Monday morning, Draco sat at his desk, staring at the case report from Lavender Brown's arrest and trying to figure out what to do next. After leaving Hogsmeade on Saturday, he was hopeful that Hermione would contact him so they could talk things over further.
But she hadn't, and he'd been too nervous to reach out to her.
Today, though, he was feeling a little braver. Grabbing a spare sheet of parchment from his desk drawer, he started writing her a note.
Granger,
Do you have a few minutes to spare today?
I'd really like to speak with you about this coming weekend.
Let me know.
- D.M.
Charming it pink and folding it into yet another flower shape, he sent it on its way and waited for her response. Nearly an hour later, he still hadn't heard anything, and it was driving him crazy.
"She's the Minister for Magic, for Merlin's sake," he mumbled to himself as he returned his attention to the list of questions Brown had answered. "She may not have time for silly things like a conversation about a Quidditch match. She told you that Mondays are always bad for her."
But something still felt off, even after the way their conversation had ended on Saturday afternoon.
Nothing had appeared in the Sunday Prophet, and he was grateful for that. Weasley was sure to be angry and a photo of them together might have set him off spectacularly.
A paper crane landed gracefully on his desk before lunchtime.
Eagerly, he unfolded it, wanting to see what she had to say. However, he was disappointed. There was only one line written on the parchment.
Very busy today — no time to talk.
He ran his fingertips over her neat handwriting, staring at the way her y's looped. It almost looked like she'd hesitated to write some of the words.
Draco couldn't leave it at that. Rather than accepting her brush off, he took out another piece of parchment and wrote a second note.
Understood, but what about this evening?
Or maybe lunch tomorrow?
The Quaffle's in your hands, Granger.
- D.M.
His quill hesitated. He wanted to add a little joke — something like "My hoops are unguarded, it'll be easy for you to score" — but it seemed a little too forward. Rather than overthinking it, he just folded it and sent it her way, hoping that she'd eventually speak to him.
Much more quickly, another response note made its way to his desk.
We can have lunch tomorrow. Noontime, if that works for you.
Bring me the pasta we had last week, and we'll talk.
- H.G.
Draco smiled.
Her request was a very simple one to fulfill, and he was already looking forward to sitting across her desk, talking and sharing a meal. He hoped it was a sign that she was willing to move past their little miscommunication.
The next day, Amelia smiled up at Draco, greeting him warmly. "She's already free. Go right in."
"Thank you," Draco replied, nodding.
"Oh, and Mr Malfoy? I'm sorry I lied last week, but she was—"
"Nothing to worry about. I like that you guard her schedule carefully. Someone needs to make sure that she doesn't get taken advantage of by everyone in the wizarding world. She only has so much time to spare."
And then he stepped into the Minister's office.
Granger looked different today. She was wearing makeup and her hair was pulled back, a curly ponytail draped over one shoulder. Her robes had been hung on the back of her chair, leaving her in a Muggle dress. It was navy blue and sleeveless, the straps covering the entirety of her shoulders.
When she saw him in the doorway, he could've sworn her eyes brightened the tiniest amount, flashing with something he couldn't quite put a name to.
"Hey," she greeted, slowly rising from her seat and smoothing her skirt down. "Thanks for picking up lunch."
"Well, whatever the Minister wants, she should get," he teased, smirking at her. "What good is it being the most powerful witch in Britain otherwise?"
"You know very well I do not abuse my post."
"Unless it's taking advantage of free Quidditch tickets."
"Those are supposedly a perk of the job, Malfoy. It was in my contract and everything," she replied with a smile.
Moving around the desk, she gestured to a small alcove in the corner behind them. There was a table and two chairs in the small space, and he knew they hadn't been there last week.
"I added a little sitting area," Hermione explained, casting a quick Scourgify on the surface. "I thought it might be nice to separate work and my lunch, be able to truly step away."
"It's a great idea," he answered. "And so much better than going down to the cafeteria. It's always so busy."
With a nod, she claimed one of the chairs, settling in while Draco unpacked the contents of the takeaway bag. "I'd never be left alone. Can you imagine if Percy Weasley caught sight of me?"
"Well, he is family, Granger. They're always the hardest to get rid of."
As soon as Draco had taken his seat, she conjured two glasses of water and started to open the containers of Italian food.
"I suppose you're right. Ron's family seems to think they're entitled to more of my time than anyone else," she said. "Except maybe you."
His head snapped up, and a wave of relief flooded through him when he realised she was smiling, teasing him.
