A/N: I own nothing pertaining to Harry Potter and the wizarding world and earn nothing from writing this bit of fiction.

Thanks for reading!

Chapter 10 - Getting Ideas

Students begin making plans for the holidays and Draco begins concocting his own.

7 November 1998

It had been more than a week since the Hallowe'en party and Hermione was grateful that it seemed that nothing had really changed. She'd had a meeting several days ago with Professor Snape and it was more of the same, though she noticed that the cauldron she'd given him had made it onto his desk. She was touched that he would even keep it, but also wise enough to say nothing about it. Their meeting had led to nothing of consequence as she had yet to make up her mind about a career path and her course load made her busy enough that she didn't have much time to do anything besides homework or an occasional evening in the Gryffindor Common Room to visit with her friends there. He gave her a mid-February deadline to make some sort of real decision and promptly turned her out of his office.

She had also made it through the third meeting of Dueling Club without embarrassing herself further. Professor Martinez was back and had decided that the more advanced students should spend some time with the younger ones to not only improve their own techniques, but also learn something of how to teach someone else.

Today, however, was a day in Hogsmeade and some of the girls had been discussing Christmas gifts for their parents and significant others. Hermione opted to pass part of her afternoon in Tomes and Scrolls, fingers drifting along the spines of various books that caught her fancy as she mumbled to herself. She was engrossed in perusing an illustrated copy of "Runes of Our Past" that featured several standing stones recently revealed to have been inscribed with curious runes when someone whispered in her ear, "Have you ever been to see the ones in Avebury?" She nearly jumped out of her skin, her shock turning to annoyance when she turned toward the voice.

"It's rude to read over someone's shoulder uninvited, Malfoy."

"I merely wondered how long it would take you to notice."

Hermione grimaced. "How long were you there?"

"At least five minutes."

What Draco didn't mention is that he had been noticing more about her than just the book she was reading: the way her curls were poking out of her scarf just so, the scent of warm vanilla that made him think of freshly baked biscuits in winter, the way she leaned over the book as if expecting to be literally drawn into it. He'd memorised it all.

"To answer your question, I haven't."

"Ah. Well, perhaps you should sometime."

She gave a disappointed shrug – was she expecting something else from him? – and put the book back on the shelf.

"I'm to meet Ginny for a Butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks."

The two of them stood there awkwardly. She didn't know if she should invite him and he wasn't certain he should invite himself along. He took the Slytherin way out.

"Right, I'm headed there as well. I told Blaise I'd be by."

"Yeah alright," she nodded and picked up her bag.

The two of them walked out of the shop and down the street together, neither one certain of what to say and so said nothing. When they arrived, he opened the door for her, but then headed straight to the bar to find his friend, not even giving her a second glance.

"You came in with Granger," remarked Blaise while the two of them settled into a table at the back corner.

"Pure chance," replied Draco. "Said she was coming to have a drink with the Girl Weasley." The two girls were, in fact, sitting near the front with a few other younger students that neither wizard recognised.

"Sure." Blaise was completely unconvinced, but it wasn't worth calling him on it just yet. "So are you going home for the Christmas hols?"

"I'm sure that Mother expects me to."

"But you'd rather not."

"Not really, but she can't go anywhere until June and she's been sending owls every week. She's not even allowed to go see Father and he won't be home until at least Spring. How's your mother?"

"She's in Luxembourg, mate. She offered to pay for a portkey for me, but I decided I'd give it a miss." His eyes drifted to Hermione's table. "What's Granger doing?"

"How should I know?" Draco snipped.

"Calm down, Drake. I knew you'd become friends, so I thought maybe you'd talked about it." Blaise held back a laugh at how prickly his friend got whenever he brought up a certain witch.

"Well, we haven't."

"I heard some talk." Blaise lowered his voice. "About her family."

Draco schooled the concern from his features as he nodded. "Yeah, Weaselette told me."

"We're all fucked over, aren't we?"

"Maybe Mother would let me stay at Hogwarts. You could come up to the castle, couldn't you?"

"I suppose I could owl McGonagall about it. Maybe she'd make some allowances."

"You could help me do a little research."

"On?"

