It's been a very long time and I apologise.
I spent a long time working on myself during this pandemic.
I finally revised this story after I had some people write to me asking me to continue and honestly I never forgot this story I just couldn't find any time to write but I finally have.
So I can't guarantee uploads will be frequent but I really want to finish this for my own sake.
So as always, if anyone is still reading, let me know what you think.
Much love3
Draco's Point of view
Granger lowers back down to her heels, stepping away slowly as the wind whizzes quickly between us, throwing her hair across her face. She tucks it messily behind her ear, holding it there in place. I look towards the small house, with that familiar feeling in my stomach. Maybe If I just tell her all that's in my head right now- how the house looks the exact same as the one I saw in the Pensieve and how being here feels like déjà vu- then she might stay beside me and not go back inside. But that will only set me up for failure. Because the second I heard the Weasel slam that door I knew she was going to go after him.
She shuffles her feet awkwardly and I can see the look of torment twist in her brow.
"Go," I insist. She looks at me, her head tilted to the side, trying to scrutinise my expression. I turn away, towards the beach.
"I just have to make sure he's okay," She whispers but I don't want to argue so I say nothing instead. I have always known if they call she will go, it's something I'll have to learn to accept again.
Granger turns and I hear her feet move quickly along the sand until the breeze swallows her up entirely. I wait for the sound of the front door closing before I make my way back to a few large boulders scattered near the edge of the foothills. I sit back against one and watch the waves for a while. Even now, here with her, I am still ever on the outside. Literally.
Hermione's point of view.
When I enter the house there is tension as everyone tries to busy themselves as soon as I walk into the dining room area. But Ginny doesn't participate in the act, instead choosing to shoot me a questioning expression. I smile weakly at her and she nods towards the back door. I nod in reply and make my way outside, through the washroom that leads to the back porch, overlooking the water. I slide open the glass door and notice Ron sitting on the wooden bench outside.
Once outside I look out towards the right immediately to see if I can see Malfoy from this position but he's disappeared somewhere out of view. Ron picks at some of the overhanging grass between his shoes, leaning back when I shut the patio doors.
"Hermione, I'm extremely tired right now, can we do this another time?" He asks, tearing up a few long strands of grass and picking at them in his palm. I slide in beside him on the bench, pulling my knees up to my chest and zipping the coat up around them.
"Okay, sure," I say.
I stay, sitting there beside him, listening as the breeze tears through the grass like each blow is racing to catch up to that previous gust. Ron fidgets continuously as I wait. It's not like talking with Malfoy where I sometimes have to pull the conversation out of him. Ron will always speak; I know that so I just wait. It's better to wait than to speak first because he is the one who is hurt and it's only fair that he should be allowed to speak first.
When I assume his thoughts are somewhat in order he sighs, slapping his hands together loudly and brushing all the grass off of his hands and pants.
"I mean I know we talked about it when we were on the road but it's just different," he starts. I pull my legs closer, unsure what to say.
"I can understand that," I agree, quietly.
"It hurt when we spoke about it before but it was almost not real. A surface-level idea that didn't really hit home until just a moment ago and I can't pretend I'm not angry, because I am," he admits. I don't dare look at him, instead, we both stare ahead hoping perhaps the sea or the silence may come forth with an idea to stop this argument before it starts. But it stays silent, waiting for me to respond instead
"I understand," I say, again stupidly, unsure what to say or how to respond. I wish I had walked away when he said he didn't want to talk but that would have only pushed it back a few hours, maybe a day or two and I would still be right back here.
"You know I didn't say much about how you were when we were on the road. I just stepped away whenever you and Harry really got into it because I didn't want to think it was because of him. Because it made me so angry to even think of him and what he did to you. But I remember how you were Hermione, I remember how you'd pretend to fall asleep with us and then when you thought we were asleep you'd just sit awake, by yourself, for hours sometimes," He says.
I lay my chin on top of my knees, feeling nauseous. It hurts to hear this kind of thing because a lot of those nights and days we spent on the road I don't remember. I remember feelings-cold, hunger, fear. But as for what we did or where we went a lot of it is a blur and a haze.
