Chapter 20
Let Them Love
She wasn't sure how long she had sat on the floor. Time was no longer a factor, a necessity to her; it meant as little as the lint stuck to her socks. All she knew was that, she had sobbed until she could sob no more. Her chest ached as she heaved out the dry tears, hiccoughing wildly for a brief period before she was able to get enough air. Her throat was raw from the silent screams, eyes burning from dehydration.
She had cried until she had no more tears left to cry. And even then, her heart sobbed loudly in her chest.
Some part of her reminded her that this was her fault; if she had only stayed for purely good, selfless intentions, then this would not be happening. It chastised her, telling her that she should never have gotten involved. She should have left him alone, let him endure another Christmas without love or happiness.
She wasn't strong enough to do that…she just couldn't. It had pained her before to know of his past, to know that he had never had a true, beautiful memory. Now, it pained even more than, in the process of trying to give him such a memory, she had given him the worst kind possible.
Betrayal and heart ache.
Her mind whispered to her, telling her that she should never have let her heart out. She should never have opened it and accepted his kindness. She had known that, known what was at stake, and yet, she couldn't help it. She had needed to feel him, needed to become a part of him, to let him into her life and heart just as he had been willing to do the same.
His words broke her heart, the anger, the fury, the way his voice trembled with rage and pain. But, what really shattered her soul was the way his eyes had glistened with unshed tears.
She had made him cry…her selfishness, her stupidity, her callousness, had made Draco Malfoy, the heartless Slytherin Prince, cry.
Gods…what had she done? She wanted to make him happy, wanted to see him smile, and in the end, she only ended up hurting him more than he had ever been hurt before.
Her mind, through its pain, worked over the words he had shouted to her. This had happened before, she recalled. Perhaps not this exact situation, but something along the same lines had occurred.
He had said that he was sick of people pretending, using him to get close and blackmail or increase their social status. Her stomach churned at the thoughts, the reminders that maybe, in the end, he was truly far more alone than she had ever thought.
From what she knew, his only friends that had stuck through with him since the beginning were Blaise and Goyle. Crabbe's betrayal during the Second War was a harsh example and reminder of just how people used each other to get what they wanted.
Twisting into knots now, her stomach continued to jerk and force bile to rise up her throat as she coughed out dry tears.
She felt no better than Crabbe, no better than all of the others who had used and abused his kindness and friendship in the past. She had, albeit unknowingly, used him to relieve her guilt and sympathy. She knew deep down that each time he smiled, each time she helped create a good memory for him, that she had alleviated some of the guilt plaguing her mind and heart.
On the other hand, however, each time he smiled, her heart smiled with him. Each time he laughed, her soul giggling happily. Not because the guilt was fading, but because she just loved to see him content. As embarrassing as it was to admit, as insane as the notion was, she was falling for Draco Malfoy.
And she had destroyed their friendship in the worst kinds of ways.
Rubbing furiously at her eyes, fighting back the urge to scratch as them until the tears stop flowing, she tried to push through the pain to see clearer.
It was a difficult task; the image of him standing in her room, face drawn and etched with internal agony, constantly filled her mind. His words, harsh but true to an extant, filled her ears and were forever embedded in her memory. The pain in his eyes, the tears that had threatened to stain his cheeks, they were what broke her heart over and over again.
She had made the one man she'd give anything to see happy, sad.
What had she done? What had she fucking done?
The words repeated themselves in her mind, a constant reminder that she had done the worst thing imaginable.
She had broken someone's trust.
And not only that, but she had been prepared to lie to him the second he had stepped into the room. She had been ready to tell him that he had misheard, that she had lied to Harry and that the charm had never been put into place. All because she couldn't stand to see him upset.
Nor could she withstand the guilt that would have torn away at her until there was nothing left.
Dear Gods…what should she do? How could she show him that her guilt meant nothing, when it did mean something? How could she show him that it was more than her selfishness that instigated her actions? How could she show him that she truly did care?
