-Hera's POV-
The pantry was nearly empty, and the fridge was not much better. Hera used the last pieces of bread for toast, and the last bit of jam from the jar. She jotted items down on a slip of paper and stuck it to the fridge with a magnent knowing she would have to run to the market before lunch. It looked like rain so perhaps she should take a cab home so her paper bags didn't get wet.
Hera took her tea back to the bedroom. Her fluffy blankets and stack of books looked inviting but she needed to dress if she was going to shop. She hadn't yet selected anything from the closet when came a knock.
Who would be knocking at her door, especially first thing on a Sunday morning? She bit her lip, giving herself a quick glance in the mirror. Her hair was wild but at least these pajamas didn't have holes in them. Rather than pretend to not be home, she walked to the front door and tiptoed to look out the peephole.
Draco was standing there with his hands behind his back. How odd for him to drop by unnannounced, especially this early. Now she really wished she would've dressed sooner. She tried to smooth her hair down before she opening the door.
"Draco?"
"Good morning," he said.
Though he tried to be discreet, she noticed his eyes give her a quick glance up and down. She knew she was a mess, but it was early, and her day off no less. How was it he always looked so put together?
"What are you doing out and about at this hour?" Hera asked.
"I had an early engagment that got cancelled last minute."
"On a Sunday?"
"It was an informal appointment. Is this a bad time?"
"Well, no. It's just, I was about to go out for some groceries, that's all. Did you need something?"
He paused for a second.
"Yes."
"Oh," Hera said, surprised. "Well, what is it?"
"I need to know what you would like to do today."
"Well I.. like I said, I was just planning on going to the market, that's really-"
"No, I mean what would you really like to do today? If you could spend it doing anything, what would make you happy?"
Hera stopped to consider his odd, yet thoughtful question. What would make her happy? Automatically, she wondered what might have made her happy in the past. How would the girl she used to be spend a perfect Sunday? Wishing she could remember, even just a little, of who she was before, she was struck with a sudden inspiration.
"I would like to cook dinner at home and rent a video."
"That's it?" Draco said, raising an eyebrow.
Feeling suddenly self conscious about expressing her desire, she shrugged a shoulder in response.
"Then that's what we're doing."
"But-"
Hera tried to think of a reason to object, a reason more substantial and polite then pointing out how strange his abruptness was, but nothing at all came to mind.
"Well, alright," she said at last, "but I still must go to the store, my kitchen is bloody baron"
"Pardon?"
"I'm out of everything."
"Ah, right. I just misheard. Would it be an imposition if I accompany you? I'm out of a few necessities myself."
"Er, no, not at all."
"Then I'll drive. It's the least I can do after inviting myself along. Besides, it looks like rain."
"That would be fine. I just need to get ready. You can wait in the sitting room if you like."
"Perfect, but where can I put this?" Draco asked, holding out a small, white box.
He opened the lid to reveal a little round cake, frosted with fluffy vanilla cremé.
"What's this for?" Hera asked.
"When my engagement was cancelled, I went to the bakery to grab a scone for breakfast, but somehow left with this instead. Red velvet, couldn't resist."
He closed the box and handed it to her. Hera placed it on the table and offered him a seat before excusing herself.
When she returned a few minutes later, Draco was still sitting where she left him, but Pythagoras was now positioned directly across from him, still as a statue. They appeared to be having a stare-off.
"Perhaps I've insulted your cat by not offering him any cake?" Draco suggested.
Hera scooped up her pet.
"Pythagoras, you know it's bad manners to sit on the table."
The cat looked at her with reproachful eyes.
"So you've never had any pets?"
"Actually, I used to have a- a bird."
"A bird?"
"Yes, a bird. He liked to go out at night to explore, but he always returned, and usually with home small rodents much to the displeasure of my mother. He, however, was much more fond of me than your cat is."
Pythagoras looked at Draco from his new spot on the floor and showed no signs of disagreeing.
"Right, well, I'm all ready to go."
"First decide what you want to cook that way we're sure to get everything we need from the market."
"I don't know exactly what I want, but I've got a recipe book from the library we could refer to."
A stack of books sat on the end of the kitchen counter. She pulled out the one she was looking for and opened it, skimming pages.
"Do you prefer chicken or beef, or something else? There's loads to choose from. There's seafood, vegan, Asian cuisine.."
"I want you to choose. What do you like the best?"
"Well, I love Italian. Pizza, pastas.. Lasagna could be good, or maybe spaghetti? Ooh with meatballs!"
