Chapter 1
“Salazar, Hermione looks better every single day I see her.” Theo Nott took a look about the room, surveying the various witches and wizards attending one of the introductory socialite events of the season. Draco followed suit, seeing that many of the attendees were old classmates he recognized from various years while he attended Hogwarts. He shot back his drink, letting the whiskey burn his throat. It was going to be a long night, especially after Theo had pointed her out to him. The girl that had haunted his nightmares for years.
“Imagine if we’d dabbled outside of the Slytherin selection back in school. Could’ve had a lot more fun.” Theo waggled his eyebrows for good measure.
“Yeah, well, back then we were blood purists parroting the beliefs of our fathers.”
“My dick wasn’t. It stood at attention quite a few times after seeing Granger saunter about the halls in those muggle jeans. My dick has never been prejudiced, Draco. Never.” He stared deeply into Draco’s eyes to hammer in that solemn point.
“Merlin, Theo. Is there not a witch or wizard you haven’t thought about sticking your dick into?”
He thought for a moment. “Nevi— wait no, no.” He scratched at his head, looking at the floor in concentration as if the gleaming black marble held all the answers in its reflection. Draco’s irritation was rising. “Ron Weasley. Weird git, that one. And he calls you a ferret. He’s as weaselly as they come. Oh, and Marcus Flint. Those teeth…” Theo shuddered at some thought that Draco couldn’t be paid any amount of galleons to use Legilimens to look in on.
Draco found himself once again at a loss for words when it came to Theo’s insatiable attraction for anything with a consenting orifice.
“Man, if only I’d led the way with that head when I was younger instead of this one…would’ve saved me a world of pain the following years.” He turned to Draco, flashing him a knowing grin. “You know I’m right. Don’t pretend you’re not attracted to Granger now. Half the wizards in this room haven’t taken their eyes off her since she walked in.”
“Well, I’m not blind .” Draco scoffed, plucking at an invisible thread on his finely tailored suit.
“Yeah, and you weren’t blind back then, either. But you were a shite blood purist, just like me, and Granger’s never held my past against me. Come say ‘hello’ with me.” Theo tugged on Draco’s arm.
Draco shot him a warning look. “No, Theo. It’s different with me.”
Theo’s golden retriever energy deflated into a sad puppy. “Oh….right. Sorry, mate, I forgot.”
Draco bit his tongue on his retort. It wasn’t Theo’s fault. The years leading up to the war and during it, Theo’s father had beaten him thoroughly and regularly, using both magic and mundane tactics, all unforgivable methods in Draco’s mind, regardless of what the Ministry considered illegal. Sure, Theo’s father had never used the Cruciatus curse on his son, but he’d left him bleeding and unconscious on the floor for twenty-eight hours before Blaise Zabini drunkenly stumbled upon him with a concaved skull. He’d floo’d to the Nott Manor, intending to inquire why Theo wasn’t out getting drinks with the boys that night over one of their summer breaks. By some miracle, Blaise had apparated him to St. Mungo’s without either of them getting splinched. Some of Theo’s faculties never returned fully, and his memory of events that occurred around that period of his life were fuzzy at best, no matter how often you reminded him.
“What is she doing here, anyway?”
“Ah, she gets invited to all the important functions these days. She’s become quite the powerhouse within the Ministry. Plus, she’s attended to a lot of prominent family members at St. Mungo’s. But, mostly it’s because Pansy drags her to these.” He leaned over, whispering conspiratorially. “Practically kicking and screaming from what I hear.”
“What?” Draco’s head swiveled toward Theo’s like an owl. “Her and Pansy are friends? ”
“Yes.” Theo’s face suddenly turned somber. “You’ve been gone quite awhile, Draco. A lot has changed.”
Draco grabbed a flute of champagne from a waiter as he walked past, setting his empty whiskey glass in its place and ignoring the irritated look of the worker, turning away to take a sip. He sighed as the bubbles fizzed on his tongue. “That it has.”
He finally let his eyes settle on her .
Fuck. She was beautiful.
She’d always fascinated him in school. Many of the Slytherin boys, who’d never met a muggle-born witch before attending Hogwarts, had regarded her as exotic , which was bred from ignorance and purist propaganda. Draco was ashamed to admit that he had found himself caught up in the same wonder that many of the other boys had. What did a muggle-born witch look like under her clothes? Was it the same? Would she feel the same?
He was also ashamed to admit that he’d been ashamed by how attractive he had found her while attending Hogwarts, which admittedly, had made him hate her even more at the time. That still hadn’t stopped him from fisting himself to the image of her in the muggle jeans with the curtains drawn in his four poster bed in the Slytherin dormitory. The same jeans Theo had just mentioned.
Fuck, maybe he was the depraved one.
And it was hard not to be, as the crowd parted and Draco could fully take in Hermione Granger from across the ballroom.
Theo was correct. In the eight years it had been since he’d last seen her—a time in which Draco tried very hard to avoid remembering—she’d become even more stunning. She wore a floor length red gown instead of the more traditional dress robes, leaving very little to the imagination as the dress pooled in all the right places, hugging her curves as it swept down to the floor. The back was low cut, nearly showing the dimples above her ass. Draco imagines placing his hand there after sweeping her into a waltz about the room. Her mess of curls had been tamed into an elegant updo.
He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts of this reverie, taking a moment to step outside briefly in the cold air.
