A/n: This is the introductory and explanatory chapter to a story that I have already written and plan to post on here if I get enough reviews, let's say twenty. So contribute to that count if you want to see more of this story! Well, enjoy!
{Prequel: Reminiscing}
RomanceCharm
Draco Malfoy had once been her enemy, an immature little ferret- boy that she whole-heartedly despised. This rivalry had gone on for seven straight years, haunting her schooling at Hogwarts. It was only at their class graduation party celebrating the conclusion of their education there that the relationship began to elevate to a level beyond loathing. As they say, there is a fine line between love and hate.
Over the course of her sixth year at Hogwarts, Hermione had acquainted a friendship with Hufflepuff Hannah Abbott, as Harry was so depressed about losing his godfather and Ron was too nervous to be alone with Hermione. The two girls became friends and carried that friendship through the rest of their schooling. At the graduation party, Hannah convinced Hermione to loosen up and they both drank a substantial amount of fire whiskey. In her drunken state, Hermione got up and danced with a clearly intoxicated Draco Malfoy, and hormones raced. The rivals got down and dirty as they were drunk, and Hermione invited him back to her new apartment in the city. Of course Draco accepted, and that night he took something from her she could never reclaim; her virginity.
Finding herself wrapped in Draco's arms the next morning was a rude awakening for Hermione. Both teens were heavily hung over, but conscious enough to realize what they had done and scorn themselves. Lucius had heard of their night on the town and furious, apparated to the apartment and viciously insisted that Hermione take a pregnancy test. When the results came back, Draco received a fierce tongue- lashing for disgracing the family by producing a child with a Mudblood.
At the words that she was carrying Draco Malfoy's child Hermione thought her world had collapsed. If only she knew the pain and suffering that lay ahead, she would have merely thought a sole brick had fallen from her sturdy walls. During the time that Lucius was in another room obtaining the pregnancy test results, Draco had snidely assured her that there would be no precious child to grace her dirty life with, for there never was; Hermione was disgusted, and felt he was just showing off, but it was true that he hadn't fathered any children yet. So it can be trusted that both she and Draco were a little more than surprised when they received the news.
Though the idea inwardly repulsed Lucius, he felt that it would be respectable of Draco to room with Hermione and support her through her pregnancy, and then the torment would be over once the child was born. Draco and Hermione both instantaneously protested against the proposal, but Lucius had decided, and apparated out. The one-time lovers stood there glaring at each other, mentally bracing themselves for the worst nine months of their lives.
Hermione vividly remembered the hot day of July 2nd, two days after the graduation party, when she fully moved into the apartment, and Draco was already settled in. All of her belongings had been transferred the day before, but she decided to sleep one last night at her parent's house. She arrived that morning to the apartment, and immediately decided she didn't like the arrangement of the furniture in the living room. She had reorganized the room multiple times already, never being satisfied, when she heard a manly tone amusedly address her, "What a great way to be woken up."
"Holy shit!" she screamed, startled, and she fell backwards over the arm of the arm of the white plush chair she was moving. She sat up and was again surprised when she took note of his apparel, just a pair of silver-brimmed, green silk boxers. "Um..." she shook thoughts of the sexy body she was seeing before her. Playing Quidditch all of those years had definitely honed his muscles. "Why are you bloody sneaking up on me?" she asked coldly, her harsh demeanor toward him returning.
Draco shrugged indifferently. "Just looking for something entertaining to put my day into perspective. Thanks, babe," he said as he left for the kitchen.
The look she threw him could really tear into anyone, that is, except Draco Malfoy. "Well you're not welcome, you selfish prat. I would think impregnating a woman would allow you to show some consideration for her, but I suppose some things never change," she angrily called after him.
"And I would think that you'd be thanking the impregnator from bringing something meaningful to your pitiful life. From what I recall, you were really into it too," he sneered, pleased. "But I guess I can't argue that some things won't ever change," he remarked, popping some bread into the toaster.
