HPOV
We're in the tent, and I have the radio on. Harry is sitting a way off from me, but I'm not looking at him. Ron's left us, and we're alone.
He gets up, comes over to me, and turns up the volume on the radio. He pulls me to my feet, and we dance together. It's silly and it's fun, and I can't quite help the smile. He really can't dance, bless him, but it's nice that he's trying to cheer me up. When we finish, we walk away. But I know, deep down, that I've had enough of people walking away. So I go back to him, slide my arms around his waist from behind, rest my head on his shoulder.
"Mione," he whispers. He turns around in my arms. Our lips meet, and after that it's just a frantic blur. We didn't even make it to a bed. He took me up in his arms, swept the table clear, slammed me back onto it. Neither of us cared about whether somebody got hurt. I dug my nails into his biceps, bit down hard on his shoulder when he slammed into me. I tasted blood on my lips, and when he kissed me, he growled at the taste of his own blood on my mouth. He pushed my shoulders until I was lying back. His hands raced over my body, and electric current followed them. He seized my upper arms in a bruising grip, rested his forehead against mine. "We shouldn't be doing this."
"A bit late to back out now."
"You're so fucking beautiful, Mione."
"Harry," I gasped, feeling his finger slide down my body, slipping between my legs, teasing me into a frenzy above where he had buried himself in me.
"I want to remember you like this. Coming apart in my arms, beautiful."
I sit upright in bed, gasping for breath. It had felt so real, and I'd felt so alive. I push the bedclothes away from me, get out of bed. I go to the bathroom, then listen outside Draco's door for a bit. His breathing is slow and settled, and it catches occasionally. I think he might be prone to snoring sometimes. I go back to my own room, go over to the window. The sky is still black dark. I find my watch, realise it's only three in the morning and sigh. I reckon I've had about six hours sleep. I get back into bed, aware that it's a bit chilly in my room. I hope Draco's warm enough. I didn't show him where the extra blankets were. I'm just drifting peacefully back off when an ungodly shriek echoes round the house. I fall out of bed and scramble to my feet, snatching my wand off my bedside table, and haring down the hall towards the shriek. It's Draco, struggling like the demons of hell are after him.
"Draco, wake up," I say shaking him. His eyes fly open, and he shoots up in bed, cracking me right across the bridge of the nose with his forehead. "Oh, bugger it!" I shout, reeling back, feeling my nose carefully.
"Hermione? I'm sorry."
"Are you alright?" I ask, having ascertained that my nose is neither broken nor bleeding. "I heard you scream."
"Nightmares," he gasps, through gritted teeth. "Just nightmares."
"About the war."
"How did you know?"
"I've had them myself. It's part of the reason I was taking so much Dreamless Sleep."
"I can't get my head round them. And Azkaban, Hermione, it always ends in Azkaban." I wrap him into a hug, and he shivers.
"It's alright, Draco, it's OK. I'm here now. It's OK." I hold onto him, and he hugs back, hiding his head in my shoulder. It's like holding a child. He's still so thin and pinched looking, and in his pyjamas, his pallor and fragility are emphasized. "Shall I stay here now?"
"Please." I tuck him back in, Summon my quilt and put that over him. I creep in behind him, and he slips himself into my arms. I stroke his hair and face sleepily, until his breathing settles down and he's sleeping quietly once more. I drift off myself, and don't stir again until the alarm goes off in the morning. It takes me a while to work out where I am, and turn off my watch. Draco is gone, and I sit up, rubbing sleep out of my eyes. I get up, and go downstairs, to find he's got the fire going, and he's put the kettle on. We exchange pleasantries, and I make us some breakfast. While we're washing up, he suddenly takes my hands.
"Hermione, I want to thank you for last night. Nobody's ever cared enough about me to stay with me after a nightmare. Not even my mother -." His voice trails off.
"Draco, it wasn't a problem. We can sort something out for the long-term, but for as long as you need me, I'll stay with you. Every night, if needs be."
"Why?"
