Day 4
Day 4 by slytherinlinzi!
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter books and their characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and her various publishers as well as Warner Brothers. This is a work of fanfiction. No money is being made from this story and no infringement is intended.
A Week in the Life: Day 4
By SlytherinLinzi
Draco shivered and slowly opened his eyes. The air was muggy and hung thick in the air, but he couldn’t stop shaking. He stretched both arms above his head and stifled a yawn. He was lying in a gazebo outside, soaking wet and feeling more alone than he had in his entire life.
There were several hotel employees out on the veranda, straightening furniture and picking up limbs and branches. It must have stormed last night, he thought, remembering the way the clouds had gathered when he had seen the Traitorous Twosome out here on this same patio the night before.
After he left their room the night before, he had walked around the resort for what seemed like hours, no destination in sight, until he finally collapsed in the gazebo. He was surprised he slept through the downpour, but it was reasonable. He was spent, emotionally, physically and spiritually, thwarted by an idiot girl with cinnamon coloured eyes who had the most adorable laugh he’d ever heard-
Stop it, Draco, he chided. She is nothing; she means nothing to you.
He pushed thoughts of Hermione and the events of the previous night out of his head and walked back into the resort, searching for some clean, dry clothing and a hot meal. It was easy enough to filch some clothes from a suitcase while the bellhop wasn’t looking. He slipped into the lobby bathroom to dry off and wash his face.
He was alone in the room, from what he could tell, so he undressed quickly, rolling up the wet clothes and placing them behind the toilet in the furthest stall. Satisfied with the way his new clothing fit, he went to wash his face. As he walked back towards the counter, Draco caught his reflection in the mirror.
He looked exactly as he had the day before. The same grey eyes peered back at him; the same white-blond hair framed his pale face. But he felt different, changed. Three days ago, he had arrived on this island feeling like the entire world was ahead of him, that he could have anything, do anything, be anything. Now he felt buried and broken; instead of feeling like the rest of his life was an adventure he was just beginning, it felt like a dream that would never fully be realized. The fates had offered him a glimpse of paradise, dangling it just out of his reach, only to shatter the illusion with blinding force when he dared to reach for it.
Self-pity is for weaklings, Draco. “Well, well, well, welcome back, my conscience. Where were you three days ago when I ended up making the worst mistake of my life?” Deciding that speaking to himself was no longer an option, he splashed some water on his face and ran his fingers hurriedly through his hair. He licked his lips and willed himself not to tremble as he faintly tasted Hermione on his lips from the evening before.
He scanned the lobby as he left the bathroom; running into Hermione was something he wanted to avoid at all costs. Chad waved at him from the front desk and Draco managed a weak smile. Today was not a day for pleasantries. He walked quickly across the lobby until he reached the restaurant.
He chose a seat at the bar, closest to the wall. He glanced at the clock and realized it was nearly eleven in the morning. A pretty raven-haired waitress came over to take his order. When she greeted him, he jumped, startled.
“What can I get you?” she asked.
Draco stared at the menu. He was starving, but nothing sounded good. Finally, he said, “I’ll take an omelette, please. And a cup of coffee.”
She stared at him briefly. “What’s your name?” she asked.
“Does it matter?” he replied, a trace of annoyance in his voice.
“I suppose it doesn’t. I’ll just call you Steel. I’ve never seen someone with eyes your color.”
Draco nodded. “Listen, can you also bring me a pen and some paper?”
She smiled and walked off, leaving Draco to brood. He hadn’t wanted to contact Dumbledore again after the first owl, but he wanted to get off this island as soon as possible and forget about everything that had happened. He planned to ask for a portkey, as he still didn’t have his Apparating licence and that the distance was probably too far to attempt without splinching himself anyway. He thought of Hermione and wondered if he should mention it to her, but thought better of it. I don’t care if she ever gets out of here, he told himself.
“Hey, Steel, are you going to keep ripping up that napkin or can I clean it up?” his waitress asked with a grin, setting down a cup of coffee and several sheets of paper in front of him.
Draco looked down at the counter. He hadn’t realized he was ripping the paper napkin to shreds. He leaned back as she wiped the pieces into her palm.
“How old are you, anyway?” she asked softly, staring intently at Draco.
Draco sighed. “Look, Moana,” he said derisively, reading her name off of her name-tag, “I’m not really in the mood for small talk. Just leave me, please.”
Moana frowned slightly. She leaned forward and plunked a pen on the counter, never breaking eye contact with him. “There’s a sadness in your eyes, is all. I just wondered why someone so young looks so hopeless.”
Draco exhaled as he watched her walk away. Get it together, Malfoy, he thought, picking up the pen to compose his letter to Dumbledore. He was still writing when she came back with a hot plate and a fresh cup of coffee.
She set his food down wordlessly and Draco grabbed her by the wrist as she turned away. “I’m sorry,” he apologised, “I’m not myself today.”
