title: Décalcomanie
pairing: Dramione
notes: a fanfic (probably song fic) because, for some reason, every time I hear MAMAMOO's Decalcomanie, I think of dramione even though there's no correlation whatsoever. (However, the song title kind sorta sounds like dramione).
notes: this fanfic will probably have three to ten short chapters. I have a few planned out already, but don't get your hopes up for a longer story. Depending on people's reactions, I'll add more or not. If I do write more chapters, I'm hoping each chapter can stand on its own, so I'm just going to have a COMPLETE on this story. And so, without further ado, enjoy.

Décalcomanie

Knock Knock
Your unexpected entrance
Your unusual look
Something feels suspicious
It's ten minutes before twelve

Draco doesn't know when his panic makes him hyperventilate. He's stopped listening to the useless ghost's rambles a long time ago, Myrtle's shrill voice doing nothing for his stress-induced headache. His reflection stares back at him with the same fright, same horror, that's probably painted his face for the last few months. He can see his cheekbones jutting out, his cheeks hollow with the weight he's lost.

Something, maybe a sound or maybe just survival instincts, alerts him to an unwanted intruder. He points his wand at the entrance, a crucio on the tip of his tongue, when he catches sight of a mane of brown curls.

Hermione holds her hands up, palms facing him. She takes a deep breath, and her face is blank, but Draco knows he saw a shiver of fear in her wide eyes when he aimed his wand at her.

He doesn't trust his voice, his hand already betraying him with its slight tremors, but he musters his best sneer to mask his months-long stress. "What are you doing here? Spying on me for Pothead and the Weasel?"

"Well, actually, the redhead hasn't talked to her in a while already," Myrtle laughs nervously. The ghost probably doesn't want a duel breaking out. Since her eyes are darting between the two of them, one with a wand drawn and the other still with her hands up, she already anticipates a one-sided battle. "Too preoccupied with the girl he's been sticking his tongue in. Broke her heart, the stupid boy did." She's desperately trying to lighten the mood, her laughter becoming more and more forced.

"Thanks, Myrtle," Hermione mumbles. She doesn't take her eyes off Draco's hawthorn wand, but her lips have turned into an uncomfortable frown, her eyes almost rolling at the ghost's nervous giggle.

"Can you give us a minute?" This, she asks the ghost who's all too happy to disappear from the tense atmosphere.

Hermione lowers her hands, but Draco doesn't lower his wand.

"I'm not leaving," she says in a defiant sigh.

"It's the boys' bathroom."

She shoots him a look that says she doesn't quite care about that.

For a moment, it's just awkward silence. Draco almost shuffles his feet, his hand still shaking. It doesn't sit well with him that she's just standing there defenseless while he's drawn his wand at her. Reminds him too much of those muggles over the summer, the ones his aunt tortured and killed. She's defenseless, just like they were. Why doesn't she pull out her wand? Stupid bint, she's probably trying to act all righteous and noble or something. Stupid muggle-born trying to act like she's better than him.

He wonders when he's stopped thinking of her as a mudblood.

"Are you alright?"

Her question almost makes him drop his wand.

"Going soft on me, mud—" He stutters on the word, doesn't want to be like his aunt who throws that word around as if she's talking about bugs and rats. "I don't need your pity," he sneers again, trying to distract her from his stammer.

But the bloody know-it-all has this weird look on her face, that worried look she reserves for her two other musketeers. "Whatever it is," she says, somewhat cautiously, somewhat comfortingly, "if you need someone to listen to you, someone to talk to..."

She takes a slow step forward, and Draco takes a quick step backwards. His wand is still aimed at her, but it's obvious how much his out-stretched arm is shaking. She wraps a hand around his fist, the one holding his wand, and gives him a wary smile.

"This is the part where you say I'm dirtying your purebloodiness." She's making a joke, but she sounds too stiff, too cautious, too serious to be funny.

He laughs anyways, a broken sound that doesn't even sound like a laugh. "Like blood even matters anymore."

That's when he crumples. His legs fold, his wands drops to the floor the same time he does, and he buries his head in his hands. He cries, his sobs sounding like gasps. He recoils when two arms wrap around him only because he hadn't expected her kindness.

She takes it as an insult to her blood. Her arms leave him, and she turns to leave when he strides up to her and hugs her from behind.

"I'm sorry," he sobs it like a prayer. "I'm sorry. Everything I learned was all wrong. Blood is the same everywhere. Wizards, witches, muggles, pureblood, half-blood, muggleborn, it's all the same. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

He apologizes over and over to her, apologizing desperately because for the last few years he's given her grief for her blood. Her blood that's not even dirty. Blood that's probably cleaner that his.

Sometime during his apology, she's turned around, and she rests his head against her shoulder. They're both sitting on the ground when he tells her everything. Everything that happened over the summer. Everything that happened this school year. His father's failure. His forced admission as a death eater. His mission. His punishment, should he fail. And worse, what he's done. About Madam Rosmerta. About Katie Bell. What he's trying to do. How scared he is. How worried he is about his mother.

He spills everything to this girl he's hated. Hated because of her association with Potter and the Weasley. Hated because she bested him in all their classes when his father's told him she's lower than him. Hated because she's everything he wished he could be.

He tells this girl everything, not expecting her to believe him.

She hugs him tighter. Doesn't even judge him, not even when he confesses all his sins. How he watched his aunt torture muggles. How his aunt forced him to participate or have her crucio his mother. How scared he had been. How he wanted to run. How he has to kill Dumbledore or risk his mother who had almost died trying to give birth to him, his mother who loves him no matter what he's done. How he used an unforgiveable twice to accomplish his mission. How utterly alone he feels.

And all throughout his sobs, all throughout his breakdown, Hermione hugs him and tells him over and over again, "Everything is going to be alright. Everything's going to be okay."

He knows it's a lie because how can anything be okay? But he chooses to believe her anyways.

ending notes: review and tell me what you think :3