Draco took a whiff from his cigar.
A bad habit, he admitted, but he could not stop. It was not his fault. He got hooked on it because of Neville Longbottom. The smoking habit was totally out of his control – just like everything else in his life.
After the war, he was imprisoned for 13 months in Azkaban. He didn't know why he only got 13 months – he'd done a lot of crimes. Being in prison, Draco found it strangely not that bad. Sure, he couldn't do anything but stare at the walls, but it was better than living with the Dark Lord. He felt oddly safe in his prison cell, more than he'd ever felt in his own home.
His father was publicly executed for his crimes and his mother had been executed privately because she saved Potter's life. To this day – four years after their death – Draco still did not know what to feel about that. He knew they had deserved it and he still blamed them for everything he went through. He knew they'd loved him, but they weren't good enough as parents. It wasn't as though he hated them; he just resented them a bit. He wished that they were alive today just so he could see their disappointed faces. He was fucking friends with Neville Longbottom, after all! Would they have disowned him for that, if they were alive? Draco hated questions that could not be answered.
He took another whiff from his little cancer stick.
When he was released from prison, Draco ran into Neville Longbottom. He'd been a bit shocked to find the man darker than before. He didn't even know why they became friends. They'd both been a fucking mess when they'd first talked. Neville had been as thin as his cigar, and Draco hadn't felt like he was alive at all during that time. They'd gotten so drunk that night that Draco had actually apologized for everything he'd said to Neville in Hogwarts. Then, Longbottom punched him in the face and a friendship was conceived.
They didn't have anything in common at all. Neville fucked with plants. Draco fucked with potions. Neville would be the type to jump off a building just to prove he could. Draco would be the type to taunt him as they climbed up the said building.
He wondered what his parents thought of him now if they were looking down on him from somewhere.
It was Neville's birthday today, and he had decided to celebrate in this filthy, tacky, and dark Muggle club. He'd invited his many friends from school – the ones Draco hadn't bonded with over cigarettes and alcohol. Potter, Weasley, the girl Weasley, Granger, Lovegood, Thomas, Finnigan, and Neville's Hufflepuff girlfriend were all inside the club. He'd decided to go out because he realized that he loathed the fake smiles they had given him. Their lies and forged joy peculiarly reminded Draco of his parents.
He suddenly heard the metal door of the repulsing club open. And the one who stepped outside from there was the great Hermione Granger. Despite the war she had fought with Weasley and Potter, the bright girl considered Neville as her best friend, so Draco had to put up with her for a few times.
She'd done a lot of good things for the world even after the war. She made some law about racists saying 'Mudblood' so that they could get arrested now. It was now considered as hate speech in their society.
Draco didn't really care, but, despite his earlier sentiments, he didn't want to go back to Azkaban.
The girl was scowling, even though she hadn't noticed him yet.
"Hello," he greeted kind of awkwardly.
Granger startled and turned to look at him. Her scowl deepened when she saw who he was.
"Malfoy," she growled.
So, the girl was angry. Draco was suddenly reminded of their Hogwarts days. It was quite fun to rile Granger up.
He dropped his cigar and Granger noticed.
Her mien reminded him of his old self. It was so full of disgust that it almost made him proud.
He decided to ignore it and casually leaned against the wall, shoving his hands into his pockets.
"What's your problem?"
"Ron."
Ah, of course, the beau. Granger was currently in a relationship with Weasley. Or maybe they had broken up again tonight. Neville had described their relationship as 'unhealthy'. Before then, Draco hadn't even known that a relationship could be described as such. But he could see why his good friend chose the word to describe the two. He'd only been in their company for a few hours, but he had seen the looks they'd given each other, the words they'd used for each other, and the way they'd touched each other. If he squinted really hard, he could've called their love passionate. But passion wasn't always a good thing, not when it was too much. It was clear that they hated each other as much as they loved each other.
He'd seen her cry on Neville's shoulder because of Weasley once or twice. Draco didn't understand. Why were they staying with each other?
"He got jealous because I was dancing with another guy, so he decided that it was okay to kiss another girl!" she exclaimed.
Draco suddenly felt uncomfortable. He didn't like it when people opened up to him. It was weird. And why was she even telling him this? Was he a substitute for Neville tonight?
"And then, he bloody screamed at me! In the middle of the club! He told me that I was such an unfaithful bitch, so I told him that he was a trifling arsehole who can't keep his junk inside his trousers!"
He tried to speak up, but Granger kept talking.
"Then I slapped him and broke up with him," she continued, "for good, this time!"
That was what she said every time they broke up, though.
"Did you just really cause a scene at Neville's party?" he asked her.
Realization dawned on Granger's face. She closed her eyes and silently swore.
"I am never going back to him," she suddenly declared. "He made me ruin Neville's birthday. I can never forgive him for that."
He didn't want to contradict her because he was too tired, so he just settled for:
"You do what you want, Granger."
"I want to get out of here," she told him.
Draco shrugged. "Then, just do so."
She studied his face for a few moments and before Draco started feeling uncomfortable again, she spoke up.
"Come with me."
He stared at her, shocked and confused. Did he hear her correctly? Was she drunk or something? He didn't want to deal with a drunk, broken-hearted girl tonight
"Neville would be pissed the fuck off," he said.
"Which is why you will do it," she confidently said.
"Come with me," she repeated, holding out a hand for him to take.
He wondered what her plans were.
"Where?"
She shrugged. "To a better place with better alcohol."
Draco's bad streak won in the end. His 'good' side was telling him to go back inside and leave Granger alone. His 'bad' side made him take Granger's hand and leave the party without telling Neville whatsoever.
He didn't even feel guilty.
. . .
Her mouth was divine. Felt like heaven, it did. Draco released a grunt to show how happy he was with her mouth on his cock.
His head was pounding. His vision was blurry, so he kept his eyes shut. He was getting dizzier by the second because of the alcohol and Granger's mouth.
He lowly moaned. Goddamn. She just licked the tip of his dick and it felt divine.
He blindly searched for her hair to grip.
She cupped his balls and decided to play with them as if she was a professional Quidditch player or something. It felt absolutely divine.
Draco pushed her head down to the base of his cock. He heard her choke and gag, but he didn't really care in this state.
"Suck," he rasped and she dutifully did what she was told to.
He groaned. Draco used the grip he had on her hair to push and pull her face, mouth still full of cock. He slowly fucked Granger's mouth until he hit that wonderful feeling of release.
His hand went limp in her hair, but she still chose to swallow it all. She was divine.
He didn't even know how they had ended up here. One minute, they were talking about Neville. The next, he was telling her that Weasley didn't deserve her. And then, they had started snogging at some point. One of them Apparated. And then, they took each others' clothes off. And then, she was sucking him to death.
Draco felt himself getting weary. He was almost asleep when he smelled something musky.
"Be fair, Draco," Granger softly spoke up from above him.
Wait. Above him? His eyes were still closed, so he didn't know where the girl was actually at.
He felt something wet brush against his lips. He'd thought it was Granger's own lips, so he gently kissed her.
He heard her gasp. What a delightful sound.
Then, he realized that what he was kissing had hair. Granger's lips didn't have hair, at least not the ones on her face. That could only mean…
Draco immediately gave her several long licks. Damn, she even tasted divine.
