Hi all! You might have noticed that I changed my username. I got some trolly messages on my personal socials and it weirded me out.
Chapter 33 – Making Plans
Friday, March 26
Hermione
An owl landed in front of Hermione as she was spreading honey onto her muffin. When she jerked to put it down, the spoon stuck to her hand.
Damn. She was almost 20 years old. How was it possible she was still so messy when it came to honey?
She knew where the letter was from. The owls always had the same maroon vest.
She frantically ripped open the letter to read it.
They were usually short and uninteresting, but Hermione would never take them for granted again.
Hermione,
I hope your classes are going well. I think you must be busy because you haven't written in a couple weeks.
The weather here is beautiful. My garden is coming along nicely. Narcissa was very kind to send some special fertilizer that increases the frequency of blooms and encourages them to keep blooming even during our mild winter. The wisteria is blooming again. I know it was always your favorite. The scent makes me feel like I'm close to you while I drink my coffee.
We're both enjoying the time off. We decided we'll go back in June. Retirement doesn't suit me and your father will just get himself into trouble. He's decided deep sea fishing is his newest calling. It's terribly expensive and you know I hate fish.
Your father is doing well. His memories are slowly coming back. Some days he remembers you, some days he doesn't. But the ones he doesn't are getting less frequent. Dr. Marcos says the progress is excellent. The spell he used to keep the memories of your magic is starting to fade. He's started having dreams – a huge red train, a bank guarded by creatures, the time you grew your eyebrows back, etc. Dr. Marcos said he couldn't recast the spell due to the other memory charm.
I think it's time for us to tell him. Dr. Marcos said it's probably only a matter of weeks before he starts remembering your magic while he's awake. It will likely cause him a fair amount of stress and confusion. It would be best to just rip the band aid off, so to speak. If you aren't able to come, I'll have to do it myself. I think you should be and the one to do it. I don't say that to punish you. I know it won't be easy.
Do you think you'd be able to come back, just for a day or two? I know how busy you are by this point in the semester.
Talk soon,
Mum
Hermione went to set down the letter, but it too had stuck to her hand. She ripped it off and it ripped through the paper. She tried not to let it make her any more upset than she already was.
She checked her schedule and wrote back immediately with the earliest date she thought she could get away. She penned another letter to Professor McGonagall, asking to help her arrange a week off and the portkeys.
She then abandoned her breakfast and fled outside to the courtyard where she could sit in the cool air.
Gasping for air, she hid behind a large pillar. The tears rolled down her face, think and steady.
She knew this was coming. Her mother had been begging her to come since mid-January. Hermione had resisted. She knew if she went back down there, she'd have lift Healer Marcos' memory spell and face what she'd done. Again.
She didn't think it would go well this time. Worse than with her mother. And that was a lot of fear to bear.
She decided to skip Charms. She would ask Professor Flitwick for a private lesson.
She took a meandering walk through the grounds and found herself at Hagrid's cabin. She knocked but didn't hear Fang's booming barks. Hagrid must be off in the forest somewhere.
She went over to investigate what he'd been planting recently.
Several of the bulbs looked as though they'd been Spellotaped together and appeared to be made of two different plants. She chucked and rolled her eyes. Hagrid would be Hagrid. The splicing looked very neat. She suspected Neville had helped him.
It was time to go to Transfiguration. She couldn't bring herself to trudge back up to the castle. She'd have to beg Professor McGonagall for a private lesson as well.
She wandered over to the edge of the forest and sat down against a stump that overlooked the lake.
She vaguely recalled it was near where they'd overlooked the Dementors trying to give Sirius the kiss third Year.
She tried to focus on the noises of the birds. They were animated today. She supposed they were excited it was spring as well.
Her stomach began to grumble. She hadn't eaten anything, and it was lunch time. She had no reason to go up to the castle anytime soon. She didn't have afternoon classes on Fridays and today was not one of her sessions with Mandy.
She thought beating herself up mentally probably didn't count as an effort to improve her mental well-being.
She heard someone approaching. It wasn't Hagrid. The steps were to light. Besides, if it was, Fang would already be licking her face.
"Granger."