"I need help," she murmured hoarsely, dragging her hands through her dishevelled hair. "I need someone to help me…someone good at this. Someone who will know what I should do…"
But what was the use? Did it really count if she had someone giving her the ideas? Did it really count if she couldn't figure out what to do all alone? Did it mean she really didn't care? Did it mean that she really only gave a damn about her own feelings? Or did it mean that she was desperate enough to gain his love back, that it showed just how much she yearned and ached for him? That being so overwhelmed by his hate, she was unable to think clearly and had to go for help.
She could always lie…but lying had gotten her in this situation to begin with.
She had…she had to find a way to talk to him, to tell him the full truth without having it blow up in her face. Of course, she needed to find a way to get him to listen to her for more than five seconds.
First off, she needed to find a way to win him back and show him how she truly felt.
"That's it, Hermione," she said softly, clambering to her feet, "push through the pain. Don't let it take you over. You need to think clearly in order to fix things, so think clearly."
The pain was still there, a constant ebbing and flowing of agony that rippled through her body, but she was pushing through it, desperate to repair this situation and his heart.
"Show him you care," she said, louder and stronger this time, "show him that, maybe, you might be falling in love with him."
Relief was a wonderful sensation. It flooded one's body instantaneously, like a cool shower after a run in the hot sun, like the feel of grass on under bare feet, like an internal cooling system that eased one's body into relaxation.
It was the best sensation so far, after love. Particularly because it came right after the horrendous feeling of stress; one's body would instantly unwind, the knots in the back would miraculously untie, and the churning storm of a stomach would calm down enough for the nausea to fade.
Yes, relief was a beautiful, amazing feeling.
Harry Potter was currently a victim of its euphoric capabilities, smiling broadly as he stepped back into the Weasley living room, ready and willing to tell the world that his best friend was not falling madly in love with a Ferret.
He didn't know or care that her life was currently falling apart, that at this precise moment said Ferret was shouting for her to stop trying make his better; Harry Potter's life was going back up again and he wanted the world to know.
"What are you doing up so early?"
He lifted his head towards the source of the words, the third eldest Weasley, Percy.
Harry jerked his head towards the stairs. "Who's up?"
Arching a brow at the way Harry avoided the question; Percy shrugged his shoulders and decided to indulge the Boy-Who-Lived for the time being. So long as Harry wasn't cheating on Ginny, everything would be just fine.
"Me, Mum's in the kitchen, I think I heard Charlie and Sarafina talking, too, but I wasn't too sure, and Bill's outside. Everyone else is asleep." Percy gave him a pointed look, signalling that he wanted his original question answered, and repeated, "Why are you up this early? You're never up before ten."
It was true, Harry realized. Unless he was at school, he had always been one to sleep in until about eleven or so. That is, of course, unless Ginny woke him up in a particular fashion, or if Molly shouted out that breakfast was ready. If Harry had to choose between an extra hour's sleep and Molly's breakfast, he would always choose the breakfast.
"I went to speak with Hermione," he replied quietly, praying that Ron was hiding somewhere in the house, sneaking about somewhere within earshot. "I got the answer."
A red brow lifted above the glasses' rim and Percy failed the battle to appear indifferent. "What happened?"
"I'll tell everyone what I can after breakfast."
"What you can? Is there stuff that you can't tell us?" Percy was a lot smarter than Harry ever gave him credit for.
"Don't worry," Harry said, moving over to clasp Percy's shoulder. "I'll tell everyone everything after breakfast; so long as Ron doesn't come down to eat."
"I wouldn't bet on it," Percy said gloomily. "If he hasn't come down yet, I don't see what will make him come down today."
Harry shrugged, heading towards Ginny's bedroom to give her his own kind of wake-up call.
I need your help…
"No, that doesn't do, that sounds unbearably stupid." Following the words was the sound of crumpling paper.
You're the best in these kinds of situations; I really need your help with this…
"Too desperate," the voice said with exasperation, the same sound as before following the spoken words.
Luna, I fucked up, badly.
Hermione glared down at the fresh paper, angry with herself for being too upset to be able to properly cast an erasing spell. She had set the first piece of parchment on fire, and was now resorting to recycling the other letters she did not approve of.