"You're not very difficult to please, are you?"
"Not overly, no."
Draco drove them to the market. He followed Hera as she read her list and crossed aisles, gathering all the basics. She tossed bread, milk, eggs, cheese, butter, jam, oatmeal, crisps, biscuits, fruit and cat food all into the trolley. She also gathered ingredients for dinner from a separate list she'd copied from the recipe book, plus a fresh baguette from the bakery.
They reached the last aisle, where things were kept frozen.
"What about that?" Draco asked, pointing to an array of ice cream. "You know, to compliment the cake."
"Hmm," she tapped her chin with her pen and refered to the paper in her hand, "that's not on the list."
Draco read it over her shoulder.
"I see," he said. "May I borrow your pencil?"
Hera gave it to him. He reached over and scrawled "ice cream" at the bottom of the list.
"There, now it is."
He smirked, and Hera couldn't resist grinning.
"Fine," she said, "but we're getting strawberry, it's my favorite."
She opened the door to retrieve it, but froze. It was her favorite. In fact, she knew with certainty that it had always been her favorite. A dim image flickered in her mind, of sitting next to a window in bright afternoon sunlight with a book in her lap and a bowl of melting strawberry icecream.
"Hera?" Draco called.
She realized she hadn't moved and must look bizzar, with her hand outstretched in midair.
"I was just wondering whether or not you liked strawberry," she recovered quickly.
"I do, in fact."
"Excellent," she said, grabbing it and tossing it in with the rest of her selections. "Shall we finish up then?"
"I think so."
"Wait, what was it you needed from here?"
"Oh," Draco paused, looking around, "I needed some flowers."
"Flour?"
"Flowers."
"Flowers?"
"Yes, flowers. Have you heard of them? Ugly little buggers that sprout up from the dirt."
He gestured toward the floral section ahead of them.
Hera rolled her eyes. "What sort of flowers?"
"I don't know, what kind do you reccomend?"
Hera laughed. "I'm not much of an expert. Though I did read a book once- "
"Of course you did," Draco interuppted, grinning.
"Fine, if you don't want my help."
"What I want is for you to tell me your favorite flower."
"Sunflowers." Hera said.
It came out so quickly she hadn't realized the thought had even entered her mind, yet just like with the ice cream, she knew with certainty it was genuine.
Another fleeting vision came to her, one of a field of yellow flowers stretching higher and farther than she could see. It had been the first time she'd ever seen them outside of a book.
In the excitement of the vision, she hadn't immediately noticed Draco had walked away. He had his back to her and was looking over an array of flowers.
"You won't find any sunflowers there. They're not a native flower and typically aren't grown in this-"
Before she could finish, Draco turned around with an arm full of sunflowers.
"Alright, this was all I needed," he said.
Surprised, Hera watched as he walked to the check out line. She followed him in a sort of daze, unable to think about anything other than the possibility that she was beginning to get her memory back.
Absent mindedly, she loaded her items onto the counter. She was so lost in thought she didn't hear the clerk read her the total, but was pulling money from her wallet anyway when Draco handed over the amount.
"Draco!" Hera said, snapping back into the moment. "I've got my own money!"
"That's nice," he said, tucking his wallet into his pocket.
"You can't just pay for my things."
"Actually I just did."
"But-"
"'Excuse me dear," a tiny old woman in line behind her said, "but when I was your age, if a dashing young man picked up the tab for me, I'd be flattered."
Draco beamed with smugness, visibly enjoying the fact Hera was outnumbered. The woman began unloading an alarming amount of canned pumpkin onto the counter.
"He's a keeper, honey."
"Seeker, actually," Draco said.
Hera raised an eyebrow.
"What? You've never heard that joke?"
"Oh and he's funny, too!" The woman batted her wrinkled eyelids.
"She thinks I'm dashing and funny," Draco teased as he carried the bags to the car.
"I think you've got a good chance with her," Hera said, sniffing the Sunflowers which was all he allowed her to carry.
"A bit young for me though, don't you think?"
"Maybe a smidge."
"Anyway, I'm rather hungry," Draco said, "seeing as I was too distracted by that cake to get breakfast."
"I'm a bit hungry, too" Hera said, recalling her pitiful toast from earlier. "It's still a bit early for lunch, but we could do brunch."
"Brunch?"
"Yes, the meal between breakfast and lunch."
"Ah, I suppose that makes sense."
"We'll have to take the groceries home first, so the ice cream doesn't melt."
"We could keep them at my place, till after we eat. It's closer."