"Draco, I've woken up from so many nightmares alone and scared. I would have given my right arm for someone, anyone to hold onto. Someone to be there when I woke up frightened. I can't count the amount of times I woke up feeling the claws of that - that man, screaming, desperate for someone to be there. I stayed with Harry for a while, but I had to move out. He and Ginny were newly-married for goodness sake, they didn't need me shrieking and screaming every single night."
"What about when you were with -"
"He couldn't handle it. I don't want you to think he was a bad man, Draco, because he wasn't. He was good to me, and I did love him. And he did love me, but in the end we didn't love each other in the right way. But he had his own problems, with Fred's death and George so broken, and his parents so shattered. We decided, contrary to what the papers said, that we weren't right or good for each other. I didn't know what to say to comfort him, and he didn't know how to soothe me. He tried, God knows he tried, but I was too damaged. Ron and I are still close, we still speak, and we're in a much better place now."
"The press were brutal to you, Hermione. You didn't deserve any of the crap they gave you, and you don't now. Potter was right to do what he did, even if he did wait too long."
"You mean he could have intervened before I tried to off myself? He didn't know how close I was to breaking, nobody did. Not even I knew how close I was to that edge."
"Well, yes. But at least he did something, unlike that useless idiot you call an ex-boyfriend."
"Now, Draco," I say, looking at him sternly.
"Sorry. What do you usually do with your days off?"
"It depends. Sometimes I laze about, sometimes I do some work, and sometimes I go and visit people. Today is in your hands. We could go out, do something Muggle. I always wanted to take you out to do something Muggle."
"Even at school?"
"Sometimes, although it really did depend on how annoying you were being. There were times when I could have cheerfully battered you with a rock."
"Fair enough. Lets do something Muggle." He pauses suddenly, and a frown creases between his eyebrows.
"What's the problem?"
"Am I allowed out?"
"If you're with me you are. Get your coat."
"I don't have one?"
"Then we'd better go shopping."
"I don't have any money either." He looks horribly uncomfortable. I suppose it is quite a step down for him.
"Having little money isn't the end of the world." I snap. "You're going to have to forget the lap of luxury stuff, Malfoy."
DPOV
There's a little silence. She looks shocked at her own words.
"Draco," she says, softly, her voice shaking, "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to say it. I don't know why I did."
"It's OK, Hermione. I've said worse to you."
"It doesn't excuse it," she says, clearly upset, getting up from the sofa and turning her back on me. I go over to her.
"Hermione, seriously. It's OK."
"No it isn't!" she cries, her voice sharpened by tears this time. "We were having a nice morning, and then me and my bloody stupidity -" I grab her by the shoulders and give her a shake.
"Hermione Granger, you shut up right now. I'm serious. It's over, forgotten."
"I'm sorry." I can't think of what else to do, so I take her into my arms, and give her a hug. I remember the soothing noises she made for me last night, and try my own, stroking her hair.
There's a quick knock at the door, then it opens and Harry bloody Potter strides in, interrupting the moment, and stopping dead in his tracks when he sees Hermione crying in my arms.
"Hermione? Malfoy? What in the name of Merlin is going on in here?"
"Harry!" Hermione half-shrieks, leaping from my arms like my touch burns her. "You didn't say you were coming over."
"Just to give you this. It's scan pictures…Ginny, you know…um… I'll just come back tonight." He scuttles off as fast as he possibly can, and the front door slams behind him. Hermione seems to decide that we aren't going to talk about the interruption and the surprising amount of tact Potter was able to show, despite the odd situation we'd all found ourselves in.
"The money thing isn't an issue," she says, lightly. "The money the Ministry house was getting for your board and so on has transferred to me. And even if it hadn't, I am pretty damn well off. I got a lot of money for the biography book deal, and the press - well, if you tell anyone this I'll hex you into next month, by the way - they paid me compensation after I had my breakdown. An out of court, very private deal."
"Can I ask how much?"
"One million Galleons," she says, calmly. "Around the equivalent of three million pounds in Muggle money."
"Are you joking?" I say, choking on my tea. She bangs me on the back.
