The next few days seemed to fly by even though Hermione and Draco rarely spoke to one another, unless that is work required them to. Both were fervent to apologize but both were obviously very stubborn and neither wanted to make the first move. They collected what they need on Lockhart and soon it seemed they were packing to head back to London. They both were slightly saddened by this for they both enjoyed stepping outside of their element, but they were both eager to get home as well.
They sat in the same section of the plane, same row but left a space between them so as to keep their distance. Draco watched Hermione stare out the window obviously lost in thought because she did not even seem to notice that the plane had taken off and if she had she showed no signs of anxiety like when they had landed. He almost wished she had for he hoped maybe then she would pay some attention to him even if it was by accident. But she only stared on out the window her eyes glazed over bemusement. He finally turned his gaze from her and tried to read some magazines.
When they switched planes and were finally in route to London, Hermione finally relaxed some and was able to fall asleep. They had almost missed their flight due to their other plane being delayed in itís landing, which caused them to arrive during the final boarding call. Draco now noticed, as Hermione slept, that she had hastily tossed her travel bag on the floor at her feet and there was an odd looking book slightly sticking out of it. Curiosity was driving Draco mad and he was never one to not explore options which so readily presented themselves within his grasp. But he did not want her to wake up and find him nosing through her things. He went back and forth but his mind was reeling, he had to pick up the book. He leaned over and whispered her name to her but she did not stir. She had daintily drunk two glasses of wine and seemed to be in a pretty deep sleep at this point. Without hesitating another minute he picked the book up off the floor, slipped it into his jacket, stood from his seat and headed to the bathroom.
Once inside the lavatory he double checked for it to be locked then leaned against the wall, balancing himself as best as he could through some turbulence, and opened the book to see what itís interior consisted of. Once realizing it was her personal journal he went to immediately close it, until he dropped it and upon picking it up noticed his name penned onto one of its pages. He closed the book but kept his finger in place on the page in which he noticed his name, he was torn. He didnít want to invade her privacy like this but felt maybe that he would only know how she truly felt if he read what she had wrote. He gave in.
We arrived in Vegas and it is nothing like I have ever seen before. This city is full of lights, and not just average city lights; they are exuberating. The clubs here are nothing like the clubs in Europe and the food is very heavy. Besides having to work I have been actually having some fun, can you believe it? Hermione Granger having fun and in Vegas none the less; who would have thought. Of course I have not been having fun alone but this I whys my heart is pained. I allowed Draco Malfoy to get inside my head a few weeks ago and ever since we arrived here he has been so different. He is not the Draco we went to Hogwarts with. He is calmer, kinder and gentler. I would have never thought it before and ask myself now if I am crazy, but he makes me laugh Ron. Not like you ever did, but he made me laugh and it felt so good. For five years I have felt cold inside but when he touched me the other night something inside of me stirred. Something I have not felt in so long that I almost did not recognize it, warmth. Warmth in his touch and how gentle he was and when we kissed even though the world stopped suddenly I was alive again.
But then I woke up next to him and I found myself within my nightmare again. I hate that I betrayed you and your memory. I know you probably rolled in your grave soon as you seen me with him and then to have slept with him, I canít imagine what you must think of me. I have disgraced your honor and the honor of our child, even though I will only have the two of you in my heart, and in death. I hate death. I hate that you were taken from me and I hate that I lost our child. Most of all I hate myself for thinking I could find some solace within Draco and then actually finding it and for a few short hours enjoying it.
I am sorry Ron. I am sorry I am not the girl you fell in love with anymore and to be honest I donít know that I want to be her ever again. I want you to come back to me it is all I have ever wanted but I know that is impossible. I would give anything to wake up one morning and find you knocking on my door, but for now I shall only hear you beckon to me within my dreams.
Draco is like nothing I imagined and I was not expecting him. We arenít speaking now and that is partially my fault; no it is actually all my fault. If I had the courage I would tell him I was sorry but I have not come that far yet. I know deep down he is probably just playing wicked games with me anyways, sadly though I wished he werenít. I wish he were honest and I wish for one fleeting moment I really did captivate him as he did me. But then again sometimes all we have to hold on to are the things we wish for, the things we need, the things that allow us to breathe.
Draco closed the journal. What have I done? He thought to himself. His gut wrenched and he hated that he had just invaded her privacy. Yes he was angry with her but deep down past the anger and years of hate there was something more. Something he had never expected and he was too scared to even admit it to himself. He wiped the sweat from his brow and slid the journal back into his jacket then exited the bathroom. He prayed she was still sound asleep because he could conjure no lie to fix what he had just done, and he loathed himself for it.
Luckily when he returned she was still sound asleep and looked as though she hadnít moved from the position she was in when he left. He ever so quietly returned the journal to its exact location; he had always been good about remembering things of importance like that when being sneaky, and then leaned back in his seat. He watched her as she slept and his heart ached. He was sorry he had shouted at her, sorry he had been ignoring her ever since she yelled at him but mostly he was sorry she was in so much pain. She had never gotten over the death of Ron and then to learn she lost their child as well devastated him on the inside. For the first time in his life Draco felt his soul being tortured and he realized as he watched her sleep it was because he was falling in love with her; or maybe he had always secretly loved her from the very beginning.
Iíll never be what Ron was to her. He thought to himself and even though he wanted to reach out to her and take her in his arms as she slept, he left her be. He left her to her dreams where he knew she was at peace with herself and with Ron.
Write a Review Willingly into Wickedness: The Truth Hurts