Draco slammed the heavy door to his study behind him, and made his way straight over to the liquor cabinet.
He rummaged around until he found his favourite aged wine, and then yanked the cork off with his teeth. Not bothering to find a glass, he threw himself into his favourite leather chair, and took a hefty swig. He then pointed his wand at the fireplace, muttering a spell so that the fire roared to life, the only light in the darkened room.
Draco stared into the depths of the fire as he slumped in his chair, drinking as fast as he could to numb the ache in his chest. He had successfully avoided his mother, creeping past the sitting room where she had no doubt been waiting up eagerly to hear about his night.
Instead, he had come straight to his wing of the Manor, where he intended to stay shut up until he was inevitably woken with a hangover tomorrow.
What a stupid idea, to think he could attend a party with people he had betrayed. More foolish, however, was to forget for a second, who he was. When he had spoken to Hermione, the memories of the war had momentarily escaped his brain. It was such a good feeling that he had sought her out again, though Weasley's cruel reminder now echoed in his brain.
Of course, he could never be friends with the same girl whom he had once wanted dead, and whom he had allowed to be tortured in this very house. He was stupid to forget that.
Self loathing gnawed at him. He wasn't sure how long he sat there, drinking and wallowing in his own self hatred, but after a while he was brought to his senses by a 'crack'.
In front of him, in a green pillowcase, stood his house elf. "Pinky is sorry to be disturbing her Master, but Master is having a visitor." She squeaked, bowing.
Draco groaned at the thought. "Tell them I'm busy." He stated, turning back to his drink.
The elf eyed him with worry, ringing her hands. "Miss Granger is demanding she is to be let in at once, Master Draco. She is saying you is not to be ignoring her."
At this, Draco's eyes widened, and he sat up with a jolt. Hermione was here? At Malfoy Manor, of all places?
"Oh - er - bring her in just a moment, Pinky. Give me two minutes." He said, hopping out of his chair.
He looked around the room wildly, wincing at the state of his study. He had demanded that Pinky was not to clean it as he spent so much time in there, and there were bottles, glasses, and full ashtrays cluttered about, collecting dust. The curtains had been drawn some months ago and never opened, and his desk was in disarray with the various documents he had sorted through when the ministry had threatened to seize the manor.
He quickly grabbed his wand and cast a 'scourify' charm on the worst of the mess, banishing as many bottles as he could. Then, he glanced in the ornate silver mirror above the mantle piece, grimacing at his reflection.
Draco still dawned his awful Grim Reaper outfit. His hair was too long on the top, hanging in his eyes. He tried to fix it as best as he could, though he gave up when he noted he looked alot like Potter did when he tried to smooth his own mop of hair. His grey eyes were dead looking, and his cheeks slightly hollow. He looked worn out, and tired.
Abandoning any hope of looking more presentable, he instead sunk again into his chair as he waited for Granger to arrive, heart hammering.
When she finally was led into the room, it was like a godly apparition, her costume throwing light into the dark corners of the room and filling the space. Rising from his worn leather chair, Draco greeted her entrance, smoothly closing the heavy door behind her, enveloping the room in a cocoon of confidentiality.
She turned to face him, and he could clearly see that she had been crying again. In fact, she looked like she felt as worn out as he did. Still, Draco thought madly, she looked as beautiful as ever. Like a tragic renaissance painting in her angelic costume.
"Hermione?" He breathed.
She gave him a small smile, looking around the room, apparently feeling suddenly awkward.
"Draco." Was all she said. She pursed her lips and crossed her hands in front of her, as Draco just stared at her bewildered. He suddenly realised that he was being impolite, and offered her a seat.
Hermione sat down on his green velvet sofa, biting her lip.
"Drink?" Draco offered politely, gesturing to the bottle of wine on the table. She nodded in thanks as he handed her a glass, deciding it best to also pour himself one instead of returning to drink from the bottle like a caveman.
As he sat across from her, neither said a word. Draco didn't want to pry, but his mind was buzzing with questions at the absurd situation he was in. Hermione glanced around the meticulously decorated study, her fingers tracing the rim of the wine glass. The room, frozen in time, seemed to hold a weight of unspoken words between them.
Draco, unable to bear the silence any longer, ventured cautiously, "Why are you here, Hermione?"
