525.600 Minutes: In Truths That She Learned, or The Times That He Cried

Chapter Twenty One

She couldn't escape it, no matter what she did. The memories kept flashing in front of her mind, and so did her father. Frustrated at having no control over the issue and wanting to forget, for once, Hermione through he butterbeer bottle, that she clutched, across the room.

"You ought to watch where you throw things, someone could loose an eye." Malfoy said, a little hint of amusement in his voice. His trade mark smirk was plastered on his face.

Hermione turned around and met Malfoy's gaze with a teary one. Malfoy's smirk left his face as he made his way to sit next to her in front of the fire. Hermione turned her gaze back to the fire. Malfoy's eyes, on the other hand, rested on Hermione.

He could see the flames of the fire dancing in her eyes and her tears that fell down her face. "Talk, Granger."

"I don't want to Malfoy."

"No, I know you don't. But you need to, and you know it." Malfoy turned his body so he was no longer facing the fire, but Hermione. Hermione determinedly focused her eyes on the fire.

"Look at me." Malfoy said, trying to catch her eyes.

"No." she barely whispered. Without saying anything else, Malfoy lightly took hold of Hermione's chin with his thumb and pointer finger and turned Hermione's face towards him.

She wasn't crying anymore, but streaks of tears could be seen along her cheeks.

"It hurts." He stated. He may have sounded a bit cruel, and she may not have wanted to talk about it, but he pursued the topic anyways.

"So much." she whispered before she once again found herself in the arms of Draco Malfoy.

She didn't cry anymore. It wasn't for the fact that she wouldn't, but she couldn't. She had cried herself out and there were no more tears to be shed. Just the feeling of heavy ache and loss.

After five minutes, Hermione pulled away from Malfoy and looked him in the eye. She had never seen the look in his eye that he had know, and she couldn't place it. His eyes were as cold as usual, but there wasn't something behind them. It was warm, almost kind, and definite understanding.

"Thank you." she said, her voice barely even managing a whisper. Malfoy merely nodded.

Without realizing what she was doing Hermione slowly leaned closer to Malfoy, closing the small gap between them and placed a delicate kiss on his lips.

Sudden realization dawned upon Hermione and she pulled away from the kiss. She quickly stood, and turned to leave, when something caught her sleeve. She turned around to see Malfoy's hand clutching to her sleeve, staring into her eyes. Slower than Hermione could have imaged he stood, placed a hand on her cheek, and kissed her again.

Three days later brought the night before Christmas Eve and the funeral of Hermione's father. Hermione sat in between Harry and Ron, Harry clutching her right hand and Ron her left, as Hermione continually shed tears.

Her blurry gaze left the ground before her as she looked around. Family members, some she had known her whole life and some she had never met before, and friends shared in her grief. All silently mourning the loss of a brother, cousin, nephew, and friend. But what made it worse for Hermione was the fact that her mother, wasn't not allowed to attend the funeral. The Healer's at St. Mungo's said she wasn't well enough to leave. Hermione cried even harder, her own mother wasn't allowed to attend the funeral of her husband.

A warm, motherly hand clutched Hermione's shoulder. Without turning around Hermione knew that it was Mrs. Weasley. Hermione turned completely around and gave the red-headed woman a small smile of appreciation. Mrs. Weasley returned it. Just over Mrs. Weasley's left shoulder Hermione could make out platinum blonde hair in the last seat in the last row. Hermione's smile became more genuine as she turned back around.

"Really, Mrs. Weasley." Hermione said at the end of the gathering after the funeral. "I'll be fine."

"Hermione, dear, I insist that you come back to the Burrow with us."

"Mrs. Weasley, I truly appreciate your invitation." A flash of blonde hair crossed Hermione's vision from the shadows of the room. "But I'd like to go back to Hogwarts. I'll be alright. I promise."

Mrs. Weasley was opened her mouth to reply, but then closed it. Despite the fact that she believed Hermione shouldn't be alone, she knew that there was no way she was going to sway the strong-willed girls decision. Instead, she gave a warm smile. " I want you to write if anything is wrong." Hermione nodded and gave the woman a hug.

It was Christmas Eve and the sun was setting.

"Mum, this is Draco Malfoy." Hermione said, motioning towards Malfoy. A large smile filled Mrs. Granger's face as she looked at her daughters hand entwined with the boy's next to her. Hermione knew that she had no explaining to do, for she knew that her mother understood, even in the state that she was in.

"We can't stay long, since visiting hours are almost over with. But I just," she paused. It was a simple enough task, but how to go about it Hermione didn't know.

"Give me your hand Mum," Jane Granger looked at her daughter with a puzzled look for a few seconds before reaching her hand towards Hermione. "Good," Hermione smiled. "now close your eyes." Mrs. Granger once again looked at her daughter in a funny way before doing so.

Holding onto her mother's wrist and making sure that her eyes stayed closed, Hermione dug into her pocket and pulled out a single gold ring. Hermione lightly placed the gold metal into her mother's hand, and curled her fingers around it. "There. Happy Christmas, Mum."

Hermione carefully placed her mother's hand back at her side. Upon feeling her hand coming in contact with the soft blankets, Mrs. Granger opened her eyes. She stared at her closed hand for a moment before uncurling her fingers. Her eyes lingered on the gold piece of metal, and she knew. Despite her physical and mental state, she knew. A single tear escaped her eye as Jane realized that the piece of jewelry in her hand was her late husband's wedding ring.

Hermione woke on Christmas morning to the sound of silence and the sight of presents at the foot of her bed. She sat up, and stretched her arms, before crawling to the end of the bed. She eye her presents before picking up a square one.

She carefully took of the shimmering blue paper. Underneath the paper lay a flat, square, violet jewelry box. Hermione opened the box with shaky hands, having no idea who it was from. Once the box was fully opened, Hermione gasped.

A silver locket sat nicely on the crème colored pillow. The locket was in the shape of a rose in full bloom. Her shaky hands did they best they could do to not break the locket in two as she opened it. There, staring back at her was the picture taken the past summer of her and her parents, all three smiling brightly and waving. Her smiled and waved back as tears of joy ran down her cheek.

She reluctantly closed the locket and looked at the back and saw that an engraving in the most beautiful of cursives rested there. It read: Our Precious Rose. Once again opened the locket and stared at the picture.

After a few minutes of staring at the picture, Hermione became aware of the a folded piece of paper, taped to the inside of the top of the box. She quickly grabbed at the letter and opened it to reveal a short message.

To our Hermione, our precious rose. Happy Christmas.

Love,

Mom and Dad