On Storm Tossed Seas

Chapter 11: Confession

She tried to look away from him; his eyes were mesmerizing. She found herself reaching up a shaky hand to brush a stray lock of hair off his forehead noting that the hair did, in fact, feel silky; he leaned forward, the slightest bit, bringing their faces closer together. Her eyes flicked to his lips and she wondered, for the thousandth time, if they were as soft as in her dream. The last four weeks seemed to disappear; she could feel his breath tickle across her cheek. His eyes bore into hers, demanding; pleading. Her breath hitched in her chest. She brought her trembling hand back down to her side, only to feel him encase it in his own shaky hand.

With his free hand, he reached up to cup her soft cheek in his palm. He slid his hand back into her hair and lowered his face, his lips inches from hers. She shivered at his touch, and slowly closed her eyes, giving into the moment. His lips softly pressed against hers sending shivers down to her toes; it was better than her dream.

Letting go of his hand, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer to herself. In response, he wrapped his arms around her waist. The kiss continued for a few brief seconds, when Draco suddenly stumbled. Unsuccessfully, he tried to regain his footing, but fell heavily, pulling the Cloak, and Hermione, down with him.

"Mal--Draco? Are you okay?" Hermione asked. She disentangled herself and Draco from the Cloak. Grabbing her wand, she muttered 'lumos'. In the low light, she saw pain etched across his face. She reached out a hand and placed it on his cheek; it felt cold, too cold. "Draco?" She moved her hand to his shoulder and gently shook him. "Draco, are you okay?" she repeated.

Her breathing shallowed as she waited for a response. His face slowly relaxed, and Hermione took a deep breath as he opened his eyes. She looked into them and saw something she never thought she'd see in Draco Malfoy's eyes--complete disorientation. His eyes searched her face, at a complete loss. Her heart beat hollowly against her chest as she reached out a hand to place back on his still cool cheek.

"Draco?" His eyes settled on hers. "What's the matter?"

He gazed up at her for a few moments. "I--I'm not sure."

"You--fell. Do you remember that?"

He reached a hand up to his cheek, placing it over hers. She jerked a little when he did so, but kept her hand firmly on his cheek. Patiently, she waited for his answer.

His eyes slid closed for a moment, his brow furrowing in concentration. He removed her hand from his cheek while pushing himself up. She placed her hand on her knee and watched him as he reopened his eyes. An icy curtain fell over his eyes.

"I'm fine, Mudblood. Why do you ask?" he sneered.

Without missing a beat, she narrowed her eyes. "I'm sorry. I wasn't aware that it's common for you to suddenly fall to the floor." She stood, abruptly yanking the Cloak from the floor and throwing it around her shoulders disappearing at once. From her hidden sanctuary, she wiped at tears that sprung stubbornly to her eyes.

She took a few deep breaths, forcing herself to maintain control. She spoke. "Malfoy, what is your problem? One minute you have me in your arms--", she gestured vaguely under the cloak, and stumbled through the next word, "kissing--me and the next minute, you're back to calling me a--a Mudblood." Her voice trailed off. Silence blanketed the two for a time. When Draco, now standing, didn't answer, she pushed back the hood of the Cloak and looked into his steely eyes.

She tried to meet his gaze with a matching one, but faltered, and cast her eyes down, hoping he hadn't seen them filling with tears. Slowly, she turned to walk over to her bag.

Draco stood, glaring at her as she cast her eyes down. He'd seen them fill with tears, but stood still. When she turned, he expected to feel relief flood over him, but it didn't. He watched as her disembodied head glided towards her bag. As she reached for the bag, he found himself closing the gap between them in two large strides. He stepped around to face her and placed a hand on each side of her face, forcing her tear-filled eyes to look up into his now emotion filled ones. She tried to pull away, but he held her firmly.

Raggedly, he spoke. "Gr--Hermione. Look, I--damn it--I'm sorry. "

She stopped struggling, surprise filling her teary eyes. In a barely audible voice, she said, "You what?"

Draco released his grip on her, placed his hands to his sides, and looked directly into her eyes. In a firm voice, he repeated his apology. "Hermione, I'm sorry." He had to strain to hear what she said next.

"I never thought I'd ever hear you say that." She looked down for a moment, and then resettled her eyes on his, and spoke a little louder. "What exactly are you sorry for?" Hope filled her question.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, opened them and gave his reply. "For--for cursing Ron; for calling you Mudblood; for everything." He leaned against the wall for support as he spoke, finally slumping to the ground, resting his arms on his knees and placing his head between his hands to stare at the floor.

Hermione stood in the ensuing silence, looking down on the top of his silvery blond head. He'd apologized. Unbelievable as it was, he had. A lump grew in her throat as she stood watching him. He looked so defeated; so vulnerable; so fragile. She slipped the Cloak off, placing it back on the nearby chair, and knelt in front of him.

In a soft voice, she spoke. "Draco, thank you. You don't know what it means to me that you apologized. I forgive you." She waited.

