Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.
He quirked his eyebrow. "Pansy?"
She nodded. "She was telling me some rather interesting news."
Rather interesting news...could that possibly mean...?
The look in her eyes said it all too well.
Yes, yes, it had been.
He chugged down his coffee in one swift movement and proceeded to leave.
"Look, I'm sorry about today – got heaps of paperwork to do and a large order's coming in. I'll catch you later."
She looked slightly disappointed. "Yeah. See you."
Coward, he thought. Big, big, coward. But nonetheless, the close expanse of space between them would only make things more awkward, that is, if she knew precisely what Pansy knew.
And what did Pansy know, for that matter? How much had Blaise told her? Hurriedly he walked to the apparition point – suddenly queasy. It wasn't long before he felt the squeezing sensation and his feet were safely back on carpeted ground.
No safer place than his office, even if it was occasionally inhabited by his secretary (who proceeded to make a living out of watering the indoor plants. Merlin woman – the plants water themselves). A turn of the key and a click made sure that he was now barricaded inside his own office.
Good. It was a perfect closure for his wild, wild, mind.
A rap at the door disturbed him from his thoughtless (and rather stupid) daydream of coffee and naps all day.
"Mr. Malfoy!" said a muffled voice, "You've locked yourself in!"
No shit Sherlock.
"I know Becky. What is it?"
"A letter, addressed directly to you, I was wondering if I should open it for you, you know, in case there's a jinx or something, could've come from the Weasley's store, you know? Horrible stuff they've got, really horrible, might even have a –"
"Becky, shut up and give me the damned letter. If it's addressed directly to me, then give it directly to me. Understood?"
"But Mr. Malfoy –"
"You're my secretary, not my mother. Now open the door and come in before I hex you."
She looked at him as if he'd gone crazy.
"You've locked the door from the inside."
He sank further into his chair, resting his forehead on the table. How stupid was he going to get today?
She'd admit to herself that she was happier than she had been in years - but the reason, she'd never come to believe.
The past few days had been unprofessional, purely casual and free roaming, and the schedule and order felt right at home for her. Being the Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation ensured that work was non-stop and full concentration was required.
A perfect distraction for the mayhem of the past few days.
Love? Coffee? Social outings? She was a businesswoman for Christ's sake! She wasn't supposed to have a life!
Life it seemed, wouldn't let go of her. She'd spent seven whole years trying to protect life itself from the dark clutches of death and destruction, and now, she was taking it for granted. The things that Peace did to her mind.
A testimonial came in through the fax, followed by another work resume (yes, the fax, some muggle inventions just couldn't be replaced by magic). A quill lay delicately balanced on her index finger as she contemplated in the quiet of her office.
This thing with Malfoy, whatever it was, wasn't supposed to be happening. No matter how much of a gentleman he was, or how much he'd changed, or the fact that she had blurted out herself that she liked him as a friend and that she liked the way he changed and...It was an overload, even for her mind.
Her eyelids shut, separating her from this mad world.
There was the sound of crunching bones beneath his feet.
What was he thinking? It was the remaining January snow...but somehow, that pure, cold, white mocked him. We live in a world filled with sin, he thought. What's with this white? Alas, he was walking on bones.
She'd cancelled the coffee. They were supposed to be friends, and yet - this distance wasn't normal. He had hoped for more chances to meet up, for more chances to remember her face, the contours of the skin, the grace of a smile on her lips...
It was unhealthy, this liking. It wasn't typical Malfoy behaviour. But then, the Malfoy name had been so stamped with shame by both communities that there wasn't an image to uphold anymore. A Malfoy was just a name, just something to call someone, no different to Potter, or Weasley, or Granger, for that matter.
He was surprised by his own change of heart - and these sudden realisations, epiphanies, this woman was doing things to him even in her absence.
Yes. Absence. There was a great deal of it. It had only been a week, yet...
Perhaps it was because of his lack of friends and companionship. Hell, she'd been the only true friend that he'd made on his own and despite their backgrounds, he was beginning to like her best. More than Blaise, more than Pansy. It appeared that the only people he had truly cared about and seemed to reciprocate his feelings pulled in him, and pushed him away. His mother was the first, then came Nott, then his conscience, then Granger.
He was a misunderstood boy back then. People pitied him, and they pitied him still.