"I suppose this will have to do. Not desperate, not stupid, but I really don't care for cursing in a letter." She sighed heavily, rubbing her weary eyes, debating as to whether or not she actually wanted to attempt erasing the profanity. "I give up. I'll leave it as this."
She then continued to write, rather fervently to boot, a letter to a certain Luna Lovegood, nearly begging for the woman to help her through this particularly nasty situation. Luna always knew what to do, always knew what to say, and she was always able to instigate some kind of inspiration within Hermione.
Luna Lovegood was the goddess of understanding people and Hermione desperately needed her help.
Hermione was, how as one to put it without hurting her feelings, particularly bad at deciphering emotions and helping people. In some cases, she was able to figure things out on her own, but in this particular case, she was at a loss of what to do, after hours of thinking and pacing.
She had heard the door to the Head's Chambers slam shut a good hour and a half ago, and knew that Draco was headed somewhere to take out his anger. She also knew that it would do him no good; unless she fixed this, he would forever remain infuriated with her.
She had debated giving him his present early, but then realized that she didn't even have a present for him yet. Hell, she hadn't even figured out what to give him for Christmas!
This planning and deliberating was done, of course, after having taken a hot shower and another good cry where she felt that the whole world had crashed down on her. Angry at herself for allowing her emotions to get the better of her, knowing fully well that if Draco were on speaking terms with her, he'd tell her to stop blubbering and start acting like her usual self, she began to formulate plans.
All of which had seemed more obscene than the last, unlikelier to have any good consequences, and really, really, stupid.
Until she was reminded of Luna Lovegood and her Messiah-like abilities to heal people and relationships. This occurred when she was collecting the various items she had either tossed in frustration or had fallen when Draco had slammed the door.
Speaking of fallen items, she wondered vaguely why her shampoo bottle had been lying in the sink instead of on the metal basket under the showerhead.
Had Draco…?
No, he wouldn't…actually, yes, he would. Hell, if he could have, she was certain he would've either thrown the whole door at her or thrown her out of the window. And laughed while she either lay on the floor bleeding or fell to the certain death.
Then he would probably feel bad sometime later, either after he watched her bleed and cry for several minutes or at her funeral, and he would apologise and hide. Or hide and then apologise. Of course, then they would eventually start talking again, and he would completely forget everything he had heard…
Fuck, it would've been way easier if he had just thrown the door at her…
It was too late for that now, she reminded herself, resuming writing the letter to the blonde. She had to focus on the task at hand and then, while waiting for Luna's reply, try to figure out some way to fix this. Or at least come up with a variety of ideas that didn't stink and then ask Luna for her thoughts on them.
Speaking of Luna, she still found it quite funny that it was a small, radish doll that had reminded her of the girl. The doll had been a gift from a Muggle friend of hers, someone who had thought that it was particularly cute and was smart enough to know that Hermione would most likely always find it appealing.
It was rather cute, she reminded herself, staring at the stuffed vegetable, with big, anime-style eyes and a broad grin; it was the cutest vegetable she had ever seen.
Task at hand…back to the task at hand!
After fervently writing the letter, going over it to search for spelling mistakes or sentences that made no sense, she was finally rather pleased with the results. Folding it up and tucking it into an envelope, she shuffled through her belongings for suitable clothes to wear for her journey to the Owlery; she couldn't possibly go in her pyjamas.
After ensuring that her body was suitably dressed, she made the long trek towards the Owlery, hearing nothing but the faint echoes of the students hiding in the Great Hall. Aside from those echoes, faint and barely audible, the school was silent. Winter always seemed to create this unfathomable, all consuming silence that threatened to overwhelm any single being that dared to step within its presence. It wasn't deathly, but it was not always calming either.
It reminded her heavily of the silence before a storm, and she wondered just how come she never noticed the silence before their storm. Draco had become far more open with her, far more relaxed, but she never experienced the foreshadowing silence. Never went through the calm, the ease that came before a heavy blow hit.
Perhaps she had been too immersed in her feelings for him; her dreams, her wishes, her need to forever be caught up in his embrace.
Now, unless she fixed it, she would never feel his arms around her.
