I wanted to be good, and spread my updates out, but I'm uber impatient. And Courting Insanity told me to do it so… This is the part where I would tell you I have a strict update schedule, but that would be a terrible lie. It is my goal to update all my stories once a week, but if I don't I usually update within two. If I continue to make these so long, I'd wager it'd be two weeks.

I am so blown away by the amount of favorites, follows, and reviews! Thank you so much for giving me a chance to give you something to read! I thrive of self validation, and my birthday is on the twelfth if you want to give me reviews for my… blackmail probably isn't okay.

Please enjoy! I laughed quite a bit during this chapter and we can thank otterlyardent for the harbor line, because it is amazing.

Chapter Two: Traitorous Colonials and Harbor Threats

Sitting in the car with Draco alone set her on edge, and the silence threatened to swallow her up. Reaching for the display between them, she slowly twisted the knob to the right. "You like them too?" She asked hesitantly, and his only reply was to nod.

After leaving the Leaky Cauldron, and Theo she was sad to say, who acted as a buffer between her and the man driving, he'd taken her to St. Mungos. The hospital had been a tall building, one that made her heart drop just to look at, and she almost, almost, broke her silence to beg him not to make her step inside. Hermione told herself that she wasn't a child; she reminded herself that was twenty one years old, but when the stench of antiseptic made her wretch, he'd at least been polite enough not to say anything.

Her arm wasn't broken, but it felt like her elbow had cracked in multiple places. She laid her head against the seat belt, locking and unlocking her phone while she looked at the wallpaper of her mother.

"This is it," he told her, and she glanced up to see him slowing down, driving with one hand on the wheel.

The Malfoy home was the size of a hotel that had been near her house, and she unbuckled her seat to lean forward. He pumped the brakes, sending her forward, but he didn't say a word to her.

Several thousand miles away, her home was a simple brick house with crisp white shutters that she'd helped paint when she was twelve. There was a tiny corner she'd forgotten to paint that still annoyed the shit out of her to this day. She thought longingly of that place, of the bedroom she'd had for the entirety of her life, which still had a poster for a boy band that she hadn't loved in years.

This wasn't home - at least not yet. She couldn't call it a house; she might have called it a mansion had she been in the United States...in fact she had, only to be immediately corrected by Draco's rough voice. It was manor, if she wanted to be technical, but for all intents and purposes, this would be her home now too. For a year at least.

.

Folding her arms across her chest, taking the time to be extra careful with her elbow, she remained silent. Malfoy Manor was massive, and she somehow doubted she'd ever get used to coming home to it. She commented quietly that it was beautiful, and he told her not to mention it to his mum unless she wanted to hear about a century's worth of history.

He gave her a curious look when she said that sounded lovely if Narcissa would have the time. "I can carry it," she blurted, snatching her carry on from his hand. "I'm fairly certain you broke my laptop in the airport earlier, and I'd rather not chance you breaking it beyond repair."

There was a flash of guilt, flickering across his face. It was gone just as quickly as it had appeared. "Tell me if it's broken." He told her, shouldering her other duffle and wheeling her suitcase behind him. "And if you wouldn't tell Father, or Mother, that would be great."

Hermione blinked. "Okay." She nodded. "Even if it is broken, it's been close to giving out for nearly a year. I would have had to buy a new one here no matter what."

He shook his head, white blond hair falling into his eyes. He gripped her shoulder, yanking her to a full stop. "Granger, if I broke it, I'll be the one to replace it. Understand?" Not waiting for a response, he made his way past her and up the steps.

She stood in place, nevermind the pouring rain when it fell, the cool droplets feeling incredible against her skin. She took in the rising structure. If the weather were a bit darker, and the manor abandoned, it would have made the perfect setting for something right out of a horror movie. "Have you always lived here?" She called out, craning her neck to the side to peek down a cobblestone path.

"It's been in the Malfoy family for generations." He told her, making his way down the steps after leaving her luggage where it wouldn't get soaked. Shoving his large hands into his pockets, he stood beside her, pointing down the way she was staring. "Mum has a garden down that way. The hedges are trimmed regularly, but I'd hazard the guess you would like it. She's had a gazebo built. It's where she goes whenever my father makes her angry."

Hermione laughed, grinning as she looked up at him. Each time she did so, she had to quite literally look up because he was so fucking tall. If she were honest, which she admitted this begrudgingly since he was such as asshole. Everything about him was just large, for lack of better word. His hands, his stature, although he managed it without being too broad shouldered.

