The next morning, her limbs felt like they had gone through a marathon. Her mind was sluggish and her body lay heavy on her mattress, as though gravity had increased overnight.
The previous day's events flooded back into her mind and she winced as though it were physically painful. Her tear ducts felt woefully sore, they felt like they had been wrung dry and left to crack in the sun on a summer day.
Harry would have already left for the Ministry and Kreacher was most likely in the kitchen. He made breakfast, lunch, and dinner every day for her (only dinner for Harry), and Hermione had the distinct impression he had enjoyed her company even when Harry was gone. Though his face would often be a frown and his general demeanour remained grumpy.
Hermione didn't want to see anyone, human or elf right now. And the thought of breakfast made her stomach churn, like her body were rejecting the day. She wished she didn't exist for a moment, just so she could rest without her mind overworking itself into oblivion. She sank beneath the covers and groaned in frustration, almost screaming into the pillow.
Draco Malfoy loved her.
After failing to shut her mind off and to fall back into a lazy sleep, she rolled off the bed and went about her usual morning rituals. It was then she remembered her need for a walk in the nearby countryside and she smiled at the thought. Outside looked lovely, the spring air was warm enough that she shouldn't feel hot nor cold, and wouldn't need a spell to regulate her temperature. She clasped a book in her palm to read on Muggle magical ingredients and didn't go to the kitchen, promising to herself that she would apologise to Kreacher later.
Wind whipped Hermione's hair around her face, but she didn't mind. The sun warmed her skin even as the breeze cooled her, it was perfect harmony. Tiny clouds dotted the sky, but none of them skimmed the sun and allowed the bright light to darken the sparse freckles on her skin.
When at last she reached the edge of the village and the countryside sprawled before her, relief sagged her shoulders as she allowed herself to be wrapped in a form of comfort that wasn't leather-bound magical texts. And ink. And an open field hardly had the smell of a mossy, earthy forest.
She shook the straggling reminder of Malfoy from her mind and walked forward, her beaded purse hanging from her hip where she had attached it to the loop of her jeans.
A tree, wide and shady, sat atop of a hill. With her book in hand now, she settled against the bark and let her fingers brush the pages delicately, as though it were alive. She read until her stomach protested against her decision to leave without eating, and, finally, looked to the sky to enjoy the blue before her stroll back home.
She felt better. Put together enough for normal interactions with beings without it seeming like she was about to mentally break and word vomit everything back onto any unweary, unlucky person.
Upon opening the door at Grimmauld Place, Kreacher eyed her carefully from the corridor that led to the dining room and kitchen.
"I'm sorry Kreacher. I needed some air. I hope I didn't ruin your breakfast." Hermione said as kindly as she could, hoping he understood that she was sorry. Kreacher retreated with an indistinguishable grumble into the kitchen and Hermione followed, prompted by the growl of her stomach.
The kitchen was clean and empty. She felt relieved that Kreacher hadn't wasted any effort on her, but her stomach groaned in protest. And she would rather he didn't cook a meal for her now, because she could practically see the cloud over his head.
Returning to Diagon Alley so soon wasn't something she wanted to do, but the lure of buying a present for Kreacher and food was too great. There was a pie that the Leaky Cauldron made that sounded particularly delicious right now. Kreacher had somehow vanished from the kitchen anyway, and Hermione thought maybe he had recused himself in his cupboard.
She gave herself a quick self-assessment and with some bartering, she was convinced a trip to Diagon Alley would be achievable. If she simply went to Diagon Alley and the second hand place she vaguely remembered without any sidetracking and keeping her head down, she would manage it.
The trip to Diagon Alley was blessedly Malfoy-less as she didn't see him when she walked the cobblestone pathway to the Leaky Cauldron and then to a second-hand shop for a little pouch for Kreacher, so he would have a safe place to keep his trinkets.
It was as she was stuffing the little pouch through the mouth of her purse that she walked headfirst into someone's chest.
The smell of leather and parchment with ink and magic swirled around her and she felt her heart skip a beat then speed up all at once. She looked up and met his eyes before she retreated as quickly as possible. She had opened her mouth to say sorry, couldn't quite manage it, then walked in the opposite direction.
