Author: Masqued.
Title: The Cathedral
Summary: Hermione leaves Harry's engagement party to ponder life at a Cathedral and finds an unexpected surprise.
Rating: PG-13
Author's Note: I hope this is up to expectations.
Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns all of the characters used in this story… though I truly wish it weren't so.
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"Pray that your loneliness may spur you into finding something to live for,
great enough to die for."
-Dag Hammarskjold
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"Hermione, you aren't going to stay?" Harry asked hurriedly, skirting passed the other guests that were flooding the hallway of 12 Grimmauld Place. Hermione, who at that moment was reaching to grab her coat off of a nearby hook, shook her head.
"No, Harry, there really isn't any point in me being here." Hermione shuffled under her coat nervously before tugging a violet scarf that still was clinging desperately to the hook her coat had just been on. Harry's expression melted to disappointment.
"Of course there is, Hermione. You're here to support Ginny and me. You're, to the both of us, our best friend." Hermione's eyes averted Harry's gaze as she limply pulled the zipper of her coat up.
"Yes, but I also can't put up with it Harry – and you know that." Harry's hand instinctively rose up and rested on her shoulder in comfort.
"I thought you were-"
"No, Harry, I'm not over him. And seeing him happy with Luna simply doesn't help the matter any. Of course, there is no doubt that I'm happy for them… but I still feel… empty." She paused to give her best friend a weak smile; "Besides, these party, co-worker gatherings aren't really my thing. And before I drink away my sorrows in Fire Whiskey, I think I'll get a move on." Her weak smile lingered before she completely covered her lips with her scarf. "Congratulations, Harry," came a muffled addition to her short monologue before the brunette slid between the people that continued to swarm the hallways and exited through the front door.
Stepping down into the frozen front lawn of Harry's abode, Hermione began immediately to sever her thoughts from the matter that caused her to leave the joyous occasion. Still, no matter how hard she pushed the matter away, the one boy she'd ever truly loved – now a man – continued to invade her mind. His fiery red locks, his piercing hazel eyes, and the tall, manly physique he'd obtained was implemented on her mind, refusing to erase with even the most devastating help of violent images. Seeing the lifeless body of a fellow Auror at the end of the war didn't even sting her heart the way Ron kissing Luna did.
Regretting her retreat, Hermione cast one last glance at the house brightly lit from inside, people's shadows thrown up against the windows and through the glass to the ground. She could just make out Harry leaning over to whisper something to someone she only guessed to be Ginny, and then completely turned her gaze back to the sidewalk.
It was then that she realized that she hadn't driven and dug her fingers into her pocket to snatch out her wand. Shivering in the cold air for a moment, Hermione whispered where she intended on going to, and concentrated. Soon enough, all that was left of her remains was a soft cracking noise signaling her disappearance.
Within seconds, Hermione landed in front of the one place she could always take solace; with it's tall beams, high-arched cross, and welcoming doors, the Cathedral in London offered her a peace she sometimes wished could follow her everywhere. The molding steps and broken stone statues of angels chipped and cracked, reminded her of the weather and long years the Cathedral had seen since her last visit.
Hermione's parents were Catholic – and she had always gone to mass with them before she was declared a witch; night services, of course, as her father had to work during the morning hours, and her mother would always make an early dinner, so when her father would return, they'd eat, and attend mass as a family. This particular Cathedral hadn't been where her family attended regularly, but she had attended one service for her cousin's christening. Such an occasion had happened nearly sixteen years prior to present time, and Hermione's eyes soaked in the dismay the Cathedral had been forced to endure.
One tall wooden door swung on its hinges and Hermione muttered a soft charm to right the unstable door before striding into the empty, dark church. The stain glass windows, long since having been properly cleaned, shared equal amounts of holes, shattered from angry bigots. Faces of saints, Jesus, and Mary had been smashed, and the few statues of the saints that decorated the halls were stained with spray paint and anti-Catholicism stickers and phrases. Determined to ignore the array of struggle the Cathedral had endured, Hermione ambled to the small, back room, and lit one of the long since forsaken candles, smiling as the wax took to the flame eagerly.
