3.

THE YEAR THE SAVIOUR BECAME THE HUSBAND

September 5th, 2003.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, please put your hands together… for the best man."

Hermione watched as Ron stood up from the wedding table amidst polite applause, straightening his dress robes nervously and grinning down the table at her. She gave him an encouraging smile and nodded. Her shoes were too high, her cerulean dress was uncomfortably tight and her perfectly prepared hair kept falling into her eyes, but Hermione was happier than she'd ever been.

Ron cleared his throat, shifting from one foot to the other, and looking down at a scrap of parchment he held in his hand. "Hey everyone, I'd, uh, like to thank you all for being here today, especially those of you who knew I'd be saying a few words… It's very touching that you still decided to come. Cheers."

Laughter rippled through the crowd and Hermione giggled. She looked at Isobel who was sitting next to her and received an impressed nod. Hermione grinned in response. Only she knew how nervous Ron really was about this, how nervous he'd been for the past three weeks, trying to write this speech, trying to make it meaningful.

He continued, looking buoyed by the laughter, "I think Harry's just one of those guys who confuses everyone he's close to. Sorry mate. But you're the most arrogant git I've ever met… By the same token though, you're also the most humble. Now, I'm not great at compliments. But I reckon if anyone deserves a compliment, it's you. Not just because of everything you've done for all of us, the strength you've wielded like a weapon against our enemies, but also because you're just a top bloke.

"I wanna encourage everyone here to think about that for a sec. If there's anyone on the planet who deserves to have a good old fashioned tantrum, it's this guy. But he was never like that. I mean, sure he had his moments, but I've never once heard Harry say, 'I give up' or 'I can't do this'. I'm glad my sister gets to marry someone like that. Who'll stand by her even when shit gets hard. She deserves that. And anyway," Ron grinned wryly, "am I really alone in thinking she's been waiting long enough?"

A great cheer erupted from the crowd and Hermione stuck her fingers in her mouth to whistle loudly along with everyone else. Harry buried his head in his hands while Ginny smacked him playfully on the arm.

"I mean, how long did it take you mate? Four years? My little sister always was persistent, but even that's stretching it a bit." the crowd roared with laughter. Ron waited patiently for it to die down before his face turned solemn. "On a more serious note, I wanna say something to you Ginny… Look after him, yeah? I know that's mixing up the traditional gender roles a bit but whatever. He needs it sis. You know that. Look after him. Please."

He and Ginny shared a look for a moment and Hermione noted the tears in the younger woman's eyes. Ginny put a hand on Harry's shoulder and squeezed hard, pulling his face to kiss her. It was such a tender moment, so full of pain and memory and love that she felt almost embarrassed watching its rawness.

Ron smiled warmly and raised his glass of champagne. "To the bride and groom!"

Hermione echoed him along with everyone else then joined in the applause.

Time was moving so quickly now, passing her by lightning fast, to the point that Hermione always felt like she was missing bits, important bits. Dawn worked her hard, she was at the office eighty percent of the time, and the other twenty, she was clinging desperately to her friendships, trying to keep them afloat. Stress was something that she was almost used to now. It came with the territory really. After all, her name was almost as well known as Dawn's in the legal world now, even though it had only been just over a year. Isobel had been right when she had said Hermione could that job with her eyes closed. She was brilliant at it.

But that night, over two years since Harry had first proposed, Hermione finally felt slowed, felt like the lightning pace of her life had been paused for just one night to watch this beautiful thing unfold.

The wedding was gorgeous, moving, everything that a wedding should have been and Hermione felt honoured to be involved. Even though she'd spent the better part of it pretending she wasn't crying like a child. Thankfully, she had not been burdened with the duty of being the maid of honour, that position had gone to Luna, but she was happy to stand at the altar with the couple as a bridesmaid along with Isobel, Susan, Padma and Juliet opposite Ron as Harry's best man and Blaise, George, Draco, Neville and Eli as his groomsmen.

All around her at the reception shone faces she knew, faces from her past and her present. Teodora, their old Defence teacher was there looking just the same as she always had, as were all the other teachers from their years at Hogwarts, Professor's McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout, and Hagrid, who cried even more than Hermione through the service. What looked like the entire Auror department was there too, as well as several other Ministry employees and pretty much everyone who'd been at Hogwarts during Ginny and Harry's time there. It was a large wedding, to say the least, so big it needed to be moved out of the Burrow's back garden and up into one of the glowing golden fields nearby. But Hermione liked it better that way, up on a hill, looking out over the world.

Hermione stood as the wizard who'd presided over the wedding ordered everyone to their feet so that the dance floor could be cleared. Just as they had during Bill and Fleur's wedding over five years previously, the many tables rose into the air and drifted to the sides, leaving a wide open expanse of grass which swiftly covered itself with a gleaming golden dance floor. The walls of the marquee disappeared and a collective gasp filled the space as the sunset poured into the tent and shone over the assembled guests brilliantly.

