A Wonderful Fortuitous Love

35. Good Enough

Dedicated to MissJordiLise because she made a very much appreciated piece of fan art for AWFL :D the link is on my profile if you'd like to check it out.  

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“The most important things are the hardest to say. They are the things you get ashamed of, because words diminish them – words shrink things that seemed limitless when they were in your head to no more than living size when they’re brought out. But it’s more than that, isn’t it? The most important things lie too close to wherever your secret heart is buried, like landmarks to a treasure your enemies would love to steal away. And you may make revelations that cost you dearly only to have people look at you in a funny way, not understanding what you’ve said at all, or why you thought it was so important that you almost cried while you were saying it. That’s the worst, I think. When the secret stays locked within not for want of a teller but for want of an understanding ear.”

- Stephen King

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Her stomach clenched painfully, and she could not think with her heart pounding so loudly in her ears. She looked for evidence, any kind at all, that would tell her it was not what it looked like. Except Draco’s door was wide open where she’d emerged from, there were lip marks down her neck, and her skirt was dishevelled, and she knew it would be foolish of her.

It took Hermione seven seconds too long to realise that the woman had said some form of greeting, and it took her five more after that to realise she ought to reply. So she gave a small hello, the word sounding strained and forced.

The woman held out her perfectly manicured hand, looking more confident. “I’m Tina,” she said. “And you must be Granger, yeah?”

“Hermione,” she corrected automatically, unable to prevent herself from staring at the red thong poking out of her pocket, refusing to take Tina’s outstretched hand that Merlin only knew where it’d been.

Tina’s fingers curled into her palm slowly when Hermione did not shake her hand, and reluctantly she dropped her arm to have it fall by her side uselessly.

“He called you Granger,” she continued, and was Hermione imagining it or did her voice sound wintrier than before? “He used your last name, not your first. He calls me Tina,” she added almost smugly.

“That’s probably because he can’t remember your last name,” she said coldly before she could think to stop. 

Tina’s eyes narrowed and she opened her mouth furiously to retort, but then they both heard the thumping of two feet coming down the stairs. Tina turned around as Hermione went around the kitchen counter to the dinner table, both of their attention now upon the staircase.

Draco yawned loudly, his hair sticking up in every angle possible, his pyjama pants down so low you could see the tops of his boxers.

Over the past few months Hermione had begun to think, though would never admit it out loud, that he looked… well, adorable in his sleepy state, and by not being a morning person, he was always thoroughly disorientated. He’d need help with the most basic of things, like which cupboard the cereals were kept in and the difference between sugar and salt, milk and juice (she’d found out that last one the hard way). And because he was a bit of a dolt in the mornings, Hermione wasn’t very surprised when he walked around Tina like a piece if furniture.

This didn’t discourage Tina in the least. She bounded up to him, wrapped an arm around his waist and suddenly looked much more happier than before. “Draco, sweetie. I was going to leave you a note,” she began, her voice now sounding much like Pansy’s had done when they were in school, “but I’ve got to drop into work for a –”