Burning Desire
Draco popped into the living room of his parent's manor for the third time that day, brushing off ash on his suit with unnecessary force as his annoyance was reaching a breaking point. He had stopped in once earlier that morning, another time during his lunch break, and now, finally after he had left work. If he knew his mother, and he thought he did, he would have thought that she was avoiding him. He turned around at the sound of a rustling noise in the corner of the room and spotted Walby scrubbing a ridiculously ornate vase with a toothbrush.
"Walby, have you seen my mother?" Draco asked carefully, trying to control his anger from seeping out on the creature. His father would be returning soon enough, Walby needed as much kindness he could get before being subjected to that kind of treatment.
"You're just missing her, sir," Walby squeaked out, his right eye twitching as he looked up from his task.
Draco sighed and slumped onto the couch. "Well, I can wait then," said Draco stubbornly. "Bring me something to eat, will you?"
Walby bowed. "What will the master be having this evening?"
"I don't know, whatever looks good," Draco covered his eyes with his arm. "And thanks!" Draco blurted out quickly before the elf had disappeared, he could almost hear Hermione's voice in his ear chastising him about not showing elves proper respect and dignity and a load of other bollocks he didn't care to remember. Draco snorted to himself at the thought of Hermione's voice replacing his father's in the back of his head. "How ridiculous."
"What's ridiculous?"
Draco jumped slightly at the voice, not because of its presence but because of its owner. He knew without turning who was standing in the doorway of the parlor, yet he knew it would be rude to just ignore her no matter how desperately he wanted to.
Draco stood and faced the doorway, attempting to hide the bitterness in his smile. "Pansy, what an unexpected surprise," he said smoothly.
"I didn't think that I would see you here," Pansy said slowly, leaning casually against the dark oak doorway. Her large, full lips were painted a deep red, and Draco had to remember not to think about how they felt pressed up against his own. Currently, they were curled in a sly smile he knew she wore when she her mind was running on an alternate set of wheels than normal.
"Yes, well the feeling's mutual. Although I must say, it's a bit more unusual to say that to someone when you aren't actually in your own home," Draco said pointedly, placing his hands in his pockets.
"I've been spending quite a bit of time with your mother lately. She misses you," said Pansy.
Draco had to consciously stop himself from rolling his eyes. "And so you're here because..?" he prompted again, beginning to get annoyed by the forced politeness. What he really wanted to do was to tell her to get the hell out of his house, but he had to try and be the bigger person.
"Oh, your mother told me she had some old dresses that I might like. She's set them out for me in her room, I was just stopping by to pick them up when I heard your voice."
"You wouldn't know where my mother is, would you?" Draco asked, perking up at the idea of Pansy's presence actually being useful.
Pansy thought for a moment. "I think she said that she was going into the city to do some shopping and then meeting some friends for dinner."
Draco dropped his head. "Of course."
"Is that genuine disappointment I hear?" Pansy pushed herself off the wall and took several steps towards Draco, who without thinking took a step back. Pansy raised an eyebrow.
"I'm sorry," Draco let out a short, humorless laugh. "It's just…"
Pansy crossed her arms, looking slightly offended. "I know things are different now. I just thought we could both be adults about this and be friends."
Draco nodded. "Friends…right. Maybe."
"Draco, it's been almost six months." Pansy uncrossed her arms slowly and took another step towards him.
Draco stiffened, but this time remained stationary. "You cheated on me with one of my best friends," said Draco bluntly. He could still remember how the scent of that overpriced, pungent cologne had hit him in the face the day he came home from work early (he always cringed at how cliché it all was), and how shocked he had been to see Pansy's black slip alongside a pair of slacks that were definitely not apart of his wardrobe.
Pansy stopped her advance. "I know, I think about it everyday," she pleaded. "Draco, if there's one thing in my life I regret it's how I—"
"Pansy," Draco put up a hand to stop her. "I don't want to hear it," he said, dropping the niceties of the conversation. "It's bad enough that I have to see you in my own house, but don't spout this bullshit to me about being sorry about how you royally fucked things up between us." He paused for a moment before adding. "Twice!"
