17/01/2014 16:08![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
my_thestral
my_thestralAuthor's note: Everything has been said about 5 minutes ago, except that the last few parts are totally unbeta-ed, so I apologize for my lame use (abuse?) of English - I have little hope of changing for the better and I guess you'll just have to bear with me. :)
Word count: 8997 (this part)
Pairing: Ron/Draco, some mention of past Ron/Harry
Rating: I'll stick with R for this story, if nothing else, at least the use of language always justifies it with me, I'm notoriously foul-mouthed
Disclaimer: see previous part; I don't own anything and I don't intent to do any harm, just trying to brighten my days a little
The air was thick with mutual antipathy as soon as the heavy door thumped behind him as a death sentence and Draco’s fingers closed tightly around a holder of his wand, discretely hidden up his sleeve. Taking one look at Hermione Granger Weasley he was ready to pay his homage to the Muggle poet that wrote about scorned women, furies and hell. The woman looked positively murderous. Cold anger and disdain were never so openly on display in otherwise soft and understanding brown eyes of the Minister of Magic. She sat behind her desk, shielded with god-knows what charms, the ultimate position of power, and never bothered to get up when he entered. He knew she would leave him standing by the door like a pauper if it was up to her, so he didn’t bother asking her permission to approach, he did so without asking. He straightened himself up to his full height and looked at her coldly:
“Ron sent me to apologize.”
Of course, no lies, Hermione thought to herself bitterly, he was too arrogant to bother. As hard as it was to admit, Draco Malfoy had never lied to her, he simply chose to keep some things from her and she knew in his books that made all the difference. But it didn’t make her hate him any less. He took everything that was worth anything from her and her fingers itched to make him pay. Still… she promised. And she had a life to go back to, as wretched as it was at the moment. She wouldn’t throw it all away for a few moments of satisfaction of hexing the bastard into an early grave.
“As far as I’m concerned, you did what he asked of you,” she spoke as coldly as she could. “I don’t know what Ron is thinking, but you know as well as I do, I can’t forgive you and I never will. Now, be kind enough – or at least smart enough, as I’m sure Malfoys are inherently incapable of kindness – to get the hell out of my office, before I forget myself and risk everything I’ve achieved for the few short moments of doubtless pleasure hurting you would bring me!”
By the end, her words were nothing short of a scream and Draco has never seen her lose he composure this much. It surprised him and it made him take a good hard look at her. Rather than a brilliant and powerful witch, however livid, Hermione Granger Weasley looked mostly and above all hurt. She aged in these last few weeks more than she had in the previous decade and suddenly she looked older, much older than her 25. The sleepless nights and tireless work were getting to her and the recent events did nothing for her appearance. Surely she was angry, yes, but Draco was pretty certain she was also sad and lonely and scared. It must have been a special kind of hell for her to lose so abruptly what she once took for granted – her two best friends, the love of a husband who was always there for her, the functional – at least in appearance – family life. She went from feeling secure, prosperous and happy to standing alone. And suddenly Ron’s request to apologize made sense. He would, but he had no intention of crawling. He’d rather make her understand. Malfoy style, of course.
“I’m sure you’re used to doing the very minimum of what Ron asks of you, to shut him up and have things run your way, but I’m afraid you can’t make this decision for me,” he spoke in a calm cold voice. “I promised your husband – I hope not one for much longer – to do the best I can and I fully intend to live up to my word. Only the best for Ron, Granger. Nothing else would do,” he said with a small provoking smile and saw her go pale. He must have rubbed at a sore spot, because her eyes positively lit with rage and she got up from behind her desk abruptly. Good, the beast was out of the woods, now he needed to tread carefully. And quickly, Minister or not, the woman was clearly ready to strike.
“I believe someone needs to be reminded of their promise to hear me out, yes?” He looked at her sharply, when she stopped dead in her track, clearly torn between her desire to hex him back to the age of the good ol’ Salazaar and her promise to her husband. Her sense of honour was the only thing that stood between her and Draco’s demise and the blond knew it was a feeble shield if the powerful witch really got mad. He hoped it was going to be enough, what he had to say wasn’t going to be easy on her. Ron was so going to pay for this…. Well, best grab the bull by the horns!
“Ron believes my intention was not to hurt you. Well, he is wrong. I meant to hurt you, it was every bit deliberate and I gloated in your pain. I will say that much, because I’ve learned an important lesson during the last few days: honesty will get you everywhere when Gryffindors are involved. However, as much as I enjoyed every moment of your humiliation, it was not my primary objective, just a welcome side-effect. You see, I’ve loved Ron for ages. And ages. In fact, I can hardly remember a time when I wasn’t crazy about him, though, admittedly, it took me a while before I recognised my feelings for what they’ve become. Most of the time I just thought the guy was driving me positively insane, something I’m sure you can relate to. Either way: hate him, or love him, my world has been rotating around him in more ways than you can imagine and yet – I had nothing to show for it. You got to have it all. And I hated you for it.”
He looked her straight in the eyes at those words and saw pure undiluted loathing give way to a spark of understanding.
“I hated you as I’m sure you hate me right now. You’ve always had it all: his attention, his friendship, just being around him, touching him, holding him, loving him… And it drove me insane. And insanely mad. Mad at you, mad at Potter, but mostly at you. Half of that “Mudblood” thing I wouldn’t let go off spurned out of my hatred for you, not as a person with no known magical ancestry – I’m not my father and I do know better - but as someone who had what I wanted most and could never have. And he gave you his all. Even his hand in marriage in the end. And much like that fool Potter, you went and threw it all away, because, again, much like that bespectacled idiot, you took him for granted. And for what, Granger? For your ambition? You’re on top now and isn’t it a lonely place to be? So I don’t hate you anymore, I have no use for it, but I don’t pity you either. You had your chance and you blew it, now it’s my turn to show this man how it feels to be loved.”
“How dare you talk about love, snake!” Hermione’s wrath exploded with such unexpected force that the blond instinctively took a step back to put some distance between them and his fingers gripped around the holder of his wand with renewed strength. “You wouldn’t know love if it jumped upon you like a Dementor and kissed you on the mouth, you slimy git! Love makes you do grand, wonderful, selfless things and you wouldn’t know how to spell these words if your life depended on it! You forget I saw what was in your head and it has nothing to do with love!
It’s an obsession, you lunatic, probably a dangerous sort and I’ll make sure Ron is properly warned! You’re hardly more than a demented pervert, stalking him like that, collecting the scraps of his life as a love-sick teenager! I’ve seen that place you’ve got, before you pushed me out of your mind; it took me a while, but it just dawned on me this morning what I’ve seen. The broken wand, his first broom, all those pictures… What in Morgana’s good name is wrong with you, to hold on to a place like this?! What are you, 12?! That’s not true love, you fool, that’s just you trying to make some sense of your pointless existence, you spoilt rich brat, and you fancy yourself in love for a change. And to think you’ve destroyed all our lives for something so worthless….”
“Shut up!!!” The deafening roar that broke out of Draco’s throat might as well not have been his own and she literally jumped, instinctively grabbing her wand and pointing it at him. And for a good reason. His eyes were ablaze with infernal hatred, the wrath in his eyes unmasked, looking every bit ready to erupt and the way he had bellowed at her… But when her wand really began to tremble, was when she looked, really looked into those blazing eyes, silver with out-of-this-world glow. She’s never seen so much pain in anyone’s eyes and for a moment there she had a fleeting thought she perhaps deserved to get hexed if she was the cause of such overwhelming distress.
Draco’s chest was heaving as if he’d just run miles and his self-control, such an inherent part to his appearance, was no where to be seen. What she saw in front of her was a very angry, very hurt young man and suddenly she was able to see him the way Ron hopelessly tried to convey: not a Slytherin, not her childhood bully, not a spoilt rich brat, but a real flesh-and-blood young man, much too young to have so much pain in his eyes, much stronger than she ever took him to be. She suddenly realized how much his arrogance concealed, for a moment she got a glimpse of what was underneath – and it made her shiver. And then he began to talk. Hard and cold and somehow still full of passion.
“You think because you’re smart you get to hurt people?! Is that what you did to him, to your marriage? Put Ron down, belittled him, bullied him into submission, into surrender with your superior intelligence and vocabulary? Well, I’ve got news for you Granger – you can’t do that to me, because this is the one game we both know you already lost. You’ve beaten yourself this time, I had but a minor part to play. Game over, bitch. But just for the record, just because you think you know it all: what the fuck do you think you’ve seen in my head?! How do you even presume you saw anything I didn’t want you to see?! How can you assume to interpret anything you might have seen?! You, of all people, who is the least equipped to judge anyone’s misery?! You, who always had, and got, anything a living human could ever want – and yet you managed to gamble it all away! Of course, you’ve still got your brain, your wonderful mind you’re so proud of – but do tell me, Granger, what good is it now, when it lost you a heart you should treasure above all?”
He looked at her piercingly with those silver eyes, for once not full of his usual arrogance, but with cold cutting straight-forwardness and the truth behind his words hurt more than any pretence of superiority might have. She wanted to retort so badly, tell him, he was wrong, that it was all his fault that her life was a mess, but unexpectedly the tears pooled up in her eyes and the words would not come. They would merely break her voice, show her weakness and she could barely keep herself standing straight as it was. But clearly, it was not his purpose to further gloat in her misery, he had merely established that he was getting his point across and he continued, seemingly unaffected by her unwavering wand still pointed at him:
“As l’ve already said – I’m here to live up to my promise to Ron and I don’t like to waste my time, so let me tell you a few things about myself, Granger, before you so recklessly take a right to judge me again.”
