Author's Note: Thank you as always to the wonderful LightofEvolution, but another shout out to mhcalamas who helped me bunches with this chapter. Make sure to check out her FANTASTIC story Memorised which constantly has me on pins and needles and (unlike this story) updates regularly.
And of course, thank you all for reading and for your wonderful words after the last chapter. I was thrilled with the response to Astoria! She may or may not pop back up again in a future chapter ;) But until then, I hope you like this next chapter, and make sure to let me know what you think! Every single one of your comments makes my day!
Several loud thunks echoed through Hermione's flat, and she startled at the disruption of her sleep. She looked at the time. It hadn't even been an hour since she had slipped into bed. After a long evening at work, slumber hung heavy on her eyelids, and Hermione opted to ignore the disturbance.
The thunks continued only now they seemed to be getting closer. Dear Merlin, who was causing such a commotion this late at night? If she wasn't already so comfortable in bed and her wand wasn't so far away, Hermione would have cast a Silencing Charm to keep the noise out. She scrunched her eyelids closed, trying to ignore the sound, but it didn't seem to be stopping.
The loud yells of her neighbour seeped through her windows.
"Oi! What do you think you're doing! My kids are sleeping in here!"
Hermione tried to drown the argument out with her pillow, but the muffled cries were making it too difficult for her to return to her peaceful state. Highly irritated by the situation, she shoved off the covers to give the offenders a piece of her mind.
The glass pane slid open, and Hermione stuck her head out in irritated dismay. She took in a breath, preparing to chide both parties and insist that they cease their late night tirade, when she glanced down at the street and recognised the patch of blond locks.
"I said I want to see Granger! G-r-a-"
"Draco?"
The wizard in question's face lit up when he saw her, and the rock in his hand fell to the ground.
"You know this bloke?" her neighbour snarled out of his bedroom window.
Though she doubted Draco would be able to see it from that distance, Hermione raised a dissatisfied eyebrow at him anyway. "Unfortunately."
"In that case, tell your boyfriend to stop throwing rocks at the wrong window!"
Heat rushed to Hermione's cheeks, but before she could correct the man, he slammed his window shut.
Draco pointed a lazy finger in her direction, his balance teetering. "I found you!"
A mild smile threatened to reveal itself across Hermione's lips as she shook her head back and forth at the absurdity of the scene. Discovering Draco calling for her from outside her flat window past eleven on a Friday night wasn't exactly how she had imagined seeing him next. Yet despite how much she knew she should be annoyed, she couldn't shake the jitters fluttering inside her. Suddenly, sleep no longer felt important.
"Stay right there, Draco. I'm coming down."
Crookshanks purred his disapproval at whatever had dared disrupt his slumber as Hermione shoved her slippers on. A calming pat on Crookshanks' head later, Hermione slipped out of her bedroom and ran downstairs.
"And what precisely was your plan?" Hermione asked by way of greeting. "Continue throwing rocks at the windows until I appeared?"
Draco stumbled over something on the pavement as he approached the door. He pressed both hands against her cheeks, his cool touch sending a short tingle pulsing through her body.
"It worked didn't it? And besides, I had to see you."
His breath was contrastingly hot and reeked of alcohol.
Hermione surveyed his wobbly state. "Merlin, Draco. Are you drunk?"
Draco knocked his head back and laughed. "Out of my bloody mind!"
He removed his hands, and for a moment, Hermione missed the sensation of his skin against hers, until Draco reached down and intertwined their fingers. She barely had enough time to note the way their hands so easily fit together before he dragged her out of the building.
She let out a surprised squeal at the sudden movement. "And just what do you think you're doing now?" she asked with an accompanying laugh. Drunk Draco Malfoy was much more handsy than she was accustomed to.
"Let's do something," he proffered, and then his eyes grew wide with an idea. "Show me another museum."
He tried pulling her farther away from her building, but his intoxicated state made it easy for Hermione to hold her ground.
"You do realise it's after eleven, don't you? Or have you not noticed that the sky is pitch black and that I'm standing here in my pyjamas?"
Draco eyed her up and down, taking in her appearance, and his lips instantly curled into an amused grin. Apparently he really hadn't noticed her matching top and bottom pink flannel pyjama set with little white cartoon figures that read "Molar Bear" underneath.
