Note: slight change I've made in the previous chapter. When they talked about their next Quidditch game, it was not in one week, but three.
Another note, yes I know...this kind of sounds like WoW's "The Shattering" but suck it up. I'm also sorry for the delay; I've been very busy with life, what with essay after essay and test after test. I was always working on doing NaNoWriMo, but I ran out of time to write due to a huge essay due next week, so I kind of gave up on it.
So, I apologize for the wait, but here it is.
Chapter 16
The Shattering
"What the bloody hell is wrong with you?"
"With me? What the hell is wrong with her? Did you just see that?"
"Yes, I saw it! I saw you being an insufferable prat and her finally putting you in your place!`
A leg stretched out, foot making harsh contact with a fallen chair. Ron glared down at his feet, wanting nothing more than to chase after her and make her see the truth. Harry was wrong; something was wrong with her. He knew it.
"Ì am not an insufferable prat," Ron snapped, glaring up at Harry, who stood on the other side of the broken table, green eyes flashing with rage. Ginny stodd off the side, uncharacteristically quiet, as though she needed to watch the scene unfold in order to understand it better.
"Yes, you are. Sometimes you just…oh bloody hell," Harry cursed, running a hand through his permanently unruly hair. "Honestly, what did you expect her to do? Show up in her underwear and give you a lap dance?"
"Something along those lines, yes!" Ron kicked at a fallen plate, sending more crumbs skittering across the floor.
"Then you're bloody mental." Harry then began to pace, the frustration building up and threatening to flood and overwhelm him to the point where he might do something he'd regret. He had to push it back, had to take a moment to think before trying to rationalize with his friend long enough for the redhead to calm down. "Ron, Hermione isn't like that at all. You know that."
"I know," the redhead replied sharply, hands clenched into fists at his sides. "I know that, but…fuck, shouldn't she give me what I want for my birthday? It's my bloody birthday!"
"She gave you what she thought you wanted," Harry answered, voice slowly increasing in volume. "She knew you needed new Keeper gloves and it was nice of her to get you a gift certificate on top of it. Can't you just be grateful that she got you something?"
"She didn't get me what I wanted!" Another plate when flying across the floor.
"Then try making more reasonable gift ideas!" Harry kicked at the table as the aggravation built up. "Don't start expecting her to show up, barely dressed and ready to give in to your desires! She wouldn't do that for anyone, not even the person she loves!"
"She loves me, she would do it for me!"
"She does not love you, Ron!"
The men turned to find Ginny standing near the front of the room, body stiff and trembling with barely restrained rage. Her face was flushed with anger and her eyes glowed with tears.
Ron slowly closed his mouth that had opened in shock, swallowing thickly before readying his response. "What?"
"You heard me, she doesn't love you," Ginny snapped. "She did, she used to, but you treated her like shit and chased her away." Her arms began gesticulating wildly, eyes burning with fire. "She used to want to be with you, but now things are different. Things change, people change, Ron. She doesn't love you anymore at all, maybe as a brother, but I doubt she'd even feel that way about you after your childish behaviour just now."
Ron's mouth opened and closed for a moment, giving him the appearance of a shocked fish. Harry couldn't help but grin, mainly inwardly. He had been waiting for Ginny to snap and if anyone, aside from Hermione, could put Ron in his place and maybe unearth the old Ron, it was Ginny.
"You're lying! That's not true at all; she loves me!"
"Why do you keep telling yourself that?" She unconsciously waved her wand, causing a nearby wastebasket to explode in a flurry of forgotten papers. "She doesn't love you and probably won't love you ever again after today. Learn to understand that people have free will; they choose who they want to love and can't make anybody else love them! She made a choice, just like you did. You choose to ignore her affection, and she chose to take it back and find somebody else to give it to, somebody who will appreciate it more than you did."
"I…I did appreciate it…"
"You did not. You barely gave her the time of day; you used her for school work, used her for her brains, and never once thanked her. Did you ever think of that? Maybe the only reason she stuck around so long was because she was infatuated with you. Now, she can't stand you because she's realized how much of an arse you are." She kicked at several papers on the ground, sending them fluttering in the air.
"You're wrong! She did and does love me! I know it; I can see it in her eyes. She even got me a present!"
"That you basically compared to a pile of shit. Don't you think that hurts? She goes out of her way to find you a gift, to get you something nice, just like the rest of us, and you act like it's the worst gift in the entire world! How do you think she feels? Like shit, just the way you've been treating her this whole time!"
"No…no. She should have just gotten me what I wanted, then I wouldn't have been so upset. I…I was happy, I just…" he began to fumble for his words, trying to make sense, trying to fight back as much as he could.
"Bollocks!"
His eyes widened at his sister's words and his mouth opened, ready to retaliate, when she cut him off.
"No, shut your bloody mouth for five minutes and fucking listen! You were happy until you opened her present, then you became some selfish git who didn't get what he wanted and was about to throw a bloody tantrum! I know you used to be a right prat at times, but now it's just…it's too much." Her voice was growing louder with each word, face redder and eyes brighter. Harry jerked involuntarily, wishing he could move towards her, but knew that she would just push off his touch. When she got angry, she didn't like bodily contact. "Before," she continued, "you wouldn't have cared. You would have been so happy to just get a nice gift, and she got you a really nice present. But now, you're expecting too much and wanting the wrong things. Have you ever once considered how she feels? Have you?"
