Destiny
Disclaimer: I own nothing from the Harry Potter series.
A/N: Special shout outs to my reviewers whom I love very, very much and all my favoritists and alertists! A lot of you are probably wondering why on earth I put in Mrs. Granger's love story. Well, I have my reasons. Truth is, my fingers just got the best of me, and suddenly it just turned into a wonderful reason for Hermione to bond with her mother. We get a look into who Mr. Granger was, the kind of home Hermione was raised in, how Hermione is so much like her mother and yet so different.
And I'm sure some of you are enjoying the fact that Hermione is opening up more to Draco and Draco is becoming less reserved, taking his chances. I'm sure we all know how frazzled Hermione is by this new change—who expects Draco Malfoy to start flirting with them? But hey, we're getting somewhere, right? On that note, this chapter will probably be one of my longer ones, but don't fret because everything in this chapter is important and I have no doubt that you will appreciate this chapter very much. This is a turning point chapter so—
Enjoy!
-Annie
Pensive Thoughts
The birth of July hung over my head like a peaceful willow tree in a tranquil, warm breeze. It was a surprisingly windy summer day, the sun playing hide and seek with the thick cotton swabs dotted across the pale blue sky. I was lounging outside, letting the invisible wind toy with my honey tresses as I lay in a pillow of soft jade. The pages of my book breezed easily back and forth against my fingers, urging me to turn the pages so I could finish the remainder of the novel I'd been ingesting all day long.
"Jazz, slow down. I can't run as fast as you!" little Haden whined as Jasper zipped behind blossoming apple trees and darted away from his brother.
"Oh, come on, Haystack!" Jasper laughed, sounding joyfully winded.
"Show him who's boss, Haden!" I encouraged and the little boy, determined to make his mother proud, sped after his brother with newfound determination and speed.
Haden tackled Jasper to the ground and Jasper sunk to the grass in surprise. The wind carried their laughter like chiming church bells.
"Blah!"
At the sudden exclamation, I jumped up from where I was peacefully lying and turned around, my fingers lightly brushing against my colorful posies. Pamela, who had previously been enjoying some privacy inside her guest house, emerged briskly, a pretty pout plastered to her young face.
"What?" I wondered as she sunk into a lawn chair on the back patio and slumped, her elbows connecting with her knees and her fists meeting her cheeks.
"It's just one of those days," she sighed.
I waited, but she did not continue.
"One of those days," I repeated and she looked up at me with her mossy eyes.
"Yes. One of those days that single women get when they wake up and realize that they've been single for over a year and it's time to change," Pamela offered and then it made sense.
"Ah," I said, patting her on the knee. "Why don't you go on a date?"
"Don't know any men who'd take me out," Pamela said, shrugging. "I used to date, but then the guy I was datin' cheated on me for some hooker-want-to-be. Since then, I haven't really gotten out."
"Well, you should," I pressed. "You've had your time to be single. Now it is time to get back out there and show the male world what you are made of."
"Right," Pamela sighed. "Is it weird that I don't necessarily want to go out there and date random men?"
"Well, no, but I'm not sure what you are wanting," I told her truthfully. "You don't want to be single anymore, but you don't want to go hunting for men, either? Do you expect a man to just drop out of the sky and into your arms, professing his unyielding love for you?"
This made Pamela laugh and she nudged me.
"Of course not," she replied, smiling. "I just want somethin' serious. I want to find a decent man who respects me and will stay true, a real love, like what you and Draco have. One where I can just be myself and know that he'll never want to leave me."
I swallowed dryly.
"So, you're not interested in just dating, you want to have a serious relationship and possibly settle down, that's what you're saying," I guessed and she nodded.
"Exactly," Pamela agreed. "I think it's about time, don't you? I'm almost twenty-three now."
"You're still pretty young," I answered and she threw me an incredulous look.
"Don't you dare think you can get away with preaching about getting' married young," she told me. "You got married young."
"Okay, okay," I conceded. "I think you're ready, yes, but it's up to if you find the right man. It's something you can't just rush into; you have to really consider what you want in a mate."
"I just finally feel like I'm in that place in my life where I'm ready to settle down and be with someone."
"He'll come around eventually," I assured her as I stood up and brushed the dirt from the knees of my jeans. "Love is funny like that—it hits you when you least expect it."
"Gah," she sighed again. "I really hate not having a man in my life."
Jasper suddenly gasped.
"Pammy!" he said dramatically, racing over to her and taking her hands. "How could you say that?"
"Yeah!" Haden agreed, climbing into her lap. "We're men! Don't we count?"
I laughed loudly at this.
"We love you, Pammy," Haden confessed.
"We'll never leave you," Jasper vowed and at the same moment, both little boys leaned in and kissed Pamela flush on both cheeks, long enough for her to go beet scarlet.
"Aw, how cute," I teased her. "See? The future is bright. Two confessions of love in one day!"
Pamela made a face at me and then eased the boys off of her.
"Come play tag with us, Pam!" Jasper insisted.
"I don't know—" Pam started, but Haden lightly shoved her.
"Tag!" he cried, tearing down the lawn, Jasper following in his wake. "You're it!"
"Oh, Lord, give me strength," Pamela gave in, shaking her head of glossy red curls and taking after the boys, hollering, "I'm gonna getcha!"
I took this moment to slip inside and saunter up the staircase. It was a lazy Sunday and I felt very at ease, but I still needed something to do. I decided to lay my novel aside for this evening so that I'd have something to curl up in bed with later, and set off to look for something productive to do. I ended up cleaning up the boys' room, stopping every now and again to look at different toys or baubles that belonged to the heirs of the Malfoy throne.
Closing their door behind me, I traipsed through the hallway toward my room, passing by Draco's study. His door was slightly ajar and from what I could tell, he was inside his study, on the phone with somebody, it sounded. It struck me as odd that Draco Malfoy would be using a telephone.
