For the First Time, a harry potter fanfic

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¨°º¤ø„¸ For the First Time ¸„ø¤º°¨
¸„ø¤º°¨ ~~~~~~~~~~~°º¤ø„¸
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He sat with his hands around the glass. It was getting late, perhaps already past twelve o'clock, but time didn't seem to matter at the moment. He swirled the blood-red drink in his glass, watching the little puffs of smoke that emanated from the depths of the Firewhisky. He sighed, taking another sip of the burning liquid.

He had heard that she hadn't left her bed in days. Ginny had even been so bold as to beg him just to talk to her, but things weren't all that fantastic, and any contact might just break her more. It hadn't been intentional, to send her into a fit of despair. Hell, he hadn't wanted anything like this to ever happen; but he didn't have control over his life, not really, and he certainly had no control over hers.

He'd tried to make it work. She had done everything in her power, he knew, but my God was it hard. Not only did he seem to annoy her just by breathing, but she had taken to crying before he'd so much as said good morning. And he just hadn't the stomach for her nagging and insecurities.

Now he wished that he hadn't lost his temper. Oh, how he wished that she had not taken him seriously and had perhaps caught his sleeve as he stormed out the door. If she had, he would have kissed her until she couldn't breathe, like he used to. He would have smoothed back her hair and apologized for all his stupidity.

But she hadn't, and now here he was, alone.

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There was another letter on the counter when he came home, another failed interview on his mind. He eyed it sadly, gently tracing his fingers over the lilting letters that spelled out his name.

It was the eighth in as many days, each pleading that he just give her ten minutes, just ten, and then he could be done, if he chose.

How he wanted to reply to her! But every time he took out a quill, he couldn't make himself do it. He just couldn't tell her okay, because there was so much more that he needed to say, and he didn't think for a second that it would make anything better. She would understand. She had to. Besides, the cleanest breaks were the best, right?

He sighed heavily, hanging his head, his heart tightening in his chest as he made a pot of tea. While the water boiled, he stared heavily at the letter. It was on silver parchment outlined in green. She had picked it out to draft her yearly letter to him several months back. She had told him it reminded her of him, of everything he was, beautiful and manly. He had chosen not to tell her that he liked it simply because it was something she had picked it out for him. His chest constricted painfully and he turned away from it.

The whistle was going off when there was a knock at the door. He removed the pot from the burner and hurried to the front door, slowly pulling it back to reveal two men, one dark-haired and one with hair the color of sunset.

He felt himself pale at the sight of them but let them in, despite his better judgment. They took seats at the island in his kitchen and he poured them tea.

They sat in silence for awhile, and then they started in on him. But it wasn't what he expected. They were her friends; extremely loyal ones, at that. But here they were, asking if there was anything they could do…for him.

He shook his head.

"No. I'm doing my best…" but the rest was lost in quiet understanding.

After they left later, he sighed once more and picked up the letter. His hands were shaking so much that he could barely get the seal open, but he did it, finally, and he had to sit down as his entire resolve broke.

It was over. Really over. And he felt a piece of him break so violently that it was physically tangible.

Fired. He had been fired that morning, for some stupid mistake that could have happened to anyone. "Unfocused," they told him. He was unfocused and ill-tempered, and ill-suited to deal with people, and this one mistake was the last straw.

He sighed heavily as he sulked into the little shop off of Diagon Alley. It was a nice place to get a bite to eat and, thankfully, it was cheap.

It was the first time he had seen her since they'd broken up. He was surprised to see her; Harry had said she had been staying away from all places magical in the hopes to avoid him; yet here she was, out with Ginny and Luna as if she did it every day.

He froze in the doorway when he saw her, and then forced himself to relax. There wasn't anything remotely problematic; she was who she was, and he was who he was, and they were not connected in any way. She did not affect him. He wouldn't allow her to.

So he studied her from the back of the line. Her hair was shorter; a lot shorter, really. It looked good on her, a sexy sass to go with her attitude. She looked thinner, too, and her smile was positively radiant. His chest constricted tightly for several long moments and he had to swallow hard to force the emotion back.

When he looked back up, he was met with her frightfully perceptive eyes. Her expression was unreadable, but she had seen him. At least the ball was in her court now.

But who was he to think that anything would change? He watched her as they passed through the line, and she seemed determined to be having a good time. The smile never left her face and she was constantly giggling and laughing, refusing to allow him to even think that she wasn't doing positively fabulous without him.

Of course, he never expected anything less of her.