"Shit, shit, shit!" she muttered as she quickened her pace.
"Hermione!" Malfoy called after her, a tone of plea she had never heard from him before. Her feet betrayed her and faltered for a moment before she willed herself forward. She was aware she was acting like a child. But she couldn't face him.
"I'm pretending you don't exist!" she called over her shoulder. She thought she heard a laugh.
"Wait, please." he sounded closer now.
She was back at the Leaky Cauldron, the brick wall solid before her, and before she could tap her wand to that particular brick so that it could open, he was behind her.
"Hermione-" Hermione thought he sounded winded. Her back remained to him. "Granger. Please."
She had no choice really and turned to meet his gaze; she would have to be an adult and face him. His eyebrows were furrowed slightly. He held out his hand, a letter enclosed in his fist.
"I came to the post office- my owl is out- I was about to mail this to you." Hermione saw her name scrawled in elegant writing and sealed in a dark green wax at the fold. His hand shook, but his grip was delicate. She took it from him and then looked up again as relief spread across his face.
"Please, read it?" Again, Hermione heard the plea in his voice. Like a desperation or need for her to understand. It was curious, the effect it had on her. She nodded and he inclined his head slightly before he turned on his heel and disappeared into the bodies that crowded the Alley.
After a couple minutes, she thought it was safe to assume he had gone and she would be able to apparate home safely. It was a longer walk than she cared for to the apparition point on Diagon Alley. The stiffness in her fingers from clutching the letter sent a dull ache all the way to her wrist.
It would still be a few hours before Harry returned to Grimmauld Place. Hermione left the pouch in the kitchen with Kreacher's name on a note. She hoped he would keep it and not try to return it to her, or throw it out. She decided to add in a decidedly too small script that it was intended to keep his trinkets and hoped he understood.
Finally, she sat at the desk in her bedroom with sunlight streaming through the window. She broke the seal and slipped the parchment out of the envelope, finding it heavy in her hand. Two sheets. Delicately curled letters in a controlled, thoughtful hand.
She read.
Hermione,
I won't repeat my feelings to you and worry you further about the prospect of us dating. This is not what I am writing about, so please, don't put this letter down, though, I understand fully if you chose to burn it.
This is not meant to cause you any more annoyance or worry, but to at least address the pains you have endured as a result of my actions. I know we do not know each other as casual acquaintances, I know and understand that we have been nothing but opposing forces in each others' lives. But I must ask your attention to the following subjects in this letter. You're the most logical person I have ever known, so I trust that your curiosity for the truth will hold your attention, and I have to thank you for your kindness in that regard.
You have brought to me two offenses. They are by no means equally weighted in pain. I hope you would allow me this time to explain.
Firstly, concerning Ms Weasley and Blaise and secondly concerning Theodore Nott. While one is most certainly important to you because the long term happiness of your best friend has been ruined, the other is concerning a past friend of mine, and long time acquaintance of my family's. I feel however, that because both of these things concern my current friend and past friend, I should explain myself thoroughly and hopefully to your satisfaction.
I had seen the immediate attraction and affection between Blaise and Ms Weasley. I thought she offered him every form of happiness he could be in want of, and Blaise was not a man who had expressed a want to settle or share his fortune. He, like me, thought the whole idea absurd, in regards to marriage being necessary to save the banks of Wizarding Britain.
Blaise, however, has been enamoured before. He has frequently loved people and stayed months in their company. It was however, more than a rumour in the newspaper that it was expected that Blaise and Ms Weasley would be expected to marry. It was talked about by numerous persons acquainted with the Weasley family as a certainty.
As a result of these rumours and perceptions, I observed them closely to gauge how Blaise felt, which I had noticed to be more attached than that of Ms Weasley. I had happened upon an interaction between Ms Weasley and Mr Potter and it might surprise you to know, because I do not know if you have this knowledge, that while Ms Weasley was occupied with Blaise's company on the night of the Vie Ball, she was seen in an intimate conversation with Mr Potter. It was then I perceived that she had an attachment to Potter that would ruin Blaise's chance, and in the interest of protecting his feelings, I did indeed persuade him to sever ties with Ms Weasley.
