Do you never wonder?
No, no, no, no;
You girls never know, oh, no, you girls will never know
No, you girls never know how you make a boy feel.
- No You Girls, Franz Ferdinand
"How could you all let her just walk away like that? Ronald Weasley, how dare you tell a guest to simply leave! In fact, every single one of you should feel ashamed. I heard the things you said to her, what kind of friends are you? Anger shouldn't get the best of you all the time. For Merlin's sake, do you realize that by pushing her away, you're just thrusting her into his arms?"
"We know, mum," I retort exasperated, leaning my head back onto the couch I now reside in.
Harry and Ron are sitting on the wooded floor against the couch, and I think collectively, we feel like idiots.
Ron wears the crown, but I'm at least a jester in the matter.
I can't process all the things that I said to her.
I was just so angry that she couldn't tell me! We tell each other everything!
Mum is berating us for such uncouth behaviour, but to be honest, at the time I really felt like she deserved it. I know it's not her fault that somebody took pictures of her and ugh, 'Draco', but she shouldn't be sneaking around, right?
God, we're arses.
"Well you'd all better think of something to do if you want her back. I tried not to intervene because it's not my business who she chooses to date, and I don't know him the way you do, but I have reservations about that boy, and if I see her get hurt at the hand of him? I'd probably feel half as horrible and guilty as all of you will. Now, use your capable heads and fix it!" Mum storms off into the kitchen, probably going to cook up a storm as her therapy.
"Should we go upstairs then?" Ron inquires, "To try and salvage whatever it is we have now with Hermione?"
When nobody says anything, "Hello?"
"I don't know. I'm just so angry at her right now," Harry says, expressively shoving his arms out. "I don't know how to feel. How to resolve this."
"Well unless you want Mum to hear all about our stupid teenaged drama, allons-y." I swish my hair, and stomp my way up the stairs to Ron's room.
"Shall we?" Harry asks Ron sardonically, taking a deep breath.
He nods, saying nothing. We walk in silence to the second floor, and into the light blue hues of Ron's walls. I sit on the bed with crossed legs, and Harry goes to sit next to me, grabbing my hand, while Ron rolls his eyes at the love taking over her bed and takes a seat on the bay windowsill.
"So?"
"So what?" I reply to Harry.
"What are we going to do about Hermione?"
"Do about her? You mean, how are we going to apologize. I thought you were the master of strategy. And seeing as Ron is the biggest offender here, why don't you have any plan of action, dear brother?"
"Me?" Ron asks hotly, "why am I the biggest offender? You're the one who told her to leave in the first place!"
"Yeah, because steam was practically coming out of your ears. You would've done way worse damage had we not let her go then. You should be thanking me."
He blushes red, knowing I'm right. Seriously, I know I can be such a bitch. But stupid Ron! If he was over Hermione we'd have a much easier time trying to convince her to second guess her choice of companion.
"I think what we need to figure out first is why we're angry at her, and so if we confront her we can actually tell her coherently, otherwise you know she's just going to hate us," Harry says.
"Well, we were pretty mean," I mumble, brushing a stray hair from my face.
"But you have to admit though," Ron adds, "Some of it was justified. I mean, she had plenty of opportunities to tell us about ferret boy, and she even lied to your face Ginny, when you went upstairs to talk with her yesterday. She was out with him the night before, and she felt guilty she didn't tell us about it. She probably wanted to tell you, and she didn't."
"Yeah, for a good reason. You." God, he's so idiotic sometimes.
"What d'ya mean, me?"
"Come on, are you going to act that daft, Ron?" I huff. "You worry about her a lot, and clearly Hermione knows that, but she told you numerous times she wasn't ready to get back together. And obviously from what she said today, she's been contemplating it for a while. She came to tell us today, didn't she? She didn't want it to be hidden because she actually cares about you. She just doesn't want to date you right now, and by perseverance, though normally a good approach, you're just alienating her further."
"I just want her to see that I love her, though! Is that really that bad? I mean, surely you can't think Malfoy is a more suitable companion than me."
"Well, no, of course not. But right now she does. And honestly, after what she said, isn't she a bit right about you not being that compatible?" I state gently.
"I – I, I dunno, maybe. But I still care for her, and I don't want her to date him."
"Neither do I, but clearly we all messed up somewhere on the communication front."
"How so?" Harry finally interjects, eyebrows piqued.
"We are dysfunctional without her stroppiness to set us straight, aren't we? We all get hot headed, and she does as well, but she's far more logical than us. She's like our own personal therapist. She just belongs with us in the group, to be there when our heart gets the best of us, and we took it for granted."
"But I didn't, I know without her we wouldn't have been able to do anything for the past 7 freaking years!" Harry says, raising his voice.
"Yes, but maybe nobody told her that? Reminded her often enough? She was right when she said Ron and she had nothing in common. And don't interrupt me," I point at Ron, who in turn crosses his arms. "We don't have anything in common with her either, do we? I know I don't, besides being in Gryffindor. You guys became her friend in the first place by having an odd run in that caused you being friends, that's it."
"But why didn't she confide this to us earlier? I mean, if she felt so alone, so unappreciated, why not tell me? Or Ron?"
"Because she didn't feel alone. She did all these amazing things with us, her 'amazing' friends. And she felt important and useful. She told me that her biggest fear is failure, because you're blokes and I'm the only girl she's close to, she felt like she could confide in me," I state proudly. "She probably feels like a failure now just by dating some guy we hate. When she shouldn't feel bad, we should for not giving her a chance. Or hearing her out."
"But, how can just that have made her feel so used or like she failed?"
"Think about it; You two use her for homework help all the time. I do too, sometimes. You relied on her last year to do all these complicated things that you couldn't do, that you didn't know. And I'm not saying that you both did nothing, it was a team effort, but from what she told me, it was really stressful for her to do so much when you were out in the wilderness. Yet she did it because she wanted to be the best friend she could be. To stand by your sides through the storm. But sometimes you weren't so great of friends, and lately I haven't been a saint either. And don't deny it, though you've been trying, whenever she and Ron got in a petty fight she was cast aside, Harry. You hung out with Ron, not her. And Ron, you walked out on her for agreeing to be with Harry til the end. Yet for girl advice or any other consultation you would've still asked her for her help, and she never held it against you."
