Beta'd by Maddiechu
"Due to the behaviour of the Hufflepuff quidditch team, the Hallowe'en event is now up for possible cancellation." McGonagall said at breakfast, to a hall of silent students, each looking at her with uncontrolled sorrow and disappointment on their faces. "The events were planned this year to help heal the wounds caused by a war, to encourage you to make friends in other houses, and to perhaps learn that just because someone's parents think something, their children might not think the same way. In saying that, the events were planned to encourage you to open your minds, to think about your fellow students backgrounds. We have just had a war. I was rather hoping that the subsequent victory would encourage you all to heal the rifts. Learn why this war started, and do everything you can to prevent it from reoccuring. Unfortunately; given the state of the house points this year, and the record number of detentions the staff have had to hand out, you have all chosen otherwise. Now, I ask you for your honest opinion, how can myself and the rest of the staff honestly trust you with a Hallowe'en event, when you find more enjoyment in harming each other than learning to love and accept one another?" McGonagall's voice rang out, and the Hufflepuff house squirmed in their seats, Professor Sprouts head in her hands, silent tears running down her cheeks from the disappointment. Hagrid placed his hand upon her back, rubbing it in what he assumed was a gentle manner, as Professor Sprout was pushed forward with his unintentional strength.
"We need change. It is not a wish for change, or an idea we hope will happen one day; it is an undeniable need. I despair of this school if the hatred you have chosen to continue truly makes you happy. I cannot fathom how, and must put it down to your age and naivety, even though; many of you fought in the war." McGonagall shook her head, as the quiet seemed to smother and blanket each of them, pressing the air out of their lungs and making it hard to move. Hermione looked to Draco sitting at his table, and offered him a smile, Daphne at his side. He smirked at her, and her heart lifted; the darkness that threatened to swallow the school failed to affect them, in their own new found partnership.
"It's not fair." Someone said suddenly, their voice carrying in the quiet of the Great Hall. The students shifted; surprised at the confidence of someone to speak when it didn't seem like such a good idea, eager to find who it was.
"Explain your reasoning." McGonagall said evenly, and the students began to shuffle about once more, curious and desperate to see who was speaking.
"It's just…I don't see why we all have to suffer again, we were looking forward to the Hallowe'en event, and now you're possibly going to take it away because the Hufflepuffs took their anger out on the Slytherin team I don't-" The boy said still clear, but a petulant note struck a chord in his words.
"You think the Slytherins didn't suffer?" Daphne interrupted incredulously. Murmurs broke loose at once; the idea of a Slytherin speaking out in defence of themselves wasn't what they wanted to hear. McGonagall closed her eyes, slowly raising her hand to signal silence as the young Gryffindor boy stared at Daphne angrily; mad his speech had been broken off.
"Silence," McGonagall said, and the whispers cut instantly; the threat of losing the Hallowe'en event fresh in their minds. "Miss Greengrass, you will explain your point."
Daphne nodded, sure within herself as her sister looked stricken, suddenly horrified.
"I think this entire school simply forgot who the Slytherin house were raised by, and just assumed things about us in the war. You were furious we didn't fight, absolutely filled with so much rage that you've all taken it upon yourselves to make sure the Slytherins are condemned to a life of misery while they come to this school. I just want to ask you all right now to think of the Slytherin position during that war. When this school was invaded by Death Eaters, people who were our parents, our aunts, uncles, our best friends parents, they may have been committing a crime; but they're family. Even if we didn't agree with what they believed in you were asking us to injure and kill the people who raised us! You think we didn't suffer? We did, just not in the way you were expecting or looking out for. Many of us at this table don't have parents anymore. Some of you in this room most likely killed them, or helped kill them. Or they're in Azkaban. Some of our house members are literally the only member left of their family. I bet some of you are thinking 'so! I'm like that too!' and I am sorry that that's happened to you, I'm sorry you suffered during the war, at least you have your family reputations intact. At least you will be able to leave Hogwarts and not have the struggle to find a job because of the connotations. We suffered, and now we're suffering even more because you can't find healthy ways to control your anger and grief. I get that you're mad at us, I do, but now you're suffering too because of what you're doing." Daphne said, to the quiet that lingered in the hall. Members of the other houses shifted awkwardly in their seats, their faces petulant, angry and spiteful. Some wore expressions of deep set sadness, while others openly cried. Some covered their ears, unwilling to listen.
