A Wonderful Fortuitous Love

51. Apologises

"It’s a funny thing coming home. Nothing changes. Everything looks the same, feels the same, even smells the same. You realize what’s changed is you."

- F. Scott Fitzgerald

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Hermione was woken by blinding rays of sunlight shining directly over her eyes. She squinted and blinked against it. Could it really be morning already? Wasn’t it only a few hours ago she’d fallen asleep and – wait. Her blinds were open? Why hadn’t she closed them last night? Hermione opened her eyes and instantly regretted it; the morning light streaming through the window felt as though she were looking straight into the sun, and her eyes burned and watered in response. She shut them quickly with a pained groan, rolled onto her stomach and then buried her face under the pillow. That was when the headache hit. Using her fingertips, she tried messaging the throbbing around her temples to no prevail.

Dear god, this was awful. Was she coming down with the flu? 

Hermione lifted her head and turned it to face the opposite wall from the window, blinking slowly to allow herself to adjust to the light. It still hurt, and her eyes were still watering, but she could deal, and gingerly she sat up.

She reached for her wand on the bedside table and used it to flick the blinds down. The room fell into blissful darkness, and only then she let her eyes rove around her bedroom. Everything seemed to be normal, but… but she had this feeling that something was amiss, and as she continued to think, it dawned on her that she could not remember anything from the previous night.

Oh no. She had a hangover?

Hermione impatiently pushed back her bushy hair as she sat straighter, delving deeper and deeper into her mind, searching for something around the room that’ll help her remember…

And then she saw it.

On the right side of her bed, the sheets were rumbled and the pillow had a dent in it, and with in mind that she did not sleep on that side of the bed ever, it therefore indicated that… that… she hadn’t slept alone. 

Upon realising this, the memories of last night crashed over her. Hermione’s hand flew to cover the gasp that escaped her, her eyes wide and cheeks flushing.

No, no, no, no, no!

She was so mortified that for a long time she simply sat there, staring. Everything she could have possibly done to embarrass herself she had done it. But if the bed was messed up on the other side, that meant that Draco had actually stayed with her. For how long she didn’t know, but regardless of that, he’d gotten in bed with her. Even after she had been so foolish. Going into pubs to drink in? Conversing with strangers? Spilling out all her sorrows to Draco and then asking to kiss him to staying the night? All on Harry’s wedding too!

It was the last thought that had her getting out of bed. She needed to talk to Harry and Ginny, to apologise, though she had no idea what to say.

Throwing on a t-shirt and jeans before messily tying her hair back, Hermione went quickly downstairs, each step sounding deafening to her ears. But then the closer she got to the kitchen the thumping of her footsteps wasn’t the only thing that had her forcing down a cringe. There was music. Probably a lot less louder than it sounded but music nonetheless, and as she rounded the corner to see exactly why there was music playing, Hermione was greeted with a sight she would never forget. Draco Malfoy was in her kitchen. Swinging his hips along with the music player on the counter, singing quietly to himself as he flipped pancakes up in the air and caught them again with a frying pan. 

“Hey, Granger,” he said, flashing her a smile that, had she not already been speechless, might have robbed her of her voice. “I’m cooking.”