For Shirley and your love of strawberries,
When August approached, it was one of the hottest Augusts Britain had seen in a long time. Hermione was traipsing around her flat in shorts and a white tank top most of the time, trying to cool herself with a piece of paper folded and refolded to look like a fan. She had gone out in the sun a few times, trying to get a sufficient tan before she knew she'd lose it. Draco had offered to pay for Haley's classes for the next year ahead of time, but Hermione did not accept the money, claiming, "You don't need to worry about that."
Haley's nightmare progression was getting better. Hermione could now sit in the room for two hours without Haley getting a horrible nightmare. When Draco saw the real thing for himself, he had embraced Hermione in a rather large bear hug. He had smelt her hair, and breathed in her scent that he had gotten used to. She had gone so far as to kiss his cheek lightly before he pressed his lips to hers, and celebrated further across the hall.
The feelings the pair had created during their strange relationship were nothing short of...confusing. Draco supposed it was like the saying, "you never know what you have until its gone". He certainly felt that way about his distant mother. Hermione, however, knew exactly how she felt about Draco now. Even more so when he asked her out on a regular date.
"I heard there was this, um, fireworks show down by well, where the Death Eater attack was before, and I was curious if you'd like to go. You know, since you've done so much for us, and I thought reading had gotten a little boring and – "
Hermione had laughed, cutting Draco from speaking any more. "You really need to find a better way to ask girls out on dates you know." She left him looking rather dazed at her reply, and she just shot him a Malfoy-worthy smirk. "That's a yes, by the way."
Draco had harrumphed, and tried to look as if he wasn't a coward. "Oh, of course, I knew that," he mumbled, looking away suddenly. What was happening to him? He was acting like a teenager trying to ask a girl out, and he was almost positive he didn't like Granger that way! He was eighty percent – seventy-five percent – certain. "It's tomorrow, just so you know. I can pick you up around eight?" he asked with a smile.
And so there they were, seated in a small alleyway in short beach chairs. Hermione had insisted they sit away from the crowd to enjoy the scenery better, otherwise they'd have to shout to whisper over the loudness of the chattering Muggles and the bursting fireworks. It had turned rather chilly as the night persisted, and Hermione pulled the blanket they had brought closer to her. She almost regretted wearing shorts and a strapless shirt with a cardigan. However, Draco had said she looked absolutely stunning which made her blush. She had complimented his outfit too, which was merely a green t-shirt and grey shorts, but it looked good nonetheless.
"I brought some snacks," Hermione said, pulling out a rather large cooler from her bag. Draco looked with wide eyes, but realised it must've been an Extension Charm. Otherwise, it was just a big bag. "Care for something?" The fireworks wouldn't be starting for maybe fifteen minutes or more, and Hermione hadn't eaten much dinner, so she was rather hungry.
Draco, who had seemed to be transfixed, in a trance by her perfectly sculpted ear, finally met her gaze. "Oh, er, sure, that'd be great." He gave a small smile, and pretended not to act like he was nervous. He really had no idea why he was all jittery. Maybe it was because it was the end of the summer, and he knew that with the next starting school year, Hermione may not agree to staying with him. Or perhaps it was because of the heat. Yes, probably the heat.
With a grin, Hermione pulled out two circular, plastic containers. One contained fruit pieces like cantaloup, kiwi, strawberries, blueberries, grapes, and pineapple. In the opposite container, there were carrots, cauliflower, broccoli, cucumbers, celery, and baby tomatoes. There were also dips, like ranch, caramel and cream cheese, which were all dispersed evenly throughout Hermione's small set-up. She grabbed a green grape, dipped it into the cream cheese, and popped it into her mouth. She swallowed, watching Draco's expression change drastically. "What?" she asked when her mouth was empty.
He tried very hard not to laugh, but at her obvious oblivion, Draco guffawed into a bout of laughter. "This is what you bring as a snack to a fireworks show?" Hermione glared at him with burning hot eyes as he continued to chuckle. "Veggies and fruit?"
"I'll have you know," Hermione started as she rummaged through her bag, "that I also brought along crisps." Draco sighed, finally thinking she was normal. But again, he was wrong. "They're banana crisps. They're absolutely scrumptious! Think I bought about fifteen bags while I was in Haiti. This is the last one."