Though hurt by his comment, Hermione stood her ground as she approached the island between the kitchen and living room. "You know, I truly sympathize for this unborn child already. IT shall enter the world with a cold-hearted bastard like you to look up to. Some role model father you'll be," she countered harshly.
Draco chuckled icily. "Ha! I regret that the child must grow up with a bitch of a mother such as you; I sure wouldn't liked to spend my first eighteen years of life under your supervision," he admitted and turned to the cupboard. "Honestly, it was extremely difficult just spending one night with you," he drawled coolly, as he brought out the butter and spread it over his toast.
That cut Hermione deeply, but never would she let Draco see that. "You're a dirty liar. According to what you just said, the deed was damn good," she opposed.
"All I said was that YOU were pleased, Granger. Nothing was mentioned in regards to myself," Draco truthfully stated. She had lost that one, they both knew it, and Draco turned to take his victory to his room with his toast when Hermione spoke once again.
"Malfoy, if you think for even a moment that being intimate with you would ever satisfy me, you are sadly mistaken. We were both drunk, and that is all there is to it," Hermione stated.
Draco turned back to face her. "That isn't all there is to it. There's a baby involved, Granger," he rudely reminded her.
Hermione sighed angrily. "You know, now that you've screwed me over you can stop calling me by my last name," Hermione merely commented.
"Oh, and you, Miss High and Mighty, can address me by mine?" he contradicted.
"If I wish to honor you with a name at all, yes," Hermione replied.
The first few months were just as they expected, horrible and miserable. They despised being in the other's company, so mostly they avoided one another. The instances were they did interact were brutal and harsh arguments. Lucius noticed the 'strain' the pregnancy was causing on Draco, and sent him to the family psychologist.
That first visit to Dr. Noble's office changed Draco's life, and his views on it. He acquired knowledge that he wouldn't accomplish anything by acting cruel and demeaning toward Hermione, and slowly started to take the doctor's advice. The primary illustration of this was one day when Hermione returned from grocery shopping, her arms full with bags. Draco gruffly cleared his throat and asked, "Need help, Granger?" Hermione had stopped in her tracks and looked up at him with curious eyes. Gaining no response from her, Draco prompted, "Well, do you?" Hermione cracked a small smile and handed him two bags of food. From then on, she looked at him differently, as his helpfulness and consideration for her grew. She came to believe that he actually cared, and if not for her then for their baby. Hermione truly admired his determination to assist her in any way, and a friendship blossomed.
The day that would forever disturb Hermione's mind was a few weeks later. Returning from a monthly visit to the Grangers' for a checkup, Draco followed Hermione up the narrow stairwell to their apartment. A man appeared at the platform above them, and rushed down the stairs quickly, knocking Hermione's small body frame clear off her feet as he passed. Draco instinctively lunged and caught her securely; preventing her from falling down the twenty stairs they had just ascended. Hermione looked to his face, and hesitated before whimpering out a small, "Thanks."
He curtly brushed her appreciation off, and steadied her. But he guided her by the arm up the remaining steps, and carefully let go of her when they neared their door. He fished in the pocket of his robes for his keys, and when he looked up into the still shaken face of Hermione, he gently inquired, "Um...are you alright...H-Hermione?" That marked the first occasion he had ever called her by anything but her surname and Hermione smiled and nodded her head courteously. Followed was a living room confession of his newfound love for her, and she warmly embraced him to show she felt the same. The peculiar start of their romance would forever be embedded in her mind. Of course, the couple had to go shopping for baby things. They went to Hogsmeade one day and headed into "Wally's World for Wobblers." Hermione was looking through racks of nighties when Draco approached her with a small piece of baby clothing held awkwardly in his large hands. "What in bloody hell is this?" He turned it to try to see it differently.
