TW: mention of miscarriage
Hermione stared at the spot of floor that Draco had just vacated. She had known it would be like this, that suddenly, and without warning, the happiness bubble would burst and they'd go back to being strangers again. But she hadn't expected him to just poof away at the first threat from Ron. Not even a threat-a tantrum. She missed him already.
"Don't mind me, I'll get out of your hair!" Ginny sang as she opened the bathroom door. When she saw Hermione standing alone in the middle of the living room, she stopped in her tracks. "Where's the blond?"
"Gone home," Hermione said sadly.
"Oh… is it my fault? Because I had no idea he'd be here with you-"
"No, no," Hermione sighed. "We only just arrived ourselves. Ron was here when we got in."
Ginny groaned. "What an arse."
"A right git," Hermione agreed. "Tried to get all territorial when Draco said we just got back from holiday, as if he has some first boyfriend's right to me."
"So Malfoy just disappeared?" Ginny asked.
"He stood up for me. But he didn't get mean, he just sort of… laughed at Ron." Hermione tried not to smile as she thought of Ron's shocked face when she had taken Draco's arm.
"Oh Merlin-and I'm sure that went over swimmingly with Ronald!" Ginny leaned against the back of the couch.
"To say the least. Draco did leave right after you arrived, however." Hermione slumped into her cushy armchair. Ginny sat opposite her on the couch and looked her friend over.
"You look good, though," Ginny said, eyes sparkling.
Hermione tried not to smile but she couldn't help it. Aside from the episode with Ron, she did feel… wonderful.
"Thanks, Gin."
"Did you invite a certain former Slytherin into your boudoir on this holiday?" Ginny asked.
"Wow! Right out of the gate," Hermione exclaimed. She sat forward and blushed, running a hand over her plaited hair.
"You DID! I knew it!" Ginny cackled.
"No, I did not, thank you VERY much!" Hermione said. "He never made any sort of intimate gesture towards me." Aside from holding her while she cried. And brushing her hair out of her face. And holding her face in his hands. And making her breakfast. And making her countless cups of tea.
"Then why, may I ask, are you smiling?"
Hermione sighed. "I don't know if I can put words to it. It was just… the most rejuvenating weekend I've had. Ever, I think. You wouldn't recognize him anymore."
"Is he stoic and emotionless, now? Because he definitely was that night he apparated into our parlour," Ginny said. "All Mr. Darcy-ish."
"Hardly a fair comparison considering that Darcy and Elizabeth never went on holiday together."
"Untrue! She went to Pemberley with her aunt and uncle and then had that weekend playing the piano with Darcy's sister and then they fell in love and stopped hating each other. Did you even read 'Pride and Prejudice'?"
"Do you even KNOW me?" Hermione scoffed. "Also, I stopped hating him a long time ago. And he doesn't have a sister."
Ginny laughed and Hermione couldn't help but join in. She shook her head and thought about just what sort of man Draco was, now. A man struggling with extreme guilt, overcoming years of emotional and physical abuse, but making his way as an independent man, in a world that he used to denounce.
"I'll say this: I saw him clearly for the first time in our whole acquaintance. And there is nothing to loathe about him. I saw him at a very low point, but… never once did I see a glimpse of the petulant child he once was. If ever anyone could be 'a changed man'..."
"My word," Ginny said, amazed. "But did you see him without his clothes on? Because if you didn't, you should immediately return to the seaside and rectify that situation."
"I saw him shirtless, but it's not what you think," Hermione said, though she blushed. She looked down at her hands. "I told him everything. About Ron, and the one after Ron, who… who-"
"Whose name we don't say," Ginny finished for her.
Hermione nodded. "I never felt afraid, though. Not even with what I know from his past… there's so much more about him that I didn't know. You know he's a barrister, now?"
"I had no idea."
"He is also an excellent chef, and I have a suspicion that he's been dabbling in portrait sketching. He lives in Muggle London, too, and he's donating the Manor to the historic trust. His mother is in hospice at St. Mungo's. He has other tattoos besides that one. He enjoys riding his bicycle, he loves standing in the ocean until his feet go numb, and he has an excellent wit." Hermione hugged her knees to her chest. She held back one of her favorite things about him: he was, of course, marvelous at making her feel validated and unashamed of herself. She wondered when he got so good at listening. And touching her without it feeling like an invasion of her space.
"From the bottom of my heart, and in all seriousness…" Ginny paused, serenity filling her already glowing cheeks. "Draco Malfoy may be the very best thing that has ever happened to you."
Hermione rubbed a hand over her face and let her head fall back against the chair. She closed her eyes and sighed dramatically, which caused Ginny to giggle. "I'm doomed," Hermione said simply.
"Absolutely fucked, my beautiful witch!"
"I will say," Hermione began, "that I am so thankful for your friend Gary."
Ginny burst out laughing. "Poor Gary!"
"If it weren't for Gary picking that restaurant, I never would've run into Draco."
"He must have quite the hero complex, considering the lengths he has gone to ensure that you're fully healed," Ginny said.
"Honestly? He's gutted about things that went on between us before."
"As he should be, he was a prick!"
Hermione stood and kicked off her shoes. "He has been punished enough, Gin. He needs to heal as much as the rest of us." She padded towards the kitchen. "Since you seem to have neglected to bring any wine, I hope you don't mind if I have a glass of my own."
"Please, drink the whole bottle and let me live vicariously through you!" Ginny called after her.
"How have YOU been feeling?" Hermione asked.
Ginny didn't answer. Hermione poked her head out of the kitchen to find Ginny folding her hands over her belly. She was biting her lip.
