i'm right where you left me - lilith prince (necrokylo) - Harry Potter (2024)

Chapter 1: this is me trying

Chapter Text

The pounding headache was only made worse by the fluttering of the interdepartmental memos fluttering above Draco’s head in the crammed lift. Even worse, two wizards in the back had begun a loud, enthusiastic conversation about the weekend, every syllable echoing as thrums of pain in his ears.

Draco inhaled between his clenched teeth, rolling his neck in an effort to relieve the stiffness left from his sleeping position. He, of course, had passed out in a drunken heap on the floor of his kitchen which wouldn’t be so bad if his kitchen wasn’t as small as the lift he was currently in, resulting in his head resting against the cabinets in an odd angle all night.

No more drinking , Draco thought to himself but the sincerity of the words fell short.

After the War was over and he was not thrown in Azkaban like he was hoping, Draco began drinking regularly and mornings such as this would result in a very stern declaration of no more drinking. But as time passed and the drinking only increased, his declaration held less and less weight. Much like his declarations that everything would be okay and he would move on from the War. It was all a load of bullsh*t but still he chanted these declarations into the void of his mind like maybe someday he would have a revelation and he would start trying.

But to Draco this was trying, waking up every day, going to work, putting up shields against hexes and curses aimed at him instead of letting them meet their mark and suffering as he should. Night after night, he drank himself as close to death as possible, but come morning, he donned his finest robes and rode the lift to the Ministry. There, he ventured to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, where the so-called "Brightest Witch of Her Age" would eventually appear, dictating his menial tasks for the day.

His stomach lurched in sync with the lift's abrupt stop, and his feet seemed to drag him forward reluctantly. A scornful, feminine voice sneered, "Filthy Death Eater," just as the lift doors closed behind him.

An exasperated groan escaped Draco's lips as he slammed the drawer shut. Leaning heavily on his elbows, he cradled his throbbing head in his hands, trying to find some semblance of relief amidst the aftermath of his self-inflicted intoxication.

No more drinking, no more drinking, no more drinking.

The next few hours passed at a glacier’s pace, Draco planned Granger’s schedule for the next week and processed updates that arrived via owl from their members out in the field. Among the messages were more desperate pleas from the Centaurs, seeking aid in repairing the ravaged Forbidden Forest. Yet, it was all too predictable – the Ministry's indifference toward the creatures' plight, preoccupied as they were with tracking down the last fleeing Death Eaters and manufacturing more of their deceptive Golden Trio propaganda. The war's aftermath seemed to fade into oblivion, while the scars of the magical creatures and the lingering wounds of those who survived were conveniently overlooked.

The rhythmic clicking of heels announced Granger's arrival. She appeared impeccably put together, clad in her usual brown tweed blazer and matching pencil skirt. Her hair was neatly tied in a bun, a subtle attempt to tame the wild curls that refused to be tamed. A fleeting glance in her direction, and Draco quickly averted his gaze, feigning engrossment in the file before him.

“Malfoy.” Her tone was bland, the cheery voice she used to greet him with his first few weeks gone.

“Granger.”

“Late night?”

He offered only a noncommittal hum in response, pretending to be absorbed in the file as she passed his desk. A whiff of parchment, lemongrass, and lavender flooded his senses as she breezed by and closed the office door behind her.

This was the way their interactions always were. The pretense of friendship or reconciliation died very early on after Draco refused to do more than reply with one word responses. Granger had tried for weeks to break through his barriers, extending invitations to pub nights and inquiring about his mother's well-being. But with each passing day, as the office endured layoffs and the department's funding dwindled, her spirit seemed to wane. Their interactions now revolved strictly around work, though they still exchanged jabs, the sharpness of their intentions gradually blunted by the passage of time.

Granger's office seemed to burst with life and organized chaos. Her substantial wooden desk burdened by parchment and books, ten different quills scattered haphazardly across its surface. Overburdened shelves groaned under the weight of countless volumes she had amassed during her tenure as Head of the Department. Pictures of her, Potter, and the Weasel were displayed proudly on the walls, capturing moments of friendship and shared triumphs. But one photograph stood out – a small, unmoving portrait of a couple that she had carefully placed amid the disorder. Draco often speculated that they might be her Muggle parents, but he found himself reluctant to inquire.

Now that he was seated in front of her and had nowhere else to look but at her, he could see the slight downturn of her lips and the crease that always formed in between her eyebrows as if she was perpetually worried about something.

“Yes, I have them but I will have to get them to you tomorrow.”

“And why is that?”

“They’re in my flat.”

“You took confidential files home with you?” Her response was pointed, the disappointment beginning to manifest on her face.

“Not intentionally.”

“‘Not intentionally’? How do you unintentionally bring sensitive files home with you?”

He knew she wasn’t going to accept an excuse so the truth would have to suffice. “I was leaving the archives and was taken in for questioning again. I was distracted afterwards.”

"It's from a winery owned by elves who are properly compensated. Do you want some or not?" Hermione's response held a hint of desperation.

"Firewhisky for me," Draco decided, sticking to his familiar choice.

Without hesitation, she opened a drawer in her desk, retrieving a bottle of wine and a bottle of Ogden's Firewhisky. In an abrupt motion, she swept her arm across the desk, sending parchment and books tumbling to the floor. Draco instinctively flinched at the noise, attempting to mask his surprise by nonchalantly running a hand through his hair.

Brandishing her wand, Hermione transfigured a couple of books into a glass tumbler and a wine glass, pouring a drink for each of them. She levitated his glass to him, and he accepted it, resisting the urge to down the entire contents in one go. Instead, he took a measured sip, relishing the welcome burn as it coursed down his throat.

Hermione, on the other hand, wasted no time in downing her entire glass of wine before promptly pouring herself another. She slouched back in her chair, precariously holding the newly filled glass with her fingers.

"Rough morning?" Draco mirrored her question from earlier.

"Rough f*cking year. Our budget proposal was rejected again," Hermione seethed, clenching her jaw as her gaze fixated on the ceiling. Her unguarded manner of drinking suggested that she wouldn't judge him, prompting Draco to empty his glass swiftly and refill it without hesitation.

"Abbot says the Centaurs still need help rebuilding. I'm guessing we won't have the funds to assist them?" Draco probed further.

Hermione scoffed bitterly. "We barely have the funds to get toilet paper, so no."

A heavy silence descended upon the room as they both continued to drink. Draco's leg twitched with anxiety, contemplating whether it was time to make a swift exit. However, before he could act, Hermione sat up and refilled her glass once more.

“Do you ever wish you had just not made it to the other side of the War?” The words escaped in a hushed whisper, her eyes glazed as she stared unfocused at her glass.

Draco froze, studying her face as she hunched over the desk. He could see the same vacant, haunted look in her eyes that he would see in himself when he accidentally caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. The vacant stare that was punctuated by flashes of manic fear, as though he were still trapped in that foreboding drawing room, awaiting the Dark Lord's punishments. And now, that same desperate glint of mania danced in her eyes as she fixated on her transfigured glass.

His brows furrowed with concern, and he locked eyes with her, his voice tinged with disappointment, "I thought you promised you were done with drinking."

Caught off guard, Granger's eyes widened, and she stammered, "Y-Yes, I was just, um, having one glass of wine with Malfoy before heading to the Burrow." She attempted to regain her composure, an undeniable hint of unease lingering in her expression. "You know how anxious I get with all of us gathering like this, so many people—" Her voice trailed off, unable to meet his gaze.

“Duly noted. Thank you for this intervention, I will now be going to drink myself into my grave if you will excuse me.” He pointedly glared at the door behind Weasley, jaw clenched.

“Malfoy,” Granger's voice broke through the tension, her concern evident in the crease between her brows. He felt a mix of frustration and vulnerability as he met her gaze, wishing he could shake off her sympathetic looks. But beneath the pity, he saw the same emptiness, the same haunting vacancy.

Do you ever wish you had just not made it to the other side of the War?

“Don’t forget to bring those files tomorrow first thing.” Granger said coolly, composing herself. The two men watched her, but she seemed distant, indifferent.

Do you ever wish you had just not made it to the other side of the War?

Granger's soft, pained voice resounded in his ears, an incessant reminder of the uncertainties that lingered within him.

The room blurred around him as Draco drowned his thoughts in the amber liquid, seeking refuge in the fleeting oblivion that intoxication offered. As the night wore on, his glass seemed to empty and refill on its own, the boundaries between reality and illusion blurring with each passing moment.

He closed his eyes, trying to shut out the image of her glassy-eyed stare, but her words clung to him like a relentless shadow, refusing to be ignored.

Draco's eyes fluttered open, greeted by the warmth of sunlight filtering through the curtains. Yet, something felt amiss – an inexplicable sense of restfulness that sent unease crawling under his skin.

Fumbling for his wand, Draco hastily performed the Tempus charm. The numbers that materialized before him triggered a surge of panic – he was over two hours late.

“sh*t, sh*t, sh*t, sh*t, sh*t!”

In a frenzy of rushed movements, he stormed into his room, quickly discarding his rumpled robes and replacing them with a fresh set. Grabbing the files he was meant to deliver to Granger, he clutched them tightly, his heart pounding in his chest.

The emerald flames erupted in the fireplace as he uttered his destination.

Granger was going to kill him.

Chapter 2: haunted

Chapter Text

I just know
You're not gone, you can't be gone, no

Come on, come on, don't leave me like this
I thought I had you figured out
Something's gone terribly wrong
Won't finish what you started
Come on, come on, don't leave me like this
I thought I had you figured out
Can't breathe whenever you're gone
Can't go back, I'm haunted

haunted - taylor swift

Draco hurried through the corridors of the Ministry, his mind a whirlwind of anxious thoughts and worst-case scenarios. The world around him blurred as he remained fixated on the impending encounter with Granger, unable to shake off the weight of his inner monologue.

Granger would be furious. That much he knew. She might fire him. Or murder him. The only faint glimmer of hope rested in the memory of her civility during the previous day's briefing. Perhaps, just maybe, she was still too drained to unleash her full wrath upon him.

Finally arriving at the door to her office, Draco took a moment to steady his breath and slow his frantic heartbeat. With a hesitant knock, he pushed open the door and stepped inside.

"I am so sorry I'm late. Here are the files you needed," he managed to slip on his mask of indifference as he addressed Granger, eyes moving from the floor to her.

But it was not Granger sitting at the desk. Instead, it was Liz Tuttle, a familiar face he had seen in passing a few times. Draco had believed she had been relocated to the Department of Mysteries after handing over the Head of Department position to Granger.

"No problem, Mr. Malfoy! You work hard, no reason to feel bad about coming in a little late this one time," Liz greeted him warmly, her eyes filled with kindness. She gracefully brushed her long braids away from her face, a genuine smile lighting up her features.

"Erm, is Granger out for the day?" Draco inquired hesitantly, finally allowing himself to scan the office now that the immediate threat of death-by-Granger had dissipated.

To his surprise, the office had undergone a complete transformation. The chaotic stacks of books were gone, replaced by meticulously organized shelves adorned with small trinkets and law books he had never seen before. All of Granger's personal pictures that once adorned the walls were now missing, leaving behind blank spaces. Her desk, once a whirlwind of papers and clutter, was now neat and orderly.

Draco gave a silent nod.

"I haven't heard a word about Miss Granger since the Final Battle, much like everyone else," Liz explained, her own confusion evident.

Alarm bells rang in Draco's pounding head, and he felt the weight of the revelation crashing down on him. "But she was here yesterday, in this office. I work for her," he insisted urgently.

A deeper look of perplexity settled on Liz's face as she replied, "Mr. Malfoy, you and I met yesterday in this office, don't you remember? We discussed the Centaurs and the budget increase."

Draco's mind reeled, and he stared blankly, unable to process what he was hearing.

"Are you feeling alright?" Liz inquired, her concern evident. "No one has seen Miss Granger in two years. The general assumption is that she left for the Muggle world. But if she had been working at the Ministry, the Daily Prophet would have made a fuss about it."

The world around him felt wrong, like this was all some twisted joke or an illusion spawned from his alcohol-induced stupor. The lingering effects of last night's indulgence still clouded his mind, making it hard to discern reality from the haze. Yet, one thing remained clear—that conversations with Granger had been real.

Despite the splitting headache that pounded in protest, Draco tried to focus. Hermione had to be somewhere, but his muddled thoughts made it impossible to form any sort of hypothesis. He knew he couldn't have conjured up that entire interaction with her, the last two years post-war, eighteen months of that working together consistently.

"I'm terribly sorry, Miss Tuttle," he offered a white lie, trying to mask the unease that churned within him, "I'm not feeling quite myself today."

Her response was understanding, and he welcomed the approval in her voice. "Take the day off. You've done more than enough this week with the budget proposal. And perhaps one of your brilliant Hangover Potions might help."

Granger was gone. But she couldn’t really be. She was going to the Burrow the night before and there was a third party member of their conversation the day before. He hated where this train of thought was taking him, he knew he would have to go talk to the Weasel if he wanted to figure out why Granger was gone from the premise and begin to unravel why Liz was adamant that Granger hadn’t been seen in years. Perhaps she had reached her breaking point and decided to leave her position, but that alone couldn't explain the unexpected budget increase. Only yesterday, it had been slashed, and the notion that Liz could have secured an increase in such a short time was implausible. Her claim that he had contributed to the proposal left him baffled, as he had no recollection of such involvement.

It was like a vortex, all of these thoughts sucking him into more and more confusion. But he knew he couldn’t just go home and pretend nothing was happening, so he steeled himself and began the journey down to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement

“Tonight?” Draco responded dumbly, all thought of Granger leaving him as the Weasel looked at him with no trace of disdain.

“Pub night! You know that thing we do every week where we get sh*t-faced and complain about life?” the Weasel chuckled, seemingly lost in a distant memory.

"It was a nightmare as usual," Weasley replied, "Mum and Ginny ended up screaming at each other by the end of it, so I owe you ten galleons. I was sure they would save it for next month, but of course, I was too optimistic."

"How was Granger? I know she was worried about the whole thing." Draco's eyes searched Weasley's face, hoping for some confirmation.

A genuine confusion washed over Weasley's features, "Hermione?"

Draco nodded, his heart sinking.

"Mate, you know I haven't heard from Hermione in years, and you know firsthand how much her leaving messed me up," Weasley said, looking genuinely upset now.

Frustration building inside him, Draco moved forward, standing over Weasley's desk with a determined look on his face. "Weasley, you and I talked to her yesterday. You yelled at me. We aren't friends," he asserted firmly.

Now Weasley's expression shifted to one of hurt, "What is wrong with you? Of course, we're friends, Malfoy. How could you say that?"

Exhaling in frustration, Draco raised his hands in defeat, "Why are you guys doing this? You think it's funny to prank me, make me believe that everyone suddenly forgives me and likes me?" The confusion and uncertainty were becoming unbearable, and he couldn't fathom why his reality seemed to be falling apart with Granger at the center of it all.

"Mate, everyone does like you. Why would we lie to you for months on end, demanding you hang out with us? I know we had our differences before with the War, but you're a good bloke," Weasley said earnestly, trying to reassure Draco.

Draco was taken aback, his anger rushing through him. "Where is Hermione? She's my boss, I work for her. She's Head of Magical Creatures, you know this! You were there when she was promoted! You guys have been dating since the War, you all hate me so desperately you told me to drink myself to death yesterday!" he exclaimed, frustration evident in his voice.

Weasley's expression turned from confusion to concern. "Mate, did you hit your head?" He reached forward as if to check Draco for injuries.

"What the f*ck is going on?!" Draco had had enough and stormed towards the door.

"See you tonight!" Weasley yelled after him, the statement sounding more like a question than a confirmation.

In the deafening silence of his tiny flat on Diagon Alley, Draco was finally alone with his thoughts.

Something was terribly wrong. Granger was gone, and it seemed as though no one even cared. She could have been taken by someone, and maybe everyone had been Obliviated, but how many people would they have to Obliviate to get away with it? They obviously hadn't bothered with him.

Do you ever wish you had just not made it to the other side of the War?

That damn question haunted him. Did she already know she was in danger? Was she being blackmailed? Or did she leave on her own?

Nothing made sense. There were too many possibilities and too many loopholes.

Draco desperately hoped that Granger hadn't chosen to disappear on her own accord. It would be unfair if she got to escape from the oppression of post-war expectations while he was left stuck in this reality.

He exhaled, banishing that line of thought from his mind. There was no way that she would leave voluntarily. It was a relief, but it also implied that foul play was likely involved in this situation. And how far did this deception go? How many people thought she left after the War?

If it was everyone but him, he would have to start seriously considering the possibility of some strange alternate universe unfolding before his eyes.

When did he stop referring to him as the Weasel?

Draco groaned in frustration, and he forced himself to sit on his couch, glancing at the clock to see how long he had before everyone gathered at the Leaky Cauldron. Three hours. Just enough time to concoct a series of increasingly absurd theories.

The Leaky Cauldron hadn’t changed in the few years since Draco was last there. After his father was thrown into Azkaban it was made clear he would never be welcome back at the establishment. He was anxious as he entered, hoping that this supposed previous involvement in pub night would mean he wouldn’t be thrown out as soon as he crossed the threshold.

“Malfoy!”

It was Potter, a goofy grin on his face as he waved him over to the group gathering.

Potter's concerned gaze lingered on Draco until he quietly asked, "Malfoy, come to the bar with me?"

Sighing, Draco stood and followed Potter to the bar, where they both ordered glasses of Firewhisky. Potter motioned for Draco to take the seat next to him.

"What's wrong?" Potter's words were laced with genuine concern.

"No, Potter. Here, I can prove it." Draco reached into his pocket, pulling out the note with Granger's address that she had given him. "She gave me this with her address so I could owl her about work."

“Hello, cousin. Lovely night, isn’t it? Although it does feel a bit empty tonight.” Luna remarked, her ethereal gaze drifting off into the distance.

Luna merely hummed in response, gracefully turning away and drifting back to the booth where Weasley and Potter were conversing in hushed whispers, casting occasional glances at Draco. They looked as if they were about to haul him off to the Janus Thickey Ward.

Feeling the weight of the bizarre evening, Draco decided he had enough of pub night. He left a few galleons on the bar for his drink and headed out the door, making his way towards the address he had memorized from Granger's note. Maybe more answers could be found there.

Chapter 3: the archer

Chapter Text

I wake in the night, I pace like a ghost
The room is on fire, invisible smoke
And all of my heroes die all alone
Help me hold onto you

I've been the archer
I've been the prey
Screaming, who could ever leave me, darling?
But who could stay?

'Cause they see right through me
They see right through me
They see right through

the archer - taylor swift

Draco hesitated outside of Granger's flat, discreetly flicking his wand to cast Homenum Revelio . The flat appeared empty, save for a few faint traces of tenants on the other floors of the building.

Navigating Muggle London on his own for the first time, he easily found the three-story apartment building nestled between a small coffee shop and a Greek cafe, just a few blocks away from the Leaky Cauldron.

Before entering the flat, Draco cast several detection spells on the door, checking for any wards or traps. Surprisingly, all diagnostic spells came back negative, except for a fairly simple Muggle repellant ward.

Though surprised by the lack of protection, Draco was thankful he could proceed without having to navigate through additional obstacles. He carefully uttered a simple Alohom*ora , unlocking the door, and stepped inside with his wand at the ready, anticipating any potential surprises.

The moment he entered, darkness shrouded the living room. He flicked his wand again, casting Lumos to illuminate the space in a soft, blue hue. The room resembled her office, with tomes and notebooks scattered haphazardly on dark wood shelves, and more books spilling onto the coffee table and side tables. Across the room, a Muggle television sat unassumingly, while a worn, black leather couch occupied the center.

Moving further into the flat, he made his way to a small dining room situated to the left of the entrance. A white marble dining table stood bare, except for a single piece of parchment and a set of keys. Draco hurriedly moved to the table, picking up the parchment when he recognized Granger’s handwriting.

Dear Harry and Ron,

If you're reading this, then the compulsions I cast must have finally worn off, which means it has been 6-8 weeks since I left.

I'm sorry for leaving without telling you, but I knew you would both do anything to make me stay. I'll try to answer some of your questions:

- I can't provide specifics about the spells I cast, as it would incriminate me, but when the initial compulsion fades there will be an overall understanding that I resigned and left to study abroad. This isn't the truth, so don't pursue that as a lead. Everyone’s belief that I vanished after the war won’t last and the only people who will remember the fake story will be the two of you.

- Please don't be angry with Malfoy when you realize you've been treating him with respect. He won't remember how poorly you treated him since the war, so at least be civil if you don't wish to continue the friendship.

- No, this isn’t an elaborate plan where I die at the end, I just need to live my own life. I left because I can’t breathe, there’s too many expectations and memories that follow me wherever I go.

Ron, I'm sorry I left you like this. You deserve someone who can give you all the things you want and need in a relationship, and that person just isn't me.

Harry, I'm genuinely happy for you and Ginny, and I know you'll have a wonderful life together.

My lease on the flat ends in January, so feel free to take anything I left behind and vanish whatever you don't want.

Please don't look for me.

I love you both forever and always,

Hermione Granger

Draco seethed with anger, his hand trembling as he clutched the letter in frustration.

Why did she leave and manipulate everyone's minds? She was hailed as a savior of the wizarding world, with the power to have anything she desired, but she departed as if burdened by the weight of it all. While she abandoned her responsibilities, Draco faced the aftermath of the Dark Lord's destruction of his childhood home and family. Even after the Dark Lord's demise, he endured relentless death threats and abuse from the public, both verbally and physically. How hard could it be to bask in the adoration of the masses, welcomed like a celebrity every time she stepped out? She was handed a prestigious job that people worked decades to qualify for, and she just walked away from it all.

Draco longed to be treated like an ordinary person, free to stroll through the wizarding world without keeping his guard up. He would give anything to mend his fractured family, to heal the deep wounds of their painful past and the judgment they faced now. His father was under house arrest due to his involvement in the Department of Mysteries and sheltering known fugitives. His mother was spared from charges thanks to Potter's intervention, but the disapproval from the Pureblood community left her isolated, severing years of relationships with other women. Though they were now on the other side of the war, escaping the oppressive grip of the Dark Lord, Draco knew they still mourned the life they once had.

Granger seemed to have everything – her friends mostly survived, and she was celebrated for her achievements. Hailed as the Brightest Witch of Her Age, one would think it was sufficient for her. But apparently, it wasn't enough.

He was so angry at her.

She had dared to meddle in his life, manipulating Potter and Weasley into friendliness towards him, knowing full well their fury when they eventually discovered the truth. Why did she care so much? It was nothing but condescending pity. Draco, the once proud Death Eater, now reduced to a helpless soul who needed his hand held. She wanted to prove the goodness she claimed to see in him, but he knew it was nothing more than pretentious nonsense, and it was not her place to dictate his life.

Rage surged within him, threatening to overflow as he stood beside Granger's dining table, feeling lost and overwhelmed. He knew he needed help – she couldn't simply leave without facing the consequences of her actions. Whatever powerful magic she had cast affected everyone at the Ministry and possibly even all of Diagon Alley, evident from the bartender's obliviousness to the ban he had imposed on him.

As he tried to consider everyone he knew who might have escaped the compulsion, his thoughts turned to his parents at the Manor but he couldn’t involve them in this mess. Pansy was far away as well, working on her new fashion line and spending her time between France and the States, but he was certain she would merely laugh off his predicament.

Finally, he made up his mind and headed for the Floo to make a call. The flames flickered for a few moments before the familiar face of Theodore Nott manifested. His pale complexion glowed in the light, his dark hair curly and messy and a look of concern across his sharp features.

“I need your help.” Draco said simply.

Draco hated her. He always had. They fought and poked at each other for years and although the War had killed some of that fight, there was always a quiet resentment between the two of them. He knew that she pitied him and was constantly reminded of that, but in the beginning of his employment they would yell at each other endlessly. It was only the exhaustion of the work they were doing and the after work drinking on Draco’s part that began to kill the heat. They would still argue but it was more subdued, less serious jabs thrown back and forth. Except for that meeting the day before.

Do you ever wish you had just not made it to the other side of the War?

The flash of green from the hearth jolted him out of his thoughts, Theo’s lean figure striding into the room.

There was a soft click and the living room was bathed in light, Theo turning to face him with a cheeky grin on his face, “Light switch. You know, the thing that turns the lights on. Why would there be attackers lurking in Granger’s flat?”

“It’s a long story.”

He sauntered over to the coffee table, setting down the bottle of Firewhisky he had brought with him before turning on his heels and heading towards the dining room and the kitchen beyond it, lights igniting as he made his journey. The soft thuds of cupboards opening and closing filled the air before he returned, holding two mugs in his hands.

Taking his seat on the other side of the couch, he poured the dark liquid into the mugs, pushing one towards Draco with the words 'Boss Bitch' emblazoned on it. He lifted his own to his mouth, a single raised eyebrow visible over the Flourish & Blotts mug as he drank.

"What do you know about Granger?" Draco inquired.

"She was a thorn in my side at Hogwarts, always besting me in every single class. She's bloody brilliant."

"I mean in the last year," Draco clarified.

Theo sighed, "Hermione Granger, member of the Golden Trio, Brightest Witch of Her Age, recipient of a First Class Order of Merlin for her exceptional bravery, intelligence, and contributions during the Battle of Hogwarts, Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, Boss to one snarky arsehole named Draco Malfoy." He recited.

"Oh, thank Merlin," Draco sighed in relief, "You are the first person I've spoken to that remembers properly."

"What do you mean 'remembers properly'?" Theo questioned.

Draco simply handed him the letter, observing as Theo read it, his expression growing more perplexed.

"This is a lot," Theo muttered, placing the letter on the coffee table with furrowed eyebrows. "So she cast some kind of compulsion? What exactly does she mean by that?"

"I went to the office today, and she was gone. There was someone else in her office claiming that she had disappeared after the Final Battle. I went to the Weasel because he had been there the day before, yelling at me in Granger's office, but he didn't remember anything and claimed the same thing. The worst part is the f*cker was being nice to me."

Theo chuckled, "Leave it to Granger to add a 'Be Nice To Malfoy' clause in whatever ritual she performed."

Draco glared, "The worst part of it all is that he was actually offended when I said we weren't friends. Same with Potter, he was trying to cart me off to St. Mungo’s an hour ago when I told him they hate me."

Theo rubbed a hand over his face before drinking the rest of his drink, "So Granger wanted to leave, she was a little dramatic in altering everyone’s memory temporarily by some mysterious ritual to get a head start to escape, but what exactly do you need my help with?"

"I’m going to find her and bring her back."

"But why? I don’t understand. You still have a job, you have two thirds of the Golden Trio being nice to you for a few weeks, why not take advantage of that and then go back to being hated when they remember?"

"Because it’s not fair. She is trying to interfere with my life, and she’s escaping like a coward."

Theo looked at him carefully, "Mate, she went through a lot in the War. She even said it in the letter, she obviously feels trapped by the expectations of everyone, and to be honest, she deserves that. You shouldn’t drag her back and ruin her chance at a new life."

"I don’t care. I’m going to find her and at least make her answer for the way she’s treated me."

Theo sighed, his jaw set, "Okay, so you need my help in tracking her down. I will help you, but I don’t think it’s a good idea."

"Thank you," Draco said sincerely, finally reaching for the 'Boss Bitch' mug as a sense of relief overcame him.

"I do have a question, though. Why didn’t the compulsion affect you?"

Draco paused, “I hadn’t even thought of that, honestly.”

“What a surprise, the great Draco Malfoy didn’t think.”

“I assume that she cast this compulsion in the Ministry and Diagon Alley, but I was in both places yesterday.”

“In the letter, she claims you won’t remember the way Potter and Weasley treated you, so she must have intended for it to affect you as well.” Theo offered.

“That is odd.” Draco’s mind was racing.

The two sat in silence as they drank, both trying to come up with some idea.

“Your signet ring.” Theo broke the silence, smiling like he had just solved the greatest puzzle of all time.

"What about it?" Draco wasn’t following.

Theo rolled his eyes, “You remember when you asked me to find a goblin that could make you a new enchanted signet ring when you were having all of those issues during your trials?”

“Yes?” Draco still was not following.

“Merlin, you are helpless. You specifically had it enchanted to protect you from the Imperius and Obliviate spells since all those Death Eaters were trying to change your memories and incriminate you.”

"So you think she Obliviated everyone?"

"Don't be daft, that would take forever to Obliviate all those people one by one. Goblin-made enchanted jewelry works for a broader range of memory spells as well. Any magic cast on you that would affect memory won't work."

"I guess that fortune I spent on this ring was worth it then. Imagine if I hadn't, I would be cursed to actually respect those dunderheads forever." Draco shuddered at the thought.

"Oh yes, Merlin forbid you put aside petty House rivalries and stop blaming them for the things the Dark Lord put you through."

"Oh goodie, another Golden Trio fanboy."

Theo visibly tried to refrain from rolling his eyes for the millionth time tonight. "I'm just saying it wouldn't be the end of the world if you just cut them some slack."

"Cut them some slack? They're the ones who still scream 'Death Eater' every time I dare to breathe around Granger."

"Right. Well anyway, the mystery is solved. The signet ring saved you from the terrible fate of having a few more friends, so now you can track down Granger and give her a stern talking to for having the audacity to make her own decisions."

"Just let me know if you can find any evidence of her in the Floo Network, Portkey, Muggle transportation—"

Theo cut him off, "Yes, I know how to do my job, Draco," he snapped as he stood up, registering Draco's dismissal.

"Look, thank you for helping me. I know it doesn't make sense, but I appreciate it." Draco was sincere as he looked up into the other man's dark eyes.

Theo looked taken aback by the sincerity, "Of course, Draco. I may not understand why you need to do this, but I trust you." He headed for the floo, grabbing a fistful of powder.

"And I will be telling Blaise." His signature Cheshire cat grin was back on his face as he quickly muttered his destination and disappeared in a flash of green.

"f*cker." Draco hissed in the empty flat.

Chapter 4: slow life

Chapter Text

I think I know what's on your mind
A couple words, a great divide
Waiting in the wings, a small respite
Crowding up the foreground from behind

Even though you're the only one I see
It's the last catastrophe

Place your bets on chance and apathy

Take anything you want, it's fine
Keep up the slow life for the night
Don't take it back, I'll just deny
This constant noise all the time

slow life - grizzly bear

Alone in Granger’s flat, Draco decided he should try to gather as much information as possible before Potter and Weasley come to in a few weeks and start pillaging the place. He headed towards the corridor that led out of the living room, finding the rectangular plate on the wall that he had seen Theo manipulate to turn on the electricity. He knew that electricity existed but he was so used to the enchanted lights in the wizarding world he had never thought to learn how electricity worked and how to turn on lights.

He headed for the door to his right, finding a small bedroom. As he flipped the light switch on, he was surprised at how neat the room was considering the rest of her flat. There were more bookshelves, as expected, and a large bed, the navy blue comforter rumpled as if she had been sleeping fitfully before her departure.

There was a small desk against the window and Draco headed to it, finding half written memos and a few job applications left unfilled. He sifted through the drawers and found nothing of interest so he turned to the bookshelf on the far wall. It was filled with an array of tomes, some old and worn, others pristine. He curiously scanned the titles, discovering they all centered on memory spells and their reversal. Journals of people's experiences with memory magic were stacked alongside comprehensive guides on the subject.

He selected a few of the books and headed back to the living room, he settled into the couch and began reading one of the books as he drank straight from the bottle of Firewhisky. Nothing he read seemed to link to the compulsion, most of it was linked to memory charm reversal so he switched to another book.

As the first rays of dawn crept through the windows, Draco's eyelids grew heavy, and he succumbed to exhaustion, the book slipping through his fingers.

The next few weeks were exhausting for Draco, the passing time only increasing his anger and anxiousness over the situation. He continued his position in the Ministry, adjusting to his new boss who was so overly nice to Draco it made his head spin. The budget increase meant more work for him so he tried to lose himself in his work during the day but he was constantly interrupted by Potter and Weasley, asking him how he’s feeling, asking him to lunch, trying to get him to come to pub night with them, it was all too much. He responded with cold dismissals and curt responses and they slowly started to back off.

He spent his evenings in the privacy of Granger’s flat, pouring over books all night and drinking until he passed out. He would floo call Theo every night, checking for updates but every day he was met with dismissal which would only fuel his simmering anger. He began to hope that Potter and Weasley’s compulsion would fade early and they would rush into the flat and take their anger out on him. The whole situation was driving him to insanity, he was fluctuating between hope that he would find Granger and anger that she had meddled in so many lives instead of just telling her friends and leaving like a normal person.

Two weeks had passed since Granger's disappearance, and Draco's mind was consumed with a plan he had carefully crafted. He made a stop at Gringotts, exchanging a handful of galleons for Muggle money, the thin paper feeling foreign in his hands as he stepped out of Diagon Alley and headed towards Granger's flat.

Every night, he would pass by the Greek cafe, feeling a pang of envy as he watched people enjoying their meals. Tonight, he decided to venture inside and treat himself to dinner. While he had experienced higher-end Muggle restaurants in France with Pansy, she always took care of the ordering and payment. This time, however, he would have to navigate the interaction with Muggles and handle the monetary exchange on his own. Normally, he wouldn't go out of his way for such an experience, but the irresistible smells emanating from the cafe were driving him mad as he waited for Theo to gather information on Granger.

He stepped into the Muggle establishment called “Dionysus”, the interior of the cafe very casual with blue and white accents. As he approached the counter, a young woman with a deadpan expression greeted him.

“What can I get you?”

Draco scanned the menu, trying to remain calm as his heart beat erratically. “Can I get a lamb Souvlaki wrap, please?” He asked, meeting her eyes.

She seemed amused by his politeness, “Sure thing. One souvlaki wrap. Anything to drink?”

Draco hadn’t thought this far, “Whatever you would recommend.”

“We have the usual soft drinks.”

His mind was racing, what the hell is a soft drink? He quickly tried to think of something, “Apologies, my parents didn’t let me drink soft drinks so I’m not familiar with the options.” He was so embarrassed, why was that the explanation his mind went to.

The cashier laughed, her eyes glinting, “Alright then, I’ll get you a co*ke then, sir.” She was pressing buttons on a machine of some sort, clicking sounds echoing in the empty cafe. “That’ll be £7.50.”

He pulled out his Muggle money, looking for what he needed, he only had five, ten, and twenty pound notes so he put down a ten and said, “Keep the change.” Surely they accepted tips like the establishments in the wizarding world.

She nodded and smiled, putting the note in the machine before relaying his order to the cooks in the back. Draco stepped away from the counter, sitting at a small table nearby.

“Did you just move to this area?” The cashier was leaning over the counter, a curious smile on her face.

“No,” Draco paused, unsure of how to play off his presence in the cafe, “I’m visiting a friend who lives in a flat next door.”

“Oh, who is it? I know most of the tenants.”

Draco decided this may be a good time to gather some information if the woman happened to know Granger, “Hermione.” Her first name was foreign in his mouth.

Her eyes lit up, “No way, you’re a friend of Hermione’s?”

“I work with her.” He answered truthfully.

“You work in Law with her? How is she? She hasn’t come by in a few weeks.” There was a twinge of concern in her tone.

“Yes, I actually work as her assistant. She’s okay, she’s been a bit ill so I’m just here checking in on her.”

“Oh, I’m sure a fit man like yourself could fix her up in no time.” She winked at him before heading to the kitchen.

He was left alone in the cafe and couldn’t help but feel impressed with himself for navigating the conversation almost perfectly, aside from the fact that he had made the impression that he and Granger were friends. Truthfully he couldn’t wait to find Granger and let her have a piece of his mind on this whole bullsh*t disappearing act.

The cashier reappeared with a bag in one hand and two drinks in a drink carrier. “I went ahead and put in Hermione’s usual order and a tea to help her feel better, free of charge.”

Draco stood up and grabbed both of the items from her, “Thank you so much, I’m sure she will appreciate it.” He gave her a smile and headed for the door, stunned that she was nice enough to add on a whole extra meal at no charge. He felt a bit guilty, knowing that there was no Granger waiting for him.

Back in Granger’s flat he settled on the floor between the couch and the coffee table, he had taken it upon himself to start tidying up the place since he had been staying here so often. The casual atmosphere of the Greek cafe inspired him to have a more relaxed dinner, so he reached for the television remote and carefully operated it, managing to switch on the news channel after some fumbling.

He reached inside the bag of food, pulling out his food and the straw for his drink, leaving the extra meal alone. He decided to try the drink first, inserting the straw and taking a tentative sip. The fizziness was the first thing he noticed. It was similar to the fizz in Butterbeer but it was much more intense with this drink. The sweetness was satisfying, and Draco found himself enjoying the refreshing taste, taking a few hearty gulps before placing the drink back down. He unwrapped his Souvlaki wrap and took a bite. The pita bread was warm and the lamb inside was so well seasoned, the herbs and spices blending perfectly with the tangy tzatziki sauce. Draco audibly moaned at how good it was.

A sudden green flash interrupted Draco's dinner, his heart seizing with fear as someone emerged through the Floo.

It was Theo, who walked in and stopped in his tracks upon seeing Draco on the living room floor. "What are you doing?"

"Can't you tell?" Draco snapped, slightly embarrassed with sauce dripping down the side of his mouth.

"You're watching television?" Theo couldn't believe it.

"Yes, I'm watching television. Why are you here?" Draco attempted to change the subject. "I thought you were Potter."

Theo chuckled, crossing to the other side of the coffee table and placing a stack of files before sitting down across from Draco on the floor. "We'll get to that in a minute. Do you have enough food for me? I'm starving. I've been working non-stop."

Draco nodded, pointing to the bag. "She gave me an extra meal. I don't know what it is, but apparently it's what Granger usually orders." He reached for the remote, turning the volume off.

Theo's eyebrow arched at that, reaching for the bag. "Where did you get it?"

"The Greek cafe downstairs."

"The Muggle cafe?"

"Yes."

"You went into a Muggle cafe and bought food?"

"Obviously." Draco glared at him.

"I can't wait until I tell Blaise and Pansy about this." Theo grinned, opened the container and started to eat the meat and rice inside.

Draco groaned, "Why do you have to tell them? I am perfectly capable of interacting with Muggles. I am a grown adult and can figure out their money and talk to them without making a fool of myself." He tried to suppress the memory of his poor explanation about not knowing what a soft drink was.

"Right," Theo said slowly. "Anyway, I have all the information relevant to Granger."

"What did you find?" Draco asked, sipping his drink.

"We found a lot. Did you know she Obliviated her parents during the War?"

Draco froze, "Are you serious?"

"Yeah, the summer after Dumbledore died, she Obliviated them and relocated them to Australia under new names. They have no idea they even have a daughter."

"I guess that explains all of the books on memory charm reversal then," Draco said, motioning to the stack of books he was currently working through.

"She's had a lot of appointments with Mind Healers over the last few years and reached out to a multitude of specialists in the area, but from what I've found, no one has been able to help her."

"This is sad and all, but what does this have to do with her disappearing?"

Theo sighed, "Well, obviously she has probably discovered some obscure memory ritual to perform on half of wizarding England. And she used her mother's name to book a plane ticket to America."

"America?"

"America. She took a flight to Nashville, Tennessee, early morning the day everyone forgot about her, and then she used the same name to book a hotel room that night in Nashville. We tried to find other records of her staying at hotels, but we couldn't find anything else."

"What the bloody hell is Tennessee?"

"It's a state, Draco," Theo replied between mouthfuls of meat.

"Okay, can you get me an international Portkey for tomorrow?"

"Draco, you know you can't travel via Portkey, and you would be tracked down in an instant if you were caught Apparating in another country since you're still technically on probation."

"Merlin, I didn't even think about that." Draco said as a mischievous glint appeared in Theo's eye. "What's that look for?"

"Well," he clasped his hands in front of him, leaning on his elbows, "I could get you to America."

"How?"

"Have you heard of aeroplanes?"

"You're joking."

"I am not joking. I could get you a flight to America first thing in the morning and a car rental so you can go track down Granger in America yourself since you're so dead set on it."

Draco groaned, "Fine."

Theo was taken aback, "Are you serious? You'll actually do it?"

"I won't enjoy it," Draco hissed in response.

"I should've known you would agree the second I walked in and you were enjoying a bit of Muggle television and cuisine." He seemed pleased as he said it, finishing off his food and placing the trash in the takeaway bag. "Well, I need to go and find you a new identity, get you a ticket for the flight, et cetera et cetera, so if you will excuse me." He stood up, brushing off his suit. "I will see you at five tomorrow morning to take you to the airport."

"Okay, I'll get off work for the next two weeks. Liz Tuttle is so smitten with me thanks to Granger, I doubt she'll object."

"What a world we live in," Theo smirked, making his way back to the floo.

Draco hummed in response as the flash of green signaled Theo's departure. As he finished off his co*ke, his mind raced. He was going to have to ride a plane - he had no clue what that meant except for the fact that he'd be trapped in a metal box in the sky.

And how the bloody hell was he going to learn how to drive a Muggle car?

Chapter 5: dreams

Chapter Text

Now here you go again, you say you want your freedom
Well, who am I to keep you down?
It's only right that you should play the way you feel it
But listen carefully to the sound of your loneliness

Like a heartbeat, drives you mad
In the stillness of remembering what you had
And what you lost
And what you had
And what you lost

dreams - fleetwood mac

Draco’s hands were shaking as he sat in the crowded gate area in the airport, surrounded by Muggles chattering and the loud sounds of voices over a speaker giving information he didn’t understand.

Theo had picked him up early in the morning, giving him a bulky mobile phone, Muggle money, a passport and driver’s license with his new name, Draco Granger, while barely concealing his laughter. Draco had grumbled about it for the entire drive to the airport before Theo gave him quick advice on navigating the airport, using the telephone, and handed him a Road Atlas and a few guides on driving cars for “light reading” during his long flight to the States and sent him on his way.

As they announced that the plane was boarding, Draco followed the line of people, clutching his ticket in his hand and pulling his suitcase behind him. Getting to a seat was fairly easy but as he got over the initial anxiety of getting there, he realized that now he was going to have to spend nine hours in this tube of death in the air with a bunch of Muggles. He loved flying brooms so he hoped that this love would translate to his current predicament. But as the plane took off all he could repeat in his mind was: this is all Granger’s fault.

The safety briefing only intensified his inner panic, but as the hours wore on and the flight attendants kindly served him a co*ke, Draco began to acclimate to the plane's slight movements. Turning his attention to the driving guides, he made mental notes about getting an automatic car from the rental place; mastering a manual shift in such a short time was beyond his abilities.

Before he knew it, he consumed three more co*kes, a tasteless meal, and the plane finally descended, landing in Tennessee.

His first few hours in Tennessee went by in a blur of jetlag. Renting a car turned out to be surprisingly simple; he presented his license and exchanged some Muggle money, and before he knew it, he had the car keys in his hands. He had shuddered when they referred to him as “Mr. Granger” but he quickly recovered and thanked them as he departed. Thankfully, he was a quick study and was able to navigate the car with only a few minor hiccups. His hands were sweaty as he drove through the city but he was able to get out of town and find a small hotel to begin going through with the plan he had been concocting since the truth behind Granger’s disappearance was made known to him.

In the privacy of his hotel room, he finally retrieved his wand, unable to wait any longer to attempt to contact her.

Thanks to his years studying Legilimency and Occlumency, Draco remembered a spell that could establish a telepathic link with the target, allowing the caster to communicate silently through their minds and sense their emotions and general direction. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and began visualizing her face, from her wild brown curls to her expressive, deep brown eyes. He added the straight nose and slightly downturned lips, even recalling the freckles scattered across her tan skin. His mind lingered on one freckle that sat close to her lips, a detail he often found himself distracted by during their interactions.

Pushing aside the irrelevant thoughts, he focused on the wand movements and the incantation, whispering firmly, "Mentiscommunio."

A gentle pull in the direction of the West confirmed the connection, though it didn't feel as strong as he had hoped. Still, he concentrated with all his energy as he attempted to communicate through the telepathic link. "Granger?"

There was a moment of surprise on the other end, and he held his breath, waiting for a response. The silence stretched on, and he stood in the dimly lit hotel room, his eyes closed, feeling the weariness from the long flight and the energy the spell was consuming.

Finally, the connection ended and he collapsed on the bed, running his hands through his translucent hair. He had tested the spell once before and the pull of the connection was much stronger since the target was close to him so he knew he was going to have to travel further to find her.

It was only midday but he was so tired, the weight of the jetlag and the stress of navigating a foreign Muggle country weighing him down. He hated Granger for putting into this position, he felt hopeless, if she was somewhere hiding in the wizarding world it would have been so much simpler, he could have shown up and given her a piece of his mind and then gone back home in the matter of days.

His frustration had been simmering through his whole trip but now that he was alone, his anger unleashed itself. He felt a gnawing need to confront her, to demand answers and retribution for the pain she caused him and the impending pain of her friends who would turn that energy against him. He truly didn’t care about the hurt that would be felt by Potter and Weasley but as soon as they remembered how much they despised him, the resulting confrontation would be detrimental for Draco. And Granger obviously didn’t care, she went through with her selfish plan and dragged him into it. If it wasn’t for his signet ring, he would have been clueless to it all, a zombie who forgot about that year and a half of working with her and the relentless mistreatment he endured from the lesser two-thirds of the Golden Trio. She performed some sort of illegal compulsion and didn’t even care how it would ensnare Draco in the turmoil. She was probably relaxing somewhere, unaware that her little Draco Malfoy redemption project had failed and he was coming to confront her over it.

