This was a pinch-hit I wrote for angeepang as part of the last round of the dmhgficexchange on livejournal. This hasn't been beta'd by anyone except me, so I claim full responsibility for any remaining mistakes! I hope you all enjoy, and feedback would be greatly appreciated!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, I merely enjoy playing around in JKR's glorious sandbox.

Changes

by alexa johnson

It had begun, of all places, in a supermarket.

If Draco Malfoy had known the events that would follow, he might never have even gone anywhere near it. Or maybe he still would have, because he probably wouldn't have cared enough to go through the effort to find another place to shop.

And that, right there, was the heart of all the problems in his life at the moment.

He didn't care.

About anything.

The only reason he was even stepping out of the uncomfortably small flat he shared with his mother was because they were running dangerously low on food, and even though the Malfoys had been stripped of their name, money, and property, his mother refused to let go of her pride even if her airs were out of place in the respectable—but by no means wealthy—Muggle neighborhood they now lived in.

The adjustment had been hard to say the least, and with father thrown into Azkaban prison for life, he had barely known what to do with the patriarchal mantel suddenly thrust onto his shoulders. Malfoy Manor had quickly fallen into Ministry hands after the War and the majority of their money soon went in the same direction, claimed as reparations they owed for the war crimes they—well, mostly father—had committed.

He wasn't quite sure what he would've done if it weren't for his mother—in spite of everything, he was still a Malfoy, so he certainly wouldn't have starved or been homeless—but she certainly helped motivate him to get them somewhat back on their feet.

Now, though, it was like some outside force had drained all the energy out of him. He would probably even forget about getting food if mother didn't nag him constantly. While his old self would have gotten annoyed at the constant pestering, his new self had decided that summoning energy even for mere annoyance just wasn't worth the effort, and had chosen to settle on apathy instead.

Heaving a sigh, he leaned against the shopping cart and reached into his trouser pocket to pull out a crumpled piece of paper. Scanning the list quickly, he saw he only needed one more item. He looked up to see what aisle he had wandered into, and saw that he was actually in the right place.

Just as he was reaching for a bag of pasta, he felt something tugging at his trousers.

Stopping halfway, he looked down and found himself staring at a small girl with bushy red hair and goggled at her. There was only one person he'd met in his lifetime who had hair like that, and he thought briefly about leaving the toddler there before having to face any unwelcome confrontations.

But something held him rooted to the spot.

"I can't find my mum," the child said, big brown eyes misted with tears. "Have you seen her?"

He searched wildly for something to say, but his mind kept coming up blank. It didn't help that he had never really known how to respond to small children. "Um—"

He probably would've finished with something more intelligent, when a woman's frantic voice broke through the relatively hushed noises in the market. "Rose? Rose?"

Even though it had been a handful of years, there was no doubt whom that voice belonged to, and soon the woman herself walked into view, but she was so distracted that she hadn't registered his presence yet.

Granger.

Merlin, help him.

"Mummy!" Rose cried, turning from him to run into her mother's outstretched arms.

"There you are! I've been looking all over for you," she scolded, scooping up her daughter and planting a kiss on her head. "What have I told you about leaving my sight? I'm so sorry if my daughter's bothered you, sir—"

Then she lifted her head, and really looked at him.

Her mouth fell open slightly.

Here it comes, he thought, knowing he only had himself to blame. You really are a glutton for punishment, aren't you?

"Malfoy?"

His lip curled just out of habit. "Unfortunately. If you can't keep track of your kid, Granger, maybe you should consider investing in a leash. Or is it Weasley now?"

She stiffened, and he saw her arms around Rose tighten slightly. "I don't see how that's any of your business. Fancy seeing you here in a Muggle supermarket…aren't you worried you might catch some fatal illness?"

"Now that you mention it—" he broke off to cough into his hand harshly, "I think I might be coming down with something dreadful."

Rose craned her neck around to peer at him. "Do you know him, Mummy?"

"Yes, darling—we went to school together."

Draco had to admit—only to himself, of course—that the kid was a little cute, even if it were Granger and Weasel's spawn.

"Oh," said Rose, immediately disinterested. "Can we go home now, Mummy? I'm tired."

