Disclaimer: I don't own these characters or the Harry Potter world. Just writing for fun.
A/N: This story is being written for Dramione FanFiction Writers 2020 Challenge. For November, we had to use a random "first line generator." Since my story is from Hermione's POV exclusively, I had to click 3 times to get one that would work. Here was my line: "She opened her handbag and tipped the contents onto the floor."
Now. This would obviously not work for the beginning of this chapter, considering where we left Hermione. LOL. So I did what I've done in the past and used it as the opening for one of the days. Hope it works!
Beta thanks go, as always, to dormiensa and dreamsofdramione.
Sunday, 1 OCTOBER
Hermione's eyes shot open. She wasn't sure if it was the pounding headache or the roiling stomach that woke her; either could vie for the prize. For a moment, she didn't know where she was. The room was pitch black, save for a few dying embers in the fire of—
The Malfoy library.
Merlin. She was warm and, if she wasn't mistaken, she could feel the gentle rise and fall of something under her head—which was splitting. She tried to remember what had happened the night before, but her stomach was beginning to demand her attention. Draco was awkwardly half-lying, half-sitting on the green velvet sofa, his expensive clothes all rumpled from where she'd been asleep on him.
Carefully, so as not to disturb him, Hermione sat up. He moved very slightly but didn't wake, and she closed her eyes in relief, allowing herself a moment before she did anything else. She felt warm still and discovered that she was covered by a blanket. Oh so gently, she laid it on him, lest he wake up cold because he was missing her body heat. Her stomach lurched, and Hermione knew she needed to hurry. She slowly raised herself from the sofa so that the loss of her weight wouldn't disturb him, then let out a shaky breath.
She'd never seen him asleep before, and even though she was pushing her luck, she allowed herself to stare at him for a long moment.
Finally, she knew she couldn't ignore her body, and she rushed from the room, casting a charm on the door so that it would close silently behind her. The nearest bathroom was at least one hall over, but she ran as fast as she possibly could, throwing open the door and reaching the toilet just in time to evacuate the contents of her stomach into it.
When it finally passed, she slouched onto the bathroom floor, surprised to find a house-elf waiting with a cup of water and a cool washcloth.
"Oh, thank you." She shakily accepted the water, took only a sip, then pressed the washcloth to her forehead and neck. She had really overdone it the night before. "What time is it?"
"It's nearing five in the morning, Miss. Will you be requiring anything else?" Pippi appeared genuinely concerned. "Shall I wake the Master or the Mistress?"
"No!" she cried hurriedly, causing the poor elf to jump. Hermione forced herself to smile. "No, Pippi, though I appreciate your concern. This is nothing more than the repercussions for me drinking too much last night. I'll be quite all right." Another wave of sick washed over her, and Hermione turned to retch again. Pippi was there again with a fresh wash cloth. Hermione knew that no Sober-Up Potion would help at this point; she'd likely just expel it with the next round. All she could do was hope that it would pass quickly and she could Floo home before anyone woke up.
"Would the Miss like some crackers?" Pippi was wringing her hands, clearly distressed at not being able to do anything.
Hermione wracked her brain for some errand on which she might send the elf, finally settling on a cup of ginger tea.
"Right away, Miss."
Pippi disappeared in a pop and Hermione was sick once more. She was thankful that the elf had missed this round, though why she should care at this point, she didn't know. At least it would take a few minutes to brew the tea, and Hermione could tell she was nearing the end of the business. She drank a little more of the water and wiped her forehead, then leaned against the wall while she waited—for either the tea or to throw up again, whichever came first.
It wasn't the tea. Hermione felt someone hold her hair back as she finished up. She turned around, dreading that somehow Draco had woken, but it was only Pippi. She smiled at the elf and stood to examine herself in the mirror.
Her reflection looked as dreadful as she felt. Hermione grimaced.
"Tea is ready, Miss Hermione." Pippi brought a small tea service into the bathroom and Hermione sat back down to drink it as quickly as possible.
In seconds, she felt better, and she suspected the elf had put more than ginger in the tea. "Thank you, Pippi. This is wonderful."
"It's Master Draco's own tea mix. For just such an occasion."
Hermione nodded. "He should sell it. I feel very well already. Well enough, in fact, to head home."
Pippi's eyes went wide with horror. "Oh, no, Miss Hermione! You mustn't travel in such a state! Let Pippi set you up in a nice guest room with big, fluffy blankets and clean sheets and soft pillows! The Mistress will be so pleased to have you for breakfast in a few hours."
"That's very kind, Pippi, but I'm afraid it's impossible." She stood up, and a wave of nausea washed over her, but she refused to let it stop her. She simply could not be here when Draco woke. It was imperative that she get home and try to remember just what had happened the night before and how she'd wound up asleep on Draco's chest at nearly five in the morning.
Pippi followed her through the house as Hermione made her way to the fireplace. Thankfully, she was quite familiar with Malfoy Manor by this point and took only a single wrong turn. Pippi was there to set her back on course again, and as the clock struck five in the Traveling Room, Hermione threw the green powder into the fire and called her destination into the flames.
When she arrived in her flat, she rushed to the bathroom and heaved once more. Traveling by Floo while as sick as she was guaranteed that she'd be sick again, but she'd had no choice. She found herself wishing for more of Draco's tea, but she'd simply have to make do with what she had.
She put the kettle on and, despite feeling queasy, didn't throw up again. When the cup was prepared, Hermione thought to lock her Floo; she couldn't risk Draco trying to come through and talk to her. She had a feeling she needed to remember the previous night as soon as possible so that she could prepare for whatever response he might have.
When her tea was ready, Hermione grabbed her Pensieve. With a shaking hand, she pulled her memory of the night before out of her head and deposited it into the basin. Before she looked, however, she tried to remember everything that she could on her own. Her night had started with the horrible results from the Wizengamot. Then she'd gone to Harry and told him everything straight away. He had invited her out for drinks, and they'd run into Ron and Pansy. She'd wanted to ignore the bad news for a little while, and she knew she had had too much to drink, but then something had gotten into her head about the unfairness of it all. Someone had mentioned Draco, and she started stewing in her thoughts about him and his success with Hogwarts. She had come to the conclusion that she needed to confront him—only she couldn't remember exactly why she'd felt the need to do it right then.
She sighed and dipped her face into the Pensieve. The memory was hazy, as memories were when the person was drunk, but she saw herself outside Malfoy Manor, saw herself fall into Draco's arms. They had a brief conversation, and then the memory cleared up after he gave her a sobering potion. She relaxed a bit as she watched, the memory less hazy, but then she noticed Draco grab a bottle of whiskey and she cringed as she watched herself drink more.
"No," she lamented, as her memory self took swig after swig of the admittedly delicious beverage. Finally, her eyes widened in horror as she saw herself practically fall on top of him, gazing up at him with lovestruck eyes—for lack of a better term—before she leaned up and kissed him. The memory went dark when she fell asleep.
Hermione came out of the Pensieve and sat back in her chair, feeling like she'd been slapped in the face. How could she ever face him again? From what she'd seen, he had done nothing to suggest that he wanted her to kiss him; her action had come out of nowhere. The worst part of it all was that she couldn't even quite recall what it had felt like to kiss him—though, it couldn't truly be called a kiss. She'd pressed her lips to his, the connection a mere fraction of a second, before laying her head on him and passing out.
The rest she had to piece together from how she found things when she woke. It looked like Draco hadn't moved much from that position, with her asleep on top of him. He had covered her with a blanket, but then he hadn't made any effort to get more comfortable himself. Though, she surmised he had probably done his best to magically cushion himself.
Hermione groaned and lowered her head to the table. What would he think of her now? Merlin, she had actually kissed him! She'd crossed that line she'd sworn to herself she wouldn't cross! He was dating Suzanne, for Merlin's sake!
She raised her head, her eyes swiveling until they rested on her writing desk. In a flash, she crossed the room and took out a quill and parchment. She started and subsequently burned four different letters before finally landing on one she felt she could send.
Draco,
I must beg your forgiveness for my actions last night. It was a mistake that should never have happened. My wish, above all others, is that you would forget it, pretend like it never happened, and we can go back to the way things were.
Sincerely,
Hermione
She stared at it, reread it, considered every word for longer than she wanted to admit, then finally tied it to the leg of her owl and sent it off.
While she waited for a reply she wasn't even sure she'd get—one she certainly didn't deserve—Hermione started cleaning her flat. The Muggle way. It felt really good to scrub things by hand, to take out the anxiety she was feeling on the kitchen sink, the bathroom floor, and, quite reasonably, the toilet.
She was just about to start on the grout in her shower when there was a tapping at her window. She threw her cleaning things down, pulled off her elbow-length rubber gloves, and rushed to let the bird in. Her heart skipped and her stomach did a funny somersault when she recognized Draco's Eagle Owl. With shaking fingers, she removed the note.
The owl nipped playfully at her hand, and she hurried to give him a treat before he flew away.
Hermione,
Of course. Consider it forgotten.
Draco
Her heart dropped into her stomach, and she realized that, despite her adamant wish for him to forget that she'd kissed him while almost black-out drunk, some nugget of hope must have formed inside her heart without her realizing—hope that he would send some other kind of reply, telling her that he'd welcomed the kiss, brief though it was.
No, it wasn't even a kiss. She hadn't even moved her lips once she'd pressed them to his, so it didn't count. It was simply a mistake. She couldn't imagine that anything about what she'd done had inspired a wish for it to be repeated. It had been stupid for her subconscious to hope.
Hermione shook her head, tucked the note into a book, and rose to truly begin her day.
ooo
After a shower and a proper breakfast, complete with another hangover potion, Hermione felt almost completely normal. She opened her planner and examined the month ahead. Though, now that her case had been lost, she didn't know what the month held. She couldn't look at her art class with any sort of anticipation. She hadn't even started the book for her book club that was scheduled to meet later in the week.
Worst of all, the date of the year's final Malfoy Foundation event loomed near the end of the month, mocking her with its existence. She could reasonably avoid Draco for the weeks leading up to the event, but there was no way that he wouldn't be there, and of course, it was assumed that Hermione would attend. She was, after all, one of the two primary organizers. This event, more than any others, she'd thrown herself into the planning and organizing of, and she was excited for it—not to mention excited to learn what the focus of the fundraising would be.