She looked up. Draco was standing above her eyeing her cautiously. He'd changed out of his uniform.
"Hungry?" he held out a banana and a chocolate croissant. "They're Pansy's favorite. She's always happier after she eats them. Suppose they must be a miracle pastry."
Hermione snorted and took the food. A miracle indeed.
He sat down next to her, laying down and readjusting so that he wasn't in the sun.
"Oh, don't do that. You're going to get your absurdly expensing clothes all dirty."
He didn't open his eyes. "That's what Scourgify is for."
She scoffed. "That's hardly the same as dry cleaning."
He opened one eye and stared at her quizzically. "Dry cleaning?"
She shook her head. "A muggle cleaning method for expensive clothing. It uses chemicals."
He nodded and relaxed again.
"Want to talk about it?" he asked after a while.
"How'd you know where to find me?" she asked in response.
"Weasley. She said you come down here sometimes to think. I saw you run out during breakfast and you weren't in class."
Hermione just sat there silently.
Some far-off corner of her mind wondered if he'd sought out Ginny or if the reverse had happened.
She sighed. "I have to go back and see my parents. It's time to tell my dad… everything."
He didn't open his eyes. "I see."
She felt a pang of sharp relief. She hadn't wanted to tell Ginny. That's why she'd run off. Ginny would try to convince her that everything would be okay. She didn't want it to be okay. She didn't deserve for it to be okay.
After a while, her stomach grumbled again.
"Eat your food, Granger. You're going to wake up all the beasts in the forest."
She kicked him but started to eat.
After both the pastry and the banana, she started to feel better.
Draco was still laying down in the grass, with his hands behind his head, one knee crossed over the other.
She took a moment to stare at him. She never got the chance to. He always knew when someone was staring at him – like a sixth sense. She supposed she did as well. Just another reminder of the childhood they'd all lost too early.
He really was quite beautiful, in his own way. He sort of scared most people. Pale and glowing and almost angelic, but too angular and serious. Like a sculpture or a quick charcoal drawing. Nothing like the warm, round-faced celebrities and other guys she usually found herself attracted to. He was like one of those high fashion models. Sort of weird to look at until you became accustomed to it.
Maybe that was okay though. She kind of liked that he wasn't typically handsome. She didn't think she was typically beautiful either.
Most of the boyish swagger he'd carried that made the girls giggle and blush had disappeared. She wondered if it would ever come back. It had for Harry. She somehow doubted he'd ever allow himself that much forgiveness.
He was still too skinny. He was tall and better proportioned than Ron, but she didn't think he'd regained any of the weight he'd lost he'd lost since Sixth Year. But, then again, she hadn't really either.
No one had rested until Harry had recovered. And he'd hated the coddling as much as she knew Draco would.
It made her sad.
"See something you like, Granger?"
She rolled her eyes. "Just making sure the sun doesn't encroach on your space. I know you'd hate to lose your superpower of glowing in the dark."
He smirked and sat up. "Witches pay thousands of galleons for a completion like this."
She rolled her eyes again. "So…" she began drawing with her finger in the dirt. "Tomorrow."
He scooted closer to her. "Yes, tomorrow. Meet me in the entrance hall at 3."
"Okay." She tried to guess what he might have planned. "Should I wear anything… particular?"
He shook his head and gazed at her calmly. "What you normally wear is fine. Don't overthink it, Granger."
She nodded.
She heard a noise in the distance, far off to the left. She turned her head to see Draco still looking at her. He smiled like he had a secret.
"What?" she demanded.
"Did you enjoy your pastry?"
"Yes," she said.
"Hm," he said. "I've never really had a taste for chocolate before. Always preferred candy."
He reached forward and used his finger to wipe something off of her lip and then popped it in his mouth, licking off chocolate. "Maybe I'll have to see what all the fuss is about."
She blushed furiously.
How could he turn something so innocent into something so tawdry?
Suddenly, a huge dog came bounding up. Hagrid must be back. Hermione laughed as Fang licked her face and nuzzled her.
Draco and Fang eyed each other suspiciously before Fang bounded back off to Hagrid.
She hopped up and ran over to Hagrid, rejoicing in his warm tight hug. It was the closest she could get to a parental embrace.
