To Destroy » Dramione

|17.| Pity

Draco woke up to a spitting headache. It felt as if his head was on fire, as he lifted it off the wooden table, before looking around and wondering where he was. It was then, he realized, he had passed out at the Leaky Cauldron. He vaguely remembers the previous night, except that he found Granger and had a few drinks with her. If his head didn't feel so miserable, he would have wondered where she went, but his head felt as if it were splitting, resulting in him not caring of her whereabouts. In fact, he didn't care about anything, except getting home and taking a long rest in his bed, hoping to nurse his hangover.

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Hermione woke up in her room. It felt as if it had been forever since she slept in her own bed, that she was discombobulated for a few moments. Not only that, but she found herself groaning at the pain erupting inside of her skull. Not only that, but she also felt ashamed. The memories of last night were rather vague, but she knew she shouldn't have drank with Draco. She knew more people will talk, Ron will most likely hear more rumors, and her hole that was dug will most likely become larger. "This is what I get for helping someone, when I can't even help myself," she sighs, as she sits up slowly. Her head hurt tremendously, but it wasn't nearly as bad as the many hangovers she used to get.

Her body was clean, for she had gotten a shower just before crawling into bed the previous night. Actually, it was more like stumbling into bed, for she was still rather drunk, despite the cold from walking home and the water from the shower. However, her skin smelled of coconut, and it was rather refreshing. It was nice to be home again, even though it barely felt like home. The last time she was here, was when Draco wiped Ginny's memory clean, and just the reminder of that causes Hermione's head to hurt even more. All these memories and flashbacks and reminders, were just too much. She needed to get away from all of this, to heal herself, to make everything okay with her best friends, and that was what she was going to do. She wasn't going to sell Draco out — for everything inside of her told her it was wrong. After all, he would most likely be sent to Azkaban, especially for having an illegal possession and condoning Theo's collection. Instinctively, Hermione glances over on her dresser, the gold Time Turner sitting there as a reminder of what she knows and what she's gone through these past few days.

She wasn't going to tell Harry about Draco wanting to murder him, but she needed to tell him that she wasn't in love with Draco, either. Skeeter's rumors, were just rumors. But then again, if she told Harry it was all fake, it would leave Draco taking the blame of erasing Ginny's memories, and it'd become an even bigger mess. One that would make it harder to hide Draco's secret.

Sighing, Hermione realizes she can't go and visit Harry. It would be too risky, and she wouldn't do that to Draco. After all, if Draco spared Hermione, she knew he could spare Harry. She loved Harry, and didn't want anything to happen to him, but there was something inside of her that reminded her that Draco wasn't hopeless. He was still the young Slytherin boy on the inside, he just needed some healing, just like she did.

Deciding on what to do, she gets dressed and goes in search of her wand. She was going to visit Draco, for a promise is a promise, and she was going to end this once for all. After all, she was Hermione Jean Granger, she could handle anything.

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Despite claiming to handle anything, that wasn't the actual case.

The Malfoy Manor sat in front of Hermione, and her stomach was already starting to turn at the thought of walking back inside. Not only that, but her head was still aching from the alcohol she consumed the previous night, and it wasn't a good mixture.

Why am I here? Why does it matter if he gets sent to Azkaban? After all, what do I owe him? She wonders to herself, before letting out a sigh. It wasn't as if she owed him anything, it was because she knew she should help if it were possible that she could help. It wasn't even so much for Draco, it was for his mother that loved him dearly. This still didn't make any of this easier, however, but she caught a hold of any bravery she could, and lifted her hand to knock on the door.