The Future That Waits (PG-13) for suprockstar
Title: The Future That Waits
Author:
Pairing: Draco/Hermione
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: A few curse words here and there. Compliant with all books.
Summary: Your life is defined by its opportunities... even the ones you miss.
Notes:I want to thank my betas: catalinay, cindas, and becauseshecan. They seriously helped me more than words can say. Any mistakes in here are my own. Also, suprockstar, I'm sorry if this isn't what you were looking for in your request. I'd written one version of this story, submitted it and then realized that I absolutely hated it. So I wrote this one in a very short amount of time. I wanted more angst per your request, but it just wasn't happening! Enjoy.
Your life is defined by its opportunities... even the ones you miss.
- Benjamin Button, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button.
1.
His memory seems to be shit these days. It’s almost as though he can't remember anything anymore. Wait, scratch that; there are certain things he can remember. The important things, he supposes. He can remember his first ride on a broom, but can’t remember when he lost his first tooth. He can recite the names of the greatest Wizards ever to have lived and their infamous quotes, but he can never seem to remember someone’s name fifteen minutes after meeting them.
He doesn’t know if it’s a blessing or a curse, losing his memory. A blessing, he decides. After all, if it’s not going to stick in his head, then it’s obviously not important.
Except one thing, he concedes. One thing that he can’t seem to get a grasp on. A memory that he knows is there, but he can’t seem to find.
He can’t remember the moment he fell for her; can’t remember at what point hate turned to disdain, which turned to indifference, which turned to like. Although like seems to be too light of a word and love… well, love just seems too heavy.
No, he doesn’t like the word love at all. He banishes the word often, especially when he finds himself thinking of her and the word manages to drift into his head and settle in. How can he love someone - wait, scratch that - how can he love her, when he doesn’t even remember why?
He wishes he could dismiss the need to figure it out, the way he’s able to dismiss everything else in his life. But there’s something there that keeps him holding on, even when he knows he should let go.
It’s moments like this, moments when these stray, random thoughts just float into his head and try as he might, he just can’t will them away. Moments when he’s reading the Daily Prophet and comes across her name and there’s an ache in the pit of his stomach that he just can’t ignore.
And as he watches her across the road the thoughts, although fleeting, are there. He looks at her, really looks at her, and tries to pinpoint something, anything, that might clue him in to his obsession. His eyes graze her features and he finds them common. There’s nothing striking about her eyes, they’re brown and ordinary. Her nose is slightly upturned with sprinkles of freckles dashed across it. Her hair, well… that’s a completely different story. He tries to go a different route. Maybe it’s something in her personality, but no, he knows that to be a lie. Everyone who knows her knows that she possesses some rather unflattering traits. She’s rash and stubborn, way too head strong, and has a tendency to devour a book and spit out the contents a short time later. She’s sanctimonious and has quite the mouth on her. There is nothing soft or lady like about her at all.
So, he wonders, if she’s just an ordinary looking girl with an atrocious personality to boot, then why am I standing here like a fool? Why am I losing sleep?
The questions, he finds, always come easily. The answers he seeks are still at a loss. It seems hopeless for him, trying to figure out something like this.
He clutches the parcel tighter between his hands and gives one last withering look her way, ready to push her out of his thoughts indefinitely, when her eyes meet his.
And suddenly, he sees his answers.
2.
He could feel people staring at him, disgust marring their features. He wondered if it would always be this way; if he would always be looked at like a piece of scum.
His family's recent acquittal was enough to make him breathe a sigh of relief, but when he stepped back into the world he had to wonder if it made a difference.
The jeers and the snarls were enough to make him want to go into hiding indefinitely.
He kept his head down and shoulders slumped as he walked. His left forearm ached and he knew it was a phantom pain, something akin to guilt. He had no part in the war, and thanks to his mother and Harry Potter, the Wizengamot acknowledged that.
When Potter defeated The Dark Lord, people celebrated. They praised all who fought and sacrificed their lives in the war, and began to rebuild. Lucius Malfoy had even donated generously to the cause. Draco didn't bother asking his father why he had; he chalked it up to wanting to get the Malfoy name back into good light and maybe a little guilt.
Whatever the reason was, it didn't matter. The war was over and people united. There was still reconstruction to be done, people to honor and a new world to build.
3.
"-- Evil --"
"-- Death Eater scum --"
"-- Deserves to rot --"
Although a fresh start was proclaimed, he should've known he wasn't allowed that luxury. He would forever be associated with everything evil and wrong, and even though everyone was so keen on forgetting about The Dark Lord's existence, he was the constant reminder that he had existed.
4.
The first time Draco Malfoy saw Hermione Granger since school had ended had been on a horrible night. He had gone to The Leaky Cauldron, willing himself to ignore the stares as he settled at the bar. He had been enjoying his Fire Whiskey when he heard someone approach him from behind.
"You're not welcome here."
Draco looked unflinchingly into the face of the man in front of him. He racked his brain, trying to remember his name, but fell short. He was sure he went to school with this person, maybe he lost someone in the war. Maybe the bloke just didn't like him. So Draco turned away from the nameless face and went back to drinking his fire whiskey.
"You look at me when I'm talking to you, you piece of filth!"
Draco did.
"You should be rotting in Azkaban! You've got no right being here," nameless face sneered. "You --"
Draco clenched his fist underneath the table. He would not say anything back. He would not fight back. He couldn't. If everyone wanted to form a line and get their digs in, then let them. He'd rather take the insults to his face, rather then endure any more whispers.
"That's enough, Ernie," some other nameless face said quietly, gently pulling Ernie away.
"No!" Ernie said, yanking his arm from his companion. "Look at him, Justin. Just look at him. Looking all pathetic, sipping on his drink, not caring. He's the reason Dumbledore's dead. He's fucking scum. He won't even look me in the eye --" Ernie leaned against the counter and peered at Draco, a sneer marring his features. "You fucking piece of shit."
Draco chanced a look at the bloke. He remembered who he was. Ernie Macmillan. Former Hufflepuff. Pure-Blood.
"I lied," Ernie sneered. "You don't deserve Azkaban. You deserve to rot in hell. Along with Voldemort." And he spat in his face.
"That's enough, Ernie!" A voice interrupted and Draco found himself looking at Hermione Granger. She wedged herself between Draco and Ernie. Hermione looked up at Ernie, disappointment set on her face, "That's enough," she said again, quietly.
Draco grabbed a napkin and wiped the spit from his face. He couldn't look at anyone. He knew he deserved more than that.
"Justin," Hermione nodded towards Ernie's companion. "Take him over there, would you? I think he's had a bit much to drink tonight."
"This isn't over, you fucking tosser!" Ernie seethed, but he allowed Justin to pull him away.
Finally Hermione turned around and looked at Draco. "Are you okay?" she asked quietly.
Draco grabbed money out of his pocket and slammed it on the counter. "Peachy," he sneered.
He turned around and headed out the door. He could feel the looks burn into his back. The air in the room was heavy and thick. He needed to breathe.
When he made his way outside, he rested his head against the cold brick wall. He took sharp, greedy breaths, hoping to appease the ache in his lungs.
