Chapter 11 – Just A Spark
A/N: A quick thank you to the lovely folks that keep encouraging my journey forward in this story! Y'all make me so happy! I've finally got the full plotline sorted out and let's just say I hope y'all are in it for the long haul because I've got a whopping 33 chapters planned out (plus an epilogue). I will continue to release a chapter every week on Wednesdays, but if I get an extra burst of writer's energy then I'll attempt biweekly updates (no promises though). I originally had no intention of letting it get this lengthy but hey, art brain does what art brain wants. Last, but certainly not least, LET THE SLOW BURN COMMENCE (evil laugh). - delphicpigeon
They both fell into a quiet, but separate, routine over the following week. Neither spoke nor acknowledged the rather intense discussion that had happened the day of their arrival at the cottage. Hermione had taken to restoring the cottage to a livable condition, which turned out to be wonderfully cozy. Malfoy quickly ousted himself as useless in regards to cleaning, citing house elves as his reason. Hermione had merely scoffed at him and continued her efforts as he watched from the armchair. She repaired the furniture, cleared away the cobwebs and soot from her magical outburst, and other various tasks to make the place more habitable for a month-long stay. The stone fireplace was large and did a wonderful job of keeping the cold at bay. A quick search of the kitchen had revealed a fully stocked pantry, complete with many jars of sauces, spices, pastas, and more. She had even found a large tin labeled 'Seeds' and wondered if a small garden was hidden under the thick layer of snow that blanketed the grounds. The cottage had no electricity but was well-equipped with candles, lanterns, oil lamps, and of course, magic. Despite his lack of cleaning abilities, Malfoy had proven useful in other areas. He had offered to collect firewood from the surrounding forest while also strengthening the wards around them. He had argued with her intensely regarding the wards, stating that his familiarity with the Dark Lord and the Snatchers would allow him to lay protections the Order wouldn't necessarily think to use. Hermione had balked at his reasoning but conceded, nonetheless. The most surprising thing had been his ability to hunt. Hermione would have never guessed that Malfoy would have the knowledge and skillset to set traps, hunt game, and properly process the meat. The previous evening, she had been preparing some broth for a stew when Malfoy had shoved the door open and placed a brown hare on the table. She had stared down at the small form before lifting her gaze to his face.
"Where did you get that?" she asked, bewildered.
"Caught it in the woods." He shrugged, as if commenting on the weather.
"I gathered that," she snapped, "I mean, how did YOU get that?" she gestured to his chest with a wooden spoon.
"Like I said, I caught it." He sighed, obviously irritated by her line of questioning, "Is that so hard to believe Granger?"
"You know how to hunt?" she asked, surprised, "I figured you would be too posh to get blood on your clothes or some other equally ridiculous reason like that."
Malfoy shot her a look of contempt.
"We have hunts every season." He explained, "Its tradition at the Manor."
Hermione snorted.
"Merlin, you really are from another time." She mocked, "Let me guess. You also hold masked balls full of hoop skirts and coattails, ride in horse drawn carriages, and tip your hats to each other in the streets."
Malfoy only glared in response, which caused Hermione is burst into laughter. He waited for her laughs to die down before responding.
"Are you quite finished?" He replied nastily, "For someone constantly spouting nonsense about equality between Purebloods and Muggleborns, you sure are incredibly judgmental regarding my way of life. Or do you only find it ridiculous because you've never experienced it?"
Hermione's jaw dropped and a wave of guilt washed over her. She simply blinked at Malfoy, who had crossed his arms and scowled in annoyance.
"I hope you know how to properly cook wild game." He spat before turning around and marching angrily to the bathroom. Hermione had turned back to the simmering stew, her face burning in embarrassment.
Malfoy had begrudgingly offered her the upstairs bedroom, muttering under his breath about 'blasted manners'. She had thought to turn down the offer, but a frosty glare from Malfoy had silenced her. She had to admit it was nice to have a full-sized bed rather than a cramped cot or couch. The bedroom was simple and lacking in any decor. A queen-sized bed on a solid wooden frame covered with a thick, downy comforter sat center and was flanked by two simple nightstands. Two large windows on either side let in soft morning light and a large wooden armoire sat in the corner opposite the bed. She eyed the armoire with disdain. Hermione had been surprised to find two trunks of clothing in her beaded bag. Mrs. Malfoy had apparently packed clothing for both her and Malfoy. Unfortunately, the clothes were far more traditional in style and Hermione had scrunched up her nose at the sheer amount of dresses and skirts contained in the trunk addressed to her. Today's outfit was a floor length dark blue wool dress with wide sleeves and a matching belt cinched around her waist. The wool was soft, warm, and fit perfectly. How Mrs. Malfoy had been able to tailor all the clothes to her size still baffled Hermione. It was one of the many unexpected surprises Narcissa Malfoy had apparently stowed in that bag.
