We Were Gold

There was no chance that sleep would find me again after her letter; her use of the word ‘date’ had completely upended my world. Without giving it a second thought, I apparated into the sitting room of Theo and Pansy.

I quickly sent my Patronus to rouse them. A shriek from upstairs followed by hurried footsteps let me know that the peacock had successfully gotten at least one Nott out of bed.

“Merlin’s fucking tits, Draco, what could possibly require me to be awake at this time of night?” Pansy hissed, tying the belt of a silk robe as she stormed into the room. “Theo nearly had a heart attack at the sight of your ghastly bird.”

I collapsed onto the sofa behind me. “I need help,” I moaned.

She rolled her eyes. “It’s 2:30 in the morning, you git. I am not interested in listening to tiresome whinging about whatever imaginary struggles are plaguing your aristocratic arse.”

“I’m going on a date with Granger, and I don’t know what to do,” I replied, unconcerned with the whinging ton I had adopted. Both Pansy and Theo had known me during my admittedly over-dramatic teenage years; this was a far milder meltdown than they were used to.

Theo strolled into the room in a set of lilac striped silk pyjamas, the top unbuttoned completely. “What do you mean you don’t know what to do? This is what you’ve been fantasising about since seventh year,” he said entirely nonplussed.

“Exactly I’ve been thinking about this for years and she only just broken up with her fiancé. She probably didn’t even mean it as a ‘date’ date. It must just be a muggle expression.

Pansy rolled her eyes violently. “As it is the middle of the night and I am on the verge of Avada-ing you, I am going to say this once and only once. Granger is not like us; she doesn’t say things she doesn’t mean for the sake of diplomacy. I don’t actually think that she would be able to hold in her opinions without exploding. She did not use the word ‘date’ as a throwaway, careless phrase, especially at this time of night. Draco, be happy. You deserve it. She is offering you the opportunity to have what you’ve been dreaming about since you were eighteen years old. Take it,” she sighed heavily. “And take this. I’ve had quite enough of you.”

I caught the vial she tossed me with ease, raising my eyebrows as I read the label. “A potion-induced slumber?”

She grabbed Theo by the drawstring of his pyjama pants, leading him back to the stairs. “That, or murder, and I am not interested in the cleanup.”

Theo mock saluted me with a wink as they left.

“Use a silencing charm, heathens!” I shouted after them.

I fell backward onto the sofa, my left foot planted on the floor, my right dangling over the armrest. I pondered Pansy’s words, eerily reminiscent of my mother’s. She was right, of course. Hermione said what she meant, regardless of how poorly her words might be received. That’s not to say that she didn’t have any tact, only that her true feelings on any subject would always come to light quickly. If she had called our meeting at the muggle pub that I favoured a ‘date’, then she meant it as such.

Immediately, a list of appropriate pureblood courting gifts sprang to mind, lessons from my governesses about how to treat a with of position filtering back into my consciousness. I thought of the freckles across the bridge of Hermione’s nose and the way her golden skin glowed when she smiled. I didn’t want to court a young witch of position, I wanted to date Hermione Granger; to woo her with my charm and not my Gringott’s balance.

Suddenly, I was exhausted. I placed the untouched potion vial on the coffee table, summoning a blanket from elsewhere in the townhouse, and fell asleep almost immediately, my head buried under an obscene amount of throw pillows.

A repeated tapping on the tip of my nose woke me up several hours later.

“Oh good, he’s alive,” Theo drawled before dropping onto the sofa opposite mine. I blinked, batting away a bolster that had fallen onto my face.

“Tea?” I mumbled, wiping my eyes and yawning as I sat upright.

Theo tapped his foot on the leg of the coffee table, drawing my attention to a mug filled with milky tea.

“Ta, mate,” I said as I took an undignified swig that would have horrified my mother. “Where’s your better half?”

“Sleeping, allegedly. Seems I wore her out last night,” he said salaciously.

I rolled my eyes. “We all know that she does all the work, and you just lie there.”

He shrugged in response, reaching for today’s edition of the Prophet. I sipped my tea, slowly trying to stretch my aching shoulder.

“How are you feeling about everything now that the sun’s out?” he asked, setting the paper aside and looking directly at me.

“Like I’m going to spew. But not in a bad way. In a nervous way. But not a bad nervous, a good nervous. Anticipatory.” I could hear myself rambling was helpless to stop it. “I’ve just been thinking about this for so long. What if it’s terrible? She might think I’m a total knob.”

“You are a total knob. But a good knob, not a bad knob. And definitely a big knob, not a small knob,” he replied, smirking around the rim of his mug.

“Oh darling, I’ve told you not to compare yourself to Draco. He can thank the generations of selective breeding for his cock.” Pansy swanned over to where we were sitting, patting Theo’s knee reassuringly as she sat down at his side. “Yours has that lovely curve that-”

I stood abruptly. “You win, I’m leaving.”

“Wear the jeans again!” Pansy called as I apparated back to my mother’s.

Two hours of avoiding my mother’s prying questions about where I had spent the night, along with her pointedly raised eyebrows was nearly as draining as all of my interactions with the Notts put together, but somehow, I survived.