"I am not. I didn't ask for it. I wanted to sue the living daylights out of them. Harry, Kingsley and Ron made me see that it wouldn't help. Shutting the paper down would just make me look petty, but compensation in secret and a very public apology would make the world see that they were the ones in the wrong."
"Good Merlin."
"Indeed. We shall buy you a coat, and how about a trip to the cinema?"
"Cinema?"
"You can watch movies there. Like the television shows, but they last for longer. It's good fun, and there are some good films on at the moment." She'd explained television to me the night before, and I'd found it fascinating to see all the different shows.
"OK."
"Oh, and Draco, we're going out into the Muggle world, so dress appropriately. Also, it is unlikely that we'll be followed by the press because of where we'll be, but if we are, just keep your head down and for pity's sake don't say anything except 'I do not want you to photograph me' or anything along those lines."
So we go out and do some shopping. Hermione makes me try on several coats, before we settle on one that is warm, stylish and practical. She also does some shopping for herself, purchasing an emerald green jumper and a new office skirt. She tells me that her old ones are getting a little tight, what with her putting on some weight. We stand outside the 'cinema' and peruse the posters. She lets me chose, and I decide on The Rise of the Planet of the Apes, because it looks interesting. She buys our tickets and a drink each, both of us declaring that we aren't hungry.
I have to admit, it's a novel experience. The screen is huge, and when the lights go down and the adverts start, I'm almost frightened by the volume. There are a lot of adverts, but some of the 'trailers', as Hermione calls them in a whisper, do look pretty good. The film is good, and I find it fun to watch. It seems a very short time until the 'credits' roll, and people start leaving their seats.
"Well, how was your first Muggle activity?"
"It was good. I don't think I'd want to do it every day, but it was very good fun. And the drink was nice - Pepsi, you called it?"
"Yes, it's a fizzy drink. I hear you tried 7-Up the other day."
"I did. The Muggle world is quite interesting, you know. And it has some good ideas." She smiles. "Did you hear that, Hermione?"
"Hear what?"
"The sound of my father turning in his grave." She swipes at my arm, but there's a smile on her face regardless.
"Draco!"
"What. He wasn't a good father, Hermione. In fact, he was rubbish. Not violent or anything, he just didn't care. Didn't have anything to do with me as a child, and when he did start having anything to do with me or taking an interest, it was because he was grooming me to join the Death Eaters and kill people. He was not a nice man."
"I can't really sympathise, Draco."
"Tell me about your parents." She takes my arm as we round the corner into a dingy alley, and Apparates us back to her cottage.
"My parents were dentists. Before we knew I was a witch - I didn't do anything truly outrageous when I was a child. I made lots of coloured lights appear and brought the occasional flower back to life, but nothing too mad. Anyway, before we knew why all that was happening, they never made me feel like I was wrong, or bad, or wicked for what was happening, unlike Harry's family. When the letter arrived, they were so proud of me. But before that, when I was a child, I can't remember ever being left with a babysitter. They did everything they could to make sure I had a happy childhood. They were always there. We used to go on a holiday once a year, always to Wales. Different places in it, but always Wales. We'd go pony-trekking, and had days on the beach, we visited castles and open farms, zoos and stately homes. We went hiking, and biking, and even once went water-skiing, although I can't say that was my favourite. I liked the castles and the houses, and the walking. All good fun. But most of all, they were just there for me. Even when my world became something they didn't understand and was slightly frightening for them, they stayed supportive. I was their only one, and letting me go off to Hogwarts was a huge break for them. They were so proud of me."
"Could I meet them?"
"They died, Draco. I did everything I could to protect them when the war started, wiping their memories of any trace of me, building them new lives. I got them out of the Death Eater's way and then they were killed in a bloody lightening storm. I protected them from everything but the world. My best wasn't enough. I miss them every day. I brought them back here, buried them and so on. Mourned, started getting over it."
"I'm sorry."
"Wasn't your fault. You didn't send that lightening strike."
"No, I suppose not."
"Do you want some dinner? I can teach you how to cook."