Disclaimer:- I neither earn nor own anything from this story except my plot. Harry Potter and his world are the intellectual property of JK Rowling and her associates.
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A/N:- Thank you to LadyWinterlight, for her beta work on this chapter, and to everyone for their reviews and alerts, I hope you enjoy this next chapter. During this chapter there is a small discussion of what happened to Hermione at Malfoy Manor during the war, it is not graphic, but I know how some of you like your warnings.
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Chapter Four – The End of First Term
It only seemed like the blink of an eye and Christmas was upon them. Hermione had already decided against going to The Burrow for Christmas and, to tell the truth, all she wanted to do was be as far away from Hogwarts as possible because Ron wasn't her only problem.
She'd worked all term with Draco, and somewhere along the way a good friendship had grown between them. However, Hermione was very angry with herself because friendship was not all she felt for the blond Slytherin. Over the course of the term, being in his presence had only reinforced what her heart had felt after their coffee at Sabitini's. The worst part was that she suspected in a different world it may have meant more, but friendship was all she would ever be allowed in this one.
Of course, it went without saying that most people knew nothing of the friendship that had been forged during late night patrols and the planning and presentation of that year's yule ball, and Hermione saw no reason for them to know.
It was now the night before the yule ball, and Hermione was tired as she trudged around the freezing castle with Draco on another endless patrol.
"I sometimes think that the words 'head girl' is just another way of saying 'constant exhaustion.'"
Draco barked a mirthless laugh. "Mmm," he replied. "You'll get no argument from me on that score."
"What are your plans for Christmas?" Hermione asked, after they'd walked another corridor.
Draco shrugged. "I don't have any," he replied.
"None? But aren't you doing something with the Greengrass' or Andromeda and Teddy?"
"Sure, but I have no plans," he said.
"What would you like to do?" Hermione asked him.
Draco did not answer immediately, and they walked on in silence for some time, finally he said, "I'd like to start a Christmas tradition with someone special. Something that only we do once a year."
Hermione stopped and smiled. "That sounds lovely," she sighed. "Do you have any idea what you'd like your tradition to be?"
"Not yet, but I'm certain that I'll know when the time is right. How about you?"
It was her turn to shrug. "I'm staying here."
"So, you're cutting yourself out of Christmas because of that gormless git, Weasley?"
She shrugged. "I'll have the library to myself, and on Christmas Day I'll visit my brother's grave and then maybe have a coffee at Sabitini's," and she sighed.
Draco couldn't help thinking that her life sounded just as bleak as his felt, but he concentrated on a positive; if a dead brother could be counted as a positive, and he knew that it wasn't. Nevertheless, he forged ahead, desperately trying to cut through the misery currently hanging between them. "I didn't know you had a brother. What happened to him?"
Hermione smiled fondly. "Henry was three years older than me. He died when I was in second year, a skiing accident."
"I'm sorry," Draco replied. "So, he wasn't a wizard?"
She shook her head. "No, he was just normal Henry…" and her words trailed off as they continued walking, but after some moments she said, "You know it's very ironic that mum and dad have the memory of their dead child, but nothing…" and she blinked hard several times and cleared her throat.
"About you," Draco finished for her as he watched her valiantly trying to control her emotion while she nodded. "You know, I also had a brother," he admitted.
"Really? Younger or older?"
"He was older… Cygnus… He was seven years older than me. He'd been married young, straight out of school too." He glanced at her. "It was… is the done thing," and he inhaled deeply going silent as they continued to walk. "His wife died trying to give him a child… and he left," he said after a long pause.
"That's terrible," Hermione commented.
Draco nodded. "Mmm, but not as terrible as what happened to him," he said quietly.
"Why, what happened?" Hermione asked.
"When the Dark… V-Voldemort was reincarnated, my brother refused to bow down before him. He'd been living in France and away from father's influence for a number of years before he'd been summoned home." Draco took a deep breath. "Uncle Severus tried to make him see sense, tell him that it was too dangerous to denounce someone like… b-but after he was punished when he would not bow down… he was banished to the dungeons and only brought out when… when that bastard wanted to make a point on loyalty." Draco disappeared into his own thoughts for a time, walking along in silence.
Hermione wanted to take his hand, offer him comfort in some way for what he was admitting to her, but she knew she couldn't.
