A/N: Tadaaaaa! Another chapter! Sorry it's so short, but I'm hoping to have another chapter up by this weekend. *fingers crossed*
The puff of green smoke that preceded Hermione's entry into her flat was so thick that she found it impossible to walk through without bumping an extremity onto some bit of furniture or another. Her attempt to get to the bedroom resulted in several stubbed toes and one nasty bruise to her shin, all adding to the already mounting frustration from her dinner with the Malfoys.
After struggling for several minutes, she gave up on the powder residue clearing of its own accord and cast a spell ridding her apartment of the nuisance. When she could see once more, Hermione began to forcefully remove her dress in a rather unladylike fashion, desperate to get it off. She had been so proud of the beaded emerald gown that had taken she and Jenna so long to find. It was a floor length, form fitting halter top that seemed seamless, aside from a hidden zipper down the left side. It hugged her curves well, and belled out ever so slightly at her knees, giving the allusion that she was floating. At the time of purchase, all she could think about was how wonderful the dress would look, and now, the only thoughts crossing her mind were those of homicide.
The zipper, clearly not budging past the bottom of her rip cage, began to rip at the pressure she was applying to it. Giving up on that too, Hermione threw her shoes of and stomped back to the couch to look for her phone. In times of great joy or stress, her past outlet had been her mother, but given the recent change in the woman's attitude, Hermione decided on Jenna's company instead.
My flat. Ten minutes.
-H
It took Jenna less than five minutes to arrive via floo, during which time Hermione managed to rip the zipper from her dress completely, successfully ending her war with it, and throw on a t-shirt accompanied by an old pair of sweat pants. Jenna came through the fireplace looking much the same, aside from her hair. It was obviously wet from a recent shower and had been thrown into a messy bun on the top of her head. Hermione's hair was still elegantly curled in an up-do, small tendrils hanging here and there. Not one hair had made it out of place, despite her fumbling around. Charms really did do wonders.
"So this evening either went really swell or really awful," Jenna gasped, out of breath from her abrupt journey. "So which is it?"
"It was awful!" Hermione screeched. "He's such a chauvinist pig, it's disgusting!"
Jenna nodded her head, as if she had expected this reaction all along, and walked to the kitchen. She gathered two spoons, took a tub of ice cream from the freezer, and made her way over to the couch where Hermione was already seated.
"'Mione," she began, "you know I love you. I do. But did you honestly expect anything less? He is a damned Malfoy. It's not as though you were marrying a priest. Don't you think we're being a tad over dramatic?" She didn't even wait on Hermione's response before shoving quite a large spoonful of ice cream into her mouth.
"You know what, Jenna? I don't need this from you, too. For the past two hours I've had to make pointless small talk with the Malfoys of all people, and I'm a bit talked out for the evening. So if you don't mind, I'd just like to sit here in silence whilst you eat my ice cream."
Jenna shrugged, and that's just what they did. Hermione, pouting that Draco Malfoy didn't have even the slightest inkling of decency, and Jenna, nonchalantly eating an entire pint of ice cream in one sitting. When she was finished, Jenna made her way back into the kitchen to clean up her mess, and came back with two cups of tea.
"Now, then," she began, "let's talk. I'm sorry I was inconsiderate of your feelings and you're sorry you snapped. Tell me what happened."
That tone of calm understanding was all it took for Hermione to fall into a blubbering heap of snot and tears, crying for all of the wrongs that had been done and for her future that didn't seem so bright after all.
"I feel like all I do is cry lately," Hermione said as she wiped away the last of the salty drops from her face. "It's so unlike me, but I just have no idea how to stop. Between Dad and his cancer, and Malfoy and this marriage, I don't know how I'm ever going to be able to function in society again."
"You'll do just as you've always done, and you'll be greater than you've ever been. You're Hermione Granger for Merlin's sake, you can do anything. I don't mean to negate your father's cancer, but if this were to happen to anyone, at least it's happening to you. The Malfoys have the means to help, and as for the marriage, I really don't think it'll be as bad as you think it is."
"Ha! You only say that because you are in love. For the rest of us, it's harder than it looks."
"You know, you're always so negative when you talk about love. Like it'll never happen for you. Didn't you love Ron once upon a time?"
"Gods," Hermione groaned. "It's not that I didn't love Ron. Truly, I did. Just not in the way a wife would love her husband." And it was true, mostly. When their relationship began, it had been on the cusp of war. Everything was exciting and fresh, and it just felt so nice to be wanted by someone who she'd given her heart to. When the real world hit both of them after Hogwarts, life got much harder. He wanted everything to look like they were in a serious relationship so he pushed and pushed until she moved in. He all but asked her to marry him, without the whole one knee bit, but he was never able to simply be there for her. After a long day of work, she expected to come home to a loving boyfriend and eat dinner, maybe read a book or two, and head to bed. His idea of a fun time was going out, and consequently, he wasn't home often. At the time, neither one of them knew how to be in a functional relationship, and both agreed not to force it. The breakup had gone quite smoothly, as far as breakups go.
