Disclaimer: duduuudurutu. Latest news: The author of Beneath Your Window turns out to be JK Rowling, and is pulling in tons of cash from the piece posted on fanfiction . net. And it is truly... oh wait. My bad.
Chapter 8 / The Talk
Why did he always have to be right? He was an infuriating, arrogant moron; Someone she would rather have been dropped in a crate of blastended skrewts than befriend. Yet here she was, finding herself in a position where his friendship seemed to matter more than most other things in her life. And he was right. That's what infuriated her more than anything.
It was only a few hours ago that they entered their respective houses after their drink at the Wizard's Pub, and the conversation they had endured was still driving her crazy. It was driving her mad that she couldn't even make herself believe her own argument. And she knew he was absolutely right. If he was her friend, she should trust him. She should be able to tell him why she had come here in the first place, why her life was such a mess.
But the problem was that she didn't want to. Their competitiveness and their urge to always be better than each other still clung to her mind like a damp cloth. If she admitted this to him, it was some sort of defeat. She had failed. She had failed in her relationship, and it was a victory to him. It was always a victory for him to see her go down. At least that's how it had been, and she couldn't quite shake the thought.
She supposed it was yet another one of those things in change. Another one of those things she didn't quite want to acknowledge, just because she clung to what was normal and what she felt was right. Why weren't things clean cut anymore? It was so much easier when she wasn't supposed to care. And it was definitely easier when she wasn't supposed to trust him.
Hermione watched the rain fall outside. It trickled down the windows and blurred the view of the outside, of his house. She sighed, not knowing what to do anymore. A sudden tap on the window woke her from the consuming thoughts and she rose from the chair she resided in. She could see the faint outline of an owl perched outside her window and she hurried over to let the soaked animal inside. Confused at the foreign owl, she reached out and took the roll it had attached to its leg.
Before she could unroll it herself, it did so on its own and she recognised the logo of the Daily Prophet. The pages of the newspaper suddenly began flipping on their own, and eventually came to a halt in the entertainment section. Hermione furrowed her brow in confusion until her eyes suddenly stopped on a picture at the top right of the page. Ron smiled charmingly at her from the newspaper resting on her dresser, before he turned back towards a stunning blonde wearing a tight, red dress. She waved at the camera before saying something to Ron, who laughed appreciatively.
Hermione wanted to scream. This was the woman she had been traded for. This magnificent creature of blonde hair and legs going on forever. Who had sent her this? Who had wanted for her to suffer knowing she could never in a million years measure up to Ron's new girlfriend? Tears threatened to spill as she took in the brilliant smile and gorgeous, clear blue eyes the beauty fixed lovingly on Ron.
A small sob escaped her lips as she wrapped her arms protectively around her own less-than-perfect frame. She wasn't tall, she wasn't slender and she didn't have a face worthy a cosmetics ad. In fact, she was on the short side, and rather more curvy than she liked to admit. But she had never really doubted herself, she had never felt inadequate or uncomfortable in her own skin... until now.
The large ornamental clock above the fireplace told her it was almost midnight, but she couldn't care less. Grabbing the newspaper in her fisted hand she bolted towards the door and flung it open, not bothering to throw her cloak on. The rain whipped mercilessly against her face mixing with her tears, but she just ran down the pathway and threw the gate open. Once on the road she turned right immediately and entered onto his lawn. She had never been on his premises. He had always been the one to come to her, but it was time for the connection to work both ways.
Before she could change her mind, she reached out her free hand and banged on his door. Her hair was beginning to stick to her face, the heavy rain working hard on drenching her, even if she'd only been outside for a few minutes. She could hear his steps moments before the door was pulled open and he stood face to face with her tear-stained features. His eyebrows shot up into a surprised expression, but she didn't speak. She just held out the newspaper before wrapping her arms around herself and did everything to avoid his gaze. He furrowed his brows at her behaviour, but stepped aside and let her enter.
Even in her state she noticed that the house was tastefully decorated. She wondered briefly if he had done it himself, but realised he must have... he had cut all contact with the people back in London afterall. She turned her attention towards him as his eyes fell to the newspaper she had trust into his hands. His eyes widened slightly as his mouth formed into a understanding 'oh'. His concentration lingered on the picture a moment longer before his eyes rose and met hers.
