~ The Past ~

"What do you mean you're going to lunch with Malfoy?"
If she thought Draco was angry the week previous, it was nothing compared to the absolute ferocity to which Ron was presently speaking to her with. His fists were balled, his ears were scarlet, he was shaking.

They were standing just short of St. Mungo's brewing facility, Draco and Ford inside of it. Working intensely so Draco could achieve his license requirements to be a full-fledged Junior Potioneer. Requirements demanded a variety: one vial of cure disease, one vial of healing injury, one vial that changed the nature of the consumer (like Felix Felicis), and one vial that could alter the consumer's mind or body (such as Veritaserum).

Needless to say, the apprentice put on hold was not impressed.

"I…I had to re-process some of his prior files to be up to standard with the newer legislation. We had to have a few chats about the past few years and I handed the finalized version to him now. He just…asked me. Said he wants to formally apologize."

A trite laugh emerged form Ron's mouth, both in disbelief and ridicule.
"You must be joking. If that were the case, why wouldn't he apologize to me too? Or Harry? He wants to either get into your good graces, knowing that we'd both never talk to him. Or, or sleep with you."

"Ron."

"Hermione! I saw they way he looked at you when all those stupid reporters were swarming him in the Ministry foyer. I know you were just trying to be nice, but that photo Rita Skeeter printed…ugh."
Scraping tufts of hair in his fingertips, she exhaled.

"Look, Ron. We were two of ten seventh years at Hogwarts. We…talked sometimes. Always mundane, but I think he's probably realized that treating people like they're dirt isn't worth it."
His face contorted into something ugly. With no rehearsal to their plan, she felt both blessed that their performance was believable, and cursed because of the consequence. She was lying through her teeth. Desperately wanted to snog Ron gently like he had with her just a mere week ago to assuage his suspicions, her nails bit into her hands as she fought the urge.

Damn, she thought. Ever since Draco had stormed into her apartment, she had come to the realization that he was absolutely right about playing the angle of infatuation. She had become so absorbed in what the prophecy's true dealings were and how best to shoehorn their partnership to be any measure of believable that she had forgotten Ron even existed. Forgot how much she actually wanted their love to work. Forgot how much she wanted to tell him why she had to do this.

But she couldn't.

"He seems…different," she continued. "Look, I honestly feel a bit sorry for him, alright? He saved a man's life and half the world is treating him like he doesn't deserve a second chance."

Draco's one moment of humanity - crying - wouldn't save a lifetime of vileness, but she had to try to stop hating him. She had to try and at least be friends. Because right now he either going to sink or swim.

The initial front-page story had caused a flurry of distressed and concerned expert and amateur wizards to judge Draco on a national platform. Some disbelieving that Draco could produce such a good healing potion, thinking Lucius to have procured it and wanting to frame it so that the Malfoy's could re-enter society again. Others simply thought that allowing him in the ministry was unwarranted.

"Sorry for that idiot? Are you for real, Hermione? He's taking my job!" he snarled back. "I was supposed to be Ford's apprentice, not him! I've worked so hard for three years and just because I can't brew one stupid Wolfsbane potion I can't be a medicinal Healer. It's maddening."

Struck with this, guilt consumed her whole body, flooding her stomach and causing her to want to burst into speech that this was all a ruse. Instead, she went into recovery mode:
"Ron, you're at an advanced level of healing in all other wards at twenty-two. Potion-making is an exact science and you've always been intuitive over logical. That's why you make such a good healer. When you go and help sick children, when you talk to parents, when you talk to daughters and sons of the elderly. You're…gentle. You're personable. That's why people ask for you by name when they come in with their family. It's something I have always admired about you. Draco is not like you. Draco has always had a natural talent for potions, he even beat me. That's not important. You will get there on your own time. It's not as if Ford won't have time for you after he is finished with Draco. Don't forget how confident you've become, don't forget how valued and important you are too. This is just fifteen minutes of fame."

She meant all the syllables she said, and though he relaxed, and came to embrace her, she dodged his lips as they landed on her cheeks, not her lips.

"I have to go, Ron. I'll…see you later."
She chose not to internalize the way his shoulders slumped as she click-clacked away on her heels.

{}

The woman emerging onto the rooftop to be his company was more beautiful than he wanted her to be. More poised than he knew to be true.

