Something new, and I know it's long! I own nothing.
"You make casual, meaningless sex sound like a bad thing," Hermione Granger commented. "This is the twenty-first century. Loosen up a bit, Gin."
Ginny Potter, normally equipped with a fiery personality, seemed less enthused and less likely to support her friend's position. "This is a small community, and people talk," she argued. "That kind of behavior may fly in the muggle world, but here it won't. You're a war hero, a role model, a shining example of what all young girls aspire to be. You can't be a tramp too."
Dark brows rose at the uncharacteristic statement. Raised with six brothers, Ginny often viewed the opposite sex the way they would - snogging could just be snogging, shagging could just be shagging, and strings needn't be attached. At least that had been her view before marriage and a child.
"Ron does it and no one calls him a tramp," Hermione pointed out, pushing away her lunch. Her appetite was gone despite having taken only three bites of her pasta dish. "Why is it different if I do it? Because I'm a woman?"
The redhead sighed, not wanting to have this discussion in public. "It's different for us. You know that," she replied. "It's not fair, but that's the way it is."
Scowling, Hermione crossed her arms and leaned back in her seat petulantly. "Well, I don't accept that." She dropped a galleon on the table and prepared to leave, despite Ginny's insistence that it wasn't necessary. "No, you've made your point, and now I need to go. The chaste, little spinster has a shop to run."
Without another word, she left the cafe for her bookshop across the street. The smell of leather and ink and paper calmed her. The man standing before her had the exact opposite effect. Draco Malfoy - tall, proud, pureblooded, cruel, and insensitive - seemed not to notice her. His nose was buried in a book on French antiques, and seemed to hold his attention.
"Tear the page out of that book and I'll kill you," she said, moving closer.
Seemingly embarrassed by the subject matter, he dropped the book. "I... sorry, I didn't mean to do that," he mumbled, picking the book up from the floor. "I was looking for something for my mother. I wasn't going to do anything."
Taking a deep breath, she took the book from him to examine. "Does she like French antiques?" she wondered. "You know, if you buy this, it'll be the first copy I move. People seem to have little interest in French antiques."
Draco shrugged and began to peruse the other books on the display table. He paid her no attention, and so Hermione returned to work. It was forty-five minutes later when he returned to the checkout counter empty handed. "Didn't find anything you liked?" she asked him.
Rubbing the back of his neck, he shook his head. "Um, could we talk? Maybe in private?" he asked, his voice low so as not to draw attention to himself. Nodding, she led him to her office and shut the door. He took his time sitting down, taking off his coat, and attempting to make himself comfortable. "I want to apologize," he finally said, out of ways to put it off any longer. "For...for everything - the way I treated you, the names I called you, what happened at my parents' house. Just...everything. I'm sorry, Granger."
Wide eyes and silence met his apology. For the first time in her life, Hermione was stunned silent. Draco paled, his face fell, and he began to put on his coat. "Wow," she finally murmured. "Sorry, I just wasn't expecting...that. Um, apology accepted."
Nodding, he stood to leave. "Thank you," he said, as he opened the door.
"You know I don't blame you for what happened with your aunt," she told him. Draco stopped short and turned, ready to explain. "Calling me a mudblood, teasing me about my hair and teeth, even hexing them are all things you should apologize for. Aside from that, you've done nothing wrong."
He produced a noncommittal shrug and fiddled with the doorknob. "This, uh, it's a nice store you have here," he said as she stood.
"Feel free to stop in any time," she replied. "This wasn't terrible. A bit awkward right now, perhaps, but not terrible."
The smallest of smiles appeared on his lips. "Do you like food?" he asked, struck by a sudden burst of his old confidence. "I mean dinner...would you-"
"It's my third favorite meal of the day," she told him. "Stop back around seven, and I'll tell you what beats dinner."
They said their goodbyes, and Hermione realized it would be a very long afternoon. The sun had long ago gone down when he reappeared in the shop. Hermione was alone, hunched over her inventory ledger. Oblivious to his presence, she continued to work until the quill mysteriously disappeared from her hand. She glanced up as her hand reached for another quill, and she gasped.
"It's five past," he informed her. "Appetizers are on you."
"You asked me out," she reminded him, making a reach for the quill he held over his head.
He handed her back the quill and leaned on the counter. "I thought you were one of those...what do you call them...feminists," he replied. "I was afraid of being hit again if I paid for the whole meal."
Hermione smirked as she began to clean up. "You were different this afternoon. I think I prefer that Draco," she decided. After slipping into her office for her coat and bag, she returned, ready to leave. "Tell me - do you still intend to feed me, or am I being lured to some pureblood gentlemen's club where muggleborns are forced to serve?"
"Remind me to look into something like that," he replied, leading her through the streets of London. She slapped his arm in response, and neither spoke again until they reached an Italian restaurant. She opened the door, letting him enter first. When they were seat, he pulled out a chair for her. "I recommend the lasagna," he said, casually perusing the menu. "Their sauce is quite excellent."
Hermione, who had yet to pick up the menu, stared incredulously at the blond across from her. "Who are you?" she wondered.
With a heavy sigh, he set aside the menu. "I'm a man who, five years ago, did horrible things," he told her. "I've hurt a lot of people, stood by and watched while other people hurt people, and when it was all over, I wanted to make a change. I hated who I was. My father's dead, my mother's a recluse, and I escaped."
"Is that why you came to apologize to me today?" she asked.
Sipping his water, he nodded. "Believe it or not, it's taken this long to work up the nerve," he admitted. "You are one of the few who've accepted my apology. Asking you to dinner wasn't really a part of the plan. My therapist will be thrilled to know I've finally made a friend, or something akin to one."
"Is that what you want? To be friends?" He picked up the menu again, the menu he'd memorized from so many trips to the restaurant, and used it as a shield. The Draco Malfoy Hermione had known was never shy, never one to mince words. And yet, here he was, hiding from her. Leaning across the table, she pulled it away. "I could use a friend too," she confessed.
There was a glint of hope in his gray eyes as he peered up at her. "You have Potter and the Weasleys," he said. Hermione merely shrugged as she took his hand in her own. "So, we're friends then?"
"I think so," she replied.
When dinner ended and the check was paid, Hermione invited Draco to come back to her flat. Though hesitant, he agreed. She let them in and set off for the kitchen to make tea. Left alone, Draco surveyed the sparsely decorated living room. Aside from shelves of books, there were no framed photos, no knick-knacks, nothing indicating she lived there. "Between decorators?" he joked when she returned.
Hermione shrugged as she sat down. "I don't like clutter," she said. Draco sat beside her, sipping his tea. "Why do you come to my shop?"
"I like books," he replied. "Living in the muggle world, I've learned to like books that have nothing to do with potions or dark arts. You sell books I like. Before today, I was always careful to avoid you. Honestly, I never thought you'd speak to me."
"I'm glad we did," she told him. "I can't remember the last time I had such a good night. This night was...perfect."
