Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

After their gruesome discovery, Hermione left Malfoy's and went back home. She was in for a long week at the House-Elves Employment Agency, and she needed to get some rest. Malfoy was planning to spend his entire Monday morning at the library, and then she would join him after work to research Death Faeries or anything else they thought made sense. They planned to spend their days that way until they figured out what to do next.

When she walked in her door, she felt a slight jolt of surprise at the relief she felt seeing the place so clean and smelling so fresh. None of Ron's dirty socks, none of his empty firewhisky bottles, and no gripey bastard slung across her couch. She hadn't really wanted to lose her marriage, but she had to admit that it was nice to come home to a place that didn't cause her insides to involuntarily tense for battle.

Of course it was still light out, though, so she wasn't counting her chickens. The emptiness in the pit of her stomach was probably hovering nearby, waiting for the night to begin. She placed her handbag neatly on the secretary in the entryway, and she set her books on the coffee table.

Trodding into the kitchen, Hermione thought about what to make for dinner. Nothing sounded good, but she knew she had to make herself eat something. She opened the pantry, looked, walked to the fridge, looked, walked to the pantry, looked, walked to the fridge, looked. After repeating this about seven times, she decided to eat a bowl of cereal and be done with it.

She spent the next hour soaking in the bathtub. She had to unwind and sort her thoughts so she could function like a human being the next day. She was getting divorced, and the ache in her chest was something that she knew would take a long while to heal. Although she knew she would eventually be happier than she'd been over the last year, she just wished things could be different. Why did Ron have to have the worst possible response to everything? How had she failed to help him through? Had he honestly never loved her at all?

Aside from Ron, this situation with Narcissa was an enormous weight on her shoulders as well. Yes, the Malfoys had hated every cell in her body at one time, but Malfoy really did seem a bit different this weekend, didn't he? She felt like a complete fool believing in him so easily, and she knew what Harry would say, but her intuition told her to go with it. It absolutely had nothing to do with earning some extra Galleons, and it sure as hell had nothing to do with the sudden realization that Malfoy's eyes were like the silvery gray of twilight clouds. Nothing whatsoever.

She immediately pushed down the thought of adding her confused feelings about Malfoy to her list of stressors and focused on the two which she could admit to. She closed her eyes, breathed the scent of lavender deep into her lungs, and imagined the tenseness oozing slowly out of her pores. With only the light of a few flickering candles, she nearly fell asleep after several minutes of true peace.

She practically jumped out of her skin when she heard a pounding on her front door. She scrambled up in her tub, grabbed her wand, and blew out the candles. "Lumos!" Once she magicked her overhead light on, she ran into her closet to grab her robe, all the while hearing the impatient pounding in her living room growing louder.

"Coming!" she yelled, running out of her room and into her living room. She wasn't completely barking, so she hurried first to the window to see who was disturbing her this late. She hoped to the gods it wasn't Ron.

Okay, this was worse. It was Malfoy! And she was standing here in her tattered robe with dripping hair and no makeup! What the hell was he doing here again when they were meeting in less than twenty-four hours?!

He pounded again, not knowing she was right there, and she decided there wasn't much else to do but open the door. Besides, why the hell did she care if he saw her like this? It wasn't much worse than this morning anyway.

XXXXX

Draco was on Granger's stoop again, trying to tell himself that he had good reason to be here. After his meeting, he had gone home to have something to eat, only to pick restlessly at whatever the hell it was that Liddy had made. For all he knew, his house-elf had made his favorite meal, and he had no recollection of it. His mind was literally racing with the conversation between him and Charles, and he inexplicably longed to just be back with Granger.

He had started to pace around the kitchen, fearing that his mother's disappearance had already caused the onset of madness. Maybe he wanted Granger with him because she was the only person he could trust right now, or maybe he was so scared for his mother that he wanted to get straight back to work at every possible opportunity. Right. That sounded good.

After trying to read, taking another shower, pacing the living room for fifteen minutes, and trying unsuccessfully to eat again, he snapped an audible "fuck it" and Apparated.

While pounding on Granger's door the third time, it occurred to him that she might not even be home, or worse, she could already be asleep. Besides, what was he supposed to say? I need you, Granger? That would go over well. They were supposed to meet after she worked tomorrow, so he had no reason to be standing here.

He was about to turn on his heel when the door was flung open to reveal a dark living room behind a sopping wet Hermione. Oh, shit. He had interrupted her shower, hadn't he?

Wait a minute. Oh. Shit. She was standing there in a light blue, soft terry cloth robe which came about halfway down her thighs. Her legs were fucking perfect. And her little bare feet. And her hair was all over the place, which was just flat-out sexy.

Merlin, what the fuck is wrong with me today? Draco realized he had been standing there gaping for about twenty seconds before he finally mumbled something like, "Hi. I just...I can come back tomorrow. I just thought of some new thoughts." Well, that sounded brilliant.

"Oh, um... okay. Come on in."

"No, really, I don't know what I was thinking. I guess I was just going stir crazy or something and forgot the time."

"No, it's fine. Really. It's not like I'm getting back into the tub anyway. I'll just go get dressed."

She turned around, expecting him to follow, so he did. He was utterly ogling her now, imagining what she might look like under that robe, and his body started feeling things it was not supposed to feel around Hermione Granger. He knew he had to be losing it, but he no longer seemed to care. Before he knew what he was doing, he grabbed her arm, jerked her around, and pulled her face to his. He kissed her more fiercely than he had meant to, but a fire had lit him from head to toe.

He kicked the door shut behind him, at least coherent enough to realize they were in plain view doing something neither of them was technically supposed to be doing. He turned her against the door, breaking her lips harshly with his tongue, and he suddenly realized she wasn't fighting him. In fact, she had grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him as close as she could, and was kissing him back.

When they finally broke the kiss, he just stared into her eyes, breathing hard and trying to figure out what the hell just happened. He had to say something before she had time to start thinking.

"I hate you," he whispered. He really did. He really didn't. He had no idea how to explain himself. If she knew he was "confused" about her, she would probably use it to humiliate him. He decided to go the sexist route. "You shouldn't be answering the door in that getup."

"I hardly think my clothing choices coerced you into kissing me!"

"You mean your lack of clothing! You're practically naked!"

"Oh, and you're a bloke, right, so I should mind my manners?"

"Exactly."

"I thought you hated me. Why weren't you just all the more disgusted by my nakedness?"

Well, this wasn't working.

"Let's just stay focused. I'll forget the whole thing. Be on time tomorrow!"

Hermione shouted, "I hate you, too!" just as Draco started to vanish.

Immediately after Apparating home, he asked Liddy for some coffee and went to work, distracting himself from his and Granger's little "incident" with a little more research.