Disclaimer: I don't want to get sued, so not only do I have to admit that I am not JKR, I have to stop using offensive language at work.
Liberation Chapter 8
Hermione stared at her foggy reflection in her bathroom mirror until the steamy haze disappeared completely, and she could see her face clearly. Even after the refreshing shower her eyes still looked tired and shadowed. The last few days at work had been really busy with a bout of call outs because of a flu virus going around. Thankfully, Hermione had yet to catch the actual virus, and it would only take a simple potion to set her right in a day or so if she did, but the extra hours were strenuous all the same. Her strange decision to agree to have a relationship with Harry was keeping her up nights too.
She knew it was not an irrational decision considering they were compatible in several ways, but there was no burning passion. Hermione had no idea if that was because she was incapable of such sentiment, or if it was because Harry was wrong for her somehow. Either way, being with him was not going to work out because at the minimum, the timing was off, and Hermione was going to tell him so before they left for Pansy's party. If that made him upset to where he did not want to go, then so be it, Pansy and Ron would understand. She simply could not imagine the farce continuing. But as she stared at her blank and almost lifeless expression in the mirror, she could not think of a single reason why anyone besides Harry would want to be with her. If she was not good enough for any bloke off the street, then she was certainly not good enough for Harry. He was too special, and her self-esteem was too low.
"You really need to get some help," Hermione's reflection told her.
Hermione stiffened her shoulders at the charmed reflection and glared back at herself indignantly. "I will be just fine. Just because Harry is the only man who has ever shown interest in me, does not mean I am not happy, or need help."
"You are talking to yourself," the mirror Hermione replied with a raised eyebrow, "and you are assuming that no one wants you, but you have been married to your work, and unapproachable. Stop using what happened to you when you were kidnapped as a crutch, Hermione. You did not think you were good enough before, and you don't now. Nothing has changed."
Hermione frowned at her reflection for another minute, which looked back at her with a look of superiority, arms crossed, and a smirk completing the effect. Her own scars seemed to be staring back at her as well, as if accusing her of being ashamed of them.
"I never should have let George give me this mirror," she said before taking the thing down and putting it in her closet, replacing it with the original un-charmed mirror the bathroom came with. It was one thing to have internal conversations with one's self, but to be put in a situation where she could tell herself off was a bit more than she could handle at the moment. But the mirror Hermione was right, and the real Hermione knew it. No one was as hard on herself as she was, and that had to be intimidating to others. She'd just never really thought of it that way before. Hermione was always sensible and calculated, rarely spontaneous, and even more rarely did she allow her instincts to override her sensibilities. Her instincts had told her that Harry was not a good choice for a romantic partner, but her brain told her it was rational and acceptable so she went with it. Harry was excellent at following one's gut; surely he felt the wrongness too. But then again, his judgment was clouded by his desire to protect Hermione, and Hermione believed that Harry convinced himself this was the right thing to do.
Hermione put on her favourite set of dress robes that were a deep hue of jade and made out of silk. They were dressy and tasteful and she only wore them on occasion, preferring gowns for events that required more formal attire. But dress robes were a particular favourite of hers because they represented magic and the world that was completely different from the one she'd grown up in. She could wear gowns to any old Muggle event but dress robes were special. She fussed with her wild mane of hair for a good thirty minutes before settling on just enough Sleakeasy's Hair Potion to keep the frizz at bay, allowing her brunette curls to cascade down her back. Finally, she smoothed just enough eye shadow over her eyes to bring out the hints of green in the otherwise boring brown.
Standing back a few feet from the mirror so she could see the whole effect, Hermione decided that she was passable. Pansy was always radiant, and Draco's date had been stunning the night Hermione had first met her, and would no doubt still be stunning at the dinner. Hermione figured it was an exercise in futility to try to compete with their glamour. She just did not have the time or the energy to look like she stepped off of a runway every day like Pansy seemed too. It was no wonder Ron was crazy about her, she was beautiful, and not at all pug faced like everybody used to claim when she was younger. Ron was just shallow enough to care about those things, and Pansy was vain enough to like that about him. Hermione cringed inwardly at the crush she used to have on Ron during her school days. That would have been an even worse match than her and Harry.