Draco chuckled. "Maybe you shouldn't have had that third glass of wine," he remarked. "I'm afraid it's diluted the part of your brain that makes you see reason."
A short laugh was her response. Hermione began to wonder if he may be right. Had the wine dulled her senses? And, if it had, could that work to her advantage? She recalled her conversation with Ginny. One believed intimacy should be reserved for love and marriage, while the other wanted to experience no strings attached, noncommittal sex. Perhaps Draco Malfoy was the perfect person with whom to form such a relationship.
"I was with Ron for four years," she shared. "I...everyone thought we'd get married. After a while, I started to convince myself that was what I wanted too. I never really loved him the way I should have. He was...safe, like wearing gloves while washing dishes. I didn't want to be with someone I equated to chores. And then...then the stories started."
Draco nodded. He knew the stories. Ron Weasley had a penchant for stepping outside of his relationship for womanly comfort. The break up was front page news. Hermione had discovered his infidelity, and left. "You don't have to," he murmured.
Sighing, she set aside her tea and turned to face. "No, I want to," she assured him. "I want to because, when we broke up, I was told that I should forgive him. It was natural male instinct to plow as many fields as they could. He was celebrated for sleeping around, and that got me thinking - if men can do it, why can't women?"
"Because we live in a patriarchal society that shames women who have healthy sex lives?" he guessed.
"I don't want to care what other people think."
With furrowed brows, Draco asked, "What are you getting at?"
The question was met with silence. Though she knew what she wanted, she needed to know that she had a willing partner. Leaning forward, she brushed her lips against his briefly before pulling away. A blush, deep and red, colored her cheeks. "Um, I...that," she said softly. "I...was that okay?"
Dumbfounded by her brazen action, he admitted he hadn't expected her to kiss him. "That's not a complaint," he added. "I'm just confused. Are you suggesting we sleep together?"
"Well, maybe not right now," she said uncertainly. "I think I like the idea of us being friends...with benefits. Would...is that maybe something you might be interested in as well?"
He considered her proposal. For years, he closed himself off. The war had taught him that getting close to anyone resulted in heartbreak. Too many friends had died in the war. And so, Draco stopped himself from forming new friendships, from getting attached. The war, though, was over, and he wondered if he could remember how to make a friend.
When he didn't reply, Hermione began to gather the empty mugs. His silence, he realized, had been taken as a rejection. She walked silently to the kitchen and turned on the hot water. "I'm sorry," he said, standing beside her. "You have to understand I'm not someone people go out of their way to befriend. I'm not used to someone wanting to be my friend, especially when that someone is you. To be honest, when I walked into your store this afternoon, I thought you'd hex me six ways from Sunday. This wasn't where I expected us to be tonight. I'm just confused."
After washing the mugs, Hermione turned off the tap and faced him. "I'm sorry, Draco. I hadn't thought about that," she replied remorsefully. "Can we forget this and just be friends?"
Taking a deep breath, he shook his head. "I don't think I can forget," he told her, pulling her close. Their lips met less hesitantly than before, but Draco made sure to not let it go too far. "I want this too."
The next morning, Draco awoke in an unfamiliar bed. Glancing to his left, Hermione slept, unperturbed by his movement. Peeking beneath the blankets, he found they were both still dressed in the clothes they'd worn to dinner the night before. A part of him felt better for that. Though they hadn't been drunk, he felt that just kissing her was taking advantage of the situation. He would let Hermione dictate the relationship and set the boundaries.
He stared at the ceiling until she stirred, turning over to wrap her arm around his torso. "Sleep okay?" she murmured, eyes still closed.
"The bed is comfortable," he mumbled.
She sat up beside him, stretching her arms over her head to release the tension in her back. "You're quite an active sleeper," she commented through a yawn. "You don't snore, but you did a lot of kicking. I might be reaching here, but I take it you have nightmares too?"
"I envy the person who doesn't," he replied, sitting up. "So, what do we do now?"
"Food," she stated, getting out of bed. "I'm making pancakes. Whenever I have nightmares, I have pancakes for breakfast. Do you want to know something strange? When it's going to rain, my arm hurts. You know, the scars from your aunt. They just start hurting whenever it's supposed to rain. At least I always know to wear galoshes."
Draco frowned as he attempted to unwrinkle his once perfectly pressed dress shirt. "You don't have to cook for me," he told her, following her to the kitchen.
She had placed the griddle on the stove and was about to turn to the refrigerator. "Oh, sorry. Right, yeah, you've got a life," she said. "I get ahead of myself sometimes. The shop door is locked from the inside, so just make sure to relock it on your way out."
He nodded, not sure what else to say. Shoes and jacket in hand, he bade her goodbye and made this way through the store to the exit. Before he could reach it, he spotted Harry Potter standing at the door. He wasn't lucky enough to go unnoticed by the Head Auror. Potter knocked on the door, beckoning Draco to open it for him. Wand out, Harry entered. "Does Hermione know you're here?" he demanded. "Are you breaking and entering?"
"Actually, I was invited," Draco replied, unable to help reverting back to childish behavior. "Hermione's in the kitchen. Thank her for the good time for me."
Grabbing his arm, Harry slammed the taller man into the nearest bookshelf and placed his wand beneath his chin. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" he asked through gritted teeth.
The door upstairs opened, and Hermione descended quickly. "What is going on?" she demanded, pointing her own wand at Harry. "Let him go. Now, the both of you explain yourselves."
"I was just trying to go home," Draco told her tiredly. Hermione nodded, and told him to go. As he passed, he leaned down to kiss her cheek, and caught Harry's eye in the process. If looks could kill, Draco Malfoy would have stopped breathing right then and there. "I'll call when I get in."
She waited until he was gone before turning her attention to Harry. "Checking up on me now?" she inquired, arms crossed over her chest.
"It's Sunday," he replied. "We always have breakfast together on Sunday mornings."
Hermione deflated. "Oh, Harry, I'm sorry," she murmured, stepping forward to hug him. "Come upstairs, I'm burning the pancakes."
Chuckling, he followed her to her flat and took a seat at the kitchen table. "So, why was Malfoy leaving through the store this morning and kissing you and generally being the prat we all remember from school?" he asked.
"We're friends," she replied, disposing of her first batch of now ruined pancakes. "He's not as bad as he used to be. He calls me by my first name now, which will take some getting used to."
"Friends?" Harry asked incredulously. "After everything he's done? You're friends with him? Hermione, really, you can't be friends with someone who wanted you dead five years ago."
Hermione slammed the spatula against the counter and turned to face him. "Because his aunt and father wanted me dead, he did too?" she inquired angrily. "He came to me to apologize, to atone for his mistakes, and I forgave him. That's my prerogative, Harry. You don't have to like it, you don't have to accept it, but that's the way it is. I will decide who I befriend, and you'll either accept it or you won't. Either way, I don't care."
Scoffing, he stood and told her he was no longer hungry. Hermione did nothing to deter his leaving. "Don't come crying to me when you get hurt," were his parting words.
