Hermione
Shell Cottage
April 1998
"It really seems like the only option," Hermione reasoned, sending a huff of breath from her mouth, displacing frizzy curls from the sides of her face.
"For you to polyjuice yourself as Bellatrix to sneak us into Gringotts?" Ron paraphrased back incredulously. The red head took a few quick steps, pacing the small bedroom that was part Griphook's room and part war room for their planning. "No way!"
"What else can we do? We have her wand and her hair," Harry argued, growing exasperated by the back and forth.
"Tell them we'll hand over Malfoy if they let us in, I don't know!" Ron tossed out, flipping his hand as if physically throwing out the suggestion. Hermione gave Ron an unimpressed appraisal.
"So do you want Malfoy involved or not?" Hermione questioned, feeling irritated.
The topic of whether or not Malfoy could help them in their quest, and whether or not he could be trusted even, was hotly debated among the group. Griphook was the biggest proponent that Malfoy could help with the vault, and Harry was strangely the biggest proponent that Malfoy could be trusted.
Ron was, unsurprisingly, the biggest proponent that Malfoy was a dirty little git and for that matter, why was he still even at the cottage?
Hermione mostly stayed silent on the matter, even if she did think he would be helpful to their cause.
"I don't know!" Ron threw his hands up in response, turning away from the group.
"The Malfoy boy will be a significant help for your efforts," Griphook spoke, reasserting his vote to include him in the planning. "If there are added precautions the Lestranges take to protect their vault, he would know better than I."
Hermione gave a tight look to Harry, who gave a tight look to Ron. After seconds of Ron holding the oxygen at bay in his lungs, he finally let loose a sigh and surrendered his shoulders into a slump.
"Yes, bring him in."
Harry got up and went to fetch Malfoy, leaving Hermione, Ron, and Griphook swimming in a tense silence within the small, stuffy room.
The door re-opened, and in came Harry with Malfoy, the blonde's tall frame needing to slightly duck to fit into the room. Malfoy stood in the entryway, the door now shut behind him, uncomfortably waiting for someone to fill him in.
"Malfoy, we're going to break into Gringotts," Harry stated simply. Malfoy took a quick breath and sighed.
"Of course you are"
"We need to break into the Lestrange vault," Harry went on. Malfoy moved his attention to Hermione for confirmation that what Harry said was true. She nodded, but felt flustered that he sought out her counsel for validation.
"And, I can assume that you've already discussed how breaking into the Lestrange vault is mental, but still plan to do it anyway?" Malfoy asked, walking to the empty chair next to Hermione and taking a seat, brushing lightly against her arm.
"Yes," Harry answered.
"OK," he took another breath. "And all of you will be a part of this mission?" he surmised.
"Yes," Harry answered again.
Malfoy took one more breath and nodded before sitting straighter in his chair. "I'll help, but only if I'm allowed to accompany the mission to Gringotts."
"Absolutely not," Ron interjected the moment Malfoy stopped speaking. "It will be too many people"
"Those are my terms," Malfoy finalized, his eyes flicking quickly to Hermione and then back to the group.
Harry looked to Hermione for guidance. She was in fact uneasy with the idea of Malfoy going with them. But not for the reasons she assumed Ron objected. When it came down to it, she didn't want Malfoy risking his life for a cause that was not his own.
Hermione cautiously turned to Malfoy. She noted their proximity, and how his arm was along the arm rest that divided them, with her own hand positioned close by.
"Malfoy, what we're going to do will be very dangerous," she explained, keeping her voice low, as if it was just the two of them. His eyes latched onto hers. "I don't know if you should go. This isn't your fight."
His stare didn't falter. "You're going?" he asked in a voice quiet enough so only she heard. She returned a slight nod. "Then I'm going"
Her eyes widened. Whatever this gesture was that he was making felt oddly intimate. Even though her body felt light all of a sudden, the logical portion of her brain contended that none of his actions made sense.
Harry cleared his throat, forcing Malfoy to break their connection. Harry commandeered Malfoy's attention and gave him a look that said, 'cool it'.
Malfoy, for his part, eased back into his chair in retreat. His body settled against the chair at an angle that put him closer to Hermione.
For good measure, and to make sure there was no confusion about terms, he added once more, "If you want my help, you'll agree to let me go with you. And I should say you do need my help."
Hermione had crunched her entire frame into the matching armchair that neighbored Malfoy's. Her hand still remained clutched onto the arm rest. More than once, her eyes flickered down to see how close her hand was to his arm and fought the urge to stretch just one finger an inch and connect with his sleeve.
She let out a sigh and refocused on Harry. Being around Malfoy was becoming a hazard. It made her feel like a lunatic.
But she would have to endure, because it was settled. Malfoy was now a part of their plan to break into Gringotts.