"Haiti? When were you in Haiti?" Draco asked curiously as he reached for the banana crisps. He thought he'd give them a try at least. He took a small, circular piece and bit into it. Not bad, really. It tasted like potato crisps, only with the less obvious fat taste.
Hermione reached back into her bag to pull out another container. "Oh, well, I've travelled a lot. Haiti was one place I'd wanted to go for a long time due to the poverty and horrible conditions there; you know how I am about house-elves..." She trailed off, and Draco rolled his eyes at the mention of house-elves. She never quit. "And I thought that I could help those unfortunate in a third-world country, and I'd never gone to the Caribbean before." She sat up, and placed a few cut strawberries on a plate she fetched, and began to sprinkle them with sugar.
"And how was it?" Draco asked as he watched her make her own little dessert. Strawberries with sugar. He thought it'd be a good idea to make Haley some one day. It would trick her into eating healthily. "Haiti, I mean. Was it as horrible as you expected? More so, less?"
"It was...quite interesting actually," Hermione started, digging into her strawberries as she told her story. "I went with a group of friends I met in America, and trust me when I say it was a definite culture shock. When we landed at the airport – "
Draco held up a hand to pause her. "What's an airport?" he asked seriously. "It's Muggle, isn't it? I've read about it before, I just never knew what it was." he guessed. Hermione nodded.
"It's where a way of transportation called an 'aeroplane' is kept.. An aeroplane is sort of like giant, metal hippogriff that isn't an animal but instead a machine – made of metal and such – to, by wind and engines, fly passengers up into the air and across oceans and such," she explained as best as she could. "It's sort of a difficult to explain well..."
"No, no, it's fine. Perfect imagery, really. Continue, please." Draco shot her a genuine, heart-warming smile, and Hermione felt as if she wanted to lean over and kiss him then. But she didn't and instead cleared her throat.
"Um, okay, well, when we arrived at the airport, people tried to steal out luggage, which was a bit of an annoyance. Also, when you're driving on the road, instead of in here in London where you wait to cross lanes at a certain point, in Haiti, you just honk your horn as loud as you can and hope the person moves over before you run into them!" She began to laugh. "It was actually a rather fun experience on the road in Haiti. Haiti in itself was fun. We went to the beach one day, and on the beach there are these vendors who sell you things you can keep as souvenirs. I bought a little chest that says 'Haiti' on it. I keep all my jewellery in there now. I bargained for it actually. It was originally 15 pounds, and I got it down to five! Also, I was able to spend a lot of time with these young kids and got to know them really well. I even helped them make bracelets and headbands and..."
As Hermione continued to babble on and on about Haiti, Draco just watched her with complete admiration. When he caught Granger talking about something she was passionate about, like travelling and helping things for the greater good, it completely left him feeling dazed and confused about his feelings for her. They were getting increasingly stronger, and he was afraid if she did something else extremely adorable like talk about her times in Haiti, Draco's feelings were going to cross the intersection of Rather Attached To and Falling In Love With. He'd never drifted as far as Care Immensely About before, and he wasn't sure if he was ready for FILW.
"...then the little boy," Hermione started, smiling to her ears, "went over to me and asked me – in Creole of course – if I could lift him up. And I did, and he spent the rest of the day in my arms, never letting go. That's something I'll never – " Draco, overtaken by the brazen side of him, darted forward, and cut her off with a short, sweet kiss. The fireworks hadn't even started yet, but they hadn't needed to. The background of the disappearing sun over the horizon was better than any fireworks display could be.
The kiss lasted only about a minute before Draco retreating slowly, letting his lips brush against hers softly as they parted. "Tell me more about what you like," he said, his voice deep and rather husky-like. "If you would, I mean. I'd love to know more." His eyes glanced up towards Hermione's coffee brown ones, and he gave a genuine kissable smile. "It intrigues me."
Hermione's eyebrows rose so high they could've disappeared into her hair, which down, now went almost past her chest. "You really want to know more about me?" she asked, sitting up straighter. "Well, let's see..." She looked around as if to think of a random fact to say, but had gone speechless. Her eyes suddenly fell on the sugar-coated strawberries in her lap. "Strawberries are my favourite fruit. And I can only eat them with sugar on top. That's the absolute only way to eat strawberries," she explained with a smile. "It used to be my grandmother's favourite afternoon treat."
