just left last year. Poor thing's the only one with no magic."

"Poor thing," Hermione agreed. "But she's got you to comfort her, eh?"

They both dissolved into giggles again.

* * *

"Look, Draco, I don't think you should," Hermione said doubtfully.

"Why not?" He sounded frustrated, almost bordering on angry. It wasn't the first time Hermione had noticed this tone in his voice.

"You're not... you need... Look, Draco, I just think perhaps it would be better for you not to."

"'Look, Draco,'" he mimicked cruelly. "I'm so busy 'looking' sometimes that I can't see what's right in front of my nose! Stop babying me."

"I'm not!" Hermione protested. "I just want what's best for you."

"And when was it up to you to decide that?" Draco snapped.

"I wouldn't say you've exactly been capable of it recently!" Hermione finally yelled. The silent library grew quieter, but the couple weren't interested in who was listening. Maybe they hadn't noticed, maybe they didn't care.

Draco paled. His lips thinned until they were barely visible and his eyes narrowed. He seemed to get smaller in all ways, but not as though he was shrinking back. He was coiling in on himself, tightening, compressing. He was preparing to explode out again.

"Look, you need me, Draco," Hermione said, placating him. "You've said so yourse-"

"When?" he demanded. "When?"

"I'm not trying to order you about!" Hermione snapped.

"Yes! You are! You always are! And I put up with it because I agree with you, most of the time. I mean, I agree with your course of action, even before you suggest it. We just happen to be like-minded."

"So what's different now?" Hermione spread her hands.

"I disagree!" Draco snarled. "It's simple. I do not do what other people want me to do. Ever."

"Really?" Hermione raised an eyebrow. "I don't remember you doing anything other that what your father asked."

She was angry. She knew she was. Anger made her irrational. Irrationality made her want to hurt him. Being hurt often did that, and having her opinion so easily dismissed hurt. Somewhere underneath the anger was a sneaking suspicion that this had been a long time coming. She'd known he wasn't going to put up with it forever. She had to be angry to suppress the traces of guilt.

She didn't want to take it back though.

"No one asked you to involve yourself," Draco said, voice quiet. "My life has nothing to do with you. I have never interfered in your life."

"So the years of bullying I have somehow found it in my heart to forgive, they were just my imagination?" Hermione muttered.

Volume was increasing. "I do not care, and never have, what you think I should and should not do."

"Do you remember when the rest of Slytherin were hurting you? Physically? Who had the right idea then?" Hermione held her head up and glowered at him.

Voice was getting higher. "That fact is, sweet mudblood, dear Granger, you shouldn't even imagine that your opinions could ever mean anything to someone such as me."

"I told you, that word no longer means anything to me."

Draco closed his eyes, swallowed, breathed in and, "Get the fuck out of my life!" he shrieked.

"Language like that will not be tolerated in this school," McGonagall loomed over them. "Nor at that volume."

At least, Hermione consoled herself as they followed mutely to McGonagall's office, he hadn't said 'I hate you'. To say it second usually sounded so reactionary. She could still say it first.