A/N: Thank you for all your kind words! My family and I are fine. We were luckier compared to a lot of others who got hit during the hurricane. We just have some unexpected extra expenses we have to pay off now, but we'll get by. We always do. :)
In another note, did I ever mention during my hiatus I visited London? I did my first big girl solo trip and stayed there for a week. I wish I could have stayed longer, but I think I would have ran out of money if I did. xD I got the opportunity to visit WB Studio Harry Potter in Leavesden, where they showcased a lot of the real props that were used during filming. I purchased the VIP pass, since I figured it was a once in a lifetime thing, and got to take pictures by the grand hall door and had my own personal tour guide! Aside from that, I walked by (accidentally) the Cursed Child theatre, but the tickets were way out of my price range. I also visited the MinaLima art shop. They were the masterminds behind all the poster designs, signs, WWW candy designs, etc.! I purchased a limited edition Slytherin print!
I do plan on going back one day. I hope it'll be sooner than later. ^^ The wanderlust is hittin' me so hard now that I'm writing again, haha.
Edit: Because I forgot to mention it earlier -thank you Mr. Benzedrine for helping me with my edits and being a (as usual) wonderful friend!
He caught a glimpse of the insufferable redhead as the door closed on his face. Weasley's jaw was slack, mouth agape, and eyes so wide they threatened to bulge out. The pitiful man was completely dumbfounded, unable to respond to Hermione's uncharacteristic action.
The whole ordeal was quite satisfying to watch, even if the show was by total accident. Draco definitely wouldn't mind paying some galleons to watch this performance again.
At the very last few seconds, their eyes met, and the blonde's reaction couldn't be anymore instinctive as he gave the pathetic excuse of a Weasel his signature, haughty smirk.
When the door finally slammed shut, the witched turned around and walked towards her chair, completely unaware of Draco, who stood in front of the fireplace. In fact, he was surprised neither of the two parties noticed his arrival during their argument. Using the Floo wasn't exactly the quietest transportation.
He watched her take a seat, heaving a pained sigh. Her eyes were shut as her fingers made an attempt to massage her head from the impending headache. Odd, though. Draco always assumed severing friendship with the annoying Weasley would have been equivalent to removing a tumor. Shouldn't she be celebrating?
Maybe it wasn't the best time for him to be here. Perhaps he should have turned around and gone back through the Floo or even Apparate, but his stupid mouth reacted before he was able to fully process his next plan of action.
"Is this a bad time?"
Granger snapped her head around, confusion written all over her face. "Wha-Dra-Malfoy?" she looked around the room. "When did you get here?"
Draco smirked again. "Somewhere between blessing a new girl's soul and 'please get the fuck out.'" The wizard couldn't help but smile at the last phrase, never once hearing his long time rival utter a single cuss word.
"Oh, no!" She hid her face behind her hands, absolutely embarrassed over Draco's witness in her friendship breakup with Ron.
"Please-" he waved it off. "Christmas came early for me."
xxx
The two of them soon retired back to her flat.
It was his first time visiting, and the place was very much how he expected.
Granger lived quite humbly, even though he was sure the woman made more than enough through just the Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes business for her to live a lavish lifestyle. Her apartment was minimalistic, and the decor was mostly white - probably easier for her to spot all the dirty specks around so she could clean it immediately.
He chuckled at the thought of a frantic witch desperately trying to clean her white walls from all the ashes flying out from the fireplace due to Floo visits. It certainly wouldn't be out of character.
She gave Draco a quick tour of her flat. Granger lived in a studio apartment -one room: a living room, kitchen, and washroom. It was small, but since she was on her own, and hardly ever at home, it was probably enough space for her.
The witch ended the tour back in the living room. Two cups of hot black tea were set on the coffee table. Granger must have prepped it while showing him around. He took the beverage, blowing on the surface gently. "Thank you," he muttered.
"A host's job," she joked, quickly throwing handful of cat toys into a woven basket next to the couch. While her own decorations were scarce, there was no shortage of cat toys. It was probably the only noticeable mess in her home.
Oh, what was his name again?
Crookshanks?
