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Bless the Broken Road	By : Lissa & snowblind12 Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 10182 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I make no money off of my stories.

Chapter List
- 6
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AN: Anne and I are happy to be back on the horse and we're so thrilled with everyone's response to the last chapter of Master Mine: A Lesson in Love. We are in the editing process of MML15 and hope that it will go to BETA by the end of the weekend. Planning to post next Friday. Until then, we hope you all enjoy this chapter of BtBR! Our love, Lissa & Snow
BETA: RaynePheonix2 & sab81790
Chapter Seven
Changing
“Feels like your life changing.” *
August 2012
Fucking Ginny. The bloody witch guilted her into this. It was the last freaking place she wanted to be on a Wednesday night. She heaved a sigh and looked down at the lilac colored pamphlet. Spouse-loss Support Group. Ginny had heard about it through a friend who was a Mediwitch at St. Mungo’s. She had insisted Hermione go and got Harry to back her up. Then, they took her children for the evening so she wouldn’t have an excuse. Standing outside the little ma and pa café in Diagon Alley, she tried to screw her courage to the sticking point. Did she really want to be in a room filled with widows and widowers?

She had promised Ginny she would try it every week for a month. Might as well go in and get it over with. She pushed open the glass fronted door and was greeted by a portly, elderly witch who reminded her of everyone’s favorite grandmother. After explaining why she was there, Hermione witnessed a sympathetic smile from the old witch before she was pointed to a door at the back of the dining room.
She felt like she was marching to her death as she zigzagged her way through the mostly empty tables. Pausing at the door, she took a deep breath to steel her nerves and pushed. She was confused by a rush of trepidation that washed over her, and her heart leapt unexpectedly. An overwhelming feeling that something …extraordinary… was going to happen; that something – no, someone – was coming.
The thought was interrupted by a murmur of voices, and then her focus was on the people present. The group was much larger than she expected. When the door closed with a loud clunk behind her, she jumped slightly and turned back to it before glancing to the circle of people chattering as they sat on the chairs that were provided. No one was paying her one bit of attention. Her gaze continued to roam the room and she froze, taking in the tall, pale, blond-haired man.
Oh, my God. She reached up to pluck at a curl as nerves took over. It was Malfoy. As in Draco Malfoy. The boy who had attempted to make most of her existence at Hogwarts miserable. No matter the compassion she had for him after the war, she hadn’t forgotten how he had once treated her.

Glancing back at the group, she seriously thought about bolting. Her teeth sunk into her lower lip and she started to chew worriedly. Damnit, she wasn’t going to let him chase her away! She straightened her shoulders and started walking towards him.
“Malfoy?” she said hesitantly. She watched a small smirk quirk the corner of his mouth and felt a bit annoyed.
“Hey, Granger.” It was said with…kindness? He was being nice? He certainly was nice looking. Her eyes swept down his body before fixing again on his face. Beautiful was the more appropriate word. Draco Malfoy was a beautiful man. What the hell are you thinking, you chit?! she scolded herself hotly.
“Would you like a cup of coffee?” Draco gestured to the cart. “Most people are so wiped by this time of the evening they find the pick me up refreshing.”
Hermione dropped surprised eyes to the tray and then flicked them back up to meet his. The hell is he playing at? Him being nice is very off putting. I’m sure he’s trying to figure out how to make an arse out of me. “What’s the catch?”
His brow wrinkled as if he was confused. It was quiet for a long moment before he replied, “Catch?”
“Yeah, the catch. You’re going to dump it on me?” She frowned at him and crossed her arms suspiciously. The look that marred his face made her resolve deflate a little bit. Was that hurt? Had she hurt his feelings? Did Draco-freaking-Malfoy even have feelings? What the hell was he doing here anyway?
Draco raised his hands as if to show he was apologetic. “No catch, Granger!” he insisted. “Just a cup of coffee.” His expression was innocent, but she narrowed her eyes at him anyway. He seemed…genuine. Giving a little sigh, she let her arms drop to her sides.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “That wasn’t fair. I’m nervous, my emotions are high. I guess old habits do die hard. I’d love some coffee.”
