24 Minutes Chapter 4 (Last Chapter)

'Next time' happened to be a week later. He was sitting down, his headphones in his ears, watching people file into the cabin with him. He didn't have football or work that night so he was heading home directly after classes. He had given up hope of seeing her on the tube again, as he hadn't seen her except the one time. But, just as the doors were getting ready to close as they had been the first time, Hermione stepped into the crowded space.

She was wearing a dainty red dress with white flowers over it, paired with the same feminine trainers she'd worn the first day, her anklet still gracefully draped at the base of her leg. She was absolutely stunning, her hair pulled back messily. But her face was stained nearly as red as her dress, splotchy and swollen from crying. She made eye contact with him and she dropped her eyes to the floor.

Draco stood and moved out of the way of the seat. "Please, Hermione. Have my seat—I'll stand," he told her, gesturing to the empty bench.

"Thanks," came her soft mumble as she slid in next to an elderly man.

Draco stood, holding onto the rail as the tube thrust into motion. "Are you okay?" he asked gently, nudging her foot with his toe.

She shrugged and wrung her hands in her lap. "Would you like to grab a bite and talk?" he tried, hoping she would agree so he could find out what troubled her so.

Hermione looked up to him, a defeated look on her face and gave one nod. "I'd like that. I need someone unattached to tell me I'm not crazy."

His brows knitted together and he pursed his lips. "You're not crazy."

"Hear me out first and then tell me that again later," she replied, falling silent.

The ride was somber and silent, save the noises of the other passengers. He didn't want to force her into speaking, but he hoped that she would when they were alone and not in such a crowded tomb of a place. When the underground train shuddered to a stop, Hermione watched everyone else file out and Draco waited patiently until she exited to follow her.

They walked toward the center of their neighborhood where a large fountain rested, nestled amidst some store-front shops, pubs and restaurants. "There's a little cart up here—sells the best fish and chips you've ever had," she mentioned, pointing ahead.

"Sal's. I know—I frequent it often as I live three blocks away," he told her with a half-smile.

They ordered their food, two take away baskets of fish and chips, and Draco led Hermione to the fountain. He sat on the side of the structure, placing his food beside him as he did. She seemed to hesitate for a moment before she sat next to him. "I'm sorry. It's just…I don't make a habit of speaking with men I hardly know. I don't speak to many men at all, actually. Save my professors, George and our friends when we see them."

"I can assure you, I am harmless," Draco told her, watching the way her jaw moved slowly as she chewed a bite of food.

He could have sworn that, just under a heavy coat of concealer, there was a bit of purple showing along her jaw line and the sight made him seethe with anger. He didn't truly know Hermione—but how anyone could ever harm someone so petite, so divine, was beyond comprehension. She sighed, stretching her legs out long before her and crossing her ankles. "I went to his mother. He was hospitalized today at St. Mary the Immaculate."

St. Mary's was a psychiatric hospital in the heart of London, not far from HCL, which explained why she was on the Underground. "I'm sorry. But I hope he can get the help he needs."

"Me too," she responded.

"How do you feel?" he asked tenderly.

Hermione drew a deep breath. "I thought I told you we'd speak of happier things the next time we met?"

"You can speak of whatever you want. I'll listen," he told her, looking up at her with sincerity in his eyes.

She looked away from his stare and back down at her feet, placing her food alongside her. "We got into a pretty nasty row yesterday. He has become increasingly paranoid and accused me of sneaking around with one of our friends. I told him I could see our friend without him if I wanted, but that it did not mean I was sleeping with him. And if he wanted to continue pushing me, he would find me in the arms of another man."

Draco's eyes widened at her confession and he let out a heavy exhale. "And what did he do?"

"Let's just say my cosmetics skills aren't as great as I thought. I know you can see it," she told him, pulling her messy bun out and shaking her hair around her face to hide any evidence.

She looked at her hands and popped a chip into her mouth. "I went to his mother after that. Showed her and told her I was leaving, but that he needed professional help to deal with his grief over losing Fred."

Draco's heart swelled and he felt a sense of pride in her. "You listened to me."

"I don't know you," she told him, looking out over the plaza at a few indolently moseying individuals, "but you don't treat me like everyone else does. Like my friends do."

"And how's that?"

"I feel as though I am used for their personal gain. We attended the same boarding school, you see. And since we were young, they used me for one thing or another—to copy assignments because they were too busy playing footie. As a makeshift date when needed. George used me as his anti-depressant for the last year and his punching bag for the last few months. I lied when I said it was the second time. It wasn't…"

He wanted to place a hand around her shoulders to let her know he understood—it had been such a prominent part of his childhood. But he simply nodded, angry at her sorry excuse for friends. "What will you do now?" he asked her.

