O Tell Me the Truth About Love

                                                                                   

By Eamane-Shu

 

 

Disclaimer -  I do not own any of the characters from Harry Potter – I’m just borrowing them to have my own warped fun.

 

           


 

 

 

 

Will it come like a change in the weather? Will its greeting be courteous or rough? Will it alter my life altogether? O tell me the truth about love.                  W. H. Auden (1938)

 

Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds, or bends with the remover to remove: O no! It is an ever-fixed mark which looks on tempests and is never shaken.

                                                                                                William Shakespeare

 

 

 

 

Hermione stepped out of the restaurant, and closed the door behind her quietly, she didn’t wish to cause a scene, not here and not like this. Tears were streaming down her face, but she held her head high, after all she still had her pride. She walked quickly through Diagon Alley, until she saw a deserted bench, and she sat down gingerly, and sobbed as though her heart would break. Inside the restaurant, where Hermione had been due to meet one of her friends for lunch, sat Ron, with a pretty blonde witch, who Hermione didn’t recognise. She assumed that it was simply a business lunch that he had simply neglected to mention, after all they had been dating for three years now, living together for two of those, and Hermione trusted him. Until he leant over the table and kissed the blonde, and it certainly wasn’t a friendly kiss, oh no, Hermione would never dream of kissing Harry like that.

 

A flicker of black in the corner of Hermione’s eyes caught her attention; somebody was sitting on the bench beside her. She looked up and was greeted by startling blue eyes, framed by long blond hair. She was sitting on a bench with Lucius Malfoy, former death eater, servant of the dark lord and general bad guy. At the end of the war, in seventh year, Harry had finally defeated Voldemort and all the death eaters had been rounded up, or as in Lucius Malfoy’s case, pleaded the imperius curse, donated a few thousand galleons and found himself once again a reputable member of society.

 

“Why Miss Granger, what on earth could be the matter?”

 

Hermione moved as far away from him as she could. “Boyfriend troubles?” he chuckled to himself. “If I were you” he continued, “I would want payback, to hurt him as much as he hurt you.”

 

“How” her voice was so low it was almost a snarl.

 

“I beg your pardon?”

 

“How would you hurt him? How would you make him pay?”

 

“Go home” Lucius commanded suddenly. “Act as if none of this has happened, then tonight meet me in le chaudron bouillant.” He threw around the name of the most exclusive restaurant in Diagon Alley as if it were the local Macdonald’s “I will advise you on what to do next then.” Hermione nodded her agreement before apparating back to the small apartment that she and Ron shared.

 

She started to wander into the kitchen, not really paying attention to where she was going, and she gasped as she walked headlong into somebody, she looked up to see Harry laughing at her.

 

“Hey Mione, what you doing home so early? I thought you were having lunch with Cassie.”

 

“I did, she had to rush off early, and I was tired, so I came back.”

 

“Where did you go?” Harry asked, helping himself to a biscuit.

 

“Just to café rouge” Hermione commented evenly. Harry’s face paled. It suddenly dawned on Hermione. He knows. This fresh betrayal cut her like a knife, apart from Ron, Harry was her best friend in the entire universe. How could he have even considered hiding something like this from her?

 

“Harry, I’m sorry.” She said coldly, her voice chilled like the northern wind “I have to change, I’m going out tonight and I need to get ready”

 

“Where are you going?” he asked suddenly worried, if she had found out about Ron’s affair god only knows what she was capable of.

 

“Le chaudron bouillant” she replied, naming the exquisite French restaurant where she was due to meet Lucius Malfoy in a matter of hours.

 

“Oh” said Harry feeling relieved, “Is Ron taking you out?”

 

“No, I’m going with a colleague from work” she lied smoothly, willing Harry not to ask any more questions. He didn’t.

 

“Well I’ll leave you to it.” He smiled, kissing her affectionately on the cheek. Hermione did her best not to grimace, she would forgive Harry eventually, but it would take time.

 

With a crack, he was gone and Hermione was left alone in the flat. Although it was cramped, and in the bad end of wizarding London, Hermione loved the small apartment that she shared with Ron, they had to scrimp and save to afford the rent, but it had meant that they could be together. Neither of them made much money yet, Hermione was an apprentice healer at St Mungo’s and Ron was working in the department of Magical Games and Sports, under Ludo Bagman. It was an underpaid position, but it had potential for promotion. Hermione wandered into the bedroom that she shared with Ron, wondering how long she could keep up this charade, she stated rummaging in her closet, hunting for something suitable to wear tonight, Le chaudron bouillant was a very exclusive restaurant, and Hermione had only been once before, when Harry had taken her and Ron there for her 18th birthday.

 

She eventually settled on a simple strapless black dress, and a pair of low kitten heels, before running herself a bath. A couple of cucumber slices removed the puffiness and tired feeling from her eyes, and she was soon feeling relatively relaxed. After her long soak in the tub, she began to put some make up on. Current wizarding fashion dictated the natural look, so her face was soft, with pink lips and eyes. Her hair was swept back and piled up on the back of her head, with a few tendrils running loose. She was sitting in her dressing room, pinning the last few tendrils in place, when Ron arrived home.

