The More Things Change

Disclaimer: JKR owns all characters.

Hermione stared at the scroll on her antique desk, wondering what its contents held. She had been staring at the scroll for the past few hours, ever since it had been delivered from the eagle which she had recognized the moment it tapped on her window.

She found she didn’t want to open the scroll because she knew it would take her back to another time and place that she had tried valiantly to escape. She had moved to the United States three years ago and had finally settled down in Boston after receiving a job in a pharmaceutical research laboratory. She didn’t want to give that up, and she knew whatever was in the scroll would force her to abandon her new life and confront the pain and heartache of her old one.

Steeling herself with a few glasses of wine hadn’t helped as much as she had hoped. With trembling hands, Hermione finally worked up enough courage and reached for the letter. She recognized the scrawl immediately and felt another wave of nervousness attack her as she read:

Hermione,

My mother passed away. I know you knew of her cancer, as I caught her writing to you once. It seemed that conversing with you made her happy, so I could not find it in my heart to deny her that pleasure as much as I would have liked to. Whether you like it or not, you are still my wife, which means you will come to the Manor for her funeral. While I have been able to explain your absence at many important events over the last few years, one place I will not explain your absence is my mother’s funeral.

I am assuming that wherever you are you will have access to a Floo connection, and if for some reason you have none, I know that you are intelligent enough to have one set up for this purpose. However, if I’m wrong and your intelligence has diminished, you could always Apparate here as you are aware of the coordinates. Apparation has never been your strong suit if I remember correctly, so send immediate word if you choose this method of returning home so we can prepare to make up for your shortcomings. We will put the house-elves on alert and have them standing by with the smelling salts and the ice water you always seemed to need.

I am completely aware that you had intended never to return home, but the one thing I do have faith in is that you will not disrespect my mother’s memory by ignoring this request. I am sure that the two of us can manage to act like civilized adults when together in this troubling time.

Draco

Hermione hadn’t realized she was crying until a tear dropped onto the letter, blurring Draco’s signature. She and Narcissa had become close after Hermione had married Draco and moved into the Manor. When she had left and fled to the United States, Narcissa was the only one she had said goodbye to before leaving. Her mother-in-law had tried to convince her to stay, but Hermione was adamant. They had continued to send owls back and forth every week over the past few years. Hermione had seen Narcissa as a surrogate mother ever since her own parents had been killed in a Death Eater attack in her last year at Hogwarts. It hurt to know that Narcissa was gone as well, and Hermione felt extremely guilty that she hadn’t seen her one last time before she had passed on.

Wiping her tears away and reading over the letter once more, Hermione began to get angry. In between all the personal digs and insults which she was able to shrug off from the teasing she had endured from him while in school, Draco had mentioned having to explain her absence at several important functions. It didn’t surprise her in the least that he was still deceiving people into thinking they were still together; after all, he was a Malfoy and Malfoys didn’t admit weaknesses. Admitting that his wife had left him would have been a huge show of weaknesses in both Draco and Lucius’ eyes. She wondered what story Draco could have possibly spun that was good enough to fool everyone for three years, but as she reconsidered she realized that people probably had not believed him, but no one would ever have had the courage to vocalize their doubt over something a Malfoy had said.

While their name wasn’t held in as high a regard as it had been in the past, it had gained some of its former glory after the war had been fought and it had been revealed to the public that both Draco and Lucius had been spies for the Order in the last year of the war.

In the past three years, Hermione had tried not to think of the war and how her life had been back then. While she had many memories of that time, the bad had outweighed the good. Harry had fallen in the final battle after defeating Voldemort once and for all, and Ron had never been the same without Harry. She and Ron had lost touch after she married Draco, and while most had thought the distance had come because she had married Draco, the truth was that without Harry, the glue holding the friendship together had dissolved. Once upon a time she had thought she would have married Ron, but it was after a few months of dating that she realized Ron was more like her brother and couldn’t hold a decent conversation with her, which was something she had craved.

