Disclaimer: The Harry Potter universe and all its lovely characters are not mine.
A/N: Written for the Apples and Quills "Happy Birthday Draco" Fest.
A huge "Thank You" to my lovely beta Katalina_Riddle!
A Surprise to Forget
The loud staccato of incessant knocking pulled her out of a dream.
A muffled voice came from the other side of her locked bedroom door. "Hermione!" yelled one of her best friends-turned-housemates, although she didn't have the wherewithal – nor the interest – to determine to which one the voice belonged.
"Harrumphawah!" she replied, still half asleep. Her hands searched for the nearest item in her vicinity, and her fingers curled into the fabric of her other pillow
The pounding became heavier, more frantic. "Hermione? Are you awake?!"
She threw the pillow violently against the door in response.
"We need you," the other voice said. "We – uh – we did a thing."
Her right eye popped open as her mind booted awake. Whenever one of them did A Thing, it usually meant someone had to go to St. Mungo's with a broken or missing bone.
She sighed as she got up, fumbling for her dressing gown in the dark before heading to the door. "This had better be good," she warned.
When she opened the door, Hermione noticed three things: the wand clutched tightly in Ron's hand; the nervous twitch of Harry's cheek; and the dazed blankness behind Draco's eyes.
Oh, and the strong smell of Firewhisky that hit her like a ton of bricks.
Hermione looked at each of her best friends in turn. "What. Did. You. Do?"
ooOOoo
About thirty minutes ago.
"No way," said one in disbelief.
"Yes," the second one said, smugly.
"So, she really…?" Unable to find the words to express his question, he made a rather rude gesture with his hands.
"Yup." He took another sip of Firewhisky, quite a feat with the broad smirk plastered on his face.
"Wow," the other two said at the same time, drawing the word out slowly.
ooOOoo
"Is this part of the story really necessary?" asked an irritated Hermione.
"We're getting there," whined Harry.
He and Ron sat at the end of her bed. She stood in front of them with her arms crossed, trying to look every inch The Authority whilst clad in a Bert and Ernie pajama set and a matching yellow robe.
Draco wandered the room and picked up random objects. He held each item close to his face, testing it with his fingers, and even sniffing it. When he tried to lick her alarm clock, she grabbed his arm and shoved him between the other two man-children.
"Go on, then," she snapped.
ooOOoo
About twenty-eight minutes ago.
Harry shook his head. "I don't know how you do it, Malfoy. How do you get these perfectly normal women to—" he scrunched his face as his alcohol-addled mind searched for the correct term, "—debase themselves like that for you?"
Ron's snort could be heard above the raucous noise of the pub. "'S'not that hard to figure out, mate," he said. "He's got the money. The hair. The name. The 'I'm a bad boy but you can help me change' personality. The smirk. The eyes—"
"The big cock," Draco added.
"The big co—" Ron stopped abruptly as his brain caught up to his mouth.
Draco chuckled. Harry covered his lips before he spat his drink all over the table.
ooOOoo
"Fast forward, Ronald!"
"I don't know what that means!"
ooOOoo
About twenty-seven minutes ago.
"Seriously, though," badgered a still-confused Harry. "Just, how?"
Draco shrugged. "It's not like I ask them to do any of that. They all – I don't know – volunteer?"
"So lucky," Harry whispered while shaking his head.
"Oy! You're dating my sister, if you remember," Ron said.
"Do you want your sister doing that for me?" he asked.
Ron's cheeks tinged a shade of green.
"So lucky," Harry repeated. "Is that how it's like being single? I mean, being with Gin is great and all, but I feel like – maybe I'm missing something?"
"I know what you mean," Ron said. "Sometimes, I think maybe Lavender and I got back together too soon. She keeps hinting about getting married, and I just pretend I don't understand."
"Easy enough to believe," said Draco. He took a large swig of his drink before saying, "It's all right. Gets boring after a while, dating."
"Does it count as dating if you don't say more than five words to each other all night?" Harry asked.
Ron counted on his fingers to make sure. "Fuck-me-harder-Draco."
"Maybe later, Weasley," he replied.
Ron shook his head. "I don't get it, mate. I don't know how you could be tired of 'dating' around. Trust me, you don't want to be tied down like the two of us."
Draco looked away, his eyes settling on the crowd at the bar. After a moment, he said, "Where's Granger? Why didn't she come out with us tonight?"
