Saving Each Other - Dramione

Almost Normal

Life is almost normal. Almost as it was before. I go to class, do my homework, study, read in the library. I hang out with my friends and organise prefect meetings.

I spend a lot of time with Malfoy when we do our rounds each night and in arithmancy but to be honest I don't mind his company that much anymore. I wouldn't say that we've become friends because our conversations are too polite and we still refer to each other by our last names.

I don't spend more time with him than I have to but every time we talk always makes me feel so happy and sometimes I have to stop myself from smiling like an idiot and even though I might not call him my friend I do trust him a lot more.

I still have nightmares. Each morning I wake up early with tears falling down my face and sweat covering my body.

In the dreams,  there is usually fire. Sometimes I watch from a distance as Hogwarts burns and crumbles to the ground. Other times, one of my friends comes running from the castle to save me but they are swallowed by the flames. One morning, after watching Harry burn to death, I ran all the way to Gryffindor tower at four in the morning to make sure he was alive.

But each morning I take a long shower and wash everything away. Everything is almost normal.

***

It's the end of the second week back at school and I am climbing the steps to the common room. I am tired from a long homework session in the library but I still have to find Malfoy so that we can do our rounds.

I open the door and start to walk towards the staircase that leads up to my room before I hear Malfoy's voice from behind me.

'Oh hey Granger,' he says, his voice breaking slightly.

I hadn't noticed him sitting there when I walked in but now I turn around and look at him, 'Hey Malfoy.'

He is sitting low in one of the armchairs in front of the fire and he has a piece of parchment that looks like a letter clutched in his hand. His face is contorted like he's in pain. He looks like he's trying not to cry.

I drop my bag to the floor and quickly walk over to him. I sit down on the sofa and look at him for a few moments. When doesn't say anything I try to get him to talk.

'Are you ok?' I ask him. Once I've said it I realise that it was a stupid thing to say. I already know the answer from his body language and it's a question that too often receives a lie in return.

'Yeah, I'm fine.'

But he turns away from me and even as he says it his voice cracks.

I knew he'd say that. Everyone says that.

'Malfoy I can quite clearly see that not ok. You may not want to talk to me about it, and you might not even understand yourself the reason you feel like this, but the least you can do is be honest. So I'm going to ask you again. Are you ok?'

'Argh! No, I'm not ok! Happy?'

His fist is crumpling the piece of parchment into a tight ball but he doesn't seem to realise.

'Do you feel like talking to me about it?'

He is silent for a while before finally opens his mouth again. 'Well, I don't really have anyone else to talk to so... just promise you won't tell anyone about it. Especially about me being like this.'

'No, of course, I won't tell anyone,' I assure him. Now slightly curious about what has made Malfoy so upset. He looks so weak. So vulnerable and that's something I never imagined Malfoy could be.

'It's just my stupid messed up family. I just don't know what to feel about my parents anymore. My... my father's in Azkaban, for what he did during the war, and my mother won't leave the house.'

He starts off speaking slowly and disjointedly, like he doesn't really know what to say, but soon his voice quickens and all the thoughts and emotions that he's stored inside himself come flooding out.

'I hate my father for putting me through this, for giving me no choice. It was him that taught me that because I had not a trace of non-magical blood in me, I was better than everyone else. It was my father brought me up to believe that because I was a Malfoy, I had the right to push everyone else below me. And I believed him. I believed that the way to make myself happy was to be more important than everyone else. To have everyone either fear my or worship the ground I walked on.

'It took me almost eighteen years to realise that no one actually cared about me. That I had no real friends. That I was living in a system of every man for himself where no one helped anyone unless they were going to get something out of it. I had no idea that things could be different until a few months ago.

'It was in the room of requirement when you, Potter and Weasley came back to save us. You didn't have to do that, you weren't getting anything out of it, in fact, you had every reason to just want us to die but you saved us. And that was when I began to think that it would be a lot nicer to live like that, to help other people and also know that you could rely on them if you needed it. 

'I don't know how I feel about my mother. On one hand, she never wanted to become a death eater. Yes she supported him, but she didn't actually want to be involved. She would always come to comfort me after father had yelled at me and she was always the one who was there for me. But she could never stand up to father. She was scared of him. She loved him too, but she was scared of him. I've always thought that if only she'd been braver, I wouldn't have had to grow up the way I have.'

He is crying now, tears carving trails down his cheeks. I get up from my spot on the sofa and crouch next to his chair. Gently, I put my arm around his shoulders and try to comfort him.

'But that can change now,' I tell him. 'You don't have to live like that anymore. Try not to think about what might have been. Think about what has happened and how you can change things for the future. '

He stays like that for a long time, sobbing but after a while he takes a deep breath in and holds it, trying to pull himself together. When he doesn't break down again he slowly lets the air escape from his lungs and he stands up.

'We still need to do our rounds,' he says in a slightly wobbly voice.

'Yeah. I'm just going to put my stuff up in my room,' I say gesturing to my things that are still lying on the floor. I want to give him a few minutes to himself. So he can let the emotions flow through him without someone watching him as his face contorts and changes.

I climb the stairs up to my room just like every other night. Everything is almost normal.