Title: Turn Around
Rating: PG-ish
Warning: smoking!Draco
Word Count: 597
Written For: dyno_drabbles
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of JK Rowling. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Author's Note: This drabble was the winner and the mod's choice.

ooo

Draco waits against a tree in the park, a Muggle cigarette hanging from his lips. Oddly patient tonight, he stands still. This time is different, he knows and it makes him jittery with anticipation. Inhaling deeply, nicotine and smoke char his lungs until he feels…calm.

Hermione emerges from the fog, skin glowing pink from the cold. When she stops, there are exactly two steps of space between them.

“Hi,” she says softly, an awkward tinge to her inflection.

His thoughts are broken as he meets her gaze.

“Hey.” He nods. A silence hangs tensely in the air. He opens his mouth, pauses, then, “It’s cold.”

“You’ve always hated the cold.” She smiles, and he knows it’s contrived. “So how've you been?”

“Fine...working, nothing new. But I know you didn’t ask me here to talk about work, did you?”

“I thought we could talk,” she falters.

There is more to this than what she admits, but he refuses to push it, or her. He doesn’t have it in him anymore, to pry for unwanted admissions. He’s done it once with her and he refuses to do it again.

"And what, the café was too well-lit for you?" he retorts, wincing when her awkward chuckle greets his ears.

The café is where they usually meet, every Monday and Thursday after work. It's a little hole-in-the-wall wizarding place that hasn’t been touched by—well, business owners like him. It is the only place they know where they can be themselves, and so when one of them writes, it is on the understanding that they'll meet there.

But tonight is different.

The cigarette, now burned to its filter, falls to his feet. He crushes it with barely masked venom. As he lights another one, Hermione advances towards him. He sidesteps her and her features contort, obviously hurt by his actions, yet he feigns ignorance. She has no idea about hurt.

She is now precisely one step away from him, and Draco is aware of his laboured breathing. “What do you want?”

Hermione stumbles on her words. “I—just wanted to talk.”

“We don’t have anything left to talk about. I told you I wanted to be with you, and you said you didn’t feel the same way. I get it. The end.”

“That’s not the end.” And her next words come out through gritted teeth, “I lied.”

“Oh come on,” is the only thing Draco can articulate because his mind is running a hundred miles a minute. He starts to walk away because he doesn’t have the time or the patience for her games.

“Hey!” she calls out.

And as much as his head wills him to keep going, something halts his movement.

"What?" he snaps, keeping his back to her. He knows that to face her would cross the line of the merely difficult and pass over into the unbearable.

He can hear the desperation in her voice and it makes him frown. “I was scared, okay? I wasn’t expecting anything and you just came out of nowhere with your feelings! I didn’t expect it, and I didn’t expect to develop feelings for you, either. Yes, I lied to you, but only because I didn’t want to mess it up by getting serious. You—I was scared, Draco. I felt lost!”

“You weren’t the only one, Hermione, but at least I was willing to give it a chance.”

“I am willing! Now, at least.”

Draco’s shoulders stiffen. “Why now?”

“Because I—we’re lost in this,” she pauses and murmurs her next words, “But it feels like home.”

He turns around.