"Fuck! Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuckity fuck! Bugger. Fuck" It's like a chant in Draco's head. A mantra. A eulogy in Greek, Latin and obviously French praising his clumsiness. Creating the single most embarrassing moment of his adult life. Bar none.
It plays in repeat in his head, an infinite loop as he looks over at Hermione cheerfully reclining on the rug and cushions he had arranged for them at the top of Tower Bridge and seeping her tea. She looks content, almost pleased to be here with him. When not but a few minutes ago, she was about to plunge to the river below in the most ungraceful fashion.
Speaking of grace, Draco cannot quite believe how easily she shrugged the incident off and moved on to enjoy the setting of their date. He would have expected at the very least some recriminations, most likely followed by severe admonishments, she could have demanded a grovelling apology, maybe even declared the date over, swearing to never see him again?
But no.
She moved on and let it go.
And Draco receives it like a gift. Well, a gift with a potty mouth soundtrack. When he thinks about it, he realises that in that second the broom smacked her head, he was actually the one in freefall, the situation running away from him. But once her initial fright was over, she had handed the controls firmly back to him. With her small hands handling the porcelain saucer so delicately, bringing the cup to her pouting lips, blowing off the steam on the surface of her tea. While it appears that she was simply holding a cup of tea, she is actually holding his heart.
Your heart and your loins too. Pipes Draco's brain once the litany of swear words has run its course. He had seen her from afar earlier, climbing the hill, her hips swaying in tight muggle denims highlighting her form. The knee-high boots she was wearing for warmth emphasised her shapely hips and rear. And Merlin when she had reached the top, she had rosy cheeks and was slightly out of breath, her curls bouncing in the morning breeze. He had been struck dumb for so long that she had to be the one opening up the conversation. She was glorious and he was in trouble. He has to steer this date back on track.
"So, the Tower of London…" Draco interrupts her quiet appraisal of the views.
"I have to admit, I grew up in London and I've never been here." Hermione responds, turning to look over the imposing castle.
"I figured that. Most people haven't. It was originally a timber stronghold built by the conquering Normans after their victory in Hastings in …"
"1066." Chirps Hermione.
Draco smiles. "Ten points to Gryffindor!" Hermione responds with the eyeroll she had saved from earlier, deservedly so, although served with a smirk for good measure.
"In fact, the very first Malfoy can be traced back to that Norman conquest." Draco continues as she turns to observe him more closely. "His name was Armand Malefoi, and he was a wizard of little renown back in France. But he struck a deal with young William not-yet-a-conqueror, offering his services to further the bastard's claim to the English throne."
"I envy you, being able to trace your ancestry so far back." Hermione gushes. "Between patchy muggle record keeping, natural children and foundlings, I can barely trace mine back to the late 1800's!" Draco is bowled over by her candour. Here she is discussing her family's provenance without any false pretences, nor is she seeking praise for a feigned humility. She is just who she is. Unapologetically herself, and why should she make excuses for her origins? She, unlike him, has nothing to be ashamed of.
"What else do you know of this Armand? What happened to his family back in France?" She continues, chatting away.
"I was just thinking you can't really know where you're going until you know where you've been." Draco answers cryptically.
"That's kind of deep for a first date, don't you think?" Hermione tries for levity, but Draco has an important message to deliver.
"Our dear Armand made his fortune alongside William of Normandy's, and had irrevocably left behind … his French muggle family." Hermione gasps softly in surprise, scanning Draco's profile inquisitively. "You see, I discovered this family secret when I was awaiting my trial in house arrest, after the Battle of Hogwarts." Draco stubbornly stares ahead, "I was in the cellars, casting incendio to clear out the pain and memories within, when I stumbled upon a concealed door leading to a room dating back to the foundation of Malfoy Manor. It uncovered a study, still perfectly preserved under stasis, most assuredly Armand's own. It was full of all sorts of old parchments and vellums written in Latin."
Draco inhales sharply and turns back to stare at Hermione. "The wanker fabricated an entire pureblood backstory to manipulate William and earn his trust. He wanted to maintain a sense of superiority on the muggle king, but more importantly he played his hand to ingratiate himself to no other but Salazar Slytherin, founder of Hogwarts." Draco scoffs. "A fraud and a sycophant. That's my family's legacy. Malefoi indeed."
He breathes in deeply, he's said his piece and feels lighter already, but the hardest part is yet to come. "Since then I've found it easy to know where I'm going: exactly in the opposite direction of where I've come from." Draco has a hard time maintaining eye contact but soldiers on anyway. "And I owe you an apology: for the years of torment and name calling. For the abuse and pain. For being an imbecile, a bully and a coward." He steals himself with fervour. "Hermione Granger, I humbly hope that I can help clear a path forward for us. You would do me the greatest honour in accepting my most sincere apology."
Hermione's hand has moved up to her throat of its own accord. She is slowly caressing the outline of the scar on her neck, the only outward sign of her torture at the hand of Bellatrix Lestrange. A silver thread across her neck, sewing the suffering of that day at Malfoy Manor together with her healing and survival. Representing both pain and victory. "Apology accepted." she says quietly, "And thank you." She lowers her hand to take another sip of her tea. "It can't have been easy to own up to the truth, and even harder to learn your family's secret. But I thank you for your courage in telling me all this. I want you to know that I wouldn't be here today if I still held a grudge, yet it still means a lot to me all the same."
She lowers the cup, turning back to him quickly. "So tell me, how does the assault fit with your apology?" She struggles to keep her chuckle under control.
Draco groans. "Fuuuuuuuck … I'm never going to live this down, am I?"
Hermione loses the fight with her laughter and lets it bubble out brightly from the top of Tower Bridge.
