Chapter 3: The Morning After (Draco)

Draco Malfoy woke with a pounding headache, the kind that seemed to echo through every part of his skull. Blinking against the sunlight filtering through the curtains, he found himself in a familiar, albeit slightly disheveled, room. The flat was unmistakably his—a sleek, modern space that felt distinctly Muggle. Yet something about the morning seemed off. He never brought witches here; he always kept his Muggle life separate from his magical one.

He looked around, trying to piece together the events of the previous night. He was certain he had been at the Leaky Cauldron, but he couldn't remember how he ended up here or who he had brought with him. His mind struggled to recall the witch's face or name, but one thing was clear: he had felt a rare, exhilarating connection. It had felt like he finally found the woman of his dreams.

With a groan, Draco forced himself out of bed and reached for a potion he kept for hangovers. As he drank it, he considered heading out to his favorite Muggle breakfast spot, Urban Bite, hoping that some fresh air and a hearty meal would clear his head and help him piece together the foggy memories of the previous night.

When Draco arrived at Urban Bite, the familiar aroma of freshly brewed coffee and sizzling bacon greeted him. He took a deep breath, allowing the comforting smells to ground him as he took a seat by the window. As he sipped his coffee and nibbled on a buttery croissant, fragments of the previous night began to resurface. The more he ate, the clearer his memories became.

Draco recalled the night with a strange mixture of clarity and haze, the way her laugh had seemed to wrap around him, drawing him in closer. They had been sitting together, their words flowing as easily as the drinks. He couldn't quite remember how they ended up so close, her fingers tracing the lines of his Dark Mark as if it was the most normal thing to do. The room felt warmer, his senses dulled, and yet every touch, every glance, seemed amplified.

Without thinking, Draco had leaned in, his voice softer than usual, filled with an unfamiliar vulnerability. "I don't really deserve you, you know that, right?" he had murmured, the words slipping out before he could stop them. The confession startled him as much as it did her, a raw admission that felt oddly right in that moment. Her proximity, the way she looked at him, made him feel seen in a way he hadn't experienced before.

She had paused, her brow furrowing slightly as if considering his words, then shook her head, her voice steady but gentle. "You were a child, Draco. You're not responsible for your father's mistakes," she had said, her fingers clutching his arm while resting her head on his shoulder, grounding him in that surreal moment. "You deserve to be happy, Draco, regardless of your past."

Her words had struck him with an intensity that lingered, echoing in his mind long after they were spoken. It was as though she had reached inside him, touching a part of his heart he hadn't known was still capable of feeling. The connection between them had felt real, tangible, even as his mind drifted in and out of focus, caught in a confusing swirl of emotions.

As the night wore on, their conversation had meandered between moments of deep connection and bouts of laughter that seemed to burst from them without reason. There was an ease between them, a strange sense of comfort that felt both right and completely out of place. He found himself leaning closer, brushing a strand of hair from her face, marveling at how natural the gesture felt.

But even in the warmth of that moment, a part of him questioned it, wondered why he was acting this way. Yet the thought was fleeting, lost in the soft glow of her smile and the warmth of her hand in his. He couldn't explain it, didn't want to think too deeply about it. All he knew was that, in those nothing else mattered.

Her sincerity had disarmed him, left him feeling exposed and oddly content, as if for that night, the weight of the past and the expectations of the future had simply melted away. And though the rational part of him knew something was off, that this wasn't how he normally acted, he couldn't deny the strange, intoxicating pull that kept him close to her.

For once, it felt like he had encountered a witch who genuinely believed in him, rather than one interested in his wealth or looks. Most witches who showed interest in him seemed to be motivated by his money or status. Those who were decent enough to truly care typically avoided him due to his dark legacy. But this witch—he had felt, without a doubt, that she wasn't after his money. He couldn't understand how he knew this, but he was certain that her feelings for him were genuine.

As Draco mulled over these thoughts, a sense of hope and confusion mingled within him. For the first time in a long while, he felt like he had found someone who saw him for who he really was, not just for his family's history or his wealth. But the problem was, he couldn't remember her name or her face. He could remember her eyes, her smile, her voice—which was oddly familiar—and her touch, but not her face, not her name.

"Shit," he thought. "How can I find her without knowing that?" He prayed to whatever deity was listening to help him remember who it was.

Returning to his flat in the wizarding world, Draco was greeted by Pansy and Blaise, who was already there.

Blaise, raising an eyebrow, remarked, "You look like you had quite a good time."

Draco, despite not knowing the identity of the women he liked, couldn't help but grin. "I did. I think I might have found the love of my life."

