In the Eye of the Dragon

In the Eye of the Dragon
Chapter Four

A month later, Draco could hardly believe how much he had changed. Since starting his homework with Hermione, his grades had gone up, and he was happier than he had been since before his father had been taken to Azkaban. He even found himself routinely sitting beside Hermione in class, much to the disbelief of the rest of the students. If my father could see me now, Draco thought one night, during a break in Astronomy while a cloud passed over the cluster of stars he was examining. What was even worse, Draco realized while he laughed at McGonagalls hat, that Hermione had pointed out to him, which someone had bewitched to shoot faces at her, was that he actually having fun with her. More than once had they gotten into a spirited debate on Muggle law, medicine, or technology versus the Wizarding equivalents. While their opinions did clash quite frequently, they listened to each other and Draco found he actually respected Hermione.

Of course, nothing at Hogwarts is a secret, and rumors started like wildfire. Naturally, none of these rumors were remotely correct; the students preferred creating their own, more exciting versions of the story, to the point it was believed that Hermione was carrying Draco’s child. While none of these stories affected Draco in any way, it was clear they were starting to get to Hermione. When Draco met Hermione at their next study session, he found her eyes red and her books closed, staring blankly into the table.

“Hermione?” he asked, aware that they were still using last names. She looked up at him and he saw tears welling in her eyes. “What’s wrong? Please tell me,” he pleaded.

“It’s nothing,” she muttered, emotion laced throughout her voice. “It’s only those stupid stories. I know they don’t mean anything, and they’re stupid, I — I just can’t stop thinking about them.” She sniffed, and pressed a handkerchief to her eyes.

“Hermione, I know it’s more than just those rumors bothering you. Those sorts of things never bother you. What is it?” Draco had come around to her side of the table and was sitting beside her.

“But it does bother me! It all does. I pretend it doesn’t, but it does. Everything,” she burst out, crying now.

“But...” Draco was confused. “What? You can’t be pretending it doesn’t. All year, nothing anyone has said to you has bothered you this much. Even me, when I called you... well, you know, you just shot right back.”

“Yeah, and notice how you stopped insulting me after that. That doesn’t mean it didn’t get to me. Every single time. I can’t take it anymore.” She sounded dejected, and while her crying had stopped, her shoulders shook uncontrollably, and she buried her head in her hands. Before Draco could stop himself, he had put his arm around her, and was comforting her.

“Hermione, I’m so sorry for ever hurting you. I was an asshole because my father told me Muggles were unworthy. But even then, I never realized that even though you were Muggle-born, you were still better than me at everything. If there was some way to take back everything I’ve said the past five years, I would do it in a heartbeat. But I can’t, so I hope you accept my apology for it. You’re smart, nice, funny... I don’t understand how I could’ve been so blind to everything.” He was rambling now, trying to say anything to make her feel better because he hated seeing her like this. “You’re a strong girl. Don’t let what those idiots are saying bug you. You and I know perfectly well that you are not pregnant with my child. Don’t go to their level. Be the Hermione I’ve grown to respect and admire.” She stopped shaking and looked up at him, her eyes still bloodshot.

“You mean that?” she asked meekly.

“All of it.”

“You respect me?”

“More than you can imagine.”

“Thank you... Draco.” It was the first time he had ever heard her say his name. He felt a swell of happiness in his chest, and wrapped both arms around her, holding her close to him. She leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly some time later.

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault. You did nothing wrong.” She didn’t reply, and they stayed in the same position until Draco heard a wolf in the forest. He looked at his watch.

“Hermione... Hermione,” he whispered, shaking her awake gently.

“What? Did I fall asleep? What time is it? We should be getting to our homework.”

“Shh, no, Hermione, not tonight. It’s past midnight. Here, let’s get our stuff, and I’ll walk you to your common room.”

“Thanks, Draco.”

***

When they arrived in front of the large painting of the Fat Lady, who was asleep in her frame, Hermione turned to Draco.

“Thank you for listening to me. I was being stupid, letting the rumors get to me.”

“Don’t worry, we all have our moments.” Hermione smiled at him.

“Does this mean we’re on a first-name basis now?” Draco laughed.

“If you want.”

“Okay. Goodnight Draco.”

“G’night Hermione.” As he was leaving, Hermione called him. He saw her rush up to him and throw her arms around his neck. Stunned, he hugged her back, and it was a long time before either of them let go. Then with one last look, Hermione gathered her books and her bag, and climbed through the portrait hole, leaving Draco to watch the painting swing shut.

Draco didn’t remember how he got back to his dormitory, his feet seemed to have been doing the thinking for him. His head had been elsewhere: back in the library, seeing Hermione so vulnerable and weak; and back in front of the Fat Lady. Moments before he fell asleep, his feelings for Hermione became definite: he cared about her, and he cared for her, and he never wanted to see her sad again. He fell asleep with a smile on his face.