Warning: Use of language in this chapter.
Hermione had stayed true to her promise to Draco: after that day, the two continued their dance of avoiding each other, turning the other way when their paths crossed in the corridors, picking different tables in the library and always making sure they didn't get stuck as partners in any class projects. But after her conversation at the Burrow with George, she mentally broke that promise and stuck to his. Yet whenever she tried to get close to him, Draco backed away either physically or emotionally. After two fruitless days of trying, Hermione woke up on April 4th and had quietly accepted that there was nothing more she could do, short of setting off fireworks spelling 'I love you and I'm so sorry, but I was only trying to keep you safe because I care so flipping much.' Yeah, that might be a tad too long, and she didn't have any fireworks so...a life of misery it was.
"At least I've got you, haven't I Crookshanks?" Hermione crooned to her cat as he sat in her lap while she did the last of her packing. He meowed, which she took as agreement enough. She hoped he liked the little flat she'd rented out for her stay in London: Harry had helped her find it. Although Hogwarts had offered to rent out rooms for the students, Hermione was one of the majority who had chosen to find their own lodgings, wanting the chance to be independent and whatnot. They were of course heavily reminded that this was a learning experience and that they were still representing Hogwarts and the schools attitudes. The hefty weight of parchment Hermione was required to get through in order to stay ahead in her studies was a brutal reminder. It was so big, it had its own bag!
Not that she minded, really. It was good to keep oneself occupied.
Crookshanks leapt off her lap, having grown tired of her company and likely all her chastisement for playing with her neatly folded clothes. But she wasn't alone for long, because one ginger ball of energy was replaced by another, this one jumping up and down on her bed.
"I'm soooo excited," Ginny exclaimed, drawing out the word to it's full effect. "I literally cannot wait to get on the train."
Hermione frowned. "Try to act like you'll miss it here a little, Gin: you don't want to hurt the castle's feelings. Or mine," she added as an afterthought.
"Of course I'll miss it," the redhead said with a nonchalant wave. "But this is about growing up, being an adult, having fun. You know I've always wanted to be a Harpy."
Hermione knew. "Is Harry still coming up for the weekend to see you?" she asked.
Ginny flopped back onto Hermione's bed, grabbing a pillow and hugging it to her chest. "He is," she said on a wistful breath. "It's going to be great. I know I only just saw him, but that was...different."
She didn't need to explain. "No, that wasn't the time for making out passionately, although I'm sure Fred would have approved in the spirit of things nonetheless."
"I'm sure that's true. Need any help packing?"
Hermione shook her head. "No, that's everything. You?"
"Haven't even started. Can you help?"
Hermione tried not to roll her eyes, but failed. "That's the only reason you asked me, isn't it? You weren't genuinely going to help," she grumbled.
"Nope," Ginny said without a lick of shame.
"Fine. Hand me a suitcase."
"Yay! Oh, and by the way, Hagrid wants to say goodbye to you."
That was how she found herself in Hagrid's beloved hut an hour later, the rising sun still limning the tops of the trees in it's spring glow. A teacup bigger than a plate resting in her lap and a plate of rock cakes by her elbow, Hermione tried to bask in the feeling of safety the place cocooned her in, feeling like it was the last time, even though she knew it was irrational: it was only six weeks, and then she'd be back, politely breaking her teeth on Hagrid's cooking once again.
"Don't be sad," Hagrid said, as if he could read her thoughts. "Hogwarts will always be here for ya, even if you're not here for it."
"Thanks," she said, taking a sip of her tea. "I'm a little bit nervous," she admitted, delicately placing her saucer on the worn table.
"Why?" he asked. "You're a great witch, Hermione, and an even better person. You've got nothin' to be worryin' over."
"It's a change, and change isn't always do the better. And I'm taking two jobs: I'll be swamped. Despite that, I knew what I was getting into when I signed on, so that's no surprise. Why can't I be like everyone else?" she asked, although she hadn't meant to put such feeling in the statement. Could you say unresolved issues, much?
Hagrid moved to the couch, gently patting the space beside him. Hermione sat, fingers twisting in her lap. He stilled their motion, forcing her to look up into his warm, open face.
"I know ya have always struggled with who ya are," he began seriously. "I know how much it hurt ya, being picked on, being made to feel unworthy, like you didn't belong. I know 'ow that feels, better than most probably. But that's behind ya now, behind us. You've done so much, and who you are has proved to be the best weapon ya could have had, goin' against someone like Voldemort." He shuddered at the name. "You're never going to change, so don't ask to. There's nothin' wrong with taking on more than everyone else, so long as you can ask yourself two things and the answer's yes."
"What two things?"
"'Is this makin' me happy?' And 'Am I still doin' this for me, and not cause it's what everyone expects me to be doing with me life?'"
"Those are some great questions," Hermione said with a strangled laugh.
"I was pretty proud of 'em meself," he admittedly shyly.
"I'm really going to miss you," cried Hermione.