After turning off the stove, Hermione dumped the batter and threw the bowl in the sink. Picking up the phone, she dialed the number Draco had given her and waited for him to answer. "Come over?" she asked.
He returned to her flat half an hour later. "What's going on?" he asked when she let him in. "You sounded mad on the phone. Everything okay with Potter?"
With a shake of her head, Hermione returned to the kitchen. "Harry's a prat," she muttered, starting her third attempt at making breakfast. "Grab some juice glasses, cabinet next to the sink. He thinks, because he's the Chosen One, he gets to dictate everyone else's lives, and I'm sick of it. Second shelf, in the back. Who is he to decide that I can't be friends with you?"
Draco pulled down two glasses and set them on the table. "I don't want to jeopardize your friendships," he said.
"And I don't want to stop being your friend," she retorted. "Friends don't force you to choose. You wouldn't ask me to choose between them and you."
"Well, we have only been friends for a day. Give it time," he joked.
Scowling, she plated breakfast and joined him at the table. "I hit you once, I'll do it again," she warned. Sighing, she pushed away her plate. "You know, I thought this would end when the war did. I thought choosing sides would be a thing of the past. Maybe I'm naive and foolish, but after everything that's happened, I hoped Harry might be able to put schoolyard quarrels behind him."
"I think it'll take time," he told her. "Not everyone is as forgiving as you. Honestly, I'm not sure why you forgave me. Nevertheless, I'm glad you did."
Breakfast forgotten, she reached for his hand. "There was no ulterior motive," she replied. "You apologized, I deemed it sincere, so I accepted it. Friendship was just an added bonus."
Giving her hand a gentle tug, he pulled her just close enough to kiss her. "That's a pretty nice bonus too," he murmured, resting his forehead against hers. Blushing, she nodded in agreement. "And waking up next to you this morning - that was pretty nice too. Believe it or not, I slept better last night than I have in a long time. Sorry for kicking you though."
She shrugged it off. A few bruises to the shin were nothing she couldn't handled. "Thank you for coming back this morning," she said. "I didn't pull you away from anything important or urgent, I hope."
"Only starvation," he promised, brushing his lips across her cheek. "May we eat now?"
When breakfast ended, Hermione watched in awe as Draco Malfoy hand washed her dirty dishes. He chided her once for staring, but that didn't deter her. Harry and Ron would never believe her. "Where'd you learn to do this?" she wondered, joining him by the sink with a dish towel in hand.
He took it away from her and slung it over his shoulder. "Do I really look incapable of washing something?" he inquired, hurt by her question. "When I moved to the muggle world, I didn't take a house elf with me. I had to learn to survive on my own without any of the comforts I had as a child. Took me six months to figure out laundry. Wishing dishes, though, that one was easy."
"Do you like it?" she asked. "Living as a muggle - do you like it?"
He set the griddle on the counter to dry and turned off the water. "You know, I do," he replied. "No one knows me. It's easier to change when you're not constantly being reminded by others of who you were. There was nothing good about being Draco Malfoy, wizard, but Draco Malfoy, muggle, isn't so bad. He makes friends. People like him."
She considered that for a moment, slowly encircling his waist with her arms. "Well, having known both of you, I do prefer the one who doesn't call me a mudblood," she remarked. He tensed, but she continued. "You were changing long before you decided to become a muggle. I like to think you could still be this Draco if you'd stayed here."
He removed her arms from his waist, but didn't let go of her hands. "I can't decide if that's idealistic or naive," he commented.
"Or maybe I'm just right," she teased, pulling away. "I'm going to shower. I'd figure out a way to occupy yourself while I'm in there."
Draco was hot on her heels as she made her way to the bathroom. When she reached the closed door, he caught her. "Would you object to our first time being in there?" he wondered, kissing her neck.
Hermione turned in his arms. "You really want to do this? With me?" she asked uncertainly.
His hold on her loosened. "You can say no any time you want," he assured her. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable. I'll watch television while you shower."
"Actually," she said, sniffing his shirt, "you smell like you could use a shower too. And you don't make me uncomfortable. In fact, I...I probably feel more comfortable with you than I should. Wait, that sounded bad. It's not because of your past or my past or our past. We've only really known each other for a day, and yet you make me feel safer than Harry or Ron ever did. That's what I meant."
Reaching behind her, he opened the bathroom door and led her inside. "My god, even rambling you know what to say to get me to bend to your will," he murmured, lips against her neck as he hoisted her onto the vanity. He pulled back to allow her to remove his shirt. "For the record - I feel safe with you too."
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"That's crazy," Ron Weasley said, setting up the chess board. "Hermione's too smart for that. Besides, she knows how we feel about him. She's not gonna jeopardize our friendship for that lowlife, ferrety Death Eater."
Harry scoffed as he sat down. "You didn't see her. You didn't hear her," he replied emphatically. "She doesn't care what we think. And her hair did that thing it does when she's angry, you know, the expanding thing. I worry that if we push her, try to make her see that he's wrong for her, we're going to lose her."
"Then what are you going to do?" Ron wondered.
With a heavy sigh, Harry examined the board. It came as no surprise that the task would be left up to him. Following their break up, Ron and Hermione had stopped speaking altogether. He had asked to be friends, but his infidelity saw to it that that wouldn't happen. Keeping Hermione in his life would fall to Harry. "Do you think it's possible he really has changed?" he wondered. Ron merely snorted in reply. "I mean, if he were still the same Malfoy we went to school with, she wouldn't give him the time of day, right?"
Shrugging, Ron moved his first piece and waited for Harry. "Maybe he is different," he agreed. "Doesn't mean we have to like him too."
0000000000
Hermione stared at the felled shower curtain and rod, laughing as she did so. Draco, chagrinned, stood beside her. "I'm really sorry," he said for the fifth time.
"Stop apologizing," she replied. "It's easily fixable. And funny. So very, very funny."
Grabbing her wand from the vanity, she levitated the rod and fixed it into place. "Just like magic," he commented as she placed her wand down and kissed his cheek. "Maybe we should stick to places less slippery next time."
Hermione rubbed his lower back, which had hit the rim of the tub as the curtain fell. "Maybe I need a bigger tub," she mused. Laughing, he pulled her, still dripping wet, from the bathroom. Once in her bedroom, he pulled back the blankets, laid down, and beckoned her to join him. Sighing contentedly, she relaxed into his arms. "This feels right."
He stroked her arm slowly, catching stray droplets of water as his hand moved. Those three words consumed him. In the first twenty-four hours of friendship, he had snogged and shagged her. Had she been any other girl, that would not have bothered him. Hermione, he believed, deserved better. "Are you sure this is what you want?" he asked, staring at the ceiling. Hermione began to pull away, but Draco held tight to her. "I don't mean me. Just this type of relationship - this friends with benefits thing. I just...I don't take you for this kind of girl."
"What kind of girl is that?" she inquired, sitting up. A look of panic passed over his face as she glared angrily. "A slut? A tramp? Or do you prefer something a bit more Dickensian, like harlot?"
