Summary
After the final battle, Hermione is mysteriously brought back from the dead, but at a cost.Other Info
- Chapters: 13
- Words: 23979
- Published: 2004-03-20
- Updated: 2004-04-05
- In Progress
- Original URL: http://fanfiction.portkey.org/story/1911
Death or Something Like It
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document.write(''); chapter eleven: P.A.R.
Hermione was pretending to read, but it wasn't really going all that well. For the first time in her life, she could muster little enthusiasm for a book, even if it was the one that Harry had given to her so thoughtfully on her last birthday. A Symbiotic Arrangement: House Elves and the Wizards Who Need Them, the cover read. Hermione was trying desperately to get into her old S.P.E.W. fervor, but her mind kept wandering to the dark places.
Your parents don't want you, the dark voice whispered.
They were happy you died.
No one wants you.
Hermione shook her head, forcing her mind to happier thoughts. Harry and Ron and Ginny were being rather lovely about the whole thing. Ginny kept offering to do her hair, and Harry kept trying to bring her things to eat, and even Ron kept giving her sympathetic looks and offering to carry things for her. But truth be told, they were being a little too lovely. She felt like a piece of fine china, suffocating in a submersion of bubble wrap. Not really the most pleasant of sensations.
" Want to start a club?"
Startled, Hermione looked up to see Draco standing over her, a magnificent figure etched against the sun. Hermione found that she was overwhelmingly happy to see him. Here was someone who would help to peel away the bubble wrap. Here was someone who would risk breaking her.
" I've been thinking about it," Draco continued, " We can call ourselves P.A.R.: Parents Are Revolting. I'll be president, of course, and you can be treasurer."
Hermione was suddenly embarrassed to look at him. " So you've heard then."
Draco's face softened visibly. " Yeah, Harry owled me."
Harry had willingly corresponded with Draco? Hermione felt a sudden surge of affection, though she couldn't quite decipher if it was for Harry or Draco. As disconcerting as it was, that sort of thing was happening a lot lately.
" I'm here for you, Hermione," Draco said, meeting her gaze solemnly. " I know what you're going through."
And that was the difference, Hermione realized. Draco wasn't looking at her with sympathy like the others; he was looking at her with *understanding*. He knew what it felt like to have his parents abandon him. When she thought of how awful it must have been for him to turn against his father...
Abruptly, Hermione threw herself at Draco, hugging him tightly. " I don't understand," she said, and realized with a start that she was crying, " they used to love me, Draco, I know they did."
" I know." Draco's voice was soothing; he rubbed her back. " They did love you, Hermione. I'm sure of it."
Hermione frowned, pulling back to study his face. " But...how can you know? Did you ever even meet them?"
Draco looked suddenly embarrassed. " When you were gone," he said, then cleared his throat and reiterated, " When you were gone, I went to visit with your parents. Your mum especially. We'd sit and have tea and talk about you." His gaze become far-off, almost as though he had forgotten she was there. " She looks like you. Same eyes, same gestures. You laugh like your father. They're both clever, and they both use self-deprecating humor when they're embarrassed, just like you."
Hermione stared at him, incredulous, and was overwhelmed once again at her own death. He had missed her. Not just in the sense that he'd thought about her from day to day. He'd missed her so much that he'd gone to visit with her parents, even though she knew that Lucius's hatred for Muggles must still be ingrained in his mind. He'd MOURNED for her.
" Oh, Draco," Hermione murmured, and she impulsively leaned forward to kiss him.
He was cool to the touch, surprisingly soft...just as she remembered. Their kissing intensified, and Hermione began to lose herself to it. She was alive again. She'd been breathing all this time, but now she was really alive.
And then suddenly, unwanted, unbidden, an image came to mind. A scar. A smile. A pair of green eyes.
Hermione pulled back, breathing heavily. She lowered her gaze, afraid to look at him; Draco had always possessed the uncanny ability to sense what she was thinking.
"Who knew going for tea would get such a reward?" Draco joked lightly. Even with her gaze downcast, she could feel his eyes upon her, studying her. " I suppose this isn't the right time to mention that I've been watching your cat, too."
" He's well, I hope," Hermione said weakly.
Draco was silent for a moment. " I won't ever be able to compete with him, will I?" Silence. " That's your decision, I guess. But let me ask you this-where is Harry now? Where is he when you most need him? Off with Ginny somewhere, no doubt."
