Authors Note: Here it is people; I hope it meets expectations. Thanks to my wonderful beta and those of you who have reviewed so far. One more thing; I'm not sure whether to write the next chapter from Draco's or Hermione's point of view – what do you think?
Chapter Three
The sight of Betty and Val, her elderly and extremely curious neighbours, made Hermione groan as she walked up the street towards her cottage. The two women stood chatting outside Val's house, each throwing inquisitive glances at the locked door of their young neighbour's home.
Hermione paused beneath the sheltering branches of a large oak and hitched her heavy bag further up her arm. She was still quite a distance from the house, and so could not be seen by the two women. She had half a mind to retrace her steps and leave them to their wonderings, but knew that this would solve nothing in the long run, and so with a resigned sigh, moved forward into their line of vision.
"Ah, Hermione. We were just wondering were you were." Val smiled, turning to her. She was a small, plump, round-faced woman in her late sixties, possessing dark twinkling eyes that seemed to miss nothing as they raked over Hermione's denim-clad figure. "Have you been out shopping?"
"Yes. I thought I'd make the most of the fine weather and walk."
"Good idea," Betty, her other neighbour enthused. "I always say there's nothing like a good walk to blow away the cobwebs." Tall and thin, she reminded Hermione of a sharp-eyed bird of prey, her features prominent in a weather-beaten face, although her eyes held a kindly expression.
"So," Val began, leaning her large bulk on Hermione's front gate, which creaked in protest, "is it true then?"
"Is what true?" Hermione asked in a bland voice, putting her bag down on her front path and straightening.
"Oh, come now, Hermione, I heard it from Sarah Tigs, who heard it from Annie Whetherbey, who had it firsthand from little Brian Linton. It's all over the village."
Hermione felt her heart sink a bit further at this news. "Well, if you know all about it, then there's surely no need to ask me about it," she replied dryly, while hunting in her handbag for her keys.
"Oh, yes there is," Betty responded. "What we want to know is why you broke it off? I mean, Ben is such a good catch!"
"You're telling me," Val chimed in, her expression dreamy. "Those huge dark eyes feel as though you're drowning in them. That's not to mention the money; he owns the Larches for heaven's sake. If I were forty years younger, I'd not say no to a handsome gentlemen like him!"
"Val, you know as well as I do that there's a lot more to a successful relationship than money or looks. We weren't on the same wavelength so to speak." Hermione replied in a deliberately light voice while her heart gave a twinge of regret. Locating her keys, she jangled them in the air but the two women ignored her hint.
"It didn't seem like that to me; last I saw you were getting along like a house on fire. What happened?" Betty asked in a gentle voice.
Hermione stifled a sigh; a week ago she would have agreed with Betty, but that was before Draco Malfoy had entered the scene, in the figurative rather than the literal sense of the word. He had spent most of his time in their nightly conversations badgering her to break it off with Ben and reminding her in vivid detail of the consequences if she didn't. She had finally done as he asked, not to please him, but to protect her own heart and privacy. She was only too aware that allowing Ben to get close to her was jeopardising the Fidelius charm, not to mention her emotional stability.
"Well, things change," she said in a flat voice, "I realised that we didn't have as much in common as I had first thought."
"Things have changed mighty quickly in that case," Betty commented, eyebrows raised. "Did you quarrel?"
Were they ever going to give up? Hermione was fond of her neighbours, both of whom were well–meaning, but this was a bit much. "No, not as such. I just realised that we weren't right together and so called things to a halt before they went too far." She hoped this would satisfy them.
The two older women exchanged looks. "From what Fred was saying, Ben's taken it rather badly," Val informed her.
Fred was the gardener who worked at the Larches, an old Tudor-style house set on a hillock at the end of the village owned by Ben's family. The now stooped gardener was old and half deaf; Hermione doubted that he had noticed any such thing.
"Yes, poor Ben's really down in the dumps, and who can blame him! Why, I saw him only yesterday evening walking through the park. He looked as though the world had ended for him. Hermione, won't you give it another try? You're so well matched!"
