Disclaimer: I own none of the characters in this story. They all belong to JK Rowling. I merely thank her for writing such a compelling series that it sparks my imagination. No copyright infringement is intended. I make no money from this, I just use it to live out my fantasies.
A week went by and he didn't see her around at all which was no big surprise. They'd apparently lived in the same neighborhood for over a year and had never crossed paths until that night at the bar. It was clear she spent most of her time working or elsewhere and not stalking the city streets or hanging out in seedy dive bars. And that was perfectly fine with him. He was completely over her. Or at least that's what he told himself every time he caught his thoughts wandering to her and remembering what it felt like to have her underneath him. The cure for those thoughts was to drink more. And so he did. He was sitting in his flat drinking his life away when there was a knock on his door. He had no idea who the hell it would be since no one knew where he lived and he had no friends. He got up warily and looked through the peephole. It was Hermione. She was standing there wearing a raincoat for some reason. It wasn't raining and it certainly wasn't cold outside. It was actually unseasonably warm. They'd been having a heat wave. He contemplated not answering but his curiosity got the better of him. He opened up the door and just stared at her. She was in a raincoat and high heels and her legs were bare. By the glassy look in her eyes he could tell she was three sheets to the wind and probably had no idea she was dressed like a loon and standing in his doorway.
"What the hell do you want?" he asked her with a glare.
"I don't know. I was just in the neighborhood and thought I'd stop by," she slurred with a smile on her face.
"Stop by? In a fucking raincoat? It's not even cloudy outside."
She stepped forward and stumbled a little over her shoes, which she wasn't used to wearing. She pushed him back into his apartment and shut the door behind her.
"I am feeling rather warm in this coat. Maybe you want to take it off me?" she asked drunkenly.
"What kind of game is this? Just get out of my flat and take your bloody coat with you."
"Oh come on Draco. Aren't you curious what I have on under here?" she asked with a sly smile.
"Not really."
"She started to undo the tie at her waist and he reached out and stopped her.
"Don't take it off. You're not staying. You don't like me, remember? So get bent. Also, you're drunk," he told her, trying to shove her towards the door.
"You're drunk too. I can tell. You smell like a whiskey bottle laced with cigarettes. Do you know every time I smell a cigarette now I think of you?" she asked him.
"Really? That's touching. Now get out."
She walked towards him and pushed him back down onto his couch. She undid the raincoat and let it fall to the floor. And underneath it she was wearing nothing but some sexy red lace underwear. He was utterly speechless. All the blood rushed out of his head and into his pants.
"Oh my God," he muttered, staring at her. "What the hell are you trying to do to me? Torture me?"
"No. Do you like my outfit?" she asked leaning over towards him and he could smell the drink on her breath.
He grabbed her arm roughly and pulled her down to him.
"Stop playing games with me. I don't like it. You come here dressed like that and you expect me to just forget that the last time we were together you blasted me off your couch and sent me packing in my fucking underwear? Do you think I'm an idiot? I don't want you, so just put your fucking coat back on and get out of here," he hissed at her angrily and shoved her away from him.
She stood there for a moment and didn't know what to say. She had gotten very drunk at her apartment and for some reason it seemed the thing to do to come looking for him for a bit of fun. She may have thrown him out before, but she never stopped thinking about him. She couldn't. It was like he lived inside her head now. But she knew she'd treated him badly before and she had no excuse. She just thought he wouldn't care. She figured he was a man and if she showed up in her underwear, all would be forgiven. But apparently she was mistaken. She felt like a complete fool and was suddenly incredibly embarrassed. She picked up her coat and pulled it on hastily. She felt tears forming behind her eyes at his rejection.
"Are you bloody crying, Granger?" he asked her with a sigh.
She wiped at her eyes. "No, I'm not. Just forget it."
"You are crying. Perfect. I made you fucking cry. I've never been able to do that," he muttered.
"I'm not crying!" she protested but the tears were running down her face proving that she was lying.
He sighed loudly and got up and put his arm around her. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled at you," he told her softly.
"No, no, you had every right. I don't even know what I was thinking coming here. Especially like this," she said indicating her clothes challenged outfit.