Hermione laughed and grabbed it from him, refolding it. "This is a onesy, Draco." She shook her head and took hold of his hand, leading him toward the shoe department. "Let's look at booties," she simply said. Draco's eyes had widened as he followed her, and Hermione laughed now at the memory.
The months henceforth were nights of dinner and dancing that only confirmed to the couple that they loved one another. Hermione couldn't believe that such a beautiful courtship could've come out of their drunken escapade that fateful night. Her days were pure bliss, and she'd never had a happier moment than when Draco proposed marriage to her, a month before their child's birth.
One of the days during Hermione's last month she had been delivered an owl that told her of acceptance to obtain the Ministry job of Secretary to the newly formed Department for Care of House-Elves. She had applied a few months ago, and was thrilled. She had always liked organizational tasks, and with her marks she got the job easily, but there was another reason she wanted that particular position. As secretary of that department, Hermione's opinions could be voiced and easily taken into consideration with her title of importance. She still hadn't given up fighting for House-elves' rights, and now with Draco's support and financial contributions, in addition to her own, and her high position, she was bound to finally be heard. Hermione constantly smiled inwardly, seeing that Draco had been a great improvement to her life. And then she always scoffed, knowing what she would've said had she thought such a thing a year before. But he was a changed man now. As he had said himself one night, his cold heart had finally been warmed; by affection, by finally being loved.
James Aaron Malfoy was born late February. There had previously been numerous discussions over the matter of the baby's name, Hermione had picked out Isabella for a girl, and Draco didn't disagree; he claimed it was a nice name. Hermione's primary wish was to name it after Draco if it was a boy. The former Slytherin didn't want his child to claim his name, and it took him mentioning that 'Draco' meant dragon for Hermione to let it go. Her next suggestion was 'James', and Draco immediately arose to object. He truly didn't wish for his son to bear the same middle name as the Boy Who Lived, but Hermione argued a great case. She reminded Draco that Harry was the reason she was still alive, having saved her life twice, and that it was important to her to commemorate him in this way. One look in her saddened brown eyes flattened Draco's opposition.
Being that he was born about a month early, there were some complications in the birth, but Draco was right by her side through all of it and Hermione pulled through. Hermione knew that Draco himself was scared shitless, as she could see it in his face, but knowing that she wasn't alone had comforted her.
Their baby had come home at two in the morning, wrapped in a blue bundle of blankets. Draco carried him and his fatigued fiancé up the stairs to their apartment, James held securely in Hermione's arms. Draco gently set her down on their bed once he reached their room, and carefully took his sleeping son from her before settling him down into the bassinet they'd gotten for him. Looking down at James for a few moments, Draco then turned and settled into an easy chair beside their bed. He was softly stroking her hair when she fell asleep, and could tell when she awoke that he'd done so the entire time she'd slept. Hermione smiled genuinely at him, and he reached over and kissed her with a warm "Good morning."
Unfortunately, their heavenly days together would soon come to a close. The seventh day since James's birth delivered the owl that would separate them, though they didn't realize then that it would divide them for years afterward, instead of the mere few weeks Draco promised. Lucius had written:
Draco,
I have been informed of the birth of your son. Consider yourself lucky it isn't a little half-blooded girl that Granger gave birth to.
Your mother and I are still ashamed that you have forever disrupted our pure family tree; however you are still to return home. Residing with the Mudblood has been torture, I'm sure, and don't think the punishment will conclude with your arrival here.
I shall send Bright to pick you up two days from now. You are indeed fortunate to have a compassionate father such as I; firstly allowing you to return to us at all, and secondly giving you forty-eight hours to farewell to your dirty little son. For you will never see him again, I will make sure of that.
Until you return, Lucius
Hermione had read the letter over Draco's shoulder in shock. He must've sensed her tense up for he turned to embrace her. Clinging to him tightly, she whimpered, "You're not going, are you?"
Draco pulled back so he could look at her, his face solemnly set. "Mya, honey, I will return home for a short period of time, to straighten things out. You know I won't abandon you, or James. I shall come back in a week or so. No worries, darling," he promised, and squeezed her shoulders affectionately.