He gave a light chuckle that made her stomach turn over a bit, fluttering as if his laugh affected her somehow. It didn’t affect you – stop it. It’s just a pretty face. He’s a total arsehole and you know it. He was talking again; Hermione forced herself to pay attention. “Forgiven. No worries. I’ve grown up a bit, though. Haven’t purposely spilled anything on someone in years.” He tossed her a crooked grin and her stomach flipped again. “How do you take it?”

Hot and sweaty against the wall. Wait…where did that come from? She felt herself flush as she whispered, “Cream and one sugar, please,” her eyes widened in horror at her own inner dialogue. What the fuck was wrong with her?

He handed her a cup of coffee after dropping a dollop of cream and a sugar cube in it and their fingers brushed gently as she accepted the brew. It took everything in her not to drop the cup when a tingling warmth spread through her fingers where they had met his. It was a startling feeling and she felt panic rise in her chest – why would his touch cause such a reaction? All Hermione knew was she needed it to stop. She switched the coffee to her other hand and moved to rub the feeling away on her thigh, letting out a slow sigh as the sensation abated.

She couldn’t think of anything else to say as she watched him pour himself a cup of coffee, so she raised her own to her lips and blew at it gently before taking a careful sip.

“You do know where you are, right, Granger?” Draco asked her softly. She didn’t even know Malfoy knew the word sympathy, but his voice was flooded with it. “You do mean to be here?” Just like that, Hermione was suspicious. Why would he be concerned about her?

She wanted to throw the coffee away – had he put something in it? The tingling sensation first … now trying to ply her with sympathy? What was his game? She felt her Occlumency walls slam into place; she raised the barbed wire at the top with a snap of her imaginary wand. Don’t let your bloody guard down with this arsehole, Granger. He’ll eat you for lunch if you let him.
“Do you think I’m stupid?” she hissed. She knowingly made her tone angry. Not realizing all of the other emotions she let through, Hermione wondered why his eyes had gone all soft and his face melted into a mask of understanding.
“My family has asked me to give it a try. I don’t know what good it will do, but I’m trying not to disappoint. Harry and Ginny are worried about me. No one under… understands …” She took a deep breath as her voice hitched and her attempted Occlumency floundered – she had never been good at it. Especially with how passionate she tended to be. Fuck. Do not cry in front of Malfoy!
“Hey, I’m sorry,” he said and reached out and cupped his hands around hers. That unexplainable, tingling warmth was back - making her think again that he’d spiked her coffee with something – only now it was creeping up her arms. She tried to jerk away from him, but he took that as a sign she didn’t feel he was being sincere.
“I mean it!” Draco held her hands firmly in his and her heart started pounding erratically. She didn’t want him to touch her! She didn’t understand what was happening, and she hated that the heat of his hands over hers felt so good. Somewhere in her muddled, emotional brain, a voice reminded her that the tingling feeling happened before she had even taken a sip of her coffee … and now it was back again because his bare skin was against hers. Her brow furrowed as she tried to concentrate on his words.
“I understand, Granger. I do,” he continued. “So do all these people in here. Everyone in this room has lost the witch or wizard they were married to. We all struggle with our friends and family not truly understanding. It’s why we’re here.” She froze at this statement – it caught her attention and turned her focus away from the befuddling feeling of his skin against hers and her racing thoughts.
“Yeah?” Suddenly, she felt calm. A wave of peace slipped through her, and the heat that suffused her hands and arms suddenly warmed her to her toes. It was the first time she had felt truly warm in months.
“Yeah.” He patted her hand before letting her go to her slight dismay. “You’ve come to the right place, little witch.” Little witch? Hmph! I’ll show you a little witch. It took effort not to glare at him.