"Funny that you say that," Jenna said, tilting her head and poking her lip out, "that bit about knowing what marriage feels like. How exactly would you know what it feels like to love someone like a husband or wife? You've never been married."
Point made.
"I don't know, Jenna," Hermione groaned, putting her head in her hands, "I just know it's not what Ron and I had. We weren't in the same place emotionally."
"Riiiight. And why can't you love Malfoy again?"
Hermione's head shot from its position in her hands and her eyes narrowed. "You canNOT be asking me this. Jenna I've just spent an hour-"
"Stop," her friend interrupted. "Just stop. You're being ridiculous and if you won't see it, I'm going to say it. You refuse to even try to love Malfoy on the precedent that he is the Draco Malfoy. The same one who made fun of you, the same one who ruined your life-"
"THE SAME ONE WHO SIDED WITH VOLDEMORT, ALMOST KILLED DUMBLEDORE, AND STOOD BY WHILE HIS AUNT TORTURED ME IN THEIR DRAWING ROOM!"
"Okay, yes, so he hasn't made the best of choices. But seriously, if you'd just give-"
"I swear to Merlin, Jenna, if you're going to tell me to give him a chance, I might just curse you right here on this-"
"Would you please SHUT UP!" Jenna screamed. "I can't get a word out edgewise without your interjecting! Shit! Anyway, have you ever thought that maybe people deserve second chances? That maybe it's a bit unfair to judge them on a decision they made when they were a teenager? He was a baby, Hermione. He was brainwashed to do as he was told, and he is loyal to a fault."
Hermione was silently watching Jenna. She couldn't be serious. Absentmindedly, Hermione rubbed the spot on her forearm where the scar etched into her skin was still very much visible, always hidden by long sleeves or gloves.
"No, Jenna," Hermione said slowly, obviously trying to contain her anger, "I cannot give him another chance. Too much damage has been done."
"Alright, sounds like a jolly good plan. Oh! Didn't I tell you the wonderful news," Jenna said as she practically vibrated on the couch, "I've just found out some wretchedly old relative has left me with enough money to cover the cost of your father's treatment! Oh," she squinted her eyes and tilted her head in mock confusion, all vibrations coming to a halt, "wait. No that's complete horseshit."
"No need to be sassy. I know I need the money and I don't know how to get it, but I'm sure I'll figure something out. I wouldn't expect you to understand-"
"Hermione Jean Granger, do not tell me what I do and don't understand! I understand perfectly fucking well what it looks like when someone is stubborn, and it looks a helluva lot like you. You called me over her to vent. You want my opinion? You're a stubborn arse, much like your fiancé might I add, and you refuse to get with the times. Draco Malfoy is not a bad person. Has he made bad choices? Yes. Does he torture himself every day for them? Hell yes. So quit bitching, suck it up, and either marry him or don't. But just remember, there will always be a choice. Happiness in itself is a choice, and it is one to be made each and every day. If you marry this man and you are miserable for the rest of your life, it is because of the choices you make. I'm going home, and I'm going to choose to be happy, in spite of the fact that you're choosing to wallow in self-pity. And then when I see you Monday morning, I will pretend none of this ever happened. Good night."
With that, she left. Jenna got up, walked to the fire place, grabbed a handful of floo and went home. Dumbfounded, Hermione sat on her couch and stared at her flooring, wondering whether horrid people deserved second chances. If you want to murder someone so desperately that you almost do, but back out at the last second, does that count as actually committing the crime? And even if you had murdered them, if you had done it for the right reasons, would that make it okay? Was it possible to every be truly and completely sorry for even considering ending another human's life? Hermione's thoughts ended abruptly with Crookshanks jumping into her lap.
"Oh, Crookshanks. This is such a mess. How can she expect me to choose to be happy when I'm married to Satan?" But the cat simply curled in on himself in her lap, and purred contently.
Jenna had her points. It was up to Hermione whether or not she chose to be happy, and maybe some people did deserve second chances. Although, she just couldn't seem to get past his attempted murder, no matter how hard she tried. She really needed to talk to her mother, but a glance at the clock told her it was nearly eleven. A good daughter would have waited until morning.
Two rings later, an exasperated Mrs. Granger answered the phone.
"Hermione? Is everything alright?"
Hermione internally rolled her eyes. "Yes, mother. Everything is fine. I just wanted to talk to you about something.
"You're pregnant," her mother deadpanned.
"Mum! No!"
"Oh," she heard her mother breathe a sigh of relief. "Well, what is it then?"
Always so cheerful, she was.
"I'm not pregnant, but don't freak out that I haven't told you sooner," Hermione began.
"You're seeing someone!" her mother all but shouted.
"...Well, sort of." Technically, not a lie.
"Oh, I've waited for this day for so long! Well, go on. Tell me all about him!" She was entirely too excited for it to be this late in the evening.
"That's what I wanted to talk to you about. We aren't exactly seeing each other, and I can't make up my mind whether or not he's worth it."
