CHAPTER 19

September 20th 2001

Hermione Granger woke up alone the day after her birthday. She had told her fiance that she was feeling unwell after dinner with their friends, and thought it best that he spent the night at his own apartment; not wanting to risk him catching anything. In truth, Hermione was not unwell, but just needed some time to herself. The past few weeks had been exhausting and all she craved was reading a book in the bath with some candles.

When she got out of bed at around lunch time, there was an owl pecking at her window. Hermione opened the glass and let the bird perch itself on her sill. There was a letter attached to it's foot. She unraveled the parchment and ripped the envelope open. A note read:

Anything you need babe?

Rest up.

Enjoy your day off.

Touched by the gesture she assumed was from her fiance, Hermione held the paper to her chest and squeezed her eyes tight. She was loving this version of Ron, the one where he surprised her with flowers and sent her letters.

The day off had passed slowly. With a mix of reading, baking and drinking wine, Hermione began to feel her spirits lifted. Stuffing a brownie into her mouth, she looked out onto the London streets through her wall length window in the living room. The world looked big out there. So much she hadn't yet explored, but spent all of her adolescence fighting for.

Hermione began to wonder what her life would have looked like if she had not been put into Gryffindor. What if the sorting hat had placed her in Ravenclaw? Who would her friends have been? Would she have survived the war? Would her and Ron have fallen in love without the rush of the world ending around them?

All questions the witch was terrified to know the answers to.

Taking a bite of another brownie, Hermione poured herself a fourth glass of wine. The clock had struck 5pm which meant that all the ministry employees would be heading home right now. Looking at the maroon journal on her counter, she thought of Malfoy and if he had tried to visit her office today.

Hermione walked over to the small pile of music on the shelf in the lounge room, flicking through the vintage records that her dad had handed down to her over the years. It would be lovely to have some of these played during the wedding, but it was simply not a wide enough selection. She turned to look behind her at the journal one more time on the counter.

Perhaps it was the fourth glass of alcohol to blame, but Hermione felt the sudden need to go and pay Malfoy a visit. He would know what they could play during the wedding. He had the largest music collection she had ever seen.

Chugging back her wine, Hermione went and changed out of her pyjamas and into a pale pink summer dress that had a square neckline. It was a vintage piece of clothing from her mother's wardrobe. Using her wand to tame her hair, and spritzing a splash of perfume on, she made her way over to the floo.

As Hermione called out Malfoy's house, a little bit of excitement tickled her. Eager to see her friend. The green flames swooshed around her until she landed safely in his fireplace.

Immediately her ears were filled with the sounds of music. Malfoy was already playing his records at a high volume. Probably so loud that he did not hear her come in. Hermione recognised the song as Songbird by Fleetwood dad was a big fan of this band.

As she stepped out on the chessboard tiles, Malfoy walked out of the kitchen into the living room wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. Hermione yelped and threw her hands over her eyes.

"Merlin, Granger!" Malfoy yelled in fright.

"I am so sorry!" She apologised frantically. "I-I should have knocked on the door."

"What the fuck are you doing here?" He growled from across the room. Her eyes were still covered but the small picture she saw before she blinded herself was his thick chest dripping wet from being in the shower. It was awfully arousing.

"I-um-I came here to ask for your opinion on something."

"You could not have waited until tomorrow?"

"N-well, maybe, but could you please just go and put some clothes on so I can look at you when I talk to you!" She snapped at him.

"Stay here." He instructed. Hermione could hear him cursing as he left the room and ran upstairs.

She uncovered her eyes and shook her head. Of course she walked in on him in just a towel. Now that image was going to be burnt into her memory forever.

The record scratched at a halt as the song that filled the room came to an end. Hermione walked over and flipped the vinyl over so that the B side played. 'Title' started play. Add more.

"I take it that you are not really sick then." Malfoy spoke behind. His voice startled her so she jumped slightly.

"No, I was not." Hermione replied, turning around to see that he was now fully clothed in a black shirt tucked into matching coloured dress pants. Malfoy strolled over to where she was standing, she could smell his soap. The scent was musky, filled with vanilla and cinnamon.

"Do I dare ask why you were not at work today?" He asked, putting hands into his pockets.

"I just needed a day to myself." She explained.

"Mmmm." He hummed. "What are you doing here, Granger? First you give Potter my address, and now you come over unannounced. I am going to have to move before Weasley decides to pop in for a cup of tea."

Hermione winced, forgetting that she had given Harry the address to Malfoy's house. She had hoped he only wanted it to send an owl, but by the annoyed look on his face, that guess was wrong. Music continued to flow in the room despite the animosity.

"Harry asked you about your father, didn't he?" She asked, ashamed of her friend's intrusive nature.

"No." Malfoy replied bluntly. "He told me about the quidditch match."

"Oh."

Now Hermione was even more embarrassed.

"Now, for the third time… What are you doing here, Granger?" He took one hand out of his pocket and used it to further intensify his question.

