A Wonderful Fortuitous Love

36. The Stolen Apple

 “Life will break you. Nobody can protect you from that, and living alone won’t either, for solitude will also break you with its yearning. You have to love. You have to feel. It is the reason you are here on earth. You are here to risk your heart. You are here to be swallowed up. And when it happens that you are broken, or betrayed, or left, or hurt, or death brushes near, let yourself sit by an apple tree and listen to the apples falling all around you in heaps, wasting their sweetness. Tell yourself you tasted as many as you could.”

- Louise Erdrich, The Painted Drum

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Hermione seemed intent upon not mentioning the Tina incident. Whenever he approached her about it, she would instantly change the subject, make some excuse to leave or, if all else failed, ignore him completely. But what had his brain in tatters was that she would still make small remarks about it every once in a while. He figured she was still mad about their fight, not that she didn’t have the right to be, and after days of working up the courage, he confronted her during their lunchbreak to say sorry.

The apology had slipped from Draco’s mouth without even realising what he’d actually done until he saw the surprise on Hermione’s features, soon followed by a smile. Apologising was not something a Malfoy did on a regular basis, and he found his cheeks reddening before he made the hasty exit from her office.

But he was sorry and he was very glad that she knew that now. Not just sorry for their fight either, but for Tina too. After Draco’s pleasant chat with Potter, Draco had ducked out to the bar across the street and gotten so drunk all he could really remember was flirting with some girl and her asking if she could come home with him. At the time it’d seemed like an excellent idea, Draco thinking that perhaps it would take his mind off not only Granger, but Potter’s words too.

Obviously, it hadn’t worked. If anything, Hermione was in his head more than she used to be. He couldn’t get the stupid kiss out of his brain and her words of thinking he was smart, witty, interesting and funny would not stop repeating. It felt like the start of the year all over again. She’d been driving him crazy then and she was driving him crazy now (only in very different ways).

He still did his best to keep as far away from her as possible, not because he was actually listening to Potter, but because Draco himself had known all along that they were becoming much closer than they should’ve been and that Granger had been, and always would be, better than him.

The fact that he could even admit it was a mark of how this year was beginning to change him. At the start, you could have hung Draco up by his ankles and threatened him to the Giant Squid and he still would’ve refused to admit Granger was better. But the truth was he’d known he was no match for her ever since the war ended. She had fought and stayed by Potter’s side no matter what. And Draco… Draco had left halfway through without the slightest glance back.

Except distancing himself was starting to look impossible. She was always there, and when he usually made an excuse to leave, she would actually look hurt while Draco would feel regretful, and he wondered when they’d gotten to the point of missing each other’s company.

Draco visited his father and mother in the Manor on Friday afternoon. Lucius was back up on his feet and moving about daily duties as normal, looking perfectly fine except for when he’d suddenly stare off into the garden with a puzzled expression, or look down at his favourite green nightshirt with a curious frown. Narcissa said it was just the Memory Charm and nothing to worry about, which Draco took her word for.

He had afternoon tea with them, got up to date with everything that was happening, and Draco went home shortly afterwards.

He appeared in the flat and straight away headed for the fruit bowl, taking out an apple. He bit into it greedily as he sat himself down at the table, his back to Granger, who was sitting in the armchair and flipping through some magazine.