DISCLAIMER - - All I wanted for my birthday is the rights to Harry Potter. But alas, my birthday came and went, but no rights to Harry Potter. Or money from it. Perhaps next year.
A/N - - thanks go out to the wonderful BuffyXO who beta'd this story for me, and to myself, as I have cleaned it up even further now that I'm posting it again. Any remaining mistakes are mine, all mine, I claim them for myself.
Okay, so this is NOT a dark fic, but it was written before DH. It is HBP compliant and there is a war going on, so some not-so-nice things will happen, and there will be warnings at the beginning of each chapter to let you know about it and warnings surrounding the offending paragraphs so as to easily skip over it if you so choose, even though by my standards, none of it is so bad. My standards may not be yours, though. There are mentions of Hermione with someone other than Draco, but no details. This fic is finished, so there's no need to worry on that account.
Chapter 1 Snap Decisions
Hermione Granger bustled through the busy streets of Muggle London, bundled up to withstand the frigid January temperatures. The snow that was predicted had yet to arrive, but one look skyward left no doubt in anyone's mind that the clouds would burst, and sooner rather than later.
She was halfway home when her attention, along with that of many of the other passersby, was drawn to a homeless man staggering on the walk. A raspy voice was coming from his throat in a mantra: "Nobody's safe. There's no where to hide ..." A few people jostling by Hermione could be heard muttering under their breath about "Those drunken bums." Just as she was passing the man, unfortunately catching a whiff of his stink on the air, he stopped screaming. Instead he started talking quietly to himself about "Stupid Muggles."
At the word "Muggle," Hermione froze and turned to look at the man. He was wearing shoes with the sole of the right foot coming undone, his jeans were soiled and worn and he wore no coat, only a hooded sweatshirt that looked as though it used to be some middle shade of blue. Every exposed inch of skin was chapped to a dull pink from being exposed for a prolonged period of time, though the colour was hardly noticeable under the grime that coated his flesh. Her eyes moved up to his face, taking in his cracked and bloody lips. A long festering gash made its way from the left corner of his mouth to the bottom of his ear. But it was when she met his gaze that she was taken aback. His eyes were a dull grey, showing only hopelessness within their depths. From her peripheral vision, she finished taking in his stringy, silver-blond hair falling to the bottom of his shoulders, the colouring barely recognizable any longer.
"Malfoy?" she whispered to herself in shock. Everyone had believed him dead since his failure to kill the headmaster. His whole body stiffened as he read her lips. His eyes narrowed in suspicion as he tried to place the woman in front of him. She knew that he wouldn't recognize her, as she had made it a rule to never leave her townhouse alone without at least a couple of Glamour Charms. Today, her dirty blonde hair stuck out of her cap, falling over her winter jacket and scarf, and her blue eyes were covered with a pair of nondescript glasses. Just enough of a touch to change her appearance, but keep her looking quite average in every way so as to not draw attention from any wandering supporters of You-Know-Who.
In that thirty seconds the two were staring at each other, Hermione came to a decision. Unbeknownst to anyone at the moment, this decision would have far reaching repercussions; not only for these two, but also for many of those Hermione had gotten to know throughout the previous eight years, and even the entirety of the wizarding world. She walked up to the homeless man, stopping a foot or so away from him. "Draco?" she implored, her voice full with compassion.
"Who are you and what do you want? How do you know me? Because I certainly don't know you!" he snapped at her. They were attracting onlookers, though no where near as many as his spectacle of a few minutes past.
"Yes, Draco, you do know me, but I'm wearing glamours. It isn't safe to go out as oneself in today's climate. I am going to take you back to my house, so you can get a decent meal and a shower. I will help you with some of your obvious medical needs, but I will not tell you who I am until we are home." She told him all this in a soft and soothing voice to try and get his guard somewhat down to let her help him.
His eyes still contained suspicion as he glared down at her. "Why should I trust you?"
"I can't answer that right now, but instead let me ask you a question. I have no idea what you have been through over the last two and a half years, but, right now, you are faced with a choice. Trust me. Take me at my word, or you can stay here on the streets." As she finished this pronouncement, the sky finally opened up all at once in a haze of big, fat snowflakes.
"And when all of these promises have been fulfilled?"
"We'll cross that bridge when we get there, but at the very least come and stay for the night out of the cold."
He stood there for what seemed to be and eternity pondering the matter before he gave her one nod. "Lead the way."
He followed her to an empty alleyway a little ways away from where they were standing. "I live at 249 Silas Street. Concentrate on that address while I Apparate us there." She then held her breath and wrapped her arms around him before they disappeared.
When Draco next opened his eyes, he was located in a fair sized lounge that was decorated in an ocean theme, the walls a grey blue color and the carpeting and furniture just a few shades darker. The lamps and candles throughout the room looked to be made of seashells and the walls held magical paintings of waves that either lapped at beaches or crashed against cliffs.
