Draco saw Hermione enter the hall, even though she had a mask on. He looked for her in every crowd, looking for her wild mane of hair, her golden brown eyes. He would always look for her. He watched as she took sips of her champagne, standing alone by the bar, in the corner by the wall, taking in the ambience of the hall that his parents had decorated for his engagement party. He had to admit, it was beautiful, the constellations outlined on the ceiling were his favourite detail, even though Astoria hadn’t wanted it.
He took notice of the fact that she was the only person dressed in colour, everyone else was monochrome, and he smiled in the irony of the fact that when he was with her, he felt that everything was in screaming colour, and then when she left, the rest of the world was black and white. He was looking at her, but not once did she glance at him, and he kept noticing how guests would glare in her direction, looking at her dress and scoffing at the colour choice.
Red.
Draco’s attention was snapped back to his fiancé, hanging across his arm as she giggled into him, very clearly flirting with Draco’s highschool best friend in front of him, and it took everything Draco had not to roll his eyes.
Draco wished someone would remind his fiancé who she was actually engaged to.
The summer of 2004 was the best summer of his life, because that was when he found his best friend. Granted, he had known her for thirteen years, but he had never really gotten to know her on a personal level. It started when he got the job at the Ministry, and his office was next to hers. They would share small glances, a game of chicken was their favourite thing to play, a glance at the other person for as long as they could before they got caught. They slowly started greeting each other in the corridor, sharing lift rides every morning, and it got to the point that Draco would bring Hermione her coffee, since her favourite coffee shop was round the corner from his apartment, and she soon followed suit, bringing him his morning latte from his favourite muggle cafe.
They would share their lunch hour together, and it was Draco’s favourite time of day. He would swallow down the grimace as he had to eat the sandwiches that the Ministry served in the cafeteria, and the day Hermione brought in a muggle soda, his entire perspective changed. Coca Cola was the best thing he’d ever tasted, and he wanted more immediately.
He would link his arm in Hermione’s as they walked back to their offices together, liking the feeling he got when he was close to her, making little jokes just to see her face crack open in a smile, and when he left her, he would feel empty, so he would send her memos with little riddles and jokes on to let her know he was thinking about her.
He asked her to dinner, taking her to a muggle restaurant in hopes to please her, to show that his views had changed and that he was growing into a better, maturer man. He toasted to her, her accomplishments, and everything she would do in the future with a smile and a clink of his wine glass.
Autumn of 2004 was when things started to go a bit haywire in their relationship. Hermione thought there was something more between Draco and Astoria than there actually was, they were just good friends. Best friends, even. Growing up with her and her sister, it was only natural for Draco to feel comfortable around the younger Greengrass, but Hermione didn’t like it at all. She was convinced that Astoria had been trying to plant seeds in Draco’s head about blood purity, and all of the old traditions that he and his friends would believe in, and Draco would always tell her that this wasn’t happening, but there was no changing Hermione Granger’s mind once her heart was set on something.
Draco remembered Hermione sitting in the reading nook of his apartment that she sometimes inhabited. He remembered the way her eyes lit up when he told her to keep some clothes in a drawer he had spare, for the times she would sometimes spend the night spontaneously. He’d bought her a toothbrush to keep in his bathroom cup, he thought it was a cute gesture to show that he enjoyed her company often. She had a glass of red wine swirling around in her hand, as she eagerly listened to what Astoria was saying, drinking in the fact that Astoria was saying how it was a shame that times had changed, because they shouldn’t have had to change at all. “What a shame, I suppose times have changed, haven’t they, Draco,” she asked, “when truly, there should’ve never been any prejudice at all. People should be allowed to marry who they want.”
It was unfortunate timing, when Astoria touched his arm, because he had been injured during a friendly quidditch match with Potter the night before, and she touched him where he was tender, just at the point he’d taken a drink of his firewhiskey and it caused him to cough, inhaling some of his drink. He told his friends he was fine, the liquid had just gone down the wrong hole, and he gently nudged Astoria away from his injured arm, smiling at her and then looking at Hermione, who looked angry. He gave her a concerned glance, before calling it a night. He had never seen his witch look so riled up before, and he wanted to talk it over with her.
It broke Draco’s heart to hear Hermione’s fears about touching old Malfoy heirlooms, in case they were cursed, and he tried reasoning with her and telling her that his mother and father had a curse breaker in the vaults the night he told them that he was dating her, but she wouldn’t listen. Hermione would avoid him at family functions, and then she would get angry when he would be friendly with his family friends, mainly Astoria. She had a huge vendetta out on Astoria and he just wasn’t sure why, he had constantly told her that they were just friends, close friends, they had grown up together, but she just wouldn’t listen, so he would spend the evening pining after her as she stared holes into his soul.
December of 2004 was the worst for Draco, this was where it all went wrong and he just couldn’t pin point what happened. It was a cold winters evening, Draco was sat in the living room, his glasses on and a glass of water next to him as he worked on some documents for his upcoming presentation at the Ministry. He glanced at the clock, waiting for Hermione to come home so she could read it over with fresh eyes, find his mistakes and help him, like she always did.
The doorbell rang, and Draco grinned. Hermione must’ve forgotten her keys again, such a klutz. He raced to the door, opening it with a smile, only for his smile to falter. There, in the doorway, stood Astoria Greengrass covered in snowflakes, dressed for warmth in a lovely red coat. “Hello, Draco,” she smiled, soft and dainty.
“Astoria, what a surprise. Please, come in, it’s cold out.”
“Oh, thank you.”
He took her coat, hanging it up on the rack, and lead her into the living room, wondering what it was that brought her to his house. Was she troubled? Was she in trouble? Did she need his help? He took his seat again, running his hand through his hair as he summoned a glass of wine for the witch, still drinking his water as she sipped.
