Chapter Thirty: When There Are No Words
(May 1st)
Part 1: Something to ruin
Rain battered the flimsy umbrella that they were sharing.
And to Draco, it sounded as if there were hundreds of angry bees trying to tear through the nylon and sting them. But he held the large umbrella over them, steadfast, not moving or speaking – only watching. Funny thing was, they both were in the business of watching. But—they were watching completely different things. Draco was watching the back of Hermione's head as it slowly frizzed even more from the rain. And Granger was watching the doors of the Daily Prophet, just waiting for Parvati to come waltzing out.
Draco checked his watch. They had at least another five minutes before that would happen. He then shifted his weight a bit, only to discover that the bottom of his trousers were wet.
Wonderful, he grimaced in annoyance.
It had been her idea to stand out here. He would've preferred waiting in the restaurant just across the street. It was drier, for a start, but the view from their table was terrible. This, to his utmost dismay, was the best spot. It would have been better had it not been raining, but the weather wasn't entirely surprising. Rain seemed to be, not just the story of the week so far, but the story of their entire journey up until this moment. Draco would think it eerie if it weren't at least drizzling. He would also think it strange if Hermione were calm and composed.
But she wasn't.
Though she'd done a fantastic job of pretending, it had been the little things had given her away.
His suspicion had started over the massive breakfast that she'd fixed, but found himself distracted by the company of Blaise and Pansy to really give it much thought. It had grown when she showed up at his office, unannounced, and spent nearly an hour pacing back and forth while he read over case files—or tried to, at least. He'd assumed that her pacing was out of impatience, and took her to lunch where she'd punished her food by stabbing it with a fork until he moved the plate out of her reach. And then the fork. But it was only five minutes ago, just when they'd first started "Parvati Watch", that he'd finally confirmed his suspicions.
And all that she did was reach for his hand.
But it wasn't hand-holding of the bone-crunching, blood flow-constricting variety, it was…odd, needy even.
Fearful.
Draco couldn't say that he shared her apprehension. He just wanted all of this to be over and would do his part to ensure that it happened. But nervous? Not at all, but this wasn't about him, was it? This was about her getting a chance to confront the Weasley girl and tackle the real issue at hand. It was bigger than the article, bigger than them all; it was the last part of Granger's past that she needed to conquer. And today was about her doing something that he had only just began to fully understand.
Being the better person.
And Merlin, Hermione was a better person than he could ever have dreamed of being, especially in this particular situation. Draco had planned to threaten, manipulate, and even blackmail the Weasley girl for her permanent silence, but Hermione wanted to take a different—better—route. While Draco wanted to destroy her and her reputation to the point of no salvation, Hermione had ultimately decided that destroying her would mean that she would have to stoop to her level.
It was something that she didn't want to do.
Granger had argued that she'd come too far and climbed too high to let something like revenge bring her down. He supposed that it made sense enough. He also supposed that, despite the fact that he'd been immersed in this mess for months, it still wasn't his place to question or balk. He wanted to, but if all Granger wanted to do was confront to the witch, all Draco could do was ensure that she had her chance.
"This is taking forever."
"What?" It was delayed. He'd barely heard her speak over the rain and his roaring train of thought.
"I said that this is taking forever."
Right. Draco gripped the umbrella tighter. This was the point where he was supposed to utter some reassuring words in a convincing manner. Draco had never been one for words or comfort; he had no idea what to say that wouldn't turn a bad situation into a worse one. So, he did the only thing he could do. He stood there…then squeezed her hand and muttered, "Wait," under his breath.
Hermione looked over her shoulder. "What?
The timing was perfect. Just as the word came from her mouth, a mobile blur of pink and purple caught his eye. "Wait." Draco repeated as he glanced at his watch and smirked. The rain was starting to lighten and there was Parvati, right on schedule. His eyes never left the witch as she crossed the empty street and headed towards The Leaky Cauldron where she was supposed to meet Hermione for their interview. Hermione was moving her lips to question him again when he interrupted her, "What's that quote? Good things happen to those who wait? Well, there she goes…."
If he thought that seeing Parvati leaving on schedule would do anything for Granger's nerves, he was sorely mistaken. If anything, it heightened them. Her hand started shaking in his. Damn. "There she goes."
Draco didn't say anything. He just started counting. Five, four, three, two, one—
"Gods," Hermione said suddenly, anxiously. "Are you absolutely certain that this is going to work?" He wasn't surprised that she was questioning everything. It was just pre-confrontation jitters. "Maybe we need more time to plan things out. Just to make sure that everything is perfect—"
Draco cut her off to deliver his prepared answer. "It is perfect, and there's no going back to the drawing board. Now or never. We've been through this about a hundred times. I'm going to meet Parvati to make this article disappear, and you're going to meet the Weasley girl, so that you can confront her and do your noble thin—"
"I know. Draco. I know the plan inside and out. I'm just—"
"Worried?" he offered uneasily, but he already knew the answer. He could feel it. And not only that, Draco still had that crazy urge to do something that would soothe her worries, even though he was utter shit at it. So when Hermione nodded stiffly, he somehow managed to keep his voice calm and firm when he said, "It's going to work."
Well, that was quite convincing.
A few moments later, they both realised that it was no longer raining. Hermione took the umbrella, let it down, and spelled it dry before putting it into her beaded bag. And then she started again. "What if Harry didn't intercept the letter from—"
"He did. Gave it to me a few days ago just to be sure she would never see it."
"Oh," Hermione's face twisted momentarily, "But shouldn't you be following her now?"
