Chapter 8

Her phone was buzzing again. It was him. Of course it was him. No one else had this number. Hermione pushed it off the table with her feet. It fell dramatically to the floor, hitting a corner and flipping over. Why did everything with him have to be so dramatic.

"You can't ignore him forever," Owen scolded.

"I can try."

"And how is that working out?"

She chuckled, "Just fine, but I don't want to talk about that."

Owen nodded, "Let's talk about the show tomorrow."

She got up and headed towards the fridge, "Want a drink?"

"Water is fine."

Hermione handed him a bottle and sat back down, "I made a set list. I think I might sing some oldies."

He raised an eyebrow, "Feeling nostalgic?"

She threw a pillow at him. It was true though. Most of her early work had been sad love songs: songs about pain and regret.

"Feeling bitter," she replied.

Owen wrapped his arm around her, "I find that writing my feelings on paper helps."

She laid her head against his shoulders, "New music," she shrugged, "...I don't know if I have any feelings left."

He pulled her close, "Even bitterness is a feeling."

She closed her eyes and nodded.

"Tell me what your thinking about," Owen whispered.

She sighed deeply, "What if I said that I didn't want to do this anymore?"

"Which part?"

She took a deep breath, "Every part, but mostly the singing part?"

He stroked her hair, "It's your voice, Hermione. It's your choice. I was only ever along for the ride."

She smiled, "You were...are so much more than that. I don't know how you put up with me for so long."

He chuckled, "I got paid very well."

They both laughed.

/

Huang looked at his daughter. She had grown into a beautiful woman, but he could still see her twirling around in her new dress, on her fifth birthday. He remembered the first signs of magic when she accidently lit the carpet on fire. He remembered how big her eyes were when she got her first wand. She was 11 years old. Time had gone by so fast and now she was a woman. An engaged woman. No, she wasn't his little girl anymore.

He wondered what his wife would have thought of their daughter now. Would she have approved of Draco? He knew Draco didn't love Sapna, but he hoped that would change. After all, his and his wife's had been an arranged marriage and that worked out beautifully. He could still remember the first time they met. He remembered thinking she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen and now Sapna was the spitting image of her.

Draco had also been a product of an arranged marriage. He knew that the Malfoy's marriage had not been as happy as his, but they did seem to love each other. Yes, he remembered meeting the Malfoys. Lucius was a proud and ignorant man, whereas, Narcissa was the ever obedient wife. He didn't wish that kind of marriage on his daughter. He wished her the kind he had, filled with laughter and happiness.

"Sapna."

She looked up from magically changing the color of her nails, they had been at least 10 colors now, "Yes daddy?"

He sat down next her, "Are you happy?"

She smiled at him, "Of course, daddy."

He took her hand, "Nana, you aren't just saying that, are you?"

She squeezed his hand, "I am happy daddy."

He returned the gesture, "I know things have been different since your mom-," he cleared his throat, "well, for a while now. It's just that, I just want you to be happy."

"Don't worry about me. I am happy daddy."

He nodded, "How are you and Draco?"

She hid her disdain, "We're fine."

"Nana, I know that I forced this on you. I mean, you don't have to-"

Her mind drifted to her mother, she had been gone seven years now. Seven years, today. She knew that was why he was attempting this heart to heart with her. He did this every year. Her death had been an accident. A terrible accident, but Sapna was still angry. He wanted her to find forgiviness and let go, but she couldn't.

He sighed, "I just want you to be taken care of. I won't be here forever."

She stood, "No daddy! We aren't talking about this again!"

/

It was the night before the concert and she was wide awake. Sleep always alluded her before a show. She'd been performing for years, in hundreds of arenas, but she still got nervous before every show. The night before was always the worst. Every possible scenario would play out in her mind. What if someone recognized her? What if she got on stage and forgot how to sing? Or the lyrics to her songs? How was the crowd going to take her retirement announcement? Was she really retiring? Wasn't retirement something old people did? She was barely 25.

She couldn't think anymore. She got up and walked to the fridge, a beer would clear her mind. She popped open the metal cap and took a big gulp. "Stop thinking Hermione. Everything will be fine." Leaning against the fridge, she took another gulp.

A green flash brought her out of her daze. Hermione grabbed her wand out of the kitchen drawer. "Nox." Slowly she walked towards the flashing. Her phone laid face down on the floor. She picked it up and turned it over.

New Voicemail

"Great," she huffed. Did she really need this on top of show anxiety? It was probably just another, get to know each other, voice mail. She didn't want to get to know him. She already knew more than she wanted to. She should just erase it and go back to sleep, but she knew sleep wasn't coming. Not for awhile anyways. Oh what the hell, what could it hurt-

"Listen here Ella, I may not love my fiancee, but I know what love is. It's getting your heart ripped out and fucking spat on. It's seeing her stupid face everywhere. It's hearing her stupid voice in my head all day...It's dreaming about her every night. It's her stupid eyes and her stupid lips. She's so stupid. Everything about her is stupid. Love is stupid."

Stunned, she sat there with the phone still attached to her ear. Was he drunk? He was slurring. Did he drunk dial her? Wait- what did he say? He knew what love was? So he had been in love. After they broke up? Wait- what? She listened to it again. Then again. And to be sure she got every word, one more time.

He had been in love? He met someone after she left? Maybe even before. That's why he couldn't return her feelings, they had already been given to someone else. Her hands begin to shake. Before she knew what she was doing-

"Hello-"

"Mr Malfoy...Oh wait, Draco. You slimy bastard. You were in love? You know love? I seriously doubt it. You wouldn't know love if it bit you on your bony ass. You-"

He stopped her, "Ms Ella, although I do enjoy these friendly chats, I must insist you lower your voice. I have quite the headache."

"I could really care less about your hangover. That's what it is, a hangover. Your drunken tirade gave you away."

He groaned, "How perceptive."

"Ha, a two day binge. How pathetic. Lose this number. I told you to never call me again."

"Yes, but you also asked me questions. I felt a need to answer them."

"No, you wanted to feed me a sad story so that I would change my mind. Well, it didn't work."

He sighed, "I admit that I was drunk, but I wasn't lying."

She laughed, "So tell me then, when was the great Draco Malfoy ever in love?"

Silence.

She laughed again, "That's what I thought. It must get tiring, lying all the time. Don't call me again."

"Wait. Don't hang up. I will tell you, but if I do- if I can prove to you that I know what love is, will you sing at my engagement party? Please."

She sighed. He was begging her. Draco Malfoy was begging her. Her heart softened. He had begged her once before:

Flashack

He was holding her against his chest, his head buried in her hair. "Hermione. You know I can't."

She was crying, "You can't or you won't?"

He was shaking, "I just need a little more time...just, please."

She pulled away, "I don't have anymore time."

Flashback ends

Maybe she had been too quick to react last time. Maybe if she had stayed, things may have been different. No. She couldn't sit around waiting for him. She deserved better.

"Mr. Malfoy, I really don't think-"

"Then don't think. Just listen."