He paused for a second, as if what he was about to say wasn’t in tune with his character and then he spoke nevertheless, his voice quiet, but determined:
“I was raised to have no heart. I was raised to ignore it if it meant it could stand in a way of my ambition. I come from a long line of men who married the right person, made the right alliances, fathered a son, did what was expected of them, ruthlessly driving over any inconvenient inappropriate emotion they had in the process. And I tried so desperately to be that man, to be what my father, my family expected me to be. Ever had a sword of your parents’ ambition and expectation hung low above your neck? No? I didn’t think so. What your parents wanted for you was probably to be happy. And somehow you managed to fuck that up as well, so perhaps you do know how I feel after all…
Mine was the world of “do”s and “don’t”s, a constant struggle of keeping just the right balance, just the right appearance, making just the right alliances, all the right choices that were to ensure my proper place in the world I was born into. I’m sure I would have been properly content with it in time. Not happy. But content. And then a miracle happened. My miracle. Ron. A total chaos to my existence.”
Draco’s voice got so unexpectedly soft and warm, the light in his eyes changed to a much softer shade of silver and she suddenly caught a glimpse of the man Ron was seeing behind the perfectly polished exterior:
“Ron. Ronald. Even the name was all wrong. That is not a good pureblood name. Not in the least. But that’s all he’s about. He… from the very beginning he knocked down everything I was raised to believe in; he, in one person, was everything I was taught to despise: dirt-poor, not brilliant in any way, a son of a blood traitor, insecure - nothing about his name, magic or appearance worth remembering, keeping around or using. But I didn’t see him this way.
I saw fire. I saw passion. I saw life; beautiful, raw, untamed life I’ve never seen in anyone else before. I saw warmth I never knew. I was drawn like a moth into the flame to those blue eyes, I couldn’t get enough of the light in them, I had to keep seeing it, I kept coming for it like a man, dying of thirst, to the wonderful cool fresh water. My fingers itched to sink into that silken warm hair, glowing with its own flame, my fucking dick got hard just thinking about those treacherous freckles sprinkled all over him like stardust, hating them and loving them at the same time. And I was only 11 when I first had those crazy confusing feelings and I was so fucked up, so tied up in my own prejudice and upbringing that I couldn’t recognise them for what they were. I loved him from the day I met him and I never knew… I just knew I kept craving his presence and I told myself I hated him, it was my duty to hate him and make his life miserable. Surely, father would have wanted it. He hated the Weasleys, that man, he still does. So I kept hanging around him until one day, some time during that god-awful Triwizard Tournament, it hit me and I knew.
It was like a bludger to the stomach when I realized what I really felt and it devastated me. Of course, there was nothing I could do. He hated me and I hated myself for falling for him so foolishly, for being so bloody helpless. Believe me, I’ve tried everything to fall out of this love that could never be. In the end I ended up fucking anyone other than him, as long as they’ve spiked my interests - but somehow I always seemed to pick the ones that reminded me of him in this way or another. And I tried fucking him up at every opportunity just to give him a scent of my own feeling of helplessness and make him spill some of that boiling passion on me, whatever form it took. God, those times were cruel! Whoever goes about the school years being the best of one’s life must have been obliviated; I can’t think of three bright days in a row, can’t think of anything that would give me hope in those fucking brutal teenage years I fell into so unprepared! I have no idea how it would have ended, I as sure as hell didn’t have any way out of that bloody cycle of unrequited love and mutual abuse - and then the war happened…”
And suddenly the soft glow in his eyes was gone and it was as if a door to his soul has closed in front of Hermione’s very eyes, that’s just how dark and full of despair his grey orbs had suddenly become.
“Before I knew it, I found myself on the wrong side of it; victim of my parents’ lunatic ambition and my Aunt Bellatrix insane fixation on the Dark Lord and his power; hostage in my own home, the threat of harm being inflicted onto me a constant sword over my poor foolish parents’ necks, who realized much too late what monster they’ve aided to power. Hate my parents all you like, but even you can’t think they’d ever be purposefully dim-witted enough to support someone that would place the heir to the Malfoy line in danger – they just didn’t realize they had, until it was too late. Sometimes I think my mother might have had a hunch about it, but she was always a tad too ambitious and far too infatuated with my father to stop that man from pulling us all under. I can’t blame her. I know what love can do to one’s mind and heart.
I wouldn’t wish what I had to go through in those times on my worst enemy, not even on you, Granger. You’ve spent what? – 2 hours in the company of my lovely criminally insane aunt? – I’ve spent months in that house of horrors! The things I’ve seen… the screams I still can’t get rid off, echoing in my ears in the black of the night… the things I was forced to endure… the things I was made to do… all those people… helpless… faultless… screaming endlessly and then going still… over and over again… piles and piles of them, literally…
But nothing, absolutely nothing, none of the horrors compared even remotely to the moment when he embraced me… That man, that creature, the darkest of them all, defiled me with his embrace and when it all went black around me, I smelled the decay and the rot of hell… I thought I’d never get rid of that smell, I used to scrub myself raw and bloody for months to get that smell out of my skin and when I’m in the worst, I still smell it, smell him on myself… And the cold… I thought I’d never be warm again, not in this lifetime… I still sometimes wake up shivering, feeling his grave-cold bones close around me and squeeze all light out of me…”
Closing his eyes, he stopped abruptly, unable to continue, and Hermione’s wand tumbled to the ground. She never thought she could ever feel anything other than contempt and anger towards the haughty blond, but there she was, feeling downright sorry for the man. He was ashen white and tiny pearls of sweat shone on his upper lip - and suddenly he looked as old as grave. But then his eyes flickered open, silver glow in them unwavering, his look hard, grey and determined to go through with what he came here to say - and for the first time in her life Hermione Granger found appreciation for the Slytherin resilience.
“And all this time I was as far away from Ron as I could imagine. My mind was so dark back then I couldn’t imagine I’d ever see him again. I wouldn’t want to, not rationally, not under the circumstances I was forced to live in, if you can call such a miserable existence life. But my heart desperately craved it. It was in those times that I created a shelter you’ve glimpsed in my head. Surely, to you it might seem like a madman’s cave, like a work of a man possessed, but believe me, it was a life-saver. More by chance than knowledge I’ve stumbled upon a secret compartment adjoined to my bedroom – undoubtedly a safe haven for one of the previous heirs of the house.
I was desperate to get away from my crazy aunt whose greatest kink proved out to be making me torture the newcomers – and I’ve somehow triggered the door to the hidden place to open and no man alive was ever so happy to have found a shelter. When I figured out she couldn’t find me, no one could, actually, it seemed to be aligned only to work with the magic of the heir of the Malfoy line or some such rot, I spent my every free moment hiding inside of those walls. I knew I was expected at… certain activities… after all, meals in the Manor had become a very… eventful and equally horrifying occasion… but apart from that – I was gone. And it irritated my aunt to no end and it added line after line to my mother’s face, worrying about me like she did, not knowing where I was and which one of the deranged lunatics roaming the Manor I might be with – but I couldn’t tell her, I’ve seen with my own eyes how decomposing hours of prolonged torture can be to a person and I just couldn’t risk it.
That place… it was my only true home, my own tiny island of peace and sanity in the ocean of brutal madness I was lost at. So I made it into my little heaven, decorating it with everything my heart thrived in. It proved out to be him, Ron, only him. I had nothing else to hold on to. My mind went through a million scenarios of where he was and what he was up to; there was no end to my desperate dreams and wishful thinking, to my regrets of how I had treated him… it was all I had. I got myself a pensive and I’d watch my treasured memories for hours, sometimes laughing like a madman, sometimes howling empty tears into the echoing room… I’d spent hours in there and I even surprised myself how inventive I could be in collecting some of the stuff you’ve seen in my mind. You’re right – I was obsessed; after all this was the only thing that kept me clinging onto the life so miserable, I would have thrown in the towel time ago if it wasn’t for a thought of another thing I could get my hands on; just a tiny newspaper scraping about his presumed whereabouts one day, a piece of his Quidditch equipment the next – and it was enough to make me go on.
We do what we have to, to survive, Granger, I’m sure you can understand that part, and somehow my mind decided the only way for me to keep on going was to focus on Ron. And my heart followed gladly. Let it never be said that my obsession was not founded in love; I love that man past the upbringing I have, past the fact that we’re both men and something like this is unheard of in my world, past him being on another side of the spectrum of everything I was supposed to want and expect in life – I simply love him, I do.”
He looked her straight in the eye at those words and the truth in those silver orbs was undeniable. Draco Malfoy was without a doubt in love with her husband – and suddenly she realized she could not even hate him for it anymore. Instead her heart was almost sore with compassion for him, for everything he had endured - but she knew that as proud as he was, he would reject it fiercely if she ever attempted to bring it forward. So she said nothing, she merely nodded with a lump in her throat, but he didn’t even seem to acknowledge that, a look in his eyes suddenly so distant as if he was not really seeing anything besides the memories in his head, his voice uneven and rasp as if even remembering brought remnants of pain back into this moment.
“And then he came. The Snatchers had brought the lot of you into the Manor and he stepped out of my cherished dreams straight into the nightmare I was living - and it almost destroyed me. He looked at me across the room at one point, I’m sure he doesn’t even remember, but I’ll never forget… There was no hatred in his eyes for the first time since I’ve known him, just a desperate plea for help and it tore me apart like nothing else ever could. He wasn’t supposed to be there, none of you were, for fuck’s sake, but I only cared about him. The few hours you’ve spent in there were probably the worst in my life. My mind worked feverishly to find a way to get him out of there and every feeling I ever had about him, returned with a vengeance: I realized him I loved him so desperately I was willing to put myself in harm’s way to protect him and I had never before felt anything like that for anyone. Not even for my parents.
