Vienna

Chapter 14

AN: See, I told you guys I would update! I'll save you guys the psycho-babble and just say thank you to Anna, my lovely beta, and to everyone who reviewed and/or added me to their favorites/updates You guys really do make me smile.

Hermione Granger

It's amazing how, in a matter of minutes, everything I had worked so hard for could just turn to crap.

Unbelievably fucking amazing.

How every bloody feeling that I had fought to repress could just somehow pop right back into place, like they had never really been gone at all.

I stood in the doorway of Emma's room, watching the steady rise and fall of her little chest as she slept, most likely down for the count. She slept like a rock, much like someone else I knew.

Honestly, who was I trying to kid?

For so long I tried to ignore how I really felt, tried to put on a happy face and pretend that everything would be okay, even when I knew that I couldn't do this much longer, whatever this is. I tried so hard to be strong for Emma and everyone I cared about, that I neglected my own feelings. And as much as I hate to admit it, I'm not strong enough.

I'm not strong enough to live much longer with out him, and to keep up this "smile and get through it" facade. I needed him more than I realized I would, when I first found out about Emma. God, I see so much of Draco in her.

But seeing him today, and remembering all the pain that he put me through, and remembering how much I loved and needed him, I was still torn. I thought that after all those years of wishing, hoping, dreaming that he would come back, I would be happy. But I wasn't. Instead of running into his arms, I wanted to bash his Goddamn face in.

Who was he to leave me like that? To make a promise to me that, no matter what our future held for us, and no matter what anyone would have said or done, we would have stayed together. Because he loved me. Because he claimed that we had a love so strong, nothing and nobody could get in between it.

Because I stupidly fell for it – every spoon-fed piece of bullshit.

That summer I gave him everything, my heart included. And instead of the happily ever after that he promised me would be waiting when I got home, I returned to broken promises and a five-week-old surprise.

I should have known then that it was too good to be true. I mean, come on, the Slytherin Prince and the Griffyndor Princess? I knew better than to believe in fairytales. Nowhere in any of the books I have read does it say that prince rescues princess, prince knocks up princess, and then prince runs away. It doesn't really make for happily ever after.

It was still early in the morning – the sun just barely starting its ascent over the horizon – as I nursed a rather large cup of coffee in my hands, and wrapped a fuzzy bathrobe around my body. I shivered as I felt a gust of wind come in through an open window, even though it was still early September.

I loved to watch the sunrise, as it was usually the only time in my day that I had to myself to just think. It was calming, and like a little reminder to myself that I had made it through to another day. The sun was bright this morning, and it felt good against my face as its light streamed through the open window.

Emma started to stir in her sleep eventually, even though I knew she was far from waking. Casting one more quick look at her tiny body, all curled up in her bed, I turned and shuffled into the kitchen busying my hands with making breakfast.

No more than ten minutes had to have passed before I heard a light tapping against my window, interrupting my cooking. Slowly, I made my way across the kitchen to open the window to stop the annoying rapping noise. Waiting, was a large gray barn owl that swooped inside, and perched itself on the edge of a counter, barley giving me enough time to move aside.

It hooted a few times before sticking out one leg towards me, anxiously waiting for me to untie the attached letter. The owl was unfamiliar, and it was early, long before most people usually woke for the day. Who would be writing to me, I had no idea.

The owl waited – albeit a little impatiently – for me to untie the letter from its leg and feed it a treat. It didn't make any move to leave; instead it just sat there and stared. It was a little unnerving, to tell you the truth.

I turned my attention back to the letter. The parchment felt heavy in my hands, thick and expensive. Whoever picked it out obviously could afford the best. I ran my fingers over the elegant writing that spelled out my name, and then over the wax stamp that sealed it closed – I couldn't make out what it was supposed to say.

Though I didn't know what I had to be afraid of, I cautiously moved my finger under the seal, ripping it open. I could only guess who it could be from at ten to six in the morning. I unfolded the elegant paper, and scanned my eyes over the letter quickly, until I reached the signature at the bottom.

I breathed a sigh of relief I didn't know I was holding.

Much more slowly, I read the letter again, hoping to retain it's meaning this time.

Miss Granger,

Sorry to disturb you so early in the morning – I hope I didn't wake you – but I wanted to make sure I got in contact with you before you left for the ministry. As of last night, something's come up, and I'm not going to be able to make it into the office this morning. I'm aware of all the work we have, and of the gravity of it, and I was hoping that you'd consider coming to me, so we could still get some work done. Please let me know as soon as you receive this letter.

