The night that fell into her 19th birthday, Hermione dreamt of the year that she turned ten.
Her mother had organised a party for all of her primary school friends to come stay for a sleepover, to which her father wasn't happy about. While the other girls slept in the living room, Hermione crept upstairs to see if her parents would fight like they did most nights.
In the crack between the master bedroom door and it's frame, she peeked in to find the answer she dreaded. Her mother yelling, and her father slapping her face in return. Then pushing her on the bed and repeating his throws until the complaining stopped.
Before she could remember what happened next, Hermione awoke from her dream to the sound of an infant giggling.
Ginny held baby Teddy in her arms with Fred and George in toe while opening her bedroom door. Hermione rose from her pillow, smiling at the housemates.
"Happy Birthday, Hermione!" They all shouted.
Teddy flung his legs back and forth at the commotion, laughing as Ginny held him under the arms and placed him into Hermione's lap.
Fred threw a small vial on the ground, letting a miniature firework display erupt inside the room. George turned up a radio playing a jig sort of song as all three Weasleys danced to beat, cheering for the special day.
Hermione grabbed Teddy, wrapping her arms around his small body and laughed with him as he pointed to all the different coloured explosions. Ginny soon pulled her out of bed and forced her to dance with the baby on her hip.
In the end, her cheeks hurt from smiling so hard.
Downstairs, Theo and Dean had a poorly made rainbow cake and a rectangular shaped gift in their hands. She kissed both of their cheeks as a thankyou, narrowly minding the way that Theo turned his lead so that the corner of their mouths brushed.
Andromeda, Cho and Harry sat in the kitchen with an already cooked breakfast waiting to be devoured. They each wished her a happy birthday while the remainder of the house took their seats around the table.
By the time that they had run out of bacon, everyone sang happy birthday, properly out of tune. The gift Dean handed her was a book that Theo had secretly grabbed on their last shopping trip, Sense and Sensibility. Only the cover had a picture of what must be a muggle movie adaptation.
"It looked like something you would enjoy," he explained.
"You really didn't have to do this," Hermione placed her hand over her heart. "Thank you so much, everyone. Truly."
Pulling her chair back, she gave each person a hug from behind while they continued to eat their breakfast. Even though it was small, the first hour of her birthday had been the happiest time she had known in months.
Teddy found satisfaction in throwing scrambled eggs from his chair and everyone else laughed while his hair turned the same colour as the food on the floor. People spoke to the person next to them, and jokes were shared amongst the entire group. Even Harry was in a good mood.
"Okay, best birthday gifts and worst birthday gifts you've ever received." Ginny pointed to Cho, "Cho you go first."
"That is a hard one. I am going to have to say, the best birthday gift was a gold bracelet from my Mum when I turned fifteen. And the worst gift… A purple lipstick from Cedric the same year. Dean, you're next."
Swallowing the remainder of his toast, Dean thought on his answer. "Okay, best gift, a broom when I was, I don't know, twelve. Worst, an embroidered hanky from my Nanna, every year since I was born."
"I'll go next," Harry said. "Worst gift is a close tie between a coat hanger or a used tea bag from my aunt and uncle. Best gift, the cake that Hagrid baked me on my eleventh birthday when we first met."
All the girls in the room let out an awh in unison, while the boys groaned at the cheesiness of the answer. Harry flipped them off, letting everyone laugh together all over again.
"Well mine is a pair of enchanted underwear to make things look bigger than they actually are, and tickets to see the Tutshill Tornados. And I'm not telling you which is which." Theo teased, throwing a wink at Fred across the table.
That one Hermione couldn't help but giggle at, earning her a seductive smile from the Slytherin that made her stomach harden. She didn't know whether that was good or bad.
"Hermione, what about you?" Andromeda asked, "What are your best and worst gifts?"
"Oh, that is a tricky one. I don't know if I have ever had a bad gift before."
Almost everyone rolled their eyes, all collectively telling her that there was no way that that was true.
"Okay, okay, okay! Maybe there was a year where I was given a charmed hair brush that would straighten my curls, to which I threw in the rubbish right away."