As if the cat was able to read Draco's thoughts, the feline opened his eyes and blinked lazily at the wizard, who sat on the other side of the coffee table. They stared at each other for a few moments, but once Draco blinked, Crookshanks lost interest and went back to his slumber, curling up into an even tighter ball, snuggling warmly against the witch's lap.
He watched her hand caress the fluffy cat's fur, lost in thought.
Silence weighed heavily on the pair of them; the only sound was the content purr of the kneazel hybrid. When he was finally fed up with the oddly quiet Granger, whose thoughts were obviously on today's earlier event, he spoke up. "I'm still having trouble comprehending why you were ever with him." Draco took a sip of the Earl Grey.
The witch cleared her throat, shifting ever so slightly on her sofa. "Well, after the war, Harry had Ginny. I Obliviated my parents to keep them safe from the Death Eaters." She glanced away from Draco, blinking a few times as if to almost will away unshed tears. "I hadn't cured them yet, so I didn't have anyone...and Ron? Ron was there, and we kind of just...clicked." Granger pulled her hand away from the cat and fumbled around with the hem of her blouse. It was clear she was uncomfortable talking, but she still continued on. "We were best friends, and...it was convenient. Some part of me thought we would be able to work out our differences. Harry and Ginny did, and look where they are now -the perfect couple."
The way she spoke with her voice barely above a whisper, reminiscing over the past, sent a dull pain circling deep in his chest. He mentally waved it away, ignoring the red, blaring signal of jealously. Or was it empathy? What was it that triggered this emotion, anyway? The feeling was something entirely foreign, and hearing her talk about her former lover made the unwarranted affliction swell more than he appreciated.
"Uhm..." He started and took another sip of his tea - a nice way to fill the silence as he tried to figure out what to say. "Who would have known the famous Hermione Granger would ever just settle for..." he paused, glancing up from his drink. "...Convenience?"
"I was young and foolish. Times were different," Granger answered almost immediately after his comment, like it was something she'd told herself time and time again. "I guess I was looking for love in the wrong place." She stared down at her slumbering cat, biting her lower lip as she contemplated her words.
Despite her eventful day and his comparably uneventful one, the evening passed quickly. The sun's dark orange rays glared through the windows of her living room for a few more minutes before it ducked away behind the dark silhouettes of neighboring buildings.
"You wouldn't be the first person to look for love in the wrong place."
Since her comment on Death Eaters, she managed to find interest elsewhere, much like the one time they met at Cattermole's office after their accidental kiss. However, when his silvery grey orbs flitted over towards her, he was greeted by her warm brown eyes.
"Something I said?"
A shy smile danced across her pink lips for a moment. "Did I just hear the perfect Draco Malfoy admit to making a - dare I say it - mistake?"
"I do believe having you help me with my business ventures is an admission all on its own," Draco quipped, rolling his eyes at her comment.
"Oh, you prat!"
"Know-it-all," he scoffed.
When they were in school, any sort of nicknames given to Granger would have meant that person had some sort of deathwish. She'd remember all the names, and trust Draco, she wouldn't let them go. But given their recent history with each other and in this situation, feelings between them were much different, like there was a mutual respect between the two of them.
Who would have ever imagined Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger sitting in her flat, drinking tea? The younger him would have blown a lid, accusing the older Draco of cohorting with the enemy. It would have been an entertainment all on its own.
I wonder how a younger Granger would react...
Though his intentions to see Granger earlier on in the day was for, more or less, 'heist' related reasons, Draco decided to put a pin in it for the time being, given her stressful day. It was the least he could do.
"Do you fancy dinner?" He finished off his tea with a barely audible slurp at the end then set the porcelain cup onto the coffee table, though, not without first placing a coaster underneath it. Draco made the mistake at her office once and received an earful from the naggy witch, claiming that even though it was a hot drink, droplets could still roll down the drinkware and onto the table, there in fact, dirtying it.
"I have food in the fridge," she responded, waving her wand, sending the emptied teacups into the kitchen.
"Fridge?"
"Yes - it's a muggle icebox."
He squinted at her, confused, though he didn't verbally admit it to her. She chortled, probably aware of his expression and having had explained it several times to different wizards who had no experience with muggle contraptions.
"Let me show you." Granger stood from her sofa, waking up her cat, who quickly jumped and scurried off into her bedroom.
