House: Gryffindor
Position: HoH
Category: Bonus
Theme: Forbidden love - A positive love connection that is frowned upon or has been forbidden by one or more people/parties
Color: Glaucous
Prompt: [Sound] Raindrops on the glass
Word Count (excluding header and AN): 1524
Beta: Tigger
AN: According to wikipedia, glaucous is both of bluish-grey color and an adjective used to describe the natural waxy coating that develops on fruits like plums and grapes. Black Hamburg and Muscat Hamburg were the only species of grapes that I could find that were the appropriate color and could be grown in greenhouses.
Draco was surprised when he heard the greenhouse door open. The sound of the torrential downpour outside had been dulled to a soft steady thrum against the glass building. But with the door open, he could hear the roar of the storm.
He hadn't anticipated anyone intruding on his work today.
His mother had said she'd be spending the day planning a charity ball to benefit the war orphans. Since reuniting with her estranged sister, Andromeda, his mother had taken a special interest in the plight of the poor children whose families had been decimated. Her generous donations and hours of volunteer work had gone far in redeeming herself in the eyes of wizarding society.
Draco, however, remained a persona non grata. Despite the numerous and sincere apologies he'd made to the people he'd wronged, he doubted that would change anytime soon. Thankfully, he had his burgeoning career to occupy his time.
Draco had always been rather gifted at Potions, despite many believing that his excellent marks were a form of nepotism from his godfather, Severus Snape. Regardless of what most of his peers thought, Draco simply had an intuitive sense when it came to Potions.
What was less well known was that Draco was somewhat of a prodigy when it came to Herbology. The only students who could compete with him were Neville Longbottom and Hermione Granger - the witless wonder and the insufferable know-it-all.
Draco carefully spliced a Muscat Hamburg cutting into a sample of Black Hamburg. He hoped that the hybrid would thrive and produce succulent dark, bluish-grey grapes.
'Glaucous,' he heard the insufferable know-it-all's voice in his head. 'The proper term is glaucous. The bluish-grey waxy coating creates a waterproof barrier on matured grapes.'
He smiled. She truly was a know-it-all.
While the majority of wizarding society shunned him, one person who had accepted his apology was Hermione Granger.
Over the course of the war, he'd come to realize that his so-called blood purity didn't automatically make him superior to anyone. The "dirtiness" of a Muggleborn's blood didn't make that person inferior. He knew now that everyone should be judged on their own merits rather than their heritage. He'd been so wrong.
It humbled him that Hermione had accepted his apology. He'd been the most vile to her - at some points actually wishing her dead - but she was willing to move on from that. It further cemented Draco's new view that actions and abilities were what mattered, not pedigree.
Over the past few years, he and Hermione had become friends. She often visited him in his greenhouses and they'd work for hours, side by side. They'd joke and tease, laugh and snipe. She helped him build his wine company and even joined as a silent partner. He didn't know where he'd be without her.
Because, at some point, he'd fallen in love with her. Not that he'd ever told her, even though he knew that her feelings towards him had deepened as well. It was only a matter of time before he made his intentions clear.
He heard the latch of greenhouse door click closed. The sound of the rain was once again reduced to the steady drum beat of drops against the glass roof.
"Hello?" he called. "Who's there?" He scanned for his wand, ready to take up a defensive position if needed. It wouldn't be the first time someone had come after him since the war ended.
"It's me!" Hermione yelled. "Where are you?"
Draco broke into a smile. "I'm around by the splicing table."
He took the moments before she rounded the corner to cast a quick Scourgify on his clothing. She'd seen him covered in dirt hundreds of times, but he always wanted to look presentable upon her initial inspection.
"Your mother said you were out here. I thought you'd be helping her out with the charity ball arrangements."
"You know she'd have only gotten frustrated with my efforts and thrown me out of the room. It was more efficient to just come out here and get some work done."
Hermione laughed and shook her head. Droplets of rain escaped from her chaotic mop of hair. She reached up to ring out her hair when Draco stopped her.
"What is that?" he asked without breathing.
She froze.
"What is that?" he asked again while taking a step towards her. He yanked her hand towards him.