At least… she had been, until she'd gone and fallen on Draco's mouth.
There was no way she could face him, but she was expected at the Manor a few times in the near future for planning purposes with Narcissa. That should be fine, Hermione told herself. Draco wasn't usually there for those sessions, and there was no need to suspect otherwise. He could go back to his girlfriend—just thinking the word made her heart squeeze painfully—as though The Incident had never happened.
She'd need to find a date—and not just Ron or Harry—because of course, Draco would probably invite Suzanne. She didn't know many details about that relationship, but he'd brought Astoria to the fundraiser in April, and that had been their one and only date. Surely he'd bring Suzanne, since they were in an actual relationship.
Hermione's mind began to spin as she considered who to invite. Marcus came to mind, but she instantly dismissed the thought; that would be cruel. Then she considered seeing if Harry or Ron knew anybody. She knew things were bad when she considered letting Pansy set her up.
A brief glance at her planner showed that the event was still over two weeks away, and she relaxed slightly. She had time to find someone.
Oh! Maybe Viktor! He was still single, as far as she knew, and he'd always said that she could reach out to him if she needed anything. And, truly, her situation felt dire, even if it was all in her own head. She needed Draco to see that she desperately meant what she'd written, that the kiss had been a mistake, and that they should pretend nothing had happened. She recognized that this was a coping mechanism, that she was trying to overcompensate in an effort to protect her heart, but still…
She hoped it worked.
ooo
Saturday, 7 October
Hermione was relieved when Saturday finally came around. Without her job to go to, she felt listless and unmoored. She didn't miss the work, far from it, but at least going to the Ministry every day gave her life a rhythm that she now lacked and sorely missed.
Narcissa had invited her over for the afternoon so they could discuss some final details for the Foundation event, and beyond seeing Harry at lunch, she'd be the first human Hermione had interacted with in days.
There was no chance that Draco would be there, which gave Hermione some comfort. Even though she'd said she wanted to pretend nothing had happened, she simply couldn't get the images out of her head. Waking up, effectively in his arms, seeing him resting so peacefully, the dying fire crackling now and then. It was the stuff of her dreams now because it was the closest she'd ever come to that being a reality.
Narcissa greeted her warmly, kissing both cheeks, and led her into the parlor. "I've prepared tea. I thought we might begin there and then we can move to the sitting area to continue the discussion."
Hermione nodded, feeling relaxed in a way she hadn't in a week, despite being back in the place where she'd stupidly kissed Draco. No, where she'd fallen on his lips with her mouth. It wasn't a kiss! Although, to be fair, a kiss was the best way she could think to easily and quickly describe it, and so she resolved to call it a kiss, knowing that it was always followed by an asterisk in her mind.
"How have you been? Draco said you'd stopped by last week. I'm sorry I missed you."
Hermione's cheeks began to burn and she set to work, preparing her tea to hide her reaction from Narcissa the best she could. "Oh, um, yes, I did. I had a few questions for him."
Narcissa arched a sculpted eyebrow. "At nearly midnight?"
Even though the last thing she wanted to do was look at Narcissa, Hermione couldn't help but glance up in surprise. The Malfoy matriarch was coolly sipping her tea, regarding Hermione with amusement. She felt even more ridiculous.
"Well, I'd had a bit too much to drink, I'll admit, and probably should have waited until a more socially acceptable hour." He hadn't told his mother about the kiss, had he? He wouldn't have, right?
"And did you receive answers to your satisfaction?"
Hermione frowned. It wasn't like Narcissa to pry, nor to seem so pleased with herself in doing so. Before she could reply, however, Narcissa continued with a wave of her hand.
"Draco merely said it had to do with the case you lost. That you were upset."
She was now thoroughly on edge. "Yes. It was a mistake to come so late, but to my addled brain, it made perfect sense to confront him about why he'd been successful in his endeavors where I was not."
Narcissa's expression faltered, taking on something more like sympathy. "Oh, I see. He… he didn't elaborate, and I…" She set her cup down and rolled her shoulders back. "Forgive me, Hermione. I let myself get a bit carried away. How has your week been?"
Hermione hesitated, then groaned and told Narcissa everything about losing her job. It hadn't come as a surprise, but it was still unwelcome and embarrassing. She had no idea what she was going to do next, and she told Narcissa as much.
"The worst part is, I'm afraid I've burned every single bridge to the Ministry. No matter what I do, I can't see them ever hiring me again in any capacity."
Narcissa shrugged elegantly. "There are many other places worthy of your devotion." Her eyes brightened. "You could join the Foundation in a permanent, full-time capacity."
"That's very kind of you, Narcissa, but I'm afraid I need an actual paycheck."
"Don't be ridiculous. I know that, of course. We'd hire you in a position that we would create for you, wherein you would continue to do exactly what you've been doing." She actually seemed to be excited about the idea. "Under your care, we could even expand our calendar, and you could spend your time seeking other worthy causes that we might assist. I want you to seriously consider it."
Hermione smiled weakly. As much as she liked the idea, as much as she admired the woman across from her and all the work she'd done over the years since the war, Hermione didn't think her future was in managing and running a charitable organization. Not to mention that she'd frequently be in Draco's company, and watching him fulfill his family obligations by marrying and having a family wasn't something she could bear to consider at present.
"Don't say no." Narcissa held up a finger. "Just say you'll think about it."
Hermione sighed. "All right. That I can do."
"Good. Let's discuss the event. Now, as you know, our October event usually revolves around the Ministry of Magic. We like to… how shall I put this? Help correct things the Ministry has messed up during the course of the year. Draco is in discussions with a few people over what exactly will be featured. But we can work on the seating chart. It's always quite tricky when dealing with the Ministry. You've got to please the right people, either by seating them close to or far from specific people." Narcissa then broke down what would be happening, while Hermione listened and took notes.
Ninety minutes later, they found themselves standing beside a table, directing a miniature version of the potential dinner guests as they attempted to satisfactorily seat everyone. They'd just realized that putting the Head of International Magical Cooperation beside the Head of Muggle Relations would be a disaster, and they were laughing over an incident between the two women that had made the papers just that week.
Hermione's back was to the door, and she didn't notice Narcissa's attention drawn in that direction.
"Ah, Draco! Good, you're here! What do you think of these arrangements?"
Hermione's body froze but her heart started pounding furiously. She didn't look up as Draco crossed the room to survey the miniature scene.
He chuckled a few times, made a few comments about the guests, then stood back to examine it one last time. "I think it's fine, Mother." Then he looked at her. "Hello, Hermione."
"Hi."
There was a long pause before she turned back to the table as though she needed to look at something very closely. It was awkward and she knew it, but she had no idea what else to do or how to react. Yes, she'd told him to forget it, but clearly that was not something she would have an easy time doing.
After a moment, he cleared his throat and continued speaking with his mother. Hermione could barely hear them over the sound of the blood pounding in her ears. She had to withdraw her hand from nudging a little figure because she was shaking.
Somehow, she'd gone from wanting to see him—all the time, as much as possible—to being anxious for him to leave. Surely this would pass, wouldn't it? Maybe once she got over the awkwardness of kissing him, they'd get back to where they'd been: the place where she had ever-growing feelings for him and he regarded her as a friend, and they would have deep, interesting and stimulating conversations now and again. He would continue to do amazing things that would make her adore him as a person. He would take her breath away with one of his special smiles…
And then he would fall in love and get married—to someone else—and she would have to watch.
"Hermione?"
She jumped, startled. "I'm sorry. What were you saying?" Both Narcissa and Draco were looking at her, the former amused, the latter wary.
"What do you think of putting the Head of Games and Sports at the same table with your former Department Head?" Narcissa pointed to the two little figures who represented those individuals.
Hermione shook her head slightly to clear her thoughts. "Oh, um, that sounds all right to me."
Narcissa gave Draco a satisfied smirk. "That should be interesting, don't you think, darling? Oh, to be invisible at that table."
Draco chuckled and shook his head. "Who can we seat there that we could count on giving us a thorough retelling afterwards? What about Jenkins and his wife? He's an Auror who always wants to impress Potter. He'd talk to me, since Potter is my partner."
"Perfect." Narcissa made the change and then smiled. "Well, I think we're done. I'll finish up our table later. Why don't I ask the elves to bring us more tea?"
Hermione nearly panicked and she spoke before Draco could. "Oh, I really ought to be going, Narcissa. But thank you for the lovely afternoon!"
Narcissa's expression dipped ever so slightly, and her eyes darted to her son. "Draco, will you see Hermione out?"
"Thank you, really, but I know where I'm going!" Her voice was a little too panicked. She forced a smile and gathered her things. "Really, Draco just got home, and I can find my way down the hall without an escort. Please don't hesitate to owl me if you need anything."
She practically ran out of the room.
ooo
Sunday, 15 OCTOBER
Sundays at The Burrow were some of the best, and Hermione especially loved the crisp, autumn days with a roaring fire, warm drinks, and fabulous conversation. She felt a little restless this day, however, a bit detached from all the happiness around her. After dinner, when Hermione found herself alone by the fire and not interested in leaving it, Ginny sat down beside her.
"What's going on?" Ginny was gazing at her expectantly.
Hermione stared at the flames, trying to keep her expression impassive. "What do you mean?"
Ginny raised an eyebrow. "You've been off all day; don't think I haven't noticed. Is it—did something happen?"
Hermione felt a rush of both gratitude that her friend had seen her and relief at remembering she had someone she could talk to. She glanced around to find that they were well and truly alone but cast a Muffliato Charm anyway.
"The truth is… something did happen, Ginny."
"With Malfoy, you mean?" Her eyes danced in the firelight, eager for all the details.
Hermione didn't hesitate. She told Ginny about everything that had happened after she'd lost the case, from drinks with Harry to Apparating to Malfoy Manor.
Ginny gasped. "You didn't! Hermione that's... very dangerous, very bold, and not at all like you! I'm so proud!"
Hermione laughed, then finished the tale. "I kissed him, but then I quickly fell asleep. On him."
Ginny gaped at her, then squealed. "Yes? And? What did he say?"
"Nothing, I... I woke up a few hours later and was sick in a bathroom. Then I left and went home without talking to him." She buried her face in her hands. "Some Gryffindor I am! And then I immediately wrote to him, telling him to forget it had happened."
"You didn't!" Ginny cried. "Hermione! What did he say?"
