A/N – Sort of an in-between chapter. And it's short. But it's something, so Imma pat myself on the back now.
The house was quiet as Draco plodded down the old steps to the basement kitchen. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes for what felt like the hundredth time. Some mornings were more difficult than others. He murmured a greeting in Harry's direction; the Gryffindor sat alone at the kitchen table, nursing a cup of tea and some toast.
"'Nother letter?" Draco muttered inquisitively as he sat across from the newly appointed Auror.
"Yeah," Harry said, "How did you know it was her?"
Draco groaned. "One of the perks of never leaving the house, I suppose, is getting to know your housemates better than you ever wanted to know them. And I know when you get that look on your face, all nostalgic and concerned and pensive, that it must have to do with Granger. So what did she write this time?" He wasn't interested, of course. It was just polite to ask.
Harry shrugged in a way that Draco supposed was to show indifference. "Same old. And since when do you care, Malfoy? You hated Hermione."
Draco felt his face contort into his perfected sneer. "I don't care, Potter, I was just being courteous." 'Curious,' he corrected silently. Definitely curious. "And anyway, I didn't hate Granger. I envied her smarts, yeah. I can admit that now. And I was set against her because of her lineage, but I didn't hate her. I didn't know her. I thought I knew Granger, what she was about, all stuck up and know-it-all bossiness. But I don't know a thing about Hermione, nor do I pretend to... well, except that she left some pretty decent books in the attic."
The anger on Harry's face vanished as quickly as it had appeared. "Yeah, you do seem to like those books. You'll run out, eventually, you do know that?"
"Yeah. I know. But every time I think I've found all of them, read all of them, I stumble upon another and it's just as good as the rest. How that witch found time to actually study schoolwork is beyond me."
Harry laughed. "I know, it boggles the mind. I'm actually surprised you two have similar tastes in books. I mean, I guess I'm surprised that you enjoy Muggle books so much."
Draco rolled his eyes dramatically. "It's easy to enjoy anything when it's the only option. And anyway, they are interesting... I feel as if I've learned quite a bit about that world. The Muggle one, I mean. They don't even need magic, really. They've worked around it, invented things. They're actually quite brilliant, Muggles." Merlin, his father must be rolling in his grave.
"They don't need it because they don't know it," Harry spoke quietly. "If they knew, if they were capable... I think they'd need it."
What the Gryffindor meant by that, Draco had no idea. "Is Granger okay?" He wasn't sure why he asked the question. As he had said, he didn't know the girl. But he was curious; had been for some time, actually. It was natural, of course. She was the missing piece to the Gryffindor puzzle. He was living in the house she had once inhabited; he was reading her books. He had gone through most of her things in search of more books, in fact. He was pretty sure the gray-blue duvet that occupied his bed was once hers. It still smelled sort of like her things; that faint floral with a slight bite. He still couldn't place it. Lavender?
Yes, he was curious about this young woman who was still such a part of the Golden Trio, even when absent. He had heard the whispered conversations between Potter and the Weasel, saw how even now the Weasel's eyes would turn just the slightest bit sad at the mention of her name. He was glad the ginger had stopped moping around, though. It had been pathetic, how despondent he had been after the witch had left. It had been Potter that finally helped him through it, although it had taken the better part of a year. Draco had noticed it all, even as he tried hard not to do so. Like he said, it was part and parcel of never leaving the house. He got to know his housemates very well, whether he liked it or not.
And yeah, he liked Potter. The Gryffindor had slowly grown on him, very slowly at times. But, okay, he sort of got why everyone liked the Boy Who Lived. (Did he just seriously think that? He was turning into such a Hufflepuff). He was quick-witted, and stubborn, but a good friend, and slow to judge too harshly. And he had saved Draco's life more than he would like to admit. He was good at silences, never spoke just to fill the emptiness. Draco had a lot of silences in his life, especially when Potter and the Weasel were at the Ministry and Story was at school. He was good at including Draco as well, which was something the Malfoy heir greatly appreciated, even if he never said it. So they were friends now. Which was weird. And maybe a little wrong.
Harry had still not answered the question, and his forehead was even more creased now, if that was possible. "Harry. Is Granger okay?"
