Under The Influence

by guitarcrash

Set after HBP. Oneshot. DMHG. “He is. But he’s gone now, and I can’t help but feel a bit for him. I guess I was one of the deluded few that believed that there was something redeemable—something inherently good in him. I was too optimistic…”

Title: Under the Influence

Rating: PG 13

Author:Guitarcrash

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Sigh.

Draco Malfoy was feeling rather giddy that morning.

The sky was the brightest shade of blue he had ever seen or cared to remember.

The air was crisp and smelled of freshly baked bread. Birds were chirping their cheerful songs, (which had made Draco want to whistle, but of course couldn't since he didn't know how). He had passed by a petite flower shop and couldn't help but stop, and literally smell the roses.

"Lovely," Draco said with a wink, after sniffing the rose being held by the florist. The shop owner, flushing, had given him a free bouquet.

There was a distinct bounce to his step as he strolled in muggle London, of course hidden under what seemed to be a million transfiguration spells and charms, but in that moment, Draco felt as if the world was at his feet. He was not the slightest bit worried.

It was a lovely day! A terrific day! And yes, even the muggles were bearable, and that's saying a lot.

It was not always like this, however.

He had been on the run with Snape—running from aurors, from Death Eaters, from former teachers, from shop owners, and even from angry muggles coming back from vacation in Bora-Bora only to find bizarrely dressed people living in their home. He was tired of all the running, that he was sure of.

And so, to put it simply, Draco had quit.

He decided that night, as he lied awake on the bed of some muggle out on a vacation, that he could no longer take the life he was living—if you can even still call it living. (Draco was sure that it was more like a slow death.) He had left a letter for his mother, hastily written, told her not to worry about him and that she had better stay with Snape, for her own protection. The Dark Lord was not pleased with Narcissa's meeting with the potions master earlier in that year, and Draco was sure that sooner or later, He would order for her, as well as his death.

Draco had also left his former Head of House a note, concise with four words.

Take care of her.

He was sure that he was doing the right thing. Perhaps, with him gone, his mother would have an easier time, not having to worry about her coward for a son all the time. If only he didn't falter, then maybe—maybe, the Dark Lord would not have been so angry, calling him a failure. Draco was so stupid! He had Dumbledore unarmed! Why had he not seized the chance? Because of his lack of courage, or was it malevolence... –he and his mother were now outcasts.

Draco had never felt so low, dirtier than the mudbloods. Looked down upon with disdain, and most of the time fear by the rest of the wizarding community. Neither Dark, nor Light-- stuck in Twilight, endlessly running, looking for a way out. Apart from the small group of three they had made, they were without a doubt, alone.

Yes, his mother was better off without him.

Draco had packed his things quickly, not as if there was much to pack. A cloak, some muggle clothing from the dresser he had found in his room, some muggle change and his wand. Draco had worn the two sizes too big muggle clothing and studied himself in the mirror. The person in front of him was foreign. No longer had he had that unmistakable white blond hair, and grey eyes. Before him was a dark haired lad with piercing blue eyes. His chin was also no longer as pointed and he now brandished a square jaw. He still looked gaunt as ever though. In the midst of all the running, he had lost his identity. And he hated it.

He had tiptoed his way to the room where Snape was sleeping and hadborrowed a few bottles of this and that for the journey. Draco had even kept his breath for fear that he might wake up the occlumens; they had all been sleeping very lightly lately. He had levitated the small piece of parchment to the bedside table, with every intention of it being as conspicuous possible, and had already slipped in his letter beneath his mother's pillow. There was no turning back.

That night, Draco had fled. He walked aimlessly in the muggle village, lighted by street lamps, haphazardly downing firewhisky, steadily raising his state of intoxication. The firewhisky was sparkling gold in the dark, proving to be more enjoyable than what the seventh years back in Hogwarts had so ostentatiously talked about. This was outright bliss. He felt so fulfilled and sure, that he even threw rocks at the muggle houses and successfully shattered a few windows.

