A/n: Whoops.ü Didn't thought I'd be that inspired for another chapter.ü

I was a little frustrated when I did this chapter so forgive me of its weirdness.ü

But anyways, I hope you enjoy this as well. My heart's in it.

Well, figuratively speaking, of course.ü

I guess this will do for now...ü

Have fun now.ü And thanks for being so patient with me.ü

I know that you know that you guys still matter a lot to me.ü

Until next update then!ü

By: Aningme

Chapter 33

Dilemma: The Sequel

He couldn't say if he was only avoiding going back to Hogwarts or he was in desperate need for a walk that made him roam around Hogsmeade at this hour. He wanted to go back and see her, talk to her, just like they always did…

But he wouldn't. Couldn't. She wanted to be alone for now. She wanted to stay away from him. He knew it was stupid of him to whip his nasty temper at her, therefore bringing up the stupid things he had said. He never meant to say those things to her, to accuse her of anything.

But, it seemed like it was buried deep inside him, those thoughts that sputtered that night.

He hated himself for admitting he'd been thinking about that… if Narcissa was right all along… If she was really right to think that Hermione would still be….

Shut up. Just shut the fucking hell up.

Taking a few turns and just going nowhere, he only blocked his mind and kept his eyes at everything around him, noting the changes, big and small, missing the old Hogsmeade as it looked during his day. Seeing students having fun with their bags of candies, clothes, and snacks they'd bring in school, sharing laughter and bragging at everyone with what they got. It didn't seem like long ago when he was one of them, when he only worried himself of his latest prank on the Gryffindorks and how everyone should see it and be awed by him.

He sadly smiled at that memory, when Crabbe and Goyle would use to laugh at his schemes, always kissing his ass with remarks of their amazement that he knew they never meant. They always did what he told them, like little puppies that didn't have any brains of their own. And he'd always take advantage of them; use them to his own amusement.

But then, in the end, he remembered how those two idiots saved his life when his father was too consumed by the potion Voldemort gave them… Lucius Malfoy was so angry at him that he attempted to use the spell that was the deadliest of all on him… just to hurt him in the most possible way…

And without hesitation, Goyle jumped right in front of him, receiving the curse of death.

He remembered how shocked he was when he saw Goyle's eyes… those lifeless eyes… that drove him out of his sanity. Crabbe only held him back, telling him it wouldn't do good to fight.

But he was too deaf and blind by his rage… that rage which made his father enjoy killing even more…

He'd do anything to hurt Draco… to make him miserable… drown him in pain…

And so… he took Crabbe's life as well… right in front of him.

Surprised by his unwanted walk down in memory lane, he turned to the next street and into a pub he'd never seen before in Hogsmeade. He needed something strong to push those memories aside, anything that'd make his way of thinking blurry.

He just wanted to drift away… anywhere… away from everything.

"A glass—no—make that a gallon of malt. Or anything stronger you might have."

The woman handling the bar stared at him, narrowed her eyes just a little slyly, and wiped at the counters. "Tough night?"

"I've seen better." He took a stool, glanced at the tables occupied by a lot of wizards and witches wanting a break. Hushed tones, the sound of pages from the Daily Prophet being flipped, and glass thumping on the tables droned inside of his head.

"Look, we don't have malt under these tables. But I can give you something I think you'll like."

"Sure. Whatever." He watched two old men playing with cards, one grabbing the lapel of the other when he caught him cheating. The other tried to compromise. And he only grinned when the offended sputtered his card on the offender's face.

"Hey! I don't want trouble in my pub, Mr. Finelley."

"Sucker Donnel here's cheating."

"I'm sure he's just playin'." She rolled her eyes and settled them back at her newcomer. "I've never seen your pretty face around here. New?"

"You can say that." Draco answered, ignoring her, just watching the scene unfold before him.

She knew that face the moment he stepped in. She'd curse herself if she didn't recognize him, a man with such a presence as his. And smirking, she leaned to him, just a little too close for comfort. "It's fun finding fresh faces 'round these parts." She reached out to his face, surprising him, holding his chin to face her. "And it's definitely fun finding a familiar one that I've never seen for… let me see… a decade?"

He furrowed his brows in confusion. Stared at her. "Sorry?"

