Draco Malfoy never liked arguing, neither with his friends nor with his family. He liked even less with his goody-two-shoes wife. He had always wondered why she had to be so perfect. How come she'd never slip and fall? Why did she always have to be the voice of reason and conscience? Even though he loved her, sometimes he wished Hermione wasn't right most of the time, anything that would make them even. Something to balance her goodness and his imperfection.
But there was nothing he could say or do that would make things better at once. All he had left was his insistence. All he could do was try and persuade her with his best romancing techniques. He had to come up with something, anything that would help him get her back. Because that was what he wanted the most: to be with her again.
How could he, though? No if what she demanded of him was to stain his honor by apologizing to a weasel. Malfoys never apologize to their enemies, his father had taught him that, and Draco was willing to take that advice. No, he'd never apologize to a Weasley of all people. And, if his wife couldn't understand that… she'd have to learn to stand him anyway, because there was no way in hell he'd let her get away again. Draco would follow her to the end of the world if he had to, but he wasn't willing to lose his dignity to another man, or weasel.
An entire day had passed by since their last argument, and he already was feeling an unknown urge to see her. Anxiety and fear were his predominant feelings; fear, not of her of course, but of losing her again.
"What are you doing there, Draco? I've seen you staring through that window for I don't know how long." It was his mother who asked that. What he was doing… it was hard to explain. Sometimes he'd just needed to do that to think, look to a window, staring at nothing in particular.
"I am just thinking, mother. I need to find a way to get Hermione back." Replied Draco, turning his back to look at his mother's face as they spoke.
"Well, you most certainly will not get her back looking through a window. Have you sent her flowers? That's always a good thing to do."
Draco shook his head slowly. "That didn't work the other day."
"Of course not, because you threw them at her!" Narcissa scolded him with stern eyes, taping her foot.
"How do you know about that?" Wondered a blushing Draco.
"Hermione told her mother, her mother told me. I can't begin to tell you how embarrassed I was. I did not raise you to have such tantrums, Draco; and at your wife of all people!" The woman was at the verge of yelling, but her upbringing wouldn't allow it. Instead, she made a point of add emphasis to her words. She continued: "I couldn't apologize enough, of course Hyppolyta told me it wasn't my fault, and I agree that you are the one who's supposed to apologize, but you should have known better, we raised you to be a gentleman…"
His mother was starting to blame herself, and boy, that was never good. The last thing he needed was to comfort his soon-to-be-depressed mother. He had to do something fast. Anything. The first thing that came to his mind was one of the best advices his father ever gave him about women: they were always willing to help, because helping made them feel useful.
"I need your help, mother." He interrupted her all of the sudden, surprising Narcissa, who thought that her son needed to work on his manners. Still, his words touched her heart, and she was instantly at his disposition.
"What can I do for you, dear?" She asked with a hint of curiosity in her facial expression.
"I messed up; how can I make it up to her?" He wondered raking a hand through his silky blond hair.
"I am afraid there aren't any magical formulas I know of that could help you, Draco. You will have to insist and persist, I see no other choice. Give her flowers—nicely—give her chocolates, apologize as often as you can, and, for Merlin's sake, mean it." When she finished her sentence, she stepped forward, getting closer to her son, and put a hand on his shoulder. "I understand you wanted revenge, dear, but… to go such extent? ? Why not just punch him in the face and threaten him or something like that?"
"You don't understand, mother; when they kissed… I was reminded of how little I meant to her, how much she despised me and the course her life had taken, our marriage. And that weasel… I just couldn't stand it." Said Draco with fury in his eyes and, specially, in his voice.
"Well, may be Hermione should hear that."Narcissa commented, and then turned around to walk away, leaving the room.
Maybe, thought Draco, but wouldn't that be showing weakness? It was one thing confessing his feelings to his mother; it was different when it came to his wife.
Draco went back to the Zabini Manor. There he was greeted by a stern face Hyppolyta who in spite of her feelings couldn't forget her manners.
"Good afternoon, Draco; are you looking for Hermione? Or may be Blaise?"
