Chapter Nine

Better Than A Malfoy

The tapping was what woke Hermione up the next morning. Hedwig sat outside of Ginny's window with an envelope clamped in her beak. She looked over at Ginny's bed seeing a lump beneath the covers. She slept heavily.

Hermione slid out of bed, and sleepily opened unlatched the window letting Hedwig fly over to the desk. She took the letter, and ripped it open, Hedwig hooting proudly.

Hermione,

We miss you. Please don't let what your father say to you influence your decision to leave. You'll be back for your final year at Hogwarts, and we'd like to have more than a couple of days with you. It's lonely around the house when you're gone.

Draco is more than welcome to come back. I promise your father will behave this time. Please come home.

Love, Your Mom

P.S. The owl is beautiful, and so friendly.

Hermione felt the tears sting in her eyes. She clutched the letter tightly, considering it. She did miss her parents, and a part of her wanted to go home. She could visit, and see if her father really would behave himself. She had to at least retrieve some of her belongings if she was going to stay at the Weasley's further. She had to borrow Ginny's clothing, and was thankful that they were near the same height, and built.

She left the letter on the desk, and walked to the boys room. Softly she knocked, and poked her head in. Each on their own beds, they slept. While Harry still had all of his covers on, Ron had knocked his off into a pile by his feet, and Draco's were wrapped in coils around his legs.

She bent next to him. For a few moments she watched him. His fit chest rising, and falling rhythmically, his face innocent, and restful, a strand of fair hair falling to his eye. With a single finger she swept it away, moving down to his lips, running it along its softness. She leaned close, kissing him, and then he was kissing her back, his fingers holding her head not letting her pull away. It slid to her neck, to her jaw line. She jerked back.

"Harry - Ron."

He groaned. "You know it's a turn-off when you say your friend's names."

She giggled quietly. "I need to talk with you. Sitting room? I think everyone's still asleep."

He nodded. Despite their carefulness the boards in the hallway, and staircase creaked, but didn't wake anyone. When they came into the sitting room they sat on the couch facing each other.

Hermione took a breath. "My mum wrote."

He waited for more.

"She wants me to come home, and to bring you too."

"What're they going to do next? Hang me?"

Neither of them found this funny. "She says that my father will behave."

He snorted.

"I take that as a no?"

Draco took her hands in his. "If you want to go, go, but I won't."

"Then I won't either."

"Don't do this for me..."

She shook her head signaling for him to stop. "I'm not cutting my parents out. I love them, and I'll forgive them, but right now it's not going to work being in their house. If you don't come, where will you go?"

"I'll find someplace -"

"I'm staying with you. But first I have to go there, and get some of my belongings. I can't keep wearing Ginny's clothes."

He tugged at the white camisole top. "I think they're... Sexy."

"Then date her," she joked.

"Yes, and then you can watch Harry, and all of the Weasley's tear me into pieces."

She kissed his cheek, and stood. "I'll go get dressed, then leave."

"How're you going to get there?"

"George will take me."

Hermione changed into another set of Ginny's clothes, jeans, and a black tank top. She walked past the bathrooms to a burnt door loose on its hinges, the result of too many explosions. She wondered how it was there at all. She knocked a bit louder than she did on the boys room, and the door swayed threateningly.

George answered, his hair on end. Behind him she could see a bigger mess than Ron, and Harry's. She couldn't tell if there was a floor underneath the mountains of clothes, and other assorted items she couldn't make out.

"Whatisit," George grumbled.

"I was hoping you could apparate me to my parents. Straight to my bedroom."

His eyes opened wider. "You know, Hermione, you're a sweet girl, and all, pretty in fact, but I think you, and I wouldn't work. All those house points you took from me left us beyond repair."

Hermione smirked. "Yes, it's tragic, but that's not what I had in mind. I wanted to get some of my things."

"Now?"

"Why not?"

He held her hand firmly, and in a pop they appeared in Hermione's room. He took one look around, and mumbled "cute." She looked him over. He wore Quidditch boxers, and the crumpled gray shirt.

"You could've changed," Hermione said.

"You said 'now'," he pointed out.

She wanted to make a remark, but didn't. He was her only way back. She opened her closet, and began pulling articles of clothing from their racks. "Have to hurry, don't want my parents catching me here."

"Too late," he said.

Hermione glanced to the doorway, and her heart sunk to its depths. Her father stood there in his white dentistry uniform, his hair sticking up in all directions, his eyes dull, he looked like he hadn't slept in days. "Who's he," he demanded.

George held out a hand politely, not put off by the look of hatred that was being given to him. "George Weasley, sir."

Mr. Granger thought this over. "A Weasley... Better than a Malfoy." He shook his hand, taking in his pajamas with interest.

Hermione threw the shirt in her hand down earning a glower from her father. "Mum said that you were okay if we came back." She should have known better. She mentally kicked herself. "You know, I'm glad we decided to stay with the Weasley's."

Her father's face fell from anger. "You mean, you're not coming home?"

"No! I'm only here to get my things, then I'll leave."

"I was hoping you'd come to your senses, but in this case you're not leaving here. I'm still your father, and I still have some say so over you. So mind your mouth, young lady, and put your clothes back."

Hermione sighed hopelessly thinking of his disappointed face, and the nightmare she had. Who was she to argue with her father? When had she lost the respect they deserved? "Yes, sir."

George looked from daughter to father, and said, "sir, she'll be of age in September."

"Yes, September, it's June. Thank you for bringing it to my attention, and bringing my daughter back, but you can leave now."

"No, sir, I don't think I can."

"Excuse me?"

