*TW* Drug abuse, brief mention of domestic violence.
Hermione woke with a start, her own screams ringing in her ears.
She quickly turned to see if she had woken Ron, finding him sound asleep, snoring and sweating off the alcohol he had drank the night before.
She wasn't sure when her nightmares shifted from battlefields and a deranged Bellatrix to the angry voice of the redhead that slept next to her. Having barely survived his violence in her dream, she clutched her chest, trying to coax a sense of calm back to her.
The last two days had been especially hard. Work wasn't the same without Malfoy there, distracting her from life. Without his boyish smile, or his midwinter eyes trailing the pages of a book. She hadn't realized how safe work felt with him there. And she reluctantly admitted to herself that she missed him when he was gone.
Theo still came by for lunch, which helped lighten her day a bit. He made her laugh and she enjoyed their conversations. Theo was quite smart, helping her through spots in her werewolf project where she and Malfoy had been stuck.
He had begged her to come to Nott Manor for Malfoy's birthday celebration. Her heart sank at the idea of missing it, though she wasn't sure why. It wasn't as if she regularly went to see the Slytherins outside of work.
Nothing in her life made sense anymore. The people she knew and loved growing up were strangers in this life. The new friends she looked to for clarity or escape were the last people she ever thought she would care about. But she did. She looked forward to seeing them. And she had no idea what to do with those feelings.
She wracked her brain for any excuse to attend the party but could find none. She would be needed at home with Ron. And she shuddered at the thought of him finding out who she would have spent her Saturday night with.
So, instead, she spent it at home, making dinner for her husband. The day started out fine, as they usually do. Ron woke up, showered off his filth from the night before, and met Hermione in the kitchen for his coffee.
Sometime around lunch, he popped open a new bottle of Odgens and the day took a turn Hermione, unfortunately, saw coming. She had looked at him the wrong way, made the wrong thing for dinner. Why couldn't she do anything right? What good was she? She nursed her new bruises as she had the night before.
She shifted where she laid in the bed, picking up the bottle of blue pills and swallowing her preferred amount. She could have just taken a dose of Dreamless Sleep Potion, but she enjoyed the numb feeling that came with her Muggle pills.
That was all. It was just convenient. She had it all under control.
If she were to be seen at the apothecary buying Dreamless Sleep potions and Calming Draughts, people would ask questions. She would raise suspicions. The rumors would spread faster than Black Cat Flu.
Have you seen Hermione Granger-Weasley frequenting the local apothecary? She walks out every other day with vials of pain and calming potions. Do you think she's an addict? How scandalous.
The pills were easier. She wasn't The Golden Girl in the Muggle world. Just another woman on the street. She'd make less of a spectacle of herself that way.
She settled back into her pillow and silently wondered when she'd wake up from the nightmare that was her reality.
***
She had decided. She was going to get Malfoy a birthday present.
It was silly, and perhaps a bit manic of her to be so determined about something as trivial as simply getting her coworker a present for his birthday. But she couldn't help but feel like she owed him something. Some sort of show of gratitude for the offer of friendship and security he gave to her.
She slowly closed the book she had been trying to read for the past few hours and checked the time on the grandfather clock in the living area. Half past noon. She still had time to pop into London to shop around.
Shifting her reading glasses to the top of her head, she rose from her writing desk and lightly stepped around the sofa to face Ron. He hadn't started drinking yet, so his temper was still at bay, though he stared at her incredulously.
"What is it?" he asked.
Hermione steeled herself. "I've got to go into London to pick up a few things for work." It was only a half lie. She really did want to pick up a few new pens and go to the bookstore. Still, her heart pounded in her chest. "I'll only be gone for a bit. Would you like me to pick up anything for you?"
He returned his gaze to the television, watching an old rerun of the Muggle football championship. "Need another bottle of Odgens," he supplied, indifferently.
She tried no to flinch at the request, knowing it would only upset him. "Okay. I'll be back soon." He grunted at her as she walked away.
She grabbed her bag and wand from her desk. Once she safely Apparated into Muggle London, she set off for the local jeweler.
The city streets were calm for a Sunday afternoon, and the clouds overhead were turning her favorite shade of grey, bringing with them, she hoped, a cool summer drizzle. She watched as children stomped around in the wet puddles left behind by the last rainfall, remembering when she was once that carefree.
When she was a girl, her parents would take her to the local candy store – though, not often, as they were both dentists and heavily advocated against the overindulging of sweets. She would walk hand-in-hand with them, cheering 'again, again!' every time they would swing her by her arms between the two of them. Her curls would grow twice their normal size in the summer humidity, breaking free of the carefully placed ponytail her mother had wrestled it into. She would giggle and her parents would smile at her.
She yearned for that innocence again. Before she fought in an entire war as a mere teenager. Before witnessing her schoolmates, people she grew up with, or looked up to die much too young. Before her husband changed into someone unrecognizable.
