Chapter 1: Introductions

"Humans have a knack for choosing precisely the things that are worst for them." - Albus Dumbledore.

Dumbledore's office looked much the same as it always has, with it's whirring instruments and snoring portraits. Hermione hadn't been in there since fourth year, and her memories of that particular trip are a bit hazy and tinged with fear, but she'd rather be back there about to be frozen than in the present. Surely, Dumbledore was not really asking her this.

"Excuse me?"

"Miss Granger, I am aware that you and Mr Malfoy have a certain history together; contrary to popular belief, us teachers are not blind to the happenings of the student community," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling. "But I assure you, I would not ask you of this if it weren't absolutely essential."

"Forgive my bluntness, Professor Dumbledore, but I still don't understand why Malfoy has to stay at my house over the summer," Hermione said, twisting her fingers around each other. Dumbledore leapt into an explanation.

"The Order believes that Death Eaters and pure bloods alike are after Draco Malfoy. It's a likely assumption on my behalf that they are out to kill him. He needs to go into hiding, but as it is over the holidays I am not able to protect him. I believe he will be safest with you. You are a remarkable student and have proven yourself capable of much more than anyone would ever expect from you. Besides that, and I mean no disrespect by casually disregarding your outstanding academic achievements, but I do believe that the muggle world is the last place any threat would expect to find Mister Malfoy."

Hermione couldn't find fault in Dumbledore's logic, but the twisting in her stomach tried to convince her to find one. "Professor, I really don't think..."

"Remember, this is for his safety. I would only entrust his protection to you, Miss Granger. I know that you are capable of handling him."

Truthfully, Hermione couldn't imagine anything worse than being stuck with Malfoy in the muggle world for nine weeks. She didn't want to inflict his presence upon herself, or her family, and she didn't want to taint her muggle life with him.

"You are aware of the depth of his distaste for me, right?" Hermione said, abandoning her respectful demeanour. "How he hates muggleborns, has insulted me on several occasions, cursed me, and so much more? And you want me to bring him into my life - my own world - where he can use everything against me to bully me even more?"

Dumbledore's eyes drifted from Hermione's face to the top of his desk, then to Fawkes, and over the portraits on the walls (a few of whom now had their eyes open, and more than one muttering about Hermione's lack of respect).

"We have all made mistakes," Dumbledore said quietly. "And whilst I do not expect you to be able to put such horrific behaviour behind you, I do hope that you can put it aside, if only for the time being, for the greater good. Of course, Mister Malfoy has already agreed to be on his best behaviour, and is aware of the consequences should he do anything... discourteous."

Hermione snorted. Malfoy's opinion of "best behaviour" and her opinion would differ greatly, she knew. "And what happens when he screws up?" she asked.

"He won't," Dumbledore replied with a smile. "I shall inform him that he has one chance with you, or he's gone."

"One chance," Hermione repeated. "Okay. Nine weeks isn't really that long, anyway, is it?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Thank you, Miss Granger."

As Hermione left Dumbledore's office, his last note ran through her brain. 'I must impress the seriousness of the situation upon you, Miss Granger, and ask that you tell no one of your, ah, holiday plans," he had said. How was she supposed to get through nine weeks of Draco Malfoy without being able to complain to Harry or Ron or Ginny about it?

"Don't worry about me, Granger, I can look after myself," Draco snarled at Hermione. She bristled.

"I'm sure you can, Malfoy," Hermione snapped. "But Dumbledore asked, and I agreed, and that's the way it is."

"What, did he bribe you with automatic O's for every N.E.W.T you attempted? Granger, I never knew you were so low."

"Is this your definition of being on your best behaviour?" Hermione demanded, yanking her trunk along behind her as she hurried along. She was annoyed, having had to cut her goodbye's with the Weasley's and Harry short, because Malfoy was waiting for her a little further down the station, a scowl on his face. She had only been in his presence for less than five minutes, and they were already fighting.

Draco scoffed. "Please. I told Dumbledore I'd behave in the muggle world. Nobody said anything about the trip there."

Hermione's frustration must have shown on her face, because Draco didn't say anything further. "Come on, I want to be home before dinner," Hermione said, leading him out of King's Cross.

She lead the way to a deserted street not too far from the station. It was a sketchy alleyway that reeked of urine and mould, and Hermione would have preferred to apparate away from there as quickly as possible, but Draco was taking his time, carefully analysing everything he saw. He was particularly enraptured by a telephone booth.

"What's this, Granger?" he asked eventually, when his curiosity got the better of him.

"It's a telephone booth," Hermione replied impatiently, "Muggles use it to talk to each other. Can you please hurry up, this alleyway stinks."

Draco's pace didn't increase, but when he was within ear shot Hermione heard him muttering about the Weasley family, and living in a pig sty, and she figured it was better for her not to ask him to repeat himself.

"Now, take my arm. We'll apparate to my house."

Draco sneered at her. "I'm not holding on to you, Granger. Just tell me where it is and I'll get there later."

"Don't lie to me, Malfoy. I know you're not of age yet and therefore you can't apparate."

"I'll walk."

"Rubbish. Get over yourself."

"No."

"Oh, for crying out loud," Hermione snapped. She grabbed his arm roughly, held on to him tight and turned, thinking of nothing but home.

Draco knew better than to wrench his arm out of her grip while apparating, so he waited until his feet felt firm ground before doing so. Hermione's resulting glare made him feel like he accomplished something particularly vile, and he was proud. He followed her up the pathway to the front door. The garden was split down the middle by the path and was small, but it was nicely kept, if not immaculate like the Manor. Daffodils lined the path. The door was a light brown colour.

Hermione opened the door and took out her trunk from her pocket, unshrinking it in the entry hall. "Mum! Dad! We're here!"