His thoughts slowed as the exhaustion overtook him and he succumbed to his slumber.

He awoke early the next morning, still in the clothes and shoes he had traveled in. He showered and changed before reloading the car with his suitcase. Knowing that Granger was far to the West, he consulted the Road Atlas, deciding to set his sights on a state called Nebraska. He tried to stay calm but the unease of being in Muggle America was constant. He knew he would have to eventually figure out how to put fuel in the car and get food on his journey.

He spent the first few hours of the drive getting comfortable driving as he passed through Kentucky and Illinois, making his way into Missouri. He was surprised by the vast landscapes he saw throughout the time, he knew America was large but he didn’t realize how expansive it really was. Beyond the cities, the scenery transformed into a tapestry of farmlands and gentle hills, surrounding him. As the fuel gauge neared the ominous 'E' mark, a surge of anxiety washed over him, leaving him with no option but to pull into a gas station outside St. Louis.

Parking at one of the gas pumps, Draco remembered briefly reading about this procedure in the driving guides, knowing he had to head inside to pay. Taking a deep breath, he turned off the car's engine and headed into the small building, where a small bell on the door signaled his arrival, causing his body to tense at the unfamiliar sound.

Behind the counter stood a burly man who looked up as Draco entered, “Welcome in.”

“Hello, I need to get fuel.” Draco said mechanically, approaching the counter.

“How much do you need?” the man asked, his fingers poised over a machine similar to the one at the Greek café.

Unsure of the answer, Draco replied, "Enough to fill the car?"

The man laughed openly, “I should have known by your accent that you would be unfamiliar with all of this nonsense. It’s $1.52 a gallon right now so I imagine ten dollars would be enough to fill your car up, does that work for you?”

The man contributing Draco’s lack of knowledge to him being a foreigner relaxed him immensely. Returning the smile, Draco nodded, “That sounds good to me.” he said, taking out a ten dollar bill from his pocket and handing it to the man.

The man took it with a smile of his own, “Where are you headed?” He asked as he pressed buttons on the machine.

“I’m driving to Nebraska today.”

The man nodded, “Nebraska’s beautiful this time of year, you visiting family?”

Draco shook his head, “I’m actually just on vacation by myself, thought I would have a nice American road trip.”

The man handed him a small piece of paper before addressing him, “If you’re having an American road trip you better load up on snacks and drinks while you’re here.” He motioned behind Draco.

Draco turned around and was greeted by rows of metal shelves, all full of Muggle snacks. He had tunnel vision when he entered, only focusing on getting gas and getting out but he was immediately entranced by the scene in front of him. The far walls had weird glass cabinets, all full of bottled drinks.

“I think you’re right.” Draco agreed, walking towards the shelves, “Do you have any recommendations? I’m not particularly familiar with Mu- American snacks.”

“Oh boy, do I have some recommendations.” The man grinned and came out from behind the counter, walking with Draco and explaining the food to him as they walked through the aisles.

A few minutes later, Draco and the man’s arms were full of snacks and a few bottles of co*ke. They returned to the counter, the man keeping his pile separate as he rang up the items.

Draco was secretly giddy at his current situation, he loved sweets and had bought almost one of everything and was excited to try them even if they were Muggle. He tried to reel in his excitement, only allowing himself a slight smile as the man told him his total.

Draco handed him the money and eyed the separate pile, “What about all the other items?”

The man waved his hand, “That’s all on the house, free of charge. It’s not every day we get foreigners in Missouri.”

Draco was shocked, the man was giving him free snacks and being nice to him for no reason. He choked up a little bit at that but swallowed thickly before he sincerely responded, “Thank you so much. I really appreciate it.”

The man placed all the snacks into thin, plastic bags as he spoke, “No problem, man. It’s my pleasure. Just make sure you come by on your way back and let me know how your big American road trip was.”

“I definitely will, sir.”

“Oh please, don’t call me sir. The name’s Rick.”

“Draco.” He responded back, reaching out to shake Rick’s hand at their belated introductions.

“Well, it’s been great to meet you Draco, make sure you don’t eat all these sweets at the same time.” Rick winked, handing him the bags.

Draco smiled, accepting the bags, “Can’t promise anything.”

Draco made his way to the car, carefully placing the bags on the passenger side. Inside, he embarked on a quest to locate the gas cap lever. After a few minutes of searching, he finally found it tucked beneath the steering wheel. Thanks to the driving guide, he had adequately prepared for this moment, knowing how to select the right type of gas and operate the gas pump. Following the memorized instructions, he filled the tank with fuel and settled back into the driver's seat. He reached for his Road Atlas and flipped to a more detailed map of the area, pinpointing his current location among the network of small lines.

Taking a pen, he marked the gas station on the map and wrote 'Rick' next to it, ensuring he could find his way back. He was surprised how kindly the Muggle had treated him and he wanted to return and properly thank him before he left the country- whenever that would be.

As he set the Atlas back down, a sudden shrill noise pierced the car's silence. Startled, Draco jumped in fright, searching frantically for the source of the noise. It didn't take long for him to locate the culprit—a mobile phone hidden in his bag. Recognizing Theo's name on the screen, he pressed the button Theo had shown him to answer calls, bringing the phone gingerly to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Merlin, Draco! I haven’t heard from you since I left you alone at the airport! I thought you had been dragged off to jail!” Theo's frustration seeped through his tone.

“Sorry to disappoint, but I am not currently incarcerated.” Draco replied, rolling his eyes.

“Well, what’s your plan?”

“I’m thinking I may spend the evening terrorizing Muggles. The airplane is a terrible invention.”

“You’re not serious, right?”

Draco let out a sigh, “Of course I’m not serious. Granger’s somewhere to the west so I’m heading that way.”

“Where are you right now?”

“In the car.”

“Draco, I swear to Merlin you have to stop with the sarcasm.”

“I’m in Missouri at a gas station. I’m on my way to Nebraska.”

“You went to a gas station? How is it? I haven’t been to a gas station yet.” Theo's curiosity mixed with a hint of jealousy.

“Honestly, it was incredible. It was like Honeydukes but Muggle stuff. Rick gave me a bunch of free snacks.”

“Who the f*ck is Rick?” Blaise’s voice chimed in.

“Blaise?”

“The one and only.”

“f*ck off, Blaise” Theo's voice cut in, a struggle for the phone evident on the other side of the call.

“Just put it on speakerphone.” Blaise whined, his voice fading into the background.

“What’s speakerphone?” Draco asked, perplexed.

Theo sighed, “It’s a way to make the phone loud enough for both of us to hear you and speak to you at the same time.”

“Yes, now who’s Rick?” Blaise interrupted.

“He’s the Muggle who works at the gas station.”

“Ooh, Mr. Granger got himself a Muggle friend.” Blaise teased.

“You told him about the name?” Draco hissed.

“It was my idea, one of my better ones to be fair.” He could hear the smile in Blaise’s voice.

“I’m going to kill you for that.” Draco promised.

“Yes, you are welcome to kill Blaise when you get back. Just keep me updated on where you are and when you find Granger. Also, Pansy wanted me to tell you she’s in New York so if you get done with your Granger mission and want to see her you can call her up. Her number is on the phone as well.” Theo explained.

“You told Pansy I’m here? Is there anyone you didn’t tell?” Draco ran a hand over his face, frustrated.

“Come on, Draco, have some faith in my confidentiality. I only told those two and technically it was Blaise who told Pansy.”

“Whatever. I have Muggle snacks to enjoy and a long drive ahead of me so I’m gonna go.”

“Let me know how the snacks are and buy me some while you’re there. I don’t know when I’m gonna have a chance to try American Muggle snacks.” Theo said with slight desperation in his voice.

“I’ll think about it. Let’s see how many more people you drag into this then we’ll see. Bye.” He lowered the phone, the voices of the other two still slightly audible as he pressed the red button that ended the call.

He was alone in the silence of the car again, placing the phone in his pocket before pulling out a co*ke and a few of the Muggle snacks to try. He decided to start with ones that looked similar to ones he had in the wizarding world—gummy worms and jelly beans.

Starting the car, he continued his journey, the open road stretching out before him.

Chapter 6: i know the end

Chapter Text

Windows down, scream along
To some America First rap, country song
A slaughterhouse, an outlet mall
Slot machines, fear of God

Windows down, heater on
Big bolts of lightning hanging low
Over the coast, everyone's convinced
It's a government drone or an alien spaceship

Either way, we're not alone
I'll find a new place to be from
A haunted house with a picket fence
To float around and ghost my friends

No, I'm not afraid to disappear
The billboard said, "The end is near"
I turned around, there was nothing there
Yeah, I guess the end is here

i know the end - pheobe bridgers

Draco felt free for the first time since the War.

His hair had grown to his shoulders since the Dark Lord’s death and although he usually kept it tied in a low ponytail, as soon as he had learned how to open the windows in the car, he had let his hair down. The June air was rushing through his hair, the setting sun casting the scenery in an orange pink hue. He had never seen so much open sky.

The rush of the air as he sped down the highway reminded him of flying his broomstick at the Manor before his life was turned upside down. It reminded him of those summers with Blaise, Theo, and Pansy before they were forced into a war. When they would spend the warm days of the year lounging about the Manor grounds or challenging each other to broom races. Things had gotten so complicated after that.

He began to understand how it would feel to be a normal person who wasn’t judged for his past when he went into gas stations for the bathroom and was greeted by kind Muggles. They didn’t look at him with the disgust he was used to.

He remembered learning about Muggle radios in Muggle Studies and he spent a bit of time at one of the gas stations parked, fiddling with the car radio until he found a suitable station to listen to. The music made his heart feel even lighter, renewing his energy as he continued his journey.

Upon reaching Nebraska and settling into a hotel that night, he realized he hadn’t thought about Granger at all. He didn’t ruminate over the War or his parents or any of the things that usually haunted his thoughts day and night.

Once he had moved his suitcase and snacks into the room, he contemplated just going to sleep and skipping his planned communication with Granger. He had come all this way to locate her but today had been incredible for him. Just Draco and the highway, no judgmental looks or petty insults. It was the first time he had been able to enjoy solitude in his life.

He could stay here.

He inhaled sharply at this revelation. He could disappear like Granger was doing. Get his money out of his vault, exchange it for Muggle money, and disappear somewhere in those vast fields he had driven by today. He could still do magic when he was alone, he would miss some of the comforts of the wizarding world but it didn’t feel like home anymore. He craved the freedom he had felt today with the wind in his hair.

But he didn’t deserve it. He would be tracked down and dragged back to answer more questions about his involvement in the War. He would be accused of taking advantage of Muggles. He had caused so much hurt when he had allowed the Death Eaters into Hogwarts. When he didn’t beg Dumbledore to help him and his family. When he had let him be murdered in the Astronomy tower. The last thing Draco deserved was to be accepted into the society of people he had tried to help eradicate.

His stomach turned as the reality of everything crashed down on him, overshadowing that fleeting feeling of freedom. He swallowed thickly, fighting the tears that were threatening to spill.

Do you ever wish you had just not made it to the other side of the War?

“f*ck off!” Draco yelled, his anger rising again. He needed a drink but he hadn’t bought any alcohol since he got to the States. He hadn’t had a drink in days but the anger bubbling in his chest needed the proper fuel.

He reached for his remaining bottle of co*ke instead, taking a few drinks while trying to calm back down. He steeled himself as he pulled out his wand for the first time today, repeating the ritual he had gone through the night before. He cleared his mind, imagining Granger’s face but this time he pointedly ignored the blasted freckle next to her lips.

“Granger? ”

There was silence and a shift to anger in the connection. The spell held up longer now that there was less distance between them.

“Granger, say something. I know you can be thick sometimes but it’s not that hard.”

“I am not thick.” Her response was furious, her voice so familiar to Draco he almost felt relieved to be hearing it again.

“I beg to differ. Where are you? ”

“Like I would tell you.”

“I’ll find you either way. ”

“Is that a threat? ” Her voice hissed, another wave of anger passing through the connection.

“No, it’s a promise.” He could feel the connection waning, “See you soon. ”

“Don’t you dare try to fi-” Her works cut out as the connection fizzled, leaving Draco alone with his smugness.

He chuckled to himself, hoping she was in a blind rage wherever she was. She deserved it.

He spent the next hour in a good mood, imagining Granger in some far corner of America, cursing Draco as he leisurely took a shower and put on sleeping clothes. He hummed to himself the entire time, a song he had heard on the radio a few times during his drive about going your own way. He thinks he remembered them saying it was by a band called ‘Fleeting Mac’ or something similar. He made a mental note to pay better attention if it came on again the next day.

The next morning, Draco sat on the hotel bed, the Road Atlas in front of him as he ate Oreos for breakfast. He had decided they were technically English biscuits if you thought about it hard enough therefore they were a perfectly acceptable breakfast option.

He drew a line across the map in the direction of the connection the night before. The line passed through Wyoming, Idaho, and Oregon, all the way to the coast. He decided he would try to get to Idaho today and try the spell again to see if she was in Oregon or Wyoming but he started to believe she had to be somewhere in Oregon considering how diluted the connection felt even with the closer distance.

He loaded up the car and headed out. It was a longer day than the one before but the hours passed easily for him with the radio playing on full blast and his stomach full of his seemingly endless supply of Muggle snacks. He banished all thoughts of the wizarding world and simply enjoyed the freedom of the open road.

"Mentiscommunio."

A shot of fear ran down the stronger connection. There was a brief panic from the Northwest and as Draco went to communicate, there was a sudden, suffocating coldness from the other side.

It was so familiar to him, he was frozen in place, the coldness seeping into his bones. She was Occluding . The coldness brought him back to those things he had tried to forget, those nights where he had to Occlude so hard he thought he would lose himself as he tried to block out the torture and murder happening in front of him.

His hand was shaking, his wand barely staying grasped in his hand as the frozen tendrils worked through his body. He needed to cut the connection but he was so scared, stuck in his mind with the Dark Lord as screams reverberated through the Manor, flashes of green haunting him. He could hear the cackles of Bellatrix, the sinister laughs of Greyback as he dragged Muggles to his pack of Werewolves for entertainment, the soft sobbing of his Mother behind her bedroom door.

Minutes felt like hours as he stayed petrified, waiting for the connection to die, unable to do it himself as memories forced their way into his mind.

Finally, he was released, his whole body shaking as he collapsed to the floor taking deep, desperate gulps of air. His wand cluttered to the floor along with him and he grabbed it in a rush, casting a dozen warming spells over his whole body, willing the coldness to leave him.

He laid on the hotel room floor, his body overcome by full body tremors for several minutes. As his body stilled, he rose up on his knees, his light hair creating a curtain covering his face. His face was wet with tears he hadn’t noticed he had shed so he hastily wiped them away before standing back up.

All exhaustion from the day-long drive to Idaho had left him, a dull resentment and anger towards Granger replacing it. He had been drinking every night for a year straight to help him sleep without nightmares. The only nights he had ever successfully fallen into a dreamless sleep without the help of alcohol had been the last few nights during his road trip but he knew if he tried to sleep now he would be woken in a fit of night terrors. She had Occluded and forced him to relive the worst moments of his life.

His anger fueled him as he left the hotel room in a flash, lugging his bags back to the car yet again. Though it was two in the morning, he had no intention of stopping. Driving through the night, fueled by determination, he pushed forward.

It was ten in the morning when he made it to a small town on the Oregon coast called Arch Cape. He was positive she was near the town, somewhere in the winding back roads but navigating them would be impossible even with a clear direction from the spell. He was finally feeling tired again and decided he would park near the town square and try to get a few hours of sleep in the car. If he was lucky she would come into town and he could follow her back to wherever she was staying to confront her.

He found a parking spot that was to the side of the few small establishments of the square. From where he was parked, he could see a small grocery store, pharmacy, liquor store, and mechanic on the opposite road while his side of the road houses a coffee shop, restaurant, and a bookstore. He leaned his seat back using the lever on the side, lounging back and discreetly casting a Notice-Me-Not charm over himself and a simple spell that would make his wand vibrate in the presence of another witch or wizard.

It was a matter of seconds before he passed out to the soft sound of rain pattering against the windshield.

The sounds of heavy rain woke him hours later. He sat up in a daze, trying to process where he was, looking around the interior of the car frantically. He calmed down when he remembered where he was and why. He glanced at the clock on the dashboard: it was seven in the evening. It seemed Granger was not going to make it easy for him and just show up in the town square as he had hoped.

He needed to find somewhere to stay tonight, and he needed real food and copious amounts of alcohol. He decided to go to the liquor store first, driving across the street and parking in front of the small building.

He entered the store and was greeted by a similar sight to the gas station shelves but this time instead of Muggle snacks, there were rows and rows of alcohol in different bottles. He had never seen so many different selections in one place. The cashier reminded him of Rick, he was middle aged and had a large build, welcoming him. Draco nodded in response and disappeared into an aisle before he had to have a conversation.

Draco scanned the shelves, recognizing nothing. He was starting to panic internally until he found the Whiskey, the only Muggle liquor he had tried before with Theo and Blaise. He had also drunk a few glasses of Muggle wine before but he wasn’t a big wine drinker, it took far too many drinks to get properly drunk.

He selected a few bottles from the top shelf and headed for the cashier.

“You find everything okay?” The man asked as Draco set the bottles down on the counter.

“Yes, thank you.” He responded politely.

“Oh, another foreigner, are you here visiting Hermione?”

Draco froze, unsure of whether he should confirm or deny this. If the man knows Hermione he may warn her that Draco is here.

“It is charming out here, I’m excited to see her new house. I am having some trouble finding it on the maps though.” He lied, laughing softly as if to ease the man into a false sense of trust. “I’m afraid I may have to resort to camping at the bookstore and wait for her to show up there.”

The man laughed loudly, “Oh, that may yield better results than going to her house. She’s only been here two weeks and I think I’ve seen her there every day. That’ll be $112.45.”

Draco handed him the money, thanking his foresight in bringing an absurd amount of Muggle money with him. He had an obscenely expensive taste in alcohol, Muggle or otherwise.

A few minutes later he sat in his car, Granger’s location marked on his Road Atlas, all thoughts of food and accommodation far from his mind.

Draco was jittery as he drove through the winding roads to Granger’s house. He had caught a few glimpses of the ocean and rocky cliffs in between the thick cover of trees as he drove, stunned by how green everything was. He was also stunned by just how secluded her house was, the final road to her house was at least eight kilometers long, not a single other house along the road. The further he got down the road, the darker the sky got as the sun sank below the horizon.

Finally, Granger's quaint house came into view, perched on the cliff's edge. A solitary car sat in the driveway, and a green garden embraced the exterior, vines snaking up the black walls. The arched windows, reminiscent of Hogwarts, and the ominous vines painted an eerie picture in the fading light. Draco parked discreetly among the trees, hidden from view.

He reached to the passenger side, pulling out one of the bottles of Whiskey and breaking the seal. He needed some liquid courage to face Granger. Although he had been preparing for this moment for the last two and a half weeks, he was suddenly nervous at the prospect of seeing her for the first time since the incident in the office between the two of them.

He sipped from the bottle as he remembered all the moments leading up to now. He remembered the conversation with Granger where she had seemed haunted, the anger he felt when he had to speak with Potter and Weasley, the audacity of her to meddle in his personal life and leave her perfect life. The deeper into the bottle he went, the easier it was to push all of his anger forward as he stared at the exterior of her new home.

As the clock ticked forward and the ninth hour of the evening began, he finally exited the car, slipping the keys into his pocket and gripping his wand tightly. His feet stumbled slightly on the uneven path, his anger the only thing fueling him forward. As he passed the line into the yard, he felt the warm tingle of magical wards. In an instant, the front door was swinging open, Granger standing in the opening with her wand raised. She walked forward, taking a defensive stand a few yards from her front door.

“Leave.” Granger spat, her eyes wide in disbelief at the sight of Draco stumbling through her yard.

“I told you I would find you.” Draco said, the left corner of his mouth raised in a smirk.

“Malfoy, you need to leave.” Her curls were as wild as ever, swaying in the ocean breeze.

Draco was transfixed at the sight and struggled to form a sentence, “No. I think you owe me an explanation.”

“f*ck you, I owe you nothing.”

“Are you joking?” Draco was seething, his fists clenched by his sides. “You at least owe me an explanation! You left and pulled me into your bullsh*t plan!”

“How are you even here?!” Granger screamed, her eyes searching behind him as if someone else was going to jump out of the bushes.

“I drove here.” Draco responded lamely.

“You drove here? From where? Who else is here?” Granger seemed antsy, her eyes frantic and her wand still pointed at him.

“It’s a long f*cking story. It’s just me. Now tell me why you felt it necessary to f*ck my life up.” He growled through clenched teeth.

“You came all the way to Muggle America and toyed with my mind all because you’re angry that I made people treat you better?!” Granger's disbelief was evident as she continued, “What the f*ck is wrong with you?! I finally got away from everything and you have the nerve to just show up on my doorstep to yell at me?!” She lashed out with a Stinging Jinx, hitting his leg.

“f*ck.” Draco hissed, his unsteadiness due to the alcohol making him fall to his knees on the wet grass.

Granger continued, her eyes wild, “What else could you possibly want from me?! Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

“I want you to apologize! You meddled in everyone’s lives instead of facing your problems!” Draco looked up at her from his place on the damp ground.

“You want an apology from me?! You should be apologizing to me! And f*ck you! I can deal with my problems however I want!”

“I could report you for that spell you used.” Draco threatened.

“Are you drunk?!”

"Go to hell."

"You came all the way here just to drunkenly yell at me?!" Granger exclaimed, running her fingers through her hair in frustration. "Why did you have to make this so complicated?"

She looked up at the dark sky, her jaw clenching and unclenching.

Draco attempted to steady himself, swaying from the effects of the whiskey. He tried to stand, his feet still unsteady beneath him.

Granger lowered her head, locking eyes with him in an intense stare. "Pull yourself together and come inside for tea. You have a lot of explaining to do."

Chapter 7: anti-hero

Chapter Text

I have this thing where I get older but just never wiser
Midnights become my afternoons
When my depression works the graveyard shift
All of the people I've ghosted stand there in the room

I should not be left to my own devices
They come with prices and vices
I end up in crisis (tale as old as time)
I wake up screaming from dreaming
One day I'll watch as you're leaving
'Cause you got tired of my scheming
(For the last time)

It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me

anti-hero - taylor swift

Chapter 8: mastermind

Chapter Text

If you fail to plan, you plan to fail
Strategy sets the scene for the tale
I'm the wind in our free-flowing sails
And the liquor in our co*cktails

I laid the groundwork, and then
Just like clockwork
The dominoes cascaded in a line
What if I told you I'm a mastermind?

No one wanted to play with me as a little kid
So I've been scheming like a criminal ever since

mastermind - taylor swift

He was beginning to get the hang of the Muggle world. Engaging in small talk with them felt oddly familiar, though the references and topics differed from those in the wizarding world. Gone was the anxiety he once felt while entering "Dionysus" back in London. Now, booking his fourth hotel in a row, he charmed the elderly woman at the counter effortlessly, casually mentioning his "good friend" Hermione, whom he was visiting. It was all part of his plan, still in its early stages, but taking shape in his mind.

The exact form of his scheme had yet to materialize fully, but he knew its essence—making sure as many Muggles as possible knew about him. Should Granger decide to end his life or succeed in altering his memories, Theo needed ample information to work with. Any attempt to tamper with Muggle’s memories would alert the Ministry, putting Granger's entire plan at risk. He needed to keep himself visible in their world, making it impossible for Granger to ignore him.

He also needed to guard his knowledge regarding his signet ring and its protection as well as the fact that Theo, Blaise, and Pansy knew about what Granger had done and where they were. If something went wrong, they would know where to find him or who tampered with his mind.

He found his hotel room easily, finally able to lug his suitcase somewhere where he wouldn’t have to remove it a few hours later. With a flick of his wand, the contents of his suitcase gracefully unpacked themselves, neatly arranging his clothes in the dresser and hanging them up in the closet. A sense of calm washed over him as he felt the familiar connection to his magic. Within minutes, he had his belongings neatly settled, and his half-opened Muggle snacks, seemingly endless in variety, found their place on the desk in an orderly fashion next to a small radio.

Draco realized he was out of co*ke and hadn't properly eaten since the plane journey – a meager meal at best. He wished he could have another Souvlaki wrap from “Dionysus”. Resolving to address both issues, he decided he would head out and grab some food while taking the opportunity to inform as many town residents as possible about his connection with Granger.

With an hour to spare before lunch, he turned on the small radio on the desk, flipping through the channels until he heard something familiar. The sounds filled the room as he unpacked his toiletries and headed to the shower.

He was surprisingly calm now, despite his early morning run in with Granger where she had attempted to Obliviate him. It was the comforting thought of pissing her off when she found out he was unaffected that helped ease his anger.

The thought of her potential reactions to his presence brought an evil smirk to his lips, and he hummed along to the music of Fleetwood Mac as he ran shampoo through his long hair

It was May 23rd, a Tuesday, and exactly 18 days since Draco had woken up in the wizarding world, all traces of Granger gone. He was now in a small Muggle restaurant called “Harper’s Cafe” in the small town of Arch Cape, Oregon, counting how many days he had available to torment Granger before he had to return to his work at the Ministry.

The numbers raced through his mind as the waitress approached him. She was an older woman, with gray hair streaked with white, and a kind smile gracing her face as she greeted him, “How are you doing today?”

"I'm quite well, thank you," he replied with a polite smile, though internally cursing that he would have to restart his counting after this interruption. Draco found that being cordial with Muggles was surprisingly easy since they weren't giving him disdainful glances based on his family name. If this woman knew the prejudiced ideology he was raised with concerning Muggles, she might treat him differently. He banished this line of thought as she spoke.

“My name is Barbara and I’ll be taking care of you today, can I get you started with a drink?”

“A co*ke would be great.” He responded. She nodded and walked away.

He had been approved for two weeks off meaning he had to be back at work on June 5th. If he decided to fly back via the airport he came in, he would have eleven days. If he chose a closer airport he could have as many as thirteen days. That should give him plenty of time to terrorize her thoroughly.

She smiled, “I always recommend our chili, it’s the best in the Pacific Northwest.”

He laughed softly, “Well that sounds perfect, I’ll take that.” What the f*ck is chili?

“Well aren’t you just the sweetest friend. Miss Hermione was here for quite a few meals her first week here, she’s a lovely girl. You better bring her back here for a nice date before you have to head back to England.” She winked as she headed back to the kitchen.

Suppressing his urge to sneer, Draco instead shifted his gaze to the window, observing the quiet town square outside.

A date with Granger? What a joke. He would sooner throw himself off the Astronomy tower.

Avoiding thoughts of dating Hermione, he focused on his progress so far. He had successfully shared information about his connection to Granger with the man at the liquor store, the elderly woman at the hotel and now with Barbara. He would head to the grocery store and chat a few people up, feigning ignorance to trap them into a conversation before he found something else to do for the rest of the day. Maybe he could take a drive down the coastal road and enjoy some music and the wind in his hair. It was a bit chilly in Oregon even though it was verging on Summer so he had dressed himself in a white button down, layering it with a thick, emerald green sweater to help protect him from the chill and the constant rain.

His mind shifted to the vast, open sky of the road during his journey through the States as he sipped on his co*ke until Barbara returned with a big bowl, some kind of soup inside.

She set it down, the smell immediately causing Draco’s stomach to growl.

“Here you go, let me know if you need anything else. You can come to the counter when you're ready to pay.” She said sweetly before leaving him alone again.

Chili seemed to be some kind of soup or stew, steam curling above it enticingly. He scooped up a small amount, taking a tentative bite. It was delicious. He couldn't resist indulging in it with a ferocity born of three days surviving on gas station snacks. He paused only to gulp down his drink before diving back into the meal.

Every last bite disappeared, and he had to fight the temptation to lick the bowl clean. As he sat, contemplating ordering another serving, his eyes caught a familiar sight in the distance—a head of bushy hair crossing the main street. Instantly, his body tensed with anger as he spotted Granger, heading toward a nearby coffee shop with a visible smile on her face. The sight infuriated him, as if she hadn't attempted to Obliviate him just a few hours earlier.

Draco made an effort to calm himself, taking his time to finish the last of his co*ke before finally approaching the counter. He put on a polite smile as Barbara counted out his change and handed it to him.

"Thank you so much for recommending the chili; it's the best thing I've eaten in a long time," he said genuinely.

"Anytime!" Barbara replied cheerfully.

"I'll be sure to bring Hermione with me next time," Draco added, bidding her farewell as he stepped outside into the light rain.

The coffee shop stood just a few doors down, and Draco took his time strolling towards it, his pristine black boots clicking softly on the wet cement. He had given her enough time to settle in and order her coffee, and now he was ready to catch her by surprise.

A satisfied smirk adorned his face as he reached the door to the coffee shop. Peering through the front windows, he spotted Granger, wearing the same outfit as the night before, engaged in conversation with the barista who was preparing her drink. Her back was turned to the entrance, giving him the perfect opportunity to sneak up on her.

With a soft chime, he opened the door, entering the warm coffee shop. His eyes remained fixed on Granger as he walked inside.

“I just don’t know how I’m going to find enough books to fill all the shelves, let alone furnish the whole house. I don’t know why I bought such a large house.” Granger was saying, her words flowing in a passionate stream. The barista chuckled, offering a glance and a smile in his direction. "I'll be with you in a minute!" she said, focusing back on her work.

As the barista acknowledged him, Granger turned to see who had entered. Her relaxed demeanor was immediately transformed, her eyes widening as if she had just seen the ghost of the Dark Lord himself.

His smirk grew more, “Hermione! Sorry I left so suddenly this morning, I had a business call that nearly slipped my mind.” He said, mimicking the excuse Theo often used.

The barista, having finished preparing Granger's drink, returned to the counter and commented, "I didn't know you had a visitor, Hermione," casting a curious glance between the two.

Granger seemed to snap out of her trance, forcing an insincere smile, “Yes, he was just stopping by to check in on me but he has to head back to England soon.” She accepted the drink, her eyes desperate as if she was planning on bolting out of the door to get away from him.

“I actually have good news, I got approved for time off so I’ll be here until next weekend.” He said, faking excitement and positioning his body so she would be unable to slip outside.

Hermione looked horrified. "That's... great," she replied through gritted teeth.

The barista was watching her with suspicion, seeming to piece something together before she smiled and looked at Draco, “So how do you know each other?”

"We went to boarding school together in England, we're childhood friends," Draco smoothly lied, glancing at Hermione with a feigned sense of affection.

"That's a bit of a stretch," Hermione interjected, trying to conceal her discomfort, "we hated each other, really."

"Hated? As in past tense? Oh, I'd love to know all the juicy details." the barista said with a smirk, clearly enjoying the situation.

“I’m afraid we don’t have all day to go through all the torrid details.” Draco said smugly, eyes scanning the menu, “Can I get a Chai Tea Latte?” He asked for the first drink he read, just wanting to keep the barista busy so he could talk to Granger alone.

"Of course, why don't the two of you grab a seat while I work on that?" the barista suggested.

"Oh, that won't be necessary—" Hermione began to stammer.

"That sounds perfect to me," Draco interjected, looking at Hermione with a pointed expression.

The barista nodded, seemingly pleased, and turned back to her work.

Granger’s eyes darted to the door and he shook his head succinctly. She sighed in resignation and headed for a table near the door. He shook his head again and pointed to the table in the furthest corner, letting his anger show on his face.

She walked ahead of him, her whole body tense as she sat down and placed her cup on the small table.

Draco smiled sweetly as he sat down across from her, blocking her view of the exit.

A few moments of silence passed.

“How was your morning?” He attempted to conceal the anger in his voice but some of it slipped out with his words like venom.

The espresso machines and the heavy rain outside provided a perfect cover, ensuring their conversation remained unheard by the barista.

Granger struggled to respond, her eyebrows furrowed with concern, and her posture reflecting defeat as she slumped over slightly.

“And why would I do that ? We have so much to catch up on and you did say we could continue our conversation in the morning. Sorry I left so abruptly, I wasn’t really feeling like myself .” He hissed, knowing she would understand what he was referencing.

She was just staring at him strangely, her face frozen in confusion.

“Your drink’s ready!” The barista shouted from the counter.

Granger began to stand, but Draco beat her to it, glaring down at her with intensity. "I'm going to go get my drink," he growled in a low voice, "If you try to run, I will chase you down."

She sat back down slowly as he turned away, quickly masking his emotions behind a smirk.

The barista was waiting, a bright smile on her face.

“Thank you so much.” He said, grabbing the drink from the counter.

“No problem at all. I’m Katie, by the way.” She was obviously fishing for his name.

“Nice to meet you, Katie. I’m Draco.”

“So, Draco, you came all the way from England to see Hermione for a night?” Her eyes were glinting as she asked.

“I was just passing through,” He lied, “It worked out well for us though, I’ll be here for a little while longer to help her get settled.”

“I haven’t seen her so happy since she’s been here so you must have done something right last night.” She winked at him.

The bell chimed, signaling the arrival of another customer. Draco gratefully used the interruption to walk away from the awkward conversation.

Did she think they were shagging? It would explain her strange reaction to their conversation before.

As he returned to their secluded table, he noticed Granger sitting uncomfortably, chewing on her fingernails, her drink forgotten. He sat back down, "Your drink is getting cold."

"Oh," she murmured softly, picking it up and avoiding eye contact as she drank.

Draco observed her carefully before asking, “Did I do something wrong?” Feigning ignorance, he knew it would add to the guilt she was likely feeling. “You seemed to be in such a good mood when I came in, I hate to think I did something that would put you in such a bad mood just by seeing me.”

“Drop the act, Malfoy.” she retorted.

"Tsk, we're friends . You should be comfortable calling me Draco by now," he teased, "Plus, Katie thinks we're shagging, so it would be weird if you didn't address me by my first name."

“She thinks we’re shagging?” She whispered incredulously.

Draco nodded, playing with her emotions, "We wouldn't want her to think you were treating me poorly, would we? In a town this small, I'm sure everyone will know about our night together by this time tomorrow." He pretended to be lost in thought, "Although that man working at the liquor store, the hotel clerk, and Barbara also know that I'm here visiting you, so either way, the town will hear all about the nice English bloke who traveled all the way to America to help his childhood friend get settled in her new house." He smirked at her.

“What are you playing at?” She hissed, her eyes burning with frustration.

This was the Granger he missed, full of fire and fight, ready to Hex him into oblivion.

“What are you playing at?” He repeated her own question back to her, relishing the intensity of their confrontation.

“I already apologized for pulling you into this, okay?” She was speaking in a whispered frenzy, “Honestly, I’m regretting trying to help you out even more now. Stop acting like we’re friends and f*ck off back to London. You’re complicating everything .”

Draco laughed, savoring the irony of her words, "How frustrating that must be, Hermione. How does it feel having someone who has only ever treated you terribly suddenly have a change of attitude towards you?"

She stammered, her mouth opening and closing as she failed to come up with a response.

“Terribly annoying, isn’t it?” He mocked.

“What do you want, Malfoy?” She sounded defeated.

“I want to have a nice holiday.” He answered honestly.

“Okay?”

“I’m learning I quite like Muggle America and I would like to enjoy my time here.” He looked at her expectantly.

“What does that have to do with me?”

"Well," he paused, pushing his hair out of his face and leaning forward, "I originally came here to drag you out of hiding and demand you come back with me, but that's obviously not going to happen. I would also like to disappear somewhere in the States, but I don't have the same luxuries as you do, thanks to my probation. So," He smirked, knowing she was going to hate what he was about to say, "You're going to give me a proper introduction to Muggle America."

“Why the hell would I do that?” She was bewildered.

“Because if you don’t I will let the Ministry know all about your little illegal spell and your attempts to Obliviate me. I’m sure my memories would make a solid case. I could also give Weasley and Potter your location, I’m sure that would complicate things for you even more than being thrown in Azkaban would.”

“You’re blackmailing me?”

“Fine.” She conceded, sitting back and crossing her arms defiantly, “But don’t expect me to be nice to you.”

"I wouldn't dream of it," he responded, satisfaction coursing through his body as he smirked at her.

Chapter 9: cool about it

Chapter Text

But we don't have to talk about it
I can walk you home and practice method acting
I'll pretend being with you doesn't feel like drowning
Tellin' you it's nice to see how good you're doing
Even though we know it isn't true

cool about it - boygenius

As they sat in the coffee shop surrounded by the hum of the espresso machines and the soft rain on the windows, Draco felt victorious. He watched Granger drink her coffee angrily, looking everywhere but at him.

“So what are we doing today?” He asked, enjoying the spice of the chai as he sipped his drink.

Granger finally met his eyes, her tone sharp, “We aren’t doing anything.”

Draco rolled his eyes, “Come on, Hermione, you just agreed to give me a proper welcome to Muggle America.”

“I have things to do today so that will just have to wait a few days.”

“I’ll come along with you for whatever you need to do today.” He insisted.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Do I need to bring up the whole Obliviation on the couch thing again?” He sighed.

A flash of guilt passed her face, “Fine. You can come with me.”

She looked away from him again and he found that he missed the intensity of her glare. As he observed her, he couldn't help but notice the changes in Granger. It had been a little over two weeks since they drank together, and she looked remarkably different from the tired and exhausted woman he had encountered in her office. He wasn’t sure if it was the Muggle clothing that suited her so well or the way her eyes were alive and vibrant again- all traces of weariness gone.

He was reminded of her furious glare during their third year, just moments before she had delivered a punch to his face. He was already embarrassed by being punched but the shame and embarrassment that plagued him every time he replayed the moment and realized how attractive she looked as she punched him was even worse.

He started talking, distracting himself from his thoughts, “You know, you wanted to be my friend before, just channel that energy into this and you’ll be fine.”

“Friendship built on the grounds of blackmail isn’t something I’m interested in.” She retorted.

“That’s not fair. I could be sitting here saying ‘friendship built on failed Obliviation attempts aren’t something I’m interested in’ but I’m forgiving you and moving on.” He responded sarcastically.

“There’s a whole list of things you would have to answer for before I could consider you being my friend, Malfoy.”

“You should be calling me Draco. We’re friends and any records of Draco Malfoy in this town would compromise your security.”

Granger's laughter was tinged with bitterness as she replied, “I’m not calling you Draco.”

“Come on, Hermione,” he taunted, “What’s harder: calling me Draco or answering for your crimes?”

Her frustration was evident, “Fine, Draco.”

A condescending smile graced his lips, “Good girl.”

His comment seemed to ignite her anger, and she shot him an odd look before abruptly getting to her feet. Without a word, she marched toward the exit, and Draco swiftly followed suit. They threw their empty drinks into the bin as Katie spoke from behind the counter, “Bye, guys!”

Granger simply waved while Draco shot Katie a wink, his signature smirk back in place.

As they stepped out of the shop, he tried to catch up with her, his long legs struggling to keep pace as she hurried across the empty street. Shielding his face from the rainfall with a raised hand, he jogged to reach her side.

"Where are we going?" he inquired.

“Grocery store.”

“Is it like a gas station?” He asked curiously.

She shot him a sideways glance, her expression puzzled. “I suppose so. It’s like a larger gas station with more food and other household products you wouldn’t see in a gas station. Are you telling me you’ve never bought groceries before?”

Draco paused, “No. I usually eat takeaway or whatever the house elves send over.”

“There’s takeaway places in wizarding Wiltshire?”

“I don’t live at the Manor. I have my own place in Diagon Alley.”

"Oh." Her surprise was evident as they navigated through the few parked cars in front of the expansive store and entered through the glass doors of the grocery store. Inside the brightly lit space, Draco resisted the urge to cast a drying spell on himself; his hair was damp against his face, so he simply brushed it back and out of his face.

Granger moved towards a row of metal carts on the right side of the entrance. He whispered, his curiosity unabated, "What are those?"

“They’re shopping trolleys, well that’s what they call them back in England, in America they’re called shopping carts.” she replied in a monotone, her lingering annoyance still apparent.

“Like trolleys at King’s Cross but for groceries.” He hummed. “I hadn’t thought about the fact that they can’t just Levitate everything.”

She rolled her eyes, “Just stay close and try not to get into too much trouble, Malfoy.”

“Draco.” He corrected.

Ignoring him, she selected one of the carts and pushed it ahead of her as they ventured deeper into the store. The interior was much larger than the gas station, with shelves stocked full of food. What set it apart were the multiple checkout counters to the left of the entrance and the section closest to them, which displayed fruits and vegetables similarly to some of the street markets he had visited with his mother.

As they walked among the fruits, he spotted granny smith apples in one of the bins and promptly grabbed a few. He managed to clasp two apples in each hand before Granger, who had been continuing ahead, noticed he had stopped.

“What are you doing?” She asked, eying the fruit in his hands.

“Buying some apples?” He sneered, slightly embarrassed at how foolish he probably looked.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath as if to calm herself, “You need to get a bag.” She said it as if it was the most obvious thing. Reaching for a flimsy plastic bag from a nearby stand, she handed it to him. He fumbled a bit while placing the apples into the bag, trying to ignore her watchful eyes.

“I’m not paying for those.” She said as he dropped the bag of apples into the cart.

“Don’t be daft, Hermione, I have money.”

They continued to the meat section where Granger placed a pack of chicken in the cart and began looking at the beef, trying to make a decision.

“I prefer the Ribeye personally.”

She cast him another sideways glare–something she was getting really good at doing–before picking the New York Strip instead. He couldn't help but emit a soft huff, nearly a chuckle, in response to her subtle opposition.

He strolled behind her, his hands in his pockets, watching as she placed a few more items in the cart before they proceeded towards the aisles. The first aisle they entered had an array of canned vegetables and Draco looked through the variety in confusion.

“Why did they put tomatoes in a can?”

“It preserves them.”

“Right, no preservation charms.” He couldn't help but notice that in many ways, the Muggle world echoed the wizarding world, albeit with subtle differences.

“Why do we levitate things in stores when we could just use carts?” He asked, moving to walk beside Granger rather than trailing behind.

"I honestly couldn't tell you. It's rather nonsensical." She looked like she wanted to speak more on the subject but was holding back, trying to keep up her annoyed act.

“We have to use magic and concentrate on keeping the spell active while we’re shopping when we could just be pushing carts around instead? It feels like overkill now that I think about it.”

“It's definitely overkill. I've lost count of the times I've become distracted reading a book and then dropped my entire stack. I nearly knocked out a child once at Flourish and Blotts.” She admitted.

A deep chuckle escaped his chest as he imagined a poor, unsuspecting child getting crushed by a stack of tomes by one of the saviours of the wizarding world. Granger watched him, the ghost of a smile appearing on her face.

A Muggle woman turned onto the same aisle as them and he quickly stifled his laughter. Her eyes illuminated with recognition upon spotting them. “Miss Wood!”

Draco looked at Granger curiously, she just shook her head at him before mimicking the approaching woman’s smile.

"Susan!" Granger exclaimed. "How many times do I have to tell you to call me Hermione?"

Closing the distance between them, Susan responded, "I suppose now that the house business is all settled, I can switch to 'Hermione.' And who's this?" She eyed Draco with a hint of calculation.

"I'm Draco, Hermione's friend."

"He's visiting for a few weeks. Draco, this is Susan. She's the one who sold me the house," Granger clarified.

"Such a pleasure to meet you, Susan," he offered in a smooth, charming tone.

"Oh, the pleasure's mine," Susan responded, a teasing smile gracing her lips. "My, my, you're quite the handsome one. Maybe I should consider moving to England." A laugh escaped her as she exchanged a knowing look with Granger, whose responding laughter sounded somewhat forced, her smile wavering into a grimace.

“I would love to stay and catch up but Draco and I are actually in a bit of a rush.” Granger said apologetically.

“No worries, Hermione! I hope you have a pleasant visit, Draco, I’m sure I’ll see you guys again soon.” She said as she patted Draco’s arm and continued past them.

With Susan out of the aisle, Draco turned to Granger.

“So, Hermione Wood? Have you been harboring a little crush on Oliver Wood all these years?” He whispered like they were discussing something scandalous.

She just huffed in response, “No, I panicked when I was asked for my last name and now I’m stuck with it.”

After a silent journey through the store, they eventually found themselves at the checkout counter. Draco's selections included the apples, a pack of co*ke cans, and a bag of gummy worms, which he intended to replace those he had already consumed. With a deliberate separation, he placed his items on the moving belt, while Granger arranged her own belongings just behind his.

As Draco positioned himself near the cashier, he observed Granger lingering behind, a mischievous glint dancing in her eyes. The cashier efficiently scanned his trio of items before Granger nudged her pile closer, prompting the cashier to scan her items alongside his.

Casting her a reproachful glare, Draco remained in place as she sidled up beside him. With the scanning complete, he settled the bill for both their purchases. Collecting his change and their bags, the two exited the store.

Draco was annoyed that she would force him to pay for her groceries but was determined not to let his irritation show–he didn’t want her to feel like she was getting under his skin. He decided to ignore it and begin a different conversation as they walked.

“Wizards should really consider adopting paper money. Carrying coins is immensely bothersome and inefficient. Although, Muggle do have the smaller coins. What do people even do with their spare change?” He asked, following Granger to her car nearby.

She sighed, “Typically, they put their spare change into piggy banks, allowing it to accumulate over time. My parents used to do it as a way to save up extra money for vacations.”

As they arrived at her car, Draco's thoughts raced.