Wiping away at the, in her opinion, useless tears, she continued to walk through the cold corridors, trying to take a small pleasure in the sensation of the warm sunlight on her skin each time she passed by a window. It was difficult; she knew that nothing would ever be able to replace the feeling of his warm flesh against hers, but she also knew that, if things went well, she would, once again, feel it.
She just had to remain logical and optimistic, that's all. Look on the bright side of life, right?
'I just hope Harry's happy now,' she thought bitterly. It had taken her a while, but finally, her thoughts had turned to the dark-haired boy who just couldn't keep to himself. He just had to have the answers to everything, just had to know why Hermione was not being 'herself.'
'Maybe if he had just let me be, this wouldn't be happening,' she snarled inwardly, resisting the urge to send Harry a Howler to tell him just what she had thought about his inquiry that morning.
She knew, however, that no matter how much blame she put on him, no matter how much she tried to make it look like he was at fault, she knew that it was hers. If she had just been honest with everyone, if just hadn't given a damn about what her friends thought, if she had just told Draco her original reasons behind her actions, maybe this wouldn't be happening.
It was, though, and she could only do everything in her willpower to try and repair the situation.
She didn't want to lose him.
The Owlery was bustling with life, the owls hooting and shifting, a few fluttering about in spite of their nocturnal nature. It was strange, to not see Hedwig in the Owlery; her beautiful white feathers glistening in the sunlight. Hermione missed that owl and her little quirks; she had been such a good friend to them.
She tied the letter to a school barn owl, gave it a quick pat on the head and small snack, before stepping back and watching it take flight. Through the high, open windows, she watched as its body grew smaller and smaller as it increased the distance between them. She prayed that when Luna received the letter, she was not in the same room as Harry or the others; she really couldn't deal with another question-answer session with Harry.
Turning to leave, she was surprised to find that she was no longer alone; standing in the doorway, arms crossed, questioning gaze on his face, was Blaise Zabini.
Now, in most cases, she would feel rather nervous being stuck alone and wandless with a Slytherin; despite the war and the outcomes, they still harboured a form of deep hatred towards her and her fellow Gryffindors. However, the handsome African-Italian before her was someone she, well…trusted.
Trust was not particularly the right word, but it was the closest thing that came to describing the relationship between herself and Blaise. They had an understanding, they did not hate each other, did not attack each other. In fact, they almost seemed to view each other as equals, scholarly speaking.
This, however, did not answer the questions rising in her mind.
'Did Blaise follow me here? He doesn't have a letter. What does he want?'
She fought back the instinctive urge to gnaw on her lower lip in apprehension. She did not like this situation at all, despite their understanding.
"Granger," he said with a nod.
"Zabini," she replied.
Hoping that this was nothing but an accidental meeting, she wiped her hands on her pants and began making her way to the door.
"I have a question for you."
She stopped in her tracks, confused clearly displayed on her face. The anxiety came back anew, and she had to shove her hands into her jeans' pockets to prevent herself from wringing them. She satisfied her needs by chewing on the inside of her cheek, something that was not too noticeable.
"What is it?" Her voice was steady. Good. Never show a weakness to an enemy, or in this case, a Slytherin.
He stood away from the door; arms still crossed, and covered a little bit of the distance between them. His dark eyes glowed with an unreadable emotion, lips thinned into a straight line.
"What did you do to Draco?"
Taken aback, she was momentarily dazed and found herself unable to reply, or even consider a reply. It was then, in her confusion, that she became able to read his gaze. It was worry that showed in his eyes. He was worried about Draco, willing to do anything to find out just what or who had changed his friend.
Swallowing thickly, trying to figure out exactly how to answer his questions, she began by avoiding the topic. "What do you mean?"
She swore that she almost – almost! – saw him roll his eyes in exasperation. "You know exactly what I mean, Granger. Yesterday, he was like some happy fool and today…I have never seen him angrier or more hurt in the entire time I've known him. It's like something has sucked out all of the joy and replaced it with hate and sadness."
It was a good way of putting, she admitted. When she had last seen him that morning, he seemed like someone who would never be able to feel happiness again. Like someone who had had his heart torn out and wasn't sure whether to be angry or sad about it.
