A Wonderful Fortuitous Love

28. Returned

"He’s not perfect. You aren’t either, and the two of you will never be perfect. But if he can make you laugh at least once, causes you to think twice, and if he admits to being human and making mistakes, hold onto him and give him the most you can. He isn’t going to quote poetry, he’s not thinking about you every moment, but he will give you a part of him that he knows you could break. Don’t hurt him, don’t change him, and don’t expect for more than he can give. Don’t analyze. Smile when he makes you happy, yell when he makes you mad, and miss him when he’s not there. Love hard when there is love to be had. Because perfect guys don’t exist, but there’s always one guy that is perfect for you."

- Bob Marley

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Draco didn’t come back. Not the next morning when Hermione entered the kitchen, seeing the apple he usually kept out for work untouched, nor that afternoon when she left work in a hast to see whether or not he’d returned. He didn’t come back on Tuesday, Wednesday or Thursday. It was the longest he’d ever been away, and the flat was strangely dull without his annoying presence… like the whole apartment was missing something. It didn’t feel right, with just her and Crookshanks there, and even the latter noticed. Crookshanks paced back and forth in front of the door, as if waiting for Draco’s return. After the first two days, he stopped and instead took to checking his room every few hours. Hermione wasn’t much better herself. She took off the Muffliato Charm and at every sound outside the door; she’d open it and glance down the hallways. Eventually, Hermione had to reason with herself how incredibly stupid and pathetic that was. He wasn’t going to knock on the door. If he came back, he’d Apparate. But then this only made her jump up at the sound of any crack like some coffee addict. 

But she was furious, damn it! She didn’t want him to come back, nor did she care what happened to him. And it was her anger that prevented herself from visiting Blaise or Pansy and asking where he was. He was the one who’d left, after all, and Hermione would not run after him like some pathetic little girl. Draco was the one who left because he was too cowardly to face what had happened. He was the one who’d left because he couldn’t deal. She was so angry; when she came across one of his shirts under the table she ripped it apart and chucked the thing out the window.

Hermione understood that what they’d done was shocking and confusing, and she admitted that that door had looked pretty tempting to her too. But she didn’t leave because this was not something that could be run away from. They would have to discuss it eventually… right? But then Hermione wondered if she could actually go through with that. While she was worried and furious with him to no bounds, his absence did make it easier to forget. She even found herself trying to erase it all and just pretend they’d had this massive fight and he’d stormed out, because that was familiar grounds for them and she liked normalcy.

Friday afternoon, Hermione came back from work. She lazily flicked her wand at the lights, and the flat lit up as she tossed her keys and bag on the counter. When she looked up again, Hermione saw that she wasn’t the only one in her home. For an instant, she thought she might scream, but realisation dawned on her first, and Hermione sighed in relief and annoyance.

Pansy stood up from the armchair and faced Hermione. She tried to smirk, but only achieved a tried sort of smile. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t scare me,” she said flatly. She walked into the kitchen to prepare dinner, placing the chop board and vegetables down roughly. Pansy watched, arms folded and leaning on the doorframe. And for a long time, it was quiet between the two; the only sound was Hermione brutally chopping up celery with her wand. 

“You seem a little… tense,” Pansy observed.

“Not at you,” Hermione answered, taking out some lettuce.