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Unstoppable	By : Thunderbird Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 14474 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any affiliated characters. I make no profit from this story.

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A/N: I know it's been forever guys! I'm sorry. Life has been a crazy whirlwind this summer. But it's finally winding down and I have a lot more time to write. Updates will be happening a whole lot faster.
It didn't help that I also rewrote this and changed some of my original plan for the chapter. It just wasn't working. I hope this works better. Anyway, as always, let me know what you think! I promise I will be able to produce a lot faster in the upcoming months.
Thanks, as always, to those who have stuck with this and especially to those who reviewed! To the couple of you who also reviewed SMN last month and had some questions, I have responded to you as well at the bottom of this chapter. I have no idea if you'll see it, but I thought I'd give it a shot!
Chapter 28: Stories
(Hermione)

“Hold still a moment, dear.”
Hermione did as she was told, trying not to flinch as measuring tape, scissors, and pins went to work of their own accord all around her. She could never get used to magical fittings for clothing, what with all the charmed and potentially sharp things flying here and there, unseen. She was always convinced she was going to get poked.
Madam Le Roux finished pinning the bust of Hermione’s gown and the brunette was allowed to move her head and neck again as the tailor set to draping the skirt. Hermione glanced to her left, where Vesper stood on another platform, enduring her own fitting for her silver “groomsmaid” gown.
“A perfect way to spend a Saturday afternoon, isn’t it?” the Junior Auror joked, throwing a smile Hermione’s way.
Hermione laughed, which earned her a dirty look from Madam Le Roux. Hermione resisted rolling her eyes and let the woman work, holding herself as still as she could.
“How are you planning to wear your hair?” Vesper asked her. “Down, or will you do some sort of updo?”
“I’m not sure,” Hermione said. “I haven’t really thought about it.”
“Well, your hair would be pretty down, with a barrette or a comb or something, because it’s already interesting. My hair is just boring. I should do something fancy with it but I don’t know anything about doing hair.”
“Nor do I,” Hermione said. “I suppose neither of us are the most feminine of women, when it really comes down to it.”
“No, I guess not,” Vesper agreed.
They were silent a moment as their respective tailors worked.
“No doubt Narcissa will have an opinion,” Hermione said. “We’d be better off asking her.” Narcissa had an opinion about everything to do with this wedding, and she appeared to be seeing to every possible detail and, of course, sparing no expense. The fabric for Hermione and Vesper’s gowns, for example, was a special textile of acromantula silk dyed silver-gray and charmed to sparkle like the evening sky. The fabric was called Starlight and was, by Hermione’s estimate, over one hundred galleons a meter. Hermione didn’t know exactly how many meters of fabric were required to make the dress, but whatever it was the garment was likely the most expensive thing she would ever wear, second only, perhaps, to her own wedding dress.
“That’s a good point,” Vesper said. She considered a moment. “Maybe she’s hired someone to do our hair. That would be a load off my mind.”
“I wouldn’t put it past her,” Hermione replied drily. Narcissa Black was undoubtedly in the “why do something yourself if you could hire someone to do it” contingent of people – in other words, the very, very wealthy. Hermione had always been raised to think the opposite. Her parents had encouraged her to be independent from a young age, and know how to do things for herself so she didn’t have to rely on someone else to do it for her. She was generally glad for it. Her independent streak had always served her well.
Though it did have its down sides.
Hermione shook her head and focused back on the fitting, as Madam Le Roux now wanted to know about length of the skirt and what shoes she was planning to wear. Hermione answered her questions and tried very deliberately to drive any thoughts of her parents from her mind. She spent enough time these days thinking about them as it was, since she was visiting them at least once a week and keeping a close eye on their treatment.
Her father was progressing nicely; he was now able to speak, though he gave primarily one-word answers. But Jean Granger’s treatment wasn’t going very well. Progress had been stalled for a while, though Hermione knew the Healers were doing everything they could. But they had hit a wall they didn’t know how to scale. Hermione’s mother could speak, but she still had no idea who she was or who anyone else was, and she didn’t seem to have much short-term memory either. Every time Hermione visited she had to remind Jean of who she was, and Jean never seemed to understand.
It was incredibly frustrating, especially since Hermione had also hit a wall with her own research. She kept hoping for a breakthrough, some strike of inspiration that would wake her in the night and make her realize what she had to do. But nothing had come, and she had so little time to spend on it, what with her job at the DTF and caring for Ron, that any headway she was making was virtually negligible.
