The Things We Never Say

THE THINGS WE NEVER SAY

After Hours

Chapter Three

Hermione throws her head back and laughs loudly. Soon, she is clutching her stomach and tears roll down from the corners of her eyes. She finds it hard to catch her breath but doesn't care--she can't remember the last time she has laughed so hard. It feels as if part of her sorrow has disappeared...possibly because there is only so much room inside her for happiness and sorrow, and this particular kind of laughter demands much more space. She won't argue if some of her sorrow is pushed aside; it's been so long, and she's carried around so much. Sometimes people become weary. Sometimes people make mistakes. Sometimes people kiss their enemies. Her laughter lessens.

"I'm starving!" Ron voices beside Hermione. Her thoughts are halted, and she continues to smile.

"You're always hungry," she replies. Across from them, Harry laughs, and Hermione loves to see him having a good time.

"Tell you what," she says in a moment of kindness, "I'll go down to the kitchens and see what I can find."

"Ah, Hermione, you don't have to do that," Harry says, making a motion to stand to his feet.

"No, it's okay really. You guys enjoy yourselves. I'll be back soon."

"I'll go with you," Ginny offers.

The two girls stand up, smile down at the Gryffindor boys (some of their favorite people in the whole world), and walk lightly through the common room, careful to not step on anyone.

"We'll see you shortly," Hermione says, waving lazily over her shoulder. She doesn't bother asking the boys what they want to eat; she's known them far too long now not to know their likes and dislikes.

She and Ginny make a quick flight to the kitchens. Once inside, the house-elves are far too eager to load a few baskets to overflowing for them. Ginny loves to talk with them and thank them hundreds of times. Hermione cannot seem to enjoy it as much. She doesn't understand how anyone could be so happy as a servant, but then again, she wonders if she isn't mastered by things as well--perhaps we aren't all slaves to other people; perhaps some of us are slaves to inanimate things, addictions, and even ourselves.

In a matter of minutes, she and Ginny are walking away from the kitchens, each holding a basket of foods and sweets. There is no one about, and the castle feels empty and quiet. The next thing they see is a long black cloak slipping out through a door. Ginny is almost certain it was merely one of the ghosts because she says so.

"Don't you wonder where those ghosts are going sometimes?" she asks, shifting her basket to her other hand.

Hermione doesn't speak at first, partly because she knows the long black cloak doesn't belong to a ghost, and secondly because she knows exactly who it belongs to.

"I don't think that was a ghost, Ginny. It's an...out of bed student. As a Prefect, I should check it out," she says, passing her basket into Ginny's empty hand.

"Do you want me to wait on you?" Ginny wonders.

"No, that's okay. The guys will be wondering where the food is if we don't return shortly. This shouldn't take long. I'll be up soon," she replies as she pulls her wand from her robes and holds it in her hand.

"Okay, well, be careful," Ginny says and Hermione can hear the slight apprehension in her voice.

"Nothing to worry about, Gin. It's an out of bed student, nothing more." But Hermione knows there's more than that because there's always something more we never say. "I'll see you soon."

Hermione waves goodbye to Ginny as they separate, Ginny up the staircase and Hermione through a side door. As Hermione pushes open the door quietly, her heart begins to hammer in her chest, and she has to pause and wonder, why I am doing this?

She knows who passed through this door. She doesn't know what he's up to, but she can't control her curiosity. She can't stop herself from following him. Without understanding what is driving her on, she closes the door behind her, finds herself encased in darkness, and begins to chase after Draco Malfoy.

* * * *

Hermione stops walking when she reaches another closed door. She finds the doorknob, turns it in her hands, and pushes the door open. She blinks a few times as the warm outside air rushes in and blows her hair from her face. She steps outside onto the Hogwarts grounds and closes the door behind her.

The grass is damp, and Hermione can see a set of footprints leading away from the door. They are leading in the direction of the Quidditch pitch. She takes a deep breath and creates a set of footprints of her own.

When she is standing at the edge of the stadium, she looks up and sees a figure flying high in the nighttime sky, robes billowing behind his body, reminding Hermione of a roving demon looking for souls to take.

