Shifting Perspectives

"Shifting Perspectives"

By Professor Mary

Chapter 15: "With a little help from my friends"

Beta: a huge thanks to the brilliant and timely Taigan!

***

Draco tiptoed out of the Common Room, feeling both cowardly and foolish. He hadn't spent more than a couple of minutes in the room between his bedroom and the hallway since what had happened over the weekend. He felt utterly stupid about avoiding his own Common Room but he just did not want to run into Hermione.

And that's why he felt cowardly.

He was also a bit irked. She was clearly avoiding the Common Room. Though he didn't use it anymore, he had kept an eye out for her. So far, he'd only seen her scampering through it as if the very floor was on fire.

They'd been communicating with terse little notes, too. Sure, he'd left the first one:

Granger, I have to tutor the Gryffindor Seconds' Charms Group this evening. I won't be at Quidditch. --DM

But he'd been in a hurry when he'd written the note. It wasn't as if he really wanted to tutor twelve-year-old Gryffindors instead of attending the Slytherin Quidditch practice. He was only trying to maintain appearances, after all. And the real Hermione Granger gave tutorials. So the Draco Malfoy version of Hermione Granger also gave tutorials. She knew that.

But she hadn't left a reply. And she wasn't waiting in the Common Room for him after practice for their customary debriefing. He hadn't made up his mind if he was miffed or relieved - probably a bit of both, he'd thought.

The following morning, he'd found a coffee service and the briefest of notes outside of his room.

I'm trading patrols with McMillan. HG

That really had him for a loss. The two of them did patrols. Why would she want to suddenly trade with McMillan? He happened to know for a fact that Granger got annoyed with the other boy's constant prattling - though, he granted, she hid it well and had never actually said it aloud. He was forced to come to the conclusion that she was indeed avoiding him in every way she could.

Yet some of the gestures continued. And he was left with mixed messages. For instance, after that morning, the coffee service was always there, right outside his door. But Granger was already gone.

The odd behavior didn't stop there. Though she was as efficient a Potions partner as she ever had been, she spoke to him only when necessary and did so without meeting his eye. And she continued to communicate through extremely short notes.

The whole thing was beyond infuriating.

As he made his way towards the library where he knew Ron and Harry would be waiting, he let his anger build. How could she just ignore him? Especially after what had happened over the weekend? Had it really meant nothing to her?

The weekend... he was beginning to wonder if the weekend had ever happened in the first place. And he knew that was stupid. After all there was truly an abundance of evidence that the weekend had occurred for some people. Snape and Sprout hummed the same tunes in their respective classes, Harry and Ginny were all but inseparable, and Ron no longer sat facing the Slytherin Table (and Millicent no longer faced the Gryffindors). Perhaps the most salient legacy of Friday's mass drugging of the Hogwarts population was that students from different Houses now interacted with each other, sitting at different House tables, and coordinating joint-House activities. When he wasn't focused on how annoying Hermione Granger was acting, he was almost proud for his part of the new wave of Inter-House Unity. After all, he mused, it had taken true cunning and improvisation to pull it off.

A series of whispers jolted him out of his musings. He carefully slowed his pace and slipped behind one of old bookcases.

"I'm telling you, something's wrong. And it's got to be about Malfoy," Ron whispered.

"Yeah, you're probably right. But don't you think she'd talk to us if she was really upset?" Harry asked.

"I would have thought so," Ron answered. "But lately, it's like Hermione's a different person. She's far more secretive -"

"Moodier, too-" Harry interrupted.

"Oh, yeah, definitely."

Draco bristled but continued to listen.

"Does Ginny know what happened?" Ron asked.

Draco didn't hear an answer but assumed that Harry must have shaken his head when he heard Ron's long low sigh.

"Well, I just wish she'd let us in. I hate seeing her so mopey," he said.

Draco's anger at the two of them was fleeting. With new resolve, he walked around the corner and set his books down on the table, taking care to give both Harry and Ron small but genuine smiles.