Shame filled his eyes at her words. "Well, of course I have," he answered, trying to gain some kind of strength to fight back. "I know that she loves me and wants to be with me, I know that she'll only be happy with me." A while ago, those words would have been forcefully spoken with true ardor and belief. Now, however, they were half-mumbled, spoken as though even the speaker was beginning to doubt them.
It was a sign that Ginny's and Hermione's earlier words were making an impact on his delusional mind. They were breaking through.
"Look, Ron," she said, voice calmer now that she finally saw his brief realization, "you need help. You're not yourself; something happened to you during the war. I don't know what, maybe somebody hit you with a curse, but you've been different since the end of the war and it's only gotten worse. You need help. You can't keep going on like this; you're pushing everyone away. Bill and Charlie are almost ashamed of you after what you've done, Mum is really upset, and Hermione wants nothing to do with you anymore. Do you realize why? Don't you realize that you're the one who's doing all of this, not anyone else?"
"We've been trying to help you," Harry said softly, sending a brief look to Ginny. "We've been trying to cheer you up, to get you to think straight, but you just don't. It's like you refuse to listen to a word we say and it's insulting for us and also stressful. We're tired of seeing you lose it, we're fed up of listening to you shout and cry. Break out of this fucked up world you're in and try to think clearly." He took a step forward, reaching out to press his hand against Ron's shoulder in a brotherly, soothing manner. "You need help, and we're here for you. Maybe, if you get enough help, Hermione will come back and, maybe, she'll forgive you."
Ron's eyes suddenly welled with tears and he glanced quickly to Harry. "She's angry at me, isn't she?"
"That's putting it lightly," Ginny snorted, moving over to them with her arms crossed under her breasts, wand stuck in her ponytail.
"But…but…I thought that she and I…I thought that we were meant for each other. Shouldn't that mean that it shouldn't matter what I do, that she'll love me anyway?" He was grasping at straws now, trying to find something that would make sense that would help strengthen his suddenly crumbling world. "We're meant to be!"
Harry shook his head, sympathy etched in his face. "I'm afraid not, Ron. She doesn't love you like she used to. She's changed; she grew up, and moved on. She'll find someone else, and so will you Ron. But, you want to at least be her friend again, don't you? If you do this, if you start getting help, then she might at least be your friend again." The words were a promise Harry knew he couldn't keep, but he needed to say something that might convince Ron to understand and agree. Ron's mind had become frail, a delicate world surrounded by heavily fortified delusions, and it hurt them to see Ron so lost, so psychologically broken. He may have once been immature, hell, he would always be immature, but this…this was not Ron.
"So…so if I change, if I fix myself…Hermione will come back to me?"
There was so much hope in his voice, so much need, that it burned Harry's heart and made Ginny's stomach tighten uncomfortably. They knew that the chances of it happening now were slimmer than before, but they also knew that Hermione had always been loyal to her friends.
"Maybe not right away," Harry answered honestly. "But, you have to know she might not come back at all for a very long time."
"Not good enough!" Ron shut his eyes tightly, trying to push the negativity out of his mind. "That's not good enough!"
"If you want her to come back," Ginny snapped, "then you need to make some goddamn changes. You can't force her to come back, but you can convince her by changing. You need to see Madame Pomfrey and maybe a PsychWitch."
"You have to start pulling your weight around if you want this to work out between you and Hermione," Harry added. "So far, you've just been ordering her to love you, telling her she had no choice and that it was fate. Things don't work like that Ron. If two people want to be in a relationship, they both need to work together in order to make things work. You've doing the exact opposite of that, Ron."
"But…but…"
"No buts, Ron. This has gotten too far. We've dealt with this so far, but it's too much. We won't be able to stand much more it either; you need help. How many times do we have to say it?" Harry reached and grabbed Ron's shoulders, squeezing them tightly, fighting the urge to shake him in order to wake him from his delusional world. "Snap out of it and get some bloody help!"
Ron lifted his head, eyes shinning in the light as he met Harry's gaze. Tears swirled to the surface, pushing away all fog of mental deceit, fighting back all of the delusional shadows that threatened to overwhelm his world. His face contorted, lines deepening, expression twisting as despair began to truly take hold. Tears poured free as his breathed hitched and heaved with every sob.
He clung to Harry as he cried, a naïve part of him wishing that his mother were here to comfort and console him the way she used to when he was young. He felt Ginny's hands reached out and gently rub his back and the mere, consoling touch broke his heart.
"What's…what's wrong…with me?" he sobbed, finally completely and utterly breaking down.
Harry dragged Ron to his body as Ginny moved closer, wrapping the man in their soothing embrace. Closing his eyes, Harry fought back wave after wave of pain.
"I don't know, Ron," he whispered softly.
"I…I'm going to get help…" the redhead choked. "I…I need to…I want…I want Hermione back…I have to…to tell her I'm s…so…sorry…"
"She'll listen," Ginny murmured.