She wanted to answer his questions, she truly did, because a part of her felt that if Blaise knew the answer, he might be able to help her in her quest to heal the wounds she had inflicted. However, she wasn't sure if it was the right thing to do. They were barely friends, hardly knew each other, hell, they were barely considered to be acquaintances. Now, all of a sudden, he wanted her to answer these questions that, although he had no idea, were unbelievably personal.
She wanted his help; he knew Draco far better than she did, but she just couldn't bring herself to do it.
"I…I don't know," she replied lamely, lowering her eyes in hopes to avoid his searching gaze.
Blaise simply stood and stared at her, his gaze scrutinizing, boring into her head as though he was trying to read her mind. She wondered, vaguely, if he was attempting to perform Occlumency on her, and immediately began to put up barriers.
When she lifted her head, when she dared glance in his direction, the look in his eyes told her everything. He knew…he knew that she was lying. Something told her that he did not what she was hiding, but he knew that she was not telling him the truth.
"Granger," he said softly, uncrossing his arms, easing his stance just a bit, "I think that you should know something very important."
She inclined her head, gesturing to him that she had heard his words and was ready to hear more. That was another lie. She was terrified to hear just what he might have to say to her. What if he reprimanded her? What if he told her that Draco was a lost cause? What if he ordered her to stay as far away from Draco as possible and forget all about him and their time spent together?
"Draco…is an eccentric individual. He has lived a life nobody should have to experience, but it isn't the worst life out there. You must have noticed that he doesn't seem to be able to keep many close friends." He paused, waiting for the flicker of her eyes to signal that she understood. "While his life is not the worst, you must realize that he has lived a life with virtually no love. People used his for his family's influence; his parents were pawns, as well, his father, a callous man who wanted his son to be a cold, emotionless killing machine. His mother was the only source of love he had. I've only ever seen him truly smile when he speaks about his mother.
"Then you came along…I wasn't sure when it happened, it might have happened at the beginning of this year, maybe it started shortly after the end of the Second War. I'm not sure, but he started to show a new side of himself. He looked less…lonely. He had a slightly brighter glow about him, seemed to want to smile just a bit more. There were days where you infuriated him, where he seemed to want to do nothing but strangle you. But, ever since you showed up in his life, he seems to feel just a bit more loved."
She fought back the physical response to Blaise's words. Draco…Draco had been happier with her around? Even when they were at each other's throats, ready to kill each other over the simplest task, he was happier near her? What…what did she do? What was so great about her…?
"I don't know what you do, but you've been doing something really good. He cares about you, you know. He won't admit to us, but I've had my suspicions for some time now. When he stood up for you the other day, breaking off his friendship with Pansy because of what she had said about you, if proved my suspicions right.
"Now…I don't know what has recently happened between you two, but I know that you must have done something. He's hurting more than I've ever seen him hurting." His eyes hardened as he stared at her, watching Hermione begin gnawing on her lip.
"I…"
He shoved his hands into his pockets and cut her off, "Don't say anything. You didn't mean it; you guys were angry, et cetera, et cetera. I don't want to hear your excuses. I want you to do something about it. Draco may not be the greatest wizard in the world, but he isn't the worst, either. He's a good guy who will do anything to protect those he loves."
This time, she couldn't hold back her reaction. Her heart thundered wildly in her chest at the notion that Draco Malfoy could possibly be in love with her. It was impossible; it made no sense whatsoever. What had she done to have caused him to fall in love with her? When in the world did this happen? She knew that he cared about her, at least enough to worry about her safety, but she had had no idea that his feelings went this far.
How had Blaise noticed this before her? How had he figured it all out before, from what she could determine, Draco even had?
'Damn, he's a perceptive bitch, isn't he?' she thought.
If he had noticed her shocked reaction, he paid no heed to it. He continued to speak as though her body had not visibly jerked at the words he had spoken. "Draco, he deserves to be loved. He's one of the greatest guys I know, and you should be doing everything in your willpower to keep in. Do you understand me? Don't lose him, no matter what you do. Do your damned hardest to keep him. He deserves to be happy, and, even though we've had our differences in the past, so do you. Go after him and don't fuck up.
