Two small cups of tea sat on the walnut dining room table, one in front of a slender, blond man and the other in front of a puzzled, umber-eyed woman. She stirred sugar into the teacup, her eyes fixed on the hot beverage as it swirled around her tiny silver spoon. If someone had asked her a month ago, she never would have thought she would be sitting with the man in his cottage.
"Sorry for the mess," Draco murmured, blowing on the hot tea. "I wasn't expecting company."
Hermione looked around the room. It was spotless, sans the tea kettle on the countertop and the two cups in front of them. She expected nothing less from her orderly ex-lover, as he had always presented himself as nothing short of immaculate. It only reminded her how untidy her husband was.
"I'd hardly call this a mess," Hermione laughed. "You should see my house."
Draco had a snide comment prepared, but instead, he held his tongue and laced his fingers together. "So what brings you here so early, Granger?"
It was the question that Hermione had been dreading. Deep inside her heart, she knew the answer, but she could not tell him that he made her rethink her marriage. Suddenly, the sense of resolve that she had felt the day before was subsiding. She was left only with confusion.
"Well, Ron and I aren't exactly getting along as well as I'd like," she started, slowly. "I-I don't mean to press on a sore spot, but I thought you may have some advice. You mentioned that you and Astoria used to have some issues..." She trailed off, realizing how insensitive she was being at the mention of his late wife. "I'm so sorry, Draco... I didn't mean—"
He waved away the notion that she had said something offensive. "It's fine."
Hermione crossed her ankles under the table, awkwardly leaning forward on the chair. "I guess I'm asking how you two learned to get along."
Draco cocked an eyebrow. Despite all the time that had passed, he could still read her face. Everything from her discomfort to her uncertainty told him that she was not being forthright with him, and due to the strained look on her face, he knew why.
"She was dying," he reminded her in a matter-of-fact tone. "It's difficult to argue with someone when they're dying. I don't know if you've tried it, but they don't exactly have much to discuss unless you include meals and painkilling potions."
Hermione chewed on her lip. The night before, she had stayed awake, thinking about how she was going to direct their conversation in order to avoid raising his suspicions. Insofar, it was not going at all how she planned. Draco could read her like a book.
"Look, Granger, as much as I'd like to sit here and discuss me and my dead wife's marital problems, I don't think that's why you're here this morning," Malfoy assumed. "Tell me your actual intentions and maybe we'll get somewhere."
Hermione averted her gaze. "I am."
He leaned back in his chair and combed through his feathery blond hair with his fingers, trying to manage the bed-head he never intended for anyone to see. Still adorned in his silk robes from his long slumber, he almost felt underdressed in front of the woman that had once seen every inch of him.
"And you're sure there's nothing else you'd like to talk about?" he asked, distractedly, still fixing his mane.
Still unable to look at him, Hermione drank a bit of her tea. "I'm sure."
Draco nodded, acutely aware that she would leave if he pressed her any further. "Alright. Go on, then."
She sighed. "I-I feel like everything is getting worse and with the holidays coming up, I worry about the kids." She choked back tears. "I-I have a really bad feeling about them coming home, considering Ron's...state. I just—I just don't know how to talk to him about the drinking. How should I—how should I approach that?"
Alcoholism was not a subject that Malfoy was familiar with, and if he had not known better, he would have told Hermione that he didn't know how to help. Nevertheless, she was not being honest with him, and he could tell. She didn't want him to teach her how to talk to her drunk of a husband. She wanted to know that she wouldn't be alone if she ever found the courage to leave him.
"He's drinking more, then."
Hermione nodded, blinking back tears again. "More than the last time they saw him, yes. My schedule is so hectic with work and the holidays and I just don't know if they should be left alone with him while they're off school. Even in summer, I know he drove them absolutely mad, and that was when I was able to be home more often. The Ministry is easily twice as busy since then with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement arresting everyone and their owl." She took a deep breath. "I don't know how to protect them from him anymore."
Draco flared his nostrils and leaned forward, planting his elbows on the table. He laced his hands together and rested his chin atop them. "I've told you before that Scorpius spends holidays at my parents'. It's for him more than it is for them. I think the change makes him think about his mother less. Maybe in a few years, he'll spend it with me again, but for now, it's been the best arrangement. Have you considered something like that, even if it's just temporary?"
It was the best advice he could muster.
The notion of not seeing her Rose and Hugo during their holiday made Hermione feel sick to her stomach. "I haven't thought about it."
He nodded and finished his tea. "Well, if things are as bad as you say, perhaps it's time to."
She nodded, slowly, her heart aching as she thought about not spending those wonderful two weeks with her children. Mrs. Weasley would gladly take them, but there was a selfish part of her that did not want to ask. Instead of responding, she finished the rest of her tea. Too many thoughts were rushing through her head.
