June 2009
"No, that just looks tacky!" Hermione grumbled yanking the bright maroon tie off her husband's neck. He flashed her a look of complete dread as she added the tie to a huge multi colored pile upon their bed. The two of them had been fishing through clothes for his dinner meeting with the Minister of Magic and several other Heads of Department. Ron was first in line for a Head job.
"If you keep plowing on at this rate, I'll have to go naked," Ron said bitterly. Hermione flashed him a small grin before returning to their cluttered wardrobe.
"Your father wouldn't appreciate that much," she replied before tossing Ron a neutral grayish green tie. A look of disgust flashed across his face before he hesitantly put it on. Hermione turned to look at him, her grin slowly fading. She was more than unhappy to be back in London, but she knew she owed it to Ron. He had made so many life changes to please her; the least she could do was offer her husband support. The owl had come as a complete surprise. Arthur Weasley had been appointed the Minister of Magic and he wanted Ron to return to England and take his now vacant job. The couple sat in silence as Ron adjusted his tie. He turned towards the floor mirror in the corner of room before finally speaking.
"Did you put Hannah to bed already?" he asked his voice low. Hermione sat down at the bed and began to sort and sift through the jumble of ties.
"Twenty minutes ago," Hermione replied in a rather indistinct tone. She feared if she spoke any louder, Ron would know she was rather unhappy with him. Ron reached for his soft black dress robes and pulled them on over his trousers and dress shirt.
"Go anywhere today?" he asked. Hermione rose to her feet and sauntered over to the oak wardrobe.
"Yes, I had to get her out of the house, she loved the fresh air," Hermione said as she placed the ties in the dresser. Ron ran a hand through his hair before finally turning away from the mirror. He quickly walked over towards the bed and retrieved his wand from the end table. Hermione could sense the tension between them, but chose to remain silent. Things between them were often tense. The move back to Britain had merely increased it.
"My family is looking forward to seeing her again. Mum invited us to dinner. I told her we'd be around next Saturday night. Alright?" Ron asked. Hermione ran a hand through her much shorter dirty blonde locks as she noticed Ron neglected to question where she had went. She bit her lip as Ron began to brush off his clothes. She knew him like the back of his hand. After brushing off his clothes, he would wander over to her and kiss her forehead mindlessly. After that, she'd follow him into Hannah's room, and he'd kiss her goodbye too. He'd ask Hermione to wish him luck, and then he'd dissaparate. She had to get it out while she still had the nerve. She could no longer feign that moving back to London was the greatest thing that could happen to her. The time had begun to move much slower, and each second felt worse than the prior.
She almost felt resentful towards Arthur Weasley for hand selecting his youngest son to take his former position as Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts department. She had adored living in Greece. She had been able to take her mind off her problems and improve her own faults. She spent more time with Hannah, yet still taking the time out to study her Greek while in the process tutoring Ron in the language. Then she enjoyed the hours she had gotten to spend in complete peace with herself. Her mind had finally ceased to think disturbing, regretful thoughts. Her guilt had stopped eating away at her, and she no longer contemplated if her love for Ron was real. Greece had helped her paint a pristine picture of a family, her family. Now here she was, back in Britain. It was something about being home again that made each and everyone one of her demons return. She had been living her fake-whitewashed life for so long, she was starting to accept it as reality. Now being back around the people who knew her best, she felt she could no longer pretend.
"Ron," Hermione said suddenly, her lips moving faster than her mind. Ron looked up at her, but remained silent.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" she asked softly. Ron stared at her as a strange expression washed over his face.
"Eat dinner with my family?" he asked quizzically, he quickly replaced his vague expression with one of bafflement. Hermione could see right through it, something else was on her husband's mind.
"No," she muttered. "Moving back to Britain and taking this job. Do you really want it?" Hermione asked, she could feel her knees slightly go weak, causing her to lean up against the wardrobe for support. Ron who had begun to make his way towards her instantly froze in his tracks.
"Of course I'm sure," Ron replied, his voice sounding rather forced. Hermione continue to stare into Ron's wide eyes. "I mean," he continued. "We couldn't live like that forever."