"It was a nice sight, believe me. Don't think it had no effect on me because it did. But I'm sick of being used like a sex toy that you just shove under the bed again once you've gotten off," he told her seriously.
"That's not what I'm doing. I don't know what I'm doing, honestly." She sat herself down on his couch and held her head in her hands. "I didn't think you cared one way or the other what I did," she admitted.
"I'm still fucking human. I have feelings."
"I thought you'd be happy to have sex and then just forget all about it afterwards. Isn't that what most guys want?"
He shrugged. "Sure, sometimes. But I don't know. I thought we made a connection. I told you stuff I've never told anyone else. Is it so weird for me to actually want you to care a little? I mean, no one else does, but I thought maybe you did," he admitted softly, cursing himself for laying the truth out there when it left him vulnerable.
"You wanted me to care about you?" she asked curiously.
"I dunno. Yeah. I did. I'm not saying it's true love or some such shit as that. But I'm a fucking person and I deserve a little respect, I think."
"I'm sorry. I was foolish. Have you ever been in love before?" she asked.
"Me? In love? No. There's never been anyone I've been able to stand long enough to fall in love with them."
"I was in love once. But I screwed it all up. I pushed him away too and I think maybe I'm just not capable of caring about anyone right now."
He smoothed the hair out of her face and looked at her.
"I don't believe that. I think right now you're just going through a rough time. But it's not like you're a lost cause or anything. Me, on the other hand, I think I may be too far gone to save."
"Rubbish. I don't think so. I think right now you're just hell bent on self destructing."
"Yeah, maybe I am. But maybe I keep hoping for a reason not to."
"I should leave. I've made an utter fool of myself and I should just go," she said avoiding what he'd just said. She couldn't give him a reason not to self destruct. She couldn't even find her own reason to halt her own self destruction right now.
"You don't have to leave. But you might want some real clothes. I could give you something to put on," he told her.
"I don't know. It might be better if I just went home and slept it off. I'm pretty wasted," she admitted.
"Well so am I, so we can keep each other company," he smiled.
Then he got up and walked down the hallway and disappeared into his room. He grabbed a t-shirt off a hanger and rooted in a drawer for some drawstring pajama pants he never wore. He came back out into the living room and tossed them to her.
"Here, put these on. The pants are a little big I think, but they have a string."
"Thanks," she muttered as she took off the raincoat and pulled the clothing on quickly. She settled back down on the couch and tucked her feet underneath her. "So what were you doing before I got here?"
"Nothing. Just sitting here and thinking and drinking. What were you doing before you got the bright idea to come here half naked in a raincoat?"
"Pretty much the same thing you were doing. Then I got lonely. So I came here. I figured you'd be more welcoming than you were," she admitted.
He laughed. "Not many men will pass up a drunk girl in their lacy underwear throwing themselves at you, but I didn't want to be that guy tonight. That's not what you really need."
"What do I really need then?"
He scooted over closer to her and put his arm around her. He pulled her close to him and he kissed the top of her head. "You need a friend. And since there's no one else around, you can pretend I'm your friend," he told her sincerely.
"Pretend you're my friend?"
"Yes. I know it's a stretch, but just give it a go."
"Okay. Well as my friend you'll need to listen to me talk and mope and complain. And you should be comforting and supportive, even if I'm totally out of line and insane. That's what friends do," she explained to him.
"Got it. I think I can do that. So what do you want to talk about?"
"I dunno. I've got boy trouble."
"Boy trouble?"
"Yep. It seems as though my ex has already moved on. He's found some other tramp to be with. I've been replaced," she said miserably.
"I see. Replaced already? How long has it been?"
"Not even two months yet! He just forgot all about me and is now shagging some bint named Sarah. She's tall and blonde and has boobs. I don't have boobs!"
He laughed slightly. "Sure you do. You've got nice boobs. I enjoyed them."
"You're biased."
"No I'm not. They were quite wonderful. Perky. What's not to love?"
"Fine my boobs are acceptable, but she's got big ones. Probably fake. But he doesn't seem to care. I saw them together at work. Stupid bimbo."
"I thought you broke up with him?"
"I did. Sort of. It was kind of mutual. We just didn't work together. But you still think he'd wait longer to move on to someone else."
"You didn't. You were with me before he was with her. So what's the big deal?" he asked curiously.