Two heads appeared over the banister of the staircase on their right. "Hermione? Oh, my baby girl, you're home!"

Draco could only guess that it was Granger's mother and father rushing down the stairs. Mrs Granger had bushy hair like Hermione's, and was equally short. Hermione had inherited her father's eyes.

Mr Granger reached his daughter first, pushing Mrs Granger out of the way. This made Hermione laugh. Mrs Granger hugged Draco instead.

"Oh, you're a fine young man, aren't you?" she said mainly to herself, her hands roaming down Draco's arms as she appraised him.

"Thank you Ma'am," he said. There were no excuses now; he was in the muggle world, and as per his promise to Dumbledore, it was time to be on his best behaviour, regardless of how little he wanted to be there. Mrs Granger smiled and left him to hug Hermione, whispering in her ear words that Draco couldn't hear.

"He's a good-looking man, Hermione. You never mentioned that!"

Hermione rolled her eyes at her mother. "Mum," she groaned.

Mr Granger shook Draco's hand firmly. "Draco Malfoy," he said formally. "We meet at last." Mrs Granger slapped his arm.

"Stop it, Steve. You're scaring the poor boy."

Mr Granger grinned. "Sorry, Lisa."

"What's for tea, Mum?" Hermione asked, her stomach grumbling. Draco's was too, though he didn't bother to say so.

"Sausages, dear. I suppose you both are starving?" They all nodded, Mr Granger included. "Well, go get settled," Mrs Granger said enthusiastically, clapping her hands. "Hermione, show Draco his room and help him unpack. Tea is in thirty minutes."

Hermione nodded and headed upstairs, dragging her trunk behind her. Draco wondered why she didn't leave it shrunk.

"Are your parents always like that?" he asked. Hermione nodded.

"Yes. That's your room there," she said, pointing to a white door. She opened it and left Draco alone.

Hermione went into the room opposite Draco's, dumping her trunk at the end of her bed to unpack later. She lay flat over her bed, smelling the faded laundry detergent her mother used, and looked around the room she hadn't used for half of her life. The walls were an off white colour, her mosquito net made of white lace. Her bed covers were an array of grey and silver, a black comforter at the end. There was a deep purple rug on the floor so soft she could sleep on it without complaining. In the corner next to her bed was a pile of stuffed toys; all furry and soft, none of that fabric which reminded Hermione of cheap carpet.

Her closet doors stood partly open, which she shut quickly. The dressing table was completely clear, all her accessories were in her trunk. Sighing, she decided she couldn't ignore her guest for any longer regardless of how much she'd like to, and entered Draco's room.

Draco hadn't unshrunk his trunk yet, and probably wouldn't have even if he was capable of doing so. It was sitting on his plain white covers, a pathetic black square. He wandered around the room looking into the closet, the drawers. He sat on the edge of the bed, feeling the softness of the green comforter. Granger must have told her parents what house he belonged to. He looked at the table in front of the window, noticing the tall rectangular mirror engraved into the wall next to it. It had a thin black border. He stood in front of it, looking at himself.

His hair was ruffled, a startling platinum blonde. His grey eyes fit in nicely with his pointed face, despite the bags beneath them. His long sleeved light blue shirt and black slacks looked good on him.

Draco looked away when he saw Hermione's reflection there too.

"What is it, Granger?" he snapped. "I have stuff to do."

"Like what?" she questioned, flicking a switch. The room looked much brighter.

"Light switch. You might want to use that every now and then," Hermione said easily. Draco glared.

"Shut up, Granger. I knew."

Hermione ignored him and moved about the room, checking everything was in order. She waved her wand and Draco's trunk returned to its original size, the clothes folded themselves into the closet, and everything else found places in the room. It looked lived in.

"I could've done that myself," he grumbled.

"I'm just trying to be nice," Hermione said, a hand on her hip. "You're going to be here for a while, I figured we could at least try to start this off with a bit of civility. But I can see you don't agree."

Draco didn't meet her gaze, but didn't confirm or deny her accusation.

"Tea's ready," she said as she left for the door. She waited for Draco to walk past her. Together they went down the stairs, Hermione keeping at least two stairs distance between them. The smell of sausages and pasta wafted out of the kitchen.

"Smells great, Mum," Hermione said, gesturing for Draco to choose a seat. He picked the one closest to him and sat. Hermione sat opposite Draco, pulling in her chair. Mrs Granger placed their plates in front of them swiftly. Draco took a subtle but deep breath of his dinner. By all standards, it looked good. Although it was nothing like the Hogwarts meals.

"You're in my seat, son," Mr Granger growled. Draco turned to see Mr Granger standing over his shoulder, a playful look in his eyes. Draco's glare disappeared and he smirked instead.

"Steve!"

"Sorry, love."

"Draco, if you wish you can choose a channel on the television," Mrs Granger said kindly.

"Mum," Hermione muttered while Draco shook his head.

"No thank you, Mrs Granger," he said politely. Like I know what a tele-whatever is.

"Oh, I forget you don't... oh, I'm sorry dear," she said, looking very flustered. "Well, maybe we just won't watch it tonight." She picked up the black remote and pressed the off button.

"Hermione, Jade has been calling for the last week," Mr Granger said around a mouthful of pasta. Hermione scrunched up her nose and looked away.

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Hermione and Mrs Granger said at the same time. They smiled at each other. "And yes, Dad. I'll call her tomorrow."

He nodded approvingly. "Good."

Mr and Mrs Granger talked loudly to each other across the table. Draco kicked Hermione's leg.

Jade? he mouthed. Hermione shook her head at him.

Later.

Hermione had a feeling he would like her. And that didn't make her feel too good.