Chapter Text
Saudade is a Portuguese word describing an emotional state of melancholic or profoundly nostalgic longing for a beloved yet absent something or someone . It is said to have no English equivalent.
May 28, 2007 - Estoril, Portugal
Hermione never had much time for nostalgia. Remembering, sure. Reminiscing, definitely. Longing, well, no . She remembered the pain of Obliviating her parents, she reminisced with her friends about their Hogwarts days when they weren’t tracking and hunting how to destroy a psychotic dark wizard, but she didn’t long. She had nothing and no one to long for. It was part of the reason she was here. She ached to feel wonder again.
Hermione had been blessed with the natural tools to be a successful adult since she was eleven years old. It suited her well in her life as an all around capital S swot and bookworm extraordinaire. She had one of the best Auror clearance rates at the DMLE because she refused to allow anyone else’s research to supersede her own. Robbards loved her, and when she pitched the idea for a sabbatical it was her mental health fact sheet that helped win him over. Harry rolled his eyes but Hermione knew he was proud she’d taken the initiative to advocate for a break.
She’d arrived in Portugal two weeks ago with the goals of falling in love with food again, maybe snogging a man or two, and having some friend time with Pansy. What she did not anticipate was sharing that vacation with Draco Malfoy.
“Pans, it’s fine, really.” Hermione wrapped her hair in a low chignon bun.
“I know what you mean when you say fine.” Pansy moved around the long mirrored hallway curating her Monday morning outfit. She was in her third month as a gallery associate to a London artist doing residency in Lisbon. Being in Portugal gave her the chance to revamp her style. Pansy put the amount of effort one would suspect by a chameleon intent on reinvention. Her bob was trimmed to perfection, her clothing tailored for fit and function. Hermione sat on the floor with a book in her lap watching Pansy redraw her already perfect winged eyeliner.
“I mean it. I’ve had two weeks just us girls. I don’t mind Draco coming. Getting to be in Portugal just the two of us has been a dream, but it’ll be nice to see him.”
“You really don’t mind, I invited you both at the same time, Hermione?” Pansy reached out to zip her black dress.
“I mean, at first I was a bit worried. He and I haven’t spent that much time together since Hogwarts. It’s just Draco, honestly, I see him at the DMLE, we’re paired on cases occasionally, we’re friends now. It’s fine.”
“Fine fine fine. I’m nearly late. What are you up to today?” Pansy threw her sunglasses into her small bag.
“Oh I’ll probably walk to the corner cafe and read. His portkey gets in at 7, right?”
Hermione heard a faint “right” as Pansy scurried out of the large master bedroom to exit the flat.
The flat was Pansy’s uncle's high-rise in Estoril about 20 minutes down the coast from Lisbon. Hermione still had to pinch herself that she would be here a whole month. When she first dreamed up a sabbatical from the DMLE she knew she needed a break from England as well.
She went from Horcrux hunting, to fighting in a war, to an overwhelmingly successful 8th year back at Hogwarts, and directly into what most would call a robustly fortunate career as an Auror. Hermione had not stopped moving.
She needed this holiday.
The flat was streaming with natural morning light from the vast windows overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. The furniture was understated but tasteful with wide leather couches, local art, and even a Muggle TV. She raided the vast bookshelves her first week here. She opened the backdoor and stepped onto the sprawling verdana that overlooked the highway running up and down the coastline. From this height she saw down the Avenue de Marginal on both sides straight to Cascais and a handful of seaside villages peppering the coast.
Hermione breathed in the sea air. Her skin was sun kissed and her unruly curly hair somehow softened by the ocean water and seaside breeze. Her freckles canvassed her face like a constellation.
Hermione never had much experience with girlfriends. Excluding Ginny, whom she sometimes considered an extension of Harry, and her dearest “girlfriend,” Hermione was not one to actively seek out new friends.
There was no insecurity in Pansy’s friendship. Their bond was quickly formed 8th year of Hogwarts. Pansy grabbed Hermione’s hands during a Potion’s study group (with more emotion than she had ever seen from the raven-haired Slytherin) and profusely apologized for her role in the battle and former prejudices. It didn’t take long in the absence of Ron and Harry for Hermione to crave new companionship. Pansy owled Harry an apology later that week and soon the rest of the group welcomed her too.
