Abyss

Abyss

Hermione watched as Dumbledore ushered Harry out of sight, claiming that he had important matters to tell him. There was something bothering the Headmaster, and this she could tell just by looking at him. He seemed... older, somehow, his age becoming more apparent in the lines that marred his face. That was understandable, since she herself felt ages away from the girl who had nothing but grades and Head Girl duties to worry about. The attack on Hogwarts... it took a toll on all of them, managing to change all their lives in one brutal thrust. A sharp pain clawed at her, and for a few moments her eyes stung. Hermione blinked profusely, and averted her attention somewhere else, stubbornly refusing to cry. She needed a distraction, something to focus on and make her forget... she saw Malfoy turn his back on her and head towards his own corner again. "Malfoy..." she called, though she had absolutely not the faintest idea on what to say.

He stopped and turned. "What?"

She noticed that there were red patches of skin on the lower half of his face that told her he'd been rubbing at it for too long. Hermione realized that he was unsuccessful in trying to remove the remnants of the blood that still clung on his chin. "You...um..." She gestured at her own face.

Malfoy immediately rubbed his face with the sleeve of his robe. "Is it gone?"

The act only made the blotches more vivid and striking against his pale skin. "No. And stop rubbing," she admonished. "You're not doing it any good."

He swore and continued to rub. "I need a mirror. Where is a damned mirror--"

"You don't need one. I'll do it." Hermione took the ribbon off her dress, and then went to the kitchen. She placed the cloth underneath a faucet, and moistened it. She was about to return to where he was when she saw that he had followed her, and was now standing very close to her. "Um..." Hermione looked up at him, and hovered the ribbon over his chin. "May I?"

He shrugged. "Just get the damn stain off me."

Hermione concentrated on his chin, dabbing at it with the wet cloth. The blood had already crusted, so it took a few moments to remove. Aside from the difficulty of having to stand on her toes, she also felt uncomfortable that he was looking down on her the whole time she was doing it. "There," she said, as she stepped back. "All gone."

Malfoy felt his chin as though he could verify whether or not what she said was true just by touching it. "Are you sure?"

She rolled her eyes. "Of course I am." She gazed at him, critically scrutinizing his appearance. "Harry must have beaten you pretty badly, Malfoy," she said sympathetically. "Your nose is starting to look like Snape's already."

"What?" His own eyes widened in alarm, and he visibly paled as he immediately felt his not-so-misshapen nose. "That does it, Potter's going to die a very gruesome, very horrible--"

Hermione burst out laughing at his exaggerated reaction. "I'm kidding, you slow, gullible little thing," she quipped. "Your nose isn't swelling... that much, but just enough to let the whole world know that you lost to Potter. Harry. Whatever."

"You have a demented sense of humor, you know that?" he said, still consciously feeling his nose. "You very nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"And you... you're entertaining when you're angry," Hermione told him, giving him back the words he said to her when she was the one who was mad about something. She almost felt delirious when she saw him color.

"I am not angry," he denied. "You're just exceptionally annoying. Why are you even bothering me?"

"I'm bothering you because I'm bored."

"Will you quit reciting my lines? I realize that you're smart and all that because you managed to remember them, but really, Granger... this just proves how odd and twisted you are."

"What can I say? I've been hanging around you for too long."

"That's it," Malfoy said, as he stepped away from her. "I refuse to tolerate this absurdity any moment longer!" He marched out of the kitchen.

She clutched at her stomach as she watched him sulk away from her. Oh, that was priceless... priceless! The look on his face... the way he seemed to pale one minute and then redden the next... it was too much. Another round of laughter bubbled from her lips, and though he was already several meters away from her, he seemed to have heard it as he turned around again. "You... you... Mudblood!" he retaliated.

Hermione shook her head. She knew he was just trying to salvage his dignity, and of course she knew he knew the insult wasn't as offensive as it was before. But that didn't stop the other students from gasping at the mention of the foul word. "One of these days," she told him, as she folded her arms over her chest, "I'll think of a pet name for you, Malfoy. Something equally charming as Mudblood."

He smirked. "Then think long and hard, because I'll definitely be looking forward to that day." And with that, he disappeared around the corner.

