Author's Note: I took some liberty with the historical accuracy of when iPods were invented, for the sake of the story. Also, as always, the world is all Rowling- I'm just playing around in it for awhile.


Magic vs. Muggles


"All your actin', your thin disguise

All your perfectly delivered lies

They don't fool me- you've been

Lonely, too long" -Dust to Dust by Civil Wars

Morning broke on them like a thunderstorm; the sun drenched Granger's bedroom with buttery summer light. Malfoy stretched his cramped limbs and then peeked over to find the bed empty.

He scowled. So much for waking up on the right side of the bed.

The smell of rashers was filtering through the cracked door. Draco's stomach grumbled in response. It had been days since he had hot food and pride wasn't going to keep him starving. After making himself presentable in the bathroom- a term used loosely considering he was being held hostage- Draco found Granger about the kitchen. Rashers were plated with toast on a dining table, little dishes of butter and jam placed in line.

He smirked while she cracked eggs into a skillet and then watched her lightly dance over to the squealing electric kettle. "Well, aren't you cheerful in the morning," he noted, casually leaning back on the door jamb.

She spared a distracted glance over her shoulder and then attended to the eggs, sprinkling unknown ingredients into the pan. "Why don't you make yourself useful and prepare the coffee or tea?" she directed.

He stared at the kettle as if it were a torture device. "Seriously? You can't afford someone to do all this for you?"

"That's rich coming from you, Malfoy. You don't afford the house elves that cook your meals; you enslave them." Granger said this as she reached around him for two mugs and a canister of black grounds. Draco didn't even feel compelled to retort because not an ounce of accusation laced her tone. "Is coffee all right?" she asked.

He snapped from his reverie and nodded, discreetly watching as she measured out spoonfuls of the earthy coffee and poured it with the hot water into a press. Balancing the press, sugar bowl, and creamer, Granger made her way to the table then proceeded to finish the eggs.

Malfoy took a seat in silence as the insufferable enigma in front of him deposited a few fried eggs onto his plate. The two silently filled their dishes, the fresh grassy scent rising from the eggs confusing Draco such that when Granger moved to pour his coffee, he snapped.

"What are you playing at? Is this some elaborate scheme to poison me so I'm out of the way?"

"Such a typical Slytherin," she snorted humorously. "That's a bit diabolical. I just assumed if I was going to eat breakfast, you might as well too." Granger then took an exaggerated bite of her eggs, arching her brows in challenge.

"You're not unfamiliar with being diabolical, Granger," Malfoy grumbled as he took another curious sniff of the eggs. Shrugging internally, he forked them in with a bit of rasher and was grudgingly pleased to note she added parsley and dill to the eggs.

Damn Muggles and their manual cooking skills.

For awhile, the two munched on their butter-drenched toast and sipped coffee- both cups with a heavy hand of cream; he refused to acknowledge that she took it the same way as him. As the breakfast drew to a close, so did their bubble of ignorant bliss. Granger cleared away the plates while the weight of last night's memories started to cause a thumping in Draco's head.

"So," she began with that grating tone of self awareness, " a dare shall be quite invigorating this morning."

His head pounded ten-fold even as an odd buoyancy was spreading through his food-fatigued limbs. With narrowed eyes, he tracked Granger as she walked to the back door, grabbing a mysterious chain off the wall. "Are you coming?" she asked before opening the door.

Draco shrugged his shoulders but unfolded himself from the chair. Like the flow of water, his uninterrupted movements pulled him to full height while he seamlessly pushed in the chair. From head to toe, Draco was a model of contrasts; he was still clothed in his black tee and trousers which made the alabaster expanse of skin nearly glow.

Granger seemed confunded on the spot.

Ha! Perhaps I am talented enough to perform wandless magic. Confundus via sexiness.

He made to follow Granger which snapped her from her woolgathering. Turning to go outside, Draco just caught the way her bottom lip disappeared between those pearly whites. He felt like he already won the round.

Meanwhile, Granger had moved on to the solitary car left in the lane, used the mysterious chain on the door, and proceeded to open it with a grand, sweeping hand gesture.

"Care for a ride, Malfoy?" she mildly taunted.

His traitorous body hummed at the idea of a different ride entirely. He sneered at Granger, simultaneously digging his nails into his palmsto gain self-control.

"This is your dare? Did you expect me to be scared of your muggle contraptions?" Draco scoffed, burying the wariness in his quicksilver eyes.

The laughter melted from Granger's face, leaving behind serious eyes that darted quickly to his left forearm. "Sadly," she reflected, "There's not much I expect from you." She turned away from him and walked around the car, entering it from the opposite side.

