I can see you standing, honey.
With his arms around your body, laughing
but the joke's not funny at all…
New York, U.S.A
13th September 2009
Draco knew he had to see Hermione Granger eventually. It was inevitable, really, and it wasn't for lack of trying on his part. He had tried — he tried cutting her friends out of his life (which admittedly didn't go great when Pansy Parkinson, his best friend, started dating Harry Potter, her best friend), he tried moving to Muggle London (which again, did not pan out as he had suspected when he couldn't get a bloody stove work and nearly burned down his flat), he even tried moving to America (that had omitted the presence of Granger but he had another coming if he thought it'd remove her memories). But none of it worked. He knew it wouldn't but some stubborn part of his mind insisted that if he tried hard enough — manifested hard enough — he'd be able to avoid Hermione Granger forever.
But he knew he had to see Hermione Granger again. He just didn't expect it to be so soon — three years was no time to forget such a magnificent witch. Even spending two years in bloody America under the sun, fucking around with pretty girls who thought his accent was attractive hadn't been able to erase Hermione Bloody Granger from his mind.
He knew he had to see her again. He just didn't want it to be like that — courtesy of Pansy Parkinson. He could turn her down, of course, but unless he wanted her to come to New York and hex Draco's balls off, he had no choice but attend her wedding to the Chosen One. and quite frankly, he didn't want to miss another one of his friend's milestones because he'd been so terrified of meeting Hermione Granger again.
He knew he had to see her again. He just didn't expect it to be like that. When her last words were still ringing in his ears.
This is working anymore — we are not working anymore.
He knew he had to see Hermione Granger again — he just wished he could avoid it. Forever.
—
I can see you staring, honey.
Like he's just your understudy, like you'd
get your knuckles bloody for me
London, England
13th September 2009
"Granger," Pansy called her name for the third time in the morning, bringing her back to life, pulling her out of her thoughts. "Alright there?" She nodded, pushing another pin into Pansy's hair, making her hiss. "Fucking hell, woman. What the fuck? Are you trying to kill me on my wedding day?"
"I'm — I'm sorry, Pansy," she mumbled, her face flushed as she looked at her shaking hands. "It's just — I need some air. Daphne, would you mind finishing Pansy's hair?" Without even waiting for her response, she shoved the pins into Daphne's hand, leaving the dressing room in a haste, fighting to gulp down breaths, calming her nerves.
She knew she had to see him again eventually but still, it had hit her like a bludger in the chest when she went through the guest list. "Draco Malfoy's coming? " she had asked Harry in a shaking voice, earning the most pitiful look she had in her life from her best friends. "He's Pans' best friend. I couldn't exactly tell her no, Hermione. Are you — going to be alright? " Hermione had said yes. Or something like that. She couldn't quite recall, too busy being swallowed in the past. Their past. Now, she tried to shake herself out of it.
Breathe, she urged herself. She had to. She knew she had to see him again. Of course, she did. Her best friend was dating his best friend — they were bound to meet sometime. It was just — just. Three years was a long time — almost as long as their relationship. It was long enough to make her forget about him in her normal routine. To forget that there used to be a time when she woke up next to him. That there used to be a time when she wasn't just Hermione — they were "Hermione and Draco". A package deal. It was enough time for her to go on without remembering him on a daily basis.
Not nearly enough time for her to be ready to see him. To face a failed past. She wasn't used to failure. She wasn't used to having marks she hadn't conquered, things that weren't eventually successful, failures she hadn't erased. She couldn't possibly erase a human being now, could she?
She knew she had to see Draco Malfoy again — she just wished she could avoid it. Forever.
—
And it took you five whole minutes
to pack us up and leave me with it
Holding all this love out here in the hall
London, England
13th September 2009
He was jet-lagged and he was most definitely going to miss the rehearsal dinner. Even though Pansy had insisted that he use an International Portkey, he found that travelling by plane was probably the best resort — it gave him time to think, to carefully ready himself for meeting Hermione Granger, to be able to pack the missing, the yearning and the screaming and put them in their respective places: at the back of his mind. It also gave him a reason to skip the rehearsal dinner and consequently, avoid seeing Granger that evening.
Making his way through many muggles went as smoothly as it could've with his foul mood and dark thoughts as his eyes looked for Theo in the crowd. Theo — the most acquainted with the Muggle technology between his friends — had taken it upon himself to ready the guest room in his flat — previously shared by the two before he moved in with Hermione — for Draco and picked him up at the airport. He could've gone to the Malfoy Manor — if he hadn't burned it to the ground.
Two years ago, before he flew to America, he set his Estate on fire and watched it burn. No one really knew who had done it but everybody knew. She certainly did. He couldn't leave it standing, having carried so many memories and tainted scars. He couldn't let the infectious place stand and he needed something to be burned to the ground because he couldn't set the damned memories on fire. He watched it burn and then caught a flight.
"Draco!" Theodore called out his name as his eyes searched, flinging his long limbs around in the air to catch Draco's attention. With a sigh, he made a nod of acknowledgement, walking over to Theo. "Took you long enough, mate."
