PROMISES Chapter 7
Chapter 7 : Hermione's funeral.
Draco checked his outfit one last time. He straightened the sleeves of his cloak, picked up the flowers he'd just cut from his garden, and left his small office for the main room where he had the fireplace temporarily connected to his family's home.
Draco found Hermione there, as usual sitting on the floor, so concentrated on her reading that she didn't seem to notice his arrival. He knew that she was studying his genealogy, convinced that his ability to see her was coming from his genes. Slowing his pace, his eyes fell on her weak-looking wrists and slim fingers that were currently caressing the old parchment, and he couldn't help but wonder if they were simply delicate or if her fondness for books had made them rough.
He stopped in the middle of the room and she finally seemed to acknowledge his presence.
"Is something wrong?" She asked, not removing her eyes from the parchment she was reading.
"I'm leaving."
"Where?"
"Somewhere you're not," He replied, and walked toward the fireplace.
"I can follow you everywhere you go," Hermione reminded him, although she had no intention of doing so.
"You're not allowed to."
She lifted her head in his direction, and noticed the flowers.
"You have a date?"
"I... I'm going to visit my father's grave."
"Oh," she felt stupid and tactless. "I'm...," she began, but paused. What was she? Sorry? Not really. She used to hate Lucius Malfoy and thought that he'd deserved to die in prison. Nonetheless, she knew it wasn't easy for the proud and haughty Draco to deal with the disgrace of his family name. Somewhere inside her, she sympathized with the former Slytherin boy.
"Those lilies are for Snape, though..." Draco added.
Hermione smiled softly before going back to her studies, missing Draco's own slight smile before he disappeared behind the green smoke of flu powder.
Draco wasn't home until late that evening. Hermione was in the lounge, sitting next to the window. Her head was bowed, hidden by her tucked knees. He was about to ask her if her search had been fruitful when he heard her sniffle.
"Granger?"
She shuddered but didn't look up.
"Granger, are you crying? What's wrong?"
He felt slightly panicked, hoping nothing had disrupted their plans. Did everything fall through?
"What happened?" He asked.
She lifted her head slowly and Draco could finally see her face, cheeks streamed by tears and sorrow. Her watery eyes met his, and he automatically stepped back, stuck by the pain reflected in her gaze.
"Nothing... It's just... My parents. They're giving up... They had a funeral, my funeral... "
Draco felt a mixture of both relief and horror. Relief, since their plans had not been troubled; horror because he knew it would be strange to attend your own funeral. What was he supposed to say? To console Hermione Granger was out of question, but the feeling that he had to at least say something was overwhelming.
"That grave doesn't mean anything. You're still alive, Granger...they just don't know it yet."
"I know. It-it's just that... I was there... I saw them... convinced that they won't ever see me again..." she stifled a moan.
"Potter was there?" He asked randomly.
She nodded.
"Everyone was… except Ron. I know my friends are not abandoning me, I think they just wanted to honor my parents. Oh, Malfoy, what if we fail? What if I stay this way? What if I end up dying alone and invisible?"
"Well, I can see you. You might be invisible to other's eyes, but not to mine."
She glanced up at him, quite confused. Realizing what he had just said, Draco chuckled as he imagined himself sharing a room with Gilderoy Lockhart in Saint Mungo's, swearing that he can see Hermione Granger.
Hermione smiled faintly.
"Malfoy, how do you see me?" She demanded after a pause.
"What?"
"I can't see myself in the mirror. What do I look like now?"
He seemed embarrassed, not really understanding the question. "You look like you always have," he responded quickly.
"I'm serious," she said quietly.
Draco observed her quietly, head to toe, wondering how he should respond. All of a sudden, it was as if he had never seen her before. All of her features-her voice, her eyes-looked strangely new and different. He realized that since he had been so used to loathing her, he had never actually observed the witch. Still-it was her: Hermione Granger. He caught every detail of her appearance for the first time.
"Your hair…" rippled madly down to her waist like a dark mane, "…looks like it's going to eat someone. Your skin..." was white and fresh, as if she'd never been under sunlight, "…is as white as a ghost, and…" her cheeks and nose were red from crying and the only real color of her face resided into her lips: pink and soft, "…What do you want me to say?" He asked, irrationally irritated. "You look like yourself, like a rag."
He threw her such a despising look, that Hermione felt awfully exposed and poor in her now threadbare clothing. "Can you do something for me?" She asked, nervously twiddling a lock of hair.