Granger laughed. "Soon, love, soon—I just have to get a few more things, and then we can leave, all right?"

Her eyes look over him again, with a little curiosity this time. "Why are you in a Muggle supermarket anyway, Malfoy? I've been shopping here about once a week since I moved into the neighborhood a couple months ago and I don't recall ever seeing you—I'm pretty sure I would remember."

He shrugged, the apathy starting to descend upon him again. "There's a lot of time in a week for one to shop, Granger. Just because you haven't seen me doesn't mean I haven't been around."

"I suppose."

He was just trying to think of a way to get himself out of this situation when Rose unexpectedly gave him a hand. "Mumm-y…"

"Okay, darling, okay." The curiosity had turned into a shade of thoughtfulness. "Well, er, I should be going…"

He shrugged again, lips quirking upwards slightly in a small smirk. "And hopefully there won't be a next time."

She shook her head. "You really are incorrigible, Malfoy."

He grinned unrepentantly at her. "It's part of my charm."

"As much as I would love to stay and debate this issue, I have slightly more important matters to attend to."

There was no way he could let her go with the last word. "Are you trying to insinuate that I don't have charm, Granger? I'm a Malfoy—I'm the very embodiment of the word!"

She snorted. "Right, and Voldemort was the embodiment of love. Good day, Malfoy."

And before he could get another word in, she had pushed her cart out of sight.

Hermione Granger.

Of all the people he had to run in to, why had it been her?

He'd spent enough time with Muggles now to have heard the overused cliché it's a small world, but surely--surely no world could be that fucking small.

Even though it hadn't been infused with as much malice, he was still a little bit disturbed by the way he'd easily fallen into the old banter of their school days, which seemed so long ago that they might as well have happened in another lifetime all together.

The last time he'd seen her had been at his father's trial, and there had been no verbal exchange, just nods of acknowledgment when they'd passed each other in the crowd. Harry Potter had vouched for his mother, and his youth had saved him, at least from prison.

There had been many who had been outraged that only one Malfoy was going to prison, and their prestige had quickly plummeted afterward. It had gotten so bad that he hadn't been able to show his face in public for more than five minutes without being spat at or cursed, and he'd finally found drive to get a flat for him and his mother in the Muggle part of town, as distasteful as the option had been at the time.

And the adjustment had been hard.

All those bloody Muggle appliances had been about damned near impossible to figure out, although he'd come around to admitting that the telly and cell phones were useful.

There was just one thing he'd adamantly refused to do, and that was to get in a car.

It wasn't because he was scared—definitely not. He was a Malfoy for crying out loud. But with all the countless accidents he heard on the news a day, there was no way in hell he was about to put his life into some other reckless driver's hands by getting behind the wheel of one of the stupid vehicles.

But not knowing how to drive didn't bother him—he rarely left the flat anyway, and when he did he could always walk to wherever it was he was going, and if it was too far he could simply Apparate.

He wondered idly where in the neighborhood Granger lived. He remembered her saying that she'd just moved in a somewhat recently, and even though he'd just glanced at her hand he'd taken note of her missing wedding band.

Curious.

Very curious indeed.

After that encounter, it seemed as though he were running into her all the time, and they'd fallen into something that could've even been called a routine.

She usually went to the store Friday or Saturday, and—whether he was conscious of it or not—had begun going on those days too. He had felt something in those few minutes he'd spent around her that he hadn't felt in a long time, something he wasn't sure he'd be able to feel again. He'd felt alive, and almost like his old self.

It was something he just didn't have the energy to do by himself, so he fed off hers.

She always had Rose with her, and the little girl had somehow stirred up certain emotions in him that he'd tried to shut down completely after the War. He'd even reluctantly admitted to himself that Granger was all right. She had apparently finally come to the conclusion that cramming everything she knew about a topic into one sentence was annoying, not impressive, and talking with her was relaxing and helped him get his mind off his mother.

And that was all it was.

Although lately he was spending more time violently squashing the whispers in his head that thought there were more reasons than that.