Hermione cast aside all thoughts of her love life and settled onto her couch to await Harry's arrival. She pulled Crookshanks onto her lap and stroked the old cat's back for a few minutes as he purred contentedly. Hermione could feel his chest rattling away on her legs and wondered how long the ginger beast had left. He was getting on in years, and Hermione knew she was going to be devastated when her faithful familiar finally passed on. She didn't have long to dwell on the thought though because the rush of the floo announced Harry's arrival and the noise sent Crookshanks scurrying as fast as his old, bandy legs could carry him. He was getting more and more skittish as he aged.
"Sorry about that," Harry said as he dusted off the ash from the fireplace, "I didn't mean to frighten him."
Hermione stood up and likewise brushed the loose cat hairs off her robes before allowing Harry to pull her into his arms give her a kiss on the cheek. "It's all right."
"You look great, Hermione, but why did you want to me to come so early? Not that I mind..."
Hermione rolled her eyes at Harry's playful grin. If only he knew that she was about to dash his hopes.
"Would you like a drink?" Hermione didn't wait for a response, instead pouring them both a generous three fingers of Old Ogden's from her small but well stocked liquor cabinet. She glanced at the Henri IV, Dudognon Héritage Cognac wistfully. It was an extravagant bottle of liquor, and she was hardly a lush, but she looked forward to the occasion that would be special enough to crack open that particular libation. This evening, however, was a Firewhiskey evening.
Harry eyed the glass of whiskey that Hermione shoved in his hand warily. "What's going on, Hermione? It's a bit soon to be drinking, don't you think? Especially considering that we will probably leave Pansy and Ron's completely pissed like we always do."
"Well then, what's a little head start?" Hermione said laughing manically. "Have a seat, Harry."
Harry sat and watched with astonishment as Hermione threw back the entire tumbler of whiskey in two large, but quick swallows. She closed her eyes as a look of satisfaction passed over her face, and she hardly shuddered at all as the whiskey burned down her throat. Harry could not help but think how frightening she could be sometimes. He took a quick sip of his own drink to hide the fact he was staring when she opened her eyes to look at him.
"We have to break up," Hermione said quickly before she lost her nerve. "I love you, and I think you would be wonderful for me, but something is not right, and for the first time I am going to listen to my instincts. You have to feel it is wrong on some level too."
Harry considered Hermione carefully before speaking. She was hurting him more than he could ever let on, but he'd promised her they would always be friends. "Do you still believe that I am with you out of pity?"
"No!" Hermione said vehemently, "I can't really explain what it is, Harry. I love you, and I mean that. I am perfectly comfortable with you, I just know it won't work, and rather than try to force it to, I want to be honest. For both our sakes."
"Is it gross for you, like kissing your brother?" Harry asked with a grimace.
Hermione could not help but give him a smile, and it was warm and genuine. "Surprisingly, no. It is not like that at all. If we were forty and still single and making good on our pact to be with each other, then it would be different, perhaps. Maybe we should give each other another chance to find someone else. We have been joined at the hip for so long, and everyone just assumed we were together before we officially were, maybe that's one reason why we are single."
"Maybe you, I'm single because I held out for you. Apparently longer than I should have. Are you saying that people don't want you because of me, and that we spend too much time together?" Harry was beginning to get angry. "And why are you telling me this now, right before we are due at dinner party?"
"I'm telling you now because of the dinner party! I don't want to pretend while we are there, and I love spending time with you. I couldn't imagine my life without you; I just don't want to take that particular path. Harry, you promised me you would understand if it came down to this." Hermione's voice was shaking as she fought tears.
Harry downed the rest of his drink, not even attempting to hide the shudder that coursed through him as the liquor left a trail of fire in its wake. "I wasn't expecting it to happen so soon. I really don't know how to respond."
Hermione mumbled something apologetic under her breath, but still would not look at him. Instead she turned the whiskey glass over and over in palm, watching as the firelight reflected prisms off the diamond shaped cuttings on the bottom of the glass.
