Chapter 8: The Night That Changed Everything
Over the past three days, Hermione had buried herself in research, desperate to find a way out of the impossible situation she was now entangled in. Ancient marriage laws were not something she had previously studied in detail, but now they consumed her every thought. Frustratingly, Ron had been right. As infuriating as it was, he'd been correct. She could marry anyone she wished, despite the pregnancy, as long as the other party was willing. It was a loophole she hadn't expected to find, and the realization left her more conflicted than ever.
Her logical mind told her that marrying Ron was the practical choice. They had history together, and despite the complications, she knew him well. He would step up, take responsibility, and together they could make it work—even if it wasn't the life she had envisioned for herself. But her heart wouldn't stop whispering that Draco Malfoy deserved a chance. The Draco she remembered from that night was not the boy she had once loathed at Hogwarts. He had been different—so different. She couldn't shake the nagging feeling that perhaps, just maybe, he had truly changed.
The conflict was maddening. No matter how hard she tried, her logical mind and her heart refused to align. To make things worse, according to Harry, Ron was growing increasingly frustrated with her delay in accepting his proposal. The nerve of him! She wasn't going to be rushed into a decision, not now. After all, she still had three more months.
Sitting at her kitchen table, a half-drunk cup of tea growing cold beside her, Hermione's mind drifted back to the night that had upended her world.
- - - Flashback - - -
The pub had been lively, filled with the clinking of glasses and the buzz of laughter. But Hermione had been lost, her attention captivated by Draco Malfoy. Her feet, almost unconsciously, had carried her closer to him, drawn to his presence in a way she couldn't quite explain.
Ron and Harry had been arguing, but she barely registered it, so enthralled was she by Draco. She vaguely heard Harry's frustrated question to Ron, "What's going on? Why did you attack him?" but it seemed distant, inconsequential.
Ron, on the other hand, had tried to brush it off. "It's nothing, just—just leave it," he had muttered, but Harry was relentless.
Then, amidst the noise and confusion, she heard it. "I put a love potion in the drinks." The words sliced through her haze, shattering whatever trance had held her captive.
"What?" Hermione snapped back to reality, her eyes wide with horror. "Ron, how could you?" she spat, her voice trembling with fury.
Ron's face told her everything she needed to know. The shock, betrayal, and anger hit her like a tidal wave, nearly knocking her off balance. As she stepped forward to confront him, she stumbled, bumping into a table. She gripped its edge to steady herself, her eyes flicking back to Draco, who was still struggling from the hot pepper that had been slipped into his food.
His face was flushed, and he was frantically searching for relief. Something in her heart twisted at the sight of his discomfort. Without a second thought, she rushed to his side and grabbed his arm.
"Draco, water won't help," she said firmly, guiding him. "I know exactly what will. Come with me."
Draco, clearly smitten despite the discomfort, followed Hermione without question. "Granger, you cute little witch, is there anything you don't know?" he teased, managing a faint smile even as his mouth burned from the spice.
Hermione couldn't help but giggle at his playful slip, but the sound of voices calling out for them jolted her back to reality. Panic gripped her chest as she quickly grabbed Draco's arm, pulling him aside and ducking behind a nearby counter.
"Why are we hiding?" Draco asked, his gray eyes locking onto hers, filled with confusion.
Hermione's breath hitched in her throat as fear washed over her. "Because they're going to take me away," she whispered, her voice trembling with urgency. The worry etched into Draco's face made her heart clench, but she couldn't afford to explain everything now.
Before Draco could utter another word, Hermione quickly pressed a finger to her lips. "Shh… don't make a sound," she urged quietly.
Still dazed from the potion, the fiery heat of the pepper, and the whirlwind of confusion from the earlier attack, Draco simply nodded. He placed his index finger on his lips, looking like an obedient child. Despite the tension of the moment, Hermione nearly smiled at how unexpectedly endearing he appeared in his confused state.
As the voices faded and she saw Harry, Ginny, Ron, Blaise, and Pansy leave the pub in search of them, Hermione made a quick decision. "Come on," she whispered, pulling Draco toward the back door of the Leaky Cauldron.
They slipped out into the cool night air, but the moment they did, the echo of footsteps behind them sent Hermione's heart racing again.
"Oh no, hide!" she hissed, pulling Draco back inside.
But it was a false alarm—just a stranger passing by. Hermione exhaled shakily, the adrenaline still surging through her veins.
She dragged Draco into a sweet shop nearby. It was called enchanted treats. Most couples like to come to this shop for desserts after their dinner due to its unbeatable quality and taste.
