Draco's POV
"I suppose you'll be tempted to uncork some champagne tonight, but I'd advise you not to celebrate so soon."
"I don't care what you advise."
I slam the car door on him the instant he's in. I don't talk as I start the car and begin winding through the giant concrete maze of the parking garage.
I should be celebrating tonight that he was actually telling the truth. I hadn't believed him, so he'd invited me along to an appointment. Instead, I'm pissed that he's decided to take his iron fist of control to the grave, and I have no choice but to either give up what's rightfully mine or give in to his stipulation. Either way, I lose.
"Son, you're the last Malfoy. I know you're upset at me but forty, fifty years from now, everything would belong to someone outside the family anyway if you have no heir. Your punishment for letting that happen is that it happens sooner rather than later."
"Shut...UP. I'm driving."
"Draco, I won't ask you to forgive me. You loved her and so did I. But you, as a man yourself now, surely you understand. Men have needs. It has nothing to do with love."
"WELL IT SHOULD!"
I yell so loud that my throat burns for the next few minutes. He doesn't start back up with his nonsense until we're nearly to the manor. I've made it in record time, risking yet another ticket in order to get him out of my sight. After I pull around the circular fountain that's dormant until spring, I stop the car and don't even shut the engine off. He gets that I'm not coming inside and tries one last time.
"I loved your mother. Her death broke my heart. And you break my heart over and over. But I deserve your wrath, and that's fine." I grip the wheel as he continues. "What about you? Don't you think you should know what it feels like to love? To have someone there next to you each night and with you each day?"
"I don't need anyone. And trust me, no one needs me."
"That's a very nihilistic thing to say."
"Yeah, well," I retort sarcastically.
"You came with me today, you heard the Oncologist, and now you know I'm telling the truth. I have only a mere few months. You know what you have to do before then. But it could also be less time than what he's estimating, so don't waste time."
"Super."
"Draco," he starts, but I cut him off.
"Get out. We're finished here."
He doesn't lecture or even sigh. He just exits the car, and for the short few seconds that he struggles to get out of the angular car that isn't built for weak thigh muscles, I feel a momentary twinge. It's fleeting but it's enough to turn my rage into an inferno.
Despite what he's done, despite everything, deep down I still love him. I'm more human in this moment than I like to be. I need to get out of here.
I don't even wait for him to reach the front door. My tires violently throw gravel and the ass end of the car fishtails until I get enough traction. I take the narrow tree-lined drive at ludicrous speed and flirt with the idea of dark things. Somehow I make it back to the city a while later in one piece, but my mind and soul are splitting.
I am coming apart at the seams.
****
As if the first time went so well, Blaise wants a do-over. The last thing I want to do is torch my friendship with him, though. He's been a good friend to me through some dark times. If being sociable with this girl and her friend is going to make him happy, then I'll do it.
I wonder if I've ever been as happy as he's been lately.
Either way, I can at least slip on a mask and pretend to be less of an asshole for a little while. The effort might kill me but I'm indifferent.
We're meeting at a nicer restaurant this time, which means I have to dig into my closet for the nicer suits I used to wear with frequency. I used to socialize at nicer establishments, use the right fork, play the social games, and fend off the vapid gold-diggers. At least tonight's company won't make me want to stab someone with a sharp piece of cutlery. Lavender's harmless and at least appears to be genuinely into Blaise, and her friend is well-spoken and kind. Too kind. The girl's too nice for her own good.
It's the first time in a long while that I've made an effort, and the mechanical motions feel a little strange. But I show up looking and smelling nice, and mentally prepare myself to suspend my rage for a little while.
This time I'm the one who's late. Actually, I'm on time but everyone else is early. Their smiles as I apologise and seat myself are cautious but genuine.
At first I merely test the waters and try to quiet my mind. Once I've accomplished this, the beast stops rattling his cage and I forget for a little while just how angry I am.
It's infectious, watching my best mate and his girl interact. I can foresee things getting serious pretty quickly. We share a private glance when the women aren't looking and I'm now positive of my assessment. I lean over and say a very quiet "congratulations" in his ear. When he leans away, his knowing smile is like a soothing balm.
It's nice to feel something good for a change, even if only for tonight.
I don't touch my wine glass. Instead, I relax and listen to the current topic that's being discussed: travel. Now this is something I'm interested in. As if Blaise can read my mind, he points out that I've done extensive traveling. The friend turns her warm brown eyes on me and projects sunshine like an aura. She smiles enthusiastically, as if I've just become the most interesting person in the room.
She's pretty, I think to myself.
She wants to hear about the places I've been. I indulge her and find that I'm even enjoying myself as I recall each of the countries I've visited. At the mention of Japan, her entire face explodes with some supernova fervor.
"I know some Japanese," she proclaims. "I've always wanted to go."
"Hermione took extra classes instead of goofing off like I did," her friend adds.
My passing interest suddenly shifts and I ignore Lavender completely. It's just the sweet creature and myself in the room now, and I need to know why she hasn't already checked this item off of her bucket list.
"You should go. It's remarkable."
The light dims in her eyes a little. She says something like "I wish". Lavender takes the liberty of explaining that Hermione chooses to work for a nonprofit humane society instead of using her degree for a more profitable career. Now I understand.
"I love what I do," she defends.
I want to tell her that she doesn't owe anyone in this world an apology but I lose the fleeting thought. My mind stops churning. My rage isn't even simmering in the background somewhere. I'm pleasantly hypnotised.
As I listen to her speak eloquently and passionately about the plight of the animals they care for and work to rehome, I find myself appraising her in a way I hadn't appraised a woman in a very long time.
Her curls are tamed compared to the first time I met her, but they're still thick and barely contained in whatever contraption she had securing it all at the back of her neck. Her long lashes formed a flattering umbrella over her wide, chocolate eyes. And just the tip of the crevice that hinted at her concealed cleavage made me instinctively wet my lips.
Hermione Granger was smart, pretty, well-spoken, and - as I watched her eat throughout the course of the meal - graceful. She didn't talk with her mouth full or interrupt. Her emotions, aside from the mention of travel, were measured and controlled. Her clothing was classy but simple. She seemed to have it all, except that she was too nice. Someday, someone was going to take advantage of that.
If they haven't already.
The thought darkens my mood.
This time, instead of carelessly tossing my card down, I pluck the check from the waiter's hand. I owed it to Blaise and to the ladies. I could see that Hermione didn't expect it. She didn't go on talking as I signed my copy, as most women I've encountered will do. She was watching my pen strokes as if it felt wrong to her to let me pay. My eyes lift and I risk a direct exchange with her.
"Maybe you and I can have lunch sometime and you can treat. Deal?"
I don't know why I said it. She obviously doesn't either, but she recovers nicely and bestows a slight smile upon me as she accepts. It's hard to say whether she's only being polite or whether she'll actually have lunch with me. Either way, her warmth is addicting.
And I want more.