Chapter Ten
She hadn't come by his room all night. He woke in the near evening and if she had returned to the hotel, she apparently didn't want to see him.
It was okay, it was what he expected. He busied himself with packing the slow and tortuous way - a harsh way to say the muggle route. He was in the middle of folding a dress shirt when there was a sharp knock.
His heart stopped. There was only one person in which it could be. Like a man to the gallows, he opened it.
Hermione stood there, her voice hoarse and her eyes red. She must have been crying for hours, but every bit of her was somehow beautifully painful.
"Why did you do it, Draco," she asked.
"Because you need your family."
"It was none of your business," she hissed, moving past him into the room. He let the door swing close.
"I did this for your happiness, doesn't that count for something?"
She didn't respond, instead she sat on the edge of the bed, her hands on her knees. Her brown eyes shimmered with fresh tears. Draco was beginning to hate himself for what he did.
"How did it go?"
"They forgave me. But they didn't miss the scar on my neck and the one on my arm. My mom couldn't stop crying." She gripped the bed beneath her until her knuckles turned white. "It's terrible, making your mother cry."
"You didn't make your mother cry, Hermione. That's the fault of the people who..." He couldn't finish the sentence with the memory that it was his aunt that caused those scars.
He sat beside her, his hand tentatively on her back. It was a good sign that she didn't push him away.
"I wanted to do bring their memories back, but I was afraid, that's all. I was going to do it today. Why would you think this was something I wanted? Honestly, what are you after, Malfoy?"
"I told you, I want you to be happy."
She shook him away, standing in front of him, looking a tad bit mad. "You want me happy?"
Draco wiped his sweaty palms against the fabric of his jeans. He suddenly felt as if he had been punched in the gut. He had to tell her... "I love you."
Hermione swayed a little on the spot, her lips parted in bewilderment. "We've had one date."
"Two, actually. And I've known you for years. Don't act like this is a shock. How can I not?"
"Draco -"
He stood, his hands out to steady her. "Listen, Hermione, I don't expect a thing from you - not after all I've done. But I did this with the best intentions. After making so many of your years miserable I'd like to make twice of them happy."
She croaked a laugh. "I guess that is sweet. I want to hex you, but it's sweet."
Cautiously, he leaned forward, burying his face into her wild hair inhaling the sweet scent of coconut. "Does this mean I'm forgiven?"
In a terrible moment, she hesitated. Then, "only because my parents forgave me."
He kissed the part in her hair. "Is there any way I can make this up to you?"
She rested her chin on his chest, gazing up at him with a surprising loving gaze. "Yes. You can help my parents pack. They're coming back to London."
The heaviness that had weighed on him the past two days lifted. He sighed the weight out and held her tighter. "I'd love to," he lied.
"And you'll do it the muggle way," she told him, and she set about helping him unpack, starting with the half-folded dress shirt.
Inwardly, he groaned. The weight was back.