"Val, I know you mean well but there's no point. It's better we go our separate ways now, rather than later on when the hurt'll be greater." Hermione was aware she sounded callous, but knew instinctively that if she hadn't broken things off, her chances of being discovered would increase ten fold, not counting her emotional well-being.
"Young people these days, you think with your heads. What good is that?" Betty sighed. "I still say you should give the relationship a chance before throwing it all away. You may live to regret it you know."
"She's right, Hermione. What you need is some time alone together in a neutral setting to sit down and talk things through. Tell you what, why don't I invite Ben to my house and –"
"No, Val! There's no point." Hermione could feel exasperation getting the better of her and took a deep breath to bring it under control. It would never do to antagonise her neighbours, both of whom had been a source of comfort and help to her since she had moved to the small village. "Look, what's done is done. Trust me it's for the best. Ben and I want very different things from life. For example, he's a firm believer that a woman should stay at home with the children while they're growing up, but I'd go mad if I had to do that. I want a career as well. It's fundamental things like that we can't agree on, so what chance is there for us?"
There was a pause while the two women digested her words. Then, shaking her head, Betty sighed. "So it was getting serious between you then. That makes it even more of a shame."
"Let's put it this way; we'd been discussing the matter for a while and couldn't agree on a compromise. Look, I'd better go in and unpack my shopping or else the ice cream will have melted." Hermione bent and picked up her bag again.
"But if you care enough for each other, you can make it work," Betty insisted. "You've known him since you moved into the village and we were all so pleased when you finally agreed to walk out with him."
Hermione smiled at the quaintness of her neighbour's phraseology. It was true that there had been unanimous approval from the village's inhabitants when she and Ben had started dating.
All had thought that it was a good match, and she had overheard more than one person speculating about the length of time they would wait before calling the bands.
"As I said, I don't think we're suited."
"You know, he's besotted with you; he always has been. He won't give up lightly." Val put in knowingly.
Privately, Hermione agreed with her but shook her head. "I doubt it. We've agreed to go our separate ways; it's for the best. Anyway, it's been lovely chatting to you; I'd better get this lot unpacked and then start on the housework."
To groans of disappointment from the older women, she unlocked her front door, and with one last wave, shut it behind her.
As she unpacked her shopping, she mulled over Val's words. Ben had not taken the break up very well, refusing to accept her excuse that they were not suited, not that she blamed him for that. She knew in her heart of hearts that if things had been different, she would have been more than happy to settle down with him. He was quiet, shared similar interests to her, and undemanding - the antithesis of the man to whom she was irrevocably tied.
She bit her lip, wiping away the tears that had sprung to her eyes. No one, not even Megan, knew how difficult it had been to break things off, to end the relationship that had afforded her so much pleasure, and which, if it had been given the chance to grow and blossom, could have been so much more.
She admitted to herself that she wasn't in love with Ben, but if things had carried on between them, it wouldn't have been long until she was hooked and where would that have got her? No, Draco Malfoy's grumblings aside, she had done the right thing. Now all she had to do was convince her heart and the rest of the village of that fact.
XoXoXoXo
"Well, have you?" Draco's question was abrupt and Hermione shrugged, settling herself more comfortably on her living room sofa.
"Have I what?" she replied lightly, flicking through the latest John Lewis catalogue without much interest.
"Damn it, Hermione, you said that you'd end it with him! You promised!" His voice was abrupt, making her wince.
"Oh? If memory serves me correctly, I said that I suppose I'd end it at some point. It's not as though it can go anywhere, thanks to you."
He sighed. Then changing tack, said, "Hermione, please. I'm imploring you. If you have any regard for his feelings let alone anyone else's, you'll end it with him. After all, it's not fair to string the poor man along like that, knowing all the time that you can't give him what he wants."
She scowled; trust him to start playing mind games like this. He couldn't care less about Ben's feelings on the matter. Well, she would let him suffer for a bit longer. "What do you care how he's feeling? All you care about is yourself. Anyway, I'm not doing anyone any harm, so what's the problem?"