"Yeah, I can be there in a few minutes," he was saying into the receiver. "No, it's no problem. Astoria, honestly, don't worry about it. Look, who else is going to fix the bloody cauldron for free? Even if Blaise wasn't off in Germany right now, he'd be no better at fixing it than you. The cauldron shops are just going to pay you up the wall because they sit around with their wands shoved up their arses all day."
I furrowed my brow, straining to hear more. Who was Astoria?
"Stori, I'm done arguing with you about this. I'm coming over and I'm fixing that cauldron. While I'm at it, I can even make a sleeping draught for Sebastian. Blaise has been telling me how much Sebastian hasn't been sleeping lately," Draco continued, sounding entirely at ease with the woman on the phone. "Astoria, honestly, it's a sleeping draught—fine, then I'll show you how to make the blasted sleeping draught. You realize I got O's in all my Potions classes? No, it was not because Snape favored me! I'm hanging up now, Stori. I'll be over in five minutes. Yeah, I know—goodbye, Astoria."
At the sound of his footsteps, I hurried away and flattened myself against the wall of my room, out of his reach, breathing heavily at almost being caught eavesdropping. I was incredibly curious. Who was this Astoria woman? And why did I feel upset—was that what I was feeling?—at the ease of her conversation with Draco?
Frustrated by my horrid curiosity, I kicked myself off the wall just as my door flew open. I screamed, flying backward into the dresser.
"Draco!" I shouted accusingly as he came in.
His hand flew to his heart and his quicksilver eyes widened.
"Hermione!" he exclaimed. "Merlin, I didn't—I'm sorry—I thought you were downstairs with the boys—I can come back—"
I gaped at him. I'd never seen Draco Malfoy stutter or give any hint to being surprised. I had to literally shake my head to get my brain moving again because he shocked me so much.
"It's fine," I said to him. "You just surprised me, is all."
"I just needed to get some clothes," Draco told me, jutting his thumb toward the dresser. "You don't mind, do you?"
"Of course not," I replied, stepping out of his way so that he could open the dresser drawer. "It's your room, too, after all."
Then why do you keep him barred out of it? asked the annoying voice in the back of my head.
Shut up, I silently snapped at the rational side of my brain, it's not like I'm locking him out. He's free to come in whenever he pleases.
Right. And I suppose you're going to say he's not a prisoner in that small little guest room with that creaky uncomfortable bed, either, right?
Will you shut up? I pleaded silently.
I will when you stop being an idiot.
My inner battle was suddenly caught off short when my eyes zoomed in toward Draco and what he was removing from the dresser. I gulped, wishing I hadn't noticed, feeling the fire creeping through my bones and up to my flesh.
Oh, look at that, the irritating voice in my head sparked up again, he's getting underwear. You noticed his underwear! And now you're thinking about his underwear. And you're thinking about him in his underwear. You're picturing him with his sculpted chest in only his underwear as he throws you against the wall and—
"Oh my God!" I blurted, my hand ripping through my curly tresses in my haste to block out that heinous voice.
Draco whipped around in alarm, several articles of clothing jumping like jitterbugs out of his grip and landing close to my feet.
"What?" he asked, eyes wide.
"Uh—n-nothing," I replied hastily and bent down, out of reflex, to pick up the discarded clothing. I noticed only too late that the offending garments were his boxers. Feeling myself erupt in an explosion of molten hot lava, I practically threw his undergarments in his face to be rid of them. "S-Sorry! I—I—um—sorry."
He smirked, removing the clothing from his head and shutting the dresser drawer in such a graceful fashion that it made my face burn even hotter.
"What do you have to be sorry for, honey?" he asked innocently, but his eyes glimmered in amusement. He was enjoying teasing me.
"I—you—um—I just am."
"It's not like you've never touched my underwear before, Hermione," he blatantly stated.
I gasped and the voice in my head seemed to snicker in delight. See? it said, mocking me. He certainly has ravished you before—now you know for certain!
The thought sent me into a complete tailspin.
"Will you stop?" I growled, not realizing I'd spoken aloud.
Draco, obviously thinking I was speaking to him, smirked and stepped closer to me. His scent—spearmint and expensive cologne—enveloped and ensnared my senses, making it hard to concentrate, hard to function. I was dazed and dizzy. I felt inclined to take him into my arms and breathe him in, but then I realized what was happening and swallowed. He was too close. Why was he so close?
"Why?" he breathed, his face mere inches away from mine, his breath cool on my overheated skin. "Am I making you nervous?"
"N-No," I managed, shoving him slightly, my fingers unintentionally brushing against the panels of his toned chest.
It certainly didn't help that he was wearing a thin white V-neck shirt which outlined every muscle of his upper torso. Seriously, when did it get so hot in here?
"Are you lying to me?" he questioned, his voice low and teasing.
"P-Possibly," I replied, trying to steel myself.
What was this reaction? What was happening to me?
"Hm," he said lightly, capturing a stray curl and twirling it around his long, pale finger. "Interesting."
I found it very difficult to breathe, my chest heaving up and down. My fingers pressed against his chest again, trying and failing to remove him from my presence.
"Don't you have to be somewhere?" I choked out.
"I knew it was you spying on me," he said and I mentally kicked myself.
"I wasn't spying—I was walking to the room and heard you. That doesn't entail spying," I corrected. "So, you should—should go."
"I can stay if you'd like," he whispered in my ear, daringly close.
I gasped as his cool breath tickled the hollow of my throat, his skin never touching me, but the threat of his proximity undeniably there. My heart kick-started.
"Go away," I said pitifully, my voice squeaking in my furtive attempt to remove him from me.
