8. The Ugly Truth

A/N: I'm sorry for my delay in updating! I hope that all of you who celebrated Memorial Day had a terrific holiday! Thank you so much to all of those who took their time to review this story! I was reading them and smiling so wide—you are all absolutely lovely! Also, once again, this is completely OOC, and I don't own HP.

My eyes flutter open and I immediately toss my blankets onto the floor beside my small bed. This is it—the morning that my mother will finally explain our plan for the coming years. I fling my bedroom door open, turning one last time before exiting the room to stare at the chipped and faded photograph on my dresser top. Its face is to the wall, but I don't need to see the three faintly moving figures to remember what they look like. Even if Mother decides to return to my father's vindictive grasp, I know that we will never be that same complete family again.

I hurry to the bathroom for a hot shower, making sure to put on a little extra cologne for my possible farewell to Hermione Granger.

My mother is waiting for me, sitting stiffly on one of the kitchen bar-stools with a cup of cold tea clasped between her trembling hands. She looks up as I enter, her lank blonde hair stirring slightly as she sniffs. "Draco. Sit down, will you?" I nod, slumping onto a stool beside her and gazing into her red-rimmed eyes. "What I'm about to tell you… well, it might be hard for you to understand. Just know that I love you darling, and these choices that I'm making are for your own good!"

I frown, running through the countless woeful decisions that Mum might be about to bring to my ears. "I know, I know. Please, just tell me!" I half snap, half beg.

She purses her lips, looking over-wrought and despondent. "I'm going back." She says finally.

I nod slowly—I had been expecting news along these lines. "No, Mum, we can find another way! You know that if we go back, he'll just kill us!"

Mother smiles tensely, and I find myself unable to tear my gaze from the purple-grey bruises beneath her blue eyes. "That's the thing, Draco. You're not going back. I am. Now, your Auntie Andromeda will-"

"No." I slam my fists on the countertop, causing her to start slightly in terror. "No, no, no!" I bring my hands down forcefully to enforce each slow word of refusal. "We are not going to be separated—I will not allow it! You may be my mother, but I'm also responsible for my own actions, and I say that if you go, I go too."

To my surprise, Mother bursts into tears, burying her pale face in her hands and sobbing like the world is over. "I- I'm such a t-t-terrible m-mother! I've f-failed you—I've failed y-y-you! There's n-no other way, d-don't you s-see?"

"You haven't failed me! I've told you before and I'll tell you again—you're all I have, and I love you!" I say loudly, slipping from my seat and beginning to pace instinctively before the bar. "There is another way, I'm sure of it. What about…what about… court? That's it!" I snap my fingers, feeling a sudden rush of confidence. "Ha-ha! Yes! We can take Lucius Malfoy to court. He'll never get away with the things that he's done to us once the Ministry gets involved!"

"Draco." My mother looks up, her words soft and her eyes brimming. "Draco, that won't work. In accordance with Wizard law, the wife and under-aged children are considered the legal property of the wizard. No matter what we tell the Wizengamot, the fact remains that I am still the lawfully wed wife of your father, and therefore he has a right to do as he pleases."

"That's just not fair!" I complain, halting in my tireless cycle to stare at her. "I just— that simply isn't moral. How can it be?"

Mother shakes her head slowly. "Life isn't very moral, Draco. It's time you understand that."

Well, I'm not stupid. Of course I know that life isn't moral! I'm Draco Malfoy—or Black—I'm a pretty darned nasty person. I had hoped, at least, that the Wizengamot and the laws that govern the British Wizarding world would encourage justice, not slavery and abuse. "Yes Mother." I say sullenly, turning from her to heat water for my tea. "Well, we'll both go back then."

"Don't you see? If you return with me, then you'll be dooming yourself to immeasurable pain and a dead childhood. I don't want that for you! You're my only son, and I pray every day and night for your happiness and safety. If you only went to stay with your Aunt-"

"I'm going with you." I say firmly, jerking the cupboard door open and retrieving a mug.

Mother groans, starting a fresh round of tears and sniffles. "I- I s-suppose that its up- up to y-you."

I sigh, understanding her internal anguish as if it was my own. In my heart, I realize that a life on the run from my father simply isn't plausible. One small thwarting from his rouge wife, child, and the filthy mudblood neighbor-girl is hardly going to deter him from finding his prize. Perhaps if we return voluntarily and decide to submit, he might have a bit more mercy than he will if he hunts us down himself. "Yeah. I'm coming with you. We're going to figure this out together, and this time, I promise you that I'll protect you."

Mother stumbles from her stool, giving me a very soggy hug and wiping her eyes on her pajama sleeve. "You go say goodbye to Hermione. We'll take the Knight Bus to the Leaky Cauldron and then use the Floo from there tonight. I'll—I'll send an owl to your father… and then I need to get some shut-eye. I didn't sleep a wink last night." She snuffles again, walking slowly to the hallway before turning back to give me a weak smile. "Thank you Draco. Oh, and for my sake at least, give Hermione what she deserves."

I nod, watching her slim figure retreat into the shadows. I set my neglected mug on the countertop and run my fingers through my hair quickly. It only takes a few moments to walk to Hermione's front door, but I want it to last much, much longer. I want every second that I have left in this London paradise to last forever—and I dread breaking the news to the girl next door.

