Who She Was to Him, Part 2 - Chapter 7
Hermione paced her room for well over an hour, a million thoughts running through her mind. Most of the time, she huffed to herself incoherent nonsense, only throwing in rational thoughts every few moments.
"Okay, so he loved me," she grumbled, making a few mumbled sounds of slight mistrust. She then went on, "It did seem like I loved him. I sure as hell liked that kiss. I was practically purring!"
She clamped a hand over her mouth in fear of waking up her pregnant friend and her pregnant friend's very tired, incredibly attentive husband who, as of late, was receiving rather harsh treatment from his wife. She was, after all, in the last stages of her pregnancy. The woman was bound to be cranky.
Hermione removed her hand once she calmed herself down and sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing her face in exhaustion. Sleep desperately wanted to come, but she feared she'd have another dream.
"Not dream. I'm remembering...and I don't think I want to."
Eventually sleep seemed far too much a necessity to further ignore so she crawled under her sheets and closed her eyes. After rolling over several times and adjusting her pillow to the point of nearly shredding it, she fell back into a restless sleep...
"I'd like for you to come inside," he whispered, his hot breath cascading down her neck and tingling every inch of her skin. His lips grazed ever so lightly that it nearly made her fall over and she probably would have had he not been holding her so tight.
After swallowing thickly and regaining some composure, she looked up to meet his eyes. "Are you sure you want this? I mean...you did tell me earlier that you've never taken a girl here, let alone in your actual home."
Draco smiled, nodding and looking down. "Yes," he agreed, "I did say that though it's far from a home. However, I believe that I also mentioned that our dates never extended beyond date number three, most of which involved some more...physical dating techniques."
Hermione quirked up her right eyebrow, a light smile touching her lips.
"You, on the other hand, are different. Hermione I...I just kissed you for the first time and we're well beyond date three. Do you honestly think I would have asked you here if I didn't care about you? Come on, I thought you were smart."
That did her in. Immediately she huffed and clamped her arms across her chest, the furrow cast between her brow. "How dare—"
He silenced her with a kiss, surging his lips against hers while kneading his hands at her hips. She struggled for a moment in exasperation before succumbing to his caresses and returning his kiss. All the anger seemed to fade away from her, leaving her breathless and nearly lightheaded. Taking a cue from the other that breathing was a necessary means for survival, they parted and panted heavily, keeping their foreheads clunked together.
"Come inside..." he whispered.
Feeling much too dizzy to voice her words, she nodded and allowed him to whisk her away through the meadow toward his house, small hand in his...
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Hermione had not expected the house to be as simple as it was. Even after the several dates she shared with him and knew he was well beyond the snotty child he grew up as, the back of her mind expected at least a few items to be insanely out of the ordinary. He was an incredibly cultured man, yet, his quaint house was just as plain and basic as her own, albeit in the more manly sense. All of his furniture featured dark colors; the typical blacks, greys, and navy blues that most men go for. His walls were a creamy white and his carpet appeared the color of charcoal grey, almost like the color of damp concrete.
What struck Hermione was the complete lack of pictures in the place. He had coffee tables and side desks so why in the world would he not have any pictures atop? Not even one of his family? Not even one of, perhaps, somebody he cared about?
"Take a seat," he told her, snapping her out of her daze. "I'll go get us some drinks so just...um, make yourself comfortable."
Hermione had never seen him more flustered and she found it positively endearing. Whenever at a restaurant or in public he seemed calm and collected around her, much like the suave detectives she loved watching in old films. Now that they were alone and he confessed his feelings in such an earnest manner, he seemed more on edge than per his usual.
She sighed and sat down on the couch, leaning back and closing her eyes. A part of her wanted to admit her own feelings for him, confess everything she felt right back at him, but her brain held her back. Hermione Granger's downfall will probably be the notion of thinking too much. Now I'm referring to myself in third person as well as talking to myself...yep, you're sanity is gone Miss Gra—STOP IT! She wanted to tell him, but couldn't do it. Perhaps if she was being honest with herself, then she would have realized it was because of the fear to open up again...the fear to lose again.
Draco returned with a bottle of red wine and two glasses, frowning at Hermione's melancholy expression.
"Sickle for your thoughts," he muttered, sitting down next to her and pouring their drinks.
"Just thinking," she sighed easily. Her demeanor changed when she saw the wine and cringed. "Ugh, I hate the stuff. I can't drink that."
"What's so wrong with it?" he asked, handing her a glass in spite of her reaction.
"I had some of my mother's at a party when I was around fourteen. I hated it and I haven't touched it since," she told him as she sniffed it, making a face even though it didn't exactly repulse her.
Draco chuckled and pushed the drink toward her which she attempted to hand back. "It's been a long time and I highly doubt anybody at fourteen would like it. So, try it again and then tell me if you still hate it."
Hermione quirked her mouth into an apprehensive mien before submitting and taking a sip. "It's not bad," she admitted sheepishly.
"I told you," he said smugly, taking a sip himself.