“C’mon, let’s find you a seat.” He placed a gentle hand on the small of her back and she resisted the urge to melt into the warm, reassuring feeling. A flash of alabaster hands running up the smooth, caramel colored skin of her bare back flashed through her mind. She squeezed her eyes shut tight, trying to make sense of the confusing image. There was no sense to be had – so she forced herself to dismiss it.
She allowed Draco to guide her to the rest of the group and led them to two open chairs before he gestured for her to take a seat. He settled himself next to her right side. Looking around, Hermione tried to figure out who the group leader was. Her eyes widened in realization, mouth popping open like a fish out of water, when Draco started to speak.
“How’s everyone doing tonight?” His deep tenor voice cut through the room like a hot knife through butter and everyone turned their attention to him. She found herself impressed with his commanding presence.
There was a chorus of, “Good evening’s” and “Doing good’s” before the chatter died down.
“There are actually a couple new faces tonight, so I’d like to start by going around the circle and having you introduce yourself. Tell us a little something about you and your spouse’s name. If you’re comfortable sharing how they passed, please do that, too.” He paused, meeting a few different sets of eyes before adding, “I’ll start. I’m Draco Malfoy, I run this group voluntarily through St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. I’ve headed this group for the last six months, but I’ve been coming almost two years.” Hermione had to stifle her gasp of surprise before he continued.
“I lost my wife, Astoria, a little over six years ago. She had complications with the birth of our son, Scorpius. An aneurysm in her brain ruptured, she died quickly.”
Hermione felt tears prickle in her eyes as her heart went out for him again. Even though she had known about his loss, she couldn’t help the thoughts that flooded her mind. It’s still just bloody terrible! A new perspective flooded her mind. At least I had time with Ron. Two children. He got to watch them grow a little. She fumbled with her bag for some tissues, but Malfoy beat her to it. Handing her a box of tissues without looking at her, he paid attention as the next few people were introducing themselves. She took it gratefully, pulled a handful of tissues out of it and continued to pass it to her left.
One woman had lost her Muggle husband in a car accident. Another of terminal disease. A very elderly man, who had to be in his early hundreds, lost his wife of one hundred and two years. She had died peacefully in her sleep. There were two other witches in the room who had lost their husbands in the explosion on the second of May. She was going to be a blubbering mess before the night was done, but she wasn’t the only one who was tearful.
When it was her turn, she took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. Last was a hard place to be. “I’m Hermione Granger.” There was an audible gasp around the room as her name was recognized and she ducked her head. How had it escaped her mind that these people were going to know who she was? She tried to make a joke out of it. “Yes – that Hermione Granger. No, it wasn’t as cool as the history books make it out to be.” A faint chuckled rippled around the room.
“I’m a thirty-two-year-old mom of two. Rose is six and Hugo is four. My husband, Ron, was killed in the attack on the second of May, as well.” She met the eyes of the other two witches whose spouses had also been killed that day. “We would be celebrating our ten-year anniversary next week…if…” She swallowed. “Anyway. We had been best friends since our first year at Hogwarts, so technically we’d been together almost twenty-one years.” She gave a watery smile and avoided looking at everyone.
“Thanks, Hermione,” Malfoy said softly, and she gave a slight nod, surprised he had used her given name. Then she sat back and listened. Listened as a half dozen people talked about their day to day struggles, finding herself nodding and exclaiming along with the group. Found herself sympathizing and understanding all too well what everyone was feeling. Some of her own feelings gained words she hadn’t been able to find before this night. When the hour was up, she sat in her chair as most of the other’s milled around, talking and laughing together. Some had left quickly, but most were chattering with others like they were great friends. Malfoy was back at the coffee cart seeing everyone off as they left.
The relief that she felt in her soul was palpable. Every person she met tonight knew exactly how she was feeling. They all knew what she was going through. Even if their stories varied, they had one thing in common – they had lost their other half.
The room cleared out slowly and soon only she, Malfoy and a couple of others were left. She checked her watch and decided she had to get going. She fished a hair elastic out of her bag and pulled her piles of curls into a messy bun on top of her head before she gathered her things and started walking towards the door.
