Second Time Around

“Harry, I fucked up…I fucked up bad,” Ron croaked, his voice breaking, his eyes red rimmed. Harry looked at his best mate, the one friend who had been with him through the beginning besides Hermione. Harry hated this, hated the whole damn business. When Ron and Hermione had gotten married he’d been truly happy. They’d been trying so hard for so long to make it and once the war was over, they were able to let their love bloom. He’d been ecstatic at their wedding, had made their toast and had sent them on their honeymoon with his overly large inheritance. Then he’d watched in sadness as over the past three years their relationship had slowly changed, they had slowly changed. About six months ago he’d been noticing some things about Ron that he had tried to ignore. It was tough being stuck in between his best mate and his closest friend. He knew Hermione didn’t deserve the way Ron was treating her but he didn’t want to lose his best friend by calling him out on it. After Ginny’s insistence he’d tried to bring it up, but it was no use. Ron absolutely refused to admit that he was cheating. Now Ron was sitting at his kitchen table at four thirty in the morning nursing a hangover and clutching a cup of tea for dear life. He looked like hell, his hair a ratted mess, his clothes dirty, his face tear streaked. Harry listened, his own tea growing cold in his cup as Ron confessed.

“Harry, I don’t know what to do…I think I really hurt her…”

“Ron, of course you hurt her. Did you think an affair wouldn’t affect her?”

“No, Harry…I mean really…gods, I screwed up…I didn’t mean to, honest, it was just one minute she screaming at me and I can’t think, I can’t even comprehend, and then she’s crying and shaking…I didn’t mean it, I didn’t want to, it just sort of happened…”

“What happened, Ron?”

His freckled faced friend looked up at him with pure terror in his features. “I hit her. I fucking hit her.”

“What?” Harry fought to keep control, he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Harry, I swear, I didn’t mean to! It was like it wasn’t even me doing it! It was just…she was yelling and accusing me and she was trying to leave and I just sort of flipped! You know how I get! I didn’t want her to leave, I don’t want her to go…I don’t know what happened.”

Harry took a deep breath. “Ron, how many times has this happened?”

“This is the first time, I swear Harry! I love her, you know I do, you know I would never…I don’t know what came over me…I fucked up so bad,” he cried, his palms pressing into his streaming eyes. Harry didn’t know what to say. A part of him knew that Ron needed him, needed someone to help him through this. He knew deep down that this wasn’t Ron; he would never have done something like that. But another part of him, the large part that thought about Hermione receiving the wrath of Ron’s anger, wanted to rage and scream, show Ron that he hadn’t lost his DA skills. He heard a small snap and looked down to realize he was gripping the teacup so hard it had cracked. He pushed the cup away.

“Ron, I can’t tell you it’s alright, because it’s not. I can’t condone your actions.”

“I know,” he sobbed. “I’m a git of the worst kind. I didn’t even think I could do something like that! I’ve n-never felt violent towards her before! Sure, we’d have a row, we’d fight and stuff but I’ve never wanted to hurt her, I still don’t! I l-love her man…even if I haven’t shown it. I don’t know what’s gotten into me…I’ve thrown it all away. I’ve worked so hard for this and now…fuck.”

Ron leaned back in his chair, eyes closed, tears still falling down his face. Harry wanted to reach out to him, to tell him it was alright, to comfort him as Ron had done so many times for Harry. But he couldn’t. He was having trouble seeing past Ron hitting Hermione, a girl he loved nearly as much as Ginny. His protective nature wanted to rip Ron limb from limb.

“Harry, if you want to hit me, I understand. Trust me, I’ve done enough of it myself.”

Indeed, Harry could see some light bruises on his face. Harry itched to take up the offer, but he knew it would do no good. He didn’t want to lose Ron but he had a duty by Hermione.