"Come on, Draco," she urged, her excitement mingling with her nerves. "Order your favourite. Sweets will soothe your burning tongue."
Draco smiled, still dazed but enchanted by her presence. "Bewitched Buttercream Cake," he said, his voice soft as his eyes met hers. The cake was brought to them, a beautifully frosted dessert that shimmered and changed colors with each bite. Hermione, without thinking, scooped a piece onto her fork and offered it to Draco. He took the bite, his eyes never leaving hers. In return, he offered her a slice, and they laughed softly as they shared the cake in the cozy glow of the shop.
Their moment was interrupted by the soft chime of the door. Hermione's heart skipped a beat as Ginny walked in, scanning the shop. "Under the table," Hermione whispered urgently, pulling Draco down with her.
They squeezed into the tight space, stifling their laughter as they clung to one another. Ginny's footsteps grew louder, then softer as she moved away, unaware of their hiding spot. Under the table, Hermione and Draco exchanged furtive glances, giggling as they fed each other the last bits of cake. The warmth of his breath as he leaned in for a kiss made her head spin, and when their lips met, it was soft, lingering, and filled with an intoxicating sweetness.
When Ginny finally left, they both sighed in relief, Draco leaning back with a soft chuckle. "That was close," he whispered, his voice still full of amusement.
Hermione grinned. "Yeah. But it was also… fun."
Draco leaned in slightly, a playful glint in his eyes as he spoke. "You know, the night doesn't have to end here," he said, his voice low and inviting. His thumb grazed the back of her hand. "How about we continue this… somewhere more private?"
Hermione's breath caught, her heart racing at the suggestion. She hesitated for just a moment before meeting his gaze, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'd like that."
They slipped out into the night, walking hand-in-hand through the quiet streets. The moonlight filtered through the trees as they strolled through a nearby park, casting soft shadows on the path. The night felt surreal, almost like a dream—one she never wanted to wake from.
They reached Draco's flat, but before they could enter, a familiar figure caught Hermione's eye.
"Oh look, there's Blaise," Draco said with a grin. "Let's say hi!"
"No!" Hermione grabbed his arm, panic surging through her. "He'll take you away!"
Draco blinked in confusion, "Why would he do that? Blaise wants me to be happy."
"Because… because we're under a love potion," she stammered, pulling him away.
Draco frowned, utterly perplexed. "But I didn't give you a love potion."
Hermione kissed him deeply, silencing any more questions. "I know," she whispered against his lips. "I know."
Unable to return to Draco's flat, they wandered to a nearby hotel. As they approached, the sound of laughter and teasing filled the air between them, light and carefree.
But as they stepped into the lobby, they froze. Harry was at the reception desk, handing the receptionist photos of them.
"Oh no," Hermione whispered, backing up instinctively.
"Why does Potter hate me so much?" Draco pouted, his expression almost childish.
"He doesn't hate you Draco, we are under a love potion remember?" Hermione replied, quickly pulling him behind a large potted plant. "We just need to get out of here before they see us."
Once Harry had left, they dissolved into quiet laughter, hearts still racing from the close call. "We can't stay here," Hermione said, barely able to contain her amusement.
"Potters probably informed every hotel by now," Draco sighed dramatically. "I can't believe there's no place in the entire wizarding world for us."
Hermione's eyes lit up with a sudden idea. "We should go to a Muggle hotel!"
Draco tilted his head, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "I have a better idea."
Before she could ask what he meant, Draco grabbed her hand and Disapparated them away. The world spun for a moment, and when it stopped, they found themselves in a cozy Muggle apartment.
"This is a Muggle apartment?" Hermione's voice held a note of disbelief as she stepped further into the room, her eyes scanning the space. The cozy atmosphere was a stark contrast to anything she had ever imagined Draco Malfoy inhabiting. Soft, warm lighting filled the room, complementing the understated furniture and personal touches—books on the coffee table, a throw blanket casually draped over the arm of the sofa. The space was inviting, intimate even, and worlds away from the opulent grandeur she had always associated with the Malfoy name.
Her curiosity piqued, Hermione turned to Draco, her brow furrowing slightly. "Whose place is this?"
Draco leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, "It's mine."
She pulled back, surprise flickering across her face. "Yours?" Hermione repeated, turning her gaze back to the room. "The great Draco Malfoy, pureblood extraordinaire, owns a Muggle apartment?" The disbelief was clear in her tone, and she couldn't help but chuckle softly at the absurdity of the idea.