"Okay, thank you for that wondrous blow to my ego, but why is this relevant to her dating Malfoy?"
"It has everything to do with it. She exploded today, she let feelings out she hadn't been able to in a while. And instead of hearing her side of it, we all ganged up on her for dating someone. It's not like she married him or, or suddenly proclaimed to be against all wizards or something that dramatic. The press just likes to jab at people when they have no juice left, I mean it was Skeeter, Harry you know very well how shitty it is to be a victim of that, we all do. Nowadays, the writing has always been something positive, and nobody could've seen the nastiness of that pair coming."
"I still don't see how her feeling some resentment towards me or Ron would make her date Malfoy?"
"Clearly, he was giving her what Ron didn't."
"Ginny, don't even start! I don't want to hear any of this bloody bullshit."
"No, you don't start." I retort firmly, giving him a look that says 'please'. "She said they have tons in common, she said that he understood her in a way we didn't. That's huge, it's a catastrophic even, for us. That's the way I would describe Harry, Ron, and I don't want to place the blame on you, but didn't she tell you all the time what she felt was missing from your relationship? Something you could do to change?"
"Well –" He can't lie. "Well, yeah. She wanted to talk about boring things like feelings. And whether or not the Ministry should pass Section C on the Bill of Wizard Rights. I mean, how was I supposed to relate to that? That's not me! She knows that."
"God, Ron, you try. On the train home, she said that it felt like if you had sex with her, then maybe to you the relationship would be justified, it would really feel real. But she's known you for ages, and it felt like an old friend she was lying in bed with, not a lover. That's why she wanted to talk about feelings. Why she wanted to know if you love her. If Malfoy was kind to her, lord knows he hasn't been any other time, it's a weird change of mind he creates in her mind. She said he opened up to her about whatever it is that makes him unbearable, and now that charm that he has always used on other people who didn't know any better has cast her under his spell."
He gulps.
"And by us pushing her away, as mum said, she's going to go to him. Because lately, we haven't been the best of friends, have we? I feel so awful I didn't owl her more in the summer. Fuck, Ron, why didn't you owl her?"
"Don't push everything on me! I regret it, okay? But Harry was just as livid as I was that she was kissing that pea brain. Maybe it is a little too late for me to reconcile everything, but I want to because Hermione makes me feel like a better person, she makes me feel like I'm worth something. I can't shake this infatuation, the thought that if I just had her back with me, everything would be alright. And I don't know if I'm ready to let that go."
"Well, you're going to have to figure out what to do soon, I don't want to lose her as a mate," Harry interjects. "You realize that with Quidditch season already upon us, she's going to be spending all her free time with him? Slytherin's had to forfeit this year, and that's why it's taken so long for us to set matches? We're all on the team, and she isn't."
"Fuck," Ron mumbles.
"You have to decide if it's in your best interest to just settle and let her do what she wants for now, Ron. I hate that git, but she doesn't want you at the moment Ron, I'm sorry. And she was always the most understanding person, besides you love, and always was there to listen. I tried to help, but I guess it wasn't enough. I'm pretty rotten at advice giving. You clearly understand what she's going through, don't you, Gin? It just doesn't change the fact though, that I'm still upset." Harry is controlling his speech pitch, I recognize it. This is really bothering him.
"Why are you so upset though, babe?" I ask softly.
"You first, I'll probably be the most unpleasant."
"Er, Ron?" I ask, avoiding the question. They may not really get it, what I have to say; they're boys after all.
"I think it's pretty clear why I'm upset with her," he retorts snarkily. "She's dating my mortal enemy when I still have feelings for her. Whatever those feelings are. Now, I'm curious Ginny, why are you so angry? Usually you're on her side."
"Well, it's Malfoy for one. Besides him being a hapless moron, he's hurt us a little too much in the past. But two, I wasn't even that angry she was dating him, rather, it was because she felt she couldn't tell me. She liked him for nearly two months, she even tried to cover it up by dating another guy, and she couldn't once let it out. She told me about Viktor, she told me about you even Ron. She told me everything, like I did to her. She's the goddamn reason Harry and I are together today, because she told me to relax a bit, take it slow, didn't she? I know she always feels the need to be in control, which is why it took so damn long for her to make a move when you didn't. If you don't share your inner worries eventually you'll explode.
And even though she admitted she realized she has inadequacy issues, Malfoy is the one helping her with it, not us, her supposed friends. She's amazing, that girl, and I don't want her to hide from me, or from any of us. I don't want her to make the wrong decisions due to us staying away; because Malfoy is really conniving. Who knows what he's thinking? What he's made her think already?"
A small tear rolls down my cheek at the thought. Harry kisses my forehead, and then clears his throat.
"Of course we don't want her to go away. The reason I'm so bothered is because it pains me that she doesn't seem to remember everything he's done. It's pretty effing difficult for me to just forgive and forget if she wants to see him often and stay friends with his enemies. How will that work at school? Is it really worth it to have us be courteous and guarded every time we talk with him? He doesn't trust anyone. He was the worst bully with that blade of a tongue he has, and he only did it because he was insecure, and I know it. He hated me because I wouldn't be his friend to 'elevate his status', he picked on you Ron because you were my best friend, and because you aren't rich like he is, to rub it in your face for no damn good reason. Sure, we were mean to him as well, but I wouldn't have been if he wasn't such an ass! He was a coward! He tried to kill Dumbledore! He ambushed us in the Room of Requirement for what? Petty revenge for his useless father? And then we saved his ass, twice, with no thanks in return. His family was horrible to Dobby, he wanted Buckbeak killed too, has Hermione forgotten that? That's her sore spot, creature rights, and she thinks it's okay that he's done the worst? What the hell merits him a free pass to be friendly with her?"
Harry is so riled up now, he's breathing like a raging bull.
I sigh, knowing I'm going to have to explain to him the intimate details of a girl's working mind.
