A/N—Hi lovely readers, thank you for your continued support and love for this story. Before you read this chapter, I would like to emphasize that this story has a happily ever after!
I'm going to go hide in my writing nook now. Please don't hate me.
The next chapter is called The Christmas Party and will be posted 03/29.
Chapter 19: The Silence
September-October
Year 6
Hermione's summer had been rather ordinary. She spent the first month with her parents and finished the summer with the Weasleys and Harry. She still brought her notebook with her to the Burrow in case she received word from Draco, but there had been nothing but silence.
Then there were the nightmares. She had been plagued by night terrors of darkness filled with the sound of Draco crying out in pain. Hermione shivered, the hair on her arms raised at the thought. Her mind had been playing sinister tricks on her all summer.
She fidgeted in her seat on the carriage, unable to sit still. She kept glancing anxiously at the window, watching the students pass by. Her eyes searched for a certain blond prefect that should be joining her carriage.
"Someone's eager to get back to school," Ron joked, mistaking Hermione's nerves for excitement, "I never would've guessed. How many times have you read the textbooks for this year?"
She smiled weakly, "Only once. You know me, always ready for class."
Harry peeped his head into the carriage, holding two envelopes in his hand.
"No need to be in the prefects' carriage today, Hermione." Harry stated smugly, "This year you and I have the Slug Club."
Hermione stood up from her seat, looking at Harry curiously, "The Slug Club?"
"Snape is taking over defense against the dark arts this year, so Professor Slughorn is taking over potions. I met him this summer with Dumbledore," Harry informed her matter-of-factly, "and we both have exclusive invitations to his compartment for an introduction."
"Well, I'll still be here in the prefects' carriage if anyone needs me," Ron mumbled sheepishly, slouching in his seat, "I wouldn't want to go anyway. He sounds like a tosser."
She looked over her shoulder at Ron guiltily, "See you at the welcome feast?"
"Yep," Ron sighed, reaching into his bag and pulling out a semi-squished sandwich that his mother had packed for the journey, "have fun with 'the Slug Club'."
Hermione slid the carriage door shut firmly behind her.
"Basically, this means Slughorn sees potential in us." Harry explained, his voice low as they walked down the train, "According to Dumbledore, Slughorn is known for handpicking students who go on to do outstanding work in various fields. It's his own way of creating connections with powerful people—before they have any influence. Then he reaps a variety of rewards once they establish their careers. Honestly, I'm not sure if we should be flattered or insulted."
"Curious, I wonder who else he selected for the club?" She wondered aloud, running her mind through a list of students, "I suppose there isn't much of a gamble on you considering you've been famous for over a decade already. He's a bit late to the game on that one."
Harry made a face, "Dumbledore practically used me as live bait to lure him back to Hogwarts this past summer. I suspect that I'm the reason Slughorn's coming out of retirement in the first place."
"If anyone else said that, it would sound egotistical, but from you it sounds perfectly reasonable," Hermione mentioned offhandedly.
He shrugged.
With each step she took towards Slughorn's carriage, Hermione's anxieties and excitement increased. Draco was a prefect and a high performer in potions; surely, he would be waiting in the carriage already. It would be difficult for her to sit next to him for the entirety of the train ride and not talk with him.
The door opened with a squeak and Hermione felt disappointment trickle through her as she looked around the carriage. No Draco. Perhaps he would join later? She put on a friendly smile as an older wizard approached them with a wide grin.
"Harry Potter! Lovely to see you again, and this must be Hermione Granger! I have heard many wonderful things about you." Professor Slughorn added with a flourish, "Miss Granger, 'the brightest witch of her age'."
Hermione's cheeks heated under his attention; she really did hate that title.
"Well, I have drinks on the table, as well as a pheasant dinner if you are hungry. Oh! You must know Miss Weasley here," he gestured to a baffled looking Ginny Weasley, who was nursing a drink, "I found her casting the most marvelous bat-bogey hex near the front of the train on my way in!"
Harry choked back a laugh, quickly covering it with a cough.
"Ah! Melinda Bobbin!" Slughorn turned to face the newest arrival, "I was at your family's apothecary just last month, I could not believe how they have expanded the chain into France! I was wondering…" his voice trailed off as Hermione and Harry found a seat next to Ginny.
