Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
3rd Year
As he rounded the corner he sank against the wall, the rough stones scraping his back as he did so. His breath came so heavily he thought he couldn't breathe. He could feel the tears threatening to break free, could feel the ache in his chest as though he'd been stabbed through the heart. Shaking his head he tried to stand, only to find his legs refused to move. Rubbing his eyes he waited, silently, for the moments to pass, for the pain in his heart to recede, diminish into the night. After what seemed like hours later, he found his footing and turned back down the corridor from which he'd come…and froze.
She was still there, hands moving numbly over her thighs, eyes staring blankly across the hall, tears falling silently down her cheeks. Suddenly, the pain in his chest was back, the rush of emotion hurtling him into darkness. He had to fight the urge to run to her, apologize for everything and beg forgiveness. He had to fight the urge to scream at her and berate her and tell her she was worthless, because the truth was he'd never thought more of her than he did now. He wished more than anything that he could be her friend, someone she could trust as much as she trusted Potter and Weasley. There was so much he longed to tell her, longed to confide in her. And yet, every time he found her standing before him, fire blazing in her golden eyes, all he could do was call her names and scream at her. He hated it. Even now, as he watched her mutely weep over words he had uttered, he wished he had never spoken them in the first place.
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
4th Year – Yule Ball
She was screaming at him. At least it looked that way. He didn't want to her scream when he touched her. He didn't want her to be revolted at the very sight of him. So he did the only thing he could think of. Their hands still entwined, he yanked her forward, gripping her hard against his chest, cupping the nape of her neck and refusing to let go.
Her hand tore out of his as she tried to push him away, tried to be free of him. His hand freed from her grip, he let his arm wrap around her, holding her against him hard. "Let go of me! Get off me!" Her hands were shoving against him, beating into his sides as she raged.
"It's okay. Calm down. Just breathe." He started taking deep breaths, pulling her against him tighter, harder, stronger. "Just breathe." At first she fought him, at first she raged. Then, after what seemed like hours, and was probably only minutes, her hands stopped fighting and were instead gripping him as hard as he was gripping her. Her breathing had slowed, her body no longer convulsing in his arms. Her face turned into his neck and she remained there, unmoving.
"Why do we hate each other?"
Her voice was so small and so delicate in his ear that he barely heard it. However, when it did register in his mind what she had said, he was nearly floored. He didn't answer for a while, his thoughts jumping around in his head, trying to find reason. When he finally did speak, the words were heavy in his mouth. "Because we don't know how to love each other." It was then that she pulled away, and he let her. He couldn't meet her eyes, couldn't be condemned by the fire held within them. But her hand touched his cheek, turning his eyes up to meet hers. What he saw there was not anger, nor fear or hatred. What he saw there was a great sadness.
She stood and offered him her hand, which he hesitantly took. They walked in silence, hand-in-hand to Gryffindor Tower, where they stopped before the portrait, and just stood there. "Thank you." He nearly jumped as his head snapped towards her. She was smiling at him. He smirked back.
"Yeah, well don't count on it." Shrugging slightly he turned to walk away, letting her hand slip gently from his as the distance between them stretched. He didn't look back.
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
5th Year
He stormed away from her, the taste of her lips on his refusing to leave his mouth. The smell of her hair stained his clothes, his senses. He couldn't get rid of her. It was infuriating. He wasn't supposed to feel this way. He wasn't supposed to want her like this. And now he hated himself for what he'd said. He hated himself for what he allowed her to do to him. He hated her for what she unknowingly brought out in him. She riled him, irked him to no end. And he hated it.
Rounding corner after corner he found himself standing in front of the Library. How he ended up there and why he didn't really know. Sighing deeply, he stepped inside and moved to a dark corner behind the Restricted Section and seated himself in a large armchair. It was then that he noticed the arrow-slit window beside him in the wall. Only the moon was visible through the narrow opening. He watched it until his eyes began to bow, eyelashes dusting his cheeks when he blinked. It was then that he finally let his tears fall. As he shut his eyes, they escaped the safety of his eyes and ran down his cheeks. This was how he remained through the night until the first light of dawn touched his skin though the arrow-slit. Only then did he admit to himself that he was wrong. That all his life, he'd been horribly, horrifically, wrong.
