It's not that Hermione did not love him - Merlin, she was in love with him.
She thought of it before - if he asks her. She thinks of things to say - I do, I love you. No, not now, I'm not ready. Yes, but let's wait.
And maybe it was fear of what the future held, or fear that it might all go to waste. Or maybe, in simple sense, she just wasn't ready. She wasn't up for it yet. She tried to tell herself that she loves him, that should be enough of a reason, really. She doesn't know what answer to say when he asks.
She only knew the answer when he was down on his knee that night.
Hermione sighed from the nth time, trying to smooth the wrinkles from her dress. She was standing anxiously in her living room, waiting for Harry and Pansy to show up.
She clutched the envelope tightly in her hand, wondering if it was a good idea to even go.
Just as she almost walked back to her room, already finding an excuse to tell Harry and Pansy, her floo roared to life.The couple looked lovely, and Hermione looked at them like she was a mouse caught in the trap.
“Surely, you’re not about to go back to your room and tell us excuses, were you, Granger?” Pansy asks her as she dusts her dress off.
Hermione rolled her eyes at that. “No, I was not,” she says, straightening her back.
“You look lovely, Pansy,” she tells her honestly. Pansy looked beautiful in a midnight blue dress that hugged her figure perfectly. Her shoulders were bare, a heart shaped dipped in front of her dress.
Pansy smirked at that, before looking at Hermione up and down. The latter rolled her eyes at her inspection, “And thankfully, you wore the dress I bought you.”
It was a white satin dress which flowed freely from the waist down. There was a slit by the leg and Hermione reluctantly agreed with Pansy.
“Thank you for agreeing, ‘Mione,” Harry says from beside Pansy before walking towards her and giving her a hug.
She pokes his chest when he pulls away, “As if you gave me any choice.”
He smiles sheepishly at that, before grabbing Pansy’s hands. Hermione follows behind them as they apparated to the gala.
The gardens of Malfoy Manor were just as she remembered. She groans when her feet land on the cobblestone walkway, really hating apparition.
She turns to face Harry and Pansy who were behind her. “Don’t leave me alone, alright?”
They understand immediately what she means. Harry nods at her, giving her a soft smile as he touches her hand.
Pansy scoffs, but she pulls Hermione by the shoulder, “Really, Granger. Why are you so ansty? It’s not like you did not brea-”
“Pansy,” Harry cuts her off, and Hermione is thankful for him but she knows what Pansy means. She absolutely has no right to feel like this - about seeing him. Not when she was the one who walked away. It doesn’t help that he’s Pansy’s best friend. Hermione knows where the witch’s loyalty will lie and she doesn’t mind, really. Hermione hates herself for it, too.
Pansy just rolls her eyes and waves Harry off. “Come on, we’re about to be late.”
The ballroom was oozing with the air of grace and formalities. After attending many galas the Malfoy had thrown, she still wasn’t used to it.
Pansy had excused herself, approaching Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini from the corner of the room, not before placing a kiss on Harry’s cheeks. The two Gryffindors stood near the staircase, Harry’s arms wrapped around her waist comfortingly.
“I’m really sorry for dragging you here. But Ron’s not invited and I really needed someone I know. I didn't want to ask you, really,” he tells her apologetically.
She wasn’t mad at him. She understood completely how he felt. So she turns to him and pats his cheeks, “it’s fine, Harry. I don’t mind.”
They greet those who approach them, shaking hands when needed. Pansy comes back a minute later, a glass of wine in her hand as she approaches them, placing her hands on Harry’s shoulder. He removes the arm he has wrapped around Hermione and holds Pansy, kissing her cheek.
Hermione envies them for their happiness.
“How was the reunion with the Slytherin?” he asks.
Pansy shakes her head laughing, “We just met 3 days ago, remember?” she asks sarcastically, but a soft smile is on her face.
She laughs at the two of them. Even though she is quite envious really of their happiness, she is happy for them. They fit together perfectly. Pansy and Harry absolutely adore each other.
“Pansy, your face is turning red,” Hermione says laughing, pointing out at the pinking of Pansy’s ears. Pansy glared at her and the witch just laughed at the effect of alcohol on her friend. Even with just a sip, Pansy would become red already.
She is about to tease her again when she hears a clear of throat. She feels her back stiffens as she clutches her dress.
“Draco, hi,” Pansy says, untangling herself from Harry and giving him a hug.
Hermione closes her eyes before taking a breath and looking at him - for the first time in 3 years. He still looks the same - still the same Draco Malfoy. Expensive robes hung from his body, his hair styled, parted to the side. Hermione is selfish enough to call him beautiful.