So when a chance occurred, I did the only thing there was left for me to do – I let Potter take my wand, rendering myself completely defenceless. I had to put up a show of fighting for it, of course, but even he must have felt that I was not doing it full-heartedly. Unfortunately, so did the Dark Lord and I was severely punished for that.
I was… damaged and ill for a long time after that and the one thing that actually saved my life was the fact that attendance to Hogwarts became mandatory to all pure-blood students and since the Dark Lord issued the order himself, he had to give into my mother’s pleading and let me go. That beast was all about illusions, so keeping up appearance of structure and order when really, there was nothing than chaos of his sick demented wishes – well, that became my life-line. I don’t think I would have survived much longer in the Manor, my aunt Bella was livid with me for having let down her worshiped Master and thus looked for every opportunity to harm me.
And that’s where our lives briefly collided again, Granger. The battle of Hogwarts happened and that part you know. But do you know what I remember best from it, other than being reunited with my parents? I got to see him, Ron, again. There he was, punching me in the face, screaming at me that you’d saved my life twice in a day - and where he hit me, my skin became so wonderfully warm as if he branded me with his fire, his passion and it was the first of warmth I felt since I first laid eyes on that foul dark creature that destroyed our childhood. It gave me hope there was salvation for me somewhere down the road, that there will once be a time when I will no longer be cold, alone, stuck in the shoes of a man I didn’t want to be, yearning desperately for someone I could never have. Because he looked at me, when he hit me, all boiling anger and contempt, but he acknowledged me like he only knew how and I knew that in spite of despising the very scent of me, he would never be indifferent towards me. And I chose to find even hope in that.
It gave me the strength to withstand the trial, the public humiliation, the festivities surrounding your, the Golden Trio’s double wedding and eventually picking up on the gossip that he was screwing Potter as well, the miserable mockery of marriage my beloved father inflicted on me – at least something good had come out of that, because I have a son now, Granger, and I love him fiercely.”
The bright smile that lightened the blond’s face at those words was such a rare occurrence that Hermione barely recognised the features underneath it – gone was the cold narrow face with harsh eyes she remembered from her youth, the smile had transferred his pretty face into that of a smart looking young man with light in his eyes and an unmistakeable expression of childish pride and unconditional love that might as well be her own when she talked about her children. Draco Malfoy undoubtedly loved his son and that love resonated through every word when he spoke about him.
“He is the sweetest thing on the planet and I intend to keep him that way. He is my little confidant, he’s the only one I ever introduced to the shelter I still keep at the Manor. You see, I can’t stand it to ever stay there, not over night at least – but I can’t deny my parents their role in bringing up their grandson, the heir to the Malfoy name. My wife is… incompetent, to put it lightly and for one, I trust my mother implicitly with raising my son according to my wishes – she knows very well I would walk away and never look back if they ever tried to raise him the way I was brought up. Her instructions on the matter are very clear and I have another… creature - well, I suppose you would call him a person – watching over my son, just in case my father got any bizarre ideas how the pureblood children should be raised properly. Trust me, I would find out immediately, I have paid for my lessons dearly.
But I would never be able to go near the Manor without knowing there was a shelter for me there; a safe-spot where I would be free of the bad memories should I ever suffer a flashback of all the horrors that took place there – unfortunately, in the years that followed the war, that was a common occurrence. So once during a particularly nasty episode of having a sudden onslaught of most unpleasant memories my son – my Scorpius - followed me to the room in question - and he was fascinated. You see, he’s also an heir and the room opened to him with no reservations. I told him this is the place daddy comes to dream and he didn’t question me. I told him stories about the boy on the pictures, legends really, about his horrible malfunctioning wand and the adventures he went on with his two best friends, the boy with the mysterious mark and the super-smart witch, and how he had nothing when he was little and became everything when he grew up – and I think its because of those stories he understands and knows me better than most adults do by now.
So one day he asked me, if the boy was ever real or if he only lived in the stories – which, in my humble opinion, is uncommonly astute for his age – so I told him that the boy was real and that he was no longer a boy, but a man now. Then he went on to ask me, how I knew all these stories and I told him knew him since he was a boy and his eyes got at big as the moon. The next thing out of his mouth was: Can he come and live with us? And it hurt, Granger. How on Merlin’s bloody earth was I supposed to tell him the man he came to idolize hated me?!
He loves that room and I think he might love the man it is about almost as much as I do. He can hardly go to sleep without a story of Ronnie and his friends, and one of their adventures. I think his favourite one is the story on how they saved daddy from the fire-dragon and he falls asleep with a smile on his face every time they conquer the beasts and the world is a safe place again. I can’t bear to think he would ever know any different. You might think me an imbecile for trying to protect my son from the world he will eventually have to enter and which will be none too gentle to the heir to a family of renown Death Eaters – but I don’t have a heart to break down his little Universe with a glimpse of reality, not just yet. I’m willing to do my best to let that boy keep his innocence and his dreams for as long as he can.
So I told him - ” Draco stopped, as if he was hesitating and when he finally looked at her, Hermione noticed that, surprisingly enough, there was a guilty look in his eyes . “I told him never to tell another person about that room and about that man, because daddy’s dreams could come to an end and we would never see that man again - but if he kept our secret long enough, the man from the stories would step out of my dreams once and come and live with us. And he can’t wait for that day, Granger; I know he can’t, because he asks me about it every night when I tuck him in. And every day I just wanted to hex myself for lying to him about it and giving him hope where there was none – right until my fortunes turned and I found myself in that corridor where with your husband and Potter snogging and my feeble plan was born. It was never much of a chance, but I’ve done my waiting, endless tiresome hopeless years of it, and I was desperate.
I don’t know how much of the rest you know, if you haven’t kept contact with Ron, so here it is, in a nutshell: They never stopped doing it - shagging, that is - Potter wouldn’t let Ron go – but he wouldn’t let go of his family either. So Ron finally had enough and tried putting some distance between them therefore he filed for transfer – and I made sure he got me as a partner instead. Of course Potter got livid and even more so when I managed to… persuade Ron, somewhat clumsily, I admit, that I practically worship the floor he stands on – well, not with these words, as you might imagine – and he agreed to a dinner with me. A very spectacular dinner you can read – oh, you have probably already read about in that impossible rag The Prophet is these days - except it’s all a bunch of crap, dictated by Potter. He followed us there, wife in trail, imagine that, and tried to secure Ron to himself, howling about me being a poisonous selfish bastard. Except when Ron made him choose with his wife on the edge of horizon, he didn’t come out as so selfless himself. He couldn’t do it and Ron knew it. So he chose me instead, kissed me in front of everyone and everything and I couldn’t wait, Granger, I couldn’t wait to be able to show the whole bloody world who it was that I longed for.
Now, that was yesterday and please don’t ask me if I used whatever potion or illegal charm on him to make him fall for me so fast, you’re far too intelligent for that. I guess there was just something underneath it, underneath all those violent emotions going back and forth between us for years, that did it for both of us and believe me, I wouldn’t have thought in a million years that my dreams would come true practically over night. I mean, I know I’m a catch, of course I bloody well am, even married and all – but Ron… he could have anyone he wanted and I’m as unlikely a choice he was ever going to make. He’s a bloody war hero; your - the Minister’s - husband and the Saviours best friend – and a fucking sex on two feet at that! I was… I’m still somewhat stunned by it.”
And his eyes showed it, Hermione couldn’t deny that. He had awe in his eyes, almost a childish disbelief and she never thought she’d ever say something like that about Draco Malfoy, but he looked almost innocent and certainly very vulnerable, when he spoke next, a barely detectable uncertainty lingering in his voice.
“I keep on thinking that perhaps I will wake up and this will all be just an elaborate wonderful dream that will leave me more empty and drained of hope than ever before. It wouldn’t be a first, I dream about him, about us all the time. But this… seems real, especially the part where the whole bloody world is against us. So… now you know and I still haven’t done what he sent me in to do – apologize.”
He looked her straight in the eye at these words, once more a proper Malfoy, stern face and unreadable grey eyes, and spoke:
“I hope that by now you understand why I did what I did and you should know that I fully understand what I’m taking from you. And for that – I apologize. If someone took Ron from me, the way I helped take him from you – I would have been livid and desperate and murderous beyond belief. There is no saying what I would do and most certainly an apology wouldn’t have stopped me from doing it. But you’re not me, Granger. Ron trusts you and your ability to understand and forgive beyond belief. You’re like a Saint in his eyes when it comes to showing support and compassion and though I’ll fully understand if you can’t stand the sight of me after today, I think he’ll be let down.
I think it’s too late to say that I don’t want any bad blood between us, but I would appreciate it if you learnt how to tolerate or at least ignore me, while he’s around, because I plan to stay around him for a very very long time, possibly forever. If he’ll have me. I’m a hard man to stick by and I come with a lot of baggage, my family, my reputation, my upbringing being just some of those – but I’ll do anything to keep that man. I know good stuff when I see it and men just don’t get any better than Ron.”
He finally said his last words and silence fell heavy between them. He still stared her straight in the face, shoulders stiff and chin up as if expecting a blow, looking so much like his father than she almost pitied him. He really couldn’t leave himself behind, could he, no matter how hard he tried.
“You’re right about that,” she finally broke the silence and made her wand fly back into her hand. “He’s the best there is and though harsh, there’s a lot of truth about what you’ve said today. Our marriage was doomed from the start because I couldn’t let him be enough. I always thought I was born to be more than just a wife – though that was never his purpose for me, it was his idea to stop at two children and go on with my career – and I didn’t see it, I didn’t see him, as important outside of our family. But he is, he… was. He was everything: my home to come to, my partner when I needed someone to back me up, a very good listener when I wanted to get something off my chest, my lover – well, I imagine at least you know that part by now, he is… exceptionally talented in that department, for all the clumsiness he had as a teenager.”