Hermione made a face at Harry, who shrugged. They settled in for the rest of the train ride.
Once they arrived in the great hall, Hermione eagerly scanned the Slytherin table, her eye catching on Draco. Her heart dropped. His shoulders were slumped forward, and he was staring quietly at the wood of the table in front of him. He had dark shadows under his eyes and looked as if he had not slept since leaving school. She looked closely, he was still wearing his band, she could see it resting on his ring finger.
Hermione stilled as she watched him carefully, trying to make eye contact. His eyes never left the table as he slowly dragged a single digit across the groove in the wood, picking at it with his nail. Blaise leaned over and whispered something in his ear, he nodded slightly without looking up.
"Merlin, I've missed these feasts—don't tell my mum," Ron instructed as he piled his plate high with chicken legs and chips.
Harry helped himself to a treacle tart, sighing in satisfaction as he bit into the pastry.
Hermione found she had no appetite, she looked down at her filled plate with nausea.
"Blimey, look at the Slytherin table. They sure are quiet today." Ron mentioned as he bit into a chicken leg, "Malfoy looks bloody awful, though not any worse than I'd expect given what he's been up to lately."
Hermione glared at Ron defensively, "What do you mean up to lately? What are you implying?"
"I don't know, Hermione, I just have a bad feeling about him. I don't trust him after what Harry told me." Ron shrugged sheepishly.
Hermione looked accusingly at Harry, "What is he talking about?"
Harry grimaced; it was obvious that he had intentionally kept this information from Hermione.
"I saw him at Borgin and Burkes this summer when we were picking up school supplies. You know what type of clientele they serve there, all the dark magic they have in the shop. He had something reserved at the front. It was the way Borgin was reacting to him that made me suspicious, he gave Malfoy the same level of respect as his father. I think he might be following in his father's footsteps." Harry speculated darkly, keeping his voice low.
"No!" The word was out of Hermione's mouth before she could stop herself, she tried to calm the panic in her tone, "That could never happen, he's just a student. Why would they want a student? It's not possible, he would never."
Harry eyed her sympathetically, probably considering her history with Draco but not able to mention it because of Ron.
"How would you know that? I wouldn't put it past him, the prat." Ron muttered angrily.
"I know you want to give him the benefit of the doubt, Hermione, but—" Harry insisted before she interjected.
"I don't want to talk about it right now, this isn't the place. Either way, I don't believe it, it's not true. He is too young." Hermione stated firmly, her mind racing. She pushed her plate away, a lump formed in her throat. There was no way she could eat now.
To Harry's point, why was he at Borgin and Burkes? What had he reserved? She would have to ask him first thing Friday. Hermione was positive there would be a reasonable explanation for everything.
After registering her classes for the year with Professor McGonagall, Hermione found herself rushing back to Gryffindor tower. Though she was ecstatic for her upcoming set of classes—she had received all Outstandings and one Exceeds Expectations in her O.W.L.s last year—she was more excited to catch up with Draco.
Harry's suspicion of Draco was also making her uneasy, especially coupled with the fact that he had not updated her during the entire summer. Hermione was curious and nervous to hear about his summer with his parents at the manor.
She greeted her dormmates before pulling the curtain of her four-poster shut for privacy. Hermione hoped that she would be able to sneak out of her bed undetected, but she was so excited to finally see Draco that if caught she was sure that she could come up with an excuse to leave anyway. She was still a prefect, after all.
She sent his band a message.
R.O.R.?
Several moments later she sat down on her bed as she waited impatiently. She thought back to his constant corrections last year, how he insisted on calling the room of requirement the come-and-go-room.
C.A.G.R.? She amended with the ghost of a smile.
Ten minutes passed with no response. He had his ring on during the welcoming feast. Unless the enchantment had worn off, he should be receiving her messages right now.
Which left the only reasonable explanation to be that he was ignoring them.
Ignoring her.
Hermione's stomach flipped. All along, she had been concerned that his ring and notebook had been taken away this summer while he was home at the manor, but it was quickly becoming apparent that he had access the entire time.
Her band felt cold and hard against her skin. What had happened? They were in such a good place at the end of last year. 'And a thousand kisses when you're back', he had promised before leaving.