"Malfoy."
Draco spun around, his hand clutching his wand.
"Go away," he snapped.
"Look, I just wanted to check on you --" Hermione stuttered.
"Why are you here, Granger?"
She looked at him for a moment, "I always come to The Leaky Cauldron on Fridays --"
"No," he snapped impatiently, "Not here. Here."
"Oh," she blushed and looked away. "I don't know. You-- you looked like you could use some help."
"I don't need anyone's help, least of all yours!" he snapped.
"I beg to differ," she said quietly.
He turned around and stabbed a finger in the air, "Let's get this straight, shall we? I'm not some fucking charity case, you got that? Weasel and Potter might like you being like a fucking mother hen, but I don't. I don't need your assistance. I don't need your fucking coddling. I'm a big boy and I can handle myself."
Her cheeks tinged a dark pink and she glared at him, "Fine. My apologies, Malfoy."
He was still angry though. So angry he wanted to punch a wall, so he did. When that didn't satisfy him, he edged closer to Hermione until they were practically sharing air.
"Look at you," he sneered. "Basking in your virtue . What do you want, Granger? Hm? You want to save the big bad Death Eater? Give me a chance of salvation?"
She looked up at him then, her breath coming out in small white puffs, "I just thought I could help, that's all. You don't --"
"I don't what?" he asked, edging closer. "Come on, Granger. Out with it. Let's hear those words of wisdom that you keep in that big bushy head of yours."
Hermione winced as her back hit the wall behind her. "I just thought you could use a friend."
He laughed just then. To anyone who didn't know him, they would have thought it was loud and boisterous. Hermione knew better. It was a hollow laugh, one without any mirth. "A friend?" he asked with a chuckle. "You are completely off your bird you know that? A friend? A fucking friend? Please tell me, Granger, what really brings you here? Did you lose a bet? Have a revelation? Or do you just have a knack for finding something you think needs to be saved?"
Hermione pushed past him, "Forget I ever said anything."
"You don't get to show me pity!" Draco called out. "You should be in there with the rest of them. You should be the first one to spit in my face. If it were you, I'd be the first in line."
Hermione stopped mid step and turned around, "That may be, Malfoy but I'm not like them." She looked up at the night sky and then back at him, "No one deserves that. Not even you."
He was silent as he watched her walk away.
5.
He returned the next Friday. He didn't know why. Maybe he was glutton for self-punishment; or maybe it was to settle the guilt he felt from the week before. He honestly didn't know why he felt so guilty for being that way with Granger, just that he did.
He found her sitting at the bar, staring into her butterbeer. He walked slowly and took the empty seat next to her.
Hermione looked over at him, blinked and then stiffened. He signaled to Tom for his usual drink and looked at Hermione.
"Fancy seeing you here," he said.
"I come here every Friday," she answered, stiffly.
"So you mentioned," he retorted.
Hermione kept her gaze on the bar counter, absently drawing invisible patterns on the wood surface.
"I --"
"What do you want, Malfoy?" Hermione asked suddenly.
"I've taken a fancy to this place," he said simply.
"Why are you here?" she asked
"I thought I just answered that?"
"No, why are you here?" she repeated again, this time with a lift of her eyebrows.
Draco chuckled lowly at her using his words from before. "I thought you could use a friend."
"What? What are you on --" She glared at him, "You're mocking me."
He shook his head, "Not at all."
She glared harder.
"Okay," he conceded and he raised his thumb and index finger. "Maybe just a little."
"You're not funny," she snapped.
His lips twitched, "I thought it was pretty funny."
Hermione took a deep breath and looked at him, "You never answered my question."
"Which was?"
"Why are you here?"
He hesitated before answering, "I don't know."
She took a drink of her butterbeer and stayed silent.
He was sipping the fire whiskey Tom had set before him moments before when Hermione spoke again.
"Your father made another generous donation to the Ministry."
He quirked a brow, "So he did."
"That was, uh, very thoughtful of him," she said quietly.
"I suppose."
"I mean... I can't..."
"Look, Granger, if you're looking to me to find out his motives for the donations, then you're not going to get any answers. Your guess is as good as mine. Maybe he feels loads of guilt, or maybe he's just trying to show the world that Lucius Malfoy doesn't, in fact, have a little black shriveled heart."
She smiled, "Duly noted."
"So why do you come here anyway?" he asked.
"What do you mean?"
"Exactly that. I thought you and the Weasel would've been off and married by now. Living in a luxurious one bedroom shack with about six ginger spawn by now."
She glared at him.
"I'm joking," he amended. "We've only been out of school for a short time. So I guess the correct assumption would be about three ginger haired spawn."
"I don't know who told you that you were funny, but you're not," Hermione sniffed.
"What?" he asked. "Everyone knows the breeding rate for Weasley's. Astronomical, if I say so myself."
"Sod off," Hermione said, but she smiled just a little. "Ron and I are friends. Besides, he's dating someone right now."
"Amazing…." Draco said.
"What?"
"That Weasel managed to find someone blind, deaf and dumb to put up with him."
"You're such a prat!" Hermione gasped. "Can't you ever just be nice?"
He smirked, "Granger if I did that, then I wouldn't be me."
"What about you?" she asked.
"What about me?"
"Why aren't you at the Manor, strutting about while you beat house elves?"
He winced, "Okay, first of all, Malfoy's don't 'strut', it's called swagger and second, define beat."
She looked appalled, "You better be joking again, Malfoy."
He raised his hands in surrender. "I am."
Hermione narrowed her eyes, "Right. So why aren't you married yet? Don't Malfoys entrap some lucky girl into a marriage contract early on?"
He looked at her, "Wait, what? Entrap --? Where are you getting your supposed facts from?"
"Pure Blooded Gits and Their Pure Blooded Ways," Hermione said smugly.
He quirked a brow, "Oh? And what section of the library was this in?"
"Pure Blooded Gits of course."
"Of course," he murmured, a hint of a smile playing at his lips.
"No, but really, shouldn't you be working on continuing that wonderful Malfoy lineage?"
"Ah, contrary to the popular belief, all the women in the Malfoy family by marriage are willing, and yes there is a marriage contract being presented, right as we speak."
"Oh? Who's the lucky lady then?"
"Astoria Greengrass."
"Well," Hermione smiled and raised her own glass. "Congratulations are in order then."
6.
Maybe whatever he feels for her now started that day in The Leaky Cauldron. The day when she offered to ignore his past and allow him a fresh start; the day she offered her hand in friendship.
He knows that his stubborn ways never got him anywhere in life. He was content on puffing up his chest and strolling around like he was a man. But, in all reality, he was just a boy then. A boy who had shoes too big to fill; a boy who simply needed a friend.
There was much more to Hermione Granger than anyone could ever know. He can see how someone could be drawn to her. She had this air that surrounded her, the confidence in which she carried herself. There was the smile she had, her real smile, the one meant for certain people. The one that makes him rock back on the balls of his feet and makes his heart jump leaps and bounds before it settles back in his chest.
7.
