Hello! I'm so glad you guys liked this fic. With thanks to Ditte3, Danikae, Dancing-Souls, and BlackHeartIce. To the guest who wrote "Vomit Alert", I don't fully understand why you would write that and I hope you can explain it for me. As for Hermione being a moron, I hope that everything will be fully explained in this chapter. If you have questions, you can ask me in the reviews.
I may only update a chapter every week, what with my busy schedule and all, and I'm sorry for leaving you guys hanging for such a long time. As an apology, here is a 'sort of' long chapter! Yay!
Disclaimer: No profit is made from this story, excepting my happiness at seeing you guys' reviews.
Chapter 2: Five Months Later
Hermione was up to her neck in preparations for the wedding, but she didn't know if she really wanted it at all. At first, when Ron had proposed, she had agreed, just like a fool.
Because she thought she could still love him.
After all his harsh words, their fights and her tears, Hermione felt the bond of friendship underneath. And she didn't want to lose that friendship. She was scared. What if she refused him? Would they still remain friends? Would he keep trying to persuade her? Or would he cut off contact with her completely, shutting her out from his life?
She hoped not. A piece of her heart would just break and never return.
If she had known for certain that they could remain friends if she refused him, she would have done so without a second's regret, but she did not know the Ron now. The Ron she had loved was open and easily readable, and treated her like a queen, and she treated him the same. That was what she had loved best about him. That was what had kept their relationship steady at the beginning.
She thought that, if she married him, they could build something more from the bond they shared. Maybe they could start off by trusting each other, and finally love each other. But the longer time she spent with Ron, she could see that her dreams were never to happen, just a fantasy.
She hardly even saw him anymore. He sometimes just disappeared, never helping with the wedding even thought he was the one who proposed. He returned home late at night citing late Quidditch lessons as his excuse. He sometimes stank of beer, and sometimes he didn't come back.
Hermione tried to ignore the niggling feeling in the back of her mind, and told herself that Ron would never cheat. He said he loved you. He said it. He loves you.
Hermione brooded as she slipped her professional work robes over her head. She was going to meet with Draco Malfoy today. Yes, Draco Malfoy. It turns out they needed a wedding planner. As if Hermione could handle it all without help. His company dealt with businesses of all kinds, from the shipping of Fire Crabs as pets to wedding planners.
She stared at herself in the mirror. Still the same, maybe a little thinner than before that fateful day in Diagon Alley, and black circles under her eyes. She cast a glamour on herself (she didn't want to seem stressed) before sighing heavily. Hermione couldn't suppress the feeling of butterflies in her stomach.
"Malfoy Industries!" she shouted as the warm green fires of the Floo engulfed her. Nausea crept up her stomach as she spun before throwing her arms out to prevent herself from falling.
She had arrived in- Draco Malfoy's office, albeit not very gracefully.
She stumbled out of the fireplace, dusting off her robes and looking around curiously. A floor-to-ceiling window, complete with comfortable windowseat took up the right wall. Shelves and bookcases took up the rest of the space, and a mahogany desk stood proudly in the middle of the office, sheets and sheets of paperwork stacked neatly on top of it.
It was here that she saw the person she was to meet, and she flushed red at once. Cool and collected as ever, Malfoy sat back in his elegant chair, feet propped up on the table. He was reading a book.
As he seemed not to notice her, she peered curiously at the cover. The Complete Handbook of Potions.
Ooh, the newest edition. She had to remind herself to buy it sometime this week.
It was not surprising, after all. He was quite adept at potions, coming second to her in class even without Snape's blatant favouritism.
Finally, he looked at her.
A blond eyebrow arched gracefully, and Hermione found herself blushing and her heart skipping as she realized that while she was positively slavering over his book, she was also unconsciously staring at him dreamily. What else she could do when his handsome, finely chiselled figures were within two metres of her was beyond her. She righted herself.
"Malfoy."
"Granger. Please, take a seat."
She sat down stiffly in his comfortable leather chair as he swung his legs off the table and placed the book carefully on the bookshelf nearest him. She tried not to swoon at his actions. Caring for a book, what a turn on.
"So, you're here for a wedding planner for your wedding with the Weasel, am I right, Granger?" he asked, sneering slightly when he uttered Ron's nickname.
