Chapter Eighteen
Haven't Begun
The first major fight was over, and they survived. Hermione moved back into Draco's room, and continued to live as if the fight had never occurred.
It was a cloudless day in May, the bright sun melted the last of the snow. It was a nicely warm day, but Hermione, and Draco forced themselves to stay inside doing a large pile of homework. Or rather, Hermione forced Draco to stay inside.
Draco lounged on the couch, his feet propped up on the coffee table, and Hermione laid on her back, her head on his lap. All that could be heard was the scratching of quills on parchment, the occasional turning of a page, and a sigh of frustration, mostly from Draco's part. Laying his paper on the arm of the couch writing an essay on giants in the northern hemisphere, he ran his fingers through Hermione's curly hair.
The erupt sound of the doorbell startled them, and Draco cursed as he splotched his page. Hermione leapt to her feet scurrying to the window. She peeked out, and saw an old man with a long beard, and jovial smile. She opened the door as Draco stood beside her.
"Professor Dumbledore, sir!" Hermione greeted stepping back allowing him in.
"Hello Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy." He stopped inside the entrance taking in the piles of books, quills, and papers. "I see you are studying. I'm sorry to interrupt you."
"No, not at all, sir," Draco said please more that he had a reason to rest his eyes. "What do we owe this pleasure?"
"May I first inquire if either of you have read the Daily Prophet?"
"No, sir, Hermione insisted we start our homework early," he glimpsed at her accusingly.
Dumbledore's grin widened. "Then I have the great satisfaction of seeing your expressions. Harry, Ron, and if I shall say myself, have vanquished Voldemort," he clapped his hands together happily.
Hermione gasped, and squealed. "Really, how?"
Draco appeared to still be in shock staring blankly at the headmaster. It was like he wasn't in belief of what he was being told.
Dumbledore sat himself in one of the chairs, the only one that wasn't occupied with studying materials. "It's quite a complicated story, Miss Granger. I shall try to explain, however..."
Hermione, and Draco sat themselves on the couch scooting their work aside. They listened intently to Dumbledore's story of horocruxes, deathly hallows, and the war. Hermione was sad that she couldn't have been involved. She could have helped out so much, and one look at Draco told her that he felt the same. Life had gone on without them.
She then thought of her friends, and knowing them they had gotten in on the war too. "Is everyone alright? Harry, Ron, Ginny, the rest of the Weasley's? Nevielle? Luna?"
He sighed sadly. "It was a war, and like every war there are unfortunate casualties."
"Who," she asked barely breathing. Draco's clammy hand caressed hers ready to grab like a lifesaver.
"Lupin, Tonks, Fred Weasley, Crabb, and... I could sit here all day telling you of the deaths that took place, but... I think it's best if I stopped there. Those are the ones I'm sure you're closest to."
Hermione began crying. Tears poured down her cheeks quickly, and silently. She thought of Ron, George, and all of the Weasley's. This was Mrs. Weasley's worse nightmare, her greatest fear, her boggart. She knew that none of them would fully recover from it. And Lupin, and Tonks... They just had a baby... Harry told her about the baby boy, Teddy. She cried harder feeling Draco's arm securely over her shoulders. She looked up, and through blurry eyes saw his wet ones. Crabb had been a bodyguard at most, but she knew that there was some sort of care there.
"I'm sorry to have been the one to tell you," Dumbledore said with enormous sensitivity.
Hermione couldn't speak. It felt like her throat had closed up, so she nodded.
Draco spoke, his voice tight. "What about her parents, sir?"
"The authorities are on that right now giving their memories back to them. They should be home in a couple of days unaware of anything that happened."
"Good," he said.
"I know this isn't the right time, but you should both start packing your things."
"What for, sir," Draco asked.
"The war is over, Mr. Malfoy. This arrangement I set for you, and Miss Granger was only temporary. You may return to Hogwarts tomorrow, and you will join your houses for the end of term. I know that your friends are anxious to see you." He took out a pocket watch with many hands on it, and rose to his feet. "I must leave now. I will be back tomorrow at five. Please have all your things ready to go," and he left the way he came.
In silence they sat. It pressed in on them, suffocating until one of them had to speak. That person was Hermione. "I guess this work will have to wait. I have a lot of packing to do."
"Hermione,"
Draco held her shoulder. "I have to know. Is anything going to
change? You know, between us?"
"It has to, we'll be in
different houses, we won't even be able to eat breakfast with each
other."
"I meant..."
"No, it won't."
He nodded, and held her to him. "This is going to be hard."
"I think it has been from the start."
Hermione's suitcase sat open on her bed. She neatly folded her clothes into sections of blouses, pants, under things. She sat the last article of clothing she had in, and stood back to admire her organizational skills. She was done. Everything else was packed.
With great strength she dragged it off her bed. It thudded on the floor, and she was thankful that it had wheels. She rolled it into the hallway, and suddenly it became light in her hands, almost like it was floating. She looked behind her, and saw that it was. Standing in his doorway was Draco wand in hand shaking his head disappointed.
"Forgot the spell?"
She sneered. "It doesn't hurt to do things the Muggle way once in a while."
"I'd like to see you get that down the stairs."
"Oh, bugger off, Draco," she snapped, but smiled in spite of herself carrying the feather light suitcase behind her.
In a matter of time their belongings were by the door awaiting to be taken to Hogwarts. Draco, and Hermione stood by the fireplace staring at it expectantly, and sadly. Last night was their last night together. Throughout the night they hadn't let go of one another, being as close as possible they intangled their legs around each others, his hand on her waist, her hand over his chest.
"I didn't know it would feel this way," Hermione said mostly to herself. "I wanted Voldemort to be gone, but this is... Bittersweet."
Draco nodded understandingly. "We haven't begun to see our war, Hermione."