NOTE: Sorry this took me so long to post! Thanks to GoldDustWoman3 for mentioning it in their review!
After dropping Rose off at school, Hermione went to the Burrow to deliver her things to Ron. Molly answered the door and pulled Hermione into a long, warm embrace.
"It's so good to see you, dear." She looked like she meant it, and Hermione smiled, feeling a little of the tension in her shoulders ease.
"I'm dropping Rose's things off with Ron." She held up the bag.
"Of course, come in." Molly led her into the kitchen. "Can I get you anything? Have you eaten breakfast? Tea, perhaps?"
Hermione smiled. Molly was most comfortable showing affection by feeding people. "I'm not staying. But thank you."
Molly fixed her with a piercing gaze. "I expect you to come by for tea soon, dear. You're still family, and as such, you're required to come and see me now and again."
"Thank you. That sounds lovely." She appreciated the gesture, even while knowing it would likely be awhile before she tried it.
They heard footsteps come thundering down the stairs. "Is that Hermione?" Ron's head looked around the corner, his gaze landing on her. "Brilliant. I've got that box for you, remember?"
"Oh, yes. Wonderful."
Ron fully entered the room. "Rose make it to school, then?"
She chuckled, realizing she could allow herself to be amused by Ron rather than annoyed. "Of course she did. Here's her bag."
Ron took it and set it down on a chair. "The box is by the door. Are you staying?" When she declined, he motioned for her to follow.
"Goodbye, Molly. It was nice seeing you."
Molly waved with a misty smile. "You too, Hermione."
There was a decent-sized box sitting by the door. Ron pointed to it. "Just a few things I found, mostly from that closet I told you about."
He picked up the box and set it on the sofa. The top was open, and Hermione saw mostly things she hadn't missed or even remembered owning. "Thanks, Ron. I'll see you on Sunday. Shall I pick Rose up from here?
He shrugged. "I'll see her through the Floo, if you'd rather."
"Sounds good." She hefted the box and motioned toward the fireplace. "Speaking of the Floo, would you help me out?"
"Oh, right, yeah." He followed her to the fireplace and grabbed a handful of Floo powder. "Right. See you Sunday, then."
She smiled. "Yes. Sunday."
Ron threw the powder into the flames and shouted, "Hermione's flat!"
With a whoosh, she was gone. When she stepped out into her flat, she set the box down and set about her morning chores. It wasn't until after lunch that she paid any attention to the box. Without much thought, she started to unpack everything, deciding to toss most of the items. After all, she didn't remember most of them and hadn't missed the items she did recall.
However, at the bottom of the box, she found what looked like a package. Frowning, she pulled it out. It was clearly a package someone had sent, but there was no return address or name. She turned it over, looking for more clues, but found nothing. The heft and feel of it screamed book to her, and a thrill of excitement shot through her. The only marking other than her name and address was a stamp, indicating the package has been sent via owl post. Judging by the design, it hadn't been sent recently; the owl post changed their postage designs at least once a year, and she didn't recognize this one.
Excited for reasons she couldn't understand, Hermione carefully tore back some of the paper. When she'd uncovered a decent part of the cover, recognition dawned, and her heart clenched painfully in her chest.
It was certainly a book; in fact, it looked like the exact edition of Pride and Prejudice her mother had given her. Her heart was pounding, her fingers shaking. She stopped, pausing on the verge of ripping open the paper. She was almost afraid to finish opening it for fear of being let down yet again. But she had to; she couldn't not look. Her fingers trembled as she painstakingly undid the careful packaging, revealing at last the exact same book from her mother. She thought her heart might jump through her chest.
She took four deep breaths before she could work up the courage to open the cover. When she did, her breath caught in her throat.
There it was!
Hermione,
May you someday find your Darcy and avoid the Wickhams of this world. I love you with all my heart.
Mum
Even though the note was short, she had trouble reading to the end before tears obscured her vision. How was this possible? Where had the book come from? She looked again at the handwriting on the outside of the package, but it wasn't Draco's. Still, who else could have sent it?
She flipped through the book, looking for some sign, and found a folded slip of parchment in the middle. It was right in the place where Elizabeth was reading the letter from Darcy, the pivotal moment where she began to see him in a new way. That couldn't be coincidence.
Upon opening the note, she recognized the handwriting immediately.
Hermione,
I doubt there's another book from 1989 with an inscription bearing your name in the world. I do hope this is the right one nonetheless.
I am sorry I didn't deliver this in person. I tried. But perhaps it's better this way. I regret to inform you that I won't be attending your wedding next week. I don't think my heart could bear to watch you pledge your life to another.
Consider this an early wedding gift.
Yours, always,
Draco
All she could do was stare at the words in front of her, and if breathing wasn't an automatic thing, she'd have completely forgotten to do it.
Draco had found the book; it was the only thing that made sense. Then he had tried to give it to her in person, but ended up mailing it instead. His note—it couldn't possibly mean what she thought it meant. It didn't really suggest that he cared for her, possibly even loved her—did it?
Five rereads later and she could still scarcely breathe. She couldn't entertain that he might have had feelings for her. No. What stood out the loudest was that he said he'd tried to deliver the book in person. That's where she was stuck.
And since she had lived with Ron before they married, he was the logical place to start. She grabbed the book and haphazardly wrapped it back in the brown paper, then Apparated directly back to the Burrow and started banging on the door.
"Ron!" She bellowed as loud as she possibly could. "Ron! Get out here, now!"
Fifteen seconds later, he burst through the door, his eyes frantic. "What's wrong? What's happened?"
"What's this?" She held up the hastily rewrapped book.
Ron's expression was one of alarm, and it took him a moment to glance at what she was holding, though his gaze flitted right back to hers. "What?"
"This package. The one in my hand." He finally took a moment to really look. "It was in the box of things you gave me earlier. Someone tried to deliver this to me before we got married. But they couldn't, and I don't know why. That means you were there, at the house, not me. Do you remember?"
He blinked at her, eyes wide. "You know you scared me half to death, right? I thought something dreadful had happened to you. Or Rose."
"I'm sorry. I truly am. But please, Ron. Think. This is important." She'd never even told Ron about the book from her mother in the first place; there was no point in explaining it all now, and she couldn't spend the time on it.
He scratched his head. "I... don't remember anybody trying to hand me a book wrapped in paper? Why wouldn't I have taken it?"
Maybe Draco hadn't even bothered trying when she'd been away. "But you received it from the owl. It was sometime right before our wedding."
"That was over ten years ago! I don't remember some random owl. The book had your name on it, right? You ordered so many books over the years. If I received it, I would have set it with your other mail. I'm sure that was no different; there was nothing to suggest I needed to hand deliver it. I probably just... set it aside for you, and since things were so hectic, it must have gotten shoved somewhere and forgotten. I found it wedged behind some furniture, no idea what it was. Since it had your name on it, I put it in the box. I don't know anything more about it, I promise."
She nodded frantically, gripping the book with white knuckles. What was so disconcerting, so alarming, was that she'd only ever told one person about her book hunt. And now this book appeared in a box of old things. She couldn't wait until she was back home. "Yes. I believe you. Thank you." When she started to turn away, he called her back.
"Are you alright? Really and truly alright?"
"Yes!" She beamed at him, her joy threatening to burst through her skin. "Everything is more than fine, Ron. I'll see you later!"
As soon as she got home, Hermione pulled down the letters from Draco and the notes she'd taken on them. Rose's words echoed in her mind: he came back for you!
Merlin, what if she'd been right? But then... No, Draco wouldn't have left it unsaid. He wouldn't have seriously given her a note a week before her wedding telling her he cared about her. Would he?
She didn't know. All she knew was that she had to see him as soon as possible. A glance at the clock told her it was only early afternoon; he'd surely be teaching, but she couldn't rest until she'd spoken with him.
