Chapter Text
Ginny showed up at exactly five o’clock the following Friday, dragging a suitcase half her height that, according to her, contained “the bare essentials to survive three days in France.”
After crushing Hermione in a hug, they had a cup of tea in the university accommodation’s living room, and Ginny tried - once again - to buy Crookshanks’ friendship by offering him free treats. Hermione smacked her hand away about a dozen times, repeating that her cat was on a strict diet. The half-kneazle stared at her with those yellow eyes and, as if he understood, hissed in their direction at the word “diet.”
That afternoon, Hermione took the younger Weasley out around the shops, showing her one of the most famous streets, the Champs-Élysées, and the bookstore where she worked. Ginny seized the chance to greet her beloved, far-away uncle, asking him - in a very pushy way - if Hermione could have the weekend off, going on and on about how important it was to celebrate her birthday. To really seal the deal, she added a full-on tearjerker about the distance that had come between their friendship, totally trying to butter him up.
Despite Hermione’s mortified protests - she genuinely wished the floor would just swallow her whole - the man seemed delighted and gave her the weekend off with a sincere smile.
When they got back, they found the table already set and loaded with all the delicious dishes Padma had prepared for them. She’d decided to surprise Hermione for her birthday, one month late, by letting them try all the traditional dishes from her home country.
“Padma, what are these? They’re divine!”
“They’re called samosas,” she replied, smiling at Ginny.
“Samosas! If I could eat one thing every day for the rest of my life, it’d be these.”
Hermione laughed and filled her glass with red wine. She took a deep breath of the laughter-filled air, letting herself relax for a bit, not thinking about her problems.
“You know, Hermione,” Ginny said, catching her attention, “I’m surprised you care this much about celebrating your birthday. I expected a bit more resistance from you.”
“Unfortunately, I was attacked on multiple fronts,” she shook her head, almost amused by the silent agreement that seemed to have formed. “In the end, I had to give in.”
“You insisted too, Padma?”
She downed her wine quickly. “Absolutely! Though the award for most relentless goes to Pansy.”
Hermione raised both eyebrows like, obviously, and Ginny nearly spat out her last bite instead of swallowing it. “Parkinson?!”
Padma nodded, a laugh slipping out. Ginny turned to Hermione like she was demanding answers.
“So she stopped being a supremacist bitch?”
Hermione shrugged, resignation clear. “Take out ‘supremacist’ and leave ‘bitch.’ I’m pretty sure you’ll get along… you’re more alike than you think.”
“Oh!” Ginny placed both hands on the table. “That’s… a weird plot twist. I’m actually curious now.”
“And wait till you see Malfoy!” Padma blurted, a giggle escaping before she could stop it.
Hermione shot her a glare, but Ginny definitely didn’t miss the chance to ask questions.
“Malfoy?! Is he still hooking up with Parkinson? Or does it have something to do with that newspaper clipping I sent you two weeks ago?”
At that point, Padma completely lost it, laughing for real. “Absolutely not! That newspaper thing was probably Narcissa Malfoy’s idea, to make him more appealing to fake high-society virgins and for all the image-cleaning they’re doing.”
“Then what did he do?”
Padma shrugged with a very suspicious body language for someone about to drop a bomb.
“I think he wants Hermione. Just like Jerome does, by the way.”
Hermione shifted in her chair, unable to contain her outrage. “Padma! We already talked about this, that’s not a thing.”
Ginny doubled over laughing, knocking over her wine glass and completely missing Hermione’s response. A few seconds of chaos followed, with Ginny trying to stop crying from laughter while Padma and Hermione cleaned up the mess.
“That was a good one, Padma. I didn’t remember you being this funny.” She wiped her eyes.
“I wasn’t joking!”
“Don’t start again,” Hermione cut her off, her tone dry, hoping to shut it down immediately.
“What do you mean you weren’t joking?” Ginny’s smile froze, and now she was staring at Hermione with an expression she really didn’t like. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“Nothing at all. She just gets weird ideas in her head,” Hermione deflected. No way was she feeding that madness by bringing up that weird moment in the infirmary. Least of all, she didn’t want to mention how she had invited him to the party.
