I Love(d) You (Once)

Chapter Eleven: Change

(2100h)

"D-Do you think I'm stupid?" Ron stammered.

Harry frowned and shook his head, draining his glass of butterbeer. Their somber conversation felt incongruous to the cheerful atmosphere within the pub. Strangers hugged strangers as the Chudley Cannons did what most thought deemed impossible: win an in-season game, but both of them could not muster vivacity to their expressions. It was as though someone had injected lead into their facial muscles. "You beat me in every game of chess."

Ron shook his head, unconvinced. "Not with like games and such, but with people. I mean, more specifically, do you think I'm Hermione-stupid… I have no idea why she just bolted."

"Well she's not Hermione for nothing if she doesn't operate on a higher level than us," Harry tried to joke.

Ron took a long gulp of his drink, relishing the burn down his throat and the acrid taste on his tongue while he played with paper coaster, torn into little pieces, as he brought up the courage to confide in Harry. "I don't even know what I said to make her act up like this. It's happened a few times before, and each time I have no idea what's going on. I mean, I know work's been hard on her lately, and we even got into an argument when she found out I bought a new broom... but whatever's happening—" Ron made large waving motions at the abstract, "Which is bigger than all of this. I can't ask her or try to fix it when she's not here."

"And what happens when she runs off?" Harry asked, and he shifted in his seat with a glum expression on his face.

"She comes back," said Ron. "She doesn't say anything, so I never ask and that was the end of it."

Harry sighed and held back the urge to palm either himself or Ron in the face. "And how does that solve anything?"

"Well, I think she runs off because she needs some space and time to sort through her feelings," Ron said, and paused for a moment to collect his thoughts. "Hermione doesn't like to rely on others, and she likes to solve her problems herself."

"Yes that certainly is true," Harry conceded. "But…"

"Sometimes I think we worked better in a long-distance relationship," Ron confessed. As the words left his mouth, his shoulders slumped. "I take that back, but I hate this, whatever's going on."

"Maybe she just needs time, like the times before." Harry didn't know what else to do but resort to clichés.

Ron wrung the end of his shirt as though it was a towel which needed to be dried. "I feel like there's this gap between us. We're different people. I love her to bits. I love her so much."

"Opposites attract," Harry pointed out. "Look at Ginny and me. I'm reserved and she's outspoken. We complete each other."

Ron sighed. "I know that. But. Where do you see yourself in five years?"

Harry pushed up his glasses as he considered this. "I hope that I'll be working in the A-squad. James will be four by then so I'll be there with Ginny on the first day we take him to kindergarten. She'll cry a lot." Harry smiled sheepishly, caught up in the image of his future. "And I'll cry a little bit too."

"That's another thing. I try so hard to imagine what life'll be like. Never mind five, I can't even imagine the next year. Hermione and me together, where we'd be, what we'd be doing."

"You were never gifted in Seeing," Harry attempted to joke.

Ron chuckled and sighed. "Yeah… I don't know if it's because it's really because I can't imagine the future, or I just don't want to try, just in case it's something that I don't expect in it." He drained his mug and shook the last dregs into his mouth. He peered into the end of the tumbler where the beer foam remained, and tried to make descry his future from its geometry. "Sorry for being such a downer, and making you an Agony Aunt. It's your only night free for the first time in weeks and I've dragged you to The Three Broomsticks. We even missed the legendary Chudley Cannons victory because of I was moping!"

"Don't worry about it, I'm sure there will be play-by-play recounts for the years to come," Harry said, giving him a nod. With their semi-private conversation over, Harry waved his wand and the ambient noise around them grew louder and more immediate as his charm dispelled. The immediate effect was apparently when a warm hand grabbed Harry by the shoulder.

"Harry! It's been yonks since I last talked to you. How are you doing?" A tall man had yanked Harry out of his chair and swung him into a bear hug.

"Seamus! Ron gave a loud laugh when Harry winced at the contact, and when Seamus came up to hug him, the contact sounded like a loud clap of thunder. Neither men seemed to mind; they were too busy slapping each other on the back in their unexpected reunion. "Last time I talked to you I thought you had gone crazy, what with you saying you were making thousands of metal cages for every home."

"Well, I wasn't allowed to say what I was doing," he said cheekily. "But I did tell you the truth didn't I?"

Ron shook his head. "Despite your affinity with fire, how did you figure your rightful place was working with expensive equipment that shoots sparks all the time? Can you imagine how surprised I was when I found your name on the box on every Muggle appliance Hermione and I bought?"

