Chapter Text
Chapter One
Childhood.
It swirls by, a magical combination of butterfly chasing, dirt-covered knees, and Hot Lava Monster on the playground. Boys are cute and girls have cooties, and no, Mom, I don’t want to eat my vegetables. Grandma sends gifts, but you never send her thank you notes, and she passes away before you get to know the meaning of death.
You play outside for hours in the summer with your best friends, and you pray to Jesus every night in the hopes that he’ll bring you a little brother. You crawl around on the floor and insist that you’re a puppy dog, and you fight over the remote with your sister on Saturday morning. Hopscotch at recess, your crush tells you he likes someone else, and you beg your mommy for a new doll for Christmas.
Everything seems so simple when you’re a child, doesn’t it?
Hermione Granger chased butterflies and prayed to Jesus every night, and He brought her a daddy. A mommy, too, and a brother. He brought her a family that adopted her and loved her and made her feel wanted. Even if her real parents didn’t want her, at least this family did, so why would she have anything to worry about? She played hopscotch and wiped the dirt off her knees. She argued with her older brother over the rights to the remote and pretended to be a puppy and always forgot to send thank you notes. Years went by, and she was happy.
Until something terrible happened, shattering the semblance of bliss that Hermione had become so accustomed to, leaving her lost and fending for herself in the midst of the darkness.
Hermione stared up at the ceiling of her bedroom, counting down the seconds until her alarm went off. Every day, she woke up hours before she was meant to, and she prayed for God to make the day pain-free. Because every day, she was reminded of the achingly empty hole in her heart that would never be filled. The loss was absolute and sometimes she just wanted to give up. So she counted each and every second, promising herself that as soon as that alarm blared in her ears, she would put on a smile and face the day for the things that she had lost, the pain she had suffered, and the betrayal she had endured. Even if she had nobody there to witness her strength, it was worth it for the sake of her heart.
Beep! Beep! Beep!
It was time. The day had come. High school had been a blur of torment and loneliness, as had the first year of online community college, and now the day for her sophomore year of college to begin had come. She would be going on campus this year—no online classes.
From what she saw on social media, last year, there were a lot of people she went to high school with that had stayed behind to do their prerequisites at the community college. Many of them used to be her friends. How were they going to react when they saw her? Were they going to shun her like they had the entirety of their senior year? Could she handle seeing the faces of those that she had once called friends, who had so viciously spurned her and taken the side of the monster who hurt her?
Hermione closed her eyes, feeling as though she were stuck to her mattress.
Could she really go through with this?
Beep! Beep! Beep!
The alarm seemed to get louder and louder, until she could no longer hear herself think, and she slammed her hand down on top of the clock to silence it. Sighing in exasperation, she sat up and yanked her satin bonnet off, her kinky curls and coils tumbling down around her shoulders, long and chestnut-brown. She had never before dreaded the first day of school as much as she dreaded this day.
Her fluffy white Maltese peered up at her in curiosity from her dog bed, her beady black eyes silently encouraging her to be strong.
“Should I just stay home, Memory?” she asked the puppy with a heavy sigh. “Because I’m starting to think I should just stay home.”
A tiny thing that weighed no more than five pounds, Memory whined and rose up on her paws. She licked her nose and started to wag her tail. Memory had been with her for years, and whenever Hermione looked at her, she was distinctly reminded of the one who had gifted the little canine to her. His grey eyes and his dazzling white smile haunted her dreams, that messy platinum blond hair never failing to send chills down her spine.
But he was no longer in her life. He hated her now. He believed her to be a whore, an attention-seeker, a liar. He had once been her best friend, and they had many memories together. Summer sunsets on the beach, eating mint chocolate ice cream. Video game marathons and supervised sleepovers. Mall trips and movie trips and the times he tried to teach her how to skateboard. He used to walk her home from school every day, from the start of third grade when they met to the last day before everything fell apart, right at the start of senior year. They had been thick as thieves. A perfect match. But he left her, just like everyone else did and now…she was alone.
Hermione sucked in her breath and focused hard on the way her heart was beating. She always got over-emotional when she thought of her former best friend, and she knew that if she saw him at school, it was going to be difficult. She knew she was being way too kind, still caring for him after everything he had done. He had hurt her, betrayed her.