Harry blinked slowly. "She's – erm – she's busy."
A scowl formed on Draco's face. "Out on a date with that Boot again?" He spit the name out like it was venom.
"'Course she's not out with Terry," said Ron. "She's too busy getting the house ready for your party tomorrow. Ouch!" He rubbed his shin and glared at Harry. "Bloody hell! What was that for?"
"We're not supposed to say anything!" he hissed.
"Oh. Right. Shite," said Ron.
"A party? She's planning a birthday party?" A grin bloomed on Draco's face. "For me?"
"Yeah, she's been planning it for months! Been pestering us to 'save the date' and all that – Ow! Harry! Quit kicking me!"
"Then stop doing the exact opposite of what we're supposed to be doing!"
"And, what's that?!"
"NOT SAYING ANYTHING!"
ooOOoo
"OW!" Ron covered the back of his head; the attempt was futile.
"Idiot," she said and shoved a finger in his face. "You had one job!"
ooOOoo
About twenty-one(?) minutes ago.
"Seriously, mate, you can't say anything to Hermione," Harry pleaded. "She'll kill us!"
Draco was already weaving through the mass of bodies in the pub to get to the fireplace. Harry and Ron followed close behind.
"Are you trying to stop me, Potter, or egg me on?" he asked, glee apparent in his voice. "Because that seems like icing on the cake. Cherry on a sun—"
Harry grabbed his shoulder and twisted him around. "I mean it," he said. "You can't tell her you know."
"Why not?" Draco asked. He squinted his eyes at Harry as though he was off in the distance instead of almost nose-to-nose. "I asked her weeks ago to have dinner with me on my birthday. She lied to me and told me she already had plans with Boot." Real spit splattered on Harry's face at the name. "She promised me a long time ago that she would never lie to me." He rammed his pointer finger at Harry's chest while his face creased into a dramatic cringe. "A best friend pact, and she broke it! So now, I'm going to go over there, and I'm going tell her that I know she lied—"
"First of all," said Harry, "she lied so your surprise party doesn't get ruined, you prat!"
"And, second of all," Ron jumped in, "you're absolutely trolleyed, so you're not thinking straight. If you talk to Hermione tonight, you're going to regret it in the morning."
"No, I won't!" Draco tried to pull away from Harry's whisky-strengthened grasp.
"We can't let you do that, Malfoy! You're not supposed to know about the party!"
"Well, I already know, so too late." Draco threw him a wicked grin. "What are you going to do? Obliviate me?"
Harry and Ron straightened and turned to each other at the same time. Their eyes met, and they were suddenly more in sync with each other than they have been since the Battle of Hogwarts. As one, they swiveled their heads toward Draco.
Draco's smile fell off his face. "Fuck."
He started stumbling away.
"Stop that blond man!" Ron yelled out to the crowd.
Draco was hindered by the bodies that blocked his way. However, he was nimbler than the other two – also, slightly less drunk – so by the time he reached the hearth, Harry and Ron were several feet behind.
Ron looked over at Harry in a panic. "You've got to do it!" he said.
Harry nodded and aimed his wand at Draco's platinum head. He concentrated and twisted his wrist, yelling out, "Obliviate!"
Draco tumbled to the ground, face-down, like a rag doll.
ooOOoo
"Hermione?" Harry waved a hand in front of her wide, unblinking eyes. He glanced at Ron with concern. "I think we broke her, mate."
ooOOoo
About fifteen minutes ago, probably. It was getting hard to keep track.
"Is he dead?" Ron's voice squeaked.
Harry put a finger on Draco's wrist. He released a bated breath. "No."
"Then, why won't he wake up?"
"I don't know," Harry muttered, working his bottom lip between his teeth. "Let's pick him up."
They each took an arm and threw it over their shoulders, sandwiching Draco.
"Is everything all right?" they heard from behind.
Ron craned his neck around and plastered a smile on his sweaty face. "Hannah!"
She peered at them through slanted eyes. "What's wrong with him?" She nudged her chin at Draco, whose head lolled forward, chin touching his collarbone.
Harry responded nervously. "Oh, you know, he's just completely blotto." He gave her a shaky smile.
"Yeah," Ron assisted. "You know how Draco gets." He performed a drinking motion with his hand.
