Author's Note: No, I haven't died. Sorry it's taken so long to update! But I won't waste your time with petty excuses. Culture note: limonade is, as far as I am aware, the French equivalent of lemonade, and when you order it in a café (or, assumably, anywhere else) they serve you water and lemon juice and sugar and you can mix it up yourself. At least, I think that's the way it works. If by any chance you happen to be French, and I'm horribly wrong, then please correct me! Oh yeah, and "des histoires" and "des sciences" mean, respectively, "histories" and "sciences".
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own Draco Malfoy (*sigh*)... or anything else, for that matter, except (as you well know by now) the setting, plot, and librarian.
Hermione was on a mission. She was staggering down the street toward the village, a large, heavy package in her arms and a bundle of letters in her hand. She was on her way to the post office to mail Harry's birthday gifts and various letters to all her friends at school.
Reaching the post office, Hermione pushed open the door with her shoulder and went inside. She left her mail with the man behind the desk, paid the necessary amount, and picked up the mail from her family's P.O. box. Leafing through the jumble of letters, she found one that was addressed to her.
Hermione left the post office again and sat on one of the steps leading up to the door. She pulled her pocketknife out of her jeans pocket and slit the top of the envelope. She unfolded the letter inside, delighted to discover that it was from Ron.
Hermione,
I hope you're having a good vacation in France! Harry and I are practicing very hard for this year's Quidditch season. We both have day jobs at Fred and George's joke shop this summer. When are you coming back from France? You ought to stop by and see us. Fred promises that he'll give you a special discount, "just for being Hermione," he says. Will you be in London the Thursday before we go back to school? Harry, Luna, Ginny and I were all planning on going school shopping that day. I hope you can make it! See you then,
Ron
P.S. I hope this letter gets to you all right. The Muggle mail system is quite confusing.
Hermione shook her head, chuckling. Harry had told her once about the letter that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had sent to him. Almost every square inch had been covered in stamps. Needless to say, it had attracted the Muggle mail carrier's attention and had caused problems for Harry at home.
She stood up again, dusting off the seat off her pants. Her father had asked her to buy some orange juice and eggs while she was in town. She also wanted to stop by the library, since she had an entire afternoon to fill. Perhaps she could get some of her summer homework done.
Hermione started down the street toward the supermarket. She'd get the groceries first, then take them back to the villa and get her schoolbooks. She could spend the rest of the afternoon in the library.
Forty-five minutes later, Hermione was walking purposefully toward a brick building near the center of the village, her book bag hanging over her shoulder. She scampered up the stairs and pushed open the heavy oak door, over which sparkling brass letters spelled out the word "Bibliothèque". She paused just inside to allow her eyes to adjust to the library's gloom.
Tall bookshelves stretched away in front of her. They were arranged in rows that ran the length of the long room. At Hermione's right, the librarian looked up from her computer to give Hermione a distracted smile. Hermione smiled back and started down the long room. On the left, several doors led to various meeting rooms. At the end of the long room were several soundproof, two-person study rooms. Hermione made her way toward these.
She chose the room in the middle after peering in through the thick glass door to make sure no one was inside. She closed and locked the door behind her before setting her book bag on the desk. She switched on the desk lamp and sat down, ready to begin studying.
Hermione pulled out her Arithmancy textbook, a pencil, and her notebook. Her Arithmancy teacher would expect the assignment to be written on parchment, not paper, but Hermione could rewrite it when she revised it. She flipped the book open to the pages she had to read and started in.
^ * ^ * ^ * ^
Draco had definitely had better days. His depression from the day before was still plaguing him, and to top it off, the caffeine from the coffee he'd had had kept him awake until the early hours of the morning.
Fortunately for Draco, however, Lucius hadn't spoken to him about Voldemort's plans. Draco had yet to decide whether or not this was a good thing, since it could mean that Draco's part was very risky and complex. The other, less likely, chance was that Voldemort had rethought his dependence on Draco.
Draco stood in front of the house his father had rented, holding his bicycle upright by its handlebars. It was almost noon and he had absolutely no plans for the day, other than escaping the house. He had briefly considered going down to the beach, but he was eager to avoid that place after his incident with Granger. There was little to do in this village; nowhere to go, nothing to take up his time...except homework. Draco scowled. He was avoiding his homework the same way he was avoiding the beach. He had a star map to complete for Astronomy and essays for Potions and History of Magic.
Draco sighed, adjusting the books in his arms. He forced himself to mount his bike, then paused a moment to wonder where he should go to study. The café was too noisy and the park was windy and full of tourists. He didn't want to go to the beach, and he couldn't afford to study at home...