"I don't think so. I mean, I don't know, really." He sighed softly. "She never writes all that much, and when she does, it's all very vague. She's in school, which she says is fine, and she seems to enjoy her job at the bookstore. Every so often she mentions friends... well, friend. She mentions a girl named Elizabeth, who seems to be good for her. Someone to spend time with, to talk to. But it's like she's not really writing me, she's just describing a scene. Do you know what I mean? It's like it's not happening to her, it's happening to someone else and she's just relaying the information to me. The only time it really sounds like her is when she talks about her parents. I know that's good at least. She's with her parents, and that makes her happy. But she seems lost." He paused and worried an already-torn fingernail with his teeth. "I don't know what to do about it. I thought all of this might possibly break her, but I think it did. I think it really did, and I don't know what to do to help her. Because she doesn't want my help, any of our help." He looked down at his lap and frowned. He usually didn't talk about these things to anyone, especially Draco.
The Slytherin was still lost. Granger said she was fine, but she wasn't, and Harry knew this how? "What did you mean, about her being broken? What broke her?"
Harry studied the blonde closely, ignoring the question. It was after several long minutes that he spoke again. "You're so different, Draco. I don't know how to deal with it sometimes. There's a part of me that's still waiting for you to turn tail and go back to who you were."
Draco was silent, unsure of where this was going.
"But it's a good different," Harry said definitively. "It's nothing I would have guessed, you and me sitting here, having a real conversation. But it sort of works. Do you know what I mean?"
Draco grinned sardonically. "Like I said, Potter... It's easy to enjoy anything when it's the only option." He continued, "But you didn't answer my question. What broke Hermione?"
"I did," Harry whispered, suddenly more serious that Draco had seen him in long time. "I asked her to make sacrifices, and she did. I knew she wouldn't be able to face up to them right away. I guess I just thought she'd eventually move on, and come back. But now I'm not sure if she ever will." Harry's fingers tapped a disjointed rhythm on his mug and the table shook just slightly with the anxious movement of his tapping foot.
Draco remained silent. If Harry didn't want to say more than that, well, that's how it would stay. He wouldn't press the Gryffindor for more information. Not now, anyway.
"Yesterday would have been my mother's birthday." Merlin, he really was turning into a Hufflepuff. All of this sharing, speaking to Potter in confidences... pathetic. He hadn't meant to say it. He had been thinking of moving on, and how Hermione couldn't, and then he thought about himself, and his parents, and their inheritance, their property, their expectations...
Harry nodded almost imperceptibly. "You didn't want to visit her grave." It wasn't a question.
He shrugged, attempting the same indifference Harry had mimed earlier. "It's not that I didn't want to." That was it, no explanation. 'It's just that I couldn't.' The unspoken afterthought.
Harry nodded again, and was silent.
They sat there for a while, nursing cold tea, saying nothing. Draco had a lot of silences in his life. Harry was good at silences, never spoke just to fill the emptiness.
"Oh Hermiiiione..." The voice sing-songed through the store, searching for a certain wavy-haired girl. "I know you're here, I saw your car out back."
The voice wandered through stacks of books, weaving between shelves. "Hermione?"
There was no answer.
The young woman made her way to the back of the small shop and saw her friend seated, leaning against a desk, head in her arms. "Hermione!" She rushed to the girl's side and shook her.
"Hmmmm?" Large, amber eyes blinked, staring straight ahead but not focusing on any one single thing.
"Hermione!" Elizabeth snapped her fingers. "What's wrong? Did you seriously fall asleep on the job? Anyone could just walk in here and steal..." she looked around, "books. Pretty much just books. Are you okay?"
Hermione yawned and stretched. "Yeah, I guess I just fell asleep... I don't know. Maybe I'm coming down with something."
Elizabeth rolled her eyes dramatically. "Maybe you're coming down with the 'a new semester starts on Monday and I prefer to stay on holiday' flu." Her tone was teasing but she still felt uneasy. It wasn't at all like Hermione to slack on the job. It was downright out of character.
Hermione smiled sleepily. "As long as I don't have any more classes with Rodney, I'm fine going back to university." She frowned, "I thought you were stopping by around eight. Did you get off work early?"
"'Mione. Look at your watch."
"Gods!," Hermione exclaimed, "Please tell me that's not right. Tell me that I didn't sleep for almost two hours at work."