He hadn’t been there for her like he’d promised.
Memory yipped and leapt up onto her lap, nuzzling her nose into the palm of her hand. Hermione obliged her, scratching her gently around the ears, the rich russet-brown of her skin contrasting with the stark white of Memory’s fur.
“You’re right, Memory,” she whispered, her curls falling forward as she hugged the dog tightly. “I am strong enough.”
She let go, and the puppy hopped onto the mattress, curling up to sleep. Hermione rose to her feet, steeling herself for the day’s events. Hogsmeade was not a small town, and she’d been gone from the public sight for what, eight or nine months? There was always the slight chance that nobody remembered her. Maybe she was scared for nothing.
Hermione went to her closet and sifted through the new clothing that her mother had bought for her to bring to her equally-new apartment. She smiled at the thought that this was her apartment, and she was only twenty. She hadn’t wanted to move out, but when your enraged adoptive father insists that you’re no longer his daughter and orders you out of his house, what else can you do? She could still remember the look of hatred and pain in his eyes at her accusations; could still feel the hurt as freshly as if he had wounded her just moments ago.
They hadn’t spoken since November, right after a rather explosive Thanksgiving where Hermione once again tried to tell her father what her brother, Cormac had done to her. Would Hermione ever see her dad again? Would he ever look at her through the eyes of a father?
Would he ever come to love her once more?
Hermione shook the depressing thoughts from her head and picked out a periwinkle minidress to wear. It was a simple design, A-line skirt, cinched waist, and a Peter Pan collar. She dressed and after grabbing her purse, textbooks, and tablet, she headed out of her bedroom. Her apartment was nothing special. It was small and cozy, fully furnished with things that her mother had selected for her in blues and whites, and had one bedroom.
In the kitchen, Hermione picked up her car keys and her phone, sliding her finger across the touchscreen. She was only mutedly dismayed when she saw that there were no calls and texts, because she never got any calls or texts. The only ones she had ever gotten were mean and nasty, and even those had stopped trickling in. Her own mother barely even called her, though she did drop in from time-to-time to check on her. No, Hermione was by her lonesome, for the most part, save for the comforting company of Memory.
Kneeling down by the front door, Hermione kissed Memory on top of the head, laughing in spite of her anxiousness at going to school in person. The dog yipped happily and pushed her small muzzle against Hermione’s hand, and Hermione simply enjoyed herself for a moment. She was content in the knowledge that Memory would always love her no matter what she said or did, and nobody could take that away from her.
“Goodbye, puppy,” she said in a babyish tone of voice, wrinkling her nose fondly when the dog looked up at her expectantly. She pointed to the food bowl, which was still full from last night, as Memory had forgone eating for the chance to crawl into bed with her. It was early September, but it was cold this time of year either way, so Memory loved to slip beneath the covers and burrow up against her feet.
Hogsmeade was located in a strange part of the world, which had erratic weather changes all year round, such as rain in the summer and random hot days in the dead of January. So more often than not, Hermione’s companion and only friend cuddled with her at night.
“You have plenty of food.”
Memory huffed like a snooty cat and trotted away.
It was time to leave.
Three Years Ago
The last time Hermione had set foot in a school, it had been the Monday after Halloween of her Senior Year. The cruel remarks and jibes had already begun to overwhelm her, and she had worn herself thin trying desperately to get her friends back. She was devastated that nobody had believed her when she’d told them what had happened to her, but she wanted her friends to stay in her life more than anything. It was no use, though, because who would believe her story? It was disgusting and insane, and it just had to be a lie.
And as she had walked through those doors, the whispers spreading like wildfire, all aimed toward tearing her down, it seemed that everyone else agreed.
“I can’t believe she’s still coming here,” someone said in a stage whisper, looking Hermione up and down. “Literally no one wants her here.”
Hermione hugged her books tighter to her chest, her heart aching with sorrow. Why hadn’t her friends stood by her side? Why hadn’t her best friend comforted her? Why was he standing by his locker, glaring at her as though her mere presence made him ill?
That’s what hurt the most—seeing all of the tenderness he’d once had for her void from his intense grey gaze, only to have it be replaced by white-hot fury. He’d never trust her again, and he didn’t want to be her friend anymore. He’d told her so to her face the day she’d ran to him, begging him to help her.
