Heartbeat

Chapter 8- I'm Not a Coward

Hermione

"Try and find the diadem!" Harry instructs, his forehead layered with sweat.

Ron and I nod, and take each other's hands. I scour the piles of junk in the room hopelessly, looking for the tiny crown. 

"Maybe we should split up," I suggest, stretching up on my tip-toes to see if I can spot it. 

Ron nods, and reluctantly lets go of my hand. 

"I'll go left, you go right."

"Hurry up!" Harry's voice echoes through the room. 

I tread deeper into the room, my eyes flying in every direction. Piles of rubbish coat the room, shards of glass cracking under my feet as I look for a sign of something sparkly. 

"Granger," a voice whispers. 

I jump, and whip my wand out immediately, trying to find out who said my name.  

"It's me," the voice says, and to my shock, Draco Malfoy steps out of a shadowy corner. 

"Don't come near me!" I tell him, pointing my wand out. 

As I take a closer glance, I see that his face has a grayish tinge, and his eyes carry a tired, defeated look. He's pushed the sleeves of his robes up, and his forearms bear angry, red marks. Then, I tense when I see that he's clutching a wand. 

I take a deep breath, ready to shout for Ron and Harry, but then-

"Are you okay?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper, perhaps in the worry that Ron or Harry might hear him. 

"What?" I ask, tightening my grip on my wand, and warily keeping an eye on his. 

"Are you alright? After the- after what happened at my house?" he asks, bringing his wand hand up. 

I strain, thinking that he's pointing his wand at me, but he just stows his wand in his robes and runs a hand through his hair. My hand, however, doesn't move. I know better than to not point my wand at him. 

"What do you care, Malfoy?" I ask, trying to ignore the dread that crashes through as I remember Bellatrix Lestrange's cruel screeches. "You're a Death Eater. I shouldn't even be talking to you."

He flinches, but says nothing, his gaze traveling slowly around the room until locking with my own eyes. 

"I remember now; it's you!" I say suddenly. 

Despite the situation, a ghost of a grin flits across his face. "I should hope you know it's me. We've known each other for about seven years now."

"We don't know each other," I say immediately. "Not really."

He cocks an eyebrow, acting as though we have all the time in the world. I step closer to him, so that the tip of my wand touches his throat. 

"What do you remember?" he whispers, his eyes laced with a painful hope.

A swirl of memories rushes past me, and as quickly as they arrived, they're gone.  

"I remember .  . ."

Confused, I trail off. It had seemed like two puzzle pieces magically fit together a moment ago, but now I can't remember what I was about to say. 

"I don't remember what I just remembered," I say quietly, surprised at the tiny flinch he gives. "But I remember that you're not to be trusted. I don't know you."

"You know me Granger," he says. "Better than anyone ever has."

"All I know about you is that you're a bully, and you're selfish, and you're a Death Eater. And I know that you're not a killer, but you're a coward, which is almost as bad," I say in one breath, looking for the diadem as I do so.