Author's Notes: Thanks for the response on the last chapter...I really had fun writing this one, and as always, Malfoy kind of stole the spotlight. I bloody love him.
Chapter Twelve-- Silly Putty and Other Brilliant Malfoy Philosophies
Harry Potter felt as though he were flying. He was running as fast as he could down the stairs of Hermione's apartment, and the only way he could have been moving any faster was if his Firebolt had magically shown up and given him a ride.
"She loves me!" he cried to an empty street, while flapping his arms frantically to hail a cab. "She loves me!!! Bloody hell, I need a ride, I can't Apparate like this. Cab! Oh, damn, c'mon, uh..." Harry racked his brain as he scanned the deserted road. Suddenly, a brilliantly ludicrous thought occurred to him. "Accio Taxi!" he muttered under his breath.
There was about a half a second delay while Harry wondered if it had worked.
Thirty seconds after that, he was tucked safely in the back of a shiny black car, leaving behind the chaos that was a dozen vehicles that had been summoned into a fire hydrant, a lamppost, a street sign, a fence, a dog, a manhole, a ditch, a storefront, an old woman, a display of fruit, a news stand and a manure truck, respectively.
Between the smell and the water, Harry managed to slip away unnoticed into the one undamaged car.
"I wonder if I should leave them a note, " he mused as his cab pulled away.
Harry Potter had never been happier. And in an hour or so, everything would be as it should be in his life, for the first time ever.
At least, that's what he thought.
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Draco took a deep breath and knocked on Hermione's door, willing his heart to slow down.
"I will be strong, " he told himself firmly. "I will play the friend role, and I will take care of her, and then I will get out. Hear me, Malfoy? Don't be a jackass and screw anything up between her and Harry, you know she loves him...unless he doesn't love her, in which case that would be fair game, and..." he shook his head emphatically, as if to clear it.
"Look at this! I'm such a fruit-loop, I'm already trying torationalize things that haven't happened yet! Get it together, Malfoy!"
Finally, after what seemed an eternity to Draco, Hermione answered the door, looking...well, looking as though she had just spent an hour wrestling awilde-beast.
"Granger, " Malfoy greeted shortly. "You look like twenty-seven miles of bad road.And I mean really bad, with potholes, and bumps, and those uneven traffic lines that are so bloody irritating, and--"
"I get it, mate," sighed Hermione wearily. "Will you just come inside and try to pretend you know how to be a sensitive male?"
Draco crossed the threshold and closed the door behind him. "I'll try, Granger, but I'm warning you now, if you think I'm going to watch Bridget Jones and talk about Colin Firth's arse, you're as delusional as Gilderoy Lockhart."
Hermione threw herself on the couch as Malfoy took the arm chair farthest away from her. She sat up and gave him a pitiful look.
"Why are you way over there? I'm going through a mental breakdown and I need a shoulder to cry on."
"This old gray mare, she ain't what she used to be, Granger, " replied Draco smoothly. "These shoulders are closed for business, so you better take what you can get, which is an ear. Start talking."
"They're big enough," mumbled Hermione crossly.
The Slytherin prince raised a customary eyebrow. "Watch it, Gryffindor. Your teeth may have been shrunk but your mouth is as big as ever. I might have to hex you."
"Like you did to Hannah?" Hermione asked a tad too casually.
Draco smiled ruefully. "I knew you didn't buy that crap, Granger.I'll explain some other time. Right now, just tell me what you dragged me out of bed for."
"Harry."
"Duh," retorted Malfoy sarcastically. Somehow, even the basest of insults came across eloquently in the man's silky tones.
"I told him, Drake," whispered Hermione pathetically. "I told him, and I snogged him, and...he ran out. I mean, it was like he was on fire or something."
"His pants probably were."
"Oh, shut it, Malfoy, you know what I mean. He acted like he was absolutely repulsed by me or something. It's because I'm ugly, isn't it?"
"Self deprecation doesn't become you, Granger. You know damn well you're not ugly. Now if you had said stupid, I might have boughten it, but ugly? Not a chance."