Seamus couldn't help but swell with pride. Even for a modest person, being the contractor who oversaw and built the technology responsible for the Second Wave of the Muggle Revolution was no small feat.

"The hardest part of the job was keeping it all a secret," Seamus said, settling into his favourite recount. "The team acts like they're in a spy novel. I'd swear the look on Adrian's face when he took me into the room to discuss the project… I felt like James Bond for a moment."

"James Bond? Who's that?"

After leaving Ron and Seamus to catch up, but not before profuse promises to say "hello" to Ginny, Harry Apparated out of the bar and into the entrance of his house. Meeting Seamus made Harry realise people changed, and time had passed more quickly than he realised. He'd previously been worried how he and his friends would cope, what with the war in the last year of their education – whereas it seemed his worries were misplaced. Even Seamus, who as one of the classmates had struggled to sit still and repeat his final year had changed to a dedicated man who loved, and couldn't stop talking about his job. It was testimony to how much people adapted to new situations and transformed when placed in a different niche.

Harry placed a hand against a wall as he slipped off his shoes. They clacked against the wooden frame of the shoe rack beside the front door, and he saw a pair of formal black pumps where he'd have placed his shoes. "Ginny?" he called out as he entered the house.

Inside, Ginny looked up from the sofa at the sound of her name and beckoned to Harry, who hovered at the entrance of the living room, unsure of how to proceed.

Hermione sat stoned-face beside his wife, looking as though someone had ironed her back straight. She was too distraught to even give him a nod of acknowledgement. "I was awful to him."

Ginny sighed, motioning Harry to come closer. He obeyed, albeit with his feet dragging every step of the way. "What do I say to her?" he mouthed. Ginny scowled as her husband and patted Hermione on the arm consolingly.

"Harry was just with Ron," she announced.

"Yeah," Harry mumbled. He shuffled closer to Ginny for support, and grabbed her hand. He squeezed hers and she gave a comforting look in return. "Ron's not angry. He's just confused. I think you should talk to him."

"But there's nothing to say," Hermione replied.

"Oh… um…" Harry wished he was far far away. He did not know how to handle Hermione when she acted like this. Give him a horn-tailed dragon any day! "I just want you to know that both of you are my best friends and I will be support both of you. I refuse to pick sides."

Ginny rolled her eyes did what she did best and took control of the situation. "Look, we both don't know what's happening with you and Ron. Whatever is between the two of you, is between you two. No one else can fix it for you. But let me give you one piece of advice," said Ginny. "If you want this relationship, you'll have to fight for it. Go back to The Nest and apologize to Ron. I'm sure he will forgive you. He loves you too much not to."

Hermione nodded slowly. "Yes, I understand it's really up to us, me to solve this situation. Thanks for your advice... and sorry about eating your whole tin of biscuits."

She smiled at the couple. "See you soon." Drawing her wand out of her pocket, she disappeared with a loud crack.

Harry raised his eyebrows at his wife. "What do you think of that?"

Ginny sighed and took a seat on the couch again. "It's been two years since she's come back and I think they're moving out of their honeymoon phase."

Harry grimaced. "You call the last two years their 'honeymoon phase'?"

"From what I've heard, they've never had an actual fight." She frowned, doubtful of her own words.

"What?"

"She says she can't take it anymore and runs. Not Hermione-like, don't you think? She's usually adopts the charge and take-no-prisoners approach."

Harry took a seat beside Ginny and propped her feet onto his lap. Ginny sighed as he began massaging them. "That feels good. Keep doing that," she ordered. "I think I can understand her feelings. She's told me a few things… Hermione's parents are Muggle."

"Yeah, and so?"

"Just how she's grown up as a person. The one thing she likes best is learning; change is a good thing for her."

"That does sound like Hermione?"

"And I think Ron's content with what he's always known and Hermione's not."

"Yeah, they're quite different," Harry agreed, recalling back to the conversation he had with him in the pub.

(1930h)

"I'm friends with the owner," Draco explained as he led Astoria to a large building complex by the hand. He ignored the elevator and instead, took the stairs, two at a time. When Draco had caught her by her apartment, they'd come to the conclusion they really needed to talk.

And there was one big thing she needed to tell him.

"What was wrong with the elevator?"

"Sometimes it stops working," he said, though he'd taken the stairs because of The Incident. Just hearing the 'ding' of the elevator made his blood pressure shoot up.

"Right," she muttered under her breath and she froze when she heard footsteps behind her. Theo.

