Pathetic. (A Draco Malfoy fanfiction)

Chapter 34.

The cobblestone street is not totally bustling like it used to be when I lived with Sirius, but it's a busy day, muggles walking every which way, chatting and laughing with each other whilst following an aimless path, each of them in their own, calm, happy little worlds; How I envy them.

If I could forget my worries for a single moment, just to joke around with someone, have a decent conversation, I'd be having an absolute ball.
I sigh and pull my dirtied jacket tighter around myself and I try to avoid shouldering any of these people, narrowly missing a red headed man who walks with who I assume is his girlfriend.

The red hair triggers a horrible feeling of longing in my chest, longing for a certain ginger best friend of mine, and I wonder why I'm headed where I'm headed before I even tried to go find Ron. I'm sure wherever Ron is, Hermione is there too, I would've been better off finding them than doing what I'm doing.
It all would've been so much easier if Draco just-

My wrist is suddenly seized, and I'm yanked around to face the offender, who still holds my wrist within a very very tight grip.
It's the red headed man. He stands there before me, clutching me, ghost white, eyes wide and horrified, he's practically shaking in his beat-up sneakers.
His mouth is hanging wide open, but he manages to choke out a single word,
"Sarah?!"
Ron.

I nod slowly and swallow hard, just a half second before Ron slams his body into me like a truck, except, y'know, instead of dying, I'm just enveloped in one of the tightest hugs I've ever experienced in my entire life, and it feels just fucking fantastic.

"You were dead! H-how are you....Merlin Sarah, how are you here?"
He suddenly pulls back and holds me at an arms reach away from him, looking me over in disbelief.

"I don't know, I just woke up yesterday in the woods somewhere and that was-are you okay?"
Ron has buried his face into my shoulder as he cries, I was right about the shaking, it feels like I'm being held by a jackhammer or something.
He tries to answer my question, but all that comes out is a squeak, followed by more sobbing.

I happen to look up at the person who Ron was walking with as I gently rub his back in a hopeless attempt to calm him, and almost shout in surprise;
Hermione stands several feet back from us, her mouth gaping open and her eyes as wide as humanly possible.
"Hermione!"
She doesn't say anything when I say her name, in fact, she doesn't move a single muscle at all until Ron finally releases me from his iron grip.
He steps back a little bit, looking back and forth between us like a referee looks between two fighters, strangely enough.

"'Mione, it's me, it's me!"
If she reacts like Draco, I don't know what I'm gonna do. Sure, Ron seems to believe me, but I'm sure he'd change his mind if Hermione didn't.

Hermione begins to get closer to Ron and I, each step is excruciatingly slow and hesitant, but I'm obviously not gonna rush her because I am not in the position to be expecting anything less than shock from people.

As she gets nearer, I notice the subtle differences in her, since I had last seen her; she hasn't sprouted up by at least a foot like Ron has, but she is slightly taller than she was before, and the dark circles that once seemed to permanently line her under eyes have disappeared, a side effect of the war being over, I suspect. She seems happy, if I ignore her current expression, as does Ron, and I begin to wonder if I've intruded on their happiness a little bit.

Hermione stops just a step or two away from me, and stares at me for what feels like forever, like she expects me to say something, so I do,
"It's so good to see-"
In an instant, her palm connects with my cheek and sends me into a bit of a shock myself.

Did she just fucking slap me?

"AND JUST WHERE THE BLOODY HELL HAVE YOU BEEN?!"
She demands, anger scarily clear in her voice. I turn to face her, holding my burning cheek in one hand and holding out the other defensively, just in case.
"I don't-"

She raises her hand again, but doesn't actually hit me again, she just holds it up and taps her foot as she scowls at me with the ferocity and expectation of a school teacher scolding her students.
"Was this another one of Dumbledore's bloody plans? To fake your death?! How could you do that to us?!"

Fake my...what?

"Hermione, I didn't fake anything! I really was dead! Why the fuck would I fake my death?"
Her scowl fades a little bit, and her hand begins to drop, but she narrows her eyes at me, so we've clearly got a ways to go.

"If you really died, how are you here? Shouldn't you be....well, dead?"
I don't want to have to explain myself again, because I still don't full understand what the fuck happened, but what else can I do?
Ron finally decides to speak up, after just watching us the whole time without intervention, I get that he was probably just as surprised as I am, but honestly, couldn't he have at least stopped her from hitting me?
"Honey, she really was dead. We buried her, remember?"

Thank merlin for Ron, he really ca- my brain seems to short circuit for a second as I process what he just said; did he just call her honey?!

Hermione rolls her eyes at him,
"I obviously remember that, but it could've been a trick, and she could've been on a bloody vacation ever since!"
"'Mione, we buried her in those clothes."
They both stare at my dirt caked clothes, and Hermione's face finally softens completely, and her eyes well up with tears.
"Oh. Right."
Suddenly, she barrels into my body even faster than Ron did, nearly knocking me over in the process, it hurts a little bit, but I couldn't care less, I'm just happy to have my best friends back.
Hermione's arms wrap around me tightly, only loosening slightly so I'm not crushed once Ron takes us both in his arms and squeezes tight himself, like he knows exactly what I needed, what we all needed, each other.