She forced her cunt into his mouth like she owned it.
Draco was raised a gentleman. He would be glad to return the favor. And so, he lapped her pussy up like he was French kissing it. He sucked on her clit just as hard as she sucked him. He licked her juices as if it were his life force.
Granger was so loud that his head couldn't take it anymore. It was so painful that it felt like it was going to explode anytime soon.
So, he just gave his everything and ate her up like a man starved of pussy. Thankfully, Granger reached her climax and was now whimpering above him.
Like she had previously done for him, he made do to swallow all of her come.
She was so goddamned divine.
He heard Granger panting, and then everything stopped.
. . .
Two pairs of eyes stared at each other in horror.
Draco had woken up without a headache, surprisingly. He'd meant to go outside his room to cook himself some breakfast, but then he noticed that someone was lying atop him. Then he realized that someone was none other than Hermione fucking Granger.
They were both nude. Draco tasted something funny in his mouth and his headache suddenly came back to him.
He hadn't realized that he was shifting uncomfortably under her, and as a result, Granger woke up.
When she had finally taken sight of Draco, her eyes widened remarkably.
She immediately pushed herself off of him, taking the blanket with her and using it to cover up her body.
Her eyebrows were furrowed and she was obviously deep in thought.
"Fuck," she cussed.
Draco ignored his headache and stood up, looking for his trousers. When he'd finally found them, he quickly pulled the piece of clothing up his legs.
He chanced a glance at Granger. She was sitting on his chaise now, biting her lip, and still thinking.
He grabbed her clothes from the floor and handed them to her, without looking directly at her.
The girl quickly took it and he heard her dress herself.
"What now?" he asked her hesitantly when she'd finished dressing.
Granger swallowed. "I don't know."
Why she had not left immediately after waking up on top of his naked form, Draco did not know. But as a good host, he asked her if she wanted some breakfast.
Why she had said yes to his offer, Draco also did not know.
. . .
They ate together, across from each other, peacefully.
The silence was nice. It almost felt like he was alone again and –
"Where did you learn how to cook?"
And of course, Granger had to ruin the moment.
Draco shrugged. "From recipe books."
Granger's eyes widened and she raised a brow. "Really?"
He nodded silently.
"I never pegged you as the type to cook."
He didn't know why she was so shocked; cooking was a skill that adults needed to be adept at. One simply could not live a single life without knowing how to cook. Maybe that was why Granger was staying with Weasley.
"You don't know how to cook?" Draco decided to ask, wanting to make their conversation last.
Granger shook her head. "When I was younger, I didn't want to become a housewife and I'd thought that if I didn't learn how to cook or clean or do laundry or any of that stuff, I would never be a housewife."
Draco chuckled. "Why didn't you want to be a housewife?"
"It didn't seem appealing to me at the time – still doesn't seem that appealing, actually," Granger admitted.
And now, he was seeing the feminist side of her - the side where she dared defy all of the misogynistic stereotypes that had been put on her. What a woman.
He wondered what a woman like her was doing with Weasley. The redheaded idiot seemed like the only stupid decision she'd ever made. She really did deserve better. Draco hoped that their break up last night had been the last and that she'd never go back to him again. Draco hoped the best for her. She deserved the best.
"What are going to do about Weasley?" he blurted out.
She did not expect the question from him. She must've thought that he was going to ignore what happened to them last night.
She sighed. "I'm so tired of him already. We're not good together, I know that. Neville has told me that too many times now. I just… it's not that I don't want to move on, I do. It's just really hard."
Hmm. This was actually the first time he'd heard her admit that she and Weasley were not good together. Was this progress a day after their break up?
"I don't regret what happened between us last night," she told him, eyes staring into his deeply. "It felt… right – I don't know what I'm saying."
"I do," Draco mumbled.
"And Ron sleeps with other girls every time we break up, anyway, so there's that."
So, did she just use him last night as petty revenge? That seemed kind of low for Granger. He didn't mind it, though. He wasn't hurt or anything like that. He was quite used to being used by others.
Then, Draco's thoughts ventured off to his father. What would he think of him now that he'd spent the night with a Mudblood?
Draco supposed that the thoughts of the dead didn't really matter.
"Let's go to Neville," Granger suddenly suggested.
"What?"
"We need to go to Neville's house, apologize to him for leaving his party without telling him," she explained.
Since when had there been a 'we' in their, for a lack of a better word, relationship? It was always Draco alone or Granger alone. They had never merged as 'we' in his mind before.
Draco suddenly felt uncomfortable.
"I'll drop by his house later," he secretly denied.
Granger almost looked disappointed. Strange, indeed.
"Okay," she responded lamely. "I'll be going now. Thanks for the breakfast, Malfoy."
Draco felt an overwhelming urge to smoke after she'd used his Floo.
. . .
"Get a fucking job, Malfoy," his good friend, Neville Longbottom, snarled at him.
He was obviously tired of Draco Flooing in and out of his flat just out of boredom.
Draco ignored that. He didn't have to work. He had enough money in his vault to keep him alive. No need for such a mundane task like working.
"Let's go out for dinner tonight."
Neville shook his head while rubbing his temples. "You really need to get yourself a girlfriend. You can't keep pursuing me, Draco. I'm not single anymore."
Draco scoffed. "I would never go for someone like you, Neville. Merlin only knows what you do with those plants when no one's around."
His friend rolled his eyes. "I don't smoke them if that's what you mean."
"No," Draco said. "I actually thought you were cheating on your girlfriend and fucking around with a flower."
"The only flower that I'd be willing to fuck is your mother, and you know that, Draco."
Draco actually winced a bit because of the odd comment.
"Of course, you would shag women who are buried in the dirt," he muttered.
"Can't go to dinner with you tonight," Neville finally responded properly.
"And why not?"
"I already promised this night to Hermione," he informed him. "She and Ron had been avoiding each other ever since the breakup."
"Then, I'll come with you."
There was no more food in his house tonight and he didn't want to dine in a restaurant alone. His only friend was Neville Longbottom, so it was just right to invite him.
Neville stared at him skeptically.
Draco knew what he was thinking. Was he even capable of being in the same room with Hermione Granger after what happened to them eight months ago? The answer was yes.
And again, yes, he did tell Neville what had happened to them. It wasn't a problem as Granger had told Neville as well. To say that he disapproved was an understatement. Neville told him that he shouldn't have messed with Granger and Weasley. Their relationship was too messy for Draco to handle.
"I don't know," Neville sighed.
"There'd be no problem at all," Draco reassured. "Let me come with you. You know that I don't like being in public alone."
The reason why he practically abhorred being alone in public was because of the judging stares. Many people, unsurprisingly, hated him after the war. Many people thought that he should've been executed with his parents. Those people had no problem with voicing their opinions aloud, in public. It was humiliating, to say the least. He then realized that people didn't make nasty comments about him when a war hero was sitting in the same table as him, so he made sure to drag Neville along to every dinner, lunch, brunch, and even clothes shopping that he needed to do. He was thankful that Longbottom tolerated him enough for that.
"I don't think Hermione would appreciate it if I brought you along," Neville excused.