Hera considered this. "I think that would be alright."
Draco changed direction and they were at his house in a minute.
"Would you like to come in?"
"Er, I could, yes."
Hera followed him to the door and inside.
She had given some thought to what Draco's home might look like. Honestly, it was much more modest than she'd expected, but impecibly neat. The furniture he owned did look rather old, but well kept and probably very expensive. Rare antiques, family heirlooms perhaps.
He went to the kitchen to store the cold items, and Hera took advantage by reading the titles of the dozen or so books on his shelf. Some were obscure and nothing she'd heard of. She made a mental reminder to look one up when she went back to work tomorrow. ""Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander
"I should've known you'd find the books."
She jumped slightly, retracting her hand. Draco stood in the doorway holding the sunflowers which he had put in an ornate vase.
"Typical librarian, all work," he said.
"I can't help myself."
"You have to take these," he said, nodding to the flowers.
"What? Why?"
"They clash with my walls."
"Your walls are white."
"Exactly."
"Well my walls are white as well."
"No, they're off-white. Completely different. You have to take them."
"Fine, I'll gather them up when we return for the groceries."
"Splendid. Now tell me, where do you suggest we find brunch," he emphasized the word with only a hint of mockery.
Hera felt heat creep up her cheeks. "Well, the Happy Pot was rather good, and I remember seeing a brunch special on the menu when we were there."
"That settles it then. Let's go."
-Draco's POV-
Granger seemed a bit distracted all through their meal, just as she had at the market. Draco couldn't tell if she was or wasn't enjoying her day so far. He suggested a walk around the duck pond afterward. As they strolled, he tried to keep the conversation going, but she again seemed lost in thought. She stared out her window on the ride back to his place.
"Are you feeling alright?" Draco asked at last.
"What? Sorry, yes, I feel fine actually. It's just, I've had some things on my mind today. I just remembered-"
She stopped, and Draco waited. What could she possibly have remembered?
"That we have to stop at the video store," she finished. "There's one near the pet store. Do you know where that is?"
"I do," he said.
Despite making it clear he indeed knew the way, she still directed as he drove. Happy she was engaging, he did not stop her. Once there, they searched for a movie. Draco had no idea how to select one, so he left it up to Granger. She wandered around, picking one up then putting it back again, and asking for Draco's input. She pursed her lips when he told her it was entirely up to her. Finally she decided on a comedy that was on display under the new features.
Upon arriving back home, a thought came to mind.
"What if I cook for you here?" Draco asked.
At first, Hera looked rather unsure at the idea, but surprised him when she nodded.
"That would be lovely, if you're sure you want to. I didn't know you liked to cook."
"It's just following recipes and combining ingredients. What's not to like?"
"Do you also have a video player for us to watch the movie on? I don't remember seeing a television even," she added.
She was right, Draco had no television or whatever a video player was, but he could obtain them easily enough.
"Yes, I do," he lied.
"Well then, I'll need to go home and check on Pythagoras if I'm going to be spending the evening here."
"I'll drive you," Draco offered, but she insisted on walking since the rain had passed.
She took the bag of cat food from the market, but left the rest of her groceries and the sunflowers behind for the time being, and assured Draco she would return in a couple hours.
He knew she was tense, but he wasn't sure exactly what was going on with her. He imagined some days were worse than others for her, in regards to her memory loss.
He had found some chapters in one of the books from his shelf with information on obliviation spells. There was a lot that could go wrong when casting a memory spell, and he wondered how bad Potter could have botched it up.
In some cases, the spell had been performed so forcefully that the memory loss was permanent and irreversible. Sometimes, negligent spell casting caused so much of the memory to be wiped that the person had to be taught basic human functions all over again. Luckily, that didn't seem to be the case with Granger.
The only ways for the curse to be lifted was for the original caster to lift it themselves, or if the caster died without putting a permanent sticking charm in place. One study reported rare cases in which a few determined wizards had broke through the spell on their own. It was suspected but unproven that they had defended themselves with Occlumency during the initial spell.
Draco tried to imagine what it would be like to not have his memories. Honestly, their were many he could stand to live without. In fact, some he would give anything to forget. Somehow though, he doubted Granger would feel the same. She never would have chosen this.
There was really no good way for this to end. If Granger remained like this forever, she would always be a shell of who she once was, lost and confused of how she came to be. If she regained her memories, the first thing she would probably do was kill Draco for his actions, and he could hardly blame her. The second thing she would probably do? Kill Potter for placing her in such a predicament in the first place.