"No." Draco had already decided that he was going to give her exactly ten minutes before he started walking towards the Leaky Cauldron. Ten minutes would be the perfect amount of time. "If I walk in right after her, she'll know that it's a trap, especially when she doesn't see you standing with me. And what do you think Parvati will do then? And since she's clearly not the tacky idiot that I'd originally thought her, she'll walk right back out and return to her office to figure out what happened. And the plan that I've worked so meticulously to perfect will be ruined. So, ten minutes is all I'm going to give her."
"Why ten minutes?"
Oh there were two reasons for that. First, he needed the time to clear his own mind, but he didn't tell her that. Instead, he started explaining the second—and more important—reason. "Well, it's psychological in nature, but ten minutes gives her the time to set up for the 'interview', work through her jitters, edit her list of questions, get comfortable, and bask in the false euphoria of achievement. Ten minutes is long enough to make Parvati believe that she's successfully played her game and now has complete control over the situation…when, in fact, she doesn't." Draco explained.
"Doesn't seem like your style," Hermione replied, "You're patient, observant, and you—well, from what I remember—you wait for that critical moment where you completely turn the tables on the other person."
It was hard for him to hide just how impressed he was. She hadn't been as clueless then as he'd thought, but more than that, she'd been paying attention. He decided to ponder the meaning of that later. "You're right. I don't go for the element of surprise, it's too Gryffindor-esque for my tastes. But this is a special case…since I'm dealing with one, after all. She'll be thinking like a Slytherin and not a Gryffindor, and I'll be thinking like both. Father always said, know thy enemy and know thyself…." he trailed off, trying his best to ignore the twinge in his chest. It had been a while since he'd quoted Father.
"Draco." The worry etched in her voice made his stomach turn a little. "We—"
"Not today," he gruffly told her as he looked at his watch, picking up where he left off. "Anyway, the worst feeling in the world is having the rug pulled from underneath you, so to speak." He knew that too well from experience. Draco grimaced briefly, pushing those thoughts away. There was a look of sheer determination on his face when he said, "When I walk through that door, she won't know what hit her."
Hermione blinked. "You've put a lot of thought into this…perhaps too much."
"No such thing," Draco swatted the air, "Especially in this case."
She raised an eyebrow, but didn't argue.
Unsurprisingly, he was looking forward to squashing Parvati like the bug that she was…once and for all, but he wasn't going to verbalise that. The last thing he needed was for Hermione to extend the noble act to Parvati as well and suggest something absurd like talking to her. Although—
Wait.
The chances of that happening were closing in on slim to none. Granger actually seemed eager to make that article disappear. In fact, she hadn't once questioned his methods or his plans for execution.
"I—" Hermione started, but never finished.
"Just do what you need to do, and I'll do the same. Don't worry."
It wasn't a secret that Hermione trusted him, but it had always been a mere footnote that he kept in the back of his mind for safekeeping. Draco didn't really understand what it meant; not until right then. It became a thousand times more apparent—and more important—when she didn't argue with him. And it became absolute when she nodded and smiled nervously.
And, Merlin, he'd known all this, but this was still so—strange.
Her absolute trust in him.
Their new arrangement, definition, and status in each other's lives.
It was all still so new, and—
Draco frowned when he paled slightly.
Distressing.
She didn't seem to notice—too busy giving herself another quiet pep-talk. "Okay," she said with determination. "I'll do that. I won't worry."
And in that moment, right there in the outer edge of the alley between a restaurant and Quidditch shop, Draco realised something else. The reason why he was so bloody agitated about all these recent changes in their relationship wasn't because of her sensible attitude or his ever-present uncertainties. This had everything to do with her. Not him. Nothing new there, but it was different now. He was actually terrified of doing something—anything—that would hurt her.
Yes, her.
Draco was no saint. Merlin, he was impossible at best, and—he froze. This hadn't been easy for either of them. Getting to this point had come with a lot of anguish on her part, too, but there was a part of him that only thought of himself. His own worries and fears. It was a selfishness that he couldn't quite shed, but in that crazy moment, Draco realised that he wanted to because she'd done the same for him.
It was only fair, after all.
Hermione had given up the very thing that he'd clung to firmly. Trust. She'd given it to him, and yes, Draco trusted her, at least partly. He still struggled to let go, to truly accept her and this, and trust that they could work it out. But she'd done all that, and so much more. She'd patched them together and seemed cautiously determined to make it work. And—damn.
The reason for his abrupt behaviour as of late had been because, on some level, he didn't want to ruin this…her…them. And he—or rather his pride—wouldn't allow him to express that fear to her or anyone, for the matter.
It was frustrating, but not uncommon. He'd felt it for so long now that it shouldn't have rankled him anymore, but now it was different. Two weeks had passed since their awkward conversation in his office, and it had taken him that long to see—or rather, accept because he'd known it for some time—that they made sense. They were logical. Imperfect but logical. And he was very fond of logic, in all forms. As for the imperfect part, well, there was time to work on changing that. Yes. Time. Draco watched as she gave herself yet another pep talk. Maybe Granger wasn't so insane, after all. They could do this…and maybe be happy in the long run. She'd had done her part by setting everything in motion, and now it was up to him to do his. After all, he couldn't let her do it all on her own.
All he had to do was step outside of himself, put forth some sort of effort, and maybe they could work through all their personal issues without imploding or crumbling. And if he could really try and put just a fraction of himself into it, in time, Hermione could be something more to him than what she was now.
Perhaps there was something there for him to ruin, after all.
However, it was all easier said than done. He'd proven that time and time again. Maybe his problem was that he was trying to do too much too soon. Baby steps, right? Draco considered it for a moment and nodded to himself. Great. Now, all they had to do was make it through today so that he could maybe take the first one.
Whatever it was.
He needed a schedule.