That hurt a bit, but that was okay because he was going to convince him anyway.
"It would just be the three of us," Draco exclaimed. "The generic version of the Golden Trio! How long has it been since we had hung out together?"
He wasn't that much of a fool. He knew that Neville deliberately made it so that he and Granger never had a time together after their one-night stand. Neville just plainly didn't like the idea of them together.
"Just let me come with you, please."
Neville sighed once again. "Fine."
Draco couldn't help the smirk that had broken out on his face. Neville might not like the idea of him and Granger spending time together, but Draco's pestering was something he hated more.
"Be here, later at 7," Neville continued. "If you're late, I will leave you."
. . .
The restaurant was rather casual for a wizarding one. By casual he meant that it was not a restaurant his parents would go to. Neville had told him that it just opened last week and witches and wizards loved the food already.
Draco saw Granger wave at Neville before frowning when she realized that he brought him along.
Granger shared a hug with Neville before the two sat down.
"I didn't know you'd be here, Malfoy," Granger acknowledged him.
"I didn't have enough food in my house for a meal, so I asked Neville to go out to dinner with me. But then, he told me he already had plans with you." Draco briefly explained, making a point to keep his eyes on hers.
He hadn't expected that it would be this awkward, to be honest.
"You two can just pretend I'm not here," he reassured her, "I just tagged along for dinner."
Granger seemed satisfied with his words for she started a conversation with Neville.
Draco remained silent, but he still had ears so he could hear every damned thing they talked about.
"How are you, Neville?" she asked.
"Alright," Neville answered. "Just been dealing with pints of stress from work. How about you? You look quite well for a woeful woman."
Yes, this was how Neville joked with Granger. No insults, no exaggerated sighs, and no comments about fucking her dead mum. It was still so strange to see how different he acted towards the girl. His jests were vastly different from when he was joking with Draco. Granger was a grown woman after all. She didn't enjoy immature and insensitive jokes like they did.
Granger chuckled. "I'm also doing okay, actually, considering what I'm going through."
"Are you, really?" Neville sounded skeptical.
"Yes." Granger took a deep breath. "It's almost too good to be true."
"Maybe this is what you two are supposed to be: far away from each other and no communication at all," Neville supplied. "Tell me, do you still miss him?"
It took a moment for Granger to speak again.
"I do," she admitted softly, "but then, I remember everything we've said and done to each other. That simply cannot be undone."
Neville hummed in agreement. "You go, girl."
What in the actual fuck? You go, girl?
Draco briefly wondered if his friend, his Neville, the one who smoked cigars nonstop, drank alcohol as a substitute for water, and cursed like the swear words were running out, was still there, inside Granger's Neville.
"How's Hannah?"
Hannah Abbott was Neville's girlfriend. The bloke was so bloody in love with the witch that Draco thought that it was almost pathetic. Hannah was actually quite nice to him, so he'd never say anything bad about her, but it was like Hannah's Hufflepuff-ness was a virus that she passed on to Neville.
Draco saw Neville's eyes light up when he heard his girlfriend's name.
"She's fine," Neville answered. "She's a lot busier than me, though."
"You should always make time for each other," Granger advised. "You know that too much time in work can destroy a relationship."
Neville nodded, biting his lip.
He tuned out the rest of their conversation but soon snapped out of it when Granger spoke to him again.
"How about you, Malfoy?"
He stared at her dumbly. "Me?"
Granger chortled at his expression. "Yes, you. How are you? It's been quite a while."
Even Neville was shocked to hear her asking how Draco was.
He cleared his throat and regained his composure.
"I'm quite alright myself," he answered truthfully. "Just a bit bored with life, actually."
"You don't have a job?"
Draco shook his head. "I don't need a job."
"He does nothing all day, Hermione," Neville intervened, "absolutely nothing but barge into my flat, expecting some kind of entertainment."
Granger looked at him a bit concerned.
"Do you want to work?" she asked him. "There are so many opportunities in the Ministry today. I could just recommend you for a job that fits you and you'd get it immediately."
Nope. Draco didn't want to get a boring job in the Ministry. He just wanted to experiment with potions in his own kitchen. He was perfectly fine with that.
And he heavily doubted that Granger could get him a job that quick. She might've saved the world and all, but Draco was still a former Death Eater. Draco still had something ugly tattooed on his left forearm. People still hated him. Not that he blamed them, of course, their anger was justified. He knew he deserved it after all the things he had said and done in the past.
"Thanks, but no." Draco politely denied. "I don't have many useful skills."
Neville snorted. "That's absolute bullshit, Hermione. He's as good in Potions just as I'm good in Herbology."
Draco had learned to love Potions at a young age because of his godfather. Bless his dark and heartless soul. Whenever his mother and father would leave the country, they would send Draco to Hogwarts to be taken care of by Severus Snape. Draco had watched him make potions in front of him. Full frontal experience. Even as a child, it was so interesting to him. When Draco was 10, before he was in Hogwarts, his godfather decided to teach him how to make a simple ache-relieving potion. He'd successfully done it on his first try, probably because he had watched Severus make it a hundred times. That was the proudest his father had been of him.
Granger stared at him again, this time with a smile on her face.
"I honestly still don't want a job," Draco looked down at the table. "Sorry."
"It's alright," Granger said, still smiling. "It's not for everyone, I suppose."
Her smile widened as she spoke. He had honestly thought that she would be judging him for his choice of not getting a job. Huh. It seemed like Granger was nicer than he'd originally thought.
"Enough with the work talk," Neville spoke up. "Let's actually order some food."
. . .
An hour into their dinner, someone came by to inform Neville that his girlfriend was in St. Mungos… again. Neville apologized and said that he had to leave for the hospital immediately. And he did.
Hannah suffered from terrible nightmares because of the war and she would often hurt herself in her sleep. Her parents had died in the war. Why must the little people suffer in and after the war while the big people like Potter were happy and not spending their days wallowing in regret? Draco thought that it was unfair.
Draco knew how it felt like – to be hopeless and depressed. He was both of them when he was in prison. The Aurors would laugh at him whenever he would have a panic attack. It was horrible. It felt horrible.
Draco also had a few suicide attempts after he was released. He had been breathing, but he no longer felt alive. His parents were dead. Everyone hated him. He had nothing to do but die. He'd thought that he deserved death for all the terrible things he'd done. The will hadn't been there anymore. But of course, one day, Neville found him with his wand pointed at his own head. Draco remembered that day as if it just occurred yesterday. He had just recovered from a panic attack. He had been visualizing all the people he'd seen get mutilated, tortured, raped, and killed and that he had done nothing to stop it. He was a mess when Neville found him.
Neville was Draco's own Harry Potter. Neville was his chosen one. Neville was his savior. Neville was his hero. When he had saved him that night, Draco promised to be better. Draco vowed to never attempt suicide again.
That was the night when Draco saved him, too. Neville had used to have little regard for his own life before that – always getting drunk and passing out in Muggle streets, but when he saw Draco vulnerable like that, everything changed. For the better. For the both of them.
"You know how it feels to be like Hannah?" Draco asked Granger, genuinely curious.
What did the Brightest Witch of Her Age know about being at your lowest?
