Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

The Senior Project	By : Lizski Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Lucius/Hermione Views: 37490 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 16
- 17
- 18
Chapter 16

Hermione sat in her bedroom, looking at the stone walls of her surroundings. Lucius had reversed the portkey, so that she could return directly to her room. She really needed to get ready for dinner, but she couldn’t bring herself to return to the commotion that was the Great Hall just yet. Lucius had asked her to stay for dinner, but Professor Dumbledore had been adamant about her returning to the school in time for the evening meal. It wasn’t that the headmaster was concerned about Lucius’ behavior, he just wanted things to appear as normal as possible, and while it was one thing to say that she had been excused from classes to help him with a special project, it would seem unusual for her to miss dinner.

She placed the book on her desk, and looked down at the index finger of her left hand. A small gold signet ring fit loosely on her finger, the coat of arms worn down from years of wear. Lucius had given it to her before she left. He had placed it on her finger ceremoniously. “I want to give you something of myself. Consider this a promise that I will take care of you and the child, regardless of what happens in the future.” She had shivered involuntarily at his words, although she acknowledged the underlying reality of them; he hadn’t responded when she had suggested it, but if Lucius did decide to talk to Dumbledore, he was risking his life. Of course, if he didn’t talk to the Headmaster, her own life, and the life of their child would likely be forfeit.

She twisted the ring on her finger, pushing these thoughts out of her mind, choosing to reflect on her day with Lucius. The time had really been too short. Especially since she didn’t know when she would have another opportunity to spend a day with him. He had, however, promised that he would visit her as often as he could, and that he’d owl her regularly.

She bit her lower lip. Gods. It all sounded so ordinary, and yet it all felt so completely extraordinary. She slipped the ring off her finger, considering putting it in her wardrobe, but stopped short. No. She didn’t want to leave this lying around. She wanted it with her. She went to her own jewelry box and pulled out a thin gold chain her grandmother had given her on her 16th birthday. She fed the chain through the ring, and hung it around her neck. Almost immediately, she felt better, as if Lucius were close to her. She just had to make sure that no one saw the chain.

Undressing, she took a shower, letting the water sluice over her body. Instinctively, her hands covered her abdomen, and again she recalled Lucius gently caressing her, his hands covering hers, protecting the child within. Lucius Malfoy. Who would have thought? And yet his care and concern did make more sense when put in terms of the 800 year Malfoy family history; the preservation of the family name being more important that ruling the world was interesting. And the way he made her feel. Circe! Her fingers brushed over her nipples, already becoming more sensitive because of the pregnancy.

Damn. Turning off the water, she stepped out of the shower, the ring banging against her chest as she dried herself off. She dressed quickly, wearing a turtleneck sweater and long skirt. She put her school robes on and took a breath. Her friends were going to have questions, and she was going to have to talk to them. Draco, too. She had to be direct with him. There was no other way. She quickly felt for the ring under her turtleneck before she reached for the door handle.

She entered the common room and saw Harry and Ron looking over the chess board. “Hey Herm! So what’s this deal you’re doing with Dumbledore? He said it was all hush-hush, but I can’t believe that you didn’t even say anything to us.” Ron’s voice was full of enthusiastic curiosity. Harry nodded, although she noticed that he was staring at her intently.

Hermione smiled weakly. “C’mon guys. You know I can’t say anything about it. That’s why it’s a secret project.”

Harry continued to study her. “But you haven’t said anything about it. Not even a hint.” His voice was quieter, more penetrating than Ron’s.

Shit. He was obviously working himself up to something. “I discovered something and the Headmaster asked me to look into. For the Order. I really can’t say any more about it, not right now.”

“And where did you come by this little piece of information, Herm? The Head Boy paying you in secrets?” the dark-haired wizard sneered.

Hermione’s breath caught in her chest. Bastard. Fuck you, Harry. Her mind struggled for a more brutal retort when Ginny mercifully interrupted.

“Harry James Potter. With an attitude like that, it’s no wonder no one wants to get into your trousers. You’ve obviously got a few things to learn about how to treat women. Of course it does also explain why the Boy-Who-Lived is also the Boy-Who-Has-Never-Gotten-Laid.” Ginny’s voice was scathing, and beginning to draw attention. Harry blushed deeply, trying to turn himself invisible. Hermione cast Ginny a grateful look, and Ginny smiled, motioning for her to come with her.

