Never Been Kissed Like That

NEVER BEEN KISSED LIKE THAT

Chapter Thirteen:

"Happy Birthday, Isabelle"

He stepped out of the fireplace to be greeted by a pair of angry grey eyes matching his own.

"Where have you been? I thought you'd never arrive on time. Do you know what time it is?"

Draco avoided his mother's gaze and walked towards the bathroom. "I'm going to take a shower and dress up," he said.

Narcissa eyed her son carefully and drew near to him. Lifting his pale chin with her hand, she took a look at his avoiding face. There were blue circles under his eyes, and he looked as if he had slept in his clothes, which were Muggle.

"What's wrong, Draco?" she asked.

The young man looked at his mother and smiled sadly. "Nothing, mother. Everything's ok. I'm just a bit tired," he lied.

"The reception starts in one hour, and Isabelle has been asking for you the whole day. You were nowhere to be found. I think she's quite anxious about the whole engagement announcement." She sighed and looked at the young man in earnest. "Where have you been? You were supposed to come directly to Paris last night, and instead you arrive not one hour before the whole event, looking like a complete mess." She was not using a patronizing tone, but rather one of concern.

"I... I was thinking," he finally said. It was not false, for he had been wandering through London all night, fighting not to drink himself into oblivion and making up his mind. He had never really taken the time to admire the Muggle part of the city, his steps echoing in the deserted streets. Morning had surprised him crouched under the shade of one of the lions at Trafalgar Square, a Warming Charm keeping him from freezing. Watching tourists feeding bread chunks to the pigeons, he had lost track of time, only to remember when his stomach had growled audibly from hunger.

Not that all the thinking had led him to any conclusion. He was even more confused than the previous night.

"I lost the Portkey I had booked, so I had to Floo here. You know how crowded it is at the international hub, so it took me quite a while. I'm sorry; I'll be ready in a few minutes."

Narcissa nodded and let him go, but her heart clenched with worry. She had only seen that same forlorn look in her son's eyes once, the day Lucius had died.

*****

"And then she said, 'If you ever want people to take you seriously, you must keep a professional and serious appearance,'" Ginny said in fake falsetto.

"Yeah, bet she thinks lime green robes and fuchsia-coloured nine-inch nails look very professional," Hermione snorted.

"You've no idea how much I wanted to make a snide remark, honestly. But it's less than two months, so I better shut up and let her go on with her ramblings, or else I'll end up strangling her gold-covered neck." Ginny made the movement of her hands squeezing the life out of an imaginary person. "Thank Merlin she's out for the weekend. If I had to hear her once again boasting about how she was invited to a reception at the French Embassy, I would have resigned from work."

"Oh, Gin, don't be so mean. I guess she was just thrilled she was finally actually invited to an event, instead of having to bug her way in," she snickered.

"Yeah, that's right, though I don't really think the French Minister of Magic personally invited Rita Skeeter to his party. She just happens to be engaged to one very influential businesswizard, who by chance is invited to the event."

"Want some more stracciatella ice cream?" Hermione was spooning the remnants of the one gallon bucket they had been feeding on.

Ginny patted her belly and shook her head. "No thanks. I think I've had enough ice cream and chocolate for the rest of my life. There's nothing like burying your frustrations under half a ton of sweets." She regretted the words the moment they left her mouth, for the look on Hermione's face suddenly changed, and she let the spoon fall into the ice cream. "Sorry," she added.

"It's ok, Gin, it's not as if I didn't see it coming," she sighed. "Who was I kidding? He's Draco Malfoy, after all. Time passes and people change, but some things remain always the same. Besides, it's not as if there was anything going on between us, really." She waved her hand dismissively. "Just a few shared moments doesn't make a relationship... It doesn't mean that I... in such short time... " She took a deep, shaky breath and looked up, not wanting the tears to spill.

"Hermione." Ginny reached to her friend and hugged her, patting her curls softly.

"I feel so stupid," she choked. "For a fleeting moment, I felt, I saw... I thought he felt the same. I've made a fool of myself."

"Don't say that, Hermione," she withdrew from her friend to look her in the eye. "The only fool here is him, if he can't tell a good thing when it's in front of him."

"Thanks Ginny, you're a good friend." Hermione wiped a treacherous tear away and smiled at the red-haired girl. "Now go, I know you have a date with Harry, and I don't want you to be late because of me. I'll be ok, just go and have fun."

