Can it be that it was all so simple then?
Or has time re-written every line?
If we had the chance to do it all again
Tell me, would we?
-Barbra Streisand, The Way We Were
If you try to fix your hair again, you'll be late, Hermione. You look like what you look like - accept it.
Hermione Granger shrugged as she looked in the mirror in her bedroom, resenting the way she looked. She could do worse for a middle-aged mum, it was true. She had never been what anyone would call gorgeous, but the lines on her face and her body's plumpness had pulled her further from what many would even consider "conventionally attractive." And her hair. She could kick her younger self for ever complaining about it. What she wouldn't do to have the giant bushy mane of her youth, instead of the greying, thinning spectacle she had spent an hour just trying to improve.
And why did she care about any of this in the first place? It's just hot chocolate with an old…friend, Hermione insisted (lied) to herself. It shouldn't matter at all what Draco Malfoy thought of how she looked. They were married to other people, hadn't seen each other in years, and there was nothing between them. Anymore.
But just in case he was thinking about how she looked…well, she had still tried in other ways. As soon as he had responded to the owl she had sent several months ago asking him to meet, saying he'd be free on Christmas Eve, she had ordered the floor-length silver gown and new dark crimson robes, all made with enchanted thread that sparkled like gifts in the right lighting. She also had drop earrings with stars at the bottom that matched her gown perfectly, and she'd even completed the look with tall, green heels. Her makeup she had done carefully - she was quite out of practice, and even with magic, it would have been easy to make herself look like a clown. But her understated look, with a touch of pink lipstick, was quite decent in her opinion, even for a woman "past her prime."
Deciding there was nothing else to be done, and afraid she'd run late fretting, she grabbed her red clutch purse (can't forget that! ) and made her way downstairs to where the children were anxiously preparing to head to Harry and Ginny's for their annual Christmas eve party. When she made it to the ground floor, she could hear Rose, Hugo and Serena in the kitchen preparing gifts and chatting about how excited they were, while Ron Weasley was standing near the bottom of the stars giving her a cross look. It didn't surprise her that Ron wouldn't be happy about this. Unlike most of the Wizarding world, Ron had not forgiven Draco for the sins of his youth, and while Hermione wasn't sure he knew about her and Draco's past, he likely suspected something.
"Well, aren't you dressed up," Ron snorted.
Hermione knew Ron would be upset over the way she looked. Somewhere long ago in the 15 years they had been married, she'd stop caring about her appearance (he'd registered his displeasure about it, to which she'd retort that she was too busy raising his children to care about her looks). It was probably the best she'd looked in years, and while it was Christmas Eve and they were planning to go to a party, they both also knew why she'd tried.
Initially, Ron, though he had been unhappy to hear it, hadn't been as upset as Hermione thought he would be when she told him she was going to see Draco, which had been both a relief and weirdly disappointing. But now his jealousy was on full display, and Hermione felt a sense of smugness that Ron might for the first time in over a decade be remembering that his wife had been a prize that shouldn't have been taken for granted.
"You could have at least tried to look like you weren't out to impress him. And really, you should be embarrassed leaving your children behind on a holiday to go see him, " growled Ron.
"After all the nights you've spent out of the house with Lavender over the past two years?" Hermione spat back. Ron froze in terror, completely - and uncharacteristically - speechless. His face slowly turned crimson with embarrassment upon realizing that Hermione knew of his affair. She hadn't never said anything, mostly because she hadn't cared, but the hypocrisy - unwarranted, as she and Draco hadn't even spoken in years - would not stand tonight.
"Don't bring that up in front of the children!" he finally hissed.
"Then leave me alone about what I'm doing. I'll meet you all at Harry and Ginny's later."
"Fine. Don't be late. Harry and Ginny will wonder what's going on."
Hermione rolled her eyes, marveling at how dense Ron could still be over the years. Unlike Ron, Ginny already knew everything that had happened between her and Draco, and in fact, when Hermione had first suggested sending the owl to him, Ginny had actually encouraged her. ("I love my brother, but it's time you thought of yourself, Hermione," she had said).
