Chapter 5
It had taken a good amount of convincing to get Hermione to the hospital the next day. Blaise had pleaded, explaining that Draco had requested she come. She had forced him to promise that he wouldn't leave her side, no matter how many times Draco demanded he leave. He was too afraid to leave her alone with him, and went so far as to suggest an unbreakable vow. She had stilled his wand when he attempted to cast the spell, promising that it wasn't necessary.

Now she stood outside of Draco's room, too scared to enter. Blaise placed a hand on her shoulder and opened the door. "You'll be fine," he promised. He led her inside and greeted Draco.

"Hi," Draco greeted her, ignoring Blaise who stood beside her chair.

One little word caused tears to spring to Hermione's eyes. "Hi," she returned. Draco extended a box of tissues, and she gratefully accepted one. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cry. It's the hormones, I think."

"It's alright," he replied kindly. They sat in awkward silence; Draco working up the nerve to ask about their relationship and Hermione attempting to stop the flow of her tears. When she finally seemed to quiet down, he asked, "Did Blaise tell you why I wanted to talk to you?"

Hermione nodded. "You wanted to know about us," she replied. Draco nodded pensively. "Well, where to begin?" she wondered with a small laugh.

The war had only been over a few months when Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger met at the Three Broomsticks. Hermione had planned to help with the reconstruction efforts at Hogwarts, and would be meeting with the new headmistress around noon. But with an hour to kill, she stopped into the pub for an early lunch.

Draco had spent the days following his release from his Ministry-imposed home imprisonment wandering Hogsmeade Village. Every day, just before noon, he would stop into the pub for a butterbeer. He knew it wasn't the wisest time of day as the lunch crowd came in, but Madam Rosemerta was usually in the kitchen preparing for them. After placing her under the Imperius Curse during his sixth year, he had a hard time facing her.

When he arrived that day, his usual table was occupied. Not caring if he drew attention to himself, he marched up and slammed his palms down on the table. "Find another table, Granger," he growled.

Hermione held up a hand to silence him as she read. When she finished her page, she marked it with a scrap of paper and closed the book. "There was no reserved sign, Draco," she commented. "I'd say the table is fair game."

He wanted to yell at her, not only for using his given name, but for her flippant attitude. Still against the idea of causing a scene, he pulled out the chair opposite her and sat down. He frowned petulantly at her as she kept her ever watchful gaze fixed on him. It wasn't until he began to kick the table leg that she spoke.

"I didn't think you'd join me," she admitted. "Finding another table probably would have made you happier."

"This table makes me happy," he replied.

Hermione's eyebrows rose skeptically. "Your behavior would suggest otherwise." His frown deepened further. "Should we order lunch?" she asked, hoping to improve his mood.

"Not afraid I might poison your food?" he inquired, smirking as he mulled the thought over in his head.

"No," was her simple reply. Then she laughed when he shot her a defiant look. "The Ministry has just released you. You won't jeopardize your freedom by poisoning me."

He knew she was right. He hated that she was always right. They ordered lunch and ate quietly. Both seemed to hurry through their meal, and when she finished, Hermione dropped a few coins on the table. "I have to get up to the school," she said as she gathered her belongings. "See you tomorrow?" Taken aback by her question, Draco merely nodded.

Back in the hospital room, Draco stared at her. "So we had lunch," he said. "How does that lead to marriage?"

Hermione smiled as she recalled the memories of the beginning of their friendship. "We ate lunch together every day," she told him, "long after after the renovations at Hogwarts were completed. When the school reopened and I went back to finish my last year, you met me every weekend for lunch. That year at Christmas, you invited me to come home with you."

"But my parents-"

"Didn't mind," she told him. "Lucius was in Azkaban, and your mother wanted you to be happy. I remember her telling me that. We had just walked in, and she dismissed you to take our bags upstairs. Then she told me that she didn't care if I was muggleborn or pureblood. Too many people had died because they believed in blood purity, and she thought it was senseless. It made her happy to see you smile again. That's all she ever wanted."

"And I was happy?" he asked. She nodded. "How long have we been married?"

"Four years," she told him. "The first week of September 2000."

Draco was silent as he took it all in. What had started as an accidental meeting at lunch had led to a wedding and two children. Blaise had said that their marriage had changed the wizarding world. When he asked her about it, she blushed a deep shade of crimson.

"I think Blaise exaggerates," she remarked, glaring at their friend. "There were people who were against it at first. Then slowly, I think people started to see us in a different light. It was well known that we hated each other before the war. Then as the world was rebuilding itself, so were we."

"There was an article in the Prophet about it," Blaise added. "They said that while Potter was the great conqueror, it was the two of you who gave the world hope that we could move on."

Closing his eyes, he pressed the heels of his hands into the sockets. "Maybe we should let you rest," he heard Hermione say, and his eyes snapped open.

"No, please. I want to hear more," he pleaded.

"Tomorrow," she promised, rising from her chair. He reached out and grabbed her hand to keep her from leaving. A gentle smile ghosted her lips as she moved toward the bed. She hesitated a moment, leaning midway toward him.

"Please," he whispered.

Hermione pressed her lips to his cheek, and said, "Tomorrow, Draco."