Disclaimer: Fan made by fans for fans. I do not own these characters; JK Rowling does. Please don't sue.

Summary: Draco and Hermione share a drink. Post-war, series compliant

A/N: Thanks to everyone who read/reviewed/favorited my first two fics!

"I must be drunk," Draco Malfoy thought to himself as he took another sip of his firewhiskey. He looked at the brunette next to him, playing with the straw of whatever fruity girly drink she was drinking. "WE must be drunk," he thought, correcting himself. Why else would he be sitting in a pub, sharing a drink, with Hermione Granger of all people? They hadn't cursed, hexed, or even sneered at each other. Instead, they'd been civil, polite, maybe even nice. It was almost like a date. Okay, maybe not a date. Maybe coffee.

They'd already gone through all the possible small talk; weather, work, catching up on acquaintances they both knew…

"Ron left me," Hermione said suddenly. She started to babble, saying that Ron needed to figure some things out, "find himself", and that he still loved her but that he needed to do, whatever it was he needed to do, alone.

Draco kept to himself and sipped at his drink while she vented to him. He knew she wouldn't cry, but he noticed the tears in her eyes. After a few minutes, she stopped speaking and just stared into her glass.

"He's a fool," Draco said, breaking the silence.

"Excuse me?" she stared at him quizzically.

"Any guy that would leave you is a fool."

Draco turned his head and looked directly into Hermione's eyes. "If you were mine, I'd never let you go."

Draco looked into her warm brown eyes and in that instant he had a premonition of sorts; a future with Hermione Granger. It would be a tumultuous affair, with passionate highs and bitter lows, a crazy rollercoaster of desire and despair. It would be a challenge, for she was Hermione Granger, heroine of the war, beautiful, smart, strong, brave, loyal and good. She would fight him, tooth and nail, but he would win her over. He may be a former Deatheater and her sworn enemy, but he was still a Malfoy. He was rich, handsome, charming and just as smart as she was. He always knew what to do to get what he wanted. And he suddenly wanted her. It didn't matter anymore that she was muggleborn. She had survived the war. Bellatrix didn't break her. Hermione had proven she was worthy of him.

Draco continued to stare at her loveliness while he slowly brought his face closer and closer to hers.

With a gleam in his eye and their lips almost touching, he silently dared her to close the distance between them. Instead, Hermione tilted her head to the side and whispered in his ear, "You hate me."

"I haven't hated you since 6th year of school," he murmured as he turned to nuzzle her neck.

"We'd fight all the time."

"But making up would be glorious," he breathed seductively into her ear. Hermione whimpered at the implication.

"Your family wouldn't approve," she continued.

"They can sod off," he whispered as he inhaled her vanilla scent.

"My friends wouldn't approve."

"They can bloody well sod off too," Draco hissed, a little angry that she'd brought them up.

A tiny smile appeared on her lips, amused by the fact that Harry and Ron still annoyed him. "It would be terrible," she sighed.

"It would be terrible," he agreed as he placed a light kiss under her ear. "But it would be wonderful too. Terribly wonderful…"

"It would be wonderful, wouldn't it, Draco…" she murmured wistfully as she closed her eyes, tilted her head and gave him more access to her neck.

Draco's mind spun with delight as his mouth made its way down Hermione's throat to her collarbone and up the other side. "Yes, it would," he whispered as he nipped at her other ear.

He slowly pulled away to look on her in her vulnerable and carefree state; her somewhat tousled hair; her slightly parted, soft lips; her lightly flushed cheeks; her bittersweet expression… and he suddenly understood something he hadn't before. Their relationship wouldn't be like his flings in the past. Hermione would be special. Their love would be real.

"It would be brilliant," he breathed against her lips as he leaned in to properly kiss her.

But Hermione turned her head and pulled away from him. "But it would end. It always does." Her tear-streaked eyes sought out his as she gazed sadly back at him. She softly said, "We just aren't meant to be."

Hermione watched the light slowly die in Draco's storm grey eyes as he followed their relationship through to its logical conclusion. And she was right, like she always was. It would end. It always does. It would explode from outside forces or it would implode from within. Maybe it would die because they'd rather be somewhat okay alone than miserable together. Or their whirlwind love affair would turn back to bitter hatred and they'd be enemies once more. She would leave. Or he would leave. It doesn't matter. In the end, he wouldn't fight for their love, for them. At that point, he'd be too tired to do so.

Now it's Draco's turn to look away, ashamed with the knowledge that he was a coward; just like Weasley, a fool. "We never had a chance, did we?" he sighed, idly staring into space; mourning a love that was over before it started.

Hermione slowly gathered her things and got up to leave. Her soft lips brushed his pale cheek, startling him out of his stupor. "Thank you," she said.

"Whatever for Hermione?" asked Draco, confusion etched on his face.

"Just… thank you." She gave him a small, sad smile, turned and walked away.

"I'm a bigger fool than Weasley," Draco said to no one in particular as he ordered another fire whiskey. He downed the entire glass in one gulp and ordered another. "He's a fool because he left her. But I'm worse…" His forehead touched the cool, sticky surface before him as he slowly placed his head on the bar. Wistfully, he murmured…

"I didn't love her when I had the chance."