Pansy felt rather than saw Potter's arrival, but didn't look up from her work, attention focused on the project before her. Fixing a pin between her teeth, she shifted through several swaths of fabric.
He ducked down, a hand to her back, and pressed a kiss to her temple. "What are you making?"
"It might be a dress," Pansy replied distractedly as she pinned a section of her pattern to a cut of fabric. "But it also might be a disaster."
"I highly doubt that," Potter said with a chuckle. He settled into a seat at the table, which was currently buried under her work. He folded his arms, watching in silence for a moment before he spoke again. "I feel like I'm watching a master at work."
"Flattery will get you nowhere, Potter," Pansy said with a roll of her eyes, even as her lips twitched.
At last she looked up at him.
"Nowhere?" he asked.
His eyes seared through her and Pansy snickered. "Somewhere." Sweeping her hair aside, she asked, "What are we doing today?"
"You look busy," Potter said with a shrug. "We can stay in if you like."
She only fixed him with a hard stare. "It's my second last night here. I heard from Draco, and I have to go back the day before Granger leaves New York. There's an event I can't miss." She noted the slight falter in Potter's face before he carefully schooled his expression. "So let's do something."
Potter's hands came to her hips, dragging her onto his lap. "What's the event?"
"Why?" she asked, offering a hint of a smile. "You want to be my guest?"
"Yes," he said without hesitation, cracking a roguish grin.
As it sometimes did, Potter's easy willingness to go along with almost any situation caught her off guard. Her heart stuttered as she swept a hand through his messy black hair, ducking in to press a kiss to his throat. Against his skin, she breathed, "Okay."
When he kissed her, warmth flared beneath her skin, but she drew back before she could get too distracted.
"I thought," she said, "maybe we could do something different today." He only stared at her, waiting for her to continue, and Pansy felt heat claw up her throat. He left her so disarmed she often didn't know what to make of it. "You know, since I've come all this way and―"
"You want to go to London," he said quietly, dragging a hand along her hip.
Pansy pursed her lips, bracing for his judgement.
But he only offered a thin press of the lips, his green eyes frighteningly genuine. "I'm happy to go with you―wherever. Whatever you want to do."
Merlin, but the man affected her in ways she never could have expected. Had never experienced before. Pansy couldn't remember ever feeling so vulnerable in the eyes of another before.
Potter felt like a freefall, and she was terrified.
But she only leaned in to kiss him again.
"You know," Pansy said, gazing up at the massive clock tower ahead of them, "I've never actually been here." She cast a brief glance at Potter. "My parents were too busy to do these sorts of things with me―and they never saw the value in Muggle history."
A wry smile tugged at Potter's lips. "I saw Big Ben a few times growing up with my extended family. One time they left me behind and didn't realise until later that day. I spent four or five hours just wandering around because I knew they'd blame me if I gave them a ring."
Pansy cocked a brow. "They sound like arseholes."
"That they are," he said with a chuckle.
When they arrived in magical London that afternoon, Pansy had felt uneasy. As if reading her hesitation, Potter offered to take her on a tour of the Muggle areas of the city instead.
Without any judgement or criticism whatsoever.
He had taken her to see the London Eye, Buckingham Palace, and now to Westminster Abbey.
The day had meant more to Pansy than she even cared to admit to Potter. It had been the perfect interlude to overcome her fears of returning home, but take that first step all the same. A lot of her hesitation had diminished in his company, and maybe one day she would feel comfortable enough to return.
Almost unbelievably, it had been wonderful to escape from New York for a couple weeks.
She had no idea where things would go between the two of them―if anywhere at all―or whether it would just be a fun excursion away from real life to look back on one day. But somehow, against the odds, Pansy had a good feeling about it.
In preparing to return to New York, she felt refreshed. As if she had broken through some unspoken barrier she hadn't even realised had been in her way for so long.
If Potter wanted to visit her―or even continue to see her in some capacity―Pansy was willing to give it a shot.
The idea fluttered around in the pit of her stomach.
Catching his eye, she smiled.
Hermione relaxed on Draco's sofa, her mind whirring as he cleaned a camera lens, peering closely at it.
Every time she thought of returning home, nerves swelled within her at the thought of walking away from Draco. The idea was absurd, when she had only known this side of him for two weeks. But he had been open with her from the beginning, and they had only grown closer through the duration of her holiday.
Realistically, she knew she had to return home. She had worked for years to get the job she had now with Gringotts, and she didn't want to live in New York.