"Yes, Malfoy," she said, ignoring the blatant misuse of Ron's surname. "I would prefer if we were more civil to each other, though. All for the purpose of working together smoothly, of course."
"Agreed. To do so, however, you should call me Draco."
"Then I would insist that you call me Hermione."
"Very well, Hermione." She shivered slightly as her name rolled off his tongue. They sat in awkward silence for a while before an uncomfortable Hermione broke it.
"So, I gather that you can provide a wedding planner for me?" she asked.
"Yes. You can have a look at these files and pick which one you would prefer to help you with your wedding," he said, moving a stack of files and placing them in front of her. As she began to flip through them, he leaned over slightly to point out something.
His scent and his closeness to her overwhelmed Hermione, and millions of butterflies started to flutter in her stomach. She blushed slightly as his voice filled her ears, expressing something that she could not possibly hear. Oh, how she hoped that he would lean over and…
"Hello? Granger? Hermione? Are you okay?" A hand waved in front of her, jolting her out of her stupor. Flushing red, she shook her head, embarrassed. "Nothing, nothing, Mal- Draco."
"If you say so." Suddenly, he leaned forward, and there was an almost sincerely worried look in his eyes. Well, she said almost, because she knew how many masks he could put on in a span of about two point seven seconds.
"Has Weasley been treating you right?"
Now, that was certainly unexpected. Why did he want to know? Did he truly care for her, or did he just want to know for his own unscrupulous reasons?
She hoped it wasn't for the latter reason. She responded anyway, to keep up with her image.
"Um, of course! Draco. I accepted his proposal, after all." She laughed weakly.
"I know, Hermione. Just… if he was seen with another witch, it would create a great scandal, right?"
Word after unexpected word fell from his lips, muddling up her mind. She didn't know what to think. She tried hard to believe Ron was faithful to her. Of course he was… no one had any proof, after all.
"What do you mean, Malfoy?" She forced out, trying to banish the tears forming in her eyes.
"I know you know that he isn't being faithful to you. Stop trying to lie to yourself. If you think there isn't proof-"
She couldn't stop the flow of tears anymore. Hot, wet drops trickled down her nose and her cheeks.
A little surprise registered in her muddled mind. Draco Malfoy seemed almost caring, and about to panic. How different from his usual cold, detached manner.
He walked over to her.
"It's okay, Hermione. If you want, you can write me any time you like-"
She stood up suddenly, pushing her chair back. Tears ran down her cheeks as she looked at him and turned away.
"I think I'll just pick," she blindly flipped through the files, "Veronica. I'm sorry. I just remembered I have somewhere to be."
Hermione rushed to the Floo, barely managed to choke out her flat's address before being engulfed in green flames.
"Hermione, wait-"
She managed to hold herself in as she travelled through the Floo, collapsing into tears just as she tumbled out of her fire. She lay on the floor, despair taking over her thoughts as her tears dampened the cold tiles.
She didn't know how long she lay there, Draco's haunted silver eyes floating in her mind, his words repeating and repeating in her head.
"If you think there isn't proof-"
She heard footsteps. How odd, she didn't notice the door opening.
Voices called her name, but she felt too weak to answer. They would find her eventually.
The voices came closer, and the blurry shapes of Ginny Weasley and Pansy Parkinson swam into view, expressions of shock on their faces.
She vaguely remembered inviting them out to lunch today.
After the war, she and Pansy had become good friends. She liked the witch's sharp wit and dry humour, and her passion for freedom. That was also why she was currently in a relationship with Harry as in Potter. The couple were happy with each other, and Hermione couldn't see why it wouldn't be that way.
However, Ron refused to make friends with any Slytherins, prompting a month long of cold silence between the two good friends, before they finally came to an understanding and held each of their meetings separately.
Ginny was also one of her good friends, and her relationship with Blaise Zabini had been going swimmingly since Pansy introduced them. As expected, Ron didn't approve at all, so Ginny never brought Blaise to her family's infamous Sunday lunches. Pansy, Ginny and Hermione went out together regularly, and had become inseparable as sisters.
Hermione felt herself being helped up onto the sofa, and her head was rested against- was that a pillow or a shoulder? She drifted off into the sweetness of sleep, lulled by her friends' comforting presences.
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