Don't try and get me confused.
Cause I do understand, that sometimes people need help.
That they may need a hand when there are problems going on.
A thing you have to get straight,
Is that you don't own my hand.
And I don't owe you a thing.
So don't think about how sorry you feel when now your're treated so bad.
This common place is so lazy, old, and tired
All your ideas are so fucking uninspired.
- The Fight, Avenged Sevenfold
"I don't even know where to begin."
Or how I'm supposed to explain anything or everything without revealing that I'm a witch, for that matter.
"From the very beginning, love!" Andrea laughs as she plonks down the tea and chocolate sprinkle cupcakes we ordered and sits across from me in our booth.
Like I propositioned, we are presently sitting in Lenora's Bakery, my all-time favourite spot for sweets. It's so pleasant; the walls are a calm mauve, subtle art prints plastered onto them. The half of the bakery that isn't a kitchen is a seating area, like a bistro. It's very quaint, barely noticeable when walking past on outside streets. But I love coming here because it's quiet. A private place to read and talk in silence.
Not to mention the desserts are to die for.
Every time (and it never fails) I eat a cupcake here for instance, I seriously feel like my mood shifts up 3 notches for the rest of the day. I always fall asleep happy that night.
That good.
I discovered it 5 years ago one summer afternoon when I was searching for a 'special' shop that held a book to help instruct me on how to properly use the time-turner. It's actually 3 streets down from here, called Larkin & Larkin, but I misread McGonagall's directions when she owled them to me. In my excitement and haste, I forgot to bring them with me, thinking that since I'd been walking on these streets for so long I'd be just fine.
Wrong. Frustrated after 30 minutes of walking on a seemingly wild goose chase, I realized I was ravenous as I looked into a random window. I saw and smelt fresh raspberry pie from the inside. I peered inside the door sorely tempted, having brought enough cash for the book, and only the book. I'm irritatingly responsible like that. Plus, it's pounds here not galleons.
But Lenora saw me eyeing the cakes and gave me a slice for free. It was so delicious and I was so touched by her kindness in my grumbly-stomached demeanour that I came back the next day. I paid her in full which she refused, but then I just bought 2 dozen cupcakes. And, yes, I did eat them all myself.
Anyways, that was a long tangent. I'm hungry after all that nostalgia.
I pick a cupcake up from our box of 4 and peel off the wrapper, take a bite, then place it on the square plate with my tea. I absentmindedly stir my drink while I chew, fully aware but ignoring the interested stare Andrea is giving me.
"So…?"
"So..?" I repeat innocently, pouring a bit of milk from the saucer into the cup.
"Are we going to start talking or what?" she prods, still smiling.
"Mmhm" I reply, shifting my vision away and pretending like I want to stare out at the street for a second. I really just need to think through what it is I want to reveal and keep hidden.
I lift the cup of tea to my lips and take a huge gulp to avoid immediate conversation.
"Ouch!" The tea is scalding! Oh my god. I release the cup from my hand because of the horrible feeling in my mouth.
"Are you alright, Hermione?" I feel a fool as Andrea snatches the cup from my slackened grip, its contents already spilt all over the table. Resting it down on her plate, she looks at me with a concerned face.
"Yeah…I'm fine." Owwwww. I begin to feel the onset of the horrid sensation that is burnt tongue. The layered skin now dead, brittle, and unable to taste.
I cross my arms and stare down at my wrists wrapped together uncomfortably.
"Hermione," Andrea starts. "It's alright if you don't want to discuss anything personal with me. If it's too hard," she continues as she wipes the dredges of liquid with our napkins. "Really. I just think it's good to talk about situations such as this, especially if it's a touchy subject with parents or friends….I don't know the whole story. Clearly Draco affects you; I've never seen you so flustered, you're always level headed and guarded."
God, good thing she doesn't know how I was about Ron in sixth year.
She also doesn't know that Malfoy kissed me…
Oh god, he kissed me! I feel like a confused 13 year old.
Looking up, she gives me a warm reassuring smile, and I weakly attempt to return it. But my head is so clouded and confused with so many contradictory thoughts about how I feel about him, and about Ron, and how I'm so tired of pushing my attraction away when it's so obviously there, that my mind is going to explode.
