As she rushed through the crowd, her sleek heels clacked loudly with every step on the worn stone of Diagon Alley. She only had her short lunch break to pick up a gift for Ginny's 27th birthday party later that evening, and make it back to the Ministry where a, now cold, ham and cheese was waiting on her desk, likely to be eaten in distracted bites while reviewing documents for her next meeting with the French Ministry. She was constantly told by friends and family, even strangers, that she worked much too hard; an attractive, bright girl like her should be enjoying life while she was young, maybe getting ready to settle down and start a family of her own.
But Hermione Granger was on a roll, a 10 year roll that started with the end of the Second Wizarding War. When Voldemort's regime crumbled, the Ministry needed to be rebuilt, and Hermione jumped at the chance to make a new, better world for everyone. Now she was one promotion away from becoming the head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, and she was far too invested in her work to let something as seemingly insignificant as a social life, or Merlin forbid a love life, slow her down.
Despite the afternoon rush, she seemed to part the crowd. The loud, attention-seeking heels paired with the tailored muggle suit would have attracted stares regardless of the face that went along with them. But considering it was Hermione Granger, war hero and political powerhouse, walking down Diagon Alley for something as lowly as running errands, the effect was multiplied.
Although the press had reluctantly backed down over the years, Hermione would never get used to being in the spotlight. Of course, she would never change anything, but it was the one thing she despised about having such a prominent role in the war. If anyone ever asked, she would nod politely and say "I was only doing what I had to," before turning away with a tight smile. It was the period in her life that she would most like to forget; even thinking about it brought back the pain that she fought so hard to suppress. Although she never really meant it, she sometimes longed for the blissfully ignorant lives of her parents, who were probably still traipsing around Australia to fulfill their lifelong "dreams".
So in order to escape the mostly hidden (but some blatant) stares, Hermione ducked into the first shop that looked somewhat promising. She would pick up something simple and be back on her way, after all, 27 was hardly a life changing milestone. Maybe she could find a nice book, although that was far more up her own alley, as Ginny was only an avid reader if Witch Weekly was considered literature.
As it was, Hermione was already on her third shop in her, now desperate, attempt to find something for her fiery best friend. She had already stayed out far longer than she intended and was pushing her luck if she wanted to make it back to the Ministry on time. She could already see Ginny's face as she sheepishly whispered that she didn't have the time to find the perfect gift, but no worries—she'd make it up in some way or another. Ginny would try to cover up her disappointment with a smile so bright it looked painful, while spouting off assurances that she completely understood, future Minister for Magic business and all, her presence at the party was enough anyways.
The worst part was it was becoming true; although it wasn't "enough", her presence was somewhat of a gift recently. As Hermione got more and more wrapped up in her quest to spread goodness around the world, she saw continually less and less of her friends. The first time she caught flashes of surprise cross her friends' faces when she unexpectedly showed up to their weekly dinner at the Leaky Cauldron—a tradition which she was always invited to, but rarely actually made it—she almost took a step back from work altogether. But now she was used to occasional shock, and occasional disappointment, that accompanied her busy schedule. It killed her to know that her friends were slowly slipping away; she loved them dearly and credited all of her success to their steady support. Her only consolation was their pride for her work and its visible improvements to the wizarding world since the war.
As she left the small shop empty handed, she made a mental note to call up some old friends when she got the chance, maybe even have a little dinner party at her place. She was long overdue to host anyways.
Hermione made her way back through the mid-day crowd to the Leaky Cauldron, where she could access the Floo Network and finally get back to work. She was already late and rushed as fast as she could manage in her heels, caught in that awkward phase between running and walking.
Despite her tendency to focus on the ground or other inanimate objects, really on anything without prying eyes, she still managed to catch a shock of bright blonde out of the corner of her eye.
No matter where she was, seeing that shade of hair always made Hermione do a double take. But nearly every time, it wasn't actually him, and Hermione could go merrily on her way, pretending she wasn't disappointed.