She laughed easily, touching a hand near her heart. It was skipping some, never imagining that she'll live up to see him again. "Ouch. That hurt, Drakie. I've been thinking about you a lot. Obviously, you never did some thinking about me."

Drakie. He felt his blood drain out of his face as recognition dawned over him. "Pansy Parkinson."

"There you go." Pansy laughed again, slapping a mug of yellow substance before him. "Butter beer with vodka and cherry syrup. On the house."

Gathering his composure back, he reached for it and sipped, studying her over the rim. "It's been a while."

"Been too long, that's what it is." She touched his hand, held on, showing him her blood red painted nails. "We were all wondering about you. You vanished out of existence."

"Been busy."

"I bet. The top notch Draco Malfoy, back in Hogwarts. How are you doing?"

"Fine." It felt awkward, seeing her after all these years. Her hair was longer now, dyed chocolate brown than her natural black, pulled back by a ribbon. Her lips were painted the same shade as her nails, and her lids were as dark as her hair. But all in all, she looked terrifyingly the same. "It looks like you're doing well too."

She chuckled, managing to spurt out a flattering blush on her cheeks. "Oh, definitely. This pub's doing well for years now after I bought this place of a junkyard and rebuild it. But enough about me. I want to hear more of you."

He smoothly slid his hand away from hers. "I'm sure the word has spread out and about. I'm here for an investigation."

"But it wouldn't hurt to enjoy the stay now, would it?" Propping her elbows on the counter, she practically stared at him with her face an inch apart from his. "It wouldn't hurt to greet old friends."

He drank his drink to its last drop, just to maneuver away from her. "Thanks for the drink."

"It's my pleasure, Drakie." Grabbing two more mugs filled with the same yellow substance, she stepped out of the bar and sat beside him, deliberately brushing her exposed thighs from her short skirt with his knees. "Why don't we drink to good old times?"

Obliging her, he took the mug from her and sipped. "I won't be long."

"Oh. I see now." She batted her eyes at him, gracefully sipping at her drink. "Is Granger holding you on a short leash?"

He smiled at her, the smile bone wrenchingly cold. "She hasn't placed any bodily bondage around me, if I'm not mistaken."

"Well, you're not a pet to cage in, Drakie dear. You're too sneaky for that." She laughed again, her voice dreadfully high pitched, this time irritating his ears.

He calmly returned his mug on the table, and just stared at her. "I'm not the same person as I was, Parkinson."

"Sure, sure. I've heard you've built a great empire in muggle world. I never indeed imagined that."

"No one seemed to."

"You used to hate muggles so much. You despise them."

"I was ignorant."

"Oh, jeez, you? Ignorant? I don't think so." She smiled at him sweetly. "It's not your fault to hate them. They're useless to the society."

He only cocked an eyebrow at her.

"You should know better. You live with them now." She laughed again, slowly resting her hand on his thigh as she flashed her set of white teeth at him with her hundred watt smile.

"I'd suggest you to take your hands off me before you embarrass yourself even more."

"Drakie dear, did miss little wifey make you so rigid? I'm sure she'd allow you some freedom." She practically purred. "How are you with that?"

"I wouldn't, in my place, relate marriage as something like a cage. And as for the freedom you're pertaining to, I'd never bend the promise I've made my wife on our marriage."

She pouted, almost exaggeratingly, at him. "Promises usually don't last long."

"Mine does."

"Of course, of course." She smiled at him, making her eyes glitter for a flirty touch. "But as I've heard, your wife couldn't even remember anything about that promise." She touched his face, stroked his cheeks. "It must be hard for you to know that."

Irritated, he grabbed her hands from his face and placed them on her lap gently. "I'm inlove with my wife, Parkinson."

She only stared at him, then laughed it off and waved her hand. "For real?" When he only stared back at her, she frowned and shrugged. "Wow. I'd never imagine that as well."

"Like I said, I've changed."

"So it seems." She rested her chin on her palm, watching him, that face, that sexy mouth. "I missed you."

He stood up, drank the last of his drink, and tossed a few change for them. "It's a pleasure to see you again."

As he walked off, she just sat there and sighed.

She knew it in her gut, knew it with her heart even if she swore herself to the devil.