"Merlin, no," he replied, pushing himself into a reclined position. "No, Hermione, never. You're the last woman in the world I'd think of that way. I'm sorry. All I meant was I thought you were a girlfriend/boyfriend kind of girl. Honestly, I've never been good at being a boyfriend, but if that's what you'd rather have-"
Snorting, she laid back down. "That's not what I want," she stated. "If that's what I wanted, that's what I'd have asked for." She sat up and searched the floor for clothing. "You know, this whole double standard - men can do it, but women can't - is infuriating. Ron can sow his oats wherever he chooses. You can invite a different woman into your bed each night. I find one guy - just one - that I want to sleep with without making a commitment, and I'm the one who's wrong."
His hand was warm on her bare back. "I'm sorry," he murmured, kissing her shoulder. "There's nothing wrong about what we're doing. I just wanted to make sure it's what you really want. No regrets."
His words were met with a smile as she turned to face him. "No regrets, Draco," she murmured, kissing him. She laid down beside him, once again in his arms. "Are you okay with this?"
"I am," he assured her. "Believe it or not, this past day has been the best one I've ever had. It's not just the sex that's made it good. Having someone who knows me and will still talk to me is the part I like best. Although, it has only been a day. I guess I shouldn't get my hopes up too high."
Hermione yawned as her eyes began to close. "I like talking to you," she murmured. "I think you might be my favorite person right now."
He chuckled. "Go to sleep," he said. She needed no convincing, and within minutes, was asleep by his side. His eyes remained trained on the ceiling. It felt surreal to lie in Hermione Granger's bed. They were supposed to hate one another, and had for seven years. Who would have thought an apology would change everything. To be wanted was a new and foreign feeling. To be wanted by the muggleborn he had long teased was utterly strange.
Carefully, he slipped out of bed and covered her with the blankets. Returning to the bathroom, he pulled on slightly damp pants and moved into the living room. After a brief perusal of the bookshelves, he selected a book of Shakespearean sonnets and made himself comfortable while Hermione slept. Not a word was absorbed as he idly flipped page after page.
With a heavy sigh, he stood to retrieve his shirt from the bathroom floor. He stopped in briefly to check on Hermione before returning to the living room. A small silver pot rested on the mantel. Floo powder in hand, Draco stepped into the fireplace, dropped the fine granules, and called out, "Malfoy Manor".
Narcissa Malfoy looked up from her needlepoint, startled to see her son stepping into the parlor. Wordlessly, she rose and embraced him. "Never stay away from me this long again," she admonished him, but refused to let him go.
It had been four years since mother and son had last seen one another. Malfoy Manor held far too many bad memories, painful memories, memories he wished desperately to forget. Following the war, he had spent a year living there in order to take care of his mother. When her mental state showed no signs of improving, he hired help and left. It hadn't occurred to him that she would notice he was gone. "I'm sorry, Mum," he whispered, holding just as tightly to her as she did to him. "I'm here now though."
Nodding, she pulled away and led him by the hand to sit on the sofa beside her. "Have you been to see your father recently?" she asked. "I do so hope he'll come home soon, and the three of us can be a family again. I've missed you, my sweet boy."
Draco frowned as he held her hand. "Mum, you know Father...passed," he reminded her. "Right?"
With a nervous laugh, she assured him she did. "Wishful thinking," she replied. Lucius had died from injuries sustained during the battle just days before he was scheduled to go to trial.
"Do you ever thinking about leaving this house?" he wondered. "You could have a fresh start. The things that happened here can't be good for you."
Narcissa scoffed, smoothing an invisible blonde hair back into her chignon. "We're not all suited for the muggle world, darling," she commented. "After everything the mudbloods did, I'll never understand how you could live amongst muggles. How will you meet a nice girl there?"
He dropped her hand. "I didn't think pure blood mattered anymore," he replied. "It stopped mattering to me years ago."
"Well, your father won't approve," she said flippantly, returning to her craft. "You know how he feels about keeping the lineage pure."
Draco got to his feet and began to walk away from her. "What about what I want?" he demanded. "Do my feelings and opinions not matter? What about my happiness? Are you going to cast me out if I fall in love with someone who isn't a pureblood?"
"Have you?" she asked, her voice soft and fearful.
Turning back to face her, he shook his head. "If I did, I'd like to know my mother, the only family I have left, is alright with it," he told her.
"Would your feelings change if I didn't approve?" she inquired, already knowing her stubborn son's answer. Mother and son laughed as both shook their heads. "Ms. Granger has been in the newspaper quite frequently recently. Her bookshop would be a good place to find yourself a suitable wife."
"Are you suggesting I invade Hermione Granger's hallowed grounds to pick up women?" he asked. "She'd hex me in a heartbeat. Um, speaking of Granger, we talked." Blonde brows rose, prodding him to continue. "It was nothing. I apologized to her for the way I treated her, she forgave me, and I went home." He very deliberately left out dinner and the night and day he had spent with her.
"Well, that was nice of you," she replied. "Did you mean it?"
He nodded somberly. "She had short sleeves on, and I saw her arm," he said. "I saw that...disgusting word carved into her arm. Even if I hadn't gone to her store with every intention of telling her how sorry I was, seeing that would have been enough of a reason. No one deserves to be branded against their will."
Narcissa's hand covered his left forearm. "No, no one deserves this," she agreed, her tone soft and loving. "You both received them to protect your loved ones though. It occurs to me that you and Ms. Granger might have a good deal in common. Do you think you'll see her again?"
"Yes, I do," he replied, blushing as he thought about their early morning activities. "Um, I live near her shop, and she has a nice selection. Maybe you're right, and I'll find a nice girl there."
Narcissa seemed hopeful, and he suddenly regretted his words. As he listened to her talk about how proud Lucius would be when he finally settled down, the phone in his pocket began to vibrate. His mother too distracted by the one-sided conversation to notice his poor manners, Draco slid the phone from his pocket and saw Hermione's name on the display. He silenced the call, but stood to leave. "And that woman you hired to come here," Narcissa said, changing the subject, "I don't like her. I don't need her. She comes and tells these...ridiculous stories and gives me potions I don't need. She said I have an unbalanced sense of reality. Can you imagine?"
"Yeah," he mumbled, pocketing the phone. "Listen, there's something I need to take of. I promise to visit again soon though."
Though disappointed, she bade his goodbye as Draco stepped into the fireplace. He mumbled his destination, and prayed he would arrive in the right place. When he saw Hermione's living room, he breathed a sigh of relief. The room was otherwise unoccupied, and so he went in search of her. The flat was empty, and as he moved from room to room, his panic grew. When she was nowhere to be found, his made his way to the shop below.
"Hey," she greeted him nonchalantly. "You came back."
He knelt before her and took her hands. "Did you think I wouldn't?" he asked, noticing the redness of her eyes. "Are you okay? Was it a nightmare? I didn't think you were asleep long enough to have one. I'm sorry I left without saying anything."
