A/N: I got all the reviews replied to, woohoo! Wow, 114 reviews! I'm overwhelmed that people are enjoying this story so much! Thanks, thanks, and thanks again to all the lovely people who have taken the effort to review this story. It's much appreciated. So here's part 5 with the long-awaited entrance of Draco. (Part 6 will explain how they became friends, so don't worry if their relationship seems a bit confusing at first!) And also in this section… well… Hermione's going to make a decision that I'm pretty sure most of you are *not* going to like. Please bear with me? I promise it will all come out right in the end. Special thanks this time to H_HrFan for pointing out the typos in the last chapter. I'm thinking of coming up with some sort of reward system for the first person to alert me to any typos. Any suggestions?
Section 5:
It took nearly twenty minutes, but Hermione finally managed to convince Harry that she didn't want to go back to the party. He didn't believe her when she said that she was just tired and wanted to sleep, but when she repeated it without backing down, over and over again, he had no choice but to give in. Reluctantly, he walked her to her door and said goodnight before heading back to Gryffindor tower under the shelter of his invisibility cloak. Hermione let out a sigh of relief as she gave the portrait the password and entered her common room.
"And what did Potty do this time?" a drawling voice asked as the portrait clicked shut behind her.
"It wasn't his fault," Hermione replied automatically as she crossed over to the couch and collapsed onto it next to Draco, closing her eyes.
"Yes, you always say that," Draco answered. "And I never believe you. Why do you think that is?"
"Because you're naturally suspicious of everyone and never believe anything anyone tells you?" Hermione suggested with her eyes still shut.
"Very funny. Here, turn around and let me get your neck." Obediently, Hermione turned, pushing her hair out
of the way to give Draco access to the back of her neck. He gave the most amazing massages she had ever had in her
life, and she wasn't about to turn the
opportunity down. Merlin knows she'd take anything she could get at the moment that stood any chance of helping her
relax.
"Why did I have to wait so long to find out how good you are at this?" she purred as his talented hands started working the tension out of her neck and shoulders.
"Maybe because you only recently became perceptive enough to appreciate my charming, charismatic nature?" Draco suggested, conversationally.
"It's possible," Hermione conceded. "Of course, it's also possible that it's because you were a brain-washed, prejudiced, close-minded, ignorant, arrogant arsehole for the first sixteen years of your life, which rather got in the way of us becoming close friends."
"Yes, there's that," Draco agreed, amicably. Hermione smiled and closed her eyes as she leaned further into the massage. Her friendship with Draco was as unexpected as anything that had happened in her life, including discovering she was a witch. After all, little girls dream of being powerful witches and casting spells all the time, but before it happened, Hermione would never have dreamt that she would become friends with Draco Malfoy. In fact, she would have wagered every knut she had that she and the blond-haired Slytherin would despise each other to their dying days. After all, he spent the first five years of their Hogwarts education being absolutely horrible to her at every possible opportunity. But then sixth year rolled around.
It seemed like everything that Hermione took for granted in her life during the first five years of school changed when sixth year started. First Ron spent months trying to convince her that they were destined to be together, then he fell in love with the Ravenclaw who he constantly claimed drove him batty. (Of course, he had often said the same thing about Hermione, which led her to wonder whether Ron had a certain penchant for girls who showed a sort of talent at driving him up the wall.) Harry had gotten together with Lavender. Ginny had gotten together with Neville, and Hermione had become friends with Draco. Hermione smiled as she leaned back into Draco's magic touch. Yes, she was most definitely glad that she had become friends with Draco. His neckrubs, his late night chats with her, his essential and unmistakable *Draco-ness* had become as essential to her as anything in her life.
Draco hissed sympathetically as he felt the tension in her shoulders.
"Violins aren't this tightly strung, Granger. You want to tell me what happened?"
"Since when did you become Miss Lonelyhearts?"
"What?"
"Never mind. Muggle thing. Mmm, right there." Hermione moaned as Draco's hands worked out a particularly vicious knot in her shoulders. "Damn, you're good at this."
"Of course I am," Draco replied. Hermione didn't have to see him to know that he was smirking. "I'm good at everything. Whereas you're not even good at changing the subject. I know you're upset, and I know why. Are you planning on talking to me about it, or not?"
"What makes you so sure I'm upset?" Hermione hedged.
"Hmm, let's look at the evidence. Instead of attending the party of the century, you're moping in here with me. The boy you're in love with has just announced that he's going to marry someone else. That charmed handkerchief that you're so proud of is in your hand instead of your pocket, and if you've been using it, that means you've been crying. Your neck and shoulders are so tense that I doubt you can even turn your head. And, the clincher, you have dust on your shoes, which you couldn't have gotten from any of the usual parts of the building. Filch keeps them too clean for that. You went back to the mirror, didn't you? And since you and Boy Wonder came from that direction, alone, with your handkerchief still in your hand, I'm guessing he found you there."
"If you already know the answers, why bother to ask the questions?"
"Because I want you to talk to me." This time his voice wasn't arrogant or smug. It was soft and sincere: the tone he only used when they were alone. "Come on, Granger. You'll feel better if you get it off your chest."