The two of them made way into the kitchen, and she pointed to the quietly humming rectangular box the size of a young Gregory Goyle. Draco stepped forward and opened the bottom compartment. The container was cool and brightly lit. Inside were an assortment of fruits, vegetables, meats, and drinks, all arranged neatly.
"Fridge. It's short for refrigerator. It's a noun; the word origin is formed from the Latin roots re- and frigus which means 'to cool again.'"
"What?" he snapped his head towards her, a bewildered look written on his face. "How do you know these things?" What a random fact. Whatever. "Does this...fur-ridge...prepare food for you, too?"
"No, it just keeps things cool and fresh, though not permanently. I still have to prepare my meals."
"Yourself?" Draco closed the bottom door and opened the top on. He shuddered a little when the freezing trapped air in the tinier box came flying out, blasting him in the face. "Where is your elf?" When she didn't respond, he turned back to look at her again. She was giving him the stink eye. "What?"
"I don't use elves. It's slavery."
"What-?" He looked take aback for a moment before remembering her petition throughout Hogwarts during their fourth year. "Oh, spew."
"No, S.P.E.W., it stands for Society for the-"
"-for the Promotion of Elvish Welfare."
It was Granger's turn to look surprised. "I'm surprised you know the cause."
He shut the tiny door. The top part should be called a frosty; it was so cold, ice cubes could form in there. "Well, I'll admit, it was kind of hard to ignore your desperate attempts to free elves. We had an ongoing bet-" Draco stopped himself before his words started digging a hole for him and cleared his throat, quickly changing the subject. "Why don't we go out for dinner, anyway? It's on me."
Granger pursed her lips and further narrowed her eyes, knowing full well where his earlier comment was going to go, but chose not to hold onto the petty past. "Knowing you, it's going to be some seven course meal."
"How dare you?" he commented, though a smile was stretched across his face. "What am I - made of money?"
Though the hours already extended well into the evening, the night was still young for the residents of London. Much to Hermione's surprise, the wizard joined her on her impromptu adventure out into the muggle society.
If she was to be truthful, she hoped mentioning going out to where muggles thrived would deter him from spending more time with her. Hermione hoped for an early night - curl up in the tub with a good book and a very small glass of wine. But, even though her day ended up being longer than expected, mostly due to the fiasco she had with Ron...being with Malfoy for the latter half of the day wasn't bad at all.
It was different.
Hermione decided to take him to a popular night market location;, namely a shipping container structure, called Pop Brixton. It'd been awhile since she last stepped foot into the boisterous destination. Last she counted, there were over sixteen food stalls, several dine-in restaurants, and even a few bars.
"Are there always this many muggles about?" The former Slytherin stood out like a sore thumb. His appearance didn't make him stand out all too much - he was just a few centimetres taller than the average male, and thankfully, with London being one of the forerunners in the fashion industry, many other men and women of the same (dyed) platinum hair that he wore. Rather, it was his confident demeanor which made others turn to look at him, even if it was just a passing glance. There was just something about Malfoy, something even Hermione couldn't put a finger on.
"Yes?" Her brows furrowed at his question and wondered just how oblivious he was of the muggle world. Hogwarts offered Muggle Studies as an elective, which Hermione took her third year, but to her recollection, Malfoy never stepped foot into the classroom. Surely, he'd rather be seen in his undergarment than be seen taking a course on non-magical people. "We're in London, which has one of the highest populations of...people in any European cities." Though she was sure no one cared for their conversation, she, nonetheless, lowered her voice. "Did you know there are roughly four thousand muggles to one witch or wizard?"
He shook his head in response, quite surprised at the numbers. "How do you know that?"
A smirk found its way onto her face. "I am a know-it-all for a reason, aren't I?"
He chuckled, walking close to the witch, their shoulders brushing against each others from time to time; though, truth be told, their shoulders were touching just about everyone else's they came into contact with. Pop Brixton was, as the youngsters call it (or so claimed Hermione later on during the evening) 'poppin'' this time of night.
She noticed there was a slight frown etched into his lips, though he tried to hide it. Perhaps it was due to him being outside of his comfort zone or simply just the sheer amount of people (or just muggles) that had him feeling uneasy. Either way, he stayed as close as he could to her.