She laid down on her bed in the quiet, fully clothed, staring up at the ceiling overhead. For once, Hermione wished she could quiet her brain; she closed her eyes, pacing her breathing as she silently wished for sleep.
On the first day of classes, Hermione arrived even earlier than usual, hoping to catch Draco before the lesson began. She knew once she had him face to face that he would talk to her. There was no way he could avoid her when they shared so many classes. The pair had studied together for exams last year so he had to have done well on his O.W.L.s. She would not be surprised if he did equally as well as she had in all subjects.
Draco was probably just hesitant from the summer with his father. She could only imagine the type of venom Lucius Malfoy had spewed at his son over the previous months after their visit to the manor together. She thought of the look in Lucius' eyes when he saw Draco standing protectively between him and Hermione.
It would make sense that Draco was being more cautious this school year than previous years; she would simply have to assure him that it was safe to see her. They would be extra vigilant about meeting in secret.
The students piled in one by one, filling in the seats around her. She felt her frustration grow with each arrival that was not Draco. Finally, with less than a minute until the class began, Draco and Theo entered the room and snagged the final two seats in the back row.
Hermione could not help herself, she turned and blatantly stared at the pair of Slytherins. Up close, Draco looked even more exhausted than during the welcoming feast; his hair was uncharacteristically messy, his tie askew as if he did not look in the mirror this morning, and he looked even paler than usual with a greyish tinge to his cheeks. He was looking down again, thumbing through the page of their textbook absentmindedly. His eyes were fixated on a single spot, unmoving.
She caught Theo's gaze. Theo gave Hermione a pitiful look and shook his head once. A sigh of disappointment escaped her lips as she turned back to the front of the room. No use trying to talk before class, she would have to catch him as he left when there were fewer witnesses nearby.
As class finished up, she glanced over her shoulder; Draco and Theo were sharing a look as Theo packed up his parchment and books. Why did it seem that Draco was looking anywhere but at her? Her stomach turned uncomfortably.
"Psst Hermione," Harry waved a hand in front of her face as she turned back towards Harry. "McGonagall told us that Slughorn allows Exceeds Expectations for N.E.W.T. level potions. That means Ron and I are going to take potions with you this year after all!"
Hermione's face lit up at the news, "I'm thrilled for you! You'll be able to pursue the Aurror program now!"
Ron and Harry grinned ear-to-ear.
"We just might get you to join us," Harry teased.
She shook her head affectionately, "Best of luck with that."
"I still can't believe that we get to take potions without Snape." Ron marveled, "I heard Slughorn used to be head of Slytherin before he retired. Hopefully he doesn't favour them like Snape."
Hermione shrugged in a non-committal fashion, "He seemed rather friendly on the train to students of all houses, he seems more of an opportunist than anything. I can't see him giving preferential treatment based solely on house affiliation."
She pulled her attention away from Ron and looked back at the newly empty seats behind her. Her heart sank in her chest, she had missed her opportunity. He was gone.
The following day, Hermione sat with Harry behind Draco and Theo in double potions; the class was preparing the Draught of Living Death and competing for Slughorn's coveted Felix Felicis.
"You have to slice the sopophorous bean, not crush it," Hermione corrected Harry as she focused on chopping her own beans into even slices.
Harry shrugged as he referenced his tattered copy of Advanced Potion-Making, crushing his beans with the side of his blade and releasing the juice into his cauldron.
Hermione's eyes drifted over to the table in front of her. Draco and Theo were both bent over their cauldrons, meticulously following the instructions from their books. Draco held a single bean with his left hand, the blade with his right; his hand trembled as he moved to cut the bean, he stopped—trying unsuccessfully to steady himself. His bent his head in frustration.
Without looking up from his station, Theo pushed his pile of neatly sliced beans in front of Draco, taking Draco's uncut beans and working on them next. Draco added the juice from Theo's sliced beans to his cauldron with a quick nod of gratitude, the visible tremors subsiding as he stirred the potion seven times anti-clockwise.
Hermione could not help but notice that he was using his old stirring rod and not the gold rod that she had given him for his birthday last year.
She turned back to Harry, mentally counting the beans in front of him, "Harry, you have too many, the book says 12 beans, not 13."
"I don't know, Hermione, I'm just following my textbook."