"I should go on to Parvati's office and wait for Ginny." Hermione announced, reaching into her beaded bag and pulling out Potter's infamous invisibility cloak. Draco found himself—not jealous—but curious. He had no idea that they had even seen each other recently. Granger must've read the look on his face because she quickly started explaining, "I went furniture shopping with Pansy yesterday and when I got home, Harry Fire-called and asked if he could come through. I said yes, and—" she paused and frowned. "Don't look like that."
"Like what?" he drawled.
"Suspicious."
Draco started to tell her that he would always be slightly suspicious of Potter, at least as far as she was concerned, but decided against it. "I'm not suspicious." There, the lie came out easily. Too bad the truth didn't. He ran a hand through his hair before half-muttering, "I…trust you." He would have to work on that 'completely' part.
Whatever she was pilfering through her bag for was forgotten when he'd said that. Hermione froze and stared at him with slightly wide eyes for a few seconds, but didn't say a word. Thank Merlin for that. He'd said the words and he'd been honest, but he didn't want to answer any questions or hear any of her comments. "I—we just talked, had hot chocolate, and watched videos of Matthew." She looked uneasy for a second. "He told me that he was thinking about making a change in his life, but didn't say what, when, or even why."
A change? Draco committed her words to memory. When he had the time, he would ponder over Potter's next move. Just not today. He had enough to ponder over without throwing him in the mix. "Okay."
Hermione was antsy. "We'll talk about it later on—"
"Not today." Draco doubted that she would be in any mood to talk after confronting the Weasley girl.
"Right, well, whenever." She chewed on her lip again before saying, "I really should go on in. Their scheduled meeting begins in fifteen minutes and I need time to clear my head and rehearse what I'm going to say to her."
Draco cocked a brow. She'd planned out what she was going to say? That wasn't too surprising. "Fine."
Hermione started to wrap the invisibility cloak around her, but stopped. "Oh, how long do I have before Parvati comes back?"
"All the time that you need," he replied somewhat cryptically.
She eyed him critically. He could tell that she wanted to ask him exactly what he meant by that statement, but was slightly relieved when she didn't. The less she knew, the better. "Okay…" Hermione trailed off as she shifted her weight from her right to left foot. "Pansy told me that Blaise had private matters to tend to today, so she cancelled dinner. I was—"
"Stalling," he deadpanned.
Her cheeks started to pinken. "I know." And then she started to pace. Two steps to the left, two to the right.
Draco had to grab her arm before she drove them both mad.
"I want this over with so badly, but I can't make myself go in there. It would be so easy just to let you bury her along with Parvati. I know you want to and she probably deserves it, but—" she chuckled dryly, "when have I ever taken the easy path?" Hermione didn't let him answer. "This is something that I have to do. Alone. I think—no, I know that I'm afraid of what may happen when I get in there. What if I walk out of there and nothing has changed? What if I can't change her mind and make her give this all up? What if—"
"Didn't you say you'd eradicated that phrase from your vocabulary?"
She looked at him. "I did. You're right."
"Just—" Draco looked around uncomfortably then ran a hand through his hair. He then rested both hands on her shoulders and looked at her very seriously. "Just don't worry about it. If something goes wrong in there, we'll go to plan B."
"There's a plan B?"
He brought his hands back down to his side. "No, but we'll make one if need be."
The corners of her lips twitched upward.
It was good enough for him. Draco glanced at his watch. Nearly eight minutes had passed since Parvati had left for The Leaky Cauldron, and in six minutes Ginny would be coming around for her scheduled meeting with Parvati. Hermione needed to go. "You should—"
"Go." She took a slow step back. "And get this over with." Hermione unfolded the cloak and wrapped it around her shoulders first, causing her entire lower body to disappear from sight. Draco blinked, first to get used to the sight of Hermione's floating head. He blinked again when she pecked his cheek rather suddenly and whispered, "Thank you," into his ear before she covered her head and completely disappeared from sight.
Draco watched for the door to the Daily Prophet to open and shut before he moved from his spot. He spelled the bottoms of his trousers dry, and looked around to make sure that no one was around—because Draco Malfoy stepping out of an alley was, at the very least, gossip-worthy. After making sure that everything was clear, he stepped out and started walking in the direction of the Leaky Cauldron.
Diagon Alley was starting to refill with patrons and vendors alike, all who had abandoned the streets during the hard rain. The sun had started to peek from behind the storm clouds, and just for a second, he wondered if this was a sign of things to come. Draco deftly pushed that thought into the recesses of his mind and forced himself to focus on the task at hand as he reached Diagon Alley's exit.
Oh there was no doubt in his mind that he knew exactly how today would pan out; Draco had worked through the minute details and had a back-up plan for the back-up plan, should any situation arise.
He was ready, but his mind wasn't.
But he would get there.
Draco needed to push everything irrelevant out of his head. No room existed in his mind for any weaknesses. So, out went his thoughts on Hermione, the future, and his selfishness; out went every thought and small revelation that he had made today, all the things that could potentially go wrong, and the worries that made his stomach twist and turn. He was preparing for battle—a battle he knew he would win—but a battle nonetheless. And as Draco walked the rest of the way to the Leaky Cauldron, he hardened his face and mind, filling his head with words and strategies and plans.
The chessboard was set, the opening moves planned and plotted, and the players all in their respective places.
Draco walked through the doors and made the first move.
ooo
Part 2: According to plan
Hermione made it a habit to never form a routine at work. See, the beauty and curse of a routine was that, at some point, it was bound to become second nature. When that happened to someone, their job no longer was a profession that involved technique; it was just something that they mindlessly did to pass the time and collect a cheque. Their work and productivity suffered, as well as their ability to notice when something was slightly off.
Like the mysterious opening of an elevator door…when there was no one inside.
