*
A/N: Hello everyone. I apologise for the extremely long delay. Those who saw my last note, I've not been doing well and I'm still not doing well. I still don't intend to abandon this story, but regular updates are not possible for me right now. I'm struggling severely with mental health and my focus isn't there but I promise I'm trying. I want to thank everyone who is sticking by this story though, I appreciate your patience and kind messages at this time.
*.
.
Considering the time she had finally gotten to bed, Hermione was roused far too early for her liking by the sound of a sharp tapping from a Ministry owl at her bedroom window.
Flinging aside her bed covers in frustration, she wiped the remains of her unsatisfying slumber from her eyes and stomped to the window to let the windswept owl and a horribly icy blast of autumn in its wake. With a huff, she aggressively snatched the letter from its leg which earned her a displeased snapping of the owls beak at her fingers.
"Oh, hush!" she glared at the owl. "You woke me up."
The owl made a noise somewhere between a hoot and a screech, but Hermione paid it no mind as she ripped the seal on the envelope to read the letters contents.
It was direct from the office of the Minister of Magic. She scanned through the drivel quickly, coming to rest her eyes on the important part of the letter; Kingsley wanted to have a meeting with her about Malfoy's progress this afternoon.
Hermione sighed. This would be the first of the proposed meetings and she really had nothing of note to report. Whilst she could speak about the fighting and the slurs and the extreme mental toll that Malfoy's abuse was taking on her, she wasn't going to.
Her reasoning for this was simple in her own mind, yet carried a complex explanation; the Malfoy family were notoriously well known for a great many things, but it was their snobbishness, their disdain for her kind and, of course, their involvement with some of the darkest forces in wizarding history that the majority of wizard-kind associated them with. Because of this, Hermione knew it would be impossible in swaying Kingsley's belief that Malfoy had in any way changed in only a few short weeks.
However, she still found herself conflicted. Despite Malfoys mostly intolerable personality, change was exactly what she believed she was beginning to see in him.
Small, that these changes were, she was almost positive they were there. She remembered, as she challenged his antithetical beliefs, the confusion she'd seen on his face, a vast range of warring emotions afflicting him... Something that the Malfoy of old would never have shown. She thought about the faltering in his voice and the way he tripped over his words as he had almost tried to reason with her when she offered him a compelling argument against his own. Again, the old Malfoy would have told her to shut up, or scoffed, or probably would've called her a Mudblood.
Malfoy had surely begun the process of questioning himself. She had inadvertently sown the seed of doubt when she found him reading her book all those weeks ago. He was an arse, but he was intelligent. She knew he could not ignore the facts he'd been presented with, much as he may have wanted to. He had been different since then. Much more difficult yes, but the differences were noticeable.
Where Kingsley was concerned, Hermione would tell him the truth, but perhaps keep to a generalised version of the events that had unfolded. She didn't want to get Malfoy in any trouble, not when she believed he was showing signs of change. But he had been quite an arse, so she decided she'd best keep that part to herself.
Dropping the letter on her nightstand, she fished in the drawer for some owl treats and held a couple out to the feathery little beast, who promptly snatched them and hightailed it out of her open window.
Snippy little thing, she thought as she closed out the harsh chill behind it.
It had finally come time for Hermione to make that necessary trip to Diagon Alley to replenish her potions stock for her Sleeping Draughts. She really detested going there, but to kill two birds with one stone, she decided to see if Malfoy might like her to pick up anything that would make him more comfortable.
It was a nice thing to do. And perhaps, she thought, if she was doing something nice for him, that benefited him, he may at least be a little more agreeable to her for the rest of today. No doubt it would be somewhat awkward after last night.
She shuddered at the thought, mentally slapping herself in the brain to refocus.
The secret benefit of helping out Malfoy, is that if he were surrounded by a few creature comforts, it might put him in a better mood. And Malfoy in a better mood might mean Hermione would become less of an emotional punching bag for him.
So breakfast, a visit to the apothecary, a little retail therapy and then she could go straight to her meeting with Kingsley at 3, maybe having time for a nice spot of lunch in between.
Perhaps this was shaping up to be a better day already.
