Hope Only Gets A Man So Far
“Mother, you can’t do that! It’s not fair!” Draco fumed, both hands indicating down to the table. He had his back to Hermione, who stood wide eyed in the doorway staring at the back of his head.
“Now now Draco, I have to do what is in the best interest of me and mine.” Narcissa stated patiently.
“You and yours?! You’re going to ruin everything I worked hard for!” Draco continued.
“Hello Miss Granger. Is everything okay?” Narcissa asked as Draco followed her line of sight and spotted her watching him. He shot up out of his seat and stood in front of her.
“Has something happened? Are you okay?” He asked. She felt the emotions through the ring shift to something between rage and panic as he looked at her wild hair and eyes.
“I should ask you the same thing.. What’s happening here?” She asked as she looked down at the table. There was some kind of board game set up, she didn’t know what it was, and she began to process what she had heard him say. “You’re playing a board game?! Draco, you’re a sour loser?”
“You don’t have any shoes on..” He observed, Hermione rolled her eyes.
“Well, no. Because I panicked and came straight here, are you really this riled up over a game?” She shook her head.
“He’s always been like it.” Narcissa stated with a wave of her hand. “He fails to take into account other people’s intentions when he sets his plan in motion.” Draco gave her a pointed look before offering Hermione a drink and excusing himself to the bathroom. “He told me about the ring. You felt something bad happening and you ran towards it?”
“I needed to make sure that he was safe.” Hermione confirmed.
“As his sponsor?” Narcissa’s gaze felt invasive, as if trying to find fault with her.
“And as his friend.”
“Is that what you are? Friends?” Narcissa shifted in her seat, her gaze unwavering. “After everything?” Hermione felt uncomfortable, she hadn’t expected to be scrutinised like this.
“I think if anyone in this world deserves a friend that will come for him when he needs them, it’s Draco.” She straightened her posture.
“And that’s you, is it?” Narcissa asked. Hermione nodded once in response, which earned her nothing more than a pinched expression. Draco rounded the entrance to the room, he hesitated for a moment as he assessed the situation between them.
“Can we speak for a moment?” He took hold of Hermione’s arm and moved her out of the room softly before closing the door behind them. “I’m sorry about that, I didn’t mean to worry you.”
“It’s okay, I’d rather come and not be needed.” She led the way to the door, wanting to leave them be. “I am here though, if you do need me.” They looked at each other for a moment before he lifted his chin.
“You read it didn’t you?” He asked.
“Some of it.” She stepped towards him slightly. “Thanks for the otter.” His eyes lit up.
“He has a name you know.” He smiled, urging her to say it. She laughed as she did, and he laughed too. “He’s a very distinguished gentleman.”
“Right..” She chuckled. “Yeah, well, I’ll see you tomorrow. To bring you back home.” She saw something in his expression change.
“Home.” He said softly before opening the door for her and watching her leave.
Draco returned to the dining room to find his mother putting the game away with an unreadable expression on her face. He knew she was formulating the right thing to say, and he knew it would be a criticism of some kind, he just wasn’t sure what form it would take. He offered to help, and she declined, so he just stood by, waiting. Eventually she stopped.
“She’s grown into a lovely young woman.” Narcissa started. Draco made to reply but she held up a hand to stop him. “But she still bears the scars of this family. They were and always will be the first thing I see when I look at her. So, tell me, why would a woman that was carved up on your drawing room floor let you stay in her home?” She wanted him to respond this time, but he struggled to find the words. Instead, he just shrugged.
“Because she’s Hermione Granger. And she’s better than we were.” He offered. Narcissa stared at him for a long moment.
“I know about her books. Did you know there’s an excessively large fan base?” She watched as he shook his head. “No. Well, there is. And they’d just love for her to release more books. Some want the history of Hogwarts; some want more on the first wizarding war. But many, Draco, want your story. So be careful there. Don’t let her take your life and turn it into a circus.” She walked to the kitchen, and he followed closely behind, she took a file of papers from a drawer and handed them to him. “I looked into her and who she is now when I found out she’d sponsored you, this is everything I found.” He refused to take them.
“No. No, she’s not like that, she’s my friend. We’ve been there for each other.” Draco tried not to get upset, lest she storm back into the house to a real argument.
“Oh, please. You barely know each other. I will not let some muggleborn low life use my son.” She thrust the file at him again, and once again he refused.
“Why can’t you just let me have this?” He cried. “For the first time in my life I feel like I have a friend! Someone that I can trust, and I feel like she’s beginning to trust me too..”
