We Were Gold

Her words rang in my ears, echoing off the sides of my skull: We’re done, we’re done, we’re done, we’re done. I felt like a drowning man finally breaking the surface, a new appreciation for the air in my lungs. Hermione Granger, never one to let anyone do for her what she can do for herself, realised how much the weasel king was dragging her down and ended their engagement on her terms. The bright, generous, beautiful woman that I had fallen in love with was free from a man who had never appreciated her truly; one who was content to let her stifle herself at his side, existing only as a prop on his arm.

I blinked, and she was standing in front of me, looking at me worriedly. “I’m so glad that you’re okay. I was so worried when I heard you were in hospital,” she murmured, tears in her eyes. Tears that reignited my rage with Weasley, my bloodlust screaming for a duel.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I pulled her in tightly for a one-armed hug, allowing myself the indulgence of pressing my lips to her hair, inhaling the scent of her conditioner that had haunted my fantasies since our last year of school. I released her far sooner than I would have liked, not daring enough to cling to her like I so desperately desired. I watched her and Ginevra disappear into Potter’s office before I looked at the men in front of me.

Robards was standing still as a statue, arms crossed, regarding Weaselbee as though he was something dragged in on the sole of his shoe. Potter’s cheeks were still flushed with rage, his glasses askew, and disastrous hair on the verge of becoming a Gordian knot. I sighed, suddenly exhausted, the day catching up to me all at once. My shoulder was beginning to ache, and Granger’s Episkey on my cheek, effective as it had been, had done nothing for the throbbing in my head caused by Weasley’s fist.

“Auror Malfoy, it’s been a long day, especially with your injuries. Before you begin your mandated five days leave, I need to know if you would like to press charges against Auror Weasley here,” Potter said grimly, looking very much like a man who had defeated the Dark Lord twice, as he nudged the chair Weasley was bound to with his toe.

He deserved it; he had drunkenly interfered with an active auror investigation, nearly gotten the two of us killed, refused to follow the instructions I had given him, stunned me at close range, and assaulted me again with a room full of witnesses. I could watch him lose everything he held so dear; his friendship with Potter and the accompanying social standing, his beloved ‘fans’ turning on him when they learned the truth of how he treated Britain’s Golden Girl. I pictured Granger’s face when she saw my gleeful vindication, realising I was still the boy from school.

“No, not this time,” I replied, taking a menacing step towards Weasley. “Next time, Weasel, you won’t catch me off guard. Next time, you’ll see exactly what I learned as His youngest Death Eater.”

I turned sharply, returning to the lift before Potter or Robards could reprimand me for my threat. “I’ll send you my report tomorrow, Potter,” I called as the doors closed on the bullpen.

I leaned my head against the wall of the lift, closing my eyes and succumbing to the day. I dragged my feet to the floo before calling out the address of my mother’s London townhouse. The thought of going to the Manor to recover was unappealing, although I knew she would meet me there as soon as she felt my presence through the wards.

A soft mewl greeted me as soon as I stepped out of the grate. Pollux sniffed my dragonhide boots before rubbing his head against my leg. I looked up to see my mother sitting stiffly on the sofa facing the fireplace, fingers clenched together tightly in her lap, knuckles gone white.

“I’m fine, Mum,” I said, narrowly avoiding stepping on the kitten as I made my way across the room. “Practically healed already.”

She relaxed when I sat on the couch opposite, reaching for a glass of wine on the coffee table, hand shaking slightly. “You promised me that you would be careful, Draco,” she said sternly, glaring at me over the rim of her glass as she took a sip.

“And I was careful as can be. Where’s your firewhiskey, Mother?” I asked, glancing at the bar cart where her crystal decanters were noticeably absent.

“I spoke with the healer that discharged you. She advised no alcohol until your shoulder is healed,” she sniffed. “So, I’ve removed all sources of temptation for you whilst you convalesce.”

“Mother-” I started warningly.