"No, don't apologise. I was indignant at first because I was being rejected, but you're right. This would never work, at least not now. I don't know what I was thinking." Harry forced a shaky laugh.
Hermione turned toward Harry allowing the tears spill in her relief. "I know what I was thinking. I was thinking you would never hurt me, and it would be a safe option. I was being pragmatic so I accepted when I know I should not have. Do you forgive me?"
Harry wiped away her tears with the pad of his thumb before pulling her close. "There is nothing to forgive, dear Hermione. You are my best friend, always will be, whether you like it or not. Do you still want to go?"
Hermione nodded against his chest. She really did want to go, her instincts told her it was the right thing to do, and listening to her instincts appeared to be the order of the day. It felt good and freeing to not rationalise every little thing. "I just need to fix my makeup."
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Pansy and Ron pulled out all the stops for this particular dinner party. Every inch of their manor seemed to be scrubbed and gleaming afresh from the darkest corner to the new airy curtains in the windows that were letting in more light than they let out. The Parkinson Manor itself was not extravagant in the same way the Malfoy Manor was but it was beautiful in its Victorian tradition, made of brick with white trim and black shutters. The inside boasted of marble floors, rare and expensive portraits, gold filigree around all the baseboards, and highly polished cherry and teak furniture. The grand fireplace in the ballroom was adorned with cherubs carved by Bernini himself that the Parkinson's acquired from Italy several generations ago.
The Malfoy Manor had similar accoutrement, but what Draco appreciated about the Parkinson Manor was the air, the openness, and the welcoming feeling it had about it. Ron's influence in the warmth of the Manor was evident, and combined with Pansy's exquisite taste, the home was spectacular. Draco's own Edwardian mansion was larger and more richly furnished, but the dungeons had been used one too many times, and the stale stench of dark magic hung thick in the air throughout most of the house. The grounds were the only part of the property that brought him any comfort, and more than once he'd had to resist the urge to burn the place to the ground and start anew. But Draco realised that do so would be an historical travesty. The manor contained more artefacts of every sort than some museums he'd been to. Someday he would move out of the manor, but for the time being the oppressiveness was a welcome penance for his sins of the past. Eliza was no help in that regard considering she thought the manor's aura was mysterious and enigmatic, fascinating. Draco was finding more and more reasons to wish her away from the place altogether.
"Welcome, Draco, Eliza! It's so lovely to see you both, and you both look divine!" Pansy gushed as she took their cloaks and hung them up by the floo. Ron shook Draco's hand and kissed Eliza's in the proper greeting of a gentleman. "Harry and Hermione haven't arrived yet so let us wait in the upstairs parlour--,"
Pansy was cut off by the sound of the doorbell, and she grinned at them before retracing her steps. "Never mind, here they are."
Draco fidgeted uncomfortably as he politely waited with Ron and Eliza for Pansy to open the door. Hermione had been on his mind more and more lately, and he was feeling a strange sort of nervous anticipation about seeing her again. It was a foreign feeling that was not unwelcome, and for the life of him he could not imagine why she would make him feel anything at all, let alone nervous. He glanced at Eliza quickly to see an excited grin on her face. She had been talking non-stop about finally being able to spend a whole evening in the sole company of the famous Gryffindor trio. For her, this was just an exciting day with celebrities, but for Draco, it would be facing demons, forgetting hurts, and moving past memories that destroyed souls and took lives.
Eliza turned her radiant smile to Draco. She was dressed in a blood red Muggle gown that made her pale skin even whiter. Her lips were painted red as well, and her blue eyes were heavily lidded under smoky eye shadow and mascara. Her dress hugged every inch of her lithe nineteen year old body, and Draco felt a shudder of repulsion. He rudely did not compliment her on her attire when he picked her up earlier for the evening because he didn't want to be honest, and tell her she looked like a vampire prostitute. He was forcefully reminded of how much effort she put into appearing older than she was, and it was painfully obvious that this time around she completely missed the mark. Four years age difference felt like a generation to Draco all of a sudden. He knew what she was doing; he had been growing more and more distant as the spring wore on, and she was trying to use seduction to lure him back in. Realistically, he was waiting for her term to be over so that she would leave, and he could decide if he really wanted to be with her. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, they say, and if it didn't, he knew what to do.
