It's funny, I said I wanted to quit smoking ages ago but here I am on my way to finish my first pack of the day. Now I don't have any intentions of stopping whatsoever. It's not that I could not stop myself. Those who said old habits die hard are weak-willed, and I, for certain, do not have that. Not anymore. It's not something that I can't control, it's something I just simply chose. There are plenty of things that are not good for us and yet we could not let go of. I have two.

The other being Hermione Granger. 28 years old. And a huge arsehole.

Now don't get me wrong, I'm an arsehole too. Far more worse than she is but no one's counting. It's not a bloody competition. This wretched attitude brought the two of us together. Not the war reform, nor the change in our beliefs. We were both scum of the earth who had no choice but to stick together.

"If you're not going to talk, you're wasting your money." She said, looking at the view of the London cityscapes on the balcony. I never much cared for Muggle things, but this was the most inconspicuous place we could hide from the world: on top of it, away from it all. Like people on exile.

"Got a lot of them to waste as I see fit."

She chuckled lowly. "And I've got an empty pocket with holes that will gladly accept it."

Lucky for me, I guess. I turned to her, leaning my elbow on the rails. Her features are more defined in the moonlight: hollow cheeks, puckered lips, and those almond eyes. It takes all of my willpower not to completely combust under the scrutiny of it. "How much more do you need?"

Her auburn eyes finally gazed at me. Somehow over time she has learned to conceal her emotions completely. From the flutter of her eyelashes to the pout of her mouth was polished into this impenetrable wall that nothing and no one can get past through. The vivacious, goody-two-shoes Granger was dead, and the person beside me is a stranger. A welcomed one, regardless of the reason. "Draco Malfoy, you don't know what you ask."

"I know perfectly well. Now tell me."

"If I named my price, would you give it to me?"

"Well, that depends."

"On what?"

"What you can do in return."

Her hands go to her hips, getting smaller by the week, the middle fingers almost touching. Her bony hands could either caress you or choke you and you wouldn't mind. "A hundred thousand dollars."

I let out a whistle. "Weasley's really milking you, huh?"

"That's what you get when you don't have a prenup." She shrugged as she stomped on her cigarette butt. "Please tell me you got Astoria to sign one."

"It doesn't matter. We believe in minding our own businesses. She has her own trust fund money and hedge funds, while I've got my own inheritance and the company."

"Well I've got to hand it to her because she's better at money than I do."

"Not to mention better at finding a husband as well." I said smugly. She shook her head with a small smile, which infected me as well. "What?"

"I'm just glad I'm not paid to agree with everything you say. Although does that get me a tip?"

"You could get a different kind of tip, but you have to be gentle first."

Hermione guffawed at this one. She's got a dirty mind now too. "Oh trust me, I can do gentle."

I watched as she bit her bottom lip, lingering there. I know that look, I just need to do one last small push. "Do you want me to get my checkbook? I can write it right now."

I stand up and move inside the mansion, which I will lose once Astoria and I finally move to the penthouse of one of my company's residential buildings. She said it was more private than an actual home. Quite frankly, I don't give a shit. I write on my check and go back to the balcony, her on her new stick. She looked at the paper in my hand and I extended it to her.

"How do I know that check won't bounce?"

"I'm an arse but I'm not a liar."

She eyed me and then slowly took the check from my hands, our fingers touching slightly. She reads it then puts it in her pocket. "So, what does Draco Malfoy want to do on his last day of being an unmarried man?"

This is not a story of two people reconciling their differences over time, finding it in their heart to fall in love with each other, and having a happy ending. This is no romantic novel. This is about two fucked up people trying to find a way to make life bearable and failing time and time again because the truth is they don't deserve it. And they know it all too well.

THE BEGINNING

Draco watched his parents as they had their first dinner in Merlin knew how long. It was his mother's idea, obviously. She heard from her circle of friends that families needed to at least eat a meal together once a week to keep it intact. And especially when their only son was to be married soon, making a family of his own, she wanted to bask on their last remaining moments together.

It's a little too late for that, if you asked him.

"Such a shame Astoria could not make it tonight." She declared.

"Yes, she's quite busy."