She laughed mirthlessly. "Don't be," she muttered. "I overreacted. Sorry for pulling you away from your day...again."
Draco stood, and still holding her hands, pulled her to her feet. "Do you want to talk about it?" he asked, his voice tender. But Hermione refused. "Okay, then let's go back up and watch the telly. I've just come from visiting my mother, and a distraction would be nice."
"Want to talk about it?" she asked as he led her back to the flat. Smirking, he shook his head. Sitting down, he picked up the remote control and looked for something to watch. Beside him, Hermione fussed with the tassel on a throw pillow. "I have panic attacks," she finally admitted. "That's why I called. I'm used to waking up alone. Since I finished school, I've lived alone. It's something I should be used to. But I woke up and you were gone, and it scared me. I really am sorry for pulling you away from your mother."
He placed his arm around her shoulders, drawing her closer to him. "Don't apologize," he murmured, kissing the top of her head. "I was here when you fell asleep. It's only natural you'd expect me to still be here. It's been a long time since anyone's needed me that I'm not in the habit of letting someone know when I'm not around. I'll try to promise not to do it again, but I can't guarantee it."
Hermione nodded before placing her head on his shoulder. "I'll try to promise not to freak out should it happen again," she replied. "So, are you going to tell me about your mother now?"
Draco chuckled, pressing the off button on the remote. "Did you tell me just so I'll tell you my thing?" he wondered. "Because that's some pretty Slytherin thinking for a Gryffindor." She looked at him expectantly, saying nothing until the silence became too much. "Okay, fine. She's still crazy and won't acknowledge it. She thinks Lucius is still alive. Oh, and you came up. Apparently your store will be where I meet my soulmate."
Lifting her head, she shot him an incredulous look as she started to laugh. "Where? Self help? Nonfiction?" she asked. "Oh, I know - romance. We'll set you up with a cot and hot plate so you never have to leave that aisle. Although, a hot plate could be dangerous, what with all those books around. Well, I'll just bring you something each day. Nothing too messy though; again, the books."
"You're enjoying this a little too much," he remarked. "Keep in mind you're mocking a mentally deluded woman right now. How does that guilt taste, Granger?"
She sat up straight. "I wasn't mocking your mother," she stated as if giving a recitation. "I was merely highlighting that the store has brought nothing but paper cuts and a few hundred pounds a month."
"I'm sure it makes more than that," he replied, turning on the television. "You know, she thinks we have a good deal in common."
A piqued eyebrow greeted him. "Such as breathing and blinking?" she asked sarcastically. "There's no way your mother would ever approve of this...whatever we are."
"Friends, Hermione. We're friends," he replied, a pit of anger building in his stomach. "That's what you said we are. You got what you wanted, so now I'm back to 'whatever'?"
"Yes, Draco," she said bitingly as she got to her feet. "You're 'whatever'. That's why I've called you twice today to come over, even though I've already gotten what I wanted. You know the way out."
He watched her walk away, and winced when he heard the bedroom door slam. Standing, he made his way to where Hermione hid from him. Instead of knocking, he let himself into her room. He stood in the doorway as she viciously ripped the sheets from the bed and threw them in the corner. "I'm sorry," he said when she finally noticed him. Hermione scoffed and continued her task silently. "You don't have to believe it, but I am. Being a friend was never something I was particularly good at. Sure, I had Crabbe and Goyle, but they were lackeys. I wasn't really interested in their friendship. Until you, I don't think I've ever felt that way. So, I'm sorry for what I said, Hermione. Please believe that I never meant it."
He turned to leave. "Then why did you say it?" she wondered.
Sighing, he faced her once more. "I was afraid," he admitted. "I was scared that I'm invested in being your friend, and you maybe don't feel the same way. I overreacted."
Nodding, she removed the pillowcases and let them fall to the floor. "I think you're the first friend I've made since I was twelve," she told him with a small, self-deprecating chuckle. "Maybe you're not the only one who has trouble with it. I do consider you a friend. In fact, you might be the only one I have right now. I'm sorry for trivializing that."
His steps were hesitant as he approached her. When he was five feet away, he stopped. "Do you still want me to leave?" he asked. Hermione closed the distance between them and hugged him. "This is something of a mixed message," he joked.
Laughing, she pulled away and smacked his arm. "If you have more important things to do today, don't feel obligated to stay," she replied, remaking the bed. "However, if you've got nothing to do, you're welcome to help me in the shop. It's closed today, so there's no worry of running into someone you don't want to see."
Draco moved to the other side of the bed to tuck in the top sheet. "You say that, but the last time I went through the shop, I ran into Potter," he reminded her. "It was just this morning, remember? I know you're older, but your memory should be better than this."
Hermione shot him a surprised look. "You know my birthday?" she asked.
"September nineteenth. Was it supposed to be a secret?" he replied. Hermione shrugged and put on the pillowcases. "I've known it for years. My father, when I started complaining about you being smarter than me, dug up everything he could on you. Of course, you were twelve, so there wasn't much to find. Your birthday always sort of stuck with me though."
"Was he looking for information to use against me?" she wondered. "How Slytherin. Find out anything else that you committed to memory?"
He thought about the file his father had kept on her. "Yeah, you hate peas," he replied, which earned a laugh from the witch. "Honestly, there wasn't much dirt to find. Only child, parents are dentists, smartest student in her class before coming to Hogwarts."
"And hates peas," she added. "What happened to that file?"
"I burned it," he told her. "He spent our second year collecting all this information, and the summer before third year, it was in the fireplace. Sure, I read it first. I had to know everything I could about the enemy. I just didn't want him to have any ammunition, like force feeding you peas."
Sitting on the freshly made bed, Hermione stared at the scar on her arm. "I think my blood status was all the ammunition he needed," she muttered ruefully.
Leaning across the bed, he kissed her cheek. "You know that doesn't matter to me," he promised. "You're you, and that's all I care about."
"We need ground rules," she said suddenly. "The point of this arrangement is that we don't get attached. We're supposed to be friends, not boyfriend and girlfriend."
Draco moved away, frowning as he stared at her. "So, what kind of rules?" he inquired. "Date other people? No sleepovers? Only call when we need a shag? I'm not interested in only being your friend when you want sex. I want to be friends regardless of the benefits that come with it. And if that means losing the benefits, I'm fine with that."
"I wasn't implying that I only want you for sex," she replied indignantly. "That one aspect of our friendship is just supposed to be about sex. I just don't want you to feel like you have to make a commitment to me because of it. I don't want a relationship, and I'm sure I'm the last girl you'd want to bring home to meet your mother."
"You really think you could keep from becoming attached?" he challenged. Crossing her arms, she gave a defiant nod. "Yeah? Care to put a wager on that?"
Contempt turned to suspicion. "What kind of wager?" she inquired. "What more could you possibly want? Sex is already on the table."
