Crimes of the Heart
folder
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Sirius/Hermione
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
4
Views:
9,229
Reviews:
22
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Sirius/Hermione
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
4
Views:
9,229
Reviews:
22
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Chapter 3
Chapter 3.
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Draco Malfoy emerged from the vast walk-in closet he shared with his wife carrying an expensive dark blue button down dress shirt that he had selected to wear that day. He stopped in front of the lengthwise mirror and slowly pulled on the shirt, taking his time fastening the buttons one by one.
He was stalling. His wife had never come home the previous night and though it certainly was not the first time that had happened, it was the first time that he had been provided with unequivocal evidence that she hadn’t been where she claimed to have gone. Usually when she left for the night, she would return before he awoke but it was now nine o’clock in the morning and she still hadn’t returned.
He wished he was angry, in truth, part of him was… part of him was seething… but that sliver of anger was eclipsed by worry. Anger was no longer part of who Draco Malfoy was.
The war and all the darkness he had seen in his young life had taught him that there was no sense in dwelling on resentment. And when he had married Hermione Granger, it reinforced his desire to change the way he saw the world. They had been young and carefree in the wake of the battle, reveling in their innocence.
Walking over to his nightstand, he pulled open the drawer and removed a tarnished silver photo frame. Sinking onto the bed, he gripped the ornate frame between his hands and gazed at the photo it held as he often did when he was alone.
The photo was taken at the beginning of their marriage. He hadn’t the faintest idea whose camera had captured the moment but he vividly remembered the day. Hermione had dragged him along to the Weasley’s home for Ginny’s seventeenth birthday party. He had been invited, of course; as Hermione’s husband, the Weasleys and even Harry Potter had tentatively but graciously welcomed him into their extended family, but he had been incredibly awkward at first.
As the large group of family and friends had chorused a laughable rendition of Happy Birthday, Hermione had taken Draco’s hand in hers to relax him, sensing his degree of alienation. He had leaned down to kiss her softly and rested his forehead against hers when somewhere among the chatter, a camera flash had gone off.
A week later, Hermione had presented him with the idyllic photo in the beautiful silver frame.
Draco watched over and over again as the Draco in the photo caressed his wife’s cheek and kissed her softly as she beamed up at him, resting one hand upon her visibly pregnant belly.
Draco’s reminiscence was disturbed suddenly when the stillness of Malfoy Manor was upset by a loud echoing crack announcing an apparated arrival in the foyer two floors below.
Draco looked up from the photo as Hermione dashed into their bedroom. She nearly ran right past him when his voice stopped her dead in her tracks.
“Good morning, Mrs. Malfoy,” He greeted her routinely, the same way he had every morning for the past three years.
Hermione spun around, genuinely shocked to see him.
“Draco! Why aren’t you at the office?” She asked, slightly out of breath from running up two flights of stairs.
Draco watched her silently for a moment and set the picture frame down upon the bed.
“I was a bit worried that I hadn’t heard from you since you left to your parent’s house last night,” He said. That was entirely true.
Hermione wrung her hands guiltily.
“I’m sorry to have worried you,” She answered, noticing the bags under his eyes indicating that he probably had not slept. “You weren’t up all night, were you?”
Draco smiled at her, a barely perceptible sadness traced his features.
“Not all night, no,” He lied. In truth, he had not slept a wink, tossing and turning for hours, he had eventually retreated to his study to use the small hours of the morning to complete some paperwork for the Ministry. “But as I ended up getting quite a bit of work done during the hours that I was awake, I thought it best that I wait here until I knew you had arrived home safely. I had half a mind to floo your parents to look in on you.”
Hermione jumped, lunging towards the bed. “You didn’t!” She gasped.
He shook his head calmly. “No, I didn’t.”
Hermione exhaled with enormous relief, her heart was racing though. For a moment she had assumed the worst.
“But you are awfully late getting home this morning,” He continued, her reactions were succeeding in filling in the missing pieces to thoughts he had hoped never to encounter in his marriage. “You are going to be late getting to work.”
His wife nodded. “Yes, I… overslept,” She lied quickly, rummaging through her drawers for a fresh change of clothes.
Draco absentmindedly traced his finger along the edge of the photo frame as he watched Hermione disappear into the bathroom. She came back a few seconds later to hastily grab her bathrobe when she stopped to see what Draco was holding.
Craning her neck to look across the bed, Draco tried to conceal the ornate metal within his hands but she immediately recognized the frame and knew what it was.
Her expression hardened and she looked back up at him.
“Where did that come from?” She asked quietly.
Draco did not answer. He looked from the radiant Hermione in the photo to the toughened and worn version of his wife who stood before him now, amazed at the difference three years could make.
Hermione snatched up her robe and walked towards the bathroom. Before closing the door behind her she stopped with her back to him and said with finality, “Get rid of that photograph, Draco... please.”
The door clicked shut as Hermione pressed her back against the barrier between herself and the life she tried so desperately to forget. Crossing to the tub, she turned on the faucet allowing the steaming water to sting her fingers as the bath slowly filled, the dull thundering sound of water on porcelain drowning out her muffled sobs.
On the opposite side of the bathroom door, Draco tucked his most precious possession far back into his nightstand drawer. He would never be able to bring himself to part with it.