Stop thinking about it, she reminded herself. It didn’t do any good.
“All right, you’re done,” Madam La Roux said.
“Really?”
“Yes, really. Lift your arms, please.”
Hermione did so as the other witch waved her wand, and that sparkling silver dress slid up and over Hermione’s head, the luxurious silk slithering pleasantly across her bare skin. Hermione, now in only her slip, murmured thanks to the tailor and then made for the changing rooms to redress.
“I shall sew the garment and inform Ms. Black when it is ready. You will need to come in for a final fitting after the holidays.”
“Great,” Hermione said with a small smile. She was quite glad for it nearly to be done.
Vesper was finished only a few minutes later, and the two women walked out of the shop together.
“Do you want to grab a drink?” Vesper asked her. “Or do you have get back home to Ron?”
Hermione looked at her watch. It was perhaps a bit early for a drink, at least for her, but she thought she could rather use one.
“A drink would be great. Harry and Teddy have been with Ron this afternoon so he’s fine. He won’t mind. He’d probably like more time with his best mate anyway.”
“Great,” Vesper said with a genuine smile. They walked down Diagon Alley and found a pub that was quiet and mostly empty. Vesper ordered a double of Ogden’s and Hermione a glass of mead, and the two witches found a table in the corner.
“How is Ron doing, by the way?” Vesper asked after taking a small sip of her firewhiskey. “It’s been so weird not having him around the office. I miss his presence. He was very… stabilizing.”
Hermione nodded. She could see that. Ron was steady, reliable. “He’s doing really well. He’s been following all of his instructions and the arm is healing nicely.”
“That’s good.”
“He’s out of the sling now, which has helped a lot.”
“Mm, right. I heard that from Harry. He still has to be careful though, right?”
“Right. He’s not supposed to strain the arm at all, and he has to go in every other week for treatments to siphon off the excess dark magic.”
Vesper shuddered. “That’s pretty… creepy to think about, if I’m being honest.”
“I know, especially since it was affecting his magic a lot at first. It’s better now. He can do basic spells easily and most intermediate ones without a problem. Once he can do more advanced light magic, like the Patronus Charm, for example, they’ll declare him fit to return to work.”
“And then he has to stay behind a desk again, though, right?”
Hermione nodded. “For another four to six months probably.”
Vesper shook her head, as though this was unfathomable. “Poor Ron.”
“I know.” Hermione toyed with the stem of her glass. “But, if I’m being honest, a big part of me is relieved. At least behind a desk he’ll be safe.”
Vesper thought about that a moment as she savored her whiskey. “It’s a real worry, then. No matter what gender you are.”
“I’m sorry?” Hermione replied, not understanding.
“No, sorry,” Vesper shook her head and let out a small huff of laughter. “That was out of nowhere. I was just thinking… What you said made me think about Blaise. When I first joined the Aurors he was getting all paternalistic on me about being safe and choosing a career where I wasn’t in danger. I mean… I thought he was being paternalistic, like, doing the male pureblood thing where he thinks he knows what’s best for me better than I know myself. But, I don’t know… maybe that wasn’t it. Maybe he was just… worried.”
Hermione nodded. “If I were to guess, I would say it’s the latter. Blaise may be a pureblood and have some more… traditional notions about relationships than the rest of us, but he’s never been a misogynist.”
“No, I know that. I would never have been with him in the first place if he was.”
“From what I could tell, he always liked that you’re strong and athletic and could take him easily in a duel. That never bothered him.”
“So long as I’m not risking my life.”
Hermione gave her a gentle smile. “That’s not paternalism, Vesper. That’s just… love.”
Vesper licked her lips and stared into her drink. “Yeah.”
They were silent a few moments, sipping their drinks. Hermione decided to take a chance, since they were on the subject, and see if she could glean some information.
“So, you’re still choosing to take space from him then?”
Vesper glanced up at her. “Yes. It’s what I need right now.”
Hermione took another sip of mead. “Can I ask why?”
The Auror eyed her a moment. “Are you asking for Blaise, or for you?”
“I would never talk to Blaise about anything you said to me,” Hermione replied, taken aback. “Just as much as the reverse is true.” She realized the moment after she said it what she was implying. But then, yes, Blaise did talk to Hermione about Vesper sometimes, and Vesper had a right to know that at least, though not the content of what was said.