“Pansy,” he says smiling, shaking his head as the witch pulls away from him.
“Potter,” he says, and Harry gives him a grin before shaking his hand.
“The Manor is beautiful, Draco,” Pansy tells him, and Hermione is thankful that she gives her time before Draco greets her.
“It’s Astoria’s and mother’s doing,” he says, shrugging his shoulders.
Astoria. Right.
He faces her now, a surprised look on his face, which was quickly masked away by a look of robotic politeness he would reserve for guests.
“You're here.”
She nods, looking at him. “I… yes. Harry forced me to go,” she says awkwardly.
He hums, staring at her, and she counts 1, 2, 3, 4 before he speaks again, and she can hear the sincerity in his voice. “Well, I’m glad you came.”
He smiles at her before Pansy starts asking him about his trips and tells him she hasn’t seen him in weeks. Hermione is thankful as she lets out a breath of relief.
Harry looks at her from the corner of his eyes and she just gives him a tiny smile, assuring him that she’s fine. Before he can say anything else, she excuses herself from the group, heading to the bathroom.
After locking herself in the bathroom for 3 minutes - she knows because she counted, she takes a deep breath and patted her hair down. She’s fine. She can get through the night.
She did not prepare herself - she did not expect she was going to talk to him again. She merely thought she was going to attend the gala, be at Harry’s and Pansy’s side, and avoid the crows when she needed to. Clearly, that did not happen.
Sighing, she opens the door of the bathroom and she stops herself from gasping when she sees Narcissa just outside by the hallway, already looking at her.
She’s rigid as she steps out, closes the bathroom door, and walks out to the hallway. She stops just a good foot from Narcissa, and the witch just looks at her, a cold gaze on her face.
“What are you doing here?” Narcissa asks her, and she doesn’t try to hide the contempt from her voice. Hermione wanted to run away.
“Mrs. Malfoy,” she says, bowing her head slightly.
Narcissa raises her eyebrow at Hermione, as if waiting for her answer. Hermione straightens her back, rolls her shoulder. “I was invited.”
The older witch just stares at her before scoffing, “Draco invited you?”
“He did.”
Silence fell between them and she remembers the last time Narcissa was hostile to her - it was during Hogwarts. It’s been so long. She feels bitterness and sadness clamp in her throat. She murmurs an excuse, attempting to walk away, wanting the conversation to be done when Narcissa’s question stops her.
“Why are you here?”
She knew the implication of her question. But contrary to what Narcissa might believe, she didn’t have any plans for that.
“As I said, I was invit—”
“No,” she cut her off, eyes hard. “You’re not allowed here. You’re not allowed to ruin this for him, to break his heart again .”
Hermione closes her eyes and nods. She licks her lips, taking a breath before answering, looking the older witch in the eyes.
“I promise you, Mrs. Malfoy, I’m not here for that,” she says slowly. “I’m simply here because I was invited.”
Hermione knows she has no right to even try. She does not plan to.
“You would’ve been perfect for him, you know?” Narcissa suddenly says, catching Hermione by surprise. She stands there frozen, as she listens to what she’s saying. “What a shame, I used to think. I liked you.”
Her heart sank at that.
“Astoria’s a perfect lady. She makes him happy.”
She swallows the bitterness she feels, trying to smile at Narcissa even though she knew the witch sees right through her. She clasps her hands together, trying to mean the words she says wholeheartedly. She thinks she’s almost there. Just a bit more.
“I know, Mrs. Malfoy. I’m happy he’s happy.”
“Are you?”
She nods. It’s a half truth - she would learn to be happy for him. She already is.
“I’m sorry I’ve hurt him. But I’m not here to pinch salt onto the wound again. I’m really only here because I was invited.”
“Good. Because he’s finally happy now,” Narcissa tells her, and Hermione could hear a pleading tone in her voice.
She feels worse. 3 years later, you’d think she’d be free from it. But she understands - it was painful. Painful to see her son heartbroken. So she nods mutely, 5 times, before she walks away, leaving Narcissa.
When she sees from the corner of the ballroom, Astoria hands draped on Draco’s arms, she nods to herself again.
Hermione decided to visit the foyer on the second floor where visitors were allowed. She sees the familiar walls of Malfoy Manor again as she climbs the step, gripping her wine glass in her hands albeit too hardly. She reaches the door that leads to the open area and slowly opens it and steps into the foyer.
She sips her wine as she slowly approaches the railing, leaning against it, arms placed above. The cold is brushing against her skin but she doesn't care. She thinks back to the meeting with Narcissa, with the small talk with Draco, with Astoria draped over his arm during dinner. She wonders if it was a perfect idea to have gone here.
