-7-
HERMIONE spent the next week mentally reprimanding herself for ever thinking it was a good idea to loan a book to Draco Malfoy. Why had she done it? When their conversation had ended and they had both retreated to their rooms, Hermione couldn't shake the conversation from her mind.
"Doubt thou the stars are fire; Doubt that the sun doth move; Doubt truth to be a liar; But never doubt I love."
"I remember Claudius most. Fitting, right? I remember he had real moments of human emotions, between all of the politics and the sex, he shows he's capable of love and sincerity. Even guilt. Maybe I'm working on shifting from Claudius to Hamlet."
"So you think that you're becoming a Prince?"
"Not a prince. A little bitter and impulsive and maybe cynical, but…" he smiled, "a little virtuous tucked deep down somewhere."
It had sparked something in Hermione, their discussion. She had never – never – been able to have such an intellectually stimulating conversation with Harry or Ron or any of her friends, really. She loved books and, apparently, so did Draco. Apart from that, he'd read one of her favorite muggle stories. Draco Malfoy. Reading muggle novels. In what world?
So, instinctually, she had grabbed the novel from her bedside table, tiptoed from her room, and set out towards the boys' dorms. The charms to keep girls and boys out of each other's dorms hadn't been reactivated, so she made it to his room with no difficulty. She laid the book quietly in front of Draco's door, listening to his steady breathing, the heavy sound of a man deeply asleep. She pictured him waking up to find the book, delighted to read it and, feeling satisfied by her good deed, retreated back to her room.
It took her until the next morning to decide only in hell would Draco Malfoy want to read Hamlet.
She bounded out of bed, dressed quickly in her dressing gown and glanced at the clock on her bedside table. 10AM. There was a chance Malfoy was still sleeping.
Just as she had the night before, Hermione tiptoed around the corner from the common room and glanced around, checking that she was alone. Once she confirmed no one would witness her walk of shame, Hermione scurried back to Draco's door when –
"Shit, shit, shit," She whispered, groaning slightly. Her copy of Hamlet was nowhere to be seen and she would've stayed around to freak out about this revelation except that an exceptionally gravelly voice came from behind the very door she stood in front of.
"Is – is someone there?" Malfoy called out, his voice echoing through the empty hall. "Theo I swear to god if that's you trying to mess with me, I'll have your head."
Hermione could hear his footsteps grow louder as they approached where she stood, wide eyed and frozen. Panicked, she dashed to the end of the hall where there sat a door slightly ajar. She slid through the gap between the door just as she heard the brass of Malfoy's doorknob creak.
She could see him step into the hall through a small slit – she didn't dare close the door now. She held her breath.
"Theo?" Draco glanced up and down the hall, his face clouded in confusion. When he found no trace of Theo anywhere, Malfoy reached back into his room and withdrew a black backpack, which he threw over his shoulder and pulled closed his bedroom door behind him.
Hermione couldn't help but notice how Malfoy was dressed. He wore a black button-up that fell loosely around his stomach but remained fitted around his biceps. Despite the heat, he wore the sleeves down to his wrists. His black slacks ended at his ankles, where they met a pair of black loafers. He looked nice. She wondered where he was headed.
With one last glance along the hallway – Hermione instinctively took a step back further into the broom cupboard – Malfoy stuffed one hand into the pocket of his slacks and soon disappeared from Hermione's sight.
And for the rest of the weekend, she found herself avoiding him again, which wasn't a new practice for her, and turned out to be surprisingly easy. Even as she and Ginny walked through the Great Hall that Sunday to add their name to McGonagall's chalice – she wanted the extra pay from that weekend volunteer job and Ginny wanted a reason to solicit a position modification from McGonagall – Draco and his crew were missing.
Not that she was looking for him or anything.
So when she and Draco showed back up to work in the library for their second week, Hermione was filled with loathing, the kind which only occurs when one has thoroughly embarrassed themselves and is forced to see that person again. 5 days a week. For the entire summer.
However, as their Monday morning shift began, both Draco and Hermione acted as if nothing notable had happened in the common room the week before; that Draco hadn't stood up in Hermione's defense against Pansy, that they hadn't somewhat bonded over a muggle novel, and they went straight back into their routine. Dusting. Sorting. No talking. Business as usual.
Draco didn't so much as mention the book and Hermione, too embarrassed about the whole situation, didn't dare bring it up.
