The Promise

CHAPTER 3

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Four years after Hogwarts.

The first rays of sunlight found their way through the closed curtains.

The soft rays felt warm against his cheek, and he sighed with content.

Kicking off the sheets, Draco sat on the lavish bed.

He ran long fingers through his hair and felt the silky strands slip through them.

Shielding a yawn with his backhand, he reached for his wand, stood up and pulled himself to his full height of six feet and two inches.

It took him a few seconds to gather his bearings.

Ah, Paris, France.

Hotel rooms were well and good, but nothing beat the comfort of your own home.

A sudden sadness washed over him, and he longed for the familiarity of his flat.

It was two weeks and three days since he was last in London.

His company was taking off, and it was more demanding than a wife or lover.

My love...

He thought of her the second he woke up; it was a ritual, and over the years, it had not wavered.

From separate countries, he wondered, what's going on in your beautiful mind, Hermione?

Tell me your thoughts, my love...

Memories...

Four years had passed since they last walked the halls of Hogwarts.

He went to stand by the wide window of his Deluxe Suite. True to its advertising, it boasted an unforgettable view of the Eiffel Tower.

They had planned to visit Paris after Graduation.

It seemed like another lifetime ago, but In every lifetime, his heart would belong to her.

A small whimpering sound distracted him. Astoria turned in her sleep and pulled a pillow close.

She was a good woman; they had been dating on and off for years, but Draco was careful not to make it exclusive.

Astoria was his financial advisor and occasionally a sex partner.

Draco took who he wished to bed, no strings attached.

They satisfied his sexual needs, but he only allowed Astoria to stay afterwards.

It would be unfair to give her hope.

Despite no promises being made on his part, Astoria did all she could to assert herself into his life and warned others that she would be his future wife.

He loved another.

He would always love another.

Everyone had grown up and gone on to do their own thing.