Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter series or any of the characters portrayed in this story.
A/N: Greetings, dear Reader! This is a short one-shot based on something I wrote a while back. I hope you enjoy it!
"I miss you."
Innocent words of longing spill from her mouth as she gazes into the fireplace, the room dimming rapidly from the darkening sky of a foreign city. Bright, luminous lights shine through the clear glass windows of neighboring buildings, casting long shadows on the floor as she gazes into the fireplace.
"I miss you, too."
Of course he does.
He always does.
There is a pause as the brown-haired woman ponders what to say next.
"Marvin's making me stay for at least another day," she finally says, biting her lower lip. She waits for his reply, anticipating at least one petulant remark.
Then –
"Ok."
She is surprised for a moment. Where is the whining, the cursing of the 'sodding Hufflepuff', the insulting of the intelligence and the size of certain anatomical parts of the other higher-ups?
"Ok?"
She sees him shrug his broad shoulders, a shock of blond hair falling across his forehead.
"Obviously, I'd rather you be back sooner, but if you have to stay, I suppose I'll survive another few days alone."
She smiles softly, then gets up to close the curtain and lights one of the candles by the nondescript hotel bed. After this, she returns to her spot in front of the fire.
"I do miss you, you know."
"I know." A few seconds later, he adds, "I miss you, too."
Of course he does.
He always does.
The next day, the brown-haired woman sits through meetings, taking copious notes, and makes numerous well-phrased, well-timed comments, earning her approving nods and increased respect.
She is a success, a beautiful, driven, wonderful success.
That night, she Floo calls him again, but she is forced to wait for him to "check on something".
Finally, after several excruciatingly long minutes, he returns.
"Hermione? Are you coming back?" He sounds out of breath, harried. Worried. She wonders what happened to him. What could he have had to rush to check on?
"I'll be home tomorrow evening," she says, her smile bright and genuine, giving no indication of her doubts and her fears.
"Oh, great, that's great," he exclaims, glancing quickly behind him. Then he says, "I have to go do some work now, but I'll see you tomorrow, all right?"
He leaves.
She stares perplexedly at the slowly diminishing fire. What was that all about? When did he become a workaholic?
Oh well, she decides. I'll ask him about it tomorrow.
That night, she goes to sleep with great expectations and great longing for her return.
"I have marvelous news for you, Miss Granger."
She smiles politely at the thin, middle-aged man wearing an ill-fitting suit under a gaudy purple cloak.
He puffs up his reedy chest, then proclaims, "Due to your stellar performance at the conference thus far, as well as your continued innovation and contribution to the work the department is doing, I have decided to give you a promotion."
She blinks. Well, this is rather unexpected. Good, she acknowledges to herself, but most definitely unexpected.
The stick-man beams, then adds, "You will also be staying here for the remainder of the week with the other senior Deputies."
"Excuse me?" She doesn't mean to say this, especially not in such a shocked tone, but the question slips out regardless.
He raises one frail eyebrow and coolly asks, "Or would you rather continue to work as a junior Deputy? Hmm, perhaps you are a bit young to be promoted..."
"Oh, no," she replies quickly. "I sincerely appreciate the offer. It's just that..." What should I say? she wonders, grasping for an appropriate explanation. I miss my fiancé? My hotel is lonely? My birthday's on Friday and I would rather spend the day at home than here, listening to insipid old men blather on about regulations?
"... I was surprised, that's all." She hopes he will accept this excuse. She was surprised, of course, but she was also upset about not being able to return home, not that he needs to know that.
He nods in a rather pompous manner. "Well, that's only to be expected. Now, we must hurry, or we'll be late for today's meeting."
Later that evening, she again Floo calls her fair-haired love.
"You're not coming home tonight?"
She shakes her head, chestnut curls cascading down her back. "Not until Friday evening." She sighs dejectedly. "I know you had some plans for my birthday, but you'll have to cancel them, since I won't be back until eight or so."
For a second, she thinks that he looks slightly panicked, but then he smiles, and she decides it was just a trick of the light.
"No worries, love. I'll buy cake and wine, and we'll just have a quiet night at home."
She returns his smile, grateful for his understanding. "That sounds nice," she murmurs, gazing at his flickering image.
