Hermione stormed into the flat after her interview some days later, angrily pouring herself a glass of water, which she downed in a single gulp. She tossed her things into her room and walked back to the kitchen, sitting down the read the Prophet.
She found herself so emotional, however, that she threw away the paper with a huff. Burying her head in her arms, she suddenly felt so hopeless. How was it that other people could get jobs, and actually keep them? Let alone successful jobs. She often wished she'd achieved her Hogwarts diploma. Damn war forcing her away from school.
Things would have just been easier. She was sure of it. And instead, she went to interviews where creepy old men named Horace asked if she'd ever had experience escaping out of handcuffs, for Merlin's sake!
She sighed, fighting back a sudden urge for a strong glass of firewhiskey. But it wasn't even noon yet.
She wanted Draco. It hit her out of nowhere, so strong that her mind was sent reeling. She just wanted him there with her, to sit and assure her that she could find a job. And that she was worth more than twenty galleons a "show."
To ridicule the entire prospect with her, to hold her tight and remind her that she didn't have nothing.
Pushing the gathering of overpowering emotions delicately to the back of her mind, she set out to make a sandwich. After the old Muggle toaster she'd bought failed to pop in time, burnt her bread, and after she'd put out the fire she sunk back into her seat, defeated.
She thought again about that glass of firewhiskey.
She took a conspicuous glance towards the cabinet. Just one glass couldn't do much but calm her nerves, she decided.
She quickly poured herself a glass, walking it back over to the table. She jumped as she heard a tapping sound, slamming it down hard, spilling some liquid over the edges.
It was only an owl. Hedwig, to be exact. She let the owl in, giving her a treat, and Hedwig quickly flew off again, obviously not keen to wait for a reply.
Hermione read the letter with mounting disbelief, oppressing the need to burn it in the fire once she'd finished. She was angrier still to feel tears brimming in her eyes. She sunk to the couch, feeling utterly lost. She stood after a moment's hesitation, before retrieving her glass of alcohol and bringing it with her, falling into the sofa once more, staring at nothing in particular.
This was how Draco found her, hours later when he arrived home from St. Mungo's. Upon seeing her red eyes, he sat next to her, wrapping his arms around her. She buried her head in his shoulder, he kissed her hair before pulling back, meeting her gaze.
"What happened?" he asked, concerned.
She nodded roughly towards the table and he saw the letter, skimming it briefly, his eyes narrowing as he read it.
Hermione,
Ron and I have been discussing things these past days, and we've come to a conclusion. We never see you anymore. Not that we mean to taunt you in any way, but you've been without a job for a while now, and we can't help but wonder how you're getting on. We aren't too sure what's actually happening with you and Malfoy, but it seemed at dinner the other night that the two of you were hardly speaking. Hermione, you know we'll always be here for you when you need us, and if you'd like to move back in, the offer is still open. At least until you can get your life back on track. Before you become indignant, know that we have you in our best interests when we say this, but we do know you better than he does, and if it comes to it, we'd hope for you to remember that.
Sincerely,
Harry and Ron
He pursed his lips, folding the letter into a tidy square several times until it was nearly vanished, before he tossed it into the fire.
"What a joke," he stated, glancing at her. She just stared miserably at the momentary flare in the flames.
"They've done some insensitive things before," she replied, sighing. "But this, I'm not sure I can take."
He nodded, taking her hand in his.
"You do know that I'd rather have you living here and spending my money in sprees than living there with a job, right?" He asked softly and she nodded, leaning into him, eyes shut tightly. When her eyes opened again he noticed how strained she looked, how heavy her eyelids seemed.
"I didn't take that job," she said, biting her lip nervously.
"Right, did you find out what it was for?" he asked curiously. She smiled grimly.
"Oh yes, I did." She proceeded to fill him in on every sludgy detail, his expression that of disbelief.
"Are they allowed to advertise jobs like that in the Prophet? If that can even be termed a job," he added thoughtfully.
"I suppose so, as long as no one actually knows what it's for. And when you're just a upper-class version of a pimp, you can do whatever the hell you want." Her eyes were dull.
"I'm sorry you had such a bad day," he said in a low voice, leaning in to her.
"I've had worse." She fell silent and he did as well, content with the feel of her in his arms.
"Draco?" she asked some time later, looking up at him.
"Mhm?" he asked, tightening his grip on her.
"Thanks." She spoke so quietly he would have had to strain to hear if he wasn't already so enraptured.
He wondered how this had all happened. How he had gotten her.
"Don't mention it."
What sort of sick trick of fate this was, to align the two of them so closely, in so direct a path.