Because he didn’t believe her.
No one did.
“Hey, slut!” a random male voice called out snidely from the crowded hall. Someone jostled her. “Think I could take a ride if I pay you enough?”
“You’re disgusting, saying that about your own brother,” another voice remarked viciously. “People like you need to get help.”
Hermione halted in her tracks. She was mere feet away from her former best friend’s locker, and tears as fat as pebbles were cascading down her brown cheeks. She kept her eyes lowered, feeling his hard gaze upon her. He was so much taller than her, now that they were almost eighteen, and knowing that he hated her made her feel frightened of him. She had been keeping her secrets for so long and when they had come bubbling forth, she had expected to get help, not be shunned. Men had hurt her and taken away her innocence, and it was men who had claimed her to be a liar.
“You cut your hair,” he said harshly, and she flinched at the coldness of his tone. His pale white skin seemed paler than usual.
She kept her eyes downcast. Of course she had. He had always told her he liked her natural hair short, since it reminded him of when they were children, building castles in the sand. She had worn it in twists in recent months, and after everything had fallen apart, she had thought that maybe, just maybe, he’d stop hating her if she looked the way he wanted her to. He may not have believed her tale, but at least he might look at her with something more than vehemence.
“Y-Yes,” she stammered, feeling eyes against her in all directions. She felt so exposed, and she knew that everyone was watching their exchange with interest. She was under a lot of pressure, and so was he.
“Why are you here?” he asked, his words cutting into her heart painfully deep. “Why don’t you just drop out already?”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, choking on her words. “Please…can’t we go talk somewhere?”
“No,” he said flatly, and he slammed his locker door shut so hard that it jarred her bones. “You make me fucking sick. I can’t believe that you would say that shit about your own brother. About my best friend. You’re fucking disgusting, Hermione.”
His curse words lashed against her, reminding her of how much they had changed in the past few years since starting high school. She remembered a time when he had hated her brother, stating that he didn’t like the way he “looked” at her. She remembered feeling sad because he didn’t know the truth behind those looks, and now she was even sadder because he knew now, but he didn’t believe her words. So she started to cry, dropping her binder to the floor, ignoring the papers that fluttered all over the hall. Hermione heard the students around her start to laugh derisively, and she felt so suffocated that it was almost unbearable.
“I trusted you!” she sobbed to her former best friend, gazing directly up into his face.
He narrowed his eyes at her and clenched his fists at his sides. His unruly white-blond hair flopped into his face, shrouding his eyes so that when he glared down at the weeping girl, he appeared scary, with a dark countenance.
“And I trusted you,” he snarled. “But you lied to me. You fucking lied to everyone because you couldn’t stand not being at the center of everybody’s attention. Well, guess what, Granger? Now you are. And nobody’s applauding. So get the fuck out of my sight before I throw up.”
Hermione turned on her heel and fled, the choruses of cheers and laughter floating into her ears like a cacophony of torture, telling her that from now on, she had nobody to protect her.
Present Day
The pleasant dinging of the elevator bell overhead snapped Hermione out of her reverie and, with a miserable sigh, she stepped out onto the marble floor of the lobby. Her apartment complex was way out in the hills, far away from where her school and the majority of the city housing was located, so she knew she had a long drive ahead of her. She hoped she could stay strong and not lose her confidence. Her brother was at university, so perhaps everyone had already forgotten who she was and what she had done?
Hermione absentmindedly touched her long kinks and coils. Hopefully, it would keep her former best friend from noticing her. After he had so awfully and publicly shunned her and cut her from his life, she had favored longer hairstyles just to spite him. Not that he would care. She hadn’t seen him or heard from him since that fateful day.
She gulped, wondering what it would be like if she saw him today.
In the car, Hermione hooked her phone up to the stereo and chose a song from her favorite metalcore band to play. Her cheeks went hot, as they always did when she played this particular band, because she felt as though the band members would know.
The band she called her favorite just-so-happened to be local. And the guitarist of said band?
Her former best friend with the stormy grey eyes and bedheaded white-blond hair.