Draco had at least been able to hold intelligent conversations with her. She remembered now those long conversations they had shared in Grimmauld Place during the last few months of the war. They had been able to talk about anything and everything while they researched ancient spells they were hoping would help Harry in the battle against Voldemort. She had fallen in love with him during those conversations, finally seeing him as more than a spoiled rich kid and realizing that he had always been so harsh to her because he preferred to play on another’s faults instead of recognizing his own.

They had married a few weeks after the war had ended. Thinking back on it, Hermione tried to justify why she had rushed into the marriage, blaming it on losing Harry and the fear of being alone, but she finally had to admit to herself that she had married him simply because she loved him.

She still cared for him, but after all they had been through, the love that they had once shared was dead. That much was obvious in the letter Draco had written her demanding that she return to the Manor. The Draco she used to know wouldn’t demand anything, but the Draco she used to know didn’t exist anymore.

Hermione finished her glass of wine, resigned to the fact she was returning to the one place she had never wanted to see again.

* * * * * * * * *

Hermione brushed the ashes from her traveling cloak and smoothed down her unruly hair. She had traveled by Floo because, as much as she hated to admit it, Draco was dead right about her hatred of Apparating.

“Miss Hermione! Tilly is so excited to be seeing you!”

Hermione braced herself for the house-elf who came flying towards her, clutching her around the knees and hugging her tight. Hermione knew this was the warmest welcome she would ever receive at Malfoy Manor and the truth was, Tilly had been the only one Hermione had been excited to see as well. “TIlly! It’s so good to see you! I’ve missed you so much!” She could see the tears leaking out of the house-elf’s large eyes at her confession, and it warmed her heart.

“It’s nice to see some people haven’t changed. Still treating house-elves like people, I see,” drawled a voice over Hermione’s shoulder.

Hermione felt nervous at hearing Draco’s voice after so long, but she put a smile on her face and turned to see him. His good looks hadn’t changed at all, and all the old feelings she had for him hit her like a ton of bricks. If anything, he had gotten even more handsome over the years. The last time she had seen him, he had let his hair grow long like his father, but now it was cut short, just like in the days when they had fallen in love. She could tell he had just run his hand through it due to a few spikes still standing up straight. His pale skin had managed to get a bit tanner, though his grey eyes seemed more mysterious and guarded.

She blushed when she realized Draco was assessing her as well. She was surprised when he didn’t make a snide remark about her appearance as she had put on at least fifteen pounds since he had seen her and looked quite a bit different. She thought she looked more like a normal woman, but with a man as vain as Draco, she was sure he would have preferred her as thin as she had once been.

Still looking at Hermione, Draco said, “Tilly, take Mrs. Malfoy’s bags up to my room, and then bring some tea and biscuits into the sitting room.”

“Tilly, take my bags to one of the guest rooms, please,” Hermione corrected, locked in a stare-down with Draco, trying to gain the upper hand.

“My room, Tilly. The guest rooms are all full,” he sneered before turning and heading into the sitting room.

Hermione looked down at Tilly and offered her a nervous smile. She wasn’t sure whether Draco was lying about the guest rooms being full, but she could plainly see that Tilly wanted to make her happy after not seeing her for so long, and while she didn’t want to disobey her master, she wanted to make Hermione happy. “Listen to Draco, Tilly. No sense in getting him riled up.”

“Yes, Miss Hermione,” Tilly said and bowed low so that her nose nearly touched the floor. She snapped her fingers, using her kind of magic to levitate Hermione’s bag up the stairs. “Tilly is very happy to haves Miss Hermione home, yes, Tilly is,” she heard the house-elf squeak as she followed the bag upstairs.

Hermione waited until Tilly reached the second floor landing before she took a deep breath and stepped into the sitting room to confront her husband. Draco was standing in front of one of the large windows, staring out and nursing a glass of Firewhisky. She could feel the tension in the room and could see the anger evident on his face. She didn’t know whether he was angry because she was back in the Manor, or if he was still angry because she had left the Manor in the first place.

Draco had written in the letter that he was sure the two of them could act like adults around each other, but Hermione didn’t really know if that was true. The way she had just packed up and run in the first place was childish in itself, and she had never given Draco a real explanation as to why she had gone, so she knew it was a topic bound to be discussed now that she was here again.

