A Tale of Him and Her

A Tale of Him and Her

Chapter Two: Of Walk-in Closets and Lookalikes

It didn't take long for Draco to find her in the tiny walk-in closet, hidden in her guest bedroom, curled up in a feeble position.

Draco had caught a glimpse of her when she looked up, no doubt stunned when he kneeled down beside her. Her cheeks were pale and tear-stained and her lips trembled. Gazing into her brown eyes which were slightly red, he grimaced when he saw sorrow and pain flash across. Her small hands were shaking and there was a crescent formed by teeth marks on her slightly tanned skin.

'Had she bitten herself?' he thought, allowing a wave of guilt to take him unexpectedly.

If he could, he would have turned time around and cancelled that marriage arranged by their ancestors back then. If he could, he would take away the spell that bound them together and never allowedfor a divorce. If he could, he would very much vanished from her life altogether and ensured that they never met. Perhaps then, they wouldn't have to suffer so much misery. If he could, he would have guarded his heart against her and madecertain that she wouldn't be able to walk into his life.

But then again, he knew he'd still fall all over for her.

"Go away," she whispered hoarsely, looking away from him.

Draco felt his heart break there and then as his beloved voiced out her rejection of him.

However, he stood still, watching her make vain attempts to muffle her cries.

That was when the sliding door shut abruptly and enveloped the entire place in darkness. Several minutes passed,but there were still no words spoken between them. Not that Draco had nothing to say, in fact he was struggling to find courage to voice the countless thoughts rapidly flashing across his mind.

All of a sudden, the entire walk-in closet began shaking violently, causing him to lose his footing and collapse next to Hermione who let out a cry of frustration as she felt her husband's weight landing on her feet.

As he tried to untangle his legs from his wife's, he felt like apologizing but couldn't due to the current situation they were in. Draco found himself in another one of the helpless situations he often found himself facing after the marriage.

It was like a roller-coaster ride as the closet dipped down and the couple felt themselves being lifted up before it finally came to an abrupt halt, causing Hermione to crash unwillingly into her husband's warm muscular arms. Enveloped protectively by Draco, she couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth and security and notice how she had fitted perfectly into him.

They had stayed in the same position for about a few minutes before alarms rang in her head warning her about the close proximity they shared.

Hastily, she got up to her feet and slid open the closet door to find herself in familiar surroundings ut unfortunately not her apartment where they were supposed to be.

Then realization dawned upon her.

They were in the Head Girl's bedroom in Hogwarts!

Hermione's glance swept through the room. Decorated in red and gold, there was no doubt it was a Gryffindor's Head girl. There was a large canopy bed in the centre of the room and four large French windows with crimson curtains behind it. The room was nearly identical to the one Hermione had in her seventh year where she was, as everyone had predicted, the Head girl of year 2005, except that Hermione had a large bookcase filled with Muggle books next to her bed.

She heard footsteps behind her and abruptly spun on her heels, meeting her husband who had his platinum blonde hair disheveled and his white button-up shirt all crumpled up. She was amused by his unusual appearance as Draco constantly drilled in her the idea that Malfoys were always immaculate.

However, the moment was spoilt as soon as she met his guarded gaze, making her livid with anger.

Even though Hermione often pridedherself as one of the most forgiving people in Hogwarts, she felt it was only right to refuse him forgiveness. Thinking about his actions caused a prolonged dull pain to ache inside of her and she turned away.

'We are back at Hogwarts, but when?' she thought, strolling leisurely around the room, running her fingers down the familiar walls. Hermione was positive that the last Head girl was none other than herself but this was not her room.

"Hermione," a baritone voice whispered.

"What?" she snapped, not surprised at all that she sounded rather bitter and exhausted.

Before he could reply, the door burst open, revealing a flustered student dressed in a long sleeved white collared blouse tucked neatly into her plaited skirt, bearing the Gryffindor colours. All unpleasant thoughts vanished promptly as Hermione caught sight of the girl.

"Excuse me," she said very politely, once noticing the two strangers, "I believe this is the Head Girl's bedroom and I don't think you should be here."

Hermione couldn't believe how uncannily similar they looked.

The Head Girl had identical dark brown hazel-shaped eyes radiating the same intelligence and warmth as well as the same full, red, luscious lips as Hermione. Standing at about five-foot-eight inches tall, they were nearly the same height. However, she had long straight brown hair whereas Hermione's hair was curly and unmanageable.

'She's the prettier and younger version of me,' Hermione thought as she watched her lookalike's eyes widen with amazement as she scrutinized the figure in front of her.

"Wh-who are you?" the girl asked after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence.

"We are lost," came a monotonous drawl from behind her and instanteously she felt indignant as she watched her annoying husband taking determined strides to the bewildered Head Girl.

"I though so, but how in Merlin's beard did you two end up in my bedroom?" she questioned, throwing Hermione a wary glance.

"I don't know. We are new transferred students from Beauxbatons Academy and we saw the open portrait so we came in here," Draco replied smoothly, staring icily at the girl. Hermione snorted quietly in disgust at the exchange. It wasn't astounding that her husband was capable at lying without stuttering, after all, this was an ex-Slytherin, the leader of the Slytherins in fact, they were talking about.

The Head Girl arched an eyebrow at him and a grin tugged Hermione's lips abruptly. 'Thank goodness she wasn't so easily deceived by such an awful tale,' she thought.

"Could you take us to Professor's Dumbledore's office please? We need to see him urgently," Hermione said finally.

"No, actually you can leave us for a moment, we need to settle something between us," Draco said, his silvery-blue orbs holding a guarded expression as he glanced briefly at Hermione.

"That's not necessary, Malfoy," she hissed contemptuously, "There's nothing to talk about."

She could feel Draco's penetrating gaze burning into her skin but she didn't expect his next move. In a flash, he pointed his wand at the Head Girl and whispered, "Petrificus Totalus."

Without a second wasted, Hermione frantically made her way to the Head Girl who had collapsed on the floor.

"We have to talk, Hermione."

Hermione restrained herself from shivering, feeling his warm breath on her bare neck.

The only descendant of the Malfoy family had kneeled beside her, slipping his arms around her waist. Overwhelmed with uncalled for fatigue, she felt her body relent slowly into her husband's arms. She closed her eyes and relished in the comfort of the embrace.

The scene of Draco shagging Lavender Brown in the phone booth flashed across her mind.

Her eyelids fluttered open but her vision was clouded by tears.

He must have felt her stiffen because his arms immediately tightened, though not painfully firmly around her waist. "Hermione," he murmured; his voice revealing an unmistakable tint of desperation, "I'm sorry."

With that, he spun her around to face him and placed his lips lightly against her trembling forehead.

The brunette looked at him, dumbfounded as his thumb slowly wiped away her tears.

"Forgive me."

Hermione swore that she'd never forget the sight of her husband's eyes shimmering with sincerity as he waited for her reaction.

Without a reply, she pressed her lips against his persistently, taking him by shock though he soon responded eagerly. An abrupt surge of an unidentified emotion exploded within Hermione as their lips met and she felt herself regain strength to lift her arms to encircle his neck.

She felt him press against her, leaving no space between them.

She felt his tongue running lightly across her lips, seeking for permission to enter.

She felt his heartbeat race, almost faster than her own.

She felt at peace.

"I hate you," he whispered when they pulled away, "so much."