A/N: Thanks to everyone who took the time to review. :) And thanks of course to my beta Cecelia Everhart.
Any ideas for the revenge Hermione might take on Skeeter? I'm really uncreative there. If someone sends me a great idea I might make a Oneshot out of it. Soooo ... let your creativity flow. I hope you'll enjoy this chapter.
13. Aftermath
Hermione slept very late the next morning. After a quick shower and some breakfast, she went straight to Harry's, not noticing the owls in front of her window.
"Hi Harry, hi Ginny, hi James," she shouted loudly, after stepping out of the floo.
"Hermione?" Harry called from somewhere upstairs. "Just come up to my office."
Swiftly, with a smile on her face, she climbed up the flight of stairs and entered the large and sunny office. Harry was sitting on his desk, piles of papers in front of him.
"Don't tell me you're working," she grinned.
He turned around. "I'm rather surprised you're not. Aren't there tons of papers you still have to read before the end of holiday?" he said mockingly, however, he seemed very anxious with a deep frown on his face. At once, a familiar pang of guilt hit her. She had forgotten all about Ginny – well, not exactly forgotten, but she had assumed her friend was on her way to recovery. However, Harry's worried frown told another story.
"Not today. Is something wrong with Ginny? Where is she?" she asked immediately.
"No, no, she's fine. Molly insisted she and the kids come over, so she could take care of them." Despite his reassuring words, he still watched her nervously, his green eyes following her every move.
"I hope you don't beat yourself up about the party," she said deliberate casually and sat down on one of the chairs. His behaviour really didn't reassure her. Something was wrong.
He smiled back wanly. "Of course, I do. But Gin's better now, you don't need to worry. I think she's actually quite angry with herself. Yesterday, all of the party guests stepped by to check on her. It made her furious. She said – and I quote – 'I'm not a feeble woman who needs to be mothered and protected by her brothers!' I think after Fleur, who gave her pregnancy tips to no end, she was ready to hex the next person entering the room."
A laugh escaped Hermione's lips. She could easily picture that scene in her head. "So, it was good then I didn't visit her yesterday," she said lightly, her worry subsiding.
"Yeah," Harry agreed half-heartedly. "How are you?" His troubled green eyes searched her gaze.
"Stop looking at me like that. I'm perfectly fine."
"You're sure? So, it doesn't bother you …?" Harry asked slowly, his frown deepening.
"What are you talking about? That you invited Draco? No." She couldn't help the smile that danced on her lips.
"Ehm, no. I mean … the prophet," Harry clarified tentatively.
"The prophet? Which prophet? The newspaper?" She frowned. "What's wrong with it?"
"So, you don't know?"
"Don't know what?" she enquired impatiently. That Harry was walking on eggshells really started to irritate her.
Slowly, he reached for something on his desk and handed it to her gingerly. "Don't be mad, okay?"
"Why would I be –" She stopped in mid-sentence, registering the big photo on the front page. With every word she read, her face turned paler. "I'm going to report her. Right now!" she hissed and jumped up. "How dare she … I won't let her ruin …" She felt so enraged that she wasn't able to form coherent sentences.
"Calm down, Hermione," Harry pleaded and grabbed her shoulders. "It's not that bad."
"Not that bad? Are you joking? Have you read this?" she yelled and waved the paper in his face. "She even mentioned you."
"It's complete rubbish and we both know that. Just ignore the owls for a few weeks. There were worse things out there after your divorce."
He was right, but she couldn't help the seething anger inside her. "I warned her not to write something about me. Arg." Exasperatedly, she threw her hands in the air.
"Hermione…"
"I know," she sighed and took a deep breath to control herself. After she had exhaled slowly and consciously, her rage had subsided a little. She tilted her head, throwing a hopeful glance in Harry's direction. "But you'd be the perfect alibi. You'll tell everyone I was with you while I venture out to kill her. Nobody questions the head auror."
A small laugh escaped him. "I'm sorry, but I can't let you do something you'll regret."
"What makes you think I'll regret it?" she countered and flopped down onto a chair. Only now, did she realise that Draco must have read this as well. Would he believe that stupid story? Would he think she was after the money?
"Because I know you," Harry answered softly. "Don't worry, Hermione. Nobody'll believe that, not even Draco."
Her head snapped around and she narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "How did you know I was thinking about him?" Harry normally wasn't the most sensitive person, better than Ron admittedly, but nowhere close to the prophetic faculties Ginny sometimes displayed.
He shrugged nonchalantly, but continued watching her sharply. "So, tell me. Was Ginny right? You … like him… ?"
So, the idea had come from Ginny. "Um…" Hermione said eloquently.
"And he likes you. Who would've guessed?" He smiled crookedly, as if this amused him rather than angered him.
Carefully, she searched his gaze. "Are you mad at me?" she still asked cautiously because she really didn't know what to do if he disapproved of Draco.