"Fancy seeing you here as well, Nott," Draco snarled, earning a light-hearted chuckle from Theo. It had been a year since he last saw him when he visited him in America. It had been two since he last stepped on British soil. He tried not to dwell on it, not to allow himself to think about all the way the scene was far too familiar, still carrying so many memories. He tried to focus on Theo and how he'd gotten a new haircut — or rather, hadn't gotten any haircut. He had gathered his hair in a man bun.
"Missed you, too, Malfoy," Theo snarled, walking ahead toward the exit. "I figured you'd be too tired to apparate so I bought my car."
"You drive a car?"
"Got my license six months ago," Theo shrugged. "It's soothing to go around with it. Very convenient, too."
"I'd know — I drive one."
"You do realize our ancestors are probably rolling in their graves because of this conversation, right? I can hear Abraham Nott trying to tear my eardrums with his hysterical screaming."
"Abraxas Malfoy is probably crying tears," Draco shrugged with a smirk.
"And you've got a tint of an American accent — honestly, Malfoys are crying in the Underworld."
"Let them," Draco said, trying his best American accent, earning a peal of laughter from Theo.
"Very nice," he grinned as they placed Draco's luggage in the trunk, settling into their seats. "Are you sure you don't want to attend the rehearsal dinner? Pansy's ordered two courses of whatever is the fanciest. Merlin knows I don't know the name of a single one of them."
"I'm exhausted," Draco explained. "I'd much rather skip."
"Because you are exhausted or because Granger's there?" Theo asked, the mention of Hermione's name making Draco's mouth go dry. He didn't expect her to come up in conversation this soon. He wasn't ready — it wasn't the protocol. Draco didn't answer the question. He couldn't come up with anything. Theo noticed the heavy silence, attempting to fill it. "Blaise wanted to skip the rehearsal dinner because he wanted to see you."
"Really?" Draco asked, his tone betraying him, showing how surprised he was. Theo shrugged, not tearing his eyes away from the road.
"He says so," Theo smirked. "But I think it's because he's desperate to skip rehearsal dinner. Pansy's been on a bit of a spiral these past few days. Bride's nerves, they say but honestly, she's turned into a manic."
"Last time I checked, it was frowned upon to badmouth a bride on her rehearsal dinner night."
"Last time I checked, I didn't give a shit," Theo snarled, a habit he had picked up from Draco in their Hogwarts days. Draco smirked.
"Pansy would've pulled your tongue out if she knew you just said that," Draco shrugged.
"Then how about we not tell her?" Theo glanced at Draco, a hint of mischief in his eyes. "I am very fond of my tongue, I'm sure you know." Draco chuckled, grateful that Theo had been able to direct his mind away from Hermione but as soon as he pulled away in front of his — previously their — flat, Draco's heart skipped a beat, his mouth going dry again. It was too much. He should've booked a hotel. He should've gone anywhere but there.
"Draco," Theo's voice grounded him again as he forced his eyes to tear away from the building and look at Theo. "It's just a building. It doesn't mean anything." He tried to nod, tried to let Theo's word get into his head and convince him. But they didn't. It wasn't just a building. It was where they shared their first kiss — where they first said 'I love you', where they had their first fight and where she had thrown him a surprise birthday party. It wasn't just a building.
"I know," he said. He lied. He didn't know. He just knew that it was already harder than he anticipated. He shouldn't have come.
This isn't working anymore — we're not working anymore.
—
London, England
2nd July 2004
Her eyes were focused, holding a lock of her hair hostage between her fingers, moving it around with extreme concentration, paying no regard to Draco staring at her whatsoever. A smile tugged at his lips, looking at his girl — his. "What are you working on?" he asked, leaning back on the chair, pressing his legs up to hers, making her flush even as her eyes hovered over the page.
"I'm trying to read Newt Scamander's biography for the third time — make sure I haven't missed any noteworthy things that can be used for this Magical Creatures' Right regulation program," Hermione said with a pout, looking up at him. "But a certain someone is not letting me focus."
"I'm flattered that I affect you this much, Granger," Draco said with a smirk, standing up from his seat, moving toward her at a painfully slow rate, making her bite her lower lip as her eyes flickered down, her face flushing deeper. "But I can be very non-distracting if you give me what I want." His voice was dark, deep as he leaned down and allowed the words to hit her ear shell. She was breathing difficulty, her hands balled into a fist.
It's what I do to her — only me. My girl.
"Draco," she breathed his name as he pulled the fabric of her skirt up, allowing his fingers to leisurely track her soft skin, drawing deliberate shapes on her inner thigh, earning a well-deserved moan.
"Yes, love?" he breathed, his tongue making a point as he licked her ear shell, earning another moan of his name with a smirk.
"What do you want?" she breathed, her voice high-pitched and shaking. Draco pulled away, denying her any kind of touch as he feigned innocent eyes, looking at her. She pouted at the lack of Draco's heat, looking flushed and yet ready to negotiate a deal with Draco.
"Let me get you off," he said with a smirk. "You don't even have to stop reading. I'll do my job under the table."