As they worked silently, the air in the library was thick with awkward tension. Their relationship was so uniquely weird that neither of them knew how to navigate a conversation with each other. Was she even interested in holding another conversation with him? She wasn't sure.
The silence was broken by the occasional swish of a wand and the never-ending ruffling through pages that their tedious job required. They would sheepishly excuse themselves for lunch and, when their shifts were over, one of them always uttered an excuse to stay behind so there was no possibility of leaving at the same time. And it was like this until the following Friday, when they finally finished sorting and organizing an entire corner section of the library.
Draco picked up the last book from his stack and inserted it among the other alphabetized D – E books on the shelf nearest him, then stood from his spot on the floor, dusting his hands on his pants. Standing back to admire their work, he turned to Hermione, wearing the biggest smile she had ever seen cross his face.
"I'm quite proud of that," he said, his stance that of a dad watching his child's first baseball game. He folded is arms across the chest, exaggerating the likeness.
"Well," she stood as well, stowing her wand in her pocket, "I think it's pretty good for 2 weeks of work." She pulled out a hair tie and gathered her thick hair into a low bun, allowing cool air to breeze her neck. As she began to tell Draco that she'd see him next week, she noticed he was no longer studying the shelves and seemed as though he was studying her.
When she met his gaze, she expected him to drop his eyes, embarrassed at being caught zoning out, but he didn't. He looked at her almost questioningly, but she couldn't even begin to guess what could be going on through his mind.
"I'll see you next week then, Granger?" And still wearing that same curious gaze, he grabbed his backpack from its spot in the corner and walked out of the library, his silhouette growing darker until she could no longer watch him leave.
Chills raked her body – a late reaction to Draco's sudden change in behavior. He was a puzzle, an algebraic equation that she didn't know the formula to solve.
When she met Ginny for their usual afternoon stroll to dinner together, Ginny was in slightly higher spirits than she'd been last week. Apparently, Lavender, who had previously only wanted to talk about how Ron was doing and eating and wearing and reading these days – she rolled her eyes when she said this – Theo had noticed that it was driving Ginny crazy and had begun scheming crazy topics of conversation that would take Lavender's attention off Ginny.
"His choice of topic today was whether or not Love Potions should be considered illegal and she jumped at the change to argue with him about it. Passionate, that one," Ginny laughed, most likely remembering the conversation she was speaking about. She sighed and continued, "Anyway, I'm glad Lavender's off my back. At least, for now. Slytherin or not, I owe Theo big time."
Hermione grinned, hoping this was a suitable reaction to Ginny's story, but she was stuck in her own thoughts. She wanted to tell Ginny all about her work day too, about the silence that spanned the entire week, the Pansy drama, the book. The weird look. She had kept it all to herself, because it all seemed trivial in the grand scheme of what they're meant to be doing.
This summer was meant to be focused on the Restoration project. Not about co-worker drama and deciphering Draco's unusual behavior.
This wasn't at all about Hermione not ready to face her feelings or past trauma. Not at all. A ridiculous thought.
So, Hermione's plan was to stick with asking Ginny questions so that she could avoid confronting her strange interactions with Draco Malfoy. As they sat in their usual spot at the table, Hermione was about to fire off another round of questioning, but Ginny beat her to it.
But Ginny's question wasn't about the person she had been expecting.
"So how are things going with my brother? He won't tell me anything, so you've got to give me all of the details," she smiled, raising her eyebrows suggestively.
Heat rushed to Hermione's face. This had taken her by surprise. Ginny hadn't mentioned Ron to her once since she showed up at Hogwarts. Why was she asking now?
Hermione took a swig from her drink, hoping her hair would hide her reluctance to answer. When it had been way longer than the appropriate amount of time it takes to drink something, Hermione put down her mug and answered as - vaguely - as she could.
"Oh, we're fine. Everything's – everything's good," Hermione stuttered, unconvincingly. She looked over to Ginny to see if her answer had been bought, but everything about Ginny's expression told her it, alas, had not been.
"Fine? That's what you're feeling after finally kissing your best friend of 7 years?"
"I – I don't kiss and tell, thank you very much." The heat of her cheeks could surely boil water. It was awkward enough to talk about kissing her best friend, but to talk about it with his sister just felt…well, even more awkward.
