A Change of Heart

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Chapter 10: The Police Station:

On that Saturday night, Hermione had rescheduled her date with Draco. He had a lot of last minute details that needed his attention, after all, it wasn’t easy changing everything around to accommodate the change of days. He had planned on taking Hermione to Paris. He was casually going to ask her if she liked French food. If she said “yes”, then he would mention that he knew of the perfect place to go where they could get the best French food. If she said “no”, then he would say that he knew the perfect place to change her mind.

It would be very romantic. He booked a room at a five star Muggle hotel. He thought they would spend the night, but of course. He thought it was hilarious that he was nervous about “their first date”, when they had technically been seeing each other for over two weeks. If she cancelled again he would hunt her down and kill her like a dog. Not really, but he would be royally put out.

By early afternoon most of the date was planned, and there was still four hours until their date, so Draco decided to go to his closet in search of the perfect outfit for tonight. He had probably over a thousand suits, but none of them would do. He decided to go buy a new suit, just for tonight. He went to a Muggle mall. He actually liked shopping there, although he would never admit as much.

Once at the mall, he looked around the men’s department, when he saw Mr. Granger’s wife, Bernice. She had her arm interlaced with an older gentleman’s arm, which even from a distance, Draco could tell wasn’t Hermione’s dad. He ducked behind a display to take another peek. Hermione’s step-mum was now kissing this man’s cheek. There was no way to explain this, except for that fact that she was cheating on Hermione’s dad. She probably did have ulterior motives for marrying the man. What should he do?

If Draco told Hermione it would ruin their evening. If he didn’t tell her, no harm would be done. Draco didn’t want to ruin his evening. What to do, what to do? He watched as this man and this Bernice woman walked out of the department store, holding hands.

Draco left as well. He felt like one of those Muggle private investigators. He squinted his eyes to focus on what they were doing now. She was kissing him. Yuck. Draco casually walked toward them. When he was close enough to speak, he did. “Mrs. Granger, hello, do you remember me? I’m your step-daughter’s friend, Draco.” Bernice looked like someone took all the wind out of her sails.

She looked at the man she was with, and then at Draco, and said, “I think you have the wrong person.” She tried to pull the man she was with away.

Draco followed and said, “Your name is Bernice, isn’t it?” She turned back and gave Draco a steely glare.

The man with her said, “How do you know my wife?” Wow! His wife.

“I know your wife because she's also the wife of a very good friend of mine’s dad.” So there.

Bernice was very angry. She rushed Draco, and started hitting him like a banshee. Draco tried to defend himself. If there weren’t so many Muggles around, and if he had the forethought to have brought his wand with him, this woman would have been on the receiving end of a very nasty hex or two. As it was, all Draco could do was hold his hands in front of his face. He must protect his face at all cost.

More and more people gathered around as he was backing farther away from the crazy woman. He tripped backwards over an abandoned shopping bag, and fell directly on his back. Soon, the Muggle police were called. The Police took Draco and Bernice in for questioning, to find out exactly what happened.

It was around 6:25 pm, and Hermione was getting ready for her date with Malfoy, when her phone rang. Deciding that nothing would ruin her date this time, and knowing that the only person who ever called her on the phone was her dad, she debated whether or not to answer. Should she answer or not? He probably wanted to invite her on holiday with him and Bernice. She wouldn’t answer the phone.

The phone rang again, ten minutes later. It continued to ring off and on for the next half an hour. She didn’t care. She finally took the bloody thing off the hook. At exactly 7pm, she stood by her front door, and waited for Malfoy. She knew he hated to be late for anything. He would pick her up any second.

At 7:15 pm, Hermione was a little concerned.

At 7:30 pm, Hermione was a little worried.

At 7:45 pm, Hermione was a bit peeved.

At 8:00 pm, Hermione was completely unhinged.

And at 8:15 pm, Hermione was regretting the day she ever met Draco Malfoy. She put her phone back on the hook, and started up the stairs, when the phone rang immediately. She went to answer. No reason not to now.

“Hello,” Hermione answered.

“Where the fuck have you been?” said the voice on the other end. She wasn’t completely sure who it was. It sounded slightly like Draco.

“Draco?” she asked.

“No, it’s that Pinocchio chap you keep talking about!” he yelled.

“Why are you calling me on the phone?”

“How else can I call you?”

“Where are you?”

“I’m at a police station!”


“Who cares? Come fetch me.”

“Are you at the Ministry?”

“Granger, try for one moment to put your intelligence to work. I said I was at a Police Station. Would I be using a telephone at the Ministry of Magic? No. So, one might deduced from those two things that I’m at a bloody Muggle Police Station!”

All of the sudden, another man came on the phone. “Miss Granger, could you please come get him right away. We can’t stand one more minute of him,” said the officer on the phone. He told Hermione which police station they had Draco, and she got in her car, and drove there quickly. She thought it would be better to drive, rather than Apparate.

When she entered the station, she saw a very foul looking Draco, sporting a black eye and a cut lip, handcuffed to a chair in the corner.

