Chapter 2: Pansy's Turn
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It was a rainy night in Rome, Italy,
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"You want me to wait until its raining in Italy to propose?" Draco interrupted, a pale eyebrow raised.
"It adds to the atmosphere." Ginny scoffed, waving her hand at Pansy, "Keep going."
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And Hermione walked briskly down the sidestreets and alleys that would take her back to her hotel. She practically skipped across the cobblestones, skirting around puddles in her giddiness. The Ministry had sent her to Italy for some super important work that she totally did for the, uh-her department.
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"Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures." Harry supplemented.
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For the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. She had been sent to Rome on a business trip to negotiate with the Italian offices about their procedures and treatment of the illegal house-elf trade, and talks had gone so well that they had ended early that night. Hermione had decided to forego her cab back to the hotel and opted instead to meander through the drizzling streets, taking in the surroundings and ancient architecture of the beautiful city around her.
Years ago during the Second Wizarding War, she had jumped to several different countries while fighting Voldemort and the Death Eaters, becoming a key leader in the insurrection to overthrow the Dark Lord. The battles were scattered across two years and mainly centered around Britain—the seat of the European wizarding Ministry and thus a hotbed for Death Eater activity—but several large fights had also taken place on the continent. Hermione had locked wands with the enemy in Russia, Spain, and several Scandinavian countries, but never Italy. The city around her was unmarred from the memories of mud and blood that tended to stir up in her now and then.
Peals of laughter and clinking glass filtered out of nearby bars that she walked past, mixing with the delicious smells of late-night cafes and Hermione found herself suddenly lonely, a pang of solitude sliding through her chest. Her long-term boyfriend was off on his own Ministry assignment, and she had only been away from him for a week although it felt like so much longer. Lights danced off the slick streets that her boots carried her across, and she found herself back at her hotel sooner than she would have liked, pulled from her thoughts.
Hermione entered the wizarding hotel through the ornate golden door held open for her by the doorman and froze two steps inside. There, off to her right and opposite to the front desk was a little cluster of overstuffed chairs and reading lamps. One of them was occupied by a man that Hermione would have been able to instantly pick out of a crowd, nonetheless an empty hotel lobby. Draco Malfoy lounged back in the chair elegantly, and with an ease that would have made Hermione think he owned the hotel, owned all of Italy, if she hadn't known better. His pale features were colored by the warm interior lighting and the bright burn of a cigarette as he took a long drag from it, his eyes suddenly flicking up to meet hers.
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"Pansy, when have you ever seen me smoke? What a disgusting muggle habit." Draco's smooth nose scruntched at the thought.
"But it's a cool hobby! It's moody!" Pansy defended, blush rising to her cheeks. Recently, as part of her attempts to retrain the way she thought about blood status, Pansy had watched some old black and white muggle movies. Some she had enjoyed and some she had found silly, but practically everyone smoked in them and looked dramatic doing it.
"I don't smoke." Draco sighed.
"Fine then," Pansy conceded, "How about-"
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His pale features were colored by the warm interior lighting as he scanned the newspaper open in front of him. Several of the front page pictures were excitedly moving in celebration of some local holiday, but Hermione couldn't tear her eyes away from Draco's face to pay them any attention.
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"A newspaper? Isn't it late at night?" Draco critiqued. Pansy rolled her eyes,
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His pale features were colored by the warm interior lighting as he absently took a sip of coffee.
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"Again, coffee at night? I'll never get to bed."
"Merlin's beard, Draco." Pansy seethed,
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His pale features were colored by the warm interior lighting and the glow that danced across his face as he stared absently into the nearby fireplace, enraptured by the embers and not doing anything else like reading or drinking. His eyes suddenly flicked up to meet Hermione's and her breath caught in her throat as he gracefully stood and crossed the lobby towards her, not once breaking eye contact.
Her body thrummed in response to his approach, as if there was a taunt instrumental string between them that vibrated more and more the closer that they were to each other. She had felt it hum between them on the battlefield despite the explosions and curses being thrown every which way, felt it as he had stared at her during the numerous Wizengamot trials as if she was the only Witch in the room, felt it even after Draco had been exonerated and disappeared, during the long nights where she would close her eyes and look inwardly on herself, reaching out and holding onto that humming string inside her that told her he was still alive somewhere.
