Chapter Text
Draco watched as the probable love of his life kissed his best friend with so much passion and devotion. He tried to quell the breaking of his heart, but it didn’t help that he was the only one to blame for being in this position.
I. 10 months earlier
“Draco,” Hermione called, her big, beautiful curls flying wildly in the wind. “You aren’t even looking at the stars at all.”
Her smirk made his knees weak. She had convinced him to take her stargazing up on the hill behind Malfoy Manor, but she’d been stealing the show. He’d seen the stars so many times, they were nothing new, nothing compared to her beauty. The fact that he was ever rude, awful, mean to her when they were children, he’d never forgive himself for it. But he knew, even then, every insult was to disguise just how much he wanted her.
Her brown eyes bore into his soul, and he couldn’t for the life of him understand why she’d ever want to be with him. But he was trying; that was what she had asked about a month ago, to try and give them a shot.
“Sorry,” he finally replied. “Got distracted.”
Even in the darkness of the night, he could see her cheeks blush. He tucked a stray curl behind her ear and smiled again.
“What’s that one?” she asked, pointing to Cassiopeia.
He finally peeled his eyes away to look up at the stars and explain the lore behind yet another constellation. Draco was almost certain Hermione already knew about them, but it seemed that she liked listening to him, so he would flatter her.
They were both getting tired; it was well past midnight at that point. She looked at him like she wanted him to kiss her, but he wasn’t sure if he should.
“Draco,” she whispered. “Please.”
How could he deny her? Draco leaned forward and cupped her face ever so gently. She greedily met him in the middle, and their lips touched. She tasted sweet, like strawberries, and her lips were soft and gentle, but the tug on his shirt showed her eagerness for more.
He wouldn’t call the kiss magical because that was cheesy, and maybe it was just that she was the first person he’d kissed since Astoria, but he had to admit he felt a bit like he was floating. And the worst part—he wasn’t sure that was a good thing.
II. 3 months later
Draco closed the book he was in the middle of and sat up. Hermione just flooed in unannounced; he knew when a fight was coming on. Hermione was stubborn, but then again, so was he.
“You promised me you would come tonight,” she said with her hands on her hips.
He almost felt guilty for bailing; she truly looked beautiful in that dress, blue and silver and tight in all the right places. Her hair was pulled back in a perfect plait, but that he hated.
“No one wants me there,” Draco said pragmatically.
“I wanted you there!” she snapped.
“You don’t get it, Hermione,” said Draco calmly. “You’re the golden girl. You don’t have people looking at you like you are still Death Eater scum.”
“I hate that name, you know that,” she replied, her eyes like daggers. “And no one ever even talks about Death Eaters anymore.”
“I’m sorry that I don’t want to go to some Ministry Gala to honor Potter for yet another promotion where I have to pretend like I don’t know that everyone else is just pretending that they want me there,” he doubled down.
“Theo came and Blaise too. Hell Goyle was there,” said Hermione. “No one is holding onto the past except you.”
“That’s a lie,” he scoffed.
“Draco, Ron is literally married to Pansy,” she said.
“Oh, so if we get married, everything will be fine then?” Draco asked as he rolled his eyes.
“Don’t say it like it could never happen,” Hermione said, her tone saddening, but Draco was already at the end of his patience.
“My family doesn’t have the best track record for happy marriages,” shrugged Draco.
“Well, maybe if you actually opened up and told me about it,” Hermione prompted.
“You don’t want to hear about what I have to say,” said Draco.
“Gods, you’re unbelievable,” she replied, pulling her plait out in frustration. “Of course I want to hear about it! I’ve been begging you to let me in for months!”
“You want to hear?” Draco questioned, standing up quickly. “You want to hear about how I hated being at home, but how I knew if I was, at least my father’s rage wasn’t only focused on my mother? You want to hear about how every Christmas hurts because all I can think about is the time I accidentally broke my grandfather’s bust flying around on my first broom, so my father snapped it in half in front of me and then turned his fists to me? You want to hear about how lying became so second nature to me, because my mother thought teaching me to lie would keep me safe?”