Hannah raised the tail of a pale eyebrow. "Actually, I don't know. He's the one who usually drinks the two of you under the table."
Ron and Harry shared a terrified look.
An understanding smile formed on Hannah's face. "He's still upset about Hermione going on dinner dates with Terry, then?"
"Uh, yeah," Harry jumped on the topic. "How did you know about that?"
Her eyes rolled heavenward. "I thought everyone knew about it. Except him," she pointed at the man in the middle. "And Hermione, of course. Smartest girl in the world, but my gods, she's dense when it comes to him."
This time, a confused look formed on both men's faces.
"I mean," Hannah continued, "she spent six months planning the man's birthday party! Best friend, my ass. Nobody spends that much time planning an event outside of a wedding."
Ron stared out thoughtfully. "Huh. You know, last year, she gave me my present two weeks too late. Said something about too many Weasley birthdays to keep track of. Gave me a unisex scarf."
"Cool," said Harry forcefully, giving Ron a pointed look. He glanced back at Hannah. "We've really got to get him back home. We'll see you later, Hannah."
"Take care of him," she said over her shoulder as she walked away. "Or, better yet, give him to Hermione, I'm sure he'd love that!" She cackled as she walked back to the bar.
"Let's go," Harry whispered. They huffed as they dragged Draco's limp form to the fireplace.
ooOOoo
Ron and Harry shared worried looks.
"Should—" Ron started, and then leaned over Draco to whisper loudly to Harry. "Should we be doing something? She hasn't blinked in almost five minutes!"
Harry peeked at Hermione from the corner of his eye. "Let's, uh, let's just finish the story," he said with uncertainty.
ooOOoo
Maybe ten minutes ago? It's all a blur now!
Draco was prone on the couch, where they deposited him as soon as they entered the house.
"Oh, gods," said Harry, who sat in the armchair next to Draco. He was doubled over, his face cradled in his hands. "What are we going to do?"
"I don't know. I don't know!" said Ron, hunched over on the floor. He looked up, his face brightening with hope. "Maybe we should try the reverse spell?"
"I don't think that's a good idea," said Harry. "I mean, it's obvious something went wrong when I cast the spell in the first place."
"All right, then we should wake Hermione."
"I like my bollocks where they are, thanks," muttered Harry. He looked at Draco– still breathing, thank Merlin – but, for all intents and purposes, very much dead to the world.
"We've got to do one or the other, Harry," said Ron. "And, for the record, I like my bollocks attached to me, as well."
Harry sighed. "Okay. We should – we should try the reverse spell," he said. "But only the one time."
He stood and lifted his wand, focusing the end on Draco's forehead. The wand started trembling in his hand.
"Wait!" cried Ron. He pressed Harry's wand away from Draco. "Erm, maybe I should do it, mate."
"Good idea," he said, relieved.
Ron pointed his wand and said the reverse spell. A thin, glowing wisp of light grew from the tip and floated toward Draco.
When it touched Draco's skin, it burst into a bright light. Harry and Ron threw their arms over their eyes by instinct. As the light subsided, they blinked rapidly to regain their vision.
Draco had sat up on the couch. He gazed at them, wide-eyed and smiling.
"Oh, thank the gods," said Harry, collapsing on his knees in front of the couch. "I thought I Gilderoy-ed you, for sure!"
"Yeah, that was something else, mate," said Ron. "Let's not ever do that again."
The two of them chuckled, their relief washing over them in waves. They stopped when they realized Draco was neither joining them nor yelling at them for being idiots.
Instead, he continued sitting. And staring. And smiling.
ooOOoo
Which, ten minutes later – give or take – was exactly what he was doing in Hermione's room, completely undisturbed by the commotion happening right next to him.
"Hel – he – help!" Ron coughed out as he flailed his arms. He wheezed. "Help! Me!"
"Trying!" Harry yelled. He had his arms wrapped around Hermione's shoulders as she crouched over Ron on the bed. "She's really strong!"
Hermione threw an elbow back and was rewarded with a satisfying crunch.
"I think she broke my nose!" Harry said nasally.
"You IDIOTS!" she shouted as she wrapped her small hands around Ron's neck. "You thick, blasted morons!"
Harry made a grab at her waist again, found a substantial piece of material to grip, and hauled her off their poor friend.
She floundered about in Harry's arms; he wrapped them tighter around her.