For the next few weeks, the four wizards and one Goblin immersed themselves into planning the heist, though, the whole mission was nearly kiboshed when Malfoy learned the leading plan to gain entry was to have Hermione impersonate his Aunt.
History was made in that moment, Hermione mused to herself, in that Ron and Malfoy were for once on the same page about something.
It took some convincing, mostly from Hermione, but after explaining the different scenarios, and risks of each, it was by and far the best path to gain access to the Lestrange vault, and Malfoy relented.
After a while, Hermione and Malfoy fell into a comfortable rhythm of planning, a rhythm that neither Harry or Ron seemed to be able to keep up with. The two worked very well together, their brains moving at the same pace, all the while covering each other's blind spots.
Over the hours and days, without it being intentional, Hermione found that after sitting for a bit, she'd find herself angled in her chair so her body was leaning into Malfoy's seat. It didn't seem to bother him, and Hermione noted, he made a point to sit next to her each day.
It was about a week into planning when the group hit a wall and decided to break early before Dinner.
"Malfoy, hang back," Harry called out to the Slytherin, his tone sounding more like it had when Harry spoke of or to Malfoy back at Hogwarts: cold and with suspicion.
Hermione, Ron and Griphook exited the tiny room, with Griphook hobbling towards the kitchen and Ron grumbling and likely going to his room. Hermione, however, decided to hover outside the door.
"You need to knock it off, OK?" Harry sanctioned, his tone razor sharp.
"I'm trying," replied Malfoy, sounding at a loss.
"The way you're acting is clearly messing with her head," Harry pursued, but his voice was already softening.
"I know, I know! But it just happens," Malfoy explained, his deep voice sounding confused, frustrated even.
"Let's get through the mission and then regroup. We may have to think of another arrangement," Harry said flatly.
When it sounded as if the conversation came to a natural close, Hermione scurried away before she could be found out.
After dinner, Hermione was restless. The conversation she heard between Malfoy and Harry was running on a loop in her mind. In general, she didn't appreciate information being withheld that explicitly applied to her.
The sun was approaching the horizon, but there was enough daylight to afford her a walk outside for some fresh air. The cottage was feeling cramped, and she needed to breathe.
Walking along the cobblestone path dusted with sand that would bring her closer to the ocean, Hermione turned over possible reasons for the conversation Harry had with Malfoy. But halfway down the path, she stopped when she noticed Malfoy sitting off to the side in the sand.
Before either of them could pretend to not have seen the other, their eyes met.
"Hey," he called out casually, but then redirected his focus away.
With his attention off of her, she observed him. He sat with his back against a large rock, knees pulled up slightly, his arms outstretched over them. His gaze had turned back to the ocean, watching the waves as they crashed out ahead of them.
"Hey" she replied coolly. He didn't turn back to look in her direction, and that infuriated her.
The best course of action would have probably been to keep walking. But his expression made it seem like he thought better of striking up a conversation with her, and that would not do.
From the path Hermione called out, "can I sit with you?"
A muscle in his neck tensed.
"Sure," Malfoy acquiesced.
Hermione made her way to him and shimmied down the large rock to a seated position. They sat side by side again, but this time, Malfoy made an effort to avoid touching her arm with his.
Her eyes strayed to the gap of space between them. The first thought she had sprung up and bubbled out of her mouth.
"Last year, during our detentions," Hermione began. Even with the space, she felt the air shift around him, "did you only talk to me to get to Harry and Dumbledore?"
When Hermione looked, Malfoy's head was cast down. Like it always did when his forehead fell low, strands of his blond hair toppled over his face. She couldn't tear her eyes away.
The silence persisted long enough to the point Hermione did not think she'd get an answer. So she pressed it. "Please Malfoy, I'd really like to know, and I think I deserve the truth."
He tipped his head back and drug a hand through his fallen hair. "you're going to get me in trouble with Potter."
Hermione gave him a confused look. "When have you ever cared about what Harry thinks?" His head rose, then his eyes turned to meet hers.
An encrypted message was passed from his eyes to hers, but she didn't have the means to decode it.
Thankfully for Hermione's wavering patience, he finally provided an answer.
"No it wasn't just to get to Potter and Dumbledore."
Hermione had a feeling, but with it confirmed, she moved onto her next open question.
"When the rumor came out, you only shut me out for appearance then? Because you're a pureblood and I'm a muggle born?" her voice became drastically more timid with the new question posed. He had looked away once again, only nodding in confirmation of her suspicions.
"I don't think I ever told you this, maybe I did. Honestly, last year feels so fuzzy to me at times, but I really did like talking to you last year," Hermione added, her voice now competing against the roar of the beach waves crashing.