“Don’t worry about it, Steel,” Moana smiled. She sat down on the stool next to him and asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”
Draco shook his head no, taking a bite of his omelette. She sat there anyway, waiting, watching him patiently. After a while, he finally said, “Have you ever become the worst part of yourself? The part that you thought would always lay dormant inside of you? The part of yourself where the nightmares come from?”
Moana looked at him, puzzled.
“I became,” he continued, “what I’ve always despised, what I’ve always loathed. What I’ve always sworn to myself that I’d never become.”
Draco put his fork down and turned to Moana, who was looking down. “My father always told me that love doesn’t exist. That a relationship was nothing more than an allegiance… two parties joining forces for a common goal. A strategic business move, if you will.
“I fell in love on this island, at least I thought I did. I thought I had proven him wrong. But I was the one who was wrong. Love doesn’t exist. He was right. And now I’m just like him. I was cold and ruthless and cruel. Last night, I was everything I’ve ever hated about him. But I had to do it. I couldn’t let her see how hurt I was.”
Moana wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “How can you say that? That love doesn’t exist?” she asked.
Draco shrugged. “Because it’s not supposed to hurt. This can’t be love, because it hurts too much.”
The dark-haired waitress sighed. “You don’t know anything, do you? Listen, when you think about her, does your stomach drop?”
Draco nodded.
“And when you think about what your future holds if she’s not in it, does it petrify you? Does the thought of going even a day without seeing her smile cause you to panic?”
Draco nodded.
“Her touch, her voice, her eyes… do they heal you more than any medicine you’ve ever tried?”
Draco nodded again.
“Then it’s love, Steel. It’s love. And if you let whatever happened stand in the way, then you deserve your misery.”
Draco flinched slightly. “It’s not that simp--”
“It is that simple, Steel. Believe me.” She patted his hand and smiled again. “I’ve got to get back to my tables. The meal’s on the house.”
Draco sat in silence for a moment, his heart racing nearly as fast as his mind.
***
“To a fresh start.”
“A fresh start!” Harry agreed, tipping the coconut half to his lips. He laughed as the milk from Hermione’s half of the coconut dribbled down her chin.
The two friends were sitting on an overhang near the resort, enjoying a small picnic. Not only was Harry a tourist; he completely looked like one. His “borrowed” clothes consisted of a horrid Hawaiian print shirt and baggy shorts, his legs pale and pasty. Hermione, on the other hand, wore a green bikini and a white sarong.
The hike up to the overhang had been steep, but it had been worth it to see all the local vegetation. She had picked several lilies, and had even put one in her hair. The view was breathtaking. The resort was to their left, but aside from that, they could see nothing but ocean, the sapphire blue water sparkling in the warm sunlight.
After toasting each other, Hermione sat down in the shade next to Harry. “How did you and Pansy end up here, Harry?” she asked. “Same as us?”
Harry nodded, feasting on a slice of pineapple. “Yes, but thankfully, one of the Hogwarts owls was here with a letter from Dumbledore, and I wrote for a portkey straight away. I’m glad he doesn’t expect us until he end of the week, though. With exams over and all, it’s nice to have a bit of a vacation, even if we did end up here by accident.”
Hermione nodded. “That’s what I thought at first. Now I just want to go home.”
“There’s something you’re not telling me, Hermione. What’s going on?”
“Last night… when I told you about us…about Draco and me, it was a lie. I lied to you, Harry.”
Harry’s jaw dropped in surprise. “But Hermione,” he argued, “last night you seemed so sincere…so happy. Why would you lie to me?”
Hermione shrugged, suddenly much more interested in the knot that held her sarong together than in the conversation with her best friend. Harry put down his pineapple and put his hand under her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes.
“You can tell me, Hermione. You’re my best friend; you can tell me anything.”
Hermione sniffled and stood up, walking over toward the edge of the cliff.
“There’s nothing to tell. I’m sorry.” Hermione closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of the surf.
Harry rolled his eyes. “Hermione,” he sighed, “you can’t lie to me. Come on, what happened?”
“He let me love him,” she whispered.
Harry gazed intently at her, waiting for more.
“He let me love him,” she repeated, “but he didn’t trust me. Oh, Harry, the past three days were perfect. It was amazing. I felt alive, whole… I felt so complete. Like I was doing exactly what I was meant to be doing.”
Hermione leaned against a small tree and wiped her eyes with the hem of her sarong. “I went to go to the boutique last night before I ran into you. He saw us talking and of course, he assumed the worst. He thought we were plotting against him.” She managed a laugh before she continued. “Isn’t that ridiculous? The last thing I planned on happening was falling in love with that dolt, that ignorant, stupid dolt, but God, Harry, he kisses so well, and he told me I was beautiful, and he made me feel like I was the most important woman in the whole world. And it’s over now. He said he didn’t love me, that he hadn’t this entire time.”
Harry watched as his best friend sobbed. She covered her face with her hands and took several calming breaths as she paced back and forth.
“Do you believe him?” Harry asked finally.
She nodded, “Of course! And even if he was lying, he didn’t love me. He doesn’t know who I am. I would never do that to someone…lead them on like that.”
