Disclaimer: Of course since I'm not J.K. Rowling, I do not own the Harry Potter universe and do not make any profits from writing this fic. Thank you, Ms. Rowling, for allowing us to write about your characters!
Notes: I found this in an old notebook and I don't hate it so I decided to post it. It doesn't feel finish so I'm going to have to add more to it. Problem is I am not sure how to continue the story, so if any of you have any suggestions, feel free.
I hope you like it. Please point out mistakes and such, I am pretty hopeless at finding them. Either way, I'm going to have to tinker here and there.
Chapter one: Overture
It was the symphony of their meeting. A gasp; a turn of the head; an incredulous smile. Whisps of her hair following the crisp autumn breeze; the chatter all around them that settled in a mellow mezzo-forte; his heartbeat an irregular staccato.
"I love you" - didn't they use to tell each other that? Always with a giggle and a smirk, and only with all the solemness a teenager could muster, but they both knew they meant it.
Where are they now?
Outside a potion's shop; him with a wedding ring around his finger; her in immaculate purple robes, head tilted to the side, a coy smile plastered on her face.
He keeps his tone light, she's careful to keep her distance and only bats her eyelashes twice; he is, after all, a married man now.
"Congratulations!" she exclaims, as if she only just found out (as if she didn't force Millicent to spit out all the details; all the details the taller and bigger girl could remember until she had to rub at her forehead and urge her friend to, "Stop. Stop it, Pansy.")
"Thank you," he says politely and smiles because he's supposed to, but there's a feeling of unrest that's dangerously close to taking root in his chest and he's seized with momentary panic.
She beams at him and there is a pause in their conversation; a half rest. She makes a sound in the back of her throat, a sentence stopped just before it could be uttered in intelligible sounds; she doesn't know what to say either.
It's funny, he thinks, how it had never been like this before, between the two of them.
She settles on the norm and the accepted, "you know, it really has been too long!"
Draco nods. Inwardly he thinks "too long" is somehow an understatement for seven years of no correspondance.
He stuffs his hands in his pockets.
They were having a polite conversation; they kept their tones and inquiries polite.
He rummages his brain for something to say; something that can play along to this theme of a polite reunion. The same sentences he would have uttered to the likes of Susan Bones; so as not to shatter the illusion that their past did not exist, an illusion made neccessary by the gold that glinted on his ring finger.
Draco had been the one to spot her first.
She was browsing the store adjacent to the potion's shop where he had picked up his order. He was on his way to the Apparition spot, to apparate home. To his new wife who was still getting acquainted with the Malfoy Manor and was going through a walk-over with his mother. But his legs had been unable to take another step further; it was as if someone had hit him with Petrificus Totalus.
There was a moment where he tried to think of what he should do next. Did their relationship end in a friendly manner? Or had it been a nasty break-up?
It really had been too long.
So long that even with the close relationship they had once shared, when he and his then fiancée were signing wedding invitations, his hand, already poised with the quill, hesitated at signing her name. Ulitmately, her invitation ended up in the bin.
(Not that he would have known where to find her anyway.)
Then there was no time to think, because she had glanced up from the wares she was browsing, and her eyes found him right away.
He hesitated, eyes automatically scanning the place for an emergency exit, but her lips were already curved in a smile, "Draco!"
At the sound of her voice, he found himself drenched in nostalgia. He'd heard that voice call him before, countless times. In different tones and manners. In completely different circumstances. He's also heard his name spoken in the exact same tone and the exact same lift of the eyebrows.
It surprised him how much of an impact it made on him.
Then she was walking towards him. There was a glint in her eyes and a smile tugging at her lips. In the few steps it took her to close the distance between him and her, he took the time to study her. She was slightly taller, he imagined, more confident and had an air of maturity about her. But everywhere there were traces of the Pansy he'd grown up with.
Still, it was like seeing her for the very first time. For everything he already knew about her, and everything she knew about him, it was like they'd been given blank slates for new first impressions. Seven years to change them into two completely different individuals.
A new beginning.
And she looked so beautiful in the golden light of the sun that, he found, he was suddenly self-conscious of the paleness of his skin and his receding hairline.
Yet he straightened himself up and managed a smirk.
He also realized, with sudden clarity; they'd never ended it at all.
In the present, Draco finally decides he needs to reply, and settles on an answer he hopes is diplomatic enough. "Yeah, been busy I guess," he says. It sounded silly even to his ears.
Displaying polite curiousity he treads carefully, "What brings you back to England?"
She looks away, a hand reaching up to tuck wayward strands of hair behind her ear. "I never really left England..." she says criptically, her eyes tracing something over his shoulder before settling back on him. Her voice goes back to chirpy and confident, "I'm here for my book tour."
"Ah," he nods.
Then confusion reaches him as his brain finally registers her words. "A book tour?"
This time there's a slight discomfort in the smile she's so willing to share. "Yeah, I'm a published author now. If you haven't heard of it..." she raises a hand, clearly embarassed, "I'd rather not give you a summary."
Her sheepishness makes him wonder what exactly she writes about.
He must have looked funny to her because the next second she's turning away slightly; glances at him from the corner of her eye and laughs.
He finds himself chuckling. "A book with dubious content?"
Her grin is accompanied with a glint in her eye. "Well, that's exactly why we're doing a book tour, so that we can get the book out to the uninformed."
Her teasing tone takes him back to their school days, but he isn't that same school boy anymore; He's not sure how to respond.
But she doesn't wait for a response either. Instead, she glances at her watch and says, "Speaking of..." She shrugs and turns meaningfully.
He nods. "Of course."
"I'll-" she hesitates. "I'll see you around."
Even though her tone is laced with uncertainty, it sounds almost like a promise.
She flashes him another smile and turns with a wave of the hand over her shoulder.
He waves at her retreating back.
His eyes follow her until she disappears among the busy crowd. Feeling light-headed all of a sudden, he reaches up to place the heel of his palm against his temple. His face feels warm and his body feels drained for some reason.
When his hand touches his face, he's surprised that his fingers trace a genuine, wide smile.
P.S. Page breaks are so troublesome!