She smiled as the distant memory swept through her mind and before she realized, there were tears running down her face.
“Oh, bugger…” she whispered and turned around, unwilling to make a complete idiot out of herself in front of her husband’s – well, practically her ex-husband now – new boyfriend. But she was not able to stop, no matter how hard she tried. And when the long white fingers gently touched her shoulder and a handkerchief was pushed in the palm of her hand – she sobbed even harder. She cried for everything she had lost so foolishly and she cried for him, for Draco Malfoy and his sorrow, because he couldn’t… and she cried even for her hatred and anger as she had lost those as well and now there was nothing holding her together.
And not once did he attempt to hold her; a Malfoy to the bone, he just stood there and quietly waited for her tears to stop and there was a strange comfort, a strange point of focus and stability in that. For all that he had endured and all the damage he had done, he came to stand there in front of her, coming clean, fully aware of how much harm she could do to him, to them both – and she couldn’t help but admire his courage - or perhaps it was arrogance - that kept him together. For the coward little git he had been as a child, he became a man who could stand remarkably solid.
And she realized she would never fully understand the phenomenon that was Draco Malfoy. His perspective of the war chilled her to the bone, she knew there must have been unhealed damage left under that polished cool exterior - and yet he stood there, talking of it candidly, when so many couldn’t. She knew very well what strength of character that took, but then again, he was a Malfoy, perhaps his ability to stand tall in the face of misfortune was a given...
Except she had also caught a glimpse to another side of him, the one she would never associate with his family name and it came even more of a surprise to her than his solid core did: he had become a man who loved fiercely and for that alone he deserved Ron, he was the only one who did. Fire for fire – it must have rocked Ron’s world to find out how desperately desired and passionately loved he was – after all, that was everything he looked for in a person he wanted to share his life with. And Draco Malfoy was the one, she could sense that from where she was standing, even with her back turned against him. He had strength and resilience about him, but so did Harry and herself; what set him apart was his dedication to love Ron with no reservations. No “if”s and “but”s applied, he had put everything on the line to reach out to him and she didn’t have it in her to stand in their way. True love, wasn’t that all everyone yearned for? For all her sensibility, she was always a bit of a romantic.
And she wouldn’t put them through more hardship to get revenge, she was bigger than that. In comparison to what the Slytherin already went through – the war and all the desperate years of yearning for someone he couldn’t have - her broken heart just didn’t sound like much to whine about. At least she got quite a few years of happiness out of it and much her demise was her own doing. Of course, that hardly made it hurt any less. But she could overcome it – Ron was back in her life as her friend and the fact that he was making his lover apologize, was clear evidence that he still held her interest at heart. With him at her side, she could beat this and rise above it, perhaps even be happy once more, who knew? She had a life to rebuild and hating Malfoy would simply stand in her way of doing so. She wouldn’t risk losing Ron over trying to hurt his man. Besides - if she looked at the picture in the Prophet quite impartially: they did kind of look very cute together, didn’t they?
And of course, they would have it hard enough as it was; she suddenly realized she could not think of a single same-sex couple in the wizarding community at the top of her head, who openly lived together as such and a memory of Malfoy’s “unheard of in my world” suddenly surged through her mind, leaving an unpleasant feeling behind. How could she have missed it? In all her quest for all creatures’ rights – how could she have missed that there seemed to be no gay wizards and witches around? Surely, there were, there had to be, but they must have been forced to keep their preferences entirely to themselves in favour of procreation in the diminishing community they’ve become – Merlin knows if it wasn’t even illegal, some of the currently valid wizarding laws were literally straight out of the Middle ages! Something would have to be done about that, she’ll see to it as soon as Malfoy is gone.
Malfoy... She almost forgot about him in the excitement of the new project forming in her mind, but he was still standing there, looking at her with a curious look on his face. He must be expecting some sort of an answer, then. But before she managed to open her mouth, he spoke unexpectedly:
“I suppose we could say I owe you one and the way I see it, you are in bit of a public relation jam at the moment, so perhaps... would you care for an advice?”
That came as a surprise. But then again, the Malfoys were infamously slick when it came to handling unpleasant situations, so perhaps there was value in what he had to say.
“Go ahead, then,” she allowed, though not without caution in her voice. She might have come to terms with him being Ron’s partner of choice, but she would never be able to trust him fully. She also knew he would approve of her caution, he seemed to have a high opinion of her intellect after all.
“First of all, you needn’t worry. Skeeter’s article has got you the sympathy of the entire wizarding community. You are the betrayed wife, the nation’s heroine working hard for the benefit of the wizarding England – and you have been repaid most ungratefully for your efforts. If everything else fails, that is always one image you can fall back to. I know Ron. He will take his share of the blame and never speak of the part you had to play in the demise of your marriage. The chief part of the public scolding goes to me, of course... but I’m used to that, I can’t be bothered with attempts to gain public approval, never could be.
But you could do more. You needn’t be merely a cheated wife; you are in a unique position to place yourself above that and make a step further down the road of progress. In fact – it might even be expected of you, the way I see it. You are, without a doubt, the most progressive and reform-oriented Minister the English wizarding world has ever had throughout the history and this is your chance to make another mark. I was approached by a young man earlier, shyly expressing his support to my relationship with Ron, as well as his frustration in facing his own unwelcome feelings towards the same sex. He had nowhere to go, Granger, no one to talk to, because no one talks about these things. Everybody knows it’s there, but it’s as big a taboo as you’re ever going to stumble upon. Even the word to describe it is not there – “gay” has a far more traditional meaning in the wizarding world.
You are Muggle-born, perhaps you are unaware of that, but there is no place for gay wizards in our community, none out in the open. Of course, there are... activities, expertly masked under a cover of this establishment or another, but these aren’t accessible to everyone and some are downright seedy, a proper hunting grounds for all kinds of sexual predators. And you could be the one to change all that. You single-handedly changed the wizarding position towards the house-elves, why not this? I’m not asking that you support our relationship publicly, that’s entirely up to you and I don’t know if even your heart is quite that generous, but you could mention it, that besides leaving you hurt, the reason for the amicable parting of your ways with your estranged husband has also got you thinking... Thinking about change. And from there on, Granger, the world is yours. Do your magic, make it a better place.”
The small smug smile in the corner of his mouth did not really come as a surprise, but feeling her own mouth stretch out of its own accord to mirror it certainly came as a shock to herself. What a snake! He really knew how to play this game, didn’t he? And come to think he all but called her manipulative! She was almost sorry for Ron, forfeiting his life to this man, he might think himself in control now, but given time...
“You really are a smug slick bastard, Malfoy,” she managed and this time she saw his face split in a genuine biggest self-appreciative grin she ever saw on a living being. A cat having devoured a nest of mice could not have been happier with herself.
“One does one’s best, Granger,” he said, not even bothering sounding humble. “Are we good, then? Surely, Ron will want to know how it went and I would very much like your answer. I do not fancy hearing I didn’t try hard enough.”
“Oh, you did well enough,” she said quietly. “You can let Ron know your apology has been accepted. We might never be friends, Malfoy, there’s too much history between us for that, but I believe I can handle your presence... providing it’s not too often. Just promise, you’ll take good care of him!” she looked him in the eye and a single nod told her he had heard her and all the implications in her voice should he fail in that task.
With his hand already on the door-knob he turned around once more and looked at her solemnly:
“And Granger... thank you.” When he saw a surprised glimpse in her eyes, he said quietly: “I was never your biggest fan but I can’t forget you helped build the world in which my son is safe from blind hatred and mindless violence. And I never got to thank you for that, so I guess now it is as good a time as any, hence – thank you.”
And for some reason that sort of recognition from a haughty young man, who always acted as her better, created a lump in her throat.
“You’re welcome,” she said quietly and watched him leave. Ron could have made a worse choice of a partner. Much worse.
Once outside the door, Draco Malfoy leaned with his full weight on the door-frame. He was exhausted. The encounter with the bloody woman, making him face all his demons at once, had been draining. Only now he allowed the full shock of what he put himself through settle in and his hands began shaking so badly he rolled his eyes up at his own weakness and mumbled to himself: “Oh, for fuck’s sake, get a hold of yourself, Malfoy, or get a fucking job sugar-coating doughnuts!”
But he couldn’t deny how wretched he felt. He hadn’t expected it, having to give up so much of himself when he went in there, but this was for Ron and he was worth it. He had promised his best and let no one say Draco Malfoy did anything half-way when it came to keeping Ron Weasley happy. But now the ginger bastard owed him, he owed him big and he better make good on that promise he saw lurking inside those alluring blue eyes! And Draco would make sure he gets his payment. With interest. What good was it being a Malfoy, if you couldn’t squeeze ever last bit and then some of a mere Gryffindor! But right now, he needed to rest. The sleepless night, the turbulent morning – it had all caught up with him at once and he barely felt up to apparating all by himself. He was so tired he only managed to spare a fleeting thought as to where Ron was; surely the redhead would find him eventually, there were perks to having an accomplished Auror for a boyfriend. Right now, he needed his beauty sleep and he would get it; after all, he had to knock the breath out of that gorgeous bastard paying for his dinner!
