Dolor Draconum

Chapter the Thirty-Third

Harry tracked down Hermione in the library, right where she'd said she would be. The library was jammed full of students, all studying intently. Harry felt guilty for simply walking through the room. He didn't want anyone to fail because he'd distracted them by walking past their desk or his footsteps were too loud.

Hermione, of course, was right in the deepest, darkest, dustiest corner of the library. Muggle Studies. She was sitting with her back to a shelf, a book in her lap and a small pile of chocolate next to her. Harry wondered where she'd found the chocolate.

"When's the exam?" Harry asked.

"Two days ago," Hermione said. "It went well, I think. Of course, I have something of an advantage."

"Yeah," Harry said, sitting down next to her. "So what are you doing here?"

Hermione blushed and frowned at the book in her lap unhappily.

"Hermione?" Harry poked her arm. "Her-mi-on-ne?"

"Thinking about Malfoy," she admitted quietly.

Harry regretted asking.

"What's going on in his head: that's not about me. I don't know what it is about, but it's not me. And I'm worried." Hermione turned a page in the book and slipped another piece of chocolate into her mouth. Talking around it, she went on, "I think Ginny was on to something when she mentioned Malfoy's father. He's still very upset about that, you know."

Harry stared at his knees for a moment. The past year had been tough on their friendship. It had taken him a long time to realise he wasn't losing Hermione to Malfoy. He wasn't even really sharing her with him. Their paths hadn't crossed much. By the time he'd reconciled himself to them being together they'd split up. It wasn't just Malfoy, though. Hermione's no nonsense friendship policy had shocked him into looking at his own behaviour. Maybe he had been unfair on them, but he still felt the sting of Hermione's lack of sympathy.

There had been times, earlier in the year, when he'd wished his losses on his friends. He'd told himself it was so they'd understand how he felt and be able to offer more support. He knew, though, that he'd simply wanted them to feel as bad as he did. It wasn't the same thing. He still had trouble accepting how unfair life was, but for now he was grateful that Hermione and Ron were still relatively unscathed. If they were all hurting they would be entirely unable to help each other through.

Harry needed Hermione's friendship, just as much as he needed Ron's. He needed them to be friends as well, though. The questions in his mind could break those bonds, all of them. But if he didn't ask, then those bonds might be broken anyway, and worse, break Hermione and Ron too. There would be no hope of a reconciliation.

"Hermione," Harry said softly, "will you answer a question?"

"You want me to say yes without hearing it first?" Hermione asked, her nose still buried in her book. Harry didn't take offence at this method of holding a conversation; he knew from experience Hermione was quite capable of giving him her full attention and pursue her own task as well.

"I think I might be able to help you work out what's going on with Malfoy, but you have to tell me something as well, okay?"

Hermione looked up from her book: a bad sign. "Are you trying to bargain with me, Harry? That's not how friendship works. If you think you know something that could help Malfoy, I need to know."

"I'm not bargaining," Harry said, perfectly aware that that was precisely what he was doing. "I just... if you can, you'll avoid answering my question. And I don't blame you for that, but I need a guarantee you'll answer me truthfully."

"I never slept with Malfoy," Hermione said, returning to her book. Harry was about to object, blushing and stuttering and insulted, when he saw Hermione's smile.

Harry sighed and rolled his eyes. "It's not that, okay? Look, I'll tell you what I know about Malfoy, alright? Bear in mind I was sworn to secrecy here, and that's, you know, state secrecy."

"It's his father, isn't it?" Hermione said, putting the book down. "What happened, Harry?"

"He escaped."

"I know that, Harry. Ginny told me, remember?" Hermione said softly. "Do you know when, though, exactly?" She leant forwards intently.

"Before Christmas, I think." Harry leant back, feeling a little threatened. "That's got to be why they kept Malfoy in the sick room."

"Oh." Hermione said, sitting back ago. "That's... that's a while ago."

"I guess that's why Ginny thought it was unlikely," Harry said. "Still, it's worth considering, right?"

"Definitely. Perhaps he's tried to make contact? Maybe Malfoy was actually told not to go to the potions exam?" Hermione pulled a bit of paper from a pocket and a pen from behind her ear and began scribbling ideas on a bit of paper. "He won't tell me, of course," she sighed, "but I think I'm going to have to try anyway. I'd never forgive myself if he disappears or hurts himself or something and I didn't even try."

"Hermione," Harry broke in, "are you still in love with Draco Malfoy?"

"I was never i-" Hermione cut herself off.

"Hermione?"

"Would you like some chocolate?" she asked, holding a piece out to him.

"Hermione!" Harry glowered at her, but took the chocolate anyway.

"I know, I know." Hermione sighed heavily. "It's just... it's a hard question." She stared at her shoes and bit down on a lump of chocolate. "Did Ron ask you to ask?"

"No," Harry said. "And I won't tell him what you say, either."

"Why not?" Hermione asked.

"Huh?"

"What if... what if I tell you something that you think he needs to know? What if I told you I was carrying Malfoy's baby, or something?"

"I thought you said you never slept with him," Harry said suspiciously.

"I didn't, you twit," Hermione said. "It was just an example."

"You're going to tell me something on the same level as being pregnant?" Harry asked incredulously.

"No! Well..." Hermione looked uncomfortable. "Look, will you still stand by your promise not to tell Ron?"

Harry took a deep breath. "Yes," he said. "Yes, alright."

"You asked if I am still in love with Malfoy," Hermione said slowly. "The problem with that question is I'm not sure if I was ever in love with Malfoy. I guess I feel much the same as I always did about Malfoy."

"How do you feel about Ron?" Harry asked softly.

