"Anything for you, sir?" asked the barmaid.
"Something strong. Firewhiskey, maybe. Make it double shot then," said the man, taking his seat in the empty chair next to Hermione. His voice sounds familiar. She looked up from the notebook on her lap, and looked to her left.
She wouldn't have recognised him if it weren't for the platinum blond hair that she knew so well. "Draco?"
His head swivelled around to face her. "Granger? Ahh, what brings you here?" his voice wasn't as cold as it used to be, back when they were students at Hogwarts, but it still drenched in sarcasm when heard by unfamiliar ears. Hermione took it that his voice was naturally sarcastic.
"Just needed a drink."
He peered over to look at her notebook. She covered the book with her arm, but he was too quick for her. "You have a diary, I see."
"No, Malfoy, it's not a diary." She said it matter-of-factly.
She took a sip from her mug; that's when Malfoy grabbed the book. "Ahh. Poetry. You've been busy since the war, haven't you?"
"Give it here, Malfoy," said Hermione sternly, as she tried to steal the book from him back in vain.
"Hang on, Granger. I want to read it." He passed it from hand to hand, then stood up as Hermione flailed around him. He had far longer arms than she did, so she eventually gave up and glared at him. "Hmm, look, this seems interesting.
"'Dreams; take me far away, will you? Far away, to the ends of the world.
Let me ride on your clouds, and parade with pride, maybe dignity.
Show me love, as you've never shown before,
Because it's the only thing that keeps me going, forever and infinity.'
"Wow, Granger. That's some pretty deep stuff." He dangled the book at the end of his fingertips in front of her face. She snatched it away in annoyance as he sat back down and gulped half his Firewhiskey down.
"You never really occurred to me as the type to write poetry, let alone something that, err, deep." The way he said it made it obvious that he didn't think it was anything deep at all.
"People change, Malfoy. And not everyone has to update you whenever they do."
She slammed her notebook shut and got up to leave, but he grabbed her wrist. "Okay, I'm sorry. Come on, sit. We haven't talked in ages. And you haven't even finished your beer yet." He nodded his head towards her mug.
The sarcasm in his voice had reduced to almost nothing – though there were still traces of it – so Hermione sat back down.
"So, tell me," said Malfoy, downing the rest of his Firewhiskey.
"Tell you what?"
He pointed to the notebook. "Why you wrote that."
"Because I wanted to?"
Malfoy laughed. "I meant, your inspiration. What made you write it."
"Oh." She thought for a while, sipping slowly from her own mug, until she finally said "You wouldn't understand. It's… personal stuff."
"Yeah? Try me."
When she didn't say anything, he beckoned for the barmaid. "A firewhiskey for this young lady and one for myself, please!" He almost yelled across the bar.
Hermione almost attacked the mug when the barmaid placed it in front of her. She downed half of it, making her head spin with drowsiness. But that's good. It couldn't make her think right, which was exactly what she wanted. Drunk. Huh. She'd never been this drunk before. Just a little woozy once in a while, at major celebrations, but never like this.
'But Hermione! What's Ron going to say when he sees you like this?' screamed a voice in her head, her inner self, but she brushed it away.
"So, are you gonna tell me?" asked Malfoy again.
"You know how Ron? Yeah, he left me." She said it simply, like it didn't hurt her at all, when in fact, she'd been in pieces when he walked out the door. Must be the whiskey. She's pretty sure Rosetta, the barmaid, had inserted an extra dose in her drink, because Malfoy doesn't seem as drunk as she is.
"That weasel-tail? Yeah, I heard you got married."
"Yeah. We have kids, twin girls, just barely months old then. But we got into a fight, I can't remember what it was, but we fought. And we've never fought like that. Eventually, I think he said something about being an annoying tosspot, and he didn't want to live with me anymore and that I should be out of his life, forever, and that I shouldn't have been in it in the first place. Then he left." She could feel tears forming in her eyes, but she blinked them back. She wasn't going to cry in front of Malfoy, and definitely not about her personal life. What was she thinking anyway? Telling him her troubles.
"And what did you do?"
"I cried. I sat on the door mat, leaned against the door and cried, trying my best not to wake the girls. I did go to sleep though, but late, almost as the sun rose. When I woke up, I found a stack of papers next to me. He filed for a divorce. We went for the trials, and court gave us a twin each. I'm staying at Harry's for the moment, he's been kind enough to offer me a place."
"Hmm."
"I've been a mess since, drinking lots, though not so much a time, like this. Ask Rosetta, I think I finished a barrel of Firewhiskey within the past month."
