Time Stop: So, we have decided something.
Shadow: We'll finish this first, then return to our other fic.
Wang: Yes!
Time Stop: We don't own Harry Potter
Chapter Three: Sun
Draco didn't sleep that night. He stayed awake all night watching her. At dawn, when the sun peaked into their room, Draco left. First off, he closed the blinds. Then, laying out a pair of pants and a t-shirt, Draco took her clothes and threw them into the washer.
"Merlin, what have I done?" Draco muttered again. He set out a tall glass of water for her on the nightstand, a couple of aspirins as well. "What have I done?" It became a mantra for him. Why had he done it?
Draco went about his daily morning exercises, before checking his email. Scanning down the list, he crossed Phillipe's name. Sighing, he opened it.
"Chef," Draco read aloud. "Since tomorrow is our day of0f, the rest of the staff has planned a party down at the beach. We wanted to invite you last night, but Frank was out sick that day, and he could not be there to remind me. And, if you are reading this it means we forgot to ask you tonight as well. So, it is better late than never. Chef, you are invited to our fun in the sun (terrible name, but Frank insisted upon it, that son of a - sorry Chef) down at the beach. We are about an hour north of Boston, by those rocks Mary almost fell off from last year.
"So, if you could come on down by noon, we're going to have a picnic down by the shore. Frank said something about volleyball, and a couple of the guys are thinking about Ultimate Frisbee or some sort of American sport."
Draco's eyes furrowed as he finished the email. "And bring your bathing suit, something tells me that there might be a water war."
The rest of the letter ended with a paragraph or two on American pastimes, and about the lack of cultural flavor. Signed Phillipe. Draco closed the email, knowing it would be pointless to respond.
He scanned his email address again. His mouse stopped on one that was different from the usual spam or business emails. Opening it he read it silently. Then he read it again, his eyes bugged out. Slowly he returned to the top of the email. It wasn't long, only a couple sentences, but it still shocked him to the core.
Draco swallowed against the lump in his throat. It couldn't be. It was impossible. And yet, and yet he did it. Something about it was good enough for them. He reread the work. His eyes bugged out even more, sweat almost dripped from his brow. He had to make another one? By the fifteenth?
Draco checked the calendar. "That leaves me only ten days. Merlin, how do I get into this?" Draco slumped in his chair. "But they accepted me. They accepted me. I…I need an idea. I need something. Should I continue-no! Something original. If they wanted me to continue with it they would have told me."
Draco glanced at the clock. "It's about six now. If I start breakfast in an hour that gives me an hour to get something down. Yes, I'll do that." Draco set to work, glancing at the clock every so often to check his time.
His work wasn't that hard, but it was taking too long. By his calculations, his idea should have been fully formed by now. But now, a good way into the process, he wasn't much further than he was in the beginning.
He had to get further, he had to. His mind raced, ignoring all else save for the words in front of him, the deadline. But something told him he wasn't completely into his work. Something told him his heart and mind were focusing on someone else.
Hermione opened her eyes, groaning in pain. "That is the last time I drink, ever." She promised. She stumbled up, and blindly walked about the room. After opening the blinds and yelping in pain, she found what she was looking for. Rinsing her head in the sink, she cleared her eyes and her mind a bit, from the sleep.
Going back into the room, she glanced about, and found the water and the aspirin. Taking the pills, she downed the water, cleansing her mouth from the dry, tackiness that had taken home there.
"Never, ever will I drink again." Hermione promised. She sighed, flopping back into the bed with a dull thud. "Why can't I ever remember I have a weak stomach?" She closed her eyes, resting there for a bit.
Then she noticed she was naked.
Hermione almost jumped five feet in the air. "Where are my clothes?" She asked no one. Her eyes scanned the unfamiliar room. Taking the sheets, she draped them over herself in a makeshift robe.
"I…I remember the fire, and drinking wine." She mused aloud. She sat back down on the bed, only noticing then that she had gotten up. "I…I remember…remember." Images flashed before her eyes, of Richard, and of the love they made the night before.
