Granger's Wolf

Angry Red

She was ready to leave. She was just about to spin on her heel and apparate away, to look for Harry and Ron, but the look of panic, which slowly turned into sadness, on his face stopped her. Yes, Draco was a death eater and yes, he had most probably killed and tortured many innocent people on his way to greatness. But he also protected her. She felt responsible for blowing his cover, and she couldn't shake off the guilt. Thanks to her, he might never be able to rescue his mother. She had to repay him, and then she would leave.

Hermione lowered her wand, ‘I need some rest. Could you please show me where I will be staying?’

His face lit up immediately, ‘Of course. Follow me.’

The interior was simple and cozy. Being a Malfoy estate, she expected it to be extravagant, but like many times before, she was proved wrong. The walls were painted a calming cream color, and it had wooden floors. In front of the fireplace, there were two navy plush chairs, a coffee-colored sofa, and a coffee table above a light blue rug that had geometrical shapes. A little to the left was the open kitchen; it was all wood as well. 

Malfoy went past all this, with Hermione tailing behind, and stopped in a small corridor. There were two doors next to each other, opposite to a third one. He pointed at the first door of the two, ‘This is my room,’ he pointed at the door next to it, ‘this is yours,’ then he pointed at the last one, ‘and that is the bathroom.’

Hermione nodded, ‘We have to talk –

He looked away, ‘Not now.’

Hermione nodded once more, ‘Good night, Malfoy.’, then slipped into her room. Like the rest of the place, the floors were wooden and the walls cream. At the center of the room was a four-poster bed with navy sheets and covers, to its left was a wooden wardrobe, and to its right a lovely small dresser. She loved the room. It was certainly a good change from the lonely cell. Hermione went for the wardrobe and found that it had clean clothes. They must be Narcissa’s, she thought. She smelled of sweat and blood, so she decided to bathe. She picked some sleepwear, noticed that it was precisely her size, and then went for the bathroom.

Finally clean and in bed, she replayed the events of the last months in her head. It was a possibility that he had changed, that he could be a double agent working for the Order. But if that was true, she would have known, wouldn’t she? She was an important Order member, after all. But still, he could have easily hurt her and chose not to. He lost his position within the death eaters ranks as a price for protecting her. He couldn’t go back to being a death eater anymore; would he openly help the Order now? She found herself happy at the thought of him fighting with her, and it didn’t have anything to do with the greater good, it was purely selfish. The feeling troubled her, and before she could give it more thought, she fell asleep. And it was the deepest sleep she had had in a long time.

The following morning found Hermione preparing tea for herself and Malfoy. The kitchen had all the supplies anyone could need and then some. It's Malfoy's. What did you expect?

Once in the living area, she put both cups on the coffee table and cleared her throat, ‘We agreed to talk yesterday.’

Malfoy nodded silently.

‘I want to know why you helped me.’

Malfoy was tense, ‘I told you that is not possible.’

Hermione nodded, then slyly paraphrased the question, ‘Do you work for the Order?’

The look on his face implied that she’d said something terrible. He hissed, ‘I would never help those bloody fools.’

‘Then why-

He stood up, and went back to his old sneer, ‘Listen here, Granger. I hate the Order. I hate muggles and mudbloods’, she visibly flinched at the word, ‘and I would never aid those of filth for blood, or blood traitors.’

Merlin, that hurt. Hermione didn’t know why, but his words hurt her deeper than they should have. Hermione was so disappointed; she had been almost sure that he worked with them, but no, he was still a prejudiced pureblood. He also called her, and her kind, mudbloods. Again. How naïve of her to think that he had changed. She didn’t know when she had started crying, and felt humiliated about it, but she still had questions, ‘I don’t understand –

‘I won’t explain anything.’, he deadpanned.

All the sympathy and pseudo-trust she had for him were overpowered by her anger and disappointment. He was nothing more than a typical pureblood and a deadly death eater who, for some unknown reason, couldn’t murder his former classmate, which didn’t have to mean anything. She wiped her tears and took calming breaths, ‘Very well. Whatever your reason, I am grateful for your protection, and I consider it a debt I have to repay. I will help you free Lady Malfoy, and then I will leave.’

He looked hurt by her words, and she couldn’t imagine why, then he looked furious again, ‘I don’t need your bloody help! I can manage –

‘Quit being a prat. You need all the help you can get—

‘Don’t you dare insult me! You ungrateful—

‘I’m trying to help —

They were standing in front of each other, and he was looming over her dangerously. He looked so angry that it scared her. She had no idea why he was so angry. She was offering to help him rescue his mother! He should be grateful!

He was very close now, gripping his wand tightly, ‘I don’t need your help, mudblood. I would never stoop so low --

She slapped him across the face. Hard.

There was a deafening silence, then Hermione realized what she had done. She whispered, ‘I’m sorry.’

Her hand left an angry red mark on his cheek, and he stood very still. She tried again, ‘I’m sorry. I –
But he quietly moved away and out of the cottage. He didn't come back that day.

                               ~~~

H

ermione didn't see him for another five days. He was avoiding her, she noticed. At first, she wanted to apologize and was seeking him everywhere, then she realized that she shouldn't be the one apologizing. He insulted her and she was only offering to help, and so she stopped looking for him.

On the sixth day, she decided she had had enough. She had been waiting for him to think clearly and accept her offer, but he was too prejudiced to accept the help of a mudblood, and especially so after being slapped by said mudblood. She had to move on; there were more important things to do.

Hermione packed her beaded bag, snatched her wand, and went out of the cottage. She would leave and forget that dark chapter of her life forever.