What she meant to say to him, however, she had no idea. She didn't give a single thought to anything but getting to Hogwarts, grabbing only her beaded bag, the book, and a light jacket.
When she arrived outside the gates, she sent Minerva a Patronus, asking for permission to enter the grounds. Less than a minute later, she received an affirmative reply, and the gates opened before her. It was all she could do not to run across the grounds.
His classroom was in the dungeon, of course, and she hurried that way, ignoring the stares and whispers of students; belatedly her mind registered a call of, "Hello, Aunt Hermione!" from one of her many nieces or nephews.
Only one thought drove her: Draco might have once cared for her, while for years she had believed him to be indifferent. Now she had to know the truth.
When she arrived at the door, her heart was pounding. He was indeed teaching, so she waited in the hall until he dismissed the class. Once all of the students had left the Potions classroom, she closed her eyes a moment to settle her nerves. It didn't work. Best to get it over with, then.
With her hand trembling slightly, she opened the door and peeked her head in. Draco was behind his desk, wand pointed at the blackboard, and a new set of instructions appeared there as he swept his wand over the board. She knocked when he was halfway through, and he paused and turned around. She had no idea what he was expecting to find, but it certainly hadn't been her. His eyes went wide with surprise.
She gave him a small wave. "Hi."
Draco turned back to the board and quickly finished what he'd been doing. Then he shut the book he'd had in his hand and spun around, his expression neutral once more. "Granger. To what do I owe this unexpected visit?" He motioned for her to come fully into the room.
Hermione closed the door softly behind her but didn't move much beyond it. "I… I was hoping we could talk."
He frowned slightly. "Talk. I… what about? I'm afraid I've got another class starting in about ten minutes. Is that enough time?"
"I doubt it, no." She should have thought this through, but her first impulse had been to fly to him, to speak to him, to understand just what he'd meant. Of course he'd be in the middle of teaching—that was his job—and it was a weekday. It was already mid-afternoon; another class would likely be two hours more. "What about dinner? Could we meet in Hogsmeade?"
Draco cut a somewhat imposing figure in his teacher's robes. They billowed around him, the black a sharp contrast to his pale white hair. His demeanor wasn't as unfriendly as Snape's had been, and she wondered briefly what kind of teacher he was. His brow furrowed very slightly but he nodded. "Absolutely. But is everything alright? Are you alright?"
She thought of the book, tucked in her bag, and smiled. "I'm quite fine. I'll see you tonight, then. Seven-thirty? How about The Silver Kettle?"
"Yes. That's fine. I'll make it work." He smiled distractedly. "See you then, Granger."
Hermione left the room feeling like she might be sick. Now she only had to get through the next five hours without losing her mind. She thought about stopping in to see Minerva, but a glimpse of her reflection in a picture made her freeze in the middle of the corridor. She was wearing some old denims and a faded jumper, and her hair was up in a messy bun. It made her cringe to think that this was how Draco had seen her, when he'd looked so put together. The fact that he'd agreed to have dinner with her was astounding. However, all she could focus on was his easy acquiescence; it was a testament to how well he knew her that he'd agreed to meet without question and didn't press for more information.
One thing was certain: she needed to change. Sending a second Patronus to the Headmistress to let her know she was leaving, Hermione made her way back out of the school and up the lawn. Her thoughts were still going faster than she could process them, so she forced herself to focus on the task immediately before her—which was easier said than done.
Once back in the solitude of her flat, Hermione didn't know what to wear. She didn't want to give him the idea that it was a date, but she wanted to look nice considering the note she'd found in the book.
She took it out once more and reread it, feeling butterflies swooping in her stomach. It had been so long since she'd felt anything like this, nervous about having dinner with a friend. Although, his note all but said that he'd once wanted more than friendship. Only she wasn't meeting him just to talk about the note but the book, as well. Mainly the book, really, because it had been so many years since they'd been in a position to be more than friends.
The note set her heart racing again, so she tucked it back into the book and returned to staring at her closet. Finally, she chose a pair of dark, fitted denims and a sheer, flowery blouse. Under it she wore a camisole, and since it was February, she put on her pea coat. Ankle boots and her beaded bag completed the look.
It was almost time for her to leave, and she felt as ready as she possibly could be. Before Apparating, she checked to be sure the book was in her bag for the dozenth time, letting out a slow breath when she felt it safely where she'd put it.
Once in Hogsmeade, she felt a fresh wave of nervousness. But she could do this; whatever the note meant, it was years in the past, and she had to know about the book and how he'd found it and when he had given it to her.
Draco was already there, waiting outside the restaurant. She paused to take him in, her heart pounding once more. Ever since eighth year, she'd found him attractive, and seeing him now without those voluminous teacher's robes made her breath hitch. Of course she had no way of knowing if he'd dressed up for her or if this is what he'd been wearing under his robes earlier. He had on a pair of dark red trousers, a white button-up shirt, and a camel-colored leather jacket. His hands were in his pockets, and he was leaning casually against the light pole.
Hermione took a deep breath and plastered on a smile as she approached.
He spotted her and pushed off the pole, his eyes widening slightly as he took her in. He had to be noticing that she'd changed, and she immediately wondered if she should regret it. He'd have questions, at the very least.
"Thank you so much, Draco. I appreciate this. I hope you aren't missing anything at the school."
He shrugged. "Absolutely nothing interesting is happening, I assure you."
"Shall we?" She motioned toward the door and he nodded, darting ahead of her to open it for her.
Hermione felt more butterflies assault her but she ignored them. They were shown to a table and given menus. Draco didn't even look at his for more than a few seconds before setting it down. "I've been here a few times. I usually get their special."
"What else is good?" She was thankful for something to do, since she could feel his eyes on her, knowing he had to be wondering what she'd wanted to talk to him about.
"The filet is always excellent, and the chicken isn't bad."
A waiter appeared then with two glasses of water, and since Draco knew what he wanted, Hermione ordered the special as well. That was easier than making choices right now. Her mind was a furious machine of thoughts, unable to stop and focus on anything right now; all she wanted was to get straight to the point: the book—and the note. There was no way this dinner could be as momentous for him as it was for her, at least not yet.
"And would you like something to drink?"
"I'll have a merlot, please."
Hermione nodded. "The same."
Draco gave her a curious look but didn't say anything. Hermione wished she could know what he was thinking; it must have been strange indeed to find her outside his classroom, asking to speak with him—but she didn't want to start and have to stop again, and now that their food had been ordered, she waited until their wine had been supplied. As difficult as it would be to broach the topic of the note, she was too excited about the book to wait a moment longer.
"So, how have you been?" Draco sipped casually from his water glass.
Hermione's nerves fluttered wildly—from dread or anticipation, she didn't know. Rather than trust herself to speak coherently, she instead pulled the book out of her bag and set it on the table between them. Then she gently nudged it toward him.
Draco's eyes went wide when he recognized it, his gaze slowly lifting to meet hers briefly before taking the book and opening it. He read the inscription from Hermione's mother, his eyes softening and a small smile playing on his lips. She wondered at his expression, imagining that he was remembering the moment he'd first seen the words her mother had penned. And while he was surprised to see the book again, he wasn't anxious, and somehow that helped ease the thoughts spilling forth from her lips. The book was safe; the importance of it was separate from her feelings for the wizard before her.
"I've got an interesting story to tell you." He glanced up at her as she spoke, curious. "Before today, I didn't know that book existed."
The tenderness in his expression vanished, quickly replaced with shock. "You what?"
"I'd never seen that book before today."