"And curse you all muggles to hell!" Draco had yelled after hearing the spectacular, and raucous impact of stone on glass.

After a few hours he had started humming. Yes, he, Draco Malfoy, was humming. The firewhisky was surely something. The humming had then at one point turned to all out singing.

"My soul is yours to keep spellbound

I love it when we mess around

We'll ride a broomstick and get lost

My heart is yours, babe, free of cost,"

He had another swig of the firewhisky and instantly felt even more elated. He had never felt so free! It was as though he could do anything! And so, Draco Malfoy, former Slytherin Prince and bane of the Golden Trio, had strutted his way to who-knows-where. (The strut was a cross between a skip and a jig.) He was aware that he was getting more and more wasted by the minute, but if that were being drunk, then he'd want to be drinking his whole life.

The night had passed, and now here he was, as free as a bird! Muggle London, look out, Draco Malfoy is in town. He did not care at all that the good for nothing muggles were staring at him, he with the bouquet of roses in hand. He did not care that a couple of them had shouted, "Stop singing you asshole!" He just no longer cared at all. And for the first time in an eternity, Draco felt happy.

He had walked for a while longer, window shopping nonchalantly and stopped when he saw a quaint coffee shop with those particularly large umbrellas muggles used for shade. Draco had bursted out laughing at the look of the muggles eating below the umbrellas, preposterous, really. But even as ridiculous as the little coffee shop looked, Draco felt as if he just had to enter and take a look. Blimey, he was going mad.

The inside of the shop was cozy to say the least. Unlike more modern shops, the walls were lined with red bricks and the windows were large and paned with dark wood. Light shone in freely from the windows so that the yellow fluorescent lighting was not really needed. It was acceptable, Draco thought, for something muggle-owned that is.

"Good morning, sir," the barista greeted a tad too cheerfully for Draco's taste. "What would you like to order?" she had asked with a plastered smile. Yes, undeniably too much caffeine intake.

"Er," Draco started, put off by the barista's perkiness, "coffee." Where all muggles, thathappy?

"Excellent," she had pressed some sort of box and it in turn started making these irritating sounds. "Would you like anything else? A crumpet, maybe—a bagel? We have the best crump—"

"No," Draco had cut her off, then remembering his manners, "thank you."

"Oh, well, okay then," he could have sworn her smile twitched. "That'll be 10 pounds."

Draco had given all the muggle money in his pocket since he had no idea how much was what, and the barista had give back a good deal of it back. Ms Vivacious (he had dubbed her) handed him a large yellow cup of steaming coffee, with a black saucer beneath. Seeing this, Draco had cringed. The colors were too reminiscent of the Hufflepuffs he had once so dearly loved to bully. Seeing that there was no point in standing there any longer, and that the barista appeared to think of him as queer, Draco sought out a comfy armchair as far away from the perky muggle as possible.

He was able to find an alcove, not as far from the muggle as he'd have liked, but nevertheless more secluded. He sat down on a crimson armchair and placed the coffee, the bouquet of roses, and his dragon hide rucksack on the table. Not knowing what next to do, he absent-mindedly stirred his Hufflepuff coffee and took a sip, immediately finding it too bitter for his liking. He had forgotten to ask for some sugar. Not wanting to go back and bother the creepy barista, Draco had resorted to ask for some sugar from another customer.

Whom to bother, whom to bother, Draco thought as he eyed the few customers the coffee shop had. The old man in another alcove had what looked like a dozen extra packs of sugar, but Draco could have sworn he saw the gaffer scratch his rear, so that crosses him out. There was a couple in the middle of the room that hadn't even touched their packs of sugar, the only reason being they were too busy molesting each other—he would be a nutter to try and disturb them. Finally, he was able to spot a decent looking girl sitting beside the window—alone, thank Merlin, whose coffee and seedcake looked forgotten.

The girl, Draco noticed, had long, brown locks of curls cascading down her back, accentuating the white sundress she wore. She had been facing the window and so he couldn't really see her face. She had rested her cheek on her palm, and by the looks of it, she was waiting for someone.