"Well, thanks to that wanker in Hogsmeade, we haven't really had the chance to discuss Brown or your husband or Friday morning."
She sighed. "Can we just pretend that Friday and the weekend never happened? Go back to… whatever we were before I mucked it all up?"
"Granger, you didn't—"
"I did," she interrupted. "I tried to kiss you without thinking about how it would affect everyone involved. Like Ron and the kids and you. We had only been talking for a week and I got carried away—"
"Stop," Draco said, his hand finding her knee beneath the table. He squeezed, drawing her attention back to him. "There's absolutely no reason for you to be embarrassed, Granger. If anyone should be, it's me. I wanted to kiss you, too. I just — I chickened out."
Her hand settled over his. "You wanted to kiss me?"
"I did. I wanted to kiss you after Quidditch, but you were completely pissed and it seemed a bit forward."
She snorted a laugh but didn't look away.
"Well, none of that matters now," she sighed.
Draco's heart stopped. "What? Why?"
"I'm not sure what you said to Ron on Friday night, and I don't want to know, but he's making things a little difficult for me at the moment."
His brow furrowed. "How so?"
"Well, we're divorced, but we never worked out an official custody agreement," she explained, her eyes misting. "He said that if you and I — if we — he doesn't want you around when the kids are at my place, and he said he'll fight for sole custody."
"No judge would grant that," Draco scoffed. "You're the Minister—"
"I know that, but I also don't want to get into a very public battle with him."
His stomach turned. That bastard had already lied to her, cheated on her, and made her suppress who she truly was for years. Now he was holding their children over her head.
"Hermione—"
"Don't," she said, stopping him. "It's just easier if we pretend that almost kiss never happened. At least until he and I figure some things out."
"Don't let him do this to you," Draco stated. "Don't let him control your life with the kids. Everyone knows who you are and that you're a good mother."
Granger shook her head. "You know it's not that simple."
"So, what? That's it? We just pretend that we never had lunch at all?"
When she didn't answer, Draco started to stand. Hermione panicked and jumped to her feet.
"Where are you going?"
"I'm going back to the DMLE. I wouldn't want Weasley to catch me here—"
"No, I didn't mean I wanted you to go. I just — we need to talk about this!"
Draco's hands settled on his hips. "It sounds like you've already made up your mind, so what's the point of staying?"
"I want to talk about it," she replied. "It's just not easy for me."
"You don't really want to talk about it. You just said that you wanted us to pretend it never happened, that we didn't feel anything."
"For now—"
"What are you going to do? Get Potter involved?"
She shook her head adamantly. "No, I was going to talk to Ron—"
"And how long are you thinking it'll take you to convince him that I'm good enough for you?" Draco asked, looking her in the eyes. "Because, let me tell you, he's never going to be okay with you moving on."
Hermione blinked rapidly, but she didn't say anything.
Stepping forward, he did something completely reckless. His hands settled on either side of her face and he looked down into her eyes.
"Well, Granger, let me make it easier for you. I'll stay away so you don't rock the boat with Weasley, but I'm going to do one thing before I leave because I can't just keep wondering."
And he kissed her the way he'd been imagining — like it would be her last first kiss. He claimed her lips, his own insistent and bruising against hers. His tongue swiped along the seam of her mouth and she parted for him, allowing him to kiss her deeply. Properly.
The breathy sounds escaping her made him lose control. His hands dropped from her face and roamed down her body, pulling her closer when they landed on her arse. He could feel her fingernails biting into his chest, her hands sandwiched between them.
His blood started to rush south, making him feel dizzy with want. Before his cock could take over, though, Granger pushed on his chest lightly, breaking the kiss.
Her fingers pressed against her lips. "I can't. Draco, I can't—"
He took a step back. "I'm sorry—I just had to know."
There were tears in her eyes again, but he knew he couldn't be the one to wipe them away. She wanted to forget their friendship — or whatever it had been — had ever happened.
His last resort — kissing her, showing her that he wanted her — hadn't swayed her decision.
She was choosing to fall victim to Weasley's wants again.
Running a hand through his hair, he started to turn away. She stifled a sound, like she'd been kicked, and he felt his heart squeeze.
"I'm sorry, Granger."
She didn't say a word as he left the office, but he felt a seismic shift in their relationship, and it shook him to his core.
That afternoon, Draco told Potter he needed a few days off for Scorpius' homecoming.