"Well," She started, "I was going through some music at my apartment in hopes to find some songs to play at the wedding, but I did not have enough to choose from. I thought perhaps you would have some suggestions."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow and squinted his eyes, clearly confused by her random act of friendship they had not reached yet.

"What's the catch?" He second guessed her.

"No catch. Just knew you would know better than I do."

Malfoy opened his mouth and smiled at her. Hermione knew he was about to make a joke about being better than her at something, but she pointed her finger at him to warn him to not go there. The curly haired woman squeezed her lips to stop a smile forming.

"Alright, Granger. I can help you." Malfoy agreed, reaching out to the shelf behind her and grabbed a record off the shelf. It was an album she was not familiar with. "If you head into the kitchen, go and grab two glasses. There is a bottle of Fireswhiskey and muggle-wine in the cupboard with our names on it."

"Muggle-wine?" Hermione questioned.

"Yes. It's stronger than elf-made. Piss off and go get it while I get the music ready."

A minute later she came back with the bottles and glasses in hand. Malfoy was spinning a record on his fingers before putting it on the phonograph. Hermione poured their drinks on the centre table as the sweet sound of a piano filled the room.

"Who is this?" She asked, taking a seat on one of his leather couches.

"Etta James." He answered, echoing her actions on the second couch. "Very popular romantic. Perfect for your vanilla wedding."

Hermione rolled her eyes and sipped the wine in her hand.

An hour later both the witch and wizard were sitting on the floor belly laughing with one another. They had worked their way through multiple albums, including the works of Fleetwood Mac, Frank Sinatra, James Brown and a magical artist by the name of Charles Marie. All being great suggestions for Hermione to add to her list.

"I cannot believe you did that!" She giggled, feeling very tipsy after her sixth glass of the day.

"He deserved it. It was the only reasonable form of revenge." Malfoy wiped a tear from his cheek, only on his third glass of Firewhiskey.

Hermione liked being here with Malfoy like this. It was so much nicer than the tension they shared at work, and the aggression he often showed her. Laughing and sharing stories with him made her forget the rest of the problems that awaited in her apartment.

"I think we should put on the Ray Charles album I bought for you." She grinned, pumping her eyebrows and biting her bottom lip.

"Be my guest." He smiled back at her.

Hermione jumped off the floor and skipped over to the collection on the shelf. Scanning through all the records, she finally figured out that Malfoy organised them by artists and then alphabetically. Just how she preferred.

Slipping the gifted record from the line up, she pulled the vinyl out and put it on play.

Draco Malfoy watched the curly haired witch from his seat on the floor. He couldn't help but adore her. The long pale pink dress she wore was perfectly fit, and her locks were extra big today. She looked breath-taking. Being with her in his apartment like this made his heart race. It was selfish of him to love tonight so much, but he didn't care to ruin their fun.

He had worried during the day if Granger was okay after she did not show for work and learned that his father was still alive. But after hearing from Astoria that she was simply unwell, that gave him peace of mind.

Draco figured that Lucius had gone into hiding after he had been attacked, and was laying low for the time being. He highly doubted that his father would have been able to trace his murder attempt on his son. If anything the prick was probably scared to come out from the underground, worried that his enemies were out to get him. There was no point fretting until there was reason to fret.

Granger closed her eyes and smiled as the sounds of violins bounced off his living room walls. He could spend nights like this with her forever.

"Can I ask you a question?" She turned to look at him.

"Depends." He smirked.

"On what?" She laughed.

"If it's going to make me regret pouring you your last glass of wine."

"Oh, we are well past that point."

They both chuckled.

Granger walked back over to where he sat, and flopped gracefully onto the tiles. Her skirt poofed out around her legs. She twirled a ringlet in her finger, and chewed the inside of her cheek.

"You can ask me anything, Granger." Draco encouraged. She sighed deeply.

"I have a friend, you see, that is unable to have children. But her boyfriend had always looked forward to having a family of his own, so they are stuck not knowing where their future lies. If you were in their position, what would you do? Would you stay, knowing that life was going to be a little bit worse? Or would you cut and run?"

Draco swallowed. He knew that this was not a friend they were talking about here, this was her and Weasley that were on the line. But Granger did not know that he knew of her medical condition.

A part of him wanted to tell her to run, to leave Weasley so they could be together. Draco did not care that she was not able to bear children, there was so much to her than the ability to be a wonderful mother. And yet, he knew deep down that it was not the answer she was looking for.

"I would stay, Granger." He confessed truthfully. "If I truly loved my woman, there would be nothing that could tear me apart from her."

She stared at him with those big brown orbs. A small smile crept up on her lips at his reply. The wizard returned the gesture.

"Now," Draco clapped his hands and rubbed them together. "What are you going to do about your dancing for your wedding night?"

Granger changed her facial expression to a confused look.

"I think I am skilled enough to survive the night. Thank you very much!" She raised her voice.

"Please. You cannot dance." He snickered.

"What do you mean I can't dance?" She screeched.

"I saw you at your birthday party, Granger. Two left feet."

"Okay, perhaps I am not the most graceful person in a ballroom but I'm positive I am not disastrous."

