A/N: This is my first Harry Potter Fic! I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters. This is a loose sort of songfic, using Taking Back Sunday's "…Slowdance on the inside." Download the song if you want to see what inspired this oneshot. They're in their seventh year in this story, and the Half-Blood Prince never happened. This is a possible pre-darkfic.
Please review, I love criticisms, praise, bashings, and comments.
Draco Malfoy looked up sharply from his parchment to the sound of voices in the dark hall outside the empty classroom. He was on patrol through the corridors as a prefect for Slytherin house, and on this particular night, he hadn't come across any student out past curfew.
Seizing the silent night and an empty classroom, he took the time to complete a lengthy Potions essay. Engrossed in finishing his work and forgetting his patrol duties, the voices outside startled him.
Outside, a giggling Lavender Brown and a stumbling Parvarti Patil propped up a half-conscious Hermione Granger between them.
"Where are we g-g-going?" Slurred Hermione, her head rolling upright.
"We're trying to get back to Gryffindor Tower! Just-try-to-WALK!" Lavender yelled in surprise as Parvarti tripped over a stone, loosening her grasp of Hermione. Unable to stay on her feet without Parvarti's help, Hermione fell, hitting her head against the stone wall.
Too drunk to feel the pain of the impact, Hermione slid down the wall, laughing as she crumpled to the ground. This caused Lavender to giggle uncontrollably and double over with laughter onto the hallway rug.
After the difficult studies of their Seventh Year at Hogwarts, Hermione wanted to get her mind off of schoolwork entirely for the holiday break. So naturally, when she received a large bottle of strong vodka as a Christmas gift from Viktor Krum, she did what any normal teenage girl would do.
She grabbed some friends and drank the stress away on a Saturday night.
A full schedule of classes with essays and tests? Gone with the third shot.
Breaking up with Ron, and grudgingly consenting to be friends? Blasted away by shot six.
The constantly growing threat of You-Know-Who? She didn't even need a chaser by the time she reached shot seven.
Feeling ugly and worthless? Number nine with a bullet. But as anybody who had ever drank before would know, you can chase all the thoughts away with alcohol, but they're bound to return, fierce and painful.
Sadly, Hermione wouldn't know. She had never been drunk before this. She didn't know she couldn't hold her liquor.
Obviously the least drunk of the three, Parvarti leaned against the wall and looked around in alarm. Hermione and Lavender cracked up insanely from the floor. They had to get back to the tower, and soon. Lavender could walk on her own, but Hermione was blacking out and couldn't walk without leaning heavily on somebody.
"SHUT UP!" Hissed Parvarti, looking up and down the horribly dark hallway. "We're gonna get caught by whoever's patrolling. Get up, Lavender, help me get Hermione."
"Okay, okay." Lavender labored to her feet, steadying herself against Parvarti. "Hermione's really… wasted." They looked at her, where she lay on the ground, making no effort to raise her head. She had gone strangely quiet. "She drank most of the bottle…"
All at once, Parvarti grabbed Lavender's mouth, extinguishing anything she was about to say. The creaking down the hall scared her nearly to sobriety.
"Do you hear that?" Parvarti asked. Lavender nodded her head, a frightened look creeping across her features.
They turned quickly to Hermione. She lay slumped on the stone, unmistakably asleep.
"Hermione! HERMIONE!" They shook her shoulders to wake her up, speaking in forced whispers.
Footsteps were heard coming around the corner, Parvarti and Lavender looked quickly at each other.
"We can't carry her!"
"We'll get caught!"
"Just leave her!"
Leaving the sleeping Hermione, Lavender and Parvarti took off running down the hall to Gryffindor Tower.
Draco turned the corner, unable to see who was running away from him down the dark hall. He was too tired to chase them.
Let them get away this time. He thought. Draco hardly was himself these days. He was exhausted, as though the Dark Mark on his left forearm was draining his life away. He was handsome and tall, but his beautiful face had an icy look to it, hardened by all that he had seen within the past couple years since his induction as a Death Eater.