Really, she had no intention of going. Harry forced her, saying he needed her beside him as he’s about to mingle with Purebloods now that he was dating Pansy. She had rolled her eyes at him then, saying that it wasn’t her problem. But she loved Harry too much, Merlin. He told her he would be more at ease with someone by his side - someone he was familiar with, so she agreed.
Also maybe because she had wanted to see him.
She’s disturbed from her thoughts and silence when she hears the glass doors open. She turns around and her heart catches in her throat when she sees him. He has a surprised look on his face as he clears his throat.
“Hermione. I didn’t know you were here,” he says carefully.
“It’s fine. I was just getting a bit of fresh air. Harry’s with Pansy, they’re really letting everyone know they’re together,” she tells him slowly, not really meeting his eyes.
“They’re lovely.”
She snorts at that and she hears him snicker, “They are. But they do get quite clingy.”
They stood there awkwardly before he started to walk back, still looking at her, “I wanted to get air, too. But you can ha-”
“Draco,” she tells him and his name felt foreign from her lips. “You can stay, I don’t mind.”
She doesn’t know why she says it. She might have a knack of wanting to hurt herself where it hurts. He looks at her unsure, before slowly settling beside her by the railing, quiet beside her.
Moments passed and the only thing that could be heard was the echoes of the breeze and the distinct noise and music from inside. She grips her wine glass tighter, not really looking at him.
“I’m sorry for inviting you,” he breaks the silence. “I know you hate these types of galas, and you really didn’t want to go to these before , but I just… haven’t seen you in so long,” he says, trailing off, rubbing his neck with a sheepish smile.
Before. Hermione really did not want to talk about things before.
She just shrugs at that, waving her free hand in the air. “Draco, it’s fine. I’m a big girl. Plus, Harry’s with me.”
He nods and he keeps his distance from her. Both of them place their arms above the railings of the foyer. Cold, November breeze sweeps through and she resisted the urge to shiver. Whether it was because of him or the air, she doesn’t think too much.
She brings her glass to her lips, sipping the champagne, and she can see him smiling from the corner of her eyes. She looks at him, a questioning look on her face when she finishes it.
“You always did love your white champagne.”
She snorts at that, a smile playing on her lips. “A little too much, Pansy would say.”
They settle in silence again, the soft music playing from the ballroom echoing faintly outside. He clears her throat, and when he asks her, it was sincere, she knows.
“How are you?”
She doesn’t answer honestly. Instead, she settles for the answer he’s supposed to hear from her.
“I’m okay. Nothing new, really. Still busy with the Ministry,” she says shrugging.
He nods from beside her, eyes looking at the view from the foyer. “I’m sure you’re managing well. You’re brilliant.”
Her heart clenches at his words. She swallows a breath, before replying, making sure her voice wasn’t shaky.
“Thank you,” she says softly, genuinely. “I try. What about you?”
He hums before replying, “I’m alright. I just came home from a trip to France last week with Astoria’s family.”
Of course. She nods mutely at that, not really knowing what to say. The silence that settles in the air wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable. It was peaceful to say the least. She thinks to herself, who knew talking to your ex lovers was this easy?
She faces him then, brows furrowed, sipping her champagne. He looks at her, angling his body to face her completely as he arches a brow at the look on her face.
“Aren’t you,” she says slowly, pointing at the two of them, “worried about people finding you here, talking with your ex girlfriend?”
The laugh he quietly lets out was music to her ears. Any other case, she would have been offended. But she wasn’t. Instead, she smiles at him, poking his chest. If he realizes she suddenly freezes when she does the action, he doesn’t say anything. She slowly lets her free arm fall back to her side, clutching the satin of her dress.
“I’m sure they don’t mind by now. It’s been 3 years,” he tells her.
She didn’t have the time to wallow at the depth of his words which she was sure he didn’t know what it meant to her when the door to the foyer opened. Her eyes went to the figure who just came in and her eyes landed on Astoria Greengrass.
She gives her an awkward wave as the latter gives her a small smile, before standing beside Draco, intertwining their hands together. Draco’s eyes immediately found Astoria’s and he gives her a smile, kissing her forehead when she’s by his side. Hermione felt like she was intruding and dying.
“Oh! Draco, you’re here! I was looking for you,” Astoria tells her, briefly looking apologetically at Hermione. She was surprised at that.
“Sorry, Tori. Shaking hands with people gets a bit tiring. My robotic greeting has failed me now,” Draco tells her laughing.
Hermione was about to excuse herself when she saw Astoria tug at his hand. Draco seems to remember who was there with him as he glances back at Hermione, giving her a sheepish smile before clearing her throat.
