Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Long Term	By : ara51089 Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 3400 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of Harry Potter; all is copyright to J.K. Rowling. I make no money from this fanfiction.

Chapter List
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AN: Chapter three, yay! This is pretty much the last of the already-written content I have so after this, chapters will start to slow down. I'm at a bit of a standstill right now but hopefully over the coming weeks I'll figure out where to go from here. Ideas and criticism welcome!

Chapter Three

“So tell me about you and Weasley,” Draco said, popping a few crisps in his mouth.

Hermione looked up at him from across the table; they sat in the little sandwich bistro he’d mentioned a few weeks ago at a small table next to a wall-sized, pane-glass window. The sky was steel gray and a lazy drizzle fell, slicking the streets outside. Hermione took a bite of her sandwich, chewing with her hand in front of her mouth as she thought about what Draco had just said.

“Well,” she said thickly before swallowing, “what do you want to know, Draco?”

“I don’t know. Just how do you two work?”

Hermione’s brow creased and she laughed shortly.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, come on!” he leaned forward onto the table, eyes wide, a smile playing at his lips, “you two are like total opposites, I just don’t understand how you don’t tear each other apart.”

“I mean, you learn to compromise,” she said, shrugging as she grabbed her drink, sipping iced tea through a straw, “we care about each other, that’s what matters.”

“Is that what really matters, though? More than having similar interests? Or not being jealous or possessive?”

Hermione looked down at her plate, chewing on her lip. This kind of questioning made her feel uncomfortable and self-conscious so she attempted to change the subject.

“Draco, you always ask me about my relationship, but what about you? Are you seeing anyone?”

Draco sat back, gazing at the rain outside as he tore off a piece of his sandwich, chewing thoughtfully.

“Sort of, I guess,” he said, looking back to Hermione and giving her a lopsided smile, “Do you remember the Greengrass sisters?”

“Hmm, no,”

“I didn’t think you would, they were in Slytherin. Astoria Greengrass was in the year below us; I’ve gone out with her a few times in the past few weeks.”

“What’s she like?” Hermione pressed, eager to keep the conversation away from her own relationship.

“She’s okay, I suppose. Interested in climbing the social ladder, which is what got her interested in me to begin with. But despite that, I think she might be a decent person. My parents are putting a lot of pressure on me to keep seeing her; they’re interested in combining the Greengrass and Malfoy names.”

“What is this, an arranged marriage?” she joked, putting her straw back in her mouth.

“Practically. A lot of pureblood marriages happen like this. It’s how my parents ended up together.”

Hermione leaned forward slightly, lowering her head to look at him through her lashes.

“Hmm…how do you..I don’t know, how does that make you feel?”

“I don’t really know. It’s always been hard to outright deny my parents when they want something. I mean, it’s gotten easier over time and now that I’m an adult I know that I can do whatever I please but it’s difficult knowing that they’ll be judging, and shaming and all that. And I guess when it comes to like…the woman I’ll have children with I don’t want my kids to get a bunch of shit from their grandparents. My grandfather Abraxas was such a harsh…just totally unyielding, unloving bastard when he was alive and I wouldn’t want any kid of mine to go through that with my dad. Because he has the potential to be that bastard.”

There was a brief silence between them. Draco sighed and sat back again, tossing the crust of his sandwich onto his plate.

“I’m really sorry, Draco. That must be hard, living with that kind of pressure. I mean, my parents are dentists, haha,” he smiled at her laughter, “the only thing they want out of my future kids is good teeth.”

They both laughed and Hermione lowered her eyes. It’s not an affair, it’s not an affair, it’s not an affair. She and Draco had been going to lunch 3-4 times a week since their first Pad Thai lunch. When Ron complained about how rarely she came home in the middle of the day now, she blamed the “overtime hours” on a recent promotion. Lying made her feel strange and ashamed and kept her up at night but when she sat across from Draco, eating and talking and laughing, all that disappeared. She’d thought it would pass, that once she got used to being around Draco the flirting and attraction would die down, but it didn’t; quite the contrary, it only intensified it.

When she couldn’t sleep, she would sit up in the study, gazing into the fire or out the window, kicking back glass after glass of wine, thinking. She couldn’t think clearly while lying next to Ron—she felt guilty for even having some of the thoughts while in the same room as him. But in the study she was free to obsess over her thoughts: how much time she and Draco were spending together; how many times he stopped by her office a day; how the flirting was so overt sometimes, it was like electricity between them; how insanely attracted she was to him; how sometimes their banter would get her so wound up, she wasn’t sure if she could stop herself from doing something foolish...

Hermione closed her eyes for a second, shaking the thoughts away as the waiter brought them the check. Her hand shot out to grab it but not fast enough; Draco snatched it up and stood, his tongue sticking out. They’d quickly gotten tired of arguing over who would pay for lunch, so they decided to turn it into a game: whoever grabbed the check first paid.