Sincerely,

Blaise Zabini

I thought for a moment before digging out a piece of parchment and a quill from a nearby draw, scribbling out a sloppy yes and the time that I would meet him, and sending the owl on it's way.

When the owl was finally gone, I collapsed into one of the chairs surrounding my kitchen table. Why was I so afraid of that letter, what did I really expect it to be about? Part of me almost wished it was from him, now that he knew the truth, especially when I felt the expensive parchment in my hands. It was something he would buy.

The other part of me, however, knew I was crazy for thinking like that. Almost six years go by without a single word from him, and yet, the day after he finds out the truth of what he left behind, he writes me a letter? Even I know that sounds ridiculous.

I kept playing out yesterday afternoon in my head. Out of all the times I had imagined that moment, I never imagined myself walking away. Giving him a good kick you-know-where? Yes. Walking away? Never.

Ugh.

My arms were resting on the table, and I let my head fall into them with a good bang. Sometimes I just wish I could scream or yell or cry or rip all the hair out of my head; anything to release looming pressure over my chest that I felt whenever I thought about him.

In the past, so many people tried to talk to me about it, but there was only so much they could do. I would talk to Ginny, careful to leave out anything to give his identity way, but there was only so much she could do. She couldn't bring him back, and I felt guilty for making her my emotional punching bag.

It would come in waves too. One minute I would be out with friends, laughing and enjoying myself, and the next I would be a mess somewhere, simply because I saw something that reminded me of him. Just recently it had been getting better.

I could feel my mind running in circles. The same circles it's been running in for the past six years.

I sounded like a broken record. A pathetic, lonely, broken record.

A quick look at the clock bought me out of my thoughts. I hadn't realized how long I had been sitting there. I finished cooking, quickly throwing some eggs on the burner and popping a few slices of bread in the toaster before I went to wake up Emma.

…

"Emma…" I said in a slightly sing-song voice.

There was no answer.

"Emma…" I said again, this time with a small poke.

She didn't answer me; instead she turned away from me onto her stomach, refusing to acknowledge my presence.

Fighting with Emma over waking up had become somewhat of a routine. Even though I knew exactly how to wake her up, I always felt bad for doing so. Instead I'd let her win the first few rounds and sleep a few minutes longer, before tickling her sides and waking her right up.

Her silky blond hair was a mess across her pillow, half covering her peaceful little face. I used the hand that wasn't trying to wake her up to brush some of the hair covering her face, off.

Every time I see her I know that I made the right choice. Nothing is more important to me than she is, and I'm pretty sure it would be impossible for me to love her anymore. Everything I did in life I did for her.

Finally I gave in, giving her sides a slight tickle, "Emma, baby, it's time to wake up. You have school today."

She shook her head, hair swinging wildly around her, "Five more minutes, please Mummy?" Her groggy voice pleaded with me.

"No can do, baby girl," I said, giving her bum a light pat before standing up off her bed, "you've had your five minutes, and now it's time to wake up."

She sat up and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, pouting a little, "But Mummy, I was having such a good dream!"

I raised an eyebrow in question, "Oh? Would you like to share?"

"Nope. If I do then it won't come true, you know that! And I really, really, really, want this one to come true!"

Emma had this strange belief that, like a wish on a birthday cake, if she didn't say anything about a dream, then it would come true. I could try for hours to ask her about what she dreamt, but she was always adamant about not sharing, unless of course it was a bad dream.

I have no idea where it came from.

Leaning down, I gave her a quick kiss on her forehead before reminding that as of today she had to wear her uniform to school, and then leaving the room to get dressed myself.

Once I looked half way presentable – I really didn't care at this point – I sent a patronus to the office to let them know that I would be working out of Blaise's house.

I could feel that this was going to be another slow day, and I wasn't particularly looking forward to it. Emma was already halfway done with her food by the time I entered the kitchen, dressed and ready to go, and sat down at the table to eat. I didn't really have an appetite.

After wolfing down her food and helping me clean up, Emma jumped out of her seat, grabbed her backpack, and shot towards the fireplace faster than I have ever seen her move before. After the… er… incident… her first day of school, she's really started to like it. That alone took a tremendous weight off my back.

With all the worrying I do, it's nice to have one less thing to think about.

"Mummy let's go! We're going to be late!" Emma called from the fireplace, backpack already on her back, both arms crossed in front of her chest. I had to close my eyes for a second to get an image of Draco out of my mind. She's like a mini-me sometimes, I swear.

With relatively calm nerves, I flooed with Emma to school before entering their fire place to floo to the Zabini Manor, where I was greeted by a timid house elf that would lead me to Blaise's study.