“Ron, I’m not going to hit you. But I am going to say this.” Harry leaned forward over the table, waited until Ron looked at him through puffy eyes. “You fucked up real bad, there’s no denying it. There’s no denying that right now I was to smash your bloody face in for what you’ve done to Hermione. There’s no taking back what you’ve done, but that doesn’t mean you have to continue. Stop fucking around, stop all this drinking. You’re a grown man for fucks sake, deal with it. Be the man I know you can be. But most of all, listen to this.” Harry glared at Ron who had the decency to cringe. “I defeated Voldemort for a reason. If you ever, ever hurt Hermione again, I won’t take pity on you for being my best mate. I will kill you. Stay away from her until you can get your act together. Do you understand me?”

Ron nodded, his blue eyes wide with fear. Harry hoped he finally understood the reality of the situation.

“Your wife, the woman you have loved since we were fourteen is slipping away. You went off and fucked other women, you treated her worse than dirt. You hit her. Don’t expect her to ever forgive you. But you better fucking get your shit together. She deserves a thousand times better than what you have delivered. Now be a man, be a husband, be the Ron I know is in there somewhere. Because right now, all I can see is a pathetic drunk fuck-up with no future. It’s slipping down the drain faster than you can imagine. If you want any chance to get her back, you best act up. Now get the fuck out of my kitchen before I decide against giving you one more chance and beat the living shit out of you.”

Ron nodded and stood. “I’ll do better Harry, I swear. You’re right, she deserves so much more. Do you think it’s too late?”

“I don’t know,” Harry admitted.

Ron gave one last curt nod. “Well, thanks for…you know.”

Harry waved it off and watched as Ron left through the fireplace. Harry stood slowly and gathered their cups. He chucked them both across the room and watched as they shattered against the wall. All he could think about was where Hermione was and how hurt she might be. He went into his office and dug out a quill and parchment, writing a hasty letter to Hermione and leaving it on the window sill for Hedwig when she returned. Then he snuck quietly to his bedroom that he shared with the love of his life, turning out the lights as he did. He stood for a moment just watching her sleep. Her red hair fell across the pillow and the blankets had fallen so they covered one leg. He smiled when he saw how far up her nightgown had ridden and the little stain on the pillow where she had drooled. The moon washed her features and he wondered how anyone could attack someone they loved so desperately. He couldn’t imagine raising a fist to this woman. It sickened him at the thought. He crawled in next to her, being careful not to wake her but it didn’t matter, she slept through everything. With the back of his fingers he pushed some wayward strands away from her face and worried about Hermione. Who would do this to her? Who would crawl into bed next to her and cherish her as she should be, as she deserved to be? How would Ron ever be able to get her back?

“Turn off that mind, Potter, and get inside me,” Ginny mumbled next to him. He smiled widely and positioned himself over her, pulling off the pajama pants he had thrown on with Ron’s arrival.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a grin which ended on a groan as he slid into her wet passage. He cherished his wife’s body and swore to himself that he would do everything in his power to keep her his for the rest of his life.

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Hermione looked up at the knock. She stared at a blurry version of Malfoy, but there was no mistake it was him. Pulling off her reading glasses she looked at him confusedly and glanced at her watch. It was only 12:45.

“I’m sorry, did we plan something? I must have forgotten,” she mumbled, trying to orient herself. She did this a lot, got so immersed in her work that she forgot about what was going on around her. Ripping her mind from the case of a missing goblet that was supposedly Merlin’s, she tried to remember what she had forgotten.

“No, we did not plan anything. I assumed, and I think correctly, that you had not yet had lunch so I thought we could go together,” he said, stepping into her office.

“Oh, er,” she dug out a spreadsheet she had been working on and placed it on her documents about Merlin’s old possessions and where they were found along the lines of time before shuffling around for her date book. She finally found it and turned it to the right day, trying to figure out if she had any meetings.

“I don’t think I can,” she admitted. “I really have to finish this and I have a meeting at 2:30 with Yerson…”

“That gives us nearly two hours. I can have you back in one. Come, you can’t go without eating.”

“Oh, but I’m really not hungry-,” she protested. It was true, her stomach burned at the thought of food.