"For Hermione, actually. And I mean to apologize to you as well, Mrs. Zabini, for all the pain I've caused your daughter."
Hyppolyta shook her head slowly, with a bit of sadness in her eyes, but still maintaining the scold on her face. "I know you meant well, Draco, but I can't disagree more with you. I didn't promise you to my daughter to have her hurt like this."
"It is my intention to mend what needs mending" Said a confident Draco.
"I hope you can, for my daughter's sake." Commented Hyppolyta, and after a short pause, she continued: "Hermione had an unfortunate argument with her brother and decided she couldn't be here with him any longer; so she packed her things and left for her father's house… again."
An argument with Blaise; knowing them both, that meant they had a huge fight; otherwise Hermione wouldn't have left again. It just wasn't normal, leaving from one place to another and then to another, it couldn't be good for her. It couldn't be good for anyone.
So Draco traveled to Hermione's father's house, the place she had for so long called home. He was through accepting limits, thus he wasn't going to stall, he'd just get to the point and be as truthful as possible. He had to fly there, for Hermione had not connected her chimney to the floo network, and he didn't want to apparate, it would seem rude of him to do so. So, as he arrived there, he knocked on the door twice, and patiently waited.
A couple minutes passed by, and no answer came along. Could she be out? Or maybe she saw him and was refusing to answer the door? Both were pretty possible. Instead of insisting by knocking at the door again, he attempted to check the windows, just to see if she was actually inside. He looked through three, four, five windows, but couldn't see anybody. May be the backyard? There was a fence that demarcated it, and he couldn't just leap it. He looked around; there was no one in sight, so it wouldn't hurt if he used his broom to overlook the backyard. So he flew over to the roof of the house, and there he saw them: The weasel and his wife, they were having tea in the backyard, they were laughing.
A sudden explosion of jealousy overcame him. They were happy together; Hermione smiled at Weasley and held his hand. Why was she holding his hand? It probably was the only kind of affection they could show for one another without getting hurt. And without Draco knowing.
It hurt him to do so, but he couldn't stop looking at them; he couldn't hear them, nor did he want to, but he could imagine the sort of talk they were having, because he knew the way Hermione was smiling, and that smile… he had thought it was only for him. Crouching down on the roof, it took him several minutes to decide to leave. Old feelings accompanied him, as he thought Hermione was probably better off without him… after all, she loved the weasel, didn't she? But she had told Draco she loved him… she had been worried about him, she wanted him to live… and he was there for her, wasn't he? Could it be that she had changed her mind? No, it didn't make sense, one doesn't tell a person she loves him and then takes it back… Hermione had to love him still. It had passed a day only; she couldn't have gotten over him in one day.
He was getting anxious, he needed something… coffee! That would do. So he decided to go for a cup of coffee to a café in the wizarding neighborhood; he couldn't return home, his mother wouldn't be please to see him back without Hermione, and one woman mad at him was enough for one day.
He went in, looked for an empty table, and sat down on a dark wooden chair with a serious façade. From the outside, no one could tell how much he was hurting, but that was usual of him. Draco noticed how a woman from the bar looked at him, so interested, as if he was a prey. She was good-looking, but she wasn't Hermione, and, anyway, he couldn't have her. He was reminded then of something his wife had said some time ago, she had asked him if he had ever fancied someone else and then realized… that there was no way in hell they could be together. Well, she hadn't put it that way, but there was the idea. Right now, at that moment, he understood it, and regretted not being able to get back at her. At that moment, only a curse prevented him from doing so. Whatever was the point of that curse, he had no idea; probably make him miserable… although, seeing the bright side, it was the only thing preventing the love of his life from being with another man… or weasel.
Yes, Hermione was the love of his life, not because she was the only woman he could ever be with, but because he truly loved her; of that he was sure. And he had probably lost her. He had been waiting for his ring to burn; he was slightly surprised it hadn't happened now… Hermione and the weasel looked so close together… it should have been him the one there with her, it should have been him the one to receive her smiles. It should be him.