"The problem is that you're disregarding the sanctity of our marriage vows, our commitment to each other, and my feelings on the matter," he argued.
"Hmm," she smiled mirthlessly. "Well now, let's think. I've lost count of the number of times over the years that you 'disregarded' our marriage vows, when getting up to heaven knows what with other women."
"Ah, but you know as well as I do that there was a good reason for that. If you had been there like a wife should be, there would have been no need for me to look elsewhere. Anyway, I never slept with any of them, so what's the problem?" he retorted heatedly, unconsciously mimicking her earlier words.
She let out a splutter of indignation which she wasn't sure he heard. "You're the limit, Malfoy. So it was my fault that you couldn't keep your lust in check now was it? Well, I don't mind in the least what you do with yourself, so kindly keep out of matters that don't concern you."
"Not concern me? Some interloper is seeing my wife behind my back and that shouldn't concern me? I might remind you that we're married and that-"
Swiftly, she cut him off; he was starting one of his rants again, something he'd been doing all week. Anyway, she was growing tired of the whole conversation and decided to terminate it as soon as she could. "For your information, I've ended it with him. Not because you wanted me to do so, but because I didn't want to get even more hurt than I am at present." She knew she sounded needlessly cruel but she couldn't help it. Draco always seemed to bring out the worst in her, coupled with the fact that she was missing Ben.
"You've broken it off with him? You're sure?"
"Yes, Malfoy, I'm as sure as I can be, so stop going on about it." Hermione tried to keep the bitterness from her voice but it was difficult.
"I'm sorry it was so painful for you," he responded, voice guarded. "I can't pretend not to be relieved though."
"No, I suppose not."
There was a pause. Then he drawled in a casual voice, "You must be pleased about Potter's brat."
"What?" She gasped out, diverted from her gloomy thoughts. "Harry's got a child?" Even as she asked the question, she realised that she should not have done so. She couldn't afford to give way to her curiosity like this.
"Oh, didn't you know? He and the Weasley girl got married soon after the end of the war. Now they have a boy. The perfect family, you may say."
If she hadn't been so taken aback by this news, she may have noticed the bitter note in his voice as he spat out the last few words.
"I'm surprised," he continued relentlessly, "I would have thought that you'd know what was happening in your friends' lives even though you were not a part of them. Clearly I was wrong."
"Well…." She hesitated, unsure what to say next. How could she tell him that she had deliberately distanced herself from everyone in the Wizarding world, so as to minimise any temptation to go back. It had been difficult but she had made Quentin promise soon after she had moved into her cottage, never to tell her of anything that was going on in the world she had left behind, unless it had a direct impact on her safety. The only pieces of news Quentin had imparted to her were the deaths of Voldemort and Dumbledore a few years ago. She had been glad about the former, but had sighed when she had heard about Dumbledore, part of her wishing that they had been able to make their peace before his death.
"Well?" he broke into her thoughts, and she started.
"I'm not particularly interested in what the inhabitants of the wizarding world get up to. I no longer belong to it, so the going ons there don't interest me." She knew she sounded cold and dismissive, and hoped he'd leave the subject alone but should have known better.
"Ouch, that's not very nice. There was a time when you were determined to prove that you belong to it as much as those of us who were born into it," he drawled.
"I've changed my mind. I've made a place for myself in the world I live in now thanks and am perfectly happy with it."
"You may be, but those of us you left behind certainly aren't!" His voice had taken on a sharper tone, and she groaned inwardly.
"You know, it's amazing really how the Weasley twins have become such big international players," he continued lightly.
The casual remark startled her. "What?"
"Didn't you know? They've got shops in Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade, Paris, Berlin, Rome, and other European cities. That's not to mention their outlets in New York and Dubai. Last I heard, they were planning to open up in Sydney as well. Zonko's just couldn't keep up."
Hermione's eyes were wide with interest, her earlier resolution of not asking about her old friends forgotten. "Wow, they have done well for themselves. Mr and Mrs Weasley must be proud of them."