“Everything still looks the same,” she said timidly at Draco’s back after glancing around the room. Narcissa’s touch was still evident, from the fresh vase of lilies by the window to the antique tea set on the table by the door.

Draco grunted irritably, jiggling the ice in his glass. “The more things change, the more they stay the same.”

“Speaking of things changing,” Hermione said, clearing her throat, “I brought along some paperwork I had drawn up.”

Draco turned to face her so fast, Hermione was surprised he didn’t spin completely in a circle. “Paperwork?” he questioned harshly.

“Erm…yes.” Hermione reached into her beaded purse and pulled out the blue legal documents. “I had these drawn up over a year ago, but I…I never sent them to you.” She flinched when Draco grabbed the papers from her hands and began paging through them. “Those are the divorce papers that are recognized in the Muggle world. They basically state that your fortune and assets remain yours and the only thing I’m requesting in the separation is to reclaim my maiden name. As for the wizarding world, they don’t require any paperwork other than the form we will sign at the unbonding ceremony. I’ll be here for a few days, so the unbonding can be done as soon as you want to go to the Ministry.”

“No,” Draco barked, staring daggers at Hermione, surprising her. She assumed he would be happy that she had done all the legwork in terminating their marriage. His outrage was something she hadn’t quite expected.

“No?” she questioned softly.

“Ah, Hermione, it’s great to have you back in residence again, my dear,” Lucius interjected entering the room. Lucius headed straight towards his daughter-in-law, truly delighted to see her even as he noted the distressed expression on her face. Lucius grasped her warm hands in his and squeezed gently as he leaned down and kissed her on the cheek.

Glancing towards his son, Lucius noticed the open fury in Draco’s normally subdued gaze. He raised his eyebrow at him and drawled, “I trust I’m not interrupting anything?”

Draco could hear the sarcasm in his father’s voice, but he wasn’t going to allow his father to see him so emotional. “No, nothing at all, Father,” Draco spat, giving his wife one last harsh look and stormed from the room, still clutching the offensive papers in his hand.

Hermione sighed deeply. She hadn’t meant to upset Draco so much, but she had always assumed a divorce was what he had wanted. He had wanted to be rid of her back then so she assumed he still wanted to be rid of her now, but the papers had caused an unexpected reaction. She decided to chalk it up to Draco always wanting control over every situation. He would have wanted the divorce to seem like his idea, and with her bringing the papers to him, he would see it as her idea.

“I never should have come back,” Hermione said softly as she headed to the sideboard and poured two fingers of Firewhisky into a tumbler.

“He really is pleased to have you back,” Lucius stated as he moved to Hermione’s side.

Hermione raised her eyebrow and chuckled at Lucius’ absurd statement. “Why, Lucius, you used to be such a skilled liar. What has happened to you since I’ve been gone?”

“Think what you want, my dear, but I know my son. He is very glad you are home. What you are seeing from Draco is the only emotion he can show you right now. Don’t forget that you were the one who left him with no explanation. This rage that he is showing is covering up the one thing he would never allow you to see. Hermione, he’s hurting.”

“Draco wanted me to leave. I heard him say—” Hermione started then stopped. She shook her head. “I’m not here to rehash old issues. I’m here because the woman who treated me like her own daughter is gone. Oh, Lucius, I am so sorry for your loss.”

Lucius’ smile was uneven, as if he wasn’t sure whether to smile or frown, but he said, “One thing Narcissa wouldn’t have wanted was for anyone to cry over her. She would have wanted this to be a party.”

Hermione tried to reassure him with a smile. “No matter what anyone says about you and all the horrible things you’ve done in your past, the one thing that no one has ever doubted was the love you had for Narcissa.”

Lucius finally managed a small smile. “And that is the only thing I want to be remembered for.”

* * * * * * * * *

She knew she was stalling. She had strolled through the gardens, indulged herself in digging through books in the library that she had perused many times before and she had spent two hours in the kitchens with Tilly eating all the delicious desserts the house-elf had forced upon her. She had even run into a few relatives staying in the guest rooms and had spent time talking with them, lingering extra long in her conversation with Andromeda Tonks, the last of the Black sisters still alive.

