Summary: Hermione has left the Wizarding World for Muggle France. After two years of living a life without magic, two former Slytherins appear at her doorstep offering their services to be her own personal bodyguards. The past resurfaces and Hermione is reminded of what she truly is.

A/U.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

EMBERS

VII

In Draco's opinion, Hermione Granger had been an ugly duckling from the very first time he had laid eyes on her. Now, however, he wasn't quite sure whether he could still describe her as such. Because it seemed that France had transformed the ugly duckling into a swan.

The frizz had smoothened into soft waves. The stick-thin figure gained some curves. Buck-teeth straightened into neat rows. Loose robes became designer clothing. And Draco knew, from his little investigation in her closet earlier that day, that underneath that tight dress was some naughty –

What the fuck Draco?

He blinked. It appeared that he was becoming attracted to Hermione Granger.

Unacceptable!

Draco tried to push the irritating voice out of his head. Hermione was cleaning up the table, giving him a rather perfect view of her backside. He tilted his head to the side and watched. He realized that he was enjoying this.

You're lusting after Weasel King's leftovers.

"Weasley is an idiot." He muttered. He meant to say this to himself but Hermione heard it. She turned suddenly, the glass in her hand slipping from her glass. Draco was able to catch it in time, and in doing so, managed to close the short distance between them.

He could smell her sweet perfume.

"I see you've read that part." She noted, her voice wavering only slightly. There was a pained expression on her face. It was almost as worse as the night of her nightmare.

"I have." Draco acquiesced.

"Then you have two of the reasons." Hermione said without much feeling. "You still have one more."

"Like I said," Draco repeated softly. "You can tell me when you're ready."

Her head tipped up almost imperceptibly – waiting. Her eyes were unreadable. Draco unconsciously leaned closer. Weasley was indeed a fucking idiot – to exchange someone as beautiful as this.

"Draco?"

They were barely an inch apart. "Hermione."

"Are you going to kiss me?"

This was a question easy enough to answer.

"Yes."

"Do it."

His lips crashed into hers with an undetermined amount of energy. Her arms came around his neck, his hands gripped at her waist, pulling her body flush against his. Draco was heady with longing. He could not remember the last time he wanted someone so much. And he didn't even know why. It was almost as if this was meant to be. The electricity running between them was on high voltage. This was pure, unadulterated desire.

When they released each other, they were both out of breath. Hermione's brown eyes were warring with conflicting emotions. She staggered back a step, her fingers coming to rest on her lips. Draco just stood there, watching her, waiting for her to make the next move.

"There's only one other reason why I left London."

Draco said nothing. He merely waited.

She looked away.

"I got pregnant."

Hermione had been kissed by a few men in France. It was usually because she was heavily inebriated. But it didn't seem to matter that there was an unholy amount of alcohol in her system, every time someone kissed her, Ron's face would spring into her mind and she would pull back so quickly that most of the men that she had kissed would get mad. She would give out some offhand excuse about Fiona needing her, spin around and look for the nearest exit. Every single time, she had left in tears.

This was the reason why she never went on dates – not because she was a lesbian (as Fiona had so kindly put it), but because of Ron. Fucking Ron Weasley who fucked her and got her pregnant and then fucked another girl.

She pushed the torrid memory out of her mind and focused on the situation at hand. Draco was staring at her like a fish out of water. Hermione had taken an involuntary step backward. She did not know what possessed her to allow Draco Malfoy to kiss her like that. But what she did know was that during the entire time that they were kissing, Ron Weasley's face did not appear.

It was just her and Draco.

She felt free.

"I'm afraid I don't understand." Draco said looking perplexed staring with unabashed scrutiny at her stomach. Hermione resisted the urge to cover it. She went to the gym at least twice a week. She had nothing to be ashamed of.

"Ron was the father." Hermione replied, releasing a shaky breath. Not because of the memory. But because Draco had left her – winded. "The day I found out he was cheating on me was the day I found out I was pregnant. I was going to tell him that day. But apparently, he was busy."

Draco's face hardened.

"Nobody knew because I didn't want anyone to know." Hermione said, raising her chin in defiance. "Instead, I decided to leave."

She could remember that day. It was clear as daylight. Hermione grabbed her journal from her purse and flipped it to a certain page. She gave it to Draco who took it without a word.

I packed my things. Left a note to everyone who mattered: Ginny, Molly, Arthur, and Harry. I told them that my aunt in France was willing to take me in. I told them not to bother visiting me. I told them that I would visit soon – when the time was right. That I needed time to heal.

I boarded on the first plane. I was determined to leave once and for all. The Wizarding World had shattered my life. Took away my parents, broke my heart, gave me a baby that I wasn't so sure I could take care of. I wasn't ready for this.

I almost snapped my wand in half.

But somewhere in my head, Dumbledore – that old geezer whom I loved dearly and respected so much, kept whispering to keep it. So I did. Hid it behind the back of my closet. Dove into the fashion industry. Changed my appearance. Tried to move on with my life.

And then I miscarried. I was only eight weeks in. The doctors said that it was due to a genetic problem. Ron Weasley gave my baby fucked up genes. I was angry. I was in pain. I had no one to turn to. Aunt Fiona didn't even know that I was pregnant. I covered it well.


The second the word 'pregnant' had escaped Hermione's lips, Draco had been floored. And the sudden urge to hunt down Ron Weasley and rip off his head became overwhelming.

Now he knew why Hermione wanted to leave London so badly.

The news of the miscarriage was unfortunate. But perhaps fate, after seeing that she was in no state to raise a baby, decided to give her a free pass. The emotional turmoil she must have felt, however, must have been excruciating. Already, Hermione had lost four people in her life: her father, her mother, Ron, and now, her baby.

He was amazed that she was able to survive through it. But then again, she wasn't a little weakling.

"Any plans to go back?" Draco asked quietly.

"Not at the moment." Hermione replied, eyes downcast. "I miss Ginny. I miss Harry. But I – just can't. That place brings back too many painful memories."

"Have you ever considered talking to your friends about it?" Draco asked not unkindly.

"They would tell Ron. Then they'd probably try to make me go back." Hermione shook her head severely. "No. Now isn't the time. Maybe next year. Or the year after that -- "

"Or maybe never." Draco finished for her, cocking an eyebrow.

Her eyes welled with tears. "I miss magic."

Draco's eyes widened at the sight of her tears. Not again. It was nightmare night all over again.

"Is it wrong to miss something that you killed your very own parents?" She asked, blinking back the tears. But to no avail. They streamed endlessly down her cheeks. Draco was at a loss on what to do. He tentatively reached out to her and pulled her gently to his chest. She did not fight back.

"Let it out Hermione." He whispered in her ear, stroking her hair soothingly.

And so she did.

TBC


A/N: Review?