Fingers worked to the bone, Draco was tired.
Head buzzing with the possibilities of the outcome from him being seen on a date with Hermione, Draco was anxious.

How could she waltz in here, wearing that soft gray dress to complement her even more softened curls? How could she make such an effort for the façade of something that wasn't real? And why hadn't she caved yet and told Potter or Weasley moreover, about their arrangement?

Still, she seemed happy as she sat next down, disguising very well the flicker of her eyes to the sides, seeing if anyone was watching.
Swallowing hard, Draco remembered himself, choosing to regard her in a quiet reverie, grinning like he meant it.

Magnus, Ramona's second hand, was five tables away, sitting solo with espresso. Nearly seven feet tall and with a striking permanent burn on his left forearm, the man was impossible to miss. Most of which was attributed to his almost clear irises. Draco, though performing well in his role, had been coached last night by Salvatore himself. The thug was meant to 'ensure' that everything ran smoothly. He should get a second opinion as to whether or not the Brightest Witch was into him the way he was claiming.

Unbeknownst to Magnus, Draco had sneakily summoned Muffliatio in his direction, so they couldn't be heard.
"Hi, Draco. How are you?" she asked, after ordering a chardonnay from their waiter.

"I'm fine, Hermione," he replied, noticing her reaction to not being dubbed 'Granger' for the umpteenth time. "You don't have to be overly fake right now. I've cast a silencing charm to Magnus, who is the large man in the corner. We can talk about things."

She smiled, a smile Draco knew to be fake.
"And pray tell, do you know why he's here spying on us? This is a very nice restaurant by the way."

Moving her head anywhere but at the watchdog, she regarded the ivy-covered pillars, the marble floors and stone tables, so very Roman-esque. Hermione had heard of this place before, nearly 100 pounds a plate, 25 galleons. The perfect buttery bread and olive appetizer a clear sign she knew this was going to be a delicious meal with difficult conversation.
If it was anyone else, she would feel much too embarrassed to accept such a swanky first date.

Unable to read his face, seemingly puzzled, he grabbed his wine, sipping too small a sip than he normally would.
"It was recommended to me by one of the orderly's, I was told wizards and muggles frequent it. Figured if I was going to take you anywhere, that everyone else would view it as courteous. And you're welcome."

"I didn't thank you. And you didn't answer my question."

He bit down on his teeth, continuing on.
"Well Hermione, when you came to the Spiny Serpent and were incredibly forthright about touching me and flirting with me, Salvatore was happy but…. disbelieving. I think at this point in time he is convinced that you were the one manipulating me with sex for potions. Because if you truly were 'in love' as I claimed to him, when I am now somewhat a hero, your reaction should've been more…. persistent. After all, both Astoria and Daphne Greengrass have approached me. Publicly, Doris Crockford approached me and tried to set me up with her granddaughter. Even that beautiful witch that works at the potion shop in Diagon Alley has approached me to date. Yet, I'm free. I've said thanks, but no thanks"

She thought he might even be relishing in the fact he was desirable enough to reject people now.
"So…you're saying he doesn't believe you."

"I'm simply saying that he wants me to put my money where my mouth is. Hermione, he has people prying into both our lives. We've been afraid to get caught together in a compromising way, and thus I've only seen you in the past two weeks when you've had to serve me papers. He's seen you with Potter, he's seen you with Wesley. You've been out for food a few times with Ginny. It just seems odd that when I am in the spotlight, and favorable, you'd shy away. Luckily, I have told Salvatore that I was busy with Ford, and I still am making the mendacium. I told him that my relationship with your friends is tenuous at best, and you must be scared of the backlash. But we can't stall much longer."

Heart beating fast, she plopped an olive into her mouth, taking a swift chug of her just delivered drink.
"What is it you want me to do?"

"I hate to tell you this, but…you need to make it clear you're interested in me. If I make the first move, it makes me look like I'm pursuing you, and I need – no, Salvatore needs it to look like you want me."

"That I want you…"
She let it out in a whisper. She was beginning to lose her cool.
In what universe would she, Hermione Granger, ever want him? And he her?

"Look, I know what you're thinking; but I think I know what we can do."

"And what, pray tell is that?"

