Hogwarts 6th year – December
Draco hated parties now. The celebratory nature and overall good spirits of partygoers only emphasized how lonely and utterly miserable he was.
Professor Slughorn had decided to host a Christmas party for all his favourite and most promising students, the infamous "Slug Club." Draco had come with Blaise Zabini, his fellow housemate and friend. He didn't really care for socializing or "networking", as Slughorn and several attendees kept mentioning. He noticed Potter in attendance, along with the She-Weasel and other Gryffindors. His eyes scanned the room for one Gryffindor that he was certain would be coming—at least, that's what she'd told him in class when they'd spoken of the dinner.
In all honesty, she was probably the only reason he'd agree to even come. That, and Cormac McLaggen's incessant harassment of her. The fucking wanker had come to their workstation in potions countless times leading up to the event, promising Granger they'd find a mistletoe or that they'd leave early and go back to the tower together. It had taken everything in Draco's power not to use an unforgivable on the idiot.
Draco knew his jealousy was stupid. He would never have enough of a claim on her to dignify any jealousy—but it couldn't really be helped. Hermione Granger was a beautiful, intelligent, and kind young woman…and others were starting to notice her too. He was a Death Eater, tasked with killing one of the most beloved wizards of a generation. He didn't deserve her.
They'd all taken their seats at the dinner table. There were less than fifteen people in attendance, but the table easily held enough food for the entirety of Slytherin house. Draco noticed wine chalices set for every attendee as well, and thought for the first time that night, Slughorn knew how to throw a party. He began drinking from his when he noticed her walk in.
Hermione hadn't seen or noticed him yet, clearly flustered about being late. She was never late. Dressed in a skin-tight black dress that ended above her knees, the Gryffindor princess was easily the loveliest girl here. His eyes drank her in, and he couldn't help the sense of longing that threatened to consume him then. He was so fucking lonely, and the only times he felt even close to normal was when they spoke in class.
She must have felt his gaze on her, as she finally looked at him and met his eyes. Hermione offered him a small smile then, and she also must have noticed the last empty seat had been next to him as she began walking over.
Before his mind could catch up to his body, Draco had gotten up to pull her chair out. In traditional Pureblood society, it was customary to do this… at least that's what he told himself after she took her seat.
"Malfoy," she greeted, her voice sounding breathless, "thank you."
He shrugged and said nothing, as he did not want Blaise to listen. If Draco said anything remotely "sweet", Blaise would hound him with questions afterwards. They both knew each other too well… and the Italian was very observant, probably already having noticed his polite gesture.
"Now that everyone is here," Slughorn said as he stood from his chair, chalice in hand, "I would like to raise a toast, to the best and brightest students of this fine institution."
Blaise scoffed, and Draco tried to ignore him, otherwise he would laugh.
"Here, here!" Slughorn raised his drink, and everyone followed. "Here, here!" the students repeated, and took a sip of the wine.
"I miss Italian wine," Blaise sighed as he put down his drink.
"Snob," Draco scoffed, "I for one, will be indulging in this wine for the remainder of the evening."
"Oh, so will I," his Slytherin counterpart said with a smile, "doesn't mean I like it."
"Granger!" a familiar voice called, and Draco instantly sobered.
He turned his head in her direction, noticing that she had also been greedy with her wine. In front of her stood McLaggen, and she seemed uncomfortable.
"Look what I found" the boy beamed at her, and Draco nearly leapt over the table upon seeing the object he held.
"Oh, a mistletoe," she said lamely, "that's nice."
"Care to hang it up with me?" McLaggen asked, "somewhere…more private?"
She took another swig of her wine. "Not particularly Cormac, we're probably going to eat soon."
The boy was unwavering, he hadn't even the decency to look deterred. "It'll only take a few minutes…"
"She said no McLaggen," Draco snapped, "leave."
"I didn't know you spoke for Hermione," McLaggen looked at him with a challenging gleam to his eyes, "stay out of it Malfoy."
"She told you herself, you're just a wanker who didn't like the answer," Draco sneered.
The tension between both boys was thicker than Cormac himself. They were eyeing each other with equal distaste and Draco nearly pulled out his wand, before a short blonde witch appeared.
"Is that a mistletoe?" Luna Lovegood interrupted and snatched the object from McLaggen's hand.
"Give that back!" the boy snapped at the younger Ravenclaw.
"It's full of Nargles!" she protested, "we need to burn it."
"What the fuck are you on about?" Cormac almost yelled at her.