"Family magic."

"You haven't enlisted the help of your favourite Gryffindor?"

"Shut it, Zabini."

"It was merely a suggestion. The girl thrives on research. And… you know… it could give her something to do over the hols."

"I'll think about it. I have to owl Mother first anyway. I'll let you know what she says, mate."

"The girls are leaving."

"And?"

"Go talk to her, Draco."

"No need, we have a study session tomorrow."

Blaise waggled his eyebrows and Draco responded with a glare.

"We. Study. That's all."

"Of course."

"Have you seen the witch study?"

"I never really paid attention to her. Not like you."

Draco kicked him beneath the table.

"Fuck's sake, Draco. You know I'm just taking the piss. I'm going to have to call off work tonight now."

Draco snorted. "Maybe Rosmerta can give you a little leg massage."

"I'd sooner ask to lick the dishes clean. She's lovely to look at, but it's best she doesn't catch me at it or she'll shove my wand up my arse and then her boyfriend will hex me for good measure."

"Boyfriend?"

"Oh, he works at Spintwitches."

"That big bloke?"

"Yeah." Blaise shuddered. "I dunno who's scarier though, him or her."

"Right, best you not ask for that massage then."

"Maybe Granger can come do it."

Draco kicked him again.

"Fuck, ok ok. I'll stop."

Draco rose from him stool. "I'll send you an owl."

"Alright, mate. If it doesn't work out, don't worry. Ok?"

"Yeah. I'll see what I can do."

Draco left just several minutes behind the girls and kept to the back of the group of students as they all headed back to the castle. He hadn't thought about Christmas just yet, but it was true that the holidays were fast approaching. He'd been afraid to even ask Hermione what she would do. He assumed she'd go to Potter's or maybe see the Weasleys. But maybe Blaise was onto something. There's no reason why the three of them couldn't do something different this year. But first he needed to work things out with his mother.

That evening after dinner he penned a decently long letter to Narcissa, letting her know that he'd seen Blaise that day and cautiously asking what she was planning for Christmas seeing as how she can't go anywhere and she wouldn't be hosting any large parties. His mind kept drifting back to the fact that Hermione wouldn't be spending the holidays with either of her parents and while she'd forgiven him for their awful past, he still felt somewhat responsible. He decided to mention a small something to the effect without telling exactly what happened to her parents. Maybe his mother would have some idea.

He hurried to get it sent before curfew. He wasn't sure why he was in such a rush over it as Christmas was still several weeks away, but for some reason he felt pressed to make plans as soon as possible. Did he want to invite Hermione to spend the holiday at Hogwarts doing research and otherwise loafing about the castle? What about Blaise? It was rather uncomfortable the way his friend kept needling him about her, but there was a ring of truth to it which he didn't bother outright denying.

Severus Snape was grateful that he hadn't been needed to chaperone the most recent visit to Hogsmeade. It had been a long week and Minerva had been badgering him about one too many things, one of which was her favourite pupil, Miss Granger. But now that he'd met with her again, he could submit yet another slip of parchment that said the girl simply refused to make up her mind. He didn't see how that was supposed to be his fault.

He'd spent his Saturday collecting some ingredients from the Forbidden Forest. Alone. It gave him time to think as he traipsed through the undergrowth, satchel slung over his shoulder bandolier-style containing jars of various sizes . He carefully collected several plants for Pomona, sure to get the entire root system, and took clippings of certain toxic weeds for his own work. He harvested spider eggs which he promptly froze, gathered bits of neglected bird nests, caught tiny blue lizards which would do nicely for an upcoming class, all the while wading through his latest interview with the illustrious Miss Granger.

"I'm having such a difficult time deciding, Professor," she sighed. "Isn't there anything you'd recommend? Surely there's something that I hadn't considered as a career path?"

"Not likely. Miss Granger, you're well aware that you'll be fine in whatever it is you put your mind to, as I've already told you before. We're meeting today because the Headmistress is most eager that you come to a decision."

"I– No, I really have no idea."

"Then I shall have to impose a deadline, Miss Granger. We can't have you derailing your future over bout of indecisiveness. You have until mid-February. Have I made myself clear?"

