A/N: Now that we're getting to the end, I am flying through writing and posting chapters. I guess that's just how the game goes.
Chapter 25
Hermione had written Ginny back almost immediately, assuring the younger witch that there was no way she could be under an Imperious, but she should have known her old friend wouldn't have been satisfied with that. She wondered how Draco had made it out of that alley with his life, but she didn't want to draw any more attention to his last question. She would rather get lost in a blizzard and die before detailing the letter she had sent to the other Gryffindor witch.
Instead, Hermione resolved to writing Ginny later that night to ask her what the hell she'd been thinking, as well as what had kept the fiery red-head from cursing Draco to death. He must have said something that held merit, or the two wouldn't be sitting at Puddifoot's sharing an uncomfortable silence; one she planned on ending.
"May I ask," she began when her soup was half gone, "how your mother is fairing?"
Hermione hadn't been a supporter of Narcissa Malfoy's sentence. She'd been over the moon about Lucius, no doubt, but she had felt the Malfoy matriarch had done just enough to have found herself on house arrest instead of five years in prison. The brunette felt that the Wizarding World owed Narcissa something more for her cunning and courage, but the gavel had already dropped, and life was seldom fair. But Hermione did reckon that the woman could have gotten fifteen years as well, so there was also that.
Draco's grey eyes moved up from his book and bore into Hermione's as he answered, "As well as one can hope, given her situation. If all goes well, she has two and a half years before they consider early release, a blessing my father was not given. Knowing my mother, she will keep to herself and be out of there sooner rather than later."
"I hope so," Hermione said before dropping her eyes to her soup.
Looking at him for too long was making her dizzy.
"You do?" He asked, his voice sounding surprised.
"I do," she answered curtly. "I didn't agree with her sentence."
"Hm…" He hummed, and a moment ticked by before he asked, "And my father's sentence?"
She looked at him, her Gryffindor showing as she said, "May he spend all fifteen years in there."
The blonde's face became gravely serious as he nodded, saying, "May he rot."
"Cheers," Hermione agreed, lifting her tea cup and taking a sip. He grabbed his own cup and raised it before drinking as well.
The air was awkward again. The witch had suspected Draco wasn't too big a fan of his father these days, and she had to admit that she found some comfort in knowing the younger Malfoy was done standing behind all of his Lucius' horrid decisions, but it was still unfortunate the number of lives and relationships the war had ruined.
Nothing else was said again until Hermione finished her soup, wherein she asked, "You're going back to the school tonight I take it?"
"Indeed I am. I've had enough of the Manor to last a lifetime."
She nodded at this, sure she'd share his sentiment after spending five minutes in the old mansion, and she reached into her jeans pocket to grab the money she needed to pay for her food, setting it down on the table near her now empty bowl.
"I have already ordered a carriage," he went on. "I know you enjoy walking, but may I offer you a lift back to the castle?"
She bit her lip for a second before nodding. "Yes. I'll take you up on that."
Hermione, though she'd been too embarrassed to tell Draco what her letter to Ginny contained, still wanted to tell him that she enjoyed his company and didn't want it to end. But she didn't want to do so at Madam Puddifoot's, and figured a carriage ride was as good an option as any place that didn't have prying ears and eyes.
The odd pair had already ignored the wide-eyed stare of an old woman who had recognised the both of them during her own meal. And though they were the only patrons left, Hermione still didn't feel like confessing to her feelings in Puddifoot's sickly pink restaurant.
As they made to leave said restaurant, the Madam was sure to inform them that the shop would be closed the next evening, for she would be celebrating the new year with friends.
The two nodded, and left with pleasant goodbyes and thanks, making it out the door as Hermione said, "I can't believe tomorrow is New Year's Eve."
"Time flies, eh, Granger?" He asked, the two setting off down the cobbles as he took his black leather gloves from his cloak pocket and pulled them onto his hands.
She inhaled deeply before saying, "You can call me Hermione, you know. You do so half the time already."
"Picked up on that, did you?"
"Immediately."
"I should have figured. But you know that means you can call me 'Draco'."
"Now why on earth would I do that?" She asked, a smile spreading across her face.
"Because that's what friends do, isn't it?" He answered her question with a question. "I'd consider us something closer to friends than acquaintances at this point."
"You would?" She asked this as they reached the main road, and she looked over to see him nod.
"Of course," he said easily, but seemed to have an internal struggle while asking, "Don't you?"
She stopped walking at this question, because she told herself that this was it. This was the opening she needed to tell him the truth of what she felt, but it was like he knew what she was going to say, because he cut her off, saying, "You don't have to decide right now. We don't need to be friends, or anything of the sort, if you aren't looking to be so. I know I pushed myself into your world this past week, so I could understand if you need more time to decide if you want to keep talking to me when classes start again.
"Just know that," he paused, looking around in the falling snow as if he'd find words there, "I am grateful for the time you have given me. I've wanted to… to tell you that- um… That I have thought very highly of you for some time, and that the opportunities you've given me to treat you better since I arrived have been more than I could have asked for. Which is exactly what I told Ginny, and why I still have my life."
The witch was almost struck speechless at his confession, and may have stayed silent if she hadn't already decided to say, "I'd like to be your friend, Draco. I was going to tell you so before you left yesterday, but didn't make it downstairs in time. I was also going to ask if you'd, perhaps, like to spend New Year's Eve… with me?"