Then he started talking again. "One night, after such an episode, in desperation my mother tried to help him escape, but because her magic had good intent, as soon as it touched him it set him on fire."
Hermione gasped and grimaced. "Oh, no! How horrible," she said, her eyes already welling up. She placed her hand on his arm. "I'm so sorry, Draco. But why did h-he burn?"
"Voldemort had magic detecting spells in place, and they were attuned to intent. Because mother's intent was to save Cygnus…" He watched Hermione fighting to remain composed and he was shocked at how strong his urge was to pull her into his arms. It was made worse because it was at that moment he knew that he had to admit something else, which had been burning guiltily in his belly ever since it had happened. "It was the same reason that we could not help you that awful day that my aunt got her talons into you. You would have burned, too, if we'd tried."
Hermione was uncertain what to say. She looked at Draco, who appeared stricken by his admission, and she was so shocked that she just stood there pale and silent. The giant clock under the astronomy tower suddenly struck the hour and it reverberated through the frigid silence like a gong echoing in an empty room as it vibrated in the icy air around them.
It made her jump, and finally she whispered, "Thank you for telling me that." Her lip was wedged in between her teeth and it took her a long time before she spoke again. "Umm… We best get to our rooms."
He nodded, seeming unable to speak either, and they walked back to their rooms.
xox
The next evening they worked seamlessly as the hosts of the yule ball in their capacities as head boy and girl. They responded to the dinner speeches and opened the dancing and were generally the perfect hosts, but not once did they act like more than cool acquaintances.
Draco did note, however, that Hermione out shone every other witch at the ball, even Astoria with her cool good looks. He ached to tell her how beautiful she'd looked, but it would do no good to say it out loud. He was very aware that Astoria had taken a stronger dislike to Hermione when he'd told her that as head boy he had to partner the head girl, that she was glowering at them constantly, and he simply couldn't make that situation any worse for Hermione.
For her part, Hermione felt at home beside Draco—something that she never thought she could—and being in his arms while they waltzed together had been lovely. He was a stunning dancer, and she catalogued the experience in her mind, thinking that this might be her only opportunity to feel the sensation, even as her heart ached at that thought.
The next morning they bid one another goodbye before Draco left for the Christmas holidays.
"I guess this will be the last time a see you before Christmas. Happy Christmas, Draco," Hermione said, and she pulled a small, but perfectly wrapped present from her pocket.
He gave her a half smile and took her offering. "Thank you," he said. He placed a delicate box in her hand in return and leant forward, brushing a soft kiss across her cheek before whispering, "And Happy Christmas to you too, Hermione."
His nearness was intoxicating, and Hermione clung to the sensation. Their eyes met and they seemed to become lost in one another, but finally they stepped back.
She smiled at him and turned back towards her room; it was only as she heard him leaving to go to breakfast that she allowed her tears to consume her. After last night, she couldn't wipe away how good it had felt being in his arms, but it was all pretend, and it was slowly tearing her apart. How was she going to do this for two more terms?
xox
Over the next week, Hermione occupied herself with completing her holiday work and reading ahead for next term. She relished the peace and quiet and the lack of interruptions, but thoughts of her situation were never far from the surface.
These reflections were always followed by indulging in some daydreams about a very handsome, tall, blond, Slytherin. Of course, she would chastise herself for her thoughts afterwards and she'd do some training or go for a run if the weather was okay, but she came to the conclusion that she was just going to have to live with her feelings for Draco and get on with life. She'd lived through worse situations, and at least this one was only threatening her happiness. It would pass.
It was near noon when Hermione awoke on Christmas Eve, and it was to the sound of flapping wings. She blurrily looked to her window and saw an owl waiting for entry. Grabbing her heavy dressing gown she wandered to the window, and was shocked to see Molly's handwriting on the envelope.
She tore the seal and read. It was an invitation to afternoon tea, but at number twelve Grimmauld Place, not The Burrow.
Wandering back over to her bed she flopped down, wondering what Molly wanted to talk to her about. She was obviously going to a lot of trouble to make their meeting private. Grimmauld Place had been left as a safe house; no one lived there, but it was open to all Order members if they required it, and she wondered what Ron had said to his mother about her absence.
She thought about this development for some moments, glancing down at the note again, and then she sighed. "I guess I shouldn't burn my bridges," she muttered, and rose to reply.