With one final smirk, he—at last—drew away from me, letting the curl trapped around his finger bounce carefully back into place. His sudden physical absence was an incredible feeling, a power that threatened to send me careening forward. My eyes followed as he headed to the doorway, his garments in hand.
"I'll see you later," he told me, his words low and deep.
When he lingered in the door frame a second too long, I had half the mind to tell him to "shoo!", but he just winked at me, as if expecting this reaction and loving every moment of it, and shut the door behind him, leaving me seething and tomato-faced.
"What the hell?" I expressed once I'd semi gathered my bearings, plopping down on the mattress.
I breathed deeply for several minutes, unable to calm my racing heart, which for some irrational reason was swinging in high tempo. When finally my heart had settled to its reasonable pace, I rose from the fluffy white duvet and threw open the door. With my thoughts jumbled, my feet led the way without my direction, and I ended up outside Draco's study.
"Fitting," I muttered darkly and turned the handle, letting the door creak open.
I walked about the office, wondering why on earth my stupid feet had led me to the sanctuary of the utterly psychotic man I was living with. He had to be some kind of madman, to make my body react the way it did inside the bedroom and make my thoughts go all a tizzy.
"Really, does he ever clean?" I complained at the piles of paperwork and files. "How disorganized. How can he even concentrate in this pigsty?"
As if irked at me for demeaning his office, one of Draco's files slipped off his desk and crashed onto my foot, causing me to pummel backward into a shelf. The shelf moaned at my abuse and I turned to face the piece of furniture, only then recognizing the familiar bowl sitting atop the shelf.
"A pensive," I observed, taking the bowl from its station and placing it on his desk.
What are you waiting for? barked the voice inside my head. Go ahead and take a peek. You know you want to.
It's not right, I argued, it's his private pensive.
You're his wife, you mushroom, the voice egged. Take a peek. It won't kill you. It's not like he keeps things from you anyway, since you are his wife.
Well, I debated, I suppose one glimpse wouldn't hurt.
There's a good girl, said the satisfied voice of my curiosity. Come on, lean over. Just one look. You deserve to see it. You lost your memory. It could help, right?
"Right," I agreed, plunging my head into the smoky blue abyss.
I was suddenly plopped onto the ledge of a stone bridge. It was nighttime and the air smelled of pine and dirt. It wasn't cold outside, but a lonely, timid wind sighed through the inky sky, whispering secrets to the low fog that clung to the murky water below. The streetlamps were dim and faded, smoky against the hazy night. Up ahead a figure hung over the bridge's stone barrier, dangling his arms over the calm water, staring pensively into the water with his blond head bowed. His hair was long, the perfect color of an angel's wing, and waved down to his chin, dancing with the evening wind.
I recognized him immediately, but I wondered where he was and why he was staring blankly into the dark depths below him.
"I tried for so long to make you proud," he spoke suddenly and his words were exaggerated and slow.
I walked forward slightly and even from my somewhat far off proximity, I could smell the pungent stink of alcohol.
Up close, the young Draco Malfoy looked like he'd been run over by a large truck. His eyes were hollow and deep purple circles hung below his empty clay colored eyes. His lips were chapped and drooped downward, his face ashen, his skin lying loosely on his burrowed bones. He looked haunted and frightening.
In his right hand swung a bottle of pure, undulated Blishen's Premium Firewhisky—the kind of high quality and high alcohol content, the one that Ron could never afford— three fourths of the way empty. It swayed almost as dangerously as he did as he hoisted himself up onto the bridge wall so that he was clinging to the rods that suspended the bridge. Hermione shot forward to grab him, but her hand whispered right through him.
"I tried to make you see me," he slurred, rocking on the soles of his feet. "I wanted nothing more…than for you to see me. For me!"
Suddenly, his hollow eyes turned black with rage and he flung the bottle forward so that it leapt into the night air and tumbled to its death into the darkness below, swallowed up by the rushing river.
"But you never cared about wh-what I wanted," Draco continued forcefully, his voice grating. "It was always Voldemort. Good bloody r-riddance, I say. The only thing you taught me was how to be scared and cruel."
I felt heartbroken and shocked to the very core by this scene. And so, so very confused. Who was he speaking to?
"And n-now the Dark bloody Lord is gone and you—you are too. You just couldn't l-live without him, could you, you bastard?" Draco snarled, teetering dangerously on the ledge.
A gushing, hollow wind swept through the moors and brushed against his trembling body, urging him forward.
"Serves you right, you—you—" Draco shouted and there was so much pain and anger in his drunken voice that it slapped my heart.
In the distance, a figure emerged from the mist, taller than Draco by a few inches. I recognized him immediately as Blaise Zabini, one of Draco's friends from school. He was handsome and clean cut with chiseled Italian features and dark mocha skin. When he saw Draco rocking back and forth on the ledge, Blaise lurched forward. And just in time. Draco inched forward ever so slightly, not realizing it in his stupor, and Blaise snatched his robes before he could tumble to his broken death like his alcohol bottle.
"Draco! What the hell are you doing? Your mum's been worried sick about you! It's four in the damn morning!" Blaise shouted, shaking his friend.
"Get off me, you arse," Draco growled, shoving his friend.
"Are you drunk?" Blaise countered, grabbing him by the collar of his robes fiercely. "You are barking mad? What the hell do you think you are doing out here by yourself in the middle of the night, on a bloody bridge? Do you know why this bridge was put up in the first place? Look at that river. Look at how close you had been to—"
"What's it to you?" Draco snapped. "Why are you here?"
"God, you stink." Blaise cringed and his hand fastened to Draco harder. "When was the last time you showered? Are you drunk?"
Draco refused to respond, muttering angrily at the Italian.