"Like what," Hermione said sharply. She knew that Ron was making far less money than what he called sufficient working as a Defense Against The Dark Arts teacher at the Greek wizarding school, Arkaios.
"You know what I mean," Ron replied curtly. He continued towards the door. Hermione quickly followed him as Ron walked down the hallway and into Hannah's dark nursery. He quietly approached the crib, and let out a small sigh. Hermione quickly followed suit, placing her chin upon the cedar railing of the crib. She could feel her heart slightly warm as she looked down at her sleeping child.
"This is hard for me too," Ron said suddenly, the tone of his voice suddenly changing. He reached down into the crib and ran his hand through Hannah's growing bright blonde hair. Hermione bit her lip, as much as she hated to admit it, she hated moments such as these. She would often find herself in a strange sense of panic whenever Ron would look down at Hannah. His eyes would widen in love, and he'd often whisper, "That's my girl." Each word would send a dagger through Hermione's heart whenever he said it, for she knew the truth.
"I know it's why we both left, Hermione," Ron whispered snapping Hermione out of her short-term daze. "I miss him too," he muttered again. She stared down at Hannah in a light pink shirt and diaper. Her child was her world, and a major reason why she had persuaded Ron in taking the job in Greece. She knew she was running from dark things in her past, things darker and deeper than missing Harry. His death was merely the tip of the iceberg. She knew Hannah's appearance alone was cause for speculation. She never wanted to return to Britain, but now she had to return. Not just return, but to live her new live to the fullest and at least accept the truth about her daughter. Hermione swallowed the rising lump in her throat. She wanted to say so much to Ron, yet nothing would come out. She could hardly bear to look at him, for she knew she had betrayed him. Realizing that she wasn't going to answer, Ron quickly leant down and kissed the sleeping toddler's forehead.
Hermione remained almost frozen in her spot as Ron walked towards the door. She cleared her throat causing Ron to turn around. "I hope you get the job," she said, flashing him a small forced grin. Ron returned it with a genuine smile. Hermione loved his grin. It was wide enough to make her forget all her troubles. That smile had gotten her through the roughest of times.
"I should be back before midnight," Ron said quickly before giving Hermione a small wave and disappearing with a loud pop. As soon as Ron was gone, the curly haired witch sauntered over to the corner and sat down in her comfortable black leather chair. The room was in a complete state of disarray. Boxes upon boxes of things had remained unpacked; Hermione had been too preoccupied to unpack them, even by magical means.
Hermione could feel her mind pause. What was she doing? Playing house with her best friend, fighting over petty things. She almost felt as if she was in an alternate universe. She had been Mrs. Hermione Jane Weasley for two years now. At first, she was burdened down with guilt. She would have haunting dreams reliving each moment she had spent with Draco. Draco Malfoy, his name caused every muscle in her body to stiffen. She had been thinking about him constantly since the day she had last saw him.
As much as she hated to admit it, she had made a grave mistake. She had trusted Draco Malfoy. Her heart had been rubbed raw from Harry's death. The first night she was with Draco, she could recall as one of the most mixed moments of her life. She felt a strange mixture of pure elation and then one of pure horror. She felt she was betraying Harry, but at the same time doing herself a favor.
She had let him in, and he took advantage of her. If there was one thing a man like Draco was good at, it was getting what he wanted. With a sole sad face, or one well-placed kiss, he'd get her to overshadow her own senses. He'd get her to do something stupid. He'd get her. He was conniving, yet she kept coming back for more.
Something about him, kept her coming back. He contained a somewhat inviting yet mysterious factor about him. She knew what she was doing was wrong. She knew a man like Draco Malfoy, a socialite, would never ever wed her. Her inner conscience was telling her to do right, and Draco would manipulate her into doing wrong.
It ended with a blinded moment of passion and three well placed words . Just like that, it was over, it was done. Hermione closed her eyes as memories of the end paraded her aching soul, clear as day.