The crisp autumn brought her back to the present, and Hermione shivered, fetched her gown and fastened it around herself. She made her way out to the living room, only to stop a few spaces short of the kitchen threshold as her eye caught sight of Malfoy, fast asleep on her sofa in front of her still switched-on television.
She frowned. She was slightly irked that he hadn't switched off the TV like she'd asked, but after such a horrible, fitful night, she couldn't hold on to such a trivial issue when he looked so completely at peace.
Hermione closed her eyes as the memories of Malfoy thrashing and whimpering bit at the corners of her subconscious, and her heart throbbed with a sudden desperate sympathy for him.
She opened her eyes again and lingered on him. After getting caught staring last night, she knew that she probably shouldnt be doing it again, yet she couldn't seem to unlock him from her line of sight.
His blanket had been thrown to the floor this time. Her towering windows did a good job of shielding her flat from autumn's wrath, yet they gave purchase to the warmth of the mid-morning sun. Its golden glow blanketed her living room and all its contents with a heat conflicting of the season.
Malfoy was laid out on his back, once again, exposing his perfectly porcelain complexion to the light, resting over his snow-white locks like a halo. If it hadn't been Malfoy, Hermione would have said he looked almost angelic.
Marginally distracted by a small sigh from his still sleeping form, she glided her eyes downward over his chest, getting a much clearer picture now of his taught pectorals and his sinfully defined abs, shining under a gentle sheen of sweat...
She gulped thickly and turned away from him, making her way to the fridge to start on some breakfast and ignoring the delicious flutter in her lower belly.
.
An unrecognisable thrumming of noise roused Draco from sleep. He opened his eyes and squinted under the warm sunlight. As his brain began to engage and his thoughts slowly caught up with him, he realised that he had fallen asleep on Grangers sofa. Judging by the still low light of the sun, he guessed it hadn't been a particularly long sleep, yet he felt surprisingly well rested, unable to recall any nightmares or disturbing dreams.
He sat up and stretched his arms over head, working out the kinks in his neck when he caught sight of Granger milling about the kitchen with her back turned.
She hadn't seen him yet. Draco watched her prodding at a pan with a spatula, flipping its contents as the tantalising scent of breakfast washed over him and he inhaled deeply.
It smelled fucking heavenly. Draco hadn't had a hot meal in... what was it, a month? His stomach growled rather loudly and he quickly pressed his hand against it as though to hush it from startling Granger. Luckily, she didn't appear to have heard anything. She simply continued busying herself in the kitchen, sterching up to pull a few plates from a cupboard above her head.
Draco stilled his eyes on her along with his breathing as the action caused her baby-blue robe to ride high up the backs of her legs. Her hamstring muscles were taught from the strain of being on her tiptoes, and Draco couldn't help but notice that she had very nice, shapely legs. The further she reached for the plates, the higher her gown rose, slowly revealing her inappropriately short, white shorts. His ears prickled as she grunted from the effort of it all, and he continued to watch her openly, transfixed on those tan, sculpted thighs of hers.
A moment too long he stared. Her pyjamas had risen too high now and Draco caught a peek of her bum, encased snugly in her matching blue underwear.
He snatched his eyes away, shamefully and stared down at his lap. It may have only been Granger, but he was raised better than to so openly oggle at women that way. Though, she does have a nice...
Stop it, what is wrong with you?! It's bloody Granger for Merlin's sake-
"Oh!" Draco turned sharply at the interruption, feeling his cheeks tinge pink slightly. Granger was now facing him, awkwardly clinging onto her dinnerware and looking mildly surprised. "You're awake."
He rolled his eyes and shuffled himself off the sofa. "Very keenly observed, Granger."
She huffed. "I just meant that... Well, I'm sorry if I woke you."
He scoffed, turning away from her. He really wished she wouldn't do that... All these needless sorry's and gestures of politeness and bloody kindness were doing his head in. It was false and he hated it.
They didn't like each other, so he really didn't see the need to force niceties between them. If he was honest, it was a bit of a head fuck. After all, why would Granger, of all people, feel the need to apologise to him? If anything, he ought to be the one apologising to her.
Not that he would, of course. Malfoy's don't apologise. A Malfoy's words are always spoken deliberately and with intent. If they didn't want to offend someone, they simply didn't.