"We're not suffering because we're taking our anger and grief out on you." The Gryffindor boy said once more, and Hermione found herself laughing suddenly, a great swell of mirth bursting from her lips. People turned to stare at her in shock, whispering that she'd gone insane between themselves.
"Yes!" She laughed, "Yes we all are! I had to put two Ravenclaws in detention yesterday, for beating up a Slytherin first year, and then they pouted and complained and stamped their feet that it was unfair and they shouldn't be put in detention. You call that being happy and not suffering? What about the constant stream of Howlers everyone in this hall seems to be getting from parents, livid they're in detention again and again and again. You don't think that's suffering? What about those who won't even try to make themselves happy, and instead think violence is the answer. That isn't suffering to you? It has become so bad that we can't even be trusted with events that are supposed to be fun! You all donated so much money to have a fireworks night here, and it could be incredible because of how many fireworks I was able to afford; but that's a fun night! With explosions and fire, if we can't even be trusted to have something as simple as trick or treat event, how are we going to be trusted with fireworks? Think of all the pain we can cause with fireworks!" She laughed loudly, gripping her sides, feeling the release of tension she hadn't even been aware she had been feeling. The atmosphere in the hall sobered, the mention of Hermione being absolutely insane dropped as the realisation of things began to seep into people's minds.
"What about Quidditch!?" She found herself saying again, and the atmosphere of shame thickened heavily, "Now Hufflepuff don't have a team, we've pretty much trashed us having Quidditch matches to relax at. How long before we get the Hogsmeade trips taken away from us, because we'll be duelling the Slytherins in the streets." Sarcasm tore through her words, and she found herself standing up, gathering her bag and taking a plate of toast with her. "I don't care about the rumours about me in the slightest, but I didn't come back to Hogwarts after sleeping in a tent for a year for this. All we do is fight, and I am so sick to death of it." She finished, as Ginny raised her glass to her in a mock salute. Hermione grinned at her, and left the hall; as the whispers exploded and McGonagalls call for silence once more echoed.
:: :: ::
"How are you feeling?" She asked, buttoning up his shirt with deft fingers, and straightening his collar. He swallowed, slipping his hands about her waist, and pulling her up against him. She was warm, and that heavenly smell was a comfort he hadn't expected to develop, pressing his lips against her forehead he grunted.
"That's not an answer," she said smiling while he couldn't see her face. She ran her fingers over his chest, as he grunted again.
"I guess I'm just going to have to suffer what they want." He eventually replied his body and tone dull.
"I think so; I think it would be best." She answered, leaning backwards to tip her head upwards and place a small kiss upon his chin.
"It's…it's not fair Hermione, they had their chance to ruin me, my trial. They chose not to submit anything. They chose. Their fault; I don't like that they get to continue causing me trouble and pain like this." He sighed petulantly as Hermione snorted.
"Oh please. Like you were innocent of being a perfect student for the six years before the war. Like you didn't cause trouble, chaos, and sheer agony for all around you. You abused power when you were given it, your prefects' position, and then with your "inquisitorial squad". You used your father to make life hell for teachers here; you living what seems to be a charmed life is doubtless going to rub people the wrong way. Especially considering you are now the Head Boy and you're on the Quidditch Team, in the nice safe halls of Hogwarts. It's going to be hard for people to see the bigger picture, that your Head Boy status is essentially an attempted fix to solve house unity issues, and well…you. You need to learn to not abuse power, and I have to say; I'm impressed at how well you're doing." She said to him as his face contorted into a disgruntled scowl.