"Draco, you're my best mate," Blaise pressed. "Look, your mum told me what happened. She asked me to look for you. She told me that you'd run off earlier in the afternoon and hadn't been back since. That you found out your father…"
"Is dead?" Draco spat, laughing. "Yeah, what a welcome home present."
He giggled highly and began to mimic a woman's voice that I'd assumed was his mother's by the way he spoke.
"'Welcome back, Draco, glad you passed your N.E. . Happy birthday, dear! Your probation's been lifted and you can legally use magic again. Oh, and you know how I held that funeral over Easter despite the fact you thought your father was still alive and you thought I'd just given up on finding him? Well, turns out he really is dead, now and I've known for weeks but I decided to keep it from you until the night you returned.'"
Blaise blinked and then frowned hard. "Your mother explained the situation to me, Draco. She didn't want to tell you on your birthday when she received the news. She wanted you to focus on your exams. She did the right thing."
"Shut up about it," Draco snarled, his voice gurgling slightly.
"Listen, you're scaring the shit out of everyone, especially your mum. This has got to stop, now. You realize you could've killed yourself?"
Draco snorted.
"Yeah, wouldn't that have been a treat. It's not like anybody would have missed me anyway," he said and Blaise shoved him, suddenly very angry, down to the cobblestone of the bridge.
I gasped as Draco crashed into the stone floor with a grunt.
"Don't you dare joke about that, you miserable sod!" Blaise shouted.
"Sorry," mumbled Draco, but he hardly looked apologetic. "Forgot."
"Oh, yeah, typical Draco," Blaise ground out. "Prancing about all high and mighty, forgetting everyone else's problems because his are always so much more important. You're a spoiled little brat, Draco Malfoy, and sometimes I really hate you. My father took his own life when I was five. I watched him do it. But I guess that small little detail just escaped your bloated egotistical mind when you decided to dance around on a bridge like a bludgeoning idiot."
I felt my heart pumping hard in my chest. Shallowly, I realized I'd misjudged Blaise long ago, as I had with Draco. They had families, lives, expectations, just as she did.
"Shut up," Draco hissed. "Your dad's been dead for years. Mine was taken from our own bloody home almost three months ago today, by people he trusted. Turns out they succeeded in offing him, too."
"Well, hate to break it to you, Draco, but that's usually what happens when angry Death Eaters want to blame people for the death of their master," Blaise stated bluntly. "Not to mention your family was the only family to be pardoned and Lucius had a lot of enemies. Few people were happy with the Minister's decision, as you remember. At least the Ministry caught who killed your dad and locked them away. Otherwise, you and your mum could be rotting away in some ditch somewhere, like him."
Blaise paused and then said, "Your dad wouldn't want you acting like this."
It was like a light came on inside Draco and he flew toward Blaise.
"You don't have a clue what my dad would want from me!" Draco hollered, shoving his friend roughly. "He would want me to be like he was. He always wanted me to be just like him. Well, now I am!"
Blaise grabbed Draco roughly as he stumbled and threw him into the rods suspending the bridge.
"You are not your father," Blaise told him slowly and forcefully, looking him straight in the face, both of them panting. "You are Draco Malfoy and you are your own bloody person. You have a whole life ahead of you and a whole future set for grabs. Your father ruined his reputation and good standing so that you could have a shot of being more than him. Don't throw that away just because of your father's mistakes. He loved you more than you could know and all he wanted was for you to be strong and upstanding, something that he could never be. It's why he pushed you so hard. All he did was so that he could keep you and your mother safe. Maybe he wished he could be more like you, have you ever thought about that?"
"No," Draco said numbly.
A nervous knot wrapped around my intestines when I realized I'd seen that look on myself just a short time ago when I, too, had discovered my father was dead. But to the Draco in the pensive, he was still so young—as I had been before I had been thrust into the body of a woman in her thirties— and he had no children, no wife, no reason to push forward through the darkness as I had when I found out. In some ways, I was grateful for the strong support system I had and the motivation to keep living.
Suddenly, Draco burst into tears.
My world seemed to capsize as Blaise grabbed Draco and pulled him into a crushing embrace, holding him there as he sobbed, his chest wracking and wheezing. He cried until there was nothing left and I stared in horror at the display. I'd never witnessed Draco show so much emotion before I'd been summoned eleven years into the future, and this was just too much for me to grasp.
"You need to shape up, Draco," Blaise sighed after a long silence, still hanging onto his drunk and depressed friend. "You need to be strong for your mother. You need to be a better man for you father. And you need to be honest with yourself."
"I don't know how to live anymore, Blaise," Draco admitted brokenly and pulled something out of his pocket. "We didn't want to believe it for so long…that we would find him one day…"
He held the long scroll of parchment up to Blaise, like a question in the wind. The handsome Italian stole it from Draco's grasp, letting the black ribbon that secured its pages together to flutter to the cobblestone. Unrolling the rather long scroll, Blaise began to skim the elegant and slanted writing on the parchment.
"What is this?" Blaise murmured.
"My father's last will and testament, securing everything to me—the Malfoy fortune and all its heirlooms, my father's trusts, the deed on the manor and the estate, all of my father's assets—"
Before Hermione had a chance to read it herself, Blaise rolled it back up, shaking his head.
"This is some kind of joke," Blaise muttered darkly. "He hasn't left a single thing to your mother. You can't really be expected to run everything."
Draco laughed dryly and rolled his eyes. "You wouldn't know about that because your mother is quite manipulating when it comes to swindling men out of their money and turning it over to her. My father strongly believed that everything be passed to me so I could support my mother should anything happen to him."
"She's perfectly capable of running things herself," Blaise argued.
"My mother agrees with my father, Blaise," Draco said. "Everything's mine to do with as I please. My mother has her private accounts, but they are nothing compared to my father's, so it's up to me to ensure everything is settled and my mother is taken care of."
