A/N: Thank you to everyone who continues to read and/or review. You all keep me writing. :)
It was a crystal-clear day out on the pitch and Draco was feeling bittersweet as he waited for Lyra to meet him for casual practice. He had come to enjoy their time together quickly; there was something particularly calming about Lyra's presence, and she was damn good at Quidditch. Ever since the breakup with Hermione, Lyra had been Draco's closest friend. And he knew that since Todd had betrayed her trust and Hermione had been distant, Lyra would say the same. But the closer it crept toward their graduation date, the more he could feel her impending marriage hanging over them.
Draco caught Lyra's shock of dark hair out of the corner of his eye and turned to call her name, but stopped as she was engaged in conversation with Charlus Potter of all people. He hadn't been aware they were friends, but he supposed there was no reason why he would be. He watched them briefly before turning his head away, feeling a bit creepy for watching at all.
Eventually he heard the sound of wet grass compressing behind him, and turned around to smile up at Lyra. "I didn't know you and Charlus knew each other," he found himself saying.
Lyra sat down next to him, seemingly unperturbed by the wet earth. "We don't," she responded simply.
"Oh, I thought I just saw you two talking," Draco said uncertainly.
"Oh, that. Yes. He wants to take me on a date."
"A date?" Draco asked incredulously. Lyra gave Draco a questioning look. "I mean," Draco backtracked, "he's with Dorea." And he thought of when he had last seen his relative and how happy she had seemed with Charlus, despite her lost memories.
"Not anymore," Lyra said mildly.
"But what happened?"
Lyra shrugged. "I didn't really get into it with him. He mentioned that Hermione opened his eyes, but I'm unsure what Hermione opening his eyes would have to do with his breakup. It's rather fortuitous as he's looking for a new contact, and as you know I'm looking to get out of mine."
"Do you think your parents would accept that?" Draco asked. "I thought there was no way out."
"For a Potter, they might release me," Lyra mused. "He seems nice; I wonder if he would let me play professional Quidditch."
Draco didn't say anything in response; his head was spinning and he wasn't sure precisely why.
Hermione was sitting in her living room reading her Potions textbook when someone began aggressively knocking the door.
When she opened it, Draco stormed past her wordlessly and began pacing the small room once he reached the edge of it. "What in Salazar's name did you do?" Draco asked.
Hermione tried to avoid looking at him. It was the first time they had been alone since she found out about the love potion, and it was a particularly draining brand of torture to feel such a strong pull toward her old flame when she knew it was manufactured.
"Look at me," Draco demanded, his voice betraying hurt.
She reluctantly looked up at him and her stomach flipped as her eyes met his fake ones. It felt fitting, being drawn to his false eyes with false affection. "What is it, Draco?"
"Why did you break up Charlus and Dorea?"
She was a bit taken aback at the question, unsure of why Draco would care. Hermione also had to suppress rising anger; the love potion was an incredibly touchy subject, especially because she was still under its influence. And she had decided that she would not tell Draco; it would hurt him too much to know for certain that their relationship was never real in this time, even if he already suspected it. "I think you're being a bit dramatic. I don't know what you've heard, but I simply gave Charlus pages from Dorea's diary that he might find illuminating."
"And what pages were those?"
Her heart skipped a beat. "I don't think I should say, Draco."
"Why?" Draco asked, still fueled by his temper.
"I don't want to hurt you," she admitted, unsure of what other excuse to give.
Draco seemed taken aback. "Hermione, tell me what's going on."
"Dorea wasn't in love with Charlus, not really. She loved your grandfather. I thought Charlus deserved to know." Hermione hoped that she could get away with not bringing up the potion.