The owl had made itself comfortable on the back of her writing desk chair, and she penned a quick reply and sent the bird on its way with a warming charm around it and an apology for the weather it had to fly through.
xox
At ten to two, Hermione knocked on Professor Proudfoot's door; she'd seen her at lunch to ascertain whether it was possible to use her Floo to get to her appointment.
"Come in," the voice from within called.
"Hello, Ma'am," Hermione said as she entered.
The woman looked up from her marking, and smiled. "Hello, Miss Granger," and her kind blue eyes watched Hermione genially, before she added, "We haven't had much of a chance to speak yet, and I'm sorry about that."
"I'm certain that you've had greater issues to deal with."
She cackled softly. "Mmm," she replied. "But regardless, you are still a student under my care. How are you?"
Hermione was uncertain about how she felt about the woman's question, but she answered pragmatically. "I didn't think that coming back here was ever going to be pleasant," she said forcing a casual smile to her lips. "It was born purely from necessity."
"Yes, that is true," the professor replied, seeing that she wasn't going to get anything else from the young woman. "Will you be returning after your appointment?"
"Yes, if it is convenient."
"Certainly. Do you know what time?"
"I should imagine that I won't be longer than an hour."
"In that case, I will still be slaving over this lot, so just come through when you're ready."
"Thank you," Hermione replied, and took a pinch of Floo Powder.
She walked out into the kitchen at Grimmauld Place to the hearty warmth of fresh baked scones and the smell of tea.
"Hello, Hermione," Molly said, pulling her into a tight hug. Molly had hoped that Hermione would have just turned up for Christmas, but after a week and she hadn't, the kindly witch decided that she needed to find out what was going on first hand. There was never the opportunity to speak at Hogwarts as she passed through each day.
"Hello," Hermione replied quietly.
Molly pulled her back to arm's length and scanned over her with kind eyes. "How are you?" she asked, and when Hermione simply looked at her and swallowed, she sighed and rubbed Hermione's upper arms. "Perhaps you should tell me what's going on, as I think I may be being kept in the dark."
Hermione swallowed again. Could she talk about it and remain composed, and then the image of dancing with Draco flitted across the screen of her mind and she just wanted to cry again. In fact, her eyes did well up, and Molly encouraged her to sit.
"I guess I shouldn't have gone travelling," Hermione admitted with a sigh.
However, Molly's words in reply were passionate. "I wish I'd had the opportunity to do exactly what you did, because once you're settled in life you never really get that sort of freedom back. No, don't wish that you hadn't done it, Hermione. As much as I love my son, I suspect that Ron is at fault here. He used his freedom to do what he wanted to do too, but it has also been his downfall as well."
"Why?"
"Hasn't he talked to you about it?" Molly wanted to know.
Hermione bit her lip and shook her head. "I haven't spoken to him properly since I've returned." She took a deep breath. "Ron and I agreed to meet up on platform nine and three-quarters and catch the Hogwarts Express together because I knew that my last Portkey would get me back to the ministry at nine in the morning. I had a quick freshen up at The Leaky, and then went straight to the platform." She paused and cleared her throat, and this prompted Molly to pour the tea she had ready.
"So what happened next?"
Hermione thanked Molly for the tea and took a careful sip before she spoke again. "Well, when he and Harry turned up it was a media circus." She inhaled slowly before speaking again. "I'm a quiet person, Molly, I don't like that sort of attention," and she took a sip of tea. "In fact, I am very much against the amount of galleons being wasted on pandering to egos."
Molly sighed and nodded. "I agree… And the problem is that sooner or later it will stop and…" her mouth tightened as she thought about it.
Hermione nodded in agreement, but then said, "Of course, that was not the only thing. When Ron arrived, he was holding hands with Lavender Brown, so I… Well, I didn't approach him," she added, taking another sip of her tea, and a deep breath before adding, "Look, the long and the short of it is this. The only interactions I've had with Ron since I returned was when I caught him baiting a first-year girl who he thought were going to be placed in Slytherin house on the journey to Hogwarts, and on the occasions when he's turned up wanting things from me, even though I am still angry with him."
"Oh dear Merlin," Molly gasped.
Hermione took a deep breath. "He's unrecognisable, he's no longer the sweet boy I left, but a publicity whore of the highest calibre. No offence intended, Mrs Weasley."
