Bittersweet

Chapter 12

“We have to stop doing this.” Her voice ragged with half breaths. She stretched her legs forward hitting the bookcase in front of her.

“Doing what?” drawled the voice next to her, a voice that crawled in anticipation for more. He nipped at her ear as she slowly moved her head closer to his mouth.

“This…” she said pointing to their naked bodies inside the library-Her voice becoming steady, growing impatient.

“You seemed to like it an hour ago.” He said touching her hair and moving it away from her face.

“Not that, the sneaking around. I hate that we have to keep our relationship a secret.” Her head turned away from his as she grabbed for her clothes.

“I do too, but you know the uproar that would proceed. People would be distraught; others would end up hurting me.” He said pointing to his chest with a slight smile.

“Oh stop it. You can handle her.” Hermione said, dressed now.

“It’s not her, it’s him.” Draco said now starting to dress himself. “I…I just can’t.” He hated lying to her, but he really didn’t want her thinking that she could protect herself when she couldn’t.

“If you are trying to protect me, I can take care of myself you know.”

God the woman was persistent.

“I’m only trying to protect what we have. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you or to our relationship.” He said now holding her shoulders.

“I know that…its not just that…its everything that comes with the secrets. Not telling my friends about us, pretending that I’m okay with Pansy touching you. Sometimes its more than I can bare.”

“I’m..sor….”

“Don’t say you’re sorry when you can’t fix the thing you’re sorry for. It’s going to continue and there’s nothing I can do about it. I want to be able to tell people about our relationship, to announce to everyone, that you and me…we….are a couple. But I can’t. So don’t apologize to me about something you refuse to fix.”

“Hermione, its not that I don’t want to fix it. I’m looking out for your…”

“Yeah, my behalf.” She interrupted in a sarcastic tone while stepping away from his hold.

“Hermione….” He said stepping toward her.

“Please don’t. I…I just need to be alone right now.” She said walking away, leaving him alone; leaving the man who wanted to save her, but was unable to do so.

~~

Being alone didn’t solve her problems though. She just ended up being lonelier. She hated the emotional rollercoaster that her mind was playing on her. The deep depression of sadness and the uncertainty of where fate and her future had in store for her, kept her unbalanced and her mind unsteady.

An empty pit of loss was the core of her emotions. A pit that showed no light, only swollen darkness that entrapped her. Her mind was unsure if she was doing the right thing and unsure that their relationship would even last began to sink in. Too many hurtles stood in their way. Draco’s future marriage, her friends and how they would treat the situation made her heart heavy. Were they doing the right thing by staying together? Or was there a higher power telling them that it wasn’t right?

She wanted more than anything to be with him. To share her life with the one person who made her heart sing. New relationships weren’t supposed to be this challenging. Happiness had yet to pass her doorway and concentrating on the obvious inevitable was bringing her to a place that felt binding.

Hermione was the type of woman who controlled situations. She had control of where her future would lead her and how she would get there. The inevitable was of her doing and no one else’s-that is until now.

She had lived her life putting herself in situations that involved answers and questions that she could solve. “There is always a way!” her mother had once told her. And so she lived by that method. There was no question that she couldn’t do it or that there was no way in solving it. There was an answer and there was a way to solve it- accomplishing the task was always her mind set.

Knowledge is a tricky thing. Knowing too little can hurt you and knowing too much can prepare you for what is to come. She had known that the relationship with Draco would be tricky and tough, and yet she continued to fall deeper and deeper into the rabbit hole. She wanted to control this situation and to fix it.

She sat on her bed and ran her fingers along the seams of the fabric, thinking of solutions, but alas none were clear. She had no answers, no way to find them out, and how much not knowing those answers would cost her.

She studied the handiwork of her comforter contently while organizing thoughts around in her head. She couldn’t think of anything else, her mind wouldn’t let her. She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling for awhile-hoping that would help.

Annoyed at herself, she got off of her bed, undressed and got back into bed. Hoping sleep would drift her away where problems where no longer issues, she fell fast asleep, relinquishing her idioms-at least for an hour or so.


Morning came as scheduled. Hours turned into many and Hermione stretched her arms wide angry at herself for sleeping longer than she tended to. She wanted to get an early start to the day and start preparing for the evenings events. The dance was tonight and the Heads of Houses were asked to help set up. Unfortunately, that also involved Draco, the one person she wanted to avoid.

Solutions from the previous night were still unclear and seeing him was going to make it that harder for her. Everything was such a mess. Her emotions spinning cartwheels in her head bringing unwanted migraines and the inevitable future that awaited her.