Now that he knew what Dark Magic and Power felt like, he cared little to brag about it. It would reveal itself in due time to the wizarding world. He carried out his duties to the Dark Lord silently and efficiently, knowing his reign of power and fame would soon come, sweeter than taunting his schoolmates with his glory as one of the trusted Inner Circle.
Nights like these, when he felt horribly tired and hopeless, he let his mind wander to all that would be his when the Dark Lord reigned again. Anything he wanted would be his. And anyone. He thought, his mind jumping to the face that haunted his dreams for years now. The thick, gorgeous hair, the cinnamon eyes that held behind them all the intelligence he never thought a mudblood could possess. The Dark Lord promised her to him for all his sacrifices and unwavering loyalty.
He loved her with a mixture of hatred, jealousy and angst. She was everything he'd always wanted that would never come willingly. She was strong, intelligent, beautiful, and completely out of his league. She'd never love him, but the day was fast coming when it wouldn't matter: he could own her.
Turning to return to his essay in the empty classroom, he saw a heap of black robes and curly brown hair, which he immediately recognized. Draco was frozen to the spot, gripped by dozens of thoughts at once. Was she hurt? Had she been hexed or cursed? Who did this? And most horrifying of all, Would she be alright?
Walking closer, he saw her move slightly with each breath she took, and he relaxed slightly. She moaned faintly, and he rushed to her. Turning her over, he was met with a strong scent of alcohol.
"Hermione." He said softly, almost in disbelief. Her eyes fluttered open, but no sign of recognition crossed her eyes. She smiled lightly, drunkenly. All the same, she looked beautiful to Draco: she never smiled at him before.
He snapped back to his senses. She probably won't remember this. But all the same, I can't risk it. Draco painted his handsome face with a sneer. He can't let her see even a bit of what he felt for her.
"Drunk, Granger? Passed out in your school clothes and everything." Hermione seemed to wake up a bit more. Draco helped her to sit up against the stone. "I should report you, you know."
"Please don't." she said quietly, looking into his eyes. Something in his chest lurched at her words.
"Well…" He stammered. "You're obviously drunk. I don't want to carry you, mudblood."
Hermione's eyes glistened. "Don't call me that. Not tonight." Even through the slur of her speech, she sounded profoundly sad. Draco felt his defenses crashing. She wouldn't remember any of this. He had enough experience with drinking to know that.
"I guess I could help you back to your dorm. Come on, get up." Draco said, nudging her.
She tried to get her legs to move, but she collapsed from the effort, falling against Draco's muscular chest and sighing. "I can't seem to do this. Just let me sleep here tonight."
Draco felt himself tense up where she lay her head. "You can't just stay here. Just guide me to where the tower is. And STAY AWAKE!" He yelled, when he saw she had nodded off again. Hermione jumped a little. Draco put his arms around her tiny waist and lifted her to a standing position.
She's so small. He noted, feeling her thin arms wrap around him. The top of her head came just under his chin. Normally she seems so tall. Hermione carried her chin up high and proud when she walked.
He picked her up in his strong arms, carrying her as if she were his bride. This made him smile to himself. But somewhere in his heart he realized she would never let him this close of her own free will. He knew he never could have the girl who topped his grades every year, who once slapped him in the face, the Hermione who he stared at in the hallway everyday for years. I'm taking you for granted. Soon, she'd never be free again.
He started walking. "Stay awake, Hermione. Granger, I mean." He was suddenly aware that she was looking up into his face with a mixture of fear and wonder.
"Is it true what everyone says?" She asked.
"That you're a lot nicer and quieter when you're drunk?" Draco answered, somehow sensing what she would ask, and avoiding it by insulting her.
"No." She said, pressing on to urgently ask her question. "Are you a Death Eater?" Even through the drunkenness, Hermione was shocked she had the boldness to ask.
"Don't be stupid." Draco said, barely convincing himself. If he told her the truth, she would tell Harry. He was afraid she'd become frightened of him and try to run away. "I promise you I'm not."
"So promise."