Draco seemed to consider that for a moment. "I think there may have been something there, yes, but she loved Charlus. You should have seen them at the hospital; she seemed happier," Draco explained before turning angry once more. "She's been through enough, and for you to take that from her—"
As Draco's voice rose, Hermione could feel her barely buried rage rise as well. "She drugged me, Draco. I couldn't fucking care less if she's unhappy and alone; no, that's a lie. I hope she's miserable. She deserves everything she's gotten." A picture flashed in Hermione's mind of the chaotic scene following Dorea's attack, but she pushed down any guilt the image brought her.
Draco looked scandalized. "Hermione, I don't think I've ever heard you so… vindictive. What did she do?" Images of Rita Skeeter and Umbridge flashed through her mind at his claim, but she pushed them aside. She hadn't done anything wrong; not then, not now.
"I don't want to tell you," she repeated flatly.
"Does this have something to do with the diary?"
"Yes," Hermione replied in a tight voice. "Can we leave it there please?"
"Hermione, she was my family and she seemed to be the only person close to my grandfather. Please tell me what she did that's upset you so much; I'm hoping if we talk through it you could maybe talk to Charlus."
Hermione scoffed bitterly and had to suppress a scream. "I wanted to spare you this. But after I tell you, you'll understand why I can't be around you and why I'd like you to leave me alone for the next week and a half. And you had better understand why I won't say a damn thing to Charlus."
Draco's brow furrowed at the exactness of her timeframe, but he nodded his agreement.
"Dorea was so in love with your grandfather that she was devastated when he broke off the betrothal. She felt she might have to give herself a love potion in order to stand being with Charlus; those are the pages I gave him." Draco's mouth formed a small "o". "But she found a better use for the ingredients she had collected; giving me to you, you know, as a fucking present." Hermione wanted to deliver this news as neutrally as possible so as not to hurt Draco further, but she couldn't manage. "She slipped the potion into my drink."
Draco had turned white; she wanted to do nothing more than hold him, but she knew that wouldn't be the best course of action at present. "So this was never real?" He asked.
"Of course it was real, Draco," Hermione responded in a sad but exasperated tone, "but not lately."
"And the next week and a half," he asked, piecing it together, "that's how much longer you'll love me?"
"Draco," Hermione began. Her eyes were welling up with tears, but she couldn't separate if they were genuine or not. "You were my first love; some part of me will always love you. That's the part of me that kissed you when I finally saw you again and kissed you again in the Room of Requirement."
"But when you said you were in love with me, that wasn't that part, was it?"
He looked so stricken that she considered lying, but instead she simply said, "no, Draco, it wasn't."
"Yeah, okay," he said distractedly. She wasn't sure what he was responding to until he continued, "I'll leave you alone for the next week and a half, then." And he hurried out of the room as suddenly as he had entered it.
Hermione slumped onto the couch, letting the tears fall, unsure if they were for her or for Draco.
The next morning, she walked out of her room to find Tom in the common room, horizontal on the couch with his reading glasses on. It reminded her of the first semester she had spent in the past, when she would have curled up next to him and read with him. And she felt that eerie feeling again, where was she intellectually sad but the emotions wouldn't meet her thoughts.
Tom had looked up and was studying her as she was lost in her thoughts. She met his eyes and managed to say hello.
"Hermione," he said in greeting. "Could I speak with you for a moment?"
Hermione looked toward the door, wishing she could escape this conversation, but she reluctantly nodded and sat in one of the armchairs. "What is it, Tom?"
His words came out slow and measured; he had clearly thought through this chat. "You know, of course, that I overheard you in the library the other night when you told Charlus that we were betrothed. What did you mean by that, Hermione?"
"I believe the word I used was 'promised,'" Hermione countered, feeling a bit uncomfortable. Why had she said that? "But I suppose I was trying to get rid of Charlus. And…" She trailed off.
"And?" Tom's voice was subdued, but his eyes were melting metal.
"I think we will be together once I sort everything out, but I can't promise you anything."
Tom considered that for a moment and nodded; Hermione didn't miss the flash of triumph in his eyes even though he tried to look down to hide it.
"That is acceptable," he said simply, and with that, Hermione left the room.