Both of them were staring at each other, each one likely wondering if it would be worth landing any more blows. But there was nothing left to say after all these years. The horrible fights had been had, the things that couldn't be taken back had been said, and now they were left with something worse: the indifference that set in once the love was completely gone and no one truly cared anymore.
"I'll see you later," Hermione finally said, before hurrying out the door into the cold, black winter, with only the promise of a Christmas miracle lighting the path before her.
She could have gotten there faster by magic, but Hermione decided to take public transportation to the bookshop in the heart of Muggle London where she had asked Draco to meet her. She told herself it was because she didn't want to be spotted by anyone they knew, but truthfully, she was so nervous she hadn't wanted to arrive there too soon, and the journey to the city would delay it. Though now she somewhat regretted it, as bloody cold as it was, and with the chance of snow impending. A few onlookers had noticed her in her golden gown and glistening maroon robes, including a few men whose eyes had lingered too long. But she had given them aggressive stares back, as if to challenge to a fight, and everyone had kept away. The advantages of being an older woman, she supposed.
Fifteen years. She had been 24-years-old the last time she had seen him - besides the stolen glances while dropping the children off at the train station for Hogwarts. She had always caught him, ageless, next to Astoria sending Scorpius along, and she had always stayed out of sight, hoping he wouldn't notice her. She hadn't wanted to risk bringing back old feelings by saying hello.
They had started working together right after the Battle of Hogwarts. Kingsley Shacklebolt, the new Minister of Magic, had thought it wise to have two people be the face of the new tolerant Wizarding world of England, both to serve as mascots to the people within the country facing reconciliation, and to reassure Wizarding societies outside of England who had been nervous about another war. We need to convince everyone we really get along, and who better than the two of you, had been Kingsley's plea to Hermione to join. The Muggle-born witch who had fought alongside Harry Potter, and the son of a former Death Eater, working side-by-side, acting as would-be ambassadors. It had seemed perfect to everyone, except Draco, of course, and Hermione, who had only reluctantly decided to do it out of duty... and because she was excited at the thought of traveling to other countries and taking some time between school and settling down with Ron, who had eagerly proposed after the war.
She and Draco had expectedly hated being around each other at first. He had been grappling with his own family being torn apart and the shame of being associated with Voldemort's side; she had felt sick just looking at him, a reminder of the pain she had endured over the years, including the torture at Malfoy Manor. For the first six months, they barely even spoke to each other.
And then at some point, everything shifted. Originally, they had been visiting towns across England, like being on a weird speaking tour. But gradually they started taking extended trips to other countries across Europe, and perhaps the closeness of it had finally forced them to get along. If Hermione could pinpoint any moment when their dynamic had absolutely changed, it had probably been during a particular stressful work trip to Paris when they were 21. One afternoon, they had been in mandatory dueling practicing sessions with their trip escort - Kingsley had insisted they be trained like aurors to protect themselves as a necessary precaution - and had inevitably began fighting about something. But then someone had made a joke - what about, she couldn't recall - and whatever it had been was enough to lighten the mood.
They had decided to walk around the city that night to let off some steam and try to reach a truce, and had ended up really talking about how they felt about what happened after the war, how hard rebuilding their lives had been. At some point while walking through the Jardin du Palais Royal, he had reached for her hand for the first time, and she recalled holding on to it for the rest of the night.
She had talked honestly about how afraid she had still been of people who hated Muggles and how she constantly feared for her life. He had told her about how difficult it had been to try to move on from the people he had come from, how much he wanted to know about himself and how excited he was to be free to choose his own path in life. He even told her how Voldemort had tortured him mercilessly for not killing Dumbledore, which he had never disclosed to anyone.
It was the night they had truly seen each other for the first time.
More time would pass before they'd share their first kiss, before they'd become intimate. But that night had changed everything, even making a small part of her question her engagement to Ron for the first time.
Such were the memories floating around Hermione's mind as she finally approached her destination.
