Boys Night, Girls Night

The presents keep coming!


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Draco stood rooted to the floor for a full five minutes. Anyone watching would have wondered if he had lost his mind.

And maybe he had.

From the instant Hannah turned into Hermione his thoughts were all a tangle, his reactions a mess. Part of it was the relief.

Throughout the night he kept thinking about Hermione. Hermione fooling around with Krum, Hermione at the kitchen sink in her lingerie, Hermione laughing, the cute dimple in her cheek. Hermione in his t-shirt cooking breakfast. Hermione slightly intoxicated off of wine. Hermione singing in the shower, always muggle tunes he had to go look up after because he couldn’t get them out of his head.

So after a full night of sitting across from Hannah and thinking of Hermione, he was most relieved he wouldn’t have to walk the fine line between both of them.

However, the relief was overshadowed by the rage he felt. How could she not tell him? He thought he had meant more to her, that these past years had pulled them closer.

Apparently that was wishful thinking which only, in turn, fueled his temper.

And there was Krum. Always Krum. Krum who dated her, Krum who was labeled just a big a catch as he was. Krum, always his rival. Hermione straddling Krum. The image seared into his mind, cut through his heart. Granger, the biggest deception wrapped in the beguiling packaging of high morals and honesty. He never knew her. All those nights out, out exploring this side of her that everyone who mattered in her life knew. Except him.

Even standing there yelling at her couldn’t quite get rid of the thought that all of this could end with him shagging the hell out of her. Even distraught, she looked alarmingly sexy. She felt for him, wanted him, she said. His less noble side partnered with his ego crowed in triumph. His other side moored down in resentment tossed it aside. It didn’t matter in comparison to the betrayal he felt.

Watching her at the end, giving excuse after excuse trying to dispel his temper, his mood. Part of him knew it was a ruse, right? She must be one hell of an actress. Why didn’t she go into theatre?

He went over this past week. Remembering Hermione’s responses to questions and how Hannah deflected his question tonight. How the dimple in Hannah’s cheek matched the one in Hermione’s. How the freckle on Hannah’s hip was the one he remembered from his catching Hermione in the shower one time.

It all made sense now. He had been duped, he had been blind. He’d been used for a game. It was a wonder he didn’t hex her. She would have deserved it, and knowing her, she wouldn’t have fought back.

Then why did he have this heavy feeling? Why did he feel like an utter cad when he saw her struggle for words?
Why did he want to take back everything he said, every little hurt he inflicted?

It was equal to stabbing him when he heard her apparate. But what was worse was the stifled sob before the crack that announced her disappearance.

Still in turmoil he threw on his clothes and made his way out to the nearest pub.

Whiskey always held an answer.


_________________________


Hermione was knocking on a door. She fervently hoped it was the right door because the tears wouldn’t stop long enough to see clearly. When a head of flaming red hair answered the door, she let out a little sigh of relief. Or, to anyone else, it might have been gasp of pain.

Whatever. It didn’t matter anymore.

“Hermione? What’s wrong?” Ginny peered at her anxiously. Hermione knew she must look atrocious. He face was probably red and splotchy, swollen eyes, runny nose. She grabbed Ginny into a tight hug and let go of everything

“Oh God, Gin. I’ve made such a mess. I went there to tell him, and for one minute we were talking about it. The next we were naked. I couldn’t think which way was up or down.” She blubbered out, trying to stem the flow of tears with her shirt. Ginny steered her into the living room.

“Does he know?” Ginny made her sit down.

“I couldn’t even warn him. I was right on the edge of it, the words were right on my lips when this letter was delivered. And then the spell wore off. I screwed up. Oh Merlin, I’ve lost him. He doesn’t want me in his life, let alone the apartment. It’s over.” A torrent of tears gushed down her face.

“Mione, calm down. Did you fight it out? It’ll be ok. You two fight all the time” Ginny consoled.

Harry walked in, half dressed, glasses crooked. “Mione?” He glanced at the clock. “What’s going on?”

Ginny motioned for him to come in. “Draco found out about Hannah.”

Harry winced and felt a measure of foreboding.

Hermione got up and started pacing. “I-. I don’t think we’ve ever fought like that, even at Hogwarts. He just kept... twisting my words, and he wasn’t interested in my apologies. The whole time I was trying to explain, but he wouldn’t listen. I couldn’t get the words out fast enough and I kept thinking about this letter. I just didn’t know what to do, my mind stopped working.”

“What letter? Is this another one like from this afternoon?” Hermione pointed to the one on the table as Ginny’s face darkened. Harry picked it up and began to read. For once he wasn’t the Boy Who Lived but the Man Who Killed the Dark Lord. His face was furious.

“Harry, what does it say?” Ginny asked timidly.

Harry’s jaw flexed, teeth grinding together. It took him a moment.

“It says:
Dear Hermione, or is it Hannah? Interesting twist of personality for my sweetheart. I had no clue you possessed a sexual deviant under those clothes.
Just thinking of it makes me hard and I’m itching to make you writhe under me. I guess the list of things I want to introduce you to has been cut short. Even now I can picture my hand between your thighs and your breathy pants in my ear.
As much as I want fulfill this, I can’t help but be disappointed. How can you allow another man to touch you? You are mine. There is no doubt, and yet you continue to accept men unworthy of you. I have told you before to put an end to it.

Do not make me force my hand.

But perhaps you like this idea. Do you want me to spank you for your crimes?

My kinky little whore, the whips and chains will look good on you. I am eager to give you what you deserve.”


There was silence when Harry finished. He exchanged a loaded glance with Ginny.

Hermione felt like it was so much worse read out loud. It made it feel more real, like this person was somehow there in the room with her.
Hermione let her eyes dart around the apartment, a reflex reaction.

Her hands ran through her hair, trying to calm down the hysteria bubbling up her throat and failing miserably. Her breaths were coming in quick pants, and she realized she was gasping. “I just- I mean I can’t deal with this. Dra-D-...Malfoy can’t even look at m-me, and now this. I feel like everything is falling apart in my hands and I can’t put it back together. The more I try the more I’m losing.” She sat down, arms around her knees and hugged herself.
“I don’t know what to do anymore. Everything keeps going wrong.” She whimpered- her voice pitiful and broken.

Ginny never saw her so low. Where was the confident witch she saw not a few hours ago? She cursed as she sat next to Hermione and pulled her head in her lap. She stroked her hair while she hiccupped and sobbed.

“Mione, you need to tell Draco.” Harry said quietly and wished he could take it back when she flinched at the name. He handed her the box of tissues.

“No, I won’t bring him into this.” She might have been broken and sad, but the determination in her voice was unmistakable.

“Seriously, Mione, he needs to know. You’re sharing a flat, new security needs to be added. He should be made aware of it.” Ginny tried to reason with her.

“No,” she answered. Hermione sat up, wiping at her face. “I’ll put up the wards myself. I’ll give him another reason. He doesn’t need to know anything. It’s my life, and he made it clear doesn’t want anything to do with it. Both of you are sworn not to say a damn word.”

“Mione, you know he didn’t-” Harry started softly before he was cut off by the look on Ginny’s face.

“I’ll help you with the security wards and set up the guestroom for you tonight.” Ginny said quietly. She knew when to call it quits. She might not agree, but there was no way she was going to force Hermione to deal with anything she wasn’t ready to do. Especially after the night she had.

Oh, Ginny knew she would end up telling Draco at some point. Safety was the main concern, and no matter what he said, she knew Draco would never forgive himself if something happened to Hermione.