But that didn't stop her heart from squeezing painfully in her chest each time she looked at Draco.
"What are you doing tomorrow?" she asked idly, perching on the edge of her seat.
He squinted at the lens before setting it down. "I have to go to a thing. A gallery opening."
"Of course," she breathed, offering a belated nod. She clenched her hands together tightly in her lap. "I'm sure that will be wonderful."
His lips curved. "It should be, yeah."
Hermione wasn't even certain why she had thought they might spend her last night in New York together―but she wasn't surprised he had an event. His life in New York was busy―borderline chaotic sometimes―and it was a wonder he had made as much time for her as he had.
It was a stark reminder of how different their lives were.
But he only stared at her a moment longer before releasing a sigh. "It's important. If I could stand to miss it, I would."
"I understand," she said quietly, offering a thin smile. "I don't doubt it's important."
"I didn't know how to bring it up," he pressed on with an apologetic grimace. "I would have liked to spend your last night in New York just the two of us. But… I hope you might like to attend as my date."
Hermione swallowed a fluttering of nerves. "Oh."
"You thought you weren't invited?" he asked, making a face.
She shrugged, nerves skittering through her veins. It wasn't like her to seek such assurance, but knowing she would be returning home without really knowing where they stood was nerve-wracking. They hadn't discussed many details of how this might proceed.
But Draco only ducked his chin, tongue darting out. "Let's put it this way: I can't miss this event. But if you didn't want to come with me? I would skip it anyway."
It was as blatant a declaration as she had heard from him, and colour suffused her cheeks when she caught his eye. Finally she nodded, worrying her lower lip. "If it's important to you, I'll be there."
A soft smile settled on his features that caused her heart to race. "Wonderful."
The anxiety of returning home the next morning had been replaced―albeit temporarily―with the decision of what she ought to wear to a gallery opening. All Draco had said was that the dress code was formal.
Hermione was certain she hadn't brought anything appropriate, and the few dresses she had bought while shopping in New York didn't feel formal enough, either.
So she had ventured into Pansy's closet, hoping the woman would forgive her one more borrowed dress. As she browsed a section of formal wear in the closet, nothing jumped out at her as something she could pull off.
A quiet knock sounded on the door of the closet, and a smile tugged at Hermione's lips.
Draco surely would have realised she didn't have a clue what to wear and had come to rescue her. But when she turned on the spot, surprise darted through her.
It wasn't Draco standing in the doorway, eyeing her with folded arms.
It was Pansy Parkinson.
The woman was more beautiful than Hermione remembered, or than the few photographs in her loft displayed. But the most surprising part was the lack of judgement or cruelty on the other woman's face.
For a brief, terrifying moment, Hermione wondered whether she had mixed up the dates of the exchange.
But Pansy clicked her tongue, as if understanding Hermione's hesitation. She strode into the closet as she said, "I came home a day early. You're fine." Her dark eyes flashed as they assessed Hermione, and a smile at last tugged at her lips. "I can't believe you are dating Draco Malfoy."
Despite herself and the unexpected meeting, Hermione laughed. "I'd say the same about you and Harry, honestly."
Pansy rolled her eyes. "He's looking forward to seeing you. We'll be at the opening tonight."
"Harry's here?" Hermione asked, a thrill of excitement jolting through her. "In New York?"
But Pansy only smirked. "I sent him off for now, but yes. You and I need to discuss what you're going to wear tonight." At the palpable relief that must have settled into Hermione's countenance, Pansy flashed a true smile. She reached back, dragging a garment bag from where it hung on the closet door. "I thought… if it's okay with you, I'd like to dress you tonight."
Hermione was oddly touched by the gesture, and she nodded. "That would be brilliant."
"Oh good," Pansy said as she rolled her eyes. "Because I made this with you in mind." She offered a wink. "And it's an added benefit that Draco will be uncomfortable all night."
As a million questions spawned in the back of her mind, Hermione only gaped at the woman, a bit of a laugh breaking free.
But Pansy, with careful and covetous hands, unzipped the bag, and Hermione caught a shimmer of silver as Pansy withdrew the dress.
The gown was floor-length, all ethereal beauty and soft flowing fabric. Hermione had never seen anything so breathtaking. As Pansy held it up against Hermione's form, a smirk brightening her face, Hermione felt her eyes sting.
The cut of the front was daring, and the back was exposed from the straps to just above her arse, below which it fell in a loose drape to the floor.