Anyway, he had nothing to apologise for.
She did, though. This whole ordeal had been her bloody fault. If she'd have just left him the fuck alone last night like he'd told her to-
"Did I wake you?"
He started at the sound of her interfering voice "Circe, woman, no you didn't wake me!" he snapped, half peering at her over his shoulder.
"Why are you so snappy?" she demanded.
Because I woke up to a face-full of your pert little arse and I bloody well enjoyed it.
"I'm not snappy." he insisted. "But I am going to my room."
"Wait, Malfoy-"
He stopped short of his door, unsure why really, as he turned to face her. "What is it, Granger?"
She moved to place the plates down on the counter and clasped her hands awkwardly in front of her. "I made breakfast."
It was a statement, but it was announced more like a question. He lifted a blonde brow at her with an expression of askance to parallel her curiosity. "So?"
Her awkwardness seemed to inflate as she began shuffling her stance and dropped her eyes from his, as she was prone to do when she felt uncomfortable. "I mean I... made you some... as well." she tapered off quietly. "Would you like to join me?"
Draco would have bet all the gold in his vault at Gringotts that those words would never, ever pass Grangers lips. It was a most intriguing development, indeed, and Draco couldn't help but feel enveloped by utter shock. He really had no inclination to think that her statement of making breakfast was intended to include him.
Why, though?
"Well, because I..." Shit, did he say that out loud? "I realise now that it must have been a long while since you've had anything decent to eat and I was hungry and I had some time, seeing as I'm off work and all, and... well, I thought you must be hungry... and... and I-"
"Fine, Granger, if it'll make you stop rambling, I'll bloody join you." he'd meant to cut her off more icily, but it came out rather more like teasing. Granger seemed to have thought so too, for she looked back up at him and beamed before scuttling back off to her simmering pan.
Draco shook his head. He wandered toward the kitchen and leant up against the...frig? Whatever it was called. He feigned inspecting his nails but secretly, he watched Granger again, a small, slightly triumphant smile on her lips as she hummed lightly over her cooking, which he now could see was eggs and bacon.
She seemed oddly relaxed all of a sudden now that he'd accepted her bizarre invitation to breakfast. She was practically dancing about the kitchen as she crooned an unknown song slightly off key. Draco had no idea really, but Granger seemed very natural in the kitchen. Perfectly at ease, as she moved along the work surface and popped two slices of bread into another of her odd devices.
Draco felt the corner of his mouth tug upward, right as she turned back and caught his eye.
"What are you smiling at?" she asked, almost playfully, smiling more broadly herself.
That promptly knocked Draco's emotions back into check. He twisted his face and snorted. "Nothing." he shrugged. "Just... You sound like you've been taking singing lessons from The Fat Lady" he sniggered at his own quip.
She promptly stopped smiling and turned back to her pan, ceasing her song. A little pang bubbled in Draco's chest then, and for some reason, he felt the need to mollify her.
"So... What are you making?"
She paused momentarily from dishing up their meals to stare at him, one brow perked questioningly. "Eggs and bacon."
"Right." Brilliant. Don't make yourself seem too clever now, Draco. "Is it difficult?"
"Is what difficult?" she asked flatly, carrying the now loaded plates over to the living area.
"That." he gestured to the plates she carried as he followed. "I mean, making it." Really selling your intelligence now, Draco, nice one.
"Oh, uh, no. Not really." she replied lightly, setting the plates on the coffee table and sitting down. "Could you grab the cutlery please? They're in the drawer on the left."
His mind screamed resistance to her request, but his body was already moving as if imperiused, and before he could argue, he retrieved the cutlery and sat beside her and was passing her her own set.
Draco tried not to think about the absurdity of this situation as he dug straight into his food and... Merlin be damned, if it wasn't the best thing he'd ever put in his mouth. He knew it was most likely just the lack of proper food talking, but this meal Granger cooked rivalled any and all gourmet delicacies he'd grown up on at the Manor.
"Good?" asked Granger, surveying him from under her long lashes.
Caught unawares and snapped from his reverie, Draco swallowed down his bite a little too enthusiastically and choked. Granger dropped her fork promptly, letting it clatter against her plate and began swatting him viciously on his back.