He looked back down at it as though he, too, was seeing it for the first time. Then his cheeks went slightly pink, likely from remembering the note that he'd tucked inside. "Oh, um, Granger—"
For an instant, she hesitated, sad to see that he was now unsettled, whereas before he'd been so calm. But she couldn't stop now and barreled on now, ready to get out the speech she'd prepared. "Ron had the job of cleaning out the house, and he found a few things that belonged to me, including that book, still in its wrapping, tucked in the back of a closet somewhere. He doesn't know how it got there, didn't even know what it was. He saw my name on it, deduced that it was a book, and put it in a box of things to give to me. I picked it up when I dropped Rose's things at the Burrow for the weekend. I opened it when I got home, extremely curious, because there was no name on it to suggest where it had come from. Draco—I can't believe you found the book!"
Closing it, he lightly, almost reverently, ran his fingers down the cover. Then he placed it back between them. "I kept looking for it."
"Obviously! How, though! I want to know how you found it!" She leaned forward on the table, unable and unwilling to hide her excitement. She hadn't been able to stop thinking about it all day, picturing him walking into a nondescript used bookstore and checking, like they'd done so many times before. What must he have thought when he discovered it?
Draco took another long drink of water, then looked her in the eye and shrugged. "You know me. I applied the considerable resources at my disposal to the problem. It took some time, but one of my researchers found it. Just before your wedding, actually."
Her eyes went wide. "I've been wondering how it happened, imagining scenarios for how you discovered it. But what exactly are you saying? You sent people to bookstores to look for it?"
He quirked his lips, tapping the table with his long fingers. "Something like that."
"Will you tell me?" she pressed, trying not to resort to pleading—though she would if she had to.
"There was a bit more to it, but essentially, yes. I had someone create a list of all the used book stores in England, and then with a small team I hired for the task, we systematically combed through every one until it was discovered. I'd wanted to be the one to find it, naturally, but I wasn't. As soon as I had it in my hands, I wrapped it and tried to give it to you." His expression clouded at the memory. "I stopped by your house four times, but you were never home. I sort of gave up and sent it by owl post, wanting you to have it as a wedding gift."
The way he'd said 'wedding gift' had been laced with something she couldn't understand.
"A wedding gift."
He shrugged and looked toward the kitchen. "It was that or china. I figured you'd get plenty of the latter."
Her heart skipped a beat, and she cleared her throat. "Ron said he didn't remember anything about it. Nothing helpful, at least. He must have received it via owl and, somehow in all the hectic wedding bustle that followed, it got put somewhere and forgotten."
"I've always wondered." He smiled sadly to himself. "Since you never mentioned it. I'm glad to hear that you've got it now. Better late than never, I suppose."
The waiter brought their food and poured their wine. Draco took a healthy swig as soon as the waiter left them alone.
There were a few other tables occupied that evening, but they had one quiet corner to themselves for the time being. Hermione was glad because she didn't know what was going to happen next. She only knew that the time had come to discuss what else he'd sent with the book.
"Draco."
He dragged his gaze up to hers and sighed. "Hermione."
"You also left a note in the book."
"I did." He was eyeing his wine glass, then motioned for the waiter. "Will you bring us the bottle, please?"
"I'd be happy to, sir. I feel, however, that I should tell you—"
"I don't care how much it costs." Draco gave him a look and the waiter hurried off, returning moments later with a full bottle of the merlot. He refilled Draco's glass and left.
When they were alone again, Hermione pulled the note from her bag, her stomach in too many knots to eat quite yet. She had to get through this next part before she could relax. "You said you couldn't watch me marry Ron. Why not?"
"Right to it, then?" He chuckled wryly, taking another drink. "I… was in love with you. I had tried, multiple times, to express it, but the timing was always wrong. Even trying to deliver the book failed. I took it as a sign, of sorts. The note… was my attempt at one last effort, even though it wasn't how I wanted to tell you. When you never said anything and married him, I figured I had my answer."
Hermione's stomach dropped. It was one thing to assume that's what he'd meant, another thing entirely to hear from his own mouth that he'd been in love with her. She thought back to the days before her wedding. They'd been plagued with doubts and second thoughts, and her thoughts had turned to Draco more than once. She'd never received a reply to the invitation she'd sent, and she didn't know if he'd be coming. She'd never been able to decide if she wanted him to or not.
"I had no idea, Draco. I'm sorry I didn't get this until now."
"Nothing for it." He shrugged.
"Why didn't you ever say anything? You never even asked about the book!" She didn't think anything would have changed, even if he had—she'd been in love with Ron when they married—but she was curious.
He took another sip. "It's like I said. I had my answer. Mentioning the book would have led to discussing the note, and I didn't want to go through that."
"So all this time, you've thought I had turned you down."
"Hermione." He looked her straight in the eye this time. "It's fine. It was a long time ago."
Neither of them spoke for a few minutes, eating in strained yet somehow not awkward silence. Hermione watched, almost amused, as he took another two sips from his wine glass as the silence stretched on. Then he spoke, with an air like nothing had happened, as though he hadn't just confessed to having been in love with her. It was obvious he wasn't keen on dwelling on the note.
"How are things with you? Did Rose ever decide which of her treats she preferred?"
Hermione shook her head, too distracted to think about their interaction at Honeydukes. "I'm not sure."
"I can't quite believe she'll be starting at Hogwarts next year." His smile was so easy, so effortless, she began to feel certain that he couldn't possibly harbor any of his former feelings. "I remember the first Weasley I had in a class. That was… amusing for me." He smirked. "A brilliant student—George's son—but he definitely inherited his father's mischievous streak."
Hermione gave him a fazed look. "Well, Rose's name is Granger-Weasley."
He grinned. "Can I call her Miss Granger?"
She bristled at that; he'd always called her Granger, and she rather liked it. Of course, the times when he used her given name were even better, though they were few and far between. "No. Though I understand 'Granger-Weasley' is cumbersome. Miss Weasley will be fine."
"I'm only teasing. There's no Granger but you." Something in his eyes made her heart skip, but he returned to eating as though it were nothing.
Trying to emulate his calm, Hermione began to eat once again, forcing her heart to slow down. One minute they'd been discussing the book and the note, the next he was asking about Rose. How could he go from admitting he'd fancied her to something so casual with hardly a heartbeat between? Maybe that was the end of it for him, but she wasn't going to let the opportunity pass to take that conversation further. But maybe she needed to wait, so she cast around her mind for a safe topic.
"How's the year going? Do you still enjoy teaching as much as you did at first?" It had been a long time, at least a few years, since they'd discussed his work.
Draco's eyes lit up and he sat a little straighter. "I like it more, if you can believe it. I have finally settled into the job and really made it my own. You may remember that I tried a lot of things before the opportunity to teach presented itself, and I've never looked back or regretted it."
They sat in silence for a minute or two, Hermione desperately trying to think of something to say. "I'd like to hear the story of how you ended up teaching. It's not something I'd have pictured you doing."
"Nor I. I never expected to love teaching the way I do, though. It's extremely satisfying to be the one to impart information on a student and see them take that information, the bare bones, the currency of knowledge and wisdom, and see them light up because they made a connection or brewed a difficult, tricky potion successfully."
She could stare at him all night if he kept talking with such animation, such fire in his eyes. It was obvious that he truly loved what he did and cared about the process. The way his face lit up as he spoke, the easy way he smiled, told her even more than his words did.
"When Slughorn retired, he recommended me. I don't blame Minerva for looking for someone else, though. She knew that, while Slughorn had been a very good potioneer, he hadn't been an especially inspiring teacher. I think that, despite everything that happened, she still considered Snape to be the gold standard."
Hermione snorted. "He may have been brilliant but he was a terrible teacher."
"I can absolutely recognize that now." He gave her a pointed look. "The favoritism he showed was completely unprofessional. But he still saw something in me, something extra. He encouraged me all through school, gave me suggestions for extra work I could do to improve. While he may have been extra lenient on me in class, I still got an O in my O.W.L. and that had nothing to do with Snape. In sixth, I was progressively a train wreck, and seventh was... Horrible. But my work in eighth, my final project, all of the additional effort I put into potions, especially, led Slughorn to recommend me for his replacement. I know Minerva only came to me as a last resort, but I'd like to think I've at least met her minimum for excellence."