Hermione laughed in spite of herself. "Stupid, huh?"
"Oh, absolutely," nodded Malfoy solemnly, "I mean, you're practically an idiot savant."
Hermione still had the trace of a smile on her face, but she remained silent.
Draco sighed. "Listen, Mione. It's not easy to find out that someone you thought was your friend is really the love of your life. Potter might be having a hard time adjusting. It's like having a dream come true, and sometimes it is hard to believe that it's real. He'll come around."
"And--and if he doesn't?" The witch bit her lip.
"Not possible."
"Drake," pleaded Hermione, "And if he doesn't?"
"Then you'll reshape your heart and move on. Contrary to popular belief, Granger, the human heart isn't made of glass. It's more like silly putty. Sometimes it gets stretched out or misshapen or spotted with dirt, but if you give it enough time, it will go back to it's original shape. It's just that sometimes you have to get your hands a little sticky to do that."
The brunette shook her head. "I dunno if I can go through this anymore. Maybe I should just cut my losses and get over it."
Malfoy got up and poured two drinks, handing one to Hermione and seating himself beside her.
"Do you really want to let him go?"
"I don't think I have a choice."
Draco ran a hand through his hair. "You always have a choice, Granger."
Hermione stared at him intensely for a moment. "You're right, Drake," she said in a dazed voice. "Maybe I made the wrong one to begin with...maybe I can fix it now..." And she learned forward and pressed her lips against his.
It took all of Draco Malfoy's self control to push her gently away. She had already been seemingly rejected once tonight, but it wouldn't be right to let her convince herself that he was the one she should be with. Because in his heart of hearts, Draco knew that he wasn't. And God, how he hated that knowledge.
"Hermione," he said with his usual glib humor, "I can permit you to call me Drake, because you're upset, and I can let you cry and talk, and hell, I'll even take back what I said earlier and discuss Colin Firth's arse with you. But I CANNOT, under any circumstances, allow you to put your lips all over my delectable body, because I'm sorry to say, I'm on my period. Perhaps next time you have a mental breakdown, if I'm not afraid of getting pregnant or something."
Hermione Granger laughed harder than she ever had in her entire life. Malfoy's typical sarcasm and irritating manner had brought her back to herself.
"You're right, Malfoy, you're right. I mean, what would our kids look like?" she gave a fake shudder.
"Probably sexy as hell if they took after their dad."
This gave Hermione another good laugh.
"So is this working?" asked Draco in an unusually candid moment. "Is the laughing making your head clearer?"
Hermione nodded. "Yes, thank you. And...I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I dismiss your feelings for me and call you whenever I'm having a self-esteem issue. It's unfair."
"No, no, it's not. That's what friends are for, Granger. And I will always, always be your friend. I love you too much not to be."
"I love you too, Drake. And if there wasn't a Harry..." the witch trailed off thoughtfully.
"But there is a Harry," Draco reminded her as he stood up. "And you belong with him. Now get some rest, and call him in the morning.Let me know if you need anything."
Hermione stood up as well. "I need a hug," she admitted.
Malfoy hugged her tightly and went to the door, pausing.
"And Granger," he added, "It wouldn't hurt if you slutted yourself up a bit."
Hermione threw a decorative pillow at his retreating back.
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Hannah answered her door with a bright smile.
"Harry," she grinned. "What are you ding here? I thought you were spending time with Hermione?"
Harry met her eyes. "I need to talk to you."
Hannah furrowed her brow. "I need to talk to you, too."
Harry stepped inside and into Hannah's kitchen, seating himself at her table. She sat across from him.
"Hannah," he began, and then stopped. "You first."
She shuffled her feet and wiggled in her chair. "You're not going to like this," she confessed, "But I can't lie to you. I just hope that you'll find it in your heart to forgive me."
"I'm listening."
Hannah took a deep breath. "I'm not an Ancient Runes professor...well, I am , it was my major in college, but...that's not what I do for a living. I'm a tabloid reporter."
