Chapter 5:

Mistakes

Three Days After The Battle Of Hogwarts

The house was dark when Draco apparated outside Hermione's gate. He'd done in numerous times in the past, but this time he was more than slightly tipsy, having had a few strong drinks at a pub. Draco had needed the drinks after he saw the paper that morning. It was true, it was all true, but he didn't need a reminder.

When he'd arrived at Greengrass House the morning before, the house elf answering the door announced that no one was home. The hall where he stood, being informed of this fact, was bustling with house elves, cleaning. House elves roaming the house clearly indicated that no Greengrass was home. They were terrible to the elves. Draco spent a few hours travelling to and scouring their other nearby homes, but to no avail. It was in a fit of exasperation that he apparated to Malfoy Manor, where his mother was, coincidentally, having lunch with the family of his intended.

Invited by his mother to take a seat and join them, he hadn't gotten a word in edgewise, try as he might. After drinking some of the tea offered by Astoria, however, his worries had drifted to the back of his mind. Draco had somehow found himself agreeing to a party, an announcement, a wedding. He was smiling at Astoria, his lovely fiancée, he was kissing her at the behest of his mother. But something felt wrong, felt off. There was a tiny part of him that didn't want to do these things... but why?

Awakening in the morning, Draco was aghast at his actions. What the fuck had been going through his mind. Why hadn't he shouted to everyone that he wasn't marrying Astoria, that he wanted to marry Hermione, that... Astoria had drugged him?

"A light acquiescence potion," she told him at breakfast in his mother's house. "You seemed agitated."

The whole Greengrass family was now in residence, it appeared several minutes later, as Daphne arrived looking worse for wear. He almost asked where Hermione was, but he knew. He knew where she was. She was home. She wasn't there. He'd never fixed things, he'd never gone to tell her it was all okay.

He'd ruined everything.

He was a fucking idiot.

If Hermione never forgave him, he would deserve it.

The newspaper, added to this distress, did not create a pleasant situation in the Manor. Draco was fucking pissed. The Greengrasses, surprised by his animosity toward their daughter and the marriage union, sat agape. Astoria fumed. Narcissa frowned, concerned. And Daphne sat with her head in her hands, the noise of the room too loud for her hangover.

So, after more than a few drinks, Draco arrived at the Granger house. But, unlike his usual visits, the gate wouldn't open. No spell, no physical exertion would open the gate.

She'd locked him out.

Out of her garden.

Out of her house.

Out of her heart.

He returned two days later, a bouquet of white roses in his hand. This time, the gate was open, a more welcoming sign. Perhaps she'd forgiven him. No, that was unlikely. Why in Merlin's name would she forgive him? The blue curtain in the living room twitched as he walked up the short path. She was home, at least.

The door swung open before he reached it. Hermione was standing there, more beautiful than ever. Her curly hair was pulled into a ponytail and she wore a red t-shirt and denim shorts.

"What are you doing here?"

Draco grimaced, "I'm here to apologise. I meant to call it off, I meant to come and tell you, but I... I wasn't myself and I agreed to things I wouldn't have, under normal circumstances."

"You were drunk," Hermione stated, sighing.

"No, I was drugged."

Her head shot up, a worried look plastered across her face, "Drugged?"

Draco nodded, "Acquiescence potion."

This was followed by a scoff.

"That's barely drugging. It just makes you slightly more amenable to your less conscious thoughts. You were obviously considering marrying Astoria somewhere in your mind," she replied sadly.

"I want to marry you!"

"I want to be happy, Draco. This..." Hermione gestured in the air between them, "...isn't working so well. It's not making either of us very happy. Maybe marrying each other in this mess would worsen things. We'd be less happy, if that were even possible. It's not working, as you clearly showed me by your actions last night."

Draco wanted to deny it. But he could see the dark rings under her eyes, ones that he knew he also sported. Her colour was off, more grey than pink. "I love you. I want to try to fix things between us."

"You know I love you, but you're engaged to Astoria. We both know you must, at some point, have been seriously considering marrying her. If you love me, or if you love her, we should just forget this before things get worse and hearts are broken," she began to shut the door.

"No!"

"Goodbye, Draco."