Malfoy,

I wasn't sure how else to contact you, so I've sent my owl. I have to work a surprise shift at the library this evening, and I can't find anyone available to baby-sit Rose this last minute. I absolutely hate to have to ask you, but if you're able, would you possibly mind watching her for a few hours?

You know I would only be asking you if I had nowhere else to turn.

I have my number for you at the bottom, so please call me!

Yours,

Hermione Granger

When the owl had tapped at his window he had been reading in his room, and it had flown off as soon as he'd taken the note, looking only slightly put out when he didn't have any food to offer it and refused to go and get some.

Staring sightlessly at the wall, the note hung limply from his fingers as he sat there lost in thought.

He didn't really want to and didn't exactly care that she couldn't find anyone else, but if he did this for her she would be in his debt.

He thought about that for a moment, and supposed it was proof of how much he had changed that knowing that didn't really give him much pleasure.

Sighing, he took at his phone and punched in his number, not really knowing what he was going to say but not really caring enough to sit much longer so he could make up his mind.

After all—some decisions were made best in the spur of the moment.

He'd insisted he wasn't doing this out of any goodness in his heart—he didn't have any, and especially not for Granger—but she'd laughed and said she was just grateful he'd agreed.

She was beaming at him when he opened the door, and impulsively—for it must have been an impulse—hugged him.

He just stood there, arms hanging uncomfortably by his side, not really knowing how to respond, and almost breathed a sigh of relief when she released him.

"Sorry," she said, pushing her hair out of her face and giving him a slightly embarrassed smile. "I had been getting worried—usually I can always find one person willing to look after Rose when unexpected things like this pop up, but everyone was busy. I can afford to only have a part-time job at the library, but someone canceled at the last minute, and I was the only one available to step in. I can't thank you enough."

Granger gushing at him like this was just—strange and surreal, and he just nodded, unable to really look at her. "It's, uh, not a problem. Really."

She led him into the living room, which was spacious but not large. There was a couch pushed against the far wall, a television at the opposite end, and a table in the middle with books and papers strewn all over it. Rose was curled up on the couch clutching a small, stuffed bear to her chest, thoroughly engrossed in whatever she was watching on the telly.

"Draco's here to stay with you now Rose, and you do exactly as he says while I'm gone, okay?"

Rose didn't even take her eyes away from the telly. "Yes, mummy."

Turning back to him, she said, "I should be back in a few hours, and I've already fed her so you won't have to worry about that. She's already started watching The Little Mermaid, so that should keep her occupied." She gave him an apologetic smile. "Sorry again for having you do this."

"I don't mind." A part of him actually did mind, but his witty and sarcastic comebacks had momentarily abandoned him, and he also wasn't really in the mood for their usual sparring.

"Well, I should be going…she has other movies she can pick from when this one is finished."

He nodded and jammed his hands into the pockets of his jacket, suddenly feeling a little awkward. "Got it."

"I'll be back soon, Rosie—be good while I'm gone!" Granger called, and then swept out the house, leaving Draco standing there in a bit of a daze.

"So, The Little Mermaid, huh?" he asked in an attempt at conversation as he ambled over to sit beside her.

She finally peeled her eyes away from the screen to look at him. "Uh huh," she said seriously. "Do you like The Little Mermaid Mr. Draco?"

"I've never seen it before, actually," he confessed.

She gasped and her brown eyes widened. "Never?"

He shrugged his shoulders apologetically, unable to resist a smile. "Never. But I can fix that now, can't I?"

She grinned at him, and when she shifted her position so that she was lying on her side with her head on his lap, it felt natural to him to put an arm around her once he'd gotten over his initial shock.

It had been so long since someone had accepted him for who he was—it didn't matter that Rose was too young to know of his past and judge his actions, or come to conclusion about him just because of his last name. He hadn't felt anything like this in years.

And it felt—good.

"Malfoy—Malfoy, wake up!"

His eyelids struggled open, and once his bleary vision focused he found himself staring into Granger's face, which wore an expression he couldn't quite decipher.

He yawned and rubbed at his eyes. "Your spawn is exhausting, Granger. I guess that's one trait she's inherited from you."

She laughed. "You were just watching movies, Malfoy. What'd she do, talk you to death? She did behave herself though, right?"

