Disclaimer: I wish it were mine.
A/N: Want to know why this has taken me so long to write? Because I wrote the whole chapter out and then decided I hated it and started again. I don't think I've ever taken so long to update…I hate being a drifter. I'm sorry, guys! Also, thank you times a million for everyone who reviewed and read, subscribed and favorited.
And to my good friend Earl of Sandwich: he probably won't read this for a while, but I hope he's having lots of "fun" ;]
Draco:
Draco was making dinner for Hermione when it happened. She flew in the door, her cheeks rosy and smiling from ear to ear. His heart warmed to see her like that.
Putting the spoon in his hand down, he returned her smile.
"How was work?" It felt so…married to be asking that question.
"It was…I am…" she squeezed him a hug. "Draco, I am so happy."
He smoothed his hand down her hair, feeling the frizz and bump of her curls.
"Are you going to tell me why or should I guess?"
She pulled back and looked up at him. Her lips touched his lips. White teeth flashed.
"I'll tell you. But first, what's for dinner?"
He watched her take off her scarf and wrap it around the top of a chair. She placed her purple gloves in the pocket of her coat, which she took off and placed on the chair as well.
"Closet." He said.
"Hmm?" She looked up, still smiling.
"The coat goes in the closet, please." He didn't know why he wasn't smiling as well, but suddenly he felt as though he were on the tip of a precipice. His heart was racing.
"Oh." She mock-slapped her forehead. "Right, yeah."
As she walked away with her coat, he looked down into the pan of vegetables. The familiar smell of cooked broccoli and noodles made his stomach grumble.
Her hands wrapped around his waist from behind, surprising him.
"Mmm." She whispered into his back. "It smells good."
He relaxed instantly, his anxiety from before melting into the pan he was stirring.
"It's your favorite." He was pleased that he could give her that.
"I know." She reached on her toes, the floor creaking, and kissed the back of his neck. "I'll set the table."
-X-
When he was younger, a child even, (though he had been hesitant to think that what he had at home was a proper childhood) Draco used to have reoccurring nightmares that would end with him screaming at the top of his lungs. He never knew that he was screaming, or that he wasn't dreaming anymore, but his mother would suddenly be there, her perfumed scent surrounding him and telling him that it was ok now.
One time his mother was out of town with some friends. He and his father had never really gotten along, but nonetheless, they had dinner, talked about he upcoming year at Hogwarts, and then parted for separate areas of the Manor.
He was in the shower, feeling the residue oil slip from his hair into the drain, when a muffled sound came from in his bedroom.
Without thinking too much, he ran out, water still running and hastily pulled a towel around his waist. He barely made it without slipping but as soon as he threw open the door his heart stopped. If he hadn't had a good grip on his towel he would have dropped it.
"Father?"
Why was his father here? On the other side of the Manor? In his room, no less.
"Draco, what are you doing?" he hissed.
"I'm…I heard a noise…and…"
"And you thought you'd come and, what?"
"I don't know, father."
"Drop your towel and frighten them to death? Make them cover their eyes to give you privacy so you could sneak attack them?"
He winced but covered it up with what would soon be his characteristic smirk.
"Yes, father."
He turned and went back into the bathroom without thinking much of what he had been doing in there in the first place.
The shower had gotten lukewarm, but he stayed until it was cold. When he stepped out, he picked his towel up from the floor and wiped himself clean. He pulled his flannel pants on and padded back into his room.
His father was asleep in the armchair that Draco normally read in. He was torn between waking him up and asking him what he was doing there, and just leaving him to have the room to himself.
In the end, Draco slipped into his bed and fell into a deep sleep. As usual, he awoke with a nightmare and hands on his shoulders, rubbing rhythmically and shh noises in his ear. Mum's come home early, he thought, but there was no perfume and the hands were big and rough.
His eyes adjusted to the darkness and he saw that it was his father, hair pale in the moonlight and eyes filled with…worry?
"Shh. It's ok, Draco. It's ok."
When it was morning, there was no sign of his father. They never mentioned it and his mother never did either. But he never had another nightmare, not until the war started at least.
He wasn't sure why that was. It had no relevance on him as a child and he was mostly just glad that the nightmares were over. But maybe, at least to Draco, that had been a sign that his father loved him. That he wanted to be there for him, even if it wasn't a constant thing.
It had never happened again…this affection. Draco knew his father was proud of him. He knew he'd give him anything. It just seemed difficult to escape that pride.
Malfoy's were expected to uphold their positions in the Ministry. They were supposed to keep up with the Malfoy manner. It just wasn't what Draco wanted for himself anymore.