Draco scowled at the open door, a clear invitation though he wasn't sure to what.

Granger wouldn't just make this a car ride. If she could, this would become a no-escape inquisition.

Scratching idly at his left forearm, he strolled his way over to the car and folded himself inside knowing that it was too early in their little game to forfeit.

Granger flipped her riotous curls back from her face as she started the car. The concealed space in front of Draco's folded limbs vibrated with an ominous roar; his eyes widened in evident panic as Granger willed the car out of the lane.

She glanced over at him and said, "You should put on your seatbelt."

"What the fuck is a seatbelt," he snapped, while gripping two relatively solid pieces of the car.

She huffed then reached across Draco for a strap dangling behind him. The heat of her arm seared Draco, the warmth gathering in his stomach as she deftly maneuvered the strap into some locking mechanism. "That is a seatbelt. Would you like to take a stab at what that means," Granger gibed, her frame again within the confines of her seat.

Draco snorted, not deigning to reply to her condescension. He instead turned his focus out the window, where the view was shifting from houses and muggles to fields and eccentric creatures. They were wispy, white puff balls that looked like clouds as they mingled in the verdant, swaying grass. It was surprisingly soothing to Draco as the scenery distracted him from the gathering speed of the car but then, Granger started to natter.

"Those are sheep. Muggles use their wool to make clothing."

A brief, wondrous pause. He blinked slowly at her.

"You can milk them as well. Most people use the milk to make cheese."

Another moment of silence, too short to appreciate.

"The muggles out here survive -" but Draco cut off the nonsensical narrative.

"Is there a point to all this, Granger?" He turned his head to look at her, grateful that her brown bird's nest was pushed back from her profile. All the better for observing. Granger's cheeks suffused with pink and the muscle in Draco's cheek twitched in response.

"I'm just making conversation," she prattled, following the unconvincing statement with another of those tell-tale pauses. His lips thinned with barely restrained annoyance as his darkening irises bore into Granger's profile.

She sucked in a fortifying breath and plowed forward. "Considering the situation we've been thrust into," she sliced a glance at Draco, "I don't see the problem with interacting in a relatively neutral way. You never know what could be learned from this perspective."

He laughed bitterly. Granger pressed on something with her foot and the car quickened around the curve, causing Draco's heart to climb his throat. He swallowed the panicky exhilaration, then twisted fully towards Granger while bracing his position with his arm locked on the front of the car.

He hissed, "You think you're real fucking cunning. And less than an hour ago you were mocking me for typical Slytherin behavior," Draco's hand connected hard with the car's interior, the pain singing along his veins. "I'm not the dimwit duo; you can't lead me into learning something from you, especially since there is nothing you could teach me!"

The car was traveling at an alarmingly swift speed but Draco's focal point was the crystal clear vision of Granger in all her crotchety glory.

"There's quite a bit you could learn but you refuse to expand your view past the walls of Malfoy Manor! I've already proven that I'm quite knowledgeable about some of your nuances."

He groused back at her, "Are we back to that loner babble again?" She neither confirmed nor denied it; Granger concentrated as she sped the car faster down the winding lane while the scene outside blurred to resemble the hazy smoke of crystal balls.

Draco pressed on, the tightening muscles of his arm revealed bulging veins and a bothersome mark. "After all this time, I don't know how you could mistake me for some toady Gryffindor." His speech had slowed to a drawl but the sneer on his face was colored green, even as he tried to keep the envy from his voice. "You can't turn me into a perfect copy of your precious Potter. I'm a Malfoy, for fuck's sake."

A screech split the air as Granger brought the car to an immediate halt. The occupants breathed heavily into the closed space oppressive with ire. She turned to look at him, fiery amber eyes with the ability to melt steel gray.

"Yes, you're a Malfoy. But first, you're Draco," Granger persisted.

It took every ounce of willpower for Draco not to hurl himself from the car and head back in the direction they came. He would even welcome the walking; anything would be better than listening to Granger try to riddle out his life in her irritatingly logical tone of voice.

With carefully calculated movements, Draco turned back in his seat so only the profile of his inflexible features were visible to Granger. The sound of his name on her lips walked the twin edge of benediction and curse; he thought about asking her to obliviate him just so he wouldn't have to endure the reverberations of that memory echoing around his brain.

The silence had gone on for far too long and he knew Granger could be a tenacious little witch so Draco leveled his voice and said, "I've done your dare. You can provide a truth on the ride back."

Leaning forward, Granger attempted to make eye contact but Draco's gaze was distant on some unknown point out the window. She sighed resignedly and started the car. Granger directed it at a more sedate pace on the route back, the repetitive hum of the wheels on the road like a lullaby.