Hermione felt as though she'd been slapped in the face. Yes. Ginny. Harry was with Ginny. No matter how many times she acknowledged that information, it still stung.
Draco turned to leave, but Hermione caught his arm. " Wait," she begged, her voice faltering. " Please, don't leave me."
Draco was silent, and then his face softened once more. He sat back down again, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. "So, what should the mascot of P.A.R. be?"
Hermione smiled back at him. " I've always been fond of beavers..."
***
Harry watched from the living room of the Burrow. Hermione and Draco were talking now, and he'd actually seen her smile a few times. He wasn't really sure how he felt about that. On the one hand, it was nice to see Hermione looking happy. But on the other...
Why should it be Draco?
Why couldn't it be him?
Harry pushed the thought from his mind, but not quickly enough. It seemed that there was a whole new barrage of questions assaulting him. He'd known it was the right thing to ask Draco to come see Hermione; he'd known that it would cheer her up. And it worked. So why did it bother him so much to watch them together? Why did he feel sickened at the sight of them kissing?
*It's because Malfoy's a git*, Harry reasoned with himself. *Hermione deserves better. Draco's all wrong for her. She needs someone else...someone like...*
Like you?
Harry jumped at the thought. Blasted questions. The sight of Draco and Hermione kissing had jarred him more than he had realized. He and Hermione were just friends. He loved her, but not like that.
You didn't mind kissing her that night at Hogwarts.
*That's just ridiculous,* Harry argued with himself. *I'm a teenage boy, and Hermione's an attractive girl...of course I didn't MIND...*
Platonic friends don't have such lurid fantasies.
*Stop it.*
Like the one last night when you were on the beach ala "From Here to Eternity" and the waves were crashing on the shore and-
"STOP!" Harry cried, not realizing that he had spoken aloud until he glanced up at the portrait on the wall and saw it staring at him suspiciously.
" Losing your marbles, dear?" the portrait inquired. " I had an insane uncle once. Took to wearing diapers on his head and ladies' bloomers underneath his trousers..."
Harry ignored her, turning his gaze back to the window. Finally, it seemed, Draco was leaving and Hermione was alone again. Harry went to the back door, intending to have a word with his completely-platonic-not-remotely-romantic best friend. However, before he could step outside, he ended up face to face with Malfoy.
The two boys could barely maintain their mutual dislike.
" Potter." Malfoy sneered.
" Malfoy," Harry snapped in return.
They regarded each other for a moment. Had they been impartial observers, they might have found humor in the fact that both were standing up as straight as they could and puffing out their chests in an extremely immature fashion; as it was, they were both so preoccupied with out-testosteroning the other that they didn't take notice.
" Leaving then?" Harry said, his voice forcefully cheerful. " Don't let me keep you. See you in a few decades."
Draco smirked at him. " I don't know if you remember, Potter, but you're the one who invited me here. And judging by Hermione's reaction, she wasn't too disappointed to see me."
Harry felt an odd sensation, like someone had inflated a balloon in his chest and then popped it abruptly. He kept his face straight though, and glared at Draco. " Yes, well, I didn't expect you to snog Hermione on the back lawn."
Draco raised an eyebrow. " You were watching us?"
" No." Harry said, awkwardly averting his gaze.
"Well, Potter," Draco drawled, " this is a whole new level of pathetic, even for you. Here's a wild thought: why don't you stay out of my relationship with Hermione?"
" Relationship?" Harry echoed.
Draco folded his arms. " Yeah, and what of it? You have something to say, Potter, then spit it out."
Harry merely stared at him for a moment, then abruptly turned to the staircase. "I need to practice Quidditch." he said, and bolted up the stairs.
Draco frowned after him. " Quidditch?" he repeated aloud. He shook his head and was about to head toward the fireplace to use the floo network when he spotted Ginny in the hallway. Her eyebrows were narrowed, and she didn't seem too happy. Draco met her gaze and grinned. " Well, well, if it isn't Weasley number seven."
Folding her arms, she glared at him. " I detest bullies."
" And I detest the practice of dressing animals in costumes," Draco returned evenly. " Glad we have that out in the open now."
Ginny rolled her eyes. "Why are you still here, Malfoy? And why do you keep staring at me like that?"