"Not personally, no," she answered, blushing slightly.
Unfair. Draco didn't know that it was possible to come out of a war with your mental state still healthy, but here was the proof, sitting right in front of him.
He guessed Granger really was perfect.
"That's good, I guess," Draco said sheepishly.
She nodded. "It was nice to see you here, Malfoy. I'm glad Neville brought you with him."
He was slightly taken aback by her words. He didn't know what to say to that, in fact. He didn't expect her to say that to him.
"Yeah, you too," he chose to say.
After that, they fell into a nice conversation quite quickly. Granger was nice to talk to. She always had nice things to say. She shared her nice opinions and kind ideals. Granger was nice, all in all.
While he talked to her, Draco felt like he was nice, too – even if he was not.
Draco accompanied Granger to her home after their dinner. At first, of course, she refused but eventually agreed when he told her that he wanted to talk to her more.
When they had arrived at her door, Granger gave him two things: a smile and a short kiss.
The night almost felt like a date.
. . .
Draco stepped on the former long cigar to take the burn out. He rubbed his palms on his trousers, hoping that it would take the scent of the smoke away from his fingers. He sniffed his hands. It never worked. Draco didn't know why he kept trying.
He sighed. It was 5th of June today, his birthday. He was getting older.
Draco loved his birthday when he was a child. It was the day when he received more things than usual. It was also the day when his parents actually paid him some kind of attention. Most days, Draco was just left to the house-elves.
But now, he didn't like it one bit. Every passing birthday meant he was getting closer to his parents' age, and the day when he would be older than his dead parents would come.
Draco mused on what kind of person he was going to be when he was finally their age. Was he going to be just like them? Would he just spend his days in a big old mansion, holding galas and balls to socialize with people like him?
He suddenly felt an urge to shiver. That thought really did sound awful and boring. Just like his parents, he thought, awful and boring.
In the few times that Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy took care of him, Draco had thought of them as awful and boring. His father would just prattle on about family legacy and wealth. His mother would reprimand him for every fun thing that he tried to do. Then, they would bring him along to every dinner, every lunch, every ball, and every other event that were just as awful and boring as them.
No. Draco would not be like his parents in the future, thank you very much. He would be lovelier and much more exciting than they had ever hoped to be.
He heard the door to his bedroom open slowly. That was funny, he didn't remember hearing someone go through his Floo –
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DRACO!"
– Of fucking course.
Neville Longbottom and his Hufflepuff girlfriend, Hannah Abbott, came busting through his doorway. Neville was holding a two-tier cake while wearing some sort of a birthday hat and Hannah handed two wrapped boxes over to Draco.
"Happy birthday," Hannah smiled.
Draco put the presents on his bed and smiled back.
"Thank you," he told them.
Last year, Neville made him celebrate his birthday by dragging him to a beach of all places. The year before that, Neville took him to a strip club. A wizarding strip club. Draco hadn't even known that there was such a thing!
Ever since Astoria Greengrass had broken up with him on his birthday three years ago, Neville thought that Draco hated his birthday. Well, he did and that was a part of the reason why, but Draco still didn't want them to put so much effort for him.
Astoria and Draco had dated for five months before she broke up with him. He had been in love with her, that he could admit, but Astoria couldn't love him at all. She had told him that when she'd broken up with him on his bloody birthday. He didn't blame her, but the break up really hurt him – not that he would admit that to anyone out loud. The point was; the break up gave Draco more reasons to hate his name day.
"You really shouldn't smoke inside the house, Draco," Hannah softly scolded.
Draco just nodded, still smiling.
"Now, let's go downstairs," Neville said. "Hermione's preparing the food. She managed to get Molly Weasley to cook for your birthday."
His eyebrows went up in shock.
Granger was here? Molly Weasley cooked for him?
Maybe he shouldn't be shocked. After all, he and Granger had been 'going out' for the past few months. She would always invite him to lunch, and he would sometimes cook for her. There were a few times when they snogged a bit. She might have sucked his cock twice or thrice. He had even eaten her out and fingered her. Still, that didn't mean they were close enough to attend each other's birthday parties, right?
Maybe he was wrong. Maybe they were that close.
And to be honest, Draco was really happy that she was here.
. . .
"Happy birthday, Malfoy," Granger grinned and proceeded to give him a hug.
He felt his cheeks reddening as he reluctantly hugged her back.
"Thanks."
Soon enough, Granger released him, and she gave him his present – wrapped in green, of course.
"Thank you," he repeated.
He really was thankful.
Neville gently placed the cake on the table and used his wand to light the candles.
"Make a wish, birthday boy," Neville grinned at him as well.
All three of them were grinning at him. Draco had never felt so loved before. It was overwhelmingly nice.
As he blew the candles out, Draco wished for eternal happiness for Neville, Hannah, and Granger. After all, they deserved it far better than he ever would.
Again, maybe he was wrong. Maybe celebrating his birthday wasn't that bad.
. . .
Draco didn't exactly know when Granger had started sleeping in his bed, but he did know that it wasn't a good experience. Granger always hogged the blankets, practically suffocated him with her cuddling, and would sometimes claim the bed for herself and kick Draco out of it.
He sat on the floor beside his bed, frowning. Granger, of course, had taken up all the space on his mattress. Should he transfigure his chaise into a bed? Or should he just hop back on the bed and pull Granger on top of him?
He heard shuffling on the bed and knew that Granger had woken up. He also knew that she wasn't really fully awake yet.
"Draco?" she softly called out in her sleep-addled voice.
She only called him Draco on two occasions: one, when they were having sex and two, when she was sleepy or exhausted.
Draco sighed, slowly standing up. He lied back down on his bed and took Granger in his arms, pulling her atop him.
She moved her head to look at him.
"You're warm," she mumbled sleepily, eyes half-closed, hugging him tighter.
It was uncomfortable, but he always made do just for Granger.
"I know," he said, "go back to sleep now."
She placed a kiss on his bare chest and nuzzled further in before going back to sleep like he told her to.
After his birthday, he and Granger had gotten closer. Like, couldn't let a day pass without seeing each other type of close. They had avoided going to public places, though, because they knew that they would be the talk of the country if they did. And also because they weren't actually anything – Draco hadn't even asked her out on a date yet. They had sex, yes, but nothing really that emotionally special. The sex was phenomenal, but it was just that – sex.
Draco reached for his nightstand and grabbed a cigar. He couldn't go through this chain of thought without smoking. He took his wand from under the pillows and lit the cancer stick that was slowly killing him.
He put the cigar between his lips. His arms were wrapped around Granger so he could sit up easily, dragging her with him.
He breathed in. Smoking calmed him, made him more rational, and utterly pleasured his nerves – kind of like Granger in a sense. Ha! She hated it when he smoked, but never felt the need to make him stop.
Draco suddenly wondered if he would actually stop smoking for the witch that was currently lying on his chest.
He didn't know what kind of relationship he had with her. It wasn't like his friendship with Neville or his girlfriend. It wasn't like his previous relationship with Astoria. She wasn't like anything he'd had before.
