Continued gratitude to LightofEvolution for devoting time to my little ramblings to help them be their best possible selves :)
And also, thanks to my husband for inspiring the overall topic of this chapter.
Hermione is enjoying yet another moment of peace by the lake when, yet again, Draco approaches her and flops by her side.
She isn't startled this time. At this point, it's becoming sort of a new normal. She was almost expecting him.
Just two days ago, he'd brushed by her in the Great Hall, claimed he was just 'passing by', and asked if she'd ever attended a 'frat party'. He'd used air quotes as he said it, sounding as shifty as ever. Hermione had glanced around her and found Harry and Neville watching the exchange, open suspicion on their faces.
"Err, no. Those gatherings are typically reserved for students attending a muggle uni." At his quizzical expression, she'd clarified, "An upper level education beginning at roughly the age we graduate Hogwarts and running from two to eight years, respectively."
The delight on his face was nearly comical, and he had almost fallen over himself, rushing gleefully away, as if he had somewhere to be. Hermione had looked at Harry, opened her mouth to speak, and then just shook her head in utter confusion.
"Granger." She looks over, now, at his greeting and finds that odd smile on his face. 'Odd' in its apparent sincerity.
"Malfoy. What brings you out here today?"
She expects a line about going to Hogsmeade or just being out for a stroll, but instead he says, "I just saw you out here, from the castle. Thought I'd say hello again."
"Oh… hello, then." Now what? Hermione feels rather uncomfortable, glancing over to find him watching her with ghost of that honest grin and an open, if interested gaze.
Is he? Interested? Could that be why he keeps popping around and asking her random questions? Her suspicions have run a gamut of possibilities. From nefarious schemes to flirting, she has no idea what he wants with her.
"You spend a lot of time out here," he notes. "You never seemed the outdoor type."
"Oh, well, I'm not entirely. I'm just… enjoying my time here: What's left of it. I haven't really had the opportunity to just enjoy Hogwarts the last few years." She cringes a little, afraid she's pushed a button, implying the last two years were all fun and games for the Malfoy heir, and quickly adds, "I mean, none of us really have."
She feels a little guilty to even look at him but finally relaxes infinitesimally when he chuckles and agrees, "No, we really haven't. So," he continues, "what happens for you, after Hogwarts? Going to change the world from a Ministry cubicle? Run off to parts unknown in search of adventure?"
She hesitates before answering, still wary and internally searching for the ways this is a trick. "I had an interview with the Ministry. That night we spoke in the corridors actually."
"Ah, the Armani trousers. From Harrods."
"I… right." How bloody odd he remembers the muggle designer name she mentioned. His attention to detail is either very flattering or the strangest fucking thing ever. "I had an interview with the muggle relations office."
His face takes on a new quality. She wouldn't go as far as to say he frowns or it darkens, but his jovial expression is more than diminished. "You should be careful. There are a lot of wizards and witches who still don't like this new cooperation from the Ministry to the muggle governments. You might find yourself on the wrong end of a wand."
She studies him a moment, not liking this abrupt turn, and lifts herself to her feet. "Are you threatening me?" She hisses down at him.
"What? I don't know what you mean-"
She doesn't stay to hear his protests but, instead, stomps back toward the castle. Hearing a rustling behind her, she turns just enough to toss a tripping jinx over her shoulder and disappears back to Gryffindor tower.
Draco watches her departure from his position on the ground and knows that, somewhere along the way, that conversation went wrong. She still doesn't trust him. He would suppose that's fair, after all of their history, but it's disappointing.
He stands and brushes himself off, hoping for more opportunities to show her that he is a changed man. No animosity toward muggles, and very sincerely interested in the most interesting witch at Hogwarts. He tried mentioning her trousers and where she bought them, hoping she would be impressed with his knowledge of her heritage. Perhaps if he steps it up a notch? She has to be impressed by his growing interest in muggle culture.
It's fine, he thinks. He can wait. There are months left before the end of school. He's more determined than ever to get her attention. He's sure an opportunity will arise soon.
"Nine," Pansy announces dejectedly. Having no bonus for education, she fails many of these types of challenges.