"He agreed. Of course he would. And now... Oh, Ginny, things are so awkward between us!" Hermione groaned. "I've seen him three times—three! Three times in the last week, which is unusual, honestly, but they were little things. And they've all been unmitigated disasters."
Ginny gaped at her. "Oh no, what has he said?"
"Nothing!" Hermione shook her head. "He's... he's said nothing. In fact, he's acted absolutely, perfectly as I had asked him to. As though nothing had happened, but... oh, it's been all me. I have felt so strange around him!" She dropped her face into her hands once again. "What must he think of me?"
Ginny sighed and rubbed her back for a long while. "Honestly? Probably nothing. There's a very good chance that he did as you asked and forgot about the kiss. Or, if Pansy's right and he does fancy you, he's plotting."
Hermione jerked up, her eyes wide in horror. "Of course she isn't right! He... he's dating his neighbor, remember? And... he'd have said something, wouldn't he?"
Ginny shrugged. "Malfoy is a mystery. He's been over, you know. Loads of times. Just last week, for example. Harry invites him for dinner, then the two of them go outside. No idea what they get up to—I've tried to find out, believe me. One thing I do know is that they laugh a lot. The first time I heard it, I thought the world must have ended. I don't know why I'm saying all of this; I suppose it's just to say... I don't think you should presume anything about him. He doesn't strike me as someone who plays games; but, then again, he's a Slytherin, and if he did play games, he'd never show his cards." She paused in thought. "Actually, he'd never show his cards unless he thought he could win. Game or no game."
Hermione didn't think Ginny had said anything particularly helpful, but she did wish to hear Draco laugh the way she had described. "What do I do, Gin? How do I fix this? Every time, the awkwardness gets worse, and... I'm afraid I'm going to mess everything up! Oh, I wish I hadn't been so stupid as to kiss him!"
"There, there." Ginny patted her gently. "It will work itself out."
"Have I ruined our friendship, though? Do you think we can recover from this?"
Ginny held out a container of popcorn she'd been hiding. "I think so. It's not like the two of you snogged and now you both regret it. That would be much harder to work through. And thank Merlin you didn't sleep together. That's a death sentence for a friendship unless you both have underlying feelings for each other." Ginny gave her a very pointed look. "Of course, you have to talk to each other to sort that out."
"Maybe this will pass." Hermione sighed. "It's just, every time I see him, I picture him the way he was when I woke up. And... Gin, I want that. I want him. I haven't felt this way about someone in a very long time. Maybe I never have. I'd never been so close to him before, and I barely even remember it."
Neither spoke for a few minutes. Hermione let her eyes unfocus as she stared into the mesmerizing flames.
"You should tell him the truth."
"Must I?"
Ginny chuckled. "Yes, Hermione. If this keeps going on, if you can't get past it... you'll have to tell him."
Hermione didn't respond. She felt the truth of Ginny's proclamation, knew in her heart that it was inevitable, but she didn't feel ready—not even close.
ooo
Friday, 20 OCTOBER
Hermione jumped at the knock on her door. A glance at the clock told her that Viktor was five minutes early. Five minutes was usually completely acceptable, but she wasn't ready yet. At all. Oh, sure, her dress was on, her hair was done, her makeup was applied, and her accessories were in place. But she felt completely unsettled.
She'd be seeing Draco with Suzanne for the first time, and she was dreading it. Suzanne was different, somehow. From the little she'd seen, though only introduced in August, Suzanne was a perfectly lovely witch, someone who could appreciate Draco's good qualities without being weighed down by the baggage of the war and everything that came before it. Since Suzanne had grown up in America, despite being from Ireland, she hadn't been around for all of that, hadn't known Draco as anything other than the perfectly put together man he was now.
He must enjoy being around her, able to completely forget his past.
The knock came again, snatching Hermione from her thoughts. She sighed heavily, checked the mirror one last time, and went to the door.
"Viktor." She smiled at her friend, who looked rather dashing in his dress robes. "Thank you so much for joining me."
"Anytime, Hermione." He stepped inside and she quickly shut and locked the door behind him.
"I'm ready. The Portkey doesn't activate for another few minutes, though." She held out a large, brass key.
"Does the Malfoy Foundation always provide Portkeys for their guests?" He examined the key, turning it over and feeling the weight in his hands. "About three Snitches, I think."
She laughed. "Do you do that often? Compare things to the weight of a Snitch?"
He shrugged. "I have put my hand around more Snitches than I can count; I think I have a good feel for it. It amuses me to think of it."
"I'm glad. All right, it's nearly time."
Viktor held out his arm with a look of deep appreciation. "You look beautiful tonight, Hermione."
She took his arm, placing her other hand on the key. "Thank you! You're looking rather handsome as well. How is it that you're not married yet?"
He chuckled. "Haven't met the right woman, I suppose."
The Portkey activated then, and in a few seconds, they arrived in a large lobby. After depositing the used Portkey in an elaborately decorated box, Hermione indicated which way they should go. Viktor escorted her into the grand ballroom of the hotel, her breath catching as they entered. She'd been in the room only an hour before, but somehow, the ballroom had been completely transformed in that time. After a cursory glance around, her eyes wide with the wonder of it, Hermione spotted Narcissa, already deep in conversation with a small group of Ministry officials.
Her stomach flipped uncomfortably as she remembered that she'd be seeing her former employer before the night was over.
Viktor swept her into the room, and everyone they encountered was amazed and amused to see Hermione's date. He drew far more attention than she did—still the famous international Quidditch star and Most Valuable Player in the most recent World Cup—but she remained by his side, determined to throw herself into each moment and not think about Draco, who would certainly be arriving with Suzanne any moment, if he weren't already there.
The mingling lasted nearly an hour, and she was exhausted from all of the small talk. When they were finally called to their tables for dinner, she still hadn't set eyes on Draco. But there he was, near the front, his bright blond hair shining under all the lights. To her astonishment, Suzanne wasn't at his side. She quickly counted the people at his table and concluded that he'd escorted his mother to the event or, at the very least, he'd attended solo.
Her heart started pounding, but she had to remind herself that it didn't mean anything. They'd barely spoken two easy words to each other since she'd kissed him as September tipped over into October, and she didn't see any reason why that would change tonight.
Hermione and Viktor were seated at a table with Harry and Ginny, Neville and Hannah, and another couple she didn't know well, though the wife worked in the DMLE. Harry seemed to know her well, and the two of them talked easily.
Ginny leaned over to Hermione and whispered, "Any improvement?"
Hermione knew she was asking about her relationship with Draco. She shook her head. "It will just take time, I believe."
"I still really think you ought to talk to him. Just… be honest."
"No, I've told you, I can't do that." She smiled sadly at her friend, then tried to get lost in the conversation which, while composed of fewer people, was nonetheless exhausting. She realized only ten minutes into the meal that she wanted to go home. Being around so many Ministry employees, seeing her former boss at the table with the Head of Games and Sports, laughing and carrying on, was harder than she'd imagined it would be. She couldn't help but suspect they were laughing at her expense.
She was about to visit the loo, in an effort to escape some of the noise, when Narcissa stood from her place. Silence fell as she made her way to the podium, where she would deliver the news about this year's fundraising efforts. Her dress was a deep green that shimmered under the lights, the bodice fitted and the skirt flowing elegantly around her.
"Welcome, Mr. Minister, distinguished guests, and honored friends. This is the final Malfoy Foundation fundraiser for the year, and as you know, it's designated as the event where we try to help the Ministry out in some area of special need. In the past we've done various things for whatever department was in need. This year, our fundraising focus looks a little bit different, but we on the board believe it's just as important as all the previous efforts, if not more so." Narcissa took a breath and smiled serenely over the crowd.
"I'm sure you're all aware that the Malfoy Foundation is blessed to have Miss Hermione Granger as part of my personal team, and until very recently, she was one of your own."
Hermione forgot to breathe when her heart thudded to a halt, then started pounding in her chest. Her wide eyes stared at Narcissa, suddenly quite afraid of what the woman might say next.
"She was working very hard on a project to assist a colony of pixies, the largest one in England, from being ousted from their homes."
She couldn't help it; Hermione glanced at the table where her former boss and the Head of Games and Sports were sitting. They looked frozen, one in anger, the other in pure shock. Hermione shut her eyes and silently begged Narcissa not to do anything she'd regret.
"A new Quidditch stadium is scheduled to be built in the forest where the pixies currently live, and the construction will severely impact their habitat. Malfoy Foundation, under the direction of my son, has been searching all of the United Kingdom for a new home for the creatures. I'm thrilled to announce that we've found a plot of land that has everything the Pixie Queen desires in a new home, and we are raising funds in order to purchase the land and assist the colony in its relocation efforts."
Hermione let out her breath. She shouldn't have doubted that Narcissa would protect her, but she'd been so surprised her brain had practically shut down. Instead, the woman had managed to describe the problem without implicating anyone in the room and frame it in such a way that those responsible for the mess could then be involved in making right what they'd fought so hard to tear down. Her esteem for Narcissa grew, which she hadn't quite thought possible.
"The land is tucked nicely in the heart of Wales, and with a few modifications, will be the perfect home for the pixies. For those of you who have been following this story and have been concerned about the welfare of the pixie colony, you know how wonderful an opportunity it will be to provide these truly delightful creatures with a new home. You will be pleased to know they will be protected there and never again have to worry about their home being upset."
Narcissa continued talking for a few minutes, but Hermione tuned out the rest. She glanced at Draco and found him watching her; she instantly blushed a deep red. She held his gaze for a moment, however, feasting on the soft smile on his face—so different from the tension that had been building between them ever since the kiss.
She couldn't let herself stare for too long, though, and when the crowd laughed, she returned to listening to Narcissa. She was only saying that she hoped everyone enjoyed the dessert and dancing, and looked forward to speaking with the Pixie Queen the following day to tell her that the land purchase would be going forward.
Hermione chuckled, having no doubt that the woman would be sure to wrangle substantial donations from both her former boss and the department of Games and Sports. She only wished she could be a fly on the wall to observe Narcissa, who was a master at negotiating and encouraging people to donate far more than they'd intended.