Letting out a groan of annoyance, Hermione observed her cauldron. The result of her diligent work was a murky brown potion—not even close to the ideal shade of pale lilac that was infuriatingly in Harry's cauldron.
Harry won the felix felicis.
She should have been more annoyed that Harry defied the instructions and somehow created a perfect potion, but Hermione barely noticed; instead she watched Draco's shaky hands as packed up his workstation. A series of twitches ran through his fingers, the tips curling as he clenched his hands into fists.
"Time for lunch?" Harry asked quietly, looking at her with pity.
He had obviously noticed her longing expression directed towards Draco.
"Sure," she mumbled in embarrassment, the strap of her bag settling over her chest, "let's go."
Mustering all her remaining willpower, she did not look back as they exited the classroom.
As tempting as it was to send Draco more messages, Hermione refrained as he had yet to respond to anything from the summer or her messages on the first day. She half considered sending him another howler, this time without the faux accent, just to show him how upset she was with him. Honestly, how long did it take to write a single message?
She decided to spend her night in the library for once, rather than just using it as an excuse. Not that she had anywhere else to go. Hermione flipped through her textbook pages slowly, finding herself unable to focus. There was the sound of a faint cough nearby; she looked up curiously, not many people spent their Friday nights in a library this early into the school year.
Theo Nott was sitting alone at a large table at the edge of the room, surrounded by several open books. Indignation rose in her chest as she watched him reference a page, and then turn back to a separate book, rotating between the two. Theo and Draco were best mates, if Draco would not talk with her, maybe Theo would provide clarity.
Hermione strolled with purpose up to Theo Nott's library table, daring to pull out the chair next to him and sit in the vacant seat.
Theo looked up sharply, "Just what do you think you're doing, Hermione?"
He closed his books with a sequence of thuds.
"Theo, what's going on? He won't talk to me, he won't look at me, I haven't had a single word since before the summer." Hermione internally cringed at how pathetic she sounded.
Theo stood up, packing away his many tomes into his bag, "I'm sorry, I am truly sorry, but I can't say anything. I've given my word. It's just not up to me to have this conversation."
"Well, who is it up to then? Certainly not him if he won't even talk to me!" Her voice raised in resentment as Theo shook his head sadly, retreating without another word.
A few stray students looked at her curiously.
"Oh, sod off," she snarled at them, turning on her heel as she exited the library. A fire burned in her chest.
It was a Friday, their old date night. Not only was it a Friday, but it was her birthday. September 19. She was officially seventeen, an adult. There was no more trace on her, she could legally use magic and apparate outside of Hogwarts.
Draco and Hermione had spent their last birthdays together, and Hermione had never considered that he would not be there for her seventeenth birthday. She just knew that no matter what was going on between them, that he would show up. He would be there for her when she needed him.
"Happy birthday dear Hermione!" Harry and Ron sang in unison.
She shook her head fondly, smiling as they sang off-key and with great enthusiasm.
"Bet you thought we forgot," Harry winked, handing her a wrapped present, "but luckily for us, we have two journals with calendars in them from last Christmas."
The gift had clearly been wrapped by Ron; the wrapping had the classic lumps and bumps with excessive amounts of tape that came from a Ronald Weasley gift.
She beamed, tearing off the wrapping, "You two didn't have to get me anything!"
It was a box full of raspberry sugar quills—her favourite flavour, a container of bath salts, and a bottle of scented body lotion that changed colours and scents with each season.
"I love it!" She exclaimed, pulling them into a group hug. "It's perfect, I've just run out of sugar quills."
Her heart twisted; her last sugar quills were from the study basket that Draco had given her at the end of fifth year.
"Are you absolutely sure that you don't want to do anything for your birthday tonight? We can always raid the kitchens and see if they have any cake." Ron wiggled his eyebrows preposterously, "It's been forever since we last tickled the pear together."
Harry made a face, mumbling, "That's what she said."
She hesitated, "I'm sure, I just want a quiet night in with a good book. When you get to be my age you'll understand," she joked weakly.
Following her conversation with Harry and Ron, Hermione traversed to the seventh floor and up to the wall that housed the room of requirement. It was the first time that she had been back since the previous year. She thought back to the many Fridays that she spent with Draco in the room. The days of training in Dumbledore's Army. There were countless memories here.