She looked at the book in her hands — her one true love — and back at Draco, licking her lips thoughtfully, pressing her lips together as if she was making a pros and cons list in her head. He smiled at the woman in front of him as she finally looked at him with determined eyes. "Okay."
"Okay?"
"As long as you are very quick and thorough," she challenged with a smirk.
"Oh, I do love being thorough," Draco returned the challenge, pushing her chair back to give himself space to kneel between her legs, forcing them open, his hands softly touching the fabric of her knickers. "What will I get if I am very, very thorough, Hermione?" he breathed, noticing how her breath caught at the mention of her given name.
"G-Good things," she stammered as he pressed open mouthed kisses to her thigh, yanking her knickers down to reveal her painfully wet and flushed pelvis. With a smirk, he allowed his tongue to inch closer to her but never quite reached her clit, just tracing a wet trace along her thighs, earning a hiss as her hands struggled to keep the book in place and keep herself from closing her eyes.
"You mustn't forget the rules," Draco growled against her skin. "Keep reading."
"I — Draco…"
"When was Newt Scamander born?" Draco asked devilishly, allowing his fingers tips to trace her shape but never enter her. She hissed. "Granger, do you not know the answer?"
"I — Draco, please, I —" her breath caught the moment his tongue finally hovered over her clit, licking her clit, his fingers rubbing circles on her inner thought. Her muscles were tight, contracted already.
"You are being a very bad girl, now, Granger," he hissed playfully, pulling away, looking at her flushed face from between her legs with innocent eyes. "You are ruining the game. Answer the question, love — what creatures are you planning on liberating?"
"Right now, just myself," Hermione retorted with an angry hiss. "Come on, Draco, please," she whined, her nose scrunched up.
"I do like it when my woman begs," he hissed, feeling a familiar, deliciously painful twitch in his trousers before going down on her, showing the first finger in, turning it around carefully, adding a second one quickly after, earning an eager hiss from Hermione as he retracted, delving in with his tongue. Her thighs were shivering, her body jerking up as he held her in the chair. The loud thud showed that she had let go of the bloody book as he tightened around his fingers, showing the release was near.
"Draco," she moaned her name, trying to close her legs but Draco kept them open, teasing her skin with his tongue as his fingers dug deeper, playfully moving around. "Oh — Draco. " With that an ever familiar hiss groan left her throat, releasing on her fingers as she panted with the climax of her orgasm. Draco smirked, pulling away, licking his fingers clean as he stared at Hermione.
"Quickly," he drawled. "And thorough. Very, very thorough." She nodded, her face still flushed. "Now, my reward, Granger."
"What," she gasped, "what do you want?
"Move in with me," he said, his confidence slowly evaporating, being replaced with a nervous knot in his gut as he looked at her. Her head jerked up, her half-open eyes fully open now, staring at him with confusion.
"What?"
"Let's — move in together. I'm so sick of having Theo as my roommate and you have a perfectly good and mostly empty flat you aren't sharing with anyone. I can be very quick and thorough every time you are reading," Draco explained, trying to keep it very nonchalant and not allow the nervous edge from clouding his statement.
"Are you — Merlin, are you sure?" Hermione stammered, her eyes glinting with excitement and the heat of her orgasm still. Draco pressed his lips together, nodding firmly, making a show of licking his index finger once again, reveling on seeing the dark look on Hermione's face. "Yes! Okay — let's — move in together, Draco."
—
London, England
5th February 2006
"I'm not coming home tonight," Draco's cold voice echoed through the dimly lit living room as Hermione continued reading her book, not looking up from it to spare him a second glance.
"Okay," Hermione only said, dismissing him without a glance. He waited for another word — a question, maybe. Where are you going? She should've asked. But she only went on reading, not paying any more attention to Draco. He wanted to scream at her — to ask her what the hell was her problem? What was he doing wrong? Did she not give a shit about —
"I'm going to Theo's," he added, hoping to get a reaction from her.
"Okay," she repeated again, sounding like a broken record. Draco's jaw clenched and unclenched, his hands aching to break something. Instead, he turned on his heels and walked out, slamming the door behind him.
—
This isn't working anymore — we aren't working anymore.
Maybe he should've seen the signs.
—
Second, third and hundredth chances
Balancing on breaking branches
Those eyes add insult to injury…
London, England
13th September 2009
For the third time that night, Hermione froze, certain that she had seen Draco. When the tall man turned, Hermione noticed it wasn't him. Then, she noticed his blond hair was strawberry whilst Draco's hair was barely white. Then, she realized there probably wasn't any reason for her to mistake the two except the bloody nerves. She realized she was waiting for Draco Malfoy to show up. Maybe he wouldn't — she hoped that he couldn't.
"Mione," Ron called her name from her back, making her jump three feet into the air, turning to face him rather flushed and breathless. "Woah, a little touchy there."
"It's nothing," Hermione said. It was nothing. Maybe he wouldn't show up at all. Maybe — hopefully. "I'm just nervous is all."
