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Chapter One

Meeting The Grangers

It was the first time in Hermione Granger's life that she wasn't sad to leave Hogwarts, in fact it was a relief to get out of the train! Since Draco Malfoy had been disowned by his family, and rejected by his friends he was forced to sit with hers. The problem? Her best friends, Harry Potter, and Ron Weasley were not fond of Draco in any way. Ron refused to stop calling him ferret, and Harry only spoke one word to him, "hi." Nevielle Longbottom wouldn't even come into the compartment. Though she hushed Ron every time he insulted, she didn't blame them, not in the least bit. Draco had been awful to them for five years, in fact he was supposed to be her murderer, but that was another story entirely.

Hermione was aware how little sense it made for her to be dating him, a pureblood, an ex-deatheater. She didn't care. Not anymore. They truly cared for one another, and he made her happy. That was all that mattered, right?

On the platform packed with students, and parents, Hermione couldn't help but cast a nervous glance around. She half expected Draco's father to show up. Not to pick up his son, of course, but to curse them. It wasn't her immense logic speaking, but the slight paranoia.

Harry with his usual untidy hair, and thick glasses accompanied the red-haired Weasley's who approached them. Molly, Ron's mother, a plump woman pulled Hermione in a tight hug just like she did to her daughter Ginny.

"Have a good summer, dear. You must come by if only for a week. Ron will owl you."

Hermione smiled kindly, and felt Draco stiffen beside her. "That's really nice of you, Mrs. Weasley."

"Oh, and you too, of course, Malfoy."

Ron, and George gaped at this, and Draco's eyes widened in surprise. "I wouldn't like to impose."

"Impose? No, not at all -"

"Mum," Ron growled. "He says he doesn't want to impose, don't push him."

"Hush Ronald," she snapped before turning back to Draco. "You are more than welcome to accompany Hermione. We'll expect you there. I'm sure Harry's told you he's staying with us."

"Yes, ma'am, he did."

The day after Voldemort died Mrs. Weasley told Harry that he would be staying with them until he graduated, and secured a job. Harry was opt to decline, he already had a house, the one his godfather owned previously before his death, and plenty of money left from his parents. Mrs. Weasley wouldn't hear of it, and Harry being only slightly fearful of her took her up on the offer.

Ron, Ginny, and Harry hugged her goodbye as they left the station. Hermione, and Draco waited there on the platform with their luggage, along with her cat Crookshanks hissing in his wicker basket. Hermione peered through the crowds searching for her parents, standing on tiptoe to see over the heads. Draco stared at his overly expensive shoes; she could feel his apprehension in waves.

"It'll be okay," she assured.

"What if they hate me?"

Hermione laughed, and he glared. "Draco, do you remember what I told you before we... You know... The first time."

He gave her a blank stare.

"The first time. Our first time."

It dawned on him, "oh! Yeah, sure I remember."

"What did I say?"

"Um, something about your parents thinking I'd be perfect for you."

A man with her brown hair, and a woman with her slender figure came walking towards them, grinning from ear to ear. "Keep that thought, here they are."

Draco snapped his head up, standing to attention as though he were in the military. Hermione suppressed a laugh as she hugged her parents. "Mum, dad, this is Draco."

He nearly jumped out of his skin when her mother hugged him, but he quickly got over this, and shook her father's hand. "Mr. Granger," he said formerly.

"So, you are the same Draco Malfoy that our daughter has told us so much about."

"Dad," Hermione mumbled warningly.

"Thank you, sir," Draco said thinking he was being praised, and Hermione was simply embarrassed.

"No need to thank me, I just find it ironic that the boy she has claimed that hated her is in fact now dating her. Didn't you curse her in your fourth year?"

Any color that was in Draco's pale features was gone. He looked as though the worst possible scenario of this event were coming true. "Yes, sir, I did," he admitted through clenched teeth.

"Alfred, stop that, he's our guest," Mrs. Granger hissed as he took his daughters trunk.

In an attempt to relax them both Hermione took Draco's hand in hers, his being a little clammy, and calloused from his years as a Seeker. He clutched her like a scared child would clutch their security blanket. Walking to the car her hand started to hurt. "Draco," she whispered trying to wiggle her fingers out of his hold.