“C’mon. We’ll leave the boys. Let’s chat.” Hermione felt a gnawing pit in her stomach. Luckily the red-head lowered her voice as they walked down to dinner. “So tell me, how are things going with Snape? Any luck yet?“

Hermione shook her head. “No. I don’t think he’s all that interested in me,” she began hesitantly.

Ginny smiled knowingly. “He’s just a bit of a challenge. But sometimes the challenges are more fun in the long run.” The red-head licked her lips in a predatory manner that Hermione decided was extremely irritating. “We just need to figure out a way for him to see you as more than just a student.” He already does, Hermione thought, before tuning out Ginny’s scheming for a few moments. She replayed her images of a naked Lucius in her head, the contours of his muscles cast in deep contrast by the firelight while trying to remember to nod when Ginny’s voice paused.

Suddenly aware that the other girl was moving on to another topic, she forced her attention back to her. “Of course, there are other options, too. It seems like Draco is positively besotted with you. He even asked me today if I had seen you, and were you feeling okay?” The gnawing pit continued to grow.

Hermione smiled. “That’s sweet of him. I just wish that I, er…”

Ginny patted her arm affectionately as they entered the Great Hall. “Don’t worry, Herm. And who knows, maybe something will happen, and you’ll see Draco is your great love.” Hermione smiled feebly at her friend before she started to the Head Table.

Draco was already there, talking casually to Severus. He saw her approach, and broke off his conversation with the Potions Master. “Hello Hermione. How’s it going? Everything okay with you? I didn’t see you, and I was worried that maybe something, that, er, you weren’t feeling well.” Hermione smiled. Gods, Draco. Don’t hate me. Please. Not when I’m finally learning to appreciate you.

“Yeah. Everything’s okay. But, uh, do you have some time tonight? Like in the library or something?” This was going to be hard. But she had to tell him. It wasn’t fair to him to do otherwise.

“I’m going to be out in the greenhouse tonight – my senior project, you know. But you can come out there, if you want. Madame Sprout won’t be out there, so we’ll have some privacy.” He attempted a leer, and Hermione gave another shaky grin. “Are you sure everything’s okay? I mean, if you’ve got problems, you know you can turn to me. Friends, right?” His last words were soft and Hermione gave a more genuine half-smile.

“Yeah. Thanks, Draco.”

Dinner passed quickly, and she was able to surreptitiously tell the Headmaster that she’d talk to him tomorrow morning about her visit to Malfoy Manor. After the meal, Draco caught her eye, and she nodded. It would be better to just get everything out in the open. They walked out of the Great Hall together, to the greenhouse, where he donned a smock over his robes.

“What’s up?” Draco sat on the edge of one of the tables, and Hermione pulled over a gardening stool, the blonde’s eyes focused on her.

She took a breath, her mouth suddenly dry, her pulse hammering in her ears. “I, uh, went to see L-your father today. He’s been in contact with me a couple of times, and he invited me to come see him.”

“That son of a bitch. He’s not content to just leave you alone. He’s got to keep toying with you. That fuck head. That bastard! Son-of-a-fucking-bitch! That control-fucking-freak!” Hermione said nothing, watching as Draco threw an empty pot against the wall. He stared fervently at the shattered pieces, not raising his eyes to meet the witch. Moments later, he kicked a few of the larger pieces as he began muttering intelligibly. Still speaking softly, the blonde walked to the far end of the greenhouse. He fell silent and looked out the windows at the inky black sky.

It was several minutes before the wizard turned back to Hermione. He walked back toward her, stalling a bit as he fingered some of the plants on the center table. His eyes met hers, and Draco raised an eyebrow questioningly, his voice hoarse when he finally spoke, “How’d you get away? I mean, without Dumbledore knowing or anything?”

Hermione looked at the ground where the pot shards lay; Draco was obviously upset, but it wouldn’t help matters by drawing attention to it. “Um. Professor Dumbledore knew, actually. When Lucius,” she blushed suddenly, thinking how it must sound to Draco for her to be using his father’s first name, “When your father contacted me last week, he, ah, gave me some information about a Death Eater attack – the one that was supposed to take place in Tarporley. He, ah, told me about it in advance, and I told the Headmaster. Because of that, he let me go.” She looked back at Draco uncertainly.

