Much to Hermione's dismay, Draco had been waiting in her office every morning for the past week. He even went as far as to open her window for owls, sort her mail, and have a cup of coffee waiting for her. So when she flooed in she was not the least bit surprised to see him sitting in a chair – an over the top gold chair that he had brought in by the way – reading the Daily Prophet. She took her jacket off and sent it to the coat rack and went to her desk.
"Honestly Malfoy, aren't you tired of coming here every morning?" She asked and took a drink of her coffee and hummed her satisfaction.
"Not at all," he replied. "Good, is it? One spoon of hazelnut cream and three sugars? I think I got it just right this time."
"You did. Quite perfect actually," she started to look through her correspondences. "How'd you know how I liked my coffee?"
Draco shrugged. "I hate to say it Granger, but you're very predictable. It wasn't hard to find out how you took your coffee."
"Well what can I say, I'm a right bore. Ask anyone."
"I'd hardly say that," Draco smirked. "My mother would like to know if you plan on attending the dinner she's hosting next week. You haven't responded yet."
She put down the letter she was reading and looked up at Draco. "What answer do I have to give to get you to leave me alone? And honestly, do you even enjoy going to those things?"
"I do," he answered, a matter of factly. "They're not so bad. If given a chance I'm sure you'd enjoy them as well. Along with my parents."
"Yeah, I'm sure I'd love your deatheater parents," she muttered, going back to her letters.
"Careful Granger," there was a hint of warning in his tone. "Those are my parents you're talking about."
She glanced at him and saw that he wasn't too happy with her comment. Not that she cared. At least, she told herself she shouldn't care. "I have nothing to wear to that sort of thing."
"I'll have something sent to you."
She gave him an incredulous look. "Something embarrassing and incredibly revealing, I'm sure. You honestly expect me to wear something you picked out?"
He laughed. "Granger, some faith, eh? I'll pick something flattering. And if I don't my mother will personally berate me."
She let out a long sigh. "Fine," she conceded. "If I deem the dress decent enough, I will attend. But only for an hour at most," she quickly added.
"Excellent," he said, clasping his hands together. "Now while you're being quite agreeable, let's discuss wedding plans."
Hermione let out a long exaggerated groan. "Malfoy, just let your mum plan it. Honestly, I have no qualms about it."
"She has you riding in on a unicorn while 12 dozen doves fly all around you," he says, deadpan. "That's not even the ostentatious part." He noticed her horrified expression and continued. "Now you see why you should involve yourself in the wedding plans? My mother is notoriously over the top and dramatic. Though," he thought back to her ridiculous groans. "I suppose you two will have that in common."
"Fine, we can go over the wedding then," she grumbled. "I have to finish this proposal first. It keeps getting rejected."
"The Wolfsbane one? I can help, if you'd like."
"Malfoy, what is it you want? You can't tell me you have a sudden interest in helping werewolves. Or that you enjoy sitting here every day. Or that you are honestly okay with being married to a bucktooth, frizzy haired, book worm, mudblood like me. So what in Merlin's name are you trying to accomplish?"
Draco winced. He didn't know how to tell her not to call herself those things when he knew she did so because he called her those things first. He didn't know how to tell her that by the time he realized his entire mindset was wrong, he was already too deep in the other side. He didn't know how to tell her he wished he could take it back.
"Granger, I'm sorry."
Hermione had to do a double-take. She wasn't sure she heard him correctly because never in a million years could she have guessed that he would say those words to her.
"I was a prat. There was never anything you did that made me want to hate you. I just did. I wish I had some great excuse. Like my mother didn't love me or that my father forced me to become a deatheater. But I don't have one. I was just a spoiled prat."
Hermione watched him shift from a cocky git to a vulnerable man. She wondered if she would ever forgive him. Or maybe she already did. She realized long ago that he was just a kid like the rest of them. And she thought that maybe when he realized he was on the wrong side, it was already too late. Not everyone could double like Snape. And she couldn't blame him for not being able to do so.