May 2007Hermione politely folded her napkin across her lap as the fine haired waiter set their bowls before them with a fine flick of his wand. She looked down at the brown gooey mess upon her plate and grimaced. She glanced up at a frowning Draco who had already begun to eat it quietly.
Hermione bit her lip as she picked up one of the several spoons and hesitantly scooped the bubbling chunky liquid into her mouth. She had experienced French cuisine, but nothing as daring as snails. She could feel her face contort into a grimace as Draco looked up at her unblinkingly.
"You have to have a more eclectic palette to tolerate it," he commented, his voice slightly low. Hermione hid her grimace and continued to slurp up the escargot. This was the first time Draco had ever actually taken her out. She didn't want to spoil the outing by complaining about the food.
"So," Hermione muttered trying to spark up a conversation. Draco had been acting unusually strange for most of the evening. Maybe he was surprised at himself for even daring to take her out. Hermione looked up at Draco in his fine dress robes. What was she doing? Why did she continue to let her heart believe that something with Draco would ever work out? She of all people knew that life was not simple, yet in the process it was all too cruel. Life had been cruel enough to take away one of the most important people in her life away from her. How could it ever repent itself? How could it let her have someone as handsome, charming, intelligent, and genuine as Draco? Life had a way of punishing her. Hermione stared at Draco as he ate. She hated herself for processing an inkling of emotion for him. What was it? It surely couldn't be love. Life was too cruel to let her love again.
"It's really nice here," Hermione said quickly in a blind attempt to get Draco talking. She couldn't figure out why he was so quiet, it was his idea to visit Paris.
"I know, Parvati and I used to come here often," he murmured. The curly haired witch could feel her heart slightly sink. She had been involved with him for nearly three months, and he still had not told Parvati about his new relationship. Hermione took a quick sip of her wine before frustratingly taking another large slurp of the gooey brown mess.
"That's a great way to make a woman feel good about herself," Hermione said trying to mask the frustration in her voice. "Denying that you are seeing her, then taking her to the same restaurants you went with your ex-girlfriend. Wow, I feel really special, Draco."
Draco's bleak expression did not change. Hermione quickly looked away from him, fighting the familiar urge to smack him. The incident where Draco denied their relationship numerous times at a party still stood fresh in her mind. Deep within, she knew life would never let her have Draco. So why was she even bothering to become upset? Was her anger a sign of deeper feelings for him?
"You don't know how hard it is to be me, Granger," he snapped back at her. Hermione rolled her eyes avoiding his wide stone-eyed gaze. She was beginning to feel remarkably foolish. She could feel a bout of nausea washing over her. She figured her newfound weak stomach was due to the stress Draco caused her. He would constantly do and say things to push her buttons, but with a mere look or kiss, her anger would be washed away. His power over her was undeniable, and she couldn't control herself when in his presence. It led to a vicious cycle, which often led to the same intense resolution.
"Act like an ungrateful pompous ass, I think I can do that," Hermione snapped rather scathingly. Hermione looked up at Draco as he too rolled his eyes. She knew exactly what would happen next. He would return her insult with an equally derisive slur. They'd quarrel for a few minutes. In the worst of circumstances, he'd disapparate and not apologize for a few hours. However, he always did return. They'd make up in a fit of passion, and then they'd fight again and initiate the cycle once more. Hermione was in no mood to bother with him, and the longer she sat before him, the more nauseated she began to feel. Hermione angrily ripped her napkin off her lap and threw it on the table.
"I'm going to the lavatory," she said hastily. Hermione didn't bother to look back as she stormed past several dining couples that were laughing joyously and talking in French. Hermione was about to round another corner towards the lavatories when she collided with someone, sending her to the ground. Hermione groaned in pain, she felt almost as if she had collided with a brick wall. Her world seemed to be spinning around her as the stranger offered her a hand. She hesitantly took it and rose to her feet brushing off her black satin dress in the process. Hermione could feel her heart clench as the tall redheaded stranger came into focus. It was Ron.
