A/N: Thank you very much for the reviews you've left me! And let's not forget my beta Cecelia Everhart! Thanks, girl!

Everyone excited about this chapter? Me, too! Before we move on with them getting back together, I wanted to elaborate on Hermione's past and throught processes, so you (and Draco) can understand her behaviour a bit better. I'm sorry for the extreme long stretches of dialogue. Please, bear with me for the time being!

35. Road to Recovery

"Come, Hermione. You don't need to listen to this," Daphne finally hissed, shooting Lucius a vile glance and grabbing Hermione's elbow to drag her away from the indignant, spluttering man.

Hermione cast a quick glance at Draco, but he seemed absorbed in a conversation with Astoria. Her black hair was perfect – wavy, but not bushy like her own. However, before jealousy could overwhelm her, Daphne disapparated with her.

"Don't take it to heart what that old bigot said. He's grieving," Daphne mumbled and pushed Hermione onto the couch.

She shook her head to focus her thoughts. "Yes." Hermione's voice was a bit husky, and she cleared her throat. "I know. I think I should go home."

"No, no, no. You stay and drink a cup of tea with me, and then we talk about your ex." Daphne had already summoned the cups and the teapot.

"I really don't want to talk about him," Hermione contradicted weakly, but accepted the mug that was pressed into her hands.

Daphne smiled crookedly. "I know. But I think you need to talk to someone."

Hermione sighed. "Fine."

Hermione didn't floo over to Draco until the next day. She had to think about a lot of things she had talked about with Daphne.

Draco looked unexpectedly sober and collected, sitting on his couch and reading the Daily Prophet, when she appeared in his living room. Instantly, he leapt to his feet.

"Hermione?" He stared at her with big eyes, like she was some kind of miracle.
A frown furrowed Hermione's brow. Was he just surprised to see her or was it something else? "Is something wrong?" she asked, her eyes scrutinising the apartment. Maybe she had interrupted him and Astoria. But only one cup of tea stood on the table and one dirty plate lay in the sink. Nobody else seemed to be present.

"No – I just … after yesterday, I didn't expect you; that's all," he stammered, but remembering his manners, he pulled himself together. "Tea?"

Hermione nodded thankfully. "You seem fine today," she remarked, sitting down on the offered chair.

Draco's shoulders stiffened and he turned his back to her, preparing the tea. "Just better at pretending," he said bitterly.

She lowered her gaze to her hands. It made her sad, hearing something like this, although it might be the truth. "It'll get better."

"I know."

They were quiet for a while, just sipping their tea and staring into nothing. Hermione wondered why she'd even showed up here. Was it Daphne's words? Was it jealousy and the sneaking suspicion that Astoria might be here? Or did she simply miss Draco?

"I'm sorry about yesterday," Draco finally breathed. "I wanted to defend you, but then Astoria appeared, and when I finally managed to get away, you were gone."

She nodded almost imperceptibly. "It's okay. I didn't expect you to," she said without inflection. With carefully controlled movements, she refilled her teacup. "How's Astoria?"

He shrugged just as casually, not betraying with one gesture that he was aware of the tension, the awkwardness, between them. "Fine. Michael couldn't come because of some business trip, and he excused himself." Each word seemed to be carefully chosen to not break the fragile truce between them.

"Ah." Under the table, Hermione clenched her fingers into fists to keep them from shaking. He and Astoria looked so perfect together. The perfect pureblood couple. Maybe they'd rekindle their romance now, having hit it off at the funeral. Maybe she would help him grieve, and he wouldn't need her – Hermione – anymore. Narcissa's wish would be fulfilled.

Why did she care anyway?

Hermione gritted her teeth, knowing she lied to herself. She knew exactly why she cared and why it hurt so much to picture him with Astoria.

"I know it's bad timing, but … I think we should talk," Draco finally declared when she made no move to add anything.

Hermione swallowed and tried to prepare herself for what was coming. She shouldn't be so scared; it was the reason she had come here, after all. "Yes, we should," she agreed, even if it meant she had to finally move on.

Draco inhaled a deep breath, as if to prepare himself. "Before you say something, I need to … explain. I wanted to tell you so many things on the day you came back from Bulgaria, but you –" he interrupted himself. "Anyway, I need to tell you now."

Hermione nodded quietly – her breath shallow, her heart racing – waiting for his accusations to hit, to plunge into her like a knife and erase every possibility of a future together.

"I came to your flat to apologise," Draco said slowly.

All air vanished from Hermione's lungs, and she took in a gulping breath. It wasn't what she'd been expecting at all.

