Chapter Four
"All our lives we try to find a way back to our innocence." – Self Against City
Pleading a moment to change, Hermione slipped into her room. Breathing a bit easier, she found a comfortable sweater and some jeans (still too loose, she noted) and tried to compose herself in front of the mirror. It was as if she was staring at a stranger. Unpinning her hair slowly, Hermione tried to find some trace of the woman she'd been before Draco. But it was hard. There was a glow to her eyes, a flush of colour on her face, and a smile that came often and unexpectedly. The other woman had been much paler, sallow looking. Running a nervous hand through her hair, Hermione bit her bottom lip before finally stepping back out into the common area. Her flat seemed unbearably small with Draco in it suddenly. There was no place to escape his lingering gaze, no place to hide.
Taking a deep breath, she poured the tea with unsteady hands. She hadn't heard Draco come up behind her. But suddenly her back was warm from his stomach, as his hand folded over hers softly. "Let me help, Hermione."
It was a double entendre. She knew it. It took all the control she had not to let a sob at that moment. Help? Hermione Granger didn't want help. She wanted to forget. Brushing his hand from hers, she moved away, taking a tea cup with her. Her eyes avoiding his, she murmured softly, "You can't help me, Draco."
Pouring his own tea, stirring in a bit of honey, Draco turned to face her, his hands cradling the warm cup. It gave him an anchor. Blowing on it softly, he watched Hermione. "I was there when he died, you know."
Hermione stiffened. She'd known immediately whom Draco was talking of. Licking her suddenly dry lips, her eyes darted up to meet his for just a second. "I didn't know that." Deny interest. The details would be more pain, adding to already vivid nightmares, she told herself. But morbid curiosity was a terrible human fault, she knew. Setting her tea on her table with trembling hands, the clatter of ceramic the only sound in the kitchen, she whispered softly, "You should go."
"No."
Her gaze lifted to meet Draco's grey eyes. She'd expected them to be cold, hard. Impenetrable as usual. But they were oddly comforting; mimicking her own sadness on a depth Hermione hadn't thought Draco capable of. "I don't want to know."
"Yes you do." Draco set his own tea down, leaning against the counter. "You won't let go, Hermione. Don't you see what's happening to you? To those around you." His tone softened, "Surely you must. You were never dumb."
Hermione's face paled a bit as she turned, trying to avoid Draco. He made her feel again, and now that he'd brought on all those warm fuzzy feelings that she'd forgotten about, he was bringing back all the sharp painful ones that she'd desperately wanted to forget.
"Don't run, Granger." But she was gone, behind a locked bedroom door. Sliding down the cool wood, Hermione crumpled at the bottom, the tears coming silently. The door would protect her only so much though – Draco's voice was still coming, soft and level. "Voldemort was just about to kill me too, you know. He'd found I was a traitor. Potter just missed saving Weasley." Draco leaned against the door, hearing her sobs, but knowing that he had to go on. So what if he lost her? If she didn't know, she couldn't get over it, and this was about her. Not him. A worthy sacrifice, he thought to himself.
"Voldemort had been trying to get answers from him, about Potter's plan to attack. It was going poorly, to say the least." A pause. "It was you, to the last second, Hermione. Him telling me that if I made it out of this alive, I was to… help you. Because he knew you, better than I do, that's for sure. All I've managed to do is hurt you." Draco steeled himself, bracing his emotions, trying to think of the benefits of a clean break. "Ron Weasley is dead, Hermione. And you are not. There are so many people waiting for you to realize it. Including me."
Having spoken his piece, Draco moved from the door, gathered his things, and left, the sounds of sobs promising him nightmares of his own. Somehow, he knew, it would've been better to sleep with her. Because Potter was definitely going to kill him for this one.
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Hermione called in sick the next day for the first time in four years. Laying on her bed, feet flipped over the edge, her eyes blankly staring at the ceiling, Hermione tried to find the numb place in herself that she'd trusted for safety for so many years.
And she couldn't.
It was as if the place had evaporated with Draco's first genuine smile. Closing her eyes, Hermione slipped into sleep. Her dream woke her with a start, and then the tears soon followed. It'd been a long while since she'd dreamt of Ron. Admittedly, the other times, there'd been a lot less detail to it all, something her mind had conjured up to keep herself at least a little sane.
