Author's Note: I feel like I should put some sort of warning at the beginning of this chapter, even though I have rated it appropriately, as this is the most sexually explicit chapter of this story. Well, my saying that is a warning, of sorts. Also, there may be mentions/implications of other ships, but this is strictly a Draco/Hermione story and I plan on keeping it that way. Oh, and my little (0)'s are just spacers, as nothing else seems to work anymore. Other than that, all I can say about this chapter is to hang tight. This ride's getting a little bumpy. Hope everyone's having a good summer! --Anya, xoxo
Chapter Thirteen
Days Full of Drama, Nights Full of Sorrow
The following night in the library, Hermione was startled out of her studious daze by male hands hugging her around her shoulders, but for once they weren't Draco's; they were Harry's.
"What are you doing here?" she asked quietly, glad to see him, as always.
He, on the other hand, didn't look quite as pleased, but for some reason Hermione didn't think it had anything to do with her. "I did come here to study, being as that's what you usually do in a library, unless I'm wrong. But just as I sat down with my book, I saw Cho and Roger Davies—can you believe she's with him again—going at it like two...I don't even know what's! Anyway, after seeing that, I couldn't concentrate anymore."
Hermione took his hand, rubbing his knuckles with her thumb. "I'm so sorry you had to see that," she said sympathetically. "So it's really over between you and her?"
"It's been over," Harry sighed. "Fucking Christmas ruined everything."
She looked at him concernedly. She didn't want to push him into telling her anything he wasn't comfortable with, and yet... "Harry, are you ever going to tell me what happened?"
He sighed again. "I guess it doesn't matter now," he said sadly. "If you really want to know, I suppose I could—"
"Only if you want to," she said quickly.
"Well actually, it couldn't hurt," he said thoughtfully, considering.
She smiled a tiny smile. "Let's go somewhere more comfortable, then," she said softly. Taking his hand, she led him to an area of the library even more concealed and secluded than where she normally studied. Hardly anyone ever came back here, which was odd, considering it was the only part of the library with couches and armchairs comfortable enough to rival those in the Gryffindor common room. He sat down first, and motioned for her to join him on the couch.
"Thank you," she said, automatically curling up next to him. The warmth and familiarity of Harry's arm as it snaked around her shoulders was so comforting; she snuggled in closer.
He looked down at her, a serious expression on his striking face. "I haven't even told Ron yet. About…what I'm about to tell you, that is."
"I'm flattered," she said sincerely, tilting her head to get a better look at him. Harry. Her Harry.
She wanted to love him so much, to save herself the pain that she would inevitably someday have to go through from involving herself with Draco, wonderful as he'd been lately, but somehow she couldn't. She did love Harry, but he didn't fill her with the same excitement and passion as Draco did, even when he was being an insufferable twot. And she would always feel guilty, like she had cheated him, like he was second best, if the only reason she loved him was because she was afraid that Draco would hurt her. Harry didn't deserve that.
When he didn't say anything, she prompted, "So, this has to do with Christmas."
"Yes," Harry said tentatively.
"And why you and Cho stopped ogling each other when you thought no one else was looking?" Hermione added. "Which does make sense, considering you're not together anymore."
"Perhaps it pertains to that just a little…"
"And why you don't stalk each other anymore, and why every time either of you gets so much as a glimpse of the other you both look like you want to start crying and vomiting simultaneously?" she pressed.
"How romantic, Hermione," he said dryly. He looked at her questioningly. "You really notice all that?"
"I notice everything," she said in a soft voice, and for some reason those simple words caused Harry to frown in thought. "Now please, proceed."
"Well, to make a long story short," Harry began rather unsurely, "Spending two weeks entirely inseparably with Cho turned out not to be the best idea. We, er, made some advances in our relationship, which in retrospect I think may have been done too much out of the heat of the moment and less out of—"
"Did you do what I think you're telling me you did?" Hermione asked, eyes wide. He nodded apprehensively, raking a nervous hand through his hair in that way that used to drive her absolutely wild when they were first years (it was a short-lived crush, but a crush nonetheless), and suddenly she felt a little queasy. She pushed the feeling down and mustered up enough voice to squeak out, "Go on."
"Well, after the fact, we started arguing a lot," Harry continued, "and the arguments never lasted longer than a few minutes but it was just the constant bickering that drove me and her both crazy…kind of like how Percy and Fred and George are, do you know what I mean? So anyway, in the heat of one really bad row Cho shouted, out of nowhere, I might add, 'You know what, Harry James Potter? I LOVE YOU!' and then turned really red."
Now Hermione felt really queasy. "Did you…say it back?" she asked in a small voice.