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
6th Year – Hospital Wing
The sun was bright on her face when she woke. Something was warm in her hands, something warm against her chest. Opening her eyes slowly, she was surprised to find herself in the Hospital Wing, and was even more surprised to find Draco Malfoy curled in her arms. Hermione almost jumped from the bed when she saw his face. But then she saw his hands twined firmly in her own, saw the serene and peaceful look displayed in his features. She smiled, remembering the previous night, remembering how safe she had felt beside him. Watching him sleep Hermione felt a sudden calm overwhelm her, flood her senses. It was unlike anything she'd felt before. She smiled softly and moved to disentangle herself, only to find that when she moved, his iron grip tightened, holding her in place.
It was then that Hermione Granger did something she had not expected to do. She bent forward and pressed her lips to his cheek, the kiss gentle and soft. He stirred, shaking away and knocking his head against her chin. His hand relinquished hers and grabbed his head, groaning as he did so. Her hands now freed, Hermione rubbed her chin gingerly, almost laughing at the occurrence. Her joviality was interrupted however by a tired, graveled voice. "What the hell are you doing here?" Her eyes shot up to his, fury flaming within her.
"I'll go." She stood sharply and moved to leave. His hand on her wrist made her freeze.
"That's not what I meant." His voice was delicate, gentle and welcoming. She turned to face him again. "I just wanted to know why you were here in the first place? I mean, I'm not exactly everyone's favorite person this year." His smirk touched his lips slightly, but was lost in the sadness of his voice. Hermione sat on the bed beside him, letting her hand travel up his wrist to run smoothly over the Mark on his arm.
"I don't know really." Her eyes shifted to his and back to his arm, unsure of where to look. "I just ended up here last night." Shaking her head she let her hand slip away from his arm and fidgeted with her fingers in her lap. His hand covered hers.
"Thank you." She met his eyes. "For everything last night."
"You're welcome." Neither one smiled, but they were both instantly happy. However, what Draco said next shocked Hermione to her core.
"Kiss me." He was leaning towards her, his eyes never leaving hers. She was tempted to close the distance between them, but something held her back.
"We shouldn't." His eyes turned cold for a moment. "At least, not here. Not now." A slight smile touched his lips.
"When?"
"I don't know." Her hand moved of its own volition to his cheek, her palm pressing on his jaw, caressing down his neck. "I don't know." Sadness filled her then. A realization that there might not be another time.
His hand grasped hers, held it against his cheek. "Please don't go." He felt her pulling away, felt her shying away from what they felt. "Please." Pulling her hand forward, he propelled her into his arms, their lips meeting in a frenzy of will and sorrow. He held her to him, against him, as her arms wound around him, fingers running through his hair, splaying over his shoulders. When they finally broke away, he didn't let her go, he remained pressed against her, his forehead touching hers, their breathing heavy. "I don't want you to go anywhere without me. I don't want to be without you."
Their breathing slowed, and Hermione's mind found the first glimmer of clearness it'd had in months. "Why?" She pulled back, letting her hands drop between them. Her eyes met his and questioned his motives, questioned his reasoning. "Why do you want me?" His arms fell away from her, shock plastered on his face. "Tell my why Draco."
"Don't you understand?" He ran his fingers into her hair, pulling her forwards. "I thought you always understood! I thought that was why you kept coming back to me!" She tore out of his reach, standing before him beside the bed.
"Understand what? Of course I never understood! I still don't understand!" Her feet began to pace the length of the bed and back. "What exactly and I meant to understand, Malfoy? I don't understand why you kiss me the way you do, or why I feel safer than I ever have in your arms. I don't understand why I let you hold me, let you touch me, let you kiss me. I don't understand why I care so much about you, why I want you to touch me, kiss me, hold me…why I want you to love me." Tears streamed down her cheeks, her arms crossing over her chest defensively. "I want all of this, Draco. I want you more than I've wanted anything. I just…I just don't know if this means as much to you as it does to me. And I want to know why?"
