Draco and Hermione encounter each other at the bus stop, 3 years after they both left Hogwarts.
A Muggledom story, in which Hogwarts was a prestigious boarding school, and not so much a magical place.
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Music roars to life in my ears, spilling from the headphones. I find it difficult not to sing along to the new song by Lucy Spraggan - it's just so damn addictive - because that would be severely embarrassing in the middle of the street. Walking past WHSmith, and Boots, to get to my bus stop, after such a ridiculously tiring day. With the new dress I bought shoved into my backpack, along with the shirt bought so cheaply that I am dreadfully worried it will simply fall apart when I attempt to put it on. Which would be the icing on the goddamn cake.
My footsteps unconsciously sync to the pounding of the music blasting through my earphones. A vaguely delicious smell comes from Greggs. Then the distasteful scent of urine, as I pass the old industrial site of BHS. Being British, I don't say a damn word about it. Simply pass by, trying to give off a both gently harassed and sympathetic nature. Ridiculous, I know. Equally, something we all do.
Finally, I'm standing beneath the shelter of the bus stop, glancing every so often up at the time table. It's not late. Another ten minutes. Dammit, I could have gone to Sainsbury's. I wrap my coat tighter around me, almost unconsciously tapping out the beat of the song against my leg. Ten minutes to psyche myself up to not feeling sick on the bus, as I always do. Plus, I can make a list of what I need to get done tonight.
I sling my backpack onto the empty, grey seat, usually occupied by the cranky old woman who lives two streets over from me. There's always this weird tenseness when she gets on the bus; like someone just lit a cigarette. That level of awkwardness. But today the seat helps me to pull my diary out of the bag, and a pen which is buried underneath a empty crisp packet. In the back of it are several blank pages, which are already half-filled with action lists, and plans for weeks long-gone. Just enough space for the smallest of lists, which I date.
Call mum
Shopping - for Tues
Email Harry Peters
Theory: Distraction/Placebo effect?
I glance upwards, thinking for a moment.
Bloody hell.
Tall, white blonde hair, annoyingly gorgeous. God dammit Draco Malfoy. Looking so good in those jeans, with the dark jacket. How dare he. Damn. Okay, don't stare. Staring is bad. He's listening to his own music, bobbing his head along to something. Probably something cool. Fuck knows who is cool these days. And suddenly he looks at me. And grins.
Crap.
I'm forced to make the effort, as he moves towards me, like a chess piece across the board, on it's way to killing off a player. That's probably a bit dramatic. But I take out my earphones, pressing the stop on the music, and then pull them out of my iPod for good measure. Fucking great. Now I have to engage in some sort of predictably awkward conversation. I wonder if he's thinking the exact same thing.
"Hermione," he smiles. What the heck.
"Malfoy," I reply, trying not to smile. God, he is gorgeous. So unfortunate. He raises an eyebrow. "Draco."
"It's been a while," he says. This is so awkward. "How are you?"
"I'm good thanks, yeah. And yourself?" I try to look away from the penetrating stare. Where the hell am I supposed to look? Okay, try not to panic. This is good, civilised conversation. "How come you're in the city? And back here, anyway?"
"I met my mother for lunch."
That's normal. Suspicious?
"That's nice," I say, struggling with words at all. He's looking at me in this odd way, like I am some sort of puzzle he can't quite figure out. "Did you have a nice time?" I ask pleasantly, glancing past him, to try and see whether the bus is coming. Crap, no. Just the one to Attleborough. Urgh. Hurry up.
"I did thanks. Number 33. It's great there, do you know it?"
"Yeah, Ginny and I go there sometimes."
Number 33 is this amazing café where they do cake and coffee for under a fiver. The cake is usually rich and tasty, but however leaves us struggling to walk anywhere except to the next street along, where we can vegetate amongst the books until our stomachs aren't as heavy as a JCB. But the cake is good enough to let it happen, over and over again.
"Ah cool. So are you back from university for good then?" he asks me. I'm taken aback by his investigative skills. How did he know I went. "Don't worry, I don't Facebook stalk you; it's just that Blaise is back now too, and he's seen you about there a couple times."
"Oh. Cool." Blaise went to Oxford? Then I remember he asked me a question. "I'm just back for the summer. Going to do a Masters next year." I smile, thinking about it. I actually love my subject. I start speaking before, realising he was about to ask. "I've got a job over the summer, but it's back to Linguistics in September."
"You're studying Linguistics?" I nod, smiling at him this time. "Bloody hell," he laughs. "How bad is it?"
"It's wonderful thanks," I say reproachfully. "Really interesting."
"Hey, I'm not knocking it." Malfoy holds his hands up in surrender. "Tell me, Granger. What's it all about then?"