Ginny and Harry timidly walked hand in hand into the empty space for the first dance as the guests gathered in a circle around them. Ron draped an arm around Hermione's shoulders as George and Juliet appeared at her side, accompanied by Blaise, Luna and Dean.

"Know what song they picked?" asked George quietly, with a look of wry trepidation.

"Not a clue." Ron replied, mirroring his brother's expression.

"It was all very hush hush." Luna put in. "Ginny wanted it to be a surprise."

"That doesn't sound very promising, knowing her tastes." George grinned.

The music began to swell from a stage close to the dance floor where a rather shabby looking band were playing and Hermione clapped her hands over her mouth in an attempt to stifle the laughter that was threatening to erupt from her at the song choice. Only Harry and Ginny would choose something so unbelievably cheesy and sentimental.

"When you're close to tears remember,
Some day it'll all be over,
One day we're gonna get so high.
And though it's darker than December,
What's ahead is a different colour,
One day we're gonna get so high…"

"Hermione! Fucking hell!" Ron hissed in her ear, trying to hold on to his own laughter. "At least try to hold it together!"

"Good lord…" said George with a groan. "It's awful!"

"Oh, I think it's sweet!" Juliet said giddily, tears building in her eyes as she watched the happy couple begin to sway across the dance floor.

"I'm just waiting for them to break out the rain machine and the white doves…" Blaise interjected.

"At least it isn't Celestina Warbeck." Hermione said dryly and the little group shared a giggle. The tovarasi had spent Christmas at the Weasley's a couple of times now, they knew what went down.

They fell silent then, to watch the happy couple.

Harry was just as bad a dancer as he always had been, but somehow, his clumsiness was paying off. As Hermione looked about at the crowd gathered around them, she could only see misty eyes and fond smiles. She caught Isobel looking at her across the dance floor and the younger woman rolled her eyes though Bo was standing beside her trying very hard to look unaffected and failing miserably.

"Fancy a dance?" Hermione heard Blaise ask Juliet.

She laughed, "What?!"

Blaise smiled winningly, "You're a bridesmaid, I'm a groomsman, it's only right."

Juliet rolled her eyes and allowed him to steer her out onto the dance floor. They were soon followed by Padma and Eli, George and Angelina Johnson, Molly and Arthur, Isobel and Bo and Hermione's parents Nina and Barry. The floor was filling with couples. Hermione watched Dean trying desperately to lead Luna in a fairly conformist dance, but the younger woman would not be contained, her arms waving vaguely through the air around her partner.

"Shall we?" Ron propositioned, placing his hand on the small of Hermione's back without waiting for an answer and pushing her forwards.

The two of them shared a giggle when Ron picked Hermione up to stand on his feet while they danced. She was so much smaller than him that it was effortless. He twirled them about, laughing as Hermione tried desperately to hold onto him.

Only when Hermione's parents passed them and her mum hissed good naturedly, "You two! This is the first dance! Show some respect!" did they stop.

After what felt like a lot longer than necessary, the band continued playing the same painful song with what appeared to be no intention of finishing any time soon. The singer was only just reaching his peak, it seemed.

"Holy hell," Hermione whispered to Ron hopelessly, "Will it ever end?!"

He craned his neck a little to catch a glimpse of Harry and Ginny who were still spinning about, making doe eyes at each other.

"Doesn't look like it. Don't worry, at our wedding the music will be much better." he grinned at her.

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "At our wedding, Ronald?"

"What? You have some problem with marrying me?" he demanded wryly.

"Not as such, I suppose." Hermione responded airily, "Though… You'll have to stop clipping your toenails in my room if you ever want me to actually consent to being your wife."

"Oh really?! It's your room now, is it? How long exactly have I been living in there for free then? Should I start paying rent?" he said playfully.

"Well, I didn't want to bring it up…"

Ron laughed and pinched her ass suggestively, his voice lowering, "I pay my rent in other ways…"

Hermione pushed herself up onto her tip toes and kissed him before saying matter-of-factly, "I think I'd prefer the money."

Ron's eyes widened but before he could reply with a witty retort, Blaise and Juliet appeared beside them.

"Swap?" Blaise suggested with a grin, looking at Ron, "Conversation's dried out with this one."

Juliet smacked his arm playfully.

"Sure mate, but this one's pretty dead too." Ron replied sardonically, pecking Hermione on the cheek, pushing her towards Blaise and grabbing Juliet's hand.

Hermione watched Ron spin Juliet off and disappear into the crowd, before saying, "I missed you for coffee after last week's session."

