Heartbreak

It was raining torrentially in London, and it seemed that Diagon Alley was about to be swept away, as streams and rivulets of water ran down the cobbled street and pooled around Gringotts, where a makeshift bridge of rough planks had been created by two maintenance wizards to allow shoppers to get to their vaults. The little shopping street was almost empty, the few people who had braved the rain dashing from shop to shop under cloaks and umbrellas.

Florean Fortescue had been expecting to not serve anyone at all that Saturday. Through the winter his shop served coffee and hot bagels as well as ice-cream, but even so he didn't think anyone would be stopping off in the rain. So he was very surprised when from behind his copy of the Daily Prophet he heard the bell of his shop door ring, and he lowered his paper to see Hermione Granger walking into the shop, shaking water out of her thick hair.

Feeling rather bemused, he nevertheless served her order of a bowl of chocolate, raspberry, cherry, and toffee icecream scoops. He'd always liked Hermione Granger, always finding her polite and well-behaved ever since she was a child, and as she seemed upset about something he gave her extra large scoops and added some chopped peanuts and strawberry coulis to the top of the mountain of icecream.

He was now pretending not to watch her as she sat outside alone at a table, seeming not to notice the fact that she was being steadily soaked as the umbrella over the table gave little or no protection from the battering elements. He made a mental note to replace the table umbrellas with better ones at the next opportunity.

He'd soon find out why Hermione Granger was quite so upset as the front page of the Daily Prophet a few days later was emblazoned with the headline "WEASLEY-GRANGER ENGAGEMENT BROKEN - Has The Celebrity Couple Parted Forever?" When he read it he felt sorry for the nice, polite girl, and thought privately how he'd always believed her to be too good for that Weasley boy, whether or not he was a war hero.

After a while he stopped watching her and went into his back room to do some cleaning and categorizing of his stocks, so he didn't notice when a tall, thin young man stopped in the street opposite the shops, and then after a pause threaded his way between the empty tables to sit down at the table where Hermione Granger was sat.

'Hello, Granger.'

Hermione froze, her spoon hovering above the boule of raspberry ice-cream she was about to attack. As if her day could get any worse. Of all the people she wanted to see at this moment, Draco Malfoy was firmly occupying third from the bottom. Right at the bottom was her ex-fiance and the slut of a co-worker she'd found him shagging in the storeroom of Weasley Wizard's Wheezes.

'What are you doing here, Malfoy?' she asked, shoving her spoon into the raspberry icecream.

'Do you mean here as in Diagon Alley, or here as in sat at this table talking to you? Or, if you want to go existential, here as in sentient and occupying a corporeal form? I am the latter one because I have not yet died, I am here in Diagon Alley to get some gold from my bank and buy some books, and I am sat at this table because I noticed the great Hermione Granger was sat alone in the rain in an empty cafe eating ice-cream in October.'

She looked up and scowled at him, but to her surprise she saw none of the usual sneering or malice in his face, but what seemed to be genuine interest and concern. Before she'd quite thought it through, she was spilling out the whole story to him. And when she finished, he didn't laugh or say something cruel, but just the foulest insult for her ex-fiance she'd ever heard. She couldn't help laughing a little it was so rude, and the corners of Malfoy's mouth turned up in a smile when she did. She noticed how much nicer he looked when he smiled.

'By the way Granger, you may be feeling all sad and heartbroken, but surely you haven't sunk so low as to sit under this rubbish umbrella and wantonly allow yourself to get soaked?' said Malfoy. Hermione shrugged, and he pulled out his wand and pointed it at the purple canopy, which doubled in size. She hadn't noticed the rain battering her back, but now it was gone she realised quite how soaked she was, and struggled not to start shivering.

'Thanks,' she said, realising she wasn't being polite. 'So … how have you been?'

Malfoy raised an eyebrow at her. 'You don't need to make small-talk with me, Granger.'

'No, I do want to know,' she said, finding herself feeling genuinely interested. She hadn't heard anything of the Malfoy family for three years, since they'd been acquitted in the aftermath of Voldemort's defeat due to their shift in allegiance and Harry's testimony of Draco being unwilling to carry out Voldemort's orders.