"Well look who it is," he said jovially before grinning at her. Hermione could feel her face flush in a mixture of embarrassment and shame. Why was it she always had to run into people she was desperately trying to avoid? She knew she had been dodging him for the past few weeks. He was the sole person who knew every little thing about her. She was afraid if she saw or spoke to Ron, he'd figure out the new man in her life instantly. He'd see the change it he had sparked in her. He'd notice it wasn't the real her. Hermione nervously ran a hand through her hair, trying to figure out what to say to him. She found it slightly ironic not to have a single word to say to someone after years of friendship
"What are you doing here in Paris?" Ron inquired, beating her to the punch, as he casually leaned against the wall. Ron was dressed impeccably in soft royal blue dress robes. His normally unruly fire red hair had been brushed and well tamed. He clearly was there for a reason.
"Business," Hermione replied hastily.
"I figured that when I saw Malfoy out there," Ron said rather bleakly, motioning towards Draco looking quite morose on the other side of the restaurant.
"So," Ron said slowly, one hand still placed firmly against the wall. Hermione hesitantly brushed off her dress; she knew what was coming next. "I've been owling you like mad, still haven't gotten a reply. I was afraid you had forgotten how to use a quill," he said quite indignantly. Hermione could feel a knot of guilt mixed in with her mild nausea slowly bubble up, but she quickly swallowed it.
"I've just been busy," Hermione replied after regaining her composure. Ron stared at her; his eyes seemed to be searching her soul for some sort of reason why she had been avoiding him. Hermione could feel her eyes fall to the floor as she struggled to keep her expression blank as she began to feel queasy again. She couldn't stand to be in Ron's presence. Everytime she looked up at him, all she could think of was Harry. Something had changed about Ron when Harry died, and Hermione just could not put her finger on it. Sometimes she wondered if perhaps, he had remained the same and she was the one who had changed.
"Hermione, you all right?" Ron inquired, his voice taking on a concerned tone. Hermione could feel another surge of nausea but she quickly swallowed it.
"I'm fine," she snapped. She wanted nothing more than for Ron to walk away. She could feel his eyes continue to explore every inch of her. She self consciously brought her hand around the diamond necklace Draco had bought her. Ron's eyes seemed to widen as his eyes landed on it. His attention quickly returned to Draco who was now angrily snapping his napkin across his lap. He flashed Hermione a weary gaze before glancing back at a table of vital looking wizards, one of which Hermione recognized as Arthur Weasley.
"Let me guess, that necklace is business too?" Ron asked suddenly. Hermione could feel her face redden and her mind stall. He flashed her a somewhat complacent look before running a hand down her exposed arm. His mere touch caused her to jump back in surprise. There was nothing remotely similar between his sweet, warm touch and Draco's rough yet enticing one.
"Well, I should be off," Ron muttered.
Ron quickly turned off his heel and sauntered off. "Nice seeing you, Hermione," he mumbled from over his shoulder.
"Nice seeing you too," Hermione whispered after Ron was long gone. It was then when a strange feeling of pure horror finally registered deep within her soul. She had been denying who she was, just to be with Draco. She was pushing away people she loved most just so she could have him. She had willingly given up a lifetime's worth of friendship for a few moments of passion.
Feeling disgusted with herself, Hermione quickly made her way towards her destination. She muttered to herself while watching the remerged contents of her dinner spinning around the commode and out of sight. However, the sickening feeling had remained. What had she done? How had she gotten there? Hermione rose to her feet, her knees wobbly and stormed out of the lavatory.
"We're leaving," Hermione commanded moodily, grabbing a glowering Draco by the hand and out of the restaurant. She had to get out of there to clear her head and answer the most important question of all. What was she doing? If she had turned back, she would have seen Ron's wide eyes of concern, thinking the exact same thing.
She closed her eyes as she felt Draco's hand closed around hers. The couple lay in complete silence on the far ends of Hermione's large oak framed bed. Everything in the room felt still aside from the steady rising and falling of their chests. Their hands were the only bridge between them.
Hermione stared at the ceiling vacantly, her mind devoid of all thoughts. The strange feeling in the pit of her stomach had returned. No matter what she could do, the image of Ron's probing eyes couldn't escape her.