Ginny smiled softly, clearly understanding Hermione's hesitance. Her tone softened. "To be honest with you, Ron's been a bit… off these days. Obviously, we're all a bit off after what we went through. But Ron seems…distant. Like the way he is coping with it all isn't by being together with everyone, it's distancing himself. We're not sure if it was the war or Fred's passing. Or you," Ginny said, idly stirring her mash with her fork. "So just among us family we wondered if…well…if something had happened between you two."
Damn. Ginny was in the mood to probe and Hermione couldn't think of a good enough reason not to answer, so she told Ginny the truth. Partially.
"Nothing happened. We've both been…busy. I wanted to give him space to be with you and your family and now…I don't know, Gin. I'm not sure that much really changed with us. We're friends. We just happen to be friends that kissed each other during a really intense moment of our lives." Hermione felt satisfied with this answer. It felt genuine. Without discussing the incident with Ron, this was about all of the thought and energy she could give to her kiss with him. Anything else she could say would only be speculation about what he's feeling. The truth was, she didn't know how Ron was feeling about their kiss any more than her own feelings about it.
"Well, last I heard, he and Harry are planning to come back to the castle at some point this summer. Are you ready to talk to him about it?"
Hermione sighed. "Yes," she said, and she meant it. No matter the outcome, she was ready to resolve this mystery in her life.
Ginny seemed satisfied with her answers too because she didn't continue her interrogation. Hermione knew it was only a matter of time before it came up again, but she felt relieved that she was done facing her feelings, at least for now.
Dinner finished sooner than usual. Everyone ate quickly today, eager to hear the announcement of the staff members chosen to help with the Saturday work project.
When all of the plates had been cleared from the tables, McGonagall strolled to her usual place and, hushing the crowd, began her announcements.
"The end of another productive week," she started, clasping her hands together. "We have no necessary announcements today and I know that you all are very keen to know who was chosen to undertake the project tomorrow, so I'll get right to it." She walked over to a golden chalice, which was sat upon a small, mahogany table. There was an inscription on the front, but it was too far for Hermione to read.
McGonagall adjusted the spectacles that sat on the bridge of her nose and cleared her throat. "This chalice beside me works identically to the Goblet of Fire that was used during the Tri-Wizard Tournament years ago. The names that were submitted will be chosen randomly and at the discretion of the chalice itself. Please know that I nor any other staff members had any influence on its decision."
"The job tomorrow has dangers associated with its work, which is why we asked for volunteers and are offering extra compensation. We appreciate everyone's willingness to give up their Saturday to further the work of the Restoration."
Hermione took a second to wonder what the job could be. Perhaps they'd have to use difficult charms to restore a damaged room? Or they'd be tasked with managing objects infused with dark magic? She could only guess, but she hoped she'd be chosen to help. Busy work would keep her mind off of – well – men.
McGonagall put her hands on either side of the golden cup. "This chalice should produce 4 names. If your name is one that I call out, please meet me in the room just off the side of the Great Hall for further directions. And with that, let's meet our volunteers."
She took her wand from her robes and flicked it at the chalice, issuing a silent charm that caused it to hum faintly. After a few heartbeats, a slip of paper flew out of the opening and, instead of fluttering through the air, shot straight into McGonagall's waiting hand.
Finished with pleasantries, McGonagall announced the first name, "Draco Malfoy."
It was the first time of the night Hermione had looked over at Draco's table. He seemed pleased with himself at being chosen, an arrogant grin etched on his face, eerily mirroring the Draco she'd grown up with. She thought about all the times he'd insulted her as a kid, turning to his friends to affirm his miserable behavior. Hermione rolled her eyes at the memory and turned back before he could catch her looking.
It was barely a breath or two before the next name was called. "Hannah Abbott."
This name shocked Hermione. She hadn't noticed Hannah at any meals in the Great Hall recently. Maybe she had just arrived at the castle and asked to have her name added to the lottery? She remembered seeing Hannah during the battle at Hogwarts, but couldn't remember seeing her in the aftermath. She was glad Hannah had made it out unharmed.
As quickly as the second came the third name, "Pansy Parkinson."
Hermione saw that Pansy was smiling, seemingly chuffed at the thought of being paired with Draco for an afternoon. Clearly, their tuft in the Slytherin common room had done little to stifle their friendship. This struck a nerve with Hermione, but she didn't have time to dwell because McGonagall had just clutched the final name –
"Hermione Granger."