A/N: So a few of you quite nicely pointed out that this story seems to randomly be taking a new direction. I promise you – there is a reason for everything that happens and in the end (hopefully) you'll see how it all connects. Thank you all so much for reviewing. Did you know there are over a THOUSAND PEOPLE READING THIS? Shocking. I'm so proud.

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Thank you to: neojedigoddess, semantics, Kuro Yuki Valkyrie, JRRTFrk, tfobmv18, mangokake, Alexybath and Werewolf Fanatic89 for reviewing.

Chapter 25: Surprises and Disdain

Hermione:

Things had been inching along for me since the day I'd went to Draco's office and had a panic attack in a broom closet.

Ha ha. Broom closet. Get the fuck over it!

Luckily, none of the other visions had come true, and for that I was grateful. I didn't think my nerves were ready to handle another complete meltdown just yet. Besides, I had more than enough on my plate. Two jobs, Draco and his religious attendance to therapy and managing a clean apartment because I still didn't believe in elf labour.

But at least now I understood why people keep the little things around. I was barely managing to keep up, even if Draco was helpful most of the time. We had just begun to fall back into some stable pattern of things. I knew what to expect, I knew where things were supposed to go and we were comfortable. Almost like the old days, but not. You can't go back after a mental attack, but I was more than happy to just live with it.

That was all before Draco started to act suspicious.

At first I thought it was all a part of my imagination. I had been waiting for him after his appointment with his therapist (who he still refused to tell me about because it was confidential). When he came up to me, he had been acting very suspicious. Fidgety, almost. Absolutely nervous, even. I'd thought it had probably been a reaction to something they had discussed during therapy. That was, until, he started asking strange questions.

We had stopped over for coffee at a Starbucks on our way back home. Sitting at one of the window seats and gazing at the ever present crowd rushing by, I caught Draco staring at me from his reflection on the glass window.

"What?" I finally asked him, checking for foam on my face and finding none.

"Nothing," he answered a little too quickly for my liking. I raised an eyebrow and he grinned sheepishly before I made to turn back to my crowd watching. There is absolutely nothing like crowd watching in New York. You will literally see every kind of person you could ever imagine, and then some. "Actually," he said, disrupting my thoughts once again, "there is something." I turned back to him, waiting for him to continue, but nothing came.

"Well?" I prompted after a whole two minutes had passed. Yes, I had watched it tick on a clock that was mounted on the wall positioned right over his head. Don't judge. Coffee makes me hyper. "What is it?"

"Well... do you trust me?" I nodded. "No, I mean, really trust me." I nodded again, this time slowly and a little more suspiciously. What had he done? "Yeah, that's all I wanted to know." And then he sat there, sipping his coffee contentedly as if he hadn't just been acting strange as fuck.

"Why did you want to know?" I asked.

He shrugged. "No reason."

I thought, hey, the man's going through therapy, let him breathe! His last session would be next week and perhaps he was feeling strange and all. Having rationalized it in my mind, I let it go and thought no more of it. That is until Sunday rolled around.

I woke up at 10 A.M. which was our usual wake up time. Normally, on Sundays we made it a point to lounge around and spend some time together, since we rarely got to do such things during the week anymore because of work. Today, however, I woke up to a note on my bedside table.

Hermione,

Gone out for a run. Might not be home until late, John asked me to meet him for lunch.

Left you breakfast.

D.

It was unusual. Even before I had started working, Draco had made it a point never to work on Sundays. It had been a tradition he and his family had apparently followed for generations. Why would he meet John, a strictly business friend, on a Sunday?

Something was seriously up.

Even though my mind tried to rationalize it – maybe it was too important to wait? Maybe it's not a business lunch... he HAD said he was going for a run before... – It just didn't sit right. By the end of the day, I had worked myself into a frenzy. Dinner rolled around and still no Draco.

It just wasn't like him.

