Four

[Hermione]

We spent the most of the day in Draco's room, trying not to speak of the inevitable. At some point, though, something had to give.

After a long pause in the conversation, he turned his face away from me, looking nervous.

"What's wrong?" I asked. If he was nervous, I knew that I should be too. My fate rested in his hands, after all. The very thought gave me anxious chills.

"Nothing," he quickly replied.

"Tell me."

"No."

"Malfoy."

"No."

"Come on!"

"Drop it!"

"Malfoy," I cried, "please, we've been getting on so well, and now you have to go and ruin it by keeping stupid secrets!"

"It's not a big deal."

"If it isn't a big deal, then why aren't you telling me?"

He had no answer to that.

"My father is coming for a visit sometime this week. He expects to meet at the fireplace briefly to discuss... well, you. I haven't decided what to tell him."

"It's best if you tell him the truth." I suggested.

He sighed. "Is it? Is it best if I tell him that you're awake and fine? It will just make him more eager to come back and break you. But if I tell him you're suffering and of no use, he'll tell me to put you out of your misery. He'll say, 'We'd do it for any animal. Do it for the mudblood.' And if I were to tell him the whole truth, do you think he'd be pleased to hear that his son – his own flesh and blood – is now a sympathizer with his enemies?" He hesitated. "He didn't know where I was during the war, you know."

"What?"

"He didn't know. He thought I was at Hogwarts still, safe and sound. And my body was. I used a spell to replicate myself. It seemed just like me, only duller. Nobody figured it out, though. They all thought I was withdrawn because of the wartime struggles." He sighed. "That night... that night you said, 'You have made more of a sacrifice than any of us. I admire you.' But I never made any sacrifice. I never gave anything up. Nobody really knows that I sided with... you. I was ashamed when you called me a good man. Me, ashamed!" He chuckled bitterly. "I couldn't help but do what I did... with you. You were so enchanting, the way you believed in me."

"Malfoy, just because you left a body at Hogwarts doesn't mean that you didn't sacrifice anything! I saw you fight. You could have died!"

"And I would have had a proper Death Eater's burial," he scowled.

"I don't believe it."

"What?"

"That you..." I gulped, "slept with me because you were ashamed."

"You're right. I did it because I felt alone, and hurt, and you were so kind to me that night, there were no words to convey my gratitude. Only... actions." His face tinged pink, and I smiled, my own cheeks burning.

"Well, your thanks are accepted. As is your apology for hurting me so badly afterwords."

He started, "But I didn't apolo-"

"Don't spoil it, Malfoy," I sighed.

"Right." He leaned back in his chair. "Are you hungry?"

"I thought you'd never ask!"

In the next few days, I thought a lot about Harry and Ron and the war. I spent my time in Malfoy's bedroom, sometimes with him, sometimes alone, thinking back to the old times, when things had been easy.

With the war over, all of us had been buoyant. The world now was a better place. It was during this time when Ron and I became a couple.

His voice was timid as he whispered, "Hermione?" I could almost hear the blush in his voice. He rarely called me by my full name anymore; it was usually 'Mione or Herms or something along those lines, all of which annoyed me to absolutely no end. But it was part of what made Ron, well... Ron.

"Yes?" I replied, dazed. It was late, and all I wanted to do was sleep. But since the war, sleep never came easily. I figured that a few minutes with Ron wouldn't hurt anything. We were at the Burrow, and I was sleeping in one of the teensy guest rooms. "Come in, Ron," I said.

He padded in, and I noted through the dim light that he only wore pajama pants. His chest was bare and flat, slightly rippled by newly developed muscle. The war had taken a toll on our bodies, but where I grew frail, he grew strong and muscled. "What do you need?" I asked gently, not wanting to be rude. My eyes started to close, but his voice made me open them again.

"I'm frightened."

I'd never heard him say those words before. Through all the war, he'd been as strong as any grown man. I was proud of him. But as I looked at him, I saw an eleven-year-old boy with pink ears and big, worried eyes. I saw somebody other than what he was now. "Come here," I beckoned.

"I miss Harry." He said simply. I nodded.