But most importantly, she had stored a large collection of books as well. Malfoy had informed Hermione that his mother had discovered Hermione's true nature prior to their escape and had quickly packed away all manners of ancient texts from the Malfoy library for them to research. Hermione had been absolutely delighted, but her excitement quickly turned to despair when she discovered that the majority of the texts were relatively incomplete and in some nearly dead language. However, she was grateful for the distraction of attempting text translations if that meant avoiding major interaction with Malfoy for the entirety of their stay.
She had been particularly delighted in the discovery of the reading nook on the second level of the cottage. It had immediately become her favorite spot. The window was large and provided enough light that she could read in comfort and the seat cushion was surprisingly plush. She was also slightly relieved that Malfoy had chosen to avoid this location and essentially contained himself to the downstairs living area. However, that evening, the weather had turned nasty and the upstairs study quickly became too cold to remain in. Large, fat droplets of rain pounded against the windows and the wind howled through the trees. No doubt a small blizzard would develop in the night. Hermione sighed, closed her book, and walked towards the staircase. She descended quietly to find Malfoy at the large kitchen table hunched over a worn looking text, the fire blazing brightly and a look of intense concentration on his face. He didn't even look up as she reached the bottom of the stairs. Hermione took advantage of the distraction to observe Malfoy. His eyes were rapidly devouring whatever words were laid before him. She wondered what story would have him so engrossed? The firelight danced across his pale face and Hermione was taken aback by how handsome he was. His pointed features from boyhood had smoothed out and the shadows carved out high cheekbones, full lips, and gracefully arched eyebrows. She followed the edge of his jawline where a shadow of stubble had developed. This surprised Hermione as she didn't think Malfoy was capable of growing facial hair. She was even more dismayed to find that she liked how it looked.
Get ahold of yourself Hermione!
She quickly flicked her eyes up to Malfoy's face to check that he hadn't noticed her yet. He moved to turn the page and Hermione held her breath, terrified she had been caught. Fortunately, he settled back and continued reading. She released a breath, her heart slamming across her ribcage. Her eyes slid down to the junction of his throat and chest, where his crisp white shirt was slightly unbuttoned revealing a small expanse of fair skin. A faded, purple scar peeked out from just below his collarbone.
Goodness, his skin looked incredibly smooth and…WHY THE HELL WAS SHE OGLING DRACO SODDING MALFOY? This must be a side effect of the attempted binding, she reasoned with herself. Yes, that had to be it because the other option was absolutely ridiculous.
"Are you going to stand there all night and stare Granger?" a voice cut through her internal argument.
Sweet Merlin! Had he known she was there the entire time?! Hermione would had given her left hand if it meant the floor would open up and swallow her. She gave a small shriek and attempted to fly back up the stairs if only to get away from this hideously awkward situation when she tripped on the hem of her blasted dress and went crashing to the ground. Her book went skidding across the floor and pain shot up her knees as they took the brunt of the fall. Hermione was absolutely mortified. Was it possible to die of embarrassment, she wondered hotly, because she would very much prefer being dead to this! She had just bloody fallen to the ground in front of Draco bloody Malfoy! This was not happening!
A burst of laughter rang out, clear and warm. She groaned and cracked open her eyes to find Malfoy standing above her, amusement glittering in his silvery eyes.
"I knew I was devastatingly handsome," he teased, laughter still falling from his lips, "But I didn't know it would cause you to fall over in shock."
Hermione frowned and glared up at him with all the indignation she could muster.
"You absolute narcissist." She snapped, "I was merely trying to figure out what book could be so fascinating to you."
"You are a terrible liar." He mocked, "Now are you planning on staying on the floor all night? If so, I'll be taking advantage of the bed."
"Prat." She ground out and slowly stood upright, wincing at the pain in her knees.
Malfoy walked over and picked up the book she had dropped, turning it over in his hands.
"Didn't take you for a romantic." He stated, an eyebrow curving inquisitively, "Pride and Prejudice eh?"
Hermione snatched the book from his grasp and huffed.
"I'll have you know it's a favorite of mine." She paused, disbelief creeping into her voice, "You are familiar with it?"
Malfoy rolled his eyes.
"I may be a Pureblood, but I am still familiar with all the classics. Muggles authors included." He drawled.
"Oh." She mumbled, dropping awkwardly onto the couch.
Malfoy seated himself across from her, his mysterious book laid on his lap. She peeked at him from under her lashes and was annoyed to find him watching her with an inquisitive look. She felt her face flush under his bold gaze, but she refused to budge from the couch. She wasn't going to let him win that easy. Gryffindors were courageous and bold. She tucked her feet under her dress and cleared her throat.
"So, are you going to tell me what you were reading?" she urged, eager to take the focus off herself.
Malfoy chuckled lightly, the sound soft and pleasant. Hermione narrowed her amber eyes at him. Why was his laugh exceptionally charming? Nobody just naturally laughs like that.
Damn him.
Rain continued to pound against the windows while Hermione waited for Malfoy to respond. She was grateful for the patter of the rain and crackle of the fire to stave off the growing silence between them. Malfoy flicked his eyes to hers and realizing she was refusing to move off the subject, released an exasperated sigh.
"I'm reading Alice's Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll." He finally admitted while his eyes bored into hers, challenging and defiant.