"What? What is it?" Hermione abandoned the wine and knelt on the floor in front of her friend.
"I'm terrified that this one won't make it," Ginny whispered.
"Do the doctors think you're at risk for another miscarriage?" Hermione asked gently.
"No, no. And I've done everything right this time. No coffee, no fish, no junk food except for an occasional sweet thing…" Ginny sighed, tears forming on her lashes. "We just really need this one."
Hermione wrapped her arms around Ginny's neck. Ginny sniffed into her shoulder.
"Harry is so good, 'Mione. So good to me and so kind, even when he's having a hard time. But I just don't know if either one of us could bear another loss."
"Third time's the charm, so they say," Hermione said. She rubbed Ginny's back in small circles.
"They're lying jerks, whoever they are." Ginny pulled back and wiped her tears on her sleeve. "Besides, there's nothing charming about the first trimester. Do you know what I ate yesterday? Kale. With raspberry jam. And then I ate four bananas. And then I threw all of it up, and ate a cookie."
Hermione smiled.
"And you're still working with McGonagall," Hermione said. She reached for a box of tissues that was sitting on top of a large stack of moving bins. She handed it to Ginny, who blew her nose soundly.
"Somewhat, though I'm mostly just consulting with her from home, and looking after Rose and Hugo while Ron's at work. They're a welcome distraction and they're both lovely." Ginny let out a long breath.
"I am sorry about Ron, though," Ginny said. "Especially that he's taken to showing up at your house and sending you long letters."
Hermione shrugged. "He's hurting," she said. "But I liked it better when we weren't talking."
"So, you don't think you'll ever be friendly again?"
"I don't want to be friends, Gin. I want him to leave me alone."
Ginny sighed, but she nodded as if she agreed that it was for the best. Just then, someone frantically knocked on the front door. Hermione and Ginny exchanged a puzzled look. Hermione stood and looked through the peep-hole. She threw open the door to reveal Draco supporting Ron, who appeared to have run head-first into a freight train. Blood was gushing from Ron's nose and he was squinting one eye, which was well on its way to being purple. Draco also had the beginnings of a black eye. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what had happened.
"First off, you should know that it was self-defense," Draco panted, supporting Ron under one arm. Ron now appeared to be as limp as a wet noodle, and entirely unable to stand up.
"Put him on the couch," Hermione said, stepping out of the way. Ginny stood up quickly and arranged a pillow on the arm rest for Ron's head. Once he deposited Ron onto the couch, Draco braced his hands on his knees. Ginny raced into the kitchen and returned with a hand towel packed with ice. She attended to Ron, while Hermione pulled Draco to sit down in the armchair so she could look at his eye.
"What the hell happened?" Hermione asked. When her thumb brushed his eyebrow, he winced.
"I apparated to outside your building with the express intent of walking home. After our last encounter, I had some steam I needed to work off," Draco said.
"Apparently you burned off some steam on Ron's face!" Hermione said.
Draco grabbed her hand so she would stop prodding his skin. "He was sitting on a bench out front and when he saw me, he took a swing at me," Draco said.
"Apparently he forgot that he was holding his wand," Ginny said, forcing another pillow under Ron's head.
"He didn't seem to have it. So, he cracked me right in the eye, the bastard," Draco pressed his eyes shut and winced again. "He got in three more swings before I got my footing. I only hit him the once, to make him stop. I just wanted to talk like men."
"He smells like a distillery," Ginny said, plugging her nose.
"Bloody hell," Hermione sighed. She rubbed her cheek with her free hand. Draco rubbed the pad of his thumb over her knuckles.
"I'll floo home for Harry's help getting Ron to St. Mungo's," Ginny said, standing. "He's in no condition to travel side-along."
"Let me," Draco said. "I'll meet the both of you at St. Mungo's once I've got Potter."
"Are you sure you feel alright to travel by floo?" Hermione asked. Draco squeezed her hand.
"I'll have them look me over at the hospital, too, if it'll make you feel better," he said.
"It would," Hermione said. "Just to be safe."
"Then, I will." He stood up slowly and groaned. "Merlin, I am sorry, Hermione."
She sighed. "You defended yourself."
"I am sorry that this is the way the weekend ended," he clarified.
"It's better than apparating away without so much as a 'farewell'," she muttered through her teeth, raising an eyebrow.
Draco looked up at her and shook his head with a sad smile. He had nothing to say in his own defense; she was right, and he was still a git. Hermione graced his jaw with her fingertips and inclined her head towards the fireplace.
"Go on, you."
Draco stood, his back to Ginny, and Ron's pummeled face. They were but a hair's breath apart. He grasped the nape of Hermione's neck, and pressed his lips to her forehead so softly that she wasn't quite sure if they had actually touched. Her heart had other ideas, leaping into her throat and beating madly. He turned away and took one last look at Ron, before taking a handful of floo powder from the bowl on the mantle.
"What do you call your home, Ginny?" Draco asked.
"Oh! Just say 'the Nest'," Ginny said.
Draco did so, and disappeared in a flash of green. Hermione stood in the place Draco had left her, looking gobsmacked and flushed. When she finally came back to her senses, Ginny was looking at her with a wide grin.
"You're completely doomed," Ginny said.
Hermione rolled her eyes and retrieved her wand from her bag, trying to ignore the tingling sensation on her forehead. Ron was beginning to stir and the bleeding had stopped, which meant that it was reasonably safe for them to floo with him in tow. Hermione supported most of his weight on her own shoulders to prevent Ginny from carrying anything other than Ron's left arm. They hustled him to the fireplace, took a handful of floo powder each, and said their destination in unison:
St. Mungo's.