Piggy banks? The term sparked confusion within him. Pigs were relatively intelligent farm animals, but the notion that they were involved in banking struck him as peculiar. Goblins were known for their financial prowess, but they were creatures, not animals.

“Wait, Muggles have pigs running banks?” He queried incredulously, a perplexed expression creasing his features.

Granger's face displayed a moment of frozen disbelief before she burst into an almost melodic fit of laughter. Draco watched, his annoyance growing. She found his confusion amusing, and the way she laughed so freely only fueled his irritation. She was doubled over, clutching her sides and leaning against her car for support.

Deciding to use the opportunity to focus on something else, Draco opened the car door and placed the bags he carried onto the backseat. She did the same and her laughter gradually subsided. She managed to compose herself, closing the car door and taking a deep breath to regain her composure.

“I’m so sorry, Draco.” She said, her mouth twitching as she fought her amusem*nt, “No, pigs are not involved in banking. Piggy banks are just containers for storing loose change.”

“Well the name doesn’t make sense.” He grumbled, feeling foolish again.

“I’m going to the liquor store, you coming with?”

He just nodded.

Granger had picked out four expensive bottles of wine, and as they approached the checkout counter, Draco couldn't shake the suspicion that he would once again be footing the bill.

The same man from the day before was manning the counter. “I see you found Hermione,” he commented, a knowing glint in his eyes.

“I did, thanks to you. Without your directions I would have been wandering the forest for days.” Draco joked, casting a smug look at Granger who was looking at the man with barely concealed anger in her eyes.

She placed the bottles on the counter and moved away, making it quite clear that the responsibility for payment fell onto him.

“Hermione, you must have been quite shocked by his unexpected arrival,” the man continued, oblivious to the tension between them.

"Oh, I was more than surprised," she replied, her tone seemingly light but laced with underlying irritation. The daggers he felt in the back of his head confirmed her true feelings.

“Can I see your ID?” Jim asked, addressing Draco.

Draco's throat went dry. He hadn’t been asked for his ID yesterday and he knew the name on it would send Granger into a fit. He pulled his forged license out of his wallet, silently begging Jim wouldn’t say anything.

Jim looked at it briefly and handed it back, “That’ll be $203.67, Mr. Granger.”

Draco’s heart stopped. He fumbled in his wallet and handed the man the money. Draco waited for the flash of green as Granger AK-ed him, but it didn’t come.

When Jim handed him the change, Draco quickly grabbed the bags, his steps hurried as he navigated past Granger and out of the store's entrance. Ignoring the palpable waves of anger radiating from her, he kept a brisk pace, retracing his steps to her parked car. Depositing the bags in the backseat, he straightened up, only to find Granger on the opposite side of the vehicle, her hands firmly planted on the roof as though she were contemplating vaulting over and throttling him.

“Get in the car,” her voice was remarkably composed.

He eyed her warily. “No, thank you.”

As Draco stood there, Granger's patience appeared to wear thin. Her brow furrowed, and before he could protest further, she cast a wandless Muffliato. It was like the world around them dulled, soundless except for their own voices.

She leaned forward slightly, her tone seething yet controlled, “Get in the damn car, Draco.”

He raised a brow, feigning nonchalance, though the magic she had just performed did unnerve him a bit. “What if I don't feel like it?”

Her eyes flashed with irritation, her voice still a harsh whisper, “Don't play games with me. You know you have no choice here. Get in or I will jump over this car and strangle you in front of the Muggles.”

“You wouldn’t.”

She just leveled him with a look that dared him to challenge her.

Draco sighed, relenting, and climbed in, deliberately keeping a composed expression. Granger slipped into the driver's seat, sitting still before she turned to him, her voice venomous, “Why is your last name Granger?”

“I promise you, I didn’t choose the name.” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“Then who did?"

“I can’t tell you.”

“How convenient.” She huffed, her annoyance unwavering.

Draco turned to face her directly, his eyes carrying a hint of desperation. “Granger, I promise I didn’t choose it. It was a joke and I was just as upset about it as you are, don’t take it out on me.”

She growled in frustration, “Why is everything so complicated with you? I was enjoying my solitude and you just had to come and ruin it. I know you’re upset about everything but don’t you realize that I’ve done it all out of desperation? Do you think I wanted to do all the things I did? I did them because I had to.”

“Listen, Granger,” He was exhausted, “It’s only temporary. You only have to deal with me for eleven days and then I’ll be out of the country and won’t return. I genuinely meant it when I said all I want is to enjoy my holiday.”

“Promise me.”

“What?”

“Promise me that you’re not here to ruin everything for me. Promise that after next Friday I won’t see you again.” Her eyes bore into his, an urgency underlying her words.

“If I promise you, will you stop treating me so poorly? I know you’re annoyed at the situation but you don’t have to act like I’ve ruined your life when all I’m asking is for help navigating the Muggle world. I will stop taunting you over the things you had to do as long as you don’t try to erase my memories again.”

“Fine.” She conceded.

“Then I promise you that I’m not here to ruin everything for you. And I promise that after next Friday you will never see me again.”

Chapter 10: dear reader

Chapter Text

Never take advice from someone who's falling apart

So I wander through these nights
I prefer hiding in plain sight
My fourth drink in my hand
These desperate prayers of a cursed man
Spilling out to you for free
But darling, darling, please
You wouldn't take my word for it
If you knew who was talking

dear reader - taylor swift

With the finality of his promise hanging in the air, Granger seemed to relax slightly, her shoulders easing as the tension dissipated.

“Has anyone ever told you how scary you are when you’re angry?” Draco asked, his weary gaze locked onto her.

Granger’s mouth twitched, “I don’t get angry all that much, so no.”

“I thought you were going to AK me in the liquor store, it would have been very embarrassing to die that way.”

“I contemplated it.” She said seriously.

He inclined his head, sweeping his hair behind his ear, mirroring the gesture his father often used with an air of elegance. “It’s a rare and refined skill.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“I remember a certain someone being called an insufferable know-it-all one time.”

She rolled her eyes, “Snape was a wanker, he may have been instrumental in the death of Riddle but that doesn’t excuse him bullying children.”

“Speaking ill of the dead?”

“Oh, come off it.”

“The brooding, the glaring, the general better-than-thou attitude,” she replied, a mischievous smirk on her lips.

“I do not brood .” He grumbled, crossing his arms and looking out the rain streaked passenger window.

He could feel her eyes on him as she let out an incredulous laugh.

“What?” He snapped, looking at her.

“You’re literally brooding right now.”

“Okay, let’s go.” He reached for the seatbelt, swiftly clicking it in place.

“It’s been an eventful afternoon, I think we can call it a day.”

“What are your plans for the rest of the day?”

“Nothing exciting, I’m just gonna sit at home and make dinner.” She said it with such forced nonchalance, like she was trying to convince him it was going to be boring.

“I did pay for the groceries, don’t you think it would be courteous to at least invite me over for dinner?” He smirked at her as she gripped the steering wheel.

She just looked at him, expressionless, before she sighed and put her own seatbelt on. “Fine.” She conceded as she slid the keys in the ignition, starting the car.

She pulled out of her spot in the lot and started making her way towards the main road. With the threat of Granger throttling him out of the way, he noticed that the scent of lavender, lemongrass and parchment that followed her was permeating through the car. The scent reminded him of their stifled interactions in the Ministry but he tried to cast those memories aside, immediately feeling the suffocating air of their empty offices.

The silence in the car made him uncomfortable, he hadn’t driven without the ambience of music since he discovered how to use the radio. He reached for her car radio, turning it on and flipping through the stations.

“What are you doing?” She asked, eyes darting to his hand as he pressed buttons.

“Turning on some music.” He responded, finally finding the station he approved of.

As the music filled the car and miles passed, Draco turned his attention from the window to Granger. Her body seemed to settle into a more comfortable posture, a subtle ease replacing the usual tension. The sleeves of her black sweater, slightly oversized, covered part of her hands as they rested on the steering wheel. The rain had tamed her curls, sculpting them into orderly ringlets that gracefully trailed down her back. The subtle frown lines that often characterized her expressions at the Ministry were now absent, replaced by lips that curved upward, carrying an aura of contentment.

He shifted his gaze, feeling a bit odd fixating on her while she was driving. He instead watched the scenery as they passed, appreciating the beauty of the large pine trees as they passed through the forest that surrounded Granger’s home. His mood was only boosted as he recognized the songs playing softly in the background.

When they arrived at the house, the rain was still falling, the clouds casting a blue hue over the exterior of Granger’s home. They exited the car and grabbed the bags out of the back, hurriedly making their way into the house. In the safety of the house she cast a wandless drying charm on both of them.

“Thank you.” He followed her to the kitchen, attempting to ignore his internal admiration at her affinity for wandless magic.

She responded with a simple hum, placing her bags on the island. He mimicked her actions, taking in the kitchen in the daylight. It was relatively larger than the kitchens in both of their flats back in England, the room was the opposite of the rest of the house’s interior– the wood of the cabinets was painted dark green while the tiles of the backsplash were black. The white countertops countered the room's darker tones, providing a sense of balance.

Unloading the bags in unison, Draco's attention was caught by the sizable metal cabinet embedded in the wall.

“Is that a refudger?”

She paused her movements, a perplexed expression crossing her features. “What?”

He pointed at the metal cabinet. Her eyes followed his gesture, and a grin broke across her face. “Did you pass Muggle Studies?”

Letting out a faint huff, Draco continued to unload the items from the bag, muttering, "Maybe."

“It’s called a refrigerator, or a fridge for short.”

“It keeps things cold, right?”

“Yes, there’s a section in it that keeps things frozen called a freezer.”

With all the items now on the counter, Granger initiated the process of putting them away in the refrigerator and the cupboard adjoining the kitchen.

He watched, a sense of uselessness settling over him as he stood with his hands tucked into his pockets. Drifting to the other side of the kitchen, he observed her movements, his gaze falling to the tea kettle perched on the stovetop. He had never made his own tea, even at his flat he would call Mipsy when he wanted tea but it was so simple, if he failed at boiling water and putting a teabag in a cup he was truly hopeless. Taking a deep breath, he picked up the kettle and moved to the sink, filling it with water.

She faced away from him, her head shaking slightly in response.

Returning to the stove, he gingerly set the kettle down and assessed the knobs, tentatively turning one as it appeared to be the logical choice to ignite the flame. Nothing happened. Frowning, he fiddled with the knob once more, but still no flame was produced.

“Do you need help?”

“No.”

He pressed the knob inward as he twisted it this time, a gratifying click resonating as the fire finally ignited. With the kettle being heated up, he turned his attention to the cabinets, opening a few before he found teacups next to the box of teabags. His mind flitted to the mugs Theo had found in her flat, the ‘Boss Bitch’ mug taunting him even when he was halfway across the globe.

He took out two teabags from the box and put one in each cup, resting them by the stove.

Granger had finished putting everything away and was watching him as she leaned against the kitchen island, an amused look lighting up her face.

“I’m gonna go change, are you okay to finish this without my supervision?”

“Of course, Granger. I can make tea unattended.” He responded stubbornly, “How do you take your tea?”

“Splash of milk and a spoonful of honey.” She said as she walked towards the staircase, disappearing upstairs.

Left to his own devices, he retrieved the milk from the refrigerator and rummaged around the cupboard, locating a bag of sugar and a bottle of honey. The kettle whistled and he poured the boiling water into the cups, allowing it to seep for a few minutes.

He spent the time looking outside the kitchen window, admiring the panoramic view he hadn’t been able to observe the night before in his drunken haze. The back of the house had a small porch with stairs that led to a few yards of grass before the short wooden posts that bordered the cliff’s edge. The ocean was beyond it, forested cliffs stretched both ways and he was stunned by how beautiful it was. The ocean breeze rustled the tall pine trees that were covered in a light fog. Draco felt a pang of envy at the seclusion and beauty of the house. It was Slytherin green, for Merlin’s sake, it was like all his needs in a house had been manifested.

He tore his gaze away, returning to his task of tea, making Granger’s tea to her liking and adding an ungodly amount of milk and sugar to his own. He carried the cups to the living room, setting hers down on the side table she had used the night before. He sat on the loveseat, sipping the simmering tea and placing it on his own table. He was pleased with himself for completing the task the Muggle way. He could have used magic to do everything for him but doing all of the steps himself was more satisfying.

Granger came down the stairs, her jumper traded for a thin black shirt. She paused when she spotted the tea but she continued to the couch, cautiously testing the drink with a tentative sip after she sat. His eyes followed her every move. Her reaction seemed approving as she took a longer drink. Draco felt another surge of pleasure with the subtle validation.

“I have some questions.” She began cautiously, her cup landing gently on the table as she looked at him.

“About what?”

“Last night you said you drove here, when did you learn how to drive?”

He contemplated lying but he knew she would see right through his lies, “A few days ago.”

“Did you take classes?”

“Not exactly," he drawled. "My approach was rather... hands on."

She had a calculating look in her eye as she looked at him, “What do you mean by that?”

Draco knew that prolonging the conversation with evasion would be useless. “I read a guide on how to drive, rented a car, and learned as I went.” The look she gave him in response was angry and he immediately became defensive, “I’m a good driver, I had over two thousand miles to get the hang of it.”

“Two thousand miles? Where did you come from?” Her anger was melding with suspicion.

“Tennessee.”

“Why did you choose Tennessee as your starting point?”

“It’s where you flew in.” He answered honestly.

“And how do you know that?”

“I can’t say.”

She met his eyes, her eyes narrowed while he just raised an eyebrow, challenging her to argue with him.

With a frustrated growl, she relented, “Okay, fine, don’t tell me. I just want to know how you found me so I can make sure other people can’t do the same.”

“The person who helped me is sworn to secrecy and won’t be divulging any information with anyone else.” He understood her concern and decided assuring her wouldn’t hurt anyone, “Even if someone was able to follow the same trail he found, the spell I used to track you is very obscure and a select few people would know it. They would have to be an expert in Legilimency to even have the opportunity to come across it.”

“That’s what that was?” There was a sharp edge to her voice. “It was very invasive.”

The memory of the cold creeping through the connection rushed to the forefront of his mind. “You didn’t have to Occlude me out.” He snapped at her.

“You’ve lost the plot.” She scoffed, incredulous. “You can’t actually blame me when you decided to track me down and used that spell to do it. You invaded my mind and expected me not to defend myself?”

“You could’ve just cast Finite and it would have ended,” his voice became a sneer, his anger rushing back to him, “Instead I was stuck there, in the cold with them, I couldn’t even move-” He cut himself off, looking away and clenching his jaw to stop himself from any further outburst.

The room was silent for a few moments before she began talking in a softer voice, the tone familiar to him, “I’m sorry if that triggered something for you but how could I have known that Finite would end it? I just did whatever I thought would protect me.”

“Stop that.” He growled, meeting her eyes again.

“There’s a difference between pity and genuine concern and at some point you need to start understanding that.” She leveled him with a serious look. “I’m gonna go make dinner.”

With that declaration, she stood up and headed for the kitchen, her teacup in hand.

He sat alone in the living room, embarrassment creeping in after his admission of how much the Occlusion had affected him. She obviously thought he was pathetic for having a reaction to it. Her claim of having genuine concern was laughable–to her he was just the reformed Death Eater in desperate need of saving. It was the reason why she altered everyone’s opinion of him when she cast the compulsion. If she was actually concerned for him she wouldn’t have sat idly as Potter and Weasley treated him terribly. She may have defended him in court and gone to the Aurors multiple times and demanded they stop questioning him over useless things but that was her Gryffindor coming through, she was blinded by her sense of righteousness. Even if she didn’t pity him, he didn’t deserve her concern. He had put himself in the position he was in with the decisions he made.

His original plan to make Granger return with him and fix everything in the wizarding world was abandoned due to his newfound understanding of why she would want to escape. He had decided to blackmail her into spending time with him specifically so he could have assistance with experiencing Muggle culture while also getting to tease her along the way. He couldn’t succeed in convincing her to undo her compulsion but he could get a rise out of her for the next few days as a form of reparations.

The last thing he wanted out of this was to discuss his lingering trauma from the War. He did enough ruminating in his own time and after he left he would have years to do it without the influence of Granger. He didn’t know how many more opportunities he would have to enjoy feeling freedom in a place where he wasn’t recognized for his past beliefs and actions. He refused to let himself fall into the trap of self pity because as soon as he relented, he would be consumed.

Making the decision to let his anger towards her Occlusion go, he looked around the living room in search of something to occupy his time. Granger was busy in the kitchen, the sounds of pots clinking and the quiet rustling as she moved around the space filling the air. He longed for a television, but the room only had the sparse built-in shelves and fireplace.

Choosing to explore the limited book collection, he rose from the couch, approaching the shelves adorned with titles that were foreign to him. Picking up one after the other, he read the back-cover summaries. Among them, 'Pride and Prejudice' caught his interest. He retrieved the well-worn copy and returned to his seat with a sigh.

Chapter 11: epiphany

Chapter Text

And some things you just can't speak about

Only 20 minutes to sleep
But you dream of some epiphany
Just one single glimpse of relief
To make some sense of what you've seen

With you, I serve
With you, I fall down, down (down)
Watch you breathe in
Watch you breathing out, out

epiphany - taylor swift

When Granger reappeared in the living room, her arms balancing two plates of food, Draco was comfortably lounging on the loveseat, ‘Pride and Prejudice’ in his hands. He had shed his outer sweater, revealing the crisp white button-up that he had rolled up to his elbows. Her raised eyebrows didn't escape his notice as her gaze lingered on his attire, causing a faint smirk to curve his lips.

Recovering quickly, she set one of the plates on her side table before making her way towards him. She handed him the other plate, and he accepted it, momentarily setting aside the book he had been making progress in.

She spoke, her voice holding a touch of apology, "Sorry I don’t have a dining table yet. I haven’t had time to go furniture shopping. Do you want a glass of wine?”

Suppressing the urge to tease her about his supposed suffering due to the lack of a proper table, he simply replied, "Sure."

He didn't have much room to complain, given that back at his flat he typically stood at the kitchen counter, devouring his meals with no regard for Pureblood etiquette – all those habits discarded now that he lived alone. His dining experiences at Granger’s consisted of sitting on the floor, watching television so sitting on a couch, balancing his plate on his legs was something he could manage.

As Granger disappeared again, he looked down at the plate, there was a seared ribeye topped with melting herb butter, mashed potatoes and a vibrant side salad. His stomach grumbled at the site, the chili hours before had been incredible but didn’t fill him up so he was excited to have a more satisfying meal. The simplicity of the meal reminded him of his meals at the Manor and he realized it had been a long time since he had visited his parents. When he was back in London he would reach out to them, he had neglected them for too long.

His thoughts were interrupted by the feeling of eyes on him, his eyes darted around the room before landing on the staircase opposite him, where a fluffy orange cat regarded him with a discerning stare through the railing. He recognized the cat from their days at Hogwarts; he knew it belonged to Granger. Memories surfaced of the cat dashing through the castle during their third year, forever in pursuit of Weasley’s pet rat.

The stare off between Draco and the cat was abruptly broken by Granger's return. She placed a glass of red wine on his side table, near the book he had been reading. Her gaze lingered on the book for a moment before she shifted her attention, taking her seat on the couch and exchanging her glass for her plate.

“I apologize for my outburst earlier.”

“You don’t need to apologize, Malfoy.”

As they both began to eat, a shared quiet settled between them. The clinking of silverware against porcelain punctuated the silence and Draco found himself genuinely enjoying the food. The steak was cooked perfectly, the herb butter elevating the taste and he quickly ate half of everything, barely breaking to breathe in between bites.

Granger raised an eyebrow, watching him as he devoured the food, “Is it as good as that chili you were raving about earlier?”

He schooled his expression, swallowing before he responded, “It’s adequate.”

She rolled her eyes, turning her attention to cutting her steak, “How does it compare to the other Muggle food you’ve had?”

His voice was low and teasing, “Fishing for compliments, Granger? I would’ve thought you had more tact than that.”

“No, I’m just wondering what Muggle foods you’ve had.”

“Well I’ve had some boring food at a restaurant in Paris, a Souvlaki wrap at Dionysus, and chili at Harper’s.” He recited the list, distracted as he tried to scoop up some of the potatoes onto his fork.

“That’s it?” Her voice was tinged with concern, “And when the hell did you go to Dionysus?”

He halted his movements, realizing he had unintentionally exposed his presence at her flat. “Yes, that’s it. Rick gave me a bunch of free snacks at the gas station so I haven’t really needed to stop for a proper meal.” He intentionally ignored the second question, hoping she would drop it.

“There’s so many things to unpack here.” She set her silverware down on the plate, looking at him with a mixture of disbelief and annoyance, “Who’s Rick and why were you at Dionysus?”

“Rick is a Muggle gas station worker. He wanted me to have proper road trip snacks.”

“Why were you at Dionysus?”

“I was in the area.”

“Quit with the evasive answers. Were you at my flat?” Her voice held the threatening undertone again.

“Yes. After everyone’s memory was changed and no one believed me, I went to your flat and found the note you left for Potter and the Weasel.”

Her posture stiffened, “You read it?” he merely nodded in response. “I guess that explains how you know so much about what I did.” Her lips turned downward as she looked away and speared the salad with her fork.

“I left the note and keys where they were so they won’t have a problem finding it when they come around.” he assured her.

She didn’t respond, instead the two sat and ate their meals in silence.

In the silence, his thoughts were racing. He had been so blinded by his anger when he went to her flat he hadn't even considered the idea of not reading the note addressed to the other members of the Golden Trio. He could see that it made her uncomfortable that he had read the contents of the note but she had knowingly pulled him into the scheme so he had a right to find out why she left. But even as he internally justified his reasoning, he felt a flash of guilt. He pushed it aside, reminding himself that she had meddled in his life due to her unwavering pity towards him.

There’s a difference between pity and genuine concern and at some point you need to start understanding that.

His mental battle was interrupted as Granger set her plate down on the side table and picked up her wine glass. He had finished his food as well and imitated her actions, finally sipping the wine she had given him. Its robust, earthy flavor was a welcome contrast to the overly sweet white Muggle wine Pansy had once insisted he try in Paris.

Breaking the silence, he ventured, “You’ve asked me a lot of questions today, can I ask you one?”

“It depends on the question.” She was short with her response, the irritation towards his invasion of privacy apparent.

“Just keep in mind that you won’t see me ever again after I leave. I have no reason to repeat anything you tell me to anyone, it’s just between you and I.” He needed her honesty in answering the question he had in mind, so he spoke with complete sincerity.

“Okay, what’s the question?”

“Why did you leave?”

“You read my note so you should know.” She snapped, eyes focused on the glass balanced between her fingers.

“Your note was very vague. I’m being serious about my silence on the matter. I’ll take a Wand Oath if it makes you feel more comfortable telling me.”

“Why do you care so much?”

With a sigh, he set his wine glass down. “I’m trying to understand why you would take such drastic measures. We’re going to be spending the next ten days together and it’s hard for me to get past the things you did without the context of why it was all so necessary. If you tell me why then I’ll stop bothering you about it.”

After a moment's contemplation, she finally spoke, “It’s complicated.”

“I’m sure I could keep up.”

She took a long drink of her wine before she began speaking, “My entire childhood was stolen by a powerful wizard who decided he would have children fight a war for him. I was used for my intelligence and compassion, I sacrificed a normal life because it was the right thing to do. Dumbledore knew I would never leave Harry to fight alone and he used that to his advantage, giving me the illusion of choice when really there was none.” A bitter chuckle escaped her lips. “And then he went and died , leaving us with almost no information or support in fighting Riddle. I went through so many things that a child should never have to be subjected to all to finish what Dumbledore started. And when it was over, everyone wanted to move forward, to forget. I tried so hard to move on but I can’t.”

Her eyes dulled, the haunted look settling in. “Harry and Ron don’t understand where I’m coming from. I can't draft Werewolf legislation without seeing Lupin's face, without thinking of his son he left behind. I can't forget Lavender's eyes as she bled out under Greyback during that final battle. Every time I sleep I see everyone who died, every decision I was forced to make, the torture I endured.” Her voice faltered, a lump forming in her throat. “It’s so easy for Harry and Ron to move on, they have so much Gryffindor in them they can just accept what happened and forget it. I sacrificed my entire life for this fight and the Ministry threw some galleons and a prestigious position at me like that would repair the ruins of my life. I don’t want fame, I want to have a life where I’m not constantly reminded of the atrocities I had to experience. Every time I told Harry and Ron the way I feel they would try to talk me out of moving away or quitting my job, they didn't understand. I’ve tried to leave before and they had an intervention, demanding I stay. I have ended things with Ron a dozen times but he doesn’t take me seriously, claiming I’m trying to self sabotage and dismissing any reasons I give him. I had to do those things so they couldn’t stop me.”

Her words lingered in the air, the weight of her burden settling on Draco’s mind. He had so many preconceived notions that were shattered with her explanation and so much of what she confessed was so close to his own feelings and experiences that he was stunned.

Watching her finish off the wine, he sensed the vulnerability underlying her confession. “I understand. I know that I was on the other side of the War–the wrong side–but I was also groomed to serve someone who couldn’t fight his own battles. I have so much pent up anger about everything I was forced to witness and do, I don’t think I’ll ever move on from it. So, even though it may not mean much, I do understand why you did those things.” His words were soft, almost introspective, as he swirled the liquid in his glass.

“That’s why I tried to befriend you.”

Her admission caught him off guard, his eyes snapping up to meet hers. “What?”

“I could tell you were as affected by the War as I was. I thought it would be nice to have a friend who wasn’t just trivializing the things that happened and could actually understand why I was still so angry.” A wistful smile graced her lips.

He laughed without humor, “I’m sure Potter and the Weasel would have loved that.”

“I wouldn’t have cared what they thought about us being friends.” She said stubbornly.

He paused to observe her. She was reclined on the couch, wine glass perched in her hand, and legs crossed. She had a determined expression on her face, devoid of any hint of sarcasm or manipulation.

Before he could reply, a shrill ring pierced the air, causing him to grimace. Retrieving his mobile phone from his back pocket, he mumbled an apology while she regarded him with an intrigued gaze.

“Hello?” He answered, a tinge of annoyance in his voice.

“You still alive?” Blaise's voice came through, dripping with amusem*nt.

“What do you want?” He hissed.

“I heard about your exciting morning with Granger.”

“I’m with her now so I would appreciate it if you would f*ck off.”

“Oooh, what are you guys doing?”

“It’s none of your business.”

“Come on, I’m so bored, Theo’s busy working today. I need some excitement, and you're my only hope.”

“Go bother someone else.”

“Did she find out about the whole last name situation yet?”

“Yes and she almost killed me thanks to you.” He cast a wary glance at Granger, who raised an intrigued eyebrow.

Blaise's laughter echoed through the phone. “Merlin, how did she find out?”

“I told you I’m with her so I’m not entertaining this. I’m going to go back to enjoying my dinner.” The weight of Granger's gaze and the fact that she could hear his responses made him uneasy, fearing she might discover the identity of the caller.

“She tried to Obliviate you and now you guys are all cozy having dinner together? You’ve got it bad.”

“Goodbye, and if you call again, I'll block your number.” He remembered Pansy using that threat before, though he wasn't entirely sure how to carry it out. Still, the warning should suffice to deter further calls.

He swiftly ended the call, the tension of the previous conversation dissipating with the interruption.

“Who was that?” She asked curiously.

“A friend.” He answered begrudgingly, contemplating if he would even consider Blaise a friend given the extent of his meddling.

“The same friend who chose your Muggle last name, I’m assuming.”

He nodded, “He’s an arsehole.”

She merely hummed, her expression shifting as if connecting a few dots. He braced himself for her potential revelation of the caller's identity, but instead, she rose from her seat, gathering her plate and wine glass.

“Are you ready to call it a night?”

“Yeah.”

They moved through the kitchen in a comfortable silence, piling their plates in the sink. He knew that the conversation had shifted something between them. He was still angry with her for interfering with his life but it had morphed from an overwhelming boiling rage to a minor annoyance. Granger wasn’t looking at him sideways with barely concealed annoyance or suspicion, instead she had the content look reminiscent of the serene look he had glimpsed on her face while she drove earlier.

“I put your things from the store away here, I wasn’t sure if you had a fridge wherever you’re staying.” She interrupted their silence as he moved back to the living room to put his discarded sweater back on.

“Oh, yeah. I’m not sure if the hotel has a fridge.” He tried to imagine the hotel room, scouring his memory for any hint of a fridge's presence.

“You can leave your drinks in the fridge here since we will probably spend a good amount of time here.” She said casually, “They should be cold by now, do you want to take one with you?”

He nodded, watching her reach into the fridge and retrieve a red can. He hadn’t drunk from a can before so when she handed it to him and headed for the door, he followed while investigating the drink’s mechanics.

The sun had set sometime while she was cooking, casting a chill that the constant sea breeze coming from the cliff’s edge only amplified. The sky, visible above the clearing that encompassed her home, was adorned with clouds, allowing patches of moonlight and stars to gleam through. He wondered how the sky would appear on a cloudless night but since his arrival, it seemed that the cover of rainclouds was constant.

The car ride was pleasantly quiet, the forest passing them felt more sinister in the night, it reminded him of the Forbidden Forest. The radio had resumed as soon as the car started so the quiet hum of music kept his mind from racing through the events of the night. When they approached the town square he pointed out where his car was parked, Granger following his directions and parking in the spot next to his.

She finally broke the quiet, her gaze turning toward him.“When you’re awake tomorrow you can just come over.”

“Okay, what are we doing tomorrow?”

A playful smirk crept onto her lips. “You’ll see.”

“As long as it doesn’t involve an aeroplane.” He would rather take the Dark Mark again than be stuck in that metal tube again.

“No aeroplanes.” She promised.

Unbuckling his seatbelt, he picked up his co*ke from the cup holder, and as he stepped out of the car, he inclined his head so he could look at Granger’s small form in the driver’s seat.

“Good night, Granger.”

“See you tomorrow.”

In the darkness of the hotel room as he lay in bed, he finally let his mind race.

He had started the day being furious with Granger over the Obliviation attempt and ended it with some semblance of understanding. He couldn’t completely excuse everything she had done but knowing how stubborn Potter and Weasley were based on his attempts at explaining the Granger situation, he could understand how she would have resorted to such extensive actions.

Every time he thought of his childhood he would become irrationally angry, as an adult he could recognize the ways he had been manipulated by adults to become a soldier for the Dark Lord. He hated all of them for not allowing him to make his own decisions, the only people he had forgiven were his parents.

But Dumbledore – Dumbledore remained the figure he harbored the most resentment for. The old man had known Draco would falter at that moment in the Astronomy Tower well before Draco had even solidified his plans on how he would kill the man, yet instead of extending a hand of assistance or redemption before it was too late, he had left Draco to navigate his torment alone during that tumultuous sixth year. He knew that the Dark Lord was taking over the Manor and punishing Draco for his father’s failure and did nothing. Knowing that Granger could see through Dumbledore’s manipulations was a comfort, he had assumed she would hail him the real hero of the War.

With all of these revelations he was beginning to unravel who Granger was beneath the facade she put up. He had glimpsed fragments of her fiery temperament when she had thrown that punch and when she advocated for the rights of magical creatures. What was becoming evident now was that her anger was an intrinsic part of her, an ever-present simmering behind her gaze, ready to be unleashed at any moment.

One aspect of the day still eluded his understanding: her confession regarding her motives for getting close to him. Her words were sincere but Draco doubted she would have been content having him as a friend. He fought against them, he bullied them throughout school and never showed remorse for accepting the close minded views he was fed from a young age. How could someone as morally upright as Granger ever embrace him as an ally, having witnessed his years of villainy?

His thoughts circled and churned, ultimately carrying him into a restless slumber.

The halls of Malfoy Manor were cold and barren, screaming reverberated through the space as Draco made his way towards the source. He came upon a door, half-ajar, and dread enveloped him as he opened it. Before him, helpless Muggles were restrained, their faces contorted in agony. The air was heavy with their anguished cries, a symphony of pain that clawed at his sanity. Their tormentors were masked Death Eaters, the high pitched laughter and jeers of Aunt Bella piercing his eardrums.

Draco's breath grew shallow, his body paralyzed with the horror of what he was witnessing unfold in the childhood home he had once felt safe in. He tried to look away, to escape, but his feet remained rooted to the spot.

A twisted figure manifested from the shadows, the Dark Lord, his crimson eyes gleaming with sad*stic pleasure. The Dark Lord's voice was a sinister whisper as his gaze locked with Draco’s.

“Your turn, Draco.”

His eyes snapped open, his body jolting upright in bed. He brought a trembling hand to his face, feeling the moisture of his tears mix with the sweat on his skin.

The vulnerability of the moment gripped him, the weight of his past actions and the horrors he had witnessed during the War crashing down upon him. He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, trying to banish the haunting images. But he couldn't escape the rawness of his emotions, the guilt and despair that had festered within him for years.

In the solitude of the hotel room, Draco Malfoy wept, not for the Death Eater he had once been, but for the broken child he had become in the midst of a war he never wanted to participate in.

Chapter 12: nothing new

Chapter Text

I've had too much to drink tonight

And I know it's sad, but this is what I think about

And I wake up in the middle of the night

It's like I can feel time moving

How can a person know everything at 18 but nothing at 22?

nothing new - taylor swift

Draco sat in his bed for hours, his mind unable to move on from the memory brought up by his nightmare. He could remember everything about the hours he spent in that room, he had the faces of the Muggles memorized.

There were three of them. There was the middle-aged man with brown hair who kept talking about his wife and children waiting for him, the young woman with blonde hair and hazel eyes who gave up fighting after the third Crucio, and the elderly man with white hair who spent his time reciting prayers until Aunt Bella had removed his tongue.

In reality, the Dark Lord hadn’t been there, it was Aunt Bella who had forced him to participate, threatening to report it to the Dark Lord if he didn’t try hard enough. He had Occluded the entire time but their faces and pleading screams were etched in his mind forever. He remembered the tears that streaked their dirt-streaked faces, the bruises that were littered across their bodies, and the pleading looks they gave when he turned his wand on them.

He had been trapped in that room for hours and as soon as he could make his exit, he spent the rest of the night throwing up before attempting to file those memories behind as many mental barriers as he could create so it wouldn’t break him.

The hours of the early morning passed, marked only by the increasing weight of his guilt pressing down on him until he could hardly breathe. When the first light became visible behind the curtains in his hotel room, he reached for his mobile phone, finding Pansy’s name in the contact list.

Pansy had been his biggest support through the War and directly afterwards–Blaise and Theo had been on the outskirts of the War while she was forced to attend most of the Dark Lord’s big events along with her father. She had stayed with him after he took the Dark Mark, holding him through the full body tremors that wracked his body for five days straight due to the Dark magic coursing through his veins. She had stood with him through the trials and only left him when she decided to leave her family and carve her own path away from the wizarding world.

His fingers trembled as he held the phone to his ear, waiting for the call to connect.

“Draco?”

His throat tightened, and he struggled to keep his voice steady. “Pansy.”

“Are you okay?” Her voice was laden with concern.

“Y-yeah, I’m okay. I just had a nightmare, I needed someone to talk to.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” He replied sternly, “I just need a distraction.”

“I hear you’re on some great Muggle adventure, why don’t you tell me about it?”

And so he did, detailing the events of the last few weeks. She would ask him questions as she listened and when she laughed about Granger Obliviating him, he found himself laughing along with her. By the time he had caught up to the present, the tension had subsided and he felt comfortable talking about his nightmare.

“It was about the Muggles at the Manor.”

“I see.” He had cried to her over the incident not long after it had happened so she immediately knew what he was referencing. “It’s probably because you’ve been around so many Muggles, your subconscious may have brought it forward. You don’t need to feel bad about things that you had no choice in doing.”

“I could have refused.”

“If you refused, the Dark Lord would have done worse to you and your parents. You know this.”

“But I just stood there, I watched them die.” His guilt was trying to claw its way back to the surface as he spoke.

“You didn’t find those Muggles, you didn’t make the decision to torture them to death, you were in an impossible situation and you did what you had to do to survive. Those deaths are not on you.” Her voice was low and stern.

“I know.”

“Then stop wallowing in self-pity and pull yourself together.”

“I’m trying.” He sighed.

“And cut Granger some slack, I left and didn’t speak to you three dunderheads for months. She probably just needs time to process everything and being too harsh to her is not in your best interest. She’s a powerful witch.” She warned him, her no-nonsense tone continuing.

“I know, like I said, things changed after our conversation last night.”

“Just be careful. You’re there for the next ten days and then you won’t see her again. Don’t get too attached to the idea of being her friend.”

“We’re being civil, ten days with her isn’t going to make us friends.”

After speaking to Pansy, the unease was mostly gone, only a slight feeling of discomfort lingering. He dressed for the day, opting for a thin black turtleneck and dark gray slacks. The weather in Oregon stayed between nineteen and twenty two degrees Celsius, depending on the time of day. Due to the constant rain, he decided to bring his coat with him, draping it over his arm before picking up a few bags of snacks and heading for his car. He didn’t see Granger buy any snacks at the store and he would be damned if he survived only on the gummy worms he knew were still at her house.

He climbed into his car and began the drive to Hermione’s, his excitement mounting as he recalled that she had something planned for them.

Draco shifted uneasily on his feet as the sound of his own knocking echoed through the small alcove that housed Granger’s front door. After a few moments, the front door swung open revealing Granger who looked like she had just emerged from her bed, her hair tied back messily, a few unruly tendrils framing her face where they had escaped during her sleep. She wore what he recognized as Muggle ‘sweatpants’, a garment Blaise was always wearing when lounging, and an oversized crimson red shirt. It looked so different from her prim and proper Ministry wear, his heart jumped at the sight.

“Good morning.” She greeted with a grumpy mutter, though the edges of her lips betrayed a faint hint of a smile. It was a sight he hadn't expected, and for a moment, his unease subsided.

“Morning.” He replied, offering a small, half-smile in return.

She opened the door fully, an invitation for him to follow her inside as she kept grumbling, “Who even wakes up this early?”

He closed the door behind him, “Granger, you do realize it’s ten in the morning, right? It could hardly be considered early.”

“I distinctly remember you coming in late to the Ministry all the time, I assumed you would turn up later.” She walked to the kitchen, Draco following close behind.

“Well I didn’t drink myself to sleep like I usually do back at home so the lack of hangover really helps with waking up at a proper time.” He retorted, avoiding any mention of waking up from a nightmare.

“You didn’t drink when you got back to your hotel last night?”

“No.” He answered simply.

It was something that he hadn’t thought about much but drinking had hardly crossed his mind since he had been sleeping soundly. He would probably start drinking before bed again if he continued to have nightmares but the few nights before–excluding the night of the confrontation–he had been sober and slept through the night with no issues.

“Do you want tea?”

“I’m okay, I’m gonna have a co*ke.”

“What’s the deal with the co*ke?” She grumbled, filling the teapot.

“What do you mean? It’s good.” His voice became defensive as he reached into the fridge and retrieved a can.

“I don’t drink fizzy drinks very often. It’s bad for your teeth.”

Draco leaned against the kitchen island, watching her move around the space as he took a sip from the can. Confusion colored his features. “What do you mean?”

Turning to face him, she sighed with an air of disbelief. “Honestly, Malfoy, have you ever paid attention in Muggle Studies?”

The memory of Professor Burbage flashed in his mind, her body hovering over the dining table in Malfoy Manor as the Death Eaters laughed at something the Dark Lord had said. He could never remember what he said; the Occlusion prevented him from fully recalling it. The memory was a silent haze, except for Burbage’s desperate pleas to Uncle Sev. He couldn't remember the context—where the Dark Lord stood, the purpose of the meeting—only the haunting image of Burbage's twitching form in the aftermath of hours under the Cruciatus. He could remember the way she smelled, the way her clothes were torn, the visceral aftermath, he could remember it all.

He spoke, willing the memory to leave him, for the rising guilt to become dormant again, “I wasn’t allowed to pay attention in Muggle Studies. I asked my father a question about something we had learned in first year and I was given the talk about how I had to be as uninterested as possible during that class or the other Slytherins would report to their parents.”

Her eyebrows lifted at that, an incredulous look settling on her face, “Seriously?” He nodded. When he didn’t elaborate she continued, “Well, Muggles don’t have the same resources for protecting dental health as wizards do so they have to be more careful about eating and drinking sugary things cause they can deteriorate your teeth. My parents were dentists–teeth doctors–so they were a bit more strict about fizzy drinks with me growing up than other parents.”

As she finished explaining, she leaned against the counter across from him, her body relaxed.

“Your parents were teeth doctors?”

“Yes.” A sadness flitted behind her eyes before she swiftly changed the subject, the drowsiness from her sleep seemed to dissipate as they conversed, “Did other Slytherins really report to their parents about other students?”

“Yes, it was mostly the Death Eater’s children. It was always very petty things the first few years like getting good grades in Muggle Studies, talking to anyone who wasn’t a Pureblood, things like that.” He swallowed thickly, “As we got older the repercussions for acting against the Dark Lord’s interests became worse.”

A furrow formed between her eyebrows, thoughts seemingly overtaking her as they faced each other. The whistle of the tea kettle punctuated the moment, pulling her back. Pouring the steaming water into her cup, she resumed the conversation, “I guess that makes sense why you felt the need to coerce me into being your Muggle tour guide.”

“I’ve actually found it quite easy to navigate Muggle America, I can blame most of my confusion on being a foreigner. But getting to annoy you while doing it adds an extra layer of enjoyment.” He smirked, raising his drink to his lips.

Granger shot him a look of annoyance, “You’re insufferable. I could just refuse to help you.”

“We made a deal.” He said sternly, “And I’m good company.”

He waited for her denial but was surprised when she merely rolled her eyes before departing for the living room, her cup of tea in hand.

He followed and noticed a new piece of furniture, “When did you get that?” He asked, eying the coffee table as he passed.

“I transfigured it last night. Not my best work.” She sighed as she settled onto the couch criss-cross with her cup cradled between the hands in her lap.

It was an incredible piece of transfiguration, a heavy wooden coffee table with intricate carvings along the sides. Yet she was claiming it wasn’t her best work. He fought the urge to say something similar out loud as he sat at his usual spot. “What are we doing today?”

She smiled, her eyes dancing, “Oh, you’ll see.”

“Are we driving somewhere?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, I’ll drive.” He said decidedly.

She arched an eyebrow in disbelief. “You just explained to me yesterday that you learned how to drive by winging it and you want me to trust you behind the wheel?”

“I just explained to you yesterday that I have over two thousand miles of experience as well, so yes. This is my holiday and I want to drive.”

A bitter scoff escaped her lips. “You’re such a brat.”

The next few minutes passed in silence, the duo quietly sipping their drinks until Granger excused herself to get ready. The book that had occupied his attention the previous night rested on the side table in the same place he had left it before. Seizing the opportunity, he retrieved it and resumed reading.

He had gotten to the part of ‘Pride and Prejudice’ when the rich newcomers made their entrance at the ball when, at last, she descended the stairs. She was wearing a pair of black jeans and a black tank top with a gray cardigan, her hair was wet from showering and she wore a pair of black trainers.

Standing at the staircase's base, a touch of concern tinged her voice, “Are you sure you don’t want me to drive?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” He placed the book aside and rose from his seat.

They made their way to the car together, Granger’s eyebrows rose as she spotted his black car in the driveway. “You rented a Mercedes?”

“I guess? I just told them I needed to rent a car and this is what they gave me.”

“You know this car costs well over a hundred thousand American dollars, right?” She was stunned as she circled the car, making her way to the passenger side.

“Is that a lot for a car?” The concept of value in the Muggle world remained foreign to him, and he was unaware of how such costs translated into galleons.

She laughed in disbelief as she opened her car door and Draco slipped inside the driver’s seat. As soon as he was inside he realized that she couldn’t sit down due to the pile of snacks he had placed on her seat.

“Oh, sorry, let me move these.” He muttered apologetically, transferring the snacks to the back seat to free up her spot. Curiosity danced in her eyes as she settled into the seat, her amusem*nt barely contained. He felt a touch of embarrassment.

“Why do you have so many snacks in your car?”

“I told you, Rick gave them to me.” He avoided her amused look as he started the car. “So where are we going?”

“Just go North up 101 and I’ll let you know where to go from there. It shouldn’t take us more than half an hour to get there.”

He switched on the radio just as he eased the car out of the driveway. Granger was tense during the first few miles but as they made ground and Draco didn’t drive them off the road she began to relax.

As he drove, he tried to enjoy the passing scenery but his mind kept circling back to his dream. He had tried so hard to file those memories away as far away as possible but now they were at the forefront of his mind, the faces of the Muggles impossible to forget. He turned the radio up, clenching his hands around the steering wheel. He always felt so free driving in the Muggle world but he was reminded that he didn’t deserve to be here at all. He had been afraid of Muggles for so long and was always the first one to ridicule anyone with Muggle heritage.

Every Muggle he had interacted with had been welcoming and nice, always greeting him with a smile, unaware that he had been instrumental in the fight to eradicate them. The guilt he had been able to smother while speaking to Pansy was rising again as his thoughts overtook him.

After a quiet half hour drive they arrived in a town called Seaside. Granger instructed him to turn into a large parking lot that sat in front of a dozen stores all connected in one long building.

“What is this?” Draco asked, his internal monologue overshadowed by his curiosity.

“A shopping center.”

“What are we doing here?”

She rolled her eyes, “Shopping.”