The four companions are currently on the grounds, or 'campus', of a muggle university. Draco had explained in general what that means, grateful once again for the boundless source of knowledge he has found in Granger. The party is attending a social gathering here; the first step on their current quest that is meant to have a large monetary payoff at the end. Theo, in particular, has been looking for money-earning tasks in recent sessions, his funds still suffering from his purchase of a motor vehicle.
They hadn't been at the gathering, or 'frat party' as the guide calls it, for more than one round of play, when Blaise failed a dexterity roll and ended up with a bloody nose. Retreating their team into the loo, they are met with a cabinet stocked with a selection of items that Draco is allowing them to gather for use. Unfamiliar with the muggle terms, they have to rely on character knowledge checks to determine if they are medically useful here. They have already found that 'aspirin' and 'petroleum jelly' are not appropriate for use in this circumstance, Theo and Draco having already taken a turn at trying to roll for information.
Pansy had been next to try to remedy the situation. Unfortunately, the check being for knowledge has put her at a disadvantage.
Draco shakes his head at her failed attempt. "I'm sorry, your character doesn't know what a tampon is. Anyone else?"
Blaise picks up the die and tries his luck. "Fourteen, plus my bonus." He looks at Draco expectantly, knowing he's scored high enough to receive the answer.
Draco frowns, unsure, and picks up a slim tome to his right. "Let me check the guide." He catches Theo out of the corner of his eye looking annoyed. Draco knows that Nott in particular hates it when he has to consult the support materials for answers. As if he's supposed to have every bleeding muggle artifact memorized.
He answers the glare with a mumbled, "Fuck off, Theo."
Draco skims as quickly as possible and finally finds the item listed. "Tampon. Small cotton appliance used to absorb blood."
"Perfect!" Blaise looks terribly pleased with himself. "I do that then. Use the tampon. Is there a roll check?"
Draco looks back at Blaise and decides not to torture them or drag this out. "No, it's fine. It's a remedial use item." He recites in the clear, strong voice he uses for game narration, "You successfully use the tampon."
Crisis averted, the four get back to their "Frat Party" and score the contact for their next mission.
It's a beautiful day for Quidditch, Hermione thinks. Clear and sunny; a rarity for the area to be sure. Snug in her scarf and mittens, she doesn't mind the chill in there air, partially offset by the warming charm on her hat and robes.
Just because she doesn't like to sit a broom, doesn't mean she doesn't enjoy the game. She never really cared for running back and forth endlessly across an open field either, but that doesn't mean she doesn't root for England, yelling at the telly with her Dad, during the World Cup.
She has had a glorious last couple of weeks. Finally hearing back from the Ministry, she has been offered her dream job: A salaried position in Magical Creature regulation, specifically in the Rights and Legislation surrounding non-human magical beings. She will have a private office, her own assistant, and a salary that, in Wizarding terms, already rivals the annual income of one of her parents. Her final education scores at this point are merely a formality, but she intends to see the year through and takes a bit of pride in the fact that they are willing to hold the position for her another few months.
She has also had a few exchanges by owl with Ron, smoothing over the rifts of their relationship, as well as a date with Michael Corner on the last Hogsmeade day. He was very nice and it wasn't terrible, but she declined his offer to repeat the event. Though the outcome wasn't ideal, she is proud of herself for moving forward and exploring potential relationships outside of Ron. She had pined for him for so long, it had seemed strange to try with anyone else, even though they hadn't worked out.
That opinion is no longer in her mind and Hermione is ready to take on the world.
She has also gone two weeks without Draco Malfoy saying odd things to her or asking about muggle architecture and death practices… so that feels like a win.
This is one of those moments that Hermione Granger feels at peace. Like the years of war sitting at her back are truly lost to the ages and her life can finally blossom, open like a proverbial flower. Her parents are rooting for her, the Ministry is clamoring to secure her, and her fellow students are finally seeing her as a witch. A woman. Not a walking reference tome with bad hair.
She absentmindedly fluffs at her curls, still feeling the sting of all the years of bullying, but resolutely and quite stubbornly refusing to change her style on principle.
She is distracted by her thoughts when she hears a sickening crunch and looks up just in time for the stands to collectively take their feet, an audible gasp flowing like water through the crowd.
"It's Ginny!"