"Maybe, "I start tentatively. "Maybe, just hear me out," I repeat, stroking his back, his weak spot. "Maybe he explained his actions to her. I mean, we know he didn't want to be a Death Eater. Gossip was all around the school about him that year, he looked gaunt and lifeless. I know it's hard for you to understand because you're so good, Harry, but did you ever stop to think that it wasn't so easy for him in school? He's manipulative and uses people because he's in Slytherin. Everyone hates an entire house on that principle, and funnily enough, generally the ones in that house deserve it. But how could he just tell Dumbledore he needed help? His target? If his family was on the line, what would you have done? Would you have been able to make that judgement call so quickly?"
"Are you seriously-" Harry begins, obviously offended, pushing my hand away. Ron looks stunned.
"No, listen to me, please. I'm not defending his actions, I'm explaining to you maybe what Hermione was thinking when she decided to date him. You have to realize that not everybody can be Sirius, Harry. Some people have a very hard time being brave, especially when it concerns their welfare, or people they love. Some people can't just walk away from their family or life when they aren't sure if it's the best decision for them. And anyways, people liked Sirius, nobody likes Malfoy, everyone only flocked to him because he was rich. Malfoy might have finally seen through the haze that fabricated his aristocratic, fake world. He actually loves his parents, you know, like normal people. Otherwise why would he have had such daddy issues? And you told me that his mother saved you by lying to Voldemort just to find him. She clearly cares about him. Bottom line is, even if he is still the prejudiced arse we know him to be, he's kissing Hermione in that picture." Ron gives a little grunt, and I know they both don't want to hear what' s next. "And he looks happy."
I grab the piece from my jeans pocket and uncrumple it, pointing to them on the street. I've been staring at it, attempting to decipher its meaning, trying to somehow absorb their true feelings from a news clip. I mean, 'Mione looks absolutely radiant in it, and he's actually got a lovely grin on his face, no trace of a smirk.
"It's odd – he really does. I don't think I've seen him that happy since he got me expelled from Quidditch." Harry grabs the paper and then thrusts it at Ron, who immediately rips it in disgust.
"That's not a look you give someone if you have mediocre care for them. Maybe he really wants to change. Who knows? I mean, his mother is apparently leaving dear old Lucius to rot in jail, probably the most sensible thing she's done in 20 years. The only way we can keep an eye on Hermione, and track him, is if we give him a chance to prove himself."
"Ginny, are you serious?" Ron asks, outraged. "How would we do that?"
"Invite him over. For dinner."
Harry chokes out a laugh.
"Him? Oh, I'm sure your dad would be so pleased. And no offense, but that all seems like a bunch of tripe. Malfoy, a changed man? If he wasn't truly loyal to the dark side or our side, he's only loyal to himself."
"Regardless, wouldn't you just love to see the look of defeat on his face when he apologizes to us individually, for everything he's done? To watch him simmer under the glares of all the Weasley's?"
"Not, really, no. I'd rather him not dirty the house up, thanks," Ron spits. "How can you possibly think this will solve anything? Don't you think that if he comes over, Hermione will just admire him more for being willing to do so?"
"Perhaps, but on the flipside, if she asks him to go and he refuses, what does that say about him? If he's truly putting on a façade, Hermione will see through it sooner than later. Usually she's a good judge of character. We can ask him all these questions that will make him squirm, can't we?"
"I don't know, Ginny. Inviting him over to my favourite family's house? I may want to punch him," Harry smiles.
"Well, then you can after dessert. Why punch though? He hasn't done anything truly heinous this year, hasn't he? Verbal interrogation may be enough."
"Like one semester of freedom excuses him creating a song about me so I couldn't goal keep properly. So Harry gets in trouble by Umbridge, and the DA found out and eradicated. That's the thing that still baffles me most, how she got amnesia. I mean, she knows how much he's acted up to humiliate us, and she just forgets it?"
"She probably doesn't, but if she likes him she's going to make excuses like every normal person does in a relationship."
"Well she's not as bright as I thought then."
"Oh come on, Ron, stop being such an arse. You know how crazy jealous she was when you went out with Lavender, her head isn't screwed on tight when she's in love." Ron's face falls, and Harry puts his hands up, shaking his head at me for saying the 'L' word.
"She's not in love. I refuse to believe it. And certainly, he can't be; If he hurts Hermione, then he'll be Undesirable No. 1."
"Yes, he will. But back to my point, when we invite him over it'll elevate us, you especially Ron, as being the bigger person first. We extend the hand of right before he can. She's going to remember that, I promise."
He sighs "Okay, okay, you've convinced me. How are we going to get her over here though? I know that look of hers, we made her cry. We made her cry and it's all my fault. Fuck, I'm such an idiot."
I frown, and stand up to walk over and give Ron a hug, whose eyes are threatening with glistening tears. He's very surprised because I rarely show him such affection, but he hugs me back round my middle as I'm standing, and I pat his head.
"We all were, it's not just you. Now come on, let's get on with it, if we raise the white flag now, maybe we can curb her anger and defiance."
"And what about Molly? Your mum? And your dad? He hates the Malfoy's," Harry asks, apparently now on board too.
"Well they'll just have to deal with it. Mum will convince Dad, she always can."
"I really hope you're right," Ron concedes. "But you know I'm going to have a hard time not calling him ferret boy? Or being generally displeasure-able."
"Yes, well, you need to figure out how you truly feel about Hermione before he comes over, if he comes over. If you want her friendship, you have to support her decisions. If you want her as your girlfriend, god just get over it and go out with all the girls who want you."
He flushes red, and finally emits a little grin. Thank god.
"But –"
"Look, brother, I say this as your loving sister and as a female; you're putting Hermione on a pedestal because it ended so abruptly with her, and you never got to stage 4 in your intimate relationship so the only mystery left behind her was if she was good in bed."
"Ginny, can you not," Harry grimaces. "Mental images."
"I'm being frank here, okay! Just because you're all sexually shy babies….anyways, Ron, you still have deep feelings about her because she's your best friend. And I know you want it to translate into true love but I doubt that's going to happen anytime soon, so in the meantime take the Ginny route and see different girls to calm yourself; then maybe Hermione will see how good of a catch you are, huh?"
"I dunno…" he says, processing the information. "Just let me wait until Malfoy gets here, and then we'll see."
"Fine," I say. I guess I'll take it.
