Old Moon Fades

Old Moon Fades

Chapter Fourteen: Trust

"Harry, could I talk to you for a moment?" Ginny asked as she, Harry, and Ron walked back to the Quidditch tent after practice.

He cast a sideways glance her way his brow knitted in confusion, but nodded his head before turning towards Ron. "I'll catch up to you in a minute."

Ron didn't object but walked off shooting an icy glare at his sister. She knew that Ron was mad at her for interfering but she didn't care. His anger at her wasn't the problem; his anger at Hermione, however, was her problem. And she intended to solve it.

Harry stood awkwardly waiting for her to speak. He was caked in mud from the pitch and his robes were damp with sweat. The bridge of his nose was shiny and he had a smudge of dirt across his cheekbone. Ginny thought he looked wonderful. She knew that she must have looked like a fright but that this was probably the only time she'd have to speak with him privately. She gave up on vanity.

She'd tried talking to him before, right after the fight with Hermione but he always had an excuse. Homework. A chess-match with Ron. A trip to the library. She'd known the last one to be a lie because Hermione had been spending all her free time in the weeks after the fight in solitude of the library. Harry was just avoiding the problem. He didn't want to deal with it. And now Ginny wanted to know why.

She was tired of the fighting. She was tired of the tension, the practical hatred between Ron and Hermione. Harry had instigated it all and now wasn't claiming any of his own responsibility. They were all so stubborn. None of them were willing to be the first to admit they were wrong, and they'd all done something that warranted an apology. Well, maybe they didn't all have things to be sorry about. Hermione didn't. Not really. And once Harry knew what she knew he could try to smooth things out with Ron and she'd work on Hermione.

Discreetly Ginny scanned their surroundings for any eavesdroppers and spotted some younger students. She reached out and clutched his arm and dragged them out of earshot. He watched her curiously not saying anything but she could tell he was annoyed. She resolved to be brief.

"How tired are you of this stupid fight?" She asked quickly, cutting right to the chase.

He reared. "Ginny, it's not a stupid fight! Ron has every right to be mad at Hermione. She's been keeping secrets from us all term!" He was turning red in the face and his hands were clenched at his sides. Harry was definitely struggling to compose himself. "We deserve to know the truth!"

Patience Ginny, she told herself silently before addressing Harry again. "Did you ever even think that maybe she hasn't told either of you for a reason? That maybe she has some sort of rational explanation for it all? Did you ever even ask her!" She was trying to control her temper now. Harry's anger was getting to her. She was close to the edge. "Did you ever once consider that maybe, just maybe, she can't tell you!

Harry threw his arms up in the air and rolled his eyes angrily. "Ginny, this is just ridiculous! We're her best friends! We deserve to know the truth and to get mad if we don't. Ron has every right to get mad. She lied to us..." He paused momentarily as if realizing something for the first time. "Wait a minute... You know don't you? Hermione told you already, didn't she!" When Ginny didn't immediately respond he yelled, "DIDN'T SHE!"

"Whether she did or not, it's her business to tell whom she pleases. Maybe she didn't tell your or Ron because she knew that you would overreact and make trouble," she said haughtily, arms crossed over her chest as she stared down Harry. "For whatever reason, Hermione feels that she can't tell you the truth. Can you even begin to imagine the guilt she's carrying around because she can't tell you?" She took a step closer to Harry staring hard into his green eyes before continuing, "You know what Harry, I think you can..."

He flinched involuntarily at her words. He'd been listening only half-heartedly during her speech until that last sentence. As the veiled accusation fell from her lips Harry's eyes narrowed and she saw the muscle in his jaw twitch. That simple movement was all she needed to see to figure out that Harry had a secret too. What the secret actually was she didn't have the foggiest notion, but she'd watched all term as it slowly ate away at him.

At first she'd thought that it was because of Sirius' death or maybe Hermione's kidnapping. But this was more than just grief or anger. Harry had a secret and as far as she knew he hadn't told anyone, not even Ron.

Ginny thought of how differently Harry had been acting the past few months and thought she could trace the oddities all the way back to the beginning of that summer. When he'd first gone to stay with them at the Burrow she'd noticed. But Hermione's kidnapping had camouflaged his underlying feelings.

He'd been reserved, more reserved that was normal, and at first she'd brushed it off as sadness for Sirius and fear for Hermione. But they found her and she was alive and relatively well. When they all went to visit Hermione at St. Mungo's Ginny knew immediately that Hermione was keeping something from them. It wasn't long before Hermione had confided in her all the secrets of Malfoy's past.

Harry though... Harry was harder to peg and even harder to understand. Weeks had gone by and he'd only grown more reserved and withdrawn. And then, the night of the fight, Hermione had said something that instantly alerted Ginny. She'd mentioned the spheres, the prophecies at the Ministry. Ginny put two and two together and realized that somehow Harry had found out what his sphere that held his prophecy contained. Either he found out before it was destroyed or after, but Ginny was sure now that Harry knew. And now she was determined to find out what information the sphere contained.