"Do you mind if I excuse myself for just a moment?" he asked, standing and fixing his robe. "I need to grab my wand to tidy the dishes."
Little did Hermione know, he already had his wand. He was merely too embarrassed to tell her that he wanted to change into more fitting attire.
She reached for her wand. "Oh, I don't mind—"
He shook his head. "Nonsense. You're a guest."
With that, he left the room and slipped through the sitting room towards the short hallway. Hermione used the opportunity to examine her surroundings from her seat at the polished, walnut table. His small home was cozy, with rocks, granite countertops, and unsoiled, dark hardwood flooring. The walls were adorned in French floral wallpaper that appeared to have seen better days, but it was clean. She admired the tiny cottage. It was much more modest than the ostentatious Malfoy Manor.
Her stomach churned as she waited for him. Part of her wished that she had never shown up on his doorstep. Every time that she saw him, she left feeling vulnerable and craving more time with him. It was not the type of interaction that would save her marriage, but maybe saving her marriage was not what she wanted to do anymore.
"Sorry about that," Draco apologized, emerging from the hallway. He was fully dressed in his usual all-black attire. He sat down and waved his wand, leaving the cups and their respective saucers clean and ready to be put away. The kitchen cupboard doors swung open and the dishes neatly stacked themselves inside.
"No, it's no problem," Hermione replied. She rubbed her forehead. "I'm sorry for showing up today. I didn't mean to—"
"Don't be sorry. There's a reason you're here and you may not want to talk about it, but we both know what that reason is," he chimed, airily. "You may as well just admit it."
Even though she tried to hide her emotions, Hermione knew that Draco could read her body language. She had never been able to keep her composure when she was being mendacious, especially not when it came to the handsome Malfoy. While all that she disclosed had been true, she was still lying by omission. The glint in his grey eyes told her that he knew it. Nevertheless, she could never admit to her constant comparisons between him and Ron. As soon as he knew the truth, there would be no going back.
Trying to pretend that he did not know what he meant, she said, "Yes, I suppose it's nice to have someone to talk to since Ron and I still aren't getting along. So thank you for that. I was—I was wrong to write you off." She quickly added, "As a friend, I mean."
He stared at her, waiting for more.
Sweating, she continued, "I mean, I have the children and work to worry about and he's been in the paper and he—well, he needs—"
Draco scoffed. "Frankly, I don't care what Weasley needs. The real question is: what do you need?"
Scarlet in the face, she stammered, "W-well, I n-need him. To do better."
He observed her. She was uncomfortable, shifting in her seat and wringing her hands in an awkward fashion. Eventually, she would tell him everything that she wanted to say, but he knew it would have to be on her terms. Unfortunately, his arrogance and impatience were oftentimes hard to conceal.
"I see," he finally managed, quickly pressing his lips before he said anything else.
She nodded, flicking a tear away from under her eye. "We don't even sleep in the same room, anymore. He stays on the couch and drinks until he passes out. I sleep in the bedroom—well, if I'm being honest, I don't exactly get much sleep. I can't imagine anyone would if they were in my position."
Draco clenched his jaw, swallowing his intrinsic haughtiness. "And how do you plan on sorting that out?"
Frazzled, Hermione ran her fingers through her hair, rubbing her temples with her palms. "I don't know, Draco. That's why I came to you for help. All I know is that I don't want to be so stressed out that he gives me a stroke and I die because he can't pronounce the healing spell!"
Draco drew in a deep breath, still struggling not to say what he wanted to tell her. "Granger, I really want you to think about this. Why are you telling me this instead of Potter or Weasley's sister?"
Hermione opened her mouth to answer, but she knew that he knew the real reason, no matter what she said. Instead of lying, she chewed on her thumbnail, her eyes fixed just to the left of him. She was conscious of his deep, perceptive stare.
The discomfited silence between them lasted a few moments before Draco cleared his throat. "Aren't you supposed to be at work right now?"
Her posture was suddenly stiff. "My assistant penciled this in."
"Understood," he muttered. "I suspect that's how you found this address—your connections with the Ministry?"
Still clearly uncomfortable, she replied, "Yes, all of that information is in the archives."
Draco nodded. She had met with him a few times, but never had she went out of her way to find him. He was always chasing after her. Yet that day, for the first time, she had come to him without an invitation. They had come so close to mutual sincerity. "Last time I saw you, you told me you'd prefer not to see me again. In fact, I think you said something similar the time before that as well. Interesting that you keep changing your mind."
Hermione laughed, cognizant of the fact that she had once again fallen victim to his observant nature. "I suppose that 'interesting' is a word for it."