Draco's thoughts were interrupted by Ron's booming laughter. Harry must have said something upon entry that was terribly funny but Draco did not hear a word. He was transfixed with Hermione, who had just handed her cloak over to an excited and laughing Pansy. Hermione's hair hung in long, rich curls down her back. She was dressed in Draco's favourite colour and she was wearing just enough eye makeup to bring out the green in her otherwise brown eyes. Even from his distance of ten feet or so, Draco could see the change in her eyes. Draco was most impressed by the robes she wore though, out of all the women she was the only one who chose to dress in purely wizarding attire and they hugged her body just enough to leave room for the imagination. Draco appreciated traditional wizarding clothes over any other kind and found it ironic that the only pureblood women in the room were dressed like Muggles. Hermione finally looked up long enough to look into Draco's eyes and his breath caught audibly in his throat. Her smile faltered when she saw him, and he could not read the expression in her eyes, but she quickly redeemed herself and reached out to shake Eliza's hand.
"It is so good to finally see you again," Eliza gushed. "Hopefully this evening we will finally be able to talk."
Draco thought that was a tactless thing to say and he imagined he saw a flash of annoyance pass over Hermione's face. It was gone though before she returned the sentiment and then turned to greet Draco, her hand extended.
Draco reached for her hand, which was warm and small in his own, and brought it to his lips. He placed a light kiss on her knuckles whilst never looking away from her eyes, and the contact of his mouth on her skin sent a shiver down his spine, and he saw goose pimples rise on her arm.
"You look very well," Draco breathed quietly.
Hermione blushed ever so slightly before taking her hand away. She'd felt something when he touched her that she'd never felt before, it warmed her and cooled her at the same time, and she was so confused that she could not even say the word 'hello.' The moment was over as quickly as it began, and the rest of the group was shuffling to the parlour for pre-dinner drinks before Hermione even realised it. Hermione fell in step with Harry, as was her habit, and followed their hosts allowing the cheerful banter of friends to distract her.
Ron poured them all a drink before settling into a comfortable looking chair by the fire. Hermione imagined him wearing a smoking jacket and puffing on an obnoxiously large cigar and said so aloud without realising it.
"He does exactly that sometimes, Hermione," Pansy laughed as she went to sit on the arm of Ron's chair. Ron wrapped a protective arm around her waist.
"I do, it makes me feel rich," then he looked at Pansy adoringly, "and then I remember that I am rich."
Eliza voiced the sentiments that Hermione was feeling. "Ohh, that is so adorable. Aren't they adorable Draco?"
Draco shrugged noncommittally and sat down on the loveseat next to Ron's chair, leaving the couch free for Harry and Hermione. Draco could not help but notice that the pair did not sit very close. He was under the impression they were together somehow. He quickly pushed the information to the back of his mind and responded to Eliza, "Well, it is a far cry from the robes the poor sod was forced to wear to our ball in fourth year."
"Ouch, Malfoy, that was below the belt," Ron said congenially, "but you are correct. Those robes were ghastly."
"I think I have a picture, or two somewhere, Eliza. Remind me and I will show you some time," Harry said eyeing Eliza appreciatively. Draco filed that information as well; maybe Potter liked the slutty look. Or perhaps his maturity was more on a level with Eliza's. Draco frowned at Harry nonetheless for his lack of tact. He saw that Hermione noticed the way Harry was looking at his date too, but she just smiled, and elbowed him discreetly.
"Sorry," Harry whispered quietly to Hermione as Ron and Eliza continued to talk about the Yule Ball and the Triwizard Tournament.
Hermione glanced quickly at Draco, "I'm not offended, but Draco might be. I'm glad to see you are attracted to someone besides me, but don't be an idiot," she hissed in his ear.
"—I was so upset I had to wear those robes, but nobody really said anything. It was Hermione that got everyone's attention that night," Ron was saying causing Hermione to stop chastising Harry and look up.
"Really?" Eliza said, her interested piqued, "what happened?"
