Wednesday, May 2, 2007

She never showed.

Draco frowned into his coffee and consulted his watch again. He tried to remember if she'd said anything yesterday about not being able to meet this morning. Maybe she was sick? Surely even Granger took a sick day every once in a while.

When it became too late for him to wait around any longer, lest he actually be tardy to work, Draco huffed in irritation and left. He practically stomped all the way to work despite the weather being particularly temperate and sunny. He brushed past his boss with a cursory grunt of "morning," before continuing his stomp parade to his office.

"Malfoy?" his boss poked his head around his door. Fuck, maybe he had been too short with him.

"Sir?"

"Aren't you meant to be observing Puddlemere's reserve squad for free agents today?"

Draco blanched. Fucking fuck. He'd completely forgot he was supposed to apparate straight there 15 minutes ago.

"Oh, erm, yes sir, I just realized…. I forgot… one of my reports…. I'm heading there now." Draco was never late. What the hell had he been thinking?

"Are you feeling all right?"

Bellamy Wright-Johnson did not often inquire about the personal lives or feelings of his employees, so Draco knew he must look like an absolute horror-show this morning. After waving off his boss once more, Draco was on his way and apparated to the Puddlemere practice pitch.

For the rest of the morning and through the afternoon, Draco lost himself in his favorite game. Quidditch kept every one of his senses busy as he observed the fast-flying players, zooming around and above him while he jotted down observations and consulted last season's stats. The quidditch season officially kicked off next weekend and the team managers and coaches had until midweek to solidify their starting rosters and reserve players.

The quidditch world was an ideal place for someone with a murky history like Draco Malfoy to seek gainful employment. No one gave a shite about your background or surname so long as you cared about the sport, were knowledgeable, and filed decent recommendations to teams about recruitment and retention. Especially if you were as adept as Draco was at figuring out the best rosters for specific players.

And despite the satisfaction he felt, Draco was unnerved that all it took was for Granger to no-show that morning to completely throw him off. He didn't know how to reconcile the fact that it seemed to be the only thing getting him out of bed in the morning. I am in control of this.

Thursday, May 3, 2007

Draco had slept poorly last night. He had dreamt about the night he had taken the Dark Mark on his arm. A burning sensation like he'd never experienced in his whole life coursed through his arm and spread to the rest of his body. And he remembered as he jerked awake and clutched at his arm, how that was the one time in his life that he had seen a look of fear in his mother's eyes. It was only for a few seconds, then the smooth, impassive mask was back in place. But Draco never forgot the look in Narcissa Malfoy's eyes as her only child had a dark symbol burned into his skin by a mad man.

His reflection showed all the hallmarks of a shitty night of sleep. Despite spending all of yesterday out in the sun, he was starting to resemble the Bloody Baron: gaunt, deathly pale, purple-gray bags under his eyes. Maybe he'd start an argument with Granger today about pixies just to feel something this morning.

If she shows at all. She doesn't owe me a thing.

Draco pursed his lips and tried not to once again think about how the Muggleborn witch had wormed her way into his daily work week routine.

Granger did arrive at her usual time, but Draco was surprised to see she looked like sleep was also a distant concept.

"Morning," she said brightly, but had to beat back a yawn as she sat down.

"Granger."

She wordlessly began unloading her various books and journals on the table and disappeared behind her newspaper.

Draco cleared his throat. "Were you feeling ill yesterday?"

Her eyes were sharp as they snapped from her paper to meet his gaze.

"No, I wasn't ill."

She lowered her eyes again to her reading and Draco felt that familiar prickle of irritation.

"Did you have an early meeting at the Ministry?"

Her eyes snapped up again, but now her gaze was softer, almost pitying. What was he missing here?

"No I, uh… I took a personal day." She made an awkward sort of frown and lowered her eyes again. And he really should have dropped the subject then. He really, really, should have. It would have been polite and proper to heed the behavioral cues she gave. But Granger was never cagey like this and damn if he hated not getting direct answers to questions.