"At least you are aware of your utter pratness," she told him. "Perhaps living with you won't be completely unbearable."
Draco smirked. He was sure he wasn't magically forgiven for their entire school career but he felt they made a step in a generally positive direction. "Granger, you're going to find that living with me means living in complete luxury. I'll even give you an owl like Patroclus instead of that dowdy ministry owl you've been using."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Utter prat," she mumbled. "Speaking of utter prats, Ginny and Blaise has invited everyone over for dinner tonight over at her flat."
"Ah yes, attractive little red," he rubbed his chin while Hermione gave him a flat look. "I believe I sent an owl accepting the invitation. Was it safe to assume that you would be attending as well."
She nodded, signing a few papers. "She and Blaise seem to be getting on alright. So why not support them. Bit fast if you asked me though."
Draco chuckled. "Oh lighten up Granger. Knowing the two of them I think it's safe to say that they're just having fun." Although she was still looking at her myriad of papers, he could still see her sour look. "Don't approve? Blaise was never technically a death eater. He's not a bad bloke," he told her, thinking he was easing her worries.
She took a breath and looked up to Draco. "Of course he isn't. People typically aren't. Even you," she said it dismissively. "Ginny's just like that. Always jumping into things."
"Didn't you ride a dragon out of Gringotts?"
Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, to which he smirked. Prat.
Blaise watched as Ginny and Ron argued in the kitchen over how to properly spell an apple pie. He was sipping on a glass of his own firewhiskey that he brought over. Merlin knew that she did not appreciate high quality firewhiskey.
Meanwhile, Pansy was sitting with him at the kitchen table. Pansy for all her superfluous and superficial talk, was the most observant of them all. She had the ability to pick up on things that no one else did and then she watched them and analyzed them. So it was no wonder that she noticed the moment that Blaise became seriously enamored with 'Ginevra'. Inwardly, she wanted to roll her eyes. Blaise and Draco were both pathetic.
"Blaise," Pansy's voice was low but haughty. "If you stare any harder at that red bint, I am going to gag. It's embarrassing enough to have even come here without the disgusting love sick looks."
Blaise shifted his glance to Pansy. "I was not staring," his voice was even and smooth.
Pansy scoffed. "I know you wouldn't think to lie to me so obviously, you're lying to yourself. Really, my reputation dwindles due to you and Draco."
"What are you two goin' on about?" Ron turned and asked as Ginny charmed the ingredients to mix themselves.
Pansy rolled her eyes. "Why does he insist on speaking to me?" She asked at her normal volume and turned to Blaise. "Really, why did I let you convince me to come to this hovel."
"Don't be such a bitch, Pansy," Ginny turned pointing her wand at her. "That's my brother and my house you're talking about."
She looked incredibly bored. Slowly she clapped her hands. "Oh congratulations," she drawled. "Sticking up for your commoner brother and this dump. So proud. So little reason to be."
"Pansy," Blaise said as Ron had just grabbed Ginny's arm to stop her from confronting Pansy. "Perhaps you are correct," he stood and turned to Ginny. "I believe this would be better done at another time," he held a hand out to Pansy. "Let's go Pans."
She slapped his hand away. "Honestly, always thinking to command us little women about. Sit down. You look foolish. I came here to see how peasants live and I am not leaving until I am good and ready."
"Don't make a scene," he said in a lowered voice, still looking down on her."
Pansy stood and Blaise expectantly offered his arm. Instead of taking it, she walked past him and purposely shoved him. "Okay, Ginevra," she sneered. "I'll be nice. Show me how to make this peasant dish."
Ron and Ginny exchanged looks. They were having a private conversation on whether or not they would allow her to help. Currently, she was poking at the ingredients with her wand. Eventually, Ron shrugged and Ginny's facial expression clearly said 'why the fuck not'.
And then Pansy announced, "I'll summon my house elves. Even your ingredients are substandard. Honestly, how do poor people live?"
Ron and Ginny both let out an exasperated sigh and Blaise had sat back down to enjoy the show.
Oh, this will be entertaining, indeed, Blaise thought, smirking.