“And who’s this Jerome?”
Hermione shook her head as she waved it off. “Noone. Just a guy from our course.”
“If you’re as sharp as I think you are, Ginevra Weasley, tonight you’ll see I’m right.” Padma crossed her arms, determination in her eyes.
“Theodore Nott is messing with your head, Padma,” Hermione snapped.
At that point, Ginny stood up, laughter threatening again.
“Theodore Nott?! Padma, I can’t believe this.” A hand over her mouth, not even hiding the shock. “France is really doing something weird to you girls.”
Padma shrugged, stubbornly calm. “What? He’s more than capable, available, and I need a distraction!”
Ginny opened and closed her mouth a couple of times, her lips mouthing “capable” in disbelief. Then she seemed to recover. “Honestly, fair enough. The charm of an asshole.”
Hermione stifled a laugh, and Padma threw a napkin at Ginny.
“So that’s what you’re suggesting Hermione should do with Malfoy?”
Padma nodded. “I think you’re hesitant because you haven’t seen him yet. Trust me, in person he’s a whole different story.”
“Padma…” Hermione grumbled, clearly annoyed.
“Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed, Hermione! This is just being objective. It’s not exactly news that he draws girls’ attention. He looks like a fallen angel. He’s tall, rich, ridiculously good-looking, and that dark past just makes him more attractive.”
“Not my business,” Hermione muttered, arms crossed.
Padma winked. “For now.”
Ginny ended the conversation by announcing she was going to take a shower—she needed to process all that new info.
Chatting about random stuff, they got ready to go out, and Hermione, caught up in the moment, decided to wear something a bit bolder. At the back of her wardrobe - almost like a secret - she kept an emerald green dress for special occasions, and she decided that maybe this night counted. She styled her hair in a soft low chignon, remembering how much she’d hated wearing it down the last time she went to a party.
Looking at herself in the mirror after putting on the dark jacket she’d paired with the dress, she actually thought she looked kind of cute. Living a normal life still felt unfamiliar, but honestly, it wasn’t so bad.
Ginny chose red, warm, just like her personality. Padma went for a hypnotic purple. Ginny, buzzing with excitement, asked Hermione if she still had her Muggle camera, the one that printed photos instantly.
“You mean the Polaroid?”
“Exactly, that one!”
Hermione rummaged through the living room boxes. “I hope I didn’t run out of film…”
They took a beautiful photo, all three of them smiling and squeezed together. Ginny wanted a copy to take home and hang on her wall.
They left the house, their laughter echoing through the stairwell behind them. Hermione avoided glancing toward apartment 24b, even though the sliver of light she caught out of the corner of her eye suggested someone was still inside.
She let the wind fill her lungs as the front door shut behind them, drowning out the noise in her head. The street was quiet, lit by streetlamps. Padma knew the place Pansy had chosen was in magical Paris, some kind of enchanted club that changed atmosphere depending on the crowd’s mood.
They walked there, enjoying the calm of the Seine reflecting the lights. The silence between their conversations felt like a soft touch.
Hermione squinted as a strangely sharp gust of wind hit her. Her shoes were already starting to hurt, and her chest tightened. She shook her head slightly, pulling her jacket closer without saying a word. Behind her, Ginny was watching her with a strange look, of course she’d noticed.
“Don’t make that face,” she teased. “It’s your birthday, not a Transfiguration exam.”
“For the record, it’s not actually my birthday,” Hermione admitted, a hint of irony in her voice.
“I think you’ve just forgotten how to celebrate, but don’t worry, we’re here to remind you,” Padma grabbed her arm as they crossed the street. “And trust me, after tonight, you’ll remember.”
They stopped in front of a dark door. The window was mirrored, so you couldn’t see inside. The club was packed with people Hermione had never seen. Pansy had invited an insane number of guests and she probably didn’t even know half of them herself.
She led them to a raised platform with couches next to the dance floor.
“How did you book this area, Pansy?” Padma shouted over the music.
“The owner’s a friend of mine.” She winked.
“Bet he’s a very specific kind of friend…” Ginny muttered in Hermione’s ear, who immediately elbowed her.
