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“I’m going to make you my wife Hermione Granger,” Draco said with a decisive tone and offered her a ring. He got the ring a week earlier at a garage sale. He found it in pile of knick-knacks. When he asked the seller, she just smiled and told him he could have the antique for free. It was a small band, with a sapphire-colored stone.
He was thirteen, and she was almost a year older than he was. They were in his parents’ backyard, the last picnic they had before he was off to the Football Academy. He was scouted and will be away for full time training now.
The girl looked up to him, her curls were wild due to the summer weather. “You can’t say that Draco Malfoy. I still have school to go to, and a whole life that I want to experience. Besides, do you really think you’ll marry the first girl you kiss?” God, she was so swotty he wanted to kiss that mouth again.
It was only a couple weeks ago, and their lips were only connected for a fleeting moment. But it was all Draco could think of. He could not forget how soft her lips were on his, and how badly he wanted to do it again. Draco knew, from that moment, that he was a goner. She was it for him. But he couldn’t very well say that, not after the sentiment she just threw at him.
He shrugged it off, “Well, I’m not saying it’ll be right now. I’m just saying that you will be my wife someday,” he took a deep breath.
Hermione stared at the blonde boy, his cheeks were red, whether it was from the heat, or he was actually blushing, she couldn’t tell. He was a little more mature than boys his age, Hermione had to agree. He had a brooding tendency, and was always, always be protective of her. She could remember one instance a couple years back when someone was teasing her until she was in verge of tears. He had jumped the boy even though Draco was much smaller than the boy. The boy was almost beaten to pulp by Draco had the teacher not jump in to interfere.
“I’m leaving tomorrow,” he finally said, “I want you to have something from me. So whenever you look at it, wherever you are, whoever you’re with,” he stopped to breathe for a moment. That last statement, he didn’t really want to think about it, “Well, you’ll know, you’ll always have me.”
Hermione looked at the ring and back at him, “Well,” she tried to find her voice, “that hardly seems fair.”
He looked at her with a confused look.
“You won’t have anything to remember me by.”
As if I could forget you, he thought quietly.
She lifted her arm and took out her beaded charm bracelet she made in camp last year, “Here,” she shoved the bracelet to him, and took the ring from his hand. “You wear this, so you’ll remember me too.”
He slipped on the bracelet as she wore the ring. It was still loose in her finger.
“Have fun Malfoy, I’ll miss you.”
He gave her a small smile, “I’ll see you in Christmas yeah Granger?”
“Okay,” she said with a smile. She took a tentative step closer to him and tiptoed until their lips met. His world stopped spinning and all he felt was her. The smell of her apple shampoo and her sunscreen flooded his senses. He was sure, so sure this was it. There will be no one after this, only her.
Somewhere in the distant, their parents were calling them to eat their lunch. They broke the kiss and shared a smile, they walked back to the patio together, glancing at each other with hands intertwined with one another, sharing secret smiles. Draco remembered feeling lighter, because half of his heart was no longer his, and she was keeping it. For as long as she was willing, and he would wait for her. Because at that moment, he was sure that he would be the one she’d come home to, and she was his.
“Draco,” her mouth was calling her, but the voice was not quite her.
“Draco,” the voice was heard again. He was pulled away from that world and another started to form in front of his eyes. He sucked in his breath. That dream again, about that day again.
That was the last time he ever saw her, 15 years ago. When he came home for Christmas, he couldn’t find her. His parents told him there was an accident, and both of her parents were killed. It was so sudden, and everything moved so fast. Then her relative came for her from the States and she lives with them now.
They didn’t have an address for her. Draco was devastated. He tried in vain to find her, but she just disappeared. All he had right now was the bracelet that she gave him. He had it fixed a couple times, had the best jewelers to change the band. They gave him a ridiculous stare, as if asking him why even bother with a cheap beaded bracelet. But comply nonetheless with the amount of money he would throw at them.
When he went back to the academy, he put his whole time on being the best footballer. He was the starting striker for the club at the age of 16, and that year he became the youngest player in the England National Team. He was consistently good; his accolades would speak for him.
“Draco,” a voice called him again, and his train of thoughts were shattered. Dammit, he thought, who was this again? Ashley? No. Amanda? No, it was something exotic, Aesha? Amerie?
He shifted to face his companion. For the love of everything holly, he could not remember who this was.
“Last night was fun,” she sighed.