The next Friday, he returned. He never thought he would acknowledge something like this, but being around Hermione Granger made him feel normal. It wasn't like they were friends, not really, but she looked him in the eyes when she addressed him. He didn't know what he did to warrant her forgiveness, but he took it.
He still felt the small pang of guilt when he sat with her. He knew what he put her through in school, what his family had done, but he couldn't change any of that. He wasn't that person anymore and he hoped it was enough.
They never talked about Dumbledore or anything else that occurred a year ago. Although it hung in the air, they didn't acknowledge it. Each time he looked at Granger, he could feel an apology weighing on the tip of his tongue. He didn't know exactly what he was apologizing for - being a prat all those years? His father trying to kill her? His crazy aunt torturing her without mercy? That was a mouthful of apologies and still, Draco didn't know where to start.
He still endured the sneers and the whispers, but somehow being around Hermione when it was happening seemed to make it alright.
8.
The first time Draco and Hermione had gone for a walk together was a couple of weeks later. He had been enjoying his fire whiskey while Hermione looked contemplative.
"You want to get out of here?" Hermione said suddenly.
Draco looked at his half full glass and looked at her, "What?"
"Let's take a walk," she grinned.
"..."
"Don't look at me like that," she scolded. "Come on."
"Anyone ever tell you that you look a bit mad when you smile like that?"
"What?"
"That grin you do," he waved his hand toward her. "Makes you look certifiable."
"Merlin," she sighed, putting money on the counter and tugged his robe. "Come on, let's go."
9.
The first time Draco Malfoy allowed Hermione Granger to see his weakness occurred the same night.
"Please tell me why we've left the warmth of the pub, only to come out here and freeze our arses off?"
"I thought a walk would be nice."
"A walk? Okay, you're nutters." he bit out. "It's bloody freezing out here."
Hermione rolled her eyes, "Where's your bravery?"
"That's supposed to be Griffyndor, you bint. We Slytherin's don't care too much for the cold. We were too busy being cunning and whatnot."
"Suck it up, Malfoy."
He glared at her.
"Are you done pouting now?" Hermione asked. "Come on, it's really not that bad."
"Why am I here again?" he muttered.
"Because I'm the only one who will put up with you," Hermione said, grinning.
He froze then and Hermione's smile faltered, her words sinking in. "I'm sorry, I didn't even think --"
He shook his head. "Don't be," he said stiffly, "It is the truth, right?"
"I didn't mean it like that --"
"Don't."
She sighed, "Malfoy --"
"Goddamnit, Granger, just stop," he snapped. "Don't say another word. You don't need to apologize for speaking the truth. I should've known that just because you're speaking to me, that not all is forgiven."
"What are you on about? I've got nothing --"
"But everyone else does! Look at me, Granger. I'm an outcast. I'm fucking hated. I'm the epitome of everything wrong in this world. My father has resorted to buying our way back in for Merlin's sake! I've tried to ignore the stares and the whispers; I've tried telling myself that if the Muggle Born Hermione Granger can look me in the eye and not flinch, then it's okay. It's not."
Hermione looked at him, "Malfoy, honestly... I don't think people understand --"
"Oh, and you do? What the fuck do you even know about the shit I've had to do? To have to kill someone just to appease The Dark Lord?" His voice wavered, "To know that he's given you a task just to simply watch you fail so he can kill you and your family? To live with that for the rest of your life, even though you couldn't go through with it?"
Hermione stepped forward and her hand rubbed smooth circles on the small of his back.
He could feel the ache in his chest beginning to unwind, threatening to rise into his throat until he was forced to let out a strangled sob. He tried to stare out into the night, but found that his vision was beginning to blur.
He pulled away from her, "I deserve everything I get."
"You deserve a second chance," Hermione said quietly.
She moved to him again, this time he did not pull away.
Then he did something he never thought possible. Draco Malfoy relinquished all of his heartache to Hermione Granger, and allowed her to know how damaged and broken he truly was
10.
The first time he kissed Hermione Granger was weeks after his breakdown. They had been on one of their walks and Hermione seemed down. When he pressed the issue, she did the Hermione Granger thing and sniffled and looked away.
Draco was no good when it came to women and tears. While he loved the former, he couldn't ever deal with the latter. He was always awkward when it came to comfort. So when Hermione begrudgingly told him in the midst of tears that she was thrown by how everyone seemed to move on with their lives, getting married and she wasn't even close to having that, he did the only thing he knew he could do.
He went on a spiel about how if Weasley or any other bloke didn't see Granger the way that they should have, then they were bloody idiots. He then proceeded to talk about her good qualities and how since she'd gotten her teeth fixed and her hair under control, she wasn't quite so hideous anymore.
He had to admit he felt a bit bad when she looked at him, her eyes brimming with tears.
"Oh bloody hell," he mumbled as he ran a hand through his hair, "I didn't mean it like that. My words came out wrong. Fuck."
Granger must've realized that he still lacked a sensitivity bone and weeded through the garbled mess to find those compliments because while her eyes still shined with tears, she gave him a smile of pure exhilaration. "You think I'm pretty?" she asked.
"Well, sure... yeah. I do believe I said was 'not quite hideous...'" he said uneasily.
She didn't notice his discomfort whatsoever. She must not have because why else would she throw herself into his arms like she had?
He stood there, awkwardly struggling for breath, wondering what in the bleeding hell he was supposed to do with his hands. No one ever had hugged him before. Well no one other than his mother and even then it was a bit weird. Finally he allowed the shock to fade away and wrapped his arms around her waist.
"Thank you, Draco," she sighed. "You've no idea what that means to me."
He tried not to notice that her hair was severely invading his space. It was everywhere - in his mouth, tickling his nose. He also tried not to notice that it smelled like strawberries and honey.
She pulled away then, a tinge of pink colored her cheeks, "Sorry. I'm just so emotional. I've had a long day and haven't slept right --"
His arm was still loose around her waist and the urge he felt overtook his rationality. He pulled her close and kissed her. It was awkward and perfect at the same time. Their noses bumped, teeth clinked but they got into the rhythm of things.
When they broke apart, Draco was sure that his face was as red as Weasley's hair. Hermione looked quite flushed herself, her lips swollen.
"Um..."
"Yeah..."
"Sorry about that," he offered.
"That was... unexpected."
"Was it bad?" He just had to know.
She looked contemplative for a moment, "No. Why was it bad for you?"
"No," he said coolly. "It's been awhile since I've kissed someone is all."
"Oh." Hermione nodded. "Don't worry about it. It was fine." He gave her a look. "Great even," she amended. "I've had worse."
"Krum?" he asked, remembering the Bulgarian Quidditch player from fourth year.
"Yeah," she wrinkled her nose. "He's sweet and all, but no girl likes it when a guy puts his tongue in her mouth straight away."
Draco wrinkled his nose too, "I can imagine."
"So, um, I should probably go. I've got an early breakfast with my parents tomorrow. I'll see you next week then?"
He jammed his hands into his pockets, "Yeah."
"Good. See you later, Malfoy."
And she was gone.
11.
The second time they kissed, it was in the midst of a row. He didn't remember what they were fighting about, just something childish he was sure, but it ended with them kissing.
