Chapter 80
Prompt: Who is that?
“I’m in.”
Funny how two small words could change the course of one’s life.
After Hermione’s declaration at dinner, the pair fell into a comfortable rhythm of light touches and conversation that touched upon their work before delving into more heated debates over world affairs.
So lost in the evening, Hermione didn’t notice a figure standing outside the restaurant window, until the hushed whispers of the other patrons reached their table.
“Who is that?”
“It couldn’t be-”
“You think Skeeter tipped him off?”
A sense of dread washed over Hermione as she turned to see her ex-husband glowering at her on the other side of the glass, his fists clenched at his side.
Hermione turned back toward Draco to see his own eyes fixed on Ron, all sense of warmth evaporated.
“Stay here,” murmured Draco before he stood from the table and stalked out of the restaurant.
Hermione watched, frozen in her seat, as Draco approached Ron.
Please don’t make a scene, she begged silently.
Ron turned on Draco, arms flailing as he shouted and gestured wildly before rearing back his fist and punching Draco squarely in the jaw. Hermione sighed as she prepared for Draco’s inevitable reaction. Tomorrow she would be tabloid fodder all over again, all because the men in her life couldn’t contain their most basic emotions.
She watched Draco rub his jaw, his eyes flashing with barely contained rage, but as he made eye contact with Hermione through the glass, she saw a softening to his gaze.
He broke eye contact and turned back to Ron who had continued his taunting and appeared to be rearing back for another punch, but to Hermione’s surprise, she saw Draco open his fist and lay out his palms in a show of supplication.
His words inaudible to the captivated audience in the restaurant, appeared to have a calming effect on Ron as Hermione watched in disbelief at her ex slump down into the road, his head in his hands.
Hermione’s breath caught as she watched Draco crouch beside him, a hand squeezing Ron’s shoulder briefly before turning back to return to the restaurant.
Draco walked to the table, whispers filling the room as the other patrons tried and failed to pretend they weren’t listening.
Hermione cleared her throat, “So that…I mean…what did you say?”
A faint pink colored Draco’s cheeks as he coughed to clear his throat. He reached across the table, tucking a curl behind her ear.
“I told him that while I never crossed any line with you while you were married, that I have been hopelessly in love with you for the past 4 years,” he paused, allowing his declaration to wash over her, drowning her in its sincerity.
“I said that I have no intention of ever hurting you and that even though you two are fighting now, I am under no delusion that the Weasel won’t be a part of our lives so killing him in the middle of Diagon Alley would ruin my chances at my long term plan.”
Hermione blinked back her tears and blurted the first concrete thought that came to mind, “Your long term plan?”
A shy smile took over Draco’s face as he cupped her cheeks with his hands, “Making you my wife.”