He never did love her. Never did pay attention to her. She never saw that something in his eyes when he said he was inlove with that woman. She never saw it when they were seeing each other. Never saw it when he looked at her.

She laughed at that, laughing her way back to the bar.

Hermione Granger. As Mrs. Draco Malfoy. Who would have thought of that?

She never saw that a possibility. Never saw a half blood as a rival for the only man she ever loved.

She picked up her own mug, sipped, and felt the urge to smash it into the wall.

When it seemed like she was over him and all, he'll show up on her doorstep and unconsciously walk into her life again.

And, silently cursing at herself, he'll always make her heart flip and dance, and then shatter it to pieces all over again.

Yeah, just like old times. She thought, lifting her mug and tipping it to his empty one on the table.

He wasn't back still. He'd been gone most of the day. But he's not yet back.

Pacing by their room, she glanced at the books she got from the library and sighed. Maybe she just missed him from staying too long in the library. Maybe he was already here, just roaming around somewhere… dealing with something.

No, ma'am. Sir Draco Malfoy isn't in the premises. I'll make sure to report to you the moment he steps in.

But Lowry hadn't reported to her since then. It's dark now, and the dinner sent for them went cold from waiting. She never saw him the whole day. She couldn't help it but worry and wonder where he is.

Where on bloody earth is he?

Too pissed to sit, she strode to the window and stared out. He's somewhere out there... cold, alone.

Damn it. She shouldn't have driven him away. She shouldn't have shrugged him off like that.

Damn it, damn it, damn it! Now it's my bloody fault. She huffed out a breath and crossed her arms over her chest.

She knew she handled their fight poorly .She just ran with her emotions without thinking. She knew that when she does, she always end up making things worse than what they should be.

As she cursed at herself and brooded over all of her mistakes, she stared out beyond the scope of the lake and the forbidden forest and saw a figure emerge from the doors, walking out to the cold forest.

Squinting enough to see, she knew it was him, that certain built, that stride. She somehow knew it by heart to recognize it from far away, even if he was hidden in darkness.

And not knowing it, she smiled in relief for the first time that night, and headed for the door.

As she ran through the corridors, Lowry passed her.

"Ma'am. Sir Malfoy just arri—"

"I know." She interjected and left the house elf staring at her back in bafflement.

He just stood there and stared at the line of tall trees when she found him. The winds were playing at his hair. His hands were kept inside his pockets, his back facing her. She wanted to run to him, hug him, and just hold him. She never realized how worried she was when he was away, how her mind constantly pulled back at the thought of him.

But, just satisfying herself to see him, she just stood there behind him, watching him in silence.

"It's late." He suddenly spoke, standing still. "You shouldn't be out here in the cold."

"I should say the same." She answered, tucking her robes more tightly around her as the gush of winds whipped at them.

He turned to her, his ghostly pale eyes catching her hazel ones. "You should rest."

"I know what I should and shouldn't do." She retorted, just standing there. "Everyone's nagging at me the whole day."

"Well," he began, walking to her. "Everyone's just worried about you."

She just watched him, yearning to touch his face, to run her hand through his thick mane. But instead, she jammed her hands in her pockets, having nothing better to do with them.

Damn it, she won't give in to her urges.

She can prove to herself she can live without him holding a complete control over her heart. "I'm worried about you."

He smiled at that, at the simple way she said it, and stepped up to her, stood before her. "I'm so sorry."

Her heart ached at that. Bloated. She could still remember how he'd never apologize for anything he did in the past, no matter big or small.

And now, he's apologizing to her.

"Did you really think I did that to you? Use you as replacement?"

He thought of the times she stood by the rooftop of her hospital building, contemplating to jump off or not.

Then, he thought of that day at the lake when she did everything to save his life, calling out his name that made him come back to life.

"I'm doing everything I can to bring you back…" he began, his mouth suddenly turning dry. "I'm doing everything under my power to return the memories that you lost, the memories of us… of how we were…" He paused, feeling the aftermath of alcohol he chugged down in his system.

Cursing at himself, he continued. "I never doubted you about Potter. But, knowing your past, and the fact that it is the only thing you have right now, made me think if you feel exactly that…. the way you did before…"

When he was only followed by a droning silence, he felt his back breaking a sweat, suddenly overly aware of her staring eyes. Feeling the throb in his head growing persistent, he reached for his temples and began to knead.