"Does that happen often?"

The scowl he'd been sporting damn near since she'd met him slipped for a moment, and her lips parted. To her surprise, he looked almost playful as the corners of his lips quirked up. It wasn't a smile, but a smirk, and she suddenly understood why girls could be weak in the knees. He shrugged, "They've been married twenty five years, so it's happened a few times. Though..they'll never fight around you."

"It's amazing for them to have been married for so long. Mom and Dad were married for ten." She kicked a rock absently, not bothering to look up. He stiffened beside her, no doubt thinking of when she'd burst into tears in his car. "I'm not going to cry." She said softly. "He's been gone for a long time, so..."

"I'm sorry." He told her. "I don't know if my parents knew, but I didn't have any idea. What happened?" It was a simple question, two words, but her heart thudded in her chest. "Not that you have to tell me a damn thing, but-"

"She had breast cancer, and it was terminal." Hermione spit the words out, but the familiar stinging behind her eyes didn't come, nor did the ache in her chest. She wasn't sure if it was better to feel as if she was suffocating, or to feel hollow. "I knew it was coming, and I wasn't even going to come here."

"You weren't? Mum said you were so excited..."

She sort of glared at him, as if she wanted to tell him to just shut up and let her talk. "I didn't want to leave her. My college had long since picked me to be the recipient to study abroad, and then Mom was released from the hospital, and I just..." her voice was thick, and clearing her throat didn't help at all.

"You didn't want to leave her." He finished, simply, and he was staring up at the sky, where the sun was hidden behind clouds. "That's fair."

She nodded. "I wouldn't tell you all of this normally. I'm probably still in shock and I…""

"Ramble a fuck ton." He chuckled, and it should have been illegal how delicious it sounded. "It's fine; I can't imagine losing my mum, as much as she irritates me."

Hermione smiled. "They're always like that, I think, no matter where you're from."

"What are you doing in the rain?" Hermione leaned forward to peek around him, and saw a small woman, probably her height, waving from the porch. "Draco, she's going to get a cold on her first day here! That's no way to welcome a guest." Narcissa shouted. "And take her bag, that's not how I raised you."

God help her, she snorted, and her hand flew to cover her face in embarrassment. "Do you see what I mean?" He asked her, giving her no choice as he grabbed the thick strap from her shoulder and slung over his head, the strap flattening against his chest. "Just watch, she'll ask why I'm wearing my coat instead of giving it to you."

"I'm not going to melt." She defended, hurrying towards the steps and the open door where warmth drifted out.

"Clearly," he scoffed. "You're not sweet at all."

It was not an accident when she stepped on his foot, hopping over the bottom two steps and standing in front of Missus Malfoy, who was unsurprisingly blonde as well, her lips painted a dark red. "Missus Malfoy, - "

She was cut off immediately with a squeal of delight and a fierce hug as Narcissa threw her arms around Hermione's neck. "Oh, dear, you're simply stunning. Your mum told me all about you, and shared so many photographs, but you're even more striking in person." Hermione's cheeks grew hot. "Come inside, of course, you need to warm up." Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, and by extension her emerald green shawl as well, Narcissa led her inside, sweeping right past two winding staircases that Hermione wanted nothing more than to stare at four hours, taking in every detail.

"Oh, and call me Narcissa. Lucius will feel the same way, and he's delighted to finally meet you." She peeked over her shoulder. "Draco Lucius Malfoy, where do you think you're going?"

A grumbled reply came from behind them; "I'm going to toss this in her room and return to mine?"

Judging from her groan, it was the wrong reply. "Absolutely not, leave it at the bottom of the staircase and come with us. We're having lunch together. You must be starving." She turned back to Hermione. It was as they stepped into the kitchen, another room she would need hours to take in properly, that she finally noticed her tattered sleeve and the bandage peeking out from underneath. "Good God, what happened to you?" Narcissa asked, circling her and lifting her elbow.

Hermione hissed through her teeth. "There was an incident at the Leaky Cauldron." She muttered. "It was my fault."

"You're fucking right it was your fault. If you weren't so busy trying to play the hero," Draco laid into her.

"Would you shut up?" Hermione snapped. "That old woman had pictures of her newborn grandchild, and she was devastated for them to be lost."