He resumed his observation of her after a resolute bout of keeping his attention locked onto the sand by his feet. His jaw began to work. Then his eyes drifted towards her mouth.
Something powerful spread throughout Hermione when she thought that Malfoy may kiss her. The involuntary response to the possibility felt like a confirmation of something ill defined.
The buzzed silence grew to what felt like a force, and that force was moving her towards him.
Once she was close enough to where cedar and rain replaced the ocean breeze, Draco let go of a held breath, and moved ever so slightly away from her. She stilled, his body went slack.
"I enjoyed talking to you too," he finally said, moving his gaze out towards the ocean again, avoiding her lips and her face altogether.
While he remained determined to not look at her, she took the opportunity to admire the angles of his jaw, the hollows of his cheeks, and the almost ghostly pale of his skin. He was like a statue at a museum exhibit that she was prohibited to touch.
"Perhaps now we can be friends then," Hermione suggested with an apprehensive shrug. The proposition made his face contort. "Well now that you've defected, I assume you're no longer the model for the perfect pureblood, so one muggle friend wouldn't hurt?"
"Friends?" he repeated back to her. He sounded uncertain.
Hermione gave him a hopeful look. She enjoyed being around him, in fact, she was seeking his company out so regularly by that point that she would have presumed him to have told her to bugger off if he didn't want to be on friendly terms with her.
Not to mention, Hermione reasoned, that if they could at least establish the basis of being friends, then perhaps the confusing swirls of emotions caused by this unlikely source would subside.
"Yeah" she reaffirmed, "friends"
His chin turned down to cast an observant eye over Hermione. His features that had pulled together in thought loosened. "OK. Friends then."
She couldn't help but smile, and she was surprised to get one back.
"First order of business as friends," Malfoy started, his expression hardening. "As a friend I feel it is my duty to say that breaking into Gringotts as Bellatrix is a death wish, and I don't like it."
Hermione smirked. "Well then it's a good thing you'll be my transfigured body guard on the mission," She teased.
He kept an analytic gaze on her for a moment longer before sighing, "have it your way, Granger." He let himself settle deeper into the rock, and looked back out to the ocean. Hermione did the same.
Surprisingly, that was it. He didn't push her further on the matter. Harry and Ron (especially Ron) had a habit of arguing that she couldn't or shouldn't do dangerous things. It honestly felt like they questioned her abilities. So she found herself quite pleased with Malfoy giving her the space, and trusting that she was capable.
A comfortable silence extended out as the two stared out towards the setting sun. It looked hazy and dreary against the grim clouds.
"So do you like Shakespeare?" Hermione broke the silence, but kept her gaze forward on the ocean ahead. She felt him shrug.
"He's alright. Very dramatic though."
Hermione laughed. "That's kind of his thing." She let a beat pass. "Have you read any other muggle authors?"
There was a tense silence before he spoke.
"Jane Austen," Draco answered steadily. Hermione could feel him watching her.
It was that itch in her brain again. Plus, she wasn't utterly gobsmacked and surprised by that information, which confused her.
"You have good muggle taste it would seem," Hermione offered casually, not knowing what else to say amidst the torrential mess in her mind and heart.
The sun continued to inch down closer to the horizon, and with it, the tepid air was replaced with a cool, dewy breeze. Hermione brought her knees up closer to her chest, hugging her knees for warmth.
Malfoy moved, looking as if he was about to pull off his jumper for her. But she stopped him.
"Oh no, don't do that," Hermione said, turning towards him. His body stilled but looked as if he was going to persist.
"You're cold"
"If you give me your jumper, then you'll be cold" Hermione reasoned.
"No I won't," he argued in a puerile way. Hermione shot him a look and he rolled his eyes in retreat. "Do you have a wand?"
Hermione shook her head. "No, you?"
He shook his head. They were very ill prepared for an attack. And also, it would seem, for any type of chill.
Hermione's body involuntarily quaked with a shiver, and before she realized what was happening, Malfoy's arm was around her shoulder and pulling her into him. His body heat felt heavenly.
She turned her head enough in his embrace to look at him, and despite the kind gesture, his features looked hardened, like he didn't want to be doing what he was doing.
"Thanks," Hermione eventually muttered out. She was tempted to make an off-hand comment about how, 'friends keep eachother warm,' but it felt hollow; and boarding on untruthful.
And so they sat there together, watching as the sun set over the next quarter of an hour. When the sun was fully beyond the horizon, without discussing it, they both got up to return to the cottage.
On the walk back, Hermione felt a sense of calm cast over her mind that she had not felt for months.
Friends, or whatever this was, but being near Malfoy, made her feel whole. She still had to work out why that was though.
But for the week leading up to their Gringotts break in, Hermione would be satisfied with being friends, and whatever proximity to the Slytherin that allowed her.