"You could do with a drink," Ron smiled, offering her his drink. She took it gratefully, quickly pressing the glass to her lips and gulping it down. The bitter liquid burns her throat, making her shudder. "Blimey — that was fast."
"Nerves, Ronald," Hermione snapped, pressing the glass to his chest until he took and she walked away. Where the fuck was Draco Malfoy? She took another deep breath, trying to press onto her temples and not think about the last time she was at a wedding — Neville and Luna's. Draco was with her back then, nearly four years ago. She closes her eyes and the memories of that night floods into her mind
—
London, England
21st June 2005
"Will you stop that?" Hermione hissed when Draco's hand raised to fix his tie for the fifth time that evening. he was restless, that much was obvious, but it still infuriated Hermione to no end, the way he was wiggling next to her as if he was a child, not a blasted adult. She huffed.
"Would you rather I curse Weasley's balls off?" Draco retorted back. "He's ogling at you like he's a fucking hawk."
"Ronald and I are just friends," Hermione sighed, shaking her head. She was so tired of having this conversation with him over and over again. And not in Neville and Luna's wedding, for Merlin's sake. "Gods, Draco. Can you not just get through the night without any fights — please? Just for once?"
"For once?" Draco's tone was angry, rolling his eyes as the people around them applauded for the bride and groom's first dance. Hermione had missed that because of Draco — another missed blessing because of the Slytherins git, she supposed. "I 've lost count of how many times I've tolerated this "one nights" of yours because you wanted me to. Now I can't even fix my bloody tie?"
"Sod off, Draco," she hissed, standing up and walking away.
—
London, England
13th September 2009
"He's not coming for the night," the quiet voice of Harry interrupted her thoughts as she turned on her heels and faced her bestfriends. "Pansy just told me. He got here from the US today — said he was jet-lagged."
"He flew here? By a plane?" Hermione asked, not able to keep the surprise out of her tone. Harry only shrugged, looking unbothered.
"He's not coming," he repeated again. Hermione only nodded.
—
Paris, France
11th March 2004
"It was extraordinary, Granger!" Draco exclaimed, his voice much like an excited child's, imitating Teddy Lupin closely as his eyes sparkled. "Muggles are brilliant , I'm telling you! A bunk of metal flying over the countries with no magic! Bloody brilliant!"
Hermione laughed. It was endearing to look at him. "Are you laughing at me?" Draco asked with a small pout, carefully looking at her. She shook her head, leaning close.
"I'm adoring you, Draco Malfoy," she whispered before pressing a kiss to his lips.
—
I think I've seen this film before and
I didn't like the ending…
You're not my homeland anymore,
So what am I defending now?
You were my town, now I'm in exile, seeing you out
I think I've seen this film before
London, England
14th September 2009
"Well, my my, don't you look ravishing, Malfoy," Theo teased, making Draco roll his eyes as he struggled to keep his tie straight, fixing his formal robes. "Would you be so inclined to accompany me as my date, my gracious sir?" The bloody oaf was trying to imitate a French accent making Draco cringe as he listened to him.
"Fuck right off, Nott," Draco hissed, finally satisfied with the war his robes were framing his figure, stepping away from the mirror. He had been asleep for the better part of the day, nursing his jet lag and his nauseating fear by drowning in a Dreamless Sleep. Theo had slapped him awake — and had gotten hexed in the process — two hours ago, throwing him in the bloody shower and yelling at him to get ready because neither of them deserves to die at such a young age in Pansy's hands. He had obliged, of course.
"Draco," his serious tone pulled Draco out of his thoughts as his grey eyes focused on Theo. "Are you sure you are up for this?"
"For what?" Draco wasn't a moron — he knew for what. But acting like a moron was the only thing buying him time to wreck his brain and come up with an answer convincing enough.
"Are you really going to make me say it?" Theo growled. "For meeting Granger again."
"If Weasley can meet her regularly, I can surely handle an evening," Draco answered, trying to sound nonchalant. Theo, though, could see right through his bullshit.
"Weasley wasn't in love with her — not the way you were — and Weasley didn't move to fucking America to avoid seeing his ex-girlfriend so I'd lean toward the situation is not similar?" Theo's mocking tone prickled at his nerves.
"It's not about her," Draco deadpanned. "It's Pansy's night. It's not about fucking Granger."
"Fucking Granger? As in you plan to —"
"Shut the fuck up, Nott," Draco growled. "Now would you activate your floo or are you just as buggered in floo'ing as you are in shutting up?"
"Foul mood, I get it," Theo snarled, walking toward the fireplace. "But don't say I didn't warn you."
"I'm here for Pansy," Draco repeated again before stepping into the floo.
—
"I wasn't sure if you'd show up," Blaise said as they took their seats in the third row and he fought not to let his gaze slip to the first row, seeing Hermione next to the Weasley clan.
"It's Pansy's wedding," Draco deadpanned as Theo threw a look at Blaise.
"You know what I mean," he sighed. "I didn't think you were up for —"
"It's Pansy's wedding," Draco interrupted Blaise with a cold glare. "I'm here for my childhood friend. Of course, I wouldn't miss it for the world."
