Disclaimer: I love cake. I own cake. I would love to lick frosting from alabaster abs...and I would, if I was JK, but I'm not, so I can't but I still have cake.


Chapter 3

He smelled her before he saw her. He was immersed in his own thoughts when the breeze brushed across his face. He stopped short, frowning. A light, decidedly feminine scent assailed his nostrils. He shuddered as it tickled his hazy memory.

"Flowers? Vanilla? What is that?" He mumbled to himself, hurrying along with the flow of wizards toward the iron gates in front of the impressive estate. He couldn't have told you whose it was, to him it was just the place wizards and witches gathered once a year to remember things he'd rather forget. He caught a glimpse of a slip of a woman, her silver dress sparkling in the moonlight.

"Perhaps it won't be as vile as I thought." He found himself climbing into a carriage with a few other wizards and witches as it travelled slowly down the dirt path, trees enchanted to sparkle on either side.

It was a grand event, as it always was. The food, the drink, the dancing and oh the many speeches. Draco soon found himself bored of it all, wishing instead he were curled in front of a warm fire, a mug of tea and a good book to keep him company. Or a good woman. He wouldn't complain about that one bit.

"Malfoy." It wasn't said with derision, nor was it welcoming. Draco turned and found himself looking down at the star of the evening.

"Potter." He inclined his head, wishing he had left earlier to avoid moments such as this. Harry frowned slightly, noting the forced vehemence in his long time foe's voice.

"Bill sent me over. I dunno why, but he wants you to join us." Harry tilted his head to the left, watching for Malfoy's reaction. Draco rolled his eyes.

"Bill can right sod off. I came. I saw. I'm ready to leave." He hadn't intended on saying anything at all to Potter, the words just sort of found their out of his throat on their own. He did hate when that happened. To his surprise, Harry laughed.

"Secretly, I think Bill wants us all to live happily ever after." Draco scoffed, realising Harry Potter was attempting to be funny. This was entirely too friendly for his liking.

"I'm getting a bit of air." He turned on his heel, Harry's hand stopping him.

"Hey, you can join us if you'd like. If you see Hermione, would you point her in our direction?" Draco found himself confused by Potter's…kindness? Was that actual kindness? What on earth had he gotten himself into?

"Granger? She's here? She never comes to these…" Draco stopped as he saw Harry's eyebrows practically reach his hairline.

"Uh ya. Ginny dragged her. She's hoping it'll be good for her since the whole…" Harry stopped, realising he was telling Draco Malfoy of all people, intimate information about one of his best mates. Malfoy waited, but Harry stubbornly remained silent.

"Alright then." The two nodded at each other, turned in opposite directions and quickly retreated.

Draco glanced over his shoulder, watching Potter being surrounded by a gaggle of Weasleys. Harry turned, meeting Draco's stormy eyes, confusion etched across his face. Bill looked as if he were concerned. Well, as concerned as a werewolf could be anyway. Yes, yes he was well aware Bill Weasley wasn't really a werewolf, but if he couldn't rib Bill a bit, what was the point of living? Draco found himself shaking his head, backing toward the French doors. He really didn't want Bill making a fuss. Potter was cordial, strangely enough and Draco did not feel that old animosity within him anymore, but he didn't exactly wish to be friends with him either.

He stepped backwards onto the veranda, closing the glass doors in front of him before spinning on his heel. There were small groups of wizards and witches chatting amicably. To his right, in the darkest corner was a woman standing alone. The moonlight bounced off her long dark curls, her dress shimmering. Draco watched her pull her purple wrap closer around her shoulders, the breeze growing stronger, pulling it halfway down her waist. She pulled her hair over her left shoulder and his breath caught in his throat.

Not because she was a beautiful, beguiling sight, she was, but it was the scar. A small, silvery scar almost drawn on her seemingly flawless skin with a paintbrush. It started just below her shoulder blade, extended almost clear to the other side, dipping below the back of her dress. It reminded him of his own scar. He knew exactly who had done such a thing to her. He didn't feel remorse. He didn't feel anger. He realised, he didn't feel much of anything at all; shock perhaps. It wasn't often he came across another whom sported a mark given by his aunt. It wasn't something he spoke about nor did anyone else. It made Draco wonder how many other witches and wizards carried a reminder of their moments spent with Bellatrix Lestrange.