In the weeks to come, he found that it always did.
12.
The first time Draco realized that his feelings for Hermione Granger went beyond something he could name wasn't when they were kissing. It was when he found the proper words to issue an apology.
"I'm sorry," he had blurted to her whilst on one of their walks.
"What?"
"I'm sorry. For, you know, everything. I'm sorry that I was a prick in school, I'm sorry my aunt tortured you in my house --"
"Apology accepted. Although you can't really be held accountable for the second one can you?"
He stopped and looked at her, "I am, though. I was there. I allowed it to happen."
"Except you had no choice in anything did you? Look, I don't want to talk about it."
"Stop it, Granger."
"Stop what?"
"Stop acting like nothing's a big deal. Be mad. Hate me. Do something."
"You want me angry at you?"
"Yes... no. I just want you to acknowledge that this is odd, us hanging out together. I know you've got a big heart, Granger, but isn't there some part of you that hates me? Hates what I am?"
"I don't --"
"He lifted his left sleeve and showed her his forearm. The blackness of The Mark stood out dominantly against his pale skin. Since the defeat of its Master, it had turned twisted and ugly; it represented everything he didn't want to be, "Do you see this? What this is? What it was? Does that not matter to you anymore?"
She winced and took a step back, "Malfoy..."
"Are you so keen on forgetting everything, Granger? Just answer my fucking question!"
"Of course I remember everything that happened. You think I don't know? Do you think that I could ever forget what it felt like to be tortured? I know the hateful thoughts you've had about me, the scornful things you've said, those things shaped me into who I am today." She laughed mirthlessly. "Draco, I'm not even nineteen yet and I've survived a war. I've seen things no one should ever have to see, lost some of my closest friends because of fucking politics. I've seen so much hate in my lifetime that I don't think I have it in me to hate anyone myself. You want me to be mad at you? I don't have it in me to be mad anymore. I don't have it in me to hold grudges. If I'm willing to accept everything that's happened, then so should you. Atone for your sins however you must, but quit looking at me like I'm your salvation."
Her cheeks were flushed and the tip of her nose was red from the harsh weather, but she looked beautiful in that moment.
"I just want to move past it all." She said tiredly. "Don't you understand that?"
He nodded, "Okay."
13.
He allowed himself to acknowledge the fact that being around Hermione Granger was easy. She was easy to talk to, even the times when she was smug as she rattled off facts about something he didn't care about.
Sometimes they kissed, sometimes they talked, sometimes they did both. They never talked about what was happening between them. They never acknowledged that Draco had a future ahead of him. A future where Hermione Granger might not fit in.
So when he tucked a curl behind her ear and counted the freckles on her nose, he also allowed himself to consider his feelings for the girl in front of him. She wasn't his redemption. She was his friend... yes, that's what she was. She was definitely something.
In the weeks to come, he found that the whispers had begun to die down and the glares lessened. No one crossed the street to avoid him anymore.
It seemed that people had learned to forgive after all.
14.
"You're engaged."
"... what?"
A sigh, "Listen, I... I don't know where this is going with us, but I think we need to finally acknowledge that you're engaged."
He nodded, "Right."
"This is wrong, Draco. This isn't fair. Not to you, me or Astoria."
"Absolutely."
"Draco..."
"What?"
"Say something else."
"Like what?"
"You're just agreeing with me and you look a little mad. Tell me what you're thinking."
"I'm thinking about snogging you senseless."
"Are you serious?" She groaned, "You think this is a joke?"
"No."
"Okay, forget it. I've got to go..."
He grabbed her arm "Wait, Granger..."
She looked at him expectantly.
"...I've got no clue what you want me to say..." he muttered.
"So you're going to marry Astoria then?"
"Of course."
"Then you've said enough."
15.
Hermione was somewhat fidgety the last night he met with her. He could practically feel the waves of anxiety rolling off of her.
"Granger, out with it."
She bit her lip and looked at him, "I've got a date."
He blinked, "Pardon?"
She squared her shoulders, "I've got a date."
"With who?"
"Not that it's any of your concern, but it's with Ron."
"Oh, fuck me! You're going to go out on a date with that fucking sod?"
"Well why not? He asked and I'm interested."
"Fine."
"Fine?"
"Yes."
"I just have to know... do I not mean anything to you?"
He looked at her, "What?"
"Why am I not good enough?" She was on the verge of tears now, "Is it because of my blood status? I just..."
"It has nothing to do with that." Draco said quietly. "I'm not the person you should be with."
"How do you know --"
"I'm not what you need. Weasley, he's what you need. I'm not the man you want, Granger...Hermione, I can't give you everything he can. I wish I could, Merlin I do, but I can't. I can't give you all of me. You need someone who can love you with everything they've got and I haven't got it in me... not yet."
Hermione allowed her unshed tears to flow freely, "And what of Astoria? Will she be okay with that? With a husband who can't care for her as he should?"
"She'll behave as a Pure Blooded wife should; she'll understand and eventually learn to live with it. Maybe it will change later, who knows?"
And even though he said those words with a straight face and an unwavering voice, he had never felt so broken.
She grabbed her bag and moved off the stool, "I'll see you around, Malfoy."
He paused, wanting to say the words that were weighing on his tongue. He wanted to tell her so many things, but he couldn't form the words. So he said, "See you." instead.
And she was gone.
16.
The memories are enough to jerk him back to reality.
It’s in the moment when her eyes meet his that the answers become clear. It’s in those eyes that he had lost himself in not too long ago. It’s in those eyes he finds himself still getting lost. In that moment, he sees the possibilities. He sees himself with Granger, grabbing a stray lock of hair that’s escaped from her unruly mane and tucking it behind her ear. She’s laughing at something he’s said, her hand brushing against his arm. He sees himself leaning down to kiss her soft, cupid bow mouth; it’s his ring on her finger.
Then her eyes leave his, along with the possibilities.
He pushes back the pain in his chest as Weasley tucks the wayward curl behind her ear; forces away the jealous twinge as he leans down and kisses her mouth. It’s Weasley’s ring on her finger.
His memory seems to be shit these days. It’s almost as though he can't remember anything anymore. Wait, scratch that; there are certain things he can remember. The important things, he supposes. He can remember his first ride on a broom, but can’t remember when he lost his first tooth. He can recite the names of the greatest Wizards ever to have lived and their infamous quotes, but he can never seem to remember someone’s name fifteen minutes after meeting them.
He can’t remember the moment he fell for her; can’t remember at what point hate turned to disdain, which turned to indifference, which turned to like. Although like seems to be too light of a word and love…
With a heavy heart, he realizes that he's finally got his answers.
It was the way she smiled at him, the way she looked at him, her scent... everything.
Grasping his parcel tighter, he starts to head forward as he meant to. He still has people to see and his wife is expecting him home soon. He spares one last look at Granger and she looks back, giving him the smile meant only for him. He gives her a sharp, curt nod and his heart aches with an emotion he still isn't brave enough to name.
