Dramione Drabbles

28. How Can I Convince You Not To?

A sharp grip sank into Hermione's arm, stopping her short. "Don't do it, Granger," heaved Pansy. She must have chased Hermione all the way to the fireplace. In stilettos. "Don't leave."

Hermione pried herself from Pansy's stabby claws. "He made his choice."

"Yeah. You."

"We're at his engagement party." Her voice cracked.

"You think he agreed to this obnoxious farce?" Pansy arched an ebony brow. "Narcissa blindsided us all."

A few minutes ago, Hermione had entered the Malfoy's Rose Garden to find a pedestalled portrait of Draco and Astoria at the entrance, posing like a pure-blood poster-couple. She'd been so shocked and hurt that she'd bolted.

"This was never going to work," she told Pansy sadly.

Whether Draco knew it or not, this was Narcissa issuing a her or us ultimatum. Draco loved his family, and a three-month fling with Hermione didn't merit sacrificing them. She had lost her parents young and wouldn't dream of hurting him in that way. Even if it broke her heart.

Pansy's lips pressed together. "Don't you see how happy you make him?"

"We're still in the honeymoon phase," she half-told herself. "He can't go a lifetime without his family."

"You're too rational for your own good. Be romantic for five seconds and open your bloody eyes!" Pansy snapped. "He won't lose his family. He has me and Theo and Blaise and he'll have you, Granger."

"You can't possibly believe that I mean more to him than his mother and father."

"Do you honestly think I'd succumb to this gods-awful conversation if I didn't? I don't even like you."

"Well, this is the perfect opportunity to get rid of me."

"But I don't have to like you," Pansy proceeded. "I just have to like you for him. And I do. You make him less serious. More like the Draco I used to know in school. Always having a laugh, playful again, a little mischievous."

Hermione's eyes filled with tears.

As Pansy listed all the ways Hermione had changed Draco, she considered all the ways Draco had changed her. Her nerves had virtually evaporated when public speaking, and she suspected it had everything to do with the way Draco vocally, physically, openly admired her. He made her feel beautiful and seen, and it made all the difference. Resulting in a fiercer version of herself. A Hermione 2.0, radiating with confidence.

But making Draco choose between her and his parents was graver than Pansy made it out to be. It was life changing. Lifestyle changing. There was no guarantee he could continue to depend on his family vaults. No guarantee he would even have a home after tonight if he chose Hermione. Eventually, he would realise she wasn't worth it. And that would hurt more.

"He's lucky to have you, Pansy. But I'm going home."

"How can I convince you not to?"

Hermione gasped at the sound of his voice, whirling around to find Draco standing behind her. For how long? Surely not the entire conversation?

Her stomach fluttered when their eyes met. It was unfair how beautiful he looked, half lit by the corridor sconce, silky hair drawn back and expression stormy with resolve. It took everything not to cross the room and kiss him. She was fiercely jealous of Astoria Greengrass and needed to confirm that she was still his first choice. That Draco would choose Hermione purely out of his own selfish desire.

The click of heels drew Hermione's attention back to Pansy, who gave her a meaningful look before disappearing around the corner.

Draco said, "Please, Hermione. I had no idea—"

"I know."

His face flashed with relief. "Please don't leave. Or better, let me come with you. Just promise we're still us."

She dabbed her cheek hastily. "It might be devastating now, but you'll understand why this can't work. You'll lose everything, Draco."

He stepped forward, clutching her arms and looking at her with blazing eyes. "This," he said, pressing his forehead to hers and lowering his voice to a whisper, "is everything."

There was fight in the way he kissed her—one arm tight around her waist, the other planted like tree roots in her curls. It was more than lust as their lips touched, more than sexual attraction as his tongue slipped between her teeth and coaxed—it was a plea.

In the back of Hermione's mind, Pansy's voice sniped, You're too rational for your own good. And she considered whether the icy bitch with a surprising heart was onto something. Love wasn't rational. It couldn't be alphabetized or stored in a filing cabinet. It was hardly containable. Love was like magic.

Hermione sank her face into Draco's chest, twisting her arms around his waist and inhaling the scent she recognised like her own skin.

The tension in Draco's body melted and he sighed softly.

"Let's go home," she said, mentally rearranging shelves and casting extendable charms to make room for him in her one-bedroom flat.

Draco's mouth brushed her ear, as if reading her mind, "I get the larger wardrobe, right?"

And Hermione delivered the final blow by replying, "There's only one wardrobe, love."

*

Pansy watched, relieved, as a cloud of Floo powder ferried her stupidly happy best mate away.

(872 words, prompt from tumblr, first written June 2024)