When the dancing began, Hermione stood up once with Viktor, then wanted a drink of water. She'd been thinking all through the dance that this was Draco's doing. He had taken the problem before the board, argued for it, then took the lead in finding a new home for the pixies. And as much as she tried to reason it away, she couldn't help but think he had done it for her. After all, it had been her mission, her efforts over the past few months to have the stadium plan halted, and when that was no longer possible, he must have started researching alternatives. Her biggest regret was that she'd been so bloody awkward with him lately that he hadn't asked her to work with him. She'd done a bit of looking of her own since the Wizengamot ruled against her, but her heart hadn't been in it. She'd felt so demoralized that she couldn't conjure the motivation to press forward in her defeat.
She resolved to thank him, that was simply all there was to it. Hermione finished her water, then searched the room for the shock of white blond hair. She spotted him in conversation with three senior Ministry officials, and she took a deep breath, willed her hands to stop shaking, and started across the room toward him. Halfway there, a waiter crossed her path with glasses of wine on a tray. Hermione stopped him, took a glass with a smile, then downed it and returned the glass to the tray. The thought of another flitted through her mind, but she remembered what had happened the last time she'd had too much to drink and then went in search of Draco. She nodded to the waiter and continued toward Draco.
As she neared him, one of the officials was drawn into another conversation, and then a second walked away, leaving Draco alone with Roberts from International Magical Cooperation. She entered their space and found them in a deep discussion, so she stopped near Draco but not close enough to interrupt or intrude while still making her presence known.
"Ah, here's Miss Granger!" boomed the other man. "It's a shame what happened. I don't think you'll be away from us for too long."
"You're very kind, Mr. Roberts. I do miss working."
"Malfoy and I were just debating the merits of importing certain magical items versus attempting to create our own. Would you like to jump in?" He grinned good-naturedly. "He's got some good points, but I think he might need some assistance."
Hermione blushed, knowing full well that Draco needed absolutely no help in a friendly argument. "That sounds fascinating, but I'm afraid I must decline and further apologize, Mr. Roberts. I need a word with Draco, if you don't mind."
"Of course! Something to do with the fundraising, I'm sure." He clapped Draco on the shoulder. "We'll have to continue this next time you're near my office, Malfoy!"
Draco smiled politely. "Next time I'm on the 5th floor, I'll be sure to stop by."
Roberts walked away, and Hermione felt the nerves in her middle fire anxiously. She turned and fully faced Draco, her eyes meeting his for the first time since that night in his library—not counting the long distance gaze from earlier.
Her stomach flipped even more frantically, and her palms started to feel clammy.
Would she ever be able to look him in the eye again without having this reaction?
"What did you need?" Draco asked in a clipped tone.
His shortness reminded her why she was there, and she shook her head slightly to clear the fog. "I was hoping you'd dance with me, actually."
His eyes widened in surprise. "Dance?"
"Yes. We haven't danced at one of these things in a while"
Draco frowned slightly and fidgeted with one of his cufflinks. But then he gave her a tight smile. "I'd like that." Ever the consummate gentleman, his good breeding took over, and he guided Hermione to the dance floor. One song was ending, and they joined about twenty couples around them. They stood facing each other, and Draco put one hand on her waist. She held her hand out to him, and he took it, their eyes locked together while they waited for another song to start.
The first note of the violin began, and, right on cue, Draco swept her into the dance. She'd seen him dance at plenty of functions, and while she'd always thought he was excellent, he'd never seemed to enjoy it. He was graceful but stiff with her, and she knew it was all because of the strange tension between them.
After a few minutes of silence, she summoned all her courage to say what she'd come to say. "Draco, I can't believe what you did for me."
His eyes, which had been directed over her shoulder, snapped to meet hers. "For you?"
She blushed, hoping she hadn't made yet another terrible blunder. "Yes! The pixie relocation efforts! You can't expect me to believe that the idea came out of nowhere."
"Ah. Yes. Of course."
With a pleasant warmth from the earlier glass of wine flowing through her veins, Hermione pressed on before it failed her. "It was extremely generous and kind of you, especially considering I've been completely awful to you these past few weeks."
"I'm not sure awful is quite the right word." He still felt awkward and stiff. She thought she might cry.
She missed him, missed the ease of their friendship, their natural way of being together.
"No, it's not nearly strong enough. I asked you to pretend that that… kiss never happened, and you agreed and carried yourself perfectly in line with your word. The problem is, I can't let it go. I'm well aware that I am the problem here, Draco, and I just hate it. I'm so sorry for how I've treated you. It wasn't fair for me to ask you to do something I couldn't do myself. Pretend it didn't happen, I mean. When I was around you, I felt so embarrassed. Even now, just coming to talk to you, I was so nervous." She grimaced, thankful it was dark enough to hide her blush.
His expression softened, but he seemed to peer at her. "You were embarrassed?"
"Yes! You're my… my friend, and you're dating someone, and... I don't know what I was thinking."
He looked away, quiet for a few strains. When he glanced back at her, he forced a smile, his eyes tight and closed. "All right."
He didn't speak again, content, it seemed, to lead her through the dance until the end, and she had no doubt he would not ask for a repeat. But she didn't want him to go. Now that she was here, in his arms, she wondered how they could possibly get back to where they'd been before her foolhardy act.
"Is that all?" The words left her lips before she checked herself, so soft she wondered if he even heard her.
But his gaze flitted to her, his brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"
"Is there nothing else the matter?" Tears smarted. "Why does it feel like nothing will be the same?"
He shook his head, and she sensed his frustration. "I shouldn't wonder, I should let it go, but I find myself unable to. At least, not in the short time since you said it, and maybe this is a mistake to ask, but can you tell me why you were embarrassed? Nobody saw it, and I would never tell a soul." There was a note of pleading in his tone, barely there.
"It wasn't that kind of embarrassment. I didn't know how I could face you again, truly face you. What must you have thought of me? I showed up on your doorstep, drunk, which I don't normally do, with all kinds of accusatory questions that only made sense in my addled mind. You took me in, and you were a true friend through it all. You gave me some sobering potion, though it wasn't quite enough to fully do the job. You talked to me, listened to me, then I kept drinking more because I was so distraught over the case. Finally, I was so pissed that I decided I should kiss you, then I fell asleep. Out cold. On top of you. I've watched my memory, and it was completely out of the blue. You didn't ask for any of it, you made no indication that you wanted me to kiss you, and moreover, rather than apologize right then or even begin to process what had happened, I fell asleep." She shook her head, feeling the shame anew.
"I see." He was frowning deeply, distracted enough to miss a step, which caused her to overcompensate and grab his arm to keep from stumbling. He quickly corrected, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her close to keep her upright.
It happened so quickly.
He cleared his throat, something raw and unfettered in his eyes. His eyes searched hers for a beat, then he stepped back and resumed the proper posture for their waltz. "Forgive me."
Hermione swallowed hard, her body aching at the loss of contact, however brief it had been.
When it seemed he had no intention of speaking, she felt a little desperate.
Would he say nothing? Would this rift between them remain? Was he content to let their friendship fail over one, tiny, ill-fated kiss? A kiss that could barely even be called a kiss?
"Are you very upset with me?" Her words were barely above a whisper.
Something in his gaze softened before he sighed. The song was heading toward its conclusion, and somehow she felt like this was the end. Their connection, which she valued so highly, would end. Maybe not instantly, but this was the beginning of that end. Tears threatened once more.
A long moment passed as they continued going through the motions.
"I was upset, to be honest. When I woke to discover you gone, I searched the entire house, finally thinking to ask if any elves knew where you were. Pippi informed me you'd been ill and gone home, so I didn't think much of it. When I got your note—" His jaw clenched and his gaze hardened. "I'll admit I was angry. I wanted to respect your wishes, but…"
He looked at her then, his expression torn, and her breath caught in her throat. She was grateful for his presence, else her knees might have failed her, so full of anticipation was she in that moment. The final chords of the melody trailed into their final decrescendo, and Draco sighed.
"I was angry, Hermione, because if that was to be the only kiss between us, I couldn't bear the thought that I had played no part in it."
As the notes of the violins faded, the pounding of her heart was so intense that she feared it might burst at any second. "What?"
He released her and stepped back, his body so tense that she worried he would snap. "Thank you for the dance." He spun on his heel and walked away.
She called to him and tried to follow, but he had disappeared so completely that he might have become invisible.
ooo
Twenty minutes later, she still hadn't seen him, but it wasn't for lack of trying. She'd asked everyone she encountered if they'd seen him, and the answer was often the same: she had just missed him. Finally, desperate to speak with him again, she went to Narcissa.
"Oh, Draco?" Narcissa gazed around the room, searching for her only son. "I haven't seen him since I watched you two dance." Her eyes sparkled. "If I see him, I'll let him know you're looking for him."
Hermione nodded, biting her lip. "He might have left."
"That would surprise me, considering he's been highly sought after all evening, thanks to his work." She beamed. "What did you think? I know we did a cruel thing, keeping the big surprise from you two events in a row, but Draco insisted."
"It was wonderful, Narcissa, truly. I'm very pleased. But forgive me for rushing off, I simply must find him. Our conversation was interrupted, and I really need to say something to him."
"Of course, dear. The last I saw of him, he was speaking to Elias Torburry from the Muggle Relations Office. Good luck." Narcissa gave her arm a little squeeze.
As soon as Hermione stepped away, Narcissa was surrounded by Ministry officials once more. Hermione didn't know how she managed to stay so calm and cordial with every person in the room who wished to speak with her. She had a feeling that if she were in Narcissa's position, she wouldn't be so patient.
After another turn around the room, Hermione huffed in frustration. It was as though he were avoiding her—which, if he meant what she couldn't quite let herself dare to hope he meant—she understood.
But he needed to know the whole truth, and she wouldn't rest until they'd finished what they'd started. She stopped and looked toward the food table in front of her, and then her own thought from mere moments before came roaring back: he was avoiding her.
She quickly spun on her heel, gazing everywhere she'd just been, and grinned in triumph when she spotted a flash of his hair as he ducked behind a door. Excellent. Without taking her eyes off the doorway, she made a beeline for him.
To her astonishment, the door he'd disappeared through led onto a very small balcony, only as wide and deep as the French doors that opened onto it. Draco turned around, startled, and the doors closed behind her.
They were completely alone.
"Draco—"
He held up a hand. "No, Hermione, if I may. There's something I need to tell you."
She bit her lip but decided not to argue. "All right."
"Merlin, this place is small." He seemed frantic, glancing quickly around as though he were considering jumping over the railing into the garden below.