"Hermione—"

"You think I am that inconsiderate of you?" She cut him off, ignoring the fatigue apparent on his face, only focusing at the issue at hand. If she didn't face him with her own questions, she'll never be able to ask him again.

Just like what he said to her before: It's now... or it's never.

"I—"

"Were you even thinking that when you married me?"

He blinked, disoriented by all means. "You're questioning me if I doubted your fidelity with a dead man?"

"I didn't say anything about questioning. I only want to know—"

"You're the first one who brought doubt into this, Hermione, having you assume that I accuse you of loving a dead man over me."

"That dead man has a name, for Pete's sake." Feeling her nerves going berserk, she rapidly ran her hands through her head to calm them. Her gaze hovered for a moment. Her throat tightened in a choke. "You're twisting this, Draco."

"It's twisted as it is." Hearing her defend him stabbed like a rain of pointed arrows. He felt his temper rise at the base of his neck, leaving him urging to smash something. "It's bloody confusing and it's complica—"

"Don't talk to me about complications." She said it in a degree higher than she intended, her own temper gnawing at her. "I don't know what happened to us. I don't know what went through with us or how we ended up getting married. But yet, here I am, standing here, married to you. There's nothing simple abou—"

"Damn it, Hermione." His temper snapped beyond his control. He reached out to her, gripped her arms and jerked her to him, slowly resting his brows on hers, his eyes burning in frustration. "I'm dealing with that. I'm doing all I can to bring you back…" He paused, closing his eyes, willing the pounding in his head to go away. His voice sounded soft… pained… his threatening temper suddenly changing its form into mere despair. "I'm trying… I'm trying to bring us back… And damn all who tries to stop me, I'll have you back."

Watching him, she knew he had no clue… NOT a single clue… how she felt for him.

He had no idea how he could stop her heart just by standing there.

Their faces still an inch apart, he stared into her eyes so vividly that she felt like she was melting into his hands. "No one can stop me. And I'm damn fucking sure that you can't stop me too. I won't have you walking away from me."

"I didn't walk away." Her voice threatened to tremble, to shake. She could hardly keep her body from quivering under his palms. "You're the one who pushed me away."

"Bollocks." He pushed away from her, pacing restlessly. "Fucking bollocks, that's what that is."

"You say that because you don't see it. You can't see it" Her voice shook now, her eyes welling up. "You're too blind with your own damned jealousy to see it."

"Jealousy?Jealousy?" He laughed, his frustration dripping so patently. "Fuck that. This is not jealousy, Hermione. It doesn't even amount to that."

"What is it then, huh?" She stepped up to him, gripped his shirt and dragged at him. "Humor me."

He stared back at her, his eyes still bright in fury.

But then, as she watched him, she noticed the way he glanced at her hand gripping at his shirt, the way his face suddenly thawed from pure rage… to vulnerability.

"You want to know what it is?" He began, his voice dropping into a deafening whisper.

She raised her chin as her response.

If it was another time, he would have smiled at that. Her undefeatable stubbornness.

If only it was another time...

"It's fear."

Caught off guard, she just stared back at him. "Fear of what?"

He slowly stepped away from her, away from her touch. He couldn't speak with her touching him.

He knew his control could only reach up to that. "Fear of you thinking that I'd be better off dead than him… Fear of you thinking that you'd be much happier with him…" His eyes seemed to turn to a lighter shade of gray--if it were even possible--chilling her to the bone. "I'm afraid of you gazing at your wedding ring and thinking if he was the one who gave that to you and not me… then you'd be happier..."

She didn't speak. Couldn't. Even if she attempted, she knew she'd break down and weep.

And as he turned and started to walk away, she just stood there, her feet plastered to the ground. His last words seemed to echo through the air and into the forests, along with her sobs that appeared to have welled up while he spoke.

And do you know what else I'm fucking afraid of?

I'm afraid of you looking at me with that beautiful smile on your face…

… then I'd see regret in your eyes.

A/n: That was tough.ü

Anyways, again, sorry about the weirdness.ü

See you again for next chappie.ü

And pray that I'd be finished with that earlier than my usual ...ü