September 2003
Nobody is at the pub when she arrives. Hermione can already hear the light teasing she’ll endure when her friends show up– early to your own birthday celebration? How very on brand for Hermione Granger. She smiles softly to herself, removing her coat to drape it over the back of her chair.
“I hear congratulations may be in order?”
She looks up to see Draco Malfoy standing next to the table, a small wrapped gift in hand. He places it on the table, utters a quick drying charm to remove all evidence of the heavy September rains from his perfectly tailored clothing and takes a seat.
It takes her a few seconds to process his question but once she does, she answers with an aggressive eye roll.
“Don’t believe everything you read in The Prophet – certainly not what they write about me.”
A photo of her– an old photo, mind you– of her wearing gloves had taken up an entire half-page this morning, speculating that her hands were covered to hide an engagement ring.
“I see.” Draco’s eyes narrow and he tilts his head to the side. “The questions are to be expected though, aren't they? Most Weasleys have settled down by your age. Not–not that I’m defending the piece. They should stay out of your business.”
“Yes, the ripe old age of twenty-four. I’m an old maid,” she says drily.
Huffing a laugh, Draco sighs. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”
“I know,” Hermione lifts her palms, “It’s alright.”
The truth is that things with Ron are falling apart though not in the way one might expect. It has been gradual, a slow fraying at the seams rather than an instant shattering. But it’s her birthday, and she doesn’t want to talk about it.
“I’m sorry,” Draco repeats, solemn.
Offering a small smile, Hermione shrugs. She has gotten to know him enough over the past year that she knows he means it, and that he had no ill intent in his remarks.
Scanning his face, she pinches her brows together. “Is your- are you growing your hair out?”
His silver-blond hair is slightly longer than normal, the sides that are usually shorn close to the scalp grown out.
He nods. “Yes, it’s–”
“There she is!” Ginny shouts from the entrance of the pub, jogging in to envelop Hermione in a firm hug. “The birthday girl! Where are the drinks? Let’s get this party going.”
June 2004
“Are you sure I’ve dressed well enough?” Ben fiddles with the collar of his oxford for the hundredth time as they walk from the apparition point. “I mean, Draco sodding Malfoy, he’s as posh as they come, right?”
Hermione sighs, stopping to turn and put her hands on Ben’s shoulders.
This is their tenth date, far enough along to be brought as a plus one to a party, but not quite far enough for Hermione to be completely certain that it’s a good idea.
“Ben, take a breath. My friends– they’re just people. You don’t need to worry.”
He shakes his head. “Sometimes I think you forget how famous you are. I mean Harry Potter is going to be there and-”
“And he hates being treated like a celebrity. We talked about this, right?”
“Yeah, right, just Harry. Treat him like a regular bloke.”
Hermione smiles, endeared by the nerves in her date’s voice. Where others have irritated her with this sort of behaviour, Ben has an earnestness about him that is truly charming.
“Right. It’s just a birthday party.” This is not entirely true; the party is also a homecoming, Draco having been away on assignment for the last six months. “You’ve been to plenty of those.”
Eventually they make it inside, and when Ben gets drawn into a conversation with Ron about quidditch, she excuses herself to find another drink.
“Not going to wish me a happy birthday?”
Hermione starts, nearly spilling her drink. “Merlin, Draco, you shouldn’t sneak up on people like that, you-”
Turning around, her brain freezes momentarily at the sight of him.
He must not have cut his hair once since she has seen him last, the ends now reaching his collarbones, and the top half tied back into a bun.
The entire time she has known him, Hermione has known that Draco Malfoy is attractive. As an adult, he has grown into his features, becoming quite a handsome man.
Objectively, she knows this.
But tonight, standing in front of him for the first time in six months, Hermione realises something brand new: she is attracted to him.
Quite desperately.
“Kneazle got your tongue?” His tone is light, playful.
She is probably imagining the flirtatious look in his eyes. Maybe he has had a bit to drink. It is his party, after all.