"Doubtlessly my telling you all of this will end up being some horrible mistake," Harry sighed glumly. "But that's what's been the issue. I couldn't. I wanted to, I think…but my mouth was not producing any sound. She kept looking at me really expectantly and then finally she burst into tears and stormed out of the room. We've since talked it over as much as we could, and we've been trying, but a couple weeks ago she told me she couldn't do it anymore and has obviously since then found solace in Roger Davies. Again. There was all that, and plus, her entire family hated me. It was almost worse than that week with Aunt Marge right before third year, because it was two weeks and there were fifteen of them. I didn't have a moment's peace."
"Oh, Harry," she sighed, "I'm so sorry to hear that." She reached up and hugged her oldest, dearest friend around the neck for what seemed like an eternity. "Listen, I know it hurts now, but it isn't the end of the world. It feels like it…I know it feels like it. But you've been so brave, and in time this too shall pass. Something better will definitely come along; you're one of the best people I know and you deserve to be happy in every way."
The corners of his mouth twitched up. "Thanks, Hermione," he said, hugging her back. "It means a lot to hear you say that."
"I mean it all," she whispered. "I wish there was some way I could help you."
He shrugged. "Just you being here is enough. And besides," he added wryly, "Think of everything I've had to go through in my life, and I'm falling apart over a girl? I just need a little perspective, is all."
"Matters of the heart are always different," she said, her eyes wide. "And they always hurt more."
Harry's face darkened. "More than my parents being killed? More than my godfather—the only family I had left—being murdered right in front of me? I feel horrible that I'm taking a breakup from a teenage relationship so badly."
For once, Hermione didn't know what to say. "Sirius wasn't the only family you had left," she said slowly, trying not to cry at the sound of Sirius's name—she had loved him, too. "You still have me, and Ron, and Hagrid, and all the Weasleys…there will always be people watching out for you, Harry, and being there fore you, and loving you—that's family."
"That's also not the point," Harry sighed. "No offense, but the fact that I do have other people in my life who care about me—which I knew already, Hermione—isn't quite what the doctor ordered to make me feel any better about this."
"I'm trying, Harry," she said, squeezing his hand reassuringly.
His face softened as he looked at her. He could never be angry with Hermione. "I know," he said quietly. "Thank you for that."
"Thank you for finally telling me," she replied. "I know it hurts, but don't you feel better just getting it off your chest?"
"Yeah," he said, trying a smile. He pulled her into an embrace, leaving both of them feeling more comfortable and safe than ever. After a moment, he added, "Don't…don't tell anyone, okay? If anyone else ever finds out, I want to be the one to tell them about it."
"I'd never tell," she said vehemently, pulling away from him to look him straight in the eyes. With a sigh, she went on, "Merlin knows I'm good at keeping secrets."
(0)
"I saw you with Potter in the library yesterday," Draco said without preamble, coming into step with Hermione after Advanced Transfiguration the next day.
Hermione glanced at him with an eyebrow raised. He'd sounded a little too jealous for her liking. "Why do you have a problem with this?" she asked cautiously.
He rolled his eyes. "I don't," he said, sounding no older than eight. "I just—"
"Good," she said firmly. "Because Harry is my best friend and I won't be having you or anyone else trying to tell me I can't be with him."
They walked on in silence, neither one wanting to apologize for being short with the other.
"So," Hermione said finally, "tomorrow is Saturday. Moaning Myrtle day."
Draco looked confused for a moment. "Oh, yes. So it is."
She stopped walking and looked at him squarely. "You are still planning on fulfilling your end of the bargain, aren't you? Because if you don't—"
He silenced her with a long finger to her lips. "I know," he said, suddenly sounding very seductive. Hermione wanted to bite his finger, but not in a temptress sort of way. She absolutely hated it when he turned on a dime like this. "Are you still planning on fulfilling your end of the bargain? You do remember you promised me a…surprise. Something you said I'm sure to love."
She sighed. "I guess that all depends on how tomorrow goes, now doesn't it?"
He cocked his head to one side. "Are you mad at me?" he murmured, stroking her cheek.
"No," she protested, moving away from his gentle hand. She wasn't, either, it was just with her uncertainty about love from the other day (which she was still thinking about) and now everything going on with Harry, she was admittedly a bit preoccupied. "I just have a lot on my mind, is all."
"Anything I can do to help?"
If they had been anywhere but a public Hogwarts corridor, Hermione was sure he would have been snogging her neck or something of that sort.
A small smile brushed her lips. The day was still young, and she could do with a distraction. "Actually," she said softly, "I do believe there might be. Come with me, and I'll show you exactly what needs to be fixed."