He grumbled a reluctant yes and stretched, careful not to disrupt the slumbering toddler.

"Really though—I cannot thank you enough for doing this for me. I would hate for you to be in my debt, so…how would you feel about my taking you out to dinner this week?"

He grinned at her impishly. "Why, Granger! Are you asking me out on a date?"

She scowled at him. "No, I am most certainly not."

His grin only got bigger, because he knew it would irritate her and he just simply could not help himself. "I just thought I'd ask, because I've been asked out on many dates in the past, and that's kind of how they sounded."

"It is not a date, Malfoy," she said, and he felt a spark of triumph at the annoyance that crept into her voice. "I just want to repay you for looking after Rose."

He wasn't sure how he felt about spending an entire evening alone with Granger, but now that his apathy was beginning to slip away, his mother was starting to get on his nerves, and he supposed it would actually be nice to get out of the flat for a little.

Especially if he were being offered free food…

The grin turned sly. "You've got yourself a date, Granger!"

She just shook her head and sighed.

He was going out.

With Granger.

What was he thinking?

Was he even thinking?

The times they'd seen each other in the supermarket had been all right, because that had been chance. Even the talking had been acceptable—true, he had wanted to know what had become of the Weasel, but his pervasive feeling of apathy had dampened his usual cruelty.

He'd actually discovered—much to his surprise and horror—that it had been a relief to be able to talk with someone who matched his intelligence level, and the fact that this was Granger had somehow stopped to matter.

Now, though, it did.

What was he getting himself into?

She'd insisted it wasn't a date, but the mere fact that he'd even agreed to spend extra time with her was alarming. Did this mean that he actually—Merlin forbid—enjoyed her company?

No, no, he reasoned, she was merely the lesser of two evils.

Not that he didn't love his mother.

He did, of course he did—she was all he had left.

But she'd been falling apart a little each day, now that father was in prison and the family she'd tried to hold together for so long had been separated forever, and it was hard to watch.

So he didn't watch when he could, because maybe—maybe—if he pretended as though she were still strong she would be.

He hadn't bothered to tell his mother he was going out, but she'd knocked on his door earlier right after he'd finished changing—he had decided on dressy casual, which to him meant black trousers and a dark green sweater. She eyed him curiously. "Going out, darling?"

Draco had nodded warily, uncertain of how much to tell her. "Er—yes. Is that going to be a problem?"

She'd looked like she wanted to say yes, but after a pause she had a ghost of a smile for him. "Of course not, dear. Just try to stay out of trouble."

He'd tried to smile too, but had the feeling he'd missed the mark by a bit. Or maybe a little more than that. "Wouldn't dream of it."

When his mother glided out of his room without even forcing a laugh at his attempt at humor, a small piece of his spirit broke, and even the prospect of escaping his mother's gloom didn't make him feel much better.

Since Weasley was babysitting Rose, they had decided to meet at the restaurant for an early dinner, which was a nice Italian place a few blocks away that Granger had picked out.

His bad mood hadn't quite lifted by the time he got there, and she noticed immediately.

"Are you all right, Malfoy?" she asked, a slight frown marring her features.

"Yeah, I'm…fine. Really." He wasn't quite ready to talk about his mother with her—or anyone for that matter—and pasted what he hoped was his trademark grin on his face, counting on her not to keep asking.

She didn't look convinced, but after giving him a searching look all she said was, "I've made reservations, just in case."

It wasn't until they were led to their table and Granger was taking off her coat that he really noticed what she was wearing.

She would never be stunningly beautiful, but she looked nice in her tight blue jeans and black sweater that clung to her body attractively. Even her hair was piled neatly on top of her head, relatively tame in comparison to the wild mass that usually framed her face.

He must've really been caught up in his bad mood to not have noticed right away, and then quickly gave himself a mental smack in the face.

This is Granger, Draco, Granger. You can't possibly be thinking she's even the slightest bit attractive.

As if your life weren't unbalanced enough as it is right now.

"What is it, Malfoy?" She was giving him a funny look.

He shook his head and gave himself a fierce order to snap out of it. He couldn't afford to get caught staring like that again. "Nothing," he said lamely as he took a seat and immediately began studying the menu.