After removing her jacket, scarf and hat she gestured for him to follow her. Instead he stayed where he was, stared at her, and asked, "Who are you?" She sighed and pulled out her wand, pointing it at herself saying the counter charms for the glamours. "Granger?" he inquired incredulously.
"Yes. Now if you follow me I'll show you the bathroom. Everything else can wait until later."
He stood there gaping at her for a moment before the Malfoy sneer made its presence known. "And why should I accept help from a lowly Mudblood like you?"
Hermione rolled her eyes at him before answering. "No one's making you. I just thought perhaps you could use a shower, change of clothes and a warm place to sleep. If not, you're free to go. Besides, it's not like it looked as though anyone else is willing to put up with you."
He sighed, showing the defeat that had been in his eyes ever since he recognized her. "Thank you." She lifted an eyebrow at his thanks, as it was not something she ever expected to hear from him, but she chalked it up to all the etiquette lessons he must have had as a child. Turning around, she led him out of the room and up the stairs to a hallway lined with closed doors. She opened up the last door on the right to a medium-sized bathroom.
"Towels are in that cupboard. Leave your clothes outside the door and I'll replace them with some of Harry's... you're a bit skinnier than him but they should do. Take your time; I'll be downstairs in the kitchen making dinner if you need anything." She could see that he was a bit miffed at having to wear something that belonged to Harry Potter, but he just nodded at her. She turned around and went across the hall to her room to change clothes and wash up after touching him in her own bathroom.
As she made chicken noodle soup from her mother's secret recipe and toasted sandwiches, she thought about how her plans for at least the rest of the day, if not longer, had just drastically changed. She had been planning on making another batch of Dreamless Sleep for the Order, but now she was curious to find out where Draco had been, and what had happened to him. Though, she really did doubt that he would tell her and she had no intention on prying or bringing up the subject herself.
It was an hour after he had gone into the shower that Draco resurfaced in the entryway to the kitchen. He was leaning against the pole that separated the half-wall from the entrance with his arms crossed over his chest, awestruck at the sight of the girl that he had looked down upon from the moment he met her. She was swaying around in the kitchen with her eyes closed and singing along to a radio in the corner of the room. She would never be able to sell any records with her voice, but she could carry a tune. Even he could tell that she sounded better singing along to this than she would most other genres of music. She sang:
"Spend all your time waiting
For that second chance
For a break that would make it okay
There's always some reason
To feel not good enough
And it's hard at the end of the day
I need some distraction
Oh beautiful release
Memories seep through my veins
Let me be empty
And weightless and maybe
I'll find some peace tonight
In the arms of the angel
Fly away from here
From this dark cold hotel room
And the endlessness that you fear
You are pulled from the wreckage
Of your silent reverie
You're in the arms of the angel
May you find some comfort here."
As she was singing, she lifted her arms up to run her fingers through her long, sleek curls. Her black, baby doll tee with an emblem of "Orgy" across the chest rode up to show off her flat stomach and the silver lightening bolt belly button ring that fell to just above the ridge of her hip-hugging, faded blue jeans that flared out at the bottom and reached the floor since she was only wearing socks and needed the extra lift from shoes to keep them from dragging.
He watched her, and looked at her properly for the first time. No one would ever refer to her as breathtakingly beautiful, but she was far from ugly with her round chin and petite nose with a smattering of freckles. While he couldn't see her eyes at the moment, he remembered them from before he took his shower and they were by far her most outstanding feature, maybe her only outstanding feature. But that was beside the point. Her eyes were such a pure brown, there were no hints or traces of any other color within their depths; they were so full of life and an underlying determination. He shook his head to try and clear these thoughts of her. "Orgy, Hermione?" he drawled out in a voice of Malfoy-past.
She jumped at the sound and turned to face him. "They're a Muggle band. You shouldn't sneak up on people, you know. And did you just call me by my first name?"
"Ah, but that would take the fun out of it. What was that you were singing to?"
"Angel, by Sarah McLaughlin, but you haven't answered my question."
"Yes, I called you Hermione. It is your name, and I am staying in your house. It only seems appropriate."
She glanced away, nodding her head in agreement although she was embarrassed that he caught her singing. She usually only sang in private, not being overly confident in her abilities in the area. She motioned to the table she had just finished setting in invitation. As he sat down, she brought over a plate of toasted sandwiches and ladled some soup into each of their bowls before returning the pot to the stove. Draco ate ravenously and she wondered how long it had been since his last meal. She was amazed at what a good, hot, long shower could do for a person. While his skin still had that pinkish tinge to it, he was clean of all dirt and grime and his hair was back to its normal color. That in itself made such a huge difference. But that gash still looked pretty bad.
As soon as they were both done she cleared the table and poured the extra soup into a container and placed it in the fridge. Then she said, "Now let's see what we can do to fix you."
"How are you going to do that?"