“My father? Gave you information about a Death Eater attack?” He shook his head. “I can’t believe it. Are you sure it was him?” Hermione nodded. “He must have wanted to see you pretty bad to do something like that.”

Hermione nodded slowly. “Yeah. I think he did.” She paused, her eyes searching Draco’s face. “I’m sorry Draco. I really am. I went to him today. He asked to see me, and I, ah, I went to him. I wanted to.” Draco closed his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Draco opened his eyes again, a twisted grimace on his face. “And what did he do? Give you a quick toss, a pile of cash, and tell you to not darken his doorstep again?” The tone was malicious, and Hermione didn’t even have to look at the blonde to know that there was a sneer on his face.

“Um. No. Not really. I mean, there was a quick toss, and another, not-so-quick one, but no, it wasn’t like what you think. He’s different than what you think. You should talk to him sometime. I mean, really talk to him. He’s changed from probably how he was went you first came to school.”

“I doubt it. But he’s very good at getting people to think he’s changed,” Draco muttered softly.

Hermione chose not to ignore him. “That’s what I thought, too. I think that’s why he told me about the Death Eater attack. He wants to take care of the child. He wants to raise it – me too. I mean, he wants me and the baby to be with him.” She looked at Draco, hoping to find some indication of his current emotions.

Draco said nothing for a few minutes. “You believe him? He’s full of idle promises. He’ll leave you with nothing but empty vows. Trust me. And if you don’t believe me, look at my mother.”

Hermione swallowed; Draco’s mother was a topic that she didn’t want to confront at this point. “Yeah. I do trust him. I honestly do. Maybe he’ll screw me over. And maybe I’ll be left with nothing. But I like him. I mean, I really like him. And I think he’s different than what you might think. I’m sorry Draco. I really am. I cannot tell you how much your friendship, and your offer of betrothal means. Really, there aren’t words for it. But it’s not fair for me to not say something to you. It’s not easy, but I had to let you know.”

The blonde nodded, his eyes sweeping the greenhouse before coming back to Hermione. “I know. And I knew, I guess, that it wasn’t really going to happen.” His voice caught. “But I hoped that it would. That you could be happy with me.”

Hermione sucked in a breath, feeling like she had been punched in the stomach. “I’m sorry. I really am. I wish that I could change things. But I can’t. And I’m sure that you’ll find someone who can really appreciate you. Because you’re a great guy. And I don’t blame you if you want to take back your offer of friendship. I mean, er,” she paused, her thoughts racing, her words sounding artificial even to her.

Draco shook his head. “No. I don’t take it back.” He took a breath and smiled. “Not at all. Besides, if you’re wrong about my Dad, you’re going to need all the support you can get.” His smile got nastier. “After all, I don’t see Potty or the Weasel being very supportive when they find out that you’re carrying my Dad’s kid, especially when they learn that my Dad has ditched you.”

The punched feeling returned more intensely, and Hermione crossed her arms over her chest. She suddenly grew dizzy, her vision becoming spotty as the blood roared in her ears. She collapsed at the waist, her palm finding the bridge of her nose as she tried to regain equilibrium, not noticing that Draco had rushed to her side.

“Hermione? You okay? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I’ll stand by you, no matter what.” His hand rested comfortingly on her shoulder. “Really. I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

It was a few moments, and several waves of nausea later before Hermione heard his words. She stood up shakily. “Hey. I’m sorry. I’m here for you. No matter what my father does.” She said nothing, her stomach lurching a final time before she willed it calm. Taking her silence for anger, Draco continued. “Look, if he’s good to you, then I’m happy for you. And happy for him if you really can make him a decent human being – or at least less of a bastard,” the blonde added viciously.

The witch held her lips tightly together as she calmed her body. Finally feeling better, she met his eyes. “Thank you. And it’s me who is sorry. Sorry that I can’t be – that we can’t be – what you want. Because if anyone deserves to be happy, it’s you.” Her hand found his on her shoulder, and patted it comfortingly, before Draco slid his arm around her shoulders and drew her into a reassuring embrace.

“If all you can offer me is friendship, then I’ll take it gladly. Because the gods know that anyone who comes in contact with my father needs all the friends he or she can get.” Hermione glanced up at Draco, a serious tone emphasizing his words. “Really, Hermione. No matter what, I’m here for you. And not that I think you need any help, but if there’s anything I can do to help you with, er, him, let me know.”