Harry frowned with his mouth open, "Hey! Didn't I give you that?"
Ginny tried to smuggle her laughter but couldn't help the cackles that came from her mouth. Everyone else joined in until their eyes watered.
"Gee mate, even we know that is bloody harsh," Fred held onto his brother's shoulder as he wiped a tear with his knuckle.
"Yeah, yeah. Whatever, I get it. I'm a terrible gift giver, alright?"
Hermione waved her hand, "It's okay, Harry. I only cried about it for like three days."
That sent off another round of laughter, including Teddy, squealing at the excitement of the room.
"What about best gift?" Cho asked.
"I think it would have to be one of the first copies of text for The Winter Tale's tale."
By the lull of sound, Hermione guessed that no one knew the weight of what she was saying.
"It is the play in which my name came from," she explained. "Shakespear. It is my most treasured possession behind my wand. Although, I haven't a clue who gave it to me. An owl dropped it at my window on my twelfth birthday in first year. No note was attached, so I couldn't even send a thank you in reply."
"A secret crush perhaps?" Theo tilted his head, with a shape to his mouth that sent an unspoken message.
Hermione blinked four times before replying, "I honestly doubt that."
While the rest of the room continued talking to one another, Theo kept his eyes locked with hers. Hermione tried to ignore the memories of the kiss they shared a few nights ago, but she sensed that he was not going to let her forget.
She wondered if she was supposed to enjoy his attention, because it never made her feel nice.
Later that day, after lunch, Ginny and Hermione sat on the porch swing. Their cups of tea had grown cold from their long discussion on how they could help Harry with the unspoken pressure he felt.
"You should have seen him before you got here, Gin. He was drinking at breakfast. I don't even know if he ever went to bed, or if he just stayed awake all night with a bottle in hand."
Ginny exhaled heavily, "He said that there were days that blurred together. Discussions he'd been forgetting because he might've been drunk. I'm sorry you had to see him like that, no one should have to see their best friend so broken."
"I am glad it was us and not you. Harry will never admit it out loud, but I believe he thinks that we all blame him for everything that's happened. You-Know-Who coming back just for the sake of the prophecy and needed to kill him in order to reign."
"Well that is not true. I'm not up to date on all of the Horcrux stuff as you guys are, but this evil has been going on a lot longer than Harry's even been alive. You two and Ron are just far too heroic, always taking the blows for everyone when no one asks you to."
Hermione bit the inside of her lower lip. Ginny recognised what she had said and shook her head slowly at the memory of her brother's death.
"Sorry, 'Mione. Sometimes I forget that he's not here anymore. Half the time I keep expecting him to bounce down the stairs complaining about how there's no food in the house. It just feels so weird."
"You don't have to apologise to me," Hermione placed her hand over Ginny's knee. "He was your brother. You must miss him more than I would ever know."
There was a moment where the two girls swung back and forth without speaking. Memories of Ron swam on the edges of Hermione's mind, more specifically times when he was rather annoying to his younger sister.
"When I was at Winchester, this bloke named Johnny, related to Kinglsey I think. He and I were getting to know one another, and when he asked if I had any siblings, I said that I had six brothers. It's the answer I've always given, but now I don't know if I'm supposed to say five. Do you know what I mean?"
Hermione nodded, looking down at her cup, "I don't know what it is like having siblings, but I can understand how hard it would be for you. Ron will always be your brother, I think you can always say that you have six."
"Yeah, I guess. I think what I miss most about him is his voice. Sixteen years I heard him talk and part of me is scared that I will forget it some day. Especially the voice he puts on when he's trying to be the big brother type. You know the one that I'm talking about?"
"I do," Hermione chuckled. "He would puff his chest out and talk with more authority than he really had."
"Exactly! Exactly. Gah, I miss that. I miss making fun of him for it."
Over by the granny flat, there was a bang so loud that it broke one of the windows. Purple smoke and two twins came pouring out of the front door, waving away the fumes as they coughed their way over to the porch swing.