Meanwhile, Draco was similarly nervous waiting for Hermione at the bookshop, looking through the window and jumping at the sight of any woman who looked even remotely like her. The expensive Muggle suit he had ordered to blend in - by some Muggle brand, something Versace - felt uncomfortable and he longed for his robes, but he was too excited to be annoyed. For years he'd hoped to talk to Hermione again, and had hoped when their children had started Hogwarts he could stage an "accidental" bumping into. But he'd seen her run away from him at the platform, and had taken that as a sign to stay away.
He thought he had been dreaming when he received her message by owl to meet up, and wished he could have done it sooner than Christmas Eve. He had wanted to run to her immediately, but he quite literally couldn't. Unexpectedly, he was still working as an ambassador for the ministry, going on global missions to build relationships with other Wizarding groups around the world. When her owl arrived, he had been in Tokyo, and wasn't scheduled to be back until the week of Christmas. He knew Astoria would require him to make the rounds to the parties in their social circles for most of the week, but she had been oddly content when he said he had other plans for Christmas Eve. He suspected she had other plans anyways, and would drop Scorpius off with his mother before seeking company elsewhere.
Draco felt nothing about it. Hermione had stayed on his mind long after their time together had ended, all of the nights they'd shared playing on repeat in his mind. Then her abrupt departure from his life, and him wondering if she'd ever speak to him again. The memories were ecstasy and agony on an endless loop, and he was surprised he hadn't lost his sanity.
He quickly stood up at the sight of her when she finally arrived, his ability to breathe momentarily failing.
"Hermione, it's so nice to see you," he said as he embraced her longer than he should
Have. She looks more stunning than I remembered, he thought to himself.
"And you. Thank you for responding to my owl to meet up for Christmas Eve, and for being willing to meet me here," she responded, gently pulling back from him since he wouldn't, afraid as he was of losing her again. "I'm sure you must be so busy, I thought you might say no."
"And miss out on the chance to see you for the first time in 15 years? Not a chance. Can I get you a drink?"
"Oh, yes, thank you. I'll find a table." Despite her curiosity, Hermione resisted the opportunity to walk around and browse and instead found a table in a corner where they'd have some privacy, listening to the Christmas music blaring from the speakers. She was trying -and failing - to not to stare at him as he waited in line. She couldn't help but notice his stylish Black suit that was tailored perfectly to his tall, lean figure, and was envious of how the years had been so much kinder to him.
He finally joined her at the table with drinks in hand, and she caught a whiff of his cologne, a cedarwood. Mixed with the smell of warm cocoa, it melted her inside.
"Thank you so much for this. How has…everything been?" Hermione asked.
"I'm alright. Even after all these years, I've been trying to still sort through a lot of my father's old affairs," Draco replied, his voice trailing off, and suddenly he felt like kicking himself for letting his dead father be the first thing he brought up. Why the fuck did I go there, he wondered. "Thank you again for sending the flowers after he died."
"Of course. I know you two didn't have the easiest relationship at times, but I know that must have been hard on you."
"It really was, but we were in the best place we could have been at the end, so I've made peace with it."
They continued like this for some time, catching up over the details of their lives, their children's adventures at Hogwarts (weren't the two of them just in school?), the memories over the last 15 year that had gone by faster than two young people would have ever suspected. Since Draco had stayed in ambassador work, he had many exciting stories to share, and Hermione found herself feeling jealous and insecure listening to him talk of his adventures, while all she had done was keep house.
Meanwhile, Draco sensed Hermione was uneasy about something. She seemed somewhat uncomfortable, and there was something in her eyes, and her voice, that felt like sadness. Maybe it was the holidays. People were often sad around this time of year for all kinds of reasons. He needed to try to cheer her up.
"Again, I'm so glad I heard from you, and I'm sorry I couldn't meet sooner. I've been really looking forward to seeing you."
"I'm glad to hear it. I wasn't sure you'd want to see me. I was almost late, you know. Busy worrying about the grey in my hair," Hermione laughed nervously.
"You look the same as I remember," Draco responded with sincerity in his voice.
"You're too kind, Draco. I know I'm an older woman now."
"Aren't I the same age?"
"You are, and yet, you really do look like you haven't aged a day."
"Probably because I worry a lot less than you," Draco laughed, and Hermione couldn't help but laugh as well.
