IX
I don't want to be J.K. I'm not even jealous of her. Because I get to write hot Draco. Not pathetic bully Draco.
Having said that, Draco's hers, as are Hermione, Neville and the others.
If any of you watch Rock Star INXS, I imagine Draco looking somewhat like Marty. And it'll be him and me, up in a tree. Yeah, right.
Once again, go read Bry, aka "thatappleyweirdgirl", if you haven't already. I'll try to get her to post again soon.
"Granger," Draco said, "how good to see you again."
Hermione glared at him, ready to leap at him. She was so angry- he was one of them!- she couldn't form words. Her chest felt as though it had steel bars clamped tightly around it and her brain was washed with an immediacy she hadn't felt in years. Her hands flexed as the tiny part of her mind that remained rational fought to stop the rest of her from strangling him.
Neville cleared his throat. Hermione's furious countenance swung to him. He felt the small nervous feeling that had been slowly growing in his belly all day suddenly expand through the rest of his body. Hermione hadn't spoken, but her expression left him in no doubt as to her thoughts and emotions. Almost unconsciously- for what sane man would do so?- he interposed his body between her and Draco. "Perhaps we should all move inside?"
Uncontrollable hot anger can only be sustained so long. They'd been standing on the doorstep for almost a full minute with no one moving or provoking her and the hormones that had flooded Hermione's brain had begun to subside slightly as her anger chilled- not decreasing, just becoming more controlled. The sight of April still asleep in Neville's arms, rather than further enraging her- as he might have expected- caused a division in Hermione's thoughts that distracted her briefly, assisting the cause of her rational self. Now a more moderate anger at Neville took over. How dare he bring April near Malfoy?
Neville took her continued silence for capitulation. Nudging Draco ahead of him, he moved further into the house. Draco was moving backward, still looking at Hermione, but now for the first time he noticed the child in Neville's arms.
"That's a Weasley." He said. A statement, not a question.
"Actually," Hermione replied coldly, "she's a Potter."
Her ability to speak had returned with her ability to reason. She wouldn't murder Malfoy in hot blood on Neville's doorstep, but, by God, someone had better have a damn good explanation. She hadn't yet ruled out a cold blooded murder. And she had several good ideas- how could she have forgotten her wand in her anger? But then, she supposed, where was the satisfaction in killing him with a wand? She would be divorced from the action- like using a gun. No, if Malfoy had killed Ron or Harry he would die by her hands- choked like the dog he was. They deserved nothing less. She deserved nothing less.
Having satisfied herself with this vow, she was able to look around the room she stood in. It was a large, uncluttered space, not quite a lounge, not quite an office. There was a huge stone fireplace set in an internal wall and several very trendy couches and chairs in a red suede material – which didn't look particularly comfortable- grouped around it. The remaining spaces on the inner walls were lined with bookcases, most filled with files and boxes. The floor was polished wood and the large windows stretched the full height of the room on two sides, giving a view of the driveway and gardens. The roof was composed of a combination of wood and metal struts, with very functional lights set into it. There was no decoration of any sort, or any indication of an intention of comfort, but it was very fashionable.
Neville lay April down on one of the couches. Hermione immediately moved toward her, catching her unconscious form as she started to slide off the slick material. She tucked her back up again and perched on the edge beside her, her hands moving to smooth back the strands of red hair that had come loose from April's ponytail and pull her jersey tighter about her.
She looked at the men in front of her then. Draco, perhaps not realising how serious her anger was, had taken a seat mere feet from her while Neville remained standing with his hands gripping the back of another chair. Sensing that Hermione was focussed on them once again, he cleared his throat and began: "I realise that this is somewhat of a surprise to you Hermione-" her eyes narrowed, and he swiftly rephrased "- that is, rather, an unpleasant shock,-" now he glanced apologetically at Draco, but the young man's attention was focussed on the woman across from him, "- I, uh, had intended to tell you at a latter date, but" he rushed on as she opened her mouth to interrupt, "Draco came back from England much sooner than expected. Months sooner in fact." Her expression remained tight, but she nodded to continue, which he did with relief. "You see, Draco only stays here part of the time. He's based in England- where he has his own residence obviously- but his work- both officially and for us- often brings him to the continent and while he's here it's convenient for him to stay here at headquarters. There are advantages to living here while working for the DA- the same advantages that you're making use of. And beside that," he paused, then decided to say it- she'd have to deal with it sooner or latter- " Draco and I are good friends and we both live alone most of the time, so it does us both good to have the company."