The record player on the shelf came to a soft pause, before a new song began to play. A soft symphonic sound that gave Draco an idea. Standing from his side of the rug, the man with little left to lose walked over to Granger and held out his hand. The soothing vocals of Ray Charles' 'Come Rain or Come Shine' filled the space between them.

"What are you doing?" She looked up in horror, knowing perfectly well what he was doing,

"Stand up. I'm going to show you how to dance."

Maybe it was the idea of having her hand wrapped in his again, or the knowledge that he wouldn't have moments like this ever again, Draco risked everything that his head was yelling at him not to do.

It took less persuasion than he thought it would, but she took his hand and pulled herself up to be level with his chest. Her touch made his heart glow a dim amber. Draco dragged her over to the empty floor space behind the couches.

He placed his hand upon her lower back, pulling her close to his body. The movement caused the flow of her skirt to swish, caressing the back of his trousers. Repositioning his left hand, and her right, he raised the clasp to sit at their side just below his shoulders. She gently let her other hand rest on the edge of his right arm.

He wanted to bathe in this moment.

"Follow my lead."

"Okay." She breathed.

A few seconds passed before Draco took the first step back, noticing his partner looking at the floor to make sure she didn't step on his toes. Of course Granger was worried about hurting him.

Taking lead, the pureblood directed the muggle-born around the living room. Granger was not as bad a dancer as he had assumed. Maybe she was better with a more suited partner. No doubt Weasley's heavy feet faulted her.

The world slipped away from them as they swayed in unison. He was not the man who paid to have his father murdered, and she was not the woman set to marry her childhood best friend. The orchestra and raspy vocals stripped them of their identities, gifting them a moment they both desired.

The amber that sizzled in Draco's heart had sparks spitting. Burning to be something more.

Neither spoke a word. They just danced in the living room. Once and a while, he would lift his arm and she would twirl beneath it. Her hair swirling with the motion. Eventually, their pace had begun to slow down without either of them knowing, almost instinctive of the pair. Just as Draco was about to open his mouth to say something that could ruin the moment, Granger rested her cheek against his chest.

The wizard clenched his eyes shut, never wanting to forget this feeling. This was so much more than he had planned. Her hair tickled his chin, so he dropped his face to sit on the top of her head. Violins filled the room. Two former enemies lost in the sound.

A wildfire had ignited inside his heart, bursting at the seams.

But the moment passed too soon.

The vinyl had spun to an end, with the scratch of the pin lifting from the record, their feet came to a stop. Was this a memory painted between friends? More than friends? Draco figured if he spoke first, he wouldn't have to deal with the embarrassment of her rejection.

"I spoke too soon. Your ballroom etiquette is a lot more up to par than I had assumed." His voice hoarse as he spoke, pulling away from the sweet touch. "Just ensure you practice with Weasley's heavy feet before the celebration."

He didn't have the courage to look her in the eyes. Resorting to cleaning up the glasses on the floor and taking them into the kitchen, Draco knew he had risked too much. Leaning against the counter top in the room hidden from Granger's sight, he cursed himself for now having to live with the memory of being so close to the forbidden woman he craved.

The wildfire that spread across his heart was now just burnt coal, still warm from the feel of her face against his chest.

Pulling himself back together quick enough to not cause suspicion, Draco strode back into the living room only to see that she wasn't there. The smell of floo powder lingered from her exit.

Draco walked over to his small library, his blood boiling and began to pull binders from the shelving.

"Fucking IDIOT!" He screamed, throwing books across the room.

Hermione Granger stumbled out of the fireplace into the back of her sofa. Hands gripping onto the framing as she leant against the furniture for support. She needed to get out of there. Her lungs felt like they were collapsing in on themselves, and there was way too much alcohol in her system.

What the hell was she doing? Hermione knew that going to Malfoy's house was adding fuel to the flame of destroying her relationship with Ron. She was supposed to be keeping her distance from Malfoy, not slow dancing with him around his living room. The witch was well aware of the feelings she was developing for him, and completely ignored every red flag that waved in front of her. Malfoy did not see her in that way, and even if he did it was purely out of sexual tension.

Ron was the one she loved. Ron was the one that loved her.

A wave of nausea crashed over Hermione, so she ran into her bathroom, quick enough to vomit into the toilet. Regurgitated wine coming back up out of her stomach, cleansing her body from the toxic liquid.

Hermione groaned, lifting her head from the bowl and wiped her mouth with a piece of tissue paper. This was not the day off that she had originally planned. Drunk and right back where she started before her birthday.

Oh how young Hermione would look upon her olderself with appalment. Gone were the days of school and saving wizardkind, now they were replaced by love trails and alcohol indulgence.

Adulthood.

Getting up off the cold floor of her bathroom, Hermione stood in front of the sink mirror. Staring into the soul of the woman before her. Bloodshot eyes, burdened with dark bags beneath them. Flushed cheeks and untamed hair. When did she become such a mess? More importantly, when was she ever going to stop being a mess?