They were extremely talented and, while not signed to any labels or anything, they often played at Hogsmeade’s premier venue for such things downtown. Hermione had never attended any of their shows, of course, since she rarely left the hills, and because she had a feeling she’d be recognized. She felt embarrassed, knowing that if he knew she listened to his band religiously, he would be repulsed.
As the sounds of her favorite song by them came flooding through the speakers, his angelic vocal talents made her shiver. Every time she heard him sing, she was reminded of how much she missed him. She missed everything about her old life, especially the carefree happiness of knowing that her best friend was always going to care for her more than anyone else. But it had come at a price, because she had been hiding something so awful and devastating to her spirit that it had nearly torn her apart. And when she’d woken up one morning to vomit bile into the toilet, she’d known that it was time to come clean.
The proof was there, so why had nobody believed her but her mother?
She drove down the freeway with her hands at ten and two, tears brimming in her eyes as she listened to him singing. He had always dreamed of playing music and being in a band, ever since his father had given him his first guitar for Christmas. His voice was positively Godly, but he hadn’t ever found the right people to play in a band with him. People that complimented his talents in just the perfect manner.
Well, he seemed to have found them some time after she’d dropped out, because their demo songs hit social media with an explosion of good reception. Within weeks, they had become the most popular band locally, calling themselves Embrace, and mixing his hauntingly beautiful clean vocals with his twin brother’s skillful, growling screams to create music that you could not only lose yourself to, but that spoke volumes to people who just wanted to get the Hell away from the lives they were living in.
Hermione couldn’t help but feel proud. He had always promised her that he would make a difference someday. That he would show other kids their age that there was always a way out. That music was the escape they so craved.
There was just one downfall.
Hermione’s brother, Cormac—the one who terrified her the most—was sometimes the second guitarist in Embrace.
There were times when he came home from university on the weekends to visit their parents and when he would, he would sometimes guest perform with them. Even if she wanted to go to one of their shows, what if it was one of the ones where her brother was there? She wouldn’t be able to handle seeing his face again, remembering what it was like to hide such horrid secrets from the people around her.
When she got to the Hogwarts campus, Hermione sat in the car for fifteen minutes, listening to music and watching as hundreds of students poured across the parking lot and started making their way up the front steps. She recognized more than a few of them, and knew that today wasn’t going to go very well if they recognized her right back. God, she hoped they left her alone. Please, just let them leave her alone.
Just when she thought she might faint, she saw him. Her heart ceased its incessant pounding and her eyes zoned in on his confident gait and trademark smirk.
Draco Malfoy was extremely handsome and alluring in the way his boyish, mischievous features blended to create his youthful appearance. His grey eyes were as striking as ever, and could melt you into a radioactive puddle when he looked at you. His hair was messy and straight, looking as though he had just crawled out of bed, and his normally pale skin was slightly tanned from the summer. He was as tall as she remembered him being, towering over the majority and keeping stride with the long-legged minority.
Hermione leaned closer to her windshield, her eyes studying the way he had filled out a bit more, his lithe, toned muscles practically straining against his tight black V-neck. He was wearing a pair of dark blue skinny jeans that had rips in the knees and all-black Vans, and when he turned to wave at someone, Hermione could swear he was looking directly at her.
Panicking, she ducked down in her seat, hoping against all hope that he hadn’t seen her gawking. She felt hot at the thought. What would he think if he knew how she still obsessed over him, after all these years? He’d probably be freaked out, that was for sure, and more than anything, revolted.
Yes, there was once a time when he would have been ecstatic to hear that she found him attractive. She distinctly recalled how he had tried clumsily to steal her first kiss in the seventh grade, but he tripped and sent them both tumbling into a mud puddle. But now, she had a feeling that Draco would be appalled to see her, let alone find out she liked him.
It was pretty creepy that she hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him in almost three years and had feelings for him that hadn’t waned…
Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and struggled to regain control of her breathing. Memory would be disappointed if she could see Hermione’s position now: hiding in her car like a criminal. She scooted back up into her seat and fixed her curls in the mirror, sighing heavily.
Well, she thought in resignation, here we go.
With that, she opened the door and stepped outside, her mind and heart prepared for what she expected to be one of the worst days of her young life.
Hermione stood in front of the bathroom mirror, wringing water and ketchup out of the ends of her curls. Someone had decided that she would look good with their lunch on her hair and face, so she just wanted to sit in a stall and cry for the rest of the day. The stench of the food that had been dumped on top of her head was overwhelming.