He wasn't lying. He wouldn't. Pansy had been through enough shit that when she said she had fallen in love with The Boy Who Couldn't Just Fuck Off From Draco's Life, he didn't make a snarky remark nor did he drag her to get her brain checked. He congratulated her and wished her well because it was what Pansy deserved. Good things. He wasn't about to make her wedding about himself and his laughable love life.
"You can admit that you don't —" Blaise started.
"I am not admitting anything," Draco snapped at his friend with a cold tone, standing up. "Now, hush. The bride is walking down the aisle."
—
Hogwarts, Scotland
30th December 2003
The air was cold, the night wind making bones shake with the chill. Hermione's nose was red, sniffling against her fuzzy gloves as she looked at him. "Sorry, I didn't think it'd take this long," she said, pressing the books to her chest. She was there to collect some books about her latest project in the Ministry and since she had forgotten to pick them up earlier, she had them go there on New Year's Eve.
"You know, Granger, you are a witch capable of casting Warming Spells," Draco said, walking over to her and instead of casting the spell himself, he covered her nose with lips, kissing the tip of it. She smiled as he pulled away, her face more flushed.
"But I have you to keep me warm," she simply shrugged, taking his hand as she shifted the books to her other arm, balancing them out. "It's strange that last time we were here, everything was destroyed and now… it's just the same."
"It's evolved, Granger — healed itself," Draco offered, stopping in his tracks as she tripped, turning to face him. "Like we did."
"Hm-mm," Hermione hummed as Draco leaned in awfully close to her.
"It's near midnight," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Yes…"
"And we are here."
"I know. We should go home," and despite her words, she made no movement to pull away or to make them walk to Hogsmeade to apparate away. Both of them knew that there was no way they could make it back to London before the New Year's.
"I think we should kiss," Draco said matter of factly, inching closer to her to the point where their noses were touching, their foreheads leaning against each other.
"Why?"
"It's almost the New Year, I want to kiss my girlfriend. It's tradition," Draco explained, murmuring against her skin. "You know how adamant we, Purebloods, are about tradition."
—
London, England
14th September 2009
She had a date, which was the first thing Draco noticed. Quite frankly, he hadn't meant to allow his gaze to slip toward her. He hadn't meant to spare her as much as a glance. He wasn't there for her — he wasn't there to be a miserable prat and dwell about the girl who dumped him three years ago. But she had a date. He didn't know the guy — was he from Hogwarts? — but he was in Hermione's space, muttering to her in her ears as she threw her head back and started laughing like her fucking life depended on it. Draco tried to stop himself from snarling at the scene like a hungry wolf as he looked away, draining his glass of Champagne in one gulp.
"Thought it wasn't about Granger," Theo said, making him jump in the air as he had sneaked up on him. "And yet you are one glare short of making the poor man drop dead."
"It's not about Granger," Draco shrugged, determined not to let his eyes fall on the scene once more. "I just — I happened to glance their way. It's not like there are many familiar faces here."
Theo only hummed as if he didn't buy a word he had said and yet he was trying to pretend like he was — and failing miserably, at that. "He's not her date," Theo offered out of the blue, shrugging as he sipped on his drink. Draco cocked an eyebrow as he looked at him. "That's Charlie Weasley — Weasel's brother. "
Ah, he should've guessed from the big pile of red hair on the wanker's head. He was too busy gritting his teeth to actually take notice of anything but how close they were standing. "I don't see how that's any of my business."
Theo looked at him, his brown eyes unimpressed as if he was looking through his bloody soul. "Yeah, me neither," he finally said, trying to straighten his back — and failing. He was somehow always slouching — and added, "Come on. The best man is about to give a speech." Draco nodded, glancing at them one last time. The easy aura around Granger was gone, a thoughtful expression on her face as Charlie Weasley touched her shoulder, saying something to her, as she nodded, walking away as well. Draco tore his eyes away.
It was not about Granger.
—
I think I've seen this film before and
I didn't like the ending…
I'm not your problem anymore,
So who am I offending now?
You were my crown, now I'm in exile seeing you out.
I think I've seen this film before
So I'm leaving out the side door
London, England
14th September 2009
"That was how I met Harry Potter — a kid in oversized clothes and broken glasses who had enough money to buy the damned train who shared his chocolate with me," Ronald said, smiling at Harry. "As for his wife, though, I can't say she made the best first impression." His statement earned some laughs from their old Hogwarts classmates while the Slytherins tried to snarl as Pansy rolled her eyes. Hermione smiled at the crowd before her eyes got fixed on a certain someone.
Draco Malfoy.
There, sitting between Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini, looking amused and bored at the same time as Theo muttered something to him and his signature smirk appeared, shaking his head, loosening his tie only slightly. The sight made Hermione almost choke on her drink. All night long, Hermione had tried not to think about the fact that he was there. She had tried to keep herself from scrolling through the crowd to find him. She had even tried not to think of him to the point that all she had thought of all night long was him. It was infuriating, honestly, to be so obsessed with the person she had not seen for the past three years.