“Ginny!” she whispered, almost scandalized. “You promised you’d try.”
Ginny rolled her eyes but sat down.
Soon Jerome and his friends joined them. Hermione had met them at her first party. A small group of four guys. From their clothes, they clearly came from wealthy families, but surprisingly, they didn’t act snobby.
Alexandre was Pansy’s current flirt. He was the quietest one, which worked since she talked enough for both. Buzz cut, earrings, tattooed arms. Being terribly tall and muscular, he played as a Beater on the magical law faculty’s Quidditch team. His shoulders made that very obvious.
Victor, on the other hand, was the classic rich boy: medium height, brown hair, soft features. Impeccable manners, always careful with his words.
Lucien, blonde like Jerome but a bit taller, studied alchemy. Very smart, almost on Hermione’s level, and she’d found him intellectually stimulating from their first conversation.
They all greeted her with two cheek kisses, a French habit she still wasn’t used to. Way too much physical contact for her taste.
“Happy belated birthday, Hermione,” Jerome smiled, holding her hands a bit too long.
“Thank you,” she replied, cheeks slightly red. She hadn’t celebrated in so long—it made her a little uncomfortable. “This is my best friend, Ginevra Weasley, Chaser for the Holyhead Harpies.”
Ginny greeted everyone easily, returning the kisses politely. She wasted no time in and immediately starting a conversation with Alexandre about Quidditch, and Hermione wan’t too surprised.
Pansy yawned at the topic and grabbed Hermione’s sleeve, pulling her closer to whisper before Jerome could jump in.
“Draco told me you invited him.”
Hermione flinched, mistakenly not expecting such a direct hit from her.
She bit her cheek. “It felt rude not to.”
Pansy raised an eyebrow.
“We’re trying to get along… and you would’ve invited him anyway,” Hermione added quickly.
“Interesting…” She said, tapped her chin. “That’s exactly what he said too.”
Hermione swallowed, unsure how to take that. Trying to sound casual, she asked, “What did he say?”
“That it would’ve been in bad taste not to come.”
Pansy looked at her with a knowing air, and Hermione knew that whatever she tried to say wouldn't budge her from her convictions. She chose to let it go, at least for now. After all, it was her birthday; it wouldn't be bad to spend it without a care in the world.
“Here!” Padma said, handing her a drink. “Jardin de meme, your favorite.”
Hermione smiled and thanked her.
“What is it?” Ginny asked.
“Jardin de meme, Hermione’s favorite,” Padma said.
Ginny raised an eyebrow. “Your favorite?”
Hermione nodded with a smirk and handed it over.
Ginny took a sip through the straw, then grimaced. “That’s so sweet!”
“The sugar hides the amount of alcohol,” Padma winked.
“What are you drinking, Weasley?” Pansy asked, heading toward the bar.
Ginny seemed to be wary, but then decided to appeal to her common sense, just for Hermione’s sake. “A glass of Firewhisky.”
“Granger said we’re more alike than we think. I’m starting to believe her.” With a smirk, Pansy leaned over the railing and whispered something to a guy Hermione assumed worked there.
“Since it’s Hermione’s birthday, I ordered a bottle,” she said after dismissing him.
“A bottle? Pansy!” Hermione protested. “Don’t you think that’s a bit much?”
Pansy stepped closer, fixing her bangs, then Hermione’s hair too. “Honestly? I’ve just started.”
Ginny shook her head, smiling despite herself. Maybe she wasn’t as terrible as she’d thought.
-
The crowd moved like a wave: laughter, spilled drinks, bodies swaying together, dim lights making everything feel hypnotic. Hermione watched the strange combination of color and disorder, enraptured. Her friends were beside her, commenting on the music, getting to know each other. Mei and Amelie were fascinated by Ginny, bombarding her with questions.
Hermione smiled, hoping they’d get along. It mattered, blending her past life with the new one she was building.
And it was in that moment that her smile froze, as one of the main ghosts of her past loomed on her view.
Draco Malfoy was there.
Leaning against the bar, drink in hand, looking like he had nothing to prove. White shirt unbuttoned at the neck , the tattoo from his brief stint in Azkaban awaiting trial visible, a brutal contrast against his pale skin. The sleeve of only one arm was rolled up, which was enough to make his skin even paler under the club lights.
