Chapter 3
Bottle of wine in hand, Hermione stood on the doorstep of 12 Grimmauld Place, waiting for the door to open. When it did, she didn't expect Draco to be on the other side. He beckoned her in and shut the door quickly. "They've been fighting since I got here," he reported. "They don't even know I'm here. Not that I didn't try."
"Why are they fighting?" she asked.
He opened the wine and took a large sip before handing the bottle to her. "Whether or not to make you and Ron maid of honor and best man," he replied. "Ginny thinks it's a good idea, Harry doesn't."
"I'm inclined to agree with Harry," she muttered, drinking from the bottle. "Who do you think will win?"
He smiled wryly. "Ginny," they said together. Laughing, he took the bottle from her and set it on the coffee table. "What are you going to do if she wins?" he asked.
"Move to the muggle world and pray Ginny never finds me," she suggested. "Honestly, I doubt Ron would go for this plan either. We're not exactly friends these days."
Their break up was front page news for weeks. No one knew why exactly the engagement had been called off, but every gossip reporter published their guesses. "Were any of the rumors true?" he wondered. "I'm sure you're not comfortable telling me, but you can lie."
The rumors ranged from Ron sleeping around to Hermione being more concerned about her career. "No, none of them were true," she replied, taking a sip of wine. "And I'm not lying. Of all the stories they concocted, they never landed on the right one."
Before he could ask what the truth was, the angry couple entered the living room. "Sorry, Hermione," Harry mumbled, sitting by the fire. Ginny looked less happy than her fiance. "Um, we'd like the two of you to be maid of honor and best man."
Gray eyes widened, and he looked from Hermione to Harry. "Yeah, um, yeah," he replied uncertainly. "Um, you're sure?"
Harry eyed his wife-to-be as he nodded. "I thought it would be easier on Hermione," he said.
Hermione took a long pull from the wine bottle. "That's really not necessary," she assured him. "I don't have to be the maid of honor. You've got plenty of in-laws to choose from, Gin. I'm not disparaging your choice, Harry, but if Ron was who you really wanted-"
"He's not," he interrupted. "I chose Draco, end of story."
The angry look on his face told her to drop it, and so she did. Standing, she excused herself, claiming she needed fresh air. Draco followed to make sure she was alright, though he knew he was most likely the last person she wanted to see. He sat on the top step beside her, making sure to maintain sufficient distance. "I'm sorry," he said.
Brows furrowed, she stared at him. "Because you forced him to pick you over Ron?" she asked. "You seemed just as shocked. What I don't understand, and don't take this the wrong way, is how choosing you makes this any easier for me."
"Gee, Granger, how could I not be offended?" he retorted. "I know we're not friends, and if you have it your way, we never will be. But would you rather do this with your ex?"
Sighing, she leaned her head against the railing. "I'd rather not do this at all," she admitted. "Six months ago, I was planning my wedding. Well, fine, Molly was. When Ron and I called off the engagement, I thought I'd be cut out of the family for good. After all, I'm not going to marry into it, so there's really no place for me. I was okay with that."
"Really?" he asked dubiously. Like himself, Hermione was an only child. Her parents had been killed during the war by Death Eaters, and his father was among the men tasked with casting the final curse. The Weasleys were the only family she had, and he had not thought her to be the type to turn her back on family.
"May I please be alone?" she requested. "I really don't want to discuss this."
Nodding, he rose to return to the house. "You know, if you decide you do want to talk, I'll listen," he offered.
"Why?" she wondered, baffled by the new and improved Draco Malfoy.
He shrugged as he leaned against the door. "Because I know what it's like to keep secrets, and how painful it can be to feel like you have no one to talk to," he replied. "I'm not claiming to know that that's how you feel, but if it is, know you have someone who'll listen. I have a wine cellar, if that helps."
Getting to her feet, Hermione laughed and thanked him for the offer. "Why are you being nice to me?" she wondered. "You spent seven years calling me a mudblood and being generally awful. Harry's at least a halfblood. You're supposed to hate me."
"Would you really prefer that?" he inquired, keeping her from entering the house. "I'm making an effort here, Granger, trying to prove to you that I'm not that guy anymore. I've gone my entire life with sycophants and minions, and Harry's the first true friend I've had. I've learned that I like having friends. I thought you did too."
Scoffing, she turned on her heel. "Tell them I had to go," she said, descending the stairs. Draco ran after her, holding onto her arm to prevent her from leaving. Despite the steely, angry look in her eyes, he also saw unshed tears. "Let me go."
Draco relented at the sound of her weary, tired voice. "For what it's worth, I don't hate you anymore," he told her, taking a step back. "I watched you bleed, Granger, and it looked no different from my own blood. You're not a mudblood. You're not inferior to anyone. You're Granger - smart and strong and loyal and borderline annoying. That's who I want to be friends with, and that's who I'm hoping will give me a second chance."
She blinked once and swatted away an unwanted tear. "I wasn't expecting that," she confessed, looking anywhere but at the blond in front of her. "I'm not...I'm not good at making friends. I want to believe, for Harry's sake, that your friendship is genuine."
"It is," he promised. "If you give me a chance, I'll prove it to you."
Taking a deep breath, she asked, "How?"
Draco smiled. "I have no idea," he replied with a soft chuckle. "But I'm determined to do it."