"Well tell me it was at least for something amusing, Granger, and you're just hungover because you look like you only got an 'E' instead of an 'O' on one of your OWLs."

Granger let out a sigh and folded her paper shut. She looked so defeated and Draco had a moment of panic that he'd inadvertently done something awful.

"Every year on May 2nd, Harry and I take the day off and Ron closes the joke shop. Everyone spends the day at the Burrow with the Weasleys and we… well, we spend time together and try to honor the people we lost by… by being together and remembering them fondly. As the years have passed, it has gotten easier, but it's still just… hard." She trailed off and swallowed a lump in her throat as Draco felt his stomach drop out.

How could he fucking forget? Yesterday had been the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts. No wonder she hadn't shown up. Why would she want to spend that particular day with a fucking Death Eater? No, Granger would seek solace with the Weasley horde and Potter and a whole host of Gryffindor heroes as they toasted their victory over evil and talked about their feelings and cried and hugged and were comforted by the fact that people like Draco had been defeated. And why should she want to see his face? What a fun reminder for her that he'd been part of the group that had murdered Fred Weasley and Lavender Brown and Remus Lupin and…

"Malfoy?"

Draco stood suddenly and averted his eyes. "Just remembered I have an earlier practice to observe, see you Granger."

He swept out of the café without a backward glance.

Friday, May 4, 2007

Another morning, another corpse looking back at him from the mirror. Last night's terror inside his dreams was watching Crabbe fall to his death in the Fiendfyre in the Room of Requirement. He could actually feel the flames licking at his skin and woke up in a pool of sweat.

So it was no surprise to him that Granger commented on his appearance immediately that morning.

"Malfoy, you really don't look good."

Draco shrugged and tried to ignore the way the coffee was roiling in his empty stomach. He probably should have eaten something this morning. Granger looked like her normal self today; peppy and ready to right all the world's wrongs. She was digging around in her bag and then glanced surreptitiously side to side before holding something out to him.

"Here, take this," she whispered and Draco saw she held out a vial that was half full.

No.

No.

"Granger," he hissed through clenched teeth. "Is that what I think it is?" His palms were already starting to feel damp.

"Yes, it's Dreamless Sleep. I took half last night and threw it in my bag this morning to remind myself to get to the apothecary at lunch."

She was still holding the vial out to him. Draco tore his eyes away and looked out the window and tried to count to 10 in his head.

"It's really no trouble Malfoy, I was going to pick up some more today. You look like you could use some for the weekend."

He could use some. It would be so easy. It's only half a vial.

No. NO. I am in control of this.

Draco tried to steady his breathing, but his pulse would not slow down. The room was beginning to feel uncomfortably warm and the air around him thinning. He didn't realize his hands were trembling until he attempted to undo the top button of his collared shirt.

"Malfoy, what's wrong?"

Her voice sounded concerned and far away. She was still holding the vial up where he could reach. One move and his hand could close around it. He could take it tonight, drift into a blissful blackness and maybe never wake up.

He finally succeeded in undoing his top button, but the air still felt thin. He pressed both of his palms flat onto the table in between them and willed them to stay as if they were obeying a Permanent Sticking Charm.

"Granger." He ground out. "Granger. I need you to put that away. Now." Just stare at the table, just keep your eyes down here. Don't look at it. Don't take it. I am in control of this.

"But why—oh! Oh God!"

He heard her chair scrape away from the table as she walked quickly away. He didn't dare raise his head for the next few minutes as he tried to will both his pulse and his breathing to steady. Well now she knew. He was an addict and he could never touch that brew again. Just add it to the list of reasons Hermione Granger should stay far, far away from the likes of Draco.

Had he not been in the midst of coming out of a panic attack, the glass of water that suddenly nudged against one of his hands would have made him jump out of his seat. The glass of water was followed by a plate with a large blueberry scone.

