The version of himself that he wore so perfectly on the island whenever Aurore could see him, the softness, the crooked smiles, and quiet monologues. It all vanished as though it was a costume he put on. The perfect, unfailing persona of the father he wanted to be.
Now he was real again. As cold and glittering as razor-edged steel.
Hermione stared up at him, feeling as though there was a chasm inside her. “We said we were done.”
“No,” he said, folding his arms and quirking an eyebrow. “You said we were done, and I didn't argue with you.”
Hermione's jaw trembled, and she looked down. “You could have been caught. If they'd caught you, you would have been killed.”
Her head was throbbing, and her sternum hurt as though he'd cracked her in half.
“I'm quite difficult to kill. Considerably harder to kill than a middle-aged healer.” His eyes were ice.
“What did you do?” She met his gaze. “Cruciatus until she drowned?”
The corner of his mouth twitched as he glanced away. “Clever as always.”
Hermione didn't say anything else. She kept staring at him, waiting for him to look at her.
“She deserved to die,” he finally said, staring stonily out of the window. “You had to have known I was going to kill her the moment the reports came that she'd fled. You knew I'd find her.”
Hermione tried to swallow. Her shoulders were trembling as she held herself rigidly. “You lied to me. You lied to me. You hid what you were doing. You said you had to visit Canada to deal with a financial transfer. Now — every time you leave, I'm going to wonder what you're really doing, and I'm going to worry that you're never going to come back—” Her voice broke.
Draco's expression rippled, and he reached towards her.
Hermione stood up sharply to avoid his touch, pressing her hand against her sternum. “Is this not enough for you? Is having a life so dissatisfying that revenge is worth all that risk?” Her eyes were burning. “In a few years, we're going to have to tell Aurore. She's going to go to school and hear about the war in her classes, unable to say anything. They're going to talk about you. They're going to tell her all the things you did.”
Draco's jaw clenched.
Hermione drew a ragged breath. “It's going to shatter her whole world — even if she hears it from you first. We don't get to have all the things we want in this life, Draco. You were the one who told me that. You said, there was a point when I had to realise I wasn't going to get everything I wanted, and that I had to choose something and let it be enough. I chose you. Always. I always chose you.”
Her lungs started spasming so violently it caused a strained whimpering sound in her throat. She pressed her hands over her mouth. Draco flinched visibly and reached for her again.
Hermione glared at him. “If this isn't what you want to choose any longer, you owe it to me to at least tell me first.”
“Granger, it wasn't like that,” he said, his voice tense as he approached her slowly.
She stepped back. “Really? You just happened to come across her while you were an entire continent away from where you said you'd be? You've been looking for her this whole time, haven't you?”
He nodded reluctantly, but his eyes were still unapologetic. “She deserved to die after what she did to you. I couldn't leave her once I knew where she was hiding.”
Hermione's mouth twisted and she looked away. “Then you shouldn't have looked. You should have left it alone.” She gave a quiet sob. “The worst part is — I'm so glad she's dead. I'm glad she suffered. I just didn't want it to be you — why is it always you?”
Draco took two rapid steps across the room and caught her by the arm before she could back away.
Hermione wavered for a moment before burying herself in his arms. “I hated her. I hated her so much. I hated her.”
“I know,” he said, cradling her face and pressing their foreheads together as she fought to breathe. “I know.”
She gave a low sob.
“I swear, I'm done now. Please breathe.” He held her tightly in his arms. “There won't be anyone else.”
Hermione stood in the Wellington Central Station watching the green flames of a large fireplace die away.
“It's just the two of us now,” she said in a wistful voice.
Draco was silent as he stood beside her. His hand slipped around her waist, warm and possessive.
She rested her head against his shoulder. “You realise why she's going, don't you?”
There was a pause before Draco gave a pained sounding sigh. “Yes...”
A smile played at the corner of her mouth. “I suppose it was almost inevitable.”
She looked up at Draco, who was still staring at the fireplace; an expression of both bitterness and resignation was on his face. He looked down and met her gaze.
His features were hidden behind glamours, but his eyes were always the same. No matter how long she studied them, there always seemed to be nuances in the way the colour shifted that she had yet to discover. He felt things so intensely but privately. They were alike in that regard.