Blaise took her hand and put his on her waist. "Yeah, had to work. But I'll be back next week, promise."

"Trouble at the Ministry?" Hermione asked innocently.

Blaise laughed, "Don't be coy, Hermione, you know exactly what's going on. We've had two pretty close shaves in the last month alone. It'll turn into full scale rioting soon."

"Are the prisoners not taking to the new regime too well?" she inquired timidly. She felt bad that Blaise, Harry, Draco, Bo and Ron were all being putting through so much stress just because of her.

"I'd say they're fucking furious to tell the truth. Group therapy isn't really Lucius Malfoy's cup of tea." he chuckled.

"No, I can't imagine it would be." she responded dryly. As far as she knew, Draco's father had been the one presenting the Aurors with the most resistance.

"You think it'll work though?" asked Blaise nervously after a moment.

She tilted her head and grimaced, "Well… we knew when we were drawing up the plans that it wouldn't go down well at first. But it'll get to them eventually. The muggles have been using trauma counselling on their prisoners for years. I'm horrified the Ministry has taken this long to catch up."

"The only reason it's happening at all is because of you and Dawn."

Hermione ducked her head modestly, "A lot of other people helped out too…"

"Yeah but without your idea Hermione, it wouldn't have happened. That's a pretty big achievement. You're changing people's lives. Own it."

She beamed. "Alright. I'll own it."

"Good." he grinned back at her.

They moved in silence for a moment as the lead singer launched into yet another chorus.

"Cause we are gonna be,
Forever you and me,
You will always keep me
Flying high in the sky of love."

Hermione found herself imagining her own wedding then, a strange occurrence because, now that she thought about it, she'd never really seen herself as the marrying kind.

She wouldn't have quite as many people as Harry and Ginny had had, she knew that. But it would be at the Burrow. Molly certainly wouldn't have it any other way, and neither would Hermione. It was a beautiful part of the country.

As Ron had said too, the music would be much better. She'd play Nirvana and Bob Marley and Otis Redding and Ride. And maybe Celestina Warbeck, just to make Molly happy.

Was that what lay in her future though? Marriage? Children? A home? Hermione had been so wrapped up in her career lately that she hadn't even stopped to consider what might come next… But that was the natural progression of things wasn't it? She found herself thinking of what her home might look like, if she bought one with Ron, and what they'd call their children, how many they might have.

The most disturbing part of it though, was that she couldn't quite figure out how she felt about it all, couldn't tell if the butterflies that had suddenly invaded her stomach were fear or excitement.

"Do you think you'll ever get married Blaise?" she asked suddenly.

He shrugged, used to her random outbursts by then, "Nope. Not if I can help it. I'll die a bachelor."

She envied him for being so sure.

At that moment, the song finally ended and Hermione and Blaise stopped to cheer enthusiastically. The band looked taken aback by the positive response from the crowd, not realising that they were not receiving their standing ovation because they played well but because they had finally finished. They then struck up a more uplifting tone, playing poppy numbers rather than anything slow and romantic. It still wasn't great, but it was better than what they'd started with. Hermione spent the following four songs, happily dancing ridiculously with Blaise. It had quickly turned into a competition of sorts, to see who could make the other laugh with their moves.

Eventually though, she had to rest. With many apologies to her partner, she made her way over to one of the tables where she could see Ginny and her bridesmaids sitting, fanning themselves and drinking elf made wine.

"Oh my god… I can't dance anymore. I just can't." Hermione sighed, collapsing into a free chair.

"Ditto." Ginny responded weakly, taking a large gulp from her glass.

Susan pushed a flute into Hermione's hand. "You've got to taste this. It's fantastic."

Hermione grinned and took a sip, feeling the wine burn down her throat and into her stomach. It was fantastic.

"Look at them." Padma said suddenly, nodding over to the other side of the tent.

The girls collectively turned to follow her gaze. Hermione could see Harry standing there, just outside the marquee's boundaries with his groomsmen, Blaise, Draco, Neville, George, Eli and Ron. They were all laughing, holding glasses of wine.

"I'll be honest. I'd turn straight for any one of them." said Isobel cheekily, slurring only a little bit.

"Isobel!" cried Juliet, scandalised.

"Have you ever had sex with a man?" asked Luna, staring at Isobel with her usual intensity.

Isobel rolled her eyes. "Of course I have! But trust me, pussy tastes much sweeter."

Hermione cackled, along with the rest of the group. But she couldn't help agreeing with Isobel when it came to the boys. They certainly did make a pretty picture, all standing there looking slightly dishevelled, their cheeks glowing.

The girls fell back into conversation but Hermione did not join them immediately. She watched as Draco's eyes fell on the crowd of dancers. He grinned and winked at someone. She followed his gaze and noticed a pretty dark haired witch Hermione had never seen before smiling coyly back at him.