Draco was silent for a long time, her words ringing light church bells in his ears. Truthfully, he loved the way she laughed, loved how intelligent she was, how brilliant all her spells were. Truthfully, he loved watching her smile, watching the way she tossed her hair when she was frustrated. He loved the feel of her skin, the taste of her lips. He loved the smell of her hair, the pureness in her eyes. The truth was that he loved her. And the horrid fact was that he could never tell her. "Hermione," he stood, placing his hands on her arms, "do you think I know any of this better than you do?" She looked up at him, her eyes searching for an answer he could never give her.
"I'm not asking you to tell me your deepest secrets, Draco. All I'm asking is for a little assurance that you're not just using me, that you're not just taking all of this back to your Slytherin friends and laughing about me behind my back." She breathed hard. "Is that so much to ask?"
"No, it isn't." Pulling her into his arms, he pressed a kiss to her forehead, and pulled away, letting his arms fall away as he lay back in the bed. She remained where she was, almost glaring at him, and yet not. He looked away from her, unable to bear the sorrow in her eyes. "No matter what you ask me, Hermione, you're searching for answers I can never give." He felt something break inside him. "No matter how I feel, no matter what I want, I can never give you what you're looking for." He heard her gasp softly behind him, felt her tears start anew. He turned back to her, watched as she backed away from the bed slowly, unsure of what she was hearing. "As much as I want you, want this, I can never have it." She was shaking her head now, her breath coming in stressed, harsh gasps. He got up again, moved towards her. She backed away faster. "All I can give you are stolen moments, stolen caresses in the dark." He moved faster, caught her arms in his hands, pulled her to him. "I can never love you the way you want me to." She shook her head hard, trying to pull away, trying to be free of him. "No, you have to listen!" He grabbed her chin, thrusting face up. "Look at me." Her eyes remained closed, her tears falling softly down her cheeks. "Hermione, please look at me." Slowly, her eyes opened to meet his. "I can love you here, in the dark, away from everything outside these walls." He pressed her hand to his chest. "I can love you here, in my heart, my soul, but never outside in the open." He could feel his own tears begin to pour, could feel his own heart breaking as he spoke. "I can love you all my life, every moment of every day. I can love you with all of my heart." A violent sob echoed through the Hospital Wing. He cupped her face in his hands, drawing her closer, his tears matching her own. "I will love you for as long as I live, Hermione Granger, but I can never have you." With those final words, he brought his lips to hers, branding her, bruising her flesh with his force. Her hands fisted in his shirt, holding him against her, kissing him back with all she had.
All too soon, the moment was over, their fire dimming. When she spoke, her voice was hoarse and ragged. "I love you, Draco." And then she was gone. Tearing from his arms, she fled the Hospital Wing and ran for Gryffindor Tower. As soon as she reached the safety of the abandoned Girl's Dorm, she threw herself into her bed and sobbed into her pillow, knowing that she would never feel Draco Malfoy's love for her ever again.
The wind was howling around him as he trudged through the woods. He had the nagging sense that he was being followed, that someone, or something, was shadowing his every move. Speeding up his pace, he rounded on a tree, taking refuge in the protection it provided. Moments later, footsteps could be heard, softly crunching in the leaves of the forest floor. He drew he wand, the words of a spell forming on his lips. They were coming closer; soon they would be on the other side of the tree. Then they rounded the tree. He grabbed them quickly, wand pressing harshly into their neck. "Who the hell are you?" Their hands flew up in surrender, their body relaxing, not fighting him.
"Let me go and I'll show you! I'm not going to attack you!" He reached into his robes. "Here, take my wand!" He pulled out his wand and threw it to the ground. "I swear!"
With hesitant fingers, Ron released him and backed away, scooping up the spare wand as he did so. "Take off your hood." The man's hands slowly moved to his hood, gingerly pulling it back from his face. What Ron saw then made him want to vomit. "Malfoy! How the hell am I supposed to trust you? Hell, I'm halfway to hexing you out of my sight right now, unless you give me some fucking answers."