He lets out a smooth chuckle, “Okay.” Dammit what was her name? He got up and look at the time. He had to go in an hour. He was leaving for Portugal to defend England for the Euro Cup. He started to walk to the bathroom.
“We’ll do it again sometime?” her face was hopeful. Draco scoffed, he made it so clear last night. They were always trying to be the one who broke Draco Malfoy.
He stopped and fidgeted with his bracelet, “No sweetie, I don’t do encores. I have to go. You’re welcome to stay for breakfast. But the checkout time can’t be more than lunchtime. The staff has been instructed to show you the door. It’s been fun.” He said without waiting for a reply and walked in the bathroom.
He faintly heard a muffled protest from the bathroom and a door slammed. He was willing to bet that there will be a post ranting about him being a manwhore. Same old, nothing anyone didn’t already know. He didn’t force anyone to bed, he never promised anything other than one night of fun.
He couldn’t give anything other than that. No one ever held a candle to her.
---
Hermione was in the middle of packing her things as Pansy, her roommate walked into the apartment.
“Uh, Hermione, love, what’s this?” she said with her sassy tone. Her sleek black hair swayed as she tilted her head sideways.
Hermione looked up for a second, “Oh hi! I’m leaving for Portugal for a month, watching people play soccer, covering the European Championship?” she said breathlessly and continued her packing.
Pansy gasped, “No shit! And you neglected to let me know about this? And when was I supposed to find out? When you’re halfway across the Atlantic?”
Hermione rolled her eyes, Pansy really had the flare for the dramatic, “Charlie just told me approximately,” she glanced at her watch, “90 minutes ago. The photographer that was supposed to cover this fell ill in the last moment. And since I was doing great on those NCAA coverage, I’ll be the one covering the tournament.”
“Hermione! It’s the second biggest football tournament, it’s the correct term mind you, your British is wearing off.”
She scoffed, “Pans, it’s 22 boys running around chasing a ball to prove their masculinity. All I need to do is capture their best side to add to my portfolio. Hopefully something in human interest next time.” Hermione knew exactly what football was. She just didn’t want to remember. She knew exactly what the Euro Cup was. She fidgeted with her ring that she had never took off in 15 years.
It’s a big tournament, she told herself. The chance of running into him was abysmal and the chance of him even remember her was very slim. She wondered if he even still has the bracelet.
Pansy scoffed, “Yeah, the warzone is preferable than ogling at those demigods.”
“Oh do shut up,” Hermione said. “It’s a passion. But we’ll get to passion. Now we have Euro to cover.”
“Get me the close up for Harry Potter would you.”
“If I’m covering the game, I’ll try to get his best side.”
“And that ass, omigod Hermione that ass.”
Hermione shook her head in disbelief, “Well I must continue packing now. I have to leave in two hours.”
“What am I supposed to do for the month then?”
“Frolicking around bars that show the matches? Pick up some bloke and hook up without the fear of me walking in?”
Pansy lets out and umph. “Ow well, that’s a plus, I’ll have this flat to myself, I can be as loud as I want.”
“As if me being here make you lower your volume.”
Pansy smirked, “True.”
Hermione found a confused Dean Thomas when she arrived in the airport.
“Well, this is a pleasant surprise,” Dean said and gave her a hug, “now this is going to be a fun month.”
She chuckled and returned his hug.
“Oh God, I’m glad it’s you.” Dean continued, “Charlie didn’t say who I was going to be paired up with. I knew Keith fell ill. I lucked out with you now! Let’s have a repeat Sugar Bowl then.”
“Oh, you mean that one time we got so drunk, and I made out with a mascot?”
“Didn’t we have a threesome with it too?”
“I can neither confirm nor deny that. Either I was so sloshed that memory kinda hazy or it was a traumatic experience I tried to block it out.”
“So what’s the Euro mascot this year? Maybe we could try to refresh your memory.”
“Dean… no,” she shuddered. “Well so what are we covering first?” she asked him as they walked inside the terminal.
“Oh, we’re moving around for a bit for the next week, covering the scene, and how some teams are preparing. We mostly based in Lisbon. And the first game we are covering is,” he looked it up in his schedule, “The France vs England match.”
Hermione fell quiet. So much for abysmal chance.
---
Their first week in Portugal went without a glitch. The rush of meeting deadlines and trying to find story to send back was a high for Hermione. Even though she mainly a photographer, sometimes she would contribute some pieces. She would write about cute coffee shop they go to or origin of landmarks or some hole in the wall restaurant that she’d discover.