“Sorry, no, it’s just- your hair is so long.”
His grin widens. “Who are you, and what have you done with Hermione Granger? I’m back from a six month assignment in France and your first topic of discussion is my hair?”
She laughs. “I’m happy to grill you about your adventures collaborating with another government, but perhaps we’ll save that for another day. I don’t want to bore you with work talk on your birthday.”
Draco steps closer. “There’s nothing I’d like more than for you to try to bore me. I doubt you could.” Her heart skips a beat. He blinks. “But first, we must address the hippogriff in the room.” Tipping his head, Hermione turns to see where he has gestured.
Ron, Lavender, and Ben all stand where she left them, chatting away happily.
“Oh, that’s Ben. It’s fairly new, he was quite nervous to come tonight, given who’s in attendance.”
“Come again?”
“Hm?” Hermione turns to find Draco staring at her, brows drawn in a frown. “What?”
“That- you brought a date?”
Her cheeks heat. “Oh, was I not- my invitation said plus-one, and I checked with Pansy…have I-”
It’s unreal, watching his features smooth themselves over in real time. All traces of confusion or question are suddenly gone, his porcelain skin placid, neutral.
“No, no, I just- I’ve been gone so long, I haven’t caught up on everything yet. I didn’t realise you had a boyfriend.”
“Well, I mean, we haven’t really labelled it yet, but…yeah. Wait- if you weren’t asking about Ben, then what…?”
“I was trying to ask you about Ron and Lavender,” he takes a sip of his drink, “and her very obvious pregnancy.”
With a rueful shake of her head, glances back over at the group of three. The man she is currently dating, her ex-boyfriend, and his heavily pregnant fiancee.
And here she stands next to a good friend of hers that she has just discovered a newfound attraction to.
Merlin.
She swallows her nerves, summons another drink, and recounts the chaotic tale of her breakup with Ron and his ensuing reconnection with Lavender Brown.
New Year’s Eve 2004
“Merlin, his hair is nearly as long as Narcissa’s!” Hermione exclaims, louder than intended.
She has, perhaps, had one too many champagnes, but it has been necessary. A necessary intervention to address the most unfortunate realization following her breakup with Ben, that not only does she find Draco Malfoy attractive, but she has developed feelings for him.
The serious kind.
The kind she wanted but was never quite able to muster with Ron.
Feelings so strong she has been avoiding him as much as she can without drawing undue suspicion, and had considered feigning illness and staying home from the annual New Year’s Eve Gala at Malfoy Manor so as to not see him.
Alas, the secret part inside of her, the yearning, romantic part, -it is New Years after all– won out, so she is here.
Here, and a little tipsy.
Certainly not in any state to act on her newly acquired feelings, but able to feel them nonetheless.
“Oh, yes, Draco’s hair is quite long these days,” Theo nods, looking around them suspiciously before asking, “Can you keep a secret?”
Hermione nods, confused and curious all in one. “Of course.”
“Well, it’s–it’s a bit of a tradition actually.”
“What, having long hair?”
“He told me when we were kids, although he shouldn’t have, it’s one of those ones that is for inside the family only.” Theo wiggles his eyebrows conspiratorially. “Others aren’t supposed to know.”
Looking across the room at Draco, Hermione frowns. “Why is a family tradition of having long hair a secret?”
“ Oh ! Oh, it’s because,” He steps closer, lowering his voice, “Malfoy men stop cutting their hair when they fall in love. Only Merlin knows why, I mean what an odd thing to do, right? But-”
Theo keeps talking but Hermione does not hear a word he says.
She is too preoccupied by the sudden and painful sensation of her heart cracking in two.
Her eyes sting and her pulse pounds in her ears.
Blinking, watching as Theo’s mouth continues to move, Hermione tries to keep from hyperventilating.
“-and it’s- Hermione?” Theo leans forward, eyes wide, “Are you alright? You look a bit peaky.”
“Y-yeah, fine, sorry. You were saying?”