"I have no doubt about that. Working with you had always been a pleasurable experience." She thought back to their time together some seven years before.
"I won't argue with that." He grinned, then took another bite of his food after asking, "What about you? Are you still with the Ministry?"
Hermione sighed heavily. "Yes. It's… drudgery. I don't see how anybody stands it."
Draco barked a laugh. "I couldn't agree more."
"I think in something like Mysteries, I'd do well, but what I'm doing now is… akin to torture, honestly." She shook her head. "I'm only doing it because I'm on my own now, and I have to provide for myself. I was doing more contract work, taking jobs when I had the time, but they were so demanding of me, mentally and physically, that it wasn't a good fit when Ron and I separated. My job is more steady and reliable, but it's infinitely more boring."
"How long have you been separated?" There was a tightness in his voice, a strain, though not a negative one.
"Over a year. It was supposed to be temporary, while we worked on ourselves and our relationship, but… being apart made us both see that we weren't good together. Love isn't always enough, you know? I'd loved him once, but it hadn't been the long-term kind of love. It sparked and roared, but it was short-lived." She hadn't intended to be so open with him, but she felt so comfortable in his presence that it was easy to talk to him. They'd been great friends before, and she still trusted him implicitly.
"What would you do if you could do anything?" He looked at her pensively, and she knew he genuinely wanted to know. It wasn't a question intended to trap her, instead more like the things they used to write about.
Hermione met his gaze, her heart stuttering. Sometimes when she looked at him, it took her breath away. And now, with a slight, relaxed smile, his grey eyes warm, she found him incredibly attractive. "I… Well, there is something actually. Rose really brought it to mind recently, and it's been spinning in my head ever since." She laughed lightly, trying to dispel her nerves. Admitting this to Rose, arguably her biggest fan, was one thing. Telling him was completely different.
Draco waited, his expression expectant. "Go on. I know you've had ideas and thoughts about this."
"I have, though for a long time, I didn't think I could dream beyond what was right in front of me." This was it, the beginning of confessing it all. There was no one she trusted more with this piece of her than him, but coming on the heels of him admitting he'd once loved her was making her flustered and unsure. "I was content in my work before Ron and I separated, but then I needed something more steady. More consistent. Once she's in school, I can really think about doing more."
"Will you go back to consulting work?" He leaned back in his chair, his expression intent and focused. Her heart fluttered at his sincere inquiry and attention not only to her but her career as well. He had always taken the time to listen and encourage, and it was something she missed. Not to mention that he'd remembered the work she'd done before she had to choose something that kept her closer to home. Draco had always encouraged her to be herself, to go for what she wanted.
"I'm not sure." She ran her fingers along the edge of her napkin. "I did enjoy that work, but it's not what Rose brought to my attention. The thing is…" She trailed off, feeling her cheeks flush with premature embarrassment.
"Go on. I won't laugh." His prodding was gentle, and how he knew just what to say to put her at ease, she had no idea. It was the exact mix of pressure and encouragement, and even though it was such a small thing—saying this out loud—it was also huge for her, too.
"Right. Well, the truth is… I've always wanted to try for Minister of Magic." She pushed it all out in a rush, eager to have it said and done.
True to his word, he didn't laugh, but sat and watched her for a few seconds until he realized she wasn't going to say more. "That makes perfect sense, Hermione. I can easily see you in that position. You'd be excellent. You've got my vote." His smile was a bit cheeky but she knew he meant what he'd said.
She waved dismissively, cheeks burning more. "It's not something I've thought much about lately. But I think I will."
"Good. You should."
"Of course, someday beyond that, I'd like to own an old book store."
At that, he laughed, but it wasn't unkind. "Why can I see that option just as easily as the first?"
"I think I'm suited for both. I can easily imagine myself tucked away in the corner of a bookstore, with old wood floors and floor to ceiling shelves. There'd be books everywhere, and I would spend my days reading and organizing and helping people find just what they were looking for." She blushed again and took another sip of wine, though she knew it wouldn't help the heat in her cheeks. "I'd probably have a section devoted to books with inscriptions. But, of course, used books really don't pay the bills."
"Why not both? You can buy a bookstore after you retire from the Ministry."
"Well, now that we've got my whole future planned out, how about you? You've been awfully quiet in your public life. I haven't seen you in the papers since you and Astoria ended… what was it, three years ago?"
"Almost three years, yes. I try to make sure I don't wind up in those gossip rags." He sneered as he said it. "What good have they ever done anybody? They're rubbish."
"I agree completely. I was referring more to the society pages. Have you met no one since Astoria?" It was the last question she wanted an answer to but also the one most on her mind. She didn't think he was seeing anybody, but then, he was awfully private, and if anybody could keep a relationship quiet, it would be him.
Draco's eyes went wide in surprise, and he took a drink before answering. "No. I… haven't been interested in anyone new since Astoria."
She felt a pang of sympathy for him. "I'm sorry. You must have loved her very much."
He nearly spit out his wine, then coughed a few times to clear it. "Now I'm the one who's sorry. I didn't mean to make a scene." He paused, looking at her closely. "The truth is, contrary to what everyone believes, I didn't really love her at all, though we were pretty good friends by the end."
Hermione couldn't help it; she gaped at him. "Wait, what do you mean?
"Astoria and I… that was nothing, really."
"Nothing? Come on, Draco, you were with her for, what, seven years?"
He chuckled, running a hand through his hair. "Almost seven. It's a funny story. I don't know if you'd want to hear it though."
Did she want to hear details of his relationship with the woman he almost married? Of course, it was long over, so even if she felt something upon hearing it, there was no danger. At least, she didn't have to worry about Draco and Astoria reconciling.
"Well, now I do, if you want to tell me. I can't deny I've been curious." The whole saga of Draco and Astoria, their relationship from beginning to end, had captivated the wizarding world for years. Hermione had followed along out of morbid curiosity. It was wrong of her to be so interested in Draco's love life, but as someone who'd once wished she was part of it, she hadn't been able to look away.
Draco thrummed his fingers on the table, gazing at her with indecision but also mirth. "All right. Now you know how I felt about you in school. And then we'd bumped into each other at that Quidditch game, and I found out you were with Cass." He frowned slightly. "I think I'd convinced myself that you'd never go for someone like me, and Cassius… he and I were similar. It stunned me, and then I couldn't stop thinking about you. When we started writing to each other, that was some of the best times of my life. I cared for you, but I think I ignored the way I truly felt. I thought, for sure, my feelings would fade. But they never did, and with each letter I received, I continued to ignore… everything. How I felt about you, how I wasn't acknowledging how I felt, the way everything I did was with you in mind. Finally it became too much. I started to tell you when I showed up at your office that one time."
"Yes! When you came home from Brazil!" She cringed inwardly as she once again heard Rose's voice in her head, telling her he had come back for her. "Oh, Draco." Merlin, she'd been so oblivious, so wrapped up in Viktor she hadn't even noticed him beyond a friend—hadn't even noticed that he'd felt something for her.
He chuckled. "I'd left a relationship in Brazil, thinking all I had to do was announce myself to you and everything would fall into place. When I went back… I dated here and there, but nothing took. The only woman I wanted was you."
Hermione dropped her head in her hands. "Draco! I'm—"
"Don't apologize again. Please, Hermione." His tone was so earnest she looked up at him through her fingers. "All of that was well and good until your engagement to Weasley was announced. It was then I realized I was about to lose you. I stopped dating and tried to put myself in your life, but it was pointless. You were so enamored with Weasley, I knew you'd never see me. My last ditch effort was that book. Well, I mean, I had to give you the book no matter what. I meant the note in the book was my last chance. But I lost my nerve to deliver it in person after trying and failing a few times."