An old snowman sat perched atop a molehill of snow.
It mocked him.
This is life, said its smile.
"It's been a while."
"It has."
"How's work?"
"Work is work. And you?"
"Nothing much." a pause. "I say we meet up. Have coffee at four."
"I can't - I've got a bill coming from the Bulgarian Ministry this afternoon and I need to run it over with my-"
"No you don't. I checked your timetable."
"How do you have my timetable?"
"Potter."
"Hmm?"
"Boy who won't fucking die."
"Oh. Harry."
Damn that bastard.
"Fine. Same place? Same table?"
"Always the same. Why wouldn't it be?"
"Yeah, I suppose so. I'll see you then."
"See you. And Granger?"
"Hmm?"
"Don't try lying, I can tell even through the phone."
Brilliant - she was going to have a life today.
He sits down in the seat opposite hers. It's a minute until four o'clock. They talk.
"It's sad, really. How it all comes down to this."
"To what?"
"This. You have coffee as an excuse of a life, I have coffee to run away from it. It's a reality that we share."
He can hear her eyes rolling.
"You're such a sap, Malfoy."
"It's true though, isn't it?"
She doesn't say anything, and he knows that she's stumped.
"Possibly."
"You've holed yourself up in your office, wherever it may be. You're hiding."
"Let's just have coffee."
"No, we have to talk."
"Malfoy-"
"You're the only friend I've ever made, and possibly ever had. And I-"
"There's Blaise, and Pansy-"
"Well they're friends that are family-based, so I guess you can't really call them friends-"
"Family based friends are still friends."
"You're getting off the topic."
"What is the topic?"
"Granger..."
"Look Draco. For starters, if we want to be friends, lets call each other by our given names. It makes more sense. Secondly, lets stop pretending that we have anything in common, because we don't. I wanted to be your friend because you're someone who I think could be great friend, different, but great, if you wanted to. But you know me, I have my insecurities and you have yours, and sometimes...sometimes I..."
"Fine then, Hermione. You could at least tell me why you were holing yourself up in the office, effectively, hiding from me. And why you cancelled our coffees, and why you stopped contacting me, and why you...you just left me there, telling me that you were my friend and all that nonsense, because if you are, prove it."
She pauses to sip her coffee. It's gone cold.
"Given our history..."
"Our history? Is that really what you come up with?"
"Draco-"
"Our history is history, okay? I know we're not exactly bread and butter or anything for that matter, but why can't you forget and move on?"
"I don't do forgive and forget Draco! I don't forget! I don't forget the years between us that finally managed to convince me that I was a mudblood!"
"That's stupid Hermione, this is childish nonsense-"
"This isn't stupid!" she lifts a trembling pale hand to her neck. "You see this scar? You see this? My poor dirty blood could have been spilled all over your living room floor that day, and you stood there, and just...just-"
"That was years ago-"
"Let me finish!" a breath, "This is why! I'm scared, Draco! I'm not heroic Hermione Granger anymore. I'm just Hermione Granger. And you've got to understand that this," she motions her hand between the two of them, "Whatever this is, I'm not used to it. You've got to give me time."
He's silent. And for the first time, she's silenced him without a witty comeback or some verbal abuse. She's silenced him with this beautiful, naked, truth.
"You're scared."
"I am. Very much so."
"Of what?"
"I'm scared that...if this, becomes something more, if what I know about you is what's truly real, then I won't be able to take it."
"And what do you know about me?"
She turns her head away, embarrassed.
"I can't - I can't say."
He rests his head on his palms, elbows digging into the table.
"Well lets give it a try then, shall we? If it becomes something more, it becomes something more. We've got to start somewhere, right?"
He reaches out a hand across the table, a gesture of start-overs and amendments.
She spoke. "So if-"
"You've honestly got to stop saying if. It's an unhealthy habit."
A fortress of silence guarded their many secrets. She cast wary eyes on the hand that lay outstretched on the table. Her fragile hand stirred in her lap, but nothing more.
"I promise I'll start my life if you promise to stop running away from yours."
"Deal."
"And Draco," her hand reached over and clasped his, an unbreakable seal, "If I happen to fall in love with you, don't blame me."
Lots of dialogue in this one :/ I can see where this is heading now...
Reviews appreciated!