“Astoria, this is—”
“Hermione Granger, yes. Hello,” Astoria cuts Draco off, which earned a chuckle from him.
If anything, what Hermione wasn’t expecting was for Astoria to look at her without any anger nor irritation on her face. Instead, a smile was plastered on her face, and Hermione had been around enough purebloods to know that it wasn’t forced nor fake.
“Hi, Astoria,” she says awkwardly with a smile, not really knowing what to say. “You look lovely.”
Astoria beams, stepping out from Draco’s hand, and pulling Hermione into a hug which took her by surprise. She tried to hug back, stretching the hand with the wine glass out of the way. Astoria pulls away, and Hermione realizes that she has this aura of grace and honour with her that didn’t come off intimidating nor superior.
“So do you,” the other witch replies softly. “I’m glad to have met you, Hermione. I’m sure Draco hasn’t told you but really, I adore you.”
Draco groans, but it’s lighthearted, “She’s really a fan-”
“I’m not a fan,” Astoria cuts him off, slapping his chest. “I just really love her works and novels.”
Hermione gave a grateful smile to the witch, her tense shoulders relaxing. “I’m flattered, really.”
Astoria smiles at her, before looking back to Draco. Hermione looked away.
“I’ll go meet father for a while, Draco,” she tells him and she could hear him murmur a reply. From the corner of her eyes, she sees him place a kiss on her cheeks.
She’s broken out of her reverie as Astoria calls out her name, “It was nice meeting you, Hermione. I hope to see you around?”
She nods at her, giving her a small wave.
“Yes. You too, Astoria.”
Astoria excuses herself, exiting from the foyer. Draco was still looking at the door where Astoria had entered. Hermione smiled sadly to herself, looking back out the foyer.
“Astoria’s a nice girl. She’s beautiful.”
She hears shuffling from beside her, and Draco is back by her side.
“She is.”
She looks at him from the side, and he’s looking below at the garden, and she could see a tiny smile playing on his lips.
She shakes her head softly, biting her lips. She didn’t know what she expected when she came here. He looks at her, and she smiles, tries to , at him.
“I’m glad you’re happy, Draco,” she says sincerely. And she means it, truly.
He nods at her, looking like he wants to say something but stops himself. Instead, he tucks his hands in his pockets and shifts on his weight.
“I hope you’re happy too, Hermione. You deserve it.”
She just shrugs, giving him a smile. Not really deserving, I am not , she thought to herself.
He proposes to Astoria.
They were dancing in the middle of the ballroom, all eyes trained on them. Narcissa was standing by one of the pillars along with Mrs. Greengrass, and both women were smiling.
When the notes started to slowly fade, he held Astoria by the waist, stopping her from moving away. Hermione knows what he’s about to do. It’s all too familiar; it made her want to wretch her guts out.
Hermione could see a confused look on Astoria’s face. She also sees Draco give her a small, reassuring smile, before going down on one knee, and gasps were heard all across the room.
“Hermione,” he murmurs against her hair as he pulls her closer by the waist after the music ends.
“Yes?” she asks him, looking up from her lashes, giving him a curious look.
“I know you hate grand things — forgive me,” he starts off and Hermione finds dread settling in her stomach when she sees him fiddling with his inner robes. “But I just… I love you and…”
He goes down on one knee, pulls out a beautiful ring. It was a silver band, studded with the littlest diamonds, circling it. She could also see a faintest of M etched on it and she knew it was a family heirloom.
She swallows the gasp she was about to let out, and she realized everyone gasps, chatters of excitement surrounding them.
“Draco,” she tries to tell him, holding his hands.
Don’t , she wanted to say. I’m not ready. I don’t want this.
But he gave her a reassuring smile, one that did quite the opposite.
“I love you. So fucking much. Marry me?” he asks, a beautiful smile on his face, silver eyes imploring hers.
“Astoria, I love you. Marry me?” he asks, a tiny smile on his face.
Astoria was crying, hands covering her mouth as she nodded, a watery yes stumbling out of her lips. Cheers and applause are heard as he stands up, a bright smile on his face. He kisses her forehead, slipping the ring onto her finger.
Hermione drowns the champagne from her glass.
“I love you. So fucking much. Marry me?” he asks, a beautiful smile on his face, silver eyes imploring hers.
She swallows, tears in her eyes, as she shakes her head. She dropped his hand, stepping away, and she fucking hated the fact that she was responsible for the heartbreak and confusion etched on his face. He looks crestfallen.
But she isn’t ready yet. Not now.
“I’m not… I can’t,” she says.