She was crying now, but he wasn’t done.
“You don’t want to. I know you don’t. Why would you? Why would anyone? Astoria certainly didn’t.” Draco pushed on, “I can’t forget the hell I went through. I’m sorry if it’s messed me up and that I can’t be the perfect boyfriend all the time.”
Hermione shook her head and walked away. And he let her. Because he was right. No one wants to put up with all his trauma. Astoria left him because of it, more specifically, she found a new man, fucking McLaggen, before even leaving him, which certainly was a blow to his ego. Hermione was too good for him; maybe tonight she would finally realize it.
The rage boiled off his skin, and he was left with emptiness. Draco walked to the bathroom and threw cold water on his face. He stared at the mirror and hated the person who stared back. He hated his blonde hair and his sharp jaw, but mostly he hated that he had his father’s eyes.
III. 1 month later
Draco knew what was coming; it was inevitable. Hermione asked him to meet her at the park near her flat. He apparated there and saw her waiting for him on a bench under a large oak tree. She looked peaceful, probably had already made up her mind.
He slid in next to her as the wind picked up. Her hair blew wildly around, and he tucked a strand behind her ear. Oh, how he liked doing so. She leaned into his touch and closed her eyes. He kept his hand there for her a moment longer.
“Why am I here, Hermione?” he asked when she didn’t speak up right away.
“Can’t go on a park date with your girlfriend?” she asked back, finally turning to look at him in the eyes.
He smiled, but they both knew it was forced.
“I can’t keep doing this, Draco,” admitted Hermione. “I don’t know what else I can do to get you to trust me.”
Draco didn’t know what to say back. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her, or at least he wanted to trust her. It was that he knew deep down he wasn’t worth it, and that was the problem: him. Everyone else in his life had left him; he knew she would be the same.
“I’ve tried, so hard,” she continued. “But we fight more than anything else. It’s not healthy.”
“I know,” was all he could get out.
“And the worst part is,” she started tearing up, and he hated himself. “Now, when you should fight, when you should fight for me, you aren’t.”
“Hermione, I’ve told you since the beginning that this wasn’t a good idea,” he said, cruelly. “I selfishly said yes to you, but I shouldn’t have.”
He knew better, but he was, at his core, a weak man and she was a flawless woman and that was also the problem. Draco knew that he wouldn’t be able to give his heart to her, not in the way that she wanted, not in the way that she deserved.
“Right,” she nodded.
Hermione stood up, and he took her in. Her grey jumper and blue muggle jeans fit her like a glove. She was truly the most perfect specimen he’d ever seen. He would only be a stain on her life, and he wouldn’t be any longer.
“Draco, I hope one day you’ll learn to accept that when someone tells you that they can handle you, all the parts of you, including the dark parts and the bad parts, that you’ll believe them,” she said as her parting words.
“Goodbye, Hermione,” he said simply, because, really, he didn’t believe her; she just saw the best in people and didn’t accept that someone might not be worth saving.
“Goodbye, Draco,” she replied.
Her voice broke, and she cupped her mouth before turning away and leaving him sitting on the bench, alone once again.
IV. 2 months later
“Spit it out, Theodore,” Draco said, eyeing his friend.
Theo was pacing back and forth and had already downed two glasses of firewhiskey after asking if he could floo over.
“It’s just that,” the other man started. “Well, you know I would never do anything to put our friendship in jeopardy,” he said, his voice shaky.
“Theo,” Draco prompted, practically begging him to just say what was on his mind.
“IsleptwithGranger,” he said as one big jumbled word.
Draco blinked. He hadn’t been expecting that. It hurt. And he hated that it hurt.
“That’s fine, Theo,” said Draco, coolly. “We broke up a while ago.”