"I swear the food is better than decent and worth the walk up," said Draco.

"You should reserve your judgment, my dear, until after you've eaten. He's been known to lie."

Astoria linked arms with Draco and summoned her best smile. "Show me the way."

They turned a corner and a bell rung as Draco pushed the restaurant door open. The interior was tidy and well-lit with small wooden tables, red and white checkered table cloths, light music in the background; a place Astoria might have visited herself. A sweet smell of coffee and casserole filled the air and she saw a fat man run up to greet them.

"Draco! Looking good as usual, who is this friend of yours?"

Astoria cleared her throat. "Girlfriend," she said, and it felt odd to refer herself that way. Though she had said that before, this was the first time it was… true. "We've decided to bring our relationship public. It's been a little over two months."

"Oh," he said with a grin. "So that's why he always came alone."

"This is Mike," said Draco before the man could tell her more about his lonely dining habits. The man offered a handshake to Astoria. "He makes the best casserole in England. You like fish, right?"

"Sure," she said and stiffened when she sensed the presence beside her. She closed her eyes and recovered herself. A couple of years ago, she would have jumped when Theo appeared right up close. Now she was in control and could act as though nothing happened.

"You never ate fish with me."

"I love fish."

"Miiiiiike!" a voice roared.

"One magnificent fish casserole coming up," Mike said as he headed towards the kitchen. "I'm sorry I can't chat, my sous chef is calling me. Owner or not, she gets cranky when I leave her to fight the kitchen battle alone."

"We'll leave you to it," said Draco and he scanned the restaurant. "We'll be near the back."

When they sat down—and Theo had the nerve to sit on the same table! Draco's hand brushed against hers.

"You said you had something important to say," said Draco, wondering if he should wake the sleeping tiger. Oh, hell with it, he thought. If we're going to get anywhere, we'll have to talk about it some time. "Pansy told me something the other day… that you're seeing Nott. Is this something you should tell me about? I mean," he lowered his voice, "We just started whatever this is… but I'm going to expect exclusivity if we're going to be anything other than what we've previously agreed to."

And of course, for a flair of dramatics Pansy at deliberately imparted the wrong information. "If you're asking whether I'm dating him… no I'm not. But…" she took a deep breath. Here was a line she drew for herself in the morning after the Battle of Hogwarts. Tears threatened to spill and her throat grew tighter at the memory, so distant it seemed like a tracing of a pencil compared to the consuming darkness at the beginning. She was having more trouble than she thought she would.

Draco shifted in his chair, sensing the emotions playing out on Astoria's face and clearing out his throat. "I'll tell you a story first," he offered. He would share something with her he never told anyone before; Blaise and Pansy who stuck by him witnessed it, and understood but he had never articulated this story to a living soul until now… he wasn't trying to be manipulative or anything, it was just a token to show how much he trusted her. "And then see if you can tell me about Nott after it."

"About three years after my father passed away, I started having dreams," he began, "and these dreams—no I don't think I can call them dreams—they were memories. They scared me so much, throughout the whole Death Eater trials… I thought I was innocent, and my mother had cast the Imperius curse on me. But I'm not sure… I'm not sure it's just my guilty conscience playing with my head, or if it's the truth. B-But, I think—I think all the crimes I've committed were done by me… willingly, voluntarily… under free will."

Astoria grabbed his wrist tightly, suddenly feeling a whole lot less afraid for herself and Draco's pulse pounded against the tip of her fingers. "N-No… they're just your head playing tricks on you," she said. And she took a deep breath. "Sometimes… sometimes… when you go through a traumatic experience, even after it's been years you can see things, hear things which haven't happened before—doesn't exist—that's just how we are."

Draco frowned, shaking his head. "It's different, Astoria. I just have this gut feeling."

"I know it feels real," Astoria cut in, "And it might be something so familiar, you've never really tried letting go because… but deep down you know it's not real. Like, like, I…" her voice faltered and she looked Draco right in his eyes, drawing herself up. She could do this. One step closer across that line; reconnecting with people—Draco: it began here. "When Pansy said I was seeing Nott, she meant that I see him. Not as a ghost or anything, but like he's always beside me and I can hear him... he talks to me."

"The truth is out! I wonder what's he's going to do now. If he's anything like he was in Hogwarts, he'll hold this over you," Theo said, shaking his head.