Elizabeth smiled widely and held out her wristwatch. "Oh that's definitely right. Such a slacker." She clucked her tongue and shook her finger.
Hermione's voice was frantic as she mentally went over her to-do list. "Would you mind helping me out just a bit? I was in the middle of inventory when I took a break and came in here to rest my eyes... two hours ago."
"Yeah, 'Mione, I'd be happy to help. The sooner we get out of here, the sooner we get to eat." Elizabeth grabbed a pile of precariously stacked books from her friend and smirked. "And anyway, I never got to hear about your foray into nightclubs. You talk, I'll count books, yeah?"
Hermione groaned but nodded her consent. "It was terrible... first of all, Michelle ordered me this truly horrific drink, looked damn near electric and tasted like... like... cotton candy and cough syrup combined." She shivered at the memory and laughed along with her friend. "I'm not saying anything else until you start counting."
After counting far, far too many books, Hermione had closed up shop. She had brought Elizabeth back to hers in order to change clothes.
"Come on in," Hermione said, "and I'll introduce you to my folks." The two young woman made their way to the kitchen where Helen sat with a book and a cup of tea.
"Oh hey sweetie, I didn't hear you come in." Helen looked past her daughter to the girl standing behind her and smiled. "You must be Elizabeth."
Elizabeth smiled warmly and held out her hand. "It's so nice to meet you, Mrs. Granger. 'Mione talks about you all the time."
"Please, call me Helen. Hermione talks about you a lot too; for instance, I know I have you to thank for finally convincing her that trainers are not appropriate in every circumstance. You think she'd be more excited about clothes after having to wear a uniform in school all of the time."
"I'll have you know that we came back here so I could change, Mum," Hermione snapped, but it was all in jest.
"That's because I told you that you smelled like old books and naptime," Elizabeth snickered. Hermione glared at her friend murderously, but no one bought it. "Where's Dad?"
"He ran out to pick up some dinner," Helen answered.
"Speaking of dinner... Hurry up and change, 'Mione, I'm starving." Elizabeth began to physically push her friend out the door. "Go on, get!"
"All right, all right, I'm going."
"So what exactly does naptime smell like?" Helen looked at Elizabeth, puzzled.
"I don't know exactly, I was just poking fun. Hermione fell asleep at work today, can you believe that?" From the look on Helen's face, it was obvious that she could. "Is everything okay, Mrs. Granger?"
"Helen, dear, please. I'm sure everything's fine, it's just that she's been so tired lately. She's been going to bed earlier and getting up later; she didn't even sleep this much when she was a teenager! I wonder if she's coming down with something."
"I'm fine, Mum, I told you." Neither woman had heard Hermione re-enter the room. "I've just been sleepy, that's all."
"You haven't had much of an appetite either, dear. I do notice, you know."
"Mum, believe me, I'm fine. So maybe I'm fighting a bug or something, but I'm fine. Please don't worry about me, okay? And anyway, I've got quite the appetite now, so we need to go find food."
"Agreed!" cheered Elizabeth just as her stomach began to rumble.
Hermione crossed the kitchen and leaned down to kiss her mother's forehead. "I'll be home in a few hours. Please Mum, don't worry about me. I'm good, promise."
Helen grazed her fingers over her daughter's hand and smiled softly, although it didn't reach her eyes. "Okay, sweetie. You call me if you get too tired to drive, okay?"
"Mum, seriously." Hermione rolled her eyes as she grabbed her keys. "I'll see you in a while."
They were almost out the door when Hermione saw the book lying on the entrance table. She grabbed it and handed it to her friend. "Wouldn't want to forget that!"
Elizabeth shook her head, her dark hair flying, red and newly-painted purple highlights flowing around her shoulders. "Oh my gosh, Hermione, thank you! He'd have killed me if I had forgotten it!"
"Who'd kill you?" Hermione asked, confused.
Elizabeth smiled, although it seemed forced. "My dad. He knows how much grandma looks forward to her books."
"Well I hope she likes it. I can't believe she's never read Pride and Prejudice! She'll love it. Every woman falls in love with Mr. Darcy."
Elizabeth grinned, a peculiar glint in her eye. "I'm sure she'll be thrilled. Now let's go. Food. Now. Anything but Chinese, I'll puke if I have to see you eat Mongolian Beef for the umpteenth time in a row."