Sorting Priorities (a Romione/Dramione Fic)

Chapter 9 • Relapse

Draco tossed his wand into the air, watching it spin around before catching it and repeating the motion. He had so much on his mind. He didn't know Hermione's feelings towards him, he had to figure out how to kill Dumbledore, he had to do well in school unless he wanted his father to be even angrier with him--Draco was absolutely packed to the brim with worries. Signing up to stay during break, he had planned to work on the vanishing cabinet, but now he was worried about Hermione's safety, so he thought he might try to patch things up with her.

But he knew he couldn't. Not with Weasley dating her. Like he had said to Hermione before, he wanted her to be happy with who she ended up with, but he had always assumed it would be him. Now he was just jealous and heartbroken. He slashed his wand frustratedly through the air, sending a scorching trail of sparks flying against the green hangings on his bed. A burning smell filled the room, but Draco still stood stiffly.

He hated himself. He hated that he was broken, that however hard he tried, Hermione would always be too good for him. He deserved everything that happened to him. He just wanted Hermione. He could care less for Voldemort's plans or his parents' wishes. He wanted a normal life.

Draco turned around, moving jerkily out of the dormitories to the bathrooms. He splashed cold water over his face, washing away the hot tears that threatened to burn the familiar tracks down his cheeks. He stared into the flat mirror, hardening himself into his usual arrogant image, and dried his face off. He was better than this. Walking out of the dormitory into the deserted common room, Draco stopped and looked out the glass window into the eerie green lake water. He had always been proud to be a Slytherin, but for the first time in his life, he wished more than anything that he was not.

Pulling a dish of porridge to his solitary perch on the far end of the Slytherin table, Draco stole a glance at Hermione. It killed him to see her every day, laughing and holding hands with Weasley, even trading the occasional kiss. Angry at his weakness, Draco pressed his lips together, spooning a steaming helping into his bowl, and forced down a few bites, even though he wasn't hungry. He hadn't been hungry for weeks, ever since Hermione walked away from him. Ever since he let her walk away from him.

The usual owl post flew into the hall, a few owls dropping cards and parcels onto the laps of the students who had stayed at Hogwarts for the break. Draco caught the piece of parchment his parents' owl had brought him, reading the letter with distaste. Scoffing, he crumpled it and tossed it across the table. His parents wanted to know when the cabinet would be ready, if Snape was helping, if the Dark Lord would be satisfied with his work, the usual nagging. The cabinet would never be ready if he could help it, but Snape kept shoving his greasy nose into his business.

Draco shook off his anger, standing up to leave the Hall. He cast a final glance at Hermione, but stopped as he saw her eyes on him too. His heart jumped and missed a few beats, and he could feel the swooping in his stomach he was so familiar with from before things got so hard. He could see Hermione's face reddening, and she gave a jerky nod before looking away.

Draco's stomach dropped. His mind had convinced him that she would get up and kiss him again, pull him back into her soft embrace, make him forget his pain, but she had just turned away. He choked down the tightness in his throat, but stared at the rippling waves of hair framing Hermione's face for a few minutes, remembering the feel of it sliding between his fingers. He swore he could see her eyes stare up at him a few more times, but he knew better than to let his mind run away again.

Finally tearing his eyes away, Draco walked dejectedly across the Hall to his dormitories, but changed his course to go to the Prefects' bathroom. He could use some relaxation.

He reached the fifth floor, muttered the password, and entered the gleaming room. He grabbed a few of the fluffy white towels hanging on the walls, locked the door, and turned on the taps before stripping off his robes. Tossing his robes into a heap on the other side of the bathroom, Draco waited another minute for the long tub to finish filling, inhaling the steamy fumes. Only after smelling the room did he realize he had chosen the same scent Hermione always did, bringing on another pang of longing.