Granger was new. She was the type of witch to hex you if she'd thought that it was the right thing to do. She didn't like it when he didn't reciprocate. She had told him one time that if she made him come, he'd have to make her come as well. She liked his cooking, always complimented him on how good he was. She still didn't want to learn how to cook, though. She loved cats, basically forced her pet into his flat. She had a thing for justice. She never did anything to anyone who didn't deserve it. She was open-minded, always asking him for his opinions and suggestions. She was too stubborn for her own good. She didn't listen to him when he tried to tell her that she was wrong. She was honest, once told him that his robes looked awful. And he made her laugh.
Why the fuck hadn't Draco asked her out yet?
He made a mental note to ask her first thing in the morning. He decided that he would take her to a luxurious Muggle restaurant if she said yes.
Draco took a last whiff from his cigar before taking the burn out and tossing it on his nightstand.
The answer was yes. Draco would actually stop smoking for the witch that was sleeping on his chest.
. . .
"Would you like to go on a date with me this evening?"
Granger paused in the process of tying her hair up. She turned to him, a shocked expression present on her face.
"A date?" she repeated.
Draco cleared his throat. His hands were slightly shaking now. He didn't know if she would say yes or not.
"Y-yes." He glanced down momentarily, his pale cheeks turning pink. "A date."
He was acting like an idiot, like a 14-year-old boy trying to ask a girl out to Hogsmeade or something. He was so bloody pathetic. God, he wouldn't even blame her if she said no, he was that –
"You're serious?" Granger raised a brow, looking quite skeptical.
Draco couldn't help but scoff at her words. Did she honestly think he was joking? Why would he even joke about this kind of stuff?
"No, Granger," he answered, suddenly turning cold.
This was honestly so embarrassing. Maybe he should have just taken her to dinner and told her that it was a date – anything was better than this mess!
"Of course I'd like to go on a date with you, Malfoy."
"Really?"
He couldn't stop the smile that was forming on his face.
Granger smiled back at him, nodding.
Draco went up to her and kissed her on the lips.
"Thank you," he said after they pulled away.
She chuckled. "For what?"
He shrugged. "For saying yes."
She laughed a bit more at that. "Alright. Now, leave me alone! I have to get ready for work!"
That was right, Granger kept a few of her work robes in his closet. Then, she would go back to her home to get the rest of her work files.
Draco frowned as she pushed him out the bathroom door. Maybe he should ask her to move in so that she wouldn't have to go home to get all her stuff.
. . .
She forcefully shoved him onto the bed. His back hit the mattress harshly, and he groaned slightly.
Granger straddled his hips and resumed their rough snogging. Her teeth pulled on his lower lip. Draco hissed in pain. Her tongue searched for his own, and they battled with their mouths as swords.
Draco's hands traveled to her perfect arse. She moaned when he squeezed her butt cheeks tightly. She removed her lips from his and wasted no time in sucking his neck, leaving disgusting hickeys as she went down.
Granger wandlessly vanished his trousers. She immediately grabbed his cock, stroking it until it was fully hard.
Draco grimaced in pleasure. He rested his left arm across his eyes as Granger put her lips around his cock. She sucked him eagerly, toying with the tip using her tongue, and cupping his balls with her hand.
Draco had requested for a reservation in the most expensive Muggle restaurant Neville could find. He bought a nice Muggle suit for him to wear. He told Neville to buy 500 red roses and four long candles. He had arranged the candles and flowers in her bedroom (in her flat), so she would be pleasantly surprised when she went home after work. He had also gone back to his terrible childhood home, Malfoy Manor, to get one bottle of wine from the cellars so they could drink after their date.
They hadn't even had the chance to taste the wine because Granger put her lips on his immediately after Apparating back to his flat. From then on, she had continued to ravage him – Merlin, he hoped she would never stop.
When Granger rubbed the tip of his dick against the inside of her cheeks, Draco shuddered and moaned.
She then proceeded to bob her head up and down his cock, swirling her tongue around while she was at it.
Draco sighed. What did he ever do to deserve this kind of pleasure?
Her jaw must've gotten tired because she pulled her mouth away from him and just kissed the sides of his dick while she jerked him off rapidly.
It was her sucking his balls that did it. He felt his cock warming up and then, the explosion.
Draco smirked weakly when Hermione swallowed his seed. He ran his hands through her frizzy hair, loving the texture of it.
"You're so beautiful," he whispered, feeling utterly euphoric after his orgasm.
She looked up at him with a smile.
"You too," she replied, going back to her old position where she straddled his hips and they were face-to-face again. "You're more beautiful than I am."
"No."
He gripped her hair to pull her head closer to him, so he could finally kiss that wonderful mouth.
He dragged his other hand to the hem of her dress. He slowly lifted the fabric up until his hand was an inch away from her heat.
She hastily pulled her lips away from his.
"You don't have to," she told him.
Draco chuckled. "But you want me to."
He pulled her knickers down – just enough to give him room for comfortable fingering. He cupped her intimately and found that she was wet enough for penile penetration – but, he wasn't a randy teenager anymore. He couldn't quite recover as fast as before. He gently tapped her clit with his middle finger. Granger gasped in delight. He rubbed it with care, knowing that she didn't like it rough when it came to fingering. He spread her lower lips, keeping a pressed down thumb on her clit, and entered two fingers into her heat.
She buried her neck in his shoulder, whimpering as he felt her walls close around his fingers.
He consistently rubbed her clit while sliding his fingers in and out of her pussy.
He continued doing this until she finally opened her mouth in a silent scream and came from his three fingers.
Draco felt his fingers get coated with her cream. He slowly pulled his fingers out from her cunt, and tasted the liquid that was hers.
He sucked on his fingers clean as Granger regained her breath.
She kissed his shoulder. "Thank you."
Draco pulled her knickers back on, and also pulled her dress down.
"For what?"
"For the flowers," she responded softly. "For the amazing dinner. For everything you did tonight."
"It was our first date," he told her. "I wanted to make it special."
Granger pushed herself up from his chest to look at him.
"It was special," she smiled. "It was nothing like any date I've ever had before."
"We were supposed to drink the wine on my kitchen counter after our dinner, but you had other plans," he lightly chuckled.
She stared at him, unmoving, for a very long time before she spoke again.
"I love you."
Her words made him feel giddy inside, made him feel something he'd never felt before.
He instantly and harshly smacked his lips against hers.
"I love you, too."
. . .
"I'm still not sure about you dating Hermione," his prat of a friend, Neville, brought up.
They were currently sitting in Draco's kitchen, eating Draco's food, and trading gossip like a bunch of schoolgirls.
After fourteen months of dating, Neville was still skeptical about his relationship with Hermione. He thought that they weren't supposed to be compatible.
"I mean, you've been together for more than a year, and you still haven't gone public," Neville continued.
Draco sneered at him. "Our relationship is none of your business."
"Yes, it is, though." Neville insisted.
Draco rolled his eyes, knowing that it was pointless to argue with him on this specific topic.
"I'd honestly thought she would drop you after a month," he admitted, shoving his spoon in his mouth.
"Hermione's your friend, Neville," Draco pointed out. "You aren't supposed to think of your friends like that. And where is this coming from, anyway? You weren't saying this bullshit when she practically moved into my flat."
Neville shrugged. "I thought it was just sex for the both of you, some kind of release or something. I had never thought that it would go deeper than that."