"Of course, sir. I'm terribly sorry. I'll do better for next time."

As he rethought her behaviour, it was true that he'd never seen her so unsure of herself. Had something else happened in that past year to account for it? Apparently she'd spent months getting up the courage to present him a get well gift and when she'd noticed that it was on his desk she said nothing about it. He was sure she'd make some little remark and was somewhat relieved that she didn't. He chalked it all up to the fact that now that the war was over, she was well and truly left to live her own life. What she ultimately did with it was none of his concern. Except, of course, Minerva McGonagall most certainly did not agree. Bloody Gryffindors.

8 November 1998

"So how is Blaise?" Hermione inquired, trying to find something to talk about besides Arithmancy and Charms. She and Draco had been cooped up at one of the library tables for over an hour already and the end of her homework was still not in sight.

"Yeah, he's fine. Said his mum is Luxembourg now."

"So it's true then. He's more or less on his own."

"Mmm, it's why he took the job with Rosmerta."

"Talk about anything interesting?"

"Only that Rosmerta is dating that bloke from Spintwiches."

"Good for her!"

"And we were trying to figure out what to do over Christmas hols."

"Ah." She bent closer to her parchment as she squeezed back the tears that threatened to spill at that one word.

"Blaise'll be on his own, too. And I dunno what Mother is going to get up to as she can't leave the manor and Father won't be released until Spring, but I owled her last night." He paused as he worked through a calculation in his head. "I've thought about asking if I could stay here and see if Blaise could join me."

"Oh but your poor mum!"

He thought it was rather endearing of her to be concerned. He quite frankly still couldn't understand the depths of her forgiveness.

"I dunno what she'll say, but… have you made any plans just yet?"

"No… Ginny has already invited me to see her family, but I don't fancy the idea of spending the entire time at their house. I suppose I ought to talk with McGonagall about maybe coming back early. I could hardly impose on Harry. He's going to want to spend time with Ginny and…" Her nose wrinkled up. It was rather cute.

It was at that moment that Draco had a idea. A terrible idea, perhaps, but… he hadn't been teasing her about Avebury the day before. Not really. It wasn't far from the Manor, but would she possibly be interested in spending part of her holiday in Wiltshire? The very idea of asking her frightened the daylights out of him. It would solve the issue of his mother and Blaise, almost too neatly. He pulled out a piece of parchment and began scrawling yet another hasty note to his mother. He wished he hadn't written last night without thinking things through.

Hermione looked over at what he was doing.

"Taking a break already?"

"I just need to get this sent off. I'll be back and we can go over our answered for these equations?"

"Yeah, ok. I'll take a walk around the library to stretch."

When he returned twenty minutes later, he was concerned when he found their things still on the table where they'd been working, but no Hermione. That was when he overheard heated whispers from the other side of the bookcase.

"I dunno, Gin. I'll come by for a day or two, but…"

"Mum'll be crushed."

"I'm sorry. I know it's hard, but… it's Christmas and I'd hoped…"

"You hoped that you'd be with your parents," her friend finished softly.

"Yeah…"

"Did you ask Flitwick?"

"I did, but… he's afraid I might have to just let them go."

"Too bad that Lockhart turned out to be a prick. He was good at memory charms."

Hermione snorted.

"Doubt he knew how to undo them, though."

"True."

"Look, I'll think about it. That's really kind of you and Harry's offered, too, but… I'll have to let you know."

Draco hurriedly moved away from the books and sat down again at the table, acting as though he'd been at work and heard nothing.

Hermione rounded the corner moments later, eyes red and puffy.

"What's the matter, one too many dusty books today?"

Hermione gave him a feeble smile.

"Something like that."

He let it slide, knowing that it wasn't the moment to pry. He'd overheard everything anyway.

"So what did you get for question 12?"

14 November 1998

It was another day for Quidditch and Hufflepuff and Slytherin were both chomping at the bit for another win. The weather was fair for November: cool, clear, and only a slight wind. Draco had pulled on something suitable in his former house colours and was on his way to the stadium.