There was a mischievous glint in his eye, one that suggested he liked the sound of that idea. "Okay, if you lose, we move in together," he replied. "If you can remain completely ambivalent to me, we continue on as we are. We remain friends with benefits. I predict you won't last a month, Granger."
Hermione smirked as she moved away from the bed to stand in front of him. "That confident, are you, Casanova?" she asked. Draco held out his hand to shake on the deal, but Hermione decided it was better to seal it with a kiss. "What if you fall for me? Or have you already?"
"At the end of the month, when you decide how you feel about me, I'll tell you how I feel about you," he replied. "Until then, we're friends who occasionally enjoy mussing up your sheets."
Hermione laughed as he guided her to the bed. "Yeah, I just made it," she said. "If we're mussing sheets, it'll have to be at your flat. I'm not changing them again today."
"And here I thought you were a witch," he murmured, pressing his lips to hers.
Laughing, she rolled her eyes. "You're insatiable," she replied as he kissed her again.
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Harry finished sharing his encounter with Malfoy with the Weasley family. Stunned silence met him until Ginny spoke up. "Do you think he's got her under a spell?" she wondered.
"She always tried to defend him," Ron interjected. "If there's someone in need, we all know Hermione's the first one there to help, even if the other person doesn't want her help. If Malfoy came to her to make amends, then I don't see what the problem is."
"The problem is that boy is a Death Eater and a killer," Molly added. "Hermione is a smart, sensible girl-"
"Exactly," George interrupted impatiently. "Smart and sensible. If Hermione thought he was a problem, she wouldn't have let him into her life. She'd have hexed him and called the Aurors. No one's seen him since the war. If he were still trouble, he'd be in a cell in Azkaban."
Ginny scowled at her older brother. It always baffled her that the twins would take Hermione's side in any argument. Whether it was because they genuinely believed in her argument or to rile up their siblings, the youngest Weasley didn't know. Rather than ask, she glowered at her older brother. "Whose side are you on?" she asked, though it was a rhetorical question. Turning back to the table, she continued, "I think the two of you should talk to her. If anyone can talk some sense into her, it's you, Harry."
"I'm not going back there," he muttered indignantly, still hurt from the way he'd been treated the last time they spoke.
"Fine, I'll talk to her," Ron said, putting an end to the conversation.
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Draco browsed the shop, pulling titles from the shelves and putting them back before continuing on. Eyes fixed firmly on the titles, he didn't realize anyone else was around until they collided. "Sorry, mate," he mumbled before glancing at the tall, redhaired man beside him. "Oh, you."
"Yeah, me," Ron replied. "Look, I'm not here to win her back or threaten your life because you're with her. Honestly, I just wanted to end the fighting, so I volunteered to come here. I don't know what I'm supposed to say. Is she happy?"
Draco felt his defenses slowly come down. "She seems to be," he said. "I have a feeling if she weren't, I'd be in St. Mungo's claiming to have fallen down the stairs."
Ron laughed, knowing better than anyone what Hermione's temper could be like. After all, at thirteen years old, she had punched Draco in the nose for insulting a teacher. "Well, my advice would be to stay on her good side," he remarked. "We both know she's a little scary when she's angry."
"I'd never hurt her," Draco vowed. Ron nodded, jamming his hands into his pockets as he stared at the carpet-covered floor. "She's upstairs, if you want to talk to her."
"I've hurt her," Ron confessed.
Draco shrugged. "Yeah, but I had a past of hurting her, and she forgave me," he reminded his former classmate. "Give her the chance to do the same for you."
Ron clapped him on the shoulder and took the stairs to the flat above the bookshop. His heart hammered as he knocked on the door, and prayed she wouldn't slam it in his face. Her look was murderous when the door opened. "Please, just let me say I'm sorry," he said, holding the door open as she tried to close it. "You don't have to forgive me. We don't have to be friends again if you don't want to be. I just want to say I'm sorry I hurt you, Mione. You were good to me, and I didn't appreciate that. If Malfoy does and you're happy with him-"
"Harry told you," she muttered, shaking her head. Stepping back, she invited him in. "Do you intend to talk me out of this?"
Taking a seat on the sofa, he promised he had no intention of doing that. "I don't care if Harry and Ginny hate him, or think we're supposed to be together," he replied. "I don't deserve to be with you, and Malfoy doesn't seem so bad. He's changed, huh?"
Hermione smiled as she sat down on the coffee table. "And for the better," she added. "We've only been friends for about a week, but I like being with him. It's comfortable and exciting at the same time. He keeps me on my toes. He's smart and witty, and just one of my favorite people to be around."
Ron nodded contritely, and when Hermione noticed, tried desperately to apologize. "No, don't," he murmured. "I didn't take it as a slight against me. I wasn't always a good friend to you, and I was an even worse boyfriend. If Malfoy's better than me, I'm glad. You deserve better."
Leaning in, she hugged him for the first time in months. "Thank you," she whispered, kissing his cheek. "Why couldn't Harry be this mature?"
He shrugged as she pulled away. "Maybe because you and I had a different relationship than you and Harry?" he guessed. "I don't think I have the right to judge who makes you happy anymore. Not sure Harry should judge either since he's dating my sister."
Hermione laughed as she stood, beckoning him to follow her to the kitchen. "So, whose idea was it that you come talk to me a week after Harry and I got in a fight?" she wondered, brewing a fresh pot of coffee.
"Mine," he replied, pulling two mugs from the cabinet near the stove. "It took me a week to work up the nerve to do it. Well, that and I figured I'd practice my protection spells in case you hexed me on sight."
Chagrined, she turned away. "I might have done that," she agreed.
"Why didn't you?" he wondered.
Setting the coffee pot down on the table, Hermione took a seat. "Draco has this habit of calling me when he doesn't mean to," she explained. "I heard your conversation. Thank you for being nice to him. It means a lot to me, Ron."
He fingered the handle of his mug, staring at the dark contents of the cup. "Do you think...maybe someday...you might be able to forgive me?" he asked.
"Keep acting this way, and I'd say yes," she replied. "The cheating hurt a lot, Ron. You were one of the few people in this world I knew I could trust, and then the stories came out. I denied them for so long, and when I couldn't anymore, I knew I couldn't trust you."
"Do you trust Malfoy?" he wondered.
Sighing, Hermione sat back in her seat. "I do," she told him. "I know he doesn't have the most stellar past, but present day Draco hasn't given me a reason not to. Maybe that's foolish to think that way, I don't know."
"It's not foolish," he assured her. "Anyhow, I should be going. George is alone at the shop, and I promised to be back half an hour ago."
Hermione chuckled. "You've been here ten minutes," she pointed out.
Standing, he shrugged. "And I paced outside for thirty," he replied as she hugged him. "I don't know if you want to be friends again, but let's not be strangers."
She led him out through the shop, and once he was gone, joined Draco in the cooking section. "Okay, let me have it," she said.
Draco perused a book on Italian cuisine, finding a particularly interesting chicken dish he would make note of. "Do I have anything to worry about?" he inquired, reshelving the book.