She openly rolled her eyes at that, all decorum forgotten. “Don’t start with me, Draco. You came to me to look after you whilst you recover, therefore you will be following my rules. No alcohol, no strenuous activity, no lifting, et cetera. I could be convinced to turn a blind eye were you to invite Miss Granger to your chambers.”

“Mother!” I hissed in a strangled voice, colour rushing to my face.

She shrugged, taking another sip of wine. “I don’t have any interest in listening to your denial, Draco. The girl visited you in hospital, for Circe’s sake, engagement be damned. She was very impressed by the figure you cut, even whilst supine.”

My ears perked up. “She visited me at Mungo’s?”

“We sat together at your bedside for a bit. A lovely witch, Draco, truly an excellent choice. I think she cares deeply for you, as much as she may have supressed it. Your children would be absolutely beautiful, with her colouring, and your bone structure.”

I shook the image of a tow-headed, curly-haired toddler with freckles across the bridge of her nose out of my mind, focussing instead on the tiny claws digging into my shin. “Lonely, Mum?” I asked, scooping Pollux up and settling him in my lap. He promptly curled up and closed his eyes, little pink tongue poking out of his mouth.

“I didn’t know when you would be back to feed the creature, and I certainly didn’t want its carcass stinking up your home.” The softness in her expression as she watched him doze belied her harsh words.  

I leaned my head against the back of the sofa, allowing my eyes to close as I absently stroked the cat with my good hand. “She broke the engagement, just now,” I mused, refusing to open my eyes and see the elation on my mother’s face at the news.

“Did she now? She must be feeling quite low, Draco, in need of companionship and support. From there, it should be easy enough to transition to lovers-”

“Please, I beg of you, do not refer to any witch in my personal life as my ‘lover,” I shuddered, sitting upright. “She’s staying with the Potters, so she’ll be overrun with companionship and support. She’ll have no need for me.”

My mother rolled her eyes again. “Draco, honestly, some days I wonder how you can function amongst all of the ennui you constantly drown yourself in. The girl is clearly attracted to you at the very least and finds your company enjoyable. Allow yourself to be happy; the opportunity is quite literally in front of you, waiting for you to take advantage. As singularly exceptional as you deem yourself to be, you are not the only one who has realised what a catch a witch like Miss Granger is. Someone else, someone less self-disparaging, is going to act on it. I simply cannot continue to watch you pine, it is exhausting.”

I nodded, exhaling forcefully. “I expect I’ll be hearing the same speech from Potters One and Two and Lord and Lady Nott once the news becomes public. I just don’t know how to let her know that I’m interested, Mother. What could I even say to her that would convey how deeply-”

“Merlin and Morgana, Draco! This conversation is tiresome. You are a grown man, act like it. It’s as if you have never spoken to a witch before, when I know for a fact that you have bedded several. Drink this,” she handed me a flask. I downed it in one. “It’s pain relief with a touch of Dreamless Sleep. Mipsy has prepared your usual room.”

I stood, pressing a kiss to her cheek before bidding her goodnight and making my way to the second-floor bedroom I had claimed when she moved out of the Manor. I didn’t bother to undress before collapsing face-down onto the mattress. I fell asleep wishing that my pillowcase smelled like Granger’s hair.

I awoke to a dark room and reached for my wand. According to my Tempus it had just gone 3:00 in the morning. My shoulder was aching as I sat up, trying my hardest not to dislodge Pollux who had made himself incredibly comfortable on my pillow. I stretched as best as I could, and sat at the desk across the room, summoning parchment and a quill with ink.

Dear Hermione,

I know it’s the middle of the night, but I can’t help but think that you’re also awake. Forgive me if I’ve woken you, but there are things that must be said.

Firstly, as someone who cannot bear to see you upset, I hope you’re doing as well as you can, and are comfortable in your decision to call off your engagement. As a friend, I cannot emphasize enough how much I support your decision, nor how much happier I believe you will be now that you’ve unyoked yourself from the ginger weasel. You deserve more Hermione, someone who will respect you, and love you, and allow you to blossom into the witch you’re destined to be.