Draco's immovable body relaxed minutely into the seat even as his mind raced on. The present situation was all at once frustrating, frightening, and fascinating. In the rare time that a moment of relative peace was afforded him, Draco berated his usual razor sharp focus which should be on retrieving his wand and getting the fuck out of the house.

And yet…

He was theoretically fulfilling the Dark Lord's orders, albeit in an unconventional way. Draco's eyes slanted toward the princess of unconvention herself. She, too, slunk behind her mask; the impossible-to-tame curls blocking any view of Granger's current mood.

The possibility to slake his curiosity and also gather information for the task was too much to resist. Draco crossed his arms and speculated out loud, "Why haven't you gone to your boyfriend's house already?"

Granger's head whipped around as the car's speed decreased dramatically.

"What are you talking about?" she exclaimed after she recovered control of the car.

"Truth, Granger."

He turned his head to watch the play of emotion on her face that he couldn't help but find utterly satisfying. Especially when that emotion was consternation.

"Well," she trailed off, her lips puckering with displeasure, "I've told you how my parents and I have been distant since I practically started at Hogwarts. Lack of common ground, I suppose."

Granger paused and inhaled shakily. "As unpredictable as the world is becoming, I had hoped to spend some time with them in case-" her voice cut out, the pain of the topic sharp like the end of a knife.

Draco waited rather patiently considering his Malfoy upbringing and was rewarded when she added, "-and he's not my boyfriend." An odd thrill worked its way through Draco's insides at the statement.

Houses were blurred specks on the horizon. The no-escape inquisition he had dreaded was drawing to a close and yet the idea of exiting the car held no appeal.

Might as well push my luck.

Draco snorted with derision. "I'd be embarrassed to tie myself to him too, Granger."

Remarkably, her hair puffed with renewed agitation. "Shut it, Malfoy. If anything, Ron would be embarrassed to tie himself to me. That is, if he saw me as more than a friend," Granger mumbled this last bit, realizing too much had been revealed.

The concession brought on by his goading served like a rebounded curse; Draco felt unnaturally backed into a corner by her divulgence with no hope of responding correctly to Granger who had blushed herself motionless.

Suddenly, the ever-closer houses were a relief.

They arrived back at the Granger residence and exited the car without further conversation. Upon entering the back door, Granger quickened her steps across the tiled kitchen and turned on Draco.

The physical distance traveled up her body resulting in stiffened posture and hardened irises.

"Truth," she started, "mind telling me what information you've passed on to Voldemort?"

Draco felt the ice slip down his spine at the use of that name. He considered lying but felt he didn't have much more room in his life for dishonesty and there were bigger lies yet to tell.

"There hasn't been much to report, prior to seeing that journal. You lead a pretty boring life," Draco taunted. She stared back, unfazed by his attempt to deflect. Malfoy sighed and wondered for the hundredth time why he had to be stuck tailing the bright one of the bunch; Weasley would have been ignited by the insult and propelled off course.

So much for small mercies.

"Honestly, Granger, the most specific piece I relayed was Saint Potter's movement on the 14th." Her tawny complexion paled at his admission. The slightest trembling entered her body, creating shallow little breaths to erupt from her chest.

"You read my letters! But more importantly that means- he could… and Harry isn't safe; the Weasley's aren't safe! I need to-" she rambled until Draco cut her off impatiently.

"Relax Granger! He's not interested in Potter. Yet. He's interested in you." At that foolish comment, her eyes went wide with bewildered fear. Malfoy strongly considered grabbing the nearest utensil to jab his own eyes out rather than clarify that statement.

Bloody hell.

"I didn't mean it like that," he fumbled but she was without mercy.

"Honesty or nothing, Malfoy. I have no space in my life for your half-ass version of kindness." Draco moved to the table and collapsed in the chair while his hand found the roots of his pale locks and pulled. Fiercely. She was a mirror with every impulsive word that spilled from her mouth and he hated it, hated the way it twined the most insubstantial connection between them.

So, in response, he sprawled in the dining chair, at complete odds with her rigid stance as she tapped her foot with increasing speed. He quirked his mouth innocently.

Granger stalked out of the room, her brown hair the last thing he saw before her stomps on the stairwell echoed into the kitchen. There was nothing for it but to follow her. Malfoy reached the top of the stairs with a renewed, confident bounce to his step until he saw her, seated at her desk studying the journal. He dared not make a sound, hoping the significance of the entry it was left open to would remain hidden in the silence, where all other dangerous, unspoken things dangled unrealized.

