Old Moon Fades

"Old Moon Fades"

Chapter Seventeen: "Old Habits Die Hard"

Hermione felt all the blood drain away from her face and knew that if she hadn't already been sitting down, she would have fallen.

Harry really did have a prophecy? That is what had been in the sphere? It hadn't been destroyed?

She was thinking so quickly, not really listening anymore to what Dumbledore was saying that when she heard him speak of another prophecy her heart felt like it stopped.

Draco also has a prophecy?

This day was just getting to be too much. There were too many new revelations, too many heart stopping moments. If her days continued on like this she'd be grey-headed before she turned twenty.

As Dumbledore spoke she felt Draco's hand tighten reflexively in hers. She'd forgotten that she'd reached out earlier and taken his hand in her own. Honestly, Hermione hadn't really realized that she'd done it until she felt his fingers wrap themselves up in her fingers. It was a gesture that she would have done for Harry or Ron if one of them was distressed. That she did the same for Draco was very surprising to her. Draco wasn't Harry and he certainly wasn't Ron. Up until a half hour ago he hadn't even really been Draco... he'd been Malfoy. And Malfoy wasn't her friend. She briefly considered withdrawing her hand but she didn't. Malfoy would never be her friend, he would never hold her hand, or wipe away her tears, or speak soft words into her ear as she cried. Draco had. Draco had done all of those things, things that even the two people she considered to be her best friends in the entire world wouldn't do, and hadn't done for her.

It was so strange to think that even a week ago she wouldn't have pictured herself as she did now. Yet, here she was, sitting in Dumbledore's office with her hand in Draco Malfoy's. Hermione wondered what Dumbledore thought of this change. surely he had noticed their hands by now. He'd probably noticed out in the hallway when he first greeted them. She'd been so embarrassed, mortified even, that the Headmaster had seen her holding his hand. Draco's hand. She felt for a moment like she was betraying her friends, the Order, everything that she stood for as a person, simply by holding his hand. It was silly, she knew, but it hurt just the same. If Harry or Ron had seen them in the hallway, their friendship would be over forever. If it wasn't over already, that is. When Harry had seen them outside Draco's room earlier, the hurt evident on his face, was probably the breaking point. When Draco put his arm around her, claiming her, he had more than likely just nailed the coffin shut on their friendship.

Dumbledore addressed her again and she fought for the control to listen. "It is not up to me whether you should stay or go; I believe that decision is up to Mr. Malfoy."

She dropped her eyes down to her lap. It really was no business of hers, hearing Draco's prophecy. But more than anything she wanted to know what it was. Maybe he would take that first step in trusting her enough to let her in.

He spoke softly, his voice firm even though it was quiet. "She can stay."

She looked over at Draco now, all her doubts about his faith in her abolished. He trusted her enough to let her stay, to let her hear the prophecy. That meant more to her than all the gifts in the world. It was a small step, yes, but it was the first step. Maybe it would lead to other steps, larger ones. He watched her carefully, his feelings guarded. She was so happy that it didn't matter that he wasn't smiling back at her.

Dumbledore spoke again, his years showing themselves more than she'd ever noticed before. He looked sad, defeated even, but there was a glimmer of something there. Hope, maybe? The Headmaster spoke of hiring Professor Trelawney and his meeting with her seventeen years before. She wanted to snort in indignation at the thought of his actually hiring her, but kept it to herself. He skipped over the part about Harry's prophecy and she felt disappointment at not having heard it all. By the time he'd gotten to the words of Draco's prophecy her heart was pounding in her chest and there was a roaring in her ears that she felt certain everyone else in the room could hear. Draco again tightened his grip on her hand but she really didn't think he'd noticed what he'd done. Her fingers ached with all the tension, her bones crackling with the invisible weight of fear.

As the words of the prophecy sunk in deeply into her skin she felt heavy, like the weight of all the world's problems had somehow been embedded in her skin, inside her very being. She couldn't begin to imagine how Draco must feel. He was tense, she gathered that much from the death grip he had on her hand. She looked over at him, studied him as she had done before in the library. He looked different somehow, older perhaps. That would make sense, they'd learned enough today to turn any young wizard into an old one.