Hermione said nothing, but tried to unsuccessfully blink the tears out of her eyes. Draco smiled again. “Besides, if I’m going to have a step-mother, I can’t think of a better one.” Still saying nothing, Hermione tightened her grip on Draco briefly before stepping away.

She shook her head slowly, a wry grin on her face. “Thank you, you smarmy bastard,” she replied, the smile in her eyes belying her words.

Draco smirked in response before becoming serious again. “Um. We need to talk, though. Some of my house-mates saw the owl from, uh, my father, yesterday, and they were asking me about it. They thought it came from me, and so, of course, a bunch of them were giving me a hard time about it. They, uh, wanted to know if I was, uh, you know.” He shrugged shyly, giving a rare blush.

Hermione giggled. “You mean they wanted to know if we were playing ‘hide the wand’, huh?”

Draco nodded, his innate haughtiness returning quickly. “Something like that. Except they weren’t quite so diplomatic about it. I mean, most of them don’t really consider Muggle-borns as on the same level as they are.”

“They’re right, we’re better,” she uttered sotto voce, noting that Draco tried to ignore her comment.

“Anyway, I told them that, uh, we were, er, I was,” he stammered

“Making me sit up and beg? Giving me what I deserved?” Hermione suggested helpfully, and Draco narrowed his eyes in a gesture that the witch recognized as one probably picked up from Lucius.

“Yeah. And I sort implied that you were my, uh, that you were at my service,” he continued weakly.

Hermione felt a surge of anger at his words, and immediately realized how ridiculous that response was; it would seem unusual to his friends if they suddenly appeared to be a loving couple.

“I wanted to let you know, so that if word got back to you – or to your friends – you’d know where that was coming from.”

She pursed her lips briefly, “Thanks for telling me, although I don’t listen to gossip too much. But I guess it doesn’t hurt to get a few rumors out. Especially if, uh,” she paused, still feeling uncomfortable at using Lucius’ given name in talking with Draco, “your father contacts me again. That’s a pretty distinctive owl.”

“Yeah. I don’t think my father is going to give that up, even in the name of subterfuge. That’s one of his affectations. One of many, I might add.” Hermione smiled in acknowledgement. Draco could probably fill in the gaps of Lucius’ personality that the portrait gallery might have missed, but he’d certainly have his own view of things. Especially since it seemed like Draco bore more than a little dormant hostility toward his father. Understandable, but it was still there. Of course, the Head Boy wouldn’t be the only one with a little anger. Harry and Ron would freak out when they heard the rumors – if they hadn’t heard them already.

“Harry’s going to go nuts when he hears the rumors.” She couldn’t lay this on Draco; he’d done so much for her already that she couldn’t expect him to deal with Harry, too. “Look. I’ll take care of him.”

Again Hermione noticed traces of Lucius in Draco, particularly in the air of aristocratic superiority that the young wizard quickly conjured. “Don’t worry about me. I can take care of Potty and his side-kick any day. In fact, it would be a pleasure to put him in his place – and I’m sure that my House Master would understand perfectly. He’d probably even give me house points for it,” Draco taunted.

Yeah, Severus probably would love it. “I don’t doubt any of that. But let me talk with Harry and see if I can keep him from doing anything stupid.” She noticed the blonde’s look of incredulity, and fought off a defensive retort. Obviously old habits died hard.

“Don’t worry about it.” Draco grew suddenly quiet, his composed façade beginning to show cracks. “Hermione, would you mind leaving me now? I need a little time.”

“Yeah, sure. And thanks for everything, Draco.” She turned and quietly left the greenhouse, a wave of sadness washing over her.

****

Lucius frowned at his empty dining room. He had hoped that Hermione would have been able to stay for dinner, but it wasn’t to be. It would have been nice to have continued the fantasy of a happy family for a little while longer. Because all it could be was a fantasy. It was easy to tell her that Voldemort had to be betrayed. It was a completely different issue to do something about it. And it was completely unrealistic.

‘Talk to Dumbledore.’ Her words echoed in his head meaninglessly. The wizard was an old fool whose time had come and gone decades – if not centuries – ago. If the man hadn’t been able to protect children at a highly fortified castle then there was no chance that he’d be able to take on Lord Voldemort. It would be suicide to go to Dumbledore. Merlin’s rags. What had seemed to be a simple solution hours ago was becoming more enveloped in shadows by the minute. He headed to the sideboard and poured himself a large brandy.

