wrong ||| dramione

Year Four || Death

For Draco, life was just a series of memories, connected to different people and different, often conflicting feelings.

When Draco thought of Hermione, he felt so many things he was confused - there was a kind of glow, a kind of tenderness - but also a very serious kind of fear, not just of his father, but of rejection.

Yet even that was not all - Draco sometimes felt rage at Hermione and rage at himself for liking her. He still hated Harry and Ron, and now he knew why - because he was scared Hermione would inevitably end their short-lived relationship and return to them. If it was possible, he hated them all the more now for it.

But Hermione had no thoughts of dumping Draco. Sure, he could be difficult - sure, he wasn't handsome when he was in a fit of jealous rage, which he so often was - but then she knew relationships were hard work. So patiently and calmly she responded to Draco's insinuations that he soon was completely out of breath - and asked her to forgive him, sometimes so passionately she felt like the luckiest girl in the world.

Besides, his jealous fits were attractive to her - she had never seen anyone care so much as to whom she had looked at and to be honest - who was there to look at, if not Draco?

***

With the third task approaching, Hermione grew restless. But Draco was much more scared of the year ending than of anyone dying at the tournament - in fact, he would have wished Harry dead had he not known Hermione would then be inconsolable. 

The day of the tournament was cloudy - but with magic, the clouds were dispersed. And as Draco stepped on to the green ground, he thought that he was glad the tournament would soon be over.

The strain of a secret relationship was beginning to show on him - he was on edge all the time and wanted to see Hermione more but it was absolutely impossible. If they had been brave enough to go to the Hog's Head in winter where no one could see them, now it was the most popular place of all. Especially for lovebirds.

Draco, oddly enough, was disgusted with all other people in relationships. He and Hermione seemed to be quieter and less giggly than all the people he knew - and whether it was him or Hermione, he didn't know, but they didn't even kiss that much, only on special occasions. To him, it was partly because of how shy he was - and to Hermione it seemed odd, but she forgave him for it, hoping that in time he wouldn't have to pretend to sneeze to get out of some of her kisses or cuddles.

But not now - now Draco wanted to see Hermione more than ever, to just put his arms around her and sit there together and to pretend nothing else existed.

He sat down heavily on the bench and cupped his pale face in his hands. There were so many people come to see the last task - and he could already see Dumbledore and the champions somewhere in front, lost behind the numerous standing people who were applauding loudly.

Suddenly, as if a glimmer of light illuminated the world around him, he saw her - glancing coyly at him - and he smiled, forgetting all caution -but just for a moment before she turned away again and yelled "GO HARRY" and even the fact that she was standing next to Weasley couldn't dampen Draco's mood.

And nothing did - that is, until the champions disappeared and the hours grew long. People were coming and going, unable to look at the empty stage without a sense of frustration.

Draco was drawing on the floor with a twig and feeling increasingly unhappy. Hermione had not looked at him again, and he almost felt like leaving, if only the realisation that he felt better being in the same space as she was wasn't some comfort.

He thought it would be just another boring sad evening. 

But it turned out to be much worse.

First, Fleur was brought out - unconscious and apparently under some deep kind of spell. Draco never cared much for Fleur, but as he saw Hermione gasp, he too, felt worried something might have gone wrong for Potter as well. Yet time still went by... and nothing happened.