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Chapter 20- Sorry:

A few days had gone by since their 'unromantic' get-a-way, and Draco was totally ignoring Hermione. The reason was clear, though he was in denial. The reason he was ignoring her was the guilt he felt over her current predicament. Until he could clear his conscience, he would continue to avoid her.

He knew he was a coward. He never pretended to be anything else, so he would not make any excuses. He did not seek her out, and he knew she would not seek out him. He knew she couldn't use her magic, so she couldn't very well apparate to his office, so he was safe from her while at work.

She had never been to his house, didn't even know where he lived, so no danger of her 'popping' in uninvited.

He didn't own a telephone.

She didn't own an owl.

It was actually quite easy to avoid her, except for one thing. It was pure agony.

He visited Adrian Pucey the next day after they came back from Hogwarts. He wanted to return the Professor's file (after copying the entire contents), and he wanted to see if Adrian could help him to locate Derek Grayson. Adrian told Draco he didn't have that kind of pull at the Ministry, and 'sorry, can't help you out, bloke'. Draco decided to take a bite of humble pie, and visit Harry Potter. While Adrian was a member of the Magical Law Enforcement Team, Potter was an Auror. Why ask Adrian, when Potter was the better choice. That was like asking a poodle to guard your valuables, when you knew a German shepherd who could do the job. Potter had unlimited resources, and that bloody scar to back him up.

Harry agreed to meet Draco, at the very same café Draco meet Hermione a month ago. Had it really been a month? When Potter walked in, Draco nodded his head in acknowledgment.

"Malfoy," Harry said curtly, sitting down. He did not offer the man his hand.

"Potter," Draco responded in kind. He didn't want to shake Potter's hand anyway.

"I don't have all day, spit it out, Malfoy," Harry spat.

"Never one for niceties, are you, Potter? Fine, I need a favour. I need you to find a man for me. His name is Derek Grayson, he's a wizard, would be about 61 years old. This is a picture of him, from long ago." Draco brought one of the old photos out of his pocket, and scooted it across the table. "I believe he might have gone to the Dewey Institute. If you remember, his name was on the chalkboard along with Granger's and Agnes Abernathy's names."

"The chalkboard from the school that collapsed and almost killed my best friend, that chalkboard, Malfoy?" Harry asked, sarcastically.

Draco was fuming. How dare Potter bring that up? "Yes," he responded, remaining cool on the outside.

"Why?" Potter asked, as he leaned back in his chair.

"I think you know why," Draco said. "This will help someone for whom we both care deeply."

"And who could we both possibly care for, Malfoy?" Potter asked. He was making this hard on Draco.

"Well, I don't mean Weasley, you stupid wanker," Draco said. "For Fuck's sakes, Potter, you know who I mean."

Harry sat upright again, pushed the picture back toward Draco, and stood up. "Hermione already asked me to find him, and I have, and we will go talk to him together, her and I. No one needs your help, Malfoy. Of course, if you weren't such a bloody fool, and if you were in communication with her, you would know all of this right now."

Draco stood as well, "When did she ask you to find him?"

"Two days ago. Again, if you weren't on the outs, you would know that. Not that I'm complaining, mind you. I prefer it when you two aren't talking. Just leave her alone. Now, I have to get back to work. Don't call me again." Harry turned to leave, but Draco took his arm. Harry looked at Draco's hand on his arm, and said, "Remove your hand, or lose it. It's your choice."

Draco removed his hand. He said, "First, Potter, we aren't on the outs, we're fine. Second, don't presume to threaten me. That would be a mistake on your part."

Harry glared at him and said, "So, you aren't avoiding her? You aren't treating her like a piece of dirt on your shoes? You didn't take her away for a weekend, have sex with her, and then not contact her? She has lied to me about all of that, I suppose. All the tears she's shed over you, on my shoulder, have all been a scam? You haven't thrown her out like yesterday's rubbish? Gee, if I've maligned your character, well, I don't give a shite. Goodbye, Malfoy, leave her the hell alone. No one treats my friends poorly, and then expects a favour from me."

Draco said, "You don't know what you are talking about, Potter."

"No, I do know, I just don't care. By the way, your property is no longer seized, so you are welcome to it. All dark traces of magic have been removed. Bill Weasley told me to tell you he no longer works for you, and in case you're wondering, our investigation showed that the school was cursed to collapse that day specifically when Hermione entered, which means, you are my prime suspect. Good day." Harry Potter left an utterly confused Malfoy in the café. Draco had to go see Hermione.

