Draco had never been a fan of smoking; cigarettes or marijuana. Both had a distinct, almost painful smell that seemingly burned the back of his nasal cavity whenever he would get an accidental whiff. To him, it was simply an unbecoming habit that seemed absurdly unnecessary.

Chuckling to himself, Draco takes a drag of his blunt, the wrap had a light raspberry flare and he inhaled it gratefully. The marijuana had been a 'happy divorce day' gift from Theo, and at the time Draco had scoffed heartbrokenly, swearing he'd never use it, that it was a waste of product.

"Just hold onto it, mate." Theo had said, averting his eyes from Dracos. "Save it for a rainy day."

To his dismay, the final day of filing the paperwork for his separation began with a light misting, that turned into a gentle pattering of rain. He absently thought about how once he returned to his now empty manor, he should owl to Theo, curse him out for somehow knowing exactly how it'd play out.

Releasing his air, Draco watches the smoke exit his lips and twirl, dissipating into the lightly humid air. Draining his neck and holding the blunt inches away from his mouth, he peers around the outside landing of the bakery he currently occupied, his presence being the only one.

No one wanted to sit outside on rainy days, even if there was a patio covering, and he supposed he couldn't blame them. He'd much rather be inside, sitting in the back boothhe normally shared with his wife- ex wife, he reminded himself - but the booth had been occupied when he arrived by a younger couple, obviously still in the throws of their youthful romance and he refused to disrupt them.

He needed to smoke his celebratory blunt anyway.

"Draco." It wasn't a question, it was a statement, announcing his name to further announce her presence and obvious annoyment.

"Hello Hermione," he replies, taking another drag and gestures to the empty chair across from him. "Do sit."

She gives him an annoyed glare, her right hand perched stiffly on her hip, left toe tapping harshly until she concedes with a huff, plopping herself down in such an unladylike like way that he snorted.

Ignoring the sound he made, she gingerly picks up the menu. "I see you've picked up smoking?" She says, her voice disapproving.

"Occasionally," he replies, glancing at the roach between his fingers. "Few weeks ago. You would know if you came to pick up your things but..." he lets his voice carry on, not finishing the thought, and he reveals in the burn on her cheeks. She should be embarrassed,he's happy she is; there was no way he was going to let her off easy.

"Yes, I'm sorry about that." She replies, eyes scouring the menu. "The land lord at the apartment had left the wrong set of keys so Ginny was helping me track them down and it was just easier to send Harry."

"Right, of course." Draco says, watching her flip a page. In his very light defense, Potter had looked seldom when he showed up at Malfoy Manor, scratching that head of unruly hair and stating he was there in place of Hermione.

"Er, malfoy, for what it's worth," Harry had said after he'd moved the last box, a clumsily tapped box containing her limited amount of kitten heels. "I am sorry. I know we were never friends, and you were a down right prat in school, but, you didn't deserve this."

Draco had just starred at him until his awkwardness got the better of them and Harry had driven off, leaving Draco with a lump so large in his throat he could barely breath.

A waitress stood at their table to inquire Hermione of her order, and she snaps the menu shut, back straight like she's about to give a presentation, and his chest aches.

"A lemon scone please, and a small espresso, no sugar." She says, and the waitress gives her a nod before disappearing back into the restaurant. Using her fingertips, hermione smooths out the cover of the folded menu, her fingers drumming lightly as the quietness stretches on.

He wants to break it, ask her how her latest case at the ministry is panning out, or if she had decorated her new apartment similar to the way she had decorated their home, but he bites his tongue. She shifts slightly, tucking her skirt beneath her thighs and he reveals as he watches her stew.

Her nails are bitten to stubs, the cuticles ratty as she drumbs them against the table cloth. Light freckles decorate her cheeks, honey-colored eyes drip with laces of deep brown when she avoids his gaze, and he hates that she is still beautiful in his eyes.

He can't imagine a time where she won't be, no matter how much she hurts him.

"So, I brought the paper work." She sighs, the silence too much for her to bear and Draco gives a wary grin of triumph.

He's allowed to feel this way, allowed to be thrilled that she's uncomfortable, because this isn't his fault.

Taking another drag, he inhaled sharply, stubbing the roach out on the ash try that sits between them, the ash and wrapping making a soft squeaking sound. Hermione watches his actions, apprehension dressing her features. Glancing up from the ashtray to her face, he stones his features.