“Did you have a late breakfast?”

“Er…” She’d never been good at lying.

“That’s what I thought. Come, indulge me.”

She looked up at him, a plea in her eyes. “Malfoy, I can’t go out like this.”

After a moment he seemed to understand. “Then I will simply have to bring it to you.”

“It’s not necessary-,”

“You know, you have an uncanny habit of saying that quite a lot. In fact it is necessary that you eat and since you won’t go to the food, I shall have to bring it to you.”

“Malfoy, you’re doing too much. I know you are a very busy man and I can’t afford to have you doing all this.”

“What do you mean, afford?” he asked, darkly.

“Well, I assume you are adding all that you are doing into my bill and with my limited income I can’t-,”

“Stop right there, don’t say another word before you really start to piss me off.”

She stared at him, taken aback. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean-,”

“Do you really think I’m going to charge you for this? Any of this? And if you say yes you’re going to have to deal with a very angry, very dangerous ex-criminal. Did you really think I’d forget so easily what you did for me all those years ago? Hermione, you saved my life, the least I can do is help you fix yours. So I suggest before you insult me to stop putting everything into line and columns of debts that will need to be repaid and just accept what I am doing is being done out of friendship and respect. I would not be helping you if it did not please me to do so. I haven’t changed that much.”

Hermione was quiet for a minute, thoroughly bashed. “Malfoy-,”

“Draco.”

She stilled. “Draco. I didn’t mean to insult you. I appreciate everything you are doing for me. I’m just not used to it,” she smiled sadly. “Of course I’ll go to lunch with you. I’ll grab my coat.”

She stood to take it off the hook by her door but Malfoy beat her to it, pulling it off and holding it for her to slip her arms into. She was more than a little stirred by the feel of his warm hands on her shoulders as he smoothed the material.

“Come, I’ve made reservations,” his silky voice sounded from above her. She nearly hummed in pleasure at the reverberation but mentally slapped herself and followed Malfoy to the apparition point outside and took his proffered arm, gripping tightly as he whirled around and they landed outside a buzzing Italian restaurant. It was definitely a magical joint if the floating pitchers of water and candles had anything to say about it. Not to mention the hag convention going on in a company room and two warlocks who were discussing the latest story in the Daily Prophet. Malfoy gave the waiter his name and he hurriedly showed them their table in a far corner, cut away from the rest. Hermione looked around uncomfortably at the highly romantic setting.

“It’s only lunch,” Malfoy insisted, putting her mind at ease. A little.

When the wine was brought out she refused any as her stomach really was aching. She ordered a mild soup and salad, hoping that would put it at ease.

“Could you do me a favor?” Malfoy asked, sipping his own wine.

“Of course,” she said.

“Could you speak to Potter about giving me his home name so I can call on you if it is necessary? Owls take too long.”

“Why would you be calling on me at Harry’s house?”

“Well, I had assumed you would be staying with him and Ginny, am I not right?”

She shook her head. “No, they’ve had enough trouble in this whole business and I don’t want them to be involved anymore than necessary.”

“Then where are you staying? With your parents?”

“No, they don’t know anything about this. I don’t want them to know until after it’s settled.”

“Where are you staying, Hermione? I can’t believe that bas-Weasley,” he corrected, obviously about to call him some name. “Is letting you stay at home while he finds a new place?”

“No, the house is his, I don’t want it anymore.”

He raised an eyebrow at her, indicating that he knew she was avoiding the question. “Alright, if you must know, Crookshanks and I have taken residence in a very nice hotel.” She was a liar. A filthy liar, but not nearly as filthy as the shack she was in that classified as a ‘hotel’.

“You’re staying in a hotel?”

“Yes.”

“Shit, Hermione!"

“Keep your voice down!” she scolded, looking around them. No one had looked up but she still did not want to make a scene.

“You’re going to Weston House tonight. You can’t be staying in some flea-ridden hotel. If you are uncomfortable with my presence then I will stay at my apartment, but you can’t be staying at a place like that. It’s not safe.”