"Malfoy!" A familiar voice greeted him, taking him away from his thoughts for a moment. He turned around and saw someone he hadn't seen in a long time: Theodore Nott, and a serious looking girl, noticeably pregnant, by his side.
Before Draco could reply anything, Nott placed a third chair on the table and invited the girl, who was surely his wife, to sit. "How have you been? I heard you got married in quite a quick ceremony."
Great, not only he had been found by a person who should be in Azkaban, but also he had to talk to him… about his marriage nonetheless. "Indeed." Replied Draco, and turned his sight to look at the girl sitting in front of him, while Theodore sat next to her.
"This is my wife, Druscilla Nott." Said a proud Theodore.—"We got married ten months ago."
By the face of the girl, and by all he knew about the Nott family, he could guess they had been married in the same circumstances Hermione and him had. She was clearly not in love with him, in fact, it would seem she despised him. While Theodore was all smiles, Druscilla looked so dead serious she was probably upset to be there.
"My condolences." Draco said, half joking. Thankfully, Theodore took it as a joke and laughed, while Druscilla only gave him half a smile, since she realized Draco had meant those condolences for her.
"Where's your wife anyway? I haven't seen her since…"—The trials, Draco thought for himself, but surely Theodore was not going to mention that.—"…since Hogwarts, I believe."
It didn't go unnoticed for Draco that Nott had not mentioned who his wife was, he was probably omitting that information out of courtesy, because it was obvious he wanted to talk about it. Draco didn't feel like it.
"Home." Answered Draco, not that he cared about lying to Theodore Nott of all people. He wondered, however, how was his marriage like, but he couldn't ask him there, in public and in front of his wife. Anyhow, he turned his attention to Theodore's wife and smiled at her politely.—"How is it going?" He didn't mention it openly, but they all understood he was referring to the girl's pregnancy.
"Horribly."—Answered the girl, and neither of the boys at the table knew for certain if she was referring to the pregnancy of their marriage. Draco believed it was most probably the last thing.
"Come on, dear, it can't be that bad." Nott spoke, taking one of her hands in his and squeezing it gently. Draco noticed she was unresponsive to his touch, and made a face of feeling disgusted by it, but that Theo either ignored it or didn't perceive it.
"Trust me, dear, it can."—She replied to him, not looking at him in the face, and clearly saying dear without any feeling whatsoever.
Now that was a marriage he was glad he didn't have. He knew Nott, not too much, but well enough, and he was sure of one thing about him: he was no good, ten times worse than him. Nott's wife probably suffered a lot, because her husband was no easy person to be with, he wasn't like Draco, patient and polite, he was more aggressive and dangerous. He wouldn't have waited for his wife to care about him, he would have forced her. That would have led to hatred, and it was clear Druscilla hated her husband. She wasn't just pissed, like Hermione had been so many times at him for so many different reasons, she just hated him, and couldn't get away from him.
"So, boy or girl?" Asked Draco, feigning interest while at the same time trying to change the subject.
"Thankfully a boy." Curiously enough, they both answered the same thing at the same time. They looked at each other after that with raised eyebrows. The scene would have probably been funny had there not been such tension on the air.
"…So I don't have to have any more." Finished Druscilla.
"And my family will have a rightful heir to go on with the family name." Said Nott. He smiled proudly, and then continued talking to Draco.—"You know, if your wife had a girl…"
Druscilla bit her lip, but said nothing. She was probably scared of her husband, so it wasn't like she could speak her mind. Draco, on the other hand, wasn't scared of Nott. "Are you kidding? Just having a kid would be too much to ask of her."—And, if we did, no arrangements would be made… and less with a Nott, thought Draco. There was no way in hell he would commit either a boy or a girl to a Nott.
"How come?" Asked Nott.
"She's just not into it. She wants to study and then get a job; she's all modern, you know." Replied Draco shrugging. In truth, he wasn't sure Hermione wanted kids, he was surely more eager than her.
Both Notts looked surprised, but neither spoke. "Not that we need the money, it would just be a hobby for her." Said Draco in response to their unspoken question.