“Well it’s just, I mean it’s been quite a while, right, I mean as you said, look how long his hair has gotten, but when I asked him about it he wouldn’t tell me anything about her. He can’t keep hiding her forever; I’m his oldest friend! But he’s stayed tight-lipped so far.”
“Well maybe-” Hermione gasps, pieces from the last few years suddenly falling into place, “Maybe she’s a Muggle.”
Theo frowns. “What makes you say that?”
Mouth dry, Hermione suddenly feels as if she has actually not had nearly enough champagne.
“Ever since Harry started bringing him around, you know, once they became friends at work, Draco’s been asking me all about Muggle stuff.”
Eyes widening, Theo nods. “Okay, like what?”
“Everything, anything. I helped him set up with the Muggle bank, took him around London, showed him how to use appliances, I mean, Godric, he's been learning to drive a car!” Hermione shakes her head, feeling stupid for not seeing it until now. “What on Earth would a Malfoy need with a car or a credit card unless he was spending a serious amount of time with Muggles?”
“Really? Wow. Wow . Draco Malfoy with a Muggle.” Theo laughs. “Life has an odd way of turning out. Well, either way, I hope I meet her soon…it must be nearly two years now. What a long time to keep a secret.”
Two years.
Two years .
Hermione feels so foolish for even entertaining the thought– for reading into their interactions, his soft smiles, for ever hoping that maybe he could return her feelings.
Excusing herself from Theo, she makes her way to the bar, intent on drowning her newfound sorrows.
August 2005
“He seems like a good man.”
Hermione turns to face him, back to the garden. Drink in hand, Draco shuts the door behind him before coming to stand next to her.
She nods. “I think he is, and I’m glad you think so too.”
And it’s true. Draco is the most discerning, most observant of her friends, and out of everyone, she had been most nervous for the two of them to meet tonight.
His approval of Jeremy means a great deal.
“And you’re happy with him?”
She has to break eye contact at his question, looking down at her feet. His gaze is too perceptive and her resolve too shaky.
Hermione sighs, kicking gently at the gravel beneath their feet. “Happy enough.”
Draco clicks his tongue and lets out a long exhale. Her eyes linger on his hair, nearly at his elbow now, before looking at his face. A slight frown pinches his face.
“You deserve more than happy enough .”
She swallows. “I’m flattered that you think so.”
Mumbling something about getting back to the party, Hermione gives Draco a nod and leaves him in the garden.
February 2006
“Did you want to do something for Valentine’s Day next week?” Hermione asks, looking across the table at Jeremy.
“Oh, well,” he chews his last bite of food, setting his fork down, “I think that depends.”
With a flick of her wand, their now empty plates fly slowly to the sink and begin washing themselves.
“Depends on what?”
“On your answer.”
She narrows her eyes. “My answer to what?”
Jeremy smiles softly, reaching into his pocket. He gently places a small velvet box on the table and slides it to her. “Will you marry me?”
Breath caught in her throat, Hermione feels as if she is outside her body. She watches herself pick up the box.
Open it.
Gasp, then quietly compliment the choice of ring.
Then she is suddenly, violently thrust back into her body and the weight in her gut and fire in her chest threaten to split her in two.
“I…I can’t.”
The words surprise her, seeming to exit her mouth of their own accord, but once they are spoken she realises it's the truth.
Happy enough is enough for now, but not for a lifetime.
Certainly not for Jeremy’s lifetime. Sitting across from him at the table in their shared flat, one that felt like home as soon as they moved in in November, Hermione begins to cry quietly.
He deserves better than this.
~~~
When she sits down, the park is empty. The hour too early and the weather too brisk for any families.
The breeze is harsh against her cheeks, and she relishes its sting.
“Granger?”
As if she needed the knife twisted any further, Draco stands in front of her. Dressed casually in dark jeans and a heather grey peacoat, his long hair tied back in an artfully messy bun.
“Hey,” she says weakly, “what are you doing here?”