Malfoy snorted. He should know. He'd been responsible for maybe three in the same period of time. Everyone's a mess.
"Hey Malfoy, why aren't you as drunk as I am?"
He shrugged. "Used to it."
"Used to it? You mean, you've been drinking too?"
"I did lots of things, Granger. Best not to talk about it."
"Tell me, then. I told you."
"I'd hate to break up you two, but we're closing in five. You'd better get your drunken asses out or I'll lock you in," interrupted Rosetta, using an old rag to wipe the bar clean of spilled drinks.
Hermione and Malfoy finished their drinks in one gulp, and exited the pub. Hogsmeade was quiet. The late January breeze brushed through the empty pavements as they trumped through the virgin snow, leaving deep footprints.
"So?"
Malfoy looked at her, as if hoping he didn't have to tell her his story, but she nodded. He sighed before he began. "I'm sure you heard that I got married, right?"
"Astoria Greengrass."
"Yes. Well, we were rather happy for a couple of years. But then she started acting strange, and I acted suspicious. I noticed she'd been seeing a certain Doctor Wilson quite a lot, and I started getting worried. You see, I guess you can say we were in love." He said the last bit like it was the last thing he'd ever do, which Hermione couldn't even imagine him doing. "Whenever I asked her about it, she'll either avoid the question or answer the same stupid word, 'Nothing'. The only thing I could think of was that she was cheating on me. I was upset, I felt betrayed. So I did the only thing I could think of; revenge.
"I got close to Pansy. We were friends before, you know that, but I started getting close to her, like, really close. She knew I was married, but she didn't care. She confessed to me the night before my wedding. Do you think she cared? No, me neither. So I brought her out for lunch and dinner, spent time with her. I didn't think Astoria suspected anything, though. And one fine night, I slept with her. It was good, while it lasted. Who would've thought Pansy would be good in bed? I didn't sleep that night. I wondered how Astoria would react when she finds out, which was, of course, what she did.
"She found out a few months later. She went ballistic, calling me a man-whore. I threw it back at her, I accused her of cheating. It was her reaction when I said that, her expression, and I knew that what I thought was wrong.
"She explained everything, with angry tears. She'd been seeing the doctor because she'd been feeling sick, vomiting almost every morning, not getting through the night. I did notice this, but I thought it was just a normal stomach ache. I know I should've asked, I know I should've figure out what was wrong. But I didn't, because I'm such a dickhead. She left after that, just like Ron left you. I stormed out of our apartment and spent the night in a pub getting wasted."
He paused, and Hermione knew that that was her cue. "What was wrong with her, Draco?"
He looked down, obviously ashamed and full of regret. "She was pregnant." His voice dripped with regret, and for the first time ever, she knew that Draco Malfoy had feelings.
"And what happened to Pansy?"
"She was too. Pregnant, I mean. She told me that a few weeks after Astoria – I – left her."
"Did you meet them, your children?"
He cringed at the word. He'd never really see himself as the man he is now; wrecked, wasted, drunk. He'd intended to settle down in a nice, cozy, London home and raise his kids right, the way he would've wanted them to. Not like this, having half-siblings across the city.
"Yes. I was there when both Astoria and Pansy gave birth. I wasn't sure they liked it, but at least they didn't scream because of me. Well, not literally. I mean, the child did happen because of me, but they didn't scream at me because of something I'd done wrong. I mean – well, you get what I mean!"
Hermione actually giggled. "Yes, I do."
"Well, they both had sons. I insisted on naming my children after stars in the galaxy, like it's been in the Black family for eons, almost like a legacy really. That much was clear when we got married. I didn't expect it, but she kept to her word and she let me name him, though she wanted a normal name as well. A common name that you'd hear from day to day, so we agreed on Dene Megrez. Dene Malfoy, that isn't such a bad name is it?"
"No, it's not. And Pansy's son?"
"Pansy agreed on letting me name him too. So, he's Fornax Alioth. A pretty name, even if I do say so myself."
"Dene and Fornax Malfoy. They sound like your kids, Draco. They really do."
"Is that a compliment, or was that meant to be sarcastic?" Even his question was sarcastic.
Wanting to match his sarcasm, she looked at him sideways. "That's up to you."
He laughed, and Hermione wondered what exactly he had to go through that he didn' tell her. It was typical of Malfoy to exaggerate something, but she didn't think that the whole Pansy and Astoria story was a lie. He sounded pretty convincing to her, sober, even.