"And how's Ron?" Draco finally asked. She'd hoped he wouldn't, but of course she wouldn't get off so easily.
"Things are…fine," she responded, regretting her hesitation, which she was sure Draco had sensed. "And you, how has Astoria been?" Not that Hermione really wished to know.
"We've been fine. Content enough. You know of course how these pureblo- old wizarding family marriages are." Draco had tried for years not to use any of the old terms around blood purity, especially around Hermione, and had resented how difficult it had been.
Hermione was in her head suddenly, worried that arranging this had been a mistake, until one of her favorite Christmas songs started playing, and she couldn't help but smile.
"Oh, this is that one Muggle Christmas song you told me about all those years ago!" Draco exclaimed excitedly.
"I think you mean the greatest Muggle Christmas Christmas song of all time," Hermione laughed. "I'm surprised you remembered."
"Well, it's a catchy song, and I've listened to it sometimes, I'll admit. She's a pretty good singer for a Muggle."
"Pretty Good?! Mariah Carey?! Really Draco, I should leave right now for being offended."
"Well why not treat me with a dance instead?"
"In a bookshop? We'll get attention!"
"It's Christmas, 'tis the season for doing silly things for attention. Come on then!" Draco stood and reached for her hand, but she hesitated. "I don't know-"
"Well, then I have no choice but to sing very loudly until you change your mind!
"Draco, you can't be seri-"
"OH, I WON'T ASK FOR MUCH THIS CHRISTMAS"
"Draco!" Hermione whined in a hushed tone while onlookers smiled.
"I WON'T EVEN WISH FOR SNOW!"
"Alright, alright!" She finally took his hand, and he pulled her close, closer than he should have as they started to dance in that small corner of the shop, him twirling around while even more people stopped to look.
"Thank goodness you agreed to it, I think I would have sounded very bad trying to hit those high notes," Draco said with utmost seriousness, and at that point Hermione fully burst into laughter.
Hermione suddenly remembered once when they were on assignment in New York (near the end of her tenure, and one of the last great happy memories they shared). They had gone to a jazz club and Draco had surprised her with some swing dance moves, ("Don't look so surprised, I'm a sophisticated bloke"), and this had taken her right back to that. He had finally healed from much of his past, and Hermione had begun discovering a happier, even sillier version of him, and it had been wonderful.
When the dancing finally stopped, they were greeted with enthusiastic applause.
"You've still got it," Hermione whispered in his ear before pulling away to sit back down.
"Of course I do, though I'm a little more careful these days. Can't jump too much or my back will pay me back in kind," Draco grunted while sitting back in his chair somewhat stiffly.
"Well, it seems you are an old man after all," Hermione laughed.
"We both are. I can't believe how long it's been since we worked together. This has made me remember back in 2002, that was the Christmas I think when you made me listen to that Muggle Christmas playlist. This is the only song I remember, this and the one by that other singer, something Houston. They're the only good Muggle singers."
'SOMETHING HOUSTON?!" Hermione huffed while playfully hitting Draco in the arm.
"Now there's that temper I always loved," Draco laughed.
"Did you really? I remember you hating it when we were at Hogwarts, especially when I punched you."
"Well, I grew to love it then, punches at all," Draco said while smiling, leaning in closer to her, staring intensely at her in a way she couldn't quite describe but made her uncomfortable.
Neither of them spoke for a few moments, until Hermione decided to break the awkward silence.
"I have a gift for you." She reached into her clutch, which had an extension charm, and pulled from it a dark, palm-sized black box wrapped with a silver ribbon. Draco's face lit up at the sight of it.
"You can open it now, if you want," Hermione said in a shy tone, trying not to put pressure on him but hoping he would. To her satisfaction, he lunged for the box and carefully but quickly unwrapped it.
"Merlin, this watch!" Draco exclaimed as he looked inside the box. "Is this the one that belonged to Salazar Slytherin's descendants?"
"It is," Hermione replied smugly, pleased with her own effort. "I had a hard time tracking it down since Borgin and Burkes closed. The dark magic enchantments were removed a long time ago, as I'm sure you'd suspect, but it's still a lovely watch."