"Oh, they are. The twins paid for extensive renovations to the family home last summer. From all accounts, it's a haven of luxury now. Nothing on Malfoy Manor of course, but as homes go, it's supposed to be the latest design." His voice was conversational, holding no hint of the anger that had been there moments ago.
Hermione smiled to herself, imagining the Burrow transformed into a compact palace. Mr and Mrs Weasley would be delighted. "They deserve it. They scrimped and saved to bring the children up. It's high time they enjoyed a bit of luxury."
"Well, their children can easily afford to keep them in style." His voice was bland and she wondered what he was thinking.
"And Ron? What of him?" The question was out before she could stop it, and she silently berated herself for letting her interest get the better of her like this. It would get her nowhere.
"Oh, he's a Chess Master now, one of the best in the country."
"A Chess Master?" She gave up all pretence of disinterest and sat eyes wide with incredulity as she listened to him.
"Yes, he represented Britain in the World Chess Championships two years ago." Draco sounded almost bored, as though this was old news and of no consequence.
"Blimey, this is a lot to take in." She could just imagine Ron, head bent in concentration, crouched over a chessboard, oblivious of his audience, his mind focused entirely on the game before him. He had been a formidable chess player during their school years, beating her and Harry without any effort at all. She knew that he was a superb strategist, and could easily imagine him playing chess for a career. She felt a pang at not having seen him during the World Championships and wondered if he had missed her.
"How did he do in the World Championships?" she asked now, a lump in her throat.
"He came runner up, was beaten by the wizard from Tunisia."
"Oh, no. He would have hated that."
Draco laughed. "He wasn't pleased."
"How about Harry, what does he do?" Hermione's question was tentative but she had to know. It seemed that her curiosity which had been held in check for so many years had finally overcome its restraints.
"He and the Weasley girl are Aurors. She had to give it up when they started a family, but no doubt she'll take it up again once the baby's a bit older." Draco's response was dry and she could imagine his frown of disapproval at the thought of a woman with a young family working.
There was a pause as all the information he had given her whirled round in her head. Then, unable to stop the question, she asked, "How about your family? What of them?"
"Father had to take early retirement from Malfoy Enterprises, and now he and Mother spend most of their time travelling around and enjoying life. I run the company."
So, Lucius Malfoy was alive, she scowled at the thought. If anyone had deserved to die, it was him. She imagined his pale pointed face, the eyes cold as he looked down his bony nose at her. It was a shame that he wasn't in Azkaban; the man must have committed enough war crimes to span several life sentences.
"I see," she replied coolly. She would like to have asked how he'd wriggled out of being convicted for his allegiance to Voldemort but stopped herself.
"There's no need to sound quite so enthusiastic," came the amused rejoinder.
"Oh, don't worry, I'm not!" Then in a shaky voice she continued, "I've got to go now, I'm rather tired."
"Of course." His voice was understanding, but held a note of smugness. "Shall I pass on your good wishes to Potter and the Weasley girl?"
"Er…" she hesitated. What was she supposed to say to that? If she agreed and he passed on her message, the hunt for her by her friends would probably start again and she wasn't sure she could bear that. On the other hand, refusing would seem churlish and mean to say the least. "Yes, please pass on my congratulations on the birth of their baby," she said finally, while wondering if she had made the right decision.
"Will do. Good night, I'll speak to you tomorrow." There was a note of satisfaction in his voice which she didn't miss.
She didn't respond, and after a moment knew that he had broken the connection between them.
She sat staring at the catalogue clutched in her hand, her mind churning with images. Harry and Ginny were parents; she couldn't imagine it. She wondered what their baby looked like, if he'd inherited Ginny's red hair or Harry's untidy black mop. A feeling of intense longing for the world she had left engulfed her, bringing tears to her eyes. For the first time in years, she wondered if there was a way of seeing them all again, of catching up with her old friends and seeing Harry and Ginny's baby without Draco Malfoy finding out, but even as the thought entered her head, she knew it was futile. She could not risk it however much she was tempted.