Draco was concerned. Did Hermione think all the things that Potter said? Did she think that he slept with her and then tossed her aside? How dare she think that of him! It wasn't everyday that Draco Malfoy told a woman he loved her. Had she told Potter that they made love, and afterwards, he pushed her to the curb? Because, that wasn't the truth, was it?

It was the truth. Damn all things to Hell! Had she told Potter that Draco left her to her own defenses and she was hurt by that man outside The Three Broomsticks?

Had she told Potter about the fight they had that night in her apartment?

When they arrived back at her flat that Saturday night, Draco was still famished. Stupid Weasley was asleep on her sofa, with Pippin sleeping on his chest. Hermione walked up to Ron and shook his shoulder, as Draco went to sit in a chair.

"Ron, wake up. You can go home now," Hermione said.

Ron sat up and said, "Is it Sunday yet?" The witless Red-head stood up and stretched, and then rubbed his eyes.

"No," Hermione began, "its still Saturday. We came back early. Hogwarts was a dead-end."

"McGonagall didn't help you?" Ron asked.

"More like she couldn't help us," Hermione reasoned. "She couldn't reveal anything to us, but she did give us the Professor's old school file. We'll just have to find another way, I guess."

Ron embraced her and stroked her hair, which caused Draco to cringe. Draco stared at the two, and he felt left out, jealous, and something else, which was harder to define. He felt like he was imposing.

Ron said, "Don't worry, Hermione, Harry and I will help you restore your magic. Look at all the times your magic helped us in the past. We wouldn't have survived to adulthood without it." Ron laughed and so did Hermione. "By the way, where did the git go?"

"The git is over here, Weasel," Draco said, from his place in the chair.

Hermione stifled another laugh; Ron shrugged, and kissed her forehead. "I love you, and I'll talk to you later, Hermione. Bye, git." Ron said, waving to Draco. He disapparated away.

Draco wanted to scream. How dare he tell Hermione he loved her! Draco stood up and said, "How nice that he's allowed access to just apparate in and out of your home, Hermione." Draco's mood was foul, due to his lack of nourishment, and his dislike of Hermione's friends.

"May I remind you, you also have that pleasure," Hermione said.

Draco moved from the chair over to the sofa. He purposely put both feet on her coffee table and said, "How considerate of you, and how convenient as well, all your little boyfriends can come and go as they please, anytime of the day or night, and I suppose that included your bosses, as well as Scarhead."

Hermione sat beside him and said, "And Marcus." Hermione gave him a scathing look. He wasn't the only one in a foul mood.

"Marcus? That bugger? You hardly know him well enough for him to come and go as he pleases!" Draco placed his feet firmly back on the floor.

"I think that's my business, not yours. He's even had his feet on my coffee table," she said with ire.

"He wouldn't dare!" Draco said, standing. "That better be a lie!"

Hermione stood and said, "You are insane. You act like putting your feet on the coffee table is a euphemism for having sex!" Hermione put her hand on his arm and said, "What in the world is wrong with you tonight?"

Draco removed her arm and yelled, "I'm hungry!" If only it was that easy, and that simple.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione said, "I'll fix us something to eat."

"Don't bother. I'll grab something at home," Draco said, pushing past her.

"Does that mean you're leaving?" she asked anxiously. "I thought you said you would stay tonight."

"Why should I?" he asked, "It's not like your wards will let in any man you don't want in, so you don't need my protection."

"I didn't want you to stay for protection. I can protect myself. I wanted the company," she reasoned.

"Call one of your other friends, I'm tired, and I have a headache," he complained.

"Are we back to being just friends, Malfoy?" she asked quietly. "I thought we had this conversation a long time ago. I don't think of you as a friend. Please, tell me why you're so angry with me. What did I do wrong? Is this because I ruined our dinner? I already apologized for that."

He didn't respond. He didn't know what to say without appearing to be a bigger bastard than he already was.

"Please, tell me," she urged.

"I'm just hungry, Hermione!" he shouted. Lies, lies, lies.

"Go eat and come back," she implored. "Or, I could go with you, to your house," she urged.

"I told you, I'm tired as well. I have to go," Draco said, moving toward the center of the room. "I'll contact you in a few days." He wasn't lying at that point; he did have a massive headache. His guilt was weighing on him like an anchor around his neck, causing him to drown in his own lies. Breathing was becoming difficult. Looking at her was even difficult.

He wanted to run away and never face her again. He WAS a coward.

She sat down on the sofa and didn't say another word to him. He looked at her once more, and then left.

