Hermione Granger knew what it was like to be alone. She had grown up alone, no siblings to tease her or for her to confide in. Sure, she had many neighborhood friends, and the kids in her year at primary school, but somewhere, in the back of her mind, she always knew she was built to be alone.
The Second Wizarding War had taken its toll on her emotionally. While she assisted Harry in searching for the remaining horcruxes, occasionally with Ron's help, she resented being forced to grow up too quickly. They were barely legal adults in the Wizarding world, let alone in the muggle world, which she found herself missing more and more over the years.
Hermione had made the brave decision to start over. Her parents were still living in Australia; their memories now returned, they decided the lives they had been living had a certain appeal far from the bustle of London. Harry and Ginny were constantly on the go, between her busy quidditch practices and his constant work. She had barely spoken to either of them in the last four years.
Her thoughts began drifting to Ron. Oh, Ron. She thought he had been the love of her life. When they kissed in the Chamber during the Final Battle, she was certain he would never leave her. Yet, when the adrenaline rush faded and the rubble had been cleared, he found himself seeking solace for the ones they had lost by throwing himself into the newfound stardom. Yes, she thought bitterly, he can't got a solid week without appearing on Witch Weekly's cover with some young, pretty thing on his arm.
She had expected them to adjust to being the most famous Wizard-folk alive in different ways. Their personalities were always so different, anyway. When Hermione realized that she had seen the flash of enough cameras, been owled for enough interviews, and had done enough charity work in the name of those they had lost, she had nowhere to turn. That had been three years ago. Ron never understood, of course. He constantly told her that if people stopped talking about them, about the War, people would forget, and if people forgot… well, they would forget Fred. And Tonks. And Lupin.
Hermione had understood. Their faces constantly haunted her nightmares. She missed her friends more than she could ever express. She constantly felt heavy with the weight of everything she had seen in her eighteen years.
So she ran.
Three years ago, Hermione Granger picked up her life and ran away. She had decided to travel the world, claiming to be doing research to understand the differences in how Wizard-folk around the world lived. But when she would lay in bed, late in the night, she couldn't deny one thing: she ran because she had to, because she needed to know there were parts of the world untouched by war.
Draco was certain his head would explode. His fiancée kept changing her mind. First it was the date, then the location, then the colors, then the location again…. Would it ever end?
He had told Astoria that she could plan whatever type of wedding she wanted, he only had one requirement: no reporters. This had caused another argument, of course. How could she, on the most important day of her life, not be photographed for the front page of every Wizard newspaper and gossip magazine she had heard of? After all, it befits a Malfoy bride, and didn't Draco want to show he was marrying the best for his station in life?
She had even tried to trick him into circumventing his own rule. Her first three locations had been glaringly public, without any real reasoning. Who gets married in the middle of Diagon Alley, with a reception at the damn Leaky Cauldron? He snorted, remembering how earnestly she tried to convince him that it just "made sense" since their first date had been in Diagon Alley.
Today she had tried to convince him that some no-name photographer from Witch Weekly was the biggest up and coming photographer in the Wizarding world and they just hadto have him do their wedding photos.
That was when he walked out. He had found himself circling a familiar part of the Manor's expansive grounds. As a boy, he had played here often while his mother tended her small garden. The flowers had been magically charmed by him to stay alive and exactly how he remembered them looking.
He missed his mother. In the aftermath of the War, they had decided it would be best if his mother and father did some traveling. While the charges against them had been dropped thanks to Harry Potter's testimony of how Narcissa lied to the Dark Lord saving all of their lives, Draco knew it would be difficult for the Malfoy name to be taken seriously if his father was still the head of the family.
This was why he didn't want any press at his nuptials. Hell, he wouldn't even be marrying Astoria if he had a better option. Her family had remained out of the fray, declaring for neither side in the war, and therefore marrying her was a strategic move on his part to continue building his business. She was beautiful, sure, but she could never offer him an intellectual challenge.
He found himself thinking of Granger. He had never found her attractive no, but her intelligence could never be denied. She always rose to his challenges. Sure, he had been taught that those of muggle birth were below him, but he could not deny that she was, in fact, superior to him in every way but one. Bookworm Granger and brooms. He laughed remembering the moment he first noticed her: first year during flying lessons. Having flown for as long as he could remember, even the worn brooms of Hogwarts responded instinctively to him. He watched her for a few weeks after that. She was so quick witted, he never would have known she was muggleborn, not from the way his father had described their kind at least.
Draco took a seat on the bench outside his mothers garden, thinking back to the day he saw Granger paling around with Potter and Weasley. He knew, then, that he could never befriend her. But he never would have teased her as much as he did if it hadn't been for the fact it was the easiest way to anger Weasley.
A loud pop brought him back from his thoughts. Blinky, his favorite house elf, had appeared in front of him looking nervous.
"What is it now? Are the centerpieces not large enough?" Draco sighed.
"Miss is very upset," Blinky began twisting his uniform in his hands, "She says if Master isn't going to give her what she wants, she doesn't want to be his wife."
Draco could tell the elf had overheard this, but was not told to seek him out. The elf had always had a soft spot for Draco, and had always tried to prevent him from hurt.
"Blinky, go to the kitchens and oversee dinner preparations," Draco said as he patted the elf's head. Standing, he stretched his arms over his head. This was going to be a long night.
Hermione woke up with a sore neck. That's what I get for sleeping on a plane, she muttered. She could have apparated, sure, but she had been using magic less and less over the last three years and wasn't sure she could successfully make it back to London without splinching herself.
The hotel she stayed in last night hadn't been much more comfortable than the plane. Though, maybe that was because she felt incredibly tense about returning to England after being away for so long. That had to be it.
She took a quick shower, amazed at how much quicker her morning routine could be now that she had cut her once-long locks into a short and manageable bob. Wiping the steam from the mirror with her hand, she noticed the dark circles under her eyes and reached for her wand to magic them away.
Staring at her reflection with her now-dry hair, she couldn't help but remember Malfoy's incessant teasing about how bushy it had been at Hogwarts. Strange, she thought, I haven't even had a fleeting thought about him since the Final Battle, it must be being back here, she mused as she started getting dressed.
She wasn't sure why she had come back. It hadn't really been a conscious decision. She had been traveling through America for the last year, taking in the sights and making new friends with wizards over there, but she just missed London.
Christmas was coming, only three weeks away, and she chalked the decision to return up to the fact she hadn't seen a London Christmas in ages. With one last glance at her appearance, making sure all evidence of her exhaustion was masked, Hermione Granger made her way downstairs and out of the Leaky Cauldron.