He looked so different from the man she used to love and yet so similar. His skin was tanner, his hair cut short, buzzed at the side. He was still wearing tailored suits with gold cufflinks but his face had deeper lines, his body sharper edges. He had grown into his looks more than ever, looking like a statue with his slightly loose tie and gorgeously fit suit. Hermione had to physically force herself to look away before it got creepy. He was still Draco Malfoy and yet so different. She didn't know how she felt about that.
At the end of their relationship, she had found it so hard to remember the reasons she had loved him previously. Everything that used to be endearing annoyed her then, every bad habit magnified, making her want to pull her hair out. After their break-up, though, when she was curled under her sheets, trying to sleep off the heartbreak, she only remembered the good stuff. Now, she remembered everything. And this man looked so different from the man that had given her those memories.
She dared glance back at him once more, finding his silver eyes on her as they both froze, their gazes boring into each other. Hermione's heart was drumming in her ears as they looked at each other. His eyes were unashamed and unforgiving like he was picking a fight once again. Like he was ready for a fight.
She wasn't.
She was so bloody tired of fighting. Sighing, she looked away, staring at Ron, trying to keep up with the embarrassing memories of how Ronald had walked in on Harry and Pansy doing it on his couch, making the crowd laugh and Hermione cringe.
She could still feel his gaze on her — burning.
—
London, England
14th, February 2006
Hermione's face was flushed, her heart beating in her chest furiously. She knew things had been rocky these past few months. Maybe their honeymoon phase was over and they had to fight to make this work and she was willing. She glanced at the red lingerie in her hand once more before giggling to herself once more and stripping.
She didn't expect Draco to remember a Muggle holiday like Valentine's Day but she did and she wanted to make it special for him, therefore having purchased a ridiculously expensive — and revealing; honestly, why did they charge so much for so little cloth? — undergarments, slipping them on before Draco came back home.
She glanced at herself in the mirror, looking satisfied with how she looked, the way the laces hugged her curves, leaving little to the imagination and yet making her so powerful. She smiled, putting her normal loose set of pyjamas on and walked out of the room, settling in the armchair, trying to forget how uncomfortable the laces were and read until Draco came home.
It was nearly midnight when her eyes gave out and her frustration got the better of her as she looked up at the clock. 23:14. Where the hell was Draco? He was usually back home by 10 o'clock. She let out an exasperated sigh, walking to the room, trying not to think of her immense disappointment before the door of the house clicked open, making her turn on her heels, realizing that tears were pricking at her eyes.
"I'm so sorry, I'm late. The work —" Draco started but stopped mid-sentence looking at her flushed, upset face. "Hermione?"
"You spoiled everything!" she growled, not able to help herself. She shouldn't have blamed him. He didn't know what she had planned for her. He wasn't at fault but she couldn't help the pang of hurt that he had forgotten. That she had tried to do something and had it all go to waste. That he hadn't thought about owling her to tell her that he could be late. She was mad at herself for trying. She slammed the door of their room shut, waiting — hoping — that he would come after her and ask her what was wrong. That he would come and comfort her and apologize.
She waited — seconds stretching to minutes, minutes to hours — but the only sound that came from the living room was off Draco moving around before finally, everything went silent. She carefully stood up, tip-toeing toward the door. The clock read 12:49. There was an empty bottle of Scotch on the table next to the sofa where Draco had slept on, throwing his clothes around.
Nothing else.
He hadn't come. He had gotten drunk and he had slept.
Hermione struggled to push back the tears. It was rational, she told herself, he had tried to give her space and deal with the confusion and shock and yet still, traitorous tears slipped down her face as she went back to the room. She tore the sweats off and stared at her reflection in the mirror. The set that had made her look sexy merely hours ago now looked ridiculous. She peeled the fabric off her body, throwing them on the bathroom floor before taking out her wand. "Incendio!"
—
London, England
14th September 2009
Everyone was clapping as Harry went up and hugged Ron tight, both men sniffling as they held each other in their arms. Hermione had missed the speech. She sighed, trying to join the crowd with clapping as her eyes glanced at Draco Malfoy.
He still hadn't looked away.
Why wasn't he looking away? She wasn't his problem anymore — she wasn't the little doll he could disappoint anymore. He was no one and she was no one and she was so fed up with thinking that they were. That it meant anything. There were just strangers who knew each other very well.
Why wasn't he looking away?
—
So step right out,
There's no amount of crying
I can do for you.
London, England
14th September 2009
"Pansy, I never thought I'd say this but congratulations on marrying the bloody Chosen One," Draco said, a smirk tugging at his lips as he hugged Pansy tightly, shaking hands with Harry Potter who was laughing. Who knew? Pansy Fucking Parkinson had married Harry Freaking Potter and Draco Bloody Malfoy was shaking hands with the sodding man! It was right out of fifteen-year-old Draco's nightmares!
"Thanks for coming, Malfoy," Potter said, nodding his head with a smile as he looked at Pansy with love and affections in his eyes, making Draco's heart miss a beat. He used to look at — no. This wasn't about Granger.