"Hermione?" Harry sputtered. "We - er - we didn't see you there."

Draco felt the corners of his mouth twitch upwards in a smirk.

"So I heard," he replied, for a moment relishing how nervous both Ron and Harry looked.

Ron, already flushing deeply, looked ready to apologize but Draco waved him off.

"It's all right, really," he sighed. "I've been meaning to talk to you both. I just needed to think some things through."

Ron and Harry were gratifyingly quiet and completely focused on his words.

Draco took a deep breath. He was really going to have to pay attention to the way he told this story. On the one hand, he could almost taste the catharsis that was sure to follow his confiding in his two friends. On the other hand, one slip up with names and genders and the game would be up. At this point, though, he was almost ready for the entire ruse to come to an end...

Harry gently cleared his throat and Draco looked up from his thoughts.

"Well, it's about Draco," he said slowly.

Ron nodded at Harry but kept quiet.

"And it's about what happened Friday night, after all the students were finally rounded up and lodged in their respective dorms."

At this, both Ron and Harry's cheeks were a bit flushed. Draco almost sniggered, knowing with certainty now that they'd both had their own "experiences" that night.

"He and I...er - We... Well, you see, we - " Draco stuttered, blushed, and began fiddling with a stack of parchments. He couldn't believe how difficult this was going to be - the telling.

One more deep breath.

And then in a rush, "WeSpentTheNightTogether."

All three of them simultaneously let out a whoosh of breath.

"I knew it," Ron said in a soft voice.

Draco kept his eyes averted by studying the rather boring pattern of seams on his robe.

"Hey, Hermione," Harry began in a reasonable tone. "Listen you both were under the influence of Alihotsy -"

"No, don't you get it, Potter?" Draco interrupted. "Don't you remember what I told you? Alihotsy may take away your inhibitions but it won't make you do something you don't want to do."

Ron's eyes were as big as saucers now and only two incredulous words came from his mouth: "But Millicent?"

Draco scoffed at him, feeling surprisingly protective of his fellow Slytherin. "Well, I'm not implying that you, Ronald, particularly wanted Millicent Bulstrude. But you obviously wanted something like that from someone."

"Well, that's just it, Hermione," Harry said. "You must have wanted something, too. And you do share living space - it was bound to happen. It could have just as easily been someone else," he finished with a smile.

Draco just shook his head, took another deep breath, and plunged forward.

"No, I wanted to be with her- him, I mean. I wanted it."

It was Ron who broke the long awkward silence.

"I don't see what the problem is, then, Hermione," he said, sounding brave. "You've been telling us all along that he's not as bad as we've thought- and that he's not his father," he said, pausing to give Harry a pointed look.

"No," Draco said softly but firmly, "he's definitely not his father."

"If you both really wanted to be together," Ron continued haltingly, "then I don't understand why you're so upset."

When Draco didn't immediately reply, Ron suddenly jumped up and banged his fist loudly on the desk.

"He didn't hurt you, did he?" he demanded, his blue eyes sparkling dangerously. Harry had whipped his head around and looked intently at Draco, too.

"No, no," Draco said quickly. "It's not like that at all. I promise."

Slowly, Ron sank back into his seat. But Harry continued to fix him with a questioning gaze.

"Then what is it?" Harry asked.

"I wanted to be with him because I like him. I really do. But I don't think he feels the same way. I think he just wanted to be with someone - with anyone," Draco said quietly.

He looked down at his hands where he'd evidently been worrying his robe seam until it had begun to unravel. Absentmindedly, he continued to pick at the frayed edges. As he did so, images of Hermione kissing Ginny Weasley flooded his brain. These memories had long since made him feel aroused or even curious. Rather, now, these painful recollections only served to confirm his theory that Hermione merely used him to satisfy her own desires. And those thoughts really hurt.