Draco made a mental note that Granger loved strawberries with sugar as he took in the information. He had the urge to grab her hand, but didn't want things to become too uncomfortable. Despite the fact they'd partaken in sex over a handful of time, this was an actual date, a day in which was supposed to be filled with awkward hand-holding, quick, spontaneous kisses and (hopefully) involve a bed at the end. However, their relationship had somehow gone backwards, and they hadn't exactly held hands in a romantic way before. So, Draco simply kept his hands to himself. "What else?"
"What else?" Hermione repeated, her voice slightly cracking as if the thought of thinking of something else was painful. "Um, well, let me think," she said with a laugh. "My absolute favourite colour is yellow, although I am a fan of other light, neutral tones." That comment made Draco think back to Granger's light brown, pink, and cream parent's house. "I love spring and summer, fuzzy socks are my best friends, and if I could only drink one thing for the rest of my life, it would be milkshakes. Not chocolate or vanilla, but – "
"Strawberry," Draco interrupted with a wicked grin. "And I can guess that strawberry ice cream is your favourite as well?" Hermione blushed to her chest, and it took all of Draco's will-power not to follow her reddening skin with his greedy eyes. "Mines pistachio. Love the nuts, too. Always have." He gave a smirk in her direction. "Plus, they're green."
Hermione laughed, and rolled her eyes. "Yes, Malfoy, you and your green. I think if you could marry green, you would."
"Just house pride, Granger. It's just house pride." Malfoy smirked, finally deciding to wrap his arm around her shoulder, just barely touching her.
Hermione usually would tense when Draco would touch her, but today she relaxed to his touch. "If I can change the subject, I'm rather afraid of dying. After seeing the war and everything, and seeing all my friends die...I'm suddenly so frightened of going down the path they went...of just dying. I know I should be excited to see them someday if there is such a thing as afterlife, but I'm not ready to die. I don't think I ever will be..."
As Hermione talked about death, Draco could feel his stomach tightened. He couldn't believe Hermione Granger, War Hero, ever thought about dying. Hell, he never thought she of all people would be afraid of death. "If it makes things better, I'm afraid of dying too," he said truthfully, pulling her closer a bit.
"You are?" Hermione asked quickly. "I would think you wouldn't be, Malfoy. You care for Haley, for your mum, you cared for Astoria...I would think you'd laugh in the face of death."
"Me?" Draco asked. "Laugh in the face of death? Hardly. I'd cower. That's what Slytherin's do, right? Cower." He was quiet for a moment before furthering the matter. "Death is rather frightful to me because I imagine that nobody will ever remember me. That I'll be laughed at, and I won't be able to stand up for myself." He'd never admitted that to anyone, nor had he thought extensively about it. Granger made him think about things that would normally make him uncomfortable. She had a special way of breaking into his mind to the things he wouldn't even admit to himself.
"And another thing about death that I don't like: I don't like the fact that when I die someday, there will be people crying over my dead body. I've never liked the idea of people grieving over my death. I'm not sure why, but I'd rather everyone be happy." She sighed sadly. "I'm sorry I've just been ranting about death."
Draco shook his head and pulled her closer. "It's fine. I'm glad you did," he smiled and kissed her cheek, leaving the smile branded on her skin. "Have I ever told you the story about the day Haley was born?" he asked quietly, keeping his nose just brushing against her ear as he spoke. He thought if they were to talk about death, the great extreme, they might as well talk about the other great extreme: life. He felt Hermione shake her head, and he pulled away from her slightly, and repositioned himself so his lips were directly next to the shell of her ear. "I had just become a certified Healer at the time, and I was still getting used to the corridors of Mungo's. Astoria had gone into labour while I finishing up with a patient, but I hadn't known yet. I was going to clock out when one of the other Healers asked if I could please stand in for him in the East Wing – where the babies are born. He had to go to the bathroom, and he explained that the woman wasn't too far along, and all I had to do was supervise her. I agreed, but the moment I stepped into the room, I could see the baby's head. Another Healer was there, telling her to push, and the woman was screaming back. I thought 'I recognise that scream' and saw that it was Astoria. I apologised for being so late – but didn't add that she never told me, mind you – and minutes later, Haley was born."