His thoughts drifted back to the day before when he'd received an owl from his mum which he'd tucked away into his robes to read later. It was only when he was back in his room that he finally unsealed the letter to read it:

Dearest Son,

It does my heart good to hear that your studies are going well. I'd heard rumours of your association with Miss Granger, but I refused to believe anything until I heard about it from you. I'd advise you to tread carefully as the papers are waiting for you to do something "dark" and as it is Miss Granger is commented on constantly whether there is anything to actually tell or not. All it would take is for someone to misconstrue something and you could say goodbye to your future.

I am doing well in spite of being confined to the Manor. I've never been so thankful for the gardens and the many rooms. I've taken to redecorating the entire place room by room so that the next time we entertain our guests will be unable to find a single reminder of the things that have taken place here. It's done wonders for my own morale and I hope that you will find it much more welcoming. In case you're wondering, my schemes did not include your own room.

Your aunt Andromeda has been rather magnanimous in spite of our poor treatment of her over these years and has recently taken to coming here once a week to keep me company. She's also been good enough to go see your father last week (how she could still be so kind is beyond my reckoning). She reports that he's not as bad as last time as conditions have vastly improved and he only has until April before he will get to come home. You ought to consider writing him a letter, you know.

I would be glad to welcome Mr. Zabini for Christmas. With regards to Miss Granger, use your best judgement. I should not take offence if she decides that she would rather not be anywhere near our home. Please do let me know how many of you I should be expecting so that the rooms will be ready.

your loving Mother

His heart was in his throat as he read and reread the missive that evening and once more just before breakfast. There was no mention of censure or otherwise harsh words regarding Hermione. He was allowed to invite her. He knew that his mother had a good point, however, and he'd need to be prepared to accept the fact that perhaps she'd rather be anywhere else on the planet than the Manor.

He cursed his cowardice for not asking Hermione that morning if she'd be at the match and, if so, which side she'd be sitting with.

As his luck would have it, when he took his seat in the stands, he spotted Hermione firmly ensconced in a throng of Gryffindors who were shouting encouraging words at the Hufflepuff players warming up for the match. He was slightly cheered by the fact that she looked like she'd rather be studying. The match began soon after and Draco found himself swept along by the strong playing by both teams, culminating in an abrupt win about an hour and a half into the game when the Slytherin seeker, a third year by the name of Basel, caught the snitch just before he nearly crashed into a goalpost. The Slytherin side erupted in cheers and Draco cast a glance over to see that Hermione was no longer there.

Hermione wasn't sure what did it. Was it the roar of her fellow Gryffindors? Was it the chill in the air? Was it the familiarity of a quidditch match? Whatever the cause was, she found herself making excuses to her friends partway through the game and needing to take some air. Alone.

She'd never thought she'd become so emotionally crippled, but she also never imagined spending her adolescent years fighting a war, either. That afternoon she opted to wander the corridors rather than the grounds, melancholy leading her to a place she hadn't yet dared to approach that year: the seventh floor corridor. The tapestry of Barnabas the barmy was still there, though one of the corners appeared to have been singed. She cringed at the memory: heat, screams, and desperation. More flashbacks were not what she needed. She needed a calming place. And then, a door appeared.

She gingerly touched the knob, half expecting it to burn her. It was cool. She twisted it and pushed the door. Somehow the magic of the castle had done it again: the room was a wide, airy space, lit by warm sunlight. In the center was a sunken area lined with low couches and she could hear the sound of running water. She entered and closed the door behind her. The room was warm and she removed her cloak and scarf, hanging it on a peg just inside, as if the room had anticipated that, too. As she walked toward the couches, she saw that just beyond was a fountain that was at least the size of her bureau, the stacked stones worn smooth from the running water. She slipped off her shoes and socks and stepped down, eager to lie down on the couch and listen to the gentle sound from the fountain. The tile was warm on her bare feet. With a great sigh, she laid back and her eye was caught by the curious ceiling. Enchanted ceilings and windows were nothing new at Hogwarts, but she'd yet to see a fresco that seemed completely alive. The painted clouds drifted lazily while birds flew overhead and she could almost hear the occasional flapping of wings.