Pavarti Patil is pointing with one hand down onto the pitch while her other dramatically hides her mouth. Hermione would not say she has become best of friends with the girl, but now that they alone share what is known as the girls' eighth year dorm (Lavender Brown being dead at the hands of an equally deceased Fenrir Greyback) they have developed at least a pleasant level of acquaintance.
Following the angle of Pavarti's arm, she sees Ginny Weasley on the ground, nursing her face in her hands, as the other players swoop down from the sky. Hermione is on her feet in moments and racing to the bottom of the stands.
She is just within ear shot when she sees Draco Malfoy coming down from the other direction, broom clutched in his hand.
"She alright?" He is asking everyone and no one, looking at Hermione's friend with what almost seems like sincere concern. Hermione is pretty sure there must be a trick here somewhere. She half wonders if he caused the accident in the first place.
"I think my nose is broken," Ginny mumbles through her fingers.
"Let's get her to Pomfrey," one of the Gryffindors blurts out; ever obvious as is indicative of their house.
Hermione loves her house, truly, but really, we were all on that page without needing a script.
"We should stop the bleeding." Draco is looking around at, searching for something. "Does anyone have a handkerchief or…"
He stops and Hermione sees a muggle lightbulb go off behind his eyes. "Those muggle things for blood… starts with a 'T'…"
"A tourniquet?" One of the Slytherin chasers suggests.
Draco shakes his head, muttering, "no, no… oh!" Then he looks directly at Harry who is kneeling beside his girlfriend, and, with grave sincerity, he barks, "Tampon! Potter, do you have a tampon?"
To say the world goes still would only be slightly dramatic and overstated. Most everyone gathered around doesn't even know what the strange sounding word Malfoy just used means. But Hermione does, and, apparently, his face somehow both draining of color and also going a rosy blush of embarrassment, so does Harry.
"No! What the f- No, Malfoy, I don't have a bleeding tampon."
Bleeding. Ironic, Hermione thinks.
She watches Draco spin around, searching the crowd. "Dean, you're muggleborn. Do you have a tampon with you?"
"Erm, no. Sorry, I'm fresh out." The look on his face is dubious at best, and Hermione is feeling a confused kinship with everyone born in the muggle world. There are only about five of them here, but they all look mortified.
Repeating a mantra of not me, not me in her head, Hermione is trying desperately not to look his direction when he calls her out by name, the stupid sod.
"Hermione, you're always prepared. Come on, we need to help your friend. Do you have a tampon?" He entreats her with an open expression and unguarded eyes. Hermione just shakes her head numbly, cheeks pink in the sort of abject humiliation unique to teenage girls confronted with sexuality in awkward mixed company.
Somehow, Madame Hooch comes to everyone's rescue when she emerges from the crowd with a cloth in her hands and presses it to Ginny's face. "Here you are. Just a little blood, then. Let's get you sorted."
Ginny accepts her instructor's offered hand and rises to her feet, holding the small towel to her nose. She spares an agitated glare for Malfoy, not understanding exactly what he was doing, but knowing it made every muggleborn in attendance very uncomfortable.
The crowd slowly starts to disperse, some of the Gryffindor team following Ginny to check on her status, likely concerned for her as their Chaser as much as a friend. The Slytherin team heads back to their room to change, but, oddly, Draco stays behind, looking a bit perplexed.
She's not sure why she does it, but Hermione lingers, curiosity making her hesitate. She makes a show of fixing her robes and retying her scarf; anything to delay her departure until most everyone is off the pitch.
Everyone, except the pureblood who just asked all and sundry for a tampon.
"Did I pronounce it wrong?"
Hermione looks up, pretending to fidget with her cuff and appear surprised, like she hadn't known he was there.
"Hmm?"
"Tampon. Did I… is that not how you say it? Tee, A, Emm, Pee, Oh, En. Is it… TamPON." He says it like it rhymes with trombone, and Hermione can't stop the snort she releases.
He scowls at her and picks up his broom, preparing to stomp away. "You don't have to be such a shite about it," he pouts out, and turns to leave.
"Sorry," she blurts, almost unthinking; that natural instinct to apologize when someone is offended taking hold. "I mean, no… you had it right. The first time. Your pronunciation was flawless."