It had been deliberate on Draco's part to talk about her friends, she could see that now. He knew full well that she had no contact with them but had wanted to stir her curiosity about the people who had once been like a family to her in the Wizarding world. Well, he had succeeded. Images of herself, Harry, and Ron during their school days flooded her mind, and she sighed deeply for what may have been.
Then with a determined shake of her head, she stood up. Mooning about in this way, wishing for the past would get her nowhere other than to make her feel miserable. It certainly wouldn't help her decide what she was going to contribute to the barbecue that Angus and Megan were holding in a few days time.
XoXoXoXo
The sound of voices and laughter drifted to Hermione as she walked up the front path of the Lintons' house and pushed open the back gate. A crowd of people was congregated on the well-kept lawn while Angus Linton, a tall ginger-haired man, presided over the barbecue set to one side of the lawn.
"Hermione! I was just about to ring you to see where you were." Megan detached herself from a laughing knot of people and came over to her. "What will you have to drink? I advise you steer clear of the punch; Barry made it and I think he was rather liberal with the alcohol!"
"What's the point in punch if it hasn't got a drop of the good stuff in it?" Barry Langford grinned at Hermione. He was of medium height with bright twinkling eyes which surveyed her curiously.
"There's a drop of the good stuff and a gallon of it," Megan retorted, grinning back. She steered Hermione towards the drinks table and pouring her a glass of wine, muttered, "Just so you know, Ben's going to be here."
"What?" Hermione turned to stare at her friend, aghast. "But I thought you said-"
"Angus, bumbling fool that he is, invited him. They'd had a few drinks at the pub and common sense went out of the window. You know what they're like."
"I suppose we have to meet again at some point," Hermione sighed resignedly, sipping at her glass of chilled wine. "At least there's lots of other people here to cover up any awkwardness."
"That's what I thought once I'd finished telling Angus what an idiot he was. Ben's not here yet so you don't have to worry."
"I'll keep an eye out for him."
"Honestly, men! You can't trust them to do anything right. I'd better go and help with the barbecue or we won't be getting any food this side of next year." Megan shook her blonde head in exasperation.
"Shall I-"
"No, you enjoy yourself; there's more than enough people to manage the barbecue." So saying, she pushed Hermione towards a laughing group of people nearby and disappeared.
Hermione was soon caught up in the babble of chatter as she conversed with the Lintons' friends, most of whom she knew well. The drink flowed freely and she felt herself start to relax in the convivial atmosphere. The evening was warm for the end of September, a gentle breeze fanning their faces and making the flames of the barbecue dance. Overhead, the sun was setting, leaving in its wake a red sky. So far, there was no sign of Ben, and she felt relieved. For all her brave words to Megan earlier, she didn't want to come face to face with him if she could avoid it.
A tap on her arm made her look round to see Barry Langford standing beside her, holding a glass of his own punch. "Can I persuade you?" he asked, offering the glass but she shook her head.
"I still haven't finished my wine, thanks. I will try some though, a bit later on."
"It's good stuff you know; really warms up the blood." He knocked back the punch as though it were water and smacked his lips.
"I'm not much of a drinker. A glass or two of wine is normally enough for me," she smiled back.
"You don't know what you're missing." There was a pause, and then he asked, "So, seen anything of your family lately?"
"They came down six weeks or so ago. I plan to go and see them soon, maybe on Friday."
"You're a close family then." The remark was casual but she frowned. It was unlike Barry to take this much interest in her. Usually their conversations related to either Anthony or Joan Langford, Barry's children, both of whom she taught English Language and Literature.
"Yeah, we always have been fairly close. I think the older you get, the more you appreciate your parents."
He smiled. "You're an only child?"
"No, I have a brother who's nineteen and in his second year of medical school in London."
"Oh? Which one?"
"Bart's." At his confused look, she amended, "St Bartholomew's."
Barry helped himself to another glass of punch and took a swig. "Of course, it's one of the best. You've both done well; your parents must be proud. Where did you go to school?"
"Godolphin and Latimer," she said without hesitation. She had been asked this question so many times over the past few years, it no longer bothered her.