"Thank you," she whispered to no one in particular. Perhaps she felt as though she could address the Room itself. Or maybe the castle was listening. Regardless, she lay there silently until she fell asleep, at last in a safe space, free from the past.

She arrived late to dinner, nearly missing it altogether. Draco was still there, as were Mandy and Terry.

"You missed the end of the match," Draco commented as she sat down across from him. He'd noticed her absence? She flushed slightly at the idea.

"I needed to talk a walk."

"Sure," he said kindly.

"And then I fell asleep," she hurriedly added. "I mean, I took a nap."

He gave her a curious look, but didn't press.

"So what happened? Who won?"

"Slytherin, of course," Draco smirked. "Their new seeker is good. Nearly smashed into a goal post catching the Snitch, but it was really well done."

"I'm sure you're pleased."

"It was nice to see a good match. For a while there, I was nervous that Hufflepuff was going to win."

"Well, that wouldn't do, would it?" she chuckled.

"Of course not!" He paused and watched as Mandy and Terry left the table. He leaned forward. "You ok, Granger?"

"Yeah, fine," she said quietly before tucking into her roast chicken and potatoes.

"Hey, so…" He swallowed nervously. "I live close to the Avebury henge, you know. I don't know if you made any plans for the holidays, but, uh, Blaise will be with me and we wondered if you want to come by for a few days and… we could go to Avebury?"

Hermione froze.

"It's alright if you don't. I can understand. By my mother said…"

"You talked to your mother about this?" she asked quietly, slowly resuming her meal.

"Yeah. I hope that's not too weird."

"Is there anything not weird about this?"

He gave an awkward laugh. Just then Professor Snape was walking past them as he was exiting the room. He paused and fixed his dark stare on Draco.

"A word, Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco looked from to Hermione.

"It will only be a moment," Snape drawled.

"Of course, sir." He rose and followed the grim man through the heavy doors.

"What is it, Professor?"

"Your mother wrote me. Am I to understand that you're inviting Miss Granger to stay over the holiday?"

"I was… in the process of it."

His eyebrow quirked in understanding. "Let me give you some advice then. You need to tell your father about it. And don't do anything that might cause Miss Granger to be incapable of finishing her studies."

"Why would I do that?"

"Don't be thick, Draco," he hissed, lowing his voice to a whisper. "She's obviously not doing well. Don't push her too far."

His mother's own words came back to him. 'With regards to Miss Granger, use your own best judgment.' So should he now un-invite her? That seemed even worse.

"Right, I'll, er, I'll be careful." He shifted awkwardly.

His godfather gave him a small nod. "Good. You may return to your dinner."

When Draco slid back into his place, Hermione was still picking at her plate.

"Alright?"

"Yeah, Snape was getting on me since I haven't written my father," he half-lied.

"Ah."

"Anyway, my mother said she's been redoing the house, so that it… well, it's not the same as before. She just would like to know how many guest rooms to have ready. I don't need to let her know just yet, though."

"You said Blaise is coming?"

"Yeah, he didn't fancy traveling too far."

"I'll think about it. I'm supposed to go to Ginny's, but I don't think I could stay there too long."

"It was only an idea. I won't be offended if you say no." He sounded a bit disappointed.

Hermione's mouth curled into a small smile. "Liar."

"Ok, I will be slightly hurt."

"Better."

"Does that mean you're going to come?" He tried to keep the hopefulness out of his voice.

"I'll consider it."

"For Avebury, of course," he teased.

"Right, purely academic research."

"Will Blaise mind terribly?"

"If he does, we'll send him off with Theo. Merlin knows where he'll be spending the holiday."

Realisation dawned on Hermione as she remembered that Theo's father had also been sent to Azkaban.

"I'll bet you 5 sugar quills that he goes to the Greengrass's."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You're on."

A/N: Thanks for your patience! Work has gotten busier (recently had an all day meeting 3 hours away, more long meetings to come) and I may have also squeezed in the time to work on some other stories, including a Snamione for SSHG Spooktober Fest 2020 on AO3 - it's called "Routine" if you want to give it a read. Just a warning though, it has a firm E rating for a reason. As always, check the tags if you want to be sure if it's for you.

Next chapter of Bes(w)otted will be posted Oct 17