“Typical Malfoy,” Harry huffed. “Look, I just want you to be happy, but if you want my opinion, you’re better off without him. Let’s face facts: how are you ever going to be able to trust his word? Top that off with the fact that he’s a slimy git, and I think your problem is solved.”
Hermione smiled at her friend. She walked back over to the edge of the cliff and peered down at the peaceful water. “Thanks, Harry,” she said sarcastically, “you’ve always had a way of putting things in perspective.”
Harry smiled and took a mango out of the picnic basket. “No problem,” he mumbled as he bit into the fruit.
Hermione turned to look at him. “You’re right, you know,” she said in a soft whisper.
“About being better off without him?”
“No, about him being a slimy git. I don’t know what I’m going to do, Harry. I don’t want to give up on him just yet. I think I really love him.”
“Well, maybe you can talk to him about it tonight. We need to tell him about the portkey anyway.”
“Honestly, Harry, didn’t anyone ever tell you not to talk with your mouth full? You’re worse than Ron is! Speaking of portkeys, where is it?”
“Pansy’s got it.”
“Can she be trusted?” Hermione asked.
“Yes, and it’s on a timer anyway, she can’t use it until the end of the week. And Dumbledore would know something was wrong if she came back and we didn’t.”
Hermione sighed. “Alright. So we’ll find Draco tonight and tell him.”
Harry stretched his legs out and said, “Good. Now that that’s settled, do you think you could move out of the way? You’re in my sun.”
Hermione snorted. She was feeling much better after her talk with Harry. She loved Draco, that much she knew. A sliver of optimism bloomed inside of her. Hermione wanted nothing more than to be back in Draco’s arms. Just let me love you again, she thought. She closed her eyes and wondered what Draco was doing. Please, just let me love you.
“Do you suppose it’s safe to jump from here?” she asked.
“Yes, I think so. We’re not that high up. Going for a swim?” Harry grinned at her.
“Yes, I think I just might.”
Harry lay back down, letting the sun beat down on him. Hermione stood at the edge and looked down. It wasn’t that far, her eyes told her. Her mind told her something different. With her heart racing, Hermione took several breaths.
“To a fresh start,” she whispered.
And then she jumped.
***
Draco never liked heat much, but the thought of spending another moment in that resort disgusted him. Instead, he was sitting on the beach with his toes in the sand, idly fingering a seashell he picked up along the way.
After his talk with Moana, Draco had looked for Pansy for a while before the need for some fresh air overtook him. Once he finally found what he recognized as a Hogwarts owl, he sent his letter off and made his way to the beach, deciding it was as good a place as any for some solitude and self-reflection. Moana really got to him. “What does she know,” he muttered, chucking the seashell into the ocean.
He knew that part of what Moana said was true. He did deserve this misery. But not because he let something stand in the way of his feelings for Hermione. He deserved this misery because he was stupid enough to fall for it to begin with. He let his mind wander and imagined the sort of conversations she and Potter must have had together, plotting and planning, aiming to trap him in this tangled spider web. He deserved this misery because he actually let himself believe that this was love; that he found where he belonged, that he was home when he was with her. So naïve, Draco, he told himself.
Two pelicans soared high in the sky and Draco looked upward to watch them. He smiled for a second, placing his hand over his brow to block some of the sunlight. That’s when he saw her, and the smile left his face quickly.
It should be a crime for someone to look that good, Draco thought, looking up at Hermione on the cliff. She was standing by herself, and a breeze blew her hair so that it billowed with the wind. Her hands covered her face and Draco knew at once that she was crying. But why?
He wanted to tear his eyes away from her. He wanted to go back to the resort where he could find something -anything- to take his mind off her. Instead, he was frozen, spellbound, unable to move. He wondered why she was crying all by herself up there.
She paced back and forth. Draco squinted and he thought he could see her lips moving. Good to know I’m not the only one talking to myself today, he said to himself. Slowly, a part of him began to wonder if she was crying because she missed him… if her tears were because he had hurt her too badly. He didn’t dare believe it. He stifled that feeling and reminded himself that Hermione was a slice of heaven he would always be forbidden to have. He heaved an angry sigh and forced himself to look away. “This is ridiculous,” he complained.
“I love you, Hermione,” he murmured, tracing her initials in the sand, “but I can’t let you hurt me again.” He glanced back up at her and his heart dropped. He scrambled to his feet and gaped up at her, watching her creep closer and closer to the edge. Time felt frozen; he couldn’t move fast enough. She was going to jump, he realised with increasing alarm.
His heart stopped beating as she jumped and he found himself running faster than he’d ever ran before. She hit the water hard and Draco leaped into the ocean to find her.
“Hermione!!” he shouted as he treaded water, searching for her. Finally, she came to the surface, shaking the water out of her ears.
“Merlin, Hermione, are you okay? Is anything broken?” Draco swam to her and wrapped his arms around her. “I’m here,” he whispered. She cast him an angry glare and wriggled out of his arms.