"Hi there, Hermione!" Hagrid boomed. "What are yeh doin' down here?"
She blinked up at him quickly, trying to keep the tears out of her eyes. "Just wanted to go for a walk," she said.
Hagrid stared down at her. She felt her despair instantly start to melt as he stared down at her with his warm, kind eyes. He nodded. "Well, c'mon then. I'll put on some tea."
She looked back for Draco. He was standing a few feet behind her, face completely blank with caution.
"See you tomorrow, Granger," he said, turning back up to the castle.
Hermione watched him go, nervous excitement bubbling in her stomach.
When she turned around, she found herself being stared down by Hagrid.
"What?" she asked defensively.
He shook his head and retreated back into his cabin grumbling something about fools and warnings.
She turned back to catch one last glimpse of Draco. Even from far away, he caught her staring. She gave a little wave and he nodded before continuing up the path.
Saturday, March 27
Draco
"Is that what you're wearing?" Theo asked disapprovingly.
Draco glared up at him from the book he was reading.
"You know. For your date," Theo said, wagging his eyebrows.
Draco rolled his eyes. "How do you even know—"
Theo shrugged. "Your Saturday routine is completely thrown off. You usually go for your brooding walk on the grounds after practice and don't come back to shower until almost dinner. Plus, I overheard Ginny asking Hermione if she wanted help getting ready. I guessed."
Draco glared at Theo. "You need a hobby."
"I have to say, I'm offended you didn't confide in me. We could have gone over your conversation word for word and analyzed everything and squealed about it like a couple of First Years. Suppose that's a memory we'll never get back."
Draco cracked his neck.
"But seriously. You didn't want to try on outfits for me?" Theo leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, chin resting on his fists, and a pleading smile plastered on his stupid face.
Draco checked his watch. It was only 1:50. He didn't really want to head upstairs yet.
He continued to ignore Theo.
Theo sighed dramatically.
"I suppose there wouldn't be much to help with anyway..." Theo switched to what Draco thought was a very poor imitation of him. "Which plain white button down matches my hair best? The one with the ivory buttons or the off-white ones? And I just can't possibly choose between all of these identical black pants."
Okay, that was it.
Draco snapped his book shut and glared at him, standing up.
Theo smirked over at him.
Draco had had enough. He could surely find some quiet corner to read until it was time to meet Granger.
"Have fun, Draco."
Draco glared at him.
Theo stood up and made to walk past him. He put his hand on Draco's shoulder and muttered, "She's good for you. Don't fuck it up, mate."
Draco no longer had any desire to read.
He wandered around the dungeons, coming to Snape's old classroom. Draco pushed the door open and leaned against the cabinets in the back. He wondered what this year would have been like if Snape had survived. Draco smiled to himself. He would have hated all the attention he would have gotten for being a "hero." It would have been almost funny.
Some of the cabinets still had his old ingredient stores in them. Basic ingredients that were cheap or didn't expire that no one had bothered to transfer over to Slughorn's office. He traced the labels, reading the scrawny illegible labels. He sank to the floor, tossing one in the air.
He wondered vaguely what Snape would think of him now. What would he think about Granger? Had he really hated her as much as he'd seemed to or was it just part of the act? He supposed he'd never know. It's not like he could ask. There wasn't a live portrait of him in the Head's office – just a small stationary one he'd noticed the last time he'd visited McGonagall. The likeness wasn't great. He suspected someone had done it from memory. There hadn't ever many pictures of him in the Prophet. Portraits had to be made before the person died in order to come alive. He almost laughed at the idea of Snape posing for a portrait that year. While the war raged on and the Carrows terrorized the school.
Why hadn't Snape tried harder to get him and his mother out? He surely could have. He supposed it might have blown his cover. But if Dumbledore had suspected him from the beginning, couldn't he have just "caught" him? They could have faked his mother's death. Maybe a suicide or murder at his father's hand. No one would be surprised.
The more Granger let slip about the things she and Potter and Weasley had gotten into, he was increasingly shocked no one had thought it bordered on negligence. But it had all worked out in the end, he supposed. Potter had completed his mission just to die as Dumbledore had expected.