The breeze picked up, and Hermione tugged at her coat and scarf, wishing she'd worn another sweater inside. She dumped her fingers in her pockets and willed them to warm themselves. Draco seemed fine though, like he was walking on the beach.
"Cold, Granger?" He sounded sincere and sarcastic at the same time, and Hermione decided to ignore the sarcasm; he could make even the simplest of sentences sarcastic.
But she couldn't reply, her jaw was frozen closed. "I'll take that as a yes. Come on, you can stop by my place. You look like you'd freeze on the spot." Before she could reply, he grabbed her hand and apparated out of Hogsmeade.
They landed in a warm, carpeted living room and Hermione stumbled into a plush armchair. Already she felt dizzy by the alcohol she'd consumed, the gut-churning feeling of apparation and the sudden change in temperature made her feel sick. She wrenched her coat and scarf off and threw them on the floor as she ran for the nearest toilet. he had no idea where the toilet was, so she staggered through the first door she saw, and then the next one. She collapsed next to the toilet bowl and puked her guts out.
Draco had wanted to go to the kitchen to fix her some hot tea, knowing she'd probably feel sick. But before he could say anything, she'd bolted towards his room and heard the gagging sounds, and his questions were answered. After making two mugs of boiling tea, feeling rather woozy himself, he walked towards the toilet once he heard the flush.
"Hermione? You alright there?" He peeked in, and found her pale and almost lifeless, leaning against the cold tiles of the bathroom.
"Alright then, love. You'd better get up," he said as he lifted her up swiftly and laid her on his bed.
She mumbled something but he couldn't understand it, but it sounded something like "Mm show ay-co".
"You want some tea, then?" She nodded slightly, which Draco took as a yes. He walked back to the kitchen, retrieved the mugs and padded back to the bedroom. He was about to hand it to her, but she her breathing was already steady, obviously asleep. Instead, he set her mug on the bed side table and went into the living room.
He collected Hermione's coat and scarf and threw them onto the couch before sinking into the armchair. He drank the tea slowly, masochistically letting the drink scorch his throat. Weirdly enough, tea makes me sober, or at least, makes him feel that way. He shook the mug gently, letting the tea splash against the sides of the mug.
He couldn't believe he just told his life-wrecking problem to Hermione Granger, of all people. He hadn't even told the story to Blaise, who was his best friend. Their conversation made him think. He hadn't seen Dene since Astoria gave birth about 5 years ago, and now he longed to see him again. Did he look anything like him? What would he think of Draco once he's grown up? He'd hate him for sure. Draco couldn't even imagine him ever being forgiven by both Astoria and Dene. He'd screwed up his sons' lives, that's for sure. Maybe he could give Fornax a better one, since Draco'd have custody over him by the end of the next month as Pansy had requested; she'd been diagnosed with cancer and she didn't want to die knowing Fornax wouldn't be taken care of.
He didn't realise how long he'd stayed in the same position until Hermione padded into the living room, hair as messy as it had been when they first met. "How long was I out?" she yawned.
Draco looked at the drink in his mug and took a sip. It was stone cold. "Quite long, hun."
"I'm sorry, Draco. For puking all over your bathroom."
"It's okay. I understand."
There was silence. Hermione wrapped her arms around herself, fidgeting on the spot, not knowing what to do.
"You can go sleep, Mione." Hermione realised that's the first time he'd used her nickname.
"But I need to get home, and Dahlia, oh dear, who's going to –" Draco had gotten up and pressed his finger to her lips. "You're tired. You can go back in the morning. You said she's at Harry's house, I'm sure that Weasel girl can take care of her." His voice was firm, hard. And she looked into his pale, silver eyes. They were hard too, solid, like platinum.
Then all of a sudden, his lips came crashing on hers, and she was against the door. He pulled back as she gasped for air, not knowing what happened. His eyes had melted into pools of silver mercury, now full of something like sorrow, maybe regret. He wanted to back away, but her hand cupped his face to make him look at him.
This time, it was her who kissed Draco. She didn't know what overtook her, but it was there like some sort of longing. She kissed him passionately, her back against the wooden door. Her hands were running through his hair restlessly as she struggled for air in between kisses. His hand found the hem of her sweater and ran them up her back. She straightened at his touch, pleasantly warm against the cold air. Eventually, he pulled her sweater off and dumped in onto the ground. Her shoulders instantly felt cold, and she suddenly felt weak; from the chill and the atmosphere.
Her hands subconsciously unbuttoned his shirt, and he yanked them off, and threw it across the room before he made her undress her pants. Once left only in her underwear, he pressed her body to hers as she was sandwiched between him and the cold wall. She wrapped her legs around his waist.