His words comforted her slightly, but on the day of his departure Hermione's composure fell apart and she broke down. They stood near the door and she sobbed into his shirt, and he held her close, and Hermione could tell he was struggling to keep a straight face, as not to cry also. Draco must've felt just as she did; Hermione had this nightmare thought in the back of her mind that kept nagging her; that something would happen during his trip home, something to ruin his chances of returning to her, and that was why she cried. But he seemingly pushed it aside to console his love. "Shh," he rocked her gently. "Shh baby, don't cry. I'll be back." He kissed the top of her head and pulled back, and Hermione stole a kiss to his lips.
Draco smiled weakly, and Hermione confessed, "I love you."
"And I love you, Mya. I'll see you soon," he told her, and with one final embrace, he handed her a purple rose, her favorite. He turned to the door, having already said an emotional goodbye to his son, and then Draco was gone.
A month passed without any word from him, and Hermione was worried and upset. There was no way for her to contact him, as she didn't know where Malfoy Manor was, and all owls returned unanswered. Every moment that wasn't spent working at the Ministry or caring for James was used wondering if Draco was alright, and why he hadn't communicated to her yet. The constant stress took a toll on Hermione's health, and she started feeling weaker and weaker each day. But she still held on to the promise Draco had made to her, that he would never abandon her, and routinely spent many hours a day curled up on the living room window seat, watching the street and waiting for any sign of him.
Harry and Ron's visits, as well of that of her parents and coworkers, grew more frequent, as all were concerned about her. Someone would come by everyday to help Hermione out. Usually, and unsurprisingly, it was Harry or Ron that would be the one there to cook or clean, or look after James. The boy became very close to his mother's best friends over his first year of life, naming them Unc'a Ron and Unc'a Harry when he could speak.
A year now was gone, and so was any hope Hermione had still had of Draco coming back to her and their child. The heartbreak and stress helped her into a few anxiety attacks that landed her in the hospital for a few weeks at a time. Her mother would come up to look after James at their home, and Harry was there at her bedside every day; Ron visited her whenever he could, and his line of work rarely allowed for such an occasion. He had been hired to the Ministry as an Auror; Harry had been called back to Hogwarts to take up the positions of Gryffindor Head of House and Deputy Headmaster, along with the Defense against the Dark Arts instructor. Professor Dumbledore had retired and Professor McGonagall had taken over for him; Neville Longbottom had acquired the job of being the new Transfiguration teacher; so he was granted as much time off as he needed. After all, as McGonagall stated, Hermione was the most diligent student she'd seen in all her time teaching, and Harry needed to watch over her. Both friends had shared a laugh at this. But as Hermione's condition grew steadily worse, and she was diagnosed with depression, it was no longer a laughing matter.
She was actually feeling fairly chipper the morning of James's first birthday party, and she was grateful of that for his sake. It wasn't at all as if Hermione had neglected him during her sickness, but James hadn't gotten to spend much "fun time" with his mother the last few months, as she was never really up to it. Hermione couldn't help but smile as she prepared for the party at her parents home in the country. Finally, she felt well enough to do something extravagant for her son, and the well-behaved toddler truly deserved it.
The party was a complete success with James; his brown eyes had widened with glee when he saw the entertainment in store for him. Hermione ruffled his fine blonde hair affectionately and wished him a "Happy Birthday, James," before he smiled back at her, and toddled off to the moon bounce. The guests arrived shortly after; friendly neighbors with small children who played with James, along with some Hogwarts alumni of Hermione's year that of course included Harry and Ron.
Hermione now looked meaningfully over the horizon. The most memorable point of that party had come later on, and Hermione wondered now if she had made the right choice when offered the chance to be loved once again.