But just like the never ending nightmares, just like the screaming and the loss of sleep, it would take a big sign of affection to reassure him that it was ok to be himself. It was ok to let go.
Hermione
It seemed to Hermione that in her life there were only a few things she expected: a job, a family and death. Having cheated death a few times now, she realized that those things she had based her whole life upon no longer existed.
She was 23 years old this year. She had always thought, since she was 13, that she would be a Weasley by now and have a job at the Ministry with parties at night and information by day. She'd be weighing the pros and cons of a child-the responsibilities that came with getting a new pet maybe. She'd live in a house like the Burrow.
But instead she was dating Draco Malfoy, heir to the Malfoy fortune. She had a job at a Bookstore and her stomach was as flat and unready as bread without yeast.
It was snowing and the white flakes fell on the gates of Malfoy Manor. She wrapped her fingers around a black pole and rested her forehead on the space between two bars.
Poles, not bars. She wasn't imprisoned here.
A flicking sound came from behind her. She turned around quickly, slipping a little in the slush.
"Oh, Draco. It's you."
His wand was lighting the tip of a Black and Mild. He took a hit and passed it on to her. She smiled and placed it between her lips.
"Dinner is ready." He said.
"I figured." She exhaled smoke. The gray almost blended in with the thick air around them. Her breath was coming out in equally puffy hazes.
"You had something to tell me?" he asked. She nodded. "Should I be worried?"
"No." she smiled. "Don't be silly. It's happy news."
His eyes flicked down to her stomach.
"Happy news?"
"Oh! No. No, no." She laughed and folded her hands over her chest.
He took the cigarillo from her and took a couple hits. She could smell the light fruit that she associated with Ireland…with falling in love.
"I love you. So much Draco."
She couldn't help it. Sometimes she was so overwhelmed with emotions towards him that it was impossible to keep it in. Her eyes travelled over his broad shoulders that carried a thick but fitting blue jacket. The silver of his hair rested on the tips of his collar. He had just shaven this morning and his chin cut through the air. He was beautiful, his skin matching the snow. If there was ever a moment that she needed to reassure her she was making the right decision, this was it.
-X-
"Ginny!" Hermione squealed as she saw her friend enter the shop.
A flurry of red hair swirled around her face as she was embraced in a hug. She motioned to her boss who was behind the desk that she'd only be a minute.
"Hermione, you look so…perfect here." She smiled and Hermione was grateful for it.
"Yes, well, these books do flatter my complexion. And the lighting is supreme here."
Ginny laughed and lightly tapped her shoulder.
"Am I going to get you in trouble? I brought coffee." She reached behind her on the table and pulled two coffees in the air. She handed one to Hermione, who relished the immediate smell in her direction.
"Your mom makes the best coffee. The best."
"It's basically the only reason I even go home."
"Yeah, who needs time to catch up with their parents? Get coffee and leave!"
She winced after she said these words, thinking of her parents and then hoping that one-day she'd come to terms with their separate lives.
"So." Ginny said between sips.
"Oh, let's sit."
They sat in a corner that was lit by a dozen candles in the air. She liked to come here by herself sometimes and pretend she was still in Hogwarts.
"So." Ginny began again. "Christmas."
"Christmas." Hermione repeated. "A time of many gifts and snow storms."
"I think you should spend it with us."
"Is Draco invited?"
"Yes."
Hermione blinked before smiling. No doubt it wasn't Ron or George who had decided this was ok.
"Molly is an angel."
"Yes, well, it should be wonderful. Your ex arch-enemy, not boyfriend, my ex boyfriend/love of my life, my brothers and my parents, both of which who still are not over Fred being gone."
Hermione nodded jokingly.
"Typical family celebrations."
"Yes, yes."
"So is that all you came for?"
Ginny bit her lip and looked down.
"Not really." She admitted.
"Well…out with it. Go on."
"Hermione…a letter came for you today. It was sent to the Burrow by accident."
"By accident? How is that possible?"
"Well…you're last known address is your flat, which you sold, and not many people know you're living in the Malfoy Manor…so…since it's no secret you're a family friend…"
"Ah. Ok. Well do you have this letter?"
"Of course." Ginny reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a folded up envelope. Hermione reached for it but Ginny pulled back.
"What the-Ginny, come on. What's wrong? It's just a letter, I don't know why you're so nervous."
"Hermione, it's a Muggle letter."
"Oh."
The letter, which was currently being squashed in Ginny's grasp, did have a certain quality to it. A stamp in the corner, a piece of the front raised up from not being licked shut.
"Can I have it then?"
"You're not…I mean, what if it's about your parents? What if it's bad news and."?