Secondly, you need to contact the Daily Prophet. You need to release a statement, by yourself, announcing the end of your engagement in your own words. Getting ahead of this before it hits the front page and before Weasley tells ‘his side’ of the story is crucial; this will be the talk of the town, and you will need to address it. Doing so early will eliminate the need to speak on it later or defend yourself against any slanderous statements from your former fiancé.

Truly, you are a wonderful witch, someone whose air I am lucky to share, and things will only improve for you from here on out.

Yours always,

Draco Malfoy

I called for Mipsy and handed her the letter; she was paid handsomely, and I hadn’t the foggiest where my mother kept her owl. I laid back down, resting my cheek against Pollux’s silky fur, and gradually fell back asleep, visions of pink, plump lips dancing in my head.

* * *

Large, bulbous eyes were all I could see when I awoke several hours later. They crinkled into a smile when they saw that I was awake.

“Master Draco, you has company in the sitting room,” Mipsy squeaked before disappearing with a pop.

I sat up, shoulder throbbing, running a hand through my hair. I was still in my clothes from the day before, and I could kill for a hot shower. Whatever company had arrived unannounced could certainly wait for me to sluice off the dirt and sweat and blood from yesterday. I stripped as quickly as I could one-handed, gingerly sliding my right arm out of my sleeve before wandlessly starting the shower. I stepped under the spray, turning it as hot as I could tolerate, bowing my head and allowing it to beat down on my shoulders. I half-heartedly lathered myself, content to just stand under the hot water, allowing it to rinse off the residue of Dark Magic from the afternoon before.

“Darling it’s rude to wank when company is waiting,”

“Merlin’s tits, Theo! Don’t sneak up on a man whilst he’s in the shower!”

I turned off the tap, and pulled back the curtain, unashamed with my nudity. Theo and I had shared a dormitory during the years when we perfected masturbation; there was no part of me that he hadn’t seen up close and personally. I wrapped a towel around my waist awkwardly, herding him out of the bathroom and into the bedroom.

“I know Mipsy told you that we were here,” Pansy scolded, having made herself comfortable in my unmade bed.

“Just what every invalid wants: a nagging married couple turning up unexpectedly,” I said, rolling my eyes. I selected pants and a pair of loose-fitting pyjama bottoms, turning my back to the two of now canoodling on my bed and dropping my towel. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

“We came to your bedside the second that we heard, but you were unconscious. Narcissa filled us in on your condition and asked that we give you the night to recover before checking on you ourselves, so et voila, here we are,” Pansy explained while examining her manicure. “Did you get the shirt?”

I nodded, throwing myself into the armchair facing the bed. “Thanks, Pans. As you can see, I am still in one piece. Was there anything else you needed, or are you just here to irritate?”

It was Theo’s turn to roll his eyes. “Oh, you know, just your thoughts on the breakup of the century, the one that leaves the witch you’ve been very obviously pining for completely unattached and available for the first time since the two of you have been on speaking terms.”

“How do you know about that?” I asked sharply, worried that the news had broken without Hermione’s knowledge.

Pansy tossed today’s edition of the Prophet at me. “We have eyes and a reading comprehension level above that of a crup.”

I caught it easily, straightening to read the front page.

The Golden Couple No More

By Rita Skeeter

In a shock announcement, Hermione Granger has confirmed that her engagement to Ronald Weasley has ended. The couple have been together since the Battle of Hogwarts, which led to the defeat of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named at the hands of Harry Potter, having been close friends since their first year at school. Granger, a barrister with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, has been hailed as the ‘Brightest Witch of Her Age’ since she was attending Hogwarts, and has successfully argued over two dozen cases in front of the Wizengamot. Weasley, brother of Ginevra (chaser for the Holyhead Harpies and married to Harry Potter), is an auror, having joined the DMLE immediately after the defeat of You-Know-Who.

Those closest to the former couple have yet to publicly comment on Granger’s statement but reports that Weasley was escorted from the Ministry of Magic yesterday after being suspended for gross misconduct have been corroborated by numerous sources. Granger, who has previously been linked to international quidditch star Viktor Krum by this reporter, has declined further requests for an interview, citing a desire for privacy during this difficult time.