She shook her head free of those memories as she approached the jeweler's shop. She remembered that Malfoy's watch had broken on Thursday, and while she was sure he had an entire wardrobe full of accessories at his disposal, she still hoped it would be a thoughtful enough gesture.
She stepped through the door, greeted by the ding of a bell and the smiling face of an older woman behind the glass jewels display case.
"Hello there, how can I help you this afternoon?" she called to Hermione where stood in the doorway.
"Hi, I'm interested in your collection of men's watches for..." She trailed off, unsure of how to word her request. She couldn't very well say, 'for my extremely handsome and obscenely rich coworker, who I only just recently started to get along with, because he was a true prat in our school years, but he's changed and is actually a decent bloke now and he makes me feel safe, which is ridiculous but I'm still going to buy him a watch anyway,' now, could she?
"For my father," she finally supplied, sheepishly.
"Okay, dear, right this way," the saleswoman ushered her to the opposite display case, filled with a smorgasbord of watches to choose from. "What style does he prefer?"
"Something sleek," she replied. "But perhaps with a bit of traditional charm?" She was making no sense, pitying the woman who had to assist her.
"Hmm," she debated, eyeing the array of very regal looking wrist watches. "What about something like this?"
She held up a simple, silver watch with black leather straps and hash marks to hold the place of the numbers on the clock face. She smiled, picturing it on Malfoy's wrist. It would fit him wonderfully.
"It's perfect," she beamed. "How much?"
"150 pounds."
"I'll take it."
She handed her Muggle money – from the savings she had held for herself, money Ron had no idea existed – to the saleswoman, as she boxed the watch.
"Would you like it gift wrapped?"
"Yes, please."
She wrapped the box in black wrappings and a silver bow, placing it in a matching black gift bag. Hermione thanked her as she took the bag and went on her way to her favorite Muggle bookstore.
After securing a few new fiction books and a new pack of black ink pens – her work pens had suspiciously gone missing, though she suspected the two Slytherins with mild pen obsessions were the culprits – she Apparated to Diagon Alley to pick up Ron's whiskey.
Making sure everything was safely stowed away to travel home, she cast a Disillusionment Charm on the present for Malfoy, hiding it deep in her bag.
As she popped on her front porch, she was met by a very stately looking owl perched on the railing, holding a letter addressed to Granger. She retrieved it from the bird's beak and gave the owl a small pat before it flew away.
She recognized the handwriting immediately.
Granger,
I'm so sorry to have to inform you in a letter, but I will not be back in the office tomorrow. My mother has decided to extend her stay.
Theo says he missed you last night. Told me to tell you, and I quote, "You owe us a drink soon, curly."
Don't worry, I will break him of that hideous nickname.
Hope your weekend has treated you well. I will be back to work on Tuesday. Look forward to seeing you then.
Draco
Hermione looked around her before quickly setting the incriminating letter up in flames. She still hadn't told Ron about her new work partner, and she intended to keep it that way.
She couldn't help but smile at the letter, and Theo's severely unoriginal nickname. She wondered what it would be like to spend a night out drinking with her new friends.
Trouble. That's what it would be. Pure trouble.
***
"Theo!" she called to her fellow curly-hair friend from the Ministry lift. He turned around and flashed her a smile, green eyes shining like Christmas lights. His dress shirt was lazily tucked into brown trousers and he fumbled with this work tote.
"Good morning, Granger. Did you get Malfoy's note? Did he tell you what I said?"
"Yes, yes, horrid nickname and all. You're a clever wizard, surely you come up with something a bit better than curly?"
"Hmm, perhaps you're right. I will think on it. So, when do we get our drink with Gryfindor's Princess?"
She rolled her eyes. "Not sure. I will think on it," she said, mocking his own thinking expression.
He laughed. "Touché."
"There was something I was going to ask you," she added as they walked through the Ministry halls. "Are you going to see Malfoy today? I got him a birthday present and was hoping you could give it to him for me?"
"Can't say I will, love. Though you could see him... give it to him yourself?" He glanced at her from the corner of his eyes, a small smirk spreading across his face.
"Oh, I – I couldn't – I don't," she stumbled, awkwardly. "He's with his mother, I couldn't possibly interfere."
"He's not meeting her until after lunch. Said she had a few things to do this morning. He'll probably be at his flat. He hates spending unnecessary time at the Manor. You could drop by?"
"I don't know where he lives."
He conjured a notepad and a quill and wrote down what looked like an address and handed the piece of paper to Hermione. "Now you do."
She glanced down. She knew this flat. She walked by it everyday on her way to work. Admired it, even. It was her dream flat. And it was his? Of course it was his.
A bit frustrated, she huffed. "Couldn't you just take it to him? I can't just show up to his flat."
"Sure you can, love. Guess I won't be seeing you for lunch then?" He winked as he began to turn down another hall towards the Department of Mysteries.
"Theo!" she called after him, but he deliberately ignored her. Wanker.
"Ugh," she complained, looking at the address again.
It looked like she would be taking an early lunch break.