His past put behind him, Draco Malfoy heads towards the future that waits for him.
dmexchangemods is an account created solely for purpose of posting the gifts created for this exchange. It has not authored or created these gifts.
Author:
Pairing: Draco/Hermione
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: A few curse words here and there. Compliant with all books.
Summary: Your life is defined by its opportunities... even the ones you miss.
Notes:I want to thank my betas: catalinay, cindas, and becauseshecan. They seriously helped me more than words can say. Any mistakes in here are my own. Also, suprockstar, I'm sorry if this isn't what you were looking for in your request. I'd written one version of this story, submitted it and then realized that I absolutely hated it. So I wrote this one in a very short amount of time. I wanted more angst per your request, but it just wasn't happening! Enjoy.
Your life is defined by its opportunities... even the ones you miss.
- Benjamin Button, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button.
1.
His memory seems to be shit these days. It’s almost as though he can't remember anything anymore. Wait, scratch that; there are certain things he can remember. The important things, he supposes. He can remember his first ride on a broom, but can’t remember when he lost his first tooth. He can recite the names of the greatest Wizards ever to have lived and their infamous quotes, but he can never seem to remember someone’s name fifteen minutes after meeting them.
He doesn’t know if it’s a blessing or a curse, losing his memory. A blessing, he decides. After all, if it’s not going to stick in his head, then it’s obviously not important.
Except one thing, he concedes. One thing that he can’t seem to get a grasp on. A memory that he knows is there, but he can’t seem to find.
He can’t remember the moment he fell for her; can’t remember at what point hate turned to disdain, which turned to indifference, which turned to like. Although like seems to be too light of a word and love… well, love just seems too heavy.
No, he doesn’t like the word love at all. He banishes the word often, especially when he finds himself thinking of her and the word manages to drift into his head and settle in. How can he love someone - wait, scratch that - how can he love her, when he doesn’t even remember why?
He wishes he could dismiss the need to figure it out, the way he’s able to dismiss everything else in his life. But there’s something there that keeps him holding on, even when he knows he should let go.
It’s moments like this, moments when these stray, random thoughts just float into his head and try as he might, he just can’t will them away. Moments when he’s reading the Daily Prophet and comes across her name and there’s an ache in the pit of his stomach that he just can’t ignore.
And as he watches her across the road the thoughts, although fleeting, are there. He looks at her, really looks at her, and tries to pinpoint something, anything, that might clue him in to his obsession. His eyes graze her features and he finds them common. There’s nothing striking about her eyes, they’re brown and ordinary. Her nose is slightly upturned with sprinkles of freckles dashed across it. Her hair, well… that’s a completely different story. He tries to go a different route. Maybe it’s something in her personality, but no, he knows that to be a lie. Everyone who knows her knows that she possesses some rather unflattering traits. She’s rash and stubborn, way too head strong, and has a tendency to devour a book and spit out the contents a short time later. She’s sanctimonious and has quite the mouth on her. There is nothing soft or lady like about her at all.
So, he wonders, if she’s just an ordinary looking girl with an atrocious personality to boot, then why am I standing here like a fool? Why am I losing sleep?
The questions, he finds, always come easily. The answers he seeks are still at a loss. It seems hopeless for him, trying to figure out something like this.
He clutches the parcel tighter between his hands and gives one last withering look her way, ready to push her out of his thoughts indefinitely, when her eyes meet his.
And suddenly, he sees his answers.
2.
He could feel people staring at him, disgust marring their features. He wondered if it would always be this way; if he would always be looked at like a piece of scum.
His family's recent acquittal was enough to make him breathe a sigh of relief, but when he stepped back into the world he had to wonder if it made a difference.
The jeers and the snarls were enough to make him want to go into hiding indefinitely.
He kept his head down and shoulders slumped as he walked. His left forearm ached and he knew it was a phantom pain, something akin to guilt. He had no part in the war, and thanks to his mother and Harry Potter, the Wizengamot acknowledged that.
When Potter defeated The Dark Lord, people celebrated. They praised all who fought and sacrificed their lives in the war, and began to rebuild. Lucius Malfoy had even donated generously to the cause. Draco didn't bother asking his father why he had; he chalked it up to wanting to get the Malfoy name back into good light and maybe a little guilt.
Whatever the reason was, it didn't matter. The war was over and people united. There was still reconstruction to be done, people to honor and a new world to build.
3.
"-- Evil --"
"-- Death Eater scum --"
"-- Deserves to rot --"
Although a fresh start was proclaimed, he should've known he wasn't allowed that luxury. He would forever be associated with everything evil and wrong, and even though everyone was so keen on forgetting about The Dark Lord's existence, he was the constant reminder that he had existed.
4.
The first time Draco Malfoy saw Hermione Granger since school had ended had been on a horrible night. He had gone to The Leaky Cauldron, willing himself to ignore the stares as he settled at the bar. He had been enjoying his Fire Whiskey when he heard someone approach him from behind.
"You're not welcome here."
Draco looked unflinchingly into the face of the man in front of him. He racked his brain, trying to remember his name, but fell short. He was sure he went to school with this person, maybe he lost someone in the war. Maybe the bloke just didn't like him. So Draco turned away from the nameless face and went back to drinking his fire whiskey.
"You look at me when I'm talking to you, you piece of filth!"
Draco did.
"You should be rotting in Azkaban! You've got no right being here," nameless face sneered. "You --"
Draco clenched his fist underneath the table. He would not say anything back. He would not fight back. He couldn't. If everyone wanted to form a line and get their digs in, then let them. He'd rather take the insults to his face, rather then endure any more whispers.
"That's enough, Ernie," some other nameless face said quietly, gently pulling Ernie away.
"No!" Ernie said, yanking his arm from his companion. "Look at him, Justin. Just look at him. Looking all pathetic, sipping on his drink, not caring. He's the reason Dumbledore's dead. He's fucking scum. He won't even look me in the eye --" Ernie leaned against the counter and peered at Draco, a sneer marring his features. "You fucking piece of shit."
Draco chanced a look at the bloke. He remembered who he was. Ernie Macmillan. Former Hufflepuff. Pure-Blood.
"I lied," Ernie sneered. "You don't deserve Azkaban. You deserve to rot in hell. Along with Voldemort." And he spat in his face.
"That's enough, Ernie!" A voice interrupted and Draco found himself looking at Hermione Granger. She wedged herself between Draco and Ernie. Hermione looked up at Ernie, disappointment set on her face, "That's enough," she said again, quietly.
Draco grabbed a napkin and wiped the spit from his face. He couldn't look at anyone. He knew he deserved more than that.
"Justin," Hermione nodded towards Ernie's companion. "Take him over there, would you? I think he's had a bit much to drink tonight."
"This isn't over, you fucking tosser!" Ernie seethed, but he allowed Justin to pull him away.
Finally Hermione turned around and looked at Draco. "Are you okay?" she asked quietly.
Draco grabbed money out of his pocket and slammed it on the counter. "Peachy," he sneered.
He turned around and headed out the door. He could feel the looks burn into his back. The air in the room was heavy and thick. He needed to breathe.
When he made his way outside, he rested his head against the cold brick wall. He took sharp, greedy breaths, hoping to appease the ache in his lungs.
