Truce: A Dramione fanfiction Part ONE
So Iâve been working on a Dramione fic called âTruceâ. I have enjoyed working on it so much and Iâve decided to share it with you who reside within tumblr. Please send me feedback of what you think!
(Set after the Battle at Hogwarts when Hermione goes to Hogwarts to finish her seventh year)
Hermione pursed her lips in concentration as she jotted down the answers to her Charms homework. She was in the library after dinner, studying, but soon sheâd have to be back in her dormitory.
Hermione loved the Hogwarts library. She found solace in being surrounded by the towering shelves filled with dusty books and rolls of parchment. She dipped her quill in the raven black ink and glanced again at the boy sitting at the table near hers.
The boy was Draco Malfoy. Heâd been sitting there, head bent over a book, since before she had arrived. He hadnât been at dinner. Actually, he hadnât been going to mealtimes at all lately. Hermione knew she shouldnât have noticed, but she did.
Draco Malfoy did not look like the boy she knew. He was much paler than usual, like he had not been outside in weeks. His usually pristine, pale blond hair hung limp and mussed; flopping in every direction like he had just rolled out of bed. There were dark circles under his eyes that mirrored Hermioneâs own.
The biggest change in him was the way he carried himself. He no longer strutted about the halls of Hogwarts like he was Master of the Universe, he no longer surrounded himself with groveling admirers. He no longer surrounded himself with anybody. Whenever Hermione saw him, he was alone, his posture tired and heavy.
Draco wasnât the only one who was suffering, Hermione knew it. Everyone who was still alive after Voldemortâs reign of terror was still trying to piece themselves back together. Hermione herself was struggling to sleep through the night.
Nightmares plagued her sleep and Hermione always jolted awake in bed panting, reminding herself that it was all a dream.
She wondered if Draco was plagued by the same. She studied him, every pore in his body leaked weariness. When Draco looked up to meet her eyes and did not scowl, but only stared blankly at her, Hermione knew that he was plagued by nightmares too.
Hermione averted her eyes and quickly started packing up her books. She stuffed her quill, parchment, ink, and books into her bag and proceeded to get up. The library was going to close soon and she needed to get back to her common room.
Hermione jolted awake, panting. Tonight the dream had been of that terrible moment: the moment she had thought Harry was dead. Only this time, in her dreams, Harry did not wake up. In the beds beside her, her roommates slept soundly.
Hermione tossed and turned and tried to get back to sleep but every time she closed her eyes, she saw their faces. The faces of friend and enemy. She saw the laughing face of Fred Weasley, the thoughtful eyes of Professor Lupin, the crazy, colorful hair of Tonks.
She couldnât help it. Hermioneâs eyes stung as hot tears started to stream down her face. Her shoulders shook as she sobbed silently.
If only Harry or Ron were here. But the two of them hadnât come back to Hogwarts. Only Hermione had returned to finish her Seventh year. She missed both them terribly. They sent letters constantly, but still, it was different to have them around.
After an hour or so of tossing and turning, Hermione finally got up. She slipped on some shoes and padded quietly down to the common room. It was empty.
She stepped out of the portrait opening .
After seven years at Hogwarts, Hermione knew the castleâs halls like it was her own home. And in a way, it was. Usually, Hermione was against breaking rules, she used to hate it when the boys snuck out after curfew. But after these past sleepless nights, Hermione had grown to become an expert at navigating the corridors at night and avoiding Filch and Mrs. Norris.
Hermione only had one destination; the astronomy tower. Every night, sheâd climb up and sit by the towerâs window, watching the stars twinkle against the endless backdrop of black. When the sun started peeking through the horizon, only then would Hermione walk back to her common room.
Tonight was a cold night. Hermione shivered in her thin nightgown. Good thing she had the foresight to bring the sweater Mrs. Weasley had knit her for last Christmas. She pulled it on over her nightgown and sat at her usual spot by the window.
She wasnât alone tonight either. Draco Malfoy sat across from her, as he sometimes did. Draco wasnât constant like Hermione was. Sometimes he was there, sometimes he wasnât. Hermione wondered if it was because he didnât have as much nightmares as she did, or because he had other places to go to.
They didnât speak. The only sign Draco had shown that he was aware of her presence was a sideways glance in her direction, and that was all.
Actually, they hadnât spoken to each other after that first night.
Hermione had been making her way to the tower as usual, but as she neared her usual spot, she jumped back in surprise and nearly dropped her wand. Draco was sitting in the spot she usually claimed, cheek leaned against his curled fist, watching the sky.
He too jumped in surprise when she did. He pointed his wand at her the same moment she did. When Draco saw it was her he slumped back in what Hermione could swear was relief.
âOh, itâs only you.â He had murmured. Then he resumed his position and ignored her.
Hermione was a bit shocked at this. No sneering, no insults at hurled at her, not even a cold look. She took a minute to compose herself and then said, âYouâre in my spot, Malfoy.â
At this, Malfoy had turned to her and said in a toneless voice, âI didnât realize you owned it, Granger.â
Hermione scowled at him but he didnât react. He only stared at her with that blank look. Hermione didnât like it. He looked like even more like death when he did that. So she strode to him and gave him a kick on the leg, âMove over!â she commanded, pointing at the spot opposite hers.
Dracoâs eyes flashed with some of his old temper but it died as quickly as it came and he obediently moved. And that was the end of it, they didnât speak again after.
Tonight wasnât any different.
Hermione stared at Draco, (she stared at him quite a lot these days.) She just couldnât believe how much the boy had changed. It wasnât exactly a good change, though his arrogance and cruelty had been turned down so many notches it was almost non-existent, his new emotionless, death-like self wasnât really an improvement.
Hermione didnât know if Draco noticed her staring. The moonlight streaming into the window turned his hair and skin silver. Silver Death, thatâs what he looked like. Before she could stop herself, Hermione said quietly, âYou look like the dead.â
Draco slowly turned his head to face her, âSo,â he remarked blandly, âdo you.â
Hermione was well aware, but at least she had a bit of color in her cheeks and emotion other than utter blankness on her face.
âYou look worse,â she replied.
He didnât respond to this. Hermione thought he wasnât going to reply at all when he said softly, his voice tainted with emotion at last, âI keep seeing their faces.â
Hermione leaned against the wall and closed her eyes, âMe too,â she whispered back.
So that was part one of the Dramione fic Iâm working on! Tell me guys if you want the second part.
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