Draco was coming in less than 12 hours. Hermione took another deep breath. She meant what she said to Pansy. They were friends.
Their unlikely friendship also started 8th year at Pansy’s birthday party in mid-November. Hermione summoned all of her Gryffindor courage that night and entered the Slytherin dungeons with her head high and her right hand firmly gripping Neville’s. Both unwavering yet unsure how they’d be welcomed by the returning Slytherins.
Draco mostly kept to himself upon returning to Hogwarts. Harry and Hermione had both testified at Malfoy’s trial that summer. He hadn’t identified them at Malfoy Manor. He barely fought Harry when he seized his wand. His actions were perplexing and Hermione couldn’t make heads or tails of how she would interact with him in the castle walls.
Hermione looked around the Common Room wearily. Blaise Zabini nodded to her from across the room and Theo Nott looked up from his position drapped on the couch with Daphne Greengrass. They were all nice enough to her in their shared classes.
Neville led Hermione to the bar, poured a Firewhiskey, and got immediately distracted by a 7th year asking for Herbology advice.
“Thanks a lot, Neville.” Hermione mumbled into her glass.
“Do you always talk to your Firewhiskey, Granger?” She heard a familiar drawl from behind her.
“Malfoy, hi.” She breathed, as if she hadn’t seen him in four different classes this year. “Erm, no, I usually don't, however I often find myself in less hostile environments.”
“Ah, yes, first time in the snakepit?” He sipped from his rocks glass.
“Well, I couldn’t refuse Pansy,” Hermione smiled.
“No one can refuse Pansy,” he deadpanned.
“Right.” She trailed off looking into the room. This was more than the two had conversed, maybe…ever.
“Listen, Granger, I wanted to owl you. I’ve been meaning to say this for months. Thank you for testifying for me. I spent the entire summer thinking about what I would say to you and honestly are you surprised it took me two months to even approach you? You know I’ve been a coward in more ways than one. Fuck, this is hard . I knew this would be hard,” he steadied himself and took a another drink from his glass.
She was about to speak up when he continued, “I was wrong . There were so many moments last year when I knew I was on the wrong side. I knew I should have fought back. I was so scared. When you were at the Manor, I, I knew I was done. Whatever happened after that I was never going to agree with my father or the Dark Lord. It’s taken me two months to get my bearings. I thought I would be in Azkaban. I don’t expect you to forgive me-"
“I do.” Hermione spoke softly but firmly. “I do forgive you.”
Draco looked stunned but impossibly relieved. “How can you just forgive me like that?” His tone now incredulous.
“I save my grudges for people whose wrongdoings are unfaltering. You’re clearly trying here. Don’t make me regret it, Malfoy. Seriously, I hear one disparaging remark from you and I start workshopping my right hook.”
Draco put his hands up in feigned defense. “I deserve that and more, Granger. Thanks.”
Hermione smiled to herself as Draco walked to join Zabini and a few other 8th year boys. Zabini patted him on the back and whispered something in his ear and Draco nodded.
She surprised herself with how quickly she accepted the apology. She looked into his gray eyes for three consecutive seconds and could feel all the remorse and deference she needed. A shiver ran down her spine.
Huh, friends with the Slytherins. She shot back the rest of her Firewhiskey.
Hermione blinked back into the present. Right, they were friends. Thrown together numerous times in London. Occasionally he’d need prosecutorial evidence or an Auror to testify for a case he was working on and Hermione would be brought in. They worked well together. He was methodical in a way Hermione appreciated. Malfoy had a dry humor that when not directed at Hermione’s hair or blood status she realized she found quite entertaining. They'd been at parties together, even exchanged holiday gifts. It would only feel strange if she made it strange.
Hermione sighed and took one last look down to the ocean. She spied a handful of surfers knocking around near the jetty below. The weather in late May was absolutely perfect. She popped back into the flat to pack her beach bag with lotion, her book, and some fruit.