I think he's deluding himself into thinking Hermione will actually take him back. In my opinion, she's too independent for him, Ron needs a mommy. Malfoy doesn't seem much better, but at least he has somewhat valid reasons to be completely demented. It's painfully clear to me that what Ron lacks is simply a girlfriend who can hold him through the night like Lavender did without being so flitty and annoying. The boy needs to get laid.
"Now, I'm going to inform mum of the new plan, eat something, calm down and then go to Hermione's alone."
They both stand up to protest but I place a palm out, and they know I mean business with my Molly Weasley glare.
"What she needs is a girl talk, alright? Too many people and she'll be overwhelmed. Now sit tight and I won't be long." Time to take matters into my own hands.
This damn better work or I'm going to sit on Hermione's doorstep until she forgives me.
And all the gay things I say make such a pretty melody,
I'm gonna say all those bad things about you that ain't true; Intimate things so everyone hates you.
This...is...my...Re-venge
I'm a little tease , watch what I do
Here's a little taste of how it's gonna be from now on.
- Revenge, Mindless Self Indulgence.
{}
"Narcissa, Draco, I wasn't informed you'd be coming today. To what do I owe this pleasure?" The look on Paisley Parkinson's face as my mother and I stand in the doorway, defiant and unscathed, is almost worth her telling the press about our secret affairs.
"Oh, and you've brought a guest." Her voice becomes two octaves higher as she notices Jean-Pierre behind us, who raises his hand in a wave.
This will be excruciatingly fun.
"Yes, your lovely husband was on the way out to a meeting, he said. He let us in through the gate." Thank Merlin for spaced-out daddies. I think he was far too enthralled with that wandering eye of how great mother looks to be conscious of who exactly he's dealing with. Narcissa Malfoy can be so very charming.
"This is my fiancée, Jean-Pierre Du Pont. Draco tells me you know of him?" Paisley's face drains of all colour, a rat caught in a trap. "We've just come to discuss a couple of things with you, Paisley darling. If you're open to company, of course."
Paisley better get ready for some subtle bitchfest, because the tone of voice my mother is using is not one that should be messed with.
"Nonsense, I haven't seen you in eons, my dear. Come on in, let's catch up. Come in, lovely to meet you, Jean-Pierre. Er, parlez-vous Anglais?"
She opens the door up, not before leaning in to give my mother a chaste kiss on the cheek. When she looks at me, I merely raise a brow and she shuffles round, struts into her sitting room in the middle of her estate, frantically adjusting her hair, her crème robes, feeling unprepared, inadequate. Mother, Jean and I look immaculate, because we planned it so.
I'm sporting my grey linen suit that I reserve only for dinner parties, while Jean is wearing something similar in taupe with a faint plaid pattern. Mother is looking fairly ravishing in a deep scarlet robe, with matching high heels; positively dressed to kill.
Paisley ushers us onto her uncomfortable fancy eggshell chaise lounges, in her equally pretentious marble floored, pristinely clean room.
"Yes, I do speak English, zough my accent iz quite strong. A pleasure to meet you, Madame Parkinson." He shakes her quivering hand, kissing it like a debonair, before sitting next to me, crossing a foot to his knee.
She flushes, "And you, Jean-Pierre. Please, call me Paisley."
"As you wish, Paisley," he replies in his thick drawl, wherein Paisley shifts uncomfortably, obviously charmed yet annoyed that my mother's new suitor isn't a scumbag she can complain about to the socialites.
"Wine? I have a few very good vintages from about 50 years ago, or so?"
"Yes, that would be lovely," Mother nods.
"Eez is vin rouge? I do not particularly 'ave a taste for la vin blanc, white wine I should zay. If it eez not too much trouble."
"I – I'll have our house elf, Rudy, check the cellar for some red," she says. "No trouble at all; Rudy."
A pop, and then the Parkinson elf is present, who bows low to his mistress. "Yes, Miss Paisley?"
"Fetch our finest wine from the cellar, please. Red, and quickly." He nods and snaps his finger to disappear.
"Now then, what have you been up to, Narcissa? Last I saw you, you were, well, a little distressed." She smiles tightly, unable to conceal her nervousness.
She sits herself next to mother, who scoots down just a teensy bit.
"If you don't mind Paisley, I think Draco had a question to ask you first."
"Oh, of course. What is it, my dear?" She turns to me, a contemptuous look on her face, no doubt recalling how she acted when I told her of my troubles a few mere days ago. But I did storm out the house and drank some of her premium liquor, so I guess I deserve the glare.
"I was simply wondering if Pansy would make an appearance today? I left your home quite rudely last I was here, and for that I sincerely apologize. I would just like to extend that to your daughter as well?"
"Pansy is preoccupied upstairs." She's struggling with what action she should take. "I suppose I can go fetch her, for a few moments, if it's that important to you," she says clearly dissatisfied with the decision.
"I assure you, it is." I give her a knowing look, and she inhales to steady herself as she stands up.
"Very well." She click clacks her way to the spiral staircase, while I smirk at mother, who grins back. Jean-Pierre purses his lips with his brows piqued, a little unsure of where this is going, but awaiting some eminent, satisfying embarrassment.
"Pansy! You have a visitor. Please come down."
"Just a moment, I'm a little busy," I hear Pansy's high pitch shriek from the top floor.
The lady of the hour returns, and retakes her seat. "She'll be down in a moment. What is taking Rudy so long?" How I love seeing this woman act under pressure.
As if on cue, Rudy rejoins the party, who has brought some beautiful crystal glasses. He pours everyone a drink. Plus one for Pansy.
"Thanks, Rudy," I say cheerily. The elf squeaks a thank you to me before exiting the tension filled room.
I hear footsteps in the hallway, and my smirk just grows wider.
I can hear her hissy fit huff before I can see her dark hair enter the room. "Yes, mother, who is it? I wasn't expecting anyone; you know I'm in the midst of getting ready for Blaise's dinner party tonight and I want to look- Draco!" She screeches, her heavily made up face wide with terror.
"Hi there, Pansy," I greet her, smiling wide, raising my glass to her.