"So, the two of you have met, and he's been a terror. Why am I not surprised?" It could have been Draco talking, with how similar their voices sounded. The same low, raspy drawl in an accent that made her want to melt. Lucius Malfoy was, well, suffice it was safe to say where Draco had gotten his looks from. And it wasn't fair for such good genes to be wasted on him.

"Explain," Narcissa said, her voice polite, but there was no mistaking the warning laced through it. "You've barely been here a few hours, how on earth did you injure yourself?"

"It's just sore," Draco commented. "She already had it checked out, and - "

Narcissa cut him off, and Hermione felt like she needed to leave the room, no matter how badly she wanted to see this grown man earn a scolding from his mother. "I sincerely hope you're not to tell me you took her to a hospital, and didn't bother to call me."

"It was a small injury," Hermione interrupted. "I didn't want to worry you over nothing. There was a mugging outside of the Leaky Cauldron. No one was helping this old woman, and I chased after him."

"You what?" Narcissa gasped. "That's incredibly dangerous."

"She almost got hit by a vehicle, and slid over the hood of another." Draco chimed in, that same smirk twisting his lips as he threw her under the metaphorical bus.

"And where were you?" Lucius asked him, leaning against the dining room table. "Surely you were with her?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "It's not as if I had much of a choice. She had a head start, but I got the kid off of her after she tackled him. She's lucky he didn't break her nose."

Narcissa gripped Hermione's chin in her hand, and tilted her face towards the light. Fretting over her, and asking questions, like do you have any idea how dangerous that was? Hermione looked to either of the men in the room to make it stop.

"It was nothing." Hermione muttered when she was finally able to step away. At the three skeptical faces staring back at her, she continued. "Okay, so it was something, and in hindsight, it might have been a horrible idea. Even then, it was worth it when she got her purse back."

Lucius' lips quirked into a smirk before melting into a lopsided grin before he pushed himself away from the table. He stepped towards her, nearly a foot taller than her. "Jean didn't mention that you had a reckless streak." He ruffled her hair, the gold of his watch flickering beneath the warm lights of the chandelier that hung over the table.

"Oh, she told me." Narcissa told her husband. "Not in so many words. More that Hermione here has always tried to do the right thing, even if it were dangerous."

As flattering as it was to hear compliments, knowing they stemmed from her mother made her stomach twist. "I find it hard to believe that someone who looks like the definition of a good girl could do anything reckless." Draco drawled, shrugging out of his coat, and laying it over the counter before he lifted himself onto it. "Have you seen yourself?"

"It's funny how first impressions can be wrong, isn't it?" Hermione replied, trying not to let a smile ruin the not so subtle jab she was about to say. "For instance, I suppose I look like a girl who would be mugged, not the one who'd chase you down."

"Is there a point to this, or are you just reiterating what has already been said? I wouldn't have pegged you as someone who fishes for compliments."

Hermione rolled her eyes, her hands coming to sit at her hips, cocking her head to the side. "And then we have you, covered in tattoos, wearing combat boots, and looking every part of a stereotypical jerk who would burn your house down for kicks." Draco raised an eyebrow, his eyes sparkling in amusement. "It's nice to know that some first impressions are correct no matter what country you're in."

His eyes narrowed on her. "Your mouth is going to get you into trouble." He told her, the backs of his boots hitting the cupboards.

Lucius laughed, clapping her lightly on the back. "You're just what this family needs." He told her, ruffling her hair once more, and it reminded her of the times her father had done it before he'd been killed. "I haven't met anyone who can put up with him for so long."

Hermione's shoulders slumped. "He has plenty of friends, so that's not true. Do you have anything for a headache, actually? I hit it rather hard."

"Draco, would you grab something from the medicine cabinet in the loo?" Narcissa asked, but it was clear it wasn't a request. Just like it was clear that this was nothing new. "Have a seat, we'd like to have lunch with you if you're not exhausted yet."

Hermione nodded, running her fingers along the glass table, regretting it when she left streaks. The dining room felt so open, with it's white walls, the glass table that was held up by black metal. The legs curved in the corners to make it stand out. "No, I'm wide awake." Hermione said. "I drank an energy drink when I landed, and I haven't passed out yet."

Narcissa ducked into the kitchen, leaving Hermione in silence as Lucius took the seat across from her. "Has he been positively dreadful?" He asked her, lacing his fingers in front of him as his elbows rested against the table. The sleeves of his white shirt were rolled up, and she took note of the gold band on his ring finger, and the watch wrapped around his wrist. It looked like Fossil.