Hermione chuckled as she recalled his expression. Her mood effectively lightened, she glanced at the ribbon she held at her hands. She thought of tying it around her waist again, but there was blood on the other end, and--

"Hermione."

She looked up, and saw Harry standing on the doorway, the expression on his face very far from pleased. "Hey," she said, wondering what could've gotten him into such a foul state. "How's your talk with Dumbledore?"

Harry gave the slightest shrug. "Fine," he said, the clipped tone of his voice saying that that topic was over. He looked at his side, and then at her. "Where's he going?"

"Upstairs, I guess." Hermione went to him, tying the ribbon around her waist as she did so. "You look pale, Harry. Are you sure you're all right? You took quite a beating."

"I'm fine," he answered. His eyes flashed underneath his glasses. "Why are you even asking? I thought you said we're on our own. Though, of course, you also said that to Malfoy but it looked like you were playing nurse to him just a few moments ago."

She blinked, startled at the anger that coated his words. "I wasn't playing nurse--"

"Don't even deny it, Hermione. I saw it. The whole house saw it. You... and Malfoy..." He wrinkled his brows in obvious disgust.

"I was just wiping his..." She trailed off, annoyed at the doubt that was still evident on his face. Of all the things she hated, it was when her friends thought of her as a liar that sets her off the most. "Oh, forget it. Why am I even explaining things to you? You'll just assume I'm taking his side, anyway." She planted her hands on her hips. "Look, Harry, if you want to treat Malfoy like dirt, then fine, be my guest. Treat him that way. But don't ever be angry with me if I decided to treat him like a person. If you recall--"

"I know, I know, he saved you, you owe him your life, blah, blah, blah." Harry raised his hands. "I understand that, alright? I get it. You don't have to rub it in."

"If you understand, then why are you so angry?"

"It's just that--" He closed his eyes, and then sighed. "Every time I see him... I remember Ron."

"We've already discussed this," Hermione stated firmly, and damn it, her eyes were stinging again. "Malfoy didn't kill Ron. And I'm not taking his side, all right? It's just that I believe it's not fair to accuse someone when he's innocent." She sighed, and placed her hands on her temples. "Why are we even fighting, Harry? We never saw each other for almost three weeks and we're fighting?"

Harry looked at her, his mouth set on a thin line. Then, "I'm sorry." At least he started to look like he was really sorry.

"It's... it's fine," Hermione told him, waving a hand dismissively in the air. "Let's just forget about all these and never mention it again, okay?"

He finally smiled. "Fair enough."

"Good. Now let me see those cuts and bruises of yours."

*

It took her a few minutes to clean Harry's wounds. Before she knew it, night had already befallen them, and the house had grown silent because most of the children were in bed.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," apologized Harry again, a sullen look on his face. He gestured at their surroundings. "I never expected anyone to just pop out of thin air. All the rooms in this house are already filled with students, and we don't have--"

"--extra bedrooms?" she guessed. She could see for herself that the house was very small, and its living room could've easily fitted inside Malfoy's bedroom.

He nodded.

She spotted the seemingly lumpy sofa on one corner. "Is this room taken?"

He shook his head.

"Then I'll take it."

"But Hermione..."

"It's okay, Harry, really." She proved her sincerity by smiling at him. "I guess I'll just... I'll just take the sofa." She shrugged. "It's not like I haven't slept in one before."

But he still looked very disturbed at her suggestion. "If you want," Harry said eagerly, "we could switch places. You could sleep in my room, it's on the second floor--"

"No, no. I'm fine here." Hermione patted his back. "Don't worry too much about me."

"If you're sure--"

"I am." She noticed that he still looked disapproving of her temporary sleeping quarters.

"Well..." Harry glanced at the sofa, and then looked straight at her, his eyes strangely unblinking. "It looks... really comfortable."

She shook her head, and then chuckled. "You were never a good liar, Harry. What made you think I'll fall for that?"

Harry scratched his head, a sheepish smile on his face. "I guess I'll just have to look for extra pillows and blankets, then."

"You do that," she said, then watched her friend as he left. Hermione went towards the sofa. "Looks like I'm back to being a guest," she muttered. She sank on the furniture. Admittedly, it was not and never would be as comfortable as Malfoy's bed, or his couch even, but it would have to do. And speaking of that prat... where was he, anyway? It seemed as though it had been hours since she last saw him. She rested her head on the back, still thinking about Malfoy... a minute later, and she was fast asleep.

