Only You (Hiatus)

Seven

Kelly’s was bustling with people, and Hermione found herself squeezing between groups to make it to the bar. Surprisingly, they were all there to listen to Draco play.

“What can I getcha, hun?” a young woman, about Hermione’s age, asked from behind the bar.
“Oh, um… what would you recommend for someone who is about to have a very awkward conversation?” Hermione half-joked.
“Personally, I’d go for one of our cocktails. My personal favourite is Kiss o’ the Sea, a specialty here at Kelly’s,” the woman replied with a smile. “It’s strong, though, so if you want something lighter, I’d go for a Joker.”
Hermione smiled and nodded. “I’ll take a Kiss o’ the Sea.”
The woman nodded and began measuring out several different spirits. Hermione watched, fascinated, and didn’t notice anyone else around her.

“Hey, Nikki, can ya get me a water when you’re finished there?”

The voice snapped her back to the reason she was there.
Looking to her left, Hermione saw Draco at the far end of the bar. He hadn’t noticed her yet, and she couldn’t help but observe how relaxed he looked. Nikki handed him a large glass of water, and he smiled.
It was enchanting, and completely off-putting, all at once.

As Nikki turned back to Hermione’s drink, Draco spotted her. His smile dropped. He sighed, rolled his eyes, and nodded toward the back corner, a clear signal for her to meet him there.
“Here ya go. That’ll be €5,” Nikki said, setting down a tall glass of blue liquid with purple and green swirls drifting through it.

Hermione paid, took a rather large sip, and blinked in surprise at how smooth and delicious it was before following Draco toward the back corner. Thankfully, people parted easily when they saw the drink in her hand.

“Looks like you’re not leaving, then?” Draco said when she reached him, his expression unimpressed.
“No, I’m not leaving. So it seems we have to figure out a way to make this work. I haven’t told anyone anything about you, Malfoy,” she said plainly. “Síofra is determined to make us friends at the very least. She quizzed me the second you left—”
“What did you tell her?” Draco interrupted, a near-desperate edge in his voice that he tried to mask as he lifted his glass.
“I just said we didn’t get along. Then she figured out I was the girl who rivalled you in grades, so I let her think that was why we were so at odds.”
Draco nodded. “Good. That should work.”
“No. She just said school is over, so there’s no more competition.”
Draco ran an impatient hand through his hair and scoffed. “School is never over for a bookworm like you.”

Hermione was surprised by the lack of venom in the comment. It was almost playful, and it made her smile faintly. She hid it behind her glass.
“So you say, Ferret.”

Draco actually chuckled. It was brief, but it was there. If he hadn’t caught himself, it might have turned into a proper laugh.
“Whatever,” he said. “Look, I’ve got to get back to work, and it seems we at least have to play nice if we both want to live in this town, Granger.”

He hesitated, clearly struggling, before offering his hand.
“Truce?”
Hermione blinked. Instinctively, she wanted to refuse, but he was right. Slowly, she nodded and shook his hand.
“Truce.”

Draco nodded and turned away, heading back to the stage to start the first song of his set without looking back.

Síofra appeared while Draco was midway through his third song.
“Hermione! Sorry I’m late. My husband surprised me with a lovely dinner and my favourite wine, and we got talking. I completely lost track of time.”
“Síofra, it’s fine, honestly,” Hermione said warmly. “That sounds like a lovely evening. What are you doing here?”
Síofra chuckled. “Listening to a friend play while hanging out with a new friend. That’s what.”

Hermione smiled and ordered two drinks from Nikki, who turned out to be an excellent mixologist. Hermione had no doubt Nikki would have had no trouble brewing potions, even as a Muggle.

As the night went on, Hermione and Síofra grew closer. Draco even joined them for a drink during his break, though it seemed less voluntary and more the result of Síofra’s insistence.
He spoke mostly to Síofra, avoiding Hermione as best he could. Still, with enough prompting, Hermione found herself admitting that she painted and even promising to show some of her pieces in the shop. In turn, she learned that Draco wrote his songs down by the beach, a fact he seemed irritated by her knowing, though Síofra brushed off his denial.

A little after midnight, Hermione made her way back to the hotel. The town was quiet but peaceful.
She felt content, a feeling she hadn’t expected to find so soon. Strangely, Malfoy’s presence hadn’t ruined the evening. He’d been civil. They both had. It was easier than she’d anticipated. Easier, she realised, than her early days with Harry and Ron. Harry had always felt comfortable. Ron hadn’t.
Maybe she should have paid more attention to that feeling back then.
Shrugging, she let herself into the hotel with the guest key and headed up to her room.

Once inside, she locked the door and cast a silencing charm so she wouldn’t disturb anyone.
The only time she still used magic.