"It is the weekend, you know. People don't have to work; they don't have school, so they're free to do whatever they want until, I guess, Monday." Hermione couldn't help but feel a little envious as she watched the younger generation run around the establishment. There were times when she felt a great chunk of her youth was wasted away fighting a war most of the world would never know about.
"This is one of my favorite places." The witch pointed towards a small restaurant and wrapped her arm around his, pulling him without mercy into unsuspecting people and towards the mouth watering smell of fried food.
xxx
Malfoy gingerly picked up a piece of dried plantain chip, coated with cinnamon and nutmeg. He glanced around at the other patrons as they eagerly scarfed down their late night dinner without hesitation.
"Just put it on your mouth!" she exclaimed, popping a chip in as if to prove they weren't poisonous. "Delicious."
"Don't speak with your mouth full." The man rolled his eyes, taking the smallest nibble off the edge of the dried fruit.
"You're not going to taste anything like that, just-" Hermione leaned across the table, careful not to get her blouse dirty as she did so and shoved a large piece of plantain into his mouth. He protested, glaring as her as she laughed at his reaction. "If you ate like that with every dish that's going to be coming out, we'd be here for the rest of the night!"
Others noticed their bickering and chuckled along side Hermione as Malfoy reluctantly chewed on the appetizer.
"Well?" she asked after taking another piece from the wooden dish.
"It tastes sweet," he muttered, staring down at bowl. "Almost like bananas."
"They're a kind of bananas; they're just starchier."
xxx
"This is a...baow-bee-ab?" He dipped his spoon into a serving of butter, scooping up a teensy bit before giving it a taste.
"No, bay-oh-bab. Baobab. It's the national tree of Madagascar, but they also grow in Africa and Australia. They're also nicknamed the 'tree of life,' because of its ability to thrive in such a dry area and still able to produce fruit and store tons of water -thus, 'tree of life.'"
"Seriously, Granger, where do you store all this information in your brain? Whoever knew Baobab would be relevant in a conversation?"
Hermione laughed, nearly spitting out her food midchew, and quickly covered her mouth with the napkin. "Harry and Ron used to ask me that all the time when we were in school. I guess, I have something of an eidetic memory. I can remember things pretty easily after just a short period of time."
"Mmh! This is delicious." He cut a piece of tilapia and dipped it into the citrusy butter. "Whoever knew muggles were capable of making such gourmet food?"
She watched him eat. Malfoy's actions reminded her of a child, exploring an entire new world -which, in a sense, it was for him. "You'd be surprised how far one's talent can take them even without having our magical potential." Hermione popped a fried okra into her mouth, relishing in the garlicky decadence. "A chef's superb ability to cook is something your magic is unable to replicate."
He glanced up, disbelieving her comment. As someone such as Malfoy, who spent their entire lives surrounded by magic -the very idea of a muggle's talent being superior to magic is hard, if even possible, to comprehend.
But she continued with her statement, pausing every few sentences to take a bite of food. The two of them ended up ordering several dishes, sharing between each other, trying out the assortment of flavor the restaurant had to offer.
"There's something entirely different, something magic can't even bring out. It's the passion, the love, the drive to create something to perfection. It's knowing that your work can evoke emotion. A writer whose words can cause a stranger to shed tears. An artist who evoke anger from their paintings. A chef who brings out happiness in their food. A muggle's ability to do this, through years of hard work and dedication - it's a form of magic that magic can't even replicate."
xxx
"Let me pay." He took the tab, assuming it was the bill, and pulled out his pouch. It only dawned on him, after spilling out his money, that Malfoy only carried wizarding currency. "Shit."
Hermione laughed. "Yeah, you can't use that here. Put that away before people start asking what you're carrying." She dug through her satchel, pulling out a few paper bills, all in different sizes and colors.
"Sly..."
She found herself enjoying the night with the wizard. There was so much for him to learn about her former life, and he, surprisingly, listened the entire night. It was weird, but it was a good weird.
"These look so odd." Malfoy took a paper, looking at it closely. "Who is this woman?" He pointed at the artwork on the money.
"The queen of England."
"England has a queen?"
She laughed again, nodding. "Yes, we've had a queen for many, many years now, and it's not going to change anytime soon."