"Nothing happened, Eliza. I was wearing the same sort of thing everyone else was that night. I think he is referring to my date, Viktor Krum."
"You went with Viktor Krum?" Eliza practically shrieked. "What was he like? He's so famous."
"I was not talking about Krum, but I suppose that had something to do with it as well," Ron said, his old grudge against the Quidditch player still slightly evident in his tone.
"Hermione looked amazing that night. You see, Eliza, Hermione used to run around with this wild mane of hair, and you would never see her outside of her school robes, but that night she was stunning in periwinkle blue," Pansy said not unkindly, "she was rather pretty that night, wasn't she Harry?"
Before Harry could open his mouth to say anything, Draco responded to everyone's surprise.
"She was the most beautiful girl in the room," Draco said revelling in the blush that rose in Hermione's cheeks. Pansy's gasp redirected his attention to the other two women in the room. Pansy was forcing back a smile and Eliza was staring at him rather stonily. I deserve that, I'm no better than Harry ogling my date, Draco thought before he continued. "Next to you, Pansy, of course. You were my date, after all."
That got a laugh out of most of the people in the room even though it was shaky. Pansy was pleased when the caterer they'd hired for the evening interrupted to announce dinner was ready. The evening was getting off to a not entirely unpleasant, but definitely awkward, beginning.
Once everyone was seated and sipping on a lovely tomato bisque, the conversation turned to more mundane topics such as work and how everyone's families were fairing. Eliza mentioned that her final exams were coming up and that she was beginning to get nervous about them, which resulted in Harry offering up Hermione to provide study schedule advice.
"I'm sure she will do fine without me, Harry," Hermione admonished lightly, "not everyone has your lack of discipline when it comes to schoolwork."
"Well, I would appreciate some help, though. Maybe you remember enough of Hermione's methods to help me yourself, Harry," Eliza said cutting Draco a vengeful smirk which he happily ignored, "after all, she is a busy woman."
Harry wasn't so clueless he did not see what was going on. He mumbled 'we'll see' under his breath and carefully avoided Draco's eyes. If he'd paid any attention though, he would have noticed that Draco did not seem at all perturbed by Harry or Eliza's inappropriate behaviour. He was too busy looking for some sort of jealousy on Hermione's part, and when it was clear that none was forthcoming, he figured that the rumours were untrue, and they must not be together after all.
"How is work, Draco?" Hermione asked him politely, attempting to return the conversation back to their jobs and nothing else.
Draco set down the wine glass he was about to sip out of, and Hermione could not help but notice the little light that went on his eyes. He clearly adored his work as much she adored hers. "It is going well; I have almost finished my preparations for recovering the Egyptian Ankh I have been searching for. If all goes well, I will be able to go straight to King Tut's tomb, take a few days to work out the wards, get in find the Ankh, and get out."
"Will it be dangerous? I'm afraid I am unaware of the history behind the Ankh that you are speaking of," Hermione replied.
"It is a fascinating story, but perhaps only to me, and quite a long one, I don't wish to bore everyone with it now," Draco said the light dimming in his eyes a little.
Eliza wore an expression that clearly stated she'd heard the story before and hoped that Hermione would not press for details. Harry and Ron wore a similar expression but only because they weren't interested in the details. Pansy was observing the group as was her speciality, and if she didn't know better, she would guess that Draco and Hermione would make a much better match than Draco and Eliza. Her scheming mind was thinking of ways to throw Harry and Eliza together frequently during the course of the evening.
"Perhaps another time," Hermione said hopefully. She really was interested, and for some unexplainable reason she felt pulled towards Draco, as if the further he moved away from her the more lost she would be. It was an unfamiliar but not a wholly undesirable feeling, she just wondered if Draco felt it too.
Once the main courses were served, a marinated quail breast and leg, confit foie gras, and green bean salad, the conversation ceased slightly as everyone enjoyed their meal.
"This really is delicious, Pansy," Harry commented between mouthfuls.
"I wish I could take credit, but the whole thing is catered. It is the one vice that Ron has yet to forgive me for, my lack of culinary skills. But I am improving, aren't I?" she asked her fiancée.
