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Hermione brought the crystal glass to her lips, taking a sip of her second pour of whisky. Or was it the fourth? She doesn’t remember. And she doesn’t care.
Hermione isn’t the kind to drink. She usually spends her nights curled up with a good book or enjoying listening to the laughter from her second family. But tonight is different.
May 2nd.
She is expected to show up tomorrow at Hogwarts and give another speech. This whole week has been appearance after appearance.
Hermione Jane Granger. Golden Girl. War Hero. Order of Merlin, first class. Hogwarts Prefect. The know it all. Muggleborn witch.
So many fucking titles.
She takes another gulp, letting the liquid burn as it goes down. She is tired. She is constantly being sought after. Always making sure others are taken care of, but who takes care of her? Who looks after Hermione Granger?
“Surprised to see you at this hour, Granger,” a voice takes her out of her deep thinking. Draco Malfoy, in his expensive robes, takes a seat on the bar stool next to her.
“Malfoy,” she greets.
Draco orders himself a glass of fire whisky and surprising Hermione, another glass to replace her nearly empty one. “Drinking alone?”
“I was,” she mumbles. She doesn’t have the energy to deal with him right now. She already had to tolerate him this week at work. Even if the past 3 years have been somewhat civil between the two, they are far from being friends.
“So what brings the golden girl in this place at this time of night,” he asks.
She had a few drinks in her, so she can hold a conversation with him without getting a headache. But hearing what he called her caused her to groan in annoyance.
“Can you not,” she tells him. “I hear someone refer me to as golden girl one more time and I’m going to start another bloody war.”
“Ouch. Okay, Granger. But I’m curious. The anniversary is supposed to start tomorrow noon and by the looks of your collection of empty glasses,” he waves his hand to the counter. Well she figured out how much she drank. “I don’t think you’re going to be in the best condition to give another inspiring speech about hope. And I was so looking forward to that.”
“You’re going too?”
She takes her eyes off her glass to look at him. She has never been this close to him before until now. He certainly grew up. Hermine wasn’t blind. Sure he is an asshole, especially in school, but she can’t deny how attractive he is. Even in school she caught herself staring at him a bit too long. She didn’t even notice his hair was a bit darker too. It was always so blonde. Almost white. Ferret.
“Yes unfortunately. My mother was invited and since Lucius is in prison, she asked me to accompany her.”
“Not excited to go I see,” she assumed seeing the grimace on his expression.
He’s not. Unlike Hermione who has been receiving all types of praise and worship, Draco was getting the opposite treatment. Just today, he was walking from Gringotts when a witch about his age spat on him and called him Voldemort’s bitch. Every year at this time, he was reminded constantly of what he was. Even with the covered mark on his arm, he can never escape his past.
“No,” he answered shortly.
She raised her glass to him, “Well here’s to suffering together.”
Draco’s eyebrow’s rose in surprise, but none the less he raises his own glass, “To suffering.”
After a few silent minutes has passed, Draco speaks up. “So why are you suffering? It’s not a mystery why I don’t want to go,” he gestures to his arm.
She couldn’t help but release her pent-up frustration. She told him everything. She didn’t hold back either. Why would she? She was done with it all.
“—they seem to forget that I was a kid. I had no idea what I was doing. I was just trying to keep Harry and Ron safe. And the bloody battle. I had to kill. Nobody knows. They all think I’m a saint. Because of course Harry Potter’s goody two shoes best friend couldn’t possibly kill. The Golden Girl could never use an unforgiveable. No of course not! Hermione Granger never uttered the killing curse before! She isn’t capable of that! All they see is Hermione Granger, the golden good girl.”
By the end of her rant Draco was already on his third drink. He took the last portion in a shot, slamming the glass tumbler a tad bit hard.
“I get, Granger. Believe me I do. They only see me as death eater. I was a kid when I took the mark, barely 16. And it wasn’t even my fucking choice! All because of Lucius and his fuck up and I got branded as punishment. I was terrified the entire time. I didn’t follow because I worshipped the sick fuck. I did it to protect my mum.”
Hermione raises her empty glass to the bartender, asking for a refill for her and Draco. “Ron and Harry get to go in all these missions, being aurors and all, and if I make a comment about whatever dark object they are looking for and Merlin forbid, I show interest in it, they look at me as if I said something positive about Lord No-Nose.”
“Granger, there is nothing wrong about finding dark arts interesting. You crave knowledge. It’s just another side of magic,” taking another gulp before continuing, slurring his words a bit. “It’s all about intent.”
“You know I mastered Snape’s curse? Yup. All me. Used it during the battle too.”
“The curse Potter threw at me back in 6th year?”
“The very one.”
“Almost killed me,” he grimaces, clutching his shirt that is hiding the deep scars from the curse.
“Yup.”
Hermione checked her watch for the time. It was getting close to 2AM. The bar will be closing soon. Her stomach growled and she remembered she skipped dinner earlier. She was invited along with Ron and Harry to dine with Kingsley and some members of the Order, but she declined. She doesn’t want to spend her night hearing them pass war stories. Hearing the praises thrown at Harry as if he did everything on his own.