"You have little faith in us, then," Draco concluded.
Neville sighed, took a big gulp from his cup, and looked at him firmly. "You don't know how messed up her relationship was with Ron. You haven't seen them enough to know that dating Hermione after their break up is a bad idea."
"She's moved on, Neville."
"How can you be so sure?" Neville queried. "Maybe you're just gauze over her broken heart."
To be completely honest, Draco had also thought that that was the case in the beginning. When she'd started inviting him for lunch, he'd thought that he was just a distraction from her heartbreak. It hadn't really bothered him back then. As long as the sex was good, he hadn't really cared, but things changed. She'd told him that she loved him many times. She wasn't even speaking to Weasley anymore ever since their break up. She'd moved in to his flat, and changed his life for the better. He knew that she and Weasley were a thing of the past – something to regret.
Draco raised a blond brow. "You think she's using me?"
His friend reddened a bit and looked away, but he nodded.
"I think Hermione is the person you need to talk to about this," he said, coldly. "I'm sure that she wouldn't appreciate her best friend doubting her like that – "
"I just know how much she loves Ron," Neville interrupted, "and I know how much Ron loves her."
"Loved," Draco corrected, snarling, "past tense, Neville. They're over and done with each other! Weasley has a new girlfriend now, for fuck's sake! Maybe you're just the one who can't bloody move on!"
Neville sighed in defeat, actually raising his hands in the air. "Alright."
Draco breathed, trying to calm himself. "Look, mate, we're two consenting adults in a really good relationship. And don't give me that look; you know that this has been good for me."
"Okay. Do what you want," his friend gave in. "I just don't want you to be the next Lavender Brown or something."
Draco physically winced at that comment. Lavender Brown was one of the few women Weasley had dated during one of him and Hermione's off times. They had dated for eight months, and the redheaded idiot even proposed to her. They were supposed to get married, but Weasley abandoned her suddenly. And the next time she had seen him was in the papers, holding Hermione Granger's hand.
Draco also did not want to be the next Lavender Brown.
"Fuck, I lost my appetite," Draco pushed himself off the table and stood up.
Neville agreed. He saw his friend reach for something in his pocket. When he'd taken it out, Draco realized that it was a pack of cigarettes.
He turned away hastily and proceeded to clean up the table.
Neville tossed the pack to him after Draco heard him lighting one up. The scent of it filled his nose. Draco had to shut his eyes to stop himself from giving up to the bad habit.
"I quitted," he told his friend.
Neville was so shocked that he sputtered and coughed up the smoke he'd been inhaling.
Then, he laughed nervously. "Stop fucking with me, Draco."
The blond gave him a look to indicate just how much he was fucking with his friend.
"She made you stop?"
Draco shortly nodded.
"Fuck me," Neville cussed. "You really are bloody in love with her."
"You're so pathetic now, mate," he continued, shaking his head in faux disappointment.
Draco doubled in laughter.
. . .
He held his head in his hands, glaring at the newspaper that was in front of him.
Granger was muttering to him about… something. He honestly didn't know what she was saying nor did he care.
There, ever so present in the newspaper, was a picture of him and Hermione. They were holding hands and laughing about something he couldn't remember. It was taken in the Leaky Cauldron (they'd been visiting there quite often because Neville and his now pregnant Hufflepuff wife, Hannah resided above the place).
'WAR HEROINE CONSORTS WITH A DEATH EATER'
What a great headline, made to catch the attention of the masses. It worked. After work, Hermione had been confronted by the great hero, Harry fucking Potter. Hermione told him that Potter told her to be careful around Draco. That wasn't the thing that made him angry – that was something he'd expected from Potter.
What made him angry was the article written about them, specifically the things the writer said about Hermione. The writer talked of ridiculous shite. They shamed Hermione for being with him – the writer must've forgotten that Granger had saved all of their lives. The article ended with a comment about Hermione not being smart as people believed she was.
Fuck that! If anything, Hermione's intelligence was underrated. She told him that she'd made Polyjuice Potion in her 2nd year, for fuck's sake! Why did people still doubt this amazing witch? She was talented with or without a wand, with or without saying incantations, and she all learned about all of that from reading a goddamn book! No man or woman could ever compare to Hermione's greatness.
"We should sue them," he told her, fiercely and determinedly.
The witch just frowned. "Why are you so worked up about that newspaper?"
He picked the said newspaper up from the table and harshly handed it to her.
"Have you even read it?" Draco growled.
She shook her head.
"Look at all the terrible things they've said about you!" he almost screamed.
Hermione took the paper from him and quickly scanned it over. Then, she tossed it back to the table.
She shrugged, crossing her arms. "Nothing they haven't said before."
Her nonchalance made him even more furious.
"They said that I don't fucking deserve you!" he hissed, "and they were right."
His witch simply raised a brow.
"So that's what this is all about?"
"I – " Draco sighed. "They're right. You should not be with me."
Hermione snorted. "And who should I be with? Neville?"
He buried his head in his hands once more.
"I don't know," he admitted. "We – we're not right together."
He heard Hermione scoff, and then she went closer to him. She took his hands in hers and sat on his lap.
"It doesn't matter," she told him as she put her arms around his neck. "What matters is, I love you."
Then, she kissed him.
All his troubles instantly went away as she pressed her lips against his. She sounded so sure in her statement that Draco believed her. It was all that mattered – their love. Nothing else. All that they needed was each others' love. Nothing more. What others thought of them was useless for all they wanted was each other. No one else.
. . .
Hermione's behavior had been worrying him.
She didn't kiss him back anymore. She never initiated sex anymore. She wouldn't even speak to him unless he spoke to her first.
Something was troubling her, and he hoped that doing this would make her feel better.
Draco was dressed in his Muggle suit – a favorite of Hermione's. He was waiting for her to come home from work. He had cooked dinner for her and had brought her favorite brand of white wine.
After two years of being together, Draco was finally going to propose to the love of his life. He'd been contemplating about doing it for a while now. He got the ring from his mother's vault. He'd finally decided to do it when Hermione looked so downtrodden one night, and he thought that engagement was going to make her happy.
He took a deep breath. He hoped she would say yes.
He heard the Floo go off. He sat on his chair with a smile to complete his look.
Hermione entered the kitchen, frowning. Her hair was a mess, some of the buttons on her shirt were open, and she looked more beautiful than ever.
He loved her so much. He didn't even love his own parents like this. Whatever. They were dead now.
"Hermione," he drawled, knowing the effect it had on her.
She startled. "Oh, Draco."
"I've prepared dinner for us," he informed her. "Come, take a seat."
She sat on the chair across from him, still looking troubled.
"How was work?" he started the conversation.
Hermione shrugged, staring at her food intently. "Alright."
"You don't look alright," Draco pointed out.
"I'm fine."
She had been like this for a few weeks now, only keeping her answers short (usually just one or two words). It annoyed him, but he ignored that for now.
Their so-called conversation throughout dinner consisted of Draco asking questions and Hermione shrugging them off.
Here was the hard part – the actual kneeling down and asking her to marry him part.
"I'll wash the dishes later." Hermione made a move to stand up, but he grabbed her arm and stopped her.