“What are you doing here?” she said heatedly.
“Why were you trying to kill yourself?” he retorted.
Hermione rolled her eyes. “What makes you think that?” They swam until they were finally closer to the shore, the waves lapping gently against their legs as they stood.
“I saw you standing up there crying, and then you jumped off a cliff. Sounds like suicide to me,” he panted, trying to catch his breath.
Hermione stared at him. “You don’t know anything, Draco.”
Draco sneered. Why is everyone saying that to me today? he thought.
“Besides,” Hermione continued as she wrung water out of her hair, “what happened to not wanting to associate yourself with a dirty little mudblood like me?”
Draco scoffed. “Right, so next time you feel like attempting suicide, I should just stand by and watch?”
“I was NOT trying to kill myself! I was swimming!” she shouted.
Draco looked over her shoulder at the dark haired boy who just landed in the water, almost exactly in the same spot as Hermione did.
“Right,” Draco muttered, “I can see exactly what you were doing. My mistake.”
Hermione spun around to see Harry swimming towards them. She moaned at the awful timing of it. When she turned back around, Draco was walking away.
“Why do you always walk away?” she yelled.
He turned to face her, his expression stony and unreadable.
“Have you always been such a coward, Draco?” Hermione’s eyes were dark and stormy and she was staring at him with such intensity, even Harry had to look away.
Yes, Draco wanted to scream. Yes, I have always been such a coward. He collected his wits and seethed, “Have you always been such a liar?”
“How have I lied?” The look on Hermione’s face let Draco know that she was beyond hurt. “I’ve never lied about anything to you, you stubborn ass.” She scowled and continued. “And perhaps you should take a look at yourself, Draco. I’ve never lied. And you can’t even manage to be honest to yourself.”
Draco felt powerless and defeated, two feelings he loathed. A large wave crested, causing the tide to increase, and all Draco could focus on was the way the water lapped at his knees.
“Why is Potter here, then, if it’s not some big joke?”
“Don’t change the subject. They’re here for the same reason we are. Why can’t you just admit that you ran over here to save me because you still have feelings for me? Be honest with yourself: you came over here because you love me.”
“HARRY!!!” a voice called. The three of them turned their heads to see who was shouting. Pansy was running across the beach, wailing at the top of her lungs.
“Harry, I’m so sorry,” she cried as she held out her hands, “I don’t know what happened! I dropped it.”
In the palm of her hands were several shards of crystal.
“Oh no!” Harry cried. “Pansy, how could you? What happened?”
Draco and Hermione looked at each other briefly.
“What’s going on?” Draco asked cautiously.
“The portkey,” Harry answered. “It’s shattered.”
“You had a portkey?” Draco hated being the last to know.
“Yes, Draco. That was the good news I was trying to tell you last night before you turned against me. I was trying to tell you that we could go home.” Hermione’s tone was icy.
To say that Draco overreacted the previous night was a gross understatement. Doubt and guilt flooded Draco and he found it difficult to look at Hermione. “I’ve got to get out of here,” Draco said quietly.
Harry, Hermione, and Pansy all watched in silence until they could no longer see Draco. “What are we going to do now?” Harry asked.
Hermione didn’t know, and she didn’t particularly care. Whether Draco had admitted it or not, he loved her. She knew he did. Though her heart was beating wildly and she didn’t know where Draco was going, she knew things would work out in the end. They had to. She loved him and he loved her, and things felt right once again.
***
Draco sat with his head in his hands outside the same restaurant where he had eaten that morning. He tapped his foot impatiently and tried not to glance at his watch every five seconds. He had been waiting for Moana for nearly an hour. He felt foolish; he didn’t know her work schedule, or if she was even still there, but he was lonely and upset and needed some advice.
He was nearly napping when Moana came into the lobby. “Hey, Steel,” she said, whipping her long black hair off her shoulder, “what are you doing here?”
“I’m sorry,” Draco said awkwardly, “I know this must be weird for you…but… is there any way we can go somewhere and talk? I’m losing my mind.”
“Of course,” she grinned, “I knew there was something behind those sad steel eyes. Come on. Whatever it is will get worked out.” She put her arm around him and rubbed his back slightly. Draco wasn’t a big fan of public affection from strangers, but he let Moana keep her arm around him because he appreciated her taking her own free time to help him out.
They walked in silence, and Draco was grateful for it. It was hard enough asking for her help. They left the lobby, and Draco could only assume they were going to her quarters or somewhere private.
What he didn’t see was a girl emerging from a corner across the lobby. Hermione’s breath caught in her throat and she blinked back tears. She didn’t know who the exotic woman was, but even she wasn’t blind; she knew exactly what it meant for her arm to be around Draco.
I’m such a fool, she thought. She cried all the way back to her room. When she burst into the room, Harry looked up from the television, startled.
“So what did he say?” he asked eagerly. “Are things all right between you?”
“I couldn’t find him,” she said. “Listen, I’m going to bed. We can figure out the portkey mess in the morning.”
