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The bed shifted, waking Hermione from her slumber. When she had fallen asleep she hoped tonight would be different. That he would forget about the rules he set himself when it came to whatever they were. Keeping her eyes firmly closed to avoid the reality of the situation, unwilling to face his refusal to stay until morning. That he was not creeping out once she had finally drifted into the peaceful sleep she only found in his embrace. As though her body knew to protect her, Hermione always seemed to fall asleep with her back to the door.
Hermione listened as he shuffled from beneath the covers and quietly slipped his trousers back on. She heard the rustle of clothes as he searched for his shirt where it had been tossed across the room in her haste to feel his smooth, cool skin beneath her fingertips. There was a shuffling and soft thud as he pulled on his dragon hyde boots. Hermione could picture him, a reversal of the uninhibited man who had thrown her against the bedroom door hours before. He would be perfectly put together, not a hair out of place, all clean lines and elegance. She knew they were from different spheres, their frames of reference worlds apart. Intellectually, she knew they were not built to exist outside the heated meetings and clandestine affair they were in. But her heart would not allow intellect to win, no matter how hard she tried.
Taking a steadying breath she rolled over in bed, pretending she had only just discovered his side of the bed empty. Her drowsy eyes fluttered open just in time to watch him button his crisp, white shirt.
“Go back to sleep,” Draco whispered, as though they were not the only people in her tiny flat.
“You’ll come, won’t you?” Hermione said, ignoring him.
“Of course,” he placated flatly.
Hermione shifted to sit up, pulling the bedsheet to cover her chest. She always felt a childish embarrassment when this part happened. As though she suddenly needed to be modest around him. As if his mouth and tongue had not been travelling every inch of her bare skin hours before. Seemingly sensing her unease, Draco glanced up from fastening his cuffs before striding back to the bed and placing a gentle kiss on her forehead.
“I promise. I’ll go to the silly gala and spend the night with the prettiest witch in the room.”
Despite herself, Hermione relaxed at his reassurances. “Okay,” she breathed.
“I need to go,” he said, halfway across the room in a blink. “I’ll be there,” he soothed once more before striding through the door.
Hermione shivered, the mid-December air hitting her skin suddenly as if all warmth had left the room with Draco.
Lights danced merrily, giving the usually dour Ministry function room a festive glow. The champagne had been flowing all night and the room was filled with chatter and laughter befitting the season. Ever since the war ended three years prior, the Ministry put on an exhibition to raise funds for the orphans who had lost their parents to Voldemort’s reign of terror. Every year they were a success, with the magical elite spending extortionate amounts of money on exclusive access to a significant magical artefact for one evening. Harry, Ron and Hermione were always invited as the guests of honour, expected to sweet talk the attendees out of more cash to go to a worthy cause. Yule, after all, was a time for giving.
Despite the circumstances, Hermione tended to enjoy the gala. She liked the opportunity to shed her grey DMLE robes and get out from under the folders piling up on her desk, while still feeling like she was doing something worthwhile. It could become isolating, sitting behind a desk, day in, day out, fighting for Creature rights. Hermione had been especially excited for this year’s exhibit, the Mirror of Erised. Harry had told her so much about the fascinating piece in the excitement of the event that she had been humming with exhilaration to see what her deepest desire was. On reflection, she was not sure if that was in anticipation of seeing the Mirror or her nerves about revealing her relationship with Draco to the world.
As the night wore on, however, her enthusiasm had turned to dread. When Hermione entered the ballroom to find that Draco had yet to arrive, she concluded that he would appear shortly. The evening passed and conversation drifted on around her, but Hermione found herself glancing over at the heavy double doors throughout the evening.
Seven o’clock.
It’s still early, she thought, he probably hasn’t left the office yet.
Hermione took a seat at the back of the ballroom at one of the tables that were dotted about. She found a spot where she could keep an eye on the door when Draco arrived and made herself comfortable. It was not long before people approached her to make small talk, helping to distract her from the feeling gnawing at her.
Eight o’clock.
He’s running late, she reasoned with herself, a multimillion-galleon company doesn’t run itself, after all.
Hermione tampered down the notions niggling at the back of her mind. The ones that told her that she knew the hours he kept.
Nine o’clock.
It had been a while since anyone had spoken to her and Hermione wondered absently if she should leave her seat and make conversation. Suddenly, a flash of blond hair caught her eye and her head swivelled around only to find her eyes did not meet icy grey.
He’ll be here any minute.
Ten.
He promised.
Half-past ten.
Where is he?
Quarter-to eleven.
Maybe something terrible has happened.
Eleven.
What if he’s splinched himself trying to get here? What if his mother did something to him? What if he’s in St Mungo’s? What if…?
“Have you seen it yet?” Harry’s voice cut through her thoughts just as they started to turn in a direction she did not want to go.
“What…? Oh, the Mirror. No, not yet,” Hermione said distractedly, glancing over at the entrance once more.
“Why not?” Harry exclaimed, “I was sure you’d be one of the first ones in there.”
“I was waiting for… I’ll go now,” she sighed, before standing from where she had been sitting all night.
As she passed her best friend she felt him grab her hand. Looking down, his emerald eyes looked at her earnestly.
“He doesn’t know what he’s missing.” When she met his gaze with confusion he continued, “You deserve happiness, Hermione, like I have with Theo and Ron has with Astoria.”
Hermione felt the prick of tears at the corner of her eyes and willed them not to fall, “You’re too observant for your own good sometimes, Harry.” She gently pulled her wrist from his grip before moving to the back of the room.
Reaching a heavy gold curtain she pulled it aside to reveal a small chamber with a large ornate mirror standing against the back wall. Seeing that no one was around, she moved further into the dark space. The buzzing of the party seemed to fade as only the sound of her heels clicking against the flagstone and the swish of her dress could be heard. She regretted not bringing her shawl with her as the chilly December air hit her exposed shoulders.
As she came to a stop in front of the mirror, Hermione had the opportunity to admire her reflection. She had opted for an elegant Grecian style dress in cream and gold. The silk skimmed over her slim hips and cascaded gracefully to the floor, while the sweetheart neckline hinted tastefully at the small amount of cleavage she possessed. Her hair was twisted away from her face in a low bun and her makeup clean with a classic red lip.
Letting out a breath she did not know she was holding, Hermione’s gaze shifted away from her appearance to the purpose of her visit. Patiently, she waited to see her heart’s greatest desire. When the vision in front of her did not change, she frowned. Had the Ministry only decided to display a replica of the mirror? Surely not. Hermione was sure she heard other guests talk about what they had seen tonight. When the apparition still did not change, Hermione exhaled in frustration and turned to leave, only for her eye to catch on the reflection of a well-manicured hand. She watched, stock still, as the gold curtain in the mirror moved aside to reveal Draco standing in the entrance to the chamber.
Hermione dared not stir as he moved further into the room and relief flooded her. He was there. Just like he said he would be. Just like he promised. She knew there would be some reasonable explanation for why he was late. How did he know to find her here? Had Harry told him? Joy washed over her as he drew closer, tears of reprieve falling freely down her cheeks. Just as Draco was at her shoulder, Hermione spun on her heels to greet him.
In an instant, bliss turned to misery as Hermione faced a dark, empty room. Tears spilt down her face unbidden as she realised she was alone. Only one thought echoed in her mind as her heart shattered.
He promised.