* * *

Draco watched as Granger read the letter the first time. And the second. She sat in shock on the floor in front of his bookcase with his books piled around her, mingling with her own from the library. He moved away from the window toward the center of the room as she sat silently rereading the letter a third time. He longed to say something, anything to break the silence that attacked the room violently. But he couldn't. The words made their way to his lips but got caught in the growing lump in his throat. So he stood silently watching, waiting.

She was still staring at the letter clutched tightly in her chalk-white fingers. Her thick hair hung down over her slumped shoulders and obscured her face from view. He wanted to see her reaction, to note it and gauge it. He wanted to see her, to look into her eyes, but was afraid to. It was his fault, this situation with his father and now his mother, the entire ordeal was his fault. His stomach fell down to his knees when he realized what he'd just done. His mother was plotting Granger's death and he'd thought the smart thing to do was to show her? To flaunt it in her face? What was he thinking!

He approached her cautiously, hesitantly as he would a wounded animal if he was hunting. But Granger wasn't an animal. She was there now, sitting right in front of him. He'd brought her here, lead her even, only to dangle the daunting information of her own imminent death right in front of her. Guilt poured in waves down on him. He wanted to apologize, to say something to justify the guilt his felt. It wasn't something he was used to. He didn't even know how to apologize. But the hollow part of his heart was forcing him to comfort her, and himself, anyway that it could.

"Granger, are you alright?" He took another step closer but she still wouldn't look up at him. He'd have to try harder to get her to understand how sorry he was. "I should have warned you about the letter. It was inconsiderate of me..." He cut himself off unintentionally when she finally brought her eyes up to meet his for the first time since he'd handed her the letter. Maybe she did understand.

Her eyes were dark pools of emotion, fearful, haunting. Trusting. It was the blind trust in her eyes that stilled him. Why should she trust him? He'd just brought news that his mother was plotting to kill her. She sat on the floor of his room scared and alone, the tears in her eyes glistening in the sun. But she trusted him. For some unknown reason she had put her faith in him. It was a disconcerting feeling. He was afraid of it, weary of it, but he was heartened by it too.

"It's not your fault," her voice was barely a whisper and he heard the rumble of approaching tears. He didn't know what to do. For the first time in his life he was at a loss.

"I don't know how to stop her. She won't understand. She thinks she's doing me a favor," he stopped and looked at her; she was looking up at him with an expression he'd never seen before. He couldn't place it. Suddenly he felt such immense guilt pressing down on him. Slowly he sank down onto the floor next to her. "I had no idea. I'm so sorry."

Over the course of the term the guilt had gnawed at him gradually, bit by bit, tearing down his walls, his defense. And now he had no idea what to do next but to ask help from the last person in the world he'd ever have expected to give it. He tried but he couldn't take his eyes off the girl sitting beside him. The letter lay in a heap in her lap still entwined with her fingers. Chestnut curls hung heavily over her shoulders and brushed the collar of her sweater. He felt cold all of a sudden and chills danced along his spine, creeping up to wreak havoc at his neck and in the tips of his fingers. The empty feeling in his stomach grew more expansive until it felt like a giant hole that his heart would fall through. Draco didn't know what to do.

As if sensing his confusion she folded the letter neatly back up and placed in gingerly into its envelope. She looked at him shyly before standing up slowly. He stood up with her.

Granger's voice was quiet and tender when she spoke. "You didn't have to show me this." She paused as if searching for the right words, as if there could be words appropriate for a situation like this. "You took a chance in trusting me with this information. The very least I could do would be to offer the same trust in you."

He stood up facing her, the confusion and anger seeping out. "This is different! Don't you get it! My mother is trying to have you killed! Because of ME! Because of what I did to you this summer!"

Her face registered emotions that he couldn't begin to comprehend at the mention of that summer, but she quickly schooled her features. "What happened this summer only proves to me that you were brave enough to fight something that you didn't agree with. It only proves to me that you are your own person, separate from your parents, and your ideals are your own. Not theirs."

She took a step closer to him and he felt that hole in his stomach expand further. He felt his heart beating erratically at the look in her eyes. When she spoke again he could hardly listen to what she said so intent was his observation of her features. "It takes more courage and bravery to stand up to something that everyone you love believes." She put her hand on his arm. It felt like fire. He couldn't speak. "You challenged things that have been ingrained in your being since birth. In a lot of ways I think you are more brave than anyone I've ever known. You're certainly more brave than I'll ever be."

Her eyes were searching his. Draco wanted desperately to flee, to run from her and the feelings that were threatening to overwhelm him. She looked like she was waiting for something. He didn't know what, if anything he could say. He didn't feel brave or courageous. He felt like a coward. "I'm not. If I were brave then I'd have stood up to my father long ago. I didn't even know that I disagreed with him until it was over. I don't think I realized it even then. No, I wasn't brave. I was a coward."