__________________________________________________________________________________________
Thanks for reading!
__________________________________________________________________________________________
Draco Malfoy emerged from the vast walk-in closet he shared with his wife carrying an expensive dark blue button down dress shirt that he had selected to wear that day. He stopped in front of the lengthwise mirror and slowly pulled on the shirt, taking his time fastening the buttons one by one.
He was stalling. His wife had never come home the previous night and though it certainly was not the first time that had happened, it was the first time that he had been provided with unequivocal evidence that she hadn’t been where she claimed to have gone. Usually when she left for the night, she would return before he awoke but it was now nine o’clock in the morning and she still hadn’t returned.
He wished he was angry, in truth, part of him was… part of him was seething… but that sliver of anger was eclipsed by worry. Anger was no longer part of who Draco Malfoy was.
The war and all the darkness he had seen in his young life had taught him that there was no sense in dwelling on resentment. And when he had married Hermione Granger, it reinforced his desire to change the way he saw the world. They had been young and carefree in the wake of the battle, reveling in their innocence.
Walking over to his nightstand, he pulled open the drawer and removed a tarnished silver photo frame. Sinking onto the bed, he gripped the ornate frame between his hands and gazed at the photo it held as he often did when he was alone.
The photo was taken at the beginning of their marriage. He hadn’t the faintest idea whose camera had captured the moment but he vividly remembered the day. Hermione had dragged him along to the Weasley’s home for Ginny’s seventeenth birthday party. He had been invited, of course; as Hermione’s husband, the Weasleys and even Harry Potter had tentatively but graciously welcomed him into their extended family, but he had been incredibly awkward at first.
As the large group of family and friends had chorused a laughable rendition of Happy Birthday, Hermione had taken Draco’s hand in hers to relax him, sensing his degree of alienation. He had leaned down to kiss her softly and rested his forehead against hers when somewhere among the chatter, a camera flash had gone off.
A week later, Hermione had presented him with the idyllic photo in the beautiful silver frame.
Draco watched over and over again as the Draco in the photo caressed his wife’s cheek and kissed her softly as she beamed up at him, resting one hand upon her visibly pregnant belly.
Draco’s reminiscence was disturbed suddenly when the stillness of Malfoy Manor was upset by a loud echoing crack announcing an apparated arrival in the foyer two floors below.
Draco looked up from the photo as Hermione dashed into their bedroom. She nearly ran right past him when his voice stopped her dead in her tracks.
“Good morning, Mrs. Malfoy,” He greeted her routinely, the same way he had every morning for the past three years.
Hermione spun around, genuinely shocked to see him.
“Draco! Why aren’t you at the office?” She asked, slightly out of breath from running up two flights of stairs.
Draco watched her silently for a moment and set the picture frame down upon the bed.
“I was a bit worried that I hadn’t heard from you since you left to your parent’s house last night,” He said. That was entirely true.
Hermione wrung her hands guiltily.
“I’m sorry to have worried you,” She answered, noticing the bags under his eyes indicating that he probably had not slept. “You weren’t up all night, were you?”
Draco smiled at her, a barely perceptible sadness traced his features.
“Not all night, no,” He lied. In truth, he had not slept a wink, tossing and turning for hours, he had eventually retreated to his study to use the small hours of the morning to complete some paperwork for the Ministry. “But as I ended up getting quite a bit of work done during the hours that I was awake, I thought it best that I wait here until I knew you had arrived home safely. I had half a mind to floo your parents to look in on you.”
Hermione jumped, lunging towards the bed. “You didn’t!” She gasped.
He shook his head calmly. “No, I didn’t.”
Hermione exhaled with enormous relief, her heart was racing though. For a moment she had assumed the worst.
“But you are awfully late getting home this morning,” He continued, her reactions were succeeding in filling in the missing pieces to thoughts he had hoped never to encounter in his marriage. “You are going to be late getting to work.”
His wife nodded. “Yes, I… overslept,” She lied quickly, rummaging through her drawers for a fresh change of clothes.
Draco absentmindedly traced his finger along the edge of the photo frame as he watched Hermione disappear into the bathroom. She came back a few seconds later to hastily grab her bathrobe when she stopped to see what Draco was holding.
Craning her neck to look across the bed, Draco tried to conceal the ornate metal within his hands but she immediately recognized the frame and knew what it was.
Her expression hardened and she looked back up at him.
“Where did that come from?” She asked quietly.
Draco did not answer. He looked from the radiant Hermione in the photo to the toughened and worn version of his wife who stood before him now, amazed at the difference three years could make.
Hermione snatched up her robe and walked towards the bathroom. Before closing the door behind her she stopped with her back to him and said with finality, “Get rid of that photograph, Draco... please.”
The door clicked shut as Hermione pressed her back against the barrier between herself and the life she tried so desperately to forget. Crossing to the tub, she turned on the faucet allowing the steaming water to sting her fingers as the bath slowly filled, the dull thundering sound of water on porcelain drowning out her muffled sobs.
On the opposite side of the bathroom door, Draco tucked his most precious possession far back into his nightstand drawer. He would never be able to bring himself to part with it.
__________________________________________________________________________________________
Thanks for reading!