"But look at this," Blaise protested, gesturing to the scrolls. "Everything was turned over to you, including all of his debts."
Draco swallowed, his chin trembling. "I know."
"There's not enough money in what he's handed over for you to pay that off! More than half of these markets have closed since the investors have been placed in Azkaban, the businesses foreclosed. He's lost all of that money, Draco. Just look at how much he owes people."
"Yeah, he's set on ruining my future even when he's rotting away," Draco mumbled and his words were slow and hard, his tongue thick in his drunken state. "We're poor. We have nothing left. Even if we sold everything it wouldn't make a dent in half of these debts. I went back to school because I couldn't get a job after the Trace was put back on me at my trial because I couldn't use magic, but who's to say that was the only reason why I couldn't get a position? My father burnt a lot of bridges within the Ministry."
"You were pardoned, Draco," Blaise consoled. "That's got to mean something. They can't turn you down just because you were accused of something. I mean, the Minister himself wrote you off. They shouldn't be able to discriminate against you and if they did I'm certain you would be able to address the Magical Law Enforcement or the minister himself!"
Draco shrugged, stumbling away from his friend.
"Draco, you know all you need to do is just ask and—"
"I will not ask you or anyone else for money," Draco interrupted roughly.
"Draco, if it could help—"
"No!"
Blaise closed his mouth and shook his head. "Your pride frustrates me."
"I will not take what is not mine as my father did and further complicate our condition. I would owe you and I'm not certain I could ever repay you and I could not risk our friendship over some petty loan."
"Oh, please," Blaise scoffed.
"It happened to my father," Draco snapped. "Steadily, over the years, the more he took the more he lost and he lost more than money."
"Fine. If you won't allow me to help you with your finances, at least let me be a friend and take you out. We need a vacation," Blaise stated.
"What do you mean?" wondered Draco.
"Remember how we made that vow to each other in second year that after we graduated Hogwarts we'd travel the world together?"
"No money," grumbled Draco. "Can't. Gotta find a job."
"What if I told you I could make both of those things happen?"
Draco rolled his eyes. "I don't want your pity, Zabini."
"I'll talk to my department head tomorrow. He values my opinion and I've become quite the valuable asset to him. So, if I drop the word, I'm sure I could spring you an interview. And the best part of it is once you get the job, we can travel all we want—it's our job to see the world."
Draco turned around to stare at him. "You would do that for me?"
"Of course I would, you nutter. So, what do you say?"
"What do you get from all this?"
"I'm just being a friend, Draco. No strings attached, you don't owe me anything. For once, let someone do something nice for you," Blaise insisted.
"Oh, bloody hell. Why not? If you can get me the job, I'll do whatever you want for the rest of your high-fashioned life."
They shook hands and then Blaise slung Draco's arm around his shoulder and they both staggered away into the mist of the moors outside Malfoy Manor, heading for a brighter future.
As the scene morphed, my heart was crying for him. I'd never known that his father had died, and so soon after the war. I remembered something in the paper once about Lucius Malfoy going missing, but I'd soon forgotten about it due to several things in my life that overshadowed anything else.
My thoughts dissipated as I landed in another memory.
I was suddenly in an expansive club, surrounded by dancing couples. The club was obviously V.I.P exclusive and quite expensive. At the table next to me sat Draco Malfoy, looking much healthier and better than he had in the last memory. Clearly, months had progressed. His hair was cut shorter in a fashionable manner and he held his indifferent and debonair grace with him, even as he sat at a marble table, his head resting on his palm as he stared into the crowd.
I followed his gaze, watching Blaise Zabini twirl a lovely young woman with brown curls across the dance floor. I started, my eyes popping out of my head as I recognized the face of the woman being dipped by Blaise. With a start I realized it was Ariana, much younger and much more carefree than the woman I'd met eleven years in the future. She carried a seductive, sultry grace about her and she wore her clothes a little tighter, her hair cascading to her waist in thick ringlets. I couldn't help but notice the dark looks and whispers that followed behind her every direction she went. When the song had ended, Blaise led her to the table where Draco sat and deposited Ariana into the seat next to him.
"Bonjour," she greeted and Draco nodded, smirking at Blaise from over Ariana's shoulder. "I'm Ariana de Jean."
"You must be the woman Blaise hasn't been able to shut up about all night long," Draco said, winking humorously at Blaise, who began to stutter and deny this.
Ariana giggled, glancing at Blaise from under her lashes. "Is that right?"
"I'm afraid you've got him all a flutter," Draco said, extending his hand. "I'm Draco Malfoy, the best friend."
"Uh oh," Ariana chuckled, winking at him. "The best friend is almost as bad as the parents."
"I'm quite overprotective," Draco admitted and nudged Blaise.
"Right, Draco," Blaise said, rolling his eyes. "Now you've met. Happy? Ariana, let's dance some more."
"I'm actually a bit tired. Perhaps a drink would be more appropriate?" Ariana suggested, raising her eyebrows expectantly. "I'll just stay and keep Draco company."
Blaise smirked and shrugged his shoulders. "Any preference?"
"Whatever you pick," she said easily, waving him off.
"I'm not sure you want to do that," Draco warned.
"I can handle it," Ariana claimed.
They chatted easily with each other about Draco's occupation and how he was enjoying his time in Paris, especially his days off when he could explore the city. Blaise returned, holding a round of premium fire whisky and a glass of fine champagne.
"Thanks, Blake," Ariana said, snatching up a glass of fire whisky, leaving the champagne for Draco, and downing it in one gulp.
Draco and Blaise both stared at her in amazement.
"Er, no problem. And it's Blaise," he corrected, sinking down in his seat.
"I rather like her," Draco confessed and then in a voice so only he and Blaise could hear, added, "Doesn't seem like your typical woman, my friend. I believe she is attempting to play you."
