Chapter 11: It's Her (Draco)
Girls would be the death of him. Not a curse, not a herd of angry buffalo, not even Voldemort. His autopsy report would read: Death by Women.
Draco hadn't even spoken to Pansy. Her level of crazy had far extended past any normal acceptable crazy limitations. He was about to nominate her for the Gold Level of Nutters award presented by Lord Psychomort himself. In Draco's mind there was only one woman crazier than Pansy Parkinson. He shuddered.
Hermione Granger.
That know-it-all had it out for him.
The only thing that kept him from calling St. Mungo's and having himself committed was the last owl post he had received from Vinewood. She had changed her mind. She wanted to meet him.
No matter what else was going on, this one single though, this one single girl could keep him sane in the mix of all of it. He just had to wait until the holidays. Then he would meet her in muggle London in the park that's decorated in twinkle lights and plays Christmas music. It's just the kind of thing he'd never admit to liking. The kind of thing Pansy would hate. Even though it meant having to return to the Malfoy Manor Creepfest, it also meant meeting Vinewood for the first time. He'd take three weeks of sharing a bathroom with Voldemort for that.
The rest of the term went by quickly. Draco was happy to be home and he was about to meet Vinewood. He had convinced Blaise to come with him for support. Draco was about to meet the girl of his dreams and he wanted to make sure he didn't totally screw it up. He did not want to spend the rest of his life with a son named Crispin.
Draco dressed in nice jeans, shiny black shoes, a black flannel shirt and a black wool coat. He tied a silver scarf around his neck. That was how Vinewood was to know him. She would be wearing a red coat and sitting under the tree by the fountain.
Draco told his parents he was going off with Blaise. They agreed to that. One of the Death Eaters had stolen a Ping-Pong table from one of the muggle houses they raided. You-Know-Who was challenging everyone. So they were all distracted. He was actually pretty good. If he wasn't an evil sociopath bent on destroying the muggles and muggle-borns he might have an promising future in professional table tennis.
Blaise met Draco just outside the manor grounds and they apparated to the Leaky Cauldron. They weren't licensed but they knew how. That was when Draco started freaking out.
“Breathe, Draco,” said Blaise. “She's just a girl.”
“She's not just a girl. Not to sound like a Hufflepuff, but I'm pretty sure she's the one.”
“Draco?”
“Yeah?”
“That made you sound like a Hufflepuff.”
“All I'm saying is that this girl is incredible. She is smart, funny, generous and she understands me. This girl is the most wonderful person I've ever spoken too. I'd have to be crazy to let her go.”
Blaise just shook his head and slapped Draco on the back. “Come on then.”
The park was beautifully lit with the muggle twinkle lights. Snow had just started falling from the chilly sky and there was a hint of peppermint in the air. Up ahead, Draco could see the fountain. And the bench. And a girl in red coat. His heart pounded.
“I – I can't do this.” Draco tried to run but Blaise stopped him.
“You came all this way... I heard what you said about her. You just have to meet her. Okay?”
Nervousness flooded through him but Blaise was right. Together, they walked down the cobblestone path toward the fountain and the girl. She started to turn her head and Draco grabbed Blaise and ducked behind a tree.
“What are you doing?” hissed Blaise.
“I need to see her first.” Draco peered around the tree, being careful to not let Vinewood see him. She turned and her face came into view.
His heart stopped.
It was her. Hermione Granger.
“Bloody!” Blaise shouted. Draco quickly covered his mouth.
“That girl is Potter's mudblood. Your girl is Potter's mudblood.”
Draco just wanted to crawl into a hole and die. That wonderful, perfect, sweet Vinewood... how could she be? Oh but it was... everything was ruined.
“What are you going to do?”
“Leave,” said Draco.
“But she's the one. She wrote you all those letters.”
Blaise's words broke Draco's heart. Hermione had written all those letters. Those beautiful words to him came from her.
“It doesn't matter. Let's just go.”
Draco took one look at Hermione, at Vinewood, her wind-chilled face waiting for someone who would never come.