A/n: Written for the A-Maze-Ing Race Challenge
Prompt: garden
Pairing: Draco/Hermione
"Let me show you the garden," Draco said confidently, stepping to his feet. He stared down at Hermione, whose bushy brown hair was all over the place. Her eyes were wild, red-rimmed and glaring at him like she hated him more than anyone else. Her hands were bound in front of her with a length of charmed rope—no matter how many spells Hermione cast, it would not come off. That was his Aunt Bella's doing. "Are you coming?"
Hermione spluttered, staring up at him again. "No, I ruddy well am not coming! Tell me Malfoy, why in the world would I go anywhere with you?"
"You're my guest."
"Guest," she scoffed. "More like prisoner."
Draco kneeled down so he was at her level. "You're not my prisoner, Granger. I couldn't care less if you're here or not. In fact, I want you gone so much that I'm willing to risk my life for it." He opened his robes and showed her the inside pocket. He knew from the look in her eyes that she saw the glint of the silver dagger and her wand there, so he closed his robes hastily. She jumped to her feet.
"That's what I thought," he muttered, and he guided her out the back door to see his garden.
She gasped when she saw it; that was everyone's reaction. He and his mother had spent months, no years, on this garden, and it had truly shown. There were patches of sunflowers eight feet high, a field of lilies almost as wide as his whole bedroom, and a beautiful ivy archway over a stone bench. He loved it out in the garden; he would come out here when no one was paying much attention to him, and he would think. He thought about how his family was going down the tubes, how Voldemort was taking over their lives. He thought about how much he hated Potter and the Weasel, and how beautiful Hermione had gotten over the years.
But he would never tell her that.
"Why are you being so nice to me?" she said quietly, sitting down on the bench. She pulled at the ropes to no avail.
"I'm not quite sure," he replied, making sure he was hidden by the sunflowers and taking the dagger out of his cloak. He hoped it would work—Merlin, this thing could pick any magical lock, he hoped that it could break a charmed rope. He kneeled down in front of her and began sawing at the rope. Sure enough, it began to rip, and he noticed Hermione's smile. "You don't deserve any of this. I don't care that you're Mudblood or you're on the run with bloody Harry Potter. You shouldn't be held captive where Voldemort's headquarters is. Merlin, even I hate it here and I belong."
She smiled slightly, and watched him for a moment as he cut the rope. Almost halfway now—
"Are you sure? You always seemed like you hated me before."
"Oh, that hasn't changed, Granger. I still don't like you." He saw her face turn up in a smile. "Why are you smiling?"
"Because you not liking me is so… normal."
Draco smirked. "Would you rather me called you Mudblood instead of Granger?"
"No, sorry, that's a little too much." The rope gave and Hermione examined her wrists, running her finger along one of the long burn marks. She frowned slightly, but looked at him expectantly. "Do you have my wand so I can Apparate?"
He nodded, and pulled her wand out of his pocket. He handed it to her with a quick glance over her shoulder and she pocketed it quickly, not wanting Draco to get punished. "Go. Before someone catches you. Don't say I never did anything for you."
"Thank you, Draco," she whispered, and kissed him on the cheek before she disappeared in a quick spin and a gust of wind.