“For what?”

“Well, I need more books to fill my shelves and you need clothes.”

He pulled into a parking spot close to the stores, the lot was mostly empty since it was midday during the week. “What’s wrong with my clothes?” He sneered.

“You look like you’re either a time traveler from the 18th century or going to a business meeting every day. If you’re going to enjoy the Muggle world you should at least look the part.” She met his eyes with a smirk, challenging him to refuse.

She was probably going to make him buy jeans, he internally shuddered at the idea but kept his face neutral, not wanting to expose his aversion. “My wardrobe is sophisticated, I haven’t had any complaints from Muggles yet.”

“You can’t possibly tell me those dress boots are comfortable, Malfoy. You probably have a dozen charms on them just to be able to tolerate them.”

She was right, he had a handful of charms he would cast on them when he put them on in the morning, the leather was cutting into him and his toes were always cramped. “They’re perfectly tolerable.” He lied.

“Well if you’re going to force me to be seen with you in public I refuse to let you dress like that.”

He glared at her, “Fine.” Theo, Blaise, and Pansy were going to be beside themselves if they found out he was going Muggle clothes shopping with Granger.

The pair exited the vehicle and Draco trailed behind Granger as she led the way toward a shop. The sky was interrupted by light gray clouds that held a constant threat of possible rain and from the parking lot he could see a glimpse of a meandering river that cut through the small town.

They entered the bookstore first and Draco was immediately comforted by the familiar spell of fresh parchment. Granger wasted no time; she gravitated towards the shelves with purpose, taking books down from the shelves and reading the back cover as he stood by. Her limited collection was his first exposure to Muggle books and he was itching to see what other kinds of books they were publishing but he denied himself the pleasure of embracing it.

They continued like that for a few minutes before Granger cast him a sideways glance, “Why don’t you go look at some books? It may take me a while.” She cautioned.

He nodded, wandering off on his own. He feigned interest in the shelves, the colorful books mocking him. He shouldn't be here, he reminded himself. He should retreat to London, severing ties with the Muggle world entirely. It wouldn’t take long for them to see through him, to know he once stood by a maniac who wanted all Muggles dead.

The thoughts died as he spotted a section titled ‘Fantasy’. He sauntered toward it, drawn by rows of intriguing titles. His restraint faltered and he picked up a book, falling into its summary with a relinquishing sigh.

Granger reappeared sometime later, her arms full of books. His own collection sprawled on the floor by his feet, he remained engrossed in the narrative of a large novel, consumed by its words.

“Do you need more time?” She asked, breaking him out of his trance.

His gaze lifted, a sheepish smile gracing his lips. “Five more minutes?” He offered, setting the book he held into his growing pile of chosen volumes.

She nodded, the ghost of a smile on her lips as she set her books on the floor with his, turning her attention to the shelves he was browsing.

When they were both done, they struggled to carry the large collection to the cash register. “Why in Merlin’s name don’t they have carts?” He hissed, his arms cramping under the weight of all of the items.

“Most people only buy a few books at a time.”

“At least we didn’t knock any children out.”

She burst into laughter, her face transforming as she gently laid the books on the checkout counter. Taking a moment to observe her, Draco was struck by how naturally she fit into this Muggle world. With her knitted cardigan and her unruly hair, she seemed at home, as if she belonged in this bookstore. He didn’t belong here, he belonged in the desolate halls of the Ministry or his tiny flat in Diagon Alley, passed out on the floor.

He swallowed, setting his books down next to hers as the woman at the counter began scanning everything. When she gave the total, he handed her the money.

“You don’t have to pay, Ma-Draco.” Hermione protested.

“I don’t mind.” He insisted, meeting her suspicious gaze. “Really, Hermione, it’s the least I can do.”

She huffed, yielding to his persistence, and accepted the bags of books as they made their way toward the exit.

"So, why 'Pride and Prejudice'?" Her question pierced the air as they stepped outside.

Draco held the door open for her. "Seemed like the best option."

As she walked past him, her voice was a soft murmur, "It's my favorite book."

"I suppose I'll finish it before diving into one of these." He mused aloud. “Maybe it’ll help me figure you out.”

“You haven’t figured me out yet?”

“No. I keep thinking I have you figured out and then you go and say something that forces me to rethink everything.”

Chapter 13: the great war

Chapter Text

You drew up some good faith treaties

I drew curtains closed, drank my poison all alone

You said I have to trust more freely

But diesel is desire, you were playin' with fire

And maybe it's the past that's talkin'

Screamin' from the crypt

Tellin' me to punish you for things you never did

So I justified it

All that bloodshed, crimson clover

Uh-huh, the bombs were close and

My hand was the one you reached for

All throughout the Great War

the great war - taylor swift

Having stashed their books in the car, Draco trailed Granger to the next store. This one specialized solely in footwear, and upon entering, Granger directed him to the men's section. His eyes scanned the assortment of shoes ranging from trainers to dress shoes. Out of habit, he gravitated towards those resembling the ones he was accustomed to but she shook her head at him, “You wait here, I’ll bring you options.” She pointed at the small bench in the middle of the aisle, urging him to sit down.

“I can pick shoes out myself.” He argued.

“You need comfortable shoes and I’m not letting you walk out of here with more posh, pointed leather shoes.” She didn’t wait for a response, heading for the row of trainers he loathed the most as he glared after her from his spot on the bench.

She finally returned with four different boxes, gesturing for him to take his shoes off. He groaned internally, he understood that complying meant surrendering the magical charm he'd cast on his shoes—a charm that rendered them somewhat tolerable.

He obeyed, feeling awkward as she set the boxes down and pulled out the first pair of trainers. They were black with white trimming and laces and so Muggle. He was curious why Muggles loved trainers so much so he resisted his initial urge to refuse to put the shoes on and instead slipped them on. They were so comfortable, the canvas material of the shoes was forgiving and it felt like he wasn’t even wearing shoes with how light they were, he was stunned.

“Do they fit alright? I had to guess your size.”

“They fit.”

“Lace them up and walk around so you can be sure.” She said, pointing at the untied laces.

He furrowed his eyebrows, “I can’t use my wand.”

She looked down at him from where she was standing, “Okay? Just tie them.”

“How am I supposed to tie them without magic?” He hissed.

“With your hands?” Her confusion was evident.

He had never tied shoes before without the assistance of magic and she was speaking like knowing how to tie laces was common knowledge. “I don’t know how.” He admitted, embarrassment seeping in.

She looked at him with disbelief before an amused smile formed on her face, “I’ll do it then.” She immediately lowered so she was on one knee, leaning forward into his space to tie the shoes.

He had been leaning forward on the edge of the bench so as soon as she was kneeling in front of him, her hair was in his face. The scent of Granger, that soothing blend of lavender and lemongrass, enveloped him. Already feeling embarrassed by his inability to perform such a basic task, her proximity only intensified his discomfort. Having her so close while tying his shoes felt intimate, his heart fluttered at the realization.

He tried to distract from his discomfort, “Merlin, are you trying to smother me with your hair?”

In retaliation, she pulled the laces taut, and he yelped as the shoes constricted around his feet. “Oh, I’m sorry, is that too tight?” She asked sweetly, raising her head to grin at him wickedly. Their faces were mere inches apart, and he noted her smile faltering slightly, as if the reality of their proximity had just sunk in for her.

His eyes traced the contours of her face—the soft curve of her flushed cheeks, the way her lashes cast delicate shadows on her skin, the hint of vulnerability mingling with the mischief in her eyes, the freckle that sat next to her lips.

“It’s fine.” He whispered, attempting to break the tension between them as he looked away.

She looked back down, finishing her task and quickly standing, putting space between them, as though by doing so, she could dispel the palpable electric tension that had begun to crackle in the air.

She cleared her throat as he rose from the bench and took a few steps, “Do you like them?”

He loved them, they were so comfortable and they weren’t the most aesthetically pleasing but they had a classic look to them. He just nodded in response.

“The other trainers I brought are similar so if this size works you can just choose the ones you like and then we can head over to get you some clothes.”

He sat back down as he spoke, “I’ll get them all.”

Her eyebrows rose, “Okay.”

He awkwardly untangled the laces, undoing them before slipping back into his original, miserable shoes. They checked out easily and headed next door to the clothing store. The experience of shopping with Granger was consistent, he would reach for something nice and she would slap his hand away insisting that she would take care of choosing clothing items for him to try on. He trailed behind her, the echoes of their interaction in the shoe store still resonating in his thoughts.

The proximity, the banter—it had all felt charged, intimate even. His heart raced at the memory of her close presence, the playful tug of her laces, the intensity in her eyes. But he couldn't escape the nagging thought that he was reading too much into it, that his own emotions were projecting something that wasn't there.

Amid his internal musings, a flash of blonde hair disrupted his contemplation—an employee stationed at the checkout. His heart lurched within his chest, a familiar knot forming as he took in her features. Hazel eyes met his, and in that fleeting connection, he saw a ghostly resemblance to the Muggle he had once tortured. It was irrational to let his heart race at the mere sight of a stranger when he knew the Muggle that resembled her was dead and gone but he couldn’t control himself. He quickly averted his gaze, staring at the back of Granger’s head as she continued browsing, unaware of his internal battle.

He spoke to distract himself, “How do they tailor things without magic?”

“There are people whose whole job is tailoring clothes by hand and with sewing machines but we can just use tailoring spells on them when we get back to the house.” She said as she picked up another pair of jeans and turned to him, “Okay, I think this will be enough options.” She thrust the pile of clothes she had collected into his arms and led him to the changing rooms.

He just allowed her to guide him into a changing room as she continued speaking, “I’ll wait out here so you can show me things as you try them on.”

“Okay.” He responded quietly, closing the door and locking it.

In the privacy of the confined space, he took a few deliberate breaths, attempting to anchor himself in the present moment, reminding himself of what Pansy had said on the phone earlier. It wasn’t his decision to torture those Muggles, he was in an impossible situation. But the reassurances proved hollow.

As he undressed and began putting on a pair of jeans his mind raced with all of the moments in his life where he could have defected and refused to participate in the cruelty of the Death Eaters. He could have accepted Dumbledore’s half-assed offer of redemption or spoken out about Muggles when he began having second thoughts on the ideology he had been indoctrinated into from his earliest days.

Dressed in the first set of clothes, he emerged from the changing room, his gaze locking with Granger's. Her eyes swept over him, assessing his appearance. "Turn around." She instructed.

“Looking for an excuse to look at my arse?”

Her retort was swift, her glare tinged with annoyance, "Never mind. It looks good, though. I must say, I never thought I'd witness a Malfoy in jeans." The smirk that graced her features was met with an exasperated eye roll from him as he retreated back into the changing room.

He wished he could enjoy the comfortable Muggle clothing he was wearing but as he changed into outfit after outfit, he couldn’t focus, his mind unable to dismiss the uncanny familiarity he had sensed in the Muggle worker's features.

Finally, he adorned the last outfit, his reflection gazing back at him from the mirror. In an instant, his motion stilled as his eyes locked onto a stark reminder—the Dark Mark, blazing on his forearm. He was so distracted he hadn’t realized he had put on a short sleeve shirt. Granger was waiting for him outside and any basis of civility they had formed in the last few hours and previous day would be erased when she saw his arm and remembered who he really was.

He had been genuinely enjoying her company and it was all going to be destroyed with one look. A fleeting thought suggested he could retreat, discard the unfamiliar clothes, and claim they didn't fit. But really he didn’t deserve her civility or friendship or whatever she gave him. He didn’t deserve respect from someone who was so good and refusing to show his mark would be yet another act of cowardice on his part.

With resolve, he steeled himself, his fingers curling around the changing room's door handle. He knew the truth—rejection might be his fate, but he wouldn't hide from it. He opened the door, bracing for her reaction. Her gaze met his, a familiar assessing glint in her eyes. But this time, it lingered, fixating on his arm before resuming its prior course.

"Everything suits you," She said unaffected, "You could probably just choose whatever you like the best."

He opened his mouth to reply, but his words were stifled by the presence of a passing Muggle man, arms laden with clothing. The man's gaze flickered to Draco's arm, a smile lighting up his features. "Nice tattoo, man." He offered casually.

Time seemed to freeze as Draco's senses numbed. Dread gripped him, a sinking sensation that rooted deep in his bones. Granger's gaze shifted to him, a cautious glint in her eyes as the Muggle faded into a different changing room.

Retreat became instinct and he slipped into his own room again, the door closing with a loud thud and a click sounding as he scrambled to get the lock in place.

The man didn’t know what the tattoo meant–the way that the skull and snake branded him in the wizarding world. The guilt reappeared, setting heavily in his throat. The Muggle could never fathom that this mark symbolized his past alignment with hatred for Muggles, a desire to erase them from existence.

Clothing was discarded, each item a reminder of his own wrongdoings, objects he couldn't bear to touch. He tried to steady himself, to calm his frayed nerves as he slipped back into his original attire. But his hands shook as he zipped up his pants, as he put on his shoes, as he faced the mirror, avoiding the eyes that stared back at him.

He emerged from the changing room, his arms full of clothing he no longer felt worthy of as he approached Granger. He refused to meet her eye as he spoke, “I don’t think I’m going to buy anything.”

“Don’t be daft, you should at least get a few things.”

All he wanted was to escape the store, away from the Muggle who had unknowingly praised the mark he despised, away from the Muggle who echoed a ghost from his past. “I’ll get it all then.” It would be the simplest solution, he wouldn’t have to spend more time deciding between items while his guilt kept harassing him.

They made their way to the checkout in silence, Granger's gaze remained steadfast on him, eyebrows knitted with worry. He placed the items on the counter, avoiding the worker’s eye contact, even ignoring her friendly greeting. As she scanned the items, he fixated on the front door, his peripheral vision capturing her presence, he could swear her face contorted into a familiar pleading look.

He clenched his jaw when she read out the total and he handed the amount over, unable to avoid noticing the similarity of her voice along with her looks.

As the cashier packed his purchases into plastic bags, an overwhelming surge of panic engulfed him. He couldn't bear it any longer, couldn't maintain his composure. On a quick pivot, he turned his back on Granger, her voice echoing behind him, calling his name. He stepped into the brisk embrace of the outside air, an urgent need to escape driving him forward.

He raced toward his car, his palms clammy as he grappled with the door handle and scrambled inside. In the muffled quiet of the car his breathing became more desperate, the guilt finally breaking through the surface, consuming him.

He had fooled them all, fooled Granger, made them all think he was allowed to partake in Muggle shopping and food and driving. He had let himself entertain the idea of staying here in Muggle America so he could finally have some peace in his life. A damning truth resided in the depths of his conscience: he was evil. He had stood by and witnessed the lives of countless Muggles extinguished, a passive accomplice to their destruction. He had joked and sneered at Muggleborns for most of his life, ridiculing them for being inferior. He was so angry at himself for indulging in his curiosity and thinking he could get away with waltzing around the Muggle world as if he hadn’t loathed them all for most of his life. He needed to leave, to forget he had ever been here, leave Granger alone and go back to his miserable life. He had to stop feeding into his delusions that he could ever be free of his past choices.

His body quivered, an uncontrollable tremor coursing through him. The edges of his awareness blurred, his mind muddled by the surge of panic. He recognized that he was having a panic attack but was unable to gain control over himself. He just sat there, his head resting against the steering wheel while his chest constricted and his breath came out in guttural rasps.

Unseen by him, Granger discreetly set the bags in the back seat before easing herself back into the passenger seat, her gaze steady upon him. When he noticed her presence, he attempted to breathe slower and mask his face so she wouldn’t see his anguish.

“I need to leave.” He declared, a tremor persisting in his voice.

“Okay, we can go back to the house, we were done shopping anyway.” She responded softly.

“No, I’m going back to London.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ll take you back to your house.” He stated definitively, sidestepping her inquiry and shifting the car into reverse. His hands were shaking and his breath was still coming in short gasps.

She reached for the gear shift, putting it back in park, “Draco, you need to take a deep breath and calm down before you start driving.” Her voice was laden with concern. Hearing his first name on her lips felt foreign, she had only said it when they were in the presence of Muggles and she was playing into their fake friendship.

“I need to leave.” He reiterated, his voice a fragile thread.

“But why?”

"Because I don't belong here!" He exploded, the simmering anger he held towards himself erupting finally. "I have no right to exist in the Muggle world without facing the consequences! Sooner or later, they'll uncover the truth about me, about my words, about my actions." He spit the words out desperately, “I’m rotten and they’re going to realize it and hate me as much as everyone in the wizarding world does.”

“You’re not rotten.” She insisted.

“You don’t know me, you don’t know the things I’ve done.” His voice was low and shaking.

“I don’t know everything but I’ve seen the way you’ve been since sixth year, I saw that you didn’t enjoy the things you had to do. You shouldn’t punish yourself for things that were beyond your control.”

He knew arguing with her would be as unsuccessful as his arguments with Pansy so he changed his tactic, “Look, you want to enjoy your new life alone, I failed at getting you to come back with me and we both know you would rather fail all your NEWTs than have to be my Muggle tour guide so I’m ending our agreement. I’ll take you home and then you won’t see me again.”

Her expression remained steadfast, her eyes holding a determined resolve. "Leaving won't make your guilt disappear," She said, her sincerity echoing in her voice. "And believe it or not, I've enjoyed our time together. I want you to stay, to continue discovering new things, to show yourself that you can embrace something different, something that you haven’t had the opportunity to do without the influence of other people’s opinions and perceptions. Staying here won't erase your past, but it will give you a chance to move on and create your own opinions.”

His heart raced, her words carving through the darkness that had shrouded his thoughts.

“I don’t deserve it.”

“Everyone deserves a chance and considering how much bullsh*t you’ve been put through, I would argue you deserve this more than most.”

The undeniable sincerity in her voice, coupled with the kindness he had unexpectedly encountered in the Muggle world, battled against the self-loathing that had consumed him for so long.

"I'm scared," He admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Scared that I'll never be able to move past what I've done."

“I have the same fear. We had to do things during the War that we should never have been forced to do.” She replied, her voice carrying vulnerability. “I don’t think we’ll ever truly be able to move past those things but we can’t keep punishing ourselves.”

Her words carried a resonance that made him realize she was addressing not only him but herself as well, hinting at her own struggles and self-punishment. Moments passed in silence as his breathing finally slowed and the haze in his mind began to leave as his panic dissipated. After their conversation the night before, he knew that Granger was the only person as affected by the War as him, she would understand his struggles in a way Theo and Blaise couldn’t relate to.

"Okay," He said finally, his voice carrying a mixture of determination and uncertainty. “I'll stay."

Chapter 14: saviour complex

Chapter Text

Baby, you're a vampire

You want blood and I promised

I'm a bad liar

With a savior complex

All the skeletons you hide

Show me yours, and I'll show you mine

saviour complex - pheobe bridgers

With a clear head and a new sense of calm, Draco began speaking, “I apologize for my dramatics, it’s been a very emotional few days.” Granger had been sincere in her support for him during his breakdown but he couldn’t help the embarrassment that he felt as he replayed his reaction in the clothing store.

“You don’t need to apologize. I’m the last person to judge you for acting in any way, I altered hundreds of people’s memories and disappeared just a few weeks ago.” She said matter-of-factly as she clicked her seatbelt into place.

“That was a tad bit dramatic.” He teased, his mouth fighting against a smile as he cast a sideways glance at her.

“We all have our moments.” She shot back, a matching smile forming on her face.

“If by ‘we’ you mean you and I then yes, I’m not sure the sentiment could apply to many other people. I’m afraid we might have the market cornered on reacting irrationally.” He mused, fastening his own seatbelt. “Where to next?”

“The house, unless you want to grab food on the way home? I’m too exhausted to cook lunch so we could just pull through a drive-thru.” She offered.

“What's a drive-thru?”

Draco was obsessed with the drive-thru. The wizarding world seemed so arcane to him after experiencing the model marvels of the Muggle world. In these past few days, he had encountered an array of Muggle accomplishments that surpassed the wizarding world's offerings, despite the absence of magic. It was as though Muggles had not only adapted but had also perfected every aspect, defying the lies he had been fed about their archaic and barbaric practices.

As they made their way back to her house, Draco was able to enjoy the drive with the absence of his guilt from earlier. He savored the green blur of passing trees and the momentary lack of rain, rolling the windows down halfway to feel the salty breeze in his hair. He turned the radio up, letting the music fill the cabin with melodies, seamlessly blending into the comfortable silence.

He stole glances at Granger, checking for any sign of concern or worry on her features. Her hair danced wildly in the wind, the interior of the car created a vortex that sent her locks spiraling in all directions. When he caught a glimpse of her face she was relaxed, her lips tracing a gentle, contented smile. She gazed out the window towards the ocean, softly harmonizing with the melodies of the song when she recognized them.

For a brief moment, he allowed himself to imagine what it would be like to build a life here, away from the shadows that had haunted him for so long.

They sat on the floor of Granger’s living room surrounding her newly transfigured coffee table as she unpacked the food, all of their bags from their shopping perched on the floor of the entryway. His mind flashed back to the nights of sitting on the floor, drinking Firewhisky and eating food in solitude in the safety of Granger’s flat. He found that he preferred the current moment to the ones back in London–the company he had now was better than the soft glow of the television.

Although the food didn’t hold the same gourmet charm as Harper’s Cafe or Dionysus, it was good enough to keep the pair preoccupied in the silence of the living room as they ate. The rain had started up again and the nearby ocean churned, causing the glass to emit a haunting groan in the wake of the resulting breeze.

His mind raced in the silence, remembering their interactions throughout the day and how easily he had admitted his deepest insecurities to Granger despite them having been enemies for years, on opposite sides of the War.

In ten days their paths would diverge, he would never see her again so when Granger asked questions he would normally avoid answering, he felt content with unburdening himself to her. She was as destroyed by the War as he was and didn’t judge him for the way he would react. With no motives to expose her location or motivations and no external influences looming over them, he found himself divulging freely. She had no one to report to, and he had no intentions of sharing things she admitted with anyone else. They had settled into a silent understanding, all secrets would stay here in the freedom of the Muggle world, left behind when he had to return to London.

He hadn’t found anyone who was as deep into the War as he was. Pansy was always there with him in the aftermath of traumatic events but her firsthand involvement had been largely confined to the somber grandeur of dinner parties. Those dinners were still terrifying and morbid but it paled in comparison to the harrowing intimacy of being thrust into heinous acts, where survival hung in the balance. He had watched Granger being tortured on the floor of the Manor, he heard of her getting hit with a curse in the Department of Mysteries. She was the only one who had willingly discussed the War without dismissing the true horrors they had witnessed. She pointed fingers at the people who had ruined her life with no remorse.

He found himself wanting to know more.

Draco took a deep, contemplative sip from his co*ke, his curiosity about Granger's life driving him to speak. “So, why did you choose America?”

Granger seemed momentarily caught off guard by his question. Her brow furrowed slightly as she processed his inquiry. “What do you mean?” she asked, her voice holding a trace of surprise.

He leaned back slightly against the couch, inviting her response. “You could have gone anywhere. Why did you choose America?”

Her eyes took on a distant look as she considered his question, and then she shifted her gaze to the ceiling as if searching for the right words. “I thought about going somewhere in Europe, but there would still be the chance of running into wizards who know who I am. I decided on America because even if I ran into an American wizard, it’s unlikely that they would recognize me. The news in the American wizarding world focused more on the abstract of the War and on Harry.”

“I suppose that makes sense. Why did you choose Oregon, specifically?”

A hint of suspicion edged into her expression. “Is this an interrogation?”

His lips quirked into a small smile. “No, I’ve just been talking a lot today, so I thought it would be nice to shift the focus away from myself for a bit.”

Relenting with a sigh, she responded, “I chose Oregon because I wanted somewhere isolated and rainy. I’ve always wanted to live somewhere deep in the forest, far away from everything, so this was my best option.”

“The rain here is better than in England.”

Granger's eyes lit up with agreement. “Right? It’s like England’s rain casts a dead, gray hue over everything, but here it’s more blue and alive.”

“I know exactly what you mean,” Draco chimed in. Memories of rainy days in England carried a heavy, gray aura that reminded him of the oppressive days in the Manor under the Dark Lord's presence. He cut off his train of thought, not wanting to venture into those dark memories. “Do you miss England?” he asked, steering the conversation in a different direction.

“No.” Granger's response was firm. “I thought I would miss it. I grew up there and spent my whole life there, but I don’t miss it. I think it’s just been tainted by everything.”

Draco nodded in understanding. “Do you miss your friends?”

The question seemed to catch her off guard once more, and her eyebrows furrowed as she considered it. “No. I miss the idea of them sometimes, but things have shifted so much over the last few years and even through the War. I don’t think we were ever as close as I thought we were.”

His curiosity piqued, Draco probed further. “What do you mean?”

She hesitated for a moment before continuing. “Harry and Ron were good friends, but we were so different. I always thought it was just because I was academically inclined, but as we got older, I realized it’s deeper than that. They always had interests that were different from mine, but I still managed to be a good friend to them. I despise Quidditch, but I would go to all of their matches and support them. I even went to a few professional matches after the War, but if I take them to a bookstore, they spend the whole time complaining. It’s like I should tolerate things I don’t like for the sake of hanging out with them, but they won’t extend me the same courtesy.” Granger's voice held a touch of bitterness as she shared her feelings.

Draco listened intently, a growing fire of anger and indignation building within him. He was no fan of Potter or Weasley, but hearing about their behavior toward Granger struck a nerve. He knew she had been instrumental in their survival during the War, and their treatment of her was nothing short of callous. His loyalty to his own friends, no matter what they faced, was unshakable. Granger's admission about her one-sided friendship with the two of them felt cruel. He could understand them being cruel to him given their history but Granger was supposedly their best friend.

He stayed quiet as she continued, “When Harry was mourning Sirius or Ron was mourning Fred I was there for them, supporting them. But as soon as I had feelings about the people I lost or the things I had to do during the War, they would avoid the subject and tell me to move on.”

“That’s not fair,” He murmured quietly, bottling his anger.

“It’s not.”

“Why did you stay friends with them for so long? Why did you stay with Weasley?”

“I held onto the hope that things would get better, that they would come to understand me, support me the way I did for them.” There was vulnerability underlying her words.

"They're wankers," Draco spat, his anger boiling over. "They left you to deal with your pain alone while they basked in their own glory."

“It’s not that simple. They had their own struggles.”

“Stop defending them.”

She groaned, gripping her hair in her hands, “I’m sorry, I’m trying to stop. I’ve defended them and their actions for so long that it’s become second nature for me.”

“Let yourself be angry.”

“I am angry.” She insisted, fixing him with an intense, blazing stare. “I’m angry at them, I have been for the last year and I thought it would get better with time but it’s just been growing. I’ve been angry with Ron and Harry and the Weasleys and Dumbledore and the Ministry and just the whole of the wizarding world for so long.”

“Why are you angry with the wizarding world?” He inquired, his voice a mixture of genuine curiosity and a hint of bewilderment. He couldn't help but let his surprise seep into his words, tinged with a shade of disbelief.

She let out an incredulous laugh, her calm facade finally breaking under the fire of her anger, “Where do I even begin?”

She had meant it as a rhetorical question but he wanted to know more, wanted to know if she felt the same way about the wizarding world as he did. “The beginning is usually a good place to start.”

She seemed to fight against her urge to confess her feelings for a few moments before she sighed and began speaking, “I was so excited to be a witch, I spent all the time between the arrival of my letter and leaving for Hogwarts studying, trying to retain as much as possible. I always loved reading but I struggled in Muggle primary school academically and socially due to my bouts of accidental magic. I was so happy to finally belong somewhere but as soon as I was in the wizarding world I was labeled either a swot or a Mudblood. I thought it would get better when I became friends with Harry and Ron but they still labeled me a swot and laughed along with everyone else when people made jokes about my bookishness.”

Her voice was low and angry, her words spilling out of her in a frenzy as she continued, “During the Triwizard Tournament the problems extended past Hogwarts and into the entire wizarding world. I was a child and I was labeled as a whor* by everyone due to the lies Rita published in the Prophet. I tried to ignore it but there were adults in Diagon and Hogsmeade who would say terrible things to me. I was a harlot who was manipulating two fine young men with bright futures. I hadn’t even had my first kiss and I was being sexualized and slandered by the general public. I ignored it because there were bigger things happening, Riddle was resurrected and Cedric was dead and complaining about the things being said about me would make me selfish.” Her jaw clenched, her eyes were dancing with barely concealed fury.

“During the War, everyone hated us because of the lies in the Ministry and the Prophet but as soon as Riddle was dead, suddenly they loved us. The same people who called me a whor* or claimed I was a danger to society were suddenly attending benefits and singing their praise for my actions during the War. They just expected me to forget the way they offered no support for Muggleborns, no support when I was being sexualized, no support when there was a price on my head. But now that all is said and done and I’m Harry’s friend they love me, they don’t know me, they don’t care to know me, it’s all despicable.”

Her words hung in the air as the room grew quiet, leaving Draco stunned. He hated the way the general public’s opinion was constantly flipping, shifting from one extreme to another regarding him and his family. One day, the world condemned the Malfoys; the next, they hailed his mother as a hero for deceiving the Dark Lord. When he was on trial they screamed about how much he deserved the Kiss but when Potter and Granger testified, they championed his redemption. Her experience was so similar to his.

Looking at her now, he could see the same anger in her that he would see in himself when he would let himself loose. There were times when he would drown his anger in drink, giving it the freedom to surface and unleashing a storm of shouts and fury against all those who had played a role in his history. He could recognize now that she held the same simmering anger he did, she just hid it so much better than he did.

“I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this.” Discomfort radiated from her as she shifted under his calculating gaze, wrapping her cardigan tightly around her with crossed arms.

“I’m angry with the wizarding world as well. I understand.” He admitted, a heavy swallow preceding his confession. Steeling himself, he continued, “I’m sorry for the way I treated you in school. I know I contributed to the bad experiences you had.”

Her response came gently but firmly, “I forgave you a long time ago.”

“I don’t deserve your forgiveness. No one was as cruel to you as I was.”

She regarded him with a steady gaze, her words grounded in understanding. “The things the general public said and did were more cruel. And you only acted cruelly towards me because of the beliefs of the Pureblood community, it’s not your fault that you were never given the chance to form your own opinions. Plus, I know your actions towards me were mostly misguided attempts at getting at Harry.”

She was so honest with him but he still felt a gnawing guilt inside of him over the way he treated her. “You may have forgiven me but I still want to earn it, I want you to know I don’t believe those things anymore.”

“If you still hated Muggles and Muggleborns you wouldn’t have applied for the job under me, you wouldn’t have traveled all the way to Muggle America to find me. If you still hated Muggles you would have given up and never followed me as soon as you found out I was in the Muggle world.”

“Maybe my anger towards you outweighed my hatred towards Muggles.” He responded in a haughty tone. He knew her reasoning was sound but he didn’t want her to let him off so easily.

“So you hate Rick?” She taunted, a playful glint in her eyes.

“Of course I don’t hate Rick.” He hissed, crossing his arms in defiance.

“And you’re just pretending to enjoy driving Muggle cars?”

“Maybe.” He countered with a touch of childish stubbornness, reluctant to concede.

She pressed on with an air of amusem*nt, “I see. Then why did you buy all those books by Muggle authors today? Planning on setting them on fire in an act of defiance? I can help you, I’m pretty good with pyromagic.” Her wand appeared in her hand, a mischievous gleam accompanying her words.

“You wouldn’t dare.” He growled.

She rolled her eyes and let out a soft laugh, “Of course I wouldn’t.”

“You’re scary, I wouldn’t be surprised if you did it just to prove your point.”

A teasing grin tugged at her lips, her eyes sparkling. “Well if you would stop brooding I wouldn’t be forced to prove my point.”

A rueful sigh escaped him, “I should have never told you about Uncle Sev.”

“Uncle Sev?” Her voice rose to a shriek, her smile radiant, “You called Snape Uncle Sev?” It was as if she had stumbled upon the most delightful secret.

He groaned, distracting himself from his rising annoyance by running his fingers through his disheveled hair, still ruffled from the wind that had swept through during the drive. Her amusem*nt seemed to die down a bit as she watched him.

“I am sorry that he died, by the way. I loathe him for the way he treated me and the other Gryffindors but it must have been hard for you to lose your Godfather.” Her voice was soft.

“I loathe him as well.” He admitted, remembering the betrayal he had felt after learning of his true alignment during the War. “I confided in him about not wanting to take the Mark and he refused to help me. I was upset about it then because he could easily sway the Dark Lord’s opinion but after finding everything else out I realized he was complacent in Dumbledore’s master plan. He didn’t help me because he knew I would fail in my task and he could play his part as instructed.” He kept his tone even as he spoke, refusing to allow any of his emotions to show through.

“It always comes back to that old bastard.”

Her choice of words caused a laugh to escape his chest, “It does. We could create a Dumbledore Haters club, you and I.”

“I would happily join.”

A sly grin curved Draco's lips as he gently prodded the delicate balance between them. "I'm surprised you haven't already made it, S.P.E.W was a great success after all."

He watched, amused, as her expression shifted to irritation, “Oh, come off it. You know I apologized to the house elves at Hogwarts over that whole situation.”

“But you achieved so much!” He argued in mock support, his tone laden with a touch of theatrical sincerity. “Who knows what other great cause you could create a society for this time.”

She laughed softly, watching his impassioned declaration with dancing eyes, “I won't be taking any advice from you on that matter, thank you very much.”

“But I have so much wisdom to offer.” He grumbled.

In that moment as they shared quiet laughter in the solitude of Granger’s living room, Draco found himself grateful for the twist of fate that had brought him here, to this unfamiliar place, and to the company of a woman who had once been one of his greatest enemies.

Chapter 15: sweet nothing

Chapter Text

They said the end is coming
Everyone's up to something
I find myself running home to your sweet nothings
Outside, they're push and shoving
You're in the kitchen humming
All that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing

sweet nothing - taylor swift

“Would you be okay with reading for a few hours?” Granger’s voice was hopeful as she looked at Draco, a guarded look in her eyes.

“That sounds great to me.” He answered honestly, rising himself from his position on the floor.

The tension in her shoulders relaxed as she did the same, wandlessly vanishing the trash on the coffee table. “I was thinking about reading on the back porch, you can stay inside if you would like.”

“I’ll join you. I just need to grab a few things from the car.”

“Okay, I’ll be out back.”

When he joined her in the backyard, one arm cradling his foraged snacks from the car and the other housing ‘Pride and Prejudice’, she was in the middle of transfiguring a chair out of a leaf. She hadn’t heard him arrive so he just stayed still, observing her.

Her eyebrows were creased in concentration, chewing her lip as she moved her wand in slow movements. The legs of the chair started flowing, wood carvings similar to the ones on the coffee table forming in the moving grain. The cushions grew thicker and changed to a deep red, the texture of the fabric reminiscent of the leaf she used. With a final flourish of her wand, the newly-formed chair settled onto the black wood of the porch. A soft sigh of satisfaction escaped her lips as she lowered her wand.

“It’s a bit cold out here.” He remarked softly, ensuring she was aware of his presence.

“I’ll cast some warming charms, don’t worry.” She turned toward him, her gaze meeting his. “I’ll transfigure you a chair just give me a minute.”

“No worries, I can do it.” He countered, withdrawing his wand as he deftly balanced his assortment of items. He cast a quick suspension spell on his book and snacks, allowing him to focus solely on the transfiguration task at hand.

While he worked, she excused herself and disappeared into the house, leaving behind a delicate trail of parchment and lavender that lingered in the air.

Alone in the backyard, he walked down the stairs and towards the grassy area, finding a small black rock to transfigure. When she returned he was sitting on a black wood chair, taller than hers to accommodate his long legs but with similar wood carvings so the pair was still matching. His cushions were a deep emerald color, a jab at her obviously Gryffindor inspired color scheme on her own. His snacks were perched on his legs and ‘Pride and Prejudice’ was already open in his hands when she emerged.

A soft scoff drew his attention upward, his gaze meeting Granger's as she observed his chair. Her arrival had also brought forth an array of hovering objects—one of the side tables, a steaming cup of tea for her, and a co*ke for him. The items settled themselves between the two chairs.

“Thank you.”

She responded with a single raised eyebrow, a wordless acknowledgment of his gratitude. She cast a few spells wandlessly, shielding them from the brisk sea breeze and providing them with constant warmth.

They sat comfortably, reading their respective books in silence. Every few minutes, Granger would make a comment about something she read in ‘Trauma and Violence: The Aftermath of Violence’ and they would discuss it briefly before continuing their reading. He thought it would be annoying to be interrupted but Draco soon found himself not only receptive to her insights but also eager to contribute his own.

“You know who Mrs. Bennett reminds me of?”

“Who?” She looked at him with an amused look in her eye.

“Molly Weasley.”

She burst into laughter at that, “You’re so right, that woman is a nightmare. You know I’ve caught her slipping me fertility potions before?”

He let out a low chuckle, “Congrats on avoiding having her as a Mother-In-Law, you really dodged an Avada with that one.”

Her agreement hummed softly, her attention eventually returning to her book, leaving behind a smile that lingered on her lips.

Hours passed, the sun beginning to dip below the horizon of the ocean crashing below them. He relished in the comfort of a quiet evening after having such a tumultuous morning. The few exchanges they had over the time reading were a nice break from the seriousness of their War conversations. He found himself not only captivated by the world within the pages of his book but also by the world unfolding beside him—Granger's passion, her animated gestures, the spark that ignited in her eyes when their perspectives collided.

There was a moment when he caught her slipping her hand into one of his bags of snacks, obviously trying to go unnoticed. A sidelong glance and a roll of his eyes conveyed his knowing awareness, an unspoken permission that she needn't hide her intentions. She just responded with a sheepish smile as she shoveled a handful of M&Ms into her mouth.

The silence of the evening was extinguished as his mobile began ringing and he squirmed in his seat to retrieve his phone from his pocket and checked the name before answering it. The name 'Pansy' greeted his eyes, and an involuntary sense of relief washed over him.

“Is it your arsehole friend again?” Granger asked, a hint of mischief in her eyes.

A smirk tugged at his lips as he locked eyes with her. “Thankfully no.” He replied, his tone laced with a touch of dry amusem*nt.

“Hello.”

“Are you still wallowing in self-pity?” Pansy asked sweetly.

“It’s so good to talk to you too.” He responded sarcastically, his gaze momentarily diverted from Granger's to focus on the conversation. He set his book down on the side table, “But no, I’m fine.”

“You really should see a Mind Healer.” Pansy hissed into the phone.

“Why would I do that when I can just bother you instead?” He teased.

“Because I’m not licensed to deal with your bullsh*t.” She retorted with a hint of exasperation. “But seriously if you’re having panic attacks again you should probably go see someone.” This was a conversation they had constantly but he had become an expert at deflecting.

Granger rose from her seat, “I’m gonna go make dinner.” She said quietly, trying not to interrupt his conversation.

“Okay, do you need help?” He asked her, his eyes pleading with her to agree. She seemed to understand what he was doing and she just smiled wickedly.

“No, I can manage on my own. Enjoy your conversation.” With that she abandoned him to his fate.

Pansy’s voice chimed in, “Do I need help with what?”

“I was talking to Granger, sorry.” He clarified, rubbing his temples with a slow, deliberate motion as if preempting the headache that might ensue.

“You're with her right now?” Curiosity tinged her voice, edged with a hint of something he couldn't quite place.

“Yes, we’ve been reading and now she’s making dinner.”

“Merlin, Draco, did you even listen to me this morning? Don’t grow attached to her, you have to leave soon. Don’t get all cozy and domestic with her, it's just going to complicate things.”

“We are not cozy and domestic.” He asserted, the words leaving his lips with an air of denial. “Go tell Theo and Blaise that, they’re the epitome of complicated.”

“They’ll figure it out eventually plus it’s different with those two. Stop deflecting.”

He groaned, “Look, I’m gonna go help Granger with dinner. Thank you for calling to check in on me.”

“Okay, Draco. Be careful.”

As he ended the call, her advice echoed softly within him. But her concerns, while genuine, were colored by her outsider's perspective. She didn’t understand his and Granger’s situation, she was obviously just misreading it.

They settled into their spots on the living room floor, Draco eating his plate of pasta with vodka sauce slowly, savoring the pasta as Granger started discussing similarities between Regency era courting and Pureblood courting. He was about to give his own input when Draco spotted the orange beast walking leisurely into the living room, the cat was side-eyeing him as he pranced by the coffee table.

“What is that?” Draco interrupted, his eyes narrowing as they honed in on the creature in question.

“Why is he looking at me like that?” He asked, his gaze locked in a silent challenge with the cat's.

“He’s a cat, Malfoy. He’s just looking at you like a cat.” She sounded amused.

“He’s judging me, I can feel it.” His stare was met with an equally inscrutable feline gaze as he spoke in an incredulous tone.

Granger's laughter danced through the air as she looked between them, “Well Kneazles are very intelligent and have a knack for sussing out untrustworthy people so maybe he is judging you.”

“Is this the same cat that was always chasing the Weasel’s rat around Hogwarts?”

“Yeah, it turned out that the rat was Peter Pettigrew in Animagus form.”

The revelation elicited a mixture of surprise and wry amusem*nt from Draco. “Holy f*ck, of course Pettigrew’s Animagus was a rat.” He cast a derisive glance toward the cat, addressing it with a mocking tone. “Maybe if you were faster you could’ve saved me from years of suffering.”

The orange creature’s tail flicked in response and then, with a languid stretch, Crookshanks made his exit, walking out of the living room and embarking on a gradual ascent up the staircase. Draco watched after it with a glare.

When he looked back at Granger, she was smiling at him, her eyes sparkling in amusem*nt. His heartbeat quickened in response and he quickly averted his gaze redirecting his attention to the remnants of his meal.

They finished their meal in that familiar, comfortable silence and took their plates to the sink. As Granger walked him to the door, an unspoken agreement that it was time for him to leave, she seemed to vibrate with nervous energy. Her movements betrayed her unease, her fingers absentmindedly tousling her hair until it assumed a more unruly state.

“Do you want to stay with me?” The bags from their shopping excursion were poised in his grasp, his attention momentarily drawn from them to meet her gaze. The concern that creased her brows mirrored the uncertainty in her tone.

“I mean would you rather just stay here starting tomorrow?” He was caught off guard and she seemed to be uncomfortable with the silence, rambling, “I just mean it’s probably a lot of money paying for the hotel when you could just stay with me. I have a guest room–it doesn’t have furniture but we could go furniture shopping or we could transfigure something if you’re more comfortable with that. I mean I understand if you don’t want to, you know, after the whole Obliviation thing but like I said I won’t do it ag-”

“I’ll stay here.” The agreement emerged with a certainty that surprised even him. He abandoned the bags where they were, deciding it wouldn’t make sense to bring them to the hotel with him if he was just going to pack and be back here tomorrow.

Her shoulders relaxed, an exhausted smile creeping up on her, “Okay, cool.” The silence was full of tension as they awkwardly made their way to the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Of course.” He responded too firmly, opening the front door. “Goodnight.”

"Goodnight, Draco." Her voice followed him as he ventured toward his car.

He drove through the winding backroads, the radio on the lowest volume as his thoughts consumed him.

It had felt like an eternity since he had shown up on Granger’s doorstep but so much had changed in the matter of a few days. The events of the past few days had imbued his reality with a heightened intensity, a sensation that every interaction and conversation had unfolded in slow-motion. It had only been two mornings ago when Granger had stood over him and attempted to modify his memories but it felt like months of conversations had taken place since that time. She had seen him at his most vulnerable but it seemed as though these conversations and interactions had changed their dynamic. The boundaries that had once separated them had blurred, replaced by a shared understanding that resonated on a deeper level.

He was buzzing with excitement knowing that he was going to get to stay at Granger’s house. The orange beast would be an annoyance but the thought of being in closer proximity to her ignited a spark of anticipation—one that promised more discoveries in the Muggle world, more conversations that flowed seamlessly from topic to topic.

As the hotel came into view, he tried to manage his expectations, convincing himself it didn’t mean anything. It’s not like they had become friends in the matter of a day.

Draco immediately recognized he was in the drawing room of Malfoy Manor. There were three eras of the drawing room all vastly different. There was the drawing room he grew up in–the warm glow of the sunlight filtering through the floor to ceiling windows, the abundance of expensive hand crafted furniture and paintings showing off the opulence and wealth of the Malfoy name. Recently the drawing room had been redone, the vaulted ceiling enchanted to mimic the night sky, all chandeliers gone. The dark floor had been replaced with a light marble, the columns and wall recolored to a light green. The room was constantly filled with flowers and greenery as if life could erase the haunted memories associated with that room.

The drawing room he was sitting in now was the dark, soulless room where all of the furniture was pushed to the side to leave room for whatever the Dark Lord decided would take place. Shadows danced ominously, an eerie waltz in the dusty air that clung to every corner of the room. Here he sat, stationed at a dark mahogany desk nestled in the farthest corner, fully aware of the purpose that this chamber was about to serve.

Bellatrix returned to the room, the cursed blade twirling deftly between her fingers as she smiled menacingly toward the figure he knew would be quivering on the far side of the room.

The scene played out the same way he had experienced it. He immediately forced his Occlusion shields in place, letting the cold overtake his body as the sounds of Aunt Bella and Granger’s back and forth began again.