"See, you're doing it wrong. You're supposed to agree with me even when I'm being crazy. Remember?"
"Sorry, I forgot. You want me to pay a visit to the Weasel and hex his bits off for you? I could do it happily. I never did like that git."
"No I don't want you to do that. I still care about him. Which is the stupid part," she lamented.
"Are you still in love with him?"
"No. Not in love, but I do love him. It's complicated. I just never thought he'd get over me so fast."
"Well maybe she's just a bit of cold comfort like you got from me? Maybe it doesn't mean anything?" he offered.
"Maybe? I didn't exactly go up to him and ask after I saw them snogging in a hallway when they thought no one was looking. I ran the other way before they saw me."
"So that's why you came here tonight in nothing but your knickers and a raincoat? Because you wanted to get back at your ex for moving on?"
She shrugged. "Sort of. I don't know. I mean, if he's shagging some bimbo, then I want to do it too."
"Hey now, I'm not a bimbo. I'm a man," he reminded her. "Unless you'd like to explore other options on the other side of the team?"
She smacked his chest and laughed. "Be quiet, stupid! I'm not going to switch teams and shag a bimbo. You know what I meant. I just wanted someone too."
"Well I'm flattered that you chose me to use in order to make yourself feel better," he said dryly.
"It would have worked. I mean if Ron knew I shagged you of all people, he'd have a fucking coronary. It would be tragically hilarious to see his reaction," she said somewhat dreamily.
"You want me to come to work with you and feel you up and make out with you in front of his office? Because as your friend, I would stoop that low for you."
She thought about it for a moment then she shook her head. "No. I couldn't do that. Someone else might see. And that can't happen."
"Right. We wouldn't want to ruin your stellar reputation."
"Nobody even knows I've seen you again. I haven't said a word."
"Ashamed of me, I assume?" he asked somewhat sadly.
"No, not ashamed of you. It's just who would understand? I don't even understand. And I know you don't understand."
"No you're right. I don't understand. I have no idea what possesses me to want to spend time with you. And I'm even more clueless as to why you keep throwing yourself at me when you say you don't even like me," he shook his head.
"Just go with it. Don't question it. I might not like you, but I like being with you. You make me feel alive," she said looking into his eyes.
"I don't know how that's possible," he told her.
"Me neither. But you, Draco, are my guilty pleasure. And you're so cute. I never thought you were cute before, but you are. So cute," she said putting both her hands on his face and smooshing his cheeks together.
He pulled her hands away from his face. "Stop squishing me. You are so wasted. You don't even know what you're talking about," he laughed at her.
"No I do. I really do. You're cute and I like looking at you."
"Well thank you. I like looking at you too, Granger. You're not half bad to lay eyes on," he told her honestly.
"Really? You mean that? I never felt pretty before. I always just thought I was average. Or maybe even below average. My hair is unruly and stupid and I'm not curvy enough. And my teeth are too big. I'm a mess," she said unhappily.
"Stop it. That's completely untrue. You are rather beautiful to me," he assured her.
"You're just saying that."
"Why would I just say that if I didn't mean it?"
"Because you're pretending to be my friend right now."
"Bollocks. I shagged you senseless, twice. And I don't fancy myself with an ugly bint. I have my pride. I'd never be with anything less than an eight or a nine."
"An eight or a nine? You number girls?"
"Sure. All guys do. It's a thing. Now back in school we used to number all the girls and pick which ones were worth going after," he explained to her.
"That's horrible. Men are stupid."
"We're not stupid, love. We're just choosy. Who wants to be with someone that isn't attractive? I never saw you with any guy that was ugly in school either."
"You have a point I guess. But I doubt I made your stupid list in school," she told him.
"Maybe not on the official list, but that's just because we hated each other. It didn't matter what you looked like," he told her.
"Well if I had a list you wouldn't have been on mine either. You looked like a pompous dolt with your hair all slicked back like you used to wear it. People used to say that Snape had greasy hair, but yours was glued to your head."
"It wasn't greasy, it was gel. I washed my hair. Snape probably ran from shampoo."
Hermione couldn't help but laugh. "Shampoo was his boggart."
"You might be right about that," he laughed back.