Draco wasn't sure why he kept this going, or how long it could go on without something disasterous happening, but he wasn't sure how to even get out of it now. For selfish reasons, he wished deep down that it could stay like this. He liked Granger's company, something he never dreamed of admitting. He also liked not being entangled in the mess of the wizarding world, let alone the society he had been born into. This way of life felt normal in the most abnormal way.
With some time to kill before Granger returned, Draco began readying a space for their dinner and movie. She may not know it was her birthday, and she may not have asked for much, but Draco was still determined to make it special.
He was heating up the stove when she knocked on his door. She had changed her clothes and was now wearing a red cardigan with gold buttons, a coincidence which mildly amused Draco, and the same tight pair of denims he remembered from the movies. It had been impossible not to notice the way they clung to her shapely legs then, and it was impossible to not notice now. Still, he was rather partial to the wild mane and pajamas from this morning.
"Can I help you cook?"
"If you like," Draco said.
She pushed her sleeves up and took the pot to fill at the sink. Draco had cheated a bit, using magic to prep the meatballs before she arrived, but he had not been lying when he said he liked cooking. It reminded him of Potions, which was easily his best class at Hogwarts, and not just because of Snape's preference for the Slytherin students. Something about the methodic process of brewing potions, like cooking, was soothing and purposeful to Draco, and he still regularly concocted necessary ones for himself here in his muggle kitchen.
He made the sauce while she stirred the pasta. He didn't feel the same competitiveness that was between them in class, when they were both striving to be the best. In fact, they worked rather well alongside each other.
He remembered having different partners in Potions and how much he loathed pairing up. They were always in his way or behind in the steps. Granger however made it feel effortless despite still clearly being a perfectionist and fanatical about following the directions. She gave him a look of utter disbelief when he'd suggested adding salt to the pasta water when the recipe didn't call for it.
Between the two of them, dinner was ready in no time, and it smelled delicious.
Draco carried the food to the dining room where he had set the table for two. A candelabra sat in the middle of the table. He looked at the unlit candles and instabtly the flames popped to life.
"How did you do that?" Granger asked.
Draco froze. What the bloody hell had he been thinking.
"Just an old parlor trick," he said, hoping that would satisfy. Knowing Granger, it would not.
"Oh. Well maybe you'll teach me," she said casually.
He met her eyes, and where he expected to see suspicion, he read something else; enticement.
A warm, excited sort of feeling swept over him. It would be embarrasing to admit how much he liked that he had impressed her.
Pulling out her chair, Draco sat her down and filled her plate with spaghetti. He had several bottles of elf-made wine on reserve and selected one before she had arrived. He offered it to her, unsure of her drink preferences, but she nodded so he filled her glass. She thanked him and waited till he was seated to begin eating.
"This is really nice," she said.
"It is," Draco agreed.
He had never realized how much he missed company. Since about the summer before his sixth year, he had been isolating himself from his friends. He had also began distancing himself from Pansy, the only serious girlfriend he'd ever had. Her company however, was nothing like Granger's. It was smothering, and needy, whereas Granger's presence seemed to fill up something he hadn't realized was so empty.
"I have a little confession to make," she said abruptly.
Draco's chewing ceased, and he waited for her to continue. Was this it?
"When you asked what I wanted to do, if I could do anything, I drew a blank. I know I said I wanted to cook and rent movie, which I did want to do, but honestly the only thing I could think of, all I actually wanted was to spend the day with a friend."
"That's what you wanted, if you could spend your day doing anything?"
"Yes."
"I see, and is that what you got?"
"Yes, even more than that actually. I'm happy my day was spent with you."
"So am I," he said.
She smiled and went back to her food.
"So," she said, plunging her fork into a meatball, "do you know any other tricks?"
"A few," Draco said.
"I had a feeling you did."
Her smile was sly and contagious. She looked devilishly good in the candlelight.
He had doubted before what Granger's reasoning for giving him her time was, but he could feel it now, something tangible in the air. The same something he had been in denial about himself. Attraction, and a mutual on at that.
It took a lot of self control to not stare at her, but whenever he did glance, she seemed to be looking back at him. It made him hot around the neck, giving him the urge to strip off his shirt for relief, and hers, too. He suppressed the thought.
They finished eating, and Draco took her to the the living room where he had arranged the television and video player that he'd conjured up while she was gone.
"I think I'm too full for cake just yet," she said.
"As am I," he agreed.
'I did bring something from home, however," she said, reaching into her bag.
She pulled out a red and white striped box, the Berti Botts he'd given her.