"No! Why would I be?"
"Conspiring with the arch-enemy?" she guessed.
"Would I invite my arch-enemy to my birthday party?" Harry deadpanned, accio-ing the newspaper out of her hand and throwing it in the bin.
"Mhm, maybe not." Hermione tried to smile, but it felt more like a grimace.
"See."
"It's just friendship. Nothing more," she clarified quickly, as if to reassure him. He, however, didn't seem to need reassurance.
"Yet." Harry grinned impishly. "I've watched him on the dance floor. Be brave, Mione."
She stared at him for as second, analysing his words down to the tiniest detail. It almost sounded as if he wanted her to fall in love with him and establish a deeper relationship. "You honestly think that he and I are a good idea?" Hermione asked, shaking her head unbelievingly.
"I'm not exactly enthusiastic, but … it's your choice, Mione. If you think he's good enough for you, then he's good enough for me, too."
She swallowed. His approval somehow meant a lot to her. "Thanks, Harry. I … I think he might be." If she thought about yesterday, she couldn't help but smile, so that must be a good sign. She felt she could trust him, just like Harry, or Ginny, or Ron. It wasn't exactly gasoline on fire, like he had described it, more like melting the ice inside of her.
"Do you want to use Nival to owl him?" Harry interrupted her thoughts.
"No. He's probably busy. I'll visit him in the evening. Do you plan on going to the burrow as well?"
"Actually, I do. I just wanted to finish this. Do you want to join me?" he offered, starting to shuffle his papers around.
"I'd like that very much," Hermione answered. The small voice inside her told her that Draco probably had believed the ludicrous article and that he would never want to see her again. Although she didn't quite believe it, she felt like putting this meeting of for a bit and enjoy the day while she still could.
While she waited for Harry to get ready, another part of her mind started to plot revenge on Skeeter. There was no way that poison penned woman would get away with that.
A couple of hours later, Hermione returned from a nice afternoon at the burrow. Differently from last time, Mrs. Weasley didn't believe the horrendous story about Hermione. She was especially adamant that such a nice girl like Hermione wouldn't start anything with an Ex-Death Eater like Malfoy. Ginny just rolled her eyes, but it made Hermione think.
War heroine and Ex-Death Eater – how likely was it to work?
Ron, of course, had been as blind as ever, completely agreeing with his mother. She wondered how he would take it. Ginny and Harry were fine with it, and Luna as well, but her other friends…? Would she offend them? What about Draco's friends – would they accept her?
Hell, why was she even thinking about that? They weren't even dating … or were they? Yesterday's outing could technically count as a date, the trip to Germany as well. Realising that, her heart suddenly missed a beat.
Holy shit, what was she doing? Dating? Travelling to Germany with a total stranger? Why had she agreed to such a ridiculous idea? She was such an idiot!
Maybe he'll cancel now, anyway, she tried to calm herself, but the feeling of desperation lingered. She had to talk with him right away, or she would go mad.
Without thinking, she grabbed some floo powder and threw it into the flames. Only seconds later, Draco's living room appeared in front of her. She realised that she hadn't been to his flat before. It was modern and spacious, just as you would expect it from a wealthy bachelor.
"Draco? Are you home?" she asked shakily. Maybe she should have owled him first instead of barging into his home. But before she could turn about and flee through the floo, a she heard a muffled voice.
"Hermione? I'll be right there."
A heartbeat later, Draco appeared in the living room, only in comfy pants and a T-shirt. She hadn't really seen him like that before, but she liked his relaxed side.
"Hi," she said shyly, which seemed a bit anticlimactic to the words she had prepared to say. But now she found herself unable to utter any of them.
He nervously stuffed his hands in his pockets, which made him look very un-Draco-like. "Hi. Is everything okay? I presume you read the paper…"
"So, you did too."
He took his hands out the pockets and crossed his arms instead. "Blaise was so kind to rub my nose in it – at eight in the morning."
"Ugh, sorry." She sighed. "I hope I didn't cause any inconveniences," she added politely, tip-toeing around the subject she really wanted to address but didn't dare to.
Draco, though, saw right through her. "Why are you really here?" he asked, a frown appearing on his face. His voice startled her and she shifted uncomfortably.
"I … I don't know. I wanted to see … if you'd changed your mind," she stuttered, carefully avoiding his eyes.
"You think I'd believe that rubbish about you being a money-grubber?" He laughed wryly. "Yeah, I completely bought that." He rolled his eyes. "Malfoy sounds so much better than Granger, anyway."
"Haha," she said dryly. "This is not funny."
"Really, Hermione? You think I'd fall for something so obvious? I'm not gullible. Besides, you only have to take a look at the author to know it's one quarter truth to three quarters rubbish."
"I didn't want to imply –"
"I know you didn't."