"Oh," her mother scoffed, "and you're such a delight to be so choosy. What's the matter with him? And does he have that same horrid red hair as the last one?" She was always such a joy to talk to.
"No, Mum. He's got blonde hair. We use to go to school together when we were little and he teased me endlessly. The thing I'm finding hard to pass over is that he made some horribly dreadful decisions those last few years that we were in school, and I don't know if I'm quite ready to get over it."
"Well, has he gotten over it?"
"I mean...I assume so. He doesn't talk about it much from what I understand but he doesn't seem to be too depressed about it."
"If he's over it, then you've no business still holding him accountable. The mistakes he's made are his to make, not yours to judge. Honestly, Hermione, you can't make everyone miserable forever by reminding them of every little thing they've done to get under your skin. Lord knows I'm tired of it. Is this all you've called me about?"
"Yes, Mum," Hermione sighed. Internally, she knew better than to call her mother. The two had been on the outs ever since Hermione had returned their memories. Her father had continued to love her unconditionally, but her mother felt betrayed that instead of entrusting her with the truth, Hermione had simply wiped her memory away.
"When will I be meeting him?" The question caught Hermione off guard and snapped her away from her thoughts.
"Uh...we aren't actually officially together yet, and I don't want to scare him off by inviting him over too soon. I'll let you know when we've gone public, okay?"
"Oh, Hermoine. Ever the control freak. Yes, okay, tell me when you're ready. Goodnight, dear."
The click of the receiver told Hermione that her mother had hung up. Sighting, she walked back to her room, plugged her phone into its charger and climbed into bed. When had life gotten so complicated? For as long as she could remember, life had never been particularly easy. She had been asked to discontinue several of her primary schools for unexplainable occurrences, and eventually had to be home schooled by a dreaded old woman who slept entirely too much. Receiving her Hogwarts letter was one of the highlights of her life, because for once, someone wanted her.
She'd always felt loved by her parents, but never overly so. The three of them merely existed in their home, no over show of love or affection. Sure, there were times when they went to the movies or went out to eat, but for the most part, Hermione was expected to be an adult from very early on in her childhood. This strained relationship only worsened when her mother had learned her memory had been wiped.
Hermione felt Crookshanks hop up on the bed and curl himself in the crook of her knee. Try as she might, she was unable to keep the nightmares at bay.
xxx
After dinner, Draco had paced around his floor, throwing miscellaneous decorations at any given wall, just to hear them shatter on impact.
Hermione Fucking Granger. What a downright bitch. What right did she have to stroll in his house, claim the only bedroom with access to his library, and then accuse him of being an arse! Her life had always been so goddamned easy. After the war, the entire damned trio got nothing but praise and worship. Ha.
Draco had never forgiven himself for the crimes he committed during the war, but also never talked about them. His chosen vice of therapy was a glass or five of expensive scotch. It wasn't a perfect system, but it was a coping mechanism nonetheless. A bright side to being in a pre-alcoholic stage was his newfound ability to hold his liquor quite well. His mother tsked at him, but she knew better than to question his life choices. Hers, after all, landed her with a lunatic for a husband that almost got his entire family murdered. Good times.
After practically destroying his floor, Draco had gone to bed, only to wake up with a raging hangover that even a potion wouldn't cure. It took the edge off, sure, but the headache and nausea lasted well into midday. When he'd finally gone downstairs to escape the battle zone that was his space, he saw his mother sitting at the dining table.
"Good morning, Draco," Narcissa quipped tightly, sitting still and upright while reading the morning Prophet.
"Good morning, Mother," he said as he walked over to kiss her on the cheek. She did not move.
"You smell like the pig I thought I heard destroying the upstairs last night. Be a good boy and let him go before you go and shower."
"Very funny, Mother," he snapped as he sat down to the lunch before him. He looked down to see a salad and a cup of tea already set in front of him.
"Have you apologized to that poor girl yet? She seemed rather angry when she left last night."
"No, I haven't, and I'm not going to. If she wants out, so be it. I'm not that desperate for a wife, you know.
"Oh?" She asked in feign interest. "I must have missed the line of witches at our door."
"No need to be facetious, Mother. I only meant that there are plenty of other women I can marry on short notice."
"No, Draco," she exhaled, putting the Prophet down and looking sternly into his eyes, "you cannot. Your father has already spoken with the families of your three choices, and you may not marry outside that circle. Well, you could, but we would have to disown you love, and that would make Mummy sad. So please be a dear, and apologize to her. Do whatever you must to get back in her good graces. Also, don't forget that tomorrow you are to go in with your father to work. He wishes to set you up in your office before all of these wedding shenanigans begin."
"Yes, Mother."
"That's a good lad," she smiled. Narcissa rose from her chair, patted Draco on the head, and made her way to the garden.
He really fucking hated when she used pet names.
A/N: Your reviews are so fantastic! They really are inspiring, especially for a new writer. If I don't post again by Friday, Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukah, Happy Kwanza, and any other holiday you may celebrate this season!