Clandestine Whispers

>>>>>4 Almost Dying

Draco Malfoy sighed.

He hated when he got insomnia. Tired, wanting to sleep, yet also fitful with fear of his nightmares, school stress, and haunted with Hermione Granger's face looming in front of him. He thought over the events of the day. Oh, how humiliating it had been, losing that Quidditch match to Potter. But to tell the truth, he didn't care that much just today. He was too occupied with others thoughts, other pain.

Every day, constantly when he wasn't in class, he thought of Hermione Granger. She was infiltrating his mind, his eyes, his life! He should never have started study sessions with her; he shouldn't even have ever talked to her. Things should be like they used to be, with him insulting her, hating Potter and Weasley, getting revenge for lost Quidditch games. He used to have fun being like that, bullying the trio, making fun of Scarhead, Weasel, and the Mudblood. But it wasn't satisfactory anymore. No matter how much he knew, that, as a Pureblood, he should be properly adjusting the levels of those inferior to him who rebelled and thought otherwise--like Granger--he neglected those duties.

He couldn't make himself do that anymore. He didn't want to do everything that was expected of him anymore, he was sick of it, had been doing it for years. And he had just begun to find that other side of Granger today. He had made himself forget about the envelope, but had never forgotten his promise to himself that he would find the other personality of Hermione Granger. She wasn't just a studious, bookworm muggle-born. No, there was more to her, there had to be, just as there was more to him.

Giving up on trying to sleep, he stood up and prepared to go outside.

~~*~~

When he heard noise that was when Draco began to doubt he would ever get true time alone. No matter where he went in or out of Hogwarts castle, unless it was in his Slytherin dormitory asleep on his bed, there was always someone around! It was beginning to seriously frustrate him.

That's when he realized who it was.

She looked to be the Wind goddess, her wavy, brown hair whipping to and fro about her shoulders, her nightgown fluttering shyly around her knees. Her cloak had fallen to the ground, so great was the force of the night wind. And her eyes. They glowed with such emotion, such determination, that he could see them even from the distance he stood from her.

For a long time, he watched her, just standing. Was she really going to try and...?

She slowly, as if hesitant, put her leg over the broom.

"Stop, Granger!"

But she didn't hear him, and before he could stop her, and had swung out into the raging night, atop a broomstick she knew not how to direct. Before even a wisp of doubt could come into his head, Draco yelled, "accio broom!" and jumping onto his broom with swift grace, swung out into the wind after her.

The wind was a terrible force, raging and wailing at him like a thousand howlers. He could barely see her anymore. She was a tiny speck that whipped wildly back and forth, uncontrolled, through the sky. Suddenly, he saw that Hermione was going to slam into the castle. Her broom was zooming straight towards it, the wind pushing the tiny projectile towards it with force. Head and torso lowered, Draco Malfoy sped faster on a broom than he'd ever in his life. Faster than in any Quidditch match, he would have matched the Snitch's speed of 70 or so mph. Her broom quickly sped faster and faster towards her impending doom, her cry of help becoming lost in the wind, her fear of brooms, heights, plus the force of nature beating against her made her lose her grip on the broom.

The fall was as high as from the very highest tower of Hogwarts, all the way down the ground. A fatal fall that would surely end in death.

"No!"

He zoomed down, down, closer, closer...

~~*~~

And caught her.

But just then, the wind picked up, and he made sure to hold his precious luggage in such a way that all the impact of hitting the ground, hard, would come to him, not Hermione.

They landed in a grove of trees and bushes, sheltered a bit from the fierce angry wind. For a few moments, Draco just lay there. On landing on the earth, he had skidded, and his back now felt on fire. He closed his eyes, drifting in and out of consciousness. Oh, how much it hurt, how many horrid memories and images it brought back...

"Draco? Draco! Oh, you saved me; oh you don't know how much this means to me, I was so stupid, ohh..." Hermione buried her head in his shoulder, her sobs shaking the both of them, tears falling profusely. He wrapped one arm around her, awkwardly patting her back in a comforting way. Finally, he opened his eyes.

Even with a tear streaked face, hair and clothes in disarray; he still found the sight of her comforting. Slowly, desperately trying not to strain his back, he stood up, leaning against the tree behind him. Hermione followed suit. She stood, half leaning against him, half supporting herself, her eyes shining with an overload of emotion.

No doubtful thoughts passed through her mind, no disturbing realization came to her, as he reached to cup her chin, thumb grazing the soft skin of her cheek. She was as captivated by him just as he was with her. His grey-blue eyes glinted with a look she had never before seen. And his pale hair seemed silver in the iridescent glow of the moon. In a voice so soft, so unusual coming from him, yet so genuine, sincere, and loving that it brought her almost to tears, Draco said, "Oh Hermione...you're beautiful," and bending slightly, met her lips softly with his own.

It was unlike anything either of them had ever experienced before. Hermione, so overwhelmed by the recent events and so emotional with grateful and excited feelings was she, that she didn't even protest, doubt, or refuse his lips' touch. As a spark between them was ignited, their need of each other grew, and, enjoying the soft silk of her smooth, full lips, Draco pressed his mouth against hers repeatedly, their kisses blending together as their lips refused to separate for more than a moment, not more than a fraction of an inch away.

