Chapter Text
She couldn’t even find a flaw. She was trying, earnestly and desperately, but there was nothing to be found.
The other woman was absolutely lovely.
It was a surreal moment, standing there, smile plastered to her face, nodding at all the right things and laughing in all the right places, all while burning in her own personal hell. The tears were just there behind her eyelids but by sheer force of will she absolutely refused to acknowledge them.
She had fought in a fucking war, she could stand here and make inane conversation without falling apart. So what if she had to grip her wine glass so hard she feared it would shatter in her hand. So what if, despite that stupid, insipid smile on her face, her heart was shattering in her chest. No one knew.
Least of all Draco.
He stood there, so close to Astoria, with that awful, hopeful expression as he watched them, his fiancé and his best friend. Like everything was okay. Like Hermione would accept Astoria and they could all be friends and he was so relieved that everything was going to be just so perfectly fucking okay.
Who was she to deny him this.
Things had been…awkward…since he had started dating Astoria but it had intensified since the engagement. Draco was trying to find a balance between the two women, and their two disparate worlds, difficult enough in the most perfect of circumstances. But nearly impossible when you factored in Hermione and Draco’s notoriety, their early days of animosity, the scattered rumors they’d dodged for years of secret dating and Hermione’s refusal to even meet Astoria (until she had run out of excuses and found herself here, today, drinking copious amounts of outrageously expensive alcohol.)
She was really struggling. Watching Draco allow this other person into his life, into the safe and comfortable places she used to inhabit, hurt with a pain that felt an awful lot like grief.
It was taking some concentration to breathe - in, then out, you can do this, Hermione - so she missed a good portion of the conversation Astoria was having with her.
She was nodding along, and smiling. Nodded again, took a fortifying sip of her wine, pulling off this charade, at least in Astoria’s eyes. She was congratulating herself on her fine acting skills when she chanced a glance at him.
Draco’s expression had begun to slip.
He knew her too well, of course he would be able to see a hint of something amiss. Of the existential crisis she was having even as she stood there with a brilliant smile plastered on her face and that white knuckle grip of the wine stem.
She had saved the wizarding world. She could do this.
Astoria was still prattling on. “I just find it absolutely lovely that you and Drake became such good friends.”
Her musical voice. That gods awful nickname.
“Yes, well,” Hermione stammered eloquently. Draco’s expression had slipped further into wariness.
“Enemies to friends, that’s wonderful.” Astoria actually clapped in ecstatic joy before placing a perfectly manicured hand on Draco’s arm.
Hermione took a gulp from her glass; it was rapidly approaching empty and with her peripherals she began to scan the crowd for a full tray. Unfortunately, she hadn't fully swallowed the liquid when Astoria continued. “If only you two had wound up together, what a romantic ending that would have been!”
Astoria was still speaking, something about how it was fortunate for her they didn’t or some such nonsense, when Hermione began choking on the bit of wine - which fortunately provided an excellent cover for the tears that had sprung to her eyes.
The world was still going on around her but there was an awful buzzing in her ears and she was moments from dashing away from the lovely (oblivious) Astoria’s concerned ramblings (and attempts to pat her back which would help her coughing fit Not At All) and Draco’s silence and ever blanker face. She might have even begun to turn in that direction when a tall, warm body sidled up behind her, and placed a hand gently against her back.
“I leave you for ten minutes, and you are literally drowning yourself in drink.” Theo began rubbing small circles and Hermione had never been more grateful for another persons presence in her entire life.
Grounded as she was by Theo’s hand, reality began to settle down around her. Her face felt numb and her knees were doing some kind of wobble but she was still upright and even managed a semblance of a smile. Satisfied that she was somewhat ok, he grinned back down at her, dimples on full display.
“Theodore Nott!”
Had Hermione used that high pitched time of voice, it would be called shrill, but in Astoria’s elegant drawl, it sounded musical, operatic almost. She was obviously very excited to see him, as the brilliant smile broke over her beautiful perfect features.
(Even her teeth were fucking perfect, straight and glistening white. Hermione’s parents would be in awe.)
Theo being, well, Theo bowed low and took her hand. “Astoria,” he purred in return, and kissed her knuckles. The other woman turned pink with delight.
To entertain herself, Hermione tried to pin a word to the emotion she was feeling. Frustration? Too mild. Vexation, perhaps. Surliness? Possibly. But was that even a word?