He stood on the step, his face blank, for several minutes, before falling to sit on it. She couldn't just shut the door. She couldn't just walk away from him. It was a small mistake, he wanted to fix things. It wasn't like he was cheating.

But he was.

He was cheating. He'd been cheating on his relationship with Hermione by forgetting about and keeping secret his engagement to Astoria, and he was cheating on Astoria, who he didn't particularly care about, by loving Hermione.

It wasn't a small mistake. It was a big one.

He'd majorly fucked up.

But, Draco thought as he sat, left alone by the only woman he'd ever loved, he would do his best to prove that he was sincere in his apology, in his promises. Whether it took a day, a week, a month or a year, he would show Hermione Granger that he loved her and that one day they would be together.

Present Day

By the next morning, Hermione was more calm about the situation. So what if he was dating Astoria, as Ginny had later informed her. It had been years since her failed attempt at a relationship with Malfoy. So what if Astoria was the reason they had broken up. She was happy with her life now. She was over him. She had a beautiful child, whose parentage she chose to ignore most of the time, and she was happy with her life.

It was the surprise that had thrown her off, she realised. The fact that the tightly woven lies about Alec's parentage were coming undone because she couldn't keep her mouth shut about a relationship she was totally over.

She'd seen him twice. They'd spoken. It had been years since she'd thought about Draco Malfoy. She was over him. She wasn't distraught over their relationship. But seeing and hearing about the little things, his new relationship with Astoria, his teaching Alec how to fly, his cold treatment of her. She'd needed time to acclimate to seeing him again, to hearing about his life.

Draco was now dating the reason they'd broken up and Hermione was actually fine with it, after she'd gotten used to the idea. She had no reason to worry about Draco Malfoy, except for the tiny issue that he was the secret father of her son and one day soon, Hermione knew he was going to figure it out.

Draco and Astoria were having lunch with Ginny, Harry, Ron and Pansy. James was at the Burrow with Molly, and the group were at a new restaurant just off Diagon Alley. Ginny glared baldly at Draco, Hermione's revelation about their past still extremely fresh in her mind. He was doing his best to ignore the redhead's anger, but it was difficult when she sat directly across from him at the table. Adding to this, Astoria was in the bathroom, and Harry was standing talking to Oliver Wood, who sat a few tables away with some friends. So Draco was forced to finally turn his gaze on Ginny.

Raising an eyebrow, he asked, "What is it?"

"I think you know," she replied, darkly, still glaring.

"I really really don't."

"Oh, yes, you do."

"Hermione, I assume?"

"You assume correctly. She told me everything yesterday. Everything."

A flash of surprise crossed Draco's face, "She only just told you?"

"And when would she have told me? During the war? In the five and a half years she spent in Australia, hiding from you?"

"She wasn't, she wasn't hiding from me. She broke up with me. I tried to fix it, I tried to visit, but the gate blocked me out. So, I sent letter after letter for months. She never responded. Six months after Hermione ended it, the gate stopped rejecting me. Maybe the spell faded away, or the gate got accustomed to me, I don't know, but I went inside, and she was gone, everything was gone. Everything personal was gone."

Ginny, who had been periodically gasping throughout his story, looked directly into his eyes, her anger gone, "You have to tell Hermione. You have to tell her. No one else knows, except maybe her parents. No one. Tell her. I have a feeling she has some things to tell you, too."

"But-" He protested.

"Go to her."

Ten minutes later, Harry sank back into his seat next to Ginny, "Where'd Malfoy go?"

"Draco had some business to take care of. He said not to wait for him."

"And Astoria?"

"Who knows. While eating lunch, or delicately sipping her white wine, she probably mussed her make up and has spent the last fifteen minutes trying to fix it," she replied with a shrug. When Harry shot her a look, telling her that it was slightly mean of her to say that, she relented. "I'll check on her."

Astoria sat on the little sofa in the bathroom, examining her nails. She was a very attractive woman. Her long dark hair was naturally straight, a trait for which many women would kill, her skin was very light, and she had long legs. For Hermione's sake, Ginny hated the woman, although she still envied her body. The woman was horrible and, having heard Hermione's description of her actions five years previously, Ginny really just wanted to hex her.

"What's wrong?" She offered, instead.

Astoria looked up, a frown on her red-painted lips.