He sat down on my bed, and looked at me for a long time. When he spoke, he stumbled at first. "Y-you know, 'Mione... I've l-loved you for as long as I can remember. And I... I know that now isn't a good time. Harry's gone, my brother's... g-gone, and everything in the world is mending itself, but I had to tell you. I love you."

I was a little taken aback. During the final battle, he'd planted a heat-of-the-moment, adrenaline-rush kiss onto me. And I'd spent the past few nights wondering what it had meant for us. But my mind kept going back to that big, empty house where we'd all hidden. I kept thinking of Draco Malfoy, eyes like silver looking into mine, as he took – no, I gave him – the one thing I'd never imagined giving to him.

"Ron," I breathed. I couldn't find anything to say.

He began again, even more nervous than before. "I understand if you don't love me too, I just thought... you know, our kiss there at the last battle. Maybe it was the nerves talking, but I felt something. P-please tell me you felt something, 'Mione." He was pleading with me.

I just looked into his brown eyes, the ones I'd once gazed at so lovingly even as he teased me for my buck teeth or my puffy, unmanageable hair. "You know I did, Ron." I replied quietly, turning my face away. I could almost hear his face light up.

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

A large part of me was thrilled right to the core. But another part of me, a smaller, quieter part, was unsure. Ron didn't know what I did with Malfoy that night, and he never could. And everybody knows that secrets are the death of relationships. However, I was hopeful. I'd wanted this for so long, and Malfoy wasn't ruining it for me.

While I was drifting in my own thoughts, I hardly noticed Ron leaning in until he was upon me. Before I could wonder about his close proximity, his lips were crashed to mine. My heart skipped a beat, and then slowed back to its normal pace. This felt... relaxing. Warm, but not hot. Slow, but not that unbearable kind of slow that I'd experienced... No, I'm not thinking about that right now.

Ron spent the night with me. We slept, clothed and deep, with our arms wrapped around each other.

That was the start of our relationship. Everyone expected us to get married right off, as this was obviously a match made in heaven. But we didn't. Instead, we waited. We dated for almost two years. He had just recently proposed to me, and we were engaged now. Only my ring had gotten lost in the capture. My eyes welled with tears. I wondered if Ron was worried about me.

When Malfoy entered the room, tears were beginning to course down my cheeks.

"Granger?" He asked gruffly. I could tell he wasn't sure what to do. "Is... everything alright?"

I nodded, not able to speak. The pain in my chest was too great.

"What's wrong?"

I cleared my throat, trying to get the tears to dissipate. "I... I miss Ron. And I wish I could see him once before... Well, I just miss him, and he's probably worried to death about me. Without Harry here... I'm all that he has. When I'm gone, he'll be alone."

"You're still with Weasel then?"

I didn't even protest about Malfoy calling him that. "We're engaged."

He pointedly looked at my bare finger.

"And I suppose he couldn't afford a ring?"

My temper flared. "For your information, it was lost when your little Death Eater pals captured me," I spat, venom dripping from every word. "I hope Ron finds me. I hope he follows me here with all the Aurors and people from the Ministry and he kills all of your father's filthy friends!" I was so angry I nearly shook.

"Now, now. Don't get sore with me, Granger." His tone was uncertain.

"I'm never going to see my fiancee again, you prat! The one man who wasn't only after one thing, who took care of me, I'll never see again. Instead, I'm stuck here with my miserable one-night-stand."

He sighed. "You are really bitter, you know that?"

"And rightly so!" I replied angrily. "I hate secrets. I believe they destroy relationships. But I could never tell Ron what happened! He'd kill you!"

"As if he could," he chuckled to himself.

"He could! Ron is twice the man you are!"

Malfoy snorted.

I was exhausted now, and all I wanted to do was fall asleep. But I was also riled up, and I couldn't let the situation lie. I wasn't that kind of person. "Do you have some parchment?" I asked shortly.

"Why?" He asked. He was suspicious, I could tell.

"I want to write Ron a letter in case... well, we both know I'm not making it out of here alive."

"Granger, have you no faith in me at all?"

I looked at him then. His eyes were wide, round, but tired. He'd been spending all his time with me, and he looked even more drawn than before. His face was pleading. "I am going to help you. You're not going to die. I promise you."

