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Chapter 9 –
The clock said 4:33 am. Hermione had been watching said clock for exactly sixteen minutes now. She did not know what time she fell asleep, because it was after 11:00 when they finally went to bed, they made love once more, and then Draco went to sleep. She knew she had stayed awake almost an hour after that. She finally went to sleep, but then woke up, sixteen, no, make that, seventeen minutes ago.
She could not get back to sleep because she was worried. She was worried about tomorrow, well, today, no, tonight. She was worried about tonight when they would go to the Manor. Hermione really did not want to go to the Manor. She had very bad memories of the Manor, she did not particularly like Draco's parents, and she knew the feeling was mutual. That was why she couldn't sleep. That was why she woke up eighteen minutes ago, and was still awake. She took Draco's arm off her stomach, and rolled out of bed. She went to the bathroom. After taking care of business, she went out and got Draco's list. She picked up his dirty white t-shirt on her way back to the bathroom.
She sat on the edge of the vanity and read his list again. She slipped off her gown and put on his t-shirt. One down. She really couldn't wear it all day, because she would have to wear something appropriate when she went to the Manor tonight, like a gown and a tiara, but she would wear it for a while. She did two of the things last night. She talked dirty during sex, well, in her opinion, calling his penis 'Mr. Happy' was talking dirty. She did number '7', which was to laugh at his dirty joke, which was when he called her private parts a name as well, which was really rather raunchy, but still she laughed, when her first instinct was to hit him, and she did number '11'. He told her he loved her while they had sex, and she told him afterwards that she loved him back. Not too bad. She couldn't do the 'stay in bed all day Sunday' one because they would be at the Manor Sunday, and she couldn't do the sporting event one this weekend, but she would try hard to do the rest of them.
She folded the list and looked out the window. She opened the window, even though her parents had the central air turned on. She felt restless. She closed the window and paced back and forth in the little bathroom.
Draco woke up as soon as Hermione moved his arm. He saw her go to the bathroom. He saw her come out of the bathroom to get the list he wrote, as well as his t-shirt from last night. He saw her go back in the bathroom, and she had yet to come out. He looked at the clock. It was 5:09 am. She had been in there for a really long time. Was she sick? Was she locked in? Did she fall in the toilet and drown? He threw back the covers, and put on his boxers. He went to the door and knocked.
"Hermione, are you still in there?" He knew that was a stupid question, because he hadn't seen her leave yet. He tried to open the door, but it was locked. "Are you ill?"
"Go back to bed, Draco," she said.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
She walked up to the door. "I'm fine, get some more sleep."
"Can't you sleep?" he asked.
"Please, give me some time alone. Please."
He sat on the bed. Why did she need time alone? He couldn't help but worry. He went back to the door and with his wand, he unlocked it. He walked in and saw her sitting inside the tub, with his t-shirt on, and no water. She was just sitting in an empty tub, apparently contemplating, although what she was contemplating, he didn't know.
"Draco, please, can I be alone for a moment?" she asked, looking up at him.
He couldn't help but frown. He saw his list on the sink vanity. He folded it back into an airplane and 'flew it' out the door. He climbed in the empty tub with her, facing toward her. He didn't have much room. His legs went on the outside of hers.
"What's up?" he asked.
"I'm scared," she admitted.
"What are you scared of, water?" he asked with a small chuckle.
"Your parents," she answered.
He expelled a small laugh and said, "Listen, your mum is ten times scary than Lucius during his Death Eater days. You will be fine." He knew what she meant, but he wanted to bolster her. "Don't be scared. I told you, I won't leave your side for a minute."
"They won't like me," she said. "They'll think I'm inferior to them, and not good enough for you. You already said that your father thinks I married you for your money."
"That was a joke." He lied, because his father really did say that.
"No, they won't like me," she reiterated, shaking her head.
He reached for her arms, and pulled her toward him. They sat, facing each other, in the tight, cramp tub, and he put his arms on her shoulders. "Who cares what they think? You're brave, and courageous. You were a Gryffindor, for Merlin's sake. You helped Potter with the Horcruxes. You helped fight the final battle against the Dark Lord."
