Congratulations, I Still Hate You

3

Draco's POV

When Blaise reappears a few minutes later, he's alone.  Paradoxically, I'm both relieved and upset.

"Where is she?"

"Hanging back for now.  I asked her to have something to eat while you and I talk."

"Fucking hell," I mutter.  "Not you too."

"Your father asked Mark to call Hermione but for obvious reasons, she wasn't answering.  So he called me.  Draco, what the bloody hell?"

I shut my eyes and briefly rub my eyes with the heels of my hands.  

"The doctor said I should rest.  Can we talk about this another time?"

"Right," he chuckles darkly.  "Because you're suddenly so keenly interested in following orders."

"Actually I feel like fresh hell so I'm planning on doing exactly what she says."

"Coming out of surgery does that to a person I guess, but you know what really does it?  Hitting a tree at a fast clip.  Mark said there were no skid marks in the gravel or the grass."

"So?"

"He also said you'd just had a big dust-up with your father.  I talked to the old man myself and he said you'd stormed off after he offered to speak with Hermione."

"He thinks he can play the hero and I'm not letting him."

His slight nod is his way of siding with me.  He knows all about my father and understands our strained dynamic.

"I phoned the house an hour ago.  He's slipping in and out of consciousness and probably won't be alive by the time you're discharged, so if you want to make your peace...not for his benefit but for yours."

"And say what?" I say, raising my voice a little.

Blaise silently presses a finger to his lips, reminding me that if I'm going to lose my shit, to at least be discreet about it.  The last thing I want is some medication that's going to knock me out before Hermione and I can talk, so I try and calm myself.  Deep breaths are out of the question with the broken ribs but I can at least take slow, mediocre ones.  

"Better?" he smirks.

"Fuck off."

"You're a real asshole, you know that?  I get no thanks for driving all the way out here or for bringing her.  Damn."

He's teasing but he's right.  I thank him and drop the attitude.  When I ask how she is, his expression grows serious.  

"She didn't say much.  The only reason she came, I think, is because I told her the truth about what happened."

So much for staying calm.

----

He'd told her what I'd done because he wasn't sure she would've come otherwise.  Honestly, I would've preferred that she hadn't.  I couldn't bear to have anyone bring it up, much less look at me with pity.  In the light of day, the whole thing was embarrassing.

When she appeared in the doorway a few minutes after Blaise had gone to get her, there was no look of pity.  I saw anger.  Hurt.  

From the moment we'd met, I'd been driven mad trying to read her.  At least now I knew where I stood.

"You can come in."

"Just a while ago you were yelling 'get her out of here'," she replies quietly.

We appraise each other from across the room.  My vision isn't so sharp at a distance but she looks like she still needs some sleep, only ten times worse.  Actually, she looks terrible.  I'd expected her to seem refreshed now that she was free of me.  Through my temporary brain fog, I couldn't make sense of it and it frustrated me.

"I only said that because I didn't want you to see me lying on the floor with my naked arse out."

"I've seen your naked arse once before."  

Her smile barely lifts her lips at all.  She seems sad, and I want to shake my head and make all of the pieces fit.

"When?"

"The day you didn't answer your phone.  Remember?"

Oh.  Right.  Just before her parents came into town.  

"Well, there's a difference in seeing me fresh out of the shower and seeing me on the floor like that with this contraption on my leg."

"It's still the same pale arse," she shrugs.

"Can we not discuss my arse while you're standing by the door?  I don't want the nurses to think about my arse."

My poor attempt at humour falls flat. 

"I was only joking.  Will you come closer?"

She crosses the room but not completely.  She stops a few steps away from the bed.  

My eyes flicker to her hands but she tucks them behind her back.  I know I shouldn't want her to be still wearing my ring - nothing's changed - but I want her to be.  The thought makes me hate myself more than I already do.

"Blaise said you got the call about your father the night you were supposed to meet my parents.  Why didn't you let me know?  Or was that deliberate?"  She glances down.  "Sorry, the doctor said you're supposed to rest and not be under any stress but," she trails off.

"You told the nurses you're my fiancee," I say softly, hoping she'll show her hand.  "Why?"

She snorts softly and looks up.  "A question for a question.  I guess I should've expected that."

The pain in my head is getting worse.  I can only guess the tension isn't helping, and although I should ask to be left alone, I can't be rude to her.  

"My head's fuzzy and fucked up right now, babe," I sigh, rubbing my forehead again.  My eyes flip open when I realise what I've just said.  "Sorry, I don't know why I said that.  See?  Head's fucked up.  They've probably given me some seriously good shit."  I shift in the bed, more uncomfortable from this conversation than from my injuries.  "We can talk in a few days if you want me to call you.  Until then, Blaise can take you back to London.  I'm sure you're anxious to get back to your life."

She snorts again and glances up at the ceiling.  As she rubs her chin briefly, I get the answer I was looking for, right there on her left ring finger.  She puts it back behind her and I pretend not to have noticed.

"Right, well I'll just leave you to yours then.  I hope everything works out for you, Draco."

She stares at me through progressively glossier eyes and then turns to go.  

With each step she takes toward the door, my heart and mind war with each other.  

I want to tell her that I'm lying in this bed because the pain of living without her had seemed too great last night to bear. 
I want to shout stop, I'm in love with you.
I want to ask her if she remembers the date next week that we're supposed to be married.  Instead, I endure losing her a second time.   

She leaves the room and takes all of the air with her.  I press the call button and ask for something strong for the pain.  A short time later, I watch as a woman injects something into my IV, and within seconds I feel the heavy, welcome shroud of sleep blanketing me.