In theory, her plan to get in was simple yet flawless. In practice, however, it should've failed monumentally. But it didn't, thanks to—well, routines. It was four hours before the printing deadline for the Prophet's evening edition, but stress and chaos hadn't taken control of the entire floor—yet. It was only a matter of time, though. Maybe another hour. But right then, it was completely silent and everyone looked like they were working, but she could see the boredom in their eyes. Their mindlessness had made sneaking in so easy—too easy. And while Hermione wasn't used to anything coming easily, she took the opportunity given to her.
After side-stepping two employees who weren't paying attention to their surroundings and one close encounter with a memo, Hermione found her way to Parvati's office.
It wasn't exactly hard to find.
The entire floor consisted of rows and rows of cubicles, with one row of offices on the left wall. Parvati's was the first. Her obnoxious gold and purple name plate had given her away. As did the neon green note on her door.
Back in one hour – P.P.
Inches from snatching the note off the door, she paused and scoured the room. There was a witch staring in her general direction. And for one second, Hermione's pulse raced with fear that she'd been spotted somehow. But then the blonde witch jerked, re-propped her elbow on her desk, and started staring again. She'd been asleep…with her eyes open.
Hermione waited a minute before she quickly peeled the note off the door.
She definitely didn't need that note to be seen by anyone.
Next, she used her extensive knowledge of wards to assess Parvati's, and then bring them down quickly and without any noise. Oddly enough, they were fairly simple. Hermione had expected to really test her skills, but it seemed as if Parvati wasn't particularly paranoid. She couldn't believe her luck—or Parvati's stupidity. She was Hermione Granger! She'd spent seven years sneaking around Hogwarts, reluctantly breaking school rules for the greater good, and Parvati had severely underestimated her.
But no matter. Hermione would use Parvati's ignorance for her own personal gain. And with a nearly silent Alohamora, she unlocked Parvati's office and opened the door just wide enough to slip through, unnoticed.
After a moment's pause, she took off the hood of the invisibility cloak, cast a silencing charm, and looked around.
Parvati's office was small—well, smaller than she'd imagined. And more colourful, too.
The walls were bare, boring, and painted an odd apricot colour that made Hermione cringe. She was sure that she'd taken this hideous colour off her wall ages ago. Parvati probably had spelled the walls this colour in an attempt to give the room a more comfortable and personal feel.
Well, she'd failed, epically.
It ended up looking like Parvati's attempt at blending two parts of her life that should never be blended: personal and professional. It made Hermione feel distinctly uncomfortable. The last two minutes had given her more insight into Parvati's character than she could have ever expected. Or wanted.
So, this was what six years of hard work, Rita Skeeter's influence, and blind ambition did to someone.
Hermione took a few steps further into the office. It was nothing more than a mishmash of rococo furnishings trying to blend themselves with the latest wizarding technology and ugly walls. There weren't any pictures or personal effects, but there were a lot of parchment sheets. They littered her desk, along with a few cups, photographs, and empty boxes of take-away.
Parvati obviously spent too much time in this office; it was almost disturbing.
Something else that was chilling: the photographs.
They were also scattered on her desk, separate from the cups, parchments, and boxes. Hermione wasn't disturbed because the photographs were of her and Draco; she'd expected it. Parvati had seemed to be photo happy with them, ever since the Malfoy Ball. Unlike some of those photographs, however, these were real. Hermione could tell. She could even identify the days on which each of these had been taken. Of course, there were some from the night Parvati had approached them, but there were also some of them in various stages of togetherness that seemed to chronicle the last few weeks of their lives.
But what really made her stomach turn was that Parvati's photographer had blended in so well that neither of them had suspected that they were being photographed. Or maybe their focus had been off. Hermione felt her cheeks heat up.
Most of the pictures weren't telling, but a few were, and they had been separated from the rest.
It was the little things: the way he glanced at her in one photograph and the way she looked at him in another. To the casual observer, it was nothing, but Hermione knew…and Parvati did, too. And her stomach turned because she felt…oddly violated. Sure, they'd been out in public, but the pictures were personal. Too personal. And the fact that an outsider had interpreted them as such—it was just a bit more than she could take. So, she started to gather them up, but stopped. Parvati wasn't stupid.
She'd probably printed—
The two-knock sequence on the door brought everything back to focus, but it was too late.
Hermione didn't have time to hide or cover herself with the cloak; all she could do was watch as the door opened and Ginny Weasley stuck her head in. She knocked lightly, again, "Parvati?" She looked to the left. "I'm here for—" She looked to the right…and their eyes met. Surprise flashed across her features, but disappeared quickly as her face turned to stone.
Suddenly, it was back. Tension. It was the kind of tension that Hermione always felt around Ginny, and hadn't felt since that afternoon on the roof of St. Mungo's. It was the kind of tension that was familiar enough to feel routinely customary and habitual. Finally, Ginny moved. Her hand fell to her side as she straightened her back rather pompously. It caused Hermione to square her own shoulders and stiffly fold her arms across her chest.
The staring contest didn't last much longer because the redhead took a small step backwards, as if she were turning to leave, and Hermione stopped her with a very chilly, "I wouldn't do that if I were you."
The corner of the witch's mouth twitched; a fleeting shadow of a grimace. Her voice was unnaturally low when she said, "You have no idea what I'm about to do."
"You were leaving, weren't you? Maybe to come back with security…"
Ginny shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "So, what's your point? You're breaking and entering. Not exactly a new habit of yours, but no matter, it'll be entertaining to watch you finally get what you deserve." A glimmer of a smirk formed on her face, "It'll be even more entertaining to read about your arrest. Maybe I'll photograph the entire thing. It'll make the front page of the evening edition, for sure."
"By the time you return with security, I'll be long gone and there will be no trace that I was ever here," Hermione replied matter-of-factly. "No one saw me come in, and no one will see me leave. So go ahead, do what you feel you need to do, but no one will believe you."
