Rating:
PG-13
House:
Astronomy Tower
Ships:
Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger
Characters:
Draco Malfoy Hermione Granger
Genres:
Romance
Era:
Other Era
Spoilers:
Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban Goblet of Fire Order of the Phoenix Half-Blood Prince
Stats:
Published: 02/25/2006
Updated: 02/25/2006
Words: 3,266
Chapters: 1
Hits: 1,080

The Last Thing

CowardlyLion29

Story Summary:
Hermione and Draco surprisingly find themselves drawn to one another in the post-war trauma. Sometimes the first thing you want in life is the last thing you need.

Chapter 01

Posted:
02/25/2006
Hits:
1,080


~The Last Thing~

She was taken by surprise. Writing, writing, writing, and completely oblivious he snuck up on her in that miserable manner that she hated to love. Her hand was cramping up, and she had looked for an excuse to stop writing, and found it finally when he clasped his hands around her eyes.

"Still writing that essay?" he asked. She could sense a sort of pleading in his voice. She smiled inwardly, but voiced her disapproval.

"Yes, and I'm not nearly finished, so you might as well go back where you came from."

"Aw," he said, "That's a pity..." She took his bait.

"What is it, Draco? I have to finish this for work tomorrow, so you'd better get it out quickly."

"I thought we might go for a walk," he said, looking at her with those eyes that begged without meaning to.

"I can't, Draco."

"Please, Granger? Just this once...?"

"It's never 'just this once.'"

"Be a sport, Hermione." He had used her name. Her quill stopped mid-sentence.

"Fine, later then." She had not looked at him, but she could tell that he was smiling as he walked away. Hermione heaved a shaky sigh and went back to writing, writing, writing.

They had stopped to look up at the sky, unconsciously. Both of them stood still next to one another. They had to meet at night because otherwise people might start to think... Hermione breathed in deeply.

"I had a dream the other night where I dreamt I could fly. It was wonderful. But then, I haven't had much experience on a broomstick." She said this more to the moon than to Draco. He had his hands in his pockets and was watching his breath take shape as it left his mouth. It was such a relief to say what she was thinking; to talk about her most private thoughts with someone who didn't even care. She had been sneaking out with Draco for a few months now. It all started when he "borrowed" her notes, and found a piece of parchment on which she had written out, eloquently, her deepest thoughts.

He had handed back her notes one afternoon, with a meaningful look. As she rifled through them the next day, she found the parchment she had written on in a moment of abstraction. He had written something underneath, answering her. From then on they would both ask and answer one another. She supposed she didn't really have to call it "sneaking out" anymore, as she had her own flat, but Harry and Ron were still a large part of her life, and she knew they wouldn't be pleased if they found out what she was doing with their former nemesis. Hermione was brooding on this when she felt something.

He had touched her hair, unsuspectingly. She started backwards at this approach from him.

"What are you doing?" she asked sharply. She wasn't going to compromise her self for someone who wasn't going to care.

"Playing with your curls," he smiled gently at her.

He walked her to her door, unbelievably. He pocketed her hand in his two, and smiled at something in his mind. She wanted badly to ask what he was smiling at, but instead she just leaned in and kissed him.

"Granger, I can't do this."

"It doesn't mean anything," she whispered softly close to his ear. He was leaning over her, awkwardly, one hand supporting his weight as he moved in to kiss her. Her chin was turned up towards him and her eyes were shining brightly. He wanted to give in to his impulse, but his attitude changed noticeably.

"It has to mean something. I can't do this. Not with you."

"I'm telling you - I don't want to do this, I have to." She kissed his ear, and then his cheek, and then his mouth. "Since when did you pass up an opportunity to snog someone?" she was smiling alluringly.

He pushed her away.

"I don't want a relationship, Hermione." He stood up and walked to the window as he said it, his silvery blond hair picking up grays in the darkness. She scoffed at his words.

