Chapter Text
Chapter 1
This was what he liked the most about his nights: it was quiet, he had time to himself to decompress, and he could run through his nightly ritual of closing down the pub. He could count the till in peace. Exchange empty bottles for full. Take stock of what he had and what he needed. Sweep the floor, and clean it to perfection. It was everything he had been raised to believe a house elf should do, but he found solace and pride in doing them himself.
Draco Malfoy actually enjoyed doing the work himself.
At first, he just wanted something to keep himself busy, both mentally and physically, so he could simply pass out in his bed without having to take a dreamless sleep potion. He needed something to keep his mind off of the war and its endless nightmares. Before finding and putting all of his time, money, and hard work into the former hole-in-the-wall pub, he couldn’t close his eyes without seeing the monsters that destroyed every happy memory of his childhood home in a year’s time. He couldn’t lay in bed without feeling the permanent cold that used to seep into his bones or hear the screams of those being tortured right below his bedroom. And worst of all, his mind always replayed the night Potter and his friends were found and brought to the manner; especially when his demented aunt splayed Granger out on the floor, carving that word into her arm and he didn’t do a damn thing to stop it.
However, he now had The Snake Den to keep him occupied. Within a few short months, he was able to convince the old owner to sell it to him and transformed the grungy, dirty pub with a broken-down jukebox and a few beers to choose from into a respectable establishment that had live music and any liquor you could think of. Of course, when remodeling, he may or may not have taken inspiration from the Slytherin common room with its green and silver colors and smooth, relaxed seating options. He had even replaced the old bar top with dark, finished wood and snake scale accents. It quickly became his home away from home and he truly found enjoyment in his time there.
Tonight was no different. As soon as the last patron stumbled out and his employees clocked out for the night (well, morning), he turned off the main overhead lights, locked the door, and turned off the open sign before getting to work. He ran through his routine and thanked his lucky stars that it was looking like he was going to make short work of everything. While counting out the till, he couldn’t help but wonder what his former friends or hell, anyone from the magical world, would think if they saw him now. Would they laugh or scoff? Would they be surprised at how much he had changed? Would they recognize him? Would they be proud of him?
Would Gr - no, he couldn’t think that. He couldn’t wonder what she would think of him. He wouldn’t allow himself to even go there. She had made it clear to him that whatever they had during their eighth year would stay within the walls of the castle and never see the light of day again when she left him to rejoin the Golden Trio. It felt as if she had used him as a stand-in while she was away from her real friends and nothing that happened during their last year at school even mattered. Granted, she never truly said anything about being through with him. But he knew the moment they walked off the train and she ran right to her friends to encompass them in hugs and conversations. It was as if she had forgotten all about him. He didn’t wait around long enough to see if she turned around to acknowledge him or not.
He had met with Potter a few times as part of his probation process and it had only taken the other man one time to bring her up to learn it wasn’t a good idea to mention anything. Potter tried to ask what happened between them during that year at school and mentioned that she seemed “off” and “upset,” but Draco shut it down quickly by snapping that it wasn’t any of his business and that Draco wasn’t there to discuss it. Since then, he had only seen mentions of her in the Prophet every now and then. However, it seemed that any mention or news of her had all but stopped and she fell off the face of the magical world. Sometimes (and he would never admit to it actually being often) he wondered where she was and what she was up to.
But she wasn’t his problem anymore. Picking up the chairs and sweeping the floor was his current problem. This was probably his favorite part of his nightly routine because it involved a more physical aspect of the job; he also enjoyed finding what people had left behind and maybe trying to figure out a story behind it. While making his way from table to table, he found a few loose bills, a bracelet, a wallet, a questionable bag filled with white substance, and a single earring. Each one of them went into the lost and found box behind the bar (except for the bills, he considered those a surprise tip). When he reached the last table in the far corner, he found a beaded bag hanging off the back of the chair. He didn’t know why, but looking at the bag gave him a sense of deja vu and he wondered if he had ever seen such a bag before. What woman, or man (he didn’t judge), would willingly be seen with or find use for a small, pink, beaded thing? Whatever, it wasn’t his bag to worry about. He simply tossed it in the box with the other object and went to grab the broom to sweep.
As he swept, he enjoyed the quiet music over speakers and allowed himself to relax. He was just about to finish up when he heard the front door jiggle as if someone was trying to get in. Even though he knew the door was locked and whoever came in would easily be taken care of, he still eased up his hold on the broom handle and started to reach for his wand instead. But then, he heard a faint click of the lock opening, and the door quickly opened and closed.
“I’m sorry, but we’re closed,” he called out to the intruder. Maybe if the person knew someone was still in here, they would change their minds and leave. Even still, he raised his wand just in case.
“I know, but I’m afraid I left my purse.” He froze as he heard a voice he swore his ears would never be graced with again. His stomach dropped to his feet, and he almost dropped his wand to the floor out of pure shock. He couldn’t forget that sweet melody no matter how hard he tried. But what was she doing here? Did she know this was his pub?
“I, uh, I put one back behind the bar, bet it’s probably yours,” he replied, trying to keep the shake out of his voice. He was surprised she hadn’t called him out for recognizing his voice. Did she really care so little about him that she would forget what he sounded like?
