Chapter 2
“Malfoy?” There was no way he was here, in a shoddy bar in Muggle London of all places, sitting next to Hermione. She had definitely had too many drinks, hallucinating this of all things. She was cutting herself off.
“The one and only, unless you count my father of course,” he replied with a smirk. “What is someone of your caliber doing in a place like this, Granger? It doesn’t seem to be your speed.”
“I could ask you the same thing, Malfoy. If you’re looking to get a rise out of me tonight, I’m sorry to say you’ll be sorely disappointed.” Hermione replied with a sigh, not in the mood for his taunting tonight. Or any night, truly.
She hadn’t seen him since she and Harry had testified on his behalf. All she really remembers about the whole ordeal was how angry with them Ron was. His disdain for Malfoy was so strong he couldn’t understand their reasoning behind it. He couldn’t see why it was the right thing to do. Malfoy was just a child who had been manipulated into it by his father, he was forced into it just like she was forced into being a soldier. Neither of them necessarily chose that life, it just happened.
Malfoy had definitely changed. His jawline was sharper, his eyes seemed to be even more blue than physically possible. His shoulders were wider as well. Even while sitting he seemed to tower over her. He was more handsome than she remembered. No matter what had transpired during their school years, she never could deny that he was extremely good-looking, despite being a twat.
“I’d never do such a thing, Granger,” his smirk ever growing. “In all honesty, I saw you sitting here looking as though you had failed your OWLS and thought I would come see what could possibly have transpired in your perfect life to make you look so grim. I’m just trying to be cordial.” He was looking at her intently, and if he was anyone else, she’d probably believe him.
“Cordial? When have we ever been cordial, Malfoy?” She didn’t have the energy to deal with this. But found herself engaging with him regardless.
“Well, never of course. But circumstances change, people change. You said that yourself, at my trial, if you recall.” Something about the look on his face and unwavering stare convinced her to open up.
“If you truly must know, I’m hiding. I may or may not have potentially ruined not only my relationship with Ron, but also with everyone else in our lives. I…did something that I’m not sure was the right choice. But it felt right at the time. And honestly, it still feels right.”
“Do tell what the ‘Brightest Witch of Her Age’ could have possibly done to ruin that many friendships? I don’t believe it’s possible for you to mess up that severely.” Normally she’d chide someone for calling her that. Despite the truth behind it, she hated that nickname. But with him…well, she kind of liked the way it sounded coming from him. It felt more like an actual compliment and not just a title she’d been given.
Maybe it was just the alcohol, or maybe just the aftereffects of this truly horrible night. Either way, she couldn’t hold everything in any longer. The desperation to just talk to someone and get the entire mess off of her chest was breaking her down.
“Well…I stopped Ron in the middle of proposing. In front of everyone. I told him it wasn’t right, that we weren’t right. And then ran out with no real reasons given, I just couldn’t stand being there a second longer. I didn’t even let him finish kneeling before I blurted it all out.” Yes, definitely the alcohol. There’s no other reason she would be spilling her guts like this to him. But can she really continue to blame that? She’d had three drinks over the couple of hours she’d been here. Each one followed by water. Sure, she was a little looser than normal, but she was still of sound mind. She looked at Draco, and found him just looking back, seemingly analyzing her. She held his stare, until finally, he began his reply.
“Honestly Granger, if it felt right in the moment, and it still feels right, then I’m going to go out on a limb and say you were right to stop the Weasel from proposing.” Just as she opened her mouth to interject and tell him not to call Ron that, he continued his speech. “Obviously, I don’t know your situation and I don’t know your relationship. But I do know that the day someone asks you to marry them is supposed to be a happy day. Not a day full of anxiety and hiding out. So,” he paused as if debating on continuing. Hermione watched him stare at his drink, tapping it with his ring while he collected his thoughts. “I’d say you’re right in stopping him but you’re wrong in ruining it all. It will blow over. Your friends will understand and your Golden Trio plus Weaslette will be back together in no time. There is nothing wrong with protecting yourself and your future. Although I must say I have always thought you could do much better than the Weasel. Truthfully, I always thought you’d end up with Potter. The Boy Who Lived and The Girl Who Kept Him Alive, what a match that would have been,” he finished with a laugh, taking a swig of his whiskey before looking at her expectantly.
Hermione didn’t think she’d ever heard Malfoy say this much, let alone talk to her for this long. And they were constructive, helpful things. Other than that ending, but did she truly expect him to be a completely different person from just two years ago? No, she didn’t. But she did have to admit he had already changed exponentially.
“Who are you and what did you do to Draco Malfoy?” She replied, barely holding in a laugh.
She didn’t know how long they sat there, chatting about anything and everything. Hermione found herself hanging onto every word he said. She discovered that he was working toward becoming a potioneer, which seemed very fitting for him based on how he excelled in school. She told him about her plans at the Ministry, and he actually listened, which was new to her. Ron always tuned out and gave the occasional noncommittal response or interrupted her to discuss something else. He never was truly interested in her dreams and aspirations, she had come to realize. He just used to be better at pretending. He never discouraged her, but Hermoine knew he didn’t care enough to really hear her and what she was saying. But Malfoy did. And he gave input – good input, at that. The conversation with Malfoy had come easier than any of her conversations with Ron had in years.
“Where are you heading to after this? Surely not back to the Weasley’s shack?”
“Oh, no. No, I think I’ll go back to our flat. It’s not too far from here. Maybe begin to pack my things up. I doubt I’ll be getting much sleep tonight.” Hermione was not looking forward to going home, knowing Ron may or may not be there had her on edge. Hopefully he had stayed with his family. She wasn’t ready to have it out with him just yet.
“Well come on then, I’ll walk you,” Malfoy responded, leaving her no room to object as he began to stand up and head toward the door.
The walk to her flat was quiet, neither saying much. Their hands kept bumping between them as they made the short journey, but neither acknowledged it. It was nice, peaceful even. Hermione didn’t know the last time she had felt this relaxed, certainly not any time in recent years. The fact that she felt this way around Malfoy of all people was something she didn’t want to think about tonight, it was future Hermione’s problem. Present Hermione had enough on her plate as it is.
“This is me,” she hated that she had to break the silence, wishing they could have just kept walking. She was enjoying his presence and the distraction he brought. “Thank you for walking me home, I’m sure it was out of your way.” She didn’t want the night to end, but since when had she wanted to spend any time at all around Malfoy? Maybe she was more drunk than she thought. Just as she was about to do something extremely stupid and invite him in, she heard the door open behind her.
“‘Mione? That you? Where have you been? And who is that?” Shit, shit, shit. This could not be happening. While Hermione may be able to look past Malfoy’s discretions in the past and see that he has changed, she knew Ron would never be able to let go of his grudge. He reminded her of that fact any time the Malfoy name was published in the prophet.
“Oh, Ron. I didn’t expect you here. I’ll be in shortly.” Hermione answered, feeling the anxiety start to swell up again. She couldn’t handle a brawl between the two men, not tonight. Why couldn’t he have stayed with Molly and Arthur?
“Hermione,” Ron started in a low drawl. “Is that fucking Malfoy?”