"Oh, Merlin!" Hermione cried; a few tears escaped her eyes. "Merlin please tell me it was a bad dream."She sighed again. "Merlin tell me that was a dream." She repeated.
Facing the curtain, she steeled herself for the blinding light. "I have to find my clothes," she told herself as she stood and pushed the curtains out of the way.
Light hit her eyes, and she cried out in pain. But soon, her eyes adjusted, and she looked around the room. On the bed, on the far edge, laid an overly large t-shirt and a pair of pants. On the pants, a belt hung.
Hermione almost smiled. Richard, he was a true gentleman. But, images of Ron flashed through her head. She shook her head violently, before putting on the clothes. No! Why was Ron in her head? Why was Richard in her thoughts? Why?
She had to stretch the belt as far as it would go, before tying it shut. The shirt hung off her like a sheet, and the pants hung low even with the belt's help. "Richard…was it?"
She turned around looking in the mirror. "Why does he have this effect on me?" She asked aloud. "And why do I look good in his clothes?" She opened the door, and the flagrant smell of cooking food tickled her nose. "I…I love Ron." She declared into the empty hall. "I love him, even if he doesn't love me."
She went down the stairs, and stood at the bottom. She watched Richard for a while. He was moving about in the kitchen, but he was muttering to himself. His hair, tied into a ponytail, was half undone. His eyes glanced about looking for something, but ever did his lips move silently.
Hermione was about to enter the kitchen, when light caught her eye. She looked back into the library. Aside from the smoldering ashes, the light came from an old, familiar device.
"A computer? I haven't seen one of these in ages." Hermione whispered. She knew she shouldn't but she entered the library and headed towards the machine.
She moved the mouse a tad, and watched as the screen saver popped out of view. Two tabs she could read on the bottom. A saved word program only labeled as Mock 1. The other tab went into his email address. It was also the one that was open.
The email that was displayed was bright, and seemed to draw her in. Hermione knew she shouldn't be there, but every bone in her body seemed to be working against her. She went to the beginning of the email. It wasn't long, but only a couple of sentences.
"Mr. Rolfe," she read, "We are pleased to inform you that we absolutely love your novel, Dark Signs, Brighter Hopes. But, the editors need to know that you can produce more. We want you to write for us a novel, or the beginning of one, by Tuesday the fifteenth. Deliver and we can help you further."
Hermione left the computer. "Richard, writes?"
"Hermione? What are you doing here?" Hermione turned around. Richard stood there, hands hanging down, still dripping with water.
"I'm sorry!" She blurted. "I haven't seen a computer in ages, and I just wanted to look at it." Wait, did she just she didn't see a computer in a while? She was going to get caught! Richard, he isn't the dullest blade in the box, he would certainly catch her.
Richard sighed. "Did you read the email."
"Yes," she gulped. "I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't have but I-"
"Don't worry about it." Richard took down a stack of papers from the shelf, blowing off stray dust bunnies. "This is it, my novel."
Hermione hefted the pages as he have it to her; it was about a couple hundred pages. She read a few sentences, and then forced herself to stop. If she read anymore, she would be forced to continue. She glanced at Richard, or where he should be. But he was gone.
She placed the papers on the desk, and followed him into the kitchen. On the table stood two plates, and in between them were plates of food. She watched as he platted for her pancakes, hash browns, and sausage. On another small plate, buttered toast already sat.
She sat down, speechless. He turned to the stove, and retrieved a kettle. He tipped it gently, letting the dark liquid to fall into her cup. She raised it to her lips, and sighed in pleasure. Tea, actual British tea! She moaned in delight as she drank the liquid, burning herself on the hot drink.
"You didn't have to do this."
"I know."
They ate in silence. She felt so awkward there, eating across from a man whom she had invaded his privacy. The silence stretched, and Hermione could feel herself warm under his glancing gaze. She had to break the silence, even if it was to ask the question whose answer she already knew.