The other girl lifted herself from the couch and put on her cloak. "All right, but if you need anything don't hesitate to owl me; I'll be here quicker than you can say Snitch."

Hermione rolled her eyes. Why did everything have to relate to Quidditch with the Weasleys? When the other girl left, she promptly stepped into her pyjamas and resumed her place by the couch. She had tons of chocolate; Top Gun, Casablanca, and Pretty Woman waiting to be cried over; and a furry tabby cat to stroke that worshiped its owner. Was there any other better plan for a Saturday night?

*****

"Oh, cher Draco, mon fil! Lovely reception, isn't it?" Greeted Mr. Durand with his full-sized politician smile. He grasped Draco by the arm and took him aside.

"Where's my soeur? I 'aven't zeen Isabelle ze 'ole evening, and you've been late too. What are you two playing at? Giving ze Minister a heart attack, hm?" he said in an undertone. "Bonsoir Mme. Maxime, vous êtes très élégant ce soir," the Minister said enthusiastically to a huge witch Draco remembered from the Triwizard Tournament.

"You better go looking for 'er, for I will be making ze announcement of your engagement in zirty minutes. Ah, the British Ambassador 'az chust turned up," he said, looking over Draco's shoulder.

"Parfait, parfait. It'll be ze ideal occasion to start talking about future alliances, now zat you're going into politics too. Bon, don't look at me like zat; did you zink Isabelle waz going to 'ide such a secret from 'er own fazer? Don't worry, I wont zay anyzing yet, but it'll be extremely beneficial, you being married wiz my daughter. Allez-toi, find Isabelle!" He pushed Draco aside and opened his arms in welcome of the British diplomat.

Draco turned and almost bumped into a grinning witch with jewelled spectacles that looked faintly familiar. He had no time for pleasantries, so he scurried past her and went looking for Isabelle; after all, he wanted to talk to her, despite her annoying father's orders. He had an idea of where she could be, so he pushed his way towards the less inhabited branch of the Presidential Palace.

He had been right, for he found her leaning on a balcony on the third floor, the furthest place from the reception downstairs. She was gazing at the clear, cloudless sky, the pale light of the moon reflected in her features. She looked stunning in her pale blue, strapless robes. It was then, looking at that beautiful woman by the balcony, that a decision was made.

He felt a wave of apprehension invade his insides before walking to her. "Isabelle," he called.

Isabelle turned on her heels, startled. Her eyes were red and puffy, and she was clutching a white, wrinkled handkerchief in her hand, twisting it nervously.

"Draco!" she said, not moving from her position. Then, calmer, she added, "I meant to talk to you, but I couldn't find you anywhere."

"I know. I wanted to talk to you too." He took a deep breath; dread spreading through his very core while the next words formed in his mouth. "Isabelle, I think we shouldn't marry."

That was it; he had finally said it. He waited for her to explode, to yell at him, to try to convince him, to slap him, even. He was not at all prepared for her actual reaction, when she flew into his arms and started crying. He just hugged her back, unsure how to act. Isabelle had never been this emotional with him normally, but this was not a normal situation, after all.

After a few minutes, her sobs subsided and she pulled back from him. Her face was stained with tears and her make-up ruined, but she was smiling at him.

"Isabelle, I'm so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you." Draco started.

"Shh, shh, it's all right, Draco. I understand," she hushed him, passing her hand through his hair.

"No, you don't. I wanted this to work; I thought I needed it."

"No, Draco, listen to me. I don't want to marry you." She looked at him with her large blue eyes full of sincerity.

He blinked and opened his mouth to retort something, her words still processing in his mind. "You don't... you don't want to marry me?"

Isabelle shook her head. "I know we're perfect for each other, and that we get on very well, but... I'm not prepared for a long-term commitment."

"I see," he said dumbly. He was still in shock.

Isabelle placed her hands on his shoulders, and he circled her waist unconsciously with his arms, a familiar gesture they had repeated so many times. "I wanted it to work, but there was always this feeling nagging at the back of my head. Like..."

"Like there was something missing," he finished.

"Exactly."

"How long?" he asked.

"I don't know," she shrugged. "I guess it's been going on for more than a year. Then you returned to England, and it got worse. I discovered another life, a new world full of possibilities, and I found myself missing you less and less every day.

"These years with you have been fantastic, and I still love you. But now I think it's time I lived my life on my own; I guess it's just what I must do."