*

Draco shoved his hands in his pockets as he walked back to the living room. He couldn't find for himself a single, empty room in the entire damned place. He couldn't demand that a dozen or so boys leave the room he wanted to have, so where in hell was he supposed to sleep now? "I hate this," he told himself. Whose bright idea was it that they'd be transported to Harry Potter's cave, anyway? That git's probably sharpening his knives; preparing to strike when Draco's at his most vulnerable. He was about to kick a bottle lying on the floor when he heard a familiar sound.

A few moments later, and he saw that the source of that deep, rhythmic breathing was none other than Granger herself. She was sprawled on the sofa, her body occupying half its length. Her head was uncomfortably angled to one side, and a small frown was on her face as she shifted continuously and restlessly. Draco frowned. Was she having a nightmare?

He looked around him. As it was past midnight already, and most of the people were asleep, he supposed that there'd be no one to see. Draco shrugged his robes off, then quietly sat beside her. She was still moving a bit, as if trying to look for a more comfortable position. Finally, her head found the curve of his shoulder, and stayed there. She sighed, and stopped shifting.

Draco stared at her head, her bushy hair blocking his view of her face. The weight on his shoulder wasn't too much a bother on him anyway, so he allowed it to stay there. He carefully spread his robe over them both, so that one end covered her body and the other warmed his. Draco rested his head on the back of the sofa, still thinking about their current situation... a minute later, and he was fast asleep.

*

Harry clutched the blanket to his chest as he moved stealthily from the top floor to the bottom. A student named Marvin Marcial talked to him while he was on his way to get Hermione blankets, and that as the reason why he was delayed. He just wished that she were really okay with sleeping in the living room. Of course he was willing to let her take his room, but she'd have to deal with the ten Hufflepuff boys occupying the same space, and she was probably safer in the living room, anyway...

At last, after what seemed like an endless flight of stairs he reached the living room. He was slightly out of breath, the effect of his having to run all the way. "I'm really sorry, but there was a student--"

Harry stopped short, the rest of his explanation dying on his tongue.

There, for the entire world to see were Malfoy and Hermione sleeping side by side. Her whole body sagged against his, with her head on his shoulder. Malfoy's robe served as the blanket for them both.

Harry gritted his teeth, resisting the urge to pull the other boy off the sofa. He strode over to Hermione, and took the robe off her, tossing it carelessly over Malfoy as if it was a dirty, contaminated thing. Again, he resisted the very tempting urge to smother him as he slept, and instead focused on Hermione. She made a tiny sound, but remained asleep. He placed the blanket over her, making sure that every inch of her body was covered.

Then as quietly as he came, Harry left the room.

*

Hermione opened her eyes, still weary despite the little amount of sleep she just had. She straightened, moved her head from side to side, and then yawned widely, patting her open mouth several times.

"Well, it's about time you awoke."

Her hand froze, centimeters away from her mouth. She looked at her side, and saw that Malfoy was moving his shoulder as if exercising it. "What are you doing here?" she demanded.

He bristled at her callous tone. "I know that you're not a morning person and all that, but I would really like it if you'd show some appreciation for my being your pillow the whole night." He placed a hand on his shoulder and massaged it. "You've got a really big head, Granger. Perhaps half your weight is in there."

"Wait." What was he saying? Hermione looked at his face, then his shoulder, and back again. "Do you mean to tell me that you were... I was... we slept together?"

"Now who's got the dirty mind?" he asked innocently.

Hermione glared at him. She smacked him quite soundly in the arm. "What I meant to say was--"

"--did you sleep on my shoulder? Pretty much." Malfoy grinned at her. "And you seemed like you enjoyed it, too."

"I can assure you that I didn't enjoy it," she told him evenly. "But thank you."

"You're welcome." He inspected his clothes. "Let's just hope you didn't drool on me--" She hit him again. "Ow!"

She removed the blanket from her, and then stood up. Hermione folded the blanket carefully, frowning as she tried to recall where it came from... a moment later, she remembered. "Harry!"

