The two women said nothing until they arrived at the Leaky Cauldron and settled into a booth near the back of the pub. "So," Ginny said, leaning toward Hermione. "what's this about? How was your date? Oliver was it?"
"It was bloody awful Gin" Hermione groaned. "Our reservation was mysteriously canceled, and he just offered his flat as an alternative." She huffed.
"He's a Quidditch player 'Mione. They think with the smaller head." Ginny's peals of laughter echoed through the pub. "I still don't know why you try to date Quidditch players. You hate the sport."
"Doesn't mean I don't enjoy looking at them." She muttered. "I need to find one with a brain."
"Malfoy still plays recreationally." Ginny offered. Hermione blushed scarlet and hid her face in her hands with a groan. "Ah, there it is. This whole mood of yours is because of Malfoy."
"He's insufferable." Hermione whined. "He ruined my date again."
"'Mione. The man is arse over end in love with you. Do you blame him?" Ginny said seriously. Hermione's head shot up and her eyes went wide.
"There's no way. You can't be serious." She shook her head fiercely. "He's dating that French Auror."
"Fake. They've been friends since they were in diapers."
"The Harpies chaser?"
"Fake. They enjoy each other's company at games but they'd kill each other if they were alone."
"The Romanian dragon tamer?"
"Doesn't even exist." Ginny laughed outright. "There's not been anyone serious in years. His last serious girlfriend was Astoria."
"But he broke it off with her…" Hermione trailed off.
"Eight years ago. The day after you and Ron split." Ginny finished for her.
"You can't be serious." She wailed.
"Deadly," Ginny responded, "think about it, will you? I love you both and you are perfect for each other."
"I….I don't even know what to think right now" Hermione mumbled.
"Just admit that there's something between you. There always has been" Ginny lay her hand on Hermione's with a smile. "What I'm about to tell you stays between us. He'd kill Harry if he knew that he told me."
"Most of what you tell me stays between us." Hermione shot back. "I'm not a bloody gossip like your husband."
"They got really really drunk one night and Draco let it slip exactly how long he's been carrying this torch." Ginny squeezed Hermione's hands again.
"How long? Ginny, tell me."
"Since you punched him Third Year."
"WHAT?!" Hermione shrieked. "That was fourteen years ago! Ginny!"
"Yes, I'm aware." Ginny deadpanned. "He told Harry eight years ago."
"And what? You did not think to, I don't know? Tell me? Gin, you're my best friend." Hermione whined. "What am I supposed to do now?"
"Well," Ginny smirked. "You can find that legendary Gryffindor bravery, march up to him, and lay one on him."
"I'll do no such thing" Hermione gasped. "I don't even know if you're telling the truth."
"You could ask him." Ginny shrugged. "He's at the end of the bar." Hermione shrank into the booth with a groan. "Saddle up love, here he comes." Ginny hissed. "Oi, Malfoy, interrupting our girls' afternoon?"
"I couldn't pass up a chance to see my favorite Potter now could I?" he chuckled and kissed her cheek. "Hey, Granger."
"Hi" Hermione squeaked.
"Well, I guess I'll be going! I have an appointment in an hour." Ginny grinned as she slipped out of the booth.
"Ginny," Hermione warned. "We're supposed to be having a girls' afternoon."
"Oh, my appointment must have slipped my mind." Ginny said innocently. "But it looks like you're still in good hands." She grinned wickedly.
"Don't you dare Ginerva Molly Weasley Potter." Hermione hissed, trying to grab her friend's hand.
"Bye love." Ginny grinned and then she was gone. Draco lowered himself into the recently vacated seat across from Hermione.
"So," he murmured. "I take it that you know. The Potters are shite at keeping secrets."
"Fourteen years?" she asked quietly. "Nine of which we've been sharing friends."
"You weren't ready" he said seriously. "For the first four you were off-limits for obvious reasons, then you and Weasley were together for two years."
"Which leaves eight years."
"Yes, I am well aware." He said casually.
"Eight years you could have said something" she hissed.
"I did." He shrugged. "I've said something more times than I can count. It's not my fault that your intelligence doesn't extend into your personal life."
"When? When have you ever told me how you felt?" She challenged.
"Every God dammed day for the last eight fucking years, you infernal witch!" he snapped. "You weren't ready."
"I wasn't ready for what?" she snarled.
"To hear me, of all people on this island, tell you that I love you. Ok? I. Love. You." He shouted. Hermione's eyes went wide, and her mouth opened and closed but no sound came out. Silence reigned for a full five minutes before he let out a resigned sigh. "I told you that you weren't ready."
"Just." She spoke quietly, rubbing her temples. "Just give me a minute to process."
Draco waited silently as she stared at the woodgrains of the table. He desperately hoped that his outburst had not ruined his chances of being with her. He had been so patient, so careful not to scare her away before he thought that she could accept his feelings and reciprocate them. He finally decided that distance was likely best in this scenario.
"I'll leave you to your thoughts." He said quietly. "Take as long as you need. I've waited for fourteen years. I can wait as long as necessary. I'm a very patient man." He rose and leaned over the table to place a chaste kiss on the top of her bowed head. "Remember what I said. You know where to find me when you have your answer."
"Draco," she murmured as she looked up, but he was gone.