"Much the same as I always did," Hermione told him.

"That's not good for Ron, is it?" Harry said.

"I don't know. I just don't know." Hermione stared at her fingers. There was chocolate on them. "With Malfoy it was passionate. I lo- liked him as much as I hated him. It could just as quickly swing back the other way again. It did, for a while. But now I'm worried for him again, and that's bringing everything else back. Everything with Malfoy, Harry, was based on my concern for him. I don't blame him for getting mad. I am Frankenstein, and he was my creation. I'm Pygmalion, I'm Henry Higgins."

"I'm lost," Harry said honestly.

Hermione smiled at him sadly. "Ron was right: I was in love with his redemption. I forced him to turn into someone he wasn't, and fell in love with that someone. There was only so long it could last anyway," she said with a sigh and a shrug. "He's an arrogant, prejudiced bastard, underneath everything. I hated him for years." She considered for a moment. "I was in love with Draco, and maybe I still am, but that's not who he is. He's Malfoy, just like he's always been, and no matter how vulnerable he is. I keep trying to fool myself that I can change him, but that's about me, not him."

"You're a good person," Harry told her. "You don't need to prove that to everyone. Anyone who's met you knows you're great."

"I needed to prove it to me," Hermione told him.

Harry reached out and slipped his hand into hers. She squeezed it tightly. With her other hand she picked up a piece of chocolate and slipped it into Harry's mouth, falstalling his next question.

"It was just the one question," she reminded him. "That was the deal."

"You said friends don't bargain," Harry told her, almost choking on the chocolate.

"I care about Ron," Hermione said, correctly guessing the question. "I care deeply about him. It's not the same passion I had with Malfoy, and that's a good thing. I'll come to love him just as powerfully one day, I know I will, and it will be purer and more powerful because it's the real Ron I care about, not some fantasy of mine."

"He's still just a friend, isn't he?" Harry asked, closing his eyes, already feeling his friend's pain.

"I can love him, Harry. I will. It's just been... fast. Sudden. I already love him, I have for years."

"As a friend, Hermione. It's not the same."

"I can make it the same!" Hermione insisted. "I wouldn't be doing this if I thought otherwise, and you know it. I'd never hurt Ron like that. Just because, right now, my feelings for a fictional Malfoy are still clouding the issue, doesn't mean they will forever. On Valentine's Day, do you know how hard that decision was for me? So hard I made the wrong one, Harry.

"Look, Harry, I admit, I shouldn't have jumped straight into a relationship with Ron. Not while I still have strong feelings for Malfoy. They were strong feelings of hatred, though, and you pushed me. It seemed like a good idea at the time, and you know what? It seemed like a good idea several months ago, at Valentine's. It will be a good idea again soon. It's just a matter of time. I should have waited, yes. But I didn't, and you have to trust me to handle this. Ron and I... it's going to be forever, Harry. I can picture us married, with kids. I couldn't do that with Malfoy. It's slow burning, that's all. It's going to take time to get going, but it's never going to stop. The brightest flame burns briefest. Malfoy and I were a match; Ron and I are a candle. You see?"

Harry felt a little dazed. It was like an emotional hailstone, chipping away each layer of rationality until there was only the thinnest layer of sanity between him and chaos.

"Harry?" Hermione waved a hand in front of his face.

"I'm not that bad," Harry said, pushing it away. "It's just... that was a lot. I think I understand though. At least, I hope I do, and I hope you're right. I would love to see you and Ron work out. I can picture you married, with kids, too." He grinned. "I'll be Uncle Harry. I'll spoil them rotten and you'll always be mad but the kids will adore me."

This didn't have quite the affect Harry was hoping for. Instead of joining in with the make believe Hermione turned away, expression thoughtful and a little upset. It occurred to Harry that perhaps Hermione had been lying when she'd talked about her future. This upset him badly, but he kept his mouth shut.

"Yes," Hermione said eventually. "We'll all be one happy family."

Something clicked in Harry.

"This is about Malfoy again, isn't it?" he said, not bothering to keep the bite out of his voice. Malfoy wasn't the only person in the world to be abandoned by his parents.

"Your parents are dead, Harry," Hermione said, knowing him well enough to guess his train of thought. "They're dead, but there is no doubt in anyone's mind that they loved you deeply. Malfoy's parents are alive. There's no doubt that they don't love him."

Harry bit his lip. "That doesn't make Malfoy worthy of you love, though," he said. "Maybe you can say he needs it more, but he's done nothing to deserve it. Look," he said, holding up a hand quickly as Hermione opened her mouth, "I'm not saying he drove his parents to leave him, or anything. They're gits of their own accord. They've brought Malfoy up to be a git too, and, alright, that's not his fault either. But it's not as though he's never met anyone else, Hermione. He's had plenty of opportunities to change himself, to recognise that he was in the wrong. He's a git," Harry concluded with a shrug.

"Yes," Hermione smiled, "I suppose he is."

"And Ron isn't," Harry said, spreading his hands. "He's probably worrying about you now." He climbed to his feet and put a hand out to help Hermione up. "You're not revising."

Hermione's eyes widened. "Oh no! Transfiguration." She scrambled to her feet and shoved the book she'd had in her lap back onto a shelf. The chocolate was already finished. "I haven't done nearly enough revision," she said. "I've barely looked at Humphrey's theory of mammal to reptile, or Mattias on furnishings, or Sariah's views on pattern development!"

"Should I have heard of those people?" Harry whispered in her ear as they made their way out of the library.

"What? Oh, no," Hermione said, waving the question away. "Don't worry about it."

Harry knew better than to ask why she was, then.