Malfoy looked insulted. "That's not my name!"

She rolled her eyes. "Quit it, Malfoy. You said so yourself I'm not a morning person, so shut it." She became agitated. "When did you... you know... sit there?"

"Past midnight."

"Past midnight. Past midnight..." Her mind raced. What was the time when she and Harry spoke? She couldn't remember, but--

"I guess you're wondering if Potter saw us sleeping together?" Malfoy placed a hand on his chin, as if deep in thought. "Let's see. When you slept on me, I used my robe as our blanket. When I woke up, my robe was smothering me, and you were wearing a different blanket. So... yes. He did see us."

"Or somebody else did," she added in a hopeful voice. But his explanation had a believable side to it...

Malfoy shrugged. "Possibly." He looked at her. "Why are you so worried? You think he'd think you're fraternizing with the enemy and all that nonsense?"

"Of course not, because I'm not fraternizing with anyone," Hermione stated.

"Then you've got nothing to worry about."

"Perhaps." She placed the folded blanket on her seat, and noticed for the first time the current situation of their surroundings. "Why is the house so quiet? Are they all still asleep?"

He placed his robes on. "What did you expect? It's only about five in the morning. What type of ungodly creatures would be awake at this time?"

"Well," she said, as she placed her hands on her hips, "I guess this is good. Can I borrow your wand?"

He complied, which came as a surprise. "What for?"

"I'll just tidy this place up a bit." Hermione flicked the wand, recited a few cleaning spells, and the house was in order in no time. "That's loads better. It's amazing what a houseful of boys can do to the... well, the house."

"I don't suppose you can conjure up food like Dumbledore could, can you?"

She looked at him. "Why? Are you hungry?"

Malfoy stood up as well. "The last time I ate was noon yesterday, so naturally, I'm hungry. Aren't you?"

To be perfectly honest, she'd been hungry the whole night, but somehow she never paid too much attention to her stomach. But now that he mentioned it... "Maybe--" Hermione walked towards the cupboards in the kitchen. She opened them, but found them to be bare.

"There's no food," she said dejectedly.

"Pathetic!" exclaimed Malfoy. He went to her and inspected the cabinets himself. "Well, this is perfect. First, no room to sleep in, and now there's no food to eat? What's next, Mrs. Parkinson apparating here to kill us?"

"Bite your tongue!" Hermione said sternly. "As much as luck is concerned, we have none. Don't tempt fate, Malfoy!"

"But we don't have any food!" he whined. "If you must know, I haven't gone this long without eating anything. If this would go on, I might have to resort to cannibalism..."

"Let's not be melodramatic," she said dryly. Hermione thought for a while, and then... "Dumbledore. He's here! Let's ask him--"

"He's gone."

Hermione looked at the door and saw Harry standing there, looking like he'd been awake all night. There were dark circles underneath his eyes that his glasses hadn't quite covered. "Good morning, Harry."

"Good morning? What's so good about this morning?" Malfoy turned to Harry. "Pathetic morning to you, Potter. And by the way, what do you mean Dumbledore's gone?"

Harry ignored him completely, and instead focused intently on her.

"We don't have food, Harry," Hermione told him. "The cabinets are all empty."

"They're gathering dust, which, as you should know, isn't edible."

"I know." Harry placed a cape around him, and then pulled the hood over his head. "That's why I'm going out. I'm going to buy us some food."

"Nice costume you've got there," drawled Malfoy.

"Isn't it dangerous for you to walk around?" Hermione asked, as she and Harry ignored Malfoy's jibe. "What if someone--"

"I've done it before. I can do it again."

"Then I'm going with you." Hermione started to walk towards him. "Just let me get my--"

"No." Harry's voice was firm, uncontestable, the look on his face grim, severe. "You stay here... with him."

"But you might need help!" she said. "How can you manage--"

"I'll manage," he stated. "I'll ask for help when I need it, but as of now, Granger... I don't need your help."

And the next thing she knew, he was gone.

Hermione closed her eyes. Harry seemed so cold, so... bitter, and there was no denying the reason why he was. She looked at Malfoy, and he seemed to have read her expression.

He placed a hand on her shoulder sympathetically. "I told you he saw us," he said quite simply.