I was almost starting to worry and about to owl him when he rushed through the door, looking a bit ruffled and very out of breath. "I'm – pant – sorry! – pant. Traffic was – pant – so bad..." he shook his head. I almost laughed, almost, but my frenzy was still there at the back of my mind. Eventually he calmed down, slumping against the door. "John roped me into coming home and helping him fix the place up," he said, with a very sour expression on his face. "Said I owed him the favour after what I put him through today." This was followed by a classic Malfoy eye roll and a disgusted face.

This time I really did smile, coming over to sit next to him. He pulled me over into his lap and kissed my forehead. "What did you put him through today?" I asked.

It was obviously the wrong question to ask. It was as if his kind expression melted and I even felt him go a bit stiff. But, true to Malfoy form, he forced himself to relax and remain calm in a situation he obviously didn't want to be in. "Oh. Taking him to a horrible restaurant for lunch?"

He was lying, I could tell and he was clearly hiding something. But you had to hand it to him, he was smooth. If I hadn't been obsessing about his strange behaviour all day – I probably wouldn't have even noticed, he was that good. For him, the moment had passed. He got up off the floor, pulling me with him.

"What's for dinner?" he asked, kissing me on the cheek.

/

Monday passed with very little contact except for a very quiet dinner and Tuesday lapsed similarly. Wednesday, I had to work on a draft of some second rate book, so things were quiet between us again. It was as if there was a huge tense bubble between us, but I was the only one who noticed.

Maybe I was overanalyzing.

So on Thursday, completely determined to go find Draco on my lunch break and pop the bubble – I went to his office, which I'd been avoiding since I'd had my panic attack. When I reached there, the secretary just smiled and waved me along and I smiled nervously back in return.

Because I was so nervous, I didn't immediately barge in. Thank God for that, too, because I heard voices coming through the door. The secretary had assured me that he wasn't with anyone... so perhaps he was flooing someone? Or someone was flooing him! That would be it. Yes... yes, it had to be.

I opened the door and found him sitting at his desk with his head in his hands, muttering. "Draco...?"

He shoot straight out of his chair, surprised, shocked, scared out of his mind. "What the – can't you knock, woman?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Who were you talking to?" I looked around. The fire was empty (not even lit!) and there was no one sitting on the couch or any of the chairs. Walking over to the coat closet (yes, he had a closet in his office) I opened it and also found it empty. He looked at me as if I were an absolute lunatic while I checked under his desk and muttered every spell I knew to reveal hidden persons.

"What the hell are you doing, Hermione?" he asked, finally shaking me.

"Who were you talking to?" I demanded

"No one... you're going crazy!" he seemed affronted and a little desperate at being called out. I was going to find out what he was hiding once and for all. I knew I was acting like a crazy, jealous girlfriend, but how dare he call me out on it!

"I'm going crazy? For all I know you're sitting here talking to yourself!" I stood there with my arms folded over my chest, attempting to hold my own. I felt a bit foolish and probably looked a lot more foolish than I felt.

At that moment, his secretary decided to show up and announce that a client was here to see him and that it required his urgent attention.

Saved by the bell. Or rich investor – take your pick.

"I will see you at home!" I said dramatically, before storming my way out of his office like a Class A drama queen.

But the thing was, I barely did see him at home that day. He came home well past dinner and by that time I'd already crawled into bed. It was officially our first fight. So what if he had been acting a little suspiciously? It probably didn't mean anything... but on the other hand – if the fucker was cheating on me, I would cut something precious off of him before discarding him!

That night, and the next, we both slept with our backs to each other.

/

On Saturday I was obliged to meet Draco after his last appointment. I could be a bitch, but I still cared about the man. But that didn't mean I had to hurry up about it... So I met him there in my most unflattering best. Sweats, an oversized jacket and one of his winter hats. Can you blame me? New York Decembers are tough!

When he saw me, he cracked his first smile in two whole days and I couldn't help but smile back. "I didn't think you were coming," he finally said, after a good long silence had passed between us.

"I'm not that mean. Can you tell me why you've been acting so weird?" He shook his head no. "Please, Draco! I can't go on overanalyzing things!"

