So, I've decided to start posting this new story I've been working on. Each chapter will be a combination of Hermione and Draco's past and present. Let me know what you think!
Oh, and the obligatory "I own nothing" goes right here.
Hermione Granger stared down into crib, watching her eight month old son sleep. Her hand smoothed down his fine blonde hair. His eyelids fluttered over eyes she knew were chocolate brown, like her own. His chest rose and fell with each even breath he took. In her eyes, he was perfect.
Sighing, Hermione left the room. The floo activated just as she reached the living room of her flat. Out stepped Draco Malfoy looking exhausted after a long day of work. Wordlessly, he greeted her with a kiss on the lips. Stepping back, he collapsed onto the sofa and sighed, closing his eyes.
"Did he go down okay?" Draco asked, stretching out his legs in front of him. His eyes opened momentarily to catch her nod. "At the Weasleys' today?" Again, she silently answered with a nod.
"You look tired," Hermione observed. "Why didn't you just go home instead of coming here?"
"I wanted to see my son," he answered, hating that they had this conversation every time he came over.
Leaning against the archway, Hermione groaned. "Liam's asleep. You wake him up now, and I'm the one who'll be up all night trying to get him back down."
"Then I'll stay. Go to bed," he suggested, glowering at her. Getting to his feet, for he knew this was the part in the argument when she walked away, he crossed the room and stood before her. His hands gently held her upper arms, keeping her from leaving. "I can handle it."
"Fine," she resigned. Pulling out of his grasp, she turned and went to her bedroom. The nursery was just next door, and she could faintly hear the cooing sounds Draco made. As she prepared for bed, thoughts of the past floated through her mind.
Hermione sat in a dank, crowded pub nursing her third firewhiskey of the evening. She was recently, as of two hours prior, single and slowly on her way to being completely pissed. After a four year relationship, she and Ron Weasley broke up with no warning. There had been no indiscretions on either of their part, nor had there been growing tension that would have alerted her to the split. Ron had merely told her that he felt they were better as friends, and after four years he didn't see their relationship progressing.
Ron wanted out; Hermione wanted an engagement ring. In the end, it was Ron who got his way.
And so, the longer she sat on that stool, she less she felt. The firewhiskey coursed through her, numbing inside and out. Breathing a soft sigh, Hermione was content with the glass in front of her and the noise around her.
"Come here often?"
Hermione was not sure she heard right, and so turned to her left to see a tall, lean blonde taking the stool beside her. Instantly, she recognized him - Draco Malfoy.
"Sod off, Malfoy," she mumbled, her words slurring as she took another sip. She frowned; the glass was empty.
Draco signalled Tom, the barkeep, and ordered another round. "It's on me," he stated when she reached for her coin purse.
Glad only that she was getting another drink, she thanked him. They waited silently for their drinks, and when they arrived, clinked glasses.
"Here's to...asshole exes," Hermione toasted. She took a long sip of the heady alcohol and closed her eyes.
"Break up with the weasel, did you?" Draco asked, a hint of mirth in his aristocratic voice. Hermione nodded. "Can't say I'm surprised," he continued when she shot him a wide eyed look.
"Why?" she asked quietly, her voice just above a whisper.
Draco leaned in closer. "You're too smart for him," he replied. "I was sure you would have seen that years ago. Well, better late than never, I always say."
"You always say that?" Hermione remarked, quirking an eyebrow.
He returned the look, letting his characteristic smirk settle upon his lips. "Well, when it seems appropriate," he amended. Seeming to accept his answer, he watched as Hermione went back to her drinking, consuming the beverage in one, quick sip. "Please tell me you're not planning to Apparate home."
The glass settled down on the bar top with a loud clang. "I have nowhere to go," she realized. The horror that struck was delayed. How had she not thought of a place to sleep for the night before she decided to get good and drunk? She signalled to Tom, begging for a room, but none were available.
"I have a room here. It's yours if you want it," he offered, draining the last of his drink. "I guess I could just go home." He ordered another drink for the both of them and sighed.
"Didn't you get married?" she asked, her panic mollified by his offer of the room.
Draco shook his head derisively. "I was supposed to, but I didn't go through with it," he replied, offering her nothing more. But Hermione pressed on, her need for information getting the better of her even in her recent state. "We didn't love each other. It was arranged by our parents years ago without either one of us knowing about it."
Hermione snorted over her drink. "I wouldn't take you for someone who wants to marry for love," she commented, finding it hard to look away from her former childhood nemesis.
He shrugged his shoulders, taking another sip for courage. "Haven't had a lot of love in my life," he muttered. "Perhaps I just wanted to try something new."
Without realizing she'd done it, Hermione rested a comforting hand over his own. Her thumb traced soft lines over the skin. No words were exchanged, but the simple gesture told him she understood.
"I don't think I was ever truly in love with Ron," she told him. "He said one nice thing about house elves, and the next thing I knew, I just had to kiss him. It was," she sighed heavily," expected of us to be together after that. I remember waking up one morning hoping that would be the day that I would love him. It never came though."
Looking up from where their hands met to her eyes, he smirked. "So, if I say something nice about house elves, you're going to kiss me?"
Her hand pulled back, and for a moment Draco feared she was going to slap him. But she merely let her hands fall to her lap and averted her gaze. "Do you...do you want me to?" she asked, uncertainty mumbling her words.
He leaned forward, their knees brushing, and cupped her cheek. Draco waited until she looked at him once more before closing his eyes. Their lips met, a soft caress, before he pulled back expectantly.
"You didn't say anything nice about the elves," she reminded him.
Breathing a sigh of relief that her wand was not trained on him, he allowed his smirk to soften into a genuine smile. "I always really liked Dobby," he murmured. Before he could say anything more, Hermione kissed him, deepening the kiss before he could protest.
"Let's go to your room," she suggested, breathing heavily. They finished their drinks, Draco slapped a few coins onto the bar, and then they made their way upstairs.