"What are you doing here?" she asks quietly. Then she removes her gaze from me, and realizes the full magnitude of her company. "Mrs. Malfoy? And whose this?"
"This is Jean-Pierre Du Pont, her fiancée," I reply, waving my hand out at him. Her face ends up matching her mother's, and that little spasm of satisfaction returns.
"Don't be rude, Pansy. Sit. We have guests," Paisley instructs in a voice not to be disobeyed.
In another time, I would've found Pansy delicious looking; she's wearing a bathrobe again, a lacy slip peeking underneath while her hair is sleekly straight, and her jewelry delicately picked out. It's strange how a few days with the right person however, can change one's perspective. Now all I see is a high society girl hellbent on feeling adequate by dating the right person to get validation from people who don't even care about her, and ignoring her true feelings.
Poor Pansy, I think maybe I'll go a bit easy on her.
She decides to sit next to me, and tries to do so with tact and dignity.
"Now, Narcissa as I was saying –"
"Not to be impolite again, Paisley, but I'd like to get straight to the point," mother says, sipping her wine courteously.
"Yes, the point. What is that, exactly?" Paisley asks, naively begging for the attack.
"First off," I reply, "Sorry mother, for interrupting - I'd like to apologize to you, Pansy. For not being up front about why I came to see you when I came to visit here on Friday, and for being a drunken mess when I left."
"A drunken mess?" Paisley says, looking from Pansy to me. I took the liberty of rehashing that awful story with my mother, so she was prepared for what I was going to say aloud in this moment.
"Yes, I drank some of your alcohol, which I'll gladly repay, Mrs. Parkinson. But while I'd like to apologize for my behaviour, I think I am owed an apology myself."
"And why would you merit one?" Pansy asks haughtily, flicking her hair behind her.
"Because, Pansy dear. When you confessed your mother's plan to get me to marry you for my money, and I told you it was a bad idea, plus that I kissed Hermione Granger, you sort of, I don't know, got a little upset. And then, you told your mother about it."
"I – I" Pansy looks shell-shocked.
"You were wasted, like me. We made bad decisions. It happens, Pansy. Do you even remember all the things you said? I had a pretty horrible hangover."
"I did too, so?"
"So why did you feel the need to ruin my relationship with Hermione because of one mistake?"
She says nothing, searching for words. For lies.
"No, no, don't get me wrong, it was conniving, it was genius to be honest, if you were seeking vengeance. I'm just a little curious, did you honestly think that we wouldn't take any action?" I ask, addressing both of them.
"You hurt my Pansy, she was distraught that you were pursuing the Granger girl and then had the gall to come here and try and mess her up emotionally. What choice did I have? You would've done the same," Paisley says, and Pansy juts her chin up as if it's justified.
"Would have done the same?" Mother asks, laughing. "Are you joking? You think we'd stoop to the level as you would to bring me down a peg because my son doesn't love your daughter? You told the Prophet about Jean and I, and gave tips about Draco and a girl he likes out of spite, when he told you those things in honesty, sadness and confidence. People followed us, stalked us and took pictures for what? So thousands of people in Britain and France could speculate awful things about us?"
"I was angry," Pansy says, shrugging, looking at the floor.
"Yes, but you don't regret it though, do you?" I ask, shaking my head. She says nothing, refusing to meet my gaze. "Look, I'm sorry about coming over, but I truly needed a place to stay, I was upset about Jean –Pierre, I had no time to process a divorce and then I was locked out. I was confused about my feelings about Hermione, I never fucking intended on hurting you if I have. You told me to leave!"
"Hermione?" Pansy asks weakly, then changes her face to one of steel. "I told you to leave because my ego was hurt, and because in case you forgot, you didn't push me away in time. Apology not accepted, Draco."
"Well, regardless if either of you don't regret or take apologies, I should be thanking you both, really." Paisley looks up at mother, confused. To be honest, I am too. I turn to look at her. "That little stunt ruined my relationship with Jean's mother, our faces were all over the French papers, merci beaucoup. Frankly, she was holding us back. She wanted us to be in a secret relationship because of my past discretion's and Draco's. She needed the 'right time' to come out to the French public. I'm not ashamed of my past anymore, I accept it as it is; if I can't let go and change, I can't move on. I admit I'd have liked us to all get along, but as Draco and I are finally realizing, it doesn't matter what people think of you so long as you can look at yourself at the end of the day and realize you're making the right decision. "
"And you're saying the Malfoy's are good decision makers," Paisley scoffs.
"Maybe not in the past," Mother says coyly, sipping her wine, "But we are now. I love Jean-Pierre, and contrary to what you probably think, I'm not after the money, the titles. I never really was. I loved Lucius in a time gone by too. Of course him being a Malfoy was something to be desired, but he courted me first, and everything was great until he changed. He got involved with people and affairs he shouldn't have, but he did what was best, he thought, for the family. For our safety. And how can you not be loyal to a man like that? Like me at the time, we cared too much about what people like you think, Paisley. Too much about what would happen if we didn't go along with every little change the Ministry or higher ups deemed appropriate. Jean was in a similar situation with his marriage, he had to have it approved. We understand each other, which I think is why we get along so well."
She looks at him affectionately, and he holds her hand, while the Parkinson's continue to be baffled by this onslaught of information, clearly ashamed.
"And now, Draco is different too. His mindset is completely altered, something you would do well to heed, Pansy. Because I could tell just from seeing him talk about that girl, that he cares about her. Draco has never seemed to honestly care about anyone other than himself, and perhaps me," she says, shooting me an apologetic look. She's right though, I can't hate her for being truthful.
I dart a look at Pansy who is crestfallen, and I do feel a twinge of guilt for pretty much using her. In fact, a lot of this isn't her fault at all, is it?
"And finally, we're realizing that you should judge a person on who they are, what they show you, not based on what you are; Jean taught me that best."
Jean smiles at her, and I drain my glass, completely loving how brazen my mother is being right now, instead of her usual approach; the quiet, delicate housewife of Lucius Malfoy.
"So if you feel like going to Rita Skeeter again, I suggest you use whatever I told you instead of speculating lies. Because next time, we're not going to be so nice. We will go to whomever you tell and expose you as frauds and liars, now how would that look?" She shoots, directly in the eyes.