"I don't know what you did, what you said, but you have to fix it, because I swear, if you pretended to return the feelings and wound up hurting him, I'll hex you until so much you'll wish to be killed."
She shuddered at the thought; Blaise cared so much about Draco that he was willing to kill her if she hurt him. It terrified her and made her heart leap with joy at the same time. For someone to care so much about another…
Did Draco feel the same way about her? Was he willing to kill someone for her?
He had nearly killed Ron, hadn't he?
Gods…Gods, what had she done?
"Granger, you understand everything I'm saying to you, right?"
He waited patiently for her answer, his voice sounding far calmer, far lighter than the voice of someone who had just threatened to kill another. It was strange, perhaps something she might laugh at when looking back at the situation, but at this point in time, she was too worried and terrified to say even consider his actions comical.
She understood…she understood exactly what he meant.
"Yes," she said softly, afraid that if her voice were any louder, he could feel the guilt and pain in it. "I understand you."
"Good. Go after him Hermione and treat him right. I promise you that you won't regret it one bit." He turned to go and just as he reached the door, she called out to him.
"Wait…wait," she lowered her voice. "Can…can you tell me…where is Draco?"
His brow lifted at the use of Draco's first name; it was the first time he had ever heard the Muggle-Born say it. It soundly oddly comforting, as though she was meant to say it.
"I don't know where he is right now. I know I saw him prowling the halls, shouting at everyone in sight and knocking over as many things as he could. He was really pissed." Blaise paused, as though considering whether to say the next words or not. "And…he was crying."
"Oh Gods," she muttered, running her hands over her face, fighting back the sudden onslaught of tears. "I made him cry…I can't…I did…Shit, shit, shit!"
"I told you, Granger," Blaise said, as emotionless as ever, "treat him right and you won't regret. Hurt him and you'll hurt just as badly."
He turned to go but glanced at her one last time. Finally…his façade fell. His cool mask faded away and, through her tears, she saw his true feelings. His face did not lie; he was worrying for her just as much as he worried about Draco.
He walked away, leaving her alone in the Owlery with her regrets, guilt, and pain.
The words 'Go after him…love him…he needs you…' danced in the wind.
"What did you want to see us about, mate?"
It was a normal yet strange occurrence, to see a sea of redheaded boys, and girl, sitting in the backyard of the Weasley household. They were hiding under the trees, as far from the house as possible, as though afraid that Ron might be lurking and listening in.
Harry ran his hands through his impossibly unruly hair, dragging his digits down his face in obvious exhaustion. He hadn't slept last night, had dealt with Hermione this morning, and then had to deal with the questions for the past three hours before he could finally get everyone involved alone.
So, in spite of the cold, they had all gathered outside.
"I saw Hermione this morning," Harry said quietly, leaning closer to the group so that they could hear.
George grinned broadly at this, but Bill sighed heavily in response. "You know, as much as I wanted to help my brother out, isn't it just a bit intrusive to just appear in Hermione's room and force her to answer your questions? I know that, when this was just an idea, I was for it, but…I don't know, I kind of feel guilty now."
"Don't tell me that you're finally getting conscience," George said with a elbow to Bill's rib.
Charlie sighed through his scarf and rolled his eyes. "Bill makes sense; while a part of me really, really wants the answers , which is the only reason I'm here right now, it is just a bit much to actually go through with the idea."
Ginny pursed her lips, as though considering both sides presented. "Look, we can all feel guilty after we hear what Harry has to say, okay? For now, what's done is done, so let's just get this over with. I'm bloody freezing out here!"
"Gin's right," Percy admitted. His voice was barely audible through the three scarves the pansy – as dubbed by George – had put on in fear of cold and frostbite. "Let's just get this over with and deal with our emotions after. For all we know, Hermione might really be in love with Malfoy."
"I suppose…"
"So, let's hear it Harry, tell us what you learnt." George leaned forward with excitement, eyes aglow with mischief as he waited for the telltale words.
"I can tell you what I can, but I can't say everything," Harry finally said. He shoved his hands into his pockets, willing them to warm up as much as possible as he considered his next words. "Hermione and I…the only way we were able to answer each other's questions truthfully was by performing a minor version of an Unbreakable Vow on each other. I can't tell you all what was said and neither can she, or there will be consequences."