"Hermione," he softly called out with a nervous smile. "Before you came into my life, I was a bloody mess. I was inhaling cigars like they were my oxygen. I was having mindless sex with everyone that was willing. I had thought that that was going to be my life forever, but you – you changed everything."
Hermione's frown deepened, realizing what was going to happen. Tears were starting to form in her eyes.
Draco took that as a good sign and proceeded.
"I'm nothing without you, Hermione Granger." The words were coming out of his mouth uncontrollably. What drove him to continue was his love for her. "Please. Marry me?"
He took out the ring and handed it to her.
Hermione burst into tears.
"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck," she cursed, her voice shaken by her tears. "Draco – Draco, I am so sorry."
He felt something painful in his chest.
Something terrible was going to happen.
"I'm so sorry," she sobbed. "Ron – he – he visited me last month. Fuck, I'm so sorry, Draco."
Draco clenched the ring with his fist. He fixed his expression into an apathetic one, looking as if he didn't care at all. He felt something going up his throat. He swallowed it, whatever it was, painfully.
"W-what happened?" he asked her with the calmest voice he could muster.
"No – no!" she denied. "I would never! I won't cheat on you – ever!"
Draco wasn't sure if it was wise to believe her now.
"I just – " She was shaking. "I love you – "
He shook his head.
" I do," she persisted. "I love you, Draco. Ron is just – he's - "
She broke into sobs, unable to speak, looking utterly broken on her knees.
The sight broke his heart in half, but knowing that Hermione loved Weasley more than him smashed the blood-pumping muscle in his chest into pieces.
His hands were starting to numb. He was getting dizzier. His vision was going blurry.
"I'm so sorry," she continued to whimper.
Draco dropped the ring on the table, such a useless thing it was. Now he knew why his mother kept it hidden in her vault. It was an ugly thing, too. He had forgotten the reason why he had picked this one.
He felt something wet drip down his cheek, and he immediately wiped it away.
She looked so beautiful, even in this form, but, at the same time, he couldn't stand the sight of her.
"What do you want to do now?" It took every inch of his self-control not to cry as he asked her this.
"I'm so sorry," she repeated, couldn't even look him in the eye. "I can't be without him, Draco – please, forgive me for this. I'm so sorry."
His chest constricted painfully. He couldn't do it anymore. He couldn't be in her presence and not cry anymore.
He left her in the kitchen and used his Floo to go to the Leaky Cauldron.
. . .
Draco took a whiff from his cigar.
It had been two weeks exactly since their breakup. It had been two weeks exactly since the last time he'd cried.
He was currently outside of the Leaky Cauldron. He'd been living there ever since their separation. He couldn't go back to his flat – not yet. He wasn't ready yet. He chose to forget about the pain and distracted himself by hanging out with Neville's daughter and his very own goddaughter, Alice.
The young girl was always happy. She wasn't suffering from heartbreak. She did not have any problems, except maybe when she was hungry or she needed her nappies changed.
Draco wished he was that girl. No problems. No hurt. No Hermione being happier with Weasley. Nothing but crying for attention and giggling when noticed.
He suddenly wondered if his parents were currently laughing at him from wherever they ended up. Gods, what would they think of him now? Leaning against the wall of some dainty place, looking as horrible as he'd felt. They would surely think of him as pathetic. 'Unfit to bear the Malfoy name,' Lucius would say. 'Sullying yourself with a mudblood is a waste of time, dear,' Narcissa would sneer.
Fuck. With all these thoughts about his parents, he found himself almost missing them.
He took another whiff from his little cancer stick.
When he had told Neville what had happened, he looked shocked. Even though he'd predicted it, he had looked shocked. He didn't know if his friend had just been pretending for his sake, but Draco appreciated all of his kind sentiments.
He thought about what Hermione was currently doing at this hour. Was she thinking of him? Was she even feeling guilty about what she'd done to him? Or was she shagging Weasley into the sheets just like she'd shagged him? Did she kiss him like she used to kiss Draco? Did she tell him how much she loved like all the times she'd lied to Draco?
He subconsciously dropped his cigar, clenching his fists in jealousy. He had no right to feel that – not anymore. He was nothing to her now. He was just somebody she had used and lied to. And now that he'd served his purpose, Hermione left him. He was just a passer-by in the great journey of her and Weasley's relationship.
Fuck him. Fuck her. Fuck both of them.
He hadn't felt such hatred and hurt like this before – not even for the Dark Lord.
Hermione had sent him a letter three days after their break up. She'd told him that she honestly missed him and that she would like to be friends with him – if he gave her the chance.
The problem was; Draco was ready to give her all of the chances. He'd been in the middle of writing his response to her when he realized what he was doing. He immediately stopped of course. Then, he'd thrown the parchment into the trash.
"Draco," he heard someone call out.
He looked up and saw his good friend, Neville Longbottom.
He inclined his head in acknowledgment.
His fingers were itching for another smoke, so he reached into his pocket and got another cigar. He swiftly lit the oh-so-sweet cancer stick with his wand.
"I thought you said you stopped," Neville said awkwardly.
He'd been like that ever since their break up – awkward and funny. Draco was reminded of the former Neville, the one he'd known in school.
Draco shrugged, acting nonchalant. "I lied."
Neville sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Look, Draco, I've talked to her and – "
"Don't," he said, accompanied by a short shake of his head. "It's alright. I'm alright. We weren't good for each other, anyway."
"Don't fucking lie to me!" Neville looked offended. "I know you better than anyone, Draco. You can't mask your emotions from me."
Draco, once again, gave a shrug. "I'm not lying to you."
"I know, okay?" Neville firmly said. "I know you're hurt. It's okay to admit that you've been hurt."
"I'm not hurt," Draco scoffed, inhaling his cigar.
Neville groaned, "Alright. Do your thing – just don't do anything crazy, please."
Draco's mind flashed with the memories of that night, and he instantly knew what Neville was talking about.
"Not again," he promised him what he'd promised years ago. "Not anymore. Never."
That was the most truthful thing he'd ever said tonight, but he was still not quite sure about it.
"I'm fucking here for you, man," Neville proclaimed, lighting a cigarette for himself.
Ever the Gryffindor he was.
"I haven't seen you like this," his Gryffindor savior continued, "not even for Astoria. I don't exactly know what you two had, but I know that you believed it was true."
Draco glanced at his feet, feeling the tears that were welling up in his eyes.
"I loved her," he finally admitted, "still do, and she told me that she loved me too."
"Bloody hell," Neville swore. "That's so fucked up."
Draco shut his eyes closed, letting only one tear fall before wiping it away with his wrist. He let his cigar drop again.
"Shit happens," he said as he shrugged it off again.
He didn't know what to do with his life now.
. . .
Draco missed her.
His head was befuddled with alcohol, his vision was making everything look multiple, his throat hurt from all the ramblings, his whole face was red, his lips were swollen from all the girls he'd gotten to make out with him earlier, and he missed her. Only one, only her. Only Hermione.
She was the greatest love of his life. She was the Persephone to his Hades. She was the Josephine to his Napoleon. She was the Cleopatra to his Caesar. But… Persephone had Adonis, Josephine and Napoleon divorced, and Cleopatra had moved on with Marc Antony. Nothing lasted forever!