They held him there as he sobbed out his broken heart, trying to comfort him, trying to help him put the pieces of his damaged mind back together again. Relief swam through them at the knowledge that he was finally seeing clearly, that he was more than willing to get the help he needed, but it was pushed back, hiding behind the pain of their hearts as they watched him crumble and fall apart.
Dimly, they wished that things could be the way they used to be.
The saying goes that everything gets better with time. Time gives one a period in which they could heal, where they could spend moments alone, consumed in their thoughts as they pushed back every unwanted memory into a small vault somewhere at the back of the mind. Time was something that enabled one to unwind; they could take a moment and breathe, collect the chaos and reorganize it into order, and then they would be able to see clearly.
Time healed, it helped, it enabled the broken pieces to be put back together again and let the glue settled in place.
She knew that time could only do so much, that the more she took, she more she felt like she was running away. But it helped to have and take time.
Three weeks had passed. Three long, yet fast, weeks had slid by without a single notice. Each day felt the same, the only difference being the order of classes. Every test she wrote out mechanically, spewing out piece after piece of information, while on each assignment, she merely wrote until her hand cramped and the quill refused to budge any further. Her mind was drawn away from the passing time, her thoughts focused on things more important than what day of the week it happened to be or whether it was seven in the morning or afternoon.
This focus, the attention paid to her thoughts, helped her finally sort through things to come to several conclusions.
Before, she wouldn't have believed that time could be healing; now, she could be easily listed as a 'believer.' Time really did, at the very least, help in the healing process.
She sat in the Common Room one Friday evening – she began to recognize the days of the week once the majority of the chaos had been dealt with – and had to admit, she had never felt better. Ron was slowly becoming a mere blip, a mere memory that she wished to push away, even the happier thoughts; it harder to remember the pleasant memories than to remember the painful ones. She was pleased with herself, glad that she had been able to deal with such a painful ordeal, although she had to admit that Draco had been more than helpful on more than once occasion.
Too many times in the first initial week had she been forced to lean on him, too many nights had she lain in his arms, tears streaming down her face. Now, after three painful weeks, she would cry no more, would no longer feel too weak to stand on her own. She would forget the pain in her heart and continue to live her life.
So she sat, crossing her legs Indian style for added comfort, on the sofa, unconsciously leaning slightly on the blond lounging beside her. Honestly, the man never once just sat, he had to lounge, to seem to flow with the shape of the sofa. Across from them, sitting on the sofa Hermione had transfigured from one of the chairs, were a couple that seemed as unlikely as her and Draco.
"If I recall, you promised me you would tell me how you two managed to get together," Draco had said to Blaise Zabini, which had instigated a rather lengthy tale of how he and the younger blonde beside him had somehow fallen in love. It had been somewhat complicated, what with Luna's random bits about lunar alignments and how, since she had been wearing the appropriate colours for her zodiac sign and had witnessed two Snarfurgles engaging in a mating dance that day, it had seemed very much certain that she would find a 'second-half' that day.
Blaise had kept it relatively simple, they had bumped into each other at Diagon Alley over the summer and had begun talking about a range of subjects, from the war to post-Hogwarts gossip, and how they felt about returning back to 'normal' in the Fall. The next time they spoke again had been in the library when they had been paired for a Defence Against the Dark Arts assignment and things moved rather quickly after that.
Draco had snickered whenever Luna piped up about something or other that seemed purely fictional and Hermione gladly reacted by elbowing him in the side each and every time. In the end, it had been an entertaining tale, to say the least, but things made a little more sense as to how the unlikely duo had managed to fall in love. It was nowhere near as dramatic as Hermione and Draco's 'tale of love'.
"So," Luna said as she stretched out her legs, wriggling her toes and flashing her brilliant, rainbow socks, "how have things been since Ronald's birthday?"
Blaise gave her a quick look that Hermione recognized as a plea that Luna not bring up that particular subject, but this wasn't two weeks ago. It was now, and now she was not stuck in the same cloud of internal pain and conflict she had once been.
"Good," she answered. "It was difficult at first, but things are going much better. I'm fed up of him; I think I'm better off without that prat in my life at the moment." Breathing deeply, she unconsciously reached for Draco's hand, clutching it in her own. "We used to be such good friends, Ron and I. But things changed. Draco pointed that out to me. Ron changed, and it was becoming more of a chore to be his friend. Hopefully Ron will see what I saw and try to get some help."
Draco grinned at her and draped his free arm over the back of the sofa, letting his hand dangle on her shoulder, fingers gently dancing over her. "Yes, well, Weaselbee was a nuisance anyway, so it's better that he's gone."
Hermione rolled her eyes and dug her elbow gently, yet painfully, into Draco's ribs, earning a low grunt of pain in response. "Honestly, Draco," she breathed.
He gave her a quick look before turning his eyes back to the couple in front of them just as Luna spoke up. "I heard," she began, "that Harry and Ginny might have convinced Ron to see Madame Pomfrey and a PsychWitch a couple times a week. Not many people know about it, only the close circle, but I think that you have the right to know."
Hermione's eyes lit up with curiosity and Draco wasn't sure whether to be pleased or concerned. If she jumped back into Ron's arms and friendship just because the kid had seen a PsychWitch a couple of times, then she was in for another heartbreak.