"Drink what you can, it will help," came her quiet voice. Draco slowly raised a hand and gripped the glass. He took a small sip and felt it drop down into an empty stomach.

"You'll feel better with some food too," she murmured. Draco nodded, but felt he wouldn't be able to keep anything but water down just now. He took his time until the water was almost gone and the constricting feeling in his chest had eased.

With an immense effort, Draco raised his head. "What did you do with it?" he asked, voice hoarse.

"Poured it down the sink in the restroom," she replied.

"Good."

He braved eye contact. Granger still looked concerned but also resolute. She wasn't going anywhere.

"How long have you been clean?"

"Six and a half years."

"That's amazing, Malfoy."

Draco snorted and broke a piece off the scone. It did taste rather wonderful, almost like eating chocolate after facing Dementors. He finished the rest in two bites.

"Yes, I'm bloody magnificent for being reduced to a quivering mess at the sight of a fucking vial." Well his sarcasm reflex was still intact.

"I'm serious, Malfoy," she said in a severe tone. "Not everyone has that kind of strength. You should be proud of yourself."

He let out another derisive snort. "Granger, pride is not something I lack. I rather think that quality has gotten me into enough trouble over the years, don't you?"

Granger rolled her eyes. "Oh, just take the compliment, you prat."

"My, my, Granger, is this how you treat someone having a public episode? Kick them when they're down, eh?" Draco managed a weak grin and earned a good-natured eye roll this time.

He checked his watch suddenly. "Don't you have to get going?"

She shrugged. "I can be a few minutes late every now and then. I'll just make sure you get to your office."

"I don't need a chaperone to walk to work."

"No, this is for my protection." He raised an eyebrow at her response. "You see, if you collapse on the way in, well I was the last person to see you, wasn't I? It wouldn't take much convincing from you to have your solicitor go after me for plotting some sort of malicious action against you."

She couldn't keep her lips from twitching into a devious grin. And despite the fact that he had been so close to breaking six years' worth of sobriety a matter of minutes ago, Draco found himself grinning for the second time that morning.

"Please Granger, it would be too easy. You know I only employ the best solicitors. I'd bring you up on attempted murder in no time."

She let out a giggle. "Can you stand then? I don't want to be accused of not helping an injured man."

They left the café together and in the same direction for work. Their paths diverged as Draco reached the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron and Hermione kept on a few more blocks to the Ministry.

"Granger!" he called when she was ten feet away. She turned and looked back and Draco swallowed once before blurting out a "Thank you" and turning away quickly, not waiting for a reply.

And thus began another new morning routine, Monday through Friday: Draco and Hermione now walked the few blocks together from the café to their respective places of employment before parting ways.

June 2007

"Happy birthday mate!"

Theodore Nott clinked his glass of lager against Draco's and took a long sip. Draco took one as well, savoring the pleasant taste of the alcohol, the company of his friend, and the fact that it was a Friday. It almost felt like he was a normal person, capable of feeling contentment.

"What's new? I see the Wasps already have an early lead in the league, probably thanks to you."

Yes, quidditch, that was a safe topic. Because Draco wasn't quite sure how to discuss with even his closest friend that for several months now he'd been spending every morning before work in the company of Hermione Granger, by choice.

They talked sport for a bit, then Draco inquired about Theo's job in the Department of Finance at the Ministry.

"They must be keeping you busy, I haven't seen you in months."

Theo nodded, but then something passed over his face and he set his drink down. Draco noticed his friend had gone quiet and now sat with a furrowed brow.

After a beat, Theo spoke. "Do you think our parents were wrong?"

Draco slowly lowered his glass from his lips. "You'll have to be more specific, I'm afraid."

Theo sighed and ran a hand through his brown hair. "About… all of it, really. All the pureblood crap."

"Where is this coming from Theo?"

His friend sighed again. "I've been thinking a lot about how we were raised lately. It… wasn't healthy was it?"