He knew this task would cause trouble; if only he had been sent to track Weasley… that at least had the prospect of ending with some bloodshed. Draco moved discreetly to his makeshift bed, affecting an idle position as he viewed Granger from hooded eyes. She seemed frozen by the words in front of her.

The most shameful paranoia flushed his body and he felt like his pale white skin must be glowing as red as a summer sunset. He grappled for words to distract her, knowing that she would overanalyze the information to death but she beat him to the punch. Draco thought it could be possible that he left here with a self-esteem problem...

That would be if I gave a fuck about what the mudblood thought.

"Why do you hate Harry so much?" she asked. Granger's eyes found him over her shoulder, the irises taking on a curious, cautious glint. The silence stretched. "You don't have to answer; I've already asked for my truth but…" she hesitated, her mind clearly torn on whether she should venture further.

She did, indeed. "But I couldn't help but make certain assumptions as to why you have such a low opinion of Harry."

Grey eyes steeled in defense. "I don't owe you an explanation," he gritted. Granger stared overlong, the swirl of emotions in her eyes nearly melting his reserve.

Too quickly, they dipped back to the journal as she replied, "No. I guess you don't." Shuffling for a book on the shelves beside her desk, she returned to a crisp attitude. "I need to do some reading so you'll have to amuse yourself for a few hours."

Draco blinked, then scowled. "Wait- what? How?" Granger grabbed a small device from atop the desk and tossed it in his direction without looking.

"This should keep you pretty occupied," she answered. The small box landed in his lap. It was smooth with what appeared to be buttons along the side and face. Attached was a thin cord with two circular orbs hanging from the end.

"Unbelievable," he grumbled while turning the device in his palm. "A Malfoy waiting on a Mudblood." The screen glowed as his thumb ran curiously over the face button.

Granger remained studious and silent in her seat.

The little screen had words inked across it, including various symbols he didn't recognize. His eyes automatically read the phrase "Fix you" and a word that mysteriously stated "Coldplay". A noise started vibrating from the little orbs so he gave into his curiosity and brought them to his ears, noticing that they fit nicely into the shell.

He couldn't believe he was being lowered to muggle entertainment. If he were honest, a hundred diversions would be available to him were he at home.

His last logical thought was that all of them would have bored him to tears.

oOo

Hours passed. An impromptu tea was scattered on her mattress, cooled dredges with uneaten sandwich crusts.

Granger read, having moved to a more comfortable recline on the bed while Malfoy alternated between napping and listening via the little circular buds. The room had become a pleasant cocoon where the ill-paired housemates exuded a strange sense of contentment in the setting sun's golden light. Draco felt like all the music he'd listen to drowned out the perpetual drum from fear-inducing thoughts, giving way for all those fantasies to break the dam of self-preservation.

Without thought, his eyes slanted to Granger. The breath caught in his throat momentarily; she was a mess with the way her frizzy hair framed her face. In the warm fading light, she was a golden-hued piano where he could tap out the beat of the music along her tanned skin.

Something foolish bubbled up inside him. There had been too much sentimentality that afternoon and it was making his brain go soft. He needed to stop these thoughts immediately. Eject them from his head. Light them on fire for good measure.

So he blurted out the first relatively safe topic to cross his mind.

"How are magic folk and muggles equal?"

The witch almost fell off the bed, as startled as she was by Malfoy's question. Her eyes swung up to him, filled with questions of her own but Draco refused to give up control.

"Humor me, Granger," he said with his typical smirk. "It is your truth so explain- how is it that you believe them to be equal?"

Not surprisingly, she jumped at the opportunity. Eager little Gryffindor… it made him want to vomit. Her body swung around in the chair, her torso arching with enthusiasm in Draco's direction. He suppressed the shiver of awareness that raised the pale, fine hairs on his neck.

Granger cleared her throat in preparation for her speech. "Well," she considered, "let's start with the iPod in your hands." He glanced down at the device, instantly puzzled by the name she referred to it by. "Don't worry about its name. Just know that muggles used their kind of magic- technology- to create a device that holds thousands of songs that you can carry in your pocket and play at will."

Draco was almost diverted by that information as he marveled at the notion that such a small, innocuous box could carry so much.

"It doesn't even weigh anything," he said. She sent an amused smile in his direction.

"Data isn't weighed in the same increments as, say, books. Although we could argue that books carry a weight of their own that's immeasurable by human standards." Granger's eyes took on a glassy quality, resembling the toffees his Mom would send during his early years at Hogwarts.

Clearing his throat to bring attention back to the present moment, he countered her example with disappointing ease.

"So muggles can invent things? Big deal. Wizards are just as capable with perhaps the edge that actual magic brings." The pale wizard dramatized a flippant flick of his wand to denote his point.