"Well… your wife always was… very interested in studying." Commented Nott, and his wife was picked by curiosity.
"I've never met her, but she sure sounds like an interesting person." Said Druscilla. "Do you think we could meet? I'd love to invite her for tea." She was asking for permission to her husband, now that was an ugly sight to see.
"Sure, darling. That would be great." Replied Theodore and smiled at his wife; it was the first time Draco saw the girl returned the smile. She probably wasn't allowed to have much of a social life.—"In fact, we should all have dinner together sometime."
Hermione wasn't into social gatherings, so she'd probably refuse the invitation; it would be good for her, however, to meet Mrs. Nott, so she could realize just how lucky she is to have him as her husband.
"I'll talk to her about it." Said Draco in response to Theodore's suggestion. He had no idea of how he'd convince Hermione to go, but she had to forgive him someday…
Theodore was slightly amazed, probably because he couldn't conceive having a wife that didn't take orders from her husband. And his wife looked melancholic, she'd surely want a husband like Draco.
After chatting with the Notts for a while, Draco decided to go again to Hermione's house. He didn't care if she was still with the weasel, he'd interrupt them. His ring hadn't burned after all, so they hadn't been too close. And that was a good sign.
So, for the second time that day, he stood in front of the door of Hermione's house. He didn't consider that house his, even though it technically was, because it had always belonged to Hermione. Anyhow, he knocked on the door, not aware that there was a bell.
Thankfully, Hermione opened the door. There was a slight frown on her face when she saw him. "What are you doing here?" She asked tiredly.
"What do you think? I'm here for you." Replied Draco, crossing his arms over his chest.—"Look, I know I messed up again; but can't we at least talk about it?"
"What's there to talk about?"—She questioned.—"I don't want to have anything to do with you."
Draco bit his lip for a moment, and then continued: "Yes you do, you love me as I love you. You want us to work out. You are just pissed."
Hermione crossed her arms over her chest, closed her eyes and took a deep breath before answering. She didn't want to lose her patience; neither did she want to see her husband at that time, but that just how life was for her. She wasn't going to get what she wanted.
"You are not even able to apologize for what you did and yet you want me to listen to you." It was ana statement filled with irony and aggression
"If I apologized to him, it wouldn't mean anything because I don't give a damn about him."—He said in a determined manner.—"I can apologize to you, however, and mean it."
"That's supposed to be touching?" She asked with sarcasm in her voice.
"It's the truth." He said sourly.
Hermione remained there, staring at him with a serious face. Well, at least she was making eye-contact, thought Draco.
"Come on, Hermione; we won't get anywhere if we go on like this."
She was about to say something, but clearly changed her mind and said something different: "All right, do come in." Hermione stepped aside to let him pass. When he went in, he could see what a mess that living room was: it would seem no one had cleaned since the place was put under quarantine. There was dust everywhere, stains of orange smoke, and a curious smell to old wood.
Draco was about to ask if he was supposed to sit there, but he thought it twice and decided not to. Still, he'd rather stand.
"I know, it's a mess. I haven't had time to clean the entire house." Commented a tired and upset Hermione. She was unconsciously standing next to Draco, staring at the living room as he was.
"You know, you don't have to…" He started, but was soon interrupted.
"I know I don't need to clean by myself. But I like doing it; it's one of the few things I have left of my old life." Said Hermione; curiously enough, there didn't seem to be any melancholy in her voice, she was just plain serious.
There was tension in the air, it was pretty clear. Draco stepped closer to Hermione and stood in front of her. She arched an eyebrow and eyed him with a curious look; in any other circumstances she wouldn't have minded, but right now he was too close for comfort.
"Don't" She whispered as she realized Draco was getting closer to kiss her. "You can't mend things with a kiss."
Draco sighed and gave one step back. "How can I mend it?" He asked.
"I don't know."—She said honestly.—"I just don't know." Hermione shrugged as she said that, and her features showed sadness. Draco wanted to reach for her and comfort her, but she wasn't going to let him.