His hair was messy in that calculated way. But that wasn’t what struck her: it was his eyes. Cold, calm, and… attentive. He was looking at her too.
How long had he been there?
“Oh, finally!” Pansy exclaimed, gesturing toward him, snapping Hermione out of it.
Malfoy pushed off the bar and walked over, weaving effortlessly through people.
Hermione could see the looks girls threw at his indifferent face, the way they moved strategically just to brush against him. He drew attention, maybe because of his reputation… or maybe because he carried himself like someone used to it, with a natural ease.
“That’s… Malfoy?” Ginny asked, moving closer to Hermione, who remained sitting on the sofa, as if her dress was stuck to it.
“Yeah.”
“He’s different from how I remember. Pictures definitely don’t do him justice. Can’t say he’s not in shape.”
Hermione elbowed her to shut her up. “Stop staring, he’ll notice.”
Ginny laughed. “I’m not worried about what the ferret thinks.”
“I was starting to think you got lost,” Pansy huffed, greeting him with a dramatic hug.
Draco shook his head and smirked slightly. He looked unusually relaxed. Different. Hermione watched him as he walked past the little table and approached his friend.
“Sorry I’m late.” He simply said.
“Where are the other two?”
“They’re coming, Pans, relax.”
She rolled her eyes and left him to join Alexandre.
Ginny pinched Hermione’s arm and, after they stood up, she whispered in her ear: “I think he’s coming over.”
“I can see that, shut up,” Hermione muttered.
“Be polite,” Ginny giggled.
“I always am!”
Ginny nudged her forward. “Then say hi.”
Malfoy stopped right in front of them.
“Hi.” It slipped out before she could stop it. She wanted to strangle Ginny, as she could feel her smile behind her shoulders.
“Granger, thanks for the invite.”
Hermione opened her mouth, but her tongue went dry as he looked like he was about to lean over her.
The descent was slow. Tense. She could feel his hot breath brushed on her nose, then on her cheek, as his lips touched her skin. Then he did the same on the other side. Hermione flushed, frozen, her arms stretched out at her sides like a rag doll. Just two cheek kisses—French greeting—but it felt like anything but normal.
“Happy birthday.”
Hermione swallowed. She definitely didn’t look at his forearms. Or the scrap of white skin that revealed the collar. Didn’t stare at him at all.
“Yeah… thanks.” She tried to smile, but her stomach was tied in knots.
What the hell was wrong with her?
He smiled back, then turned to Ginny, who was staring, mouth wide open, not even trying to hide it.
“Looks like we’ve got company,” he said. “Taking a break from Quidditch, Weasley?”
Ginny raised both eyebrows, while crossing her arms. “We’re about to destroy the Falcons next month, ferret.”
“Sure, absolutely,” he laughed. “Don’t you think red clashes with your orange hair?”
“Says the guy with ridiculous hair.”Ginny said with her poker face.
Malfoy seemed to take it gracefully, choosing to end the game on a draw. The tension seemed to dissipate for a moment. Hermione relaxed her shoulders, still looking around, like her gaze wasn’t constantly, inevitably pulled back to him.
The expensive bottle of firewhisky Pansy had ordered arrived at their table a handful of minutes later, followed almost immediately by Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini, who pushed through the crowd carrying a tray full of shots.
“Tell me you’re not planning to make us drink something cheap,” Pansy remarked, lifting her chin slightly.
“That insinuation was painful,” Blaise replied with a lazy smile. “They’re imported. Stuff that costs more than rent.”
“Paris or London?” Pansy asked, helping them set the trays down on the table.
“Both,” Theo replied. “Seemed like the bare minimum.”
Then he leaned toward Hermione, winking. “Happy birthday, Granger. You’ve officially survived another year.”
“Thanks… I think,” she replied, amused despite herself.
Blaise gave her a half bow. “Honored to have been invited.”
Hermione shot Pansy a sideways glance, muttering under her breath, “Invited is a strong word.”
“Details,” Pansy dismissed. “What matters is celebrating.”
