SOMEONE TO RUN WITH

Disclaimer: In its use of intellectual property and characters belonging to JK Rowling, Warner Bros, Bloomsbury Publishing, et cetera, this work of fiction is intended to be transformative commentary on the original. No profit is being made from this work.

Chapter 7: KNOWING (Hermione)

10 years later

I wave goodbye as the kids board the train. My heart lifts at the sight of their happy smiles and shining eyes. They are a constant reminder of the good that came out of the war, and I am so grateful for it. I place a protective hand on the base of my stomach. Ron doesn't know yet. I want to name it Fred if it is a boy. I feel a pair of eyes on me. I glance up and see silver.

Malfoy.

With his kids being about the same age as mine, I suppose it shouldn't have been surprising to see him here. But I feel my breath seize up when I catch his eyes. I had never told Ron or anyone in fact, about that night in the Forbidden Forest, or the kiss that had occurred previously. It was neither here nor there I told myself, things had worked out the way they should. His gaze flicks to my hand and then back up to me before turning away. My breath has yet to be released from the prison of my throat.

"Mione, Sweetheart." I feel Ron's arm heavy round my shoulders and I exhale sharply.

"Can you check the parking? I'm not sure on the time limit but I need to talk to Gin for a sec."

I am grateful for the opportunity to get out of the clawing atmosphere of the platform.

"No problem."

I give Harry and Ginny a quick wave before heading through the throng of people rushing through Kings Cross Station. It has changed since I was at school. There is shiny glass at every turn, and the smell of wine and coffee makes for a heady concoction. I'm glad when I pass through the exit doors into the fresh autumnal day. I walk towards the car. Two hours no return. I check my watch. Thirty minutes left to go. Should I go back or wait here? I can't decide.

"Granger."

Malfoy makes the decision for me.

"Malfoy." I eye his receding hair line and it makes me grateful for Ron's thatch of red hair. Malfoy looked old and I was going to enjoy telling him so.

"You look old Malfoy."

"Well you look fat Granger."

Bastard.

"It is called being pregnant."

He shrugs his shoulders. He doesn't care. And you know what neither do I. He can't hurt me like he did at school. He is not better than me. His blood is of no more consequence than that piece of dog shit festering on the ground in front of us. I turn and shrug my shoulders back at him. I make to get into the car.

"Would you ever have come with me that night?"

"What?" My brain freezes. I stay with my back facing him, not daring to turn around.

"I said; would you have come with me that night?" He had purposely spoken louder and with sharper enunciation.

"I heard what you said."

But why the hell are you saying it was my main question.

"Well."

"No. You were a Death Eater remember. You brought the war to us Malfoy."

"I had no choice."

It always came down to this with Malfoy. Choice to my mind was defined as choosing one from a number of things. In that respect Malfoy had had choices. They were hard, I couldn't deny Malfoy that. But he "chose" what to do, he had thought about it and he had rationalised it, and then he decided and acted.

"You had choices Malfoy."

"No Granger I didn't. I had option A and Option B, both of them led to destination C, my death. And you know me well enough to know that self preservation is my main concern."

"You don't know that you would have died if you had come with me, Malfoy."

"Swings and roundabouts, Granger. We can go round in circles with this argument but neither will be able to prove the other as wrong."

"So what, you took the secret back door?"

"In a sense, so, would you ever have come with me?"

"Depends, you never gave me a reason."

"Temporary insanity."

"You were never insane Malfoy."

"No, I think I was back then."

I turn to look at his face, it is shut down, a mask of indifference, but his eyes are so hard I don't argue the point. But I can't let him win that way. We were all insane during the war. We all lost a part of ourselves during that year that we can never get back. Ron, Harry, me, we changed as people, better or worse? I can't say but different none the less. He wants to talk about this, let him talk. He wants to drudge this all up, and dissect it till all the pieces lay scattered on the ground. Fine, but I need more, I need the truth.

"I don't count that as a reason."

"Fine, have it your way."

That's it I think, he is going to leave but then he speaks.

"You were the only one that seemed to care for me Granger. Everyone else was after something. You had no reason to care and yet you did. I was scared and I thought I had needed someone to be with me, someone to keep me sane. I remember you saying you weren't a guardian angel, but you must have some sort of 'power' in you because it clicked something within me. I used to think about that kiss when I was hiding, and it brought me peace. You know, when it first happened I had wanted to pour alcohol down my mouth and set it alight just to get the taste of you from my mouth. You taste like apple, do you know that? It had helped me go to sleep. It still does in fact."

I feel his hot breath on my skin as he leans closer. His lips are nearly touching the shell of my ear. I feel cold shivers running up and down my back, exciting all my nerve endings. The hairs on the back of my neck are standing to attention to his voice. Everything around us blurs. I concentrate on the feel of him next to me, closing my eyes.

"And I thank you for that."

His last words make my chest tighten in a way I had thought unimaginable. My heart is constricting and throbbing in my rib cage. It is beating so hard, and so fast that it physically aches. He moves away from me. It is to his back that I reply. The response that comes from me is automatic; I didn't even think about it, it just comes out. It was a secret that I no longer had to keep and I was thankful for its release.

"Yes Malfoy I would have."

He stops. I fear he is going to turn to face me and a scarlet blush flushes my cheeks in embarrassment. My skin burns. What is he going to say? What am I going to say? The questions zip through my frantic mind. I can feel myself starting to panic.

In the end he doesn't, there's a pause and a sharp huff of air, and then he continues to walk away from me.

I know you're going to think I'm crazy when I say this, but I could have sworn I heard him smile.

And it makes me smile in return.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o THE END ~o~o~o~o~o~o~o