Draco found himself moving toward her. He fumbled with the top edge of her purple wrap, drawing it over her shoulders, running his thumb across her scar. She didn't pull away. She didn't flinch. She didn't do much of anything. A soft sigh escaped her lips. He found himself placing his palm against the sid of her neck, his thumb barely grazing her earlobe. She leaned into his hand, still not questioning the forwardness of his actions. He ran his right hand down her shoulder, his left arm encircling her waist. She leaned against him, resting her head on his chest, her left hand covering his right.

"Thanks Bill; knew I could count on you." Draco pulled away slightly, but she held his hand tightly against her shoulder. He could feel her turning around in his arms, releasing his hand. Her liquid brown eyes wide, her mouth parted as she looked into his grey eyes.

"Granger?" He didn't remove his arm from her, nor step away.

"Malfoy." Her brow furrowed, "Thought you were Bill." She shook her head quickly, as if trying to clear her confusion. Draco inhaled, the scent of flowers making him smile. Just a slight, half smile, but she saw it. She tilted her head, studying him curiously.

"I'm sorry." He whispered the words softly. Draco Malfoy didn't know what made him say such a thing, but it felt right. He watched her brown eyes widen in surprise, her lips slightly parted.

"It's you." His heart pounded under her fingertips. He wanted to run. He should be stalking in the opposite direction, derision pouring from his lips, yet he wasn't. He knew he shouldn't be standing anywhere with his arms wrapped around Mudblood Granger. Inwardly, he cringed, hearing his Aunt Bellatrix cackle in the deep recesses of his mind. His father would be furious, but what else was new really.

Hermione didn't pull away from him, instead resting her hand upon his chest. She leaned toward him slightly, inhaling. The woodsy scent of sandalwood and pine was familiar, yet stirred an unpleasant memory she pushed away forcefully.

"It's me. What is that supposed to mean?" Draco Malfoy spat, finding himself irritated, an old feeling of malice rising in him.

"It..it was you…wasn't it?" She hoped she would not have to explain further than that. It was difficult as it was. Hermione watched him draw a shuddering breath, his arms quivering lightly around her.

He wanted to lash out. He wanted to spit hateful words and watch her eyes well with tears. He wanted to shove her away from him, but he couldn't. He saw the broken little girl on his drawing room floor had grown into the woman before him. He didn't want to watch her break.

"Granger, so melodramatic." He scoffed, rolling his eyes with his customary smirk. He blinked and her long fingers were resting against his lips.

"Don't." Her golden eyes closed, hiding them from his sight. "Just answer me." Her voice wavered as his lips burned. It was difficult to remain nonchalant, especially with her in his arms.

"Yes." The word hissed between her fingers in resignation. He opened his eyes to find her staring in wonder, at him, of all people. They weren't aware of how long they stood there, studying each other in silence, Hermione's fingers still pressed against his lips.

Bill Weasley cleared his throat and still, they didn't turn. 'Interesting' he thought to himself, wondering whether he should venture toward them. He didn't want to get on the bad side of his baby sister. Ginny was getting agitated with Hermione's absence, but maybe, that could wait.

Bill's friendship with Draco Malfoy was unexpected yet easy. As much as Bill loved his brothers, and even his wife, they didn't understand; not really. Sure, they were supportive but something was missing. Bill couldn't put his finger on what it was, but whatever it was, Draco had it. Draco had an unspoken understanding when it came down to it and that's exactly what Bill needed. He didn't need to be coddled or pitied. He just wanted someone to listen to his rage without judgement.

Sure, Draco didn't speak of his own angst, but it was easy companionship. He wasn't self conscious, he could be himself; the part of himself which was dark and sometimes a little scary if he was being honest. He could be angry. He could rant and rave and eat his meat however he liked it. Childish? Perhaps, but he would rather release the tension than trap it inside him as his friend was so fond of doing.

Of all the things he expected to happen this evening, this was definitely not one of them.