Disclaimer: None of the orginal blah blah blah belongs to blah and blah blah making no blah blaaaaaaah off of this blahhh.
A/N: Well, I failed. I got 147/150 reviews. BUT, I am not angry. Reviews are nice, obviously, but they aren't everything to me and to prove that here is another chapter in my drawn out tale three reviews early. I love you guys, thanks for those who did review-I appreciate it. I'll update within the next two weeks, after I go home and unpack. One last thing-It's going to be summer for me next week and I hope to update once every two weeks AT LEAST. I don't know if it'll be finished by September, but it's a good possibility!
Draco:
If he had grown up knowing he was a half-blood, what would he have been like?
It was strange, but the more that Draco thought about who he was, the more he saw that all he wanted to be was someone who Hermione Granger could love.
He wondered if they could have been friends…if they would have fallen in love sooner…if it would have been accepted by her friends.
Would they have fought Voldemort together?
Could they have been married? Have a child?
But then…they were so young. Even right now, he was so young. It barely seemed possible.
He hadn't left his bed all day. Wards were set up around his house so no one could pop in unexpectedly.
But if he were to really and truly shut himself up all day, what could he do? The answer came quite quickly.
Cook.
Running downstairs to the kitchen, he realized he hadn't really eaten since before his mother had died. What a strange thing that was: grief took away the need for anything but suffering.
He opened pantry after pantry, taking out ingredient after ingredient. Though he had never cooked in his own home before, flashes of the maid and his mother running around came to him and he instinctively moved to where things were.
When everything was laid out before him, he preheated the oven to 350 degrees. He found it interesting, but not surprising, that he still cooked the Muggle way. Everyone in his life used charms and spells, but there was a deep satisfaction, even though he had his magic back, that came with doing things himself.
First he covered a casserole disk with olive oil, spreading it around until it completely coated the bottom. With the remaining olive oil, he warmed it over a skillet. Adding some chopped garlic, he sautéed until it was lightly browned. With light fingers, he mixed in parsley and eggplant. When the eggplant was soft, he seasoned it al with salt. Not too much, he heard in his head though no one had ever warned him of that before.
The eggplant mixture was perfect, and he spread it on the bottom of the casserole dish. He sprinkled some cheese and then spread zucchini in an even layer over the top. Adding a little more salt and cheese, he repeated the process, layering some more with onions, mushrooms, bell peppers and tomatoes.
Satisfied, he put the dish in the oven and set a timer for 45 minutes.
It made him sad that he ate so frequently by himself. He remembered, not so long ago, that he cooked for Hermione. How much she loved to taste his new concoctions. He wished she could try this one-he had always wanted to make it but never did.
The heat in the kitchen became too much and he went over to the big window above the sink, opening it slowly. Winter crawled in and brushed the hairs on his arms.
What a strange time it was to be thinking about Christmas, but he did anyway. It was a month in the future, but he couldn't help but think that it would be the first he had ever spent on his own. He had nobody now, after all.
How long would the loneliness last?
A high-pitched beeping shuddered him back to the kitchen, and he went to the stove, turning the timer off. With over mitts, he opened the door and took out the casserole dish, which smelled absolutely divine.
He pulled out a single plate, fork, knife and cup, setting the table and feeling even lonelier.
Delving out a serving on his plate, he sat and dug in. It was many tastes all at once. Salty, spicy, sweet, chewy.
He ate seconds and then thirds, biting and swallowing until he was almost too full to eat anymore.
The chair groaned as he sat up. There was still more in the dish, and steam rose in swirls.
He wrapped it in saran-wrap and then put it in the fridge.
-X-
Draco woke with the worst head-ache, akin to any hangover, though he had not drank a single drop.
"Fuck me." He groaned and rubbed his pulsing forehead.
Although he didn't want to leave his bed he did, walking instead over to the window and sitting on the ledge. He flicked his wand and the window rose slowly, creaking a bit from rust.
"Have I really been gone that long?" he murmured, and pulled out a cigarette.
"You really should quit that."
He almost fell out of the window he was so shocked. Whipping around he held his wand into the girls face, and then sighed as he recognized it.
"What the fuck are you doing here, Weasley?"
"Well it was a bit difficult to get here, actually. I almost gave up. But, you know, you should really double check the floo network next time."
"Right, I'll get on that immediately. Now go away."
"How are you, Draco?" she said and took one of his cigarettes.
"I thought you said-"
"Shut up." She used her wand to light up and then sat down on his bed.
"Get out of my house. I don't want you here."
"What are you going to do? Alert the Ministry?"
"Don't test me."
"Fucking sit down."
He bit his tongue in anger. The cheek of that girl never ceased to amaze him. Then again, cheek was what he loved about Hermione.
He sat back down on the ledge and leaned a bit out the window, feeling the air.
"It's almost winter."
"Skip over the weather small talk. Why are you here?"
"Should be obvious."
"Well it isn't."
She took a drag and laughed, choking a bit before spitting out the smoke.
"You're a mess. And so is she. You need each other."