As her footsteps got closer, he moved around to the back of the bar and pulled her purse from the lost and found box. No wonder he thought he recognized the beaded thing. However, this one was not the same bag she used during the war; but it definitely had the same look and style as that monstrosity. He placed it on the bar top and stood up to see the honey-brown eyes and curly head of hair he would be able to recognize anywhere.
“Malfoy?” she asked, surprise in her voice.
“Granger,” he drawled. He would never be so glad he was so practiced in keeping a straight face and calm demeanor in times of stress than he was now. Calm and distant, that was what his father had taught him.
“What are you doing here?” It was almost as if she spat those words out at him.
“I could ask you the same thing,” he leaned against the bar as if it wasn’t the only thing truly keeping him standing since his legs decided they would rather become jelly instead.
“I’m here for my purse,” Granger pointed at the bag.
“I meant besides that. What are you doing in my pub to have left your purse here in the first place?” Better question, how was she able to get in and out of his establishment without him noticing? Could she have been here while he was back in his office?
“I came here with a friend for a drink after work,” she offered.
“Must have been multiple drinks if you forgot your purse. You’re never forgetful.”
“Since when have you owned a pub? What happened to you taking over the manor and the family name?” If he didn’t know any better, he would have sworn he heard a bit of disgust and bite in her voice. Maybe some aloofness as well? Did she sound upset at the idea of him taking his place in his family? Was he reading into it too much? He wasn’t sure except that he knew she was surprised to see him as much as he was her.
Way to deflect, Granger , he thought.
“You mean you didn’t read all of the Prophet articles about me going missing? I, personally, loved the one where Skeeter said I was in a hidden cell in Azkaban.” He couldn’t keep the sarcasm from dripping from every word. As he spoke, he placed two tumblers and a bottle of Ogdens on the bar before pouring them both a healthy shot each. He had a feeling that they would both need a drink to get through this interaction and he definitely needed a drink to calm his nerves to keep her talking with him. He knew he should give her her bag and let her leave, but the selfish person he is wanted to surround himself with her once more before releasing her back into the world to start his grieving process all over again.
Granger scoffed, “Are you truly so full of yourself?”
“You can’t tell me you don’t find humor in reading articles about yourself.” He shrugged and offered her one of the glasses before taking a sip from his own glass.
“That vile woman writes nothing but trash,” she rolled her eyes and took the glass from him, taking her own draw of the amber liquid.
“I see you still have great feelings for her,” he chuckled.
“I see you still have great jokes,” she said into her glass.
“You wound me, Granger.” Draco placed a hand over his heart with a great flourish.
Granger set her glass down and gave him a look as if she were studying him and trying to decide what to say next. “But honestly, what are you doing in a pub in muggle London?”
Draco sighed and let his shoulder sag with some defeat. “I was tired of being known as the disgraced son of a Death Eater. Father died quickly in his prison cell, and Mother died of heartbreak. I sold the manor to get away from it all and wanted to start over.” He didn’t know why he was giving up all of this information to a woman who broke his heart, but the words kept coming. “I became quite acquainted with this place during that dark time in my life. The owner decided he was ready to sell it and retire, and I decided I was ready for a new adventure. And thus, The Snake Den became my new home. What about you? I’m surprised Weasel let you go out.”
Granger snorted a true laugh, and it made his heart flutter. “Like I would let a man control me.”
“I beg to differ,” Draco mumbled as he took another sip of his drink. In fact, he remembered all of the times she let him control her and bring her to pleasure.
“Let alone Ronald Weasley,” she continued, obviously ignoring his comment.
“Good for you, Granger.”
“To quote you from earlier, I’m surprised you didn’t read all of the scandalous things Skeeter wrote about me.”
Well shit, how was he going to answer this? Would he be truthful and tell her that he had read every single thing written about her and make himself sound like a bit of a stalker? Or would he lie and say once he left the magical world he didn’t keep up with anything? Draco took another sip, probably way too soon after the last one, to give him time to think. Fuck it, since he was bearing himself already, he might as well keep going. “I’ve read everything about you, Granger.” He gave her a look to show he was being serious.
“Really?” He watched as her features softened and, possibly, heartbreak cross her eyes.
“It’s hard not to when you were always in the Prophet .” That’s right, make it sound casual instead of creepy. “But you stopped popping up a few years ago. It was like you disappeared.”
It was time for Granger to sigh with defeat. “I couldn’t be stuck in the box of being the Golden Girl any longer. Everything was too predictable and it seemed that everyone had already decided my life for me. One day I had enough, and I left. I actually own the bookstore just a few blocks over now. I work the muggle book store and cafe downstairs, and Luna Lovegood runs the potions store upstairs.”
“You’re the owner of the Witch’s Brew? I’ve only ever heard of it.” Not only had she snuck in and out of his pub without him knowing, but she had also been living and working a few blocks away this whole time. How did that even happen?
Granger looked at her watch and groaned before finishing the last of her drink. “Speaking of, I should really get going. I’m opening at eight.”
She made a go for her purse, but Draco grabbed it first and pulled it away from her. He wanted so badly to keep this night going, and he only knew of one way to do so. So he sucked in a breath and made the move. Holding up the purse, he said, “I’ll only give this back on one condition.”