Chapter Three
The week leading up to training was spent using her considerable savings fund to buy everything that she had left behind her in the UK. This meant re-stocking her wardrobe with clothes, buying new books and quills and other necessary items. The wizarding strip in Melbourne City was called Merlin's Lane and was well stocked for the majority of her needs.
She walked past a pet shop, her arms laden with bags and paused. There was a little ginger kitten sitting in a display of the window and her heart clenched.
Her own ginger cat, Crookshanks, passed away peacefully in his sleep some four years before and she missed him terribly. The kitten mewed at her and she went to take a step towards the shop before remembering herself.
There was no way she could buy a kitten while still living with her parents.
"If you're still here in a few weeks when I'm all set up, I'll come back for you," she whispered, knowing that the kitten couldn't hear her anyway.
She continued on her way, checking out the shops as she walked past. Her whole body felt different in the week being there. She now had a sense of purpose, something to look forward to and it was so invigorating. There was now a bounce to her step and she was starting to feel more alive and herself than she had in years.
She had thought about calling Harry and telling him about Malfoy but realised that if she did that, she could not only compromise him but also her chance of an exciting new career. So she decided to leave it for now. What good would it do anyway? Besides that, she was a little angry at him for lying to all of them for all this time. Not just about his job, but about Malfoy as well.
I mean, it's not like we would have gone off tattling to death eaters, she thought spitefully.
As she re-entered muggle Melbourne, she walked down the hill towards a shopping precinct. A noticeboard of a real-estate agency caught her eye and she turned back. There was a flat for rent, in the city. A top floor apartment with roof access to a shared community garden of sorts. She knew she couldn't stay at her parents forever, and with the job in the city, she could get more exercise by walking to the ministry instead of apparating. There was no point in delaying the inevitable.
She took down the number of the agent and decided she would call them later.
The apartment had three bedrooms, a spacious and airy living room area and an open kitchen, with large windows overlooking the city. The rent was well within her range as well, and after filling in the paperwork with her mother's details, confunded the agent into believing she was Monica. She would have had too much trouble otherwise as she didn't have a muggle job and income.
Her parents were over the moon that she had decided to move more permanently, even though they would miss her in their spare room. She knew that she couldn't impose on their independence, but promised she would be there every weekend she could for dinner. It felt good, knowing that she could visit them whenever she wanted, rather than only being able to chat over the internet.
Hermione looked around her new bedroom, mentally measuring and arranging imaginary furniture. She had wooden floorboards beneath her feet, the walls surrounding her was painted a dark teal green. This room also featured a reasonable sized rectangular black framed window, that let in a considerable amount of natural light. She preferred this over candles or artificial lighting and she could picture herself having a late morning lying in bed and taking it all in.
Knowing she needed furniture quite urgently, Hermione decided to take a trip back into Merlin's Lane. There was a tiny old shop there, hidden away between an overbearing apothecary and an overflowing bookstore, that sold miniaturised furniture for easy transport that she would only have to then perform an 'engorgio' spell on. She would never had noticed it, had she not checked out the stands of sale items out the front of the bookstore first. She had a quick peak inside and tucked the bit of knowledge about the store into the back of her mind for when she needed it.
Hermione left her bedroom and checked that the front door was locked, before apparating. The lane was busier today, probably due to the cooler weather – relief for all, provided by a thick layer of hazy clouds covering the suns harsh rays. The city had the most unpredictable weather, it could be forecasted that it would be sunny for days, yet those days could still have a thunderstorm in the middle of them. She was wearing her new waterproof hiking boots, denim shorts, and a faded Nirvana t-shirt she found in a second-hand store – so she felt she could take on whatever weather Melbourne threw at her, as long as it wasn't too extreme.
As Hermione walked down the lane towards the shop, she had to dodge the oncoming traffic. As she sidestepped a particularly eldery man, she ducked into the shade of a small giftshop, but lost her footing and started to fall as her toe had hit a dishevelled brick in the road. A strong arm struck out and caught her just in time. She blinked, unsure as to what just happened and looked up at her saviour.
"My, my, Granger. No need to fall for me in such a fashion." Silver eyes full of mirth met her own and she scowled.
