Disclaimer: Harry Potter and related characters are and remain the property of J K Rowling, Bloomsbury or Scholastic Books. Harry Potter characters, names and related indicia are trademarks of Warner Brothers © 2000/2001. No infringement of copyright is intended by this fic.

~0~

Part Thirteen: Interlude

"I was grounded

While you filled the skies

I was dumfounded by truth

While you cut through lies"

The Whole of the Moon. Waterboys 1985

~0~

Hermione rested the tome in the crook of her arm and traipsed down the corridor hearing the door of the library swing shut behind her and the key of Madam Pince twist in the lock. It was like this every evening, at quarter to eight the librarian would begin to push round a trolley and place books back on the shelves and by the time eight o'clock struck she would begin to tap impatiently on her desk until the last students left the library. Usually that was Hermione and Draco but tonight he hadn't come. It didn't surprise Hermione, last time they had spoken … She shook her head, not wanting to think about that right now. Seeing Professor McGonagall ahead Hermione quickened her pace hoping that the teacher would understand.

"Professor," she began hesitantly.

"Ah, Miss Granger," McGonagall's dour cheeks lifting for a moment, "How can I help you?"

Falling in step beside McGonagall, Hermione summoned as much courage as she could and; "Could I possibly have an extension for your essay?" she blurted.

If McGonagall was surprised it didn't show in her step.

"An extension?"

No gasp of amazement, not even a raised eyebrow but when she began to reply Hermione detected an unusual squeakiness in her tone, "But isn't that due tomorrow?"

"Yes Professor but I've been so busy with…"

With what? You can't tell her that you've been too distracted by Malfoy to even start it!

"Never mind Miss Granger, you can have two days, in all your time here you've never been late and if you need more time…" McGonagall sucked a breath in through her teeth as they turned the corner, "I'm sure you have a very good reason."

"Two days, oh thank you Professor, I…" that was him, turning up the stairs just as they had entered the corridor.

I can catch him and…

"I have to go. I'm sorry. Thank you." Hermione scurried through the archway not looking back at the bemused professor who watched where she had gone, tutting softly. But Hermione was too busy to care, listening to the set of footsteps that rang heavily down the stairwell as she tried to keep her own silent. She had an idea.

The exams are so close I should stay here. But with a few days…no libraries, no Quidditch, no distractions She stopped on the dark stair and leaned against the wall, it was a crazy idea, never going to work … but how do I get him to agree?

One more crazy idea, Hermione thought, picking loose the knot in her tie, with hasty fingers she unfastened the top button of her shirt and then undid two more, it might work…

She breathed deeply then squared her shoulders and continued up the stairs.

Had McGonagall seen him too, she wondered, doubt growing heavier with each step, I know she would tell me that he's not worth all the effort, and that's why I have to do this. Then I will know!

Pausing in the doorway Hermione watched as Draco released his Eagle Owl into the darkening sky. She moved closer, her feet crunching loudly on the small bones that scattered the Owlery floor, breathing deeply whilst trying to ignore the smell of decay and damp feathers that mingled in the air. As Draco turned from the window she stopped. High above them the occasional yellow eye blinked out of deep feathers and wings rustled as the birds dreamed of the hunt, unconcerned by the humans beneath them.

"Your robes are trailing in the dust," she said, angling her hips with her weight on one leg, she folded her arms, trying to imitate the picture of a model in swirling low cut robes she had seen on the cover of Witch Weekly.

Draco stepped towards her.

"Did you learn that look from Lavender?" he asked sliding his hand up into her hair and pulling her up straight as he kissed her. Draco drew back a little and tilted Hermione's chin to the left regarding her quizzically, "Or maybe from Pansy? She does a good line in impersonating a hussy."

Hermione flushed. It wasn't supposed to go like this, she stepped backwards wincing as her heel crushed a tiny skull into dust. "I wanted to ask you something."

"If you wanted to borrow my Owl it's a little late," he informed her, reaching out to deftly fasten one of the buttons on her blouse. A tingle ran through her body as his finger grazed her throat, "That's better, I don't want to wake up one morning and find you demanding payment."

"Don't be nasty! You didn't come to see me tonight and there was something I wanted to ask you. Listen before you say no I know it sounds strange but really it's a good idea, tell me what you think."

Hermione paused expectantly.

"What I think about what?"

"About coming to visit me at Easter?" said Hermione unaware that in her rush she had forgotten to ask the question, "There are so many things I'd like to show you. We could actually have some time alone together, you could meet my parents and…"

"Slow down," said Draco raising his hand to stop Hermione before the torrent became unstoppable, "I have a better idea, you can come and visit me…"

Hermione shook her head and with effort managed not to snort, she wandered past Draco to the window where she could avoid looking at his face.

"…I have some arrangements I can't change and anyway, my parents are never there. Are you listening to me?"

Hermione picked at her thumbnail, hearing the uncooperative edge harden his voice. Now the only unknown factor remaining was who would be the first to storm out of the room.

"Why is this such a problem for you?" he asked.

"Do we have to keep having this conversation?" she replied focussing on the pinprick of silver that hovered over the horizon. If wishing on stars was twaddle then she could lose nothing by asking this one to smile upon her dreams …but nothing could offset the staggering improbability of it all.

No, she decided, I can't let this one go! She turned back to him brushing back her hair with both hands, "Draco, isn't it all just a little too convenient?"

"What? That you just find it impossible to see just a little way past your own prejudices? I would say that is convenient…"

If you put it that way…

"… or are you calling my father a liar?"

I'm trying to forget that he even exists! she shrieked inside as she placing her hands over his, "Please Draco. My parents have never had a wizard to stay," she had to say something before their chance was lost, "three days, just before term begins. They really want to meet you."

It was partly true, they did want to meet her new boyfriend, she had just neglected to tell them exactly who it was …

"No wizards? Ever?" he savoured the words, finding something to his taste. "Not even boy wonder?"

