Chapter 31

"I'm going to have to agree with Nott and Zabini on this one," Hermione said honestly, raising her brow at the blonde.

It was ten o'clock, and the two had spent the past hours eating and drinking and talking about everything that came to their minds. A part of it had been about magical theory, another part music, and they were now talking about London and all of its many possibilities. Especially now that Draco was embracing Muggle culture.

The Slytherin faked a gasp of offense, placing a hand to his chest while saying, "Et tu, Brute?"

Hermione laughed at this, for she should have figured he'd like both Shakespeare and Caesar, and took a sip of her scotch before saying, "What? I really don't think it suits you."

"It's a motorcycle, Hermione. It's not as if I'm running off to the Congo to live on a boat or something."

"Now that I can see."

"Lies."

She laughed at him and nodded. "Yes. I'm lying. But motorcycles in traffic are extremely dangerous, Draco… I guess you could make it fly."

"Cautioning me against danger? You?" She smirked at him over her glass, and he returned it. "A flying motorcycle you say? Not unlike that flying car the Weasleys had?" He asked, seeming very interested as he sat back into the couch and sipped his scotch. Hermione shrugged, not caring to comment and incriminate, even after all of these years. "A flying motorcycle is an idea I can stand behind."

"Sirius Black had one," she stated matter of factly.

"You don't say?" Draco piqued at this information.

"Yes. He gave it to Hagrid, who I assume still has it." She didn't want to dampen the mood by mentioning how and why Hagrid came to possess the motorcycle, so she took another sip of her drink instead.

Draco sat on this information for a while, then said, "Now I have to have one."

Hermione rolled her eyes and chuckled, then said, "Well don't expect me to ever get on that death trap."

"Why not? I know you don't ride brooms, but you ride dragons. Comparatively, a motorcycle isn't nearly as dangerous."

"You have a point," she agreed. "But I did that in an attempt to fight Voldemort. Not for fun."

He nodded, as if accepting her answer, then asked, "So you wouldn't go for just one ride with me?"

She laughed, and shook her head at his persistence. Then she asked, "Do you even know how to drive one?"

"No," he admitted. "But I'm a quick study, Granger, or have you forgotten."

"Oh. I have not forgotten, Malfoy." She really hadn't. He'd excelled at all of his studies, but she wasn't sure she was ready to ride on the back of his motorcycle anytime in the near future.

The future…

They were talking of a future where their relationship, whether as friends or more, or whatever they were, still existed. The idea made her giddy, and she took a deep breath in an attempt to calm the ever-quickening beating of her heart.

"So what about you?" He inquired. "Do you have any interesting plans post graduation? Other than your Charms mastery?"

Hermione sighed heavily, and she almost didn't say it. But she looked to his face, noted his genuine interest, and decided to go for it.

"I… I kind of have one. But you can't laugh at it."

"I would never," he said, and she smiled at the sincerity in his voice.

"However slightly, I did kind of mock your dream."

"Yes. And in apology, you will tell me yours."

"Oh, alright," she said. Taking one large drink from her glass, she began. "Well. After everything was said and done, the Ministry gave Harry, Ron and I rather large rewards for our "heroism"." She put this word in quotations, because Hermione had never considered what they'd done heroic. Well, Harry had been heroic, no doubt, and Ron had had his moments, but she didn't think of herself as such. She'd done what she'd needed to do. That was all.

"Oh, come off it," Draco interrupted at her air quotes. "Don't sell yourself short like that."

"Do you want to hear my plan or not?" She asked. He lifted his brow at her and gave her a small frown, as if to say "this conversation has been added to the back burner with the others", but was otherwise quiet.

She went on.

"The money I received was enough for me to help my parents get their lives back, to buy every record I've ever wanted, and put the rest in a Gringotts vault so that I can… so that I can buy a bit of land in the woods somewhere, build a cottage, and live there. Away from all of the hustle and bustle of London. To live a life where I'm not the war hero Hermione Granger. Where I can have a garden, and let my cat roam free, and… I can hide away from all of the shite that I no longer want to face."

Hermione hadn't wanted to go so far into her dream. She'd meant to stop at "cottage", but she'd kept going. She would never know if it was the whiskey, or how comfortable she'd become around the man who sat beside her, or if it was both, but she'd told him. She had finally told another human being that she wanted to hide.

She turned from him, back to the bottle on the table for another pour, because she didn't want to see his reaction, and she didn't want him to see the look on her face; the darkness that had begun to make a home in her eyes where one should simply see her soul.

"Hermione," he said softly, but she didn't turn to him. "Hey," he tried again, this time placing his hand on her shoulder. "I don't think that doing a little hiding out is that bad of an idea. I've been doing some of my own, and, to be honest, it's been some of the best days of my life." She turned back to him, and she relaxed at the caring expression on his face. "I've learned more about myself during these past few months while living in Muggle London than any other before them. I think you should do it. You should buy that land, and you should build that cottage, and you should spend the time you need to and find the peace you deserve."

A small smile crept across her face as she felt the tension in her shoulders ease, asking, "You think so?"

"Definitely. That sounds like one of the best ideas you've ever had, and I must point out that I've witnessed you have many."

With her smile still in place, and the self-loathing feelings disappearing quicker than a snitch in a thunderstorm, she said, "I expect you to ride your motorcycle over for a scotch, then, once the cottage is finished." She wiggled her glass to him.

"I will absolutely fly it over as soon as I receive the invitation," he said, grinning at her.

She sat back into the couch then, the two of them facing and smiling at each other. And, as times before, she couldn't tell you who leaned in first- not that she much cared- only knowing that their lips finally met in a kiss.

A/N: Aw, snap! You know what this means...