From what I could tell after only seeing so little of the Manor, it had to be quite beautiful. The hallway leading to the study was long, with marble floors, high ceilings, walls painted deep green, and large bay windows that let in plenty of sunshine.

The study was also just as elegant, with wood paneled walls, plush carpeting that covered the entire floor, and a rather large marble fireplace. Sitting behind the desk was Blaise, who stood up to take my hand when he heard me enter the room.

"Granger," he said, gesturing towards the two armchairs stationed next to the fireplace where we took a seat, "sorry for change of plans, I hope I didn't inconvenience you. Something, er, just came up last night which won't allow me to leave my house."

He seemed uncomfortable talking about whatever it was that was keeping him here, so I let his vague answer slid, "No, it's no problem at all." I answered with a smile, "So have we heard anything new?"

Blaise, obviously more comfortable talking about work, jumped up to grab the file from his desk before sitting back down. "Well, we've handed the file over to Jennsen so he can put some aurors on the case. Like we agreed upon yesterday, there's something very fishy about this. I'd hate to have to bring charges up against her if she's innocent."

I skimmed the folder again, to refresh my memory, before agreeing. "I think that if we can nail this guy – I mean if the aurors can nail this guy – then we certainly have enough to fall back on when the time comes to prosecute. His record pretty much speaks for itself. It shouldn't be that hard to get the support of the jury."

"Maybe we should come up with some kind of plan?" Blaise suggested.

"I don't know, this whole thing just seems kind of odd… It's like they bought this case up against her with no real investigation. The only thing we have against her is that she's violated her custody agreement. We," I gestured between the two of us, "as the prosecution are supposed to be prosecuting her for that reason, and yet, we're doing it almost backwards, by claiming she's the innocent one."

"So you think we should drop the charges?"

Blaise looked confused as he picked up the file and leafed through it again like it held the answer he was looking for. Hell, I was even confusing myself. I took a second before answering him to gather my thoughts. "No, I think we should put this case aside, pending an investigation of this Kingpin guy. If she's innocent, then we have no case, anyway. Why waste our time on it?"

It took Blaise a moment before agreeing and then excusing himself to contact Anna and explain the situation. In his absence, I took another look around the study, poking around the coffee table in front of the chairs we were sitting on. There wasn't much: a few old newspapers, two glasses that hadn't been cleaned up, and an older-looking leather bound book.

Curiosity getting the better of me, I reached over and grabbed the book off the table, turning it over in my hands and running my fingers over title: Othello. Interesting.

I flipped the front cover open and started skimming through the pages until landing on one with the top corner folded over. Quickly, I scanned over the prose only to stop when I saw that a few of the lines were lightly underlined. I read them quietly, mulling over their meaning, "She loved me for the dangers I had passed/ And I loved her that she did pity them./ This is the only witchcraft I have used." Huh, weird.

"What were you saying?" I jumped a little out of my seat, not expecting Blaise to come back into the room so quickly. "Sorry," he said laughing "didn't mean to scare you. What is that?"

"Oh, no worries. It's, um, a book – Othello – found it on the table." I put it back on the table.

Blaise stared at it for a few seconds before shaking his head, "Huh, I don't remember taking that out."

A moment passed in silence before Blaise shook his head again almost as if to say, "moving on". I took the initiative, "So what did Anna have to say?" I asked.

"Oh, she agrees, although she wants us to check with the ex first, just to avoid any problems." I nodded. "We don't need him breathing down our backs the whole time."

I stood up to leave, "Great, I'll check up wi-…"

"Oi, Blaise!" An oddly familiar, yet groggy, voice interrupted from somewhere over by the door, "you wouldn't happen to have any hangover potions lying around would you? My bloody head feels like it's going to explode. And do you think you could get a house-elf to look at my hand? I think your effing gate broke it."

When the voice stopped, I turned.

Our eyes met.

The room went silent – you could have heard a fucking pindrop in China.

I froze.

Out of the corner of my eye I could see Blaise stand up to try to make a run for it, muttering something about staying out of it. I pointed at the chair, "Sit." I commanded, never taking my eyes of him.

I felt something bubbling in my chest, rising from my gut. I was mad. No – worse – I was pissed off.

"What the hell is this?" I hissed, my voice cracking along the way. I would not cry. I would not cry. "What the hell is this!" My voice gained authority and volume, this time directing my anger at Blaise. "Did you do this? Is this why you couldn't come into the office?"

Blaise looked at his feet.

Draco took a step towards me, one arm outstretched as if he wanted to reach out to me, "Hermione…"

"No." I shook my head wildly, and backed up. "No, just stay away from me. No. Just, No."