She had been dreading about the first match, she was distracted the whole day. Being in the same space with him again. She was excited but scared at the same time. Would he see her? If he sees her, would he approach her? Was she still on his mind? Then her fingers would fidget around the ring that was a part of her left hand for the last 15 years. Does it still hold the same meaning?
She was spiraling.
“Hermione!” Dean’s voice broke her trance.
“Sorry, did you say something?” she asked.
“What’s with you today? Don’t tell me you have the first match jitters.”
She scoffed, “I’m sorry, just have a lot in my mind that’s all.”
“I need you 100% Herms.”
“Yes Dean, I’ll be here, I’m here.”
“Make sure of that, we got Pulitzer to win.”
She scoffed, “Aim high huh?”
He winked, “Always.”
He fiddled with his wrist where his non-existent bracelet usually sat. He had to take it off for the game. Does she see him, his every match? Does she know, every time he stepped on the field. He hoped that she sees him. Reach out to him. Does she still wear the ring?
He felt a slap on his back as Harry passed him, “Let’s play a great game today yeah?”
“Don’t I always,” he said with a smirk.
“Is that your brand?”
“What?”
“Narcissistic?”
“You mean confident?”
“Whatever Malfoy. Clean sheet yeah? No card, it’s only the first game.”
“You got it Capt.”
He heard the familiar call from the announcer, he jumped up and down to psyched himself, getting ready to get out to the field. He walked out to the screaming crowd.
She glanced at her watch, five minutes. In five minutes. She would see him out there. In person. For the first time, since their second kiss. You’re in the sea of photographer Hermione, she told herself. He won’t see you. Even if he does, the chance that he’ll recognize you was highly unlikely.
The man on the loudspeaker announces each of the team. Hermione looked to the direction where the team would go out. There he was, she could spot his blond hair anywhere. He was at least a foot taller from what she remembered. His lean physique no longer gangly, it was fit an ideal body of a striker. He was there, her Draco. Was he still hers? She fidgeted with her ring again. Seeing him now made her realize. How much she missed him, and how much time has passed. They’re no more than a hundred yard within each other, but it felt like a distance between two stars.
There was a signal for the press to take their position for the lineup pictures. She rushed to find a spot. She took a picture of the French Team and shifted to the English Team. Her breath hitched. From behind her lens, she could see the intensity of his grey eyes. His determined face. One she recognized back from their youth. His game face, he would dub it. She forced herself to stop looking at him and back to her designated station in the sideline.
She never thought she would enjoy the game, but she did. She followed Draco whenever she was bored. Sheer dumb luck when she was zooming in to Draco, he scored the first goal for England. He celebrated to her side of the pit. She captured his joy, his laugh, with a hint of smug every time he scored a goal. She would recognize it whenever she watched his matches. He still has that pure joy every time he stepped on the field.
She can’t help but feel proud. She gave a small smile, and she had to see him without the lens. She lowered her camera. At that moment, Draco looked at her direction, and was it her imagination, that they locked eyes. Silver met golden brown. His eyes seemed to recognize her for a second. For one second. Until Marcus Flint launched at him and broke their moment, then she ducked feigning change of her eequipment.
Did it really happen? Did they really lock eyes? She decided it was all in her head. There was no way he’d still recognize her.
It was euphoric, every time he scored a goal was always a high he could never explain, 1-0 for England. His first goal in the match and tournament. He really loved the feeling. He started running and celebrate. Suddenly he saw a familiar curls. Was he really that high he started seeing things? He would always recognize that curls. Fifteen years would not do any different. His mind was really playing tricks on him. Then he saw the owner’s eyes, how could his mind conjure such vivid image. He stopped for a second to see her when Flint attacked him from behind to join the celebration. He looked back and then she was gone.
For the rest of the game, he was distracted. His mind kept drifting to the spot and trying to find her again. He fumbled the pass for the fourth time now. Potter was yelling at him to keep his head in the game. How could he, when he just saw a glimpse that could be her.
He fumbled another pass, they were on the last minutes of the game. Xavier Marche managed to steal the ball from Draco and pass it to René Durand. That fumble cost them the lead. The French tore off Ron Weasley’s defense and scored. One all now. Nice going Draco.
She saw how upset he was as the ball was intercepted. He tried to win it back, but it was futile. As soon as the ball was passed from Xavier Marche to René Durand, Hermione knows it would be a goal.
