A/N: Let me see here... nope. Still don't own HP.
Over 100 follows already! *squeals* I love you all so much! Short little chapter for you lovely readers. The goal is to get Chapter Five up this weekend. Enjoy!
Hermione walked to the bar and sat next to Draco. She was pleased to see that Fiona, the head bartender, was working that evening. Fiona seemed to feel Hermione's gaze on her and met her eyes, winked, and called over, "Glass of rum coming right up!" Hermione nodded and fiddled with her hands for a moment.
Remembering the first time she happened across her old school mate at this very bar, she smirked and turned to face him. "So…" she did the best impression of his familiar drawl, "Do you come here often?"
Malfoy's eyes widened and he let out a laugh. Hermione noticed he had quite a pleasant laugh, deep and rich. Completely different from the pureblood, airy, haughty laugh she typically heard from him. "I was wondering when I would find you here again. I got the impression you're quite the regular."
"I'm not a lush or anything, if that's what you're implying, Malfoy," she narrowed her eyes slightly. "I simply enjoy the environment here. I've been frequenting the place for years and have yet to see an article in the Prophet discussing my drinking habits. That makes this a trustworthy establishment, in my opinion."
Draco nodded in agreement. "I quite like coming to a place where I won't be recognized and hounded. This place is clean, lively, and discreet. I had a busy day today and didn't feel like returning to an empty house just yet so I stopped in." He eyed her suspiciously, "Doesn't your daughter come home on weekends? I'm surprised to see you here, actually."
She waved her hand in dismissal. "The look on your face when you noticed me walk in led me to believe that you were expecting me to make an appearance." She looked at him quizzically.
"Not expecting, Granger. Hoping for it is more like it."
Hermione froze at what he was insinuating. He had been looking forward to seeing her again?! Why?! She opened her mouth to ask him, but was cut off by Fiona as she brought Hermione her rum and turned to take Draco's order.
"Can I get you anything to drink, good lad?" Fiona smiled at him and looked at him expectantly.
"Just a gillywater on ice, please," he said, his voice dripping with manners she was sure he had spent his entire childhood cultivating.
Hermione reached into her bag and pulled out her can of Coke, grinning when she noticed Malfoy visibly balk at the sight of it. She popped the top and poured the amber liquid into her rum, swirling her glass a few times before taking a swig. "Thanks, Fiona, I needed this tonight." Hermione set the drink back on the bar and smiled at the brunette witch. "How's the brewing going?" Hermione inquired as she took another sip of her drink.
"Oh you know, it's going," Fiona replied, smiling warmly back at Hermione. "I can't quite get the recipe correct on my latest concoction, though," she said disappointedly. She pinched her thumb and index finger together. "I feel like I'm this close to a breakthrough, but nothing yet."
"It will come to you eventually, Fiona. It always does," Hermione assured the woman, patting her arm gently.
"I sure hope so," Fiona sighed and turned her attention back to Malfoy. "Gillywater, coming right up for you," she said as she breezed away to prepare his drink.
Draco directed his attention back to Hermione. "What exactly is she brewing?" he inquired interestedly.
Hermione smirked. She had noticed him tune in to the conversation when she had asked Fiona about her hobby. It must have taken all of his proper pureblooded restraint to not interrupt them when Hermione had first brought it up.
"Oh, Fiona is a magical mixologist," Hermione explained, idly stirring her drink with a stirrer she had pulled from her beaded bag. "She's fascinating, actually. Her mother is French and her father is a McLaggen. Makes for quite an interesting accent. She was raised in France, so she naturally has a thick French accent." Hermione noticed Draco's raised eyebrows and smiled. "She tones it down while working, most of the time. It avoids confusion for those who claim to not understand her because of the accent."
Draco nodded in understanding and she continued, "I love hearing her talk, it's amazing how she combines Irish phrases with French terms of endearment and she can switch from a French accent to an Irish one in the blink of an eye."Realizing she was rambling she shook her head and focused on the conversation at hand. "Anyway, though, she experiments with different drinks, putting her own spin on them. You know, she actually created a version of Fire Whiskey that doesn't burn when you drink it?" Malfoy noticed the excitement in her voice, the spark behind her eyes as she talked about her friend's creation. "She calls it Fire and Ice. It actually cools your throat. It's the only Fire Whiskey I'll drink anymore, actually."