"Sit," he finally said, gesturing towards one of the large chairs by the fire.
She gave a half smile, or at least that's what it was supposed to be, before sliding into the surprisingly comfortable chair. She allowed herself to relax into it in front of the creaking fire. He had obviously been seated in the other chair, she noticed, as a book was resting on the armrest and a small glass of some alcoholic beverage sat on the table between them.
He lowered himself into the chair and put the book carefully down onto the floor below. Seeming lost in thought he brought the glass up to his lips and she was momentarily absorbed in his surprisingly rosy lips. Then her eyes fell to the newspaper still clutched in his other hand and she came crushing back to reality.
"That's the girl he had in my bed," she said in a frighteningly calm voice.
While it had probably been expected after seeing the picture, the comment still seemed to rattle his cool demeanor somewhat. His head whipped towards her, a look of shock flashing in his eyes before they remained their calm grey yet again.
"I competed against that without knowing it for 6 months. Well, we probably competed longer. She's just been winning for 6 months," she laughed bitterly.
As she stared into the flames she knew he would give her the chance to speak her mind. It calmed her to know he wouldn't be asking any tricky questions...at least not yet.
"I was such a fool. I thought everything was alright, that we were doing great. Or at least I wanted to think that." She looked down into her lap and fiddled with the hem of her shirt. "We'd been trying to get pregnant for a few months when I found out. Another test had come back negative just a few days earlier. He told me... that he didn't love me anymore and that when he found out I wasn't pregnant he was relieved."
She gave a bitter laugh. "I suppose I am the one who's relieved now. Being pregnant in all this mess would probably have pushed me over the edge."
He was just staring into the flames now, but she could tell from the way his lips pursed together that he was listening intently.
"It's been hard enough to come to terms with the fact that I've been living a lie for so long. I guess it has dawned on me that things weren't perfect before the affair started either, but it's so hard to let go of something that's been a part of your life since...forever."
She sighed, not wanting to think of all the years they had been so happy together.
"I felt so rejected. Like I wasn't good enough for him, and I've never had any reason to feel like that before with anything. It's completely new to me, and it's hard to handle. And then I see that picture. I see that perfect woman smile lovingly at him, and I can't even understand why he didn't dump me sooner. How could I ever compete?"
"Did you look this up?" he asked suddenly, gesturing towards the picture in the paper.
She shook her head slowly. "It was delivered to me by owl just now."
He looked quite perplexed at this.
"What kind of heartless idiot would send me this?" she asked in a hushed voice.
"I don't know," he replied, giving a heavy sigh. "Maybe someone who thought you didn't know."
"How could I not if he took this girl to some event?"
He didn't reply to that, he merely gave a tiny nod and stared ahead for a short moment.
"Look, I'm no saint," he suddenly said, a lopsided smile appearing on his lips. "I'm not going to lie... I've cheated before. But I've never been in a serious relationship, and I have never given anyone the pretense of anything being serious between us."
She nodded, having guessed that he wasn't exactly the image of an angel.
"This whole thing disgusts me, to be honest. You were trying to have a family, for Merlin's sake," he exclaimed, sounding more infuriated than she had expected. "But infidelity is often a consequence of something else, and chances are your relationship was already on rocky ground."
He let these words sink in, and saw her bite her lip as she sighed.
"He's moving on, and so should you. You've been treated badly, but that doesn't mean everyone will be the same. In the end, I strongly believe it's his loss."
"Yeah right. He's the one prancing around with the busty, blonde miracle."
"Granger, those girls are empty shells ... most of them anyway. They couldn't carry a conversation if their lives depended on it, and all their lives center around is being pretty. Believe me, I've met my share."
"Probably shagged your share too," she challenged, raising her eyebrow mockingly.
He chuckled at her nerve. "Not as many as you'd think."
"I should have come to you sooner," she admitted after a moment of silence.
"Can't argue with that."
She shot him a vile look, but he seemed to have fallen thoughtful. Inclining her head slightly she watched his face as he was lost in his own world. When he awoke and noticed her looking he gave a mischievous grin.
"Allow me..." he said, and rose from his chair.
