Clean

The Faces

Chapter 23: The Faces

"Tell me what you have so far."

"Just – just the cabinets – those are non-negotiable, at this point – "

"What else?"

"What do you mean, what else?"

"Surely you've thought this through!"

He'd gotten up and paced through his room. "I haven't, Granger, of course I haven't – I don't want to do this! I don't want any of this!"

Hermione kept replaying their conversation over and over in her mind. It was clear Malfoy was unraveling – the fact that he didn't have a plan was dangerous, and the closer he got to running out of time – there was only so much left in the year, after all – the more endangered the entire school became.

She was sitting in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Malfoy beside her. It was all she could do not to repeatedly sneak glances at him, relieved as she was to have him there again.

"Still – Malfoy – you're too smart for this, there's too much at stake – "

"Don't you think I know that? Don't you think I know exactly how much is at stake?"

He'd collapsed on the bed, hanging his head, and she'd crawled over to him, straddling him comfortably from behind and resting her cheek against his back.

"I'm here now. You're not alone. You don't have to go through this alone."

He gripped her hands where they were clasped over his chest.

As though he could read her thoughts, he slipped his hand over her knee, caressing it under the desk and rubbing his thumb across the hem of her skirt.

"How do you think I should do it?"

"You'll have to just – do it."

Even she could hear the strange darkness in her voice. She cleared her throat quickly.

"What I mean is that you can't rely on some surrogate method – poison, or a curse – "

"I know what you meant."

He'd sounded bitter, like the words were unsavory on his tongue.

"It just has to come down to him and me."

"Yes," she agreed, pressing her lips to his back – but it didn't seem to be enough, just the kiss. She sunk her teeth in, bearing down. Tasting him.

His hand on her knee felt reassuring. She put her own hand down, covering his.

"You make it sound so easy – I thought you cared about him."

"Dumbledore? I do, of course. Of course."

"But – "

"You don't have a choice," she'd said firmly, tightening her arms around him. "So I don't have a choice, either."

They hadn't said much after that. Even knowing the task, even with no remaining mystery as to how awful it truly was, she still felt strangely detached; had that really been her, the silly girl who volunteered herself to facilitate a killing?

Desperate times, indeed.

All she knew was that she'd been in Draco Malfoy's mind – felt what was in his heart – and this was not a bad man. If she looked at him now she would see the agony etched into the lines of his face, the haunting exhaustion hidden in his grey eyes. He'd already been subjected to torment she had never experienced and he'd somehow become beautiful in it, transformed and evolved where a lesser man would collapse. She felt for him a fierce protectiveness she'd scarcely known – not even for Harry. And if she would do the unthinkable for Harry, a hundred times over – surely there was no doubt. She would do the same for Draco Malfoy.