"That's the last thing I need... You're the last thing I need, Draco. But still, I need you right now, and I need it to be meaningless." He looked around at her now; she was still leaning strangely on her arm on the couch. Her voice had a strange tone of desperation, almost of pleading. He had never heard her like that. She had always been so self-possessed and sure of herself. Now she was demanding something from him, and he shivered at the prospect of having some sort of power over her.

He walked over to her, kissed her hard.

"I'm not a prince. I'm not what you want, yet you want me. I'm not a gentleman, and I'm not a prince."

She looked at him, wishing he would be those things, yet wanting him anyway.

"I know," she lied. "This is the last thing I need. So come here."

Pain is beautiful, they both agreed. That's why they both took special pleasure in walking away from that night. They sailed away into the morning without remorse, but sensed that remorse would have been helpful in clearing up the confusion. Happiness is nothing, they both concurred. It is only pain that moves us into something more. Death was something, they knew. They had watched their friends being packed away into the earth and knew that was something. What it was they didn't know, but they both agreed that it wouldn't matter until the point was arrived at. The kiss was something, though they agreed it was nothing. Agreeing helped move them forwards towards disagreeing. Disagreeing meant more than agreeing. They wanted to disagree, but they wanted that so badly that a similarity of opinion was inevitable. Wasting time was something neither of them felt comfortable with. It was only a matter of time before they would agree to disagree and something would happen.

"Something's happened," she told him. "Something had to happen... now of all times." She was pacing the wide room to and fro. He was spread out carelessly on a couch, looking perfection and emanating it. He twirled his wand in his fingers.

"What do you mean, Granger?" It was apparent he didn't know or care what she was talking about. She sat down, realizing she got what she wanted.

"Well, I wanted nothing and I got something... at least that's what happened for me that night."

"You mean when I walked you home?" It was as though she had imagined everything from when they reached her door onwards. It might not have even happened. He was talking to her like that sort of thing happened every day.

"I mean when you came in after you walked me home." She waited for his agreement that it had all actually happened. She was halfway uncertain about the entire situation herself.

"Yes... that. Well I thought you wanted it to mean nothing, so here I am, behaving like it was nothing. Isn't this what we would be doing if I'd never gone into your apartment?"

"Draco, you have to have felt... something," she said desperately.

"That's not what you wanted. That's not what I wanted." He separated the pronouns. She looked in his face for the "we" he might have used, and found "you" and "I" (mostly "I").

"Fine then, I'll be going."

"No, I want you to stay," he said, moving slightly to face her from the couch, "I just want you to stop being such a hypocrite."

"If I said I wanted it to mean something the whole while, would you stop calling me a hypocrite?"

"I would believe you more, but I wouldn't stop calling you that, because you most certainly are a hypocrite. You act like you don't need anything from anyone, but now I know better."

"And this is what I wanted!" she shouted to the domed ceiling. She forgot where they were. Draco was lounging on a sofa in the Memorial. Hermione glanced quickly at the fountain and the names on the walls as penance. "Amelia Bones" jumped out at her, and then she looked down the line for "Albus Dumbledore." The fountain, all incredibly, was a golden depiction of Harry and Dumbledore, serving as a reminder to the wizarding world of who had defeated the Dark Lord. As though anyone needed reminding... Harry was standing in front, his arms crossed defiantly, while Dumbledore stood behind him with one hand on Harry's shoulder. Hermione shook her head as she looked at it. Harry hated the fountain, being modest as usual.

"Can you believe it?" he asked, standing next to her now, stroking her arm.

"Believe what?" she didn't know to what he was referring, everything seemed incredulous.

"That all these people are dead and gone, and here we are."

"We're gone as well. We left when they did. Death means something, yet the kiss obviously meant nothing, and agreeing means nothing. Where are we going if we haven't gone somewhere already? Where are we going if we aren't 'gone'?"