Narcissa Malfoy, a new woman extraordinaire, stands up from her seat, her eyebrow raised in victory, and grabbing onto her soon to be husband, dragging him to the door. Paisley Parkinson sits, a woman scorned and stunned by finally receiving the gossiping backlash she deserves, clutching a glass with a loathing look.
"Draco?" Mother asks me, beckoning.
"Just a second," I reply, raising a finger. "Pansy, would you join me over by the window for a moment?"
"Why?" she croaks, "So you can humiliate me further by insinuating I'm an idiot in high society?"
"Just, come here, please?" I stand up, and pull her off the couch, dragging her by the arm to the large glass windows facing the gardens.
"Yes? What would you like to discuss? Make it snappy," she commands, yanking herself from my grip, crossing her arms and looking at the ground.
"Pansy, I just want to say I'm sorry again." She looks up at me, into my eyes, and rolls them to the back of her skull.
"For what? For not loving me? So what, none of the boys ever do. Just because you're all 'reformed' doesn't mean you'll lead by example. You're the exception to the rule, you've gone soft." I chuckle.
"I know," I reply gently, grabbing her arm, but she pushes me away. "But I want to apologize for acting like I did for a long time. All those useless years of adolescence A part of me thought that's what love was, what we were; being with a girl you talk to and kiss, especially because your parents approve of it. You have to know that I always valued you over everyone else in that Slytherin shithole, even more than Blaise." She looks up at me again, and keeps them there when she sees the sincerity. I grab her hand. "I know that's stupid now, but for what it's worth, I'm glad you were there for me, even though I didn't open up to you as much as I could have. I'm just done with this whole society bullshit, I'm tired of being fake. But I'd still like to be friends, acquaintances, whatever. I'll show up at a dinner party or two. Maybe we can really get to know each other, help out. I'm not the only victim of wartime bullshit, after all. I can forgive you for getting angry at me, it was a valid thing to be mad at –"
"Draco –" she tries to interrupt, but stops, unsure of what to say.
"Look, I know you hate Hermione, and you can hate me too. Just remember not to sell yourself short. You're Pansy fucking Parkinson, nobody tells you what to do, right? That's why I liked you in the first place, you were just as rotten as me," I reply and I smirk at her. "If you ever want decide you do want to see me, just owl me. If you don't, I understand. Enjoy your date with Blaise. And really, I mean it. Everything I just said."
I take her hand upwards and kiss it. When I drop it to the ground, she turns her bracelet round her wrist, a little tense. "Thanks, Draco," she says finally, a hint of a smile on her face. "I'll give it some thought."
I nod to her, and spin around. Who would've thought I grew a conscience.
"Bye, Paisley," I wave, not bothering to look back as I walk past that silly bitch.
"That was a very noble thing you did Draco, I'm very proud of you," My mother says as I reach her at the front door.
My mother is proud of me.
She's proud.
"I'm a little proud of myself to be honest," I reply, as we thrust ourselves into the country air.
Jean laughs, causing me to join in, and then my mother can't help but giggle; it's infectious after all.
We walk down the lane and out of the Parkinson estate, myself feeling a little less like an asshole, very impressed by how my mother handles her affairs, and still praying to Merlin that Hermione isn't going to kick my ass for telling Paisley about this in the first place.
For one last day, life is still good.
I'm soaking in my bathtub when I hear the doorbell ring, very annoyed at the timing of whoever decided 2 pm was a decent time to come knocking.
I've already cried all my tears on the phone with Andrea, who was a bit too busy to offer me some solid advice. ("Oh sweetie, I'm so sorry I can't come see you. If I skipped this meeting in 15, it's about how we're interviewing Kate Middleton for Christ's sake, my ass would be fired to the next continent. And of course I have to stay late to finish the rest of this other damned article.")
My Mum, who had left me numerous e-mails I neglected, managed to calm me down enough to make me rationalize the thoughts bubbling in my mind. I'm now drained, and completely exhausted. I ended up explaining to her what's happened so far, minus the intimate details obviously, and she told me my friend would come around, insisted in fact. But I'm not so certain it'll be so easy.
I`ve decided that what I said to Harry, Ron and Ginny was not unreasonable, and that they were complete, well, arses. I know I deserved some of the backlash I got, I know I technically went behind their backs but they humiliated me in a way that I never have been before. Made me feel as if I committed an actual crime, not a social one. They pushed me from their home, because it's Harry's now too, right? The one place besides here where I've always been welcome.
And now I feel immense guilt, and anger all rolled into one. Ironically, all I want right now is someone to give me a hug. Maybe a certain blonde boy, but I don't know how he's going to feel. I mean, likely he'll blame himself for telling Mrs. Parkinson, but it isn't really his fault.
I wish he was here.
I need him to explain himself to me further, I know he's troubled, but Harry's antagonism rekindled in me the reminder that he has messed up horrifically in the past. I know I won`t be able to forgive him for certain things, like Buckbeak. But I can learn to let it go if he opens up to me more, and feels remorse, and let me see the best in him.
Ugh, I just wish they`d give him a chance. I did, it's not that difficult.
Whatever.
I push those thoughts to the recesses of my mind, and get out of the tub, hoping that this isn't a salesman or a girl scout selling cookies.
Maybe, I think, maybe Mum or Dad have come home early. Perhaps Andrea on a lunch break. Yes, I delude my sad self while donning a robe and rushing downstairs, appreciating the fact my hair was up so I don't look like a washed out rat.
The last person I expect to see when I swing the door open appears, completely catching me off guard; Ginny.
"Hi," she waves timidly, then holds her hands together in front of her, shamefaced. Now she's apologetic? Now she wants to talk?
Seriously?
"What do you want, Ginny?" I ask, sighing. I'm really not in the mood.
"Look, Hermione, I know you're mad and I don't expect forgiveness, but please; hear me out."
"Why should I? You didn't. I thought I 'should just leave' a few hours ago," I reply bitchily.
"I know. I'm really sorry, we're all so sorry," she says, looking at the porch floor. "We overreacted."
She seems sincere in her apology, but, I can't just immediately forget what was said to me. The words that stung me.