"No in all seriousness I think his boggart was something much worse and more personal," she admitted.
"How would you know what his boggart would be?"
"Harry told me some stuff. Stuff that wasn't in the papers after the war. It was personal."
"Snape shared personal things with Harry? He hated Harry."
"He didn't really. You know that he was actually good right?"
"Yeah, I knew that. At least afterwards I read about it."
"Well he was in love with Harry's mum. So I'd imagine his boggart would be seeing her die," she explained.
"He loved Harry's mum? That's weird. I didn't even know they knew each other."
"I didn't either. But I guess it was true. Opposites attract sometimes. But she never forgave him for joining the Death Eaters."
"Yeah, most nice girls don't forgive you for that," Draco said softly as he looked down at his own Dark Mark staring him in the face.
Hermione sensed his eyes travel to his arm and she reached out and took it and held it in front of her.
"I know you didn't want to get this. You were forced to. There's nothing to forgive," she said softly tracing the pattern of the mark on his arm.
He pulled his arm back, uneasy with her affectionate touching of it and her words. How did she know he wanted forgiveness?
"I wasn't asking for forgiveness," he protested.
"No, you weren't. But you still want it. And you don't have to worry because it's forgiven," she whispered softly.
"Why would you forgive me for having this?"
"Because I know it's not really who you are and that it never was. Snape had one of these on his arm too. But he was a good man. He changed. He might have been a totally dreadful personality, but he was still good hearted. He risked everything for the greater good. So in essence the mark is meaningless unless you want to make it mean something bad."
"I don't want it to mean anything. I wish I could get rid of it, but dark magic doesn't go away. But I have thought of getting other tattoos so it's not so bloody obvious on my arm. I could get lots of tattoos and cover it up," he said thoughtfully.
"I can't see you with a bunch of tattoos," she told him.
"I dunno. My parents would hate it, which makes it more appealing. If I came home looking like Muggle street trash they'd have a fit."
"People with tattoos aren't street trash," she scolded him.
"Well in my parents eyes, they are. I don't think so. I could care less. But if they could see this flat I'm in they'd flip out. It's not up to Malfoy standards. And my smoking? I shudder to even think what my father would do to me."
"I'd have to agree with him on that one. Smoking is unappealing. Kissing you after you smoke is like licking an ashtray," she told him.
"You don't like my kisses?"
She shrugged. "I don't know. Not when you've just smoked. But mostly you taste like liquor and bad decisions."
"Thanks a lot. Liquor and bad decisions? Bad decisions have a taste?" he said sarcastically.
"Yeah, it's a little chalky."
"Yeah, well you taste like wine and tragedy. So take that."
She looked at him. "Wine and tragedy? What exactly does tragedy taste like?"
He thought for a moment then he shrugged. "It's a little like a pepper flavored Every Flavor Bean."
"I do not taste like that."
"Well I don't taste chalky," he protested. He grabbed her face and kissed her roughly and then he let go and smirked at her. "See? Not chalky."
She wiped her mouth and glared at him. "Now you just taste like whiskey and salt. Were you eating crisps earlier?"
He laughed slightly. "Yes, I was."
"I thought so."
"But don't tell me that kiss was unpleasant."
"No, it was pleasant. Sort of. But I've had better," she shrugged.
"You're hard to please. I can do better. Wait here," he said as he untangled himself from her and got up and went down the hallway. She just watched him go with confusion and then he came back after a minute. Then he plopped down next to her and pulled her close to him.
"You smell all minty now," she told him.
"I brushed my teeth and gargled with mouthwash," he told her with a smile. Then he leaned in and kissed her again. He pulled back and looked into her eyes. "So how was that?"
"Hmm, well it was refreshing. A little cold. Like kissing a snowman."
"A snowman? How many snowman have you kissed?"
"Just you."
"You're impossible. You'll never be happy," he said shoving her slightly.
"I'm happy! I'm happy!" she said with a giggle. Then she just stopped for a second and looked at him. Really looked at him and she saw not a broken man, but a kind man. It was completely bizarre. He could have taken advantage of her tonight and he didn't. She invited him to ravish her but instead he just wanted to sit and talk because he knew better than she did, that this is what she needed.
"Why are you staring at me like that?" he asked uncomfortably.