Draco stood up from his seat and made his way to the brunette. The reason was lost to him, but it felt right. It was as though he had been meant to approach her. There was also something vaguely familiar about the girl; however, Draco was convinced that he would have remembered those brown locks had he actually seen it before.

"Excuse me, but I just can't go bac—" Draco had not been able to finish his sentence as the girl had finally noticed his presence. He was caught dumbstruck. "I—uh, I," regardless of his natural Malfoy charm, he had not been prepared for this. He had not expected this, of all things.

She had knitted her brows. "Yes? May I help you?" she had said with the tone one would use on a 5 year old.

This wasn't just any girl. And to think he had almost thought her—no, Draco had pushed back the thought. Bugger.

Draco forced his mouth shut, he was sure he had been gaping. Then he started again with the weak attempt, "I—uhh, was wondering…" He was just so surprised! Normally he would have been suave, but it was just impossible for the current situation.

"Oh, sorry, but I'm seeing someone," she replied almost apologetically, "but I do think that girl there," she pointed at the barista, "has a crush on you." Nobody else could have been blunter, he thought. "I actually thought she was eyeing me at first, but when I got to take a good look at her, I told myself: she doesn't look like a lesbian, Hermione," she had stopped, though looked as if she wanted to go on with her story. "I'm sorry, I've said too much, again," she said mostly to herself.

"Uh, no!" Draco blurted out. What the hell is Granger doing here?! –wait, if she's here, then Potty and Weasel might be here, too! Bloody hell… I'll be damned if they find me out. Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap. –and did the mudblood just say she was seeing someone?!

"I'm sorry—no?" Granger asked perplexed, tilting her head as she did so. Draco had only then noticed that she was wearing makeup. Who knew the mudblood would actually care about her appearance, not that the makeup helped, at all. He thought the last bit sounded more of a reassurance.

OK, OK. You've got to keep your cool, Draco. Damage control. "No, meaning, I was wondering if I could possibly ask you for your sugar packets," he said simply, gesturing to the white square packets on her table, then he added, "not that I wouldn't oblige to a date with you, of course." Where did that come from?!

"OH! Oh. Oh my," Granger blushed a deep scarlet. "Well then," she had laughed a weak 'he-he', "sure. Yes, of course. Here, you can have them all," she handed him the white packets, appearing to have reached a shade of red that would have made a Weasley proud.

Now, what? "I—uh, I'll be going now," I'll be going now? Who in the world declarestheir leaving a total stranger? No one, Draco—well, no one but you.

Draco turned back to leave, shaking his head, reliving the scene all over again in his head. Can this day get any weirder? Nothing could have been more stranger, he thought.

"Um, wait!" Nobody else in the world was more surprised than Draco that day. Hermione had actually stood up from her seat just to grab the end of his sleeve. She was surprisingly strong, and Draco was forced to turn back and face her.

"Yes?" he asked in a forced calm, still being held by the sleeve. She couldn't have recognized me, could she? He inwardly panicked.

"I'm sorry, but that was really messed up," she grinned sheepishly, "fault on my part, of course." She sat back down, expecting Draco to do so as well. Was this some sort of universal connivance? "I shouldn't have been so assuming. I really can get ahead of myself sometimes, my friend says so himself!" she laughed, and then appeared to be thinking deeply. "Well, look, would you like to sit with me?" Is she really asking me this? Draco stared. "As some sort of token of apology. I was never the one for embarrassing situations," Hermione smiled.

No. NO. NO! "Uh, sure," Draco answered, his inward thoughts thick with disbelief at his own words. What was he doing? "Thanks, er, I'll just get my stuff," Draco could not believe what he had just done. He actually accepted Granger's invitation.

The walk to and from the alcove felt like an eternity. His head was swimming. What was happening to him? He was certain that some other force had been controlling him. Bloody, he hadn't been acting like himself the entire day! Malfoys did not skip. They didn't sing. And they sure did not, no way in hell, fraternize with mudbloods!

