Reformed
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Goldensnitch18
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Rated M for Scenes of a Sexual Nature, Language, and Violence.
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Summary: Draco Malfoy is released from Azkaban and sent to Hogwarts for his eighth year where he has a year to show that he can be reformed. Hermione Granger, and her friends, are struggling to come to terms with what has happened to them and move on, but she has agreed to be Malfoy's Muggle Studies tutor anyway.
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Disclaimer: I am not profiting from this story.
Anything you recognize belongs to the great and mighty JKR.
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Chapter Eleven
Monday, September 28th, 1998
After lunch, Hermione practically accosted Ginny. The girl had started to stand, and Hermione had grabbed her arm mumbling that they needed to talk. Ginny had followed her, even if it was somewhat reluctant, until they were alone in an abandoned classroom. Ginny raised an eyebrow as Hermione performed silencing and locking charms on the door.
"This has to stop," Hermione demanded, as soon as she finished.
"What are you talking about?" Ginny asked, alarmed at Hermione's outburst.
"This. Us. We're supposed to be in this together, and I've barely seen you outside of the classes." Hermione's arms folded around her stomach.
"We're busy. Both of us. You're tutoring all the time, and I'm practicing. I'm Captain. I have rounds," Ginny explained.
"That's shit, and you know it. You're worse than Oliver, which I honestly didn't think was possible, and definitely isn't healthy. I know you … with Harry, but ..."
Ginny sighed deeply, the denial seeming to flood out with her exhalation. "I miss him," she whispered, "and then I feel like a lovesick idiot, but I already waited nearly six years for us to get to the same place, and then he left me, and now I've left him. It's bloody awful, and I want to be here, but it feels so pointless."
Hermione rubbed at her own arms as if she might be able to comfort Ginny somehow with the movement. "I know. I miss them, too. Both of them. They would be nagging me incessantly about their homework, but I don't think I would care. We're supposed to be best friends. Lately, it just feels like …" She trailed off, not really able to put her thoughts into words.
Ginny leaned back and nodded. "Yeah. We are really - Harry and I were struggling. It felt like we were - I don't even know how to describe it."
"Yeah," Hermione said, able to imagine the battle they had been facing. "I don't think he's dealing with any of it," she told Ginny.
"Are any of us?" Ginny whispered back.
"Not really," Hermione confessed. She pushed aside the images that flashed through her mind, evidence of her own failure to cope. "Could we, maybe, just try to help each other get through this? We need to not be alone."
Ginny looked out the window, and Hermione wondered if she was picturing the pitch, apparently her place of solitude in all this. "Yeah. I'll try to be better. I'll talk to Neville and Luna. Maybe we could set up sometime in the library to get together?"
"That would be really great."
"How are things with, uh, Malfoy?" Ginny's voice was hesitant.
"Oh, uh-" He kissed me. She had been thinking over the past few weeks, scrutinizing each interaction with this new knowledge. It gave new meaning to his odd behavior, to the cupcakes, to everything, every moment. How had she missed it? How could she possibly have been so clueless? And, how could it feel so right? It was one thing to extend an olive branch, to call him a friend, to invite him to the village for her birthday, but kissing him? Did he want to …
What did he want? Why would he kiss her like that? He saw her with Ben, and he kissed her anyway. What did that mean? Surely, he wouldn't kiss her like that if he just wanted to kiss her, and that was all. Would he? Would she want more than that? With him? She had no idea. She hadn't considered it until his hands were on her, and his lips were on her mouth, and it felt like something in the world had shifted, possibly even fallen into place, which was a terrible thing to think. She was seeing someone else.
Well, they weren't doing much seeing now that the school year had started, but there was something there, and Hermione had been trying to figure out what that meant. That was what had led her to this. Hermione was alone, far too alone, and she was worried that she was allowing that loneliness to color her interactions with both Ben and Draco. She needed to make an effort, to reconnect with friends, to be less desperate for the comfort of another human being.