A guttural scream, raw with agony, shattered his focus, his eyes darting to the floor where Aunt Bella was on top of Granger’s squirming body, the cursed blade pushed into her forearm. Granger's eyes connected with Draco's, an unspoken plea emanating from their depths. He could only bear witness as each stroke of the blade elicited yet another anguished cry.

His mother and father were hovering behind him, his mother’s grip on his shoulder tightening as her hands trembled. His father was stoic as he stood next to them but was unable to conceal the distress that simmered behind his eyes.

He fought against the memory, he couldn’t sit there and watch this like he always did. He couldn’t sit in the chair and Occlude and wait until her rescue came too late. It wouldn’t be long before Aunt Bella would have completed the word on her arm and Greyback would ask to play with her next. He couldn’t watch the horror in Granger as she realized her fate.

“Stop.” His whispered plea was barely audible through Aunt Bella’s cackling.

The scene relentlessly proceeded, as if bound by an immutable script. Granger's cries persisted, clawing at Draco's resolve. He propelled himself from the chair and his hands trembled as they fumbled for his wand, and with its firm grasp, he directed it toward the back of Aunt Bella.

His parents' expressions morphed into surprise, eyes wide as they stepped aside. Granger was looking up at him with relief as unsteady steps carried him closer.

“Get off of her.” He growled louder.

Aunt Bella spun around, her tangled tresses obscuring part of her face, but her malevolent gaze fixed unflinchingly upon him. Her eyes gleamed and her smile was sinister as she looked up at him. “You want your turn on the Mudblood, Drakey?”

“If you touch her again I will tear you apart myself.”

Her laughter echoed in the room as her face transformed into disgust, “Aw, does ickle little Drakey have a crush on the Mudblood?”

Determined fury surged within him, his anger casting a vivid green light that erupted from his wand.

With a shuddering gasp, Draco’s eyes snapped open in the dark hotel room. He was drenched in a cold sweat, his breathing ragged as he tried to ground himself back in reality.

It had been a long time since he had dreamed of that moment in the drawing room. When he started working at the Ministry with Granger, he began reliving that memory nightly. Her constant presence in his life had caused his Occlusion shields to falter after months of peace. Shortly after, this breach triggered a cascade of other memories—moments he had long sought to bury in the deepest recesses of his mind.

It was the period of time when his drinking really began to get worse in an effort to sleep dreamlessly. He had spent so long in a drunken haze he had forgotten that the added presence of Granger had ignited his addiction. He knew now that it wasn’t her fault and it was more likely the result of transitioning from months in solitude to being constantly surrounded by people from his past and their constant scrutiny.

He took a steadying breath, sidetracking his own thoughts to avoid placing blame.

The nightmare weighed on him heavily but his newfound control amidst it was a more pressing revelation. He had never been able to change his actions before, he had always been a helpless bystander being forced to relive those horrible moments. But suddenly he could alter it, diverge from the script of helplessness that had held him captive. His mind raced with the possibilities of what it could mean, would he be able to finally confront his past actions and take control? His inner skeptic warned him not to surrender to false hope.

He knew he would be unable to sleep anymore so he arose with a sigh, beginning the task of packing his bags in the dimly lit room. As he turned on the radio, he banished all thoughts of Malfoy Manor, of Granger’s screams, of his newfound control. Instead, he hummed softly, thinking of Granger and the similarities between her and Elizabeth Bennet that he had avoided mentioning to her the night before.

Maybe he was finally beginning to understand her.

Chapter 16: peace

Chapter Text

But I'm a fire, and I'll keep your brittle heart warm

If your cascade ocean wave blues come

All these people think love's for show

But I would die for you in secret

The devil's in the details, but you got a friend in me

Would it be enough if I could never give you peace?

peace - taylor swift

When Granger opened the front door of her house, as grumpy and disheveled as she was the morning before, a wave of relief rushed over Draco. He knew logically that his dream was just a manifestation of his memories but seeing her alive and well, far from the clutches of the War and that drawing room, eased the worry he had been pushing to the back of his mind all morning.

“Good morning.” He purred, a smirk involuntarily playing across his lips at the sight of the familiar grouchy morning version of Granger.

“I swear to Merlin if you keep waking me up at the crack of dawn I will report you for breaking your probation.” She growled, glaring up at him through bleary eyes.

“Merlin forbid you wake up at a normal time.”

Draco had been intentionally cautious to arrive slightly later than the previous day, hoping it would give her enough time to begin her day before he appeared at her door. Again he found himself following her towards the kitchen, his eyes roving over her clothes, the oversized red shirt from the morning before replaced with a black one.

“Did you sleep alright?”

“If I hadn’t been woken up so early I would say yes but unfortunately my sleep was interrupted by a pompous arsehole who wakes up with the sun.”

He adopted an inquisitive tone, “Ah, I see. It makes a lot more sense now.” He muttered, as if having a sudden realization.

Granger turned back to him while filling the teapot with water, “What?”

“I was confused why you would invite me to stay here but it makes more sense now. You just didn’t want to deal with me knocking at your door early in the morning.”

She scoffed, “I didn’t even think of that but it will be a relief.” She cast him a sideways glance as she ignited the fire on the stove, “Just don’t start knocking on my bedroom door instead.”

“Can’t promise anything.”

As she turned, leaning against the counter to face him, he caught sight of the scar on her forearm. The cuts seemed as if they had just been etched that very morning by Aunt Bella's hand. He hadn't noticed it yesterday morning, and whenever he'd been around Granger before, she always wore long sleeves. He quickly averted his gaze, a pang in his chest as he recalled the guttural screams that still echoed in his mind.

She seemed to sense his lingering gaze and promptly crossed her arms. He didn't want her to think he was repulsed or taken aback, so he began to ramble, “I apologize, I just haven’t seen it since that day.”

She groaned, “It’s too early for this conversation. At least let me get a cup of tea in me before you begin talking.” She looked uncomfortable but not offended so he simply nodded and retrieved a can of co*ke from the fridge before propping himself against the kitchen island.

“I’m gonna make breakfast, are eggs and toast okay with you?”

He nodded, and she began moving around the space, gathering ingredients. Feeling rather useless, he interjected, “Do you need help?”

“You just went to the grocery store for the first time the other day so I highly doubt you know how to cook with or without magic.” She raised an eyebrow, looking at him pointedly.

He felt a surge of offense. Sure, he'd never cooked a day in his life, but how could she just assume that?

“Maybe I’m an incredible cook and you’re just making assumptions of me based on stereotypes.”

“Okay, you can make breakfast then.” She said, stepping aside and gesturing towards the gathered items next to the stovetop.

He regarded the items with a certain wariness, considering the prospect of attempting to cook just to test his capabilities. However, as he studied the components, confusion started creeping in. While cracking eggs seemed straightforward enough, he was confronted with questions like which pan to use and how to gauge the stove's temperature accurately. Maybe he could use Incendio to toast the bread, provided he could manage its intensity. He cycled through a few more ideas before admitting defeat, “Okay, fine. I don’t know how to cook.” He grumbled.

She rolled her eyes and took the whistling kettle off the burner before pouring the steaming water into her tea cup. As she began cracking the eggs and preparing everything, he watched curiously. He had watched Mipsy cook before but he was never paying attention to the intricacies of it. “Can you teach me how to cook the Muggle way?”

“Maybe if you’re nice to me.”

“Come on, Granger, when have I not been nice to you?” He teased.

“Would you like an itemized list?”

He theatrically groaned, “Fine, I’ll live my life with no proper skills and just eat takeaway and junk food like an invalid.”

A soft laugh escaped her lips. “I’ll teach you, Malfoy, just not right now.”

A private smile played on his lips as he relished this small victory. Perhaps, once he returned to his flat, he could finally prepare his own meals. His smile wavered a touch as he remembered he would soon be back in the stifling world of wizarding society.

He continued sipping his co*ke, using it as a diversion from his thoughts of impending homecoming. After a few moments, he decided to put his time to good use and completed Granger's tea preparation, all the while aware of her scrutinizing gaze.

“Are you stealing my tea?” She inquired, her tone tinged with suspicion.

“No, I’m preparing it for you. You’re welcome, by the way.” He said haughtily as he added the milk and honey exactly as she had instructed him previously. He maintained a mask of indifference as her watchful eyes followed his every move.

Once the meal was plated, they migrated to the living room, the anticipation of food causing Draco's stomach to emit a low growl. The breakfast was simple, but as he ate, a pang of nostalgia struck him. He realized how much he missed the mornings at the Manor—the gentle sunlight streaming in, his mother engaging him in conversation while his father read the newspaper. Breakfasts like these had become a rarity. He rarely indulged in morning meals, often too ensnared in the haze of a post-drinking stupor to consider food.

He shifted his gaze to Granger, his eyes lingering on her forearm as she shoveled some of the scrambled eggs onto the toast. The cuts were a glossy, deep red and looked as if they could start bleeding at any moment. He knew that the blade was cursed but had no idea what that entailed until he saw the results now, the wound still open after two years. Memories of that harrowing day in the drawing room surged through him, making it difficult to swallow his food.

“Are you properly caffeinated now?”

She looked up at him and seemed to realize that he was attempting to reignite the early conversation. She let out a resigned sigh. “Yes.”

He ran his hands through his hair, weighing his words before he began speaking, “I’m sorry that I didn’t do anything to help.”

“Malfoy, I forga-”

“Please let me finish.” He interjected, meeting her with a stern look, “I know you probably forgave me for it along with everything else but I would like to apologize still.” She observed him intently, her lips set in a determined line.

“There’s a few moments from the War and the lead up that I regret but that day in the Manor is the one I struggle with the most. I wish I hadn’t been such a coward that day and at least tried to help you.” He tried to keep his voice even, “I was in a situation where defying Aunt Bella would result in not only my death but my parents’ as well. I did what I could when I lied about not recognizing Potter but when she started torturing you there was nothing I could do.” He swallowed, avoiding her eyes, “So I’m sorry for sitting there while she did that to you, I’m sorry I didn’t fight back for you, and I’m sorry that someone related to me caused you so much harm.”

“We made it out alive.” She responded simply.

“I know but I should have done something more. You didn’t deserve to go through that.”

“You’re the only reason we were able to escape. If you hadn’t lied, Riddle would have come before we had a chance to get out of there.”

Perhaps she was right, but a twinge of guilt still gnawed at him. “I could have done more.” He insisted.

“Do you even realize how significant that day was in the grand scheme of the War?” She asked suddenly.

“No?”

Her incredulous gaze met his. “No one told you about the Elder Wand?”

“Yes, the Dark Lord was under the assumption that Dumbledore’s wand was the Elder Wand so he took it from me.” He loathed the way the Dark Lord chased after the wand, convinced it was one of the Deathly Hallows. Even now, the mention of that blasted wand made his blood boil.

She smiled slightly as she explained, “Well Riddle didn’t know about that moment in the Manor when Harry disarmed you. Harry became the wielder of the wand and when it didn’t work for Riddle after taking it from you, he assumed he had to kill whoever killed the last owner which is why he killed Snape. It’s the reason he failed in the end.”

He was shocked, his mouth open in shock and his eyebrows furrowed as he processed this information. The Dark Lord had chased it to the end and still failed to properly wield it. He burst into laughter, the irony of it all hitting him suddenly, “Holy f*ck, he was such an idiot.”

“He was.” She hummed in agreement, “But that’s why I don’t let that day bother me, it was terrible but if we hadn’t gone through that and if you had tried to help more, things wouldn’t have ended as they did.”

He knew that she was right, if Harry hadn’t disarmed him the Dark Lord would have been the wielder of the wand and there would have been nothing stopping him from winning. “I still feel bad.” He confessed.

“You can’t fix the things you’ve already done but you can choose differently in the future. Just know I don’t blame you for protecting your family and not helping me. I don’t hate you for it and I’m honestly happy you didn’t interfere because if you had that noseless bastard would still be around.” Her words were light, yet the gravity of her gaze held a seriousness as their eyes locked.

“You forgive too easily.” He noted.

She scoffed, “I’ve only forgiven a few people so you should feel honored you’re not on my sh*t list.”

“You must like me a lot then if Potter and Weasley are on the sh*t list and I’m not.” He teased, a smirk tugging at his lips.

Rolling her eyes, she redirected her attention to her food. He couldn't help but notice that she didn't refute his implication, and a surge of warmth blossomed in his chest.

After eating, she led him upstairs and showed him his room before excusing herself to get ready and disappearing into the room across the hall from him. Standing alone in the vacant room, he took a moment to appreciate the view. The tall spruce trees surrounding the property were visible through the window which overlooked the front yard. The vines that snaked up the side of her house extended across the pointed arch of his window and the rain pattered softly against the exterior of the glass, creating a blurred effect on the view.

Eventually, he tore his gaze away from the scenery, collected his belongings from the car, and placed his alcohol and Muggle snacks in the kitchen. He then grabbed his bags of shoes and clothes from the previous day and struggled up the stairs until he remembered he could use magic and whipped his wand out, levitating the suitcase and bags behind him. Since the room was barren and there were no hangers in the closet, he placed his bags in the corner before opening the bags from the clothing shop and changing into a pair of dark Muggle jeans and a black hoodie he didn’t even remember trying on the day before.

He stood in the clothes and was finally able to enjoy the difference in comfort level in the Muggle clothing, he had been too distracted before. He slipped on the black shoes he had tested out earlier, the memory of Granger crouched before him, tying the laces, briefly resurfacing. He discreetly used his wand to secure the laces, attempting to dismiss the heat that crept into his cheeks as he remembered their shared moment. Finally descending the stairs, he registered that the third room at the end of the hallway was likely the bathroom, given the muted sound of a shower coming from behind the door.

He unpacked his bags of books with a flick of his wand, deciding to organize them on one of the empty shelves in the living room. Once they settled into place he approached the loveseat and came to an abrupt halt when he noticed it was already occupied – by a certain orange feline.

He scowled down at the cat nestled in his chosen spot, "Move."

The cat merely blinked back at him, unfazed. Refusing to yield to a cat, he settled into the spot next to it instead of resigning himself to the larger couch. The cat shot him a disgruntled look as its cushion was jostled, “I’m sitting here and if you don’t like it you can move.” He growled.

Crookshanks just lowered his head, resuming his nap as Draco reached across him to retrieve Granger’s copy of ‘Pride and Prejudice’ off of the side table.

It wasn’t long before Granger descended the stairs, dressed in a faded hand stitched green sweater tucked into a long black skirt. Seeing her in green was satisfying and he briefly wondered how she would look in one of his Quidditch jerseys before his thought process was stopped by her shocked expression as she looked at him.

He felt self conscious in his Muggle wear, “What?” He snapped.

She shook her head, her eyes still wide, “Nothing.” She paused as she bent down to put her discarded trainers on, “You’re wearing Muggle clothes?”

“Yes? Isn’t that why we bought it?” He couldn’t fathom why she was being so weird about it. He doubted he looked that weird.

Standing upright again, she said, “Yes, I just don’t know if I can get used to Draco Malfoy wearing Converse and jeans. It’s weird.”

“Should I go change?” He glanced down at himself, perplexed, attempting to discern the cause of her behavior.

“No!” Her response was notably loud before she moderated her tone, “Sorry, no,” She continued at a normal volume, “You look fine. It will probably be more comfortable for you considering we’re gonna have to carry heavy items.”

“We are?” His confusion deepened.

“We’re going furniture shopping, sorry I thought I said that at some point.” She ran a hand through her curls, her voice now carrying an apologetic note.

“I’m driving.”

They reached the furniture store in Seaside, just a few blocks away from the shopping center they had visited the day prior. As Draco guided the car into the parking lot, she directed him to pull over by the side of the building. She unbuckled her seatbelt, “Give me a minute, I need to do something.”

Before he could question her she had already exited and he felt the telltale sensation of a Disillusionment Charm enveloping the vehicle. Watching her in the rearview mirror, he observed her retrieving her wand and engaging in a series of incantations. After a few minutes, she walked up to the driver's door and opened it, “Okay, we’re good.”

Curiosity getting the better of him, he got out of the car and inquired, “What were you doing?”

“I casted an Undetectable Extension and a glamour.” She explained. As he glanced at the car while walking around it, he realized that his once sleek black vehicle now appeared like a large moving truck.

“Why?” He grasped the concept of the extension charm, but the transformation had rendered his car rather unsightly.

“We need to buy a few large items and if they see us putting them into a tiny car it’s gonna look a little suspicious.” Her response carried an air of obviousness, which he supposed was warranted. He had momentarily forgotten that Muggles lacked the ability to shrink objects or enlist house elves to manage their furniture transportation.

As they entered the shop, he wasn’t overly surprised by the appearance of it. It was exactly like any furniture store he had been to in the wizarding world just without the presence of magical modification. He followed her to the section of dining tables, staying by her side as she looked at the options.

Her eyebrows were creased in concentration as she turned to him after a few moments of silent contemplation, “Which one do you like?”

He was surprised that she was asking his opinion, “That one seems like the best option.” He said, gesturing towards a white marble banquet table with simple black metal legs, “It’s similar to the one in your London flat.”

“Yeah, maybe too similar though.” She chewed on her lip.

“The white will brighten the dining room. The dark ones will make it feel like a dungeon.” He argued.

“I know .” She seemed to struggle, “Okay, we’ll get those with the black leather chairs then.”

They continued through the building, their opinions clashing before one or the other would concede and they would finalize their decision. They ended up at the cash register purchasing the white marble dining set, a black wooden canopy bed and matching nightstand, a mattress, and an emerald green bedding set. As the cashier scanned the bedding, Draco shot Granger a smug look and she just glared back. He had fought hard for his Slytherin green bedding set.

“We’ll bring the dining table and larger furniture to your car for you.” The cashier said as Granger pocketed the change from the transaction.

“Actually, can you just set them out front? We can get them into our moving truck.”

The cashier looked at her and at Draco, eyes roving over them, “Are you sure ?” He asked, unconvinced.

She just smiled sweetly, “We’re stronger than we look.” She insisted as Draco smothered a rising laugh.

They returned to the car and set the bedding in the back seat before Draco turned to her, “Are we really gonna have to carry all that furniture ourselves?” He asked in disbelief.

She laughed, “Yes, Malfoy, welcome to the Muggle world.” Her eyes glinted with mischief.

“Why did you buy the f*cking marble table?”

“ You convinced me so no complaining.” She said sternly, dragging him to the front of the building where their furniture was being dropped off. They made quick work of the chairs, Granger climbing into the extended trunk so Draco could pass them to her.

As they picked up the dining table, Draco's frustration echoed in a low growl, “Whose idea was it to make a table out of marble? This is absurd.” Struggling to maintain his grip, his arms trembled with effort as they maneuvered it toward their car. His side dipped intermittently, struggling to uphold the heavy load, but he noticed Granger was barely affected, watching him with a barely suppressed laugh.

He narrowed his eyes at her, something wasn’t right. There was no way she was secretly a weightlifter who could carry a two hundred fifty kilogram table with ease. He stopped suddenly, the realization setting in, “Are you using f*cking magic right now?” He hissed, disbelief coloring his voice.

She responded with a knowing smile, “Of course not.” Not a trace of strain tainted her tone, “I would have to be able to cast wandlessly.” Her smirk held an air of playful challenge.

He was outraged, “Cast it on this side. Or I swear to Merlin-” He spat, his expression contorting into a sneer.

Amusem*nt bubbled forth from her, a laugh painting her features with genuine amusem*nt. “If you ask nicely.”

He shot her a glare, only relenting when the weight miraculously lifted. A sigh of relief escaped him, “You are evil.”

“Don’t be dramatic.” She retorted, a teasing edge in her words.

As they carried the now weightless table, he watched her. Her mahogany eyes were dancing with amusem*nt and he was again reminded how different this Hermione was from the one he had shared a drink with in her Ministry office.

Do you ever wish you had just not made it to the other side of the War?

He hadn’t revisited that question in so long but as he carried Muggle furniture with a spirited Granger, he couldn’t help but feel that his answer to that question had changed. He didn’t know when that shift had happened but suddenly he wished she would ask again just so he could tell her he would live through the War again just to see her here, in Muggle America, far away from the society that failed her time and time again. He would endure it all just to see her happy.

Chapter 17: delicate

Chapter Text

This ain't for the best
My reputation's never been worse, so
You must like me for me
Yeah, I want you

We can't make any promises
Now can we, babe?
But you can make me a drink

Is it cool that I said all that?
Is it chill that you're in my head?
'Cause I know that it's delicate

delicate - taylor swift

Draco suppressed his thoughts of Granger and the increasing warmth in his chest as they lowered the table into the extended trunk of the glamoured car. She was still smiling brightly and he was keeping up his air of annoyance as they returned to where the workers had dropped off their furniture items but as they arrived at the spot, there were only boxes and the mattress.

“Where’s the bed and bedside table?” He asked as Granger motioned at him to pick up the other side of the mattress.

“They’re in the boxes.”

“How do they fit?” He was incredibly confused, one of the boxes was quite small and the other was larger but still not big enough to house the entire bed frame they had selected.

“They come in pieces and you have to build them yourself.” She explained as they lifted the mattress and began the short walk to the car.

“You have to build your own furniture?”

“Yes, Malfoy. It’s not that hard.”

“We aren’t carpenters though, do you even have the tools for building them?” He was well aware that, in the wizarding world, furniture was typically crafted using magic. His mother had acquired hand-carved pieces at significant cost, but even then, magic played a significant role in the crafting process.

“It comes with everything we need but we also can just use magic. It comes with instructions on how to build it and all the screws and tools.” She explained as they placed the mattress in the trunk.

Draco found himself intrigued by the idea of assembling furniture. If Muggles were purchasing items in pieces and putting them together, then it surely couldn't be too complex for him to manage. “I’ll build the guest bedroom furniture.” He announced, a spark of determination igniting within him.

Granger let out an exasperated groan as they picked up the last couple of items. “I don’t want to spend my afternoon building furniture.” She complained, her tone tinged with reluctance.

“I’ll do it by myself.”

Draco couldn’t help but lose himself in his thoughts as he drove them back to the house. His ever changing feelings for Granger were starting to confuse him. He respected her on a basic level ever since he learned of the things she had done during the War and the years leading up to it. He never hated her as much as he hated Potter and Weasley even when she interfered in his life but that hatred had dissipated so quickly when she had expressed her reasoning and the struggles she faced that he was never privy to.

He had decided that being acquaintances would be acceptable while he stayed in Oregon but that line had been crossed so quickly. He enjoyed her company so deeply–all of the intellectual conversations they had while reading, her willingness to answer his questions on Muggle things, her opinions on the War, the way she bullied him. He realized how similar they were in their struggles post-War and the anger they both held onto. It’s like they were kindred souls that had just been trapped on the opposite sides of the War, destined to go down diverging paths and never meet.

He knew he didn’t deserve this kind of life free from the ghosts of the War but Hermione did. She had sacrificed her entire life for the sake of the wizarding world and wanted nothing in return but to live peacefully. His heart ached knowing he couldn’t have the same experience, he couldn’t stay here. But maybe he could move on and just be happy for her because she truly deserved this life she was building.

His head had never felt so clear, he suddenly knew that even when he returned to London he could continue on this path. He didn’t need to fuel his anger with alcohol, he wasn’t chanting to himself about how he could move on from the War because for the first time ever he felt like he actually could.

But despite this newfound reality, he wanted more. He didn’t want to just leave and never see Hermione again. He wanted to talk to her about whatever book she was reading, he wanted to keep going on drives in the winding back roads with Muggle music playing, he wanted to be her friend.

I promise that after next Friday you will never see me again.

Those words he had uttered in her car reverberated in his memory. Now, their weight was heavier, laden with regret. He didn’t want to leave but he would, he had to. He couldn't bring himself to break the promise he had made to Hermione.

When they arrived at the house, they worked together levitating the furniture items into the house. The dining table and chairs found their place in the front room, while the rest of the items were levitated upstairs to the guest bedroom.

As he began opening the furniture boxes in the small bedroom, Granger placed the mattress against the wall before addressing him, “I’m going to run a few errands while you work on the furniture.”

He was curious what she was going to do while out but he resisted the urge to interrogate her and simply nodded instead.

“Be careful. I don’t want to be forced to report to the Ministry about how you ended up flattened by Muggle furniture in America.” She shot him a playful look.

“They would just bring my dead body in for more questioning.”

Her laughter filled the room as she made her exit.

With Granger gone, Draco decided to tackle the bedframe first, removing all of the items from the box and laying them out. There was a small bag of screws and a piece of curved metal that was apparently used to twist the screws into place. As he opened the instruction manual, he found himself wishing he had a radio to fill the silence of the room.

He made quick work of the bed frame, only having to redo one of the side pieces of wood when he accidentally screwed it on upside down. He assembled the canopy portion and attached it to the bedframe with no problems. Upon its completion, a sudden desire to have curtains for the canopy, reminiscent of his time back at Hogwarts, washed over him.

He reminisced about the hours he used to spend in his secluded space within the curtains of the Slytherin dorm room. There, he would read by the glow of Lumos or practice Occlumency. In the later years, Theo and Blaise would squeeze into the small bed with him, casting silencing spells so that Draco could discuss his worries about the Dark Lord and his concerns for his parents in private. His heart ached at the memory; he missed those vulnerable moments with them. As the War escalated, he began pulling away, and after the War, he found it difficult to be open with them about his emotions.

The physical work had him sweating so he took a short break to change out of his hoodie and into the white short sleeve shirt he had purchased. He debated with himself for a moment before deciding to leave the Dark Mark on display. It was just him and Granger in the house, and she was aware of its presence. Her nonchalance in the clothing store indicated that it likely wouldn't bother her, so he hoped it would remain inconsequential.

He was enjoying the physicality of doing the work without magic so before he turned to building the bedside table, he moved the mattress into place, grunting under the weight of it but succeeding without problem. He made the bed himself and was embarrassed when he realized it was the first time he had ever made a bed without the assistance of a house elf or magic.

With the bed completely assembled and dressed, he laid out all of the pieces of the bedside table and could already feel a headache coming on when he realized it was much more complicated than the bed frame. Why did he have to assemble the drawers himself? The struggle through the instruction manual led to growing frustration. The small screws seemed to have a personal vendetta, repeatedly falling from his grasp and forcing him to chase them across the hardwood floors. Any sense of accomplishment waned, replaced by an escalating fury. After what felt like an eternity of battling, the drawers were eventually pieced together, but the last screw needed to complete the bedside table was nowhere to be seen.

A thorough search through the scattered boxes yielded no stray screws. Multiple sweeps of the room were made, each time hoping to discover a missed screw. But as he searched, he found nothing.

“f*cking hell!” He erupted, his patience depleted. He reached for his wand. “ Accio three-quarter inch screw.” He was bitter as he cast, feeling defeated that he was resorting to magic.

The initial casting brought no screw to his hand, so he repeated the spell with heightened intensity, “ Accio three-quarter inch screw!” A faint sound emanated from somewhere within the room. Fueled by his anger, he yelled once more, “ ACCIO THREE-QUARTER INCH SCREW!”

Suddenly a screw hurtled into his hand, and a triumphant grin broke across his face but his triumph was short-lived as the side of the bed sagged. The screw he now held was the very one that anchored the side plank to the footboard. Its absence caused the entire bottom right corner of the bed to collapse along with the mattress with a resounding thud.

“You f*cking wanker!”

His tantrum was interrupted by a snigg*ring noise coming from behind him and he whirled around, being greeted by Granger leaning against the doorway. Her shoulders were shaking with laughter and her hand was covering her mouth as if she had been trying to muffle the sounds. He glared at her and noticed a movement at her feet–the beast was there, his tail swishing as he observed Draco.

“f*ck off.” He hissed at the cat, he hated the way the cat looked at him so smugly.

“Oh, come on, Malfoy. He’s not doing anything.” She barely managed her words through her laughter.

“Look at his face, he’s taunting me! He probably swiped the blasted screw.” His frustration only deepened as Crookshanks strolled away, headed for the staircase. “How long have you been here?” He asked suspiciously.

“Just a few minutes.” The tone of her voice and the smirk that formed on her face confirmed that she had probably witnessed his entire tantrum, “Do you want me to finish it up for you with magic?” She offered sympathetically.

He resisted the urge to deny the help and finish it the Muggle way but he was at the end of his rope. “Fine.” He conceded, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hands as if he could dispel his mental exhaustion.

A flick of her wand and the bed regained its proper form. The assembled drawers slid seamlessly into their designated spots within the bedside table. A transfigured screw materialized from the metal tool, finding its rightful place and finally completing the bedside table.

“I almost finished it. They didn’t give me enough screws.” He mumbled in annoyance.

“I gathered that much.” She flashed him a smile and gestured towards the stairs with a move of her head, “I got Harper’s Cafe and coffee while I was out, it’s downstairs if you want to have our first meal at the table.”

His previous frustration dissipated with the mention of Harper’s, “Did you get me chili?”

They made their way downstairs where Granger had placed the takeaway containers on the marble table. He was ecstatic to find out that she had bought him a bowl of chili, a burger with chips, and an iced chai tea latte from the coffee shop. The table was long but she had placed their meals so they were across from each other on the shorter sides and before she even sat down on the opposite side of him, he had already begun eating his chili.

“I think you should go into carpentry.” Granger announced before she took a sip of her coffee, effectively hiding the smirk that was plastered on her face.

He glared up at her in between bites, “I think you should have warned me about how hard it was going to be. Why would they make you build drawers? It’s evil.”

“I did warn you.” She countered, raising her eyebrow as she began eating.

“I distinctly remember you saying ‘it’s not that hard’.”

“Hmm, I suppose I did say that.”

“What did you do while you were out?” He had been so preoccupied building but he knew it had been a few hours and suspected it was around three or four in the afternoon.

“I went to the bookstore-”

“Without me?” He cut her off.

“I didn’t buy anything and it was just the small one in the town square.” She responded defensively.

“You left me here to suffer while you browsed books? I’m wounded.” He said it in a light tone but he was actually slightly hurt that she hadn’t included him. He enjoyed their time at the bookstore the day before.

She rolled her eyes, retorting, “Anyways, I went to the bookstore, the grocery store, Harper’s, and the coffee shop.”

“What did you get at the grocery store?”

“The worker at the bookstore told me the rain is going to stop and it should be pretty clear tonight so I decided we’re going to have a bonfire. I went by the store to get some firewood and stuff to make s’mores.”

“What’s mores?”

“They’re called s’mores.” She clarified, “And you’ll see later.”

“I haven’t had a bonfire in a long time.” He admitted, remembering the bonfires he would have with Theo, Blaise, and Pansy during the mild summer nights at the Manor. They used to sneak bottles of his father’s Firewhisky out to the forest’s edge and drink while the fire would dance.

“I haven’t either and the last time I did they were small campfires when we were on the run in the forest. We never really got to enjoy them, we just made them to cook food and then put them out immediately so we wouldn’t attract attention if the wards failed.” She stopped herself, her eyes lowered as she moved her food around. Draco watched as a small frown formed on her lips.

He had the urge to comfort her but instead he attempted to change the subject, “Can you see the stars out here?”

“I’ve seen glimpses between the clouds but there haven’t been any clear nights since I got here.” Her tone was more subdued, clear of any of the lingering amusem*nt from before.

He just nodded in understanding, registering the change in her mood at the mention of her time on the run. He wanted to ask questions, the trio never spoke about the time in the forest aside from bits and pieces he had gathered from conversations he overheard when Potter and Weasley would visit her in her office. But he ignored his urges and continued eating his meal, uneasy in the silence that didn’t feel as comfortable as usual.

“We should get pissed tonight.” He announced, deciding he would distract her from whatever memories were brought up by the conversation.

She looked at him wearily, “Why?”

“Bonfires are no fun without alcohol.” He said in the matter-of-fact tone she would adopt when explaining things to him, “Everyone knows that.”

After a few hours of reading and light conversation, Draco and Granger sat on their transfigured chairs separated by a few feet of space, their makeshift fire pit sat on the edge of the backyard, giving them a view of the darkening ocean beyond the flickering flames. The light gray clouds were still obscuring the sky but they seemed to be dissipating as they made their way overhead. The sun was setting, the light slowly vanishing as the flames grew stronger.

Draco was buzzing with excitement, he had convinced her that they couldn’t drink their alcohol out of glasses, it made more sense to drink straight from the bottle. He held the whiskey bottle in one hand, taking his first swig before passing it to her.

She was still annoyed at his insistence, “Why do we have to drink it this way? I have perfectly good glasses in the house.” She reiterated, taking the bottle begrudgingly.

“Live a little, Granger.” He smirked at her as she took her first sip and scowled, “It’s the Slytherin summer tradition.”

She looked at him with a curious look, “The Slytherin summer tradition?”

“Yes, we used to steal bottles of Firewhisky from the cellar and sneak out of the Manor to have bonfires.”

“Who’s ‘we’?” She asked as she handed the bottle back to him.

“Theo, Blaise, Pansy, and I.” He responded honestly as he raised the bottle to his lips once more.

“Do you still talk to them?” She schooled her tone to be casual but he could tell she was forcing the nonchalance.

He scoffed, “Subtle, Granger.” He thrust the bottle towards her, “Yes I still talk to them.”

“Zabini is the arsehole friend then.” She said with confidence as she took another drink.

“I never said that.”

“No but he was a prat at Hogwarts and I can’t imagine the other two making your last name ‘Granger’.” She watched the flames with a look of contemplation, “What’s Parkinson up to? I haven’t seen her around since your trial.”

“She left wizarding London. She’s off in Muggle New York right now working on a fashion line.”

“Really?” She asked, meeting his eyes with raised eyebrows.

“Yes, she works in New York and London. Denounced her family name and everything.”

She smiled deviously, “Good for her.”

He snatched the bottle from her hands, narrowing his eyes at her. She was far too pleased by the information. “You’re getting off on this, aren’t you?” He drank deeply from the bottle.

“What?!” Her body stiffened and her eyes shot to his, her cheeks seemed to flush in the warm light of the fire.

“Purebloods embracing Muggle culture. You’re practically salivating right now.”

A slightly awkward laugh escaped her lips, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly, “A little bit.” She admitted, “Pureblood culture is so stiff and outdated.”

He decided to tease her, determined to get a rise out of her, “So that’s why you like having me around, you’re getting off on exposing me to the Muggle world.” He leaned closer to her as he spoke, his voice low.

“Stop saying I’m getting off.” She snapped, a renewed flush tinting her cheeks as she reclaimed the bottle from his hand. “Let’s talk about something else.” She demanded before returning her gaze to the fire as she gulped the whiskey down. The crackling fire filled the silence as he watched her.

She was practically squirming at his choice of words and he was relishing in the reaction she was giving. He wanted to continue making her blush but didn’t want to push too far so he just sighed in defeat, “Fine.” He would have to find another way to achieve it.

She wiped her mouth, her movements sloppy as she handed the bottle to him, avoiding his eyes. He looked down at her outstretched arm and intentionally brushed his hand against hers softly as he took the bottle. The contact sent a shock down his arm and she quickly pulled her hand back.

He watched her curiously as he took another sip, the warmth of the alcohol finally beginning to seep in. She didn’t seem revolted by his touch, her reaction was something else he couldn’t quite place. He knew he was pushing his luck but he wanted to tease her more, keep making her squirm so he quickly concocted a proposition.

“How about we take turns asking questions? If you don’t want to answer, you have to take a drink.”

Chapter 18: ivy

Chapter Text

Oh, I can't

Stop you putting roots in my dreamland

My house of stone, your ivy grows

And now I'm covered

In you

ivy - taylor swift

Granger snorted, “Absolutely not.”

“Come on, Granger. We never got to have the teenage experience, let’s play an innocent drinking game and get sloshed.” Draco pleaded, offering the bottle to her.

She looked down at the bottle wearily, her body still stiff from her reaction to their physical contact. Draco could still sense the lingering buzz of electricity from their touch, but it now blended with the warmth that was spreading through his veins thanks to the whiskey.

Her eyes shot up to meet his with a hint of uncertainty that quickly switched to determination as she accepted the bottle from him, grasping the bottle far away from where his hand was resting, “Fine.” She conceded, “But no questions about the War.”

Draco watched as she tilted her head back to take a drink, her hair cascading back and revealing her neck. There, at the juncture of neck and shoulder, he noticed a solitary freckle. Internally cursing, he realized he had a new foe to contend with. He already struggled to keep his gaze away from the freckle adjacent to her lip.

After finishing her drink, he took the bottle from her and placed it on the ground between them. She stood up and rotated her chair so she was facing him. “My neck hurts from looking over at you.” She explained before he could ask.

He mimicked her so they were now facing each other, the half drunk bottle of whiskey on the ground between them and the raging fire to his left. The fire lit Granger’s face in a soft light, causing her eyes to dance with the flames and he caught himself before he could continue to be distracted.

“I’ll go first. Why did my wording bother you so much?”

“It didn’t bother me.” She insisted, but he could tell she was lying by the slight rise in her voice.

Narrowing his eyes, he scrutinized her, his gaze searching for signs of deception. “You’re lying.”

She huffed, crossing her arms defensively, “I’m not lying. It’s just an odd thing to say, I don’t ‘get off’ on you experiencing Muggle culture, I just enjoy it.” She replied casually, though there was an underlying desperation in her words.

“Sure but usually when people say someone is getting off on something it’s synonymous with enjoyment. So it’s just interesting that you’ve had such an emotional reaction to it. Defensiveness usually means you’re guilty of whatever you’re being accused of.” He teased her, savoring the way the anger seemed to simmer behind her eyes, “Therefore, I can only assume by your lying and defensiveness that you indeed are getting off on it.”

“I am not .”

“You’re lying, you have to drink.” He sang in a low tone, gesturing towards the bottle.

“That’s not a part of the rules. The rules were to answer the question or drink, I answered the question.” She said matter-of-factly.

He rolled his eyes, “Fine, new amendment to the rules, you have to answer the question truthfully or drink. You get a pass this time but if you lie again you have to drink.”

Ignoring his taunts, she went straight into her own question. “What’s the worst thing you and the Slytherins did besides stealing alcohol?”

“During our summers at the Manor or just in general?”

She contemplated it for a moment, “During the summers.”

His mouth quirked into a smirk, remembering all of the times his father had told them off for getting into trouble, “Well Blaise was sent to St. Mungo’s one time.” Granger’s eyebrows raised at that, “It was after fourth year, we were drunk from our bonfire and decided to play ‘truth or dare’ back in the Manor. Pansy dared Blaise to touch one of the cursed heirlooms in my father’s office. Of course, father had wards so he knew immediately when we entered his office but he got there too late. Blaise had chosen a mirror that was always whispering in the corner, as soon as he touched it, it shattered and the shards managed to cut all of us but the main issue was the mist that was released from it. It wrapped around Blaise and paralyzed him so he had to be taken to St. Mungo’s to reverse it.”

“That’s horrible.” Her eyebrows were knit in concern.

“It was easily fixed, it was the least sinister of the items which is why I didn’t intervene.” Draco was still smirking as he spoke. “Father was so angry he wouldn’t let us have our cuts healed so now we all have matching scars from it.”

“Where’s your scar?” She asked curiously.

He leaned forward, “I have two, one here,” He pointed to his bare left arm, where a small scar ran a few inches above the crease of his elbow, “and the other is here.” He pushed his long hair to the side and turned his head to the right slightly so she could see the small scar that was visible on the side of his forehead.

She leaned in too, her eyes tracing the path of the scar on his face before lowering to his lips. He caught the subtle movement out of the corner of his eye before she quickly looked away and settled back into her chair.

He returned his head to its original position, “What’s the worst thing you did at Hogwarts?” He knew the Golden Trio had caused a lot of havoc over the years but he was curious to know what other things Granger may have gotten up to.

“I’ll tell you but you have to promise to not report me.” She said, that mischievous glint in her eye.

His interest was piqued, “I promise not to report you.” He responded quickly.

“I kept Reta Skeeter in a jar for a few days.” She was smiling proudly as she admitted it.

“Merlin’s tit*, why? And how?”

“She was an unregistered Animagus so when she was in beetle form I trapped her in a jar. She was writing terrible stories about me and Harry, as you know, and so I took matters into my own hands.”

“And she just didn’t do anything in retaliation?” He asked, incredulous. Knowing Rita Skeeter, he found it hard to believe that she hadn't fought back after being captured.

“She was unregistered so I just threatened to report her if she said anything about what I did or if she continued to write her garbage articles.”

“You blackmailed her?” She just nodded in response and he chuckled, “That is so Slytherin of you.” As Granger let out a melodic laugh, he reached for the bottle. Bending over to pick it up, he realized he was a bit tipsy. Raising it slightly, he said, “I’ll drink to that.” He winked before taking a hearty swig from the bottle.

The burn was still traveling down his throat when she asked her next question, “Who was your first kiss?”

He froze, his hand gripping the bottle tightly. There was no way he would reveal that information to Hermione. His first kiss had happened with Theo one night in the Slytherin dorms when they were all bored and playing truth or dare. Blaise had dared them, and later confessed that he just wanted to test if Theo was open to kissing boys. Apart from that, he had never kissed anyone.

He glared at her, raising the bottle again and taking a long sip.

“Seriously?” She asked, astonished, “You don’t want to tell me who your first kiss was?” He shook his head as he swallowed.

“It’s a long story that would take us all night to unpack.” He said, refusing to spend the night discussing the complexities of Theo and Blaise’s denial. “Which Hogwarts professor would you shag?”

She pondered the question, her gaze fixed on the fire. He observed the flush returning to her cheeks. She turned to him and reached for the bottle.

“Is it that bad that you have to drink?” He questioned, his mind running through the list of professors from their years at Hogwarts. Perhaps she had a thing for Quirrell; he could understand her not wanting to admit that.

She swirled the liquid in the bottle, a half-smile forming on one side of her lips. “I doubt you would want to hear about all the things I would do with Uncle Sev.” She said suggestively before taking a deep swig from the bottle.

“Uncle Sev?!” He practically shrieked, “You hated the man but you’re telling me you would shag him?” She opened her mouth to say something but he quickly cut her off before she could, “Nevermind, I do not want to know.”

Setting the bottle back down on the ground, she swayed slightly as she laughed. “What can I say? I love a man who broods.”

He couldn't focus on her words, his mind bombarding him with images he had no desire to imagine. He shook his head as if to physically dispel the intrusive thoughts. When he opened his eyes again, Hermione was watching him with an amused look, her gaze somewhat unfocused as she reclined in her chair.

“I will never forgive you for putting those images in my head.” He hissed.

She just laughed, “Okay, my turn. What student in our year would you shag?”

He leaned back, considering the list of Slytherins, most of whom were either friends or insufferable Purebloods who only cared about his name. The lone bearable Ravenclaw was Luna, who happened to be a distant cousin, so she was quickly dismissed. He couldn't recall any of the Hufflepuffs' names, so he turned his thoughts to the Gryffindors. They were all undesirable choices until he reached Granger.

Would he want to shag her? He observed her, her hair dancing in the wind, a relaxed smile on her face. He could picture himself leaning in, caressing her neck with his hands. Despite the night's chill, he imagined her feeling warm, and he would run his fingers through her hair before pulling her close, capturing her lips with his. His cheeks grew warm as he imagined her leaning into his touch, her mouth moving against his.

He snapped out of his reverie, his heart racing as he realized he was quite receptive to the idea of shagging her. His thoughts had taken a suggestive turn simply from the notion of kissing her.

She looked back at him expectantly and he reached for the bottle, using its contents to momentarily numb his thoughts as the liquid scorched his throat. Placing the bottle down, he realized it was his turn to pose a question.

“What’s a secret you’ve never told anyone?” He smirked at her, feeling like he had found another question that she would refuse to answer.

She sat up from her lounged position, biting her lip as she watched the fire as if the answer was hidden in the crackling flames.

“I’ll tell you but you can’t tell anyone.” She stated firmly, leveling him with a serious look that might have been intimidating if not for the slight slur in her words.

“We’re well past that, Granger. I won’t tell anyone anything you say to me.” He responded earnestly, bracing himself for whatever confession was about to come.

“Okay,” She took a deep breath, “I shagged Charlie.”

“Okay? Who’s Charlie?” He was confused, she acted like it was the most significant thing in the world but he couldn’t think of a single person with the name Charlie.

“Charlie Weasley, Ron’s brother.” She whispered it but her drunken whisper was more of a stage whisper, comically loud. He remembered Weasley boasting during their fourth year about his older brother, the dragon tamer, aiding in the Triwizard Tournament task.

Draco couldn’t help the laugh that exploded out of his chest, “Holy f*ck, Granger, you shagged the Weasel’s brother? When?”

“Stop laughing, it’s serious.” She whined, a disgruntled look manifesting on her face.

“When?” He asked again, unable to contain his glee at the revelation.

“It was the day before the Ministry fell, the night before Bill and Fleur’s wedding.” She groaned when she observed his shocked expression, grabbing the bottle. “I’m drinking as punishment for my crimes.” She declared solemnly, the bottle's lip pressed against her mouth.

He spoke as she drowned herself in whiskey, “I’m impressed. The world was falling apart and you had the time to fall into an illicit affair right before sh*t hit the fan.” He teased.

“I didn’t plan on doing it.” She muttered, glaring at the liquid in the bottle.

“Have you really never told anyone that?”

She shook her head, “I couldn’t exactly confess to anyone that I shagged Charlie in the kitchen at the Burrow, it would make us look bad and ruin family dinners forever.”

“In Molly Weasley’s kitchen?” A wide smile spread across Draco's face, so intense it felt as though it might be permanent. “You shagged the Weasel’s older and hotter dragon tamer brother on Molly Weasley’s counters?” She nodded in shame, her eyes still on the bottle.