Draco's playful smirk faded, replaced by a more serious expression. He looked away, his posture stiffening as he moved to sit on the couch. The weight of the world seemed to settle on his shoulders as he slouched slightly, his hands clasped together. "After the war... the Ministry made me go through a rehabilitation program," he began, his voice low, distant. "Part of that was familiarizing me with the Muggle world. I spent a lot of time here because of it."
Hermione blinked, the revelation catching her off guard. She had known Draco had gone through some kind of rehabilitation program after the war, but they hadn't expected it to be at this level.
"I had to learn how to live among Muggles," Draco continued, his voice steady but hollow. "How to blend in, how to understand their world. The Ministry wanted to make sure I wouldn't slip back into... old ways. That I wouldn't be tempted to go back."
As he spoke, Hermione studied his face, noting the lines of strain, the shadow of old pain that lingered in his eyes. This wasn't the Draco Malfoy she remembered from Hogwarts—the arrogant boy who had sneered at her, who had spat the word 'Mudblood' with such venom. That boy seemed like a ghost now, replaced by a man weighed down by the sins of his past.
"I'm sorry," Draco said softly, breaking the silence that had fallen between them. His gaze remained fixed on the floor, his voice barely above a whisper. "For everything. For how I treated you in school. During the war... You didn't deserve any of it."
The words left Hermione speechless. She never thought she would hear Draco Malfoy apologize for anything, least of all to her. She stood frozen, staring at him, her mind reeling.
After what felt like an eternity of silence, Draco spoke again. "I don't deserve you, you know that, right?" His voice cracked slightly, betraying a vulnerability she had never seen in him before.
Hermione's heart clenched at his words. There was something so raw, so real in his tone that it nearly broke her. Slowly, she moved closer to him, sitting beside him on the couch. She reached out, her hand resting gently on his arm, offering him a quiet sense of comfort. "Draco," she said softly, her voice steady, "you were a child, forced into an impossible situation. You didn't have a choice."
Draco finally looked up at her, his eyes filled with a storm of regret and guilt. Without a word, he rolled up his sleeve, revealing the faded Dark Mark on his arm. The ink had dulled over the years, but the scar of it—both physical and emotional—remained as potent as ever. "I wanted this," he confessed, his voice hollow. "My father made it sound so glorious."
Hermione's fingers brushed over the dark mark, her touch light but deliberate. "But in the end, you didn't follow through. You didn't kill Dumbledore. That matters."
Draco flinched at her words, as if they carried a weight he wasn't ready to bear. "I don't really deserve you," he murmured again, the words slipping from his lips like an admission he could no longer hold back. "Maybe you should leave. You'll regret this later. After the love potion wears off..."
Once again, Hermione's heart clenched at his words, all she wanted to do was make him feel better. "You deserve to be happy," Hermione whispered, her voice filled with quiet conviction. She met his gaze, holding it, as if daring him to believe her.
Draco's breath caught, his emotions swirling in his silver-grey eyes. He had never imagined that Hermione Granger—the woman he had once mocked, the woman he had been raised to loathe—would be the one to offer him forgiveness. The one to make him feel as if he could be something more than the darkness of his past.
In a surge of emotion, Draco leaned in and kissed her. The kiss was desperate, different from the ones they had shared before. This kiss was filled with longing, sorrow, and the hope of redemption. It was as if he was pouring everything—his fears, his regrets, his desires—into that single moment, seeking something he had never thought he deserved: acceptance.
Hermione responded without hesitation, wrapping her arms around his neck as she pulled him closer. The intensity of the kiss sent shivers down her spine, and she could feel the heat between them building, an undeniable chemistry that neither could resist. It felt different—like they were both seeking solace, a way to escape the heaviness of their pasts, even if just for a moment.
Clothes were discarded, hands exploring, and soon they were lost in each other, their bodies moving together with an unspoken rhythm. It was raw, intense, and overwhelming, leaving Hermione breathless. For the first time in her life, she felt truly connected to someone—not just physically, but emotionally, spiritually. In that moment, there was no war, no past, no future. There was only Draco.
- - - End of Flashback - - -
Back in the present, Hermione sat with her thoughts swirling. How much of that night had been real? How much had been potion-induced? She couldn't help but hope that some part of what they shared had been genuine. If it was real, maybe—just maybe—she could give him a chance. But was Draco telling the truth about his experiences in the Muggle world? Or was it another layer of the complex web of lies surrounding their current situation?
She had to find out the truth, not just for herself — but for the sake of the child growing inside her.
A/N: So this is what happened that night. Hope you enjoyed the chapter. Don't forget to review.