~ End of Part 10/2 ~
Next: ( Choices, Part 11/1 )
See also:
( Choices, Part 1 )
( Choices, Part 2 )
( Choices, Part 3 )
( Choices, Part 4 )
( Choices, Part 5/1 )
( Choices, Part 5/2 )
( Choices, Part 6 )
( Choices, Part 7 )
( Choices, Part 8/1 )
( Choices, Part 8/2 )
( Choices, Part 9 )
( Choices, Part 10/1 )
Word count: 8997 (this part)
Pairing: Ron/Draco, some mention of past Ron/Harry
Rating: I'll stick with R for this story, if nothing else, at least the use of language always justifies it with me, I'm notoriously foul-mouthed
Disclaimer: see previous part; I don't own anything and I don't intent to do any harm, just trying to brighten my days a little
The air was thick with mutual antipathy as soon as the heavy door thumped behind him as a death sentence and Draco’s fingers closed tightly around a holder of his wand, discretely hidden up his sleeve. Taking one look at Hermione Granger Weasley he was ready to pay his homage to the Muggle poet that wrote about scorned women, furies and hell. The woman looked positively murderous. Cold anger and disdain were never so openly on display in otherwise soft and understanding brown eyes of the Minister of Magic. She sat behind her desk, shielded with god-knows what charms, the ultimate position of power, and never bothered to get up when he entered. He knew she would leave him standing by the door like a pauper if it was up to her, so he didn’t bother asking her permission to approach, he did so without asking. He straightened himself up to his full height and looked at her coldly:
“Ron sent me to apologize.”
Of course, no lies, Hermione thought to herself bitterly, he was too arrogant to bother. As hard as it was to admit, Draco Malfoy had never lied to her, he simply chose to keep some things from her and she knew in his books that made all the difference. But it didn’t make her hate him any less. He took everything that was worth anything from her and her fingers itched to make him pay. Still… she promised. And she had a life to go back to, as wretched as it was at the moment. She wouldn’t throw it all away for a few moments of satisfaction of hexing the bastard into an early grave.
“As far as I’m concerned, you did what he asked of you,” she spoke as coldly as she could. “I don’t know what Ron is thinking, but you know as well as I do, I can’t forgive you and I never will. Now, be kind enough – or at least smart enough, as I’m sure Malfoys are inherently incapable of kindness – to get the hell out of my office, before I forget myself and risk everything I’ve achieved for the few short moments of doubtless pleasure hurting you would bring me!”
By the end, her words were nothing short of a scream and Draco has never seen her lose he composure this much. It surprised him and it made him take a good hard look at her. Rather than a brilliant and powerful witch, however livid, Hermione Granger Weasley looked mostly and above all hurt. She aged in these last few weeks more than she had in the previous decade and suddenly she looked older, much older than her 25. The sleepless nights and tireless work were getting to her and the recent events did nothing for her appearance. Surely she was angry, yes, but Draco was pretty certain she was also sad and lonely and scared. It must have been a special kind of hell for her to lose so abruptly what she once took for granted – her two best friends, the love of a husband who was always there for her, the functional – at least in appearance – family life. She went from feeling secure, prosperous and happy to standing alone. And suddenly Ron’s request to apologize made sense. He would, but he had no intention of crawling. He’d rather make her understand. Malfoy style, of course.
“I’m sure you’re used to doing the very minimum of what Ron asks of you, to shut him up and have things run your way, but I’m afraid you can’t make this decision for me,” he spoke in a calm cold voice. “I promised your husband – I hope not one for much longer – to do the best I can and I fully intend to live up to my word. Only the best for Ron, Granger. Nothing else would do,” he said with a small provoking smile and saw her go pale. He must have rubbed at a sore spot, because her eyes positively lit with rage and she got up from behind her desk abruptly. Good, the beast was out of the woods, now he needed to tread carefully. And quickly, Minister or not, the woman was clearly ready to strike.
“I believe someone needs to be reminded of their promise to hear me out, yes?” He looked at her sharply, when she stopped dead in her track, clearly torn between her desire to hex him back to the age of the good ol’ Salazaar and her promise to her husband. Her sense of honour was the only thing that stood between her and Draco’s demise and the blond knew it was a feeble shield if the powerful witch really got mad. He hoped it was going to be enough, what he had to say wasn’t going to be easy on her. Ron was so going to pay for this…. Well, best grab the bull by the horns!
“Ron believes my intention was not to hurt you. Well, he is wrong. I meant to hurt you, it was every bit deliberate and I gloated in your pain. I will say that much, because I’ve learned an important lesson during the last few days: honesty will get you everywhere when Gryffindors are involved. However, as much as I enjoyed every moment of your humiliation, it was not my primary objective, just a welcome side-effect. You see, I’ve loved Ron for ages. And ages. In fact, I can hardly remember a time when I wasn’t crazy about him, though, admittedly, it took me a while before I recognised my feelings for what they’ve become. Most of the time I just thought the guy was driving me positively insane, something I’m sure you can relate to. Either way: hate him, or love him, my world has been rotating around him in more ways than you can imagine and yet – I had nothing to show for it. You got to have it all. And I hated you for it.”
He looked her straight in the eyes at those words and saw pure undiluted loathing give way to a spark of understanding.
“I hated you as I’m sure you hate me right now. You’ve always had it all: his attention, his friendship, just being around him, touching him, holding him, loving him… And it drove me insane. And insanely mad. Mad at you, mad at Potter, but mostly at you. Half of that “Mudblood” thing I wouldn’t let go off spurned out of my hatred for you, not as a person with no known magical ancestry – I’m not my father and I do know better - but as someone who had what I wanted most and could never have. And he gave you his all. Even his hand in marriage in the end. And much like that fool Potter, you went and threw it all away, because, again, much like that bespectacled idiot, you took him for granted. And for what, Granger? For your ambition? You’re on top now and isn’t it a lonely place to be? So I don’t hate you anymore, I have no use for it, but I don’t pity you either. You had your chance and you blew it, now it’s my turn to show this man how it feels to be loved.”
“How dare you talk about love, snake!” Hermione’s wrath exploded with such unexpected force that the blond instinctively took a step back to put some distance between them and his fingers gripped around the holder of his wand with renewed strength. “You wouldn’t know love if it jumped upon you like a Dementor and kissed you on the mouth, you slimy git! Love makes you do grand, wonderful, selfless things and you wouldn’t know how to spell these words if your life depended on it! You forget I saw what was in your head and it has nothing to do with love!
It’s an obsession, you lunatic, probably a dangerous sort and I’ll make sure Ron is properly warned! You’re hardly more than a demented pervert, stalking him like that, collecting the scraps of his life as a love-sick teenager! I’ve seen that place you’ve got, before you pushed me out of your mind; it took me a while, but it just dawned on me this morning what I’ve seen. The broken wand, his first broom, all those pictures… What in Morgana’s good name is wrong with you, to hold on to a place like this?! What are you, 12?! That’s not true love, you fool, that’s just you trying to make some sense of your pointless existence, you spoilt rich brat, and you fancy yourself in love for a change. And to think you’ve destroyed all our lives for something so worthless….”
“Shut up!!!” The deafening roar that broke out of Draco’s throat might as well not have been his own and she literally jumped, instinctively grabbing her wand and pointing it at him. And for a good reason. His eyes were ablaze with infernal hatred, the wrath in his eyes unmasked, looking every bit ready to erupt and the way he had bellowed at her… But when her wand really began to tremble, was when she looked, really looked into those blazing eyes, silver with out-of-this-world glow. She’s never seen so much pain in anyone’s eyes and for a moment there she had a fleeting thought she perhaps deserved to get hexed if she was the cause of such overwhelming distress.
Draco’s chest was heaving as if he’d just run miles and his self-control, such an inherent part to his appearance, was no where to be seen. What she saw in front of her was a very angry, very hurt young man and suddenly she was able to see him the way Ron hopelessly tried to convey: not a Slytherin, not her childhood bully, not a spoilt rich brat, but a real flesh-and-blood young man, much too young to have so much pain in his eyes, much stronger than she ever took him to be. She suddenly realized how much his arrogance concealed, for a moment she got a glimpse of what was underneath – and it made her shiver. And then he began to talk. Hard and cold and somehow still full of passion.
“You think because you’re smart you get to hurt people?! Is that what you did to him, to your marriage? Put Ron down, belittled him, bullied him into submission, into surrender with your superior intelligence and vocabulary? Well, I’ve got news for you Granger – you can’t do that to me, because this is the one game we both know you already lost. You’ve beaten yourself this time, I had but a minor part to play. Game over, bitch. But just for the record, just because you think you know it all: what the fuck do you think you’ve seen in my head?! How do you even presume you saw anything I didn’t want you to see?! How can you assume to interpret anything you might have seen?! You, of all people, who is the least equipped to judge anyone’s misery?! You, who always had, and got, anything a living human could ever want – and yet you managed to gamble it all away! Of course, you’ve still got your brain, your wonderful mind you’re so proud of – but do tell me, Granger, what good is it now, when it lost you a heart you should treasure above all?”
He looked at her piercingly with those silver eyes, for once not full of his usual arrogance, but with cold cutting straight-forwardness and the truth behind his words hurt more than any pretence of superiority might have. She wanted to retort so badly, tell him, he was wrong, that it was all his fault that her life was a mess, but unexpectedly the tears pooled up in her eyes and the words would not come. They would merely break her voice, show her weakness and she could barely keep herself standing straight as it was. But clearly, it was not his purpose to further gloat in her misery, he had merely established that he was getting his point across and he continued, seemingly unaffected by her unwavering wand still pointed at him:
“As l’ve already said – I’m here to live up to my promise to Ron and I don’t like to waste my time, so let me tell you a few things about myself, Granger, before you so recklessly take a right to judge me again.”
