Just a Kiss

Chapter 11

Unsurprisingly, Draco was the one to initiate the conversation that Hermione so greatly wanted to avoid.

"Hermione, tell me what Weasley did," Draco says, once more interrupting their lessons.

It had only been a few days since he last asked, but no matter how hard he tried, the curiosity simply wouldn't go away.

Hermione stops in the middle of talking, reacting just as she had the first time he asked. Glassy eyes, shaking hands, lips parted in a gasp. The only difference is her recovery time is much quicker than before. Her voice picks up an emotionless tone as she attempts to continues on with the lesson.

How dare he be so intrusive on her life when she'd told him time and again to leave it alone. They weren't friends, not by a long shot, and even if they were, she still wouldn't tell him. Harry and Ginny didn't even know the whole story for Merlin's sake! They only knew about Ronald disappearing.

"I told you that it was none of your business," she says when he doesn't seem willing to listen to the lesson anymore. Standing up from the sofa, she walks outside to the back porch and sinks onto the wooden swing that hung. He doesn't follow, so she tucks her feet underneath herself and lets her mind drift away.

Hermione wished everyday that she could forget what Ronald did. It had been the worst day of her life, rivaled only by the day she had to erase her parent's memories. She was one of the brightest witches, and yet she was powerless to forget her own past. A measly heartbreak had rendered her useless.

It wasn't so measly, though, was it? No, not even in the slightest. To be betrayed by the one you love most was enough to shatter the best, but to have that person be your best friend of ten years and your loved for two of those? Death would have been a relief from the all-consuming ache she had felt immediately after.

She wished more than forgetting that Ronald had killed her that day. It would be far less painful than what he'd left her with. A shattered heart, tainted memories, and the inability to allow herself to trust anyone. Oh yes, death would have been much preferred over this, the unfeeling shell she is now.

He did this to her and she had to spend every second of every day acting like she was still whole, acting like he didn't take a part of her away with him when he left.

Draco was no help to the situation either. Not that she had expected him to be, but she hadn't realized he would be this bad. All she wanted was to forget, and Draco was making it near impossible to even make a futile attempt at it.

How dare he question about her past? He was the enemy, and a prisoner in her house. She'd never spill her secrets to him. He could never know about the heartbreak and loss that a single person caused her. He wouldn't care about what had happened. If Hermione ever were to confess, the person would have to care, because she would need them to understand what Ronald had done to her and be strong in the one area she felt she couldn't.

Something wet splashes on her hand, drawing her attention downwards. On the top of her hand sat a single, pea-sized tear. Frowning, Hermione reaches up and touches her cheek. A small gasp slips out when she finds that she is crying.

She looks about herself, half expecting someone to be watching and judging her for being so weak, but she was alone.

Shaking away the foolish thoughts, Hermione brushes at the tears. More come to replace the ones she chases away. No matter how hard she tries, she couldn't staunch the flow of the traitorous tears. There was an ache, right behind her breastbone, that made her press a hand to her chest and slide off the swing.

She runs inside, skimming right past Draco who was still seated in the living room, and going straight up to her room. When he calls her name, she chooses to ignore him and slams the door of her bedroom before he could follow and see her tears.