Eli must have noticed this because seconds later he elbowed Draco playfully and nodded towards the girl with a sly grin. Draco said something, shrugged and smiled deviously. She could see that the rest of the men had heard him because they immediately joined in ribbing Draco, laughing and slapping him on the back.

Something moved in Hermione's chest. She resolutely ignored it. Draco wasn't going to do this to her tonight. Just for tonight, she was not going to fall into that same awful feeling that always followed close contact with him. Luckily, this was the first time she'd even clapped eyes on him since the actual service itself.

Still, she couldn't help feeling just a little bit curious…

"Hey, Ginny?" Hermione asked, cutting across the group's conversation. "Who's that black haired woman dancing near Mum and Dad?"

Ginny craned her neck to catch a glimpse of her and said, "Astoria Greengrass. She's an archivist at the National Wizarding Library of Britain. Harry knows her through research for the department I think. She's nice. Why?"

"Draco just winked at her." Hermione answered without thinking. She'd been thrown by Ginny's words. She's nice.

Hermione caught the rest of the group exchanging wary glances and immediately felt stupid.

"I'm going to get some cake." she said hurriedly, seizing her glass of wine and standing up.

"They haven't served the cake yet, Hermione." Isobel's voice was low, serious, concerned.

"Well, I'm going to the bathroom then."

She did not wait for a response, simply pushed her way into the crowd, immediately losing herself among them.

For lack of anything better to do, Hermione decided to actually go to the bathroom. She could do with a moment by herself anyway.

She made off across the dance floor to the makeshift toilets that had been set up just outside the marquee. True to wizarding tradition, the inside of the tiny wooden outhouse was far more expansive and lavish.

Hermione locked the door behind her, sat down on the toilet and put her head in her hands, taking a few calming breaths.

She felt ridiculous, really ridiculous. She'd spent some time thinking about this eventuality already really, that Draco might sleep with someone else. Logically, he'd been single for three years, hadn't he? Of course he'd fucked other girls. He was Draco fucking Malfoy for god's sake. Hermione was not the only witch in the world who found him attractive. But she'd never actually seen evidence of it before.

It was all so pathetic. Why did she do this to herself? It had been the same feeling as with Ron all those years ago when they'd broken up. She'd thought he didn't love her and yet, she still felt all those things for him. It was an awful situation to be in. She'd felt pathetic then too.

If only she could just never see Draco again. Of course, over the years, it had become easier. The pain was nowhere near as bad as it once was and most of the time, she didn't notice it at all. She'd even gotten to the point where she was quite capable of happily being in his presence. But every now and then, something like this would happen and it was there all over again. Like last Christmas, when she'd received a beautiful locket from him as a gift. That had hurt. And then, just before a work dinner a couple of months ago when he'd popped round to see Harry, caught her just as she was leaving and told her she looked beautiful. She hadn't been able to concentrate for the rest of the evening.

But if he just went away and she never had to see him again, then she wouldn't have to deal with any of those situations, ever. It would be a weight off her mind.

Unfortunately though, Draco was good at his job and close friends with Harry, Ron and Blaise. So there was no hope of him just suddenly fucking off.

Hermione had to resign herself to the fact that he'd always be there.

She found herself thinking then, of what Maya would tell her to do in her present situation. The responsible thing, she realised, would be to go to him and very calmly tell him that she still found it occasionally painful to be around him, that it wasn't his fault and was entirely her responsibility, and to please be circumspect about the things he did and said.

And Hermione decided then and there that that was exactly what she would do. After the wedding obviously. Perhaps just before a session with Maya, so she'd be able to talk about it afterwards.

She was an adult now, after all, not a school girl who had tantrums. She'd talk to him. And it would be alright. She figured it was about time she actually did something constructive about it rather than just shaming herself all the time anyway.

Hermione stood up, feeling much better now that she'd resolved to fix the situation as best she could. And she couldn't hide in the bathrooms all night.

When she re-entered the party, Hermione was immediately accosted by Blaise who looked quite drunk.

"Hermione!" he cried jovially, draping an arm that held a bottle of firewhisky over her shoulder. "I haven't seen you in fuckin' hours!"

Hermione giggled, "Blaise, we were dancing together not twenty minutes ago."

"Best fuckin' dance of the night!" he cried.

"Well, I'm very flattered."

"D'you think I'm a good dancer?" he slurred.

"Of course I do! You're a splendid dancer Blaise."

"Hurrah! So're you. You're splendid all over the place, 'Mione. You're fuckin' amazing y'know that? I fuckin' love you." he said fondly.

Hermione couldn't help but roar with laughter at him. She'd never seen Blaise drunk before. He was absolutely adorable.