"No," he coldly answered, not even willing to hear her request.
"I just want to reassure them..."
"No."
"Please, it hurts me so much to see them suffering..." she pleaded.
"No," he repeated again.
"Malfoy, think about your parents! What would you have done if you were in my place?"
"Thank Merlin I'm not in your place."
"Imagine!"
He pretended to think hard about it for a moment before saying, "No."
Hermione sighed in exasperation.
"Anyway, what do you think they'll do if I bang on their door and say 'Your daughter is alive'? They'll think I'm your kidnapper!" he added.
"No, I was thinking of an anonymous message. You could send it from a muggle town when we are in Palestine. We'll be careful."
Malfoy shoved his hands in his pockets in resignation."Alright," he finally agreed, and his view was instantly obscured by a mass of bushy hair, his body was wrapped in warmth.
"Thank you so much! I don't know what I would do without you," said Hermione after releasing him from her impromptu hug. "What?" she asked as he put a hand on his abdomen, a frown wrinkling his forehead.
"I feel nauseous."
Hermione hit him playfully on the arm, and received a smirk.
Although the sensation of nausea can be related to unease and discomfort, deep disgust was in no way what Draco Malfoy had been feeling.
Early one night, while Hermione was hanging around Malfoy's house waiting for him to arrive home from work, a loud alarm rang out everywhere inside the mansion.
Both fearful and impressed, she watched as walls moved, staircases changed direction, rooms changed disposition, furniture and trinkets changed form and vanished, and even some bookcases disappeared entirely.
Wondering who was trying to trespass inside the mansion, Hermione checked the boundaries of the property. She could discern three points of light in the far back of the garden as she came closer to see the intruders.
"Oh! Oof...Aaah," Harry, Ron, and Ginny were struggling against giant flowers which were trying to prevent them from reaching the house.
"Malfoy!" Hermione screamed in panic, disapperating as quickly as she could before landing catastrophically inside a hotel room. "Oh, Merlin..."
Two glasses of wine clinked together with a crystal tinkle.
While closing the distance between him and his host, Draco boasted of being the descendant of the wine's brand. "My great-great-uncle used to say that it tastes better on a woman's lips..."
The witch's name was Clio. Her bright grey eyes sparkled and she approached him until her lips brushed Draco's, who took her into a passionate kiss.
After taking off her silk blouse, the girl began to unbutton Draco's shirt, but he suddenly recoiled, as if burned, at a sound only he could hear.
"Is something wrong?" She asked nervously.
"Huh? Uh, no, I thought I heard someone banging on the door..."
Draco shot an annoyed look over his shoulder before returning his attention to the witch before him.
"Remind me where we left off?"
Clio chuckled as she put her arms around his neck and declared, "Draco, I love you..."
"Me too..." He fondly responded.
"Really?"
"Yeah, I quite love myself, too," he said with a smirk.
She was a bit miffed by his joke but chose to smile at it. She bent to kiss him, when he jumped once again.
"What's the problem now?"
"Uh, I need to use the loo," he got up quickly, looking furious and leaving the witch to wonder what she'd done to upset him.
"Bloody hell, have you got the memory of a troll? I told you to not follow me when I'm not at home!" Draco hissed angrily at Hermione as he closed the door to the loo behind him.
"You told me that you were at work! I didn't know that shagging that blond ostrich was a part of it."
"Mind your own business!" he said before storming out the small restroom and finding Clio frowning at him.
"Who are you talking to?" the witch asked worriedly.
"No one," he opened the door widely to let her check the room, ignoring Hermione.
"It's urgent Malfoy!" Hermione claimed uselessly.
Clio's eyes fixed Draco suspiciously, then scrutinized every part of the room.
"Well, I guess it's the wine. It makes me a bit tense..." she said seeming satisfied, then turned back to the main room, followed by Draco and, unknown to her, Hermione. "To be honest, I'm not use to drinking so much."
Draco nodded, waving towards Hermione to leave.
"Look: Harry, Ron and Ginny are trying to break into your house," Hermione said desperately.
Malfoy stopped in his tracks.
"What?"
"I'm not use to drinking this much," Clio repeated shyly.
"Not you!"
He turned towards Hermione.
"My friends are in your garden. I'd give them... ten minutes, before reaching your library and finding all our research."
"Draco, are you alright?" asked the other girl. "Are you drunk?"
He hastily buttoned his shirt and straightened his clothes with a flip of his wand.
"Draco..." called Clio, but he was already gone.