"Well, we certainly can't allow my reputation to be trashed as such," Blaise whispered, cocking an eyebrow. "Can we?"
"What are you two birds whispering about?" Ariana interrupted.
They joked together usually making comments at Blaise's expense, until the clock struck ten and Ariana jumped from her seat.
"Oh, no," she exclaimed, glancing at the watch on Draco's wrist. "I promised my friend that I would meet her at the book vendor an hour ago before it closed! Oh, she's going to be so cross with me. I've got to give her a call."
"You'd better go, then," Draco agreed.
"Yes, I should get going. Thanks for the drinks, Blane."
"It's Blaise," the young Italian said again, blinking and frowning. "Er, say, maybe we can walk you off, meet this friend of yours."
Hermione bristled, knowing Blaise was trying to pass Ariana off and try to make a go with her friend.
"No, I'm fine. She gets rather shy around people she doesn't know. I've been teaching her French and I've been showing her around Paris. Oh, she's just so funny, a real bookworm, and so pretty."
"Draco would like her, then," Blaise sighed, obviously giving up on his idea to bypass Ariana for her friend.
"Women are a waste of time," Draco responded.
"Don't be fooled, Ari, he's a total player," Blaise disclosed. "He can have any woman at his disposal."
"Not this girl, he can't," Ariana said firmly. "My friend isn't easily swayed or wooed."
"I think this woman is challenging your romantic prowess, Draco," Blaise said. "What do you say?"
"I say it's late, we've got a meeting in the morning, and I'm going back to the hotel," Draco responded, getting up and stretching. He kissed Ariana lightly on the hand and bowed his head. "Pleasure to meet you, Ariana."
"Likewise," she said and the scene faded again, morphing into another.
Now, I stood in a drawing room. Draco sat by the window, reading. In the opposite corner of the room, Blaise sat hunched over a chess board. Across from him sat a girl with luscious black hair and striking blue eyes, someone I recognized from Hogwarts. She'd been in Ginny's year and was on the Slytherin Quidditch team. She was incredibly beautiful, dressed in classy clothing and pearl earrings.
"Checkmate!" she announced and Blaise groaned.
"You cheated," he said.
"You've said that the last five times she's won, mate," Draco drawled from the window. "Give it up already. She's better than you."
"Oh, now, don't be sour," the beautiful girl laughed, patting Blaise's hand. "You'll get better in time."
"Shut up, Astoria," Blaise sighed, whisking away from her. "Now, Astoria, you don't mind if I steal your little poopsie for the night do you?"
The woman—Astoria—quirked an eyebrow as Blaise tore the book away from Draco and seized him.
"Got a hot date or something?" Astoria wondered.
"Something like that," Blaise whispered to himself so that only Draco could hear, though he pretended not to. "Don't worry, Astoria. I won't let your future husband be defiled by French prostitutes."
At this, Hermione startled. Future husband?
Despite herself, Astoria smiled at this.
"Okay, fine. But you two had better be back at a reasonable hour. You and I have that Exploding Snap rematch to finish, Blaise," Astoria said and Blaise winked at her.
"Don't worry, my pudding puff, we shall return."
With that, Blaise wheeled a reluctant Draco from the room.
"Blaise, what are you doing?" he demanded as soon as they were outside.
"I'm taking you out to have some fun," Blaise responded.
"By fun, I hope you don't mean setting me up with another French woman to persuade me to call off my engagement," Draco said as Blaise pulled him into the dimly lit Parisian street. The night was alight with stars and the moon sparkled over the Seine river.
"No, of course not," Blaise promised. "She's British."
"Blaise!" Draco cawed. "I told you I'm serious about this. I'm going to follow through on this—"
"Oh, come on, Draco," Blaise said, rolling his eyes. "What you are doing is stupid and confining. Marriage, especially when it is arranged, is a waste of money and time. Astoria won't even know. Just because you've sold your soul to clear your debt doesn't mean you can't have a summer of fun before you give your life away to a woman you don't love."
"I realize that you have issues with the concept of marriage," said Draco blandly. "But there's too much at stake here for me to turn back now. I gave my word and I really do like Astoria. I could come to love her in time."
"She's taken with you, Draco," Blaise insisted. "She thinks this is all real, that you want to marry her. If she ever found out—"
"She will never find out, do I make myself clear? It isn't fair to her."
"You're right, it isn't. None of this is," Blaise scoffed. "Draco, she's my friend. I've known her longer than I've known you. Just think about what you're doing, please. It's not too late to call it all off."
"You know I can't do that," Draco sighed. "As much as I'd like to...This isn't just about Astoria or me. Our families came to this conclusion together, they made a deal, and I've got to follow through with it for—"
"Your mum. I got it."
"Anyway, I don't want to have any more of these stupid dates with women I'll never see again. What's the point?"
"The point, my friend, is that you are very lonely and you have been spending far too much time wandering the streets of Paris alone feeling sorry for yourself or cooped up inside reading boring novels when you could be sucking face with beautiful women, having the time of your life."
Draco rolled his eyes.
"Those days are far behind me, Blaise," Draco said. "I'm just not into that anymore. I have responsibilities now, I have commitments."
Blaise backpedaled.
"Okay, okay. No smacking face. At least have some fun, for Merlin's sake. Do something you've never done before. There are a lot of things you won't be able to do as soon as you marry Astoria Greengrass, so do them now, before the announcement goes public and you have to live this lie forever."
They'd arrived in front of a pulsing club.
"You're not really making me go in there," Draco said, glancing warily at the club.
"Oh, yes I am," Blaise said, shoving him forward.
I followed them through the club's doors.
"Stop being such a pessimist," Blaise barked over the raging music. "The only way that I can be around this fiery woman and convince her that she's in love with me anymore is if I bring you along to mingle with her best can I say? She is good at throwing curveballs."