"Hermione! Calm down! Please!" he said in her ear.
Her limbs went limp, but her chest heaved, though more from anger than exertion. In front of her, Draco stared at the display, the bright, inane grin plastered on his face. The corners of her own lips dragged down as the pity in her chest exploded.
"Get out," she said, her voice flat.
Harry's grip around her loosened. "Hermione—"
"Both of you. Get out."
They all froze for a few moments. Harry released her and slowly shuffled to the door; Ron got up from the bed and followed suit.
"Hermione, we're so—"
"Get. Out," she said, not turning around to face them. "I'll take care of him. Just go."
They opened the door in silence and snuck out. Before they closed the door completely, Harry whispered, "We'll be in our rooms if you need us. We're so sorry, Hermione."
"I'll talk to you both tomorrow, when you're sober," she said quietly. "Good night."
The door clicked closed.
She sat down next to Draco on the bed and took his right hand in both of hers.
"Draco?" she said. He continued staring at her without recognition. She sighed. She brought her palm up to cup his cheek, and he closed his eyes at her soft touch. "Let's take you to St. Mungo's."
ooOOoo
Hermione dragged Draco back to her bedroom and slammed the door behind them.
"Nothing they can do about it, huh? 'More spell work might make it worse?'" she growled to herself. "'Wait it out and see?' Really? Is that what they learned at a four-year healer school? 'Wait it out and see?!'" Her voice grew progressively louder until she realized that she was yelling.
She glanced back at Draco, who remained where she had left him by the door.
"I don't suppose you'd like to go home?" she asked, sarcasm dripping from her words. She sighed. "Sorry. I know this isn't your fault."
Hermione scrutinized his face, which looked quite boyish without his cynical smile. "Actually, that's probably not completely true. I'm sure there's a perfectly good reason why those two idiots," – she raised her voice at the word and heard a muffled 'We're sorry!' and 'Love you!' from beyond the walls – "chose to Obliviate you." A small smile formed on her lips. "And, knowing you, you probably deserved it."
He continued to gaze at her dazedly.
Hermione groaned and went over to the door. She grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the bed. "I guess you're staying here with me tonight."
She pushed down on his shoulder until he sat down on the mattress. She kneeled, pulling off his shoes and socks and setting them beside the nightstand.
Her hand reached up to the collar of his shirt. Her fingers hovered over the buttons. "Should I—"
She glanced at his eyes, still vacuous and blank.
"Better not," she muttered. Hermione gently laid him on his back and lifted his legs up on the mattress, tucking him under her comforter. She extinguished the light as she tiptoed to the other side of the bed and slipped in beside him.
She nestled against her pillows on the other side of the large bed, leaving enough space between them so they didn't touch. His shadowy profile stood out in the dim glow of the streetlight that filtered through her thin curtains.
"Of all the times I'd imagined us in bed together, I never thought this was how it would go," she whispered.
She waited in the dark for a response that never came.
ooOOoo
The first thought she had when she woke up was that her hair was being caressed; the gentle rhythm of fingers stroking her curls almost lulled her back to sleep.
The second thought was the realization of to whom those fingers belonged. Her eyelids cracked open, and she found a pair of gentle grey eyes gazing back at her.
"Good morning," he said, a grin on his lips.
The softness of his tone drew out a bemused smile on her face. "Good morning, Draco," she said.
His hands froze mid-stroke, and his dark blond eyebrows knit together. "Draco?" he asked.
She sighed. The third thought she had that morning was that Draco wasn't himself quite yet.
"Your name. Draco," she said.
"Huh." An incredulous expression formed on his face. "You know, I've been lying awake for the past twenty minutes, and not once did I think, 'I wonder what my name is?' I suppose people don't often lie about asking themselves who they are," he mused.
She laughed noiselessly. "What have you been thinking about, then?"
The smile on his face grew radiant. "How I got to wake up next to such a beautiful woman."
For one second, all her muscles froze. In the next moment, she jumped out of bed, nearly falling as her legs got tangled up in the sheet. As her feet regained their balance, she combed her fingers through her hair to twist it up in a bun.
Draco sat up slowly. "Did I say something wrong?"
"No!" She took a calming breath and tried again, with a milder tone. "No, you didn't do anything wrong."