She didn't say anything as she sat down, and he wondered if the rest of the meal would be spent like this, silence strained with awkward attempts at conversation.

As it turned out, he had nothing to worry about.

Granger was quite the speed-talker when she was nervous—she'd started telling him a story about Rose, which had led to another and another until he'd forgotten where she'd started altogether.

"Granger," he said, and she stopped with a jolt.

She gave him an apologetic smile. "Sorry. When I don't really want to sit in silence but don't know exactly what to say, I tend to do this. It would drive Ron crazy sometimes."

And she had just given him an unintentional segue.

He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. "So why did you divorce Weasel, Granger?"

She didn't reply right away, and he thought for a moment she'd refuse to answer.

"It was mutual," she finally said, although he thought he could glimpse a little sadness lurking in her eyes. "We just started bickering about everything, which was fine when we were strictly friends, but it started getting to the both of us. And our interests were so varied that we could hardly talk about them to the other, because he always wanted to discuss Quidditch when I wanted to talk about some new book I'd read.

"We tried harder to make it work after Rose was born, but it was wearing us both down, so we thought it would be better for her to divorce with her too young to really understand what was happening. Much hasn't even changed for her—aside from the fact we don't live together anymore, she still sees Ron very often, and things are much more relaxed between us now that we're back to being friends. Marrying Ron had seemed like the right thing to do at the time, but…it's kind of funny how the things you think will work end up falling apart."

Well, that was certainly true.

"What did you do after the trial, Malfoy?" she said suddenly, catching him off guard. "It's not like you've been in my thoughts often, you know, but I did wonder occasionally."

He sighed, not really wanting to tell her anything so personal.

But he supposed he could give her something for the unexpected answer she had given him. "Father's life sentence in Azkaban didn't really surprise me, but he'd always been able to get through things seemingly untouched. Suddenly not having him hit us both hard, especially my mother, and I just…stopped caring about, well, everything really. We moved around a lot in the beginning before settling in here, and it was difficult, but we're Malfoys. We always survive."

He finished with a grin, tired of being serious.

She shook her head in disbelief. "I just can't get over the idea of you living as a Muggle."

"And I can't get over the idea of you working part-time at a library—that's some job for supposedly the brightest witch in our year."

The comment took him by as much surprise as her, but he wasn't about to take it back. He knew he'd been a racist bastard in school, but he didn't need to have it constantly thrown in his face.

She smiled ruefully. "I swear that's all I was going to say, but still, I…guess I deserved that, even though I've told you I work there partly because of Rose—and I love books, but you already know that of course."

There was still a little bit of tension hanging in the air though, and he coughed awkwardly, hoping it would go away. But it didn't, and was still stubbornly suspended above them.

She leaned forward, folding her arms on the table. "But—you really use Muggle appliances and everything? I know you have a cell phone, but… everything else?"

He gave her a threatening look. "Granger."

"I'm sorry, Malfoy," she said, although he didn't think she looked very apologetic. "It's just a little…hard to wrap my mind around."

He crossed his arms over his chest. "Malfoys aren't generally exposed to much manual labor, but I know how to do everything now except—"

He hadn't meant to go that far.

Shit.

She grinned. "Except what, Malfoy?"

Shit, shit, shit.

"Except nothing, Granger."

"Well if it were nothing you wouldn't have been about to say something, right?"

She wasn't going to leave him alone unless he confessed. Damn Granger and her perseverance. "Don't you dare laugh."

"I can't make any promises, but I'll try," she said, smirking.

He growled. "Do you want to know or not?"

"All right, all right, I promise! Now tell me." Her grin had only broadened, though.

Bloody hell.

With a resigned sigh, he muttered, "I just…can't drive."

Her eyes sparkled, but to her credit she managed to contain the laughter he knew she was holding back. "You mean spent all these years in the Muggle world and you haven't learned to drive? You're not—afraid are you?"

He folded his arms across his chest and scowled at her. "Don't be absurd."

"So prove it. I can give you a lesson or two after this, since it's still light out." She waved her keys in front of his face. "Unless, of course…"

His scowl deepened.