His eyes were unfocused, dark silver, as they stared blankly out in front of him. His hand that had been so warm just moments before had turned to ice. And yet he sat there in Dumbledore's chair as if it were a throne. The prophecy had called him a Prince; never before had she seen someone who embodied that title so appropriately. Every line of his body was rigid, his face a collection of sharp angles and flat planes. She remembered that before that summer he'd looked so much like Lucius. Now that she knew the truth she realized that he didn't look like the elder Malfoy at all. It wasn't that he looked different; it was that he looked more... like himself. Hermione wondered if there had been magic placed on him as a baby, a glamour or ward of some kind to keep people from suspecting the truth. It was a topic she would have to research later.

She was startled out of her thoughts when Draco stood up abruptly. He didn't let go of her hand as he turned to face Dumbledore. "I think I'll be leaving now, Professor."

Dumbledore stood up from his chair, his arms open, welcoming. His voice was placating as he spoke. "Mr. Malfoy, I understand that this is a difficult..."

Draco interrupted him quickly with an angry wave of his hand.

"Yeah, it's just that I've got homework to do... and as much as I would like to stay and chat," he spit out angrily before pulling Hermione to her feet as well, "I've other important matters to attend to. Maybe next week you and I can plan a tea party and invite St. Potter and all the other Gryffindors."

Again Dumbledore spoke, the hope fracturing against Draco's icy demeanor. "Draco, I don't think..."

Draco's voice was ice as he spoke. Each word dripping from his mouth, freezing before it fell to the ground. "We can all sit around exchanging prophecies and swapping recipes," His eyes were harsh and cold, unflinching. "Maybe we can even convince Professor Snape to bake biscuits." He sneered at Dumbledore one last time as he turned to go, pulling Hermione along with him. Dumbledore's voice called them back, however.

Dumbledore came around to the front of his desk, his robes following restlessly behind him. "You know, Mr. Malfoy, that's not a bad idea."

Draco turned back around suddenly, away from the door. As he faced the Headmaster, he didn't even try to mask the contempt in his voice as he replied. "If you think I'm seriously going to have Potter over for tea, you're sadly mistaken, Professor."

Dumbledore shook his head slowly. Hermione marveled at his patience with Draco. If it had been anyone else she was sure they'd have lashed out at that level of impertinence. "No, that wasn't what I meant. I just thought that perhaps you and Harry should get together to discuss the implications of your prophecies. It doesn't hurt to look for a second opinion. Who knows, the two of you might work something out," Draco tried to cut in but Dumbledore raised his hand for silence. "I'll arrange it."

Draco didn't even reply as he stormed from the office. Hermione looked back apologetically at the Headmaster and let herself be pulled from the room.

Once they were back out in the hallway he didn't immediately let go of her hand. If anything, he gripped it more tightly. She could feel the rage, the confusion, boiling in his body despite how cold he felt. She could tell that he wanted to yell or throw something in his anger but he didn't. Hermione was again surprised at the level of control he had even with the depth of his anger.

She moved closer to him and with her other hand, the one not holding his, reached up and touched his arm in what she hoped would be seen as a reassuring gesture. As her fingers made contact with his robes and the skin beneath them she felt him tense. He turned toward her slowly, each sharp angle of his face accentuated by the moonlight streaming down from the windows.

His eyes were dark, full of feeling and emotion. She swam in them. She'd meant to say something to him, something supportive, but realized suddenly that she couldn't. Her voice had lodged itself somewhere down around her ankles. Her breath came in short, shallow gasps as she watched the moonlight caress his hair and face. He really was much too handsome for his own good. The shadows settled sensually on his features, hollowing out his cheeks and mouth. His hair hung down in his eyes and she had to resist the urge to push it back up on his forehead. He watched her from behind the cold darkness of his eyes.

He sounded irritated when he spoke. It seemed incongruent that his face could be so beautiful and his words could sound so harsh. "It's a good thing we're both prefects because it's after curfew and I'm starving."

She could tell that he was resorting to humor to mask his true feelings about their recent knowledge, but his voice betrayed him. The moonlight betrayed him.

Hermione took a small step closer, her eyes filled with concern. "Don't you want to talk about this? I mean, dinner can wait after all."

He didn't look at her when he spoke again, choosing rather to turn toward the window. Draco's voice was sharp, like a knife. "I'd rather not. Listen, Granger. I know that you think this was all just great fun and that I did you some wonderful service by letting you stay," He turned back to look at her, contempt written plainly on his face. "But, don't flatter yourself. I just didn't want to get a lecture on "Inter-House Unity" from Dumbledore had I made you leave." He turned back to the window away from her gaze. His grip was tight and uncaring on her hand. It hurt.