Pansy winced, and it shot a slight jolt of pleasure down his spine to see her squirm. She opened her mouth to argue, but then seemed to reconsider. "Well, if you ever feel up to talking, you know where to find me," said Pansy quietly, turning to exit the room. "Oh, and say hello to your father for me," she said, placing a hand on the doorway and turning her head slightly. "I expect you'll be seeing him soon enough." And with that she was gone.
Draco threw up his hands, stifling a cry of frustration he knew Pansy would have been able to hear down the hallway. Of all the times to run into his ex, today had to be the day. It couldn't have been at a bar while he was surrounded by beautiful women, it had to be after a night of heavy drinking and a day full of stress that left him looking frazzled and worn (and dare he say paler than usual?). And the remark about his father, did she know more about his release from Azkaban than he did? Or did she just read the same article in the Prophet? He knew there was only one person who could answer these questions, and so he threw himself back down on the couch to continue his vigil.
"Wal—" no sooner had he began to utter the elf's name did he appear, laden with dishes so high that Draco could only see the ends of his pointed ears. Draco had forgotten his request to bring him 'whatever looked good,' which apparently was the entire content of their kitchen.
"Walby," said Draco, helping the elf unload some of the plates onto the coffee table. "I want you to tell me as soon as my mother enters this house, do you understand me? I have something very important I want to discuss with her."
Walby bowed awkwardly, still balancing a carafe on a glass cake stand. "Of course, sirs. Is there anything else Walby can be doing for master Draco?"
"No, that'll be all. Thanks again."
Walby disappeared with a crack, and Draco slumped back onto the overstuffed couch. His appetite had vanished at the sight of Pansy, yet feeling guilty that Walby had brought him so much food, he slowly began to pick at it. He wasn't exactly sure what feelings had been stirred up at the sight of her. He was angry, sure, but there was also the unavoidable and undeniable fact that he was still head over heels—no, he wouldn't let himself even think the thought. The girl had ripped out his heart and fed it to a Blast-Ended Skrewt, how could he still possibly have feelings for her?
Easily, said a voice in the back of his head that was definitely not his own. You're a sucker for girls that are terrible for you. Well, girl singular.
She wasn't terrible…Draco argued internally.
Right, I forgot that cheaters and liars get rewarded in your family. How's that tattoo treating you?
Draco flexed his left forearm reflexively, knowing well what image was marred on his skin for the rest of eternity. He shook his head to try and expel the inner dialogue that was taking place. It was bad enough he had to hear this stuff from Hermione when he got home, let alone when he was by himself.
"God, I'm losing my fucking mind," Draco muttered, taking a long draw from the wine Walby had brought him.
"Aren't we all, sir?" wheezed one of the paintings hanging on the wall.
Draco raised his glass to the general direction the voice came from. "Hear, hear."
"You think I'm crazy," Hermione said bluntly as she sat across from Ginny and Harry at their flat in Diagon Alley. It was the first time she had seen either of them since she and Ron had broken up, and she expected they both felt a little guilty over the whole thing. They had made enough food to feed an army, and it all happened to be her favorite dishes. Currently, they were discussing the topic of her living arrangement with Draco.
Harry raised his hands. "Let it be known, those words never came out of my mouth."
Hermione slumped in her chair. "But you're thinking it! I've known you two too long to not be able to read your expressions."
"Hermione," Ginny said gently. "When we found out you were moving in with Draco, we were a bit…"
"Surprised," said Harry, finishing her sentence.
"Surprised, but it wasn't like it was completely unexpected," said Ginny, standing and beginning to gather up their dishes.
"It wasn't?" Hermione asked.
"Well, to be honest I always thought that you two would end up…you know," said Ginny before she entered the kitchen.
"What about your brother?" asked Hermione incredulously.