Hermione let out a soft breath and curled her fingers around his. "Never ever." She could see him considering, calculating, he was going to…

"I still don't know," he said shaking his head so that his hair fell into his eyes, "I…"

"You're worried," sensing victory, she smiled and squeezed his hands, "I know you've never been to a Muggle house but Draco, it'll be fun and anyway, I sort of already told them that you were coming."

Draco sucked in a deep breath and looked down at Hermione, "There's a very ugly word for what you've just done," he said.

~0~

Not knowing quite how Crookshanks would react to her visitor, Hermione had left her cat in the care of Hagrid. She knew the gamekeeper wasn't really fond of cats, but she was also aware that the moment the door of Hagrid's hut opened Crookshanks would bolt back to Gryffindor tower and install himself by the fireplace until her return.

As long as he doesn't acquire any new pets in the meantime, she thought as she walked quietly beside her friends who carried her trunk between them, swearing loudly each time they banged their knees on the rigid metal edges.

"I can't believe you're taking yourself away from the library with exams what…?"

"Only ten or twelve weeks away!" finished Ron.

"I think she's finally got the right idea," Harry quipped, clapping Hermione on the shoulder and bringing her halfway back to reality, they had reached Hogsmeade already.

"At least at home I'll not have you two disturbing me," she snapped, "I might just get some real work done."

All around them students clambered aboard the train yelling to one another in an effort to be heard above the din of slamming doors and the thrum of resting engines. Between them Harry and Ron lugged Hermione's trunk on board then leapt down to join her on the platform.

"Take care," said Ron giving her a hug, "come back to us soon."

"You make it sound as though you think I might change my mind about coming back," she accused shaking her head, as he turned to grin at Harry.

"We should be so lucky," he quipped turning to grin at Harry.

"You think I'd let you off that easily?" retorted Hermione

The guard who stared pointedly at an enormous pocket watch began to stare at them before raising his whistle to his lips and blowing twice.

"Keep him out of trouble Harry," she said throwing her arms around him. "And Ron, you keep him out of trouble. Owl me if you have any problems."

A third shrill Phhhweeeeeeeeeeeee pierced the air and Hermione dashed forward before the guard sent the train away without her.

I miss you, she thought as Harry helped her up the metal step and Ron slammed the door shut behind her. I miss what we had before everything, I want you to know you can still rely on meYou have hours to feel guilty, just say goodbye, she told herself as she poked her head through the open window. "And both of you take care of Crookshanks."

"We'll Owl," called Harry waving as the engine began to rumble and the train edged forward, Hermione waved in return and tried to forget how much they would hate her if they knew how she was going to be spending her holidays.

~0~

Hermione lingered in an empty carriage, watching through the window while students and families crowded the platform waiting to filter slowly back into Muggle London. By the time she left her seat and dragged her trunk to the door the platform was almost empty, she tugged again but the trunk moved easily, she looked round and discovered that it was because it was hovering just three inches above the floor of the train. Draco stood behind it leaning against the opposite door with his arms folded; he tapped his wand against one elbow.

"Magic outside term time, Draco!" she scolded.

"Carry it if you prefer," and with a flick of the wand the trunk thudded back down onto the carriage floor. He took the other handle and together they lowered the trunk onto a waiting trolley.

She hopped down and began to push the trolley toward the wrought iron archway that curved over the platform. "Where's yours?" she asked as he came up behind her.

"Gone, I came back because I thought you might need some help. I knew you wouldn't know when it is okay to bend the rules, and when not." He slipped his arm around her and propelled the trolley forward.

"People will see."

"There's no-one left to see," he said whispering in her ear, "unless you count him." He jerked his thumb toward the end of the platform where between the porters pushing empty trolleys to and fro stood Malfoy's father. "Don't look so worried," said Draco, "there's no problem."

Her left hand tightened around the handle of the trolley and Hermione fought not to take her other arm from Draco's waist and dig in her bag for her wand.

"Just relax," he muttered, "I want to prove to you that there is no problem."

Do you enjoy making me uncomfortable? she thought casting Draco a venomous look, It's okay, you're in public, he can't do anything…she told herself, aware that they were getting closer and closer and finding her breath uneven as she recalled with utmost clarity the way he had treated her last time they had met.

"You took your time," observed Mr Malfoy softly.

Not so much as a glance, sweat prickled uncomfortably on her forehead and her blouse began to stick to her back where it was caught between clammy skin and Draco's arm.

"I was helping Hermione," said Draco. Mr Malfoy blinked slowly and turned his head to peer down at her.

"Ah yes, Miss Granger," Malfoy's smile disturbed Hermione more than anything else he could have done, it positively radiated warmth. She had never seen him do much other than sneer and she had to admit that the effect was dazzling, like the sun breaking through a stormcloud but it didn't warm his eyes which scrutinised her. Unperturbed by her silence he continued. "You will forgive me for being brief but my wife is waiting."

I ought to say something at least, she thought but he was already turning away, his hands linked loosely behind his back.

"My son will visit as arranged."

Draco stuck out his tongue behind his father and turned to Hermione, raising her hands to his lips, "Two weeks then," he said before kissing her fingertips and moving away.

Hermione's arms fell slowly to her sides as she watched them walk away making a mental note to write to the Church of England to enquire about that days weather in Hell.

~0~

Four days before the end of the Easter holiday, at ten in the morning a gleaming Bentley pulled smoothly into the tree lined road, the sheen on the black bonnet reflecting the spring sunlight so brightly that even the least observant of onlookers wuold wonder if the car had ever truly encountered the dust of the road. From behind its darkened windows Draco Malfoy could see shady gardens edged by overgrown hedges and wrought iron gates that hid crumbling Victorian villas from full view. It was clearly a road that had grown comfortable with its identity and felt no need to smarten itself up. About half way along the car slowed and pulled up alongside a gnarled lime tree surrounded by cracked uneven paving stones.