Not true. Draco didn't invite Astoria at all. One, she would have said yes, as she once did when she met them together for the first time. And two, they would have been highly uncharacteristic, wearing the façade they always wore in front of strangers. Draco didn't like those side of his parents at all. So pretentious, unreal… fake. He grew up knowing them as the cold, strict parents that they were and he was going to keep them that way. With strangers they were chatty, loud, and cheerful. Draco preferred the silence. Just like now. They sat in one table but it's as if they were all separated by a veil, pretending not to see or notice one another. He preferred it that way.

"And the business?" His father grunted.

"Well."

The utensils clanked at the porcelain plates. Her teaspoon clinked inside the cup as she stirred her tea. Even their breaths were amplified. Just as Draco liked it.

He wondered if this was married life was like. He has only his parents as reference, after all. The monotonous, tedious life until senility, through thick and thin and thinner, to the point of boredom, was what was ahead of him. He wasn't so sure if that was what he wanted at all.

Astoria was convenient. He didn't have to put on a romantic front for her. They spent a good three years casually going out to dinners, having sex, and meeting each other's acquaintances. And at some point after all those years, Astoria dropped the hint. So did her family. And Draco's as well. He thought why not. So one night, in the middle of dinner, Draco took her hand and placed an engagement ring on. And that was how they became engaged to be married. Simple, concise, and with lesser words as possible. Just as Draco liked it.

Eventually the dinner ended, and Draco left the mansion. Astoria was on a business trip for a few days, and he was left all to himself, which was not a problem for him.

He apparated to Muggle London, through the tube, and walked up the stairs with his hands on his pockets. The crisp evening air touched his cheek as he wandered aimless through the streets. His feet somehow made him reach to the red light district, quite alive at this time of night. He went through one of the doors and sat on one of the booths all to himself. He could have called Blaise of Theo, but he needed his time alone. Just as Draco liked it.

An obvious man dressed as a woman comes on stage and announces something on the microphone. Draco couldn't care less, focusing on the glass of scotch in his hand, until he sees someone quite familiar.

It wasn't her. It couldn't be. He must be drunk but he wasn't. So it must be real.

She was wearing a black wig, cut to her chin. The red sequined dress flowed down to her bare legs as she sat on a wooden horse, the carousel turning. He shook his head and waited for it to come back. For her to come back. He stood up from his booth and waited.

Hermione Granger waved at the people with a smirk on her face, touching her bare skin, when her eyes landed on his. Her face dropped but returned when she looked away. It was real. She was real. Draco sat down and looked back at his drink, finding it hard to breathe. What world has he gone into? He drank all the contents of his glass and ordered for another round.

After an hour, something tapped his shoulders and he turned around. And there she was. In the flesh.

"What in blazes is Draco Malfoy doing in Muggle London?" She said with a stern face before breaking into a small smile. "Can I sit?"

"Please do." His eyes roamed all over her just to make sure once more. "I must be dreaming or I have gone mad."

She chuckled. "It was either up there or waiting the tables. There's less… body contact when you work up the stage."

"I can't believe you work here."

"It's only a side job. I needed the money."

"Yes, I've heard about it." He paused. "I didn't think the Weasel had it in him."

She shrugged. "You should know by now that life can be full of—", she gestured to herself—"surprises."

"Yes, I see that now."

She straightened her back. "Oh, I almost forgot. Congratulations on your engagement. Astoria Greengrass, well done."

"Thank you."

They looked around the busy bar, as men of all ages either drank or groped women.

"Can you wait for me? I just need to pack up and I'm done for tonight."

Draco would have preferred to be alone drinking. Then he would go back to his flat and lie on his bed. He wouldn't get a wink of sleep as most nights. Then when the sunlight comes, he would get up and do it all over again. His plans were set, his will determined, but something else came out of his mouth.

"Sure."

After some time, she came back, and all was right in the world once more. She looked exactly as he had remembered, except her auburn curls were shorter, just around her shoulders. Her face was bare of the intense makeup she had earlier, her freckle evident from the red lights of the bar. She was covered in her beige coat, a contrast from her revealing dress earlier. Yes, the earth has slightly returned back to its former axis. "Shall we go?"