Harry's jaw clenched, but he said nothing.
"You were supposed to be my first big story. I was supposed to get close to you and find some secret out about you; anything, really. I told my family I wanted to follow you to Albania because I had a crush on you, and then...I don't know, I guess the easiest way to get near you seemed to be to date you. The only girl I had ever seen you hang around was Hermione Granger, so I tried to act like her, especially when we got back here and I could pick her brain. It's just...it's just that I didn't count on falling for you, Harry. I care for you, I love you, and... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I never meant to hurt you."
Harry stared at her in disbelief, unable to process what he was hearing. Hannah continued talking.
"It wasn't all pretend, Harry. I mean, I really hate being called Anna-Banana, and I can't stand acting like a ditz, but...I really do love Quidditch, and moose tracks ice cream, and spending time with you. You make me feel like a real person, Harry, something I haven't had in a long time. I know that you could never marry me now, but I was hoping that maybe...maybe you would still want to see me? Get to know me?"
Harry was on overload, and wasn't sure what to do. Sincerity was radiating off the Hufflepuff, and for the first time in many weeks, Harry caught a glimpse of the woman he had fallen in love with. But, what about Hermione? He loved her. He had always loved her. How was he going to tell Hannah that? Although she had lied to him, he cared about her, and he didn't want to break her heart.
"Hannah, I'm--" the wizard's words were cut off by his mobile ringing. "Bloody hell, hold on," he said, answering it crossly.
"Hello?"
"Harry?" came a tentative voice.
His voice softened. "Hermione?"
"Yeah, it's me. Are you busy?"
"I'm with Hannah right now, and-"
"Oh." Hermione felt her heart stretching out of shape, as Draco called it. She had to make a decision. Malfoy had been wrong. Harry wasn't going to come around, he was with his fiancee right now, probably explaining what a nutter his best mate was. And she knew that she couldn't lose him.
"Listen, doll, about earlier--"
"Yeah, I wanted to talk to you about that," she interrupted. "I was just messing with you, you know? A pre-wedding joke and all. Hope you didn't take it too seriously or anything."
Harry felt his heart plummet."Oh, no no, of course not. You--in love with me? That's a good one." He gave a fake chuckle.
"A good one, yeah. So, um. I just wanted to let you know that, I mean, I know that you know that there was a little tension between us tonight, and I just uh, well I wanted you to know that I know that you know that it was just a weird night and all, and uh, that I know that you didn't really mean it, you're just all romantic about your wedding and all. So I know what you're feeling, and uh, I know that you knowthat I know that it was all just a little midnight nostalgia...you know?"
"Sure?"
"Great," sighed the woman. "I wanted to tell you that I'm going to be a bit busy, and maybe we can do some of the planning via email for the next couple of weeks?"
"Okay, I guess so," replied the Auror reluctantly. "If you want."
"I appreciate you being so flexible, because we're friends at all, even though technically I'm working for you."
"Hermione," protested Harry, "You know I don't think of it that way at all. You're doing me a favor--"
"I know, I know. Anyway, also make sure you talk to Ginny about Hannah's shower, and I'll help her through some emails, too, give her some coaching and whatnot. Okay?"
"Yeah. Yeah," he said sadly.
"Give Hannah my best. Good-night."
"Night."
Harry turned back to Hannah, who was staring at him anxiously.
"Okay," he said resignedly. "Okay, Hannah. I forgive you."
"And you'll--you still want to see me sometimes?" she asked nervously.
"No," he said firmly. "No--I don't want to do this halfway. The worst is out of the way, the secrets, the temptation for betrayal. I still want to marry you."
"Oh, Harry," Hannah threw her arms around him. She knew he was loyal, but she never expected him to take the truth like this. What a piece of pumpkin pasty.
Harry hugged her back. Oh, Harry indeed. If he couldn't have Hermione, then he might as well marry someone who loved him. And if Hannah was willing to give up her career and everything she had previously held dear--well, then, what did a few original lies matter?
He hoped he knew what he was doing.