He paused for a second, as if what he was about to say wasn’t in tune with his character and then he spoke nevertheless, his voice quiet, but determined:
“I was raised to have no heart. I was raised to ignore it if it meant it could stand in a way of my ambition. I come from a long line of men who married the right person, made the right alliances, fathered a son, did what was expected of them, ruthlessly driving over any inconvenient inappropriate emotion they had in the process. And I tried so desperately to be that man, to be what my father, my family expected me to be. Ever had a sword of your parents’ ambition and expectation hung low above your neck? No? I didn’t think so. What your parents wanted for you was probably to be happy. And somehow you managed to fuck that up as well, so perhaps you do know how I feel after all…
Mine was the world of “do”s and “don’t”s, a constant struggle of keeping just the right balance, just the right appearance, making just the right alliances, all the right choices that were to ensure my proper place in the world I was born into. I’m sure I would have been properly content with it in time. Not happy. But content. And then a miracle happened. My miracle. Ron. A total chaos to my existence.”
Draco’s voice got so unexpectedly soft and warm, the light in his eyes changed to a much softer shade of silver and she suddenly caught a glimpse of the man Ron was seeing behind the perfectly polished exterior:
“Ron. Ronald. Even the name was all wrong. That is not a good pureblood name. Not in the least. But that’s all he’s about. He… from the very beginning he knocked down everything I was raised to believe in; he, in one person, was everything I was taught to despise: dirt-poor, not brilliant in any way, a son of a blood traitor, insecure - nothing about his name, magic or appearance worth remembering, keeping around or using. But I didn’t see him this way.
I saw fire. I saw passion. I saw life; beautiful, raw, untamed life I’ve never seen in anyone else before. I saw warmth I never knew. I was drawn like a moth into the flame to those blue eyes, I couldn’t get enough of the light in them, I had to keep seeing it, I kept coming for it like a man, dying of thirst, to the wonderful cool fresh water. My fingers itched to sink into that silken warm hair, glowing with its own flame, my fucking dick got hard just thinking about those treacherous freckles sprinkled all over him like stardust, hating them and loving them at the same time. And I was only 11 when I first had those crazy confusing feelings and I was so fucked up, so tied up in my own prejudice and upbringing that I couldn’t recognise them for what they were. I loved him from the day I met him and I never knew… I just knew I kept craving his presence and I told myself I hated him, it was my duty to hate him and make his life miserable. Surely, father would have wanted it. He hated the Weasleys, that man, he still does. So I kept hanging around him until one day, some time during that god-awful Triwizard Tournament, it hit me and I knew.
It was like a bludger to the stomach when I realized what I really felt and it devastated me. Of course, there was nothing I could do. He hated me and I hated myself for falling for him so foolishly, for being so bloody helpless. Believe me, I’ve tried everything to fall out of this love that could never be. In the end I ended up fucking anyone other than him, as long as they’ve spiked my interests - but somehow I always seemed to pick the ones that reminded me of him in this way or another. And I tried fucking him up at every opportunity just to give him a scent of my own feeling of helplessness and make him spill some of that boiling passion on me, whatever form it took. God, those times were cruel! Whoever goes about the school years being the best of one’s life must have been obliviated; I can’t think of three bright days in a row, can’t think of anything that would give me hope in those fucking brutal teenage years I fell into so unprepared! I have no idea how it would have ended, I as sure as hell didn’t have any way out of that bloody cycle of unrequited love and mutual abuse - and then the war happened…”
And suddenly the soft glow in his eyes was gone and it was as if a door to his soul has closed in front of Hermione’s very eyes, that’s just how dark and full of despair his grey orbs had suddenly become.
“Before I knew it, I found myself on the wrong side of it; victim of my parents’ lunatic ambition and my Aunt Bellatrix insane fixation on the Dark Lord and his power; hostage in my own home, the threat of harm being inflicted onto me a constant sword over my poor foolish parents’ necks, who realized much too late what monster they’ve aided to power. Hate my parents all you like, but even you can’t think they’d ever be purposefully dim-witted enough to support someone that would place the heir to the Malfoy line in danger – they just didn’t realize they had, until it was too late. Sometimes I think my mother might have had a hunch about it, but she was always a tad too ambitious and far too infatuated with my father to stop that man from pulling us all under. I can’t blame her. I know what love can do to one’s mind and heart.
I wouldn’t wish what I had to go through in those times on my worst enemy, not even on you, Granger. You’ve spent what? – 2 hours in the company of my lovely criminally insane aunt? – I’ve spent months in that house of horrors! The things I’ve seen… the screams I still can’t get rid off, echoing in my ears in the black of the night… the things I was forced to endure… the things I was made to do… all those people… helpless… faultless… screaming endlessly and then going still… over and over again… piles and piles of them, literally…
But nothing, absolutely nothing, none of the horrors compared even remotely to the moment when he embraced me… That man, that creature, the darkest of them all, defiled me with his embrace and when it all went black around me, I smelled the decay and the rot of hell… I thought I’d never get rid of that smell, I used to scrub myself raw and bloody for months to get that smell out of my skin and when I’m in the worst, I still smell it, smell him on myself… And the cold… I thought I’d never be warm again, not in this lifetime… I still sometimes wake up shivering, feeling his grave-cold bones close around me and squeeze all light out of me…”
Closing his eyes, he stopped abruptly, unable to continue, and Hermione’s wand tumbled to the ground. She never thought she could ever feel anything other than contempt and anger towards the haughty blond, but there she was, feeling downright sorry for the man. He was ashen white and tiny pearls of sweat shone on his upper lip - and suddenly he looked as old as grave. But then his eyes flickered open, silver glow in them unwavering, his look hard, grey and determined to go through with what he came here to say - and for the first time in her life Hermione Granger found appreciation for the Slytherin resilience.
“And all this time I was as far away from Ron as I could imagine. My mind was so dark back then I couldn’t imagine I’d ever see him again. I wouldn’t want to, not rationally, not under the circumstances I was forced to live in, if you can call such a miserable existence life. But my heart desperately craved it. It was in those times that I created a shelter you’ve glimpsed in my head. Surely, to you it might seem like a madman’s cave, like a work of a man possessed, but believe me, it was a life-saver. More by chance than knowledge I’ve stumbled upon a secret compartment adjoined to my bedroom – undoubtedly a safe haven for one of the previous heirs of the house.
I was desperate to get away from my crazy aunt whose greatest kink proved out to be making me torture the newcomers – and I’ve somehow triggered the door to the hidden place to open and no man alive was ever so happy to have found a shelter. When I figured out she couldn’t find me, no one could, actually, it seemed to be aligned only to work with the magic of the heir of the Malfoy line or some such rot, I spent my every free moment hiding inside of those walls. I knew I was expected at… certain activities… after all, meals in the Manor had become a very… eventful and equally horrifying occasion… but apart from that – I was gone. And it irritated my aunt to no end and it added line after line to my mother’s face, worrying about me like she did, not knowing where I was and which one of the deranged lunatics roaming the Manor I might be with – but I couldn’t tell her, I’ve seen with my own eyes how decomposing hours of prolonged torture can be to a person and I just couldn’t risk it.
That place… it was my only true home, my own tiny island of peace and sanity in the ocean of brutal madness I was lost at. So I made it into my little heaven, decorating it with everything my heart thrived in. It proved out to be him, Ron, only him. I had nothing else to hold on to. My mind went through a million scenarios of where he was and what he was up to; there was no end to my desperate dreams and wishful thinking, to my regrets of how I had treated him… it was all I had. I got myself a pensive and I’d watch my treasured memories for hours, sometimes laughing like a madman, sometimes howling empty tears into the echoing room… I’d spent hours in there and I even surprised myself how inventive I could be in collecting some of the stuff you’ve seen in my mind. You’re right – I was obsessed; after all this was the only thing that kept me clinging onto the life so miserable, I would have thrown in the towel time ago if it wasn’t for a thought of another thing I could get my hands on; just a tiny newspaper scraping about his presumed whereabouts one day, a piece of his Quidditch equipment the next – and it was enough to make me go on.
We do what we have to, to survive, Granger, I’m sure you can understand that part, and somehow my mind decided the only way for me to keep on going was to focus on Ron. And my heart followed gladly. Let it never be said that my obsession was not founded in love; I love that man past the upbringing I have, past the fact that we’re both men and something like this is unheard of in my world, past him being on another side of the spectrum of everything I was supposed to want and expect in life – I simply love him, I do.”
He looked her straight in the eye at those words and the truth in those silver orbs was undeniable. Draco Malfoy was without a doubt in love with her husband – and suddenly she realized she could not even hate him for it anymore. Instead her heart was almost sore with compassion for him, for everything he had endured - but she knew that as proud as he was, he would reject it fiercely if she ever attempted to bring it forward. So she said nothing, she merely nodded with a lump in her throat, but he didn’t even seem to acknowledge that, a look in his eyes suddenly so distant as if he was not really seeing anything besides the memories in his head, his voice uneven and rasp as if even remembering brought remnants of pain back into this moment.
“And then he came. The Snatchers had brought the lot of you into the Manor and he stepped out of my cherished dreams straight into the nightmare I was living - and it almost destroyed me. He looked at me across the room at one point, I’m sure he doesn’t even remember, but I’ll never forget… There was no hatred in his eyes for the first time since I’ve known him, just a desperate plea for help and it tore me apart like nothing else ever could. He wasn’t supposed to be there, none of you were, for fuck’s sake, but I only cared about him. The few hours you’ve spent in there were probably the worst in my life. My mind worked feverishly to find a way to get him out of there and every feeling I ever had about him, returned with a vengeance: I realized him I loved him so desperately I was willing to put myself in harm’s way to protect him and I had never before felt anything like that for anyone. Not even for my parents.