Barry's eyebrows rose and he looked more intently at her, eyes narrowed in thought. Hermione returned his stare while trying to discern his thoughts.
"You did your A-Levels there as well?" he asked curiously.
"Yes. Then I decided that I'd had enough of London so took up teaching at the same time as doing my degree. Anyway, how about you? How's Chris getting on at his school?" She changed the subject smoothly.
As though he'd come to a decision he smiled. "Oh, he's getting on fine. He loves it there. I must admit I was a bit worried at first, a young lad away from home and all that, but he seems to have settled down nicely."
"Does he have a lot of friends?" she asked politely, scanning the crowd milling around them.
"Oh, yes. They're split up into houses you see depending on strengths and so on. A child's house is like his family so to speak."
Hermione knew at once that he was referring to the four school houses at Hogwarts and began to feel uneasy. Had Barry heard of her through his son? It would account for his sudden interest in her school career.
She pinned a bright smile to her face and said, "Oh, that's nice. It's always hard at first. I remember as though it were yesterday that my first few weeks at Godolphin, I was terribly homesick. It eased after a while and I saw my parents every weekend."
His look of disappointment told her that this hadn't been the response he had wanted. "I'm sure," he sighed.
"Why did Chris go to a boarding school? Did Mayfield not meet his requirements?"
Barry's expression was closed as he surveyed her. "No. Chris is gifted and as good as Mayfield undoubtedly is, he needed a more challenging environment."
"Food's ready everyone!" Angus's voice drifted across to them, and collecting plates, they made their way over to the barbecue.
Soon Hermione had been separated from him by the jostling crowd and she breathed a sigh of relief as she saw him talking to one of Megan's other neighbours. That, she admitted, had been rather awkward to say the least. She was ready to bet that Barry had heard of her from his son; why else had he sought her out? Six years of practice, however, had ensured that she could act as well as the best of them, and she recognised that it was this ability which had finally convinced him that he was mistaken about her identity.
Hermione moved forward and was soon helping herself to food, laughing and chatting to the group around her.
"Mad!" Eddie Thompson, a young man of nineteen who was on the local rugby team, exclaimed, eyeing Hermione's plate. "How can you live without meat?"
"Easily," she replied calmly, "you just don't eat it."
"I don't hold with all this vegetarianism," Tom McGibbon, a beefy truck driver, commented, helping himself to a drumstick. "Animals were put on the earth to be eaten, so as humans, we have to do our duty by eating them. It's an insult to the creator if we don't!"
The conversation continued in this vein, and Hermione found herself smiling as she listened to the banter going on around her. It was at times like this that she was glad of the small community that made up the Somerset village. Most of its inhabitants had been born here, although a few like her were relatively new comers.
"Mummy said that you were staying tonight," Brian Linton said, sidling up to her while nibbling on a sausage. He was tall for his age, possessing light brown hair and very blue eyes which twinkled at her out of a grubby face.
"Is that okay with you?" Hermione asked, grinning down at him.
"Only if I can sleep in your room." He gave her a disarming smile, which showed the gap in his front teeth.
"I don't think that Sophie would like that," was her diplomatic response as she scanned the garden for Megan's youngest child.
Brian made a noise of disgust and bits of sausage flew out of his mouth. "Who cares what Sophie says? Anyway, she'll be asleep by the time I go to bed, so she won't know." He puffed out his chest as he spoke.
"No I won't! I'm going to sleep in Auntie's room, so there!" Sophie Linton had arrived on the scene. Small and blonde, she reminded Hermione of a contained tornado as she glared up at her brother.
"Yes you are. I said so!"
"No I'm not!"
"That's enough, both of you," Hermione broke into the argument. "Look, Daddy's serving desserts. Why don't you go and get some ice-cream?"
Both children turned to where their father was setting out large bowls of ice-cream, and their squabble forgotten, ran over to him.
"You certainly know how to handle them."