"No." he understood immediately.
"Draco, please. You don't-"
"Don't what? Understand? I fucking understand a hell of a lot more than you do, Weaslette."
"You two were made for each other, you idiot. You can't deny that."
"You're right. We are made for something-for hatred, and violence and anger. For ruining each other. We ruined each other, Weasley."
"Ginny. My name is Ginny. I've called you Draco to be kind, please do the same."
"A name is but a name, Ginny."
"Not to me, Malfoy."
He smirked and took her cigarette from her fingers, burning it out and tossing it into the air. His mother hated it when he did that. She was always afraid it would light the grass on fire.
"I wasn't finished."
"I am. This is my house. I've asked you to leave many times, but you haven't listened. I, however, have listened to you. And I hear you. But I can't do this anymore. I'm not right for her, despite what you keep trying to tell me. Argument over."
He waved her away and closed his eyes, leaning his head against the windowsill. Counting the minutes, he focused on the cool sensation of wood against skin, praying that she had managed to leave quietly, and that she wasn't still sitting on his bed like he thought she was.
"Have you left?"
"No."
He opened his eyes and glared at her. She looked perfectly at ease in his room, on his bed. In her own way, she was very beautiful. Her long red hair was like a curtain on either shoulder, her skin was like milk. But he wasn't stirred in the least by her presence. She just wasn't his type.
"What do you want from me?"
"Come back with me. Show her you still care. I know you do."
"Can I just…ask you something?"
"Sure."
"How did you…" he paused, unsure. "I mean to say…I think she only told Potter we were dating-er, seeing each other. How did you know?"
"You mean, do all of us know?"
"Yes."
"No."
"Ah." He sighed, half relieved.
"Are you that ashamed of her?" she whispered.
His head snapped up. He glared at her until his eyes felt like they'd fall out.
"I love her. I'm not ashamed of anything except myself."
"That's a poor excuse for staying away."
And then she stood and stretched before turning away and walking out of his room.
-X-
If Draco had learned one thing, it was that being alone wasn't as perfect as he had tried to make it out to be.
He strolled though Diagon Alley with his eyes trained to the ground and his teeth fixed together. When he finally looked up, he saw her.
She was clutching a nameless book in her hands, the spine facing towards him. Ron stood across from her, his hands waving about in a gesture he couldn't understand. She threw her head back and laughed, her curls tumbling down her back.
She was beautiful, and he couldn't remember the last time he had seen her laugh like that.
As he was about to leave she turned and saw him as well. Ron's head quickly followed and his body visibly stiffened upon seeing him.
He started to retreat, wanting nothing more than to be in his mansion, by himself.
"Draco!" she called, but he kept on walking. "Draco, wait!"
Her footsteps quickened until they were at pace with his own. He glanced over and saw that she was next to him.
"Oh." He mumbled.
"So, hey."
"Hi."
"Can I walk with you?"
"You already are, or so it would seem."
"Good, thanks."
He didn't say anything and hoped she would leave. No such luck.
"Here, come here."
She grabbed his arm without warning, their bodies sucking into a vaccum with a loud and dizzying pop.
"What the FUCK, Hermione. Did we just apparate?"
But he could see for himself that they had. They were in the National Park at Ireland, he knew without asking. He knew this place better than he knew himself. The places they had fucked, and then lay together naked. The stream they had ran into, the flowers that had tickled their feet.
"Why-"
"Listen." She demanded. "I'm sick of this. I've done nothing to deserve your ongoing spite. I-"
"You've done nothing, have you? So it was somebody else who tried to kill themselves then."
"No. You don't-"
"Understand? I don't understand? Fine, I'm ignorant of your problems. But I didn't have to be. You kept me out of the loop on purpose. You twisted my emotions and used my love for you as a way to manipulate me. And then you tried to kill yourself. You would rather have left me than try to stay."
She stood very still and the breeze carried the faint scent of lavender to his nose. He breathed in and closed his eyes. He could apparate out if he wanted. He didn't have to be human if he didn't want to.
"You love me?" she whispered.
His eyes flew open. She was looking at him in the saddest of ways.
"Loved. I loved you."
She shook her head and stepped closer.
"No. You love me."
"Don't tell me how I feel, Granger."
"Shut up, Malfoy. Tell me again."
"What? No. Stop that."
She slipped her arms around his neck and stood on her toes, her breath tickling his cheek.
"I love you." She said. "I never stopped."
His chest hurt, the thought of her being so close, and possibly leaving again killed him.
"Fine. Yes. I love you. But don't you see? Five minutes ago we were fighting."
"So?"
"Everything that happened between us happened for a reason. This is who we are together-nothing is going to change."
She smiled and kissed him, lightly. As she drew away, he noticed for maybe the first time that the outer rims in her eyes had blue in them. He had spent months looking at her, and yet somehow missed this small detail.
"You are the person that I have to be with, Draco." She looked directly at him. "Do you feel the same way?"
"Yes." He smiled. He didn't even have to consider it. "Always."