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Chapter 21: Acknowledgment:

Sitting alone in the car while Hermione paced back and forth in the field not far away, Draco closed his eyes, gripped the steering wheel in his hands, and he wondered something: How did she know?

How did she know what he had planned? Hell, he hadn't even known for sure that was what he was going to do until twenty minutes after he had left her at her door to get ready for the date.

He remembered that there was an old cathedral nearby, he contacted a wizard from the resort area who was an officiate, and who could marry them in a hurry, he called in a favour at the Ministry to get a license, and then he dressed and went to her room to collect her.

After he left her to finish dressing, he wrote four notes, she had only gotten three so far, and he borrowed this car (stealing was such a negative word, and seriously, he would return it later, and no one would know), and then he waited for her at the end of the lane.

He played it cool, smiled at her, touched her, turned on the charm, and then she figured it out! Damn, damn, double-effing damn. She was too smart for him that was sure.

She must have figured out he was lying from his body language. He did nothing outwardly to acknowledge what his plans were, so that must have been it. She was starting to know him too well. If he could no longer lie to her that meant one thing and one thing only: they were truly meant to be together. Lying was second nature to him, and it came quite naturally, along with all forms of lying - deception, deceit, embellishment, underhandedness. If he wasn't going to be able to deceive her any longer, he would have to start being truthful and good, which in his mind meant that she was the one he was meant to be with forever.

It almost hurt to come to that conclusion. To acknowledge that from now on, she would always have the upper hand in their relationship, but that was the cold, hard truth in Draco's mind.

Nevertheless, seriously, was it necessary for her to be so dramatic? To storm out of the car, throw herself on the ground, and yell at him? She was on the verge of vomiting, for Merlin's sake! Why did the thought of marrying him make her want to throw up? He tried to deny it when she first accused him, but then she stood up, pointed her hand at him and said, "You're lying!"

She might as well have been a puritan, and he a heretic, or worse, a wizard, because the moment she pointed that finger at him, full of anger and indignation, that was what he imagined. He imagined that she was accusing him of something, and without a doubt, she was. She called him a liar, and liar he definitely was.

She started back toward the car, and he reached in his pocket for the last note. It was still tucked safely inside. Good. He could never give it to her now. She opened the car door, sat down, and slammed it shut, and then said, "Okay, I'm calm now, and I'm no longer upset. I can still have a nice birthday, but first, would you mind driving us back to the resort?"

"I think I would mind it," he answered. She gave him a dirty look and he sneered, "Surely you don't want me to LIE do you?"

"Fine, I'll apparate. If you want to join me, I'll see you later." Her hand went toward the door handle, she tried to open it, and it wouldn't budge. She looked at the lock, it was unlocked, and then she looked at Draco as he was fingering his wand. "You better let me out of here," she warned.

He put his wand away. "Not yet." He wasn't sure what he was going to do. The first thing was to lock the doors with magic, so she couldn't escape. The next thing would be to grab her purse, which he did quickly, so that she couldn't unlock the doors with her wand. He was shocked when she climbed over the front seat and tried one of the back doors. "Give me some credit, Granger. I may be a liar, but I'm not an idiot. I locked them, too, and don't try to apparate away, I've taken care of that as well."

She sat in the corner of the backseat, folded her arms in front of her, and stared out of the window.

"I'll take you back in a while, but I need to think for a moment," he said to appease her.

"Well don't strain yourself," she harped.

He mocked her silently, moving his head back and forth, mouthing the words she had just spoken, and then he felt her slap him upside the back of the head. "Don't make fun of me," she chastised.

He turned to look at her and then he climbed in the backseat with her, much to her surprise, and his vexation. He sat on the opposite side of the backseat and asked, "What's wrong with marrying me?"

She turned her head to stare out the side window again. She couldn't answer that, because she didn't think there would be anything wrong with marrying him, although he would probably irritate her into an early grave. She turned back and said, "You don't know me well enough to marry me."

"This isn't about what I want, because I apparently you don't care what I want, because I want to marry you, so I'll ask again, what's wrong with me?" He asked it so sincerely, she felt distressed.

She didn't want to hurt him, but the truth was, she didn't know for sure if she loved him, but she knew was that she was probably falling in love with him, even though she didn't want to acknowledge that she yet. It was just too soon.

The one thing she was certain of, and could acknowledge, was that she couldn't fully trust him, and that was no basis for a relationship, let alone marriage.

"We don't love each other," she finally said slowly,, not quite answering his question, and certainly not acknowledging her doubts to him.

