Just focus on packing, Hermione.
My mind races as I try, once again, to come to terms with what I'm doing.
You're only doing exactly what you were before your injury.
I think again of all we talked about last night. From the information I have, I can see how Draco and I would have come together. We have had a great life together. Equals as intellectuals, both successful professionally, similar favorite past times— he knows all the social etiquette to be the Minister's husband.
Minister...
How cruel, that just as everything I ever worked for was ripped away right as it was coming together. I need to get back into the running. I need my life back.
I try and push through the recesses of my mind, desperate for my memories, but all it gains me is a migraine. I groan and continue to pack. I run across Ron's letter as I'm finishing up. I smack my head in frustration— I'd forgotten all about meeting him today. I bite my lip as I recall how open and mesmerizing Draco was yesterday. His eyes were soft as he described our life together. He seemed so... in love.
I can't see Ron right now. It's too confusing. Ron feels familiar, like returning to my childhood home, but Draco feels like the future. I begin to pen up some excuse but falter. Where do I even start? I decide to take a less than Gryffindor approach. Cowardly, I decide— I just won't be here when he arrives. I grab my bags and head downstairs. With Ginny at practice and Harry at work, I let myself to the floo.
"Malfoy/Granger Residence," I say, loud and clear.
I close my eyes and hold my elbows in tight. I spin around and around then step out of the hearth, brushing excess ash from my clothes. I gasp as I realize our floo is in our library.
Dropping my bags, I drink in the sight of floor to ceiling bookcases. I inhale the scent of books mixed with cedar. My eyes water as I skim through the different sections of first edition education texts, fiction, non-fiction, legal writings, even a section solely devoted to ancient books passed down through pureblood families. There's a window seat that overlooks the back yard; I imagine myself in five years, settling in to read with the sounds of children playing outside. I envision myself buried in a book on a stormy autumn night, rain beating across the window as I cuddle into a blanket with a cup of piping hot tea.
I find that I've now circled the entire room as I run my knee into an armchair. Swearing under my breath, I observe the set up more closely. Two armchairs with a small table nestled between them, positioned in front of the fireplace. I smile; it looks like the two of us enjoy reading by a fire. The fireplace suddenly whirs to life. I look up, expecting Draco to step out of the emerald flames. My stomach drops—I find myself not face to face with Draco, but with Ron instead.
"You weren't at Harry's..." He said, looking uncertain. "I thought you might be here instead."
His statement hangs heavy like a curtain. The weight of what it means clear on his face. I've chosen Draco again.
"I figured it was time. Don't you?"
I wrap my arms around my torso protectively. I'm home. I've decided to get my life back. I've made my choices. He tentatively steps forward, closing the space between us.
"' Mione, is there no part of you that feels like maybe this was by the fates? You wanted to be Minister, I wanted a family. Now, here you are, on the cusp of everything you ever wanted, yet your memories after us are gone." His eyes plead, and he reaches for my hand. "We can have all we ever wanted. I pushed too hard, and I realize I pushed you away in trying to get what I wanted. I didn't take the time to give you what you wanted. For that, I'm sorry, Hermione, please."
His blue eyes twinkle, and before I have time to react, he's pulling me into his embrace. He smells familiar, I catch myself thinking. He sighs into my hair; is he thinking the same thing?
"Ron – I"
My voice cracks, and before I know it, his lips are on mine.
Familiar...
I'm about to pull away, to let him know that we should leave us in the past, but the floo whirs and breaks us apart. My heart pounds a powerful drum against my chest as I turn and face my fiancé. His hand grips his wand so tightly, his knuckles are white, and my mouth dries at his murderous expression.
"Draco! It's- it's not what it-"
"Oh? It's not? It's not what it looks like?" he spits, cutting me off venomously. "Because it looks like my fiancée is kissing her fucking ex. In OUR home, mind you."
I look to Ron, who, for once, seems to be paralyzed.
"We- we- we were just—" I try,
My explanation tapers off before Draco grabs Ron by the collar and throws him to the fireplace, hissing for him to get out in an extremely vehement manner. I vaguely register the floo whir until the heat from the flames dissipates. I glance at Draco and recoil. His cheeks are flushed in anger, but his eyes scream his pain. His eyes meet mine for a split second, and he turns away almost immediately. His breath is ragged.
"What is it you want, Hermione?" He asks, his voice icy but calmer than I anticipate, "I understand this is hard for you, but you're not the only one this has affected. This is hard for me too. You feel like you've lost your life, but you're not the one stuck with the memories watching as the person you love doesn't even recognize you. Just tell me what you want."
"Draco, I've made my choice –"
"Weasley? Is that what this is?" His words cut through me like a sharp knife, "Couldn't even wait to be out of the home we've shared first?"
I start to attempt to explain once more, but he cuts me off with a harsh barking laugh.
"Really shouldn't be all that surprised, I suppose. Sounds about right, yeah? I fall in love with the very thing I was taught to fear and hate the most, and now here we are."
He throws his arms out as if to showcase me in a demonstration.
"So, just go ahead, get on with it! Walk out the door—you're too good for a Death Eater anyhow,"
His face hardens and turns cold, almost as if he's turned to marble.
