A/N: I suppose this could be seen as a prequel of sorts to First Impressions, but you don't have to read the one to understand the other. The idea kind of popped into my head and wouldn't go away until I had written it - it's not going to be particularly long (probably five chapters at most), but it's starting to get a bit too much to be a one shot, so I decided to post in chapters.
Disclaimer: Don't own anything except the idea.
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He didn't think anybody else could have the same "work first, everything else later" attitude that Granger had. The kind that was fine when exams were just around the corner and he needed to cram for them, but had proven extremely annoying during the little time that he could spend with her without the two morons interrupting, when work was the last thing on his mind. He had put up with it, of course, there was simply no other way that they could be together without everybody else knowing, which neither of them had wanted at the time. Still, when all you had was a couple of stolen hours a week, you had to take what you could get. As the years had gone by, however, she had shown up less and less, and looked closer to the Weasel than ever, until finally, after the final battle she had gone to him, tears in her eyes, to tell him it was over, that she was with him.
He had just looked coldly at her and asked how something that had never actually started could be over.
From that moment he had severed all acquaintance with her.
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He had been in the main sitting room of Malfoy Manor, gazing into the flickering flames of the fire, when the doorbell rang. Calling for one of his house elves to answer it and tell whoever had come that he was not to be disturbed, he sat back, but the chiming just continued, the person the other side of the door becoming increasingly impatient. Muttering threats under his breath, he lifted himself from his chair and headed to answer it himself.
It had been years since he had seen her last, but there she was, on his doorstep. For a moment he just stood there silently, wondering whether he was seeing things. But then came the familiar timid smile, the nervous flick of the hair, the brown eyes filled with uncertainty.
"Can I come in?"
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He should have said no, should have closed the door the minute he had seen her, but something in him made it impossible. So he let her in, asked her to take a seat, got her a drink - everything a good host should do, everything he had been taught since he was a boy. They sat for a while in silence, although she kept looking at him as if she had something to say but had no idea how to say it. It was only when he grew tired of the silence and started to say something that she told him what she had gone there to say.
"He proposed."
She had said it so quickly that he had almost missed it. The silence returned for a few moments, he swirled the contents of his glass and she pretended to take interest in a large painting that hung above the mantlepiece.
"When?"
His voice was hoarse, as if he hadn't used it in months, and he took a swig of his drink to cool his throat.
"When what?"
"Don't play dumb, Hermione, it's not your style."
She sighed, knowing he was right but not wanting to admit it to herself.
"A couple of hours ago."
These words took him by surprise, and he stared at her blankly. She stood and walked around the room, inspecting the various items he had placed in display cabinets, running her finger along the spines of the leatherbound books that took pride of place in one cabinet. She didn't say anything more. He walked over to where she was standing and grabbed her wrist to turn her to face him.
"Then what are you doing here?" he asked bitterly. "I'm sure your fiancée is missing you."
"I didn't say yes."
"I thought things were going great between you two?"
"They are, that is, well, he's not perfect, obviously, but -"
"But you love him," he finished for her, and she nodded. "Which only further adds to the question of why you're here with me."
"I had to know..."
--
What happened next came as a blur. All he could remember was that after she had said those words, she had kissed him, taking him completely by surprise. He had not taken long to come to his senses and kiss her back, hoping that if he put enough passion into it she would stay with him, forget about the other guy. Hadn't she practically admitted to him that she was unsure? That she knew Ron wasn't necessarily the perfect man for her? He had led her over to the couch and lowered her down onto it, looked into her eyes as if to ask permission...
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When he had woken, the flames in the fireplace had nearly all faded, and he couldn't feel her body next to his, and he wondered whether he had merely dreamt what had just happened. Sitting up, he looked around the room and noticed her figure huddled in a chair near the fireplace, watching him. A smile came to his face, and he made his way over to her, bending down to kiss her once more, but she turned her head away from him, a look of guilt etched across her face.
"Are you okay?" he asked softly, perching himself on the arm of the chair, playing with a lock of her hair.
"That...we...that shouldn't have happened," she replied, the guilt now evident in her voice as well as her expression.
"I'm sorry - what?" This time his question was harsh, and he removed his hand from her hair, standing up so that he seemed to tower over her.
"I made a mistake."
"I'm still not getting what you're saying here, Granger."
She winced as he used her last name, the only time he ever did that was when he was angry, when first names were 'too personal' as he had put it once, when she asked him why he insisted on calling her Granger in front of everybody else, but Hermione when they were alone.
"I'm saying I shouldn't have come here tonight."
"So why did you?"
"I don't know," she said. "It's just...well with Ron asking me to marry him...and then I thought of you...I was just so confused."
"Well are you any less confused now? Because I'm sure as hell not."
"I just thought if I came here, I could get it all -"
"Out of your system?" She looked at him, shocked, but he just laughed hollowly and continued. "Couldn't be that you're just too afraid to say yes to your beloved Weasel, and this has nothing whatsoever to do with what we had, could it? You just subconciously made the decision to screw his worst enemy in the hope that he'll find out and take the proposal back anyway? All to solve your damn confusion, never mind who gets hurt in the process."
"It wasn't like that!"
"The hell it wasn't! You just thought you could come here after all this time and I wouldn't care, I'd just let it happen? I'd just let you use me for your stupid little games and then not be bothered when you went back to him?"
"No!"
"I think it's time you left."
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A/N: I'm going to post chapter two in a minute, because those are the two I've got written, but I'll probably alternate between this and First Impressions for a while afterwards, so I can't guarantee a speedy chapter 3.
Reviews?