“Kitchen is close by now for certain,” Draco spoke up. His stomach was doing the same hunger pain filled cramps like her. “Know any place open?”
She thought about it for a while. She is hungry, and she didn’t mind Draco’s company much to her surprise. So far, they were getting along. She took one hard look at him, narrowing her eyes at the pureblood wizard in front of her in his expensive black robes. She took his arm and dissapparated near a restaurant.
“Draco Malfoy, allow me to introduce you to the wonders of good old fashion midnight drunk tacos,” she announces. “You’re going to have to change though.”
Draco smiles at her and successfully transfigures his robes to muggle slacks and a button up shirt. Hermione does the same as well and now both of them look like two regular muggles.
“You know what the best part of being in the muggle world,” she begins to ask.
“Nobody knows who you are,” Draco interrupts her. “I actually own a flat near here. It’s nice to be somewhere where nobody is terrified of you, or in your case, worshipping the ground you walk on.”
“That is actually really smart. Why didn’t I ever thought about that!”
He smiles at her again, a genuine smile, “Maybe you’re not the brightest witch of your age.”
She doesn’t even feel annoyed by his comment.
They walk around the restaurant until they reach the counter used for outside ordering. They ordered enough tacos to last them a day. Draco’s reasoning was because Hermione missed dinner, so naturally she had to make up for it. Flawless thinking in his drunken mind.
They took a seat on a bench stationed in the patio, each with their own of greasy tacos.
“Do you really have to make a speech,” Draco asks between bites.
“Merlin, I forgot about that,” she groans in reply. “I really don’t want to attend, but I will never hear the end of it from Harry and Ron. They already think I’m being too much this week.”
“People just don’t get it. We all lost somebody in the war. We all had to fight. And some of us can’t fucking cope.”
“Who did you lose? Not trying to sound harsh, Dra—Malfoy, but you were a death eater. From what you told me, you only cared about your mum.” She almost called him his first name. She was really enjoying his company. It was nice. I felt they were just two regular friends.
“I had a friend in school. His parents were death eaters, not in the inner circle, but none the less death eaters. He didn’t believe in it. So they killed him.” He takes a rather gulp of his beer before continuing. “And you know who did it? His father.”
“I’m sorry, Draco. I shouldn’t have asked,” Hermione whispered feeling very guilty for her question. Of course he would’ve lost someone.
“I lost my dad too. The wizarding world sees him only as a death eater, but to me he used to be everything. I wanted to be like him. He loved my mother and I, in his own deranged way. But his prejudice, his deep rooted hate for muggleborns, corrupted him more, if that was even possible, when Voldemort returned to power. He always craved power so he followed him, and the protectiveness for my mother and I washed away.”
Hermione wanted to reach out him. She wanted to comfort her school bully, place her hand on his, anything to soothe his heart ache. She hesitated, her hand inching closer and then Draco met hers.
“I lost my parents,” she finally told him, her grip on his hand tightening. “I obliviated them at the start of the war to protect them.”
“I’m sorry.”
“We all lost someone in the war,” she finishes.
They ate the rest of their food. It sobered them up and Hermione still felt comfortable with him. The night seemed to go on. They apparated back to Draco’s flat in the city. It wasn’t what Hermione thought the rich pureblood to own. It still had that posh aesthetic she expected, but it was humble.
“These muggle carbonated beverages are delicious,” he said as he pulled two coke bottles from his fridge, another thing Hermione didn’t expect he owned.
They went out to the balcony and continued their conversation. Not of the war, but just about things. They had a lot in common which again she did not expect. The sun was starting to rise and neither felt tired yet.
“So you and Weasley, huh,” he asked her.
Hermione laughed, “Merlin. What was I thinking!”
“Always knew he wouldn’t be able to tie the great Hermione Granger down,” he laughed with her.
“Don’t get me wrong, Ron is great. He is my best friend, but boyfriend material he is not. Besides he seems pretty happy with Padma Patil.”
“You’re too good for him anyways. You need someone who can match that big brain of yours, Granger,” he teased while pointing at her head. “Someone who shares that same passion for knowledge and finds spending an afternoon in the library as the best part of his day. Someone who is love with Hogwarts, A History.”
“Oh and you know who would since you feel so strongly about it,” she asked him.
“I have someone in mind,” he playfully replied. “More of those muggle tacos and you’ll find out.”
The sun has already risen. The night’s event finally catching up to them. Hermione stretched her arms and let out a long yawn. Draco doing the same after her yawn.
“I don’t believe you’re going to the anniversary event. We haven’t slept at all,” he gestured to the sun.
“Are you still going?”
“Yeah, my mother needs me,” he frowned.
This whole night is what she needed. She confessed her thoughts on the war, her status, and revealed what she had to do in the war. And he was the only one she had ever confessed to. He managed to place her stressed mind at ease and felt she can give another fake speech. They weren’t friends she reminded herself, but tonight he has been damn close to one.
So one final confession, one more admission.
“I’ll need you too.”