Astoria turned and glared at Theo, never letting go of Draco's hand. He nodded once, then twice, as though his brain was processing the knowledge and wondering what to do with it. "He's here, sitting next to us right now, isn't he?" He placed a hand on the wooden empty chair next to him and shook it with a hand.

"He's not actually there—," Astoria said, as Theo pretended to be rattled along with the chair. "No one has seen him for the last six years and he's been presumed dead for four. He's not here; he's not anywhere. I know that."

"My dear Astoria, you can't know something that isn't the truth."

"I think I'll miss missing you a little less each time you show up like this," Astoria said to Theo.

"What did he say? Is he trying to flirt with you?" asked Draco, somewhat aghast. He looked at the chair beside him.

"That's it?"

"That's what," asked Draco.

"That's all you have to say; whether this imaginary person I see flirts with me?"

"Well…" Draco shrugged. "I guess?" Pansy would be sorely disappointed in the lack of reaction from Draco. No shock, no heaving, no tears. "I mean, I prefer it would be great if Nott did know that since I'm here now for you, if he had a chance now, he'd be like number forty. I mean I'm arrogant enough to believe it's all because I'm here. I'm going to fill whatever empty hole is in your heart. Someone who's not there, who's a figment of her imagination can't compete with someone who's living, breathing and by your side" –and as an aside almost as though he were speaking to Nott, he added– "The queue starts over there. Get in line."

"So you don't mind? That you're seeing a somewhat batty girl?"

"Well, that's not really the point is it? You can't choose the parts of someone you like… to date, and if it's you well…" he looked away embarrassed to even admit this aloud. Where did his nastiness go? He'd become a puppy. A real puppy. He'd grow floppy ears and a tail real soon. "It's worth it."

Astoria had imagined the conversation taking a different direction; she'd expect Draco to act distantly, like how you treated people you only cared to use, but instead… "I guess you're used to being with people slightly touched in the head with deviousness or brilliance or otherwise. Pansy? Hermione Granger? Both of them in the same week? No wonder why you're taking the news so calmly."

"You've just named the two banes of my existence, and for your information I feel like I might combust into flames every day."

The anvil looming over her head disappeared, and Astoria no longer felt alone, as though she was separated from the outside world by a glass wall. For the first time in what felt like years, she was having a conversation, a real conversation and it felt good. "Well your information, I'm not dating anyone else. In fact, I don't see anyone any at all. In the platonic and romantic sense. Theo's been keeping them away."

I know I might not have meant it when I told you to leave me alone the other thousands of times, she thought and Theo snorted at this— but this time I do mean it. And to show you…

"Oh, please don't make me watch you snog him again. That was scarring for my soul," said Theo, pulling at his hair. "You know that only makes me go for a little while. Whatever you do, I always come back. You know I do."

"You really don't care that I see someone who's not there?"

"If you're asking whether it bothers me, I can't say no," he said. "But it's not like this changes much. As I said before…" He snorted at the memory. "You won't believe this, but Pansy once said no one in their right mind would choose to date me. I guess it's true." Draco pulled her hand up to his lips and kissed it. Theo made hurling noises in the corner.

"Thank you," she said, her voice wobbling from the warm-feeling inside her. We had a good run, Theo, but it's time for me to move on. To show I'm serious, I want you to see, witness this. "I know it's a bit too early to suggest this, but how do you feel about throwing away the whole number two thing between us."

"You're saying…"

"I'm saying," said Astoria, taking a deep breath. "I think we have to admit we're more than interested in each other… how do you feel about actually dating… for real… if we haven't already been doing that today already."

Astoria held her breath as she watched a range of emotions flicker through Draco's eyes. Shock. Panic. Then he smirked. "I couldn't have said it better myself." He squeezed her hand and turned his head to the side. "See that, Nott?"

Astoria never considered herself an emotional person, but tears began to roll down her cheeks and her vision started to blur. She looked at Theo; he was in his Hogwarts uniform, his curly hair clipped short, cut in the latest fashion six years back, and he gave her a half-hearted wave and crooked smile which had always melted her. He leaned forward and gave her a kiss on the cheek as a farewell. When she blinked and her vision cleared, all she could see was an empty chair.

That was the last time she saw the imaginary Theodore Nott.

And so despite Astoria and Draco's unconventional start to their first real date—much too heavy and topic covered much too dark for a getting-to-know-one-another kind of affair—it progressed the way a lot of good dates went – with good food and company. They forgave each other for awkward dead-end replies, flirted and teased, and at the end of it Draco felt he was just starting to learn about Astoria.