"And how do I know they're sorry too? Why aren't they here too?"
"I'll explain, okay. But we're sorry because we spent a good half hour discussing how we were going to make it up to you. Our behaviour towards you. It was atrocious. And I feel horrible."
They talked about me for a half hour? I feel my heart relenting a bit, hating how weak I am towards compassionate people.
"It was," I reply, stone-faced, waiting for what she has to further tell me, even though I just want to wrap my arms around her and say all is forgiven, even though I'm hurt.
"It was just such a shock, you know? And Ron was so upset, Harry and I didn't know what to do. But I wasn't mad at you like Harry was because you were seeing Malfoy, and I wish I had just told you that up front."
Huh? "Then why were you mad?"
"Because you didn't tell me how conflicted you were earlier. I would've tried to help you sort it out. Maybe, this whole newspaper thing wouldn't have happened, and I could've smoothed the barrier between my brother and boyfriend if you had told me first even if it had."
"Yes, but you wouldn't have wanted me to be with him, and I do. I like him a lot. Even if you'd be willing to help, it's not that easy."
"I know it's not, but you can try me, can't you? Girlfriends are supposed to be tight, we're supposed to fight for each other. I trust you, Hermione, don't you trust I can keep a secret too? No matter how unpleasant? I'm your friend."
There's wind blowing masses of ginger hair into her face, but her expression remains unmoved; it's hurt I can see in her eyes.
"I know, Ginny. I just didn't want to tell you because I didn't want to lose all that. I know it's stupid, it would and might've had an opposite effect. But I do trust you, I do." I repeat, feeling guilty, extending a hand out, which she takes, then smiles. Her fingers are freezing. "God, come inside, I didn't realize how cold it was out here, you're just wearing a sweater."
She thanks me gratefully, and steps into my warm home, exhaling in relief.
"Here, want to come on upstairs? I just need to put on some pajamas or something."
"Sure," she agrees, following me like yesterday up to my room. "By the way, it was my idea to come here alone. I knew Harry, and definitely Ron, wouldn't be able to handle the visit. I needed to explain this myself."
"Explain what?" I ask, flinging open my wardrobe and grabbing a silver silk camisole and matching bottoms. I figure I'm just going to have to stay in all day do tons of research and work tonight, I have no idea what tomorrow will bring with Draco. Right now though, I have other concerns. "And how's he doing, anyways? Ron?"
Ginny plops herself on my bed and sighs. "I tried to explain to Ron that he should do what I did, advised by you. See other girls, try to get over you for a bit, and maybe realize he's placing you on a perch, and becoming a possessive maniac in the process."
"Did you really say that? I mean,that's a pretty accurate description, just - God, he must've been livid." I can't believe she has those kinds of guts, but then, she's always never been afraid of her brothers. Most other people really.
"Not really, not as much as I expected. Harry and I told him we need to think of your friendship first, and him plotting against your boyfriend isn't going to help. I think perhaps we finally got through to him."
I blush as I pull on my top, completing the change, and go to sit next to her. "Well, he's not my boyfriend, but thanks for helping Ron. I've been really worried about him."
"Not your boyfriend? Hermione, who kisses a man like that and isn't exclusive?" she asks, and I realize when I see her impish grin she's asking me coquettishly, not meanly. Stupid moving photographs.
"We've been on two dates, technically, I suppose. Both in the same day oddly enough."
"Hermione," she says in a tone of surprise, impressed.
"As I already said," I begin embarrassed, "he just affects me. It's so weird. Like he gets me, or something. And it's not like you don't, nor Ron, nor Harry, but in a different way, you know? I don't know how to explain it."
"No, I know precisely what you meant at the burrow, it's like how it is with Harry and I. Which is why it alarmed me so much."
I grin at her matching one and roll my eyes, sitting down to lie back on my pillows. "I know he's not a saint, or that I should think his change of heart makes him the best boy ever given his shady past, but I can't help but like him. He apologized to me, he opened up his heart to me, I know that's lame. He seems sincere."
"That's what I came here to explain, 'Mione," she begins tenderly, and I prop my head up so I can face her properly, while she moves a bit closer to me.
"Besides an apology I thought, well we agreed, that maybe we should give Malfoy a chance."A chance? My curiosity is seriously elevated and I sit up, as if somehow getting closer will make the prospect better. "I, at least, noticed his change in behaviour this year, besides being a brooding Slytherin, he hasn't been mean really to anyone besides Ron, who actually hit you first – so it doesn't really count. But anyways, Harry still has reservations about him, as do I, and we thought that by inviting him over, for dinner, that we can talk to him, maybe hear his side of the story? Maybe squeeze in an apology or two," she chuckles, giving me the just-a-pinch hand signal.
Dinner? At the Weasley's.
"Why your place?" I ask. Her expression doesn't falter.
"Because, we were hoping as your dearest apologetic friends, that we could make being together easier for all of us, because if you decide you want to pursue him back at school, we want to see you too. If he can come join us during dinner, or maybe on weekends and we don't want to commit murder, that would be ideal, dont'cha think?"
"Yes, very. But what will your Mum say? Or you dad?" I grimace.
"I already ran it by Mum, who was furious at us by the way, rightly deserved. But she agreed, Dad'll come round. He can always threaten Malfoy with a foreign Muggle object on a stick."
"You know," I begin laughing, "I'm to blame too. I should've just told you I thought Draco was attractive, and you could've helped me keep it at bay. Or immediately owled harry and let him stew in that information when we went out. But who knew he'd tell me first? Who'd have thought he liked me? Or come to Muggle London for Merlin's sake. I never thought this twisted pairing would come to fruition."
"Shocker, really. Not because of your merits, I already told you, you were a great catch. But because of his past prejudices, yes? Well I look forward to hearing about his – uh, warped feelings," she says with a sour look. "So you agree to it then? We're doing it ASAP; tomorrow?"
Tomorrow?
"I suppose I can run it by him, though I don't expect he'll love the idea. Or at all."
"No, I wouldn't either. A room full of people you've insulted offering you food and waiting for you to talk is quite intimidating."