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter books and their characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and her various publishers as well as Warner Brothers. This is a work of fanfiction. No money is being made from this story and no infringement is intended.
A Week in the Life: Day 4
By SlytherinLinzi
Draco shivered and slowly opened his eyes. The air was muggy and hung thick in the air, but he couldn’t stop shaking. He stretched both arms above his head and stifled a yawn. He was lying in a gazebo outside, soaking wet and feeling more alone than he had in his entire life.
There were several hotel employees out on the veranda, straightening furniture and picking up limbs and branches. It must have stormed last night, he thought, remembering the way the clouds had gathered when he had seen the Traitorous Twosome out here on this same patio the night before.
After he left their room the night before, he had walked around the resort for what seemed like hours, no destination in sight, until he finally collapsed in the gazebo. He was surprised he slept through the downpour, but it was reasonable. He was spent, emotionally, physically and spiritually, thwarted by an idiot girl with cinnamon coloured eyes who had the most adorable laugh he’d ever heard-
Stop it, Draco, he chided. She is nothing; she means nothing to you.
He pushed thoughts of Hermione and the events of the previous night out of his head and walked back into the resort, searching for some clean, dry clothing and a hot meal. It was easy enough to filch some clothes from a suitcase while the bellhop wasn’t looking. He slipped into the lobby bathroom to dry off and wash his face.
He was alone in the room, from what he could tell, so he undressed quickly, rolling up the wet clothes and placing them behind the toilet in the furthest stall. Satisfied with the way his new clothing fit, he went to wash his face. As he walked back towards the counter, Draco caught his reflection in the mirror.
He looked exactly as he had the day before. The same grey eyes peered back at him; the same white-blond hair framed his pale face. But he felt different, changed. Three days ago, he had arrived on this island feeling like the entire world was ahead of him, that he could have anything, do anything, be anything. Now he felt buried and broken; instead of feeling like the rest of his life was an adventure he was just beginning, it felt like a dream that would never fully be realized. The fates had offered him a glimpse of paradise, dangling it just out of his reach, only to shatter the illusion with blinding force when he dared to reach for it.
Self-pity is for weaklings, Draco. “Well, well, well, welcome back, my conscience. Where were you three days ago when I ended up making the worst mistake of my life?” Deciding that speaking to himself was no longer an option, he splashed some water on his face and ran his fingers hurriedly through his hair. He licked his lips and willed himself not to tremble as he faintly tasted Hermione on his lips from the evening before.
He scanned the lobby as he left the bathroom; running into Hermione was something he wanted to avoid at all costs. Chad waved at him from the front desk and Draco managed a weak smile. Today was not a day for pleasantries. He walked quickly across the lobby until he reached the restaurant.
He chose a seat at the bar, closest to the wall. He glanced at the clock and realized it was nearly eleven in the morning. A pretty raven-haired waitress came over to take his order. When she greeted him, he jumped, startled.
“What can I get you?” she asked.
Draco stared at the menu. He was starving, but nothing sounded good. Finally, he said, “I’ll take an omelette, please. And a cup of coffee.”
She stared at him briefly. “What’s your name?” she asked.
“Does it matter?” he replied, a trace of annoyance in his voice.
“I suppose it doesn’t. I’ll just call you Steel. I’ve never seen someone with eyes your color.”
Draco nodded. “Listen, can you also bring me a pen and some paper?”
She smiled and walked off, leaving Draco to brood. He hadn’t wanted to contact Dumbledore again after the first owl, but he wanted to get off this island as soon as possible and forget about everything that had happened. He planned to ask for a portkey, as he still didn’t have his Apparating licence and that the distance was probably too far to attempt without splinching himself anyway. He thought of Hermione and wondered if he should mention it to her, but thought better of it. I don’t care if she ever gets out of here, he told himself.
“Hey, Steel, are you going to keep ripping up that napkin or can I clean it up?” his waitress asked with a grin, setting down a cup of coffee and several sheets of paper in front of him.
Draco looked down at the counter. He hadn’t realized he was ripping the paper napkin to shreds. He leaned back as she wiped the pieces into her palm.
“How old are you, anyway?” she asked softly, staring intently at Draco.
Draco sighed. “Look, Moana,” he said derisively, reading her name off of her name-tag, “I’m not really in the mood for small talk. Just leave me, please.”
Moana frowned slightly. She leaned forward and plunked a pen on the counter, never breaking eye contact with him. “There’s a sadness in your eyes, is all. I just wondered why someone so young looks so hopeless.”
Draco exhaled as he watched her walk away. Get it together, Malfoy, he thought, picking up the pen to compose his letter to Dumbledore. He was still writing when she came back with a hot plate and a fresh cup of coffee.
She set his food down wordlessly and Draco grabbed her by the wrist as she turned away. “I’m sorry,” he apologised, “I’m not myself today.”