Before Hermione could say anything, Pansy stripped her down and fixed the dress onto her form. It clung to her hips and chest as if Pansy had known her exact size in making it. Pride sat on the other woman's face as she folded her arms, eyeing the dress.
"It's beautiful," Hermione whispered, uncertain why Pansy would have gone to such lengths.
"It's yours," Pansy replied, "so long as you tell everyone who made it."
With a snicker, Hermione understood a little better. Quietly, she said, "Deal."
Taking a step closer, Pansy peered at the fit of the dress in a couple spots, then tugged a lock of Hermione's hair between her fingers. "Let's get you ready, Granger. You're going to break Draco's little heart tonight." Before Hermione could retort that she didn't want to do such a thing, Pansy rolled her eyes with a snicker. "You want to leave New York at the top of his mind, right?"
At last Hermione whispered, "Right."
Because Merlin knew, she did. She wanted to see him again―so much so that she almost didn't know how to acknowledge the thought, given the short length of time they had known one another.
The depth she had come to care about him scared her, if she was honest.
Maybe she would be the one ending the night with her heart broken.
But she managed a smile, and breathed, "Let's do it."
By the time they were ready to leave for the opening, Hermione found she was unexpectedly grateful for Pansy's presence. The other woman kept her nerves from overtaking her as they chatted about their time in one another's space. It felt like they had known one another for years.
It was surprising, given the fact that Hermione typically didn't click very well with other women.
But while Pansy had been conceited and critical growing up, Hermione could tell she had changed. The knowledge assuaged her concerns about Harry's newfound interest in the woman. Especially given his willingness to go all the way to New York with her.
They would be meeting Draco at the gallery. He had needed to go earlier for work.
Harry met them outside, and Hermione found herself engulfed in her friend's embrace before she realised what was happening. She grinned at him as she drew back. His green eyes flitted between her and Pansy. "You both look amazing."
Looping her arm through Harry's, Pansy flashed Hermione a wink.
Hermione's nerves spiked again as they stepped into the gallery. Small groups of people already mingled, peering at an array of abstract and artistic photography on each wall, as servers in black tie formalwear strolled around with trays of hors d'oeuvres and beverages.
She helped herself to a glass of champagne to steady herself as Harry and Pansy drifted off, idly inspecting the artwork as she glanced around for the distinctive platinum of Draco's hair.
Finally, she spotted him in conversation with an older couple across the room, dressed in a sharp black suit. As if feeling her gaze he looked up, his expression warm with a laugh. But then his face faltered, brows knitting, and his head dropped into a tilt.
He excused himself, walking towards her.
As he approached, his face contemplative, Hermione couldn't help her smile. She ducked her chin with a quiet, "Hello."
"Hi," he breathed, still looking as if he couldn't quite make sense of her. "You look… incredible."
"Thank you," Hermione responded, her lips quirking playfully. "The dress is Parks."
His eyes remained locked on her face. "I don't care about the dress." Wrapping a hand around her waist, his thumb dragging along the curve of her hip, he pressed a lingering kiss to her cheek.
Warmth crept up her throat into her face at the feel of eyes on them, but Hermione leaned into his hold before he withdrew.
"What sort of work are you doing here?" she asked, gazing around as more people trickled into the room.
Draco stared at her for a moment, his expression conflicted. He swept a hand through his hair and said, "Tonight, I am existing."
She frowned at the nebulous response, but at the twitch of his lips, her mouth fell open. "Draco! Are these all yours? Is this your opening?"
His smile drew up, crooked and sly, and he lifted his hands in supplication. "Surprise. Remember when I told you I didn't want to do editorial shoots forever?"
Speechless, Hermione clapped a hand to her mouth as her eyes began to sting. Looking closer at the photographs―they were laid out in collections of similar images―she realised they told a story.
New York: the people, the places, and the lifestyle. From the macro of Times Square to the micro of a worn baseball in the grass. But he had curated the collection with such creative flair, the lighting and the composition of every shot so unique, she couldn't help but fixate on each one. Greyscale blended with rich, vibrant colour, and Hermione had never seen anything like it.
Turning back towards him with an incredulous laugh, she threw her arms around his neck. "This is amazing!" She swiped at one eye as she drew back, grateful for Pansy's waterproof make-up spells. "I'm so proud of you."
"I'm just glad you were still here to see it," he said quietly, the sincerity in his tone churning the nerves in her stomach into tumultuous waves.
She still felt eyes on her, and when Hermione looked around again, she found people blatantly staring at her. It made sense, now that she knew she was standing with the guest of honour. But still, the overt attention left her feeling disarmed.