"Indeed." His eyes could have bore a hole into her.
"I'm sorry, I'm not trying to be a bother," Hermione muttered, standing to retreat.
"Don't," Draco growled. "You're not a bother. Sit."
Hermione obeyed. "What is that look for then?"
"Me waiting for the truth."
"I've told you the truth."
"Hardly."
"Then what is the truth, Draco?" she challenged. Half of her wanted him to back down. The other half of her wanted so desperately for him to say the words so she did not have to. "Since you know so much."
"It's hardly my job to save Gryffindors from their own cowardice, but here we are, aren't we?" he hissed. "Fine then. You want me to say it for you? I will. The truth is, Granger, that you know that Weasley is an absolute idiot and you came here to see me because you haven't stopped comparing the two of us since you and I had lunch a few weeks ago. I think you ought to just be honest with yourself. It will save us both some time. Weasley too, if you think about it."
Inwardly, he cursed himself for saying anything. Even though she had pressed him, she wasn't ready to hear it out loud—not from him, anyway. Once upon a time, pointing out the obvious helped him get his way, but it was not quite so easy when it came to his unique situation with the Minister for Magic. She had always been stubborn, even when they were younger. Since she had gotten married, she had only grown to be more obstinate.
"This was a mistake," Hermione muttered, getting to her feet. She pushed in her chair, refusing to meet his eyes.
"This is no more a mistake than the last time or the time before that," Draco argued, also standing.
Hermione shook her head. "I think I'll be heading home now. Thank you for the tea."
Before he could respond, she had Apparated.
Rather than going back to the office, Hermione went home, just like she said she was. Mentally, she scolded herself for visiting Draco Malfoy again. Although she tried, she could lie to him less than she could lie to herself.
Each time that she saw him, it was out of pure selfishness. Even the lie that she told herself was selfish. She had no right to ask him about his relationship with his deceased wife. She had no right to keep entering his life, only to withdraw herself as quickly as she arrived. Yet, his grey, stormy eyes sparked the excitement that she hungered to feel again. Her stomach fluttered when his cool voice spoke her name, even if it was only her surname. The more time she spent with him, the worse the consequences would become. For her children, she needed to focus on bettering her marriage, and visiting Draco Malfoy would only do the opposite.
"Hey!" she shouted in an overly sweet voice, hoping to overcompensate for the guilt that she felt. She hung up her jacket and looked around the living room. "Ron?"
"In here!" he shouted back from the loo.
Hermione walked down the hallway, her shoes still on, and saw that Ron's pants were dropped. Unfortunately for her, he had left the door wide open. She made a face as the stench hit her nostrils.
"That's disgusting, Ron. Close the door!"
"Well, you're home early," he retorted, reaching forward for the door. His fingers were only centimeters too short. He had a bottle of firewhisky with him on the edge of the bathtub. After a quick drink, he looked up at her. "How'd work let you off so quick?"
Anxiously, Hermione cleared her throat. "Cornish pixie infestation. Some idiot on the second floor let them loose so we had to send in a team. I'll um—I'll let you get back to it." She closed the door for him and walked back into the living room.
As she plopped down onto the sofa, her heart beat rapidly. Looking her husband in the eye and lying was something she found herself doing more and more as of late. Sadly, Draco read her signals better than Ron did. Her husband accepted her answers in stride before continuing about his business, whether it was using the restroom, drinking, eating, or working on a new product. Draco, on the other hand, asked the uncomfortable questions. Bizarrely enough, Hermione preferred the discomfort.
Although she was desperate to stop comparing the two of them, she had done it again. Draco had seen the situation for what it was. He had been right when he claimed that she was comparing him to Ron. Guilt addled her entire being as she lay on her side and let her tears fall. Never did she mean to feel how she felt. Never did she mean to become the type of woman that visited a man behind her husband's back.
"Can you make some breakfast, dear?" he bellowed from the bathroom, the door still closed. "I'll be pretty hungry after my stomach's emptied all this out!"
She contorted her face in disgust and rolled off of the sofa. The ice box was nearly empty, but she found some bacon towards the bottom. With a heavy sigh, she put it on a plate and cast a heating charm. As the crispy meat stared back at her, she knew that her life had to change. If it didn't, she and Ron would not have much time left.
Author's Note: I know some of this may seem like repetition, but I promise it's been the best way to build the situation. Hermione is not the type to make rash decisions right away, so you will see her toe the line for a while.
Also, check out Wrackspurts, a side-story about Luna and Neville during Hermione and Draco's N.E.W.T. year. It is a one-shot that was put together for the March 2019 Writing Prompt in the HPFF Forums. Copy/paste this into your web browser: ?psid=339380&showRestricted