She and Pansy shared the King sized bed even though there was another guest room available just down the hall. The girls thrived in their close proximity. Hermione produced her wand to reset the wards to the flat and started her slow meander across the street to the beach. It was just a few hours to get some reading done before Pansy got home.
***
“Let me do your make-up, Granger.” Pansy yelled from the loo.
“Why? You know I don’t care.” Hermione shouted back down the long hallway.
Pansy was in the loo leaning over the sink to apply mascara and settle her perfect bob into a messy masterpiece. Merlin, she made this look so easy. It wasn’t that Hermione didn’t care. She did. Pansy could see right through that. Hermione had her style that suited her and she rarely varied it. It worked for her. Pansy and Ginny had shown her a handful of charms in 8th year and since then she’d been on autopilot. The only time Hermione allowed herself to be made up was the occasional Ministry gala or special event.
Pansy walked confidently down the hallway and planted herself in front of Hermione.
“You know you’re incredibly beautiful, Hermione. I would never have acknowledged it when we were younger, but I have always thought so.”
Hermione's face lit up in the glow of her friend’s praise. “Merlin , you’re good.”
“I know. Don’t bother fighting. I’ll win.” She held out her hand to help Hermione to stand.
“You win. Do your worst. Let’s go into tonight with no expectations, yeah?”
***
Thirty minutes later Hermione was sitting in the front seat of Pansy’s Range Rover letting the music wash over her. Pansy drove fast and recklessly and Hermione had been terrified ever since the witch learned to drive a Muggle car. Her short black dress rode up her thighs and Hermione instantly regretted letting Pansy loan her clothes for the night. Pansy parked out front of the Arrivals gate of the Lisbon airport and the two witches scurried inside to the small welcome area. Ministerio da Magia's portkey office was on the airport’s first floor.
Hermione fiddled with the fringe of her feather earrings and almost missed the moment Draco walked up to them wearing trim dark Muggle jeans and a structured collared shirt with the sleeves rolled. He looked relaxed and actually smiled before approaching the women. He scooped up Pansy, who Hermione knew he considered much like a sister. The two had gone from friends to lovers to platonic kindred spirits. She knew they were bonded for life.
He let out a breath and twirled her gently. “Parks, fuck, it’s so good to see you. Owls and Floo-calls are shite. I missed you.” He put her down gently next to Hermione.
With that he looked at Hermione and cocked his head to the side as he leaned in. “Granger,” he drawled, “come here you,” and to Hermione’s surprise scooped her into an equally impressive hug.
“Wow, Draco, you should go on holiday more often. You’re positively unhinged here.” Pansy delighted.
Hermione was still in mild shock from the surprise physical contact. He already seemed more open than she had ever encountered him, which caused her to shoot sideways glances at him as she walked with the two friends locked arm in arm beside her.
Draco placed his small bag into the boot of the SUV and sat in the back leaving Hermione to take her original post in the front.
“So, itinerary, let’s head back to Estoril and pick up some Piri Piri chicken from the place on the corner,” Pansy shouted over the music.
“Oh yes, we love the place on the corner.” Hermione said as she turned the knob down and turned her head to the backseat.
“Then let’s head into Wizarding Lisbon. There’s this amazing club we checked out Hermione’s first week, Lumos. They play both Wizard and Muggle music. It’s right in Alfama. Draco you’ll love it. Hermione had quite a good time last time,” Pansy sent her friend a wink. Hermione instantly blushed.
“Don't think I missed that, Granger. What's the story there?” Draco grabbed onto the seat backs to prop himself closer to the front.
“Oh, just that I came back from dancing with some coworkers from the gallery to find Hermione pressed against the wall by some strapping Portuguese man. She barely came up for air.”
Hermione glared at her friend getting redder by the second.
“Nothing to be ashamed about Granger, seriously. I’m glad you’re taking advantage of your vacation. I’m proud you both know what you want and go for it.”
Hermione was shocked by Draco’s utterly decent response to her sloppy snogging. She certainly didn’t regret it, but she also didn’t often advertise her hook-ups or dating life with her male friends.
“Yes, whatever happened with João, or Joquaim…” Pansy waved her hand.