"You had no idea Astoria was in labour?" Hermione asked rhetorically with a laugh. "That's classic, Malfoy. I don't know if I find it cute or just stupid!" Draco eventually laughed with Hermione, and it took a good five minutes until their guffaws fell into soft chuckles.
Minutes later, the sky was dark enough to begin the bright, explosive fireworks. As the sparkly, colourful inventions splattered against the sky, Draco found his chest swelling with this unfamiliar feeling when Hermione let her head rest on his shoulder comfortably. He let his own head gently fall on hers as he watched the showcase before them.
The fireworks, which exploded like blooming flowers or the sudden light that floods rooms, shimmered in colours like scarlet red, neon green, and brilliant orange. A few fireworks would go off together in multiple different colours, creating a sort of bouquet look. Others made small sparks that were succeeded by enormous fireworks consisting of ten different colours. It was a rather magical scene.
Throughout the pas de deux of dancing fire, Draco finally grabbed Hermione's hand and interlocked their fingers, not caring any more. He had accepted it to himself that he needed – not wanted, but needed – Granger in his life to function. He was holding her close, and could smell the strawberries on her hair, inferring she used strawberry shampoo, too. Draco felt if he let Hermione go right now, he would not be able to go on with his life. She was all he'd ever need, and he couldn't physically release her body from his arms at the moment.
"You know what would be horribly cliché?" Draco whispered into her ear as if hiding a timid secret. However, they were all alone, sitting in short lawn chairs in an alley, so they was no need to whispering.
"If we kissed right now rather passionately?" Hermione guessed, and Draco could practically hear the smirk in her voice. It was evident throughout her word, and flicked each syllable specially.
"Exactly," he mumbled, his voice going rather husky. He turned, and caught her lips with his, wishing silently that there had been a camera to capture the moment. The moment in which Draco Malfoy could officially say he had fallen in love with Hermione Granger.
Neither of them noticed that the fireworks had soon ceased their sparkling show, leaving the two of them kissing in the darkness. Hermione wondered how long their little cliché kiss would last, but she knew she wanted it to go on forever. It was a kiss she could feel through her entire body. From the little nips Draco took at her bottom lip, to the small squeezes from her hand that made her entire arm go numb, to between her thighs, which was currently feeling uncomfortable in her shorts, all the way to the tips of her toes that gently grazed Draco's calves. Everything felt like the world was coming together perfectly and neatly stitched.
Neither of them knew how, but eventually they untangled themselves from the other's body, and packed up their things into Hermione's bag, hardly ever ceasing their kissing. Draco had dropped Haley off at Narcissa's earlier, thinking most likely he'd bring Hermione home. He was extremely grateful that he had when he pinned Granger against the wall with a sloppy, heated kiss. He was eager, a bit too eager, and had already thrown off her cardigan and pulled her strapless shirt down, exposing her lacy nude bra.
"Draco," she laughed against his lips. "Slow down a bit will you?" Hermione nipped slowly at his lips as he tried to speed things up. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and pulled him closer, feeling the all-too familiar poke in her thigh. She smiled as Draco slowed down his kisses and tugs. "B-bedroom," she muttered.
But before either of them could even comprehend what was happening, Hermione was bare chested up to Draco, and he was kissing multiple lines between her breasts and down again. And again, neither of them realised when Draco had entered her, and had began to give short, quick thrusts. Their vision and hearing was muffled and fogged by the heat of sex.
Normally when Draco and Hermione would engage in sex, their eyes would be closed, finding it too awkward to gaze into each other's eyes. However, today felt rather different, and almost at once, they both looked at each other, silver eyes against gold. For the first time, Hermione noticed, Draco's eyes didn't seem dilated from lust. In fact, they seemed solely fixed on her, rather than the event they were about to partake in. It was calming almost, and Hermione found herself transfixed on Draco's loving gaze as he slowly found her lips once again.
In that kiss, Hermione found it incredibly impossible not to fall in love right then and there. The kiss felt smooth, like she were kissing petals, but it contrasted well with the roughness of Draco's tongue. She felt the sensation of his lips dancing across hers, and she rolled her hips against his to create more friction, upset at the little pleasure she was receiving. The fabric of the sheets over their bodies created like a shield of protection of the outside world, of what Hermione knew was inevitable.