Around the same time that he felt something wet on his cheeks, he also felt a warm set of arms wrap around his shoulders. It was only another minute or so before he heard a squeak of a chair being pulled across the floor. And then he felt a comforting warm hand gently rubbing his back. He thought he could even hear shushing murmurs over the racket of other noises. Someone, he thought inanely, was really making a lot of noise with all that gagging and sniffling.

It seemed like he sat there with them for a good long while before the weeping stopped and all that he could really hear was a few half-hearted hiccups.

He lifted his head up, distantly noting that he'd been resting it on some rather wet material. A faded red handkerchief was gently folded into his hand. He blew his nose with it. Then he rubbed his itchy eyes.

There was no doubt that he was feeling a bit dazed. But he was also feeling amazingly better- as if a huge weight had been lifted from his chest.

As he looked up into the worried green and blue eyes of his two friends, he smiled, feeling more comforted than he'd ever before felt in his life.

"Thanks," he whispered.

***

Hermione leaned against the stone wall of the locker room showers. She'd flown hard tonight. Actually, she mused, she'd flown hard every night this week. She'd had absolutely no problem keeping her team in line, either. She hadn't had to bark at them or anything like that at all. Rather, it was almost as if she made them all a bit skittish these days. She gave them their instructions and, for the most part, they flew as directed. All in all, she thought the Slytherin Quidditch team had definitely had one of their finest weeks of practice since she'd been flying with them.

She might have even been proud of them if she could have just dredged up the energy to do so. Hermione was utterly exhausted. She wasn't sleeping well and she had to study twice as hard as usual. She was easily distracted and far too easily exasperated. She wondered if anyone had even noticed...

Abruptly, she turned off the water, wrapped a towel around her waist, and left the shower area. There was really no point in even thinking about him and she knew it.

She sat down on the bench wearily. A week's worth of hard flying had certainly taken its toll on her body. She felt as if every muscle in her shoulders, back, and legs, had been pushed to its limits.

Seemingly from nowhere, cool hands lightly touched the tops of her shoulders from behind. Had Hermione not been so tired, she might have jumped in shock. As it was, all she managed to do was limply turn around and face her intruder.

Pansy Parkinson.

Hermione desperately hoped she had been able to mask her disappointment at seeing this particular girl.

"Humph."

Apparently not, Hermione thought ruefully.

Pansy's cool firm hands urged her to turn back around. Then she began to work her hands lightly into the tight muscles of Hermione's back.

Both startled and grateful, Hermione said nothing.

"Don't get any ideas, Draco," Pansy cooed knowingly. "This is most literally an I-rub-your-back, you-rub-mine kind of thing."

The two were silent for several long minutes as Pansy continued to knead Hermione's shoulders and back, applying increasing amounts of pressure.

It was truly blissful, Hermione thought stupidly.

"Now, Draco," Pansy said carefully. "I want to hear everything. Oh, don't tense up. There's no need to hide anything from me. I already know that you and Granger slept together. That much is evident from the way you two so pointedly ignore each other. The thing I want to know is why.

But if you want to kiss and tell, I wouldn't be adverse about hearing about that, either," she added, only somewhat jokingly.

"You want to know why we slept together or why we're ignoring each other?" Hermione asked, feeling tired, confused, and dejected.

"I'm not stupid. I know why you did it. The tension that's been building between you two has been palpable for ages," she said huffily. "No, what I don't get is why you're not still together."

"First," Hermione began defensively, "we did not "do it" - well, not that."

At that, Pansy dug her fingers a little too hard into her sore shoulders and Hermione gave a yelp.

"Okay, we didn't do it- not the entire thing," Hermione corrected.

"Just say it, already. You make it sound like some kind of weird mysterious shameful thing, you know."

Astounded, Hermione turned around and looked directly at Pansy.

"You never cease to surprise me, Pansy," she said, all but awestruck by the other girl's insightfulness.

Choosing her words carefully, Hermione clarified, "We kissed and touched and had a very very nice time but we didn't have sex." She could feel a heated blush stain her cheeks.

"That's more like it," Pansy nodded.