"No reason. Sorry. It's just I realized that I was happy. I mean, actually happy. It was just for a moment, but it was there. And it was because of you," she said with surprise in her voice.
"Mission accomplished then. I wanted you to be happy. One of us should be," he said quietly.
She just looked at him again and then she curled up in his arms and he held her tightly. They didn't say another word to each other. She just wanted him to hold her. And he did. And they both fell asleep and had pleasant dreams for the first time in a long while.
Hermione woke up and had the worst crick in her neck. She was leaning over and Draco had his arms around her but his legs were stretched out onto the floor and his head was tossed back. He looked about as comfortable as she felt. She stirred and it woke him up.
"Oh God, my neck," he said rubbing it slightly with his eyes all blurry.
"We fell asleep. Why did you let me fall asleep? I need to go home," she complained, trying to disentangle her limbs from his.
"I didn't let you fall asleep, we both just passed out. My fucking head is killing me," he complained.
"I feel like I want to throw up. God, we didn't do anything last night, did we?" she asked.
"No. Don't you remember? I turned you down. Which was no easy feat, believe me."
"That's right. I came here in my bloody underwear and tried to seduce you. Oh God, I'm a total slut."
"Shut up. You are not. You were just drunk off your ass. Nothing happened."
"I know. I remember. You told me to leave and then you decided to pretend to be my friend and listen to me," she recalled.
"It was what you needed, so I gave it to you. It's not a big thing," he shrugged.
"Right. Yeah, it was nothing I guess," she said dismissively, even though what he did actually meant the world to her. But she didn't want to tell him that. "I need to go home. I have to be at work. What time is it?"
He looked over at the clock on the wall. "It's half past nine."
"Shit! I'm supposed to be at work by eight thirty! What the hell am I gonna say?" she said frantically scrambling off the couch.
"Just tell them you overslept. What are they gonna do? Fire you? They bloody love you there. Stop fretting."
She quickly put on her shoes and grabbed her raincoat and then she headed for the door. She opened it and then she stopped for a moment. She turned back around and went over to Draco. She leaned down and kissed his cheek.
"Thank you for last night," she told him sincerely.
"Don't mention it. You know where to find me if you wanna talk again," he told her.
"Right. Okay. I have to leave. I'll see you later."
She turned and rushed out the door and out of his building. She felt like crap and considered just calling in sick, but she knew she had a mountain of work to do. It wasn't like her to call in sick. But then again, nothing she'd been doing lately was like her. She was a stranger even to herself. But as she rushed up her steps, she knew she should just go to work and power through the massive hangover she had. Drinking on a work night was a really stupid idea. As was her plan of going to Draco's and seducing him. It had backfired in her face. But it wasn't all for nothing. She had gotten something out of the encounter. Something much more confusing than just a simple comfort shag. He'd actually sat with her and listened to her talk. He didn't take advantage of her crazy mental state and her lack of clothing. In fact, he'd tried to throw her out. He wanted her to care about him and not just use him for sex. It was strange and unsettling and she didn't know what to do with the information. She had been sure he'd give her what she came after, but he refused. What kind of man does that? And he swore it wasn't because she was ugly or unappealing. It was because he wanted more from her than that. She didn't know if she could give him that. But she did remember feeling happy in his presence. She'd gone there to forget her troubles and he'd delivered. Just not in the way she expected him to deliver it. His kindness and gentleness were unexpected and more confusing than if he'd just attacked her and ripped off what little clothing she possessed. That would have at least made sense. But now she stood in her room wearing his clothes and she felt like never taking them off. They were a part of him. And they smelled like his apartment, which wasn't an altogether pleasant smell, but it reminded her of him. What was happening to her? She quickly removed the clothes and threw them aside and jumped in the shower. She couldn't be any later to work than she already was. There was no time to contemplate the deeper meaning of what the last night meant or didn't mean. She just had to put on a smile and go about her life. That's what she did best.
She arrived at work extremely late. She ran into Harry on her way to her office and he looked at her with some confusion.
"Are you just arriving? It's nearly eleven," he asked her.
"I know. I overslept. My alarm didn't go off. Do you think I'm in trouble?" she wondered.