Ginny reentered the dining room with three cups of tea hovering in front of her. "Oh, Hermione haven't you learned by now that Ron is a complete idiot? If he can't find a way to screw something great up then he wouldn't be himself."
Harry took a cup for himself and handed one to Hermione. "He's my best mate, but breaking up with you…that was about as stupid as when he left us in the middle of our hunt for horcruxes."
Ginny nodded emphatically. "Ron doesn't have the best track record for making intelligent decisions."
Hermione gripped her teacup without taking a sip, her insides twisting uncomfortably over the conversation about her ex. "Ron's stupidity aside, I've still got to find a new place to live. I'm sure you've heard, Lucius is being released from Azkaban in a couple weeks and I've got to get out of there before he gets wind that Draco's living with a mudblood," said Hermione with distaste.
"You weren't trying to find another place anyway?" Ginny asked.
"Oh, no I was," replied Hermione, slightly flustered. The question caught her off guard, all along the plan had been for her to stay with Draco until she found someplace else to live, but now she realized that Lucius' release was the driving force behind her search, not her own personal desire to be on her own. "It's just that…well having Draco as a roommate is easier than I thought it would be," she admitted. "I think I was just starting to get too comfortable."
"By the way," said Harry, cutting in before Ginny had time to respond. "Has Draco said anything about Lucius' release? They aren't letting much slip at the Ministry about it, even to me!" said Harry, clearly annoyed by the fact that his status as the 'boy-who-killed-Voldmort' didn't grant him access to this privileged information.
"Actually, I was hoping you'd have something to share. Draco found out along with the rest of the world through the Prophet."
"What? He didn't know?" asked Ginny, shocked.
Hermione shook her head. "His own mother didn't even tell him, I'd expect he's with her right now finding out why."
"Such a highly functional family…" Harry muttered.
"Right, well Hermione you know you can always stay here with us," said Ginny. "For as long as you need. Frankly I'm surprised you didn't stay with us in the first place."
"Thanks, Ginny. I just…I was worried that since you and Harry see so much of Ron that it might be a little awkward."
"Listen, nothing my brother does would come between our friendship with you."
"That's right," seconded Harry.
"Thanks, truly I appreciate it. It's just that—"
"Hello, anyone home?" A voice hollered from the entranceway. "I've brought some wine, I thought you guys might fancy a drink…" Ron's voice trailed off as he entered the dining room, seeing everyone who was seated around the table. "Oh, hey guys," he said, his voice cracking as it often did when he found himself in an unpleasant situation.
Hermione sucked in air as her heart started racing as though she had just finished a marathon. It was the first time she had seen him since she had moved out, and seeing him unexpected like this when she wasn't prepared…well it was doing a number on her. The teacup she had gripped between her hands felt slick from the sudden sweat they were producing. She offered him a tight smile, but he was avoiding her eyes as if she were a basilisk.
"Ron!" Ginny stood up quickly. "What on earth are you doing here, I thought I told you we were having dinner with Hermione tonight."
"Oh, was that tonight? I could've swore you said it was tomorrow," said Ron, shifting his weight. He glanced towards the door so quickly it almost looked like a twitch.
"It's fine, I need to get going anyway," Hermione said, standing up and smoothing out her skirt, wanting to escape the apartment as quick as humanly possible. She knew she would have to get used to being around Ron if she was going to continue being friends with Ginny and Harry, but that didn't have to start tonight.
"No, don't leave on account my idiot brother!" Ginny said, ushering her to sit down.
"No, really I must get going. It was lovely seeing you two, dinner was delicious," and as Hermione turned to grab her cloak, and while everyone was standing in a flurry of nerves and tension, a tall, long haired brunette woman walked into the room and stopped next to Ron.
"Hello, I thought for a moment I was in the wrong apartment," said a woman with an American accent, her laughter revealing how unaware she was of the current awkwardness of the situation. "I'm Abigail, by the way," she said after a moment. "You three must be Harry, Ginny, and Hermione, right?"