"As much as I understand that you, under normal circumstances, would never want to date me, let alone be seen as having a sexual relationship with me, unfortunately you're going to have to allude to this – publicly." Grimacing at his words, he chose to keep his face stoic, "But in the past, you have hated me. Whether or not you still do, it doesn't matter now, this is bigger than that. If Salvatore thinks you were manipulating me, we need to get him to think that it's simply a matter of shame for you."

"I'm not following."

"Salvatore's private party is next weekend."

"Yes, I know. I haven't figured out yet how to tell everyone…"
It took every fiber of her being not to start stress crying. How could she possibly convince her friends that she hadn't gone off the deep end? Dating him?

"He presented himself to my parents and invitees as Nott's uncle – "

"Wait, didn't you say that Nott's uncle owns the shop front in – "

"Hush," he interrupted, pointing to the waiter who was bringing their first course meal; pasta primavera. "Yes, but everyone believes him to be dead. Nott has no remaining family left alive, nobody can disprove this since all the ministry records have been torched since Umbridge was Undersecretary."

"Why would he pretend that?'

"Because Nott's mother's side of the family was well-respected. They were not Death Eaters and are wealthy. He's pretending to be someone else to side-step into the high ranks of wizard community. Non-criminals. Salvatore Sangrey is not a name the common person would know. Nobody really knows who he truly is, his real surname is probably not even Sangrey. Nott doesn't know anything about him, trust me, I have asked more than once when he's been five beers in, and hes's the only person I know I could get away with asking questions."

"I still don't understand what this has to do with anything."

"Hermione, when you come to the party as my guest, if we can find a spot to sit down, away from them so they can't hear us but close enough to the right people see; we kiss."

"We kiss…"
Draco didn't look any more thrilled than she felt, as she examined the curve of his lips, and flickered her gaze back up; eyes cloudy, difficult to read.

"He needs to know that you desire me enough to a) come to a party with me, and b) that you are intimate with me. Right now, he's only going on my word, and so far, it's been unproven."

Damn. He's right. Before she had time to process, the second time in so many days she felt damned by this man.
"I suppose…that makes sense. There will be consequences to be sure from everyone I hold dear. I guess we can come up with reasons for me to like you, and you me in time."

"Yes." Hermione saw a thought enter his mind, though he promptly shook it away. "The only thing is…never mind."

"No, what?"
Snapping out of her thoughts, remembering where she was, she grabbed his arm gently, running a finger in circles to soothe him. Something their onlooker would be seeing. He sighed.

"I've never kissed a girl before. More importantly…I've never kissed you. You made it seem like you were very attracted to me at the bar…I'm not sure how believable this is going to be in actuality."

Though reprehensible, Draco was still…quite attractive, she had to admit. Maturity had treated him well, but still, he was never ugly at school. Now he had his well-tended hair and clear skin. Combined with a perfectly adequate body, this made him someone she wouldn't kick out of bed. How could this be true?
"You've never kissed anyone before?"

"That's not what I said."
Taking another taste of his drink, his expression remained the same.

"Oh. Oh."

"I've spent this conversation telling you what I think we should do, and that's because I have interacted with everyone you haven't on a more personal level. Now I need you to tell me what you think, because you formulated this plan. "

"I feel like you're criticizing me…"
She'd never seen him with any girl. Pansy Parkinson never talked about their relationship and she bragged about everything. But she'd never seen him with boy either….
Her mind was racing.

"I'm not, actually. Your plan thus far has worked splendidly. And though I was absolutely livid about it initially, I was angrier when I came to see you because of the information I was given, the very power of it poisoning me. I can't see another angle for us to play to get you involved."

Looking to the beautifully painted plate that she had uncovered after picking at her food, she twirled her fork wistfully, knowing the answer to what he was asking.
"Well, the only answer I have is that we're going to have to practice kissing, Draco."

"Practice?"

"What are you doing tomorrow night at 7?"

{}

She had been toiling all day at work about what the fuck she was going to do about dealing with this. Ron had visited her in her office at lunch, wanting to reschedule the date she had cancelled because she was "busy".

"Come out tonight, let's just go have a quick drink. I miss you."

The words pierced her heart, her wallowing answer being 'I can't, I have something else to attend to,' causing his bright demeanor to deflate. His insistence on her telling him with whom she was engaged made it all the worse when she decided she had to cut him off from her for the time being.