“I come here sometimes,” he gestures behind them, “that cafe you brought us to that one time is just around the corner. I like their croissants.”
Hermione swallows, wondering if he has brought her to that cafe. Does she like croissants too?
“I see.” Sliding over, Hermione pats the space beside her on the bench.
Warmth seems to bleed off him when he takes a seat next to her.
“Are you alright?” His question is quiet but somehow, urgent too. As if the despair making a home inside her chest is visible to the naked eye.
Letting out a low hum, she closes her eyes. “Jeremy proposed last night.”
“Oh.” She hears him clear his throat. “Well, congratulations, then.”
“Not quite.” She sighs, turning to look at him. The smile he offers her is tight. “I turned him down. We broke up.”
“Ah.” He exhales and looks away, out at the empty park. She stares at his side profile long enough that he turns back and raises a brow. “What is it?”
“You’re not going to say ‘I told you so’?”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because you knew. Right when you first met him in August. I don’t know how you did but you knew. You knew it wouldn’t be enough.”
He is quiet for nearly an entire minute, and then shrugs. “You’re my–we’re friends. I would never gloat over your heartbreak.”
“Heartbreak.” Yes. That’s what she should be feeling. Her heart should be broken. In reality she is just disappointed. Disappointed that she couldn’t make it work with a perfectly decent man, a man who loves her. Again. She should stop herself but she can’t, the words are out before she can think, and she says “It doesn’t hurt as much as-” and she catches herself there.
It doesn’t hurt as much as that conversation with Theo on New Year’s Eve .
Hermione swallows, darting her eyes to Draco’s briefly before shaking her head. “Nevermind.”
“And how did he take it? Jeremy, I mean.”
“Unexpectedly well. He’s being a real gentleman about it all.” Her heart shrivels inside her chest at her cowardice. What is wrong with her? “Maybe I should’ve married him. He really is a good man.” Draco says nothing, and after a few beats of silence, her morbid curiosity gets the best of her. “Will you ever marry?”
“Perhaps.”
Emboldened by lack of sleep and self-loathing, Hermione barrels on. “Theo told me, you know. About your tradition- the hair.” His eyes widen and she continues, “you don’t need to worry, I’m sure she’s perfectly nice, great, even, if you’re in love with her. I’m sure we will all really like her. Whenever you finally bring her around.”
Draco’s sigh betrays exhaustion that his appearance does not. “He shouldn’t have said anything, though given his propensity for gossip I’m just glad the entire world doesn’t know.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone- I haven’t.” Pulling her knees into her chest, she asks the question she has been dying to ask since that party over a year ago. “H-how long has it been? Since you stopped cutting your hair.”
He sighs again. “Three years next month.”
The chill that seeps into her core, numbing her from the inside out, has nothing to do with the February air.
“Wow.” Moisture gathers in her eyes and she lies to herself, repeating over and over that it must be from the wind, from the lack of sleep, from the breakup. Hermione is not sure how long they sit there, but it’s long enough that kids arrive at the park and chatter of families and friends fills the air. With a tired sigh, she stands from the bench. “I better be getting back; I need to help Jeremy pack up his things.”
Looking up at her, Draco opens his mouth then closes it, seeming to change his mind about whatever he was going to say. Finally, “Take care of yourself, Hermione.”
“Sure, I-I’ll try.”
Only on the walk home does it occur to her that Draco did not ask her why she turned Jeremy down, and she is belatedly grateful for his tact.
After all the emotional turmoil of the last twelve hours, Hermione knows she could not have lied to him.
May 2006
Frantic, loud knocking at the front door of her flat forces her to pause the television.
“Yes, what is i– Draco?” She frowns at the sight of him, wide eyed.
It’s Friday. He should be at the pub with their friends.
“Granger, hi,” he peers through the doorway, “Are you alone?”
“Yes, wh-”
“May I come in?”
He is halfway in the door before she answers a tentative “okay.”
Surveying the flat slowly, it takes nearly half a minute before he turns fully back to face her.