"You wish, Mal- Draco." Hermione corrected herself as she straightened up. "Thank you for catching me though, you have impeccable timing."
"I would have done it for anyone, I'm sure." He brushed a hand over his hair, which she noticed was in a low ponytail again today. "Doing some shopping?"
"Yes," Hermione said. She looked around at the gift shop. "And you? Are you buying a present for someone? Anyone special?"
Draco stared at her blankly, a might confused by her question, before raising his eyebrows and turned to look at the store. Realisation hit him and he turned back. "No, not buying anything from the gift shop. I own the flat above the store, I was just coming down to grab something to eat."
"You live here?" Hermione asked, surprised. "My, my, how modest! No more mansion?"
"Well, when I came to Australia, I had no money at all to my...well, not my name," he explained to her. "All of my fathers assets were frozen when he was sent to prison. So, I moved into here when a friend at the ministry offered it to me and eventually I bought it off them because I liked it so much and couldn't be bothered moving." Draco shrugged and put his hands into his jean pockets. "Anyway, I am really hungry, so if you'll excuse me...unless – are you free? Did you want to join me?"
Hermione blinked. "Really? The Draco Malfoy asking mudblood Granger if she wants to join him for lunch?"
He frowned and corrected her. "No. It's the Damien Thorne asking his new attractive candidate if she wants to join him for a bite to eat...out of courtesy and kindness, which is exactly what he aims to exude. Catch up, Granger, or you'll give me away."
"Well, I..." she paused, slightly flustered. "I'm sorry, that was a bit out of line. I would love to join you for lunch, but only if you help me."
Draco shrugged again. "Sure, what do you need help with?"
"I've just rented a flat in the city and need to furnish it. I could use some help bringing the furniture home and setting it up." She looked up at him, her honey-gold eyes suddenly glinting in the sunlight that peeked through a gap in the otherwise cloudy sky, and were wide with expectation. She hadn't really meant to ask him to come back to her place, but she wouldn't mind some company on her first night alone in the city – even if it was her old enemy.
Draco tilted his head as he surveyed her. "Why do I get the feeling that you have the ability to convince people to do what you want, even if they had no intention of doing that to begin with?"
Hermione felt the corner of her mouth twitch, and she ran a hand through her hair. "Draco, if that were the case, I would be married with kids by now. Or I would have been able to free the house-elves in school. I think I have the opposite of that ability."
"Well, whatever you're doing seems to be working on me," he said, his eyes twinkling. A shiver went down her spine...was he flirting with her?
"Excuse me, can I get through?" A wizard asked pointedly, causing Hermione and Draco to jump, who then realised that they were blocking the entrance to the gift shop.
"I'm so sorry," Hermione exclaimed, grabbing Draco's arm and pulling him with her into the street. Draco stared down at her hand on his arm and then looked back up at Hermione. Her touch was unexpected, but surprisingly not entirely unwanted and he felt his heart clench for a moment. Whatever she was doing was definitely working on him.
"Shall we?" He asked, pointing up the street with his other hand and twisting the one she had a grip on so that their arms were linked instead. "I know a fantastic Italian place."
Hermione started, a bit surprised that he was willingly offering her his arm. She smiled hesitantly. "I love Italian food."
Lunch went by quickly, with Draco and Hermione making idle chitchat about life in Australia and the difference between their two countries, over garlic bread, lasagne, carbonara and a rather large bottle of red wine that they shared. Draco insisted on getting the bill, saying it was a treat for her first lunch living in the city. They casually walked over to the furniture shop and managed to select everything Hermione would need in her apartment in less than half an hour. Draco had an exquisite eye for interior design.
"I think you missed your calling in life," Hermione quipped to him as they left the shop, arms now full with boxes.
He smirked, "It's too bad I had to change my name and move countries. I think Draco Malfoy, Interior Designer, would have had a nice ring to it."
"Oh, be realistic," Hermione laughed. "If you didn't have to move countries and change your name, you would still be a rich, entitled snob who wouldn't work a day in his life."
Draco inclined his head to indicate that this may be true. "Only until I realised my true calling, of course."
