Breath Mints / Battle Scars

Chapter 35: XXXV

February 1st, 1999

backpedal
back-ped-al
verb

to renege on, back down on, fail to honor, shift one's ground, take back, reconsider, withdraw, abandon

It's the definition she sees in his eyes the moment she turns around.

A blind panic. A bottomless vulnerability.

She only catches a glimpse of it, because now he won't look at her. Can't, it seems. He zips his trousers and tucks in his shirt with trembling fingers, gaze fixed firmly on the flagstone between her feet.

"You should go to dinner," he says in a flat voice. "They'll come looking for you."

It's only when she tastes blood that she realizes she's been biting down on her tongue. Her pulse is staggering its way back to normal and the flush in her cheeks and down her neck is hot - sweltering.

More than anything, she wants to open her mouth and dare him to say it again. Dare him to own up to it. Deal with the consequences of it. Accept it.

But not since Second Year - not since he crashed his broom chasing after Harry and the Snitch, not since he looked up, bruised and battered, at his father in the stands - has she seen him look so vulnerable.

So like a child.

And it makes her bite down harder.

Just this once, Malfoy, she thinks as he smooths his tousled hair and paces awkward lines, no doubt bracing for her reaction.

For a fight.

Just this one last favor. This once.

She clears her throat. Sees him tense at the sound of it. But she just straightens her skirt and goes to find her discarded wand.

He glances up at last as she heaves her bag onto her shoulder.

And all she can manage to say is, "Right, then," almost inaudibly.

He blinks.

She leaves.

For the entirety of that evening, Hermione feels as though she's been dropped ten meters onto her head.

She can't form coherent thoughts. Doesn't really want to, to be honest. It seems as though it would be physically painful to try.

She just keeps hearing his voice. That low, familiar, breathless husk.

Saying words she doesn't understand.

Saying words that shouldn't be said.

How dare he? How dare he let such careless, violent words come out of his mouth? Words with such dire consequences.

Then again, Malfoy's never been good with consequences.

She can't even allow herself to hear the words in her head. Truly, she almost believes if she manages not to think about it, it'll be like it never happened. Like he never said it.

She's practically a ghost at dinner. Doesn't eat. Doesn't speak. Ginny can obviously tell something is amiss, but she's both smart and kind enough not to draw any more attention to it.

That isn't to say no one else notices. Both Harry and Ron raise wary eyebrows at her on separate occasions, but she manages to pass it off as embarrassment. Humiliation at her dismissal from class this morning.

She wonders if she'll ever get to stop lying to them.

The logical part of her brain warns her not to pretend she has no choice.