Which is why, after her routine glance back, when Hermione found herself staring into the stormy eyes of Draco Malfoy, she couldn't help but stumble in her path. She quickly chalked up her clumsiness to the unlucky combination of heels and cobblestone, and by the time she had regained her balance and straightened, she had run through all possible scenarios in her head.
And it all boiled down to one choice: she could ignore him and leave, pretend it was all just another false alarm, or she could face the dragon head on. If she had been disappointed when a blonde head turned out to be stranger, the dread of actually facing Malfoy was far worse.
Leaving would certainly be the smarter option. From where she was standing, with Malfoy just out of view, she could already see the Leaky Cauldron's sign and smell the greasy comfort food wafting from the pub, mocking her. She could be back at the Ministry within two minutes and avoid the awkward conversation that was sure to ensue. It would be easy. Just walk forward, Hermione. Don't look back.
She took a step forward.
And she looked back.
When she turned, she found his eyes already locked on her own, undoubtedly watching her pathetic attempt to flee. Years ago, she had become quite talented in the art of translating Draco Malfoy's expressions to normal human emotions. But she seemed to have lost her touch, as she couldn't read the steady, impassive face that stared back at her.
More than a few moments passed with the two former enemies frozen, just watching each other, before Hermione snapped back to reality. She immediately admonished herself for acting so ridiculous. Honestly, you're a grown, independent woman! Stop acting like some lovesick teenager and making a fool of yourself.
Considering how Draco Malfoy topped her list of "Stupid Reasons to Miss Work", Hermione was about to turn away and finally make it back to the Ministry when he took a large step forward. With just a few more sweeping strides, Malfoy had cut through the crowd and was standing before her, close enough to touch.
There were a few more awkward moments before Malfoy greeted with a nod, "Granger."
"Hi, Draco," she acknowledged softly. "How are you?"
She was just inquiring out of politeness, at least that's what she told herself. After all, with a golden reputation to maintain, she couldn't afford to appear rude in public. Anyways, she would have stopped to chat with any other friend she ran into in Diagon Alley. Although, she probably shouldn't consider Draco a friend, she thought. She toyed with the idea for a moment before deciding that no, Draco was certainly not a friend.
"I'm doing well, thank you," he replied. Despite how the conversation was painfully forced and formal, he finished with a small smile that even the most oblivious person could tell was genuine. "And you?"
In answer, she merely nodded in agreement, avoiding eye contact. After Draco raised an eyebrow at her response, Hermione shot him a wide smile in an attempt to convince him that she meant it, but it only ended up rivaling one of Ginny's smiles that she always privately made fun of.
She really was doing well, as she'd convinced herself. And despite how her chance meeting with Draco had her mind reeling and made her question her definition of "success", she couldn't deny that she was doing well. In terms of her career, she was right on track, exceeding expectations that she'd held for herself while merely an ambitious Hogwarts student. Wasn't this exactly what she wanted for herself? Her deserving success at such a young age had, of course, required some sacrifices, but she'd always deemed them necessary and moved on without dwelling too much. Now, standing in front of him again, she couldn't help but wonder if it was too late to draw a line.
She quickly decided that the middle of Diagon Alley was not the best place to question her life decisions, and instead jumped in to veer the conversation in a different direction.
"I never got to thank you properly, for all your help with the United Magical Beings Association. I guess I could call you a full-blown philanthropist now," she teased with a light smile.
"You don't have to thank me, Granger. I guess I couldn't spend all that time with you without being influenced a little bit," he joked back as she rolled her eyes. "Besides, that was ages ago."
"I guess. But still, I do see your name pop up on the donation lists every once and a while," she offered.
Immediately, his eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Those were supposed to be anonymous."
Brushing off his glare at her comment, she continued, "Do I have to remind you that I'm still technically president of the organization? Even if my team deals with most of the daily business, I still have access to the donors, even the 'confidential' ones." She noticed that his scowl soften into a slight frown, but that he still was not completely appeased. "Don't worry, your good deeds remain secret to the public," she added, slightly amused. "Although I don't know why," she muttered, half to herself.