"How does money work here?" he asked in a demanding manner, setting the paper back onto the black tray.
Hermione pulled out a few bills with some coins and ordered them according to their value. "Paper money is called pounds. These tokens are called pence. There is one hundred pence to a pound. Our pounds come in one, two, five, ten, twenty, and fifty bills. It's the same with our coins." She pointed to each piece as she explained. "The important part the value of our wizard currency to muggle currency - a knut is equivalent to one pence. Easy." Hermione pulled took out three coins, each of them embossed with the words 'Gringotts Bank.' "One sickel is roughly equivalent to thirty pence, and one galleon is about five pounds."
"Such weird exchanges."
"Yes, well, what's even harder is when you convert our British wizarding currency to, let's say, American wizarding currency to American muggle currency."
"Let me guess, you know all the exchange rates for that, too?"
xxx
"Here, try this-" She handed him a small glass filled with brownish liquid while placing two pints of beer on the wooden table next to the blonde.
Malfoy took it, frowning at the unpleasant appearance of the beverage. "What is it?"
"Just try it!" Hermione scoffed, clinking the shot glass against his before shooting it down. Her face scrunched in a grimace as the alcohol burned down her throat. "Aah!" she exclaimed, sticking out her tongue, sucking in the cool air.
The wizard followed suit, though the effects of the drink didn't elicit much of an expression from him. "Oh, it tastes like firewhiskey." He looked at the empty glass with an approving nod. "It's a little bit of the sweeter end, though."
"Mhm," she sucked in her cheek, trying to get the bitter taste out of her mouth by swallowing some saliva. Clearly, she wasn't nearly as an experienced drinker as her companion, given the last time she consumed more than two shots of bourbon had her passed out in his bed. Hermione felt her cheeks reddening, though unsure whether it was from the drink or from her memory of that embarrassing evening. "We call it a fireball shot."
"Interesting."
Though they were well into the evening, there was still a sizeable crowd at Pop Brixton. Hermione leaned against the railing, looking over toward the ground floor. They had ventured their way up to the second story, where one of the more populated bar was hosted. The music was loud, eclectic, and exciting.
"How often do you venture out this far?" He moved next to her, glancing down at the other people. Everyone was doing something, enjoying the night and having a great time. Some danced, others chatted, and even a few of the more burly men seemed to have started a drinking competition amongst each other.
Some of the younger crowds shrieked and laughed, taking selfies, immortalizing their weekend. "Mm," she started, thinking back to the last time she was here. "Not all too often. Most of the time it was just to take my mind off things - after the war, after my breakup - just to get a different perspective on things." She took a sip of the bubbly alcohol and licked the top of her lip, wiping away the foam. "Just to remind myself that there's more to life than just what I surround myself with."
"Are you always so introspective?"
Hermione chuckled against the rim of her glass. "If not me, then who?"
For some time, they watched drunkards and pretty girls alike wander about. Some hailed a cab for themselves, their destination being home or even the next bar. Others would occasionally notice Granger, himself, and the others, who were all peering over the railings, and waved. The witch would always smile and wave back, though he was sure they weren't always looking in their direction.
Draco had finished his glass of beer rather quickly. Who knew muggles could conjure such addicting beverages? She must have noticed him fumbling around with his empty mug and gave him a few of the bills she'd shown him earlier. "Just go up to the bar and order whatever you want on the menu."
"How will I know what to get?" He took the cash anyway.
"Where's your sense in adventure?" She shot him a smirk before turning her back towards him, her attention back on the people downstairs.
The helpless wizard then made his way over towards the bar Granger pointed out earlier. There were a scattered few ordering drinks, and others were enchanted by a moving screen hanging from the ceiling. He stared at it for a moment until the bartender caught his attention.
"What can I get you, sweetheart?" the cute woman piped up, giving the blonde a toothy smile.
Draco pinched his chin as he quickly diverted his attention towards the row of bottles. They came in all sorts of sizes and colors; the labels on these bottles didn't help him much, either. What was a Stella...Stella Artois? Artoys? One beer bottle had a giant 'T' on it, which - it didn't even mean anything!