"What was the first thing you did when you read this letter?" Granger held the letter in her hand and pushed it at him slowly.

He was confused, not really sure what she was asking. "I came to find you. I was worried for you."

She smiled quietly and he saw the tears again in her eyes. "See, the very first thing you did wasn't to wallow in sorrow at the information of your birth. You did the courageous thing and came to find me. You cared more for someone else than you did for yourself. That is the bravest thing any person could do."

"I just wanted you to know." He didn't know what to say, he was so unused to this kind of conversation. "I'm not sure how to act around you anymore. I don't want to hate you but I'm afraid not to. I've never felt... I've never been unsure of myself before. I don't know what to do to help you." The words had spilled out of his mouth without his even realizing it. He should have been embarrassed, but he wasn't.

A tear slipped down her cheek. Her eyelashes were moist and full. Something inside him broke. He didn't want the weight of his guilt anymore. He wanted to be free of it. And the way she was looking at him made him think that maybe the possibility that he could change existed.

"We'll figure out what to do. We should go to Dumbledore. He'll know what to do about your mother."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"I trust him. And I trust you. For some unknown reason we were thrown into this together. We'll get through it together too. If you trust me. Do you?"

He wanted to. He wanted to have someone that wouldn't let him down. But he didn't know if he could let anyone in just yet.

"Malfoy, it's alright, you can trust me." She moved even closer, so close that he could smell the rose scent of her hair. It was distracting, intoxicating. He watched as another tear slipped down her cheek following the same path as the one that fell before.

"I can't. Not yet." He was so much quieter than he intended to be. Another tear fell from her eyes and then several more. She didn't wipe them away. Without meaning to he felt his hand reach up hesitantly to brush them away from her cheek. He was so surprised by the action that he didn't immediately notice it. She was still looking up at him with her amber colored eyes. At that moment he wanted nothing more than to stop her tears, whatever the cost. "This is the most I can offer you right now."

She nodded her tears flowing freely now. "I understand. If you can't trust me then I'll have to trust you enough for the both of us." She reached up and placed her hand over his where it still rested lightly on her cheek. "The simple fact that we are standing here together and aren't shouting at each other is proof enough to me that we have some hope of coming through this."

He couldn't say anything. It was so completely foreign to him just being in the same room as Hermione, breathing the same air. He felt like he was someone else, someone who could feel things for someone else. It scared him, the possibility that he had a future, a future where he wasn't alone.

She stepped back from him and he felt the void rise up under his heart. "Um... we should probably go see Dumbledore now. That is if it's alright with you. It is your letter after all."

"Uh, sure. If you think that's the best decision." He didn't want to see Dumbledore. He wanted to figure this out alone. He had no idea where to start though. And she was looking at him with such hope that he'd say yes that he couldn't say no. He was too guilty. He'd give in to her. Just this time. Next time though he'd put his foot down. He couldn't have her thinking that she could just get him to agree to anything she suggested.

She smiled a genuine smile, a beautiful smile, when he agreed. Hermione's eyes were still glistening above her flushed cheeks, but he didn't mind. She started gathering up her books and placing them carefully back into her book-bag. He stooped to help her even though he was so unused to being nice to her. They began putting his books back onto his shelf when she suddenly looked over his shoulder towards the window.

"Malfoy, what time is it? It's getting rather dark outside," she sounded surprised as she took her eyes from the window and rested them on his own.

He glanced up to the small clock on the wall behind her, "Quarter of 7."

Her eyes widened in shock. "Oh, no! We're missing dinner! How long have we been here? Somebody is surely looking for us!"

"Relax, Granger. It's not like we missed a class or something. Dinner's only half over. If you want we can hold off telling Dumbledore til after dinner."

"No! I think we should tell Dumbledore immediately! Dinner can wait." quickly she gathered up her things and stood up. "I don't see how the afternoon passed so quickly without us noticing."

He had noticed. He'd felt every intense second of it pass by. But he didn't say anything. Instead he strode to the door and opened it for her. She looked up at him, surprise and admiration visible in her eyes. He felt his chest puff up a bit. When he moved to follow her out of his room he bumped into her from behind. She was frozen in place. He looked over her shoulder in confusion.

The warm feeling in his stomach immediately dissipated. As he stared into Harry Potter's face he felt his blood chill in frozen anger. Slowly, methodically, he put his hand on Granger's shoulder. Potter tensed even more. Draco let his hand slide maliciously down her arm and wrap itself around her hand, entwining her fingers with his own. She turned to him in confusion.

"Come on Hermione, we've got business to take care of."

He started walking down the corridor. She followed him, hand in hand. Potter stared at them as the two made their way past him. He could feel Granger's hand trembling in his own. He glanced down at her face as they walked and saw a tear trickle down her cheek. He felt hollow inside.