"She lives with us now."

"She lives here."

"Not anymore. Are you almost done, Hermione?"

Before she could answer her father grabbed George by the front of his shirt. "You're not taking her anywhere!"

Hermione had never seen her father act that way. He was normally a kind, and gentle man. Though she supposed that if her daughter had run off with a boy she disapproved of she would be hysterical too.

"You love your daughter," George stated. "I love her too. She's been my sister since she was eleven. She's spent holidays, and summers with us. She attended my brother's funeral. I refuse to let her be unhappy, and if being with Malfoy makes her happy then damnit I'll make sure she's with him. Believe me, sir, I don't like him anymore than you do. Now, unhand me."

When Mr. Granger didn't let go, Hermione held his arm, and said, "there's nothing you can do to stop me."

Then he released George, and said the words she most feared. "You disappoint me, Hermione."

She kept her head down, her mane falling to the sides of her face like a curtain hiding the tears that made her surroundings blur. She threw her clothes in her school trunk, slamming, and latching it. She fell on her knees, and reached blindly for George's hand, and when he took it she felt the horrible feeling that they were being sucked through a tube, and knew that they had apparated back into the house.

Hermione felt George's hands on her shoulders pulling her to his chest. She collapsed against him, and cried. Soon she sat back, and croaked, "this is stupid, isn't it?"

George shrugged, "if my parents acted that way towards Angelina, then I wouldn't be too happy either."

She paused. "Angelina? Johnson?"

He grinned. "Supreme Gryffindor chaser? The one, and only."

A voice from downstairs interrupted yelling, "you liar!"

George helped Hermione to her feet, and grabbed his wand from his bedside. Ginny rushed in wheezing. "Ron - Draco - Fight - Can't - Stop - Them."

They ran to the sitting room where they saw Ron tackling Draco to the floor, Harry trying desperately to separate them. The three were shouting, and not a word could be understood.

George lowered his mouth to Hermione's ear. "Five sickles on my brother."

She gave him a dirty look. "We can't let this go on." She went to stop it, but George grabbed her arm.

"Spoil sport," he said raising his wand in the air. A loud boom echoed, dust falling from the ceiling speckling them, but even that didn't stop the fight.

Hermione sprinted to them, grabbing Ron's arms prying him off, almost losing her grip on him once. She held one arm, while Harry held the other. Draco got steadily to his feet, blood trickling from his lip, his right eye, and jaw bruising.

"What's this about," Hermione panted.

Harry breathed just as heavily. "Ginny saw that you were missing - Looked everywhere for you - Guess she found you."

"Where were you," Ron fussed at her.

"George took me to my parents!"

"Yeah, I'd like to thank everyone who noticed I was missing," George announced from the stairs. "Don't mind me, I'll get your trunk to Ginny's room."

"Thanks," she called back not taking her eyes off of Ron. There was a small discoloration under his eye, but otherwise looked unharmed. "Where're your parents," she asked knowing that if Mr., and Mrs. Weasley heard the scuffle they would have broken up the fight long before George, and Hermione got back.

"Diagon Alley."

She noticed that she remained holding Ron's arm, and hastily dropped it. She roughly took Draco's, and led him into the kitchen. Silently she sat him in the same chair where his finger was seen to. She reached up into the cabinet Mrs. Weasley kept the aid, and opened it on the table.

"I didn't start it," he assured.

"I know." She picked up a cloth dampening it under the tap, and pressed it to his lip soaking up the blood. He didn't grimace, but simply stared at her as if worrying it could turn into a fight.

"They thought I did something..."

Hermione snorted, "right... Those boys don't use their heads. If you did something to me, I'd think you'd have enough sense not to stick around. I thought they were okay with this..."

He yanked back from her. "I can't stay here, Hermione. If I wanted the shit beat out of me I would live with my parents." He did wince at that.

Hermione didn't know what they would do. They had nowhere to go; no money. Every morning Draco would check the paper, but no jobs had opened, and he remained adamant not to receive any help, particularly from Harry.

She laid down the cloth, and took a slab of steak from the freezer. "Hold that over your bruises. I have to talk with Ron."

In the sitting room Hermione saw Ron on the couch, elbows on his knees. Harry stood beside him, and she mouthed for him to stay. He nodded, complying.

Under his breath, Ron spoke, knowing she was there, giving him the look she always gave him. One of exasperation, and kindness. "I can't get it out of my head that he's going to do something to you. I'm sorry for being such a git. I can't forgive him for all those years. I'm not Harry; I'm not that nice."

"You are," she said, "you just need time."

"No," he said forcefully. "I don't like living with him. It sickens me to wake up, and see him in my room. It's not right. It wasn't supposed to be this way."

Hermione sat next to him, taking his large hand. "How was it supposed to be?"

"I don't know... But not like this. Mind you, I love having you here, you know I do. He's Malfoy... I can accept it, I can get over this, but not while he's here. It's too much."

Hermione understood. Ron could only take so much. She couldn't expect him to be okay with it so soon. It was unfair to him.

Harry put a hand on her shoulder. "This is enough drama for today. We'll figure something out tomorrow. Think you can hold out that long, Ron?"

He nodded silently, and they all looked up when the front door opened. Mr., and Mrs. Weasley standing there with an armful of mysterious shapes wrapped in brown paper.

"Ronald, what happened?!" Mrs. Weasley dropped the purchases by the couch, and took her son's face in her hands.

Harry jumped into an explanation of the days events, slowing to where Ron attacked Draco, uneasy getting his best mate in trouble, and that's where Ron picked up, and took the blame. It earned him a near an hour lecture from his mother.