Hermione approached me about two hours ago.
"Hi, Draco," she said.
I looked up, but didn't say anything.
She bit her lip in that nervous habit she has. "Can I sit here?"
She gestured to the seat next to me, and I shrugged. She sat gingerly on the edge of the chair.
"What have you been writing?" she asked.
"Nothing," I replied.
"The way you've been working on it, it can't be nothing," she said with a kind smile. Merlin, she was trying so hard to be nice to me.
"A letter," I said, and glared at her, letting her know the subject was not up for discussion.
"I see," she said. There was a pause, and then, "Would you like to go out for lunch with me?"
I smirked. "What's wrong, Granger, can't get enough of me?"
She rolled her eyes, but played along. "That's exactly it, Malfoy. You're so bloody charming, I just can't imagine spending a day without your company."
I never knew Hermione could be sarcastic. I suppose that's rare.
I shoved my papers and Self-Inking Quill into my bag, and got up. I started walking toward the door, but soon realized Hermione wasn't following me. I turned back, and she looked up at me with confusion written across her face.
"Well, are we getting lunch or not?" I asked.
She smiled and followed me out.
---
At the café we got our food, sat at our table, and for once, I was the one to break the usual ten-minute silence.
"I didn't mean what I said… about Mudbloods and… um… you know," I said pathetically.
"I gathered as much," Hermione replied. "I do care, though. My offer still stands."
"The one where we help each other?" I asked.
She nodded.
"Isn't that what we're doing now?" I asked. She looked puzzled, so I continued. "We come here every day, to talk, but really, I wouldn't even be eating lunch if we didn't."
"Yeah, I guess we are helping each other," Hermione said, and smiled. She thought for a moment, then said, "Did you eat anything yesterday?"
I frowned. "Helping each other doesn't mean you get to act like my mother."
"I'm sorry. I was just wondering," she said.
I sipped my coffee, taking my time before continuing the conversation. "Yesterday I ate some dry cereal, and a plate of food from the hospital cafeteria, which I threw up an hour later."
"I can't say I'm faring much better," she replied.
We ate in silence for a few moments.
"Where is your mother?" Hermione asked me. The question was sudden, and surprised me.
When I had regained my composure I said, "I don't know."
I really don't. She disappeared after the Final Battle. I'd like to think she's not dead, but that seems highly unlikely.
"Is she… um… like your father?" Hermione asked.
I sneered. "You mean evil, callous, and willing to sacrifice herself to a tyrant? No."
Hermione frowned at my choice of words. "Did they… love each other?" she asked.
"At some point, I suppose they must have, but by the time I was old enough to understand the complexities of what was going on, both within our family and with Voldemort, any love between them had become… strained."
"I can't imagine what it must have been like growing up with that. It seems so tense," Hermione said.
"My mother loved me, and my father taught me how to be a Malfoy. He bestowed his beliefs on me as fact, which is why I treated you and Wea- Ron so terribly for so long. I was unable to distinguish the two," I said. It was an apology. You know I'm bad with those, Harry. You're the only person I've ever managed a decent apology for.
But Hermione seemed to understand.
So, you see? We're okay, Hermione and me. I managed to make friends with the Mudblood. At the end of lunch, she even said she supports our relationship, if you still want me. And I know you do.
You can wake up now, Harry.
Please, please, wake up.