A/N: Thank you to all those who have reviewed and added this to either their Fave list or Alert list. I hope you enjoy this next chapter, and please keep the reviews coming, this is my first ever fanfic so I'm a little unsure and I'm in need of some reassurance!!
Disclaimer: Obviously I'm not JK Rowling, I swear I'm only borrowing her characters and will give them back... eventually.
Dutch Courage
Hermione leant on the railing of the balcony, overlooking the dance floor in the nightclub, cradling her drink in her hands. She felt Draco looking at her, and hurriedly took a sip of her drink to disguise the flush she felt creeping up her face.
"So, Gra…Hermione," he said, correcting himself and causing Hermione to suppress a grin at how sensual her name sounded when spoken from his peachy lips. "What brings a girl like you to a place like this?"
Without any warning and no time to prepare herself, Hermione felt all the memories of Ron and his unfaithfulness surge to the forefront of her mind, and she lowered her head as hot tears spilled from her eyes.
Shame, anger, hurt, humiliation; these were just some of the emotions that were whirring confusedly through Hermione, and all she could do was sob uncontrollably.
A gentle warm hand placed on her bare, quivering shoulder brought her back to reality. Suddenly the loud pounding music filled her ears again, and raising her head slightly, Hermione could see the clubbers writhing around on the dance floor once more. She swiftly wiped at her eyes with the back of her shaking hand, only to have a deep green handkerchief dangled in front of her tear-stained face. Hermione took it and dabbed at her eyes with it, before turning to look at its owner.
Her eyes widened when her gaze was met by an intent silver stare. She smiled weakly at Draco and, after registering that his elegant hand was still resting gently on her bare skin, she turned back to meet his gaze; there was something in those silver orbs that Hermione had never seen there before, was it concern? Surely not, this was Draco Malfoy, all round arrogant git that only cared about himself right? But then…
People change, she thought morosely, Ron sure did.
With that thought, a fresh wave of tears engulfed her. Her drink was taken from her unsteady hands and a strong masculine pair of arms wrapped around her and held her tightly. Hermione was taken aback at first, but with her mind clouded with hurt and alcohol, she soon leant into the embrace, burying her face into the muscular chest and breathing in a heavenly cologne. As Draco held her and, much to her surprise, comforted her, Hermione began to relax and regain a grip on her emotions.
After handing Hermione his dark green silk handkerchief and receiving a very weak smile from the distraught girl, Draco felt a pang of emotion. He didn't know why but suddenly he had a strong urge to comfort this fragile creature in front of him; he wanted to comfort her, and to find out who had upset her so much and then hex them into oblivion.
These new feelings caused Draco some concern; he'd never felt such strong emotions sparked by someone he barely knew before. And then he found himself wanting to get to know Hermione. He'd never given her a chance before. At school he had hated her and teased her constantly.
Who am I kidding? I never hated her, thought Draco. I disliked her immensely, but purely because I was supposed to hate her, I was meant to hate her but I just couldn't.
His thoughts were interrupted then by fresh sobbing from the poor girl beside him. Draco leaned over and took the empty glass that was dangling precariously from Hermione's quivering hands, placing it on a nearby table next to his own empty glass. Then he did something that took them both by surprise; he placed his arms around her delicate petite frame, and pulled her close to him, allowing her to let it all out.
As Hermione cried into his chest, he could feel a damp patch begin to develop on his ? shirt from her tears, but he couldn't care less. Draco just pulled her closer and held her more firmly to him, and as he did so he breathed in the gorgeous scent coming from her hair. He gently smoothed her hair with one hand in a calming manner, and quietly made little shushing noises whilst resting his chin on the top of her head.
Hermione was beginning to calm down again, her breathing returning to normal and no longer the shallow gasps from her hysteria. But Draco continued to hold her and soothe her. Hermione removed her hands from her tearstained face, and rested her cheek against Draco's firm chest, whilst wrapping her arms around his waist and holding herself flush against him. Draco didn't notice that his eyes had closed as he very gently began rocking Hermione from side to side in time to the music.
Mmm, coconut, Draco thought taking another deep breath and finally placing the delicious smell coming from Hermione's hair. As soon as the thought had registered in Draco's conscious mind, his eyes flew open and he immediately felt very uncomfortable with the intimacy of being so close to the girl he was taught to hate because of her heritage.
