Hermione straightened her apron as she peered around the almost empty bar and then looked back at Draco Malfoy who was casually sipping his cocktail while eyeing her suspiciously.
"Paris?" Draco questioned.
Hermione inwardly rolled her eyes because even though there were other kinds of emotions that she refused to show, fury and annoyed weren't among the list. He had ordered three cocktails and still, an hour before she was to close, he was still sitting there.
"Yes, Paris." Hermione answered shortly and tried to find things to keep busy.
She helped a few regulars by making a couple of drinks and trying her best to avoid looking over where Draco Malfoy was sitting. She figured that Paris would be free of former classmates and memories but she feared that she was wrong.
"Why Paris?" Draco asked, once it was just them left in the bar.
"If you must know, I had to get away from anything revolving around the war and my failed relationship. Clearly, I made a mistake." Hermione answered.
"Of course you did. You're still in Europe. Did you think that our classmates aren't from all over the globe?" He said sarcastically.
Hermione physically rolled her eyes and took the last of the dirty glasses from her last customers while begging the clock to make the time go faster. She walked over to take Draco's empty glass.
"Okay, that's enough. We're closing." She said simply.
"You still have thirty minutes!" Draco argued.
"Your point?" Hermione questioned, dumping the dirty glasses in the washer.
"I want another drink," Draco said, sitting back in his chair.
"You've already had four glasses. You're clearly tipsy. I think you've had enough," Hermione said, refusing to make another drink.
"Who are you to tell me if I've had enough? I'm Draco Malfoy. No one can tell me when I've had enough other than me and I haven't. Another drink!" He demanded.
Hermione turned and slammed an old fashioned glass on the bar and poured vodka and grapefruit juice to the brim with ice and placed it in front of him.
"This isn't a Vesper." He said calmly.
"No, it's a Greyhound. Bitter and icy just like your personality. Down this and get out of the bar or I'll have you thrown out!" Hermione hissed.
Hermione threw her apron on the counter and began to turn the lights out. She hadn't been this mad in forever and she couldn't say whether she had missed it much. She waited in the kitchen until she heard the familiar clang of an empty glass and the bell above the door signaling that he had left.
She exhaled a lot of air that she hadn't realized she'd been holding and peeked around the corner to make sure he had left. When she realized that he had left an empty glass of her cocktail sitting on top of the red napkin she immediately went over to lock the bar door and pull the shades.
Over the course of two weeks she had closed this bar many times, kept the books, and signed for more alcohol to be delivered to the bar whenever they would run low. She kept the bar from caving in under the pressure of French economy and everyone was impressed with how quickly she caught on.
However, now she was faced with the dilemma that one of the worst memories of the war was now drinking at the bar she cared for the most. Her arm was in pain just thinking about it and it caused goose bumps to rise up and down her arms. She had every right in her mind to leave again but she knew that if she kept running from her past that she would never find her feeling again. Besides, she loved this bar too much to leave it to ruin.
Once back at her flat, she cleaned up after Crookshanks hastily fed dinner and made a snack for herself of cheese and crackers. When she saw that it was almost four in the morning she turned in and readied herself for another day tomorrow. She would be damned if she let Draco Malfoy ruin her one chance at finding herself.
-XOX-
It had been another week and Hermione had not seen Draco since their last unpleasant meeting and for that she was grateful. She was creating new cocktails by this time and adding them to the menu while taking on some more manager duties. Everyone liked working with her and her in return. This was something she could get used to. Running a bar and living in Paris. Who knew how exhilarating this would be? She certainly never thought about it while reading Hogwarts: A History or studying potions.
She lived normally off of tips and a couple of pay raises from her boss. Of course, she had her savings and rewards from the war but she only used them if she was in extreme need of groceries or if Crookshanks was running low on food. She had almost forgot about being a witch entirely but there was a sickeningly annoying reminder that showed up at the bar two hours before she was to close again that brought back every pain that she wished would disappear.
"What was that drink you served me last week?" Draco asked, sitting down in the same spot while running his hand through his hair.
"A Greyhound." She replied shortly, cleaning the glasses as usual.
"Can I have one of those?" Draco asked.
Did Malfoy just ask for something and not demand it? She figured that she must be hearing things but when she looked over at him she realized how awful he looked. He looked as if he hadn't slept in days since there were dark circles forming under his eyes and he looked as if he would fall asleep any moment.
"Yeah, just a second." She replied and began making the drink.
When she set the napkin down in front of him it was if she had snapped him back into reality for a few seconds. He instantly downed the drink and practically begged for another. When she made him another one he did the exact same thing. To say she was worried about the snake would be an exaggeration but something has got him bugged. Her bartender skill that she had picked up recently was to pry information out of people. She didn't know if it would work on him but she had to give it a try.
"Can I have another one?" He asked again and she nodded.
She looked around to make sure there was no one she was neglecting and only a few people were drinking or talking in the booths around the bar. All of their drinks had been replenished and she found this the perfect opportunity to try and get him to talk.
She made him another cocktail that wasn't what he had ordered and set it down in front of him. He looked at her curiously as she placed both hands on the bar and leaned to kind of support herself.