"But a public apology with the sole purpose to humiliate me?" He countered a slight pout on his sharp features. Hermione laughed, leaning back as he tipped his head down, a petulant expression still evident.
"You're just going to have to deal with it, sound sincere, and pretend you mean it; even if you hate them all for making you do it. They have to learn to like you the way I do. We both know you didn't have the most ideal upbringing, but that isn't going to be something these people care about Draco; they just saw what you did. Now you being allowed back into Hogsmeade just isn't…it's not nice. It's like pouring salt in open wounds."
"So what do I do? Prepare a speech? Offer them money? What?" He asked his eyes widening as Hermione pulled away from him to pick up his dark green tie. She draped it around his neck, looking at him with amusement as she began to tie it for him. His hands lingering at her waist, thumbs rubbing carefully over the top part of her jeans.
"Don't offer them money. Have you ever given an apology before?" She asked him incredulously as he blinked at her confused.
"No, why would I?" he said dumbly and she rolled her eyes, looking wholly unimpressed.
"Because well, you were a complete dick for the entirety of your life, it's incredible I can tolerate you right now. Let alone kiss you." She replied, finishing off his tie and leaning up to kiss him slowly. He chuckled, returning her kiss fully and passionately.
"So why is money a no?" He asked as she pulled away, his breath a whisper upon her lips.
"It just rubs in what you've got what they haven't, it also shows you're not really sincere about your apology if you think money will solve it. Think about it Draco, what did you do to Madam Rosmerta?"
"I put the imperious curse on her."
"Yes, you did; and why is that illegal?" She asked him a little patronisingly as she picked up his suits jacket, casting a quick heating charm on the inside of it. The first gusts of winter had arrived, and frost had crept into the corners of their windows, as if Jack Frost had slumbered in the night, and failed to paint his pictures.
"Because it's controlling someone." He answered her as if she were thick.
"And you are honestly telling me, you think money can solve that issue?" She asked him raising a lone eyebrow at him in disbelief. His pale cheeks tinged slightly with pink, and he slipped his hands into his suits pockets, unable to look at her.
"I don't see why not, it usually fixes everything." He shrugged, clearly aware he was giving her the wrong answer, but the right one was evading him.
"Draco." She said warningly, heavily disappointed in him.
"What!"
"You took away someone's control. You took away her life. You stopped her from deciding if she wanted toast for breakfast or cereal. You can't just pay for her to get those months of her life back. You essentially killed someone and lived their life for them." She chided him, her disappointment and surprise at his blasé approach to his apology rife in her tone. She draped his jacket over his shoulders, deciding she'd stop helping him dress considering his completely cold heart.
"Oh." Draco said dully.
"Yeah. Oh."
"I didn't kill her though."
"No, Draco, I know; I know, but…it's just as bad. Everything she did she did because you told her to. How would you like it if you lived like that all the time, you said you had no choice to become a Death Eater. How is what you did to Madam Rosmerta any different? Really, explain that difference to me." She asked him quietly, brushing her hair up into a messy bun, and summoning a scarf from her room to wrap around her neck.
Draco started to pale quickly, his skin taking on the grey pallor it did when he was stressed; making the sharpness of his pointed features more apparent. He stepped towards her, wrapping his arms about her waist and dropping his head onto hers gently.
"Oh." He whispered, suddenly feeling rather faint.
"You get it now?" She asked him, her voice low.
"Yeah, yeah, I…I get it."
"I don't think you still fully appreciate how much damage there was in the war and how…how god damned charmed your life actually is. You should be in Azkaban. You need to be sincere Draco; for once in your life, understand just how bad things were." He nodded to her plea, pressing his body up against hers fully, completely, and holding her close.
