Guess who finished a fanfiction today? Not me, but I'm sure someone out there did. Saw that joke on tumblr and it made me lol. We're getting close. I'd guess about 4-5 more chapters. I have the next one and the last one written. Just have to bang out the middle.

Chapter 37

Crash and Burn

Saturday, May 15

Hermione

Hermione had an addiction.

Ever since the beginning of the year, she'd felt like she was an outsider. Everyone was moving on. Everyone had plans. Sad plans, for some of them. Some of her classmates just wanted to forget. They spent their time chasing external highs and lows. They'd paired off with someone who could numb their pain and distract them from reality. They seemed blissfully happy. Some wanted the world to be a better place. They focused on righting wrongs and building a future. They were the power couples. Harry and Ginny. Neville and Luna. They hadn't run out of courage.

Hermione had never felt part of either group. She just wanted to press pause. She wanted to experience something different. She grieved the adolescence and future she'd envisioned when she was 11, fresh faced and enthusiastically boarding the Hogwarts Express. She would fiercely defend every one of her actions. She'd never been one to allow injustice to stand.

But now that it was all over, she felt cheated. She loved her parents and her childhood. She couldn't have asked for a more wonderful upbringing or found family. But she should never have had to deal with all that. She should have just been able to go to school and revel in her new world. She shouldn't have had to research why she was considered to be worth less. She shouldn't have had to endure torture and stress and bigotry.

And then it was over. She'd sacrificed everything. Happily. She'd always known what was right. And she'd always been willing to fight for it.

She'd do it again in a heartbeat.

But she'd felt empty. She'd felt pointless. For more than half her life, she'd been fighting on behalf of a cause.

And suddenly, it didn't matter anymore. People older and wiser than her were dealing with the aftereffects. And she was just left to grapple with the pieces. Harry had thrown himself into his eventual career. Ron had committed himself into his passions. And Hermione was just there. Trying to figure out how to move on.

And then, she'd found Draco. A similar soul. Someone who was equally tortured. He had the same weighty expectations thrust upon him. Hers were because of herself, his were because of his family.

Her parents didn't forgive her. But she didn't feel like she could grieve like one of the Weasleys.

Harry, at some point, had figured out how to have fun. Honestly? It made her heart swell. If anyone deserved to be carefree, he did.

But Draco made her feel like she belonged. Draco made her feel like everything would be alright and normal again.

It was a band-aid, a mask, but one she was happy to indulge.

He made her want to make plans. To think about what might happen when this blasted society stopped thinking of her as someone who was so successful despite all she'd faced. He made her want to feel powerful again. Like in First Year when she'd been naïve and hadn't considered that she might be considered less. Like in Third Year when she was defending Hagrid. Like in Fifth Year when Umbridge threatened all that was good and real. Like when they were on the run and the only thing keeping her going was that she was one third of Voldemort's destruction. Like when she was lying on the floor, writhing in pain at Bellatrix's curse, forcing her mouth shut, knowing that any pain she endured would explode exponentially in her heart if she gave up the secret she knew.

He made her happy. She would never have seen it coming. But he did.

And sitting there on a bench in Hogsmeade with him, holding his hand, and watching the passersby made her feel blissful.

Hermione had dreaded when it would finally become apparent that she and Draco were dating. She didn't want to deal with the whispers and stares and criticism.

But, like always, it seemed she'd overthought it.

No one really seemed to care.

There had been some whispers here and there. And some blatant stares from some of the other students. But it really hadn't been a big deal.

She vaguely wondered if Draco had bought out the Prophet. There hadn't been one peep about it. She'd been sure there would.

She thought about all the time they spent together. Casual afternoons in the library. Carefree mornings on the grounds. Nighttime rendezvous in stolen dark corners.

But it had nothing on right now.

He looked so free. She'd been so worried. She'd seen from the first day of term how he'd stuck to the shadows. How he'd stayed far away from any kind of attention, whether positive or negative. Biting his tongue in class discussions. Quitting quidditch. She'd been worried any attention that they got would bring all that back.

And though she'd never admit it, there had been a small part of her that was worried he'd be embarrassed.

But it hadn't. He seemed lighter.

He was proud.

Her parents had always been proud of her. Harry and Ron always rolled their eyes, but she loved the way they beamed with pride whenever she succeeded. She didn't think she'd ever get over the thrill of Professor McGonagall complimenting her.

But all that had nothing on the way Draco had beamed and stared around the entrance hall, holding her hand with that smug expression on his face. Like he'd won… everything.

It had made her melt.

She was used to people being proud of her.

But she'd never experienced someone being proud just to be with her.

And that loyalty and security and warmth was better than any drug she was sure the muggle or wizarding communities could come up with.

So, she rested her head on Draco's shoulder and listened to him complain about the state of some quidditch rule she didn't give two shits about, trying not to combust with the emotions she wasn't ready to put into words yet.