And as he crossed to her through the golden lobby, the vibrating of that chord made her hands tremble.
Draco stepped just inside of her personal space, as he usually did, and she had to tip her head back to hold eye contact. She was struck, as she usually was, by the breadth of his shoulders and how tall he had grown in the intervening years, filling out into his form from boyhood to manhood. He was still of slim build despite his labor-intense years as an Auror with the Ministry, yet derived his near-trademark intimidation from his height and that cutting gaze which he now turned on Hermione as he leaned over her. His voice lowered to match their physical closeness,
"Fancy meeting you here, Granger." A smirk traveled up his cheek as she grinned.
"Yes, it's quite a coincidence, Mr. Malfoy." She replied, eyebrows raised in mocking as she played along, "As I recall, you also had a Ministry assignment in Belarus this week? Some 2 to 3,000 kilometers away?"
"2,400 kilometers and a very long train ride." His lashes fluttered lower, and the small space between them became suddenly intimate with that simple gesture. The air shifted and her breathing hitched, but Hermione continued,
"Yes and did you leave Auror Nott, your partner, to fend for himself in Eastern Europe?"
"Nott has nothing to fend himself off against, the V-symp trail went cold and we were called back to the Ministry." Draco's eyes immediately dipped to Hermione's lips as she unconsciously licked them. V-symp was Ministry slang for Voldemort-sympathizer, and a good portion of Auror work these days was about preventing a Third Wizarding War by stamping out splinter groups that had fled or escaped the Ministry's roundups. Draco's eyes stayed locked onto her lips, "I just happened to take a detour."
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"That's, uh, a lot of exposition there, Pans. You don't think-" Blaise stumbled, trying to steer his friend out of the weeds.
"What, no! No, it's good! Keep going!" Ginny interrupted with Gryffindor conviction and waved the darker-haired girl along. The redhead's cheeks were flushed and she was obviously swept up in Pansy's little story. Harry grinned from next to her at his wife's enthusiasm.
"Thank you." Pansy addressed Ginny specifically, ignoring Blaise. Off to her left, Draco began massaging his temples again.
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"Did you now?" Hermione murmured, reaching a hand out to grab onto one of his lapels, rubbing her thumb along the fabric.
"I did." He slowly shifted, mirroring her movement as he ghosted a pale thumb across her lower lip. With that simple motion, Hermione felt as if he had reached inside her and strummed the string between them, sending the humming buzz back up into her ears and causing her hands to tremble.
Draco stepped back, vacating her space and instead taking hold of the hand she rested on his lapel. He tugged her back towards the lobby doors, "Come on then."
Hand in hand, they walked through the rainy streets of Rome, and Hermione found herself following her boyfriend back through the alleyways and around the puddles that she had just crossed earlier. His quick step and tall form seemed to cut through the drizzle and she lagged behind him for a moment staring at his back, his customary dark clothes almost blending him into the slanted shadows were it not for the shock of platinum blonde hair on his head.
The film of memory shifted over her vision just then and she felt herself back in Ireland, during the war, in formation behind Draco. Back then, just as they were now, they had moved silently in single file as they wove their way through the heart of a Death Eater encampment on what most members of the Order would have considered a suicide mission. They had broken protocol at the same time that night, she remembered, both of them wordlessly reaching out for each other, nervous hands locking together as Draco lead the way towards the General they were sent to assassinate. Hermione watched his back as they achieved their goal, Draco throwing the killing curse that would cripple Death Eater command and Hermione saving him from several vicious hexes as she covered their backs during the retreat. Their hands didn't break until they had aparated back to the Order's safehouse, and when his fingers finally left hers, sliding across slick Death Eater blood, she had first felt the faint thrums of the string between them.
With a tilt of his head Draco caught her eye, amusement playing on his mouth, and as he spoke the memory dissipated into the rain,
"We're here." He said, stopping and bringing her around next to him. Before them stood one of the cozy little cafes that Hermione had passed earlier, the light, smell, and sounds of late-night dinner faire still filtering out across the street. The interior was warm and decorated in oranges and greens, the colors distorted and fuzzy through the rain on the glass.