Quickly, Draco continued as if he was unable to stop the words tumbling out of his mouth. "I was not in my right mind after our break up – you know what happened… and then you sent me those memories." Something flickered across his face, but she wasn't quite sure what it was. "They made me feel like an even bigger idiot than I already was. I had threatened you, and pushed you, and blamed you, and yelled at you for things that were out of your hands." He held up a finger to stop her from interrupting him. "I was so wrong. It made me feel so guilty that I couldn't face you. I'd deserved your hate and all the pain because I was the most horrible boyfriend on earth."

Hermione's mind was reeling. She couldn't believe her ears. He was sorry? He didn't hate her?

Draco peered up at her through his lashes. "I should've written you how sorry I was, but then it was too late, and everything blew up in my face. I'd waited too long, and you couldn't forgive me. You'd decided …" he swallowed. "Well, you didn't love me anymore. And I understood, but …"

She stared at him, still turning his words over in her mind. "So you weren't disgusted? Or detested me? You didn't wish me … away?"

Draco shook his head, his eyes burning with an intensity that made her shiver. "How could I? I'm sorry I made you think that. No, I told you," he shrugged almost apologetically, "I loved you."

"Oh," she whispered tonelessly, her mouth suddenly very dry. She was quite aware of the past tense in his sentence. "Let's say what you told me is true –"

"It is!" he exclaimed.

Perseveringly, she continued, "Why wouldn't you have tried harder? Why would you just leave?"

Draco pulled a face. "Because I thought it was better this way." He fiddled with the teacup in front of him. "You didn't want me anymore, and I had to accept that even if it wasn't what I wanted. I thought I had hurt you so deeply you couldn't stand me anymore."

"Well, you had," she agreed, summoning all her strength to sound sober and objective. "But that didn't change my feelings. But you still haven't told me," she swallowed convulsively, "what you think of me."

Draco's face softened, his eyes like melted silver. "Oh, Hermione. Don't you understand? To see him hurting you, to hear you scream in pain … and to not be able to do anything about it –" He massaged his temples as if the memory gave him headaches. "It was the worst thing I've ever experienced. It'd cost me all my strength not to go to Bulgaria and –"

Hermione flinched, imagining the rest of the sentence.

"I'd never think badly about you because of that. I still think you are strong," he concluded, staring her straight in the eyes. His gaze was so intense she quickly looked down at her hands.

"I guess you have some questions?" Hermione finally muttered, considering what Daphne had told her. He had a right to know everything.

"Look at me," Draco whispered.

Slowly and cautiously, she looked up. His expression was still soft, his eyes concerned. "We don't need to do that."

"We do," she contradicted. "You have the right to know, whatever it is you want to know." She wanted there to be no secrets between them, so they could move on somehow, so they could maybe stay friends. Although she wasn't quite sure if she'd survive that – to see him every day and not be with him. But the alternative was to never see him again, and that she couldn't survive.

Draco pondered about that for a moment and finally asked, "How did it all start, your relationship? Why did you marry him?"

"Hm." Hermione took a sip of her tea. It wasn't a question she had expected. "I told you about the letters and my break up with Ron."

Draco nodded.

"Well, in February, I met with Viktor and we really had a connection. I'd missed it to have an intellectual discussion or just someone who was there, you know? Hell, I'd even have started to date you if …" She stopped, blinking. "Sorry."

A small laugh escaped his lips; the silver of his eyes sparkled for the first time. "No, don't be. I'm flattered."

Hermione smiled apologetically and continued with a slight shaking in her voice. "Although Ron tried to make it up to me and win me back, it was simply too late. He hadn't spoken to me since Christmas, and I was really hurt. So I stayed with Viktor. We started seriously dating after my graduation, I even visited him in Bulgaria. He helped me deal with my nightmares and other … stuff. We got together before I started my traineeship in MLE."

A sad smile flickered across her face. "Harry and Ginny got engaged and Ron was dating Lavender. All was perfect. My job was great, the war was over, and slowly the world was as it should be: peaceful. Ron and Lavender got engaged on Harry's wedding a year later. Again, I felt left out. I didn't want to marry yet, but everyone else did. They were so happy with their relationships and I was …" Her voice trailed off.

"Not," Draco finished her sentence.

Hermione frowned. "I don't know." Her frown deepened as her thoughts travelled back in time. "Retrospective, I can't really tell you how I felt. Viktor proposed to me in autumn, and I accepted because I felt that I had to. I wanted the same bliss Harry and Ginny had." Her right hand felt for her left ring finger, where a ring should be. "We married in spring 2002, just a few months after Ron and Lavender. It was big in the press: famous Quidditch player marries war heroine." Hermione laughed, but it had a bitter note to it.

