wrong ||| dramione

Year Two || The Attack

When they told him Hermione was petrified, he was silent for a couple of seconds, then he said one word:

- Good.

No one asked him why he didn't seem too triumphant over what happened. They were too scared of him for that. Yet some, like Pansy Parkinson, asked themselves why he had reacted this way.

The truth was that Draco didn't really know himself how he felt about this piece of news. On the one hand, he felt victorious as if it was he who had made Hermione drop dead as a stone. He was Draco, and he felt maliciously happy.

Yet at the same time he was annoyed and sad and he didn't know why.

Three days passed. Hermione did not appear in any of their mixed classes. It seemed odd to Draco - for she never missed a class. Even sick and coughing, with red eyes and a runny nose, she would be there, her eyes aflame and her face alert, her shrill voice delivering the answers - always the right answers.

But now she wasn't.

Harry and Ron looked lost and lonely without her - and with a disgusting, sinking feeling in the bottom of his stomach, Draco knew the trio had lost a vital member. That day, to make up for this strange feeling of annoyance and to fill the void inside him, he pushed Harry as he passed him by. 

That same night, Draco was caught by Snape and sent off to bed with 30 points off Slytherin for walking about the castle after sleeping hours. The twelve-year-old boy was scared and miserable as the thin long dark man led him silently back to the dormitory, but relieved that he'd been caught after he'd visited the hospital wing and not before it.

About an hour earlier, he had opened the heavy metal doors of the hospital with his hands, which seemed small against the darkness of the door. He cursed under his breath, wishing he had more strength in him. 

Then he walked into the moonlit darkness of the hospital wing, passing by the beds and shivering as if he were in a morgue. That is, until he saw Hermione. 

She was lying completely motionless on one of the beds, her brown hair glistening in the moonlight.

Draco's instinctive reaction was to sneer - but as he saw her pale face and dead eyes, the smile faded from his lips.

He walked over to her, not entirely sure of why he had come or what he wanted - he had succeeded in convincing himself it was merely to gloat over her. He had thought he would be able to do something nasty to her while she was in this state - glue her hair to her pillow or draw something on her face. But now as he looked at her, he suddenly realised he was paralysed and couldn't even come closer, let alone touch her.

How long he stood there, he didn't know. And in the same strange state of spirit he walked down the deserted Hogwarts corridors until Snape found him, silent and somehow smaller than usual and almost surprised at the sound of his own name.

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