"Did we-" she started, frightening herself a bit with the sudden noise. "Did we," she asked softly. "Did we have sex last night?"
Richard put down his fork. He gently rubbed his eyes. "Do you want the truth, or something to make you feel better?"
Hermione looked at him. Who was he? Richard surprised her more and more every minute. What was he doing? No one could be that perfect. No one. Only Ron could be that perfect. But Ron…Ron was gone, being perfect with someone else. Richard, he couldn't be perfect. He couldn't. Only Ron could be perfect.
"Tell me truth. Being told anything otherwise isn't going to help."
"We had sex - made love - last night." Richard answered.
"Why did you force me?" Hermione accused. She would never have sex, not until marriage. That was one of the rules she followed by. She would never have sex unless it was with her husband.
"You told me to stay. I tried to leave, but even while drunk you said so completely sober that you wanted me to stay."
She blushed. Now she remembered, how Richard was trying to leave, but she told him to stay. She had initiated the love-making when he got into the bed. Even then he tried not to do it until he had succumbed to lust.
Or love. A voice no unlike hers spoke to her.
No. I would never do that. She told herself. I love Ron. I was drunk!
No! The voice spoke back, doing an uncanny impression of the tone she used on Harry and Ron back in Hogwarts. No! You were sober. You don't remember much, but you remember calling him to your bed. You said you wouldn't, not unless it was love or marriage.
She blushed horribly, across the table, Richard raised an eyebrow in surprise. I don't love him! She scolded. I love Ron!
Suit yourself. The voice answered. But you'll regret it in the end.
"Are you alright?"
"What! No, I'm all right." She answered. "I'm um…" she trailed off.
"Um, there is a beach party going on today." Richard interjected. His tone seemed rushed for Hermione, but she reasoned by the topic they had just covered. "It's sort of an annual thing the rest of the employees throw. They invited me, and I was wondering if you could join me."
"Um…what time?"
"Around noon. It'll take an hour to get there."
"I need to go to my hotel room."
Richard nodded. "I understand. I'll drive you there."
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "I didn't see a car when I walked in."
"Who said it was a car?"
So, while Hermione found her shoes, Richard grabbed his keys and such. In five minutes, she was holding onto him as he flew down the road on his motorcycle. Fifteen minutes later and she was in front of her hotel.
"I'll pick you up at eleven?"
She nodded, her legs shaking slightly. "I'll see you then."
"Bye."
"Bye."
He was about to leave when he stopped. "I should have done this a long time ago." He muttered aloud. He bent down, and kissed her on the lips, stunning her. "Hermione, wanted you to know I wouldn't have done it either if I wasn't in love."
He went back on his back. "See you at eleven." He drove away, leaving Hermione to sag to the ground. Still dressed in his clothes, with a terrible night's sleep, and a strange fluttering feeling in her heart, she was flabbergasted.
She had to purposely stand up, holding onto the wall for support. "Merlin, what is he? What is happening to me?"
Draco arrived home not long later. All the while muttering to himself. It was his new novel. He had to figure out the plot of this new one. He muttered details and dialogue while he put her clothes into the dryer. He did the same while putting the dishes in the dishwasher. He muttered to himself while he took a shower, and made a pasta salad for the party later on. He muttered to himself as he started to type.
Half focused, he wrote until he could write no more. When he was done, he glanced at the work. It was all right, but going on as he read, the plot he had chosen diverged into something else entirely. Until he finally realized it was his life. Draco grabbed the passages he had written, ready to delete.
Then he saw her name.
Written about half-way down the page he had written Hermione. Draco stopped his finger, and read silently the rest of the sentence. Hermione, I love you. Draco shook his head. She was getting to him, to the very core. He read on, and his eyes widened so much that he was afraid the would pass as platters without much more help. I need to tell you something, I am Draco Malfoy. I love you.
"What?" Draco murmured. "When did I write this?" He read the surrounding paragraphs, but no mention of Hermione or his love remained outside those three sentences.