"And now, he appears back out of nowhere and you just drop everything, all that happened and forget what that year was like, for Harry and I too. We were the ones that had to watch you deteriorate," he argues. I sigh, knowing that he's right. He can't forget what I chose to compartmentalise.
"I haven't forgotten," I admit.
"It seems like you have, Hermione. He left you! I won't sit here and pretend that I'll ever understand or that I want to even know what was going on with you two when we were at Hogwarts but a coward walks away and a coward comes back with their tail between their legs," he implies.
"Okay, so would you prefer he didn't stop Bellatrix when we were at the manor?" I argue back.
"That's not what I'm saying!"
"Then what are you saying? Because it sounds like you would have preferred him to stay there. I get that you're angry that he's here. You're not the only person who is angry at me, Ron, okay? I get you're angry but he saved my life back there at the Manor. Does that not prove anything to you?" I ask.
"I know he saved you, Hermione. I just don't want to ever be grateful to him. One right does not fix everything. As long as he is here, I will always see him as the enemy and nothing will change that. I don't trust him. I don't trust him being here. I don't trust him around you and nothing you say will change that because I think you're making a huge mistake Hermione. "
"Ron, what do you want me to say?" I ask, trying to stay as calm as I can.
"It's supposed to be me, you and Harry-
"Ron you can't gatekeep me, that's not how this is going to work," I reply.
"I not trying to gatekeep you, this isn't finders' keepers, Hermione. I'm just saying that you're not thinking straight and you haven't been for a while and now you're putting everyone in danger by bringing him here. What if this is all pretend? What if he's just here to get intel?" Ron asks.
I let that sit for a minute in the air because it hurts. It genuinely hurts me that he thinks I would purposely put everyone in harm's way. He can't see what I see and I understand that he's just looking at this from a different perspective. A perspective of hate and hurt but that doesn't mean his words hurt any less.
"I am sorry that you think I'm purposely putting everyone in danger. Do you think I would allow him to be here if I had even a single doubt about him? Do you really think so little of me?" I interject.
"Don't say it like that," he argues.
"No, because you've basically called me a fool," I argue.
"I never said you were a fool, just that you're acting foolishly," he admits.
"Okay, but you and Harry love to bring up how bad I was on the road but did I once ever not do my duty? Did I once ever let you or Harry down? Did I ever break the promise we made to Harry that we would always be by his side?" I shout. Ron shrinks down beside me.
"No, but-"
"But nothing!" I shout, furious. "You both forget that I was the one who held both of you up for that year. You so quickly forget all I did for you. I wasn't a fool then and I'm not one now Ron," I say.
My words sit in the air for a long time before either of us speak. We wait in the salty air for the anger and venom to leave our throats. Because I don't want to speak to Ron like we are enemies and I doubt he does either. But anger has a way of creeping up on you much faster during war times. It sits in the tension that hangs in the air all around us waiting to jump on its next easy target.
"The thing that hurts the most Hermione is I can't begin to even understand why him?" he asks, raising his hands before I can respond.
"This isn't a question of why not pick me, I just don't get out of everyone you would choose him. Hell, I would of more easily accepted you picking Harry. But Malfoy? I will never understand it, as long as I live," he admits.
"I don't have an answer for that, Ron. Because I don't understand why myself," I say. Ron picks up a rock and throws it out towards the sand, hitting another rock it bounces and lands with a soft thud.
"What happens now?" he asks, standing up from the bench. He walks forward and leans out over the wooden bannister, the colour mostly stripped away with the rain and the wind. I stare up at him, the sun reflecting off his red hair. It's much longer now, almost down to his shoulders. He tucks it behind his ears as the wind tries to throw it around.
"I don't know," I answer, honestly, stepping up to stand beside him.
"I don't know what's going to happen in the next hour. I'm just glad you and Harry are okay," I say, hoping my words will lighten the mood. Ron smiles a little.
"Obviously I'm glad you're okay too, Hermione. I was so worried that night in the Manor, I thought you were going to die," He admits.