Turning on her heel, the brunette struggled to look around the Cathedral without shedding a tear for the damage done. Not even her magic could return the beauty of the Cathedral that had once been so eminent to her. From the dark walls came screams of the torture they'd received; the unlit chandeliers quivered under their many cobwebs; a pulpit that rested at the head of the church was split into two. Hermione's bottom lip quivered as she slid into the third to last row and simply gazed around her.
When had she missed all of the torture this Cathedral had stood through? When had her one place of complete and total peace been attacked and ruined by mongrels that were narrow-minded? She couldn't place a time or day to anything that could have possibly effected the destruction of the church and the disdain in her mood reflected on her expression as she leaned back against the pew.
Gazing around her, Hermione glanced at the statues of the saints, of Jesus, and of the Holy Virgin Mary; even they seemed to be looking onto the broken-hearted girl with pity as though their torture did not surpass hers. The melancholy appearance of the statues seemed to juxtapose the joyous resolve they were supposed to mirror, causing Hermione's thoughts to jut around distraughtly. A soft sigh emitted her lips, warm particles of her breath clinging to the cool air, producing a puff of white smoke.
"Oh, I don't know anymore," Hermione found herself muttering, leaning her arms on the pew in front of her. When had she decided to bring her problems to the One and Only God the Father?
When everyone else had left, she supposed. A bitter smile crept to her lips as she tossed the idea around in her head.
Ever since the battle with Voldemort had been fought, Hermione's friendships seemed to dwindle. Once she'd accomplished becoming an Auror, and had also aided her friends in over-coming the growing threat of the Death Eaters, she became lifeless, simply roaming around the office building for the Ministry of Magic, jumping to even the littlest of tasks; such as pranks pulled on muggles in their piping systems, or a wizard enchanting basketballs at a game just so his team would win.
Hermione's eyes twinkled briefly as she recalled moments on the battlefield when her, Harry, and Ron would band together at night, confessing their deepest secrets in an effort to ease the fright of the possibility of death awaiting them the next time they walked from their tents.
She also remained a certain blond-haired ferret that seemed to mingle aimlessly with her and her friends. Ever since he'd taken to the 'light side' and decided to join Dumbledore's Army, Draco seemed to lighten up reasonably. Of course, he insulted Harry enough, and he and Ron still got into quite a few rows, but otherwise, the entire 'arch-nemesis' ordeal seemed to cool down to innocent, friendly squabbles as ways to prove they'd grown from immature boys to mature, emotion-ignorant men.
Hermione's lips tweaked softly and she leaned back into her pew again, kicking her feet up to replace where her arms had been.
"What am I doing here," she muttered beneath her breath, the sinking feeling of loneliness growling in her stomach.
"I was just about to ask a similar question." The voice had caught Hermione off-guard, and she lurched her head around to look at who had interrupted her peace without making a noise until they had decided to, and in the process, caused her feet to slip onto the floor.
"Malfoy?" The blond let out a soft snort.
"Well, I'm glad to see you're still as bright as you were in school," Draco's signature smirk flittered over his lips as he journeyed slowly to the pew she was sitting in. A scowl, remarkably, drifted over Hermione's features as she slowly surveyed the male in front of her.
"Thank you," she whispered sharply; "What are you doing here?" Draco, having now moved into the same row, took a seat beside her, moving his eyes from her to the pulpit further ahead of him.
"I suppose I could ask the same of you," he replied, digging his hands further into his coat's pockets.
"I suppose you could, but I do recall being the first one to pose the question." Draco then chose to glance at her, waving his index finger in her face matter-of-factly.
"No, if I recall, you asked what you were doing here – not me." Hermione growled softly in anger and turned to face the pulpit again, pushing her feet back onto the pew in front of her, just as Draco had done. "Well?" He questioned softly, turning his gaze back to her.
"Well, what, Malfoy? I have no intention of telling what my reasons for being here are." Hermione, stubborn as always, refused to give Draco even the time of day.