Sighing, Hagrid put his arm around her, much like George had only the other day. "I'll miss you, too. So long as I know ya happy, I'll be okay. And Hermione? I don't just mean this, I mean everything."
She knew who he was talking about. And she knew what she had to do. "I know. Don't worry, I will."
Hermione just hoped that it wasn't too late.
"So, I guess this is it." Hermione whirled around, bags swinging against her knees, trying to act as if she hadn't been waiting for the past twenty minutes for him to show. Draco stood before her, bandaged hands deep in the pockets of his black wool coat, rain sluicing down the planes of his face, catching in crystals on his eyelashes. It seemed the bright sun she'd woken up with hadn't wanted to stick around for her big moment, the rain coming down almost immediately after she left the comfort of Hagrid's hut.
"I suppose it is," she replied, since it was the only thing she could think to say.
"Well, I wish you all the best, Hermione. And, you know, if you need anything..." Draco began. Always the gentleman, even if he hated her guts.
"I'll let you know," Hermione cut in. "But that goes both ways."
"Fair enough." He stepped forward, as if he'd shake her hand or embrace her, but he shook his head violently, backing away into the ceaseless downpour. And something inside her snapped.
Hermione dropped her bags.
"No. No, no, no, no, no. No!" Hermione shouted, catching up to him and cadging his wrists in hers, infinitely careful if his burns. "How can you leave this like that? Leave me? After everything, don't I deserve more than a few words and a solemn nod, Draco? You're my best friend, and I'm sorry about everything, but I only did what I thought was best!" Hermione protested, her own tears now falling. "I won't apologize for keeping you safe! But still, why can't you even look me in the eye and tell me you hate me, if that's how you really feel?"
Draco pulled away from her, agony clear in every line of his body.
"Why?" he practically roared at her. "Why? Because I don't hate you, Hermione. I can't," he said softly, yet his chest heaved up and down as if he was panting for breath.
Her brow furrowed, clearly confused. "You don't hate me?" she asked, half relieved and half wary. "Then why have you been acting like this?" she screamed at him.
"Because I love you!" he exclaimed, voice rising once again. "I love you, Hermione. I've been in love with you for months, and you've made it quite clear that you don't feel the same way. So how can I stand here, knowing that whatever kind of relationship we did have is most likely over, that you're haring off to London to go and change the world and I won't have any part in it? That when we get back, we'll take our N.E.W.T.S and then leave, and then it'll just be chance encounters on the street and awkward dinner parties or some other pitiful gathering. It will be like nothing ever happened, that I wanted you so much that I just made it all up. And I can't deal with that. So this is the only way I know I can let you go." He began to back away, but Hermione darted in front of him, halting his progress.
This close to him, every thought flew out of her head. So she said the first thing that came to her: "That's so fucking stupid!" she screamed at him.
Draco eyes shone. "Why?"
"Because I love you, too! I love you and I've missed you and i was so scared for so long, that if I told you how I really felt and if things went wrong...it would crush me. Forever. So I pretended. I kept my distance, thinking that you couldn't care about me nearly as much as I cared about you, that I was only hurting myself. After Ron...I didn't think I was capable of getting someone in. But I let you in. I let you in, Draco. Then we kissed and I wanted nothing more than to be with you, it was like I'd been asleep all this time and I'd woken up and realized what I'd always wanted was right there in front of me. But there are things you don't know yet, people who don't want us together, who could hurt you if they found out that I loved you. So I tried..." her voice cracked, but she soldiered on, desperate for him to finally know the truth of how she felt. "I tried to make it go away, to rationalize how I felt about you away, that you'd be better off without me. But I couldn't; it was an agony unlike any I've ever felt and I'd rather die than go through it again. But after everything, I still love you, I still want you. It's only ever been you, Draco. Always."
For a moment, Draco didn't say anything. Didn't move, didn't blink, he just stood there, as if she'd frozen him. Then, a grin who's equal she had never seen split his face, and an irrepressible joy lit up his face. "Thank fucking Merlin," Draco rasped, pulling her to him, drowning out any response she might have made as his mouth covered her own, kissing her like it was all he'd ever wanted and like he didn't want to ever stop.
She knew the feeling.
Her arms going around him of their own accord, his hands cupping the sides of her face as the rain fell around them. Yet the two didn't notice, hardly felt the raindrops, too wrapped up in each other and the knowledge that they'd loved each other all this time. And yes, tomorrow and the days ahead looked bleak and uncertain, but that was tomorrow's problem. At that moment, though, nothing mattered but this moment between them.
Eventually, a need for oxygen became apparent, and the two reluctantly pulled away. Hermione tried to hide her noise of protest, but Draco must have seen it on her face because he placed a loving kiss on her forehead and wrapped his arms around her waist.
"Don't worry," he said with a grin that could only be described as mischievous, "there's going to be a lot more from where that came from."
On any other day, at any other time, Hermione might have hit him in the shoulder. Instead, she let out a laugh, her head buried in the collar of his coat as if she'd always meant to fit there. "I should've known your humility would have a quick expiration date."