And then they reluctantly broke their fusion, and, breathless, gazed into each other eyes momentarily. Then, they reacted in their different ways. Hermione, still filled with want but now guilt, doubt and questions of why and how creeping into her mind, stared at her feet. Draco immediately flushed, and, embarrassed because he had initiated the action, refused to look directly at Hermione.

Finally, Hermione grabbed his chin, gently tugging it, forcing him to look at her. "Dra-Malfoy..." she stood there, lost for words all of a sudden, not knowing what to call him by anymore. His grin in reply made her stomach flutter. But then his face became neutral once more, the only sign of his emotion being the fierce flashing of his grey eyes, as he said, "What on earth were you doing out here anyway?" Hermione blushed, averting her eyes. Finally, she blurted out quietly, "I just always wondered what it was like to fly a broom because it looks so fun and it's the only thing I can't learn how to do properly with a book. But, I have a slight fear of heights and...I'm not," she squirmed, "let's just call it, uh, broom oriented. Yes, I'm not broom-oriented."

Draco smiled, this time closer to his normal, haughty smirk. Usually this would make her angry, but now, Hermione just changed the subject, saying, "And what were you doing out on the Quidditch field at night? Stalking me?" he grinned, giving her cheek a little pinch. "No, Hermione. I couldn't sleep, so I was planning to take a walk around, and-" he was cut off, as suddenly, he grimaced, groaning in pain.

Worry immediately crossed Hermione's face. "What's wrong, Draco?"

"...I...the land on the ground...skidded.., my back...."

"Oh, c'mon than, hurry, we've got to get you to the hospital wing! Quickly, follow me, I know a shortcut." Grabbing his hand, Hermione rushed over to the secret entrance, pulled out the brick, and the boulder fell back. Then, making Draco crawl in first, making sure he was careful of his back, she pulled the brick back in, and heaved the boulder back to its lodged space. "Okay now, climb as fast as you can up the tunnel. It'll level out soon enough, and then we can run. I'm so sorry I hurt you! It's all my fault for my stupid broom flying wants and-"

"Sshh. It's alright, just...calm down and I'll be okay."

~~*~~

"Madame Pomfrey? Will Draco be okay?"

"Well, Ms. Granger, it's no fatal wound, it will heal in time. He's got quite a scrape on his back, but it's not too deep. However, he's feeling too ill to be visited, so I advise against going to see him. You really should get back to your common room. Dumbledore may want to talk to you. We teachers and nurses can't help wondering how and why you children run about in the middle of the night. Don't you ever get tired?"

"Thank you for helping him, Madame Pomfrey. If I have time, I'll visit him tomorrow afternoon, if that's alright."

"Fine, dearie. I'm sure he'll still be around here for long after."

Hermione nodded, and then making sure Madame Pomfrey was busy, she slid out the door, pretending to leave. But, halfway to the door out of the hospital wing, she glanced at the one curtained bed. How badly was Draco hurt? I have to say goodbye to him, no matter what Madame Pomfrey says.

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She pulled back the curtain, and, eyes widening, immediately covered her mouth in shock. Draco slowly looked up, grimacing, but then seeing her, whispered in a raspy voice, "Hermione! Go! You- You aren't supposed to see me like this! I never wanted you to have to see this, it--you don't how much pain it causes me that you're seeing me like this! How could you do this to me?" the last was a wailing moan, full of physical as well as emotional pain.

Hermione stared. Compassion welled up inside her, and tears rimmed in her eyes. Draco's back did not seem to suit the rest of his appearance. His otherwise always-pale skin was cracked and red on his back. And it wasn't the scrape, either. Sure, the scrape was slightly pink, and covered a large part of his back, but it didn't go deep, and was nothing compared to the harsh red cuts, spots, and bruises covering the Slytherin's back. Leaning in a bit closer, she whispered, voice quivering, "Does it hurt? How long have you had those cuts?" She did not voice her thoughts on it; didn't voice that she knew already that, although some cuts looked only a week or so recent, others were gouged in the skin permanently, wounds afflicted upon him years ago. And, to her horror, she had a niggling thought that the cuts were from a harsh torture spell, if not a whip.

She stood back up, retreating. What she had once thought could be interesting, exciting finds on the Malfoy family, based on what she'd found out so far, were now turning into a nightmare of pain. She felt as if, surely, poor Draco took the brunt of all horrors that his family had experienced and were. Now being so close, she was amongst the drops of pouring blood that spilled from the stain of the painful dark cloud that hovered over all Malfoy family members. And Draco was one of them; he was the heir to this pot of boiling disasters and horror!

Although leaving him so abruptly felt like she was killing a part of herself, almost dying, just as the broom accident had almost killed her, Hermione couldn't bear to stand there any longer. Tears now freely spilling, Hermione whispered, panicked, "Please, Draco, understand that it's not you, it's not your wounds, you've done nothing wrong but just please! I need to be alone for a few days, I need to think, please, I promise you, it has nothing to do with your injuries, you've done nothing wrong Draco, I'm sorry, please, forgive me, I'm so sorry to leave you, I'm sorry, goodbye!"

And regardless of the angry pained protests, regardless of how sad she felt upon leaving him, Hermione ran away, in a flurry of tears and sobbing. She left Draco Malfoy all alone, to handle his emotions and pain unaided.

But though she could run, she knew she could never truly hide. Regardless of how she was determined to try, deep down, she knew she now stood amongst the drops of pouring blood.