“She isn’t your friend Draco, she’s just some girl you barely know and she’s using you!” Narcissa continued to assert her thoughts on the situation. “Just read the documents!”
“No!” He took the file from her and threw it at the wall. She didn’t flinch, she just lifted her chin and huffed an indignant breath.
“Fine. Do not say that I didn’t warn you.” She left the room with more grace than she felt capable of at that moment. He looked down at the mess that he had made, sighing before picking it all up. His eyes fell upon a transcript from a Radio station that Hermione appeared on.
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Interviewer: So, how exactly does one come up with a story like this?
Hermione: Well, to me all of these characters are very real, I have experienced what they did alongside them. [pause] As I was writing it of course.
Interviewer: We hear so much about the main characters and their struggles, will we ever hear anything from the fan favourites that linger in the background? The Marauders, for example?
Hermione: Maybe. All of these characters have very complex backstories, I wouldn’t want to make them up on a whim just to please the readers. These characters are very real to me, and I would want to do their stories justice.
Interviewer: And what about a certain aristocratic white-haired boy, the fan favourite of them all?
Hermione: [laughter] Well, he wasn’t written to be a fan favourite but the discussions surrounding him have given me a lot to think about. I think he’s as misunderstood as they perceive him to be. I’m not sure that I could do his story justice, but maybe one day he’ll want it to be told.
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There were pages upon pages of similar interviews, magazine articles and such like, Draco felt slightly nauseous. Had this all just been a ploy to get his story? And, like a fucking idiot, he had given it to her before he left. He slammed the stack down on the kitchen side and leaned over them, resting his forearms on the counter as he continued to read. Did he really think he was worthy of anything more than this? He sighed as he realised that, no, he didn’t. He felt the overwhelming ache in his chest that he’d only ever felt when he was at his most lonely points in life. He hadn’t even realised he was crying until a tear made the ink run on the page he was currently reading. He watched the ink swirl as he began to taste his own salty tears on his lips. How could he have been so naïve as to think she really cared about him? He hadn’t employed a single ounce of critical thinking skills to the situation, he’d just trusted her, she was supposed to be the good one. The kind one. But he knew he didn’t deserve her kindness. He’d known that from the start. Which made him ache more.
He heard Narcissa step back into the room, she’d almost reached him when he lifted the pages and threw them in the bin. She tried to reach for him as he passed her, but he swerved past her hand. He didn’t speak to her for the rest of his time in the house, he didn’t have anything to say to her. He simply sat and read, waiting for Hermione to fetch him. When she arrived on the garden under the oak tree, she waited, giving him time to say goodbye on his own terms. His mother stood in the doorway, and he obligingly hugged her, and she begged him to speak to her.
“You got what you wanted, mother. I’m once again alone, surrounded by enemies, and you’re not there. Let’s just hope that this time, I don’t have to murder someone.” He didn’t look at her as he said it, he didn’t care if his words hit their mark. But they did all the same. He stepped over the grass to Hermione, who took his hand and apparated them away.
Draco let go of her hand and immediately went to his bedroom. Hermione decided to give him space, she knew that he’d be emotional after leaving the house, she’d expected it. Instead, she sat on the sofa with Ginny, who had arrived moments before she was due to fetch Draco, desperate to discuss summer plans for before the baby arrived. They’d decided to invite everyone to rent a rather extravagant house in the southern most tip of England, close to the beach with a private swimming pool. Everyone agreed to it, some stating they’d feign illness if they couldn’t get the time off from work.
They’d arrived back at 1.05pm and he still hadn’t emerged from his bedroom by 7. Ginny had left and Hermione was feeling lonely, so she knocked on the door and was greeted with silence. She creaked the door open slightly, he was on his back, staring at the ceiling on a barely crinkled bed. Alarmingly still.
“Draco?” She asked softly. “Are you okay?”
“Fine.” He responded. She breathed a sigh of relief.
“I made dinner..” She offered.
“I’m fine.” He said sharply.
“You should eat..” She frowned at him.
“I said I’m fine.” His tone was penetrating.
“Have I missed something?” She asked. He rose from the bed immediately and walked past her as he responded.
“Far be it from you to miss anything, Granger. You have what you wanted, so I’ll stay out of your way.” He went down the stairs, missing the step that Edgar was on. She followed him, how could she not.
“Did I do something to upset you? I thought..” She didn’t finish her sentence before he turned on his heels to look at her from the kitchen doorway.