"More than a watch. A priceless keepsake, truly. Thank you, Hermione." He slipped the watch on immediately, beaming with pride. "I have a present for you also." He reached under his chair and handed her a crimson-wrapped rectangle that was clearly a book. Immediately she thought of how Ron had not once given her a book for any holiday, instead only jewelry and other things that had made him feel proud that they weren't poor, but hadn't really meant anything to her.
"Oh my god," Hermioned said as she unwrapped it. "Draco, this potions book, Brews from the Bayou, how on earth did you get it?! I read in the Hogwarts histories on other wizarding societies that this book has been out of print for nearly 70 years and is almost impossible to find!"
"It was a gift to me, actually. I was doing some diplomatic work in the United States and spent about a year in Louisiana, most of that time in New Orleans, working with one of the oldest wizarding societies in the United States. I actually felt bad being there without you because I knew how much you had wanted to visit. It turns out they had intentionally kept some of their books out of print during the 20th century because they hadn't wanted them to be used by Dark wizards like Voldemort. I had asked for a copy of this text, and originally they said no, likely skeptical of my heritage, and understandably so, even though I said I intended it for you. But when I was preparing to depart, they surprised me with a copy."
It was all too much. Hermione promptly burst into tears, knowing she was likely causing a scene but unable to control herself.
"I - have I done something wrong?" Draco finally stammered when Hermione had stopped crying.
"No, no, this is perfect. Just wonderful, Draco, I can't wait to read it. Thank you," Hermione managed to respond through sniffles. "I think this is just making me emotional because…well you're right, I would have loved to have been there with you. I miss the work we were doing. I'm sure you know this, but I stopped working after I had the children, and I've never really gone back. Originally when Ron and I had discussed me being home, that made sense. Raising three children is so much. I was so alone during those first ten years, though. And then I meant to go back to work when they started Hogwarts, but I felt really out of place, so I didn't. And now I just…I'm thinking about all the things I've missed, and that I might have wanted to do. Continued being an ambassador, or even a professor at Hogwarts. It's just, I'm overwhelmed right now thinking about it, and so sorry to be making a scene."
"No, I'm sorry - sorry that git of a husband actually encouraged potentially the smartest living witch in England to play housekeeper so he could feel good about himself." Draco hadn't meant to attack Ron - it was in poor taste, and unhelpful, because he knew despite everything that Hermione really loved him, if nothing else because of their shared history. But he hadn't been able to stop himself. "Not to disparage women who take care of the home, of course. My mum was a housewife, and so is Astoria. But you wanted more for yourself, Hermione, and you should have had it. If I were your husband I would never have stopped you."
Both of them went silent again.
"Maybe, I should go…" Hermione began, her eyes beginning to well up again. This may have been a mistake. She had been wrong to think this reunion wouldn't bring up strong emotions, and they were headed towards dangerous territory.
"Wait, don't leave yet. I have another gift for you."
Draco escorted Hermione towards the bathroom in the back of the shop, and for a brief moment Hermione wondered in horror if Draco's "surprise" would be him attempting a quick snog in the bathroom. But then she noticed a small, clearly enchanted black umbrella leaning towards the door.
"Is that…a portkey?!"
"It is."
"To where?"
"You'll see." He held out his hand. The warmth of his hand as she embraced it once again that night stirred up something in her chest, an old and familiar feeling she didn't have time to think about as they were suddenly flying through space, compressed into nothing.
When everything stopped spinning, at first she couldn't sense where she was, because it was so dark. But her other senses were detecting extremely familiar territory. It was so quiet, no light, no people, just an owl hooting in the distance…
"This is the Appenine forest! Draco, I haven't been here since…" She stopped.
"Since we were last here. I know. Or at least, I suspected. I haven't been back since either, but I've never forgotten about it. Lumos!"