Draco slid out of bed, keeping a careful eye on her. "Are you sure? You seem really upset. Am I not supposed to be here?" His eyes broadened to two large circles. "Did I – Did I do something—"
She gestured for him to stop. "Not at all!"
"Okay," he said slowly. "I'm sorry about, uh—" He waved his fingers in a brushing motion. "I probably shouldn't have done that. I figured since we were in the same bed, we were…together?"
Hermione shook her head violently. "We're not together."
"You're not my girlfriend? Wife?"
"No," she peeped, blushing at the labels.
"Then, who are you?"
"Hermione." She cleared her throat. "I'm Hermione Granger."
"Hermione Granger, my…?" He unfurled his fingers, signaling her to fill in the blank.
"Best friend." She emphasized the second word.
"Oh," he said. His eyes dropped to the unmade bed. "I don't suppose we're the kind of friends who share a bed on a semi-regular basis?" His lopsided grin held a tint of mischief.
"Of course not," she said, as she folded her arms under her chest.
"Good."
Her heart sank at the relieved expression on his face.
"Because I would have been very upset if we were that kind of friends," he said, "and I couldn't remember a single second of it."
Her heart shot up to her throat, and her cheeks felt like they were on fire.
"Hermione."
A strangulated sound escaped her throat.
"Breathe."
She closed her eyes and took an exaggerated lungful of air. When she opened them again, Draco was standing in front of her, his face mere inches from hers.
He lowered his head to meet her gaze. "Okay?"
Unable to find her voice, she nodded.
"I'll get out of here, so you can get some privacy."
"Thanks," she forced out. "Will you please wait for me in the kitchen? Harry and Ron should be up by now."
He frowned. "Harry and Ron?"
"Our other best friends," she said.
"Ah."
They stared at each other for a moment longer before he moved towards the door. "I'll see you out there," he said with a wink. He stepped out and shut the door behind him.
Hermione collapsed on the bed. She usually had no problems being around Draco. Growing up with two male best friends, she was comfortable with him and treated him as she did Harry and Ron.
But now, with Draco not remembering who she was and seeming to direct all his flirtatious energy on her, she was at a loss. She had seen droves of women unable to withstand his charm, and she wasn't sure that she would fare any better – particularly since she already had feelings for him.
These past few minutes they were together in private was excruciating; trying to act normal around him in public was going to be next to impossible.
Hermione started laughing uncontrollably at the thought of throwing a surprise party for a man who didn't even remember it was his birthday today.
ooOOoo
Later that afternoon, Hermione strolled into the living room and stumbled upon Draco setting Ron's favorite work boots on fire.
"Draco! Stop!" She rushed to his side and yanked the wand out of his hand. She threw a quick Aguamenti on the smoldering pile, the fumes of burning leather and rubber almost choking her.
"Wha – Why did you do that?" she asked, grabbing his forearms and forcing him to meet her eyes. Had the spell affected his personality or logical thinking? Fear gripped her throat at the thought of his cognitive abilities being permanently damaged.
When she saw his eyes – clear and sharp and still very much Draco – she released the breath that felt trapped in her chest.
"Sorry about that," he said, shifting his arms to hold her hands. "I just – well it's strange, but I saw those boots on the floor, and I had a sudden urge to set them on fire. Am I usually such a pyromaniac?"
Hermione shook her head. "Not unless it's some secret you've been harboring from me all these years."
He frowned at the mess on the slightly singed wooden floor. "Those didn't belong to you, did they? I'll replace them, if you'd like."
"No," she said. "They were Ron's."
"He's the ginger one?"
She pursed her lips to keep from smiling and encouraging him. "Yes."
Draco contemplated the small mound of ash and shrugged. "Oh. Never mind, then."
ooOOoo
She lingered near the wall as their guests milled about in the living room. All of them were advised about Draco's condition, so the surprise party had evolved into an informal Hogwarts reunion – a welcome event, seeing as the further they delved into adulthood, the less chances they had to hold such gatherings.
As the guests enjoyed the party, her other two best friends wandered the room. They wore white tuxedo jackets and carried trays of canapes as they waited on the guests – one of the many punishments to be doled out during the next several months for last night's cock-up.
She took a small sip of white wine as she glanced at Draco out of the corner of her eye. He had rarely left her side throughout the party, and for that, she was glad. Although bits of memory had started to come back, the majority were still missing. He claimed that some faces looked familiar, but the names still escaped him.