"It should be illegal for the Boy Who Wouldn't Stop Tormenting Me At Hogwarts to be this happy," Draco snarled, earning a smack on the shoulder from Pansy.
"That's my husband, you git," she said, her eyes sparkling at the word husband as Harry threw him a devilish grin before leaning in to peck Pansy on the lips. Pansy let out a giggle, resting her palm on her husband's arm before looking at Draco with soft eyes. "But really, Draco. It meant a lot to both of us that you came, being in America and all."
"Who are you and what have you done to Pansy Parkinson?" Draco asked, raising an eyebrow. "Pansy you sent me a howler, threatening to cut my bullocks off if I didn't come and I quote, 'didn't stop wallowing up in a fucking hole at the other end of the earth like mad-fucking-man!' and now you are thanking me?" Harry let out a peal of long laughter, making Pansy glare at him before trying to give Draco her best Pureblood Lady expression.
"I got married, Draco. You must try it, too," she said, trying to keep a straight face as she burst into laughter, shaking her head. "Or maybe, Harry told me to stop cursing for the night and thank you for coming."
"Must be the latter, then," Draco shrugged, giving her a smile.
"Am I interrupting something?" A small voice asked, making Draco's smile freeze on his face, stiffening visibly. Hermione Granger with her lovely demeanour, her innocent brown eyes and soft fucking voice. Hermione Granger who shot to kill. Hermione Fucking Granger who had ripped his heart out and thrown it out.
"Not at all," Harry said as Pansy's worried eyes darted away at Draco.
"Congratulations, Pans. again," Draco stammered, his voice ice cold to the point where he shuddered himself. "I think Theo is looking for me. If you will excuse me." He didn't even wait for an answer as he willed himself to walk away.
It wasn't about Hermione Granger.
This isn't working anymore — we aren't working anymore.
—
New York, U.S.A
23rd November 2007
He couldn't will himself to move up from his bed. A year ago, everything had crashed down and he was now giving himself the right to mourn it for a day — to not get up and curl under the sheets and try to sleep the day off. Tears were pricking at his eyes as he hugged himself tightly, listening to the cars honking out in the distance.
The city was so fucking alive — it was moving and crawling and leaving Draco behind. It was pacing forward while Draco couldn't find the power to leave his fucking bed. He hated himself. He hated fucking America and England and Hermione Fucking Granger.
Tears were pricking at his eyes and he was so fucking tired and the world wasn't waiting for him to catch up. Tears spilt out of his eyes and he was so fucking tired.
—
London, England
14th September 2009
Tears were pricking at his eyes. Who the fuck cried at a bloody wedding? The bride, perhaps. Definitely the groom. Not Draco Fucking Malfoy. He forced them back. He was so fucking tired of crying…
—
All this time,
We always walked a
very thin line
London, England
14th September 2009
Hermione hadn't meant to walk up to him — she hadn't meant to seek him out and want to start a conversation. But what could she say? These days, she had done so many things that she didn't want to do. "Draco," she breathed when she reached him, making his turn to look at her with a stoic face and hard eyes. She expected as much, holding her chin up. "Hello."
"What do you want?" His voice was cold, unforgiving.
"I wanted to say hi," Hermione squeaked, hating the way her voice sounded childish and awkward. "It's been a long time."
"Yes, it has," Draco said nonchalantly. "And forgive me if I don't feel like reliving the past, Granger." A shudder ran down her spine and she didn't know if it was because of the chill of September nights or the way he sounded. Not the latter, she hoped. He couldn't hold that kind of power over her anymore. Draco hesitated for a split second before taking off his coat and handing it silently to Hermione. "Put that on, Granger."
Hermione didn't know why she accepted it but she did, slipping it on her bare shoulders — Pansy had insisted on them wearing purple sleeveless dresses. Immediately, she warmed up, letting out a sigh. "Thank you," she breathed. "It's bloody September, it's not supposed to be that cold."
A hollow laugh left Draco's throat. "It's England, Granger. You should know the country's weather is terrible."
"I suppose it's hotter in the US, isn't it?" Hermione said, trying to maintain the civil conversation. This was good — this was moving on.
"I suppose. The winters are not as chilly but the summer is hell. It's literally the temperature I imagine hell would be," Draco shrugged.
"Merlin. You are so dramatic," Hermione said with a light chuckle, Draco's face hardening at the sound, making Hermione feel like she crossed a line.
"Yes, I rather am," Draco deadpanned. "A quality many despise." Hermione winced at the words, looking rather dumbfounded. Yes, she remembered. She remembered saying that and she remembered the way he had looked when she had snapped. Carefully, she peeled the coat away from her body, handing it back to Draco.
"Thank you for the coat," she muttered, her voice rather shaking. "It was — nice seeing you tonight. Enjoy yourself." Hermione didn't wait for him to return the peasantry as she walked away, rather wobbly in the legs.