What happened next was something she'd anticipated and even planned for. Ginny went for her wand, probably to lock her in a body-bind, but Hermione was faster. Her wand was out before the other witch could even retrieve hers. And one Disarming spell later, Ginny's wand was in her hand. Hermione put both wands on Parvati's messy desk.
"Give me my wand back!" she demanded hotly.
"So you can use it on me? I think not," Hermione replied with an incredulous snort, "You'll get it back when we finish here, and not a minute before." She gestured to the chair on the other side of the desk, "You should take a seat." And when the witch stood there, defiant and angry, Hermione muttered to herself, "Or not." She looked around before addressing the other witch, "Look—"
"Cut the shit, Hermione. Why are you here? Because something tells me that you're not here for an interview."
"For once, your instincts are right. I'm not here for her, I'm here for you."
That clearly wasn't the answer that Ginny had expected. The confusion she felt was apparent on her face. "Me?"
"Yes. I don't want any drama, I just want to talk—"
"Talk?" Ginny balked. "You want to talk to me?" A snort came next. "That's hilarious, seeing as to how you're the last person on Earth that I want to have a conversation with. Not that we have anything to talk about in the first place."
Hermione narrowed her eyes. Nothing to talk about? "Where the hell have you been for the last two months? I can think of a million things that we need to finally discuss, one-on-one. Things that we haven't argued about already."
Ginny's eyes first widened with clarity, then narrowed in defiance.
Stubbornness.
It was in Ginny's eyes and in her nature, as much as it was in her own. It wouldn't let her retreat, surrender, or accept defeat, but, often times, Ginny's stubbornness pushed her to do things that bordered on stupidity. Her stupidity was the reason why they had even gotten to this point. And since it was in her nature, Hermione expected her to do something else stupid, but—surprisingly—she didn't.
"Parvati set me up, didn't she?" Ginny lowly asked.
"This is a set up, but Parvati isn't pulling the strings. She, obviously, has no clue that I'm here or else she would be in here with me, too. In fact, she's in the Leaky Cauldron right now, waiting for me. I imagine she's currently receiving the shock of her life w—"
"Wait." She held her hand up before hurling question after question at a calm Hermione. "What do you mean she's waiting for you? Why would she? We're supposed to be having a meeting right now."
"Oh, I know that." Hermione didn't give the witch a chance to process those four words, but she saw a hint of realisation in her eyes. "But that doesn't change the fact that she scheduled an interview with me today." Hermione moved to look inside of her desk drawers. The first was full of quills, the second was full of candy, and the third held gold…in the form of a little purple planner. Hermione removed it, opened it to that day's date, and handed it to Ginny, "Check her scheduler. See for yourself."
She snatched it and scanned the page for any proof that Hermione was lying, and her furrowed brows slowly relaxed as realisation dawned on her. Ginny looked up suddenly, "But—but why would she want to meet with you? You two don't have anything to talk about."
"Are you sure?" Hermione asked as she watched the witch carefully close the scheduler. "Are you absolutely sure about that, Ginny?"
She looked as if she were trying to understand and answer her own internal questions all at once. Finally, she spoke up in a rather distant voice, "You never did answer my question." Then, she met Hermione's eyes with a level stare. "Why are you here?"
"Judging from the look on your face, I think you're beginning to figure out the answer."
"I'm not in the mood to play your word games, Hermione." Ginny spat.
She put her hands on her hips. "Ginny, I haven't been the one playing games here, you have—ever since I returned from Italy, and even before that! In fact, you haven't stopped playing games. Trying to poison Pansy against me, attempting to manipulate me at St. Mungo's, taking my letter from your mother, showing up at my house unannounced and uninvited, and don't even get me started on the crap you've caused by hiding Harry's letter to me after I'd left ." When Ginny gasped, Hermione snorted. "Didn't think I knew about that, did you? There's a lot that you don't k—"
"I can't imagine that you would understand why I did—"
Hermione put her hand up. "Save it. I've heard this all before, and to be frank, I don't care enough to hear it again. I'm over it." And she froze with realisation that, yes, she really was over it. Really. "I really am."
Yes, she was still angry—and a multitude of other emotions—but it was different. Was it possible to be angry at someone, but also to be over all the reasons why you had been angry at them in the first place? Every bit of her wanted to be angry—glass-breaking, earth-shattering angry. She wanted a storm and thunder. She'd been waiting for this day for the last two weeks just so she could show just how furious she was. This was the perfect time. This was the perfect moment.
But…
She couldn't force herself to feel that way. And it scared her. For some reason, Hermione felt that if she wasn't angry, somehow that would make their actions all right—and nothing about that was all right. And she cursed her anger for being systematic, and also for being very much under control. She had always planned on telling her the truth, but she'd also planned on using it to back her into a wall. And much to her dismay, everything—that plan, her thoughts and feelings—had changed.
"Well, that's good for you," Ginny deadpanned. "But you never answered my question. Why. Are. You. Here?"
"Ginny, I didn't come here to fight with you, that's for sure. But I can say that the reason I'm here has changed in the last few minutes. I originally came here to reason to you, coerce you even, but now—now I'm here to actually talk to you."
"That's a shame, seeing as to how I have nothing to say to you that hasn't already been said. You—"
"I didn't come here to listen to you, Ginny," Hermione snapped, "You're here to listen to me, for once. I came here to tell you the truth. All of it. And you can tune me out, ignore me, but I'm not walking out of that door until I'm finished talking. I'm not leaving until I decide to."
Ginny folded her arms and spat bitterly, "Well? Go on. What's this 'truth' that you want to tell—"
Hermione cut her off crisply, "Did you hear anything that I—" she paused in confusion, "Wait, what?"
"I said, talk."