She ended up on top at the end, only because she had reached her orgasm first, and had repositioned them to help Draco. It was in that position, riding him to his content, that Hermione had finally accepted the fact that Draco Malfoy, though the past-incorrigible git he was, had created a permanent mark in her. Not one that was physical that someone could see, but one she could hold dear to her heart. It was a mark that she could hold in her heart, one that she hoped resembled a tall, gitty, handsome blond that when he smiled made the sun stop shining, and so the last eight minutes of sunshine shined down on him.
Hermione let herself slide out of him when Draco had finally cum inside her. There was silence that should have been awkward but instead was full of feelings. Feelings that instead of made Hermione's insides twist around and around like a pre-teen crush, made her feel replenished, almost as if she had been reborn. Almost as if her life until now had been the incessant waiting room to Living. She had sat in the waiting room, in the same white chair, day after day, seeing people she loved like Harry and Ginny pass through the door to Living hand and hand. She had been sitting for so long, it had almost made her go mental.
But she sighed with relief as she wrapped her arms around Draco's perspired chest, and burrowed her face in the crook of his neck. She could almost imagine taking his hand, and finally walking through the door.
§
In the morning, Hermione found herself in the same position again, but this time Draco's chest was dry, and she wasn't nearly as out of breath as before. It was then that she realised despite the epiphany she had the night before, the sex was...medium. Nothing crazy or sensual that they've had, but just in the middle. And it wasn't nearly as heated and pleasurable as some rounds in the past. It was just...sex.
Hermione pondered on this fact for a while, and she just listened to the sound of Draco's heart thump inside his chest. It pumped blood to every part of his body – and she noticed a part of him was getting rather stiff from the blood – and provided him with perfect life. The pounding noise sounded more like a beating drum than a beating heart, and Hermione could almost imagine a dance in her head to it. The hits and beats were right on, but as she developed the dance further in her head, her movements became too slow for the thumps of Draco's heart, and it took her a moment to realise why. It wasn't until the blond kissed the top of her unruly brown hair that Hermione's eyes met Draco's that looked like slits. "Good morning," she whispered, and bent forward to brush her lips against his. She didn't know if it was too intimate of a gesture, but both of their lips were completely swollen, and she decided to take full use of it.
Draco hummed against her lips before pulling back, and resting his head on the frame of the bed. "Good morning to you, too. You look riveting," he teased. "I love the hairstyle you're sporting." He motioned to Hermione's brown curls, and she reached up, expecting to feel their natural puffiness, but instead felt an unnatural excess of volume on the right side – more than usual, at least.
"Oh, Merlin!" she exclaimed. "Must've slept on it wrong!" She glanced in a mirror to see her hair practically sticking out horizontally on the right side. She quickly patted it down as best as she could. It was a little better, not perfect, but better. "I look absolutely horrible," she laughed, blushing all the way to the tips of her toes.
"Did you forget?" Draco asked, grabbing her hands in his. "I called you riveting. Now, I might be mistaken, but riveting is the greatest word of flattery." He pulled her closer to him, and pressed a calm kiss to her lips. That kiss seemed to have melted away any and all of Granger's insecurities, and he felt her pour all of herself into that one kiss.
"I hardly forgot," Hermione whispered after she finally let herself pull away. She went to go in for another kiss when she heard the familiar sound of talons against a window. She let out an exhale that brushed along Draco's lips and beneath his nose, and the feeling went straight to his groin.
"That must be Augustus," he grumbled. "He's my owl. Probably got the Prophet or something." He pecked Hermione's lips lightly. "Bloody owl always gets in the way of everything." However, this wasn't exactly true. Augustus hadn't actually been around in a long time, which had worried Draco greatly. He'd had the eagle owl since he started Hogwarts.
But before he could even begin to stand up, Hermione was on her feet and shoving on her shorts, shirt and cardigan from the night before. Instead of being askew around the room as they normally would, her clothes were neatly in a pile near the door. "Don't worry, I've got it. You get dressed." That meant no morning sex, which disappointed Draco greatly.
However, he didn't complain as he got a nice view of the witch's arse as she swayed her hips out of the room and down the stairs. He groggily rolled out of bed, and shrugged on a pair of sweats and a white t-shirt. Draco ran his hands through his platinum hair a few times as a brushing, and then went into the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face.