Hermione led him to the nearest broom closet she could find and didn't hesitate even slightly when he began kissing her fervently, starting off heavier than they ever had before. After a quick but effective Security Charm, Draco picked her up and plopped her down onto a waist-height cabinet, using his hands on her middle as an excuse to shed her of her blouse.
Within minutes, both of them were completely undressed, save for Draco's socks (he didn't want his feet touching the broom closet floor), taking every sort of advantage of each others' naked bodies. Now that Hermione had a little practice with these sorts of things, on both ends of the spectrum, she and Draco were able to experience pleasures even greater than those they had that time in the bath, which was something she didn't even know was possible.
She thrust her arms around him and laid her head on his shoulder, panting from the orgasm he had just given her with his tongue. He looked at her, a wicked glint in his eye, and began to move his hard member toward her opening.
"Draco, stop," she whispered. When he didn't respond, she said it louder, pushing him away from her small body.
"Come on, Hermione, that's the second time you've said no," he whined.
She bit her lip, making a decision very fast. "D-don't you want your present to be special tomorrow night?" she said, knowing she sounded very unsure of herself.
Draco, however, seemed to take no note of this. "Really?" he said, smiling. "Well, then, I don't even mind that you said no. Again."
She smiled feebly and kissed him. "We should be getting back soon," she said, beginning to re-dress herself and wondering if she'd made the right decision.
If I didn't, she thought uneasily, I could tell him. Right?
(0)
"Ron, could you excuse us, please?" Hermione said when she got back to the common room. "I need to talk to Harry about something private."
"Anything you can say to Harry, you can say to me," Ron said jovially, not really paying attention as his queen was storming Harry's bishop in their chess game.
Harry, however, looked up and saw the pleading in Hermione's eyes. "Ron, I think you'd better go for a few minutes," he said, nudging his friend's elbow. "I'll talk to you later, alright?"
Ron looked hurt at first, but then seemed to decide he didn't really care. "Alright," he said, and walked off.
"What are you going to tell him?" Hermione asked somewhat nervously as they headed up to Hermione's bedroom (the only place they could get some privacy, as Lavender and Parvati were always out boy-scouting or some such). "If he asks you later, that is."
Harry ran a hand over his hair. "I don't know," he said. "I don't even know what this is about, so at least give me time to make something believable up."
Hermione nodded as they both took a seat on her bed. After a few moments of complete silence, Harry prompted, "So…what is it you needed to get rid of Ron for to tell me?"
Even with everything else going on with him, Harry still hoped Hermione was about to confess that she was in love with him. Or that she thought she'd found The One but didn't know if she could be with him because of their long history and close friendship, in which case he'd assure her that while friendship was important, love was of equal or even greater importance and so of course they could be together. But that wasn't quite what Hermione had in mind.
"Oh," she said anxiously, trying to figure out in her head how to word what she wanted to say. "Right. Well…you're good with decision-making, right Harry?"
He nodded. This was it…
"Um, I need your advice. You see, the thing is…" she took a breath and, chickening out as she felt nothing she said would sound right, said, "How should I get my hair cut when we go to Hogsmeade tomorrow? It's gotten so out of hand, you see, and I just can't deal with it anymore. I'm thinking of shaving my head."
He raised an eyebrow. "You have got to be kidding me. Hermione, you can tell me anything. Go on, I'm not going to judge you. But for what it's worth, you'd look awful with a shaved head."
She raised her lips in what was supposed to be a smile. "I do need your advice, though. I can't exactly give you all the details—I'll tell you in time, Harry, but this is not the right one—but I just want to know something. First of all, how do you know if you've made the right decision?"
Harry frowned. "If you're thinking about it so much, as you seem to be doing, then it probably isn't the right one."
She bit her lip. "Oh. Okay. So then, how would you go about telling the person who was involved in this decision that you made a mistake and it's the wrong one?"
"Will this person be upset if you tell them straight out that you made the wrong decision?"
"Probably. Especially since it's kind of personal and to this person it seems like the natural way to go. I don't want to hurt anyone, Harry."
He scratched his head, eyebrows raised, and took a big breath. If she was indeed talking about him, he didn't want to know anymore. "Of course you don't," he said comfortingly, rubbing her arm. "You're so clever, Hermione. You just have to figure out the right way to word it. I know you'll be able to do whatever it is you have to do."
"Thank you so much," she said, looking up at him with large eyes. What happened next was definitely not part of Hermione's plan, but it somehow ended up that her lips were on Harry's. She took them away when she realized what she'd done and blushed furiously. She didn't want to admit that she liked kissing Harry. She was only supposed to like kissing Draco.
