Regret, Remorse, Hold On || Drarry

SIX

Harry should have known better than to think Hermione Granger would let something go. She'd relented for all of five minutes while he gathered his thoughts and explained what was going on with his magic, such as the alarming incident in Charms as well as his sudden prowess in non-verbal and wandless magic, before she'd launched straight back in about Draco.

She'd been unable to get him to say anything more about what had happened, partly because he himself had no recollection of the event and partly because he didn't want to tell Hermione about the state he'd found Draco in. She'd asked him what Draco thought of the sudden volatility of his magic, and, of course, he'd been unable to answer.

"He doesn't know?" She'd asked him incredulously, eyebrows raised and her mouth open.

He had fallen silent. His mind desperately tried to conjure a perfectly valid explanation, but instead, he came up blank. How could he explain that he and Draco shared a collective memory loss?

Which led to now.

He could feel Hermione watching him from across the table. It was scalding, humiliating – and he wished she would just stop. Harry knew that Ron has noticed something amiss between them, which was really a testament to how obvious she was being, if even Ron had noticed. She was sitting across them, and Harry wished he could just turn her around to avoid her gaze. Her words echoed in his mind, and every second that Draco was away felt like torture.

He knew that Hermione was mostly frustrated that he wouldn't tell her something, because Hermione Granger hated not knowing, and he knew that she knew that Draco was somehow involved.

"Where's Malfoy?" Ron asked from beside Harry, steadfastly making his way through a teeming pile of food. "He's usually here by now, isn't he?"

Harry was aware that what Ron was really asking for was for someone to go find Draco, because he couldn't be bothered to do so himself. Harry was also aware that this meant that Ron had an important Quidditch story to tell Draco, as those two could talk about Quidditch for hours. It was the staple of their interactions, really, and Harry welcomed it.

"Yes, where is Draco, Harry?" Hermione coughed, looking pointedly at him. He glared, panic washing over him. She wouldn't say anything, would she? Not here, not now.

"I don't know." He replied, voice slightly hoarse. "Nott's looking for him, I think."

Ron frowned. "Don't you know where your own boyfriend is?" He laughed slightly.

Harry swallowed hard and forced out a laugh. "He's like a cat, you know. Goes where he wants to go, whether he's supposed to or not." Ron's laugh did not cheer him up.

"You know, I really think he should be here." Hermione said. Her eyebrow was raised, and her face was angry. "What if he's lost? It wouldn't be fair to leave him in the dark, would it? To not tell him something?" She realised Ron was staring at her, and that her 'subtle' reprimand for Harry was only making her look mad. She rushed to cover her tracks, with about as much skill as Harry dancing. "Like... where the Great Hall is?"

Ron just blinked at her. "'Mione, you know I love you, but what are you on about? I'm pretty sure Malfoy knows where the Hall is by now."

She flushed a deep crimson. "I just meant... Harry knows what I meant."

He did.

"What aren't you telling me, Harry? Or, more importantly, Draco?"

She'd tried to understand, he knew she had. It wasn't so much the anger, as that was something she could empathise with. It was the fact he had lied, and was still lying, and that it was hurting Draco. She couldn't back that, and he hadn't expected her too.