"Thank you, Garak," said Draco. As the goblin held the door he looked at the house fronted by a garden, "I'll take that," he said extracting his bag from between the servants long fingers, "My other things should be delivered directly to school." As the car pulled away Draco reached forward and pushed open the gate; it scraped alone the ground, deepening the rusty arc that scored the driveway.

With the battered Gladstone bag in one hand and a tired bouquet of roses in the other Draco approached the house. It wasn't home but at least she didn't live in the middle of some ghastly little suburb and though it might be faded the place possessed a memory of grandeur. Passing the window he leaned forward and shading his eyes with his hand tried to peer through; a blind blocked his view. Draco shrugged and continued on his way.

Mother would love it, he thought as a breeze played the trailing branches of a willow that curtained the doorway, bringing to his lips the tang of salt and an unmistakable hint of bladderwrack left on the shore for too long.

"Hello," he said to the knob that sat in the centre of the black painted door, "Hello?" tracing his fingers expectantly across the polished numbers.

No reply?

Draco's eyes roamed the frame, searching for the bell pull and then to the left he spotted a wooden panel in the centre of which lay a round disk. He made out the word 'Push' scribed in peeling painted letters, a remnant from when such things were new. Carefully balancing the flowers agaisnt his arm, he extended a finger and did this. Somewhere within a bell rang.

A minute, maybe two and he heard footsteps behind the door, the clicking of a lock and the door swung inwards. He saw Hermione.

"Draco!" she exclaimed blinking against the glare of the morning sun, before throwing her arms around him and nearly knocking him backwards off the doorstep, "Come in."

Draco tried to see beyond Hermione into the darkened hallway. It was cool and dim, lit only by dusty daylight that streamed from somewhere high above. She led him straight past a closed door to the right; through a connecting door and into a short passageway. To the left rose a staircase and ahead, standing open was the door to an airy kitchen.

"Most of the downstairs is my parents surgery, there's a separate entrance round the side" she explained, "It makes more sense than renting premises. We live on the other floors."

"Surgery? Are they medics?" he enquired with polite disinterest, dropping his bag with a thud at the foot of the stairs.

"No, they have a small private dental practice and Mum also lectures at the University Medical School."

Draco smiled weakly at Hermione. He wasn't about to admit that the concept of dentistry was not familiar. In his experience any competent Medimage could deal with all manner of maladies, no need to specialise in particular body parts.

"I brought these for your mother," he said holding out the yellow blooms. "From the Summer Courtyard."

"Lovely," Hermione took the roses and swept off into the kitchen. Draco followed, taking in the frozen images that decked the walls, wondering if this was her idea of revenge.

At the far end of the room was a conservatory stuffed with leafy plants and through these he could see the garden, that promised to be every bit as rambling as the house. A glass topped bamboo framed table stood here half hidden with papers, books and pens of both Muggle and Magical origin. He smiled appreciatively, and turned to Hermione who was filling the sink with water having already placed roses against its edge.

"I'll find a vase later." She said over her shoulder, "Sorry about the mess, it drives Dad crazy but Mum disorganises the place as quickly as he can tidy." pausing as if she felt an explanation was necessary, "They're busy people."

"It's fine," said Draco. Naturally without staff for that sort of thing a house would become a tip, just Draco never thought he would have been able to stand it but really he was quite amazed at the effect. The casual observer would have overlooked the copy of Fantastic Beasts that peeped out from beneath the papers, dismissed the copper cauldron as a fancy plantpot and assumed the robe belonged to a university lecturer…

Or does it?

Draco knew very little of 'normal' Muggles, like Mudbloods (present company excepted) he assumed them to be mundane creatures, ill at ease with themselves and the world.

He imagined that this was not a 'normal' Muggle house.

A blur before his eyes. Hermione waving a hand in front of them, "Shall I show you your room?" she asked mischievously.

"What?" his brow creasing in mock consternation, "Am I not sharing with you?"

"Draco, really! Don't say anything like that in front of my parents. Come on now," Back into the hallway. She grabbed his bag and before he could take it from her, led the way up the stairs.

"Bathroom," said Hermione as they reached the landing, "There's a loo downstairs too," she said as they went up three small steps to another hallway. "Living room is through there but we never use it much, this is my parents room and this is the guest room,"

Hermione pushed open the door to a small but bright room and stood back so that Draco could enter. A double bed stood in the centre against the chimneybreast and under the window on top of a chest of drawers stood a bowl of dried leaves. Against the other wall was a large oak wardrobe with an oval mirror on the front. Draco rested one hand against it, tasting the tinge of polish and mothballs in the air.

"I used to think that wardrobe led to another world," said Hermione brightly, dropping Draco's bag on the bed, "of course that's silly," Draco raised an eyebrow.

Obviously you've never been troubled by bogeymen, he thought, then drawn by the thrum of passing cars he tugged aside the curtain and looked down on the road, deciding it was best not to make an issue of that. Even the wizarding world was reluctant to admit the existence of those particular monsters.

"I want to show you my room." Draco allowed her to take his hand and pull him up more stairs and to a narrow L shaped landing lit from a skylight above. He peered down over the banister through sparkling dust to the ground floor while Hermione went into her room.

By the time he joined her, Hermione was sitting on her bed with one leg drawn up beneath her.

Though the window stood open the drone of traffic, so loud at the front of the house was muffled by the swish of trees in the back garden.

Glancing at the wallpaper Draco surmised that the room had not been decorated for some years, unless of course Hermione took secret delight in small pink ponies. In the far corner stood a large dolls house which was dwarfed by a set of shelves bursting with books that loomed behind it.

