Chapter 51: The Party
"What the hell is this?!" Callum demanded as he yanked open his front door that evening. Loud music pulsed into the hallway through the open door as flashing lights cast strange shadows over Callum's shoulder.
"Loosen up, man! It's a party," Albert said, pushing past Callum and entering the foyer of Callum's lavish apartment.
"Yeah, I figured as much," Callum said through gritted teeth. "But why is it happening here? At my apartment?"
"Well, you didn't have to let people in," Draco said matter-of-factly, following Albert farther into the apartment and enveloping himself in the music. "That's the whole point of a front door."
Callum glared darkly at Draco and Albert, scrutinizing them as if he were reading their minds. "You still haven't answered my question."
"I got promoted man," Albert said, grabbing a bottle of firewhiskey from the dining table. "And if you were a good friend, you'd be happy for me."
Callum frowned. "I am happy for you, now that you told me. But why does you getting promoted give you permission to throw a party at my house without my permission?"
"Because you would've said no," Draco said, taking a swig from the bottle Albert had just passed to him. "Seriously, mate, loosen up a bit. Have a drink, meet some girls. You do know that you're single right?"
Callum huffed and grabbed a bottle of firewhiskey as well, downing it within minutes. Then, after wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, he stomped off toward a group of girls dancing near the fireplace. Draco laughed as he and Albert waded through the sea of people dancing near the large stage, where a local band was playing an extremely loud set. As was customary with all the parties anyone Draco's age threw in the Parisian Wizarding Underground, everyone aged 18-29 had shown up. Not that Draco was complaining- it was way more fun this way. He and Albert started playing pool with a bunch of wizards who worked at Gringotts, and then danced with anyone and everyone they could make eye contact with. Within three hours, Draco's back was drenched with sweat, and he was absolutely hammered, and he needed a break.
"Hey, I'm going to head out now, " Draco yelled into Albert's ear. "Congrats again on the promotion, mate."
"So soon?" Albert yell-whined as he continued dancing with a tall brunette girl. "Lame!"
"I'll see you at work tomorrow, okay? Stay at Callum's tonight!" Draco responded. There was no way Albert could make it back home that night- he was way too drunk.
"Sounds good!" Albert said, drifting away with the same girl.
Draco chuckled to himself as he slung his coat over his shoulder and headed for the front door. Once he had reached the ground floor, he stepped out onto the empty street and allowed himself to be cooled off by the breeze that was swirling around the alleyway. Draco took a step forward and began meandering through the quaint streets of the Parisian Wizarding Underground, glancing into the windows of the empty shops as he walked past them. The cold air seemed to make him more alert, and he slowly felt the numbness that the whiskey brought subside. The edges of his vision, nevertheless, still felt a little fuzzy.
Draco continued down the main street, carefully placing one foot in front of the other. He swung his coat to and fro, then finally it on when he realized he was shivering. A quarter of an hour later, he stopped in front of his favorite bookshop, the one at the bottom of the building that housed his and Albert's flat, and pulled open the faded green door.
"Bonjour, Draco," said Thomas, the night manager. "Had a busy night?" He asked mischievously.
"Hardly," Draco replied, strolling up the counter. "Got any coffee?"
"Always," Thomas replied. "One minute." Thomas began heading for the storeroom in the back when a large thud sounded from behind one of the bookstacks. Draco immediately turned around and headed for the direction of the noise. When he finally reached the suspected location, he found nothing there, not even a single fallen book. Draco frowned and began inching forward, wand outstretched. When he reached the end of the stack, he heard a small shuffle on his left, and he immediately turned the corner and exclaimed, "Revelio!" At first nothing happened, but then, slowly, a figure began appearing crouched down at the end of the bookshelf. When the figure came into focus, Draco stared at it for a few moments, then threw a hand over his face and groaned. He waited approximately half a second before he stormed out of the shop and began running toward the entrance into the lobby of the building. Then, suddenly, she was there in front of him, right in front of the doors. And since Draco was in no shape to Apparate directly into his flat, he was trapped.
Assessing the situation before him, Draco took a few deep, calming, breaths. He could feel his heart rate picking up speed, and sweat coated his back once again. Draco placed his hands on his hips and hunched over, fighting back the memories that were flooding his brain that the bile that preceded particularly horrible vomit. He kept breathing in and out, in and out, but his vision seemed to be blurring. Straightening up, Draco closed his eyes and nodded once at Hermione before turning around and walking back toward the bookstore. If she was following him, he did not notice; his full focus was on the steaming cup of coffee he could see through the frosted store window.