"Sorry," he said, his voice far off as if he was in a trance.

They approached their simple blue car near the end of the vast parking lot, and Draco's brows furrowed in worry. "Your parents really drive these things," he asked amazed.

She laughed in good nature. "Yes, it's muggle transportation."

"Is it safe?"

"As safe as flooing." She remembered her first experience with flooing, and it wasn't pleasant. She thought she would seriously be injured, or die from the swirling soot, and grates passing. It was almost as bad as flying. She could only imagine what Draco must be thinking, climbing into a hunk of metal.

When their trunks were secured in the boot they got in the car, her, and Draco with the wicker basket settled in the backseat. He jumped as the engine started making the car lightly vibrate. She took his hand again when he was startled by it moving, backing out of the space, and moving forward. He was completely entranced by it, and Hermione watched him sweetly. "Wow," he breathed.

She recalled the time that they went shopping in the muggle town. He reminded her vaguely of Mr. Weasley as he pushed numerous buttons unaware of what they would do. She would never tell him that, of course, his hatred for the Weasley's had lessened, but not enough that he would think it a compliment by any sorts.

"So, Draco, is it?" Her father asked from the drivers seat, glancing in the review mirror at them.

"Yes, sir."

"That's an odd name."

Draco laughed, and Hermione knew he was thinking of a sarcastic comment so she gave him a glare. "It's after the constellation of the dragon," he replied with as much kindness as he could muster.

Her mother twisted in her seat to look back to them. "I think it's a nice name. Alfred, and I named Hermione after the Shakespeare play of The Winters Tale."

He smiled at her as she shrugged her shoulders. "A great author."

Her father spoke then. "Draco, I am curious, what are you going to do after Hogwarts?"

Hermione knew that he was interrogating him, like most fathers do to their dates, but it didn't cease the blush that crept along Hermione's cheek. She decided to look out the window, and let them talk, but kept listening. She might be needed to interfere.

"I'd like to be in Ministry work, head of Misuse of Magical Artifacts."

Mr. Granger appeared blank by that answer. Hermione was very close to her parents, hence why they knew about Draco's bullying, but she didn't reveal a lot about her world. Her parents believed that not everything could be solved by magic. Even if they were allowed to use magic outside of Hogwarts, she knew that she would have limited use of it anyway. Her parents wouldn't settle washing the dishes with a flick of a wand.

"That sounds nice," her father said. "What exactly happened with your parents?"

"Alfred, that's none of our business," Mrs. Granger scolded.

"If he's staying with us I think we have the right to know."

Draco was about to speak, but Hermione cut across him. "Dad, I told you. His parents, and him were in an argument -"

"What kind of argument?"

Draco this time spoke up, "my father wanted me in his line of work after Hogwarts, sir, and I like to live my own life."

"What kind of work does he do?"
If Hermione spared anything from her parents it was about the dark arts. They knew about deatheaters, and even Voldemort, but she never gave them a reason to think that she was fighting it. They knew nothing about the adventures in her school, nothing about sorcerer's stones, basilisks, criminals, and all the close calls her, and her friends had. She told them about Draco, about his bullying, the fighting, but that was all he was in those letters. If they knew...

"He's a head of one of the departments in the ministry, but not the department I'd like to be in."

She smiled. He was good at this, answering questions quickly. She knew then that he had been practicing, that he thought it all out.

Mr. Granger tapped his fingers on the wheel thinking hard of another question. The car slowed to a stop at a light, and Hermione noticed how green Draco had become.

"Are you okay," she asked concerned.

"Nauseas."

"Car sick."

"What's that?"

She shook her head. "We're almost home."

Draco then grabbed the handle of the door throwing his weight against it. He fell onto the pavement, and retched on the side of the road. Hermione quickly scooted out of the open door, and knelt by him running her hand along his back.

Her dad rolled down his window to stare at the two. "Is he alright?"

"He's fine, dad. Just a little car sick."

Draco wiped his brow with the back of his sleeve. "I'm fine..."

Hermione helped him back to the car, reluctant on his part to be taken care of, but he let her nonetheless. When they were settled, the light changed, and the car moved forward again. At least her father had stopped asking him questions for the time being. Dinner was going to be interesting.