I just don't want Malfoy to know that I find him attractive, moreover tolerable, because he doesn't deserve it yet. I don`t want anyone else to know because of how horrible he`s been. They'll think I'm mad.
And on top of all that, even if I want to spill the beans to Andrea about all of this emotional mess, how can I? How can I tell her anything without truthful background information to give her context? I'd just be lying half the time to cover that I'm a witch.
"It isn't that I don't want to tell you, Andrea." I say finally. "It's just…."
"Complicated?"
"Yeah," I reply, letting out a breath and a small titter. I put my hand down and accidentally drench my hand in the puddle of tea. "Oh god, this is such a mess. Hold on, I'm going to go ask Lenora for a cloth or something to clean it up."
I slide out of the booth and walk over to the counter, where Lenora is organizing a bouquet of flowers in a bright purple vase.
"Hi Lenora,"
"Hey sweetheart."
I'm so sorry but I accidentally – "
"You should tell her, you know."
"Tell her…?"
I give her a questioning gaze, but all she does is stare at the arrangement scrutinizingly, switching a rose with a white orchid. Lenora's wizened, wrinkled face flickers to my confused one, her protuberant hazel eyes surveying mine with a grin. She's a very grand looking woman; tall, thin, obviously beautiful in her youth, with sun- tanned skin and miles long grey hair.
"Tell her about the boy, of course, dear."
The knowing look in her expression signals to me with certainty that she knows. And she knows that I know she knows. If that all makes sense.
But the only question that remains is how?
How could she in any realm of hell know about Malfoy?
How could she - ? When did she - ?
"I- I don't know what you mean," I admit truthfully. Maybe I'm wrong about this, maybe she's just completely loopy.
"Oh, don't play foolish with me, Hermione."
"I am really serious when I say I'm confused…"
A soft smile splays on her lips.
"Well, guess it's time to fess up. I've known you were a witch ever since you stepped foot into this shop 5 years ago," she responds nonchalantly.
WHAT?
"B-but how? Are you -?"
"I'm a seer, dear." She interrupts. "I foresaw a young girl with great potential stumbling into my shop; I didn't know when or whom that would be. The future is never crystal clear. But in you came that very same day; a visit unplanned as you were so obviously flustered. I knew it had to be you because most wizards aren't usually attracted to this shop. And even if I couldn't tell immediately that you were my foretold visitor, what with the Prophet running stories on you and your friend Mr. Potter all the time, how could I not know by now."
Stupid Prophet.
A seer? Really?
"If you knew I was a witch, how come you never revealed yourself until now, after I've been in the papers and what happened last spring? After I've been coming here for five years?" I try to hide the scepticism from my voice, but after Trelawney being an arrogant fraud, despite everything I've ever read on the subject, I find it so hard to believe that anybody can predict the future.
"Well, you've caught me," she says winking. Winking? "I cook emotion-inducing ingredients into my baked goods, love, it's why I've done so well in the Muggle world. They think it's 'magic', ha ha," she tinkles. "Most good wizards would know instantly that their foods been tampered with, you see. I can't sell them in Diagon Alley."
Oh.
"Not that you aren't bright. But I suspect you've never had a spell-cast cupcake before my shop, let alone anything magically altered, being Muggle-born. It's not strictly speaking, legal. And since you didn't know about me being a witch, you wouldn't have assumed because you're a kind person. It was my husband's idea, I assure you. But I agreed because I wanted to bring happiness to the people who can't afford any better. Many of my regulars are on the shallow end of the financial stick." She looks down sadly at her bouquet.
"Oh, now you must think so ill of me, tricking everyday citizens into thinking I'm just a fabulous cook." She heaves a great sigh and smiles again.
I'm at a total loss. After all this time, you'd think I wouldn't be dim enough to realize that she wasn't ordinary, but I had no clue. And she has a husband? How could I never know that!
And more importantly, how can she know about Malfoy? How! ?
I have no idea what to say next so I try to make her feel better. "You're doing what you do for the greater good at least, it's not like you put love potion or anything dangerous into your cooking that would alter how you feel about specific things or people…"
"Oh, Hermione, you think of me too justly," she laughs. And then in what seems like an instant, she tosses me a cloth out of thin air, and produces a new cup of tea for me.