"You are, my dear, which leads me to the reason why we invited you here tonight. We have finally settled on a date for the wedding, it will be on the first of June, and I wanted to ask you, Harry to be my best man," Ron said.
"Of course, mate. Congratulations on finally setting a date. We were beginning to believe you two had settled into domestic bliss so well, you forgot the small matter of getting married," Harry quipped.
"And, I was hoping that you would be willing to be a bridesmaid for me, Hermione. Tracey Davis is going to be my Maid of Honour; she was happy to get my letter and said that she will be returning from South America especially for my wedding. Did you know she has been doing a lot of work healing for the Foreign Magical Relief Mission? I do miss her," Pansy was clearly pleased with the work her best friend was doing.
Hermione smiled graciously, surprised that she'd been offered a bridesmaid position. "I did hear, and I am interested in learning about her experiences. I would be honoured to be in your bridal party, Pansy."
"Will you be here on the day, Eliza?" Pansy asked, "I don't want to be frightfully rude and not extend an invitation to you, especially considering that Draco has already agreed a few days ago to be a groomsman." Pansy said.
"I really don't know if I will be here," Eliza replied honestly.
"Well, you are invited either way," Ron replied raising his glass. "I would like to propose a toast to my fiancée, and my friends, may our futures be bright."
"Here, here," everyone chorused before drinking.
After dinner, the group retired to the parlour once again for more drinks and conversation. Hermione had been unnaturally quiet for most of the evening and found that being at an event where she was not required to talk was quite pleasant. It was not long however, before the palaver turned to the latest news on any remaining Death Eaters that still avoided capture, and subtle references to Hermione's kidnapping and Draco's rescue mission.
Suddenly the air in the room became stifling hot and heavy. Hermione felt her chest constricting, and was afraid she was going to have a full blown panic attack. She stood as calmly as she could and excused herself to the bathroom, but instead of going to the bathroom she went outside on a balcony that was through the ballroom, and extended over the rear of the house. Memories of the kidnapping were flashing through her mind, and she fought to suppress them to no avail.
Back in the parlour, Harry started to worry about Hermione after almost ten minutes had gone by and she still hadn't returned. He had a terrible sense of deja vu and quickly stood up to go look for her. Draco sensed what he was feeling, and would be lying if he said he was not concerned. He felt that Hermione was safe, but he sensed an inner turmoil that was hurting her terribly. He followed Harry out of the room and did not repress his sigh of relief when he saw Hermione through the open ballroom and balcony doors at the end of the hallway. Harry made a move to go after her, but Draco put a hand on his arm.
"Let me," he said.
Harry looked at him uncertainly for a moment, but then shrugged and returned to the parlour to reassure everyone that all was well.
Draco went through the ballroom doors, and quietly closed them behind him. He was able to slip out onto the balcony quietly before she noticed him behind her. She started slightly, turning her head just enough to look at him, and then she quickly looked away. Hermione wanted him there, but she did not know what to say to him. He was handsome in the moonlight, with his mysterious grey eyes, and his alabaster skin stretched over perfectly crafted muscle. He was a combination of genetics and breeding that should make any Norse god burn with envy at his beauty.
"Do you want me to leave?" he asked quietly taking out a cigarette.
"No," Hermione replied without turning around, "did Harry send you?"
"He was going to come, but I stopped him," Draco replied.
Hermione smelled the smoke and turned to face him. "Why?"
"So I could have a cigarette," he lied; he really just wanted to talk to her. "It is a filthy habit. Luckily Eliza never complains because wizards don't get sick from these kinds of things."
"I agree, it is a filthy habit," Hermione remarked, not really sure what he wanted her to say. The remark about Eliza settled uneasily in her stomach.
Draco looked at Hermione thoughtfully. Her hair had fallen forward across her right eye, and she was hugging herself as if she were cold.
"I meant what I said earlier, about how beautiful you looked at the Yule Ball. But it pales in comparison to you tonight," he took a few steps toward her and leaned on the railing next to her.
Hermione didn't respond, instead she watched the smoke from his fag curl slowly. Then she shifted her eyes and watched as his elegant lips wrapped around the butt as he pulled deeply. She could see the relevance of the sex appeal in cigarette advertisements.