Malfoy raised his hands, trying to inspire some form of trust between them. When he spoke, his voice was steady and smooth, although it lacked its normal Malfoy-swag. "Look, I know you don't trust me, hell, you hate me. But I need you, just this once, to believe that there are things I care more about than myself. Can you do that for me?"
"No! But I'll listen to you, if that's all you're after." Ron held up Malfoy's wand. "But you're not getting this back until I'm long gone."
"Fine with me. I'm not going to need it." He moved to a fallen tree and leaned against it, appearing relaxed and almost defeated. "I need to tell you a few things, most of which you're not going to like, all of which you're not going to believe, and hopefully, some of which you'll understand and try to see my way." He paused, trying to think where to begin.
"Get on with it." Ron was growing impatient.
"I'm just thinking. I don't really know where to start. This all happened at school, mind you." He tapped his chin, his brain ticking.
"Take your time, it's not like we're in a war or anything." Ron smirked, or at least what he thought was a smirk, and Malfoy grinned.
"Funny. Who would've thought that Weasley was funny?" It was odd to see a Malfoy grinning, but Ron let it pass. When Malfoy finally did start, his voice was heavy, and suddenly very serious. "Alright. I guess you could say it started in 3rd Year…"
Hours later, Ron was sitting on the tree beside Malfoy, fingers pressed deep into his temples, trying to comprehend what he'd just heard. Malfoy sat silently, reverently, just waiting for Ron to speak. "So let me get this straight, you're in love with my best friend, and she's in love with you, and you can't be with her because of the war, and…and you're actually buying all that bullshit?" Malfoy's head shot up, shock plastered to his features.
"What?" He stood up and faced Ron. Ron was quick to join him.
"I mean, sure, most of that was pretty unbelievable, but if any of that were to be true, then the two of you are the biggest idiots I've ever met!" He turned away from Malfoy and began to pace. "Which is strange considering the two of you are the smartest people I know."
"Hey, just because we're smart doesn't make us…smart…" Malfoy was sounding more and more defeated by his own point every second.
"Right, cause that statement made you sound sooo intelligent." Ron rubbed his face with his hands. "Alright, alright. So why are you telling me all of this now? I mean, from what I understand of the last time you spoke, you told her you could never tell anyone about the two of you. I mean, you practically told her that it was all just a lie to you! So why are you telling me?"
"No, it wasn't a lie! I love her! I'll always love her—"
"But by telling her that you could only love her in the dark pretty much just said that you liked screwing around with her, but that she was never the girl you'd bring home to the family. Which I'm happy for, because face it, your family sucks. But seriously, how could you not know that was what you were telling her?" Ron crossed his arms and stared Malfoy down.
"I…you know what!" He pointed his finger angrily at Ron. "It seemed right at the time." He collapsed back onto the tree, holding his head in his hands.
"So why don't you find her and tell her that?" Ron joined him on the tree and tried to understand.
"You don't understand Weasley. I'm telling you all of this because I can't tell her. I can't be with her. I can't hold her, or kiss her, or touch her! I can't do any of that because of my stupid family! I'm telling you this because I want you to love her instead of me." He met Ron's eyes, holding them as his meaning sunk in.
"What?" Ron's voice jumped up a notch. "Are you kidding me? You want me to love her, take care of her, kiss her, hold her, just for you? You've got to be joking." He tried to laugh, but it came out strangled.
"No, I'm not asking you to do it for me. I'm asking you to do it for her. She loves you; I know she does. But she's holding herself apart from you, and from Potter. I've been following the three of you since you set off, it's been my task to know exactly where Potter was at all times—"
"Wait, wait, wait. You've been following us, on Voldemort's orders?" Ron's voice dropped with his anger, his rage boiling to the surface.
"Yes. But every time I send in an update, I always tell him that you're on the other side of the continent. Trust me, they have no idea where you all are." Malfoy gripped Ron's shoulder, and suddenly there was a bond between them. "Look, you need to go back to them. You need to go back to Hermione, you need to tell her how much you love her, and you need to mean it." Ron nodded numbly, trying to get a grasp of what he was about to do. "I'll take you back to them, but you can't tell them about me. I'll cast a spell on you if I have to, Weasley. I'm not above that."
