After Everything (Dramione)

Chapter 13

So sorry its taken me ageeesss to update. I've just been really really really busy lately and had no time to write much. To make up for it, have a plot twist:

Hermione's POV

The next morning, I awoke to find Draco Malfoy lying across my bed, taking up most of the space and leaving me squashed up by my pillow. For a moment, I was confused as to why my best friend's childhood nemesis was in my bed before all the memories of the past few weeks came flooding back. It seemed though, that I had known and loved Draco for far longer that merely a few weeks, and maybe I had; after all, the veil between love and hate is so incredibly thin.
He stirred and I smiled down at his face which was surrounded by a halo of messy blond hair. He was so beautiful when he slept, far more beautiful than I could ever be, which was slightly unfair considering he's a man. I always felt uncomfortable when he called me beautiful because I knew that I wasn't and I never knew what to say in return.
"Morning," he mumbled sleepily, opening his eyes.
"Hey, it's almost time to go to work," I whispered, playfully shoving his arm away. Unfortunately, it seemed I pushed a little too hard as he ended up falling onto the floor, wrapped up on the duvet. I giggled, but when he got up I was surprised to see the hurt painted across his features.
"Are you ok?" I asked, rushing immediately to his aid.
"Yeah I'm fine," he said vaguely, stroking the arm that I had wrapped around his waist, "It's just that kind of reminded me..." He trailed off.
"Reminded you of what?" I cupped his face in my hands but he angrily shook them off.
"Just leave it ok! You know I have a dark past, I don't want to talk about it!" He shouted, stepping away from my embrace. My surprise and hurt must have been clear on my face as his expression immediately softened into one of guilt.
"I'm so sorry, Hermione. I swear, I won't ever shout at you again." He kissed me and as I got dressed, I considered what he had said before. Sure, he had been a death eater but how would falling off a bed remind of his servitude to Voldemort? It was deeply worrying to me, but I respected the fact that he was no longer the man he used to be and that he had secrets from that past that he would prefer remained hidden. How could I have known then that the very secret he kept so locked away was about to catch up with both of us that very day?

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When we arrived at the Ministry that morning, Draco and I kissed quickly before heading our separate ways. As I walked through the mostly empty entrance hall towards the lift, I could feel a pair of eyes burning into the back of my head. I turned, unsettled, and to my confusion saw a dark figure in a long black cloak turn and walk in the opposite direction. I disregarded the person as anything dangerous and continued to my office, greeting people as I went and making small talk.
"Beautiful morning, isn't it Ian?"
Or
"How's you husband, Gina? I was so sorry to hear about the broomstick injury."
But as I walked through those corridors that I now knew like the back of my hand, I couldn't shake the paranoid feeling that settled in my stomach and sent fingers crawling up my spine. It wasn't until I saw the dark figure a second time that I started to suspect something unsavoury was afoot.

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The second time I saw her was from the elevated position of my office, through the large window that overlooked most of the ground floor. I say 'her' because when I saw the inky black of her flowing cloak cross the deep green marble floor, cascades of chocolate brown hair fell from the hood that shadowed her face. She stood and lifted her face, still darkened underneath her cloak, directly towards my window, as if she could see me from down there. She stood, staring for about twenty seconds before she slunk away into the shadows. For the rest of the day, I constantly felt her presence, yet whenever I turned around there would be nothing there out of the ordinary.

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When I got home that evening, I found Draco in the kitchen cooking a spaghetti bolognese. Unfortunately, it seemed he'd never even been near a saucepan in his life, and though he was desperately squinting at the instructions in one of my muggle cookbooks, the sauce was blackened and the spaghetti was a worrying shade of magenta.
"Tell me you didn't try and use magic to cool spaghetti!" I laughed, pulling him into a hug.
He gave me a sheepish look.
"I thought I'd cook supper to apologise for this morning but it hasn't exactly gone to plan." He said.
"Apology accepted." I said, dropping a brief kiss upon his lips.
"And we're going to have to fix those cooking skills of yours," I said.
"So how was your day?" He asked.
I was silent for a moment.
"Well something weird happened today." I eventually said. I told him all about the strange girl in the black cloak. After I finished speaking, he sat down, his face in his hands. All the colour drained from his already pale face and his hands trembled.
"I knew it." He mumbled to himself behind his fingers, "I knew it."
"Draco," I said, "Draco what is it?"
"Hermione," he said, looking me straight in the eyes, "I need to tell you something. Something really, really awful."

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A/N: Sorrryyyy I know it's another cliff hanger but I actually have plans so bear with me xxx