"Well, where are they." He deadpans, and she jumps lightly.

"Right, of course." She mumbles, fishing in that unnecessarily long bag of hers as the waitress approaches their table again, placing an espresso cup and yellow danish infront of her as she digs.

"Two checks or one?" The waitress drawls, sounding bored, and Draco supposes her can't blame her. She couldn't have known his whole world is teetering to explode.

"Two"

"One"

They say together, and Hermione shoots him a questioning look.

"One, please." Draco repeats and the waitress walks away as Hermione sighs.

"You don't have to do that," she says, finally locating the god-forsaken folder. "I can pay my ha-"

"Oh do shove off, Granger." Draco spits, leaning back in his chair. "Shove off and let me pay for the fucking meal."

Hermione doesn't answer, instead she lifts her espresso cup and takes a tentative sip, testing the temperature. They sit quietly for a while, Hermione poking at her danish, and Draco feeling the warm buzz of a high set over him.

"It's been a long time since I've heard that," she chuckles, almost to herself. When he doesn't reply, she says. "I almost forgot my maiden name."

Hermione had been instant on taking his name, even though he had pointed out Granger-Malfoy had a nice ring to it. They had spoken and agreed about many things in the months leading up to their marriage, rarely disagreeing, but Hermione had been adimant about the name.

"Granger belongs to the hogwarts golden girl, to Ron and Harry, to the god forsaken war." She'd explained, sighing heavily at his attempts to distract her. "When I'm your wife, I want everyone to know. Because you, Draco Malfoy, have become a glowing light of a man and I would be so humbled to share something as wonderful as a name with you."

That conversation felt so long ago now.

"I know you don't believe me," Hermione begins, dragging Draco back to the present, and she wipes her hands on the napkin. "But, I am so sorry for my actions." She pauses when he says nothing, then adds, "I'm so ashamed, and I'm truly sorry for hurting you."

Draco closes his eyes, the buzz keeping his skin warm but his chest felt cold, hollow. "You know, I really thought we had it." He says, voice low, and Hermione goes still.

"Had what?" She asks shyly, and he raises a brow at her.

He gestured between them with his right hand, moving it back and forth. "This, our life." He says, and his voice drops to a whisper. "You're my best friend, I'll love you forever."

Hermione takes a quick breath in, reaching for her espresso quickly and downs it.

"Draco, you deserve better." She says sadly, shame written so clearly on her face. "What I did...was despicable."

"I know," he bites back, then relents with a sigh. "Part of me wishes you never told me all about it."

"But..." Hermione says perplexed. "You deserved the truth. A truthful wife, not one that's...unfaithful."

The last word makes Draco nauseous, like he'd eaten too many sweets and he lets out a groan. As silence decends them, Hermione removes the paper work from the folder and pushes it across to him, then hands him a quill.

"You're right," Draco says, steeling himself, and he grips the quill. "I do deserve the truth. I just wish it had been you."

-

When Draco enters his manor, theo is already there, prepared to play babysitter as he pours a glass of fire whiskey and holds it up.

"Is it done?" Theo asks,even though he knows the answer.

He can't remember the last time he saw dracos face puffy, with red cheeks and watery eyes.

Draco slumps onto his velvet green couch, the smell of marijuana wafting off of him as he reaches for the glass. Theo passes it to him, then sits crosslegged by his right knee.

"Did she ever say who?" Theo asks tentivly, starring into the fire.

Draco takes the entire glass in one swing, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. "Pucey."

Theo grunts a sound of disapproving understanding, then pats his best mates knee lightly. "I'm truly sorry, draco."

Draco shrugs, bitting the inside of his cheek so hard he tastes copper.

"I took it for granted." Draco sighs, sitting up slightly. "I'm not blaming myself, I'm aware I'm not the one who cheated, but..." he pauses, rubbing his temple. "I wish I didn't doubt it."

Theo says nothing, and he's grateful.

They sit for a while, starring into the fire and Theo occasionally refills his glass. Draco crains his neck, eyes going out of focus as he drums his fingers on the glass.

If he was honest, he missed her so badly he thought he was going to be sick. Her eyes, her hair, the way her cheeks would pinch by her eyes when she grinned. The euphoria he had gotten with her was like nothing he'd ever experienced, a high he knew he'd never find again.