Since Lavender Brown had confessed to everything, there wasn't much they had to do to wrap up the case, and he hadn't taken time off since Scorpius' Christmas holidays. With a knowing look, Potter nodded and told him he'd see him on Monday.
However, staying home from work meant being in the Manor, and he paced the halls endlessly. Astoria's portrait looked at him with concern, but she didn't say anything, always preferring to let him come to her when there was something on his mind.
But he couldn't talk to her about Granger. It felt all sorts of wrong, especially when he couldn't stop thinking about the kiss.
Fuck, he wished it had gone on longer, that he'd lifted her up, wrapped her legs around him… Made her want to take it further, take a chance on him.
But there was no point in wishing.
He had heard her loud and clear when she said 'for now', but he didn't want to pine after her. She was the one who'd started all of this, and now she was backpedaling. There was no possible universe where Ron Weasley would be okay with Hermione and Draco being in a relationship, and she had to have known that ahead of time.
Draco let out a sigh. He didn't even want to keep thinking about it. No, instead of fixating on what could've been, he needed to find something else to do.
Somewhere else to go.
"Mr Malfoy, you said?"
The woman — the estate agent — held her hand out to shake.
"Yes. It's nice to meet you, Ms…"
She gave him a wide, charming smile, flashing her pearly white teeth. "Jones. Miranda Jones. Your solicitor — Mr Thomas — said you wanted to look at a few flats within London, yes?"
"That's correct," Draco answered, giving her his full attention.
"And no budget limitations?"
He smirked. "No, none at all. I'd like to see the best possible properties."
"And where do you live currently?" she asked, her eyes sparkling at the thought of her commission.
"Wiltshire. I've lived in the same Manor house my entire life. I'm ready for a change."
Miranda nodded, fumbling the little device in her hands. It had a screen like the telly in Granger's flat, and he saw images of homes flashing by. Her thumbs started pressing little letters, and he tried not to watch, but he was fascinated.
"And what prompted this change?"
Draco swallowed hard. "My wife passed away last year around this time."
Her head snapped up. "Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that. Are you—Is it just you now?"
"I have a son. He's fourteen and is at… school most of the year."
"That sounds lonely."
I thought that maybe we could be alone together.
His words to Granger from their very first lunch echoed in the back of his mind, but he forced them down.
"It can be, but my work keeps me busy a lot of the time."
"Good," she replied. "I'm glad to hear it. Just give me a moment and we can get down to business."
She continued looking at the photos of flats on the little device, occasionally shaking her head or nodding to herself. Draco felt uncomfortable standing in the office, but she'd not offered him a seat. Silently, he thought it was incredibly rude. Biting his tongue, he appraised her, trying to figure out if there was any possible way she could be good at her job. She barely looked old enough to be out of Hogwarts.
Before he could think on it for too long, she said, "So there are a few places that jump out at me immediately. Do you want a classic style? Or something more modern?"
"Show me a bit of both. I'm really not quite sure what I'd be interested in, but I want to have an idea before my son arrives home for the summer holidays," he responded. "I need a change, but I'm not sure he'll feel the same."
She nodded and paused her scrolling. "Okay. I have a few ideas." Pursing her lips, she said, "How big is your manor?"
Draco felt himself reddening. "It's, uh, it's quite large. I'm not sure of the specifics—"
"Five bedrooms? Seven?"
"Ten," he admitted. "And all with accompanying bath."
The estate agent didn't even bat an eyelash. "Servants' quarters?"
Thinking of Elphie's suite, he smiled. "You could say that."
"So, over 2,500 square metres?"
"Definitely."
"I'm not sure you're going to want to look at flats, Mr. Malfoy," Miranda began, her thumbs working on the screen again. "I think the amount of downsizing would likely terrify you. Have you considered a townhouse?"
"I've been to a friend's flat," he replied, thinking of Granger's cosy space. "It seemed adequate."
"Think about when your son is home, though. And what about when he has a girlfriend or a wife? His own children? What if you want to entertain?"
Chewing his cheek, he said, "Okay. I see your point. Perhaps we can see a bit of both, then. A townhouse, a flat…"
"Do you have a driver here with you?"
"I just walked over. I'm staying with a friend in the city," he lied smoothly, wondering why he hadn't thought to ask Dean the particulars about transport from location to location. "Can you arrange something? Or shall I?"
"Oh, it's no worry, Mr Malfoy. I'll take care of it," she said, holding the device to her ear and requesting a towncar after a moment's pause. "They should be here in about fifteen minutes, unless traffic is horrid. Until then, let me show you some photos, and we can decide where to go first."