"Why didn't you leave it with Ron if I wasn't home?"
Draco cocked his head to the side. "I wanted to see you. I wanted to watch you open it, to look at me when you realized what it was… It was selfish, maybe, and after the fourth time, I'd lost my nerve."
She couldn't believe how candid he was being with her. "I don't think it was selfish. You were—still are, actually—the only person I've ever told about that book. You should have been there when I opened it!"
"Maybe, but I had an ulterior motive. I wanted to tell you how I felt, and doing so when you realized what the book was… I had hopes that you'd realize what it all meant, that I would always think of you, and want the best for you, and… I don't know, figure out everything I hadn't had the courage to say."
"And leave Ron?" she offered quietly.
Draco let out a long breath. "Love makes us think ridiculously foolish things, like that anything is possible. But in the end, I took the cowardly way and slipped a note into the book before I sent it. I debated on whether or not to do it, but in a fit of selfish pique, aided by copious amounts of firewhiskey, I left it in."
She was utterly speechless, trying desperately to think of something to say. But he smiled again, completely composed and took a sip of wine. "I'll continue the story now. Immediately after school, my parents were content to leave me alone for a while. But when I returned from Brazil to confess my feelings for you, my father decided it was time to think about my future. Specifically, the future of the Malfoy line. I was still quite in love with you, of course, and I'd just gotten my heart stomped on after seeing you with Viktor. So I put my father off and left England again."
"I had no idea. We were still writing to each other then, though I noticed your letters slowly tapered off until they stopped altogether." She thought of all the letters she'd read that week and marveled that she hadn't noticed that they'd stopped. Or if she had, it didn't stand out in her memory.
He grimaced slightly. "It was too hard to continue. I'd thought I could at first, and I was determined to, but after a few months… my heart wasn't in it anymore. I still thought of you everywhere, composed letters to you in my mind, but I couldn't bear the knowledge that I was now writing to Krum's fiance. I stayed away from England as much as possible, but avoiding it completely wasn't an option. Whenever I did return home, my parents would pester me. After you married Ron, I decided I needed to do something about their meddling. I wanted my parents off my back, but I wasn't ready to date. My mother mentioned Astoria, and I thought there was a chance she'd be open to something of an arrangement."
Hermione scoffed. "An arranged marriage? That honestly doesn't sound like you."
"Oh no, not at all. You see, Astoria... Well, you remember how it ended between us?"
"I, yes, I did hear about that." Everybody had heard about it. She felt her cheeks get slightly warm. Astoria had informed Draco, after seven years of courtship, that she preferred the companionship of women and was ready to end their farce if a relationship.
"Right. Here's the secret, though." He leaned forward conspiratorially, even glanced around as though to make sure nobody was listening. "I knew the truth all along."
Hermione frowned, then gasped. "Wait—no! What do you mean?"
"We were both raised in strict pure-blood ideology. My parents were hounding me to date, to marry, to produce an heir, and hers were also after her to marry. I remember there'd been a rumor of her in school fooling around with another witch, but nobody knew who it was or if it was even true, and Daphne threatened to murder anybody who so much as breathed a word of it. I confronted Astoria, she admitted it, and I suggested we enter a mutually beneficial pseudo-relationship, wherein we both get our parents to leave us alone, and she gets to be with whomever she wanted."
She was gaping at him, eyes wide, and she knew she had to look ridiculous. He even laughed when he looked at her, and she shook her head in a daze. "But… you were together for seven years! You were engaged at the end!"
Draco winked and took a sip of wine. "We wanted to drag it out as long as possible. The plan was, when either of us wanted something more with someone else, we'd announce her true sexual orientation to the world, amicable breakup, everybody wins. We courted almost five years. Told everyone we were taking things slowly because of some previous heartaches. Then because we really couldn't drag it on much longer, we got engaged."
"But... I know that you lived with her. I remember Millie and Pansy going to parties at your place." It wasn't that she didn't believe him, rather that the evidence was so strongly against what he was saying.
"Yes, we did live together, which was only barely tolerated by our families. We mainly did it for the attention. Then there's the fact that her girlfriend lived with us, as well." At her stunned expression, he laughed. "I had my own room. We kept some of my things in their room, just for appearances, but any entertaining we did was at the Manor." In a flash, his confidence and self-assuredness was gone, replaced by doubt. "Don't think poorly of me, please. I couldn't bear it."
Hermione raised her eyebrows and shook her head. "No, I don't, I'm…simply speechless. It's an astonishing story. But… I don't understand why you would do it?"
His expression turned slightly sad for a moment before he shrugged. "Do you remember the part about my parents bothering me? By pretending with Astoria, I got to do whatever I wanted—so long as I attended all the right social gatherings, of course. I was free to pursue things that interested me, and that's when I tried many different careers. As you know, I started teaching while we were carrying on our charade, which, honestly, was one thing that made me ready for it to end. I grew tired of playing house and wanted to be fully free."
"Why not just… I don't know… tell your families the truth? That you didn't want to marry yet, and that she liked women? Seems like a lot less work." She tried to eat while he talked, but this revelation was too surprising.
"I can't possibly explain the pressures we were under and had been under our whole lives. Be thankful you have no clue what I'm talking about. That time of farce was the freest I'd ever felt, and it was completely worth it." He pointed his fork at her. "Granted, it's been better since it ended. If I'd known, I might have suggested we put a halt to it even sooner. My parents haven't talked to me about dating since that all started. I know they were completely stunned by what happened and assumed I was too."
He smirked. "They tiptoe around the subject now. And I know it was a devious thing to do, but Hermione, I have never regretted it."
Hermione could only laugh, ignoring the swooping in her gut her first name on his lips inspired. "Well, that's good, I suppose. But how is it that in all that time, you never once found someone you wanted to pursue? I find that nearly impossible to believe. She was with someone—or multiple someones—during that time. Were you really and truly single?"
"Ahh. Huh." He gave her a goofy smile and rubbed the back of his neck. "That's… um, that's a great question, and the answer is… well, it's complicated."
"That's what I told Rose when she asked about me and Ron falling in love. She didn't appreciate my answer." She gave him a pointed look.
"I suppose you can understand how she felt." He took a deep breath and his gaze flitted from her to the door to his empty glass of wine. "I'll need more of this if I'm going to have this conversation."
"You don't have to tell me, Draco. I don't mean to pry. It's just…" She trailed off, unwilling to say what she really felt, which was that he had so much to offer, was so incredibly smart and funny and she loved to be with him, so surely there was someone out there he'd wanted to share his life with.
"No, I think I'm ready." He'd refilled his glass and drank half of it. "Here's the truth, and I don't know why I'm telling you this—maybe it's because I suspect I'm dreaming right now, maybe it's because you're so beautiful I can't breathe and I haven't been getting enough oxygen to my brain in order to make wise decisions, but I don't want to go on like I have been. The truth, Hermione, is that I've been in love with you since eighth year."
Hermione blinked and nearly dropped her fork. There was a sudden rushing sound all around, and her heart was now pumping wildly. "What? How is that possible? Earlier, you only said it was a long time ago!"
"I wrote that note a long time ago. But I fell hard for you in eighth. And… despite my best efforts, it never changed." He shrugged lightly, as though he hadn't just completely rocked her world.
Despite the racing of her heart, she pointed a finger at him accusingly. "That's not true, it can't be. You never said anything, and I even kissed you in eighth! I… we…" She couldn't quite say aloud that she'd wanted to sleep with him that night; the shame over his rejection still burned too hot.
He gave her a sardonic look. "Riiiiight. You kissed me hours after dumping Weasley because he'd kissed someone else. You were a mess; did you honestly think I'd sleep with you like that?"
Her jaw dropped at his brutal honesty—and also that he'd mentioned sleeping with her. "Then why didn't you talk to me?"