It should surprise no one that Granger, while famously indifferent to the spotlight, is expected to be the most sought-after witch in Wizarding Britain, having grown into her looks. Cormac McLaggan, Assistant to the Deputy Head of the British and Irish Quidditch League, has expressed his interest in the newly single Granger, saying, “I’ve had my eye on her for years, but only respect for Weasley has stopped me from making my move. Now that she’s fair game, well, let’s just say I’ve come to win.”

Next to the article was a picture of Granger at a previous ministry gala, pushing the camera out of her face on a loop while Weasley stood at her side like a drunken baboon, with a caption that read: For Hermione Granger’s official statement on her broken engagement, turn to page 5. I immediately rifled through the paper until I found the correct page. Underneath a photo of Weasley leaning against a broomstick while Granger stood next to him, arms crossed and looking distinctly unimpressed, was her statement.

A Note from the Desk of Hermione J Granger

I am saddened to announce that Ronald Weasley and I have ended our engagement. There are no words to express how meaningful a role that Ronald has played in my life, and I am certain that I would not be the witch that I am today without his loyalty and friendship. There is no salacious story, simply two people who have fallen out of love. I request at this time, that you afford us privacy to handle this in our own time.

Short, sweet, and not entirely inaccurate; she had done well. I closed the paper and folded it carefully, well aware of the eyes of the Notts boring into my skull.

“Well?” Theo asked after a long silence, unable to contain himself any longer.

“Well, what?” I asked unhelpfully. Theo was incredibly easy to frustrate, and it was one of my favourite ways to entertain myself.

“Well, what are you going to do about her single status?” He pressed, the hint of a whine audible underneath the otherwise perfectly polished syllables.

“She’s just come out of a three-year relationship with someone she had had a crush on for years prior. I imagine she’s quite fragile at the moment, and not looking to immediately jump into another relationship. She’ll need time to heal,” I replied sullenly. “So, I imagine I will continue to do what I’ve done since our seventh year: be a shoulder to cry on, an ear to vent frustrations to, and a fount of advice when needed. I’m her friend, regardless of whether or not she wants to shag me, and I won’t allow my desire for her to interfere with our friendship. I haven’t thus far.”

“She’ll appreciate that, Draco,” Pansy said thoughtfully. “No woman wants to think a man is feigning interest in her friendship when he’s actually trying to get her into bed. However, at some point, you will need to make your feelings explicitly clear. You can’t live like this forever, Draco, watching her from the shadows, knowing that you could make her happy but never giving her the chance to see it.”

“And I will tell her, eventually. I just need time to sort it all out.”

“What’s there to sort out, mate? You love her, have done for years, and now she’s single.”

“When I tell her that I love her, Theo, and that I have done so for years, as you’ve helpfully pointed out, there is every chance in the world that she rejects me. She doesn’t want to ruin our friendship, or that she’s never seen me in such a light, or whatever the excuse is. And I need to sort out whether or not I’ll be able to maintain that friendship once she knows but doesn’t reciprocate. Then, I’ll have to mourn the loss of a friendship, on top of unrequited love. I’m not saying that I’ll silently pine until I marry a woman I could never love and produce the required heir before wiling away the rest of my life with curly-haired mistresses to fill the gap she leaves in my life, I’m just saying I need some time.”

Both Notts looked at me then, something akin to pity in their eyes, before Pansy changed the subject.

“Does anyone know anything about the Weasley being suspended situation? I’m dying to know the details of that downfall.”

I chuckled. “Funny you should ask, actually.”

* * *

Forty-five minutes later, I saw Theo and Pansy to the floo before making my way down to the dining room. I hadn’t eaten anything yesterday, and I was ravenous, willing to tolerate my mother’s unsubtle comments about Granger so long as it meant food.

“Draco, darling, how kind of you to join me this afternoon,” she said, pouring herself a cup of tea at the head of the table. “I was worried that I’d given you Draught of Living Death instead of Dreamless Sleep.”