She went to the front desk and said, “I’m here for Mr. Malfoy.”

“Thank God!” exclaimed the officer at the desk.

“Is he under arrest?” she asked, “Do I need to get bail money?”

“Oh no, he’s not been charged with anything. We had to restrain him, because he was acting like a, well, how shall I say this…” the man’s voice trailed off and Hermione finished his sentence for him.

“Like a first class arse-hole?” she asked.

“I was going to say ‘prick’, but I didn’t want to use that type of language in front of you,” the man laughed. “We also thought maybe he was slightly mentally unbalanced.” Hermione smiled at that statement.

All of the sudden Draco said, “If I had my wand, this whole place would be cursed off the face of the planet!” Hermione rushed up to him and put her hand over his mouth.

“Draco, don’t make threats in a police station. They take that very seriously,” Hermione whispered.

The same officer came up to them, unlocked Draco’s handcuffs, and said, “Oh, he keeps making threats about magic wands, and hexes, and all sort of crazy things. We were going to call in a psychiatric consult, but frankly, we didn’t want him around that long.”

Draco stood up, and brushed off his trousers. “Get me out of this hellhole, Hermione. Right now.” He turned to the officers and others sitting in the station and said, “I hope you all rot in hell.”

Hermione turned to them all, and said, “I’m sorry. He must be having one of his delusional episodes. He’s harmless, really.” She followed Draco out the door.

He was walking back and forth in front of the station. When she came out, he said, “Why didn’t you answer your effing phone? I tried calling all night!”

“I thought it was my dad. No one else ever calls me. My magical friends send messages by Floo or Owl. Tell me, what the hell's going on, and how did you know my number anyway?”

“Can we leave first?” he asked with a sneer.

Hermione headed toward her car, and he got in the other side.

She drove about a block away, but curiosity got the best of her, and she had to pull to the side. “Tell me what you were doing at the police station,” she quizzed.

“It’s entirely your fault,” he said without explanation.

“How is it my fault?”

“Your stupid wanker father and his stupid bint of a wife,” he said, still not making any sense to Hermione.

She put her head on the steering wheel and took a deep breath. She turned to face him again, and said, “Please, stay calm, and start at the beginning.

He told her how he went to the mall this afternoon to buy a new suit, how he saw Bernice and some man, how he confronted her, (And by the way, did Hermione know she was already married, because she was,) and how Bernice assaulted him, and how they both were taken to the police station. He said that witnesses told the police he was attacked unprovoked, but they wouldn’t just let him leave on his own, because apparently he was acting unstable or some such shite.

Hermione sat in the car, listening to the whole story, with her hands covering her mouth. She didn’t know what to say.

“Oh, and Bernice called your dad, and he bailed her out, and he gave me your phone number to call you,” Draco finished.

“Why would my dad bail her out? Did he know about the other man?” Hermione inquired.

Draco shrugged his shoulders, and said, “I've no idea, and don’t bloody well give a damn.”

Hermione looked out at the road. She then looked at the dark sky above. “Draco, you were right. I really should have hexed her in the beginning. My poor dad has been so lonely, and I’m always too busy for him. I feel like this is my fault. I should have done something.”

“Don’t play the martyr, Granger, it’s not becoming. Your father's a grown man, and he has to make his own decisions, and his own mistakes,” Draco chastised.

“Why did you confront her in the first place?” Hermione asked.

“I wasn’t going to, and it was against my better judgment. I guess some of your morals are rubbing off on me,” he said, as he actually started rubbing his hands up and down his arms, as if to rub off her morals.

“Well, this is interesting. What do I do now?” she said, more to herself than to him. She got out of the car, and started walking.

Draco shouted, “Granger, get back here right now!” He got out of the car to follow.

He came up beside her, and grabbed her hand. “You were right; we really should have hexed her when we had the chance,” he said to her.

She turned to face him and smiled. With the light of the streetlamp, she could see the bruise near his eye shining like a beacon in the night. She put her hand on his face, and with her index finger, she outlined the bruise. He flinched slightly. She took a deep breath and said, “I hate that woman more than ever now. She beat up my boyfriend.”

He pulled Hermione in his arms, and said in her ear, “Am I your boyfriend?”

“Yes,” she said softly.

“I probably could have taken her if I had my wand,” he said, half-joking.

“Yes, I’m sure you could have,” she gleamed back with a smile.

He then said, “Feel my muscles. I have large muscles.” She laughed and felt his arms. She made a funny face.

“I’ve got bigger muscles than that,” she bragged. He took her arm, pulled her coat sleeve up slightly, and pinched her lower arm. She yelped.

“I’m not above beating up a woman, I’ll tell you that,” he said.

“Then you should have started with Bernice, not me,” she lectured. “I’m pretty sure I could take you in a fair fight. You’re too much of a pretty boy; one might even say, a sissy.” She ran away from him, heading back toward the car. He chased her and caught her before she could get the door opened. He pushed her roughly up against the car and put his legs between hers, and pressed his body hard against hers.