"Hey, you," she said grinning. Is Granger flirting?

"Ditto." Draco took the seat opposite Hermione.

"I'm sorry again for the whole situation just now. I really thought…"

"Well, I can clearly see why." Oh. My. Lord.

Hermione's cheeks had reddened again. "Anyway, consider this a do-over. I'm He—" she hesitated, "Jane." Middle name?

"I'm sorry, but did you just say your name is Hejane? That, by far, is the most unique name I've ever heard—only, I suppose, after Horry Hootersville,"

Hermione gave a hearty laugh. "No, no. Just Jane. And you must be… "

"Me? I'm Dr… ek. – I'm Derek. Yeah, that's me, Derek." Derek?! "But enough about me," he added, "so, tell me more about Jane. And, do you always dress like this when you go out to get a cup of coffee? Makes me want to know what you'd wear to a party." He inwardly screamed, NOOO.

"That's nice of you to notice. But no, I'm just stopping by. I'm actually attending a wedding later today. Well, more like, in a few minutes or so," she looked anxious. Explains the dress, and the makeup. "If only somebodywasn't late. But who cares, right? We're in muggle London, it's safe, and nobody could possibly attack here." Hermione's voice had become a key higher, and what Draco assumed to be a horrid imitation of Potter, or maybe the Weasel.

Keep sharp, Draco. You are now a muggle, an unknowing dim-witted mu – what am I thinking?! "I'm sorry, did I hear you say mogle?"Nicely done. "What dare I say is mogle?"

Now that sure shook Hermione. "What? You must have misheard me. I didn't say anything like that. No way. But let's not stay on that topic, shall we?" she resorted to taking large gulps of her coffee. Draco added sugar to his cup as she did so. "So, um, Derek," Hermione glanced at the bouquet of roses at his feet, "what are the flowers for? A girlfriend?" There was a hint of disappointment in her tone.

"The flowers?" Draco coughed up his coffee. It just so happened that I just had to smell them and I got them for free. Yeah right I'm telling herthat."They're for my grandmum." Well yeah, if I wanted to visit her grave. "She's sick, and I'm going to visit her later. But I don't think she'd object to give half of the flowers to a beautiful woman such as yourself." I won't even go through this again.

"For my lady," Draco charmingly handed Hermione the roses. Somebody Avada me.

"Awww, thank you. And I think it's really sweet that you're visiting your grandma. I've always said that chivalry's lost with men these days; it's good to see that at least someone's got some gallantry. You should see my friends Fred and George! They're the absolute worst."

"Yeah, I'd bet."

"Sorry?" Hermione said perplexed.

"Oh—nothing. But do tell me more," Draco took a sip, "Gred and Feorge was it?"

"Ah, Fred and George, actually," she smiled kindly, "They've always been pranksters, even before back in… boarding school. They're my boyfriend's brothers. So, I suppose I love them all the same," she stopped, looking at his face, for Draco had been dumbstruck, after the words boyfriend's brothers. "Um, Derek? Earth to Derek?" So it really IS the weasel!

"Uh huh," he replied, still a bit shocked. Weasley actually snagged her. Must've spent the family fortune to buy Granger flowers. Draco laughed at his own wit, causing Hermione to raise an eyebrow. "Sorry, just remembered something funny," he said sheepishly. Right. "I hope I'm not intruding, but wouldn't it be more interesting for you to tell me more about this boyfriend of yours?" Oh I can hear it now. 'Oh, he's just sooo dreamy. I have this thing for freckles, you see.' Draco dared to smile, which seemed to encourage Hermione.

"It's not going too well with us." Oh.

"What do you mean?" Draco asked sincerely, surprising even him. You're going soft, Draco.