—
The Burrow, England
3rd April 2004
"It's like everywhere I look, there are more Weasleys. Are they duplicating or something?" Draco scoffed near Hermione's ears, putting her on edge. It was stressful enough to show Draco off without the stress her supposed boyfriend was putting on him. Their first time having dinner there and he was being so bloody dramatic.
"Merlin's sake, Draco! You are being so dramatic!" Hermione scowled, snapping at him as he looked like he had been hit by a bludger in the chest, George and Ron who were in their earshot turning to look at them with confusion. "I'm — sorry. I didn't mean to —" she stammered, inching closer to Draco, trying to entangle their hands.
"It's — alright," he took a deep breath, trying to hide his angry flush. "I was overreacting. Being dramatic, I suppose." He pulled away, glancing at the Weasleys behind her. "I will get some air, yes? Excuse me for a second." And with that, he walked away.
—
You didn't even hear me out
You never gave a warning sign…
All this time,
I never learned to read your mind
Cause you never gave a warning sign
London, England
14th September 2009
His hands were shaking as he tried to find Theo. He needed to go back home. He needed to be driven to the bloody airport and he needed to go fucking home. His house. His place. Away from fucking Granger who was so similar and yet a stranger.
"Draco, what's —"
"Where's Theo, Blaise?"
"With Pansy," Blaise said and as soon as the words left his mouth, Draco shoved him out of the way, taking long steps toward them.
"Draco," Pansy greeted him again with a confused face. "Is there anything wrong?"
Draco clenched his jaw and took a deep breath. It wasn't about Granger. "Not at all," he tried to give them a smile. "I just need Theo to drive me to the airport." He couldn't apparate to a Muggle airport and he didn't know the closest Magical place to the place. He needed a lift. "Something came up — with work back in the US and I need to catch the next flight."
"Are you sure?" Pansy pouted, her eyes glancing toward the brunette but Draco shook his head.
"I'm so sorry, Pans. Congratulations, again on the wedding. Tell Potter he's a lucky guy," he said hastily, looking at Theo who nodded.
"I'll drive him and get back for the cake, Pans," Theo said, putting his drink down. Draco nodded, leaving his coat behind — Granger had touched it. He couldn't take it. He couldn't take anything that had her print on it. It was too fucking much.
He needed to go. It was killing him. Fucking killing him.
—
London, England
23rd November 2006
"Are you not tired of this circle?" she asked, her hands visibly shaking.
"What circle?" he hissed.
"Screaming and fighting and crying!" Hermione shrieked, tears streaming down her face. He hated it. He hated it so fucking much. He wanted to go over and kiss her until she stopped crying. He wanted — no, needed — her to stop crying. It was driving him mad, making his chest roar with anger. STOP FUCKING CRYING, THEN, he wanted to shout. Why was she crying?
"You mean, making mistakes, doing things you know I fucking hate to provoke me and cry when I get angry?" Draco asked coldly, his voice echoing in the room. The way her warm brown eyes turned into cold, wet mud when looking at her made him know that he'd said something wrong.
"You don't hear me," Hermione said, her chin shaking as her voice sounded defeated. They had had many fights — too fucking many for him to count — but never once had her voice sounded so tired. Like she was giving up. "This isn't working — we aren't working anymore." With that, she shook her head, walking to their bedroom. Draco was pinned to his place as the cold started freezing him from inside out.
When he finally remembered how to walk again, he stormed into the bedroom. The sudden opening of the door made her flinch but not long enough for her to stop shoving her clothes into a suitcase. "What the fuck are you doing?" No answer came. Nothing. "Granger —"
He stopped himself as he noticed the tears streaming down her face silently. Silently — like she was done. Silently — like it had been the last straw. Silently — like she didn't hear him. "Granger, what are you doing?" His voice was robotic, almost emotionless as she took it in. she was leaving their home — their flat. She was leaving him. She was done.
No. She couldn't do this. So what they were hurting? So what they had fights? Every fucking couple fought from time to time! She couldn't leave him — he'd have her hurting him. He'd have her tearing him to shreds if it meant she'd be his. She couldn't leave. She couldn't —
But he was hurting her. He looked at her and she saw the way her heart broke every time he walked into a room. She was crying. Because of him. He had caused this. It was all him.
"Granger… Hermione…" No answer came. Radio silence. "You — you don't have to go," he finally said. "I'll leave."
With that, he took his coat and walked out, slamming the door, but not before he heard the loud thud followed by broken, violent sobs echoing in their house. He closed the door one last time, then.
—
London, England
1st December 2006
"I've got everything, mate," Theo's voice echoed in his furniture-less room. He only nodded, not looking up from the ground.
"Burn them," Draco's cold voice ordered.
"Draco —"
"Fucking burn them."
—
New York, U.S.A.
16th September 2009
He went home — America was home. England was no longer where he felt safe. It was an exile. To be so close to the familiarity and yet never being able to hold the fleeting moment. So he caught the first place and he went home. To America. Leaving his Exile.
—
All this time
I never learned to read your mind
(You never learned to read my mind)
I couldn't turn things around
(You never turned things around)
'Cause you never gave a warning sign
(I gave so many signs…)
— Exile, Taylor Swift