Chapter Three: Reminded
Now
The sun had just dropped beyond the borders of the buildings across the street when Hermione was finally closing up for the day. She took a deep breath of the mildly chilly air in and sighed, the crisp sting of the cold biting pleasantly as it moved in and out of her lungs, waking her up.
She hadn't gotten a good night of sleep in Godric knows how long, and she was always dragging by the time the end of her work day hit. Especially after a long, busy day like this one.
She stifled her yawn as she began making her way back down the cobblestone street towards the Leaky Cauldron, steadfastly ignoring the empty shop nearby that had caused her near full blown panic attack earlier. No, she didn't need another one.
Besides, it was still early. Plenty of opportunity to spiral into her anxiety before bed.
She smiled politely as she passed other shop owners closing up for the day, waving at the few she had come to know since opening Ataraxia, before slipping into the bustling Leaky Cauldron, its cloying, overwhelming scent filling her nostrils as she stepped inside the roaring sound that greeted anyone who opened its doors. No one tried to stop her here – it was why this brief moment at the end of her days had become one of her favorites.
As the golden girl of their little trio, she had become an infamous celebrity nearly overnight after the war. Everyone knew who she was, everyone stopped her and thanked her when they noticed her, everyone wanted to speak to the muggleborn best friend of Harry Potter who had fought so hard and given so much for them.
She didn't deserve it. She had spent a good portion of that year holed up in a manor in Wiltshire doing absolutely nothing useful except getting handsy with Draco Malfoy. And that was only useful to her.
The thanks and praise made her uncomfortable – she disliked nearly every aspect of it except for the part of it that allowed her to now do some good and make a difference. The only plus side to everyone knowing who she was, was that she was able to open doors that many couldn't get through.
But, she knew that the people didn't want to hear all of that, didn't want to know that she didn't feel worthy of their grace and affection. So she always nodded, smiled politely, and quietly shoved down the anxiety that clawed its way up and up until she was finally home and could fall apart in peace.
But here, at the end of the day in the Leaky Cauldron, with its dim lighting and raucous noise, nobody noticed her slinking through the crowd. No one stopped her or shook her hand.
For a moment, she wasn't Hermione Granger, Gryffindor Princess and champion of those without a voice.
She was simply Hermione, bookshop owner and average witch making her way home like everyone else.
She enjoyed the sounds of laughter and loud chatter that filled the small bar, remembering that every difficult moment she had been through over the past few years was worth it.
For this. For them.
For the ability to laugh and smile and drink with friends, without a care in the world.
It reminded her that there was joy and happiness, despite and because of the sacrifices so many had given.
She smiled at Tom the bartender as she slipped through the front door, and he returned it in kind, not drawing any attention to who she was, as he did every night.
She guessed it was just something inherent in who he was, that uncanny ability to understand exactly what people needed.
And she appreciated it immensely.
She took a step back out of the atmosphere of the Leaky Cauldron, thick with pipe smoke and the sweet scent of liquor, and into the busy street of London beyond.
Her apartment wasn't far, just a couple short blocks away, and she headed there quickly, ready to change into her leggings and oversized sweatshirt so she could sink into the comfort of her plush couch to begin the newest novel from a muggle author she enjoyed, who's newest book had made its way into the bag she currently had slung over her shoulder.
Another benefit of working at a bookstore, as much access to the newest novels as she could ever want.
No one had stopped her by the time she finally entered through the front door of her apartment building and began making her way up the three flights of stairs to her cozy apartment on the third floor. No one knew who she was in the muggle world. No one knew or cared about her part in what had been done, and given, and sacrificed to save them.
It was refreshing, and a large part of why she had chosen to live in a muggle apartment rather than find some wizarding village to settle in.
She finally reached her door, taking a moment to glance around covertly as she always did to ensure no muggle eyes were watching, before unlocking the many wards she had placed upon her apartment.
She of course had a basic lock as well, but that wouldn't stop anyone nefarious from the wizarding world should they come snooping around.
Not that there were many nefarious people who would these days, but she still felt immensely safer with the many protections she had in place, even if it was unnecessary.
She stepped over the threshold of her home, finally, and sighed happily as she took in the mahogany and bergamot scent that seemed to always fill her apartment from the many candles in that scent she lit nearly every day upon arriving home.