The lightbulb went off. At Hogwarts, his favorite place to study was the school library. This village had a library as well, and although it was almost half the size of Hogwarts' library, it had some very nice study rooms.
Still Draco hesitated. He really didn't want to do his homework. He had a whole afternoon, anyway, and there was still a good deal of time left before school started again. Surely he could at least stop at the café for an hour or so. He did have a good book to pass the time with, anyway...
He started pedaling down the street toward the café. He felt no absolutely guilt at putting aside his homework. Draco Malfoy was the prince of procrastination.
After chaining his bike outside the café, Draco found his favorite table near the window and stowed his books under the table, where no one would notice their strange titles. He summoned the waitress and ordered une limonade.
As he mixed his drink, he glanced idly out the window. To his annoyance, he saw Hermione Granger, who was seated on the steps of the post office across the street, reading a letter. She was smiling over something; Draco couldn't help but wonder darkly how she could be laughing at all when her life as she knew it was about to take a turn for the worse.
For one swift moment, Draco was tempted to run out of the café, grab Granger by the shoulders, and yell at her to get her family out of France while they were still safe. Hell, he wanted to help them get out himself, and perhaps even leave France with them, just to get away from Lucius.
But the moment passed. Granger got up and dusted off the seat of her pants, and started down the street. Draco was left with his spoon still in his hand, his limonade slowly swirling like a whirlpool in its glass, with a look of helplessness on his face as he watched a carefree, unsuspecting girl walking down the street.
Draco shook his head, fighting a sudden envy. How could he be envious of Granger? He was a Malfoy, and she was a Mudblood. Yet there it was. Granger, for once, actually had something Draco didn't (besides I.Q.). Innocence. Carelessness. And Draco was envious.
Draco slammed his spoon down on the table, attracting stares from the other customers in the café. He ignored them. Of course Granger was innocent. She had a lot going for her. She was a member of the Dream Team, who were on an eternal quest to fight evil and preserve innocence in the world. And there was also the simple fact that she was in France for a vacation, not because her father was helping Lord Voldemort plot world domination.
With a sigh, Draco let his worries go, reaching under the table to pull out a book. It was a copy of William Shakespeare's Hamlet, which had been read so many times that it was battered and worn. Draco always liked to read Hamlet when he was depressed; it reminded him that there were people with worse problems than his.
An hour later, Draco's glass was dry and he had finished reading Act One. He forcefully reminded himself that he had promised himself only one hour, and started to pack up his schoolbooks. As he exited the café, he squinted into the sudden sunlight. There, on the steps just across the street, was where Granger had been reading her mail an hour ago. Draco growled at himself, trying to stop his inner debate before it started. He bent down to unchain his bike.
Why was he suddenly so obsessed with Granger? he wondered as he started down the street toward the library. First he'd saved her life, then he'd wanted to get her family to safety, and now he was jealous of her, all within a period of three days. Or maybe it wasn't so sudden, he thought, remembering the Quidditch World Cup the summer before fourth year. When the Dark Mark had gone up in the sky, Draco's father had told him to wait in the forest until the excitement died down. While he was waiting, the Dram Team had shown up. Draco had warned Granger to get away, lest she end up upside-down in the air with her knickers displayed for any drunk Death Eater who wished to examine them.
Draco couldn't remember why he'd done it. It had just seemed a good idea at the time. Then again, saving Granger from drowning had also seemed a good idea at the time.
He stopped at the library and chained up his bike again. He stood there for a few moments, trying to clear his head. For goodness' sake, if he was that obsessed with the girl, maybe he ought to just kidnap her.
That stray thought, which was intended to cheer him up, made him stop. It was an absolutely crazy idea, but perhaps it was the answer he was looking for. If Hermione Granger was unavailable to both Voldemort and Potter, it might go far toward foiling both of their plans.
Draco went up the steps and pushed open the library door. This new idea of his would have to be carefully planned out. He blinked in the dim light of the library and gave the librarian a polite nod before entering the long room. He wandered down the length of the room, absently reading the signs at the end of each aisle, but not paying much attention as he passed "des histoires" and "des sciences."
One thing he ought to do if he was actually going to kidnap Granger, Draco thought distractedly, would be to gain her trust. He didn't really relish the idea of hauling her, kicking and screaming, halfway across the continent, and since it was summer holiday and it was illegal for him to do underage magic, that would be prove to be a problem. Of course, the idea of befriending the crazy girl, well, that wasn't something he'd do unless his life absolutely depended on it. Which, Draco thought wryly, it did, and so far he had no other plan of action. He sighed. Befriend Granger it was, then.