She could see his face fallen. He knew he messed up. She knew he would try to regain his focus and control. She switched her focus and try to take pictures of the Frenchmen. Suddenly something caught her eyes. There was a scuffle just a little to the right of the celebration. Marcus Flint was in heated exchange with Xavier Marche. Marche was well known for reeling players in, and it seems like Flint was provoked. Hermione can’t read lips therefore she didn’t know the words that were exchanged. Suddenly she saw something hit Marche’s face. Flint just spat on the French midfielder.
Roar erupted on the stadium. The French supporters were on their feet. The referee jogged to the direction. Flint was awarded a red card, 91 minutes in the game. They were in injury time and the official pointed to the penalty box.
A more deafening roar erupted, this time was from the English fans. The English coach, Severus Snape shown protesting to the assistant referee on the sideline. He was screaming profanity. But the decision stands. Marcus Flint marched out of the field. The English player watched the scene in despair. She pointed her lens to Draco’s direction, lips pressed thinly, looking straight ahead, trying to hold back any emotion.
René Durand stood 12 yards in front of Ron Weasley. Determined, but Ron was also determined to stop the ball. The referee blew the whistle for Durand to take the kick. He started slow trying to throw Weasley out of focus, and it was successful. The goalkeeper was duped and dove in the wrong direction. 2-1 for France, with only 3 minutes on the clock.
The English players were trying to pull themselves together. But when the long whistle blew from the referee, Hermione took a quick glance at Draco. His jaw was clenched, even though he tried to show some good sport and still shook the opposite team’s hand. She knew he was beyond upset.
Forcing herself to stop watching him, Hermione packed up her equipment and made a beeline to the press room. She and Dean was going to meet up there, if she quick, she will get a great spot. She jogged and didn’t really pay attention to where she was going. The corridors looked the same for her. Why is this one so quiet, she thought to herself.
Suddenly she felt an arm grabbed her and shoved her to the wall and she fell on the floor.
“You bloody vultures! What the fuck do you want? A fall from grace snaps?” Marcus Flint was screaming to her face.
She was trying to process what was happening to her, “What the hell?” She was trying to get up.
“Hey Flint, chill!” a voice called out and pulled him. She heard scuffles, and a hand pull her up from the floor. She took her backpack and shoved it back to her shoulder. Her damn luck.
“Take him away now,” the man who helped her up hand her the tripod said. He turned to her plastering a polite smile, “Hi, I’m Sirius Black, I’m sorry about that, are you ok Miss….” She looked up, the man was in 40s with slightly disheveled hair due to the altercation caused by Marcus Flint. Albeit the commotion, he seemed calm.
“Granger, Hermione Granger, The Dispatch,” she said while eyeing the man’s ID. It read Sirius Black, PR Manager. “I’m fine,” she said, it came out a little harsher than she intended. She was mostly irritated for being lost and had to be a little late.
“Yeah Flint is just a little on edge, as you are aware.”
“On his inability to control his emotion and professionalism? Yep, I’m well aware.”
Sirius gave her a small tired smile, “Yes,” he sighed, “listen I know it’s going against your instinct, but I would appreciate it if you can be discreet?”
She looked at the man, she knew he was having a long night, and still going, “It’s ok Mr. Black it’s my fault really. I think I took the wrong turn. I’m on my way to the post game conference.”
“Sirius if you will, the Dispatch did train you right?”
“I missed the lesson on extortion,” she said and laughed, “Would you rather me blowing this experience up? It will take the focus off the real incident itself. I could twist this incident to become human rights violation.”
Sirius smiled, a real smile, “Thank you for making my life less complicated tonight. Is there anything I could do for you, any of your equipment broken?”
“Alas, my equipment is safely tucked inside the bag. Next time I’m in this situation, I’ll make sure my camera is in ready smash position,” she smiled and was about to walk away. “Well, if you could give me an interview with Harry Potter after the press conference it would be great.”
“You really did miss that lesson didn’t you Ms. Granger?” he said with a wink.
“Hermione’s fine.”
“Great then Hermione, here’s my card, and give me yours. I’ll make sure Mr. Potter will be yours to do as you please with him. Just make sure he’s in one piece for the next match.”
“Tempting Sirius, you do know how to woo a girl.”
“Just be on the side stage after the press conference okay.”
“Thank you so much. By the way, which way to the conference room?”
“Walk to the end of the hallway, take a left and there’s a double door, you should find the sign there.”
“Ah okay, thank you again Sirius.”
“No, thank you.”
