Unrequited

Bleeding Love

*Takes them out of the box and plays with them a bit before JKR notices*
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I was sitting in the kitchen the next morning when Mother came down. She noticed my feet propped up in the chair opposite me and grinned.

"Comfy?"

"Extremely," I said around a mouthful of warm rhubarb crumble.

"Good. Coffee?"

"No, thanks Mum."

I watched as she poured herself a cup and sat down at the table. She went through her morning ritual: she closed her eyes and inhaled the scent of the strong, dark brew before adding crème and sugar.

"I remember going off the caffeine as well when I was pregnant with you." Mother's face was misty with remembrance. "Have you got the jitters for it?"

"No. Not really. It's not as if they serve up Cokes in the Great Hall at Hogwarts."

"True." Her face became a bit more somber and reflective. I mentally braced myself for what might be coming. "You know that your father and I had some misgivings about your going away to Hogwarts."

I smiled. "You might have mentioned it once or twice."

Mum gave me a salty smile. "I'm sure. And we were less than pleased about your current situation."

"Mm-hm." I said nothing, giving her a chance to come to the point of this early morning chat.

"But I must say; your dad and I were pleasantly surprised to see how attentive you and young Malfoy are to each other - especially being so young."

"Not that young. I've lived through a war, Mum."

"Yes. That does tend to change a person." We fell quiet a moment. "I have a question for you, Hermione."

"Yes?"

"It's obvious that he's mad for you. Do you love him?"
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I came tipping down the stairs looking for Hermione, figuring she'd be in the kitchen. I stopped on the next to last step when I heard the two women conversing.

"It's obvious that he's mad for you." Christ. Her mother certainly had me pegged. Was I that bloody transparent? Her next words drew me up short. "Do you love him?"

I crept closer, wanting to hear Hermione's answer. I heard nothing. It crushed a tiny bit of my soul when the silence lengthened and was punctuated by a small sniff - from Hermione, I assumed.

"Then you need to tell him and put him out of his misery. I think you'd both be the better for it."

"I know." Those were the only words she spoke for a long time after that. I climbed the stairs soundlessly; all desire to see my wife having fled.
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After finishing off breakfast, I wanted to go see Draco, to tell him how I really felt. When my mother questioned me, making me confront my feelings about my husband, so many things became clear. I opened the door to our room to find Draco already up and about.

"Good morning, Draco."

"Hermione." He was curt and that confused me.

"Is there anything wrong?"

"No. Why should there be?" He didn't face me as he said it, instead preferring to rummage through his suitcases. That alone was enough to put me on red alert.

"No." He disappeared into my small en suite and I heard the water running. I busied myself pulling out an outfit, figuring that sooner or later he would let me know in his inimitable way what was putting his knickers in a twist.

The temperature had managed to drop another three notches and so I picked accordingly. The new black velvet trousers were an instant favourite. Coupled with a fair-isle knit jumper, I knew I would look very Christmas-y. Selecting underwear and socks, I tossed them onto the bed next to my outfit and wandered out into the hall to get a fresh towel and face flannel. I ran right into Draco as I came back into our bedroom. He gave a terse grunt and set me back brusquely. I stared after him, wondering about his sudden shift in mood as he left without a word.

Lord, I hope he isn’t foul-tempered the rest of the day. Wouldn’t that be a right disaster? I thought with trepidation. We were supposed to spend the day hanging about the West End with my parents, exploring Whiteley’s and such. I showered quickly, not wanting to linger in the tub as was my usual habit. The day was cold and fair, much like my husband. Dressing and coming downstairs, I saw Draco talking to my parents, politely, but with none of the warmth from last night. When he turned to see me, his face turned sullen.

“Are you quite ready?”

His tone set something off in me. “Are you?” I asked snappishly.

“Have been for ages, darling.”

“Then let’s go.” I swept over to the closet and pulled my coat on. I tossed him his and smirked when he caught it ungracefully.

My parents exchanged a look but followed after us silently. I knew what that look meant. I would be on the end of a very thorough interrogation later.
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After this morning, I was in no mood to be dragged around Muggle bloody London for the better part of a day. They moved around in a post-Yule haze like slow-moving cattle. Which, I suppose, is what they were. Every time I looked at Hermione’s tight little face, the more I wanted to rant at her, to rave; I was very near to the end of my tether.

How dare she refuse to love me? Not when I feel that I am pouring my heart out every fucking day.

I was galled. I was indignant. I was humiliated.

The worst part was that she had no idea that I knew. How could she not know that I knew? I felt disgusted that I had seen fit to give her my name. She walked through the odd Muggle shopping center, her gait not yet unchanged but just the barest wisps of a roll in her hips.

I felt something ease in my rapidly cooling heart. Her tiny form just beginning to round itself out was endearing as hell. Still, who was she to reject my love?

The thought drew me up short. Love? Had I totally gone ‘round the bend? Did I love Granger? Swotty, know-it-all Granger? But even my thoughts had changed during the short time we had been together. I couldn’t even really think of her as “Granger” anymore. She was now Hermione, plain and simple.

And I think I love her.

Shit.