"Wha-what the f-fuck Granger?" he spluttered, trying to regain control of his airways. "What the fuck are you hitting me for, you frizzy bint?" he demanded, glaring at her.
She frowned, ceasing her slapping. "I was helping you to stop choking? Was that not obvious?"
"Obviously not!"
She scoffed loudly and sneered. "Well, you're welcome anyway, Malfoy." she spat sarcastically, picking up her knife and fork again.
"I don't believe I actually thanked you." he retorted, rubbing at his back where she'd pounded at him in an overly exaggerated fashion.
"No" she replied haughtily, keeping her eyes locked on her food. "And I wouldn't expect such a civility from you."
Draco stopped rubbing his back in favour of trying to scorch a hole in her head with a glare, but she still ignored him. She looked irritated, but Draco sensed he'd managed to upset her a little. An agitated Granger wouldn't avoid eye contact, for starters.
"I'm not exactly sure why you think I owe you an apology, Granger. You're the one who randomly started beating the shit out of me."
She slammed down her cutlery and snapped at him, still refusing to make eye contact. "I was trying to stop you from choking, you ungrateful prat!" Then she sighed, lowering her voice and reaching back for her cutlery. "But, no worries. I'll know better next time." she said softly. "Let you bloody choke on it."
Ordinarily, he'd be poised with a retort, but not this time. He actually felt a little guilty. Despite the fact that last night had been entirely her fault, she had still sat with him through most of the night while he was unwell, cleaning his vomit and trying to soothe him, only for him to deal her a verbal bashing about her blood. Then she'd made him breakfast when she had no rhyme or reason to, and it was fucking delicious, then she had tried to help him when he was choking and he'd yelled at her and insulted her appearance.
That nagsome little pang sat in his chest and he subtly rubbed at it with his knuckles, resuming eating in uncomfortable silence with Granger and pausing occasionally to eye her cautiously. She still wouldn't look at him, instead choosing to stare intently at her breakfast which she seemed to be attacking angrily, more than actually enjoying.
"So," he began awkwardly, "Any plans for the rest of the day?" he asked, trying to break the tension.
"Nothing really." she replied shortly. "Unfortunately I have to venture into Diagon, then I have a meeting with Kingsley later."
He resisted the urge to ask about her meeting, but he picked up on something else that he'd found peculiar.
"Unfortunately?"
She paused her actions, swallowing her piece of toast, finally meeting his eye, quizzically.
"Sorry, what?"
"You said you had to go to Diagon Alley today. 'Unfortunately'."
"Oh, erm... yes. I prefer not to visit there if I can help it."
"What, in case you run into Weaselbee?" he sniggered.
She scoffed indignantly. "No. Why do you always do that?"
"What?"
"The minute we start to have a half-decent, civilised conversation like adults, you find some childish way to ruin it with insults." her brow furrowed at him, she picked up her now empty plate and half-finished mug of tea, and turned her back on him to place them in the sink.
Silence hung in the air again as Draco fixed his stare to her back and continued eating in silence.
"Guess I'm not getting an answer then." she muttered, her back to him still.
"What do you want from me, Granger? Really?" She spun around to face him as Draco dropped his fork loudly. "We don't like each other, never have and never will. I'm here against my will in this hovel, unable to come and go as I please and forced to live with you." he stood, picking up his plate and strode over to the sink, dropping it in there more heavily than necessary." We went through this last night and I don't wish to relive it. I made it perfectly clear what I think of you. And over the years I've made it perfectly clear what I think of your friends, so I don't understand why you continue to question it. This is the dynamic we have, get used to it."
He turned on his heel to stomp away to his room when he felt her tiny hand grab him firmly by the wrist.
She locked eyes with him. Not angry, but big and wide and fierce. Like there was a mission behind that dark-chocolate stare.
She spoke to him calmly. "I know what you think of me. And of my friends. But, like you said, you're here and there's nothing you, nor I, can do about it. And I think it's high time we tried to get along, for both our sakes."
He scoffed at her, wrenching his arm away, intending to retort when she held up her hand to silence him.