He held a fist in front of his lips to try to block the ever-growing grin, but it did nothing to stifle the chuckles that broke loose.
Hermione knocked him on the shoulder with the ball of her hand. "They were a birthday present from my mother!" she defended, feeling the warmth beginning to prickle once more against her cheeks.
"That doesn't mean you actually had to wear the atrocious things."
"Yes, well, they're extremely comfortable," she opposed with a huff. "And it wasn't as if I was expecting company tonight."
She raised an eyebrow at her drunk companion who merely stared at her with that stupid grin which ran the risk of becoming permanently plastered across his features. He really could be a total pain in the arse, be it drunk or sober. Yet despite her grievances, Hermione was sincerely glad to see him - although she would much prefer to continue their late night meeting in the warmth of her flat.
"Now, if you're done trying to drag me through London in the middle of the night, let's get you upstairs and sober you up."
That statement was much easier said than done. Even getting Draco up the first flight of stairs took significant effort and guidance on her part. At first, Draco was adamant that a Sobering Potion wasn't necessary, but his attitude shifted significantly after he tripped over one of the steps and collided with the wooden panels.
"Alright, you win, Granger," he grumbled, face twisted in pain.
"I haven't seen anyone this drunk since Seamus at Dean's birthday party last year," Hermione remarked with a snigger as she helped Draco return to his feet. His knees began to buckle and Hermione rushed to drape his arm over her shoulder for added support. "I don't know whether I should be more shocked or impressed that you managed to get here all the way from Diagon Alley in one piece."
Draco released a short puff of air. "Diagon Alley? Who said anything about Diagon Alley? I Apparated from the manor."
"What?!" Hermione paused on the step they were on to stare at Draco. "How could you think that was a good idea? A Muggle could have seen you! Or worse, you could have splinched!"
Draco shrugged, slightly swaying closer towards her in the process. "Floo makes me nauseous when I'm drunk, so that didn't leave me with another choice."
"That still wasn't a good decision," Hermione reprimanded as she resumed their journey up the stairs.
But Draco wasn't fazed in the least. "It was if it meant I got to see you."
After a few more stumbles and some readjusting of her grip so that Hermione had a better hold on him, they reached her flat. The moment she opened the door, Hermione became instantly aware of just how modest her home was compared to the opulence of Malfoy Manor. The space was small, but that had never bothered Hermione who always preferred to keep things simple and neat. All she needed to be happy were the bookshelves that contained her hundreds of volumes, the television that was her favourite perk of living in a Muggle unit, and the "well loved" sofa that her parents had given her when she had moved in. As Ron would always say about the Burrow, it wasn't much, but it was home.
Not letting this temporary concern distract her from her mission, Hermione proceeded into the kitchen where she kept all her potions supplies. Draco followed closely at her feet like a loyal puppy dog.
"Why do you have to live on the third floor?" he remarked while Hermione began rummaging through her cabinets for the necessary ingredients. "Did you desperately miss that long trek up to Gryffindor Tower or something?"
Hermione laughed as she pulled out a jar of Boom Berries. "We can't all live in a fancy manor," she playfully quipped.
Draco half-chuckled, half-scoffed. "It's not as great as it's made out to be."
Hermione peered at him curiously, intrigued by his retort. Although he played it off casually, Hermione got the sense that there was more behind the statement. From the little that Draco had previously shared with her, she could reasonably infer that his relationship with his parents was complicated. He had complained about attending family dinners and mentioned his father's dismay at his author career, and yet Draco had willingly lied in his book to maintain the story that he hadn't recognise them that fated spring day. She was naturally curious to know more about what exactly was happening inside Malfoy Manor nowadays.
Meanwhile, Draco was lost in fascination at all the unfamiliar Muggle instruments. He began fiddling with the dials of the oven, watching in amazement as the illuminated neon-green digits fluctuated as he rotated the knobs. Hermione carefully removed his hand, not trusting him around anything that could burn him, and gave him a digital timer for him to examine instead.
Now clearly wasn't the time for her to bring up such a potentially sensitive subject. Draco was drunk beyond belief, and she didn't want to take advantage of his intoxicated state by prying further than he would be willing to share sober.