"They are fine," Hermione answered finally after a few stutters.
Ginny eyed her closely. "Okay. That's good, I guess."
"Yeah," Hermione said quickly, not wanting to wait too long to answer again, but now Ginny seemed sure that something was off. "So, you'll talk to Neville and Luna?" she asked, attempting to change the subject.
"Yeah, this afternoon," Ginny told her. Hermione ignored her frown.
Friday, October 2nd, 1998
It had been four entire days since he had kissed Granger, pressing her up against the cool glass of the greenhouse. He hadn't spoken to her since. She had sent him a note at breakfast on Tuesday that she was not able to meet with him that day and then nothing. She avoided his eyes in class, and she seemed to only come or go from her room when other students were sitting in the common area.
He was not dealing with it well. His mind was so on edge in response to this that he was struggling to get anything done. Draco kept thinking about his parents, about what exactly they would say if they knew the way that Hermione Granger, Muggleborn hero, Potter's best mate, had made him feel. That he, a Malfoy, desired her mind and her body with equal energy because he missed her. Fuck if he didn't. He missed their daily meetings. He missed her voice. He missed her lectures. He missed her bouncing leg, and her teeth grazing her lip, and her small, short sparing laughs. She had become such an enormous part of his life, and he felt her absence more keenly than he had ever expected.
On top of this, he was driving himself mad with wondering. Was she with him? Was she in his room? Was she kissing him? Was she letting him touch her? Were they laughing about how stupid he was? About how he could never honestly expect that she would want to be kissed by him? But, she seemed to want him in return. What did that mean, exactly?
And, finally, what if she never talked to him again? Surely, eventually, he would find a way to shove her out of his mind. She was just a girl, and they were just … spending too much time together, but he needed to pass this test, and he needed her help. He should never have done it. He should have let her continue on, let her keep snogging that fucking -
Draco slammed his book shut, brushing a hand through his hair. "Fuck," he hissed under his breath, and Theo looked up, his face calm and collected as he watched Draco throw his tantrum.
"Are you quite done?" he asked. They were camped out in Draco's room. They had enlarged his desk, moved it out from the wall slightly, and begun to use it to study when they were both working at the same time.
"Fuck off, Nott," Draco snapped. "Go in your own fucking room if you don't like it."
Theo frowned, unimpressed. "Does this have something to do with Granger?"
Draco glared back at him.
"Yes, I thought it might. What did you do to her? Slip up and call her a Mudblood, and now she won't help you?" He watched Draco closely, no doubt documenting his every reaction.
"Something like that," Draco growled. "I'm never going to pass this bloody thing now."
"Have you considered, I don't know" - Theo waved his hand as if searching for something elusive - "apologizing."
"To Granger," Draco deadpanned. It wasn't that he had something against apologizing, he'd certainly done it quickly enough when he had offended her at the beginning of all of this, but that Theo would suggest it surprised him. Hermione was a Muggleborn. Nott was, well, the way that Draco was supposed to be. The way they had been raised to be.
"I fail to see your other options." Theo shrugged.
"I could ask for another tutor." He had considered this at length. It would allow him to avoid Granger, which would make his life simpler, and it gave her the out she obviously wanted.
"Who is going to replace her?" the other boy scoffed. "I can't think of a single person who cares enough about being noble to waste their time on you."
"Thank you," Draco grumbled.
"Well, you were in league with the Dark Lord," Theo told him, a smirk moving over his lips. "Most Muggleborns aren't crazy about you."
"I'm aware of this," Draco said.
"So fix it. Grovel to Granger and pass your test," Theo said.
"I'm not sure it's that easy." He honestly wasn't sure how Granger would react to him approaching her. He was pretty sure that if she was ready to hear from him that she would have reached out again, and she hadn't.