Slowly the words sunk in. She'd forgiven him. He'd never been forgiven for anything in his life. Never. Even at home, his father and mother still held every mistake he'd ever made over his head. A feeling he'd never felt flooded through him. He felt a pressure behind his eyes and, for once, he wasn't ashamed that he was about to cry. He looked up to meet Hermione's glistening cinnamon eyes with his tear filled ones.

"You--you forgive me? Really?" The words choked their way out of his throat. She emphatically nodded, and reached out a hand to brush away a tear that had escaped his eye.

She left her hand on his cheek as she spoke. "Yes. I do. I forgive you," she answered him in a whisper.

She watched as he closed his eyes in apparent relief and leaned his head back against the stonewall he was leaning against. She moved to sit next to him and, hesitating for a brief moment, slipped her hand into his. After a moment, he gently squeezed her hand and turned to look at her.

"Now what?" he asked in a helpless voice.

"What do you mean, now what?"

"I mean, I've apologized and you've forgiven me--what now?"

"I don't know." She turned her head and leaned it back against the wall. "Draco, you looked like you were in pain--after you fell." She paused, not knowing what else to say.

"I know."

"What happened?"

He swallowed a few times before answering in a whisper, "I don't know." He tightened his grip on her hand as he remembered the pain that had shot through him.

"It's never happened before?"

"No."

"What did it feel like?"

She waited patiently for his answer. He finally pulled his hand away from hers and ran his fingers through his hair with a sigh.

"Hermione--I've never felt anything like it. I've been--I've felt pain before, but it was nothing like that." His voice trailed off for a moment. "It was like lightning was coursing through my body, bursting every blood vessel." His voice lowered to a whisper. "I've never felt anything so painful."

Without knowing how, Hermione had her arms wrapped around him. She gently rocked him as he broke into quiet sobs. "Shhh. It's okay. Shh." It was surreal, holding Draco while he was sobbing. If she'd been told that she'd be here, doing this, a year ago she'd have laughed herself sick. Now she wanted nothing more that to hold him and comfort him. Slowly his sobs abated.

"Draco? Are you gonna be okay?"

Gently, he pushed away from her. "Yeah. I'll be fine." He shot a look at her. "You're not going to tell anyone about this, are you?"

She gave a gentle laugh. "Draco, who'd believe me, even if I did tell? You're Malfoy. Malfoy who hates me; Malfoy who is as cold as ice; Malfoy, the future Death Eater." She looked over at him. "Don't worry. I won't tell a soul."

A smile slowly grew on his face as he listened to Hermione list off some of his more horrible traits. "You're funny when you get sarcastic." He smirked.

"Oh, shut up, Malfoy!" She glared at him, before breaking into a grin.

He reached out a hand and tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. "So--"

She shivered slightly. "So what?"

He leaned over and whispered, "So, can I kiss you again?" He looked into her eyes, a twinkle in his.

She hesitated. "Draco, we need to talk, first."

"Talk? About what?" he almost sneered. He leaned back against the wall with a sigh. "Sorry," he said when he looked over to see the glare that Hermione was leveling at him. "What do we need to talk about?"

"What happened--that night," she vaguely waved her hand in the air. "After Harry and Ron showed up. When you cursed Ron."

"Oh, right, that." He closed his eyes.

"Draco, why did you do it?"

"You don't want to know."

"Yes, I do." She turned to look at him, placing a hand gently on his arm. "I need to know, Draco. You must understand that. If I don't know, how can I possibly trust that it won't happen again?"

He kept his eyes closed for so long, that Hermione began to wonder if he'd drifted off to sleep. Abruptly, he snapped his eyes open and looked right at her.

"Hermione, I'll tell you. Be prepared, it's not pleasant what I'm about to tell you." His eyes bore into hers. She gave a small nod.

"My--my father is a Death Eater."

"I know. Harry told me all--"

He put a finger up. "Hermione, don't interrupt me. If you want to know, listen. Maybe, if I feel like it, I'll answer your questions and listen to your comments when I'm done." He put his hand back down and looked at her until she gave him a nod.

"Good. Now, my father is a Death Eater. I used to be proud of that. I'm not proud of it anymore. I'm not sure when my attitude changed, I only know that it did. For as long as I can remember, my father has been preparing me for the day when I would take a place at his side in the inner circle of the Dark Lord, assuming, of course, that he would arise from the dead. I used to desire that power more than anything." His voice faltered for a moment and he shifted himself into a more comfortable position before picking his monologue back up.

"What you have to understand, Hermione, is that from the time I could hold a wand, my father has been teaching me curses. The first time I remember using the Cruciatus Curse was when I was six. I performed the curse on a squirrel, much to the amusement of my father. I don't really know if the spell worked because of anything I did; my father had his wand out and was standing behind me, he quite possibly could have performed it to make me think that my curse had worked.

"Regardless, I was very proud of my power at that time, and enjoyed seeing the look of pride on my father's face. By the time I came to Hogwarts, he had taught me curses you've never heard of; things that only Death Eaters know about. To be honest, our Dark Arts class has always been a bit of a bore for me. I know more than most of professor's ever knew--well, Quirrell knew most of it, probably all.

