As It Should Have Been
[Image: Draco on the ground pleading with a stoic Hermione, sitting on a couch. From A Dangerous Method, 2011.]
"Please, please," Draco pleaded.
It happened last night at his stag party. Instead of the traditional debauchery, Draco opted for a fancy dinner with his friends and family. Lucius cracked open several bottles of expensive wine. Blaise and Theo buoyed him, trying to get him to slow down.
When he woke up, he was in a room at the Rosewood, naked and beside Astoria, similarly attired.
Draco fled, immediately throwing up in the bathroom.
As he pulled on his clothes in between a pounding headache and sickening pull in his stomach, he got flashes off what happened last night. Dark hair. Stormy eyes. Skin that was cool to the touch. Familiar and unfamiliar. Straight when it should have been curly. Hard when it was supposed to be soft. Curves in the wrong places.
He fiddled with his Signet ring, staring at the stirring body. He could blame the drink. His Father. His friends. Astoria who didn't drink.
Astoria sat up, covers clutched to her chest.
He stiffened. "I'm getting married today."
She was silent.
Draco Floo'd out of the hearth.
Hermione sat in her slip.
She didn't speak. Tears fell silently from her face, wrecking Luna's carefully applied makeup.
Draco sat in between her legs, crying, wetting the lacy fabric.
They sat like that for minutes, maybe hours.
"Please, please. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. It was nothing," he begged. His face crumpled. He kissed her fingers, her palm, her knees, her ankles.
She still didn't speak.
Years later...
Children giggled all around the station, running and rushing, carrying their luggage and lifting it onto the Hogsmeade train.
Hermione handed a knapsack she was carrying over her shoulder to Rose. She pulled her almost-too tall daughter into a tight hug. Ron's warm, steadying hand wrapped around her waist, clutching her grey cardigan. His other hand clasped Hugo's.
Harry was running late as usual.
The train whistled again, a warning of 10 minutes before departure.
More excited children glided past them.
On Platform 9 3/4, the train's steam cleared and Hermione's eyes refocused.
Far off in the distance was Draco and Astoria, hugging whom she assumed was their son.
Scorpius, she thinks.
His grey eyes were already on her. Sad, regretful, open. Like he always was with her.
That characterized their relationship throughout the years. Hogwarts. The War. He was sorry. He was always sorry. He could never save her. Never choose her in the moment. Never stay with her.
Her heart clenched. She gave him a tight smile.
It was as it always should have been.
All was well.