She tried to do everything she could to delay having to go upstairs to Draco’s bedroom, their old bedroom, to sleep. She hadn’t seen Draco since he stormed out of the sitting room after she had given him the divorce papers and she certainly didn’t want their next confrontation to take place in the room where they had shared so many good times.

It suddenly hit Hermione that she never used to be this nervous over anything, even the N.E.W.T.s that she had studied so hard to pass in her seventh year of Hogwarts. She used to be courageous and brave. She had fought her way through the war, never knowing if she was going to make it through each battle and not caring because she wasn’t afraid to face danger. She had been a Gryffindor, for Merlin’s sake. Only the bravest were sorted into Gryffindor.

Her mind made up, Hermione stiffened her spine and marched up the stairs. She hurried down the west wing not allowing herself to stop and speak with the old portraits like she used to do, knowing if she stopped she would lose her nerve yet again.

She approached the double doors to the suite of rooms she had shared with Draco and took a deep breath. It was as if she was practicing Legilimency on herself as flashbacks of time they had spent in this very suite ran through her mind. She forced herself to stop remembering and pushed open the door stepping into the suite.

Hermione immediately noted that Draco hadn’t changed a thing. Her books were still lined up alphabetically on the shelf behind the white leather sofa Draco had purchased for her as a wedding gift, knowing she liked to stretch out and relax when she read. The beautiful landscape paintings she had purchased from Padma Patil after the wedding still hung on the walls in the exact same space she had charmed them to hang. Even the Oriental rug she had begged Draco to purchase at that Muggle flea market was still in the center of the hardwood floor.

She was actually glad to see the sofa still in the same spot, because that was where she was going to be spending the night. There was no way she would be sleeping in the bed with Draco. She looked around the room for her bags and quickly realized it would have been just like Tilly to unpack them for her.

She headed through the archway leading into the bedroom and said defiantly, “I’m only looking for my nightgown. I’ll be out of your way shortly.” She was surprised not to get a snide remark out of her husband, but she brushed it off and headed to her old closet. When she pulled open the door, she was stunned to find that all the clothes she had left behind were still hanging there. Draco had kept this suite of rooms as if she had never left him. Or, her cynical side thought, Draco had a mistress who liked wearing Hermione’s clothes as a reminder that she had stolen the husband right out from underneath the wife.

Instead of reaching for her favorite deep blue silk nightgown which Draco had purchased for her on one of his trips, and that she had chosen to leave behind, she reached for the plain white flannel cotton nightgown she had packed in her bag. Grabbing it quickly, she extinguished the light, closed the door and turned to head to the bedroom.

Hermione quickly realized why she hadn’t gotten a smart-ass retort from Draco as he was stretched out on the bed sleeping. Hermione refused to reason why it annoyed her a bit to find him asleep already.

She couldn’t help staring at him. It was the first chance she had gotten to assess her husband without him knowing it. As usual, he was sleeping naked on his back and he had kicked the blanket off most of his body. His pale chest looked more muscular, his new tone clearly visible on his still form. She could see the pink scar of the Dark Mark that still remained on his forearm even after Voldemort had finally been destroyed. Draco always said the scar he bore was his reminder to never allow the darkness he carried inside to rise to the surface.

Hermione found herself doing the same thing she had done through their whole marriage. She walked to the bed and pulled the down comforter up over his body, even knowing he would kick it off again in the night. Looking down at the handsome man she had married, Hermione reached out and brushed a stray lock of hair away from his closed eyes.

If anyone had been looking at her, they would have seen the wistful look on Hermione’s face before she turned to go into the loo and change.

Fortunately for Draco, he had only been feigning sleep and had seen the brief look that had passed over his wife’s face. While part of him was still angry at her, the honest truth was he still loved Hermione desperately and just seeing the look on her face, he was content in knowing that somewhere deep inside, Hermione did still love him. Hope restored, Draco pulled the cover up to his chin and closed his eyes, remembering the first time Hermione had shared this bed with him.

* * * * * * * * *

Hermione’s morose mood was reflected in the dreary overcast weather. She had tears in her eyes threatening to spill down her cheeks and each time she looked at Lucius, grief painted clearly on his face, her tears welled up even more.