He breathed in deeply, feeling her wrap her arms about him, surprised at the level of tenderness he was capable of displaying. He knew for a fact Hermione Granger wasn't a soft touch, she'd punched him for starters, and then endured Bellatrix better than most adults in his view. She could take an emotional battering, as demonstrated by the Weasel-King, but for some reason, the idea of treating her the way he used to felt like poison. Her hands were moving up his body, cupping his neck, while another wrapped around his middle, he smirked; bending down to oblige her.
Kissing her was different. Her lips were softer than anything he could name, anything he could think of, anything he could imagine. The way she moved them, slow and delicately, against his own was hypnotic. She leant against him, melting into their kiss, her lips parting as her tongue flicked against his lower lip. He groaned, his mind completely taken off the idea of having to publically apologise in a few hours, and he slipped his hands down her body, cupping her backside. His tongue slipped into her mouth immediately, lazily massaging her tongue with his own. She moaned back, clearly feeling him stiffen below, and the sound of it spurred him on. Their sofa was just behind her, and with a deliberate push with his hips he pressed her backwards, making her step towards it. She seemed to figure what was in his mind.
"No," she gasped against his lips, "not the sofa, my bedroom." She continued, before capturing his lips up in a kiss once more.
He smirked as he responded to her kiss, and instead of stumbling with her to the bedroom, he grabbed her upper thighs, pressing on them gently so she'd spread them.
"Jump," he murmured against her lips, and she did; thankfully. He picked her up, settling her on his hips and walked to her bedroom, opening the door with a fumbling action. She giggled slightly, grazing his lower lip with her teeth, teasing it away from him.
"I'll make you pay for laughing at me you know," He purred at her, his voice filled with teasing, and she laughed deliberately, an open invitation. He dropped her on her bed, watching as she pulled her sweater off immediately, fingering the buttons on her blouse suggestively. He placed his knee on to the bed, climbing on to it as his hands went to the tie about his neck, ripping it off as Hermione began to smirk at him.
"Undo me," she said, her hands at his waist band, small fingers playing with the zip. He swallowed, suddenly unable to control his arousal.
"Undo what?" he asked her, his voice oddly strained.
"Take my clothes off Draco." She replied, raising an eyebrow.
"All of them?"
"All of them." She confirmed, putting both her feet on his hips and sliding them down his sides, smirking as his trousers slipped down his legs.
Oh, he was going to make her pay.
:: :: ::
The citizens of Hogsmeade had given him a podium, a small box to stand on so they could all see his face. They'd gathered around it, in their winter cloaks and hands wrapped into gloves to fight off the winter chill.
"On the box boy." A man said, pointing with his wand to the small wooden stand. He nodded, striding over to it, and standing up on it, keeping his hands out of his pockets in a show of sincerity. He would mean this apology. Even if it killed him.
"I am sorry Madam Rosmerta," he said looking out at the gathered faces, full of spite, and glee. "I am sorry I placed you under the imperious curse. I am sorry I placed you into dangerous situations, and jeopardised your health and safety. I am sorry I took away your ability to choose how you lived your life. I should never have done what I did, especially considering the consequence to your life, and those of the people of Hogsmeade. I am; genuinely, sorry." He finished, hoping he'd been sincere enough to settle the riot that had been threatening to spill on to the streets. His bitterness rose in his chest, making the taste on his tongue vile and rough. His mouth dry.
The press were there, gathered with their infernal flashbulbs, bursting; capturing his soul and aiming to spread it over the front pages of their magazines. Potter and Ginny were there, her arm slipped through his; ironically she was the image of a perfect pureblood wife. She'd taken care over her usually carefree appearance, and was now stood with her left hand in the winter light, letting that lone diamond mark her territory. Potter was protective of her as usual, careful with the way he moved around her, yet he clearly respected her, an odd dynamic to their relationship. Hermione was beside them, the woman who had helped him dress that morning, who had behaved as if she were his wife.
