Chapter Text
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Draco sighed when he stepped into the Leaky, the smell of smoke and alcohol permeating the air, what few laughs he heard sending shivers down his spine.
He didn’t know how anyone could laugh right now.
Not when there was a witch dying before their very eyes.
He took off his gloves and pocketed them, approaching the bar cautiously where Hannah eyed him curiously.
“Malfoy.”
“Abbott.”
“What can I get you?”
“Whatever Granger’s having.”
“Oh, Hermione’s here?”
He blinked.
Hermione had been here everyday, her routine sharp and in a booth no later than 6:30 pm, leaving at 8:00. How did Abbott miss her, he didn’t know.
He noticed everyone was ignoring Britain’s Golden Girl, almost as if she didn’t fight for their ability to fucking ignore her.
“Just two whiskys please.”
He turned his back to the bar and caught the faint sight of a disillusionment charm, quickly taking the two glasses and casually walking through the crowd.
He too, was someone Wizarding Britain didn’t mind ignoring.
Slipping through the weak ward she put up, he sat right next to her in the booth and ignored the seat in front of him. The smell of cinnamon lingered around her with a tang of alcohol, and he was sure one swipe of his tongue across her lower lip would confirm she was at minimum two drinks in.
“Draco?”
He arched a brow and he glanced down at her, finding her red rimmed eyes watching him closely. “Hermione.”
He set a glass in front of her and took one of the empty ones, casting an aguamenti for her to sip on.
“What’re you doing here?”
“Do you really want to talk about it?” He inquired back, bringing the amber liquid to his lips. He watched her lips part slightly before she turned back to her drink and went to something furthest from nursing it as she could.
Not one to be out drunk he threw his two fingers worth back, coughing slightly at the burn.
“How long have you known?” She asked quietly, glancing at him again from the corner of her eyes.
“About two weeks, you made me put my Auror skills to work.”
Hermione scoffed, lowering in her seat. “Apologies that I didn’t outright say I’m losing my mind and everyone’s abandoning me.”
Draco shook his head. “No words were needed, really.”
The silence between them was comfortable. One he was content with if she decided to no longer entertain his presence, never mind the fact he didn’t plan on going anywhere.
“You know your aunt’s a real bitch right?” Hermione muttered, finishing off her drink. “I’m glad she’s dead.”
“Me too, honestly. It’s probably the only thing the Weasley matriarch has done to benefit Wizarding Society.”
The laugh that escaped her was one that left him warm and lightheaded, the witch resting her temple on his shoulder. “Did you know the Black curse could be transferable? Not just hereditary?”
“I did not.”
She let out a weary sigh. “When Bellatrix carved into my arm her hand had slipped and she cut her palm. When she manhandled me, our blood must have mixed. So, just how dark magic can become infectious, apparently dark curses can as well. Her magic just blended with mine like fog in the night.”
Draco was still, deathly still, and she caught onto it. “It’s not your fault.”
He leaned over and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “So how long do you have?”
“Before I go mad? The healers aren’t sure. All they told me was the legilimency you did during my torture is the only reason why I don’t have a room at Thickey ward right now.”
That didn’t make Draco feel any better. If anything, it made him want to die. Everything she had been through was all his fault in the end no matter what sugared reasoning the little witch in front of him tried to give.
“Does anyone else know?” The smile he got in response was feral and riddled with pain all at once.
“Don’t you know I’m Hermione Granger? I can figure anything out and they’ll be there to help me.”
“You’re telling me the two fucks you’ve kept alive for over a decade have you figuring this out alone?”
She pointed to the empty bench in front of them as if that was an answer in itself. “They’re busy, really. Both have babies on the way they weren’t expecting and I just don’t want to bother anyone.”
“You’re not a bother? Hermione, gods, my entire world would stop if I were them.”
Hermione let out a soft hum. “Would it?”
“I’m here aren’t I? I knew something was wrong when you put your notice in at the DMLE.”
She turned her attention fully to him now, finally giving him the Hermione he knew. “I can’t afford any type of specialized treatment and I’m a risk to the department.”
“Potter’s the fucking head Auror, Hermione, he’s almost as disgustingly rich as me.”
“You’re making it really hard to defend my friends.”
“Because they’re not much to call friends, are they?”
The silence fell between them again, this time Hermione shifting closer. “Sometimes I think you were right all those years ago, when you whispered to me in the library that I could do better.”
“I still mean it, honestly.”
“I know. But they’re my brothers.”
Draco took a deep breath, the smell of her shampoo comforting.
“I’ll pay for your treatments.”
“I’m not looking for charity or I would have asked Harry.”
“It’s not charity.”
“It is. Your guilt about your aunt doing irreversible damage to my sanity is absolutely a charitable situation.”
He sat up and gently grabbed her chin, forcing her to look up at him. “Marry me then.”
“Maybe the curse is strongly hereditary,” Hermione scoffed.
“Oh come off it, love. We’ve been dancing around each other for years, Mi. Years. Be mine, just let me take care of you. Let me love you. My family kept us apart then there was the stupid war, and now nothing is holding me back from you. It’s not charity and I can get you out of this fucking bar.”
“They’ll hate you.”
“Then I guess they’ll hate me. Feelings pretty fucking mutual considering the state you’re in.”
He quickly swiped away the few tears that fell.
“Can I tell you something?”
The question was so quiet he almost missed it with the bar growing louder as night neared.
“Always.”
“You know sometimes I still feel like I’m fifteen, screaming to be seen. For someone to care about me. No one did, not really. Instead, I just made sure I had my shit together and pretended it was fine. That I could be known for being alone and the smartest in the room, it not bothering me in the slightest. But it does. It still does. Do you ever feel that way?”
How could he tell her that everything wrong in his life disappeared anytime she looked at him, really looked at him? Or that the sound of her laugh alone could heal the deepest wounds even he didn’t know he had?
Sometimes no words were needed.
“I see you,” he murmured, the witch nuzzling into the palm of his hand.
“I know.”
“Then say yes, Hermione. Say yes and we’ll figure out the rest later.”
It came out like a plea, he didn’t care. He wasn’t above hitting his knees for Hermione Granger.
He’d done it before. In the library, hidden behind the restricted section, on the seventh floor when he finally told her what was happening, just for it to be too late. In front of the Dark Lord as he ripped through his mind looking for the girl who gave him hope, and when she defended him at his trial.
He didn’t mind looking up at her.
Draco went to say something—anything—he was a man who was desperate to yearn for her, but before he could she reached up and kissed him with everything she had, stealing his very breath away.
When she went to pull back he closed the distance quickly, his fingers brushing along her jaw and tangling in her hair as he kissed her again, pouring out everything he felt for her into it because sometimes no words were needed.