The Beautiful Square at Midnight
Title: The Beautiful Square at Midnight
Author: somandalicious
Rating: G
Word Count: 618
Notes/Warning: This drabble was initially written for the recent challenge at dramione_ldws , but as I went to post it, I saw that the word limit was 350. Needless to say I had to axe a lot of it out, but I promised myself that after the challenge was over, I was going to post the original drabble. Then, as I was looking it over, I added a bit to it and then inadaze22 gave it a quick beta. I hope you enjoy the fuller version as opposed to the weaker, shorter one.
There is a coldness that lies within Hermione Granger, but it has little to do with the legendary chill of Moscow. Still, she pretends it’s the temperature and walks along the sprawling bricks of the Red Square, her gloved hands pulling the fur collar of her coat tighter.
It is easy to ignore the loneliness that echoes with the footfalls of her heeled boots, and so she calls it determination instead. There is a war to win, after all, and she has no time to dwell on the past and all of its regrets. Information needs to be exchanged, targets supervised, and a role played. Frivolities such as feelings and affection are a weakness that she cannot afford.
She couldn’t fail the ministry, and so instead, she chose to fail her heart.
Saint Basil’s Cathedral looms largely into the twilight sky; a colorful beacon of history and hope and for awhile, Hermione thinks it audacious and spectacular in the golden electricity. Tourists are sparsely grouped within the crowd of celebrating Muscovites, and she can spot them like black birds against the snow.
The sight reminds her that this isn’t her home. It’s a foreign land flourishing with possibility, but thinly veiled with bureaucracy and distrust. Sometimes she thinks that she isn’t so unlike Moscow at all and that’s the part of her she abhors the most.
Standing near the great wall of the Kremlin, she acts as though she's there for the same reasons as everyone else. That she’s just another person looking to welcome the New Year as a fresh start.
Sometimes, she wishes she could just pick herself up and go back home. Back to a new beginning. But too much weighs on her shoulders and she will not forgo her responsibilities for something she probably no longer deserves.
Then he’s standing in front of her.
How he found her amongst the crowd, she’ll never know, but it shocks her system. Momentarily, she remembers the warmth of his silvery blonde hair and the hot ash of his eyes. There are flashes of candent mouths upon flushed skin, whispered promises never to be fulfilled and strummed caresses of heartstrings. She recalls the fear of a feeling so unfathomable, so engulfing that her initial reaction is to flee.
Yet, she cannot.
He has everything she wants, but she has something he needs. That they all need.
It is moments like this when she forgets to breathe. But there is frigidness in Draco Malfoy’s voice and it has everything to do with her espionage. He portrays indifference, as if they had never shared a history or the hopefulness of romance.
With icy bare fingertips, he accepts the parchment she offers. It’s difficult to stand next to him and not throw herself into him in effort to seek the companionship that ghosts between them. He nods and murmurs a farewell. Nonchalance is the mask he bears because there is a war to win, after all, and he has no tome to entertain her apologies. He has Portkeys to catch, a dossier to deliver, and moves to make. Leisure such as enjoying the festivities with the one he had once claimed to love and begging for her to return are not part of his agenda.
She had failed him, but he wouldn’t let her fail the Ministry.
Without thought, she reaches for his hand. There is a hotness that she feels through the leather of her gloves. His eyes meet hers. They are full of every emotion he doesn’t intend to share as they search her face. Ephemerally, he steps closer, realization relaxing his disposition.
Draco Malfoy finally understands there is a fire in Hermione Granger’s heart and it is him.