Draco wasn’t doing very well either. She could feel how upset he was. A few moments ago he had reached for her hand, and she had allowed him to clutch it in his own. She could feel the tremors running through his body, and she just wanted to reach out and comfort him, but she couldn’t find it in herself to make a peace offering and risk being rejected in front of everyone.

As the service wrapped up and Narcissa’s tomb was encased in flames, Hermione felt herself being tugged by Draco away from the site and towards the house. She reached out to grasp Lucius’ hand in hers as well, and as a trio they headed up the walk back to the Manor, to the food and reception that was awaiting their guests.

Once inside the doors of the Manor, Hermione quickly released Draco’s hand and hurried to the loo to freshen up. She didn’t want to have to think about the fact that she and Draco had provided comfort to one another rather than push each other away like they had been doing the whole visit.

Hermione dreaded returning to the ballroom where the food had been arranged, as she had never been very fond of large crowds, especially crowds that she knew wouldn’t be very nice to her since she had abandoned them three years ago.

She had seen Ron and Luna outside, and at least Ron had offered her a small smile, but the same couldn’t be said for Ginny. Ginny, clutching Neville’s arm, had sent a look in her direction so frosty that Hermione wouldn’t have been surprised if all of Narcissa’s beautiful roses in the garden had shriveled up and died at that exact moment.

Knowing she would eventually have to face everyone no matter what, Hermione left the loo and ran smack dab into the one person she wanted to avoid waiting right outside the door.

“I’m sorry,” Hermione murmured. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

Ginny glared at her, assessing her, before she ordered, “We need to have a chat, you and I.”

“I don’t think this is the time or place,” Hermione tried to escape offering a lame excuse.

“You’re not getting off that easily, Hermione. I’m not letting you run away again without giving the people who are supposed to be your friends some answers.”

Defeated, Hermione nodded and led Ginny down the hallway to Lucius’ office. She knew he would be accepting condolences in the ballroom and wouldn’t have a need for the room at the present time.

The candles were already lit in the room as there seemed to be no light coming from the windows. Above the fireplace was a portrait of the Malfoys that had been painted about a year after she and Draco had married. She had been honored to be included in the portrait when it had been painted, but it looked as if her likeness no longer agreed. She seemed to be trying to edge out of the frame, grim determination and anger set on her face.

“Your parents look well,” she said to Ginny, hoping to start the conversation on the right note.

“Yes, I’m surprised myself how well Mum is doing today. She’s spent the last three years fretting over where you could have gone.”

“She didn’t have to worry about me,” Hermione said, immediately feeling guilty.

“You know Mum. She thought of you as her daughter just as I thought of you as a sister. When you just vanished, it was all we could do not to try and hunt you down, but the story we got from Ferret boy was that you didn’t want to be found. We didn’t look, but that didn’t stop Mum from worrying.” Ginny’s voice got a bit softer as she asked, “Why didn’t you come to us, Hermione? We could have helped you with whatever was going on.”

“It was complicated.”

“Life is complicated,” Ginny scoffed. “You’ll have to come up with a better excuse than that.”

“I was hurt deeply and my thinking wasn’t very rational back then. All I could think to do was run.”

“When you married Draco, were you really in love with him, or did you just fancy yourself in love with him?” Ginny asked out of the blue.

Startled, Hermione stuttered before answering, “Of course I loved him. Falling in love with Draco wasn’t how I had necessarily seen my life going, but once it happened, I accepted it.”

“Do you still love him?”

Blushing, Hermione responded, “It’s complicated.”

“It’s complicated,” Ginny mimicked. “It’s a simple question, Hermione. Either you still love him or you don’t.”