In the opposite corner was a wrought iron fireplace painted white and in it blazed a display of fiery red dried flowers. Under the window was a desk and when he looked at the stack of scrolls he smiled. There was no attempt to hide what she was, she attached no shame to the fact that she was a witch and he guessed that her parents must also be happy with the idea.

Most interesting he thought was the awkward juxtaposition of possessions. Draco suspected that before she arrived at Hogwarts, Hermione had to struggle between allowing her intelligence to show and fitting in with the other Muggles. Now her school things jarred against the Muggle things, he thought it bizarre but it was the Muggle objects that seemed out of place in this room. He chuckled softly.

"It just doesn't seem worth redecorating," she said demonstrating an uncanny ability, if not to read minds, to guess what he was thinking, "It helps when I come back to remind me not to be magical. We did get the fireplace in here unblocked, it's quite a feature. My parents had to sign all sorts of forms at the ministry but it makes things so much easier."

But Draco wasn't really listening, he leaned over her desk, eyes skimming over a piece of work and picked up the quill that lay across it, "You still use this?" Draco asked smoothing the feather with his fingers.

"Yes," he sat next to her on the bed and the too soft mattress bent beneath his weight. The corner of his lips pricked up, wonderfully aware that he was seeing a side of her that neither Potter or Weasley had ever seen. In this room was the true Hermione and despite the mugglish aspects he liked it.

His arm crept around her shoulders, "You never cease to amaze me, Hermione," he said, tickling her nose with the feather, "fancy trying to forget that you are magical, you can't ever deny…"

A door slammed.

"Hermione!" someone called, "You in? Has your friend arrived yet?"

Friend?

"Come on, meet my Mum."

"Perfect timing," muttered Draco as Hermione grabbed his hands and pulled him to his feet. He had wanted to stall her, he had never really been prepared for such a situation.

Forget they're Muggles, he told himself as he crept down the stairs in Hermione's shadow, Just pretend they're people.

Then they were back in the kitchen and Draco found himself staring at a woman surrounded by open cupboards and dozens of rustly plastic bags. As she looked up her glasses dropped off the end of her nose and swung against her blouse, suspended from a thin gold chain. She had hair just like Hermione's, unruly and held at bay with a biting plastic clip but tinged with grey.

Just people!

"Mum, this is my friend from Hogwarts…"

Draco glanced at Hermione, looking for some support, or maybe some unspoken signal on how to behave. In a moment the introduction would be over and then…

"… Dra – Dennis, Dennis Creevy!"

His head turned slowly, nausea building in his chest. With one hand he scratched his brow and the other he rested on the kitchen bench, feeling unsteady as the Grangers looked on expectantly.

"Nice to meet you Dennis," said Mrs Granger kindly, rummaging in one of her bags.

"Delighted," Draco spluttered, not quite able to comprehend what had just happened.

"Would you put these in the fridge dear." Hermione snatched the bag slipped round behind her mother and pulled open a large door. Draco stared mutely as she mouthed words that could have been 'sorry' or 'please' but he didn't really care about that, he wanted to know what the hell she though she was doing and he wanted to know very soon.

"Hermione talks all the time about her schoolfriends but we haven't really met many of them. So, you're the boy with the camera, aren't you?"

Draco's mouth hung open. He somehow managed to breath though he felt as though his head had lost the connection to his body and with it he had lost the ability to speak.

"Mum, that's Colin" Hermione said desperately, filling the silence.

"Oh, sorry Dennis," Mrs Granger smiled encouragingly at Draco as she rubbed her glasses on the corner of her blouse and placed them back on her nose, "So you're in the year below Hermione?"

Draco blinked, gagging as sensation streamed back into his limbs. He was hot and uncomfortable in the most mugglish outfit he owned and he had worn it for her, that snivelling little Mudblood who … He raised his hand from the bench and glanced down at the shimmering outline that faded as he watched before plucking at a spot of nothing on his sleeve.

"I…" he croaked, forcing himself to look at Hermione's Mother.

"No mum, that's Colin! Dennis is in his fourth year."

"Really, that must be nice." Mrs Grangers eyes flicked to her daughter than back to Draco "Are you in the same house as Hermione?" she asked as though not quite sure that he understood English.

"Actually…" Draco began, choking down the jet of bile that soured his tongue.

"Yes! Dennis is a Gryffindor too."

"And are Dennis's parents wizards?"

Draco had the feeling that this question was directed at Hermione not he. This charade had gone on long enough so unwilling to participate in whatever game Hermione was playing Draco cleared his throat and…

"My family are…"

"…Are just like us," Hermione interrupted snatching the last package from her mother, flinging it into the cupboard and closing the door with a bang, then frantically stuffed the empty bags in the drawer. "What time is lunch?" she asked, "I want to show Dennis the garden."

"Just let me know when you're hungry," sighed Mrs Granger.

Without another word Hermione grabbed Draco's arm and hustled him through the back door, he moved easily. At that moment the slightest breeze could have sent him tumbling to the floor.

The afternoon air was cool after the kitchen, Draco was dimly aware of Hermione's hand on his arm, his other hung limply at his side as he counted each soundless step across the lawn. Hermione led him through an archway in a wooden trellis draped with winding branches that that screened the far end of the garden from the house.

Enough.

A twist. Draco held her wrist firmly in his grasp, pressed against her hip. His other secured her body, tight against his, he glowered wishing that he could harm her just by glaring down into her eyes. They were misted by confusion and suddenly a hint of fear.

"Draco, you're hurting me," Hermione's body tensed as she tried to twist her wrist from his grasp and to pull him away with the other that reached uselessly behind his back. He responded by squeezing her wrist a little harder.

"Draco!" she gasped.

"But I'm Dennis," he snarled, feeling her shrink, "of all the things you could have done to me Hermione, you filthy piece of Mudblood…"

"Draco!"

"Just get away from me," he spat shoving her aside. He heard the gravel crunch as she fell and he stopped by a weathered wooden bench using every ion of will he possessed not to turn to her. "Bitch," he muttered sweeping his hand across his sticky forehead.