His tone wasn't quite a sneer but she could tell that he was trying to demean her and coming up short. She just ignored the jibe and answered the question. "Seventh year I opted to not be Head Girl. Instead I took on an internship with Madame Pomfrey and learned the basics of healing and some specific spells. She thought I may need to know about those things, what with Harry being my friend. I also have a potions lab here so I can brew Healing Potions and such for the Order."
"You? Have a potions lab?" She nodded her head but when she didn't expand, he continued on. "Where did you get the money for all this, Hermione?"
Her face scrunched up as though it was a question she didn't want to think about, but she still told him. She knew if she didn't, he would keep hounding her about it, so she explained. "A couple of years ago my parents were killed. Between selling off their dentistry and the house, as well as the life insurance, and the investments I've made, I have quite a bit of money. I'd rather have my parents, though." The last sentence trailed off, and he could see the sadness in her face and realized that he didn't want to see her sad. He mentally slapped himself for going soft while stuck in the Muggle world. Sure, he was homeless there but at least people didn't actively try killing him. "But as I was saying, let's see what we can do for you," Hermione said as she came out of her stupor and led him back upstairs.
She opened the door to the room next to hers, revealing a makeshift infirmary. There were two hospital beds, bright lights, and one wall was shelved with potions and medical texts, wizard and Muggle alike. "Sit," she ordered.
He sat on the closest bed, his eyes taking in the room. He asked, "Why do you have an infirmary?"
"It comes in handy with Harry and Ron. And sometimes Remus as well."
"Why?"
"Because there's a war going on, if you haven't noticed." He glared at her in response but let her lean in to look at his face. She asked, "How did this happen?"
"I'd rather not talk about it." She just shrugged her shoulders in a manner that exuded uncaring as she went over to the shelves and found a particular jar.
"This is going to sting," she told him as she uncorked the bottle and poured some of the cream it contained into her palm. She re-corked it and put the bottle back down on the side table. Dabbing her index and middle fingers into the goo in her other palm, she brought the fingers up to massage it into the gash. He pulled away, wincing at the initial pain but let her continue with her work. When she had covered it with the ointment, she sat down on the other bed, crossing her legs in front of her. "Now we wait five or ten minutes for it to finish cleaning the wound properly and I can close it up. I have a potion you can use for the scar but I don't think it will go all the way away, what with how infected it got and how deep it is."
"I guess that's better than oozing puss all over my face." She gave him a look of disgust and leaned back against the bed. "So, when I'm all healed up, how about showing me that potions lab you were talking about?" he asked.
"Sure, I'll give you the full tour." When she had closed the wound up, she pulled out a vial of the scar potion along with another cream. "This one is for the scar. This other one, please apply it before you go to bed over anywhere that's raw from exposure. It won't heal your skin, but it'll significantly speed up the process."
"Why would you just happen to have a potion like that just hanging around?" he asked in disbelief.
"I don't happen to have any particular potions. That is one that I will now have to make a new batch of that comes in handy whenever Harry and Ron can stop by."
"Where are Scarhead and the Weasel, anyway?"
"On a mission for the Order."
"Any chance of you telling me what that mission is?"
"None, whatsoever."
"Fine. So, how about that tour?"
"Sure, though if you don't mind me asking, why are you being so … not an arse?"
"Hermione, I've been living on the streets for a very long time now. While you aren't the first person to show me kindness, you are the first one who knows who I am to do so. Rightfully, I would have expected you to hex me the second you realized who I am. If you are going to put me up in your house, heal me and feed me, being nice is the least I can do. Also, after being with Muggles for so long, as much as they still irk me, I don't hate them for any reason other than my father said to. I now have my own opinions on things rather than just spouting off whatever he indoctrinated me with."
"I'm happy to hear that," she responded with a smile and continued. "Well, not about the being on the streets, but everything else." He didn't reply but instead nodded his head in acknowledgement. "I didn't hex you because I know that you didn't want to hurt, never mind kill, Professor Dumbledore. I also know that you regretted letting in the other Death Eaters, especially Greyback."
To say that Draco was taken aback by this revelation would be an understatement. "How would you know that?"
"We have our sources. Though, our sources did think that you were dead."
"And who are these sources?"
"All in good time, my pretty."
"What?" he asked in confusion, the reference going over his head.
"Nothing. So, onto the tour." She showed him the entire house, and gave him a choice of the spare bedrooms. They were set up exactly the same, the only difference being that one was decorated in black and white, the other in blue and grey. He chose the black and white one, which she then told him was Harry's room when he was over. Downstairs was the lounge, where he had noticed seemed to be Crookshanks' favorite room, kitchen, potions room and her study that looked more like a library with every available inch of wall space being covered in bookshelves. Both of these rooms gave him the look of a kid in a candy shop, having been deprived of intellectual books and his favorite pass time of potion brewing for far too long. Once the tour was finished they both went to bed, exhausted from the long day. Or year, on Draco's part.