Pacing in the hall, the door appeared, and she stepped inside impatiently. Scanning the room, Hermione felt her heart fall into her stomach. He was not here yet. She walked over to the large sofa and sat down. The room was eerily quiet except for the sound of the fireplace crackling.
She unclasped her bag, pulling out a book to read while she waited. Thumbing the title, Little Women, she smiled nostalgically, remembering when she and her mother read it together for the first time. She cracked the book open to her bookmarked page, continuing to read where she had left off.
Nearly an hour later, Hermione checked the clock, still no sign of Draco. For the first time, she began to doubt that he would visit. It was her birthday. He was her boyfriend. Draco knew how important this day was for her, he had to show…right?
She read the final page of her book, closing it with a soft thud. Her chest felt like it was filled with concrete. Hermione looked back to the door wistfully, trying to will it to open with Draco behind it. Even the room of requirement had limits on its magic. With a look to the clock, Hermione realized it was now past midnight.
It was no longer her birthday.
She sat for several beats in the silence, white noise filled her ears as she tucked her novel back into her bag.
There was no use waiting, if he had not shown up by now—he was not coming.
Pulling herself out of the large sofa and picking up her bag, Hermione felt her heart crack. She had wasted her entire birthday night sitting alone in the room of requirement, naively believing Draco would spend it with her. Hermione's eyes were stinging with tears. She slowly walked to the door; her blurry vision obscured the room before her as she began to exit in defeat.
Hermione passed by the table at the back of the room, completely oblivious to the mocha chocolate icebox cake that sat waiting for her with a single unlit candle in the center.
"Happy birthday, Hermione," she muttered bitterly to herself, "this year will be your best year yet."
She had tried to be patient, she had tried to be strong, and she found that could be neither anymore. Tears burned at Hermione's eyes as she tried to hold herself together long enough to arrive to the privacy of her four-poster bed. She steadied her breathing, hoping to return it to a normal cadence before her dormmates noticed her distress.
Hermione crept into the already dark dormitory, pulling the curtains around her bed for privacy. She curled up into a ball, her hands covering her face as she wept. Silent sobs wracked her body, shaking the mattress beneath her. This was not how she had expected to spend her birthday.
The curtain on her bed pulled back, she held her breath as she squinted her swollen eyes into the darkness. She saw the outline of a body pulling the curtain shut, the mattress dipped with a sudden addition in weight. An arm swung around her waist, holding her tightly.
"It's okay, Hermione, it's going to be okay," the voice murmured softly.
"Lavender?" Hermione's voice cracked into the air around them.
Lavender comfortingly ran a hand through Hermione's hair, "It's just me; it's okay, Hermione, I remember the pain of my first love," she whispered gently.
"Oh, no, I didn't—I mean, I don't—"
"Save your excuses," Lavender insisted, "you may be able to fool those oblivious boys of yours, but you can't fool me. You're not as sneaky as you think, slipping out of the dorm all the time. Don't worry, I promise not to tell anyone. I know the pain of a broken heart when I see it. I just want you to know you're not alone."
A muffled sob threatened to leave Hermione's chest, it burned her from the inside out. She gave up trying to argue, at this moment she needed nothing more than to be held. Leaning back against Lavender, she closed her eyes. Hermione focused on the feeling of Lavender rubbing soft circles into her back and humming tenderly.
"Thank you," she whispered into the night air.
One month into school and Hermione was miserable. Draco stepped into every class at the last moment and snuck out just as they ended. He skipped almost every meal in the great hall and the ones he attended he would always leave with Blaise and Theo directly after finishing his food.
He had not looked at her once the entire school year, she knew because she was watching him almost constantly—she physically could not help herself. Draco's eyes looked anywhere but at her, they looked completely unrecognizable to the eyes she had spent the previous year staring into; his grey eyes looked corpselike and unfeeling, as if he were emotionless. She doubted he was sleeping.
Hermione was growing more despondent by the day. He was all she could think about and it seemed like he did not give her a second thought. He could not even bother to look at her.
Eyeing the prefect patrol list for the week, Hermione stopped in her tracks.
Ronald Weasley (Gryffindor) & Draco Malfoy (Slytherin) Friday Night Patrol
Her heart pounded against her ribcage.
Should she even try?