The light from Draco's wand revealed a winter wonderland of giant trees covered in snow, trees that sprawled seemingly endlessly. The Appenine, in the Central Italian Peninsula, was breathtaking, like a landscape portrait come to life, and like many isolated evergreen forests, had a strong feeling of romantic enchantment. The last time Hermione and Draco had been in the Appenine forest had been on Hermione's 22nd birthday, months after they had begun having an affair. They had been in Rome on an assignment for three months conducting reconciliation training, and he had surprised her by taking her to the forest for the weekend. He had even set up a small makeshift cabin in one patch near a patch of evergreens, and had set up wards and protective enchantments around a mile perimeter so they wouldn't be disturbed. It had been one of those unusually perfect early fall weekends when it was no longer hot and many of the trees had turned into a symphony of warm colors. During the (few) times during the weekend when they hadn't been in each other's arms, they had trekked through the forest, playing in leaf piles like children near the trees that actually shed, making tea and birdwatching.
Hermione looked more clearly around, and realized they were right back where their cabin had been last time.
"Oh, Draco. This is the same place." She started walking towards a particular tree, with faint carvings she recognized. "That same tree where we…"
"When I realized what I felt for you was serious," he said, walking so close behind her she could feel the fog of his breath on her neck. "Where I told you I loved you, Hermione."
She turned around to face him, and mistakenly, looked right into those steel grey eyes. Don't do it, Hermione. But Draco was too close to her at this point. She could smell that distinct cedarwood and citrus smell, and it was bringing back all the feelings from before…
When his lips met hers, she finally gave up the pretense of pretending that she didn't want what was happening. She wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled him close, and he moaned deeply, approving of her boldness. He also responded in-kind by grabbing her waist and pulling her closer to him as he walked her back to the tree and pressed her against it, lifting her slightly so he could better reach her. He began showering her with aggressive kisses down her neck and to her collarbone as he pushed her robe back, and she began to shiver, both from his touch and the cold. Sensing her discomfort, Draco cast a warming spell around them. She wondered if his casting was off - instead of a pleasant campfire warmth, it felt like they were in a sauna, but maybe that was just her, overheated from his touch.
Draco kept moving his lips down her collarbone, while also pulling the neckline of her dress down and reaching inside of her bra to expose one of her breasts. She let out a deep, loud, animalistic moan as soon as his tongue reached her nipple, and she momentarily felt embarrassed before remembering that no one was (hopefully) around for miles.
"Draco," Hermione whined, disoriented, losing herself and vaguely aware he might rip her very expensive dress that she needed intact for the party. The party. Shit. Ron.
"Stop thinking about him," Draco said suddenly.
"How did you - are you using Legilimens?"
"Hermione, I've known you for almost 30 years. I know when your mind is spinning. Stop thinking."
"Draco, I - oh, fuck, Draco…" His hand had made its way under her dress and to her knickers, and began caressing that spot, taking her to a place where she could no longer think. His fingers slowly moved in a circle at first, and then faster, the ecstasy taking over her body and making her shake uncontrollably. He was still holding her waist with his other arm, and had resumed kissing her neck. Her moans had escalated, her fingers were digging into his back, and she was so close to release she wanted to scream.
But he stopped before she got there.
"No, no, I need, I need…why did you stop?" she fretted.
Draco was staring into her eyes, his pupils wide, his expression hungry. He suddenly pulled out his wand and silently cast a spell about 10 feet away from them that manifested a person-sized cushion laying on top of the snow.
"I need all of you, Hermione." Oh god, he wants to go all the way. And you do too - admit it. Before she could consider objecting, he had picked her up and placed her on the cushion, then quickly pulled her dress above her waist, removed her knickers and placed himself between her legs, laying his body on top of hers. She could feel his hardness, how much he wanted her, and she wanted him too, so, so much. She had wanted it all this time and couldn't believe she had lied to herself about it.
But she didn't want it like this.
"Draco, wait."
"What's wrong?"
"This, all of this. Draco, I just…I can't do this to Ron, I'm sorry."
Draco had expected some hesitation from Hermione, but being this close to having her once more, only for her to bring up Ron, and reject him again, had ignited a level of anger towards her he hadn't even realized was possible. He quickly jumped to his feet and started pacing in circles, shaking his head to himself, while Hermione sat up and began putting her knickers back on. He finally walked back over to where she sat, towering over her while she stared up at him, clearly distressed.