When the mug was finally encased in his hands, Draco stepped back outside and dropped into one of the steel chairs before a tiny table outside of the shop. She was there, sitting in the chair opposite him. Draco closed his eyes again, took a deep breath, then reopened his eyes as he took a long sip of the steaming brown liquid. He said nothing, afraid of what was to come.
Finally, after five agonizingly long minutes, Hermione cleared her throat.
"I'm here for work," she said softly.
Draco made a noise in the back of his throat as he took another sip of coffee. He still said nothing.
Hermione sighed. "I went back to Hogwarts to do my seventh year." She sighed again and glanced up at the sky, as if there were words spelled out in the stars that would help her find something to say. "You should have been there. You would have enjoyed some of the new classes."
Draco looked at Hermione over the rim of his mug and raised a single eyebrow. Hermione glanced down at her lap, where her hands sat nervously folded.
"I suppose you want to know why exactly I'm here," Hermione continued, unable to bear the silence. "I'm here on an assignment."
"Yes, I could infer that from your previous reason," Draco said, his words getting stuck in his throat as though he had a cold.
Something that resembled a smile flickered across Hermione's lips.
"I don't suppose you care to know what the assignment is?" Hermione said almost angrily.
Draco shook his head.
"Well, then," Hermione huffed, leaning back in her chair, arms crossed. "I don't know what else to say."
Draco let out a bark of laughter, which he quickly swallowed down with a sip of coffee.
Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, then seemed to remember something, and her features immediately softened. She bit her lip as if she were trying to keep from crying. She sat up straight, staring over her right shoulder at the lamppost that stood beside the table. Draco continued sipping his coffee.
"I'm sorry," Hermione blurted out after a few minutes. She paused for a moment, waiting for Draco to say something. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so, so, so, so sorry." She reached out a hand and placed it on Draco's wrist. "I'm sorry for not writing you, for not telling you, for getting mad at you, for hitting you, for expecting from you something that I don't deserve to expect from you." She was staring right into his eyes, and had pushed the cup of coffee away from his mouth so that he was staring right back at her. Her voice was strained with the effort of fighting back tears, and now both her hands were gripping Draco's. "I'm so, so, so, sorry. I could have stopped this all from happening, I could have saved you, Dumbledore, Snape, all of you if I had just been more understanding and kind, if I had just..." Tears were now rolling down her cheeks, and she was bit her lip again as she tucked her chin behind her right shoulder and squeezed her eyes shut. Draco stared down at his hands, which were covered with hers, and became suddenly hyperaware of his heartbeat, which was much slower than normal.
"I'm sorry," Hermione whispered, her gaze directed at Draco's wrists again. Her grip on his hands tightened. She shut her eyes and took a deep breath, head down. Draco continued staring at her hands, his eyes roving over the scars that crossed over her knuckles and veins. He could feel nothing; it was as if his whole being had gone numb. His mind was blank, his emotions nonexistent. He felt like a statue, his head fixated in place, his eyes left to bore into the pile of hands on the table for all eternity. From somewhere outside of his stony encasement, Draco heard Hermione sniffle. She slowly removed her hands from around Draco's and dropped them into her lap in what appeared to be defeat. She sighed, her shoulders rising and falling dramatically. Draco looked up at her, suddenly mobile again. He gazed at her tear-soaked face and her tousled hair for a moment,closed his eyes, then stood up.
"Thank you," he said firmly, gathering up his cup and coat. He saw Hermione give him a small nod, her eyes directed at her lap, out of the corner of his eye as he strode into the shop and gave Thomas back his mug. Then Draco walked back out of the shop and toward the lobby entrance, passing Hermione on his way. She was still sitting there, hands folded, eyes downcast, when Draco walked past the table. Draco did not look at her.
As he climbed the stairs up to the flat, Draco felt a weight on his heart. His footsteps echoed around the stone walls as he climbed higher and higher, toward the tiny yellow light glowing up on the seventh floor. Draco fumbled with his keys for a moment outside the door to the flat, finally managing to find the right one. When he began inserting the key into the lock, he noticed something unusual lying on the accent table below the mailboxes. Cautiously, Draco approached the table. Once in front of the table, Draco stared at the object for a few minutes before he realized what it was.
It was a tiny black notebook.
A/N: !
Please let me know what you think!