"Potter actually messed things up for me, in a way." He paused at the glare that Hermione leveled at him. "Hold on, I'll explain. With the Dark Lord presumed dead, my father only taught me the curses. He didn't--well--I'll get to that in a moment." He swallowed hard.

"Basically, if Potter hadn't killed You-Know-Who, then I would never have been sent to Hogwarts; I never would have experienced life without the constant fear of my father. But, Potter did, and I learned what life could be like without my father shadowing my every move. As I got used to the freedom of Hogwarts, I also began to think things through.

"I came to the conclusion, after the Tri Wizard Tournament, that I no longer wanted to follow my father's footsteps. I no longer had the same desire for power that I'd lusted after as a kid. Basically, I had tasted freedom and I didn't want to be under someone else's rule--my father's or the Dark Lord's. In a stupid decision, I told my father just that." He put his head between his hands and took a deep breath, letting it out, before he continued.

"When I told him, he performed the Cruciatus on me." He paused as Hermione gasped in a breath, but he continued before she could say anything. "He'd performed it on me many times as punishment when I was a kid, but always it was for a brief moment. This time, he held it on me for much longer. I don't even know how long. I faded in and out as the pain shot through me." His voice lowered to a raspy whisper as he spoke, unwanted images flooding his mind. He shook his head and continued.

"It didn't stop at that. He decided it was time to make me learn my place in life. He began to put me through many curses, some much more painful than the Cruciatus. But," he faltered, "but--worse than the tortures he put me through--" He paused and tried to muster the courage to continue. He could feel himself shake as he tried to formulate the words. Hermione sat, frozen, waiting for him to continue.

In a voice barely above a whisper he continued. "He made me perform the curses on Muggles. And not just any Muggles, but he made me--made me perform them on children." He choked back a sob and continued, his voice a little louder. "He made me watch as they tortured, raped and murdered Muggle parents, and then--then he would make me torture and murder the--the children." He stopped. Silence descended upon the two. Hermione finally stirred and reached over a hand, slipping it into Draco's limp one and gave it a gentle squeeze.

He looked up, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears, in a choked voice, he continued. "He--he made me practice, often. He--he would have me duel other Death Eaters, and I--I learned to use the Cruciatus quickly. Having had the others performed on me, I knew it was the least painful. Casting the curse has become--instinct." He took a shaky breath and let it out. "Hermione, please believe me. When I cursed Ron, it was all a mistake. I never meant to." He stopped again, pulled his hand from Hermione's and miserably sunk his head between his hands, giving in to his tears.

Hermione sat in stone silence for a brief moment as Draco began to sob. Then she reached over and, for the second time that evening, held him as he cried. Eventually the tears dried up and he began to suffer from hiccups.

"Draco," she said, "thank you, for sharing. I--I can't even begin to imagine what you're feeling. I--I don't know how you have remained sane through all you've experienced."

Draco slowly pulled away from Hermione and looked at her, a hardness entering his eyes. "Hermione, if you ever tell--"

With a sigh she interrupted him. "Draco--I already told you I won't tell anyone."

"Not even Potter and Weasley, Hermione. I know how damn close you three are." Uninvited bitterness crept into his voice as he spoke.

"Draco, first, you can call them Harry and Ron--it won't kill you. Secondly, when I say I won't tell anyone, that's exactly what I mean--anyone." She looked into his stony eyes until they softened and he gave a nod.

"Okay. I believe you." He reached up a hand and ran it through his hair. "Hermione, what I just told you--no one else has been told. Dumbledore knows some of it, or I'd have been expelled. He doesn't know that I--I tortured and killed children." His voice cracked a little as he spoke.

"Draco, it's not your fault." She reached over and put her hand on his cheek. "You're father would have killed you."

"Yes. He probably would have, but then those children--"

"Would still be dead. I don't mean to sound callous, but he'd have killed those children with or without your help. You know that. He may have used the excuse of training you to kill them, but he'd have killed them anyway."

He looked at her for a few moments. He spoke in monotone. "You're right. I know you're right. It's tough, though. Every night, when I close my eyes, I can see the terrified faces of each child I tortured and killed. I can hear the horrified screams echoing in my brain."

Hermione removed her hand from his cheek and picked up his hand, cupping it between hers. "And you probably will see and hear them every night for a long time. What you went through is horrible. Maybe you could get a Dreamless Sleep potion from Madam Pomfrey to take before you go to bed every night?"

He gave a vehement nod of his head. "No. I'd feel worse. I really would. At least having to see and hear what I did every night is some sort of justice for the pointless deaths of those children."

Hermione took in what he said in silence. Quietly, the two sat on the cold floor, looking at each other. Draco finally moved his hand from hers and pulled her close to him, still keeping eye contact.

"Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"I'd like to kiss you, again," he said in a low voice.

"I'd like that," she replied.

With a smile, he lowered his head and met her lips. As soon as they began to kiss, pain shot through Draco. He jerked back, putting his hands to the sides of his head. The pain intensified and he passed out.