"I miss you," she then whispers, longing for his warm embrace.
"I miss you, too."
Of course he does.
He always does.
Her car pulls into the driveway, and a wave of nostalgia washes over her. She smiles happily, humming a little tune as she gets her suitcases out of the trunk, her curly hair, unfettered by its usual clips and pins, ringing her head like a chaotic halo. She unlocks the house door and steps inside, noting the lack of lights on the entire lower level of the building.
"Hello? Draco, are you home?"
Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, she places her bags by the door, and cautiously ventures further into the house, glad that she always keeps her wand on her person. As she nears the living room, she hears a faint sound coming from behind the door, something like a... groan?
Fear flashes through her body, and errant thoughts begin to flood her mind, clamoring for attention.
Oh Merlin, she prays, fervently, desperately. Please, please don't let Draco be hurt.
She continues down the hallway slowly, her earlier good mood having vanished into wisps of smoke, remaining only as a distant, hazy memory. She finally reaches the door, and by now, she can hear some shuffling and muffled voices, and it's all she can do to not tear into the room, wand outstretched, the curses on her tongue aimed at the criminals inside who had possibly hurt her fiancé.
And then she places a shaking hand on the brass doorknob and twists it, but, to her annoyance, it's locked.
She glares at the offending obstruction, then mutters, "Alohamora." She tries the knob again, but it's still locked. Pursing her lips, she steps back, then casts a spell to detect what types of magic are present on the door. To her surprise, the locking spells have Draco's magical signature all over them.
But why would he lock the living room door? She assumes that he had left to buy the aforementioned cake and wine and didn't want anything to be stolen while he was away, but there's nothing valuable in there, other than a few paintings, and she doubts that thieves would be after some artwork when there are so many precious books and heirlooms in the library.
Well, there is the couch, she idly remembers, making short work of the magical barriers. But of course, he wouldn't be sleeping on it... or would he?
She stops in alarm at the thought of him with some... no, of course not, he would never do that.
Would he?
No.
She shakes her head firmly, resolutely banishing the terrible, terrible thought from her mind.
After a few more muttered phrases, the last of the locks are gone, and she once again twists the doorknob, pushes open the door, then cautiously peers into the room and sees –
Nothing?
She pulls out her faithful vine wood wand and carefully advances into the room, straining her eyes to see into the gloomy darkness.
What is going on? she wonders, rather peeved by this whole ordeal. Honestly, was a quiet evening with her fiancé on her birthday too much to ask for?
Then, when she is no more than two small steps into the room, she hears a click, and numerous bright lights flash on, and then –
"SURPRISE!" A cacophony of sound and laughter ensues and Hermione is staring at the crowd of people, absolutely, positively shocked. The living room, usually tastefully decorated in pale blue shades, is now covered in gaudy reds and golds with streamers, balloons, fairy lights, and a colossal banner proclaiming, "Happy Birthday Hermione!". And then she spots familiar silver eyes and she smiles a glorious, radiant smile.
"Happy birthday, love." His voice, smooth and deep and welcoming, makes her feel at home.
She giggles and wraps her arms around his shoulders.
"Hello, Draco."
He smiles as he holds her, and she smiles, too, relieved and excited and happy.
"Oi, you two, save that for the bedroom," a boisterous, freckled, red-haired wizard calls out, much to the amusement of the others. A green-eyed friend with messy hair elbows him in the ribs, chuckling.
Draco grins cheekily as Hermione snorts with laughter, and then they separate.
"Thank you, everyone, for the wonderful surprise," she says, beaming at her friends, and they all clamor for cake.
The party, too, is a success, and she is filled to the brim with joy, flitting around the room to accept gifts and well wishes.
Several hours later, after everyone has left, the bookish lion and the scheming snake make their way up the staircase, each reveling in the company of the other.
At the top of the stairs, they stop, briefly, when she kisses him and murmurs, "I missed you."
"I know." And then, "I missed you, too."
Of course he did.
He always does.
He always will.
A/N: In case anyone was wondering about Hermione's job, I read that Hermione became the Deputy Head of the Department for Magical Law Enforcement, so I just made up the junior/senior Deputy positions.
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this story! Feel free to let me know what you think :)