"Granger," he started, raising an eyebrow, a touch condescending, "if you must know, I'm not embarrassed about donating to your organization. I just don't think it needs to be some big affair. The donations don't become any more effective if everyone knows where they come from. Plus, I don't want people to get the wrong idea; I don't want them to think I'm trying to buy a new start for the Malfoy name. That would be counter productive," he ended with a scoff.
The conversation lulled as she thought about his words and couldn't help but think they had merit.
Just as Hermione, genuinely curious, was about to ask him more, Draco broke the silence, "Well anyways, I see you in the Prophet a lot, making headlines every other day." He added his signature smirk, "I still can't believe you managed to bring your beloved house elf rights to an international level," he chuckled.
She laughed and rolled her eyes in response, finally relaxing into the conversation. Although he had teased her endlessly about her passion for the small creatures, the casual remark only reminded her of how he had supported all of her ambitious plans, regardless of how seemingly outrageous, more than anyone.
"You know I don't really care about that stuff, right?" she asked, meeting his gaze once again. "The fame, I mean," she clarified. "I still care about house elves and all that, in case you were worried."
But instead of taking the bait for another jab at SPEW, Draco's good-natured smile became tense, looking more like a grimace than anything.
"What do you mean you don't care about the fame?" he asked, eyes narrowed.
"What do you mean 'what do I mean'? You of all people should know it's never been about the fame. If you read the Prophet so much then you should know the kind of work I'm doing! That's what matters!" she shot back, her words taking on an accusatory tone as she went on.
"Oh, please. Stop acting like you're above it all! You wanted the fame, the power, just as much as the next person. You knew you needed it to achieve your goals, anyways." His voice never truly raised in volume, but he had a way of making them infinitely more intense. He paused before finally adding, "But I didn't fit into that equation, did I?"
"Don't be ridiculous, Draco," she whispered harshly, staring at his shoulder so she wouldn't have to meet his eyes.
"I'm serious, Granger! We both know there's some truth to it. You couldn't bare to soil your perfect reputation by being associated with a Death Eater, could you?"
"What? Of course not! The whole wizarding world knows that you betrayed Voldemort to help the Order in the end. The press has done nothing but praise your invaluable contributions to the outcome of the war."
"One scared little boy's choices can't erase a family's entire history of darkness, Granger," he countered gravely. "A few donations from behind a desk doesn't do that either." He let out a slow breath before adding, "You couldn't stand my mark, you know. You tried to hide it, but I noticed the grimace every time you saw it, the shiver every time you accidentally touched it."
She had nothing to say to that, so she stayed silent instead, keeping her eyes locked on his shoulder. Once he realized she wasn't going to respond, Draco let out an incredulous laugh but said nothing more, letting the uncomfortable silence grow.
When Hermione finally lifted her gaze to meet his again, he took a deep breath before adding softly, "I did love you, you know. I didn't tell you nearly enough, but I loved you."
"Yes, I know."
Seemingly annoyed by her short response, his voice strengthened and he continued, "You do remember that you loved me, too ... at least that's what you told me."
"Yes, Draco. I remember," she replied, her voice barely audible over the crowd bustling around them. She still kept her answers short—despite Draco's obvious frustration—as she didn't completely trust her voice to remain steady for longer periods of time. How could I forget.
Hermione was curled up in her favorite red armchair, situated right in front of the fire with a good book and a cup of tea. With her feet tucked underneath her folded legs, she looked remarkably like Crookshanks, who was cuddled in his usual position on her lap.
After the war, one of the first things Hermione did was get her a flat where she could live on her own. It wasn't much, just a modest place paid for with the money from the countless interviews and press tours that came with being the brains behind the so-called "Golden Trio". It was a one bed, one bath flat with a simple kitchen that bled into her living space. Although the place felt cramped (most likely a result of the overstuffed bookshelves containing her entire life's collection lining the walls) the large windows and their lovely views over the city kept her from suffocating. She lived just on the edge of Wizarding London but often preferred the nearby muggle shops and restaurants, where she could easily blend in to the ordinary crowd. After being shoved in the spotlight following the war, Hermione was perfectly content to fade back into the shadows.