"Studying language from a scientific point of view. So, context, and how it all affects how language is spoken, read, and written." He nods in appreciation. "How about you, what have you been doing? While I've been slaving away at Oxford." He laughs, but not unkindly. And then I am not really sure what to make o this carefree version of Malfoy. Gorgeous as he is, he is usually an arsehole in this wonderfully cocky and... Beautiful way. Now he's just confident.
"MIT," he smirks. "Chemistry."
"Fuck," I laugh. "America?"
"Yeah, that one," he laughs too.
In the not-so-faraway distance, the bright green bus rounds a corner, the number 15 displayed in bright orange across the top. My stomach sinks a bit, in spite of myself. I glance sideways at Malfoy, who simply smiles back at me. Then I reach for my bus-pass, feeling reassured.
"Please, you have tell me about that," I grin. He nods, grinning back at me, and reaching into his own pocket for his very own bus pass. I open my mouth in mock surprise, to which he raises his eyebrows. There is an awkward shuffle towards the opening bus doors, as old people barge through like steamrollers, fighting a battle which really isn't necessary. Thankfully, we manage to find a pair of seats, three rows from the front of the bus. He steps in first, leaving me to sidle awkwardly with my rucksack.
Draco stares out of the window for a moment, as the bus begins to move off, before settling his grey eyes upon me. I swallow, suddenly feeling horribly uncertain about this. What am I supposed to say, again? To continue this conversation?
"So... MIT?" I ask. He laughs.
"It was amazing. Lots of engineers, though," he tells me, laughter still present in his eyes. As we break out of the city, golden light floods the bus, making his hair more yellow than white. And I begin to notice small things about his mannerisms. The looseness of it. Confidence without arrogance. Having lost the tense features of his closed childhood. And a nice tan across his features.
"You didn't want to go into engineering?" He shakes his head like 'I get this a lot', which makes sense, and makes me smile. "But you were at MIT? What do you want to do?"
"Forensics, I think." He scratches his head. Nervous? Anxious? "To be honest, I'm not sure. Which is kind of crazy, having gone to MIT, and been certain on chemistry for so long." He pauses. "I thought about going into biochemistry, and about going into pharmaceutical."
"It's okay," I break in. "I get it. I didn't know exactly what I wanted to do for quite a while." He nods slowly, as if deliberating over my words, and over his own options. "Start with the next step, is my advice. What is the next step?"
"Conversion course at Cambridge for molecular disease structure. So starting to go into biochemistry a bit," he says, nodding his head. "Maybe study the patterns disease has throughout the world, and commonality and such." Malfoy grins nervously. "I would like to go into forensics, though. And stick in England for a while." I smile right back at him. "How about you?"
"Masters, PhD, professorship," I list them off immediately. It's almost become a habit over the summer, having to answer to every family member that has stuck their head around the four walls of my house. But Malfoy doesn't roll his eyes. Which is some sort of encouragement. "I want to go into teaching, eventually. But I also want to get everything I can out of education before I do that."
"Makes sense," he says.
"How was the whole America experience for you?" I ask finally, curiosity taking over me.
"It was good, actually. Lots of girls all over my accent though," he laughs. I roll my eyes this time. "But I actually got into making friends. Which is new for me."
"Yeah, I got that." I check the front of the bus, seeing we are entering the countryside, about ten minutes from where I live. "I feel like I'm more confident now, and that I can just talk to people. And it's not awkward," I laugh. He grins at me, and rests his arm on the window-side of the bus.
"I'm really pleased for you," he says, genuinely smiling.
Through the next ten minutes, sitting in glorious sunshine, I laugh with Draco Malfoy. We talk about university, and we talk about new discoveries of living with other people, and how it's different from boarding school we attended together. We talk about our likes and dislikes, and share stories of random outgoings in our time away from home. How Draco ended up waking outside a Wendy's, wearing a party hat, covered in silly string. How I once cycled through the main halls. We talk about music, and about art, and about our subjects.
But finally it comes to point where I have to get off the bus. So, as I press the buzzer, Draco frowns very momentarily.
"I'll add you on Facebook. We should catch up again soon," he says.
"Okay." I smile at him, and standing up after the bus jolts.
When the bus leaves the stop, I raise my hand in farewell, before reaching into my bag to get my phone, and plug in music. Ready for the very short walk to my house, in the heat of the early afternoon. Malfoy nodded to me; his way of saying goodbye. Because I doubt I'll ever see him again. With him in Cambridge, and me reaching through every chasm of education, there's the slimmest of chances that our paths will ever cross again.
I unlock the front door to my house. Thankfully no one is home, so maybe I can vegetate in front of the TV for a while. Watch some American television, that which my parents hate watching, and maybe have an ice-cream.
My phone buzzes. A notification.
Draco Malfoy sent a friend request.
And I smile.
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Hello! Hopefully you enjoyed this oneshot!
Let me know what you thought! And for those waiting, I've finished the last chapter of PS, and it will be uploaded next week!