"Hey!" he said conspiratorially, suddenly leaning down close to her ear, "D'you think Jules would fuck me?"

Hermione clapped her hands over her mouth, giggling. Perhaps not so adorable. "No, sorry Blaise."

He looked only momentarily downhearted before his face lit up again, "Whaddabout Susan? She's fit."

"No, Blaise. Trust me, you don't want to go sleeping with anyone from the tovarasi. Shit gets weird."

"Too bad. I reckon Eli's into me." said Blaise with a sigh.

Hermione cackled. "Well, if you're up for that sort of thing, you should probably go find Charlie Weasley."

"Which one's he?" he asked, looking confused.

"The short muscley one. Lots of scars on his arms." Hermione responded. She knew Blaise well enough by now to know that though he liked people to think he was joking, he really wasn't. Blaise liked to shop around every corner. Men and women. She admired him for it.

At that moment, someone tapped her on the shoulder.

"Would you like to dance?"

Hermione's heart jumped in her chest as her eyes flicked between Blaise and Draco. She certainly had not been expecting to come into contact with him again that night, wasn't at all prepared for it. What on earth could have inspired him to ask her to dance? In three years, he'd never so much as shook her hand!

Blaise looked suddenly much more sober than he had. His eyes were boring into Draco's face and Draco seemed at once aware of it, but also trying to pretend he wasn't. Hermione turned to Blaise.

"Do you mind…?"

Blaise shrugged and smiled a smile that did not reach his eyes. For a moment, Hermione thought he seemed angry. "I don't." was all he said, before walking away.

Draco offered her his arm and led her out onto the dance floor.

Hermione knew the moment they started that it was a bad idea. The way he held her hand, the way his fingers pressed into her waist, it just all so familiar to her. And it seemed it was familiar to him too. The way he looked almost suggested that he felt like touching her entirely normal, something did every day. Only he didn't, did he? It was the first time in almost four years that he'd actually touched her, skin to skin. She had no idea how to take it, didn't know what to do other than sway awkwardly on the spot.

Her mind, as it always did, was betraying her. She was seeing two things at once; Draco standing in front of her, looking casually pleased, surrounded by other dancers… But then there was also a younger Draco, one who looked tortured, agonised, who's emotions were far more raw than she'd seen from him in a long time…

He threw his arms up over his ears and shook his head violently, "Shut up! Just shut up!"

"No, Malfoy! I will not!" she yelled, "You don't get to blame me for any of this! Do you understand?! I am not your scapegoat! Do you remember what Harry said to Voldemort right at the end? Remember? Try for some remorse, Tom. Well he never did, and he died, didn't he?! Your father didn't show remorse either and he never will! That's why he's in Azkaban and that's why he deserves to be there! Remorse is what makes us human! Your father may not have acted like he loved you, but I do! And I won't let you push me away!"

Where was all this coming from? She hadn't thought about that night in years. Perhaps it was his scent crashing over her, she hadn't been close enough to catch more than a fleeting whiff in a long time. Now it was everywhere, in her nose, in her eyes, in her heart.

The room rung with silence when she finished shouting, her last words almost visibly hanging in the air between them. The space felt strangely empty without both their voices clattering off the walls jarringly. Draco slowly moved his arms away from his head and looked at Hermione with what seemed at first to be unadulterated shock. But there was something else in the look. Desperation, hope and pain. She couldn't understand it.

Hermione tried desperately to cling onto her reality as the memory fell like a blanket over her senses. She accidentally stepped on Draco's foot in her distraction and his grunt of pain followed by his chuckle brought her back to the present.

"You're a very good dancer." she stuttered, her voice rasping. But really, he was, moving her to and fro with practiced ease.

Draco grinned, the look in his eyes speaking to her like they were nothing more than casual acquaintances, "And you're fucking terrible. Really."

"You love me?" he said quietly.

Hermione clapped her hands over her mouth, realizing then what she had said. Draco grasped her shoulders and shook her violently.

Hermione laughed uncomfortably and made a desperate attempt at conversation to veil the thoughts behind her eyes. "Your mum's coming out of Azkaban soon, isn't she?"

Draco nodded firmly. "Yep, in about six months."

"You love me?!" he shouted, a manic, desperate look on his face.

"Draco, you're hurting me!" she cried, panicking a little at his use of force.

"That's uh… really good. And… and is she doing well?" she stuttered wildly.

"I think so. We're only allowed to write but she sounds like she's pretty stable. Excited to get out obviously." Draco shrugged, watching another couple float past them. This wasn't a conversation, not for Hermione, it was all a show. That's why he was there, wasn't he?

"DO YOU LOVE ME?!" he insisted urgently, his voice gratingly loud in her ears.

"Alright! Yes!" she yelled, trying to push him away.