"You're going to dinner with Malfoy? Hermione, why – you know what - fuck it. I hope you enjoy him treating you as lesser than."

Knowing the next day or two held for her inquisitions on her sanity and life choices, more daunting was that she had to kiss someone she still barely trusted, and quite frankly thought was still emotionally disturbed. Nobody who had to endure the wrath and instruction of Voldemort was okay in a mere five year. She wasn't still, and she had truly only seen him once.

The thing that fazed her most was whether Draco would even be able to kiss her. Felt immaculately foolish that she hadn't considered that he might not be straight. And worried that she had to ask.

Presently, she had been stalling answering her door, whiskey already poured for him, her own hand with a glass herself. Opening it up after two minutes felt too long, Draco was standing behind it with an unreadable expression.

"Are you alright?"
Noticing the readied alcohol, he smirked, taking it gently from her and setting himself down on her suede chaise lounge.

"I am alright," he replied, gesturing for her to sit across from him, spreading his legs out and leaning back to stare at her ceiling. "Magnus seemed contented at our display at the restaurant. Salvatore is under the impression that I am here at your house to have a more 'intimate' date. That you're cooking me dinner, you offered."

"So…everything is going ok?"

"It is."

"Then…you're perhaps uneasy because of what you're actually here for."

"Precisely," he exhaled, moving his gaze to hers, seeing her rigid, hands grasping her glass tightly. "I suspect you're curious about what I revealed to you yesterday, I assume you want to know more."

She felt her cheeks blushing red.
"I mean, of course I do. If you have any questions for me, I'd be happy to acquiesce."

A small chuckle emitting from his throat, as he bit his bottom lip.
"I know you have had an on and off relationship with Weasley. I know that you had to put it on hold going to Hogwarts again, and working your ass off to get to where you are. I am fully aware that you probably have had sex with him many times, but I think I'd probably know if you were official because Rita Skeeter is an unrepentant snake. I don't imagine there's much more to tell."

Considering telling him about Neville, it seemed rather unnecessary, her red going to scarlet from the idea he was picturing them together. More despaired she felt, than angry, that she had to stop their half-hearted attempt at love.
"No, there isn't…are you going to tell me who you have been - or maybe still are - seeing?" And when she saw the slight sneer appear, "You really don't have to. As you said, whether we like each other is moot. You don't have to tell me private info."

"No, I don't. But I will, if only because I think opening to you will allow you a bit of faith in my word. And though I said I don't think there could have been a different means to angle this, if you understand me a bit better, perhaps this will be easier to…navigate."
Not realizing she had been holding her breath, it was the third time in so many weeks that she had to hear him retell a story of events. Hoping there was no darkness involved.
"About three years ago, I was invited to a party at the Greengrass household. I felt…out of place. I suppose graduation from Hogwarts properly, when I didn't have to go, made my name softened with the pureblood ilk. When I arrived, it seemed to basically be 19-year-old debauchery, in that it was all my Slytherin peers, even Nott, drinking in excess."

This wasn't how she had expected this to go.
"I had one too many, as did everyone else. Daphne had been talking to me in both drunken and sober excess, and back of my mind I naively thought that it was great I could maybe have a friend again. Nobody, not even Pansy, seemed entirely keen on catching up, you see."

Somewhere she didn't want to explore in her mind, she might've felt a little bit sad for him.

"Instead, I found myself in her room, we had been smoking on her balcony. Started feeling me up while I tried to stop the spins as I sat on her bed. Tried to stick her tongue down my throat." He had no tell on his face right now. "I had never had any relationship in school or elsewhere before. I didn't want my first kiss to be her, she is gossipy at best and conniving about what she has done or knows at worst. She once coerced Goyle into breaking a rule for her and then exposed him to Snape so she would be off the hook… Reminds me too much of me."

His face had gone dark.

"And the only person around to hear me say 'no' …was Blaise."

"Blaise?"
She hadn't meant it to escape her so incredulously. Blaise Zabini was particular and prejudiced, she had known him to date only girls. How could Blaise be tied to a soiled Slytherin family with those standards? Now he was married to a woman from a family in the Dubai hotel business. The Malfoys whole estate would be play money to them.

"Yeah. Up until this point…well," he hesitated, wherein she stopped contemplating and gazed at him, "I honestly had never given much thought to if I fancied boy or girls. Nobody showed interest in me for romance, I was a giant prick, so I don't blame anyone in retrospect."