"Oh no," he said.
"Oh yes."
"I better get something to wash them down with then. One of us is bound to get a bogey flavor."
"I hope it's you," she said.
In the kitchen a memory popped into Draco's mind, one of sitting at the Three Broomsticks. Granger had been sitting by herself at a table across from him. She was lost in a book, oblivious to the hustle and bustle around her. Two empty mugs sat before her. A third was in her hand. She sipped from it, leaving a bit of foam on her upper lip that she carelessly licked away.
He fixed up two Butterbeers and returned to the living room.
"I think you'll like this," he said, passing her a mug.
She looked at it and him curiously.
"What is it?"
"Delicious."
"Oh, well that explains it. Cheers then."
She took a sip, a bit of foam clinging to her upper lip.
"Mmmmmm."
"You like it then," Draco said, taking a sip from his own.
"I've had this before!"
Draco struggled to not spit out his drink, or look horrified. He did sputter a bit though, and used his fingers to wipe the corner of his mouth.
'Have you?"
She looked almost as shocked at the revelation as he was, though she quickly tried to hide it.
"Mmhmm," was all she said, taking another quick sip.
Paranoia crept in and Draco wondered if she had been remembering other things as well. It would be hard to tell with her not admitting to having memory loss in the first place.
"Should we start the movie?" she said, changing the subject.
"Good idea," he said.
He was happy she volunteered to ready it, as he had no idea how. The screen came to life and she sat back down, slipping her shoes off. Draco was never not surprised when she appeared comfortable around him. He noticed her eyes flicker over to the dark fire place.
"Are you chilled?"
"Not really, this drink warmed me up quite but a bit. I do love a fire though."
Draco got up and walked over to the fireplace. He had never lit it manually before. Hoping she was ready for her next parlor trick, he made sure to keep his wand concealed when he cast.
Flames shot up from the logs which began crackling and popping.
"Impressive," Granger said, "do you plan on teaching me that one, too?
"Perhaps," Draco said teasingly. "Are you a good student?"
"I believe so."
He resumed his spot on the sofa next to her. She tore open the top of the Berti Botts.
"After you," she said, shaking them at him.
"Ladies first."
She looked as if she may argue, so for good measure, he added "if you're brave enough."
That did it. She shook a few into her hand and examined them, finally selecting a pale yellow one. She glanced at him, so he nodded in encouragement. She popped it into her mouth.
"Hmm, popcorn. Different, but not disgusting. Your turn."
Draco, who had some experience with the beans, selected a red one from her palm, knowing it could go one of many ways and the odds weren't necessarily in his favor.
"If you're brave enough," she mimicked unnecessarily.
Draco put it in his mouth.
"Cinnamon," he smirked. "One of my favorites."
"How lucky," she said, shaking more into her palm. "Together then?"
She held her hand out to him. He picked another red one, hoping for the best but expecting the worst. She, like a true amateur, selected a white one, probably assuming it to be something safe like marshmallow, but Draco new better.
They ate them at the same time. Her chewing slowed, and she wrinkled her nose, swallowing hard. Draco tried to keep his expression composed but he had definitely not picked cherry. A metallic flavor coated his tongue.
"Soap," she said, shaking her head a bit. "What was yours?"
"Cherry," he bluffed.
"You liar, I saw your eye twitch."
"Prove it," he said.
They hardly paid attention to the movie, instead laughing and choosing beans for the other to try. She nearly fell off the sofa laughing when he sputtered and coughed on a pepper flavored one. They had a second then third Butterbeer.
She had her legs curled up beneath her on the couch, reminding Draco of a cat, though one far more attractive than that orange thing back at her place.
He noticed she had a habit of singling out a lone curl when she was concentrating on something, repeatedly pulling it taught then letting go allowing it to spring back into place.
The fire light illuminated her profile, silhouetting her against the flames. He glanced over at her more than he should. It was strange, seeing her curled up on his sofa that had once belonged to his grandparents on his father's side. It was an image he couldn't have conjured up in his wildest dreams even a month ago. He tried not to think about what his grandfather would say if he could see what Draco was seeing.
Though he tried, it wasn't possible to completely ignore the thought gnawing at the back of his mind. She shouldn't be here. Not just here, in this muggle town where she didn't belong, but here with him, just as he shouldn't be here with her. Hera might be here with him voluntarily, but Hermione Granger was not.