Pushing her hair behind her ears and getting ready for the day, she tried with all her might to think of happier things, she needed to concentrate on her duties; her personal problems would have to wait. Worrying about something when there were tasks on hand was absolute absurd. She had to gain her composure because having him realizing she was a mess, was not an option.

Breathing in deeply, she made her way out of the doorway. When she reached the Great Hall there were a lot of busy House elves running around gathering streamers and magical binding tape. Normally this wouldn’t have been a scene one would see this time of the year. On past occasions, the House elves would just flick their wrists and the Great Hall would be decorated in a matter of seconds. But this year, Dumbledore had notified everyone that magic would not be used to cook or decorate this year’s event.

“Enjoying ones work is more immaculate when hands did the talking” was the last thing he said before assigning everyone their decorating duties. Hermione agreed with the Professor’s choice, she also agreed that when you put effort and strength into something, the end result was always satisfactory.

As she walked into the room she noticed Seamus Finnegan helping a house elf hang a Gryffindor banner. The scene was humorous, the house elf obviously didn’t want Seamus’ help and Seamus obviously wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Hermione laughed to herself as the two pulled each end of the banner.

“I don’t think the banner likes that very much?” Hermione heard herself say as she walked over to the spectacle.

“Me sorry Miss Granger, it’s me job to do so.” explained the grief-stricken elf.

“And it is my job to help you.” Seamus argued back, still holding onto his end of the banner.

“Uniting people and helping others is what this assignment is all about.” Hermione said looking at the two as a mother would her two children.

“I thought it was about not doing magic?” Seamus said, now lowering the banner.

“It’s more than that Seamus.”

“Well whatever it is, this little twerp needs to learn that we are here to help him.”

“A house elf does not get help?” the house elf said standing tall.

“Well today you do” Seamus said grabbing the elf’s half and storming off in the opposite direction-the anguished elf running after him.

Hermione watched them shaking her head indefinitely. Throughout the day she worked and tried not to notice Draco’s presence on the Slytherin side of the Great Hall. She knew he was there and knew that if she turned her head to look in his direction that she wouldn’t be able to look away. Too many feelings were rolling around in her head and heart that if she knew that he might be looking towards her that the problems they faced would only be a memory. She would push them aside and focus on how she felt about him instead of the latter.

As she steadied herself on a ladder, she pinned up banners, streamers, and balloons. Besides the feelings of Draco in her gut, she was enjoying herself. Decorating made her feel back at home decorating for her old friends and for family gatherings. At Hogwarts she didn’t get that feeling. Being a muggle born there were experiences that she just couldn’t experience while being in the magical world-hearing a toaster pop, a door bell ring, or the television blaring. She didn’t prefer one or the other, she just wished she could mix the two together someday.

As her mind wondered to other things, she slowly moved her feet higher along the ladder, her foot catching the bottom of the next step. She didn’t have enough time to levitate herself or grab her wand for that matter, she was already falling. Putting her hands out in front of her and closing her eyes, she prepared herself for the fall. But the fall never came. She was now in the arms of someone. She opened them to see Draco holding her with such ease. His eyes filled with worry, he set her done roughly, noticing others watching them.

“Next time watch were you put your big feet Granger. You almost hurt my leg.” Giving her a wink before pouncing off, she regained her composure, smoothed the ends of her skirt and walked back over to the preparation table-hoping the looks would go away.


~~

In a pub not far from Hogwarts Castle sat Bellatrix Lestrange. Sipping her beer and slouching on a stool, she contemplated the next couple of days and what was in store for her. She had more on her mind than most people did at the moment and it was beginning to lay heavy in her mind. She hadn’t slept in days and her appearance was beginning to show it. Her hair tousled onto her shoulders like day old bread and prunes for eyes made her not the talk of the death eater community.

As she decided what her next move would be, a man in clothes that smelled of urine and hay sat next to her, turning his stool towards her about to speak. She didn’t let him. She gave him the look of death. This however did subside

“Okay, guy in need of a clue. Here’s one. Women send signals. That was a brush off. Before you dip into your shallow pool of wit let me paint us a picture and save us both the trouble. Here’s your evening. You are going to slink back off to your buddies, laugh this off, get wasted, go home, and make nice with yourself. But don’t be thinking of me, because even your fantasy of me, isn’t interested in you.”

The man sulked back over to his previous location cursing Bellatrix under his breath. Bellatrix ignored the comment and continued to drink her hard liquor, not caring for anyone but herself. Over the past few months she had been through more than anyone. Playing two sides of evil was obviously raking her brain as well as her physical appearance. However, she had learned to deal with this kind of pressure. Having grown up in an environment where you had to be on your toes at all times, she had learned to deal with it-to stop the whining and take each moment with full strides. Her father had told her how to be strong willed, patient, how to deal with the mind games, and how to play it back with more force and determination.