Tuesday, May 25

Draco

Granger slammed her book shut, making him jump.

"I've made a decision," she said defiantly.

Draco glanced up from his notes at her. "Yes?

"I'm going to win my parents back. I'm not going to wallow anymore. I stand by what I did and though they don't agree, I truly don't think I had any other choice. At least, at the time, I don't think I could have come up with a better solution to keep them alive. I'm not going to stop being their daughter, in the biological sense or any other."

Draco smiled at her. "That's great!"

He turned back to his notes, but she kept talking.

"I don't want to force them. Well, I do. But it should be their choice. But I'm not going to make it easy for them to make the wrong one. So, I'm just going to go down there."

Draco had expected this. He'd known she'd end up there even if she hadn't figured it out yet.

"After graduation, I think."

Draco nodded, trying to untangle whatever was going on in his head.

He'd been feeling uneasy for weeks now. He hadn't been able to put a finger on it.

"I'd like you to come with me."

Draco stared at her. "What?"

"You heard me.

"Uh… I'm not sure that would be… appropriate." Draco thought of the letter.

Granger scoffed. "Please, my mother already adores you. She'll be over the moon to see you. And it would just be for a couple weeks. Before you go to New York."

Draco tried to croak something out but closed his mouth when he found he had nothing to say.

"It would mean so much to me, Draco." She squeezed his hand with her smaller one and his heart with her plea. "It won't be easy and… I'm afraid."

Draco felt like he was falling, crashing to the earth.

"I'll just be in the way."

"Nonsense, it'll be great. Plus, I think you'll like it more. It won't be so hot." She was beaming at him, and it made him want to recoil from the light.

The bell rang. "Well, I'm not taking no for an answer, so you'd better start your packing list."

She kissed him on the cheek and bounded off.

Draco watched after her.

He should be happy. Nervous, but excited.

But he wasn't.

He wasn't scared.

He didn't know what he was.

Saturday, June 5

Hermione

Hermione lurked by the entrance to the Slytherin common room, pacing.

Slowly, students emerged, heading up to breakfast. Some smirked at her knowingly. Most ignored her.

She waited. And waited.

She heard a familiar laugh and jerked her head up.

Theo was trying to force Draco to wear a paper crown.

Draco spotted her and shoved Theo away before stalking over to her and standing awkwardly in front of her.

"Hi."

His cheeks pinked slightly, and he stuffed his hands into his pockets, twisting back and forth ever so slightly, in a very un-Draco manner. "If I'd known we had plans, I wouldn't have slept in."

If Hermione wasn't so nervous, she would have laughed. It was 8:30. Summers at the Weasleys' gave her the impression that teenage boys never wanted to be awake before 11.

"I haven't been waiting long," she lied.

He smirked a little bit and she knew she hadn't fooled him.

She cleared her throat, pointing to the paper crown. "What's this?"

He rolled his eyes. "Theo doesn't like doing what he's told."

Hermione took it gently and inspected it. "I seem to remember you used to enjoy your birthday very much. Absurdly large packages of treats. Raucous choruses of "happy birthday." Simpering girls, begging to give you their best wishes." She reached up and placed the crown back on top of his head.

His eyes sparkled for just a second before returning to the uncharacteristically fragile and hesitant look they'd held since he'd emerged. "That was before." He took it off.

She pursed her lips.

"Pansy, Theo, and mother were given explicit instructions not to acknowledge today in any way. And I was ensured those instructions made their way to you as well."

She peered up at him through her lashes.

"Maybe I'm not very good at following instructions either."

He laughed. "That doesn't sound like you."

She shrugged. "People change."

He rolled his eyes. "Fine. Hand it over, Granger."

Sheepishly, Hermione grasped the small box from her pocket and shoved it at him, heart hammering as he inspected the package.

"It's nothing really. It's stupid and if you hate it, you can just give it back. I swear I won't be offended. I've never really been good at this kind of thing. Overthink it and end up bumbling the whole thing. I usually just give people books. Harry and Ron are usually polite enough to accept them begrudgingly. But Ginny held an intervention. Said a book would not be appropriate-"

"Granger." He was pulling the ribbon now.

"-never was any good at wrapping. Never could learn the spell. Well, I could learn it, but I always forget until I need it and I don't really keep a lot of books around with the more domestic spells. So, I just do it the old-fashioned way. Never was a very artistic sort of-"

"Hey!" He swatted her hand away as she went to grab for it, taking the top off the box.

"Of course, it's probably too much. I understand if it is. I should have considered. Don't want to overwhelm you. I should have respected your wishes..."

She fell silent as he pulled it out of the box, holding it up to examine it and then her with a curious expression.

Embarrassment thundered through her, threatening to make her bolt. The intensity of his stare kept her rooted to the spot, but didn't dampen her desire to run. So, if her feet couldn't, her mouth certainly could.