"If you're asking if you'll be replaced, the answer is no," she promised. "You're the only man I want in my bed."
He turned to face her and felt her arms wind around his waist. "What about your ground rules?" he wondered. "I thought we were allowed to have other bed warmers."
"And yet you're the only one I want doing it," she replied.
Smirking, he held her closer. "Does this mean you've fallen for me?" he murmured, his lips hovering above her own.
"Nope," she replied, kissing him before pulling away.
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Harry balked as Ron shared with him his conversations with Draco and Hermione. "Who are we to decide who she can befriend?" Ron wondered angrily. "Face it, Harry, we weren't always the greatest of friends to her. We've both hurt her, and telling her she can't be friends with him is only going to push her farther away. Do you really want to lose her?"
"I don't want to lose her," Harry replied, "but that doesn't mean I'm going to keep quiet. Malfoy was always a git to us. How can we be sure he's changed?"
"Because Hermione's the smartest person we know," Ron stated. "If she sees something good in him, I believe her."
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Hermione stared up at the dark ceiling as Draco slept beside her. His bare skin warmed her as the night temperatures took a dip. These were her favorite moments - the time spent with Draco when life was simple and happy. She willed sleep to come, but an overactive mind worked against her. The bet was fresh in her thoughts. He had spent every night in her bed, and most of his days revolved around her. The Malfoy fortune ensured that he need not work, and so, his days were spent at the shop. It never bothered her that he was around, and when he couldn't be there, she wished he were.
"Oh no," she whispered to herself. Carefully, she extricated herself and made her way to the living room. As she sat down, she covered her face with her hands. The realization that she could love Draco Malfoy made her nervous. In her experience, relationships only led to heartache, and a relationship was what she would get if he knew her feelings.
"Aren't you cold?" Draco wondered, rubbing his eyes against the harshness of the light. In his hand was the button-down shirt he'd discarded earlier. Sitting beside her, he wrapped it around her bare shoulders. "Better?"
Hermione nodded as she slipped her arms into the sleeves. "I couldn't sleep," she admitted.
"Want to go for round two?" he asked. "Won't take us long to disrobe this time."
With a heavy sigh, she shook her head. "I've given this a lot of thought," she started, taking a deep breath to steel her nerves, "and I think you should move in. If you want to, I mean."
"Is that really what you want?" he replied. "The wager we made isn't something we have to go through with if it makes you uncomfortable."
"That's not it," she told him. "You've slept here every night for the last two weeks, and I like it. I like having you here. I sleep better when you're here. Winning or losing a bet doesn't matter to me."
He took a moment to consider her feelings. Her request could either be completely innocuous or a thinly veiled confession that she wanted to be more than friends with benefits. "I don't want to be roommates," he confessed. "Maybe I've been out of practice for a few years, but I've become extremely attached to you. Even when I had friends, they weren't as good to me as you are. I didn't want to be around them the way I want to be around you. I just...when you asked me if I'd already fallen for you, the answer is yes."
Hermione released a shaky breath as she reached for his hand. "I'm scared of what being a couple could mean," she said. "When I dated Viktor and he stopped writing, it didn't bother me. When Ron cheated, I swore I'd never date again. Then you came along, and I started to wonder what it would be like to date you. I don't want to lose you too."
"I'm not going anywhere," he promised. "I know that might be hard to believe for you, but I don't want to walk away. I need you too, you know."
"So, what do we do now?" she wondered.
Yawning, Draco stood. "We go back to bed," he advised, pulling her to her feet. "Tomorrow, we can start packing up my place. We'll take the relationship slow, if that's what you want. I'm okay with you setting the pace, so long as it means I get to be with you."
"Okay," she agreed as he led her back to the bedroom. She only hoped she would never regret it.
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Ron stood nervously outside Draco's flat, waiting to be let in. He rarely ventured into the muggle world, and it frightened him that he might be discovered as a wizard. When the door finally opened, he breathed a sigh of relief. "I almost got hit by a car," he muttered, following Draco to the second floor.
"Yeah, that was a big adjustment for me too," he replied. "I really appreciate your help. I, uh, I sort of stopped using magic years ago, so an extra wand will make this go a bit quicker. Hermione's already got my bedroom packed. She's had me up since five o'clock this morning, and has been dictating tasks for the last four."
The redhead laughed. "Get used to that," he advised. "Hermione, as well intentioned as she is, will always be a little bossy. She does get results though."
They found Hermione in the study, and were instantly put to work. By noon, Draco's belongings were boxed and ready to be moved into Hermione's flat. "I talked Draco into opening the floo," she explained, levitating several boxes to the living room. "Saved quite a bit on a moving truck this way."
"Aren't you worried that the muggles might have felt the magic?" Ron asked worriedly as he began to shrink the boxes down to fit in the tote bag Hermione had handed him.
She shook her head as she did the same. "No, I warded the place so it wasn't detectable," she replied. "One or two spells could be passed off as nothing, but they definitely would have caught on that something strange was going on in here."
Nodding, Ron glanced around to make sure they were alone. Last he had seen Draco, he had been going room to room to make sure they had missed nothing. "So, why doesn't Draco use magic anymore?" he wondered. "The one thing we have in common is that we grew up with magic. It's a huge part of our lives. How do you just decide you're never using it again?"
"I think it reminded him too much of the person he didn't like being," she said thoughtfully. "It's admirable that he could give it up. Like you said - it's been a part of his life since birth. Living like a muggle has shown him that those with lesser blood statuses are really no different than him."
"Well, I never thought I'd say it, but he's a pretty good guy," Ron remarked. "You haven't got him under the Imperius curse, right?"
Laughing, she promised him that no nefarious spells were at work. "Like I'd admit that to an Auror," she added as Draco joined them. "Are we ready to go?"
Nodding, Draco helped her to her feet and grabbed two of the bags she had packed. "The real question is are you ready to live together?" he asked after Ron stepped into the fireplace.
"Eh, I don't know. I'm having second thoughts," she teased as Draco held her closer. His fingers tickled her sides, causing Hermione to giggle loudly and plead for mercy. When she could breathe again, she kissed him tenderly. "You're my best friend, Draco, and I intend to keep you for a very long time."
They returned to their flat to find Harry waiting for them. Ron remained by the fireplace, glancing warily at his friend. "He was here when I got here," he told the couple.
"And why is he here?" Draco wondered, setting down his bags.
Harry stood tall as he glared at the blond. "I came-"
"If this is going to lead to a fight, I'd prefer you leave now," Hermione interrupted. "It's already been a long morning, and we still have a lot of work to do."
"I came to apologize," he said, his voice lacking any contrition.
Draco snorted. "Sure, because that sounded sincere," he muttered, earning an elbow to the ribs for his wisecrack.
Hermione beckoned Harry to follow her to the kitchen, warding it against Ron and Draco. "Draco wasn't wrong," she stated, taking a seat at the table. "I'm interested in knowing what's caused this change of heart."