Draco broke the stiff silence between them by letting out a sigh and whispering, "I'm sorry."
The apology slightly caught Hermione off guard, but Ron's image remained. She opened her mouth, but nothing but a small croak was able to escape.
"It's just that it's hard, Granger," he said gently, his voice barely above a whisper. Hard, Hermione thought bitterly, was an understatement. She remained silent for Draco often used this excuse to explain his wrongdoing. She was beginning to think it was merely apart of his act. However, something was different in his voice. There was something subtle but definitely something different. Hermione could feel her lips move, but her voice once again failed to respond. All she could think about was Ron.
Not once in nearly four months had Hermione stopped to think about how her new absence would affect Ron. She had been attempting to shield herself from him. She was too afraid to let down her guard and let Ron in again. The day of Harry's funeral was the closest the two friends had ever been on a mental level. Having Harry close to her, it was something she was used to. It was something she always longed for. Having Ron close to her, now that was something entirely different. It was almost too invasive. With Harry, she could put herself and her emotions out there and Harry would slowly respond. Yet, he would rarely let her in. At times, she'd let it get to her, but it created a strange invisible barrier between them. A barrier that was often comfortable.
However, with Ron she could feel Ron reaching out for her constantly. He'd put himself out there. There was no safety barrier to distance herself from him. He was persistent when it came to being emotionally intimate with her. Hermione was unsure if she could do the same.
Then there was Draco. With Draco, the barrier between the two of them was so thick it was nearly tangible. Hermione had learned from her relationship with Harry that a relationship could never work with someone always putting something on the table and the other constantly refusing to accept it. Not accepting the truth and actually accepting Harry's negative feelings about her job eventually led to Harry's accident. She wanted Draco to be open with her desperately, but instead of putting things out on the table, he'd add another brick to the wall between them. That different tone in his voice seemed to have started it all. "My parents always held me up to this gold standard."
"As far back as I can remember, all I ever heard from them was being pure," Draco whispered. Hermione could feel herself slightly lean in closer to him. "It was more pure blood with my father, which of course I gobbled up because I admired him."
"But with my mother," Draco's voice faltered as he brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. His touch was rough that night. "She was the one who always wanted the Malfoy name to be pure. She loved the opulence. She loved the feeling of being able to have whatever she cared for. It was nice for her to have people around her green with envy because she was living the life."
Draco's words did not seem to register with Hermione until he began to gently retrace the contours of her face. She could feel goose bumps erupt over her entire body and her stomach nauseatingly churn as he drew closer. She wanted to resist the temptation for she felt her life beginning to spin out of control. Whenever she was with Draco, she'd lose all logic. Hermione just couldn't afford to not use her senses, for what little remained in her life was in jeopardy.
"Ever since my father was sent to Azkaban, she started to stress the fact that I need to help maintain a positive image around the Malfoys." Hermione could feel all the air in her lungs escape at her lover's words. It all made sense, Draco's strange behavior, his hesitance to introduce her to the public as his girlfriend. He felt she was bad for his public image.
Hermione could feel her insides began to bubble in anger, but her outer extremities remained frozen. Draco had now sat up in her bed and began to remove his robes. She knew what he expected. She knew what it was that he wanted. However the more she thought about his confession, the more furious she became. He was acting as if he hadn't said anything at all, as if Hermione was only a mere plaything.
"So that's it, Draco?" Hermione said. She noticed her voice sounded remarkably sweet, the exact opposite of what she was feeling. Draco, who had already removed his dress robes leaving him in a pair of dress trousers and a crisp white-collar shirt, stared at her in surprise.
"So what's it?" he asked quizzically, straddling her in the process. Hermione rolled her eyes in disgust. She was beginning to feel as if Draco hadn't even realized what he had just said.
"Your apology for treating me like complete scum for a month?" she grumbled. She could feel Draco's body slightly stiffen before he relaxed into her.
"You know that's not what I meant," he whispered before casually pushing up the worn wool of her sweater. He dismissively began to brush his lips against the skin of her abdomen. Hermione could feel her body stiffen again as she grabbed Draco by the collar. He looked up at her in surprise before resting his chin on her stomach, a slightly aggravated look on his face.