“Apologize for questioning my manhood, Granger,” he said in a low voice.

Instead, she leaned forward and slowly kissed his lips. She ran her tongue along the corners, and then opened his mouth with hers and kissed him for all it was worth.

He pulled away from her, and then he kissed her ear, and said, “Let’s go have our first date. It’s not too late. Paris is the city that never sleeps.”

She pulled out of his arms, and with a look of surprise, and asked, “You were going to take me to Paris?”

“I still am, if you’re game,” he answered.

“Nah, it’s so late. Let’s just go back to my house. We’ll do something nice tomorrow. It’s Sunday after all. Maybe we could go to a museum.”

“Wow, remind me not to let you plan any of our dates. A museum. I can hardly contain my excitement,” Draco drawled.

She got in the car, just as he was opening the door on the other side, and she said, “I thought you liked my cerebral side.”

He leaned over and said, “You changed your mind about liking my sense of humour, so I’ve changed my mind about liking your mind.”

“What do you like best about me now, on the whole?” she inquired.

“I’m really starting to take a shine to this car. Perhaps you’ll have to teach me to drive.” He stroked the upholstery softly, back and forth.

“Why don’t you two get a room?” she joked as she started the engine.

They arrived at her house, entered her back door, and he said, “What happened to all the flowers?”

She laughed and said, “I could hardly keep them forever. I kept a few; they’re in vases throughout the house. Are you hungry? I could make you some eggs.”

He nodded and sat down. She went to her fridge and took out three eggs. She proceeded to crack the eggs in a bowl. Suddenly, she felt Malfoy standing behind her. He reached around her, and put one hand on her hip and the other on the front of her neck. He started kissing the side of her neck.

“What did you have on tonight? For our date? I bet you looked sexy,” he whispered. She tried to turn around to face him, but he kept her steady in front of him. She gripped the counter in front of her. He continued to kiss her neck. He moved her hair to the side, and kissed the back of her neck. He moved his hands down her arms and then back up. “Hermione,” he said so softly. She might have imagined the whole thing. Maybe he didn’t say anything.

She shut her eyes. “Do you still want your eggs?” she asked. He snickered and said something about wanting her instead, but she wasn’t sure exactly what he said.

He now had one hand creeping up the front of her t-shirt. He rubbed his fingertips playfully across her stomach. His other hand was across her chest, holding her shoulder.

He was biting her shoulder now. He moved the hand that was on her stomach lower, so that it was at the top of her jeans. She arched her back slightly, a reflex, so that her bum was closer to his legs. His hand playfully inched below her waistband. The other hand went under her shirt, and pushed aside her bra. He played with the nub of her breast, pinching it slightly. His other hand sunk lower still, to the outside of her knickers. He found her sweet spot, and he started to play a time honoured song that brought musicians everywhere to their knees.

She was moaning softly. He was as well. He positioned his legs between hers, so she couldn’t put her legs together. She was standing on her toes, to grant him better access. She was leaning forward so far that he had to pull her back. His hand slipped inside her panties now. The other hand had pushed her bra up and was playing a different melody on her bare breasts. She wanted to turn around to face the person who was playing a symphony with her soul. That was what she wanted, but he was preventing her from her goal.

He was still kissing her neck. He had been sucking on it gently, but the more she moaned, the harder he bit down. She was now crying, “Oh, oh.” Her legs could no longer hold her weight. He had her practically leaning completely against the counter, with his full weight on her back. Finally, she began to climax, and he stopped moving his hand, although he didn’t remove it. He held her, with her back against him, until her climax ended. He had to physically hold her up. He was breathing as hard as she was.

Finally, he permitted her to turn around to face him. She was flushed. He was sweating. She kissed him long and hard. She forced her tongue inside his mouth and moved her hands roughly in his hair. She pressed her core as close to his center as she could. She needed more. Much more. He removed his shirt, and she removed hers. He backed up against her table, and pulled her up to him, between his legs. She unzipped his pants, and put her hands inside. He started to pull her pants down.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.

NOOOOO!!! They both thought at the same time. For a moment, Draco stopped, and looked in the direction from which the sound came. Hermione ignored the knocking. She was still in the heat of passion. As the knocking continued, Draco had to physically push her away.

“The door,” he said breathlessly.

Hermione shook her head no.

Draco sat up from the table, and zipped his pants. He threw her shirt to her. He picked his up from the floor and started to put it on as he walked toward her front door. He answered the door, and saw Harry Potter of all people.

“Where’s Hermione?” Harry asked.

Unable to speak, Draco pointed to the kitchen. He could only hope that Hermione had righted herself enough to receive visitors. Draco stayed in the living room. He didn’t want Scarhead to see his current state. Suddenly he heard Hermione yell, “No!” He rushed to the kitchen. Hermione had collapsed in Potter’s arm. Draco raised his eyebrows, as a question to Potter.

Harry said, “Hermione’s dad just died.”

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