He gave me one of his pointed looks and I made the best pleading face I could. "You're not ready to hear it, love."

"I'm ready for anything you've got to throw at me. What is it?" I hid my hands inside his coat for warmth and he stared down at me.

"This isn't going to work anymore," he finally blurted out. "My therapist says I need to address my issues with commitment. And not just shit commitment, or just sort of committing, saying I'll commit...but actually doing it. So there. I said it."

It was as if he had sucked the life right out of me. Literally. I felt a little weak and if I hadn't been holding onto him, I'd have collapsed already. Bloody hell... so this was it. He wasn't cheating on me or sneaking around. Yet. He just didn't want me anymore. Go figure... When he stepped away from me, I could feel my world ending.

And then just when I was about to cry, he got down on his knee right in the middle of a very dirty street. He got down on his knee... Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a velvet box.

A VELVET FUCKING BOX!

I couldn't breathe. Or maybe I'd forgotten how to breathe?

"Will you marry me, Granger?" It was the ultimate commitment and I felt shameful for thinking any less of him. Nodding my head wildly, making him laugh, he put a ring on my finger. And then I really did cry.

And just like that, on a very dirty and busy street in Manhattan, I was engaged to the most eligible bachelor of the world. (Ignore the exaggeration – I'm in bliss).

Sweats, an old ratty hat, shoes that probably had a hole in them and two day old bed hair.

What the hell did this man see in me?

Draco:

Admittedly there had been better ways to propose and I honestly had tried to plan them, but nothing got past the woman. How was I supposed to know? I hadn't realized that I was so easy to read. Malfoys weren't supposed to be easy to read after all. I'd been raised to be stoic and all that crap.

Guess this was another thing Father had failed at.

I bet he was rolling over in his grave. His precious son, the heir to the Malfoy throne (which was nonexistent by the way), was publically marrying a muggleborn. If he had been alive right now, I probably would have been disowned. Then, of course, he would have been met with the stark realization that he would have had no sway over his own companies.

Reality was a mean bitch. The thought actually made me laugh before it made my heart hurt.

It really could not get any more public than this, however. The tabloids, who had admittedly been hounding me since they'd caught wind of the fact that I was finally working on a new book, realized that my girlfriend was no longer my girlfriend. She was my fiancée.

We had officially become a public sensation.

Hermione couldn't go anywhere without being photographed and she swore that she was going to leave me for it. I suppose she had gotten enough of the tabloid exposure after the war, but how was any of this my fucking fault? I can't help the fact I'm amazingly brilliant and people want to know everything about my life. She should have known that by now.

Not that I'd say it out loud to her face, mind you. I'd heard enough of "arrogant conceited bastard" these days to last me a life time.

I honestly couldn't understand what the big deal was though.

So what if we were being photographed at restaurants...on the street... practically anywhere and everywhere, by both muggle and wizarding press? It wasn't that bad being hounded. They usually knew to mind their space. Hermione, however, over worried about her hair, her clothes and just about everything else.

What was it with women and their appearance before a picture?

Apparently, being caught waving for a cab in a pair of sweats was not a pleasurable experience when you were plastered over a million magazines each week. I thought, hey, all press is good press! But women don't think like that about their own lives. Or at least she didn't, because she slapped me for it.

The stress of work and now planning a marriage (which she swore she had no idea how to do) was getting a bit to her head. I would say I regretted the decision if I hadn't found her panic and overworking amusing. But really, it was only just a little funny. I could really do without it all, though. Perhaps I could slip a calming draught into her coffee in the morning...

Ah well. I suppose this is the price of love.

Hermione:

"You've been busy," I heard, before I'd even settled down. The man didn't beat around the bush, did he!

I knew the expression on my face was one of guilt and I knew that that couldn't be helped. I had been so swamped with work, Draco, the press, and my pending marriage that I hadn't had any incentive to go see Tom. I'd been far too tired to put up with his snarky comments and teasing. It wasn't as if I had the time, right? Right?