All four of them stood in silence. Hermione soaked in the woman's appearance with wide eyes (high cheek bones, silky straight hair, straight nose) before coming back to her senses and extending her hand. "Yes, I'm Hermione." She didn't want to be rude, there was no reason to assume that this woman was more than just a friend…although she had never heard Ron mention an Abigail before.
"Hermione, it's so great to finally meet you," said Abigail, taking her hand. "I've heard so much about you."
"Have you?" Hermione asked, she could hear her voice involuntarily turning to ice.
"Yeah, Ron hasn't shut up about the three of you actually," laughed Abby, putting a hand on Ron's back.
Hermione clenched her jaw, she had a feeling she knew where this was heading and she wasn't sure if she wanted to be around to find out if she was right. And she could tell by the way that Ron's ears were turning a shockingly bright shade of red that he didn't want her to be here either.
"Well, I wish I could stay longer but I'm just on my way out," Hermione said gathering her things as quickly as she could while trying to conceal her shaking hands.
"Oh, stay at least for at least one drink!" said Abby, and as she spoke her hand slipped from Ron's back into the hand that was hanging at his side. She watched as Abby gripped it as casually as though she had done it a hundred times before.
"No, I must get going," Hermione said in a rush, more determined than she had ever been to leave a room. She glanced briefly at Harry and Ginny; Ginny was staring at her brother as if she had never seen him before, and Harry looked just as uncomfortable as Ron. "Thanks again, I'll send an owl later. It was nice meeting you," said Hermione as she ducked past Abby and Ron, and had disapparated before she could hear their salutations.
Hermione entered her apartment at a near sprint and slammed the door behind her, leaning back against the door so hard she almost smacked her head against the wood. She heaved a sigh somewhere between a sob and a groan and stood there for several minutes with her eyes closed. She had done work on herself the past couple weeks to actively try and forget the way Ron smelled, and how snug she felt with his broad shoulders felt firmly wrapped around her. But now all that came crashing back, along with the added weight of the truth she had been too ignorant to realize before that moment.
He had left her for another woman. An American woman. Which meant that he had met her abroad at some point. Hermione let out another audible moan, how long had he been cheating on her? They had been dating officially for the past four years, with him traveling abroad the past two. But who knows, maybe they had met before then, in London. The idea of their relationship being a complete lie for that long made her feel ill. The fact that she had wasted so much of her time on him…
Hermione began to cry quietly to herself, and soon fell into loud uninhibited sobs. In the back of her mind she thought vaguely about how she hoped Draco wasn't home, but at that moment she didn't really care. She walked blindly into her room and tossed herself somewhat dramatically on her bed, in the same fashion she had seen teenagers on television do when their boyfriends broke up with them. It felt ridiculous to her that she should still be able to feel pain like this, hadn't she already grieved enough over their relationship? Four years of dating proceeded by ten years of friendship she had given this man, and he had the gall to cheat on her, and then bring the stupid woman over around her?
Hermione pushed herself off her bed furiously, her eyes still dripping with tears as she rummaged through some of her half unpacked boxes, until she found what she was looking for. She pulled out a particularly knobbly and uneven wooden box, one that had been handmade by Ron and given to her on their one year anniversary. In is she had filled small keepsakes from throughout their relationship, letters, pictures, stubs from different Quidditch games and the like. Her eyes narrowed as she stared at the etching on the lid, Forever and Always, Love Ron.
"I have a plan for you, my little friend."
"Hermione?" Draco shouted as he entered through their apartment through the front door, something he normally wasn't accustomed to since he frequently traveled via the Floo network., but for some reason it was blocked. He ran into the living room, bursting to relay the conversation he just had with his mother. "Do you know why our fireplace isn't…oh." Draco cut himself off as his question was answered almost immediately. "It's a bit warm outside to be lighting a fire, don't you think?"
He walked up to Hermione who was sitting cross-legged on the floor with different pictures and pieces of paper scattered in front of her. What was more unusual was that she had an open bottle of wine in front of her with no glass to be seen.