"What happened?!" Hermione asked, recognising the motherly voice she puts on.
Fred sat on the second step, while George leant on the pillar that held up the porch fence.
"No need to stress, Mum. Just a wee little experiment gone wrong," George said.
"Yeah, Mum. No need to stress. We'll clean it up later, okay," Fred echoed, giving her a cheeky smile.
"It had better not be another wart bomb. Cho will have your throats if it is."
Ginny scoffed into her mug, "Let me guess. She had to stay in her room for a whole week?"
"Something like that," George didn't try to hide his grin. "Hey, what are you two ladies talking about?"
"Harry."
"Ron," they both said at the same time. Ginny being the more truthful one, less ashamed of talking about her dead brother than Hermione was.
Fred groaned, "Both very touchy subjects. Care to share while we wait for the bomb to clear?"
Hermione found that the back of her brain was starting to throb. It did that lately when she had been talking for too long and her body wanted to sleep off the pain. She squeezed her eyes three times while Ginny explained the preface of their earlier discussions.
The ache wasn't going away, and now she was feeling nauseous.
But it was her birthday. Hermione didn't want today to be a bad day, it had been so good this morning.
She inhaled and exhaled slowly, then took a sip of her cold tea. Mummers of the Weasleys rumbled in the background while she concentrated on trying not to break down. When that didn't help, she started to recite the national anthem.
That helped a little. In truth, all she wanted was a marmalade sandwich. Three marmalade sandwiches. Maybe if she made those, then she'd feel better.
"Does anyone want a marmalade sandwich?" Hermione blurted out, totally unaware of whether or not she was interrupting a serious conversation between siblings or not.
Ginny looked at her brothers, who shook their heads, and then did the same. She gave Hermione a glance that silently asked if she was okay, to which Hermione tightened her lips and nodded. Casual and collected like the good actress she was.
Leaving the other three behind on the porch, Hermione walked back into the house. She stumbled a little in the hall, hunching over while her brain felt as if it was being grated like cheese.
"She alright?" Fred asked, unaware that his whispers could still be heard.
"I dunno," Ginny replied. "Harry said she's been off ever since you all got here. Something about sleeping all the time and not eating much."
"Hermione's a tough cookie, isn't she Freddie.? Probably a tad overwhelmed with the Ron talk, I reckon. Best not to mention him around her or Harry."
"Odd though, don't you think?" George lowered his voice even more. "He was our brother and those two don't wanna talk about him."
Not wanting to hear anymore, Hermione forced herself to walk to the kitchen and out of ear shot.
She made three rounds of marmalade sandwiches and took them to her room, purposely avoiding any more conversations with anyone else in the house. Then as she sat on the edge of her bed and looked out the window, she thought of her mother.
Pieces of last night's dream made the sweet taste of marmalade bitter.
She always wondered whether or not that was the first time her father had hit her mother. It was definitely the first time that she knew the wonders of what a concealer could do. In between pancakes in the morning and parents picking their daughters up, the blue bruise under her mother's eye completely vanished.
Licking the remainder of the orange jam off her fingers, Hermione laid back onto her bed. The all too familiar thumping pounded against her bedroom roof. She concluded that Malfoy must be awake, doing whatever it was that made him less bored up there.
She stood on top of her mattress in hope to hear more clearly, but it was no use, there was just muffled noise. Instead, she went to grab the newest book added to the pile on her desk. Maybe that will numb her mind.
It was when she crossed the fireplace that the sound of a soft grunt flew through the empty hole in the wall. Hermione stopped dead in her tracks, holding to hear it again.
There it was. A grunt. The same grunt that had come out of Malfoy's mouth when she pushed him to the grass the other night. With every step she took closer to the fireplace, the grunts got more clearer.
Hermione crouched down and poked her head up the chimney tunnel. It was dark and smelt like rotten coal. At the top there was a slither of light, a box-like hole where a brick could be missing.
"Fuck sake," Malfoy grumbled, following another puff of aggravated air. "Come on! Come on!"