Knowing she was backed into a corner by a witch whose friendship she wanted to regain, Hermione knew she had to give the most honest answer possible. “I love the Draco I married. The Draco that knew I was enough for him, the Draco that didn’t betray me.” At Ginny’s raised eyebrow, Hermione continued on, the emotions she had kept inside for so long just flooding out. “I thought he loved me. I know he loved me until a few days before I left. I had always been confident in his love until the day Pansy Parkinson showed up on our doorstep. I had been reading a book in the garden and was heading back to the house when I heard the conversation she was having with Draco in the sitting room. The veranda doors had been open so I listened because you know I never trusted Parkinson as far as I could throw her. They were laughing and reminiscing about their past. It hurt me that Draco could speak so fondly of it, but I gave him the benefit of the doubt. I continued to listen as Pansy kept gushing over him and putting him up on a pedestal. She made some comment about me being so lucky for getting Draco and probably not realizing it. I was about to step in the room when Pansy asked him to indulge her one last time with a favor. Draco told her he would be more than delighted to help and that it would be fun. I’m not stupid, Gin. I knew exactly what she was talking about.”

Ginny looked puzzled as if she was thinking about something. “That can’t be right,” Ginny finally mused. “They couldn’t have been talking about having some passionate affair, Hermione.”

“You didn’t hear them,” Hermione argued, her voice becoming broken and uneven.

“No, I didn’t, but I do remember that a few months after you left, Pansy married Gregory Goyle. As nasty a bitch Pansy is, she wouldn’t have cheated on him. Draco wouldn’t have cheated on you either.”

“He had to have cheated on me. He left the next morning just after breakfast and didn’t return until almost midnight. He gave me some lame excuse about what he had done all day, but he couldn’t look me in the eye when he told me. I knew he was lying. More importantly, he came home smelling like that cheap perfume Pansy always wears.”

“Oh, Hermione,” Ginny said as she hugged the upset brunette witch she had really missed so much. “I’m so sorry.”

“So am I,” drawled a voice from the doorway. Draco stood there, arms folded across his chest looking angry once again. “I’m sorry you had such little faith in your husband.”

Hermione drew away from Ginny and strode to her husband. “I did have faith in you,” she hissed. “I had faith in you until you crawled in bed with me that night stinking like her perfume, trying to make love to me.”

Draco laughed bitterly. “For a know-it-all, you sure don’t know it all, Hermione. You think you know what happened, but the reality of the situation was you didn’t stick around long enough to find out the truth.”

“I didn’t stick around because I didn’t need it flaunted in my face that you were no longer happy with me and needed a mistress to keep you company.”

“A mistress?” Draco scoffed. “I could barely keep up with you in the bedroom; much less have a mistress at my beck and call.”

Hermione flushed when she heard Ginny clear her throat from behind her. She had forgotten Ginny was still in the room. Steering the conversation away from her antics in the bedroom Hermione addressed Draco. “Well if she wasn’t your mistress, I don’t hear you offering any excuses for your actions.”

“I shouldn’t have to,” Draco pointed out. “I’m your husband and I vowed to love only you until the day I died. I didn’t take those vows lightly, Hermione.”

“See? You’re still not offering an answer, you’re skirting around the issue. I don’t need to hear any more of your lies, Draco. I’m done with you. Done,” she reiterated as she pushed past him, tears running down her cheeks.

* * * * * * * * *

Hermione heard the annoying tapping of an owl at the window as she stepped from the shower. It was Saturday and instead of going into the office like she normally did, she had decided to just stay home and indulge herself in all the things she normally deprived herself of.

She had already watched Titanic, her favorite doomed loved story, read a book, eaten a pint of ice cream and had just now finished a forty minute shower where she let the hot water run down over her body, trying to wash away all the bad energy she had been carrying with her since leaving the Manor.

Reaching for a towel, Hermione wrapped it around herself and went to her kitchen window finding a tawny owl waiting carrying quite a big envelope. She quickly opened the window, took the envelope and paid the owl. Forgetting to close the window, curious as to who would send her something in such a large manila envelope, Hermione slid her finger under the flap, tearing it open carefully. She reached inside and was shocked when she pulled out the blue papers she had given to Draco the day before his mother’s funeral.

Her hand trembled as she thought about Draco saying he wouldn’t sign them when she had presented them to him. Obviously her outburst and her running away yet again had changed his mind.