“I know,” he said, running his hand through his curls. “But it wasn’t just a one-night stand. I mean, it was, I guess. But then the next day, we started talking more and agreed to see each other again, to see where it might go.”
Draco felt like he got punched in the gut, again.
“My statement remains the same as before, Theo,” he choked out.
Theo eyed him; it was clear he didn’t believe Draco. But Draco wouldn’t be the one who held back his friend from someone so perfect as Hermione. Somehow, the cuts Theo experienced in his childhood, no matter how similar to Draco's, weren't fatal like they were for him. Somehow, it seemed Theo was healed or some shit. It made Draco want to scream. Why was he the only one left corrupted?
“Draco,” he started, softly, like he was trying to gain trust from a wild animal. “I don’t want this to affect our friendship.”
“It won’t,” he stated.
And he meant it. Theo was his friend, and that wouldn’t change. But really, he didn’t need anyone. Didn’t want anyone, because he would just let them down anyway, and then they would leave. Theo could never let him down, though, not even with this, because at least one of them deserved to be happy.
“Promise?” Theo asked. He looked like a kid again, like they were back in Hogwarts, fighting over something stupid.
“Promise,” Draco answered.
It was easy to say, especially when they saw each other once a month, twice tops nowadays anyway. Theo was busy at Hogwarts, teaching Arithmancy, and Draco was busy doing… well, nothing at all. Spent his days reading mostly and volunteering at the local Muggle library just to do something. It wasn’t like he needed any more money.
“Okay, good,” Theo sighed.
Draco gave his friend a reassuring smile and went to pour him another drink.
V. 3 months later
Pansy wrote him that she was stopping by, so Draco spent the morning cleaning the place up a bit. His mother would’ve been rolling in her grave if he’d have let Pansy see the shape of the place. But when no one came over, what was the point of tidying up more than he needed?
He waited for her at the fireplace, the proper pureblood heir he was. She walked through and was positively glowing. Her hair was longer than he remembered, but honestly, he hadn’t seen her in a long while.
“Draco,” she said sweetly.
He pulled her into an embrace and kissed her cheek. She smelled like coffee and sandalwood and a time from his youth, when maybe for one second he thought they might be perfect together. But that, of course, got destroyed; he was lucky to just have her as a friend still.
“How are you, Pansy?” he asked.
“Good, better than good in fact,” she smiled.
Pansy followed him to the sitting room.
“Weasley treating you well, then?” Draco mused over his shoulder.
“Yes,” Pansy smirked. “I would have his balls if he wasn’t.”
Draco laughed because he knew it was true. They sat down next to each other on the long settee. Pansy looked perfect as always, in a black mini dress and her red bottom shoes. To this day, Draco still couldn’t figure out how she walked in them.
“So, to what do I owe this visit?” Draco asked.
“Well, I have some big news I wanted to share with you,” Pansy said, looking unusually nervous. “I’m pregnant.”
“Congratulations,” said Draco instinctively.
Pansy. Pregnant. Her child would probably have that gawdy red hair. Draco couldn’t imagine it.
“Why do I feel like you don’t mean that?” Pansy eyed him.
Draco gave his best fake smile and said, “Pansy, truly, I’m happy for you.”
“Great, because I want you to be their godparent,” she said, leaving no room for Draco to refuse. “And the baby shower is next month, so you will be expected to be there. I know you’ve turned into somewhat of a recluse, but you will make it out for this.”
Draco wasn’t sure what he was more appalled by. The fact that he would be a godparent, even with the god part in the front, he’d never been able to wrap his head around the idea of him being a father. He was sure he would just fuck up that child's life. It’s not like he had prime examples of good parenting. Well, maybe if he just did the opposite, but he didn’t think that was the solution either. And he certainly didn’t want to partake in a frivolous baby shower, but he didn’t like that thinking that made the recluse comment somewhat true. It was just easier for him to be alone. Why didn’t anyone else understand that?
“Of course, yes. And I’ll come, Pansy,” he said, holding onto that smile from before.