"Are you a Malfoy or not?" Theo snapped. "Make it that easy. I know the last five months haven't been the best of your life, but fuck Draco. Wake up. You're going to let Blaise fucking Zabini prance around here like he owns the place, and you can't figure out a single way to convince Granger to just suck it up for the rest of the year? I don't think so, mate."
"I don't give a fuck what Blaise is doing," Draco said, but something small, buried deep inside of him disagreed very much. Theo snorted as if he could feel it as well.
Tuesday, October 5th, 1998
Neville was scratching at his nose, and Luna was smiling serenely as they listened to Ginny. She was lecturing them about memory charms, and Hermione thought she was doing a fair job of it. Studying with the three of them was an adjustment, to say the least. She was not used to so many conversations, or laughter, while she tried to focus on her material. The three of them seemed to be much closer than Hermione had even realized, and she found that it made her miss Harry and Ron, and what they had been, even more. It was difficult to sit there, to listen to them, to witness their friendship. It hurt.
And, so, she stood. "Be right back," she said as she forced a smile. She didn't know where she was going, but surely she could find a book she needed. She fled, slowly, so as not to cause suspicion, but flee she did, moving through the stacks until she finally stopped to lean her head against a shelf.
She breathed in the smell of books, paper, leather, ink, and she exhaled a tiny amount of her pain. This was her home. This was her solace. These pages. They gave her comfort. They made sense in a world where nothing made sense any longer.
The hand at her waist jarred her, making her jump in surprise.
"Sorry," he murmured, and she let her eyes fall closed again. Shit. She had forgotten that she was avoiding people. "I've missed you," his mouth was near her ear, and she sighed softly in acceptance. Her body turned, and suddenly their fronts were very close. He leaned in, and she turned her face as subtly as possible to let him kiss the corner of her mouth. She looked around them to verify that they were indeed the only two souls anywhere near this shelf. I saw you with him.
"Sorry," she repeated his words back to him. "I've just been busy."
"I understand," Ben said, but his eyes didn't seem to smile with his mouth. "I sent you messages. I was worried."
"I know. I meant to respond. The week just got away from me." She smiled, her stomach twisting. Her mind trying to determine what exactly she was feeling, but she just became utterly confused.
"Well, maybe you could come by Thursday? Or this weekend? I want to see you." His fingers grazed her jaw.
"Why?" she blurted before she could filter her thoughts. His eyes grew wide. "I mean, what is it about me that you, well, that …"
"Oh." One corner of his mouth curved up into a grin. "You're so beautiful, and kind. You're intelligent. I just enjoy being with you. I think we work well together." She smiled. It was a good answer, surely. It was. She was just confused, just thrown off by what she had done to him. He had no idea.
"I'll send you a note later this week, okay?" She smiled again, her mouth starting to hurt with the insincerity of the entire exchange.
"I can't wait," he told her, and then he leaned in to kiss her again, one soft press of his lips against hers. It tasted like guilt.
Wednesday, October 6th, 1998
Everyone had gone home. Ron had left hours ago, his neck flushing as he admitted that he was having dinner at Lavender's. Harry was sure that there was something going on between the two of them now, even though Ron wasn't sharing any information about any of it. Harry hadn't been in a rush to get home. Grimmauld would be empty except Kreacher, and Kreacher was driving him mad. The elf was on him constantly about not eating or sleeping enough. He may be right, but that didn't mean that Harry needed to hear about it every day.
He placed his elbows on the desk in front of him and rubbed at his face. He ought to head home now, but he wasn't looking forward to crawling into bed, staring up at the ceiling, flipping this way and that, his mind racing with memories of the past, with thoughts of the future and what it may hold. He seemed unable to clear his head as he watched the minutes tick past. It had been after three in the morning when he had finally managed to fall asleep the night before. He was exhausted, but no matter how tired he was when his head hit the pillow, sleep would not come.