While the rest of the wizarding world was settling back into their daily routines, Hermione was just getting settled into her new internship with the Department of International Magical Cooperation. Even though the pay was low, just enough to comfortably pay rent, and the hours were long, Hermione viewed every day as an opportunity to learn more about the field and someday wield enough power to influence the world. Above all, the tedious hours of her lowly desk job provided some much needed normalcy to her life that, thus far, had been anything but.
Despite how much she valued her work at the Ministry, to the point where her friends began to tease her, she treasured these moments of peace where she could get lost in a book without worrying about anything else. Which is why, even as the flames before her flashed green, she was too absorbed in the theories of Waffling and Stalk to pay any notice until he was standing right in front of her.
"Hello, Hermione," Draco greeted, rocking back and forth on his toes, hands behind his back, and a wicked smirk plastered on his face.
She looked up and immediately narrowed her eyes, "What are you up to now?" She desperately tried to keep a straight face at his blatantly suspicious behavior, but couldn't help it when the corners of her mouth quirked upwards. "You're early, anyways. Dinner reservations aren't for another hour."
"Can't I just drop by a little early to see my lovely girlfriend before dinner?" he asked innocently, his grin never faltering.
But before she could even begin to guess his clearly ulterior motives, he produced a package from behind his back, perfectly wrapped in beautiful silver paper with her name scrawled in ink on the corner.
After staring at the present in surprise for a moment, she finally commented, suspicious expression back in full force, "You do know my birthday's not for another week, right?"
"Of course," he responded smoothly. "But I found this the other day, and I couldn't possibly keep it from you any longer. I'm surprised I managed to keep it a secret this long as it is," he finished with a light chuckle. Draco tried to keep a cool exterior and, at first glance, was very successful. But anyone who observed him longer than a second could easily see the excitement shining behind his eyes.
Hermione, of course, picked up on his excitement at once. It made her even more curious about the mysterious package that apparently contained something so wonderful that even Draco couldn't wait a few more days. Especially because, being the Slytherin that he was, Draco was not particularly known for being such an enthusiastic gift giver.
After eyeing the present for a moment longer, Hermione carefully took the package from his outstretched hands, still not entirely sure that he hadn't just taken a detour at Weasley Wizard Wheezes before arriving at her flat.
"It's not going to bite, Hermione," he playfully rolled his eyes at her overly cautious movements. At his words, she faltered again, not having seriously considered whether or not the mysterious package could in fact harm her.
"Well are you going to open it or not?" Draco finally exclaimed, growing impatient with her stalling.
Without saying anything more, Hermione began to pluck open the paper, careful to not ruin the delicate design, and revealed a worn book. It was a fairly large volume with thick, yellowing pages that were curling at the edges and bound together with dragon-hide. She turned the tome over in her hands to reveal the cover and found the title pressed in fading gold leaf.
"The Complete Journals of Artemisia Lufkin: A Collection," she read aloud before freezing, the words finally having sunken in.
She gasped and dropped the text to her lap the moment she realized what she was holding and sat gaping at the title for far longer than was attractive.
Hermione finally looked back up at Draco to find his smirk replaced with a genuine smile at her reaction.
"But-but ... how?!" was all she managed to stammer out.
"I already told you, dear. I just picked it up the other day," he replied with a casual wave of his hand, keeping his answers purposefully vague.
She immediately grew suspicious once again, but decided to save her interrogation for later. She imagined his search for the book was a lot harder than he made out and cost more than a few galleons.
"Oh, Draco," she said, standing up with wide eyes. "I can't possibly accept this. Aren't there only, what, 12 of these copies ever made?"
He merely shrugged in response. "I think the whole point of the gift is that I'm giving it to you. Besides, you have to accept it, the return policy on that thing is quite strict," he countered, a smirk creeping back up on his face.