“You thought you’d move me in here to get my story for another book of yours. I know what you thought. You made me trust you and I handed it over before I even knew you were after it. Well, you’ve got it now so quit the bullshit and stop pretending to care about me.” He picked up his plate of food as she stood staring at him in shock. “Thank you for my dinner. Leave the pots. I’ll clean them later.”
He walked past her and into the dining room, sitting with his plate of food staring out of the window. She couldn’t think of a single word to say to him, instead she took a wrapped box from the coffee table and placed it in front of him.
“This is for tomorrow.” She felt sad in a way that she couldn’t explain when he looked up at her. “Happy birthday.” His conflicted expression hurt her further, she should have known that Narcissa would do or say something to cause friction.
“No, thank you.” He muttered as he passed it back to her. “I don’t want it.”
“I have no use of it, it’s specifically for you.” She pushed it back to him.
“I don’t want it.” He was stern enough to make her stop for a moment before taking it off of him and unwrapping it. She placed the item inside of it in front of him and watched his expression change again. His chest sagged as he breathed out, it was a photo album of his own. Black leather with his initials in the bottom righthand corner, beautifully crafted, he flipped it open and saw his own face smiling back at him. He was wearing his school robes, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. All of the tension left his body, and he sat back in his seat. The next page held him and Pansy, he had his arms around her, and they were both grinning like idiots. There was one of him in his quidditch uniform; sitting with Blaise and Theo by the black lake; dancing at the Yule Ball; with his mother in a garden full of roses. On the last page that held an image, there was a still photograph, taken on a muggle camera the first night he went out to meet everyone. It was of the two of them, his arm casually slung over her shoulder, hers around his waist, and they were laughing to each other. He closed the book and sighed loudly.
“I’ll burn those pages you gave me before I give you the dishonour of telling your story for you.” He looked up at her, visibly upset but trying to hold it in. She laid a single finger on the book. “I know you look at mine, so I wanted you to have your own.” She turned and left the room, only making it two steps out before he took her by the arm and pulled her into him.
“I – I’m – ugh – I don’t know what to say.” He sniffed as he held her close to him. “I’m sorry. And thank you.” She rubbed her hand up and down his back, knowing that he was seeking comfort rather than forgiveness right now.
“Don’t thank me, it was Barry Trotter’s idea.” She mumbled into his chest. His shoulders started hitching, she thought he was crying until she looked up. He threw his head back and laughed like she’d never seen before. She couldn’t help but laugh along with him, at him, every time they made eye contact. They’d all but fallen on the floor by the time they managed to calm down, Draco let out a long loud breath as Hermione wiped tears from her face. They were swimming in the dregs of laughter when they made eye contact again, but this time the giggling didn’t start afresh. Draco reached out and took her hand, but she spoke first. “It must be difficult to believe my intentions here are pure, but I swear to you they are.” He nodded.
“Be the change you wish to see in the world.” Draco ventured. She nodded back. He stared down at her, expression soft, as he searched her face intently. As if trying to commit it to memory. He leaned closer to her, and she felt lightheaded as he reached out and tilted her face upwards. Time stopped in that moment, as she saw what the others had witnessed all along; the way he had been looking at her. He leaned into her, his nose brushing hers slightly.
The front door jostled and opened before he could get any closer and she would swear she heard him growl slightly as he moved away. Theo and Luna stepped inside and came face to face with them both, they looked alarmed to see them stood there. Theo’s eyes flitted between them before a smile grew on his face.
“Evening.” He drawled. “Hope we’re not interrupting anything.” He broke into a stride and walked between them into the kitchen and placed a bag on the worktop. “Have you told Draco about our little holiday yet?” She hadn’t had chance, so they filled him in together. “It’s basically a week of drinking, swimming and..” He looked between them both again. “Shagging, if you’re lucky.”
Both Hermione and Draco turned away from each other slightly, pointedly looking at the floor. Luna continued to chatter about anything and nothing, so Draco decided to start cleaning the pots as they spoke. Hermione hadn’t seen them interact much, but it was clear they had considering how easily they spoke to one another. She leaned against the cabinets, watching Theo open a bottle of wine and serve up four glasses. She glanced over to Draco and caught him looking at her for the first time. He smiled shyly as he averted his gaze.
They made their way through to the living room; Luna noticed the new crystal ornament immediately and began asking about it. Which led to Draco and Hermione folding into each other with laughter again.
“His names Barry.” Draco chuckled. “Barry Trotter.”
Theo and Luna shared a knowing look.