"Really? Because I assumed you didn't even know the answer to that question." Hermione's body tensed and she continued to try her best to ignore him.
"Malfoy, what do you want from me?" Draco looked at his feet quickly, letting out a nervous breath.
"I still want to offer you a job at my company," he muttered softly, gazing at her for a moment; "We need an intelligent, street-smart, and no-nonsense witch like you to be on the staff; and I could also pay you more than the Ministry could ever offer." Hermione sighed.
"Draco, you know I can't take that job – my friends are here at the Ministry… I couldn't just leave them." Draco never removed his gaze from her as she spoke and contemplated what his reply should be. Battling a few ideas in his head, Draco Malfoy immediately decided on the most direct approach.
"What friends, Granger? I see you pushing them away day by day – and if even I notice, don't you think they do?" He paused, giving her a moment to send him a glare; "Your reasons for staying at the bloody Ministry office isn't because you don't want to desert your friends; it's because you don't want to deal with the fact that you're pushing them away in hopes that they'll eventually come after you."
"Congratulations, Malfoy," Hermione bit out in anger; "I think you may have just managed to ruin the one place I could find happiness in." There was nothing in her that denied what Draco had said, and everything in her wanted to try and plead her case of possibly trying to completely reunite with her friends; yet somehow, all she accomplished was feeling more alone and even more bitter.
Standing to her feet, Hermione tugged on the edge of her coat and, staring at the distance between the end of the row and where she stood, took to walking over the last two pews and hopped at the end, pulling her scarf over her mouth again.
"Hermione – Hermione, wait." Draco had squirmed out of the pew quickly, striding quickly to stand at her side. Just as a precaution, he took her elbow into his hand, which caused her to angrily pull it away.
"Don't touch me, Malfoy. First you come here just to bicker with me, then you offer me another stupid job, and then you have to remind me of how bloody lonely I am! You were intolerable in school, damn it, and that was enough to put me into a state of awkwardness! Must you come to me in the middle of the night, at my last place of solstice, and torment me? Especially when…" Hermione threw her hands up in the air in anger; "Why am I even bothering?" She huffed in aggravation and attempted to stride out of the Cathedral, only to have her elbow snap back in Draco's grasp again.
Mentally determined to shove him off and give him another long, angry lecture, Hermione was shocked to find his gray stormy eyes swirling with something other than hatred, annoyance, or carelessness.
"Don't you accuse me of coming here to make your life worse, Hermione." He paused, running his free hand through his hand nervously; "I didn't come here just to offer you a job. When I saw you Apparate from Potter's party, which I had hoped to catch you at in the first place, I'd hoped that you and I could simply talk and catch up," he paused again, shoveling his hair out of his eyes.
"Catch up about what, Draco? What exactly do you expect us to talk about? We were on a team for two months during the war, and that was it. Neither of us had undergone some amazing transformation, and neither of us had become too attached to the other." Hermione sighed, having long given up trying to pry her arm free. Draco's eyes flickered to the pews for a second, his hand releasing her arm in the process.
"I missed you," he muttered softly, turning his gaze back to her; "And I know what it's like to be lonely, Hermione. I know what it's like to deal with people that show nearly no affection, or people that change due to someone else – damn it, Hermione, I lived with a pair of bloody Death Eaters!" He cast a nervous glance; "But whenever you and I would just talk during the war, around the fire, after everyone else had fallen asleep… I saw something I'd never seen. I saw you with your intelligence, beauty, and wit – the parts of you I had shrugged away as a teenage boy because of mere pride." He paused; "I don't have that same pride, Hermione, and I came here to prove that to you." Sighing again, Draco's eyes lifted back to Hermione's, who still held her steady, emotionless gaze.
"Draco, I'm not sure how you want me to reply… I, well…" She sighed and rubbed her temples; "What time is it?" The change in conversation seemed abrupt and awkward, and threw Draco off guard.
"What?"
"I said, what time is it."
"I'm not daft, Hermione, I heard what you said. Why do you want to know the time?" Hermione let out a short huff.