Malfoy shrugged, putting his elbows on the table and intertwining his long fingers. 'Trying to stay out of the public eye, mainly. Blaise and I have set up a couple of charities to help care for orphans of the war and those disabled by it. I've had to do therapy under orders from the Ministry, but that was actually quite good. Went travelling a bit, to South America and Asia. What about you, Granger?'

'You know what I've been up to,' she said, pushing her half-melted icecream around the bowl. Every event of her life in the past three years had been published by the Prophet: when she and Ron were officially dating, when they became engaged, when she received six Outstandings in her N.E. , when she joined the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and, most recently, when she managed to change laws regarding the rights of underprivileged creatures. Harry, Ron and Ginny had been given the same treatment, although Ron seemed to rather enjoy it and often made a show of things that would make the front page of the Prophet, such as proposing to her during a meal at Ambrosia, Wizarding Britain's fanciest restaurant, while a string quartet played and every other patron each produced a red rose to give her. It would have been romantic, if she hadn't noticed the tipped-off Daily Prophet photographers poised with cameras a few tables away.

'I suppose I have. You know, you haven't changed a bit, Granger.'

'Really? Well you seem to have changed a lot.'

'I know. I cringe whenever I think about how I was back in Hogwarts,' he said, grimacing. 'I'm sorry, for all that.'

'It's alright, I'm sure we all would've acted the same,' she replied.

'Thanks. What do you think you're going to do now, then? Break up with Weasley?'

'Already have. I told him to go fuck himself and was gone before he could even extract himself from that little hussy,' said Hermione, and then as she realised something she groaned. 'Oh no! We were living together, I didn't think - where on earth am I going to stay?'

'Surely Potter and Weasley Minimus can take you in, as sickeningly in love as they are?' suggested Malfoy, sounding a little mocking of the couple, although it didn't grate Hermione's nerves as it used to. She shook her head.

'All four of us are living at Grimmauld Place, and I don't want to force myself between Harry and Ron, whatever Ron's done. Anyway in the interim when Harry and Ginny decide how they're reacting to this I don't even want to see Ron, let alone speak to him. I guess I'll just book myself into the Leaky Cauldron or something.'

'Oh bugger that, come stay in my spare room,' said Malfoy. Hermione stared at him. 'Look, Granger, we hated each other at school, sure, but we're adults now. My flat is a few streets away from here and has a spare room. Look, we don't really even have to see each other, you can just use it to sleep in until you sort yourself out. But you don't want to be staying in somewhere like the Leaky Cauldron. It's your choice, of course, but the offer is there.'

She mused it over for a while, and then shrugged. 'Fine, whatever, I'll come stay with you. I suppose it would be pretty awful to have to stay in a pub during the fallout of all this. Thank you, Malfoy. You know if I'm staying temporarily in your flat, it's a bit silly to call each other by our surnames.'

'Agreed … Hermione. Merlin, that's strange.'

'You'll get used to it, Draco.'

He looked around at the street. 'The rain's easing a bit, shall we make a dash for it before the crowds come back? I can show you the way…'

But Hermione had just looked over his shoulder and spotted a familiar gangly ginger man heading their way. Feeling almost frantic, she shook her head and grabbed his forearm. 'No, let's just Apparate there.' Draco shrugged and gripped her forearm with his own hand. A second before they Disapparated, Hermione saw Ron spot them and stop dead, his mouth open in shock. And then there was a jerk and they were gone, compressed horribly for a second before landing heavily. Hermione felt herself slip and unbalance on the wet ground, but then someone caught her by the waist and steadied her. She mumbled her thanks to Draco, reddening a little at how clumsy she must've looked losing balance after a simple Apparation, but he didn't seem to think anything of it.

They seemed to be stood in a bush, and before Hermione could question it Draco was already pushing out through the branches, and so Hermione followed him. They were in a little oval-shaped park, with trees, benches, and a statue of a man on a rearing horse at the centre. All around the park were large Georgian brick houses, four stories high with pillars in front of the doors. The rain had stopped completely now, but the ground was soaked and water pooled everywhere.

'You have one of these?' exclaimed Hermione, looking up at the houses as they walked out the park. She knew houses in this area of London were extortionately expensive.