"And we aren't still engaging in that because I don't think we had similar motivations," Hermione finished despairingly.

Though Hermione felt relieved to finally speak her thoughts out loud, she was also disappointed. While those thoughts had remained unspoken, she could still pretend that she and Draco felt the same way. But now those words felt real and heavy and incontrovertible. She liked Draco. She liked him a lot. And she was sure that those feelings weren't returned.

Another sharp jab made Hermione yelp in pain.

"Pay attention to me, Draco," Pansy said edgily.

"Now, let me repeat myself. Clearly, you are the most oblivious male on this planet. Granger... Hermione has been moping all week. If she wasn't so stubborn, I'd say she was pining. But I don't think she's the type to actually pine."

Hermione smiled at the grudging admiration in Pansy's tone.

"As I was saying, I don't think she'll let herself pine. So she's doing what she can: she's keeping herself busy, running around, always in a hurry, and so intent on ignoring you, that her body language practically screams your arrival when you walk into a room."

Hermione said nothing and tried to smother the absolutely ridiculous burst of hope that threatened to drown her completely.

"Plus, Neville told me that Ron and Harry are really worried about her. And I can tell that Neville's worried, too. And to be honest, Draco, I just can't stand to see him upset about anything," she whined.

"So I think you should talk to her. There must have been some sort of misunderstanding. Work it out. Then she'll go back to being the insufferable know-it-all that we all know and love, and you'll stop your infuriating sulking, too, and Neville will be happy," she explained.

And truly, to hear Pansy tell it, it seemed like a completely reasonable thing to do.

Which didn't really explain why Hermione's heart started pounding and her palms felt sweaty. All she had to do was talk to him, right?

"Of course, I'm assuming that there was only a misunderstanding, right, Draco? I personally vouched for you, you know. I said that I couldn't believe that you would do anything that would warrant such a reaction on her part. And I had better be correct."

Pansy's hands had become merciless at this point, digging and prying and otherwise rendering Hermione into a mass of goo.

"No, I didn't do anything, Pansy. I'm not really sure what happened. I just know that things have been really strained since the morning after."

"Well, of course, they've been strained," Pansy said disdainfully. "I didn't see any owls bringing her flowers or a note or anything. I don't see you holding her books - I don't even see you two talking anymore. She probably feels entirely disrespected because I'll bet you didn't even acknowledge how special that night was for you."

"But it was special!" Hermione gasped.

"Well, if you don't tell her, how is she supposed to know?"

Hermione felt a little uneasy by Pansy's accusations and reasoning. She wondered what Pansy might do to her if she said that the other girl's expectations were sexist. Fearing the worst, she cleared her throat.

"Do you really think that, as the guy, it's my place to say that kind of thing? Should I really be giving her flowers and notes? Wouldn't that cheapen the experience?" Hermione reasoned.

"It has nothing to do with being a guy, you complete imbecile," Pansy scoffed.

"Don't you get it? You shared something with her. If you really care, then it's up to you to tell her. It doesn't matter whether or not you have a penis or a vagina or some combination of both!"

Pansy's anger was frightening.

"What matters is that you respect your lover. You tell your lover that she's special. And then you follow up by publicly treating her with civility. In your case, you could do this by carrying her books and walking her to class, sitting with her, giving her flowers... you know, boyfriend stuff," Pansy said forcefully, though the heat of her tone had begun to diminish.

Hermione hung her head. Had she really disrespected Draco? Was Pansy right? Did she just need to tell him how she really felt? Why was that prospect so terrifying? Where was her so-called Gryffindor courage now?

Pansy sat down on the bench next to Hermione.

"Maybe you should just tell me what happened?" she gently asked.

Hermione nodded. She really did want to figure this out.

***

Saturday morning...

Hermione awoke, feeling dazed but well-rested and warm. She felt practically buried in all of her soft bedclothes. She wrenched out a hand and pushed her bushy curls out of her face, relishing the cool air on her cheek.