"–you always were," he adds, almost under his breath.
"Draco, just let me talk, please. This isn't— didn't mean for this to happen. I asked Ron to meet me at Harry's, yes, but after seeing you, I couldn't do it, so I came home. Here. I didn't think he'd come here after I wasn't there. Ron is...what I remember but— please, Draco! Let me finish!" I reach for him as he walks towards the door. "Ron is what I remember—he kissed me, and I really was pulling away as you came home," I call out.
He stops and turns around. His grey eyes flicker as he looks at me, skeptical but curious as to what I will say next. I take a shaking breath and continue.
"You, Draco," I say, locking eyes with him, "My future is with you. I don't know myself right now. I– I feel like I can't trust my own thoughts and feelings, but I need to see what this is. I made the decision to come home, and I will stand by that."
I gasp as he charges and collides into me. His hand twists into my hair at the nape of my neck. His lips are hungry as he kisses me, claiming me, laying his stake. I open up to him, fueling and allowing his desperation. His tongue slips into my mouth, sliding over my own. His other hand presses into my hip as he squeezes me to him. He nibbles my lip and, I moan and my mind clouds with desire. He murmurs my name with a shuddered breath. He releases me and steps back, breathless, leaving me weak at the knees. He begins to pace with his head in his hands, his movements jerky, and unlike his natural grace. He stops to speak, but simply closes his mouth, and begins pacing again. With each pass, I feel more on edge. Stupid, really. Why did I want to meet with Ron, to begin with? My eyes land on Draco again, and I feel compelled to say something – anything to break the apparent internal struggle he's suffering. I rack my brain for some inspiration.
"Would you.. like some tea?" I ask lamely, internally facepalming.
Tea. Tea? That's all I can come up with? He looks thrown at my suggestion, but his voice is husky and quiet.
"That'd be nice."
Instantly, I rush past him, grateful he's stopped pacing. I'm in the hallway before my step falters.
"Er-Draco?" He hums in acknowledgment. "Where exactly do I get tea?" The look on his face is pure confusion as he answers me.
"The kit- Oh." He chuckles lightly. "Would you like a tour?"
He offers his hand as his gaze pierces through me. Our hallway is bright, with many pictures of us and our friends lining the walls. I slow my pace, greedy for anything that could bring something forward. A view of us as Draco tumbles us into the snow. Another one of us waving from some beach. One of us kissing in front of our home, waving the key in front of the camera. I stop as we get to a picture of myself in a beautiful dress, hair in an elegant twist with ringlets framing my face. Draco is in dress robes that match his eyes perfectly. Behind us are my parents, Draco's parents, and beside us is Harry, Ginny, Blaise, Pansy, and another girl I think I remember from Hogwarts. I watch the loop as they all jostle each other playfully. Draco and I look into each other's eyes, and my fingers brush the frame.
"The day you said yes." I hear behind me. "One of the happiest days of my life."
We continue down, and I laugh as I reach a painted portrait of us hanging in the space across from stairs leading down. There are doors on either side of the said portrait, and Draco explains one is the room we share together, and the other has been prepared for him.
"Normally, this would be our guest room. The other doors down the hallway are- are for our children." He looks down at his feet before meeting my eyes. "Whenever you're ready for them."
He offers his hand again as we head down the stairs. With a curve, the stairs give a semblance of privacy as what I assume is the living room comes into view. The fireplace lights instantly, light dancing off the deep green marble. The room is decorated in a mixture of earthy colors. Bringing deep mossy greens, blues, golds, and reds together without being overwhelming. Pictures line the mantel as well, telling a story full of love and happiness. If there was any doubt left, this home would be able to squash it out. Love permeated every square inch of the structure. He pulls me through the formal dining room into the kitchen.
"There are two doors under the stairs in the living room. A study for you and a study for me. There's the sunroom off the backside of the living room, and that covers it."
I set to making tea, searching cabinets, trying to make a mental note of where everything is located as Draco sits at the bar observing me.
"Do you like it?" He almost looks unsure.
"It's amazing. I'm honestly surprised, though. I was expecting something like the Manor. It's grand in its own way, but it's not... excessive. I love it."
I move towards him, placing my hands over his. He's rigid, and I can tell his mind is still on what he came home to even though he seems to have set it aside for the time being. He pulls me into his embrace slowly and buries his nose into my hair. His hand slides to the base of my neck, and as light, like a feather, his lips brush mine. His eyes search mine, and the kettle begins to shriek. I prepare a tray, and he levitates it in front of us as he sets off. To the right of the stairs, he opens a door. Bookshelves line the walls. They all appear to be legal texts. A large mahogany desk sits in the center of the room. The window behind my desk overlooks the backyard.
He has the tea tray set on my desk and begins to make our tea. I'm not even surprised when I find he made it exactly how I like it. The warmth of the tea relaxes me after the tragedy earlier. I shake my head, still unsure of what I thought seeing Ron would have accomplished. I love Ron, honestly, but out of all the things that are different in my life now versus then, not being with him makes sense. I guess I wanted something run-of-the-mill in a life that is entirely different from what I remember.