"What's there to be humble about when you know the greatest witch in the world loves you back?" he teased. But the genuine tone, the love in his eyes, it completely undid her emotional restraints. Surging up onto her toes, Draco didn't even have time to blink before Hermione kissed him, hands threading through his hair, electricity crackling between them.
The pair separated, but didn't go far, their foreheads touching. "What happens now?" Hermione asked him, her worry evident.
Draco put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Well, I was thinking, we get out of the rain and continue with this new development..."
Hermione glared. Just because she loved him and he now knew that didn't mean she'd put up with his nonsense all the time.
"I don't know," he told her honestly, his own worry now on his face. "But whatever happens, we'll handle it together. No more going it alone: it doesn't end well for us," he said, waving his bandaged hands as if in proof.
Hermione, gently, kissed his knuckles through the bandage; she couldn't suppress her satisfied smirk as a shiver shot through him.
"The train's going to leave soon," Draco reminded her.
"I know."
"Would milady be interested in sharing a carriage with me?" he asked her, voice light and teasing.
Hermione nodded, arms twining around his neck. "Milady would, very much so."
Draco had never been this happy. Curled up in a carriage at the back of the Hogwarts Express, a mug of hot chocolate balanced on the seat beside him -charmed not to spill- and Hermione's warmth pressing into his side -which was way better than any Warming charm, although they'd cast a few of those, too- Draco felt like the grin on his face would be a permanent fixture, and he didn't care.
She loved him.
She loved him.
She loved him.
Nothing could feel better than this.
"Draco, you're stealing all the blanket," Hermione complained.
Rolling his eyes, Draco complied. "Better?" he asked, placing a kiss to her still-drying hair. She let out a satisfied humm in response, settling deeper against his chest. His arms tightened, holding her close. And as beautiful and wondrous as the moment was, as much as he wished he could live like this forever, oblivious to the outside world and all it's troubles, Draco knew he couldn't, and he knew Hermione wouldn't want him to. So, reluctantly, the movement almost physically painful, Draco pulled away from her, tilting her chin to face him fully.
"I need to know," he told her.
He didn't need to say more.
Hermione nodded, determination and regret flashing in her eyes. Simply because he could, because they were together and nothing would ever change that, Draco kissed her, trying to reassure her without words that whatever she had to tell him, he could deal with. The truth was always better to know.
"It started not long after the War. I don't know when, exactly, but Blaise was...recruited, shall we say, when word got out to someone that I'd been spending time with you and your mother. Initially, Blaise was all for it, because he missed you but also because he was afraid for you: a Pureblood of your stature shouldn't really be handing out with the likes of me, to him anyway. So he took that picture, hoping the threat of publicity and the subsequent public disapproval would be enough to cleave us apart."
"But it wasn't," Draco chimed in with a smile.
Hermione smiled right back. "No, of course it wasn't. Then Blaise was asked to ramp up the process when we were clearly still friends. But he had doubts, and then someone gave him even more doubts."
"Luna?"
"How did you know?" she questioned, obviously quite surprised.
Draco shrugged. "In case you didn't notice, Hermione, I do happen to have eyes."
"I have noticed: they're rather pretty," he could have sworn he heard her mutter under her breath.
Draco tried not to preen.
"Anyway, the more time they spent together, the more he felt for her and realized that he'd been wrong, that I wasn't going to hurt you and that I might actually be good for you. All he ever wanted was for you to be happy, Draco, he just went about it the wrong way."
Draco was silent, head swimming. He'd guessed at most of it, but to hear her actually say it...he and Blaise needed to have a chat.
But there were still gaps. "How did you get involved?"
A satisfied gleam alighted in her eyes. "I put all the pieces together, of course. I confronted the pair after finding them in a rather amorous position and they agreed that they needed my help. Eventually."
There was nothing quite like the persistent wrath of Hermione Jean Granger.
"You're very hard to resist."
"Thank you for saying so."
"You sorted out the whole cat thing, didn't you?"
"How did you-"
Draco cut her off. "It had your clever, dainty little finger-prints all over it."
"My hands are perfectly normal in size," she grumbled. Draco chuckled, running a hand through her hair. "Luckily, no one else knows my involvement and with the WWWE, McGonagall had other things on her mind."
"You must have felt terrible lying to her," he commented, serious.
"I did," she acknowledged, voice weak. "I really did. But it was for the greater good, your greater good. Nothing's more important than that."
"You keep saying that. Is whoever that's behind all this really that powerful?"
"They are, Draco." But she didn't say any more.
"Hermione."
Not a word.
"Hermione," he urged her.
"I don't want to hurt you."
"Then tell me who it is."
Hermione took his hand, still so careful with his bandages, devastation painted across her face. "It's your father, Draco. Lucius Malfoy is behind all this, and he wants me dead."
Author's Note: And finally, she delivers! Are you happy? I'm happy. I loved writing this, it just seemed to flow out of my brain. Thank you for sticking around to see/read this. I hope it was everything you wanted, but I'm not done yet.
Until next time,
All my love, Temperance Cain