It was a rare moment of—well, Hermione didn't know. She couldn't think of the perfect word, for once. But the fact that Ginny was giving her the opportunity to speak had left her temporarily discombobulated and tongue-tied. Where to start? What to start with? Who to start with? She'd planned this conversation to the letter, and nothing was happening according to plan. But she supposed that that was to be expected. After all, her entire game plan had changed. It was probably a good thing to start with a clean slate. Now if only she could do more talking and less wide-eyed staring. It was sort of funny. The truth wanted nothing more than to spill forth in an incoherent mess, but it seemed to be lodged in her throat.
That, also, was probably a good thing.
It forced her to think for a few moments about her next words. "I—"
"Spill it, Hermione," Ginny snapped.
"Don't rush me. There's a lot that I need to tell you, and since the likelihood of you listening to me for the entire time is almost nil—"
"Oh, whatever. The sooner you say your peace, the sooner I get my wand back. The sooner I get my wand back, the sooner I can get your arse thrown out of here. That's the only reason why I'm even entertaining your—"
"Quiet."
And what came next was a tense silence.
Ginny smacked her lips and exhaled loudly while Hermione picked up the cloak off the chair and held it in her hand. When the redhead gasped moments later, she realised that she'd made an irreversible mistake. Damn. And then she tried to say something, but never got the opportunity.
Her voice was low, and Hermione heard the barely concealed anger in it. "How—" she paused and shook her head as if the potential answer pained her. "Why do you have that? It's Harry's." Hermione opened her mouth, but, again, she didn't get a chance to speak. Ginny's voice was growing angrier and angrier. "Tell me that you broke into our flat and nicked it."
For a long moment, Hermione didn't know what to say because either way, her answer would be wrong. Great. Another one of those lose-lose situations that she hated. Damned if she told the truth, damned if she lied. And even though there were two paths that she could make, there was only one real road that she could travel. It would be easier to lie, but she couldn't—no, wouldn't. She wasn't that person anymore. She wasn't the professional liar, and she'd made too much progress to revert back, even for this moment.
Yes, this looked—no, was—a very bad predicament that she was in, but she was at the point in her life where she could handle it. "Yes," Hermione answered as evenly as she could, "This is Harry's, but—"
"Tell me how you got it," she demanded hotly.
Hermione chewed on the inside of her cheek before she replied, "I didn't break into your flat, for starts. I got it from Harry. He—"
"Harry let you borrow it?! He—he barely lets me look at it!" The angry shrill in Ginny's question made her inwardly wince and drop the cloak into the seat of the chair. "Harry knew you were coming here? He—" There was a painful and abrupt pause. "He hid this from me." The fury in her voice was replaced with a kind of cold resignation. "Harry was in on this." It was a statement. Not a question. And she looked to Hermione for confirmation.
She'd had enough experience with Ginny to know that she was merely seconds from detonation, but it didn't slow her down. "What did you expect? You—" Hermione's next words were interrupted by the redhead, who exploded with the force of a dying star.
"I can't believe this! He was in on it! I can't believe—" she stopped suddenly, noticing the change of expression of Hermione's face. "You…it's you. Gods, it's always you, isn't it? I knew something was wrong—I've known it the last couple of weeks. Harry's changed. He's been distant, moody, and even angry He's been treating me like I'm some strange girl whom he just happens to live with. And I thought it was the stress, I thought it was the amount of pressure that he was under at work, but now I see that it's you. You did it. You changed him. You made him—"
Hermione recoiled as if she'd been scalded. "Hold on now, I didn't make Harry do anything that he didn't want to do. He made his own decision, and—"
"Why won't you just stop lying? There's no point! I can see through your bullshit. You—"
"What?" she shot back fiercely, "Open your eyes, Ginny! Quit trying to see through me, and see through yourself for once! Did it ever occur to you that maybe it's not me, maybe it's you? Maybe you're the reason why Harry's so distant, maybe you're the reason why he seems so angry, maybe—"
"You would say that, wouldn't you? Nothing is ever your fault. You're just so innocent in all this."
"I never said I was innocent, but I won't take the blame for whatever is going on between you and Harry. I'm not even a part of it!"
"Yes, you are!" Ginny yelled as she slammed her fist on the desk. The pain in her voice made Hermione's stomach churn with guilt. "You've always been a part of our relationship, even while you were gone."
Hermione looked down, biting on the inside of her cheek, again. She felt—well, it was hard to put it into words. What could she say to that? Had she intended to interfere with their relationship? No. Her plan all along had been for Harry to forget about her, what they had, and go back to—and be happy with—Ginny. And she'd returned to London thinking that he'd done just that.
She remembered the first time she'd seen them together. They'd looked happy, but things clearly weren't always what they appeared. Harry and Ginny were just a mirage, an illusion of their weary minds, caused by a ridiculous amount of hype, mutual insecurities, and Ginny's expectations.
So, was all of this her fault? Was it her fault that she'd been a blot on their already flawed relationship?
Hermione glanced over at the fuming witch.
No, it wasn't.
"I have no problem accepting my own responsibility in all this," Hermione began strongly, "But you can't blame me for your relationship woes…better yet, I won't let you blame me." Ginny quickly opened her mouth to retort, but Hermione cut her off. "I don't care what you say, it's not my fault. It's just you and Harry. That's all. And yes, I know that Harry and I have been through a lot together—more ups than downs, but it's completely unrelated to your relationship with him. Besides, we're trying to get past all that for the sake of—"
"I knew it." Ginny interrupted, again. And Hermione, for the first time, wanted to hit her. "You said that you were here to tell me the truth? What's the truth, Hermione? That you've managed to steal my boyfriend—again. What? Are you here to tell me that now that you two have settled your differences that you're going to run off to Scotland, get married, and raise that—child that you two have together?"