“Granger, you are my hero.” He said seriously.

Meeting his gaze, she seemed to relax a bit. “Bugger off, Malfoy. It’s nothing to write home about.”

“If I didn’t respect you so much I would be writing the Daily Prophet right now. It’s the greatest thing I’ve ever heard.” Though a hint of jealousy lingered over Charlie's feat, the knowledge that she and the Weasel would soon be on the run together with no inkling of the affair lessened the bitterness.

“Are you getting off on this?” She had a lazy smile on her face as she asked it but her drunkenness made her voice sound more husky than usual and he fought the arousal that flooded through his body.

“Oh, absolutely. And I am honoured that I am the only person you have divulged this information with.”

“I have my next question. Why do you still call me Granger?”

The question caught him off guard. “It’s what I’ve always called you.”

“But we’re friends now, you should call me by my first name.”

Her conviction surprised him. She had unilaterally decided their friendship, stating it as if it were an established fact. Pushing aside his astonishment, he responded, his heart racing slightly. “Calling someone by their first name is quite serious in Pureblood tradition. I will call you by your first name if you are sure that you want to be my friend because it’s something I take very seriously.”

“Do you want to be my friend?” There was a sobering vulnerability in her question.

He met her eyes, “I do want to be your friend.” He answered honestly, “If you will have me.”

Her lazy smile returned, “Okay, Draco .” Her voice was a soft purr as she spoke his name.

“Okay, Hermione.” He replied, unable to suppress the upward curve of his lips as he spoke her name for the first time, free from the façade of pretense.

Abruptly, she sat upright, causing the bottle in her hand to slosh violently, exclaiming, "Merlin! I nearly forgot about the s’mores." Rising to her feet, she swayed unsteadily.

The proximity between Hermione and the fire made him uneasy, prompting him to stand up as well. He extended a hand to create a barrier between her and the blazing flames. “Be careful, the last thing we need is your hair catching on fire.”

“I’m fine .” She slurred, giving him an irritated look and carelessly dropping the bottle onto the ground before embarking on her journey toward the house.

He was feeling hazy as well but he still trusted himself more than Hermione when it came to not falling so he followed behind her towards the back door. Once they departed from the fire's warmth, the chilly night air enveloped him, and he regretted not changing out of his short-sleeve shirt.

“Why are you following me?” She mumbled, her gaze narrowing as she glanced back at him.

He rolled his eyes, “I need a co*ke and I don’t trust you stumbling around the house by yourself.”

“Stumbling?” She muttered, pushing open the door. “I’m walking perfectly normal right now.”

They stepped inside through the back door and proceeded to the kitchen. Hermione grabbed the bag of supplies, while he retrieved a co*ke from the fridge, his steps clumsy as he moved through the kitchen. As he turned around with the co*ke in hand, Hermione was looking at him with a slightly crooked grin.

“What?” He asked defensively.

“You’re drunk.”

He laughed at her surprised tone, “Of course I’m drunk, we’ve almost finished off that whole bottle.”

She simply hummed as they made their way back to the bonfire. She repositioned their chairs to face the fire again, and he feigned ignorance of the fact that the chairs were now only inches apart. He settled into his seat, all the while keeping a watchful eye on Hermione as she did the same, ensuring none of her unruly curls came too close to the flames.

“Okay, s’mores time.” She announced, “So you have to put the marshmallow on a stick and then you cook it near the fire until it's a little brown and melted and then you put it on a graham cracker with chocolate.” Her words tumbled out in a flurry, her mouth moving faster than Draco's thoughts.

Struggling to follow her explanation, he simply mimicked her actions. He impaled the white, fluffy mass on the stick she handed him and set a cracker on his leg, topped with two pieces of chocolate. Observing her hold the marshmallow near the flame, he quickly emulated her, his full concentration on his own task.

He knew that melting was the primary goal, so he rotated it with care, allowing all sides to turn a bit brown. After a few minutes, Hermione muttered something to herself. Turning towards her, he inquired, "What did you say?"”

She sighed, “It’s on fire.” She said louder, watching her marshmallow. Following her line of sight, he was greeted by the sight of her marshmallow deep in the fire and fully engulfed in flames.

“Move it.” He hissed, swatting her arm to prompt action.

She moved the burning marshmallow out of the fire slowly, a frown embedded on her face. “It’s burning.”

He was panicking at the sight of the flaming object inches away from her face as she examined it so he acted quickly, blowing on it to extinguish the flame. “Merlin, Hermione, why were you just sitting there letting it burn?” He hissed, his heart racing from the ordeal.

“It’s ruined.” She said softly, completely unaffected by the whole event.

“It’s just a little crispy.” He attempted to reassure her, but as he looked at the now charred marshmallow, a laugh bubbled up from within him. She gazed at the remnants of her marshmallow with a sense of resignation, prompting him to quickly amend, "I'll take that one; you can have mine."

“No. It’s your first s’more, it can’t be burnt.” She said with determination, pulling herself together enough to put the crispy marshmallow on her graham cracker and placing the other one on top of it, completing the s’more.

He mirrored her actions with his perfectly cooked marshmallow, raising the makeshift treat to his lips with curiosity. Taking a bite, he was instantly smitten. The sweetness and warmth enveloped his senses, and he savored the flavor as he swallowed. He turned to Hermione, intending to share his delight, but she was busy chewing, a slightly discontented expression on her face.

"Here, try mine," he offered, extending his s'more to her while taking hers from her hand.

She regarded him warily. "You don't have to eat that one; it's too burnt."

He gestured for her to taste the one he'd prepared and waited patiently until she complied. Her frown transformed into a lazy grin as she spoke between bites, "I forgot how amazing s'mores taste."

Draco began enjoying the s'more she'd made, and while its flavor was different, carrying a hint of the bonfire's charred essence, he found himself watching Hermione with a growing fondness as she heartily devoured the one he'd assembled.

He found that he enjoyed the burnt one even more.

Chapter 19: fallingforyou

Chapter Text

Soon you will be mine, oh, but I want you now (I want you now)

When the smoke is in your eyes, you look so alive

Do you fancy sitting down with me maybe

'Cause you're all I need

According to your heart

My place is not deliberate

Feeling of your arms

I don't want to be your friend, I want to kiss your neck

Don't you see me I

I think I'm falling, I'm falling for you

fallingforyou - the 1975

Draco and Hermione found themselves nestled by the crackling fire, indulging in s'mores. With each exchange, Draco replaced his perfectly roasted treat with Hermione's charred version, a playful ritual that eventually led to both of them nursing stomachaches.

“I love s’mores.” Draco mumbled, sinking deeper into his seat as he abandoned the roasting stick in defeat.

Hermione responded with a contented hum, retrieving their discarded whiskey bottle from the ground and taking a sip. “You should probably slow down on the whiskey.” He teased, taking the bottle from her and pouring some into his partially consumed co*ke can.

“You should probably slow down on being a pompous prat.” She responded with no venom, her eyes twinkling in the glow of the raging fire. She took the bottle back from him, cradling it in her lap.

He smirked, “Where’s the fun in that?”

The night was full of noises–the crackling of the wood, the wind rustling the trees, the ocean crashing below them. He was enthralled by the liveliness of Hermione’s backyard, the Manor was elegant and serene but there was something about the cozy, rainy atmosphere of the cliffside that settled his soul.

As a comfortable silence enveloped them, Draco sipped his co*ke, his gaze fixed on the towering trees. Suddenly, he noticed the sky had cleared, revealing a brilliant moon and a tapestry of constellations, their glow painting a breathtaking panorama above the ocean.

“I haven’t seen the stars in so long.” He said in awe, completely enthralled by the expansive sky above.

“I haven’t either.”

“I used to love going to the Astronomy Tower.” He didn’t know why he was suddenly confessing this information but he blamed the copious amount of whiskey coursing through his blood.

“Why?”

“The Black family liked to name their children after constellations and my mother did the same with me. I used to spend hours finding the constellations and stars referenced in the family tree.” He could end his explanation there but he was compelled to continue, “When everything was going to sh*t in sixth year, I would go to the Astronomy Tower to calm down and look at the stars. As I got closer to finishing my task, I began thinking about throwing myself off the tower. Since then I really haven’t been able to enjoy stargazing in the same way.” His admission weighed heavily in the air between them.

Hermione responded softly, “Well, I’m happy you didn’t do that.”

“Me too.” Draco admitted, shifting his gaze to meet Hermione's. Their eyes locked, and a small, relieved smile graced her lips. They remained close, just a foot apart, enveloped in the fragrant scents of lavender and parchment that had replaced the bonfire's smoky aroma. It felt intimate, reminiscent of their encounter in the shoe store, with Hermione gazing up at him, her vulnerability shining through. Eager to dispel the newfound tension, he broke the silence, “How else would I have the opportunity to come annoy the hell out of you one last time?”

Her laughter was soft as she turned her attention back to the dwindling fire, raising the bottle to her lips once more. They stayed by the fire until it was only embers, drinking and chatting about his progress in ‘Pride and Prejudice’ until they were barely keeping their eyes open.

When they headed upstairs to retire for the night, Draco and Hermione stood across from each other in the hallway, giggling in the aftermath of their struggle up the stairs.

“Goodnight, Draco.” Her eyes were glassy from the alcohol as she met his eyes, her hand hovering over the door handle to her room.

“Goodnight, Hermione.” He responded, his heart pounding in the tension that permeated between them. They faced each other in the narrow corridor; a mixture of proximity and alcohol coursing through his veins made it difficult to concentrate on anything else but that returning tension. He thought it was a one time event in the shoe store but it seemed to be occurring more frequently and he wasn’t sure why.

She just smiled lazily at him before disappearing into her room.

In the safety of his room, he unpacked his newly purchased Muggle clothes and shoes before slipping on his silk green pajama set. As he made his way to his bed, he fumbled with his mobile phone but as he pressed buttons on it nothing happened.

Theo had mentioned something about needing to charge it, but he had been too preoccupied with the last name situation to pay close attention. Frustrated, he set the lifeless mobile phone on the bedside table, deciding that he would seek Hermione's advice on how to charge it in the morning.

As he laid in the dark room, all he could focus on was Hermione a few feet away in her own bedroom. He wondered if she could feel the shift that had happened between them again. The first shift felt easy, like falling asleep, but this new shift, this new tension, had hit him like a train.

He allowed his mind to wander, envisioning an alternate life where he could remain by Hermione's side, sharing laughter around bonfires without the looming specter of probation and the expectations of his parents awaiting his return to the wizarding world. He was so conflicted, torn between the desire to abandon everything for a life in the Muggle realm and the responsibility to mend his fractured life in the magical world. He knew what he needed to do but still he let himself imagine what could be if circ*mstances were different for them.

The smell of toasted bread and eggs filled the downstairs as he finished plating the scrambled eggs. He had woken up in the early hours of the morning, his stomach demanding food to help him overcome the hangover. He had never prepared breakfast before, but the thought of waiting all day for Hermione to awaken was unbearable. So, he set out to replicate the morning routine she had followed the day before.

He ended up burning four pieces of toast before he figured out how to properly use the toasting machine she had on the counter. The eggs were surprisingly easy, so easy he was also able to make two cups of tea at the same time, one for him and one for Hermione.

Since he was unsure of how long it would be until she awoke, he set her plate and tea on her side table in the living room, under a warming and stasis charm so they would still be fresh when she did come downstairs.

His magic seemed to rejoice as he cast and he realized he had barely even touched his wand the last few days. He had never gone more than a few hours without magic except when Potter had taken his wand and even then he had a replacement that he was able to wield temporarily. His magic was pouring out of him in greater force, as if it was ready to explode from disuse. He knew he needed to start casting more or he may start having bouts of unintentional magic, something he hasn’t had to worry about since he was a child.

He settled onto his loveseat, still dressed in his pajamas, and relished his culinary accomplishment. Savoring the perfectly acceptable eggs and toast, he finished his meal swiftly and decided to pass the time reading until Hermione awoke.

“Good morning.” Draco greeted, looking up from his book as Hermione descended the stairs. She was wearing her sweatpants and large crimson sleeping shirt again, a look of concern on her face.

“Why does it smell like burning?” Her eyes scanned the downstairs area, eventually settling on the plate of food.

“I burnt a few pieces of toast.” He admitted somewhat reluctantly.

“You made breakfast?” The surprise was evident in her voice.

He nodded, and she settled onto the couch, still appearing somewhat disoriented from sleep. She reached for the cup of tea he had prepared, taking a deep gulp and letting out a soft moan of satisfaction. He couldn't help but tense at the sound, trying to suppress the stirring of pleasure in his gut that the noise had ignited.

Knowing from experience that Hermione's morning grumpiness was legendary, Draco returned to his book, though he found it increasingly difficult to concentrate on the words. Instead, he kept stealing glances at her to gauge her reaction to the meal he had prepared.

After she had finally completed her meal and refilled her cup of tea, he decided it had been enough time to let her wake up fully. “What are we doing today?”

“I would like to do some work on the house later.”

“What kind of work?”

“I’ve been planning on building a greenhouse out back so I was thinking we could do that if you don’t mind helping. But not right now, I need to lay on the couch and rot for a few hours.” She held her hand up, summoning the book on trauma she had been working through. He took that as his queue to continue reading.

Rain fell heavily outside, its steady rhythm blending with the sound of the wind, creating the perfect ambiance for their quiet morning of reading. Their occasional conversations about their books provided a pleasant interruption to the otherwise peaceful scene.

“I just can’t believe that Charlotte would accept Mr. Collins’ proposal.” Draco was unhappy with the development, beginning to resent Charlotte for being so daft.

“She didn’t really have a choice.” Hermione responded.

“Mr. Collins is awful.” He grumbled, his displeasure evident. “Charlotte deserves better.”

“She does but it’s important in showing the difference between what is expected of Lizzie and what she does. Declining Mr. Collins proposal is significant, it was what she was expected to do since he would inherit their property and money. Charlotte is completely different, doing what is expected.”

“It’s dumb.” He said lamely, turning back to his book.

“Recovery can take place only within the context of relationships; it cannot occur in isolation.’ Do you think I did the wrong thing by coming here to be alone?” Hermione's voice held a note of desolation as she asked the question.

“I think you could find relationships here with the Muggles.” He answered honestly.

“I could but maybe I should have stayed and tried to mend the relationships I had. This book talks a lot about how relationships are the best way to mend your trauma and regain trust in humanity.” Her eyebrows were knit in concern.

“It’s hard to move on from the War when everything in the wizarding world is so tainted. You work in the Ministry where everything revolves around rebuilding after the War, your two best friends’ entire lives revolve around it as well. Being around a whole community of people unaffected by the War will make it easier to cope with what happened when you don’t have people trying to justify and excuse the things that happened. I think you did what was right for you and there’s no reason you couldn’t find that community here.” He tried to explain his reasoning and she seemed satisfied by his explanation, nodding and turning back to her book.

He couldn't help but reflect on how this concept applied to his own life. He recognized that he, too, was deeply scarred by the War and had been isolating himself from others, distancing himself from the Manor and turning down invitations from his friends. As he watched Hermione engrossed in her reading, he felt a growing longing for the connection he had with Theo and Blaise. He knew that when he inevitably returned to London he needed to start making amends and trying harder to move on. He just hoped that he wouldn't fall back into his old habits.

“Elizabeth denied his proposal?” He hissed, unable to bottle his reaction as he read.

Hermione smiled at him, “Yes.”

“Why?” He asked incredulously, “I mean I understand that he did some messed up things, meddling in Bingley’s business, the whole Wickham situation, but he’s filthy rich and she obviously is interested in him.”

“Just keep reading.”

“‘When trust is lost, traumatized people feel that they belong more to the dead than to the living.’” Hermione read aloud from her book, a troubled look painting her features.

“I don’t like your trauma book.” He announced, “It’s spooky and accurate and I feel personally attacked.”

Hermione hesitated for a moment before confessing, “It reminds me of our conversation before I left.”

He looked up from his book, finding her watching him with a look that seemed to portray her desire to talk. He cleared his throat, nodding as he set the book down on the side table so he could fully give her his attention. He was frozen, waiting for her to continue. He had wanted to confront her about her question for so long but now that she was inviting him to discuss it, he was nervous.

“Sorry that I sprang such a morbid question onto you out of nowhere.” She began slowly, “I was in a really dark place, I think I just wanted to see if I was the only person who felt that way.”

Do you ever wish you had just not made it to the other side of the War?

“Not to sound like you but you really don’t need to apologize for that.” He leveled her with a serious look, keeping eye contact as he spoke, “I could see how much you were struggling but I didn’t realize it was that bad. When you looked at me that day I could see the look in your eyes and knew that something wasn’t right. It reminded me of how I looked when I saw myself in the mirror.”

“I’m not great at asking for help.” That sad smile was on her face again and he realized how much he hated that look on her. She looked so defeated and resigned, he much preferred the way she would smirk at him when they were teasing each other or the candid smile that would transform her face when she was genuinely happy.

“That makes two of us, we’re more the suffer in silence type I suppose.” When she only hummed in agreement he mustered his courage, “Did you know what you were going to do that day when we had that conversation?”

“Yes. I cast the first compulsion at the Burrow after dinner, it was the only time everyone would be together at once. I knew I was going to go through with everything that night, I had the plane ticket and everything.”

He wanted to question her about the compulsions she had cast, about all of the details leading up to her disappearance but he knew that she wouldn’t want to talk about it. Instead, he decided to focus on that meeting the day before.

“There’s something else I wanted to ask about from that day but I don’t want you to take it the wrong way.” He spoke cautiously, “Weasley mentioned something in your office about how you weren’t supposed to be drinking, what was that about?”

She sighed, running her fingers through her disheveled curls, disrupting their otherwise tamed appearance. “I was drinking a lot. I wasn’t coping very well. I already was struggling with the survivor’s guilt from the War and some of the other things I was forced to do and endure but being constantly gaslit into staying with Ron set me over the edge. I had agreed to stop drinking so much but I was just trying to get him off my back for a few days while I planned everything.”

He had assumed as much but hearing her admit it was entirely different. The two of them were so similar it was beginning to scare him a bit.

“Have you been drinking a lot since coming here?” He asked curiously.

“The first week I was here I was drunk every night.” She admitted, avoiding his eyes, “Once I got the house I stopped drinking as much but since you’ve shown up I haven’t really wanted to get so drunk I forget who I am. I’m not sure why.”

The way she was looking at him made him nervous and he found himself speaking, “Last night was the first time in years I’ve gotten drunk just to have fun. I usually get drunk to release all my residual anger.”

She seemed shocked as she responded, “That’s the way I am too. I have so much anger and it’s like without the alcohol I’m unable to feel it completely.”

“We’re a lot more similar than I thought.”

“We are.” She said, looking at him in the soft morning light streaming through the windows. She opened her mouth as if to say something more but stopped herself. After swallowing, she asked, “Are you ready to work on the greenhouse?”

“How do you know so much about environmental charms?” Hermione asked with curiosity, her eyes fixed on Draco as his spell settled in the air.

“I used to help my mother in the greenhouse.” He replied, wiping the sweat from his brow in the humid atmosphere.

They had constructed the small greenhouse against the tree line in her backyard, nestled between the trees and the fire pit they had created the day before. After matching the greenhouse to the exterior of her house, she had cast an extension charm, creating a vast interior space for her plants. His body seemed relieved that he was using magic again and he volunteered to help with the environmental charms for the different sections so he could continue releasing the dormant magic. Hermione was levitating bags of soil and small bags of seeds out of her seemingly endless beaded bag, lining the front wall with everything before she began dumping soil into the plant beds that he had already finished his spellwork on.

“How is your mother?” Hermione inquired, her tone gentle and genuinely interested. Her question, which used to irk him during their Ministry days, now elicited none of the usual resentment.

“She’s doing as well as she can.” He responded sincerely. “She’s lonely but her and my father have been keeping themselves busy at the Manor. They’ve been renovating the whole thing.”

“Why didn’t they just move to one of the other Malfoy or Black properties?”

“Father’s house arrest is at the Manor. He requested to be allowed to stay somewhere else but I think it was their way of punishing him. Making him stay in that house longer, remembering all the things that happened in the Manor.” He tried to push down the anger that was rising on behalf of his parents, “I think they were hoping it would drive him to insanity.”

Hermione sighed, her back against the raised plant bed as she wiped her dirt-streaked hands on her jeans. “I wish I could say that they wouldn’t do that but that’s something the Ministry would do.”

He nodded, watching her cross her arms. They had both changed into short sleeves and jeans to work in the greenhouse so her scar was on display, the word carved into her skin was harsh against her soft skin. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, a few strands framing her face damp with sweat from their exertions. He found himself entranced by her beauty, her flushed cheeks and her eyes shimmering with questions he was certain she was contemplating.

“Why does your mother stay? She isn’t on house arrest.”

“Father asked her to leave, to go stay with some of their old friends in France but she refused to leave him alone.” Draco revealed, recalling their heated arguments about it. He remembered his mother's unwavering determination and how his father had sulked around the house for days when she won and insisted she was staying. “They’re so disgustingly in love I think my mother would sooner resurrect the Dark Lord than spend months away from my father.”

“Really?” Hermione's tone held a touch of disbelief, her eyebrows arching.

“Oh yeah, they never moved out of their lovesick teenager phase. They’re obsessed with each other, it’s quite disturbing.”

She was smiling softly, “It’s nice to know there’s some emotions under Lucius Malfoy’s exterior.”

“He’s the most emotional man I know.” He admitted, his heart surging with emotions, “Everything he did was to protect my mother, it’s why he doesn’t show remorse. He feels like he did what he had to do.”

“That makes sense.” Hermione mused, her expression thoughtful. “Most Pureblood marriages that I’ve seen and read about seem to be borne out of convenience. Like in ‘Pride and Prejudice’ love as motivation for marriage seems to be rare.”

“It is. The Malfoys have a knack for loving deeply, my father begged my grandfather to allow him to pursue my mother back at Hogwarts.” He spoke with fondness, unable to hide the warmth he felt for his parents. “She wanted nothing to do with him, he was too pretentious and arrogant according to her. She asked her father to refuse the offer when it was made but my father worked hard to win her over.”

“That reminds me of my parents.” Hermione confessed, her smile turning wistful. “My dad pursued my mom throughout college but she had no interest, she wanted to focus on her career.”

Her admission weighed heavily in the air. He knew she had Obliviated them thanks to Theo’s research but she hadn’t mentioned them before outside of that brief mention when she talked about sugar being bad for dental health. The sadness in her eyes ran deep, and he couldn't help but imagine how devastating it must have been to lose her parents on top of all the other atrocities of the War.

“I heard about what you had to do.” He spoke delicately, ignoring the confused look she sent him. “I’m sorry about your parents but I think you may be relieved to know that the Dark Lord did try to track them down. They were a top priority so you did the right thing. If you hadn't hid them they would have been tortured and killed.”

Hermione's gaze dropped to the concrete floor, a pained smile tugging at her lips as a solitary tear slipped down her face. He wanted to close the distance between them, wipe away her tears, and offer comfort, but he held back. He simply watched her, the only sound being the rain against the glass panels surrounding them.

She eventually looked up, quickly wiping her face. “Let’s finish up our work here.”

The greenhouse was impressive, the outside was small but charming, the building was arched in the same way that the house’s windows were arched and the framing was black and worn like the house. The inside was expansive, the cement a dark gray and all of the raised plant beds were dark wood, engraved with the names of the plants housed within. Sunlight filtered through the glass, casting varying degrees of illumination on different sections. Thanks to Draco's spellwork, some parts were dappled in gentle shade, while others basked in a bright, nurturing glow. Despite the persistent rain against the glass walls outside, the greenhouse remained a haven, free from the tumultuous weather.

“What are you going to do with all of this?” He asked, watering the last pot.

“I’m going to use them for potions.” She answered, spelling away the last remnants of dirt off of the floor.

“Do you have somewhere to work on potions?” He hadn’t seen every single room in the house but he also hadn’t seen anything that would function as a potions lab.

“Not yet, that’s going to be tomorrow’s project. We’re going to make the garage into a lab.”

Draco groaned, his body weary from a combination of the work they had poured into the greenhouse and his lingering hangover exhaustion. “Am I just free labor to you?”

She smiled at him deviously, “Yes, why else would I keep you around, Draco?”

“My charming personality?” He offered, “My infinite wisdom and advice?”

She scoffed, clearly unimpressed. “You’re delusional.”

“That’s no way to speak to a friend, Hermione.” He teased, putting on an exaggerated pout

Rolling her eyes, she retorted, “You speak to your friends that way so I’ll talk to you however I please.”

He chuckled in response, thriving in the ease of banter between them.

“Well, hello you two.” Katie said, a bright smile on her face as she waited behind the counter at the coffee shop.

Draco and Hermione had decided to treat themselves to some coffee after their productive evening in town. They had showered following their work in the greenhouse, run errands, picked up groceries, and even purchased a radio. For Draco, this coffee excursion also provided an excellent opportunity to openly flirt with Hermione, and he was looking forward to it.

“It’s nice to see you again.” He said, his signature smirk in place.

“How has your trip been so far?”

“Incredible.” Draco replied, glancing down at Hermione with a fond smile, noticing the subtle blush that colored her cheeks. “Hermione has been a very thorough host.” He added, reveling in the annoyed look she shot him in response.

"Oh, I'm sure she has," Katie chimed in playfully. "She told me an interesting story yesterday."

Hermione sent her an alarmed look and shook her head, as if attempting to deter the barista from continuing.

“Did she?” He asked, looking at Hermione suspiciously.

“Yes, I hear she punched you back in school, is that true?”

He chuckled, a hint of self-deprecation in his tone. “Yes, I was a bit of a wanker back then so I can’t blame her. I definitely deserved it.” He was enjoying the way he could get away with teasing her so openly so he continued, “She was quite fierce when she did it, I don’t think I’ve ever been as attracted to someone as I was after that.”

Hermione looked up at him, surprise evident in her features at his candid admission.

“Seriously? You got punched in the face and your response was to start crushing on her?” Katie was looking far too pleased at the revelation and Hermione was just caught off guard.

“I may be a bit of a masoch*st.” He quipped, winking at Hermione as he spoke. Her cheeks flushed even deeper, and she averted her gaze, clearly flustered.

Katie's laughter filled the air as she busied herself behind the counter, preparing their drinks. Draco and Hermione settled at the table nearest to the counter and the shop's entrance, their conversation lingering in the backdrop.

"Were you being serious?" Hermione's voice was hushed, carrying a hint of curiosity and perhaps a touch of disbelief.

Draco hesitated for a moment, second-guessing his decision to reveal his feelings. But he couldn't backpedal now. "Yes," he admitted, his heart fluttering nervously. He should have anticipated her question, but he hadn't. He should have found a different way to make her blush.

Her eyes locked onto his, her expression incredulous. "You were attracted to me after I punched you?" She regarded him as if he had grown a second head.

He nodded, his heart still racing as he prepared to explain himself further. "You were so alive in that moment, looking at me as if you wanted to kill me. I don't know why, but I couldn't stop thinking about it afterward. I'd like to think it was just teenage hormones, but I'm not so sure." He admitted, his voice laden with vulnerability. Then, he couldn't resist adding a playful edge to his words. "You're welcome to punch me again anytime; it would be my pleasure."

Hermione snorted in response. "You really are delusional."

His attempt at lightening the mood seemed to work, and they shared a brief, friendly laugh. However, an unease began to creep over Draco as he contemplated his actions. He couldn't shake the nagging feeling that he might be crossing a line, especially considering they had only agreed to be friends a few hours earlier.

"Does my flirting bother you?" He blurted out suddenly, the worry nagging at him.

Hermione's response was soft, almost drowned out by the ambient noise of the coffee shop. "No," she assured him, "as long as we don't complicate anything, I don't mind."

Chapter 20: evermore

Chapter Text

And I was catching my breath

Barefoot in the wildest winter

Catching my death

And I couldn't be sure

I had a feeling so peculiar

That this pain would be for

Evermore

evermore - taylor swift

After retrieving their drinks from a very smitten Katie, Draco and Hermione began the walk to his car. Hermione wore a gentle smile, a delicate flush tinting her cheeks, and a bounce in her step as their footsteps echoed on the damp pavement.

“You’re getting off on this aren’t you?” He said in a low voice, unable to resist the urge to reference their earlier conversation.

She shot him a look, attempting to chastise him, but her smile remained, dispelling any seriousness as she playfully bumped his arm with her shoulder. “Stop saying that.” She hissed.

Draco chuckled, a new sense of courage overwhelming his usual restraint, “Why would I stop when I get such a delicious reaction out of you every time?”

“Do you have any other long held confessions you would like to get off your chest?” She asked, deflecting his question, her blush deepening.

His mind immediately fluttered to the Yule Ball. He had finally gotten over his attraction to her from the punching incident when she showed up to the Yule Ball, a vision of grace but still so Granger it had left him reeling all night. He and Pansy had gone as platonic dates but she was still offended he spent the whole night focused on Hermione, his eyes always finding her amongst the crowd.

He had been pushing his luck with the limited flirting he had managed today, and he was apprehensive that divulging any more might cast him in an unfavorable light. He hadn't dwelled on these moments in years, as the war had intervened and drowned any lingering emotions long before they could become a significant issue. Admitting that he might have nurtured feelings for her would make him seem desperate, potentially raising doubts about his motivations for seeking employment under her at the Ministry or for tracking her down.

“I think I’ve already revealed plenty today.” He replied, “If you’re nice to me, maybe I’ll confess more later.”

“Don’t hold your breath.” She responded, flashing him a mischievous grin.

After a quiet drive through the rainy backroads Draco and Hermione unloaded their new purchases from the car. In the warmth of the house, Hermione began putting away the groceries while Draco fiddled with their newly acquired radio.

“It’s not turning on.” He whined, pushing all the buttons with no response.

“Did you put batteries in it?”

“Batteries?” Draco muttered, his brows furrowing as he scrutinized the contents of the box, desperately searching for anything resembling 'batteries.'

She sighed and joined him at the kitchen island, glancing at the back of the radio before summoning something from a nearby drawer. Two cylindrical things shot into her open hand as she spoke, “Batteries store energy and make things work without electricity.” With deft movements, she placed them in their designated spots and secured the back of the radio.

“They really should teach these kinds of things in Muggle Studies.” He mumbled, feeling that uselessness again of not knowing how things work.

“I hate to break it to you but we did talk about batteries in third year.” She leveled him with a smug look and he pretended not to notice it, instead focusing on the radio again.

Their evening passed easily, Hermione made them a simple dinner and they continued their light banter with the added ambience of the radio. After their meal, they settled onto the couches, books in hand, ready to enjoy a quiet evening of reading.

As the hours slipped away, Draco noticed a subtle transformation in Hermione. Her words became fewer, her usually lively presence dimming like a flickering candle. She underlined a passage in her book but then tossed it onto the side table with more force than necessary.

“I think I’m gonna go to bed early. I’m tired from the greenhouse work.” Her voice was strained and he wanted to inquire why she was suddenly so upset but he just acquiesced, following her upstairs.

She didn’t wish him a goodnight as she usually did, she just headed straight to her room, Crookshanks dutifully trailing behind her, the thud of her closing door resonating through the silence.

He entered his own room, a quiet concern for her beginning to grow. She had seemed perfectly fine throughout the day, and he couldn't pinpoint any particular reason for her sudden shift in demeanor. The mystery of her distress weighed on him as he settled into his bed.

As he fell asleep, he hoped that whatever bothered her would pass by the morning.

Draco's slumber was abruptly shattered by a distant crash, jolting him awake from a deep sleep. His heart raced in response to the sudden noise, and he instinctively sat up, striving to regain control of his breath. He strained to hear any other sounds, but the room remained eerily silent, save for the echoes of his own racing heart.

In an attempt to reassure himself, Draco mentally attributed the commotion to Crookshanks likely causing chaos somewhere within the house. Before he could fully calm his racing thoughts, a thunderous door slam from downstairs shook the walls, leaving no room for doubt.

In an instant, he sprang to his feet and snatched his wand from the nightstand, staying as quiet as possible as he made his way into the hall. The hallway was veiled in darkness so he quickly cast Lumos, noticing that Hermione’s door was ajar. He walked silently to her door and peered inside but her bed was empty.

Panic surged through his veins. The origin of the crash and the resounding door slam had undeniably emanated from downstairs, and Hermione was absent from her room. Draco's mind raced through a whirlwind of grim possibilities, all centered on abduction or some form of dire threat, and it fueled him forward.

Abandoning all pretense of stealth, Draco charged down the stairs with the frenzy of fear accelerating the pounding in his chest. Cold tendrils of dread threatened to overwhelm him, urging him to succumb to the instinctive urge to Occlude his thoughts. But as he approached the kitchen, he resisted the impulse, determined to keep a clear head

The light they had extinguished before retiring for the night now blazed overhead, revealing glass shattered everywhere, red liquid pooled on the wood floor and against the cabinet. His chest seized as he looked at the liquid but even as his mind was screaming it was blood, it was obviously red wine. But among the shards of glass on the floor and the watery red liquid on the floor there was a small pool of what was most likely blood. He searched the area for more blood and spotted more droplets littered across the floor.

He followed the trail of blood, anxiety surging through him with every step. It led him to the back door, his heart pounding louder in his ears with each stride. The lock and door knob were covered in blood but he ignored it as he opened the door and found more blood trailing down the porch stairs and into the grass. He stepped through the threshold, ignoring the discomfort as the cold night air pierced through his flimsy silk pajamas.

Finally he spotted a lone figure on the far side of the yard standing against the wooden railing that hugged the cliffside.

“Hermione?” He called, releasing his Lumos so the only light in the yard was the muted moonlight filtering through the clouds.

The night air swallowed his words, and there was no immediate response but the curls blowing wildly in the breeze gave away the identity of the silhouette in the dark. He approached cautiously, rain falling gently on him as he stepped out from the porch and towards her.

“Hermione?” He repeated, his eyes roving over her as he approached.

She wore the same attire as earlier and her right hand was clenched at her side, drops of blood staining the ground below. She was staring out at the waves, her eyes glazed over in the same way they were the night before.

“Hermione, are you okay?” He inquired softly, suppressing his mounting anxiety as he became aware of the precariousness of her position near the cliffside. He awaited any acknowledgment or sign of recognition from her, but none came.

She swayed slightly, likely a result of a combination of alcohol and the unrelenting wind. When her movements became too erratic for his comfort, he reached out and gripped her arm, the chill of her bare skin sending a shiver down his spine.

Her head turned toward him, but her gaze seemed to pierce through him rather than focus on him. "What?" She murmured, her voice distant and detached.

“You’re bleeding. Are you alright?” As he asked, he noticed the tear stains on her face that were masked by the light rain.

“Just a cut.” She said, turning her empty gaze back to the water.

She was there physically but mentally she obviously wasn’t there. He wasn’t sure if it was alcohol or a mental struggle or a combination of the two. He withdrew his hand from her arm and cast a warming charm over her, unsure of how to handle the situation.

“Don’t do that.” She slurred, glaring at him.

“I’ll do whatever I bloody please. You’re going to freeze to death or bleed out if you don’t get a grip.” He said sternly, searching her eyes for any sign of comprehension.

“Then f*ck off and let me die.” She growled in response, her eyes devoid of life.

His chest constricted in response to her words and anger bubbled up within him. “Come back to the porch or I will f*cking drag you there myself.”

Hermione remained unresponsive, her gaze locked on the turbulent water. Desperation gnawed at him, and the minutes spent in the rain and ocean breeze watching her left him shivering. He contemplated casting a body-bind spell and hauling her inside, but he recognized that she was grappling with an emotional breakdown. He opted for a different approach.

“Hermione, please.” He begged, “Just come to the porch and let me heal your hand and then I’ll go to bed and stop bothering you.”

“Why do you care so much?”

“Because you’re my friend, Hermione.”

She turned to him, a glimmer of clarity in her eyes, “Fine.”

He sighed with relief and led her back to the porch, checking to ensure she was following. Once they were sheltered beneath the porch's roof, he gestured for her to sit in her chair. She sank into it, her movements unsteady.

Kneeling in front of her, he reached for her clenched hand, which was still pouring blood. Her skin was ice-cold, stained crimson, and as he unfurled her fingers, a deep, gnarly cut became visible, slicing across her palm and running so deep that he could glimpse bone. The severity of the wound threatened to churn his stomach, but he masked his horror beneath a veneer of composure.

Maintaining a neutral expression, he cradled her hand lightly with his left and began to work his healing magic with his right hand. “What happened?” He asked as the blood gradually disappeared from her palm with his incantation.

She sighed, looking down at him, her wet hair dripping onto him, “I threw the wine bottle but it didn’t break the way I wanted it to so I tried to throw the half that didn’t break properly and it cut me.” There was exhaustion laced in her slurred words.

Though he yearned to scold her for such recklessness, for handling broken glass and teetering on the cliff's edge while intoxicated in the freezing rain, he kept silent. Instead, he focused on his work, and an air of quiet settled around them as he softly incanted the spells to mend her wounded flesh.

Once the spell had taken effect, leaving only a faint pink scar to trace the former injury, he continued to cradle her hand in his. Her skin was delicate, her touch soft, and he had an overwhelming desire to hold onto it and beg her to never scare him like that again. But he refrained, raising his gaze to meet hers. Their roles had reversed since their encounter at the shoe store. He now looked up at her, his concern likely etched across his features as he regarded her from their close proximity.

Her attention remained on her hand, her brows furrowed in worry, her eyes filled with emotion once more. He silently thanked Merlin that she no longer appeared empty as he rose to his feet and took a seat in his chair, positioning it directly in front of her, so she couldn't avoid facing him. Casting drying and warming charms over both of them, he continued watching her as the minutes passed, the air between them only filled with the sounds of the rain falling and the wind blowing.

“I used to be so useful.” She said suddenly, her eyes still fixed on her right hand, her other hand tracing the line of the now-faded scar. He listened, allowing her thoughts to flow uninterrupted. “Back in the War, I was being used but at least I was useful. I just don’t know why that changed.” Her voice was broken and her lip trembled as she continued, “Ron and Harry used to come to me for advice but as soon as the War ended, any time I give an opinion or advice I’m being pessimistic or nagging.” She swallowed hard. “I miss feeling useful. I have nothing to offer now that Riddle is gone and the War is over.”

As he pieced together the reasoning behind her mental breakdown, he was absolutely livid. Somehow she had convinced herself that without the War she was nothing. He could see clearly now why she was so upset but he could also see how positively flawed her logic was. He remembered the way he demeanor had changed over the course of the evening and understood that something must have set this line of thought off, resulting in her drinking in solitude in the late hours of the night.

“Your worth is not dependent on how useful you are.”

“But it is.” She insisted, finally meeting his eyes as tears fell down her cheeks.

“It’s not.” He reiterated, unable to control himself as the words escaped him, “You are not useless just because there’s not a War for you to fight or a problem for you to fix. And don’t sit here and tell me you have nothing to offer, you have so much to offer.”

“Like what?” She growled, her anger revealing itself again, “In the Ministry they ignored me, I tried so hard to pass legislation that would benefit so many creatures and no one cared, I was unsuccessful. I can’t even do my job properly.” She angrily wiped her tears, her expression darkening.

“f*ck the Ministry. f*ck your job. It doesn’t matter what legislation you pass or who you help, that’s irrelevant to what you have to offer.” She fell silent, avoiding his gaze again, so he pressed on, “You are allowed to sit back and do nothing now, you did more and gave more than anyone else in the War. You can drop the self righteous Gryffindor mindset, you are your own person and don’t owe anyone anything.”

“I’m only interesting to people if I am helping. They don’t care about me now that I have nothing to offer.” Her eyes were back on her healed hand and he was growing increasingly angrier at her lack of regard for herself.

He seized her hand, enveloping hers in the warmth of his own, compelling her to look up at him as he leaned in. “You are so incredibly interesting and incredible without all of that bullsh*t. If the people around you don’t already see that then there’s no reason to try to prove it by working yourself to death in the hopes that they can realize how much you care. I’ve only been here for a few days and I can see how much you care and how much you have sacrificed in your life. You deserve to relax now, let other people do the hard work, you have done more than anyone will ever be able to do.”

The eye contact between them held as he ranted and although her eyes were still glazed from her consumption of alcohol, he could sense the relenting anger being replaced by resignation. He continued to hold her hand, one hand cradling hers while the other traced soothing circles against her skin. The way their hands fit together felt perfect.

She sighed, “I know you’re right but I’m still angry that they don’t see it the same way you do.” Her eyes dropped to their intertwined hands.

“I’m almost always right.” He teased, attempting to break through her despair, “Stop focusing on the way other people perceive you, no matter how hard you try there will always be someone who is left unsatisfied.”

“You know this feels a little hypocritical coming from the guy who lets everyone walk all over him after the War.” She slurred, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Do as I say, not as I do.” He shrugged, “I’ve been trying my hardest since the War but I now see I have a lot more to work on in my life.”

“It’s not fair.” She announced with an annoyed edge to her voice, “I wish you would have accepted my friendliness earlier. Maybe we could have been friends sooner and avoided this whole mess.”

He tried to imagine himself accepting her attempts at conversation at the Ministry or agreeing to go out for a pub night, but he couldn't envision the Draco who had drowned his sorrows in alcohol getting along with the broken Hermione wandering the Ministry halls. They were such different people now.

“I doubt that. I was such a wreck I don’t think I would have the same clarity if I hadn’t come to the Muggle world.”

“The Muggles made Draco Malfoy wise and all-knowing. What a twist in your story.” She smirked at him and the last of the tension he had been holding onto finally released as she slowly returned to her normal self. “You are still a bit of a wreck to be honest.”

“Says the woman who was standing ominously at the edge of a cliff while drunk.” He retorted.

She smiled lazily, “Well I’ve never claimed to be well-adjusted.”

Despite the fact that she was finally returning to a more normal level of awareness, he was upset that the night had turned out this way. “Why didn’t you come wake me up when you got hurt?” His thumb continued its path tracing the soft skin on the back of her hand.

“It wasn’t that bad and I wanted to be alone.”

Draco studied her in the dim moonlight, “Do you want to be alone now? I can go back to bed.”

“No, it’s fine. Your hands are warm so you at least have some use right now.” Her eyes were glinting with mischief as she said it.

The corner of his lip tugged upward at her acknowledgment of their joined hands. He rallied his courage and grabbed her other hand, clasping both of her small hands in his.

“Glad I can be of service to you. But next time you want to get drunk and throw things, at least have the decency to invite me along. I’m practically an expert at drunken rage.” He drawled, his fingers tracing a line up the inside of her wrist.

“I don’t know if I trust that statement coming from the guy wearing Slytherin green silk pajamas.”

“That’s a low blow,” He remarked, feigning offense. “I think I look rather fit in these.”

In response, she let out a snort, her eyes fully reanimated as they locked onto each other in the ensuing silence. He reached one of his hands up, wiping the tears she had spilled moments earlier, noting the way her cheeks seemed to heat up under his touch. His hand cradled her jaw, his thumb continuing to chase away the remnants of her tears. As he finished, he allowed his touch to linger, captivated by her beauty up close—the slight parting of her lips and the wideness of her eyes.

He wanted to kiss her.

He dispelled the thought, removing both of his hands from her. His heart was heavy with shame as he recognized the lapse of judgment that had nearly taken place in her vulnerable state. He shouldn't be entertaining such thoughts, let alone caressing her the way he had just done. Swallowing hard, he averted his gaze, sensing her release of a held breath.

"We should get you to bed." He whispered, rising from his seat and returning the chair to its original position.

Hermione followed him in silence, as if in a momentary daze. They carefully skirted the trail of blood on the floor as they made their way back inside. He gestured for her to ascend the stairs first, ensuring she wouldn't stumble in her altered state. When they reached the top of the staircase, she abruptly turned to face him.

“Thank you. For healing my hand and talking me off the edge.”

“Don’t thank me. It’s the least I could do.”

The air between them thickened, a tension that had been building throughout the night returning with newfound intensity. Draco tried his best to ignore the way she seemed to inch closer, her gaze now lingering on his lips, an unspoken desire simmering beneath the surface.

“Goodnight, Hermione.” He said, his voice almost a whisper, his determination to keep his distance unyielding.

She stepped back, a bittersweet smile gracing her face. “Night, Draco.”

As soon as she slipped into her room and closed the door, he walked back downstairs, vanishing the mess of glass and blood so there was no trace of the events of the night. His heart raced, and a heavy cloud of shame settled over him as he replayed the moments he had shared with Hermione. It was one thing to be her friend and indulge in playful flirtation, but tonight had awakened something deeper within him.

He wanted more but he knew he couldn’t have it.

Chapter 21: abstract

Chapter Text

Darling, there's a part of me

I'm afraid will always be

Trapped within an abstract from a moment of my life

The weeds up through the concrete

The traffic picking up speed

All my love and terror balanced there between those eyes

See how it shines

See how it shines

abstract (psychopomp) - hozier

Draco only had seven days left with Hermione.

The realization hit him as soon as he woke up and registered that it was Saturday, one week from the day he planned to head back to London so he could be back for work on the following Monday. He only had seven days to enjoy the Muggle world, the feeling of freedom while driving, the comfort of being unknown, the distance from the aftermath of the War and his responsibilities. More importantly, he only had a few days left in the company of Hermione.

A sudden sense of urgency overtook him, propelling him out of bed to begin his morning routine.