Her father was the type of man that most people feared. Children cowered in the streets when they saw him on approach and more than on one occasion people would move out of the way when he passed. Having that kind of power and control was what she wanted to achieve. Having been a death eater she had accomplished baby steps towards that reputation, but alas they were only steps-not strides. Living at home she had feared her father. Sleeping with one eye open and cowering in dark corners was the atmosphere of living at the Lestrange manor. Rest was for the weak and the useless and no daughter of his would stoop low enough to become one of them.

His wishes had been granted. She had made sure that she wasn’t made a fool of and that her father’s legacy would continue. At least she had attempted to keep his legacy secure. Since paying some time in Azkaban, she evaluated her life’s struggles and what had caused her partial downfall. She was weak and that was something her father had refused to become. He once told her that being trapped behind doors was a way to seclude yourself away from the world-to focus on what really mattered. Being behind those bars-her happiness being sucked out of her, gave her that perspective. Her father was right in every aspect. When she finally was released she focused on those flaws, fixed them and became better for it.

Her father was a very influential individual and she will always be grateful for torturing her soul and bringing her up the way he did. If it weren’t for him, she wouldn’t be the death eater she was today. His lessons and teachings made her soul feel unnecessary and unwanted. He was a solider and gave her light to lead her in the right direction. As a child she wished him dead and wished he would perish sooner than later. She despised him for everything that he was-as most children do their parents when being punished. Many a times he would set her in the dark room of the manor (the smallest room in the manor crowded in complete darkness) and let her think of why he was upset with her.

She rubbed her eyes from the memories. Torture was what gave her liberty and strength. Finishing up the glass she slammed it onto the counter, ordering another. Glancing around the room she noticed familiar faces. Mostly death eaters accompanied the bar and a student here or there. She was proud to call herself a death eater these days. With the dark lord back into power and missions in full swing again, there was a high moral. People where getting murdered every day and death eaters did it with a smile on their face. It was charismatic. As she turned back to her poison, she swiveled her chair back to the front of the bar. Placing the cup up to her lips. She felt a tap on her shoulder. Not wanting to be bothered, she slammed her drink down and swiveled back to her original position, placing up her fists. But she didn’t need to swing. Attempting to see a horny death eater, she was now face to face with Barton Potter.

“Well I can see that you have already prepared yourself for an attack.” His abruptness annoyed her.

“What do you want Barton?” she said swinging her chair towards her drink.

“Just to chat, to see how my darling is doing. How many have you had?”

“I didn’t know you were keeping count?” she spat back.

“Don’t turn away from me!” he yelled back swinging her chair back to face him.

A smirk crossed her face. “Don’t tend to think that we are on good terms Barton, and don’t indulge yourself with the idea that I am going to just spread my legs to the idea. She slid off her chair, moved over to Barton, pressed her cheek to his face. “Entrapment may be better when you’re lying on your back, but I as hell will not submit to that.”

He smiled into her hair and shot his hand roughly down underneath her skirt. He grabbed it tightly. “You will spread your legs willingly-especially where I’m concerned.”

She broke away from his face so that their noses were inches apart. “I take it their watching.” she said whispering- a smile visible.

He pressed harder into her clit as he drove his fingers into her. She moaned while receiving her answer. She pushed him away and off of her. “I suggest you stay away from me Barton.” She said while striding out of the pub.

As Barton stood standing please with himself, he walked over to a set of men sitting in a far corner.

“Excuse me?”

Barton ignored the men, ordered a beer and sat down calmly. “I suggest that if you are going to spy on my girlfriend, you ask Lucius to be less obtrusive.” Barton said, downing his beer. He slammed the glass down onto the table and looked deeply into the eyes of the men before him. “Because if this happens again, and I’m sure it will, you’re hearts will be hanging from my sleeve!”

As he pushed his chair out from under him, the men cowered back. “Don’t test me gentlemen. It will be the last thing you will do.” As Barton walked out of the pub, he knew that he had made a plant and that plant was only the first steps into the plan.


~~

Patty Granger sipped her tea while she read the Monday post. A letter from Aunt Marjorie and Uncle Bill informing her that she had to attend the next family gathering along with a map sat upon the oval oak table. Patty Granger didn’t intend on attending at all; she usually excluded her family from such functions. Since her daughter was indeed a witch, and a great one at that, she tended to keep their family secrets secure and knowing that if, those secrets were to become knowledgeable that the consequences would be severe.