“It’s perfectly safe! And it’s not flea-ridden!” At least she hoped so. “Malfoy, seriously-,”

“Draco.”

She sighed. “Draco. I can’t put you out like this. It’s not proper. What if one of your friends came by? How would you explain something like that?”

“My friends won’t come by,” he assured her.

“How do you know?”

“Because you are the only other person who knows Weston House exists,” he said with all seriousness. “It’s un-plottable, un-navigable, and the only fireplace connected to it is the one in my office. He won’t find you there and no one will be stopping by to ruin your reputation.”

Hermione didn’t know how to respond to the fact that he had taken her someplace he had not deemed necessary to show others. She was the only one who knew…

“Why?” she asked, not able to form any other question.

“Because it’s my turn.”

She said nothing. She understood now. He was paying her back. It was nothing he hadn’t said before but now it really stuck. This had nothing to do with a lawyer-client relationship or any sort of friendship or deeper emotion. This simply had to do with him no longer wanting to be in debt of her. She didn’t want to take his offer but to do so would mean he could finally settle the score in his warped mind and she could go back to her life.

“Alright,” she said, reluctantly. “I’ll meet you there tonight. We can have out meeting in the office there so I can gather my things from the hotel. I’ll meet you there at nine.”

He nodded, satisfied and when the food came they ate in relative silence, again, speaking only to comment on food or weather. Again. Hermione knew she only had to stick with this for a few days until she could secure an apartment. After she’d done so he would no longer feel obligated to her and this fiasco would finally be over. They stood to leave when she accidently bumped into a tall woman.

“Excuse me,” she started then paled as she saw the face.

“Mrs. Weasley! Or should I say, Miss Granger again? Lovely!” Rita Skeeter bared two rows of brilliantly white teeth behind a layer of cheap red lipstick and started to grope into her crocodile handbag.

“Marcus, over here, quick! No, no leave Miss Mencus be, we’ll get to her in a moment,” she called and licked the tip of her Quick Quotes Quill while Hermione attempted to scoot around her but the nasty woman grasped her upper arm, thankfully, the one which had not been bruised. “Now, my dear, I have heard a rumor that you and Mr. Weasley are breaking up! What did you do to cause such a horrible occurrence?”

“No comment,” she said, irritated.

Marcus had stumbled over, knocking down a waiter in the process and sending him to the floor with a crash. He began snapping pictures immediately and Hermione twisted her arm to remove herself from the witch’s claws when Malfoy stepped up behind her and placed a hand on her back.

“Miss Skeeter, I would put that damnable quill away if I were you. We have no comments.”

The horrible woman narrowed her eyes at Malfoy from behind her tacky glasses. “Draco Malfoy! Well, well, well, what have we here?”

“A lawsuit, if you do not remove your hand from Miss Granger at once.”

Rita looked down to where she was still gripping Hermione painfully hard and let go with a smile.

“Excuse my excitement. Now, if we could take a moment-,”

“We have both told you we had nothing to say now if you will excuse us we would like to leave,” Malfoy said, steering her away and inadvertently showing Rita a full view of Hermione’s very bruised face. Marcus went nuts, the purple smoke from his camera choking Hermione as he snapped picture after picture while Rita gasped.

“My dear! Who has done this to you? Was it your husband? Did you fight? Who won? Is he injured?”

Malfoy snapped, grabbing the camera and throwing it across the restaurant and shoving Rita to the side while pushing Hermione through the diner, weaving between tables. Rita was not deterred.

“Who do you think you are? I was talking to Miss Granger-,”

“Her lawyer,” he said tersely and propelling Hermione onto the street outside. Hermione dislodged herself from his grasp and turned to face the bint who had made Harry’s life hell all those years ago.

“Now, listen here,” she yelled, her patience at an end. “It’s none of your damn business what I do in my spare time. If you were missing your jar you should have just asked because I can make it appear real easily.” She conjured a jam jar in mid-air and watched as Rita paled. “If you don’t want to spend the next year in here, I suggest you sod off.”