She shook her head, setting her hands in her lap. Everything was just so pristine, she didn't want to touch a thing. "He was already upset when I met him in the airport. I ran straight into him. He was apparently an hour early, so..."

"I apologize. It was my plan to pick you up myself, but Narcissa had a dizzy spell this morning. I took her to the hospital an hour before you landed. She'd called him and told him to go there right away."

"Ah," her features relaxed. "Is she okay?" Hermione asked. If his foul mood was the result of his mother going to the hospital, well, that was an excuse she could understand.

Lucius waved her off. "Completely fine. She's never had perfect health. She suffers from a weak immune system, so a standard cold will do her in for a week."

Draco stormed back into the room, the door flying open from under his hand. She nearly jumped out of her skin, a squeak coming from her, when he slammed a bottle down in front of her. He wrenched the seat beside her out and flung himself into it, his arm hanging over the back of it. "What were you saying about me?"

She blinked. "I told him how I ran into you at the airport, but to be fair I was talking about you, not to you." Hermione grinned at his groan. "We were talking about Narcissa, and why you had to pick me up instead of your parents."

He scowled. "Yeah, I'm aware of how you didn't want to meet me."

She'd never wanted to throttle someone so badly in her life. "No," she dragged the word out, looking to Lucius for help, but he shook his head. "I was happy to meet you until you insulted me multiple times, and made me feel unwelcome. I had enough of that at home, and I'm not going to let you walk over me."

Whatever he might have replied with was cut off by the door swinging open, she'd knocked it open with her hip, as Narcissa carried out two trays. "Your mum told me your favorites, I hope that's okay."

Her bright smile made Hermione dizzy, and she let her hair down from its ponytail so the man beside her wouldn't see her eyes water.

Draco was left to show her where her bedroom would be, and he didn't say a word as he walked her there. He refused to let her carry anything, claiming she'd just slow them down. Narcissa had been weary by the end of their meal, and had tried to gather the dishes, but Lucius grasped her by the hips and carried her up the stairs.

Hermione had taken the dishes into the kitchen, loading the dishwasher while Draco stood alongside her. She'd told him she would come back down later and put the glassware away, something he'd only nodded to.

He stepped around her, fingers grasping the faceted door knob, and stepping inside. Setting her bags on the four poster bed, he turned to face her. "If you hate the color of the sheets, Mum has more in the closer in the corridor."

"The color doesn't matter to me."

"She wants it to feel like home for you." He shrugged.

Hermione stepped around him, unzipping her bag and pulling her laptop from it. "Funny, I want it to feel different from home. I'd rather not remember anything about that place right now."

Draco cleared his throat, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Is it broken?" He asked her, taking a step forward and looking over her shoulder. She froze, his hot breath below the shell of her ear. "Well?" He rumbled.

Flipping the lid open, Hermione attempted to turn it on, but the screen flashed white. "Shit." She muttered. "I haven't even had my money converted yet, and I was going to work on something tonight."

He nodded. "Is there a brand you prefer?" Draco asked her, shaking his head at her awestruck expression. "I broke your laptop, Granger. You can't attend university without it unless you want to live in the library." She didn't point out that she probably would regardless. "Preference?" He repeated, tapping his foot against the dark carpet impatiently.

She shook her head. "No, a basic one will do. Just something cheap if you really won't let me pay for it."

He scoffed. "Not a bloody chance, just keep your word to keep in between us." Hermione nodded, falling to sit on the bed, her bed she corrected.

"I'll probably be asleep whenever you get back." She told him, cracking one eye open. Draco turned to look back at her, his eyes raking up and down her body, as if he were committing her to memory. "Don't wake me up."

He rolled his eyes, and the door shut behind him.

She wasn't like Pansy, who he could insult and not receive any flack for it. Just an eye roll before she moved on, and shot him some obscene gesture. Not like Ginny, who was a spitfire, and just as likely to kick his arse as she was to snog him. Not quite as strange as Lovegood, who he could only tolerate on his best days. Not that it mattered since his jabs were completely ignored by her.

Hermione Granger was a type of girl that he'd never come across. He'd like to say that he liked her enough. She was intelligent, judging from the way she spoke of her terms in university in America. She was headstrong, a clear fact since he'd watched her hit the ground running out the Leaky.