"Because I don't have a watch, why else?" Draco felt put-off and pushed away; his outpouring of emotion had been passed over for her lack of time-wear. Reluctantly, the blond tugged at his sleeve and glanced at his watch.
"It's five-thirty." Hermione sighed and rubbed her temples again. Five-thirty? In the morning? How had she managed to waste so much time? She needed to get to work in a few hours, and she had to drain the Fire Whiskey she'd practically inhaled at Harry's house. Mumbling under her breath, Hermione seemed to escape the present predicament, leaving a very baffled Draco. Trying to catch her attention quickly, the blond let out a soft 'ahem', causing her musings aloud to stop.
"Right – sorry." There was a short, empty silence as Hermione gathered her thoughts. "Draco, similar feelings with loneliness aren't meant to be used as a median for two people to connect." She chose her next words carefully, trying to piece together her own speech; "I simply can't come to work with you – I barely have an incentive where I work now, and I don't need to blindly go to another job where my only incentive is more money." She sighed again. "I'm sorry."
Draco's lips pursed as he let out a soft sigh.
"I understand…" Hermione's fingers reached up to Draco's cheek, sending a shiver down his spine.
"Thank you, Draco. You always did manage to 'understand', when no one else did." She gave him a brief, warm smile and then shook her hand away. "I need to get going," she added hastily and turned from the speechless blond.
Draco's eyes followed Hermione's quickly moving form as she trotted down the remainder of the aisle and to the doorway without a single glance toward him. Expertly, he chewed on his bottom lip and shoved his hands into his pockets, planning his next move.
Of course, there is no better planning than no planning.
Draco, deciding that thinking it through would obviously never work in attempting to get Hermione Granger's attention, sprinted out of the Cathedral and into a thick morning fog that lingered at eye level. Growling in desperation, he shielded his eyes with his hands, glimpsing around for the bushy hair beneath a wool cap.
"Hermione!" He belted, hoping that calling her name would catch her attention. Again, he let out her name, but saw nothing in his vision. Sighing and waving his hand in front of his face as if to dismiss the fog, Draco slid down to sit on the steps, rolling his thumbs idly.
It was then that Hermione's thin frame came wandering back toward him, nose bright red from the cold and hands in her pockets. Her eyes were transfixed on his sleek face, glaring daggers in his direction.
"What?" She asked hastily. Draco immediately began to regret his decision. Still, not being one to go back on his word – especially a word to himself – Draco shot to his feet and strode to Hermione, standing a mere few inches from her face. Hermione's heart-beat quickened as she felt his warm breath sprinkle her nose. Trying to regain composure, she took in a deep breath; "Yes?"
Draco's mysterious smirk returned as he looked down to her eyes, hand idly pushing away the few strands of bushy strands of hair that remained clinging to her cheeks.
"Hermione," he sighed; "Hermione, I love you." Hermione's eyebrows arched, and she parted her lips in a moment to protest his statement, but was immediately cut off by a searing kiss, Draco's tongue hungrily diving into her warm cavern. Emotions, mingling with worry, washed over her stomach, causing butterflies to flutter from her head to her toes. The kiss was harsh, hungry, and wanting – like nothing she'd ever experienced. Ron had always been soft and chaste, and Viktor was completely shy about any form of romancing.
Having been given time to become aware of her situation, Hermione shut her eyes and clutched Draco's shoulders as his arms snaked down and around her waist. The kiss continued for a minute longer, until lock of oxygen caused the pair to break.
"What on earth was that?" Hermione gasped, her warm are mingling with cold air and thick morning fog.
"That was a kiss," came Draco's cheeky reply, his grin growing. Hermione gave him a deadpan look.
"Aren't you Captain Obvious." She sighed; "Draco… I," she took a step back from his arms, causing his heart to sink in his chest; "I've been dealing with loneliness for over six years now… and I don't know how to deal with… well, you." She spoke softly, finally returning her gaze to his eyes.
"I know, Hermione…" he stepped forward and softly pecked her lips before continuing; "That's why I want you to come work with me; let me be your incentive."