"Let me try."—He said, and then remembered Theodore's invitation.—"An old friend invited us to dinner, we could go."
"An old friend?"—Hermione said suspicious.—"Most of your old friends are in Azkaban." She arched an eyebrow and waited patiently for his response. It was clear he didn't want to answer that question, and yet, he did.
"Well, yeah, most of them. But this one had a very good defense in the trials and… well, he got away." Uncomfortable, he finished his sentence, hoping for a miracle.
"And why in the world would I want to have dinner with… who is he anyway? Do I know him?"
Draco nodded his head and gulped. "Theodore Nott."
Hermione opened her eyes wide and stared at him in surprise. "You want me to have dinner with Theodore Nott?! Are you joking?"
"And his wife, Druscilla; I'm sure you'd like her." Said Draco and sighed deeply. "Of course, if you don't want to…"
"Of course I don't want to. For Merlin's sake, Draco, why in the world would you think otherwise? And what were you doing talking to that guy? You are not supposed to meet with former Death Eaters!" She exclaimed.
"I was at a café and he came to me; it wasn't my fault. I couldn't ignore him."
"I don't want you to meet with that kind of people, Draco."—Said Hermione with a new emotion: worry. She was preoccupied for him; that couldn't be bad.
"So you care about me?" He said with a smug smile, and made Hermione sigh in desperation.
"Of course I care about you… I love you, you idiot." She murmured in a soft voice.—"I just can't find it in my heart to forgive you yet; why did you do it, Draco? Why?"
Then, Draco remembered what his mother had told him: `May be Hermione should hear that`. And he was resolved to tell her, right then, at that moment; even if it hurt his pride to do so.
"When you kissed him…" He said the words with spite, as if the memory hurt him. "When I found out, I was reminded of how much you despised me, and I couldn't bear it, Hermione. I wanted you to care about me, I wanted to have a life with you, but I didn't know how to… and Weasley, he had it so easy, and you loved him and not me… I had to get him away from you."
"You had no right." said Hermione."I can understand your jealousy, I can understand your anger… but I cannot understand how you could do something like that, then lie about it… and be with me? We were together for months, and all the joy you brought me turned to… to this. It's like… It's like being with you was a lie."
"It wasn't a lie." Replied Draco, taken aback by her words. In truth, he hadn't thought about it like that. "Our life together has never been a lie, Hermione."
"Hasn't it?" Asked her with a grimace in her face. There was a short pause in which she tried to choose her words very carefully, then, she continued: "We've had rough lives, and an especially rough marriage. I fell in love with you, but when that happened, I thought you were different, that you wouldn't betray me."
The words echoed in his mind and run down to his heart; it hurt him deeply to hear her say that. Had he really caused so much pain to her of all people? He stared, dumbfounded, at her beautiful brown eyes, she looked so sad, and it was all his fault. How could he ever mend it? How could he ever forgive himself? And then people wondered why he didn't care about risking his life with a concealment curse.
"I am so sorry, Hermione." This time, his apology sounded so sincere it actually caught Hermione's ears " I never meant to hurt you."
She stared at him; he looked so vulnerable, Hermione had never seen him like that. Draco Malfoy always had walls built up around him, walls very difficult to penetrate. There were only a few true emotions that he showed, such as joy and anger; but… hurt? In his mind, and in his mind only, showing hurt meant showing weakness, and Malfoys were not supposed to show weakness. At least that's what he always said. Surprised by her own feelings, Hermione wanted to reach for him and comfort him, when it was actually her the one who was supposed to be hurt. Something, however, stopped her, and Draco closed his hands in fists, hurting his fingers in the process.
Before Hermione could say anything, he spoke: "I want to make things right. So I won't ask you to forgive me. Goodbye." After saying that, he turned around and walked away. Hermione watched him as he left, unable to speak.
Once the door was closed behind him, Hermione seemed to regain consciousness, and repeated his last word in her mind. Why had he said goodbye?
O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O
a/n: So, here it is. Next chapter is the last one! So be prepared :)