Fallen: A Thwarted Love Story, 12/12
Feb. 2nd, 2011 11:44 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Chapter 12: Bittersweet Surprises
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Hermione Granger looked out of the window at the cold, grey dawn. The smell of moisture was in the air, promising rain. As she looked up at the clouds, a chill of foreboding worked its way up her spine. They remind me so much of Draco’s eyes. As the unwelcome thought caused her heart to twist within her, she found herself actually moving her hands as though to push the hurtful comparison away by force. It had been five years since she had laid eyes on the man, but he still managed to haunt her dreams quite frequently.
Harry had spirited her away to Grimmauld Place after his vision, promising to keep her safe from harm. Her memories of the time that followed were shrouded in overwhelming confusion and a sense of betrayal. She believed that Draco loved her, but could not help but wonder if he would be strong enough to defy Voldemort’s orders. She could only hope so as she waited throughout that long night, tossing and turning as she attempted to sleep in the early hours of morning.
Before she realized it, Harry had returned and was shaking her awake from her uneasy slumber. “Hermione, wake up! Malfoy was at Hogwarts looking for you. Voldemort is dead,” Harry said in a rush. Absolute silence met his declaration. It was several minutes before Hermione could find her voice to speak. Her words erupted breathlessly from her mouth. “What! How…who?” she asked in a stunned whisper, “Are you hurt?”
Harry regarded her with a bemused expression. “I’m not hurt, Hermione. It wasn’t me who killed him,” Harry reassured her. “But…the prophecy. Even Dumbledore believed you were destined to be the one to kill him!” Hermione exclaimed. She quickly edged herself into a chair as she felt her knees weaken.
“Apparently that old bat Trelawney is as cracked as we’ve always thought,” Harry responded, “It was Malfoy who did it.” The news hit Hermione like an icy ocean wave, chilling her to the bone. “Draco?” she breathed, “Is he alright?” Harry nodded, loosening the bands of worry that had taken a vise-like hold around her body. “Apparently, he got tired of taking his master’s orders. Being forced to kill you was what made him snap,” Harry said with satisfaction. “He wanted to know where you were, but I didn’t tell him. Not that I could’ve anyway, being that I’m not secret keeper for the Order. He loves you, Hermione. He told me himself.”
Hermione felt her heart break its steady rhythm as she processed Harry’s words. He loved her. Nevertheless, she felt the paralyzing cold of doubt and betrayal begin to take hold of her body as she realized what Harry’s revelation meant. “He lied to me, Harry. The entire time…he lied to me about everything,’’ Hermione sobbed, “He was working for Voldemort.” The tears came fast at first, and then slowly, seeming to burn a scorching path against her pale skin as they fell.
“Hermione, did you not hear what I said? Malfoy killed Voldemort! For you! Because he didn’t want you to die like that. I didn’t believe it at first, but he truly does love you. I saw that in his eyes,” Harry told her bracingly.
“Harry, you don’t understand. The only reason he killed Voldemort at all was because he was going to have Draco kill me. What if it had been some other Muggleborn he was forced to kill? Would he have fought Voldemort then?” she wondered allowed.
“We can’t know that for certain, Hermione,” Harry answered, “but that doesn’t erase the good that Malfoy has done.” Harry eyed her tear-streaked face with concern, privately thinking he’d never seen her look more devastated than she did in that moment.
Wiping her eyes, she looked across at Harry with a new and bitter edge to her gaze that it had not held before. “Harry, I can’t be with someone who would keep things like this from me, no matter how much I love him. If he lied about his activities with Voldemort, Merlin knows what else he’s lied about,” she said uneasily. The steely quality of her gaze never wavered, and it wasn’t long before Harry left, thanking the gods that he wasn’t in Draco Malfoy‘s shoes. He knew it be a very long time before she forgave his lies.
* * *
Draco Malfoy looked up from contemplating the familiar surroundings of Diagon Alley and sighed. He had searched for Hermione far and wide since his abrupt departure from Hogwarts at the end of sixth year, but had never yet been able to find her. He’d not been in England for years, choosing to finish his magical education at Beauxbaton’s Academy in France, thereby gaining the anonymity that he had sought after the Dark Lord’s defeat.