After what felt like ages to him, trying to figure out what beer was what - and let's be honest, he never figured it out - he finally asked the petite bartender, "Ah, yes, uh, what's good?"
xxx
"What did you get?" Granger glanced over towards Draco as he returned to her, handing her whatever change was left over.
"A pilsner?" he responded; though, it was more of a question. In the end, the bartender gave him whatever was her favorite. He'd asked way too many questions and understood next to nothing about beer and was just taking up too much time when there were other customers waiting to be served. "It's okay." Draco shrugged as he took a sip of the beer. It, certainly, wasn't the worst drink he's ever had. "Here's the rest of your change."
She took coins, dropping them into her satchel. "Was it hard to figure out how to use the money?"
The wizard boasted, rolling his eyes. "Simple arithmetic." In reality, and he would never admit it to Granger, Draco couldn't remember the exchange rate and ended up throwing the wad of cash at the poor bartender.
"Simple, indeed," she commented, though her response was paired with an arched brow, almost in disbelief.
"You doubt me?" Draco feigned offense. He took a sip of a beer, and an explosion of crisp refreshing floral flavor filled his mouth. It was different from the one Granger purchased, which was fruitier and sweeter, perhaps something more along her taste.
He pulled a wooden stool over towards the railing, his legs and knees tired from standing the past few hours. They continued to watch the patrons downstairs, plenty more now intoxicated and many more calling a cab to end their night. Draco was almost sure it was past Granger's bedtime.
"I had a thought," Granger started, pulling her nest of a hair over her left shoulder, bundling the strands together with her hand. "About the gadget -that night in New York-"
"-Don't," Draco interjected quickly, stopping her from talking anymore.
"But-" She turned towards him, a crease was forming between her brows and a frown was setting in.
"Not tonight, alright?" He sighed, taking a giant swig of his bubbly beverage and set it down onto the round pub table.
"We have to talk about this; we've been putting it off for so long now."
The wizard reached forward, wrapped his slender fingers around her curls, tugging on them gently, and pulled her towards him. "Then what's another night?" He spoke lowly. Their eyes locked, her brown eyes staring into his.
Silence hugged them as they became lost in their own world, completely unaware of their surroundings. His other hand found its way towards her face, cupping her cheek. His thumb traced along her jawline, and he watched her nibble nervously at her lower lip.
"Are you sure?" she questioned. Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was just how Granger was (Draco was sure it was the latter), but she just didn't want to let go of the subject, regardless of their current state of mind. "I mean..." Granger whispered, her eyes darting towards her lips, "I have some pretty good ideas on what we could do to-"
He groaned loudly, thoroughly annoyed, and placed a finger over her lips, momentarily shutting her up. "Not tonight, alright?"
"...okay."
A/N: Pop Brixton is a real place in London! I tried to keep it as real as possible, and even the restaurant I described was real. If you ever visit or live in the area, I was talking about Zoe's Ghana Kitchen! Unfortunately, during my short time in London, I didn't get the opportunity to visit Pop Brixton, but it's definitely on my to visit list for when I go back again!
Responses:
allesmagisch: Your comment made me smile! I'm glad there are readers out there that are still excited over Empire's update even though it's been quite some time!
LightofEvolution: XD I'm surprised you made a review as fast as you did! I'm glad you find my Hermione quite in character :D Always working hard!
Sam Wallflower: I'm so glad you missed Empire! I'm happy to be back and writing it!
roon0: She's gotta put the man in his place!
tmtcltb: I think it was a great time to distract her... XD
matkatry: I'm working on it! Haha
Mistress Dragonflame: Thank you! I had a difficult time deciding between either them getting into a fight or making up, but I felt like getting them into a fight was more natural (or at least, Ron' slipping up and bumbling around with his words led them into the fight) than just being "okay, we're friends again." More plot development!
daswhoiam: I hope you were safe during Irma! She was just as bad as Harvey, if I read the news correctly. My family's having a tough time, but we'll make it through this time. Thank you for the compliment, though! I'm glad there are still people around and enjoying my story!
Riam: Thank you for your review! And I'm so glad you went back to reread it! I definitely had to when writing chapter 14. XD I was just like, "waitaminute, what happened?!"
MidnightQuill420: haha, I'm quite alright and yay! New chapter. :)
cmtaylor531: It's what he does best. :P