It felt wrong. He knew he didn't deserve it, to enjoy her company, but his discipline had all but disappeared and after years of loneliness and fear, he desperately wanted to indulge in this feeling of comfort and just lose himself within it for a while. There was no denying how much happier he felt when she was around.
He had not realized he'd been staring until she met his eyes.
"It's over," she said.
"What?"
"The movie."
He looked at the screen, which had went black. Rows of names and paragraphs cascaded down it.
"Well what did you think?" Draco asked.
"Funny, though I think that pair would have been better off staying friends. They had nothing in common, romantically. She would have been better off with that neighbor she was always quarreling with. At least they could match wits."
"Agreed," Draco said, realizing he couldn't recall any details of the film what so ever.
She stretched out her arms and sat up a little straighter. One by one she slipped on each shoe.
"I should probably be getting home before it's late, seeing as I've got work in the morning."
"Of course. Though you must have a slice of cake first."
"I nearly forgot. Just a small one though, and I might pass on the icecream for another time, I'm already quite sugared up."
"Not a bad idea. Be right back then."
Draco returned with a plate in each hand.
She thanked him as he passed her one. Ignoring her fork at first, she plunged a finger into the frosting, then into her mouth.
"Oh that's good," she said.
"I'm happy you like it," he said, and took a bite of his own.
It was rather good, he had to admit. Not bad for his first go at baking. Now he almost resented giving all the credit to the bakery.
"Have you enjoyed the day?" Draco asked.
"Mmhmm, it's been a great day."
"Good."
With the television screen now off, the fireplace was the only light source in the room. It shined off the necklace resting between her collarbones, it glinted off her fork as she pulled it clean from between her lips, it reflected in her eyes when she looked at him.
"You've got frosting on you," she said.
She reached over with her thumb, wiped it off the corner of his mouth, and licked her finger clean.
Draco felt for a moment like he wouldn't be able to move if he tried. Then she laughed.
"Hang on, I still didn't get it all," she said, putting her plate down on the table.
Her hand approached a second time and lightly brushed the corner of his mouth, but this time he caught her by the wrist before she could pull away.
His actions felt dreamlike, it was subcouncious and not planned out. He slid his hand up over hers, carefully isolating one finger. He brought it to his lips and gently kissed it's soft pad.
Automatically, he looked back up to meet her eyes. They were wide with surprise, but she did not pull away. He moved on to the next finger, then another, and on to the last. He was almost unaware of pulling her closer and didn't realize he was holding his own breath until he felt hers. He let his eyes close as the tip of his nose brushed her cheek, guiding him in the right direction.
It was she who closed whatever fraction of distance remained, yet it was Draco who latched on, feeling all sense of reality fade away yet at the same time feeling invigoratingly alive as her soft lips slid against his. She tasted like sugar with a hint of honey. He felt her free hand on his neck, her thumb tracing over the curve of his Adam's apple. He felt her weight shift as she moved closer to him. He felt a tingling sensation that started at the base of his spine and launched all the way up to his ears. Then he felt her pull away.
He opened his eyes. She was still close to him. Her eyes transfixed on his mouth. Half of him wanted to wrap his hand in her hair and feel her again, the other half wanted to retreat somewhere alone, far far away. He compromised by not moving at all.
Luckily, she acted first.
"Thank you for the cake," she said quietly, as if she didn't want someone else to hear.
"Thank you," he said, having no idea what the words meant.
She stood up and walked into the kitchen. It took a moment before he was able to follow her.
She had gathered her groceries from the fridge.
"Don't forget the flowers," he said.
She smiled, and picked them up off the table.
"I'll return the vase," she said.
"It's yours."
The drive to her house was almost more silent than the return trip to his own.
He had carried her things to the door, and she had thanked him for the day, piece by piece, before disappearing inside.
Once he was home again, Draco sat in the parked vehicle for a long time before finally going back in. The house felt different somehow. He felt different somehow. Buzzing, there was only one thing that felt right to do.
He walked into the bath and ran some shower water, stripping off his clothes as steam filled the room.
He had no idea how long he was in there, but the water had gone completely cold. He was certain only of one thing by time he got out, that of all the the things he had ever said or done to Granger in all his years of knowing her, this was absolutely without a doubt the cruelest.
A/N - Hey readers! Hope you enjoyed this chapter. This was a rather lengthy for me, and I don't do very well with deadlines but I set one for myself and I made! With that being said, apologies for any minor errors I overlooked. Most importantly, I'd like to wish our starlet, Hermione Granger, a very happy birthday today and in this chapter. Sometimes things line up nicely. Thanks for reading, more to come!