Hermione turned and settled herself in his arms, resting her head on his shoulder and closing her eyes. All her remaining tension drained away as she listened to the rhythm of his heartbeat.
"You know, you're my best friend, Draco. Is not that strange?"
"As strange as the thing I know not," Draco replied, and Hermione could hear the smile in his voice. 'Much Ado About Nothing' was a favorite for both of them, and they quoted it all the time, changing the lines to suit their purposes. "It were as easy for me to say that you're my best friend. And that's why you're going to tell me what's wrong." Hermione shook her head and hid her face in his shoulder. A sudden, wet warmth blossomed on his shirtfront and he knew she had started crying again. Draco, showing surprising understanding, stroked her hair softly and let her cry herself out. When she finished, she began to talk.
"It's over," she whispered.
"Of course it's over," Draco replied. "Voldemort is dead."
"That's not what I meant," Hermione sighed, snuggling closer. "I meant my friendship with Harry. It's over."
Draco was genuinely surprised to hear her answer. Along with most of the school, he had imagined that the bond that held the three Gryffindors together was unbreakable. "Why would you say that?" he asked, at last.
"Because I can't do it anymore." Hermione's voice rang with a quiet, despairing acceptance that Draco had never heard from her before. The strong willed Gryffindor had never been the type to admit that there was anything that she couldn't do. It showed how much loving Potter had broken her down, Draco thought, that she'd even be capable of thinking that anything was beyond her abilities. Meanwhile, Hermione continued. "I can't just stand by and watch while the boy I love with all my heart lives happily ever after with someone else. It was different when we were fighting Voldemort. Then, Harry needed me. I could help him, keep him safe. But Voldemort is gone now and Harry doesn't need me anymore, and it…" her voice cracked slightly, "it hurts me every single time I look at him. I can't do it anymore."
"What are you going to do?"
"Let go," she answered with a wistful smile. "Let go of all my hopes that he might learn to love me someday, and let go of the place that I held in his life. It isn't necessary anymore, anyway."
Hermione pushed herself up out of his arms and sat up on the couch. The charmed handkerchief was still in her hand, and it only took a few seconds for her to wipe away all the evidence of her most recent outburst of tears. When she spoke again, her voice was brisk and businesslike.
"I filled a role in his life, I think. I was the problem-solver, the voice of reason, the one he could count on to back him up and help him out of any situation he found himself in. But he doesn't need that anymore. The ultimate problem has been resolved and he doesn't need a bookworm to solve his puzzles for him anymore. I was also the one he could count on to believe in him and care about him no matter what happened. But he has Lavender to love him unconditionally now, and he doesn't need me for that anymore, either. I was the one who helped him with his schoolwork, but he's nearly done with school now. He used to come to me for advice on matters of the heart, but he's engaged now so he doesn't need my help with that anymore. Really, all the things that I used to do for Harry don't need doing anymore. At least, they no longer need to be done by me."
"So, what now?"
"Now I simply stop being there. Harry doesn't need me in his life anymore, so I'll take myself out of it. As busy as Harry is these days, it's possible he won't even notice. And even if he does, school will be over in a few months. Once we're finished here, I shouldn't have any trouble finding somewhere to go that will take me far away from all of this. And maybe in a few years, I won't be in love with Harry anymore and I can come back to England and try to be his friend again. Or maybe we'll discover that without the constant danger and adventure, we don't have much in common, after all. Either way, I'll be through with it."
"Do you honestly think it will be that easy?" Draco asked, gently.
"I never said it would be easy," Hermione retorted. "I just said that it was what needed to be done."
"Oh, Granger," Draco sighed. "You should have followed my example and just not fallen in love in the first place. It would have saved you from all this trouble."
Hermione managed to crack a smile at that. "Yes, but by the time we became good enough friends for you to teach me that lesson, it was already too late."
"It's never too late!" Draco protested, grinning at her, happy that he'd gotten her to smile. "Marry me, and I'll teach you everything you need to know."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "You do realize that that's the second time you've proposed to me this week, don't you? Honestly, Draco, you're worse than Ron was last year!"
Draco gave an exaggerated shudder. "Perish the thought! No, Granger, I'd never follow you around like an over-eager house elf. I leave that to red-haired twits with no concept of personal dignity. If I were in love with you, I'd find a much classier way to show it."
"Ah, but this brings us back to the point: you're *not* in love with me."
"Yes, and you're not in love with me. That's why we'd have the perfect marriage! Admit it, we'd be terrific together! With my clout and your reputation, I'd probably be Minister of Magic in less than ten years. We'd be rich, successful, powerful and universally respected. You'd have my money behind you to start up any charity or social action organizations that you wanted, and I'd have your integrity to make my image squeaky clean. We enjoy each other's company, never argue, and will probably still like each other fifty years down the road. Our children would be brilliant *and* gorgeous and within three generations, our descendants could probably be running the world. What's not to like about this picture?"
Hermione was laughing by the time he was finished. "Tempting, as always, but I'm afraid I'll have to pass. I've always rather dreamt of marrying a man that I love with all my heart."
Draco leant over and pressed a soft kiss on her forehead. "Maybe it's time you started dreaming of something else," he said gently.
"Maybe," she replied with a sad, soft smile. "Maybe."