It was a routine that had become one of her favorites, and filled her with relaxing comfort at the end of each day.
It made her apartment feel like home.
Unfortunately, not even a minute after closing the door, there was a light tapping on the window above her kitchen sink. A quick glance towards it showed a snowy white owl patiently waiting to be let in. She hurried over, opening it swiftly so Harry's owl could swoop in and settle regally upon her kitchen counter.
"Oh, Helena, I'm so sorry. How long have you been waiting out there?"
The owl hooted softly at her, nipping gently at the hand that was running soft strokes down her feathers and Hermione smiled softly as she pulled out an owl treat from one of the kitchen drawers.
Helena had been a gift from Hermione and Ron after the war. Harry had been having a particularly rough week, and she and Ron had thought they might cheer him up by getting him a new owl. When they had seen Helena, so much like Hedwig they had both done a double-take, they knew she was the one.
Harry had named her after the Ravenclaw ghost, wanting to give some sort of recognition to the soul that had helped him in a time of need.
Hermione pulled the letter attached to its leg from the leather strap tied gently to the scaly skin, and quickly scanned its contents, groaning softly as she realized her plans of comfort and trashy romance novels would need to wait.
Hermione,
I know that you'll probably forget, so I'm reminding you that we have dinner plans for seven.
I hope you read this before you've put on your sweats.
If you don't, it's not my fault you always forget our plans.
Love you.
G
Hermione set down the note, rolling her eyes as she turned to her bedroom to change into something far less comfortable than the pajamas she had been so looking forward to.
She hated that Ginny was right.
She had an incredibly detailed planner, but even then she had a tendency to overbook herself, particularly with her friends, and more often than not forgot about casual plans they made. Ginny had begun owling her every time they had plans, just in case Hermione didn't remember.
And she usually didn't.
It was one of many things that had changed after the war. Prior, she had always been the dependable one. The friend who planned impeccably and never forgot a thing. Ginny said it was a trauma response.
Hermione knew she was probably right. She didn't care. She hated it. It was just another item added to the long list that made her feel like she was no longer herself.
Five minutes later, Hermione was wearing a flowing, maroon maxi dress. It was patterned with small flowers here and there, and was nice enough for the restaurant they were going to while also being comfortable enough that she wouldn't be miserable the entire time she was wearing it.
Her hair was nearly unmanageable as always, and she slicked it up into a twisted bun to keep it out of her face, while looking semi-decent still.
She had barely opened the door to her building, heading back out into the street beyond when she caught sight of Ginny and Harry. Harry was rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, while Ginny beamed unapologetically at her.
"We just wanted to make sure you got our letter."
Harry coughed subtly and Ginny rolled her eyes. "Fine, my letter."
Hermione shook her head at her friend, though she couldn't stop the smile that spread across her face at the sight of her.
Ginny's shining red hair was pulled up into a sleek ponytail, accentuating the sharp lines of her freckled face. She wore a tight-fitting black dress that seemed to hug every curve, and walked with a confidence that Hermione had never really felt.
Ginny was always so unabashedly herself. She never made herself smaller for anyone else's sake, never shied away from the attention and adoration she received. She never let it change her either. She was as fierce and kind as she had been at Hogwarts, despite the war and what it had done to her friends and family.
Ginny reached Hermione, pulling her into a bone-crushing hug as though they hadn't seen each other for ages, despite just seeing each other mere days ago. Harry simply grinned and nodded, saying softly, "Alright, Hermione?"
Hermione gave her best friend a soft smile. Harry, like her, had been much more reserved since the war. They faked smiles and pretended everything was fine, but she remembered those initial few months afterward as well as he. She remembered the nights he'd wake screaming, drenched in sweat, terrified that Voldemort was back to harm those he loved. She knew he was struggling as much as she was, if not more.
Maybe things would have been different if they had decided to re-do their final year at Hogwarts. Maybe they would have been as well-adjusted as Ginny, who had heavily utilized the therapist brought on staff at Hogwarts in the year following the war, had they had access like her.
But neither of them had been able to stomach the thought of returning to school when there was so much left to be done in picking up the shattered pieces of the wizarding world.
So they had pushed through, both of them focusing on any and everyone other than themselves.
It hadn't been smart, she'd thought on more than one occasion, to refuse to manage their own struggles. But she never found the time for herself to make her way to any sort of therapist in the wizarding world, despite so many doors being open to her, despite the access.