Yet he never forgot their relationship started in a way a lot of romances didn't. She had very recently let go of her missing boyfriend. And Draco's affections concentrated on a woman he so incorrectly placed on a pedestal for half a decade had no so long ago, crumbled.

After the date the man who gave gaudy roses felt lonely returning back to his apartment. His heart was beating fast, and he couldn't calm down. Draco went through the correct motions of reading: sitting on the couch, running his eyes across the lines of words, flipping the page when he was at the bottom, but he wasn't taking anything in. Draco gave up on 'reading' and threw his book across the room.

Moonlight filtered through his window. He couldn't stop smiling. He paced around his living room, chuckling to himself.

"This won't do," he said, shaking his head and beaming at the moon. He grabbed his coat and a handful of Floo Powder. "I need to become normal again."

Poof! He disappeared from his apartment in a burst of flames.

(2200h)

Hermione scrubbed her face; there had been no tears, but she felt awful. It was late, and though for security reasons the lights were still on, she couldn't see anybody. She climbed out of the fireplace and pressed the button for the elevator, it opened and she stepped in, her head down and staring at her shoes.

"Wait for me!" A voice piped up and Hermione looked up.

Draco. It looked as though someone had sewn a clumsy and ridiculous expression on his face. That or his facial muscles weren't used to being used this way.

"Good evening, Granger," he said, humming to a tune in his head. He pressed for their floor and tapped his feet to his imaginary song.

She didn't have the energy to respond and turned away from him so he wouldn't see (and mock) her obvious signs of distress.

Ding! The elevator door opened and Draco skipped to his desk with Hermione slinking at his heels.

"What the—"

"Artie!"

"What are you doing here?"

Beside the intern, a paper tower loomed over his head and he smiled. "There's still quite of work left so I decided to stay until I finished them."

"I planned to come in because I had nothing better to do," said Draco, and Hermione narrowed her eyes at his uncharacteristic cheerful lilt in his answer. "Let me help you with that!"

Hermione cleared her throat, hoping her words wouldn't come out as squawks. "I-I needed to clear my head. This is perfect." She headed over to the desk and grabbed her pen. Writing utensils poised and ready for some serious action.

"Um, guys. That'd be awesome," said Artie. "But can you two promise not to fight? I can't handle—I mean, I'd appreciate some peace."

"Of course," chirped Draco, still high on endorphins. He gave her a bright smile. Everything was la vie en rose. "Let's get along, Granger."

Hermione nodded, shocked by his sincere demeanour, but gave him her best smile. "Yes, let's." She would let go of their little Elevator Incident for now. She needed kindness in the wake of all the confusion she'd felt in today. A sense of normalcy and comity was good.

Draco drew up a table and assigned several tasks and reports for them to do (so that way, there'd be no double-ups, ingenious!) and gave her another smile. "Let's do it then."

As Artie read through a file, he shot a glance at Hermione. She seemed awfully silent. Draco looked as though he was high on something. He shook his head and decided not to question their strange behaviour and be thankful.

"Hey, Granger," said Draco, putting down his pen. "I might need a little bit of your skills for the Ackerly case."

"Hm?" she asked, leaning back so the front two legs of her chair swung up. "What is it?"

"I've got a conditional green-light from Pucey assuming I get a nod from Prewett for this little plan of mine."

"And that is?"

"The Founder's Party. We're in charge of planning it and I want it on a cruise ship. Can get Prewett to say yes? We'll be killing two birds with one stone if he does."

"What's that got to do with the Ackerly case?" Artie asked Draco.

"We'll need an event to bring all the relevant actors on stage."

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose, and she glanced at him warily. "This reeks of ulterior motives." Which they were infamous for, and never told anyone because they would get in so much trouble for them. But it made things efficient. "Does it have anything to do with Melinda Tipping saying she'll identify the Ackerly twins for a price? I thought she was joking about the two million galleons,"

"Yes, and no, she wasn't joking about the money. I checked into her background, and she seems to be owing two million galleons because of bad investments."

Artie whistled. "That's insane."

"Yeah, how do you manage to lose that much money in one go?" Hermione sat bolt upright, shaking her head – though her eyes were bright..

"No, I meant accepting her offer! Hermione, how is this okay with you? And what does it have to do with having a party?"

Draco smiled and winked at them, and excitement rippling through his system like an electric current. "You'll see."

Hope you liked this new chapter! And on a completely unrelated side note, I have to announce/brag that for my 21st I will be having a Harry Potter themed party with my best friend whoot whoot.