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Linked by Philyra912
 Books » Harry Potter Rated: T, English, Romance, Draco M., Hermione G., Words: 61k+, Favs: 4k+, Follows: 920, Published: Jun 18, 2005 Updated: Jan 5, 2006
 2,542 Chapter 12: Friends and Enemies
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the people or places that exist in his universe. I wouldn't mind owning Draco, though (no, not like that. Get your minds out of the gutter). Then he could stand around looking all broody and gorgeous, and do things for me like reach the stuff on the top shelf and open jars. A pretty kitchen appliance, if you will.
A/N: So here's the plan. I'll post the next chapter on either Tuesday or Wednesday of next week. It won't have any author's notes or review responses attached. I love you guys, but not that much. It will be the chapter, simple and straightforward. That doesn't mean you get out of reviewing, though! When I get back, I will respond to the reviews from both chapters, and there had better be a lot of them (J/K)! Review responses at the end!
Chapter 11: Friends and Enemies
Hermione had walked from the classroom with admirable composure, but by the time she reached Gryffindor tower what seemed like an eternity later, her legs burned from running up innumerable staircases, and her lungs were screaming for air. She wasn't entirely sure what she had been trying to outrun - Malfoy, memories, herself - but it hadn't worked, because she felt no less hunted as she gasped the password at the Fat Lady than she had as she'd stared into Malfoy's shocked and disbelieving eyes.
She scrambled ungracefully through the portrait hole, still drawing air into her greedy lungs in noisy gasps that sounded suspiciously like sobbing. Seven pairs of sleepy, surprised eyes turned to look at her. She didn't know why the Quidditch team hadn't left for practice yet, but she didn't care. Without speaking a word to any of them, she ran across the room and threw herself rather inelegantly into Harry's arms, burying her face in his chest as her tears began to fall.
Harry didn't seem to know what to do about this new development for a moment. His arms went around her rather stiffly at first, but he soon relaxed and began stroking her hair in a comforting manner. Hermione felt rather than saw Ron come to stand next to them, and she could just picture his face, darkened with concern and slight panic as it always was when she behaved emotionally.
"Go on and start running drills," Harry instructed the rest of the team, his chest rumbling beneath Hermione's ear. Apparently, no one moved, because Harry's next words were slightly impatient. "Go on, then. We'll be out in a while. Remember what I said about that second formation, Dennis. You need to remember to give yourself enough space to maneuver. You're were practically in Ginny's lap last time we practiced."
The sound of shuffling feet and curious whispers began to move toward the portrait hole. After nearly seven years of friendship, Harry and Ron had learned that the best way to respond to one of Hermione's emotional outbursts was to remain silent, nod encouragingly, and offer verbal and physical comfort as needed. Therefore, they led her over to a couch, Harry's arm around her shoulder and Ron's hands grasping one of hers tightly. Their quiet kindness heaped guilt upon her heart even as it gave her strength. She had never told them about the dark night in their third year when her will, usually so strong, had wavered without them there to support it. She intended to tell them now, but not until her tears ran dry, and at the moment, that didn't seem likely to happen in the foreseeable future.
She cried as though her very heart was breaking, as though she would never stop. She cried for an innocent, tortured little boy who had grown up to be an angry young man, and for another who had never had the chance to grow up at all. She cried for a young Muggle-born witch whose life had been taken on a starless night, and for another whose life had almost been lost to a similar darkness. Each tear seemed to lessen the weight that had been steadily building in her heart over the last three days, and each shuddering breath was easier than the last.