His first instinct was to push Hermione away from him and flee from the premises, but he knew he couldn't do that to her, especially when she was already clearly distraught over something. So instead he gently stepped back from her grasp and took her small hand in his own and began leading her towards the exit.
Hermione found her breathing returning to normal and the tears were no longer flowing as freely. She found, much to her great surprise, that there was something strangely comforting about being in Draco's muscular embrace.
Once she had calmed down, she lowered her arms from her saviour's waist. Draco reached out a hand for one of hers, and grasped it firmly but gently, pulling her slowly through the crowd to the exit. As they stepped out onto the cold dark street, Hermione turned to Draco.
"Where are we going?"
"Somewhere quieter," was the reply, as Draco continued to along the road trailing Hermione behind him. "I was thinking we should maybe go get a coffee?" Draco paused and turned to look at Hermione for a second. "I get the feeling that you need to talk about something."
His silver gaze was so intense and genuine, that Hermione was momentarily rendered speechless. All she could do was stare at this man in front of her; a man that was so familiar to look at, and yet he really wasn't the same person she had gone to school with.
After a couple of seconds of silence Hermione still hadn't disagreed, so Draco resumed towing her to a little all-night café at the other end of the road.
When they reached their destination, Hermione was surprised to see it was a normal Muggle café. But it was a quaint, warm little place. Draco ordered two cappuccinos and led her to a comfortable looking black leather settee, situated at the back of the room with a small pine coffee table in front of it. Taking a seat as far into the corner of the settee as she could manage, Hermione stared awkwardly down at her hands in her lap.
Draco settled himself comfortably onto the other end of the seat, he turned to Hermione and asked with a soft voice, "So? You want to talk about it?"
After lounging comfortably on the leather couch for a moment or two, Draco turned his silver gaze onto the brunette beside him. He smirked as he noticed that she had squeezed herself as far into the corner of the sofa as was humanely possible; and he tried not to notice the fact that Hermione's dress had ridden up a bit and he could now see the lacy top of her sheer stocking more than halfway up her toned thigh. He quickly averted his gaze from her exposed flesh and focused instead on the strange motion that she made with her hands.
Hermione's small hands were clasped together in her lap, but she was constantly running her thumb and forefinger from her right hand around one of the fingers on her left hand; the finger next to her pinky. Draco frowned slightly, obviously this move was significant some how, but right now he was in the dark as to its meaning.
"So?" he asked in the softest voice her could manage, "You want to talk about it?"
Draco could see her whole body stiffen slightly, and the finger movements ceased. Slowly she shook her head, and then raised her chocolate eyes up to meet his gaze. Draco felt a pang of emotion when he saw that her eyes were swimming with unshed tears. Unsure how to go about comforting her, he went with his instinct and reached out a hand and placed it over both of her dainty hands, which were still clasped in her lap, and squeezing in a reassuring kind of way.
At that moment the waitress approached their table and set down to big steaming cups of Italian coffee before them. She grinned at Draco, clearly taken with his handsome looks, although her smile faltered slightly when she saw him holding both of Hermione's hands. "Is there anything else I can get you, sir?" she asked in a husky tone with emphasis on the word anything in a flirty fashion.
Only Draco heard the barely audible snort issue from Hermione at the waitress's lack of subtlety. He turned to her, suppressing his smirk. "Would you like anything to eat, Hermione?" again he was taken aback at how nice her name felt rolling off of his tongue.
Hermione, whose gaze had dropped to her lap once again the second the waitress had approached, merely shrugged, as she continued to stare at his hand over hers.
"Um, I think we'll have two blueberry muffins please," Draco said politely, he was himself feeling peckish and thought it would be rude to eat in front of Hermione without getting her something. Plus he figured that it could help soak up the vast amount of alcohol that his companion had obviously consumed.
Once the waitress had left, Draco gave her hands one last squeeze, before withdrawing his and taking up his coffee cup. Hermione followed suit, and without being aware of it, Draco found his eyes glued to her mouth as she raised the cup to her chin and slightly puckered her lips in order to gently blow away the steam issuing from the hot liquid. He had to force himself to stop staring at the unintentional erotic act.