“Diogo-” Hermione cut in, “had to portkey to a project in the Algarve the next day. It was nothing serious.”
“What’s your situation lately, Draco, love?” Pansy asked as she turned off the Rua d. Marginal into the small neighborhood of the flat complex.
“No, situation, Parks. utterly unattached.” He say back as the car made a series of sharp turns into the lot.
“What do Lucius and Narcissa have to say about that?”
“They can say whatever the flying fuck they want. I refuse to play their little games anymore, you know that.”
Hermione quietly closed her door taking in the two friends’ conversation. She volunteered to go down and grab their dinner order from the corner chicken shop.
Frangos no Churrasco was the type of Muggle place that Hermione was instantly charmed with. Open for take-away only, Hermione had insisted that they order it at least twice a week since arriving. She breathed in the smells of spices and olive oil. She practiced her Portuguese and scooped up the take-away containers.
She let herself past the wards and into the flat and dropped the bags in the small kitchen. On autopilot by this point she reached above the sink to grab two bottles of vinho tinto and three glasses. She heard the others talking in the guest room. She let herself eaves drop on the hushed conversation.
“...how can I back off? I didn't even do anything.”
“Draco, you’re serious?”
“What?”
“What? What? You know what? If Hermione wanted a random shag she could get that here, dear.”
“Whatever you say, Parks. I mentioned one thing. Don’t bite my head off. Which bed is mine?”
“Oh, um, either, Granger hasn’t slept in here at all.”
"Oh, that’s interesting.”
“Yes, well I haven’t needed to kick her out yet, but I did meet a promising wizard this past weekend. Who knows.”
***
Hermione looked around the table to confirm that Draco liked the food. She wasn’t sure why she cared or why she suddenly felt responsible for his experience in Portugal. She thought about all of the other times she found herself responsible for her friends’ experiences and internally chastised herself. After devouring the chicken, chips, and salads the three lounged out on the balcony in chairs facing the ocean. This was Hermione's favorite place. The smell of jasmine enveloped her as the sun sunk into the sky behind the quaint flats.
“Let’s open that second bottle shall we?” Pansy put her head back and exhaled deeply.
Lulled by the wine and the conversation, Hermione felt more relaxed than she had in months. It felt complete with Draco here which perplexed her every sense. Their conversation eased into reviewing cases they’d both worked on, he asked about her friends, and she asked about his. Both had enough sense not to ask about their parents. Draco inquired about the books (plural) she had packed for the trip and she laughed deeply, her cheeks flushed by the wine and attention.
It had only been two weeks but she’d fallen deeply in love with the Portuguese varietal they’d been drinking nightly.
“How far is this vineyard, do you think?” Hermione wondered out loud.
“Couple of hours maybe, why, should we go?” Pansy passed the bottle to Draco.
“Muggle vineyard, that’s a yes,” Draco smirked.
Hermione felt surprised he would even consider this good. She imagined him served the best elf made wine on his dates and dinners.
She started to feel disconcerted with the amount of Draco related surprises she was collecting.
***
“So this is Lumos?” Draco shout whispered into Hermione’s ear as they entered the second floor of the wizard club. The music thrummed through her body rattling her brain and her self preservation.
It definitely had nothing to do with the three glasses of wine she’d already consumed that night. It absolutely wasn’t the blonde wizard walking next to her.
Hermione threw him a small smirk as they weaved through the dancing bodies to the bar. Without hesitation Draco stepped up to order and handed Pansy a tequila on ice with four limes and Hermione a vodka martini. Both of which happened to be their preferred cocktails. She looked gobsmacked as she secured her fingers around the glass.
Draco, as if reading her mind, responded, “Come on Granger, give me some credit.”
She had absolutely no idea what that meant.
Hermione shifted her hips to the beat and scanned the room. She already counted a handful of witches eyeing Draco next to her. Of course.
“Rose, no, Daisy…” Said a tall man approaching them and zeroing in directly at Pansy.
“It’s Pansy.” She deadpanned.