Draco felt her eyes on his cigarette. "I should have asked; do you wish me to quit?"
"Quit?" Hermione asked, confused. "Yes," she found herself saying before she could stop herself, "forever."
Draco was stunned at the blunt honesty of her answer. He could not help but wonder why she cared. Nevertheless he stubbed out the cigarette and vanished it along with the rest of the pack in his pocket.
"Why did you do that?" Hermione asked dumbly.
Draco looked at her intensely, "Because you wanted me too. Are you really all right, Hermione? I have to know, have you been able to tell Harry, or anyone, about what happened to you? You can't keep it all bottled up inside."
"Why do you care?" It was not a defensive question, she really wanted to know.
"I don't know. You walked in the house tonight, and I lost all the reasons why I never spent any time with you before."
Draco locked eyes with Hermione and asked her a million silent questions. She could sense that her eyes reflected the same myriad of questions.
"Are you dating Harry?" That was one she could answer.
"No."
Draco's relief was visible. "Will you go out with me?"
Draco seemed just as stunned at what he just said as Hermione was. He couldn't explain it though, she was all he wanted and he was one to trust his instincts. Her hair comb saved his life, that was enough to get her in his mind, but only one evening in her presence was enough to embed her in his soul. He had to be with her.
"No."
Draco felt his heart breaking for some unfathomable reason. "Why not?"
"Because you are with Eliza," Hermione replied.
"Then I will end it with her tonight. Right now, if that is what it takes," Draco said earnestly reaching up to push the hair hanging over her eye out of her face. "I want to know you, Hermione."
His touch was like electricity and she shuddered. "You already know the worst about me."
"I do not. I know the worst thing that might have happened to you, but that is all," Draco said still looking her directly in the eyes.
"You would still want me? Even though I—"
Draco cut her off with a finger over her lips. "Yes. That does not matter to me. Will you go out with me? We can talk about the Ankh."
"I don't know what to say. This is so sudden; you go from hating me, to saving me, to wanting to date me?"
"You don't follow your gut very often do you?"
Hermione looked away. "Not before tonight."
"Is that a yes?"
"I won't date someone who is in a relationship," Hermione replied not really believing that she was giving in. This could be some horrible trick and she would be walking right into it. But he knew what happened to her, and he was still asking her. Draco Malfoy of all people. Her poor self-esteem was attempting her to reason with herself, but her face was still warm where he'd touched it, and she wanted more of that. She wanted more electricity and she wanted to feel the gentle caress of a man, not force and pain.
"I said I would end it," he replied more earnestly, "please."
"I'm frightened, Draco," she said. His name was sweet on her tongue. "There are some things about you don't know, and won't like."
"Hermione," he breathed, "you're perfect. You are beautiful, a war hero, intelligent, career focussed, and a million other things I don't have to time to say right now, but if you give me a chance I will try to tell them all to you."
The one thing that had been weighing heavily on her heart, and wounding her more than anything finally spilled out of her mouth, "I'm not a virgin."
Draco looked at her in confusion, he knew that of course, but did not know how to respond. "Neither am I," was all he said.
"No Draco, you don't understand. I was a virgin before I got kidnapped. I am scared to death of having a man touch me because I don't know what it feels like when it is not forced. You don't want to be with me because I might not ever let you touch me, or see me, my scars." Hermione was fighting back tears. Of all the people she could be telling this too, it had to be him.
Draco was undone with fury for the people who hurt her and for himself for not getting to her sooner. She took a step back from him. Draco could be a frightening person when he chose to be.
"I wish I could bring those bastards back to life just so I could kill them again," he growled angrily.
"That is exactly why I didn't tell Harry anything. I don't want him to feel that kind of vengeance is necessary. They are gone, I need to move on, and I can't if all the people I care about are only thinking about taking revenge on people who are no longer here to suffer retribution," she choked out through the tears that were finally falling.
Draco stepped forward and pulled Hermione into his arms. He buried his face in her hair and immediately recognised the slightly fruity scent of Sleakeasy's. He couldn't help but wonder what the natural scent of her hair was, but pushed the thought aside. Hermione didn't put her arms around him just yet but she smelt him too, he smelled like parchment and sandalwood. Her body was tense and he willed her to relax.