Meanwhile, Jerome and his friends had returned to the private area and taken seats on one of the farthest couches, keeping a distance from the Slytherins that didn’t go unnoticed.
Ginny leaned toward Hermione, raising her voice over the music. “Are university parties always like this?”
Hermione wrinkled her nose as Padma burst out laughing.
“The ones at a private university in Paris?” she replied. “Always.”
Padma settled beside them on the couch, casting a secret glance toward Theodore.
“Here they don’t distinguish between studying and showing off. Actually, I’d say the second is mandatory.”
Theo smirked, not at all offended by the implication. He pointed to a few nearby tables. “See those jackets?”
Ginny nodded.
“Don’t look at the inside labels,” Hermione cut in. “You’ll get depressed.”
“Rich?” Ginny asked, already suspicious.
“Disgustingly,” Padma confirmed.
“Some are children of celebrities,” Pansy added with a sharp smile. “Others will only become famous because of their parents.”
Ginny whistled softly. “Wow… healthy environment.”
Pansy handed out the shot glasses, waiting until everyone was seated. When she passed one to Hermione, she hesitated.
“Oh no,” Pansy said, narrowing her eyes. “Don’t start.”
“I actually—”
“It’s your birthday.”
“It hasn’t been for a month.” She crossed her arms.
“It’s symbolic,” Blaise cut in, swirling his drink with a flick of his wrist. “Here in Paris, we extend everything that’s excessive.”
Theo raised his glass. “Including regrets.”
Hermione sighed, giving in under the girls’ stares. “Just one.”
Pansy smiled, finally satisfied, lifting her own. “The first of many,” she declared with theatrical solemnity.
Then she tilted her glass toward Hermione. “Happy birthday, Granger.”
“Come on, Hermione,” Ginny giggled.
Padma nodded. “One night won’t ruin your career.”
Hermione sighed, resigned, and it was at that moment that a calm voice, not far away, slipped into the conversation.
“You don’t seem convinced.”
Draco wasn’t looking at her. His eyes were on the shot glass, as if that were the interesting object.
Hermione pressed her lips together. “And that would be your problem?”
He looked up, meeting her eyes without hesitation. There was no irony, no challenge. Just attention. “No.”
A pause. Long enough for her to feel every gaze on her. Short enough to seem casual.
“But if you’re going to drink…” he studied her, “don’t do it because someone else told you to.”
Hermione stared at him. Even if his tone held no challenge, she felt it anyway.
Without breaking eye contact with his cold eyes, she brought the glass to her lips and drank.
The liquid burned down her throat, but her expression didn’t change.
Draco said nothing. But the way he followed the movement of her wrist and her mouth betrayed everything he hadn’t said.
-
The DJ was a friend of Jerome’s, and he had told her he was a wizard from a Muggle family. Hermione had no trouble believing it, considering the playlist that night.
Hips Don’t Lie blasted through the speakers at that exact moment, energizing the entire club. Hermione had merged into the crowd on the dance floor with Ginny, Padma, Mei, and Amélie.
They moved in a circle to the rhythm. Hermione felt her head spin slightly, but in a way she liked. It was as if she had suddenly become lighter, her thoughts dissolving into a cloud of smoke.
She swayed subtly, shaking her head. She had always thought this kind of party wasn’t for her, that dancing and drinking were pointless, something she’d never waste time on. Something foolish she would never allow herself to experience.
And suddenly, she understood. The atmosphere felt like balm on her knotted nerves. She wasn’t Hermione Granger anymore, she was just a stranger having fun at a party, just another blurred figure in the crowd, thinking about nothing.
She could feel eyes on her, as if someone was watching her from afar. It was a difficult sensation to shake, but she didn’t feel like giving it any weight, so she didn’t turn even once.
“I’m going over there. Now.” Padma suddenly declared, stopping mid-movement.
Ginny kept dancing but had the decency to ask, “Over where?”
Hermione followed her gaze toward the bar, where Theodore Nott was laughing with a blonde girl who had attended Beauxbatons with Amélie. The girl had a hand on his shoulder and was leaning closer and closer.
“Padma,” Mei called, “why are you looking at him like that?”