Jealousy? She hit the nail on the head with that one.
In her pondering her eyes drifted, as they were wont to do, and met Draco’s. It was a habit, to look to him in situations such as this, this nauseating Pureblood Courting Display enacted in full, over the top Nott fashion before them, as whatever Theo had said had caused Astoria to slip from pink to red and actually giggle at him.
That had been their thing, sharing moments of silent, snarky judgement. Non verbal communication had become a staple of their coping skills at functions such as this.
Tonight, however, Draco categorically wasn’t in the mood. It was his engagement party after all, not the best arena for playing their silly game of Judge the Aristocrat since the aristocrat they were actually here celebrating this time was, in fact, him.
She supposed that would all now be coming to an end anyway. Secrets and private jokes had no place in a married man’s life.
His eyes were narrowed in irritation and he was literally glowering at Theo, his face surprisingly open and on display. Theo was clearly overstepping with Astoria if the throbbing nerve in Draco’s temple was any indication. Hermione actually watched it in fascination for a beat. It had been a long time since she’d seen him so visibly angry.
Deciding it was time to rein Theo in, she shifted closer. He turned to her, still with that simpering smile lingering around his lips, but did stop expostulating about Astorias whatever lovely whatnot he had been carrying on about, perhaps her perfect tiny feet or her shining split-end free hair. (If it were any other woman, Hermione might ask about what product she used, but no sense highlighting further the glaring difference between those shining, silken tresses and Hermione’s frizzy nest.)
With a sigh, she put a hand on Theo’s arm. He covered it with his own.
“Nott.” Draco’s voice burst from him with a growl. She and Astoria looked up at him simultaneously, their faces mirrors of surprise. Funny that, Draco was now their common ground, the pureblood princess and the mud…muggleborn.
He was furious. Normally so controlled, it was a shocking thing to see.
“Draco, mate, congratulations!” Theo grabbed her hand and rested it in the crook of his arm. Draco’s eyes followed the movement, before looking up at Theo in annoyance. Theo smirked back.
A second ticked by, then another, until it became an awkward, silent staring contest. Unspoken things parried between the two men, volumes and volumes, betwixt Theo’s gleeful smirk and Draco’s red faced fury.
Fortunately Astoria’s breeding, or perhaps curiosity, kicked in and she broke the stalemate. Hermione was too engrossed in trying to decipher what exact silent language the men were speaking to do anything more than watch the show.
“So are you and Hermione here together?” That, patently, was the wrong choice of ice breaker if the expression on Draco’s face was any indication.
“No…” Hermione began to deny. “Yes!” Theo exclaimed in a chipper way. Smug way? Whatever way, he was excited to affirm it.
She silently berated herself for thinking this was a good idea, asking (begging) Theo to accompany her this evening. She should have suspected, when she saw the devilish glint in his eyes as she had explained her plan and strongly, vehemently reinforced in no uncertain terms about how they were going as Platonic Dates, that he would go off script.
Astoria again clapped her hands together in delight. “Oh how delightful!” She was truly, very delighted. She turned to Draco in utterly delighted glee. “Your best friends! Isn’t that wonderful, Drake?”
That bloody fucking gods awful nickname. Theo actually snorted.
“Yes, Drake, isn’t it?” He was grinning, wide and fully dimpled, up at Drake. Draco.
Draco, however, was far from delighted. Something was not right, and Hermione tried to catch his eyes in concern. But he was still silent and staring at Theo.
“Yes, wonderful.” He finally was able to unclench his jaw enough to speak. He was attempting to incinerate Theo with the force of his stare.
She knew any moment he would turn that heated gaze on her.
Hermione had acquired a strong sense of self preservation during the war. She knew what battles to fight and which to avoid, this moment falling squarely in the latter camp. She decided to try to do her best impression of her petrified self from third year. And then…
“Interesting, Granger hasn’t mentioned this development to me.”
Finally, a tray floated by. Hermione grabbed one, no two, champagne flutes. She was trying to dull her senses but the alcohol just refused to cooperate tonight as she downed one completely, sipping from the second before meeting Draco’s cold grey stare.
His brow was raised in question.
“It’s, um, well, we…” The ability to form a sentence was just out of reach.
“It’s so new,” Theo jumped into the fray. He slipped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer and nearly spilling her second, half filled champagne. “Isn’t it, darling?”