Sighing, he sat down across from her. "Ron told us about his conversation with the both of you," he explained. "I figured if Ron can be okay with this, so can I. Ron's said he really has changed."
"And my telling you that wasn't good enough?" she asked indignantly. "That needed to come from Ron to make you accept that I made a new friend? At least I know where I stand with you now."
Hermione left the kitchen and returned to the living room. Draco and Ron were sorting and shelving his books, but the task was quickly forgotten when they spotted her. She shook her head, knowing they wanted details. "Is Potter still alive?" Draco asked, following her to the bedroom. Hermione nodded as she began to make room for his furniture. "I take it the apology didn't go well?"
"The words 'I'm sorry' were never actually said," she muttered. "I've been by his side through everything since we were children. I've risked my life more times than I can count for him. But I decide to befriend someone he doesn't like, and friendship over? If that's the way he intends to act, maybe it's better this way."
Draco frowned as he pulled her away from her task. "Is our month long friendship really worth losing Potter over?" he asked.
"I thought this was more than a friendship," she murmured, her voice sad as she sat down on the bed. "Anyway, you could be my husband, and Harry still wouldn't approve."
He sat beside her, but kept his hands to himself. "You didn't answer the question," he said softly. "Am I really worth losing Potter?"
"Yes, Draco," she told him. "You are."
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Ron returned to the Burrow, tired and hungry. Hermione had offered to feed him, but all he could think of was going home. A hot shower and a good meal were all he needed before going to sleep. But Harry had other ideas. "Go home, Harry," he grumbled, pushing past his friend to reach the stairs.
"So, what? You're mad at me too?" Harry asked, following Ron to his bedroom. As children, they had shared the room when Harry visited on holidays, but he no longer saw it as his room too.
"Do you want to know why I gave Malfoy a chance?" Ron demanded. "Because not doing that meant losing Hermione. I've lost her once. I wasn't going to make that mistake a second time. She's supposed to hate me for what I did to her. Instead, I'm the friend she comes to when she needs help. That should be you, Harry. You're supposed to love her like a sister. All that talk about caring about her, but you never took her side. Why did we never take her side?"
Sighing, Harry sat down on the spare bed. "You're right," he admitted. "Not that I can tell her that. It'll look like I'm once again siding with you. I just...I don't know how to make things right with her. Every time I try to apologize, she turns it around and finds another reason to be mad at me. I don't know what to do."
"Apologize, be sincere about it, and leave my name out of it," Ron advised.
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Ginny smirked as she waited for Hermione to get out of the shower. Malfoy's belongings now occupied the older witch's shelves. Hermione hated clutter, she noted to herself. She was smiling like the cat who got the canary when her friend finally appeared. "Are you going to be Draco Malfoy's sugar mama?" she inquired. Hermione stopped dead in her tracks, mouth agape. "This is just sex, right? But he's living with you. So, are you funding the lifestyle he was accustomed to?"
"That's ridiculous," Hermione muttered, finding her voice again. "We're friends, and yes, we're sleeping together. It's much easier to do that this way. I'm not financing his every move. Draco has more money than the last seven Ministers combined. Living together is just a matter of convenience."
The redhead nodded disbelievingly. Hermione Granger was not a gifted liar, and she could see through her friend's words. "Look, I'm not gonna judge," she assured her. "My brother said the two of you are good together. If you can forgive Malfoy for the past, and Ron can too, then I don't see a reason to hide your relationship."
"We're not hiding anything," Hermione replied defensively. "Draco's been good to me, and I don't want to ruin what we have by placing inappropriate labels on what we are. Sometimes sex is just sex, Gin."
"Except in this case," Ginny argued. "If you like him, give it a chance."
Sighing, Hermione sat down. "What if he does what Ron did?" she wondered, staring at the floor.
Ginny joined her on the sofa, putting an arm around her friend's shoulders. "What makes you think that would happen?" she asked softly. "Ron and Draco seem to be very different people, Mione. You're all he has, and I don't think he'll risk losing that. Ron, on the other hand, was in a place in his life where people were finally paying attention to him. I'm not defending what he did to you, just trying to rationalize the whole situation. The point I'm attempting to make is, from everything Ron's said, Draco cares about you so much. He's not going to mess this up."
Hermione nodded, hoping she was right. More surprising than her words of encouragement was her support. Ginny was often far and away the most stubborn Weasley, and it took a great deal to change her mind. Another ally could be just what she needed.
The front door opened and closed, and Draco came into view. He glanced first at Ginny, then Hermione. "Should I come back later?" he asked.
Hermione rose to greet him, letting him know he was safe. "Ginny seems okay with this," she whispered, kissing his cheek.
"Good to hear," he replied, catching the smirk on the redhead's face. "How long will she be here? We need to talk."
Ginny got to her feet. "Harry's treating me to lunch," she told them. "He doesn't know it yet, but he is. We'll talk again soon. Malfoy, good seeing you."
When she was gone, Draco led Hermione to the sofa and sat. "I told my mother," he said. "I thought she should know my new address. She just stared at me like she had no idea who I was."
"Because...because of us?" Hermione wondered nervously.
Her question was met with a heavy, tired sigh. "I don't know," he admitted. "I told her we're living together and planning to give dating a go, and she just stared. When I finished, she asked me if I'd read that new book on cures for dragon pox because she thinks she's coming down with something. The caretaker came in just before I left, and my mother was quick to acknowledge her. Well, she told her to get out, but she clearly knew who she was. I was like a gnat buzzing in her ear."
"What are you going to do?" she asked, holding his hand.
He released a deep breath as he shook his head. "I know what I need to do, but I don't want to do it," he replied. "I've already lost one parent, I'm not sure I can lose another."
If anyone understood, it was Hermione. Though they had survived the war and the memory charm, her parents hadn't spoken to her since returning to England. It had been years since the Grangers had seen each other, and Hermione didn't wish that on her worst enemy. "You know I'll help in whatever way I can," she murmured, kissing his cheek.
He nodded, though there was nothing she could do. "You could...attempt to take my mind off this," he told her, flashing a devious smile.
"So, cookie dough and Audrey Hepburn movies?" she asked, standing and pulling him to his feet.
Kissing her, he nodded before leading her to their bedroom. Movies and sweets were forgotten the second her back hit the bed. Draco pulled away just long enough to say, "I love you."
She held him at bay as he attempted to kiss her again. "You...you love me?" she asked, flabbergasted by his declaration.
"Yes, I do," he replied. "It's not the shagging or getting to see you naked, though both are nice. I just...you're the only person in my life that I want in my life. No one's ever made me as happy as you do. You made it okay to be happy again."
"I did that?" she whispered.
Nodding, he kissed her forehead. "Yes, you did, and that's why I love you," he told her.
Her arms wound around his neck, pulling him closer to her lips. "You did the same for me," she said, kissing him tenderly. "It wasn't supposed to be like this. We agreed not to get attached."
"Do you regret it?" he wondered. If she did, they might be over.
"No, I don't," she assured him. "Because I love you."
The End