She had obsessed over everything Draco had said in their last argument, picking apart his words and remembering his facial expressions to see if she may have misjudged him and accused him of things that hadn’t really happened. Draco had never lied to her and until that night, he hadn’t kept secrets from her. That was the thing that always tripped her up, the fact that he felt the need to keep something for her. They had shared everything together, their dreams for their future, stories about their lives as children and even the sexual fantasies and desires they had never intended to share with anyone else.

She second-guessed everything she had done back then and during her last stay at the Manor. She knew she shouldn’t have gone there with such a chip on her shoulder. She wished she had been more open to a discussion about their problems and she especially wished she hadn’t run away immediately following their last fight.

Now it seemed as if Draco had completely given up on their marriage as well, having sent back the divorce papers she had always been so sure until now that she had wanted him to sign. Deep down inside, it broke her heart knowing he had given up as well. As much as she had tried not to think of the love they had once had, she still thought of it everyday, even more now that she had recently been in his company.

Hermione unfolded the documents and turned to the last page, expecting to see Draco’s regal scrawl on the line next to her neat handwriting.

“Not on your bloody life?” Hermione exclaimed incredulously, reading the words written where Draco’s signature should have been.

“Quite original, if I do say so myself,” a smug Draco said, walking from her living room into the kitchen.

“Draco,” Hermione gasped. “How…how did you get in here?”

“I Apparated. The owl worked nicely as a diversion, didn’t it?”

Hermione clutched the towel wrapped around her even tighter, feeling terribly naked. “Why are you here?” she questioned, her voice betraying her as it wavered.

Draco stepped forward, closing the distance between them in two strides. Looking into her eyes, he revealed, “We were planning a surprise that night. Pansy knew she was in love with Greg, but she didn’t want to wait for him to ask her to get married. Pansy’s always been the unconventional type so she wanted to be the one to ask for his hand in marriage. She wanted to set the scene as she had seen it in her mind so it was completely perfect so he wouldn’t even have a chance to turn her down, or get angry that she had taken the initiative over him. You know how bloody horrible Pansy was at transfiguring things in school, so she asked for my help. We spent the day shopping for candles and such and then setting up the hotel suite she had booked for the weekend. I smelled like Pansy when I came home because I was shut up in that stuffy room with her all day, and you know how strong that horrid perfume is that she wears. I came home and wanted to make love with you because she had reminded me how wonderful it was to spend time with someone you truly loved. I never betrayed you, Hermione; it never even crossed my mind. I love you more than I love anything in this world. That has never changed.”

“Never?” Hermione questioned, finally realizing that Draco was indeed telling the truth.

“Never,” Draco swore.

“Then why didn’t you come after me?”

“Mother refused to tell me where you went or even why you went, just that I deserved for you to walk out which I didn’t understand at the time. It wasn’t until I caught her writing to you a few months later that I got her to tell me the reason you told her as to why you left. I was hurt and angry that you had thought so little of me and I let the anger overtake the part of me that was hurting. I told myself that I didn’t love you, that I never loved you and I had just been a fool. Having that anger inside of me let me live my life; it gave me a reason for going on. When Mother knew she was dying, she finally told me where to find you and she told me not to let my anger continue consuming me. She said I should go after you and be honest with you, to tell you what had really happened. I came to Boston about six months ago and followed you for a few days. You seemed to be enjoying the new life you had built for yourself so I assumed you had forgotten all about me. I chose not to let you know I had been here, and instead went back home to brood some more. Once Mother died, I knew she would have wanted you to be there to say goodbye, so I knew I had to try to get you back to the Manor, where I could hopefully remind you of the love we once had. Needless to say, it didn’t go very well, especially after you flashed those divorce papers in my face.”

“I’m so sorry, Draco. I truly am. I should have had faith in you, faith in us. I never stopped loving you,” she professed, “but I assumed you had stopped loving me.”

“Can we start over?” Draco asked uncertainly.

“We can’t start over. That would be impossible.” Seeing the crestfallen look on Draco’s face, Hermione continued quickly. “We can only move on from here and try to make our marriage stronger than it ever was, keeping in mind what happens when the lines of communication between a couple deteriorate.”

Draco looked at the woman he loved and smiled. Placing his hands on either side of her face, he leaned down and pressed his lips against hers, grateful for the new chance they were about to grab, knowing this time they could make it work.