That was four days ago. He didn't know why he blamed her for his guilt. Even he knew that was wrong. Why should he make her feel bad? Why hurt her?

After Potter left him in the café, Draco apparated to her apartment. He was surprised that her wards still allowed him entry, but of course, she could not change them now, since she didn't have magic. She wasn't there, but there was a note on the table. It wasn't addressed to him. It was addressed to Pothead, but a note addressed to someone else never stopped Draco from reading it before, so it wouldn't stop him now.

He sat at the table, and started to read the note. She told Harry that Ron had taken her to her appointment and that when she got back, they could try to go see Derek Grayson again. Again? Did that mean they had already tried once? Why didn't she ask Draco to go with her? As soon as he thought that, he knew the answer: because he had been avoiding her, and she didn't know why. He knew why, and that hurt him even more.

He threw the note down on the floor, and was about to leave, when he heard crying. He knew it was Hermione before he saw her. She opened her front door, entered her apartment, and looked right over at him.

"Where were you?" he asked. There were more pressing things to ask, but that was the first thing to pop in his head.

"I had an appointment at St. Mungo's. Ron went with me, but I took a cab back," she said. She sat down on the other chair.

"Why were you crying?" he asked, afraid of the answer. "Did they have bad news for you at St. Mungo's?"

"Well, it wasn't good news, I rather think. My scans are about the same, and they still don't know how to help me. I feel the answer still lies with Derek Grayson. Harry and I have found him, and we tried to see him the other day, but he doesn't trust anyone who works for the Ministry. We were right, Draco, he is a wizard. I want to try to go visit him again," she said, staring at the top of the little white table.

"I read your note to Potter," Draco admitted. "You can't go see Grayson without me, okay? I don't work for the Ministry, so maybe he would agree to see you if I was there, not Potter. I have as much at stake as you do, so it's my right to see the man with you."

"You would really go with me?" she asked.

"I'm never leaving you again, so yes, I will go with you," he said. He meant it. He was certain he would never leave her again. He was done running away. The only thing that mattered now was that she forgave him. He had to try for her forgiveness next. He had to make everything right again. He said, "Time for sorry, don't you think?"

She finally looked up and said, "Draco, I am sorry for whatever I've done to cause you so much anger. We made love, and then you left me, and I felt so alone and dejected."

He stopped her before she could continue. "Hermione, don't take the blame for how I've been acting. That will only make me feel worse than I feel now. I meant it was time for me to say that I was sorry. Everything is my fault; losing your magic, your attack at Hogsmeade, everything."

Hermione shook her head and said, "Draco, that's a lot of guilt for one person to take. Listen, we all make mistakes, that's what makes us human, but I swear, I don't want you to wallow in self-pity or guilt any longer, because I don't blame you for any of this, and I don't want you to blame yourself. If it's anyone's fault, it's the dead professor's, but it's not yours and it's not mine."

"How did you get to be so smart?" he asked.

"Where have you been?" she asked, smiling. "I've always been smart, and that has nothing to do with my magic. No one can take that away from me."

He hoped she was right. What if what happened to Agnes happened to her? He didn't want to dwell on that thought. He said, "And I've always been a self-centered, egotistical prat, and I'm rather good at it, so don't fault me for that, okay? Just forgive me."

"I forgive you, if you forgive me," she said. She looked back down.

He put his hand on her chin, lifted her face and said, "I am so sorry, Hermione, please forgive me for the way I've been acting. None of this is even remotely your fault, so there's nothing for me to forgive. I'm a fool, and I was having a hard time with all my new feelings. They were exploding all over the place. Love, guilt, sorrow, empathy, all tangled up together, causing me to act like a bigger bastard than normal. I have never felt like this before, and I've handled things badly. I don't know how to care for someone as much as I care for you, so I ran away, and it was wrong, but I won't leave you again. I want to seek your forgiveness." He stood up and pulled her up to him. He kissed her lips.

She leaned into his embrace, almost collapsing into his arms. She began to cry harder. He picked her up and carried her to the couch. He sat down with her in his lap. He supported her back with one hand, as the other hand went to her neck. He kissed away her tears, one by one, and then his lips traveled to her neck. His hand went under her shirt, to rest on her stomach. His mouth pulled on her lips, and found their way down her neck, to her collarbone. She put both arms tight around his neck.

"Will you stay with me tonight, please? I need to feel you beside me," she begged.

"I would never refuse you again, but first, promise me, no more spilled tears over me, okay?" he finally said.

"Well, I wasn't crying over you, or even because of what the doctor's told me. I was crying because I just heard some bad news. Agnes Abernathy died today."