 

He let out a low whistle. “What’s the occasion babe? You look lovely” he came over and kissed her on the cheek. It took all of Hermione’s composure not to turn around and slap him.

 

“I’m going out to dinner sweetie” she replied with a forced smile.

 

“Where?” he asked puzzled, he didn’t remember her mentioning anything earlier.

 

“Le chaudron bouillant” she started applying her mascara, no longer paying him any attention.

 

She definitely hadn’t told him about going there. “When did you plan this” he asked suspiciously.

 

“It’s a last minute thing; it was only arranged this afternoon.”

 

“But reservations take weeks, remember when I tried to get a table there last year.”

 

“My friend is friends with the maitre d’” she replied, hoping that he would let the matter go. He did, changing the topic.

 

“I may be in with a chance for promotion” he grinned

 

Hermione choked out her reply “How… How wonderful Ron!”

 

“Isn’t it? We’ll finally be able to move out of this dump, and when you finish your apprenticeship we’ll be able to afford to get married.

 

There was no way in hell Hermione was having this conversation. Marriage was something that they had often talked about, but it was way way down the line, and Hermione just didn’t know what to say.

 

“We’ll talk about it later” Ron smiled seeing the gob smacked look on Hermione’s face and misinterpreting it completely. “I’ll leave you in peace to get ready.”

 

When Ron had gone Hermione quickly changed, grabbed a black lacy shawl, yelled goodbye to Ron and apparated to Diagon Alley. She strolled down the street slowly, a part of her not wanting to reach the restaurant, now her anger had cooled slightly she was feeling apprehensive. She looked up from the cobbled street, to the restaurant, outside stood a man with blond hair, but it wasn’t Lucius, this man’s hair was much shorter, and he was much younger. 

 

“Granger” he nodded cordially.

 

“Malfoy” she greeted warmly. Since leaving Hogwarts the pair had settled into an easy, alliance. Draco was an apprentice potion maker at St Mungo’s, so the pair had been forced to work together in a professional manner. “Is your father inside?”

 

“No, he was detained on urgent business, so I am here in his stead. Shall we?” He gestured towards the restaurant, then followed Hermione inside. They were quickly seated by the Maitre d’, who recognized Malfoy immediately.

 

When they had ordered their food, which was to be put on the Malfoy tab, Draco turned to Hermione, worry etched on his face.

 

“So how are you holding up?”

 

This simple piece of concern nearly brought Hermione to tears. “I’m not too sure that I am. Everything has just come crashing down all at once.”

 

“What are you going to do?”

 

“I really don’t know”, she sighed as their starters were brought out.

 

“Do you want to stay with him?”

 

Hermione shook her head “But I can’t afford to leave him, I can’t afford the rent on a place alone, which is why we moved in together in the first place.”

 

Draco smiled to her encouragingly “I have a proposition for you. You can improve your financial and social standing, while getting the perfect revenge on that cheating scum, you call your boyfriend.”

 

“How?” Hermione asked intrigued.

 

“To put it simply, father and I think that you are the ideal candidate to be the next Mrs Malfoy.”

 

Hermione nearly choked on her wine. “Draco if this is some form of joke, it really isn’t funny.”

 

“I assure you, I’m perfectly serious.”

 

“I need some time, to think this through.”

Draco smiled at her warmly, “Of course. But in the meantime, I want you to come and stay with me; you need to get out of your flat.”

 

“You don’t mind?”

 

“No, the town house is a bit large for just me. It’s a bit lonely rattling around the place on my own.”  

 

“Thanks Malfoy” Hermione smiled gratefully.

 

“It’s ok. Just consider my offer.”

 

“But why, I… I don’t understand” she stammered “I would have thought I was the last person on earth you would want to marry. For one thing, I’m muggleborn”

 

“Being a completely pureblooded family is less than prudent these days” Draco worded delicately. “Father believes that we need some fresh blood in the family, so we don’t have the stigma of being falsely linked to the dark lord.”

 

Hermione raised an eyebrow “Falsely linked?”

 

Draco replied with a dark glare. “Keep your mouth shut. If you agree to this deal, you believe father was under the imperius.”

 

“It’ll kill Ron when he finds out” Hermione mused to herself.

 

“Don’t do this purely for revenge” Draco said suddenly and calmly “Because one day you are going to wake up and you wont be angry any more, and you may regret any descisions you will make.”

 

Draco called for the bill, and handed Hermione his address. “This is where you need to send your stuff to; I’ll wait by the fire to pick it up.”

 

Hermione nodded and apparated home, to find Ron sitting on the sofa flicking through a quidditch magazine, reading about the cannons latest victory.

 

He waited until she sat down on the couch beside him to greet her. “Hey”

 

“Hey” she whispered softly, “Ron we need to talk.”

 

“Sure, what about?” he sat up, giving her his full attention.

 

“Things haven’t been right with us for quite some time.”

 

“What are you trying to say Hermione?”

 

“It’s over Ron.” Tears sprang to her eyes “It just isn’t going to work.”

 

Ron didn’t offer any comeback, he just stood and stared as Hermione walked into the bedroom, packed up her things and left.

 

 

Continue

 


 

Authors Note – the quotes at the top are from W. H. Audens – O Telll Me the Truth About Love and Shakespeare’s sonnet 116 and can be viewed in their entirety here

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