"Right, like you'd ever get the chance." They laughed nervously before standing together and moving away from the fallen tree. "Hey Malfoy?"
"Hmm?"
"Here, you're going to need this." Ron stretched out his hand, offering Malfoy's wand back. "Besides, if I don't trust you now, then how can I do what you need, right?" He smiled, waiting for Malfoy to take back his wand. When his hand closed over the wand, Malfoy looked at peace, as if he could trust himself as well as Ron.
"You know you're going to have to hate me from now on, right? No matter what happens, you're going to have to pretend that this never happened. You have to make everyone believe that you'd like nothing better than to kill me."
"That won't be so hard. I mean, you did steal my kiss from Hermione, so I guess all I'll have to do is think of that."
"You really do love her, don't you Weasley?"
"With all my heart. You never needed to ask me, Malfoy. But it's good to know now that you're not all bad. At least now when it comes down to a fight, I won't have to kill you."
They walked on in silence until they reached a safe apparation point. Malfoy spoke. "Take this." He handed him a small, insignificant stone. "It's a portkey. It only has one use in it, and it'll take you directly to where they are, at least, within a few meters or so. You won't be able to get through their wards, but you'll be close enough that they'll see you, so you'll be fine." Ron took the stone and held it tight. Before he was transported away, he thanked Malfoy for everything, even the bad shit that had happened, and then he was gone.
Draco Malfoy sat in his study at Malfoy Manor. In a few days he would leave on one of the most important missions he'd yet been assigned. The Dark Lord had entrusted him with a great task, a great weight. Far in the north, guarded by Frost Demons and Ice Elementals, there lay a large cavern. According to legend, there lay buried there a great treasure, a powerful weapon. It was Draco's task to travel to the north, accompanied by Bellatrix and Blaise, to retrieve this artifact. According to the Dark Lord, it was a weapon that would change the tide, a weapon that would bring an end to the war, leaving Harry Potter and his followers as dust. At the moment, he was going over their journey-plans. He was pouring over a map of the north, trying to determine the best course, the best way in which to ensure that there would be minimal contact between their party and the monsters that inhabited these abandoned lands.
"Draco, are you ever going to give it a rest?" Blaise lounged on the sofa by the window as Draco worked. "We've been over these plans for weeks! They don't need anymore tweaking, anymore adjustments. We've done all we can. All that's left is to go on this journey, and make it count. It's our duty."
"Blaise, why don't you go shove your dick in something, and let me concentrate? You may feel that we've done all the planning we can, but until I'm absolutely positive that there is no other course of action, I'm going to continue to plan. So if you please?" He gestured to the door of his study and waited for Blaise to leave.
"Fine, fine. I'll leave you to your brooding." Blaise stood and sauntered towards the door. "Just so you know, as one friend to another, you might find you're a bit less moody if you got some action, if you know what I'm saying." Waggling his eyebrows and cackling horridly, Blaise swaggered out of Draco's study and shut the door pointedly behind him.
Draco leaned back in his chair and threw his quill down, exhaling heavily as he did so. Unbidden, his thoughts turned to Hermione. He shook his head and the memory of his lips on his faded, but he was still left with the taste of her on his tongue.
St. Mungos
Present Day
"Have you been home yet, at all?" Draco jumped at Harry's voice intruding on his solitude. He tired to move, only to find that his back had frozen in place due to the uncomfortable chair he'd been sleeping in for the past month.
"No, and I don't intend to until I can take my wife with me." He rubbed the bridge of his nose and attempted to stand again. He had more success this time, seeing as he actually got out of the chair, but walking was a pain. Making his way over to her bed, he let his eyes trace over her face. "She still hasn't woken up, and I'm not leaving her until she does." Sitting on the edge of the bed, he took her limp hand in his, relief flooding him at its warmth.
"Draco, you really need to sleep in a bed at some point. That chair is going to kill you eventually." Harry joined him on the other side, gripping Hermione's wrist and sighing. "But I can't make you leave." Just then the door opened and two orderlies moved into the room. "They, however, can."