She watched him in wonder, wondering what he was up to, and then gave a small laugh when he threw the newspaper into the fire.
"Look at it as a ritual," he told her as he took his seat again. "As you're burning the picture of your ex boyfriend and his new girlfriend, you can let go of all this nonsense about not being good enough."
"Who says it's nonsense?" she asked, feeling rather indignant that he just disregarded her feelings.
"I do," he retorted back, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. "You are a lot of things, Granger. You're annoying, know-it-all, pretentious, overbearing and disgustingly obedient, but if there's something you've never been it's inadequate."
She gave him an incredulous look, uncertain at how to interpret this speech.
"Oh, come on," he laughed. "You were at the top of our class from day one. Heck, I'm willing to bet Hogwarts has yet to see anyone with your academic record and skills. You got an internship with Severus Snape. He wouldn't even give one to me, his godson."
"You're his godson?" she asked in surprise. No one had ever known that, not even as they worked together in the time of war.
"I am, but that's besides the point. You're disgustingly good, Granger. The thought that you should be considered not good enough for something is completely laughable."
"I can't be good at everything," she spat back, feeling a bit defensive. She wasn't as obnoxiously perfect as he tried to portray her. "When it comes to relationships I'm pretty much an amateur. All I've ever experienced is one date with Viktor Krum and then there's Ron."
"Well, what do you do when you don't know something?"
She hesitated for a second. "Research it? Try to figure it out and teach it to myself?"
"Exactly," he smirked.
"Are you saying I should...date?" she asked in a small voice.
He laughed loudly at this. "You say that as if it was the worst thing in the world."
"Well, to me it is. I don't know anything about dating. Or guys. Let alone what is expected of me."
"Which is exactly why you should figure it out," he told her smartly.
"I'm not dating."
"Suit yourself," he smiled, stretching out in the chair and planting his feet on the fireplace.
She looked at him for a second and shook her head incredulously. She was not having this conversation with Draco Malfoy. Life was absurd.
"Well... thanks for listening," she said awkwardly, and when he nodded in reply she turned rose from her seat and left him by the fire.
It felt undeniably strange to be in a friendly relationship with Draco Malfoy, yet the transition wasn't as difficult as she would have imagined. Perhaps it was the fact that the two of them were hiding out in a small town, away from all their previous influences. In the halls of Hogwarts or the Ministry, it would perhaps have been more difficult to start a friendship, but as the neighbours Hermione Granger and Draco 'Mason' it was frighteningly natural
She often found herself leaning over the hedge as he worked on his garden, and she would tease him light heartedly about his obsession with the small patch of lawn. Sometimes he would tease her right back, other times he would play along and often he ignored it and turned the conversation onto other tracks.
Once she felt done with teasing him about his 'homosexual tendencies' – as she so preferred to call it – he would take a break from his work, sitting down next to her at her table where she had of course already installed some sort of drink depending on the weather.
Their friendship was so normal it could without a doubt be called abnormal, considering who the participants were. She knew no one would believe her if she ever told them that she spent her days drinking lemonade and chatting with Draco Malfoy about the odds and ends of life. And they would be even more surprised to learn that the two of them were not quite as different as first believed. There were a number of things they agreed on, a number of books they both enjoyed, a number of people they both lived to insult once they were out of earshot.
It filled her with a sort of eerie peace, this new routine of theirs. It was like being in an alternate universe where the war was a sordid fairy tale and rivalry had never even surfaced at all. She smiled as she remembered the Polaroid photo stuck on the door of her fridge. It had suddenly made its appearance one day after she came back from the store, and she had doubled over laughing when she noticed what it was. Somehow, he had managed to capture her in a very unfortunate moment where here face was screwed up in an annoyed frown and her entire body was still glowing marvelously green. She was also, for some reason, stomping around on the floor. The picture's caption read I always knew you were a Slytherin deep down. Those small, yet significant moments filled her life as Draco Malfoy's neighbour. There was no life or death anymore. No searing scars, horcruxes or prophecies. It was just silly inside jokes, small town life and uneventful days passing by in a comfortable haze.