“Don’t worry about it, Steel,” Moana smiled. She sat down on the stool next to him and asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”
Draco shook his head no, taking a bite of his omelette. She sat there anyway, waiting, watching him patiently. After a while, he finally said, “Have you ever become the worst part of yourself? The part that you thought would always lay dormant inside of you? The part of yourself where the nightmares come from?”
Moana looked at him, puzzled.
“I became,” he continued, “what I’ve always despised, what I’ve always loathed. What I’ve always sworn to myself that I’d never become.”
Draco put his fork down and turned to Moana, who was looking down. “My father always told me that love doesn’t exist. That a relationship was nothing more than an allegiance… two parties joining forces for a common goal. A strategic business move, if you will.
“I fell in love on this island, at least I thought I did. I thought I had proven him wrong. But I was the one who was wrong. Love doesn’t exist. He was right. And now I’m just like him. I was cold and ruthless and cruel. Last night, I was everything I’ve ever hated about him. But I had to do it. I couldn’t let her see how hurt I was.”
Moana wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “How can you say that? That love doesn’t exist?” she asked.
Draco shrugged. “Because it’s not supposed to hurt. This can’t be love, because it hurts too much.”
The dark-haired waitress sighed. “You don’t know anything, do you? Listen, when you think about her, does your stomach drop?”
Draco nodded.
“And when you think about what your future holds if she’s not in it, does it petrify you? Does the thought of going even a day without seeing her smile cause you to panic?”
Draco nodded.
“Her touch, her voice, her eyes… do they heal you more than any medicine you’ve ever tried?”
Draco nodded again.
“Then it’s love, Steel. It’s love. And if you let whatever happened stand in the way, then you deserve your misery.”
Draco flinched slightly. “It’s not that simp--”
“It is that simple, Steel. Believe me.” She patted his hand and smiled again. “I’ve got to get back to my tables. The meal’s on the house.”
Draco sat in silence for a moment, his heart racing nearly as fast as his mind.
***
“To a fresh start.”
“A fresh start!” Harry agreed, tipping the coconut half to his lips. He laughed as the milk from Hermione’s half of the coconut dribbled down her chin.
The two friends were sitting on an overhang near the resort, enjoying a small picnic. Not only was Harry a tourist; he completely looked like one. His “borrowed” clothes consisted of a horrid Hawaiian print shirt and baggy shorts, his legs pale and pasty. Hermione, on the other hand, wore a green bikini and a white sarong.
The hike up to the overhang had been steep, but it had been worth it to see all the local vegetation. She had picked several lilies, and had even put one in her hair. The view was breathtaking. The resort was to their left, but aside from that, they could see nothing but ocean, the sapphire blue water sparkling in the warm sunlight.
After toasting each other, Hermione sat down in the shade next to Harry. “How did you and Pansy end up here, Harry?” she asked. “Same as us?”
Harry nodded, feasting on a slice of pineapple. “Yes, but thankfully, one of the Hogwarts owls was here with a letter from Dumbledore, and I wrote for a portkey straight away. I’m glad he doesn’t expect us until he end of the week, though. With exams over and all, it’s nice to have a bit of a vacation, even if we did end up here by accident.”
Hermione nodded. “That’s what I thought at first. Now I just want to go home.”
“There’s something you’re not telling me, Hermione. What’s going on?”
“Last night… when I told you about us…about Draco and me, it was a lie. I lied to you, Harry.”
Harry’s jaw dropped in surprise. “But Hermione,” he argued, “last night you seemed so sincere…so happy. Why would you lie to me?”
Hermione shrugged, suddenly much more interested in the knot that held her sarong together than in the conversation with her best friend. Harry put down his pineapple and put his hand under her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes.
“You can tell me, Hermione. You’re my best friend; you can tell me anything.”
Hermione sniffled and stood up, walking over toward the edge of the cliff.
“There’s nothing to tell. I’m sorry.” Hermione closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of the surf.
Harry rolled his eyes. “Hermione,” he sighed, “you can’t lie to me. Come on, what happened?”
“He let me love him,” she whispered.
Harry gazed intently at her, waiting for more.
“He let me love him,” she repeated, “but he didn’t trust me. Oh, Harry, the past three days were perfect. It was amazing. I felt alive, whole… I felt so complete. Like I was doing exactly what I was meant to be doing.”
Hermione leaned against a small tree and wiped her eyes with the hem of her sarong. “I went to go to the boutique last night before I ran into you. He saw us talking and of course, he assumed the worst. He thought we were plotting against him.” She managed a laugh before she continued. “Isn’t that ridiculous? The last thing I planned on happening was falling in love with that dolt, that ignorant, stupid dolt, but God, Harry, he kisses so well, and he told me I was beautiful, and he made me feel like I was the most important woman in the whole world. And it’s over now. He said he didn’t love me, that he hadn’t this entire time.”
Harry watched as his best friend sobbed. She covered her face with her hands and took several calming breaths as she paced back and forth.
“Do you believe him?” Harry asked finally.
She nodded, “Of course! And even if he was lying, he didn’t love me. He doesn’t know who I am. I would never do that to someone…lead them on like that.”