Hermione nodded and smiled tightly, her eyes everywhere but his face. She was scared. Scared that if she looked at him, everyone else would disappear, and it would just be them on this empty dance floor. That she would only see him as she once did.

"Say it!" he demanded, his fingers digging into her skin painfully. "Say it, Hermione!"

Hermione yanked herself out of his grip and stepped away from him, breathing hard. He stared at her, his eyes pleading, the tears now pouring freely down his face.

All her hard won composure was flying out the window, all the maturity she'd found in the bathroom only moments before. She wanted to move her hands away from Draco, didn't want him to feel them shaking. But for some reason, when he looked at her then with an air of wry amusement, she got the feeling he already knew. She got the feeling he was actually completely aware of what she was going through.

"Please." he begged.

And she hated him then, hated him for not doing anything, for forcing the words out of her all those years ago, for sitting by while she rushed on ahead of him to bring down Voldemort, to save Harry, to get back with Ron. He'd just been quiet and still. Couldn't even say he loved her. But he could beg her to say it to him.

She realised then that he was still her lover, really. He was still the lover that never wrote and never kept promises. And now he was tormenting her like a lover. On purpose. Was he really that sick?

Could she say it? Could she say those three words to Draco Malfoy? This little boy in front of her, broken, all his jagged pieces sticking into her skin, into her life. Was it worth it? After everything he'd said to her, all of those horrible, horrible things… But then what about the things he'd done? Saving her that day she forgot to take the Rusine? Pulling her from the lake? She realised then that exactly what he'd told her so long ago was true. What Teodora had said was true. Back then, she'd been the one to be claiming that she was a good person, but Draco had been showing it. And ever since, he'd been showing her that he loved her. Now, he needed her to show that she loved him too. He needed to hear her say it. And, she realised, she need to hear her say it too…

Hermione wanted to push him off her and scream at him. She wanted to go and have a good, long shower just to wash the feeling of him away. She wanted to cry.

"I love you."

It was too much. She couldn't do it. It made her hate herself but she just couldn't. Couldn't pretend like she was ok with any of this.

Hermione calmly disentangled herself from him, apologised politely and walked away through the crowd, out of the marquee and into the darkness of the night. She left the voices and the tent behind, finding herself walking in one definitive direction. The headstones were grey and almost gleaming in the moonlight. Fred's name shone up at her. As well as Tonks and Remus's…

Footsteps followed her. She hoped it was Ron. She could cry into his shoulder. She wouldn't tell him why…

"What are you doing?" asked Draco's voice, he sounded slightly amused, slightly exasperated.

She couldn't answer. If she answered, it would be with a sob. So instead, she shook her head, her eyes on the stones in front of her.

"Talk to me Hermione." a different tone then, loving, affectionate.

"I'm running." she said, her voice strangely dead and calm.

"From what?" he asked.

"From you, Draco."

"Why?" it changed again to amusement.

Her fingernails dug into her palms. The pain grounded her. "Because it hurts, alright? It fucking hurts." her voice was cracking. She tried to stop it. She couldn't. "You might have been able to… to… I don't know. Whatever you did… Forget about me. Just move on like that… You think… You couldn't say you loved me… And I don't… I don't…." and then, it became a sob. She knew she wasn't making sense, knew that he was probably confused. But she hadn't spoken about this properly with anyone, ever. It was like the words were old and dusty and in desperate need of oil to loosen the hinges.

"Hermione…" his voice was strained, disapproving, "You're with Ron. You can't say things like this to me. He's my friend…"

Hermione rounded on him, fire burning through her blood. "Do not speak to me like I'm something that's happening to you, like I'm some event that's torturing you. You think I want this? Think I like it? I hate you. And you made me like that. You made me hate." she snarled.

"You know why I did what I did…"

"No I don't! How could I know? You never fucking told me! You just walked out like I was nothing! And now you think you can just sit here, telling me what I can and cannot say to you. I knew someone once, he looked a bit like you actually. Someone who didn't try to change my feelings, someone who just liked me as I was, no matter how broken. And I liked him too, I thought he was fucking brilliant. Scars and all. Scars and all, remember Draco?"

"Hermione…" like he was chastising a child who was playing.

But once she'd begun to talk, she couldn't stop. It had all been sitting in her heart for years. She needed it out, needed to purge herself of it. The tears fell freely from her eyes.

"I lost who I was for you. I gave you my faith, my trust, my love. And you gave me nothing. You threw it back in my face. I fought for you. And where were you when it came to the fight? Where were you Draco? You were fucking silent. And… and now you're asking me to dance and you're just fucking there all the time! You're at my family dinners, you're hanging out with my boyfriend, talking to my friends! You heartless fucking bastard! Did you ever think about me?"