"I thought so too. I don't remember much of it. I just remember Malfoy picking me up and then we were someplace else. It happened so fast," I say.
"He really saved you, huh?" He says, more to the wind than to me.
"He really did."
"I know it's impossible to feel any empathy for Malfoy because I know how you and Harry feel about him but just take a second to think about the fact that his entire family stood in that room that night and he picked me up and walked away from all of them. The only family he has ever had he just turned his back on."
"We've all made hard choices, Hermione," he huffs.
"I know that. This isn't a competition to see who has endured more suffering. It's just something to think about. Food for thought. Because if you take Malfoy out of the equation that is still an incredibly hard decision to make. Especially when you have nothing to fall back on."
I push away from the railing and make my way towards the patio door, too exhausted to continue the conversation much longer. I haven't eaten all day and the entire event has made me weak.
"I don't think a coward would have made that choice," I say, sliding the door open and leaving Ron on the patio.
I move back through the house. There's a shuffling of feet before I open the door to the living room. Everyone moves around the room as If I've walked in on a live performance. Ginny stands waiting by the door.
"Are you okay?" she whispers, taking my elbow. I nod at her, sighing.
"Just tired Gin," I answer. She walks into the kitchen, picks up a banana from the fruit bowl, and hands it to me.
"He's still outside," she informs me. "I doubt he'll come back in without you," she adds. I nod again, sliding the banana into my coat pocket.
"I think we're going to stay the night here. Tonks is heading out soon. I heard Lupin talking to her on Bill and Fleur's telephone. Talking into this plastic thing, isn't that weird?" Ginny rambles. I smirk at her.
"I'll go and get Malfoy," I say, noticing a few heads turn in my direction at his name.
Draco's Point of view.
She catches me off guard, bumping her knees into mine as she sits down. I had been waiting for the sound of the front door shutting but I guess I must have fallen asleep. The sounds of the waves being a sweet rhythm I couldn't resist. I jolt a little awake as she sits. She digs into her pocket and takes out a banana, handing it to me.
"I'm not really hungry," I admit, yawning.
"Me neither," she agrees. "But you should eat," she says, nudging me with the banana.
"If anyone should eat, it's you, Granger," I say, pushing it back towards her. She lets it fall down by her side, too tired to argue. I take it out of her hand and open it up, breaking it in half.
"Eat half," I compromise. She smirks a little, accepting the piece. She leaves it to sit in her hand for a while longer as she stares out at the sea.
"Anything I should be worried about," I ask, looking back towards the cabin.
"Nothing I can't handle," she replies.
"That's not what I asked," I insist. She rolls her eyes at me half-heartedly.
With no lights on in the house, it's easy to imagine for a moment that it's just me and her out here. Just being here in the middle of nowhere together listening to the waves and the seagulls. But I know everyone she cares about is in that house and she's out here, with me. Excluded by association.
"I can still go, Granger. If that's what's easiest. I can just go someplace else. Away from here?" I imply. Away from you.
"No," she says, adamant. But her voice is weary and tired, her eyelids heavy against the sun.
"I can-
"No!" she argues, harsher this time and her outburst cause her to raise a hand to her forehead, steadying herself.
"Here," I say, pulling her back on the rock. I lean my back against the hill and pull her back too.
"Lay back," I say as she turns confused. She pulls up her hood and leans back, her hood shielding her eyes from the blinding sun.
"I'm so exhausted," she admits sheepishly.
"Rest your eyes," I encourage, pulling her up to lay her head against the soft earth.
"I'm okay," she argues, trying to sit back up again, I grab her shoulders and pull her back down, with little to no effort. She is so tired she has little fight left in her.
"I'll be here," I say and this stops her arguing. She relaxes her body and head against my shoulder and I lean back, pulling my hood up against the sun's glares.
"Just for a minute, then," she admits and I hear sleep already taking her. I smile allowing my eyes to close too.
"You'll still be here?" She asks, barely a whisper.
"I'll still be here." She drifts away and I feel the tension leave my body that I had been holding onto for a very long time. The next few breaths I take are deeper and easier.
I feel okay.