Instead, she decided to move past the remark and return her focus to the creation of a Sobering Potion. Hermione continued to search through her cabinets until she had assembled all the ingredients on the counter as well as a mortar, pestle, and standard sized cauldron. She wasn't in the habit of getting so drunk that she required a Sobering Potion before bed, but now she was starting to think twice about not keeping a spare vial around for unforeseen circumstances. Luckily, it was a fairly straightforward concoction and shouldn't take her too long to brew.
The clinking sound of the glass jars echoed through the small space as Hermione measured out the correct amount of each substance and returned the containers to the granite surface. She was in the process of crushing the snake fangs when Draco interrupted her concentration.
"You're going to want to add three pinches of dried Willybig stings," Draco offhandedly remarked while pulling back on one of the metal loops of the whisk that now captivated his attention.
Hermione set down the pestle and pried the whisk out of his grip before returning it to the utensils holder. "I assume you mean dried Billywig stings?" Hermione repeated, raising a taunting eyebrow at him. "And I've never heard of them being used in a Sobering Potion."
"Close enough," Draco retorted with a swat of his hand. "You know what I meant. And trust me. It will make it more effective."
Not putting much faith in his current mental state, Hermione opted to ignore Draco's suggestion and returned to the crushing of the snake fangs. It wasn't long, however, before Draco shuffled behind her and leaned over her to reach into the potions ingredients cabinet. His firm chest pressed against her back as he stood on his tiptoes to dig deeper into the space.
"And what are you doing now?" Hermione asked, giggling at the unfamiliar, but not unwelcome, sensation of Draco rubbing up against her.
"You need the Willybig… Billywig stings," he said as he pulled one of the vials from the cabinet and brought it directly in front of his face in order to properly read the label. He scrunched his eyes to make the print clearer before returning the first vial into the cabinet and pulling out another.
Hermione couldn't help but be amused by Draco's efforts. "You know, this would be ten times easier if you just asked me to do it," she said, her body flush with the counter so Draco could better access the cabinet.
"Got it!" he announced, lifting one of the vials up in triumph. He set the vibrant blue substance onto the counter. "Dried Bil-ly-wig stings," he made sure to clearly state this time. "Three pinches."
Under normal circumstances, Hermione would have respected Draco's Potions advice, but this situation called for a guaranteed solution. Yet Draco looked far too proud of himself for Hermione to flat out reject his suggestion, so she decided to at least pretend to go along with the idea.
"Okay, Draco," Hermione said with a soft smile. "Three pinches."
Draco keenly observed her every movement as Hermione finished with the snake fangs and smashed the Boom Berries to create enough juice. Once she was done with the rest of the preparations, Hermione mixed all the ingredients together in the cauldron until they turned a deep shade of plum. Feeling Draco's awaiting gaze, Hermione picked up the vial of dried Billywig stings and pretended to add three pinches.
The potion was nearly finished, and she was in the midst of completing one of the final clockwise rotations when Draco pulled the wooden spoon out of her hand.
"You didn't put in the dried Billywig stings."
"Of course I did," Hermione lied, grabbing the spoon and setting in on the counter. "You just saw me do it."
Draco's grin returned as he looked at Hermione with an expression that one could easily mistake as fondness if she didn't know him any better. "It's cute that you think you can lie to me."
Hermione felt her cheeks instinctively flush at his particular choice in words, but Draco continued before she could linger too much on the thought.
"If you put the dried Billywig stings in, then why is the potion still plum and not mauve?"
She opened her lips to come up with some retort, but before she could even utter a sound, Draco raised a challenging eyebrow and she knew whatever "explanation" she came up with wouldn't work.
"Alright, you win, Malfoy," she surrendered, mirroring his words from when they had been in the stairwell. "No, I didn't put them in. But can you blame me? You're not exactly what one would consider a reliable source right now."
She cocked her head and folded her arms against her chest, daring him to find the flaw in her logic, but Draco merely chuckled.
"You underestimate my abilities, love," he retorted, taking a step closer so he couldn't be more than a few inches away from her. His grin shifted into a smirk as his fingertips brushed the traces of her hairline and he tucked one of her curls behind her ear. "Even drunk, I'm still better at Potions than you. Or have you forgotten that Potions was the only class you were never able to beat me in?"