"I know..." I slowly said, trying to assess his mood. "I'm sorry."

He seemed alright. But you really couldn't bank on that with someone like Tom Riddle. He was, of course, a regular psychopath, sociopath, murdering kook. One minute he could seem positively cheery and the next he could be angrier than a bear woken from its hibernation.

"It's not my future on line here," he said, shrugging nonchalantly. I rolled my eyes. Really, I could do without the dramatics.

"I've just had other priorities –"

"What could possibly be more important than your future, Hermione Granger?" he asked, as if I were stupid (which was not an uncommon occurrence around here).

"Well, I'm getting married, for one. And I have so much more work to do than is necessary. Can you imagine that I'm editing through two manuscripts on the side of my regular job?" I stopped at his expression. "What?"

He just raised an eyebrow. "What? What did I say?"

He shook his head and gestured for me to sit down in my usual seat before he continued rather stiffly. "Marriage or not, your future means more, don't you think? And with the blondie too!"

Well, what was his problem? I stared at him incredulously. "Did you forget my job that I mentioned? And this marriage is my future, Riddle. Who I marry and how much of my time it takes up is none of your goddamn business."

"Everything about you is my goddamn business!" he hissed.

Suddenly, I was a bit scared. Inching my chair away from him as far as I could, I just stared as blankly as I could chanting a prayer to any God that was listening. Yes, he scared me. He was Voldemort after all... What if he decided to hurt me? Everything seemed real in this world.

What if he killed me and my soul would forever be trapped in this world? With him? Now that would really suck.

My panic must have shown on my face because he rolled his eyes and dropped himself onto a desk. "I meant to say, we're not doing very well with this prophecy and failure just doesn't settle well with me."

But he was very stiff and formal with his answer. I wasn't sure why, but for some reason, Tom Riddle Jr. didn't like the idea of me getting married. Was it because it was with Draco or just the whole institution of marriage itself?

"Failure doesn't settle well with me, either," I offered, rather unhelpfully.

"So you're occupying yourself with matrimony?" he quipped, disdainfully.

"You make it sound like that's the only thing I do with my time. Did I forget to mention the work? I have two manuscripts to go over! And then there's that meeting I haven't even prepared for tomorrow –"

"Granger."

"- And seeing as it's a very important meeting, too. Everyone's depending on me to be prepared –"

"Granger."

"- and I'm just not. Have you ever done something like that? I mean, just winged something really, really important. And don't even get me started on the files on my desk –"

"Trust me," he said. "I'm definitely not going to get you started on anything."

"What?" I asked, confused.

"Has anyone ever told you that you talk an awful lot?" How rude of him! But my indignant expression couldn't help but be melted off by his too wide grin. Smacking him on the back of the head, I got up.

"Too bad we didn't get any work done today, champ," I said, attempting to be suave, but failing miserably. "I've got to get going. Draco's probably getting up now and I don't want him to be suspicious of my sleeping habits..."

It was a good thing I was focused on the wrinkles of my slacks, which were grey and absolutely fabulous (said the saleslady), or I would have noticed the completely murderous expression on his face. He did a pretty good job of hiding his irritation, as well as Tom Riddle could manage such things, when I finally looked up.

"Your life doesn't need to revolve around someone else, you know," he said, as I was just about to leave.

"You mean, no one except for you."

"Exactly," he said, grinning again.

Rolling my eyes and shaking my head at his arrogant self, I went home to my much sweeter, less snarky, but just as sexy boyfriend/fiancée.

But I couldn't help but wonder if Tom Riddle had a point. Was my life centred around a man? And if this was the case, was it necessarily a bad thing? I was definitely happier than I'd ever been in my entire life. I was mentally, emotionally and definitely physically fulfilled.

Morning sex was a good investment.

A/N: Unsigned Reviews

Alexybath: You're so welcome. : ) And I love Riddle too! I think after this story is done I shall write a Hermione/Riddle pairing. Just for fun. And your suggestion is duly noted. I hope you enjoyed.