She let out a laugh and carefully placed her new treasure on the coffee table before launching herself into his arms.
"Thank you," she said, her voice muffled into his chest.
He pulled back enough to place a sweet kiss on her lips. "Consider it a congratulations for your new job, too," he told her, sporting a proud smile. "Besides, I thought it would be fitting, seeing has you are working for the Department of International Magical Cooperation now." He leaned down further, his lips just barely brushing her ear, and whispered, "Plus, when you inevitably follow Lufkin's precedent and become the 10th woman to be minister for magic, I'm hoping you'll graciously remember this moment."
She pulled back to examine his face with pursed lips (leave it to Draco to always be thinking of himself) but found nothing but amusement and pride dancing behind his eyes.
Suddenly, Hermione gasped and braced her hands on his chest to push Draco back further. "Oh you are in big trouble, mister!" she announced, fighting to keep a straight face.
"What is it now?" he asked with an arched brow.
"You are never going to be able to top this!" she exclaimed smugly. "You can spend the rest of your life trying to top this gift, but I'm telling you now, it's all downhill from here," Hermione explained with a gleeful laugh, still not able to fully believe that she actually owned the rare, personal accounts from a witch that she admired immensely.
"Is that a challenge?" Draco questioned, pulling Hermione back towards him.
She wrapped her arms around securely around his neck and mumbled an indiscernible response against his lips.
"As much as I would love to continue this, we still have a table waiting for us at Obertelli's," he reminded while reluctantly pulling away.
Obertelli's Eating House was their favorite restaurant; they frequented the place so much that the staff often stopped at their table to chat like old friends. Hermione had first taken Draco to Obertelli's before they had even started dating. Considering it was a muggle restaurant, she had been extremely nervous at his reaction, even if he seemed fairly open minded ever since he began meeting with the Order. Although she quickly noticed his uncomfortable fidgeting when they were first seated, he relaxed enough as the meal wore on to enjoy the food and the conversation.
In fact, when Hermione thought of the charming family-owned restaurant, she immediately associated it with their relationship. That first time they got lunch together, a matronly woman sitting next to them had, rather loudly, commented on what a lovely couple they were. As a result, the staff were convinced that Hermione and Draco were desperately in love, and it took quite a few more lunches to convince them that they were, indeed, just friends.
However, not long after, the familiar atmosphere of Obertelli's was home to Hermione and Draco's first official date, and it was in their usual booth near the back window that they shared their first kiss. The staff yelled and whooped, and it wasn't long before the entire restaurant was cheering for the new couple. Hermione's face flushed a blazing red while she tried to hide under Draco's arm, who was grinning impishly at all the attention. They celebrated with dessert on the house and a message from the chef that the staff would all be expecting invitations to the wedding.
"We do eat there quite a lot," Draco reasoned when he noticed Hermione hadn't responded and was instead staring longingly at the book resting on her coffee table. "I'm sure they won't miss us just this once."
Hermione's attention snapped back to him, her eyes wide and hopeful. "We could order Chinese?" she near whispered, as if speaking any louder would change his mind.
"I suppose I wouldn't be opposed to Chinese," he answered, tucking her head under his chin and running his fingers through her wild curls. He could feel her grin into his chest as she hugged him closer.
After a final peck on the lips, Hermione practically skipped in delight over to her gift and crouched down in front of the coffee table, intently inspecting the cover without actually touching it.
"This isn't some cruel joke, right?" she finally blurted out, still not completely believing the book was actually hers.
"Why don't you open it and see?" Draco countered back playfully. He was leaning back gracefully against the wall opposite her, arms crossed over his broad chest and watching her every move. Her excitement was contagious, radiating off her in waves, and caused an easy, affectionate smile to grace Draco's face. He wondered how it was possible for someone to be so delighted over a book.
While Hermione was absorbed in her own little world as she leafed through Lufkin's journals, Draco made his way into the kitchen. He picked up Hermione's muggle telephone while locating the number of the Chinese place that was pinned on the side of her fridge. He carefully punched the little numbers and waited for the disembodied voice to greet him before rattling off their regular order.