The waitress returned once more, bearing two small white plates each one topped with a large blueberry muffin. Placing them onto the small coffee table she smirked seductively at Draco before returning to the counter to gossip with her workmate.
Draco handed one plate to Hermione, her fingers accidentally brushing his as she took the plate from him. He almost threw the muffin at her as he felt a jolt of electricity pulse through his body from his fingers straight to his lower abdomen. Clearing his throat to distract himself, he searched desperately for something to say to cover the silence between them. But he was saved when Hermione spoke up, her voice less shaky now.
"Mal… sorry, Draco. Why are you doing this?" she waved a hand holding a chunk of cake to indicate him, the plate and cup, the whole situation.
He paused for a moment and took a sip of his coffee whilst he pondered that question, wondering the same thing himself. He decided that he might as well just tell her the outright truth.
"Because," he paused, taking a small bite from his own muffin, before continuing. "I don't really know why. I saw you in the club and, you look great by the way." He grinned as Hermione flushed red and mumbled a tiny 'thank you'. "I decided to buy you a drink so that we could talk, but then when you, um, well, you know," he gestured at her then at his eyes to indicate tears. When she nodded with a small smile he continued, "Well, I just wanted to help you out."
Hermione looked at him curiously, as Draco determinedly avoided making eye contact with her. "But why did you want to help me? You hate me. To you I'm nothing more than a filthy little Mud-"
Draco cut sharply across her. "Don't say that word," he said in a quiet yet hard voice. Hermione's eyebrows shot up towards her hairline at the irony of the situation.
"I'm sorry," he said so quietly Hermione leant towards him unable to hear it.
"Pardon?"
Taking a deep breath, Draco looked her square in the eye. "I said I was sorry… for everything. For all the hell I put you through at school; for all the insults I hurled at you and your friends; and especially for ever calling you that word!" Hermione's jaw hung open.
Finally finding her voice after that immense shock, Hermione asked, "Why now? After all this time, what's changed?"
Draco was taken by surprise at her directness. He allowed his eyes to roam over her beautiful face for a moment, taking in every contour and detail. Back at school he had never allowed himself to look at her in this way; his parents had brought him up in a way that meant he viewed Muggle-born witches (and wizards) as less than human, so he never gave them a second glance. But now…
Wow, he thought, getting lost in the pools of chocolate in her eyes.
She reached out tentatively and very lightly rested her hand on his arm. He stared at it for a second, noticing for the first time that she was wearing a sexy deep red nail varnish on her long manicured fingernails. Then pulling himself back to reality he addressed Hermione's questions.
"In case you haven't noticed, I've changed a lot in the last few years," he said with a tone of unmistakable pain, as though her failure to see that hurt, and Draco realised it really did.
"Oh, of course I've noticed," laughed Hermione sweetly, causing Draco to gulp for air as the musical sound left him breathless. As she laughed, she absentmindedly moved closer to him on the couch and massaged his arm with her warm hand.
"I'm glad," he responded in a voice that was higher than normal. He cleared his throat and continued, "Well, after the War we, that is my mother, father and I, were cleared of all charges of Deatheater activity, which you know as Potter told the court what my mother had done for him in the Forrest." Hermione nodded. "Well although my father avoided going to Azkaban, he still seemed to go unhinged afterwards. He would stay in bed for days on end, muttering to himself about all the values that he held dear. Well they were outdated, and after the downfall of the Dark Lord those of us trying to fit back in with society had to change our opinions on blood status and such."
Draco swallowed the lump that had appeared in his throat. Downing the last of his coffee and banging down his empty cup with more force than he intended, he resumed his tale. "In the end my mother had no choice but to send him to St Mungo's. He's still there now, in the Closed Ward, alongside the Longbottoms who were tortured to insanity by his own sister-in-law." He gave a short bitter laugh at the irony of it all. "Once he was safely out of the way, my mother encouraged me to rid myself of all the prejudices that had, in the end, drove my father mad. And so I did. Now I work hard for a living instead of dossing on my inheritance; I even set free my house-elves and the ones that chose to stay have days off and wages."
Hermione grinned at this news about the house-elves. Draco couldn't stop a smile of his own forming in return.