"Hermione," he began softly, squeezing her hand.
She turned and flashed him a smile. "Don't worry; I'm just glad that he's getting some help now. It'll make things better for him, but it will take a lot of work on his part before I would want to be his friend and forgive him."
Pride swelled in Draco's chest; the insecure, disbelieving woman he had seen a few months ago was now standing on her own and unafraid of seeing the truth. He was glad that she had been able to deal with the situation, and even more pleased that she had grown from it. It was always hard to watch a friend deteriorate, especially if that friend had been a constant for a very long period of time. It was always hard to pull yourself away from that constant and try to be something without them. He was glad she had grown strong enough to do so.
"I do not know how much progress they have made," Luna said, "but I think there have been some noticeable changes. You could always ask Harry how Ron is doing."
Shaking her head, Hermione smiled at her friend. "Thanks, but no. I'm going to wait a while before asking anything about Ron; it's too early."
"So," Blaise said with a grin, "now that the Almighty Ginger is getting help, do you think it's about time that you and Draco came out?" He finished with a laugh at Hermione's pointed look when he said the nickname.
"I'm not sure," Hermione started. "I…don't you think it would be too soon after the birthday incident?"
"But you two have been together for about three-four months now, right? Don't you think it would be about time to let the school know? Besides, if you were planning on doing it at the graduation ball, that is so tacky and cliché," Blaise said. "I've heard that every year there was always some couple or two that 'came out' during the ball and none were all too spectacular."
"There was the year when Elijah Corvus came out with Timothy Wood," Draco pointed out.
"Oh yes," Blaise laughed, "that was interesting from what I heard."
Hermione frowned at the reminiscing duo, curiosity etched in her face. "How did you two know about this stuff?"
Their laughing faces quickly sobered at the question and Hermione wondered if she had asked something too personal. "Slytherins stick together," the blond began, "no matter what year you were in, if you had graduated or not, Slytherins had a tendency to stick together. Most of these stories were told at Slytherin gatherings." A dark look crossed Draco's face at the memory, body tensing, either with pain or anger. There were some days when his expressions were so obvious yet so confusing at the same time.
"What…"
"Death Eater recruitment gatherings," Blaise answered softly.
She knew not to ask more in that instant; she didn't want to know more and didn't want to see the pained expression on Draco. Instead, she squeezed his hand tightly and nodded to Blaise, sending him an apologetic look before continuing, "Well, we weren't sure when we were going to come out. We considered the graduation ball, but now that you've said it would be too cliché, and I rather dislike cliches, I suppose, well…to be honest, I'm not sure, " she ended lamely, hanging her head as Draco laughed.
"How about tomorrow's Quidditch game between Slytherin and Gryffindor?"
Hermione didn't know whether she wanted to glare at or hit Luna for the suggestion, especially when Draco's face lit up at the prospect.
"The whole school will be there," her lover began, wheels turning in his head. "It would be perfect. Everyone will be watching the field, of course, we will beat Gryffindor so it'll be an added bonus." Hermione swore, if he could, he would probably be bouncing with glee on the couch. "The weather is supposed to be nice, too, everyone will already be really excited, and it would be oh so amazingly romantic," he lowered his voice in a mocking husky tone, "if you could come running onto the field and come jumping into my arms to kiss me because I played so well."
This time the elbow to his ribs was much harder and dug in deeper and he reacted by slapping her thigh rather harshly. "Draco," she hissed, rubbing her burning spot, "do you honestly think tomorrow would be that wonderful?"
"Look," he said, reaching down to squeezed her thigh in his way of apologizing for accidentally hitting a tad harder than intended, "I'm growing tired of pretending. When I see you in the halls, I want to come up to you and hold your hand, I want to push you against a wall a snog you until you can't see straight. I want to be able to study with you in the library without getting weird looks." He laughed in spite of his romantic words, running a hand through his hair. "I may sound like some tacky, gag-worthy romantic prat right now, but it's true. I want you, I want to be with you, and I don't want us to be afraid of a few people's reactions."
"It's the whole school," she said. "I…I just don't…"
"You've been at the center of the school gossip since you were friends with Harry," Blaise interjected. "It's understandable that you want to stay out of the spotlight as much as possible, but you're forgetting one thing. You're Hermione Granger, one third of the 'Golden Trio' that helped defeat Voldemort. You will always be in the spotlight, and, whether you have the whole world watching you or just a few friends, you will always have people criticizing what you do or don't do. You need to realize that. Luna and I keep our relationship quiet because we are quiet; people don't really notice the things we do, we're good at blending into the background when we must. You…you can't. It would be utterly impossible for you two to forever remain out of the spotlight so you're going to have to bite the bullet and deal with it."
Luna nodded, moving closer to her lover. "Blaise is right, Hermione. If you can't deal with it now, what's to say you'll be able to deal with it in the future." She sat forward, perhaps trying to diminish the space between herself and the other girl, as though moving to comfort and teach. "You have to stop worrying about what everyone else says about you and live your life the way you want to live it."