Draco was far more comfortable with muggle culture than he had been before Hermione. That being said, some aspects of their technology still freaked him out to no end, and he didn't see that changing any time in the near future. That included telephones; something about everyone being assigned a number that allowed anyone to reach them anytime seemed awfully dystopian to him. Once, Hermione had tried to explain the physics behind a telephone to him, as if that would somehow make him feel better about it, but he only ended up more confused than before.
By the time the food arrived, Hermione had finished her brief examination of the contents of each journal with the promise that she would more thoroughly analyze each word when she got the chance. They then finished their satisfying meal in the comfort of Hermione's living room, filled with her enthusiastic discussion of all things Artemisia Lufkin.
When all of the takeout boxes had been cleared away, Hermione approached one of her many bookshelves, new treasure cradled close to her chest, and let out a dramatic sigh while peering up at her extensive collection of books.
"Now, where do I put it?" Hermione hummed, quiet enough that Draco couldn't tell whether he was supposed to answer or if she was just talking to herself. "It's got to be a special place, on display but too not much that its quality could be jeopardized."
He settled on simply watching Hermione while relaxing into one of her overstuffed love seats, but she paid him no attention, and he doubted she would have noticed if he had said anything.
This dynamic continued for longer than Draco cared to keep track of, with him momentarily invisible while Hermione furiously searched for the right place to store her new book. However, he didn't mind one bit. It allowed him to shamelessly watch her as different emotions played across her face. He could tell the moment when she thought of a new idea, a new potential home for the tome, and she would scurry over to test it out with giddy delight. He thought it might have been just him, but he found it incredibly endearing.
By the time Hermione had tested over a dozen potential locations and was about to pass his spot on the sofa again, Draco reached out and pulled her waist towards him. She had been so absorbed in her little mission that she let out a yelp and fell gracelessly into his lap.
He only meant to steal a quick kiss before letting her free again, but as he was pulling away, foreheads still pressed together, he let slip, "I love you."
Draco was almost as surprised at the words as Hermione. It was the first time he'd ever said them aloud and meant it, except perhaps to his mother (but that didn't count; that was an obligatory love). He hadn't seriously considered being in love with Hermione before that moment, but as soon as the words formed, he knew they were true. He hadn't been more sure about anything in his life.
The deafening silence stretched for quite a few more moments before Hermione open her eyes and peeked up at him through her lashes. The sincerity she found there composed her and reminded her that she wasn't dreaming. "I think I love you, too," she whispered, the journals momentarily discarded and forgotten on the floor next to them.
As a child, she had always pictured an ideal life, albeit lived inside the lines. She would work hard in school, work even harder at her job, and marry a nice boy. Then, being sensible adults, they would wait to have kids until they were financially stable. As she had already decided, they would have two kids, a boy and a girl, three years apart.
Of course, as she grew up, she quickly discovered that life couldn't be scheduled and planned out like one of her prided timetables. She learned to stop over analyzing when things went right, just waiting for the first red and the eventual sabotage of her own happiness.
And so, when she discovered that she was in love with Draco Malfoy, for once in her life, she didn't question it. Things were changing so quickly after Harry defeated Voldemort, in all aspects of her life, that she didn't even have time to be surprised. Especially after surviving a war, not much shocked Hermione at all. And while she wasn't surprised that she could love Draco, she wasn't expecting to fall for him quite so fast. Looking back, however, she should have known that the combination of the newfound peace, their youth, and their desperation for happiness would have created the perfect storm.
It was enough for her to move out of her beloved, tiny flat because, despite seeing Draco nearly everyday anyways, Hermione somehow couldn't get enough of him. Her efforts to find the perfect home for her beloved journals didn't matter anyways; Hermione had moved in with Draco within the month. She's sure that her 11 year old self, who was convinced she'd save herself for marriage, would have been properly scandalized.