"I think I'm falling in love with you, so there," he claimed. Now he turned to look out the window. "I know I've never wanted to even think about marriage before now."

Hearing him admit the very sentiment that she couldn't declare, made her feel ashamed. She took a deep breath and said, "You said that you wanted to date me after this weekend, right?"

He looked at her as if she was stupid. "Of course," he answered incredulously.

"And you already made it clear that you want us to sleep together, right?"

"Gee, Granger, your powers of deduction truly amazes me," he said full of disdain. "And it doesn't have to be in that order. We can sleep together and then start to date. Whatever makes you happy." He was back to smiling.

"Draco," she said, placing her hand on his arm. "Those aren't reasons to marry. I won't make a mockery out of marriage, even though that's what we've done all weekend. When and if I marry, it will be for love, companionship, sex, children, friendship, forever and ever. Do you understand?" She scooted closer and said, "Marriage so that you can prove to me that you'll get what you want, for example, sleeping with me tonight, and dating me after we get home, isn't any reason to marry, even if we are starting to be more than fond of each other."

"More than fond?" he asked back, each word dripping with as much sarcasm as he could muster. "I said love, you stupid idiot." He removed her hand from his and pushed her to the other side of the seat. "Do you think you could insult me any more today?" He took his wand and with a flick, he unlocked the doors. He jumped out of the backseat, and got back into the driver's seat. "I'll take you back." He started the car and turned it around as soon as he could, and started back toward the resort.

She sat in the corner of the backseat, huddled almost in a ball, staring out the window. She broke the silence by saying, "You don't love me."

He stopped the car again, so fast, that she wasn't braced for the stop. She flew forward and hit her head the headrest of the front seat. She rubbed her forehead with her hand and before she could berate him, he was outside her door, which he opened quickly, and pulled her roughly out to stand beside him outside the car.

"I love you," he reiterated. His hands grasped her shoulders, and he pulled her to him and kissed her forehead. "Sorry about the head, but maybe it'll knock some sense into you."

She sighed and dropped her head to his chest. He placed his arms around her tightly. "You don't love me," she said again.

"I do." He sighed, an outward sigh. He had never in his life worked as hard to get a woman to want him as hard as he had worked this weekend. Why couldn't she see the effort he was exerting? "Are you that insecure, or that dense? What can I say to convince you? I've worked so hard and diligently this weekend to get you to notice me, and to show you a nice time. I know why I've done it, and I know what I am, and I'm a man in love." As he proclaimed his feelings, she continued to shake her head no. He started to nod his yes. He finally shook her hard. "Stop it!" he shouted. He placed his hands on her head to stop it from moving.

"You lie all the time," she finally concluded.

"Hermione," he said, now fully exasperated, his arms to his sides. "I can't change things. I lie, I cheat, and I even steal. I even stole this car, but I'll return it later." She frowned, looked at the car, and then back at him as he continued. "I am selfish, spoiled, self-centered, sexy, and I love alliteration. " She smiled again. "But you're starting to see through my façade of lies, which means you'll start to see good in me soon, I hope. I want there to be some good inside. I think you bring out the good in me."

He added, "I love you. I do. I'm not good enough for you, and I could say that I don't care if you believe me or not, but I'm not that much of a liar. I do care. What I don't care is what everyone else will think. I don't care if they believe it. I don't care if they gossip when we get back to work. I don't care if anyone understands, or believes us. You're the only one that matters, well, besides me. The way I see it, if we come back as a married couple, no one will challenge the contract, because they'll all assume we were already planning to wed before you were hired, because a smart woman like you would never marry a man she's only reconnected with for a week." He let go of her arm, pulled the last piece of parchment out of his pocket, still neatly in its triangle, and handed it to her.

She didn't know what to say. She fingered the piece of parchment in her hands, moving it around to feel the points, and the flaps, and the truth was, she was afraid to look at it, because she feared that she already knew what it had to say.

He pointed to the note again and explained, "I really think this last note will be a solution to our problem. I think this is a better way of handling things than running away, which is your solution. Ignoring each other at the end of the weekend is paramount to lying, Granger. You thought I was a liar, but you, my dear, are even more of one if that's what you really, really, think will solve things."

They stood by the car and stared at each other for many long minutes. To break the silence that had impeded upon them yet again, and because he felt awkward just standing there, looking at her, he said, "I wasn't going to give you that note until our tour was over, but read it and then give it thought before you answer."