Ginny huffed loudly, getting ready to stand up and leave. "So why did you make us come out here? It's fucking cold and I don't see the point of you making us come out here just so you can tell us you can't tell us anything."
"Let him continue, Gin," Charlie said, placing a hand on his sister's shoulder in an attempt to ease her temper. "Those vows can be easily avoided, by simply rewording things, you know that, right? He doesn't have to give us the answers she gave, but he can give us hints, or tell us what she didn't say."
"Oh…oh, that's true, I didn't think of that," she admitted. "Sorry Harry, go on, please."
"It's all right," he replied. Taking a deep breath, he continued, "What I can tell you is that it's good news. She still can't stand him…Ron still has a chance with her. She is not doing what everyone thought that she was doing, do you guys understand?"
"So, basically…she's not staying for Malfoy?"
"Exactly, Charlie. She has no feelings for him whatsoever. She … let me think of a way to say it differently from the way she said it…she said it's like volunteer work. He has a past, I can't say what, but she…well, you know Hermione. She has to fix everyone and try to make people better. She's not always very good at it, but it's in her nature. I suppose Malfoy is her pastime, her current project. Make him better and she feels better, you know?"
"Essentially," Percy summed up, "she pities him because of a previous experience he has had, and she wants to make him feel better. Right?"
"Exactly."
"So she's not in love with the slimy git?" Ginny asked, eyes shinning with joy. "She doesn't love him at all? She's probably more in love with Ron than him?"
"From what I could tell, yes…well, no to the first two questions and yes to last. She cares a lot about Ron." Harry grinned and promptly stopped as a breezed chilled his teeth.
"Well…that's a perfectly good reason to get us all out here," George said. "So, let's go and tell Ron."
"I can't."
George rounded on Harry, eyes wide with confusion and annoyance. "What do you mean you can't?"
"It's part of the Vow; I can't say a thing to Ron until Hermione feels ready to do it. That'll only happen once we get back to school. Besides, I think it might be good for her to tell him the truth," Harry replied.
"So we still have to deal with Ron's sulking and whining?" Charlie asked with a heavy sigh.
"She never said that nobody else couldn't tell Ron," Harry pointed out with a grin. "All you have to do is tell him what I said and the Vow will still be intact."
"Are you sure he'll believe us?" Apprehension was laced in Bill's voice. "I mean, as least you, he can understand. But the rest of us? Will he really believe what we tell him?"
"It doesn't hurt to try," Percy replied. "I vote that Charlie does it."
"Why me?"
"Because you're perfect," George pointed out.
The Weasley children began to get to their feet, each of them discussing who would be first to break the good news to Ron.
"What if he doesn't believe me?" Ginny whined when Charlie pointed to her. "He might try to hex me."
"But you're a better shot than him," Percy added.
"Don't gang up on me just because I'm a girl!" she huffed, tripping Percy, sending him flying face first into the snow.
"We didn't say anything like that!" George said, getting as far as possible from Ginny.
Harry walked towards the house with a smile on his face. The Vow was intact, the family was happy, and Hermione wasn't in love with Malfoy.
Life was good.
"Harry."
He turned to see Bill standing beside him, watching the scene before him.
"Yeah?"
"What if Hermione had told you that she was in love with Malfoy?"
He arched a brow, wondering where the eldest Weasley was going with this. "What do you mean?"
"What would you have done if her answer had been the exact opposite? Would you have stopped being her friend just because she fell in love with him? Just because you hate his guts?"
"I…I don't know," Harry admitted, lowering his head. "To be honest, I'd be really angry…I mean, Malfoy put us through hell and back at Hogwarts and I can't really forgive him for a lot of things he has said and done to us. Just because he magically changed sides during the War doesn't mean anything."
Bill hesitated, about to say something to Harry, but paused and considered his words. He shook his head, as though to say 'No, I can't say that" and exhaled quietly. "Harry…are you sure it would be bad? I know that he isn't the greatest wizard in the world, but … if she loves him, can it be that bad?"
