So... I know it's been forever, but real life has done everything she could to stop me from writing lately. I apologize and I hope you haven't forgotten this story yet. It's a short chapter, but that was the only logical place to end it, so I really am going to do everything in my power to update sooner this time. You might want to reread the end of chapter 17 for this one.
Thank you, wisecrackerme, for being a wonderful beta!
Hermione's heart was pounding in her throat as tears threatened to escape her eyes. She'd been wandering around the castle for what felt like hours, but Draco was nowhere to be seen. She was walking up the stairs, resolved to check their rooms once again but with little hope of finding him there, when she bumped into Pansy.
Their gazes met, and it was immediately obvious that both of them had been crying. Hermione had never before realized just how alike the two of them were; not because they had many similarities, but because their differences were of no consequence, not at that exact moment. Gryffindor or Slytherin, Muggleborn or pure-blood… What did it matter, compared to the enormity of them both being human beings with feelings and hopes and dreams and fears, hurt by cruel words from Ronald Weasley. In the present clarity of her thoughts, Hermione knew that the war between them had, in the end, only served to bring them closer. None of them could remain unchanged after what they had been through.
She wasn't sure if there was something reassuring in that thought, or if she detested the very idea.
"Don't let Ron get you down," she said. "He doesn't actually mean those things he says in anger. Trust me, I have a lot of experience with it."
Pansy shrugged, trying and failing to look uncaring. "He said what everyone thinks. Everybody except a handful of Slytherins hates me."
Hermione stepped forward, grasping Pansy's hand and squeezing it.
"Not everyone," she said. "At least not me, not anymore."
Pansy's eyes glistened, and she allowed the touch for a couple of seconds before removing her hand from the other's grasp. "You're a good person, Hermione Granger. Every time I think I've figured you out, I end up underestimating you."
Hermione smiled tremulously. "Right back at you, Parkinson."
"You seem quite troubled yourself, Granger," Pansy said. "I thought you and Draco would have kissed and made up by now."
"I'm afraid it won't be so easy," Hermione admitted. "I said something I really shouldn't have, and now I feel like all the progress we've been making has gone to naught."
"Don't be too sure," Pansy said, unusually kind. "Everyone who knows him can see you've been good for him. Maybe try to look for him in the Astronomy tower. He likes to go there to sulk and drown in self-hatred."
"Thank you," said Hermione, before hurrying off.
Climbing up what seemed to be an endless amount of stairs, Hermione finally arrived at the Astronomy Tower and was relieved to see that Pansy had been right; her husband was standing at the open window, staring up at the night sky.
She wanted to say something to make her presence known, but was too winded to speak. Those stairs were a horrible climb.
"This is the last place I would have thought to find you," she said at last, advancing towards him with caution.
He didn't even turn around, kept looking outside.
"Maybe I didn't want to be found."
"Draco, we need to talk. I'm s—"
She stopped speaking when he turned around and handed her a letter. "You should probably read this," he said, his voice devoid of any emotion.
With some effort, Hermione forced her brain to focus and process what was written on the paper. She was horrified at the thinly veiled prejudice permeating the innocuous looking words, at how, even in a private letter to her own son, Narcissa Malfoy seemed incapable of communicating honestly and openly, at the obvious disdain for everyone that was different.
The last paragraph shocked her, shock that turned to anger when she noticed the date of the letter.
"I'm assuming you have a good reason for not informing me of this before today?" she asked icily.
The look of shame on his face was fleeting, but Hermione knew him well enough to recognize it. The cogs of her mind were whirring at a dizzying speed, connecting the dots to understand the story that Draco was obviously unwilling to share.
"You were worried I'd want to take your mother up on her offer, and so you figured it would be better if I didn't know about it at all."
He didn't respond, which was an answer in itself.
"How could you do that? I trusted you!"
"I'm showing it to you now!" Draco at last reacted.
