They both sat in comfortable silence, in one of Draco's many dens. After Lucius was sent to Azkaban, and Narcissa committed suicide, Draco inherited everything. Both of them were in deep thought about what to do. Since they had been quiet for so long (an hour), it startled Hermione when Draco spoke.
"Do you want dinner?"
She hadn't realized how hungry she was until he asked. "Yes," she told him. He headed for the kitchen, and she followed. A House Elf appeared—female, wearing a pillowcase—and Draco told her to cook Roast Beef.
Draco turned toward the door to the dining room, and gestured for Hermione to follow him. They sat at the table, and Draco asked her what she wanted to drink. She responded water, and he pulled at his wand. "Accio two glasses and a pitcher of water." he said, and they appeared.
Once dinner was done, the House Elf brought it to them, and they ate. Draco watched her, and noted that it looked like she hadn't eaten in days. She probably hasn't, he thought to himself.
After they finished eating, he told her, "You can stay here, if you want. I'd give you a job, and pay you three hundred galleons a month."
She choked on her water. After she coughed for a few minutes, she gasped out, "Three hundred!" Draco nodded. "And what would I do?"
"You'd be a housekeeper."
She stared at him. He smiled back. "A housekeeper." He nodded. "Three hundred galleons a month, for housekeeping?" Draco nodded again. "Why are you being so nice? All I've ever done is belittle you, call you names, ignore you. Why are you helping me?"
He sighed, looked at the table. "I'm helping you," he said quietly, "because no one else will. I've been where you are. I know what it's like to be ignored, hated, feared. To be despised for something you couldn't control. If it is within my power, I won't let someone else go through it. Even if they helped make my life Hell, for a few years."
She replied, "Very well, Draco. I'll stay here, and work for you." They were quiet for a few minutes, contemplating how they would live together and not tear each other apart. Finally, she asked, "So you've forgiven me? What about the rest of the world? How are going to get them to forgive me?"
He shook his head. "Why do you want their forgiveness, Hermione? What does it matter? He knew you had a temper. He knew your power. He brought it upon himself. He saw what happened the last time someone enraged you. You nearly tore down the school, Hermione! If Dumbledore and Snape hadn't stopped you, you probably would have. He knew what you could do."
Hermione nodded, and sighed. "I know. I do. It's just... it's hard accepting that the entire magical world hates me. You know?"
Draco smiled. "Yeah, I do know. But you have to accept it. They will eventually forget about it."
"Really?" There was naked hope in her voice, along with a tiny amount of sarcasm. "Do you really think they're going to forget that I killed him? I killed Harry! I killed him, Draco. Their savior is dead, because of me! Voldemort will come back, and the world will end, and the Dark will triumph because I had a temper-tantrum!"
She was near tears, and Draco's Slytherin sarcastic side reared its head. "Actually, I highly doubt Voldemort could come back, considering the state he's in."
Hermione stared at him. Then she laughed. It was full-bellied, all out laughter, and it did her some good. Finally, she caught her breath, and said, "I'm going to bed now, Draco." She glided to the stairs, and paused to blow a kiss over her shoulder. "Good night, Dragon." She disappeared into the darkness of the second floor.
Draco stood by the table for a second, completely still. He was still a smidge frightened of the cleverest witch to ever grace Hogwarts' ancient walls. Ah, well, he laughed to himself, I'll deal with her in the morning. And with that last, happy thought, he skipped to the stairs, and went to his room. The minute his head touched the pillow, he was asleep.
REVIEW! (in eerie voice!)... ha, just messin' wit ya.