I own neither Fatal Attraction nor Grease. Unless you count the VHS copy of the edited for TV version that my mom recorded off of TBS sometime around 1995. I think it's actually on the same tape my dad used to record the play version of Grease that my brother and I were in. He did a William Shatner, spoken word version of Go Grease Lightning. It was awful, and 18 years later, I still haven't let him live it down.

Chapter 14

Lying together in bed, a movie on the television, Draco thought only of mother's day at St. Mungo's. He had yet to talk to Hermione about day's events, and wasn't sure just how to broach the topic. Instead, he watched the movie, hoping to get lost in the singing and dancing lives of American high school students.

"You reckon they really do that in schools?" he asked.

Hermione laughed. "I wouldn't bet on it," she replied. "Unless it's the school from Fame. They might really spend their days singing and dancing through the streets. I doubt American schools are like Rydell High though."

"So, um, my mother begged me not to leave her," he said, attempting to sound casual and failing. Hermione pressed the pause button on the remote and sat up to face him. If he was ready to talk, then she was ready to listen. "They're keeping her for thirty days, but that's just a preliminary estimate. If their treatments don't work, if they can't convince her that the war is over and my father is gone, then who knows how long she'll be there. I was just standing there while they asked her question after question, and she wouldn't answer any of them. She just stared at me and asked where my father was."

"What did you tell her?" Hermione wondered.

Draco shrugged. "That he was away," he said. "I never know what else to say, and she seems to accept that. So then the healer asked her where she thought 'away' was, and she accused him of being a muggle lover like her ungrateful son who's forcing her to be locked up against her will."

"You're not an ingrate," she told him, taking his hand. "She needs help. I think you're doing the right thing here."

He reached for the remote, his finger hover over the play button. "What if my father were released?" he wondered. "Do you think that would turn things around?"

"I don't know," was all she could say. "Harry didn't say anything about parole. I'm not sure it's even an option."

Nodding his head, he pressed play. In his mind, the conversation was over. But Hermione felt differently. She took the remote from him and stopped the movie once more. "What?" he asked irritatedly.

"You said he's changed," she replied. "I could ask Harry about the possibility of getting his sentence reduced."

"Whatever," he muttered, shrugged, and tried to take the remote from her again, but Hermione kept it away. "I'm not going to get my hopes up that he'll get out," he stated. "Talk to Potter, don't talk to Potter. This day has been trying enough and it's only noon. I don't want to talk about it anymore."

She got off the bed and tossed the remote to the middle of the mattress. "Fine," she muttered as she left the room. He pressed play and increased the volume, letting the sounds from the television fill the tiny flat. It was only seconds later when Hermione reappeared and turned off the set. "No. You know what? It's not fine. I was just offering to help. There was no reason for you to do what you always do."

"And what do I always do?" he demanded.

"This!" she replied. "You get sulky. You get angry. You pick a fight. I understand that what you're going through is difficult. All I'm asking is that you don't take out your frustration on me."

Sighing, he got to his feet and rounded the bed to stand in front of her. "I don't want to fight with you," he said calmly. "I'm sorry, okay?"

She nodded, but refused to meet his eye. "I'm sorry too," she told him. "I'll be down in the shop. I promised Mary that she'd have help today."

"Are we okay?" he asked, following her to the living room.

She pulled on a pair of flats and sighed. "Yeah, sure," she said tiredly. "I'll be back up in a few hours."

He nodded and watched as she prepared to leave. When the door was open, he reached for her arm to stop her. "I really am sorry," he told her. "Sometimes I don't realize what I'm doing until someone else points it out. And that's no excuse for doing it; I know that. I don't want you to walk out without you knowing how much I love you for all you've done for me. I just...I really appreciate how much you've helped."

Hermione tried to fight back a smile. "What was that again?" she asked, one eyebrow raised inquisitively.

Draco thought back to what he had just said, and a blush began to stain his cheeks. "I appreciate you?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Before that."

"I'm sorry?"

Once again, she shook her head. "No, after that."

Draco groaned. "You're not going to let me live this down, are you?" he asked.

The smile she had been biting back fell. "Did you not mean it?" she wondered.

He took her hand and drew her close. "No, I meant it...mean it," he told her. "I've, um, never said it to anyone before. We weren't exactly the most affectionate, share your feelings kind of family. I really didn't expect to be the first one to say it."

Her smile was back in place. "Say what?" she asked.

"That I love you," he finally said, receiving a kiss in return. "You're my best friend. The best girlfriend I've ever had. I'm happiest when I'm with you. I want to marry you and have a hundred babies with you. When you die, just throw me in with you. I refuse to live without you, Hermione Granger."

She laughed and pushed him away. "You're a git," she replied, though she was still thoroughly amused by his monologue.

"Wait, that's it?" he asked when she tried to leave again.

Hermione shrugged. "You snore. Very loudly," she informed him. "It's having adverse effects on my REM cycle. I'm also going to need you to put the toilet seat down when you've finished. I almost fell in the other night."

"Snoring and midnight bathroom breaks. I say I love you, and this is what you want to discuss?" he asked.

"Why? What did you want to talk about?" she wondered as naively as possible.

He pulled her to him and held her close. The seconds ticked by as he waited for her to say it, to say anything, but Hermione remained tight lipped. "I won't be ignored, Dan," he warned her.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You're not planning to buy me a rabbit, wait for me to fall in love with it, and then Fatal Attraction it, are you?" she asked. "Because you know how bothered I was by that scene."

"Are you afraid to say it?" he wondered, all pretenses of humor now gone. "I'd understand if you don't feel the same way. It's sudden, I know that, but-"

"Ron used to say it all time," she told him. "It was usually after I promised to help him with homework or because I'd very reluctantly allow him to spend the night. I never got the feeling that he really meant it."

"Do you think I don't mean it?" Draco asked, brows furrowing with concern that perhaps he hadn't sounded sincere.

Hermione shook her head. "No, I know you mean it," she replied. "I also know that despite how often we argue and annoy one another, I love you too."