"Why did you even reach out to me if you didn't want me?!" Draco yelled, his face red with anger. He then immediately realized how he must have sounded. "It's not that I'm angry with you for not wanting sex. I'm being completely honest when I say I truly wasn't trying to make that happen. I just got excited," he explained, momentarily managing a slightly calmer voice before he heard himself escalating again. "But I thought - when I heard from you, I just assumed…Hermione, you have to know I still love you. I specifically told you when you asked to be just friends that I could never, never do that. I meant it!"
"I'm sorry, Draco," she repeated softly.
"You didn't even want to be with him! You wanted to be with me!" He didn't want to be this angry, especially since she was upset, but he was too full of rage to stop, unable to control the resentment, the hurt he felt from being rejected, that had been festering for so long.
"I asked you to marry me, Hermione! I would have given you everything. Everything. But you left me behind!"
"I didn't leave you behind, you know that!" Hermione shouted as she stood up. "I chose my child, Draco. When I found out I was pregnant with Rose, I decided it was more important to give her a stable home with Ron instead of taking a chance on something that may not have worked." Hearing herself say it out loud, Hermione realized this reasoning sounded far less convincing now than it had as a young pregnant woman. But she knew that was only because she had the benefit of hindsight, and she had never regretted putting her children first. "I had to forget you, Draco.
"You didn't even love him like that anymore though." Draco was no longer yelling, but instead sounded like he was fighting tears.
"I know. But Ron and I had been close for nearly 15 years. I knew, or at least I thought I knew, what I was getting into. But you and I were having an affair. We didn't have a relationship."
"We could have tried, Hermione. We had known each other for years at that point. You know we could have made it work."
"It would not have, Draco. Your father would never have accepted you marrying me, and you know it."
"I could have handled him-"
"You could never have stopped your father from hating me. He may have faked his feelings in public for his own sake in public, but that man would have made our lives hell. I didn't deserve to have a father-in-law abusing me, or even worse, our children. And I loved you too much to force you to choose between us."
Draco exhaled deeply, trying to process everything he was hearing, and now worst of all, moments after he thought he'd be making love to Hermione, he was instead thinking of his dead father, a man he'd had a complicated relationship with until the end (and was seemingly haunting them like a demon tonight). He pondered Hermione's words, thinking about how displeased Lucius had been over Draco's work in reconciliation and how he had gone to his grave still thinking Muggles were inferior. Hermione was probably right that he would have made their lives miserable, and now he felt resentment thinking that his father had been a reason he had missed out on happiness. But Draco had still loved him to the end, and there was nothing to be done about it now.
"Well, even if you're right, my father's long gone, and your children are grown up, so what's stopping you now?"
Hermione paused, and then decided she didn't have the strength to lie.
"My mother. I was going to leave Ron six months ago. We haven't been happy in ages, and I was ready to go, but I...I found out my mum is sick."
There it was. That was the sadness Draco had sensed earlier. "Shit. Hermione, she's sick? How sick?" Draco asked, wondering which deity he had angered to make the night turn out so terribly.
"She's dying, Draco," Hermione said, again fighting tears that seemed to never stop. "I can't deal with that while ending a marriage, Draco. I don't want my mum's last memories of me to be of my marriage to Ron falling apart. She loves Ron and would be devastated."
"I'm so, so sorry, Hermione. Truly I am." He ran over to hug her, and she wrapped her arms so tightly around his neck that it almost affected his breathing, but he didn't care. "Is there anything I can do? Any healers I can call on?
"We've tried everything," she said while letting go of him. "Some things can't be fixed by magic, not even the best magic money can buy. Thank you though." Draco reached for her hand, and was relieved when she didn't reject it, instead placing her palm inside of his, gripping it tightly while she stared out into the distance, gazing towards the mountains. His heart hurt thinking of how alone she must have felt all this time. He pulled a tissue from his jacket and handed it to her, and she nodded in thanks.
"And what about Astoria and Scorpius?" she finally asked, wanting to change the subject to something (slightly) less painful.