He had just dried off his wet face when Draco heard Hermione clear her voice. He didn't look up, but waved a hand to inform her he was listening. "Who's Ginger?" she asked, her voice weak, as if she had spent the last few minutes not saying a single word. At first, the name was foreign to Draco. He'd never heard of someone – or maybe something – named Ginger. No right person would ever name their child Ginger, it was a name he expected a stripper to have, or –
"Shit," he muttered, trying to be quiet enough so that Granger didn't hear him. Ginger was the name of the hooker, wasn't it? he thought to himself. That was way back in October, right ? Granger couldn't possibly be angry over something that happened almost a year ago...could she? Draco turned to face Hermione, expecting the worst. But what his expectations were did nothing to prepare him for what actually happened.
Hermione held up two items. One was a pamphlet that said, (in bold green letters that sparkled) THE LONDON ANNUAL STRIPPER CONVENTION IS BACK! COME TO RESERVE A SPECIAL SPOT AND BE TREATED WELL BY OUR BEAUTIFUL STAFF! SECOND TIME PRICE IS ONLY 55 GALLEONS! RSVP YOUR OWN ROOM FOR THE FULL THRILL! SAME WEEKEND: SECOND WEEKEND IN OCTOBER.
The second item, which Hermione was holding by its corner as if poisonous, was a card. On the front was the hooker, Ginger, and she kept blowing kisses and making sexual faces towards Draco. He blushed a deep red colour so vibrant he was certain it didn't have a classification yet. The card was strawberry red with lime green letters that read: 'Miss you! Come back for a second round, will you?' Hermione violently open the card so hard that a piece of the crease ripped off. A photograph featuring Draco kissing Ginger hungrily and pushing her one the bed floated down to the ground slowly. Hermione stopped it with her foot, crushing the picture beneath her heeled feet. "Care to explain all of this Draco? Or am I just going to have to guess?" she asked through gritted teeth.
"N-no, Hermione, give me a moment, I can explain everything, just – " Draco gave a loud groan. She had pounced this on him so suddenly. He didn't have time to think, to make up a speech. When put on the spot like this, Draco was a horrible, babbling mess. "I-uh," he thought. Hermione strained her neck as she waited, maybe thinking if she could hear better, Draco would speak sooner.
"Because what it looks like to me is that you went to a strip club, am I correct?" she asked. Draco gave a small nod, and she gave a satisfied look, like when Sherlock Holmes solves a case, and is proven to be – yet again – correct.
"What's wrong with going to strip clubs?" Draco snapped back. "I'm only human, Granger. Humans go to strips clubs, and humans shag hookers. It's a bachelor's lifestyle, Granger, understand?" Draco suddenly found himself closer to Hermione than he was originally. He followed every line of her face with his eyes. From the arch of her eyebrows down to the curve of her nose, the mountains of her lips, that when she smiled (which she, sadly, currently wasn't) would connect to the valleys of her eyes. Every part of her looked perfect, even when she was utterly mad at him.
Hermione rolled her perfect brown eyes that were looking less perfect now, and scoffed. "I'm not daft, Malfoy! One, I know strip clubs are normal. But two, did you not read this?" she asked, flinging the pamphlet to his face. "It says the next 'Annual Stripper Convention' will be held the same time as last: the second weekend of October. That's the weekend I watched Haley for you while you had a 'business meeting' wasn't it?" Again, Draco went quiet. "They don't call me the brightest witch of my age for nothing, you know," she said softly, although the subtext of her voice was anger and frustration.
Draco rolled his eyes, and took a step back. "I'll have you know that Blaise Zabini made me go! I didn't want to, but that 'friend' of mine is a horn-monster! He persuaded me to do it, Granger. I never would have gone be it not for him." He watched as Hermione rolled her eyes. It was as if that motion went straight to his heart and it made it break. "You-you don't believe me..." he said with suddenly realisation.
Hermione's face was guilty of mistrust. Her eyebrows had fallen, and her lips were in a slightly pointed position. Her eyes looked as if they were physically drooping, as if she was mad at herself for not believing him. "It's just so hard," she whispered. "I poured out so much to you yesterday. I've wasted eight months on you, Draco Malfoy! Eight months that I could've spent on my work, or invested in somebody else other than someone I knew – I knew so perfectly well – could hurt me. I let myself become involved in your life, and I let you invade me in every personal way. But now I know you can throw me away just as easily as this 'Ginger' girl!"