Draco met her gaze. " I just hate to see a pretty girl wasting away while she waits for some wanker."
" I don't know what you're talking about, Malfoy." Ginny snapped in return, her eyes livid. " Harry and I are very much in love."
" Please, Ginny, not even Weasleys are that stupid." Draco returned, his eyes sparkling with mirth. " Harry only thinks he loves you because you're such a fixture in his life. Like Ron or Dumbledore or Hedwig."
" Well, he's not looking to snog Hedwig," Ginny snapped irritably, " or if he is then he's beyond my help." Draco smiled at this, which only served to annoy Ginny further. " Oh, come off it, Malfoy. Hermione doesn't love you, either."
He continued to smile, but there was no longer any amusement in his eyes. "Well, you've proved me wrong." he said quietly. " Apparently, Weasleys ARE that stupid."
Angrily, he turned and headed out the front door, slamming it for good measure. Ginny flinched at the noise but continued to watch after him long after he'd gone.
***
By the time Harry realized that he didn't really intend to play Quidditch, he'd already gathered all of his things together. It was tempting to just forget everything else and jump on his Firebolt, but Harry had a sudden, horrible vision of himself distractedly flying into a telephone wire and winding up with hair like Madame Hooch.
" Bugger this," he said, dropping his equipment. Determinedly, he closed his eyes and imagined himself in the backyard...
A moment later, he had apparated outside, landing-rather unfortunately-on top of Hermione. She let out a squeal of surprise. " Harry!"
Flushing, Harry scrambled to his feet. *Do NOT think about being on top of Hermione,* he directed himself, though he couldn't help but reflect that she'd felt rather soft and firm and smelled like peppermint...
" Sorry," Harry said quickly. " But I need to talk to you."
Hermione frowned at him. " Why are you wearing your old Quidditch uniforms?"
Harry glanced down and saw that he had forgotten to change back into his normal clothes. "Ur...Ron wanted a match, but I needed to have a word with you first."
It was a plausible reason, but Harry found that now that he was outside with Hermione, he could no longer think of anything to say to her. She was watching him expectantly, and he felt stupider and stupider with each and every second that stretched on in silence.
" How did things go with Malfoy?" he asked finally.
Hermione blushed. " Um...fine. Thank you for owling him, Harry."
He was not about to be distracted by her gratitude. " Well, I've noticed how close you two seem." He cleared his throat. "Just...um...just how close is that, exactly?"
" What do you mean?"
Harry looked into her eyes, steeling himself. " Is he your boyfriend?"
Hermione sighed and glanced down at her hands. " Things are complicated with Draco," she admitted. " I couldn't really explain it to you."
" Not really," Harry countered. " You just open your mouth and use your vocal chords..."
He knew he was being a git, but he felt powerless to stop himself. It was as though someone had taken over his body. He was a mere puppet now, dangling precariously from a set of strings. In a moment, the puppet master would no doubt make him perform an embarrassing dance and make him look even more ridiculous than he already felt.
Hermione's face had stiffened. " Harry, I'd rather not discuss it with you, if you don't mind."
And the puppet master took control again. " But I do mind, Hermione. Why is it that you can talk to Malfoy and not to me? You're my best friend. I want to help you."
" Because you can't possibly understand!" Hermione burst out. " You don't know what it's like to lose your parents!"
As soon as the words had been spoken, Hermione covered her mouth in horror. "Oh, Harry," she gasped, " Harry, I'm so sorry!"
Numbly, Harry stared at her. " You're right," he said finally, " I'm sorry that I never knew my parents, 'cuz if I had then I could be in your little club--"
Hermione jumped to her feet and threw herself at him, crushing him in her embrace. " I didn't mean it, Harry! I'm sorry. It's too much...it's all too much, but I never meant to take it out on you. Never you."
Harry hesitated, but only for a moment, and then he returned the embrace, wrapping his arms around her. "I'm sorry, too," he said. " Your relationship with Draco is your own business. I have no right to interfere."
They stayed like that until it became a bit too awkward, then drew away. Hermione looked as though she was about to sit back down, but Harry took her hands impulsively. " Come with me."
Hermione glanced down at their intertwined fingers then back into his eyes. "Where?"
" Just come with me," Harry said. " I have an idea..."
***
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