“C’mon, love,” he chimed as she gathered her purse, “back to the office for us.”

A small rush coursed through Hermione; Draco was getting into the habit of using pet names when talking to her. Love; honey; darling; he’d even called her poppet in jest once or twice. Every time though it made her shiver and he’d asked her if it was okay. Heat had rushed to her face when she’d accidentally admitted that she liked it.

Upon paying the check, they walked outside, side by side beneath Draco’s umbrella. We don’t look like a couple right now, we don’t, we just look like friends. But as they continued down the block, it was like Hermione was outside her own body watching them. She saw herself unconsciously link arms with him and lean in closer, watched them laughing often and easily, watched him place his arm gently around her hip as they stepped over a large puddle. Jesus Christ, she thought to herself, I’m in trouble.

“Ron!” Hermione called as she opened the front door; placing her umbrella in the stand, she braced herself against the wall as she slipped her shoes off. It was late and the rain had gotten heavier; she’d had to work overtime to make up for work she hadn’t done over lunch. “Ron, darling, are you home?”

Yawning, Hermione walked through the sitting room, tossing her bag onto the coffee table. She stretched as she walked, pulling the tie out of her hair, a small, satisfied noise escaping her as she shook it out with her fingers. Thunder rolled through the sky outside and Hermione was unnerved by how quiet the house was. She stopped in the doorway of the kitchen, confused.

“Ron? Darling, what are you doing sitting in the dark?” she reached over to switch the light on.

Ron sat with his back to her, unmoving and silent. Rubbing the back of her neck, she walked around the table and sat across from him. His eyes were closed and his brow was creased intensely, his jaw set. Hermione stared at him for a moment, confused and a little annoyed with the act he was putting on. She was tired and her ankles were killing her; she’d been hoping that he’d have prepared a little food for her so she could eat right away before showering and hitting the sack.

“Ron,” she said softly, reaching out to touch his arm, “Ron, what’s wrong?”

His eyes snapped open and he glared at her, his nostrils flaring.

“Who were you with today when you went to lunch.”

Hermione’s heart leapt to her throat before plummeting like a chunk of ice to her stomach. She hoped her face didn’t betray the fear and surprise coursing through her; all her fatigue was gone and her every nerve was on edge.

“What do you mean?” her voice quivered slightly and she cursed herself for her transparency.

“Don’t. Don’t treat me like I’m an idiot, Hermione.” He stood, the chair he’d been sitting on tipping backwards; she jumped at the crash it made. “I went into Diagon Alley earlier this evening, and I saw Hannah and Neville. Hannah asked if you and I were still together.”

Hermione’s heart pounded like thunder in her chest and she was sure he could hear it as he paced violently back and forth; the anger in his voice was rising and fear splintered through her.

“Of course we are, I told her. Why? Why do you think she asked that, Hermione?” he stopped pacing and turned towards her, eyes ablaze.

“I…I don’t kn-know, Ron, I—”

“DON’T LIE!”

Hermione jumped again as he pounded his fist against the table; the flatware clattered to the floor.

“Hannah said she saw you having lunch with someone today, looked very close with him. Who was it, Hermione. Tell me the fucking truth. Who were you with.”

Hermione bit her lip, staring hard at the worn wood tabletop. He knew. He knew who she’d been with he just wanted to hear her say it.

“I was with Draco Malfoy.”

The silence was terrible and suffocating; she needed him to react, say something, throw something, anything to break the horrible silence.

“Why?”

Hermione looked up; Ron was shaking with rage, his ears and cheeks flaming red, his fists clenched at his sides.

“It was just lunch, Ron.” She said weakly, guilt searing her from the inside out.

“Why would you go to lunch with him?!” he yelled, kicking the chair he’d knocked over.

“Ron, we’re coworkers! It was nothing, all we did was have some sandwiches and talk about the past five years of our lives!”

“So you’re telling me you’ve never gone to lunch with him before?”

“No,” the lie came easily, “we hardly ever see each other.”

Ron glared at her for a long moment, breathing deeply before he finally pulled the chair upright and sat across from her.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because, Ron, I knew you’d do this!” Hermione leaned back in her chair, rubbing her face, “I’m really exhausted. Can we please discuss all this tomorrow?”

“Yes,”

Hermione stood and tentatively leaned over to kiss him; he accepted, though stiffly and the kiss was awkward. Hermione left the kitchen, hurrying upstairs. She spent longer than usual in the shower, letting the warm water run down her face as she leaned against the tile wall. What were you thinking, Hermione. You’ve known all along that this is wrong. You have to put a stop to it. Hermione crawled under the covers of their bed a short time later; she tried to keep her eyes open long enough to say goodnight to Ron but it wasn’t until long after she’d fallen asleep that he came to bed as well.

AN: Hope you enjoyed it! Please leave reviews, comments, criticism, or flames!
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