"Granger!" Draco exclaimed, and practically marched forward towards her. "I slept with Ginger, or whatever her real name is, a good while before I even kissed you! Does it really matter if I slept with her? I slept with numerous girls at Hogwarts, and I slept with Astoria, and none of those things have ever bothered you before!" Hermione bit her lip, and looked down. "Wait – it bothers you? Why the hell would it?"
"Because – because!" Hermione said exasperatedly. "I was fine before because I knew you slept with girls back when I was still in school, long before any of this happened. I had already accepted it. Then when I saw you had a daughter, well, you have to have sex to do that, and when you mentioned your wife had died, then that automatically meant you had been rather abstinent for a while." She ignored Draco's comment of "not my choice" and continued talking. "But until now, I thought I was the only one you had been intimate with in a while and I...I guess this changes things."
Draco was entirely confused. "How the hell does this change things?" he asked, his voice getting a bit louder. "All I know is that you're just confusing me! This is bullshit, Hermione! I slept with that woman back in October when we weren't even acquaintances! She has no connection to me whatsoever! She's just a number!" As soon as the words fell out of his mouth, Draco knew it was the wrong thing to say. If he had a Time Turner, he'd go back one hour and wake up early, stop the letter from ever reaching Hermione's hands, and make sure to bury that in the past. Then they could still be sleeping, maybe even have morning sex, and then Draco could have held Hermione close to his chest and everything would be okay. But at the moment, nothing seemed okay. He usually was the one angry at her, not the other way around. This was definitely not okay. Not okay.
"A NUMBER?" Hermione screamed, her voice going high. "Never mind, Malfoy, I can't believe I even thought you could have a heart. Just because she was someone you didn't think you'd have a future with doesn't make her not a human. She's a human and a female with a life and a name other than Ginger! I am sick of this, Malfoy! First, you lied to me by saying you had a business meeting, second, you slept with a prostitute, and third, you called her a number! Just because she spread her legs for you willingly doesn't make her any less of a person! Or does it in your mind? Am I now a number? What am I, number 69?" she scoffed, and crossed her arms over her chest she couldn't believe she let him touch.
"Granger, you aren't a number," Draco said, his voice going a bit quieter than he wished. "Listen to me, please. I didn't mean to say it. You're different, Hermione. There's a reason I've held onto you for so long, regardless of anything in the past. You are the reason I changed, Hermione! I've changed because of you!"
Hermione rolled her eyes, not finding any of Draco's words even remotely truthful. "Then I must've been a horrible influence on you..." she muttered. She felt like crying. She had trusted Draco, and now it felt like she was dangling from a single red thread suspended around his waist. She could see him with his scissors teasingly circling her thread. She could picture herself screaming for him to give her a chance, to not cut the thread, her only lifeline. Her mind seemed to be working in reverse, and instead of walking through the door to Living with Draco, they had rewound, and she was left to be chained to her chair forever. She imagined seeing Draco walk through the door with multiple women hanging from his arms.
They were quiet for a moment, and Draco broke the silence. "When will you finally accept my answer?" he asked. "When will you realise that I'm being truthful, Hermione? You're over-analysing everything! I have no idea what's going on in your mind, but there's nothing wrong with me going to strip clubs!"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Are you kidding me, Draco? Think about it; if you can hook up with any women you wish and just leave her behind, what am I? I'm nothing! I'm exactly the same! I'm a whore. I can't believe you would sink so low as to sleep with a prostitute, Draco! And then got me to sleep with you and – ugh! I can't believe you, I really can't, Draco!" She wasn't yelling, but it was more of talking in an assertive tone, almost as if she was reprimanding him. "If you can let go of just a random hook-up so easily, can't you do the same with me?"
"It's different with you!" Draco persisted, and he stepped forward to grab her arms. He missed and grabbed her wrists instead, which caused Hermione to scowl and practically push herself against the wall to escape Draco. It felt so weird, to have been holding her close to him just a mere twenty minutes ago, and now Hermione seemed to want nothing to do with him. "You aren't like the others!"