He staggered to his bed, and as guilty as he felt for doing exactly what he told himself he wouldn't do, he couldn't help but make love to Hermione Granger.
She doesn't remember what happened last night; just a lot of fucking. This wasn't exactly the form of comfort she'd expected, and even now, she couldn't imagine herself having sex – and especially not with Draco Malfoy – instead of indulging in pints of ice-cream. But here she was, cuddled up to Draco himself, both stark naked, trying to keep each other warm.
The night was dark, it was most probably four or five in the morning, the usual time she'd get up anyway. In the silence, accompanied by Draco's steady breath, she wondered what Harry and Ginny would ask when she goes back home later. She'd told them that she might not come home that night, which was what she planned anyway, but she'd wanted to sleep in a boutique hotel somewhere up north. She couldn't tell them what she did. No. How would she say it anyway? Oh, I didn't come home, not because I spent the night in Newcastle-upon-Lyme like I wanted to, but I spent it in fucking Draco Malfoy.
What would they think?
No. She's Hermione Granger. What in the world was she thinking when she did it last night anyway?
"Mione?" he mumbled.
He sleepily looked at her. "Draco, what are we doing?"
"It's called comfort, love."
As she breathed in his scent and bathed in his body heat, she eventually fell asleep.
She stirred. The sunlight blinded her. It bounced off the pale cream wallpaper. She rolled onto her back. That's when she remembered.
She slowly sat up and dangled her legs off the edge of the bed. The air was chilled, but it wasn't like last night, she recalled. As she was about to get up, she realised she was wearing a loose shirt. She looked down. It was Malfoy's silk shirt. It certainly smelled like him; a mixture of his deodorant, with a trace of sweat.
She got up and scanned the room. Clothes were strewn all around, even on the curtain railing – she wouldn't want to know how that got there. Her black bra and panties were at opposite ends of the room. They must've been really passionate. She collected them, and put them on. She ran her fingers through her hair and entered the kitchen barefoot. Malfoy was busy fixing up some breakfast and turned at her presence. "Morning, Granger."
She slumped into a nearby chair, your typical cold, plastic, kitchen chair, but said nothing. She watched as he gracefully moved around the room, getting ingredients from various cabinets. He had a hot body, she'd never noticed that. And the way his jeans hung lazily on his hips, unbuttoned, surprisingly made him even sexier.
'Oh my god, what's wrong with you, Hermione? Draco Malfoy? Sex? What's next, cigarettes?' screamed the voice in her head. A wave of guilt filled her. She knew this was something she shouldn't be doing. But then again, everything's changed now. She wasn't the same girl she was five years ago.
"Toast?" asked Draco, placing a plate of buttered bread in front of her. She gobbled them up hungrily.
"My, my, Granger. Was sex really that tiring?" he laughed. Hermione pretended not to hear it.
"I'm guess you're going home after this?" asked Malfoy, munching on his toast. Hermione nodded. She didn't seem to be able to find her voice that morning.
He downed his tea and set his mug and plate in the sink with a loud clang. He walked over and whispered in her ear, "I won't tell anyone." He winked and walked out.
Hermione deposited her plate and mug into the sink too and decided to get dressed. She and Malfoy seeked out their clothes. She grabbed hers and went into the bathroom. Malfoy laughed at her. "Hey Granger, there's nothing to be shy about. I've seen you naked, remember?"
"Yeah, but I was drunk then. I'm sober now."
She stepped out and handed Malfoy his shirt. She retied her hair into a very messy braid and proceed to wear her socks.
Now for goodbye. This was the awkward part. What was she suppose to say? 'Goodbye, Malfoy, thanks for good sex last night'? Thankfully, Malfoy saved her from that.
"I guess you'll be going now, Granger. Are we gonna meet again?"
She shrugged, and he was suddenly so close to her, she could feel his breath on her face. "I hope so, though."
He kissed her, but surprisingly she didn't pull back. She let him, even kissed back. After a few seconds, she ended it and looked into his eyes. They were not the hard, cold ones she'd always known. Overnight, he seemed to turn into some sort of a sexy man, full of feeling and everything. Now she knew why Astoria had fallen so hard for him in the first place.
She took one last look at him and apparated, back to Grimmauld Place, and readied herself to pretend like nothing ever happened.
"Malfoy!" Hermione shouted across the pub as she saw his distinct platinum blond head enter the bar.
He moved through the crowd and reached her in minutes. "You wanted to see me?"
"Yeah."
"Well, spit it out." He raised his hand, ready to call the bartender, but Hermione hastily pulled his hand back. "Why? Don't you want a drink?"