Astoria was clapping her hands together (yet again) in more delighted glee as Hermione nodded like automaton and mumbled something that sounded like, possibly, yes. Or maybe help, her mouth had gone rogue.
Draco had gone preternaturally still. She was suddenly caught in his gaze, the moment reminiscent of a gazelle caught in the predatory snare of a lion (ironically enough for a gryffindor such as she.) It was fight or flight and she froze.
The world around them faded to background noise and he spoke to her, quiet, as if they were the only two people in that room. “You never told me.” She could hear his reproach. You tell me everything.
She sometimes -always - hated being under Draco’s intense scrutiny. It was a terrifying thing.
“I was going to, eventually.” It was a half hearted response. She was lying. He knew she was lying, but she never lied to him, and a hint of hurt darted across his face. He didn’t know why she was, and that, that was a secret she had to bear alone.
She was terrible at keeping secrets, they all bled out in the expressions on her face. But there was that one thing she harbored that, despite his uncanny powers of perception, he had never seemed to see. She lived in fear that he would eventually figure it all out, see those foolish, foolish emotions she tried in vain to be rid of, realize exactly how she felt about him and everything would end.
She’d rather have this small part of him, this fragile, beautiful friendship, than nothing of him at all. Even if it meant her heart would be torn apart consistently, she would endure it. Even if it meant seeing Astoria’s perfect face and perfect teeth and perfect hair, and enduring her delighted joy in Draco and Hermione’s implausible, impossible friendship. Even as Hermione sat on the sidelines through the years watching it all, their wedding and marriage and (gods!) children. Watching the love of her life move through his life.
She was strong enough to hang on, to let these feelings bleed out of her until that hope was finally extinguished, until she could be in his presence and be able to smile and joke and breathe without that pain just behind her breast bone. She could do it.
She hoped she could do it.
She knew she’d been surprisingly instrumental in his redemption, his recovery. Once she’d adopted him, she remained a fixture at his side, defending him with all the vehemence she’d brought to the fight to keep Harry alive. No, she didn’t fix him, no one could actually fix another person unless they truly wanted to be. But she’d been his rock, his constant, his best friend, who helped him build himself up, crawl back from the dark place he’d been, realize he could be more than that Mark on his arm.
She wouldn’t, couldn’t, abandon him, least of all now, right on the cusp of finally finding the happiness and peace he deserved. And she was so fucking proud of him, standing here today, mostly Whole. A man who not only changed his life, but changed his mind.
She sighed, and downed the rest of her champagne.
This thing between them, this improbable friendship, meant more to her than anything. More than her feelings, more than her heart. It was honestly so much bigger than anything romantic that might have come to life between them.
She tore her eyes from his. Maybe Astoria had it right after all, to be so in awe of their friendship.
She would do anything - anything - to keep him in her life. Her heart might be shattering but the pain of ultimately and completely losing him, her best friend, that she couldn’t survive.
So she breathed in, deep, and leaned closer to Theo. She hated this duplicity, hated that she’d (unwittingly and completely without her permission) involved another man in their friendship, felt as if she were, oddly, betraying Draco. Even as he stood before her, with his hand at his fiancée’s back.
Her smile brightened - could he tell it wasn’t meeting her eyes? - of course he could, this was Draco after all - and she turned to Astoria, the safer of the two. The one who would believe every falsehood she would spew.
“Yes, this was so…unexpected, I’ll admit.” The words fell flat. It was so unexpected, she was as shocked as anyone else. When Draco had encouraged her to start dating, he probably hadn't meant a faux relationship with his childhood friend who obviously didn’t understand the meaning of “please accompany me as my Strictly Platonic date.”
But here she was. Could this day get any worse. (She bit that thought back because Theo was talking double dates so yes, it could get much, much worse.)
But if tolerating Astoria and Theo - ok maybe not Theo though because Draco would probably Avada him by the end of week one - if that helped ease Draco’s mind, she would do it. She would do anything for him. He had to know that they were going to be ok. That he could have his happiness and her friendship too.
Astoria was none the wiser, as she placed a gentle hand on Hermione’s arm, and proceeded to gurgle more pleasantries with Theo. (He was enjoying this far too much. Angry Words would be spoken later.)
While Hermione stood frozen with that smile in place, avoiding Draco’s judgment and his eyes.