Despite Draco's futile attempts at the very beginnings of their relationship, it was impossible to keep their relationship a secret. The public had already come to the conclusion that Hermione was promised to Ron, and liked to think that the two had already secretly gotten married at some point during their year on the run. It never failed to make her scoff; what did people think they had been doing that whole time, sitting around with nothing else to do but get married?
So when the press caught wind of the unlikely pair, Hermione and Draco liked to joke that they celebrated with a bottle of champagne and raises for all. It was also the start of Hermione's hatred for the press; suddenly, the articles no longer praised her brilliance or bravery in the war. Instead, it was all about her latest outing with the Slytherin heart-throb, fantastical stories about how the couple found each other, or speculations as to whether or not the rumple in her jumper was actually a baby bump.
To everyone else, their relationship was like some rare magical beast, but to her, it made all the sense in the world. They were matched in every way, fighting passionately but loving each other even more.
Of course, some would say they were doomed from the start. Whether because of their fundamental differences or because a love so intense could never last, they eventually broke under the pressure.
It was already late, but Hermione had only just gotten home from a particularly draining day at the Ministry, and she wanted nothing more but to curl up next to Draco, who was already settled into bed with a book.
They chatted about their days while she got ready for bed. However, as she broke the news of her next trip overseas—a requirement for work that was becoming more and more common—the conversation turned sour. This alone was not unusual; Draco resented the way the Ministry disregarded Hermione's personal life and expected her to drop everything at anytime, and he made it known.
However, the argument took on an extra layer of accusations when it turned out that her meeting conflicted with their short holiday to celebrate their anniversary. Despite Hermione's attempts to get out of the meeting, her upper management had decided that she was too essential to the team.
Draco grumbled that at least she tried to get out of it this time, and Hermione dropped the subject, thinking all would be well again the next morning.
However, in the end, it was the Gryffindor's ambition that drove them apart and, like the rest of their relationship, their break up was quick.
They stayed quiet for a long time.
"We had some good times, Granger," Draco recalled, breaking the silence with a ghost of an ironic smile on his face and a faraway look in his eyes.
Hermione bobbed her head along in agreement, equally lost in her own thoughts.
More than a few more moments passed before she snapped back to reality. "I don't want to fight with you any more," she admitted, meeting his intense gaze once again. "Merlin knows we've done enough of that to last a lifetime." She shot him a wry smile, but the amusement didn't quite reach her eyes. "And you do know that I was never ashamed of you right?" she added earnestly. She wanted to make that clear, not knowing the next time she would ever speak to him.
He watched her for a moment before nodding. "Let's call it a truce then," he proposed as he reached out his hand between them, any residual anger having been dissolved.
Hermione stared at the familiar hand in front of her, leaving him hanging just long enough to be uncomfortable.
Despite the Gryffindor courage that she so prided herself on, a small part of her couldn't help but be scared of what might happen if she grabbed his hand. She had spent so long rebuilding her walls after Draco Malfoy, of all people, had somehow broke them down. Leaving him had hurt far more than she ever imagined, and she vowed to never let herself be so vulnerable again. If she held his hand again, even if only for an entirely unintimate handshake, she was afraid that she wouldn't be able to let him go a second time.
However, in the name of social graces, she met the hand between them for a quick, but meaningful, handshake. She couldn't help but feel an odd sense of finality when they had broken apart again, an unexpected seed of closure planted in her ever-busy mind.
After all these years of wondering, she had touched him again and survived.
"So Granger, how are you really?" he asked seriously, giving her the look she knew meant that he wouldn't take any bullshit.
"Everything's good, Draco. Just..." she trailed off, trying to articulate something that even she didn't quite understand or want to admit. "Busy," she ended lamely.
He didn't say anything, but a look of strange understanding passed over his face. But he would understand how she worked, she supposed.
She asked him more about his life, partly out of courtesy but party out of genuine curiosity.
