Fourteen Thousand Galleons

The Lengths You'll Go

She's reeling. Who can blame her, really? Harry's hanging his head in front of her and Draco's so quiet that she wonders if he's struck dumb. She stands from the table, drops Harry's hand in the process, and paces. Her fingers dig into her forehead as the heels of her palms press into her eyes. She bumps into a chair here and there, but she doesn't make a noise as she adjusts her course and keeps pacing.

"I –"

Hermione snaps her mouth shut and flings her hands down to her sides. If her nails were long, they'd leave indents in her skin with the sheer force of pressing the tips of her fingers into her palms. How did she miss this? Why is it such a common theme to have no bloody idea what's going on in Harry's life? Why does he hide so many important things from her? She's the very worst sort of friend, apparently. The worst friend, the worst wife; Merlin knows what she actually has to offer anyone anymore.

She's not selfish, not normally. But she's hurt and everything around her seems to be falling apart. Crashing and breaking and nothing is what it's always been. She shakes the thoughts from her head as best as she can, but still the sadness remains.

"Have I been a horrible friend to you, Harry?" Is what comes out of her mouth instead of anything else she could possibly say after he's bared his soul to her.

"What?" Harry jumps up from the table. "No, of course not!"

Hermione's gaze finds Draco, who is watching her with tense eyes and rigid posture. His face gives nothing away of his thoughts and she doesn't know why she expects any different.

"Do I still have a job, Draco?" Because it's uncomfortable and she's not sure that he can continue to employ her under this sort of strain. Purebloods avoid all this unpleasant business, don't they?

He ducks his chin. His words are short, concise, no fluff. "Of course."

"Then I'll see you on Monday." Hermione starts to leave the room, but Harry grabs her by the elbow and forces her to face him. "Harry, I –"

"Do you hate me?" His face plainly displays his agony – the way it's pinched and pale – and she's so sorry that he feels it that she cups his unshaven cheek gently in her hand and shakes her head.

"No," she whispers softly. "I need time to think, Harry. A lot has happened and I can't... I don't know what I'm thinking, okay? You..."

Her eyes rest on Draco again. God, Harry kissed her a week ago, but he's clearly been with Draco. Does Draco know? When he finds out, will he fire her and ruin everything? Tears start welling up in her eyes and she brings her wide, brown gaze back to Harry.

"When you two finish dinner, come over and we'll talk." He nods, swallows, and lets go of her elbow. She breathes deep and turns from Harry. "Goodnight, Draco."

She hears him murmur goodnight as she rounds the corner to find the floo.

Before she realizes it, Hermione is on her sofa in the same spot Harry found her only hours before. She's staring at the same spot on the wall where the paint is peeling away. Her mind is in such a state that she can hardly focus on one thing at a time. Harry – he's not who she thought and it's not that she really cares whose bed he falls into, but is he leading her on? He kissed her and he ran away and he's always, always there but he's in love with Draco. And Draco is in love with him, isn't he? The way he holds Harry and touches him; it's possessive and protective and nothing like she'd seen in the papers between Draco and Astoria. Gosh, Astoria; she was still alive when all of this happened, recently diagnosed with her illness and dying when they...

Her heart hurts. It contracts painfully as her stomach roils.

Does Draco know about the kiss? Why is he being so nice to her when all he's ever been is cruel? Was it Harry's doing? She worries about her job and wonders if she should quit and pay the solicitor another way – perhaps a job at Flourish and Blott's would pay her enough to meet the minimum monthly payment. Beg for her job back at the Ministry. Run away somewhere far, far away and never, ever come back.