And he wasn't ashamed of staring, even as she marched out the door, her head held high, without a second glance.

He sighed. Just goes to show you, no matter what the pain, you always grin and bear it.

It had been several years. Several long and arduous years, full of heartbreak and new jobs, training, broken trusts, and healed wounds. He was married, his first child just born, and he was happy; much happier than he had been since her. And he was finally learning to live without her.

He had kept tabs on her, always knowing when she had another book to publish and when he needed to use his influence—in any way—to help her. She was married, too; to Ron Weasley. He had hoped she would find better, but he saw the way he made her smile, the way her eyes lit up when he spoke to her. She had just had a baby, too. Rose, if he wasn't mistaken.

He smiled tentatively at her from across the room. The Potters' annual New Years party was dwindling to a close; there were only six of them, now, picking up the remains of the celebration.

He turned at the sound of his name. His wife stumbled to his side, exhaustion in her face. He smiled softly. She was beautiful; ashen hair and sharp, aristocratic features that had been a perfect asset to his family. She took good care of him. And he suspected that she understood.

"I'm going to head home. Daphne is ready to be relived, I'm sure." Her lips twitched slightly and she rose up on her tip toes to kiss his cheek. "I love you, remember that." He nodded slowly and she flitted around the room giving her goodbyes before she took her leave.

He took a deep breath before gathering the glass trays that had held tarts and crackers and carrying them to the kitchen.

"…just go to bed! It's fine, I'll get it. Please!"

"It's not even your house!" She was shaking her head, her wild curls flying about as she let out a throaty laugh.

"Please! Gin, go to bed! I'll never be able to sleep tonight anyway."

"You're sure?"

"Absolutely." Ginny gave her friend an exasperated look before striding from the room, offering him a friendly smile and a soft touch to the arm as she passed.

He gently set the trays in the sink, turning on the faucet to rinse them off. She was running a washcloth over the countertops. After he finished he turned to face the kitchen.

She was already staring at him, her arms crossed lightly over her chest.

"Hi," he offered quietly. She studied him for awhile longer before flashing a bit of her white teeth.

"Hey." It was the most they'd said to each other in years and he was surprised to find all of those feelings he thought he'd finally left behind sprouting in his chest. Her cheeks burned pink and she was the first to look away.

"Congratulations," he finally managed. She glanced up at him. "For Rose. It is her name, right?" She nodded, smiling fondly.

"It is. Congratulations to you too. His name is Scorpius, isn't it?" He nodded in similar fashion and was surprised when she continued. "Congratulations for Astoria, too. She's perfect for you. I'm sorry that I couldn't make it to your wedding. I was out of the country at the time." He didn't quite know how to respond, and emotion was building in his throat. But he swallowed and smiled convincingly.

"Thank you. It means a lot, coming from you." The blush on her cheeks darkened and she looked away again. Her hair had lightened and it wasn't nearly as thick as it used to be. The planes of her face here smoother and she was much more confident than anytime he'd ever seen her.

"Would you like some wine?" He was startled by her question. "I brought it for tonight, but Neville brought a nicer bottle." She was cradling the bottle—wrapped garishly in red, green, and gold ribbon—and looking uncertain.

"I'd love a glass." She managed a gentle smile and uncorked the drink. He could smell it from where he was standing: sweet, flowery, and a touch of fruit.

"Strawberry Nectar," she said, handing him a glass of the amaranth liquid. "It's sweet, but I don't like the harsh stuff." He took a sip and had to stifle a sigh. It tasted like summer…like life…like her.

"I rather like it." He gestured towards the living room, swiping the bottle off the counter as he followed her. She settled into the corner of the couch, the firelight dancing on her face.

"How have you been?" He couldn't help the question. It was something he needed to know. Even if she lied to him, he had to know.

She took her time answering, staring pensively at the fire as she sipped her wine.

"I wasn't well for a long time. Not for years. I got a job in the Auror department and I got put on a special team that went out on covert ops. I was on a mission during your wedding. And Ron and I married back in June. I've gotten another book published recently, and I've been promoted at work. I'm doing better now." She turned to look at me, a soft smile on her lips. "And you? How have you been?"

"I've been better, let me tell you. Work has been ridiculous and I'm tired of it already. Everything seems to be hanging on by threads. Astoria's great, though. She's been good to me; and Scorpius is the perfect son already."

"I'm sorry to hear that things are not working out the way they should," she answered quietly.

