Narcissa's Time Turner

Chapter 16: Misery and Mercy

Warning: Discussion of disturbing things in this chapter. 

Draco Malfoy was making his prefect rounds that he had neglected in his original 6th year when he came across his mate looking miserable. He knew he was approaching her, because the pain of his soul splintering lessened whenever she was around, but he had no idea she would be like this. His veela was chanting, "Kill! Kill whoever did this! Protect her! KILL!" His shoulder blades, for some reason, started prickling painfully. The veela within him grew so angry the screeching became unintelligible, but he was determined to ignore it and console her. 

Hermione was sniffling, waving her wand about and making yellow canaries fly to and fro. Draco's heart ached for her. Draco sat down next to her on the stone castle steps. He took advantage of the narrow step to sit so close that he could feel the warmth of her thighs next to his. Just as he was about to ask her what was wrong, loud giggling could be heard approaching. Lavender Brown was hanging off of Ron Weasley's arm, and both of them were smiling as if they were drunk.

Lavender cocked her curls to the side when she saw the odd scene before her.

"Oh, I think this room's taken, Won Won, let's go somewhere else."

With that, Lavender walked back in the direction of the common room. Ron lingered behind for a moment, looking at Hermione's reddened eyes. The victorious smile and air of bravado around him that he had at the party had not disappeared.

"What are you doing with Malfoy? And, what's with the birds?" Ron said lightheartedly.

Hermione stood up with hatred burning in her eyes. "Oppugno." 

The birds flew at Ron, pecking and tormenting him until he left to follow Lavender.

Hermione sat back down in a huff so quickly that her legs were now pressed right against Draco's. His veela was now caught between hatred of Ron, joy that his mate seemed to not like Ron, and satisfaction at her touch. Draco couldn't help himself, he let out a small chuckle at the sight of the Weasel being attacked by an expert canary charm.

She glared at him. "Something worth laughing over?"

"Just that you're a right spitfire, my dear," Draco replied. Apparently, that was not the correct response, as Hermione's eyes got even angrier. 

'Oh this is so funny to you, is it? Mudblood, crying on her own, enjoying the show are you?"

"Granger, don't say-"

"Don't say what? Mudblood? The thing you called me a hundred times already? And now you dare, you dare! To call me your dear!"

She was furious. At him, at her friends, at the world. 

Draco decided to be honest with her. He couldn't tell her the whole truth yet, but he could give her this much.

"You are dear to me, Hermione."

She let out a surprised, mocking laugh.

"I mean it. You're the only friend I have that doesn't talk to me just because of my money, or because they're afraid of my family like Parkinson or Zabini," Draco confessed, "You're the only one. Isn't that what's funny, my only real friend hates me?"

"I-," She gulped, "I don't hate you."

Hermione felt incredibly guilty. Here she was taking all her anger out on Malfoy, who had only been kind to her this year. Her two supposed best friends hadn't even remembered her birthday, they rarely did, and now where were they? Off enjoying their victory. Off snogging some other girl, and rubbing it in Hermione's face on purpose. One had tricked her with that damned luck potion nonsense, and the other was furious at her for believing the trick. Some best friends they are. Those boys really knew how to make the brightest witch of her age feel like an idiot.