"What's that? Draco Malfoy, Male Escort?" Hermione teased. "Or Draco Malfoy, Erotic Masseuse?"
He arched an eyebrow at her. "So you happen to think that my true calling in life must be something of a sexual fantasy? How intriguing," he drawled.
She blushed crimson and stuttered, "That's not...I mean...I'm only thinking of the rumours that were going around school in fifth year – Draco Malfoy, Slytherin Sex God."
He laughed out loud at this. "Slytherin Sex God? I can't believe that got back to the Gryffindors! Oh, if only Blaise could hear about this."
"Blaise? Zabini?"
"Yes, Blaise Zabini – the genius who came up with that rumour in the first place. He had a bet on with Nott that I would lose my virginity by Easter. He thought by spreading that rumour, I would have a better possibility at getting laid."
Hermione gaped at him over her box. "What an odd thing to bet about. And did he win his bet?"
"Joke was on him," Draco smirked. "I had already lost my virginity by the time they made the bet. I have no idea who with, one of the daughters of an acquaintance of my Father's. There was some event held at the manor, I think she attended Beauxbatons. But anyway, that rumour didn't hurt the ole reputation at all."
As they walked, they passed the same pet shop that Hermione had seen earlier that week and she doubled back, looking into the window. "Oh no," she groaned. "Oh bugger it all."
Draco pulled a face. "Maybe not the best suggestion in front an animal shop, Granger."
"What?" she twirled around, confused. Comprehension set in and she looked back to the window. "Oh, not bugger the animals, you dirty sod. There was a kitten here the other day and I promised him that I'd buy him as soon as I got a flat in the city. But he's gone."
Her face fell as she gazed back into the display window.
"You want a kitten?" Draco sounded bemused so she looked back and met his gaze to explain.
"I really miss my old cat, Crookshanks. He was this huge ginger tabby cross with a kneazle, with a flat face, and was a meany to everyone but me. And he was so smart. The kitten was a little ginger one too."
Draco stared at her. "Wait. Huge ginger tabby, flat face, with a chunk missing out of his ear and a scar across his nose? Ugliest thing you have ever seen?"
"Not ugliest," she poked her tongue out at him. "But yes to the rest, how did you know?"
"You mean to tell me that he belonged to you?" He looked bewildered. "The one that turned up in third year?"
"Yes, Crookshanks. He belonged to me, I bought him from Diagon Alley just before third year. Why the sudden interest?"
He shook his head unbelievingly. "That cat used to come and visit me when I sat down by the lake. He was there for me when I was at my absolute rock bottom in sixth year. He was probably my best friend at that bloody school. And the entire time he was Hermione Granger's cat."
Hermione's eyes widened. "He...he liked you? Really?"
"Yeah, I used to feed him tuna cakes that I swiped from the kitchen." Draco tilted his head back in recollection. "He'd always just pop up unexpectedly and meow at me as if he could understand what I was saying to him."
"No wonder he got so fat in that last year. Crookshanks had an uncanny ability to recognise trustworthy people. So if he liked you, he knew you were good from the get go." Hermione smiled, a little teary. "God, I miss that cat."
"When did he pass?" Draco asked, solemnly. "I always wondered what had happened to him."
"About four years ago. Wandered outside at night, we found him in the morning. Looks like he just went to sleep and passed away." She sniffled slightly. "It's the best way for him to go, I think."
"Well, you never know," Draco said, readjusting his grip on his tower of boxes. "We may find you a ginger kitty yet. There's plenty around here, and you know what they say – cats choose their owners. The right one will come to you, in time."
"Yeah, you're right. Come on, let's get going before we drop these boxes."
They continued on their walk and Hermione looked back at the shop one more time, her eyes full of sadness and yearning.
Draco collapsed onto the couch he had just enlarged and moved into place, sighing heavily. It had taken them a good two and half hours to set everything up, and the couch was the last piece. He took a moment to look around the room. The loungeroom was very open, and almost glowed in the afternoon light. The walls were painted cream, with one feature wall a dark red. It was on this wall that a television was mounted. Draco remembered the first time someone had convinced him to watch muggle television – he wanted to be anywhere but there. After only ten minutes, however, he was hooked. They had put on Die Hard, which they claimed was the best Christmas movie ever. Draco had enjoyed it very much, especially as the villain held an uncanny resemblance to his dear departed Professor Snape.