Why hadn't Snape and Dumbledore done more? Maybe they all could have been spared.
No, he'd never know.
He heard a soft knock on the door. He looked over. It was Granger. She gave him a small wave.
"What are you doing here?" He asked. His heart stopped momentarily, and he checked his watch. No, he wasn't late.
She shrugged. "If I'm being honest, I was getting a bit antsy. I figured I'd go for a walk and it just led me down here. I used to come study down here, especially towards finals. Most people were so afraid of Snape that there would be no one around. I saw you in here when I walked by. I thought maybe I'd just meet you and we could walk up together, wherever we're going."
She walked towards him, dragging her fingers along the desks. "Sometimes I forget how big the castle used to feel." She looked up at the ceiling. "It feels so different now."
She was right. Even in the low ceiling of the dungeons, the room seemed like a huge cavern.
"A lot of things seemed different before," he said quietly.
She nodded and held out her hand. "Shall we? Unless this was the plan all along."
He shook his head and got up
. . . . .
"You said you would buy me a meal," Granger said, with her hands on her hips.
"I made you this food basket!" He retorted, motioning towards it.
She rolled her eyes but picked out a mince pie.
"No, the house elves made the basket. You just had it delivered here."
"Well, if you don't want to eat, then don't complain when you get hungry," he said, leaning against one of the pillars.
"I never said I wouldn't eat it." She took a bite and sighed in contentment. "I just like giving you a hard time."
Draco stared at her. She seemed so calm. He'd expected her to be nervous and bumbling. He wasn't used to not being the confident one. He supposed he should get used to her exceeding his expectations.
She'd been calm all the way up to the Astronomy Tower. She hadn't pestered him with questions about what they were doing. She smiled with him sweetly and poked fun of him.
"Why did you bring me here?" she asked.
"It's one of my favorite places."
She cocked her head and studied him. "Really? That surprises me."
Her unspoken query hung in the air. Isn't this where you tried to murder Dumbledore? Where everything went so wrong? Where you revealed to the world that you really were the world's biggest prat?
"Hogsmeade would have been busy since it's a school weekend. Plus, I always liked it up here. I always liked astronomy. No matter what happens, the stars are always the same. We set our time and calendars to them. I suppose it's comforting. I like being up high. Everything looks peaceful when it's far away. I would have taken you flying but you said you don't like it."
She smiled at him. "I appreciate that. It absolutely terrifies me. Like roller coasters."
"Roller coasters?"
She looked over at him from where she was leaning over the railing, looking down at the grounds.
"They're a ride at theme parks." She scrunched up her face, trying to figure out how to explain it. "Uh, like the cars at Gringotts. But they don't feel like they're going to deteriorate at any moment. And they go way faster in big loops and hairpin turns and straight downward drops." She shuddered.
Draco thought he actually had pretty decent muggle knowledge, despite his parents never teaching him anything. Anything they needed, they could get from the magical world. If they couldn't get it from the magical world, they paid someone to. But, Hogwarts had been educational in more ways than one. Other students brought their books and trinkets. He'd been fascinated by the car magazines one of his house mates and passed around. Though Draco wasn't sure if he was intrigued by the cars or the half-naked women adorning the pages.
"That sounds… interesting. And mildly unsafe."
Granger snorted. "I'm sure you'd love it. I think it's similar to flying. Harry and I took Ron and Ginny over the summer and I could barely walk, my legs were like jelly. It was so awful."
"Are you scared of heights?" She was leaning quite far over the ledge to be afraid of heights.
"No, not particularly," she said, shaking her head. "It's all the damn swooping. The way your stomach feels like it's weightless. The adrenaline. No thanks."
Draco grinned. "You're right. I would love it."
"Well, if you want to go, you'll have to come when I go back with Harry, Ron, and Ginny. I doubt it's anything that would be fun to ride alone, and I refuse to spend another day on those infernal rides. If I took you alone, you'd try to convince me that this time will be the time I like it. Same with flying. Especially you Quidditch guys." She glared at him before continuing. "You all try to convince me that flying with you would be different. I just really don't think I'm going to change my mind. You know?"
Draco decided he would never try to convince her to go on one of these rolly coasters… or flying, he thought sadly. Flying was really fun. And romantic. But he didn't want to be like all the other guys.