But a wry smirk tugged at his lips again. "You obviously haven't seen the feature collection yet."
"What's the feature collection?" she asked, confusion sweeping through her when she realised no one was actually looking at Draco.
He slipped his hand into hers, their fingers lacing instinctively, as he led her further into the room. With a soft smile, he pressed a kiss to her temple and breathed, "Please don't hate me."
A breath caught in her throat when she saw them.
It was her.
The collection was from their photoshoot from several nights prior, when she had arrived at his flat with fear and doubt coursing through her.
But Draco had captured the best of her. The warmth in her eyes, the genuine smile, her head thrown back with a laugh. As her gaze darted from one photo to the next, heat racing through her with her adrenaline, Hermione's eyes began to blur.
This was why everyone had been staring at her.
She could remember each photo. The hesitancy when they had just started, the sultry teasing when he'd stripped her to her underwear.
And at the centre of the collection, in black and white with deep, artistic shadows, Hermione looking over her shoulder at him, the lines of her back bare to his camera. A coy smile on her lips and desire in her eyes.
The photo cut off in the middle of her back. But they were some of the most tasteful photographs she had ever seen, and despite the fact that half of them featured her in her underwear, none were vulgar or overly revealing. Overcome with surprise and the voracious cadence of her heart, Hermione beamed at him.
"Draco," she whispered, "this is amazing."
"What can I say," he said, his stormy eyes hard on her. "I guess you're my muse."
She didn't trust herself to speak, heart faltering in her chest.
He went on, nodding towards the centre photo. "That one's already spoken for."
"By whom?" she asked, gaping at him.
Draco rolled his eyes. "Me, of course."
As her gaze roved the collection again, taking in more of the brilliant details―how one photo led into the next, the interplay between colour and black and white―she noticed Harry and Pansy standing along the next wall. Pansy wore a self-satisfied smirk, her arms folded across her chest, while Harry only stared at her, mouth hanging open in shock.
Instantly, Hermione realised Pansy had known exactly what she was doing when she had made her dress for the evening. Draco must have told his friend about the collection in advance. And it explained why Pansy had spent more time on Hermione's hair than her own.
Snickering, she met Pansy's eyes with a nod; the woman only grinned in return.
Draco's hand lingered on the small of her back, warm and reassuring, and she turned to face him again. "Draco, this is wonderful."
"I'm glad you like it," he said with a chuckle, "and that you aren't ready to kill me for this."
Hermione had never been one to bask in attention, but the way he had captured her was so tasteful and alluring, she couldn't help but stare.
"I'm not going to kill you," she said, "but I do want to hear more about it. How long did all of this take?"
He dragged a hand along the back of his neck, gazing around. "I've been working on this for over a year. It's definitely been a labour of love. I finally arranged the opportunity to display a collection a few months ago. Your shoot was just the finishing touch I needed to tie it all together."
She caught his stare, a sad smile tugging at her lips. "Your talents truly shine here."
"That's the hope." His hand on her back tensed and his throat bobbed with a swallow as his eyes searched her own. "And it's why I'm not locked into staying in New York. For over six months now I've been sharing my portfolio with other galleries."
"Really?" she asked, uncertain whether she was breathing.
"Really." Draco's gaze penetrated through her, measuring her reaction. "In London, for instance." A nervous grin crept across his face, and Hermione realised how unfamiliar the sentiment was on him. "I need a new city to capture now, after all."
Although she couldn't quite wrap her head around what he was telling her, Hermione smiled. "If you're going to be in London, you'd only be a Floo trip away."
His lips twitched. "You might get sick of me."
"I doubt it," she whispered.
"And who knows," he went on, waving a lofty hand, "Ireland is quite beautiful, too." His face softened, his gaze lingering on her own. "I don't know what's next for me yet, Hermione, but I do know I want you to be a part of it. If you'll have me. I know it's only been two weeks, but I've just got this feeling."
Her mouth went dry, moisture spiking at the corners of her eyes again. The words caught on her tongue but she only whispered, "I'm so glad I ran into you here. And..." She drew in a deep breath. "I think I know exactly the feeling you mean."
Draco ducked in, his lips briefly brushing her own, and the look on his face stole her next breath.
"Honestly, you two. You're in public." Pansy's posh drawl broke them apart, but Draco only rolled his eyes, unimpressed.
Hermione tittered as she met Harry's stare, reading what she found there. They would have a long conversation about everything that had occurred over the past two weeks, but now wasn't the time.