With a light touch on the small of her back, he lead her into the narrow building, a bell tinkering above them indicated their arrival. A loud, gesturing waiter greeted them and conversed with Hermione in Italian before leading them to the back of the room, Draco following her lead. Hermione smiled to herself at the reversal, so typical for their relationship. Draco was never much of a "people person" and left most interactions with strangers up to Hermione when they were together. It made him different from other men who felt the need to always lead a woman, but Draco's preference was well suited to Hermione's own personality. Besides, he took the lead in other endeavors of theirs.
The table the waiter lead them to was in the back of the restaurant, against a window that looked out towards the street on the other side of the block, rain gently tapping against the glass as Draco smoothly helped Hermione into her seat. The Malfoy family upbringing had its flaws, but the impeccable manners sure were nice sometimes. He found his place across from her and ordered them some wine as her eyes swept the menu.
There were homemade pastas, roasted lamb and duck, fresh chef salads that she knew had to be made from some rooftop garden. Hermione's finger absently ran down the page as she scanned the risotto and fish selections.
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A particularly loud stomach growl interrupted Pansy's concentration as a bashful Harry rested a hand on his stomach, "I think we need something a bit more substantial than biscuits. Excuse me." Harry smoothly left the table to make his way to the front counter, presumably to check the cafe's menu.
Pansy instinctively glanced to Ginny and the girls shared a look that seemed to say 'typical'. Reaffirmed, Pansy continued her story.
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The waiter returned with their white wine and took their orders before bustling away and leaving them in comfortable silence. It wasn't unusual for the two of them, even if it had taken Hermione a while to get used to it. Another memory resurfaced as she glanced over at Draco's profile, chin caught in his long fingers as he looked out the window at the people making their way through the rain. It had been during what should have been their seventh year at Hogwarts, a moment of brief peace between the endless string of skirmishes that seemed to make up the war. They had both been staying in an Order safehouse in Cardiff with several younger recruits, the two of them tasked with leading an expedition along the coastline to disrupt a Death Eater-protected port where they were importing supplies to help sustain their army.
It was the night before the mission was to take place and Hermione couldn't sleep, instead deciding to walk through the empty, run down house to the kitchen for some tea. It took her a few steps to realize Draco was there as well, deathly still and turned away from her, arms crossed over his chest as he stared out the back window at the rain. Spread out on the large table before him were all manner of maps and papers and scribbled notes; he was going over the mission plan for tomorrow. Adjusting, revising, and-Hermione could read by the set of his shoulder's and the tenseness in his jaw without even seeing his face—agonizing over his decisions.
That last observation is what killed her impulse to say something, in fear of interrupting his train of thought. Instead, she clamped down on her usually chatty tongue and went about making tea, placing a steaming mug in front of Draco and sitting down at the other side of the table to cradle her own as she joining him silently in watching the rain stream down the back window. They lost two young Order members the next day and Hermione had watched it weigh a heavy silence on Draco's shoulders.
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A rueful Harry sat back down at the table with a plate full of sandwiches and a finger to his lips, "Don't stop on account of me." He grinned as the other two boys immediately reached for food.
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Hermione blinked out of her memories as delicious plates were placed in front of them and they ate together, the silence punctuated only by brief inquiries about Draco's truncated Auror mission; it was uneventful, there were no traces of the V-symp faction, yes his partner Theodore Nott was still seeing that Ravenclaw healer from St. Mungo's, and yes they would all have to go out for drinks when the two of them got back home.
"And your meeting today?" Draco asked as the empty plates were taken away and glasses of wine refilled.
"It went well." Hermione said, with a proud smile, tapping a nail against the stem of her glass, "The Italian offices agreed that their practices were outdated and were more than happy to learn about the revised procedure I had presented about Illegal Magical Beast Trade at the conference last month. The presentation that the Minister fawned over?"
Her preening elicited a smile from Draco as he reached across the table and brushed his fingertips against the hand she had rested on the wine glass. His fingers lingered, smoothing lightly back and forth across her knuckles to soften his insult,
"Such a brown-nosing Gryffindor." He chided with a crooked smirk.