The brunette's cheeks flushed in mixed embarrassment and minor irritation. "This feels a bit like a planned intervention," she ground out, ready to get angry the moment someone nodded or the gave slightest sign that it was exactly that. She didn't need people coming together to tell her how to live her life, and she most certainly didn't want to hear that Draco had gone to others to convince her to open up to the world about their relationship. She thought he understood, she thought he knew and acknowledged that she wanted to wait until she felt comfortable enough, and if he had done something like this, she was not going to be very happy, for lack of a better word.
"Oh, it's not," Luna said softly, voice wafting on an imaginary breeze." Blaise brought up the topic at random, I believe. I just like to talk to you." Her smile was genuine and always fey-like, and Hermione couldn't help but feel soothed.
"They just want to give their advice, whether it's asked for or not," Draco said after a moment's silence. His grip had tightened slightly around her hand; maybe he had thought that this had been a planned intervention by the couple, too. Guilt slid through as she considered that maybe he had been insulted at her insinuation and she lowered her eyes, looking down to her lap.
"Well," she began, still looking down, "I…I don't know if I'm ready yet."
"Ready for what? Ready to love him in public or ready to deal with what everyone else has to say?" Blaise always had such a lovely way of cutting straight to the point without worrying about the other parties listening in. It wasn't that he didn't care, he preferred being honest rather than dancing around the subject for hours.
She glanced up briefly at the man before looking back down. She tucked her lower lip into her mouth, gnawing on it unconsciously as she considered his words; they were genuinely trying to help and she couldn't just ignore them or respond without thought. She had to take into consideration, had to think them over and justify her response.
It was true, she thought; she was afraid of the reaction of her peers. She had grown up with them, lived with the students through very pivotal moments of her life, and had always felt the limelight on her in some way or another. For the most part, she had been able to ignore the rumours; the majority of them had been false and it had been much easier to hold her head high and trudge on through. She had always been able to pour her attention into school work, to drown her frustration and pain in essay after essay and not worry. But now…this wasn't just some rumour about her being Harry's fling or some Hogwarts wench going from one Triwizard Champion to the next. This was about something very real that meant everything to her.
The question was, would she be able to withstand the boring eyes and whispered rumours like she used to? She thought of herself as stronger since the war, someone who would be able to fight back and endure whatever was thrown at her. But now, her heart was on the line. Not just hers, but Draco's, and she didn't want anyone judging and scrutinizing her relationship.
Blaise was right, however. She was Hermione Granger, the 'brains' of the Golden Trio, and he was Draco Malfoy, betrayer of Voldemort and son of a wealthy, albeit evil, man. They would always find themselves in the spotlight in some way or another; they would never be able to fully avoid it unless they became hermits on some desolate island in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. They would have to face the people and their peers sooner or later.
Lifting a hand and rubbing her face, she heaved a sigh, blocking out the conservation between the other three. They were discussing something about flying lions or something…she didn't really care. She had to figure this out; Draco was waiting on her. She furrowed her brows in guilt; Draco was waiting on her to be able to tell the world. She was the one holding him back, her and her fear of what everyone else would say. He didn't care, didn't give a bloody damn about what they could say. All that mattered to him was that they loved each other.
Closing her eyes, she softly breathed out, still trying to figure things out. She wanted to come out, wanted to tell the world how she felt, but she was still terrified. It wasn't even a matter of her friends anymore; the closest ones knew, with the exception of Ron. But, well, he didn't really count as a friend anymore and she knew he would lose it, sane or not. He had always had a relatively volatile temper where Draco was concerned. But Harry knew and he was supportive, Ginny knew and, in spite of her dislike for Draco, she would support Hermione's decision. Luna and Blaise, too, were strong allies and good friends, ready and willing to back her and Draco.
They were who mattered, her close friends, those who cared deeply about her, those who were willing to support her no matter what. And if someone she had considered a friend beforehand turned their back on her, then they weren't the friend she had thought they'd been.
She smiled in spite of herself, in spite of the growing stress and knotting in her back. Really, who cares what the others had to say? Once she thought about it, once she considered everything, all that mattered was that she and Draco were in love, right? It didn't matter if the Hufflepuffs spread rumours or the Ravenclaws jeered, and who cared if the Slytherins hissed and booed while the Gryffindors looked in confused disgust. All that mattered was that her friends had her back and she was with Draco.
Besides, it would be far easier to come out in the open; they wouldn't have to hide in alcoves to just talk to each other, she would no longer be forced to sit on the other side of the classroom and watch him in her peripheral vision. She, too, wanted to hold his hand in public, she, deep down, didn't want to be afraid to hug him or give him a quick kiss in front of her peers. They loved each other and that was all that mattered.
"I think," she spoke up suddenly, "that Saturday would be a perfect time."
The conversation stopped as all eyes fell on her and she blushed darkly, looking back down to her lap. She hated it when everyone stared at her like that; it was incredibly uncomfortable to see the looks of perplexity in their eyes.
Suddenly, warm arms were wrapped tightly around her and she felt instantaneously comforted. Burrowing her head into his chest, Draco leaned down and pressed a kiss on her head. "Hermione, are you sure? You're not doing this just because I want it?"