It sounded as if he was pissed off with either himself or whatever it was he was trying to do.
Unsure why she found comfort in his curses, she sat on the ledging of the fireplace and listened as he struggled in the attic. In a way, she thought that it was the audible expression of what she was thinking most of the day. She too was almost always pissed off with herself or whatever she was trying to do.
"Fucking SHIT!" Malfoy bellowed, throwing something onto the ground that crashed like glass.
Hermione didn't jump at the sound, she sat with her knees pressed against her chest and waited until he stopped.
Five minutes later the yelling dimmed down, as did the throwing. Malfoy went quiet. So quiet that Hermione thought that maybe he had left the attic entirely. She gathered that he must have thrown a silencing charm over the room.
Eventually, she grabbed Sense and Sensibility off the desk, read the first seven chapters before falling asleep on her bed.
That afternoon she dreamt of the summer that her parents took her to France. Her mother said that it was her father's idea to take them there. The entire time they were there, her father bought his wife anything that she wanted. Hermione knew, even at thirteen, that he was making up for something bad.
"It's your birthday, Hermione! What the bloody hell are you doing asleep?!"
With a panicked snap of her eyes opening, Hermione saw Cho standing by the edge of her bed. A look of judgement slapped across her perfectly proportioned face.
"I-uh-I fell asleep reading," Hermione explained, rubbing her brow with the back of her hand.
"Well, get up. We have dinner to cook and games to play. Hurry up and get downstairs!"
She didn't even have a chance to protest before Cho stormed out of the room. Seeing as her last birthday, she, Harry and Ron had been camping all across Europe trying to find Horcruxes, this year still did not feel worthy of celebrating.
A gross feeling that started at the pit of her stomach and crawled up her neck. The feeling was guilt. It wasn't much different to the guilt that usually swam through her veins, but this one had a special edge to it.
With unsteady steps, Hermione walked downstairs, meeting Harry in the hallway. He had more colour to his face since Ginny had arrived.
"Seems silly, don't you think?" She said, picking at her nails. "Everyone making a fuss for a birthday given everything that is happening."
"No different than the fuss you made for my birthday a few months back."
"Yes, but you needed to be celebrated. You've had enough losses this year, Harry."
He rolled his chair close enough to her legs so that he could hold her hand. He squeezed her palm three times without saying a word. They seemed to communicate like this sometimes. Telling the other person what they already know but not actually speaking.
This time Harry was saying, You've had losses too. Suck it up.
Hermione smiled at him without showing her teeth. She took a deep breath and nodded, then walked into the living room.
She took over Teddy's care from Andromeda, letting her attend to the others in the kitchen. The baby bounced on her knees and squealed as she pulled funny faces at him. He looked so much like Lupin that it was gut punching.
Teddy made her laugh like no one else in the house could. Everything he did was so innocently pure that he had no idea that what he was doing was amusing. Even the way that he blew his tongue was funny in Hermione's eyes.
She had to remind herself that she was never going to be able to do this with her one child one day.
Later that night she promised everyone two games of Exploding Snaps and then she would turn in for the evening. It ended up being five games before she caved and said goodnight.
Theo walked her to her bedroom once more but didn't try to kiss her. This time he gave her a hug that friends did when they met up during school holidays.
She hadn't eaten much of dinner, still feeling compelled to not eat in front of everyone. When midnight came around, she didn't even bother waiting to see if Malfoy was going to come downstairs first.
The past few nights since their argument, Hermione had forced herself to stay in her room until he stood at the front gates, did his staring thing, and then went back to the attic. Tonight, however, she was so hungry that she couldn't be bothered worrying about a confrontation.
There were remainders of the birthday cake left in the fridge, which she took out and simply grabbed a spoon to eat straight from the stand. The texture had dried out and the icing was cold against her teeth, but it was nice.
She sat at the end of the kitchen table, quietly eating her cake, lost in thoughts of what the Weasleys had been talking about earlier in the day. She was so dazed that she hadn't heard Malfoy coming downstairs until he was walking through the kitchen.