In the dream, she'd been plucking bottles from a high cupboard, standing on a ladder. All she could remember was that each bottle held a splash of memory, swirling around and around. It was spring cleaning. She'd remembered thinking that her cupboard was too cluttered, and she needed to get rid of some stuff. So some of the bottles were dumped down a sink, and others moved to a safer place. None of the memories made sense, really. Just glimpses and flashes of feeling. Ron's teasing grin and Draco's soft lips. Harry's sad eyes and Ron's cold body that no spell she'd ever learned could help. Symon's trusting eyes and Draco's hand on her shoulder. The sadness in Draco's eyes as he'd told her of Ron's last few moments… that was the memory that was most intense.
His grey eyes had been so dark at that moment, a twist to his lips that mimicked irony. A few creases in his forehead as he tried to find the right words. He treated her so carefully, and she could tell. Each word thought and planned, a design to not break the china doll. Ron Weasley is dead. Why did the words keep circling in her head? She knew that Ron was dead.
Even when she was numb, she'd known he was gone. It wasn't like he showed up at her door anymore with flowers, and she had no more incidents of coming home to find him in her bed. So why was it such a big deal now that she wasn't dulling everything down? It didn't, right? Because Ron had been dead for years.
Letting go. It was harder to do than Hermione had imagined. She'd been clinging to guilt for so many years. For not stopping him, for not practicing defensive spells with him more often, for not being a good enough girlfriend… for living, when he died. Swallowing harshly, Hermione wiped her cheeks. She hadn't realized she'd been crying. The tears had come unexpected as she remembered… and let go.
It'd taken years for her to realize that 'letting go' was a silly term people used. Because you never really 'let go'. And why would you want to? It was about accepting it, and having the strength to move on. It was about being who you could in the present and remembering, honoring them with your memories, and moving forward regardless. The pain was still there, she realized. She guessed there would always be twinges. But it wasn't crippling. It wasn't life consuming and it wasn't the end of her life.
Draco had been right. Ron Weasley was dead. Just like the others. But she was not. It was dumb of her to live her life as if she was. Slowly, calm settled in her heart that she hadn't felt in years; it seeped through her. Changing out of her pajamas, Hermione let the tranquility fill her. Already it felt as if the years past were more of a memory. It wasn't as if she'd been living, but more that she'd sat back and watched a terribly slow movie of her life pass before her. And at this point, she was tired of being in the audience.
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Draco was confused as to why Hermione had suddenly called him, insistent on stopping by. As soon as he'd managed to floo to her chimney, apprehension apparent in every line of his body, he'd been dragged to the car.
Hermione was silent as she drove, her eyes on the road and her hands relaxed on the wheel. That was good, Draco thought to himself. Somehow he didn't think she'd forgiven him, but if she wasn't hiding in her room from everything, that was at least a good sign that he hadn't completely shattered her.
When they stopped, Draco let a slow breath through clenched teeth. The memorial. He himself had donated the land for it. Swallowing has he watched her walk in, he stood his ground. He couldn't go in there. It was too much for him, and there was no way he was going to go ask for hurt. One little word from Hermione changed that. "Please."
Defenses crumbling, he stared back at her liquid gaze. Finally, straightening his shoulders out, he took the few steps towards her and nodded stiffly. Her hand slipped into his, and he could feel her trembling. "I can't do this alone, Draco." Giving him a shaken smile she led him through the pathway. There were plaques all over, quotes, statues, history, dedications. Wilted and fresh flowers alike decorated the area as Draco remembered the day it had been dedicated.
Potter had given a speech, choked up as Hermione stared at her feet beside him. The Weasley girl had been at his side, pale as a sheet. Draco had remained calmly blank as he listened, trying to ignore the list of names announced. There were too many people on it that he had worked closely with, too many that he had never had a chance to say goodbye to.
Unconsciously, he flexed his arm, feeling the pull of the scar tissue from where his Dark Mark had been. Gritting his teeth, he focused on the plaque before them. Hermione had slowed, trembling as she approached it. Her hand grazed the cool bronze lightly as Draco read over the inscription yet again, as he'd been the one to help oversee all the metal work.
"Ron Weasley, aged 19. Remembered fondly by many, and missed by more." Below the large print was more, going on about Weasley's family and those he left behind. Her hand still on the plaque, Hermione whispered under her breath, her other hand squeezing Draco's gently.
"Rest well, Ron."
A/N: Okay. Fixed a few errors that a few reviewers have pointed out. I admit fully to the fact that I write this story after doing nine hour days and lacking sleep. XDD I have the epilogue written, and I'll probably upload it tomorrow. So. Enjoy. =D