Draco feels better about his programme for the second part of the date. After another scenic flight over London, they will alight close to the Royal Albert Hall, walk across Kensington Gardens and end up at a little pub in Notting Hill for a spot of Sunday lunch. No more family drama.
They touch down in a quiet mews, just below a small church at the bottom of a cul-de-sac. Draco gently grabs Hermione's hand and pulls her behind the arches at the mouth of the cobble-stone alley for privacy. "You can drop the disillusionment charm now." He instructs her softly, already casting his own reducio on his broom.
Hermione lifts the charm absently. She scans her surroundings with the beginning of a frown on her face and a look of mild concern. "This is Kynance mews, isn't it?" She asks Draco almost fearfully.
Draco's confidence is starting to erode at Hermione's subdued tone "Why yes, I believe it is actually. Just up the steps and through the gate and you end up on …."
"Victoria Road!" Hermione shrieks loudly as she darts up the steps, leaving a confused Draco behind struggling to catch up with her as she races ahead.
Hermione stops abruptly in front of a terraced house, white stucco covered with an overhanging wisteria. She lets out the most heart wrenching wail that Draco has ever heard and falls to her knees as ragged sobs rip through her.
"I saw that going differently in my mind." He barely admits out loud.
"I hadn't been back since that fateful day." Hermione pats her cheeks softly to soothe the burn left by her tears. "The obliviation was successful, both a blessing and a curse." She continues with the story, her voice cracking.
"My parents left for Australia the day after, and settled there permanently. I tried to have the memory charm reversed after the war, but I had been too emotional when casting the original spell. It had permanently damaged their brains and any further attempts at reversing it could have been lethal."
They are sitting on a stone bench, sheltered in the shadow of the local church and ensconced in the vicarage's garden. Hermione is finally at peace, but still languid with a lingering sorrow. Draco doesn't need his professional acumen to tell him that the date is over.
"I'm really sorry. When I spoke with Tracey Davis she said you two grew up in the same neighbourhood and I assumed it would have been a nice touch." Draco shakes his head in defeat and disbelief at how monumental a failure this date has been.
Hermione shrugs it off and concedes. "Don't feel bad about it, very few people know the whole story. Even amongst my closest friends it's not something that is widely known. It still hurts too much to talk about it most days."
She gets lost in thoughts for a few seconds, her eyes mechanically drifting in the direction of the house, even though they cannot see it from their spot in the garden. Then she comes back to herself with a feeble smile and simply says "I think I'd like to go home. I'm too fraught for apparition..." He interrupts her gently. "Let me help you get a cab."
They walk the short distance to Gloucester Road in silence where he flags a black cab for her. She climbs in and looks up as Draco holds the door. "Thank you … for today … it was…"
"A train wreck." He finishes for her. Draco can barely stand to look into her mournful eyes. She manages a weak smile in parting.
Draco leans forward to bid Hermione goodbye but somehow manages to catch the front of his unbuttoned jacket in the door as it shuts. The cab speeds away, trailing the jacket, and the jacket almost trails Draco, but his overtaxed reflexes allow him to shimmy out of the garment just in time to not be propelled forward by the taxi.
Incredulous, he stares at the black cab disappearing around the corner, taking Hermione and his jacket away from this abomination of a date.
"Fuck."
Hermione is not about to sprint through the corridors of the Department of Mysteries, but only just. She's still clutching her tea from this morning, even though she's late to meet Luna for dinner and it should be well past tea time.
She's been craving tea at all hours lately to sustain her days, her agitated nights offering her no rest. Nightmares of her parents obliviation plaguing her constantly and depleting much of her energy for anything but work.
She closes the door behind her and pauses. She sniffs her work blouse briefly, then her hair but she pauses short of her armpits. Gosh darn it, that lanolin scent from the shearling jacket still lingers. She would have thought her scalding hot shower coming back from that illustrious date with Malfoy would have washed the smell away. But no, it still hung in the air. Like the memory of a newborn lamb, of a home-knitted pair of woollen mittens, of a snuggling reading session in front of the fire.
She'd better hurry up. Considering how sleep deprived she is these days, she doesn't fancy going through a club crawl looking for Luna.
They meet up at the agreed time and place, an understated conveyor belt sushi restaurant on Brewer Street Hermione discovered recently. They order warm sake to stave off the chill of the autumn night and settle in for a good gossip session.
"It was fun. In a disastrous kind of way." Hermione recounts her date, while pointing at her still slightly bruised forehead even after the episkey. "I mean, this isn't exactly a hickey."
"At least you got good ...what is it that you call it … oh yes… good data out of it, right? Right?" Luna enquires while checking out a young woman waiting in the queue to be seated. "Wait. You're seeing him again?"
"Well, look, you said that I'm always expecting wizards to let me down, right? Assuming that they're going to fail?"
Luna waves at the woman waiting for a seat. "Which he did."
Hermione puts her chopsticks down and looks up whimsically remembering that day. "Yes, but he did it with flair. I mean, Luna, he really flopped."
Luna is a bit puzzled, which arguably doesn't occur often. "And that's a desirable trait?"
"Yes. Odd, isn't it?"
Luna finally seems to focus on the conversation. "I wonder if it has to do with his bisexuality? I am fully in support of rainbow love by the way."
Hermione has a tough time following Luna along. Yes, that is true most days, but especially today. "Sorry Luna, but what do you mean exactly?"
"Oh I didn't tell you? I saw Draco kissing Gregory Goyle in Diagon Alley the other day. Do you remember him from Hogwarts? They were always together. From where I stood it looked like a hot make-up snog, really intense…" Luna's eyes drift upward recalling that day. "Although that said, it looked like they didn't part on the best of terms. Do you think they were quarrelling about you?"
"I'm sorry, what?"