Some might say that Patty was disappointed in her daughters’ abilities and that she was trying desperately to keep them hidden, but that wasn’t the case when it came to magic and her daughter. Patty was only looking out for her family’s behalf. Growing up in a strict home her father had taught her that believing in such nonsense was blasphemy and reckless behavior. Naïve as they were, she wasn’t going to have them embarrass her daughter or ruin the relationship they could have as a family.

Patty was strong willed, a woman who kept her family as a number one priority and always made sure that whatever challenges came their way, that they would face those together-head strong. She pushed herself to be tough, and to take each day as it was her last. Patty was the type of woman who knew just what she wanted and would make sure that she lived her life that way. Because of the passion to be a strong willed woman, she was determined.

Since Grad school Patty had always been there for her children and for her family. There were tough times sure, but Patty had always found a way to keep in tact. Although she wasn’t magical inclined she had learned to stay on top of her toes when it came to the magical world, her daughters abilities, the environment Hermione was in, and who Hermione came in contact with. A mother’s protection was the strongest type of bond and she would always adhere to it.

After her daughter had begun to develop mystical traits, it scared Patty. Relentlessly she would search for some logical reason why her daughter would do such things. It tormented Patty to think that she was losing her mind when it came to her abnormal child. She tried to persuade herself into thinking that it was her imagination and that such things weren’t happening. But months after her daughters’ birth, she began to think otherwise. It was more of an obsession as the reality struck her. She needed to find out who had done this to her daughter and why. She didn’t understand. At times, she didn’t want to understand. She would lay awake at night wishing it away. Tendencies to stop things that were unimaginable were human nature and every emotion in her body was holding up stop signs. There were so many questions and no answers.

Days from losing her mind, there was a knock on her flat door. Patty answered it, knowing it was probably a neighbor or the post. But to her surprise it was neither. She remembered it as it was yesterday.

The man in front of her wore a large coat that fell to the floor. His face covered with a hood, he stepped into her home.

”Excuse me, do I know you.”

He didn’t answer at first and scared for her life, she grabbed for the umbrella hanging behind her. But as she went for it, the man swung his arm around to catch her.

“Do not be afraid, I’m not here to hurt you.”

The man’s face was deep and scratchy. He sounded like he had larigitis or lack of sleep. The panicked look on her face seemed to dwindle, by his reply, yet her mind was screaming for cover. She let go of the umbrella slowly and watched as he walked into her husbands study.

As he strolled into the study he threw off his cloak onto a nearby chair and sunk into another one. She was right, she thought. He was tired. The man’s face looked tired and exhausted. As he closed his eyes, she tried to sneak out of the room.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you?” the man said his eyes now opening.

Butterflies flickered in her abdomen as he spoke. She didn’t know what to do. There was a strange man in her house and her husband wasn’t at home. She certainly wasn’t going to be able to defend herself against him-he was at least twice her size.

She slumped her shoulders and sat down in one of the three chairs in the room. “Very well, but may I please ask what you are doing in my home?” bravery definitely wasn’t her strongest asset, but she had to at least try.

“Patty, being afraid of me is your last concern.”

“How….how do you know my name?”

“Because I know you.”

“How…how do you know me?” she staggered her words, trying to release the nervousness that wasn’t going away.

The man squeezed the base of his nose. Opening his eyes one more time, he moved his body into a full sitting position and stared at the grieve stricken woman. The only way he was going to get this was through patience, something he just didn’t posses.

Letting out a sigh, he continued. “Twenty years ago, you met a man. You met him at Oxford. He was majoring in anthropology. I believe you met at a pizza parlor. He asked you out. The two of you hit it off, great couple. People thought you two would last. You guys were a pee in a pod. But then something happened. Now Patty, can you tell me just what happened?” he said now leaning on his legs with his elbows.

Patty looked like someone had run her over. She was dumbfounded. She didn’t know who this person was or how he knew all this information, but he did. A past she had tried to keep hidden had finally caught up with her. A past that she never thought would be revealed. “I….I got pregnant.”

“It was supposed to be a happy time, sure…but the two of you were just kids. Either one of you was ready to start a family, let alone get married. So you both decided that adoption was the best option. So nine months later Patty, you gave birth to a baby boy.”

Patty’s eyebrows scrunched up. “Well obviously you don’t know me that well. Because my baby didn’t make it, he died in child birth.”

The man simply smiled, “and that’s were you are mistaken, because that baby survived.”

Tears started to swell up, “who…who are you.”

“I would have thought you would have figured that out by now.”

Patty wiped the tears away from her eyes; she looked deeply into the man before her. Finally noticing who was before her. “John…Potter? John is that you?”

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Author\'s Note: I should have an update here pretty soon. Sorry for the lack of updates, I have been really behind in updating this fiction here. Just let me know what you think! Thanks

~Stephanie