"I don't know. Anderson was asking about you earlier but I told him I didn't know where you were. Is everything alright?"
"Yeah, yeah, it's fine. I'm just a bit out of sorts these days," she admitted to him.
"I've noticed. Is this because of Ron and Sarah?"
She bristled at the mention of their names and tried to put on a brave face. "I don't really care about them to be honest. Ron's moved on and that's good for him. Perhaps I've moved on as well?"
"You have? With who?" Harry wondered.
"Just someone I met. It's not serious. But I'm completely over Ron. He can do whatever he likes," she said nonchalantly.
"Are you sure? You seem strange."
"I'm fine. And I'm really late for work, so I need to get to my office."
"Okay. I won't keep you. But Hermione, I'm still your friend. I know we haven't talked a lot since you and Ron broke up, but I haven't forgotten you," he told her sincerely.
"Well thanks. That's good. But I'm fine, really. I just need to go."
"I'll see you around."
She just nodded and hurried off to her office and hoped that she wouldn't get chewed out for being so late. She caught her reflection in the glass that lined the wall and noticed she had dark circles under her eyes. She looked like hell. And she felt like it too. But she hadn't taken the time to put on makeup or fix her hair. She'd just pulled it into a wet ponytail. With her appearance, she wasn't fooling anyone that she was actually alright. But the show must go on, she told herself. It was time to act professional. She ran into her boss just as she reached her door.
"Miss Granger, you're incredibly tardy this morning. It's almost afternoon. Was there some problem with you?" her boss asked.
"I'm really sorry. My alarm didn't ring and I was feeling a bit under the weather anyhow. But I'm here. I'm sorry I didn't let anyone know."
"You do look rather ill, I must say. Perhaps you should just go home?"
"No, that's not necessary. I'm alright," she insisted.
"I think you should head home. You don't want to get everyone else sick. We'll manage without you for one day," he told her sympathetically.
"Are you sure? Because I can work."
"I'm positive. Your record is stellar and you never take sick days. So go home and get some rest."
"Okay, thank you. I'll be in tomorrow and I won't be late," she promised.
She went home and didn't really know what to do with herself. She was still rather tired but when she laid down, sleep wouldn't come. She just laid there thinking about the night before and how completely different it had turned out from what she expected. Draco had been tender and kind, which was not like him at all. Usually he was rough and rude and smug. Sure he had started the evening out by getting mad at her and telling her to leave, but at the sight of her tears, he'd crumbled into something resembling a human being. Maybe she hadn't been treating him altogether fairly? She was just using him as a means to forget her real life. Being with him was like an escape to some underground place where there were no rules and no one watching you to see if you were doing the right things. In fact when she was with him, she was always doing the wrong things, but it felt so freeing. She didn't have to be nice and sweet and pleasant with him. She didn't have to put on a smile she didn't feel. She didn't have to pretend to be something she wasn't and it was refreshing. But he had made it clear to her that using him for her naughty kicks wasn't a game he wanted to play. She wasn't sure what to do with that information.
Draco sat in his own apartment feeling restless. He'd been drinking most of the day just trying to forget the night before. Why hadn't he taken advantage of Hermione in her crazed state? She was standing there in her underwear begging to be shagged and he'd tried to send her packing. What sort of man was he? A stupid one, he realized. He couldn't believe he'd actually sat there and pretended to be her friend and listen to her troubles. Boy troubles, at that. As if he really cared. He didn't care one way or the other who her ex was banging now. And it was obvious she still didn't like him when she told him his kisses tasted like bad decisions. That had stung a little more than he wanted it to. He didn't want to be her bad decision. In fact, he didn't know what he wanted to be to her. He certainly didn't want to be her friend. And he apparently didn't want to be her fuck buddy either. Yet he kept thinking about nothing but her to the point of distraction. So what did it all mean? He thought he just wanted to play games with her, but when she'd tried to do that to him he rejected her and then she cried. And suddenly his heart couldn't take it. He'd never seen Granger cry before. He was sure she'd done it loads of times, but nothing he ever did or said to her ever made her cry. Not until last night. And he just couldn't handle it. He had to comfort her. It was stupid really. He had no real place in her life except to be her guilty pleasure. And he wasn't even sure he could do that right.
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