"Please Draco, listen to me," she begged, her feet on the gravel, coming nearer, nearer. He shrugged, reflex knocking away the hand she laid upon his shoulder. He turned.

"You are pathetic!" He breathed, leaning very close, "I heard you. You are afraid to say my name to that Muggle!"

"That Muggle is my mother," she protested.

"I told my father exactly who you were."

"Only because you had no choice."

"Nothing changes the fact that you lied about who I am," retorted Draco no longer willing to pursue that particualr line of argument.

"Please understand," Hermione lifted her hands as if about to touch him then she drew back, unsure.

"I understand!" he growled, "They don't even know about us, do they?"

"That's fairly obvious," she mumbled but Draco wasn't interested in rhetoric.

"Why Colin Creevy?" he questioned.

"Dennis Creevy," corrected Hermione.

"Who the hell is Dennis Creevy?"

"Colin Creevy's little brother," she confessed.

"What?" any remnant of cool Draco had kept evaporated, that was too much "A Gryffindor Potter worshipping sap!"

"Yes, no you're not that you're Draco. I love you, I…"

"Am ashamed to be with me," he offered, "Forget this, I've had enough. I'll make it very easy."

"Wait!"

Feeling Hermione hang heavily on his arm Draco stopped. He could fling her away and go and then it would all be done, no more fears, no more lies just a bit of good old fashioned hate and as he recalled they were very practised at hating one another. He caught a glimpse of her face damp, desperate and tried not to look, not to weaken, but she continued to cling just long enough for his anger to ebb a little.

"It's just what they know about wizards," she sobbed

"Oh yeah?" he said, loosening her fingers from around his arm. He held her hands for a second then let them drop, as his lips twisted into a humourless approximation of a smile, "Any particular wizards?"

"I don't understand," she sniffed.

"I thought you were supposed to be intelligent."

"Don't be horrible."

"Like telling your parents that my name is Dennis?"

"I'm trying to explain."

"Well this is going to be good." Draco sat down on the bench, hoping that the moss that clung to the frame wouldn't mark his clothes. Noticing that Hermione was about to sit beside him he swivelled round and stretched out his legs placing his feet firmly on the arm of the bench, the other arm dug annoyingly into his back but he considered that pain worth it if it added to her discomfort.

"I was about to say who you were, I didn't plan it but that name just slipped out and they know about you I…"

"Wait there! What precisely do they know about me?"

"Well how you make trouble for my friends, how you loathe anyone of Muggle origin."

"Is that all?" he sneered," and you had me thinking they'd heard something bad about me."

"They wouldn't understand."

"Your parents are so narrow minded that they wouldn't even give me one chance?"

"Everything I told them was true, how can I suddenly say that it doesn't matter anymore?"

"So, you can't forgive me for what I may have done in the past?"

"No, I could forgive you anything. I love you Draco. Please understand, you can't help the way you were brought up."

"Nor, it seems can you. It must be nice to love in such a black and white world, it's all so clear for you isn't it? Hermione can't tell her friends because they wouldn't understand, she can't tell her family because they wouldn't understand. What about me Hermione, what about Draco he doesn't understand, he doesn't understand any of this and particularly he doesn't understand why he was foolish enough to fall in love with a girl who places everyone else she knows so far above him."

"Please, that's not how it is. I'll tell them, I will."

"But it's never the right moment is it? What's it going to take before you can bring yourself to tell them? Marriage? The birth of your first secret child? I can't do this anymore. I will not do this anymore."

"I will tell them."

"When?"

"Summer, at the start of the holidays, I'll tell them then,"

"Tell them now."

"Summer."

"Okay," he agreed reluctantly, "But if you back out again I will tell them myself."

Hermione nodded forlornly as her mothers voice sailed down the garden;

"Lunch is ready!"

"Come here," said Draco standing and extending his hand to her, "You're a mess and we don't want youi mother thinking that Colin makes her daughter cry do we?"

"Why do you have to be so patronising?" Hermione asked finding it impossible to understand how he could swing so smoothly between rage and tenderness. She took his hand and wondered why he had given in so easily.

~0~

Throughout lunch Draco was reserved and sullen, he had not forgiven Hermione, no matter what he had told her and he had no intention of giving the Grangers a good impression of any Creevys. If Hermione chose to reveal who he really was then he might as well give them a reason to dislike him. Every attempt from Mrs Granger to draw him into conversation was met with a shrug in the end she gave up trying and instead proceeded to tell him at length about their experience 'since we found Hermione was a witch'.

"… We never really thought such things happened but what a fascinating world it is. There are all sorts of ways that Muggle families can make it easier for their magical relatives, if you can get the correct forms signed. But I'm sure you already know that. A bit bureaucratic, but so far we have an off peak connection to the Floo Network…"

I most certainly did not know that! Like her daughter, Mrs Granger had a tendency to talk quickly when she was nervous and whilst in Hermione, Draco found the trait endearing it made him want to hex Mrs Grangers lips off

"… a licence to grow magical medicinal herbs in the garden and a magical dampening field so that Hermione can do her Transfiguration homework during the holidays, that Mr Weasley has been a tremendous help."

Draco recalled that he had seen Mrs Granger once before. Then she had struck him as rather shifty but he had to concede that most people appeared nervous when they unexpectedly found his father peering down his nose at them.

"I'm sure," he said through a barely disguised yawn, "I hear they can make one roast chicken last a week!" he remarked smirking at Hermione.

"Really? Well, that's magic for you," replied Mrs Granger who appeared to be on the verge of enquiring further then declined.

"Magic, Yes." Agreed Draco flatly, Or poverty, take your pick!

Mrs Granger picked up an empty jug and pushed back her chair, "I'll get some more orange juice shall I?"

"What was that all about?" asked Hermione as soon as her mother was out of earshot.

