Well hello there! Long time no see! Well I'm ridiculously busy. But It's been almost a year since I last updated. So I finished off this TINY section and I'm adding it as "Chapter Nine, An Interlude". So you know my chapters are usually much longer than this. And Chapter ten will be MASSIVE. But it might take a while. So expect it around January/February and it will be well worth the wait, I promise ;). For now, enjoy this, review, and let me know if you have questions or anything. Thanks so much for the support. xx
Chapter Nine
An Interlude: Asylum
I could just pretend that you love me
The night would lose all sense of fear.
But why do I need you to love me?
If you can't hold what I hold dear?
Tori Amos - Leather
Hermione wasn't crying. She forced herself to be calm. She stood up from the chair and threw it back in line with the others along the table. She gripped the back of it with white knuckles, breathing deeply. She wouldn't let this bother her. There was no reason for it to. She had heard the word a thousand and one times in the last seven years. It was no different, especially from Draco Malfoy.
The sun was up completely now, lighting the kitchen with a soft glow. There were dust particles bouncing through the yellow hues. Less hungry than minutes ago, Hermione went into the living room and opened the shades a couple inches, hoping to get some decent light in. The calm after the storm was so beautiful. Even in the protected, charmed house, she could hear the children playing on the sidewalk.
She flopped into an oversized chair near the fireplace, her body becoming limp only a few minutes after waking. The bookshelf to her left was still fairly dusty, but she wiped off a few titles and ran her fingers over them gently. They were old, barely legible; some were novels, plays, and foreign language poetry. She sat next to them while time passed like an aging bruise. She took one out, placed it on her lap and opened to the first page. Then she stopped, closed it in anger and shoved it back on the shelf.
"Hermione?" A voice called out from the hallway. It wasn't Malfoy, but Ron.
Hermione jumped up from her hair and raced to the hall.
"Hey," Ron said. He had a light jacket on over his clothes, and his hair was disheveled.
Hermione threw her arms around his neck, relieved. "What are you doing here?" she said, her voice muffled in the hug.
"Just passing through. Mum said I should stop. How is everything?"
Ron released Hermione and she led him into the kitchen.
"Oh, fine. Nothing exciting to speak of." She turned off the coffee without even checking if it was done, just to busy her hands.
"How's the mental patient?"
Hermione's shrug was shaky. "He broods…he sleeps. Not much different than normal if you ask me," she said, her attempt at a laugh sounded like she had a sore throat.
"Are you okay? You seem…off."
Ron was looking at her with concern. Hermione hadn't realized that she began to fidget with the hem of her shirt, and her eyes raced from Ron's face to the base of the stairs. Hoping – praying that Malfoy stayed in his room and didn't want to see her. Of course, another part of her begged him to come down the stairs. She needed to read him, to know exactly what he was thinking and what had gotten a hold of him.
"Fine!" Hermione said with a bit too much excitement. "Just jittery is all. I haven't been getting much sleep – I think I'm over tired. Maybe I should rest some more…"
"Sure, then. You should go rest. I can't stay, so I'll be back again soon. Things are going better than we expected. A lot of people have been properly arrested and neighborhoods are getting cleaned up again."
"That's great, Ron. I'm really proud of you, you know." Hermione smiled, but it was shaky and lacking any self-confidence.
"I love you, you know."
"Yeah, I know."
Ron kissed Hermione on the cheek and left the way he came in.
She leaned in the doorframe for ages, watching the dust particles dance in the sunlight that filtered through the half open curtains.
"I can't do this," she whispered to herself. She took her sweater off the hook and donned it, braving the real world on the outside of Number 12 Grimmauld place.
Malfoy heard the front door shut from his hiding place on the mid-way staircase landing. He tapped his wand on the railing in impatience and frustration. Why? Why her?
He heard the interaction with Weasley; she didn't seem even remotely excited to see him. And she should have been. Because none of this should have happened. Malfoy should have known better than to kiss her, to…let himself feel.
Of course, he didn't love her. He couldn't. He had only spent a few days actually being kind to her. Sure, he had seen her grow up over the years. He couldn't deny what he said hours ago. She was intelligent, and she did cross his mind every time that he contemplated right and wrong; good and evil. He couldn't deny that when he called her a mudblood, he immediately regretted it. He couldn't deny the twisting in his gut when Weasley came through the door, professing his love. These things were all true. But love? He wasn't sure he even knew the word. He didn't know if he had ever seen it in his life. Surely not from his father. Maybe…just maybe from his mother. Once or twice when he was very young. But those memories were all a fuzzy blur now, replaced by the dark mark, Voldemort' s menacing eyes in the distance of all his dreams.
He never wanted any of it.
Hermione apparated and found herself in Godric's Hollow. She walked through the warm, comforting village, into a coffee shop. Taking a seat, she ordered a coffee and muffin to nibble on.
People passed, couples, children, lonely elderly women. Hermione watched them. They smiled; they laughed. The sun was bright after the previous night's storm. She assumed a few power-lines were down in the muggle-inhabited parts of the area. But Godric's Hollow was alive and well. She glanced down the road through the window, to Harry's old house, which was still a landmark. Briefly she thought of him, before her thoughts landed on Ron.
Ron. Who had so professed his love for her again. And she did love him, of course she did. And even though her heart did back flips when Malfoy kissed her, and even though the mere sight of him had her nervous and childlike, and even though the idea of something dark and mysterious excited her to no end…it wasn't possible. Draco Malfoy didn't have the capacity to love. Especially her. Especially a mudblood.
She didn't even want him to try.