She pulled her hand out of his, unconsciously rubbing the bruise that was just beginning to mottle her skin, and stepped back involuntarily. Her voice was no more than a whisper when she spoke. "You don't mean that."

Quickly, he spun back towards her, advancing upon her like a predator. "Of course I do. You didn't honestly think I put so much stock into your foolish ideas of trust, did you? It's the one thing I've learned, Granger, never put faith in anyone but yourself. Nobody cares. If they say that they do then they're lying," He took a step closer to her, his anger outlined in the stance of his body. "You're more naïve than I thought if you believed for one minute that I actually wanted you around, that I trusted you."

Hermione felt stung, the words he spoke were biting and her self-conscious nature gave in to them. But instead of sorrow at the knowledge that she'd imagined every moment of growth between them, she felt anger. She did the first thing she thought of, she slapped him hard across the face, her hand leaving an imprint on his cheek.

He looked stunned but only for a second. Then he sneered. "That's good. You're learning."

He looked so cruel in that moment with the sneer plastered on his face. She hadn't seen that look since...

Every memory of that summer came rushing back in that moment and haunted her. His sneer, his eyes so dark and cold, even his stance reminded her of that summer, when he'd tried to kill her. She recoiled from him, from the anger permeating the air around him like a perfume.

She took a step back, lost in the memory of his knife held to her throat, of his body standing over her as he kicked her maliciously in her side. Why had she ever thought that he could change? Why had she ever believed him capable of any type of feeling, of any type of human emotion? He wasn't human. He was a monster. A silver-haired, beautiful monster, more deadly than all the magical creatures in the wizarding world. He'd fooled her so completely, so utterly that she felt stupid for not having seen it before. Harry and Ron had tried to tell her, they'd tried to protect her but she hadn't listened. She'd believed for one moment that Draco Malfoy was capable of love and in that one moment she had been betrayed.

For a second she thought she saw him falter. She thought that the sneer dropped for just one moment. She couldn't trust it anymore, him or her own heart.

She turned and ran.

* * *

"Ginny, can I talk to you for a minute?"

Harry was sitting in a chair in front of the fireplace in the Gryffindor Common Room when Ginny and Ron came back from dinner. Ginny immediately knew that something was amiss. Harry's body was too rigid, too tense. His fingers had a callous grip on the arm of the chair. The younger students sitting about the Common Room glanced wearily at Harry and kept at a distance. He'd been waiting for them to come back from dinner. Ron looked over at her carefully and announced that he was going to bed. Ginny silently thanked him and turned again toward Harry.

"Why didn't you come to dinner?" Ginny bit out before controlling her temper and speaking more carefully. "Is this about Hermione and what I said earlier?"

Harry stood up and walked closer, away from the ears of the younger Gryffindors. "No, it's not. Listen, the Common Room isn't exactly the ideal place for this conversation." He latched onto her elbow and pulled her even further away from the others straining to hear their conversation. "Can we go somewhere more private?"

"Uhh... Sure, I guess." His grip on her arm was nerve-wracking. This entire conversation was nerve-wracking. She had to concentrate to get her voice to sound normal and nonchalant. "Where did you have in mind?"

"The Room of Requirement."

Oh.

Something in her face must have betrayed her shock at Harry's request because when he spoke he was almost pleading. Harry never pleaded.

"Look, I wouldn't ask to go there unless it was really important and that is the only place where we can have privacy."

She nodded her head quickly. "Alright, Harry. If that's where you want to go."

He still had a hold on her elbow as he steered her toward the portrait hole. "You ready?"

She ripped her elbow from the death grip he had on it and squealed, "What now?!"

"Yes, now." He looked annoyed and out of patience.

"But, it's almost curfew..." Not that Ginny Weasley had ever been afraid of pushing the curfew laws, it was just the only sane thing could think of at that moment.

Harry stopped and met her eyes with frustration, his annoyance barely controlled as he bit out the words. "I'll bring my invisibility cloak if it makes you feel better."

"Are you sure you want to talk about this now?" She couldn't help asking, even if she risked his anger.

"Ginny, I just want to get this over with. I have to tell you now or I'm afraid I won't ever tell anybody." It was the need in his eyes that compelled her to agree. His deep, green eyes that had never looked upon her so intently before. She didn't care that the other students were watching them carefully, their own tasks abandoned for the much more interesting scene playing out by the portrait hole.

"Alright, then. I'm ready whenever you are."