He launched into an explanation of some new research he had started on the side, but as he spoke, she couldn't help but let her gaze drift over his shoulder. She eventually focused on Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, where a young woman and her son were settled beneath a brightly striped umbrella. Even seated, she was unfairly tall with tanned skin and dark, shining hair falling in waves down her back. She was, somehow, only made more beautiful by the protruding swell of her belly and accompanying glow in her expression. While the woman was certainly captivating, Hermione was far more interested in the small boy sitting next to her. He couldn't have been more than two or three years old, but he was impeccably dressed and his unmistakable blonde hair lay perfectly straight across his forehead, in a way that seemed out of place on a boy so young.
Draco trailed off mid sentence when he noticed her intense gaze over his shoulder, turning to find what had captured her attention so intensely. He let out a deep sigh when he realized what Hermione was so distracted with, but couldn't help it when a wide smile crept up onto his face as the woman, laughing, reached over to wipe off the smear of ice cream that had found its way onto her son's nose.
"Is that your son?" Hermione asked in a small voice, finally meeting Draco's eyes.
"Yes, that's Scorpius," he replied with a soft smile, then added, after a slight pause, "and that's my wife, Astoria." He gestured to the stunning woman, who was now listening with wide eyes and nodding along as Scorpius appeared to be telling quite the epic adventure.
Hermione didn't answer for a moment, lost in thought. She had always considered kids as a given part of her future, but now she was nearing 30 and still dreadfully single. Family had played such an important role in her life, and now she wondered if set her priorities wrong from the beginning. Of course, she adored being Auntie Mione to Harry and Ginny's boys and Ron's newborn, but she couldn't help but wish she was a mother herself. Even while she made great strides in the ministry, she felt as though she was missing out on something essential.
"You have a beautiful family, Draco." She tried to say it confidently. She really did mean it. But despite her efforts, her words came out in a meek voice that was entirely out of place on a woman so bold.
"Thank you," he said proudly, with a slight nod.
As she stood in front of Draco, watching his son make a mess of his flavor changing ice cream, she decided that there was no use in dwelling on what could have been. She was proud of where she was now, and no one could take that away from her.
"Well, I better get going," she said, glancing down at her watch, already knowing she was awfully late.
"Right," he replied while glancing back to his waiting family. "It was nice running into you, Granger. Good luck with everything."
She shot him a gracious smile and turned back to the Leaky Cauldron, back to her reality that was consumed with work.
"Hey, Hermione?" She looked over shoulder, already a few steps away, her smile faltering ever so slightly.
"Remember to take some time for yourself, alright? I know you've still got that bleeding heart of yours, but it's your life too."
Maybe it was because she had failed so miserably to truly listen to him before, but Hermione found herself clinging onto his every word and desperately hoping it was the truth.
A/N: What did you think of the ending? Do you hate it? Do you love it? I hope you enjoyed it, and let me know what you think (it honestly makes my day)!
I'm marking it as "complete" for now, but (depending on if anyone actually wants to read it) I'm considering adding more chapters to this story that would be set in the past, kind of like prequels. They would basically be short one-shots that go a little more in depth into Draco and Hermione's past relationship and how that played out. Maybe even some perspectives that are not Draco or Hermione? Anyways, I picture their relationship as being explosive, in a good way at first until it turns ugly (alas!)
I definitely will not be writing anything extra that's set after their encounter. I like having that up to the reader (and I also personally have multiple theories about what happens next that I think are all plausible, and I don't want to choose just one).
Another thing, if Hermione seems a little out of character here, I apologize. 1) I wanted to make her as true to the books as possible, but 2) I also wanted to show how she was caught entirely off-guard when meeting Draco and how he can bring out her insecurities. I tried to balance both those goals as much as possible, but I'm sorry if I failed miserably. Unfortunately, I'm not a professional writer.
Last, I also want to write more Dramione one-shots (potentially a longer, multi-chapter fic) that would might have a happier, more satisfying ending- so look out for that sometime in the future! (Life's getting pretty hectic soon though, so don't be disappointed if it isn't immediate)
Thanks for reading! (and especially if you actually read this ridiculously long author's note, if you can't tell, I'm super excited about this fic!)
x Clara-linh