You do know her better than I ever will and my separating them was done in service of my friend. I did with all my honesty, believe her to be attached to another so that her heart would be unaffected by the parting.
It did not ever cross my mind that want of fortune was a reason for their need for marriage.
I did have to acknowledge that the lack of Weasley attendance at events where other wealthy purebloods were made to showboat, they were abysmal. Their lack of care for optics did indeed affect Blaise's reputation, though he would never say so. The Zabini name is tied into business overseas as much as here, so his relationships need to remain strategic if he were to carry out plans for his family's future.
It was that factor, as expressed by his mother, that kept him away from Ms Weasley, and not so much my suggestion that she was otherwise attached. Blaise genuinely liked Ms Weasley and had hoped to build their relationship further, regardless of any past attachment.
This does not excuse my part to play, for I am to blame for some if not most of it.
The one part I do regret was hiding from him that Ms Weasley had indeed come to tour his properties in hopes of seeing him. I kept him occupied and unaware, because I thought it would be painful for him. If he had seen her, I feared that he would have followed her back to Britain and as he, his family, and mostly his mother expressed, this might have ruined their business dealings.
I could not, in good conscience, not try to protect him and his future. As you know, we are not a well loved group, other than for our fortunes.
In this regard, there's nothing else I can say to further explain myself. If I have hurt Ms Weasley's feelings, it was unknowingly done.
As for Theodore Nott. As you would undoubtedly know, we grew up together in Slytherin. We were all family within that house. After I was arrested and questioned by the Ministry for being a Death Eater, I named my father as a Death Eater because I knew he needed to face the consequences of his actions. My father gave me his blessing to do so.
As a result, the Malfoy fortune was passed to me and my mother and I were able to continue to live undisturbed. My father and I have a strained relationship, but we still maintain it. I do not know what Theo has told you, but, what I do know that has caused his animosity toward me is as follows.
When he tried to retain his family's fortune by outting his own father and uncle, hoping the fortune would pass to him upon their arrest and sentencing, it did not go as planned. His father and uncle who would have inherited the money after Theo's own father, successfully wrote him out of the inheritance upon their sentencing.
Theo was left with nothing, and despite my efforts to help him by overthrowing their legal filings, paid for with Malfoy gold, it was given to a distant Nott relative, leaving Theo destitute. He has since blamed me and has refused my help. My help has been to get him positions through connections, positions he would have to obtain on his own merit.
He has never accepted, nor do I believe he would have succeeded.
Theo has since then, been seducing women who are easily charmed and taking from them, their money where he can get it. These were only rumours confirmed by at least one witch of my knowledge, and so I must warn you to be wary of his motives as I am sure you are fond of him.
He does have connections to the Library through the witch who often sponsors additions to the collections and I have heard him converse with people of society saying he has influence with the board.
I do not know if this is sufficient information to prove to you my motives, my reasoning, and at least the truth of the matter.
In regards to Theo, there are articles in Archives about the sentencing and witnesses for post war trials at the Ministry. I have put your name down as a whitelisted visitor, if you ever wish to peruse it. Simply so that if you do not believe my word, understandably so, you can see with your highly curious and logical mind that it is the truth.
I cannot prove his discussed actions in this letter, however, his scandalous behaviour in regards to how he garners his money. Though there is evidence I can send by owl to you, if you so wish. Compliments of my 'friend', Rita Skeeter.
You probably wonder why I could not explain any of this last night. I was not in control of my mind as I wished I could have been to explain thoroughly. I also could see that my presence upset you. I hope you can forgive me, though, I understand if you cannot. You owe me nothing.
I also understand if you believe nothing I have said, but, I know you have affection for Blaise. If you do not trust me, please, trust him and the evidence I have offered you if you ever chose to pursue it.
This was much longer than I expected it to be. You like to read, right?
Yours,
Barely Tolerable
Draco Malfoy