She took a breath, "Ron, would you be able to swap me patrols this Friday?" Hermione asked, her voice higher than usual. She tried to act disinterested in his response.
Ron made a face, "You sure, 'Mione? I'm assigned with Malfoy this week, and he's not exactly the easiest patrol partner. Plus, if Harry's theory is correct and he's a—"
"I'm sure," she shrugged casually, cutting him off from finishing his sentence, "I just need to use the astronomy tower during the night I was assigned and hoped you could swap me."
He looked at her skeptically, "What do you have for astronomy?"
She paused, trying to think of an excuse, "Venus. Venus is in a really great spot on Sunday and I wouldn't want to miss the chance for extra credit with my star chart."
"I wouldn't dare stand between you and your extra credit." Ron chuckled, "Hopefully he won't be too much of a git to you."
Hermione nodded, lost in her thoughts. She would be spending her first Friday of the school year with Draco. They would have several hours together for patrol; now he would have to give her some answers.
As Hermione approached the corridor where prefects met for patrol, she saw a shadow in the distance. It was shorter than her, with soft curves. It was clearly not Draco.
Her mouth went dry.
Hermione stumbled over her own feet, catching herself at the last second from falling onto the stone floor.
"What are you doing here?" Hermione blurted out before thinking.
Pansy scowled, crossing her arms, "What are you talking about? We have prefect patrol tonight."
"No," Hermione argued, "I have prefect patrol with Malfoy tonight."
"Yeah," Pansy rolled her eyes, "and he traded with me. When he found out that you swapped patrol with Weasley, he couldn't trade it away fast enough. Owes me a big favour for this one, if you know what I mean."
Pansy continued talking but Hermione could not hear her, white noise filled her ears. Draco knew she was going to be his partner and he purposefully traded away his spot. After weeks of lying to herself, Hermione finally conceded defeat.
Hermione felt the Pull settle into her chest like a dull ache, consistent and throbbing. She did not know how to tell it to stop yearning for Draco; how to tell it that he could talk to her, that he did not want to talk to her, that he did not want her.
Hermione felt as if she was losing her mind. She could understand if he were limited in communication during the summer when he was home with his father, but this was ridiculous. There was no one monitoring him at school. They had plenty of ways to sneak around without professors or fellow students catching them.
What was his long-term plan? Just ice her out until she went away and never spoke to him again? What would even happen to their bond if they decided not to be together? Would she be forever connected to him, unable to be with him? She could not imagine wanting anyone else.
He unilaterally decided to end their relationship and did not have the decency to bother telling her to her face. This was a thousand times worse than break-up by owl. She decided that she would force him to face the repercussions of his actions. Hermione was going to force him to talk with her after class by catching him off guard and approaching him directly.
That day after potions, Hermione turned in her potion vials and walked out of the classroom with several minutes left in the class, much to the confusion of Professor Slughorn. Luckily, she was in the Slug Club and he was lenient with his club members. He waved her off quickly.
Hermione then waited outside the classroom door, her arms crossed, counting down the minutes until the class would end. Finally, Slughorn dismissed the class. She felt her heart pounding in her ears as her classmates walked out of the classroom and around her, giving her an odd look for standing in front of the doorway.
In the back of the dispersing class, the Slytherins walked out in a group. Theo nudged Draco and gestured towards Hermione with a jut of his chin. Draco's eyes finally caught hers, she held her breath. His eyes looked cold and detached as he looked through her, turning back to Theo. Her cheeks flushed in anger as she stood her ground.
Draco fixed his eyes on the ground as he walked past; she impulsively reached out a hand and grabbed his arm roughly, "D—Malfoy."
He looked up sharply at her, a flicker of pain passed by his eyes as he flinched, retracting as if her touch had burned her.
"UGH!" Pansy shrieked, grabbing Draco's other arm and pulling him away, "I can't believe that she touched you. You'd better burn those robes."
Hermione's mouth opened; a retort died on her lips as she watched Draco walk away. Her mind went blank as she forgot anything she had planned. She did not know what to expect, but she had not expected that. Hermione watched as they retreated, their forms blurring away with her tears.
It was really over.
Something in her snapped, weeks of sorrow and confusion was replaced with frustration and anger. It filled her chest until she saw red. She absolutely refused to spend any more of her time following him around like a lost puppy, begging for scraps of attention.