Either he didn't see her in the shadows or was ignoring her, because he beelined for the door without a single glance in Hermione's direction. She nearly choked on the cake in the mouth, and coughed under the table so the sound was muffled.
Standing up to the kitchen window, she watched as he did a sort of twist as he made his way to the front gates, then turned around to make his way back, then turned back around all over again. He did this three times before eventually coming back to the house.
Hermione leapt from her spot by the window and back into the seat at the kitchen table, trying very hard to calm her heart rate. She figured if she stayed still enough then he wouldn't see her on his way back upstairs. It almost worked. Malfoy stomped back through the kitchen and was a foot's length away from leaving before he did a double take on where Hermione was sitting.
He frowned, swivelling on his heel to cross his arms across his chest and stare. Hermione wondered how ridiculous she looked, eating birthday cake in the middle of the night, all by herself. By the expression on his face, she gathered that she looked incredibly ridiculous.
"Don't judge me," she said with force, pointing the tip of her spoon in his direction.
"Too late for that, Granger." He tilted his chin up to see what type of cake it was, "Rainbow. How cute."
"Dean made it for me."
"Looks like his handy work."
For a moment there, Hermione forgot that Dean was the one that was bringing Malfoy food every day. She still hadn't managed to figure out when he was doing that exactly.
Malfoy hesitated at first, but then dragged a chair out and sat on the other end of the table. He placed his wand in front of his hands and intertwined his fingers.
"Wallowing over your old age?" He asked with raised eyebrows.
Hermione took a second to scan over the wizard opposite her. He still only wore an undershirt that showed off his scars and made the veins in his pale biceps pop. Theo might be right, he must workout up there. With what though, that was the question she wondered most.
"Nineteen is not old," she grumbled, taking another bite of cake. "When I'm twenty, then I'll start to panic."
"Please, you've acted as if you are forty-five since you were eleven. Tell me, what charms do you use to rid those white roots away?"
"Wouldn't you like to know?"
Malfoy seemed to appreciate her sleepy sarcasm. If Hermione wasn't so blinded by the dark shadows of the night, she might have guessed that he had smiled at her retaliation.
They sat in silence for seconds that didn't seem to end. Hermione picked at the cake, desperately wanting to eat more, but feeling awkward to do so in front of Malfoy. She thought of offering some to him, but that was too nice of a gesture. He didn't deserve it.
Truthfully, he might deserve it, but right now Hermione was too fixated herself to see whether or not he did.
"You know…" she started, unsure if she should continue with where her mind was going. "All my life my mother would use my age against me. If I did something immature she would say 'Come now Hermione, you are seven, that's enough'. But if I worried too much about something that I didn't need to she would say, 'Come now Hermione, you are seven, that's enough'. It all depended on the tone."
Lifting her eyes to meet his, she was surprised to see he was actually listening.
"No matter what I did, I was never acting my appropriate age. I was either growing up too soon, or not soon enough. I was disappointing her either way. But this year… This year not once did I hear my Mum say, 'Come now Hermione, you are eighteen, that's enough'. I haven't a clue what type of disappointment I've been. Even worse, I don't think I will hear her say, 'Come now Hermione, you are nineteen, that's enough' this year either."
She knew she was rambling, and he was going to make fun of her for it. But for the two minutes that she talked, there was no weight compressing against her lungs. It was a relief, in a sense.
Malfoy rolled his wand back and forth with the tips of his fingers. At some point while she was talking he had stopped looking at her and began staring at the table. He ran his tongue along the bottom of his lip as if he was thinking about what to say.
His hand trembled slowly and then quickly. He didn't try to pull them away, rather he just glared at the shakes like he was trying to burn holes into the skin.
Hermione was unsure how to ask what caused the tremor.
"Cruciatus Curse," Malfoy said bluntly.
"Oh," she whispered. "More than once?"
"Fourteen. Over time."
He clenched his hands into fists, and they both watched as they steadied themselves to lie still on the wooden table. As much as it hurt Hermione to admit it, at this moment she felt sorry for Malfoy. The one time that she had gotten to experience the end of a Cruciatus Curse, she was ready to die, then and there.