Pansy and Blaise exchanged a knowing glance, masking their amusement. Blaise asked, "Really? What makes you so sure?"

Draco leaned back, his expression dreamy. "She doesn't care about my money or my past. She was different. She accepted me for who I am. And oh my god Blaise I never felt this way about a woman before. I might be in love."

Pansy raised an eyebrow, her voice tinged with skepticism. "You know it's not real, right? Hermione Granger isn't going to fall for you just because of a stupid love potion."

Draco laughed, but it was a hollow sound this time, lacking the genuine amusement from before. "You're telling me Hermione Granger is the woman of my dreams? Oh my god, that's hilarious. I'm not going to fall for that, just because I can't remember who she is. But don't worry, I have a plan to find her."

Blaise's expression shifted from bemusement to concern, and he exchanged a quick glance with Pansy before speaking. "Draco, you missed a crucial detail about the love potion."

Draco's smile faltered, confusion beginning to set in. "Love potion? What are you talking about?"

Pansy's tone became more serious, the skepticism replaced by a hint of pity. "Yes, Ron put a love potion in the drinks with the hopes of getting back with Hermione. But you drank one instead."

Draco's face drained of color, his world seeming to tilt on its axis. "No, it can't be. She can't be Hermione Granger. There can't be a love potion. I can't be in love with Hermione Granger because of a love potion. No, tell me you're joking. Please, Blaise. This is a joke, right?"

Pansy folded her arms, her gaze steady as she watched Draco grapple with the information. "I wish it were a joke, Draco. But it's the truth. Think about it—why else would you be so convinced you've found the love of your life after just one night? Especially with someone like Hermione Granger."

Draco shook his head vehemently, refusing to accept it. "No, you don't understand. What I felt—it was real. It wasn't some potion-induced fantasy. I've had love potions used on me before. I know what they feel like. This wasn't that. It was different, genuine."

Blaise sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as if trying to find the right words. "Mate, I get that it felt real. That's the thing about love potions—they play on your deepest desires, make you feel like you've found exactly what you've always wanted. But it's an illusion. That's what they do."

Draco's eyes darted between his friends, his heart pounding in his chest. "No, this isn't right. I wouldn't fall for Hermione Granger. I don't even like her. We've never been anything but enemies. This… this connection I felt… it's too strong to be fake. You have to believe me. I found the woman of my dreams and it's not hermione granger. Stop this sick joke. It's not funny anymore !"

Pansy softened her stance slightly, her voice gentle yet firm. "Draco, we're not joking. Yesterday after Harry made Ron spill the truth we looked everywhere for you and granger. We couldnt find you. We were worried. Why else do you think we will be in your apartment on a Saturday morning. You know I like to sleep in on Saturdays. I am here because I was worried. We couldn't sleep last night because of what happened. Believe me. This is not a joke"

"It's true" said Blaise "I know you want this to be a joke after all the struggles in your love life. But it's not. We wouldn't play such a cruel joke. We want you to be happy draco."

"your emotions are intense right now. But you have to understand that they're not entirely your own." explained Pancy. " The potion amplifies your emotions, twists them. You might think you're in love, but it's the potion talking, not you."

Draco's mind raced as he tried to reconcile his memories and feelings with what his friends were telling him. He recalled the way she had spoken to him last night, the sincerity in her voice, the warmth in her eyes. It had felt so real, so right. Could it really have been a lie? A trick of the mind?

Draco's breathing became shallow, his eyes wild as he searched for some indication that they were joking, some sign that he was being played. But all he saw was sincerity and worry in their faces.

"No… it can't be…" Draco whispered, more to himself than to them. The certainty that had filled him earlier was now crumbling, replaced by a gnawing dread.

Pansy stepped forward, placing a hand on his arm in a rare show of comfort. "I know this is hard to accept, Draco. But you have to trust us. What you're feeling… it's not real. At least, not entirely. The potion is making you believe it is."

Draco sank into a chair, his mind reeling from the revelation. How could everything that had felt so true be nothing more than the product of a potion? It didn't make sense. But then again, nothing about this situation did.

Blaise leaned in, his voice low and calm, as if speaking to a child. "Draco, it looks like the potion hasn't completely worn off yet. That's why you're feeling this way. Get some rest, mate. We can talk more once it's out of your system."

Draco's gaze drifted to the floor, his thoughts in turmoil. Could it be true? Was he really just under the influence of a potion, chasing after a fantasy that wasn't real? A fantasy that involved Hermione Granger?

A/N: Thanks for reading. Please Review.