Draco reached the study rooms without realizing it. He looked in through the thick glass door of the one in front of him, and – surprise, surprise – Granger was sitting at the desk, paging through her Arithmancy textbook and writing something in a notebook. Draco was about to slip away, but it was too late; Granger had seen him. He sighed and opened the door.
^ * ^ * ^ * ^
Hermione was turning pages as she wrote, trying to find the answer to a particularly difficult question, when a shadow fell over her work. Surprised, she glanced up, and saw Malfoy peering at her through the glass door. She saw him sigh and reach for the doorknob, and her heart sank. Why did he have to bother her now? She needed to finish her Arithmancy homework today and really wasn't in the mood for a spat with Malfoy.
She scowled up at him as he stepped into the study room. She waited until the door was closed before she asked scathingly, "What do you think you're doing here, Malfoy?"
Malfoy chose not to answer, but instead became very interested in her textbook. "You're working on the Arithmancy assignment?"
"Yes," Hermione said shortly. "You didn't answer my question."
Malfoy looked embarrassed. "I was hoping we could study together."
Hermione was speechless. She stood and started at him for a few moments, then realized what she was doing and turned away, seething. "Why, so that you could copy my work? I'm not that cheap, Malfoy."
He seemed rather taken aback. "No, that wasn't what I was thinking at all! Look Granger... I – I wanted to apologize for being so nasty to you the other day. You didn't deserve anything I said then."
"But what, I did deserve everything else you've said to me for the past six years?"
Now Malfoy was just plain bewildered. "No, I'm not saying that at all-"
Hermione cut him off. "I'm sorry, Malfoy, but you've gone way to far for me to forgive you that easily," she said, her voice cold. "I don't know what you're thinking, but I'm not going to fall for any of your tricks."
It was Malfoy's turn to stand and stare at Hermione. "No," he said desperately, "I'm not trying to trick you, I swear! You've got to take my word for it!"
"Why?" Hermione shot back. She took several steps forward and poked Malfoy in the chest forcefully with one finger. "What have I ever done to make you think I'd take you word for anything? What have you ever done to make me think I should trust you?" She glared at him. "Here's ou answer. No, I will not study with you. Now kindly go away."
Malfoy, however, appeared to have no intention of kindly going away. "Look, Granger," he said with a slight degree of impatience, "It's all right with me if you won't forgive me for anything. I understand-"
"Do you?" Hermione cut in, frowning.
He ignored her interruption. "-and all I want is for the two of us to stop being so beastly to each other. I just want to start over between us."
"Why?" Hermione asked again, suspicious. "Why this change of heart all of a sudden?"
Malfoy shrugged. "You probably won't believe me, even if I tell you the truth," he replied, giving her a mildly reproachful look.
Hermione sighed, and forced herself to abandon her hostile attitude in favor of one of annoyance instead. "Try me," she said, crossing her arms over her chest expectantly.
To her utter surprise, Malfoy gave her an honest, genuine grin. Hermione was rather shocked. To her knowledge, she had never seen him grin before. And not only that, but he seemed to be laughing at himself, which was something altogether unheard of. "All right. This may sound incredibly weird, but ever since I...rescued you at the beach the other day, I've had several attacks from my conscience, and I realized that our, er, previous attitudes toward each other have been..." He stopped and shook his head. "Okay, I'm going to stop talking like some sort of psychologist shrink for a moment. Look, for the past several days, I've been thinking a lot, and I realized that I've just been really stupid. I should never have said anything hurtful about you, not ever. And at the beach the other day, when you were unconscious, I was actually afraid you might die, and it just put everything into perspective. I decided that I just want to try again with you." Malfoy paused for a moment as if considering his next words. "I might even be willing to apologize to Potter and Weasley."
By the time Malfoy finished, Hermione was standing with her mouth hanging open in complete shock. Had Malfoy really just said everything she thought he'd said, or were her ears deceiving her? Finally, she managed to stammer out, "Wh-why don't you meet me here again tomorrow at this time? I- I think I'm going to need a day or so to think this over."
"Sure thing," Malfoy said coolly. He turned and walked out, leaving Hermione alone with her thoughts.
^ * ^ * ^ * ^
Draco left the study room and found a separate corner of the library where he could do his own studying. His tongue could still taste the lies he had fed Granger, and his lips were tingling from his forced grin. He shook his head, smirking to himself. Getting Granger to trust him had been easier than he'd thought.