"Well," she started unsure, "it's like, I can never be sure of anything." Her eyes had a glazed look to them, and her tone, if possible, became even softer. "I tell myself that everything will work out. There's—let's just say that our situation isn't conventional. We have to work so hard, and I just feel so afraid all the time. I'm afraid that I'll lose him, and there are just some things even worse than death. And I'm not prepared to lose him, now that I just got him for myself. I love him with all my heart, but sometimes I feel like he's taking me for granted."

Draco listened, not taking his eyes off Hermione's face. And for once, he pitied her. He didn't butt in, not knowing even what to say.

Hermione continued, filling in the silence, "And then, though I'm sure I love him. But I just can't shrug it off—" She stopped mid-sentence, and looked at him in the eye. Draco wondered if she saw through his disguise. "Have you ever had a crush, Derek?" Wha—?

That caught him off guard. "To be honest, I don't know. Um, then I guess, no."

"Oh," she said surprised. "Then just try to understand. I have this unwarranted- unwanted, crush. It's irrational, really. And it's not on my boyfriend—and I'd bet he'd flip if knew…" I always knew Herm—Granger had a thing for Longbottom. "And because of some recent events, I've been thinking more and more about this particular person more than I ought to." Draco thought that she had said that last bit more to her self than to him.

Why is she telling me all this? "So you're worried if Mr. Perfect Boyfriend isn't Mr. Right."

Hermione mistook it for a question and answered, "No. Not really. That's why I'm telling you it's an irrationalcrush. The guy that I like hates me, and likewise of course." Draco's jaw tensed at her last comment. "He's a git. How would you say, a mix of sardonicism, and just pure arrogance. Don't get me wrong, he's beautiful when he's not sneering at me, but that mouth of his, it's dirtier than my boyfriend's, which is saying a lot."

Is Granger really—Am I really— Draco wasn't stupid. And this conversation was just confusing him more and more by the second. "He can't be that bad."

Hermione laughed, more of a scoff. "He is. But he's gone now, and I can't help but feel a bit for him. I guess I was one of the deluded few that believed that there was something redeemable—something inherently good in him. I was too optimistic…" she faltered in the end. "And I feel guilty that I'm even worried about him, knowing what he did! It's just – grah."

It was all too much for Draco. How Hermione could care for him, even at the slightest, when everyone else is out to get him. His heart beat faster, and his breathing grew more rapid. Too much. Granger…

'"Derek, are you alright?" Concern was evident on Hermione's face. "You look like you're about to barf."

My head feels like mush, actually. "I'm sorry if I just started to tell you all this. It's just that I needed someone… different, to talk to." If you only knew.

And as if on cue, flaming red hair entered the shop; it didn't take a high wizard to know who that was.

"Oi Hermione!" came the loud greeting.

"I have to go," Draco said abruptly, too troubled to care about Hermione's reaction. He stood up quickly, getting his rucksack, and made way through the tables of the coffee shop to the exit. He had hit Ron on the shoulder on the way out, but he didn't turn back, not even to Ron's cursing. Draco was out in the muggle street, and ran. He ran, turning at every street corner, not caring where he'd end up. His breathing was ragged, and he only stopped when exhaustion had forced him to.

Granger actually liked me.

Draco sat on the sidewalk, resting his head on the side of a building. He intended to forget the last conversation that had shook him badly. He would drink all of it away, he would forget… he will. Draco opened his rucksack, and took the bottle that he had been drinking the former night. And in broad daylight, what he saw shocked him.

This isn't firewhisky.

In his hand was a bottle of molten gold substance that was once introduced to them by Professor Slughorn. It was Felix Felicis.

Oh bugger.

Holding up the bottle to see the liquid more clearly, Draco recited the words he had memorized perfectly. "Once consumed, the potion gives the drinker an exhilarating sense of confidence and a tremendous sense of opportunity. However, if taken in excess the potion causes giddiness, recklessness, and dangerous overconfidence, and it is highly toxic in large quantities."

FIN.

A/N: Hope you all liked that twist in the end. Thanks to the Harry Potter lexicon for that last line there. :D REVIEW PEOPLE!