"And lastly, I no longer think of myself as above Half-Bloods, Muggle-borns or even Muggles themselves. Basically thanks to my father's insanity and my mother's new outlook on what was really important in life, I was able to break away from what I had been forced to become; instead I became who I wanted to be. And the final step, to ease my conscience (yes I do have one now) was to apologise to you."
He turned to her once more, and his silver eyes shone with a mixture of regret for the way he used to be, and pride at his achievements and transformation.
"Wow," said Hermione quietly, digesting all that she had heard. "I forgive you, Draco." Immediately he felt a rush of gratitude towards the beautiful witch next to him. She leaned in and very lightly touched her plump full lips to his cheek, and Draco could feel the heat rise up his neck and across his cheeks.
Hermione could barely take it all in. Everything that Draco had just told her seemed so farfetched and absurd, but his expression and the intense look in his eyes told Hermione that it was indeed the truth.
"Wow," she breathed deeply, knowing what must now be done to ease her own mind as well as Draco's conscience. "I forgive you Draco." Without thinking Hermione let her instincts take over as she leant slowly forward and softly kissed his chiselled cheekbone.
Hermione leapt back, apologising profusely in a quiet rambling voice, but she was silenced when she looked at Draco and noticed a blush creep across his handsome face. Draco Malfoy blushing, who'd have thought it possible? She thought with a private smile.
Placing her now empty cup and plate onto the table, Hermione considered Draco for a moment. Whilst they were at school he had always been so horrid to her that she had never even thought to look at Draco as anything other than an enemy. Now though, she peered at his profile and had to admit that he was incredibly handsome. His face was less pointy looking than it was in his youth, now it appeared to be strong and chiselled. His white-blond hair was no longer slicked back, it currently hung freely on his forehead, skimming his eyelashes and causing him to run his fingers through it to push it back from his face. He also looked great in Muggle clothes; he was wearing a pair of black jeans with a deep green shirt and a black jacket that emphasised his broad shoulders. And his eyes; Hermione had never looked at them before tonight, but now that she had, and taken in their unique silver-grey-blue kind of colour, Hermione found herself drifting away in them.
The waitress once again approached their table, startling Hermione back to the present and caused her to blush. The waitress removed their empty crockery, and set down a small saucer with the bill on it with a not-so-discreet wink in Draco's direction, which he chose to ignore. Before Hermione could react, Draco peered at the price on the receipt and pulled some Muggle money from his pocket and dropped it onto the saucer with a tinkling sound.
Draco stood and silently held out his right arm to her. Chuckling slightly, Hermione got to her feet, straightened her dress and grabbed her bag, before curling her hand around the proffered arm, just above the elbow. Hermione could feel his bicep tense beneath her fingers as he moved to lead her from the café.
Stepping out onto the cold dark street, Hermione's bare skin was assaulted by an icy breeze, causing an involuntary shiver. Draco took off his jacket and draped it around her shoulders, sending a wave of heat coursing through her veins that had little to do with the jacket. "Thank you," she said coyly.
Draco just smiled and hooked her hand over his arm again and led her along the lamp lit road, passing in and out of patches of orange as the passed under the streetlights.
"My fiancé was a cheat!"
Both Draco and Hermione stopped walking in the same instance. Draco turned to her with wide eyes, and Hermione clamped her hand over her mouth to prevent anything else escaping from it. She had been thinking about what had happened, and that she really did need to talk, but she hadn't meant to just blurt it out like that. A wave of shame and humiliation washed over.
Draco reached out and took one of her hands in each of his, turning her to look at him. He remained silent, but his eyes told her to continue.
After several gulps of cold night air, Hermione looked up into Draco's silver orbs. "Ron and I got together directly after the War. He proposed after Harry and Ginny's wedding. Tonight we were meeting in a fancy restaurant just down the road there, but he was late. When he finally arrived he smelt of girl's perfume and had lipstick on his collar. He has been cheating on me. I don't know how long for or who with, but right now I couldn't care less!"
Her voice had risen in anger, and Draco glanced around to be sure that there were no other people in sight. Then he wrapped his arms around her, hugging her close to his body. This time, Hermione did not sob; not a single tear was seen. If fact Hermione wasn't even thinking about Ron any more; she was now perplexed by how much she was enjoying being so close to Draco's firm, muscular body.