Hermione pulled out her wand and with a few flicks, the area had expanded. She'd also Conjured a few benches, feeling grateful for the extra room as well.
He shot her an appreciative look and began pacing. "You thanked me for tonight. Earlier. When we were dancing. But I have to be honest. I did all of this—I started looking for somewhere new for the pixies to live—because I was stubborn and angry with you, and I wanted to show you that you'd made a mistake by not listening to me."
"What?" She felt like she'd been slapped. His words were a far cry from what she'd dared to hope he would say.
"My frustration with you had been building since July, when you repeatedly refused my help." He shot her a pleading look as she opened her mouth. "Please, I'm not here to argue about that. I was an arse. I was so puffed up about my success with Hogwarts that I thought you were absurd not to let me help. It grated on my nerves, even while I tried to push those feelings away. I played the part of your friend, but I wasn't acting like one."
Hermione crossed to the nearest bench and sat down, slowly shaking her head. She chuckled wryly. "Oh."
Draco approached her, his expression wrecked. He seemed to want to comfort her, but then thought better of it and returned to pacing. "I threw my name and my money at the problem and I succeeded, but it was bittersweet. I wanted to show you that I'd been right, that you should have listened to me after all. My first thought was to buy the land myself, but by that point, we'd made up, and the bite behind my actions was gone. I thought to put the land in your name, but I couldn't do that without telling you first. When I told my mother everything, she suggested having the Foundation purchase the land and holding it in a trust."
He paused and looked at her, as though waiting for her to storm away. When she didn't, when she held his gaze steady, he approached her hesitantly, coming so close she had to look up to see his eyes. Then he knelt on the ground, unconcerned for what she knew had to be his very expensive trousers.
"I learned a few things about myself, things I'm not proud of. I realized that it was selfish of me to think that you should have come to me, let me help you, as though I alone could solve your problems. I also recognized that I am a prideful man. I didn't like that you spurned my assistance, and I wanted to prove you wrong." He shut his eyes tight and shook his head. "But my success with the land felt nothing like the success with Hogwarts, and it took me a while to figure out why. It was my selfishness, my pride. When I realized those were my underlying motivations for doing what I was doing, it soured me completely on the success of finding somewhere for the pixies to move. I wanted to tell you, to come clean, but I was afraid you'd hate me—I know how important motivation is for you—and then you kissed me and everything went to shit and—"
"Draco." Hermione put a finger on his lips, and he stilled instantly. She smiled slightly. Her thoughts were spinning at his confession, and while she appreciated it, she mainly just wanted to know what he'd meant earlier. "It sounds like you've been beating yourself up about it plenty for both of us. Thank you for what you did. I'm sure your motivations weren't strictly self-serving."
He stood and went to the railing near the bench, looking out over the dark grounds. "You thanked me for doing this for you." He met her eyes over his shoulder. "I did."
Hermione rose and joined him at the railing. She intentionally put herself closer to him than she'd ever done before, and just that little act of boldness set her nerves on edge. "Thank you, Draco. Pride, selfishness, and all."
Draco turned so he was facing her, but the action put more distance between them.
She frowned slightly and leaned toward him; he didn't move. Emboldened, she stepped in farther, her hand trailing on the wide stone rail. She watched the path of her fingers until she stopped short, close enough to his hand that she could feel his warmth. With her eyes still on her hand, she hesitantly, cautiously, reached out and placed her fingers on his.
The touch was the most intimate she'd ever been with him, conscious at least, and she felt her heart skip and her breath hitch. Fire shot through her nerves where they touched, and she thrilled at the mere thought of threading her fingers through his.
He was breathing heavily beside her, and something about it made her remember Suzanne. She froze and pulled her hand away. Oh, how could she have been so stupid! Tears sprang to her eyes and she made to step away. "I'm so sorry!"
Draco didn't hesitate. His hand shot out, lightning quick, and he grabbed her wrist to keep her from fleeing. "What? Why?" His voice was thick, scratchy, as though he hadn't spoken in a very long time.
"Suzanne! It completely slipped my mind. I… I should go, I should—"
His grip tightened, not enough to hurt but enough to let her know that he didn't plan on letting her get away. "There's nothing. That's… that was never anything much, merely… an attempt…"
Hermione dared to look him in the eye, and when she did, her breath caught. His expression was intense, his eyes flashing, that unfettered something threatening to spill over. "Draco…" Her voice was merely a whisper, and she couldn't help but look at his lips.
With a gentle tug, he pulled her closer, pausing to see what she would do. When she leaned forward, he brought her all the way to him, releasing her and in the same motion, bringing his hand up to her face. Hesitantly, almost reverently, his shaking hand touched her cheek with the tip of a finger, then lightly traced the line of her jaw until his fingers neared her mouth. Then he pressed the pad of his thumb to her lips, dragging her lower lip down with a slight pull. He then drew his thumb back up her jawline until his fingers ghosted her neck. He began to lightly rub his thumb against her cheek, and then he turned his gaze back to her eyes.
"Draco…" It came out a whisper but it was also a wish.
He wrapped his fingers behind her neck more firmly, using them to apply just the right pressure to tip her head up. When he lowered his lips to hers, Hermione let out a shuddering breath just before he kissed her.
It was the most intense thing she'd ever felt in her life, and her legs wobbled—all from the pressure of his mouth on hers. She brought her hands up to touch his face, scarcely able to believe that this was real.
As soon as the tips of her fingers touched his skin, he started moving, kissing her deliberately, delicately, a heated battle between too much and never enough. Hermione returned his kiss with equal fervor, moaning softly when he nipped her bottom lip. Draco deepened the kiss, wrapping his arms around her, his hands hot on the cool, bare skin of her back. All the while he kissed her, his thumb was in constant motion, dancing on her skin with feather-light brushes, making her shiver in the most delightful way.
Soon the kiss turned so heated that he broke away and began trailing kisses down her neck. Hermione gasped as his hands splayed flat on her back, as though he were desperate to touch as much of her as possible. Hermione discovered that her hands were threaded through his hair, and when he nipped at a particularly sensitive spot behind her ear, she clenched her fist, drawing a low grunt from him.
"Oh! Sorry!"
He pulled back, his breathing ragged, his eyes wild in a way she'd never seen before. He looked like he was ready to drown in her, and Hermione had to force herself to keep breathing.
Draco swallowed hard. "Don't be. Please don't be sorry."
They stood there like that, his hands still hot on her back, her fingers twisted in his hair, their faces nearly touching. But he didn't kiss her again, instead, he closed his eyes and resumed his gentle caress on her back. Sweet Merlin, Morgana, and Circe, if he kept that up, she didn't know what she would do. Every brush of his thumb shot straight to her core, every whisper of breath on her still-moist lips made her shudder.
Finally, his hands moved again, up her back to her shoulders, trailing down her arms until he reached her hands. Taking them in his own, he kissed her knuckles, his eyes on fire with unabashed desire. Just when she thought her knees would surely buckle, he pressed into her space again to kiss her forehead. His lips lingered there, his breath tickling the fine hairs that had escaped her elegant updo. The smell of him, the feel of him, was intoxicating, and she wished she could exist forever in that moment.
There was nothing beyond him, beyond them, the entire universe condensed to this single stretch of minutes.
A very loud crash from inside snapped them out of their trance. Hermione shook her head as though dazed, then glanced toward the door. She had no idea what time it was or how long they'd stood like that, but in all probability, the evening was nearing its end. She should help Narcissa, be there to do whatever she could, but her feet remained firmly planted, and eventually, she turned back around.
Draco's expression was so intense her heart skipped again. "Don't go."
She blew out a long, shaky breath. "I, um. I came after you so that we could talk."
"What about?" He seemed determined not to move until he had to and instead dipped his head to kiss along her jaw.
Hermione swallowed hard, automatically reaching up to grab and hold his arms in place—not that he gave any indication of wanting to pull away any time soon. "The, uh, what you said earlier. About… about that being our only kiss."
He gave a low chuckle that snaked straight down her spine. "I remember."
"I just wanted to say that… I didn't want it to be our only kiss."
"Hmm." He returned to the spot behind her ear that had made her gasp earlier and began paying special attention to it.
Hermione whimpered and sighed, tilting her head to give him better access as her eyes fluttered closed. Was this really happening? It felt like something out of a dream, and for a moment, she worried that she'd wake up to find that she'd passed out on the dinner table, her head in a plate of Yorkshire pudding.
But then Draco was kissing her again and all thoughts flew away. How was it possible to be so affected, so weak-kneed, when all they'd done was kiss? Granted, it was a very intense, breathtaking kiss, but she was burning for him so hotly that she wasn't sure she could survive anything more.
Another loud noise from inside made her jump, and Draco chuckled, pulling away with a final tug on her lower lip.
"I suppose Mother might be wondering where we are."
Hermione could barely think or speak, but she focused on taking several steadying breaths. They hadn't moved an inch apart, only the kiss had stopped. She was still in his embrace, one of her arms around his neck, his around her waist, and she mentally cursed the inevitable passing of time which dictated that, at some point, they would be forced to end this.
She cleared her throat and stepped back. "Yes. Right. You're right. And—" Her eyes widened. "Oh! Viktor! I should… say goodnight to him."
Draco scowled. "Ah, yes. Your date."
Hermione was stunned by the vehemence in his tone. She met his eyes and smiled. "Yes, Viktor is a very old friend. I didn't want to show up alone and he agreed to escort me."
"I'm sure he did. I doubt very much he ever says no to you."
She laughed lightly. "Why, Draco, are you jealous?"
His expression was dark for a moment, but it cleared and he smirked, bringing his hand up once more to brush her lips with his thumb. "I think I've gotten over it."
Hermione shivered at his touch. Her mind was stuck, completely frozen in this place, but she knew that as soon as this—whatever it was—ended, her thoughts would spin. For now, though, she was perfectly content. "We should go. I'm going inside first to find Viktor. Wait at least five minutes before you follow?"
Draco nodded. Hermione turned to go, but he reached for her hand just as she was walking away. She looked back at him, and he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles once more. Then he sighed and let her go, as though he, too, were afraid that everything would change once they parted.
Hermione smiled at him, then returned to the ballroom. The bright lights assaulted her eyes and she squinted a moment, trying to get her bearings. Things were certainly winding down, and many of the guests had already left. Narcissa was by the door, saying goodbye to everyone. She started in that direction and was midway across the large room when she heard someone call her name.