I swallow, take a deep breath, and knock on the Grangers' cream colored door. It swings open, and I find myself gazing down into Hermione's beautiful dark face split into a toothy white grin. "Hey, Draco! I guess this means that you're staying then—right?"

I sigh, looking down and scuffing at the paved step in awkward grief. "No, Hermione, it doesn't." My eyes are closed so that I don't have to see her face fall.

"Well, come on then." She seizes my hand, hurrying past me with her long brown hair bouncing. "If this is my last day with you before term starts, then we're going to spend it together. Let's go on a bike ride to the park—it's cloudy today, there won't be anyone there!"

My breath hitches in my dry throat. I don't have the heart to tell her that I probably will never see her again. Father won't let me return to Hogwarts, I'd bet my Nimbus 2001. "There's nothing I'd rather do." I say quietly, mounting Myranda Granger's sliver bike and pumping fast to catch up with Hermione, who seems to be trying to avoid conversation or contact. Typically it's me who is uncomfortable when we're together—she seems inhibited most of the time. Even after telling me that she might have feelings of some sort for me last night, she carried on like nothing had ever happened. We had dinner and cake and played games without broaching the topic again, though I was nearly dying of desire by the time that the evening was over.

She dumps her white bike carelessly on the wood-chips bordering the neighborhood playground, and I follow her to a seat on the swings. Hermione keeps her dark eyes focused on the road ahead, swaying slightly in the rather unseasonal cold breeze. She looks prettier than ever in her usual white. "Draco?" She turns to me quite suddenly, tears shining in her large brown eyes and a frown on her freckled forehead.

"Yeah?" I raise my eyes, feeling helpless and shallow under her deep gaze. "Is something wrong, 'Mione?"

"Kiss me."

I blink. I've never kissed a girl before, and I figured that the moment would be a bit more, well, expected. "You really want me too? I- I mean, H-Hermione-" She leans forward, the chains of her swing clinking in the breeze as I mirror her motion. I close my eyes as our lips touch, surprised at the sweetness of her mouth as I wrap my arms around her waist.

The kiss isn't long, nor is it overly deep, but it's enough. Hermione's brown eyes shine with dark desire as we pull apart, and I brush a wisp of her curly hair from her cheek, wondering if I did alright. "Thank you, Draco." She whispers, smoothing out her sweater and reaching for my hand. "I love you."

"I love you too, Hermione." I feel stupid saying that—if only my mouth could form something more poetic!

We sit for the longest time, hand in hand as the sky begins to darken. There isn't any need to speak; we're both too consumed with our thoughts. I'm wrung out with grief and that heavenly feeling that Hermione always manages to give me. She really does fancy me—she loves me! "We should get going." I say shortly, rising to my feet and releasing my grip on her soft hand.

Before I know what's happening, her arms are around me. She holds me tightly, sobbing onto my chest as I rub her back. "I-I c-can't lose you!" She stumbles, wiping tears from her dark cheeks and gazing soulfully up into my eyes.

I suddenly know that she understands. She won't be seeing me again, and she is fully aware of that fact. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry—I love you, I never want to leave you, Hermione!"

Hermione reaches into her jeans' pocket and digs out a rather creased slip of paper. "You'll never forget me, will you? Here, this way you'll never have to lose me entirely—I'll always be with you, I promise!" I unfold the paper slowly, smiling at the simple photograph of her joy filled face. It doesn't move, and in a way I'm glad of that. This picture represents everything that Hermione Granger is—Muggle upbringing and all.

"You're the most beautiful girl in the world. Thank you… I'll keep this until the day I die; I'll never let it go! I only wish that I had something to give you too." I rack my brains for a moment, trying desperately to think of some keep sake for her to remember me by.

"It's okay. I see you every time I close my eyes, and I have a feeling that that won't stop with your absence." She bows her head, and we walk slowly back to our bicycles. The ride home seems shorter than ever, and before I know it, I'm back at my doorstep being greeted by my distraught mother.

She's already packed my things, and starts to drag our luggage to the roadside while Hermione and I take our few final moments together. We stand hand-in-hand, and after a few moments she rises to her tiptoes, lifting her face close to mine.

I tighten my grip on her as we kiss, wishing that this moment would last for the rest of eternity, and that I would never have to break away from her sweet lips and return to the harsh reality of the surrounding world. I run my fingers through her fluffy curls, surprised as salty water begins to roll down her cheeks, streaking my own as our faces rub. She pulls away, covering her mouth in slight humiliation and blushing as more sobs begin to shake her shoulders. "I- I love you, Draco. I love you so much."

We hug one final time, but the experience is blighted by my own fear and sorrow. My mother's soft hand comes to a rest on my shoulder, and I realize that it's time to leave. "Goodbye, Hermione Granger." I turn from her, feeling hollow and cold. It's almost as if the heart that was finally beginning to beat over my two short weeks with her is freezing over once again.

Mother grips my arms, her chest heaving slightly under the weight of her stoic silence. She pulls her wand from her traveling cloak pocket, and raises it in the air to signal the Knight Bus. I turn one last time to stare at our white house surrounded by rolling green lawns. Our neighbor's door slams as the brown haired girl disappears into the quiet safety of her loving family's arms.

I take a deep breath and reach for my trunk in a desperate grasp for a sense of reality. This is it—time to face the truth of what lies ahead. If I survive, then I guess that I'll be one lucky guy. My free hand finds the tiny photo of Hermione Granger in my pocket, and my fingers curl tightly around it. Lucky, but alone.