"Just because it doesn't blow doesn't mean it's great either," she snapped, though there was no rancor in her voice. In fact, it made Draco burst out laughing.
"Hermione, you are one of a kind," he said, still chuckling.
From there they were enveloped in silence. It was not the type of silence created out of awkwardness or met with the feeling that someone needed to speak. Quite the opposite, really, as Hermione and Draco both found it comfortable and easy to listen to.
She snuggled up against him, just sitting on his couch and listening to him breath. Hearing him breathe was honestly becoming one of her favorite sounds. She could fall asleep sitting like that, encased safely in his arms.
After several minutes, she broke the silence with a question. "What was with the key?" she asked softly. Draco's laughter was reborn and Hermione looked at him oddly. "What is so funny?"
"I was wondering when you were finally going to ask me about that. I just knew your inquisitive nature would get the best of you," he told her easily.
"Is that a bad thing?" Her brow dropped into a 'V' like shape when she asked.
Shaking his head, he said, "Not at all. Your intelligence happens to be one of your most attractive qualities."
Blushing, she looked down and merely waited for him to speak again.
"Stay here," he said as he moved her off him gently, letting her curl up with her legs beneath her body, "I want to show you something. Let me get it."
She waited curiously and felt a surge of unexpected surprise when he returned with a sufficient-sized box, a small keyhole in the front. He placed it on the table in front of her before he moved back to take her in his arms.
"What's that?" she asked.
"That would be what the key opens," he told her, leaning in to smell her hair and brush his lips against her temple. His right hand moved across her belly and kneaded at the material, eliciting a moan from her seemingly on her mouth's own accord. She turned her face to rub against his chin, the stubble chaffing her healthy and smooth complexion though it hardly registered to her. Quite the opposite, really, seeing as she thought a man looked best with a light goatee across his face. His hands pulled her tighter against him forcing a smile from her. It had been such a long time since she felt protected.
"What, um, is inside?" she forced out, her eyes still closed and her hands clenching into the material of both her dress and his black slacks.
"Inside," he whispered, barely grazing his lips against her ear, "is something for you. It's something that I don't think most would ever consider giving to you because, like you said, I think very few actually listen to you. Otherwise, I doubt you would have gotten as deep into your self-loathing as you have."
"Dra—"
"Hear me out, Hermione." Upon those words, he pulled back to stare into her eyes, appearing like he was trying to get a difficult concept across to a very young child. "You cannot deny that you're in a dark place nor am I saying it's not justified. Merlin, I think you're doing incredibly well given what has happened to you. I'm downright impressed!"
As if on cue, she dropped her gaze in that moment, but he would not allow her to remain staring down. He tilted her chin back up with the insistent force of his right hand.
"Don't do that. You can't...you can't keep averting your gaze when clearly you have earned the right to hold your chin up. My God, Hermione, you're the most incredible woman I've ever met and yet..."
He broke off, evidently thinking about what to say; like he was choosing his words very carefully.
"I've dated many girls," he said distastefully. "I've dated so many girls that I've lost count and not one of them ever spoke about herself in a manner I saw to be fitting. Most spoke about their accomplishments, many of them I didn't even find proficient, and not once did they speak badly of themselves. You, on the other hand, have done so many incredible things, but in spite of that you keep your eyes downcast and rarely speak of the good things. I kept asking myself why and why until I finally realized it."
She bit her lip as he cupped her face in both his hands, willing her to keep his gaze. Leaning forward to brush his lips against hers as he spoke, he whispered, "You truly were a hero rather than just appearing to be one."
Before she could respond, before anything coherent could even leave her mouth, he claimed her lips in a deep kiss. She gave in and allowed him to encircle her again. Getting lost into him and his lips felt like coming home for her, like releasing the built up pain she thought would haunt her forever.
Several minutes later, they broke apart, his arms still holding her tightly against him. Hermione forgot how good it felt to snog and certainly wanted to continue the endeavor after she finished the conversation; she had not disregarded how he seemed to avoid her question about the box.
"So," she began, once she felt able, "what's in the box? You never did answer me."
"Granger, must you be impatient?" he asked and earned himself a giggle from her. He sighed, "As I was saying before we, er, engaged into a more sensual art, I was talking about how what's inside that box is something nobody else would get you. You see, I think while your friends mean well they still think of you as the bookworm you were in school."
"Hey! I'll have you know that I still am a bookworm," she shrieked, sounding hurt that he would insinuate she no longer cared for her trusty hardbacks (though her smile gave her away - she clearly did not take too much offense).
"I'm well aware, my dear, but I doubt that even you want a book on every occasion, hm?"
She didn't respond, opting to snuggle even closer to him. He appeared satisfied with her non-verbal answer and continued, "I think your close friends still see you as the Hermione who went to Hogwarts. They have yet to see you the way that I do...they don't see the woman you are now. Like most people, I think it scares them."
"Why would that scare them?" she asked tentatively.