****

Hermione walked slowly back to the Gryffindor tower. She knew Draco was more hurt than he was trying to show, but it was inevitable. It still didn’t make her feel any better. A sudden surge of depression swept through her at the realization that her one true friend was angry with her. The one person she could trust.

She shook her head at the thought. Draco Malfoy. Who’ve thought that Draco would be the person she would feel most comfortable with? And yet it was true. She couldn’t talk to Ginny – at least not really talk to her – the conversation about Draco looking like his father had confirmed that. And she really didn’t have any other female friends. Lots of acquaintances, but she had never really bonded with the girls that she knew – sitting around talking about makeup and clothes was only slightly more interesting than listen to Ron and Harry talk about quidditch. And actually, sometimes those two discussions weren’t all that different. Ron’s discussion about the latest colors of the Chudley Cannons’ jerseys sounded a lot like Parvati’s analysis of the trendy hues of the season, and Harry’s interest in the use of eye black grease was much like Lavender’s instructions on the proper usage of eye shadow. She giggled at the thought, knowing full well that none of her acquaintances would find the comparison funny, if they saw it at all.

She sobered suddenly. Harry. She wasn’t positive that he had seen her leave the Great Hall with Draco, but there was a good chance of it. He had been watching her like a hawk since she had come back from Hogsmeade with the Slytherin. And no doubt he would be waiting for her in the common room when she got back to the tower.

Hiding out in the library wasn’t an option. She’d have to deal him at some point, and past experience had taught her that it was better to do it sooner rather than later. Squaring her shoulders, she strode purposefully to the portrait of the Fat Lady.

As she had suspected, Harry was sitting in the common room glaring at the chessboard, Ron, the fire place, and any place else that wasn’t his Transfiguration homework. He practically leaped out of his chair when Hermione entered the room.

“Herm. Now. We have to talk.” His expression wasn’t pleasant as he grabbed her arm.

“Fine. But not here.” She looked around the room, where other Gryffindors were actively trying to focus their attention elsewhere. “The Room of Requirement.” Harry nodded, and the two left the common room in uneasy company.

They made their way to the door, and Hermione turned the handle. She looked around as she walked in, surprised to see that the room was decorated in the style of a Muggle living room, with faded print wall paper, a worn, clashing Oriental carpet, and several pieces of furniture from the Post War era. Interestingly, one of the arm chairs was covered in a solid dark green upholstery, while the couch and other arm chair had a red and gold weave pattern. She took the green chair, and wondered about the mindset of a room that thought that this would be the best setting in which to have an argument.

Harry followed her in, but didn’t sit down. “Alright, Herm. Tell me. Now. What’s going on between you and Malfoy? And don’t lie to me.”

She looked coolly at her old friend. “First, promise that nothing we say leaves this room.”

Harry said nothing for a moment. “Promise, Harry. You can’t say anything to anyone.” Reluctantly, he nodded.

“I promise.”

“There is nothing going on between Draco and myse-“

“Bullshit, Hermione Absolute bullshit. I know there’s something going on between you two. I know all about your little outing to Hogsmeade, and about all your late night conversations-“

“Those are called ‘rounds’ , Harry.”

“And your little assignations in the greenhouse. Ginny’s told me all about you wanting to get together with Malfoy, you know. And I’ve heard the stories. About how you’ll do whatever that bastard wants, whenever he wants it,” the dark-haired wizard continued, ignoring Hermione’s pointed stare.

“Fine, just fine. You clearly know everything that’s going on, so why even bother to ask me? I mean, you seem to know at least as much about my life as I do,” Harry gave a superior smile. “So, I’m assuming that you know that I’m pregnant,” Harry’s face fell, “and that you know who the father is.” Hermione gave her own satisfied smile.

It took Harry only a few moments to recover. “That bastard? Malfoy? How could you, Hermione? How could you let that slimy little git touch you, let alone, er…” The wizard was at a loss for words again. “”I’m going to kill that freak.” He turned his back to her, his anger evident.

In for a penny, in for a pound. She smiled sweetly. “No you’re not. Besides, you’ve got the wrong Malfoy.”