“Hey Granger?” Malfoy called out. She looked at him over her shoulder. “You’re all right?”
She nodded slowly.
“We’ll see you next week?”
“Yes, I believe you will.” He gave her a small smile and a wave, and she returned the gesture with a dip of her head before exiting the small party room.
She missed the way his face crumpled with confusion and no small amount of panic as the door swung shut behind her.
The late August heat was stifling during the day, but in the twilight of the evening, it was tolerable. Welcome, even. Hermione slung her purse across her body and slowly made her way towards the Leaky Cauldron. She had a lot on her mind.
The group had been good. No…it had been amazing. To be intimately connected with complete strangers in such a way was a bit off-putting, but more helpful than anything she could have imagined. Just knowing that there were other people on earth who knew what she was going through … exactly what she was going through … made her feel less lonely.
Lonely. It wasn’t until tonight that she even realized that was how she felt. Alone. So, so alone with the weight of the entire world on her shoulders. Ron had shouldered his fair share of the burdens of running and maintaining a household and parenting when he had been alive; now that he was gone … she was alone. She had no choice but to do the majority of it herself.
Of course, she had other family and friends who were there to help when they could – but they all had their own lives, too. They had partners and jobs and children to care for. They were not her other half. Her other half … he was … he was gone. She sniffled a bit and then realized she had walked right past the Leaky while lost in her thoughts. Digging through her purse, Hermione pulled out her wand and a couple of tissues. She blotted her eyes before tucking the tissues into her left hand and swirling her wand to conjure her Patronus. She relayed a message to Ginny that she was going to be a bit late, she needed to take a walk and process, but would be there soon. After she sent the dancing otter away, Hermione tucked her wand into her messy bun.
She continued walking up Diagon Alley, not paying attention to the minimal late evening traffic of people. Many of the shops closed at eight, so the business that usually accompanied a trip to the Alley was not present. When she reached the end of the cobblestone street, she looked up at the sign post that pointed to different shops just before the entrance to Knockturn Alley and sighed. She needed to think…where could she go?
Glancing to her right, the Apparition Point banner grabbed her attention. In a flash, she made the decision and crossed the street only to disappear with a loud crack!
When she landed in the little cemetery outside of Ottery St. Catchpole, her breath caught in her throat. It was hard to keep the tears at bay, so she let herself lose control of her firm façade. They slipped silently down her cheeks as she approached the large, Gryffindor Lion that marked Ron’s final resting place. She sank down next to the cold, white with gold-veined marble and leaned her side against it as she began talking. She told him about the grief meeting in detail. About how two of his co-worker’s wives were there and how they were dealing with the loss of their husbands. How there was an old man who had been married to his wife for over hundred years before she passed in her sleep; how she was simultaneously jealous of the man for all the time they’d had while still aching for him in her heart for the loss of his long-time wife. She paused for a stretch of time before she continued.
“I didn’t want to go, you know,” she murmured while running her fingers through the new grass that had grown over the burial site. “I think Ginny was right to force me into it, though. I think it’s going to be good for me to have other people to talk to.”
Hermione sniffled and used the tissue she had been holding to wipe her face. “You’ll never guess who runs the darn group, Ron,” she broke off in a chuckle. “Malfoy. Yes…Draco Malfoy. Can you believe it?
“I couldn’t at first,” she glanced away from the stone she conversed with the see that the sun was quickly sinking beyond the hill of the cemetery. “I instantly went on alert, waiting for insults or tricks. But he was kind…do you remember that he lost his wife a few years back? It was just before Rosie was born.”
She was quiet, and it was almost like she could hear her husband talking back to her. I’ll never understand why you always had a soft spot for Malfoy, ‘Mione. I’ll never get it, but it’s what makes you…well, you. Always too compassionate for your own good. If she kept her eyes closed tight enough, she could just about feel the press of his lips on her forehead, the brush of his thumb across her cheek, and the warmth of his breath in her ear as he chuckled bemusedly at her.