"Jealous Slytherin." She responded, reaching forward with her other hand to trap his fingers between hers, rubbing circles against the pads of his calloused, nimble hand as she held it.
"You've come a long way, Granger." The complement immediately brought heat to her cheeks and despite her comfort in their long relationship, she still found herself shyly looking down at his hand, unable to meet the man's eyes, "And so have I. Mostly, with your help."
Her eyes fluttered up to his face in surprise at his admittance, but were distracted by his other hand which passed a fist across the table towards her, setting a small black box next to their entwined hands.
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"Oooooh!" Ginny couldn't help but squeal, as she brought light fingertips to press against her mouth in an attempt to contain her reaction, "So sweet!" She squeaked despite herself, glancing over at an unhappy Draco.
"That is not what I would say." He deadpanned.
"That is so what you would say." Pansy countered, "I've known you for years, Draco."
"I mean, it's not wrong." Harry gestured at Draco with a sandwich as the blonde grimaced and brushed invisible crumbs off his arm, "But he should get down on one knee."
"I would not-" Draco was cut off by Pansy waving her hands between them,
"No! This is what I think Draco should do, ok?"
"Wait what if-" Blaise started but was cut off again.
"Shhh! My turn! You can go next." Pansy silenced him with a wave of her hand.
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Immediately, Hermione felt tears blur her vision as it locked onto the black box, and Draco extracted his hand from hers briefly to open it, revealing a rather large almond-shaped diamond, inset on the sides with yellow and green gemstones. He reached back out to hold her left hand as he spoke,
"I know my family doesn't have the best . . . history, but this ring has been passed down for centuries. My mother wore it for many years." Hermione looked up at the emotion that was edging out in Draco's speech. His eyes were locked onto hers, his face calm, but there was a wavering in his voice. She knew how much his mother meant to him and how hard he fought to protect her during and after the war. Her death a year ago had been the most ruined she had ever seen Draco. This ring . . . new tears welled up in her eyes.
"She would have wanted me to give it to someone special." He said after pausing to compose himself and clear his throat. His eyes dipped down to the ring as he carefully pulled it out from the box's black velvet folds, before locking back onto hers. He gave her hand a squeeze,
"You are that someone special, Hermione." She felt the chord hum between them.
"Yes." She said, tears spilling over as she brought a hand to her mouth, "Draco, yes."
He carefully slipped the ring onto her finger and it fit snugly, sparkling up at her. Her tears continued to spill as he stood up and gathered her in his arms, holding her to his chest as she got her first good look at the ring on her finger. It was like, huge.
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Pansy winked at Ginny who nodded, smiling, "Totally huge. Hear that Draco?"
"Are you done yet?" Draco grumbled.
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Hermione was dimly aware of the chorus of Congratulazioni's and Bravi's that had cropped up around them in the small restaurant, and applause soon broke out, several patrons nearby dabbing at their eyes. Hermione quickly grew embarrassed, and they sat back down after accepting celebratory champagne from the wait staff.
The moment they sat down, Draco took a hold of her left hand, admiring the ring on her finger as his sipped his champagne.
"Now you know, you really have to stick by me, Number Two." He joked, using the nickname he had goaded her with for months on the battlefield. Due to Draco's quick mind, he had steadily risen through the ranks in the Order after defecting. Order leadership had decided that the best way to temper his cold analytics and bad reputation was with Hermione's warm compassion, and had continually paired them up as mission leads; Hermione falling into a "Number Two" position behind Draco and taking care of the day-to-day organization while "Number One" planned the long-term strategy and fallout. On days when Draco felt like heckling Hermione—which had been most of them—he had forgone her name and referred to her only as Number Two.
"Yeah," Hermione said with a sniff, wiping the last of her tears away as she squeezed his hand, finding that she liked the weight of the stone on her finger, "You've always needed me watching your back."
Draco genuinely grinned, before bringing her hand up to kiss the backs of her fingers, "I know."
"Good."
The two of them sat together in the little restaurant, drinking champagne and admiring the ring on her finger for several hours; Hermione remembering the blood and dirt and ash that used to coat her hands and the man across the table from her who had been her Number One for a very long time indeed.
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A/N: And a second one for you all! Chapter three will go up next week.
Cheers, thanks for reading!