Saving Each Other - Dramione

Watching

Draco's POV

I hate seeing her like this.  Hermione. Seeing her breaking from the inside.  From outside her walls are standing strong but inside the castle is being slowly pulled apart.  She won't let me help, won't let anyone help because that would mean breaking down the wall to let someone in and that's the only part she managed to keep standing.

I have to watch her break apart slowly and then she's going to have to be put back together piece by piece.  Eventually, her walls will break and I will be able to help her but until then I can only shout encouragement from the outside and pick up the pieces that she leaves behind.

***

I don't talk to Hermione much during the day but when I see her in class she looks distracted and she doesn't pay attention despite actually getting a decent sleep last night.  I mean to ask her about it but I don't get a chance until we are both back in the common room after dinner.

When I walk through the door into our circular, fire-lit room I know something is wrong.  Hermione, who usually prides herself on her posture, is sitting slouched in one of the armchairs with her knees pulled up to her chest.

As I start to walk over to her she looks up at me and gives me a small smile.  She uncurls herself from her ball and tries to look like everything is okay but I've learnt now not to trust that act.

As I crouch down beside her chair I start to think about how I'm going to get her to open up to me, how I'm going to find out how I can help her but I don't have to say anything before she starts to talk.

'Ron asked me out this morning,' she says simply.

As soon as she's said that I feel my stomach drop at least a foot and wave of emotion that I can only describe as fear, anger, sadness and emptiness, all at the same time comes over me.  I could never be able to compete with Weasley, he and Hermione have been through so much together.  Wait, why would I be trying to compete with Weasley?  Hermione and I are just friends.

'I turned him down of course, but I feel really bad about it.'

Somewhere inside my chest, a bubble of hope rises but I tuck it away and ignore it. It doesn't mean anything.

'Why do you feel bad about it?' I ask her, a bit shocked.  'If you don't like him in that way it's your choice.  You're allowed to think about yourself.'

'But he just looked so upset and I don't know if our friendship is going to be able to survive this.  We haven't even spoken much recently cause we've just argued every time we've tried to have a conversation.'

I try to stop myself but I can't help it.  'Doesn't sound like the two of you would be good as a couple if you can't even talk to each other.'

'No, obviously not but he doesn't see that.'

I feel my stomach do some sort of backflip but I disregard it again.  I mean sure Hermione is really pretty (even though she doesn't see it), smart, funny and an amazing person but I don't think I could actually like her in that way.  Besides, her life is complicated enough as it is already.  She needs a friend right now, I can't let myself get distracted.

'But anyway,' she says as she reaches forward to grab her books off the table, 'enough about my messed up life.  I need to do all this homework.'  She sits back in her chair and opens one of her books.  It's kind of adorable how much she cares about homework.

'I'm going to go up to my room for a bit,' I tell her,  'but I'll come back down when it's time to do our rounds.'

'Mmkay'

I look back at her as I am about to climb the stairs to my room.  She has a roll of parchment in her hand and she is absentmindedly playing with her hair as she reads.

The heavy weight of exhaustion falls over me as I walk up the stairs.  I haven't been sleeping well and I have a lot of homework.

I sit down at my desk, I have always preferred to work at a desk, and I pull out a book and a piece of parchment to begin writing my essay for Transfiguration. As I reach out to open my inkpot the sleeve of my robs gets caught and I catch a glimpse of the ugly black skull that is permanently etched on my left arm. I quickly pull my robs back down to hide it. I do not want to be reminded of who I was, of what I believed. I know now that money and power aren't the only things in this world.

I dip my eagle feather quill into my inkpot but before I begin to write I hear a tap on the window behind me.

I get up from my chair, slightly annoyed that I was interrupted, but the feeling disappears when I see my owl sitting on the window sill.  I open the window and take the letter, immediately recognising my mother's hand.  I had not been expecting a letter from her so soon as she had only just written to me yesterday and I hadn't even had time to reply yet.  Anxiously I tear open the envelope to find a small note inside.

Dear Draco,

I am sorry to trouble you with another letter so soon after my last but I thought that you would like to be informed of the details that I myself have just become acquainted with. It has been decided that your father will stand trial on Sunday December 27. You know that I never supported his actions but I do love him so I will attend the trial. I know that you did not desire to see him again but I do beg of you to come if only for my comfort.

Love, Mother.

I do not want to go. I don't want to watch him receive his sentence. I do not even want to recognise that man as my father. But my mother needs me and she was always there for me.

I try to think of someone who would come with me. Someone who would make my situation better, remind me that I am not stuck in my family forever. That I can be different from them.

All my 'friends' deserted me after the war and most people haven't come near me. Hermione's face comes into my head but I couldn't ask her to do that. She would understand though, she would understand how I feel.

I still can't understand why Hermione has been so nice to me after everything I did but she does seem genuinely interested in talking to me. I have come to look forward to talking to her in the rare moments that I can. I make up my mind to at least tell her about the trial later and I will see how she reacts.

Sometimes I just like watching her sit and read because she just looks so peaceful when she is lost in some other world. But when she comes out of that world and goes back to being herself I see her as she really is, broken, and I am left to watch her try to fix herself. One day I hope she will let me help.

I subconsciously put my hand over my forearm. It is the mark that labels me as a bad person. I hate it. I want it gone. I don't want this mark, this scar. I look over at the silver knife that lies on my desk. I cannot become a new person with the mark still permanently etched on my skin. I cannot be around Hermione as the person I once was. I have to become someone different.

I walk over to my desk and pick up the small Malfoy heirloom. It is rarely used but the blade is always sharp.

I want it gone.