And there it was, the tip of the iceberg. The icing on the cake. The last straw. "The others? So you categorise me with them?" she spat the latter pronoun as if it were poison, something Draco knew he would do in the past with Hermione's old unfortunate nickname. "That's it," she said quietly, and turned on her heel. Draco heard the patters of her feet on the stairs as she hurried down them. He raced down after her, feeling déjà vu for reasons he didn't know.
"No, Granger, I didn't mean it like that I – " Draco cut himself off as he turned the corner to see her crying at the threshold. He was puzzled for a moment, and tore apart the scene in front of him. Granger's eyes were pooling with tears, and her mouth had contorted to this strange smile-frown. Her nose was gradually becoming redder as time passed, and her body shook every few seconds. Had it not been for her normally strong stature, Draco would've guessed she was going to throw up from her strange convulsions. His eyes rested on her right hand which held the knob tightly in her grasp. She looked upset, almost as if she were sorry for something.
"I'm leaving," she whispered, and the giant tears finally rolled down her face. She looked down almost shamefully, and let out a long, jagged breath. Hermione's voice was quiet, almost like that of a frightened mouse, and it didn't suit her very well.
"You've made that quite obvious," Draco grumbled to himself. He watched her body, and she shifted uncomfortably. Why wasn't she leaving? Why say 'I'm leaving' and then stay stationary. It made no sense to him, but he watched, intrigued by Hermione's cryptic being.
She finally looked back up, and the tears had stood. They still threatened to fall, but didn't find their ways down the forgone trails. "No, Draco, I'm leaving." She could tell he still didn't understand, so she took a deep breath to continue. "I'm leaving Britain. I got a scholarship a long time ago for the most prestigious magical dance company in the world. But it's in Russia." Her voice had started to become stronger, and she looked more angry now. "I was so afraid to tell you. I thought about turning down this once in a lifetime oppurtunity for the studio here...and for you. But I didn't." Hermione was fuming now, and the tears were fully scorching her cheeks. "You're a bastard, and I can't believe I didn't see it earlier."
"Hermione, wait, I – " But Draco was too late. At Hermione's last words, she had turned the knob and fled the place, bracing the warm August heat that contrasted in the cold argument. An argument in which Draco didn't know who won. But he supposed it didn't matter any more. Hermione was gone. He didn't know if she was bluffing and would be back tomorrow to apologise, but for now she was gone. Gone like his slowly burning paper heart.
§
Hermione had all her bags packed, including the new pointe shoes the Weasley's had got her for Christmas. They knew she'd need them, and she was incredibly grateful. Russia was going to be such a new experience, and she needed new shoes. They sat in her carry-on above her head on the plane, and Hermione closed her eyes, knowing it would be a long flight to Moscow, and she'd need her sleep.
Lacey was taking over the studio along with the other teachers. If things went well in Moscow, Hermione wouldn't go back, and Lacey would be the new owner. It didn't upset Hermione or scare her. In fact, she was rather happy.
Of course her mind had never left the thought of Draco since their fight nearly a week ago. As Hermione saw London grow smaller beneath her, she felt regret in never saying goodbye to Haley, and for never telling her where she was going. Draco, for all she cared, could rot in hell.
She didn't need to care or think about him any more though, she had tried to tell herself. Life would be new and different in Russia, without a Malfoy to distract her. It almost felt like she was being reborn. Reborn to dance.
A/N: I apologise for the wait, but I have my reasons.
On the 9/4/13, I lost my grandmother to pneumonia, lost my great grandfather on 15/4/13 to old age, and my good friend Allie to a car crash last night, so I've been grieving a bit. I've also been up to my eyeballs in a research paper and the play I'm going to be in next weekend.
I'm sort of sad because of the deaths recently. I dedicated this chapter to my grandmother, (Shirley) and I hope you liked it. It's quite a game-changer, and things will never be the same now. The person who was the closest in their guess what ANEwrites, so congratulations!
Please Review, Favourite and Follow, since it makes me happy and smile. I love you guys so much, so tell me your thoughts about this and the whole surprise of Hermione leaving to go to a Russian ballet company!
Well, I think that's all. Sorry that I'm not super excited and happy and all.
Oh, and title comes from the song "Silver and Gold" from Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer :)
-Eagles