Women were all bitches! He gave his heart to two of them, and they both smashed it broken. He hated all of them (except for and especially Hermione).
Why did she have to break his heart like that? Didn't she know that he was basically useless without her? Didn't she know that he loved her more than anything?
"Hermione left me," Draco slurred, feeling his knees giving up and ended up leaning more into Neville, who was currently holding him upright.
"She did," Neville nodded.
He was such a good friend, the best he'd ever had – the only he'd ever had. Gods, he owed so much to him. He'd saved him from killing himself. He talked to him during the time no one else would. He became his friend in his darkest time.
Draco felt something wet dripping down his face.
"I love you soooo much, Nevs," he'd told him after they got inside his flat and he was now lying on his couch without his shoes. Where had his shoes gone?
"I know," Neville responded.
He sniffed and felt more tears falling down his cheeks. Why the fuck was he crying?
"I don't know wha.. the fuck I'd without ya, man," Draco continued, his eyes half-closed.
"I looove you," he repeated.
His feet felt cold. Where the fuck were his shoes?
Draco hastily sat up, and he made a move to stand up.
Neville pushed him back down. "Nope. Stay there."
"I've got to find my shoes, mate!" Draco shook his head frantically. "And Hermione! I need to go to her!"
"No, you don't," Neville disagreed.
He glared at him. "Yes, I do. I miss her."
"Hermione doesn't miss you," Neville pointed out. "You two have broken up now."
Draco paused. He was right. They were over now. They were nothing now. He loved her, but she didn't love her anymore.
He gasped painfully, more tears streaming.
"I miss them," he told Neville, having little control over what he had said and having no idea what he was talking about.
"I know."
. . .
He pumped his cock furiously inside the woman who was also his ex-girlfriend.
He gave a shocked gasp when he'd felt her squeeze his buttocks.
"Fuck, Astoria," he moaned as he thrust even faster into her.
She hummed prettily when her walls tightened against his dick and finally reached her orgasm.
Hermione was the one in his head when he'd come inside her, and he felt no shame.
Astoria pulled away from him, reaching for the bottle of Firewhisky on his nightstand. He watched as she put the bottle against her lips and drank the half of it.
She licked the drops that had stained her lips afterward. Her eyes were blown out black, dilated. Her blonde hair was still straight as a rod even after their second round of sex. She was so pretty, probably even prettier than Hermione.
It didn't matter. Her gorgeousness did not faze him. He only got hard when he would think of Hermione. He only ejaculated when he would think of Hermione. Astoria would never be Hermione. She was not half as smart as her. She was not half as sexy as her. She was not half as nice as her. She wasn't even half of Hermione. It was a stupid comparison.
He had no idea how they'd end up here, to be honest. All he could remember was Astoria smiling prettily at him in a dainty club – and that was it.
Draco had always enjoyed Astoria's company when it came to sex, but that was not the case now. He'd thought sleeping with her would give him some sense of fulfillment, but he'd just felt even emptier after their encounter.
No one could compare to Hermione Granger. How could one feel satisfied again after they'd had perfection? How could one forget perfection? How could he forget her?
It had been exactly one year, three months, and a day since she broke his heart. Yes, he had been counting. How could he not when he repeated the words she'd last said to him every night?
He remembered every goddamned word. He remembered her pained face when she'd said it. He remembered hearing how sorry she was and that he couldn't for the life of him believe her.
He wanted her back.
Draco wanted her back in his bed, in his flat, and in his life. He'd never wanted something as much as he wanted her to come back.
If she wanted the Weasley, then Draco would gladly change himself to be like him. He would do everything if it meant that she would come back.
He only wanted her to come back. He wanted nothing else but her. Only her.
Why couldn't he convince her to come back? He just wanted her to come back. That was all.
Please.
"Draco," Astoria's sweet voice shook him out of his thoughts, "you're crying again."
Fuck. He hadn't even noticed that this time.
. . .
Draco stared at the wand sitting quite comfortably on top of his pillow. It was one of the ugliest pieces of wood he'd ever seen, honestly, but it was his. 10 inches of hawthorn with unicorn hair as its core, and it was all his. He would never wield magic without it. It was a part of him – it was him. Something ugly that no one would ever want. He'd never related so much to a bark of a tree before.
He had used the wand as an instrument for evil doings. He had Imperiused someone using that wand. He had cast Crucio with that wand. He had disarmed Albus Dumbledore with that ugly wand. The great Chosen One, Harry Potter, had gotten a chance to use this ugly wand. It had gone through so much shit that Draco almost admired it.
He wished Hermione was his wand, always by his side and never going to leave him.
Draco looked down at his lap, ashamed for thinking something as pathetic as that.
He wished he had someone to talk to right now. He needed human company. He wished Neville was here with his adorable daughter. He wished Hannah was here. He wished Hermione was here, laying on top of him and planting small kisses on his chest. He wished Crabbe and Goyle were here. He wished Pansy was here. He wished Astoria was here. He wished his parents were standing in front of him, fully alive and looking down, disappointed at him. He needed something or someone to make him feel human again. He wanted to feel some sort of comfort, some sort of love, and some sort of human emotion.
He'd felt everything but alive ever since Hermione left him. He just wanted someone to wrap their arms around him and make him feel loved again.
Draco hastily took hold of his wand. He hesitantly raised the ugly wood to point it at his head.
I'm so sorry, Neville.
He had promised him that he would never attempt this again, and he was so sorry that he failed him.
Two words were hanging by a thread on the tip of his tongue.
He opened his mouth to say it, but specific memories suddenly ran through his head.
With his eyes shut uncomfortably, Draco saw little Alice's smile whenever he took her into his arms. He saw Neville's cruel jests that made him laugh. He saw Hannah's kind words and welcoming grin. He saw Hermione's words – those three words that made him forget everything. And he knew that those things – those things that had suddenly flashed in his head – were worth living for.
He burst his eyes open and then threw his wand away.
"Fuck," he panted, burying his head in his knees.
What had he just tried to do?
Neville would be angry if he found out. Hannah would cry at his funeral if he had done it and little Alice would be the one who would miss him. Hermione… he didn't quite know what she would have done if he did kill himself tonight.
It was so bloody hard to move on, to forget everything they'd been through. He believed that moving on was something miraculous – something that people spent hours praying for. He just hoped that he was one of the lucky ones who'd get to experience that kind of miracle.
But until then, Draco would just spend his hours drinking all his problems away or having meaningless sex with anyone who was okay with it. Drinking and fucking would have to do for now.
And if Hermione needed someone to use again, he wanted her to know that he would be in his little flat, waiting for her. He wanted her to know that he belonged to her forever, even if she didn't want him anymore.
Draco slightly jumped from his position when he heard a knock on his bedroom door.
He sighed as he stood up to open it. It was probably just Neville checking on him for the sixth time today.
He slowly pulled the door wide open, and – oh fuck – Hermione Granger was standing right in front of him, with tousled hair and red-tinged eyes.
She wrapped her arms around him tightly, as if she didn't want to ever let go.
Draco returned the embrace while tears came crashing down his cheeks.