"Malfoy."
Draco spun around, his hand clutching his wand.
"Go away," he snapped.
"Look, I just wanted to check on you --" Hermione stuttered.
"Why are you here, Granger?"
She looked at him for a moment, "I always come to The Leaky Cauldron on Fridays --"
"No," he snapped impatiently, "Not here. Here."
"Oh," she blushed and looked away. "I don't know. You-- you looked like you could use some help."
"I don't need anyone's help, least of all yours!" he snapped.
"I beg to differ," she said quietly.
He turned around and stabbed a finger in the air, "Let's get this straight, shall we? I'm not some fucking charity case, you got that? Weasel and Potter might like you being like a fucking mother hen, but I don't. I don't need your assistance. I don't need your fucking coddling. I'm a big boy and I can handle myself."
Her cheeks tinged a dark pink and she glared at him, "Fine. My apologies, Malfoy."
He was still angry though. So angry he wanted to punch a wall, so he did. When that didn't satisfy him, he edged closer to Hermione until they were practically sharing air.
"Look at you," he sneered. "Basking in your virtue . What do you want, Granger? Hm? You want to save the big bad Death Eater? Give me a chance of salvation?"
She looked up at him then, her breath coming out in small white puffs, "I just thought I could help, that's all. You don't --"
"I don't what?" he asked, edging closer. "Come on, Granger. Out with it. Let's hear those words of wisdom that you keep in that big bushy head of yours."
Hermione winced as her back hit the wall behind her. "I just thought you could use a friend."
He laughed just then. To anyone who didn't know him, they would have thought it was loud and boisterous. Hermione knew better. It was a hollow laugh, one without any mirth. "A friend?" he asked with a chuckle. "You are completely off your bird you know that? A friend? A fucking friend? Please tell me, Granger, what really brings you here? Did you lose a bet? Have a revelation? Or do you just have a knack for finding something you think needs to be saved?"
Hermione pushed past him, "Forget I ever said anything."
"You don't get to show me pity!" Draco called out. "You should be in there with the rest of them. You should be the first one to spit in my face. If it were you, I'd be the first in line."
Hermione stopped mid step and turned around, "That may be, Malfoy but I'm not like them." She looked up at the night sky and then back at him, "No one deserves that. Not even you."
He was silent as he watched her walk away.
5.
He returned the next Friday. He didn't know why. Maybe he was glutton for self-punishment; or maybe it was to settle the guilt he felt from the week before. He honestly didn't know why he felt so guilty for being that way with Granger, just that he did.
He found her sitting at the bar, staring into her butterbeer. He walked slowly and took the empty seat next to her.
Hermione looked over at him, blinked and then stiffened. He signaled to Tom for his usual drink and looked at Hermione.
"Fancy seeing you here," he said.
"I come here every Friday," she answered, stiffly.
"So you mentioned," he retorted.
Hermione kept her gaze on the bar counter, absently drawing invisible patterns on the wood surface.
"I --"
"What do you want, Malfoy?" Hermione asked suddenly.
"I've taken a fancy to this place," he said simply.
"Why are you here?" she asked
"I thought I just answered that?"
"No, why are you here?" she repeated again, this time with a lift of her eyebrows.
Draco chuckled lowly at her using his words from before. "I thought you could use a friend."
"What? What are you on --" She glared at him, "You're mocking me."
He shook his head, "Not at all."
She glared harder.
"Okay," he conceded and he raised his thumb and index finger. "Maybe just a little."
"You're not funny," she snapped.
His lips twitched, "I thought it was pretty funny."
Hermione took a deep breath and looked at him, "You never answered my question."
"Which was?"
"Why are you here?"
He hesitated before answering, "I don't know."
She took a drink of her butterbeer and stayed silent.
He was sipping the fire whiskey Tom had set before him moments before when Hermione spoke again.
"Your father made another generous donation to the Ministry."
He quirked a brow, "So he did."
"That was, uh, very thoughtful of him," she said quietly.
"I suppose."
"I mean... I can't..."
"Look, Granger, if you're looking to me to find out his motives for the donations, then you're not going to get any answers. Your guess is as good as mine. Maybe he feels loads of guilt, or maybe he's just trying to show the world that Lucius Malfoy doesn't, in fact, have a little black shriveled heart."
She smiled, "Duly noted."
"So why do you come here anyway?" he asked.
"What do you mean?"
"Exactly that. I thought you and the Weasel would've been off and married by now. Living in a luxurious one bedroom shack with about six ginger spawn by now."
She glared at him.
"I'm joking," he amended. "We've only been out of school for a short time. So I guess the correct assumption would be about three ginger haired spawn."
"I don't know who told you that you were funny, but you're not," Hermione sniffed.
"What?" he asked. "Everyone knows the breeding rate for Weasley's. Astronomical, if I say so myself."
"Sod off," Hermione said, but she smiled just a little. "Ron and I are friends. Besides, he's dating someone right now."
"Amazing…." Draco said.
"What?"
"That Weasel managed to find someone blind, deaf and dumb to put up with him."
"You're such a prat!" Hermione gasped. "Can't you ever just be nice?"
He smirked, "Granger if I did that, then I wouldn't be me."
"What about you?" she asked.
"What about me?"
"Why aren't you at the Manor, strutting about while you beat house elves?"
He winced, "Okay, first of all, Malfoy's don't 'strut', it's called swagger and second, define beat."
She looked appalled, "You better be joking again, Malfoy."
He raised his hands in surrender. "I am."
Hermione narrowed her eyes, "Right. So why aren't you married yet? Don't Malfoys entrap some lucky girl into a marriage contract early on?"
He looked at her, "Wait, what? Entrap --? Where are you getting your supposed facts from?"
"Pure Blooded Gits and Their Pure Blooded Ways," Hermione said smugly.
He quirked a brow, "Oh? And what section of the library was this in?"
"Pure Blooded Gits of course."
"Of course," he murmured, a hint of a smile playing at his lips.
"No, but really, shouldn't you be working on continuing that wonderful Malfoy lineage?"
"Ah, contrary to the popular belief, all the women in the Malfoy family by marriage are willing, and yes there is a marriage contract being presented, right as we speak."
"Oh? Who's the lucky lady then?"
"Astoria Greengrass."
"Well," Hermione smiled and raised her own glass. "Congratulations are in order then."
6.
Maybe whatever he feels for her now started that day in The Leaky Cauldron. The day when she offered to ignore his past and allow him a fresh start; the day she offered her hand in friendship.
He knows that his stubborn ways never got him anywhere in life. He was content on puffing up his chest and strolling around like he was a man. But, in all reality, he was just a boy then. A boy who had shoes too big to fill; a boy who simply needed a friend.
There was much more to Hermione Granger than anyone could ever know. He can see how someone could be drawn to her. She had this air that surrounded her, the confidence in which she carried herself. There was the smile she had, her real smile, the one meant for certain people. The one that makes him rock back on the balls of his feet and makes his heart jump leaps and bounds before it settles back in his chest.
7.