The quiet voice made Hermione start, and turning, she saw Ben Cambel-Black watching her, hands thrust into trouser pockets. Tall and slim, he was an imposing figure, possessing auburn hair which glinted in the evening sunlight. His features were regular and his dark eyes held a bland expression she could not decipher.
"Ben! I hadn't realised you were here," she floundered, not knowing what to say. She had been so caught up in the argument between Brian and Sophie that she hadn't seen him arrive. Uneasily, she wondered how long he had been watching her and cast about for something to say to break the tension.
"Nice evening," she finally managed.
His eyes not leaving her, he nodded. "Very nice."
"Have you had some food? If you're not quick, there'll be nothing left." She moved towards the food tables, but he put a hand on her arm forestalling her.
"I'm not hungry. Shall we go for a walk? Megan's roses are doing well; I'd like to take a closer look at them."
"You go." She glanced round for help but everyone seemed to be over by the desserts table, leaving them alone. "I've got to help Meg with the children."
"Hermione, we need to talk." Ben's voice was calm, but she could hear an underlying note of steel in it.
"There's no point; it won't change anything," she retorted hotly. "Let's just go our separate ways and leave it there shall we? "
For an answer, he took hold of her arm and guided her firmly down the path to the small summerhouse at the end of the Lintons' garden, opened the door, and pushed her inside.
"We'll be missed," she protested as he leaned against the door, barring her escape. "People will wonder where we are and that'll give rise to even more gossip than there is at the moment."
"No we won't. People recognise the fact that we need to talk and will leave us alone."
Hermione knew that he was right. The news of their break up had not been received well by the inhabitants of the village, most of who were of the opinion that they should have stayed together. More than one person had offered to act as a mediator between them in an effort to heal the rift. The villagers would be only too glad that they were alone and sorting things out.
"Ben, please. What's the point in going over old ground again; it won't get us anywhere."
"It may help me to understand why you suddenly broke things off like that. Those excuses about us not being compatible, were just that - excuses. So, why, Hermione?"
She sighed and took a deep breath, knowing that she had been afraid of this. Ben was a persistent man and wouldn't let matters rest until he knew what had prompted her to act as she had. Part of her blamed herself for the folly of getting involved with him when it could only spell trouble in the long run, but another part reminded her forcefully of the loneliness and heartache that had been her companions for the five years since they had got to know one another.
She thought again of the risk she was taking in seeing him, and knew that she would have to end it here and now. Draco Malfoy would use any leverage he could to find her and her involvement with Ben was activating, however mildly, the defence mechanism that protected her marriage. It was time to tell Ben her concocted story for just such an eventuality as this. It would hurt him, but in the circumstances, there was nothing else she could do.
"Okay, fine," she said, looking him squarely in the eye. "I'll tell you my reasons for ending things, but I warn you, they aren't pretty."
He nodded. "I just need to know."
"Well, when I was eighteen, I was half in love with this boy I knew. However, he didn't feel the same about me and on the night I confessed my feelings, told me that he had got engaged to someone else. Mortified, I came here to pull myself together and put it all behind me. I got a letter from him two weeks ago asking if we could meet for a drink. Apparently, things didn't work out for him and his fiancé and they split up."
Ben's expression had hardened as she talked and she winced at the look of anger in his eyes. "So you're going to go back to him, is that it? God, Hermione, have you no self-respect?"
"It isn't like that-" she defended but he cut across her.
"Then what is it like? Actually, on a second thought, I don't want to know. I hope you're happy with this man, but don't come running to me in tears when he dumps you too!"
So saying, he wrenched open the summerhouse door and left her alone. Hermione hugged herself as she replayed the scene in her mind. Life was so unfair! Due to something that was beyond her control, she was forced to live a miserable life. She hoped the Malfoy family and all associated with them would rot in hell for this.
XoXoXoXo
The hot water cascaded down Hermione's tense body, and she relaxed under its soothing ministrations. The evening had felt as though it would never end, but finally everyone had gone home, and she, Megan, and Angus, had packed up the barbecue. She hadn't seen Ben after their confrontation in the summerhouse, and once again, sadness welled up within her for hurting him like that. He was a good man, placid and gentle, and she would have liked nothing better than to settle down with him. She blinked back tears for what may have been and straightened her shoulders.