"Well, if you don't like sports and muggle death contraptions, what do you like to do in your spare time?" He went to stand nearby her, looking over the railing.
"I suppose most of the things I do now. Obviously reading. They knew me by my name at the local library by the time I was 7. Over the summer, I'd go and volunteer. Mostly I restocked books, but sometimes they'd have me read during story hour. I'll help mum with the garden sometimes and my dad likes birdwatching." She looked over at him. "I guess I never really have had a lot of time for hobbies. You?"
He shrugged. "Reading. Quidditch. Tormenting Potter."
She giggled and shoved his shoulder.
They talked for hours. About her childhood and what it was like to find out she was a witch. About what it was like growing up in a magical family. About what they'd wanted to be when they grew up. He'd wanted to be the guard at the Ministry that checks everyone's wands. He got his revenge when she admitted she'd wanted to be a ballerina and he reminded her she was as graceful as Hagrid. About what foods they did and didn't like. She promised to buy him a funnel cake when they went to the amusement park. She'd been to so many more places than he had. If you didn't count the British Isles, he'd only been to France and Australia. Well, once to Russia when he was a baby, but he didn't think it counted if he couldn't remember. She was fascinated by what travel looked like to him. Posh hotels and fine dining. Shopping and spa treatments. Her father had gotten into an argument with a street vendor in Morrocco, negotiating over a rug. She loved spicy foods and he couldn't imagine eating anything off something called a "hot dog cart." She assured him it was the only way to go – that she'd show him how it's done.
He couldn't believe he was making plans with Granger. Not concrete plans, mind you. But ideas.
She told him about the muggle schools she was considering – where they were, what their reputations were, she'd live in the dormitories. She laughed about how weird it would be to not use magic in a room she shared with some muggle girl. She claimed she didn't have a favorite color, it just depended on her mood. She was happy being an only child. He'd always wanted a sibling.
They watched the sun set, sitting on the ground on a blanket he'd transfigured, drinking wine and watching the bats in the forest come out.
He held her hand and traced abstract patterns into her palm.
It was too normal. It felt like a scene from someone else's life. A scene from some alternative timeline where he wasn't a Death Eater and they'd just grown up together, fellow students who grew into something more.
Her world was bright and warm, and he realized he wanted to be a part of it desperately.
He told her about growing up with Vince and Greg and Theo and wreaking havoc on their family homes and pranking tutors and nannies. She told him embarrassing stories about Harry and about the time she'd polycuiced herself into a cat. She didn't believe him when he told her Snape had once shaped his hair into a mohawk to get him to stop crying when he was 5. When she giggled, he could feel her exhales on his ear and neck.
When had she gotten so close?
He turned his head and she was staring at his profile, smiling.
"What?" he asked.
She shook her head. "I like being here with you."
She placed a light kiss on his lips and ran her fingers through his hair. He had to fight not to sink into her.
She sighed into him and he scooted closer, pressing as much of her against him as he could. She was so soft and warm and made him feel lightheaded. She pulled him back so that she was laying underneath him on the blanket, and he thought he might simply die with how perfectly she fit underneath him.
She started to pull away and smiled at him. It was a sleepy, blissful kind of smile. He imagined it's what she might look like when she first woke up. What he wouldn't give to find out if that was true. So, he started kissing her, trying to put everything into it. He wasn't rushed, but he wasn't trying to be chaste either.
She traced his back with her hands, leaving hot paths wherever she went. He left languid kisses on her neck, breathing in the scent of her shampoo like oxygen.
After a while, he forced himself to stop, resting his forehead on hers. She let out a contented sigh and stroked his cheekbone with her fingers. He sat back up and she did as well, resting her head on his shoulder.
She let him point out constellations even though he was sure she knew what they all were already. She told him about the muggle astronaut programs.
When he was pointing out Cancer, she squeaked out that there was a shooting star. She told. Him to make a wish. Even in his head, he couldn't properly articulate what he wanted. So he just let his mind wander down the rushing river of emotions and hoped the universe would be able to find something in there to grant.
Fluff, fluff, fluffety, fluff. See you next time.