"I don't think we're gone. What we were so sure of is gone. Everything my father condoned and supported and all the people fighting against us and with us: they are gone. We're just here to deal with what's left." Hermione shook her head more, not looking at him, but staring at Harry's frozen look of stern defiance. She had often seen him with that look.

"I think that those things will never really be gone. There will always be some sort of reminder, just like this place to tell us that the memories live on." She gathered strength in her convictions while she spoke the words.

"There now, we've disagreed; that must mean something." He kissed the inside of her neck.

He could have been cruel if he wanted to be. That was what excited her the most. He was good to her, but he could have been cruel. She knew there must have been something wrong with that. His coldness had been all too evident over the preceding years towards her especially. Moving on was called for, she thought. She threw her coat over the back of the couch, and he put his hands in his pockets and stared at the room.

"I'm here again, it seems," he said to the carpet. She smiled at his back.

He meandered over to a side table, where there were several pictures of Hermione with Harry and Ron and Ginny. Draco picked one up to look at it.

"Any regrets?" she asked from the kitchen. He seemed lost for a moment and finally returned when she made a movement at his shoulder.

"About what?" he asked her. His eyes were looking colder than usual as he stared into her face. She recalled suddenly what he had been a part of. She took a step back, repulsed by the thought.

A few moments passed before he said something again.

"This is what you wanted, isn't it? Me?" She had to think about it. What did she want?

"Was it? I can't remember if we agreed about that or not. I mean, what are you? Which one is it? The good or the bad?"

"Good where you're concerned. Otherwise, who can tell?" he looked at the pictures again.

"I wish I could..."

"Do you want me to choose between the two? Because I can't, Granger. Life doesn't work that way. If you want someone who'll do what you tell them, why don't you go back to Weasel or Potter? Because you don't like being the boss all the time, do you? You like being dominated. I can dominate you easily. You're intimidated, because you want to make a good impression, but you also hate what I'm a part of. I know you're tired of being the bossy one, and I'd take care of that for you. But I can't choose - so don't make me. I can't choose where you're concerned along with my personal well-being."

Tears were forming in her eyes, because it was the last thing she wanted to hear. It was the truth. Romance wasn't her strong suit, and she didn't want to have to be called on to be the leader in her own relationship all the time. Strength and cruelty was what she really wanted, because she was sick of being that way herself.

She pursed her lips together in bitter emotion. His tenderness she had witnessed, but it was always coupled with harshness and pain. She wanted to tame that hard exterior, turn it to good. Looking at him in all his distant, cold glory, she frowned at him.

"You'd better go then," she told him at last. "I'd just want to change you. I know what you could be if you wanted to..."

"No, Granger, I couldn't be that way. I thought that's what you liked... You liked the fact that I could never be like Weasley or anyone else you're accustomed to associate with," he approached her slowly, seductively. She relaxed perceptibly; it was like she was under his spell, and when she thought about it, that was perfectly possible. She clenched her fists together and stiffened again to her full height. Hermione backed into the wall as he came ever closer.

"Leave," she said half-unwillingly. He stared at her for a minute, then grabbed her hand, and kissed the back of it, and then twisted it, painfully. She sighed, and turned her head away. In a minute, he was gone.

It would be many months before they saw one another again. Things had changed entirely for them both. Hermione had gone through several meaningless relationships including Dean Thomas, Cormac McLaggen, even Blaise Zabini. Each of them, she knew, was doomed from the start. She saw Ron several times a week, trying to bring herself to fall in love with him again, but she had tired quickly of the manner in which she had to drag him through the relationship. She had heard from Blaise that Draco had traveled to Europe for a year or so. She found herself thinking of him distractedly in empty moments, after Blaise had said something that reminded her of Draco's phraseology.

One evening, Blaise had taken her to dinner at an expensive restaurant Hermione remembered Draco had called one of his favorites. Hermione had been noticing that Blaise kept mentioning Ginny in their conversations and was all too eager to visit the Potter household. Hermione shook her head in frustration when she realized what she was dating, just to get over another bastard.