"Mr. Malfoy, its time for you to leave. Visiting hours are over." Crossing his arms, the bulkier of the two planted his feet as he spoke.
"No. I'm sorry, but she is my wife and I'm not leaving until I know she's going to be alright." He grasped Hermione's hand, holding it like an anchor. Then Dr. Puddleworth joined them.
"Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter, I'm glad the two of you are here." She gestured to the orderlies, and they silently left the room, closing the door behind them. Dr. Puddleworth moved to the edge of the bed and took in a deep breath. "Mr. Malfoy, I understand that this is very difficult for you, and I know that you want to be with her whenever you can, that you want to be here when she wakes up." Draco nodded. "Mr. Malfoy, it's time for you to prepare for the time when she won't wake up. We've tried everything, and we just aren't seeing the results we should be seeing at this time. In Muggle hospitals, they give their coma patients four months before they begin to talk seriously about the chances of them never waking up. However, with our obvious magical abilities and advantages, at this point, it is highly unlikely that Mrs. Malfoy will ever wake up. I'm sorry." Shaking her head slightly, Dr. Puddleworth left the room, and the door swung shut silently behind her.
Draco turned dumfounded eyes on Harry, who showed signs of bursting into tears. But then he met Draco's eyes and inhaled sharply. "Draco, come stay at Grimmauld Place with me and Ginny. Spend some time away from this place. She's going to be here for a while. Ginny and I would be happy to have you." He tried a smile, but it came out more as a weak grimace than anything else. Draco smiled back.
"Thanks Harry. I'd love to come stay with you." Swallowing his grief, Draco stood, kissed Hermione's hand, and walked out with Harry. The sound of the door closing behind him resounded with a finality he was terrified to face.
It was Christmas, and Draco was miserable. He was at Grimmauld Place with Harry, Ginny, Ron, Neville, Luna, Seamus, the Weasley Twins, Dean, the Patil sisters, and what seemed like everyone that ever was a Gryffindor. He admitted, only to himself, that he got along well with Harry, Ginny and Ron, but everyone else just seemed to irk him horridly. Fred and George were abysmal at trying to cheer him up, and Seamus was just too bloody…Irish. Not that Draco had a problem with the Irish…but all their worst qualities seemed to be embodied in Seamus Finnegan. On top of all that, it had been six months since he'd been to St. Mungos to see Hermione. After he'd left that last time, he just couldn't bear to go back. He knew that Ron went and Ginny went, and Harry stopped there every day after work, but Draco just couldn't bring himself to step into that room. He couldn't bear to be near her, to be within reach of her, and not have her holding him in her arms.
"Draco! It's Christmas! Be happy!"
"Shut it, Fred!"
"I'm not Fred! I'm George!"
"You know you both look alike!" Draco took another swill of his Firewhiskey and stormed up to his room. He noticed Harry watch him leave, but tried not to let it bother him. It seemed that Harry Potter still knew everything that was going on around him.
When he reached his room, a room he was informed originally belonged to his cousin Regulus at some point in time, and slammed the door behind him. Collapsing into his bed, he tried to think of anything other than Hermione. Just when he was getting on to thinking about Christmas, and presents and how much he used to love the holiday, there was a rapping at his window. He was off the bed and at said window in an instant. There, sitting on the sill, was a great black owl. In its beak was a formally stamped envelope. An envelope bearing the seal of St. Mungos. "Harry!" Grabbing the letter, Draco tore out of his room and down the stairs into the bustling kitchen. Harry saw him hurtle down the stairs and grabbed his arms as he burst into the kitchen. "Harry! She's…she…" The room fell silent, waiting for him to speak. No one needed to know who he was talking about; no one needed a name to put with his words. They all knew and cared for Hermione, and they all wanted to know what he was dying to tell them.
"Draco, calm down. What's happened?" Harry's voice was steady, a pillar of strength in the growing storm of his heart.
"She's awake." Harry smiled, and then turned to the assembled guests. "Everybody out! The party is over! As you can imagine, we have a few things that need taking care of." Before Draco could blink, the entire house empty. Harry turned back to him. "Are you okay?"