"You've got a funny memory. The way I remember it, I tried multiple times to speak with you, and every time you put me off. I got the picture that you regretted the whole thing, and I figured I'd give you time to move past it. It also stung pretty badly, but I wasn't ready to give up on you yet."
Hermione barked a laugh. "You are the one who walked out on me. I remember that part very clearly."
"Because you were a mess! I didn't want to sleep with you while you were devastated over Weasley! Then you'd have really hated me. I'm not a complete tosser." For an instant, he looked hurt, but then it disappeared. "I wanted you when I could be sure you actually wanted me, not just as some one-off while you sorted out your feelings about him."
Hermione shook her head, bringing her hands up to her cheeks in disbelief. "I thought you didn't want me at all. You really liked me then? We… we weren't just friends?"
Draco rolled his eyes. "We were just friends, but not because I didn't want more. You were with Weasley, remember? I wasn't going to act on how I felt. Then that ill-timed snog screwed everything up."
"I'm sorry, this… this is just a lot to take in." His actions in the past were proof of his friendship; if he hadn't cared about her, he would have had no qualms about taking advantage of her when she'd been so distraught over Ron. Merlin, how different might her life have been if she'd let him talk to her rather than running away from him at every turn! But then she thought of Rose and couldn't bring herself to wish things had been different.
"Well. Now you know." He chuckled and ran a somewhat shaky hand through his hair, the first sign of any sort that he was affected by anything they'd been discussing. "I'm glad we finally had this conversation, though. Fifteen years too late, but at least now we both know the truth about that night." He glanced toward the door.
She got the feeling he was ready to run, but something he'd said came to the forefront of her mind. "Wait a moment. You said you've been in love with me since eighth. That's… a very long time and, unless I'm completely mistaken about how words work, your statement includes the present moment. How is that possible? Or did you misspeak?"
"I did not misspeak." He looked at her warily, an even bigger crack in the cool exterior he'd presented to her all night, as though he was afraid of what she would do with this information.
Hermione sat back in her chair, completely astonished as she saw him, the real him, for the first time that night. She had seen glimpses, sure, when his facade of cool and collected would drop, but in this moment she saw him—hesitant and unsure and maybe just as scared as she was. She felt lighter than she had felt in a very long time. Shaking her head, she laughed.
"You find that amusing?"
"I find it both interesting and frustrating, considering I had feelings for you off and on after school ended. And, since we're being completely honest, during eighth as well." That was the hardest thing to admit.
It was his turn to look shell-shocked. "You're not serious. You had feelings for me in eighth?"
"Unfortunately I am serious, all things considered. I was definitely drawn to you during that year, and I was attracted to you. But since I was with Ron, I chose not to act on those feelings. Not to mention, I never would have thought you felt anything for me except friendship." She let out a breath; it wasn't as hard as she'd thought it would be to confess. Though it probably didn't hurt that he'd done it first.
Draco shook his head a disbelieving lilt to his lips. "If I'd known, or had even the slightest idea… I'd have forced you to talk to me."
"Careful. That's a good way to get yourself hexed."
He leaned forward. "If you'd listened, it would have been worth it."
She took a deep breath, ready to plunge into the next piece. "Finding the note inside the book from you was eye-opening, but this whole week has had me wondering about us. At Rose's insistence, I've been telling her about how Ron and I fell in love, but it's such a convoluted story that in order to get the full picture, I had to start at the beginning. Which, for that relationship, was eighth year. After that, I had to wade through the few people I dated, some significant, some not, on my way to finding Ron again, but my friendship with you, while not romantic, played a large role in my life. She made a few comments along the way though that made me stop and wonder."
"Oh?" He arched an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. "Like what?"
"The whole kiss, for one. She insisted that I had misread things. Couldn't believe I never talked to you about it."
"Smart girl."
Hermione sighed. "She also said you came back from Brazil for me." The kiss was easy to fit into the theory that he'd cared for her now that she knew. This wasn't as obvious. Her eyes drifted over to his.
He was smiling slightly, his expression soft. "She's correct, as I've already said."
She shook her head in disbelief. "And I took you dress shopping."
"It was a beautiful dress." His voice was teasing. "And that moment, seeing you in it, is forever seared into my brain because I realized, in that moment, that I had missed something terribly important." The sadness had returned to his gaze.
"I remember," she whispered. "But I didn't marry Viktor."
"That's true. But by the time I learned that, you were with Weasley again. Believe it or not, but Krum isn't the darling of Brazilian Quidditch. They didn't follow his every move, professional or personal. Besides, I buried myself in work, hardly taking any time off. All I wanted was to not feel anything."
She nodded, knowing just what he meant. That was how she'd felt after ending things with Viktor. "I understand, if you can believe it. But Draco... I wish you had said something. Rather than tell me in a note. Stuck in a book. Wrapped in brown paper. Delivered by owl. Right before I got married."
"I know. I've gone over it a million times since then." He rubbed the back of his neck. "But what's done is done. Did Rose pick up on any other things?"
"There weren't other specifics, but she was convinced you'd had feelings for me."
Draco's smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "And then you married Weasley."
"I did. After Viktor, Ron and I reconnected, and I could tell he'd changed. He would always be my first love, and I thought it was fitting he would also be my last." Now she smiled sadly. "But we were never well suited. I was happy for a time, but then... that faded. But we had Rose, so I tried to make it work. Honestly, the happiest I've been in the last eight years was when you consulted on that case with me, do you remember?"
He rolled his eyes. "I just confessed to being in love with you. Of course I remember. I remember every single moment."
Hermione's hand darted out to grip the stem of her wine glass. It was so easy for him to express his love, to repeat it as if her entire world wasn't rocked with every reminder of his feelings.
"Rose did mention that you quit that job because of me. I thought she'd misunderstood and thought you and I didn't get along, but..."
"For someone so brilliant, you can be frustratingly obtuse. Those were some of the happiest months of my life." He sighed dramatically. "You were married for them, of course, but I'd managed to convince myself that I could handle being around you just fine. After five months, I knew I was lying to myself. Walking away from that was the hardest thing I've ever done."
"So she was right." Hermione whispered more to herself than him, brows furrowed as she watched him.
Draco nodded.
"You were with Astoria then, weren't you? At least, you were in your pretend relationship."
"I was, that's true. She knew about you. I mean, she didn't until that project, but picked up on it quickly. I'd come home in a really good mood one night, and she just looked at me and asked me how long I'd been in love with you—she knew I was working with you. I didn't feel much like denying it. She was understanding and patient. Her and Simone—that was her girlfriend at the time—were very helpful. They both wanted me to tell you how I felt, but it was only two years after your wedding, and I believed you were still wild for Weasley."
She smiled ruefully. "Maybe, but that time working with you made me realize that as much as I loved Ron, there was something missing from our marriage—our relationship, really. I tried to ignore it, to deny it, but it probably wasn't a good sign that I kept finding myself wanting to spend time with you and not my own husband's."
"Did something happen to cause the break with him? Something specific, I mean?" He gave a forced little laugh. "I've always wanted a reason to hex him."
"No, there was nothing big. I suppose there came a breaking point, beyond which I couldn't continue, but it wasn't anything like an affair. It was simply me, waking up one day, realizing that I wasn't happy and that Ron wasn't ever going to make me happy. We were too dissimilar; we fought too much, and he never seemed to want to support my goals and ambitions. I kept trying of course, for Rose, but in the end, I didn't want my daughter to grow up with parents who fought all the time. Better for her that we separate and become friends again so we could co-parent her from a place of unity and shared goals." Hermione paused. "The last half a year or so has been truly wonderful. For all of us. Although, of course Rose wants her parents to love each other still. It's so messy."
His smile sent waves of nervous flutters through her. "I'm sure you'll be amazing."