"Merlin, what do I tell her?" He sighed. He slouched low in his chair. "What do I tell her now? I told her the truth. Why did I do that? She would have thought it a bad dream unless I told her otherwise. And why did I invite her to the bloody beach party anyways? I wouldn't have gone normally. And the way she touched me while she rode behind me."
Draco sighed deeply, remembering how her simple touch excited him more than he thought it ever could. "And why did I kiss her? 'I should have done this a long time ago.'? What was I thinking, saying that aloud? She heard me for Merlin's sake. She's going to figure it out."
Draco stood and stretched. He headed upstairs, where he put on his trunks and a white t-shirt. "I mean," he said to no one. "I mean that she isn't dumb. What did I mean when I said I should have done that a long time ago? And what was that about love? I…I do love Hermione, more than I think I will ever know. But how!"
Draco punched a pillow. His mind raced back in time. "When did I first start to love her?
"Did it start back in first year? Before I realized she was a mudblood. Merlin, I don't even like that word anymore. It seems foreign to me, evil to me. I wish I had never known my father, and his selfish ways. Could it have been in second year, when she was petrified by the basilisk? Was it in third year when she returned from saving Black, looking like a beautiful warrior princess? It was probably fourth year, when she danced in Krum's arms. And when she cried, I remember paying extra attention to Weasley after that.
"No, it was fifth year, when she was caught in my arms with the inquisitorial squad. Maybe sixth year, when she fought for her life. Merlin, I even remember her expression as she fought of Goyle. Seventh year, when she came back from her adventures in the forest in my manor, she was still beautiful. I think I shed a tear – no – I know I shed a tear when Bellatrix tortured her. And at Hogwarts, when she looked at me with…pity? Was it pity?"
Draco ran his hands through his hair. Moving his feet, he started down the stairs to the basement to retrieve her clothes. "No, it was at the trial, when she let me live. God! She must think I am such a prick. She doesn't love me at all. She loves Richard. But when I asked her if she wanted the truth, or something to keep her happy, she chose the truth. Should I tell her who I am?
Dammit! I wish I knew the right course! The sooner I tell her, the easier it will be on her. But I can't." Tears of shame dripped down his face. "I love her too much to tell her the truth. If she leaves, my heart might tear in two."
Draco punched the clothes hamper. When had he gotten downstairs? He packed her clothes into a bag. "I…I have to tell her. Tonight, before either one of us leaves the beach party. I have to tell her then. I-I don't want to do it. But I must. Even if it kills me."
Draco placed the macaroni salad and the clothes in the small storage space hanging on the back of his bike. Then, after tying his hair into a ponytail, he put on his helmet. Buckling his nerves, he rode off. He had to pick up Hermione, and he was going to be late.
Oh, screw life.
She waited outside. She was dressed in Draco's clothes still, but she had one of her belts. Even then, his pants hung low on her waist. Temptingly too low for him. Draco shook his slightly as she climbed aboard.
"You're late."
"I'm sorry, I just needed to wait for your clothes to dry. They're in the storage space on the back of the bike." Draco said. He handed her a helmet, and she stuck her head inside it.
"So, are you ready?" He asked.
"Yes." Draco revved the engine, and started off. As he made a sharp u-turn, she squealed slightly. She wrapped her arms around him, and hugged him tight.
"You alright?" He called over his shoulder. He felt her head rest onto his back.
"Yes, I'm alright." She answered.
When Richard made that turn, she was sincerely frightened. It had reminded her of the time Harry and Ron tried to make her ride a broom. She still had nightmares about that. But, riding on a motorcycle, she was all right. It was exactly like a broom, but on the ground.
"You alright?" Richard asked her.
Hermione rested her head on his back. This was nice, having someone worrying over her. Richard was someone she could trust, someone she could depend on.
"Yes, I'm alright." She answered. She closed her eyes, and imagined it was only the two of them, riding away into the sunset.