Their more playful friends had done their best to weave outrageous stories to trick Draco.
ooOOoo
About twenty minutes earlier.
"You were a pop singer," Blaise said. "Though you only really made it in Japan."
Draco gave Hermione a questioning look. She shook her head. "Impossible. You're a complete snob, and the only genre you deem as music is Italian opera."
Good-natured laughter spread through the group, though a few nodded their heads in agreement.
"You backpacked through America and got 'discovered' when you were in the queue at Starbucks. There are billboards of you all over Los Angeles in Calvin Klein 'tighty-whiteys,'" said Ginny.
"Hmm, me – an underwear model? Now that sounds plausible," Draco said dryly.
Hermione snorted. "You don't wear white briefs for underpants." Their friends 'oohed' and jeered as she realized her mistake. "Not that I know what you wear under your clothes! I just imagined – I mean – " Her face fell in her hands as it burned with embarrassment. She peeked through her fingers at Draco, who was smiling at the drink in his hand.
"You never had time to be an underwear model," said Theo. Hermione gave him a thankful smile for changing the subject. "You and I were always too busy competing in the all-male ballroom circuit. We've been world champions for the past three seasons!"
Draco raised an eyebrow at Hermione.
"I'm pretty sure that's not true, either," she said. "Although, now that I think about it, I don't know if I've ever seen you dance. Not sure if you even know how."
Draco tilted his head as if to analyze the music playing in the background. He set his drink on a tray as Harry passed them, and he held his hand out in her direction.
"Let's find out, shall we?"
With a shy smile, she took his hand, and he pulled her into his arms. Their friends stepped back and gave them space. She ignored their knowing glances and devious smiles as she and Draco swayed to the slow beat.
ooOOoo
Draco was having a good time, suggested by the smile that played on his face, when his posture stiffened. He narrowed his eyes at something across the room, and Hermione followed his gaze to a newly-arrived guest.
He leaned over and whispered in her ear, "Who is he? And why do I feel like punching him in the face?"
Confusion flooded her mind as she glanced again at the door. "Who? Terry Boot? Why would you want to punch Terry?"
"I have no idea." His hands curled into tight fists at his sides. "I just do."
Hermione put a calming hand on his arm. "Well, I wish you wouldn't. He's the one who helped me put this party together, you know – we met up several times over the past few months to plan this out. Terry's got a lot of connections. He's the one who hired the caterer, the bakers, DJ…everything you see at this party that wasn't already in the house, he made sure it got here."
Draco's frown remained, though his fingers slowly relaxed. "Still." He cleared his throat. "Probably better if I stay away from him tonight."
She nodded and slid her hand down to the crook of his elbow. He inched closer to her, and they stayed connected as they made their rounds to the rest of their guests.
ooOOoo
Midway through the night, the music cut off, and the lights were dimmed low.
"What's this?" Draco asked as he turned toward her.
Hermione grinned. "It's still your birthday, Draco. Even if you can't quite remember."
Harry and Ron wheeled a massive cake out of the kitchen and placed it in front of them.
Draco counted the large candles. "At least I know how old I am now," he said.
She stepped away as the crowd gathered around him. She grabbed the camera she left on the bookshelf as the group finished singing the birthday song.
"Make a wish and blow out the candles!" Seamus yelled out.
Draco took a deep breath. Before he could release it, his face crumpled, and his left hand clutched his temple.
For a long, torturous moment, Hermione felt like her heart stopped beating. Then, Draco slowly released his breath, and his face relaxed. When he lifted his eyes, the soft glow of the candlelight revealed something that made her heart dance with joy: recognition.
Her mouth opened, though no sound came out. He answered her unspoken question with a quick nod.
"You okay, mate?" asked Blaise, clapping him on the shoulder.
"Yes," Draco murmured. "Now, about that wish…" He bowed his head. Before he blew out the candles, he raised his eyes to meet hers once more. This time, when the light shone in his grey eyes, they revealed more than recollection.
His eyes were warm with affection – and something else, a hint of an emotion that made her heart sprint. He blew out the candles, leaving the room painted in shadows.
As their friends cheered, she whispered, "Happy birthday, Draco."
FIN
A/N: Thanks for reading! Prompt: Hermione and Draco as best friends. Cheers to Apples and Quills and daswhoiam for putting this fest together!
Reviews are appreciated!