She argued playfully with him in her mind. You know he’s changed since the war, Ron. We know his whole story now. He was scared, his mum’s life had been threatened with his failure. His whole family turned at the end. Lucius sat in Azkaban for three years, they paid restitutions, Narcissa does so much volunteer work and hosts so many fundraisers it’s almost nauseating. They’ve reformed.
Out loud, she continued, “And Draco is different. There’s a sadness in his eyes. He holds himself differently – he’s not so pompous, so … aristocratic … anymore. He’s more … human.”
Like I said, a soft spot. Like he’s another of your special projects. Like spew or your Werewolf Reform Act. The Death Eater you could save. He laughed at her again and she couldn’t help but smile, because he was right.
She teased him back, You never could get it right, you wanker. It’s S.P.E.W.! Her laughter now floated in her mind right along with his.
Even though Draco Malfoy had been horrible to her in school, she had always been aware of him – and had often felt sorry for him. She always felt he hid behind a mask of his father’s beliefs. When asked why she defended him, Hermione always told people that it was a feeling. It had been an inkling from the moment they had met on the Hogwarts Express when she was helping Neville look for his toad.
He hadn’t been nice, per say, but he hadn’t been cruel, either. Malfoy had rolled his eyes at her and Neville and told them that he hadn’t seen a toad. In the weeks that had passed the beginning of their first year at Hogwarts, he had gone on to just seem confused and genuinely surprised with her in their classes the first few weeks of term. Looking back, her theory was that he had been shocked by her magical ability and confused that many things his father had taught him about Muggleborns weren’t correct. Her theory fit well through Second Year and his continued cruelty. It wasn’t until Third Year, however, that she truly became aware of him. The inkling that had started on the train before their first year blossomed into an awareness that started sometime after she slugged him the day Buckbeak had been sentenced to die.
Oh, she had hated him. Hated him beyond belief and reason. But she was always aware of him. Always seemed to know when he walked into a room. It had been infuriating.
Sixth year had changed everything. Instead of hating him – she was scared for him. Scared that Harry’s theories about him being a Death Eater were true. Worried as she watched him deteriorate all year long. Angry with Harry for using that spell on him – though at the time she told herself it was because she was worried about how much trouble Harry would be in, not that Malfoy had almost died.
During the Battle of Hogwarts, when she saw him fighting on their side – on the side of the Light – the relief that had gone through her was tangible. It turned to pride following the war and during the trials. He spoke as a witness against many other Death Eaters. He plead guilty to all his own misdeeds. He took responsibility for what had been done. Without hers, Ron’s, and Harry’s testimonies about the things he had done right during the war – such as not actually killing Dumbledore when presented with the opportunity and not identifying them at Malfoy Manor – and the fact that he had been forced to take the Mark at sixteen and had not been a legal adult, he probably would have faced a few years in Azkaban alongside his father.
“The Death Eater we all saved,” she whispered finally. “You, me, and Harry saved that whole family, and they’ve never made me regret it. And now Draco Malfoy is leading a spouse-loss grief group … so who was right?” She couldn’t help the smirk that crossed her face.
The joyous mirth she heard in her mind made tears tumble again. And it was like a whisper on the wind when his voice echoed, You, ‘Mione. But then again, you’re always right.
Hermione left the cemetery and Apparated to her house. From there, she flooed to the Potter’s. She felt a bit guilty. The grief group meeting ended at 7:15 and it was almost ten o’clock. She had completely lost track of time.
She brushed the minimal soot off her robes as she stepped into the living room. “Gin? Harry?” she whispered, not wanting to yell out in case everyone was asleep.
A sleepy Ginny Potter entered from the kitchen holding two mugs of tea. “At last. I’ve been dying to know how it went,” the red head said softly. “Take off your cloak and sit with me.”
“I’m so sorry, Gin. I should have been back two hours ago!” Hermione offered apologetically as she slipped off her outer robes and took the kind, warm offering. She hadn’t realized how cold her fingers were until she felt the warmth seep into her skin.