"I'll just get my cloak. See you in a minute." He looked relieved and nervous as he spoke.

He reached up and squeezed her arm in what could be seen as a friendly gesture before running up the stairs to the boys' dormitory. The spot on her arm was warm and tingled as she waited for him to come back down. Ginny fidgeted nervously under the curious gaze of the other Gryffindors. In less than a minute Harry came practically flying down the stairs, ignorant of the watchful eyes of the other students. Ginny ignored them and the whispers that erupted as soon as she and Harry stepped out into the hallway.

The walk toward the Room of Requirement was silent. Neither spoke in Harry's rush to reach their destination. Ginny had absolutely no clue what to expect from the discussion they would apparently be having in just a few minutes' time. There was a knot in her stomach as she pondered the possibilities... would Harry be telling her that he now saw her as more than just his best friend's little sister, maybe that he saw her as the young woman that she had become in the last few years? They were no longer children, any of them. The experiences they'd shared had led to their early induction into the world of adulthood. Maybe, just maybe, Harry had noticed that she had grown up, too.

Ginny took no notice of the fact that they'd arrived at the Room of Requirement. Harry was pacing back and forth in front of the blank expanse of wall, concentrating intently on his purpose. What purpose would that be, Ginny wondered. On his third trip in front of the wall, the door appeared. The last time Ginny had been here was at the final D.A. meeting previous year. It brought back hollow memories. Harry held the door open for her as she stepped through. Harry glanced around the corridor before stepping through behind her.

The room was plain, only two chairs and a small table sat in the middle of the expansive space. The sconces on the walls glowed brightly, but otherwise it was very bare. Ginny sighed softly. It was a letdown.

She was annoyed and didn't try to mask it when she spun around and faced Harry. "Alright, Harry. So what is all this about?"

He shut the door soundly behind him and muttered a locking charm before turning around to face her. He met her eyes resolutely, any hint of nervousness gone, replaced with determination and purpose. "You were right. Earlier," he spoke shortly, with clipped words and a tight voice. When he opened his mouth again the traces of annoyance he'd had earlier in the day were back. "Not about Hermione, cause you are very much wrong about that."

She rolled her eyes in response. Typical, she thought. She didn't say anything, just crossed her arms over her chest and waited.

"But, you were right about the other thing." Harry's voice was low and dark, the words barely making their way to Ginny's ears. She didn't mask her surprise or confusion, it wasn't her nature.

"What other thing?" She spoke just as quietly, just as intently as Harry had. Her eyes trained on him for any sort of response, verbal or otherwise.

He didn't make eye contact with her and it was several minutes before he spoke again. Instead he walked past her to one of the arm chairs in the center of the room and sank down into it, resting his head in his hands. The words were black and filled with emotions that Ginny couldn't name or attempt to categorize. She was silent as he spoke. "About me knowing what Hermione was going through? Not being able to tell anyone about something. You know, a secret."

She slowly walked over to him and took her place in the chair next to his. Her voice was barely above a whisper when she replied. "What are you saying?"

"You were right," If she felt any sort of victory in his admission she didn't act on it. Instead she reached over and placed her hand on his, urging him to continue. His voice was calm and quiet, reserved as he spoke. "I do have a secret and it's eating me up inside. I have to tell someone. I have to tell you, Ginny." He looked up at her as he spoke her name.

The questions raced through her mind, though she knew they would go unanswered. Why her? Why not Ron? He met her eyes reluctantly.

"What, Harry? What is it?"

"You have to promise not to say a word to anyone, especially not Ron. I'll tell him when the time is right. I can't now, not with everything he is going through about Hermione."

"Of course. I promise I won't say a word." She nodded her head emphatically, attempting to convey her sincerity. When he didn't immediately speak up she squeezed his hand in reassurance.

He met her eyes for a moment before scanning the room. "You know that night, at the Ministry? The night that Sirius... the night that we were attacked in the Department of Mysteries?"

"Yes. The bell-jars and the brains. I remember." Ginny leaned forward in her chair as she listened carefully to Harry's hushed voice.

"There was one with my name on it. My name and Voldemort's." He still wouldn't meet her eyes and his gaze settled on the door to the corridor.

Ginny's heart rate was up and pounding in her chest. "Yeah, it broke. Didn't it? I mean, nobody knew what it was."

He looked at her from the corner of his eye, his voice still quiet and simmering. "Yeah, it broke. But, Dumbledore knew. Dumbledore has known since before I was born."

