She didn't know how it happened.
She didn't know how it happened, but they ended up somehow talking.
And Draco Malfoy had grey eyes.
"You don't understand," he said, shaking his head and frowning. "Etiquette dictates that you don't do that. Here, have you ever been to Russia?"
She shook her head no.
"Pureblood culture is a lot like Russian culture. There is respect, and it is given to elders and superiors. There is formality and informality within the family. But happiness and enthusiasm between people outside the family is not expected or necessary."
She realized now that she wasn't worldly at all. Sure, she'd been acquainted with terrible things in her life, but a daily unhappiness? She couldn't help thinking that sounded awful, and she knew vocalizing this would make her sound naïve. Instead, she voiced a different thought she'd been having lately. To her, it was an epiphany of sorts. "I'm sure people in Russia were raised very differently, though. I've realized that that's what it comes down to, really."
He thought about this, still faintly frowning. "Now that I think about it, that sounds about right." He gave a little laugh. "But you're always right, aren't you?
A faint smile graced her face. "I like to think so."
"Anyways, they do drink as much tea as we do," he continued, giving her a lopsided smile at this random fact.
"You've been, then?
"Yes, with my father on a business trip. When I was sixteen."
The mood sobered very quickly.
"Do you think the war could ever have been prevented?" The question was quiet, asked after a few seconds of silence. It was matter of fact, curious, not a hint of wistfulness or longing.
She sighed. It was an uncomfortable topic, one that she had somehow hoped to avoid, though she didn't see how it could have been. It was a stupid wish, considering they were on the topic of blood. "I don't know…" she trailed off, still thinking about it.
"Don't you, or do you just not want to talk about it?"
"Well, though it may a bit of an…unwelcome topic, I was simply gathering my thoughts on it."
"By all means, take your time."
"I think," she said after a few minutes, "that it's improbable. Tensions were high, Voldemort was pressing in, and the Ministry was too cowardly to do anything about it."
Something about her statement made him bitter. "You know, as long as I've been old enough to make my own decisions, 'cowardly' has been the word I've associated myself with." He glanced up at her with strangely calm eyes. "I'm the exact opposite of a lion." He looked away, and she followed his gaze to an old man making his stumbling way out of the pub. "You know what I did in Russia? I got the Mark. I still have it, you know."
"I know," was all she said. She didn't know what her eyes were portraying, but she felt no anger, disgust, or suspicion.
He looked at her.
He kissed her.
And neither of them were drunk.