She steps inside the stadium, careful to hide in the shadows. He has a snitch in his hand; he periodically releases it and chases it until he holds it in his hand again. She watches him fly fast. She watches him dive so quickly she holds her breath as she stares with her hands about her mouth. She watches him fly slowly as if he is enjoying a light breeze. She watches him and is unable to look away.

When she becomes unsure of how much time has passed, she realizes she cannot stay any longer. She backs out of the stadium in the darkness and hurries back to the castle, unaware that she is creating a third set of footprints that will be noticed by someone else when he is returning for the night as well.

Hermione goes up and down a few staircases that don't immediately lead her to the Gryffindor tower; she needs a reason for her tardiness. Once back inside the common room, she avoids questions by saying she became lost on the moving staircases, and she laughs lightly about it. No one doubts her story. She is relieved because if questioned, she knows she would have to lie, and she hates to lie. How would anyone understand that she spent an unknown amount of time watching Draco Malfoy fly on his broom? How would they understand that she had liked watching him? They wouldn't, and she finds comfort in the fact that she does not have to say anything.

* * * *

A few long nights pass before Hermione thinks of the Quidditch pitch again. When it pops into her head, she wonders if Draco flies every night. She checks the time; it's just after eleven. She reasons that it was nearing midnight the last time she saw him.

She closes her book and stretches. Harry and Ron are sleeping on the couch; Ginny is lounging in one of the chairs, a magazine draped across her long legs.

"I'm going to make one last round before bed," Hermione whispers.

"What time is it?" Ginny wonders sleepily.

"It's barely past eleven. I'll be back."

Ginny nods lazily and Hermione is thankful she doesn't question her further. She pulls on her cloak, runs her fingers over her wand quickly and exits out through the portrait hole.

She finds her way back to the side door and in a much shorter amount of time, she is standing outside on the grounds. The grass isn't damp, but Hermione can see the indention of shoes has bent over the blades of grass. Her heart flutters strangely.

As she nears the pitch, she can see a shape flying through the air. Half a moon hangs in the sky, only periodically blocked by shifting clouds. When the moon is out his blonde hair shines and streaks through the blackness; she watches it, mesmerized.

She leans against a nearby wall in a dark corner and breathes in slowly. Watching him at such a distance makes her forget how much she has hated him. He seems free and somehow different. And she likes watching him from her distant corner because she feels safe and certain he will never know. In her mind she makes the decision to watch his nightly flying as often as possible...and she does.

* * * *

Hermione soon becomes so comfortable in her dark silence watching Draco, that she begins to bring books with her. Sometimes she reads while she watches him, and other times she takes out her journal and writes. She no longer finds it strange that she feels so comfortable sitting in a darkened area of the Quidditch pitch watching Draco fly.

Periodically, after her mind replays a forbidden kiss, she wishes he would swoop down, lift her off her feet and make her feel as free as he seems to be, but she knows it will never happen...and she also doesn't like to fly. Besides kisses don't change the past, and they definitely don't rearrange the future. Or at least, that's what she used to believe--now she isn't so sure.

The night is cooler than the others before, and she tugs her cloak around her shoulders. She looks up at him flying through the night, and the whole scene seems so strange. Above his head are thousands of tiny blazing stars, and he moves through the night with such skill it's almost as if he was born for flying.

Tonight she can almost imagine that Draco is no longer evil and he is fleeing the demons at his heels--possibly even fleeing his father. But she sighs deeply when she realizes that he can never escape his father because one day he will be the very same man. She doesn't understand why this single thought fills her with such sorrow, but it does, and her throat becomes tight.

She realizes it is time for her to leave. She gathers her things and wonders if she is becoming much too attached to this routine, much too attached to Draco.

On her way back to the castle in the stillness, she once again leaves the third set of footprints. Oddly enough, she has never thought about the fact that he would notice the footprints just as she does. Perhaps she doesn't give him enough credit to notice things that don't involve him specifically, but she should, because although Draco Malfoy is arrogant, he is not stupid.

In the Gryffindor tower, in her curtained bed, she lies down sleepily. Behind her closed eyelids she can see Draco's form flying back and forth, and this rocks her to sleep. It's such an absurd thing for her to be able to fall asleep thinking of someone so hateful, but she smiles as she lies in the quiet comfort of her room. After all, no one will ever know what she thinks about before she falls asleep because she will never tell a soul.