'Most of these have been turned into flats. I have two floors of Number Fifty-Seven,' explained Draco, leading her over to it. 'Muggles take the other three, so it's very private. Only a select few people know I live here.' Hermione was surprised that he was so blase about living in the same building as Muggles, but didn't comment on it. He pulled out a key from a pocket and opened the front door, ushering her inside. Hermione paused to take in the large, marble-floored hallway with a curving staircase going on upwards, a silver chandelier - unpolished - hanging above her head. A middle-aged woman in a purple coat was stood looking through a pile of letters, and smiled warmly at Draco.

'Hello, Draco dear,' she said, smiling at Hermione as well.

'Hello, Mrs Marcham,' he replied. Touching Hermione lightly on the elbow, he led her to a large door to the left, unlocking that as well and holding it open for her.

She hadn't been sure about what she was expecting from the flat, but she still stared in shock and surprise when she walked in. There was only one word for it, really - tasteful. The ground floor of the flat was all open plan, the front door leading into the sitting room, which was divided from the kitchen-dining room by a set of glass doors that slid apart to create an open archway. With the floor-to-ceiling windows, the rooms were filled with light and warmth. The colours were mostly pale creams and golds, with a few spots of darker colour such as a pair of sofas in a rich burgundy. Although the furnishings were clearly expensive, everything seemed comfortable and inviting.

'Is it just you here?' she asked as Draco shut the door.

'Blaise stays whenever he's in town, but he spends most of his time in Italy or other parts of Europe, sorting out the Zabini businesses and estates. Do you want some tea?'

'Please.'

He went into the kitchen, but she stayed for a moment in the sitting room to take it all in. She was in Draco Malfoy's flat, and he was being nice to her. Things certainly had changed since their Hogwarts school days. She realised that she was soaking wet and her clothes were all clammy and stuck to her skin, so she pointed her wand at herself and cast a quick drying charm. Draco reappeared to ask if she wanted milk or sugar and smirked at the sight of her stood on the front mat in a cloud of steam.

As she followed him into the kitchen, she saw it was more modern than the sitting room which had kept somewhere close to tradition, the kitchen all in white and grey with some blue, the dining table made of glass. She sat down on a barstool at the 'breakfast bar' and Draco slid a mug of tea across the counter to her. She cupped it in her hands, finding herself at a loss for what to say to him.

'You're alright, aren't you Gr- Hermione? Not about to burst into tears on me?' he asked. 'Do you want some whisky in that tea?'

'No thank you,' she said, giggling a little.'And I'm fine, thanks Draco. Maybe later.' She wasn't fine, not really, she could feel a deep ache in her chest that had been hurting for a few hours now, but it seemed that the reality of it hadn't hit her yet. Her mind hadn't processed it properly, it was still confused. 'I forgot to ask by the way, do you have a girlfriend who'd have an issue with me staying here? I really don't mind finding somewhere else if so, it's okay -'

Draco laughed, leaning back against a cabinet. 'No, I don't have a girlfriend. Pansy Parkinson tried to cling a bit after the end of the war but I burned that bridge pretty quickly. Blaise set me up with this girl Astoria Greengrass for a drink about a month ago but not much has really come of that one. So no, no girlfriend.'

After they'd drunk the tea Draco showed her the upper floor, which was as nice as the lower. The spare room was fairly bare and stark, but the bed was as big as the one she and Ron had shared – she'd enjoy spending a night without Ron's kicking and duvet stealing – and she had her own bathroom as Draco's bedroom had an en-suite.

It had grown dark all of a sudden, and they decided that as it was dark it was late enough for a drink. Hermione watched from her stool at the breakfast bar as Draco added together as skilfully as a bartender ice, Firewhisky, Coca-cola and lime in two tumblers, sliding one over to her. She took a sip and felt how strong it was, but the warmth of the Firewhisky was comforting and for the first time since she'd walked out of Weasley Wizard Wheezes she felt some of the pain that had been aching in her chest fade ever so slightly. She drank more, this time a proper mouthful.

Draco went to the fridge and started pulling out food. 'You've got a lot of non-magical appliances,' she commented, as he put a box of eggs on the counter.

'I was put on a compulsory educative Muggle Studies course, it showed me how to use it all. I can't believe that wizards haven't come up with a proper equivalent for fridges yet,' he said, cracking an egg into a bowl. 'You like omelettes, right? They're my current favourite thing.'