"None taken, dear. I've seen it all, don't worry."
They sat in silence for a time, but then Molly said, "So you're not wearing your ring?"
"I returned it to him on the train when I saw that he was cheating on me."
"You returned it?"
"Yes, why?"
Molly's lips tightened, but she placed her cup carefully back onto its saucer. "Nothing, don't worry," and she patted Hermione's hand. "Look," she said, picking up the hand she'd just patted. "As far as Arthur and I are concerned, you are a member of our family, and we hope that you will come to Christmas dinner."
Hermione thought about it for some time. "I'm not certain that's wise, Molly. It might make Christmas unpleasant for you all."
"Nonsense, Hermione. If you do not have plans we would love to have you come."
"Thank you, but I think not."
Molly sighed. "I had a feeling that you'd say that," and she pulled a package from her apron pocket. "Thank you for the presents you sent to The Burrow," and she enlarged the package and handed it to Hermione. "Maybe we could try again next year."
Hermione smiled as she took the packet and placed it in front of her. "Thank you… Yes, perhaps next year," and she rose from the table. "Happy Christmas, Molly," she said, shrinking the package and placing it in her own pocket.
Molly pulled her into a hug. "Don't give up, Hermione," she told her. "You stick to your guns, dear. I'm sure Ron will come around."
"M-Maybe… Thank you, Molly," and she pulled away and took some Floo powder to return to Hogwarts, unable to think of what else to say.
xox
Molly marched back into the kitchen at The Burrow planning to strangle her youngest son. "Ronald Bilius Weasley! Kitchen, now!" she called.
Ron knew that tone of voice, and he wondered what he'd done. "What, Mum?" he called in reply, getting up from his game of chess with Harry. "Back in a tick, mate," he said, but as he walked into the kitchen and took in his mother's angry face he gulped.
"Sit!" Molly ordered.
"What is it, Mum?"
Molly leaned over the table, her arms buttressed on the table. "Did you, or did you not receive your grandmother's ring back from Hermione at the beginning of the term?"
He paled.
"I'll take that as a yes, and therefore you've lied to me," Molly all but growled at him.
"Umm," he spluttered.
"I'll also take that as a yes," she stated. "Well, where is it now?"
"I think I threw it in my trunk," he replied, knowing full well that he hadn't.
"Get it!" Molly growled.
Ron hadn't seen his mother so angry for a long time, and he wondered what Hermione had told her. She must have talked to Hermione. Stupid cow, she was always getting him into trouble. "I-I c-can't," he stuttered.
"Why not?" Molly demanded.
"Because… I-I gave it to someone else," Ron replied, knowing that lying was not an option.
"Who?" Molly pressed. She was unspeakably angry with Ron; that ring belonged to Hermione, she was going to be Ron's wife. Not someone else.
Ron shrugged, not wanting to answer.
"That was your grandmother's ring. It was only to be given to the witch that you married. You get it back," she snapped.
"This is all Hermione's fault," he said heatedly, but then muttered, "The stupid cow is too touchy."
"Ronald!" his mother chastised. "She saw you holding hands with someone else."
"So?" Ron shrugged. "I want to have some fun you know."
Molly shook her head sadly. "You loved Hermione, what's changed?"
Ron shrugged. "I don't know. She's boring."
"Hermione most certainly is not boring."
"Well, she never wants to have any fun."
"Just because her idea and your idea of fun is different doesn't make her boring. Did you even speak to her at the dance last night?"
"No, I was with Lav last night," and too late he realised that he shouldn't have said anything.
"So, you went to the ball with another girl."
"She was with Ferret all night, and he's got a fiancé too."
"I assume you're talking about Draco Malfoy, and he's the head boy, isn't he?"
Ron sneered. "Yeah, don't know why they gave that job to a slimy git like him. Harry would have made a better head boy," he muttered.
"Well, apart from the fact that they never chose a head boy and girl from the same house, Mister Malfoy and Hermione—as head girl and boy—were the hosts of the night at last night's ball. They had to be together."
"Well, nobody told me that," Ron muttered.
"Did you even think to ask?"
"Well, n-no, but I hate that smarmy git," he declared.