Hermione over-dramatically rolled her eyes at the presumption of his remark, paying no mind to the way her heart was beating unusually fast for the given scenario. "That's only because Snape liked you," she taunted in return.
Draco's smirk only grew larger as he leaned in closer. "And what about you? Do you like me?"
Hermione couldn't hold back her snicker. "I would think that was obvious," she said with a grin.
His teeth grazed his lower lip. "And what would you say if I said I like you?"
"I mean, I already assumed as much!" she promptly replied. "That's kind of a necessary part of us being friends, right?"
Draco immediately pulled back, his face turned alarmingly pale. "Right," he answered, his eyes now looking anywhere but at her. "Friends." His footing faltered as he tried to take a step back. "Sorry, I, uh, I need -"
Without any more of an explanation, Draco turned from Hermione and located the bathroom, sealing the door behind him with a piercing thump.
Hermione only paused a few seconds before she followed closely behind him and knocked on the door. "Draco? Are you okay? What just happened?"
There was silence for a few moments until he finally mustered, "I'll be out in a minute."
Hermione lingered on the other side of the door, trying to listen for any indication of what he was doing in there. Faint, distressed mutters made their way through the barrier, but Draco's exact words were indiscernible. If she had to guess, the excessive amount of alcohol had become too much for his body, and Draco was grumbling to himself while he awaited the impending purge. What else would warrant him becoming so instantly pale? Surely it hadn't been anything she said.
Not wanting to invade more than she already had, Hermione returned to the kitchen where the almost-finished Sobering Potion sat on the counter. After completing the final few clockwise rotations, Hermione filled a glass for Draco and then proceeded to the sofa, setting the Potion on the coffee table. She knocked her head back and sunk into the cushions while she waited for Draco to re-emerge.
Tiredness once more started to wash over her, but Hermione fought it off. Merlin, Draco was lucky she liked him as much as she did. She couldn't think of many people she'd be willing to tolerate at such a highly intoxicated level, let alone actually enjoy their company despite their inebriated state. But over the past two weeks, their friendship had become unexpectedly important to her. Hermione had yet to regret a single second she spent with him, which was quite an impressive feat when one considered that they saw each other near daily! Then how was it that after everything they had done together lately, Draco still had even the slightest doubt that she honestly and sincerely liked him?
The bathroom door clicked open and Draco slowly trudged his way across the sitting room until he plopped down next to her.
"Feeling better?" she asked, trying to stay positive even though all signs pointed to 'no'.
Draco grabbed one of the throw pillows and smothered his face. "Not really," he grumbled, followed by a muffled, deep-chested groan. "Just - It's been a long day."
"You seemed fine when we left the museum."
The pillow fell to his lap as he shook his head in the opposite direction of Hermione. "A lot can happen in twelve hours."
"Like what?" she gently pressed.
Draco remained silent as he mindlessly played with the tasselled fringes of the pillow, his attention fixated on the item. Hermione observed him carefully, trying to discern what was bothering him so much, but that was rather difficult when he refused to look at her. Evidently whatever he had tried to do in the bathroom hadn't helped.
Hermione scooted closer and removed the pillow from his lap. "Whatever it is, you can tell me, Draco," she said, her voice barely louder than a whisper. "I'm your friend."
She placed a reassuring hand on his thigh, but he instantly pushed it away.
"Yeah, I fucking know," he snarled, snapping his head up and fixing her with a hard stare through his bloodshot eyes. Behind the harsh gaze, however, was a trace of anguish that Hermione couldn't quite place.
"I'm just trying to help," Hermione defended, fighting the wave of disappointment that pulsed through her at his dismissiveness. Something was evidently hurting him, but there was no need for him to shut her out like this, even if he was still drunk.
Remembering the untouched Sobering Potion, Hermione handed it to Draco. "Take this. Maybe then you will actually talk to me."
Draco hesitated, contemplating whether or not he really wanted to rid himself from this drunken state. His weary eyes temporarily met Hermione's, and the witch quirked an eyebrow, urging him to just drink it already. A moment later, Draco lifted the glass and chugged the thick, plum liquid. As he set the empty glass back on the table, his face twisted in disgust, and a shiver rippled down his body, the sign that the Potion had taken effect.
