The Third Time

Hermione stormed furiously out of the apartment, most of her hoping that Draco had enough common sense to not follow her for a good while. She headed straight to the closest bar- alcohol, she hoped, would be her friend tonight- and slipped her jacket off her shoulders as she entered the warm atmosphere.

"What do you fancy, miss?" The bartender's eyes lingered on her a little too long, and she gave him a cold glare.

"Shots, vodka." He raised a brow but didn't question her- she'd obviously had a bad day- and returned with the bottle and shot glass in hand, shoving them in her direction as he turned to serve another patron.

Hermione, despite her low tolerance, managed to finish nearly half the bottle before the bar closed, stumbling outside and leaning against the wall in an attempt to force some clarity into her foggy mind, heading in the direction of the apartment and really hoping that Draco was asleep so that she could wait until tomorrow, when she was sober, to talk to him. Many of the other customers at the bar were also making their way home, but Hermione paid them no mind, not until one of them made their way to her as she staggered against the walls of various buildings to keep her upright and a little more alert.

"Where ya going?" He was uncomfortably close at this point, his breath reeking of alcohol- although Hermione supposed she smelled of vodka at this point- and she said pointedly,

"Home, where else?"

"I could take ya to my place, that's where else." He leered at her, eyes fixated on the exposed skin and causing Hermione to shiver, pulling her coat back on.

"No, thanks." She tried to back away but the man followed, cornering her between a wall and a window. Hermione's instincts kicked in, and she remembered Clause Seven of the International Statute of Secrecy:

It might not be life- threatening, but she was pretty sure she would be able to make a case if it ever came to court.

She pulled out her wand, and the man snickered at the piece of wood- before she slashed it downward and he fell backwards against the window in a flash of red light, glass shattering and glinting on the ground. Shaking, she Obliviated him, when a pair of familiar arms wrapped around her shaking form and she collapsed, blackness engulfing her vision.

***

Draco ran his fingers through his hair, a little of his frustration directed at Hermione but mostly at himself. How could he have not understood? The way that she felt abandoned, shaken up. Unable to rely on anyone else, all semblance of trust broken once by one Weasley and shattered by another one.

He sank back onto the sofa, his energy suddenly drained and he a glass of water to try and calm his nerves.

The words echoed in his head, ringing and refusing to desist when a sudden feeling of horror tugged at him. Where would Hermione go to 'diffuse?'

Probably where most people would go. To get flat-out .

.

***

The night may have been late but Draco's eyes flashed with alertness as he pulled his jacket on, striding out the door. He didn't have to go far to see a bushy-haired brunette, trapped, a little more than a block away.

.

He took off at a run, ignoring the shouts that came from apartments above as they watched, adrenaline drowning out everything else. He had only made it about halfway to her, however, when a flash of red light disabled her attacker.

He only reached here just in time to catch her.

The situation was terrifyingly familiar at this point, Draco thought as he carried the prone figure in his arms into the bedroom. He laid her down, Transfiguring her rumpled dress and changing himself before he slid into the sheets next to her.

***

Hermione awoke with a pounding headache and a newfound annoyance for the sun, rays beginning to filter through the cracks in the curtains. It may not have bothered someone who had been sober the night before, but to her, the room may as well be on fucking fire.

"Here." A glass was shoved into her hand and she took it without hesitation, the solution snapping her awake and the headache receded, the pain lessening immediately.

"Thanks."

She tore the sheets unceremoniously off of her body and rolled out of bed, moving to the washroom to wash her face- boy, did she look a treat- and to comb her hair out of its rat's nest to something more manageable, considering it was a Tuesday and she hadn't technically taken today off (even though her boss was her boyfriend).

"Hey." Draco stood, lounging easily on the doorframe as Hermione set the hairbrush down, knots finally undone. She swung herself up onto the counter, facing him.

"Mhmm?"

Draco ran his hands through his silvery-blonde locks, a rather sheepish expression on his face.

"I, ah, want to apologize for yesterday. I shouldn't have reacted the way that I did to what you told me."

"Is Draco Malfoy Her smile was beaming but her eyes were still a little desolate, barren of happiness, and Draco resolved to fix it.