"Well, he does need to apologize, I told him he'd have to eventually. I can forgive him for hurting me, but I'm not excusing his behaviour towards you guys. And I can apologize too to Ron and –"
"God, no, Hermione. We all probably would've done the same thing as you, hide our relationship til we'd explode; though we can't admit it. I guess we're not as open as we thought are we?" She says thoughtfully. "I mean, Malfoy deserves the heat, but not all Slytherin's should. Fred and George were bad enough about me dating Michael, and he's in Ravenclaw. I can't imagine what it's going to be like when everyone else finds out. Sorry, I know you don't want to hear that."
"No, no I don't but it's the truth," I sigh.
"If all goes well we'll work it out. Harry just has a vendetta, once he gets over it, he'll just have to join the dark side with the snooty socialites like you have."
"Ouch," I say, laughing. "Thank you, though. For being human."
I grab her hand again and squeeze it. "Well, someone has to be. And besides, I get to see Malfoy squirm. It's funny, people say girls are more emotional, but I never let those insults affect me the way Ron and Harry did. Same with you. It should be fun."
"Ha. Yes, fun. If Draco agrees, and he'd better, I'll be the one wiping his ego off the floor and his weepy eyes with a monogrammed hanky."
Ginny purses her lips, trying to quell her merriment, before letting a giggle out. I join in, unable to help it, so happy to have someone partially on my side. The drained feeling I felt before has filled up slightly with optimism.
Once the hilarity ends, Ginny takes a deep breath and clears her throat. "It's going to be fine, Hermione. At least, I hope it so. I can't make any promises, but you've never misjudged horribly before."
"Yes, that's what I'm afraid of."
She frowns, extending her bottom lip up into a the sad puppy dog, then gives me a hug. "The good thing about having me as a friend is I'm particularly good at hexing."
"Lucky me," I smile, shaking my head. "Oh, I forgot my manners; Would you like some tea? Something to drink? I'm not going anywhere tonight, just holing myself up to study."
"I'm glad to see there's been no immediate changes, any slacking off or anti-Gryffindor rebellion."
"Oh, shut up."
"If you're seeing Mr. Moneybags with the textbook bad boy mystique slash daddy issues, then I'm entitled to some jabs, alright?" She raises a brow and sticks out her tongue.
"Alright, but only a few." Gotta love her honesty, I must say.
"I'm going to have to take a rain check on the beverages, however. I told the troops back home I'd report as soon as I got my answer, they're very impatient. And if you're studying, don't need to ruin that ritual. Just show up tomorrow by 6? If he doesn't come with, no matter, it's just a bit of extra food Ron will eat."
"Ha ha, okay. If you insist. You know, Gin, we need to hang out more." I really missed this bonding.
"I know. I feel horrible about summer, I was just so caught up with everything being so normal, plus there's Harry and –"
"It was the Summer of Love, don't even fuss over it. Apologizing would make it all seem like a regret. I would have been the same had Ron and I not fallen apart. If this falls through, I'm coming over with some ice cream like all stereotypical girls and we're going to have a session of dissing the Malfoy heir."
"Oh, I'd be delighted," she replies enthusiastically standing up.
"Here, I'll walk you out."
"Do you think Malfoy's going to be alright? I mean with the whole paper thing?"
"I dunno. It's kind of a tossup, really. He told Pansy and her mother about his mother getting a divorce, so I assume that's why the press knew."
"He told Pansy?" she questions me with a knowing look. "When he just found out, or? When did he know? And why would Madam Snooty Britches tell the Prophet?"
I try to remain composed as we reach the door. "He knew when he got home for break. He – er, walked in on his mother and fiancée having sex." Ginny's eyes shoot to her hairline. "He got locked out of the manor when he returned home from here the first time. He kissed me when he was dreaming, actually, I tried to wake him up and he just – anyways." She becomes more attentive at this development. Humans are naturally nosy, they loving dishing the dirt.
"It's a long story, really. He was too embarrassed to come back here, obviously confused about his feelings and went there. He told me Pansy tried to get back together with him while she was intoxicated," I can't say get engaged, I do have respect for people's privacy. "And he said no, because – because he liked me. Or at least, didn't love her," I say.
"Oh my god, really?" Ginny breathes, jaw wide. "Did she freak out? Oh, I bet that pulled the smirk from her stupid face. You know what, screw Ron, I want to hear this. Come on, please?" She asks, grabbing my arm and shaking it.
I hesitate, feeling if I should for the sake of Draco, remain silent about his affairs. But this is Ginny, and she won't tell anyone if I ask for discretion.
I nod, and she squeals, while I lead her to the kitchen island for some tea. I spend a good twenty minutes explaining what happened when Draco came over; his charm, his anger, what he told me about the Parkinson's, his confession speech, his Muggle clothing, and Bordeaux. I leave out our listening date because it feels private. I do indulge her on meeting Narcissa, tell her about Andrea giving me advice, and about Lenora too, just because. By the end of our - my endless rambling, Ginny looks pleased.
"God, that's all so crazy. Romantic, even. Who'da thought? Malfoy goes all out for a dunce. I am impressed," she says hitting the table lightly with her hands. "I'm glad I am now up to date with the Hectic Life of Hermione Granger. The Boring Repeat of Sixth Year will have to be discussed tomorrow, however."
"Wouldn't miss it," I reply.
"And I know he's going to come because you did nothing. He's going to show up here grovelling for forgiveness and hopefully telling a tale about how his mother wasn't bothered by being mentioned in a stupid article by Rita Skeeter."
"I hope you're right."
"Just like you are with school, I usually am," she grins. "Now, it really is time for me to go, they're probably biting their fingernails in anticipation."
"Okay, well see you tomorrow?" I grab her empty cup and place it in the sink with mine. Then I return to the doorway.
"Yes, no matter what state you're in, my darling."
"You're amazing, you know?"
She shakes her head as she steps outside into the frigid air. "No, merely I have a heart, and apologies in my arsenal. Unlike the boys, I do know when to realize I've been a prick. Bye, 'Mione," she waves. "Thanks for tea and forgiveness!" she yells as she disappears into space.
Well, tomorrow will be a gamble, and definitely excruciating for me to attempt to get Draco to his mortal enemy's place of residency.
But with friends like that, you can't help but smile and hope for the best.