There, on her finger, sat a modest diamond ring. The light refracted off the precious stone casting glittering light over the glaucous grapes. He would have found the rich shimmering blue-grey colors beautiful if his vision wasn't clouding over.
"Ron proposed," she whispered. "We're getting married."
He dropped her hand as though it had burned him. He stepped back until the walls of the greenhouse prevented further retreat. The rain pinged down against the glass, the soft sound almost deafening to him.
"Draco," Hermione said softly as walked towards him. "I wanted you to hear it from me before it hits the papers."
"Why?" he whispered. He stared into her soft, sympathetic eyes and found he couldn't tolerate the pity he saw. Hardening his own eyes, he spat, "Why? Why would you bother to come tell me? Shouldn't you be out celebrating with Weaslebee? Huh?"
"I know," Hermione began. "I know that you feel something for me. I thought that it would be kinder for me to tell you personally than have you blindsided by tomorrow's Prophet."
"Yes," he sneered, "how kind."
"Draco," she said. "I'm trying to do what's right—"
He cut her off. "What's right? What a laugh."
"Ron's my friend," she continued. "Harry and Ginny are married and have a child on the way. Everyone's been dropping hints about when Ron and I would tie the knot. It just makes sense."
"Makes sense?!" Draco exclaimed.
"It does make sense," she defended. "Everyone expects Ron and I to get married."
"So you're just going to throw your life away because that's what everyone expects?" Draco let out a dark laugh.
"I wouldn't be throwing my life away! I care for Ron and—"
"Do you love him?" Draco demanded. He dreaded her answer.
"I care deeply for him," Hermione deflected.
"I'll take that as a no."
"I can learn to love him," Hermione claimed.
"Don't," Draco whispered so quietly that he couldn't be heard over the sound of the rain against the glass behind him.
"Draco?"
"Love me," he said.
"What?"
"Love me, Hermione," he whispered while pushing himself off of the wall. "Marry me."
"Draco," she said, backing away, "You don't know what you're saying."
He gripped her shoulders to prevent her from fleeing. "I know exactly what I'm saying. I'm in love with you, Hermione Granger. You have to know that. Be with me. Love me."
"I can't. I don't." She deliberately looked anywhere but at him.
Draco firmly cupped her jaw and forced her eyes up to his. "Can't or don't? Which is it?"
Hermione snapped, "It's the same. You and I could never be."
"Why not?"
"No one would accept us, Draco," she reasoned. "Everyone expects Ron and I to wind up together."
"Hang everyone else!" he declared as his lips descended onto hers.
He felt her freeze in his embrace and a jolt of panic pierced his soul. Just as he was about to pull away, Hermione softened and began to return the kiss.
Draco spun them around and pressed Hermione against the glass wall. She moaned upon impact and that broke the spell.
Hermione shoved Draco away. "I can't," she whispered as tears began to stream down her face. "We can't."
"I never took you for a coward," Draco said.
"I'm not!" she declared. "I'm doing the right thing!"
"You're lying, Hermione. You're lying to everyone, including yourself. How can you possibly think that's the right thing to do?!"
"You and I can never be together. It doesn't matter that you love me. It doesn't matter that I love you—"
"—So you do love me."
"I will be happy with Ron," she said, as if trying to convince herself. "You'll meet someone else. You and I will remain friends. Anything else is just impossible."
"Nothing is impossible."
"This is. I can't, Draco," she said. "I'm so sorry."
She turned and fled the greenhouse, leaving Draco alone.
He let out an agonized scream and a burst of uncontrollable, wandless magic. The roof of the greenhouse shattered. Shards of glass rained down. He barely felt the glass slice into his skin. It was minor compared to the invisible shard that had impaled his heart.
The storm poured into the greenhouse. Violent raindrops splashed down, mixing with the blood leaking from his wounds. The tears that streamed down his face were indistinguishable from the rain.
He stared at the grapes that represented all the hard work that he and Hermione had done together. The bluish-grey grapes that had been pierced with glass would die off, but new green buds would take their place. The water would simply roll off the plant without causing harm.
Unlike the grapes with their glaucous coating, he had no protection from the deluge.