“Typical Malfoy,” Harry huffed. “Look, I just want you to be happy, but if you want my opinion, you’re better off without him. Let’s face facts: how are you ever going to be able to trust his word? Top that off with the fact that he’s a slimy git, and I think your problem is solved.”
Hermione smiled at her friend. She walked back over to the edge of the cliff and peered down at the peaceful water. “Thanks, Harry,” she said sarcastically, “you’ve always had a way of putting things in perspective.”
Harry smiled and took a mango out of the picnic basket. “No problem,” he mumbled as he bit into the fruit.
Hermione turned to look at him. “You’re right, you know,” she said in a soft whisper.
“About being better off without him?”
“No, about him being a slimy git. I don’t know what I’m going to do, Harry. I don’t want to give up on him just yet. I think I really love him.”
“Well, maybe you can talk to him about it tonight. We need to tell him about the portkey anyway.”
“Honestly, Harry, didn’t anyone ever tell you not to talk with your mouth full? You’re worse than Ron is! Speaking of portkeys, where is it?”
“Pansy’s got it.”
“Can she be trusted?” Hermione asked.
“Yes, and it’s on a timer anyway, she can’t use it until the end of the week. And Dumbledore would know something was wrong if she came back and we didn’t.”
Hermione sighed. “Alright. So we’ll find Draco tonight and tell him.”
Harry stretched his legs out and said, “Good. Now that that’s settled, do you think you could move out of the way? You’re in my sun.”
Hermione snorted. She was feeling much better after her talk with Harry. She loved Draco, that much she knew. A sliver of optimism bloomed inside of her. Hermione wanted nothing more than to be back in Draco’s arms. Just let me love you again, she thought. She closed her eyes and wondered what Draco was doing. Please, just let me love you.
“Do you suppose it’s safe to jump from here?” she asked.
“Yes, I think so. We’re not that high up. Going for a swim?” Harry grinned at her.
“Yes, I think I just might.”
Harry lay back down, letting the sun beat down on him. Hermione stood at the edge and looked down. It wasn’t that far, her eyes told her. Her mind told her something different. With her heart racing, Hermione took several breaths.
“To a fresh start,” she whispered.
And then she jumped.
***
Draco never liked heat much, but the thought of spending another moment in that resort disgusted him. Instead, he was sitting on the beach with his toes in the sand, idly fingering a seashell he picked up along the way.
After his talk with Moana, Draco had looked for Pansy for a while before the need for some fresh air overtook him. Once he finally found what he recognized as a Hogwarts owl, he sent his letter off and made his way to the beach, deciding it was as good a place as any for some solitude and self-reflection. Moana really got to him. “What does she know,” he muttered, chucking the seashell into the ocean.
He knew that part of what Moana said was true. He did deserve this misery. But not because he let something stand in the way of his feelings for Hermione. He deserved this misery because he was stupid enough to fall for it to begin with. He let his mind wander and imagined the sort of conversations she and Potter must have had together, plotting and planning, aiming to trap him in this tangled spider web. He deserved this misery because he actually let himself believe that this was love; that he found where he belonged, that he was home when he was with her. So naïve, Draco, he told himself.
Two pelicans soared high in the sky and Draco looked upward to watch them. He smiled for a second, placing his hand over his brow to block some of the sunlight. That’s when he saw her, and the smile left his face quickly.
It should be a crime for someone to look that good, Draco thought, looking up at Hermione on the cliff. She was standing by herself, and a breeze blew her hair so that it billowed with the wind. Her hands covered her face and Draco knew at once that she was crying. But why?
He wanted to tear his eyes away from her. He wanted to go back to the resort where he could find something -anything- to take his mind off her. Instead, he was frozen, spellbound, unable to move. He wondered why she was crying all by herself up there.
She paced back and forth. Draco squinted and he thought he could see her lips moving. Good to know I’m not the only one talking to myself today, he said to himself. Slowly, a part of him began to wonder if she was crying because she missed him… if her tears were because he had hurt her too badly. He didn’t dare believe it. He stifled that feeling and reminded himself that Hermione was a slice of heaven he would always be forbidden to have. He heaved an angry sigh and forced himself to look away. “This is ridiculous,” he complained.
“I love you, Hermione,” he murmured, tracing her initials in the sand, “but I can’t let you hurt me again.” He glanced back up at her and his heart dropped. He scrambled to his feet and gaped up at her, watching her creep closer and closer to the edge. Time felt frozen; he couldn’t move fast enough. She was going to jump, he realised with increasing alarm.
His heart stopped beating as she jumped and he found himself running faster than he’d ever ran before. She hit the water hard and Draco leaped into the ocean to find her.
“Hermione!!” he shouted as he treaded water, searching for her. Finally, she came to the surface, shaking the water out of her ears.
“Merlin, Hermione, are you okay? Is anything broken?” Draco swam to her and wrapped his arms around her. “I’m here,” he whispered. She cast him an angry glare and wriggled out of his arms.