With that Hermione made her way to the press conference.
“Who was that Siri?” Draco asked the PR Manager as he just walked in from the field. He had to stop a lot to comply to picture requests and some autograph signings.
Sirius eyed him and shook his head, “Drake, she’s not your type. She has brain.”
Draco sighed, “Ow hush, who was it?” he shifted to the direction Hermione off to, “She looked familiar.” She looked like her. But it couldn’t be her right?
“I doubt she’s on your calling card. She’s too smart for it. A reporter Flint almost assaulted, from The Dispatch,” he looked at his phone, “Hermione Granger.”
Draco’s heart stilled, and his blood ran cold. Two things went through Draco’s head at that moment. One: Hermione was here. There was no way the world has two identical looking girl with the same name right? And two: he was about to murder Marcus Flint for assaulting her.
“She wasn’t hurt right?” If she hurt, even just a scratch, Draco will hurt Flint back.
“No, she’s fine just a little annoyed and shook I bet,” the older man said.
A slight relief came into him, he cleared his throat to steady his tone, “What did she want?” He tried to keep his tone neutral, though his heart was about to combust. He could not believe it was actually happening. Could it be her? Is there any other Hermione Granger other than his Hermione who had that curly hair tied up in her signature high bun?
“An interview.”
“That’s all?”
Sirius chuckled, “Yeah, but she’s a rare one. She could’ve milked it.”
He let out a coy hmm, “Exactly.”
“You want to do it don’t you?” Draco didn’t like Sirius’ tone. It was accusatory almost condensending.
“I wouldn’t mind,” still trying his best to look coy.
“I told you, she’s too smart for you.”
“I resent that. I know how to use my brain.”
“One that you use for football or the one that makes all the decision for you?”
“Funny Mr. Black.”
“Too bad she asked for the captain though.”
Draco’s face fell, but he managed to keep a neutral tone, “Ah the Chosen One. I’m not special enough to settle a debt it seems.”
“Don’t fret Drake, you’re still the pretty one.”
“That doesn’t make me feel objectified at all.”
“Oooh ‘objectified’,” he said with an air quote, “fancy, did it hurt your brain?”
Now it was the blonde’s turn to roll his eyes, “Should I start another scandal, seems like Flint’s antic was not enough for you.”
“Nah, I’ll just let Theo deal with you. It is his job after all. And you did pay him for his worth. The number of clean ups he must made for you. Literally and figuratively.”
“You really know how make a bloke feel special Siri.”
“Stop calling me that.”
“You love me Siri.”
“Call me by my proper name, I’ll consider tolerating you.”
Draco laughed, but his mind was still racing. Hermione was in the same building with him. He can’t breathe. Sirius was right, this is a Theo thing. He walked to his locker and grabbed his phone. “Hey Theo, could you meet me back in the locker room please?”
Hermione half jogged towards an anxious Dean.
“Where have you been?”
She sighed an exasperated one, “I got lost.” She finally settled on an answer.
Dean looked at her deadpanned, “Where? To the boy’s locker room?”
“If I said exactly that, would you believe me.”
“No.”
“Then I won’t say it,” she shrugged.
“Bullshit!” He said and rolled his eyes.
“And I got you an interview, with one and only Mr. Harry Potter.”
“Har har har, is this your way to make up for not getting the good spot?”
She looked at Dean with a disbelief look, “Dude, this is your umpteenth time working with me, have I ever not got good pictures for you.”
He rolled his eyes.
“I don’t need good spots, I make one.”
“Humble, try it sometime.”
“I know not that word you speak of good sir,” she said and sauntered towards the crowd of photographers. The fact that she had acquired the interview excites her. Anxiety about Draco temporarily forgotten.
“Ms. Granger!” Sirius Black called out to her, with an enthusiasm.
She dragged Dean to the side stage after the press conference. Dean was still skeptical. She looked at him smugly, “Still calling me a liar?” she challenged with a smile. “Mr. Black!” she said trying to match his tone and gave him a playful smile.
Sirius gestured to the young man next to him. Harry Potter, the England National Team Captain stood next to him with a crisp checkered shirt and the national team jacket, “The Chosen One as promised.”
Harry gave a small smile, and they had their polite introduction. Dean was still baffled on how Hermione had managed to get the interview.
“And I might do as I please with this one?” Hermione said wickedly.
Sirius pretended like he gave it a thought, “As long as you return him ready for the next match.”
“Am I just a prop here?” Harry fake protested.