Hermione's brows furrowed in confusion. "What?" In true Ginny fashion, she'd completely twisted the situation into something that it wasn't. Hadn't she heard anything that she'd said? Talking to Ginny had always been like throwing a ball against a wall. Hermione's words always came hurling back without making any impression whatsoever on her. It was pointless to even try, but she wasn't a quitter. "Wait a second, you're completely off base here, Ginny. I—"
"Oh, don't stand there and try to deny it, Hermione. I know he's leaving me!" And she was back to yelling again. "I knew it before I saw the housing adverts in the bedside table! I may be a lot of things, but I'm not stupid! The only way Harry would ever leave me is if you decided that you wanted him!"
She made a face. Is that what she thought? Merlin, she was completely off her rocker. "You know, this entire time I've convinced myself that you weren't stupid, just horribly misinformed, but now I'm starting to think that you really are—"
"Just tell me. Is that why you're here? To—"
"Are you even—"
"—ask my permission to step aside so that you two can be together?"
Hermione fixed her lips to answer, but inwardly rolled her eyes in frustration.
"Is that what you want me to do?" Ginny asked angrily. Her hands were shaking.
She didn't answer, because she needed to choose her words wisely. "I don't have a clue what you're talking about—"
"Liar," she spat hatefully. "You'll be in for the shock of your life if you think that I'm just going to play nice, back off, and let you take him from me."
Hermione shifted her weight from one foot to the other, but said nothing. It, clearly, was easy for Ginny to blame her for her failing relationship, rather than accept the fact that she'd had a hand in pushing Harry away. She considered saying that, but had the feeling that she just needed to stand there and let Ginny get everything out before she finally set her straight. This wasn't in her "I talk, you listen" plan, but since when had anything gone according to plan?
"Let me make myself perfectly clear. I've been with him for six years. I've loved him, taken care of him, picked him back up after you deserted him, and I am not going down without a fight." The sheer power behind her words almost made her step back. Hermione couldn't believe that she still didn't believe her. "I am not going to walk away. I am not going to give up. I am not going to back down. I don't care that you've had his child, I don't care that he still loves you, I don't care about any of that. I'm not going anywhere, so you might as well just walk right out that—"
"He's yours, Ginny!" Hermione finally exclaimed, just to shut her up. "Yours," she repeated quieter. "What ever idea or notion you have about my relationship with Harry just isn't fact. Yes, he let me borrow his invisibility cloak. Yes, he knew that I was coming here. And yes, he knew that I wanted to talk to you, but this whole conspiracy theory that you've drawn up about us running away together, it just isn't true. In fact, it's utter and complete rubbish!"
"I know you're lying. You've lied to me before."
"I've lied to everyone, Ginny! But that doesn't make me incapable of telling the truth!" Ginny opened her mouth to argue, probably to beg to differ, but Hermione wouldn't let her. "You can stand there and point the finger at me, you can call me a liar, you can blame everything on me, but the truth is: we all have lied and our lies—your lies, too—are the reason why we're standing here today."
Defiance was written in every line of her face, flashing in her brown eyes. "My lies? What do you know of my lies?"
Ah, finally the place where they should be. She inwardly rejoiced.
"Everything," Hermione replied evenly. "'Subtlety' has never been your specialty. When you want something done, you just do it. You don't plan, you don't think about any of the consequences, and you don't even seek out the truth. The real truth. You never listen, you just react." She told her truthfully. "The second I found out about the article Parvati was—is—planning to publish about my son, there was almost no doubt in my mind that you had something to do with it."
Ginny had the decency to allow her cheeks to colour slightly. "You weren't supposed to find out. Not until it came out." And then her face hardened. "Why is it that even when I use every resource available to me, you still managed to—not only find out about it, but orchestrate a plan to stop it?"
"That's a stupid question." Hermione retorted quickly, "It's amazing, isn't it? How you plan and plan, and you think that you've worked out every little minute detail. But when it's time to carry out your plan, there's always a variable that you didn't think of. It's always a little one, too. One that's easily looked overlooked, but in the end, it ends up being important." Hermione unfolded her arms. "You should always be careful about who you work with, Ginny."
It was her turn to look perplexed. "What are you talking about?"
She ignored her question and continued, "Believe me, if I didn't know something was up, I would've known when Parvati approached us, told me that she didn't believe that rubbish that you told her about me and Draco having a child together, and tried to coerce me into telling her the real truth."
For once, Ginny was finally speechless.
Hermione took an unneeded breath, just to give the other witch some time to let it all start to sink in. "You didn't know that, did you? You didn't know that she planned on turning the tables on you?"
"She wouldn't do that."
"Really? Because I thought she would never turn her back on her family, her friends, and her integrity to get ahead, but she—I don't know who she is now, but I wouldn't trust her with my kitten. But you…you trusted her with a lie, and just knew that she wouldn't go looking for the truth. Well, she did. She hasn't found it yet, but she's looking." She tilted her head to the side and inquired, "And what do you think she'll do when she finds out the truth? Surely, she's not going to keep it to herself because of your 'friendship' with her. Oh, the whole world will know…everything." Hermione shook her head. "You really did trust the wrong person."
She could see the realisation as it slowly dawned on her.
Hermione didn't stop now that she had Ginny's undivided attention. "I had an idea that you would do something stupid after you found out about Matthew. I just didn't think it would be something quite as cruel." It was hard for her to keep her voice even. "Even though you have a tendency to underestimate those around you and even though you only half-listen to the things that are said, this isn't you."