“Draco, enough of this behaviour. What has gotten into you?” She asked wand raised, cornering me in the informal dining room after I’d ignored her offer of tea.

“Nothing, Mother. I’m simply trying to recuperate in peace.”

“You haven’t been this twitchy since Bellatrix was living here. What is the matter?”

I sighed deeply. “I have a date this afternoon.”

She blinked at me blankly. “A date? In the afternoon? I’ve never heard of such a thing. With whom?” She poked my injured shoulder firmly. “What about Miss Granger?”

“Ouch, Mother,” I hissed, pushing her away. “It’s with Hermione.”

“Oh, Draco!” She clapped her hands gleefully. “How thrilling. Where are you taking her? What are you going to wear?”

“I’m wearing this,” I replied, gesturing to my jeans and fitted white t-shirt. At her look of horror, I continued. “We’re going to a muggle pub, nowhere fancy. I’m not courting her, Mother, not formally.”

She nodded, reaching her hand up to stroke my cheek like she had done when I was a child. “I understand, darling. I’m proud of you.” At my arched eyebrow, she continued. “For so many things, Draco, but allowing yourself this opportunity to be happy is such a change from the self-loathing boy you were after the war.”

I placed my hand over hers, squeezing it gently. “Thanks, Mum.” I stepped back, allowing our hands to fall. “I need red tulips.”

“You’ve never been one for subtlety, darling,” she said knowingly, snapping her fingers. A beautiful bouquet of bright red flowers appeared; a bow tied jauntily around the stems.

I felt my cheeks go pink, pressing a kiss to her cheek and accepting the bouquet before turning on the spot.

* * *

I walked out of the alley I had apparated into, making my way to the Duke’s Arms. I took a deep breath, closing my eyes for a moment before pushing the door of the pub open.

I saw her immediately, sitting at a high table by the window, the sunlight playing on the strands of her hair. She was wearing a sleeveless black dress that hit her mid-thigh. Her hair tumbled over her shoulders, the ends curling above the neckline which just kissed the tops of her breasts. Her long legs were crossed at the ankles, feet encase in strappy black heels. She was absolutely stunning.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t alone. A sandy-haired man had his back to me, elbow resting on her table, gesticulating wildly with the other hand. I could see her cross her arms as he said something, steam practically coming out of her ears. I grinned to myself, quickly smothering it before striding forward confidently.

“Sorry I’m late, love,” I offered her the bouquet, stepping up to her side.

She glanced at the flowers briefly before looking up into my eyes. She broke into a breathtaking smile, tucking a strand of hair behind her right ear. “I was early,” she said softly.

It took every fibre of my being to look away from the gorgeous witch in front of me, but I reluctantly dragged my eyes to our unwanted guest. “Thanks for keeping her company for me,” I drawled, letting my arrogance ooze out of every syllable. I threw my good arm over her shoulder, pressing her body into mine as best as I could while she was seated. “I can take it from here.”

I watched him eyeball me, sizing me up. He came up to my nose, and I made a point to look down at him. I dropped my hand from her shoulder to her waist, turning her into my chest, bicep flexing far more than was strictly necessary. He grimaced at my display, collecting his beer from the table before beating a hasty retreat, muttering under his breath.

“Hi,” I said quietly, turning back to her with a grin.

“Hi,” she replied, eyes darting between mine and absentmindedly gnawing her lip.

“White wine?”

She nodded quickly before looking pointedly at the flowers.

I pressed a quick kiss to her hairline, taking far more liberties than I normally would on a first date, unable to stop touching her for a second. “Red tulips, eternal love and passion,” I murmured before heading to the bar to order our drinks.

When I returned, I took the seat directly next to hers; I couldn’t stand being on the opposite side of the table from her. She took a small sip of wine before turning her eyes back to mine.

“So, this is something you want, then?” she asked, all courage in the face of my cowardice.

I took a fortifying sip of my whisky and nodded. “Since seventh year.”

Her pink lips popped open into a perfectly round ‘O’, eyelashes fluttering in surprise. “Oh, Draco-”

I held my hand up to stop her. “Don’t pity me. It’s probably been for the best that I’ve had to pine for years; taught me patience and numerous other virtues. I don’t regret it for a second, Hermione, just being in your orbit has been more than I deserve. I’ve gotten to know you, gotten to fall in love with you slowly as I’ve uncovered different sides of you. I don’t expect you to feel the same for me, not yet; I’ve had several years head start. But I’d like to think you can get there in your own time,” I said with a wink, white knuckles gripping my tumbler in the face of my uncharacteristic vulnerability.

She leaned into my space, one elbow resting on the table, the other hand twisting a fine gold chain on her wrist. “Ginny thinks I should fuck you.”

I choked on my mouthful of whisky. “Pardon?”

Hermione tilted her head thoughtfully, taking a delicate sip of wine. “Do you disagree?”

“No, I-definitely not,” I paused. “Is that all that you’re looking for? Because I can’t do casual, not with you.”