"For Ron, it will…Ron would go absolutely insane," Harry pointed out.
"But that's because Ron's an immature git who doesn't know how to get or keep a girl. He stands on the fucking sidelines and watches and pants over her. He doesn't grow balls and asks her out." Bill added, rather harshly, too, Harry noticed.
"I know," Harry admitted, "but he's still my friend, and so is Hermione. I just don't know if I'd be able to deal with it. It'd just be really strange. He's Malfoy, for goodness sake!"
Bill turned his eyes away from Harry, watching as George began to playfully wrestle with Charlie while Percy and Ginny pelted each other with snowballs. "I know that he's a Malfoy; it's going to be stuck with him for the rest of his life. But, I do know what it's like to have your family and friends hate the person you love. Remember how much Mum and Gin hated Fleur? I didn't let them know this, but it hurt so much to see that they couldn't just be open enough to understand that, so long as I was happy, they could be happy."
"That was different, the rest of us were in love with her, and she wasn't a childhood enemy," Harry pointed out lamely.
"So? It shouldn't matter who it is, so long as they love each other," Bill said rather loudly, grateful for the ruckus the others made. "That's what I'm trying to get at. If she were really in love with him, would you be able to understand that? Would it really be as horrible as you're making it sound like? She's your friend, hell, she's probably the closest thing to a sister you'll ever have, and you should only care about her happiness. That's what's important."
"But how can Malfoy, out of all the people in the world, make her happy?" Harry blurted out. "It would be impossible for them to love each other!"
Sighing softly, Bill shoved his hands into his pockets and shook his head. "This is where you're still immature Harry. Love…love is something that just…works. In spite of all of the arguments, in spite of one's past, when two people are in love, they are supposed to be the happiest people in the world. Having friends who don't approve kind of puts a damper on the happiness, though, especially when they're your best friends." He stepped away, glancing up to the sun, watching it dance it the sky, the rays causing the snow to glitter like a thousand diamonds. "Hermione's a good person with a good heart and she isn't stupid. But Harry, you can't try to control her forever. She will fall in love with someone one day, maybe it'll be Malfoy, maybe some random Muggle, maybe even Ron, but you can't try to force her to fall for Ron. Let her do it her way; she has a right to do what she wants, too."
Harry opened his mouth, fully intending to tell Bill exactly what he thought of his words when the man turned to look at him, silencing the younger man with a gaze.
"Harry…let her love who she wants to love; you're not her father, you're her best friend. Show her you'll care about her no matter what decision she makes. No one should be forced to choose between the one they love and their friends."
He wanted to fight back, wanted to yell at Bill and tell him he was wrong, he wasn't making Hermione choose…but, the one thing that made him keep his silence was that…he knew that Bill was right.
Here we go. That took a lot less time than the other chapter, didn't it? I just couldn't keep you guys waiting and I couldn't wait to keep writing!!!
So, what is Hermione going to do? Will she find a way to repair her relationship? Will Harry try to fix what he did? Will he accept her love with Draco? What's Bill getting at? Does he know the truth? Has he figured it all out?
So many questions!!!!!!
Don't worry, this isn't the end!! Not at all!!! There are still more chapters to come and I want to finish them as soon as possible (University is telling me that I am going to have a LOT of reading to do!).
Constructive criticism/editing – very much welcome; I don't always have time to look over my work and I appreciate it if someone posts any mistakes I made in their comments.
Flames – used to um…flame the desire Blaise and Bill have to help Draco and Hermione (I suddenly thought of a crack pairing; Blaise and Bill. Lmao. Can you imagine THAT?!)
Adoration – increases my ego. By a lot. By a FREAKING LOT! I love it. I feel like an Ancient Greek Deity before 31 B.C. (before Rome when omnomnomnom I eat you up, Greece!)
Anyways, please feel free to review as much as possible (by the way, I must say this here: DO NOT PUT A COMPLETED STORY AS A STORY ALERT! It's annoying the hell out of me when I get fifty-million Story Alert notices in my e-mails for oneshots!).
Oh, one more thing: 600 FREAKING REVIEWS!!! I LOVE YOU GUYS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Until the next chapter!