"What I don't quite understand is that you said you care for me now. How can that be?" She was hesitant to fully believe that he was still in love with her. After all, they'd had so little contact over the years, it didn't seem possible. She couldn't deny that, ever since eighth, she'd held onto the embers of what she'd felt for him that year. Maybe some people were just meant to leave an indelible mark on your soul. "You seriously never fell in love with anyone? In all these years? That seems... surprising."
He shrugged. "It's baffling to me as well, but it's true. I tried. I wanted to, believe me. But I kept running into the reality that my heart wasn't my own, so I couldn't give it away. I was mostly content to wait, trusting that, eventually, what I felt for you would fade."
"And now?" She spoke so softly she couldn't be sure he heard.
After a long moment, she glanced his way to find him starting at her. He blinked and swallowed hard, dragging his gaze around the room before landing on her once more. "Now? What do you mean, and now?"
Her heart was pounding again. "You've made this grand confession. You say you still care for me so... what happens now?"
Draco continued to stare at her, his expression unreadable. He cleared his throat. "I assume you aren't referring to my immediate plans for the evening."
"No. Of course not. It seems… like perhaps there's more to talk about." She frowned, realizing that perhaps she was expecting too much. She hadn't really thought about how the evening would go—she'd had too many questions that needed answers before she could let her mind wander down paths of 'what if?'—but it felt as though they'd both expressed interest in each other. The idea of going home without a path forward had her feeling… empty. Sad. Bereft.
"I don't understand. What else would happen?" He took another bite of bread, the only thing that remained on their table to eat.
"We talk! About us!" As she said it, however, she realized that although she'd admitted out loud to having feelings for him off and on before she married, she had yet to give him the impression that she felt something now.
Draco laughed. "Us? There's no us, Granger. You've been divorced for, what, three days?"
She frowned, trying not to be annoyed by his flippant tone.
He noticed and sobered quickly. "I didn't tell you the truth because I'm asking for anything from you. Or expecting anything. You just ended an important relationship with the father of your child. I know you're not interested in anything right now, with me or anybody."
Hermione huffed and folded her arms. "Well, as noble and high-minded as all of that sounds, you're being stupid. And you're wrong."
"Please don't hold back, Granger." His lazy smirk couldn't fool her; she knew her words had stung.
"I've only just signed the papers, that's true, but we've been separated over a year, remember? I did all of my mourning and fighting long ago. I don't need time or space or anything right now. I'm ready to move forward with my life." She hadn't meant to imply that her moving forward would include him, but it sounded that way. She almost apologized but then realized she wasn't sorry at all.
His expression turned serious once more, a sharp look in his eyes. "What, exactly, are you saying?"
"I—"
"No, wait." He glanced around the room, motioning to their waiter when he spotted him. "Let's get out of here. I don't think I can sit one second longer."
She happened to agree, feeling as though she were about to come out of her own skin. "I'm buying. You weren't expecting to eat here tonight."
Draco chuckled and took the bill from the waiter. "Nice try. You can pay your part, but I ordered the expensive wine, remember? Oh, and speaking of that…" He counted out the requisite Galleons, then grabbed the half-full bottle as he stood. "I'll definitely be keeping this."
Hermione tucked the book safely back in her bag, feeling his eyes on her. Then she followed him out of the restaurant, both of them silent until they'd reached the spot where they'd met earlier that night. She didn't know what to say and stood rooted to the spot, panicking that he was about to try and end their evening before she'd gotten to the heart of why she'd wanted to meet him in the first place.
"Walk with me back to the castle?" He tilted his head slightly in the direction of the road leading from the town to Hogwarts.
"Yes. Of course." She fell into step beside him, still trying desperately to think of what to say. He hadn't seemed particularly interested in something with her, despite saying he'd been in love with her for years.
"Want to learn something new?" He wasn't moving particularly quickly, giving the impression that he was content with a leisurely stroll. He walked with one hand in his pocket and the other swinging the bottle of wine.
"Always." She smiled hesitantly, feeling extremely out of sorts.
"When I came back from Brazil to try and win you over, it was because I had realized there was no one else I wanted to spend time with, tell about my day, argue with. I wanted to see the world with you. I'm sure you had no idea, but I stopped actively doing most of the activities I sent you tokens from."
She stopped in her tracks. "What do you mean?"
"Once I realized that what I felt for you in school hadn't abated in the least, I stopped going to all those places. Museums, national parks, all of it." He waved his hand. "I didn't want to do any of it without you. So I started collecting souvenirs from those places to send instead. I kept a copy for myself and put them in a box so that someday, I could show you exactly where I wanted to take you. Experience all those places for the first time with you rather than telling you about them." He chuckled and shook his head. "Merlin, that was absurd."
"No, it wasn't," she said emphatically, her heart racing at the thought. She'd just gone through everything he'd ever sent her, and her mind was full of all the things which, according to him, he'd hoped to do with her. "I've never been to the Academie in Florence, and I've always wanted to go. Especially after getting your postcard."
He gave her a sharp, searching look. "I know you didn't simply remember that one."
She shrugged nonchalantly, not meeting his gaze. "It's possible I've spent time this week reading over all the letters you sent me."
He only stared at her, his expression unfathomable. They walked in silence for a few minutes.
"Will you tell me what happened between you and Krum?" He was staring hard at the ground in front of him. "Why didn't you marry him? I mean, you'd only once mentioned going on a date with him, and then when I saw you, you told me he'd probably be proposing to you. Then the next thing I heard, you were marrying Weasley."
Hermione winced. "I wasn't sure how to tell you. About any of it. I think part of me knew, somehow, that things would change between us if I did, and I didn't want them to. I loved our relationship, and, as I said earlier, I definitely felt… something for you, off and on—or maybe it was the whole time, I'm really not sure because I kept telling myself it was nothing, it was impossible, so I never let myself explore what I was feeling, and anyway, I'd convinced myself you couldn't possibly feel anything similar for me because of what happened the night we kissed, and—"
"Hermione."
She stopped walking and looked at him, feeling her heart beating faster than she'd imagined possible, her lungs aching for air.
"It's alright. We kept missing each other. The timing was never right."
"I'm truly sorry about not saying anything." She put her hand on his arm. "It was awfully selfish of me. Though, in my defense, I had no idea how you felt."
"We were both behaving uncharacteristically then. Dropping everything in Brazil and rushing home to find you was the most bloody Gryffindor thing I've ever done." He smiled sadly. "Although, maybe trying to give you that book in person was a close second."
They resumed walking, still very slowly.
"So. Krum?" he prodded.
"Oh, right. It was nothing dramatic. He wanted to go back to Bulgaria and play Quidditch. I had thought, since he'd moved to England, he would stay there. Because everybody—"
"Wants to play in England."
"Right! But the truth was that he only came here for me. And he wanted to take me back to his home." She sighed, remembering with a pang the look of anguish on his face when she'd told him no. "I didn't want that. I didn't want to move to Bulgaria, where I didn't know anyone, be given a job in their Ministry thanks to Viktor's connections... I didn't want to be a Quidditch spouse. I wanted to stay here, continue the work I was doing. I had plans for my life, and moving would have dashed them all."
He didn't speak right away. For a long while, the only sound was the snow crunching beneath their feet. "Do you regret it?"
"Not for an instant." It was absolutely true. The break had been clean and final.
He looked genuinely surprised. "Really? It seems like the kind of situation where you would always wonder how things might have turned out if you'd made the other choice."
Hermione shook her head. "No. Not this, not for me. I knew he would always want to live there, and I would always want to live here. I healed completely from that relationship, and I've never looked back."
He nodded thoughtfully, his brow furrowed. "I see."
"Rose asked me all these questions, too. And as I told her, I cannot bring myself to regret the series of events that led to her being in my life. Any change, however small, might have affected that outcome."
He smiled out of the corner of his mouth. "That makes sense."
The castle gates loomed ahead. Somehow, despite their slow pace, they were nearing Hogwarts.