"No," she answered, voice muffled by his chest. Squirming, she pinched his side and escaped from his tight grip. "Dear Circe, Draco, did you have to squeeze so hard?" she breathed, rubbing her neck. He sent her an apologetic look and she returned it with a glare. "Bloody hell," she muttered. "Yes, I'm doing this because I want to do it. I did some thinking," Luna sent her a look telling her that they knew, "and I came to the conclusion that I would rather come out in the open about our relationship rather than hide it. Who cares what everyone else says? All that matters is, well…." she blushed darkly, unconsciously reaching out and clinging onto Draco's shirt, "that I love you…"
Luna smiled gently as Blaise grinned, squeezing his lover's hand as they watched the couple across from them.
Draco looked down at Hermione, unable to his the happy disbelief on his face. "Are you sure? I know that you wanted to wait, and I don't want you to think we're pressuring you…"
"Since when has Draco Malfoy hesitated when he was getting what he wants?" she teased.
"Since I love you," he murmured, lowering his head to press a chaste kiss to her lips.
Her cheeks darkened as she pressed her lips back, embarrassed and pleased, unable to hide her smile when they pulled apart. "I…I love you too," she replied.
"So," he said, ruffling her hair, knowing it would diffuse any discomfort and irritate her beyond belief, "now that you've agreed to do everything I want, can we try that…?"
"Not if you life depended on it," she interjected, squeezing his kneecap in just the right spot that made his leg jerk.
"You're no fun," he muttered.
Luna giggled and got up, flitting around the room, almost dancing to the mantle as she moved to look at a box placed on it. "So, what is your plan?"
"My plan?"
"Yes," she continued, picking up the container and looking it over, "what will you do?"
Hermione shrugged, dimly wondering what Luna was looking at. "I think I was just going to run up to him after the game and hug him or something…"
"No, you need something more…momentous. You should rip off your clothes, run stark naked to him, and shag him on the pitch."
"Luna!"
She giggled at the other three, opening the box. "It was just an idea."
"I do like the idea of you running up to him," Blaise said, distracting the couple from his girlfriend's actions.
"I could always give you a give kiss," Hermione said, glancing at Draco. "It would be very romantic and I know you love romance."
"Draco...the romantic one? Now how come I have a hard time believing that?" Blaise laughed.
"Because she hates romance," Draco answered, draping his arm back over Hermione's shoulders.
"I find it unbelievably corny," Hermione muttered, ready to dig her elbow into his side if need be.
Blaise grinned, adjusting his position on the transfigured couch. "I suppose you do have a point, but romance can be nice from time to time, too."
"Yes, and Tricorns can be very effective at creating romantic atmospheres," Luna piped up, digging her hand into the box.
"Luna, what are you doing?"
She turned to look at Hermione, smiling like a pleased Cheshire cat. "I found this box of Rainbow Powder and I want to see what the green one looks like," she answered, reaching down to toss a handful of it into the fire.
"Luna! No!"
"You look very lovely today, Hermione."
"Thank you Luna."
"I quite like how your scarf matches your fireplace."
"Thank you again, Luna, especially for dumping so much of that bloody stuff into our fire."
"How was I supposed to know that you're only supposed to use a pinch?"
"Since you spent ten minutes reading the box before grabbing a nice handful and throwing it in?"
"Oh, right…"
Sighing heavily, Hermione shook her head as they walked down the corridor, wondering if Luna had done it on purpose.
"Well, I thought it would be very erotic to bring him back to your room and have a hot shagging session on the couch with everything glowing a lovely green."
She knew it.
"Luna," she breathed, rubbing her forehead is something close to comic exasperation. "Don't touch the the Rainbow Powder ever again, please."
The blonde merely laughed as they continued to walk through the halls, mischievousness glinting in her eyes. She had done it on purpose, had, for the strangest reason, hoped that it would somehow make Hermione and Draco want to shag senselessly on the rug. The only thing it did was raise her blood pressure and cause Draco to rant and rave for a hour that morning. Not a pleasant reaction.
"So, do you have your plan all prepared?"
Adjusting her scarf, which she knew Harry would not be pleased to see the colour of – green -, she waited until they reached the bottom of the stairs before replying, having passed a couple of eager Hufflepuffs on the way. "Yes, it is all prepared."
"Will you be in your starkers?"
Hermione rolled her eyes and sent glares at a group of Ravenclaws who gaped at Luna and Hermione after hearing the words. "No, Luna, and you have got to stop thinking about sex," she sighed. "I know what I'm going to do and how I will do it, so just stop your worrying and everything will be okay."
Luna nodded but looked somewhat disbelieving when Hermione asked her to stop worrying. Hermione knew that the disbelief made sense; she couldn't stop fidgeting whenever they stopped walking and kept finding a way to tuck her lower lip into her mouth to chew on it. She was nervous.
It was a mere twenty minutes before the game when they arrived at the Quidditch Pitch and took their spots in a crowd of Hufflepuffs, an area where she felt she could be reasonably neutral and cheer equally for both teams. Since the end of the war, the rivalry between Slytherin and Gryffindor had not been as pronounced and the Quidditch games were significantly less violent. It still didn't mean a Gryffindor wouldn't glare at her if they caught sight of her wearing any article of green.