She could still hear the laughter filling the cafeteria; could still see the people that recognized her snickering as she struggled back to her feet after being shoved and covered in food. The people that didn’t recognize her had merely stared in open-mouthed shock, none of them lifting a finger to help her in the face of such immaturity.
Today had begun with bad luck. As soon as she’d walked in the doors, headed for her first class, Hermione had passed by a group of her old girlfriends. They’d stopped and gaped at her, obviously astonished that she was showing her face after all of this time, but Hermione hadn’t thrown them a second glance.
Back when she needed them most, they hadn’t thrown her a second glance, either.
After receiving her schedule and finding out where her Critical Thinking class was, she hurried to the correct hall to find it. At the time, her name was still just being passed along quietly, and she’d managed to keep to herself without anyone bothering her. She found her class and stepped inside, her brown eyes scanning her classmates. It was already full, and many of them were huddled together, chatting amiably and getting to know one another if they hadn’t already.
Nevertheless, they had all gone deadly silent as soon as Hermione walked into the classroom, several of the familiar ones staring at her as if she were a ghost come back from the dead.
“What is she doing here?” someone had finally hissed. Some girl Hermione remembered graduating with, her voice shattering the silence.
Hermione had then fought the urge to roll her eyes. She was getting pretty sick of hearing that phrase. She’d gone to find an empty seat at the back of the classroom. There was only one other girl back there with her, and as soon as Hermione plopped her stuff down on the floor, the girl was eyeing her with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension.
At first, the staring hadn’t bothered her, and she had turned her attention to reading over her class schedule for the term. Around her, the groups of friends had started to huddle together even closer, and she heard her name and supposed “lies” being spoken repeatedly all over as people informed those that didn’t know who she was the “truth” about her. She tried her best to shut out the noise, but it was difficult.
Finally, Hermione’s head snapped up and she turned to glare at the girl next to her. She had collarbone-length kinky black curls that floated like a cloud about her heart-shaped face and big, rich hazel eyes framed with luscious curling lashes that wouldn’t tear themselves away from Hermione. She wore a white dress made of chiffon and knee-high brown boots that laced up, and had flawless umber-brown skin and a pretty face.
“Can I help you?” she had demanded.
The girl shook her head vigorously, looking afraid, and quickly lowered her gaze to the sketchbook that rested atop her desk. Hermione eyed her warily for a moment longer before she faced the front. The professor had entered the room. Kids were still trying to get in a few last bits of juicy gossip about Hermione before the bell rang, some of them glancing furtively back at her as if she were going to sprout two heads at any moment. She merely held their gaze, not wanting them to gain the upper hand over her.
She was going to face them all, whether they believed her story or not, and she was going to succeed in school. She wanted to get her associate degree so she could go on to become a veterinary technician, to prove that she could do something right to her father and mother, and a school full of childish bullies wasn’t going to get in her way.
The girl next to her continued to look over at her all through that first class, and when it had ended, Hermione felt as if she couldn’t get out of there fast enough.
Fast forward to the last half of lunch, and Hermione was pouting at herself in the mirror in dismay. There was no way she was going to be able to finish out the rest of the school day looking and smelling like a garbage can. She reached up and picked a noodle off of the top of her head, flicking it away from her with a scowl. This was ridiculous. Why couldn’t people just let things go? Her brother was popular, yes, but was her life any of their business anymore?
She knew in her heart that she had told the truth about what her brother did, and her mother believed her, so that was all that mattered in Hermione’s opinion.
Hermione heard voices on the other side of the bathroom door, so she hurriedly scrambled into the nearest stall, sitting atop the toilet seat and pulling her knees to her chest. The voices were familiar, and to her surprise, she recognized them as belonging to two girls she had once called her close friends.
“Did you see her face, Romilda?” one of them snorted. “With all that food and shit…? Gross!”
“Yes,” Romilda, the second girl, responded, and Hermione heard makeup bags being unzipped. “It was disgusting. I would be so grossed out if that were me. But I mean…she kinda asked for it, coming back around us, and all. She could have gone to college in some other town.”