"I'm sorry, if you'd given me time to rehearse for this performance I may actually have known who I was supposed to be playing."

"You promised to behave."

"So curse me!"

"Just be nice."

"I'm being Dennis. Don't blame me."

Hermione opened her mouth to respond but she was interrupted by the arrival of a neat little man who came in the room talking loudly.

"I just had to remove two of the Conrad boys teeth," he said, "his parents never listen. Next time I swear I'll just rip them all out and my work will be done."

Draco's eyes widened in disbelief as the man casually shrugged off his coat and dropped it on a chair. He looked askance at Hermione.

"You must be Hermione's friend," the man said pleasantly. Draco for his part wondered what sort of fiend he was looking at unaware that his hand was rubbing tentatively along his jaw. Draco forced himself to his feet and said.

"Hello Mr Granger." Shaking Hermione's father's hand with as much grace as he could muster. "I'm Dennis, Dennis Creevy."

"Nice to meet you." Mr Granger said curtly, his lips narrowed as if he had just remembered something he preferred to forget. "Hermione, I just saw Paul from next door he was asking about Saturday."

Draco raised his glass to his lips and slowly let the tangy juice flow over his tongue; he wasn't aware of any Paul … until now.

"I said I'd go and watch him play but that was before I knew you and mum had arranged to go away. We thought we might go back to school a day early…"

Did we? Thought Draco, that must have been a brief conversation because I don't recall having it.

"… we can get a train to Hogsmeade, it's not as fast as the Express and stops everywhere between London and Appleby but we should be there by dark. I asked Ron about it."

"That sounds good. We were going to suggest that you stayed here but if that's all arranged … anyway, I'm sure you both want to get back to see Ron and Harry."

"Oh yes," snorted Draco biting the inside of his cheek, seeing the opportunity to see Hermione without the Muggles interfering slip further and further away.

~0~

"Have you forgiven me yet?" asked Hermione later as they climbed the stairs.

"Who is Paul?" Draco asked quietly pausing on the stair behind her.

"Surely you don't think…" Hermione turned to look down at him and when she began to smile Draco felt a little hurt. "You're jealous," she accused.

"Why did you say we'd go back early?" he reached out and placed his hands upon her waist feeling the curve of her hip beneath the fabric of her shirt with his thumb.

"You should see your face. Wouldn't you rather spend the journey with me rather than in a train crammed with students? It takes hours and…"

"You're very cruel Hermione," he pushed his hands round to meet in the small of her back and drew her forward until they were standing eye to eye, "and I see now where you get it from."

"What do you mean?" her eyes were smiling but her voice was puzzled.

"Your father pulls out peoples teeth, that's gruesome."

"It's his job, Draco." Hearing a step Draco jumped back and tried to look innocent as Mrs Granger appeared at the bottom of the stairs. "Mum, do you mind if I show Dennis your surgery? He's ... really interested."

Mrs Granger's brow wrinkled as if something was greatly troubling her, "Go ahead dear," she said, but Draco was left with the odd feeling that it was he.

Hermione led him down to the hallway and through the plain white door into a cream coloured room furnished with two sofas and a low coffee table. A desk stood in the corner near a door which appeared to lead deeper into the house. Blinds screened the window and though Draco had the impression that the room was designed to make him feel relaxed the muscles in his shoulders tensed, perhaps it was the lingering air of apprehension.

"They read do they?" he asked sarcastically bending to fan out a pile of magazines that lay on a low coffee table. He glanced for a moment at the bland manufactured expressions on the front of 'Hello!' He was not impressed.

"Through here." Hermione pushed open the door but let her guest go in first.

He recognised the garden, visible through the back window but all else was barely recognisable as the same house, this room was ordered and clinically clean. The smell was stronger here, astringent and faintly reminiscent of mint.

His attention focussed immediately on the chair in the middle of the room and he found himself wondering where the manacles were secured. A fearsome looking arm grew out of one side, this he swung back and forth before sitting down. From here Draco could see the contents of a bright steel tray that stood on a tall, wheeled trolley. He reached out and plucked one of the long, thin metal tools from amongst the array prodding his finger uncertainly with the tip.

"What are you laughing at?" he asked Hermione. She was somewhere behind him but he didn't bother looking round then a light flashed on above him and a high pitched whine droned in his ears, it was getting closer and closer. He shoved the light out of his way and saw Hermione standing nearby with a small and very precise drill.

"What the hell is that for?" he asked stiffly.

"Open wide," she said, "It's a drill … for teeth!"

"You're insane!" Draco leapt out of the chair and put the tall trolley between them, struggling to keep his voice smooth. "That's barbaric! You don't need to drill teeth or pull them out, you can grow new ones, everyone knows that."

"Not Muggles, Draco, they can't grow new teeth with some carefully applied Skele-Grow, they need to take care of what they have."

"Turn that thing off!" he demanded. The sound was making him feel sick and he had suddenly found a new respect for Hermione's parents, he would never had thought they had it in them. "And people pay them for this sort of torture?" he asked, recalling something his father had once told him, 'Muggles are dangerous, never forget that.' this was the most conclusive evidence for that that Draco had ever seen.

"I had no idea you were so squeamish," Hermione chuckled, "Anyway, mum does say that no one really wants to come to the dentist but half a day of toothache is enough to change anyone's mind." She squeezed the drill once more and Draco shuddered. "The marvels of modern Muggle medicine."

"You can keep it!" he said sourly.

~0~

"I don't have any money," admitted Draco as they stepped out into the misty Friday

morning, "any Muggle money that is."

"I have," said Hermione pushing up the corners of his mouth into the semblance of a smile, "You're really going to enjoy today."

"I'd enjoy staying here with you."

"Draco, what's the point of being here if you don't see it. I want you to see some of the Muggle world, you'll like it."