"So back to the point, you should confide in your cousin about the way you feel about him. And give her the whole story. I sense a strong, loving aura around this relative of yours." She narrows her eyes at Andrea, who is oblivious to this entire argument, and then focuses back to me again "I think she would understand."
I save my breath trying to ask her how she could possibly guess that I have conflicting feelings about Malfoy and that Andrea knows not about my sorcery, and get straight to the point.
"How can I do that? After lying and hiding it for so long? What if she reacts badly? Thinks I'm hiding more then I let on or I'm just a lunatic?"
"She won't. She's your family. She cares about you and can see the struggle you're having. Besides, what have you got to lose? If the outcome really bothers you, you can always get rid of the memory of having told her, but it's better in the end to get it off your chest, isn't it?"
I'm sick of erasing people's memories. After what Malfoy said to me…about being daft and foolish for modifying Mums memories too much, I just. I don't know.
It was so I wouldn't cause them more distress than they would have, but he made me feel unclean. He made me feel like a liar.
How can I just calmly tell her?
Oh Andrea, by the way, I'm a witch. I can do magic, I go to a special school for wizards, I essentially live a double life and I was held captive in the basement of the boy I apparently like last year when my best friends and I were defeating the darkest sorcerer of all time who almost killed us numerous times, all while being on the run from the Ministry of Magic, who runs the government. Just thought you should know.
"Just go, love. I'll make sure nobody else comes in." I flicker my gaze to her once again and with a discreet swish of her wrist towards the door, her flourish makes the "open" sign closed. "Why do you think I made your tea so hot? You're a smart girl, you just need a little push sometimes."
"But. Just a moment, how did you know about – "
"Mr. Malfoy?" I simply gape at her.
"This morning I had you on my radar; strange because I've rarely had the same person twice, yet the aura felt exactly the same. But again, you would be flustered and again you would and come here. I wasn't sure why at first, but then a flicker of a boy was in my vision. And-" she pauses.
"…And?"
"It was unmistakeably him; Draco. Tall, blond, aristocratic and grim?" To a T.
"Um, that about sums him up. But what does that mean exactly?" I hate this. This is like a fiction book plot. But god, I guess my whole life could be written into an autobiography and nobody would ever believe it to be the truth. Girl discovers she is a witch at age 11; befriends the only boy who survived a killing curse; missions at 17 to help kill darkest wizard of all time to save the wizard world; succeeds.
"Let's just say if all goes as planned, you will become very content very soon."
"What are you talking about, what did you see? I mean, of course you aren't going to tell me but-"
"Sweetie, talk to Andrea. Her words will be wise. Then make your decision. I can't predict the future for you; the future is not written, your future is up to you."
"But how can that be true if you see what happens? You know what the outcome is so-"
She puts a finger to my lip, smiles at me and then points to Andrea while tucking her wand into her apron. The she saunters to the kitchen, effectively ending our conversation.
This is so much information to take in in 5 minutes. There are so many questions whizzing through my mind and I know I can't ask them. But I know in the back of my mind she's right; if I know what the potential outcome of my future is, I will either try to change it because I don't find it plausible or attempt to make it true because I want it that way. Either way I'll mess it up.
But still. The fact that seers truly exist baffles me more than any boy could, honestly.
I slowly walk back towards the table, clutching my tea with hands shaking. This is so scary.
This is it.
If I want real advice and somebody else to talk to without worrying about concealment; this is my opportunity.
Okay, just relax. Focus; you'll be fine. She loves you and she will understand.
"Andrea?"
My voice comes out little more than a whisper, cracking at the last syllable.
Andrea whips her head around expectantly.
"Yes, love?"
"I –
"I'm ready to talk."
In one fast frenzy I shove the drunken, horny Pansy off of me.
"What are you doing!" I whisper furiously.
Her glazed expression falters for a moment before she immediately pushes me down against the pillows and straddles my waist. Before I can wiggle my way out from her surprisingly firm grasp she wiggles her hips back and forth across my crotch, only covered in boxers mind you. She rubs her bare breasts in my face and on my chest.
My breath catches in my throat, and despite the red alert signalling inside my head, my hormones protest it enough for my sobriety to linger and I reach up to cup her boobs, roughly tracing her nipples with my fingertips.
