Author's note: Okay, so I wrote this little ficlet for the dmhgficexchange on livejournal about half a year ago-ish, but wasn't really feeling all that confident about it so decided to wait before I uploaded it here. Thanks to poor_cat for betaing it. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own either Harry Potter or "Turn Into" by Yeah Yeah Yeahs, nor do I own Sex and the City: The Movie.
On the Thames
Perhaps she was making a bad choice, she didn't quite know. She didn't want to know, not really. She wanted to drown into the memories of the past, not to consider what the future might bring her of new memories. Merlin, she needed a drink, something to keep her from over-thinking things. Something to keep her from realising that the chances of her standing on that bridge, rejected and alone were greater than she dared to imagine.
It wasn't like her to consider the complete picture. More often than not, considering the complete picture meant conceding that the odds were against her, and that was something she didn't much care for. So why had this newly acquired ability to see the bigger picture decided to rear its ugly head today of all days? As the taxi she sat in crawled through the London traffic she munched through a cinnamon roll and thought of the advice her friends had given her.
"Talk through everything with him, go through every little bit of detail, pick at scabs, I don't care, just make sure you both know what it is that you want and need from each other," Ginny had said, that one evening she had come over for a visit.
"Yeah," Luna had piped in, "and when you've done that, you need to choose a place to meet, so if you feel you can accept his terms, and and he yours..."
"...you both show up on the same day at that place." Ginny finished for her.
"Mind you, that final meeting should take place some time after your talk, you need to take some time off, and think things through, you know. Make sure to know what you really want, and all that," Luna considered after a while.
She hadn't really asked for any advice, not at all. But they had of course tried to play that old meddling game. She didn't really mind though, she suspected they were taking matters into their own hands, as it was obvious she was content with ignoring the hurt for as long as she lived.
***
There was so much that she had said and done that she now wanted to take back. And, so much more she hadn't said or done, but wished she had. So much she had kept back from him. Had she really pushed him into the arms of that girl? She remembered their conversation two weeks ago, how much he had told her, how she could sense the frustration rolling off of him. She could still feel it now.
They had decided to meet for drinks at The Leaky Cauldron. They had both showed up. With no expectations. He had looked terrible, his pale skin pasty and the blue circles under his eye like dark bruises. But somehow she still felt their connection, the need to take his head in her arms and hold him with all her might.
He had told her about the girl, Astoria, he called her. He was still seeing her, and she knew it. It was obvious that he had begun to think of their
relationship as one that had failed. He was moving on, with a girl who seemed to be perfect in so many ways.
It had destroyed her, realising that the girl could some day turn in to the only one who would ever know his love. But somehow, as the evening wore down, the conversation carried on, they spoke of hopes and fears, of love, of themselves. For once in her life she had felt the joy of sharing her innermost thoughts and feelings with another person. She was no longer limited to a litany of technical terms, no longer merely repeating a text book verbatim.
Everything had changed between them then. The dynamic. The conversation flowing freely, it had felt exhilarating, like she was risking her life for this one moment of perfect communication, baring her soul, as it were.
***
They had made the decision, then, to move on and turn it all around behind them. But she had given him an additional choice. The choice to move on and leave her behind. She knew when she uttered those words that she had already decided she wanted him back, that she needed him back.
"I'm so sorry," she had whispered to him then.
She could see that her words had made an impact, that he was thinking it through. She saw how his normally stormy, grey eyes turned inwards. The tranquility in them. It was all she could hope for.
***
Perhaps she was making a bad choice, she didn't quite know. What she knew was that she wanted to delay this as much as possible. Which was why she had taken the taxi instead of just apparating into the Tate Modern, and walking out onto the bridge from there. She needed time to prepare herself. She was, after all, Hermione Granger!
With that thought of encouragement she paid the driver, stepped out of the taxi and headed towards the bridge. Meeting there had been Ginny's and Luna's idea, they had muttered something about a film, but she hadn't paid any attention. She had liked the idea herself, liked the symbolism, how the bridge was halfway from both their respective jobs, but leading in another direction.
***
Perhaps it was the fact that he wasn't used to waiting for other people, or maybe it was the knowledge that he had given up almost all control of his own life, that made him feel so ill. He shook his head, there was no use dwelling on it; she would either be there or she wouldn't. It was that simple.
There was a time when nothing between the two of them had been simple. When everything had been a game, and they had both tried to keep the score, both trying to stay one step ahead of the other. In the end, though, it had been she who had won, who had managed to keep him from coming to close, who had kept him intrigued well enough without tossing him more than one bone at a time.
It was different this time, he knew. He remembered how comfortable he had felt when talking to her, how he felt life returning to him. Things had changed between them. Their relationship had always been one based on a shared intellectual bond. Now, however, he knew that she had finally chosen to share her emotions with him.
***
Suddenly his wand jerked, and he knew she was there. He hadn't wanted to step unto the bridge before he was certain she was there. All it had taken was a modified localiser charm on the bridge itself. He knew it was cheating, but then again, he was certain that she had suspected as much from him. She knew how much he relished knowing.
As he made his way towards her he forgot all about maintaining correct Malfoy dignity, he wiped all traces of a smirk off his face and held his arms open to catch her as she came running towards him.
She burrowed her head in his chest and muttered wordlessly. No words were spoken, they had already said all that needed to be said. They stood there embracing and he knew that this was where he was supposed to be, without thinking he tilted her head upwards. As their lips met, it was as if a shock of electricity went through his body. From a remote place he could feel her trying to keep her balance by grabbing a fistful of his shirt, and he tightened his grip around her. He could taste a hint of cinnamon on her lips, and suddenly hungry for more he deepened the kiss, needing to have more of that delicate taste. He heard her murmur something, as if from a distance, then a sigh as he gently massaged her lips with his tongue. Thoughts of people passing by eluded them, they were lost in time, locked in a powerful embrace.
Minutes passed, and they had to come up for air. He saw her gazing at him through heavy-lidded eyes, and felt an immense feeling of pleasure, she was his again.