Miranda had been right.
Every flat they looked at seemed cramped or wasn't up to his standards. One, though spacious and very modern, looked like it was in a Muggle shopping centre, and he couldn't stomach the thought of living there, even with Apparition and Floo travel. The idea of someone standing directly in the walkway outside of his door made him uneasy.
"I've arranged two townhouses," Miranda said, watching him carefully in the back of the towncar. He'd been growing more and more agitated with every trip. "One is in Victoria, near the Belgravia line. The other is in Knightsbridge."
Draco nodded, unsure of what any of that meant.
"The Victoria townhouse has five bedrooms and five bathrooms. It's a lot for two people, but it's been modernised and is in an area where I think you'll feel very comfortable," she continued. "Do you have a servant who will be staying with you?"
"I do," he answered, though he hated to think of Elphie that way. "I have a housekeeper."
"Well, there will be plenty of space for her, too. It's about 350 square metres."
Draco watched scenery through the window and wondered where this townhouse was in relation to the Ministry and Granger's flat. He'd never bothered to learn the geography of Muggle London since he could easily Apparate to wherever he needed to be.
When the car came to stop and the driver got out to open their doors, Draco looked around. The row of houses was both brick and white, a stark contrast to the dark stone of Malfoy Manor. It felt warm and inviting already, even with the black-painted front doors and railings. There were plenty of large windows on each unit.
"So I'd have neighbours on either side of me?"
"The unit for sale is on the end luckily, so only on one side," Miranda said with a smile, walking towards the front steps of the rightmost door.
When she crossed the threshold, she gestured for him to follow. She led him through a reception hall, a dining room, and finally into a kitchen. There were two wall ovens and two cooktops, and while it seemed excessive, he knew that Elphie would be excited once she learned how to use the Muggle appliances.
Miranda gave him more details than he could ever possibly remember and, honestly, he blocked a lot of them out, preferring to run his fingers over every surface and examine things closely. Everything was shiny and modernised, much like it was in Granger's flat. Each room was flooded with natural light and everything looked bright and cheery.
"So there are bedrooms on the lower level — two of them — that would be perfect for your housekeeper," she continued, pointing downwards at the stairs. "And there is a large sitting room and formal living room on the first floor. Which would you like to see first?"
"We can make our way up. I'd be renovating to suit what she'd like anyway."
As they progressed through the house, Draco couldn't even believe how different he felt. This townhouse felt happy, if a building could feel such a way. And there was so much space when compared to the flats she'd shown him.
With excitement, Miranda led him to the next floor and said, "And this would be your bedroom. It's the master and it has a very wonderful en suite bathroom, complete with a dressing room."
When he stepped into the room, he smiled. While smaller than the master bedroom at Malfoy Manor, it was still very large and would suit him nicely.
"What's the asking price on this place?" Draco asked, and her eyes lit up.
"Just over eight million pounds," she replied, like she was telling him the price of a cup of coffee. "We're close to Buckingham Palace."
Doing the calculation in his head, Draco nearly sucked in a surprised breath. It was nearly two million Galleons. However, it was spacious and needed next to no modifications, and money wasn't really a roadblock for him.
"And there are more bedrooms?"
Miranda nodded. "Two more on the top level. I know there are a lot of stairs in this place, but you look fit enough—"
Draco laughed uncomfortably, interrupting her compliment. "Thank you, but I'm not concerned about the stairs."
As he looked around the room, he tried not to imagine what Hermione's reaction would be. Hell, even if she hadn't decided to end things before they really began, it might have never amounted to anything, but he could still picture her reclining on the bed, standing in front of the window with a cup of tea in her hands.
"Right, well, I'd like to see the other bedrooms," he said with a sigh. "One of them would likely be my son's and I want to make sure it's large enough."
Miranda smiled and led the way.
Deep down, he already knew this was the right place for him — if Scorpius was willing to move.
On Thursday morning, Draco woke with a start.
A sharp tapping at his window broke the pre-dawn silence, and he knew it was an owl. And an owl at this time could only be coming from one place.
The DMLE.
Quickly, he got to his feet and made his way over to the window, letting the bird in. It extended a leg and, right away, Draco knew the letter hadn't come from work. There was an origami flower — the same pattern he'd been folding for Granger — tied carefully to the owl's leg. After casting a Tempus Charm, he realised it was going on four in the morning, and he wondered why she was up so late.
With a sigh, he took the note and started to unfold it.
Her handwriting wasn't as neat as usual, and there were a few water spots on the page.