"Better now?"
"Somewhat," he grumbled, keeping his head low as he raked his fingers through his hair. Hermione could just barely make out the brief smile he forced to his lips. "Perhaps my head wouldn't still be throbbing if you'd added the dried Billywig stings like I said."
Before Hermione could respond, he pushed himself off the sofa and strolled towards one of her bookcases, his steadiness back to normal. His fingers grazed over the spines and Hermione couldn't help but think he was purposefully keeping his back to her.
"I didn't mean to come off so harsh just then," he uttered, continuing to skim the collection of Muggle and Wizarding titles. "Just - I've got a lot going on in my head right now."
"I think I'm owed a bit more of an explanation than that," Hermione pushed. "You drunkenly showed up at my flat in the middle of the night, and you have yet to explain why it's me that you needed to see."
Draco took a deep breath and shook his head. "It was foolish. I shouldn't have come."
"No, that's- That's not my point." Hermione stammered to respond. "I like spending time with you Draco. Just… maybe a bit of warning next time?" she added with a small smile even though she knew he couldn't see it. "And as much as I enjoyed witnessing Drunk Draco Malfoy, I like you better like this."
Draco turned back around, a resigned smile finding its way across his features. "Because we're friends?"
"Of course we are," she assured him once more. "I don't know why you keep asking that. What else would we be?"
His chest slowly rose and fell as he released a long, tired sigh. "Nothing I suppose."
He left the bookcase and returned to the sofa, leaving a full couch cushion between them.
Hermione criss-crossed her legs and turned her body so she could properly face him. "So are you finally going to tell me what caused you to get so drunk in the first place?"
Draco folded his arms across his chest as he considered the question, his tongue nervously darting across the seam of his lips. "Let's just say that my parents and I are at an impasse about my future."
"About your writing career?" Hermione logically deduced.
She took his silence as a yes.
Hermione shook her head and rolled her eyes. "Sometimes I just want to sock your father in his snooty Pureblood nose."
This at least got a mild chuckle out of him. "I'd quite enjoy seeing that, actually."
"And what exactly does your father think is so wrong with you being an author?" Hermione asked, curious to learn more. "What does it matter to him what career you choose? It's not like your family needs the money."
Draco closed his eyes and rested his head on the back cushion. There was a long pause before he finally answered.
"It's a status thing," he explained. It was evident that he was choosing his words wisely. "Everything with my parents is about perception. Ever since I was young, I've been instilled with certain expectations - a respectable career being just one of the many things." He paused to take a breath. "I hadn't intended for this to happen, but there are some things you just can't help."
"The writing bug bit you that hard?" she teased, trying to lighten the mood, even if just temporarily.
He tilted his head so he could briefly smile at Hermione. "Believe it or not, after two years stuck in the manor, reading can get boring."
Hermione dropped her jaw in mock offence. "Say it's not so!"
"Guess you'll just have to take my word for it," he taunted in return. Draco bit down on his lower lip as a grin started to spread, but it quickly faded, replaced instead by another sigh. "Anyway, that's the situation. And I don't know what to do about it because what I want and what he wants are no longer aligned."
Hermione didn't quite understand. "If that's the case, why are you letting your father's opinions influence you?"
Draco released a long, heavy groan as he sank further into the sofa. "Because as much as I disagree with him, he's still my father."
Their conversation during that first lunch together at the sandwich shop came back to her, and Hermione recalled what Draco had said when she asked why he had been willing to lie in his book in order to maintain his parents' status in the pureblood community.
While I may not always agree with my father, he is and forever will be the only father I have. Believe it or not, I still care for him even if I spend the majority of my day cursing half the things he does.
Hermione softened her gaze as she looked at Draco, starting to better understand his perspective even though she still didn't approve of the approach.
"You have the right to make your own decisions, Draco," she cautioned.
Draco stared at the ceiling. "I am very much aware of that. But sometimes things are a lot easier said than done."
"Would it help if you moved out of the manor?"
His attention quickly shifted to Hermione, his eyebrows coming together in confusion. "Why would I move out of the manor?"