Hermione had caught what Neville hadn't said. "You're saying that because Malfoy" he voice as it pronounced his name held echoes of ancient taunts overlaid by suppressed anger, "wasn't due back for the next few months, you had no intention of telling me that he lived with you" The final three words were pitched slightly higher and louder than the others. "Despite the fact that you convinced me to move not only myself, but April, in with you?"
Neville cringed inwardly. Put like that it did sound a bit, uh… tactless. But he really had intended to tell her… It had just seemed easier to wait until she was settled. He had been so sure that her moving in with April would be a good thing. Now he began to wonder about the brilliance of that scheme… genius and madness were awfully close…
To the surprise of all, Draco decided that he could defuse the situation. Sliding forward on his chair, his movement broke the gaze that Hermione and Neville had been sharing, bringing one angry pair of eyes, and one anxious, to rest on him.
"Granger-" Hermione's brow lowered still further. Undeterred, he began again; "Really Granger, it's not so bad. I'm only here at night, and I'll be staying for a mere week this visit. If you can put up with me for that long I'm sure that you and Neville can work something out before I visit again. You never know, it might actually be good to get reacquainted- I'm not the little brat I was at Hogwarts. You might like me this time round."
Neville almost groaned aloud. Why couldn't the prat keep his mouth shut?
Hermione stared at Malfoy. Anger mixed with an unintentional admiration for him. Not many people could speak so calmly and openly in the face of such blatant dislike. She wasn't sure how to respond. What should she say to such an open proposal of friendship from someone she hated- Malfoy- whom she remembered as hating her so much? Uncertainty increased her anger. How dare he make her feel guilty? She had every right to hate him! She continued to glare, despite the urgings of her better self.
Malfoy's calm façade faltered and she felt a stab of triumph in her stomach. Then her gaze swung briefly to Neville- he looked unhappy. Unsure suddenly- this was Neville's home, she shouldn't cause trouble, but he should have told her! She'd never have come if she'd known!- she decided to simply put off any further confrontation.
Making her voice icy, she stood and spoke. "April and I are going to bed- it's been a long day. We'll talk tomorrow." She bent over April and slid a hand under her, but before she could do more, Neville was there, offering to carry the child. Deciding that it would be sulky to refuse his help- but tempted to do so anyway- Hermione stepped back to give him room.
He stood, with April in his arms and led the way toward the door that that they had entered through. Draco stood also. "Granger-" he tried once more. "it really is good to see you again… I hope you sleep well." She glared at him and stalked out, not deigning to answer.
Hermione, for all her expressions of exhaustion, was unable to fall easily into sleep.
Her room was luxurious enough, opulent even, but all the comfort lavished on her body could do little to ease the uncertainties of her mind. Neville obviously trusted Malfoy, deeply, if they were close friends that lived together and he worked for Neville's DA, but how could he? After all those years of mutual hatred at Hogwarts? After Malfoy had tried to kill Dumbledore- had helped the Death Eater's to get into the school! Hermione could think of no way to exonerate him from those acts. He had done so many awful things to them all, what could he ever have done to repay the debt?
But then, the dislike hadn't been one sided. Harry and Ron had hated Malfoy as strongly as he had hated them. They had used any opportunity to embarrass him or hurt him, as he had done to them. Even she hadn't been innocent, punching him and taunting him, deliberately setting out to beat him in class because she knew it upset his parents- her brain one weapon with which she could always defeat him. And she had taunted his friends- Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle- as much as he had taunted her friends.