"Well then, tell me what you meant without telling me a cock-and-bull story of your difficult childhood," Hermione snapped scornfully. He remained silent. She propped herself up onto her elbows so she could look down at him. She noticed a strange glimmer in his eyes as his irked expression slowly melted into one of mild anger.
"Is anything ever fucking enough for you, Hermione?" he snapped irritably. She bit her lip as she fought the ever-rising fury from within. She knew she had angered him for he only addressed her by Hermione when he was irate and he rarely ever swore.
"You don't have to act like a git, Draco," Hermione retorted. Draco swiftly rose and turned to face her. "Why can't we just have a discussion like normal adults?"
"Why?" Draco repeated, the tone of his voice steadily rising. "Why? Why do you always have to be so dreary? Maybe I don't spend time with you just to hear you constantly nag me about every little bloody thing."
Hermione could feel all her logic go out the door at his comment. She flung her sweater down over her exposed stomach before speaking. "Then why do you spend time with me if all I do is nag you?"
Draco's normally pale face flushed a vivid shade of scarlet. "I spend time with you because I really like you! Why don't you bloody understand that I'm doing the best I can? Nothing is never good enough for you!" he shouted. Hermione paused slightly as Draco's words sunk in. He had never uttered his feelings to her before. However, she didn't know how to take it for he often said things in the heat of anger just to arrive at the end of the argument quicker.
"Well if you like me as much as you claim you do, why is it so hard for you to tell yourself and everyone that you're seeing me?" Hermione shouted back, she could hardly make out Draco's image through her tears of frustration and rage. She was beginning to feel an intense loathing towards herself and that sickening yet pleasing feeling he gave her. The way his touch would make her heart skip a beat. An ugly force kept her coming back to him. All he ever did to her was hurt, why couldn't she just save herself and let go? Draco suddenly jumped to his feet and angrily grabbed his robes from off the floor.
"Because it's fucking complicated! You're not an heir to a fortune! People don't expect a bloody thing from you! You don't have your mother breathing down your neck and telling you whom to marry! Do you understand what I'm jeopardizing to be with you? If you can't bloody accept the fact that I'm trying so hard to change, than maybe this is all a bad fucking idea," Draco shouted.
Before Hermione could even catch herself, she felt a strange jab of pain in her stomach. It was if a strange inner voice took control over her. "You can't leave me," Hermione whispered, the words slipping like venom from her lips. Hermione winced as she realized what she said, but her upper mind was no longer in control. The inner force continued to overcome her as she uttered more words that are poisonous. "I need you right now…" her voice faltered as she struggled to stop herself but she couldn't. "I love you."
A blank expression overcame Draco's visage as he swiftly turned away from her. It was as if his fury was a raging fire; her words had quickly doused his flames. His eyes quickly averted to the moving picture of Harry, Ron, and her on her wardrobe. A growl escaped his lips as he snatched it up, a severe fury resonating in his steel gray eyes. He looked up at her and flashed her an equally scathing glare. "No you don't," he muttered, his words solid and heavy hitting. His eyes locked her in. Hermione felt like she suddenly forgotten how to speak. She struggled to swallow the lump in her throat as Draco continued to glare at the moving photograph. She clutched on to the sheets for dear life as he turned the frame around to face her. Hermione immediately turned away; she had been avoiding the photograph for months, for it caused her to long for her old life too badly.
Draco slowly sauntered over to the bed and sat down on the edge. "Come here," he muttered under his breath. His voice was still solid and stern. Hermione did not dare to ignore him. She slowly released the massed jumble of bed linens and crawled slowly on all fours towards the edge of the bed. She looked up at him, trying to desperately scan his face for any sign of emotion, but his face was still blank as he forced the frame into her hands. Hermione took it with a tremulous hand but still could not bear to glance down at it.