Turning off the shower, she stepped out and wrapped herself in a fluffy towel and padded back into the guest bedroom. Soon she had changed into a nightdress, and pulling on a flimsy robe, began to work the tangles out of her shoulder-length hair. She knew that Ben would not breathe a word of what she had told him, but would simply ignore her. To him, she was weak, a woman who wasn't strong enough to stand up for what she believed in and who was silly enough to ruin her life for a dream.
"No, I won't!"
The sound of Sophie's high-pitched voice made Hermione put down her brush and frown. She had thought that both children were asleep but this couldn't be the case. By the sound of it, the child was working herself into a tantrum.
Swiftly, she got up, thrust her feet into slippers, and opened her door. Maybe there was something she could do to help the distraught child. She made her way to Sophie's room and going in, saw both Megan and Angus standing by the bed. Sophie lay on her back, her mouth open as she wailed loudly.
"I want Tabby, where is he? I want Tabby!"
"He's gone darling, remember?" Megan sat down and tried to pull the howling child on to her lap without success.
"No, I want him now!" A fresh bout of howling accompanied this statement making the adults wince.
"Sophie, stop this. We'll get you a new Tabby tomorrow." Angus tried to placate, but his words were drowned out by his daughters howls.
Tabby had been Sophie's pet dolphin, a ragged creature that had been consigned to the dustbin when the stuffing had started leaking out of him and his fins had fallen off.
"Tabby's gone to heaven Sophie," Hermione tried explaining, seating herself on the bed and looking into the tearstained face of the little girl. Clearly, the child was worn out, and as a result, moody in the extreme.
"Why? I want to go too! I want to go to heaven with Tabby!"
"You can't!" Brian's voice interjected. He was standing in the doorway in his pyjamas, the noise having woken him.
"Yes I can!" Sophie was glaring at him while tears ran down her face.
"You're not good enough. Only good people can go to-"
"Brian!" Angus said sharply, but the small boy ignored him as he taunted his sister.
"You're bad and they don't want bad people in heaven. I'm going to go because I'm good but you-"
"That's enough!" Angus moved across the room and grabbed the smirking boy by the arm. At the same time, Hermione too, jumped to her feet, intending to get Brian out of the room, and fast.
"Nooo!" The scream was rent from Sophie as she struggled to get out of her mother's arms.
Hermione turned to face her, poised half way between the bed and door. She wasn't sure what happened next. One moment the child was yelling and kicking an effort to get to her brother and hit him, the next, there was a crash as the shelf on which Sophie's teddies gave way. Suddenly, the air was full of flying teddies, all moving towards Brian.
"Hermione, duck!" Megan's voice was high-pitched with fear as the shelf rose into the air and began to move in the direction of the horrified boy.
Hermione made to throw herself onto the floor but she wasn't quick enough. The heavy shelf moved speedily through the air and there was a sickening crunch as it made contact with her left shoulder and upper arm. It fell with a thump to the floor and there was silence.
Pain lanced through Hermione as she knelt on the carpet, trying to make sense of what had happened. Her left arm hung at her side, limp and unresponsive, while her shoulder sagged strangely.
Megan leaped from the bed and knelt beside Hermione her face ashen. "Oh my God! Oh my-"
Her words were cut off by a sharp crack, and Hermione knew without being told that someone had just Apparated into the room. At the same time, the air behind Hermione stirred and a figure appeared silently behind her.
Slowly, and willing herself not to throw up, Hermione lifted her head and stared at the figure standing before her. Hannah Abbot, one of her old classmates, stood there wand outstretched, staring around her. Hermione glanced at Megan but her friend's gaze was directed over her shoulder. Hermione too, turned stifling a moan of pain, and the darkness that had been threatening to engulf her since the shelf had hit her, came up to meet her as her eyes fell on the tall, grey-eyed, blond man standing behind them, wearing a murderous expression.