"Let me finish. I realise that I haven't been the most gracious of hosts, and I intend to rectify that immediately. If I'm honest, I really don't expect you to extend me the same courtesy-"
"You're doing well so far, Grang-"
"But nonetheless, I'm going to try. Starting with trying to make your living situation a little better. That's actually another reason I'm heading to Diagon Alley today. I was going to ask you if there was anything you need to make your stay here easier?"
"How many times, Granger?" he yelled suddenly, clenching his fists. "I don't need your pity or your false kindness! Why are you like this?!"
"There's nothing wrong with being kind, Malfoy." she replied delicately, crossing her arms.
"It's not really kindness is it? You're only doing it to spite me. Make me look like a bloody asshole. Make yourself seem like this benevolent, can-do-no-wrong bloody... thing! It's bullshit Granger!"
She knit her brows together and tutted at him. "Oh grow up, Malfoy, I'm not being kind to spite you. I'm just being kind. And besides, either way I'm on a loser. If I try to do something nice for you, you scold me for it, yet if I leave you to your own devices, you complain constantly. I'd much rather the former and at least know I've done something nice for someone, even if that someone lives to deny me any joy in my own life."
The comment stung and he didn't know why. He had no rebuttle because she was right. Again. She was so bloody infuriating.
"Look, I'm getting ready and going out. If you want anything, let me know before I go. You have an hour or so to think about it, then-"
"I told you, I don't need your pity. And I certainly dont need your bloody charity."
She sighed deeply, pinching her brow in exasperation. "If it is any consolation, it's not my money. I've been given a kind of expense account for looking after you-"
"Looking after me?!" Draco's eyes widened at her gall. "You're not my fucking mother-!"
"For God's sake, Malfoy! I meant for housing you during your sentance! Honestly, stop being so petty, I'm not trying to attack your character!" Granger seemed to really be losing it again. Draco was sure hair had swelled exponentially with her ire. "Anyway, it's not my money. It's the Ministry's. So it's not even charity, but I suppose you can look at it how you want, I really could care less."
She didn't seem as though she could care less. Draco thought she looked close to hexing him again. Sensing that as a danger, he relented, not wishing to spend the rest of the day covered in boils or nursing a nasty burn.
"Fine, Granger. I'll make a list." he muttered grumpily, crossing his arms over his chest.
She nodded curtly. "You do that." And with that, she retreated to her room, slamming the door roughly in her wake.
.
.
Around an hour later, Hermione was curled into a cozy wingback, her hands wrapped tightly around a steaming mug of chai as she watched the world contemplatively through the window of her favourite café. Taking a sip from her oversized mug, she took a moment to hum in quiet contentment as she watched the passers-by try to beat away the autumn chill with their thick scarves and bobble hats.
She knew she should press on to Diagon, but she really hadn't felt this at ease for a long while. Either she was up to her ears in orders, debts or stock at work, or she was at home dealing with an overgrown man-child. This was her one moment of peace in an otherwise unnecessarily stressful existence.
The man-child in question had left her a short list on the coffee table before he retreated back to his room. He'd requested a few books, a new set of bed sheets and a box of chocolate frogs. A lot less than she'd expected from him to be honest, but she supposed his pride was getting in the way of actually allowing her to help him.
She internally shrugged. It's up to him if he wants to cut his nose to spite his pointy face. At least she was trying.
Hermione huffed. There she was, trying to have some Malfoy-free relaxation time and she'd somehow ended up thinking about him anyway. She downed the last of her tea, gathered her things and paid at the counter before heading out the café to march toward Diagon Alley. She'd managed to walk there in less than ten minutes due to her agitated stomping, quickly passing her own place of work so as not to have to stop and talk to Mari in her current mood. She shuffled through the overcrowded Leaky Cauldron to the back, greeting the barrier with mild panic and disdain.
She took several deep breaths as she stared down the wall, idly fingering her wand in the back pocket of her jeans as she attempted to flush the rising panic in her chest. After a moment of exercised breathing and an internal mantra of 'you can do this, Hermione', she grabbed her wand from her back pocket and tapped the bricks with the tip, quickly stuffing it back in her pocket as the wall began to roll away. She pulled her hood over her head as low as it would go, tucked her chin and marched straight for the apothecary.