"I cheated on Draco last night," she said, matter-of-factly. "He's nothing like I thought he would be. He won't shag me. When we kiss, I can tell he doesn't love me. I've loved him for years... and nothing."

Ginny was surprised at the outburst from the usually polite, guarded woman, but replied in kind, "Five years ago, when you thought you loved him, you went about it the wrong way by drugging him, and he'll never trust you again because of that. He didn't want to marry you, and you practically forced a public engagement. I wasn't privy to either of your thoughts at the time, but I've read the papers. He called it off privately only a few days after it was announced, and publicly a few months later. He never loved you, and from the way you acted, I doubt you actually loved him. Astoria, you should break it off before things get worse, before he finds out from someone else."

"I know, I just... I thought if I hid, I could avoid the subject until we're in private," she said, sheepishly.

"He's gone. He left ten minutes ago. We've had our lunch, you can go home. Break it off with Draco," Ginny advised. "If neither of you are that into it, it'll just end badly anyway."

Hermione sat on the floor just inside the front door of her house. The night they arrived, she'd stumbled, before kicking the pile of letters aside. Now, she was opening them, one by one. She'd sorted them into piles. She could tell the writing of ones from her friends, and had read those first. They were just casual missives, how are you and we should catch up sometime. But, in her sorting, there was a growing pile on her left. The writing was vaguely familiar, and Hermione knew she had seen it somewhere, but couldn't place it. Each was dated on the front, and she opened the first.

Dearest Hermione,

I know you probably hate me with the fire of five thousand suns right now. I deserve it. I was so bloody stupid. I shouldn't have sit down, I shouldn't have drunk any tea (my ultimate downfall). I should have stood up, proclaimed my love for you and the end of the stupid engagement to Astoria, and left. But I didn't. I was an idiot. I was more stupid than Crabbe and Goyle, if that is indeed possible. But I did it, and I'm so very very sorry.

I called it off officially yesterday. I went to Mr. Greengrass' home office and we had a chat. He has some disgusting views on muggleborns, let me tell you. Had I not already decided to marry you, I would have dumped Astoria just on that basis. But I told him I was in love with this brilliant, beautiful, talented witch, and I couldn't marry his daughter. He seemed relieved. Apparently not everyone wants an Order member in the family.

I do, though. I love you, Hermione, so much. The last time I saw you, I sank down onto your step and cried. Cried. I never cry, you know that. When my father was killed, I didn't cry. I didn't cry when we realised the war was over. I didn't cry, although I wanted to cry happy tears, when you told me you loved me for the first time. But I cried when you told me that it was over because I couldn't imagine my life without you anymore. I still can't imagine it.

You're such a huge part of my life now, and I don't know how I can keep going without you in it. I love you, and I will keep writing until you respond.

Love, Draco

There were at least eighty more letters, spanning the following six months. Hermione steeled herself and began reading, tears already in her eyes. Thank Merlin that Alec was at the Burrow, she wouldn't want to have traumatised him, because an hour later, she was sobbing uncontrollably.

Hermione hadn't known. She hadn't known any of this. He'd been in the wrong but he loved her. He'd written to her every two to three days for months. And she hadn't known. She wanted to go back in time, find Draco and wrap her arms around him. The later letters were more heartbreaking than the first. He was slowly losing hope, but vowing never to lose it fully. The last one had been bulky, not only containing a letter, but a dead white rose.

Who knew what had caused him to stop the letters, though. Hermione froze. A dead white rose. She dashed up the stairs, and ran into the spare room. The dead white rose still sat on the dressing table. That was what had happened. He'd finally found a way in. He had seen that she was gone. He'd trashed it, because his hope had run out. Hermione had left, and she hadn't said a word. She hadn't read his letters. There had been no hope left, so, in a fit of desolation, of anger, of heartbreak, he'd destroyed the only thing that he could think of that remained of their relationship. The room where they'd spent so much time together.

But he didn't know, Hermione thought to herself, he didn't know that he'd left with me another reminder of their relationship. He hadn't known that she carried his child. He hadn't known and he still didn't know. Merlin, there was a conversation she didn't want to have. So many conversations she didn't want to have with the man she needed to talk to.

There was a knock at the door.