Draco nodded. "I feel so stupid. I should have known how you felt. I guess it wouldn't help to say I'm an insensitive git," he smiled. "I still care very much for you, you know, even if we don't belong together."

"I know Draco. I don't think any of us wanted this."

They fused in a tight embrace, sharing with each other the feeling of goodbye and the hope of a new beginning. It was a sad moment, but each felt content in the arms of the person they had shared so much with for so long.

"I'm sorry I'm not in love," Draco said croakily into her head.

Isabelle lifted her hands and cupped his face, bringing it level with hers. "But you are, Draco Malfoy," she said softly. "Only it is not with me."

The significance of her words struck him like lightning, his eyes widening to the size of saucepans. He had never given name to the pressing feelings in his chest, and now here was the girl he was supposed to marry, telling him what he had kept denying all along. "How did you...?" he managed.

Isabelle pressed her full lips into a fine line, her thin brows furrowed. "I don't know. The look in your eyes; you had that strange light that was not there before. I could feel it in your kiss, too, like your sentiment was somewhere else."

He closed his eyes in contrition. "I'm sorry, Isabelle. I didn't, she's not what you think..."

"It's ok, Draco, I don't want to know." She let down her arms and separated from him. "We must get going."

"Who's going to tell your father?"

"Oh, I guess I must. Don't want you to live as a eunuch for the rest of your life," she smiled.

"No, we definitely don't want that."

She pulled out her wand and scrubbed her face clean of the remaining tears and mascara. With her hand on his arm, they descended the stairs together towards the Reception. At the base of the staircase, he turned to her and gave her a reassuring smile.

"Ready?" he asked.

She merely nodded, and they proceeded to the ballroom. "Draco," she clasped his arm tightly.

He looked at her and knew what she was asking for, before entering a new phase of their lives. He leaned in and took her lips in a final, goodbye kiss, pouring in all the feelings and moments shared together, along with his eternal thankfulness for the girl that had shown him what he wanted in his life.

They entered the ballroom together, everybody facing the scenario at the far end of the room. A short, stocky man with an open grin stood there, the French Minister of Magic, in the middle of a speech. His grin widened when he caught a glimpse of the couple entering the room.

"Uh-oh. Non, papa." Draco heard Isabelle murmur under her breath. It was already too late for that.

"Ladies and Zhentlemen, witches and wizards," he said in his magically amplified voice, "let me introduce you to my daughter, Mademoiselle Isabelle Durand, and her fiancé, Mr. Draco Malfoy." He paused for effect, the oohs and aahs booming through the room. "May zis engazhement be an example of a large and long-lasting alliance wiz our sister country, England."

Draco and Isabelle immediately became the spotlight, the crowd surrounding and congratulating the couple. She took a firm grip on Draco's hand, and they moved to a corner of the room, disappearing into a door leading to the kitchens.

"Young love, zey're so temperamental," Mr. Durand said to the assembled group of guests.

*****

"You can leave from the back door," Isabelle said to Draco when they reached the kitchens. There was a large cake covered with pink icing; some elves were giving it the last touches.

Draco stopped short, making Isabelle stumble behind him. "I almost forgot. Happy birthday, Isabelle."

She gave him a small smile and eyed the gigantic cake.

"I can stay, and we can sort this mess out together," he offered.

"No, I prefer you to go. It'll be much easier to explain if you're not around. You know how he is; he'll try to put all the blame on you. He had many expectations of his own about, you know, us," she said sadly.

Draco opened the door and peered outside. A slight breeze tumbled across the trees; the night was clear and cool.

"Don't Apparate until you're outside the garden, the guards are up," she smoothed the creases in his robes. Draco merely nodded and walked towards the gates.

"Draco!" she called after him. He turned one last time to see Isabelle standing by the service door. "Make her happy, will you?"

"I'll try," he sighed.

"You'll have to do more than try. Just follow your heart." She smiled at him one last time and disappeared behind the door.

Follow my heart. Funny, Draco thought. I'll just try to see what is left of it. He Disapparated to the International Hub with a loud crack.

*****

The weather conditions were extremely different in England from France. While in Paris the temperature was somewhat cool and dry, all hell was breaking loose in London.

Even though chilly rain was pouring in buckets from the sky, Draco went walking from his house to Hermione's apartment, to provide him with some time to think what he wanted to say.

He was frozen and soaked to the bone and still clueless as to how to proceed. What the hell, he was completely, utterly terrified. He had reached his destination.