She almost sat upright, but another sharp turn made her hold on tighter. Ride into the sunset? That sort of fantasy was reserved for Ron. Ron…
Her eyes watered. Ron was the only one to be there for her. And she was with someone else. What was she? She was a terrible person! She didn't deserve to live without the love of her life, Ron!
"I hope you brought your bathing suit." Richard broke the silence. The city was behind them, and the open road ahead. "Phillipe warned me that there would be something to do with water today."
Hermione smiled. "I did. What do you think I'm wearing under your clothes?"
Richard half turned his head, smiling widely. "I hope it's your bathing suit, I would hate to miss you wearing it."
Hermione blushed a deep red. But she was happy that Richard couldn't see her face. Richard, he was perfect. She would have to tell him she loved him. The ache of Ron reappeared, but she forced it down. Ron, he had to take a backseat for now. What he doesn't know wouldn't hurt him.
The party was fun. Hermione had fun. And watching Richard as he relaxed with his employees was also good to see. She had so much fun. Playing Ultimate Frisbee with the girls while the boys played Volleyball. She was having so much fun. Even the water war would surprise her and excite her. And, she loved seeing Richard coated in water, his white t-shirt showing off his abs. Oh, she could sleep on those abs forever.
Unlike her, Draco was having fun, but his mind was wandering. So, while playing Volleyball he was distracted, and even when he was in the water war he was distracted. But he could admit that was more by the fact Hermione wore a perfect bikini during it. That only made him distracted more. Luckily, Phillipe and everyone told him to stop worrying about the Café. But that wasn't why he was distracted. He had to find a way to tell Hermione the truth, even if it killed him.
Draco grabbed Hermione's hand. "Come on, I got to show you something." He tugged her away from the rest of the group. They didn't notice as they walked off, for it was getting late. He led her down a stretch of beach behind some large rocks, away from the group.
"Richard, I want to thank you for such a good day." Hermione said.
"You're welcome." His reply was cut short when she kissed him gently on the lips.
"Richard, I was thinking a lot about what you said. I love you. I love you a lot." Hermione promised. "Richard, I love you and nothing will ever change that."
Draco let out a frustrated sigh. "Hermione, I…I…I…Argh!" Draco stormed off, Hermione watching as he did so. "Merlin! How does this happen to me! How can it always be me my life is ruined! How can I tell her who I am?"
"Richard, I know who you are. You're Richard."
"No! Don't you understand? I am someone you hate!" Draco whirled around, tears flowing freely down his cheeks. "You want the know the truth, you've always wanted the truth, as far as I have remembered."
Hermione's eyes opened wide, as Draco took off his shirt. Scars, about half a dozen of them, marked his chest. "These are the remains of Potter's curse on me back in sixth year." He shouted at her. He went to his arm, and with his right hand tore off the false skin that lay above his own. The pale arm shown harshly in the dieing light. "This my dark mark!" Draco shouted, tears running down harder.
"I don't even want this! I don't want my past, Hermione, but it is with me." With tears in his eyes, he looked her straight into hers. "Before I tell you who I am, I want to tell you that I always loved you. Before it was a childish fancy, but when I met you for the first time for seven years yesterday I laughed because I truly was in love with you. You could put me under any wizarding oath and I will be telling you the truth."
Hermione slapped in the face, hard enough to send him reeling. "I know who you are, Malfoy. And I can't believe you had the gall to do that to me. To my heart…I hate you!" She screamed. With a snap of her fingers she disapparated, leaving Draco on the beach alone.
"Merlin…why?" Draco whispered into the wind. He looked at the spot where she had gone from. "Hermione, I still love you." He cried. "I will always love you. And that is a promise."
But no one heard him save the wind.
Shadow: This is depressing.
Wang: Now I think I might cry.
Time Stop: Please review, we need your reviews to live. We eat them like people eat bread or drink water. It's vital for us.
Shadow: That's right, please review.
Wang: Wah! crying