"You may not understand this, but I want you to look at that picture and listen to me, Granger," Draco admonished. Hermione hesitated momentarily before finally glancing down at the picture. She could feel her heart jump into her throat as she stared down at her smiling and waving likeness. The three of them couldn't have been a day over sixteen. They all had their arms around each other and their heads back in laughter. Hermione could feel herself suppress a smile as she glanced at Ron who had a carefree aura about him. Harry stood in between her and Ron. Tears stung her eyes as the frozen bright emerald eyes looked straight ahead and waved happily. He was completely unaware of their future love and his mundane death. Hermione sighed as the tears begin to pour freely down her cheeks. She almost had forgotten whom it was she truly loved. She realized the mist of grief and lust was blinding her and she had denied herself the well-deserved privilege of moving on.
"I know I may not be making very much sense to you right now, but there's a reason for this. There is a reason for everything in life. There's even a reason in death," Draco's voice faltered as Hermione turned to look at him, small sobs beginning to overcome her. His eyes fell from her as he continued, "I took you out tonight to Paris tonight to break this off."
Draco's words were like a slap to a face as everything began to register with her. Hermione continue to cry, but for what reason she remained unsure of. Draco seemed to have taken her silence as permission to explain himself.
"I'm just walking around in life with this feeling that everything is rushing past me. I mean, I'm already twenty-seven years old, and what do I have to show for my life? Of course, there's my job at the Prophet. A job where everyone pretends to like me because they don't want to be fired. Then there's that superficial roller coaster of a relationship that I just can't end. Of course, there's my father in prison. Then there's my mother living in the past, because she knows there is no future for her. You don't deserve to be dragged into this…" his voice faltered. 'This thing, this monster, I call my life. " Draco fell silent as Hermione continued to cry. The more he said, the harder she cried, rendering her incapable of speech.
"Hermione, I need you to listen to me and listen to me hard," Draco whispered as he placed two trembling hands on her sopping wet cheeks. Hermione looked up into those deep gray pools. She felt a temporary deep resentment towards him and those eyes at that exact moment. All they ever seemed to cause was trouble. All Draco Malfoy did to her was hurt her. Hermione bit her lip as Draco drew his face closer to hers. The strange voice that had taken over Hermione only seconds earlier appeared to take over Draco when he spoke.
"I'm not him," he said in a harsh whisper. His words were a dagger to her heart. He had said what her heart had been denying ever since Draco and her shared their first kiss. Harry was gone and Draco could never live up to him for he just wasn't Harry. Draco pulled her into a slightly stiff embrace. Hermione was sure it was surely their last. A solitary tear rolled down her cheek. He brushed his lips across her flushed cheeks, much like he did on their first night together, stopping the tear from falling.
As quickly as it began, her relationship, if you could even call it that, with Draco Malfoy was over. However, she was ignorant enough to believe that there wouldn't be any repercussions. One chapter in her life was over, and another was soon to begin.
June 2009Hannah's screams jarred Hermione out of her daze. She quickly rose to her feet and peered into the crib where a crying Hannah lay. Hermione scooped the scarlet-faced blonde haired child into her arms before turning back to the rocking chair in the corner.
The child's sob's quieted then ceased as Hermione rocked her rhythmically back and forth. Her thoughts returned to her memory of her last night with Draco. Looking back on it, she always had regretted that it took her so long to realize Draco's intentions. If she had figured out his plans, she would have saved herself a world of hurt and frustration. Most importantly, she wouldn't have made her biggest mistake. She wouldn't have lied to and manipulated Ron.
However, Hermione knew she did what she had to do. She had survival on the mind, and she was afraid. Fear was an element in life, along with lust and grief that could drive a soul to anything. Nevertheless, when it finally dawned on her the consequences of her misgivings, it would all be too late.
Author's Note
Hi readers!
Sorry it has taken me so long to update but I've been writing very slowly, brainstorming on a novel (Squeals in excitement), summer reading for school, vacationing, working, cleaning, and all that mess. I understand that the waits are irritating but being that this mere chapter (It's fairly short in my terms) took me a MONTH to write, I'm afraid to put a length to how long it will take me to write Chapter Four. I'll play it by ear and hopefully I will have this up in a much shorter amount of time. Thank you for reading!
Alisha