Her genuine smile at his affirmation punctured his heart a little.
VI. 1 month later
Draco didn’t realize that a baby shower could be such a fancy affair, but it was Pansy Parkinson’s baby shower, so he should’ve known—well, Pansy Weasley, but that just didn’t have the same ring to it.
Of course, the invitation had said the dress code was formal, so he arrived in his best forest green suit and black, dragon skin oxfords. He’d shaved, which was overdue anyway and was ready to plaster on that fake, charming smile for the rest of the day. Most of the horde of redheads were not exactly in formal attire, but Draco certainly wouldn’t be saying anything.
It was Draco’s luck that the first people he saw were none other than Potter and Mrs. Potter, with a little one in each of their arms.
“Malfoy,” Potter nodded politely.
“Potter,” he replied back in kind.
“Malfoy, how are you?” Ginerva smiled at him. “This is James,” she motioned to the toddler in Potter’s arms. “And this is little Al,” she beamed at the baby in her arms.
“They're beautiful,” Malfoy said.
“Pansy told me she asked you to be the baby's godfather,” she started. “They asked me to be the godmother, so it looks like we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other.”
Draco couldn’t understand how she seemed so genuine in her joy about spending time with him. Maybe when you become a mother, lying becomes second nature.
“Yeah, splendid,” he replied, with equal enthusiasm.
The baby started crying, lucky for Draco, and they bid their farewell to try and calm him down. Draco finally saw Pansy. She looked beautiful. The skin-tight green dress showed off her small bump, and she stood out compared to all the blue and pink decorations, surely intentional. Weasley was by her side, looking prouder than any man he’d ever seen. He would never admit it out loud, but the other man must have done something right to bag someone like Pansy, but that sounded way too much like admiration for Draco’s liking.
Still, he walked over to the expecting couple and kissed Pansy’s cheek and shook Weasley’s hand.
“We’re so glad you made it, Draco,” Weasley said.
Draco was sure that was the first time the man ever called him his first name; it didn’t sound right on his tongue. Malfoy, filled with as much disgust and malice as Weasley could muster, was the usual way. Draco would’ve preferred that.
“Of course,” Draco smiled. “Anything for Pansy, and the little one.”
One of the many redheads in attendance came over and stole Ron away. Draco noticed Pansy’s mother was missing; he knew they didn’t speak anymore, but he was sure it still must be hard for Pansy, especially being surrounded by such a big, and loving (he begrudgingly admitted even to himself), family like the Weasleys.
“It’s a girl,” Pansy whispered to Draco. “I haven’t told anyone, even Ron. We were going to keep it a surprise, but I just couldn’t wait because how would I know what clothes to buy, you know?”
A girl. Draco, being a little girl's godfather, scared him even more. And things just kept getting realer. In a few months time, the baby would be here, breathing the same air as them. Draco would probably set a record time for how soon he would let down the little girl.
“That’s brilliant,” he smiled. “Your secret is safe with me.”
Pansy’s attention got pulled to the entryway, and Draco followed her eyeline. That’s when he saw her, saw them. Hermione and Theo, walking in together. They looked perfect, hand in hand. His navy suit matched her dress perfectly. Her hair in a messy bun on top her head, his curls casually brushed to the side, like they couldn’t keep their hands off each other once seeing each other all dressed up.
“Excuse me,” Draco said as casually as he could.
He felt like he had to vomit. Everyone here had their person. How could they all be such fools, allowing someone in so deep? What about when the other person started cutting their way back out after being suffocated? What about when the other person rips away after being left out in the cold?
Draco tried walking away. He felt himself spiraling, but then his world stopped spinning. The noise from the musicians ceased, and the murmur of the crowd evaporated. It felt like the only people left in the world were him and, twenty feet away, Theo and Hermione, locked in each other's arms. Draco watched as the probable love of his life kissed his best friend with so much passion and devotion. He tried to quell the breaking of his heart, but it didn’t help that he was the only one to blame for being in this position.