Molly sighed. "Oh, Ron, think about things before you jump to conclusions, Son." She came around the table and sat beside him. "Ron, you will not be able to ride this wave of celebration forever, you know. There will come a day when people will move on, it always happens. Hermione was a good friend, she pulled you and Harry through a war… Don't think you can do without someone as bright as her in your corner; you really do need her, Ron."
"I'm doin' fine," he replied, "and I'll go back to Quidditch once I leave Hogwarts. Don't worry, Mum."
Molly patted his hand. "Ah, but that's a mother's job. Just think about what I've said, Ron."
Ron sighed. "Okay, Mum." He got up to go before he realised that she hadn't finished with him yet.
"And we'll discuss what you did to that first year on the train another time, young man."
"What?" he yelled, spinning around to face her. "I didn't do…" but then he remembered the little girl on the train and he had the goodness to bow his head. "Yeah, that was a bit stupid," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "But it was only a bit of fun… a-and I was right too."
Molly sighed in exasperation. "Son, imagine if your sister was on her way to first year and someone had pronounced that she would be a Slytherin in a place where she might have been in danger, and then left her to fend for herself."
"I'd kill them," he declared passionately.
Molly lifted and eyebrow. "This little girl was just the same as your sister, and she may never feel safe on that train again thanks to what you did. Hermione was right to call you out on it."
Ron's brow creased in confusion, and something started to sit very heavily in his chest. "Mum, I'm not feeling very well, I think I'll have a lie down."
"Very well, son. Dinner won't be long."
Ron trudged back up the stairs and flopped down on his clothes littered bed. He suddenly realised what a mess he'd made, and he remembered how nice Hermione had been to him, and he hadn't even spoken to her this last term beyond wanting things from her. Then he turned his mind to wondering if giving Lavender his grandmother's ring had been wise. He'd as good as promised Lavender that they would be together, but his mother wanted him to be with Hermione, and he wasn't too proud to admit that he was seriously scared of his mother.
Actually, he was seriously scared of Hermione too, but he was fond of her, and having Hermione would be like having a mother to take care of him, while having Lavender would be like having a sex goddess on hand. Hermione wasn't in the same league as Lavender on that scale, but she really took good care of him, and she helped him with his homework and such. It was a pity that he couldn't have both of them, and he lay back with his hands behind his head and set his mind to thinking about that.
Eventually, he decided that his mother was right, he did need Hermione; he really hadn't done well this last term without her help, but he'd have to do some fairly fancy talking to get himself on her good side again so she'd help him with his homework. Then again, Hermione probably wouldn't fall for fancy talking. "Bollocks," he muttered, he'd have to be smart about this. When term started again he'd have to find a way to keep Lavender but get back in with Hermione; he needed her help with homework.
xox
Ron was still thinking when Harry turned up.
"What you doing? I thought you were coming back to play chess?"
"Yeah, I was," Ron replied distractedly. "Oh geez, Harry. Yes I was, I'm sorry…" but his words trickled off. "Harry?" He waited for his friend to look at him. "I've just been thinking about 'Mione."
"Have you?" Harry said
Ron heaved a huge sigh. "Do you think I've been a bit hard on her?"
Harry flopped down on his own bed and scrubbed his hands through his hair. "Bloody hell," he sighed. "Really, Ron?" He couldn't believe that Ron was only just starting to wake up to himself. "You've been plain awful to her, mate. None of us could work out what had come over you?"
Ron scrubbed his hand over his face. "It got out of hand. People were letting us get away with all sorts of things."
"Yeah," Harry muttered, glancing up while sitting with his elbows on his knees and his face cradled in his hands. "But, Ron, it had to stop somewhere."
"I just wanted to have fun," Ron added.
"And it was nice having people acknowledge us for what we did," Harry replied, a smile curving his lips.
"Yeah, but Hermione thinks it's wrong," Ron argued.
Harry sighed. "It kind of was…"
"Yeah, I guess so," and Ron exhaled. "I guess there are better things for the money to be put towards."
"Maybe you should try to make it up to 'Mione."
"I guess I could try and make it up to her once term starts again," he was heartened to hear Harry say this, and in Ron's mind, it was pretty much giving him permission to implement his plan; even if Harry had no idea about that.
This was illustrated when Harry sighed. "Do you think you should wait that long? It is Christmas," he put in, and as he said it they heard Molly down stairs.
"Dinner!"
Ron shot up off the bed. "Yeah, it'll be right. Come on, mate, I'm starving."