This was not happening.

For six years I dreamed of this day – the day I'd finally get to confront Draco. So many different scenarios have run through my head, along with millions of dialogues that I'd planed out specifically for this day.

But my mind was blank.

He took another step forward, and I took another step back. "Hermione, please," he begged, "just let me explain…"

"Explain?" I laughed manically, "You want a chance to explain yourself? Who do you think you are!"

Again he took another step forward, and I another back. I was getting close to the wall now. He put his hands up in a gesture similar to surrender, "Please, I know I don't deserve it, I know I don't, but if you could just give me five minutes!"

I could hear the anguish in his voice, and I could see the pain on his face. When I didn't make any move to stop him, he kept talking. I could tell he was choosing his words carefully.

"Hermione, I'm sorry. I'm so, so, so sorry." His voice was pleading, "I really am, you have no idea how much I regret what I did. I was stupid! I acted like a bloody fucking idiot! I'm sorry! If I had known…"

"Stop." I could feel something inside of me snap, and all the rage and anger I had been holding down came exploding out. Everything I had been feeling for the past six years came gushing out of me in tidal waves. "Stop. Right. There. How dare you! How dare you say that! 'If I had known…' Bullshit! You're pathetic! If you had known, you would have what? You would have come running back? You would have wanted to be with me? You would have felt obligated to be with me? I was not, and am not a charity case! I don't need you to pity me! I've had enough people pitying me for as long as I can remember and it needs to stop!"

I took a breath.

Draco opened his mouth.

I kept on yelling – I wasn't done yet.

"You, Draco Malfoy, are a coward. You run away at the first sign of something being wrong, acting purely on your own selfish desires! Did you ever once think about me while you were off somewhere pitying yourself? Did you ever stop for a second to consider how I'd feel when I went home to find you not there?"

I took another breath and rubbed my temples.

"I waited for you for months, and I got nothing. Emma's been waiting for you for six years. She's expecting you to come riding out of the sunset and sweep her off her feet! Emma doesn't need a coward, she needs a father!"

Draco visibly flinched.

I didn't care.

And then, just like it had started, the anger passed, and I was left standing in the middle of Blaise's study trying to catch my breath after my tirade.

It felt like a ten-ton weight had just been lifted off my chest. After six years I had finally been able to say my piece, and it felt great.

But when I looked back at Draco, my heart sank. He was just standing there, with such a broken and bewildered look on his face that it broke my heart.

It didn't feel so great anymore.

This time I was the one who took a step forward, while he took a step back. "Draco…" I started, but he put his hand up.

"Just... just give me a second, here." He collapsed backwards into a chair, propping his elbows up on his knees and resting his head in his hands. Glancing around the room I noticed that at some point during my fit Blaise must have left the room, because he was nowhere to be seen.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke. "That was not fair. I know you're upset with me," I snorted, "okay maybe upset isn't exactly a strong enough word, but I didn't deserve that."

I sat across from him on the coffee table, our knees barley an inch apart. Being this close to him, I could feel his warmth, and I had to restrain myself from reaching out and laying a hand on his leg.

"Well, what did you want me to say, Draco? It's a hard knock life but the sun will come out tomorrow? It just doesn't work that way." I searched his face, and tried to look him in the eye, but he was staring at he floor. "I know this isn't fair, and I'm sorry I went crazy like that, but like it or not, this is the way things are. Unfortunately, it is what it is. We can't change the past."

"I know that." He was mumbling, but I could tell he voice was strained. He sounded like Emma always does just before she starts to cry.

"Do you, do you really? Because it looks to me like you have this "woe is me" crap down pretty well. You're not the only one in pain; you're not the only one who got hurt. If I remember correctly, you're the one who left me." Still no movement.

"Look, I'm sorry I yelled like that, but I just needed to get it off my chest – it had to be said." I stopped for a second to let my words sink in.

Nothing, not even a flinch.

Sighing, I stood up and tried to make my voice sound as soothing as I could, "Draco, I'm sorry. When you want to talk, I'll listen. I promise, no more screaming."

Again, he made no attempt to move.

Hesitantly, I bent down and placed one soft kiss on the back of his head, letting my fingers run through his silky hair for one painful second.

It wasn't until I was halfway out the door that I heard him let out a single broken sob.

AN: So, what did you think? I know everyone seems a little bipolar right now, but just bear with me; this chapter kind of wrote itself as I went. If you leave me a review and tell me what you think, I'll give you a sneak peak of the next chapter! So, review!

Bye for now