"Hmm," Draco muttered, "That's quite interesting. I've never heard of magical mixology. Sounds a bit like potion-making."
"Yes," Hermione nodded, musing, " I would imagine the practice is similar. She has so many drinks in the works. I just love talking with her. You can tell she really has a passion for her work."
"And what about you, Granger?" Draco asked, turning to face her, his eyes searching, "Do you have a passion for your work?"
Hermione shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, "Well, I always wanted to work in a position where I could help magical creatures who are unable to help themselves."
"Yes, I'm sure we all remember SPEW, Granger," he smirked before continuing, "But that's not exactly what you are doing in your position at the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures."
No, Hermione thought to herself. No, it's not. But to Malfoy she simply replied, "What I do at my job is none of your concern, Malfoy."
Fiona approached with the gillywater, but noticing that Hermione and Draco were deep in conversation she set the glass down, nodded at each of them, and walked away.
Picking up his gillywater, Draco spoke again, "Yes, that is true," he conceded, taking a sip of his drink and returning it back to the coaster. "But something is driving you here night after night. So, tell me Granger," he said, leaning in closer. "Its common knowledge that Ron is away more than he is home. You told me as much last time we spoke. 'A marriage of convenience' you called it. But if he isn't home, then nothing is driving you away. So is it workplace woes? Empty nest syndrome? Well, no. That last one can't be the case because your daughter comes home on the weekends, and yet here you are on a Friday night."
Hermione was shocked at the nerve of Draco Malfoy questioning her. He had no right to ask that information. And yet...she got the feeling that, behind the teasing tone of voice, he honestly wanted to know. He wasn't pushing, but it seemed as though he was offering to lend an ear. Similar to the physical cues he gave off at the now dwindling dinner parties, it seemed to her that he was extending an olive branch. Trying to assure her that, if she so desired, she had someone to lean on. She smiled ruefully to herself as she thought, he's just doing it in a very Malfoy way. And honestly, she realized she shouldn't be surprised. Hermione sighed and rubbed her temples. "Honestly Malfoy, have you never heard of small talk?"
He smirked at her. "That's not really my style."
She blew out an exasperated breath, "If you continue to play twenty questions with me, then I won't be frequenting this bar for much longer."
The smirk faded from his face. For a brief second, she thought she saw a flash of something like concern before it was replaced with the usual cool indifference. "Well, I have no qualms taking my business elsewhere," he said haughtily and moved to pull on his cloak.
"Why are you here, Malfoy? You said it yourself that you don't drink. You're a recovering alcoholic and yet you're sitting here at a pub of all places. Not very practical. And I can't imagine it's very pleasant, either." She quirked an eyebrow at him. "And don't give that nonsense you said earlier about it being discreet, clean, and however else you describe it. While it certainly is true, I'm sure there are much more suitable establishments in London that offer the same benefits and are more suited to your class."
He replaced the cloak on the back of his chair and sat back down, turning to face her, his face grave, "Who says I deserve for things to be easy? I've done terrible things to many people. And yet here I sit in what I imagine would be the same career, and with the same sum of money in my vault as I would have, no matter what the turnout." Hermione was surprised to note the torment in his stormy grey eyes. "I'm not saying I don't appreciate you and Harry speaking for me at my trial. But as I've grown older I've realized just how much of an arse I was. So I guess it depends on the day. Sometimes, I come here as a punishment. And other times I just don't feel like being alone."
"I don't want to be alone either," Hermione whispered. "That's why I'm here tonight. Rosie made the quidditch team at school. She went to Harry's to practice with Ginny. I bought her a new broom as a congratulatory present, but I didn't include Ron in the purchase. He totally threw a fit and stormed out, to Harry's. So I found myself alone when the rest of my family was together and while I know I should brush it off and go be with my daughter regardless, I just couldn't. So I came here. Sometimes I feel like, other than with Rose, the time I spend here is the only time I can breathe."
"I'm really sorry, Hermione." Her eyes widened at the use of her given name. It looked like he was going to say something else but instead he raised his glass to her in a silent salute and drank deeply. She raised her glass in the same fashion, a silent toast to secrets, redemption, and space to breathe.