She shook her head vigorously, curls nearly becoming sentient with the movement. “I don’t want casual.”

My heart leapt at her admission, before reality sank back in. “You’ve just ended things with Weaselbee. I don’t want to push you into something before you’re ready for it, just because that’s what I want. I’ve waited this long, Hermione, a bit longer won’t kill me.”

“I wasn’t happy in my relationship for quite a while.”

I nodded. “I know.”

“Do I strike you as a person who does anything that I don’t want to do?”

I shook my head.

“Then believe me when I tell you what I want.”

I nodded again, in awe of the witch in front of me.

“That’s not to say that I’m not interested in all of this,” she gestured vaguely at my torso. “How did you even get a shirt that tight on over your shoulder in this state?”  

I leaned in with a smirk, arrogance coming back in full force. “Magic.”

She rolled her eyes and giggled, settling back in her chair with a renewed sense of ease. “Did you end up reading that history of the Supreme Mugwump that I loaned you?”

I nodded. “It was terrible.”

She gasped. “Draco, how could you say that? It was absolutely fascinating, the way they used the Qilin.”

“You must be using a previously unknown definition of fascinating, considering that book made Binns’ lectures seem dynamic.”

Her outrage was palpable, and incredibly alluring; her chest was heaving and flushed, eyes shining, lips pressed into a moue of displeasure. I was certain that her hair was sparking with barely contained magic. She was ethereal, even when irritated with me.

She opened her mouth to scold me, and I took advantage of her momentary distraction to press my lips to hers. She froze for only a moment before kissing me back, soft curls tickling my cheek, drowning me in lilac-scented conditioner that I had been fantasising about for years. I slid my left hand to her neck, thumb tilting her chin just so, her soft sigh music to my ears. I pulled away slowly, running the tip of my nose along hers, watching as she slowly blinked her eyes open.

“I’ve wanted to do that for years,” I admitted. “Every time you open your swotty little mouth and lecture me, it’s all I can do to restrain myself.”

She hummed quietly. “Noted.”

* * *

Two rounds and several hours later, I offered her my hand, leading her from the pub. The streets were quiet; unlike the wizarding world, the muggles did not have a bank holiday today. The skies were surprisingly clear for London in spring, and there was a lingering warmth from the sun we’d had earlier. She intertwined our fingers as we strolled on the footpath.  

“Hungry?”

“Starving, actually. Molly sent over dinner last night, but I haven’t eaten since.”

“What am I going to do with you and all of these meals you skip?” I asked, nipping at her ear in rebuke.

She smiled at me sheepishly. “Sometimes I just get so wrapped up in what I’m doing that I forget to eat.”

“Guess it’s up to me to make sure you take a break for food, then.”

She turned to face me, stopping abruptly.

“Everything okay?” I asked nervously, worried that I had inadvertently offended her.

She slid both arms around my neck, pressing up onto her toes, nodding gently.

“It’s nice to be worried over, instead of constantly doing the worrying,” she said softly.

“I’ll always worry over you, Granger.”

Her eyes fluttered close, and suddenly I was surrounded by her once again, her warm, soft body pressing against the length of mine. I could taste the wine she had earlier as I slipped my tongue into her mouth, my left hand dragging down the length of her spine to rest on her glorious arse. She broke the kiss with a soft pant, eyes glassy, pink lips bee stung. I pressed a final kiss to her lips, chuckling when her stomach let out a rumble.

“There’s a little French restaurant up this way,” I said, tugging her along. “Alexandre doesn’t have a menu, just cooks what he gets at the market every day. He only has four tables, but his food is excellent.”

“That sounds perfect, Draco.”

I pressed a kiss to her temple as we made our way halfway up the block to the tiny bistro with red and white checked awnings. Four small, round tables covered in white tablecloths were lined up underneath, two of them taken by other couples.

A petite, mousy woman with a floor-length white apron around her waist smiled when she saw us.

“Draco! C'est bon de te revoir,” she said delightedly, leading us to the empty table on the end, next to a middle-aged couple sharing a bottle of champagne.

“Claire, this is Hermione, my date. Hermione, this is Claire. She’s Alexandre’s business partner.”

“Business partner and wife,” she said in heavily accented English, presenting her left hand.

“When did this happen?” I asked, pulling Hermione’s chair out for her before taking my seat.

“Yesterday at the registry office. Du champagne pour tous!”

She twirled away happily, returning almost instantly with two flutes and a bottle of Ruinart.

“Tonight, my favourites from my love. Tomato tarte tartin, cassoulet and clafoutis. Enjoy!”

“Merci Claire et félicitations,” Hermione said in perfect French as she clinked her glass against mine, a smug smile on her pretty face.

I rolled my eyes fondly. “Of course you’re fluent in French, too. You can’t let me win at anything can you?”

“I thought you liked my swotty little mouth,” she said demurely, taking a sip of champagne.

“Have I not made that clear enough yet?”

She giggled as Claire set our entrées down and refilled our glasses.

“You may have to convince me later.”

“Whenever you want, Granger,” I said with a wink, delighted with the way her cheeks flushed. “Anytime, love.”