"I'm not going to break again, Ginny."
She smiled thinly and handed the letter over. But it wasn't about her parents. She knew that immediately, without even opening it.
Her heart thudded behind her ribs. She was nervous/excited, a feeling she had only gotten the day before her first day of a new year of Hogwarts.
"Hermione Jane Granger,
We are pleased to announce that you have been accepted into the University of California…"
She looked up and Ginny was peering over her shoulder. When they were facing each other, her forehead was crinkled in confusion.
"You have a lot of explaining to do, Miss."
-X-
It had been an accident, really. She had applied at the end of last year while she was still in Ireland. Truly it had been Madge's idea.
They had been sitting on the softest bed of grass in the National Park, talking about their lives when Hermione had admitted she always wanted to be in archeology.
"Archeology…what is it's purpose?"
"To learn more about where we came from, I suppose."
"But we have magic for that."
"And yet, for me at least, there hasn't always been magic. I had so many questions as a little girl." She picked up a handful of grass and let it scatter in the wind. "I'd like to answer some of them."
But of course it hadn't been easy. Of course not. For one thing, she didn't have transcripts. For another, she didn't know what school she'd go to. And so, before she had met Draco, while she was barely moving and living and breathing, Hermione spent her time in a Muggle library in Ireland, using an old cranked up Internet connection to fuel her curiosity. And when she had found a University-in America, no less!-she was stuck. There were no answers for this problem. Until she hesitantly went to Arthur Weasley.
For no other reason than he had connections with the Ministry, Hermione had a fake transcript. It wasn't as hard as she thought it would be. A little polyjuice potion to get some signatures and recommendation letters, a little lying here and there…it was a long shot. She barely remembered it, in the end. The letter was just as much of a surprise to her as it was to Ginny.
But here it was, all the same.
And here she was, explaining to Ginny and trying her best to explain it to herself.
At the end of it, Ginny just shook her head and smiled.
"What's so funny, Gin?"
"You're sitting here, trying to convince me of all of this and yet…you already have your mind made up. It's already done."
Hermione clutched the envelope tightly in her hands. Yes. Her mind was made up.
Draco:
She looked out at him from above her plate. She was nearly finished, but he had been done minutes ago. She was contemplative and quiet that night, but not in a sad way. In a Hermione way.
He found himself reaching across the table and taking her hand in his. He squeezed and made her catch his gaze.
He saw himself in her pupils, the figure dilating and swirling.
"You're leaving me." He said simply.
She squeezed back and nodded.
"Yes."
But it didn't hurt as much as he thought it would. A couple days ago, in the snow, with her eyes cast up at him, he thought his world would end. But she wasn't his world, not really. She simply lived in it.
And he wanted her here. Draco Malfoy, pureblood and heir to a fortune, wanted her here forever. But they were young. And she was like a butterfly that everyone kept trying to pin to a corkboard. He wouldn't join in. He wouldn't hurt her. He'd let her go.
She sat there, forgetting her food, and talked for hours. He listened. And when it was all over…when it was just them at a table, both of their hands holding each other's, there was a peace between them. There was a still but musty air, like a cracker jar that had just been opened after being closed for years and years.
There were memories swirling around in his head. Her, stumbling around their first year on the train, trying to find Neville's toad while his lip curled in disgust. Him, calling her a Mudblood on the Quidditch field their second year and meaning it with all of his heart. Their third year when she punched him in the face while Potter and Weasley laughed in their elbows. Fourth year, when he was turned into a ferret by the fake Mad Eye Moody, being humiliated and for the first time feeling…disgraced that she was watching. There was that time he saw her at the Yule Ball, and for a minute he lost his breath. For only a minute. He saw them arguing and sparring, heated and hating each other so much.
But he also saw them loving each other. He saw her jumping on his bed and singing songs that he didn't know the words to. He saw her wrapping a towel on her head after the shower, pretending to be a cobra dancer and seducing him while still naked. He saw himself, buying her flowers for the table and making her dinner. He remembered welcoming her into his home and wanting her to never leave. To curl up in his blankets and leave her scent for him to use when she was gone.
But these things, these moments, they were just that. And though they were incredible, though they had changed his life and left him as beautiful as he could possibly be, they would fade without new ones to replace them. That was how it worked.
So, no, he didn't want to let her go. He wasn't ready. But can anyone, anywhere, really and truly be ready for a thing like that? Could you let go of someone that only made you better?
He released her hands and leaned over the table. Their lips touched and when he pulled away he answered himself out loud.
"For you, anything."
A/N: There is still one chapter left and it's almost finished! It's also very short, but I think it's necessary. Bear with me, guys.