Draco had learned through trial and error, that the best places he could be in his true form were ones which catered to more solitary confinement. He wished greatly to return to the Quidditch shop as well as the Water Gardens, but he would rather keep himself company in his mansion than brave a public in which he was so despised only being spit upon was good day. He began to reflect on his past bullying ways, and small drops of regret in his behavior began to creep into his conscious.
While reflecting, an owl arrived, parcel in talons and promptly dropped it on his lap as he sat on his balcony one evening, about two weeks after his fun with Granger. It was easy to deduce the parcel was a broom, but the sender was the true mystery. He searched for a note and was not disappointed. It read,
Draco
Although neither of us want to relive the incident that happened outside my shop, it is a necessary preamble to understanding why I gift you this Nimbus 3000. The war is over and you have paid your penance. Paying for this broom, however, will be through bartering. A few other Ravenclaws and I get together every other month and play pick-up Quidditch games. But a turn of events has my fellow Quidditch mates and I playing sooner than expected, and with less time to train a new Seeker. To pay for this broom, you will come to our next pick-up game and champion our team in the coveted position. I trust that with a fortnight of preparation, you will not disappoint. The attached Portkey will glow at 5:30.
Roger Davies
He almost smiled at the potential behind the Quidditch game, but experience taught him better than to hope. However, the date of the game conflicted with his one and only monthly appointment. The dilemma provided him the needed excuse to contact Granger. At this, he did smile.
By morning, she had yet to respond, and the suspense prompted him to do some sleuthing. Granger, it appeared, was on holiday, and did not disclose her whereabouts except to the Head of Office. This information provided a compact blow to his ego. He had been thinking of her daily, but with this new information, he realized Granger had thought little of him. He did not seek anything romantic, but the friendship he sought would not be fulfilled by her. Thus, wounded, he did not owl her again. It helped that his free moments were spent drilling and training.
She finally owled him, a week later, apologizing for the delayed response and explaining only what he already knew. She had taken a holiday, and was returned. In the privacy of his mansion, he let his annoyance escape. Unfortunately, he was not in a portrait-free room at the time.
"Appease my curiosity, young heir. What makes you huff and puff so?" Shocked, Draco looked up and to his left, at the portrait of a great ancestor. With a family tree traced back centuries, Draco was at a lost to the true identity of the young looking wizard in the old-fashioned robes, but knew better than to snub an ancestor.
"I have found disappointment in recent news. That is all." Draco turned and began to walk away, but the portrait was not yet ready to terminate the newly birthed conversation.
"The disappointment comes from unmet expectations. Tell me—what had you expected?" Draco, with the heightened understanding that he spoke to a Malfoy, did not slump his shoulders as he so desired. He turned and faced the portrait.
"Sir, you are more dimensional than most portraits. How did you achieve this? I ask because I choose to have your conversational abilities in mine own portrait, when I have it done."
The young wizard laughed before returning his focus to Draco. "I was not this age when I died, young Malfoy. I had decades to educate myself into this portrait. My family found me ridiculous for immortalizing myself in my youth, but as you see, none of them are capable of holding conversations beyond the parameters of the vision of their painters. I am sad to say, topics with my father must remain about the quality of wine, as he drank perpetually while posing, and had given his patronage to an artist who did not know him well." At this, the wizard bowed his head and shook it in shame. "And now, since I have politely answered a question which you so brashly asked, you will answer mine, directly."
"What was the question, Sir?" The wizard was not amused, and stared at Draco, who sighed and looked to the floor before answering. "I had expected the beginning of a friendship." His vulnerable response was met with an awkward silence, and when Draco braved a glance at the portrait, he was surprised to find it vacated. Vexed, he exited the room, and magically marked the doors to remind himself not to enter it again. The exchange created a sensitivity to abandonment when before he held only disappoint in unmet expectations.
An expected parcel arrived on the morning of the Ravenclaw Quidditch match. Draco opened his journal and dutifully owled Granger with her parcel. Within minutes, his journal emitted a soft golden glow. He opened it to see she had already begun correspondence. He read as she wrote:
Hello. This is a test. Are you there?
Granger, we are no longer students. Stop making everything testable. The pause between his response and her next one led Draco to believe she was celebrating off paper. Finally, she wrote once more.
Where are we going today?
You can go wherever you wish. I have other plans. He regretted the words as soon as he wrote them.
Do your plans involve Polyjuice?
No.
I see.
He waited for more, but Granger wrote nothing else. Draco huffed and closed the journal, and prepared for his match.
Roger must have prepped his team of the identity of their Seeker, because none were shocked or reactive to his introduction by the Ravenclaw Captain. He was spoken to when needed, and truthfully, that was how Post-War Draco preferred conversations. It turned out, they were playing a bunch of Hufflepuffs. Luckily for Draco, Hufflepuffs were the most forgiving, although there were selective glares. Summerby walked over to Draco and the two Seekers shook hands.
As both teams positioned themselves, a feminine voice loudly cheered, "Go Draco! You can do this!" Draco could hear his temporary teammates snickering behind him as he traced the voice. An unrecognizable witch was jumping up and down and smiling, directly at him. The Ravenclaws, Draco had come to discover, were not a highly social bunch, and he was thankful none of them asked who the cheerer was.
The game began, the teams were evenly matched, and the Snitch was nowhere to be found. As Draco searched the skies, he could hear, "Draco, I believe in you!" He almost blushed at the encouragement rarely attached to his name. That witch-whose identity he highly suspected-would not shut up. Didn't she know, with all her book learning, that Snitches made a faint sound that could be heard? No one else had come to cheer. It was ridiculous and highly distracting.