Dear Draco,
I am so, so sorry. I can't stop thinking about how things went on Tuesday and I haven't been able to sleep. I know you're angry with me, but I had to get this all out. I'm hoping that you'll read it rather than just chucking it in the bin or using a quick Incendio.
When I invited you to lunch on your birthday, I had hoped things would progress much, much slower. Yes, I was already interested in you, but since your loss is still so fresh, I never imagined that you would reciprocate my feelings so quickly. And, to be honest, I didn't even know if I really had feelings or if I was just attracted to you.
But then lunch went well, and we had such a good time at Quidditch. You were so thoughtful and caring, making sure I got home and got to bed safely when I drank too much. If the press had caught a glimpse of me drunk, it would've been all over every single paper. You were a perfect gentleman, too.
You were so great after I found out about Ron's indiscretions. I can't even describe how much that meant to me. While I wish you had been the one to tell me, I understand why you didn't, and your devotion to your job is another admirable quality.
Every single moment I spent with you felt easy. Easier than I ever felt with Ron or anyone else. I could be myself with no hesitation. You never expected me to be a certain way. All your prejudices were gone, and I loved the way you looked at me. I could see the desire in your eyes, even when you tried to hide it. Waking up with you on the sofa felt more natural than waking up in bed beside Ron, especially in the latter years of our marriage. I tried to kiss you because I genuinely wanted to.
When you turned away, I was so embarrassed. I thought for sure that I had misread every single second between us and put meaning onto little actions that had been meaningless, so I ran. I spent Friday with Minerva and then with Rose and Hugo, and I tried to forget that I'd made a fool of myself. And, because of who I am as a person, I overthought everything. So many thoughts went flying through my head.
Even though you'd effectively rebuffed me in my mind, I still asked the kids what they would think if I started dating again. Hugo was quiet, but he's young. Rose just shrugged and told me that she could tell things had been changing for years. She's always been very emotionally intuitive. After we saw you in Hogsmeade, she knew that I had been asking about you specifically, and she reassured me that she and Hugo would both be fine, that I deserved to be happy and start over if I wanted to.
Ron turned up at my flat on Sunday morning with a bouquet of daisies and started apologising to me for everything that had gone wrong in our marriage. I listened — in retrospect, I probably shouldn't have — and accepted his apology. I didn't want to fight with him, especially since the kids will be home today. Somehow, he took that as interest in a reconciliation and tried to kiss me. When I stopped him, he got angry and went on and on about how I had time for you but never made time for him when we were married.
From there, it just escalated and he threatened to fight me for custody of the kids. I know that I'd win, but I don't want to put my children through that — through the public embarrassment and everything that would come out about our pasts. And I don't want Ron speaking to the press and making things up about you, Draco. I wouldn't be able to bear it.
I know I'm rambling and you already know most of this but, gods, I'm trying to work it all out in my head.
All I know for sure is that I miss you. When I think about how I'll never receive one of these little flowers again, my stomach drops and feels like it's going to fall out of my body. I couldn't eat the food you brought yesterday, even though it's amazing and probably my favourite thing ever.
And that kiss... That's part of what's keeping me up tonight. I can still feel your hands on me, even though it's been over a day. I wanted more. So much more, but that would've made this even harder.
I tried to go to the DMLE today to see you, but Harry told me you'd taken the rest of the week off. And then I thought about just being brave and coming to apologise in person, but I was scared to. I didn't think you'd like it if I came through your Floo unannounced. I just had to get all of this out and onto parchment. I'm not expecting you to forgive me or to even respond.
I'm so sorry I hurt you. I hope that one day we can move past it.
Hermione
Holding the parchment in his hand, Draco read it through a second time. Looking out over the horizon, he wished that the owl hadn't flown off immediately after delivering it. If he'd been penning a response, he wouldn't be contemplating rushing over to his Floo and ringing her flat. Or, better yet, stepping through into her flat uninvited to give her the more she had said she wanted. If the memory of the kiss was keeping her up, she might cave — might welcome more from him.
But then he reread the final line.
She hoped that they could move past it.
He wasn't sure if she meant the fight or his hurt or the way they had almost been something, and he didn't want to risk being rejected again. Surely everything she had said on Tuesday still held true, especially given the fact that she'd said she didn't want her children to be embarrassed by the things that would be said in a custody battle.
With a sigh, he folded the parchment back into the flower shape and set it on his nightstand.
Draco was sure the thought of her lips would keep him up for the rest of the night, too.