She didn't know why, but she felt nervous for the first time watching Quidditch. She always knew that the brooms were incredibly dangerous and absolutely abhorred riding them, but it felt more pronounced now that her heart was more involved. In the past, she knew that Harry would pull through; he was strong and a very adept Quidditch player. But she had never really watched Draco and had no idea how well he handled the broom. In the past, he had seemed merely haughty, someone who relied on a good broom to do well. Now, however, she knew how hard he practiced and how much it meant to him. All of those days spending hours on the pitch, either with his team or alone, coming back sweaty, dirty, and exhausted, some days crashing on the couch because he was too tired to make it to the shower.
She knew that if Draco didn't do well scholarly, Quidditch would be his life. He loved the sport and worked hard to be reasonably good at it. She just never noticed it up until now.
As she watched, hands clenching tightly onto the railing in front of her, she was torn between awe and terror as she watched Draco fly gracefully around the pitch. His eyes were piercing, even from afar, darting fervently around, searching for the Snitch. A part of her, deep down, really wanted him to win. Not just because he was her lover, but because he had spent all of these years being put down and defeated by Harry in a sport he poured his heart and soul into. Those defeats must have been hard, she had realized. Although, she had heard him once talking with Blaise about how Harry was truly one of the best and even though they didn't get along, he respected Harry for being a good, strong Quidditch player and a powerful opponent. But, in spite of that, she knew that there was a pain in him caused by all of these defeats.
She wanted him to win because he deserved it; he worked his arse off weekly and although Slytherin beat Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, Gryffindor remained their forever undefeated opponent.
The Gryffindor in her felt slightly ashamed; she should be cheering for her House, not it's long-standing rival, but she couldn't help it. She wanted Draco to win.
Luna stood beside her, cheering and jumping happily, wearing a lion-head hood with a large cobra-scarf wrapped around her neck. Always the odd fashion statements, but it's what made Luna, Luna.
Blaise stood on the other side of Luna, dressed less creatively as Luna, showing his Slytherin pride by merely wearing the colours for his team. He was surprisingly very vocal, even more so than Luna, screaming and cursing loudly whenever a foul happened and nothing was done about it. Hermione found him to be quite the fascinating spectator, especially when he nearly lost it at one point when it seemed like Madame Hooch was about to ignore a very obvious foul a Gryffindor Beater had made on one of Slytherin's Chasers.
Smiling in spite of her nerves, she continued to watch the game, pleased yet anxious that the score was incredibly close, Slytherin leading by two goals. Ron, she had noted, seemed somewhat on his game, yet a bit off. She could only assume it was due to his current mental state, but he had smiled and waved to her when he had flown onto the field, not once glaring at her choice of scarf. This pleased her; she saw the removal of the fog from his eyes, knew that he was seeing with more clarity now that he had been a month ago. Even though she wasn't ready to go back to being his friend just yet, it was good to see that he was doing better.
Harry and Ginny had waved too and Harry had sent her a knowing look when he saw her scarf. She had had to blush and had pointed to her red and gold hat, something Mrs. Weasley had knitted for her as a back-to-school gift.
Now, she stood in anxiety, wishing that the game could just end so she could get the plan done and over with.
The game was quick, each goal scored in relative succession, Ginny being the lead scorer for Gryffindor, in spite of Slytherin's very skilled Keeper's work. Soon enough, the stadium roared with excitement as Harry and Draco began speeding through the air in the epic chase for the Snitch.
She wanted to squeeze her eyes shut, couldn't watch as they darted up and down, swerving in and around players, making their way through the pitch as they chased after the Snitch. Her heart fluttered wildly in her chest, palms sweating as she felt her back muscles contract with anxiety.
Please…just let Draco catch the Snitch…just once. They didn't have to win the Quidditch cup, she didn't care about that, she just wanted Draco to beat Harry just once. He was always second best to him, always the rival, the one who would ultimately lose to let the hero win.
She wanted the rival to win for once. Let him feel the glory, let him feel the joy of knowing he had bested his strongest opponent…
Their arms outstretched, bodies taut as they reached forward in tandem, chasing after the invisible ball.
Her eyes squeezed shut as they shot down to the ground at an unbelievable speed, no longer able to watch for fear that her heart just might give out.
Suddenly, silence. Every voice died simultaneously in the stadium, and she began to fear the worst. Somebody crashed, someone got hurt…
"No bloody way…"
Voices rose like a crashing wave, screams, shouts of jubilation mixed with shock and disbelief. People jeered and cheered, feet stomped loudly against the wooden floors as excitement raced back through the crowd.
"Hermione! Hermione! Open your eyes!"
Turning to Luna, she let her eyes open and found her friend grinning broadly at her. "Look!" Luna squealed in such an uncharacteristic fashion that she couldn't help but look to where Luna pointed.
"No fucking way," she cursed, eyes widening at the sight before her.
Draco was covered in dirt, he was sweaty, panting, but grinning like it was the best day of his life. Harry stood to the side, equally dirty, looking torn between anger and acknowledging what had happened.
In Draco's hands, glinting gently in the sun, was the Snitch.
For the first time in her life, Hermione actually screamed in joy at a Quidditch game.
She found herself pushing her way through the crowd, stumbling rapidly down the stairs as she made her way towards the pitch, squeezing between masses, wanting to get to the love of her life and make his day even better.