Hermione was genuinely surprised. The Slytherin Prince, Draco Malfoy, was reading a nonsensical Muggle fairy tale. She was expecting him to say something more logical and in depth such as Dumas or Orwell if he was indeed familiar with classical Muggle authors. Alice in Wonderland with her acid tales of rabbits in waistcoats, smoking caterpillars, and the infamous Red Queen was definitely not what she expected. A small smile tugged on her lips as Malfoy released the tense posture he had been holding.
"Definitely not what I was expecting." She admitted, "Why did you choose that particular story?"
"My mother used to read it to me when I was a child." He sighed, a faraway look briefly crossing over his face before settling back into his usual haughty expression, "It appears it is all I have left of her and its one of very few pleasant childhood memories."
"Ah." Hermione replied, "Pride and Prejudice was a favorite of my mother's as well. When things got overwhelming, I always knew I could lose myself in the chaos of the Bennett household for an hour or two."
She gave him an awkward smile and his face softened a small degree. He looked down at the worn cover and ran a long finger down the spine in a tender gesture. His shoulders slumped a little and a small, defeated sigh left his mouth.
"Books became my escape, both in childhood and later in life." He confessed, "I used to hide in the library at Hogwarts to escape dear Pansy's affections. She absolutely disdains books. Crabbe and Goyle were too idiotic to comprehend books, so they stayed away as well. It was the only place I felt like I could breathe. Not even your dear Chosen One or that red-headed git would bother me there." He finished with a smirk.
Hermione quickly brought her hand to her mouth to stifle a giggle that threatened to fall from her lips. The comical image of Malfoy attempting to hide from Pansy Parkinson among the dusty old books of Hogwarts was hilarious, especially when she thought of Crabbe and Goyle bumbling around outside like Tweedledee and Tweedledum.
"What's so funny Granger?" Malfoy demanded.
Another giggle bubbled up and Malfoy's frown deepened.
"Oh, don't look at me like that." She countered, "It's just the thought of you ducking behind a pile of books to avoid Parkinson and since you mentioned Lewis Carroll, I was picturing Crabbe and Goyle dressed as the Tweedle twins and wandering around unable to find the entrance to the library."
Malfoy gave her an odd look and she felt her amusement diminish. She quickly turned her attention to the fire, wondering if she had crossed some line by making fun of his fellow Slytherins. She nearly jumped out of her skin when Malfoy released a deep and loud guffaw. She whipped her head in his direction, utterly mystified. His mouth was open wide in a toothy grin and a slight flush was creeping across his pale cheeks. Hermione sat still in shock, watching Malfoy's body shake with laughs. Yet, it wasn't his laugh that had completely captured her attention. It dawned on Hermione that she had never heard Malfoy truly laugh or genuinely – entirely lacking in scorn or malice. His smile was radiant, full of perfect teeth that would have made her parents swoon in dental envy. Without his signature scowl, Malfoy was transformed. His steel gray eyes shone like quicksilver, his lips curved in an inviting manner, and his face took on an almost mischievous, boyish look. She inhaled sharply as Malfoy's laughs softened.
"Bloody hell Granger." He wheezed out with a final snort of amusement, "I knew you were clever, but that was downright ruthless. Did you know that those two goons constantly forgot where the entrance to the Slytherin common room was and would wander for hours right in front of it until someone fetched them?"
"I-I did not." she stammered out, stunned at this carefree version of Malfoy.
Hermione continued to stare Malfoy down, wearing a mixture of curiosity and uncertainty. Malfoy cocked his head to the side, his smile falling slightly. Hermione felt her breath catch as their eyes connected. Something dark flashed across his eyes but it was immediately extinguished. She felt exposed and began to squirm. Her movements broke the moment and Malfoy tore his gaze from hers. He coughed and reclined back, apparently determining it was an egregious error to be so casual with her.
"Well yes…" He sniffed, a ripple of sadness just under his skin, "That was a long time ago."
Hermione frowned. He had been so vibrant just a moment ago and her reaction had snuffed it out. She found herself wanting to see that side of him again. Thinking quickly, she turned the conversation back to their books.
"Tell me your favorite part." She commanded.
Malfoy twitched and slowly met her eyes again, a flicker of hope sparking in his eyes.
"Of my book?" he asked, a cautious tone laced with his question.
"Yes, apparently I have a morbid curiosity of whether we share a favorite section of this story," she smirked in response, "And even if it's not, I'd still like to discuss it with you. There hasn't been much opportunity for me to discuss literary works with anyone, especially Muggle pieces."
She folded her hands in her laps expectantly, hoping Malfoy would take the bait. With a carefully blank expression, he rose from the armchair and silently padded towards the kitchen. Hermione deflated at his complete rejection of her attempt at conversation. She dropped her head and her shoulders slumped forward, defeated.
Well, at least she had tried.
"Calm down Granger." He called from the kitchen, "I'm fixing us a quick pot of tea. Because…"
He walked back to where Hermione was seated and set down a tray containing two cups and a pot of steaming tea. He threw another log on the fire and sat back down opposite her.
"I have a feeling we'll both have many things to say."