As he reached for his wand and signet ring on the bedside table, he found himself faltering. The simple silver band branded with the Malfoy crest held the catalyst of his current situation. If he hadn’t been driven to commission the enchanted piece of jewelry for protection, he would have never known the truth behind Hermione’s disappearance. Without the ring he would have been left a zombie, unaware of her existence. He would have never pursued her across the world and gotten to know her on the deep level he knew her now.

He had regretted spending so much money on the ring and its enchantments but as he reached for it, he found that he had never been so thankful for a simple piece of metal. It was his ticket to freedom–however temporary it may be–and this newfound friendship with Hermione. He slipped his signet ring back onto his finger and ventured into the bathroom, his thoughts echoing with a quiet, rhythmic chant.

Seven days. Seven days. Seven days.

The early morning sunlight was heavily dulled by the dark gray storm clouds that rumbled overhead. It seemed that the weather was emulating his tumultuous thoughts.

Draco knew that Hermione, after her late-night drinking escapade, would likely sleep in, so he decided to make the most of the quiet hours by diving into his book. When the hours passed and Hermione had yet to make an appearance, he decided the best way to lure her from bed was to begin cooking a late breakfast.

He had successfully quieted the chant in his mind concerning his dwindling time during his reading session, lost in the world of Elizebeth Bennet and her growing regret over rejecting Mr. Darcy’s proposal. But as he moved to the kitchen and began cooking, a new set of thoughts began to weave their way into his consciousness. Vivid recollections from the previous night surfaced, each one a haunting reminder of what might have transpired. A dozen grim scenarios played out in his mind—Hermione injured beyond recovery, left alone on the cold kitchen floor to bleed out, or worse, teetering on the edge of the cliff, ready to tumble onto the jagged rocks below.

He attempted to shake these haunting images from his mind, to push away the endless possibilities that threatened to overwhelm him. But even when those thoughts ended, all he could see was her hollow expression as he had begged her to leave the cliff’s edge. Whether or not her intentions were to put her life at risk, she had done just that. He had been cautious in their conversations before but he would not hold back now that her mind would be clear.

He paused his cooking to turn on the radio, desperate to distract himself with noise.

Draco felt like his father, sitting at the dining table, reading and re-reading the same paragraphs of ‘Pride and Prejudice’ as he anxiously waited. He had successfully prepared breakfast again and placed the food under a stasis and warming charm while he cleaned the dishes that were left in the sink.

With nothing left to do, he waited.

When she finally appeared at the bottom of the stairs, she seemed surprised by his presence at the dining table. She was in her usual sleeping clothes, her hair more tame than usual and no lingering grumpiness that she usually had after waking. He assumed she had been awake for a while before deciding to grace him with her presence.

He cleared his throat and awkwardly gestured to the seat across from him where the food waited. “How are you feeling?” He asked as Hermione sat down at the table.

“I’m fine.”

“How’s your hand?”

“It’s fine.” She muttered, avoiding his eyes as she spread jam on her toast.

He couldn't help but notice the tension in her shoulders and the evasive avoidance of his gaze. He understood that feeling all too well—the sensation of being prodded about something one had no desire to discuss. He merely nodded and continued with his own breakfast, allowing her to grapple with her thoughts in silence. He knew how Hermione was, it would only be a matter of minutes before she would form a plan to address the night before so he allowed her that room to ruminate.

The soft hum of the radio filled the room, and Draco relished in the tranquility of the moment. He could grow accustomed to living like this—the faint patter of rain on the trees outside, the soft grumble of thunder brewing in the storm, an absence of the bustling city noises that had once defined his life. With seven days left to enjoy it, he savored every bite of his meal, washing it down with a sip of co*ke while temporarily pushing aside the anxieties regarding his impending return to London.

Throughout the meal, Draco stole occasional glances at Hermione, becoming more and more annoyed as time passed and no conversation was had.

As he began collecting his dishes to head to the kitchen, Hermione cleared her throat and set her fork down with a gentle clink. "Thank you for last night," she said, her eyes clear and her tone sincere. "I'm sorry that you had to see me like that, but I genuinely appreciate what you did."

He wanted to respond with the same easy forgiveness he had offered the night before, but a sense of weariness had settled in him—an exhaustion from the cycle of apologies and absolution. If he simply brushed it off as fine, they would move on and pretend as though nothing had transpired. But he couldn't accept that this time. Setting down the dishes he had been gathering, Draco regarded Hermione with a solemn expression.

“I know you don’t want to talk about it but we have to.”

“What is there to talk about?” She asked, taken aback.

“If I hadn’t been there last night you could have easily fallen over the railing, Hermione. Or bled out.”

“It wasn’t that bad.” She scoffed, trying to ease the seriousness of the conversation but her mouth couldn’t fully form a smile.

“Do you truly believe that? Your hand was cut so deeply I could see bone. If it had been three inches higher you would have bled out in minutes, alone on the kitchen floor.” His voice was low and he stopped trying to mask his concern for her.

“I have magic, I would have been fine.” She deflected flippantly.

He couldn’t believe how dismissive she was being and his tone reflected his frustrations. “Magic can only do so much. You were too drunk to think clearly.”

A bitter laugh escaped her lips as she retorted, "Are you really going to lecture me on drinking? You of all people?"

The accusation caught him off guard, "I'm not criticizing you.”

But she wasn't finished. Her eyes blazed with anger as she continued, "You used to come to work hungover or still drunk from the night before every day, and now you're going to sit here and judge me?"

He faltered, unable to find the right words, and her fury only grew. "You think I haven't heard this before?" She spat, pushing her chair back and standing over him. "Go on, say what you have to say."

Her sudden change in behavior left him stunned, his mouth agape, struggling to respond.

"Let me guess," she continued in his silence. "You want me to cut back on drinking? You want me to stop complaining about the War and my life?"

"Hermione, please, calm down." He implored, finally catching up. He rose from his seat, raising his palms as if to pacify her.

"Just say it!" Her words hung in the air, her voice trembling with rage.

In that moment, Draco understood why she had reacted so strongly to his comment about her drinking. Weasley had pleaded with her to stop drinking and had dismissed her feelings. She was assuming Draco was doing the same. Her anger was laced with exhaustion, as if she had repeated this same conversation a dozen times before and she probably had.

"Hermione." He pleaded, stepping cautiously around the dining table and reaching out to take her hand. But she jerked it away, her eyes still shooting daggers at him.

"You can drink as much as you want, and you can vent about the War until you're blue in the face," he said earnestly. "I'll drink with you, listen to whatever you have to say, and probably share your frustrations. I wasn't criticizing you for having feelings or drinking."

"Then what are you saying?" She sounded defeated.

"Simply be more careful when you're here alone." He said gently. “I won’t always be here to intervene.”

She let out a shaky breath and ran her hands through her hair, seeming to contemplate his words. Her eyes were filled with unshed tears, and her anger seemed to subside, leaving her looking broken once again, much like the previous night. Draco couldn't bear to see her like this.

"Come here." His voice was soft but commanding, his arms raised in an invitation.

She gave him an odd look, seeming to weigh her decision until she sighed and relented, closing the space between them.

The warmth of her body pressed softly against his and his breath hitched as her arms wrapped around his waist. He was immediately assaulted by the lavender and lemongrass he associated with her presence and faltered momentarily before wrapping his arms around her softly.

The music was still playing gently in the background and as the moments passed, the pair seemed to melt into one another. Hermione’s arms tightened as she pressed her face against his chest and slowed her breathing.

He covertly pressed his face against her hair, inhaling her intoxicating scent. His heart was hammering at their proximity and every subtle move of Hermione sent a wave of emotion through him. He yearned to remain in this embrace forever, with her slender form pressed against him, sharing their warmth.

After a few moments, her arms began to unwind and she took a subtle step back, avoiding his gaze. He wasn’t sure what came over him but his hand went to her face, gently cupping her face with his hand, tilting her head upward with his fingers so that she was looking directly up at him when he spoke.

“No more apologies between us. I understand why you do the things you do and we don’t need to keep doing this tiresome dance. If you do anything that warrants an apology I will let you know.”

She was looking up at him, her eyes full of emotion and a small smile on her lips. “No more apologies.” She agreed.

He recognized that this was a perfect moment to bridge the remaining inches between them and share a kiss. They were both sober and perfectly capable of entertaining the idea, but he restrained himself, offering only a reciprocated smile. Their gazes remained locked, and he suppressed the desire to explore her face, to find that freckle beside her lips.

“Now let’s have a cup of tea and read for a few hours before we begin whatever manual labor you have planned for today.” He declared, lowering his hand.

A few hours of easy silence passed, the storms passing overhead creating a relaxing ambience for their reading. When they made their way to the living room, Hermione with her tea and Draco with his can of co*ke, instead of sitting on his usual loveseat, he opted to join Hermione on the main couch. They sat on opposite ends, Hermione eyeing him suspiciously as they sat.

Crookshanks seemed to revel in this change, coming out of hiding so he could claim the loveseat for himself. He even gave Draco a few slow blinks of appreciation as he purred and settled into his spot.

He noticed that Hermione didn’t reach for her book on trauma as usual, instead she began sifting through a small stack of black leather journals while he continued his reading of Pride and Prejudice.

After some time had passed, Hermione extracted a piece of parchment from one of the journals and gestured for Draco to take a look. He shifted closer on the couch, their legs now gently touching. On the paper, a meticulously drawn potions laboratory revealed itself, with areas designated for cauldrons and ingredient storage, all in a handwriting that seemed oddly familiar but just out of reach.

“Did you draw this?” He asked curiously.

"No," she replied, her voice hesitant, a flicker of guilt crossing her features. "It's from one of Snape's journals."

"How did you get his journals? Did he leave them to you?" The bitterness in his voice was unmistakable, a pang of hurt surfacing as he wondered if he meant as much to his Uncle Sev as he had thought. His eyes darted to the stack of journals she had been sorting through, and it suddenly dawned on him why the handwriting felt so familiar—it was the same writing that adorned the potion reports and holiday cards he had received.

"After the final battle, I made a quick detour to his room and borrowed them." She explained, her tone casual.

"His body wasn't even cold yet, and you went and stole his belongings?" He asked, incredulous.

"I was worried that his journals would be confiscated by the Ministry, especially since the truth about his allegiance to the Order wasn't known at that point," she hurriedly clarified. "I didn't know he was your godfather; if I did, I would have handed them over to you earlier." Her eyebrows were knitted with concern as she awaited his response.

"Let me get this straight," he began slowly, his voice lowering in intensity. "While everyone else was tending to the dead and injured after the battle, you were up in Snape's office, sneaking around?"

She nodded, guilt apparent, and buried her face in her hands, consumed by shame.

He couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him and she looked at him with confusion, “What?”

“You need to sort out your priorities.” He teased through his bouts of laughter. “I do wonder if the Sorting Hat is losing its spark, you clearly should’ve been a Slytherin.”

She playfully swatted his shoulder, a relieved chuckle escaping her. “Stop insulting me”

“Being called a Slytherin is the highest honor.” He declared haughtily, “All of the best people were Slytherins. Take the designer of this lovely potions lab for instance.” He nodded his head towards the parchment in her hands.

“I can’t name a single Slytherin who I would consider useful.” She mumbled, a smirk on her lips as he looked at her in offense.

“Don’t wound me so, I thought we were friends.” He lamented, playfully nudging his leg against hers.

She hummed gently, “I suppose you’re useful. At least you were last night in being my personal hand warmer.”

His heart leaped; he hadn't expected her to remember. “Should you need my services again, you need only ask.” Merlin, he wished she would ask.

Her smirk softened into a more reserved smile as she extended her right hand in front of him. He didn't hesitate, capturing her hand in his, cradling it between his palms. They were sitting so close that he could see the flush on her cheeks rise as he traced her wrist with a finger, just as he had the night before.

“Is this my only use to you now?” He teased gently.

“You are also quite helpful with environmental charms and heavy lifting.” She paused, swallowing, “And I quite enjoy our conversations.” The honesty of her words made his heart soar as her eyes met his.

Draco couldn't fathom how he had arrived at this moment, pressed against Hermione, with thunder rumbling in the background. She trusted him enough to invite him into her home, to allow him to hold her hand and comfort her in times of crisis. The evolution of their relationship was something he could never have imagined, but as he sat there, a sense of comfortable familiarity settling between them, he couldn't help but feel that it all made perfect sense.

As he caressed her hand and shared a smile with her, he realized he may have done exactly what Pansy had warned him against. He was becoming attached to Hermione and he saw no way to reverse the hold she had on his heart.

Chapter 22: mirrorball

Chapter Text

i want you to know

i'm a mirrorball

i can change everything about me to fit in

you are not like the regulars

the masquerade revelers

drunk as they watch my shattered edges glisten

hush

when no one is around, my dear

you'll find me on my tallest tiptoes

spinning in my highest heels, love

shining just for you

mirrorball - taylor swift

Draco couldn’t focus on anything save the feeling of Hermione’s hand between his. She was explaining the logistics of constructing the potions lab but her words faded to a distant murmur in his ears. All he could think about was how soft her skin was and how her body relaxed against his, their bodies pressed against each other as they sat on the couch with no space separating them.

Was she really unaffected by their proximity? Draco felt like his entire world was shifting, unsure whether it was collapsing or being reborn from the ashes. Each caress of his finger across her wrist felt like a step away from the man he once was.

He spent so much time wallowing in his self pity after the War, accepting the hatred of the public and forcing all of his frustrations inward, sabotaging his own happiness. He had convinced himself that he didn't deserve anything good, given his actions and inactions during the War. But this stirring emotion inside him now, the longing, the happiness, the gratitude, made him wonder if he might, in fact, deserve this. Perhaps he did deserve a shot at happiness, or at least a glimpse of it.

Draco hadn’t been happy in so long that he almost didn’t recognize the feeling within. This moment, though, was happiness and he wanted to stay there forever, holding Hermione’s hand and listening to her passionately speak about things that interested her. He wanted it so bad his heart ached.

The moment was broken as Hermione slipped her hand from his grasp.

“Let’s get dressed and start working.” When he met her gaze, she was smiling softly, the blush still present in her cheeks.

Merlin, she was so beautiful.

He couldn’t form a sentence in his stupor so he simply nodded and followed her up the stairs.

Draco dressed in a pair of his Muggle jeans and a gray, short sleeve shirt, his eyes traveling to the persistent presence of the Dark Mark on his forearm. Usually whenever he saw the mark he was instantly flooded with shame but the dormant mark didn’t elicit any emotional response from him. He simply looked at the unmoving lines, their once deep black faded to a more muted charcoal color. He remembered the words of the Muggle man in the clothing store, complimenting him on his tattoo.

Hermione was still in her room so he made his way to the kitchen, intending to crack open another can of co*ke, but as he exited the stairs and made his way to the kitchen, Crookshanks was watching him from the floor, blocking his way.

“What?” he hissed, immediately annoyed by the creature’s interference.

Crookshanks merely blinked at him and then got up, strutting towards the study. When Draco moved towards the kitchen, Crookshanks let out an annoyed meow, flicking his tail. He was obviously trying to lead Draco somewhere so he relented with a huff, trailing after the beast.

Upon entering the study, he discovered it to be empty, save for two small bowls on the floor – one containing Crookshanks' food and the other water. The creature approached the nearly empty food bowl, gazing up at Draco with an expectant look.

He let out a huff, the ghost of a laugh, “You led me here to feed you?” he asked, as if the creature would respond. Apparently Crookshanks understood him well enough because he meowed in response and rubbed against Draco’s leg–something he had never done before.

“Where does she even keep your food?” he muttered, annoyed at the situation but not so annoyed he was about to let the poor cat starve. Hermione probably forgot to feed him amidst all the drama of the night before.

He found himself following the cat to the cupboard in the kitchen where a bag of dry cat food was sitting on the shelf.

There was no way Hermione was feeding the cat dry food, right? She had to have some fish or rats stashed somewhere for the creature. But after a few minutes of searching the cupboard and fridge accompanied by insistent meows from the cat, he relented and headed back to the study with the bag of food, reading the ingredients as he did so.

“Is this really what she feeds you?” he muttered in quiet disbelief as he filled the bowl generously. The ensuing meow from Crookshanks seemed to confirm his suspicion.

“That’s not right. I’ll get you some good food. You need something with substance.” He didn’t know why he was so concerned for the cat but he imagined that Crookshanks was used to chasing rats and birds back at Hogwarts. Demoting him to processed dry food was borderline criminal.

Crookshanks purred contentedly, his eyes closing in a slow blink, his appreciation clear, before turning his full attention to the meal before him, effectively dismissing his human companion.

Draco left the study, intent on that can of co*ke he was originally pursuing when Hermione descended the stairs. She wore her long black skirt paired with a burgundy sweater, her beaded bag clutched in hand.

“Do you just have the entire contents of the wizarding world in that bag?” he quipped, continuing toward the kitchen.

She snorted in response, “Only half of it. I haven’t had time to unpack everything but now that you’re here and we can get all the potion stuff out of here, it will be easier to get the rest of the house sorted.”

Draco sighed as he opened the fridge and retrieved a co*ke, “Well, let’s get this over with then.”

When he turned back to her, she had an eyebrow raised, “Come on, don’t be a spoilsport. This will be fun .”

“Hermione f*cking Granger I swear to Merlin if you don’t lift your wand and help me I am going to set this whole lab on fire.” He growled under the strain of the cauldron.

She rolled her eyes and suddenly the cauldron was moving into place smoothly, the strain on his magic lessened significantly. As soon as the soft thump of its landing signified it was in place, he turned to her with a glare in place.

He started to voice his objections, but as she raised an eyebrow challengingly, he held back. Inhaling deeply, he closed his eyes for a moment before responding in a more composed manner, “Fine. I should have asked for help. But you’re still evil for toying with me.”

“I loved potions. Before Hogwarts, Uncle Sev would come set up at the potions lab in the Manor and he would let me watch him brew. The summer before first year he allowed me to assist him in chopping ingredients.” An overwhelming sense of nostalgia filled him, remembering the hours he would spend watching Uncle Sev from a stool in the corner and the pure elation he had felt when Uncle Sev gestured for him to join. “He complained the entire time, according to him I was chopping ingredients too sloppily or my breathing was distracting him.” He let a soft laugh out. “He would grumble and insult me endlessly but I knew it was his emotionally stunted attempt at spending time with me and bonding.”

When he looked back at Hermione, she smiled softly, waiting for him to continue.

“A lot of people lost a lot more than I did.” He responded, giving a feeble smile. “At least Uncle Sev died for a reason, knowing that Riddle would die and he would be a hero.”

A comfortable silence settled between them as they faced each other. Once his emotions had calmed, he spoke again, "So, what's next?"

“We should start organizing the ingredients if we want to have any hope of doing something fun tonight.” Hermione sighed.

“What fun thing would that be?”

The corner of her lip quirked, “I guess you’ll find out once we finish.”

With that, she pulled her wand out and summoned the ingredients from her beaded bag, the stream of jars seemingly endless. When the last jar finally landed on the counter, the entire island was covered.

He groaned, “Can’t we just use magic to put them on the shelf?”

She narrowed her eyes at him, and before she could retort, he moved to the island and began sorting.

As Draco carefully positioned the last jar – Wormwood – into its designated spot, he couldn't help but release a relieved groan. Turning to Hermione, who was organizing the last few textbooks, he observed her diligent efforts. A determined crease formed on her brow as she shuffled the books back and forth, contemplating their order. The radio, brought into the lab to distract from the mundane task of sorting, filled the space with soft melodies.

Allowing himself a moment to simply watch her, Draco smiled faintly. Despite using her wand to secure her abundant hair into a bun, unruly strands persisted in framing her face. She appeared as though she belonged in a Renaissance painting, her features possessing a simple elegance perfect for capturing on canvas. He found himself regretting not taking up his mother's offer of painting lessons during his upbringing; had he done so, he could have done her justice.

His gaze traced down to her neck, focusing on that freckle he had discovered. The notion of placing a kiss there, inhaling her intoxicating fragrance, and being encouraged by her to do so crossed his mind. The idea of being accepted by Hermione and sharing innocent yet intimate moments with her made his heart tighten with both longing and anticipation.

“When you leave, I’ll give you all of Snape’s journals.” Hermione declared, turning to him as the last book found its place.

“Thank you.” he said quietly, suppressing the dread that filled him at the mention of his departure.

“Now, I do believe I promised you a fun night. Go get changed into something warm and give me a half hour and I’ll be ready to go.”

An hour later, Draco found himself ankle-deep in mud, trudging behind Hermione through the dense forest near her house. They had been walking for a solid half-hour with no end in sight, and truth be told, he was thoroughly miserable.

"I thought you said we were doing something fun," he grumbled.

"We're almost there, stop complaining," she sang, skillfully navigating fallen branches and slippery moss as she forged ahead.

The forest, soaked from an earlier thunderstorm that had now subsided to a dutiful rainfall, was thick and humid. Despite the serenity of the surroundings—the deep green moss covering every rock and most of the forest floor—he found it challenging to appreciate, preoccupied with the constant effort to avoid slipping.

Wet, cold, and exhausted from a day spent building the potions lab, coupled with a late night and the emotional toll it took, he opened his mouth to voice his complaints when Hermione's voice cut him off.

"Here it is!"

"Thank Merlin," he mumbled, finally catching up to Hermione, who stood at the edge of the trees.

As he peered beyond her, he was astonished. Beyond the edge of the trees lay a clearing seemingly untouched by the falling rain—a meadow adorned with deep, dusty lavender flowers scattered across the grassy floor. Taking a step forward, entering the clearing, he immediately sensed the temperature rising several degrees. It felt as though this spot were stuck in eternal spring, an oasis amid the oppressive weather.

"What is this place?" he inquired.

Walking forward to join him, she explained, "I found it during one of my drunken forest wanderings when I moved in. I placed the environmental charms myself. I thought it would be nice to have a warm spot to read in." She stated it so matter-of-factly, as if the clearing wasn't evidence of her seemingly boundless magical talent.

"Leave it to you to bend nature to your whim just so you can have a pleasant place to read," he chuckled incredulously, watching as she pulled a basket out of her beaded bag.

Rolling her eyes, she began removing items from the basket. When he reached toward it to assist her, she slapped his hand away. Taking that as a signal that his help was unwanted, he chose to explore the clearing while she worked.

The grass beneath his feet was incredibly soft as he strolled toward the opposite side of the clearing, where there appeared to be a cliff's edge similar to the one in her backyard. Standing there, he marveled at the way the magical barrier created a protective shield against the ocean breeze and pounding rain. The area seemed to be under a charm that mimicked sunlight, its beams dancing with particles that rendered the clearing otherworldly.

Just a brief respite in the warmth had him breaking a sweat, prompting him to shrug off his coat. He began making his way back to Hermione, who had set up a blanket on the ground not far from the cliff's edge. As he approached, he noticed she had brought an array of sandwiches, fruit, and chips, along with a few cans of co*ke, their books, the radio, and a couple of bottles of wine neatly tucked away in the basket.

"You have outdone yourself," he said excitedly, kicking off his shoes before settling down on the blanket beside her.

She laughed freely. "Don't get too excited. It's only sandwiches."

"I'll get as excited as I'd like," he responded haughtily, grabbing a co*ke and opening it.

He started the radio, setting it to a low volume while Hermione unwrapped the sandwiches and shed her coat.

Time passed as they enjoyed their meal, the conversation revolving mostly around the potions lab and the greenhouse, along with all the plans Hermione had in mind. The prospect of helping her brew potions before his departure excited him; it had been too long since he had found a reason to brew.

Completing their meal, they each used their coats as makeshift pillows and lay side by side, engrossed in their books while the music played grainily from the radio. Every now and then, Draco would set his book down, basking in the warmth of the charmed sunlight.

He glanced at Hermione, who was engrossed in another of Snape's journals, biting her nails in concentration.

“When does your probation end?”

“What do you mean?” He asked as he sat up, stretching his back.

He had never really thought about what he would do in the wizarding world if he had a choice. Recently, he had been contemplating a life in the Muggle world, but in the wizarding world, it seemed he had no say in his fate. In his youth, his father wanted him to follow in his footsteps, manage the Malfoy estate, and influence the Ministry with their name and galleons. However, after the War, the Malfoy name no longer held any influence.

"I don't believe that's true. You're intelligent; you may have to work against the prejudices, but you're more than capable of overcoming that." She stated it with such finality that he couldn't find it in himself to deny it.

"Maybe," he muttered noncommittally.

"Well, if you ever need a reference letter from a War hero, I'm quite good with a quill." She said lightly, nudging her shoulder against his playfully.

He chuckled, "I'll keep that in mind. What about you? You made it to the Muggle world, effectively disappeared from your past life. What's next?"

"I have no idea. But that's why it's so exciting for me. I have enough money to last around twenty years without having to work, but I imagine I'll get bored in this house eventually and maybe try to get a part-time job in town somewhere." She smiled guiltily as she spoke, and he could tell she was trying to tamp down her enthusiasm.

"I won't lie; I'm quite jealous of you. The Muggles seem like much better company than wizards after the War." He picked at the grass next to the blanket as he spoke. "Do you think you'll ever go back to the wizarding world?"

"I doubt it," she said seriously, a concerned crease forming in her eyebrows. "I don’t think romance is for me."

"Really?"

She nodded solemnly as she reached for the untouched wine bottle and opener, beginning to screw into the cork. "I haven't had the best of luck with relationships."

"No offense, but anyone who had to deal with the Weasel would feel the same way. Maybe you just need to give it some time. I don’t see why you can't have a relationship eventually." He continued, reaching for the two glasses tucked away in the basket and placing them in front of her.

She sighed again as she pressed down on the wine opener, effectively releasing the cork and starting to pour two glasses. "Ronald wasn't my only relationship, you know. I was with Viktor for a while—long distance—but it was pleasant."

"Viktor Krum?" Jealousy rolled in his gut as she smiled privately, as if reliving the 'pleasant' relationship with the Quidditch star in her mind.

"Well then, shouldn't that prove that romance is obtainable for you? You've done it before," he said weakly.

"That was before the War. Now I am nothing more than a notch on someone's bedpost, the War hero they can brag about having a quick shag with, or the uptight, nagging girlfriend that they'll get tired of within a month." She let out an airy laugh at the end before bringing her glass to her mouth, her eyes trained on the expansive ocean below.

"Let's say, for argument's sake, you're right. What about a Muggle? They would have no connection to the War, no preconceived notion of you as a person."

"True, but I think it would be hard for me to connect with someone who doesn't have similar experiences and interests as me." She drank from her glass again, then shook her head as if to clear the thoughts she was lost in. "Anyway, no relationship for me in the future unless Charlie Weasley turns up at my door and wants a round two, I suppose," she commented with a smirk.

"Holding out for the other Weasley, then?"

"Not for a relationship, surely, but I wouldn't turn down a quick shag."

He choked on his wine a bit, trying to mask his surprise behind a cough. "Really? That's all you want?"

She nodded as she went to refill her glass. "How about you, Draco? You have a pureblood fiancée waiting for you back home?"

He scoffed, "Merlin, no. I haven't had the time nor the energy to entertain any romantic notions since I took the Mark."

She looked at him as if she was trying to solve a puzzle. "Truly? I would have guessed you and Pansy might have ended up together, or your parents would have thrown you at any eligible bachelorette, knowing how the Purebloods usually move."

He drained the rest of his glass and filled it again. "No. Pansy is one of my best friends, purely platonic. And my parents have abandoned the old Pureblood traditions after the War. They want me to settle down, but there are more pressing matters in our lives nowadays."

She hummed. "I guess that makes sense. When was the last time you had a good shag?"

She watched him carefully as he avoided her eyes, drinking the whole glass in one go as he tried to come up with a response. In reality, he was still a virgin. His first kiss was the result of a dare, and there had been no romantic pursuit at any point since then.

He relented with a sigh after the last of his drink disappeared down his throat.

"Never," he answered honestly.

"You've never had a good shag?" She asked incredulously.

"I've never had a shag at all."

She paused, searching his eyes. "Seriously?"

He nodded, running his hand through his long hair as he tried to shake the vulnerability he was feeling after his confession.

"What a shame," she mumbled.

“It seems not a lot of people want to take their chance with an ex-Death Eater.” He tried to joke but his words came out with a hint of bitterness.

“Sure but you’re fit as hell. If you went out I’m sure witches would be clamoring for your attention.”

The line of questioning was starting to feel suggestive in nature so he decided to respond honestly, even if it exposed his feelings towards her. His heart was hammering as he spoke, “I like a woman who is accomplished.”

She laughed quietly as she went to refill their glasses, finishing off the first bottle in the basket. “And what is the definition of ‘an accomplished woman’ to you?”

He avoided her gaze, “She must have thorough knowledge in Potions, Herbology, Transfiguration, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Arithmancy, and politics. And she must be well-read, of course.”

“It’s no wonder you haven’t found an accomplished woman then. That’s quite a list of requirements.” She mumbled, a smile in place.

“Wouldn’t you say you’re an accomplished woman?”

“I suppose so.” She said lightly as she handed his glass back to him.

When his hand went to retrieve the glass, her hand lingered on the glass. He looked at her and that palpable tension was back. She was looking into his eyes as if she was asking him a question, asking for permission for something. His heart jumped as her eyes lowered to his lips.

She swallowed audibly before she whispered, “Remember what I told you before? You could flirt with me as long as we don’t complicate things?”

He nodded.

“A bit of kissing probably wouldn’t hurt. As long as we don’t complicate things.” Her words came out breathily.

Merlin, the way she was speaking to him was downright sinful. Her face was mere inches away from him, her eyes dancing with the challenge she had laid out.

“Are you sure?”

She nodded, her eyes apparently unable to move from his lips. “Only if you want to, of course.”

He tried to think through the proposition logically but their proximity had his blood rushing in his ears and his mind scrambled. He knew it probably wasn’t a good idea to take her up on the offer considering he was emotionally invested in her. His feelings would complicate the arrangement even if she was unaware of them.

She smiled slightly as she registered his acceptance.

Finally, they reluctantly pulled apart, their breathing heavy. Hermione gazed into his eyes, a half-smile gracing her lips before she began to laugh lightly.

“Who would have thought Draco Malfoy would be such a good snog?” she quipped.

Caught off guard by her rhetorical question, he joined her laughter, a sense of lightness washing over him—something he hadn't felt in as long as he could remember.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, they made their way back to the house, their steps a bit unsteady, laughter bubbling out in their tipsy state. Even with the rain pouring down again and the trail muddier than before, he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

The final hours of the night were spent in tranquil reading, yet Draco's thoughts persistently circled back to the shared kiss. Ascending the stairs to bed, he harbored a silent hope that she might entertain another, though he was cautious not to push his luck. With simple smiles and goodnight wishes, they bid each other goodnight and retired to their respective rooms.

Fists pounding on his bedroom door jolted him awake, and he assumed it was early morning due to the light filtering into the room. The frantic knocking immediately set him on edge as he hastily scrambled out of bed and flung the door open.

In front of him stood a panicked Hermione, her breathing rapid, wand in hand.

“The wards, there are people here,” she hissed, her voice wavering.

“Who?”

“I don’t know. The wards are only set to alert me if someone magical comes onto the property, and there’s more than one person.” She spoke frantically. “I need to leave.”

Before he could respond, there was pounding on the front door.

His heart raced in his ears, realizing it was probably Potter and Weasley at the door. Attempting to calm himself, he took a deep breath.

“I'll answer the door. You get Crookshanks and leave,” he whispered. “Once they’re gone I’ll call you with that spell I used before.”

She nodded and turned away, searching for her familiar.

He steeled himself and ignored the dread filling his body as he made his way down the stairs and to the front door.

Chapter 23: true blue

Chapter Text

And it feels good to be known so well

I can't hide from you like I hide from myself

I remember who I am when I'm with you

Your love is tough, your love is tried and true blue

true blue - boygenius

As he approached the front door, his mind was in a whirlwind, desperately seeking a logical explanation for the persistent knocking at Hermione's door. His immediate inclination pointed towards Potter and Weasley, speculating that the compulsion might have worn off sooner than anticipated, leading them to discover the same path he had followed to Hermione. He had no idea what he could say to them to explain his presence but he knew whatever he said he would surely be met with violence.

But if it wasn’t them, it could just as easily be Aurors who somehow knew he was abroad and came to put him in Azkaban for breaking his parole. He silently hoped it was Aurors for his own sake.
He opened the front door, all of the muscles in his body tensing in anticipation but as the front door revealed the visitors, he found himself frozen in place. He stood there, mouth slightly open in shock at the three figures–Theo, Blaise, and Pansy.

Time stood still as they all just stared at each other in silence. While he was looking at them in shock, they returned his gaze with varying emotions, anger evident in all except Blaise, who wore a mischievous grin.

“Uhm, hello?” Draco uttered awkwardly, shattering the silence.

“ Hello ?!” Pansy hissed, her eyes ablaze with anger. “That’s all you have to say right now?! Hello ?!”

Draco looked at the pair of men with confusion, trying to get some sort of clue from them on how he should be acting but they were no help. Theo was now rubbing his temples, eyes closed and Blaise was hiding his laughter in his sleeve.

“Good morning?” Draco ventured, awkwardly.

“Draco Lucius Malfoy, I am going to eviscerate you.”

“I’m sorry but what are you guys doing here?” Draco inquired before Pansy could unleash her fury.

Theo interjected before Pansy could respond, "We haven't heard from you in days, Draco. We all tried to call you multiple times, but it's been going straight to voicemail. We were worried." His words were laced with exhaustion.

“Oh.”

Blaise erupted into laughter, drawing an irritated glare from Pansy. He quickly veiled his amusem*nt with a cough and composed his face into a neutral expression, though a subtle smile lingered.

“Well I’m sorry I haven’t answered your calls, I just didn’t put the phone on the charger and forgot about it.”

“Where are your clothes?” Blaise queried, his eyes twinkling.

Draco looked down at himself. In the panic of the moment, he had come to the door wearing only his pajama pants. He was warm after all of the wine the night before and opted out of wearing his shirt.

He looked back at the trio, “I slept like this.”

Blaise smirked at him, “Uh-huh.”

Attempting to steer the conversation away, Draco lamely asked, “I’m sorry, was there anything else you guys needed?”

“Are you serious right now?” Pansy growled, “We have been searching this whole damn town for a sign of where you might be, port keyed across the f*cking world on a rescue mission and you’re dismissing us?!”

Draco groaned, realizing the depths of trouble he had put them through simply because he didn’t put his cellphone on the charger. Pansy and Theo were extremely busy with work all of the time and they had apparently deemed his lack of response as enough of a disturbance to ditch their work to look for him.

He ran his hands through his hair, “I’m so sorry, Pansy. Seriously. I didn’t mean to scare you guys like that.”

“Draco?” Hermione's voice echoed from inside the house.

His head swiveled to her, finding her at the foot of the stairs, an unsure look in her eyes. He assumed she had Apparated out at some point but it seemed like she had been there, listening through the entire exchange. He scrambled to concoct an apology or excuse for the chaotic scene unfolding, but before he could say anything, Hermione spoke again.

“Aren’t you going to let them inside?” She asked quietly.

“Are you sure you’re okay with that?”

She nodded, determination in her eyes. He offered her an apologetic look before turning back to the trio on the doorstep.

They seemed surprised now, having heard Hermione's voice from inside the house. He had only opened the door slightly, blocking the entryway, leaving them unable to see her but evidently able to hear her.

Swallowing, Draco asked, “Would you guys like to come in?”

They nodded in response, exchanging uncertain glances with each other as he fully opened the door, inviting them in. His mind whirled at the collision of worlds as Blaise crossed the threshold into the house first, making a beeline for Hermione.

“Granger,” he purred, “So good to see you, it’s been far too long.” He grasped her hand, lightly kissing her knuckles as she tried to mask her surprise. “Pardon our intrusion.”

“Zabini, it’s good to see you as well.” She responded as he released her hand and continued past her and into the living room.

Theo and Pansy approached her more cautiously as Draco closed the front door, suppressing his embarrassment at having his psychotic friends show up unannounced.

Pansy addressed her first, “Granger, I’m really sorry about intruding like this so early in the morning. We will get out of your hair as soon as possible.”

Draco walked around the pair standing in front of Hermione, positioning himself by her side during the exchange.

“There’s no need to apologize for checking on your friend, I completely understand. It sounds like he gave you guys quite a scare.”

“Oh, yes, that would be an understatement.” Pansy responded, shooting Draco another glare full of venom.

Theo intervened before Pansy could unleash another barrage on Draco, “Thank you for inviting us inside your home, it’s lovely.”

“Thank you, make yourselves at home.” Hermione gestured towards the living room, where Blaise was already exploring her bookshelves. “I’m just going to get ready for the day and give you guys some privacy.”

Theo and Pansy both smiled and thanked her again before moving into the living room, leaving Draco alone with Hermione at the foot of the stairs.

He sighed in exasperation, turning to her, “I’m so sorry, Hermione, I had no idea they were trying to get a hold of me. I will let them yell at me and then I’ll apologize and have them out.” He rambled, eager to convey his remorse for the unexpected visitors.

“Draco, it’s fine.” She said quietly, “I’m just happy it wasn’t who I thought was at the door. Catch up with your friends and enjoy their company, I don’t mind if they stick around for a while. Truly. It sounds like they went through a lot of trouble to find you.” As she spoke, there was a hint of sadness in her voice.

Before he could decipher the reason for her tone, she gave him a smile and ascended the stairs, leaving him alone with the Slytherins. With the grogginess of sleep now lifted, he could finally take in the absurd scene before him. The trio occupied the main couch, watching him expectantly.

Pansy claimed Hermione's usual spot, her straight, jet-black hair now even longer, reaching her mid-waist, and her bangs shorter, the mini bangs complementing her sharp features. Her dark eyes were narrowed at him.

Theo sat in the middle, looking somewhat guilty about the group's intrusion. He absentmindedly ran his hand through his curly hair, making it even more unruly with each pass. His face was contorted in concern.

Blaise, on the other hand, appeared completely relaxed as he flipped through the copy of 'Pride and Prejudice' Draco had left on the side table the night before. His hair had grown out, and the tight, black curls now resembled Theo's hair in length but were more polished in presentation. His mouth was set in that permanent smirk as he glanced up at Draco.

Draco walked to the loveseat, wishing he had at least put his bloody shirt on before bed. He looked like an imbecile wearing only silky pajama pants while the rest of the group was fully clothed.

"So," he began as he sat down, "I owe you guys an apology."

"You owe us more than that," Pansy retorted, arms crossed.

"Hermione and I have been busy the last few days. I'm not used to having a cellphone, so it just slipped my mind."

“It just slipped your mind? I’m not trying to be rude, Draco, but Merlin, do you even know how the last few days were for us?” She asked, the sharpness of her tone lessened. He shook his head in response, so she continued, “We were all extremely worried, getting absolutely no response from you. We all canceled our work schedules so we could portkey to the middle of nowhere Muggle America, fully expecting to find your body in the ocean somewhere.”

“You really thought Hermione would kill me or something?” He asked in disbelief.

“She is a powerful witch and the last I had heard from you she had attempted to Obliviate you.” Theo said quietly.

“You can be extremely grating, Draco, I wouldn’t blame her if she did dispose of you. No offense, of course.” Blaise added.

Draco huffed in response to that.

“We really thought we were going to have to explain your sudden departure from the realm of the living to your parents, that’s how serious it was for us.” Pansy said sternly.

Draco rubbed his hand down his face, guilt heavy in his gut. “Pans, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” she responded shakily, “You just had us all worked up so you will have to deal with me being angry for a bit.”

The group sat in silence for a few moments before Theo addressed him, “What have you and Granger been up to?”

“We’ve just been hanging around the house. We built a greenhouse and potions lab.” He responded, suppressing the flutter in his chest when he said ‘we’ as if they had become a unit.

“Do you think she’ll be angry with us?” Theo asked in a hushed voice.

“Angry at you? Why would she be angry?”

Theo groaned, "Look, Draco, I know you are half-awake and in shock, but surely you can see why she would be angry? She put all this trouble into disappearing from the wizarding world and hiding in the far reaches of the Muggle world just for us to show up on her doorstep." His eyes kept darting towards the stairs as if Hermione would be materializing any moment to finish them off.

“Plus, we’re Slytherins and Pansy here used to bully her quite frequently.” Blaise added, unhelpfully.

sh*t, they were right.

“f*ck.” He mumbled, the guilt building again, “I don’t think she’ll be angry with you but she will probably be angry with me for putting her in this position.”

“She didn’t look angry when you two were having your private little conversation over there.” Blaise said casually, a knowing look in his eyes.

Draco ignored him. “How did you guys find me anyway? I never gave you the address.”

“You told me the city on the phone before.” Theo responded, “We got here last night and have been asking around until we finally found a woman this morning who knew Granger’s address. You really should tell her to protect her house with a Fidelius.”

Draco hummed in acknowledgment, “When I came into town I was able to get her address the same way. She mentioned casting a Fidelius before, but I’ll bring it up with her before I leave.” His throat constricted at the subject of his departure, an occurrence that was becoming frequent. He swallowed, “Would you guys like some tea?”

“Yes, please. This place is so cold and wet it’s like we never left London.” Blaise whined.

“You’re going to make us tea?” Theo asked suspiciously.

“Yes, I am perfectly capable of making tea.” Draco grumbled, standing up and heading for the kitchen.

He expected the trio to stay on the sofa, but they all stood up and followed him.

“Why are you guys following me?” He asked, eyes narrowed at the group.

Pansy’s face was finally clear of anger, her eyes sparkling in amusem*nt, “It’s not every day the great Draco Malfoy offers to make tea himself.”

He ignored them as he refilled the kettle and set it on the lit stove. When he turned back around, Blaise had opened the fridge and was exploring its contents. Pansy was looking out the window into the backyard, and Theo was poking around the picnic basket from his and Hermione’s night.

“You know, it’s considered rude to go snooping around other people’s homes.” Draco drawled, addressing the two men.

“Can I have a co*ke?” Blaise asked, already opening the can, “Theo will never order drinks when we get Muggle takeaway, it drives me insane.” He sent a pointed look in the man’s direction.

“I don’t order drinks because they’re always lukewarm by the time they arrive.” Theo didn’t even dignify him with a responding glance, instead addressing Draco, “Is this a picnic basket?”

“Obviously.”

“Did you two have a picnic?”

“Obviously.”

At this, all three of them turned to him.

“You and Granger went on a picnic together?” Pansy asked slowly.

“Yes.” When he was met with three incredulous looks, he began rambling, “We spent all day working on the lab yesterday and we wanted to do something fun so she took me to a meadow nearby and we had a picnic.” He turned away from them, his cheeks heating up when he remembered the kiss they had exchanged the evening before. Somehow, he felt that the trio knew, could read his thoughts.

He busied himself with getting down enough mugs for the group, plus one for Hermione, and setting the tea bags within them.

“I guess things are going well then?” Theo inquired, “Pans had mentioned you two were getting on last time she spoke to you but I couldn’t quite believe it.”

Draco sighed as he turned back to the trio, leaning against the counter.

“Yes, things are going well. We’re friends.”

Pansy just shook her head and turned back to the window.

“That’s… good.” Theo responded slowly, an odd look in his eyes.

Blaise decided it was a good time to chime in as he saddled up beside Theo and began looking through the picnic basket. “So have the two of you shagged yet?”

He glared at the man, “No.”

“Snogged?”

At that, Draco froze. He quickly shook the unease from his body and responded as convincingly as possible, “No.” He lied.

Pansy turned to him and scoffed.

“What?” He snapped at her defensively.

“You’re a terrible liar, Draco.”

He was attempting to fabricate another lie or devise some retort to convince her otherwise when the kettle began whistling loudly, saving him. He calmed his breathing as he poured the water into each cup, but his mind kept flashing back to yesterday—the charmed sunlight illuminating Hermione’s face, the hitch in her breath when their lips met.

His hand jerked slightly, spilling some of the hot water onto the counter, and he cursed himself. His friends had gone through a heap of trouble to locate him, worried he had been murdered, and he was too preoccupied with his feelings for Hermione to care.

“Tea’s almost ready.” he announced shakily, getting out the sugar, honey, and milk from their respective places before levitating the mugs to the island while they steeped.

Blaise was now wrist-deep in a bag of chips leftover from the picnic, and Theo was trying to figure out how to turn on the radio.

“Must you treat everybody’s things as if they’re your own, Blaise? You can’t just barge in, drink my last co*ke, and eat all of my chips.” He hissed, yanking the bag away from the man.

“Chips ? Those are crisps, mate.” Blaise responded grumpily around a mouthful of them.

“No, they’re chips. That’s what Rick called them when I bought them the first time.”

“Are you dense ? What do you call those thin, fried potatoes the Hogwarts house elves served at lunch sometimes?”

“Crisps?”

“Exactly.” Blaise said smugly, “These are the same things just with flavouring.”

“Well the Muggles call them chips.”

“No, they do not.” He insisted, “I’ve been in the Muggle world more times than you and they’re crisps.” With that, he retrieved the bag from Draco’s hands aggressively.

Pansy turned to them, annoyance clear in her voice, “American Muggles call them chips; British Muggles call them crisps. Now shut up, it is far too early for this.”

Her razor-sharp glare stunned them both into silence as she turned back to the window. With her back turned, Blaise began munching loudly on the chips again, making a face at Draco, who just rolled his eyes in response.

“The tea is ready. Do you guys want to go out back so we don’t annoy Hermione?”