"Well, cross my heart and hope to…" he trailed off, unable to finish. I'm lying just to keep you here. I shouldn't be talking about this. It's so reckless, so thoughtless, and so careless. He changed the subject, "So why the drinking? You're bloody perfect, for Merlin's sake." He sounded concerned. "But I could care less" He added, almost an afterthought.
"I've had a lot on my mind. I've never done this before tonight" She responded absently, directing her attention to a portrait they passed.
"It's a bad habit. How much did you drink?"
"Nine shots. I think I had too much."
"You're so small. You had about five too much. You shouldn't do that. You could have a touch of alcohol poisoning."
"As if it mattered to you, Malfoy." Her voice pierced him. She's so heartless.
"Yeah well, I could care less." Once again, he knew he didn't sound convincing. And it didn't really matter, Hermione's eyes were closed and she breathed steadily. "Wake up!"
Hermione's eyes shot open, and her stare didn't waver as she looked into his steely face. "It's a long night and you've got a lot on your mind. You're an open book. I know it."
"No you don't, Mudblood." Draco returned sharply, avoiding her deep, questioning eyes. He half-wished he'd let her pass out.
"You're right. I have no idea." Hermione laughed drunkenly. "I was trying to get you to talk."
"The only talking I want to hear from you are the directions to your dorms."
"Are you a Death Eater?"
"Don't you ask me. I told you already I wasn't." Draco almost yelled at her.
"I'm sorry." She whispered, making Draco feel awful.
"Do you know who you're talking to?" Draco asked, perplexed at her civility.
"Of course." She said.
"Why aren't you hating me?" Draco's heart skipped a beat.
"I don't have the energy." She answered simply, dashing his hopes that she might harbor even some of the feelings which kept him staring at her everyday. "But you've made these years so awful for me. I will never be a pureblood. You've made me feel so horrible for something I can't change. I will never see you after we leave Hogwarts, but I will hate you until the day I die." She finished with the air of a long rehearsed speech.
If only you knew we'd see each other again, thought Draco. One day, you'll be mine, and you won't find any escape. You will hate me as you do now, you always will. But you will belong to me. The pleasure he got from this single thought flooded through him as it did every night he thought about it.
"You're eloquent even when you're drunk." Draco said at length. By then, Hermione dropped off to sleep in Draco's arms. He carried her small unconscious body, figuring the way to the dorms from the map he carried on his patrol of the corridors.
One of us never did it, but we're taking it all. He thought, about the constant power struggle between the both of them at school. It had been like that for years. But he had always loved her for it. He looked down at her delicate face. And tell me why you never promised that you wanted it all. The moment she said it, he'd give her the world. He hated himself because she never loved him. He'd let her have all of him. Her eyes never batted when she said it, "It's a long night…Open…Know it." Draco fought off the urge to kiss her. The time would come soon enough.
He reached the portrait that led the way to the Gryffindor common room. He knocked on it loudly. The Fat Lady didn't wake up from where she snored, but he hoped to wake up someone that had fallen asleep in the common room. Sure enough, he heard someone on the other side. He left Hermione laying at the foot of the portrait, and ran down the hall, stopping only when he knew the darkness would mask him. Ginny Weasley, wearing a nightgown, opened the portrait from inside the dorm, immediately seeing Hermione and dragging her inside.
Draco knew she would be safe now. He began the long walk back to the Slytherin dungeons. He could get the Potions essay from the classroom in the morning. He just wanted to sleep now. He knew Hermione wouldn't remember a thing. Hell, she was so drunk that she didn't bother to constantly remind him of how much she hated him.
He felt the Dark Mark burning on his left forearm. Draco rolled up his sleeve to see it burning crimson red. Sleep had to wait. He hated himself more than ever.
This glass house is burning down
You light the match, I'll stick around.
I'll give you everything you want
And wish the worst of what I was.
And as he stood in the Inner Circle listening to the plans he was privileged enough to hear, Draco couldn't help but recall the divine smell of her hair.
Tonight won't make a difference.
The End