Snow Storm - D.M , H.G

8. Anti-Saviour

Hermione stayed in her room for the remainder of the evening. Harry had stayed with her for as long as he could justify, before returning to the academy. She could tell he was hesitant to leave her alone with Draco and his rage.

Draco did not emerge from his room except for frequent smoke breaks on the balcony. She'd never seen him smoke so much, and it worried her. She wondered if she should check on him, but she was afraid of his reaction. He'd spent half the night destroying everything in sight, repairing, and destroying it all once more. He was suffering, and probably very, very high.

Come Sunday morning she didn't hear or see anything from him. Maybe he'd worn himself out? Maybe he'd overdosed. She was genuinely scared to find out. She decided it would be best to give him the afternoon before checking on him.

It was about three o'clock when Draco finally made an appearance, wearing only his favorite grey sweatpants as usual. Hermione had been reading on the couch all day to ensure that if he did come out she wouldn't miss him. Crookshanks, who had been curled up on Hermione's feet, keeping them warm for her, jumped up and trotted off to Hermione's bedroom to avoid the wizard. The first thing Draco did was get a glass of water. Hermione watched over the top of her book. Merlin, she loved the way he wore those pants. He looked okay, physically, if not a little grumpy.

"Are you alright?" Draco asked Hermione haughtily, as though even feeling the need to ask was a great inconvenience to him.

Hermione didn't exactly know how to respond to that. "I'm okay," Hermione told him, feeling small. "Are you alright?"

Draco scoffed bitterly. "I'm fine," he claimed. Anger continued to radiate off of him. It wasn't as strong as the night before, but it was still there.

It was obvious to Hermione that Draco was suffering an internal struggle. A crisis of self, one might say. She'd never seen him look less confident in the many years she'd known him.

"What was I supposed to do?" Draco asked in a snippy tone after a brief silence.

Startled, Hermione set her book down and sat up straight from her reclined position. "I... I don't know."

"He was hurting you," Draco went on with what Hermione was beginning to recognize as the start of a rant.

"I know," she replied reassuringly.

"He was going to rape you."

Hermione cringed and looked down, eyes closed. He just had to use that word, didn't he? "I know."

"Then he would have killed you when he was done!" He was shouting now, and Hermione could hardly take it.

"I know!" She yelled back at him. Maybe he just needed to fight it out. Maybe she did too. "You think I don't know that?"

"I'm not a hero! That's not what I do!" He began to approach her now, and she pushed herself back on the couch until she met the arm.

"Well apparently it is!" Hermione shouted back much more bravely than she felt. "Because it's not the first time!" He seemed startled by that statement. She continued. "You saved me yesterday, just like you saved Harry at your manor, just like you threw Harry your wand in battle so he could finish the job. YOU did those things!"

"I'm not a hero!" He shouted again. "I'm a killer! I've killed so many more than I've saved."

Hermione choked back a sob. She didn't like to think of the things he was forced to do while serving under Voldemort. "You had no choice." She stated firmly.

"I had no choice yesterday," he told her, his tone contradicting. "When I saw what he-" he shook away the image I'm his mind. "I'm not that guy, okay?"