The next Friday, he returned. He never thought he would acknowledge something like this, but being around Hermione Granger made him feel normal. It wasn't like they were friends, not really, but she looked him in the eyes when she addressed him. He didn't know what he did to warrant her forgiveness, but he took it.
He still felt the small pang of guilt when he sat with her. He knew what he put her through in school, what his family had done, but he couldn't change any of that. He wasn't that person anymore and he hoped it was enough.
They never talked about Dumbledore or anything else that occurred a year ago. Although it hung in the air, they didn't acknowledge it. Each time he looked at Granger, he could feel an apology weighing on the tip of his tongue. He didn't know exactly what he was apologizing for - being a prat all those years? His father trying to kill her? His crazy aunt torturing her without mercy? That was a mouthful of apologies and still, Draco didn't know where to start.
He still endured the sneers and the whispers, but somehow being around Hermione when it was happening seemed to make it alright.
8.
The first time Draco and Hermione had gone for a walk together was a couple of weeks later. He had been enjoying his fire whiskey while Hermione looked contemplative.
"You want to get out of here?" Hermione said suddenly.
Draco looked at his half full glass and looked at her, "What?"
"Let's take a walk," she grinned.
"..."
"Don't look at me like that," she scolded. "Come on."
"Anyone ever tell you that you look a bit mad when you smile like that?"
"What?"
"That grin you do," he waved his hand toward her. "Makes you look certifiable."
"Merlin," she sighed, putting money on the counter and tugged his robe. "Come on, let's go."
9.
The first time Draco Malfoy allowed Hermione Granger to see his weakness occurred the same night.
"Please tell me why we've left the warmth of the pub, only to come out here and freeze our arses off?"
"I thought a walk would be nice."
"A walk? Okay, you're nutters." he bit out. "It's bloody freezing out here."
Hermione rolled her eyes, "Where's your bravery?"
"That's supposed to be Griffyndor, you bint. We Slytherin's don't care too much for the cold. We were too busy being cunning and whatnot."
"Suck it up, Malfoy."
He glared at her.
"Are you done pouting now?" Hermione asked. "Come on, it's really not that bad."
"Why am I here again?" he muttered.
"Because I'm the only one who will put up with you," Hermione said, grinning.
He froze then and Hermione's smile faltered, her words sinking in. "I'm sorry, I didn't even think --"
He shook his head. "Don't be," he said stiffly, "It is the truth, right?"
"I didn't mean it like that --"
"Don't."
She sighed, "Malfoy --"
"Goddamnit, Granger, just stop," he snapped. "Don't say another word. You don't need to apologize for speaking the truth. I should've known that just because you're speaking to me, that not all is forgiven."
"What are you on about? I've got nothing --"
"But everyone else does! Look at me, Granger. I'm an outcast. I'm fucking hated. I'm the epitome of everything wrong in this world. My father has resorted to buying our way back in for Merlin's sake! I've tried to ignore the stares and the whispers; I've tried telling myself that if the Muggle Born Hermione Granger can look me in the eye and not flinch, then it's okay. It's not."
Hermione looked at him, "Malfoy, honestly... I don't think people understand --"
"Oh, and you do? What the fuck do you even know about the shit I've had to do? To have to kill someone just to appease The Dark Lord?" His voice wavered, "To know that he's given you a task just to simply watch you fail so he can kill you and your family? To live with that for the rest of your life, even though you couldn't go through with it?"
Hermione stepped forward and her hand rubbed smooth circles on the small of his back.
He could feel the ache in his chest beginning to unwind, threatening to rise into his throat until he was forced to let out a strangled sob. He tried to stare out into the night, but found that his vision was beginning to blur.
He pulled away from her, "I deserve everything I get."
"You deserve a second chance," Hermione said quietly.
She moved to him again, this time he did not pull away.
Then he did something he never thought possible. Draco Malfoy relinquished all of his heartache to Hermione Granger, and allowed her to know how damaged and broken he truly was
10.
The first time he kissed Hermione Granger was weeks after his breakdown. They had been on one of their walks and Hermione seemed down. When he pressed the issue, she did the Hermione Granger thing and sniffled and looked away.
Draco was no good when it came to women and tears. While he loved the former, he couldn't ever deal with the latter. He was always awkward when it came to comfort. So when Hermione begrudgingly told him in the midst of tears that she was thrown by how everyone seemed to move on with their lives, getting married and she wasn't even close to having that, he did the only thing he knew he could do.
He went on a spiel about how if Weasley or any other bloke didn't see Granger the way that they should have, then they were bloody idiots. He then proceeded to talk about her good qualities and how since she'd gotten her teeth fixed and her hair under control, she wasn't quite so hideous anymore.
He had to admit he felt a bit bad when she looked at him, her eyes brimming with tears.
"Oh bloody hell," he mumbled as he ran a hand through his hair, "I didn't mean it like that. My words came out wrong. Fuck."
Granger must've realized that he still lacked a sensitivity bone and weeded through the garbled mess to find those compliments because while her eyes still shined with tears, she gave him a smile of pure exhilaration. "You think I'm pretty?" she asked.
"Well, sure... yeah. I do believe I said was 'not quite hideous...'" he said uneasily.
She didn't notice his discomfort whatsoever. She must not have because why else would she throw herself into his arms like she had?
He stood there, awkwardly struggling for breath, wondering what in the bleeding hell he was supposed to do with his hands. No one ever had hugged him before. Well no one other than his mother and even then it was a bit weird. Finally he allowed the shock to fade away and wrapped his arms around her waist.
"Thank you, Draco," she sighed. "You've no idea what that means to me."
He tried not to notice that her hair was severely invading his space. It was everywhere - in his mouth, tickling his nose. He also tried not to notice that it smelled like strawberries and honey.
She pulled away then, a tinge of pink colored her cheeks, "Sorry. I'm just so emotional. I've had a long day and haven't slept right --"
His arm was still loose around her waist and the urge he felt overtook his rationality. He pulled her close and kissed her. It was awkward and perfect at the same time. Their noses bumped, teeth clinked but they got into the rhythm of things.
When they broke apart, Draco was sure that his face was as red as Weasley's hair. Hermione looked quite flushed herself, her lips swollen.
"Um..."
"Yeah..."
"Sorry about that," he offered.
"That was... unexpected."
"Was it bad?" He just had to know.
She looked contemplative for a moment, "No. Why was it bad for you?"
"No," he said coolly. "It's been awhile since I've kissed someone is all."
"Oh." Hermione nodded. "Don't worry about it. It was fine." He gave her a look. "Great even," she amended. "I've had worse."
"Krum?" he asked, remembering the Bulgarian Quidditch player from fourth year.
"Yeah," she wrinkled her nose. "He's sweet and all, but no girl likes it when a guy puts his tongue in her mouth straight away."
Draco wrinkled his nose too, "I can imagine."
"So, um, I should probably go. I've got an early breakfast with my parents tomorrow. I'll see you next week then?"
He jammed his hands into his pockets, "Yeah."
"Good. See you later, Malfoy."
And she was gone.
11.