"There is one thing, however, that I sometimes wonder. I've thought about it a lot this week, especially." She paused, glancing up to see lights on in the castle windows. "Considering all that I said, if I regretted anything, it would be not letting you speak to me in eighth after we kissed."
He sucked in a sharp breath but continued staring at the ground.
"Will you tell me now what you wanted to say?"
He walked silently, deep in thought, and didn't speak until they reached the gates, then he leaned against them, frowning at the ground, hands still shoved into his pockets. "Alright. I'll tell you."
Their eyes met, and he sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. "What I wanted to say then was that I'd fancied you for awhile, but I wasn't interested in a one-off after Weasley broke your heart or something casual while you got over him. And when you'd finished sorting out your feelings for him, if you were interested, I'd be waiting."
His words made her stomach flutter delightedly, and she took a small step towards him.
"I didn't try very hard, I know, but you made it so easy to keep my feelings to myself."
"I'm sorry about that." She kept approaching; he noticed and stood up straight, eyeing her warily as though she might attack him at any moment. She stopped just in front of him, feeling reckless and bold but also terrified.
There was something about him, something that none of the other men she'd known had, that made her heart skitter and race, made her blood thrum, made her want to skip and dance. But she also wanted to spend hours talking with him, wanted to travel the world with him and do all the things he wanted to do with her, wanted to discuss books and debate magical theory and obscure rune translations with him.
She wanted to find out if that kiss in eighth year had been the result of her heightened emotions over Ron or if Draco, more than anybody she knew, made her feel alive.
"Granger."
She lifted her gaze to his face, her breath hitching at the look in his eyes. They were intense but wary still, as though he didn't know what to do. His hands remained how they'd been, one in his pocket and wine in the other.
"Draco. I want to be very clear. I realize I haven't been, and we've come too far to waste time with further miscommunication. I'm here tonight because I think I have feelings for you. Everything that's happened this week… I can't stop thinking about you. Telling Rose my story brought everything back, and I can safely say that I've worked out all my feelings for Ron." She gave him a crooked, hesitant smile, not knowing if he would appreciate her attempt at humor or if he was even interested in trying something with her. So far, he hadn't made any attempts in that direction, despite claiming to love her.
He swallowed hard, his jaw clenching as his eyes, threatening to burn a hole right through her, remained locked on hers.
"l'm... How did you phrase it? Interested. I suppose the only question is, are you still waiting?"
"Hermione." His voice cracked as he took his hand out of his pocket—finally—and she reached for him, catching his hand in hers.
Everything about his body language was rigid; it was obvious he didn't appreciate the contact, so she dropped his hand and stepped back. She couldn't help the flicker of pain that bubbled up, and she wondered where she'd gone wrong.
Tears even formed in her eyes, and she took another step away.
That must have triggered something in him because he moved like lightning, catching her arm and holding her in place. "Hermione, wait. Don't... Don't walk away. Please never, ever walk away from me again." He slowly slid his hand down her arm, taking her fingers in his own.
"What are you saying?" It came out a whisper, her heart racing and her blood pounding, feeling like she was on the edge of a cliff, waiting to fall into the most amazing life imaginable.
"This… is a lot, Hermione. I'm not… I don't…" He smiled, then shook his head, looking down at where their hands were loosely joined. "I don't know what to say."
"That's easy. Answer the question. Are you still waiting?" She loved the feel of his hand in hers, his body, now full of a nervous tension, right beside her—close enough to feel his warmth. Everything in her was telling her this was right, that she was exactly where she wanted to be.
Draco let out a shaky breath, inching closer into her personal space, gaze still downcast.
"I'm not sure I'd call it that, exactly. But I'm ready." Then he slowly raised his eyes to hers, a wide open look across his face. "Are you? I want you to be sure. I don't want to be just some passing fancy, the first person you're with after ending your marriage." He released her hand and lifted his to her face, his fingers ghosting over her skin as though he were afraid to truly touch her.
"I want so many things I don't have a right to want. But I also want to be very clear. More than anything, I want to be the last relationship you have."
She was barely breathing at how close they were, how easy it would be to tip her toes and press her lips to his. Merlin, she wanted to, more than she could have imagined. There was so much she could say, dozens of thoughts running in her mind. She couldn't promise him forever tonight, despite feeling deep in her heart that he would be her last.
Life was complicated. She had a child and couldn't be casual with her relationships. Ron would be in her life forever; they would be parenting Rose for the rest of their lives, and anybody she was serious with would have to understand that. But she knew her mind and she wanted everything. If she'd learned one thing from her week of storytelling, it was that she was ready, really and truly, to think about love again, and every single stray thought in that vein had been about him.
They stood staring at each other, his hand still raised to her face. Now he gently let himself touch her cheek, his hand trembling and his expression bursting with emotion. She closed her eyes and leaned forward, looking down as she stepped closer. She felt the heat of his lips close to her skin.
"Draco." She looked up into his eyes. "Yes. I want that as well, as much as it scares me."
He blinked, then softly smirked. "I'd really like to kiss you now."
"Yes, please!"
He needed only to tip her chin up, which he did with a feather-light touch that still seemed to scald her in the best way.
Hermione had been replaying their first kiss in her mind all week, and now, finally, she was kissing him again. The years between didn't matter; she felt just as giddy, just as overwhelmed, just as lost in sensation as she had been fifteen years before, and a small part of her hated the very real possibility that she'd been missing out on this, on him, ever since. But she refused to dwell on that, and before she knew what had happened, he'd maneuvered her against the wall. It was a shock to find herself pressed up against the hard iron rails, but she didn't let it distract her from the way his lips felt against hers.
When she needed more of him, she reached out blindly, finding his shirt and pulling him closer. Merlin, she hadn't been kissed like this in... well, best not to think about that. But she was on fire, his attention becoming more heated as he swiped her lips with his tongue. She gladly let him deepen the kiss, tilting her head up slightly to give him better access. She kept her hand firmly fisted in his shirt lest he get the idea that she wanted him to stop. But no, she never, ever wanted him to stop, and was genuinely quite content to kiss him forever exactly where she was.
Just when she started to want even more—his lips, his tongue, his hands—he abruptly pulled away, one hand gripping her hip, the other lost in the hair at the back of her neck. His breathing was ragged, and his gaze dipped to her lips. But he didn't kiss her again, and after a moment, he released her. She whimpered slightly, not wanting him to go, and he groaned.
"That... that was..." He let out a low breath and dragged a hand through his hair. His smile was radiant. "I haven't felt anything like that since…"
"I know." She tried to give him a reassuring smile, but he seemed fraught with nerves. Her own breaths were coming in short puffs, and all she could think about was kissing him again.
"Yeah?"
She nodded, smiling at him. "I told you, Draco. I want to see what we could be. Together. What do you say?"
"I told you. I want to be your last. I've loved you for so long, though. I... I'm nervous." He let out a shaky laugh. "Bloody hell, that's an understatement. I'm terrified."
"Of what?" She turned sideways so that she could look at him fully, resting her shoulder on the wall.
He mirrored her, crossing his arms over his chest. "Everything. Being with you. Letting myself truly feel this, accept that this is happening. That you seem keen on trying something with me." He shrugged. "I never thought something like this could happen. I've just waited, for years, for my feelings for you to fade, and they never have, and I never understood it. I felt cursed sometimes. But now..."
She reached for his hand and threaded her fingers with his, those delightful swooping sensations that come with a fresh, new romance sweeping through her. He stared at their joined hands a moment, then grinned up at her. They stared at each other for a few seconds, then his smile grew serious.
"Now I feel like it was all worth it, seeing you look at me that way. Maybe all of that was simply preparing me to be someone who could stand beside you, proud to be there, knowing I'm the luckiest man alive." He brought her hand to his lips and pressed them against her knuckles. "I'm more than ready."