A small part of her was worried about how the therapist would see her. Was it someone who idolized her? Put her up on a pedestal? Was it someone who's image of her would crumble into a million unflattering pieces as soon as she opened up?
A larger part of her was simply unable to do anything positive for herself in the years following the war, unable to prioritize herself when so many were suffering worse.
She pushed the familiar thoughts aside and looped her arm through Ginny's as they began the walk towards the popular wizarding restaurant in London.
"Have you read the newest column in Wizarding Daily?"
Hermione scoffed, shaking her head. "No, there's never anything good in there."
Ginny grinned, unconvinced and nonplussed despite Hermione's dismissal of the wizarding gossip tabloid Ginny loved so much.
"Sure. Otherwise known as, you've seen Draco Malfoy with too many women to count and hate it."
Hermione glared at her friend, who's dazzling smile didn't falter even the slightest. "No. I don't care what he does. We're friends. I'm just happy he's happy."
Ginny nodded, the sly look on her face telling Hermione she didn't believe a word out of her lying, rotten mouth.
"Right. So then you won't care if I tell you that the Witch of Whispers was given information that a certain rich, blonde, brooding wizard was spotted with Astoria Greengrass at Amortentia last night."
Hermione was proud that she stiffened only slightly at the mention of Draco with the Slytherin witch. She shrugged. "Nope. Good for him."
"Uh-huh. Well I'm glad you don't care. I do. I'm still dying to know who this Witch of Whispers even is."
Ginny's face screwed up into a pout that forced a snort from Hermione loud enough to turn the heads of a couple of wizarding elite as they moved through the front doors of the restaurant where they were sitting down for dinner.
"I don't know why you care so much, Gin." Harry smiled as he said it, amused as always at Ginny's fascination with the wizarding world gossip spread by the tabloid. After the war, a new column had started up in Wizarding Daily, a tabloid that had previously only experienced below average sales within their community. The column had originally been simply updates on the war heroes, and celebrities well-known within the wizarding world, but had quickly emerged as one of the best sources for information on anyone who was anyone within their community.
While the magazine was based out of London, the timing of the column and the focus on those involved in the war led many to believe it was someone who had recently left Hogwarts or had been involved in the war itself. That, combined with its intimate knowledge and scarily accurate information made many wonder if it was someone who had ties to those involved in the battle of Hogwarts.
Hermione had been mentioned in it countless times. Who she was seeing, where she was going, what she was doing. Hermione secretly followed it religiously, annoyed at the detailed descriptions of her comings and goings, though she reasoned that she was well-known enough at this point that anyone could be sending the information to the gossip rag.
"I still think it's Parvati." Ginny had shot a glare at Harry before continuing on with the discussion as though he hadn't interrupted.
Hermione shrugged, not wholly convinced it was their former classmate and not really interested in continuing the conversation so she could unwittingly hear more about Draco's love life.
She was happy for him. That was all that mattered.
It was her fault for thinking he'd reach back out to her when he was ready to date again.
You haven't brought it up to him either, a voice in the back of her head shot at her snarkily. She didn't care that it was right.
"She was always gossiping with Lavender at school. They knew everything about everyone. It would make sense." Ginny kept going, unbothered by the fact that neither Harry nor Hermione were really engaging in the conversation.
Hermione's eyes caught on a familiar face and she felt a relieved smile cross her own as Blaise approached their little trio, interrupting whatever Ginny was about to say next.
"Ginny, Harry." Blaise greeted Hermione's companions. "I was just heading out, they won't have any available tables for at least an hour. Care to join me?"
Hermione looked from Ginny to Harry, who were taking in the teeming restaurant as though they hadn't thought about how packed it would be on a Friday night.
"Sure, let's go." Hermione answered for the three of them, using the arm she still had looped around Ginny's to steer them back towards the door and out of the busy restaurant.
Blaise grinned, leading them onto the sidewalk and down the main street towards another establishment that was typically a little less busy than the one they had just left.
They engaged in polite conversation, mostly centering around quidditch and Ginny's position on the Holyhead Harpies as they walked. Ginny had been named captain in her final year at Hogwarts and had done such a wonderful job as captain and chaser that teams had been scrambling to sign her after she left school. She had settled on the all-female quidditch team after a long couple months of debating, and had contributed to their phenomenal success over the past year.