Hermione could see the “fuck off” on the cusp of her friend’s lips when a shorter, infinitely more handsome man walked out from behind the first wizard. Pansy’s demeanor changed instantly.
“Minha flor, excuse my friend.” He said in perfect English, but with a Portuguese affectation that could make your knees weak. His smile was deadly.
Hermione of course made the connection instantly. In a wordless conversation with Pansy consisting of three quick looks and a nod, Hermione surmised this was André.
Pansy came home gushing on the previous Saturday from a gallery event. Pansy never gushed. She shared that she made a commission at the show and the buyer then monopolized most of her time that night. He was attractive, charming, and very unexpected.
He quickly wrapped a hand around Pansy’s waist and pulled her close. Hermione was impressed. She had yet to see her friend taken with a guy so quickly.
Draco shot her a knowing glance before angling his body to face her directly head on. Hermione felt like she was standing on a cliff she didn’t remember approaching.
“Should we dance, Granger?” With that Draco took Hermione’s hand and led her to the dance floor.
Hermione looked up at the neon illuminated bars above her head, the giant pillars to her sides. Anywhere but Draco’s eyes. What was wrong with her? Why was she being so weird? This was just Draco. Literally nothing was going on, he was just being nice. She glanced over to see his mouth moving to the words of the song. She eased into the dance and raised her arms over her head. Hermione closed her eyes, getting lost in the music. It felt good to concede some control and she felt safe knowing Draco was close by.
Hermione watched Draco dance with other witches and she briefly broke away to sway with someone else.
No one was particularly compelling.
She saw Pansy deep in conversation with André still rooted back at the bar where they’d left her an hour ago. Well, that was progressing.
Hermione found herself back in front of Draco and they both had huge smiles plastered on their faces. She was not hiding the fact she was having a fun time with him. The pair walked back over to the bar and within seconds Pansy seized Hermione’s face in her two hands.
“I really, really, really like this guy,” She half slurred into Hermione’s ear.
“No shit” Hermione countered, laughing into her drink.
Draco let out an audible laugh beside her. Hermione looked into her friend’s eyes.
Pansy was letting her stay rent free here for a month. She showed her all around Lisbon. She could never repay her but she could offer this.
“Go,” she said, “Go hang out with André. Draco and I can handle getting home ourselves. Seriously go. You deserve this.”
“Wait, Granger, are you sure? You know the address? You can't Apparate, you know. You can take a Muggle cab home?”
“We’ll be fine, Parks,” Draco cut in. He looked genuinely happy for Pansy and gave her an encouraging rub on the shoulder.
“Wow, okay. So I’m doing this.”
“You’re doing this,” Draco and Hermione chorused in a response.
Hermione watched her friend walk back to the bar to stand directly in between André’s legs. They started snogging within a minute. Huh, so they’re shagging tonight Hermione thought absentmindedly.
She backed up slowly and felt a hard surface, what she soon realized was Draco’s chest. “Sorry, I’m completely knackered,” she blushed.
He steadied her, holding her two elbows. “Granger, it’s fine. I am too. A little drunk too it would seem. Should we head home?”
Hermione nodded and started walking out of the club. She spared one last glance back at Pansy still snogging. Anxiety and indecision mixed inside her as she questioned if this truly was the right choice.
She began practicing the Portuguese phrases she needed in her head. Everyone here speaks English. What am I even doing? If Draco felt her worry he didn’t show it. He walked briskly to the taxi line and opened the door to hold it for her as she slid in.
“Boa noite,” she fumbled. “Can you take us to Estoril? The, erm, Verandas de Sao Pedro in Estoril?”
No response. Panic spread through Hermione’s body as the cab pulled out of the club parking lot. The driver began speaking rapid Portuguese in response. Merlin, no. How? How had Draco and Hermione picked the one cab driver in all of greater Lisbon that did not speak English? That was wildly presumptuous, but she didn't care at the moment.
She looked at him in terror. “Shite. Shite. Shite.” Hermione took three steadying breaths. What was she going to tell them? She was drunk. She promised to get Draco home safely on his first night here. She fancied herself a smart, capable woman able to navigate these situations. She was an Auror for Godric’s sake.