After dinner had been served, Ron had taken to amusing the youngsters with his "Magic Show" across the yard, and their parents watched and laughed at the ludicrous acts Ron performed. Hermione was clearing the buffet table when Harry approached her. "How are you feeling, Mione?" he asked.
"Not too bad, surprisingly enough. I'm just glad I pulled myself together for James's birthday," Hermione confessed.
"Yes, you did come together. But not without my help of course," Harry joked, and Hermione laughed whole-heartedly.
"I cannot deny that," she admitted.
"But really, Mione," his tone and expression grew somewhat serious. "I want to really be there for you. I want to help you in every way possible."
"Oh Harry, you already are always here when I need you!" Hermione proclaimed, stacking one platter atop another.
Harry's hand gently took hold of her wrist to stop her. "Hermione, you've had an extremely tough time since...Draco...left," he made an effort to use Malfoy's first name for her, "and Ron and I have done all we can to help, but my assistance can only stretch so far as a friend." He glanced downward at the table before his gaze returned to her curious face. "No one but a sweetheart can heal the damage caused by a lost love. I want to ease your pain, Mione, and I could do so if you'd allow me to be there for you romantically. I have always held love for you, but I think that with your misfortune last year my heart truly went out to you, and it hasn't come back." Harry smiled nervously.
"What if you and I were together, Hermione?" What if I moved in with you, and helped you care for James, and held you until you fell asleep every night? Oh Mione, it's been a dream of mine for a while; every time I see your soft brown curls and those deep, enticing eyes of yours," he touched a hand to her slightly-fallen jaw, and smiled. "Yes, my friendly love has grown and I really adore you. Would you every consider being with me, love? Please tell me the truth, I must know," he begged her.
Hermione recalled as she had politely declined his proposal to court her, as she didn't believe she loved him that way. She was sure to mention that she didn't exactly know the intensity she felt for him, and that was the truth; that she'd been pondering over the issue for years. Now she wondered if her life would've been easier, and happier, had she fell into Harry's arms three years previous.
As one on of her legs dangled freely from the swing, Hermione wondered if the opportunity had not passed. She knew Harry still held a burning flame of love for her, as he frequently told her and gently pleaded with her to come to him, as she'd be better off then she was alone. He was probably right, but Hermione was still unsure. Maybe her life would be less demanding if she had someone to share the burden with. Possibly she would finally take him up on his offer when she went to pick up James at his house, as her son had conveniently spent the night.
Sighing, with a glance at her watch, she knew it was too early to go over. But this what she really wanted? Was she just going to use Harry to pull him out of her depression, or did she genuinely love him? If she couldn't decide before, there was a slim chance she'd be able to now. Still mulling over the issue, she slid off of the swing, and into the house. The balcony was built off of the master bedroom of the house, which Hermione had had painted and completely decorated in lavender. Stepping into her white marble and wooden-trimmed bathroom, Hermione slipped off her robe and hung it on a hook on the wall beside the enormous bathtub. Bending over to run the water, Hermione was partially pleased that her son wasn't around at the moment. She loved James to death, but she hadn't had a moment of peace in a long time, and she was going to live it up. James frequently spent weekends at Harry and Ron's houses, but this was the first time she'd never received a phone call so that James could hear her voice, as he missed her. She smiled; her son was growing up. Peeling off her small top and pajama shorts, Hermione stepped into the comfort of a steaming bath. After adding some bubble bath, she quickly felt herself slipping into her sub-conscious.
Scenes where Harry played her savior played one after another in her mind. Harry had always provided her with needed comfort; a shoulder to cry on, someone to talk to. He had been the only one there for her after Draco left, when everyone else couldn't bear to listen. And, oh, the laughs they had shared together; sniggering victoriously when Snape was shown up, quietly tittering after Ron had fumed and left them to cool off, and roaming the halls of Hogwarts together when Ron wasn't up to it. They had always held a common bond, both coming from Muggle homes. There were some things and customs that just could not be understood by pure-bloods, or even mixed-bloods that came from wizarding families, and Ron therefore never caught on. It was something unavoidable, unfortunately for the redhead, that Harry and Hermione would become closer than she and Ron would. Hermione thought of that now, and smiled, though she herself was curious as to why.