The first girl, Lavender, laughed scathingly. “I still can’t believe she’s actually back. After everything that happened, you’d think she’d be too embarrassed. Seriously, I mean she told everyone her brother got her pregnant. Like, so fucking ew. And honestly, like it’s been three years, yeah, but she almost ruined his future.”
“Yeah, like didn’t he almost lose his scholarship?”
“That’s what I heard. Some team was scouting him and he was this close to losing his shot. Thank God he still got it.”
“That’s fucked up. But yeah, thank God.”
“Exactly, so like…three years is nothing. People aren’t just gonna forget. You can’t just lie and try to ruin someone’s future with something that awful, and then expect everyone to forget about it a few years later. We aren’t gonna forget.”
Romilda made a gagging noise. “She should have moved to a different city, or something.”
“Seriously,” Lavender said. A makeup cap popped, followed by her lips. “What do you think of this red?”
“Absolutely not. Try this shade of pink I have. Here.”
Hermione winced at hearing her traumas and pain coming out of Lavender and Romilda’s mouths as if it all meant nothing. As if it really was a lie, and that in their eyes, even if it was true, then it was Hermione’s fault that it had happened. She could remember the looks on Romilda and Lavender’s faces when she’d told them at separate times, how enraged they’d been that she would accuse their friend of raping and impregnating her. Nobody believed her. Not her family, not her friends. Draco. Nobody.
She was completely alone.
“You know what was weird about the whole Hermione thing?” Lavender said, lowering her voice in a conspiratorial manner. “She said it had been going on for like, ever. Years.”
“Really? She didn’t tell me that.”
“Yeah, she said that it had been going on for years. Then, she wakes up pregnant, and so she told on him,” Lavender said. “I was like, ew, what the fuck. You were having a relationship with your adoptive brother?”
Romilda snorted. “That’s literally so gross. Like, seriously it makes me want to be sick.”
“Right?” Lavender scoffed. “Like, she was probably just fucking him and blamed Cormac to cover it up. She used to party all the time, right? Slept with every guy and his brother, so why would her own be any different? One time, she…”
Hermione tuned them out, closing her eyes against the torrent of tears that were threatening to come out. It was hard to hear her old friends talk about her like this. It was hard to listen to them bashing her when all she could see inside her mind were happy memories of the good times they had shared. Hermione could distinctly remember shopping trips, sleepovers, and making lemonade in the summer. She had told Lavender and Romilda about the nightmare she’d been experiencing because she had thought she could trust them; she wasn’t prepared for her closest girlfriends to reject her like that.
They hadn’t been very close at all.
“Well, whatever.” Lavender was finishing up. The sound of makeup bags zipping echoed in the bathroom. “I just don’t know what in the Hell possessed her to come back this year. Nobody wants her here, and she’s not going to have a good time.”
“Her funeral,” Romilda said, her words an audible shrug.
Hermione waited with bated breath for their heels to click-clack their way out of the bathroom before she let her feet hit the floor. She sat there, smelling like ketchup and staring blankly at the graffiti-covered stall walls, wondering where she went wrong in life to deserve the burdens that Karma had given her to carry.
Hermione eventually snuck out of the bathroom about ten minutes after the next class period had ended. She looked left and right, as though she were about to cross a freeway, and then bolted down the hall toward the nearest stairwell. The building was nearly empty, the only sounds coming from groups of stragglers still heading to their destinations.
She briefly felt remorseful about skipping her Sociology class. She wanted this school year to be a good one academically and she didn’t want to be “that girl,” the one who skips class to get out of turning in her homework, or something.
Hermione ran the rest of the way to the special locker she had rented out for the year, practically slamming herself against it in her anxiety. She quickly turned the dial on the lock so she could retrieve her books and backpack, hoping that nobody saw her in the state she was in. It had been embarrassing enough when the guy had dumped his meal on top of her head, and she didn’t want to repeat that. Heart beating fast, she threw the door open and scrambled to grab her things.
And that was when she heard his voice.
“No, for real,” he was saying to whoever it was that he was walking next to as he came strolling down the hall. “I just told her to quit freaking out. Like, I’m not going to fucking cheat on you, for the last time.”
Draco.