Hermione hoped she hadn't crossed a line with her suggestion, but she answered anyway. "If they're trying to control your life, it would probably be beneficial to put some physical distance between you and your parents. And moving out can be the first step in establishing your own life."
Draco merely blinked. "But Malfoy Manor is my home. Every member of the Malfoy line since the eleventh century has lived within those walls their entire life." Draco released a defeated sigh as he shook his head. "And I know how insane this sounds considering everything they've done, but I don't want to lose my parents. They're the only family I've got."
Hermione tucked her legs up onto the sofa and wrapped her arms around her knees. "I get it. Family is important to me, too," she said, striving to maintain an even tone despite the nerves that had suddenly washed over her. She worried her bottom lip and kept her gaze downward, not sure if she could stomach looking at Draco when she confessed the next bit of information. "Did you know I Obliviated my parents' memories during the war?"
Hermione didn't need to look up to feel Draco's shocked reaction.
"I had no idea," he mustered.
His fingers twitched by his side. She knew that bringing up anything pertaining to the war was risky, but it felt necessary to share this piece of her past so he could truly understand.
She slowly drew in a deep breath, letting the air fill her lungs, before continuing. "That's part of the reason why it's so important to me that I live somewhere where it's easy for them to visit. I'm forever grateful for the Mediwitches who made it possible for me to still have them in my life." She began fidgeting with the sleeves of her pyjamas. "I know what it's like to risk everything for the safety of your parents, so I, perhaps more than anyone, sincerely understand your fear of not wanting to lose them, because we've both come terrifyingly close before. It was the hardest thing I've ever done. But even though I knew it could potentially mean losing my parents forever, I did what I had to do if it meant keeping them safe."
Hermione half-heartedly shrugged. "Perhaps this wasn't the most eloquently put, but my point is, sometimes we prioritise what's better for our family members even if it's not what we personally would prefer. I Obliviated my parents' memories. You joined the Death Eaters. We did what we thought we had to do, even though it wasn't our preferred choice. But if you were willing to do that for your family, why aren't your parents just as willing to sacrifice something they'd prefer if it means making you happier?"
When Hermione finally looked up, Draco was staring at her with a mixture of sympathy and disbelief. He opened his mouth a few times to try to speak, but no words ever came out. Not that it was necessary; her question didn't exactly have an easy answer.
Tiredness once more fighting its way to the surface, Hermione laid across the sofa, her head gently landing in Draco's lap. He seemed to tense at the unexpected sensation, but after several moments, his fingers began cautiously carding through her curls.
"I'm glad your parents got their memories back," he whispered.
Hermione sighed, relaxing under his soothing touch. "I am, too." She closed her eyes as she laid there contentedly. "Let's talk about something else," she proposed, not wanting that conversation to be how they finished the evening. "Have you started The Two Towers yet?"
"Haven't had the chance," Draco said, still running his fingers through her hair. He hesitated a moment and then continued, "How about you just tell me about the rest of your day?"
Hermione perked up, once again finding herself sitting upright. An instant smile graced her lips. "I can't believe I haven't told you yet!" The development of that afternoon had slipped from the forefront of her mind when she had been so immersed with everything else between her and Draco that evening. Her chest warmed as she proudly shared, "We had a meeting with the head of the company, and I'm now going to be working with both the Literacy and Muggle Studies departments!"
She beamed at Draco's resulting smile.
"Congratulations," he said. "Although this better not mean I'll be seeing less of you, or I might just have to throw more rocks at your window now that I know which one is yours."
"Only if you're not drunk the next time!" she returned with a laugh. "But I will warn you that things are going to be hectic around the office again. The Ministry decided we need to scale back the program's number of hours a week."
Draco leaned in and pinched her side, eliciting a squeal out of Hermione as she wriggled at the touch and threw herself back into his lap.
"Was that or was that not precisely what I said?" he proclaimed, his grin growing ever wider. "Admit that I was right and you were wrong!"
Hermione giggled, Draco's reactions exactly what she had predicted. His grey eyes twinkled with delight as he gazed down at her, and Hermione felt the urge to nibble on the edge of her bottom lip. Heat rushed to her cheeks, and as she peered up at Draco, Hermione had no doubt she looked equally happy, perfectly content with how their evening had turned out.