The Purist / DRAMIONE (COMPLETE)

Platform 9 ¾

Hermione did not spare a thought for Draco after their run-in at Malfoy Manor. She, Harry and Ron had enough to be getting on with, and they were in the thick of the war. They crossed paths briefly during the Battle of Hogwarts, but not afterwards.

Once they had attained peace, though, her thoughts returned to him once more. There had to be a reason, she thought, for why he had wanted to torture her. He had been a bully, that was true, but he had never inflicted physical pain on someone other than during Quidditch matches. He had been a weak bully and an even weaker, fake bully once they had become friends.

Eventually, of course she realised why he had done it. Being confronted by him with his wand pointing at her had reminded her of when he had cast Obliviate. He had known that a similar sight would bring back her memories, and it had. He had done what he had to do in order to get her to remember him again. She wasn't bitter; she was thankful. A few curses in exchange for forgotten memories. She would do it all over again.

*

NINETEEN YEARS LATER

For some reason, Hermione hadn't expected to run into Draco at Kings Cross. She had seen him in passing over the years, but never spoken to him. She knew he had a son, born of his girlfriend Astoria Greengrass. For some reason they had never married. Hermione guessed people could do as they liked now the war was over. Everything had changed, after all. 

However, after she and Ron had waved off Rose, and Ron took Hugo to speak to Harry, Gina and Lily, Hermione found herself face-to-face with Draco.

"Almost two decades, and you look like a true vampire," Hermione smiled sadly. "Even more so than sixth year." 

They shared a secret glance: Draco, while not being a vampire, had his pale complexion due to the unfortunate status of a werewolf.

Draco bared his perfect white teeth. 

"But I do not have the fangs required, with blood dripping from them; however similar to Greyback that sounds. Those dreadful molars of yours, though: they could be fangs." 

She leered at him mockingly.

"I lost those molars after you cursed them to grow like a beaver's," Hermione said reproachfully. "How is Astoria doing? I didn't expect you to be here alone."

"She's ill," he answered, his words void of emotion. "Gravely ill."

"I'm so sorry," Hermione said, shocked. "That's terrible."

He waved it aside, with no wish to dwell on Astoria's poor health. 

"How are you, Granger?" Draco questioned, his eyes searching hers. "How is Weaslebee?"

"Back to surnames, Malfoy?" Hermione stared at him. "Why, Draco? We passed that long ago."

"My apologies," Draco answered a little stiffly. "I hadn't realised on what terms we would be with each other. It's been nineteen years. I didn't even realise we would be on speaking terms."

"We're friends, Draco. Or at least, we were. Even more so, had I not requested you to Obliviate me."

She paused for a moment. It was a difficult memory for the both of them. Then she remembered the second question he asked.