She was so comfortable that she didn't want to move. And for several long luxurious minutes she ignored the need to go to the toilet.

When she could no longer ignore her body, she shifted a little and then became immediately aware that someone was sprawled out on top of her.

Flashbacks from the night before overwhelmed her then. Images of two bodies, hers and Draco Malfoy's, in the mirror threatened to give her on-the-spot hysterics. The kisses, the touches, the intimacy!

As she lay there, inundated by memories, she heard a low humming noise. Then she felt the body on top of hers- the much smaller body- began to stir. Those bushy curls that she'd just pushed out of her face were once again tickling her neck. She lay there very quietly, not daring to move - not even daring to open her eyes more than the briefest of cracks.

And she watched from beneath her lashes as Draco opened his brown eyes, yawned widely, and then assessed their situation. There was no apparent reaction of his part. In fact, if anything, he stretched his mouth into a slow lazy smile, put his head back down, and snuggled more deeply into her chest. It seemed to her that he fell back to sleep.

Hermione was perplexed by this, to say the least. And she wanted to say something, especially since he seemed to be in no hurry to leave. But she really really did need to go to the bathroom.

So, without saying anything at all, she slowly extricated herself from him and snuck out of her room on her tiptoes.

Once she'd taken care of her more pressing needs in the bathroom, she caught sight of herself in the mirror.

She gasped in shock.

She was naked, covered in marks and scratches, and her pale white blond hair was standing up in different directions. She looked thoroughly debouched.

Though the warmth of the bed and the person still in it was beyond tempting, she knew that what she really needed was a nice long shower.

Ultimately, that's what she chose.

By the time she finished and walked back into her room, the bed was empty. There was no note. Feeling slightly panicked, Hermione rushed out into the Common Room, clad only in a towel. Draco wasn't there. When she knocked on his door, he didn't answer. She wasn't even sure he was in there.

Hermione really didn't know what to think. And she couldn't quite explain why her insides felt like a fiery pit of anxiety.

****

Pansy sighed, "And that's what happened?"

Hermione nodded, at a loss to explain how things between her and Draco had gone downhill so quickly since Saturday morning.

"Well, you're just going to have to talk to her. You've got to tell her how you feel. You need to explain that you were stupid -"

"What?" Hermione interrupted.

"Please, Draco! You walked out on her. You didn't say anything. You just left. For all she knew, you were trying to sneak away like it never happened."

"But I had to take a piss!" Hermione yelled.

"Draco!"

"Argh! I'm sorry," Hermione moaned. "I really have to talk to her?"

Pansy raised a single eyebrow, crossed her arms, and glared.

"Okay, I'll do it," Hermione said, defeated.

"Good boy," Pansy returned. "Now put some clothes on. You've got to do patrols with her tonight."

Before Hermione could even sputter a reply, Pansy laughed and explained, "I traded with Blaise. So, now you've got an opportunity to talk to her."

She chuckled a little bit more before her face became serious once more.

"Draco, don't screw this up. You like her. And she likes you. It's been a long road for both of you to get here - in fact, it's been a long process just to get the school around you ready for the likes of you two together. But the school is ready - your friends are ready - your parents are a whole other story - but you two are ready, too. So, I repeat: Don't screw this up."

"My parents?" Hermione slowly repeated.

"Draco, don't even go there. Don't even bring your parents into this. You are not them," Pansy intoned.

Hermione looked at her blankly, the familiar words falling flat, "What do you mean?"

"Would you like to know what she says about you? Hermione Granger, the Great Mudblood herself, defends you- says that you are not your father- says that you needed your own space and your time to make your decisions."

Hermione eyes were as big as they could possibly be.

"Neville told me that, too," Pansy sniffed.

Hermione just nodded her head. Then she stood up, feeling a lot better about life in general, and, on impulse, pulled Pansy into a quick hug.

"Thanks, Pansy."

Pansy smirked, pinched her arm and then sauntered out of the boy's locker room.