“Right. Of course. I know that.” Vesper was staring at the table like she was memorizing the grain in the wood. She was silent for long enough that Hermione wondered if she wasn’t going to get an answer. It was long enough that Hermione had plenty of time to contemplate how unlike herself Vesper seemed, just now. “Look,” Vesper said finally. But she didn’t finish right away, instead shifting uncomfortably in her chair. “It’s mostly… A lot of it is that I-“ She shifted again. “Ok.” She met Hermione’s eyes. “Have you ever…? Have you ever had a secret, one that if you told the person you love, it would hurt them? That if you told, it might hurt you too?”
Hermione was seized by a moment of panic, irrationally believing that somehow Vesper knew about her parents. But it passed quickly. No one knew. Or hardly anyone. And if she knew, Vesper would have said something by now. She wouldn’t use a roundabout strategy like this to get Hermione to confess.
No, Vesper was really talking about herself here.
“Yes, I have.”
Vesper nodded. “Well…” She sighed heavily. “There’s something I’ve been keeping from Blaise because it’s better if he doesn’t know. I genuinely think it wouldn’t do any good for him to know. I want to spare him pain. So I’m choosing not to tell him. But…” She glanced away, across the room. “It’s messing with my head a little, right now. I just don’t think I’m ready to… I don’t know. I don’t know how to be with him and not tell him. So I’m choosing to not be with him, at least until I can figure that part out. I need to be able to be done with… the secret, let it be really dead and buried, before I can be with him again. I know how it sounds,” she added, when Hermione didn’t reply right away. “I know what you think I should do. But trust me when I say it’s more complicated than that.”
“I wouldn’t jump to conclusions just yet,” Hermione found herself saying. “You don’t know what I’m thinking.”
Vesper shrugged. “I figured you were thinking what just about anyone would be thinking in this situation: that honesty is the most important thing in a relationship, and that secrets are unhealthy. It’s what anyone… it’s what people say, you know? Anyone who’s looking from the outside, who’s not inside the situation… It’s what they would say.”
“Which is exactly why I’m not saying it,” Hermione said. “You asked me if I had carried around a secret like that. I have. So I know. Some secrets are dangerous because they are kept. But some are dangerous because they are told. Only you can know what kind it is. And if you say it would be dangerous or damaging to tell him, then who am I to say otherwise?”
Vesper stared at her, and Hermione found herself tensing, waiting for the question.
What secret are you keeping?
But Vesper didn’t ask that. Instead she said, “You haven’t asked me what it is, either.”
“That surprises you?”
“Honestly? Yeah,” said Vesper with the ghost of a smirk on her lips. “Given what I know about you, and how you like to know things.”
Hermione chuckled. “Fair enough.” Truth be told, her mind was already generating possibilities for what it might be, dismissing some and keeping others. The obvious thing would be infidelity, that Vesper had cheated. But she didn’t think that was it. It was too obvious, and not really something she thought Vesper would ever do. Then again, maybe everyone was capable of something like that, in the right circumstances. Hermione had to admit that even when Blaise and Vesper were still together, she knew very little about the inner workings of their relationship. “Everyone is entitled to their secrets, though. I don’t necessarily think that just because you’re close to someone it means that you have to bare your soul all the time. I think it’s all right for there to be things that belong to you, and you alone.”
Vesper nodded. “I agree, I think. I just worry sometimes. Sometimes I’m afraid I’ll never be ready to be with Blaise again.”
“Well…” Hermione considered that. “You have to weigh the costs, I suppose. Of telling or not telling. You have to decide what price you’re not willing to pay.”
To her surprise, Vesper laughed. “You’re not like anyone else I know, Hermione. Harry or Ron… I bet they would tell me to trust my instincts, to do what I feel is right. And Draco would tell me to be honest no matter what. But you, you’re such a pragmatist.”
“Draco is a pragmatist too,” Hermione pointed out.
Vesper rolled her eyes. “Not when it comes to love.” She dragged the last word out, with almost a mocking edge. “When it comes to relationships he thinks love can heal all things and I should just be honest because that’s what people who love each other do. If we love each other, then we can survive everything.”
“You sound like you’re quoting him.”
“I basically am. He once told me that in the first year of their relationship he and Harry decided they would tell each other everything. Everything. And he was all…” She shook her head. “I can’t describe it. He was all… dreamy and smiley about it, like it was the best thing in the world.” She sighed, fighting a smile. “He’s just a big romantic softie, is what he is.”