"Harry, she's awake. Of course I'm okay!" Draco ran through the kitchen, grabbed his coat and had apparated to St. Mungos before anyone could say another word. He found the nurses desk in no time and was asking where his wife had been moved. Dr. Puddleworth touched his arm, startling him.
"Mr. Malfoy, I see you got our letter." She smiled warmly at him.
"Yes, where is she?" He smiled back, his excitement and joy overflowing. But Dr. Puddleworth's face turned grave.
"Mr. Malfoy, there are a few things I need to explain to you before you can see her." She took his arm and guided him down the hall, stopping just outside one of the private rooms. "She woke up last night, and we wanted to give her a day to adjust. She's fully lucid now, and completely healthy—"
"Then what is it exactly that I don't understand? I'm going in to see my wife now, and there's nothing you can do to stop me." He stormed past her, ignoring her protests as he shut the door behind him. As he moved away from the door and further into the room, he saw her lying in her bed by the window. She was staring out over London, her hands fidgeting on her stomach. He moved quietly to her, standing beside the bed, waiting for her to notice he was there. When she didn't, he sat in the chair by the bed and waited, watching her. Now, after all this time, wanting to hold her, kiss her, touch her, see her smile, all he could do was watch her breath, watch her live. Then her eyes drifted closed and he watched her sleeping, watched her as she rested blissfully. There was a knock at the door. Draco turned his head and saw Harry, Ginny and Ron come in.
"I thought she was awake?" Ron's voice was laced with concern.
"She is. Well, she was a few moments ago. I think she just fell asleep." He smiled at them. "I haven't talked to her yet. After all this time, all I want to do is watch her." Harry moved closer.
"She's awake now, Draco. She's alive, and awake, and that's all that matters.
"Harry? Is that you?" Draco's head snapped towards the bed. Her golden eyes were locked on Harry, a soft smile shaping her lips.
"Hermione! We're so happy you're awake!" They rushed to her, sitting around her, hugging her, laughing with her. Draco held back, not wanting to share any of his time with them. He watched, and he waited. And then Ron spoke.
"And you know who's here right? He's just hanging back, probably because he wants you all to himself, but he's here." He grinned and looked goofily at Draco.
"Who's here, Ron? Who else would be here?" She looked confusedly around the room, her eyes finally landing on Draco. "Harry, what's Malfoy doing here?"
Draco's heart sank. "What do you mean Hermione? Why wouldn't he be here?" Harry's voice was confused. But Draco understood all too well.
"It's fine Harry. It's understandable that she wouldn't understand." He looked Hermione in the eyes. "I've been a double agent for the past few years. I don't know if Dr. Puddleworth told you already, but you've been in a coma for the past seven months. What's the last thing you remember?" He moved closer to the bed, willing her to see him as he was.
"I remember…" her lip twisted as she thought, "I remember getting engaged to Ron, and I remember the dinner party, and the morning after…but, after that it's mostly fuzzy." She looked at Ron and took his hand. How much have I missed?"
Harry's face fell, and a grave tone crashed around them. "Hermione, it's been three years since that dinner. And you're not—"
"Not up to speed yet. Harry, can I talk to you for a moment outside?" Draco scowled at Harry before turning and leaving the room. When Harry joined him, he was met with a stern glare.
"Draco, what do you think you're doing?" He placed his hands on his hips and pouted.
"Harry, she doesn't remember anything. And she doesn't need to. The life we share was not a happy one. I will always love her, and I will always be there for her, but she doesn't need to know about that life. Our wedding was not happy, or marriage was not full of love and life. Our life together was one of misery, and duty, and obedience to a Dark Lord that tormented our lives every day. It was because of that life that she became what we fought against. It was because of the life that she's where she is now. I can't bring that back. I'm not going to sacrifice her happiness just so that I can have her back." He sighed deeply, looking through the window in the door and watching her laugh at something Ginny said. "She deserves a happy, normal life. That is something I can't give her. Not with the past we've already shared." He looked Harry in the eye. "You can never tell her about me. She can know that I helped in the war, and that we became friends, but I don't want her knowing that we were married. I don't want her to know that we shared anything more than friendship. Is that clear?"