“What are you doing here?” she said heatedly.
“Why were you trying to kill yourself?” he retorted.
Hermione rolled her eyes. “What makes you think that?” They swam until they were finally closer to the shore, the waves lapping gently against their legs as they stood.
“I saw you standing up there crying, and then you jumped off a cliff. Sounds like suicide to me,” he panted, trying to catch his breath.
Hermione stared at him. “You don’t know anything, Draco.”
Draco sneered. Why is everyone saying that to me today? he thought.
“Besides,” Hermione continued as she wrung water out of her hair, “what happened to not wanting to associate yourself with a dirty little mudblood like me?”
Draco scoffed. “Right, so next time you feel like attempting suicide, I should just stand by and watch?”
“I was NOT trying to kill myself! I was swimming!” she shouted.
Draco looked over her shoulder at the dark haired boy who just landed in the water, almost exactly in the same spot as Hermione did.
“Right,” Draco muttered, “I can see exactly what you were doing. My mistake.”
Hermione spun around to see Harry swimming towards them. She moaned at the awful timing of it. When she turned back around, Draco was walking away.
“Why do you always walk away?” she yelled.
He turned to face her, his expression stony and unreadable.
“Have you always been such a coward, Draco?” Hermione’s eyes were dark and stormy and she was staring at him with such intensity, even Harry had to look away.
Yes, Draco wanted to scream. Yes, I have always been such a coward. He collected his wits and seethed, “Have you always been such a liar?”
“How have I lied?” The look on Hermione’s face let Draco know that she was beyond hurt. “I’ve never lied about anything to you, you stubborn ass.” She scowled and continued. “And perhaps you should take a look at yourself, Draco. I’ve never lied. And you can’t even manage to be honest to yourself.”
Draco felt powerless and defeated, two feelings he loathed. A large wave crested, causing the tide to increase, and all Draco could focus on was the way the water lapped at his knees.
“Why is Potter here, then, if it’s not some big joke?”
“Don’t change the subject. They’re here for the same reason we are. Why can’t you just admit that you ran over here to save me because you still have feelings for me? Be honest with yourself: you came over here because you love me.”
“HARRY!!!” a voice called. The three of them turned their heads to see who was shouting. Pansy was running across the beach, wailing at the top of her lungs.
“Harry, I’m so sorry,” she cried as she held out her hands, “I don’t know what happened! I dropped it.”
In the palm of her hands were several shards of crystal.
“Oh no!” Harry cried. “Pansy, how could you? What happened?”
Draco and Hermione looked at each other briefly.
“What’s going on?” Draco asked cautiously.
“The portkey,” Harry answered. “It’s shattered.”
“You had a portkey?” Draco hated being the last to know.
“Yes, Draco. That was the good news I was trying to tell you last night before you turned against me. I was trying to tell you that we could go home.” Hermione’s tone was icy.
To say that Draco overreacted the previous night was a gross understatement. Doubt and guilt flooded Draco and he found it difficult to look at Hermione. “I’ve got to get out of here,” Draco said quietly.
Harry, Hermione, and Pansy all watched in silence until they could no longer see Draco. “What are we going to do now?” Harry asked.
Hermione didn’t know, and she didn’t particularly care. Whether Draco had admitted it or not, he loved her. She knew he did. Though her heart was beating wildly and she didn’t know where Draco was going, she knew things would work out in the end. They had to. She loved him and he loved her, and things felt right once again.
***
Draco sat with his head in his hands outside the same restaurant where he had eaten that morning. He tapped his foot impatiently and tried not to glance at his watch every five seconds. He had been waiting for Moana for nearly an hour. He felt foolish; he didn’t know her work schedule, or if she was even still there, but he was lonely and upset and needed some advice.
He was nearly napping when Moana came into the lobby. “Hey, Steel,” she said, whipping her long black hair off her shoulder, “what are you doing here?”
“I’m sorry,” Draco said awkwardly, “I know this must be weird for you…but… is there any way we can go somewhere and talk? I’m losing my mind.”
“Of course,” she grinned, “I knew there was something behind those sad steel eyes. Come on. Whatever it is will get worked out.” She put her arm around him and rubbed his back slightly. Draco wasn’t a big fan of public affection from strangers, but he let Moana keep her arm around him because he appreciated her taking her own free time to help him out.
They walked in silence, and Draco was grateful for it. It was hard enough asking for her help. They left the lobby, and Draco could only assume they were going to her quarters or somewhere private.
What he didn’t see was a girl emerging from a corner across the lobby. Hermione’s breath caught in her throat and she blinked back tears. She didn’t know who the exotic woman was, but even she wasn’t blind; she knew exactly what it meant for her arm to be around Draco.
I’m such a fool, she thought. She cried all the way back to her room. When she burst into the room, Harry looked up from the television, startled.
“So what did he say?” he asked eagerly. “Are things all right between you?”
“I couldn’t find him,” she said. “Listen, I’m going to bed. We can figure out the portkey mess in the morning.”