Luna didn't answer this time, as she made her way to the fireplace at the back of the room and tossed the damned decoration into it. Cormac looked like he was going to throttle her, but simply walked out of the room. What had just happened?
"Meet me behind those curtains in 5 minutes," Hermione motioned to the area she was speaking of, her voice having been barely above a whisper.
He simply nodded in confusion, as she got up and stalked over to the hidden spot.
"What was that about?" Blaise finally spoke, and Draco cringed as he'd been so upset that he'd forgotten about his friend.
"He's a right foul git," Draco said, "he always bothers her in potions too."
"I wasn't referring to McLaggen being an insufferable prat," the boy said knowingly, "I meant you—your reaction."
"I—I wanted him out of my face, he was polluting the air around us."
"Right," Zabini said, not pushing too much. Draco was grateful for it.
Five minutes later, Draco got up from his chair and took a different route to the spot where Granger was waiting for him. He was confused, but his curiosity was piqued above all else.
"Granger," he whispered upon seeing her.
"Thank you for stepping in back there," she said, looking at him as though he was worth something. Hermione had started to look at him this way more and more, it had been doing dangerous things to his psyche.
"It was nothing," he shrugged, "fuck McLaggen, he's a git."
She chuckled, "that he is."
"So why did you want to meet here?" he asked, trying not to sound too nervous. They were completely hidden and alone.
The words sobered her up, as Hermione looked at him with nerves then. Her amber eyes stared into his stormy ones, and Draco could have sworn he was watching a battle rage within them. She let out a shaky breath and stepped closer to him. He could smell her woody perfume and feel the heat of her breath on him. He felt his heartbeat quicken at the proximity, as he was still confused.
"I wanted to tell you that…that I enjoy being your potions partner," she breathed, and a wave of cinnamon and heat filled his senses. If he hadn't been drunk before, he surely was now. Drunk on Hermione Granger.
Draco didn't respond, waiting for her to say something else. Surely, she hadn't summoned him here to simply tell him that. The tension between them had become unbearable, and he hadn't felt this way in a very long time.
"I feel as though I've learned a lot in these months," she continued, "a lot about you, that is."
"Oh?" he managed to say, but his voice had been uneven.
"And I can't help myself… but I think about you, a lot," she looked down, "more than I care to admit."
"What?" Draco said lamely, as he felt his mouth run dry.
"Tonight, when you defended me, I had to refrain from holding your hand and it put a lot into perspective for me," Hermione said sheepishly, "I guess what I'm trying to say, is that I like you."
Draco simply stared at her then. He'd been racking his brain for weeks, thinking about her, about how much he liked her, and it had felt like a hopeless feat. Even just thinking about his feelings had put him in a melancholic state, as he always thought she'd never return them. Never in a million years. Yet, here she was, putting her heart on the line, being vulnerable—being brave. Something in his brain clicked then, and he knew she would always be important to him.
"Can you say something?" she said, looking at him nervously.
He couldn't. He wanted to, but couldn't. She'd taken him completely by surprise and uttered words that he would probably hold on to for the rest of his life… no matter how short it probably was going to be.
Draco decided to show her instead, as he pulled her to him and joined their lips.
Hermione's lips were softer than he'd imagined, tasting of vanilla and… cinnamon. It took her only a second to recover, and then she was kissing him back. They both took their time at first, being soft with one another and then she moaned. The sound had ignited something in Draco that had been dormant for a long time, and he started. His tongue prodded her mouth open, and he was now kissing her with more fervor and heat than he thought he could muster. She was returning it in equal waves of passion and intensity, sucking on his tongue and lower lip.
Her delicate fingers tugged at his hair and the nape of his neck, and he felt himself growing increasingly harder. She must have taken notice, as she ground herself into him, earning a growl of appreciation in response.
The taste of her, mixed with the movements of her tongue and body were driving him mad with desire. He pulled away, and it had been one of the hardest things he'd ever done. Draco knew if they hadn't stopped then, he would've taken her behind that measly curtain—she deserved better than that.
Hermione look at him through glazed eyes and swollen lips. Her chest moved with her breaths and Draco finally found his voice.
"I like you too."
Present Day
She'd known the day would come when Draco would be standing in the Australian ministry. Oliver Turner had told her of the multitude of ministerial delegates who were supposed to be arriving within the next week or so, however she had not expected it to be today—and certainly had not anticipated Draco waltzing in, unannounced.
She'd mentally scolded herself for folding so easily with his coffee test, but it couldn't be helped. Hermione had been much too shocked for anything else to cross her mind. She knew it was futile to act like it wasn't her—Draco would have seen right through her.