She turned to see Viktor rushing toward her, and she wondered briefly if she looked like she'd just had the best kiss of her entire life. "Viktor." She smiled as he came near.
"Where have you been? I've been a little worried."
"Oh, I'm fine, I just stepped out for some air." Never mind that Draco had rendered her completely breathless.
He looked concerned, his eyes taking her in. "Are you feeling alright? You look a bit warm. Perhaps I should get you home."
"That's very kind, but I'll be staying to help Narcissa."
He frowned. "Help Narcissa? What does she need help with? She's got plenty of people who can help her."
Hermione's smile widened. "Viktor, really. I'm fine. I came to say goodnight to you, as I'm sure you'd like to get home, and there's no telling how long I'll be here."
Viktor glanced around at the sparse group of guests that remained. "It won't take too long. I will stay with you, that is my duty."
Of course, the one time she desperately wanted her date to leave her at a party, he refused. But Viktor had always been a perfect gentleman, and he was one of the most stubborn people she knew, so there was no point in trying to dissuade him. "All right. Let me go and see what Narcissa needs."
He nodded eagerly, and Hermione resumed her path. She arrived by Narcissa's side just as the hostess had finished bidding goodnight to the Minister of Magic himself.
"Oh, Hermione! There you are. I wanted to tell you that everything is quite in order, if you'd like to go. Viktor has been looking for you." She shook hands with another couple and waved them out the door.
"He found me. Are you sure there's nothing I can help you with?"
Narcissa shook her head. "Draco is here. And there's very little to do. Thank you again, my dear. Tonight was beautiful."
"How did the fundraising go? Are you close to having enough for the land?" Hermione joined with Narcissa in bidding the guests goodnight.
"Very close. Shouldn't be too long before we reach the goal. I thought you'd be interested to learn that your former boss made a very sizable donation." She smirked, her eyes twinkling.
"I'm glad. It was always my impression that he knew what was right but gave in to outside pressure anyway. He did seem genuinely sorry that I didn't win. Perhaps he had a change of heart." She shrugged.
Narcissa hummed thoughtfully. "He always struck me as someone who wanted to do right but had a weak will. You could be right. Maybe his donation was a way for him to ease his conscience."
Hermione pursed her lips. "I hate to say it, but I think that's a very poor reason. He can't really expect to simply give a lot of money in the hopes that all will be forgiven."
"Oh, Hermione, dear." Narcissa's smile was somewhat sad. "Sometimes that's all we can do when we know that we made terrible, impossible choices that caused irreparable harm."
Hermione's eyes went wide. "No, Narcissa! I wasn't speaking of you! I only meant—"
"Think nothing of it. I knew exactly what you meant. I only offered my perspective as someone who understands more than most about being stuck between a rock and a hard place." Narcissa gazed fondly over the dwindling crowd. "I've also come to understand the power of forgiveness, and there's no telling what his contribution, spurred by guilt, perhaps, might wrought in his heart."
Tears pricked Hermione's eyes. "Oh, Narcissa. You are so generous, and not only with your time and resources. I cannot thank you enough for everything you've done, tonight and in all the years I've known you."
Narcissa's smile brightened. "It's been my pleasure and the true joy of my life."
"I'm honored to be a small part of what you do." Hermione tried to stifle a yawn. "Oh my. I think I'm ready for a good night's sleep! Thank you, again, for tonight and for your work with the pixies."
Narcissa held out her arms and gave Hermione a quick hug. "My dear, I would do almost anything for you." Then she seemed to really look at Hermione for the first time. "Are you feeling alright? You seem flushed, and your eyes are bright. I do hope you're not getting sick."
Hermione felt her cheeks flush redder at Narcissa's appraisal. Despite her logical mind telling her there was no way the other woman could know that she'd just spent a long time snogging her son, she still felt transparent in her delight. "I'm probably just tired. It feels as though I'm still making up for sleep I missed in September. Thank you, again, for everything. Good night."
"Good night, dear. I do hope you get some sleep."
She wondered if Narcissa's good will would extend to her kissing Draco, but she didn't have to think about that tonight. Hermione collected Viktor and left, disappointed that she hadn't seen Draco again. Viktor left her at her door, and Hermione rushed inside, anxious to be alone with her thoughts. She shut the door and slumped against it, finally able to give her mind free reign over what had happened.
A yawn startled her, however, and she felt suddenly exhausted. She decided to get ready for bed and then think of Draco while she fell asleep. But the minute her head hit the pillow, she was already gone.
ooo
Saturday, OCTOBER 21
She opened her handbag and tipped the contents onto the floor. Hermione wasn't running late, but she was still anxious to find her favorite paintbrush. If someone had told her before she'd joined her art class that she'd ever have a favorite paintbrush, she'd have enjoyed a good laugh.
It was nearly quarter after eight, and she was trying to get out the door in order to grab breakfast before meeting with her art class.
She'd had a fabulous night's sleep and awoken at half seven with a smile, stretching luxuriously in her nice, warm bed. She'd touched her fingers to her lips, thinking that less than twelve hours ago, Draco had done the same thing.
But despite feeling refreshed and completely giddy over everything—humming in the shower, and smiling without thinking about it—the morning had gone downhill fast.
When she'd tried to read the morning paper, she'd found that she couldn't concentrate. All she wanted to do was relive the previous night in her mind. And while the kiss had been transcendent, it had only been a kiss. There had been no discussion, no talk of what it meant, absolutely nothing to suggest there would be occasion for a repeat. Her gut told her that it wasn't a one-time thing, but the truth was, she didn't really know what would happen next. He'd said that he wasn't with Suzanne, and she'd wanted to know more, but that was practically the last coherent thought she'd had before he touched her.
Then she'd tried to make breakfast but her thoughts kept distracting her. She'd burned her toast and dropped a glass of juice before finally deciding to get something in Diagon Alley instead. From there, she would head to her art class. Dressed in her most paint-splattered shirt and a pair of old denims, she hastily pulled her hair up in a careless bun to keep it out of her face—she certainly didn't care how she looked. Then she'd grabbed her bag with her paint supplies in it and was about to walk out the door when she remembered she'd taken the brush out of the bag in order to use it. Thus began a great search of her flat to find the brush.
After looking all over the flat for the missing brush, she finally decided to check her bag one more time, groaning when she found the brush there after all, though not in the place she normally put it. She shook her head with a laugh and returned everything to the bag. It simply wasn't her morning, but then, her thoughts weren't cooperating as they had a tendency to want to focus on the night before, on the fact that she and Draco had most definitely kissed. He had wanted to kiss her!
Her cheeks flushed at the thought, then she shook her head. No. She needed to get going so she wouldn't be late to her class.
Hermione grabbed her art bag and flung the door open. The sight that greeted her, however, made her stop in her tracks.
"Draco?"
He was standing just outside her door with his arm raised, as though he'd been about to knock.
He blinked in surprise, his eyes darting over her quickly. "Er, yes. Good morning."
Hermione's heart was now racing, and she cringed inwardly at her attire. Naturally, he looked as impeccably dressed as ever, which made her feel even worse. It was a Saturday, the day after a very fancy fundraiser, so why couldn't he look at least somewhat disheveled? It wasn't fair.
"What are you doing here?"
He shoved his hands into his pockets. "Well, I thought I should stop by, catch you before you tried to send any owls."
It took three seconds for her to grasp the reference; she blushed. "Oh… well, I wasn't planning on sending any owls this morning."
To the casual observer, the exchange might have sounded benign, even slightly bizarre, but for them, it was a moment of truth, each confessing something.
He visibly relaxed and shifted his weight. "That's good to hear." He glanced down at her bag. "But I can see that you're leaving."
"Yes! My art class meets at ten. We don't normally get together on Saturdays, but we're putting on a little show the first weekend in November, and since it's only two weeks away, everyone wanted some extra time in the studio."
He arched an eyebrow. "An art show?"
She shrugged, feeling a little silly. "It's nothing big, of course. Just a small gathering to show each other what we've been doing over the year. I joined the class late, but I still have some things I want to showcase."
"May I come?"
"You… want to come to my art class's show?"
"I appreciate art." He smirked, brushing his fringe away from his face.
"I don't know that I'd call it art." She smiled sheepishly.
Draco checked his watch. "It's a good bit before ten, though."
"Right. I… burned my toast, so I thought I'd grab something to eat on my way." They looked at each other for a heartbeat. "Would you like to join me?"
He instantly brightened. "Yeah, all right. I haven't eaten since dinner last night."
Hermione fully exited her flat and closed and locked the door behind her. After adjusting her bag, she started down the hall to the stairs that would take her down to Diagon Alley. She enjoyed living in the busy wizarding area, loved being a few steps from all her favorite shops.
Draco kept his hands firmly in his pockets, returning them after holding open the door for her to exit her building. She tried not to overthink that, but the truth was, she had no idea where they stood. He didn't wait but started down the street, so Hermione followed him. The street was busy with the beginnings of the day: merchants opening and setting wares outside, the delicious smells of food wafting down the street. They walked for a few minutes without speaking, Hermione's nerves growing tighter and tighter with every step.
Finally, she couldn't stand it. "Was your only reason for stopping by to intercept my owl post?"
He seemed almost surprised that she'd addressed him, frowning slightly to himself. "Oh. Well, no. I thought we should talk. About… last night."
Fear clenched inside her because surely he must regret it and that's why he showed up at her flat at a little after eight. He needed to tell her as soon as possible that it had been a mistake. "You wish it hadn't happened?"
Draco stopped abruptly, his eyes looking at her sharply. "What? No. Merlin, no." Then his voice was hesitant. "Do you?"
She let out a rushed breath. "No." He nodded and resumed walking. Hermione tried to keep up with him, but he seemed to be in a hurry. "Where are you going?"
"Nowhere, I'm just… going. Nervous energy. I'm sorry." He stopped and stepped out of the general flow of people. "How about that little French bakery around the corner up ahead? They sell my favorite breakfast."
Hermione smiled. "Sure."
After another few steps, Draco sighed. "I thought this would be easy, but the truth is, I don't know what to say. I've thought about it all night—I nearly came over last night, but thought I should wait—and I had this whole speech prepared, but then as soon as I was outside your flat, everything disappeared. I must have stood there for a solid five minutes before you opened the door. I'd almost knocked three times before that, too."