"Oh, Draco." is what she moans, lilting her head back before leaning down again, still grinding against the thin fabric and sucking on my neck.
And I should push her away, I know, ok, but it feels so good. In the back of my mind, my conscience is screaming to stop.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. But I love it. If I can fuck someone without truly falling in love with them, it's a hard habit to feel guilty about now.
And I'm getting hard. And she knows it because now she's practically riding me, fast and faster.
But no, she needs to stop. She needs to- oh my fucking god.
She wastes no pre-erection time in snaking her hand down my underwear and grabbing my cock, pumping it up and down with a perfect combination of vigour and gentleness.
It has been far too long.
"Do you like that?" she teases as she licks her way up to my ear from my jaw. My spine vibrates in a long shiver. Of course I fucking like it.
"Yes, but-" I need to tell her. I need to tell her about Granger.
"But, what? It's not enough is it? Just give me a moment," What? What is she-?
She jumps silently off my body and positions herself in between my legs, pulling down my briefs to expose the rest of my body; completely naked now.
A guttural noise escapes my throat as she licks my tip with her tongue, staring seductively into my eyes.
My toes curl and my hands become weak, all my thoughts scramble to the back as the blood flows to a place elsewhere.
But then, as she shoves my whole length down her throat, a flash of Granger, naked on her bed again, burns the back of my eyes and I realize that I can't get her the fuck out of either one of my heads.
And then as I guiltily gaze at Pansy to rid myself of another woman, I see her in a white dress, a ridiculous diamond ring on her finger and her annoying nasally voice ringing in my ears, 5 children and an office job at the Ministry.
And I can't do this.
"Pansy – Pans – stop."
"Oh, are you ready to fuck now then darling?"
Merlin, Yes.
NO.
NO.
Say it aloud, dammit!
"NO." Too loud.
Pansy looks up from my cock with spit dripping from her lips, but despite how hot she looks, despite how turned on I am, and despite how much I want her to just take me right now, I can't shake the thoughts of guilt and dread that form in the pit of my stomach.
So I need to be decent and let my Slytherin minx know how I truthfully feel.
"What do you mean, no?" She seems horrendously insulted.
"Look, just. Come here please."
She raises a perfectly groomed brow skeptically, but she complies and crawls beside me against the headboard.
"What is it? I can't please you or something anymore?" she asks moodily.
"No, no, trust me, that is not the problem," I begin and she chuckles, then loops her arm round my shoulder.
"Well why'd you make me stop then, were you going to explode early?" she titters and walks her fingers up my face to my nose and flicks it playfully.
"Pansy, I'm being serious here. Come on."
"What baby?"
Ugh. "Pansy, the thing is…."
"Yes?"
"The thing is that you are drunk…."
"I'm not that drunk," she hmmphs, punching me on the arm.
Ow.
"Pans, you're swaying." And she is.
"Okay maybe a bit more than I wanted to be, but-"
"No, just let me speak." I put a finger to her lips and she sucks on it. AHHH.
"Pansy, STOP. First and foremost, I'm not going to take advantage of you like this because I don't want to marry you, especially because the only reason you want to is because your parents approve and they just want to get to my family's money."
"W-what?" Oh god, no, please no tears. "Don't you love m-me?"
"You didn't deny what I said about your parents, Pansy."
"But don't you love me?"
I decide to ignore her, and continue on. "Second, there's something you should know about. Something that I did today. Something I'm not even sure I regret."
She stops dramatically weeping for a moment and glares at me.
"Was it another girl, or I swear I'll –" I grasp her tiny arm with my hands that she was about to swing at me and hold it.
"No…I didn't fuck another girl, but I was with one. One you nor I would ever expect to see or talk to again."
"You didn't see a ghost did you?" She asks with widened eyes. "Was it that ghastly girl Tracey Davis? How dare she touch you!"
"No, no….it was….I was…oh mother of merlin. This will be horrible."
"What? What ever happened sweetie, I'll help you through it, ok? We don't have to get married, that was just my mother and the chardonnay talking – we can just live together maybe, and hey if you want to get a job at the ministry then I can intern or something at the hospital and-"
"Pansy, no! It wasn't necessarily anything bad but, but you're going to hate me I swear after I tell you and-"
"And we can move into London someplace big, away from the regular people of course, and-"
"Pansy, I kissed Hermione Granger."