"I have my wand and I will not hesitate to use it." he shoved his hands deep into the pockets of the thick black coat which swirled around his ankles. Hermione had suggested he wear something 'more normal' but Draco had insisted although he knew that when the mist burned away he would regret it.

"Idiot, you don't need it."

"The right to carry a wand at all times was established in 1692 and I notice you have yours."

"Safety first," Hermione grinned, "Doesn't the rule only apply to fully qualified wizards?"

"I won't tell if you won't. Imagine if…" but before he could finish a voice interrupted, people in this town seemed to like yelling to one another. He watched as a stocky boy about their age ran up to the gate.

"Hermione," he said sweeping his hair off his glistening forehead, "Are you still on for Saturday?"

"Hi Paul, oh, this is Dennis, a boy from my school. Dennis, this is Paul, my neighbour."

A boy from my school?

"Hi Dennis?" Paul grinned, extending a hairy arm and offering Draco a broad hand.

Draco looked at the boys hand but didn't take it, he wasn't yet ready to befriend a Muggle. He merely nodded his head in greeting, casting a critical eye over Paul who appeared not to own a mirror. His sandy hair was dishevelled, he was sweating and he was wearing a pair of baggy trousers and a red top that he, Draco would never have deigned to own let alone wear in public.

"Great." Paul lowered his hand seemingly unaware of the slight then sipped audibly from a small plastic bottle he held in one meaty hand. "If you're staying with Herm why don't you come too? We're playing West Park."

Draco assumed that he was meant to understand what this boy was talking about but Hermione spoke before he had time to say anything.

"We go back to school on Saturday."

"Oh bad luck, I don't go back until next week. Give me a call when you get home for summer Herm, maybe we can pick up where we left off." As Paul winked Draco was reminded uncomfortably of Fink-Letchley, he had no intention of letting that happen again.

"We never started Paul!" replied Hermione, smiling in a way that had Draco reaching for his wand, if Paul didn't take his hand off her shoulder he was going to lose it, forget the rules about mixing magic and Muggles… never mind the … "We have to go. Draco, here's our bus. I'll call you."

Draco bit his lip and glared over his shoulder at Paul, saying nothing to Hermione, who appeared not to have noticed that anything was wrong.

~0~

That evening after dinner Mr and Mrs Granger made their excuses and went upstairs to watch television leaving Draco and Hermione alone in the kitchen. As the sky grew dark he saw something very welcome, probably the first 'normal' thing he'd seen since he arrived here. A large owl swooped overhead and perched on a trestle outside the conservatory before tapping on the window with its beak.

"Hedwig," said Hermione rushing to open the door. She came back and looked sheepishly at Draco, "They are allowed to write to me," she said plucking a few grapes from the bunch that hung over the edge of the fruit bowl and holding them out for the bird.

"Doesn't bother me," lied Draco, wondering what could be in the letter. "May I use that owl?" he enquired as an afterthought, "I didn't bring my own."

Hermione's hesitation did not surprise him, Potter's owl… "Never mind," he said anticipating her objection, "then may I use your Floo?"

"It's only for emergencies," explained Hermione, "It's very hard to get a none wizarding house connected, my parents went to a lot of trouble and I don't want them to lose the licence."

"Very well," Draco clapped his hands together and sighed, "I'll find a post office. I forgot to pack some of my books I only want to remind Mother to send them on."

"I suppose it's alright if you use Hedwig."

"No, you're obviously not comfortable with the idea of me sending Potters owl home." He leaned forward as if deep in thought then suddenly his face brightened, "I'll send her to a friend who can forward the note, that owl will never even have to go near my house."

Hermione seemed satisfied with that and returned quickly to her letter. He peered at her from beneath lowered lashes feeling that there was certain irony in this method of forwarding. He took a quill and a sheet of plain white paper. She was much too engrossed to see the words he scribbled before he folded the sheet in three and sealed it with a blob of wax. He flipped over the paper and printed an address on the front sending the owl on its way without another thought.

~0~

Draco stood back as Hermione said goodbye to her parents beneath the departures board at Kings Cross then offered his own stiff handshake then he and Hermione were finally alone. He placed his bag on top of her trunk and pushed the trolley through the crowd glancing at the faces as he passed, old, tired, ugly, lacking hope, lacking identity. He wrapped his arm protectively around Hermione's shoulder shielding her from the masses, all so obsessed with their petty insignificant little lives, he would save Hermione from all that, if she would let him.

As they boarded the train, drawn by a small puffing steam engine a crocodile of tiny witches and wizards trooped past, kept in check by the booming voice of their teacher. Draco winced at the sound and focussed instead on the elderly witch helped to her seat by a porter.

"I always wondered about that," said Hermione as she leaning against the window to the stream of scarlet cloaks blur in the distance.

"St Elpheges," Draco said tiredly, "and if I'm not mistaken those were the dulcet tones of Miss Hemmen giving them their orders."

"You know the place?"

"Englands foremost magical prep school. You didn't think we all stayed at home before Hogwarts did you?" he said struggling to get comfortable on the cracked leather chair. "Miss Hemmen is quite a fixture, actually I went there myself, until I was expelled."

"You were expelled?" she leaned forward, prurient interest flashing in her eyes.

"You seem surprised that I lived to tell the tale," which actually wasn't far from the truth, "It was no big deal, just a misunderstanding over a practical joke."

"What happened?"

"Promise you won't judge me?" but Hermione's look said I'm not making any such promise. Draco felt trapped, the train was pulling away from the station and Hermione crossed into the seat opposite and simply stared at him. He feared that she would continue to stare unless he told her his story, instead he began to study the crumpled headline of a discarded newspaper that lay beneath her seat.

"Well," she asked when he finally looked up.