"Draco… you and I never had a relationship. You and I never talked about our feelings for one another, if there ever were any, and now we're both vulnerable and lonely." She sighed. "I just… I don't want to hurt you." Draco's hand ran up to her cheek, his thumb gently stroking the pale surface softly.
"Hermione, give me a chance. Make me your incentive. You won't hurt me." He captured her lips again, causing her uneasiness to melt into butterflies again. He gripped her waist at just the right time, as her knees gave out. Again, as they broke apart, she skirted away from him.
"Draco, I just… I don't know if this is right." Draco's heart sank again; "We've both been lonely for so long, we could be doing this simply out of want for companionship." Draco had had enough.
"Hermione, who the bloody hell do you think is going to be offering either of us companionship anytime soon? Potter's on his way to getting married to Ginny, and Weasley's marrying Loony Lovegood!" He hadn't actually gone as low as name calling for years, but the emotions stirring inside him were too much to handle; "We're fucking twenty five now, and you're clinging to something that isn't there! Get out of your fantasy world, Hermione! Wake the hell up!" Hermione's eyes held unshed tears as she stared at Draco angrily.
"Oh, get off it Draco! Is this what you wanted to really do? Come here, make me weak in the knees, and then rip my friends to shreds? Yes, I'm unhappy with how things have turned out for me, but there is something in me not ready to let go! I don't want to just throw away years of hard-work being an Auror simply because you feel like a giddy school girl!" She paused to take a deep breath. "Three years you and I were on the same team – three bloody years. And whether you knew it or not, you affected me, Draco. Ron and I had broken up a year after we started dating because he couldn't take the awkwardness between us since we'd been friends for years. He and I were shaky friends for awhile, but we were back to the way things were in no time. But then, during the war, you and I talked – more than anyone else I talked to before; meaning that the context of our conversations held so much more depth to them – more than any other conversation I'd shared with anyone else. With Ron, it was hard to keep him on a topic other than Quidditch or now Luna, and with Harry, it was either something dark and cryptic, or hardly a conversation. They were always there for a laugh – but you were there as someone I depended on." She paused; "Come to think of…" a distant look escaped her eyes as she glanced over his shoulder; "I never admitted that until now."
Draco mentally reviewed. He had affected her, he had been more to her than anything Potty or Weasel had been, and she had depended on him. A smirk traveled over his lips again.
"Don't get haughty, Malfoy. I'm not finished." She steadied her gaze again and stared directly into his eyes; "That doesn't change anything." Draco waved his hand dismissively in front of his face and continued to smirk.
"Granger, I've come to the realization that I could care less about what you have to say at this point." With that, Draco uncaringly took Hermione into his arms and kissed her with such ferocity that all she could do was stare at his calmly closed eyes and peaceful expression before reciprocating. Reaching her arms up and around his neck, Hermione completely lost everything she was going to say in protest to his kisses so far.
With a flick of his wrist, Hermione felt her body tense at being Apparated without being told and immediately broke the kiss when she appeared in a room she'd never seen.
"Where am I?" Was her question as she stepped from Draco's arms.
"My home… more specifically, my room." Hermione's eyes widened as she glared at Draco, but felt her knees become limp as he again took her into his arms and kissed her harshly. Draco hooked his arms beneath her knees and strode to his bed, laying her against the pillows.
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"Well?" Hermione turned to look at the man beside her.
"Well, what?" Draco smirked and pecked the nape of her neck with his lips.
"Still lonely?" Hermione snuggled against his body and found his lips in a searing kiss to answer his question. Draco pulled away and took Hermione's arms into his waist over the sheet that covered their unclothed bodies.
"Thank you, Draco." Hermione curled her back against Draco's chest; "For giving me something to live for." Draco pecked the back of her neck one last time before feeling Hermione fall asleep in his arms.
"Anytime."
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In Response To:
4. Name/Pen Name: prettymama
Rating(s) of the fic you want: PG13/soft R
One tone/mood you want your gift to include: loneliness
One element/theme/item you want your gift to include: morning fog
One common cliché you don't want your gift to include: Draco and Hermione being in detention together.