"I would never hurt you, Hermione. I am surprised to hear that you were a virgin, because honestly, you are very attractive, but that does not make me want you any less," Draco whispered into her hair. "Please believe me."
Slowly, Hermione wrapped her arms around him. He was long and lean, and Hermione wanted to touch more of him. For her entire life she thought she men just didn't want her, but maybe she was rejecting them all before they had a chance, just so she could be free for when the right one came along.
"I believe you."
"Then go out with me. Just one date. I need to know if this pull I'm feeling towards you is something special. Can't you feel it too? I am sick of denying myself, Hermione. You must be sick of it, too. You are so intrepid all the time. I don't need to see you every day to know that. Let me take care of you. Hell, if not me, at least tell Harry the truth so he can help you."
Hermione closed her eyes, willing the tears to stop falling. She was giving in; all of her senses recognised nothing but the man holding her. She feared that if she moved away from him she would lose her ability to use all of them. "You have to end it with Eliza first."
Draco pulled Hermione away so he could look in her eyes. "Done. I think Harry wants her anyway."
Hermione could not help but smile at how true that probably was, but she just hoped he took her dating Draco with good grace.
"You're smile is so beautiful. I want to see more of it," Draco said smiling himself, "Will you go out with me tomorrow?"
"I usually have lunch with my parents on Sundays. But I'm free after," Hermione said eager for the next day already. "We should get back. Everyone will wonder."
"I don't care."
Hermione didn't really either but they left for the parlour anyway. Draco wanted to hold her hand but he refrained, respecting her wishes that they don't do anything until he was single. He shook his head at the direction the night had turned. He arrived with his girlfriend, no real intentions to end it with her, but now eager to be rid of her as quickly as possible. He didn't believe in love at first sight, but his research had taught him to believe in fate and trails, and fate had given him a hair comb that led to Hermione, which led him to feeling a passion he'd never known he was capable of.
Later that evening Harry admitted an attraction to Eliza and was only a little upset when she told him she would be dating Draco.
"I still love you, Hermione, and I am a little jealous, but I am happy for you. You look happy for the first time since you came back."
"I am happy, Harry. I am scared to death of what is going to happen, but for once I am going to jump in head first. But Harry, there is something that Draco and I talked of shortly earlier this evening that I want to tell you about. I am too tired tonight, but will you meet me here for breakfast? It is going to be difficult for me to say, but Draco is right. I should have told you before."
"Hermione, you are starting to worry me." Harry took both of her hands.
"It can wait until tomorrow, and there is nothing to be worried about. It is over, I just need to get it off my chest." Hermione led him to the Floo. "Now go, I am tired."
Harry gave her a quick hug before stepping into the fireplace. "I love you, you're still my best friend," he said before the flames whooshed him away.
Just before Hermione fell asleep she heard a tapping on her bedroom window. Surprised, she opened it to see Draco's eagle owl bearing a message. Hermione untied the scroll and fed the owl a treat. He promptly flew away which meant that Draco would not be waiting for a reply. Hermione unrolled the scroll with shaking fingers. Was he cancelling already? Her heart beat wildly beneath her breastbone as she read. Relief washed over her so much she actually collapsed back on the bed.
My dearest Hermione,
As per your wish, and mine, I have successfully ended it with Eliza. There was much anger and yelling on her part, but I assure you it is over without the smallest hint of regret.
I now belong only to you and I have never felt so free in my life.
I will be at your flat to pick you up promptly at three. Dress comfortably.
Thinking of you,
Draco Malfoy
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A/N: Not beta'd just so you know. Reviews are appreciated. Some people get tons of them and no offence to anyone out there, but how do they do it? Even some of the crappy stories I've read have hundreds of reviews. Is it because I don't hold my chapters ransom? I hope that's it because I would never do such a thing.
Anyway, someone mentioned to me that people would be more likely to read my stories if I titled my chapters. Is that really true? I never really considered it before but now I am dying to know it is true.