"It would mean change and we all know how welcome change is for most people." The sarcasm did not go unnoticed.
Draco rubbed her arm up and down in lazy strokes, still taking every opportunity to smell her lovely hair.
He finally continued, "You, too, don't want to change Hermione and change is in that box. I assure you it's not a book or a picture or anything else of your past, but something which will push you forward. It's something that I thought would help you see that it's okay to let go and it's okay to be happy. You don't have to spend the rest of your life being Hermione Granger, one-third of the Golden Trio and the innocent Gryffindor bo–avid reader." Hermione couldn't help but smile at his correction though it disappeared as quickly as it came.
"Every hero deserves the chance to be himself, or in our case, herself after their heroic deed is finished. You deserve to live life and now it's just a matter if you'll do it," he murmured against her temple. "You have the means, but do you have the will?"
The will? I had the will. I had a lot of that back when I was fighting alongside them. He's right. Do I still have that? Can I have that?—then it struck her—I'ma Gryffindor so OF COURSE I have that!
"I can have the will. I have the will, Draco," she said tenuously (in spite of her recent thoughts).
"Prove it."
And she did. Hermione sat up, gulped slightly as to adjust herself into a more comfortable position, and moved her body toward the end of the couch. Pulling the key out from a slip in her dress, a movement which forced Draco to, er, readjust himself, she held her breath before slipping it into the lock. Turning it fully clockwise one time, she heard the familiar click of it unfastening. Slowly, she lifted it up and stared at the content inside, dumbfounded.
"That's...that is what you claim will bring upon my epiphany?" she asked nonplussed.
Draco laughed lightly and responded, "No. What I said brought upon your epiphany. This is merely a reminder to continue with it." He smirked as she eyed him curiously before pulling out the item and scanning it over with interest.
It was a bracelet. It was a single, silver bracelet with antique indents all around. The plain object just seemed so...plain? Yes, plain, there was no other word for it.
"Put it on," he instructed simply.
Without glancing at him, she did as she was told and placed it about her wrist. Directly after the clasp was snapped, writing appeared on its own accord.
Don't wallow in yesterday, don't marvel over tomorrow, but breathe into today and all the love amid.
She returned to his gaze and nearly wept when he said, "The love amid is right in front of you."
Hermione licked her lips and moved her eyes back and forth from Draco to the bracelet. He pulled her back into his arms, feeling her tremble, and kissing her cheek as means to calm her nerves. Right before he was about to claim her lips again, she said, "If that was a line, it worked."
Draco smiled genuinely as he muttered, "Good. Though it was anything but a line."
Then he kissed her.
And then he kissed her again.
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"So how did everything go with Draco last night?" asked Ginny nonchalantly, waddling her big body to the kitchen table with a bowl of pickles and vanilla ice cream, acting like she was just trying to make conversation. The girl pulled out a mahogany chair and sat down with a heavy thud, her pink checkered, maternity dress getting caught on the chair leg. Hermione reached down and adjusted her friend's skirt, the girl smiling afterward.
"Thanks," she said cheerily. "So, now, what were we talking about again? Oh yeah, the date; how'd it go?"
Sensing this just a ploy to get the details out of her, Hermione gauged her response and mumbled, "Fine." Plain and simple, nothing else.
"Come on, Hermione. I know you don't exactly feel anything for him, but I've been stuck at home with swollen ankles and a fat ass for the last month. My husband thinks I'm disgusting and I'm fat and I want this bloody baby out of me!"
"I've seen Blaise with you. He does not think you're disgusting in the least," retorted Hermione with lifted eyebrows.
"Oh shut up. You got to give me something!"
Hermione did not want to keep a pregnant woman in duress (the last weeks had proven just how bad hormones can get) so she complied. "We just had dinner and talked. Nothing really out of the ordinary so don't get your knickers in a twist."
Taking a large bite and chomping on a sour pickle, she thought, "You didn't discuss anything of importance? You didn't talk about the kids or about him or about you or about anything?!"
"Well, I asked him who I was to him," she commented like it was nothing out of the ordinary. Ginny put her spoon down and looked at her like Professor Binns just flew out from the top of her head. Hermione rolled her eyes and continued, "And he said I was his everything. He said, in so many words, that he was truly in love with me and I with him."
Ginny gave her a very Malfoy-ish smirk before Hermione asked, "You want to know the crazy thing about the whole thing?"
The redhead's attention turned back to her many pickles, but after taking a bite, she inquired, "What's that?"
"I believe him."
The dark-haired girl stood up from her seat and left the room. As Ginny watched her leave, she spotted a silver bracelet sparkling on Hermione's wrist.
A/N: When Draco spoke about being a hero to Hermione, that quote did not come from me. It actually derived from Baltasar Gracian who said, "Aspire rather to be a hero than merely appear one."
Also, the bracelet reading derived from the Buddha quote, "Do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment."
A Dream Worth Keeping is the work of fanfiction. The characters belong to J.K. Rowling, but the featured story is mine.
