Remain Nameless

Chapter 7

It took Granger roughly three minutes and thirty-two seconds into their Monday morning conversation at the café to bring up Draco being at the Harpies match over the weekend.

"Ginny said you were at her match Saturday."

Draco froze and narrowed his eyes. Oh she did, did she? And what else did She-Weasel tell you about me?

"I didn't realize my attendance was of any concern to Ginny Weasley," he spoke in his coldest tone, his fingers taking up their lazy route around his mug.

"It's Potter, and I thought those two teams weren't a matchup you needed to attend for work?"

Nothing fucking gets past you, does it Granger? Fuck.

Draco shrugged in what he hoped was peak nonchalance. "I have free tickets to any match I want through work. Just felt like watching a bit of quidditch, I guess. Not sure why Weasley has her knickers in a twist over it."

Granger rolled her eyes. "It's Potter, and don't be vulgar. She merely mentioned she saw you in your company box during the match, that's all."

But that wasn't all. Because if that was all, then why was Granger suddenly looking apprehensive? "You know," she began in an attempt at an offhand tone, but Draco could still sense her nervousness. "If you'd wanted, you could have come over and um, said hello."

Draco gaped at her. "Said hello?" he repeated dumbly. She nodded and swallowed an apparent lump in her throat.

"Yes, I thought, you know, you could have come to our box and um, said hello, you know, to um, me and everyone and maybe, um... hung out..." she was quietly rambling in a very flustered manner and Draco was dumbfounded at her words.

"Hung out. In your box. With you." She stared back at him, suddenly looking fearful at his low tone and sneering face. Good. She should be frightened of him. He wasn't a good person, not like her. Not like her real friends.

"Tell me Granger, what kind of welcome reception would have awaited me from your precious Potter and the Weasley clan? Handshakes and hugs? Then we'd all joke around and happily reminisce about all the fond memories we share? Is that what you envisioned?"

They'd reached a conversation topic they only ever danced around. But now, because of Granger, the outside world had intruded into their little peaceful morning sanctuary, bringing with it the looming threat of dangerous trips back down memory lane. Some nights, alone in his large bed, Draco had wondered how long they could carry on like this: this blissful state of ignorance to the rest of the wizarding world and its opinions of the two of them having coffee together. Of having personal conversations and sharing bits and pieces of their lives, but sharing nothing more than passing mentions of her friends or family, or of his family or their time at Hogwarts. Because if they had to talk about all that in a deeper, more specific way, then the bubble would burst. Draco would burst. He would completely unravel in front of her and all his years of healing would probably go right out the window. And he would have to say the words he'd been too much of a coward to say to Hermione Granger.

"Because if that's what you envisioned, Granger, allow me to completely disabuse you of that notion. If I'd made it over the threshold of that box without getting hexed several times over I'm sure the only thing I could expect from those wonderful people you call friends would have been icy glares and possibly even a few fists to the face. So no, Granger. I did not think to come over and just 'say hello.'"

She looked abashed and a little hurt. Good. I'm not a good person, Granger, can't you see that? Can't you of all people see that? I'm not good for anyone, least of all you.