"You have no idea who I am, Hermione, so stop. You have no idea what thirteen years in your shadow has done to me." At the look of surprise on her face, Ginny scoffed. "I hope that you don't think that just because you were gone, I had a reprieve from your shadow? I didn't! Everything still revolved around you. Harry. Ron. Mum. Dad. The whole bloody wizarding world was fixated on you. I couldn't go anywhere without someone asking me about you, where you went, why you went—" Ginny paused abruptly and scowled bitterly. "I was sick of hearing your name."
"As I said before, that's not my fault."
"It is, though!"
"Are you even listening to yourself? You sound like a petulant child! So what if I got a lot of attention, so what if you had to 'live in my shadow', it doesn't give you any right to act the way that you have!" Hermione shot off, "I said this before, and I'll say this again: Grow. Up. Ginny. The world doesn't revolve around you, and your world shouldn't revolve around me. The world is wider then the narrow focus you place on it."
Ginny said nothing, but was seething with rage.
"And for that reason, I'm—not telling, but asking you to take your focus off of me. I may deserve a lot of things, but I don't deserve this."
"That's where you're wrong," she replied curtly, "Forget Parvati, I get the feeling that she won't find what she's looking for anyway. You won't let her."
"But I could."
"True, but you won't."
Hermione didn't argue.
"And since you won't let her, she'll go right ahead and publish the original, and I can't wait. You deserve everything that will come with this article, and then some. Karma is a bitch, isn't it?"
"You don't know the first thing about karma. Everything you do, it comes right back around and around. And if you think you're absolved from this, you're wrong." Hermione told her tersely. "As for the ridiculous idea that I deserve everything that will happen to me…who made you the judge and jury over my life? Who gave you that right?" Hermione questioned harshly. "You say I don't know you, well, you don't know the first thing about me or my life. I have seen and done things that you couldn't even imagine. I have questioned my humanity at times, so don't, for one second, think that you can just—"
"This doesn't change anything. This doesn't change what happened between you and Harry. This doesn't change the fact that—"
"It may not change anything, but you shouldn't punish me by pushing Parvati to publish this rubbish article." Hermione argued angrily, "I'm not the only one at whom you should be angry. I am not the one, period. Yes, I slept with Harry. Yes, we had a child. Yes, yes, yes. I've made my mistakes and I have done everything I can to atone for them, but the fact still remains. I may be part of the problem, but I'm not the problem."
"What are you talking about?! You've always been the problem, and you'll always be the—!"
"I didn't conceive Matthew all by myself, Ginny!" she shouted over the other witch. Hermione took a quick breath to calm herself. "There was—there was another person in that room with me." Something changed in Ginny's face and Hermione ran with it. "Harry was there, too, and nothing you do or publish will change that. You can't change history; you can't undo what's already been done. All you can do is learn from it, all you can do is move forward."
Ginny's eyes were nothing more than two slits.
"And making me pay isn't the solution to your problems. Making me pay isn't going to answer the questions that I know you have. Putting out this rubbish will only make things worse for—not me, but you." She paused and chose her next words wisely. "It already has."
She faltered for just a moment. "What—what are you talking about?"
Hermione looked at her and told her as bluntly as she could, "Harry knows…everything."
Ginny's transformation was a gradual one. In fact, if Hermione hadn't known her as well, she would've initially thought that she hadn't fully comprehended what she was saying. But that just wasn't the case. First, her narrowed eyes softened. Then, her breathing and stance changed as she started looking back and forth between Hermione and the ugly peach wall behind her. She was thinking and panicking. Finally, she froze and her skin, which had been flushed with anger, had started to pale. Ginny sounded almost breathless when she whispered, "Everything?"
She let the question hang in the air before she repeated soberly, "Everything."
Dread continued to grow within the redhead as she began to realise what this meant.
It wasn't Hermione, it was her.
She wanted to stop talking, but she couldn't help herself. There was so much she wanted to say and now that Ginny was quiet, now that she had some time to really work through her thoughts and feelings…now it was time for some answers. "What did you expect to gain from this? Because I've been struggling for the last month to figure out your motives, and I can't come up with anything logical." She told her truthfully.
Ginny looked her in the eyes.
"I know that this had nothing to do with Draco, nothing to do with Matthew, and everything to do with me. I know that this was your attempt at revenge, but revenge always has a way of coming back to you." She tried to control her own breathing, but found it wasn't an easy task. "I know that an article like that will cause a lot of unnecessary drama in my life, and make people question my status as a war hero. And, at first, I was terrified, but now…now I'm beyond caring what people think of me." Hermione told her, with her head held high. "I know that anything that comes out after it—like, say, the truth—will be questioned and scrutinised, but this article, this rubbish, it won't accomplish anything, Ginny. And I'll tell you why…."
She watched her fists curls up at her sides.
"Because Harry knows everything, and if we have to, we'll tell the truth together. I'm not scared of it. I never was. I only kept Matthew a secret to protect him, but in this case, telling the world may protect him, as well."
Ginny took a shaky breath, "I—"
"No, you had your turn, and now it's mine. Harry knows that it was you who gave Parvati the means to write the article, he knows it was you who scheduled meeting after meeting with her, and he knows that you wanted to keep him away while that rubbish circulated in the papers because you knew that he would tell the world if—"
"I—"
"I said I'm not finished yet!" Hermione exclaimed. "If this comes out," she started again, her voice shook with barely contained emotions. "Harry will know that it was you helped scatter lies about—not just me, not just Draco, but my son…his son…our," her voice finally broke, "dead son."
And as the final bits of colour drained from Ginny's face, Hermione wanted to speak again, but found that there were no words.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of JK Rowling. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
A/N: Thanks to kazfeist for betaing it. Floorcoaster, kate04, thebigdisaster, hell, everyone, for keeping my spirits up. Oh, and for a few rude people out there. In general, when reviewing stories, its best if you just talk about the story. Don't bring your personal opinions about the author into your reviews. Chances are you don't know them that well. Kthxbai!