She was starting to get to him, she could see it. He looked like he'd bitten off more than he could chew. "I… I thought you were ok… I thought you'd moved on…"

Hermione let out a loud, cynical laugh, "You thought I'd moved on?! What a spectacular assumption. Perhaps you should have asked."

"I'm sorry! Alright?" his voice rose slightly, frustrated, angry. Was it possible that she was actually succeeding to make him feel bad?

"Your words are nothing!" Hermione snarled, her voice rising in pitch. "They always were! You're so fucking broken."

"Hermione…" now that was a different tone, almost begging, pleading. Yes, she'd hit a nerve alright. She didn't know which one but she'd hit it. This wasn't a game anymore, not to him anyway.

The fight fell right out of her voice all at once. She was tired. "Just… just go away. Please. Every time I look at you my heart tears into strips. It breaks. It shatters. Just go away Draco."

And he did.

He turned on his heel and left.

Hermione hands curled around her abdomen, holding in all her organs. She couldn't understand why it still hurt so much. He'd just walked away again and though it wasn't as potent as it was the first time he'd done it all those years ago, it certainly burst open the stitches, certainly made the wound bleed again.

Was something at least changed now though? Had she achieved anything with her outburst? Could she talk about it now, like it was something in the past? Perhaps she'd gotten to him just a little, made him think more about his actions. Now that she thought about it really, the was not the first time she'd felt like Draco was baiting her. There was always a shadow of challenge in his eyes whenever he did or said something to her that was upsetting. He pretended not to be aware, but he was. He was doing it on purpose.

But why? Why would he want to hurt her like that? She was so thoroughly sick of being in pain, so over thinking about this shit, something needed to be different.

Three years she'd been with Ron now, she needed something to change.

Hermione raised her eyes to the sky and prayed. Prayed for it to shift. Prayed to whatever was up there to give her some respite.

After a few moments of this, she turned to look back at the marquee where the reception was still in full swing, only getting louder and louder the more time passed. But she could not go back in there, not yet. It was too fresh. She wasn't ready to plaster the fake smile on her face again just yet.

Hermione made her decision and turned left rather than back. She walked down the hill, pulling her heels off her feet as she did so. And then, she ran, the wind scattering her hair about her face, pushing all the tears away, not caring about her feet or the grass, not caring about her dress or her makeup.

Chest heaving with her breath, she seated herself in the Burrow's empty garden, the music and voices from the marquee up on the hill filtering down to her vaguely, carried on the wind. Tears came and went then came again as she sat there, time filtering past slowly as she allowed it to run soothingly over her frayed emotions like cool water over a burn.

No one came to find her. Not at first.

But, after a while, she heard footsteps rounding the house and cast a swift disillusionment charm over herself. She did not want to be seen yet and she certainly did not want to have to explain what she was doing there or why she looked like she'd been crying.

Harry and Blaise appeared around the corner of the Burrow, looking spectacular in their dress robes and far more sober than the last time she'd clapped eyes on them. They must have been coming to get something from the house. She remained silent and still.

Hermione was surprised when they stopped in the middle of the garden, as if waiting for something. They did not speak to each other.

Moments later, she discovered what it was and had to fight the groan of pain and disbelief that rose in her throat. She really, really, really wanted to run. She'd rather chew glass than be sat on that bench, watching a conversation between those three.

"What's up, guys?" asked Draco nonchalantly.

"We want to talk to you." Harry's voice was not nonchalant.

Draco looked wary, "Oh, yeah?"

"You need to stop this shit with Hermione." Blaise was always one to get straight to the point.

Hermione's face fell in her hands. She was moved that they'd decided to do this for her, but just the fact that everyone clearly knew about her emotional problems made her was to, rather ironically, throw herself out of her fifth story window. Hadn't she done a better job at hiding all of it than that?

Draco laughed with an air of forced indifference, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes you do." Harry cut in quickly, "I've seen the way you look at her. She's fucked up over it, everyone knows that. Even Ron. And you know it too. Why don't you just back off, alright?"

Draco wisely recognised the underlying threat in Harry's words and then rather unwisely proceeded to get rather defensive. "Why don't you try minding your own business, Potter?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Don't give me that shit, Draco. What are you trying to do? Drive her completely fucking crazy?"

Draco scoffed. "Like that wouldn't be hard to do."

Hermione, surprisingly, did not shed new tears over this statement. She was having a moment of blinding clarity, finally seeing Draco for what he really was in that moment. And what she saw was that he was far more broken than her. It was obvious, really, silly that she hadn't seen it before. Who'd been seeing a mind healer for the better part of three years? Who'd been spending two thirds of that time solidly working on herself?

What she hadn't realised before was that Draco was actually the crazy one now, not her. She'd given up that position the moment she'd started seeing Maya. But he was in exactly the same place he was three years ago.