The idea of it gave him a queer thrill; something he wasn't used to in the least. The whole thing was messed up, messed up beyond belief. Potter had the pureblood on his arm, and he…he had a mu- a muggle-born on his. Hermione was easier than Pansy, kinder, but still with that dangerous streak he hadn't ever really caught on to before. Somehow, everything was perfectly alright. She was easier, stronger and better than Pansy had been; the pureblood his parents had championed for him. She'd make an ideal wife they'd told her. Pureblooded, a good family, rich. Yet the person Pansy was paled in comparison to Hermione. She'd walked beside him in the corridors, her support silent but strong as the students pointed and stared, whispered and hurled abuse at him. Throwing taunts, and threats, despite the speech that had been given at breakfast that morning. Now he understood how Potter had been able to do so much with Hermione at his side. She was unwavering. Nothing seemed to scare her. She was the complete opposite of Pansy, muggleborn. Only she was better. So much better.
"That'll do scum." A man grunted, waving him down from the podium they'd built for him, Madam Rosmerta's tear stained face sober as she nodded at him. Hermione was right. Being sincere and addressing how he'd caused her grievance was the way to go. He swallowed and stepped towards her carefully, raising his hands so she could see he had no wand in his hand.
"I won't go into the Three Broomsticks again," he told her, "I don't want you to feel uncomfortable with me being there."
"It's ok," she sniffed, eyeing his hands warily, "I sold it, I'm moving away; can't be here anymore after everything…doesn't feel right."
"I'm…I'm so sorry." He breathed, the bottom of his stomach falling out from underneath him.
"Yes, you said. I believe you. You're just a kid after all. Teenagers never make the best decisions." She shrugged, and he closed his eyes, breathing a cold breath out into the wintery air.
No, teenagers never did make the best decisions. Probably time he started.
:: :: ::
"Malfoy!" Potter called, waving him over as Ginny gave him an encouraging nod. The youngest Weasley then tugged on Hermione's arm, saying something to her and pointing to furniture shop off one the streets in Hogsmeade. Hermione looked instantly excited, and the two girls vanished in the direction of the store. He trudged over to his oldest nemesis, feeling rather wary as he did so, an apprehensive knot weaving itself in his stomach. The last few times they'd spoken it had managed to be ok, not as hate filled and combative as their conversations usually were. To his surprise, Potter's face was filled with his own brand of apprehension.
"Malfoy," Potter repeated his name, offering his hand to shake as the press seemed to notice the two were about to talk once more.
"Potter," Draco replied, gripping Harry's hand and giving it a brisk shake.
"I've news and…an offer for you." Potter began, the awkwardness in his tone mirrored by the confusion in his rather green eyes, his hand instantly into his hair, lingering on his scar for a brief moment.
"Will I like it?" He heard himself ask as the cameras began to flash, around them. Harry looked instantly irritated, and he flicked his wand casually, and a brief hiss of white noise hit his ears before vanishing. "What was that?" He asked suspiciously, recalling the last time Potter had used unrecognisable magic.
"Privacy charm, they won't be able to hear what we're saying," Potter said briefly, before once again looking bashful. "I'm not sure if you'll like what I have to say, but I get the feeling Hermione would be very happy with it." He said cryptically, steering their conversation back onto the right tracks once more.
"What is it?" Draco demanded, feeling rather impatient.
"First off, your mother and Andromeda wish to spend Christmas alone together, to repair family bonds; Teddy will be staying with the Weasleys. Which means, you can either spend Christmas at Hogwarts, or you can spend it visiting…what's left of your father in Azkaban, or…"Potter swallowed, looking incredibly awkward, Draco narrowed his eyes, feeling his fists clench within his pockets. "Or you can spend it with myself, Ginny, the Weasleys and Hermione at my house."
Draco spluttered at once, his eyes widening in surprise as Potter looked increasingly relieved he'd managed to say it.
"What…" Draco breathed, unable to regain a sense of control over his stunned mind. "Spend Christmas with you…and the Weasleys?"