"Definitely too much. Never had a boyfriend to give a gift to before. Not sure what level of gift is appropriate. Of course, you seem the type to shower people with obscenely extravagant gifts. I remember a lot of them being unwrapped at the Slytherin table, you sitting there with that stupid smirk as you flaunted your wealth-"

"Granger!"

She ignored him. "You'll probably think it's creepy. I remember you bragging about that stupid one you got for your birthday Fifth Year. And it would catch the light in Arithmancy sometimes, distracting me. Stupid gaudy monstrosity with all those ridiculous crystals-"

"Would you shut-"

"But then I realized you don't wear it anymore. And your mother asked if you wanted to stop and buy a new one in Hariborous. So, I thought... maybe you still needed one. Anyway, it's stupid."

He grabbed her arm as she went to run it through her hair again.

"Granger. Shut up."

Hermione focused on the weight of his hand on her wrist and the intensity she knew was coming from his eyes.

"Anyway, happy birthday, Draco."

He chuckled. "I'd like to chat more about how much attention you've clearly been paying all these years you claimed to not notice me."

She snapped her face up, and his lips were there to meet her.

"Thank you. It's very nice."

"You... you actually like it?" she asked tentatively.

He nodded, slipping the watch onto his empty wrist. "Is this a muggle brand? I don't recognize the name."

She nodded slowly. "It's... not new. I hope that's not a problem either. It's a quite expensive brand, but it's in perfect condition. I had it checked. I just… when I found it-"

He stopped her desire to continue to run her mouth nervously.

"I like it very much, Granger. I promise. And I wouldn't like it nearly as much if I were worried you spent a lot of money on it."

Hermione sighed. "No, none at all."

He looked curiously at her, but she decided to distract him. She suddenly wasn't brave enough to divulge the truth.

"Now. Would you like to go for a walk and enjoy the picnic I packed," she motioned to the basket. "Or would you like to invite me inside and thank me properly?"

He smirked and practically dragged her inside Slytherin.

Sunday, June 6

Draco

Draco lay awake, tossing a snitch in the air in his bed. He listened to Theo and Blaise breathing quietly. At least there wasn't snoring.

He felt instant crushing guilt.

Greg and Vince should both be here, snoring like dragons. They'd been so bad, he'd taught himself how to cast a silencing charm a year early. Though, he'd quickly discovered its other uses. There were a lot of silenced four posters that year.

Guilt didn't make it easier to sleep. He tried counting the bricks above his head. Planning for exams.

It was no use. He grabbed the watch Granger had given him to investigate.

It really was quite nice. Black and gold. Understated but timeless. He weighed it in his hand. Expensive things were always so delightfully weighty.

He ran his fingers over the smooth glass and metal, feeling the markings on the back and investigating them for more information about the brand. Perhaps he'd see if they made women's styles as well. Accessories were always a good bet for mother.

G.G.

A model indicator?

No. It was in a different style than what he guessed was a serial number.

He plucked his old family watch out of the bedside table and compared them. Gold and diamonds. "Ridiculous crystals," she'd called them. He scoffed. The watch itself was probably worth more than she'd ever own in her life. Not that she'd ever care. It was disgusting really. No one needed diamonds on the bottom of a watch band. Who would even see them?

Watches were a traditional seventeenth birthday gift. But father had sent it to him a year early to remind him what it meant to be a Malfoy. He'd flaunted it the last few weeks of term. Reveling in the way it made the other boys jealous. The way the girls had swooned over the diamonds. Solid weight securing his future. A beacon of pride and status.

It had felt like a shackle the whole next year.

It was a death sentence after that.

He glared at it, not for the first time considering throwing it in the fire and seeing how long it would take to melt.

He'd donate it, but the inscription on the back would raise eyebrows. The magic used to engrave it wasn't the kind you could just erase.

He ran his fingernail through the grooves, letting it catch on the "M."

Initials.

That was it. G.G. They were initials.

She'd said it was second hand. Well, at least now he knew she was telling the truth.

He let his mind wander, wondering about the bloke who'd worn it before him. Had he been a George? He held the two watches up, letting his eyes cross until all he could see was an "M" and a blurry "G." They looked nice together. Perhaps one day… No.

Maybe there was a star or something that started with a "G" that he could name a future child after. He couldn't recall any from the Black family tree. Most of the better ones got reused anyway. Who wanted to be named Betelgeuse anyway? He thought he recalled a distant cousin of his grandmother's they called Genie.

Genie.

Gene.

"You both look so lovely… can't wait until Gene remembers and I can show him these photos!"

Gene Granger.

Hermione Jean Granger.

G.G.

She'd given him her father's watch.

He dropped it like it had burned him.

In a way it had.

I have re-read my story twice, trying to figure out if I've already named Hermione's father. That was a special kind of torture. I don't think I did, but if you remember me doing so, drop a line so I can fix the inconsistencies.