For him to feel so strongly towards one thing in his life, to have a complete, overwhelming belief that this was correct, this was what he'd been waiting for. Somehow, through twenty-three years of confusion and indecision and pure indifference, he'd found that the answer was simple... Hermione Granger.
He exhaled deeply, looking over at her once more. She turned to see what he was looking at, her lips quirking into the tiniest smile.
Hermione could tell something was up. Draco's eyes were glazed over, so much that she couldn't really tell if he was even looking at her or past her. His lips were parted slightly, and feeling adventurous, she leaned in to taste them.
Placing her hands on the back of his neck, she pressed her lips to his softly, and though it was warm outside and the fire was going, she wasn't prepared for the course of heat and energy through her in such a complete way.
He kissed back and she had never felt more alive.
-
He murmured something unintelligible into her hair.
"What was that?" she asked, smiling. He swallowed heavily with some difficulty.
"It doesn't matter," he replied uneasily.
"Sure it does," she teased.
"Just forget about it." His eyes flashed. She laughed, allowing him to win for the time being.
Hermione snuck up behind him with her wand. She wrapped one arm around his waist from behind, placing the tip of her wand to his temple.
Standing on her toes, she leaned in to whisper in his ear.
"Draco," she drawled in a tone similar to his own. "Going to tell me what you said?"
"Like you'd do anything," he taunted, smirking.
"Don't test me," she said under her breath. "I believe you know what I'm capable of."
In one swift move he had reached up to grab her wand, pointing it away from himself and spun around to face her.
"Now what?" he asked menacingly and she laughed excitedly, pulling out of his grip to run away, leaving her wand behind with him.
"Tell me what you said," she said once she had stopped, safe on the other side of the room.
"Why should I? I've got the wand." He twirled it absently in his fingers. She walked back over, assessing him with her eyes.
"Sure, you have my wand. The wand won't sleep with you though, will it?" Her eyes twinkled and he handed over the wand.
"Must you use that against me so often?" he asked, defeated.
"Yes. Now tell me what you said."
He stared at her, eyes alight for the first time in weeks, and he suddenly felt a great number of reservations and fears. But she wasn't going to give up, he knew. He realized he didn't want her to give up.
"I said I love you." He blurted it too quickly, too anxiously to have expected her to hear. Yet she had.
"Did you?" The smile faded from her face, replaced with a frown, her eyebrows furrowed. "Why?"
"Because it's the truth." His expression was unguarded, and his insecurity bled through his practiced indifference. His Hogwarts self would have been ashamed.
"Draco," she sighed, running a hand through her unruly hair. "You can't mean that."
He suddenly felt indignant.
"But I do, Hermione, and I've realized, I've never felt anything so strongly, been so sure of one thing before in my life."
He felt like he needed to tell her everything, and be entirely honest with her. Because if he couldn't be honest with her, what sort of chance would he ever have at life.
"Hermione, you knew me when I was sixteen. That was seven years and a lifetime ago. And I've spent all of those seven years trying to figure out something, anything that could allow me just a bit of truth and clarity."
His grey eyes connected with her brown ones, closed off to him.
"Draco, I told you," she said, sounding exasperated. "Remember? Way back, when we got together. I told you this wouldn't work. We were destined to fail."
His heart dropped into his intestines.
"What do you mean?" he asked. This had to be some sick nightmare.
"I told you, emotion just doesn't work with me." She frowned. "Draco, please, don't love me."
"It doesn't work like that," he replied darkly.
"If you actually care that much about me," she said, tone filled with desperation, "maybe I should go."
"God no, Hermione." This was all going so, so wrong. "You aren't seventeen anymore."
He stepped toward her, resting his forehead on hers, relieved when she didn't move away.
"Just because you allow yourself to give a shit about something doesn't mean you're going to lose it," he whispered, eyes closed.
"You don't know that," she hissed, pulling away from him. "Your friends that were killed in the war, you didn't love them, Draco. Your parents too, you didn't love them because they didn't love you."
He blinked, suddenly feeling the blow of her words.
"Draco, when Harry was nearly killed in the battle, I had so many doubts that I could even continue on. I kept thinking the worst, and I knew I couldn't handle if he didn't make it. I tried so hard to be my usual self, and to convince myself that I could cope," she was whispering, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. She angrily wiped them away. "I care about you, Draco, which is why I'm doing this. You don't deserve this."
"I don't deserve you, Hermione. I need you in my life, I know that," he said, heart breaking with each word she spoke. "And I know this can work if you only allow your heart to be unlocked."
"I'm sorry," she shook her head. "You're wrong, this is how it just needs to be." The tears were flowing from her eyes freely now. "I'm going to go to Harry's now, please don't try to reach me."