When he returned, he beelined for the refreshments table, making sure that his glasses remained filled until the appropriate time came for him to make an early exit.
***
Narcissa, always the cunning snake, waited for her opportunity to strike, seizing the moment when Draco walked by.
“Ah, my darling,” she said, latching onto Draco’s arm, a pleasant grin plastered on her face. But Draco knew better. He saw through the mask to the cold calculating countenance underneath.
Narcissa was plotting, which in Draco’s experience, was never good.
“Draco, come say hello to Miss Granger.” His mother maneuvered him in a half circle with a level of strength that no middle aged witch should possess. He hissed at the vice grip his mother had on him as she tightly presented him to his old school nemesis, that had meandered closer to his side of the ballroom unbeknownst to him while he’d been putting away drink after drink. This felt like an ambush.
They stared at one another for a moment.
“Granger. “
“Malfoy.”
“Mother,” Draco nodded toward Narcissa, already twisting on his heel to leave.
“Draco, my darling, where are you going? I have something to discuss with you and Miss Granger here.” Narcissa smiled mischievously toward Granger, making his former schoolmate’s eyes widen with concern and Draco’s stomach drop.
“Pansy is hosting a dating competition on behalf of Miss Granger,” Narcissa gestured to Granger, whose cheeks were now turning Gryffindor red, matching her dress. “I wanted to let you know that I added your name to the competition.”
“You—“
“—what!?” Granger and Draco exclaimed at the same time, before they gave each other narrowed looks at their protestations.
“What? Am I not good enough for you, Granger?”
“Yes.” She answered immediately and without hesitation.
“Now, now. Let’s save it for the competition, shall we?” Narcissa crooned. “I thought you two could use tonight to catch up before the competition begins.”
“I will not be participating, mother. I’ve already told you that I’m not participating in the regular season. What makes you think I’d consent to this?”
Narcissa imperceptibly flinched as if Draco had slapped her. Passerbies may not have noticed the subtle shift in Narcissa’s demeanor, ever the perfectly coiffed party guest or host, but Draco knew…he’d struck a nerve.
Shit . She leaned in, clutching Draco's arm like she was about to drag him out of the room as if he were a toddler throwing a tantrum in public.
“Yes, you’ve made it abundantly clear that you have no desire to settle and live a fulfilling life, along with giving me grandchildren, and that you’d rather gallivant around Europe for nearly a decade than be close to your remaining family,” Narcissa hissed under her breath, trying to speak low enough that Granger couldn’t hear. But from the way her eyebrows had shot to her hairline, she clearly could. “But what’s done is done. Your name has already been added.”
“Then take it off!” Draco snapped back, a little louder than he intended.
Granger didn’t hide her offense. “What? Is my blood not pure enough for you?”
“Yes—“ Draco responded automatically before his brain registered the question fully. Narcissa gasped. Draco’s head snapped to Granger, watching in bewilderment as she stormed off.
“Wait… What’d she say?” He looked at his mother in confusion as what Granger had said fully registered in his brain. His eyes widened.
Shit!
“Wait! Granger! Fuck, wait!” He ran after the huffing Gryffindor, placing a hand on her shoulder, but pulled it back the moment she flinched away from his touch. She spun back on him, fire in her eyes.
“Don’t. Touch. Me.”
He held his hands up in placation. “I’m sorry. But I couldn’t let you walk away after that…misunderstanding.”
“Misunderstanding? I asked you a very clear question to which you answered in the affirmative.”
“I didn’t realize what you’d said. I responded without thinking.” Her incensed demeanor didn’t diminish, her eyes still burning. “Truly, Granger, I misspoke. But I can assure you, I certainly don’t espouse those values anymore. I’m not that 17 year old kid.”
“Certainly not. But I don’t know who you are now , Draco Malfoy. I don’t think I ever have.” At that, she annoyingly turned up her nose at him in a dismissive manner before stalking off with a clattering of her heels on marble.
Draco tried not to notice her perfectly round ass as she retreated into the crowd. “Escaping him” may have been the more apt phrase. He tried not to think of her at all as she disappeared.
Merlin, she hated him. Deservedly so, he supposed. He’d only made her life miserable in school, then stood by and watched as his aunt tortured her with an Unforgivable curse, then did nothing still, as that aunt carved a slur into Granger’s forearm with a cursed blade.
He could still hear her screams like it had happened just moments ago.
“This is going to be too much fun,” cackled a distinctively bitchy voice. “I can’t wait!”
“Pansy,” he droned, knowing the dark haired Slytherin was standing just behind him. He turned around slowly. “It’s been too long.”
They both stared at each other impassively for a heartbeat before she squealed, causing several people to flinch in surprise at the noise, before she threw her arms around him.
“Wanker.”
“Bitch.”
“Spoiled prat.”
“Insufferable cunt.”
“Salazar, I’ve missed you,” she whispered into his ear, trying to squeeze the life out of him and holding on a beat too long, which meant that she was likely holding back tears she’d never shed in front of anyone. She’d rather die than cry in front of a single soul. She’d been Crucio’d when they were younger during a torture session that lasted nearly twenty minutes without Pansy shedding a single tear.
Draco withdrew from the hug, holding her out at arms length in assessment. “You haven’t gone soft on me now, have you, Pans?”
She elbowed him. “Absolutely not!”
He smiled genuinely, despite the new pain in his ribs. “I’ve missed you, too.” He squeezed her arms before letting go. “Now, tell me exactly what my mother has signed me up for.”