"Oh, I see." She frowned slightly. "And you're not sorry it happened?"
They were ten yards from the restaurant, but he stopped again, taking hold of her arm so that she looked into his eyes. "No. I could never be sorry about it. You've no idea, you—" He dragged a hand through his hair, his gaze unfocused, scattered. "That was the best thing I've ever experienced in my life. I'm still high from it." The grin he gave her was tentative. "As I said, my thoughts have been so jumbled, it's a wonder I can string a sentence together right now. Maybe food will help."
He slid his hand down her arm until he reached her hand, then he hesitantly, carefully twined his fingers with hers. When she made no attempt to pull away, his lips quirked, and he tugged her along, resuming their walk to the restaurant. Hermione's heart was pounding furiously again, and all he'd done was hold her hand.
Draco spoke to the hostess and asked for their most private table. They were led to a spot in the corner and given menus. Neither of them spent much time with them, though, as they both knew what they wanted. Once they'd placed their orders, the awkwardness returned.
Hermione couldn't stand it any longer. "What was the final total last night?"
He let out a breath. "For the fundraiser?"
"Of course. When I left, your Mother said you were close."
Draco shrugged. "I know that I should care about that—and I do, really, but it's hard when all I can think about—no exaggeration—is that somehow, for some reason, you let me kiss you last night."
She felt heat creep across her cheeks. "Yes, um, well—"
"And I know you don't have long this morning." He sighed deeply. "Neither do I. I've got to meet Harry. We're supposed to be planning a stakeout for a case. It's our turn for one, since I was out for so long. But… I felt that I had to see you first. I'm sure a large part of it was me being slightly terrified that you would regret it."
"No." It came out a whisper, though not because she was afraid to say the word. It simply felt too important to speak casually. But then, in case he hadn't heard, she repeated herself. "No, I don't regret it, Draco." Their eyes met, and she saw hope in his. "You called him Harry, by the way." She couldn't remember many times he'd done that, and never so easily or calmly.
"Did I?" He smirked.
Their food arrived, and Hermione set about preparing her tea. "What did you want to talk to me about?"
Draco chuckled. "Everything. Why last night happened. What's next? What did it mean? Everything. How did we go from you barely tolerating my presence to… that… in the space of, what, fifteen minutes?"
"What do you mean, barely tolerating your presence?" She was surprised at his phrasing. "Are you referring to me being horribly awkward around you all of this month after kissing you? I thought what happened would be unwelcome. I thought it would be a simple matter of ignoring what had happened, but the truth was, I felt so nervous around you because I could no longer pretend. Even though I'd had too much to drink, even though it was very brief, I couldn't stop thinking about what it felt like to be so close to you, and I wasn't sure I could ever forget it. It was fixed in my mind, whether I was in your presence or not."
Draco's eyes were on her, deep emotion evident in his gaze. He swallowed hard. "I had no idea you were struggling so hard. I suppose pretending I didn't care for you beyond friendship had become second-nature to me. Nevertheless, I assure you I never once suspected the true source of your difficulties. Though I did wonder."
She sighed. "I also thought you'd be upset with me. After all, you were still seeing Suzanne."
Draco shrugged, slicing his waffle, though his eyes remained intense. "Technically I was, but I ended it that day."
Hermione's jaw dropped. "You did?"
"After I kissed her, which I'd told you about, I ended up asking her out. Mainly because… I don't know, you seemed uninterested, which I'd grown accustomed to, and I needed something to take my mind off you. We went on two dates, but... It was never anything significant. More or less... a diversion. Or a distraction. I'm not terribly sure, really. But I broke it off, whatever it was, after you kissed me."
She scoffed. "I'd hardly call that a kiss."
"No." Draco grinned. "Not a proper kiss. But we corrected that last night."
Now she blushed. "Yes, quite. I felt awful when I remembered her, though, thinking you were still seeing her."
"As I said, I ended it the day you kissed me. Or, technically, the next day. When I woke up and you were gone, Pippi told me you'd been sick, so I didn't go to your flat. Instead, I went to Hogsmeade and told Suzanne I wouldn't be seeing her anymore. Then I got your owl." He gave her a pointed look.
"Oh, should I have sent it sooner? Then you wouldn't have ended things with Suzanne." She tried to sound like she was teasing, but she was unable to keep a hint of doubt out of her voice.
Draco scoffed lightly. "Haven't you been listening? Owl or no, after that night, I was determined to do whatever I had to do to make it happen again."
Hermione gaped at him for a moment. "That pathetic excuse for a kiss?"
He shook his head, his eyes a storm of emotion. "It wasn't just that. Yes, you'd briefly pressed your lips to mine, but after that, you fell asleep on me. I didn't dare move for fear you'd run away, but after a while, I realized you weren't going anywhere. I put my arms around you, I felt your chest rise and fall, heard your steady breathing. Unable to move, I watched you sleep until I couldn't keep my eyes open anymore. But having you in my arms, so close like that... Nothing could stop me from trying to make it real." He chuckled. "Thinking back, I supposed I lied when I agreed to forget about what had happened. I was actually determined to do quite the opposite and not rest until I showed you that I was good for you, until I could make you see me."
Hermione swallowed hard, her head spinning. "But… I thought… if you'd ever had feelings for me, that they were long over. Pansy said—"
"What did she say?" His tone was sharp, his eyes flashing.
"In February, she said she thought you and I would make a good match, and then… oh, it must have been July, she said she thought you liked me." He opened his mouth to speak but she held up her hand. "I insisted she was wrong because you'd been distancing yourself from me for months by then!"
"Because you'd made it very clear that you weren't interested! You were dating Marcus, what was I supposed to do?"
She let her jaw drop. "Oh, I don't know, how about you talk to me? You never once indicated any sort of feelings for me; was I supposed to read your thoughts? After Pansy's comments in February, I looked and didn't see anything to suggest she'd been right."
He clenched his jaw and bit out a response. "I asked you out!"
Hermione's eyes flew wide and she barked a laugh. "What? Where was I? I think I'd have remembered—"
"January's fundraiser! The one you backed out of but then showed up at my flat anyway, ready to go. It was clear, however, from everything you said that you didn't realize I'd asked you out—"
"Because you didn't! You said, and I quote, 'Maybe we could go together!' That's hardly the way you ask someone on a date!" She cringed slightly, realizing that their voices were slightly raised. A quick glance around them showed nobody seemed to be paying much attention. But her heart was pounding, her blood racing, and she was breathing heavily over the ridiculous argument they were having.
Draco was staring at her, though, in a way that made her cheeks flush. "Merlin, you're beautiful."
She was caught off guard at his seemingly easy compliment, but then, he'd said as much to her in the past—though she'd never taken it to heart. The way he said it now was… the same, yet very different.
He dragged a hand through his hair and regarded her with clear admiration. "Perhaps I was… hesitant to put my true intentions before you. No one has ever accused me of being especially brave. It's possible I might have worded my request in such a way that, should you not reciprocate my feelings, I could escape with my pride—and our friendship—intact."
Hermione shook her head, feeling her pulse begin to settle. "I had no idea, Draco. I thought you only wanted me to go with you to further the Foundation's efforts."
He sighed heavily. "I know. But when you told me you couldn't attend with me, I lost any kind of confidence I had managed to muster. I figured I had my answer, that you thinking of me in that way was so far removed from reality that there was no point in attempting anything further."
She started to say something but happened to notice a clock on the wall over his head which told her that she had less than five minutes to get to her art session on time. "Oh, Draco, I hate this, but I have to go. I really can't miss it. But I don't want to leave."
"It's all right. We've plenty of time." He gave her a tired smile. "I assure you, I've no intention of letting anything come between us now."
Hermione stood, feeling frustrated and anxious. "What about later today?"
He shook his head. "I don't know how long I'll be working with Potter."
"Tomorrow? When is your stakeout?" It felt extremely important that they be allowed to continue this conversation as soon as possible. There was a sense of urgency she couldn't shake, though she didn't know why.
Draco chuckled as he threw some gold coins onto the table. "Hermione, I'm not going anywhere. Wild thestrals couldn't keep me away from you. Our stakeout should happen tomorrow afternoon, if all goes according to plan, but there's no way to know when it will end. It's been awhile since we've done one. Could be a few days. I'll owl you as soon as it's over."
Hermione sighed as they left the café. "All right. I'll be here. I've nothing much to do. Oh, wait, that's not quite true. Now that the fundraiser is over, I'm completely at Pansy's disposal for wedding preparations."
He groaned. "I don't envy you there. Where's your class? I'll walk you."
"Down a side street." She pointed vaguely in the direction she needed to go and slung her bag over her shoulder as she started walking, letting her hand hang loosely at her side. He'd taken her hand before; she hoped that he would again.
But he didn't, instead tucking his hands into his pockets. "I'd like to come to the show, if it's possible."
Hermione felt a nervous flutter in her gut. It was one thing for him to care for her—fancy her, she thought giddily—but another to want to join her on such a mundane, common part of her life so quickly. She hadn't let anyone else see her art yet, and she was a little hesitant that he might be the first. She wasn't even sure what was going on between them, other than wanting to snog him again—as soon as possible and for as long as he'd let her.
"I'll find out about bringing guests. But, honestly, Draco, one of the students is a recent graduate of Hogwarts who wants to proudly display a painting of his grandfather's nose—in elaborate detail. It's all just for fun… not the quality you're used to, I'm sure." She was torn between wanting him to go and fear he'd think everything about their show was ridiculous.
Draco chuckled. "I've seen plenty of art shows, Hermione. Don't worry. I don't even mind seeing a portrait of some old codger's nose if it means I get to see it with you."
Since the walk was short, they reached it in only a few minutes. "Well, here we are." He hadn't held her hand, so she didn't expect him to kiss her, but she desperately wanted him to—even just a small peck. She had the promise of a future conversation, but she felt extremely untethered, their intense kiss on one hand, and very little understanding of where they stood or where to go from here on the other.
He glanced around, his gaze falling on her. "I think it would be best to keep this quiet for now. I probably shouldn't have held your hand earlier, but I haven't noticed anybody who might make something out of seeing us together. I'm not sure if I'm quite ready for everything that's going to happen when the press gets wind of us."
Her heart thrilled at the casual way he said 'us,' and she managed a small smile. "Us?"