"We moved to Bulgaria, but kept a flat in London for visits and if I had to work late. You only know the bad things, but we were happy. Vik bought me flowers and wrote me every day when he was away for training. He did so many things Ron never did, and I felt loved. I did love him, but not like I loved y-" she quickly interrupted herself. She had nearly spilled the beans, but Draco didn't seem to have noticed anything. He was still watching her attentively, waiting for her to continue.

"Anyway, things went well until the Quidditch World Cup." Hermione shrugged. "As you know Bulgaria was defeated and Viktor retired from the national team. We moved back to England, and he started playing for Puddlemere United, but he wasn't satisfied. The season didn't go so well for him, and he wasn't as praised as before. He became increasingly angry at me for nothing, especially why I wasn't pregnant yet." She bit her lip and peered through her lashes. Draco's face had become blank, trying to conceal his emotions.

"I understood him. I mean Ginny got pregnant with James about that time, and Lavender and Ron made openly plans about having a baby. We fought a lot. He expected me to give up my career at MLE for our children, which was something I completely refused to do. He had been drinking for quite some time then, but it was never too bad. Then James was born in January, and Lavender was pregnant as well. Puddlemere United hadn't won the Cup since he was on the team, and his drinking got worse and worse. Of course, we kept it a secret, but it was hard. I tried to help him, to support him, as a good wife should, but the bad days outweighed the good ones."

Unwillingly, her hands started to tremble. "The press picked up on it, and he blamed me, he blamed me for everything. I still thought we could get trough that, we could work it out, like Harry and Ginny worked out all their problems. I tried so hard, so hard … but it didn't work." Hermione swallowed. It was incredibly difficult to talk about that, more difficult than Draco realised. But she did this for him. She owed him.

So with a shaking voice, Hermione continued, "Nothing I did was good enough. Viktor decided to leave the Quidditch team and start something else, but he wasn't accepted into the Auror's programme for his involvement with the Death Eaters. Little things made him mad now, a wrong look or something I allegedly implied." She took in a deep breath and looked at Draco. "You know the rest."

Draco stared at her. Hermione could see how he tried to process the story she had told him. She tried to read what was going on inside of him, but he kept his face impassive, as if she'd been talking about the weather.

"Why didn't you leave sooner?" he finally asked.

Hermione had known this question would come – it always came. "I told you, I thought we could make it work. If I'd only get pregnant, I thought, all the problems would disappear." It felt strange to talk about that. Hermione had never told anybody any of this, just bits and pieces to Harry. "Viktor was still famous, and it'd have been a huge scandal if I left him. I thought if he'd only stop drinking …" She sighed. "I didn't understand why I failed. I was so good in everything I did, but in my relationships I've failed."

Draco shook his head, first slowly then more vehemently. "That's not true." He cleared his throat. "I mean, you didn't fail. It's not your fault," he clarified.

"I knew you'd say that," Hermione replied, smiling faintly. "Harry said just the same. But in your hearts you feel otherwise. You think I should've just left him after the first time. I should've fought him harder. I should've told my friends."

"No." Draco shook his head again to emphasise his point. "That's not what I thought," he said firmly, and Hermione's head snapped up towards him, surprised by the sincerity in his tone. "It's in your character to fight for the things you love."

Her eyes widened. "I didn't think you'd understand."

"That's why you didn't tell me," Draco stated calmly.

There was no accusation in his voice, but still she flinched. "Yes. I did trust you, but … I still thought you'd leave me, you'd reject me." Hermione emptied her cup with one gulp. He mouth was dry and her throat felt scratchy. "In the end, I was right, wasn't I?"

Draco's face fell.

"Don't worry about it," she said hurriedly, forcing a smile. "I was expecting it. That doesn't mean it didn't hurt like hell."

He opened his mouth and closed it again. "I … I am sorry, Hermione."

She attempted a smile, but it felt false. She knew he would see right through her. "Never mind." Hastily, she stood up to flee the nearly unbearable tension between them. "That was enough drama for one day, don't you think?" Hermione asked, putting her cup into the sink. She needed a break, or she would accidentally reveal more than she should. Besides, she really had to think about what he had told her. Had he said the truth? Should she believe him? And if yes, what did it mean for their relationship?

Draco needed a break, too. She could see that he was barely able to hold it together; any more emotional drama and he would fall to pieces.

She heard the chair scratch over the floor as he stood up as well. "But … there are still so many things I want to tell you, to ask you," Draco said cautiously.
Hermione turned around. "This is not the time. I don't want you to say things you don't mean because you're hurt, and grieving, and don't want to lose me." She reached for her jacket. "Come on, let's get you outside."

Draco hesitated, but she simply thrust his jacket into his hands. This time, her smile was genuine. "What do you think about visiting the Quidditch Museum?"

Tadaaaa :) Only four chapters left, so you don't have to wait much longer for the Happy End!

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