Bloodlust

Chapter XXVI

"This is new," Malfoy started and uncrossed his legs. He clasped his palms together as he leaned back on his chair. His remark earned him a sharp glare from Hermione.

She looked at him, realizing how much time passed by while she was devoured by a memory.

"It's quite new. That you're out of words," said Malfoy.

He wasn't wrong. She was indeed out of words.

The smirk displayed on Malfoy's face stretched, slowly becoming a devilish grin. That same old rude grin he always has.

"Perhaps you are not out of words. Are you Granger? Is it possible that you have countless words to say to Theodore, and you have nothing to say to me?" He scoffed, tapping his fingers on the armrest, like a ticking of the clock, as though reminding Hermione of his limited time to offer.

"I don't have all night, Granger. I suggest that you start talking now. I have important people waiting for me."

A heavy shower of reluctance poured over on Hermione, frantically wondering if Malfoy knew what she wanted to talk about, and if he would give her the real answers. The thoughts made her reflect on her position in his life. Right, who is she in his life for him to give her the answer that she deserves?

Hermione pulled herself to sit up on the edge of her bed, facing Malfoy.

"You know what, take your time," he said. "It's rare of you to initiate a conversation with me. So, I would rather honour this, right?" His lips dripped with thick sarcasm, cocking his head to the side as he did so.

"How important is this conversation with Theodore Nott? Why do you want to talk to him? It's something I should not know. Is it?"

It's something you should know about. Hermione answered in her mind.

"What do you remember after the war, Malfoy?" She began, subtly preparing herself for a trip down memory lane.

"You weren't there after the war. You and your family weren't there during the parade." Her voice began to sound brittle, and fighting it off only created a painful sore in the back of her throat.

"Did you even know what happened at the Quidditch Pitch?" Her jaw tensed, as talking began to feel like a challenge. Her vision began to blur from the tears forming in her eyes.

She found herself waiting for a pathetic denial or a witty response, but he settled in silence, and his playful grin faded. His gaze tore from hers for a moment.

She was aware of the tears rolling down her cheeks and was about to brush them off immediately, but then she recalled that she had nothing to hide from him anymore.

He'd seen her drenched in her own blood. He'd seen her nearly ending her life. He'd seen her naked, wounded, bruised, and beaten. He'd seen her beg and scream until the walls of her throat felt wounded. Hiding her tears would mean nothing anymore.

"They burned the bodies, Malfoy. I can still smell the burned bodies. Do you hear me? Those who still had the chance to live were given to the Vampires. They treated us like animals! I could still hear the screams and cries while those bastards did horrible things to them!"

She walked towards him while he sat silently, eyebrows nearly met in the centre of his temple.

"Did you even know that!?" She roared at his face and waited for his response.

She observed him process the words she said. The strain on his face relaxed. He let out a soft sigh and stared intently at her eyes.

"I know," Malfoy replied.