This…this excitement, this unadulterated joy, it made everything so much better. She saw in bright, vivid colours, the crowd swirled around her and all she saw was his grinning face. Never before in her life had she ever seen him look so happy.
Maybe wishing did get you somewhere sometimes.
She knew it had to be cliché or extremely corny, knew that things fit a bit too perfectly, but she couldn't help it. This is exactly what he had wanted; he may have said that it didn't matter whether they won or lost, but she knew it meant the world to him to win this game.
It may be the only time they ever win, she thought as she pushed onto the pitch and around the growing crowd, but it didn't matter. Draco had shown, for the first time since he started playing for Slytherin, that he was just as capable at Quidditch as Harry.
She ran past both teams, not seeing the Gryffindor team huddled together, drowning in their sorrow of having lost. She only saw the man who stood before her, surrounded by half of his team.
"Draco!"
He spun around and she found herself flying in the air, arms outspread, and the feeling was incredible as his arms wrapped tightly around her body, clinging her to him.
He grinned at her, face dirty as hell, and she didn't care whether her clothes got dirty from the mud on him. She didn't care that he smelled sweaty, nothing mattered except that he held her in his arms and she loved him.
"Good game, Draco," she murmured, lowering her lips to his in a passionate kiss.
The second his lips met hers, the whole world ceased to exist. She didn't care that the stadium fell quiet once more and it didn't matter that suddenly all eyes fell on her and Draco. Nothing mattered except for the feeling fluttering away in her heart, the sensation of raw love coursing through her veins, starting from where their lips met and flowing through her whole body. All that mattered was him and the feelings he created within her.
It sounded like an explosion; the second his tongue darted into to meet hers, twining erotically, something exploded in the background. Voices rose, shouting in more incredulity and shock than before, arguing and debating loudly. It didn't matter. At this moment in time, she truly understood what they had meant the other day. It didn't matter what the crowd said, didn't matter how the peers reacted, all that mattered to her was the man she held.
When they broke apart, she reached down and pressed her forehead against, unable to stop herself from smiling.
"I'm glad you won," she said, still ignoring the raging crowds.
"This is the best bloody day of my life," he admitted quietly, adjusting to let her feet reach the ground as she moved to stand. "Much better than the first time we…"
She cut him off with a elbow to the ribs and he grunted in pain. "I can now do that to you in public," she half-teased and half-threatened.
"You are a very cruel woman."
"Oh sod off."
It was at this moment that her ears caught the sound of a telltale whoosh and she reacted without thinking, jumping forward and shoving Draco to the ground, landing on top of him as a nearby spot on the pitch exploded in mud, grass and rocks.
Shaking off the debris, she was on her feet in moments, training and experience getting her wand out in seconds, her body ready and poised to fight back in even less time. Spare no second, do not waste a single movement; get up, wand out, and be ready to fight back whoever it is that attacked you.
Draco was beside her, movements in tandem with hers, as though they performed an age old dance, as though they had trained and fought together for years and knew one another's movements by heart.
What she was not expecting, however, was to see Ron standing a few feet away, face contorted with uncontrollable rage. Harry was pushing through the crowd in the background, trying to make his way over to his friend and drag the man back. Students, however, stood still in awe, unable to believe that such an event had just taken place.
"Ron!" she screamed. "What the bloody hell is wrong with you?"
His hand shook, wand jerking violently in his grip, and his face became ugly in all of its fury. "You…You fucking bitch! You lied to me, all of this time you bloody well lied to me! You said you weren't ready, you said you didn't care about Malfoy, and you fucking lied!"
A few weeks of work had disappeared instantaneously, the strength fading behind the veil of distorted reality that had become Ron's new home in the past few months.
"What do we do?"
She admired Draco for his words; he knew that, in spite of everything that had happened, she still cared deep down about Ron. He didn't want to do something that might seriously injure the redhead, nor did he want to let Ron just hurt them.
"Block and subdue, just like those missions when we were trying to capture Death Eaters for information," she answered mechanically. Ron, unfortunately, was an enemy now. She knew no words would reach his fogged mind, knew that nothing she did or say would be able to stop him from doing something he would regret. They would have to just stop him the only way they knew would work.
Her grip tightened on her wand as Ron shouted, sending out another curse in their direction.
It was a sad day when one had to fight their friend because of a kiss.
There we go!
I will admit, I don't very much care for the middle section, the conversation between Blaise-Luna-Hermione-Draco. I don't know why, but I don't like it, and may find the time to go back and change it a bit.
I however liked the rest of it, so I hope that you did. Let me know! I'm going to try to get the next chapter up soon, but I can't make any promises, because my huge essay is due next Tuesday and I have a LOT of work to do on it (it's a minimum of 10 pages with loads of research required). Fortunately, school is over soon so I can write more during the break.
Sorry again for the wait everyone. I also wish all American readers an early Happy Thanksgiving! Enjoy your weekend and don't eat TOO much (eat just enough to feel a bit fat after, haha).
So, enjoy your weekend, have fun while I stress like crazy, and I'll do my best to get the next chapter up ASAP. (I still also want to rewrite the middle section..urgh. But I can't keep you guys waiting for any longer; I feel horrible!)
Thanks for reading and take care!
Emerald-Kisses