"All the glasses dirty, then?" Draco asked, sitting down next to her and taking a swig from the bottle. Draco gave the silent Hermione a closer look. Her eyes were puffy and swollen as if she had a bad cold, or more likely, had been crying. He picked up the closest photograph in front of him and saw that it was a picture of her and Ron in front of the Eiffel Tower. Looking around, seeing the rest of the Ron related paraphernalia, the fire suddenly made sense.
"Rough day?" Draco asked gently, the thoughts about his family being overtaken by how pathetic Hermione looked.
"Ron left me for another woman," slurred Hermione, but still quite manner of fact.
"Did he now?" asked Draco, surprised not because he had left Hermione, but because the git was actually able to land another woman. He had thought for all these years Hermione was the only one stupid enough to date the idiot. "You're positive?"
"He brought her over to Harry and Ginny's while I was there for dinner. He didn't realize I'd be there though," she chuckled to herself. "So it was quite a little surprise."
"And you're sure they're together?"
Hermione turned to look at him for the first time, her eyes giving him an exaggerated please look. "She was holding his hand, and she told us, and I quote, that 'Ron hasn't shut up about us.'"
"Okay…" said Draco slowly, knowing that he should choose his next words carefully. "But maybe they just met."
"She's American, Draco!" Hermione nearly shouted, throwing her hands in the air as if that was all the explanation there needed to be.
Draco mimicked her gesture. "So?"
"So?" Hermione looked at him as though he had lost his mind. "Obviously they met when he was abroad at some point, a while ago, while we were dating."
"Hermione," said Draco, handing her the nearly empty bottle of wine. "Just because she's foreign doesn't mean he couldn't have met her in London. Maybe she's working here, or studying. Maybe she's even on vacation—" Draco faltered under the look that Hermione was giving him.
"Are you actually defending him?" asked Hermione with so much disgust in her voice he had to contain a laugh.
"Of course not!" said Draco, repulsed by the very idea. "I mean let's be honest, he probably did cheat on you. I'm just saying that you should probably get all the facts before you do something rash."
"Like burning all of the remains from our relationship?" She asked, gingerly picking up a worn letter.
"Actually, I think this is a great idea, I've been wanting to do this myself for ages," said Draco, picking up the Paris photograph. "May I?"
Hermione gave him a watery smile. "Be my guest."
Draco and Hermione spent the next couple hours happily pouring over their favorite Ron-bashing stories, a pastime Draco had previously not been able to engage actively in with Hermione. He helped her finish another bottle of wine, and it wasn't until Hermione dumped a full glass of Cabernet Sauvignon on his work slacks that he decided to help her into bed.
"You didn't have to do this," Hermione said, stopping and leaning against her doorframe for support.
Draco kept his smile small, she was in a sensitive state and he didn't want her thinking he was making fun of her. It was just that he so rarely got to see her true emotions he had to relish in it, and seeing her hammered like this was quite frankly hilarious. "Do what?"
"Take care of me," she said softly.
"What are roommates for if not to help burn all the memories of their former lovers in a fireplace?" Draco asked, chuckling to himself.
Hermione laughed, but the sound was quickly cut off. Draco dropped his head slightly to look into her eyes that were beginning to fill with tears.
"Why doesn't he love me?" she asked thickly, finally lifting her head to meet Draco's eyes. There was a tone of desperation in her voice that Draco had never heard before; it made his heart ache.
Draco couldn't bring himself to answer but instead he pulled her into a tight embrace, trying his best to soothe her crying. He made up his mind, he was going to give Ron a piece of his mind the next time he saw him…he'd have to decide later if his wand was going to help.
a/n-Wow, it's been a while since my last update. Hopefully all of those who read this story when it first hatched are still out there, if not hopefully there are some new readers out there :) I humbly implore you to review (you know how much we authors like to revel in them) and as always, constructive criticism is most welcome. Oh, and just a quick note, the last line Hermione delivers is from Almost Famous...so think Kate Hudson when you read it.