Fourteen times would be like walking through the pits of hell.
"Did You-Know-Who do it?" She asked, taking a shy bite of cake.
"Why aren't you using his name anymore? Potter had no fear screaming it in the middle of class, why stop now?"
"We don't know if there is still a taboo on his name or not. Is there?"
Malfoy craned his next, "You're asking as if I'm still in cahoots with Death Eaters."
"Are you?"
It was a bold question that he could easily lie with his answer. However, the way that he shook his head silently allowed Hermione to believe he was telling the truth. He probably wouldn't be here talking with her if he was, anyway.
"So did he? Did he do it?"
"Yes." The last letter drew out like a hiss.
"Why? What did you do?"
He picked up his wand and drew shapes on the table with it's tip. Not hard enough to make any carvings, but enough to make a sound.
"I failed to identify prisoners."
Pain shot up Hermione's legs. Suddenly she wanted to vomit. Malfoy didn't owe her anything, nor did she owe him anything, and yet she felt indebted to him for saving their lives from a war that he practically caused.
An apology was on the edge of her tongue, just how it was when Theo had kissed her. She had more of a struggle forcing herself from saying it this time.
"Why don't you sleep at night?" Malfoy asked, breaking the tension he knew he created. "Nightmares?"
"No. I don't eat during the day and find myself binge eating at night. If anything, I sleep too much."
They were both being far too honest with one another. Hermione didn't know why she just confessed to having issues that he could laugh at. She also had no idea why he had so willingly told her the story behind his trembling.
She thought that maybe, here in the kitchen, nothing mattered. No one else was around to see them one up another, or belittle for the sake of mental dominance. They knew they were both messed up. There was no denying any more.
"What is your best and worst birthday gift you have ever received?" Hermioned asked. Her tone wasn't what someone would use when asking a friend in a playful way.
Malfoy sat further back in his seat, "Why?"
"Just answer the question."
He huffed, taking a second to think before answering. "Best gift was a letter my father had written me before first year. He wrote all the reasons he was proud to call me his son. Worst gift, a candle from Crabb."
His answers were nowhere near as materialistic as Hermione had thought they were going to be. She had ancticpiating him saying something along the lines of, Best gift was this chateau on the coast of Italy that my parents put in my name. The worst was the fucking elf that came along with it. Useless piece of shit.
Taking a moment to soak in what he really said, Hermione realised that she was one of the last people to see Crabbe alive. She also didn't know if Malfoy knew that.
"I'm sorry about Crabbe and Goyle," she found herself saying. "We-we tried helping them. In the fire. But there was-there was nothing-"
"It's fine, Granger," He spoke with aggression. "Don't give yourself another panic attack trying to apologise for those twits. I know they started that fire and were too dumb to get out of it."
"Those twits were your friends, Malfoy," she said this with twice the amount of aggression as him. Mainly because he made fun of her panic attack while simultaneously degrading the worth of the boys who worshipped the ground he walked on.
"They were still imbeciles even if they were my friends."
"I remember they were asking Harry for your wand. The one he still has. You sent them to get the wand, didn't you? You sent them to their death, Malfoy."
Hermione hadn't meant to come across as so malicious. One she got to this level of anger, it was hard to come back down.
"You don't think I know that?" He said, gripping the edge of the table. "You don't think that is what keeps me up at night? That the last thing I ever said to them was, do what I say or you'll get yourself killed? Who do you think I am, Granger?"
"I think you're a boy who was raised thinking his parents would guard him from the harshness of this world, when in reality they were the ones who threw you into the deep end. I think you're cold and you have no heart because of it. I think you hate yourself more than anyone else does."
Malfoy gripped the table harder, no doubt retraining himself from hexing her, when that could risk waking up the rest of the house.
Hermione breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth. She wanted him to hurt her. She wanted him to hit her like his father used to hit his mother. She wanted to feel literally anything other than the hurt that was crushing her.