'You're full of surprises, Draco,' she said, smiling and finishing off her drink. He gave her a crooked smile, his eye drooping to wink at her. Noticing her empty glass, he quickly created her another drink.

Over an hour, two omelettes and several drinks later, Hermione found herself laughing until her sides ached as she watched Draco try to manually build a fire in the fireplace after she took away and hid his wand when he wasn't looking. As he managed to set light to a pinecone and was so shocked he yelped and fell back onto his arse on the hearth her laughter redoubled.

In retaliation, he grabbed her by the ankles and dragged her off the sofa onto the rug, tickling her ribs until she screamed for mercy. 'Tell me where my wand is!' he cried.

'Never!' she retorted, pushing him in the chest and flipping them over so she was on top, straddling him and holding him down on the rug. They both froze, staring at each other, and Hermione found herself absorbed by the lines of his face, which seemed to have been sculpted without an imperfection, including the small scars on his chin and temple. Her chest was heaving with exertion after the tickling, and she could feel his muscles quivering a little beneath her hands and thighs.

After what felt like minutes, he reached up with one hand and cupped the back of her neck, entwining his fingers with her tangle of hair. Slowly, he pulled her down to him, and she pressed her lips softly against his. The kiss was like nothing she'd experienced before. Viktor Krum's mouth had always been rather dry and his stubble had made it almost painful to kiss him. Ron's kisses had been wet and sloppy, his tongue always shoving as far as it could into her mouth. Draco was somehow both firm and gentle, his lips fitting against hers and his tongue didn't seem to be violating her when it dipped into her mouth.

His hands moved to hold her waist, slipping underneath her blouse, which had become untucked in somehow, and when he touched her soft skin it sent a jolt through her nerves, making her tense and then relax again into him. A finger traced the line of her spine, making her shiver, and then shifted to hold her against him with more force. She shifted her own lips to kiss the crook where his jaw met his neck, biting and sucking a little to elicit a husky groan from him.

'You're not such a good girl, are you?' he murmured, and his hands moved to unbutton her blouse. She'd always had slightly smaller breasts than average and it was a bit of sore spot for her, especially whenever Ron made a thoughtless comment on them. But as Draco pulled off her shirt there was no trace of disappointment or anticlimax in his face, only a smile as he deftly unclipped her bra and reached up to cup one breast, pulling her close so he could kiss the other. She gasped a little at the feeling of his lips and tongue on the tender skin, shuddering with pleasure. Without thinking, she started rocking back and forth, and Draco groaned again, his fingers digging into her as she felt him harden beneath her.

'Oh … sorry,' she murmured. But he just caught her by the waist and flipped them so he was on top, her legs parting so he could rub against her. She unbuttoned his shirt until he could pull it off, her hands running over the lean muscles of his torso. It became more hurried after that, him roughly pulling off her skirt and underwear – she felt briefly embarrassed at the unsexy dachshund-decorated number she'd put on that morning – and her attempting to pull off his trousers.

Somehow they both found themselves naked, their bodies entwined together on the plush rug. 'Draco … Draco I want you,' she gasped, and he needed no more encouragement. He pushed into her slowly, filling her up inch by inch as she gasped and pressed her face against the crook of his collarbone, her fingers digging into his back. It was like nothing she'd experienced before. As he started to thrust inside her, slowly at first and then with more urgency, she moaned each time as she felt him hit her G-spot.

When she finally came, the pleasure was almost unbearable, passing in waves through her body as she lay back on the rug, crying out and clinging to him. He came soon after her, burying his face in her chest as he came, with a spasm, into her. He pulled himself out of her and they lay together on the floor, still wrapped around each other. Her head on his chest, feeling is slowly, steady heartbeat, Hermione felt herself drift off into a contented sleep.

She woke up in a bed with her head splitting open, and for a moment she wondered if it had all been a dream. But then she rolled over and saw she was in the spare bed in Draco's flat, and the reality washed over her. She had slept with Draco Malfoy, and it had been good. The best she'd ever experienced, leagues beyond the awkward fumblings Ron had always attempted.

She lay for a while in the bed, and then as her mouth became unbearably dry she pushed back the covers and climbed out. She was wearing what seemed to be one of Draco's t-shirts, emblazoned with 'Wimbourne Wasps', and a pair of clean boxers. Draco must've put them on her and she felt herself redden with embarrassment at the thought of it.