"Exactly," she said. "I was tortured in the Manor by your mother's sister and your father's fellow Death Eater, because I helped Harry Potter, and because I was a Gryffindor, and because I was a Mudblood." She shrugged his hands off her shoulders and stepped out of the tub. She looked down at him and said, "I'll go there tonight, and be polite, and civil, because they're your parents, and because I love you. Nevertheless, I will never, ever, be welcomed by them, so don't delude yourself thinking otherwise. Likewise, I will never totally trust them, or forgive them. I am so very sorry. Don't hate me." She walked out of the bathroom, and went back to bed. She turned to her side, and pulled the sheet around her.
He got out of the tub and turned off the bathroom light. He stared at her for a long time from the doorway. "You need to give them a chance. They really have changed," he implored.
"I told you, I will do this, but just for you. Not for them. And I will never forget what happened in that house. I don't even know if I can spend the night there. I think I will go back to sleep, now. Goodnight, or good morning rather." She shut her eyes. She didn't want to talk about it anymore.
She knew he sat down on the bed, because she felt the weight of his body cause a sag in the mattress. He didn't touch her, or pull her to him, or anything. She wanted him to, but she understood why he didn't. She knew he was having second thoughts. He should have known she would feel this way about them, about that place, but he hadn't counted on this, and now he was having second thoughts. He probably thought they would live there someday. She would rather live in a tent for the rest of her life, than ever live there. What would she do if he no longer wanted to be married to her?
He touched her arm finally. "Granger, we don't have to go there if you don't want. We could, I mean, I could tell them that I'm sick or something. We don't ever have to go there if you don't want. I mean it."
She turned to her back. She realized that he meant it, and she began to cry.
He pulled her into his embrace. "Sh," he hushed. "It's okay now. I'm here." He would never make her do something that would cause her pain, and he could see that just the thought of going to the Manor and spending time with his parents would cause her pain. Therefore, they just wouldn't do it.
"I don't want you to have to pick me over them," she said.
"Why not? You're my wife," he said. He kissed her hair.
"But that's unfair and unkind of me," she said. "I thought you would regret marrying me, that's why I didn't tell you how I felt."
"You're so stupid sometimes," he said. He knew that wasn't the best thing to say to a crying female, but she was stupid sometimes. She had to know that he would pick her over them, any day of the week.
"We'll go, I'll be fine," she said, her tears subsiding.
"No, I don't want to go now," he told her. His hand went to her face, and she looked up at him. The room was lighter now, though it was still dark out, and she could just make out his expression, and all she saw was sincerity. Well, that and love.
She said, "I want to try. I will try, for you, because I love you as much as you love me," she said. After a while, she finally fell back to sleep. However, Draco was now wide-awake.
About an hour later, he got up to shower and get ready for the day. When he came back out to the bedroom, Hermione was once again towel drying her hair. She had gotten up right after him and took another shower in the guest bathroom. She put his t-shirt back on, and a pair of jeans. She went to her closet, and said, "I think I have some old trainers in here. I didn't pack anything but sandals and dress shoes." She walked into her closet, and that was when Draco saw it…right on the inside of her closet door.
He walked up to the closet, and pointed and said, "How the hell did that thing get back in here? I saw it burn!" On the inside of her closet was another poster, he thought the same poster, of one Mr. Justin Timberlake.
"Oh, that's just another copy of the same poster," she said. She pushed past him, sat on the bed, and started to put on her shoes.
"WHAT?" he asked.
"Yes, I had two of the same posters, so what?" she said casually. She walked out of the bedroom and said, "I need to get downstairs so I can cook your favourite meal for breakfast. I need to get started on that list. See you down there."
He stared at her retreating figure. He looked back toward the poster and said, "Before I leave here today, one of us is going, and it isn't going to be me, Mr. Pretty Boy!" He slammed the closet shut.