He looks wary but stops his retreat. Backtracking a few steps, he is kicking at the ground with a sort of embarrassed agitation. There is something boyish about his uncertainty. Almost petulantly charming. Nothing at all like the dark man she has known him to be the last few years. She wants to believe this is who he really is, but Hermione is by her nature one to question from all angles. Is it genuine? Or for her benefit?
Regardless, she holds her ground and waits for his reply, prepared to engage him in civil conversation.
"What was it then? I mean, what did I do wrong?"
"You mean… by asking for one?" She can hardly even say the word, embarrassed as she is. How he has been able to hold this conversation is beyond her. Ron was squeamish if she even hinted at her monthlies, and you'd think Harry was the result of a virgin birth for all of his unwillingness to accept the realities of a menstrual cycle.
"It's just… not something you typically bring up. In polite conversation. Especially in mixed company."
His brow furrows even more. "Because of the blood? Is that a muggle thing? Do male and female muggles not discuss… bodies?"
If her cheeks weren't red before, they must be positively crimson by now. "Err… we do. I mean, some do… but, I mean not with just… school chums. That is, not that type of body function." Merlin, this is mortifying.
"But what do you do? If someone is hurt? What about in a muggle hospital? Can your healers only work with their own gender? And here I heard you muggles thought we were the conservative ones…"
"No, no. Of course it's different with injuries or, you know, regular blood." If the earth could just swallow her up right now, that would be ever so convenient. Regular blood? Godric, help her, that is just going to beg the question-
"What do you mean, 'regular' blood? Is there an irregular kind?"
"Not irregular, you Neanderthal. It's completely natural, it's just not… the standard type. I mean, it's not even just blood. There's tissue from the uterus as well."
Hermione watches as Draco goes very, very pale. More pale than usual, and that is a magical feat, indeed. "Wait… is a tampon… is that for…" He trails off and gulps, finally squeaking out, "a witch's special friend?"
Well, that's a euphemism she hasn't heard since she was about eleven, but she nods anyway, suddenly even more embarrassed, and yet also having an internal laughing riot at the look on his face.
"Is it safe to assume you didn't actually know what it was, then?"
Deathly quiet and eyes wide, his head noddles chaotically.
"What in Merlin's name have you been doing to have such terribly flawed knowledge of such a random muggle item?" She asks the question aloud, but is more pondering to himself. His interest in non-magical culture has been odd and varied, but this one definitely takes the proverbial cake. It could seem, at first glance, an innocuous topic of conversation. Except, apparently to Draco, a tampon seems to have something to with violence and injury.
Architectural technology, death rituals, cleaning up bodily fluids…
Hermione almost doesn't want to put the pieces together of this particular puzzle.
In the meantime, he's still staring at her, head bouncing, as he stumbles out, "I have to… I need to go. Gonna check on… make sure Weasley… Bye."
She watches him go, curious and wary and hoping her instincts are just over-sharp from war and not leading her into another dangerous adventure.
A/N I was excited this week to find I had been nominated for a few categories in the Granger Enchanted Awards over on facebook. Huge thanks to anyone who thought enough of Say Please and Once More with Feeling to do me the honor.
OK so FF was broken like all day. I wasn't able to do review replies and for that I sincerely apologize. So here I am at the end of the night and I thought maybe you'd prefer a chapter instead of a reply? But I certainly don't want to diminish my gratitude. So instead, love and thanks for each comment. I heart all your faces... let the credits roll!
Guests... however many of you there are :)
Unicornmist
ZeldaSeverous
GoodGirlsBadBoys00
AussieSweet
jessiraine0113
tenderheartinablender
AnnaOxford
Jewel 213
midnightmagic007
Snowflake Dazzle
MotherofBulls
CumberCookie99
Schnuck
zoesheppard
LightofEvolution
Jess6800
Queen Vulca
tmtcltb
ForsakenKalika
elacartier
EStrunk
slytherinxbadxgirl
BoredRavenvlaw620
In Dreams
pgoodrichboggs
Ardentlyadmired
uhohspaghettiooos
HarryPGinnyW4eva
sarenia
FairyStoneLove
iamthek
SlashJahook
closetfangirl98
littlestrick
aeireis
Oh, and Happy St. Patty's Day! If you are out and about, have a green beer for me!