"So, you're using me," Draco noted.
"Like you've never done the same thing!" Blaise defended and Draco laughed.
"Alright, alright, don't get your panties in a twist. I'll do it," Draco agreed. "But I am not interested in anything but polite conversation. Understand?"
"But you will mingle? No matter what," Blaise said.
"Yeah, yeah, no matter what," Draco said, waving it off nonchalantly. "From what Ariana's said, she's not half bad. But you owe me."
"I know," Blaise said, beaming. "Thanks, mate. It means a lot."
They'd reached the bar now and I spotted Ariana swaying on a movable padded stool, sucking on a colorful martini. Next to her was a slim young woman with bouncy honey hair and a light peaches and cream complexion. Her face was hidden, but she was dressed in a dark blue dress, tied around her neck, and was lightly sipping on a small glass of champagne—clearly a prude amongst all the alcoholics. She seemed uncomfortable and out of place.
"There you are!" exclaimed Ariana, twisting out of her seat. "I was beginning to think you were going to stand us up."
"I've brought my partner in crime, just as promised," Blaise said, clapping Draco on the shoulder and forcing him forward.
"Good to see you again," Ariana greeted and swung around excitedly, grabbing the honey haired girl's hand. "I'd like you to meet my friend."
As Draco's eyes swam across the girl's body, they appeared glazed and warm, like liquefied metal. His lips formed a small 'O' and his hands fell limply to his sides. And then, I noticed with incredible shock that the woman in the blue cocktail dress, dressed up to the nines—obviously Ariana's doing—with stylish make-up and hair products, was none other than me.
And there Draco was, eyeing me like some long lost toy from his childhood. Clearly, he didn't realize it was me. And I didn't seem to notice that the man Ariana had set me up with was none other than Draco Malfoy himself. Of course, that was probably because I wasn't looking at him.
"Blaise Zabini?" my memory self asked, stepping forward. She glanced between Ariana and Blaise. "Wait, really? Ari! No. I mean, no offense, Blaise, but Ariana! Couldn't you have found someone I didn't know?"
"You know Blaise?" asked a shocked Ariana.
"Wait, do I know you?" Blaise wondered, stepping closer. "You look kind of familiar."
"Blaise, this is my friend Hermione," Ariana introduced.
"I do know you!" Blaise erupted, jumping up and down. "Granger, right? From school! You hung out with Potter and Weasel!"
"That would be Weasley," my younger self said coolly. "And yes. You are correct on my identity."
I took that moment to glance at Draco, who looked like he'd just swallowed eel.
"Granger?" he mouthed, but nothing came out and my memory self still hadn't noticed him.
"Blimey, Granger, you sure filled out smashingly," Blaise complimented, winking at my memory self. My younger self sent him an eye-roll.
"I'll forever cherish such a flattering statement, Zabini," my younger self replied saucily.
From feet away, Draco Malfoy seemed to be having an aneurysm. He kept backing up, as if willing his feet to speed him away, but he wasn't quick enough. Ariana sweepingly turned my memory self toward the pale blond, who looked scared out of his mind, and stated, "There's your date, Hermione!"
My ocher eyes swept briefly over Draco, not really seeing him, and then, as if I'd been hit by a train, his appearance seemed to manifest itself to me.
"You've got to be joking," my younger self deadpanned and gazed between Blaise and Ariana. "You can't seriously expect me to—Ariana, are you—you can't possibly know that—look, this isn't going to work—he and I—we have a past—Is that really you, Malfoy?"
"Hi, Granger," Draco stammered, scratching his neck.
My younger self seemed floored that he'd greeted me in such a blasé way, with no malice or irritation evident in his voice.
"Blaise, can I speak with you for a moment?" Draco asked politely, but once Blaise was in his grasp, he turned deadly. "Granger? Are you out of your bleeding mind? I can't spend my summer with her! This is some kind of sick joke! How did I let you talk me into this? I'll never trust you ever again. Our friendship is over. I hate you for this."
"I didn't know it was going to be the Gryffindor princess," Blaise defended and shot a look over his shoulder to scope me. "Though, you have to admit, she has filled out."
"That's an understatement," Draco mumbled.
"So you agree!" Blaise said and Draco smacked his palm to his face. "She's bloody gorgeous!"
"You weren't supposed to hear that and I never said that. Don't go getting any ideas. I'm leaving. I didn't agree to this," Draco said darkly.
"You did, though," Blaise reminded him. "You said 'no matter what'. Draco, come on. You can't leave. Ari will only go out with me if you keep Hermione company."
"Hermione? You're joking right? You don't actually expect me and Granger to get along for one night, much less the whole summer, do you?" When Blaise didn't respond except for his usual smirk, Draco growled. "I hate you."
"You love me," Blaise argued. "Which is exactly why you are going to go over there and compliment Granger on how bloody gorgeous she's gotten."
"No. Absolutely not. Don't touch me. No! I'm no horsing around, you sod. Let me go—Blaise, I'm not—oof!"
Draco unceremoniously landed in my younger self's arms, his face pressing embarrassingly into my bosom. For one awkward pause, I was sure my younger self would clock him upside the head, but I didn't. Draco pulled away and straightened, swallowing and growing incredibly red. It was odd to see him so flustered.
"I—um—you—" he stuttered and my memory self widened doe eyes at this display. "You look—good. Really good. I mean, you look fine. I guess."
My memory self was silent for quite some time and then swallowed.
"Thanks, I think," I replied steadily, obviously trying hard to keep calm.
"So, it seems we're stuck with each other for the night," Draco said. "Care to be civil for a night and pretend we're enjoying each others company for the benefit of our lovesick friends?"