The score was tied well into the second hour of play. Both former houses were feeling the effects of out-of-form bodies, but neither wished to concede. The Seekers could feel the pressure. And there was also the issue with the witch cheering from the ground. She surprised everyone with her ability, and her focus. Every cheer was for Draco Malfoy, but they were beginning to take on a different flavor.
"Baby, catch the Snitch like you caught me!" He actually lost his focus from the air and looked down at the witch. When did she start calling him 'Baby' and why is she insinuating they are intimate? Then, about ten minutes later, she yelled something even more embarrassing. "I know a witch likes stamina in her wizard, but sometimes a good quickie does the trick! Get that Snitch!"
Draco could not handle more embarrassment. He swooped down, within talking distance of the witch and sneered at her. "Please, stop cheering for me."
"But Baby, I thought you liked having your ego stroked. Among other things." At his shocked and angered expression she winked at him before bursting with laughter.
"Granger—"
"Nope, sorry. I'm Leona." Her wide smile infuriated him further. The witch sobered her emotions before saying, "I'll make a deal. I will keep quiet for exactly thirty minutes. If you have not ended the game by then, who knows what I will yell?" Draco glared incredulously at the witch before curtly nodding his agreement and flew off with fueled determination.
The Snitch was caught in twenty-six minutes.
As the Ravenclaws cheered, their energy renewed by victory, the Hufflepuffs collapsed on the ground, exhausted. Leona made her way to the crowd and patted all on their backs before attacking Draco by jumping on him and wrapping her legs most inappropriately around his waist. The others seemed to repel away from the scene, but Draco could hear laughter.
"Gr—" he began before the witch forced their lips together in a full on snog. He pushed her off of him and held her an arm's length away. "Stop that!" he whisper-yelled.
The witch was having too much fun. "Lucky for you, I must. I have run out of drink."
"Good." The witch looked affronted by his comment to which he finally felt victorious.
"I had to have some kind of fun. After all, I had already brewed the potion and secured the hairs." She stepped away from him and they began to follow the others towards the local pub.
"You could have saved it for next month."
"Oh, so we will continue next month? I was not sure if our excursions had been replaced by Quidditch." She was grabbing her forearm again.
Draco snickered. "You sound insecure."
She did not respond to his assessment. "I will be writing you tonight." With that comment, she disapparated, leaving Draco to answer the bombardment of questions about the strange witch to the group of Hufflepuffs and attentive Ravenclaws.
When he returned to his confinement, he was pleased to find his journal glowing.
You are welcome.
Welcome for what, Granger? You humiliated me with your falsely intimate cheers.
Did you have a nice time at the pub?
The question gave Draco pause for reflection. He realized that indeed he had had a nice time. And it was because he was able to talk about the crazy, delusional witch that stalked him at their match. Granger's antics had made Draco relatable to the others. Her actions gave everyone a commonality, a talking point. What would he have said had she not been such a scene? Sure, they would have talked Quidditch, but would it had been with the same amount of ease? Would he had been comfortable talking about himself?
Thank you. He wrote.
No problem. It was quite fun, actually. Unfortunate that you caught the Snitch in such a timely manner.
Draco chuckled. No, it was fortunate. He stared at the journal for a few seconds, wondering at Granger's pause in responding.
Malfoy, I have had a bad month. Can you just write that you are hugging me?
Her words were unexpected. Surely she had friends that would hug her. Despite the wondering, he owed her for today. I want to hug you, Granger.
Why can't I feel it?
I am hugging you, Granger.
I still can't feel it!
Puzzled, Draco looked to the wrapping of his parcel and searched for the contact information of the caster. Instead, he found a small parchment.
Dear Sir,
Because of the intensity of the spells, the parchment needs to be calibrated before the magic you experienced in my shop takes full affect. I have no doubt you will be pleased with the journals.
Lise Hallowes
Draco returned to his journal. Granger's lack of writing proved she was waiting for him. Granger, let your wards down for me.
Done.
Upon apparating, Draco was met with confused eyes. "Here, Granger." He handed her the parchment.
"I see. Why didn't you just write me?" She looked up at him, perplexed.
He sighed at her obliviousness and grabbed her arm, pulling her into his embrace. She stiffened before relaxing and wrapping her arms around him. It was the first time Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger had touched one another (except for the infamous punch).
The embrace was short lived. When he let her go, she willingly stepped away. Neither made eye contact as Draco explained himself. "I owed you for today. The next time I write that I want to hug you, you should feel it. Bye Granger."
"Bye Malfoy."
As he prepared for bed, Draco glanced periodically to his journal. It never glowed. He pulled the covers back and tucked his body under them while casting all the necessary spells to ward his room and extinguish lights. In the dark, Draco was more alone in his thoughts. He tossed and turned and finally said, "Lumos." With the light of his wand, he opened his journal and wrote. I want to hug you, Granger.
He placed his journal and quill back before casting, "Nox." However, only minutes passed before his journal glowed, lighting his room.
I want to hug you too.
Draco immediately felt her body pressed against him, and her arms wrapped around his back. The warmth of the feeling gave him the peace he searched for that night, and he fell asleep content.
A/N: Special thanks to all the reviewers: Mischief, 4fanci, Guest, HarryPGinnyW4eva, and I was BOTWP.