They walked down the city streets opposite each other. Never in a million years and in different timelines and parallel universes did he think that it was possible to be walking with her without arguing or exchanging glares, and yet they were. Something wasn't quite right with the world yet. Was he having an elaborate dream? Perhaps he fell asleep at the Malfoy Mansion after dinner? Maybe he's at home, finally getting some shuteye? Because it was the only solution to this elaborate, impossible situation he was in.

"Do you want to get some coffee? I know a place, we're pretty close already."

He eyes her quizzically. "A coffee at this late hour?"

"Well, I've got another job actually. I could use the caffeine fix."

"What job is it this time?"

She looked at him suspiciously. "Curious, aren't you? Well, you know I need all the money I can get." She turned his way. "My day job is barely helping me pay for it, not to mention my rent and utilities."

"I understand you live separately now?"

Hermione nodded. "I chose to live in Muggle London so there are less eyes on me. Although I still go there for my day job, but since I have become a social pariah, it has been… unpleasant." She stopped. "We're here."

They sat across each other, nursing cups in hand. They looked at each other amicably, like strangers. They were, in a way. They were never close during Hogwarts years, in fact the closest contact they had was when her knuckles landed on his nose. The rest they spent on opposite sides of each spectrum or not acquainted at all. So how did they get here?

"So, what brings you to Muggle London?" She asked. "And at that district, no less."

He shrugged. "Just wandered there, really."

"And does your fiancée know you're here?"

"We don't meddle with each other's affairs."

"So when she's away…?" Her eyebrows rose.

"Goodness no. I usually go a different route, back to my apartment."

Her eyes widened. "You have a flat in Muggle London?"

"I get what you meant about having less eyes on you here. Although it is quite hard to be subtle, you get used to it eventually."

"Yes, I can imagine." He gazed at her and she gaped for a moment. "Well, cultural bias aside, it's like living abroad. Everything is different."

"Yes, after witnessing tonight, it is." Draco could not help but smile as she laughed. After a moment of silence, he added. "Is it necessary? To take those odd jobs?"

"It's only fair. I don't exactly entirely belong here now do I? I don't feel like I belong in the Wizarding World either. I'm just… caught in the middle." She used her stirrer. "Plus, I find it hard sleep these days. Might as well make it productive."

"I have the same problem as well." He sipped as she showed her surprise. "It's true, I just lay in bed for Merlin knows how long, and the next thing you know it's morning."

"Why don't you try a sleeping potion?"

"Why don't you?"

They both nodded in understanding.

"I should get to my other job." She put the sling of her duffel bag on her shoulder and took out her hand. "It was nice seeing you. Really."

Draco didn't know what came over him at that moment. He wasn't drunk, insane, or spellcasted. But something foreign came out of his mouth that even it surprised him when he said, "How about I pay you?"

"Sorry?"

"Spend the night with me. I'll pay you more than your other job."

Her face wrinkled in confusion and balled up anger, a face he was quite familiar with. "What—"

"Not that way, no. Just to talk. I'll pay double."

She slightly shook her head. "You are willing to spend money," she counts with her fingers. "To spend the night to talk? To me? Why?"

"Triple."

This time she laughed. "Have you lost your mind?"

"No. Yes. Maybe." He didn't let her go. "What do you say?"

Her eyes watched him, scrutinized him, to which he was not surprised by. He didn't know why he said those things. Maybe he was rich and had money to spend, and she was broke and needed it. Maybe he pitied her for the circumstances she was in. Maybe he wanted to feel powerful, and seeing the desperation in her, he wanted to take advantage of it. One thing was for sure, it wasn't the most noblest of intentions.

The lack of control, the certainty, with her answer and the situation, caused something to flip inside of him. For the first time in a while, he was unsettled. He knew what he wanted with his family, with Astoria, with his life. And he got them, and he intended them to stay that way. But somehow the mystery of Hermione moving to sit back down on her seat was the most uncertain thing he had at that moment.

And Merlin's beard, by some miracle, he liked it.

Hello everyone! It's been a while since I last wrote a fanfic, and to be honest, this one took a while to start. Life's been really busy but there is always time for Dramione AM I RIGHT?!

I'm also a little open-ended with how the story will unfold, but I am quite certain how it will end. Let me know what you think. Until the next chapter. x