"Fine," I replied after a moment, grabbing my purse. "But if we're actually going to endure each others presence and be civil, we might as well go somewhere more private."
"Private?" squeaked Draco, becoming unraveled. He seemed to notice his embarrassing slip and instantly he was colored in his manly Draco Malfoy sex-god façade. "I mean, why would I want to go anywhere private with you?"
My younger self's eyes blazed, but with a furtive glance back at Ariana and Blaise, who were staring at the display between the two enemies worriedly, I made up my mind and grabbed Draco's arm.
"Yes, Malfoy. You and me are taking a stroll, where I can breathe fresh, untainted air, take in the sights of the most glorious city in the world, and not have my backside squeezed by drunk men all night long," I responded curtly, dragging him behind me.
I noticed as I followed that Draco swallowed at my younger self's statement, his eyes lowering to the lower half of my body and lingering there for far longer than I would have liked. Cheeky little runt.
"Oh, Merlin, save me," Draco muttered, casting his eyes away from my backside as my memory self forced him out of the smoky bar and into the clear, romantic evening.
The memory faded.
There were a series of new memories, all of which consisted of me, Ariana, Blaise, and Draco spending time together, enjoying famous sights, testing out French words, eating hefty and delicious French meals. I spent the majority of the summer grudgingly attached to Draco's hip. Every time Ariana and Blaise would start kissing and eventually full on making out, Draco and I would escape the heinous display and start talking about our favorite books, foods, places to visit, our views on politics, etc.
This went on and on, swishing past me unimportantly until the memories came to a stand still once more and I was in another scene. Draco and I were walking alongside the Seine and I was laughing at something he'd said.
"You have a beautiful laugh," Draco told me abruptly, avoiding my eyes as I stopped laughing and gazed up at him.
"Why do you always do that?" my memory self asked, frowning.
"Do what?" he asked.
"Flirt with me and hit on me and pretend that you actually think I'm attractive."
"You think I'm pretending?" he said disbelievingly.
"I know you are. You're Draco Malfoy. I'm Hermione Granger. You gave me buckteeth in fourth year and would stop in the middle of the hallway just to poke insults at me. And now here you are, when I'd finally thought I'd never see your smirking arrogant face again, walking down the streets of Paris with me every night, enduring all this time with me just so your friend can have a nice summer. Why don't you just pretend to do away with me and we both go our separate ways?"
"Because maybe I enjoy your company, Granger," he said dryly. "Have you ever considered that? That maybe this isn't a joke to me anymore? I no longer feel obligated to be around you, because I know you. I like being around you. Okay? Is that a crime? I'm not pretending when I tell you that you have a beautiful laugh. I can't believe I spent all those years making you cry and frown—your smile is so much better."
Both my former self and my older self were floored, hanging on his every word, breathless.
"I'm sincerely sorry for what I did to you back then," he apologized, sighing. "I don't expect you to forgive me—I certainly don't deserve it. But I really am sorry. I've made my fair share of mistakes—more than I'd ever like to admit—but the fact of the matter is I've gotten better. I'm trying."
"I'm proud of you, Draco," my younger self said abruptly, cutting him off as he rambled.
He paused, at a loss for words, staring hopefully into my eyes.
"Proud?"
For some reason, this word seemed to hang heavily around him.
"Yes, Draco. I'm proud of you. Over the summer you've shown me a different side to you that I always knew was there somewhere. I would never have admitted it back then, but I always hoped one day you and I could get past this horrible prejudice and be on speaking terms. That's why, I suppose, I agreed to stay with you that first night and have civil conversation. I saw something in you that night that gave me a glimmer of hope that you had changed. And now I see you have."
We were silent for quite some time, just staring into the river, unblinking. Subtly, Draco reached over and grasped my hand in his, entwining our fingers.
"Is this okay?" he asked and shockingly, my younger self nodded, my eyes shining in the pale moonlight.
Maybe it was the romantic Paris setting, maybe it was utter insanity, or maybe, just maybe, there truly was something there that made me believe in perusing something with Draco Malfoy. All in all, it was a wonder to behold—two enemies coming together in a silent truce, allowing a window of unforeseen opportunity to arise between them.
Draco and I stood by the river's edge for quite some time, not speaking, just holding hands, rubbing our fingers along the other's soft skin, marking it as our own.
"I wasn't lying when I said you were attractive," Draco said suddenly, breaking the silence. "You thought I was pretending, just being flirtatious, but I was serious. I can't flirt with you without it meaning something, Hermione."
I was shocked when he used my first name.
"So, what does this mean?" I asked him, biting my lip, causing his eyes to zoom in toward my seashell lips.
"It means that in some strange and absurd way that I'm falling for you," Draco admitted and it seemed to pain him by saying this. "And for once I've got no idea how to stop."
"I'm not sure I want to stop," I confessed quietly, daring to look into his eyes.
"This isn't going to be easy," he said as our faces drew closer and closer. "It's going to be really hard. And we're going to have to work at this every second of every day if we want this to work. But I want to do that, I want to try. Because I want you in my life, Hermione. You make me…decent."
"You've always been good, Draco," I protested, wrapping my arms around his neck. "You just needed a push in the right direction."
"How can you have so much faith in me?" he whispered as our faces drew ever closer.
"I've always had faith in you, Draco," I told him. "You've just never given me a reason to prove it. In fact, if we want to completely factual about—"
"Granger, for Merlin's sake, for once in you life, do me a favor," Draco said.
"What?" I asked, silencing myself.
"Shut up," he smirked and pressed his lips to mine, crossing the threshold I had been too afraid to cross by myself, embracing me in his warmth, showering me with hope for a better future.
For one time in my life, as I stared at the scene unfolding before me in the depths of Draco's memories, I had no idea where life was going to take me, no plan, no assurance.
And I was completely okay with it.