“Damn,” his friend responded. He had ice blond hair that was obviously bleached, because his jet-black roots were peeking through, and his skin was a faded shade of light brown. His nose was pierced and he was wearing clothes similar to Draco’s: skinny jeans, Nike kicks, and a V-neck. He went on to say, “I don’t know how you constantly deal with that shit. It’s like you guys are always crashing out.”
Hermione gulped in terror and stuffed her face inside her locker, hoping that they didn’t notice her. Because oh my God, that was Draco and his smile was so bright, and holy Hell, that was the drummer of Embrace, wasn’t it? Wasn’t it?! She started to tremble, because this was what she had tried to avoid all day. How coincidental that after she hid out and just now went to her locker, trying to scoot outside without anyone seeing her covered in somebody else’s lunch, here he comes, waltzing down the hall like nobody’s business? Was God trying to come for her?
“Yeah, we’re always fighting, but it’s whatever,” Draco replied, fingering the strap of his messenger bag. “She’s cute, and—”
“Draco, who are we kidding? You just like fucking her.”
Draco elbowed him sharply. “Fuck off.”
Hermione blinked against the darkness of her locker where she was standing with her head poked into it. Draco was having sex with someone? She didn’t know why it shocked her so much. He was almost twenty-one, after all. But she couldn’t stop her stomach from sinking. She had liked him once and she liked him still, and hearing that he was in a relationship with somebody only painfully reminded her of their lost friendship.
“She…” Draco’s voice trailed off, and Hermione mentally cursed the Heavens. Their footfalls slowed until they halted completely, and then, “Granger?”
Dear Lord God in the Heaven above, why are you doing this to me?! Hermione thought despondently as she slowly turned around to stare up at her incredibly tall, ridiculously attractive former best friend. Now that she was viewing him up close and not from behind the safety of her windshield, she could clearly see just how much his body and facial features had matured. His skin was smooth and his hair messy, his eyes bright and grey, and oh? Were those biceps? Hallelujah.
“Y-You’re back?” he asked, looking pale and astonished. His eyes studied her warily, taking in her disheveled appearance with a mixture of puzzlement and awe. It was as if she had died and was just now rising from the grave.
Hermione opened her mouth to speak, speechless and petrified, but Draco’s bandmate beat him to it.
“Wait? Is this…the Granger? The one y’all said lied about Cormac?”
The silent moment was shattered and Draco’s mind seemed to come spilling back into his body. His eyes hardened and he set his mouth into a thin line, causing Hermione to press her back against the locker as if the metal would embrace her and whisk her away.
“What are you doing here?” Draco grated out through clenched teeth, both of his hands wrapped tightly around his backpack strap.
Hermione drew her shoulders back and reared herself up to her full height. She only reached his chin and it was embarrassing, but it was the principle of the matter that counted most. She narrowed her eyes at him.
“Am I not allowed to go to school?” she demanded. “I’m here to get my degree, just like everybody else.”
Draco and his friend exchanged glances, and then he sneered down at her.
“You smell like ass,” he remarked nastily. “And you weren’t in class today when the teacher called your name. So you’re obviously not very serious about it.”
Hermione blinked.
Sociology.
Of course she would have a class with the one boy who knew how to tear her apart with a single look. And of course that happened to be the class that she’d skipped out on.
“For your information, I didn’t ask to be covered in all this nasty-ass food,” she spat. “And it’s none of your business how I go about graduating…” She averted her eyes. “At least, not anymore. So just fuck off, Malfoy.”
His friend hissed in amusement, laughing at the enraged expression that passed over Draco’s face.
Hermione slammed her locker door shut and stormed off, feeling simultaneously accomplished and forlorn. When she got to the doors that led outside, she paused momentarily and glanced back at Draco and his friend. They were still standing in front of her locker, conversing with each other. As she stopped, he suddenly turned his head and stared right back at her. The look on his face nearly made her faint.
“Draco! Draco! Wait up!”
Hermione skidded to a halt on the sidewalk as her ten-year-old best friend turned around to greet her. She bent over at the waist, placing her hands on her knees for support as she gulped in precious lungfuls of air. The girl had never been athletic, though she rather enjoyed a good swim every now and then. Her chin-length cloudlike curls were weighed down with sweat from sunlight and physical exertion, and she flushed with heat at her appearance.
