It was the day after Draco had seen Hermione. He sighed as he looked into the mirror, examining his stubble and deciding against shaving it. He walked over to the refrigerator, looked inside, and groaned.
"Damn it all," Draco muttered. "Now I've got to go to the store."
If he was being honest with himself, he would have admitted that he was glad for the distraction from the events of the night before. But this was Draco Malfoy, and he was almost never honest with himself.
So, grabbing his satchel and his jacket, he headed out the door, determined to find some food to soothe his grumbling stomach.
"Do I want sunflower seed-coconut or almond-cherry?" Draco pondered. This was, after all, an important decision. How could you have a good day if you didn't have a good granola?
Sudden tears blurred Draco's vision. He knew exactly what he was doing. He was just trying to distract himself from his thoughts of Hermione. He gave a bitter laugh. As if granola could replace Hermione! He hadn't been able to get a good look at her the night before – she had been wearing a hooded jacket – but he could still picture her in his mind, and that, for now, was enough.
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a couple coming down the aisle that he was in. They hadn't noticed him yet. Maybe he should just leave while he had the chance, before the girl tried to comfort him after seeing his tears. The couple was about to pass him. He would have left at that moment – in fact, he was intending to leave, but then he heard their conversation.
"Marc, wouldn't it be okay if I just –"
It was the same voice as last night, sad, hollow, empty. Draco felt his heart begin to race.
"If you just what?" The voice that had responded was hard and mocking. "Oh, hello, Harry, Ron, everyone that I abandoned, I just wanted to let you know that I faked my death so that I wouldn't have to face you anymore."
Draco's eyebrows rose. So, Hermione Granger, the war hero, had faked her death. That would explain why she had been at a Muggle bar. That also meant that whoever was with her was a wizard. He listened closer.
"No, Hermione, our deal was simple. In exchange for helping you fake your death and making sure that no one ever found you, you would become mine."
There was silence. Then, "You didn't do such a good job at that. Draco still found me."
It was barely a whisper, but Marc had clearly heard her. Draco heard the sickening sound of Marc's hand connecting with Hermione's cheek. His blood boiled.
"Listen here, you little Mudblood bi-"
"Don't you dare finish that sentence," Draco snarled. He spun around to face a large, muscled, hulking man.
"And just who are you?" Marc sneered.
"It doesn't matter who I am. What matters is who you are," Draco said, smirking. "Misshapen teeth, stupid, and looks like the spawn of a troll. You must be Marcus Flint."
Marcus' face took on a look of cold calculation.
"I'd know that smirk anywhere, little Malfoy," he told Draco. "You might want to wipe it off your face before I do it for you. You gonna tell your father about this?" Marcus smiled evilly as he noted the fury rising in Draco's eyes.
"Why don't you tell my father?" Draco hissed. "You'll be meeting him in hell very soon."
Draco should've known what would happen next. After all, he and Flint had been in the same house at Hogwarts. Still, he didn't think that Flint would do something like this in public. Flint pulled back his fist and slammed it into Draco's face.
Draco crumpled to the floor. He heard Hermione gasp. He saw Flint drag her away. He wanted to do something, anything, that would keep Flint from taking Hermione. It was too late, though, and Draco knew it. He was a coward.
Finally, he got up and staggered to the bathroom. As he washed his face, he couldn't help but think of Hermione. He knew that he had just made her situation much, much worse. There was only one thing left to do…break the rules.