To La Belladonna, The Chaminator and ThoseLionEyes.
It had been three days. Three days since Hermione literally felt her heart sink into her stomach and consecutively try to escape through her throat at the sight of a dying Malfoy.
Now she wasn't entirely sure whether her heart was still caged in her chest or had escaped and abandoned her to be by Malfoy's side at the hospital.
Worried sick and missing her companion, Hermione visited Malf- Draco (somehow since the heart-rending incident, Malfoy had transitioned to Draco without Hermione's permission) every day. His condition remained unchanging – stable, but the same. He still remained in deep sleep – the Potioners and the Healer explained to Hermione that his magic was cocooning him from any external dangers or attack, all the while working on healing him from the inside.
In other words, Draco was currently untouchable while he healed himself. The Potioners and Healers were unable to do anything, as Draco's magic only permitted them to take blood samples via the Muggle way. Until Draco wakes up himself, it was just research, research and research. Harry and Ron had been trying to get Umbridge to give them the cure as well, but she had been stubborn, giggling every now and then at their futile attempts to heal 'young Mr Malfoy'. Clearly the Ministry had been far too easy on her after the War, and now after all that has happened, Hermione hoped that she would be sent to Azkaban for the rest of her life.
Still, Hermione dropped by religiously during her lunch breaks, just to watch Draco resting inside the makeshift incubator and then proceed to have a discourse with the Potioners and Healers.
All things considered, Hermione wasn't sure whether she was fighting for him to get back to normal, or for him to get back to her. After much deliberation, Hermione decided that it really didn't matter, just as long as death wasn't an option.
At the present moment, Hermione was eating Chinese takeaway, staring blankly at the empty space right across where she was seated at the table. She glanced forlornly at the expanse of her flat, and almost immediately shook her head.
Oh come off it girl, he'll be fine! She told herself, He's Malfoy.
And that, somehow, put a smile on her face.
Not for long however, because her expression immediately went from hopeful to befuddlement at a sudden knocking from her door. Then she had realized that her wards had started alerting her a little of a presence outside, but she had been too absorbed in wishing Draco well that she had completely ignored the feeling.
"Just a minute!" she called out and she threw away the empty cartons of Chinese food into the trash and washed her hands.
It's probably Oliver.
"Oliver," she smiled at the handsome face that greeted her on the other side of the door.
"Hermione," he grinned boyishly and waved a little, "How are you?"
"I'm great," Not really, "Thank you. How are you?"
"Fantastic," he said, his accent making that word sound very musical and very charming, "You look down, though. Everything okay?"
"Oh, it's just Buttons – he's not well. He's currently at St- the vet," she quickly answered, hoping that Oliver didn't catch that little slip-of-the-tongue, lest he questioned her as to why a cat is in the hospital, and not the vet.
"Aw, shame, I'm sorry," he said sadly, "What happened?"
"Food poisoning," she smiled a little, "He'll be fine though, he's recovering as we speak. Would you like to come in?"
"Oh, actually, I came over to ask you if you were available for drinks. Tonight?" he asked, his eyebrows going up, a faint blush appearing on his cheeks.
Hermione analysed the situation, fast.
There were plenty of reasons why she shouldn't go out with Oliver. First, it was a weekday, and she had work the next day. Second, she really had forgotten to get back to him about the whole 'I'm interested in you, so what say you?' deal with him. Thirdly … thirdly … there was nothing, really.
The only reason that motivated her to go was that the longer she stayed at home alone, the more she missed Draco and the more her worry grew.
"Hang on, let me get my coat."
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"Always like a lady who loves her Bailey's Irish Cream," Oliver grinned, gesturing at the drink Hermione was currently nursing.
She smiled at him, embarrassed, "Well, it's mild and … very …"
"Very feminine," he laughed, "It's all right, there's nothing wrong there. Lots of girls probably wouldn't admit to liking such a mild concoction of alcohol, since it's very creamy and all."
Hermione grimaced a little at that, knowing how many of her Muggle friends and how Ginny, most especially, loved their beer and other hard liquors, after Harry had introduced her to the wonders of Muggle alcohol.
He had even introduced them to Draco, who had taken a supreme liking towards gin.
Hermione recalled the many times Draco had come over for dinner or some gathering at Harry's and found that he would almost always go for the gin bottle first.
"So how do you know this Muggle pub, anyway?" Hermione asked Oliver curiously.
"Well," he cleared his throat, "It was by chance, actually. My teammates and I used to go out drinking at Wizarding pubs but found that the sexual harassments were too much to bear," he laughed at Hermione's surprised expression, "We couldn't have proper fun, with proper drinks. So we resorted to this. And we love it. I love it."
"I see," she nodded.
"So, I was wondering," Oliver watched her intently, "Have you come to a decision regarding the conversation we had the other day?"
Hermione knew straightaway what he was talking about. He wanted an answer.
Would a 'sorry, I was too busy with my cat' sound too crazy? Not to mention the double-barrelled meaning it entailed.
"To be honest, Oliver …"
I'm a lesbian.
"To be honest …"
I think I'm crazy and I see dead people all the time.
"I …"
I think I fancy Draco Malfoy.
"I …"
I want to maybe go out on a date with Draco Malfoy.
"I have someone else in mind," she said bluntly, catching the slight widening of Oliver's eyes.
"Do you?" he smiled a little.
"Yes, and … and it hasn't happened, yet … I'm still waiting for something," she continued, "I don't know how long it's going to take, but I think I'm willing to wait. And I think it's incredibly unfair to you if I were to just string you along when I have someone else in mind."