"What will you have this evening?" the waiter asked them. Blaise looked up at him, while still managing to look down his nose in his very best condescending attitude.

"The usual, Henri. What are you having, Hermione?" he looked at her as if mildly bemused to find that he was seated across from her, of all people. He couldn't deny that she was beautiful. Hermione hadn't even glanced at the menu. She had looked up from her wine to see Draco walk in, alone. She couldn't hold her seat a moment longer. She had to move, or else he would see them.

"Excuse me, I don't feel well." She moved towards the ladies' room. Her gown was rustling far too loudly for her comfort. She cursed the brown taffeta as she snuck into the bathroom without being noticed. She sat in there for at least fifteen minutes. She knew that Draco would have gone to talk to Zabini, and she had hoped to have left enough time for them to exchange a few words and move on. Cautiously she emerged from the bathroom, and looked around for Blaise. He was seated alone, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Suddenly, someone grabbed her wrist and pulled her around. She held the scream in her throat, but gasped in a strangled way when she saw that it was Malfoy who was holding her tightly.

"What are you doing?" she whispered tensely.

"I might ask you the same thing. I saw you sneak into the bathroom fifteen minutes ago. That's an awfully long time to be in there, aren't you well?" he smiled. "It's been quite awhile since I've seen you. You look charming. Is Blaise keeping you well?" he glanced smugly at the diamond bracelet on her wrist.

"How dare you," Hermione whispered quietly, trying to wrench her arm from his grasp.

"Now, now... I'm just here for a friendly visit. Let's go see him, shall we?" he dragged her along, twisting her arm like he did the day he left.

"Zabini, how are you? I seem to have found something of yours," he twirled Hermione around so Blaise could see her. "I figured you liked that blood-traitor Weasley girl, not this Mudblood... But I suppose, seeing as the other one is married to Potter, you hadn't much choice. It's a pity that a Slytherin like you has to nail Weasley's leftovers, though." Hermione squirmed in his grip. "Calm down, Granger, or Blaise will think you don't care about him."

"I hate you," she said, nearly spitting in his face. She broke free from his grasp and ran outside.

She didn't think to look back, until she had gotten to her flat and locked the door. All the while she was walking and running, she tried not to think about what he had said, but it was all ringing in her ears. Those snide remarks he had made about her being kept by Blaise Zabini! It was outrageous! Her anger made her breath shorten more than the exercise did. She was still catching her breath in the safety of her own little foyer when she heard a loud POP from somewhere inside her flat.

"We didn't quite finish back in the restaurant, Granger," Draco said from the living room. She kicked off her shoes and marched into the room in a raging fury. She found Draco leaning against the fireplace mantle, checking his fingernails in an aggravating manner.

"I can't believe you would say such things about me! How dare you! You're nothing but a filthy... stuck-up... pureblood Death Eater, with nothing better to do than come up with half-assed insults, now that your disgusting master is dead! You're nothing, Draco. You're scum. I hate you more than anyone I've ever known!" she screamed at him, her hair falling out of place, and stomping her foot.

There was a ringing silence in the room after she had finished. After a few minutes, Draco began to smile to himself.

"Good. I'm glad you feel that way," he smirked. It took her a few minutes to be able to respond.

"Why do you say that?" she said, more confused than ever.

"Now that you hate me more than anyone, it follows that you can never love anyone more than me." He waited a moment for this to sink in, watching her expression. Then he walked to her in two long strides, and kissed her without encountering any resistance. His tongue caressed hers, and his lips were soft, yet firm as they pressed into hers. She felt herself shiver. His arm had snaked around her waist, and hers was entwined in his silver blond hair when he separated from her.

"Am I still the last thing you need, Granger?"

"...The last thing I'll ever need," Hermione whispered, pulling him down towards her passionately.