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The Unexpected Reunion

Summary:

Her relationship with Ron was falling apart, for years now. After so much time together one final argument was the breaking point.

Hermione went to a pub, and on that one night she saw someone she hadn't expected to see ever again in her life – Draco Malfoy, who appeared to be regular there.

The meetings were no longer accidental.

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Chapter 1: Prologue

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

2nd – 3rd of May, 2003

It had been whole five years since the battle of Hogwarts. Everything was different now. Almost everyone thought that it had got better but not the Golden Girl, for her nothing had changed, the only difference she found was that Voldemort was no more a treat to anyone.

A person could not simply forget over twenty years of history and she could not forget her whole experience at Hogwarts.

Ever since their fourth year Hermione had had a crush on Ron but she had never acted on it. There was Lavender, then a whole war which outcome depended on them. Finally, after destroying the Cup of Helga Hufflepuff in the Chamber of Secrets, he had kissed her. The timing wasn’t perfect at all but for what was important to her was the action itself.

After the war had successfully ended and everything started going back to normal, with small steps yet big differences, they had their chance, which they took with open arms.

Now it had been almost five entire years of them together. Everything was amazing, dare say flawless in the first three and a half years. With time passing they started to separate from each other.

Hermione and Ron stayed together refusing to acknowledge the obvious facts. They had fights but which couples didn’t have? Theirs on the other hand began to increase and happened more and more often, bigger that the previous one, for random, stupid things that weren’t of any matter important.

Every one of them ended with Ron sleeping on the couch or leaving their apartment and heading to the Burrow or his brother ‘s – George’s shop or him getting drunk in some random pub on Diagon Alley.

The other option was Hermione leaving and going to Ginny and Harry’s place, they always accepted her like the good friends they were, talked to her if she wanted to, sometimes they had one or two, maybe more drinks it depended on how she was feeling. They had always been there for her. Always.

Everytime she’d stepped out of the fireplace with tears in her eyes, came tipsy or beaming with anger.

One night everything got out of control, she snapped, she broke, she couldn’t comprehend his behavior - not anymore, he wasn’t the Ron she had known from school - he had changed but who hadn’t, even she wasn’t the same Hermione she was before. That’s what she told herself every fucking time, trying but failing to explain his outbursts.

She was just so tired of all this. He would get angry at everything. A man looked at her, he was fuming. She said something he didn’t particularly liked, again. She spoke against him same thing. The list went on and on.

That exact fight started out of nowhere and escalated faster than normal. It got more serious, even dangerous in some way. Their arguments were never quiet, they were heated but this one was different, he wasn’t in his right mind - due to no one knew what, he started acting unlike – uncharacteristically for him even if he was drunk, which he wasn’t, she knew he wasn’t they had been together the entire day.

He was trying to force himself upon her; he even tried to physically harm her. He was unsuccessful though, Hermione was neither stupid nor weak. She pushed him back and stunned him, he fell down to the floor – unconscious. She put her shoes on and made her way out of the flat.

She clutched her coat close to herself and walked down the dark streets. Barely any people to be seen.

It was late – probably around two in the morning. She apparated on the main street of Diagon Alley and went in some pub at the corner.

It was quiet there, the dim lights provided some lightning. She stood at the bar, the bartender was a middle age, nice looking man, and ordered a glass of Firewhiskey, she needed something strong tonight.

There was someone whom she couldn’t indentify, even though he looked familiar, in the back of the pub and maybe it was better that she couldn’t see him clearly right now. But one thing was clear – the signature white-blonde hair which could only belong to a Malfoy.

She was angry and while drinking, her usual wit was not with her. She could do something immature, for example yell at him, maybe even hit him, take her anger at someone who didn’t deserve it – not that he didn’t after all of his deeds, who knew and she hated this man from the bottom of her soul.

And he – he was Draco fucking Malfoy, a former Death Eater, the boy who tried and failed at killing Albus Dumbledore.

He had been in Azkaban for a year and eight months after the war ended. His sentence had not been as long as the ones of many other followers of Voldemort but his crimes weren’t many; he had not used an Unforgivable on anyone. With him refusing to identify Harry Potter that day in Malfoy Manor contributed with the amount of his stay in the magical prison. 

What was wrong with faith? How did he ended up with her in the same pub, mind him it was two in the fucking morning. And she was alone. He was there so close to her but not close enough, sitting in a dark corner, drinking peacefully,  staring at her from afar and admiring how beautiful she had become – she always had been but apparently Draco was blind as a young boy.

He was here almost every night, sometime with his former classmates - Theo, Blaise, Pansy and Daphne. This late evening he was alone, and so was she.

He was surprised by that fact. He wondered where did she work, based on his assumptions he thought either as a professor at Hogwarts or something in the Ministry related with magical creatures – this based on all the rambling about SPEW.

He wasn’t supposed to think of her in any way she was just a witch – just like any other, no, she was more, she was special. Not because of her part in the war. Not because of her grades back then in school. Not because she was a muggle-born. Not because of how she looks. Not for the fact that she was “The Brightest Witch of her age” or “The Golden Girl”. Simply just because this was her – she was always natural, herself – always herself, she never cared about what everyone called her, what he called her – that stupid, hideous name “mudblood” –  she was strong and even if she was hurt she never showed vulnerability. He thought of her with admiration.

An hour and a half had passed in deep thoughts and drinking. He saw her paying the bartender and leaving. He finished his drink and did the same.

The man hated staying in the manor; it reminded him of too many terrible memories; about everyone who had ever been tortured there, kept a prisoner in the undergrounds of it, even of how people were killed there – far too many people, innocent people. Even after its renovation he couldn’t stand it. This was the reason why he didn’t live at the manor anymore.

Draco was staying in a muggle hotel in London for nearly four months. He preferred the muggle world at this moment because the Wizarding one wasn’t so welcoming, even though the war was long behind their backs.

By hearing his name or seeing his light-blond hair people sneered at him. Here nobody knew who he was and what he had done; he was just a normal, wealthy person with no family and no other place to go.

Draco never stayed at one place for long.

Hermione didn’t want to go back to her apartment, neither to see her boyfriend after the fight. She also didn’t want to bother Ginny and Harry or anyone at all. She had enough money to go and stay in a hotel in muggle London, for at least one night. She apparated there and walked to the first hotel she saw. She got a room for one, locked herself in it and fell asleep, under the covers of a rather cozy bed.

Meanwhile Ron was still laying unconscious in the living room, the stunning spell had been a strong one.

Another hour passed, he started waking up. The events from the evening were playing behind his eyelids. He didn’t know why the bloody hell he acted like this. The argument itself began innocently like every other time; this time was for some visit to her parents who were still in Australia. It escalated to more serious subject – their relationship. He was never good at talking on this subject, he never liked it, this was the reason why he snapped but nothing in particular explained everything else he did.

Notes:

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