"Okay," not willing to spend the next seven hours in silence he gave in, "I was on a school trip, very much like that one you just saw. Another boy and I got lost … actually we deliberately lost the group. We ended up hanging around Kings Cross. Anyway we were getting bored and two Muggle girls started laughing at us for wearing red cloaks. We decided to teach them a lesson for laughing at us. We told them that we were wizards and that the cloaks gave us special powers and that we knew a way into another world."

"I don't want to hear this," Hermione folded her arms and turned away.

"You asked me so you are going to hear it whether you like it or not,"

"I'll not listen," she said.

Draco was about to continue but as the train pulled out of Puddlemere and rain began to pour from the clouded sky, lashing against the windows a thin woman dragged open the door. After both she and her hat scrutinised the couple for two minutes she took the seat in the corner opposite Hermione placing a large red handbag between herself and Draco. From within she extracted a book and proceeded to flick the pages over and over irritably whilst eyeing her companions from behind it.

After hours of pretending not to look at one another the train pulled into Appleby and the woman stood up, straightened her hat and left the compartment, swinging her handbag into the door to close it.

"Well," said Hermione tersely.

"I thought you didn't want to hear it," he said doing a very bad impression of Hermione.

"I you ever want to speak to me again I think you should finish."

"It's a tempting offer but I'll finish. They believed us and we took them through the barrier to the platform, that soon shut them up. Then we hid and watched them try to get out. They were trapped and scared and we found it funny. Half an hour later our teacher came back and made us join the rest of the class. By then we were bored and had forgotten all about the girls. I think it was seven hours later they were found crying underneath a bench. They must have remembered who we were because at supper the headmistress summoned the pair of us to her office. Our parents were there," Draco pasued and bit his bottom lip, "I can still see mother wringing her hands, and we were both expelled. I was home by the end of that day."

"How could you do something like that, you must have known." She accused.

"I was eight Hermione, tell me you didn't do anything stupid when you were eight."

Hermione said nothing, she merely stared at Draco, unable to imagine how anyone could be so utterly unaware of the consequences of their actions. She blinked back a tear and looked down at her hands.

"I'm sorry I told you, but I thought you wanted to know me, even the ugly parts."

"What happened next?" she asked quietly.

"Nothing. I thought for a moment I might not reach my ninth birthday. wWhen we got into the car. My father just sat there for a very long time saying nothing then eventually he said that I must not take amusement in such things, that he had worked hard to keep the family where it was, to clear our name. He explained that such behaviour from me might undo all that work if it were to become known. He felt it was his failing that I did not understand." Draco shook his head and turned to look out of the window. "I had tutors after that."

Hermione raised her eyes, he was leaning away from her, his hair flopping into his eyes which she could see surreptitiously watching her in the reflection, he blinked but did not acknowledge her.

He was eight, she told herself, it was a mean prank but he's obviously sorry and he obviously didn't know any better. He trusted me enough to tell me, I can't condemn him for that, not after what I just did to him.

"Draco," she said getting up and taking the seat next to him reaching out to shift the hair from his eyes and to turn his face to hers. His jaw stiffened and did not follow her hand round, "I don't approve but I'm glad you told me, it can't have been easy."

"I can't change the past," he turned then and she saw his eyes, glittering and damp "or my family."

"You can tell me anything," said Hermione leaning her head on his shoulder she felt his breath warm in her hair as he pulled her close. She squeezed up against him as a tear battled it wa out and fell heavily onto his thigh.

"Don't cry," he said, "Soon we can forget all this. The pretence, the feigned hate. The summer, just like you said and seriously, if Father can understand then those two should find it a doddle. You will tell them, won't you?"

"Of course I will." Though she wasn't sure she meant it, she wasn't sure she could.

They returned separately to Hogwarts to resume if temporarily the pretence of hating one another. Easter had answered one question for Hermione, Draco was worth the trouble and whilst it would be difficult she could do it, couldn't she? Tell Ron, tell Harry and she had to make it up to Draco somehow, for what she had done.

Hermione smiled weakly at the Fat Lady and gave the password stepping once again into the Gryffindor Tower and leaving Draco far behind her.

~0~

Long before dawn on Saturday a strong wind blew beneath Hedwig's soft wide wings. She struggled on through the less than ideal flying conditions with a determined owlish pride. Out of the scrub, a cottage, once white appeared, dull and lifeless in the night, the windows hung open and it seemed deserted and looked as though it had been that way for years but this was the address.

Proving that the owls reputation for wisdom was unfounded Hedwig waited ten minutes, fifteen minutes, twenty but nothing stirred, she had hoped for a mouse or a rat or even a spider but here there were none. Puzzled, Hedwig unpicked the ribbon from around her leg and nudged the letter into position in the centre of the mantelpiece. Satisfied that whoever was meant to get the note would be along for it she opened her wings and swept once more into the blustery night.

There was a rat; a cunning rat who understood the danger posed by an owl or a cat. A rat who had the self possession to stay silent when one was near. The rat crept slowly out of the shadows and sat up on its haunches, craning up to see the letter high above.

The rat had once read a book in which a man believed that if he wrote the name of someone he hated on a piece of paper and locked it in a drawer something bad would happen to them. Back then he hadn't known quite how close to the truth such a belief could be; if one wrote the name of a person on a piece of paper and threw it into that fireplace something bad would surely to happen to them.

The rat felt a twinge of guilt as he looked at the letter and remained for a time in the safety of shadow gazing down at his one silver claw, but that guilt would pass, it always did.

~Fin~

In Part Fourteen: Between the lines … what motivates miraculous changes of heart. The Malfoys and the Ministry in abundance, Niccolo Machiavelli would have been proud!

Authors Notes:

This Chapter just sort of happened. Chapter 13 should have been 'Between the lines' but I think 20,000 words is just too long for one chapter. It made more sense to add an extra and end it at a natural end point. It is still unbetaed, but today I revised and took out most of the glaring errors (30.06.02).

Commiserations to my adopted country and Happy Birthday to my sister.

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