They spoke for a while, Astoria’s perfectly painted red lips smiling at the right moment, frowning at the same, her eyes wide and twinkling with something he was unsure of. She kept glancing at the clock, and suddenly burst out with “Oh, I must go. Thank you for your hospitality, Draco. Please may I use your floo?”
Draco had forgotten about her coat, and it seemed, so did she. She placed her wine glass down, a perfect pout on the rim of the glass, on the coffee table as he walked her to the floo room, and she kissed his cheek goodbye before she disappeared in green flames.
Draco didn’t notice Hermione coming through the front door, he didn’t notice the coat, or the glass, or the lipstick mark he had on his cheek, but she did. Hermione stalked towards him, her face like thunder, and he wondered what had her so riled up. They argued about who was previously in the apartment, and Hermione screamed, her hair sparking and glass breaking around her as she heard the name “Astoria.” Draco tried to diffuse the situation, until Hermione pointed out the lipstick on his cheek. He told her that she had only kissed his cheek in thanks, but Hermione wasn’t buying it. His hair was a mess, his tie was undone, and he had lipstick on his cheek. Lipstick on his cheek. Lipstick, on his cheek. Red. Hermione didn’t wear red.
She cackled as she summoned all of her belongings and a trunk, packing them with fury and Draco’s eyes streamed with tears, begging her not to do this, not to leave him, and she just stared into him, her eyes hollow, void of any emotion.
“It’s funny, Draco,” she snarled, as she stormed out of the door, snowflakes catching in her hair. Draco thought he was being crucio’d by the view in front of him, his witch looked ethereal as the snow dropped onto her in such a delicate manner. “You’ve always said you prefer green, but now you’re sharing a bed with someone who’s constantly dressed in some shade of red.”
Draco felt his heart shatter as he watched Hermione apparate away, reaching out into the cold, empty air, his chest had a gaping hole in the centre of it, as she had taken away the part of him that she had held under lock and key.
January 2005 was a weird month. He had spent a lot of time with Theo, Blaise, Pansy and Astoria. The Daily Prophet would be reporting on his and Hermione’s break up almost weekly, taking photos of him and his friends, focusing on the fact he was hanging out with the Greengrass heir, ignoring that he was also hanging out with his other friends, ignoring the fact that Blaise and Daphne had just gotten married, which meant the Slytherin pureblood friendship group was going to grow closer anyway. By the time that February rolled around, he had grown to enjoy Astoria’s company. She was calm, collected, and delicate. She would eat her cakes and drink her coffee with an essence of decorum, and he found that he liked the way that her eyes twinkled and her cheeks dimpled when he said something that made her laugh.
It was unplanned, the quick romance, but when Astoria had kissed him on a spring night in March, he thought that maybe.. just maybe, the new season would bring on a new hope for him. He had hoped to keep it private, sweet and simple, but being a Malfoy, he had given up his privacy allowance when he had come of age, and someone had caught them kissing outside of the theatre, and printed it the next day. Draco found out when they were heading to a muggle cafe that he frequented, about to turn in the door when someone smaller than him came barrelling out and bumped into him, sending him a few steps backward. He looked down to see a familiar head of curls, and gorgeous golden brown eyes. He smiled at her, opening his mouth to say a quick “Hello,” but Astoria squeezed his arm, saying that she was a bit chilly and they must hurry, casting a small smile Hermione’s way, before Hermione’s expression changed into something sour, and she detailed loudly that she was late for a meeting, and she couldn’t stay and chat, and she pushed through them, breaking their hold on one another.
Draco didn’t turn to look at her.
The Daily Prophet had named Astoria “London’s New Golden Girl,” and Draco grinned. His girl wasn’t golden, she was ruby red, and he bathed in her.
Draco proposed in mid May 2005, taking Astoria to Paris asking if she would become the next Malfoy wife, and all too soon, the Wizarding World we’re speculating on when the two would tie the knot. They had become obsessed with Astoria, giving her fame, offering her her own fashion line, and she was slowly etching her way into witches and wizards hearts alike. Draco had once told her about S.P.E.W, so she used her newfound status to get the charity kickstarted, asking people to mail the prophet if they knew of any house elves being mistreated, to see if any of the elves would be wanting to go to lower class households and work there. In the eyes of the public, and Draco himself, Astoria was a queen, and Draco was so excited to betroth himself to her, and bind themselves together for life.
All came crashing down, when Draco saw a mark on Astoria’s neck, and he asked her where it had come from. She played dumb, saying she was trying out a muggle hair appliance for an article, and she had burnt herself, but he knew she was lying. He knew by the way her clothes smelt like smoke, a familiar scent, but not his own. Astoria would say she was going out for a meeting, and she would come back, hair disheveled, her clothes in disarray, and Draco’s heart finally shrivelled up into nothing. He’d been hurt once before, and he refused to allow Astoria to hurt him this time.
Draco rolled his eyes, nudging Astoria to stop her talking with Theo. “It would do you well not to flirt with my highschool acquaintances at our own engagement party, Astoria.” He spoke into her ear, and she placed her drink on the bar, opening her mouth to speak, but her grip on his arm went limp, and she fell to the floor. Everyone around them rushed to her, to make sure she was okay, and Draco glanced up.
He made eye contact with Hermione, knowing from his first glance that it was her, his theory being correct as golden eyes bore into his grey. He could see a look of triumph on her face, as she drank back the rest of her wine in one gulp before placing it on the bar, and she turned to walk away.
Not without giving him a wink, and a smirk, did she turn and he watched her walk away for the second and last time.
Draco looked at his fiancée still crumpled on the floor, but breathing, and he thought, with a sick smirk, that revenge is one sweet dish, especially when served by Hermione Granger.