"So, we're good?" she asked, her heart beating rapidly like a jungle drum.
He returned her gaze cautiously. "You're not angry at me for throwing you to the wolves, metaphorically speaking?"
"Of course not! I should've picked a different place. It was just too close to Diagon Alley, I guess."
"Then we're good," he smiled warmly.
Relief flooded Hermione, and she suddenly noticed how handsome he looked in the fiery evening light that washed his hair with highlights of copper and honey and softened his features, making his face less pointy. She was about to say something when a loud jangling interrupted her. Hermione spun around, wand automatically in her hands, but it was just an owl knocking on Draco's window.
He rolled his eyes. "That's the fifteenth owl. Do people have nothing better to do?"
"Only the fifteenth?" She laughed. "There must be at least fifty letters on my doorstep."
"Sorry," he said apologetically and pointed at a chair. "Take a seat."
"Thanks. And don't worry. It's not like I read them."
He grimaced at the idea of reading these probably quite impudent letters and turned to the stove. "Tea?"
She nodded and watched him while he put the kettle on. Despite what he had said earlier he looked a bit drawn, like something was nagging at him. "Tell me what's bothering you," she whispered finally.
His ice grey eyes focused on her at once.
"You're not the only perceptive person," she added dryly.
He shrugged and handed her a cup. "I had a fight with my parents."
"About me?" she asked without thinking.
He didn't answer, but the look on his face told her everything.
"Tell me!" she demanded.
He cleared his throat. "Well, mother doesn't give a damn about the article, father, however, …" His face twitched. "He said you won't see a single knut of the Malfoy money and should I dare to date you, he'd put down an airtight prenuptial contract. As if I care."
"He doesn't like me very much, does he?" Hermione said lightly.
"Nope."
"But he doesn't have to like me for us being friends. I'm sorry you argued because of me," she murmured softly and reached for his hand. "Just forget it. You can tell him, I don't need his money. I nearly bankrupted Viktor during our divorce." She smiled mischievously and winked.
She was pleased to see that Draco couldn't help laughing and found herself laughing with him.
"Thanks," he said after he had caught his breath.
"You're welcome."
He bit his lip. "That means you still want to go on this trip with me?"
"By all means," she answered automatically before she could stop herself. Hadn't she wanted to cancel it only minutes ago? But now that she was here with him, it felt so different, so right.
"Perfect. I've already arranged our lodgings."
She tilted her head. "Where'll we go?"
"Wait and see," He grinned and took a sip from his tea.
"Oh, come on," she groaned, already considering different locations in her head. Berlin would be too obvious, Munich too boring. Maybe something more 'cultural'? Or maybe a hiking trip in the Alps? –Although, on second thought, Draco didn't seem to be one for hiking. A beach holiday then?
"Okay, I give you a hint." He smiled smugly. "A German poet and playwright said – wait I tell you in German." He grinned even wider. "Das Beste an dieser Stadt ist der Zug nach München."
"What?" She frowned deep in thought. For now she wasn't able to make head or tail of it, even if she understood the German perfectly well. ‚The best thing about this city is the train to Munich.' Where could that be?
"That'll be our first stop."
Her eyes widened. "So, we'll visit more than one city?"
"Maybe." He looked so cheerful and at the same time mischievous – like a five year old who had managed to steal a cookie from the top shelf without anyone noticing – she had to laugh.
"You are impossible," she said.
"Impossibly good looking and charming, that's what you wanted to say, right?"
She just shook her head. She actually hadn't expected him to be such a joker. Arrogant, yes, charming, maybe, but funny? Inadvertently, her thoughts wandered back to an earlier conversation. He wasn't at all like she or any of the others had expected him to be – a lot more likeable for starters. It gave her hope that they would accept him in the end.
"By the way, I wanted to ask you something," she murmured hesitantly and took a large gulp of the fresh tea.
"Shoot," he said expectantly.
"I want to meet your friends. You know all of mine, but I know none of yours."
"Well." He shifted uncomfortably.
"What? Are you ashamed of me?" she asked taken aback. Would they judge her – the mudblood?
His jaw tensed. "No, that's not it." She threw him a quizzical look and he added, "I … I haven't talked with them about you. Only Blaise knows because he works at the ministry."
"And? They have changed their views, haven't they?"she asked pointedly.
He shrugged. "I guess. But they still won't like you very much, bossy know-it-all, Golden Girl, and war heroine."
"I think I can handle that," she said firmly. From all the things they could throw at her, those were the least offending they could pick. She wasn't ashamed of her role in the war, and she knew she tended to rub her knowledge in other people's face.
"Well, then I invite them over for the week after our holiday," he gave in, and his solemn face told her that he wouldn't let his friends hurt her.
Can anyone guess where they'll be going? I gave you a hint. :D
Next chapter: The holiday!