Harry clenched his jaw, wanting both to slap her for teasing him like that and sweep her back into his arms, kissing and everything else until long into the night.
"I'm sorry, Harry," she whispered, unable to meet his gaze. "I don't know what made me do that."
"Don't be sorry," Harry said. "Just tell me we'll be able to do that again sometime."
Her eyes filled with tears. "I can't," she said, her voice practically inaudible. "I just can't, Harry, I'm sorry."
"Is that what your decision was about?" he asked in a low voice, moving away from her on the bed.
"No," she said, her voice cracking from her tears.
"Well…is there someone else, then?"
Hermione buried her face in her pillow, not able to say yes, but not wanting to lie anymore.
He stood up and crossed the floor to the door. "I love you, Hermione," he said. At these words, she looked up and watched him speak, as she was unable to do so herself. "You know that. But I'm not going to wait for you anymore. After I walk out of this room, we are strictly friends, unless you stop me. I mean it, though…I can't wait for you if you're never going to be ready, and now is as good a time as any to stop. So…friends, okay?"
He turned to leave, hoping and wishing so hard that Hermione would do something or say anything to make him change his mind. But she didn't, and he walked out, knowing any possibility of a romance between them was stopped at his own hand.
(0)
After she'd stopped mourning the death of a romance that never was, Hermione went to find Draco to tell him she still wasn't ready to give up what was left of her innocence.
After confirming with Blaise Zabini, whose gaze kept drifting from Hermione's face to the rise in her blouse, that Draco was not in the common room, she was able to search the rest of Hogwarts. She found him heading toward the Quidditch pitch for some solo practice.
"Draco," she called. "Draco, stop, I need to talk to you."
He turned around, looking puzzled, and ran to Hermione. "What's so important?" he asked.
She turned around. "You're busy. I'd better go."
He grabbed her arm. "Now you wait a minute," he said, "What is it you want? You didn't come find me for no reason."
She bit her lip, cracking her knuckles apprehensively. "You're right. I didn't. Well, it's about tomorrow," she began.
He raised an eyebrow. He had a feeling he knew what this was about, now, and he was disappointed, but not at all surprised. "Tomorrow? Have you changed your mind, then?"
She looked at him with beseeching eyes. "Yes," she whispered. "I just don't think I'm ready, is all. I'll still do whatever else you want me to do—"
His eyes flashed. "You aren't ready, are you." It was not a question.
"What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded. "Are you angry? It'll happen, Draco, just not tomorrow."
He took a breath before smiling. Of course he was angry—disappointed was more like it, really—but acting cross with Hermione now was not going to do any good. "It's fine," he said reassuringly. "Really." He kissed the top of her head.
She smiled a small smile. "Thank you for understanding," she said gratefully. "I'll see you tomorrow evening, alright?"
"Bye," he waved, plans formulating as to exactly how he was going to get her back. No one says no to a Malfoy.
(0)
Harry, Ron, and Hermione began the walk up to the Gryffindor common room the next night feeling very satisfied indeed from their trip to Hogsmeade. Their bellies were full and warm from butterbeer and they had bags and bags of candy from Honeyduke's and all sorts of tricks and toys from Zonko's. There had been a surprisingly small amount of tension between Harry and Hermione, as both of them just wanted to have a good time and pretty much forget about the day before.
Draco stopped the three of them in the hallway, his eyes glinting. Hermione ran a hand through her hair (which she had actually decided to cut, into a flattering yet sensible bobbed style that had surprised everyone except Harry and, seemingly, Draco) and waited for him to speak. She was actually looking forward to the night's future events, now.
"As usual, there is absolutely no use for Weasley," he said, looking bored. "But Potter and Granger, you're wanted on the first floor, but for different reasons. Potter I have no damn clue about, but Granger, you're to come with me—Professor Snape wants to see you and he has asked for me to personally escort you."
Hermione tried not to smile as she thought back on the days when she hated him. She'd have been giving him a look much like the ones Harry and Ron were giving him right now.
As soon as they got downstairs, Draco pulled Hermione into a dark corner and began kissing her as a bewildered Harry looked around for where he was needed.
"How'd it go today?" Hermione wondered, but Draco only responded that he liked her hair now that it didn't get in the way anymore and continued snogging her all over.
About five minutes later, Draco pulled back. "Come with me for a minute?" he asked, although he didn't specify where or why.
"Sure," Hermione replied, slightly taken aback by his vagueness but not seeing any reason to give it a second thought.
He took her hand and led her toward Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, but stopped when a furious looking Harry stopped them.
"I don't even know where to begin," he hissed at Hermione, and stormed away upstairs.