"I suppose not," Draco responded drily and enviously eyed the fact that Theo was able to have rolled up sleeves in public, having never taken the Dark Mark. Theo and Draco had been friends long before Hogwarts, and their friendship continued after the world fell apart. Even if at Hogwarts Draco had reveled in ruling over his Slytherin cronies and Theo preferred to stay out of the spotlight and excel at his studies, they maintained friendly terms.

But with Voldemort gone, it turned out they had more in common than they'd appreciated before. Both of their fathers had bought in to the Death Eater ways, and paid with their lives. Their widowed mothers both existed as sort of ghostly heiresses, still retaining some standing in pureblood social circles throughout Europe.

Draco and Theo both continued their healing beyond the mandatory sessions. Neither of them cared to reconnect with some of their old Slytherin peers who seemed to never shut up about the "good old days." Hadn't they all seen enough torture and death over whose blood was purest? It was truly exhausting to adhere to that outdated ideology in such a fanatical way, and so Draco and Theo began isolating themselves more and more until just the two of them were meeting almost weekly to drink and talk, but mostly drink.

That is until this past year when Theo had practically been a ghost to Draco. Maybe he had a girlfriend now? Draco tried to fight the jealous feeling at how Theo's clean forearm opened up many doors that had been closed to Draco: a Ministry job and the chance for normal relationships.

Theo was still on his philosophical bend when Draco tuned back in. "What I meant was… all that nonsense about Muggles… none of it mattered. Muggles aren't poor and dirty or some sort of weird animals. They're just people… and I'm not sure I… I just think our parents were wrong, is all."

Draco shrugged, not sure he understood what had brought these feelings to the surface for Theo. If he really thought about it, Draco would have to admit he almost agreed. He truthfully didn't know much about the Muggle world besides that one café, but if he did learn anything from the war 9 years ago it was that everyone looked the same when hit with a Killing Curse, no matter the amount of magic in your blood.

"Still seeing your healer?" Draco grunted.

"Yup. You?"

"Once a month."

The two old friends lapsed into a thoughtful silence and nursed their drinks.

I am in control of this.

Draco paced in front of the fireplace in the room just off the hall of his home. Right on time, the fireplace lit up green and the next moment Draco's mother dusted herself off gracefully as she went to embrace her son.

"Happy birthday, darling," she pecked his cheek and took a step back to survey him. Draco felt it best to cut off any concerning remarks over his thinness or tired-looking eyes.

"Thank you, Mother. Tea service is ready out in the garden."

The large gardens behind Draco's home were flourishing this time of year, but they were still a pale imitation of the once grand landscape that used to accentuate the grounds of Malfoy Manor.

After hot, fresh-brewed coffee, the second recognizable scent Draco pinpointed from his brief brush with Amortentia was the smell of his mother's rose garden in the summer. The scent of the flowers was so strong that it seemed to permeate all around the grounds and Draco always associated the smell with memories of summer, of learning to fly on a broom, or running to hide after stealing extra sweets out of the kitchen with Theo and Crabbe.

But the gardens at the Manor were summarily destroyed the summer after his Sixth Year. Between random Death Eaters practicing hexes all over the grounds or Fenrir Greyback and members of his disgusting pack preferring to sleep outside, his mother's beautifully cultivated roses didn't stand a chance.

Who knew what the once-coveted and opulent beyond reason Malfoy Manor looked like these days? Ministry confiscation meant Draco only received his family's artefacts, heirlooms, and documents after they'd gone through a stringent magical inspection by the government to ensure nothing dark magic related made its way back to Draco or Narcissa.

Draco couldn't have cared less. Let them burn that fucking place to the ground. Every inch of his once grand home was tainted, and if someone else wanted the handsome dining room table upon which a giant snake had eaten a woman, then have at it.