"Draco—"
"No! Harry, if you've ever thought of me as a friend, you'll do this for me. You won't tell her about me. Please. Let her be happy. Let her marry Ron, and let her have the life she so desperately wants." He held Harry's gaze until Harry nodded, and then he turned away. "I'll move out of Grimmauld Place tonight. You won't see me there again."
With those final words, Draco walked out of St. Mungos and apparated to Grimmauld Place. Once there, he packed his things and apparated to Malfoy Manor. It was time for him to rebuild the Manor to its former glory. It was time to begin anew.
Hermione and Ron sat in garden with Ginny and Harry at the Burrow. Hermione was trying to read a book about love and war, and all things dramatic, but something kept nagging in the back of her mind. It had been a year since she'd seen Draco Malfoy, and yet every time a door creaked, or a window whistled, she found herself longing that it was some sign of his arrival. She found herself desperately wanting him to walk back into her life. She did not know why, but everyday she went without him etched small cracks in her heart, growing steadily with each passing hour. Even now, as she relaxed with her friends, peacefully in the lovely tended gardens of Mrs. Weasley, she felt a hole in her heart. She felt as if something, intangible and fantastical, were missing.
"Hermione? Are you hungry?"
"No, Ginny. Thank you." She smiled as Ginny nodded and moved into the house. Ron looked up from his Daily Prophet and eyed her with concern.
"Are you alright? You look like you're not entirely here." He was smiling, but she knew that something lay hidden beneath his calm exterior. Harry looked up from his Auror reports, his expression guarded. Hermione could tell they were hiding something.
"What aren't you two telling me?" They shared a glance, shifting and uneasy beneath Hermione's gaze. "What are you hiding?" She snapped her book shut and stood.
"Look, Hermione, there are some things that I…that we feel you're better off not knowing. Many things have happ—"
"I don't care, Harry! I need to know what I've done! You all walk on eggshells around me, like I'm going to snap and kill you! I'm sick of it!" She threw her book down and began to pace. The door to the Burrow's kitchen slammed and Hermione's head whipped around at the sound. It was only Ginny, running to see what the matter was.
"Hermione you don't understand!" Her eyes turned to Ron. He stood and gripped her shoulders. "What happened, what you did wasn't your fault. You did the best you could, given your situation. We were told by—"
"Ron!" Harry's voice pierced the air.
"We were told that you suffered every day. Maybe not physically, but mentally. Your battles were not fought with magic, or violence. We now know that you became what was necessary in order to survive. No one could ask any more of you." Ron kissed her forehead and went back into the house. Harry touched her arm as he too followed. Ginny remained.
"I'm so lost, Ginny. I feel like I don't know who I am anymore." Turning away, Hermione looked at a particularly nasty looking garden gnome as it tried to pull itself from a gopher hole. "And then there's the mark on my back. An everlasting symbol of the hatred I was a part of." Ginny touched her arm, offering what little comfort she could. "I have to know, Ginny." Her eyes pleaded as she spoke. "I have to know what's happened to me."
Ginny was silent for a while, her thoughts intermingling to form a coherent answer. When she did speak, her voice was quiet, hushed as if she was afraid someone might hear. "If you want answers Hermione, I suggest you talk to your husband." Hermione's eyes widened.
"My husband?" Her voice shook, her mind fighting with her heart.
"Draco Malfoy."
Author's Note:
Okay, so that took a substantially shorter time to write than any other chapter…which I find exceedingly strange. Anyway, what're your thoughts, comments, insults, praises, desires? (scratch that last one) I feel like most of this chapter doesn't meld well with the others. And I know I said that this was supposed to be the last chapter, but what can I say? More needs to be written, and so I am helpless to the drive. I hope you all enjoyed this latest chapter. I must say that I feel it to be my most choppy work ever, and not purposefully either. Anyhoo, please let me know what you think, cause I really am dying to know your input on Hermione finding out that Draco's her hubby…so please review! (plus, I'm kinda starved for attention…I need the ego boost)
-The Crimson Sheath