"I can't, Draco."
"What? Why not? The addiction again? Come on, one mug won't hurt."
"It's not that."
She took his hand and towed him out the back way. It was spring; the trees were tall and green. They walked down the deserted gravel road; it was a way that not many people knew of.
"You wanted to see me?" he repeated his question.
Hermione bit her lip. How was she supposed to tell him? "Um, Draco?"
He looked expectantly at her, scanning her face.
"I'm pregnant."
The only expression on his face was ultimate shock. "Wh- How- What?" He was apparently lost for words. He looked down at her stomach, which wasn't really noticeable until you think about it, then back up. She nodded in confirmation.
"Congrats, Draco. You're officially a man-whore now."
"No, Granger, don't." He collapsed in a nearby bench and held his head in his hands. "How do you know it's mine?" He looked at her stomach.
"Because I didn't have sex with anyone after you, Draco."
There was a long pause. Neither of them said anything. "Well, then Hermione, what do you intend to do?"
"I don't know."
"Do you think we'll every work?" He said it softly, like it was more for him than it was for her.
"I don't know." She repeated.
"Knock, knock." His voice was familiar now, she could hear it across a crowded room and know it's his.
She opened her eyes and saw him walk towards her. "Hey, Mi. How're you?" he asked gently.
She felt weak. Like all life had been drained out of her. "Never better." She managed.
Draco snorted.
"Have you seen the twins yet?" she croaked.
"Yes, and they're beautiful."
"Are they?"
"Mhmm."
"Good." She closed her eyes, and felt Draco's lips against her forehead as he let her fall asleep again.
"Leo Vega Malfoy! What did you do to your sister?" asked Hermione, looking at the little five-year old, pretending to be angry. He shifted guiltily.
"Answer me, Leo!"
"Lena snatched my car from me the other day and had peanut butter all over it. So I put jam all over her dolls," his grey eyes were angry, yet guilty at the same time.
"Oh, really, now?"
"Yes! Ask Fornax if you don't believe me. He saw it happen!"
"Spoken like a true Malfoy. Nothing better than revenge, eh?" called out a voice from the front door.
"Daddy!" chorused the other children as well as they swarmed him.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa."
Hermione laughed as she neared her husband. "Hey, honey." She planted a kiss on his lips and hugged him.
"Daddy, is Dene coming to play?" asked Fornax, looking eagerly up at his father. He had inherited his father's eyes, like his half-brothers Dene and Leo, but he has straight black hair just like his mother, who passed away three years ago.
"No, Fornax. He's in school, remember? He'll come in the summer. He'll play with you then."
Fornax pouted. "That's not fair. Dahlia gets to spend time with him."
"I doubt that Dahlia actually likes his company, Forn," Hermione chuckled.
Draco laughed as he ruffled his son's hair. "You'll go to that school in September. Then you'll spend everyday with Dene, okay?" Fornax seemed to brighten at the though, and ran away to continue whatever he was doing before Draco's arrival.
"Now, I heard someone doing something for revenge as I was coming in. What happened?" He said as he set Leo down and bent down so he leveled with the twins' eyes. They were both identical, having Draco's long nose and face shape and Hermione's almond shaped eyes, though their eye and hair colour genes are the opposite. Leo has his father's grey eyes and straight, rusty brown hair, whereas Alhena inherited Hermione's chestnut coloured eyes and princess curls, though it's platinum blond like her father's. Alhena's eyes blazed with anger as she pointed at her brother.
"Leo?" Draco dragged his name out.
"She snatched my car the other day! She put peanut butter in the seats, and she didn't get scolded for it!" yelled Leo.
"Alhena Talitha!"
"It wasn't me, it was Leo! He smeared jam all over my dolls. Now they're all sticky and ants will come and eat them rotten!" cried Alhena, jabbing her brother.
"Fine. I'll have the car and the dolls cleaned. But I don't want to hear any more stories about jam and peanut butter, okay? I won't get you your new broomsticks if I hear any more trouble about you two from your mum."
The twins looked terrified at the thought. "We won't!" they chorused and followed Fornax into their bedroom.
Draco stood up and looked at Hermione, a twinkle in his eye. "So, the kids are in the back. They won't bother us for a while."
Hermione laughed, a pleasant ring to his ears. "Not now, Draco. I have tea to make," she whispered the last part seductively, kissed her husband quickly before he could figure out what was happening, and skipped to the kitchen, looking over her shoulder playfully. She winked at him as his eyes glistened mischievously and chased after her.