The second time they kissed, it was in the midst of a row. He didn't remember what they were fighting about, just something childish he was sure, but it ended with them kissing.
In the weeks to come, he found that it always did.
12.
The first time Draco realized that his feelings for Hermione Granger went beyond something he could name wasn't when they were kissing. It was when he found the proper words to issue an apology.
"I'm sorry," he had blurted to her whilst on one of their walks.
"What?"
"I'm sorry. For, you know, everything. I'm sorry that I was a prick in school, I'm sorry my aunt tortured you in my house --"
"Apology accepted. Although you can't really be held accountable for the second one can you?"
He stopped and looked at her, "I am, though. I was there. I allowed it to happen."
"Except you had no choice in anything did you? Look, I don't want to talk about it."
"Stop it, Granger."
"Stop what?"
"Stop acting like nothing's a big deal. Be mad. Hate me. Do something."
"You want me angry at you?"
"Yes... no. I just want you to acknowledge that this is odd, us hanging out together. I know you've got a big heart, Granger, but isn't there some part of you that hates me? Hates what I am?"
"I don't --"
"He lifted his left sleeve and showed her his forearm. The blackness of The Mark stood out dominantly against his pale skin. Since the defeat of its Master, it had turned twisted and ugly; it represented everything he didn't want to be, "Do you see this? What this is? What it was? Does that not matter to you anymore?"
She winced and took a step back, "Malfoy..."
"Are you so keen on forgetting everything, Granger? Just answer my fucking question!"
"Of course I remember everything that happened. You think I don't know? Do you think that I could ever forget what it felt like to be tortured? I know the hateful thoughts you've had about me, the scornful things you've said, those things shaped me into who I am today." She laughed mirthlessly. "Draco, I'm not even nineteen yet and I've survived a war. I've seen things no one should ever have to see, lost some of my closest friends because of fucking politics. I've seen so much hate in my lifetime that I don't think I have it in me to hate anyone myself. You want me to be mad at you? I don't have it in me to be mad anymore. I don't have it in me to hold grudges. If I'm willing to accept everything that's happened, then so should you. Atone for your sins however you must, but quit looking at me like I'm your salvation."
Her cheeks were flushed and the tip of her nose was red from the harsh weather, but she looked beautiful in that moment.
"I just want to move past it all." She said tiredly. "Don't you understand that?"
He nodded, "Okay."
13.
He allowed himself to acknowledge the fact that being around Hermione Granger was easy. She was easy to talk to, even the times when she was smug as she rattled off facts about something he didn't care about.
Sometimes they kissed, sometimes they talked, sometimes they did both. They never talked about what was happening between them. They never acknowledged that Draco had a future ahead of him. A future where Hermione Granger might not fit in.
So when he tucked a curl behind her ear and counted the freckles on her nose, he also allowed himself to consider his feelings for the girl in front of him. She wasn't his redemption. She was his friend... yes, that's what she was. She was definitely something.
In the weeks to come, he found that the whispers had begun to die down and the glares lessened. No one crossed the street to avoid him anymore.
It seemed that people had learned to forgive after all.
14.
"You're engaged."
"... what?"
A sigh, "Listen, I... I don't know where this is going with us, but I think we need to finally acknowledge that you're engaged."
He nodded, "Right."
"This is wrong, Draco. This isn't fair. Not to you, me or Astoria."
"Absolutely."
"Draco..."
"What?"
"Say something else."
"Like what?"
"You're just agreeing with me and you look a little mad. Tell me what you're thinking."
"I'm thinking about snogging you senseless."
"Are you serious?" She groaned, "You think this is a joke?"
"No."
"Okay, forget it. I've got to go..."
He grabbed her arm "Wait, Granger..."
She looked at him expectantly.
"...I've got no clue what you want me to say..." he muttered.
"So you're going to marry Astoria then?"
"Of course."
"Then you've said enough."
15.
Hermione was somewhat fidgety the last night he met with her. He could practically feel the waves of anxiety rolling off of her.
"Granger, out with it."
She bit her lip and looked at him, "I've got a date."
He blinked, "Pardon?"
She squared her shoulders, "I've got a date."
"With who?"
"Not that it's any of your concern, but it's with Ron."
"Oh, fuck me! You're going to go out on a date with that fucking sod?"
"Well why not? He asked and I'm interested."
"Fine."
"Fine?"
"Yes."
"I just have to know... do I not mean anything to you?"
He looked at her, "What?"
"Why am I not good enough?" She was on the verge of tears now, "Is it because of my blood status? I just..."
"It has nothing to do with that." Draco said quietly. "I'm not the person you should be with."
"How do you know --"
"I'm not what you need. Weasley, he's what you need. I'm not the man you want, Granger...Hermione, I can't give you everything he can. I wish I could, Merlin I do, but I can't. I can't give you all of me. You need someone who can love you with everything they've got and I haven't got it in me... not yet."
Hermione allowed her unshed tears to flow freely, "And what of Astoria? Will she be okay with that? With a husband who can't care for her as he should?"
"She'll behave as a Pure Blooded wife should; she'll understand and eventually learn to live with it. Maybe it will change later, who knows?"
And even though he said those words with a straight face and an unwavering voice, he had never felt so broken.
She grabbed her bag and moved off the stool, "I'll see you around, Malfoy."
He paused, wanting to say the words that were weighing on his tongue. He wanted to tell her so many things, but he couldn't form the words. So he said, "See you." instead.
And she was gone.
16.
The memories are enough to jerk him back to reality.
It’s in the moment when her eyes meet his that the answers become clear. It’s in those eyes that he had lost himself in not too long ago. It’s in those eyes he finds himself still getting lost. In that moment, he sees the possibilities. He sees himself with Granger, grabbing a stray lock of hair that’s escaped from her unruly mane and tucking it behind her ear. She’s laughing at something he’s said, her hand brushing against his arm. He sees himself leaning down to kiss her soft, cupid bow mouth; it’s his ring on her finger.
Then her eyes leave his, along with the possibilities.
He pushes back the pain in his chest as Weasley tucks the wayward curl behind her ear; forces away the jealous twinge as he leans down and kisses her mouth. It’s Weasley’s ring on her finger.
His memory seems to be shit these days. It’s almost as though he can't remember anything anymore. Wait, scratch that; there are certain things he can remember. The important things, he supposes. He can remember his first ride on a broom, but can’t remember when he lost his first tooth. He can recite the names of the greatest Wizards ever to have lived and their infamous quotes, but he can never seem to remember someone’s name fifteen minutes after meeting them.
He can’t remember the moment he fell for her; can’t remember at what point hate turned to disdain, which turned to indifference, which turned to like. Although like seems to be too light of a word and love…
With a heavy heart, he realizes that he's finally got his answers.
It was the way she smiled at him, the way she looked at him, her scent... everything.
Grasping his parcel tighter, he starts to head forward as he meant to. He still has people to see and his wife is expecting him home soon. He spares one last look at Granger and she looks back, giving him the smile meant only for him. He gives her a sharp, curt nod and his heart aches with an emotion he still isn't brave enough to name.
His past put behind him, Draco Malfoy heads towards the future that waits for him.
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