"Yes, I was getting to that," Hermione said, angrily wiping away the tears on her cheeks. "Why exactly is it you're showing this to me now? Is it because your conscience belatedly realized that lying about this is an unacceptable thing to do? Or is it because of our fight?"
He pursed his lips and avoided her gaze, staring at his own feet instead.
"So first you decide to conceal this rather important piece of information from me, and then you figured you'd use it to your advantage after one bad fight. Is that really all I mean to you? Was tonight so terrible that you'd rather spend an eternity with Astoria than a couple of years with me?"
Her voice broke at the last word, and she was unable to hold back a sob.
"Hermione, I—" Draco started, sounding defeated.
"No," she said decidedly, managing to sound impressive despite crying. "Not a word, Malfoy. I'm going back to my room. I suggest you find another place to sleep tonight, because if I see you there you will regret it."
And once again Draco was alone, his emotions threatening to choke him. He was torn, and it seemed so very fitting that he was once again standing on the Astronomy Tower faced with a decision that might change his life forever. Before Hermione found him, he'd convinced himself this was the right thing to do. They were too different for it to work, and the idea of it working was somehow even more terrifying, because then they'd still separate in five years and he wasn't sure if he could live with that. She'd bounce back and make it work, like she always did, and he'd be left, alone and desolate, forced to watch her move on in a world that didn't accept him anymore. He'd grown far too attached to her already, it was better to end it before he fell too deep.
And if the prospect of marrying Astoria was not a joyful one, at least it was known territory; he knew how pure-blood arranged marriages worked, as did Astoria, and he was sure they'd find a way to be, if not happy, at least content together. It wouldn't be this rollercoaster of emotions, this pain, this jealousy… It would be far more simple, and simple was good, sometimes.
But now that Hermione had walked out on him, perhaps forever, the aching pain in his chest was a pretty clear indication that he'd already fallen far deeper than he thought he had. And the pain in her eyes when she'd realized why he showed her the letter then… Guilt had gnawed at his insides so fiercely he'd wanted to fall on his knees and beg her forgiveness.
He was a stubborn little coward, however, and the fear of being vulnerable had been stronger than his more genuine impulses. As soon as that thought crossed his mind, the lies he'd been telling himself all evening fell apart, like a house of cards tumbling under a gust of wind. A sob wrenched its way out of his chest, and his shoulders shook with the force of it.
It was then that Draco knew he had been mistaken. He'd told himself the decision to push Hermione to make her realize the annulment was the best option had been based on rational arguments, not emotions, but now he could clearly see it was in fact fear that had been his guide all along.
He'd fucked up. Badly. And after the stunt he pulled, Hermione would never want to see him again.
"I'm a fool," he muttered to himself, looking forlorn. "I don't deserve her anyway."
After staying where he was long enough for the cold to settle into his bones, he went to the Slytherin dorm rooms, where Pansy and Blaise were still awake, bickering about another bet they were thinking of making.
"Draco, what's the matter?" Pansy asked upon seeing his face, abruptly interrupting Blaise. "Did Granger find you?"
"Can I crash here?" Draco said, not answering her questions. "Hermione kicked me out."
"Merlin, mate," said Blaise, standing up and walking towards his friend. "You look like an inferi, what happened? Surely it's nothing you two won't be able to figure out?"
Draco laughed, then, a joyless, bitter laugh that promised no good, and shoved his mother's letter, which he had brought with him, into Blaise's hands.
Blaise read it, his brow furrowing more and more as he went on. "Oh gods, Draco, please tell me it's not as bad as I think."
"It's probably worse," Draco answered dejectedly. "Now is there a free bed somewhere?"
"Yeah, sure, take mine, I'll transfigure a couch."
As soon as Draco left the room, Pansy turned to Blaise. "It must be pretty bad if you're willing to give up your bed. What did he do?"
"Let's just say we'll have a lot to do come morning. I'm going to find Ginny. You might want to read this," Blaise said, handing her the letter. "Pay special attention to the ending."
"I will. You go, I'll keep an eye on Draco."
Feel free to review