"I'm going to pretend I didn't just hear that." Harry growled, snapping Hermione back to reality, "Look, I like you Draco. And I want you around. But not if you're going to fuck with my best mate."

A look of understanding crossed Draco's face then. "Ah. I see what this is about now. This is about Weasley, isn't it? Not Hermione. You're just fucked off because you've noticed the way she looks at me. Sorry Potter but I can't help her infatuation."

Hermione jumped as Harry's fist cleaved through the air and cracked brutally into Draco's nose. Draco stumbled backwards, clutching his face. She sort of wanted to cheer.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" he demanded furiously.

Harry looked at Blaise. "Sorry."

Blaise shrugged. "If you hadn't, I would have." he looked back at their now bleeding friend, "You deserved it Draco."

Hermione could not help but agree.

"Fucking hell!" cried Draco, moving his hands away from his face to reveal his now slightly crooked and bloody nose, "Hermione's a big girl, alright? I can't change how she feels! What the fuck do you want me to do?!"

"Acknowledge that you fucked it! Own the fact that you treated her like shit! That you broke her heart! How about you try for some remorse, Draco!?" growled Blaise, pointing his finger at Draco's chest.

Draco looked like Blaise had hit him again.

"You can't keep walking around like nothing's happened. It might have been years ago, but you can't just pretend it didn't affect you, alright?" said Harry, making a visible effort to be calm. "She deserves more than that, Draco. For fucks sake, do you have any respect for her at all?"

"Of course I do!"

"Did you care about her?" asked Harry. Hermione's hands clutched the wooden seat under her.

Draco did not answer.

Harry went on, "I think you did. I think you still do and it scares the shit out of you because she's too good for you. So you treat her like shit, give her nothing but your indifference because it makes you feel better about yourself."

Draco looked at Harry coldly, letting no emotion but disdain filter into his expression. "Again, Potter, what would you have me do?"

"Make up with her. Say you're sorry. Tell her you fucking cared about her at least." said Blaise.

"And what exactly will that achieve?" asked Draco unemotionally.

"It will make her feel better! Jesus Christ!" cried Harry, throwing his hands in the air, clearly exasperated by Draco acting the fool.

Hermione had had enough. She could not sit by and watch this any longer. And she wouldn't be able to sit by either and listen to Draco tell her he'd cared about her when she knew that he'd been told to do it. Harry and Blaise were very sweet for trying to help like that but Draco was right, she was a big girl now…

Hermione stood and walked towards the three men, waving her wand to disperse the disillusionment charm. When they caught sight of her, walking towards them across the grass, barefoot in her cerulean dress, they fell silent, their eyes widening.

"Come here, Draco." she said. Wordlessly, he complied. She pointed her wand at his nose and said, "Episkey." before conjuring a washcloth, drenching it in water from her wand and pressing it to his face. He took it from her silently. She stepped back.

"Harry, Blaise, I'm really touched that you would stand up for me like this. Touched that you've been looking out for me, that you noticed something was wrong even though I never said a word. Though I'm sorry you felt the need to. You're true friends and I love you both.

"Draco, I'm sorry I said the things I said to you, I don't hate you and I don't want you to go away. I think you're a wonderful person, even if sometimes you do crappy things. We're all human and I understand. But what happened between us does still affect me. I don't need you to try and fix it, I don't need you to try and understand it. But it would help me if you were conscious of it, and thought about the things you say and do around me with a little more sensitivity. That would really help me." Draco looked to be on the brink of saying something, his face had softened as she spoke but she cut him off, holding up a hand, "Don't. My apology was not conditional. Just think about what I've said."

She took a deep breath and looked around herself at the three men. They were all staring at her with something that might have been awe. But they said nothing.

After a moment, Hermione cleared her throat and smiled weakly, "Harry, would you like to escort me back up to your wedding reception?"

He nodded and moved forward, following her as she made towards the boundary of the garden. And they walked away, leaving Blaise and Draco alone under the trees.

As they mounted the hill that led up towards the marquee, Harry finally spoke, his voice full of admiration and shock. "You amaze me, Hermione."

She shrugged and said sadly, "I'm just trying to do the right thing."

He suddenly stopped walking and gazed at her seriously, putting a hand out onto her shoulder, "You always do, you know. Even when you don't realise it. There's a reason you're my best friend. You've got a big heart." he said quietly.

Hermione felt tears pricking her eyes again. "Thank you, Harry."

He looked at her seriously for a moment before throwing an arm around her shoulders and saying jovially, "Come on then. Let's get back. Come have a dance with a real wizard."

A/N Ok, so I only just realised that this chapter is ridiculously long. Roughly 8000 words I think. A new record! Huzzah!