She had left him with no choice.

Damn her.

He snatched the keys out of her hand with a low growl. "If one piece of me is out of place after this, I will hold you personally responsible."

She grinned broadly at him. "Don't get your knickers all in a twist, Malfoy. Not even a hair on your head will be astray when I'm through with you."

He wasn't entirely convinced, but there was no way he was going to let her win this.

The driving lesson had gone remarkably well, although he reasoned that part of that had been because they hadn't gone out to the road yet.

She had taken him to the library she worked at as soon as she'd paid for their dinner so they could practice in the parking lot, which was mercifully pretty empty. After showing him the controls, he'd gone in slow circles, cautiously experimenting with the gas, and had discovered the thrill of acceleration.

She'd promised to take him out on the road tomorrow, and he'd reluctantly admitted to her that it hadn't been as bad as he'd anticipated.

Now parked in her driveway—he had decided that a walk home would be nice—he got out of the car and walked around to her side, opening the door for her.

She stumbled a little as she stepped out, and he was standing close enough for her to fall into his chest. He steadied her instinctively. She laughed softly, but he thought it sounded nervous. "Well that was graceful of me."

Then she looked up at him, and their faces were so close and her lips were parted just a little, but enough to be inviting—

And all logical thought fled as he closed the distance and kissed her.

His mouth muffled her gasped of surprise, but it didn't take her long to recover, and then she was kissing him back, wrapping her arms around him.

It was a good handful of minutes before they pulled apart, breathing heavily, and it took a few seconds before either of them could speak.

Merlin—he had just kissed Granger.

And he had liked it.

He had his mouth open, ready to say something, but she started first. "Malfoy—"

"I know what you're going to say," he interrupted quickly, wanting to let her know his intentions before she started throwing accusations at him, "but I'm not using you to get back at Weasley, or Potter. Hell, I don't exactly know what I'm doing half the time—I'm not even really aware that I'm alive unless I'm with you, and I thought I liked the apathy, but you've made me remember what it's like to live, and I've decided that I like it. I'm just—not sure that I can, on my own. You know what's happened to my family, to my mother. I'm not getting all sappy on you or anything, trust me, but I just—wanted you to know that."

She blinked, and it took her a couple tries of opening her mouth before anything came out. "Malfoy—I—I'm pregnant."

He stared at her.

Perhaps he hadn't known what she'd been about to say then. "You're—what?"

She smiled weakly at him. "I just…wanted you to know, you know, in case that's going to, er, change anything. Nobody knows. Not even Ron. I simply—haven't known how to tell anyone. It's only been one month, so I've been able to get away with it so far. But soon I won't and then people will start talking, and Merlin knows we've both had to deal with our fair share of malicious rumors."

He certainly did know, and he knew he must've finally cracked for even considering this. He'd just been lucky he hadn't accidentally run into Harry Potter or the Weasley clan so far, and he had no idea what was going to happen when they found out, but he rebelliously decided that he didn't care.

There was just something he had to know first. "Why, Granger? Why would you want this, with me of all people?"

"In spite of my better judgment, I like you, Malfoy. You might've been a bigoted little racist in your youth, but you were forced into impossible situations like we all were, and in the end were fighting for your family just like the rest of us. You've changed, I've changed, and so has everyone else. You can't judge someone on their past alone, and I like who you've become. You're still an arrogant little bastard, but I'm sure I'm still an insufferable know-it-all." She smirked at him, reaching a hand up to brush a wayward strand of his hair out of his eyes. "And besides, Rose likes you, and my daughter has good instincts about people even though she's so young."

"Well then your daughter has good taste," he said with a grin. Sobering quickly, he continued, "You make me want to be a better person, Granger. And, if you want this to work—we can make it happen."

She gripped him tighter. "Yes, Malfoy. I do."

He realized with a start that he was happy. Genuinely happy. He hadn't felt like this in a long time, and it almost overwhelmed him. "Good."

They stayed enveloped in each other for a long time, and he pushed all thoughts of the future out of his head. He could deal with them tomorrow.

He had something to live for now, a reason to get out of bed every morning.

And he wasn't about to let that go.

FIN