Embarrassment threatened below the surface of her skin at what the photographs insinuated, but given the way Harry and Pansy had been joined at the hip ever since they'd met up with him, Hermione doubted he had much room to talk.
"We're going out after this to celebrate," Pansy went on, leaving little room for argument, "before Granger goes home tomorrow." She flashed a grin. "And I need to convince Potter of the merits of spending more time in New York. Much more time."
"Fine by me," Draco said with a shrug. "I'll be a while yet."
Indeed, as Hermione looked around she could still see many guests in discussion around various photographs.
But when Harry and Pansy walked off again, he muttered under his breath, "Something tells me Potter doesn't exactly need much convincing."
As she eyed the pair of them, she felt a fluttering in her chest. It was about time Harry opened up to someone again. "I think you're right."
"Come on," Draco said, trailing his hand along her bare spine as he observed the room, "I'll introduce you to some friends."
Hermione woke secure in Draco's embrace, her heart twinging a bittersweet rhythm.
He shifted behind her, his voice thick with sleep as he said, "Good morning."
"Good morning," she whispered in return, sinking deeper into his hold. "How did you sleep?"
Draco planted a kiss to her hair. "Amazing." He dragged a hand along the flat of her stomach, moving upwards to palm her breast. "What time do you leave?"
A breath chased from her lips as he tweaked her nipple. "My Portkey is scheduled for noon. I'll have to get my things from Pansy's place before I go to MACUSA."
As he squinted towards the window, the early morning light just beginning to stream through the curtains, he sunk back into the pillow with a sigh. "Is it forward to say I wish you weren't leaving?"
"No more forward than displaying a photo collection of me," she said quietly, her words missing the teasing note she'd intended.
Draco rolled his head to face her, eyes searching her own. "I hope that didn't upset you."
"No," she whispered, snagging her bottom lip between her teeth. "It surprised me though." Measuring her words carefully, she added, "As did a few other things you said last night."
"About returning home," he hedged. When Hermione remained silent, hoping she could quell the hopeful leap of her heart, he swept a hand through his hair. "I have a few options, and I haven't heard anything concrete yet, but London is one of them. The one I'm leaning towards."
She ducked in, pressing her lips to his as she murmured, "I like that one too."
"Okay," he said roughly, eyes flashing. "We're discussing this later when you aren't naked in my bed."
When he rolled her onto her back, kissing her deeply, she whispered, "Deal."
Hermione stared at the first of the series of Portkeys that would carry her back across the globe to Dublin. The weight of it sat heavily in her soul. She'd had no idea, when she left for New York two weeks ago, how completely everything would change.
The very thought of it was absurd, but Draco had become so important to her in such a short length of time.
When she and Draco went to Pansy's loft to pick up her luggage, skirting around Pansy and Harry in varied states of dress, she'd given each of them a lingering embrace. She couldn't help but wonder what Harry's plans would be, but they would have time to discuss that when he returned home the following week.
Drawing her focus back to the Portkey, Hermione found Draco's stare on her.
"We're going to try and make this work," she said, more so for her own assurance than anything else.
"Absolutely," he said with a sharp nod. "I'll visit soon and often. And I'll let you know if I learn anything about London."
Forcing a smile despite the wild pounding of her heart, Hermione nodded. "As will I."
Draco drew her into his arms with a heart-rending kiss that left her breathless, with little doubt as to the sincerity of his words. But he met her gaze, releasing a long breath.
"I just want you to know," he said softly, "how much this time spent getting to know you has meant to me. And… I look forward to what comes next."
"I like the sound of that," Hermione whispered, her eyes growing damp. Her heart clenched as she stared at him, uncertain when she would next see him again. But she couldn't help but trust the faith in her heart. And something else, lingering below the surface when she thought of him, that she wasn't quite ready to put into words just yet.
Swallowing a thick lump in her throat, Hermione squared her shoulders. "Goodbye, then."
"No." Draco shook his head, a sad smile tugging at his lips. "See you later―for now."
For now.
Hermione could deal with that. Her fingertips grazed his for a moment, energy jolting through her before she reached for the Portkey.
His grey eyes found hers, warm and filled with promise of a future they might share, as she whispered, "For now."
Author's Note: Thanks so much everyone for your support! I hope you enjoyed reading the story as much as I did writing it.
Once again, alpha and beta credits go to Kyonomiko and Persephone_Stone, respectively. Thanks friends!