It’s been ten years. Ten years since the last time they spoke. She hasn’t thought about it, not really, and at first she didn’t even notice. She didn’t notice how the bottomless pit inside her stomach, the black hole that’s been eating off of her guts and feelings ever since school, slowly started to close up. Jonathan kept her minds off it; distracted her thoughts when her eyes became distant. Then the kids came along and she just stopped thinking about him completely. Time slips like that sometimes. Ten years.
And now she’s standing here, in the lift, and he’s there too. She’s wearing the bottle green evening gown he stained with red wine the last time they saw each other (but mind you, she did clean it up because it’s such a nice dress and she’s glad that it still fits, even after two child births). Her lips are red as blood, although they won’t be for long, and her eyes are as blue as ever and for a moment she feels like she’s 17 again. The lift doors close and she turns her head. Her mouth opens but no sound escapes; what’s she supposed to say? It’s been ten years. Instead she crosses her arms, sighs, prays that the ride won’t take long.
But is does. Halfway up the seventh level of the Ministry’s headquarters the lift stops and she can feel her heart sinking. A familiar, female voice announces that there’s been a malfunction and that all passengers must stay calm and wait for instructions. Under any other circumstance she’d swear and probably cut the head off whomever happened to be unlucky enough to be in her presence. Not here, not now though. She can’t.
Yet her body moves towards the other. There’s an expression on her face but she doesn’t really know what it’s supposed to say and that’s probably a first, too. The words she speaks don’t matter either, they’re merely the remainder of her daily life; the auto-response that every other individual would be greeted with. Did you do this? Of course he didn’t. Her breath is ragged as her fingers grasp the collar of his shirt. She’s not really aware of it; well, not at first. There’s too much on her mind; too many contradicting feelings. How’s she supposed to react?
And now they’re standing here, the space between them rapidly closing in. Her knee brushes against his leg and electric sparks fly from her fingertips whenever she touches his neck. She can feel his breath on her face; it makes her skin tingle and colours her cheeks red. Her gaze is fixed on his lips. He’s trying to say something but she can’t hear the words. Maybe it’s the wine she drank with Jonathan before the charity dinner; maybe it’s just because it’s been ten years and she can’t really remember anything but the passion in his eyes (when he told her that he hated her). She leans in closer, revels in the familiar rush that’s coursing through her veins whenever she’s this close to him. Her grip on his collar tightens as if she’s afraid he might push her away. There’s barely an inch between them. Her eyes dart up to meet his gaze just as her lips brush against his. It’s the gentlest kiss she’s ever given anyone.
Ten years has passed since their last meeting - where she spat him in the face, and he stained the very same dress she’s wearing, today, ten years later.
He remembers the last words he threw in her face. I hate you. Now is different; all the years of hatred and fighting has slipped to the back of his head - of course he still remembers the burning feeling in his cheeks whenever she managed to humiliate him in front of everyone, still feels the flaming hatred towards the girl - woman. It’s been ten years after all.
So much has happened after they graduated from Hogwarts after the War. A lot of hiding and bearing with hateful comments, but Astoria Greengrass saved him from too much of that; lead his concentration on building a new life that didn’t consist of either Death Eaters or Hazel Moon.
Scorpius is the light of his life even though he is yet not able to utter more than a few words (one of them being daddy). The boy attended the charity dinner with Astoria and him this night, but they went home early and Draco only wanted to do a few check ups on some paperwork before retreating as well.
Therefore he cannot do anything but utter a sigh when none other than Hazel Moon enters the very same lift as himself. He steps away to make the space between them bigger and looks everywhere else but her.
It’s first when the automatic witch suddenly breaks through their uncomfortable silence Draco becomes aware of who is actually trapped inside a lift with him.
He turns halfway around to face the blue eyed woman and blonde eyebrows narrows. She’s obviously accusing him - and he is doing exactly the same. Even after ten years they’re still so much alike.
❝This is your fault isn’t it?❞ he says with gritted teeth.
But Hazel doesn’t answer - instead he is being hauled millimeters towards her by his collar and he doesn’t pull away instantly as he would have done ten years ago.
His hand is gripping her shoulder, pulling her with him as he backs into the lift’s wall; trapping himself between it and her.
Adrenaline is now shooting his veins; what’s going to happen? Will they draw their wands, yell at each other, remain silent or a fourth opportunity, he so suddenly think of?
His hand on her shoulder slips down to her elbow and his eyes is fixed on hers - and she’s looking into his as she always have done; never afraid of starring into grey depths of hatred and jealousy.
He doesn’t think when something soft, slightly wet, presses gently against his lips. He doesn’t think about Astoria, Scorpius or Hazel. His mind is empty and quiet.
The only thing he is focusing on is the blue eyes starring into his grey as his chapped lips returns a kiss.
A kiss from a forgotten enemy.