That was it, the moment that she'd caught him off guard, and she hadn't stopped since. What other option did he have other than sprinting after her? Granger looked like a good girl, with her converse - a name he'd learned over lunch - and the way she was bound and determined to do the right thing, down to the way she fought with him.

Fucking Christ, the way she argued with him riled him up, and it shouldn't have made his cock twitch in his pants. She was irritating, with her curly hair that he wanted to drag her around by when she got in his face, and the pretty bow of her lips. Pale pink, and no-

She wasn't that attractive.

It was a lie.

She laughed easily, tucking her hair behind her right ear as she told a story of the first time she learned to drive. Of how it had given her such anxiety, and she'd failed the test on the first try. He wasn't sure how it worked in the United States; he didn't show that he was interested as he stabbed at his pasta with a fork.

And then his mother has asked her what her favorite book was. "Oh," she said quietly. "Jane Eyre." He wasn't too surprised by the information of her favorite book being a classic. "My dad bought it for me before he deployed to Iraq."

If that wasn't a punch in the gut, he didn't know what was. Outside with her, watching her when she wasn't looking, he hated hearing how she'd lost both parents. Still, he listened to her stories without lifting his head, and without commenting. As far as he was concerned, he'd rather her think he hated her. Even though what he wanted was to find out if she would still be so bossy if she were under him.

As he left her, knowing she was probably asleep within moments of him leaving, he grabbed his coat from the dining room, and stormed to his bike. His mother would have told him it was too slick to ride, and he couldn't give less of a fuck.

He needed to get this out of his system.

She woke up when thunder cracked throughout the night. She groaned, rising up and rubbing her eyes. Looking around the room, she felt physically sick. Yesterday morning she had woken on the couch in her living room, with tear stains dried on her cheeks. She had gotten dressed, and then attended the funeral for the most brilliant woman she'd ever met.

And today, Hermione woke up in Malfoy Manor, in Oxford, England. Outside her window, heavy rain poured down. Droplets slid down her window, and she crossed her legs while she slouched over. It was strange to lose a routine.

Wake up, take care of Mom, sleep. She'd been doing that for six weeks, and now she didn't know what she would do for the day. Looking at her phone, and the time, she saw that it was barely past four o'clock in the morning. Hermione crawled to the side of the bed, padding across the carpeted floor as quietly as she could, while she wrapped a blanket around her shoulders.

Using the flashlight on her cell phone, she carefully made her way down the corridor and past Draco's room. She didn't know where Narcissa and Lucius slept beyond the fact that it was on the other side of the manor. Taking slow steps so she wouldn't slip down the white stairs from her socks, she gripped the railing tightly.

Surrounded by darkness except for where her flashlight could reach, the manor was eerily quiet, and if she didn't know there were others at home, she would have been terrified. She told herself that this was ridiculous, and the last thing she really needed was an irrational fear of a haunted manor.

The edge of her blanket dragged against the tile while she shuffled into the kitchen. Opening the cabinets quietly, she searched, and searched, but to no avail. There wasn't a coffee machine anyway, and she shouldn't have been surprised.

"What are you doing?" Draco yawned from behind her.

She whirled around, nearly slipping on the corner of the black comforter she'd wrapped around herself. "I was looking for a coffee machine," she bit out, averting her eyes because it was impossible not to stare. His pajamas hung low on his hips, and he wore a fitted gray shirt. "I didn't think there would be one, but I had hoped."

"We're British, we drink tea." He deadpanned, and then laughed under his breath.

"You hang out in a coffee shop," Hermione argued.

"Yes, but I drink tea." He harped, and while his expression was blank, she could hear the laughter in his voice. "What kind of tea do you like?" He asked, moving to her side and opening the one cabinet she hadn't opened yet.

"I don't know?' Hermione replied, but it ended as a question, and he just arched an eyebrow. "What's that look for?"

"So, you're to tell me you chose to live in England for a year, and you've never had tea?" He was laughing at her, plucking a box from the top shelf. As he reached up, his shirt rode up, exposing the bottom of his torso.

She lingered on the hard lines of his stomach for longer than she would later admit to herself. "I've had sweet tea." Hermione offered with a grin, laughing when he appeared as if she'd murdered his family.

"That's," he sighed. "That's pitiful, you traitorous colonial."