I almost believed him. His eyes looked more open than I'd ever seen them before. I made to get out of the bed, to walk across the room to where he sat. As my feet hit the floor for the first time in unnumbered days, my muscles screamed. I cried out as my knees gave. Seconds before I hit the floor, Malfoy scooped me up into his arms. "You're not quite ready to walk yet. The curse my father used on you was revised. Did you notice the different enunciation as he cast it? It makes the pain more... painful. And the damage is far more lasting."

I nodded, resting my head against his shoulder. "Am I too heavy?"

He laughed, and it sounded genuine. "Granger, you must be joking. You've had nothing but cocoa and crackers for three days. You weigh nothing."

"Can we leave this room?"

"What, not good enough for you?" He teased.

"No, it's just that I need a different view."

He nodded and carried me out of the room. As we entered the hallway, it was significantly darker. The walls were a deep brown, and I almost missed the airy quality of his bedroom. But I was thankful for the change of scenery. "Where are we going?" I asked, my arms looped around his neck. As I turned to face him, I was reminded of having my arms around him, just like this. My heart thumped.

He looked down at me. "My mother's parlor. You'll like that room, I think." We walked down the hall and were about to head down the steps when I stopped him.

"Wait. Can I bathe first?"

He looked surprised. "What does it matter if you bathe or not?"

"I don't want to soil your furniture. And I haven't bathed in three days."

He sniffed me. "Yes, very true. Alright, to the shower." He carried me back down the hallway and pushed open a door on the left. "Here you are." He set me gently on the toilet seat while he started the water and got out linens and the like. He then stopped and looked at me. "Well? Undress. You can't get in here yourself, I'll have to put you in." He must have noticed the mortified look on my face, because he said, "What? It isn't like this would be my first time seeing you naked." My face turned bright red. "Don't blush like that. You look quite tempting when you do that." He paused. "Oh, and it's not even the second time either."

I glared at him. "Are you bloody bipolar? First you have no respect for me, and now you're dying to see me naked again. This is madness." My hands shook. Thinking of the last time he'd seen me naked... that pain; it gave me chills like I'd never known.

He tapped his foot impatiently. "Are you taking your clothes off or not?"

"No!" I growled.

"Fine. Suit yourself." He left me alone, and I slipped the robe off of my body. I wondered – for the first time – who it belonged to. Perhaps his mother? My face flushed with shame. I was wearing my captor's mother's clothes like they were my own!

I tried to stand up, and at first I was certain I could get to the bathtub, but it was a large, tiled bathroom, with very little to grab onto. I stood shakily, and pain rocketed through my knees, causing me to collapse. "Ah!" I emitted a painful moan.

"Granger, are you alright in there?"

"Just lovely, thank you," I called back.

A sigh. "Are you on the floor?"

"No." I was lying, but what did it matter?

"I heard you fall. Am I permitted to come in and help?"

"No!" I half-shouted.

"Alright."

Slowly, I began to drag myself towards the tub, but after a few feet, my arms began to ache. "What is going on with my body?" I cried. "Everything hurts!"

"I told you, my father made a few... revisions... to the curse."

I whimpered. "It's terrible."

He hesitated. "I know."

My heart felt for him. "He used it on you?" I didn't know whether to be surprised or not.

"Can I come in now?"

"Did he use it on you?" I was no longer surprised.

"Granger." I heard the threat in his voice.

"Alright. Come in."

I was so humiliated as he looked at me, silver eyes full of pity. Gingerly, like I was made of glass, he picked me up. I rested my head against his shirt, my nose buried in his scent. I did it so he didn't see the red in my cheeks. I was so embarrassed, I kept my legs clenched together and my arms crossed over my bare breasts.

As he set me into the full, warm bathtub, my body began to relax a little. "That's right, ease up," he encouraged. "The more tense you are, the more your muscles will ache." He held my hand until I was comfortably leaned against the back of the tub, and my legs were stretched out. "Are you alright?" His voice was so gentle, so sweet. I nodded, my eyes sliding shut as the warmth enveloped me.

"Call me when you're finished," he said, leaving the bathroom. "I won't be far."

I nodded. Before he left, he looked back at me. I knew he was looking at the long scar along my stomach, and I turned my face away. I heard the door shut behind him, as a quiet tear slipped down my cheek.