I rolled my eyes, reaching for a platter of bacon and accepting two fried eggs from Mipsy. “Theo and Pansy send their love and apologise that they weren’t able to stay for tea.” I grabbed a croissant off a plate of pastries to my left.

“Oh, that’s alright. We had a lovely chat while you were attending to things in your shower.”

“Circe, Mother! I am not so hard up for witches that I need to wank in my mother’s home, thank you very much,” I said, nearly choking on a chipolata I had just taken a bite of.

“Of course, Draco, of course. I’m just aware that yesterday was obviously a harrowing experience, not to mention life-threatening, and if you needed to-”

I held up my hand, cutting her off for the first time in my life. “I am fine. Sore and achy, but completely fine, Mum. I know you were worried, and I’m sorry for that, but this is going to be a very normal part of my job from now on. I will do my damnedest not to get hurt in the line of duty, believe me, but it may happen from time to time.”

She blinked rapidly, before sniffing delicately. “I am so very proud of you, Draco,” she murmured. “Do not get killed on the job.”

I smiled at her broadly before she charged on to a new topic.

“What will you wear for the ceremony?”

“What ceremony?”

She passed me a letter, addressed to me, that had clearly been opened and read. “I opened your mail by accident.”

Auror Draco Lucius Malfoy, badge number 8745

To honour your heroic efforts and dedication, you will be awarded the Scrimgeour Medal of Valour.
The ceremony will be held in Ballroom 1A of the Ministry of Magic. More details to follow.

Regards,

Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister of Magic

Gawain Robards, Head Auror, Department of Magical Law Enforcement

I reread the note several times in disbelief. “They want to honour me? For what?”

“You apprehended a madman, saving the life of Mr Weasley in the process, and at great personal sacrifice,” my mother replied slowly, as though she was speaking to someone incredibly thick. “Now, do you need new dress robes?”

I shook my head. “If it’s an official ceremony, I’ll have to wear my dress uniform. I’ll talk to Robards, tell him all of this is unnecessary.”

“Excellent. Witches love a man in uniform. Do you need it tailored before you wear it?”

“No, Mother,” I sighed in exasperation. “I had to wear it to my swearing in. I just don’t think any of this pomp is needed; I simply did what my job required.”

She waved her hand at me dismissively. “Luckily, no one has asked what you think about anything thus far, no need to start now.”

* * *

It was pitch black when I awoke to a scratching noise outside of my bedroom window. I stood to investigate, opening it immediately when I saw a small, grey owl with a scroll tied to its leg. I patted it gently, before it nipped my finger lightly and settled onto the desk clearly waiting for a reply.

Dear Draco,

You were right yesterday; I’m having trouble sleeping. I hope I haven’t woken you tonight, especially since you need your sleep while recovering.

Thank you for your concern; I can’t properly express how much you mean to me, and how grateful I am to have you in my life. I think I’m coping alright with everything; I alternate between crying and wanting to break things (sometimes both at the same time) and I think it’s all a bit overwhelming for Harry. Ginny has been great, but it’s exhausting watching them be so obviously in love while I’m so jaded.

I took your advice (obviously). So many people have reached out to me with genuine sympathy that I don’t think I have to worry about Ron running his mouth to get people on side; even Molly Weasley wrote me a lovely note saying she didn’t blame me for anything.

It’s only been two days and I’m feeling trapped; I changed the wards to my flat so that Ronald can’t get in, but I’m dreading having to face the media whenever I do leave the house.

Harry told me about your medal. CONGRATULATIONS! Obviously, the circumstances aren’t ideal, but you are truly going to be such a wonderful auror, Draco. I’m so proud of you, and I will be cheering you on from the front row (presuming there’s any space next to your mother, with whom I am on a first name basis now).

All my love,

Hermione

I breathed deeply, trying to regulate my heart rate, unreasonably excited over something as mundane as her handwriting. I reached for a sheet of parchment.

Granger,

I’m at my mother’s recovering and she’s driving me absolutely mental. Meet at the Duke’s Arms tomorrow, 1:00?

Draco