Slow Grenade

Chapter Fifty-Six

The rest of the day went quickly, and it felt like no time had passed before Hermione walked into the Three Broomsticks with Ginny that evening. It wasn't particularly busy, but the flickering orange hearth and floating candles illuminated the room to create a warm and homely atmosphere.

Although they couldn't see any teachers present, the two girls chose to sit in a corner towards the back of the pub. This location had the added benefit of Hermione being able to sneak them Firewhiskey without too much difficulty.

Setting down the drinks, Ginny's eyes widened slightly. "Are we expecting more people?" she teased.

"It's energy saving," Hermione glowered as she downed the first glass in one gulp, wincing slightly as her throat burned. "We won't need to get out of our seats as much."

Ginny nudged her. "Come on then, what's going on?"

Looking down at the table, she sighed. "You promise not to hate me?"

The redhead rolled her eyes and gestured for Hermione to continue.

"Well, you know Draco Malfoy?"

"Yes, Hermione, I know Draco Malfoy."

"Good, yes," she said, nodding as though this might not have been the case. "So, you see," there was another pause as she started on her second drink, "I know him too. Well. I know him well."

"You know him well," Ginny repeated. "How... well?"

"Very?"

"Hermione Jean Granger!" her friend shrieked. "Tell me everything."

And so, she did. Hermione told Ginny a story of friendship and falling out, love and hurt, first times and possibly last times. Whilst it helped that she had already shared everything with Harry, there were moments when her heart still clenched painfully at the memories.

When she had finished, a pensive silence fell and Ginny stared at her in disbelief. "Shit," she said finally. "I think we need another drink."

Grateful for the reprieve, Hermione leapt to her feet, stumbling only slightly. "That is, by far, the wisest thing I've ever heard you say, Gin."

She took some deep breaths at the bar, trying to clear her mind and refocus back on the present.

"I just can't believe you've been friends with the ferret for eight years and dated him for three," Ginny said, shaking her head, as Hermione sat back down.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you before, you know. I wanted to."

"Does Ron know?"

Hermione's cheeks took on a slight pink tinge as she fiddled with the hem of her robe. "No, only you and Harry."

"I think that's for the best," Ginny said thoughtfully. "For now, at least."

They continued talking and drinking, enjoying each other's company, and didn't notice the pub become gradually quieter. Eventually, Madam Rosmerta herded them out the front door.

Throwing robes over their shoulders, Hermione and Ginny began the walk back to Hogwarts. Linking arms for warmth, they braced themselves against the biting cold, every breath showing itself as a plume of white steam.

"I feel guilty," Hermione admitted at one point, the alcohol thrumming through her veins helped ease the pain of honesty. "I should have gone to his trial, been there for him. Every time I look at him it reminds me that I spent so long being angry, I never stopped to think about what he might be going through."

"Don't forget, he still did some shitty things, Hermione."

"I know he – "

"Unceremoniously left you in the library... naked!" Ginny snorted, shrilling the last word a little too loudly.

Unsure why she found such a devastating event suddenly hilarious, Hermione burst into peal of laughter.

Ginny gasped for breath. "Imagine if old Pince had found you: 'just whom have you let Slyther-IN, Miss Granger? Only books may be checked out here, not students!"

"Oh Godric," Hermione hiccupped, tears streaming down her face. She couldn't remember the last time she felt this light, happy she thought, as though everything was going to be okay.

She crept as quietly as she could back into the eighth year common room and slowly pushed open her bedroom door. Although the cold walk had helped sober her up, she wasn't as vigilant as usual and therefore missed the other presence in the room.

"Granger?"

Hermione startled.

"I'm sorry," Draco said groggily from an armchair by the window. "I just didn't want you to have to sleep alone again."

She grumbled something under her breath about locking charms and privacy, but gestured him towards her bed. Having been worried about what her next nightmare might entail, she was secretly relieved that he had come.

"Theo popped over by the way," Draco said conversationally as he settled next to her. "I asked if I could take a message for you, but he declined. I don't think he'll be stopping by again any time soon."

"What did you – "

He interrupted, "In more important news, where have you been?"

"Ginny and I went to the Three Broomsticks."

"I thought I could smell Firewhiskey," Draco smirked. "Drinking on a school night, Granger, what has gotten into you?"

She ignored the comment and, frowning at one of his hands that lay between them, brushed her finger across the ring she had given him. "Have you worn this the whole time?"

"No," he said, shifting closer to her. "After I... after I left Hogwarts, I took it off because I couldn't bear to feel it or see any messages after you read my letter and then – "

She looked at him sharply and interrupted, "What letter?"

"The one I left for you in the library?"

"I didn't see any letter, Draco."

"What?" he spluttered. "So you thought I just left, without a word?"

She nodded.

"Fuck."

The soft patter of rain against the window drew both of their attention away for a moment. Hermione turned over so she could look out at the blanket of stars. She rarely closed her curtains these days, it made her feel suffocated and anxious.

Draco pulled her closer to him and wrapped an arm around her waist.

"Where do we go from here?" she sighed eventually. "What do you want?"

"You," he murmured. "I want you to be mine again."

Hermione thought back to her conversation with Ginny. "I – I can't Draco," she hesitated, feeling him tense behind her. "I can't go back to sneaking around and hiding things from people I care about."

His response came almost immediately, "That's fine, we won't."

"You don't mean that," she told him. "You're not thinking about the implications."

"I do, and I have. You're the one who'll face the implications, not me."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, frowning.

Draco gave a hollow laugh, waving his hands in a semi-circle. "I can see the headline now: 'Gryffindor's Golden Girl Disgraced as She Sullies Herself with Death Eater."

His words hung heavily on her and it took a few moments before she could reply, "You know that doesn't bother me. If anyone thinks that, it's their problem not ours." Hermione felt his grip on her tighten. "I'm more concerned about how your parents would react."

"I'll sort it."

It was late and her eyes were starting to feel heavy. "How can I trust you, after all the lies you've told?"

Draco kissed her softly and said quietly, "I'll never lie to you again."