Hermione began to make eggs benedict. Now, she hated eggs benedict. She didn't even really know how to make it, but she knew he had once said it was his favourite breakfast, so she was going to give it a go. Her parents were early risers, so her father was already on the side porch, drinking coffee, and her mother was upstairs getting dressed. She found her mother's cookbook and looked up how to make the damn dish. It didn't seem too difficult. It was just ham and poached egg in hollandaise sauce on top of a slice of toast or a split toasted English muffin. She could handle that.
Draco came downstairs and saw her in the kitchen. "What are you making?"
"Eggs benedict," she said.
"Why?" he asked.
"It's on your list. Have the girl make you something you love to eat, even if she can't cook, which you know I can't, and even if she doesn't like it, which I don't." She had to start a third poached egg, because she was having trouble, and the first two didn't turn out well.
"I don't like eggs benedict, either," he said. "I like eggs florentine."
She turned to face him. "What?"
"Eggs florentine is what I like," he said. She frowned and picked up the cookbook. She found eggs florentine.
She read aloud, "Eggs florentine is poached eggs on a bed of spinach, topped with white sauce, and then cheddar cheese, and then baked. Damn!" She closed the cookbook. "I don't have spinach. Who likes spinach? Are you sure it's not eggs benedict that you like? It's poached eggs, too. Perhaps you're confused."
He smiled and said, "Perhaps you better go to the market and buy some spinach."
"Try the eggs benedict," she said.
"All you have made so far is the poached eggs, so just make the eggs florentine," he argued.
She frowned again. She called upstairs, "Mum, are you coming down soon?" Her mother started down the stairs.
"What is it?" she asked.
"Draco wants eggs florentine for breakfast and damn if I can make that. I really couldn't even make the eggs benedict I was going to try to make, because I had no idea how to make a hollandaise sauce, but at least it looked easier than this damn recipe." She opened the cookbook back up to the right page, and showed her mother.
"Granger, it's fine, don't bother your mother, I will just have the poached eggs," he said.
"No, Draco, if you want this, we can try to make it," her mother said.
"But I don't want it," he said back.
"Apparently you do, or Hermione wouldn't try to make it for you. Don't be bashful. We will figure this out, it's just, I'm a worse cook than Hermione is. Her father's the cook in the family." Phyllis went to the side door and yelled out for Edward.
"Edward, can you make eggs florentine?" she asked.
"Really, it's fine," Draco said, embarrassed now.
"Who the hell wants eggs florentine?" Edward asked, walking into the kitchen.
"Draco," Phyllis answered.
"Oh, well, do we have any fresh spinach?" he asked, as he looked over Hermione's shoulder, at the recipe.
"No, go to the market and get some," Phyllis said.
"I really don't want eggs florentine!" Draco insisted.
"Draco, it's no problem, so don't worry," Edward said. He saw the rubbery eggs Hermione had poached and said, "What are those?"
"I was attempting eggs benedict, because I thought that was his favourite, but he told me he would rather have the eggs florentine," Hermione explained. "Those are supposed to be poached eggs."
Draco stood up and said, "I didn't say that I would rather have eggs florentine. I just said that was my favourite! I would be happy with toast, juice, and coffee."
"These poached eggs look awful, Hermione," her father said, ignoring Draco's rant. "Who taught you how to poach an egg?"
"Mum," she answered.
"Enough said," Edward answered. "Let me go to the market and get what we need. I'll be back in a flash, and I will make breakfast for everyone." Edward grabbed the keys to his new car, and dashed out the door.
"Hermione, clean up this mess, I'm going with your father," Phyllis said. "Draco, is there any thing else I can get you while we're out? Do you want anything special for lunch?"
"I don't even want anything special breakfast, really. I would be happy with just some toast and coffee. I don't even need the juice," he answered.
"He's being polite," Hermione said. "Get some more eggs, and some brown sugar, vanilla and chocolate chips, because he wants me to make him some homemade cookies, too."
"Goodness." Leaning into her daughter, though Draco still heard, she said, "does he plan on keeping you barefoot and pregnant as well?" She walked out the door.
Hermione started to clean up the mess, and Draco sat back down in the chair and said, "I just want some coffee. I don't even need the toast."
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