Draco had barely scratched the surface of his inheritance to purchase Franklin House, itself an impressive country manor in Berkshire, though not quite on the scale of his childhood home. Narcissa had a wing to herself when she visited, but she also had her own English home for when she deigned to return to her home country.

"How was Vienna?" Draco asked to be polite. His mother detailed her many experiences in her weekly letters to Draco since she'd been gone after the New Year, but figured she would want to chat about her time there anyway. As Narcissa launched into a lengthy account of all the various galas she attended with her far-flung Black relations the last few months, Draco allowed his mind to wander.

Granger had mentioned on their Friday morning walk to work that her bill to restructure boundaries for centaur-designated lands was still at a standstill. Of course, being a bleeding-heart Gryffindor, her political tactic was to appeal to the humanity of lawmakers. And when Draco reminded her, rather harshly, he'd admit, that most wizards didn't regard centaurs as much more than savage beasts, she'd just about bit his head off.

"Temper, temper, Granger. How do you expect to curry any political favor if you flare up just when I'm merely pointing out a fact of society?"

That earned him a fair bit of grumbling from her end about how she didn't need "underhanded Slytherin lessons from him, thank you very much." Still, he'd convinced her to at least let him read the preamble to her bill as a fresh pair of eyes and he'd already annotated a few sections where the wording could be—

"Draco!"

He jumped slightly as his mother's sharp voice cut through his wandering thoughts. He had the grace to look a bit sheepish.

"Sorry Mother, what were you saying?"

"I was inquiring about how you have been occupying your free time as of late when you're not flitting to and from quidditch matches. I'm sure you're aware that the Greengrass sisters are back in England?"

Draco indulged himself in an eye roll. His mother had all the subtlety of a Howler. "I've no idea about what they get up to, but I did see Theo last night."

Narcissa lit up at the mention of Theo, as she had always been rather fond of him. "Oh you must invite Theodore and his mother around for dinner while I'm here."

Draco nodded and allowed his mind to drift back to Granger's centaur legislation waiting for him in his study while Narcissa went on a lengthy monologue about the merits of English cuisine over Viennese cooking. His mother need never know just how he was occupying his free time.

"You let that little ferret look at your work? You never share that with me!"

Hermione rolled her eyes at Ginny's complaint. "Ginny, when have you ever shown interest in centaur rights?"

"Right now!"

"But I have talked about this bill with you. You fell asleep after two minutes!"

"I did not! I was just… resting my eyes?"

Both women giggled at Ginny's obvious lie. Hermione picked at the remains of her slice of blackberry pie (was there any dish Molly Weasley hadn't mastered?) and watched as Ron and Harry chased Teddy and Victoire around the orchard. The children were only allowed on brooms under adult supervision and only several feet off the ground, but it still made Hermione nervous.

"And you trust him enough to share your work?"

Hermione shrugged, unsure if "trust" was the right word. "He's intelligent enough and blunt. I'm interested in his perspective and I know he won't sugarcoat his opinion."

She turned to face Ginny, and noticed the younger woman was chewing her bottom lip in concern.

"What is it?"

Ginny shook her head slightly. "How's he looking these days?"

Certainly less wan than usual, but Hermione could still tell sleeping through the night was difficult most mornings. After their small misunderstanding over the sleeping potion, he seemed a little looser around her, verbally anyway. Hermione didn't think she ever saw someone so impeccably dressed in a coffee shop, nor someone with such perfect posture. Though it might have earned Draco some sympathy points with Ginny, Hermione had not told her, or anyone, about Draco's past potion addiction and successful sobriety.

"Fine," she answered and Ginny's eyebrows shot into her hair.

"Oh, he's fine is he?"

"Ginny Potter, that is not what I meant and you know it."

Ginny smirked and waggled her eyebrows anyway. "You can't tell me you don't find him a little bit attractive?"

"And you do, all of a sudden?"

Ginny merely shrugged. "Well, these days I only see him from a distance at a few quidditch matches during the year, so I guess I wouldn't know. But you can't deny he was one of the more attractive boys in your year."