"Astoria's been having an affair with Theo for years," Draco sighed. "You know her family forced her to marry me, so I'm not really upset like I should be, except for all the years she and I have lost where we might have been happy. Only Scorpius has made it worth it. We've been as decent to each other as we could muster, for his sake, but we both have known the whole time that we'd rather be with other people."
Hermione nodded. Really, she had already known this, because Draco had explained it to her when he had asked to marry her, right before Hermione broke off the affair. He had told her he never loved Astoria, but Hermione had hoped eventually he'd learn to, because the thought that she might have caused him years of heartbreak, that he hadn't moved on from, was too much to manage. At least she had loved Ron once; not as much as she loved Draco, but enough to dull some of the pain, at least initially.
"I'm sorry, Draco. I didn't mean…well, for any of this. When I saw you, I got carried away and lost myself, but really I didn't come here with intentions to rekindle this or cheat on Ron." She took a deep breath and continued. "You asked me why I reached out to you. Truthfully, I've felt so alone in the years since Rose and Hugo went to Hogwarts, and it made me realize how much I missed you. There were so many nights when I wished I were with you, especially when Ron and I really started falling apart. Then after I found out about my mum, it was even worse. I just needed something to bring me joy. I knew seeing you would make me happy, because you've understood me better than almost anyone else. I didn't even think about how it might make you feel. Forgive me."
"It's alright, Hermione. I understand. I'm so sorry you've felt alone all these years." He knew he needed to say more, but his mind was blank. He was more angry with himself somehow for not knowing Hermione was suffering, and cursing himself for not reaching out or trying to get her back, or at least attempting to be her friend instead of being selfishly focused on his own feelings. He'd hid like a coward instead, and they had both paid the price.
The both stood in silence, the darkness that had previously felt romantic now instead adding to the discomfort they both felt, perhaps since it was echoing the darkness inside of them. Two people who may as well have been strangers again, and despite each other's presence, feeling more alone than ever. Draco had lost his will for magic, and as the lumos and warming spells ended, the frigid darkness enveloped them, and a wolf's cry rang out from the distance. Hermione suddenly felt like she was back at Hogwarts in the Forbidden Forest and wanted to get away.
"We should go back," Hermione finally said. Draco nodded and held his hand out to apparate, and almost immediately they found themselves back in London, this time near by the Tower of London. There were a surprising number of people walking about, people cheerfully enjoying the Christmas lights and holiday village that had been set up in the open space near the tower. It had finally started snowing, and in another circumstance, it would have been quite beautiful. But instead the scene just made Hermione's heart ache, as though everyone was mocking the two of them with their joy.
"I'm sorry about how I acted, Hermione. You were right to stop us," Draco offered as they stood in the open space, staring intently at each other. "I just, I was so excited to see you. I didn't mean to pressure you, it's just, this is the happiest I've felt in a long time-"
"I have thought of you every day," Hermione interrupted. "I'm not angry."
"I'm sorry I couldn't be your friend, Hermione. I should have been there for you."
"I could have tried too. It's my fault as well." Both of their faces softened, and they both felt a sense of relief. So many things were wrong in their lives, but at least they cared enough to say they were sorry, and hopefully forgive each other.
"Is there any way I can see you again, Hermione? Maybe…just as a friend?"
Hermione pondered on this, and then replied, "Yes, yes I want that. Not yet, but in time."
"Great, wonderful," Draco sighed in relief. It was something. "Also, please, if there's anything I can do for your mother, let me know."
"I will, thank you. I appreciate it." Hermione paused, looking around nervously before leaning in and giving Draco a quick kiss on the cheek. "I should go. I'm already late for Harry and Ginny's party. Happy Christmas, Draco. Thank you for meeting me." She wondered if she should say more, but worried that if she lingered she'd skip the party and decide to go spend the night with him after all. She began hurrying away, trying to fight back another round of tears as the snow washed over her.
"We deserve to be happy, Hermione," Draco called out from behind her.
Hermione stopped, indicating that she had heard him, but she didn't look back. Instead, she kept walking away, and Draco watched her, not taking his eyes off of her until eventually she had faded away into the darkness.