“You weren’t at the pub.”
“Obviously,” she replies flatly.
Draco frowns. “Neville said you had a date.”
“That’s right.”
“I see.” He sighs. “Well, how did it go?”
She cannot help the exasperated sigh that leaves her lips. “Why are you here, Draco? At my flat? Shouldn’t you be at the pub? It’s only half-eight.”
He blinks and an expression of deep thought crosses his face. Scanning her figure up and down, surely noting the frayed sleep shorts, oversized Oxford hoodie, and messy bun, his eyes narrow. Blinking once more, his eyes turn to the left, to the paused television and the half-empty box of pizza on the coffee table.
Finally, his expression smooths.
“It’s only half-eight,” he repeats back to her, as if that is important.
“Yes?”
“So, either you had the shortest date ever, or…you didn’t have one at all.”
“Maybe–it went poorly,” even she can hear how unconvincing she is being, “and I ended it early.”
He swallows. “Did you have a date tonight, Hermione?”
“Merlin, what is your problem? ” Stalking angrily to the couch, she falls back into the cushions with a huff.
She jumps slightly when she realises he has followed her, taking the empty spot to her right.
“So you didn’t-”
“ No , alright? I didn’t have a date. I lied so that I could skip pub night and stay home. Okay? Are you happy? What did I do to earn such an interrogation?”
“Why? Why did you want to skip it?”
Groaning, she flashes him a frustrated look and crosses her arms. “Because it’s too much. It’s just getting to be too much and I needed a break. I need to be away-”
“What’s too much?”
Scrubbing her hands harshly down her face, she shakes her head before turning to face him. “I didn’t think it would bother me so much, but it does. Gin and Lavender are both pregnant, again , Dean’s about to propose, Neville got a promotion and he’s getting married in the summer, Luna and Rolf are about to go on another trip, and you’re- I’m the only single friend and sometimes it just hurts , alright?”
Draco is quiet, as if carefully turning over each of her words in his head, then, he tilts his head to the side.
“I’m single.”
Hermione scoffs. “That does not co- hold on. You’re not with her?”
“With whom?”
“ Her . You know, the woman. The one you’re in love with.”
His sigh is tired. “No.”
She didn’t know it was possible for a single syllable to contain so much emotion.
Yearning. Devotion. Hope, perhaps.
“Why not?” She shakes her head. “You know what, no, that doesn’t matter, we don’t have to- why are you here, Draco?”
“I had to come, as soon as Neville said- I had to come and see for myself if it was too late. If I’d missed my chance, again .”
“Your chance–to what?”
“To ask you to dinner.”
His words hang between them, nearly a tangible thing, but no matter how hard she tries, Hermione cannot make sense of them.
Her frown is so deep that it must border on a scowl.
“You want to go to dinner?”
“Yes.”
“As in, on a date?”
“Yes.”
She shakes her head. “Don’t be ridiculous, Draco, what about her? ”
He scoffs, a look of disbelief painting his face as he shakes his head. “It was March 7th, 2003. I’d had a standing invite to pub night for about six months at that time, but had only started regularly in January. Everyone was still wary around me, despite Harry vouching for me, which was fine, honestly, it was better than I expected. I was-
“Draco, what-”
“Just let me tell you,” he holds a hand up, eyes pleading, “Please, just let me.” She nods, and he continues. “Everyone was wary, a bit cold, except for you and Luna.” He smiles softly and shakes his head. “Anyways, it was March 7th, and that night I sat next to you. You remembered my drink order, admonished the waitress for giving me dirty looks, and vanished all the olives from my plate of nachos.”
He says these things with reverence, as if such simple things are somehow of critical importance to him.
“You don’t like olives,” she whispers softly, and he nods.
“And then, and then , you asked me about the case I was working on, and you really listened to what I had to say. I couldn't remember the last time-” He takes a deep breath, and when he exhales, something she is certain she has never seen before crosses his face. Something wistful. “I fell in love with you then, and I haven’t cut my hair since.”