“I’m not looking at anyone,” she snapped. “I just want a drink.”
The blonde girl was sipping from Theo’s straw with a suggestive look. Padma moved instantly toward them.
“Padma!” Hermione called.
Amélie grabbed her arm, shaking her head. “Let it go.”
They watched the scene from afar. Padma sat on the stool next to Theo and started talking to the bartender. It was hard to tell from the distance, but she seemed amused, she laughed easily.
She took the drink placed in front of her, and before she could return, the bartender caught her arm and whispered something in her ear. She laughed again and nodded. Then, with her glass in hand - and without sparing Nott a single glance - she returned to the dance floor.
Now it was clearly him watching her, with an expression that didn’t look pleased.
“What did he say?” Ginny immediately asked.
Padma took a sip and laughed. “He asked if I’d like to stay with him after his shift.”
“What?” Hermione said. “Did you say yes?”
“I did the best possible thing: I was vague.”
Mei burst out laughing and tasted her drink. “Anyway, now he’s the one staring at you.”
“My grandmother always said, ‘You reap what you sow.’”
“Your grandmother knew what she was talking about,” Ginny replied, enjoying Theo’s expression from afar.
Padma started moving again, fluid with the music. She was very good at pretending indifference, but Hermione knew how much it had bothered her to see Theo with someone else. No matter how much Padma denied it, Hermione was fairly certain she felt something for him, and that it was returned.
After all, Hermione was only blind when it came to herself.
The music shifted into something slower. It was as if honey had settled over the dance floor, slowing everyone’s movements. Padma decided to go to the bathroom, and Amélie offered to go with her. They disappeared into the crowd.
“It’s official,” Ginny said, leaning into Hermione’s ear, “Malfoy hasn’t taken his eyes off you.”
She hadn’t whispered, it was basically a shout. Hermione lifted her gaze slightly from her glass, one eyebrow raised.
“Ginny, you’re drunk.”
Ginny shrugged. “Maybe. But I’m not blind.”
“She’s right,” Mei added. “He’s been watching you since he arrived. Even when he pretends not to.”
“He’s probably weirded out by my invitation,” Hermione shrugged.
“He could’ve not come,” Ginny pointed out, with Mei nodding in agreement.
“So what’s the nature of your relationship?” Mei asked. “Current version.”
“Sworn enemies since school,” Ginny sighed dramatically.
“Yeah, I got that part,” Mei laughed, making Ginny spin around.
Hermione rolled her eyes. “That description is reductive…”
Ginny thought for a moment. “Okay then, what do you think of: opposite sides of a war, shared trauma, and apparent redemption?”
Mei raised both eyebrows. “That’s much more interesting.”
Hermione took a deep breath and ran a hand through her hair, trying not to look annoyed. “Stop. We’ve just… decided not to kill each other. That’s enough.”
“Call it what you want,” Ginny said, swaying, “but if someone who hated me half my life looked at me like that, I’d start asking myself a few questions.”
Hermione shot her a tired look. “If you keep this up, I’ll start wondering why I came.”
“You know I can’t help telling the truth.”
“I know. But in this case, your truth is distorted by what you drank.”
Ginny laughed and spun her around. Hermione followed, closing her eyes and letting herself go.
Still, she felt that gaze.
She handed her drink to Ginny. “I’m going to get some air.”
“Want me to come?” Ginny asked, but Hermione shook her head.
“No. I’ll just be outside. I need a minute.”
She pushed through the crowd toward the side exit. The small courtyard outside was shielded by a privacy charm. The cool night air stung her skin, and for a moment, she just breathed.
The noise had faded, her ears still pounding along with her heartbeat, keeping her thoughts at bay.
She found herself asking two girls chatting about five meters away for a cigarette. She lit it with her wand. The smoke drifted slowly, and she felt silly - she wasn’t a smoker. She just needed something to do with her hands.
“I didn’t think you were the type.” A voice behind her. His voice.
Hermione turned, already knowing who her eyes would meet. Malfoy was leaning against the doorframe, his glaze calm.
