Bad Blood: A Dramione Fanfiction

Chapter Five

Hermione

"He's looking at you again, Hermione." Ambrosia, who's sitting beside me at the Gryffindor breakfast table, says. I look over at Draco and, sure enough, he is looking at me with the ghost of a sneer on his face.

I haven't talked to either Ron or Draco since our first day back, which was two days ago. Ron and I are still upset with each other, to the point where he doesn't sit with Harry and me anymore. But Draco is a different story.

Honestly, he didn't do anything to make me avoid him, unless you count previous offenses. I'm avoiding him of my own accord, despite the fact that the only reason Ron and I are cross is because I was defending Draco. But that's just it: I've spent years hating him for everything he's done to me. Somehow, all of that was just erased from my mind in one day. How am I to know that he couldn't just snap into his old self again? I'm protecting myself by putting this distance between us.

"I know. There's nothing we can do about it." I reply, shrugging. Draco notices that we're looking and moves his gaze elsewhere.

"Sure there is," Ambrosia smirks, "We could always-"

"Nothing violent." I add, and we laugh. Ambrosia despises Draco; or, as she puts it, has "an all-consuming hatred that outshines the stars."

But, no matter how hard I try, I can't shake off a guilty feeling. Just because I'm hanging around Ambrosia doesn't mean I hate Draco. I don't. Not anymore. However, I think that's how he takes it.

McGonagall instructs us to go to class and everyone rises from their seats. My eyes drift to Draco, who was sitting alone at the end of the table, as he stands up. A sheer look of pain crosses his face, and he grips his arm. I feel a pang in my chest.

Is he alright? I have to fight the urge to ask him, to say anything to him, as I pass him through the crowd.

Unexpectedly, someone grasps my arm. I gasp and look to see who it is: McGonagall. She leads me with her, and I haven't the slightest idea of where we're going until we reach a giant griffin statue. She mutters something, and it reveals a giant spiral staircase.

"Professor, if I may ask, what is this about?" I've barely been in trouble before, and I didn't do anything to deserve it this time.

"Miss Granger, you're not in trouble," She assures me, as if reading my mind, "I only wish to discuss something with you. Have a seat." I sit in the chair in front of her desk as she sits in the opposite one. Before she says anything, she looks me over.

"What happened?" She asks.

"Pardon?" I don't know what she's talking about. Nothing has happened recently that would involve her interference.

"With Mr. Malfoy," She adds, clarifying the situation. I don't answer her, and I purse my lips, looking down at my knees. "I talked to him yesterday, and he said you were avoiding him, like- ah, what was it?- a fungus."

I'm taken aback, and I say, "It's just... I... I don't know if it's possible to forgive him so quickly. I'm just trying to keep myself from getting hurt." My eyes refuse to meet hers.

"I fully understand what you mean, but this is not the same boy you've known all of these years. He's a new person."

"Well, he still hasn't informed me of his 'situation,'" I reply, "and perhaps, if he did, I could believe that."

"Is what you've experienced not proof enough?" Once again, I don't answer her question. "I suppose I'm just saying that Mr. Malfoy is in dire need of a friend, and you could be just that."