She looked up, her eyes meeting his with a mix of emotions—vulnerability, uncertainty, and a hint of something he couldn't quite place. Taking a steadying breath, she said in a soft voice, "I don't know."
Draco was still as confused as ever, but nodded, prompting her to continue. Hermione's gaze dropped to the wine glass in her hands as she spoke, her words laden with a complex blend of emotions. "I've been trying to make sense of things, Draco. The past, our choices, my choices. I thought I could try to move on from the war, that we could all move past things. But the way Ron acted tonight, the way everyone was…" She trailed off, her voice wavering.
Draco still didn't understand what she was trying to say, but his heart sank as he took in her trembling lip. Hermione took another deep breath, trying to steady herself. "I had a fight with Ron when I got home. It's been building up for a while, but tonight was the breaking point. I suggested taking a break, and he didn't take it well. He got angry, possessive, and I just couldn't handle it anymore."
Draco's expression shifted, a blend of understanding and an unfamiliar surge of protectiveness. "Are you okay?" He asked in a soft voice, though his jaw hardened at the thought of Weasley getting angry with Hermione.
She nodded as continued, her voice low and raw. "I've been trying so hard to make things work, Draco. Everyone expects us to be this perfect couple, especially Ron. It's like the war ended and suddenly everything is supposed to be perfect, me and him are splashed into the Daily Prophet almost daily. Gryffindor's star-crossed lovers, their calling us - I know, it's horrid. I tried my best with him, but I just feel like he views me as his property. Not as a real person with feelings and goals and ambitions outside of being his girlfriend. But tonight, when I saw you, when we talked, I felt... I felt like I could breathe again. Like I was talking to someone who saw me as Hermione, not just Ron's girlfriend."
Draco's grey eyes held a depth of understanding as he absorbed her words. They stared at each other, the irony of finding solace in each other's company, of all places, lost on neither of them.
"I don't know what this means, Draco," Hermione admitted, her gaze searching his face for answers. "I never expected to come here, but I couldn't think of anywhere else to go. I needed... I needed someone to talk to, someone who wouldn't judge me."
Draco remained silent for a moment, processing the revelation of Hermione's emotional turmoil. Finally, he spoke in a gentle tone, "You came to the right place for that. I'm as fucked up as they come, I'm in no place to judge." He teased, trying to lighten the mood. She gave him a watery smile in return.
"So," Draco cleared his throat, "I admit it's been a long time since I've entertained anyone in the Manor. But clearly, we're both in the same boat here. Does getting drunk and listening to some music sound like a good plan to soothe our woes?."
Hermione's mouth tugged up into a small smile, and she raised her glass. "Sounds like a plan, Draco."
With a nod, he made his way to his record player, shifting through dusty discs until he found the particular one he was looking for. With a smirk, he set it onto the turntable and set it spinning.
The familiar instrumental started, and a husky male voice filled the room. He watched with amusement as Hermione's expression dawned in recognition, her eyes flying to him.
"The Smiths? I love them." She smiled, "Muggle literature, music, and cigarettes? You're fully corrupted, Draco Malfoy."
Draco smirked back at her, sitting on the floor in front of the fire next to where she sat on the sofa. "Speaking of," He said, pulling out a cigarette, which he lit and took a drag, before offering it to her over his shoulder. "Want some?"
"You're a bad influence. Thanks." She said as he passed it to her.
Hermione took a drag of the cigarette and passed it to Draco, before lying down on her back on the sofa. As the melody filled the room, Draco and Hermione fell into a companionable silence. The crackling of the fire and the occasional drag from the shared cigarette were the only sounds in the dimly lit study.
Every so often, Draco would glance at Hermione from the corner of his eye. Her foot was tapping to the beat of the song, though every once in a while a fleeting look of sadness would cross her face.
As the music continued to fill the room, Draco, felt a sudden impulse to break the silence. "Enough of this brooding atmosphere," he declared, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Let's have some fun, Granger."
Hermione raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the unexpected turn of events. "Fun? In Malfoy Manor? Colour me sceptical."
Draco grinned, raising his eyebrows at her. "Trust me, this will be more fun than feeling sorry for ourselves." Without waiting for her response, he reached for a dusty cabinet in the corner of the room and pulled out a forgotten box.
"What's that?" Hermione asked, sitting up and eyeing the box with curiosity.