"Don't get used to it." He grinned as she shoved him in the shoulder, following her out of the bathroom and into the kitchen while she meandered around, searching for coffee and breakfast.

"D'you want me to run down to the cafe and grab something? I know the chocolate croissants are your favorite."

"Nah, it's okay, I'll grab some yogurt. And it's Tuesday today, you realize that, I hope, which means we have to return to work."

Draco mumbled something unintelligible into her slightly unruly curls, his arms sliding around her waist, and Hermione smiled a little, a true smile, as she stood at the counter and simply watched the horizon as the sun shone down upon it.

***

Draco swore quietly in frustration, the third time that day that he'd been distracted because of Hermione. She'd been distant all day, distant in the sense that her eyes still didn't light up the way they used to when she laughed, the way she moved, the way she spoke, the way she Hermione. He gave up the fight, and it was at the forefront of his mind as he wrapped up the paperwork, sent all the emails, and went home with Hermione. She was going to be officially his business partner in just a few days, the ages-old contract regarding the Malfoy business stating that if a proposal was going to be done within six months, the person would be able to become the partner of the legitimate Malfoy heir.

The thought was still there as he cooked dinner, Hermione reading, still there throughout their dull dinner conversation- nothing like their usual banter. Still there as he showered, brushed his teeth, and waited for Hermione to finish her book and sleep. He wondered what she was reading this time. He remembered something about a dystopia.

He was nearly asleep by the time she slipped quietly between the sheets, her presence jolting him awake as she stayed on the other side of the bed, too far for his liking. He reached out a pale arm, wincing as he caught sight of the mark on it, and grasped her waist, pulling her closer to him.

"I meant what I said this morning, Hermione." He propped himself up on his elbow.

"Which part?" Despite the darkness, he knew there was a question in her eyes, the familiar drive to get answers.

"All of it. I should've understood. I didn't get it when I should've known what kind of pain you were talking about. I didn't get it until you gave me that choice, and I know what you mean, mourning the loss of someone even though it wouldn't make sense to people who don't know you or understand." He flinched at the invisible presence of the man he'd done it for, and Hermione felt it. "I wish I could've grasped it faster, so that you didn't feel the way you did."

"Draco.. I'm not going to say what you said justifies it. But I do understand the way you reacted." She reached up and traced a line from his temple to his jaw, letting her hand drop.

"The person you mourned was your father, wasn't it?" Draco's jaw clenched at the thought of him, the person who was sitting in Azkaban for a list of crimes to long to count. The man who'd molded his personality for a darker purpose.

But still the man who'd been his father.

"Yes." He turned away viciously, a sharp pain in his chest as he unwillingly dredged up memories from the past- his father, long blonde hair in its ponytail, swinging as he kissed his wife good-bye. His father, presenting him with a broomstick in his second year, the best on the market. His father, storming through the Ministry in his third, after the hippogriff incident. His eyes widening at the news that the Dark Lord had returned from what they had all thought was certain death. The way he carried himself after the battle inside the most secretive departments of the Ministry. The terror that had surged in his eyes when Draco had been given his mission, the way the life had slowly seeped out of his father, draining into a cause that crumbled to pieces, the finale of the Dark Lord's reign of terror coming to a definitive end at the Battle of Hogwarts, the regime annihilated, an event from which the Death Eaters would never recover.

Hermione sucked in a breath before grabbing his shoulders and turning him over, forcing him to look at her.

"Listen. It's not your fault that your father is the person that he is. No matter what decisions in life he made he's still your dad. The one that gave you all you ever wanted, the one that loved your mum, the one that loved you and thought he was protecting you. No matter what. And fear changes people, Draco, it makes them do unspeakable things. So don't blame yourself for what your dad did, and don't blame him for the person he became."

Draco grinned weakly before breaking his gaze with her. "How're you so good at this?"

Hermione smiled back, then glanced to where his eyes had strayed and narrowed her own. "I know exactly what you can do with that if you want. I'll take you on the weekend, how's that sound?"

"Depends on what it is."

"You'll like it, I think."

Hermione smiled in the darkness.

***

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