Harry had considered going to St. Mungo's. He may find some relief, but he was sure that would not end well. Someone would talk, and the next thing he knew, the entire Wizarding World would be talking about his inability to sleep. He considered going to Madam Pomfrey and begging her to give him some Dreamless Sleep. She might actually do it for a night or two, but then she would begin to ask questions, and he wasn't ready to answer them. Not for Pomfrey, not for anyone.
He didn't really have any work to do, but they were studying old case files in training. He had started raiding the extras, keeping himself busy in the only somewhat productive way he could think of. In some ways, analyzing old case studies seemed almost cathartic. It was almost like a high, a release of some sort, when he came across a trained Auror who had made a mistake, sometimes huge mistakes that suspended or ended careers. It wasn't that he found vindication in their mistakes, but instead a fellowship. These were fully grown adults, some twice his age or more, trained by the ministry to take down evil, and they fumbled. Sometimes, they got it wrong, just like him. How many times did he get it wrong? How many people had he -
"Harry?" The voice that cut into his thoughts was rough with exhaustion and surprise. He looked up from his hands to see the Minister, Kingsley Shacklebolt himself.
"Hey," he could hear his own exhaustion in return.
"You're not supposed to sound like that until they give you the big office," Kingsley joked.
"I have no desire for the big office," Harry said, trying to appear a little less how he felt.
"Sadly, they will force it upon you one day anyway," Kingsley replied. He grabbed a chair from the next desk over and dropped into it. "How is your training going?"
"Good. Everyone is really great," Harry assured him.
"They aren't giving you any special treatment are they?" he asked with a loud laugh.
"They try not to, which I appreciate," Harry told him. He honestly couldn't be more grateful for this fact. The Auror Department as a whole had tried very hard to make him feel welcome without making him feel like Harry Potter.
"So, what are you doing here so late?" Kingsley leaned forward to glance at the file. "Reading old case files," he said, answering his own question. "I used to love that part. Writing them, though …" He laughed again, and Harry cracked a smile. They had already been working on practice reports. He could already tell he was going to hate the entire process.
"You survived it," Harry said.
"I just tried to stay in the field as much as possible. Too busy to write anything. Worked out for me in the end, I suppose." Kingsley shrugged, and they fell into silence for a few moments. Harry tried to think of something to say, but just as he was about to blurt out something surely ridiculous, Kingsley spoke again. "So, I talked to Arthur the other day."
"Oh?" Harry asked, his stomach suddenly very empty.
"I had dinner at The Burrow. He seems to be a bit worried about you." Kingsley never moved his eyes from the moving photograph of a dirty man holding up Azkaban prisoner number. "And, then I find you here, alone. Should I be worried about you? As a friend." He added this last part as an afterthought as if it somehow wasn't the Minister of Magic asking if Harry was off his rocker.
"I'm fine," Harry told him. "Really." He knew he was lying, and he was sure that Kingsley knew as well, but the other man nodded and met his eyes.
"You let me know if that changes. I'm going to leave this in the big office." He lifted the envelope he had been holding which was sealed with the emblem of his office. He stood, leaving Harry behind to stare down at the image, lost in his thoughts about his own mental health at the moment. On his way back out the door, Kingsley stopped in front of his desk again.
"You know, you don't owe us anything," he said softly, and then he was moving again, his feet carrying him away from Harry.
A/N: I'm so glad that Dramione moment last chapter was taken so well! Sorry there wasn't any more for you here. *sigh* Hope you still enjoy all the angst.
Thank you so much for all of the love. You are all so wonderful. You make me so excited to be writing this story, so thank you! You are beautiful creatures. You were seriously cracking me up with your comments about Ben. I was dying a little from the cackling.
Also, I'm uploading this story on AO3 as well if that is more your style. Also, you can find me on tumblr as goldensnitch-18. Have a fabulous weekend, and I will hopefully be back Monday with an update. If I'm not … just want to let you know I have a complete Pansy/Neville fic that I will be posting starting daily on the 13th and ending on Christmas Eve. So, if that is something you may be interested in, watch for that and enjoy.
XOXO
Meg