“Hush you’re a trade commodity,” Sirius said.
“I feel cheap now.”
“Take one for England boy,” Sirius said and pat his back, “All yours,” he said to Dean and Hermione.
Dean started to interview Harry, while Hermione trying to take their pictures. She took a mental note that she needed one picture with Harry alone to give to Pansy.
Draco was hyperventilating. She’s here, he said to himself, she’s here. The locker room was almost empty, most of his teammates were already out either to join in for the press conference or back to the base. He was still pacing the room, still in his jersey.
“Draco,” Theo’s voice was heard.
He stopped pacing, and saw his best friend turned manager standing in front of him. He sat down the nearby bench and palmed his face.
“She’s here Theo. She’s probably out there interviewing Harry now.”
Theo looked at him with a confused look, “Who are you talking about?”
“Hermione! She’s here!”
“No shit!”
“Yes! All these times, we were looking for her. She’s finally here! She’s a reporter, she got lost, and made a deal with Sirius to interview Harry, so she won’t report Flint.” He was talking so fast, he felt like he can’t breathe. He got up and started pacing again.
“Whoa that’s a lot to unpack and I have so many questions, but first and foremost, are you sure?”
“Eighty percent.”
“Eighty?”
“I just see glimpses of her, but I know the name was Hermione Granger. What are the odds of another Hermione Granger who has similar features with her exist in this world?”
“Draco,” Theo addressed him slowly and carefully, “Is it possible that you’re just imagining?”
“The name is real though. How many other Hermione is there in this world? With the same fucking last name?” He pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Well let’s just calm down now. Why don’t you just change first and we’ll see about this Hermione Granger thing shall we?”
He nodded and walked to the shower. The hot water washed over his body, gave him a temporary sense of calm. He dressed in silence, and when he stepped out Theo was still there waiting for him.
“Ready?”
He gave out a sarcastic laugh, “No,” he sighed, “I’ve searched for her for 15 years. Every time I stepped out on the field, I always asked myself, does she see me? Does she miss me?” He ran his hand over his mouth, “God Theo I’m spiraling!”
Theo gripped his shoulders to ground him, “One at a time. Let’s just make it 100% sure that it is her ok.”
He nodded and followed Theo out to the press area.
There were commotions, hustle bustle of people as he stepped out in the press room. The scanned the room, trying to find either her or Harry. For he knew there was a chance they might be in each other’s space.
His gaze freeze as he saw the familiar curls walking around Harry and this other man. He would assume that was the reporter and she was the photographer. He took a deep breath. It was really her.
“A hundred percent now Theo,” said as Theo followed his gaze to her direction.
“No way, Granger Danger.”
“You know she hated that nickname you had for her don’t you.”
“It’s a term of endearment,” Theo said, and Draco scoffed.
Draco stood there as he saw she took a picture of Harry and the other man. Then the other man gestured for her to take her picture with Harry. She rolled her eyes but agreed to take the picture anyway. Harry put his hand around her as they took the picture. A flash of jealousy ran over him.
“I’m going there,” he said before Theo can hold him back.
“What would you say?” Theo tried to catch up with him.
“Don’t know, I’ll wing it.”
Theo let out an exasperated sigh. Draco did not pay him enough.
He was approaching closer and closer to her, the waft of apple shampoo hit him, God she still smell the same. He took a deep breath and trying to keep his voice steady. Here goes nothing.
“You look familiar,” a voice called behind her. She jumped away from Harry and whipped her head so hard; she knew who it was. Her heart suddenly protesting wanting to burst out her ribcage, “Hello Hermione,” Draco called her.
All she could do was stared at him. Her mouth was dry, her voice left her, she suddenly forgot how to speak.
“You look well,” Draco said, for someone who has been MIA for 15 years. He gave a quick glance to her left hand. There it was, she was still wearing it. The ring he gave her in his backyard. With her wild curls whipping about in the hot summer weather.
He shifted the sleeve of his suit. She gasped as she saw the bracelet that she gave him.
“How?”
“Never took it off unless I have to,” he said with a small smile.
Her eyes were glassy. She was still looking at him. Not saying another word. As if gulping every feature that he has. His smile was the same, the one he has whenever he was looking at her. God, she missed him.
The other two men were confused with this exchange. “You know her?” Dean asked him, breaking the silence.
He gave another smile, “Well,” his breath hitched, his eyes never left hers. Grey melting into her brown. “She is, for lack of better terms, my fiancée.”