“And you’re not?” Hermione asked, amused.
“Not like that.” Vesper’s expression turned dark, and she downed the rest of her whiskey in one gulp. “I’ve been hurt too many times.”
Hermione rested her chin on her hand and stared at the other brunette. It wasn’t that she hadn’t known that Vesper was as complicated and multi-sided as anyone else she knew. But she hadn’t considered that there might be things the American witch was carrying around that she didn’t let anyone else see. She was so open, confident, and frank otherwise.
“If you can’t tell Blaise,” she found herself saying. “You could tell… someone else. I’m not saying it has to be me or anything,” she added quickly. “I just mean… just someone, someone you trust. I mean… it could be me. I would never tell anyone.”
Vesper looked at her with her mouth half-open, as if about to speak. She took a few shallow, shaky breaths and then held it, poised, her back straight and ready…
And then her eyes dropped to the table again, and she said, “I appreciate that. I’ll think about it.”
Hermione swallowed the small pebble of disappointment that had formed in her throat, and simply nodded. Had she really expected Vesper to confide in her something she hadn’t told anyone? They were friends, certainly, and their friendship was deepening. Or so Hermione hoped. But Vesper was closer to Harry and Draco, and if she hadn’t even told them…
And she was also remembering her own secrets, and the impossible, painful hurdle that had to be cleared even just to tell one person. And she knew she could hardly blame Vesper for holding back.
***
When Hermione arrived at home Harry and Teddy were still there, which hardly surprised her. She walked into the kitchen to find the five-year-old at the table with his coloring book while Harry and Ron were chatting and cooking together simultaneously.
“You’re cooking?” she asked, by way of greeting.
Ron grinned at her, looking brighter and happier than he had all week. His best mate’s company was obviously good for him.
“Harry volunteered,” Ron said.
“Ron told me all you’ve been managing around the house,” Harry chimed in, coming over to give her a hug. “I thought it was the least I could do to help you out.”
She hugged him back tightly before pulling back and looking at his smiling face. He too was looking livelier than ever. Certainly better rested. Being engaged suited him.
“In that case,” she told him. “I do hope you two are planning to stay for dinner.”
“Only if we’re not imposing,” Harry said, more out of obligation than anything, and Hermione waved him off. “How was the fitting, by the way?”
“Good, I think. The fabric Narcissa picked out is really lovely. And obscenely expensive.”
“Of course,” said Harry, seeming outright giddy about it. “She showed me actually, before she officially ordered it. I think they’ll turn out really well.”
Hermione suppressed her amusement at Harry’s newfound enthusiasm for the wedding preparations. She never imagined in her wildest dreams that he would be invested in such things. Apparently Narcissa Black had a convert.
Conversation continued to be centered around the wedding preparations as the men finished cooking dinner. Hermione settled herself next to Teddy and watched her two best friends talk and joke and laugh, and tried to feel content.
So much in her life was good. She needed to remember that.
Teddy became the center of attention as dinner was served, although it was clear that the boy was equally excited about his adoptive dads getting married, so talk returned to that frequently over the course of the meal. Eventually Harry, perhaps subconsciously sensing that the topic was wearing thin, encouraged Teddy to talk of other things, which wasn’t an issue. All Harry had to do was steer the conversation towards Teddy’s current favorite books and he was off and running, giving Hermione a detailed description of the collection currently resting on his bookshelf at home. Hermione smiled and nodded while Teddy talked, the boy only pausing briefly to take a bite of dinner when his godfather reminded him to finish his food.
Hermione felt warmth pooling in her chest at the sight of them, effectively driving out any strange or melancholy feelings that were left over from her conversation with Vesper. Harry and Teddy seemed more like father and son than ever, and it was so gratifying to see. It gave her hope.
When dinner was finished the two visitors quickly took their leave. Draco was due home that evening and Teddy was allowed to stay up and wait for him so long as he was bathed and ready for bed at the usual time. Teddy had agreed readily to that, obviously anxious to see his “other dad,” who had been working hard at the hospital recently so he could have Christmas off plus take a week for their honeymoon.
“The whole wedding sounds like a real rush job,” Hermione commented to Ron once hugs and goodbyes were exchanged with Harry and Teddy and the couple was alone. They were doing the dishes together, Ron washing while Hermione dried. “I understand why they wouldn’t want to wait, but it seems more stressful than it’s worth.”