His gaze snapped to hers. "Unless you'd rather not…"
"No!" she rushed out. "I mean, I do want an… us. At least, the hope of us, for right now. I know there's so much to talk about, things to consider, and—"
"I think there's more between us than hope, Hermione." He smiled at her, a real smile, almost as brilliant and easy as the one she'd seen in July.
"Yes, I… quite agree." She felt slightly breathless.
Draco seemed to inch forward, as though he wanted to step closer, but he glanced sideways at the window of the studio and stopped. "I'll owl you as soon as we're back."
"All right. Say hi to Harry for me." She gave him a small wave and entered the studio.
ooo
Tuesday, 24 OCTOBER
Hermione,
It's just after one and we've arrived back at the Ministry. Potter and I have an hour or two ahead of us, filling out this report, but after that, we're done for the day. However, I'm exhausted and plan to get a nap in as soon as possible. I want nothing more than to dash over there and continue arguing about our feelings, but I'm afraid it will have to wait a bit.
Are you available tonight? I know it's short notice. If not, when are you free next?
I've instructed my owl to wait for your reply.
Draco
The note arrived while Hermione was deep in conversation with Pansy about the color of the bridesmaid dresses. Pansy had brought six samples of fabric to show her, and despite Hermione giving her opinion in the first five minutes, Pansy had since spent an hour and a half debating, shining different lights at them, and generally acting as though the continued existence of the earth depended on her choosing the right shade of fabric.
Hermione had gone through two cups of tea and had just put the kettle on for a third when the owl arrived. Pansy was absorbed in her latest conundrum, so Hermione was able to read the note without Pansy nosing in.
She quickly responded, telling him she was at Pansy's disposal for the rest of the day but was free the following night, plus Friday evening, and sent the owl away. She smiled as she watched the owl disappear, then returned to the kitchen to fix her tea.
Pansy held up a swatch—the one Hermione had said was the best—with a triumphant expression on her face. "I'll go with this one."
"Fantastic. Now all you have to do is pick a dress."
Hermione shook her head. She adored Pansy, but the woman had no ability to make a quick decision—except, apparently, that Ron was the man she wanted to marry. It hadn't taken her long at all to reach that conclusion.
Pansy sighed and gathered the swatches into her large handbag. "Speaking of that, I've made an appointment for this afternoon at a dress shop. It's at two, so we'd better grab something to eat quickly or we'll be late."
Hermione took a deep breath to fortify herself. When she'd agreed to help Pansy with all that, it hadn't mattered, because that had been before Draco. Now, though, she wanted to drop everything and be with him, though of course it was ridiculous to expect to spend all of her free time with him. What they had was new, fragile, and the last thing she wanted to do was rush things.
"That sounds lovely, Pansy. And after the dress shop?" Maybe she could free herself up to see Draco after all.
"We've an appointment with the florist, then the stationery shop, a quick stop at the venue to go over a few menu things… Oh, and we're meeting Ron and Harry for dinner."
"All right then." Hermione sighed. "Let's get going, I'm actually rather hungry."
Pansy slung her bag on her arm and picked up her sunglasses. "I am as well." Hermione took the tea things to the kitchen, and Pansy followed, leaning against the doorframe. "Was that Draco's owl?"
Hermione blinked, careful not to let the dishes fall. "What?"
"The owl that came for you. Just a few minutes ago." Pansy folded her arms across her chest. "Don't play dumb."
"That came from the Ministry." Hermione quickly washed her hands, turning away to dry them in order to hide the slight heat that had crept onto her cheeks.
Pansy tapped her foot. "It looked like Draco's."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "He isn't the only person in England to have that breed of owl, Pansy."
She regarded Hermione for a second longer, then gave a slight huff. "Fine, keep your secrets. But let's go."
ooo
When she got home that night, Hermione had an owl waiting for her. It was the same one from earlier, and her heart quickened as she let the bird inside. It ruffled its feathers indignantly, as though annoyed at being kept waiting for so long, but Hermione gave him a few treats, which seemed to pacify him.
The note was from Draco.
Hermione,
I've got a meeting with the Foundation Board tomorrow night, and Friday night Mother and I are dining out. What about next week? I've got Monday and Tuesday open.
Draco
-ooo-ooo-ooo-
Draco,
This is funny, but not funny. Tuesday is my regular art class time, but my instructor wants us to come Monday as well—probably most nights next week. Is Sunday during the day out of the question?
Hermione
-ooo-ooo-ooo-
Hermione,
I'm laughing. Really hard. Sunday is out of the question, I'm afraid. I have a regular meet up with friends from school, and we are not allowed to miss it for anything less than dismemberment or some such severe injury or illness. Even in death, we're supposed to attend, though playing cards would be much harder.
I've got a meeting this Thursday with the Board of Directors of Malfoy Industries—yes, I'm still in charge of that during my father's extended absence in Azkaban—and those always run quite late, due to the fact that I schedule them as infrequently as possible. They're planned out months in advance, and I simply cannot change it. However, I could see about slipping out early; I'll have to let you know but of course I won't know until it's done. If you don't hear from me by eight, I'm still there.
The end of October is a busy time for me, business-wise. I can't stand the thought of not seeing you until November, however. Let me know if anything changes.
Draco
-ooo-ooo-ooo-
Draco,
I find it endlessly ironic that I've made such an effort to clear my schedule this year, to be available for things that come up, things that I truly want to do, only to be stymied now by your schedule! And mine, I suppose. Things just tend to creep onto the calendar, don't they? I'm not worried—much. I'll leave all of November open, just in case. It's too bad you have a job and I don't—my days are wide open.
Hermione
ooo
Friday, 27 OCTOBER
Hermione missed her regular Friday lunches with Harry so she was thrilled to get his owl, asking her to meet him in Diagon Alley to repeat their tradition. She was at the appointed café in plenty of time, reading a book when Harry arrived.
He took the seat opposite her. "Hey, Hermione."
Something in his voice made her look up. He was grinning widely, almost frighteningly so.
She set her book down with some trepidation. "Hi, Harry. How are you?"
"Oh, I'm fabulous, thanks for asking. Ginny sends her love. She wants to have dinner with you and Pansy again very soon. As soon as possible, actually." He leaned back in the chair, giving her such a triumphant look that she felt immediately self-conscious.
"You're acting strange." She picked up a menu to give her something to do. "Let's order."
"Yes. Let's." He peered at his menu for a few seconds, then set it down on the table. "I've decided." Then he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "What I want to know, Hermione, is how you're doing."
She blinked. "I'm... fine?"
"Yeah? Do anything... interesting lately? Anything... new?"
Hermione knew immediately that Harry knew about Draco, and the only way that could be true was if Draco had told him. Hmm.
She gave him a pointed look. "Out with it."
Harry shrugged. "Oh, it's nothing, I'm sure. My partner has been in... unusually good spirits this week. I wondered if you knew anything about that."
So Draco hadn't told Harry, but her friend suspected something anyway. "Why would you think I would know anything?"
Harry didn't quite answer her question. "Even on our stakeout! He reheated my coffee for me, and I didn't have to ask! Usually it takes an act of Merlin to get him to lift a finger for me, but not lately." Harry grinned. "He was even humming yesterday. Humming. Draco Malfoy. But, if you're not going to tell me..."
"I suggest you ask him. Seems the most logical course of action." She hoped he wasn't going to needle her all through lunch; she'd leave as soon as possible if he didn't let up soon. She and Draco had agreed not to say anything yet, so why did Harry have to start prying almost immediately?
"Oh, trust me, I have. He just scowls and tells me to bugger off. But I know him, see. Better than most."
She smiled. "What did you say to him when he warmed your coffee?"
Harry's smug expression faltered. "Oh, uh, well, I said he was acting so nice to me, he must have gotten laid. Asked him who would be so desperate. I'd only meant it as a joke, but he didn't like that. Did you know he has the most powerful Stinging Hex of anyone I've ever encountered?" He rubbed a spot on his chest with a grimace. "I still feel it twinge if I accidentally brush it."
"Serves you right. As I recall, he's been England's sexiest bachelor three years running. Ginny told me that, actually." She loved seeing the way Harry's face contorted. "I highly doubt he'd ever be desperate for companionship."
Her words made her insides twist uncomfortably. It was true: he was highly sought after, though famously elusive. Any whispers of his social life were greatly prized. He'd weathered his single date with Astoria and ignored the speculation surrounding the multiple sightings with various women as he traveled around the world. When the press at large got wind of the two of them... She shuddered. It would be chaos, more so than her breakup with Ron years before, more even than the interest Ron and Pansy had drawn.
"–but then his face turned blue and he screamed like a chicken."
"What?" Her gaze snapped to his.
Harry laughed and wiped his mouth with his napkin. "Nothing. You were clearly somewhere else. Although it didn't seem like somewhere especially enjoyable. Want to share?"
"Just thinking about how involved the media likes to be in our lives. Do you think they'll ever not be interested in us?"
Harry shook his head. "No. But if you keep your head down and go about your life, there won't be much to report on." Then he grinned widely. "Unless you're planning to announce a highly controversial relationship to the world?"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "No plans to do that."
He faltered again. "You would... tell me, right? If there was something to tell?"
"What are you on about? Honestly, you're being very vague." She hated not telling him, but it would have to wait. A few other people deserved to know first.
Harry's shoulders slumped slightly. "I suppose his good mood could have another cause. But I thought for sure..."
"Why don't you ask him?" Draco could deal with Harry's questions. "I want to hear about Eloise! How is life with two? I bet James adores her."
"Most of the time he does. But the other day..."
Harry regaled her with tale after tale of his children, and she listened happily. She didn't know when she'd see Draco again, but she felt sure that it wouldn't be too much longer. Until then, she would fend off Harry's questions and help Pansy choose the perfect bridesmaids dress. She knew that would be a feat worthy of Merlin himself.
ooo
NOTE: I cannot believe there are only two months left in this story. I seriously wondered, when I began this in January, if I'd really be able to do this. The very stubborn part of me refused to consider NOT finishing, but a year is a very long time and so much has happened this year. But, here we are, nearing the end. I can't wait for this to be complete. I hope you've enjoyed this, and I cannot adequately express my thanks for everyone who has faithfully read this all year. I KNOW a year is a long time for a story! It's an eternity in the fandom world. And you have my eternal thanks.