Yes, Malfoy had picked on younger students, but she guessed that belonging to Slytherin House was much like belonging to a gang- there was undoubtedly a great amount of peer pressure on Draco and his friends, from each other and the older students, to enact such displays.
They had been children really, imitating the behaviour of their parents, not comprehending the cost of their acts, self absorbed with their vision limited entirely to their own emotions, no more evil in their petty acts than the boys who gave April a hard time- who would undoubtedly grow into normal and even decent men.
They had all been children, and Hermione, with her rational adult mind, could look back on their actions of the time and see them in this light.
But what had come later… Regardless of the technicalities, Draco had been a Death Eater. He'd planned Dumbledore's murder, harmed innocents in the pursuit of it, and supported the people who had eventually fulfilled the deed. How could he ever be forgiven?
Draco lay sleepless upon his bed, as he had so many nights over the past nine years.
Guilt plagued him.
No matter how many times he had repented his foolishness, regardless of what his latter acts had been, irrespective of the reasoning and insight he applied to it- the guilt remained.
Those few short months, how long would he suffer for them? Would he spend the rest of his life trying, without success, to wipe away the stain they had left on his soul? And would people like Hermione Granger always help him to feel that way?
Did he deserve to feel differently?- Perhaps this was his true penance.
Oh he understood her. As soon as he'd apparated in that morning, Neville had begun to panic- though Neville preferred to phrase it "become concerned", Draco knew it was panic. He'd sat Draco down immediately to tell him that they would be having two more people live with them, which hadn't concerned him at all. Even learning it was Granger had caused only a mild worry that she would still resent him from their history- it caused him far more trepidation to learn that his other new lodger was a six year old child. A girl.
Then Neville had told him exactly why he was so "concerned".
Draco knew about Harry Potter and Ron Weasley of course. He even remembered hearing somewhat about Weasley's sister's death at the time- the press had lapped it up. It hadn't been common knowledge that Weasley and Granger were lovers.
It had been obvious that there was chemistry between them, as well as their deep friendship, during the Hogwarts years, but they had not begun a romantic relationship until after they left school. Even then, it had not been acknowledged outside of their close friends and family, because by that point the press were out for any gossip about Harry Potter and his nearest and dearest, regardless of how trivial that gossip was.
And, of course, Draco had been well out of the country by that point, and even further out of contact.
From what Neville had explained, Granger and Weasley had in fact been deeply committed to each other. If he hadn't died they would undoubtedly have been married at the end of the war- or perhaps before.
Hermione had been there when Weasley and Potter had been tortured and murdered by Death Eaters. She had escaped physically unscathed but with mental scarring that had never healed. The loss of her lover and friend in such circumstances, and so soon after the death of both her parents in a car crash, had caused her to withdraw into herself, spurning the efforts of her friends to reach her. They had been seriously concerned for her, worried she would do harm to herself. Then she had disappeared and they had all secretly feared the worst.
When Neville had found her again the first time, he had only had time to assure himself that she was well and able to care for the child. It had been obvious to him that she was still deeply immersed in her grief, but it had been only a year after all.
This time, having found her again, he had spent enough time with her to learn that grief wasn't the only emotion that had haunted her for nearly seven years. Deep within her was a rage that had never been unleashed, an anger that waited for its designated target. Neville knew Hermione wanted vengeance on Voldemort and his supporters- he just worried that she would think of Draco as one of them.
Draco didn't think of himself as a Death Eater any longer. It was not a moniker that could apply to him. Yes, he had made mistakes that he bitterly regretted as a boy, but the man he was now was a different person and the people who mattered knew that.
But how could Hermione? She had never spent time with this new him. She didn't know what he had done for the DA or, independently, before that. She saw only the face that had sneered in such hatred during their adolescence. The face that she associated so strongly with the death of Dumbledore and the wounding of Bill Weasley. The face that she had assumed had been present on that awful day that had so decimated her life. The man that she believed had partaken in the death of the one she had thought her soul mate- her love.
No, Draco could not blame Hermione for her hatred.