She emerged from the tub a half an hour later, after cleaning herself and washing and conditioning her hair. Released was an aroma of raspberry and crème, a scent Hermione had always loved. Wrapping a baby blue towel around herself, she walked over to the large mirror above her sink and vanity. Picking up her wand, Hermione magiked her hairdryer and brush to style her hair for her; just loose curls that Hermione didn't have the patience to do herself.
As the tools went to work, she rested her chin in her hand and stared at her reflection. Hermione knew that people thought she was beautiful, and she supposed she couldn't totally disagree. She had a pretty face; a petite nose, medium-sized lips that she actually liked, and questioning, gentle brown eyes. Hermione felt that she had a decent body; her breasts weren't very large but they were full, she had a bottom that she believed was the perfect size, not being too large or too flat, and her height was average, having been measured as five feet four inches. She knew she hadn't always looked as pretty, though. Ultimately, she didn't blame bullies for teasing her about her appearance. But if they saw her now, they would bite their tongues for what they'd said, and Hermione smirked at the fact.
As her hair was set and her styling instruments settled down, Hermione left her vanity for the armoire in her room. She chose a slim black track suit, with a simple magenta tee beneath the jacket. When she had dressed she headed downstairs toward her large chrome kitchen. Hermione truly adored her house, and had decorated herself, having a knack for interior design. She was grateful for the high-paying position she had, as she would've had an even tougher time in life without the six-digit salary, struggling to support herself and her son. That was one reason she was glad she'd done as well in school as she did, so that she would never hit poverty. Hermione needed that like a hole in the head atop all her other troubles.
After she'd prepared her strawberry-smoothie breakfast drink that she routinely had every morning, she settled onto a stool at her counter. Over the time it took her to finish the drink, Hermione again thought over the idea of hooking up with Harry. Even if she didn't truly love him romantically, she could use the emotional support his constant presence would ensure. And if she later decided that it wasn't what she wanted, she knew Harry would understand and accept her decision. She would come to him claiming that she was ready to attempt taking their relationship to the next level, but that if she felt it wasn't right then she would need to let go. There wasn't a doubt in Hermione's mind that Harry would probably overlook that, mainly focusing on the fact that she would finally be his. And even if he didn't, he'd still agree to her conditions. After all, Harry reminded her almost every day of how much he loved her, and that he'd do anything to be with her. She smiled, feeling loved at finally being appreciated.
By the time she left her house it was eleven, having killed some time reading {A/n: What a surprise...not!}. Hermione got into her silver XL Benz, and pulled out of her driveway, turning on the radio as she drove onto her street. The DJ announced the title and artist of the next song, and Hermione recognized the band as American. They sang of loneliness that touched Hermione's heart.
'This is my December This is my snow-covered heart This is my December This is me alone
And I'd give it all away, just to have somewhere to go to Give it all away, to have someone to come home to."
Though it wasn't December, Hermione clearly identified with the song. She had felt the same way through the winters of the last four years, and knew what the pained artists spoke of. Hopefully, as she made her way to Harry's house, the end of her loneliness would start today.
It could have, but not in the way Hermione had imagined. She pulled up next to the sidewalk along Harry's street, noticing only one figure walking along the path, a ways down. After she turned off the ignition, she opened her door and got up and out of her car, closing and locking the doors with an electronic device on her keychain. Hermione backed up a bit and turned to start down the sidewalk when she bumped right into the figure, and stumbled back. 'I must have misjudged how far he was from me,' she thought. As she straightened herself up to apologize, she looked into the face of a man she'd thought she'd never see again. Hermione gasped, as before her stood the same platinum-blonde that had deserted her four years earlier. She spoke with a voice slightly above a whisper, "Draco..."
End