Draco opened it, revealing a small vial of clear liquid.
"Veritaserum." Hermione breathed, suddenly looking nervous.
Draco grinned mischievously, blowing dust off of the bottle. "Us Slytherins used to use this all the time, it's practically a right of passage. Ever heard of Truth or Drink?"
Hermione's eyes widened as she connected the dots. "Truth or Drink? You're suggesting we turn this into a game with Veritaserum?"
Draco smirked, holding up the vial as he nodded. "Exactly. It's a simple game. We take turns. You either answer a question truthfully or refuse and take a drink. Makes things interesting, doesn't it?"
She hesitated, her mind no doubt racing with the potential consequences. "Draco, Veritaserum is serious magic. What if we reveal things we'd rather keep to ourselves?"
Draco chuckled, "That's the beauty of it, Hermione. No secrets, no hiding. Just raw, unfiltered truth. It's liberating."
Hermione bit her lip, caught between caution and curiosity. After a moment, she sighed, a reluctant smile forming. "Alright, let's do it. But I get to ask the first question."
Draco nodded, pouring a small amount of Veritaserum for each of them. They clinked the glasses together, the liquid shimmering in the dim light. With a grimace, both downed the potion.
"Okay, now you can ask me something, and I either answer, and I absolutely have to tell the truth - or, I can refuse, and I have to drink my whole glass of wine in one go. Winner is last one standing."
He saw Hermione bite her lip, although her eyes sparkled with the challenge. Draco leaned back, a playful glint in his eyes. "Alright, hit me with your best shot. But keep in mind, I've got nothing to hide."
She eyed him thoughtfully, before asking, "Okay. Truth or drink?"
"Truth." He said confidently.
"Hmm.. when did you start liking muggle music?" She asked. Draco rolled his eyes at her question.
"At least ask something interesting. Such a Gryffindor, so unimaginative. It was actually Theo Nott that got me into it, believe it or not. Which you have to, since I must be telling the truth. He was seeing this muggle girl during the summer before 5th year, and she bought him an NV3 player."
"MP3." Hermione corrected automatically.
"Yes, that. Strange contraption. Anyway, he let me listen to this bloke called 'Morrisey', and he sounded just as melancholy as I felt at the time. I was hooked." He said with a shrug. Morrisey's voice continued in the background.. 'Take me out tonight…'
Draco smiled at Hermione wickedly. "Okay, my turn." He eyed the Gryffindor, trying to think of a good question. She was sat on her knees waiting, her wings sticking out behind her back like a fallen angel in the dim room.
"What's the most rebellious thing you've ever done? And if you're going to say something like not returning a library book on time, you can just spare me and drink instead." He said.
Hermione laughed, thinking. "Oh, I kept Rita Skeeter in a jar for a couple of weeks to stop her from writing lies about me and Harry." She said with a casual shrug.
Draco's mouth dropped open at this information. "What? How is that even possible? When exactly was this?" He demanded.
She only smirked at him, "You asked your question! Now it's my turn."
He bit his tongue, though he eyed her curiously. Maybe the witch wasn't as angelic as she appeared.
"Ask away." He said, inclining his head.
"What's your biggest regret?" Hermione asked.
Draco knew what his answer would be before he even opened his mouth. "Not helping you in the drawing room." He blurted, wincing at the sudden change in atmosphere. Still, he continued, "I was a wreck at the time, still am probably. But I should have done something, instead of just standing there, while my aunt tortured you. I even had a wand.. I still have nightmares about it. " He looked at her nervously, the potion having forced him to keep talking and reveal too much.
Hermione watched him, her expression softening. She didn't say anything else, but Draco continued anyway, feeling he may as well get it all out now that he had started.
"It was that moment that made me realise how stupid I had been about the pure-blood and muggle-born ideas that I had. Watching you lie there, bleeding out… You were supposed to be a mud blood, but your blood was red, like my own." His voice was a whisper.
There was silence, only interrupted by Morrisey's soft voice, 'Haven't had a dream in a long time..'.
"Draco.." Hermione began softly, but her voice was full of such pity that Draco couldn't stand to listen. Instead, he took a gulp of his wine, exclaiming, "My turn again!"