"Come with me now," he'd demanded, in a tone so serious she nearly cried right there and then.
When they'd finally been alone and she'd heard her name on his lips, she actually did cry.
"Yes, yes it's me," she'd admitted, the weight of her lie rolling off her in waves. It had been years since Hermione could admit such a thing, and the thought still scared her.
Draco sank to his knees then, and she watched as a sob tore through him.
"H-how?" he said, as his chest heaved, and tears spilled down his beautiful face. She'd never seen him look so… broken. It shattered something in her too.
Hermione sank down in front of him, meeting his gaze at the same level. "I-I can't—"
He lunged for her then, grabbing her arms. There was so much hurt ebbed on his face, she couldn't stand it. "TELL ME HOW," he cried.
She contemplated lying again, the habit having become so instinctual to her. It had been years since she'd spoken to anyone from her old life—apart from her parents.
Hermione had imagined her reunion with Draco more time than she could count. She'd imagined returning to England a couple of weeks after she'd vanished. After more time had passed, she'd started to imagine the reunion being a couple of months later, and even years. She'd envisioned herself knocking at his door and surprising him. She'd pictured herself arriving at the ministry, being photographed, and having her friends find out through the Daily Prophet of her return. She'd imagined sending owls, telling him and everyone else that she was alive and that she'd see them soon. The visions she'd made up in her head had been countless. They'd become less frequent as the years passed, but she never truly gave up hope.
It was real now. None of her visions could have prepared her for this. Seeing the love of her life, on his knees for her—because of her, a broken shell of the man he once was… she couldn't lie to him again.
His grip on her never let up. Draco was holding her so desperately; it was as if he thought she'd disappear again. Hermione didn't move but began recounting the tale of everything that followed that fateful battle. He listened the entire time, never interrupting, never commenting. The only indication that he was listening at all was the unrelenting grip he'd had on her, coupled with this continuous flow of tears.
She'd finally finished explaining, and her own tears had begun to overwhelm her. Hermione's chest felt heavy once again, any relief she'd felt earlier having completely dissipated.
After what felt like hours, Draco finally let go of her. He wiped at his face and steadied his breathing. Hermione took this time to examine the man in front of her, noticing his hair was longer—kind of David Beckham-esque. It suited him. He had put on some weight, in a good way… a far cry from the lanky and sickly boy she'd fallen in love with at Hogwarts.
"Don't ever lie to me again," he said, his voice half-pleading and half-demanding.
"I promise," she breathed.
"Losing you was…" he released a shaky breath, "like not being able to breath for the longest time."
She didn't say anything. She couldn't.
"I never really mourned you, I didn't know how," Draco looked down, fidgeting with something on the ground. "I just felt like a vital part of me had been taken away, and I didn't know how to exist with whatever was left."
Hermione began crying again, unable to keep her composure. She hadn't expected her "death" to affect him this much. Hearing how crushed he'd been… it made her feel so much worse.
"I didn't know how to exist either," she said in between sobs, "I still don't. I guess I don't even exist if we're being technical. Beatrice was an escape from remembering everything—the ache for you and everyone else was always there… but as Beatrice, it was much easier to pretend."
He nodded his understanding, but clearly was not satisfied with anything she'd said to him. She knew he would never really understand, but there was nothing else to be done for it.
"You were staring, by the way."
She blushed, not even knowing why she felt embarrassed. It had been a long time since she'd felt embarrassed in front of him. "You've changed."
"So have you… Beatrice," he scoffed, "what kind of rubbish name is that anyway?"
"I was holding onto my Shakespeare-inspired name… I happen to like it!" she chuckled.
"Can you take off your glamour?" he said in a more serious tone, "I need to see you."
Hermione hesitated, knowing it was risky to unglamour herself here. No one would see... With a nod, she pulled out her wand and began peeling back the layers of the glamour until she was practically laid bare. At least, that's how she felt.
Draco looked so relieved, and when he let out a deep sigh and pulled her to him, she knew he must have felt much more at ease. He hugged her to him and sobbed into her hair. "You smell the same."
"So do you," she let out, her voice hoarse.
They stayed that way for what felt like hours. Just wrapped up in each other, appreciating the time they had, and mourning the time they'd lost.
And it had been so much time.
Thank you for those who've reviewed and messaged me! I appreciate you so much.
I didn't want to leave the cliffhanger going for too long, so here is the update. I listened to "Experience" by Ludovico Einaudi a lot while writing this, and if I may recommend listening to it as you read, it is truly such a beautiful piece.
Please review! x