A gust of wind blew and she drew her jumper closer around her. "I need to get my things from the flat. My parents said I could move back in with them until I got on my feet once more."

"Do you need any help?"

Hermione bit her lip. "Well, I don't have much honestly. Most things are his. Just some clothes and a few odds and ends…once my friends find out I turned my back on George and had him committed, I don't suspect they'll want to see me," she mentioned, pulling her mobile phone from her bag.

She sighed when she opened the screen and saw a list of missed calls and messages. "I just don't feel like dealing with this tonight. It's been a long day."

"We don't have to talk about such matters. Tell me, what are you studying?" he asked, switching the subject to something she might be more comfortable with.

"Comparative Literature," she answered, looking ashamed suddenly.

He tapped her arm lightly with his fingertips. "Hey. That's fascinating."

"George tells me that it's a waste of time. That I should go to medical school or law school. Something worthwhile."

"Says the man who runs a comic book store," Draco scoffed, rolling his eyes. "What do you want to do?"

"I'd ultimately like to get a job working within the government, perhaps with the FCO as a research analyst. Comparative literature is just a starting place," she told him.

"That's amazing. You have such steadfast, concrete goals."

"What are you studying?" Hermione asked, genuinely curious.

"Business. I want to open my own lending firm. I'm quite good at managing money—what little of it I have," he replied.

Draco didn't like to admit aloud that he wasn't well-to-do. After his mother's death and his father's subsequent imprisonment, he'd been on his own, sometimes working two jobs to make ends meet. But he was stable and enjoyed his modest lifestyle. He always tried to take each day as it came and never get too far into a negative mindset. But even still, he knew this girl could relate—the only belongings she had for herself was a closet full of clothing and a few "odds and ends."

"What do you like to do for fun, Draco?" she asked him, trying to initiate conversation much to his delight.

"I got into HCL on a sports scholarship, so I am part of a football club there. Beyond school, work and the club, I don't have too much time to myself. I suppose I enjoy reading quite a bit—though I am willing to bet you are far more well-read than I," he told her with a dashing smile.

"Perhaps. I have read a good majority of the books in the library here in London over my lifetime."

"What is it about reading that intrigues you?"

"The ability to slip into another world, just through written word. You and I could read the exact same book and come away with two different interpretations, which would inevitably be different than how the author saw the scene play out in their mind. While you are reading, you're able to let go of the harsh realities of the world and focus solely on the material on those pages," she explained.

Draco watched as her eyes lit up as she spoke, the way her cheeks began to flush with the slightest of blushes as her excitement grew as she explained her thirst for the written word. Again, he was struck with absolute awe of the girl before him—her beauty, her intelligence, her fiery passion. She was absolutely intoxicating, her lilting voice a pretty melody. How anyone could become so angry with her that they would lift a hand to her, or even their voice, was beyond all understanding.

She spoke quickly of the latest piece of literature she read, gesticulating with her hands to emphasize points, finally in a comfortable place with him. Draco watched her, the way her hair blew in the light breeze, curls dancing about her face. Her dress ruffled around her knees and she uncrossed and recrossed her ankles as she spoke, readjusting her positioning on the hard stone fountain wall.

Finally, halfway through a sentence, she looked up at him and her voice faltered. "What?" she asked, suddenly uncertain.

He smiled a lopsided grin and shrugged. "Nothing. It's just…you're absolutely fascinating. Your passion is so unlike anyone else I've ever met."

She blushed a little deeper and looked down at her hands. He wanted nothing more than to pull her to himself, kiss her, show her that not all men would treat her the way she'd been treated. But she was nowhere near ready for that—she'd only had this George bloke committed earlier that afternoon. "I guess I speak too much when I get excited about something," she said by way of apology.

The thought that she was apologizing for being brilliant and interesting was infuriating. She'd been made to feel that her thoughts and interests weren't worth the time. "When you've had some time to yourself to just…process everything you've been through, I would love it if I could take you out and pick your brain some more. When you're ready," he told her and she smiled slightly and looked out over the plaza once more.

"I'd like that," was her sweet reply and Draco felt his heart sing.

One day, he would be able to prove to this incredible girl that she was so much more than what she'd been made to believe of herself. He would give her the world.

o-o-o

THIS IS THE END OF WHAT I HAVE FOR 24 MINUTES!