"The ring?!" Draco suddenly exclaimed.
"Pardon?" asked Hermione thoroughly baffled, pulling her head back to look up at him.
Draco smiled embarrassedly at his outburst, but something suddenly made sense. Pulling up her left hand to inspect it he said, "Earlier, you kept rubbing this finger," he indicated her ring finger, that until a few hours previous had been adorned with a diamond ring. "I didn't get why you did that repeatedly at first, but now I understand."
Hermione found herself smiling up at him. The smile widened and then turned into a small giggle in the back of her throat. Draco laughed gently too, not because he found anything particularly funny, but because her giggle was infectious and he felt she needed to laugh right then.
The sound of Draco's laughter was alien to her, but altogether very pleasant. As they laughed together in the deserted dark street, Draco held her close again and absentmindedly brushed a rouge ringlet away from her face and tucked it behind her ear. Hermione's laughter died on her lips at the intimacy of the gesture as she stared up into his face, which suddenly wore an expression that she'd never seen on his handsome features before.
Draco leant down slightly, pulling her closer still into his body. Instinctively her arms snaked around his neck and she pushed up onto her toes, closing the gap between their lips. As her lips touched his it felt as though a spark ignited at her mouth and sent a flame sweeping through her body.
Draco couldn't quite explain, not even to himself, exactly what he was feeling when he pulled the beautiful witch tightly against his chest and looked down at her with a seriousness that contrasted against the light-hearted laughter from a few second ago.
As Hermione's slender arms, now clad in his own jacket, curled around his neck, he felt her wobble slightly as she rose onto her tiptoes. She pulled him closer with one hand on the back of his neck, as her lips pressed themselves into his. On the moment of contact Draco felt as if a stick of dynamite had been detonated in his stomach.
He was surprised; surprised that she had made the move; surprised that he was standing in Muggle London, kissing Hermione Granger; and surprised by how much he was enjoying it. He placed one large hand on the small of her back and splayed his fingers, pulling her into him all the more. The other found its way to the nape of her slender exposed neck where he kneaded the skin and muscle gently, causing a small moan to escape from the young witch.
Draco smiled against her lips, before lightly running his tongue over them, begging for access into the warm moist depths of her sweet mouth. Almost as soon as the tip of his tongue had touched her full bottom lip, she gladly parted her lips to allow his tongue to explore. He revelled in the taste of her, and felt a low groan rumble from the back of his throat as Hermione began to massage his tongue with her own, her hands now running up and down his neck, in and out of his hair.
Time seemed to stand still. The kiss may have lasted only a few minutes, but to Draco it felt like an eternity. Slowly they broke apart, panting for breath. Draco's mind that had been gloriously blank whilst he was kissing her was now racing ten to the dozen. Hermione's face clouded with confusion as she pulled back from his hold.
"I'm so sorry, Draco," she said in a trembling voice, shaking her head as she stepped back. Before Draco had a chance to respond, she turned on the spot and was gone, leaving him with nothing but an echo of her Disapparation, and the incessant tingling of his lips. Dumbstruck Draco headed for home, checking that the coast was clear he too Disapparated.
The kiss felt amazing, as Draco's talented tongue explored the inside of her mouth. But suddenly Ron's face loomed in her mind. What am I doing? She asked herself sternly.
She pulled back from his strong arms, breathing hard, and she could feel his reluctance to let the kiss and embrace end. Her thoughts were now swirling around her head in a confused muddle. "I'm so sorry, Draco," she said, hearing her voice wavering. She stepped back from him and Disapparated to her old room in her mum and dad's house that they kept for her for when she visited them.
Hermione rubbed her hands together to try to stop them from shaking. Spinning in a slow circle, breathing deeply, she took in the familiar sights of the room she had grown up in and this calmed her. Or at least it did until she caught sight of herself in her floor length mirror, when she realised that she was still wearing Draco's jacket.
She hurriedly took it off and draped it over the back of her chair, then she retrieved her wand from her handbag and conjured herself into a comfy pair of rosy pink pyjamas. Flinging herself onto her bed facedown, Hermione fought to block memories of the various events from the night just ending, and drifted off into an uneasy, yet thankfully dreamless, sleep.