Ginny nearly fell out of her seat with amazement. "You're not serious! You mean he knew this entire time and never said anything?!" The grip she had on his hand was slippery with tension and nerves.

Harry's gaze dropped to the ground and he didn't answer for a moment. When he spoke again his voice was resolute, unflinching. "He told me that night once we all got back to Hogwarts. Or rather, he showed me in his Pensieve."

"Well, go on!"

Harry stood up from his chair quickly and began pacing in front of her. He ran a hand through his already untidy hair and gazed at her nervously. "It was a prophecy concerning me and Voldemort. Well, it could have been either Neville or me, but Voldemort chose me instead. Ahh! I'm not making any sense am I?"

Ginny scooted to the edge of her seat and faced him. She desperately wanted to know what this prophecy was. "No, not really. Why don't you start from the beginning."

In the next half hour Harry detailed for Ginny exactly what Dumbledore had told him. Ginny listened carefully, thoughtfully, waiting for him to finish before speaking. The news of the prophecy was a shock to say the least and she didn't exactly know what to make of it. Harry looked equally confused and angry too. Ginny briefly wished that it was Hermione that Harry confided in and not herself. Hermione would have known instantly what to do and what to say to relieve Harry's worries. Ginny was in over her head.

"So basically, either he has to kill you or you have to kill him. Is that right?" Ginny's voice was whisper-quiet and her hands were clammy and cold. She turned to face Harry, urging him to return her gaze.

He had moved back to his chair after telling her of the prophecy and now he dropped his head into his hands. His voice was muffled as it traveled up through his hair and robes to her ears, "That's what I get out of it anyway. I'll either be killed or become a murderer... either way it's a lose-lose situation."

Ginny reached over in sympathy and patted him on the back. His robes were scratchy and rough under her fingers and she could feel the heat of him permeating through the woolen fabric. She tried to sound reassuring when she spoke, "We'll come up with something Harry, I'm sure of it. It doesn't have to be like this. There has got to be some other way."

"I don't know, Gin... I mean it's not like I wasn't expecting something like this to happen one day anyway. A part of me always knew that Voldemort might really kill me."

She sucked in a breath at the mention of his name. She knew she was treading on dangerous ground here. She was Harry's only confidante at the moment and she wanted him to trust her. "Harry, I have complete faith in you. You are a powerful wizard, more powerful than anyone I've ever known. If anyone can defeat Volde- Voldemort, it's you, Harry.

Harry picked his head up from his hands and looked at, really looked at her for the first time that evening. She could feel it in her skin. His gaze was penetrating and deep. She wondered if this was the first time that he ever really "saw" her. It was disconcerting.

"Thanks, Gin. For everything. I mean it," he stood up slowly and she did the same. He glanced down at his watch and grimaced. "It's past curfew. We'd better get back soon."

"Already?" The word slipped out unintentionally and Ginny suppressed a groan of embarrassment. She glanced quickly over at Harry to see if he'd noticed. He was just smiling at her fondly.

"We'll have to share my cloak. Don't want to chance Filch catching us." Harry scooped up the cloak from where it had been resting on the floor and held it out.

Ginny didn't say anything and just stepped up close to him as he swept the cloak around them. She could feel him even though they weren't touching. He was warm and alive. He didn't seem to be as unsettled by their proximity as she was. He had to crouch down to stay on the level with her and keep their feet from poking out beneath the hem of the cloak.

The door creaked open as they stepped out into the hallway. Ginny couldn't see anyone in the corridor and breathed a sigh of relief. They made their way silently through the 7^th floor corridor back to Gryffindor tower. The moon was bright and light poured through the windows casting shadows that played on the floor and walls around them.

They were almost to the portrait hole when Harry stiffened beside her. He seemed to be having a hard time holding the cloak over them and so he stopped them. Silently he wrapped his arm around her back and pulled her closer. He covered her mouth with his hand and pulled her head into his chest as he backed them up against the wall. That's when Ginny heard it; someone was coming down the hallway. They weren't even bothering to be quiet.

Her head was pressed up against Harry's chest and she could hear his heart beating frantically beneath it. His hand was still clamped over her mouth and she couldn't see who was running down the hallway. She felt Harry raise up from the wall and take a step toward the person. He dropped his hand from her mouth and grabbed her arm instead. She looked up dazed as Harry pulled the cloak from them. She still couldn't see who it was.

Harry's voice was thick and heavy as it called out across the corridor.

"Hermione!"