Granger opened her mouth to dispute but ended up scrunching her face in consternation. The distance and comfort of the bed were forgotten as she crawled across the floor, stopping less than a foot from Draco. He stiffened, then pushed himself to an upright position, all manner of sophistication vanishing as he crossed his legs.

"What about the music itself?"

He looked at her blankly. "What about it?"

"Well, there's magic in the words, the combination of notes," she remarked. He rolled his eyes, feeling the heat of frustration infuse his limbs as she failed to clearly deliver her argument.

"Wizards got music too, genius," Draco condescended. A little huff of breath left her mouth, disturbing the curls dangling by her chin.

"I understand that," Granger enunciated, "but Muggles have a way about speaking of things in their music that just… move you. You've been listening for hours- you didn't feel anything remotely like that?"

Her eyes found his, froze them. Warm brown warring with arctic gray.

He lied right through his teeth. "No, I didn't feel a thing. I've just been bored out of my mind."

After a moment rife with suspicion on Granger's end, she still refused to cede victory; she plucked the music box from his hands and ran her thumb along an invisible circular track, simultaneously piercing Draco with a pensive stare. When she was satisfied, she told Malfoy to place one earbud in his ear. Then, Granger cautiously scooted closer to him to place the other earbud in her own ear.

Their faces and bodies were parallel, carefully not touching. She cleared her throat. "I'd like you to listen to this song and at the end, honestly say whether or not you were moved."

It was like a heartbeat in his ears before the lyrics began.

"It's not your eyes

It's not what you say

It's not your laughter that gives you away

You're just lonely

You've been lonely, too long

All your actin'

Your thin disguise

All your perfectly delivered lies

They don't fool me

You've been lonely, too long

Let me in the wall you've built around

We can light a match and burn it down

Let me hold your hand and dance 'round and 'round the flame

In front of us

Dust to

You've held your head up

You've fought the fight

You bear the scars

You've done your time

Listen to me

You've been lonely too long"

At this point, Draco's mind blanked as it frantically scrambled to throw together a wall before the barrage of emotions battered at his weakened defenses.

Damn her. Damn her and all her bloody, tenacious, anger-inducing attempts at emotional entrapment.

Of all the emotions he ever felt for Hermione Granger, none felt so pure or intense as the hate that coursed through Draco's veins at that very second. He gathered it into the center of himself, much how he imagined an Unforgivable would feel like, ready to unleash it as the song dimly came to a close.

Granger's eyes fluttered in his direction, already glassy with guilt. The beast inside Draco let out.

"You clearly have a death wish," he murmured lethally while chucking the earbud at her lap. "That's all I can gather," Draco's voice grew as he came up onto his knees to lend his height to the threat. "Because if you think for one second that song unlocked some epiphany then you're not as smart as everyone thinks you are." He pulled in a hot breath as he glared and towered over her. "In fact, you're fucking delusional!"

Draco yelled without moderation, desperate for some normal reaction from her to reset his equilibrium.

Granger was trembling below him, her eyes now locked on the late afternoon sun that was partially blocked by his inadvertently cast her in shadow which left Granger's emotional response to his tirade a complete mystery to Draco. His focus was so intent upon her face, intent upon determining if the two of them were back to status quo, that it took a moment for Draco to recognize the feathering along his arm to be her fingertips. Granger crept gently up his forearm and past his elbow. It was a relentless, gentle journey and his traitorous skin reacted, rising to greet her like an old friend.

Her hold turned firm as she gripped his upper arm; the witch pulled herself to be level with Draco so that their opposite shoulders brushed with every breath. Granger's lips aligned with his ear and he couldn't even break away, so shocked was he by her atypical behavior.

The breath fell delicately upon his ear, like the promise of a kiss, and it was beyond Draco's control when his eyes fell closed.

Unable to hide the tremble that rippled through her body, Granger whispered, "Do you feel that? That is not exclusive to magical blood."

He felt it, that barely there shimmer wreaking all sorts of havoc on his carefully constructed ideology and he wanted so badly to just lean into her and surrender to his baser instincts' demands.

But recognition of such a thought had him stumbling back to the floor in shocked disgust. The gravity of the situation crashed in on him, waves of lust and revulsion and a bone-aching guilt. She had dared to cross a line that she had drawn between them years before, a line that had been fortified by his own self-preservation. Clinging to the last of that self-respect he railed at her, "You're not going to convince everyone in the wizarding world of that tripe."

Granger had stood once he stumbled back onto his bottom and was halfway out the door when she paused. "No," she mused, "but I may convince one, though."