So when a chance occurred, I did the only thing there was left for me to do – I let Potter take my wand, rendering myself completely defenceless. I had to put up a show of fighting for it, of course, but even he must have felt that I was not doing it full-heartedly. Unfortunately, so did the Dark Lord and I was severely punished for that.
I was… damaged and ill for a long time after that and the one thing that actually saved my life was the fact that attendance to Hogwarts became mandatory to all pure-blood students and since the Dark Lord issued the order himself, he had to give into my mother’s pleading and let me go. That beast was all about illusions, so keeping up appearance of structure and order when really, there was nothing than chaos of his sick demented wishes – well, that became my life-line. I don’t think I would have survived much longer in the Manor, my aunt Bella was livid with me for having let down her worshiped Master and thus looked for every opportunity to harm me.
And that’s where our lives briefly collided again, Granger. The battle of Hogwarts happened and that part you know. But do you know what I remember best from it, other than being reunited with my parents? I got to see him, Ron, again. There he was, punching me in the face, screaming at me that you’d saved my life twice in a day - and where he hit me, my skin became so wonderfully warm as if he branded me with his fire, his passion and it was the first of warmth I felt since I first laid eyes on that foul dark creature that destroyed our childhood. It gave me hope there was salvation for me somewhere down the road, that there will once be a time when I will no longer be cold, alone, stuck in the shoes of a man I didn’t want to be, yearning desperately for someone I could never have. Because he looked at me, when he hit me, all boiling anger and contempt, but he acknowledged me like he only knew how and I knew that in spite of despising the very scent of me, he would never be indifferent towards me. And I chose to find even hope in that.
It gave me the strength to withstand the trial, the public humiliation, the festivities surrounding your, the Golden Trio’s double wedding and eventually picking up on the gossip that he was screwing Potter as well, the miserable mockery of marriage my beloved father inflicted on me – at least something good had come out of that, because I have a son now, Granger, and I love him fiercely.”
The bright smile that lightened the blond’s face at those words was such a rare occurrence that Hermione barely recognised the features underneath it – gone was the cold narrow face with harsh eyes she remembered from her youth, the smile had transferred his pretty face into that of a smart looking young man with light in his eyes and an unmistakeable expression of childish pride and unconditional love that might as well be her own when she talked about her children. Draco Malfoy undoubtedly loved his son and that love resonated through every word when he spoke about him.
“He is the sweetest thing on the planet and I intend to keep him that way. He is my little confidant, he’s the only one I ever introduced to the shelter I still keep at the Manor. You see, I can’t stand it to ever stay there, not over night at least – but I can’t deny my parents their role in bringing up their grandson, the heir to the Malfoy name. My wife is… incompetent, to put it lightly and for one, I trust my mother implicitly with raising my son according to my wishes – she knows very well I would walk away and never look back if they ever tried to raise him the way I was brought up. Her instructions on the matter are very clear and I have another… creature - well, I suppose you would call him a person – watching over my son, just in case my father got any bizarre ideas how the pureblood children should be raised properly. Trust me, I would find out immediately, I have paid for my lessons dearly.
But I would never be able to go near the Manor without knowing there was a shelter for me there; a safe-spot where I would be free of the bad memories should I ever suffer a flashback of all the horrors that took place there – unfortunately, in the years that followed the war, that was a common occurrence. So once during a particularly nasty episode of having a sudden onslaught of most unpleasant memories my son – my Scorpius - followed me to the room in question - and he was fascinated. You see, he’s also an heir and the room opened to him with no reservations. I told him this is the place daddy comes to dream and he didn’t question me. I told him stories about the boy on the pictures, legends really, about his horrible malfunctioning wand and the adventures he went on with his two best friends, the boy with the mysterious mark and the super-smart witch, and how he had nothing when he was little and became everything when he grew up – and I think its because of those stories he understands and knows me better than most adults do by now.
So one day he asked me, if the boy was ever real or if he only lived in the stories – which, in my humble opinion, is uncommonly astute for his age – so I told him that the boy was real and that he was no longer a boy, but a man now. Then he went on to ask me, how I knew all these stories and I told him knew him since he was a boy and his eyes got at big as the moon. The next thing out of his mouth was: Can he come and live with us? And it hurt, Granger. How on Merlin’s bloody earth was I supposed to tell him the man he came to idolize hated me?!
He loves that room and I think he might love the man it is about almost as much as I do. He can hardly go to sleep without a story of Ronnie and his friends, and one of their adventures. I think his favourite one is the story on how they saved daddy from the fire-dragon and he falls asleep with a smile on his face every time they conquer the beasts and the world is a safe place again. I can’t bear to think he would ever know any different. You might think me an imbecile for trying to protect my son from the world he will eventually have to enter and which will be none too gentle to the heir to a family of renown Death Eaters – but I don’t have a heart to break down his little Universe with a glimpse of reality, not just yet. I’m willing to do my best to let that boy keep his innocence and his dreams for as long as he can.
So I told him - ” Draco stopped, as if he was hesitating and when he finally looked at her, Hermione noticed that, surprisingly enough, there was a guilty look in his eyes . “I told him never to tell another person about that room and about that man, because daddy’s dreams could come to an end and we would never see that man again - but if he kept our secret long enough, the man from the stories would step out of my dreams once and come and live with us. And he can’t wait for that day, Granger; I know he can’t, because he asks me about it every night when I tuck him in. And every day I just wanted to hex myself for lying to him about it and giving him hope where there was none – right until my fortunes turned and I found myself in that corridor where with your husband and Potter snogging and my feeble plan was born. It was never much of a chance, but I’ve done my waiting, endless tiresome hopeless years of it, and I was desperate.
I don’t know how much of the rest you know, if you haven’t kept contact with Ron, so here it is, in a nutshell: They never stopped doing it - shagging, that is - Potter wouldn’t let Ron go – but he wouldn’t let go of his family either. So Ron finally had enough and tried putting some distance between them therefore he filed for transfer – and I made sure he got me as a partner instead. Of course Potter got livid and even more so when I managed to… persuade Ron, somewhat clumsily, I admit, that I practically worship the floor he stands on – well, not with these words, as you might imagine – and he agreed to a dinner with me. A very spectacular dinner you can read – oh, you have probably already read about in that impossible rag The Prophet is these days - except it’s all a bunch of crap, dictated by Potter. He followed us there, wife in trail, imagine that, and tried to secure Ron to himself, howling about me being a poisonous selfish bastard. Except when Ron made him choose with his wife on the edge of horizon, he didn’t come out as so selfless himself. He couldn’t do it and Ron knew it. So he chose me instead, kissed me in front of everyone and everything and I couldn’t wait, Granger, I couldn’t wait to be able to show the whole bloody world who it was that I longed for.
Now, that was yesterday and please don’t ask me if I used whatever potion or illegal charm on him to make him fall for me so fast, you’re far too intelligent for that. I guess there was just something underneath it, underneath all those violent emotions going back and forth between us for years, that did it for both of us and believe me, I wouldn’t have thought in a million years that my dreams would come true practically over night. I mean, I know I’m a catch, of course I bloody well am, even married and all – but Ron… he could have anyone he wanted and I’m as unlikely a choice he was ever going to make. He’s a bloody war hero; your - the Minister’s - husband and the Saviours best friend – and a fucking sex on two feet at that! I was… I’m still somewhat stunned by it.”
And his eyes showed it, Hermione couldn’t deny that. He had awe in his eyes, almost a childish disbelief and she never thought she’d ever say something like that about Draco Malfoy, but he looked almost innocent and certainly very vulnerable, when he spoke next, a barely detectable uncertainty lingering in his voice.
“I keep on thinking that perhaps I will wake up and this will all be just an elaborate wonderful dream that will leave me more empty and drained of hope than ever before. It wouldn’t be a first, I dream about him, about us all the time. But this… seems real, especially the part where the whole bloody world is against us. So… now you know and I still haven’t done what he sent me in to do – apologize.”
He looked her straight in the eye at these words, once more a proper Malfoy, stern face and unreadable grey eyes, and spoke:
“I hope that by now you understand why I did what I did and you should know that I fully understand what I’m taking from you. And for that – I apologize. If someone took Ron from me, the way I helped take him from you – I would have been livid and desperate and murderous beyond belief. There is no saying what I would do and most certainly an apology wouldn’t have stopped me from doing it. But you’re not me, Granger. Ron trusts you and your ability to understand and forgive beyond belief. You’re like a Saint in his eyes when it comes to showing support and compassion and though I’ll fully understand if you can’t stand the sight of me after today, I think he’ll be let down.
I think it’s too late to say that I don’t want any bad blood between us, but I would appreciate it if you learnt how to tolerate or at least ignore me, while he’s around, because I plan to stay around him for a very very long time, possibly forever. If he’ll have me. I’m a hard man to stick by and I come with a lot of baggage, my family, my reputation, my upbringing being just some of those – but I’ll do anything to keep that man. I know good stuff when I see it and men just don’t get any better than Ron.”
He finally said his last words and silence fell heavy between them. He still stared her straight in the face, shoulders stiff and chin up as if expecting a blow, looking so much like his father than she almost pitied him. He really couldn’t leave himself behind, could he, no matter how hard he tried.
“You’re right about that,” she finally broke the silence and made her wand fly back into her hand. “He’s the best there is and though harsh, there’s a lot of truth about what you’ve said today. Our marriage was doomed from the start because I couldn’t let him be enough. I always thought I was born to be more than just a wife – though that was never his purpose for me, it was his idea to stop at two children and go on with my career – and I didn’t see it, I didn’t see him, as important outside of our family. But he is, he… was. He was everything: my home to come to, my partner when I needed someone to back me up, a very good listener when I wanted to get something off my chest, my lover – well, I imagine at least you know that part by now, he is… exceptionally talented in that department, for all the clumsiness he had as a teenager.”