As Hermione hadn't fully moved in yet, there wasn't enough tell-tale signs about the place to figure out what kind of person she was now. He thought about how she was in school and sniggered. Bushy haired, goody-two-shoes Granger, always had to be right. How he had despised her then, not only for her blood status, but for her ability to easily beat him in every subject. He had always been a little jealous of her. Not a lot of people realised that the second top student at Hogwarts in their year was Draco Malfoy. And even if they did, they probably just assumed that his Father had paid the teachers to give him good grades. But it wasn't that at all – up until sixth year, he worked his butt off to keep his grade up.
Draco closed his eyes to visualise Granger how he remembered her. Hunched over a book in the library, her nose dancing near the edge of the page, a forgotten quill hanging from her lips mid chew.
His mouth twitched in amusement from the memory, when it suddenly changed and he had to remember to breathe when he saw her in his mind how she was now. Ten years later had certainly changed the both of them. Silky brown curls, honey-gold eyes like syrup, so deep you could swim in them, straight nose just the right size and the most luscious lips that she liked to nibble the bottom of when she was nervous.
He wondered what her friends would think of her trying to be friends with him, if they knew. It wasn't like he was desperate for friends – besides having quite a few casual friends from work, he just preferred to be alone. He hadn't let anyone get too close to him since he was put into witness protection, just in case something had happened to him, or he was recognised and had to move. He didn't think he had it in him to allow anyone too close only to have that torn away.
A buzzing noise distracted him from his thoughts and he sat up looking around. It was coming from the kitchen, so he stood up and walked over to the bench to investigate the sound. It was kind of like a vibration, and it seemed to be emanating from the strange, small, rectangular lit-up device sitting there. He looked closer and saw the name 'Harry' printed on the screen with a green and red silhouette of a phone handset.
"Hey, Granger?" he called over his shoulder. She had been making her bed while he finished up in the lounge room. She poked her head out around the door frame.
"Yes? Are you all done?"
He nodded. "Yeah, but there's this weird...thing...on your kitchen bench that's moving and it says Harry."
She came bustling over and looked down at it. She frowned for a moment, chewing her bottom lip, before quickly moving her hand forward and pressing the red handset button. The device stilled and fell silent once more.
Draco leant forward to examine it, noting the picture in the background of a red flower. "What is this thing?"
"It's a mobile," replied Hermione. "A muggle device used to call another muggle device so that you can talk without needing to be right next to each other."
"And you chose not to talk to Potter? Why is that?" He arched an eyebrow at her in question. Was it because of him? He thought wildly.
She twirled a stray curl from her pony tail around her index finger and her eyes quickly flicked down to the phone before meeting Draco's once more. She looked slightly worried.
"I...I don't know what to say to him. I'm worried that without thinking I might mention you, or his job, and then he'll know where I am and I just can't deal with him knowing because then he might tell Ron," she began to babble. Draco placed his hand on her shoulder to calm her.
"I'm sorry," he said, plainly. "I didn't realise my question would cause such a...reaction."
Hermione brought a hand to her face and rubbed at her eyes tiredly.
"I am touched," Draco continued. "by the fact you're so worried about keeping my cover secure that you're now avoiding talking to your very best friend."
She shrugged and said dryly, "I'm just excited about the candidacy. If I give you away then I may not survive it."
"Why?" Draco murmured and took a step closer. "Do you think that I'm going to go easy on you?"
Hermione shifted her feet uncomfortably, realising that he was now standing quite close. "Not at all. I'm just happy that I'm doing it with someone I know in charge, even if that person used to hate me."
She avoided looking at him directly in the eyes, but could feel his smirk staring down at her. She couldn't understand the effect he was having on her body, but she was getting tingles all over in waves from being in such proximity to him.
He barked a laughed quietly, before stepping back and breaking the spell. "You'll be the one hating me again soon enough, Bookworm. This time next week, you won't know what hit you."
She glanced up and flashed him a nervous smile. "Bring it on, Sex God."