He said this so matter-of-factly.
"Can I ask – you seem…I hesitate to say self-aware, and I hesitate to say self-deprecating. Why are you talking to me this way?"

"In what way?"

"Like we're…" and she realized she was going to say 'friends'. And she realized she would seem like the meanest person if she finished that sentence. "…nevermind."

"This must be difficult for you."
Flickering her eyes to his, he was clutching his cup gently, head tilted.

"What do you mean?"

"Before a month ago I was a bad memory. I treated you like shit at school, and I was a coward during the war. My father, my aunt…they were horrible too. Can't really imagine what you must be feeling. I know I felt a belly full of dread even thinking of contacting you before all of this."

A bad memory.
Flashes of 'mudblood'; of the time he made her teeth grow with a hex, then Snape held no empathy; of the time he cornered them in the Room of Requirement ran through her brain. But then…of the times she slapped him, the time Harry and Ron hexed him and his lackeys into jelly, and the fact he had to plot to kill Voldemort all alone. The fact that he told Bellatrix and Lucius, his own aunt and father, that he didn't recognize Harry. He was a bad memory, but they were just kids.

"It's not difficult. It's simply…strange. Having you be your authentic self is weird."

"Thanks."
It was venomous…and then suddenly he laughed. His smile, not smirk, really was what threw her for a loop most.

"Shall you continue?"

"Sure." The remains of the whiskey was finished. "Blaise stopped Daphne. She apologized in the morning and I figured it best to say I was fine and cut my losses. I didn't thank Blaise properly because I had been positively pissed. Might've been embarrassed. I decided to go over to his home and do it in person. It was odd...Blaise talked to me like never before. He was having a rough time having been dumped by his billionaire boyfriend and I think, besides that ego blow, he was feeling lonely. Because when I came over, he was void of all the usually holier than thou comments and bragging."

"So, is he…?"

"Gay? He's bi. He's married now to a woman, I guess that's why you're asking."

"And are you…?" she couldn't finish this aloud, and she didn't quite know why.

"Gay? I mean…I suppose I am. I just…I don't really have any experience with women so how could I know for certain?"

"Did you and Blaise…were you intimate then?"
There was that full, rich laugh again.

"So proper you are," he shook his head. It was unnerving. She hoped his loose lips were due to the drink. Little did she know he hoped so too. "We made out for quite a while and I sucked his dick, Granger."
And when Draco said Granger, it didn't pierce her like it used to. It felt like a nickname. It felt…familiar.

"So, you didn't have sex?"

"Sex doesn't have to mean intercourse, does it? We met up a few times to fool around, but he basically told me he just thought I was attractive and that I'd always been interesting, whatever that even means. But he had no interest or business in investing in us. And I didn't want to with him, so we parted ways. Shortly before I moved out, actually."

"Are you nervous then? About having to kiss me? Do you ever…think about girls?"
Never in a thousand years would Hermione think this would be a conversation to be had between them. Between most people, really.

"I have. And I do. It's just never been a priority for me. Love in my life…it's always been with too many rules, too many consequences. Unconditional doesn't feel like it was meant for me. I love my mother with my whole heart but sometimes even she says or does something to allow myself not to believe in the beauty of falling for someone."

"And…and your dad?"

The casual smile he wore had now been whittled down to a frown.
"My dad has never been a dad. Always, he's been my father."
He needn't have said more.

"Are you nervous... I mean, of course you're nervous about all this. But do you think we can do this? Do you think…this is going to work? Our plan?"

Draco wasn't used to seeing this girl, this woman, in any measure of vulnerable light. So assured, so knowledgeable, so ready. If he were braver, maybe he could've even admitted to her he liked hearing it.
"Honestly? I can't have too much stock that anything will pan out, that's much too optimistic for me. Up until a month ago, I really thought I was fucked. Was thinking about getting myself murdered by telling anyone about my prophecy to end things. But with you…you helped Potter defeat Voldemort. You're - you're very intelligent. I'd like to think I am as well. I think we can do this, or at the very least….do this for longer."

"Do you want to try what you came here for?"

There was no sense in wasting precious time. It was of the essence.

"I think I might need a refill. And then, perhaps, yes."