"Are you quite done?" He asked, letting his hands fall into his lap.
With a shuddered breath, Hermione nodded. She watched Malfoy run a hand through hair that was in a fair need of a cut. He looked at her with eyes of fire. Same way he had when he looked at his trembling hands. He wanted to burn a hole into her now, too.
"I don't really think that you killed Crabbe and Goyle. I know that they were idoitic and killed themselves."
"I think that you also blame yourself for them dying. Partly." He bent his head to look at her more deeply. "You can't stand that you couldn't be the hero."
He was right. She knew he was right. It just killed her to acknowledge it out loud.
"Well, I guess that we are both guilty."
Malfoy held up his wrists and crossed them over like one would when being arrested. When she didn't move, he leaned back in his chair.
He was watching her while she played with pieces of cake with her fork. Hermione hadn't quite squished the urge to eat everything in the entire cupboard. Her stomach rumbled because of that.
When Malfoy stood up from his seat, she thought that he was leaving, but he went into the cupboard instead. Coming out, he had arms full of packaged food, and then dropped them at the centre of the table.
"What are you doing?" She asked.
"Dean didn't send any food today. Your birthday trumped that so now I'm eating."
He grabbed a fork from the top draw and then took a seat two chairs down from her. Reaching across the table, he pulled the cake stand to himself and proceeded to eat at it.
Hermione went to protest, "Hey I was-"
"No you weren't," he interrupted before swallowing. "You were waiting for me to leave to finish this off. Eat anything else, Granger. Don't let me get in the way of your unhealthy coping habits."
"Other people have to eat here as well, you know. If we eat this, we won't have enough for the rest of the week."
"So? Buy some more. You have the money."
Narrowing her eyes, Hermione grew suspicious as Malfoy opened a packet of biscuits and ate the first two with ease. Reluctantly, she reached for the ginger one and began nibbling at it.
They ate together in silence until the clock said it was two in the morning. When they were both leaning back in their chairs, unable to inhale anything else, Hermione realised that she didn't feel as disgusting as she usually did.
"It's your money that the safe houses have been using for supplies, isn't it?" She asked, stopping herself from rubbing her belly.
"My inheritance. Yes."
"Will we run out anytime soon?"
Malfoy looked at her through hooded eyes, and then tilted his chin up. "Not unless the war continues for another century."
He was being cocky. Then again, when wasn't he being cocky.
"What are the best and worst birthday gifts you have ever received?" He asked, looking down at the table.
"The best, an old copy of The Winter's Tale and the worst a hairbrush."
Malfoy scoffed, pinching the bridge of his nose, "Surely you are joking."
"That wasn't a cue for you to make fun of my hair."
"No, not the brush. The Winter's Tale. You know Theo gave you that, right?"
"He may have made an indication this morning that he was the one who sent it. I take it that it was sent as a joke then? What, did all the Slytherin boys gather together in the dungeons and come up with a plan to tease the mudblood for her unusual name?"
He leant forward on his forearms, letting the humour drop from his face. "Granger, your name is the least unusual within the Wizarding World. None of us knew the word mudblood until Theo came home that summer and told his parents he liked the smartest witch in our year. When he said you were a muggle-born, all us heirs were sat down by our fathers and taught to hate you."
"You hated me in first year," she argued.
"Because of who you were not because of, well, who you were."
They were both refusing to go back to the point that Theo fancied her in first year. The air turned tight within the kitchen because of it.
Hermione used her wand to clean up their mess, while Malfoy partly helped by putting the remaining food back into the pantry. She found it funny that he used his hands. He seemed like the type of wizard to use his magic for the simplest tasks. A lazy wizard, to be harsh.
When the kitchen looked as if it had never been touched, Malfoy gave her a nod before it got awkward. He left the room, making no noise as he walked up the stairs and returned to his cave.
Having no idea what she was feeling, Hermione made her way back to her bedroom thinking about how this was one of the better birthdays she has had.
Even if she was on the verge of throwing herself off the roof of the house at any given moment.