As she walked past the mirror she caught a glimpse of herself and winced. Her makeup had smudged and her hair was sticking up in every direction. Draco had left a jumper for her on a chair in the bedroom, so she pulled that on, and quickly tied back her hair in a bun and rubbed off the worst smudging, so she at least didn't look like a banshee.

Her footsteps were muffled on the carpet as she padded downstairs, and for a moment Draco, who was at the coffee machine, didn't notice her. When he did they exchanged an awkward smile and he held up a large, foamy coffee. 'Need this?'

'Thanks.' Their voices were husky, hoarse, and Hermione coughed a little in her throat. Again she was at a loss as to what to say.

'An owl came for you, a silver one, do you know it?'

'Amadeus,' said Hermione, nodding. It was Harry and Ginny's new one.

'The letter is on the table.'

She went over and slid into one of the chairs, turning the letter over in her hands and recognising Ginny's slanted handwriting. As she opened it and unfolded the parchment, she didn't notice Draco eyeing her from the kitchen.

Hermione, it read, Harry and I have heard what Ron did, and we're outraged. He's gone back to live at the Burrow until he finds somewhere else. We hope you were alright last night and not in a state. Please come back to live at Grimmauld Place. Ginny (and Harry).

She dropped the letter on the kitchen table and looked over at Draco. 'It's from Ginny. She's saying Ron's left Grimmauld Place and they want me to come back to them. So I guess I won't have to encroach on your hospitality anymore.'

'Right,' said Draco, turning away to face the oven. 'I guess you want to get home again.'

She stared down at the letter, a small part of her regretting it had come and a larger part of her wondering why. 'Do you know where my clothes are?'

'Over on the sofa next door.'

It was different to yesterday, between them, they were strained and tense with each other, neither one meeting the other's eye. Hermione left her coffee undrunk and padded through to the sitting room, finding her clothes in a neat pile with her wand on top. It was false modesty after last night, but she changed in the corner where Draco couldn't see her.

'Do you want breakfast?' asked Draco, too politely, as if they'd only just met. Hermione shook her head, a few strands coming loose from her bun.

'I don't think my stomach's up to it. I'll probably just go home now, if that's alright, so Ginny and Harry know I'm okay.'

'Yes, that's fine.'

She started for the door but stopped when Draco called out from the kitchen. 'Hermione! It was … it was good to see you again.'

'And you, Draco.'

'You don't regret ... last night?'

She shook her head. 'No. I guess it's true what they say, that a rebound helps a broken heart.'

He nodded, his eyes staring down at the floor. 'Yes. That's all it was, of course. A rebound. Bye, Hermione.'

Outside it was dry and blustery, and she walked around to a deserted alleyway to Disapparate instead of climbing back into the bush again. On the steps of Number 12 Grimmauld Place, she took a few moments to compose herself and face Harry and Ginny, before opening the front door and stepping inside.

'Hello?'

'Hermione!'

Ginny appeared, dressed in a baggy t-shirt half-tucked into her shorts, and very nearly knocked over a pot of paint in her haste to run over and hug Hermione. Harry and Ginny since moving into Grimmauld Place had been attempting to renovate it, and although all of the Dark and Pro-Pureblood furnishings had been removed, they were still working on the walls and carpets and re-filling the house with furniture. Removing the Portrait of Walburga Black had required they knock down the section of the wall it was attached to and rebuild it.

Hermione allowed Ginny to hug her for a while and then extracted herself. 'Hermione, I'm so furious at Ron, I can't believe I'm related to him he's an absolute bastard!' Ginny set off into an angry rant that took them all the way from the hallway down to the kitchen, where Harry was sat with his godson Teddy eating icecream.

'Do you want some?' asked Harry, indicating to his bowl and Teddy's much smaller and much messier one. 'We were going to wait but Teddy got a little bit impatient.' Teddy grinned mischievously, chocolate icecream spread across his mouth, nose and cheeks.

Hermione shook her head. 'No … I think I'm just going to go shower, you know.' She suddenly found herself unable to be in the happy, domestic scene and fled, hurrying upstairs and locking herself in the bathroom. Under the burning hot jets of the shower, she finally allowed herself to let go and stood for a long time, leant against the wall, her chest aching from the sobs and her eyes stinging from the tears.