A Wonderful Fortuitous Love

9. A Little Payback

“I was going to tell you, I swear I was, but –”

“They finally let you repaint it in here!”

She whirled around, not sure that she had heard him right. “I’m sorry?”

“Remember when you first started living here, and the paint had been chipping? You said it looked ‘too tacky’ and almost didn’t move in.”

“I…” Thoroughly at a loss for words, Hermione stood next to Harry and poked her head through the door curiously. Her eyes darted over every detail of the tiny room, and considering it was just a small room to hold a downstairs toilet, there wasn’t much to look at. She knew that if he really was still in there they’d see him right away, but it was almost too amazing for her to believe – he wasn’t anywhere in sight.

“Why were you trying to hide a paint job?” Harry asked, now resting on the doorframe and watching her.

“Oh, well… it’s only recently been done and… I was afraid the paint was still wet.”

His mouth twitched. “If no one’s in there, where was the thudding coming from?”

“Oh, uh…” She looked back into the room, her gaze resting on the… open… window… above the toilet. Open? It wasn’t like that when she left Malfoy in here, was it? “I, uh, guess the neighbours must be having a party or moving some furniture about…”

What was going on? Had he jumped out of the window and onto the balcony? He wasn’t that athletic, was he? And even if he had, he wouldn’t be this nice. Hadn’t Malfoy wanted Harry to catch him? Or did he realise that not only would Hermione get in trouble, but he would as well? Was he saving his own neck?

“Something’s happened, hasn’t it?” said Harry, breaking her away from muddled thoughts. “You’re troubled.”

She pulled her wondering gaze from the window and met his bright green one. “Yes, but…” She hesitated. “I’ll talk about it with you another time, okay?”

He didn’t look pleased. “I can’t know now?”

“It’s late, I’m tired, and as much as I enjoy having you here Harry, I’ve got a lot on my mind. What do you say we meet up for coffee sometime during the week and I’ll – I’ll explain then?”

It took a moment, but eventually he nodded. Hermione felt relief flood through her. It had been a close call, and she knew that the next time Harry or someone else were to stop by unexpectedly, she wouldn’t get off as easily again. She had to tell him before it was too late.

The moment Harry was out of her flat; Hermione darted through the apartment and to the back door – the only place Malfoy could possibly be. The balcony outside had a spectacular view at night, the city lights in particular, but she wasn’t paying attention to that tonight. Determined to know where he had gone, she eagerly went around the corner, and for a second was momentarily dumbfounded.

Malfoy was perched onto the edge of the railing, sitting as though there weren’t twelve more floors below them and there was absolutely no chance of falling backwards to his death.

He regarded her with amusement. “Hey Granger, how’s Potter?"

“Get away from there!” She went over and grabbed his arm to pull him back onto solid ground, pretending not to notice when he cringed from her touch. “Have you no sense?”

He smirked, standing fully in front of her now, his eyes glimmering with the multicoloured lights around them, hair tousled from the summer’s breeze. “Worried about me?”

“No,” she said at once, “but you’re not sober, are you? You have no balance at the moment.”

He scoffed. “I’m a god, therefore, immortal. Therefore, making me untouchable and therefore, cannot possibly be killed.”