Hermione snorted, watching him pull a kettle from the bottom cupboards. "Keep talking to me like that and I'll throw all of your tea into the nearest harbor." She fell into a fit of giggles, while he just glared at her. "What kind of tea is that?" She poked his armas he studiously ignored her.

"Earl Grey. Why are you wearing your blanket?" He asked her, filling the kettle with water and setting it on the stovetop.

"I was planning to sit outside if I found coffee, which I didn't."

"You found something better." He ignored her scoff. "Why would you sit outside anyway? It's pouring."

She hopped onto the counter, wrapping the blanket right around her. "It's how I like to wake up, and I love the rain." Another clap of thunder rang out.

"Did you just flinch at the thunder?" Silence, but heat rose in her cheeks. "How does one adore rain, but fear a key part of it?"

This time, the thunder was louder, and the tumbling shook the windows. Hermione squeaked, scrambling backwards on the kitchen counter and she knocked her head against the metal handle. "Like that," She grimaced, rubbing the tender spot at the base of her skull.

He laughed, his chest shaking as he look at her. "Your hair is caught in the handle,"

"Of course it is," she muttered angrily, reaching back to try and untangle the knot.

"Quit it, you're making it worse." Draco sidestepped in front of her, and reached behind her head. She caught the sight of a heavy ring on his right hand, with an engraved M in the middle of it. He untangled her hair easily, unaware of the way her heart thudded in her chest.

The tea kettle began to whistle, and he stepped away from her. "I would sit on the porch in the mornings while I drank my coffee." She explained to him, watching him pivot to throw something in the trash. "Mom would still be asleep, and it was the time I took to myself."

"Does it rain often there?"

"In Oklahoma?" Hermione laughed, kicking her legs out. "No, it doesn't. In fact, the summers are fucking stifling, and I could not be happier to be in a country where the heat doesn't make me want to rip my skin off."

He stared at her. "That's an extremely violent opinion on something as simple as the weather."

She shrugged. "You've never been to Oklahoma. You'd hate it too. Drinking coffee outside in the summer isn't all that enjoyable with the mosquitos and the humidity. Winter is my favorite season."

He made a noise of acknowledgment, moving to lean against the sink. "It sounds like you loathe home."

"I always wanted to leave," Hermione rubbed her arms beneath her blanket. "I've always wanted to travel. A career in Foreign Relations would be a wonderful way to work towards that."

"Have you ever left the United States before now?"

She shook her head. "I've never had the opportunity. We went to New York City last year for my birthday, and I've been to California, but that's it."

He nodded. "Did you choose England?"

She hesitated before nodding. "There were a few trips I could have applied for, but I've always wanted to visit Europe. There was one in Scotland, and another in Washington D.C."

"You could have applied for Scotland though, so why didn't you?" Malfoy folded his arms over his chest. "It's just as beautiful there, more so if you ask me."

She tilted her head to the side, tucking her hair back. "You've been there?"

He nodded. "Father used to travel regularly, but since Mum's health has gotten worse bit by bit, he's sent me to a few meetings. Scotland, Ireland, most recently I was in Paris."

She was wide eyed. "That's amazing." Hermione breathed. "Would you tell me what Paris is like?"

He arched an eyebrow at her. "Rather dreary from the inside of a conference room. Is that another place you'd like to visit?"

Hermione nodded, a smile curling across her face. "You have no idea how badly I want to see the Eiffel Tower before I die."

"You're probably in luck then. Pansy has decided that she likes you for whatever reason, and she has family there. She'd take you." He said nothing as the tea brewed and Hermione was content to sit in the share silence until.

"Did I wake you?"

He groaned at the sound of her voice. "I was awake."

"Why?"

"Is it any of your business?" He muttered, as he grabbed two cups from the cupboard beside her head. He poured two cups.

"I'm just trying to make conversation with you. We do have to live together, so we might as well not be enemies the entire time." She defended, wrapping her fingers around the steaming cup of tea.

His nose wrinkled, an adorable trait really until he opened his mouth. "Well, don't. I don't like you that way."

"Which way?"

"Pick one," he growled, taking a drink. It had to be scalding, so being the smarter of the two of them, Hermione blew on hers. Draco looked as if all had been set right in his world, something that would probably involve her being far away from him.

Hopeful, Hermione sipped her tea, and then immediately gagged. "Malfoy?"

"What now?" He muttered.

"This tea is shit."

Draco dumped the kettle in the sink and stormed out of the room while holding his tea and muttering under his breath about fucking colonials.