She smiled as the distant memory swept through her mind and before she realized, there were tears running down her face.
“Oh, bugger…” she whispered and turned around, unwilling to make a complete idiot out of herself in front of her husband’s – well, practically her ex-husband now – new boyfriend. But she was not able to stop, no matter how hard she tried. And when the long white fingers gently touched her shoulder and a handkerchief was pushed in the palm of her hand – she sobbed even harder. She cried for everything she had lost so foolishly and she cried for him, for Draco Malfoy and his sorrow, because he couldn’t… and she cried even for her hatred and anger as she had lost those as well and now there was nothing holding her together.
And not once did he attempt to hold her; a Malfoy to the bone, he just stood there and quietly waited for her tears to stop and there was a strange comfort, a strange point of focus and stability in that. For all that he had endured and all the damage he had done, he came to stand there in front of her, coming clean, fully aware of how much harm she could do to him, to them both – and she couldn’t help but admire his courage - or perhaps it was arrogance - that kept him together. For the coward little git he had been as a child, he became a man who could stand remarkably solid.
And she realized she would never fully understand the phenomenon that was Draco Malfoy. His perspective of the war chilled her to the bone, she knew there must have been unhealed damage left under that polished cool exterior - and yet he stood there, talking of it candidly, when so many couldn’t. She knew very well what strength of character that took, but then again, he was a Malfoy, perhaps his ability to stand tall in the face of misfortune was a given...
Except she had also caught a glimpse to another side of him, the one she would never associate with his family name and it came even more of a surprise to her than his solid core did: he had become a man who loved fiercely and for that alone he deserved Ron, he was the only one who did. Fire for fire – it must have rocked Ron’s world to find out how desperately desired and passionately loved he was – after all, that was everything he looked for in a person he wanted to share his life with. And Draco Malfoy was the one, she could sense that from where she was standing, even with her back turned against him. He had strength and resilience about him, but so did Harry and herself; what set him apart was his dedication to love Ron with no reservations. No “if”s and “but”s applied, he had put everything on the line to reach out to him and she didn’t have it in her to stand in their way. True love, wasn’t that all everyone yearned for? For all her sensibility, she was always a bit of a romantic.
And she wouldn’t put them through more hardship to get revenge, she was bigger than that. In comparison to what the Slytherin already went through – the war and all the desperate years of yearning for someone he couldn’t have - her broken heart just didn’t sound like much to whine about. At least she got quite a few years of happiness out of it and much her demise was her own doing. Of course, that hardly made it hurt any less. But she could overcome it – Ron was back in her life as her friend and the fact that he was making his lover apologize, was clear evidence that he still held her interest at heart. With him at her side, she could beat this and rise above it, perhaps even be happy once more, who knew? She had a life to rebuild and hating Malfoy would simply stand in her way of doing so. She wouldn’t risk losing Ron over trying to hurt his man. Besides - if she looked at the picture in the Prophet quite impartially: they did kind of look very cute together, didn’t they?
And of course, they would have it hard enough as it was; she suddenly realized she could not think of a single same-sex couple in the wizarding community at the top of her head, who openly lived together as such and a memory of Malfoy’s “unheard of in my world” suddenly surged through her mind, leaving an unpleasant feeling behind. How could she have missed it? In all her quest for all creatures’ rights – how could she have missed that there seemed to be no gay wizards and witches around? Surely, there were, there had to be, but they must have been forced to keep their preferences entirely to themselves in favour of procreation in the diminishing community they’ve become – Merlin knows if it wasn’t even illegal, some of the currently valid wizarding laws were literally straight out of the Middle ages! Something would have to be done about that, she’ll see to it as soon as Malfoy is gone.
Malfoy... She almost forgot about him in the excitement of the new project forming in her mind, but he was still standing there, looking at her with a curious look on his face. He must be expecting some sort of an answer, then. But before she managed to open her mouth, he spoke unexpectedly:
“I suppose we could say I owe you one and the way I see it, you are in bit of a public relation jam at the moment, so perhaps... would you care for an advice?”
That came as a surprise. But then again, the Malfoys were infamously slick when it came to handling unpleasant situations, so perhaps there was value in what he had to say.
“Go ahead, then,” she allowed, though not without caution in her voice. She might have come to terms with him being Ron’s partner of choice, but she would never be able to trust him fully. She also knew he would approve of her caution, he seemed to have a high opinion of her intellect after all.
“First of all, you needn’t worry. Skeeter’s article has got you the sympathy of the entire wizarding community. You are the betrayed wife, the nation’s heroine working hard for the benefit of the wizarding England – and you have been repaid most ungratefully for your efforts. If everything else fails, that is always one image you can fall back to. I know Ron. He will take his share of the blame and never speak of the part you had to play in the demise of your marriage. The chief part of the public scolding goes to me, of course... but I’m used to that, I can’t be bothered with attempts to gain public approval, never could be.
But you could do more. You needn’t be merely a cheated wife; you are in a unique position to place yourself above that and make a step further down the road of progress. In fact – it might even be expected of you, the way I see it. You are, without a doubt, the most progressive and reform-oriented Minister the English wizarding world has ever had throughout the history and this is your chance to make another mark. I was approached by a young man earlier, shyly expressing his support to my relationship with Ron, as well as his frustration in facing his own unwelcome feelings towards the same sex. He had nowhere to go, Granger, no one to talk to, because no one talks about these things. Everybody knows it’s there, but it’s as big a taboo as you’re ever going to stumble upon. Even the word to describe it is not there – “gay” has a far more traditional meaning in the wizarding world.
You are Muggle-born, perhaps you are unaware of that, but there is no place for gay wizards in our community, none out in the open. Of course, there are... activities, expertly masked under a cover of this establishment or another, but these aren’t accessible to everyone and some are downright seedy, a proper hunting grounds for all kinds of sexual predators. And you could be the one to change all that. You single-handedly changed the wizarding position towards the house-elves, why not this? I’m not asking that you support our relationship publicly, that’s entirely up to you and I don’t know if even your heart is quite that generous, but you could mention it, that besides leaving you hurt, the reason for the amicable parting of your ways with your estranged husband has also got you thinking... Thinking about change. And from there on, Granger, the world is yours. Do your magic, make it a better place.”
The small smug smile in the corner of his mouth did not really come as a surprise, but feeling her own mouth stretch out of its own accord to mirror it certainly came as a shock to herself. What a snake! He really knew how to play this game, didn’t he? And come to think he all but called her manipulative! She was almost sorry for Ron, forfeiting his life to this man, he might think himself in control now, but given time...
“You really are a smug slick bastard, Malfoy,” she managed and this time she saw his face split in a genuine biggest self-appreciative grin she ever saw on a living being. A cat having devoured a nest of mice could not have been happier with herself.
“One does one’s best, Granger,” he said, not even bothering sounding humble. “Are we good, then? Surely, Ron will want to know how it went and I would very much like your answer. I do not fancy hearing I didn’t try hard enough.”
“Oh, you did well enough,” she said quietly. “You can let Ron know your apology has been accepted. We might never be friends, Malfoy, there’s too much history between us for that, but I believe I can handle your presence... providing it’s not too often. Just promise, you’ll take good care of him!” she looked him in the eye and a single nod told her he had heard her and all the implications in her voice should he fail in that task.
With his hand already on the door-knob he turned around once more and looked at her solemnly:
“And Granger... thank you.” When he saw a surprised glimpse in her eyes, he said quietly: “I was never your biggest fan but I can’t forget you helped build the world in which my son is safe from blind hatred and mindless violence. And I never got to thank you for that, so I guess now it is as good a time as any, hence – thank you.”
And for some reason that sort of recognition from a haughty young man, who always acted as her better, created a lump in her throat.
“You’re welcome,” she said quietly and watched him leave. Ron could have made a worse choice of a partner. Much worse.
Once outside the door, Draco Malfoy leaned with his full weight on the door-frame. He was exhausted. The encounter with the bloody woman, making him face all his demons at once, had been draining. Only now he allowed the full shock of what he put himself through settle in and his hands began shaking so badly he rolled his eyes up at his own weakness and mumbled to himself: “Oh, for fuck’s sake, get a hold of yourself, Malfoy, or get a fucking job sugar-coating doughnuts!”
But he couldn’t deny how wretched he felt. He hadn’t expected it, having to give up so much of himself when he went in there, but this was for Ron and he was worth it. He had promised his best and let no one say Draco Malfoy did anything half-way when it came to keeping Ron Weasley happy. But now the ginger bastard owed him, he owed him big and he better make good on that promise he saw lurking inside those alluring blue eyes! And Draco would make sure he gets his payment. With interest. What good was it being a Malfoy, if you couldn’t squeeze ever last bit and then some of a mere Gryffindor! But right now, he needed to rest. The sleepless night, the turbulent morning – it had all caught up with him at once and he barely felt up to apparating all by himself. He was so tired he only managed to spare a fleeting thought as to where Ron was; surely the redhead would find him eventually, there were perks to having an accomplished Auror for a boyfriend. Right now, he needed his beauty sleep and he would get it; after all, he had to knock the breath out of that gorgeous bastard paying for his dinner!
~ End of Part 10/2 ~
Next: ( Choices, Part 11/1 )
See also:
( Choices, Part 1 )
( Choices, Part 2 )
( Choices, Part 3 )
( Choices, Part 4 )
( Choices, Part 5/1 )
( Choices, Part 5/2 )
( Choices, Part 6 )
( Choices, Part 7 )
( Choices, Part 8/1 )
( Choices, Part 8/2 )
( Choices, Part 9 )
( Choices, Part 10/1 )