“I don’t know,” said Ron, rinsing a small pot and handing it to her to dry. “I can see the appeal. For it to come together so fast, it has to be a lot simpler, just in its very nature, doesn’t it?”
Hermione watched him a moment. “Do you wish we had kept it simple?” she asked him.
Ron shrugged. “I think our wedding will be lovely. I think when it finally arrives, it will be a very happy day. I just wish it was sooner. In fact, I sort of wish we were already married.”
“It’s not too late to elope, you know.”
Ron chuckled. “Right before the holidays? Right before Harry and Draco’s wedding? Everyone would be furious with us.”
“Yes, I suppose we’d be stealing Harry and Draco’s thunder a bit, in that case. Of course, they stole ours to begin with.” That ungenerous thought was one she felt she could only share with Ron and no one else, the slight resentment she felt that somehow, as with other things, Harry and Draco were getting to do it first. She knew it was petty, and she certainly wasn’t going to let it ruin things for her two good friends. But she had the uncharitable feeling sometimes, all the same.
“Nah,” said Ron, unplugging the sink and letting the soapy water drain out. “By the time May rolls around, the holidays and their wedding will feel like ages ago. People will still be excited. Especially my mum and Ginny.”
Hermione sighed. “You’re right.” They finished cleaning the kitchen in silence, as Hermione contemplated one other thing she had to talk to Ron about. It was something she was dreading, because she knew she would have to lie.
“Listen,” she said as Ron was scrubbing the kitchen island. “About the holdiays.”
“Yeah?” Ron said, not looking up.
“It looks like my parents aren’t going to be able to make it to the Burrow this year. In fact, they’re going to be spending the entire holiday on their own, they’ve decided.”
Ron looked at her now. “Really.”
Hermione nodded.
“Why?”
She shrugged. “It’s what they want. They’re going abroad. I suppose they just want to get out of the country for a while.”
“Where abroad?”
Hermione resisted the urge to furrow her brow, surprised that Ron was asking for details. “Skiing in the Alps, I believe.”
“And you don’t want to join them?”
Hermione opened her mouth, unsure of what to say.
“We could join them, is what I’m saying.”
Hermione shook her head. “No. We’ve already committed to spending the holidays with your family. It’s what we agreed.”
“We could split our time. You have a week off for the holiday, don’t you?”
“It’s fine, Ron, really.”
He was looking at her steadily now, no longer scrubbing the countertop. “Your family is just as important as mine, you know.”
Hermione nodded infinitesimally. “I know that.” She swallowed. “But it just doesn’t make any sense this year. We are quite busy, and you wouldn’t be able to ski anyway, with your arm and all, so…”
Ron considered that, then went back to cleaning. “That’s true. I just don’t want your family to get lost, get swept under the rug, that’s all.”
“No,” Hermione replied softly. “Of course not.” She cleared her throat. “Next year. It will be easier then. The wedding will be done, you’ll be fully healed, and if my parents want to go abroad again for the holiday we can be free to join them. This year, we’ll stick with the Weasley clan. It will be all right. It will be fun, I think.” Her fiancé didn’t look at her right away, his eyes fixed on his work. “Ron?”
He looked up at her finally, his face impassive. “Yeah,” he said. “All right.”
“Good,” she breathed. She gave him a peck on the lips. “I was thinking of taking a bath. Care to join me?”
He smiled softly. “You know I never say ‘no’ to that.”
She kissed him again, deeper this time. “Yes. I know.”
Up Next: Vesper has a breakthrough on the Green Adders murder case.
goddess-of_dragons: I agree, Paris is overdone. It’s probably going to be something more exotic than that.
Thanks for saying that about Harry and Narcissa. I wanted it to be emotional without it feeling like too much. Basically I wanted everyone to see the growth of their relationship.
Hope this satisfied you for Ron and Hermione! I know it’s been a while since I’ve updated, and I appreciate you sticking with me. It will be much more frequent from now on.
Redbecksy: Thanks! I’m so glad you’re reading this too. Italy is a great idea. I will definitely take it into consideration.
SydneyAdams3: Thanks for reading and reviewing! This is the sequel, if you hadn’t noticed :) Yes, I do have a Wattpad account but I don’t post there, or haven’t yet, anyway. I do post on AO3, but nothing I haven’t posted here first. This is the best site to get my most recent work.
Annoli23: Yes, this is the sequel. Did you read this first for some reason? The Kemp characters are original obviously, and first established in SMN and fleshed out more in this fic, Vesper especially.
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