Hermione almost spit her bite of pie out. "You what!? Ginny, tell me you did not just admit to fancying Draco Malfoy at school?"

She merely shrugged again and Hermione actually missed when it was easy to embarrass Ginny back when she was 12-years-old. Now it seemed she had not an ounce of shame.

"I didn't say I fancied that bullying git. Just objectively, that he was quite good-looking. Too bad he had such a horrid personality and my sights were set elsewhere." She cast a positively hungry look Harry's way and Hermione wrinkled her nose.

"I'm still here you know, save the lustful longing for when you're home alone with your husband, please."

As Ginny snorted but continued to stare at Harry, Hermione's thoughts drifted to the fact that Draco wore perfectly tailored suits every morning, but there was certainly nothing wrong with admiring the way a man dressed. Nothing wrong at all.

"Good weekend?"

Draco had not had a very good weekend, but he would rather not admit that to Granger. His days had been spent in the company of his mother, whom he loved dearly, but her hints about finding him a suitable wife were becoming quite tiresome. Add to that his nighttime horrors of his mother being tortured, often something that got triggered when she came back from months-long trips, and he'd have to say this had not been one of his better birthday weekends.

"All right, I would say. My mother is back in the country for a bit." That was sort of a truthful answer.

"That's nice, you must miss her while she's abroad. Is she staying with you?"

"No, she has her own home." It was the old Lestrange estate, but Draco left that particular detail out.

"How often does she come back to England?"

"Twice a year, usually, for a few months at a time. She'll come for the Christmas and New Year season and then always for my birth—for the summer." He hadn't meant to say. He'd hadn't meant for her to know.

Her eyes widened. "Oh my goodness, was it your birthday this weekend?"

"No."

"You are such a liar. It was, wasn't it? I can't believe you didn't say anything!"

Draco raised an eyebrow at her. "And why would I tell you?" Why do you even care?

But now Granger was doing that thing where she half-ranted, half-muttered to herself. "…should have known… didn't think to… no wonder… well I'll just have to… you know you really should have let me know!"

Draco sneered. "Whatever for, Granger? What, going to buy me a present now?" We're not friends. We're… we're whatever we are.

She smiled serenely at him and then walked away from the table. Before he knew what was happening, she returned with a blueberry scone and plopped it in front of him.

"Happy birthday Malfoy!" she said cheerfully, and much too loudly for his taste. She sat down again and shot him another smile. He fixed her with the iciest glare he could muster, but his hand was already moving toward the baked treat.

Hermione chuckled triumphantly and began rummaging around in her bag. Draco froze. "Granger, I swear to Merlin, if you're about to pull birthday candles out of your bag-that-holds-your-entire-life I don't care how many people I have to obliviate this morning, I will hex your hair purple."

"Relax Malfoy, I'm merely getting out my copy of the centaur bill, but of course, I could start serenading you with 'Happy Birthday,' if you like?"

He leveled her with another glare and ate the scone in two bites, before she came up with any further public displays of embarrassment.

Granger looked at her watch and frowned. "On second thought, could we discuss this while we walk? I've got a department-wide presentation to attend this morning."

Hermione, to Draco's surprise, was receptive to many of his suggested edits to her bill's preamble. Most of his critiques had to do with the more emotional wording she was prone to using, advising her to appeal more to the public benefit, and what wizardkind stood to gain from her proposals.

She nodded thoughtfully as they reached their parting point. "Hmm, this is certainly something to consider in my next draft. I'm still waiting to hear about the outcome of the current version. See you tomorrow?"

"Goodbye Granger."

He waited until she was a little further away before he called out. "By the way Granger, my birthday was June 5th."

I am in control of this.

A/N: Huge thank you as always to anyone who responds in some way to this story. I hope everyone is safe and healthy wherever you may be in the world, and thank you for reading and taking this long, slow-burn journey with me.