Whispered Plea

Chapter Four

Hey guys, College Applications fucking suck, just so you know. Also, although there shouldn't be an excuse for updated so late, I feel as though I owe it to you guys as a writer does to her readers when she does not fulfill expectations. My mum was diagnosed with cancer, and has been through the very long process of an extensive surgery, and now chemo. It has been a very stressful time in my life, college apps not helping with things. Thanks for putting up with me, and I hope that you enjoy this chapter. 

Draco Malfoy sat on the couch staring at the red door that had just been violently slammed shut. A quiet morning in the common room in an attempt to avoid Pansy and Blaise had been working quite well, and he had been thoroughly immersed in his Astrology textbook when the bushy haired girl had flown by him running faster than he had ever seen her move before. Draco had barely looked up in time to really see her, and was shocked to see her once again crying. 

In their entire school career, the young Malfoy could not remember an instance where he had seen the feisty witch cry, and within the past two days, he had seen her cry twice. Something was going on with her, something had happened Draco decided, not that he was particularly interesting he told himself. No, he didn't care. Not in the slightest.

Looking back at his Astrology textbook, he tried to concentrate on the text before him, but the harder he looked, the more the words in front of him seemed to blur. Fisting his hands into the couch, he squeezed his eyes shut trying to shut out his intrusive thoughts. Draco Malfoy was not inclined to try and help people, it wasn't in his nature, never had been. But the sound of the shuffling from behind the red door, and the occasional sniffles was started to get to him. Maybe it was just irritation towards the weak girl that was giving him the funny feeling in his chest he told himself. Slamming his textbook closed, he leaned farther back into the flush furniture. 

He needed to avoid the girl, and it was becoming increasingly apparent that that was going to be a difficult task. Once again, against his will, Draco's eyes strayed towards the red door, and latched onto the knob. All he had to do was twist that knob, and open that door, and he would know what was wrong. It was probably something stupid though. Some boy troubles. 

Probably Weasley. His grey eyes narrowed and his upper lip twitched. Weasley had caused nothing but problems since he had met him, and since he spoke at his father's hearing that had earned him a life sentence in Askaban, Draco's hatred of him had only grown. Draco remembered that day. The ministry had held the trial in the room with dementors floating above them all. It had been cold, dark, and damp. Fudge was convinced that this was enough to evade Voldemort and keep him away from some of his favorite followers being held on trial. Draco knew that everyone who had attended, even the foolish minister of magic, knew better than that. Voldemort did not come to save his followers for one simple reason. He did not care. His mission could be completed without a few extra wands, so why waste the time. Everyone knew, and those who did not, were deemed foolish, boxed into the same category as the infamous Minister of Magic. Still. Draco had experienced a foolish moment of hope, right before the sentence was read. Maybe the Dark Lord would come swooping in, taking Lucious Malfoy, and the others away, keeping them from the dementors. But it was what it was. Foolish, and Draco Malfoy had cursed himself over and over again for even believing in such fictional dreams. Now his anger was directed towards the youngest Weasley boy and the Golden Trio. 

Draco was so spaced out that he jumped when the red door across the room creaked open. He stared as the Gryffindor slid out, head down. She had changed, now in a light blue long sleeve, and jeans, her wild hair was down around her face, hiding it from the blond on the couch. She slowly lowered herself into the chair across from his, feeling his eyes burning into her. After settling into the armchair, Hermione finally looked up. Draco started as he saw her eyes. The red rims, and telltale glassy look of crying make it seem as though her hazel eyes were burning right back at him. There was a look in her eyes that Draco could not quite pinpoint although he knew that he had seen it before. He opened his mouth to say something but stopped himself realizing that he had no idea what in the world he could say.