“Where are you going?” she asked. “It’s summer! Weren’t we supposed to go down to the beach today?”
“I just…” He lowered his head, his pale hair seeming to droop with dismay. Something was obviously wrong with him, because he’d abruptly walked out of her house without giving any reasoning behind it just moments ago. She’d immediately taken off after him, chasing him up the hilly street.
“Aw, come on,” Hermione pleaded, pouting at him. He was the same height as her, as he always had been. “You promised me when you got back from your trip that you would.”
“I don’t really feel like it today, Hermione,” he said softly. “I just…I wanna go home.”
“Well…let me walk you there!” the nine-year-old exclaimed brightly, because she knew why he was sad. His grandma had just passed away and, while he didn’t really know her all that well, he had been acting really depressed as of late. So far, summer had been a total bust. “I’ve hardly gotten to see you since school let out.”
“O-Okay,” he agreed, turning and starting to walk away.
Determined to cheer him up, Hermione rushed ahead of him and started hop-skipping backward. She placed her fingers into her mouth and pulled her cheeks apart, blowing him a raspberry. He stopped walking and stared at her incredulously, though a smile tickled the corners of his lips.
“Stop, Hermione,” he said, unable to hide the laugh. “I mean it. I’m really sad right now.”
“I know,” she giggled, leaping forward to throw her arms around his neck. “That’s why I’m trying to cheer you up! Come on and smile. You always make me smile!”
“I don’t know if I can, Hermione,” he said, his arms hanging limply at his sides. There was that look again, that look of desolation and unbearably deep sorrow. Hermione didn’t like seeing it there. It made her think of the time when she accidentally left her Play-Dough out on the table and it dried out, so she couldn’t play with it anymore.
“Then here,” she said, letting go of him and looking around for something she could put to good use. She spotted a weed of some sort growing on the side of someone’s yard, so she bent down and plucked it from the dirt. She turned and faced him, grinning wickedly.
“What’s that for?” he asked.
“I’ll let you tickle me with this for…five whole seconds if you smile,” Hermione said decidedly, waving the prickly weed back and forth tauntingly. She knew how much Draco loved to tickle her. It had cracked him up when he tickled her in the spring and she peed her pants in church. She knew that he wouldn’t be able to resist her offer.
Draco arched his eyebrows and crossed his arms over his chest. “Five whole seconds?”
“Uh-huh.”
His grey eyes twinkled. “Ten seconds.”
“No way!” she protested. “I’ll go six-and-a-half, and that’s it.”
Draco pursed his lips. “Make it seven, and you’ve got yourself a deal!” He held his hand out, his face blank of any betraying emotions, so Hermione gladly took it to give it a good shake.
She soon realized her mistake when he tackled her to the grass, forgoing the use of the weed and using his fingers to tickle her sides with reckless abandon. She laughed and squealed, trying to hold her bladder as he tortured her. When she looked up at him, he was smiling, and it was exactly what she had been hoping to see: a ray of golden sunshine in the middle of an otherwise cloudy day.
Hermione leaned up and planted a kiss on his cheek that caused him to halt his incessant tickling, and when she pulled back and wrinkled her nose at him, he gazed down at her in shock. He was blushing a bright red that rivaled the color of spring apples. It made Hermione laugh heartily.
And she was content.
“W-what was that f-for?” he stammered nervously, sitting down on his rump next to her in the grass. He kept a hand on his cheek, as if her kiss were tangible, and looked at her with uncertainty.
“My brother says you kiss the ones you care about,” Hermione said, her words having more meaning than either of them could ever hope to understand. “And you’re my best friend, Draco. So keep smiling, okay? Everything’s gonna turn out fine!”
But as soon as the words left her lips, the smile faded from his eyes and the sadness returned, leaving Hermione feeling embarrassed and upset that her plan hadn’t worked. She vowed then that she would do whatever it took to make him smile again, even if it took all summer and all the tickle sessions in the world.
The memory faded into nothingness, and Hermione fought back tears. Draco was looking at her with that very same look right now, and she knew that she had failed. She had broken her promise to him, just as he had to her, and they were at a standstill. It was not so much a matter of betrayal as it was the actual matter of trust, the most delicate flower of all.
Funny how childhood friendships always seem to shatter the easiest, isn’t it?