Harry rounded on her immediately. “Wh-wh. What the hell are you talking about? The wrong Malfoy? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Hermione’s mouth went dry as her hands reflexively covered her abdomen. “Draco’s not the father of my child. Lucius is.”

Harry sat down before he spoke again. “Lucius Malfoy? Gods, Hermione. Did he hurt you? Are you okay? When did it happen?”

Jupiter be damned. He thought Lucius had raped her. Of course he did. This was the hard part. “I’m fine, Harry. He, ah, he didn’t force me.” Mab’s knickers. There. She’d said it.

“What do you mean, Herm, ‘he didn’t force you’?”

She couldn’t tell him about Severus, too. That would send him completely off the deep end. “He didn’t force me. I was with him willingly. I-”

“How could you do that?! What the hell were you thinking? Why the hell would you do something like that? And don’t your dare try to tell me that Dumbledore has something to do with this, because I won’t believe it for a moment.”

Was it some sort of chromosomal kink that made men attack before they had even stopped to think about the information that was presented to them? “It wasn’t exactly planned, Harry. It’s not like I went to the Ministry one day and said ‘Excuse me, Lucius? Would you like to rent a room for a few hours and go make the beast-with-two-backs?’ We encountered each other a few times, discovered that we had some mutual interests,” Harry snorted angrily, “and it went from there,” Hermione continued forcefully.

“’Mutual interests’? Meaning he wanted to fuck you. How did he do it, Herm? How did Voldemort’s right hand man seduce the Head Girl of Hogwarts? A Muggle-born, at that? What did he have to do to get you to go with him?”

Hermione actively tried not to roll her eyes at Harry’s rash judgments. “Actually, I seduced him. I found him attractive, intelligent, well-mannered, and cultured. Somewhat different from the choices here, I might add. I figured that if I was going to lose my virginity, it might as well be to someone who knew what he was doing, and who would have slightly better manners than to try for a quick tumble in the Astronomy tower.” True, it was the dungeons, and she didn’t know that it was Lucius she was seducing at the time, but Harry really didn’t need to hear that.

“He clearly didn’t have the manners to use any protection, though, did he?” Harry sneered.

“Ah. I sort of caught him off-guard.” She blushed, thinking about her terror when Severus transformed into Lucius. “And it was, ah, too late, er, later.”

“And so you’ve decided to have the child? Why? And how do you plan on doing this? Or is that what Draco’s for? You seduce him, so he thinks the kid is his, while you chase after his father? You’re sick.”

Hermione’s laughter bordered on the hysterical. “Is that what you really think of me, Harry? Some sort of conniving sexual predator?”

He looked away from her again. “I don’t know. I thought I knew you. Now it turns out that I know absolutely nothing about you. You sleep with Lucius Malfoy, you’re carrying his child, and you think that Draco’s is a decent human being. There is something seriously wrong with you. And I don’t know you at all. I can’t even help but wonder if this really is you.”

“Thanks for your confidence,” she started dryly. “If you’d shut up for a few minutes, I’ll tell you the whole deal. Just remember, nothing can leave this room. I mean it.” She paused, waiting for Harry’s consent.

“No fucking way. You’re nuts, and I don’t care what you have to say. You willingly slept with someone who is directly supporting the person who killed my parents. And there is no excuse for that. I don’t care what you do. You can go fuck all of Slytherin if you want. I don’t care. Because I don’t want to have anything to do with you. We’re done.” He stood up angrily.

Damn him. “Fine. If that’s how you feel, then leave. Get out of here. Just remember that you’re bound by your promise – nothing you’ve heard here leaves this room.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t say anything. I wouldn’t dare. There’s no way I want people to know how you’ve betrayed us. And Dumbledore’s Army,” he added darkly.

“Leave.” She swallowed hard, hoping she wouldn’t cry before he left. Luckily, he left the room without a backward glance.

Hermione reached for a box of tissues that she found by the chair, the tears streaming down her face.

~~~~

A/N: Sort of an angsty chapter here – but let’s face it, it was time for Hermione to talk with Draco, and it was also time for Harry to show that he can be a full-blown jerk when he wants to be. Also, be forewarned, the next couple of chapters will also be sort of angsty, but I think it’s necessary for the plot.

As always, reviews are the sustenance of the muses, and while it may take me a while to update, I haven’t give up! Thanks to everyone who has been reading/enjoying this!
- 16
- 17
- 18
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

The Senior Project