"It'll have a big bay window, lush carpets and –WHAT!"
"We had a group project together and...I fell asleep at her house and kissed her."
She stops, mouth agape for what feels like ages, until -
"ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS?"
She's gripping my shoulder so tight I swear the flesh is coming off, and her eyes would be red if she were a metamorphagus.
"Yes."
Suddenly I feel more naked than I already am. See this is what honesty and empathy get you, deception and distrust towards fellow man is so much better.
"GET OUT! GET OUT OF MY HOUSE."
"Pansy!"
"You – you bring that girls filth into here and – and don't tell me, and – and kiss me, then try and seduce me –"
"I did all those things? I was only let in here so you could seduce me, to try and marry me. And filth? Are you fucking kidding me? You told me a few hours ago you were over the prejudice!"
"Oh please! Who was the one who abused her mercilessly throughout the years? Who threw around Mudblood like it was an adjective! Or was that all because you secretly love her, and just had a juvenile way of showing it, don't make me puke. Just LEAVE."
She jumps off her bed and scrimmages around for my pants and jacket.
"Pansy, I have nowhere to go!"
"I DON'T CARE!" She bellows, throwing my clothes at me in a fit of rage. "You humiliated me. Kiss another girl, fucking Hermione Granger of all, and then come to see me? Why? Why couldn't you go somewhere else?"
The words struggle in my throat to surface. My pathetic thoughts. "I thought. I thought that if I came here maybe i'd feel the same way I did when…"
"When what?"
"I just thought that I was horny. But I came over here, and you were all over me and it…Granger doesn't even like me…..but all this wasn't the same."
"It….wasn't….the."
She slowly walks across the room to the wardrobe and opens it to retrieve her robe from this afternoon.
"You're a fucking loser, you know that?" she whispers as she covers up.
"Your whole family is a joke. Your mother is only dating that man for the same reasons my parents want me to date you. You think you can just go and kiss a stupid Gryffindor, unpure minx who happens to be really famous now, and that everyone is just going to turn the other way?"
What?
"How dare you? Does your miniscule brain have any capacity to feel or understand anything other than gain in relationships?" I spit out at her.
"Excuse me?"
"I kissed Granger because I had a dream about her, because I can't get her out of my godddamn head, and because she was nice to me, even after everything I've done. She was willing to forgive me enough to let me into her house, and not be a petty bitch."
"A petty bitch like me? You like that bitch don't you, Draco. Sounds like you both will live a great life in Muggle London with all the grimy city folk. Sounds like you'll really love her and her saintliness."
"I don't love her! All I did was kiss her once."
"AGGGGH!" she wails. "But you still did it! YOU. The fucking king of venomous threats and insults. You hated that vile bitch because of the company she keeps. Surely Weasley and Potter won't be happy about this?"
"I don't care anymore, Pansy. I don't care about being better than everyone else. Obviously my life is turned into shit, but I just want something to make me feel again. Love, hatred, anything.
"You have me! Don't you understand I want you back? Even after you're status is shit I still want you."
"But you don't get it! I want someone who loves me unconditionally, who doesn't feel like they're settling. Who cares so much wealth, like you do. I just don't fucking care anymore about everything we were told."
"I don't get it? Well you know what, neither do you! You know how the world works here, and you're rebelling for no goddamn reason other than to get out of your cycle of life."
"Exactly! That's it, you fucking tart, you understand? Je ne veux vivre comme ceci plus! I don't want to live like that!"
"Get out then! If you're not willing to commit to this life you were given, the one full of luxury, then fine! But I never want to see you again!"
"FINE!" I shove my legs into my crumpled pants, my chest and arms into my shirt and grab my blazer, running out of her room as quietly as I can.
This was a fucking disaster. I knew it was a mistake, why the fuck did I delude myself.
I like Granger.
I want her to like me.
And that scares the shit out of me.
"Draco, wait –"
I run down her staircase and grab my wand from the gargoyle at her front door, running outside and dissaparating.
Seconds later I appear at a place I never thought I'd go, ever. The Leaky Motherfucking Happy Fun Time Cauldron.