She watched the driver make his way on the Rua d. Marginal toward Estoril. Okay, he had heard that part. They were going in the right direction at least.
“Senhor, por favor, take us to Estoril beach. Praia! Estoril praia.” She grasped for any words she could shout at him to make him understand where they needed to go. All of the information about the surrounding area started leaving her head. What was the chicken restaurant called again?
Draco was sitting, edging closer to her, encouraging her with his hands to continue. Wasn’t the name of the street a month? Some month? Rua 9 de Setembro suddenly flashed in her head.
“Rua 9 de Setembro, obrigada,” she yelled for him to hear her, “by the estação de trem."
The driver noded and signaled in agreement. She looked at Draco and a wave of admiration hit his face before he cracked a wide smile. The two fell into each other laughing.
“Merlin that was close, Granger. I mean, I never doubted you, but I also thought we’d end up in some back alley of Estoril walking home.”
“Remind me to pack Sober Up next time we go out so we can Apparate.” She laughed.
Hermione felt a wave of relief as the cab driver pulled into the familiar neighborhood and parked below the towering flats. Draco paid for the cab and held the heavy wooden entry door.
They were both quiet on the short elevator ride up to the 5th floor. She took out her wand to clear the wards. Hermione felt like her every sense was on fire. It's the adrenaline, she told herself. That was a weird occurrence. You're home safe.
She slipped her shoes off and stunted her walk in the main hallway. “Fuck,” she mumbled to herself. Should she vacate her stuff from the master bedroom? What if Pansy brought André home to the flat? Hermione couldn’t very well be sleeping in there when they arrived home.
She walked slowly to the master bedroom, flipped on the lights and caught her appearance in the row of hallway mirrors. Her dress was too short and her eye make-up too smoky. Pansy had certainly made her up. She made the gut decision to take a quick shower, washing the club off her skin and slipping into her favorite pajamas before grabbing her pillow and meeting Draco in the living room. It seemed he had a similar idea with wet hair wearing thin flannel pants and a short sleeved Slytherin Quidditch tee.
Hermione walked into the guest room she’d spent zero time in thus far. One bed had Draco’s small duffle. She turned back the comforter on the other bed and sat down.
Draco came in as Hermione was reading. He looked briefly at the book. “With that title I honestly wasn’t sure if that was Wizarding or Muggle.”
“Muggle actually. Brazilian. It’s about a young boy on a pilgrimage. I’m starting to wonder though. He just met the 200 year old alchemist. There’s so much in here that’s too close not to question. Maybe he’s a squib,” she sighed, putting the book down on the night table.
Draco got into his bed and turned off the light. Hermione felt the air in the room escaping. She still didn't feel entirely sure how to act around him. They were always surrounded by their mixed Gryffindor-Slytherin cohorts. She knew Draco was empirically attractive. She’d thought so for quite a number of years. She’d just never felt actively attracted to him. Not like tonight. There was no denying that now. From the moment he hugged her at the airport something felt different.
“I can hear you thinking from here, Granger.” He sat up in bed.
“Ha ha, very funny. I’m worried about Pansy,” she lied.
“Parks is a grown woman who can certainly handle herself. I would expect you’d want me to think the same thing about you.”
“I know. You’re right. I should just go to sleep. I’m sure she’ll be home soon.”
He felt so close but she turned over to face the wall. She wasn’t sure how long she could sustain pillow talk. She heard the thud of the front door close and the click of the lock. She and Draco both sprang up.
They turned to sit in the shared space between the beds, their knees barely grazed. She was about to leap from the bed entirely to interrogate Pansy about the rest of the night when Draco snatched her wrist. He held one finger to his lips and she immediately stopped moving. A low moan echoed through the hallway.
“Shh. I told you we have to be quiet. This way.”
She realized Draco was still holding onto her wrist as the two started lightly giggling on their beds. He realized it too, and promptly released her hand. They both got back under their covers and with a silencing charm in place could no longer hear any sounds coming from the master bedroom.
“Goodnight Granger,” Draco whispered.
“Goodnight Malfoy,” she replied back before she let her head hit the pillow to fall instantly asleep.