Hermione didn't care for quidditch as much as the other three, but was so grateful the conversation had turned away from the Witch of Whispers that she feigned interest, nodding at the appropriate parts and letting out gasps with the others if exciting information was shared.
They finally reached Phoenix, the restaurant Blaise had led them towards, and one brief glance told Hermione that while it was definitely less busy than the place they had just left, it was still overflowing with patrons.
She sighed, resigning herself to a night of interacting with strangers as they approached the staff member near the front of the establishment.
Blaise gave the witch a winning smile as he held up four fingers, and she blushed before grabbing a few menus and leading them to a nice table near the back of the restaurant.
They made it only a few steps before Hermione froze.
"Malfoy!"
Hermione's heart stopped completely. He was as beautiful as the last time she had seen him, just as breathtaking as always. He wore a tailored, black suit, fitted to every delicious line of his body. His emerald green shirt had the top two buttons undone beneath his jacket, and the color made his silver eyes shine. His lips were as sensual as always, parted only slightly in surprise, and Hermione fought to hide the blush that threatened to fill her cheeks as she tried not to remember how those lips felt against her skin.
His eyes caught hers and she forced herself to look away quickly, knowing that she was losing the battle against her own body horribly as her cheeks heated. Ginny sent a small smirk her way before looking back towards the wizard who was now making his way towards them.
"Weasley, Potter, Zabini." He greeted the three of them, turning last to Hermione who struggled to maintain an air of calm as she again met his eyes. "Granger."
Hermione couldn't help the small flinch as he used her surname. It was only Hermione in private these days. Only when they were exchanging letters or notes, or tangled up together in a dark room during nights when they couldn't stand to be alone.
Which was rare these days.
They greeted him, all three of them pretending as though they didn't notice the tension that had pulled taught between Hermione and Draco.
Or maybe they truly didn't notice, and Hermione was the only one who was hyper-aware of that connection.
"Where's Astoria?" Ginny asked sweetly, glancing behind him as though the brunette witch might appear any second. Malfoy smiled right back at Ginny, though Hermione noticed it held none of the cruelty it might have just a few years previously.
"She's waiting for me outside. I was just taking care of the bill."
Hermione's heart fell, and she hadn't even realized until that moment that she had been hoping Draco wasn't here on a date.
But of course he was.
Happy for him, that voice seemed to sing in her head.
"How are you?" Draco finally turned his full attention to Hermione and she shrugged, smiling unconvincingly.
"I'm doing well. Busy, as always, you know."
Ginny snorted. "Hermione would live, breathe, and bathe in work and books if we didn't drag her out every now and then."
Hermione shot Ginny a look begging her to shut up, and only then noticed the dirty looks the patrons in the restaurant were shooting towards them.
No, not them. Draco.
Draco's family had fallen heavily in reputation after the war. Even after being found innocent, even after paying every bit of restitution they owed, no one had forgotten the standing his family had held in the eyes of Voldemort and his followers.
The survivors and living family members couldn't forget. Not that easily.
He and his mother never let anyone see how badly it got to them, but the flicker of shame in his otherwise cool features told her that he had noticed too. And was doing his best to ignore it.
Draco cleared his throat, dragging her attention back to the conversation, and continued. "That sounds about right. You look as though you just came from the shop."
"Excuse me, I put on a dress for this." Hermione snapped while Ginny laughed uproariously.
"You missed a bit of hair, just there." Draco smirked, pointing to a lock of unruly hair that had escaped her bun. Before Hermione could push it up and out of the way he had reached forward to tuck it behind her ear.
It was just a moment, just a brief second of contact, but it had her heart beating as though he had thrown her across a table in front of the entire dining area.
And then it was over, as quickly as it had begun. He was saying goodbye, and walking away, back out the front door they had just arrived through and out of her life until Merlin knew when, not sparing even a moment for the many glares being sent his way throughout the dining area.
She forced herself not to stare after him, struggling to bring her attention back to her friends as they sat and began a pleasant night of drinks and conversation.
Of course, it wasn't that easy, and she found her mind wandering towards him throughout the remainder of the night, following her like a ghost as she made her way home, and settling in beside her on her couch like an unwanted guest when she finally called it a night.