They all agreed and prepared their tea. Pansy observed him as he readied the one for Hermione, leaving it under a warming charm on the side table while the group made their way to the back door. She didn’t say anything, but he knew she would be lecturing him later.

With their cups of steaming tea in hand, they filed onto the back porch. The breeze coming from the waves in the early morning was mild, and the sky was clearer than it had been his entire visit. It was still chilly, so he cast a quick warming charm over the group, to which Blaise moaned in response.

“This view is to die for.” Pansy said quietly, her eyes fixed on the cliff’s edge.

“It is.” He agreed, linking his arm with hers and walking with her past the fire pit and towards the fenced edge.

Blaise and Theo settled into the chairs he and Hermione had transfigured, chatting quietly while sipping their tea, leaving him and Pansy alone.

They stood in silence as they drank from their mugs, and every time he looked at Pansy, she seemed lost in thought. He gave her a few moments of solitude, joining her in admiring the view.

He was so used to the view being tumultuous, rain pelting down, the horizon covered in dark gray clouds while the waves crashed below. But it was different today. The sky was mostly clear, only broken up by a few light gray clouds. The early morning sunlight danced across the water, which moved in more hushed waves against the rocks below. Without the curtain of rain blocking the view, he could see more of the forest jutting up against the cliff in both directions; he wondered if he looked hard enough, he could find that meadow Hermione had taken him to.

It was beautiful, but he had become more accustomed to the beauty of the dark weather. It almost didn’t feel right.

“How are you, Draco?” Pansy asked quietly, her eyes soft as she looked at him.

“I’m good.” He answered honestly, “Really good.”

She hummed, a small frown on her lips.

“I’m really sorry, Pans.” He repeated.

“It’s fine. I just haven’t gotten that worked up since the War.” Her voice was quiet, barely audible, “You’re the only family I have left aside from those two wankers. It seems so silly now, but I felt like I was living a nightmare. Like I was back at Hogwarts, running past dead bodies and hoping it wasn’t you-” Her voice broke, and she took a deep breath, her eyes closed. “It’s a little frustrating to come find you perfectly fine, having picnics with Granger while we were in a right panic.” Her voice was more playful as she said the last line, but he could see the worry hidden behind her eyes.

“I’m alive,” he said firmly, “I won’t go and get myself killed, I promise. I would never forgive myself for leaving you alone with those idiots.” He nudged her shoulder playfully, and she chuckled in response. “I love you, Pansy.”

“I love you too, Draco,” she responded warmly, “But don’t think you’re getting out of my interrogation about Granger.”

He groaned, “Later, please?”

She looked back at the house, “Fine. But only because she’s just come outside, and I don’t want to embarrass you in front of her.”

Chapter 24: don't delete the kisses

Chapter Text

I look at your picture and I smile

How awful's that? I'm like a teenage girl

I might as well write all over my notebook

That you rock my world

But you do, you really do

You've turned me upside down

And that's okay, I'll let it happen

'Cause I like having you around

don’t delete the kisses - wolf alice

Draco’s gaze turned to the back porch where Hermione was emerging through the door, tea in hand. He gave Pansy an appreciative smile before making his way across the yard as quickly as possible, in fear that Blaise would make her uncomfortable before Draco could intervene.

She was wearing a fitted long sleeve, black shirt and a pair of high waisted black trousers he had never seen before. Her hair falling in ordered ringlets, the frizz he was used to seeing non-existent. Despite the simplicity of her attire, it exuded a sense of refinement, more fitting for a casual business meeting than a day at home. Her posture mirrored this sophistication, evoking an air of authority reminiscent of their time at the Ministry.

"Thank you for the tea," she greeted, but the tone felt oddly formal, echoing the professional mannerisms she used at the Ministry. Draco despised it.

His initial smile faded as he sensed her discomfort. Her posture remained rigid, fingers tapping nervously on the mug as her eyes darted around, seeing the Slytherins in her space.

"No need to thank me," he replied, trying to ease the tension.

She forced a smile, took a sip of her tea, and headed towards the group of Slytherins who were currently fighting over chairs by the dormant fire pit.

“Granger!” Blaise greeted with a dazzling smile as he squeezed into Draco’s transfigured chair next to Theo.

“Granger,” Theo began, his tone apologetic, “I really can’t thank you enough for allowing us inside your home. I was able to get us a portkey back to London first thing tomorrow morning so we will finish our tea and leave.” He paused for a moment, exchanging a look with Pansy, “Before we go though, we would like to take a wand oath if that’s fine with you.”

"A wand oath?" Hermione was taken aback, and Draco shared her surprise. He hadn't expected his friends to propose such a serious commitment to someone outside their immediate circle.

“Yes, the three of us will take a wand oath that we will not reveal your location or discuss any information about you that we have learned with anyone outside of this group.” Theo explained, and the trio produced their wands.

Her eyes flitted between them, her posture relaxing slightly. “Are you sure?”

"Absolutely," Pansy asserted authoritatively. "You deserve to live your life as you want, and we won't interfere or jeopardize that for you."

Emotions surged within Draco as his friends looked at Hermione with conviction.

"I would really appreciate it, as long as you don't mind," Hermione replied sincerely, her tone softer now.

"Anything for you, Granger," Blaise purred.

And with that, the three friends recited their oaths simultaneously, their magic extending in golden tendrils beyond their wands, weaving around their fingers and wrists before settling into their skin. Hermione observed with a faint smile on her lips.

“Right, now you three get out of our chairs.” Draco said with false sweetness, eyeing Theo and Blaise. “We worked hard on those and I won’t have you two ruining it.”

“Where are we supposed to sit then?”

"Transfigure your own chairs," Draco retorted as the trio stood up.

Hermione shot him a disapproving gaze, but he just smirked, his free hand resting on her lower back as he guided her to her seat. The touch sent familiar tingles down his fingers, and memories of the previous evening flooded his mind.

"You shouldn't be so rude to them," Hermione whispered disapprovingly as she settled into her chair.

He scoffed, "Trust me, they deserve it."

She rolled her eyes and he internally rejoiced as he noticed her demeanor slowly return to what he was used to. Draco sat in his chair, watching her sip her tea while keeping an eye on Theo and Blaise who were bickering over what branch had better coloration for transfiguring.

The men were clad in button-down shirts and slacks under their coats, while Pansy wore a flowy blouse tucked into a pencil skirt beneath her long peacoat. He was already feeling underdressed, wearing only his pajama pants and nothing else but with Hermione fully dressed and the group of Slytherins dressed in similar attire, he felt foolish.

"They're very different from how I remember them," Hermione observed quietly.

He hummed, "Yes, we've all grown up a lot since the War."

She nodded, turning back to him. "I really didn't expect them to take a wand oath. I know how they're viewed in Pureblood culture."

Pureblood culture treated wand oaths as seriously as Unbreakable Vows. Making an oath on one's magic was to be avoided, as breaking it would relinquish a part of the magic to the subject of the oath. It was another aspect of preserving Pureblood magic.

"I'm as surprised as you that they offered, but none of us subscribe to Pureblood beliefs anymore. Besides, they understand how sacred your home is to you."

She nodded, seeming lost in thought. The three Slytherins approached, transfiguring their chairs around the fire pit into vastly different forms. Pansy's became a dark leather sofa chair similar to Hermione's in shape and size. Theo's was circular, with light brown cushions and slightly darker wood legs. He kept glancing at Hermione's chair, trying to emulate the carvings she had incorporated. Blaise's throne resembled Draco's but lacked intricate carvings, instead opting for a slightly larger and taller design, a satisfied expression on his face as he settled into the red velvet cushions.

"Must you always try to outdo me?" Draco sighed.

"Sorry, I don't take questions from men who wear silk pajamas," Blaise retorted, lifting his mug for a sip.

Hermione snorted, stifling her laughter behind her hand.

"Blaise, you wear silk pajamas," Theo pointed out, raising an eyebrow. "The exact same ones."

"Well, of course, I wear them. Cissy got them for us for Christmas; it would be rude not to wear them," Blaise responded with a dismissive wave. "And at least I wear a shirt to sleep in case I have any guests."

Draco glanced down at his bare chest with a frown. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Hermione doing the same, her eyes reflecting some other emotion as she looked at his chest.

Clearing her throat, Hermione made a quick gesture, and the back door opened on its own. All eyes turned to the door as one of Draco's black sweatshirts flew through the opening and landed in Hermione's hand before the door closed itself.

“Here you go, you must be cold.” She said awkwardly as the group’s eyes landed on her.

"Thank you," Draco replied, setting his mug down and putting on the sweatshirt.

"Did you just cast that wandlessly?" Theo asked curiously.

"And non-verbally?" Blaise added.

“Yes.” She answered, uncomfortable now that the spotlight was on her. Draco was about to intervene, redirect the attention away from her, when she continued, "Harry and I had to share a wand for a while when we were on the run after he broke his. It drove me insane not being able to do magic without it. So, after the War, I started training wandlessly, and now it's kind of second nature, I suppose."

"That's incredible," Theo murmured. "I can only cast a few very simple spells wandlessly, but none non-verbally."

"Once you master a few of the more advanced spells wandlessly, the non-verbal component follows naturally once you can identify the source of your magic. It's hard to explain and even harder to find written material on, but I could point you in the direction of a few academic journals that helped me when I began training," she offered casually, stopping herself from ranting by taking a sip from her tea again.

Theo beamed, his eyes filled with enthusiasm. "That would be incredible. I have a feeling you and I could talk about it all day, but since our time here is short, I think it's important we discuss a few things."

"What things?" Draco inquired.

"Did you let her know how I was able to track her before?" Theo turned to Hermione when Draco shook his head in the negative. "First of all, I would like to apologize for the role I played in Draco's scheme. It was not malicious, and I have no vendetta against you or any opinion on what you should or should not be doing; that's none of my business. In my defense, I did discourage him from bothering you, but that is neither here nor there."

Hermione nodded in response, her eyebrows creased in concern as he rambled on.

"I found the airplane ticket and hotel reservation under your mother's name, and that's how I was able to find out you had gone to America. I know it is unlikely that either of your friends would have the same resources as I do in finding this information, but to be on the safe side, I had the records deleted so you cannot be traced to America."

"You had them deleted?" She asked breathlessly.

He nodded, his face stern. "I know how much effort you put into all of this, and I wanted to be sure your location would not be compromised."

"Thank you," she said sincerely. "That is very kind of you to go through that kind of effort for me."

"Nonsense, we owe you our lives," Theo responded, with Pansy and Blaise nodding seriously in agreement. "Plus, it is the least I can do for burdening you with Draco's company."

She smiled slightly at that. "Still, I was a bit sloppy in my departure, so I do appreciate you fixing my errors."

"It was no problem at all. If there's anything you need help with in the future, I am only a call away," he responded, patting Hermione's hand, which rested on the arm of the chair.

"Well, we should probably be getting out of here," Blaise announced, draining the rest of his tea and picking up Theo's abandoned cup from the ground.

This snapped Hermione out of the trance she seemed to be in as she gazed down at Theo’s hand on hers. "Well, if you guys are stuck here for the day, there's no reason you shouldn't just stay here and spend time with Draco since you went through all that trouble."

Draco looked at her in surprise. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely," she said with finality as Blaise whooped in victory.

As the Slytherins buzzed with excitement, Draco was lost in eye contact with Hermione. She was smiling at him so sincerely, all traces of anxiety gone, but still a hint of sadness in her eyes. He wanted to hug her, thank her profusely, but he refrained. Instead, he just laughed breathily and reveled in the happiness he was feeling. It had been so long since their group of friends had been whole, and now he was going to be able to spend time with them and Hermione. He was ecstatic.

"We would also like to spend time with you, Granger, if that's alright with you," Pansy said suddenly.

Hermione seemed surprised by her statement, her mouth slightly open as she looked at the other woman when Theo cut in, "Oh, absolutely! There's so many things I wish to speak to you about."

She released a disbelieving laugh, glancing between them. "Alright," she conceded, "but let me make us some breakfast first."

"I'll assist you," Pansy said firmly.

As Draco observed Pansy, he detected the determination in her eyes, sensing her desire for a private conversation with Hermione. He forgot how cruel she had been to Hermione back in Hogwarts but the tension was obvious now that he was paying attention, the remnants of that distrust still present in the air between the two women.

Blaise scoffed, "No way we're gonna make the two women prepare our food. We," he gestured towards the men of the group, "are perfectly capable of cooking breakfast. You two stay out here; we'll let you know when breakfast is ready."

Theo nodded in agreement, and Hermione shot Draco an uncertain look. He just smiled in response, giving her an encouraging nod.

She took a breath, steeling herself. "Okay, just don't burn my house down," she pleaded, shooting a pointed look in his direction.

He raised his hands in defense. "I won't! I only burnt a few pieces of toast."

Cooking breakfast with Theo and Blaise turned out to be more pleasant than Draco had anticipated. Despite Blaise's usual torment and bullying, the kitchen solitude brought forth an unexpected warmth. Blaise wrapped his arms around Draco, giving him a firm hug.

"I'm happy you're alright, Drake," Blaise mumbled into Draco's shoulder.

"I'm happy you're here," Draco responded, returning the embrace.

It had been a while since they had hugged—since the end of the War when Draco's trials were over, and Azkaban was no longer looming. Alone in the Manor, the four of them had collapsed together, sharing tears and hugs until they had purged all the emotions bottled up during the lengthy trials.

This hug echoed that moment, the same intensity in Blaise's embrace revealing genuine concern beneath his mocking exterior. He had been genuinely worried.

When Blaise released him, he gave Draco a lazy smile and ruffled his hair before sauntering toward the pantry.

Theo, nearby, observed with a content look. "You look happier than the last time I saw you," he noted.

Draco's mind flashed back to his sorry state in London—sulking around Hermione's apartment, drowning in drink, and the hollowness in his eyes. "I am happier," he confirmed.

With that, the men got to cooking. Theo, with the most experience, took over most of the tasks, scrambling eggs and cooking bacon, while Draco managed the toaster, with Blaise beside him ready to butter every piece.

While waiting for the toaster, Draco kept sneaking glances out of the window at the two women conversing outside. He noticed both of them wiping their eyes before sharing an embrace, signaling some form of reconciliation. His heart felt lighter knowing they were getting along.

It was an idyllic scene, the two women smiling and laughing in the distance, their silhouettes sharp against the horizon. The rising sun reflected off light clouds, creating a gentle orange and pink background to the serene moment.

The toaster's ping snapped him out of the moment, and he quickly handed the toast to Blaise. "So what else have you gotten up to in the Muggle world?" Blaise asked curiously.

As they finished breakfast and plated everything, Draco shared all the details of his and Hermione's recent escapades, excluding the night of Hermione's drunken incident and their shared kiss the night before. Theo groaned in embarrassment every time Draco talked about his confusion over Muggle things, while Blaise gave him suggestive looks whenever he mentioned moments alone with Hermione.

After setting the plates on the dining table, Theo went out to let the girls know that breakfast was ready. They gathered in the dining room, Pansy at the head of the large dining table, Hermione and Draco next to each other on one side and Theo and Blaise on the other.

They ate in silence for a bit, Hermione smiling to herself, a newfound lightness in her demeanor. Theo broke the silence, "So, Granger, is there anything we can help out with while we're here? I know Draco mentioned a greenhouse and potions lab the two of you worked on."

She swallowed her food, setting her utensils down. "Oh, no, we got everything set up, so there's nothing we need help with. You guys are visiting, so we should spend the day doing fun stuff and catching up."

"What do you have in mind for today?" Draco asked quietly.

"You'll see," she said with a smirk, taking a bite of her toast.

"I'm excited. I never get to do anything. Theo's always working," Blaise said bitterly.

Theo laughed, "We do stuff all the time, Blaise, stop being dramatic."

"Do you guys live together?" Hermione asked, studying the men.

"Yes, we live in a flat in London."

"In wizarding London?"

"No, in Muggle London. I don't care for the restraints of wizarding properties."

"They have no electricity and bad takeaway; I'll die before someone makes me live in Diagon Alley," Blaise muttered, shooting a judgmental look at Draco.

He rolled his eyes, "Yes, I know, you hate my flat. Get over it."

Hermione laughed, "Do you guys work together?" She addressed the two men again.

"No, I'm just moral support, Theo's personal jester, there to entertain," Blaise winked at her.

She hummed in response, confusion still present in her eyes as she turned back to her meal. Draco made a mental note to debrief her on their peculiar relationship later.

"Draco, would you rather have your birthday party at Nott or Malfoy Manor?" Pansy asked suddenly. "I was supposed to have another week in France before coming to London, but with the current situation, I'm heading to London along with them early."

"Oh, right, I forgot about that."

"Your birthday's soon?" Hermione inquired.

"Yes, it's the fifth of June," he responded, feeling a pang in his stomach as he realized he would be leaving soon and going off to celebrate his birthday by himself. He pushed the thought away. "Nott Manor is fine. I can visit my parents for lunch then head over there." It felt like a distant reality, but it was only a week and a half away.

"We can play cursed heirloom roulette," Blaise said with a wicked smile.

"No," Pansy, Theo, and Draco said simultaneously.

"What's the point of Slytherin summer get-togethers if one of us doesn't end up at St. Mungo's?" Blaise grumbled, pushing his food around his plate.

Pansy rolled her eyes at him and turned her attention to Hermione. "When's your birthday?"

"September 19th. I believe I will be turning twenty-one this year."

"You aren't sure what age you are?" Draco teased.

She smiled sheepishly, "I had a Time Turner back in third year, so I'm not sure how old I really am."

"So it's true?" Theo asked excitedly as Blaise groaned. "I heard rumors that you had a Time Turner at some point but was never able to get confirmation."

Draco leaned over to Hermione as she looked at Theo in surprise, hoping to clarify her confusion. "Theo is doing research on Time Turners."

"Oh," she exhaled in understanding. "Yes, the old, meddling man gave me a Time Turner in the third year. I was under the impression it was to help me take all the classes I wanted and better my education, but it turned out to be a part of his master plan with Harry."

"The old, meddling man?"

"Dumbledore," Draco chimed in.

The Slytherins chuckled, and Hermione continued, "I used it every day throughout the term, and on occasion, I would use it for extra time to study or sleep. I never kept track of how long I spent repeating time, so I have no idea how old I am, although I suspect I'm about nine months older than my official age."

"I've been working on plans for a new Time Turner. I have a ton of questions for you, if you don't mind," Theo’s eyes were bright with enthusiasm and his voice was taking on that quality that the Slytherins deemed his ‘professor’ voice as he leaned towards Hermione across the table as if sharing a secret. "I'm currently trying to work on calculating the time travel length in relation to the turns. Finding information on the destroyed Time Turners has proved impossible, so it's becoming increasingly difficult for me to move forward in my work."

"Oh!" Hermione was suddenly extremely excited, setting her utensils down with a loud clang and standing up from her chair. "Whenever I had the Time Turner, I documented the dimensions and everything they told me about the time-to-turn translation so I could do the Arithmancy calculations in my spare time!" She was speaking rapidly and Theo’s enthusiasm was rising, causing him to stand up with her. “I have them!” With that, she exited the room in a hurry.

Theo vibrated with excitement, reaching for his wand to retrieve a small file from his coat pocket and enlarging it. "We've lost him," Blaise whined. "He's going to be on about this for hours; we may as well find something to do while he gets it out of his system."

"If Hermione is involved, it will be much longer," Draco responded with fondness as Hermione came barreling back into the dining room, her beaded bag in hand.

She summoned a journal out of the bag and gestured for Theo to move to the untouched end of the table. "It should be in this one," she said with determination, flipping through the pages as Theo watched over her shoulder.

Blaise let out a resigned sigh and began gathering dishes with Pansy. As they made their way to the kitchen, Draco remained where he was seated, taking a moment to watch Hermione. He wasn't focusing on the conversation between the two, too busy admiring the way her face became illuminated with the topic as she pointed between the drawings in her journal and the drawing on Theo's parchment.

When Theo spoke, she watched him with furrowed eyebrows, completely engulfed in whatever he was explaining. When she understood what he was getting at, her face reflected her understanding, her eyes sparkling as she supplied him with answers and suggestions. While explaining something, she reached into her bag and pulled out blank parchment and a quill, leaning over the table as she began scratching numbers onto the parchment.

Draco was enthralled with the sight, the same way he was completely enthralled when she had explained the plans for the potions lab. She was always beautiful, but there was something magical about the way her entire being transformed when she was in her element. The fire was back in her eyes, all traces of discomfort gone from her being.

He wanted to bottle the moment and hoard it for himself, only releasing it when he was at his lowest so he could be reminded that a person as perfect as Hermione existed in the world and had looked at him as deserving, had laughed with him and enjoyed his company. He would never know despair again.

Chapter 25: the 1

Chapter Text

Rosé flowing with your chosen family

And it would've been sweet

If it could've been me

In my defense, I have none

For digging up the grave another time

But it would've been fun

If you would've been the one

the 1 - taylor swift

Draco excused himself so he could get ready for the day. Upon returning to his room after a shower, he discovered Theo and Blaise going through his belongings. Theo tinkered with his cell phone, while Blaise sifted through Draco's clothes.

"What are you two doing in here?" Draco groaned, closing the door and clutching the towel around his waist.

"We need something more comfortable to wear," Blaise replied, holding up a pair of Draco's Muggle jeans.

“I thought you and Hermione were working on your Time Turner stuff," Draco remarked, addressing Theo, who was now connecting a wire to the phone.

“We made some good progress on the calculation and decided we could continue our work later. Hermione is quite brilliant, I don’t know why I’m so shocked but Merlin, to have the sense to calculate all of that information on the Time Turner she had been given in third year," Theo explained, shaking his head in disbelief. "You know how many Unspeakables I approached on the information and none of them could give me anything substantial but Hermione was over there doing the calculations for fun?”

“Just propose to her already," Blaise muttered, shooting an annoyed look at Theo.

“Curb your jealousy," Draco said sweetly, snatching the Muggle jeans out of his hands.

“Let me wear some of your clothes,” Blaise demanded.

“Just transfigure what you’re wearing.”

“No way, do you know how expensive this shirt is? I’m not going to taint it with magic," Blaise replied, unbuttoning his shirt.

“Fine but you have to give my clothes back before you leave,” Draco relented.

A few minutes later, the three men were clothed in Draco’s Muggle apparel and sprawled on his bed as Theo finished explaining how to charge the phone. Guilt still simmered in his gut knowing that he had panicked the Slytherins so much simply because he didn’t know how to charge his phone but he refused to continue dwelling on it and instead focus on their day together.

“Where’s Pansy?”

“She’s out back with Granger again. They’re quite scary together, I think they could take over the world if they deemed it necessary," Blaise said from his place sprawled across the left side of the bed looking entirely too comfortable.

Theo was half sitting, half laying at the headboard on the right side of the bed, his head close to Blaise’s, “I think the American air is doing you some good, I haven’t seen you look this much like yourself since before sixth year.”

“I like it out here,” Draco admitted, settling into a more comfortable position, laying over Blaise’s feet so he was sideways across the bed, “I needed a break from London.”

“It’s almost like we’ve been telling you that for the last year," Blaise commented, raising an eyebrow.

Theo cut in, “Yes, but you’ve been on probation and haven’t exactly been amiable to any of our suggestions.”

Draco gave them a guilty smile, “Yeah, I’m sorry I’ve been such a wanker the last year. I’ve learned that I’ve not been coping very well.”

“I’m shocked, are you telling me that drinking yourself into oblivion and wallowing in self-hatred isn’t productive?” Blaise retorted with a mocking gasp.

Draco playfully pinched Blaise's leg, prompting a yelp and a retaliatory kick. Draco, however, was ready, swiftly wrapping his arms around Blaise's legs, preventing any further movement, all the while wearing a mischievous smirk.

“Stop it," Theo commanded, his tone stern. "You’re shaking the whole bloody bed.”

“Tell that to Draco! He pinched me first!” Blaise squirmed against Draco's grip with renewed strength.

“You’ll survive," Draco quipped, maintaining his hold until Blaise finally stopped moving. Draco released his legs, continuing to smirk as Blaise glared at him.

“Should we address the Blast-Ended Skrewt in the room then?”

“No.”

“Come on, Draco, tell us all the juicy details," Blaise teased, poking Draco with his foot.

Draco swatted his foot away, giving him a warning look. "She said we shouldn’t complicate things and I feel like speaking about it would be complicating it.”

“Telling us how it happened won’t complicate it. Catching feelings for her would complicate it," Theo remarked, studying Draco with a calculating gaze.

Draco shifted so he was sitting upright in the bed, his legs crossed as he faced Theo, “I’m not catching feelings.”

“f*ck," Theo sighed, closing his eyes and throwing his head back.

“What?” Draco snapped.

Blaise spoke up, "We’ve spent enough time with you to know when you’re lying and that was such a lie, I’m almost offended you expected us to believe you.”

The two men were now gazing at him, concern evident on their faces. He wanted to be more believable and deny that he was starting to develop feelings for Hermione but they knew him too well. So he started making excuses instead.

“I can’t help it. She’s bloody incredible, I would be a fool not to be interested in her but I know she has no desire to be with me so I’m leaving it alone. I’ll spend these last few days enjoying what I can and then I’ll go back to London and forget it was ever a possibility.”

Theo sighed heavily, "Just keep your mind clear and remember this is temporary. Even if she ends up reciprocating those feelings, you still can't stay here. Your probation is almost finished, and being here is already a huge risk."

"I know," Draco responded with finality, masking the hurt Theo's words had caused. He had secretly hoped for advice that might encourage him to stay with Hermione, but he understood the impossibility of the situation. "Let's go downstairs."

When they descended the stairs and rejoined the women, a flutter stirred in Draco's stomach as Hermione bestowed upon him a radiant smile. She quickly announced that they needed to go to the grocery store and offered to go alone but the group was very enthusiastic to go together so they all made their way to Draco’s rental car.

The Slytherins spent the entire drive ribbing him about his choice of radio station and debating whether he should be the one behind the wheel, considering his lack of training. Throughout the playful banter, Hermione laughed wholeheartedly, reveling in the teasing directed at Draco. Despite the constant jibes, he found it hard to be upset when blessed by the music of her melodic laughter.

The visit to the grocery store proved unremarkable; the Slytherins were already well-versed in Muggle establishments. Draco felt somewhat inferior as Blaise teased him for seeking clarification on certain items. Pansy and Hermione, clearly irritated by the men's ceaseless bickering, sent them off to pick up alcohol at the liquor store next door while they finished up the shopping.

After arriving back at the house, they all put away the groceries before all of them except for Blaise headed to the backyard to begin a tour of all of Hermione’s projects at Theo’s insistence.

They entered the greenhouse, Theo keeping pace with Hermione and asking her questions as she pointed out the different plants and environmental charms in place.

As soon as Draco crossed the threshold into the greenhouse following behind Pansy, his senses were flooded with the warm, buzzing energy of the magic in place around them. He was so accustomed to the constant presence of magic around him having grown up in places that were saturated with ancient magic. He had never dwelled on the energy around him, as it was constant, but being in the Muggle world for so long it felt as though his senses regarding magic had become heightened.

His body relaxed as the magic around him settled into his skin. It felt like home and as Pansy walked with him around the space, keeping a good distance from Hermione and Theo, he was beginning to notice the differences between the charms placed by him and Hermione. His magic was warm and familiar, while hers was electric.

“You helped her with all of this?” Pansy asked, her eyes intense as she looked at him, effectively snapping him out of his inner monologue.

“Yes, I helped my mother with her garden enough that I had some useful input," Draco replied. Trying to steer the conversation toward Pansy and Hermione, he prodded, "You and Hermione seem to be getting along well."

Pansy confirmed their connection with a simple "Yes." Draco waited for more details, but the silence persisted.

“How was your conversation with her?”

“Stop being so nosy," Pansy retorted, raising an eyebrow.

He stopped walking and crossed his arms. “I’m just curious what you spoke about.”

She stopped with him and leveled him with an annoyed look, “If you must know, I apologized for the way I treated her in school. We compared our experiences in the wizarding world and realized we have a lot in common. That’s all," She responded nonchalantly, though her avoidant eyes betrayed a hidden truth.

He wanted to prod her and demand to know everything but he knew she would respect Hermione’s boundaries so he just sighed and continued their slow stroll through the rows of raised beds.

This time it was Pansy who broke the silence, “Are you going to continue being her friend when you leave?”

“Of course. We haven’t discussed it but I’m hoping we can stay in communication.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her looking at him carefully before she responded, “From the conversation she and I had earlier I have a feeling she’s in need of friends .”

The sentence spoke volumes, she could read him as easily as the others and she must have known he was in the midst of an internal battle over his feelings for Hermione.

“I know. We’re friends. Nothing more.”

First he had Hermione’s incessant demands that they not complicate things, then there were the words exchanged with Theo in his bedroom earlier and now he has Pansy warning him to keep their relationship platonic. He knew that a deeper relationship with Hermione was impossible but he couldn’t help the way he yearned for more.

Their walk around the greenhouse was silent and Draco was suddenly filled with bitterness. He wanted to enjoy the day, not spend his time worrying over what would happen when he left but with Pansy’s comment his hopes were dashed. Had Hermione made a comment about his infatuation? Did she realize how much time he was spending hoping for some sort of future with her?

If Hermione knew that he was feeling something romantic towards her, why would she ask to kiss him? He wished they were alone so he could ask her.

As they concluded their greenhouse tour and rejoined Theo and Hermione, Draco forced on a fake smile.

Theo was gesturing to the section of Asphodel. “I’m sure you know Asphodel has a very slow growth time so if you ever find yourself needing any on short notice you’re welcome to reach out to me. I have some connections with my investing and I could easily get you any potions ingredients you may be missing. I’ve figured out the best way to ship potion ingredients via Muggle shipping without endangering the ingredients.”

“That would be great, there are a few ingredients I couldn’t get a hold of before I left. Can I give you my email?”

“Absolutely! I can leave you my card, it has my email and cellphone number. I could get you ingredients, seeds, anything really. I know it’s hard to access those things out here and I’m always sending out packages so it would be no bother.” He was rubbing his neck sheepishly, trying not to seem overeager at her acceptance but Draco could see through it.

Hermione was giving him her signature dazzling smile, “That would be perfect. Thank you so much for offering. Now, let me show you the potions lab. I designed it after one of Snape’s plans.” With that, the group exited and made their way towards the house.

A little bit of Draco’s bitterness dulled seeing Hermione getting along so well with Theo and accepting his offer but the uncertainty still sat heavily in his gut so as the group moved to the back door, he announced he would be staying in the backyard to get some fresh air.

The group was unaffected by this except for Pansy who gave him a sad, knowing smile that he pointedly ignored.

He made his way to the cliff’s edge, the same spot Hermione had been at when he had to talk her off the ledge. He wondered if he looked closely enough in the grass if he could see the traces of her blood, evidence of that haunting night. Instead of focusing on that, he watched the waves below and tried to calm himself but with each deep breath he took, he felt like his chest was getting tighter and tighter.

He wished that the weather would reflect his internal conflict but the sun still shined through the clouds above, creating a pleasant heat that battled against the chilly breeze. The surface of the ocean reflected the sun, creating a glittering effect that was washed in a blue hue. His long hair whipped against his face and only furthered the feeling of suffocation that was working through him.

He felt like he was on top of the world the day before after that heated kiss with Hermione but now he found himself second guessing everything. She had kissed him after he admitted to never having slept with anyone, did she kiss him out of pity? Or because she wanted to?

He had too many unanswered questions and no way to discuss them with Hermione since his friends would be around for the entire day.

He was ecstatic to spend time with them since it had been so long since the four of them had been together but now he felt like the clock was ticking. His time with Hermione was limited and now he would have one less day alone with her. After today, he had five days of uninterrupted time. It was technically the halfway point of his trip and surely it would be enough time to sort out where they stood with each other.

Everything will be fine and your friendship with Hermione will last beyond this trip.

He repeated the sentence until he could breathe properly but he knew deep down that he was grasping at straws, telling himself what he wanted to hear, knowing it may not be true.

After he was finished with his pity party, Draco returned to the house, finding Blaise still lounging on the couch where he had deposited himself after the trip to town. Draco sat on the loveseat and opened his book, determined to lose himself in Jane Austen’s writing. After the small group completed their tour of the potions lab, Pansy and Theo began making food while Hermione started placing bottles of wine into her beaded bag and when Blaise inquired why they were doing so, Hermione simply responded that they were having a picnic for lunch.

Draco found himself in a similar situation to the night before, tripping over branches and rocks as he trailed behind Hermione. This time he didn’t have to internalize his complaints as Blaise seemed set on complaining enough for the whole group. Pansy kept snapping at him to shut up but within a few minutes he would start up again full force.

When Hermione announced a picnic, he assumed they would be returning to the meadow from the day before but when they began walking from the house, they started in the opposite direction.

The clear skies allowed the group to hike without the annoyance of rain but Blaise still found it in himself to complain about how wet the ground was. Draco was about to yell at Blaise himself when the trees finally thinned and their destination came into view.

“The beach? Are you mental, Hermione?” Draco mumbled, the cold breeze biting at his face.

She rolled her eyes, “We have magic, Draco.”

“Yes, Draco, stop being such a buzzkill," Pansy remarked sweetly, passing him to walk side-by-side with Hermione.

Hermione laughed at Pansy’s venom and began speaking quietly with the woman while Draco just wondered what alternate dimension he had traveled to.

He slowed his walking so he was in step with Theo who looked excited as the group exited the treeline. The beach they had come to was a small alcove of rocks with tall walls of cliff on either side, the waves hitting the rocks a few dozen yards from the trail end they had come in from. He just looked around awkwardly, very unconvinced of how enjoyable this beach picnic was going to be when the ground was unstable and rocky and the breeze was alarmingly chilly.

When he looked to Blaise, he could see the man was as unenthusiastic as he was at the prospect of dining on the ground. Theo made his way to the girls and they spoke inaudibly for a few moments before they all raised their wands in unison.

Pansy’s wand was trained towards the rocky ground and with one incantation, the rocks around them collapsed into piles of dark gray sand. She smiled, pleased with her work and then walked around the beach, repeating it until the entire ground was free of any rock.

Theo and Hermione had their wands trained toward the sky, a blanket of gold extending past them and growing until it surrounded the entire alcove in a shield. Hermione extracted her wand from the shield and Theo held it together while she began another spell. Within moments, the temperature increased dramatically and that enchanted sunlight he had experienced in the meadow was duplicated over the beach. The breeze from the ocean was almost non-existent, only a light breeze filtering its way through the barrier and the only other sound in the area was the soft pounding of the waves against the sandy beach.

When they both lowered their wands, the shield around the alcove became invisible but the warmth persisted. They smiled at each other and exchanged a quick high five.

“f*ck yeah, magic," Blaise chanted, kicking off his shoes and walking toward the group.

Draco remained at the treeline, observing as the four of them extracted items from Hermione's bag. They set up the picnic basket and blanket, enlarging it to accommodate the group. With the wind no longer impeding his hearing, Draco caught all the bickering about whether white or red wine was more suitable for a beach picnic. Even Hermione joined in, insisting that red wine was always the right choice, a sentiment Pansy enthusiastically supported.

Gods, he loved them so much.

He froze at that realization. While he cherished the Slytherins, he couldn't possibly feel the same way about Hermione after only a few days. Yet, the sentiment felt undeniable; he loved the group before him. They embraced and understood him despite his flaws and stubbornness, and even Hermione had done the same.

As these thoughts raced through his mind, Hermione caught his eye mid-laugh. She smiled and waved him over, with Theo and Blaise doing the same. Draco quickly shook off those thoughts and crossed the sand to join them.

“Draco, please tell them that white wine is much more logical when drinking on the beach.” Blaise implored.

“I see nothing wrong with having both.” He responded diplomatically as he removed his shoes before kneeling on the blanket between Hermione and Theo.

On the blanket, there was a full spread similar to the picnic he and Hermione shared the evening before but this time there was significantly more food. Pansy had created a spread of cheese, meat, bread, and jam for snacking on while Theo had made classic tea sandwiches. They had also brought along half a dozen wine bottles which felt like overkill until Blaise started pouring the wine into the wine glasses and he made his way through an entire bottle just giving each of them a glass.

With the spread complete and the glasses full, the group started shedding their outer layers and creating a pile of coats on the far side of the blanket.

“This is lovely.” Theo sighed, lounging on his side as he took the first sip of his wine, “It reminds me of the lake at the Manor.”

“Do you think we could warm up the water and swim? Like when we used to swim in the winter?” Blaise asked around a mouthful of bread.

“I’m not sure.” Theo responded, “It would be a bit more complicated to warm the water with it moving so much and being so vast.”

Hermione, who was sitting with her knees pulled up to her chest and was nibbling the edges of a slice of cheese, began speaking, “If you cast a containment charm around a manageable section of the water you could easily warm up that area.”

“Brilliant.” Theo beamed at her.

She just waved her hand dismissively as Draco reached for the radio and turned it on low volume.

Pansy took a long drink of her wine and moved her long hair behind her shoulder, “So, Granger, what are you going to do with your freedom?”

The group ate their tea sandwiches quietly as she seemed to contemplate the question.

“You know, Draco asked me the same thing.” She smiled to herself, her eyes trained on the picnic blanket as she spoke, “I’m just gonna stay here, learn how to be my own person, and figure my plans out as I go. Right now I’m quite content with simply existing and moving on from the War–from everything.”

Blaise was the one to respond, “It’s quite exciting. Getting away from the wizarding world.” He reached for another bottle of wine, “The wizarding world always felt so vast and interesting growing up but now it just feels restrictive.”

Hermione nodded in agreement, “That’s exactly how I feel. Is that why you decided to move to Muggle London?”

“It’s part of the reason,” he admitted, pouring more wine and passing the bottle to Theo, who refilled everyone’s glasses. “Getting into Muggle culture started as a bit of teenage rebellion for Theo and I. It was fun at first, sneaking into Muggle London to buy cigarettes and alcohol to sneak into Hogwarts, but after a while it really got us to start questioning the things we grew up believing.”

Draco recalled the first time Theo and Blaise had convinced him to sneak out to the Black Lake in third year, revealing a pack of Muggle cigarettes. He had initially refused, but by the third time, he joined them, making it a weekly ritual.

“In sixth year Theo and I spent a weekend in Muggle London and experienced everything we could and by the end of it we promised that no matter how the War ended we would find a way to get out of the wizarding world together.” He was gazing at Theo with a slight smile, like he was trying to hide his fondness towards the man.

Theo blushed slightly, looking down at the picnic blanket while running his hands through his curls.

Jealousy hit Draco like a knife between his ribs. In sixth year he was distancing himself from his friends to protect them, doing the bidding of the Dark Lord while they were making plans for the future. He was always working hard to shift the focus away from the two men so they would never be forced to take the Mark, instead offering up Crabbe and Goyle as new recruits.

He would do it a million times again but knowing that they had been so ahead of him in realizing the flaws in their ideology induced such an intense jealousy within him. He wished he hadn’t been put into such a terrible position so young and hadn't been blinded by the people around him and their views on Muggles. He knew it wasn’t fair to compare their situations but it made him feel inferior, like he couldn’t see past his own idiocy long enough to acknowledge that wizards were not superior to Muggles or more deserving of living. He had started doubting it early into his Hogwarts experience but he just buried his doubts until he was full of hatred instead.

“I’m happy it all worked out for you guys.” Hermione responded quietly, taking a sip of her wine.

“And I’m happy it’s worked out for you, Granger. If anyone deserves to escape the wizarding world it’s you.” Blaise interjected, raising his glass dramatically, causing the red liquid to slosh out of the side, “A toast to Hermione Granger and her doing whatever the f*ck she wants!” he bellowed, prompting laughter from Hermione and eye-rolls from the rest.

They raised their glasses, leaning across the space, clinking them together. As Draco moved his glass towards Hermione’s, she caught his eye, revealing a hint of sadness behind her smile. She quickly averted his gaze, drinking from her glass, her hair falling in front of her face, concealing it from him.

Draco tried not to dwell on Hermione’s reaction as the group continued eating and drinking. The conversation covered various topics, but Hermione offered only brief responses, seemingly lost in thought. Draco took it upon himself to keep the conversation flowing, preventing her from being put on the spot.

With the food consumed and the wine slowing down, the three Slytherins shed their clothes until they were in their undergarments, heading to the shoreline with their wands to prepare the water for swimming.

Draco and Hermione changed positions so they were facing the water, glasses still in hand and silence heavy in the space between them.

After a few minutes, the two men ran into the waves, seemingly pleased with whatever spells they had utilized while Pansy sat on the sand, out of earshot from the pair on the picnic blanket.

“Are you alright, Hermione?” Draco asked cautiously, his gaze probing her face as a light breeze made her curls dance.

“Yeah, I’m just a bit distracted today.” She smiled at him, but he sensed her act. The smile didn’t reach her eyes; they still harbored some underlying sadness.

“You can tell me whatever’s on your mind. I won’t be offended if my friends’ presence has upset you in some way.”

“I’m not upset,” she sighed, “I think I’m just jealous.”

“Jealous?”

“Yes, jealous of your friendship.”

“What do you mean?”

“I just can’t help but feel envious of the fact that you have this incredible group of friends. It must be nice to be loved like that.” Her voice trembled slightly, but she continued with more certainty, “I used to be able to lie to myself that Harry and Ron loved me unconditionally. But seeing the four of you, I’ve realized I’ve been blind to reality. If they showed up at my door, there would be nothing but anger and resentment. I just worry I will never have a friendship as significant again.”

Draco's heart ached for her. He was captivated by this woman, and witnessing how Potter and Weasley treated her disgusted him. She was effortlessly approachable—intelligent, with dry humor and wit, displaying empathy on a level that amazed him. The thought of her questioning her worthiness of friendship deeply saddened him.

“I won’t pretend to understand the depths of your relationship with Potter and Weasley before or during the War, but I can vouch for the friendship that comes along with these guys.” He gestured towards the three Slytherins, “If you have room in your heart for a bunch of annoying Slytherins, they would gladly have you.”

“I’m not sure. They're only here to make sure you're safe.”

“If they were only interested in my safety, they would have left after tea. Pansy rarely gets along with anyone, but she seems to be enjoying your company, and Theo is one conversation away from proposing to you.”

“I think he’s a little preoccupied with Blaise.”

Theo and Blaise were deep in the water, Blaise was grappling onto Theo’s side with one arm while the other was splashing water into the man’s face. Theo was laughing uncontrollably, desperately trying to shake him off while Blaise just looked at him with a fond look and kept up his relentless assault.

Draco couldn’t help but smile as he watched them.

“So you’ve noticed their peculiar relationship?” He turned back to Hermione, observing her watching the men.

“Yes. I’m still trying to figure it out, though.”

“Good luck with that,” he chuckled, turning back to see the men swimming towards the shore where Pansy basked in the sun, her long hair forming a halo around her head and her legs caressed by saltwater with each tide. “They’re desperately in love with each other but in deep denial about it.”

“Why are they in denial?” She inquired.

“They never talk about it with me, but I think they’re both afraid to jeopardize their friendship.”

“That’s understandable.” She opened her mouth to continue speaking but she was interrupted by a loud screech as Theo and Blaise each took one of Pansy’s legs and began dragging her into the water.

“Let go of me, you oafs! I’ll f*cking kill you!”

Draco and Hermione both began laughing softly as they watched on in disbelief. Pansy was kicking her legs and managed to flip onto her stomach, clawing at the sand as if she could stop the force of the two men pulling her deeper into the water.

Locking eyes with Hermione, Pansy pleaded with a yell, “Granger, help me, I am begging you!”

Hermione laughed and jumped to her feet so he did the same. She began shedding her clothes as Theo called out, “Draco! Help us!”

“Pansy’s being lame and won’t come swim with us!” Blaise added.

He rolled his eyes but began unclothing himself as well until he was left in his undergarments. Hermione was slightly quicker than him and he tried to ignore the heat that fled south as he watched her jog towards Pansy, clad in a black, satin bra and matching underwear that left nothing to the imagination.

He was frozen in place, his ears warm and his mouth slightly agape, until he caught sight of Blaise watching him, a wicked smile on his face as he winked at him. Draco huffed, making his way to the shore where Hermione was now helping Pansy up.

The two men were laughing hysterically, retreating into the water as Hermione and Pansy chased after them with murder in their eyes. By the time Draco waded into the warm saltwater, Pansy and Hermione were dragging Theo and Blaise under the water, dunking their heads as they laughed with evil grins in place.

It was almost comical seeing this group of full grown adults acting like children as they squealed and splashed each other. Draco remembered saying a particular sentiment to Hermione on the night of their bonfire about how they never got to have the teenage experience, they had been too busy fighting a war. It felt like they were finally able to make up for lost time and enjoy doing childish things now that their problems were less severe.

With each bout of laughter shared with the group, Draco could feel the distance he had created between himself and his friends shrink. He had spent almost two years of his life building up a barrier around himself in fear that if anyone got too close they would see how broken he was after the War. But unknowingly he had created a glass barrier, everyone around him could see his struggle and he was just left alone in that prison of glass, unable to heal. He just got worse while everyone he loved had to look on helplessly.

But this day, full of warmth and laughter, was healing something within himself. He had longed for those summer nights with the Slytherins before the War and had convinced himself they were a thing of their past.

But there he was, free from the restraints of the War, deep in the Muggle world, enjoying a simple day of swimming and drinking with the people he loved.