Ouch.
"Ah," he sighed, still smiling that sad smile. "So no chance there?"
She shook her head.
"I'm afraid not," she smiled, "I think I have always liked him somewhere, deep inside. Even in school. And I am probably only realizing it now, hopefully not too late."
"It's never too late, Granger," he chuckled, "Better late than never, eh? Same goes to me, at least I asked you, didn't I? Otherwise I don't know how I would have gone on living thinking about the chance that I missed, again."
"I'm sorry, Oliver," she grabbed his hand and squeezed lightly, "You are a catch, don't worry. You were every girl's fantasy back in Hogwarts."
He laughed.
"So yeah …" she continued, but stopped abruptly, realizing how awkward everything was at that moment. She slowly took her hand back and glanced around.
"So …" Oliver said quietly, "Draco Malfoy, huh?"
Her eyes met his.
"Yeah," she sighed.
"All the best with that, Granger," he grinned, "Come on, buy me another round – it's the least you could do for my poor, broken heart."
"That I could do," she laughed and got up to get more drinks for them.
They went home that night, equally tipsy and equally stumbling into their own flats.
"Goodnight, Her-mee-oh-ninny," Oliver slurred from his door. "Till next time."
"Goodnight, Oliver," she replied, astounded at the fact that she was still very articulate.
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Advent had started.
It was during one of her lunch breaks that Hermione decided to stop by the pet shops that she noticed a few days ago on her way to St. Mungo's.
What she saw on the display this time, however, was not the usual black cat or a fluffy brown dog, but it was a white Norwegian Forest Cat – the replica of cat-Malfoy. It was looking as grumpy as Draco usually did, and that made Hermione wonder if this particular cat shared the same type of personality Malfoy did.
Probably not, Hermione smiled to herself. One in a million, that one.
She brought her hand to rest against the glass window, as if to touch the white cat. It caught its attention, looked at Hermione and yawned before regarding her with big grey eyes.
Funny, this one has Draco's eyes too.
Mentally reminding herself where to stop by after Draco got better, she scanned the area for the price for that cat.
"What, replacing me so soon, Granger?"
Hermione froze.
It was an all-too-familiar voice – a voice she hadn't heard in a long time since the shitstorm that was Umbridge's curse, and a voice that she was so used to hearing arguing good-naturedly with Ron and Harry, a voice that she was hoping to hear again –
She turned and caught the grey eyes of Draco Malfoy.
In the flesh. Bona fide.
All solid and … and human, with his usual pale skin and his platinum blond hair that had a light dusting of snow on it. He was also tall. So very tall. And so very handsome.
"Draco!" She gasped, dropping her jaw to the floor and never intending to pick it up ever again.
"Granger," he nodded, giving her such a beautiful smile that Hermione had to blink multiple times to make sure he was really, really there.
As if in a drunken haze, she stepped towards where Draco was standing, hand outstretched. Draco did nothing, he merely watched her with his hands in his pockets.
"You – you," she stuttered, and began to touch the leather of his black coat. As she dragged her hand down the coat, she unconsciously touched some part of his turtleneck sweater, and realized that from the heat that he was currently radiating, he was very real. And so very here.
"You, I – what?" she knitted her eyebrows and looked up at Draco's amused face.
"Why, I believe this is a moment I should cherish for the rest of my life, I have finally reduced the ever-articulate Hermione Granger into a stuttering mess," he commented, a light smile gracing his features, "How very unbecoming of you, Granger."
"No, I don't understand," she shook her head and closed her eyes for a few seconds before opening them again, "You were – how did they heal you so fast? I thought you weren't to wake up until a couple more days? And how did they manage to do it without harming you in the process, did Umbridge give them the cure?" A billion questions were coursing throughout her brain, "And how did you -"
"Oh, I couldn't give a fuck about that, Granger," Draco said briskly, fondly. He chuckled at the growing confusion on Hermione's face – the sound so low, so dark and so very sexy – before whisking her into his arms, gently positioning one hand on her face to cup her jaw, tilting it ever so slightly – and then he kissed her deeply.
Hermione processed something going off somewhere distant – something like a fire alarm or the alarm that goes off when someone steals something from a Muggle store – but then as soon as the thought formed in her brain, it went away just like that and instead she focused on the feel of Malfoy's lips on hers – how is that you realize that this is something you have been missing your whole life but never once had you experienced it? – and she focused on the way Malfoy smelled like … like … she thought that, bizarrely, he smelled like Christmas.
Not wishing to smile so hard and make kissing a technical challenge, she threw herself into the kiss and vaguely grumbling about the maddening sound of the alarm – will somebody bloody well shut that thing off –
And then suddenly, everything crumbled like a house of cards.
And her eyes opened to the familiar sight of her bedroom, her alarm clock beeping from her left. So that explains the beeping sound in the dream.
Annoyed, she flicked her wand towards it and it stopped. She threw herself back into her pillow and brushed her face, pensively aware of the fact that her lips still tingled from that dream-kiss.
With no familiar warmth at the back of her neck and a grumpy white cat communicating with her through his eyes to stop making the bed jiggle so much, she set about getting ready for work.
If dream-Malfoy's kiss that was earth-shattering, who's to say that real-Malfoy's won't have the same effect, if not better? Her mind supplied traitorously.
Well he has to get better for us to find out then, hmmm?
TBC!
Read and review, please!
Also, if you haven't figured it out yet, I intend to make this story a Christmas fic (it's probably 3 chapters away from the end). Because I love Christmas. I know it is only September, but I have already started listening to Christmas music! So it's high time you do the same hehe.