"What is this?" He questioned, peering at the drink.
"It's called a Rusty Nail." She said simply.
"Oh…" He went to drink it down in one gulp and she stopped him before he could finish it.
"I think you need to slow down a bit," Hermione said gently and watched as he slammed the half empty glass down in front of her.
She wasn't shocked, phased, or frightened by his reaction. In fact, she expected it. She expected him to react angrily because that's how drunk people get when they are told to slow down. Hermione had seen enough over the course of three weeks to know people and their reactions. Besides, she studied books on Psychology before becoming an Auror so she had a hankering.
"You don't tell me what to do, I'm-" Hermione interrupted his rant.
"Yeah yeah, you're THE Draco Malfoy and no one tells you when you've had enough except for you. I get it. All I was saying is that you need to slow down your consumption. There is such a thing as liver depletion is muggles and wizards," She said that last part quietly so no one around them could understand what they were talking about.
He grunted and leaned back in the chair while looking at the half empty glass sitting in front of him. It was almost as if he was studying the drink that Hermione had given him.
"That's another good cocktail," He commented.
It was rare to hear but she took it as a compliment. It was another drink she was going to add to the menu but she, unknowingly to him, used Draco as a taste tester before making her decision.
"By the way, you look terrible. Something bothering you?" Hermione questioned.
She also expected his reaction to her question to be one of snobbish intent and that part was exceeded. Still, she had to try if not for curiosities sake.
"Why do you care?" He asked, not meeting her curious brown eyes.
"I'm a bartender. It's my job to care," She told him simply, drying off several more glasses.
"Yeah, well don't." He said, polishing off the last of his drink.
"Another?" Hermione questioned and that was when he actually looked at her.
"I thought I needed to slow down my consumption?" He asked, mocking her words from earlier.
"That you do, but this fourth one won't kill you yet." Hermione said, taking a martini glass from the stack and making the very first cocktail that he had ever asked her to make.
When she set it down in front of him he noticed right away what drink it was. The corners of his mouth twitched slightly as if wanting to smile but he thought better of it and just drank the drink normally and slowly. He watched as she ushered around the bar with her forced smiles and dull brown eyes while she made sure everyone had what they needed. He, naturally, stayed until closing time.
"Even though I've only seen you in here twice, I know you know that I'm closing up," Hermione reminded him, ignoring the fact that even though he was a shallow prick he was still a customer.
She had to get over the past.
She would remind herself. She had to look at him like he was anyone else that wanted a drink after a hard day of work, after a fight, or just one to relax. She couldn't keep labeling people and letting them keep her from moving on with her life. Even though, every time she had looked his way tonight her left arm remembered the pain even though her mind didn't want to.
"One more?" He questioned.
She peered at the clock and realized that it was ten minutes past closing but, to be honest, she wanted a drink as well. She nodded and went over to lock the bar door and dim the lights so people would think they were closed.
"Do you have a request or are you wanting to try something off the menu?" Hermione questioned before setting dirty glasses in the sink for the millionth time that evening.
"Off menu," He requested.
"Okay," She said, leaning down to go under the cabinet and pulled out a secret brown paper sack that she had been holding for a few weeks since she started working there. She set two old fashioned glasses down and filled them with ice. He watched, clearly interested. She poured the liquor straight into the cup about a fourth and handed him a glass while taking one in her own hand.
"What's this one called?" He asked.
"Firewhisky," She said simply, causing him to chuckle.
"A very wizard like drink, I do believe." He commented and sipped it much more gently than the previous drinks he had murdered earlier.
"I miss it every once in a while. If I want to get drunk I go for muggle alcohol but nothing quite hits the spot like an old fashioned wizard liquor." She mentioned, polishing off her drink.
"I never would have imagined you in this place," He mentioned, his words were starting to slur.
"Neither would I. Everything is different now, though. I'm not the same person," She said, cleaning up the last of the glasses and wiping down the bar.
"I can tell. I imagined you as an Auror," He said.
"I quit." She said, purposefully being short whenever he talked about her past.
"There is one more thing that I would like to say before I leave," He said, trying his best to not sound drunk.
"Okay," She said, turning towards him.
He fixed his suit jacket and straightened his tie. She had never noticed how particularly handsome he was because, well let's face it, he was Draco Malfoy. She may have tried to forget the past but he had been the one to call her names, leave her to Bellatrix Lestrange's unlicensed tattoo parlor, and treated her like the dirt under his shoe. Still, there was something about him that she could find attractive if you looked past the icy demeanor and strikingly stale criminal past that he has. It had been five years and she hoped that people would change. She knows that she had changed.
"I appreciate that you can put all the bad stuff behind you even though I don't deserve it. It's not an apology but…I appreciate not being treated like a-" Hermione interrupted him.
"Like a deatheater?" She questioned.
Her words almost faltered and he had to clear his throat.
"Not my choice of words, but yes." He nodded towards her and walked out of the bar.
She didn't understand how she could put it past her either. She was doing better than she expected but still, something was in the way.