And before he could comprehend the sickening crack of his heart, the one that was so strong and so painful that he wanted to vomit, she was gone. He was left, alone, to wonder just what had happened to her, and how he'd gotten himself in so deep along with her.
-
Draco let out a deep breath as his owl flew back into the flat, its letter untouched. This was the twelfth time he'd tried to contact her in the week since she'd left, and each time she hadn't even read his letters.
"Tough luck man," Blaise said, walking into the room with a sandwich. Blaise had taken it upon himself to spend the majority of his time in the flat, keeping Draco company.
"Let me borrow your owl, Blaise," Draco muttered, ignoring his friend's words. "Maybe if she doesn't know it's from me she'll open it."
"Took you that long to realize?" Blaise joked.
"Shut up and lend me your owl." Draco's eyes flashed dangerously. Blaise called his owl and it flew into the room, settling itself precariously on the arm of the chair Draco was sitting in. He removed the letter from his own owl, giving it to the other and sending it off.
Within twenty awkwardly tense minutes, the owl flew back into the flat, holding a reply firmly in its claws. It hooted joyfully as it handed Draco the letter.
"What'd she say?" Blaise asked with interest, finishing a tall glass of juice.
"It says 'Leave me alone,'" Draco murmured, falling back into his chair in defeat.
"So send a letter to Potter, get him to talk to her," Blaise suggested. Draco snorted.
"Potter and Weasley wanted her to leave me," he replied spitefully. "They definitely won't be helping."
"Well it's none of Potter's fucking business what she does, is it?" Blaise said. "Try it. Who knows?"
"I suppose it couldn't hurt," the blond admitted, drawing a fresh piece of parchment and quill towards him. He quickly scribbled a letter to Harry in the kindest words he could manage, and sent it off with his owl. "This is completely not how I expected things to go with her."
"Never try to figure out women, my friend," Blaise said sagely. "They'll screw you and then your head and your heart when you aren't expecting it." Draco laughed dryly.
"Look at it this way," Blaise continued. "She can't stay holed up in Potter's apartment forever, she'll go nuts. Eventually she'll have to go somewhere, and she'll have to hope not to run into you."
"So what, I find some way to track her?" Draco looked bewildered.
"It's possible, I read about it once," Blaise said and Draco shook his head.
"That won't get me back on her good side, trying to plant some homing spell on her."
"Your loss man."
The owl flew back in and Draco nearly scrambled up for the letter.
Malfoy,
You can't reasonably expect us to help you get Hermione back. She won't even tell us what you did, so we're led to believe the worst. Which basically entails anything and everything you could have possibly done to make her hate you, all of which leaves us on her side. Move on will you? Honestly.
Harry Potter
"Fucking idiot," Draco muttered under his breath. Blaise swiped the letter from him, reading it in disgust then lighting it on fire.
"My life is officially over."
"Don't be stupid. So your life with her is over."
"Exactly. With her, without her. She was my life, Blaise." Draco tossed all of the letters into the flames, stalking off to his room.
-
"Hermione, you really need to get out. Keeping yourself inside won't do you any good. Maybe you'll even meet someone new," Ron suggested, taking a seat next to her.
Hermione sniffled at him from underneath her stack of blankets.
"I don't bloody want to meet someone new, Ron," she replied, feeling the tears come on once more. "I want to go back in time and still be with Draco."
"So what made it so much better before this happened, that couldn't be fixed now?" Harry asked, attempting to mediate between the angry brunette and the tactless redhead.
"That isn't your business," she replied, burying her head once more.
"It's our business if we're trying to help you," he threw back at her.
"Jesus Harry, not everything can be fixed with words, alright?"
"A lot of things can, Hermione." He took off his glasses, rubbing his eyes. "Merlin, if you've had your heart broken by some bloke the best thing to do is talk about it."
"He did not break my heart," she muttered, eyes narrowed. "I was not in love with him, and you obviously just proved you know nothing about it, so will you just bloody leave me alone?"
Sharing a hopeless glance, Harry and Ron stood, about to leave the room.
"For someone who wasn't in love, you're acting awfully heart-broken Herms," Ron said quietly, closing the door behind him.
When they were gone Hermione felt her eyes immediately begin to water at his words. She of all people should know if she was in love with Draco, and how dare they make assumptions about her life like that. Feeling emotions so strong, so painful like love were definitely not on her agenda, and so she didn't feel them.
Draco had merely crossed a line somewhere by falling in love with her, when she had warned him not to. How could she be responsible for that? She couldn't. And how could anyone blame her for being the unfortunate bystander in a game she hadn't wanted to play?
She really just needed some space and time alone.