It was a Saturday and their first Hogsmeade trip of the year; Hermione pulled on her tightest jeans and her favourite green blouse, she finished by braiding her hair. She faltered for a moment, realizing that this was the outfit she wore the first day Draco told her he loved her. She looked in the mirror, straightening her locket.
Hermione was sick and tired of spending her days pining after Draco. This morning, she resolved to stop moping around and to enjoy her day with Harry. They would go for ice cream, out to the shops, and she would buy at least two new books. Hermione was determined to have a good day. She met Harry at the front of the school just before the carriages began departing for Hogsmeade.
"You look happy today," Harry commented with a smile, "do you have a hot date?"
She laughed freely, taking his arm in hers, "Why yes, in fact, I do; you might have heard of him—he's handsome, famous, the youngest Hogwarts seeker in a century—I think you'd quite like him."
Harry grinned, "He sounds like a tosser."
He opened the door to their carriage, helping her as she stepped inside. Hermione caught a glimpse of Blaise and Theo just as Harry shut their carriage door. Hermione forced herself to look away from the window and not watch for Draco.
They had the carriage to themselves, Hermione looked over at Harry who was distractedly staring out the window at Theo.
"I haven't heard much from you two lately." She started, hoping she sounded casual, "How have you been?"
Harry waited a moment, then two before responding, "We're fine." He said unconvincingly.
"I mean, if you ignore the fact that his father is a death eater and wants me dead," he clarified bitterly, "and that he thinks we should break up because he wants to 'protect me' from his family."
Hermione reached over and took his hand in hers.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, stroking his hand with her thumb as she listened.
"And he's been my happiest moment through all of this, you know? I've lost so many people in my life; I can't lose him too. I get it, he thinks that I will be safer without him, but I don't know how to make him understand that I've never been safe. Even before I was born there was the prophesy and I've been in danger ever since. Theo thinks that he is helping me but all he's doing is breaking my heart." Harry sighed deeply, as if he carried a great weight on his shoulders, "Listen to me, I sound ridiculous."
"You love him," she smiled softly.
Harry's striking green eyes shone as he looked at her curiously, "Of course I do."
"Have you told him?" She asked.
"After two years he doesn't even want to label us. He's practically allergic to the words." Harry chuckled dryly, "You really think he's going to be okay with me saying 'love' when he won't even say 'boyfriend'?"
Hermione nodded; she did think he would like to know.
"I don't even know if I can consider this a break-up when we aren't even 'official', but it sure feels like we are heading to a break-up." Harry chewed the inside of his cheek anxiously, "He's a bit freaked out after last year, finding out your…whatever we are, is sharing memories with Voldemort when your father is a death eater is apparently prime breakup material."
"Oh Harry," Hermione murmured softly, she could relate to Theo's fear. That was the entire reason she had lied to Harry about her relationship with Draco. To protect him.
"Enough about me and my sad love life. Let me live vicariously through you. How are you doing? I know it's been a year since you and Malfoy broke up, but you haven't even looked at another bloke in over a year. Should we find you a real date this weekend instead of that tosser Harry Potter?" He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
She sighed, "I'm not interested in anyone else. I'm perfectly content being alone."
The lie twisted in her chest.
"Well at least you're taking the news alright," Harry added, "I thought you would've been more upset."
"The news?"
"Draco and Pansy," Harry clarified as Hermione's pulse quickened, "apparently she spent the summer with him at Malfoy Manor; it sounds like they're pretty serious. She wouldn't stop talking about it in defense against the dark arts."
Hermione inhaled sharply, feeling as if the air was sucked out of the carriage and she was gasping for one final breath.
"Oh yes, that, of course I heard about them," she feigned nonchalance, her heart pounding in her ears.
Hermione thought back to Draco's words the year before, 'I don't want Pansy', 'every time, no matter what, I'd always choose you. I hope you know that.'
"They deserve each other," Harry grumbled in annoyance.
She swallowed hard, nodding slowly as she fought back the tears that pricked at her eyes, "They sure do."
A/N – P.S. Yesterday, I published a humour/fluff oneshot called The Study Spot. Just thought I'd mention it if you're in need of something happy after this sad chapter. Thanks for reading!