"Yes. The invitation to the Burrow comes from Mrs Weasley herself. Ginny has been saying how much you seem to have changed, and how she…she actually seems to like you now, and she hopes…she hopes if you see how a family as large and as welcoming as the Weasley's behave around one another…" Potter swallowed again, rubbing his scar instinctively, as if it were a source of comfort.
"What?" Draco found himself saying once more, as if it were the only word in the English language he was able to say comfortably and confidently.
"Ginny hopes that it will help you stay on the right track, because she thinks you have become incredibly important to Hermione, and Hermione means the world to her. Truth be told Malfoy, I'm a little wary about inviting you into my home, but Hermione speaks…she speaks really well of you these days, and if it makes her happy…" He trailed off once more, shrugging.
"So…is this, some kind of charity?" Draco asked feeling rather affronted all of a sudden.
"Not really, Hermione has hinted she'd really like to spend Christmas with you, but also with the Weasley's. She's been rather torn about the whole thing, because she can't be at Hogwarts due to her parents search starting in full. She wants to be involved with that, more so because she has all the information on them. This is the best way of making her happy. You can't spend Christmas with your mother because she's desperate to form a real family bond with Andromeda, and Andromeda has agreed. The Weasley family seem to be interested in seeing you on the right track and-"
"So it is charity then." He cut across him as Potter looked as if he'd been slapped in the face.
"Malfoy, are you thick. The Weasley's are offering you a Christmas, no strings attached. They're offering you a way in with one of the new highly regarded families in the wizarding world. Your family name isn't held with happy memories Malfoy, but the Weasleys…they're the new powerful family. They've all…well; all but Percy have an Order of Merlin for services during the war. It's not charity Malfoy, its kindness. You'd do well to start noticing what that actually is." Potter said brashly, clearly annoyed with him. Draco sighed, slipping his hands into his jacket pockets and closing his eyes as the flashbulbs seemed to thicken as the two men grew terse with one another.
"This will seem…random Potter, but do you remember how we met?" Draco asked him suddenly, his eyes staring intently at him.
"Yeah, you insulted my first friend and then said we should be friends. Didn't go so well." He replied and Draco stiffened.
"My father told me that you would be a stronger wizard than the Dark Lord, and that you would be the new one to learn from and follow. I was told I had to meet you, and find out what you were like as soon as I could, to then report back to him. That was the rumour in pureblood circles, the ones who supported the Dark Lord anyway, that when you arrived back in the wizarding world, you'd be the new Dark Lord; it only made sense. Who else could defeat someone such as Vol-vol…Voldemort. Especially as a baby. I told father that you were weak, and couldn't tell good blood from bad, you were no strong Dark Lord. I was wrong Potter. You are strong, always were rather gifted with magic. My family…we've always followed. Never wanted to sit in the seats of power ourselves, we've always been happy to pull the strings. That is where the real power lies. I don't want power myself, but I do want to change. For myself, my family name…and for…and for Hermione. I'll spend Christmas with you, and I won't make it a nightmare for you either Potter." He said sincerely, something rather true for the second time that day.
Harry offered his hand once more, nodding briskly.
"We said we probably wouldn't be friends back in Diagon Alley, we'd just tolerate each other. Probably an idea to change that now don't you think, if we're to be spending Christmas together, and…well I hear an interesting rumour about you, Hermione and Pansy Parkinson." Potter said with a devious smirk, a teasing note to his words. Draco grinned suddenly, grasping Potter's hand and gently slapping his other shoulder with his free hand.
"Shut up Potter," He grinned.
"Harry," Potter corrected, "call me Harry now." He said seriously.
"Then I'm Draco, not Malfoy."
"I'll let Hermione know you'll be spending Christmas with us Mal- Draco, and I have to warn you, we're re-decorating, so it's a bit of a mess right now."
"I think I can survive a mess, Po-Harry, we both made it through a war." Draco said pointedly as they let their hands fall, both of them smiling at each other, the air between them as if all their past grievances with one another had just been swept under the rug; forgotten, and let to melt in the river of time, to become nothing.