“I’m not,” she said, bringing the cigarette back to her lips.She took a slow drag, but didn’t look away from his. An internal shock made her believe for a moment that Ginny’s reasoning wasn’t entirely flaws. “It’s for pretending to be relaxed.”
“In all honesty, Granger, it’s not working.”
She smiled faintly. “I figured.”
He stepped closer, hands in pocket. “I should tell you smoking is bad, but that would be hypocritical, considering…”
He didn’t finish the sentence. She barely raised an eyebrow, continuing to observe him.
“Considering?” she prompted.
Silence stretched between them. Malfoy stepped closer, and took the cigarette from her fingers with a casual gesture. He brought it to his lips and took a drag before handing it back. The smoke dissipated into the air.
Hermione stared at it. Then at him. Not out of curiosity but to understand
She rolled the cigarette between her fingers, realizing he’d just placed his mouth where his lips had been thirty seconds ago. A flush of heat colored her cheeks, she hoped he wouldn’t notice.
“You invited quite a crowd,” he said.
“That was Pansy. As you can see, she took control of the situation. I didn’t know my birthday party was going to be held here.”
“That explains everything.”
His tone was light. His eyes weren’t. Hermione thought his expression was different up close. She wondered if he’d seen her leave and decided to follow her.
She took another absentminded drag, in the silence of the evening that enveloped them. Malfoy was watching her openly, and she, thinking he wanted the cigarette again, offered it to him spontaneously. He looked surprised, but accepted it.
Malfoy took a slow drag, then tilted his head slightly, as if considering something.
“Did you come out for some air… or to bail?”
Hermione wrinkled her nose. “Is there a difference?”
He raised both eyebrows. “Usually, yeah.”
She hesitated for a second, then shrugged. “It was… too much. Sometimes everything is.” She gestured vaguely toward the inside of the place. “The music, the people. The expectations. One minute it feels like I’m living a normal life, and the next-”
Draco nodded slowly, like none of it surprised him in the slightest.
“I get it,” he said, offering her the cigarette again.
Hermione glanced at him sideways. “What about you?”
“What about me what?”
She motioned toward the street. “You’re out here too.” She kept watching him as she handed the cigarette back. “You don’t exactly strike me as the type who goes looking for silence.”
One corner of his mouth lifted slightly. “I’m not.”
“Then why?” she pressed.
Draco took the cigarette without answering right away. For a moment, he seemed more focused on the motion than the words.
“Inside, it’s easy to forget who you are.” He paused. “Or remember it too much.”
Hermione lowered her gaze. That hit harder than she expected. “So you’re out here for the same reason as me.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
They exchanged a brief, direct look. No accusation—just a quiet acknowledgment.
“What was prison like?” The question slipped out before she could stop herself. Her curiosity had betrayed her yet again. So much for changing the subject.
Malfoy stared at her, the cigarette hanging from his lips. He didn’t seem annoyed, but Hermione still felt her cheeks warm.
“I—I was just curious. Sorry.”
He took another drag, letting the smoke slide from his lips and dissolve into the air.
“Considering you kept me from rotting there, I guess you’re almost owed an explanation.”
She rolled her eyes, but stayed quiet, waiting.
“Cold.” She glanced sideways and saw he was watching the street. “The kind of cold that gets into your bones and never really leaves. Probably had something to do with the Dementors.”
She nodded. “Yeah… not exactly a great feeling.”
“Yeah,” he echoed, then snapped out of it and crushed the cigarette under his shoe.
They held each other’s gaze for a moment longer than necessary. “Granger, I-”
Then the door burst open, and Ginny’s voice cut through like a disillusionment charm.
“There you are! I was starting to worry! Hermione, what the-”
Hermione took a step back, like she was surfacing again. Draco gave the faintest hint of a smile.
“Oh…”
“Sorry, coming.”
She turned back to Malfoy, who was watching her with an odd expression.
“See you inside… I guess.”
“Actually, I think I’ll head out,” he admitted, toying with his family ring. “It’s getting pretty late.”
Hermione nodded right away. “Right. Of course.”
“Goodnight, Granger.”
He turned without waiting for a reply. Hermione watched his back as he walked away, and the feeling of his eyes on her lingered for the rest of the night.