“Sshh, now. None of that. The kids are sleeping, and all is well. You know they are never a bother.”
Hermione sat on the sofa and took Ginny’s free hand in her own. “Thanks.” Both witches sipped their tea and let out sighs of contentedness.
“So, how was it?” Ginny gently prodded; unsure what to expect for an answer.
Hermione let out a deep sigh. “It was…good, Gin. Better than I was expecting.”
“Really?” Ginny asked, heartfeltly. “You didn’t hate it? I’ve been worrying all night that we pushed you into something you weren’t ready for.”
Hermione lightly shook her head. “No. It was,” she paused and then finished, “unexpected.” She took another swallow. “There were about fifteen people there. They were all like me; Men and women who were dealing with the loss of a beloved spouse.”
She looked up into her friend’s brown eyes. “Lexie Poppinstock was there. You remember her, the American who married Billy Gibbons?”
Ginny thought for a moment. “Oh yeah, he was on one of his first Auror assignments that day.” Ginny closed her eyes as she shook her head in disbelief. It was still hard to accept how many lives had been lost.
Neither said anything for a minute as they composed their thoughts. Hermione then continued. “There was a wizard who had been married to his wife for over one hundred years, Ginny. Can you even imagine what he’s going through? They have great, great grandchildren!”
Hermione hesitated and then added, “You’ll never guess who led the meeting!” The minute the words had escaped her lips, she regretted them. She wasn’t ready to discuss Draco Malfoy with Ginny. She could feel her skin flush at the memory of soft, grey eyes watching her with understanding. The electricity that coursed over her skin when Draco innocently touched her. The brief desire for him to grab hold of her and take her right then and there when he asked her how she liked her coffee. She cringed at the memory. It had been an unwelcome and inappropriate thought, no matter how fleeting. Was she that lonely already? Was she that desperate to be held again? To be physically touched and desired?
Hermione forced back her thoughts about Draco Malfoy. She averted her eyes when she caught Ginny staring at her, expectantly. “Well, are you going to tell me? Or am I really supposed to guess?”
Trying to cover her tracks, Hermione waved a hand dismissively, “I just realized you don’t know him. I worked with him a few years ago. He lost his wife unexpectedly a long time ago. He was very kind and welcoming.”
Ginny stared at Hermione. There was something she was picking up on, but she wasn’t quite sure. She dismissed it quickly. Ginny was a very intuitive witch, not quite a seer, but she often understood things before others did. Filing the observation in the back of her mind, she asked, “Where did you go afterwards? Why are you so late getting back?”
Hermione had to think for a second when her sister-in-law’s question pulled her from the recesses of her mind. “Umm, I went to talk to Ron. I needed to spend time with him.” She closed her eyes. “Ginny, I don’t want to let go of him.” A tear escaped her left bottom lash. “I’m afraid. I’m afraid I’m going to forget…I’m going to forget the little things.” A sob escaped as her hand flew to her eyes, trying to head off a gush of tears. “It’s too soon. I’m not ready.”
Ginny ignored her own tears as she pulled Hermione to her shoulder and held her tight. She could only imagine what Hermione was going through; Anger that the pain was still so acute, frustration that it wasn’t getting any easier, and a deep rooted fear that it would get easier - a sense of guilt for moving on, and sheer panic that memories would fade. How was a woman supposed to move on when she was plagued by guilt for letting herself do so?
“It’s alright, ‘Mione. You won’t forget. Harry and I won’t let you. Ron will forever and always be in our hearts. But you have to try to move on, love. For Rose. For Hugo. It doesn’t have to be today. Just take baby steps. Like going to the grief group.” She continued to hold her best friend. “But one thing I can promise, no matter what, my brother will always be with us.”
*Feels Like Today written by Wayne Hector and Steven Robson. Produced by Mark Bright and Marty Williams. Performed by Rascal Flatts from the album “Feels Like Today”.
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Bless the Broken Road