Hermione blanches, her mind somehow moving incredibly fast and glacially slow at the same time.
“You–but you said-” she sputters, her breaths coming faster, “but she’s a Muggle!”
Draco frowns. “Says who?”
“Says me, says- you asked me all those things…” Words are hard to find as her entire world tilts on its axis and she scrambles to understand everything he has just told her. “We went into London all those times, and I helped you with the bank and you-”
“I wanted to spend time with you.”
“You-” Tears fall from her eyes as she gapes at him, she cannot help it.
She never let herself imagine, not even in her most secret daydreams, that this might happen. For what is perhaps one of the first and certainly most significant times in her life, Hermione Granger, is woefully unprepared.
“Oh, don’t cry, Granger, I’m sorry I- I just thought if I was ever to be part of your life, knowing my way around the Muggle world would be good. So I could fit.”
At that, she starts sobbing in earnest, burying her face in her hands. Nearly doubled over on the sofa, she rocks back and forth as everything she has hidden, everything she had pretended not to feel erupts to the surface.
Hermione thinks she might explode.
Time loses all meaning as she weeps, the outpouring of emotion taking minutes or an hour or a week.
Eventually, the tears stop.
She wipes her face and sits up.
Draco is still seated next to her, face drawn in concern.
“Sorry, I’m sorry Draco, I-”
Palms raised in surrender, he shakes his head. “It’s alright. It’s alright, Hermione. I don’t expect anything from you, and I’m terribly sorry to have upset you. That was not my intention.” He stands from the sofa. “I’ll see myself out, and-”
Wrapping her fingers around his wrist, she tugs gently. “No, no . No, you can’t leave.”
He sighs. “I really didn’t mean to upset you, I think it’s best if-”
“ Don’t you dare leave .” She pulls on his arm more insistently. “Sit back down.”
“I–okay.”
Grabbing a few kleenex from the coffee table, Hermione blows her nose, wipes her face, and applies a gentle cooling charm to her cheeks. Squaring her shoulders, she looks at Draco dead on.
“Okay. Okay, so you– March 7th, 2003.” She shakes her head. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
He shrugs. “You were with Ron.”
“But, after?”
“You broke up right before I had my assignment in France, and when I got back-”
“Ben.”
He nods. “You were with Ben, and then you broke up and I didn’t know, I mean how long is enough time after a breakup to ask someone on a date? And then you started avoiding me so my resolve wavered, and then by the time I got it back you were with Jeremy.”
The sadness in his voice has a visceral effect, the full weight of everything making her feel dizzy.
March 7th, 2003.
I fell in love with you then .
Draco is in love with her.
“Draco-” fresh tears well in her eyes and she shakes her head, “My heart-my heart broke on New Year’s, when Theo told me. I thought I’d never- I gave up any tiny, buried hope that I had for us. This entire time, I thought- I thought you loved somebody else.”
“There is nobody else, Hermione. Just you.”
“Merlin,” her cheeks are wet once more, but this time she welcomes them. Welcomes the feeling of relief that floods her bloodstream. “Merlin, what a pair of idiots we are.”
He frowns. “Both of us? Why?”
“Because I love you , you dolt. I love you too .”
Making a confused sound, Draco blinks several times.
Then, the widest, most genuine, joyful grin she has ever seen appears on his face.
“You do?”
She nods in earnest. “I do. I love you. So much.”
He laughs and it’s the most beautiful sound she has ever heard.
~~~
Later, after a frantic shag on the couch and another more tender go round in the bed, they lie together, her cheek against his bare chest as she traces the scars on his skin.
The beat of his heart lulls her into near sleep, but she shakes herself awake enough to prop herself up and look at him.
He notices her staring but does not say anything, simply gazes back with a soft smile on her face.
“How long would you have waited?”
“For you?” Draco shrugs. “How long is a piece of string? Years. Forever. Into the next lifetime if I had to.”