Some strange sense of intuition had carried his searching back to the streets and places he had frequented in his youth. There was a sense of impending change in the air, though whether for good or ill, Draco had no inkling. Diagon Alley had changed little in the five years since he had called England home, though it had grown somewhat. He couldn’t fail to notice the overly large, garishly bright sign just outside of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. He was so bedazzled by it that he almost missed the sight of curly golden-brown hair through the shop window. His breath seemed to freeze in his lungs as he took in the chocolate eyes gazing at him with no small measure of suspicion, though he couldn’t help but think she demonstrated precious little surprise for someone he’d not seen in years.
Walking through the door, he listened to the merrily jangling entrance bell, savoring the moment of hope he felt at finally being in Hermione’s presence again. When she spoke, her voice was familiar, but somehow deeper and fuller than he remembered, brushed by maturity and touched by pain that made him wince to think about it.
“What do you want, Malfoy?” she asked, as though this confrontation was inevitable and she wanted to get through it as quickly as possible. Raising one pale eyebrow, he spoke into the brittle silence. “Hermione, it’s been years since we’ve seen each other, surely we can be civil to one another at the very least.’’
Hermione snorted in disbelief. “Civil, Malfoy? Civility hurled itself out the damn window the night Voldemort died, you-” Her speech was suddenly interrupted by a loud wail from the back room. A child. Draco felt his heart plunge down to his feet at the thought. He was too late.
“I’m coming, James,” Hermione called, shooting a glare in Draco’s direction. A few moments silence elapsed, and Hermione returned with her arms full of a dark-haired infant. Answering the questions in the gaze Draco directed at her, she said: “This is James Potter. He isn’t mine; he belongs to Harry and Ginny. I’m looking after him today.” Her tone was matter-of –fact and flat.
“Hermione, I wish you’d let me explain,” Draco began softly. She was watching him with a level gaze that was so devoid of feeling as to be unnerving. “It’s Granger to you, Malfoy,” Hermione snarled. “You lost the right to call me by my name when I found out you’d been lying to me the entire time we were together.” The pain and anger in her eyes made him flinch and take an involuntary step back.
“I had to, don’t you understand that?” Draco asked, “You’d have hated me if you found out about him. I couldn’t lose you.” His voice was a husk of itself as his speech tapered off. “I never wanted to hurt you.”
“Draco, why? Why couldn’t you just be honest with me? Did you honestly think that I wouldn’t understand? That I’d cut you off? I loved you.” Slow tears fell from Hermione’s eyes as she looked at him, longing filling her heart. Longing for what could have been. “I can’t be with a liar, Draco, no matter how noble your reasons might have been.”
“So, that’s it then? Five years of searching for you and this is all I get? Give me a chance, please?” Draco’s eyes were pleading as he looked at her. Suddenly leaning across the counter, Draco brought his lips to Hermione’s, feeling the rigid stiffness in her body. Hermione tasted the familiar combination of cinnamon and Draco. Hermione felt herself soften almost unwillingly. Breaking away before the kiss went any further, she let out a breathless sob “Malfoy, don’t do this, please. I don’t want this.”
“I might believe that, if not for the look in your eyes, Hermione. I want you, and I know you want me, too.” His expression was smug as he continued, “Tell me the truth, Hermione.”
“Get out, Malfoy, before I decide to hex your male parts off and send them to you in a paper sack,” Hermione threatened, “Whatever we had died a long time ago. I’d appreciate it if you left right now. And don’t bother coming back. I don’t want you.”
“Well, well. Now who’s lying, Granger? I thought you couldn’t stand liars. How will you live with yourself from now on?” The smile on his lips was teasing, but the look in his eyes was as though he’d died. Perhaps she really didn’t want him after all. “Alright, Granger. I will leave if you insist upon it, but you should know that I never give up without a fight. And you’re worth so much more than galleons.”
“Please, just go Draco,” Hermione whispered brokenly. “I-I can’t deal with you right now. If you have any feeling for me at all, just leave-now. This hurts too much.” Draco frowned, but nodded, turning to leave. Pressing a kiss to her cheek, he could not help but taste the lingering salt of her tears. “You’ll always have my heart, Hermione Granger,” he whispered softly.
As Draco walked out of the doorway, cutting a dejected path down Diagon Alley, he almost thought he heard Hermione whisper: “And you will always have mine, Draco Malfoy. Before he Apparated home, he reflected that life was an unpredictable monster, full of bittersweet surprises.