But she should have known that her life was rarely uneventful and comfortable for long. She had found her comfort zone as Draco Malfoy's friend, but circumstances were pulling her out of it. Actually, Miranda Alm was pulling her out of it quite effectively.
"I couldn't help but notice you've figured things out," she commented as Hermione was sitting with her on her front porch one lazy afternoon.
She nodded slowly. "It all came together somehow. It's a bit strange."
"It seems pretty natural to me," the plump lady said with a wide smile as she watched him cutting her tall hedge.
"We've just never been friends before."
"I could never have guessed. You look very comfortable together."
"I suppose we are," Hermione admitted reluctantly, giving a careful smile.
Their conversation was cut short as he straightened up, run his hand through his damp hair and moved towards them. He let out a heavy sigh and fell into the chair opposite her.
"Making me cut the hedge in this heat... slave driver."He huffed with a mock-indignant glare at Miranda. She just rolled her eyes at him and poured him a glass of newly made pumpkin juice.
"Now you know how house-elves feel," Hermione told him, seeing her chance to speak someone else's cause.
He groaned loudly and smacked his hand over his eyes. "No, anything but the house elf speech."
"Elfish welfare is important," she said indignantly, crossing her arms over her chest. "They can't speak up for themselves, so someone has to do it. Their working hours are horrible, and not to mention the lack of pay."
"Yes yes yes. Spew is grand, Spew is great. If I give my house elf a sock he'll run off into la-la land dancing on rainbows and grant everyone he meets three wishes."
Hermione glared at him and opened her mouth to retort hotly.
Miranda quickly realised Hermione's over-enthusiasm for the cause, and broke in before the S.P.E.W enthusiast could make her point.
"I talked to Ella the other day," she said, louder than she honestly needed to.
"You talk to Ella every day," he retorted with his eyebrow raised.
"Technicalities," she brushed off, waving her hand dismissively. "My point was that I heard she set you up with the only one of her daughters you have yet to date."
He laughed loudly at this, shaking his head. "The woman never does give up."
"Lola is a very fine young woman," Miranda proclaimed proudly. "A very accomplished witch, very beautiful and magnificently bright for her age."
"So I've heard," he nodded. "I'm sure I will enjoy our dinner immensely."
Hermione tensed in her seat. He had actually said yes? He was going to have dinner with this bright and beautiful Lola? She wanted to retch just hearing the name. The name alone spoke such volumes of what an airhead this was bound to be, and she supposed that was just his type. That woman he could manipulate without her asking a single critical question. She glared at him just at the thought.
"You would be such a cute couple," Miranda fawned, giving his arm a slight pat. "She's blonde too, not quite as blonde as yourself, but you would look marvelous together."
Hermione's head snapped towards the older lady. That was the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard. Like you could ever base a relationship on sharing the blonde gene. She wanted to puke right into the woman's begonias, that's what she wanted to do. And then she would wipe out every blonde woman from planet earth. Yes, good plan. Very good plan indeed.
A/N:
Hey all :D Thanks for all the great reviews, I love reading them; what you think about the fic, how your percieve the characters, etc. So .. thanks a million! And feel free to leave whatever you wish on this chapter too ;)
To answer some of the ones I got for the previous chapter:
AurorWriter: Thanks for the review, I really appreciate it. As for the town, I don't have a specific one I modelled it after, at least not to my conscious knowledge. For all I know I might have seen one somewhere and it's been in the back of my my mind just lying there. But I can't point to any specific town, no.
Actually, I'm Norwegian, so my portrayal of a typical Northern English town is probably not all that accurate. I was re-reading a chapter earlier and I saw the line "the sun still barely visible over the mountains" or something similar, and I went hey... does England even have that many mountains? :P It's just one of those things that are really natural for me, in my setting, but I don't actually know if it'd be as natural in England.
Pstibbons: Yes, Hermione definitely needed and still needs time, and as this chapter shows, I also believe she just needed that final push. And she doesn't have much to lose by trusting him, but it's one of those situations where it's hard to let go of the past and former opinions. It is rather confusing to see someone change that much, and since she hasn't met him in 4 years it's an abrupt change to her, even if it's been gradual for him.
I haven't actually specified Snape's location, but he'll probably show up somewhere along the line. We'll see if he fits in. :P