Hermione shoved the jar into Rita’s bewildered hands and marched away towards the apparition point. Malfoy caught her elbow and apparated back to the Ministry. Hermione tried to get away but Malfoy was not about to be shunned.

“Whoa, whoa, not so fast. What the bloody hell was that all about?” he asked, looking at her incredulously.

“You know as well as I do how Rita gets her stories. You were the one feeding her all that bogus information about Harry in our fourth year.”

“How do you know she’s an animagus?”

“My intelligence doesn’t stop at books,” she remarked, irritated. This was exactly why she hadn’t wanted to go out. She didn’t want the questions, the accusations. She just wanted to get her life back on track peacefully, without interference. She turned and walked away, pulling her hair in front of her face and wishing Ginny had taught her how to get rid of blemishes. She knew Malfoy was following her and had an eerie feeling of being watched. She wished he would just stop looking at her. She felt as though everyone’s eyes were on her, silently taunting her. She jumped when she saw a man looking at her and scolded herself when he simply passed her by without a second glance.

She was getting paranoid.

Hermione was able to make it back to her office without being questioned and slammed her door shut only to have it whipped back open.

“I believe our lunch is over, I have work to do,” she snapped, not looking up.

“Hermione, I’m sorry about this afternoon, I didn’t think-,”

“That was obvious,” she snorted then placed her hand on her forehead and taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t your fault, I know it. I’m just a little shook up. That woman can still get under my skin,” she admitted.

Malfoy walked up behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. She wanted so desperately to sink into their warmth and comfort as she had that morning, but she knew she could not. She needed to put up guards, to stop being so vulnerable. But his hands began to knead the tension there and her eyelids lowered, her neck fell forward. Well, maybe just for a moment…

“Hermione?”

Hermione jumped out of Malfoy’s hands and turned to see her blushing secretary. “I didn’t mean to interrupt…”

“No, no Mary, you weren’t interrupting anything,” Hermione assured her. “Was there something you wanted to tell me?”

“Yes, this came for you and Mitchell Keller wanted to see you. Oh, and don’t forget your appointment at 2:30.”

“Yes, thank you Mary. Why don’t you take an early lunch?” she suggested, knowing the young mother was tired and always tried to see her daughter during her half-hour breaks. This would give her plenty of time to stop in and see the little girl and eat a decent meal. She really needed to get Mary some paid vacation…

Mary smiled brightly and bid her goodbye, nodding to Malfoy on her way out. Hermione fingered the parchment envelope and walked behind her desk.

“Thank you for lunch, it was lovely,” she said, hoping he’d get the hint. He did and told her he’d see her tonight. When the door clicked shut, Hermione sank onto her chair and slit the envelope open, hoping it wasn’t from Ron. But it was simply a note from Katie Bell, who also worked in her department, asking if she could stop by her office after her meeting and look over a few briefs she was having trouble wrapping up. Hermione jotted her a quick affirmative and handed it to the young intern who took over for Mary when she went on breaks. She quickly finished the documentation she had been working on when Mafloy had interrupted her and, gathering her papers on the Martin’s case, she hurried over to Mitchell’s office where he caught her up on the latest about the twenty-year-old boy who had cast the Imperious Curse on his mother to make her buy him a new racing broom. Shaking her head, she ran out of his office at a dash to meet Yerson for a quick wrap up a horrible domestic dispute which ended in three people in St. Mungo’s, one of them with a turnip permanently attached to his nose. The meeting ran over-long causing her to be late getting to Katie who questioned her non-stop about the bruises on her face making it quite hard to concentrate on the shotty briefs some intern had written up causing a fiasco in getting them corrected and filed. By the time she fell back into her office a pile of folders were awaiting her and with a sigh, she settled down to what promised to be a very long evening.

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A/N: Sorry it’s taken me so long. Hope you are enjoying,

XOXO

RynStar15