"It certainly isn't your fault. Things just don't happen in my favor on most occasions. Not since—erm, not for a long time." But she caught it; he could tell. An awkward silence fell between them, but she cleared her throat and went on as if he hadn't slipped up.

"You know, I was thinking about you the other day. I was going through some old Hogwarts stuff and found a box of memorabilia from that trip to Egypt, do you remember?"

Bloody hell, did he remember! He had to loosen his collar at the heat that crept up his neck. Not trusting his voice he just nodded once.

"That eucalyptus scroll is still good as new. And that picture in the frame we decorated…"she laughed softly to herself, though he could see that it had gotten to her.

"I miss you." The words escaped his mouth before he had even a chance to stop them and the only acknowledgment that she made was the stiffening of her body. The silence was so loud that he was acutely uncomfortable. "I'm sorry."

"No, no," she said quickly, smiling awkwardly. "Don't be sorry." She looked away and took another sip of wine. He followed suit and was convinced their conversation was over when she said it, almost inaudible, but he heard her: "I miss you, too."

He stared at her. It was more than he could ever have hoped for. Her eyes eventually met his and his heart clenched to see the depths of honey-brown glazed in tears.

"Don't cry," he whispered softly, gently reaching out a hand to rest on her knee. She chuckled quietly, a smile lighting up her face, before wiping at her eyes.

"Sorry, it's just…it's been so long! I haven't seen you in years, and that picture of us kissing dredged up so many memories! I had to lock the door to keep Ron out." She sniffled and wiped at her wet face. Then she turned to face him, to really look at him. "You've no idea how much I've missed you, Draco." Her voice was like a caress around his name. "And looking at all that stuff made me remember. And then, coming here tonight…it's been hard.

"But I want you to understand that I'm happy. I really am. Ron is so good to me, and Rose is so beautiful. I'm successful and I'm happy." She moved closer to him, gently taking his hands in her own. He had to force himself to not draw away. Her proximity was not doing good things to his heart.

"I don't regret anything there was with us. Not a second of any of it. I still love you, Draco. I always will, but this is my life now."

He nodded slowly, choking back tears of his own. He knew how it was; he wouldn't have changed anything, but it still broke him, to know she was happy without him.

"I know. I am happy, too." It was hard for him to say that, but he got it out and managed a gentle smile. They sat quietly for several moments and then he cleared his throat to carry on a different tangent.

"Speaking of Egypt, I might have the opportunity to travel around Europe. Where would you recommend I go?"

And they fell back into an easy pattern, tossing various topics back and forth, bickering over the best books and who's kid would be the smartest.

Before he knew it, the sun was beginning to rise over the hills surrounding Ottery-Catchpole, and he groaned, putting his face in his hands. He sighed heavily before scratching the back of his neck and smiling sheepishly at her.

"I really have to go. I haven't stayed up all night in a long time." She laughed her sexy, throaty laugh and rose, collecting their glasses and the empty wine bottle from the table.

"Me either." He followed her into the kitchen and gathered up his coat, watching her out of the corner of his eye.

"I've had a really good time," he finally said. She stood up straight and smiled the 1000 watt smile that he was used to.

"I have to0." She crossed the kitchen on her stocking-ed feet and leaned against the side of the refrigerator. "I'm sorry that it's been so long since we've talked. Let's not let it happen again, okay?" He nodded slowly and smiled back at her.

"Thanks for tonight. You know, I feel as if, for the first time, I really know, now. I mean, everything before has been in hyper drive, first the war and then our relationship. Finally I can just get to know you. Besides, I haven't had that much fun in an extremely long time. I miss having you to talk to."

"Me too." Her grin widened slightly as she pushed him towards the door. "Now go, before Astoria thinks I've killed you off."

"Yeah, yeah. I know." He hesitated for a second before gently taking her in his arms. She melded to him, her head rested on his shoulder. He squeezed her slightly and then stepped away.

"Keep in touch," she said softly, almost sadly. He nodded assent and bent forward, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

"I love you, Hermione."

He walked away before she could say anything back, pausing only once by the gate. She was standing in the doorway, watching him, and she smiled while waving. He winked at her before twisting on the spot and apparating away.

Yes. For the first time, Draco Malfoy felt as if everything might just be okay, and, perhaps, he might just have Hermione Granger anyway.

So, I was listening to For the First Time by The Script, and I had this vision of Draco and Hermione. It isn't like the video, but I like my interpretation. Anway, tell me what you think, yeah? Pretty Please?