Eager to erase the sudden sadness from Hermione's features, Draco's mind raced, searching for a question to divert the melancholy atmosphere. He smirked as he thought of a question that he knew would annoy her, and asked, "Did you and Potter ever…?" His voice trailed off.
Expectantly, her face changed from sympathetic to angry. "No! Absolutely not! Harry and I are just friends, and always will be." She declared firmly, crossing her arms.
"Okay, okay, merlin. Just that you two are awfully close, I wondered if there was any throuple action going on there with you both and Weasley." He winked at her as she spluttered indignantly.
"Draco! That's it. My turn." She said, leaning forward with determination. "What about you and Pansy? She's always all over you. I bet you two definitely did a lot more than kiss."
Draco scoffed, "Me and Pansy? I'm a Malfoy, I have standards. She always knew when to pounce when I was drunk, but we never did more than a drunken kiss."
Hermione narrowed her eyes, eager to get something else out of him. "Okay, not Pansy then. Who else then, I bet you've bedded half of the girls in Slytherin."
"No one." He answered abruptly, before he could stop himself. His eyes widened as he realised that he had answered without thinking, and revealed information that he shouldn't have. "It's not your question, Granger! You have to drink now for breaking the rules." He added, hoping she didn't notice.
However, Hermione had clearly heard his slip up, as her eyebrows lifted in surprise and her pink lips fell open. Draco felt his face colour, looking down at the floor.
Thankfully, she didn't comment, drinking obediently and suddenly became very interested in the fire. The awkward atmosphere stretched for too long, and Draco felt exposed. Desperate to even the playing field, he asked her, "Have you ever thought about me in a sexual way?"
Hermione's eyes widened in shock and her cheeks seemed to colour a deeper shade of pink at his abrupt question. Instead of answering, her eyes flew around the room, before she squeezed them shut in defeat. She raised her glass to her lips, and drank the contents of her glass deeply.
A gleeful grin played on Draco's face, realising her lack of response was an admission in itself. He was still grinning as she finished her drink, cringing as she set the empty glass on the table.
Catching his smug expression, she shot him an embarrassed glare. 'Shut up,' she muttered under her breath, eliciting a laugh from him.
"Granger, you mischievous thing. No need to worry; I'm flattered. It's a common phenomenon, really—most witches find it challenging to maintain their composure in my presence," he said with an air of feigned casualness, punctuating his words with a theatrical stretch and a leisurely lean against the sofa.
Hermione rolled her eyes. She looked at him, eyes narrowing, presumably thinking of a question that would cause him equal embarrassment. "Alright, Draco, since you think you're so irresistible, tell me. Have you ever wanted someone you couldn't have?"
Draco's smirk faltered for a moment, replaced by a thoughtful expression. The air in the room seemed to shift as he considered her question. "Yes." He finally answered, his voice low.
When he glanced at her, Draco noticed the subtle change in Hermione's expression. A quiet understanding settled between them. He watched as her mischievous smile faltered, and realisation dawned in her eyes.
As they sat in the charged moment, The Smith's melody continued, 'And if you're so clever, then why are you on your own tonight?'.
Hermione spoke eventually in a soft voice, "That's too bad."
As Draco locked eyes with her, an intensity lingered in the air. 'Same question,' he uttered, watching her gulp nervously before delivering her answer.
"Yes.. There is someone. But it would be crossing the line." Her voice was barely a whisper.
Draco felt his heart start to hammer as they remained locked in each other's gaze. Her face was still tracked with dried tears, her hair wilder than before - clouding around her face. Her tanned skin glowed under the spotlight of her halo, and her chest rose and fell softly as she breathed.
He wasn't sure if it was all the drink, but as Draco looked at her, his heart was suddenly in his throat. He had never seen anyone so beautiful.
The room pulsated with anticipatory energy, and in the moment, Draco couldn't help himself but feel drawn to her. Like a moth to a flame, he felt himself move closer, until his face was inches from hers. .A soft, genuine smile graced his lips, savouring the sight of her eyes widening in anticipation. Their proximity was so intimate now; he could feel the gentle brush of her breath against his face.
"Well, Hermione." He breathed, his voice a gentle caress, "Maybe, some lines are worth crossing."
Driven by an undeniable impulse, he delicately moved his hand to cradle her soft cheek once again. Then, with a slight whisper of hesitation, Draco slowly lowered his lips to hers.